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diff --git a/75367-h/75367-h.htm b/75367-h/75367-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6bd1a00 --- /dev/null +++ b/75367-h/75367-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9049 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Childhood in literature and art | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +hr.chap { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + clear: both; + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +img.w100 { + width: 100%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +ul { + list-style-type: none; +} + +li.indx { + margin-top: .5em; + padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +li.ifrst { + margin-top: 2em; + padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +li.isub1 { + padding-left: 4em; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +td { + padding-left: 2.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.tdr { + text-align: right; +} + +.tdpg { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: right; +} + +.ad { + margin: auto; + max-width: 35em; + border: thin solid black; + padding: 0 1em; +} + +.blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 10%; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.footnotes { + margin-top: 1em; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.gothic { + font-family: 'Old English Text MT', 'Old English', serif; +} + +.hanging { + padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.noindent { + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: 4%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} +.poetry .indent10 {text-indent: 2em;} +.poetry .indent14 {text-indent: 4em;} +.poetry .indent18 {text-indent: 6em;} +.poetry .indent20 {text-indent: 7em;} +.poetry .indent22 {text-indent: 8em;} +.poetry .indent24 {text-indent: 9em;} +.poetry .indent34 {text-indent: 14em;} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.tb { + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 5%; +} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} +.illowp60 {width: 60%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp60 {width: 100%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75367 ***</div> + +<div class="ad"> + +<p class="center larger gothic">Horace E. Scudder</p> + +<p class="hanging">JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL; A Biography. With portraits +and other illustrations, an Appendix, and a full +Bibliography. 2 vols. crown 8vo, $3.50, net.</p> + +<p class="hanging">MEN AND LETTERS. Essays in Characterization and +Criticism. 12mo, gilt top, $1.25.</p> + +<p class="hanging">CHILDHOOD IN LITERATURE AND ART: With some +Observations on Literature for Children, 12mo, gilt top, +$1.25.</p> + +<p class="hanging">NOAH WEBSTER. In American Men of Letters. With +Portrait. 16mo, $1.25.</p> + +<p class="hanging">GEORGE WASHINGTON. An Historical Biography. 16mo, +75 cents. In Riverside School Library, 60 cents, net.</p> + +<p class="hanging">THE DWELLERS IN FIVE SISTERS COURT. A Novel. +16mo, $1.25.</p> + +<p class="hanging">STORIES AND ROMANCES. 16mo, $1.25.</p> + +<p class="hanging">DREAM CHILDREN. Illustrated. 16mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p class="hanging">SEVEN LITTLE PEOPLE AND THEIR FRIENDS. Illustrated. +16mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p class="hanging">STORIES FROM MY ATTIC. For Children. Illustrated. +16mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p class="hanging">BOSTON TOWN. The Story of Boston told to Children. +Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p class="hanging">THE CHILDREN’S BOOK. A Collection of the Best Literature +for Children. Illustrated. Small 4to, $2.50.</p> + +<p class="hanging">THE BOOK OF FABLES. 16mo, 50 cents.</p> + +<p class="hanging">THE BOOK OF FOLK STORIES. 16mo, 60 cents.</p> + +<p class="hanging">THE BOOK OF LEGENDS. 16mo, 50 cents.</p> + +<p class="hanging">THE BODLEY BOOKS. Including Doings of the Bodley +Family in Town and Country, The Bodleys Telling Stories, +The Bodleys on Wheels, The Bodleys Afoot, Mr. +Bodley Abroad, The Bodley Grandchildren and their Journey +in Holland, The English Bodleys, and The Viking Bodleys. +Illustrated. Eight vols. square 8vo, $1.50 per volume; +the set, $12.00.</p> + +<p class="center">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br> +<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span></p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p class="titlepage larger">CHILDHOOD<br> +<span class="smaller">IN LITERATURE AND ART</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage"><i>WITH SOME OBSERVATIONS ON<br> +LITERATURE FOR CHILDREN</i></p> + +<p class="titlepage gothic">A Study</p> + +<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br> +HORACE E. SCUDDER</p> + +<figure class="figcenter titlepage illowp60" id="riverside-press" style="max-width: 12.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/riverside-press.jpg" alt="The Riverside Press"> +</figure> + +<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BOSTON AND NEW YORK</span><br> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br> +<span class="smaller gothic">The Riverside Press, Cambridge</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller">Copyright, 1894,<br> +<span class="smcap">By HORACE E. SCUDDER</span></p> + +<p class="center smaller"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass. U. S. A.</i><br> +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center">TO<br> +<br> +<span class="larger">S · C · S ·</span><br> +<br> +WHO WAS A CHILD WHEN THIS BOOK +WAS WRITTEN</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td class="tdr"></td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">I.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#I">3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In Greek and Roman Literature</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#II">6</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In Hebrew Life and Literature</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#III">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In Early Christianity</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#IV">53</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In Mediæval Art</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#V">81</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In English Literature and Art</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#VI">104</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In French and German Literature</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#VII">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Hans Christian Andersen</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#VIII">201</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">In American Literary Art</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#IX">217</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr"></td> + <td><span class="smcap">Index</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#INDEX">247</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p> + +<h1>CHILDHOOD IN LITERATURE AND ART</h1> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I<br> +<span class="smaller">INTRODUCTION</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>There was a time, just beyond the memory +of men now living, when the Child was +born in literature. At the same period +books for children began to be written. +There were children, indeed, in literature +before Wordsworth created Alice Fell and +Lucy Gray, or breathed the lines beginning,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“She was a phantom of delight,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and there were books for the young before +Mr. Day wrote Sandford and Merton; +especially is it to be noted that Goldsmith, +who was an <i>avant-courier</i> of Wordsworth, +had a very delightful perception of the +child, and amused himself with him in the +Vicar of Wakefield, while he or his double +entertained his little friends in real life with +the Renowned History of Goody Two Shoes.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> +Nevertheless, there has been, since the day +of Wordsworth, such a succession of childish +figures in prose and verse that we are justified +in believing childhood to have been +discovered at the close of the last century. +The child has now become so common that +we scarcely consider how absent he is from +the earlier literature. Men and women are +there, lovers, maidens, and youth, but these +are all with us still. The child has been +added to the <i>dramatis personæ</i> of modern +literature.</p> + +<p>There is a correlation between childhood +in literature and a literature for children, +but it will best be understood when one has +considered the meaning of the appearance +and disappearance of the child in different +epochs of literature and art; for while a +hasty survey certainly assures one that the +nineteenth century regards childhood far +more intently than any previous age, it is +impossible that so elemental a figure as the +child should ever have been wholly lost to +sight. A comparison of literatures with reference +to this figure may disclose some of +the fundamental differences which exist +between this century and those which have +preceded it; it may also disclose a still<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> +deeper note of unity, struck by the essential +spirit in childhood itself. It is not worth +while in such a study to have much recourse +to the minor masters; if a theme so elemental +and so universal in its relations is +not to be illustrated from the great creative +expositors of human nature, it cannot have +the importance which we claim for it.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II<br> +<span class="smaller">IN GREEK AND ROMAN LITERATURE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>When Dr. Schliemann with his little +shovel uncovered the treasures of Mycenæ +and Ilium, a good many timid souls rejoiced +exceedingly over a convincing proof of the +authenticity of the Homeric legends. There +always will be those who find the proof of +a spiritual fact in some corresponding material +fact; who wish to see the bones of +Agamemnon before they are quite ready to +believe in the Agamemnon of the Iliad; to +whom the Bible is not true until its truth +has been confirmed by some external witness. +But when science has done its utmost, +there still remains in a work of art a certain +testimony to truth, which may be illustrated +by science, but cannot be superseded by it. +Agamemnon has lived all these years in the +belief of men without the aid of any cups, +or saucers, or golden vessels, or even bones. +Literature, and especially imaginative literature,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> +is the exponent of the life of a +people, and we must still go to it for our +most intimate knowledge. No careful antiquarian +research can reproduce for us the +women of early Greece as Homer has set +them before us in a few lines in his pictures +of Helen and Penelope and Nausikaä. +When, therefore, we ask ourselves of childhood +in Greek life, we may reconstruct it +out of the multitudinous references in Greek +literature to the education of children, to +their sports and games; and it is no very +difficult task to follow the child from birth +through the nursery to the time when it +assumes its place in the active community: +but the main inquiries must still be, What +pictures have we of childhood? What part +does the child play in that drama which is +set before us in a microcosm by poets and +tragedians?</p> + +<p>The actions of Homer’s heroes are spiritualized +by reflection. That is, as the tree +which meets the eye becomes a spiritual tree +when one sees its answering image in the +pool which it overhangs, so those likenesses +which Homer sets over against the deeds of +his heroes release the souls of the deeds, and +give them wings for a flight in the imagination.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> +A crowd of men flock to the assembly: +seen in the bright reflection of +Homer’s imagination, they are a swarm of +bees:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">“Being abroad, the earth was overlaid</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With flockers to them, that came forth, as when of frequent bees</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Swarms rise out of a hollow rock, repairing the degrees</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of their egression endlessly, with ever rising new</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From forth their sweet nest; as their store, still as it faded, grew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And never would cease sending forth her clusters to the spring,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They still crowd out so; this flock here, that there, belaboring</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The loaded flowers.”<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>So Chapman, in his Gothic fashion, running +up his little spires and pinnacles upon +the building which he has raised from Homer’s +material; but the idea is all Homer’s, +and Chapman’s “repairing the degrees of +their egression endlessly,” with its resonant +hum, is hardly more intentionally a reflex +of sound and motion than Homer’s αἰεὶ νέον +ἐρχομενάων.</p> + +<p>We look again at Chapman’s way of rendering +the caressing little passage in the +fourth book of the Iliad, where Homer, +wishing to speak of the ease and tenderness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> +with which Athene turns aside the arrow +shot at Menelaos, calls up the image of a +mother brushing a fly from the face of her +sleeping child:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Stood close before, and slack’d the force the arrow did confer</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With as much care and little hurt as doth a mother use,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And keep off from her babe, when sleep doth through his powers diffuse</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His golden humor, and th’ assaults of rude and busy flies</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She still checks with her careful hand.”<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here the Englishman has caught the +notion of ease, and emphasized that; yet +he has missed the tenderness, and all because +he was not content to accept the simple +image, but must needs refract it into +“assaults of rude and busy flies.” Better +is the rendering of the picturesque figure in +which Ajax, beset by the Trojans, is likened +to an ass belabored by a pack of boys:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“As when a dull mill ass comes near a goodly field of corn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Kept from the birds by children’s cries, the boys are overborne</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By his insensible approach, and simply he will eat</div> + <div class="verse indent0">About whom many wands are broke, and still the children beat,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And still the self-providing ass doth with their weakness bear,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not stirring till his paunch be full, and scarcely then will steer.”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Apollo, sweeping away the rampart of the +Greeks, does it as easily as a boy, who has +heaped a pile of sand upon the seashore +in childish sport, in sport razes it with feet +and hands. Achilles half pities, half chides, +the imploring, weeping Patroclos, when he +says,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent18">“Wherefore weeps my friend</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So like a girl, who, though she sees her mother cannot tend</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her childish humors, hangs on her, and would be taken up,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Still viewing her with tear-drowned eyes, when she has made her stoop.”<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Chapman’s “hangs on her” is hardly so +particular as Homer’s εἱανοῦ ἀπτομένη, plucks +at her gown; and he has quite missed the +picture offered by the poet, who makes the +child, as soon as she discovers her mother, +beg to be taken up, and insistently stop her +as she goes by on some errand. Here again +the naïve domestic scene in Homer is +charged in Chapman with a certain half-tragic +meaning.</p> + +<p>This, we think, completes the short catalogue<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> +of Homer’s indirect reference to childhood, +and the comparison with the Elizabethan +poet’s use of the same forms brings +out more distinctly the sweet simplicity and +native dignity of the Greek. When childhood +is thus referred to by Homer, it is used +with no condescension, and with no thought +of investing it with any adventitious property. +It is a part of nature, as the bees are +a part of nature; and when Achilles likens +his friend in his tears to a little girl wishing +to be taken up by her mother, he is not +taunting him with being a “cry-baby.”</p> + +<p>Leaving the indirect references, one recalls +immediately the single picture of childhood +which stands among the heroic scenes +of the Iliad. When Hector has his memorable +parting with Andromache, as related +in the sixth book of the Iliad, the +child Astyanax is present in the nurse’s +arms. Here Chapman is so careless that +we desert him, and fall back on a simple +rendering into prose of the passage relating +to the child:—</p> + +<p>“With this, famous Hector reached forth +to take his boy, but back into the bosom of +his fair-girded nurse the boy shrank with +a cry, frightened at the sight of his dear<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> +father; for he was afraid of the brass,—yes, +and of the plume made of a horse’s +mane, when he saw it nodding dreadfully at +the helmet’s peak. Then out laughed his +dear father and his noble mother. Quick +from his head famous Hector took the helmet +and laid it on the ground, where it +shone. Then he kissed his dear son and +tossed him in the air, and thus he prayed +to Zeus and all the gods.... These were +his words, and so he placed the boy, his +boy, in the hands of his dear wife; and +she received him into her odorous bosom, +smiling through her tears. Her husband +had compassion on her when he saw it, and +stroked her with his hand, spoke to her, and +called her by her name.”<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p>Like so many other passages in Homer, +this at once offers themes for sculpture. +Flaxman was right when he presented +his series of illustrations to the Iliad and +Odyssey in outline, and gave a statuesque +character to the groups, though his interpretation +of this special scene is commonplace. +There is an elemental property +about the life exhibited in Homer which +the firm boundaries of sculpture most fitly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> +inclose. Thus childhood, in this passage, is +characterized by an entirely simple emotion,—the +sudden fear of an infant at the sight +of his father’s shining helmet and frowning +plume; while the relation of maturity to +childhood is presented in the strong man’s +concession to weakness, as he laughs and +lays aside his helmet, and then catches and +tosses the child.</p> + +<p>It is somewhat perilous to comment upon +Homer. The appeal in his poetry is so direct +to universal feeling, and so free from the +entanglements of a too refined sensibility, +that the moment one begins to enlarge upon +the sentiment in his epic one is in danger +of importing into it subtleties which +would have been incomprehensible to Homer. +There is preserved, especially in the Iliad, +the picture of a society which is physically +developed, but intellectually unrefined. The +men weep like children when they cannot +have what they want, and the passions which +stir life are those which lie nearest the physical +forms of expression. When we come +thus upon this picture of Hector’s parting +with Andromache, we are impressed chiefly +with the fact that it is human life in outline. +Here are great facts of human experience,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> +and they are so told that not one of them +requires a word of explanation to make it +intelligible to a child. The child, we are +reminded in a later philosophy, is father of +the man, and Astyanax is a miniature Hector; +for we have only to go forward a few +pages to find Hector, when brought face +to face with Ajax, confessing to a terrible +thumping of fear in his breast.</p> + +<p>There is one figure in early Greek domestic +life which has frequent recognition in literature. +It helps in our study of this subject +to find the nurse so conspicuous; in the +passage last quoted she is given an epithet +which is reserved for goddesses and noble +women. The definite regard paid to one so +identified with childhood is in accord with +the open acceptance of the physical aspect +of human nature which is at the basis of the +Homeric poems. The frankness with which +the elemental conditions of life are made to +serve the poet’s purpose, so that eating and +drinking, sleeping and fighting, weeping and +laughing, running and dancing, are familiar +incidents of the poem, finds a place for the +nurse and the house-dog. Few incidents in +the Odyssey are better remembered by its +readers than the recognition of the travel-worn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> +Odysseus by the old watch-dog, and +by the nurse who washes the hero’s feet and +discovers the scar of the wound made by the +boar’s tusk when the man before her was a +youth.</p> + +<p>The child, in the Homeric conception, was +a little human creature uninvested with any +mystery, a part of that society which had itself +scarcely passed beyond the bounds of +childhood. As the horizon which limited +early Greece was a narrow one, and the +world in which the heroes moved was surrounded +by a vast <i>terra incognita</i>, so human +life, in its Homeric acceptance, was one +of simple forms; that which lay beyond tangible +and visible experience was rarely visited, +and was peopled with shapes which +brought a childish fright. There was, in a +word, nothing in the development of man’s +nature, as recorded by Homer, which would +make him look with questioning toward his +child. He regarded the world about him +with scarcely more mature thought than did +the infant whom he tossed in the air, and, +until life should be apprehended in its more +complex relations, he was not likely to see +in his child anything more than an epitome +of his own little round. The contrast between<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> +childhood and manhood was too faint +to serve much of a purpose in art.</p> + +<p>The difference between Homer and the +tragedians is at once perceived to be the +difference between a boy’s thought and a +man’s thought. The colonial growth, the +Persian war, the political development, the +commerce with other peoples, were witnesses +to a more complex life and the quick causes +of a profounder apprehension of human +existence. It happens that we have in the +Œdipus Tyrannus of Sophocles an incident +which offers a suggestive comparison with +the simple picture of the parting of Hector +and Andromache. In the earlier poem, the +hero, expecting the fortunes of war, disdains +all suggestions of prudence, and speaks as a +brave man must, who sets honor above ease, +and counts the cost of sacrifice only to stir +himself to greater courage and resolution. +He asks that his child may take his place in +time, and he dries his wife’s tears with the +simple words that no man can separate him +from her, that fate alone can intervene; in +Chapman’s nervous rendering:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent14">“Afflict me not, dear wife,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With these vain griefs. He doth not live that can disjoin my life</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And this firm bosom but my fate; and fate, whose wings can fly?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here, the impending disaster to Troy, +with the inclusion of Hector’s fortune, +appears as one fact out of many, an incident +in life, bringing other incidents in its train, +yet scarcely more ethical in its relations +than if it followed from the throw of dice. +In the Œdipus, when the king, overwhelmed +by his fate, in the supreme hour of his +anguish takes vengeance upon his eyes, there +follows a passage of surpassing pathos. To +the mad violence has succeeded a moment of +tender grief, and the unhappy Œdipus +stretches out his arms for his children, that +he may bid them farewell. His own terrible +fate is dimmed in his thought by the suffering +which the inevitable curse of the house +is to bring into their lives. He reflects; he +dismisses his sons,—they, at least, can +fight their battles in the world; he turns to +his defenseless little daughters, and pours +out for them the tears of a stricken father. +The not-to-be-questioned fate of Homer, an +inexplicable incident of life, which men +must set aside from calculation and thought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> +because it is inexplicable, has become in +Sophocles a terrible mystery, connecting +itself with man’s conduct, even when that is +unwittingly in violation of divine decree, and +following him with such unrelenting vigilance +that death cannot be counted the end +of perilous life. The child, in the supreme +moment of Hector’s destiny, is to him the +restoration of order, the replacement of his +loss; the children, in the supreme moment +of the destiny of Œdipus, are to him only +the means of prolonging and rendering more +murky the darkness which has fallen upon +him. Hector, looking upon Astyanax, sees +the world rolling on, sunlight chasing +shadow, repeating the life he has known; +Œdipus, looking upon Antigone and Ismene, +sees new disclosures of the possibilities of +a dread power under which the world is +abiding.</p> + +<p>In taking one step more from Sophocles +to Euripides, there is food for thought in a +new treatment of childhood. Whatever view +one may choose to take of Euripides and his +art in its relation to the heroic tragedy, there +can be no question as to the nearness in +which Euripides stands to the characters +of his dramas, and this nearness is shown<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> +in nothing more than in the use which he +makes of domestic life. With him, children +are the necessary illustrations of humanity. +Thus, in the Medea, when Medea is pleading +with Creon for a respite of a day only +from banishment, the argument which prevails +is that which rests on pity for her +little ones, and in the very centre of Medea’s +vengeance is that passion for her children +which bids her slay them rather than +leave them</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Among their unfriends, to be trampled on.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Again, in Alkestis, the last words of the +heroine before she goes to her sacrifice are +a demand of Admetus that the integrity of +their home shall be preserved, and no step-dame +take her place with the children. +Both Alkestis and Admetus, in that wonderful +scene, are imaged to the eye as part of a +group, and, though the children themselves +do not speak, the words and the very gestures +are directed toward them.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> My children, ye have heard your father’s pledge</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Never to set a step-dame over you,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or thrust me from the allegiance of his heart.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> What now I say shall never be unsaid.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> Then here our children I entrust to thee.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> And I receive them as the gage of love.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> Be thou a mother to them in my place.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> Need were, when such a mother has been lost.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> Children, I leave you when I fain would live.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> Alas! what shall I do, bereft of thee?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> Time will assuage thy grief: the dead are nought.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> Take, take me with thee to the underworld.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> It is enough that I must die for thee.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> O Heaven! of what a partner I am reft!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> My eyes grow dim and the long sleep comes on.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> I too am lost if thou dost leave me, wife.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> Think of me as of one that is no more.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> Lift up thy face, quit not thy children dear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> Not willingly; but, children, fare ye well.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> Oh, look upon them, look!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> <span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">My end is come.</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> Oh, leave us not.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Alkestis.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9em;">Farewell.</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Admetus.</i> <span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">I am undone.</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Chorus.</i> Gone, gone; thy wife, Admetus, is no more.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>A fragment of Danaë puts into the mouth +of Danaë herself apparently lines which send +one naturally to Simonides:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“He, leaping to my arms and in my bosom,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Might haply sport, and with a crowd of kisses</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Might win my soul forth; for there is no greater</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love-charm than close companionship, my father.”<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It cannot have escaped notice how large a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> +part is played by children in the spectacular +appointments of the Greek drama. Those +symbolic processions, those groups of human +life, those scenes of human passion, are rendered +more complete by the silent presence +of children. They serve in the temples; +their eyes are quick to catch the coming +of the messenger; they suffer dumbly in the +fate that pulls down royal houses and topples +the pillars of ancestral palaces. It +was impossible that it should be otherwise. +The Greek mind, which found expression in +tragic art, was oppressed by the problems, +not alone of individual fate, but of the subtle +relations of human life. The serpents winding +about Laokoön entwined in their folds +the shrinking youths, and the father’s anguish +was for the destiny which would not +let him suffer alone. Yet there is scarcely +a child’s voice to be heard in the whole +range of Greek poetic art. The conception +is universally of the child, not as acting, far +less as speaking, but as a passive member of +the social order. It is not its individual life +so much as its related life which is contemplated.</p> + +<p>We are related to the Greeks not only +through the higher forms of literature, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> +through the political thought which had +with them both historical development and +speculative representation. It comes thus +within the range of our inquiry to ask what +recognition of childhood there was in writings +which sought to give an artistic form +to political thought. There is a frequent +recurrence by Plato to the subject of childhood +in the state, and we may see in his +presentation not only the germinal relation +which childhood bears, so that education becomes +necessarily one of the significant functions +of government, but also what may not +unfairly be called a reflection of divinity.</p> + +<p>The education which in the ideal state is +to be given to children is represented by +him, indeed, as the evolution from the sensations +of pleasure and pain to the perception +of virtue and vice. “Pleasure and pain,” +he says,<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> “I maintain to be the first perceptions +of children, and I say that they are +the forms under which virtue and vice are +originally present to them. As to wisdom +and true and fixed opinions, happy is the +man who acquires them, even when declining +in years; and he who possesses them,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> +and the blessings which are contained in +them, is a perfect man. Now I mean by +education that training which is given by +suitable habits to the first instincts of virtue +in children; when pleasure and friendship +and pain and hatred are rightly implanted +in souls not yet capable of understanding +the nature of them, and who find them, +after they have attained reason, to be in +harmony with her. This harmony of the +soul, when perfected, is virtue; but the +particular training in respect of pleasure +and pain which leads you always to hate +what you ought to hate, and love what you +ought to love, from the beginning to the +end, may be separated off, and, in my view, +will be rightly called education.”</p> + +<p>In the Republic, Plato theorizes at great +length upon a possible selection and training +of children, which rests for its basis +upon a too pronounced physical assumption, +so that one in reading certain passages might +easily fancy that he was considering the +production of a superior breed of colts, and +that the soul was the product of material +forces only; but the fifth book, which contains +these audacious speculations, may fairly +be taken in the spirit in which Proudhon is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> +said to have thrown out some of his extravagant +assertions,—he expected to be beaten +down in his price.</p> + +<p>There are other passages, especially in +the Laws, in reading which one is struck by +a certain reverence for childhood, as that +interesting one where caution is given +against disturbing the uniformity of children’s +plays on account of their connection +with the life of the state. The modern +theories of the Kindergarten find a notable +support in Plato’s reasoning: “I say that +in states generally no one has observed that +the plays of childhood have a great deal to +do with the permanence or want of permanence +in legislation. For when plays are +ordered with a view to children having the +same plays and amusing themselves after +the same manner and finding delight in the +same playthings, the more solemn institutions +of the state are allowed to remain undisturbed. +Whereas, if sports are disturbed +and innovations are made in them, and they +constantly change, and the young never +speak of their having the same likings or +the same established notions of good and +bad taste, either in the bearing of their +bodies or in their dress, but he who devises<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> +something new and out of the way in figures +and colors and the like is held in special +honor, we may truly say that no greater evil +can happen in a state; for he who changes +the sports is secretly changing the manners +of the young, and making the old to be dishonored +among them, and the new to be +honored. And I affirm that there is nothing +which is a greater injury to all states +than saying or thinking thus.”<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> + +<p>It is, however, most germane to our purpose +to cite a striking passage from the +Laws, in which Plato most distinctly recognizes +the power resident in childhood to assimilate +the purest expression of truth. The +Athenian, in the dialogue, is speaking, and +says: “The next suggestion which I have +to offer is that all our three choruses [that +is, choruses representing the three epochs +of life] shall sing to the young and tender +souls of children, reciting in their strains all +the noble thoughts of which we have already +spoken, or are about to speak; and the sum +of them shall be that the life which is by the +gods deemed to be the happiest is the holiest, +and we shall affirm this to be a most certain +truth; and the minds of our young disciples<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> +will be more likely to receive these words of +ours than any others which we might address +to them....</p> + +<p>“First will enter, in their natural order, +the sacred choir, composed of children, which +is to sing lustily the heaven-taught lay to the +whole city. Next will follow the chorus of +young men under the age of thirty, who will +call upon the God Pæan to testify to the +truth of their words, and will pray to him to +be gracious to the youth and to turn their +hearts. Thirdly, the choir of elder men, who +are from thirty to sixty years of age, will +also sing. There remain those who are too +old to sing, and they will tell stories illustrating +the same virtues, as with the voice +of an oracle.”<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<p>Plato used human society as material from +which to construct an organization artistically +perfect and representing political order, +just as Pheidias or Praxiteles used clay as +a material from which to construct the human +being artistically perfect and representing +the soul of man. With this fine organism +of the ideal state Plato incorporated his +conception of childhood in its two relations +of singing and being sung to. He thought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> +of the child as a member of the three-fold +chorus of life: and when he set these choirs +hymning the divine strain, he made the recipients +of the revelation to be themselves +children, the forming elements of the growing, +organic state. Certainly it is a wide arc +which is spanned by these three great representatives +of Greek art, and in passing from +Homer to Sophocles, and from Sophocles to +Plato, we are not merely considering the +epic, the tragic, and the philosophic treatment +of childhood in literature; we are discovering +the development of the conception +of childhood in a nation which has communicated +to history the eidolon of the fairest +humanity. It is scarcely too much to speak +of it as the evolution of a soul, and to find, +as one so often finds in his study of Greece, +the outline of the course of the world’s +thought.</p> + +<p>The old, formal view of antiquity, which +once placed Grecian life almost beyond the +pale of our human sympathy, and made +the men and women cold marble figures +in our imagination, has given place to a +warmer regard. Through literary reproduction, +which paraphrases Greek life in the +dramatic art of Browning and Fitzgerald,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> +gives us Spencerian versions of Homer, or, +better still, the healthy childlike recital in +Mr. Palmer’s version of the Odyssey, and +enables us to sit down after dinner with +Plato, Mr. Jowett being an idiomatic interpreter; +through the discoveries of Schliemann +and others, by which the mythic and +heroic ages of Greece are made almost +grotesquely familiar,—we are coming to +read Grecian history, in Niebuhr’s felicitous +phrase, as if it really happened, and to lay +aside our artificial and distant ways of becoming +familiar with Greek life. Yet the +means which have led to this modern attitude +toward classic antiquity are themselves +the product of modern life; the secrets of +Greek life are more open to us now because +our own life has become freer, more hospitable, +and more catholic. It is a delight to +us to turn from the marble of Pheidias to +the terra cotta of the unknown modelers of +the Tanagra figurines, while these homelike, +domestic images serve as interpreters, also, +of the larger, nobler designs. So we have +recourse to those fragments of the Greek +Anthology which give us glimpses of Greek +interiors, and by means of them we find a +side-light thrown upon the more majestic +expressions of poetic and dramatic art.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span></p> + +<p>The Anthology gathers for us the epigrams, +epitaphs, proverbs, fables, and little +odds and ends which have been saved from +the ruins of literature, and in turning its +leaves one is impressed by the large number +of references to childhood. It is as when, +rambling through the streets of the uncovered +Pompeii, one comes upon the playthings +of children dead nigh two thousand years. +Here are tender memorials of lost babes in +inscriptions upon forgotten tombs, and laments +of fathers and mothers for the darkness +which has come upon their dwellings. +We seem to hear the prattle of infancy and +the mother’s lullaby. The Greeks, as we, +covered their loss with an instinctive trust in +some better fortune in store for the child, +and hushed their skepticism with the song +of hope and the remembrance of stories +which they had come in colder hours to disbelieve. +Here, for example, is an anonymous +elegy:—</p> + +<p>“Thou hast not, O ruler Pluto, with pious +intent, stolen for thy underground world a +girl of five years, admired by all. For thou +hast cut, as it were, from the root, a sweet-scented +rose in the season of a commencing +spring, before it had completed its proper<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> +time. But come, Alexander and Philtatus; +do not any longer weep and pour forth lamentations +for the regretted girl. For she +had, yes, she had a rosy face which meant +that she should remain in the immortal dwellings +of the sky. Trust, then, to stories of +old. For it was not Death, but the Naiads, +who stole the good girl as once they stole +Hylas.”<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p> + +<p>Perhaps the most celebrated of these tender +domestic passages is to be found in the +oft-quoted lines from Simonides, where +Danaë sings over the boy Perseus:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“When in the ark of curious workmanship</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The winds and swaying waters fearfully</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Were rocking her, with streaming eyes, around</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her boy the mother threw her arms and said:</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">“‘O darling, I am very miserable;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But thou art cosy-warm and sound asleep</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In this thy dull, close-cabin’d prison-house,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Stretched at full ease in the dark, ebon gloom.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Over thy head of long and tangled hair</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The wave is rolling; but thou heedest not;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor heedest thou the noises of the winds,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wrapt in thy purple cloak, sweet pretty one.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">“‘But if this fearful place had fear for thee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Those little ears would listen to my words;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sleep on, baby, and let the sea-waves sleep,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And sleep our own immeasurable woes.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O father Zeus, I pray some change may come;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But, father, if my words are over-bold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have pity, and for the child’s sake pardon me.’”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>As before we stopped in front of the +charming group which Homer gives us in +the parting of Hector and Andromache, +with the child Astyanax set in the midst, so +in taking the poet who occupies the chief +place in Latin literature we find a significant +contrast. The picture of Æneas bearing +upon his shoulders the aged Anchises and +leading by the hand the young Ascanius is +a distinct Roman picture. The two poems +move through somewhat parallel cycles, and +have adventures which are common to both; +but the figure of Odysseus is essentially a +single figure, and his wanderings may easily +be taken to typify the excursions of the +human soul. Æneas, on the other hand, +seems always the centre of a family group, +and his journeyings always appear to be +movements toward a final city and nation. +The Greek idea of individuality and the +Roman of relationship have signal illustration<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> +in these poems. Throughout the Æneid +the figure of Ascanius is an important one. +There is a nice disclosure of growth in personality, +and one is aware that the grandson +is coming forward into his place as a +member of the family, to be thereafter representative. +The poet never loses sight of +the boy’s future. Homer, in his shield of +Achilles, that microcosm of human life, forgets +to make room for children. Virgil, in +his prophetic shield, shows the long triumphs +from Ascanius down, and casts a light upon +the cave wherein the twin boys were suckled +by the wolf. One of the most interesting +episodes in the Æneid is the childhood of +Camilla, in which the warrior maid’s nature +is carried back and reproduced in diminutive +form. The evolutions of the boys in +the fifth book, while full of boyish life, +come rather under the form of mimic soldiery +than of spontaneous youth. In one of +the Eclogues, Virgil has a graceful suggestion +of the stature of a child by its ability to +reach only the lowest branches of a tree.</p> + +<p>Childhood, in Roman literature, is not +contemplated as a fine revelation of nature. +In the grosser conception, children are reckoned +as scarcely more than cubs; but with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> +the strong hold which the family idea had +upon the Roman mind, it was impossible +that in the refinement which came gradually +upon life childhood should not play a part +of its own in poetry, and come to represent +the more spiritual side of the family life. +Thus Catullus, in one of his nuptial odes, +has a charming picture of infancy awaking +into consciousness and affection:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Soon my eyes shall see, mayhap,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Young Torquatus on the lap</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of his mother, as he stands</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Stretching out his tiny hands,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And his little lips the while</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Half open on his father’s smile.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“And oh! may he in all be like</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Manlius, his sire, and strike</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Strangers when the boy they meet</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As his father’s counterfeit,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And his face the index be</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of his mother’s chastity.”<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The epitaphs and the elegies of the Greek +Anthology have their counterpart in Latin. +Mr. Thompson has tried his hand at a passage +from Statius:<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="center">ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall I not mourn thee, darling boy? with whom,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Childless I missed not children of my own;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I, who first caught and pressed thee to my breast,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And called thee mine, and taught thee sounds and words,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And solved the riddle of thy murmurings,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And stoop’d to catch thee creeping on the ground,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And propp’d thy steps, and ever had my lap</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ready, if drowsy were those little eyes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To rock them with a lullaby to sleep;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thy first word was my name, thy fun my smile,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And not a joy of thine but came from me.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There is, too, that epitaph of Martial on +the little girl Erotion, closing with the lines +which may possibly have been in Gray’s +mind when he wrote the discarded verse of +his Elegy, Englished thus:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Let not the sod too stiffly stretch its girth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Above those tender limbs, erstwhile so free;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Press lightly on her form, dear Mother Earth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her little footsteps lightly fell on thee.”<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In the literature which sounds the deeper +waters of life, we find references to childhood; +but the child rarely, if ever, draws +the thought outside of the confines of this +world. As near an approach as any to a perception +of the mystery of childhood is in a +passage in Lucretius, where the poet looks +down with compassion upon the new-born +infant as one of the mysteries of nature: +“Moreover, the babe, like a sailor cast +ashore by the cruel waves, lies naked on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> +ground, speechless, in need of every aid to +life when first nature has cast him forth by +great throes from his mother’s womb, and he +fills the air with his piteous wail, as befits +one whose doom it is to pass through so +much misery in life.”<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> Lucretius displayed +a profound reverence for human affection. +Scattered through his great poem are fine +lines in which childhood appears. “Soon,” +he says, in one mournful passage,—“soon +shall thy home receive thee no more with +glad welcome, nor thy dear children run to +snatch thy first kiss, touching thy heart with +silent gladness.”<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> + +<p>Juvenal, with the thought of youth as the +possible restoration of a sinking world, utters +a cry, which has often been taken up by +sensualists even, when he injects into his +pitiless satire the solemn words, “the greatest +reverence is due to the boy.”<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p> + +<p>Any survey of ancient Greek and Roman +life would be incomplete which left out of +view the supernatural element. We need +not inquire whether there was a conscious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> +materialization of spiritual forces, or an +idealization of physical phenomena. We +have simply to do with certain shapes and +figures which dwelt in the mind and formed +a part of its furniture; coming and going +like shadows, yet like shadows confessing a +forming substance; embodying belief and +symbolizing moods. In that overarching +and surrounding world, peopled by the +countless personages of Greek and Roman +supernaturalism, we may discover, if we will, +a vague, distorted, yet sometimes transcendent +reflection of the life which men and +women were living upon the more palpable +and tangible earth.</p> + +<p>What, then, has the childhood of the gods +to tell us? We have the playful incident +of Hermes, or Mercurius, getting out of his +cradle to steal the oxen of Admetos, and the +similar one of Herakles strangling the snakes +that attacked him just after his birth; but +these are simply stories intended to carry +back into childhood the strength of the one +and the cunning of the other. It is more to +our purpose to note the presence in the Pantheon +of the child who remains always a +child, and is known to us familiarly as Eros, +or Cupid, or Amor. It is true that the myth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> +includes the union of Cupid and Psyche; +nevertheless, the prevailing conception is of +a boy, winged, armed with bow and arrows, +the son and messenger of Venus. It may +be said that the myth gradually adapted +itself to this form, which is not especially +apparent in the earlier stories. The figure +of Love, as thus presented, has been more +completely adopted into modern poetry than +any other in the old mythology, and it cannot +be said that its characteristics have been +materially altered. It is doubtful whether +the ancient idea was more simple than the +same when reproduced in Thorwaldsen’s +sculpture, or in Ben Jonson’s Venus’ Runaway. +The central conception is essentially +an unmoral one; it knows not right or +wrong, good or evil; the mischief-making is +capricious, and not malicious. There is the +idea only of delight, of an innocence which +is untutored, of a will which is the wind’s +will. It would seem as if, in fastening upon +childhood as the embodiment of love, the +ancients, as well as their modern heirs, were +bent upon ridding life of conscience and +fate,—upon making love to have neither +memory nor foresight, but only the joy of +the moment. This sporting child was a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> +refuge, in their minds, from the ills of life, +a residence of the one central joy of the +world. There is an infinite pathos in the +erection of childhood into a temple for the +worship of Love. There was, indeed, in the +reception of this myth, a wide range from +purity to grossness, as the word “love” itself +has to do service along an arc which subtends +heaven and hell; but when we distill +the poetry and art which gather about the +myth of Cupid, the essence will be found in +this conception of love as a child,—a conception +never wholly lost, even when the +child was robbed of the purity which we recognize +as its ideal property. It should be +noted, also, that the Romans laid hold of +this idea more eagerly than did the Greeks; +for the child itself, though more artistically +set forth in Greek literature, appears as a +more vital force in Roman literature.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III<br> +<span class="smaller">IN HEBREW LIFE AND LITERATURE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The literature of Greece and Rome is a +possession of the modern world. For the +most part it has been taken as an independent +creation, studied indeed with reference +to language as the vehicle of thought, but +after all chiefly as an art. It is within a +comparatively recent time that the conception +of an historical study of literature has +been prominent, and that men have gone to +Greek and Roman poetry with an eager +passion for the discovery of ancient life. +The result of these new methods has been +to humanize our conception of the literature +under examination.</p> + +<p>Singularly enough, while the modern world +has been influenced by the classic world +chiefly through its language, literature, and +institutions, the third great stream of influence +which has issued from ancient +sources has been one in which literature as +such has been almost subordinated to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> +religious and ethical ideas of which it was +the vehicle; even the strong institutional +forces inherent in it have had only exceptional +attention. There was a time, indeed, +when the history of the Jews, as contained +in the books of the Old Testament, was isolated +from the history of mankind and +treated in an artificial manner, at its best +made to illustrate conduct, somewhat as +Latin literature was made to exemplify +syntax. The old distinction of sacred and +profane history did much to obscure the +human element in what was called sacred +history, and to blot out the divine element +in what was called profane history. There +are many who can remember the impression +made upon their minds when they learned +for the first time of the contemporaneousness +of events in Jewish and Grecian history; and +it is not impossible that some can even recall +a period in their lives when Bible people +and the Bible lands were almost as distinct +and separate in their conception as if they +belonged to another planet.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the reality of Old Testament +history, while suffering from lack of proportion +in relation to other parts of human history, +has been impressed upon modern civilization<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> +through its close identification with +the religious life. The inheritance of these +scriptures of the ancient Hebrew has been +so complete that the modern Jew is regarded +almost as a pretender when he sets up a +claim to special possession. We jostle him +out of the way, and appropriate his national +documents as the old title-deeds of Christianity. +There is, indeed, an historic truth +involved in this; but, however we may regard +it, we are brought back to the significant +fact that along with the Greek and the Roman +influence upon modern life has been +the mighty force of Hebraism. The Greek +has impressed himself upon our modes and +processes of thought, the Roman upon our +organization, the Hebrew upon our religious +and social life.<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> + +<p>It is certain that the Bible has been a +storehouse from which have been drawn +illustrations of life and character, and that +these have had an authority beyond anything +in classic history and literature. It +has been the book from which youth with us +has drawn its conceptions of life outside of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> +the limited circle of human experience; and +the geographical, historical, and archæological +apparatus employed to illustrate it has +been far more considerable than any like +apparatus in classical study. The Bible has +been the university to the person of ordinary +culture; it has brought into his life a foreign +element which Greece and Rome have +been powerless to present; and though the +images of this remote foreign life often +have been distorted, and strangely mingled +with familiar notions, there can be no doubt +that the mind has been enlarged by this +extension of its interests and knowledge.</p> + +<p>It is worth while, therefore, to ask what +conceptions of childhood are discoverable in +the Old Testament literature. The actual +appearances of children in the narrative +portions are not frequent. We have the +incident of the exposure of Moses as a babe +in the bulrushes; the sickness and death of +Bathsheba’s child, with the pathetic story +of the erring father’s fasting and prayer; +the expulsion of Ishmael; the childhood +of Samuel in the temple; the striking narrative +of the restoration of the son of the +widow of Zarephath by Elijah; and the still +more graphic and picturesque description<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> +of the bringing back to life by Elisha of +the child who had been born at his intercession +to the Shunamite, and had been +sunstruck when in the field with his father. +Then there is the abrupt and hard to be +explained narrative of the jeering boys who +followed the prophet Elisha with derisive +cries, as they saw how different he was in +external appearance from the rugged and +awe-inspiring Elijah. Whatever may be +the interpretation of the fearful retribution +which befell those rude boys, and the indication +which was shown of the majesty of the +prophetic office, it is clear that the Jew of +that day would not have felt any disproportion +between the guilt of the boys and their +dire and speedy punishment; he would have +been impressed by the sanctity of the prophet, +and the swiftness of the divine demonstration. +Life and death were nothing +before the integrity of the divine ideal, and +the complete subordination of children to +the will of their parents accustomed the +mind to an easy assent to the exhibition of +what seems to us almost arbitrary will.</p> + +<p>No attentive reader of the Old Testament +has failed to remark the prominence given +to the preservation of the family succession,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> +and to the birth of male children. That +laugh of Sarah—at first of scorn, then of +triumph—sounds out from the early records +with a strange, prophetic voice; and one +reads the thirtieth chapter of the book of +Genesis with a sense of the wild, passionate +rivalry of the two wives of Jacob, as they +bring forth, one after another, the twelve +sons of the patriarch. The burst of praise +also from Hannah, when she was freed from +her bitter shame and had brought forth her +son Samuel, has its echo through history +and psalm and prophecy until it issues in +the clear, bell-like tones of the Magnificat, +thenceforward to be the hymn of triumph of +the Christian church. The voice of God, +as it uttered itself in commandment and +prophetic warning, was for children and +children’s children to the latest generation. +It is not the person so much as the family +that is addressed, and the strongest warnings, +the brightest promises to the fathers, +are through the children. The prophet Hosea +could use no more terrible word to the +people than when, speaking as the mouthpiece +of God, he says: “Seeing thou hast +forgotten the law of thy God, I will also +forget thy children;”<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> and Zechariah, inspiriting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> +the people, declares: “They shall +remember me in far countries; and they +shall live with their children.”<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> The promise +of the golden age of peace and prosperity +has its climax in the innocence of +childhood. “There shall yet old men and +old women dwell in the streets of Jerusalem, +and every man with his staff in his hand for +very age. And the streets of the city shall +be full of boys and girls playing in the +streets thereof;”<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> while the lofty anticipation +of Isaiah, in words which still serve +as symbols of hopeful humanity, reaches its +height in the prediction of a profound peace +among the very brutes, when the wolf and +the lamb, the leopard and the kid, the calf, +the young lion, and the fatling shall not only +lay aside their mutual hate and fear, but +shall be obedient to the tender voice and +gentle hand of a little child, and even the +noxious reptiles shall be playmates for the +infant.<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> In the Greek fable, Hercules in +his cradle strangled the snakes by his might; +in the Jewish picture, the child enters fearlessly +the very dens of the asp and the +adder, secure under the reign of a perfect +righteousness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span></p> + +<p>Milton, in his Ode on the Morning of +Christ’s Nativity, has pointed out this parallel:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“He feels from Judah’s land</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dreaded infant’s hand,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyne;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor all the gods beside</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Longer dare abide,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our babe, to show his Godhead true,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Can in his swaddling bands control the damnëd crew.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>To the Jew, childhood was the sign of fulfillment +of glorious promises. The burden +of psalm and prophecy was of a golden age +to come, not of one that was in the dim past. +A nation is kept alive, not by memory, but +by hope. The God of Abraham and of Isaac +and of Jacob was the God of a procession of +generations, a God of sons and of sons’ sons; +and when we read, in the last words of the +last canonical book of the Old Testament, +that “he shall turn the heart of the fathers +to the children, and the heart of the children +to their fathers,”<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> we are prepared for +the opening, four centuries later, of the last +chapter in the ancient history of this people. +In the adoration there of the child we seem +to see the concentration of Jewish hope<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> +which had for centuries found expression in +numberless ways. The Magnificat of Mary +is the song of Hannah, purified and ennobled +by generations of deferred hope, and in +all the joy and prophecy of the shepherds, +of Simeon and of Anna, we listen to strains +which have a familiar sound. It is indeed +the expectation of what this child will be +and do which moves the pious souls about it, +but there is a direct veneration of the babe +as containing the hope of the people. In +this supreme moment of the Jewish nation, +age bows itself reverently before childhood, +and we are able by the light which the event +throws backward to perceive more clearly +how great was the power of childhood, +through all the earlier periods, in its influence +upon the imagination and reason. We +may fairly contend that the apprehension of +the sanctity of childhood was more positive +with the Jew than with either the Greek or +the Roman.</p> + +<p>It remains, however, that this third great +stream of humanity passes out, in the New +Testament, from its Hebraic limitations, and +we are unable, except by a special effort, to +think of it as Jewish at all. The Gospels +transcend national and local and temporal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> +limits, and we find ourselves, when considering +them, reading the beginnings of modern, +not the close of Jewish history. The incidents +lying along the margin of the Gospels +and relating to the birth of the Christ do, +as we have seen, connect themselves with the +earlier national development, but the strong +light which comes at the dawn of Christianity +inevitably draws the mind forward to the +new day.</p> + +<p>The evangelists record no incidents of the +childhood of Jesus which separate it from +the childhood of other of the children of +men. The flight into Egypt is the flight +of parents with a child; the presence of the +boy in the temple is marked by no abnormal +sign, for it is a distorted imagination which +has given the unbiblical title to the scene,—Christ +disputing with the Doctors, or Christ +teaching in the Temple. But as the narrative +of the Saviour’s ministry proceeds, we +are reminded again and again of the presence +of children in the multitudes that flocked +about him. The signs and wonders which +he wrought were more than once through +the lives of the young, and the suffering +and disease of humanity which form the +background in the Gospels upon which we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> +see sketched in lines of light the outline of +the redeeming Son of Man are shown in the +persons of children, while the deeper life of +humanity is disclosed in the tenderness of +parents. It is in the Gospels that we have +those vignettes of human life,—the healing +of the daughter of Jairus, the delivery of the +boy possessed with devils, that striking antithesis +to the transfiguration which Raphael’s +genius has served to fix in the mind, +the healing of the nobleman’s son, and the +blessing of children brought to the Master +by their fond mothers. Most notable, too, +is the scene of the final entry into Jerusalem, +when the Saviour appeared to accept +from children the tribute which he shunned +when it came from their elders.</p> + +<p>Here, as in other cases, we ask what was +the attitude of the Saviour toward children, +since the literature of the New Testament is +so confessedly a revelation of life and character +that we instinctively refuse to treat it +otherwise. In vain do we listen to those +who point out the ethical beauty of the Sermon +on the Mount, or the pathos of this or +that incident; our minds break through all +considerations of style and form, to seize +upon the facts and truths in their relation to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> +life. We do not ask, what is the representation +of childhood to be found in the writings +of certain Jews known as Matthew, Mark, +Luke, and John; we ask, what is there between +children and the central figure disclosed +in those writings. We ask purposely, +for, when we leave behind this ancient world, +we enter upon the examination of literature +and art which are never beyond the horizon +lying under the rays of the Sun of Righteousness. +The attitude which Christ took +toward children must contain the explanation +of the attitude which Christianity takes +toward the same, for the literature and art +of Christendom become the exponents of +the conception had of the Christ.</p> + +<p>There are two or three significant words +and acts which leave us in no doubt as to +the general aspect which childhood wore to +Jesus Christ. In the conversation which he +held with the intellectual Nicodemus, he +asserted the necessity of a new birth for +mankind; in the rite of baptism he symbolized +the same truth; he expanded this word +again, accompanying it by a symbolic act, +when he placed a child in the midst of his +disciples and bade them begin life over +again; he illustrated the truth by an acted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> +parable, when he called little children to +him with the words, “Of such is the kingdom +of heaven;” he turned from the hard, +skeptical men of that generation with the +words of profound relief: “I thank thee, +O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that +thou hast hid these things from the wise +and prudent, and hast revealed them unto +babes;” he symbolized the charity of life +in the gift of a cup of cold water to a child.</p> + +<p>The eyes of this Jesus, the Saviour of +men, were ever upon the new heavens and +the new earth. The kingdom of heaven +was the burden of his announcement; the +new life which was to come to men shone +most plainly in the persons of young children. +Not only were the babes whom he +saw and blessed to partake of the first +entrance into the kingdom of the spirit, but +childhood possessed in his sight the potency +of the new world; it was under the protection +of a father and mother; it was fearless +and trusting; it was unconscious of self; it +lived and did not think about living. The +words of prophets and psalmists had again +and again found in the throes of a woman +in labor a symbol of the struggle of humanity +for a new generation. By a bold and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> +profound figure it was said of the great central +person of humanity: “He shall see of +the travail of his soul and be satisfied.” A +foregleam of that satisfaction is found in +his face as he gazes upon the children who +are brought to him. There is sorrow as +he gazes upon the world, and his face is +set toward Jerusalem; there is a calm joy +as he places a child before him and sees in +his young innocence the promise of the +kingdom of heaven; there is triumph in +his voice as he rebukes the men who +would fain shut the mouths of the shouting +children that run before him.</p> + +<p>The pregnant words which Jesus Christ +used regarding childhood, the new birth, +and the kingdom of heaven become indicative +of the great movements in life and literature +and art from that day to this. The +successive gestations of history have their +tokens in some specific regard of childhood. +There have been three such periods, so +mighty that they mark each the beginning +of a new heaven and a new earth. The first +was the genesis of the Christian church; +the second was the Renaissance; the third +had its great sign in the French Revolution.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV<br> +<span class="smaller">IN EARLY CHRISTIANITY</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The parabolic expression, “Destroy this +temple, and in three days I will raise it up,” +has been applied with force to the destruction +of Judaism, and the reconstruction +upon its ruins of a living Christianity. It +may be applied with equal justice, though +in more recondite sense, to the death of the +old literature and art, and the resurrection +of the beautiful creations of the human +mind in new form. The three days were +more than a thousand years, and during +that long sleep what had become of those +indestructible forces of imagination and reason +which combine in literature and art? +Roughly speaking, they were disjoined, and +only when reunited did they again assert +themselves in living form. The power +which kept each in abeyance was structural +Christianity, and only when that began to +be burst asunder by the vital force inherent +in spiritual Christianity was there opportunity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> +for the free union of the imagination +and reason. As the Jewish temple could +no longer inclose divinity, but was thrust +apart by the expansive power of the Christianity +which was fostered within it, so the +Christian church, viewed as an institution +which aimed at an inclosure of humanity, +was in its turn disrupted by the silent +growth of the human spirit which had fed +within its walls upon the divine life. After +the birth of Christianity the parallel continuity +of the old world was broken. The +Greek, the Roman, and the Hebrew no +longer carried forward their separate movements. +Christianity, professing to annul +these forces, had taken their place in history. +Again, at the Renaissance, it was found +that the three great streams of human +thought had been flowing underground; +they reissued to the light in a generous +flood, each combining with the others.</p> + +<p>It was during this long period of apparent +inaction in literature and art that the imagination, +dissevered from reason, was in a +state of abnormal activity. The compression +of its field caused the faculty to find expression +through forms which were very closely +connected with the dominant sphere of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> +human life. Before religious art and ecclesiastical +architecture had become the abundant +expression of Christian imagination, +there was generated a great mass of legend +and fable, which only by degrees became +formally embodied in literature or perpetuated +in art and symbol. The imaginative +faculty had given it, for material in which +to work the new life, the soul of man as +distinctly related to God. An ethical principle +lay at the foundation of Christianity, +and the imagination, stimulated by faith, +built with materials drawn from ethical life. +The germinal truth of Christianity, that +God had manifested himself to men in the +person of Jesus Christ, however it might be +obscured or misunderstood, was the efficient +cause of the operations of the Christian +imagination. This faculty set before itself +the perfect man, and in that conceived not +the physical and intellectual man of the +Greek conception, nor the Cæsar of the +Roman ideal, nor even the moral man of +the Jewish light, but a man whose perfection +was the counterpart of the perfection of +God and its great exemplar, the man Jesus +Christ. In his life the central idea of service, +of victory through suffering and humiliation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> +of self-surrender, and of union with +God was perceived with greater or less +clearness, and this idea was adumbrated in +that vast gallery of saints constructed by +Christianity in its ceaseless endeavor to +reproduce the perfect type. Through all +the extravagance and chaotic confusion of +the legendary lore of the mediæval church, +one may discover the perpetually recurring +notes of the perfect life. The beatitudes—those +spiritual witnesses of the redeemed +human character—are ever floating before +the early imagination, and offering the standards +by which it measures its creations. +It was by no fortuitous suggestion, but by a +profound sense of fitness, that the church +made the gospel of All Saints’ Day to consist +of those sentences which pronounce the +blessedness of the poor in spirit, the meek, +and the persecuted for righteousness sake; +while the epistle for the same day is the +roll-call of the saints who are to sit on the +thrones of the twelve tribes, and of the multitudes +who have overcome the world.</p> + +<p>It is not strange, therefore, that the imagination, +busying itself about the spiritual +life of man, should have dwelt with special +emphasis upon those signs of the new life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> +brought to light in the Gospels, which +seemed to contain the promise of perfection. +It seized upon baptism as witnessing to a +regeneration; it traced the lives of saints +back to a childhood which began with baptism; +it invested the weak things of the +world with a mighty power; and, keeping +before it the pattern of the Head of the +church, it traced in the early life of the Saviour +powers which confounded the common +wisdom of men. It dwelt with fondness +upon the adoration of the Magi, as witnessing +to the supremacy of the infant Redeemer; +and, occupied as it was with the idea of a +suffering Saviour, it carried the cross back +to the cradle, and found in the Massacre of +the Innocents the type of a substitution and +vicarious sacrifice.</p> + +<p>The simple annals of the Gospels shine +with great beauty when confronted by the ingenuity +and curious adornment of the legends +included in the so-called Apocryphal Gospels. +Yet these legends illustrate the eagerness +of the early Christian world to invest +the person of Jesus with every possible charm +and power; and since the weakness of infancy +and childhood offers the strongest contrast +to works of thaumaturgy, this period is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> +very fully elaborated. A reason may also be +found in the silence of the evangelists, which +needed to be broken by the curious. Thus, +when, in the flight into Egypt, the Holy +Family was made to seek rest in a cave, there +suddenly came out many dragons; and the +children who were with the family, when they +saw the dragons, cried out in great terror.</p> + +<p>“Then Jesus,” says the narrative, “went +down from the bosom of his mother, and +stood on his feet before the dragons; and +they adored Jesus, and thereafter retired.... +And the young child Jesus, walking +before them, commanded them to hurt no +man. But Mary and Joseph were very much +afraid lest the child should be hurt by the +dragons. And Jesus said to them; ‘Do not +be afraid, and do not consider me to be a +little child; for I am and always have been +perfect, and all the beasts of the field must +needs be tame before me.’ Lions and panthers +adored him likewise, and accompanied +them in the desert. Wherever Joseph and +the blessed Mary went, these went before +them, showing them the way and bowing +their heads, and showing their submission by +wagging their tails; they adored him with +great reverence. Now at first, when Mary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> +saw the lions and the panthers, and various +kinds of wild beasts coming about them, she +was very much afraid. But the infant Jesus +looked into her face with a joyful countenance, +and said: ‘Be not afraid, mother; for +they come not to do thee harm, but they +make haste to serve both thee and me.’ +With these words he drove all fear from +her heart. And the lions kept walking with +them, and with the oxen and the asses and +the beasts of burden which carried their +baggage, and did not hurt a single one of +them; but they were tame among the sheep +and the rams which they had brought with +them from Judæa, and which they had with +them. They walked among wolves and feared +nothing, and no one of them was hurt by +another.”<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p> + +<p>So, too, when Mary looked helplessly up +at the fruit of a palm-tree hanging far out +of her reach, the child Jesus, “with a joyful +countenance, reposing in the bosom of his +mother, said to the palm, ‘O tree, bend thy +branches, and refresh my mother with thy +fruit.’ And immediately at these words the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> +palm bent its top down to the very feet of +the blessed Mary; and they gathered from +its fruit, with which they were all refreshed. +And after they had gathered all its fruit, it +remained bent down, waiting the order to +rise from him who had commanded it to stoop. +Then Jesus said to it, ‘Raise thyself, O palm-tree, +and be strong, and be the companion +of my trees which are in the paradise of my +Father; and open from thy roots a vein of +water which has been hid in the earth, and +let the waters flow, so that we may be satisfied +from thee.’ And it rose up immediately, +and at its root there began to come forth a +spring of water, exceedingly clear and cool +and sparkling. And when they saw the +spring of water they rejoiced with great joy, +and were satisfied, themselves and all their +cattle and their beasts. Wherefore they +gave thanks to God.”</p> + +<p>The legends which relate to the boyhood +of Jesus carry back with a violent or confused +sense the acts of his manhood. Thus +he is represented more than once as willing +the death of a playmate, and then contemptuously +bringing him to life again. A favorite +story grossly misconceives the incident +of Christ with the Doctors in the temple, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> +makes him turn his schoolmaster into ridicule. +There are other stories, the incidents +of which are not reflections of anything in +the Gospels, but are used to illustrate in a +childish way the wonder-working power of +the boy. Here is one which curiously mingles +the miraculous power with the Saviour’s +doctrine of the Sabbath:—</p> + +<p>“And it came to pass, after these things, +that in the sight of all Jesus took clay from +the pools which he had made, and of it made +twelve sparrows. And it was the Sabbath +when Jesus did this, and there were very +many children with him. When, therefore, +one of the Jews had seen him doing this, he +said to Joseph, ‘Joseph, dost thou not see +the child Jesus working on the Sabbath at +what it is not lawful for him to do? For +he has made twelve sparrows of clay.’ And +when Joseph heard this, he reproved him, +saying, ‘Wherefore doest thou on the Sabbath +such things as are not lawful for us to +do?’ And when Jesus heard Joseph he +struck his hands together, and said to his +sparrows, ‘Fly!’ and at the voice of his +command they began to fly. And in the +sight and hearing of all that stood by he said +to the birds, ‘Go and fly through the earth,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> +and through all the world, and live.’ And +when those that were there saw such miracles +they were filled with great astonishment.”</p> + +<p>It is interesting to note how many of these +stories connect the child with animals. The +passage in Isaiah which prophesied the +great peace in the figure of a child leading +wild beasts had something to do with this; +so had the birth of Jesus in a manger, and +the incident of the entry into Jerusalem: +but I suspect that the imagination scarcely +needed to hunt very far or very curiously +for suggestions, since the world over childhood +has been associated with brute life, +and the writers of the Apocryphal Gospels +had only to make these animals savage when +they would illustrate the potency of the +childhood of Jesus.</p> + +<p>“There is a road going out of Jericho,” +says the Pseudo-gospel of Matthew, “and +leading to the river Jordan, to the place +where the children of Israel crossed; and +there the ark of the covenant is said to have +rested. And Jesus was eight years old, +and he went out of Jericho and went towards +the Jordan. And there was beside the +road, near the banks of the Jordan, a cave,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> +where a lioness was nursing her cubs; and +no one was safe who walked that way. +Jesus, then, coming from Jericho, and knowing +that in that cave the lioness had brought +forth her young, went into it in the sight +of all. And when the lions saw Jesus they +ran to meet him, and adored him. And +Jesus was sitting in the cavern, and the +lion’s cubs ran hither and thither round his +feet, fawning upon him and sporting. And +the older lions, with their heads bowed +down, stood at a distance and adored him, +and fawned upon him with their tails. +Then the people, who were standing afar +off, not seeing Jesus, said, ‘Unless he or his +parents had committed grievous sins, he +would not of his own accord have offered +himself up to the lions.’ And when the +people were thus reflecting within themselves, +and were lying under great sorrow, +behold, on a sudden, in the sight of the +people, Jesus came out of the cave, and the +lions went before him, and the lion’s cubs +played with each other before his feet. +And the parents of Jesus stood afar off, +with their heads bowed down, and watched; +likewise, also, the people stood at a distance, +on account of the lions; for they did not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> +dare to come close to them. Then Jesus +began to say to the people, ‘How much better +are the beasts than you, seeing that they +recognize their Lord and glorify him; while +you men, who have been made after the +image and likeness of God, do not know +him! Beasts know me, and are tame; men +see me, and do not acknowledge me.’”</p> + +<p>To the mind of these early Christians the +life of Jesus was compounded of holiness +and supernatural power; so far as they distinguished +these, the holiness was the cause +of the power, and hence, when the imagination +fashioned saints out of men and women, +it followed the same course which it had +taken with the Master. The childhood of +the saints was an anticipation of maturer +virtues and powers, rather than a manifestation +of ingenuous innocence. There was a +tendency to explain exceptional qualities in +lives by extending them backward into +youth, thereby gaining for them an apparent +corroboration. The instances of this in the +legends are frequent. Mothers, like the +Virgin Mary, have premonitions that their +children are to be in some special manner +children of God, and the characteristics of +later life are foreshadowed at birth. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> +Virgin herself was thus dealt with. The +strong human feeling which subsequently, +when the tenderness of Christ had been petrified +into judgment, interposed the Virgin +as mediator, found gratification in surrounding +Mary’s infancy and childhood with a +supernatural grace and power, the incidents +in some cases being faint reflections of incidents +in the life of her son; as when we are +told that Joachim and Anna carried Mary, +then three years old, to place her among the +virgins in the temple of God. “And when +she was put down before the doors of the +temple, she went up the fifteen steps so +swiftly that she did not look back at all; +nor did she, as children are wont to do, seek +for her parents. Whereupon her parents, +each of them anxiously seeking for the child, +were both alike astonished until they found +her in the temple, and the priests of the +temple themselves wondered.”</p> + +<p>In like manner a halo of light played +about S. Catherine’s head when she was +born. The year of the birth of S. Elizabeth +of Hungary was full of blessings to her country; +the first words she uttered were those +of prayer, and when three years old she gave +signs of the charity which marked her life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> +by giving her toys and garments to those +less fortunate than herself. A pretty story +is told of her betrothal to Prince Louis of +Thuringia. Herman of Thuringia sent an +embassy to the king of Hungary, desiring +the little Elizabeth, then only four years +old, for his son; and the maiden accompanied +the embassy, carrying with her a silver +cradle and silver bath, which her father had +given her. She was betrothed to Louis, and +the little pair played happily together in the +same cradle. S. Genevieve of Paris was +a maiden of seven, who tended a flock of +sheep at the village of Narterre. Hither +came S. Germain, and when the inhabitants +were assembled to receive his benediction +his eyes rested on the little shepherdess, and +seeing her saintliness he set her apart as a +bride of Christ. S. Gregory Nazianzen had +a dream when he was a boy, in which two +heavenly virgins of celestial beauty visited +him: they were Chastity and Temperance, +and so captivating was their presence, so +winning were their words, that he awoke to +take perpetual vows of continence. S. John +Chrysostom was a dull boy at school, and so +disturbed was he by the ridicule of his fellows +that he went into a church to pray to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> +the Virgin for help. A voice came from the +image: “Kiss me on the mouth, and thou +shalt be endowed with all learning.” He +did this, and when he returned to his school-fellows +they saw a golden circle about his +mouth, and his eloquence and brilliancy astounded +them. Martyrdom was the portion +of these saintly children as well as of their +elders. The story is told of Hilarion, one +of the four children of Saturninus the priest, +that when the proconsul of Carthage thought +to have no difficulty in dealing with one of +tender age, the child resisted all cajolings +and threats. “I am a Christian,” said the +little fellow. “I have been at the collect +[that is, assisted as an acolyte], and it was +of my own voluntary choice, without any +compulsion.” Thereupon the proconsul, who +was probably a father, threatened him, as +the story runs, “with those little punishments +with which children are accustomed +to be chastised,” but the child only laughed +at the idea of giving up his faith for fear of +a whipping. “I will cut off your nose and +ears!” shouted the exasperated inquisitor. +“You may do it, but I shall be a Christian +still,” replied the undaunted boy; and when +he was ordered off to prison with the rest,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> +he was heard to pipe forth, “God be +thanked,” and so was led away.</p> + +<p>These random incidents are, for the most +part, mainly anticipatory of mature experience. +They can be matched with the details +of Protestant hagiology as recorded in a +class of books more common forty years ago +than now. It is their remoteness that lends +a certain grace and charm to them. The +life of a little Christian in the fourth century +is invested with an attraction which is +wanting in the circumstance of some juvenile +saint living in the midst of indifferent scoffers +of the early part of the nineteenth century.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, however, the legends inclose +the saintly attributes in some bit of romance, +or betray a simple, ingenuous sympathy with +childish nature. The legend of S. Kenelm +has a faint suspicion of kinship with the +story of the babes in the wood. King Kenwulf +of Wessex died, and left two daughters, +Cwendrida and Burgenilda, and a son +of seven years, named Kenelm. The elder +of the daughters wished the child out of the +way, that she might reign; so she gave +money to Askbert, his guardian, the wicked +uncle of the story, and bade him privily slay<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> +the boy. So Askbert took Kenelm into a +wood, as if for a hunt, and by and by the +child, tired with the heat, fell asleep under +the shade of a tree. Askbert, seeing his +time had come, set to work to dig a grave, +that all might be in readiness; but Kenelm +woke, and said, “It is in vain that you think +to kill me here. I shall be slain in another +spot. In token whereof, see this rod blossom;” +and so saying, he stuck a stick into +the ground, and it instantly took root and +began to flower. In after days it was a +great ash-tree, known as S. Kenelm’s ash. +Then Askbert took the little king to another +spot, and the child, now wide awake, began +to sing the Te Deum. When he came to the +verse, “The noble army of martyrs praise +Thee,” Askbert cut off his head, and then +buried him in the wood. Just as he did +this, a white dove flew into the church of S. +Peter in Rome, and laid on the high altar a +letter, which it bore in its beak. The letter +was in English, and it was some time before +any one could be found who could read it. +Then it was discovered that Kenelm had +been killed and his body hidden away. The +Pope thereupon wrote letters into England +telling of this sorry affair, and men went<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> +forth to find the body of the little king. +They were led by a pillar of light, which +stood over the place where the body lay. +So they bore it off and buried it; but they +built a chapel over the spot where they had +found the body, which is known as S. Kenelm’s +chapel to this day. There the chapel +stands near Hales Owen; how else did it +get its name? and as Mr. Freeman sagely +remarks, “It is hard to see what should +have made anybody invent such a tale, if +nothing of the kind had ever happened.”</p> + +<p>Another of the stories which has a half +fairy-tale character is that of the martyrdom +of the little S. Christina, who was shut up in +a high tower by her father, and bidden spend +her time before gold and silver gods; his private +purpose being to keep her out of the +way of troublesome lovers. Christina tired +of her divine playthings, and in spite of her +father’s indulgence, since he obligingly took +away all the images but three, would have +nothing to do with false gods. She was visited +by angels and instructed in Christianity. +She combined courage in her new faith with +a fine spirit of adventure; for she is represented +as smashing the idols, letting herself +down by a rope from her tower-prison, distributing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> +the fragments of the idols among +the poor, and clambering up again before +morning. Her martyrdom showed various +ingenious inventions of torture, but the odd +part of the story is the manner in which the +gold and silver idols always suggest a girl’s +playthings. We are told that when she was +taken into the temple of Apollo she bade +the idol step down and walk about the temple +until she sent it back to its place. Then, +proceeds the story gravely, she was put in a +cradle filled with boiling pitch and oil, and +four soldiers were set to rocking her.</p> + +<p>In these and similar stories which abound +in the Acta Sanctorum, the simple attributes +of childish nature rarely shine through the +more formal covering of churchly investiture. +Nature could not always be expelled, but +the imagination, busy with the construction +of the ideal Christian life, was more concerned, +as time went on, to make that conform +to an ecclesiastical standard. It is +pathetic to see the occasional struggle of +poor humanity to break through the meshes +in which it was entangled. The life of S. +Francis of Assisi is full of incidents which +illustrate this. His familiar intercourse +with birds and beasts was but one of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> +signs of an effort to escape from the cage in +which he was an unconscious prisoner. One +night, we are told, he rose suddenly from +the earthen floor which made his bed and +rushed out into the open air. A brother +monk, who was praying in his cell, looked +through his window and saw S. Francis, +under the light of the moon, fashion seven +little figures of snow. “Here is thy wife,” +he said to himself: “these four are thy sons +and daughters; the other two are thy servant +and handmaid: and for all these thou +art bound to provide. Make haste, then, +and provide clothing for them, lest they +perish with cold. But if the care of so +many trouble thee, be thou careful to serve +the Lord alone.” The injunction to give up +father and mother and family for the Lord’s +sake, when obeyed by one so tremulously +alive to human sympathy as was S. Francis, +had in it a power suddenly to disclose the +depths of the human soul; nor can it be +doubted that those who, like S. Francis, +were eagerly thrusting aside everything +which seemed to stand between them and +the realization of the divine life paid heed +to the significant words of the Lord which +made a child the symbol of that life. In<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> +practical dealing with the evils of the world +the early church never lost sight of children. +Orphans, especially the orphans of martyrs, +were a sacred charge, and when monasteries +arose and became, at least in the West, +centres of civilization, they were refuges for +foundlings as well as schools for the young. +It is one of the distinct signs of the higher +life which Christianity was slowly bringing +into the world that the church adopted and +protected children as children, for their own +sakes. Foundlings had before been nurtured +for the sake of profit, and we can +easily do poor human nature the justice to +believe in instances where pity and love had +their honest sway; but it certainly was left +to the church to incorporate in its very constitution +that care of helpless childhood +which springs from a profound sense of the +dignity of life, and a growing conviction of +the rights which pertain to personality.</p> + +<p>For the history of Christianity is in the +development of personality, and childhood +has, from the beginning, come under the +influence of a power which has been at work +lifting the world into a recognition of its +relation to God. It was impossible that the +few significant words spoken by Christ<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> +should be forgotten; nevertheless, they do +not seem to have impressed themselves upon +the consciousness of men. At least it may +be said that in the growth of Latin Christianity +they do not come forward specifically +as furnishing the ground and reason for a +regard for childhood. The work to be done +by the Latin church was largely one of +organizing human society under an anthropomorphic +conception of God. It gave a +certain fixed objectivity to God, placed him +at a distance from the world, and made the +approach to him to be by a succession of +intermediary agents. Nevertheless, the hierarchy +which resulted rested upon ethical +foundations. The whole grand scheme did, +in effect, rivet and fix the sense of personal +responsibility and personal integrity. It +made each man and woman aware of his and +her relation to law in the person of its ministers, +and this law was a law which reached +to the thoughts of the heart.</p> + +<p>The system, as such, had little to do with +childhood. It waited for its close, but it +pushed back its influence over the line of +adolescence, making as early as might be +the day when the child should come into +conscious relation with the church. Through<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> +the family, however, it powerfully affected +the condition of childhood, for by its laws +and its ritual it was giving religious sanction +to the family, even while it was gradually +divorcing itself from humanity under plea +of a sanctity which was more than human. +Its conception of a religious devotedness +which was too good for this world, whereby +contempt of the body was put in place of +redemption of the body, and celibacy made +more honorable than marriage, undermined +its hold upon the world, which it sought to +govern and to furnish with ideals.</p> + +<p>Inasmuch as this great system dealt with +persons in relations which could be exactly +defined and formulated, it would be idle to +seek in the literature which reflects it for +any considerable representation of that period +of human life in which the forms are as +yet undetermined. Nevertheless, childhood +exercises even here its subtle power of recalling +men to elemental truths. Dante was +the prophet of a spiritual Rome, which he +saw in his vision outlined against the background +of the existing hierarchy. It would +be in vain to search through the Divine +Comedy for many references to childhood. +As he says himself in the Inferno,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“For this is not a sportive enterprise</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To speak the universe’s lowest hold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor suits a tongue that Pa and Mammy cries.”<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">And the only picture of childhood in that +vision is the melancholy one of the horrid +sufferings of Count Ugolino and his children +in the Tower of Hunger. In the Paradiso +there are two passages of interest. +Near the close of the twenty-seventh canto, +Beatrice, breaking forth into a rapt utterance +of the divine all in all, suddenly checks +herself as she remembers how the curse of +covetousness shuts men out from entrance +into the full circle of divine movement, and +then, with a swift and melancholy survey of +the changes in human life, cries bitterly:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Faith, Art, and Innocence are found alone</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With little children; then they scatter fast</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Before the down across the cheek have grown.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There is that lispeth, and doth learn to fast,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who afterward, with tongue untied from May</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To April, down his throat all meats will cast.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There is that, lisping, loveth to obey</div> + <div class="verse indent2">His mother, and he’ll wish her in the tomb,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When sentences unbroken he can say.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Again, in the thirty-second canto, S. Bernard +is pointing out the circles of the Rose, +and after denoting the degrees of saints +before Christ and after, proceeds:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“And from the seats, in midway rank, that knit</div> + <div class="verse indent2">These double files, and downwards, thou wilt find</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That none do for their own deserving sit,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But for another’s under terms assigned;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For every one of these hath been set free</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ere truly self-determined was the mind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This by the childish features wilt thou see,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">If well thou scan them, and if well thou list</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wilt hear it by the childlike symphony.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Dante is perplexed by the difference even +in these innocent babes, but S. Bernard +reminds him that there is difference in endowment, +but that all are subject to the +divine all-embracing law:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“And therefore these, who took such hasty flight,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Into the true life not without a cause</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are entered so, these more, and those less, bright,”—</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">an interpretation of the vision which is +really less scholastic than suggested by the +deeper insight of the poetic mind.</p> + +<p>The most significant passage, however, is +found in the famous words at the beginning +of the Vita Nuova, which fix Dante’s first +sight of Beatrice when he was nine years old. +“And since,” he closes, “to dwell upon the +passions and actions of such early youth +seems like telling an idle tale, I will leave +them, and, passing over many things which +might be drawn from the original where<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> +these lie hidden, I will come to those words +which are written in my memory under +larger paragraphs.”<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> In these last words +is apparent Dante’s own judgment upon the +worth of his recollections of childhood: one +page only in that book of his memory he +deems worthy of regard,—the page upon +which fell the image of Beatrice. It will be +said with truth that the childhood of Dante +and Beatrice is in reality the beginning of +maturity, for it is counted only as the initiation +of a noble passion. The time, indeed, +had not yet come in the history of human +life when the recollection of that which is +most distinctive of childhood forms the basis +of speculation and philosophic dream.</p> + +<p>The absence of childhood from the visions +of Dante is a negative witness to the absence +from the world, in the age prior to the Renaissance, +of hope and of simple faith and +innocence. Dante’s faint recognition of these +qualities throws them back into a quickly +forgotten and outgrown childhood. The lisping +child becomes the greedy worldling, the +cruel and unloving man, and the tyranny of +an empire of souls is hinted at in the justification +by the poet of the presence of innocent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> +babes in Paradise; they are there by +the interposition of a sacrificial act. The +poet argues to still the doubts of men at finding +these children in Paradise. It would +almost seem as if the words had been forgotten +which characterized heaven through the +very image of childhood.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it is not to be wondered at that +childhood was little regarded by an age +which found its chief interest in a thought +of death. “Even the gay and licentious +Boccaccio,” we are reminded by Mr. Pater, +“gives a keener edge to his stories by putting +them in the mouths of a party of people +who had taken refuge from the plague in +a country house.”<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> The great Florentine +work was executed under this dominant +thought; nevertheless, an art which is +largely concerned about tombs and sepulchral +monuments implies an overweening +pride in life and a weightier sense of the +years of earth. The theology which had furnished +the panoply within which the human +soul was fighting its battle emphasized the +idea of time, and made eternity itself a prolongation +of human conditions. The imagination, +at work upon a future, constructed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> +it out of the hard materials of the present, +and was always looking for some substantial +bridge which should connect the two worlds; +seeing decay and change here, it transferred +empires and powers to the other side of the +gulf, and sought to reërect them upon an +everlasting basis.</p> + +<p>Such thought had little in common with +the hope, the fearlessness, the faith, of childhood, +and thus childhood as an image had +largely faded out of art and literature. One +only great exception there was,—the representation +in art of the child Jesus; and in +the successive phases of this representation +may be read a remarkable history of the +human soul.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V<br> +<span class="smaller">IN MEDIÆVAL ART</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The power of Christianity lies in its +prophecy of universality, and the most significant +note of this power is in its comprehension +of the poor and the weak, not +merely as the objects of a benediction proceeding +from some external society, but as +themselves constituent members of that +society, sharing in all its rights and fulfilling +its functions. When the last great +prophet of Israel and forerunner of Judaic +Christianity sent to inquire what evidence +Jesus of Nazareth could give that he was +the Christ, the answer which came back had +the conclusive words, “To the poor the gospel +is preached.” The same Jesus, when he +would give his immediate followers the completest +type of the kingdom which was to +prevail throughout the world, took a child, +and set him in the midst of them. There +is no hardly gained position in the development +of human society which may not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> +find its genetic idea in some word or act of +the Son of Man, and the proem to the great +song of an expectant democracy is in the +brief hour of the first Christian society, +which held all things in common.</p> + +<p>The sketch of a regenerated human society, +contained in the New Testament, has +been long in filling out, and the day which +the first generation of Christians thought so +near at hand has thus far had only a succession +of proleptic appearances; but from the +first the note of the power of Christianity, +which lies in the recognition of poverty and +weakness, has never been wanting, and has +been most loudly struck in the great epochs +of Christian revival. In the struggle after +purity of associated life, which had its witness +in the orders of the church, poverty +was accepted as a necessary condition, and +the constructive genius of the human mind, +dealing with the realities of Christian faith, +rose to its highest point in presenting, not +the maturity, but the infancy of Jesus +Christ. Each age offers its contribution to +the perfection of the Christian ideal, and +while, in the centuries lying on either side +of the Renaissance, the church as an ecclesiastical +system was enforcing the dogma of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> +mediatorial sacrifice as something outside of +humanity, the spirit of God, in the person +of great painters, was drawing the thoughts +of men to the redemption of the world, +which lies in the most sacred of human relations. +The great efflorescence of art, which +we recognize as the gift of these centuries, +has left as its most distinctive memorial the +type of Christianity expressed in the Madonna.</p> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>In the Holy Family the child is the essential +figure. In the earliest examples of the +mother and child, both Mary and Jesus are +conceived as symbols of religious faith, and +the attitude of the child is unchildlike, being +that of a dispenser of blessings with uplifted +hand. The group is not distinctly of the +mother and child, but of the Virgin and the +Saviour, the Saviour being represented as +a child in order to indicate the ground of +the adoration paid to the Virgin. They +stand before one as possessed of coördinate +dignity. It is a curious and suggestive fact +that the Byzantine type of the Madonna, +which rarely departed much from this symbolic +treatment, has continued to be the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> +preference of those whose conceptions of the +religious life are most closely identified with +a remote sacramentarianism. The Italian +lemonade-seller has a Byzantine Madonna +in his booth: the Belgian churches abound +in so-called sacred pictures: the Russian +merchant salutes an icon of the same type; +and the ritualistic enthusiast of the Anglican +revival modifies his æsthetic views by +his religious sympathy, and stops short in +his admiration with Cimabue and Giotto.</p> + +<p>In the development of the Madonna from +its first form as a rigid symbol to its latest +as a realistic representation of motherhood, +we are aware of a change in the minds of +the people who worship before the altars +where the pictures are placed, and in the +minds of the painters who produce the +almost endless variations on this theme. +The worshipper, dispossessed of a belief in +the fatherhood of God, came to take refuge +in the motherhood of Mary. Formally +taught the wrath of God, he found in the +familiar relation of mother and child the +most complete type vouchsafed to him of +that love which the church by many informal +ways bade him believe lay somewhere +in the divine life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span></p> + +<p>Be this as it may, the treatment of the +subject in a domestic and historical form +followed the treatment in a religious and +ecclesiological mode. In the earlier representations +of the Madonna there was a twofold +thought exhibited. The mother was +the queen of heaven, and she derived her +dignity from the child on her knee. Hence +she is sometimes shown adoring the child, +and the child looks up into the mother’s +face with his finger on his lip, expressive of +the utterance, I am the Word. This adoration +of the child by the mother was, however, +but a transient phase: the increasing worship +paid to the Virgin forbade that she +should be so subordinated; and in the gradual +expansion of the theme, by which saints +and martyrs and angels were grouped in attendant +ministry, more and more importance +was attached to the person of the Virgin. +The child looks up in wonder and affectionate +admiration. He caresses her, and +offers her a child’s love mingled with a +divine being’s calm self-content.</p> + +<p>For throughout the whole period of the +religious presentation of the Madonna, even +when the Madonna herself is conspicuously +the occasion of the picture, we may observe<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> +the influence of the child,—an influence +sometimes subtle, sometimes open and manifest. +It is not enough to say that this child +is Jesus, as it is not enough to say that the +mother is the Virgin Mary. The divine +child is the sign of an ever-present childhood +in humanity; the divine mother the +sign of a love which the religion of Christianity +never wholly forgot. The common +imagination was perpetually seeking to relieve +Mary and Jesus of all attributes which +interfered with the central and inhering relation +of mother and child: through this +type of love the mind apprehended the gospel +of Christianity as in no other way.</p> + +<p>Indeed, this apotheosis of childhood and +maternity is at the core of the religion of +hope which was inclosed in the husk of +mediæval Christianity, and it was made the +theme of many variations. Before it had +ceased to be a symbol of worship, it was offering +a nucleus for the expression of a more +varied human hope and interest. The Holy +Family in the hands of painters and sculptors, +and the humbler class of designers +which sprang into notice with the introduction +of printing and engraving, becomes +more and more emblematic of a pure and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> +happy domestic group. Joseph is more frequently +introduced, and John Baptist appears +as a playmate of the child Jesus; +sometimes they are seen walking in companionship. +Certain incidents in later life are +symbolically prefigured in the realistic treatment +of homely scenes, as in the Madonna +by Giulio Romano, where the child stands +in a basin, while the young S. John pours +water upon him, Mary washes him, S. Elizabeth +stands by holding a towel, and S. +Joseph watches the scene,—an evident prefigurement +of the baptism in the Jordan. +Or again, Mary, seated, holds the infant +Christ between her knees; Elizabeth leans +over the back of the chair; Joseph rests +on his staff behind the Virgin; the little +S. John and an angel present grapes, while +four other angels are gathering and bringing +them. By such a scene Ippolito Andreasi +would remind people that Jesus is +the true vine.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The recognition of childhood as the heart +of the family is discoverable even more emphatically +in the art of the northern people, +among whom domestic life always had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> +greater respect. It may seem a trivial reason, +but I suspect nature holds the family +more closely together in cold countries, +which compel much indoor and fireside life, +than in lands which tempt to vagrancy. At +any rate, the fact remains that the Germanic +peoples have been home-cultivating. It did +not need the Roman Tacitus to find this out, +but his testimony helps us to believe that +the disposition was a radical one, which +Christianity reinforced rather than implanted. +Lord Lindsay makes the pregnant +observation, “Our Saviour’s benediction of +the little children as a subject [is] from +first to last Teutonic,—I scarcely recollect +a single Italian instance of it;”<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> and in the +revival of religious art, at which Overbeck +and Cornelius assisted, this and similar subjects, +by their frequency, mark a differentiation +from art south of the Alps, whose +traditions, nevertheless, the German school +was consciously following.</p> + +<p>Although of a period subsequent to the +Renaissance, an excellent illustration of the +religious representation of the childhood of +Jesus in northern art is contained in a series +of twelve prints executed in the Netherlands,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> +and described in detail by Mrs. Jameson.<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> +The series is entitled The Infancy of our +Lord God and Saviour Jesus Christ, and +the title-page is surrounded by a border +composed of musical instruments, spinning-wheels, +distaffs, and other implements of +female industry, intermixed with all kinds +of masons’ and carpenters’ tools. In the first +of the prints, the figure of Christ is seen in +a glory, surrounded by cherubim. In the +second, the Virgin is seated on the hill of +Sion; the infant in her lap, with outspread +arms, looks up to a choir of angels, and is +singing with them. In the third, Jesus slumbering +in his cradle is rocked by two angels, +while Mary sits by, engaged in needlework. +Beneath is a lullaby in Latin which has +been translated:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mother sits beside thee, smiling,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Sleep my darling, tenderly!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If thou sleep not, mother mourneth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Singing as her wheel she turneth,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Come soft slumber, balmily!”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">The fourth shows the interior of a carpenter’s +shop: Joseph is plying his work, while +Joachim stands near him; the Virgin is +measuring linen, and S. Anna looks on;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> +two angels are at play with the infant Christ, +who is blowing soap-bubbles. In the fifth +picture, Mary prepares the family meal, +while Joseph is in the background chopping +wood; more in front, Jesus sweeps together +the chips, and two angels gather them. In +the sixth, Mary is seen reeling off a skein of +thread; Joseph is squaring a plank; Jesus +is picking up chips, again assisted by two +angels. The seventh shows Mary seated at +her spinning-wheel; Joseph, aided by Jesus, +is sawing through a large beam, the two +angels standing by. The eighth is somewhat +similar: Mary holds her distaff, while +Joseph saws a beam on which Jesus stands, +and the two angels help in the work. In +the ninth print, Joseph is busy building the +framework of a house, assisted by one of +the angels; Jesus is boring with a large +gimlet, the other angel helping him; and +Mary winds thread. In the next, Joseph is +at work roofing the house; Jesus, in company +with the angels, carries a beam up the +ladder; while below, in front, Mary is carding +wool or flax. The eleventh transfers +the work, with an apparent adaptation to +Holland, to the building of a boat, where +Joseph is helped by Jesus, who holds a hammer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> +and chisel, still attended by the angels; +the Virgin is knitting a stocking, and the +newly built house is seen in the background. +In the last of the series, Joseph is erecting +a fence round a garden; Jesus, with the +help of the angels, is fastening the palings +together; while Mary is weaving garlands +of roses.</p> + +<p>Here is a reproduction of the childhood +of the Saviour in the terms of a homely +Netherland family life, the naturalistic treatment +diversified by the use of angelic machinery. +The prints were a part of the apparatus +used by the priests in educating the +people. However such instruction may have +fallen short of the highest truths of Christianity, +its recognition of the simple duties +of life and its enforcement of these by the +example of the Son of Man make us slow to +regard such interposition of the church as +remote from the spirit of Christ. If, as is +quite possible, these prints were employed +by the Jesuits, then their significance becomes +doubly noticeable. In that vigorous +attempt by Loyola and his order to maintain +an organic Christian unity against the +apparent disruption of Christianity, such a +mode as this would find a place as serving<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> +to emphasize that connection between the +church and the family which the Jesuits instinctively +felt to be essential to the supremacy +of the former.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Whatever light the treatment of the Madonna +subject may throw upon the ages in +which it is uppermost in men’s thoughts, +the common judgment is sound which looks +for the most significance in the works of +Raphael. Even those who turn severely +away from him, and seek for purer art in +his predecessors, must needs use his name +as one of epochal consequence. So many +forces of the age meet in Raphael, who was +peculiarly open to influences, that no other +painter can so well be chosen as an exponent +of the idea of the time; and as one +passes in review the successive Madonnas, +one may not only detect the influence of +Perugino, of Leonardo, of Michelangelo, +and other masters, but may see the ripening +of a mind, upon which fell the spirit +of the age, busy with other things than +painting.</p> + +<p>Of the early Madonnas of Raphael, it is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> +noticeable how many present the Virgin +engaged in reading a book, while the child +is occupied in other ways, sometimes even +seeking to interrupt the mother and disengage +her attention. Thus in one in the +Berlin museum, which is formal, though +unaffected, Mary reads a book, while the +child plays with a goldfinch; in the Madonna +in the Casa Connestabile, at Perugia, +the child plays with the leaves of the book; +in the Madonna del Cardellino, the little S. +John presents a goldfinch to Jesus, and the +mother looks away from her book to observe +the children; in that at Berlin, which is +from the Casa Colonna, the child is held on +the mother’s knee in a somewhat struggling +attitude, and has his left hand upon the top +of her dress, near her neck, his right upon +her shoulder, while the mother, with a look +of maternal tenderness, holds the book aside. +In the middle period of Raphael’s work this +motive appears once at least in the St. +Petersburg Madonna, which is a quiet landscape-scene, +where the child is in the Madonna’s +lap: she holds a book, which she +has just been reading; the little S. John +kneels before his divine companion with +infantine grace, and offers him a cross,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> +which he receives with a look of tender +love; the Madonna’s eyes are directed to +the prophetic play of the children with a +deep, earnest expression.</p> + +<p>The use of the book is presumably to +denote the Madonna’s piety; and in the +earlier pictures she is not only the object of +adoration to the worshipper, who sees her in +her earthly form, yet endowed with sinless +grace, but the object also of interest to the +child, who sees in her the mother. This +reciprocal relation of mother and child is +sometimes expressed with great force, as in +the Madonna della Casa Tempi, in the Pinacothek +at Munich, where the Virgin, who +is standing, tenderly presses the child’s head +against her face, while he appears to whisper +words of endearment. In these and +other of the earlier Madonnas of Raphael, +there is an enthusiasm, and a dreamy sentiment +which seems to seek expression chiefly +through the representation of holy womanhood, +the child being a part of the interpretation +of the mother. The mystic solemnity +of the subject is relieved by a lightness of +touch, which was the irrepressible assertion +of a strong human feeling.</p> + +<p>Later, in what is called his middle period,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> +a cheerfulness and happy contemplation of +life pervade Raphael’s work, as in the +Bridgewater Madonna, where the child, +stretched in the mother’s lap, looks up with +a graceful and lively action, and fixes his +eyes upon her in deep thought, while she +looks back with maternal, reverent joy. +The Madonna of the Chair illustrates the +same general sentiment, where the mother +appears as a beautiful and blooming woman, +looking out of the picture in the tranquil +enjoyment of motherly love; the child, full +and strong in form, leans upon her bosom +in a child’s careless attitude, the picture of +trust and content.</p> + +<p>The works of Raphael’s third period, and +those executed by his pupils in a spirit and +with a touch which leave them sometimes +hardly distinguishable from the master’s, +show a profounder penetration of life, and +at the same time a firmer, more reasonable +apprehension of the divinity which lies inclosed +in the subject. Mary is now something +more than a young man’s dream of +virginal purity and maternal tenderness,—she +is also the blessed among women; the +infant Christ is not only the innocent, playful +child, but the prophetic soul, conscious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> +of his divinity and his destiny. These characteristics +pervade both the treatment which +regards them as historic personages and that +which invests them with adorable attributes +as having their throne in heaven. The +Holy Family is interpreted in a large, +serious, and dignified manner, and in the +exalted, worshipped Madonna there is a like +vision of things eternal seen through the +human form.</p> + +<p>To illustrate this an example may be +taken of each class. The Madonna del Passegio, +in the Bridgewater gallery, is a well-known +composition, which represents the Madonna +and child walking through a field; +Joseph is in advance, and has turned to look +for the others. They have been stopped +by the infant S. John Baptist, clad in a +rough skin, who presses eagerly forward to +kiss Jesus. The mother places a restraining +hand upon the shoulders of S. John, +and half withdraws the child Jesus from his +embrace. A classic grace marks Jesus, who +looks steadfastly into the eyes of the impassioned +John. The three figures in the principal +group are conceived in a noble manner: +S. John, prophesying in his face the discovery +of the Lamb of God; Mary, looking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> +down with a sweet gravity which marks the +holy children, and would separate Jesus as +something more than human from too close +fellowship with John; Jesus himself, a picture +of glorious childhood, with a far-reaching +look in his eye, as he gently thrusts +back the mother with one hand, and with +the other lays hold of the cross which John +bears.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, an example of the +treatment of the adorable Madonna is that +of San Sisto, in the Dresden gallery. It +is not necessary to dwell on the details of +a picture which rises at once to every one’s +mind. The circumstance of innumerable +angels’ heads, of the attendant S. Sixtus +and S. Barbara, the sweep of cloud and +drapery, the suggestion of depths below and +of heights above, of heaven itself listening +at the Madonna’s feet,—all these translate +the mother and babe with ineffable sweetness +and dignity into a heavenly place, and +make them the centre of the spiritual universe. +Yet in all this Raphael has rested +his art in no elaborate use of celestial +machinery. He has taken the simple, elemental +relation, and invested it with its eternal +properties. He gives not a supernatural<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> +and transcendent mother and child, but a +glorified humanity. Therefore it is that +this picture, and with it the other great Madonnas +of Raphael, may be taken entirely +away from altar and sanctuary, and placed +in the shrine of the household. The universality +of the appeal is seen in the unhesitating +adoption of the Sistine Madonna as an +expression of religious art by those who are +even antagonistic to the church which called +it forth.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The concentration of Raphael’s genius to +so large an extent upon the subject of the +Madonna was not a mere accident of the +time, nor, when classic forms were renewing +their power, was it a solecism. The spirit +of the Renaissance entered profoundly into +Raphael’s work, and determined powerfully +the direction which it took. When he was +engaged upon purely classic themes, it is +interesting to see how frequently he turned +to the forms of children. His decorative +work is rich with the suggestion which they +bring. One may observe the graceful figures +issuing from the midst of flower and +leaf; above all, one may note how repeatedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> +he presents the myth of Amor, and +recurs to the Amorini, types of childhood +under a purely naturalistic conception.</p> + +<p>The child Jesus and the child Amor +appear side by side in the creations of +Raphael’s genius. In the great Renaissance, +of which he was so consummate an exponent, +the ancient classic world and the Christian +met in these two types of childhood: +the one a childhood of the air, unmixed +with good or evil; the other a childhood of +heaven and earth, proleptic of earthly conflict, +proleptic also of heavenly triumph. +The coincidence is not of chance. The new +world into which men were looking was not, +as some thought, to be in the submersion of +Christianity and a return to Paganism, nor, +as others, in a stern asceticism, which should +render Christianity an exclusive church, +standing aloof from the world as from a +thing wholly evil. There was to be room for +truth and love to dwell together, and the +symbol of this union was the child. Raphael’s +Christ child drew into its features a +classic loveliness; his Amor took on a Christ-like +purity and truthfulness.</p> + +<p>Leslie, in his Handbook for Young Painters, +makes a very sensible reflection upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> +Raphael’s children, as distinguished from the +unchildlike children of Francia, for example. +“A fault of many painters,” he says, +“in their representations of childhood is, +that they make it taking an interest in what +can only concern more advanced periods of +life. But Raphael’s children, unless the subject +requires it should be otherwise, are as +we see them generally in nature, wholly unconcerned +with the incidents that occupy the +attention of their elders. Thus the boy, in +the cartoon of the Beautiful Gate, pulls the +girdle of his grandfather, who is entirely +absorbed in what S. Peter is saying to the +cripple. The child, impatient of delay, wants +the old man to move on. In the Sacrifice at +Lystra, also, the two beautiful boys placed +at the altar, to officiate at the ceremony, are +too young to comprehend the meaning of +what is going on about them. One is +engrossed with the pipes on which he is +playing, and the attention of the other is attracted +by a ram brought for sacrifice. The +quiet simplicity of these sweet children has +an indescribably charming effect in this picture, +where every other figure is under the +influence of an excitement they alone do +not partake in. Children, in the works of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> +inferior painters, are often nothing else than +little actors; but what I have noticed of Raphael’s +children is true, in many instances, +of the children in the pictures of Rembrandt, +Jan Steen, Hogarth, and other great painters, +who, like Raphael, looked to nature for +their incidents.”</p> + +<p>There was one artist of this time who +looked to nature not merely for the incidents +of childhood, but for the soul of childhood +itself. It is impossible to regard the +work of Luca della Robbia, especially in +that ware which receives his name, without +perceiving that here was a man who saw +children and rejoiced in their young lives +with a simple, ingenuous delight. The very +spirit which led this artist to seek for expression +in homely forms of material, to domesticate +art, as it were, was one which would +make him quick to seize upon, not the incidents +alone, but the graces, of childhood. +Nor is it straining a point to say that the +purity of his color was one with the purity +of this sympathy with childhood. The Renaissance +as a witness to a new occupation +of the world by humanity finds its finest +expression in the hope which springs in the +lovely figures of Luca della Robbia.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p> + +<p>It is significant of this Renaissance—it +is significant, I think we shall find, of every +great new birth in the world—that it turns +its face toward childhood, and looks into +that image for the profoundest realization +of its hopes and dreams. In the attitude of +men toward childhood we may discover the +near or far realization of that supreme hope +and confidence with which the great head +of the human family saw, in the vision of a +child, the new heaven and the new earth. +It was when his disciples were reasoning +among themselves which of them should be +the greatest that Jesus took a child, and set +him by him, and said unto them, “Whosoever +shall receive this child in my name receiveth +me.” The reception of the Christ +by men, from that day to this, has been +marked by successive throes of humanity, +and in each great movement there has been +a new apprehension of childhood, a new +recognition of the meaning involved in the +pregnant words of the Saviour. Such a recognition +lies in the children of Raphael and +of Luca della Robbia. There may have been +no express intimation on their part of the +connection between their works and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> +great prophecy, but it is often for later generations +to read more clearly the presence of +a thought by means of light thrown back +upon it. The course of Christianity since +the Renaissance supplies such a light.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<br> +<span class="smaller">IN ENGLISH LITERATURE AND ART</span></h2> + +</div> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>To hunt through English literature and +art for representations of childhood would +seem to be like looking for the persons of +children in any place where people congregate. +How could there be any conspicuous +absence, except under conditions which necessarily +exclude the very young? Yet it is +impossible to follow the stream of English +literature, with this pursuit in mind, without +becoming aware that at one point in its +course there is a marked access of this force +of childhood. There is, to be sure, a fallacy +lurking in the customary study of the development +of literature. We fall into the way +of thinking of that literature as an organism +proceeding from simpler to more complex +forms; we are attent upon the transition of +one epoch into another; we come to regard +each period as essentially anticipatory of +the succeeding period. We make the same<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> +mistake often in our regard of historical +sequence, looking at all past periods simply +and exclusively with reference to the present +stand from which we take our observations. +A too keen sensibility to the logic which +requires time for its conclusion, a too feeble +sense of the logic which dwells in the relation +between the seen and the unseen,—these +stand in the way of a clear perception of +the forces immanent in literature and life.</p> + +<p>The distinction is worth bearing in mind +when one surveys English literature with +the purpose of recognizing the child in it. +There are certain elemental facts and truths +of which old and new cannot be predicated. +The vision of helpless childhood is no modern +discovery; it is no ancient revelation. +The child at play was seen by Homer and +by Cowper, and the latter did not derive +his apprehension from any study of the former. +The humanism which underlies all +literature is independent of circumstances +for its perception of the great moving forces +of life; it is independent of the great +changes in human history; even so great a +change as the advent of Christianity could +not interfere with the normal expression of +elemental facts in life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span></p> + +<p>Wherein, then, lies the difference between +an antique and a modern apprehension of +childhood? For what may one look in a +survey of English literature that he would +not find in Greek or Roman authors? Is +there any development of human thought in +relation to childhood to be traced in a literature +which has reflected the mind of the +centuries since the Renaissance? The most +aggressive type of modern Christianity, at +any rate the most free type, is to be found +amongst English-speaking people; and if +Christianity has in any way modified the +course of thought regarding the child, the +effect will certainly be seen in English literature +and art.</p> + +<p class="tb">A recollection of ballad literature, without +critical inquiry of the comparative age +of the writings, brings to light the familiar +and frequent incident of cruelty to children +in some form: of the secret putting away +of babes, as in the affecting ballad of the +Queen’s Marie; of the cold and heartless +murder, as in the Cruel Mother, and in the +tragic tale of The Child’s Last Will, where +a sudden dramatic and revealing turn is +given, after the child has willed its various +possessions, in the lines,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘What wish leav’st thou thy step-mother</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Little daughter dear?’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Of hell the bitter sorrow</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sweet step-mother mine</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For ah, all! I am so ill, ah!’</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘What wish leav’st thou thy old nurse</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Little daughter dear?’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘For her I wish the same pangs</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sweet step-mother mine</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For ah, ah! I am so ill, ah!’”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">That grewsome story of Lamkin, with its +dripping of blood in almost every stanza, +gets half its curdling power from the slow +torture of the sensibilities, as the babe is +slain and then rocked in its cradle, and the +mother, summoned by its cries, meets her +own fate at the hands of the treacherous +nurse and Lamkin, whose name is a piece +of bald irony:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Then Lamkin’s ta’en a sharp knife</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That hang down by his gaire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And he has gi’en the bonny babe</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A deep wound and a sair.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Then Lamkin he rocked,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the fause nourice sang</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till frae ilkae bore o’ the cradle</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The red blood out sprang.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Then out it spak the ladie</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As she stood on the stair,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘What ails my bairn, nourice,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That he’s greeting sae sair?</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘O still my bairn, nourice</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O still him wi’ the pap!’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘He winna still, lady,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For this nor for that.’</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘O still my bairn, nourice;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O still him wi’ the wand!’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘He winna still, lady,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For a’ his father’s land.’</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘O still my bairn, nourice,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Oh still him wi’ the bell!’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘He winna still, lady,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Till ye come down yoursel.’</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“O the firsten step she steppit,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She steppit on a stane;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the neisten step she steppit,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She met him, Lamkin.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Another early and significant illustration +is found in the popular story of Hugh of +Lincoln; but instead of turning to the +ballad of that name, one may better have +recourse to Chaucer’s version as contained +in the Canterbury tale of the Prioress. In +the prologue to this tale appear the words +of Scripture, “Out of the mouths of babes +and sucklings,” in a paraphrase, and the +Prioress turns to the Virgin, beseeching her +to give words for the telling of the piteous +tale. The story of Hugh of Lincoln—that +in the reign of Henry III., the Jews of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> +Lincoln stole a boy of eight years, named +Hugh, tortured and crucified him—was received +with great credit, for it concentrated +the venomous enmity with which Christians +regarded the Jews, and by a refinement +of cruelty pictured the Jews in a solitary +instance as behaving in a Christian-like +manner. Chaucer tells the story with exquisite +pathos, lingering upon the childish +ways of Hugh, and preparing the tears of +his readers by picturing the little boy as a +miniature saint. It can scarcely be called +a picture of artless childhood; for though +touches here and there bring out the prattler, +Chaucer appears to have meant that his +readers should be especially impressed by +the piety of this “litel clergeoun,” or chorister +boy:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“A litel clergeoun, seven yeer of age,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That day by day to scole was his wone;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And eek also, whereas he saugh thymage</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of Cristes mooder, he hadde in usage,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As hym was taught, to knele adoun and seye</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His <i>Ave Marie</i>, as he goth by the weye.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">And so we are told of the little fellow eager +to learn the Alma Redemptoris of his elders, +and conning it as he went to and from +school, his way leading through the Jews’ +quarter:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“As I have seyd, thurgh-out the Jewerie</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This litel child, as he cam to and fro,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ful murily wolde he synge and crie</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O <i>Alma redemptoris</i> evere-mo</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The swetnesse hath his herte perced so</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of Cristes mooder, that to hire to preye</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He kan nat stynte of syngyng by the weye.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">The wicked Jews, vexed by his singing, +kill him, and cast his body into a pit. His +weeping mother seeks him, and, happening +by the pit, is made aware of his presence by +the miracle of his dead lips still singing the +Alma Redemptoris.</p> + +<p>In two other stories has Chaucer dwelt +upon the pathos of childhood and bereft or +suffering motherhood. In the Man of Law’s +tale of Custance, there is a touching passage +where Custance and her babe are driven +away from the kingdom, and exposed to the +sea in the ship which had brought them. +The mother kneels upon the sand before +embarking, and puts her trust in the Lord.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Her litel child lay wepying in hir arm,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And knelynge, pitously to hym she seyde,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Pees litel sone, I wol do thee noon harm!’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With that hir kerchief of hir heed she breyde,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And over hise litel eyen she it leyde,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in hir arm she lulleth it ful faste</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in-to hevene hire eyen up she caste.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Then she commits herself and her child to +Mary by the love of Mary’s child.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“And up she rist, and walketh doun the stronde</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Toward the ship,—hir folweth al the prees,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And evere she preyeth hire child to hold his pees.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Again, in the Clerk’s tale of Patient Griselda, +the effect of the story is greatly heightened +by the narrative of the successive partings +of the mother with her child; and the +climax is reached in the burst of gladness +and pent-up feeling which overtakes Griselda +at the restoration of her son and daughter. +It is noticeable that in these and other +instances childhood appears chiefly as an +appeal to pity, rarely as an object of direct +love and joy. This is not to be wondered +at when one considers the character of the +English race, and the nature of the redemption +which it has been undergoing in the +slow process of its submission to the spirit +of Christ. We say the English race, without +stopping to make nice distinctions between +the elements which existed at the time +of the Great Charter, just as we may properly +speak of the American people of the +time of the Constitution.</p> + +<p>This character is marked by a brutality, a +murderous spirit, which lies scarcely concealed, +to-day, in the temper of every English +crowd, and has left its mark on literature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> +from the ballads to Oliver Twist. This +brutal instinct, this rude, savage, northern +spirit, is discovered in conflict with the disarming +power of the spirit of Christ, and +the stages of the conflict are most clearly +indicated in poetry, which is to England +what pictorial and sculpturesque art is to +the south, the highest exponent of its spiritual +life. More comprehensively, English +literature affords the most complete means +of measuring the advance of England in humanity.</p> + +<p>It belongs to the nature of this deep conflict +that there should appear from time to +time the finest exemplars of the ideals formed +by the divine spirit, side by side with exhibitions +of the most willful baseness. English +literature abounds in these contrasts; it +is still more expressive of tides of spiritual +life, the elevation of thought and imagination +succeeded by almost groveling animalism. +And since one of the symbols of a +perfected Christianity is the child, it is not +unfair to seek for its presence in literature, +nor would it be a rare thing to discover it in +passages which hint at the conflict between +the forces of good and evil so constantly +going on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p> + +<p>It is not strange, therefore, that the earliest +illustrations of childhood should mainly +turn, as we have seen, upon that aspect +which is at once most natural and most +Christian. Pity, like a naked, new-born +babe, does indeed ride the blast in those +wild, more than half-savage bursts of the +English spirit which are preserved for us in +ballad literature; and in the first springs of +English poetic art in Chaucer, the child is +as it were the mediator between the rough +story and the melody of the singer. One +cannot fail to see how the introduction of +the child by Chaucer, in close union with +the mother, is almost a transfer of the Madonna +into English poetry,—a Madonna +not of ritual, but of humanity.</p> + +<p class="tb">There are periods in the history of every +nation when the inner life is more completely +exposed to view, and when the student, if he +be observant, may trace most clearly the fundamental +arteries of being. Such a period +in England was the Elizabethan era, when +the tumultuous English spirit manifested +itself in religion, in politics, in enterprise, +in adventure, and in intellectual daring,—that +era which was dominated by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> +great master of English speech. It is the +fashion of every age to write its characteristics +in forms which have become obsolete, +and to resort to masquerade for a display of +its real emotions. It was because chivalry +was no longer the every-day habit of men +that Spenser used it for his purposes, and +translated the Seven Champions of Christendom +into a profounder and more impassioned +poem, emblematical of that great ethical +conflict which has been a significant feature +of English history from the first. In that +series of knightly adventures, The Faery +Queen, wherein the field of human character +is traversed, sin traced to its lurking-place, +and the old dragon of unrighteousness set +upon furiously, there is a conspicuous incident +contained in the second book. In each +book Spenser conceives the antagonist of +the knight, in some spiritual form, to have +wrought a mischief which needs to be repaired +and revenged. Thus a dragon occasions +the adventures of the Red Cross +knight, and in the legend of Sir Guyon the +enchantress Acrasia, or Intemperance, has +caused the death of a knight and his lady; +the latter slays herself because of her husband’s +death, and plunges her babe’s innocent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> +hands into her own bloody breast for a +witness. Sir Guyon and the Palmer, standing +over the dead bodies, hold grave discourse +upon the incident; then they bury the dead, +and seek in vain to cleanse the babe’s hands +in a neighboring fountain. The pure water +will not be stained, and the child bears +the name Ruddymane,—the Red-Handed,—and +shall so bear the sign of a vengeance +he is yet to execute.</p> + +<p>It is somewhat difficult to see into the full +meaning of Spenser’s allegory, for the reason +that the poet breaks through the meshes of +his allegoric net and soars into a freer air; +but there are certain strong lines running +through the poem, and this of the ineradicable +nature of sin is one of them. To Spenser, +vexed with problems of life, that conception +of childhood which knit it closely with +the generations was a significant one, and in +the bloody hand of the infant, which could +not be suffered to stain the chaste fountain, +he saw the dread transmission of an inherited +guilt and wrong. The poet and the +moralist struggle for ascendency, and in this +conflict one may see reflected the passion for +speculation in divinity which was already +making deep marks in English literature.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span></p> + +<p>But the Elizabethan era had its share of +light-heartedness. The songs of the dramatists +and other lyrics exhibit very clearly +the influence upon literature of the revival +of ancient learning. As the art of Italy +showed the old poetic grace risen again +under new conditions, so the dominant art +of England caught a light from the uncovered +glory of Greece and Rome. It was the +time of the great translations of Phaer, +Golding, North, and Chapman; and as those +translations are bold appropriations of antiquity, +not timid attempts at satisfying the +requisitions of scholarship, so the figures of +the old mythology are used freely and ingenuously; +they are naturalized in English +verse far more positively than afterwards in +the <i>elegantia</i> of the Queen Anne and Georgian +periods. Ben Jonson’s Venus’ Runaway +is an exquisite illustration of this rich, +decorative use of the old fable. It was +partly through this sportive appropriation +of the myth of Amor, so vital in all literature, +that the lullabies of the time came to +get their sweetness. The poet, in putting +songs into the mother’s mouth, is not so +much reflecting the Virgin and Child as he +is possessed with the spirit of Greek beauty,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> +and his delicate fancy plays about the image +of a little Love. Thus may we read the +Golden Slumbers of Dekker, in his Patient +Grissel. By a pretty conceit George Gascoigne, +in his Lullaby of a Lover, captures +the sentiment of a mother and babe, to +make it tell the story of his own love and +content. There is a touching song by Robert +Greene in his Menaphon, where Sephestia +puts into her lullaby the story of +her parting with the child’s father:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When thou art old, there’s grief enough for thee.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The wanton smiled, father wept,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Mother cried, baby leapt,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">More thou crowed, more he cried,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nature could not sorrow hide;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He must go, he must kiss</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Child and mother, baby bless;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For he left his pretty boy,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Father’s sorrow, father’s joy.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When thou art old, there’s grief enough for thee.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>We are apt to look for everything in +Shakespeare, but in this matter of childhood +we must confess that there is a meagreness +of reference which almost tempts us into +constructing a theory to account for it. So +far as dramatic representation is concerned, +the necessary limitations of the stage easily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> +account for the absence of the young. Girls +were not allowed to act in Shakespeare’s +time, and it is not easy to reduce boys capable +of acting to the stature of young girls. +More than this, boys and girls are not themselves +dramatic in action, though in the more +modern drama they are sometimes used, +especially in domestic scenes, to heighten +effects, and to make most reasonable people +wish them in bed.</p> + +<p>Still, within the limits enforced by his +art, Shakespeare more than once rested +much on youthful figures. The gay, agile +Moth has a species of femineity about him, +so that we fancy he would be most easily +shown on the stage by a girl; but one readily +recalls others who have distinct boyish +properties. In Coriolanus, when the mother +and wife go out to plead with the angry +Roman, they take with them his little boy. +Volumnia, frantic with fear, with love, and +with a woman’s changing passion, calls upon +one and another to join her in her entreaty. +Virgilia, the wife, crowds in a word at the +height of Volumnia’s appeal, when the voluble +grandmother has been rather excitedly +talking about Coriolanus treading on his +mother’s womb, that brought him into the +world. Virgilia strikes in,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent34">“Ay, and mine</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Living to time.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Whereupon young Marcius, with delicious +boyish brag and chivalry:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent24">“A’ shall not tread on me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll run away till I am bigger, but then I’ll fight.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">In the same play there is a description of +the boy which tallies exactly with the single +appearance which he makes in person. Valeria +drops in upon the mother and grandmother +in a friendly way, and civilly asks +after the boy.</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + +<p>“<i>Vir.</i> I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.</p> + +<p>“<i>Vol.</i> He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, +than look upon his schoolmaster.</p> + +<p>“<i>Val.</i> O’ my word, the father’s son: I’ll swear, ’tis +a very pretty boy. O’ my troth, I looked upon him o’ +Wednesday half an hour together: has such a confirmed +countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; +and when he caught it, he let it go again; and after it +again: and over and over he comes, and up again; +catched it again; or whether his fall enraged him, or +how ’twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it; O, I +warrant, how he mammocked it!</p> + +<p>“<i>Vol.</i> One on ’s father’s moods.</p> + +<p>“<i>Val.</i> Indeed, la, ’tis a noble child.</p> + +<p>“<i>Vir.</i> A crack, madam.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The most eminent example in Shakespeare +of active childhood is unquestionably the +part played by young Arthur in the drama<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> +of King John. It is the youth of Arthur, +his dependence, his sorry inheritance of +misery, his helplessness among the raging +wolves about him, his childish victory over +Hubert, and his forlorn death, when he +leaps trembling from the walls, which +impress the imagination. “Stay yet,” says +Pembroke to Salisbury,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent24">“I’ll go with thee</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And find the inheritance of this poor child,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His little kingdom of a forced grave.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Shakespeare, busy with the story of kings, +is moved with deep compassion for this child +among kings, who overcomes the hard heart +of Hubert by his innocent words, the very +strength of feeble childhood, and falls like a +poor lamb upon the stones, where his princedom +could not save him.</p> + +<p>In that ghastly play of Titus Andronicus, +which melts at last into unavailing tears, +with what exquisite grace is the closing +scene humanized by the passage where the +elder Lucius calls his boy to the side of his +dead grandsire:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Many a matter hath he told to thee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Meet and agreeing with thine infancy;</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">In that respect, then, like a loving child,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Because kind nature doth require it so.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The relentless spirit of Lady Macbeth is +in nothing figured more acutely than when +the woman and mother is made to say,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent22">“I have given suck, and know</div> + <div class="verse indent0">How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I would, while it was smiling in my face,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And dashed the brains out, had I sworn as you</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have done to this.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">In the witch’s hell-broth one ingredient is +“finger of birth-strangled babe,” while in +the portents which rise to Macbeth’s vision +a bloody child and a child crowned, with a +tree in his hand, are apparitions of ghostly +prophecy. Then in that scene where Ross +discloses slowly and with pent-up passion +the murder of Macduff’s wife and children, +and Macduff hears as in a dream, waking to +the blinding light of horrid day, with what +a piercing shriek he cries out,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“He has no children!”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and then surges back to his own pitiful +state, transformed for a moment into an infuriated +creature, all instinct, from which a +hell-kite has stolen his mate and pretty brood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span></p> + +<p>By what marvelous flash of poetic power +Shakespeare in this mighty passage lifts +that humblest image of parental care, a hen +and chickens, into the heights of human passion. +Ah! as one sees a hen with a brood +of chickens under her,—how she gathers +them under her wings, and will stay in the +cold if she can but keep them warm,—one’s +mind turns to those words of profound pathos +spoken over the unloving Jerusalem; +there was the voice of a nature into which +was gathered all the father’s and the mother’s +love. In these two passages one sees +the irradiation of poor feathered life with +the glory of the image of the highest.</p> + +<p>How important a part in the drama of +King Richard III. do the young princes +play; as princes, indeed, in the unfolding +of the plot, yet as children in the poet’s +portraiture of them. We hear their childish +prattle, we see their timid shrinking from +the dark Tower, and then we have the effect +of innocent childhood upon the callous murderers, +Dighton and Forrest, as related in +that short, sharp, dramatic account which +Tyrrel gives:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To do this ruthless piece of butchery,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Although they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Melting with tenderness and kind compassion</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad stories.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Lo, thus,’ quoth Dighton, ‘lay those tender babes:’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘Thus, thus,’ quoth Forrest, ‘girdling one another</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Within their innocent alabaster arms:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which in their summer beauty kiss’d each other.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A book of prayers on their pillow lay;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which once,’ quoth Forrest, ‘almost changed my mind;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But O! the devil’—there the villain stopp’d;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whilst Dighton thus told on: ‘We smothered</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The most replenished sweet work of nature,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That from the prime creation e’er she framed.’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They could not speak.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The glances at infancy, though infrequent, +are touched with strong human feeling. +Ægeon, narrating the strange adventures of +his shipwreck, tells of the</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Piteous plainings of the pretty babes</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That mourned for fashion, ignorant what to fear;”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and scattered throughout the plays are passages +and lines which touch lightly or significantly +the realm of childhood: as,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Pity like a naked, new-born babe;”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">“’Tis the eye of childhood</div> + <div class="verse indent4">That fears a painted devil,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">in Macbeth;</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 indent20">“Love is like a child</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That longs for every thing that he can come by;”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2">“How wayward is this foolish love</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And presently all humble kiss the rod,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">in Two Gentlemen of Verona;</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Those that do teach young babes</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Do it with gentle means and easy tasks,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">says Desdemona; and Cleopatra, when the +poisonous asp is planting its fangs, says with +saddest irony,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent18">“Peace! peace!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dost thou not see my baby at my breast</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That sucks the nurse asleep?”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There is a charming illustration of the +blending of the classic myth of Amor with +actual childhood in these lines of A Midsummer-Night’s +Dream, where Helena says,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And therefore is Love said to be a child,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As waggish boys in games themselves forswear,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So the boy Love is perjured everywhere.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In the noonday musing of Jaques, when +the summer sky hung over the greenwood, +and he fell to thinking of the round world<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> +and all that dwell therein, the Seven Ages of +Man passed in procession before him:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent18">“At first the infant</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Muling and puking in the nurse’s arms.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And shining morning face, creeping like snail</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Unwillingly to school,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">until the last poor shambling creature is +borne off in second childhood.</p> + +<p>There are doubtless other passages which +might be gleaned, but the survey is full +enough to show how scantily, after all, +Shakespeare has made use of the figure and +the image of childhood. The reflection has +led an ingenious writer to explain the fact +by the circumstances of Shakespeare’s life, +which hindered his study of children. “He +was clearly old for his age when still a boy, +and so would have associated, not with children, +but with young men. His marriage as +a mere lad and the scanty legends of his +youth all tend in the same direction. The +course of his life led him to live apart from +his children in their youth; his busy life in +London brought him into the interior of but +few families; his son, of whom he saw but +little, died young. If our supposition be +true, it is a pathetic thought that the great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> +dramatist was shut out from the one kind +of companionship which, even while it is in +no degree intellectual, never palls. A man, +whatever his mental powers, can take delight +in the society of a child, when a person +of intellect far more matured, but inferior +to his own, would be simply insufferable.”<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p> + +<p>The explanation is rather ingenious than +satisfying. Where did Shakespeare get his +knowledge of the abundant life which his +dramas present? He had the privilege of +most people of remembering his own boyhood, +and the mind which could invent +Hamlet out of such stuff as experience and +observation furnished could scarcely have +missed acquaintance enough with children to +enable him to portray them whenever the +exigencies of his drama required. No, it is +simpler to refer the absence of children as +actors to the limitations of the stage, and to +ascribe the infrequent references to childhood +to the general neglect of the merely domestic +side of life in Shakespeare’s art. Shakespeare’s +world was an out-of-doors, public +world, and his men, women, and lovers carried +on their lives with no denser concealment +than a wood or an arras could afford.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span></p> + +<p>The comprehensiveness of Shakespeare +found some place for children; the lofty +narrowness of Milton, none. The word +<i>child</i>, even, can scarcely be found on a page +of Milton’s verse. In his Ode on the +Morning of Christ’s Nativity, with its +Hymn, how slight is the mention of the +child Jesus! How far removed is the treatment +from that employed in the great procession +of Madonnas!</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Afford a present to the Infant God?”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">The Infant God!—that is Milton’s attitude, +more than half pagan. In L’Allegro +and in Comus the lightness, which denotes +the farthest swing of Milton’s fancy, is the +relief which his poetic soul found from the +high themes of theology, in Greek art. One +is aware that Milton’s fine scholarship was +the salvation of his poetry, as his Puritan +sense of personality held in check a nature +which else might have run riot in sportiveness +and sensuousness. When he permitted +himself his exquisite short flights of fancy, +the material in which he worked was not +the fresh spring of English nature, human +or earthly, but the remote Arcadian virginity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> +which he had learned of in his books. +Not dancing children, but winged sprites, +caught his poetic eye.</p> + +<p>The weight of personal responsibility +which rests upon the Puritan conception of +life offers small play for the wantonness and +spontaneity of childhood. Moreover, the +theological substratum of Puritan morality +denied to childhood any freedom, and kept +the life of man in waiting upon the conscious +turning of the soul to God. Hence childhood +was a time of probation and suspense. +It was wrong, to begin with, and was repressed +in its nature until maturity should +bring an active and conscious allegiance to +God. Hence, also, parental anxiety was +forever earnestly seeking to anticipate the +maturity of age, and to secure for childhood +that reasonable intellectual belief which it +held to be essential to salvation; there followed +often a replacement of free childhood +by an abnormal development. In any event, +the tendency of the system was to ignore +childhood, to get rid of it as quickly as possible, +and to make the state contain only +self-conscious, determinate citizens of the +kingdom of heaven. There was, unwittingly, +a reversal of the divine message, and it was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> +said in effect to children: Except ye become +as grown men and be converted, ye cannot +enter the kingdom of heaven.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, though Puritanism in its +excessive anxiety may have robbed childhood +of its freedom, the whole spirit of the movement +was one conservative of family relations, +and the narratives of domestic life +under Puritanic control are often full of a +grave sweetness. Indeed, it may almost be +said that the domestic narrative was now +born into English literature. Nor could the +intense concern for the spiritual well-being +of children, a religious passion reinforcing +natural affection, fail to give an importance +to the individual life of the family, and +prepare the way for that new intelligence of +the scope of childhood which was to come +later to an England still largely dominated +by Puritan ideas.</p> + +<p>Milton expressed the high flight of the +soul above earthly things. He took his +place upon a summit where he could show +the soul all the confines of heaven and earth. +Bunyan, stirred by like religious impulses, +made his soul trudge sturdily along toward +an earthly paradise. The realism of his +story often veils successfully the spiritual<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> +sense, and makes it possible for children to +read the Pilgrim’s Progress with but faint +conception of its religious import. In the +second part of the allegory, Christian’s wife +and children set out on their ramble, in +Christian’s footsteps. There is no lack of +individuality in characterization of the persons. +The children are distinctly conceived +as children; they are, to be sure, made to +conform occasionally to the demands of the +spiritual side of the allegory, yet they +remain children, and by their speech and +action betray the childish mind.</p> + +<p>They come in sight of the lions, and “the +boys that went before were glad to cringe +behind, for they were afraid of the lions, so +they stepped back and went behind.” When +they come to the Porter’s Lodge, they abide +there awhile with Prudence, Piety, and +Charity; Prudence catechizes the four children, +who return commendably correct answers. +But Matthew, the oldest boy, falls +sick of the gripes; and when the physician +asks Christiana what he has been eating +lately, she is as ignorant as any mother +can be.</p> + +<p>“Then said Samuel,” who is as communicative +as most younger brothers, “‘Mother,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> +mother, what was that which my brother +did gather up and eat, so soon as we were +come from the Gate that is at the head of +this way? You know that there was an orchard +on the left hand, on the other side of +the wall, and some of the trees hung over +the wall, and my brother did plash and did +eat.’</p> + +<p>“‘True, my child,’ said Christiana, ‘he +did take thereof and did eat, naughty boy as +he was. I did chide him, and yet he would +eat thereof.’” So Mr. Skill, the physician, +proceeds to make a purge. “You know,” +says Bunyan, in a sly parenthesis, “physicians +give strange medicines to their patients.” +“And it was made up,” he goes +on, “into pills, with a promise or two, and a +proportionable quantity of salt. Now he was +to take them three at a time, fasting, in +half a quarter of a pint of Tears of Repentance. +When this Portion was prepared and +brought to the boy, he was loth to take it, +though torn with the gripes as if he should +be pulled in pieces. ‘Come, come,’ said the +physician, ‘you must take it.’ ‘It goes +against my stomach,’ said the boy. ‘I must +have you take it,’ said his mother. ‘I shall +vomit it up again,’ said the boy. ‘Pray,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> +sir,’ said Christiana to Mr. Skill, ‘how does +it taste?’ ‘It has no ill taste,’ said the +doctor, and with that she touched one of the +pills with the tip of her tongue. ‘O Matthew,’ +said she, ‘this Portion is sweeter than +honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou +lovest thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if +thou lovest thy life, take it.’ So with much +ado, after a short prayer for the blessing of +God upon it, he took it, and it wrought +kindly with him. It caused him to purge, +it caused him to sleep and rest quietly, it put +him into a fine heat and breathing sweat, +and did quite rid him of his gripes.”</p> + +<p>The story is dotted with these lifelike +incidents, and the consistency is rather in +the basis of the allegory than in the allegory +itself. In truth, we get in the Pilgrim’s +Progress an inimitable picture of social life +in the lower middle class of England, and +in this second part a very vivid glimpse of +a Puritan household. The glimpse is corrective +of a too stern and formal apprehension +of social Puritanism, and in the story +are exhibited the natural charms and graces +which not only could not be expelled by a +stern creed, but were essentially connected +with the lofty ideals which made Puritanism<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> +a mighty force in history. Bunyan had a +genius for story-telling, and his allegory is +very frank; but what he showed as well as +what he did not show in his picture of +Christiana and the children indicates the +constraint which rested upon the whole Puritan +conception of childhood. It is seen at +its best in Bunyan, and this great Puritan +poet of common life found a place for it in +his survey of man’s estate; nature asserted +itself in spite of and through Puritanism.</p> + +<p class="tb">Milton’s Christmas Hymn has the organ +roll of a mind moving among high themes, +and making the earth one of the golden +spheres. Pope’s sacred eclogue of the Messiah +is perhaps the completest expression of +the religious sentiment of an age which was +consciously bounded by space and time. In +Pope’s day, the world was scarcely a part of +a greater universe; eternity was only a prolongation +of time, and the sense of beauty, +acute as it was, was always sharply defined. +Pope’s rhymed couplets, with their absolute +finality, their clean conclusion, their epigrammatic +snap, are the most perfect symbols +of the English mind of that period. +When in the Messiah we read,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Rapt into future times the bard begun,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a son!</div> + <div class="center">...</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Swift fly the years and rise the expected morn!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O spring to light, auspicious babe, be born!”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">we remember Milton’s Infant God. The +two poets touch, with a like faintness, the +childhood of Jesus, but the one through awe +and grandeur of contemplation, the other +through the polite indifference of a man of +the world. Or take Pope’s mundane philosophy, +as exhibited most elaborately in his +Essay on Man, and set it beside Shakespeare’s +Seven Ages of Man:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A little louder, but as empty quite:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pleased with this bauble still, as that before;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till tired he sleeps and life’s poor play is o’er.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">This is the only passage in the Essay hinting +at childhood, and suffices to indicate how +entirely insignificant in the eyes of the philosophy +underlying Pope and his school was +the whole thought of childhood. The passage, +while not perhaps consciously imitative +of Shakespeare, suggests comparison, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> +one finds in Jaques under the greenwood a +more human feeling. Commend us to the +tramp before the drawing-room philosopher!</p> + +<p class="tb">The prelusive notes of a new literature +were sounded by Fielding, Gray, Goldsmith, +and Cowper. It was to be a literature which +touched the earth again, the earth of a +common nature, the earth also of a national +inheritance.</p> + +<p>Fielding, though painting contemporary +society in a manner borrowed in a measure +from the satiric drama, was moving constantly +into the freer domain of the novelist +who is a critic of life, and when he would +set forth the indestructible force of a pure +nature in a woman who is placed in a +loose society, as in Amelia, he instinctively +hedges the wife about with children, and it +is a mark of his art that these children are +not mere pawns which are moved about to +protect the queen; they are genuine figures, +their prattle is natural, and they are constantly +illustrating in the most innocent +fashion the steadfastness of Amelia.</p> + +<p>It is significant that Gray, with his delicate +taste and fine classical scholarship, +when he composed his Elegy used first<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> +the names of eminent Romans when he +wrote:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Some village Cato, who with dauntless breast</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The little tyrant of the fields withstood;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some mute, inglorious Tully here may rest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Some Cæsar, guiltless of his country’s blood.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">He changed these names for those of English +heroes, and in doing so broke away from +traditions which still had a strong hold in +literature. It is a pity that for a reason +which hardly convinces us he should have +thought best to omit the charming stanza,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“There, scattered oft, the earliest of the year,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By hands unseen are showers of violets found:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Red-breast loves to build and warble there,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And little footsteps lightly print the ground.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">When Gray wrote this he doubtless had in +mind the ballad of the Children in the +Wood. In the succession of English pictures +which he does give is that lovely one,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or busy housewife ply her evening’s care;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No children run to lisp their sire’s return,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or climb his knees the evening kiss to share.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In his poem On a Distant Prospect of +Eton College he has lines which are instinct +with a feeling for childhood and youth. +There is, it is true, a touch of artificiality<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> +in the use made of childhood in this poem, +as a foil for tried manhood, its little life +treated as the lost golden age of mankind; +but that sentiment was a prevailing one in +the period.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith, whose Bohemianism helped to +release him from subservience to declining +fashions in literature, treats childhood in a +more genuine and artless fashion. In his +prose and poetry I hear the first faint notes +of that song of childhood which in a generation +more was to burst from many lips. The +sweetness which trembles in the Deserted +Village finds easy expression in forms and +images which call up childhood to memory, +as in those lines,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The playful children just let loose from school,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“E’en children followed with endearing wile,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And plucked his gown, to share the good man’s smile,”—</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and in the quaint picture of the village +school.</p> + +<p>It is in the Vicar of Wakefield, however, +that one finds the freest play of fancy about +childish figures. Goldsmith says of his hero +that “he unites in himself the three greatest +characters upon earth,—he is a priest, a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> +husbandman, and the father of a family;” +and the whole of the significant preface may +lead one to revise the estimate of Goldsmith +which his contemporaries have fastened upon +English literary history. The waywardness +and unconventionality of this man of genius +and his eager desire to be accepted by the +world, which was then the great world, were +the characteristics which most impressed the +shallower minds about him. In truth, he +had not only an extraordinary sympathy +with the ever-varying, ever-constant flux of +human life, but he dropped a deeper plummet +than any English thinker since Milton.</p> + +<p>It was in part his loneliness that threw +him upon children for complete sympathy; +in part also his prophetic sense, for he had +an unerring vision of what constituted the +strength and the weakness of England. +After the portraiture of the Vicar himself, +there are no finer sketches than those of the +little children. “It would be fruitless,” +says the unworldly Vicar, “to deny exultation +when I saw my little ones about me;” +and from time to time in the tale, the +youngest children, Dick and Bill, trot forward +in an entirely natural manner. They +show an engaging fondness for Mr. Thornhill.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> +“The whole family seemed earnest to +please him.... My little ones were no less +busy, and fondly stuck close to the stranger. +All my endeavors could scarcely keep their +dirty fingers from handling and tarnishing +the lace on his clothes, and lifting up the +flaps of his pocket holes to see what was +there.” The character of Mr. Burchell is +largely drawn by its association with the +children. The account given by little Dick +of the carrying off of Olivia is full of charming +childish spirit, and there is an exquisite +passage where the Vicar returns home with +the news of Olivia’s recovery, and discovers +his house to be on fire, while in a tumult of +confusion the older members of the family +rush out of the dwelling.</p> + +<p>“I gazed upon them and upon it by +turns,” proceeds the Vicar, “and then looked +round me for my two little ones; but they +were not to be seen. O misery! ‘Where,’ +cried I, ‘where are my little ones?’ ‘They +are burnt to death in the flames,’ says my +wife calmly, ‘and I will die with them.’ +That moment I heard the cry of the babes +within, who were just awaked by the fire, +and nothing could have stopped me. +‘Where, where are my children?’ cried I,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> +rushing through the flames, and bursting the +door of the chamber in which they were confined. +‘Where are my little ones?’ ‘Here, +dear papa, here we are!’ cried they together, +while the flames were just catching the bed +where they lay. I caught them both in my +arms, and snatching them through the fire +as fast as possible, just as I was got out the +roof sunk in. ‘Now,’ cried I, holding up +my children, ‘now let the flames burn on, +and all my possessions perish. Here they +are. I have saved my treasure. Here, my +dearest, here are our treasures, and we shall +yet be happy.’ We kissed our little darlings +a thousand times; they clasped us round +the neck, and seemed to share our transports, +while their mother laughed and wept +by turns.”</p> + +<p>Cowper was more secluded from his time +and its influence than Goldsmith, but like +him he felt the instinct for a return to the +elemental in life and nature. The gentleness +of Cowper, combined with a poetic sensibility, +found expression in simple themes. +His life, led in a pastoral country, and occupied +with trivial pleasures, offered him primitive +material, and he sang of hares, and +goldfish, and children. His Tirocinium, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> +a Review of Schools, though having a didactic +intention, has some charming bits of +descriptive writing, as in the familiar lines +which describe the sport of</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The little ones, unbuttoned, glowing hot.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">The description melts, as do so many of Cowper’s +retrospections, into a tender melancholy. +A deeper note still is struck in his Lines on +the Receipt of my Mother’s Picture.</p> + +<p class="tb">The new birth which was coming to England +had its premonitions in literature. It +had them also in art. In this period appeared +Sir Joshua Reynolds and Gainsborough: +the one preëminently a painter of +humanity, the other of nature, and both of +them moved by a spirit of freedom, under +well-recognized academic rules. There is in +their work a lingering of the old formal +character which took sharp account of the +diversities of rank, and separated things +common from things choice; yet they both +belong to the new world rather than to the +old, and in nothing is this more remarkable +than in the number and character of the +children pieces painted by Reynolds. They +are a delight to the eye, and in the true<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> +democracy of art we know no distinction between +Master Crewe as Henry VIII. and a +Boy with a Child on his back and cabbage +nets in his hand. What a revelation of +childhood is in this great group! There is +the tenderness of the Children in the Wood, +the peace of the Sleeping Child, where nature +itself is in slumber, the timidity of the +Strawberry Girl, the wildness of the Gypsy +Boy, the shy grace of Pickaback, the delightful +wonder of Master Bunbury, the sweet +simplicity and innocence in the pictures so +named, and the spiritual yet human beauty +of the Angels’ heads. Reynolds studied the +work of the mediæval painters, but he came +back to England and painted English children. +Goldsmith’s Vicar, Cowper’s Lines +on his mother’s portrait, and Reynolds’ children +bring us close to the heart of our subject.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>It was the saying of the Swedish seer +Count Swedenborg, that a Day of Judgment +was to come upon men at the time of the +French Revolution. Then were the spirits +to be judged. In whatever terms we may express +the fact, clear it is to us that the close<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> +of the last century marks a great epoch in +the history of Christendom, and the farther +we withdraw from the events which +gather about our own birth as an organized +nation, and those which effected such enormous +changes in European life, the more +clearly do we perceive that the movements of +the present century are mainly along lines +which may be traced back to genetic beginnings +then. There was indeed a great awakening, +a renaissance, a new birth.</p> + +<p>The French Revolution was a sign of the +times: it furnishes a convenient name for an +epoch, not merely because important changes +in Christendom were contemporaneous with +it, but because they were intimately associated +with it. Then appeared the portent +of Democracy, and the struggle of humanity +has ever since been for the realization +of dreams which came as visions of a great +hope. Then began that examination of the +foundation of things in science and philosophy +which has become a mighty passion in +intellectual life.</p> + +<p>I have said that every great renaissance +has left its record in the recognition which +childhood receives in literature and art. I +add that the scope and profundity of that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> +renaissance may be measured by the form +which this recognition takes. At the birth +of Christianity the pregnant sentences, “Except +ye become as little children ye shall not +enter the kingdom of heaven,” “For of such +is the kingdom of heaven,” “Verily I say +unto you, their angels do always behold +the face of my Father in heaven,” sound a +depth unreached before. They were, like +other words from the same source, veritable +prophecies, the perfect fulfillment of which +waits the perfect manifestation of the Son +of Man. At the Renaissance, when mediævalism +gave way before modern life, art +reflected the hopes of mankind in the face of +a divine child. At the great Revolution, +when, amidst fire and blood, the new life of +humanity stood revealed, an unseen hand +again took a little child and placed him in +the midst of men. It was reserved for an +English poet to be the one who most clearly +discerned the face of the child. Himself +one of the great order of angels, he beheld +in the child the face of God. I may be pardoned, +I trust, for thus reading in Western +fashion the meaning of that Oriental phrase +which I find has perplexed theologians and +Biblical critics. Was it any new disclosure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> +which the Christ made if he merely said that +the attendant ministers of children always +beheld the face of the Father in heaven? +Was it not the very property of such angelic +nature that it should see God? But was it +not rather a revelation to the crass minds of +those who thrust children aside, that the angels +who moved between the Father of spirits +and these new-comers into the world saw in +their faces a witness to their divine origin? +They saw the Father repeated in the child.</p> + +<p>When Wordsworth published his Lyrical +Ballads, a storm of ridicule fell upon them. +In that age, when the old and the new were +clashing with each other on every hand, so +stark a symbol of the new as these ballads presented +could not fail to furnish an objective +point for criticism which was born of the +old. Wordsworth, in his defensive Preface, +declares, “The principal object proposed in +these Poems was to choose incidents and situations +from common life, and to relate or +describe them throughout, as far as was possible, +in a selection of language really used +by men, and, at the same time, to throw +over them a certain coloring of imagination, +whereby ordinary things should be presented +to the mind in an unusual aspect; and further,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> +and above all, to make these incidents +and situations interesting, by tracing in +them, truly though not ostentatiously, the +primary laws of our nature; chiefly as far +as regards the manner in which we associate +ideas in a state of excitement. Humble and +rustic life was generally chosen, because, in +that condition, the essential passions of the +heart find a better soil in which they can +attain their maturity, are less under restraint, +and speak a plainer and more emphatic +language; because in that condition +of life our elementary feelings coexist in a +state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, +may be more accurately contemplated and +more forcibly communicated; because the +manners of rural life germinate from those +elementary feelings, and, from the necessary +character of rural occupations, are more +easily comprehended, and are more durable; +and, lastly, because in that condition the +passions of men are incorporated with the +beautiful and permanent forms of nature.”</p> + +<p>Every one of these reasons, unless the +last, which I do not understand, be excepted, +applies with additional force to the use of +forms and images and incidents drawn from +childhood; and though Wordsworth takes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> +no account of this in his Preface, it is more +to the point that he does freely and fully +recognize the fact in his poetry. The Preface, +with its dry formality, was like much +of Wordsworth’s poetry,—Pegasus on a +walk, his wings impeding free action. It is +one of the anomalies of nature that a poet +with such insight as Wordsworth should +never apparently have discovered his own +pragmatical dullness. It seems to me that +Wordsworth’s finer moods were just those +of which he never attempted to give a philosophic +account, and that he did not refer to +childhood in his Preface is an evidence of +his inspiration when dealing with it.</p> + +<p>Be this as it may, his treatment of childhood +accords with his manifesto to the British +public. Could anything be more trivial, as +judged by the standards of the day, than +his ballad of Alice Fell, or Poverty?—of +which he has himself said, “The humbleness, +meanness if you like, of the subject, +together with the homely mode of treating +it, brought upon me a world of ridicule by +the small critics, so that in policy I excluded +it from many editions of my Poems, till it +was restored at the request of some of my +friends, in particular my son-in-law, Edward<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> +Quillinan.” What is the motive of a poem +which excited such derision that the poet in +a moment of alarm withdrew it from publication, +and when he restored it held his son-in-law +responsible? Simply the grief of a +poor child, who had stolen a ride behind the +poet’s post-chaise, upon finding that her tattered +cloak had become caught in the wheel +and irretrievably ruined. The poet makes +no attempt to dignify this grief; the incident +is related in poetic form, but without +any poetic discovery beyond the simple +worth of the grief. It is, perhaps, the most +audaciously matter of fact of all Wordsworth’s +poems; and yet, such is the difference +in the audience to-day from what it was +in Wordsworth’s time that Alice Fell appears +as a matter of course in all the anthologies +for children, and is read by men and +women with positive sympathy, with a tenderness +for the forlorn little girl, and without +a question as to the poem’s right of existence. +The misery, the grief of childhood, +is conceived of as a real thing, measured by +the child’s mind into which we enter, and +not by our own standards of pain and loss.</p> + +<p>Again, recall the poem of Lucy Gray, or +Solitude. The story is far more pathetic,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> +and has an appeal to more catholic sensibility: +a child, sent with a lantern to town +from the moor on which she lives, that she +may light her mother back through the snow, +is lost among the hills, and her footsteps are +traced at last to the fatal bridge through +which she has fallen. The incident was one +from real life; Wordsworth seized upon it, +reproducing each detail, and with a touch or +two of genius made a wraith. He discovered, +as no one before had done, the element +of solitude in childhood, and invested it with +a fine spiritual, ethereal quality, quite devoid +of any ethical property,—a subtle community +with nature.</p> + +<p>How completely Wordsworth entered the +mind of a child and identified himself with +its movements is consciously betrayed in his +pastoral, The Pet Lamb. He puts into the +mouth of Barbara Lewthwaite the imaginary +song to her lamb, and then says for himself,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Again and once again did I repeat the song;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nay, said I, more than half to the damsel must belong,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">For she looked with such a look and she spake with such a tone</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That I almost received her heart into my own.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">His second thought was best: more than +half did belong to the child, for he himself +was but the wise interpreter.</p> + +<p>Wordsworth’s incidents of childhood are +sometimes given a purely objective character, +as in Rural Architecture, The Anecdote +for Fathers, The Idle Shepherd Boys; but +more often childhood is to him the occasion +and suggestion of the deeper thought of life. +A kitten, playing with falling leaves before +the poet and his child Dora, leads him on +by exquisite movement to the thought of his +own decay of life. But what impresses us +most is the twofold conception of childhood +as a part of nature, and as containing within +itself not only the germ of human life, but +the echo of the divine. There are poems of +surpassing beauty which so blend the child +and nature that we might almost fancy, as +we look upon the poetical landscape, that we +are mistaking children for bushes, or bushes +for children. Such is that one beginning</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Three years she grew in sun and shower,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span></p> + +<p class="noindent">He drew images from his children and +painted a deliberate portrait of his daughter +Catharine, solemnly entitled, Characteristics +of a Child Three Years Old.</p> + +<p>Yet, though Wordsworth drew many suggestions +from his own children and from +those whom he saw in his walks, it is remarkable +how little he regards children in +their relation to parents in comparison of +their individual and isolated existence. Before +Wordsworth, the child, in literature, +was almost wholly considered as one of a +group, as a part of a family, and only those +phases of childhood were treated which +were obvious to the most careless observer. +Wordsworth—and here is the notable fact—was +the first deliberately to conceive of +childhood as a distinct, individual element +of human life. He first, to use a truer +phrase, apprehended the personality of childhood. +He did this and gave it expression in +artistic form in some of the poems already +named; he did it methodically and with philosophic +intent in his autobiographic poem +The Prelude, and also in The Excursion. +Listen how he speaks of his infancy even, +giving it by anticipation a life separate from +mother and nurse. “Was it for this?” he +asks,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent22">“Was it for this</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To blend his murmurs with my nurse’s song,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, from his alder shades and rocky falls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And from his fords and shallows, sent a voice</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That flowed along my dreams? For this, didst thou,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O Derwent! winding among grassy holms</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where I was looking on, a babe in arms,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To more than infant softness, giving me</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Amid the fretful dwellings of mankind</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A foretaste, a dim earnest, of the calm</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That Nature breathes among the hills and groves.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Still more minutely does he disclose the consciousness +of childhood in his record of the +mind of the Wanderer in The Excursion, in +the lines beginning:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“From his sixth year, the Boy of whom I speak</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In summer tended cattle on the hills.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It may be said that in all this Wordsworth +is simply rehearsing and expanding +an exceptional experience; that his recollection +of his own childhood passed through the +alembic of a fervid poetic imagination. Be +it so; we are not so much concerned to know +how the poet came by this divination, as to +know that he should have treated it as universal +and common to the period of childhood. +Again and again in descriptive poem, +in direct address, in indirect allusion, he so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> +uses this knowledge as to forbid us to regard +it as peculiar and exceptional in his +own view; and a poet’s attestation to a universal +experience is worth more than any +negation which comes from our individual +blurred recollection. Wordsworth discovers +in childhood the germ of humanity; he sees +there thoughts, emotions, activities, sufferings, +which are miniatures of the maturer +life,—but, he sees more than this and +deeper. To him the child is not a pigmy +man; it has a life of its own, out of which +something even may pass, when childhood is +left behind. It is not the ignorant innocence +of childhood, the infantile grace, which +holds him, but a certain childish possession, +in which he sees a spiritual presence obscured +in conscious youth. Landor in one +of his Imaginary Conversations stoutly asserts +a similar fact when he says, “Children +are not men or women; they are almost as +different creatures, in many respects, as if +they never were to be one or the other; they +are as unlike as buds are unlike flowers, and +almost as blossoms are unlike fruits.”<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></p> + +<p>In all this again, in this echo of the +divine which Wordsworth hears in the voice<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> +of childhood, there is reference, psychologically, +to his own personal experience. Yet +why should we treat that as ruled out of evidence, +which only one here and another +there acknowledges as a part of his history? +Is it not fairer, more reasonable, to take the +experience of a profound poet as the basis +of spiritual truth than the negative testimony +of those whose eyes lack the wondrous +power of seeing? In the preface to his ode, +Intimations of Immortality from the Recollections +of Early Childhood, Wordsworth +declares with great earnestness:—</p> + +<p>“To the attentive and competent reader +the whole sufficiently explains itself; but +there may be no harm in adverting here to +particular feelings or experiences of my own +mind, on which the structure of the poem +partly rests. Nothing was more difficult for +me in childhood than to admit the notion of +death as a state applicable to my own being. +I have said elsewhere—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent10">‘A simple child</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That lightly draws its breath,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And feels its life in every limb,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What should it know of death!’</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">But it was not so much from feelings of animal +vivacity that my difficulty came, as from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> +a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit +within me. I used to brood over the stories +of Enoch and Elijah, and almost to persuade +myself that, whatever might become of +others, I should be translated, in something +of the same way, to heaven. With a feeling +congenial to this, I was often unable to +think of external existence, and I communed +with all that I saw as something not apart +from, but inherent in my own immaterial +nature. Many times, while going to school, +have I grasped at a wall or tree to recall myself +from the abyss of idealism to the reality. +At that time I was afraid of such processes. +In later periods of life I have deplored, as +we all have reason to do, a subjugation of +an opposite character.”</p> + +<p>Here Wordsworth defends the philosophy +of the poem by making it an induction from +his own experience. There will be found +many to question its truth, because they have +no recollections which correspond with the +poet’s; and others who will claim that the +poem is but a fanciful argument in behalf +of the philosophic heresy of a preëxistent +state. In my judgment, Wordsworth’s preface +is somewhat misleading by its reference +to this theory, although he has furnished<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> +hints in the same preface of his more integral +thought. As I have noticed before, his +artistic presentation is truer and more final +than his exegesis. Whoever reads this +great ode is aware of the rise and fall of the +tide of thought; he hears the poet reasoning +with himself; he sees him passing in +imagination out of childhood into age, yet +constantly recovering himself to fresh perception +of the immortality which transcends +earthly life. It is visible childhood with its +intimation of immortality which brings to +the poet, not regret for what is irretrievably +lost, but firmer faith in the reality of the +unseen and eternal. The confusion into +which some have been cast by the ode arises +from their bringing to the idea of immortality +the time conception; they conceive the +poet to be hinting of an indefinite time antedating +the child’s birth, an indefinite time +extending beyond the man’s death, whereas +Wordsworth’s conception of immortality +rests in the indestructibility of spirit by any +temporal or earthly conditions,—an indestructibility +which even implies an absence +of beginning as well as of ending.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Heaven lies about us in our infancy,”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p> + +<p class="noindent">he declares. It is the investment of this +visible life by an unseen, unfelt, yet real +spiritual presence for which he contends, and +he maintains that the inmost consciousness +of childhood bears witness to this truth; this +consciousness fades as the earthly life penetrates +the soul, yet it is there and recurs in +sudden moments.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">“Hence in a season of calm weather,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Though inland far we be,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Which brought us hither,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Can in a moment travel thither,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And see the Children sport upon the shore,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In thus connecting childhood with the +highest hope of the human race, Wordsworth +was repeating the note which twice +before had been struck in great epochs of +history. This third renaissance was the +awaking of the human soul to a sense of +the common rights and duties of humanity, +the dignity and worth of the Person.</p> + +<p class="tb">The poetic form, while most perfectly inclosing +these divinations of childhood, and +especially suited to the presentation of the +faint and elusive elements, is less adapted to +the philosophic and discursive examination<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> +of the subject of childhood. It is, then, an +indication of the impression which the idea +had made upon men that a prose writer +of the period, of singular insight and subtlety, +should have given some of his most +characteristic thought to an examination of +the essential elements of childhood. De +Quincey was undoubtedly strongly affected +by Wordsworth’s treatment of the subject; +he has left evidence upon this point. Nevertheless, +he appears to have sounded his own +mind and appealed to his own memory for +additional and corroborative testimony. In +his Suspiria de Profundis, a sequel to the +Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, he +offers an account of his recollections of infancy, +together with many reflections upon +the experience which he then underwent. +If it be said that the opium-eater was an +untrustworthy witness, since his dreaming +might well lead him to confuse the subtle +workings of a mature mind with the vivid +remembrance of one or two striking events +of childhood, we may consider that De +Quincey’s imagination was a powerful one, +and capable of interpreting the incidents +and emotions brought to it by memory, as a +more prosaic mind could not. We are compelled,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> +of course, in all such cases, to submit +the testimony of such a man to the judgment +of our own reason, but that reason ought, +before pronouncing a final verdict, to be +educated to perceive the possibilities of a +wider range of observation than may have +fallen to us individually, and to submit the +results to a comparison with known operations +of the human mind. Above all, it +should be borne in mind that a distinction +clearly exists between a child’s consciousness +and its power of expression. De Quincey +himself in a note says with acuteness +and justice:—</p> + +<p>“The reader must not forget in reading +this and other passages that though a child’s +feelings are spoken of, it is not the child +who speaks. I decipher what the child only +felt in cipher. And so far is this distinction +or this explanation from pointing to anything +metaphysical or doubtful, that a man must +be grossly unobservant who is not aware of +what I am here noticing, not as a peculiarity +of this child or that, but as a necessity of all +children. Whatsoever in a man’s mind blossoms +and expands to his own consciousness +in mature life must have preëxisted in germ +during his infancy. I, for instance, did not,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> +as a child, consciously read in my own deep +feelings these ideas. No, not at all; nor +was it possible for a child to do so. I, the +child, had the feelings; I, the man, decipher +them. In the child lay the handwriting mysterious +to him; in me, the interpretation and +the comment.”</p> + +<p>Assuredly this is reasonable, and since +we are looking for the recognition of childhood +in literature, we may wisely ask how +it presents itself to a man like De Quincey, +who had peculiar power in one form of +literature—the autobiographic-imaginative. +He entitles the first part of his Suspiria, +The Affliction of Childhood. It is the +record of a child’s grief, interpreted by the +man when he could translate into speech +the emotion which possessed him in his +early suffering; and near its close, De Quincey, +partially summing up his philosophy of +the subject, declares:—</p> + +<p>“God speaks to children, also, in dreams +and by the oracles that lurk in darkness. +But in solitude, above all things when made +vocal by the truths and services of a national +church, God holds communion undisturbed +with children. Solitude, though +silent as light, is like light the mightiest of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> +agencies; for solitude is essential to man. +All men come into this world alone; all +leave it alone. Even a little child has a +dread, whispering consciousness that if he +should be summoned to travel into God’s +presence, no gentle nurse will be allowed to +lead him by the hand, nor mother to carry +him in her arms, nor little sister to share +his trepidations. King and priest, warrior +and maiden, philosopher and child, all must +walk those mighty galleries alone. The +solitude, therefore, which in this world appalls +or fascinates a child’s heart, is but the +echo of a far deeper solitude, through which +already he has passed, and of another solitude, +deeper still, through which he has to +pass; reflex of one solitude, prefiguration of +another.</p> + +<p>“Deeper than the deepest of solitudes is +that which broods over childhood, bringing +before it, at intervals, the final solitude +which watches for it, within the gates of +death. Reader, I tell you in truth, and +hereafter I will convince you of this truth, +that for a Grecian child solitude was nothing, +but for a Christian child it has become +the power of God and the mystery of +God. O mighty and essential solitude, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> +wast and art and art to be! thou, kindling +under the touch of Christian revelations, +art now transfigured forever, and hast +passed from a blank negation into a secret +hieroglyphic from God, shadowing in the +hearts of infancy the very dimmest of his +truths!”</p> + +<p>I must refer the reader to the entire chapter +for a full exposition of De Quincey’s +views on this subject. Despite the bravura +style, which makes us in our soberer days +listen a little incredulously to these far-fetched +sighs and breathings, the passage +quoted bears testimony to that apprehension +of childhood which De Quincey shared with +Wordsworth. Both of these writers were +looked upon in their day as somewhat reactionary +in their poetical philosophy; so +much the more valuable is their declaration +of a poetical and philosophical faith which +was fundamentally in unison with the political +faith that lay behind the outburst of the +French Revolution. The discovery of this +new continent of childhood by such explorers +of the spiritual world marks the age as +distinctly as does the discovery of new lands +and explorations in the earlier renaissance. +It was indeed one of the great signs of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> +period ushered in by the French Revolution +and the establishment of the American +republic, that the bounds of the spiritual +world were extended. When poverty and +childhood were annexed to the poet’s domain, +the world of literature and art suddenly +became larger.</p> + +<p class="tb">At such times there are likely to be +singular exhibitions of genius, which are ill-understood +in contemporary life, but are +perceived by later observers to be part +and parcel of the age in which they occur. +Something like this may be said of the +pictures and poems of William Blake, who +was a visionary in a time when a red flame +along the horizon made his spiritual fires +invisible. He has since been rediscovered, +and has been for a generation so potent an +influence in English art that we may wisely +attend to him, not merely as a person of +genius, but as furnishing an illustration of +some of the deep things of our subject.</p> + +<p>No one acquainted with Blake’s work has +failed to observe the recurrence of a few +types drawn from elemental figures. The +lamb, the child, the old man,—these appear +and reappear, carrying the prevalent ideas<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> +in this artist’s imagination. Of all these +the child is the most central and emphatic, +even as the Songs of Innocence is the most +perfect expression of Blake’s vision of life. +It may be said that in his mind childhood +was largely resolvable into infancy, and that +when he looked upon a babe, he saw life in +its purest form, and that most suggestive of +the divine, as in the exquisite cradle song, +into which is woven the weeping of the child +Jesus for all the human race. The two +short antithetical poems, The Little Boy +Lost and The Little Boy Found, reveal the +depths which Blake penetrated when engaged +in his solitary voyage of discovery to +the little known shores of childhood. They +have, to be sure, the teasing property of parables, +and it would be hard to render them +into the unmistakable language of the understanding; +but they could be set to music, +and like the Duke we exclaim:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“That strain again! it had a dying fall.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">It must always be borne in mind that +Blake’s contribution to the literature of +childhood is through highly idealized forms. +It is spiritual or angelic childhood which +floats before his eyes, so that the little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> +creatures who dance on the green, the little +chimney sweep, the children filing into St. +Paul’s, are translated by his visionary power +into the images of an essential childhood; +they cease to be individual illustrations.</p> + +<p class="tb">We are told that in the fearful days of +the French Revolution there was an eruption +from the secret places of Paris of a vast +horde of poor, ignorant, and vicious people, +who had been kept out of sight by lords +and ladies. One may accept the fact as +symbolical of that emergence into the light +of Christianity of poverty and degradation. +The poor had always been with the world, +but it is not too much to say that now for +the first time did they begin to be recognized +as part and parcel of humanity. Wordsworth’s +poems set the seal upon this recognition. +Dickens’s novels naturalized the +poor in literature, and, as in the case of +Wordsworth, poverty and childhood went +hand in hand.</p> + +<p>Dickens, however, though he made a distinct +addition to the literature of childhood, +rather registered a presence already acknowledged +than acted as a prophet of childhood. +The great beneficent and humanitarian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> +movement of the century was well under +way, and had already found abundant expression +in ragged schools and Sunday-schools +and in education generally, when +Dickens, with his quick reporter’s sight, +seized upon salient features in this new +exhibition of humanity. He was quite aside +from the ordinary organized charities, but +he was moved by much the same spirit as +that which was briskly at work among the +poor and the young. He was caught by the +current, and his own personal experience +was swift to give special direction to his +imagination.</p> + +<p>Besides innumerable minor references, +there are certain childish figures in the multitude +of the creations of Dickens, which at +once rise to mind,—Paul Dombey, Little +Nell, Tiny Tim, Oliver Twist, David Copperfield +in his earliest days, and the Marchioness. +Dickens found out very soon that +the power to bring tears into the eyes of +people was a surer road to success than even +the power to amuse. When he was drawing +the figures of children, their tenderness, +their weakness, their susceptibility, presented +themselves as the material in which he could +skillfully work. Then he used the method<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> +which had served him so well in his larger +portraiture; he seized upon the significant +feature and emphasized it until it became +the unmistakable mark of the person. +Childhood suggests weakness, and weakness +is more apparent when there is a foil of +mental prematurity; so he invented the +hydrocephalic Paul Dombey. It suggests +tenderness; he appealed to an unhesitating +sympathy and drew for us Little Nell, intensifying +her nature by bringing her into contrast +and subtle companionship with her +imbecile grandfather. It is the defect of +Dickens that by such characters he displayed +his skill in morbid conceptions. The little +old man in Paul Dombey is not without its +prototype in real life, but Dickens appears +to have produced it as a type of tender +childhood, much as one might select a consumptive +for an illustration of extreme refinement. +Tiny Tim is a farther illustration +of this unhealthy love, on Dickens’s part, of +that which is affecting through its infirmity. +That art is truest which sees children at play +or in their mother’s arms, not in hospitals or +graveyards. It is the infirmity of humanitarianism +and of Dickens, its great exponent, +that it regards death as the great fact<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> +of life; that it seeks to ward it off as the +greatest of evils, and when it comes, hastens +to cover it out of sight with flowers. This +conception of death is bound up with an +overweening sense of the importance of +these years of life. There is a nobler way, +and literature and art are slowly confessing +it, as they devote their strength to that +which is eternal in life, not to that which is +perishable. Wordsworth’s maiden in We +are Seven, with her simple, unhesitating +belief in the continuity of life, the imperishability +of the person, holds a surer place in +literature than Paul Dombey, who makes the +ocean with its tides wait for him to die.</p> + +<p>It is only fair to say, however, that the +caricature to be found in Dickens is scarcely +more violent an extreme to some minds than +is the idealism to be found in Wordsworth, +De Quincey, and Blake an opposite extreme +to minds otherwise constituted. The early +life of Wordsworth, passed, as he tells us, +in the solitude of nature, explains much of +his subsequent attitude toward childhood +and youth. It is out of such an experience +that Lucy Gray was written. In like manner +the early life of Dickens discloses something +of a nature which reappears afterward<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> +in his pictures of childhood. A wounded +sensibility is unquestionably the pathetic +history of many, and Dickens has contributed +to the natural history of childhood a +distinct account of this feature.</p> + +<p>The first appearance of a new form in literature +produces an impression which can +never be repeated. However freshly readers +in this decade may come to the works of +Dickens, it is impossible that they should +have the same distinct sensation which men +and women had who caught up the numbers +of The Old Curiosity Shop as they fell from +the press for the first time. There can +never again be such a lamentation over +Little Nell, when men like Jeffrey, a hardened +old critic, made no concealment of +their tears. Yet I am disposed to think +that this does not give a complete account +of the phenomenon. Just as Wordsworth’s +Alice Fell is now but one of a procession +of forlorn maidens, though at the head of +it, so the children of Dickens are merely +somewhat more vivid personages in a multitude +of childish creation. The child is +no longer a novelty either in poetry or in +fiction. It is an accepted character, one of +the <i>dramatis personæ</i> of literature.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p> + +<p>For, when all is said of Dickens’s work, +taken only as the product of a mind singularly +gifted with reporting what it has +seen, there remains the noticeable fact that +scarcely had the echoes died away from the +voice of Wordsworth, who ushered in the +literature of the new age, when a great man +of the people came forward, in the person +of Dickens, and found it the most natural +thing in the world to give men pictures of +child-life, and that after the first surprise attendant +upon novelty was over, writers of all +sorts were busy modeling these small figures.</p> + +<p class="tb">The child once introduced into literature, +the significance of its appearance thereafter +is not so much in individual instances as in +the general and familiar acceptance of the +phenomenon. At least, so it appears from +our near view. It is not impossible that later +students may perceive notes in our literature +of more meaning than we now surmise. +They may understand better than we why +Tennyson should have made a babe the +heroine of The Princess, as he acknowledges +to Mr. Dawson that he did, though only +one or two critics had discovered the fact, +and why Mr. Swinburne, who is supposed to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> +scoff at a literature <i>virginibus puerisque</i>, +should have devoted so much of his lyric +energy to childhood. The stream which ran +with so broken a course down to Wordsworth +has spread now into a broad, full +river. Childhood is part and parcel of every +poet’s material; children play in and out of +fiction, and readers are accustomed to meeting +them in books, and to finding them +often as finely discriminated by the novelist +as are their elders.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, from the time when childhood +was newly discovered, that is to say, roughly, +in the closing years of the last century, there +has been a literature in process of formation +which has for its audience children themselves. +I called attention briefly, at the beginning +of this study, to the interesting fact +that there was a correlation in time, at least, +between childhood in literature and a literature +for children. A nearer study of the +literature of this century shows very clearly +that while the great constructive artists have +been making room for the figures of infancy +and youth, and even consciously explaining +their presence, a host of minor writers, without +much thought of art, have been busy +over the same figures for other purposes.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> +Not only so, but in several instances the +great artists themselves have distinctly +turned aside from their ordinary audience +and appealed directly to children.</p> + +<p>Where was the child in English literature +before Goldsmith? and where before Goldsmith’s +time was there a book for children? +There have been, it is true, nursery tales in +all ages: ditties, and songs, and lullabies; +unwritten stories, which mothers in England +told when they themselves could have read +nothing; but there came a time when children +were distinctly recognized as the occasion +of formal literature, when authors and +publishers began to heed a new public. It +was impossible that there should be this discovery +of childhood without a corresponding +effort on the part of men and women to get +at it, and to hold direct intercourse with it.</p> + +<p>By a natural instinct, writers for children +began at once to write about children. They +were moved by educational rather than by +artistic impulses, so that their creations +were subordinate to the lessons which they +conveyed. During the period when Wordsworth, +Lamb, De Quincey, and Blake were +idealizing childhood, and seeing in it artistic +possibilities, there flourished a school of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> +writing for the young which also dealt with +childhood, but with a sturdy realism. This +school had its representatives in Mrs. Barbauld, +Mr. Day, the Aikens, Maria Edgeworth, +Ann and Jane Taylor, and holds a +place still with Evenings at Home, The Parent’s +Assistant, Hymns in Prose for Children, +Hymns for Infant Minds, Frank, and +Sandford and Merton. The characteristics +of this literature are simple, and will be recalled +by many who dwell with an affectionate +and regretful regard upon books which +they find it somewhat difficult to persuade +their children to read.</p> + +<p>These books were didactic; they assumed +in the main the air of wise teachers; they +were sometimes condescending; they appealed +to the understanding rather than to +the imagination of the child, and they +abounded in stores of useful information +upon all manner of subjects. They contained +precursors of a long series of juvenile +monitors, and the grandfathers who knew +Mr. Barlow had children who knew Mr. +Holiday, Rollo, Jonas, and Mr. George, and +grandchildren who may be suspected of an +acquaintance with Mr. Bodley and his much +traveled and very inquisitive family.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span></p> + +<p>Yet, the earlier works, though now somewhat +antiquated, were not infrequently lively +and even humorous in their portraiture of +children. They were written in the main +out of a sincere interest in the young, and +by those who were accustomed to watch the +unfolding of childish nature. If they reflected +a somewhat formal relation between +the old and the young, it must be remembered +that the actual relation was a formal +one: that the young had not yet come into +familiar and genial relation with the old. +Indeed, the books themselves were somewhat +revolutionary in a small way. Much +that seems stiff and even unnatural to us +now was quite easy and colloquial to their +first readers, and in their eagerness to lure +children into ways of pleasant instruction, +the authors broke down something of the +reserve which existed between fathers and +sons in the English life which they portrayed. +Yet we cannot help being struck +by the contrast between the sublimated +philosophy of Wordsworth and the prosaic +applications of the Edgeworth school. +Heaven lies about us in our infancy? Oh, +yes, a heaven that is to be looked at through +a spy-glass and explained by means of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> +home-made orrery. It would seem as if the +spirit of childhood had been discerned with +all its inherent capacity, but that the actual +children of this matter-of-fact world had not +yet been fairly seen by the light of this +philosophy.</p> + +<p>The literature which we are considering +was indeed a serious attempt at holding +intercourse with childish minds. It had +the embarrassment of beginnings; there +was about it an uncertain groping in the +dark of childhood, and it was desperately +theory-ridden. But it had also the mark of +sincerity, and one feels in reading it that the +writers were genuinely indifferent in most +cases to the figure they might be cutting +before the world; they were bent upon +reaching this audience, and were unobservant +of the larger world behind. In most +cases, I say. I suspect that Mrs. Barbauld, +with her solemn dullness, was the victim of +a notion that she was producing a new order +of literature, and in this she was encouraged +by a circle of older readers; the children +probably stared at her with sufficient calmness +to keep her ignorant of their real +thoughts.</p> + +<p>How real literature looked upon the dusty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> +high-road laid out across the fields by some +of these writers may be read in the letters +of the day. Coleridge jibed at that “pleonasm +of nakedness,” Mrs. Bare-bald, and +Lamb in a letter to Coleridge speaks his +mind with refreshing frankness: “Goody +Two Shoes,” he says, “is almost out of print. +Mrs. Barbauld’s stuff has banished all the +old classics of the nursery; and the shopman +at Newberry’s hardly deigned to reach +them off an old exploded corner of a shelf +when Mary asked for them. Mrs. B.’s and +Mrs. Trimmer’s nonsense lay in piles about. +Knowledge insignificant and vapid as Mrs. +B.’s books convey, it seems, must come to +a child in the <i>shape of knowledge</i>, and his +empty noddle must be turned with conceit +of his own powers when he has learned that +a horse is an animal, and Billy is better +than a horse, and such like; instead of that +beautiful interest in wild tales which made +the child a man, while all the time he suspected +himself to be no bigger than a child. +Science has succeeded to poetry no less in +the little walks of children than with men. +Is there no possibility of averting this sore +evil? Think of what you would have been +now, if, instead of being fed with tales and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> +old wives’ fables in childhood, you had been +crammed with geography and natural history! +Hang them! I mean the cursed +reasoning crew, those blights and blasts of +all that is human in man and child.” Yet +Lamb and his sister both took a lively interest +in genuine books for the young, and +their own contributions have, alas! gone the +way, for the most part, of other worn-out +literature. It was mainly as a direct educative +power that this new interest in children +first found expression; with it, however, was +mingled a more artistic purpose, and the +two streams of tendency have ever since +been recognizable, sometimes separate, oftener +combined. The Lambs’ own work +was illustrative of this union of the didactic +and the artistic. It is outside the scope +of this study to dwell at length upon this +phase of literature. It is enough to point +out the fact that there is a distinct class of +books which has grown up quite within the +memory of men now living. It is involved +with industrial and commercial interests; it +invites the attention of authors, and the +infrequent criticism of reviewers; it has its +own subdivisions like the larger literature; +it boasts of cyclopædias and commentaries;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> +it includes histories, travels, poems, works +in science, theological treatises. It is a distinct +principality of the Kingdom of Letters. +It is idle to complain of the present abundance +of children’s books, as if somebody +were to blame for it. There has been no +conspiracy of publishers and authors. It is +worse than folly to look with contempt upon +the movement; the faithful student will seek +rather to study this new force, and if possible +to guide it into right channels.</p> + +<p class="tb">The distinction between books for the +young and books for the old is a somewhat +arbitrary one, and many have discovered for +themselves and their children that instead +of one poor corner of literature being fenced +off for the lamb, planted with tender grass +which is quickly devoured, and with many +medicinal but disagreeable herbs which are +nibbled at when the grass is gone, the whole +wide pasture land is their native home, and +the grass more tender where fresh streams +flow than it possibly can be in the paddock, +however carefully planted and watched. +This community of possession is more recognizable +in the higher than in the lower +forms of literature. It is still more clear in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> +pictorial art. Art is by its nature more +closely representative of childhood than literature +can be, and Gainsborough and Reynolds +made no innovation when they painted +children, although the latter, by his evident +partiality for these subjects, does indicate a +susceptibility to the new knowledge which +was coming upon the world. There are +other influences which reinforce the artistic +pleasure, such as the domestic sense, the +pride of family, the ease of procuring unconscious +models. No one can visit an English +exhibition of paintings without being struck +by the extraordinary number of subjects +taken from childhood. It is in this field +that Millais has won famous laurels, and +when the great body of book illustrations +is scanned, what designs have half the +popularity of Doyle’s fairies and Miss +Greenaway’s idyllic children? I sometimes +wonder why this should be the case in +England, when in America, the paradise of +children, there is a conspicuous absence of +these subjects from galleries.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII<br> +<span class="smaller">IN FRENCH AND GERMAN LITERATURE</span></h2> + +</div> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>French literature before the Revolution +was more barren of reference to childhood +than was English literature. Especially is +this true of the eighteenth century, with its +superficial disbelief and its bitter protest +against superstition, under which term was +comprehended the supernatural as well as +the preternatural. There were exceptions, +as in the case of Fénelon, and the constitutional +sentiment of the French was easily +moved by the appeal of dependent childhood. +In Rousseau one may read how it is possible +to weep over children, and yet leave one’s +own to the cold mercy of a foundling +asylum. It is in Rousseau’s disciple, however, +Bernardin de St. Pierre, that we find +the most artistic expression of pure sentimentalism, +and the story of Paul and Virginia +is an effort at representing a world +where childhood, in its innocence, is conceived<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> +of as the symbol of ideal human life. +St. Pierre thought of childhood and nature +as possessed of strong negative virtues; they +were uncontaminated, they were unsophisticated. +To escape from an evil world, +he fled in imagination to an island of the +tropics, where all that life required was +readily furnished by lavish nature. He +makes his family to consist chiefly of women +and children. The masculine element is +avoided as something disturbing, and except +for the harmless old man who acts as chorus, +it is discovered first as a rude, barbaric, and +cruel force in the person of the governor of +the island, who has no faith in Madame de +la Tour, and in the person of the planter at +the Black River, who has been an inhuman +master to his slave.</p> + +<p>The childhood of Paul and Virginia is +made to have a pastoral, idyllic character. +Their sorrows and misfortunes come wholly +from evils which lie beyond their control. +St. Pierre brought back a golden age by +ignoring the existence of evil in the heart of +man; he conceived it possible to construct +an ideal world by what was vaguely expressed +in the words “a return to nature.” +As he reflects in the story: “Their theology<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> +consisted in sentiment like that of nature; +and their morality in action like that of the +gospel. Those families had no particular +days devoted to pleasure, and others to sadness. +Every day was to them a holiday, and +all which surrounded them one holy temple, +where they forever adored an Infinite Intelligence, +almighty and the friend of humankind. +A sentiment of confidence in his +supreme power filled their minds with consolation +for the past, with fortitude for +the present, and with hope for the future. +Behold how these women, compelled by misfortune +to return to a state of nature, had +unfolded in their own bosoms, and in those +of their children, the feelings which nature +gives us, our best support under evil!”</p> + +<p>However we may discover the limitations +of the sentimental philosophy, and its inadequacy +when brought face to face with evil +in life, there is a surface agreement with +Christianity in this instinctive turning to +childhood as the hope of the world. Yet +the difference is radical. The child, in the +Christian conception, holds the promise of +things to come; in the conception of French +sentiment of the Rousseau and St. Pierre +type, the child is a refuge from present evil,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> +a mournful reminiscence of a lost Paradise. +If only we could keep it a child! is the cry +of this school,—keep it from knowing this +wicked, unhappy world! But alas! there +are separations and shipwrecks. Virginia +is washed ashore by the cruel waves. Paul, +bereft of reason, dies, and is buried in the +same grave. The two, growing like plants +in nature, are stricken down by the mysterious, +fateful powers of nature.</p> + +<p>The contrast between this unreal recourse +to nature and the strong yet subtle return +which characterizes Wordsworth and his +school is probably more apparent to the +English and American mind than to the +French. Yet a reasonable comparison betrays +the fatal weakness of the one in that +it leaves out of view whatever in nature disturbs +a smooth, summer-day world. When +St. Pierre talks of a return to nature, he +does not mean the jungle and the pestiferous +swamp; he regards these as left behind in +Paris. Yet the conclusion of his story is +the confession wrung from faithful art that +Nature is after all but a step-mother to +humanity.</p> + +<p>In the great romantic movement which +revolutionized French literature, an immense<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> +impetus was given to the mind, and literature +thenceforth reflected a wider range of +thought and feeling. In few respects does +this appear more significantly than in the +treatment of childhood. There is a robustness +about the sentiment which separates it +from the earlier regard of such writers as we +have named. Lamartine, who certainly was +not devoid of sentiment, passes by his own +earliest childhood in Les Confidences with +indifference. “I shall not,” he says, “follow +the example of J. J. Rousseau in his +Confessions. I shall not relate to you the +trifling events of my early childhood. Man +only dates from the commencement of feeling +and thought; until the man is a being, he +is not even a child.... Let us leave, then, +the cradle to the nurses, and our first smiles, +our first tears, and our first lisping accents +to the ecstasies of our mothers. I do not +wish to inflict on you any but my earliest +recollections, embellished by the light of +reason.” He gives, accordingly, two scenes +of his childhood: one an interior, where his +father reads aloud to his mother from +Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered; the other an +outdoor scene, where he engages in the +rural sports of the neighborhood. Each<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span> +picture is delightfully drawn, with minute +detail, with poetic touch, with affectionate +recollection. Encouraged, apparently, by +the warmth which this memory has inspired, +Lamartine continues to dwell upon the +images of his childhood, especially as it has +to do with the thought of his mother. He +paints the simple garden attached to his +father’s home, and resting a moment reflects:—</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is indeed all, and yet that is +what sufficed during so many years for the +gratification, for the reveries, for the sweet +leisures, and for the as sweet labors of a +father, a mother, and eight children! Such +is what still suffices, even at the present day, +for the nourishment of these recollections. +Such is the Eden of their childhood, where +their most serene thoughts take refuge when +they wish to receive a little of that dew of +the morning life, a little of that beaming +light of early dawn, which shines pure and +radiant for man only amid the scenes of his +birth. There is not a tree, there is not a +carnation, there is not a mossy stone of this +garden, which is not entwined in their soul +as if it formed part of it. This nook of +earth seems to us immense, such a host of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> +objects and of recollections does it contain +for us in so narrow a space.”</p> + +<p>The fullness with which Lamartine treats +the recollection of his youth partakes of the +general spirit of French memoirs,—a spirit, +to speak roughly, which regards persons +rather than institutions,—but indicates also +something of the new spirit which informed +literature when it elevated childhood into a +place of real dignity. There are passages, +indeed, which have a special significance as +intimating a consciousness of the deeper relations +of childhood. Michelet, for instance, +in his philosophy of the unfolding of +woman’s life, recognizes the characteristics +of maidenhood as anticipatory of maturity, +and does it with so serious a contemplation +that we forget to smile when we discover +him profoundly observant of those instincts +of maternity which are shown in the care of +a child for its doll.</p> + +<p>This attitude toward the child is observable +in the masters of modern French literature. +However far they may be removed +from any mere domestic regard of the subject, +they apprehend the peculiar sacredness +attaching to children. Alfred de Musset, +for example, though by no means a poet of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> +the family, can never speak of children +without emotion. Not to multiply instances, +it is enough to take the great poet +of the period. Victor Hugo deserves, it has +been said, to be called the poet of infancy, +not only for the reason that he has written +of the young freely, but has in his Les +Enfants, Livre des Mères, written for them. +It is to be observed that the suggestion +comes, with Hugo, chiefly from the children +of his family; from his brother Eugène, +who died an early death; from his daughter, +whom he mourns in tender verse; and from +his grandchildren. One feels the sincerity +of a great poet when he draws the inspiration +for such themes from his own familiar +kind.</p> + +<p>It may be said in general of the contribution +made to this literature by the French +that it partakes of those qualities of lightness +and grace which mark the greater literature; +that the image of childhood is a joyous, +innocent one, and satisfies the eye that +looks for beauty and delicacy. Sentiment +predominates, but it is a sentiment that +makes little draught upon thought. There +is a disposition now to regard children as +dolls and playthings, the amusement of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> +hour; now to make them the object of an +attitudinizing sentiment, which is practically +wasted unless there be some one at hand to +applaud it.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>When we pass from France to Germany +we are aware that, however we may use the +same terms, and recognize the existence of +sentiment as a strong element in the literature +of both countries, there is a radical difference +in tone. It is not merely that French +sentiment is graceful and German sentiment +clumsy: the grace of the one connects itself +with a fine art,—we feel an instinctive good +taste in its expression; in the other, the awkwardness, +the obtrusiveness, seem to be the +issue of an excess of natural and homely feeling. +It would be too much to say that French +sentiment is insincere and German sentiment +unpleasantly sincere; that the one is assumed +and the other uncalculating,—we cannot +thus dismiss elementary feeling in two great +peoples. But an Englishman or American, +to whom, in his reserve, the sentiment of +either nation is apt to be a little oppressive, +is very likely to smile at the French and feel +uncomfortable in the presence of the German;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> +to regard the French feeling as a temporary +mood, the German as a permanent +state.</p> + +<p>Be this as it may, it is true that the +German feeling with regard to childhood, +as it finds expression in life and literature, +revolves very closely about the child in its +home, not the child as a charming object in +nature. Childhood, in German literature, is +conceived very generally in its purely domestic +relations, and is so positive an element +as to have attracted the attention of other +nations, and even to have given rise to a +petty cult. Coleridge, writing from Germany +in 1799, reports to his English readers, +as something strange to himself, and of local +significance only, the custom of Christmas +gifts from parents to children and from children +to parents. He is especially struck with +the custom of representing these presents as +coming from Jesus Christ.</p> + +<p>The whole structure of Santa Claus and +Kriss Kringle, the Christ Child and Pelznichel, +with the attendant ceremonies of the +Christmas tree, is built into the child life of +Germany and the Low Countries; and it is +by the energy of this childish miracle that it +has passed over into English, and especially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> +into American life. All this warmth of domestic +feeling is by no means a modern discovery. +It is a prime characteristic of the +Germanic people, and one strong reason for +the ascendency of Lutheranism may be found +in the singular exposition of the German +character which Luther presented. He was +not merely a man of the people; through his +life and writings and organizing faculty he +impressed himself positively on the German +national character, not turning it aside, but +deepening the channels in which it ran. +Certain it is that the luxuriance of his +nature was almost riotous on the side of +family life. “The leader of the age,” says +Canon Mozley, “and the adviser of princes, +affecting no station and courting no great +men, was externally one of the common +crowd, and the plainest of it. In domestic +life the same heart and nature appear. There +he overflows with affection, warmth, tenderness; +with all the amiable banter of the husband, +and all the sweet arts and pretty nonsense +of a father among his little children. +Whether he is joking, lecturing his ‘rib +Catharine,’ his ‘gracious dame Catharine,’ +or writing a description of fairyland and +horses with silver saddles to his ‘voracious,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> +bibacious, loquacious,’ little John; or +whether he is in the agony of grief over +the death-bed of his favorite daughter, Magdalene, +we see the same exuberant, tender +character.”<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p> + +<p>In this sketch of Luther we may read +some of the general characteristics of the +Germanic life, and we are ready, at the first +suggestion, to assent to the proposition that +the German people, judged by the apparatus +of childhood, books, pictures, toys, and +schools, stands before other nations. The +material for the portraiture of childhood +has been abundant; the social history, the +biographies, give constant intimations of the +fullness with which family life, inclosing +childhood, has been dwelt upon in the mind. +The autobiographies of poets and novelists +almost invariably give great attention to the +period of childhood. A very interesting +illustration of this may be found in the life +of Richter, who stands at the head of the +great Germans in his portrayal of childhood.</p> + +<p>“Men who have a firm hold on nothing +else,” says Richter in his brief autobiography, +“delight in deep, far-reaching recollection<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> +of their days of childhood, and in this +billowy existence they anchor on that, far +more than on the thought of later difficulties. +Perhaps for two reasons: that in this +retrospection they press nearer to the gate +of life guarded by spiritual existences; and +secondly, that they hope, in the spiritual +power of an earlier consciousness, to make +themselves independent of the little, contemptible +annoyances that surround humanity.” +He then recites an incident from his +second year, and continues: “This little +morning-star of earliest recollection stands +yet tolerably clear in its low horizon, but +growing paler as the daylight of life rises +higher. And now I remember only this +clearly, that in earlier life I remembered +everything clearly.”</p> + +<p>How clearly will be apparent to the reader +who follows Richter through the minute and +detailed narrative of his childish life, and in +his writings the images of this early life are +constantly reappearing under different forms. +Something is no doubt due to the early birth +in Richter of a self-consciousness, bred in +part by the solitude of his life. It may be +said with some assurance that the vividness +of early recollection has much to do with determining<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> +the poet and novelist and essayist +in his choice of themes bearing directly +upon childhood. The childish experience of +Wordsworth, De Quincey, Dickens, Lamartine, +and Richter is clearly traceable in the +writings of these men. If they look into +their own hearts and write, the images +which they bring forth are so abundantly +of childhood that they cannot avoid making +use of them, especially since they retain recollections +which demand the interpretation +of the maturer mind. That they should so +freely draw from this storehouse of childish +experience reflects also the temper of the +age for which they write. The fullness +with which the themes of childhood are +treated means not that a few men have +suddenly discovered the subject, but that +all are sensitive to these same impressions.</p> + +<p>It is not, however, the vividness of recollection +alone, but the early birth of consciousness, +which will determine the treatment +of the subject. If one remember the +facts of his early years rather than how he +thought and felt about those facts, he will +be less inclined to dwell upon the facts afterward, +or make use of them in his work. +They will have little significance to him. A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> +distinction in this view is to be observed +between Richter and Goethe. The autobiographies +of the two men reveal the different +impressions made upon them by their childhood. +The facts which Goethe recalls are +but little associated with contemporaneous +reflection upon the facts, and they serve but +a trifling purpose in Goethe’s art. The +facts which Richter recalls are imbedded in +a distinct conception regarding them, and +perform a very positive function in his art.</p> + +<p>The character of Mignon may be dismissed +from special consideration, for it is +clear that Goethe used Mignon’s diminutiveness +and implied youth only to heighten +the effect of her elfish and dwarfish nature. +The most considerable reference to childhood +is perhaps in the Sorrows of Young +Werther, where the relations between Werther +and Charlotte comprise a sketchy group +of children who act as foils or accompaniments +to the pair. Werther discovers Charlotte, +it will be remembered, cutting slices +of bread for her younger brothers and sisters; +it is by this means that Goethe would +give a charm to the character, presenting +it in its homely, domestic setting. But his +purpose is also to intimate the exceeding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> +sensibility of Werther, and he represents +him as taking a most affectionate interest +in the little children whom he sees on his +walks. I suspect, indeed, that Goethe in +this has distinctly borrowed from the Vicar +of Wakefield; at any rate, the comparison +is easily suggested, and one brings away the +impression of Goldsmith’s genuine feeling +and of Goethe’s deliberate assumption of a +feeling for artistic purposes. Nevertheless, +Goethe makes very positive use of childhood +in this novel, not only through the +figures of children, but also through the sentiment +of childhood.</p> + +<p>“Nothing on this earth, my dear Wilhelm,” +says Werther, “affects my heart so +much as children. When I consider them; +when I mark in the little creatures the seeds +of all those virtues and qualities which they +will one day find so indispensable; when I +behold in the obstinate all the future firmness +and constancy of a noble character, in +the capricious that levity and gayety of temper +which will carry them lightly over the +dangers and troubles of life, their whole +nature simple and unpolluted, then I call to +mind the golden words of the Great Teacher +of mankind: ‘Except ye become as little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> +children.’ And now, my friend, these children, +who are our equals, whom we ought to +consider as our models, we treat as subjects. +They are allowed no will of their own! +And have we then none ourselves? Whence +comes our exclusive right? Is it because +we are older and more experienced? Great +God! from the height of thy heaven, thou +beholdest great children and little children, +and no others; and thy Son has long since +declared which afford the greatest pleasure. +But they believe in him, and hear him not,—that +too is an old story; and they train +their children after their own image.”</p> + +<p>We must regard this as a somewhat distorted +application of the words of the gospel, +but it is interesting as denoting that Goethe +also, who stood so much in the centre of illumination, +had perceived the revealing light +to fall upon the heads of young children. +It is not, however, so much by his direct as +by his indirect influence that Goethe is connected +with our subject. If Luther was +both an exponent of German feeling and a +determining cause of its direction, Goethe +occupies a similar relation as an expression +of German intellectualism and a stimulator +of German thought. A hundred years after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> +his birth, when measures were taking to celebrate +the centenary by the establishment of +some educational foundation to bear his +name, the enthusiastic supporters of Froebel +sought to divert public interest into the +channel of this movement for the cultivation +of childhood. Froebel’s philosophy has affected +modern educational systems even +where his method has not been scrupulously +followed. Its influence upon literature and +art can scarcely be traced, except so far as +it has tended to give direction and set limits +to the great body of books and pictures, +which, made for children, are also expository +and illustrative of the life of children. I +mention him simply as an additional illustration +of the grasp which the whole subject +of childhood has obtained in Germany; it +has made itself felt in religion and politics; +so revolutionary was Froebel’s philosophy +held to be that his schools were suppressed +at one time by the government as tending +to subvert the state. This was not strange, +since Froebel’s own view as to the education +of children was radical and comprehensive.</p> + +<p>A child’s life finds its chief expression +in play, and in play its social instincts are +developed. Now the kindergarten recognizes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> +the fact that play is the child’s business, +not his recreation, and undertakes to +guide and form the child through play. It +converts that which would otherwise be aimless +or willful into creative, orderly, and governed +action. Out of the play as governed +by the wise kindergartner grows a spirit of +courtesy, self-control, forbearance, unselfishness. +The whole force of the education is +directed toward a development of the child +which never forgets that he is a person in +harmonious relation to others. Community, +not competition, is the watchword of the +school. In this view the kindergarten has +its basis in the same law which lies at the +foundation of a free republic. Obedience, +as taught by the system of public schools, is +an obedience to rules; it may be likened to +the obedience of the soldier,—a noble thing, +but not the highest form of human subjection +of the will. Obedience as evolved in +the true kindergarten is a conscious obedience +to law. The unity of life in the school, +with entire freedom of development in the +individual, is the aim of the kindergarten.</p> + +<p class="tb">The enthusiasm which made itself felt in +France in the rise of the romantic school,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> +with its expression chiefly through poetry, +the drama, and fiction, disclosed its power +likewise in Germany. There, however, other +channels offered a course for the new current. +The rise of the school of religious +painters, of which Overbeck and Cornelius +were eminent examples, was a distinct issue +of the movement of the times. It was +regarded as reactionary by some, but its reaction +was rather in form than in spirit. +It ran counter to a Philistinism which was +complacent and indifferent to spiritual life, +and it sought to embody its ideas in forms +which not only Philistinism but humanism +contemned, yet it was all the while working +in the interest of a higher freedom. It is +noticeable, therefore, that this religious art, +in its choice of subjects, not only resorted +to the early ecclesiological type, but struck +out into a new path, choosing themes which +imply a subjective view of Christianity. +Thus, Overbeck’s picture of Christ blessing +little children, a subject which is a favorite +one of modern religious art, is a distinct +recognition of modern sentiment. Here is +the relation borne by the Christ to little children +presented by a religious art, which, +however much it might seek to reinstate the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> +old forms, could not help being affected by +the new life of Christianity. Overbeck went +to the early Florentines for his masters, but +he did not find this subject among their +works. He caught it from the new reading +of the old gospel.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII<br> +<span class="smaller">HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>As Overbeck and his school returned to +the religious art which preceded the Renaissance, +so Thorwaldsen, like Canova and +lesser men, turned back to Greek art, and +was working contemporaneously with Overbeck +at Rome in a very different temper. +To him the central figure of Christianity +was not a child in its mother’s arms, but a +strong, thoughtful man; for childhood he +turned to the sportive conception of Amor, +which he embodied in a great variety of +forms. The myth appealed, aside from the +opportunity which it offered for the expression +of sensuous beauty, to his northern love +of fairyland. His countryman, Andersen, +tells us how, when they were all seated in +the dusk, Thorwaldsen would come from his +work and beg for a fairy-tale.</p> + +<p>It is Andersen himself who has made +the most unique contribution not only to the +literature which children read, but to that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> +which is illustrative of childhood. He attained +his eminence sheerly by the exhibition +of a power which resulted from his information +by the spirit of childhood. He +was not only an interpreter of childhood; he +was the first child who made a real contribution +to literature. The work by which he is +best known is nothing more nor less than an +artistic creation of precisely the order which +is common among children.</p> + +<p>It is customary to speak of his best +known short stories as fairy tales; wonder-stories +is in some respects a more exact description, +but the name has hardly a native +sound. Andersen himself classed his stories +under the two heads of <i>historier</i> and <i>eventyr</i>; +the <i>historier</i> corresponds well enough with +its English mate, being the history of human +action, or, since it is a short history, the +story; the <i>eventyr</i>, more nearly allied perhaps +to the German <i>abenteuer</i> than to the +English <i>adventure</i>, presumes an element of +strangeness causing wonder, while it does not +necessarily demand the machinery of the supernatural. +When we speak of fairy tales, +we have before our minds the existence, for +artistic purposes, of a spiritual world peopled +with beings that exercise themselves in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> +human affairs, and are endowed in the main +with human attributes, though possessed of +certain ethereal advantages, and generally +under orders from some superior power, +often dimly understood as fate; the Italians, +indeed, call the fairy <i>fata</i>. In a rough way +we include under the title of fairies all the +terrible and grotesque shapes as well, and +this world of spiritual beings is made to consist +of giants, ogres, brownies, pixies, nisses, +gnomes, elves, and whatever other creatures +have found in it a local habitation and name. +The fairy itself is generally represented as +very diminutive, the result, apparently, of +an attempted compromise between the imagination +and the senses, by which the existence +of fairies for certain purposes is conceded +on condition they shall be made so +small that the senses may be excused from +recognizing them.</p> + +<p>The belief in fairies gave rise to the genuine +fairy tale, which is now an acknowledged +classic, and the gradual elimination of this +belief from the civilized mind has been attended +with some awkwardness. These +creations of fancy—if we must so dismiss +them—had secured a somewhat positive recognition +in literature before it was finally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> +discovered that they came out of the unseen +and therefore could have no life. Once received +into literature they could not well be +ignored, but the understanding, which appears +to serve as special police in such cases, +now has orders to admit no new-comers +unless they answer to one of three classes: +either they must be direct descendants of +the fairies of literature, having certain marks +about them to indicate their parentage, or +they must be teachers of morality thus disguised, +or they may be mere masqueraders; +one thing is certain, they must spring from +no belief in fairy life, but be one and all referred +to some sufficient cause,—a dream, +a moral lesson, a chemical experiment. But +it is found that literature has its own sympathies, +not always compassed by the mere +understanding, and the consequence is that +the sham fairies in the sham fairy tales +never really get into literature at all, but +disappear in limbo; while every now and +then a genuine fairy, born of a genuine, +poetic belief, secures a place in spite of the +vigilance of the guard.</p> + +<p>Perhaps nothing has done more to vulgarize +the fairy than its introduction upon the +stage; the charm of the fairy tale is in its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> +divorce from human experience; the charm +of the stage is in its realization, in miniature, +of human life. If the frog is heard to speak, +if the dog is turned before one’s eyes into +a prince, by having cold water dashed over +it, the charm of the fairy tale has fled, and +in its place we have only the perplexing +pleasure of legerdemain. The effect of producing +these scenes upon the stage is to +bring them one step nearer to sensuous reality, +and one step further from imaginative +reality; and since the real life of fairy is in +the imagination, a wrong is committed when +it is dragged from its shadowy hiding-place +and made to turn into ashes under the calcium +light of the understanding.</p> + +<p>By a tacit agreement fairy tales have come +to be consigned to the nursery; the old tools +of superstition have become the child’s toys, +and when a writer comes forward, now, +bringing new fairy tales, it is almost always +with an apology, not for trespassing upon +ground already occupied, but for indulging +in what is no longer belief, but make-belief. +“My story,” he is apt to say, “is not true; +we none of us believe it, and I shall give +you good evidence before I am done that +least of all do I believe it. I shall probably<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> +explain it by referring it to a strange dream, +or shall justify it by the excellent lesson it +is to teach. I adopt the fairy form as +suited to the imagination of children; it is +a childish thing, and I am half ashamed, as +a grown person, to be found engaged in such +nonsense.” Out of this way of regarding +fairy tales has come that peculiar monstrosity +of the times, the scientific fairy tale, +which is nothing short of an insult to a +whole race of innocent beings. It may be +accepted as a foregone conclusion that with +a disbelief in fairies the genuine fairy tale +has died, and that it is better to content ourselves +with those stories which sprang from +actual belief, telling them over to successive +generations of children, than to seek to extend +the literature by any ingenuity of modern +skepticism. There they are, the fairy +tales without authorship, as imperishable as +nursery ditties; scholarly collections of them +may be made, but they will have their true +preservation, not as specimens in a museum +of literary curiosities, but as children’s toys. +Like the sleeping princess in the wood, the +fairy tale may be hedged about with bristling +notes and thickets of commentaries, +but the child will pass straight to the beauty,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> +and awaken for his own delight the old +charmed life.</p> + +<p>It is worth noting, then, that just when +historical criticism, under the impulse of +the Grimms, was ordering and accounting +for these fragile creations,—a sure mark +that they were ceasing to exist as living forms +in literature,—Hans Christian Andersen +should have come forward as master in a +new order of stories, which may be regarded +as the true literary successor to the old order +of fairy tales, answering the demands of a +spirit which rejects the pale ghost of the +scientific or moral or jocular or pedantic +fairy tale. Andersen, indeed, has invented +fairy tales purely such, and has given form +and enduring substance to traditional stories +current in Scandinavia; but it is not upon +such work that his real fame rests, and it is +certain that while he will be mentioned in +the biographical dictionaries as the writer +of novels, poems, romances, dramas, sketches +of travel, and an autobiography, he will be +known and read as the author of certain +short stories, of which the charm at first +glance seems to be in the sudden discovery +of life and humor in what are ordinarily +regarded as inanimate objects, or what are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> +somewhat compassionately called dumb animals. +When we have read and studied the +stories further, and perceived their ingenuity +and wit and humane philosophy, we can +after all give no better account of their +charm than just this, that they disclose the +possible or fancied parallel to human life +carried on by what our senses tell us has +no life, or our reason assures us has no rational +power.</p> + +<p>The life which Andersen sets before us is +in fact a dramatic representation upon an +imaginary stage, with puppets that are not +pulled by strings, but have their own muscular +and nervous economy. The life which +he displays is not a travesty of human life, +it is human life repeated in miniature under +conditions which give a charming and unexpected +variety. By some transmigration, +souls have passed into tin-soldiers, balls, +tops, beetles, money-pigs, coins, shoes, leap-frogs, +matches, and even such attenuated individualities +as darning-needles; and when, +informing these apparently dead or stupid +bodies, they begin to make manifestations, +it is always in perfect consistency with the +ordinary conditions of the bodies they occupy, +though the several objects become by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> +this endowment of souls suddenly expanded +in their capacity. Perhaps in nothing is +Andersen’s delicacy of artistic feeling better +shown than in the manner in which he deals +with his animated creations when they are +brought into direct relations with human beings. +The absurdity which the bald understanding +perceives is dexterously suppressed +by a reduction of all the factors to one common +term. For example, in his story of The +Leap-Frog, he tells how a flea, a grasshopper +and a leap-frog once wanted to see which +could jump highest, and invited the whole +world “and everybody else besides who chose +to come,” to see the performance. The king +promised to give his daughter to the one +who jumped the highest, for it was stale fun +when there was no prize to jump for. The +flea and the grasshopper came forward in +turn and put in their claims; the leap-frog +also appeared, but was silent. The flea +jumped so high that nobody could see where +he went to, so they all asserted that he had +not jumped at all; the grasshopper jumped +in the king’s face, and was set down as an +ill-mannered thing; the leap-frog, after reflection, +leaped into the lap of the princess, and +thereupon the king said, “There is nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> +above my daughter; therefore to bound up +to her is the highest jump that can be made: +but for this, one must possess understanding, +and the leap-frog has shown that he has understanding. +He is brave and intellectual.” +“And so,” the story declares, “he won the +princess.” The barren absurdity of a leap-frog +marrying a princess is perhaps the first +thing that strikes the impartial reader of +this abstract, and there is very likely something +offensive to him in the notion; but in +the story itself this absurdity is so delightfully +veiled by the succession of happy turns +in the characterization of the three jumpers, +as well as of the old king, the house-dog, and +the old councilor “who had had three orders +given him to make him hold his tongue,” +that the final impression upon the mind is +that of a harmonizing of all the characters, +and the king, princess, and councilor can +scarcely be distinguished in kind from the +flea, grasshopper, leap-frog, and house-dog. +After that, the marriage of the leap-frog and +princess is quite a matter of course.</p> + +<p>The use of speaking animals in story was +no discovery of Andersen’s, and yet in the +distinction between his wonder-story and the +well-known fable lies an explanation of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> +charm which attaches to his work. The end +of every fable is <i>hæc fabula docet</i>, and it +was for this palpable end that the fable was +created. The lion, the fox, the mouse, the +dog, are in a very limited way true to the +accepted nature of the animals which they +represent, and their intercourse with each +other is governed by the ordinary rules of +animal life, but the actions and words are +distinctly illustrative of some morality. The +fable is an animated proverb. The animals +are made to act and speak in accordance +with some intended lesson, and have this for +the reason of their being. The lesson is +first; the characters, created afterward, are, +for purposes of the teacher, disguised as animals; +very little of the animal appears, but +very much of the lesson. The art which +invented the fable was a modest handmaid +to morality. In Andersen’s stories, however, +the spring is not in the didactic but in +the imaginative. He sees the beetle in the +imperial stable stretching out his thin legs +to be shod with golden shoes like the emperor’s +favorite horse, and the personality of +the beetle determines the movement of the +story throughout; egotism, pride at being +proud, jealousy, and unbounded self-conceit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> +are the furniture of this beetle’s soul, and +his adventures one by one disclose his character. +Is there a lesson in all this? Precisely +as there is a lesson in any picture of +human life where the same traits are +sketched. The beetle, after all his adventures, +some of them ignominious but none +expelling his self-conceit, finds himself again +in the emperor’s stable, having solved the +problem why the emperor’s horse had golden +shoes. “They were given to the horse on +my account,” he says, and adds, “the world +is not so bad after all, but one must know +how to take things as they come.” There +is in this and other of Andersen’s stories a +singular shrewdness, as of a very keen observer +of life, singular because at first blush +the author seems to be a sentimentalist. +The satires, like The Emperor’s New +Clothes and The Swiftest Runners, mark +this characteristic of shrewd observation +very cleverly. Perhaps, after all, we are +stating most simply the distinction between +his story and the fable when we say that +humor is a prominent element in the one +and absent in the other; and to say that +there is humor is to say that there is real +life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span></p> + +<p>It is frequently said that Andersen’s +stories accomplish their purpose of amusing +children by being childish, yet it is impossible +for a mature person to read them without +detecting repeatedly the marks of experience. +There is a subtle undercurrent of +wisdom that has nothing to do with childishness, +and the child who is entertained returns +to the same story afterward to find a +deeper significance than it was possible for +him to apprehend at the first reading. The +forms and the incident are in consonance +with childish experience, but the spirit +which moves through the story comes from +a mind that has seen and felt the analogue +of the story in some broader or coarser +form. The story of The Ugly Duckling is +an inimitable presentation of Andersen’s +own tearful and finally triumphant life; yet +no child who reads the story has its sympathy +for a moment withdrawn from the +duckling and transferred to a human being. +Andersen’s nice sense of artistic limitations +saves him from making the older thought +obtrude itself upon the notice of children, +and his power of placing himself at the same +angle of vision with children is remarkably +shown in one instance, where, in Little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> +Klaus and Big Klaus, death is treated as a +mere incident in the story, a surprise but +not a terror.</p> + +<p>The naïveté which is so conspicuous an +element in Andersen’s stories was an expression +of his own singularly artless nature. +He was a child all his life; his was a condition +of almost arrested development. He +was obedient to the demands of his spiritual +nature, and these led him into a fresh field +of fancy and imagination. What separates +him and gives him a distinct place in literature +is, as I have said, that he was the first +child who had contributed to literature. His +very autobiography discloses at every turn +this controlling genius of childhood, and the +testimony of his friends confirms it.</p> + +<p>Now that Andersen has told his stories, +it seems an easy thing to do, and we have +plenty of stories written for children that +attempt the same thing, sometimes also with +moderate success; for Andersen’s discovery +was after all but the simple application to +literature of a faculty which has always been +exercised. The likeness that things inanimate +have to things animate is constantly +forced upon us; it remained for Andersen +to pursue the comparison further, and, letting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> +types loose from their antitypes, to give +them independent existence. The result has +been a surprise in literature and a genuine +addition to literary forms. It is possible to +follow in his steps, now that he has shown +us the way, but it is no less evident that the +success which he attained was due not merely +to his happy discovery of a latent property, +but to the nice feeling and strict obedience +to laws of art with which he made use of his +discovery. Andersen’s genius enabled him +to see the soul in a darning-needle, and he +perceived also the limitations of the life he +was to portray, so that while he was often +on the edge of absurdity he did not lose his +balance. Especially is it to be noted that +these stories, which we regard as giving an +opportunity for invention when the series of +old-fashioned fairy tales had been closed, +show clearly the coming in of that temper in +novel-writing which is eager to describe +things as they are. Within the narrow +limits of his miniature story, Andersen +moves us by the same impulse as the modern +novelist who depends for his material +upon what he has actually seen and heard, +and for his inspiration upon the power to +penetrate the heart of things; so that the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> +old fairy tale finds its successor in this new +realistic wonder-story, just as the old romance +gives place to the new novel. In both, +as in the corresponding development of poetry +and painting, is found a deeper sense of +life and a finer perception of the intrinsic +value of common forms.</p> + +<p>This, then, may be taken as the peculiar +contribution of Andersen: that he, appearing +at a time when childhood had been laid +open to view as a real and indestructible +part of human life, was the interpreter to +the world of that creative power which is +significant of childhood. The child spoke +through him, and disclosed some secrets of +life; childhood in men heard the speech, +and recognized it as an echo of their own +half-forgotten voices. The literature of this +kind which he produced has become a distinct +and new form. It already has its imitations, +and people are said to write in the +vein of Andersen. Such work, and Andersen’s +in particular, presents itself to us +under two aspects: as literature in which +conceptions of childhood are embodied, and +as literature which feeds and stimulates the +imagination of children. But this is precisely +the way in which a large body of current +literature must be regarded.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX<br> +<span class="smaller">IN AMERICAN LITERARY ART</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p>The conditions of life in the United +States have been most favorable to the +growth of a special literature for children, +but, with one or two notable exceptions, the +literature which is independent of special +audiences has had little to do with childhood +as a subject, and art has been singularly +silent. There is scarcely anything in Irving, +for example, which touches upon child life. +A sentence now and then in Emerson shows +an insight of youth, as when he speaks of the +unerring instinct with which a boy tells off +in his mind the characters of the company +in a room. Bryant has touched the subject +more nearly, but chiefly in a half-fantastic +way, in his Little People of the Snow and +Sella. Thoreau could hardly be expected +to concern himself with the young of the +human race when he had nearer neighbors +and their offspring. Lowell has answered +the appeal which the death of children makes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> +to the heart, but aside from his tender elegiac +verses has scarcely dwelt on childhood +either in prose or verse. Holmes, with his +boyishness of temper, has caught occasionally +at the ebullition of youthful spirits, as +in the humorous figure of young Benjamin +Franklin in the Autocrat, and in some of his +autobiographic sketches. His School-Boy, +also, adds another to those charming memories +of youth which have made Cowper, +Goldsmith, and Gray known to readers +who else would scarcely have been drawn +to them; for the one unfailing poetic theme +which finds a listener who has passed his +youth is the imaginative rendering of that +youth.</p> + +<p>Whittier, though his crystalline verse +flows through the memory of many children, +has contributed very little to the portrayal +of childhood. His portrait of the Barefoot +Boy and his tender recollection In School +Days are the only poems which deal directly +with the subject, and neither of them is +wholly objective. They are a mature man’s +reflection of childhood. Snow-Bound rests +upon the remembrance of boyish days, but +it deals rather with the circumstance of boyhood +than with the boy’s thoughts or feelings.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> +Yet the poet shows unmistakably his +sense of childhood, although one would not +be far wrong who understood him as never +separating the spirit of childhood from the +human life at any stage. His editorial work +in the two volumes, Child-Life in Poetry and +Child-Life in Prose, is an indication of his +interest in the subject, and he was quick to +catch the existence of the sentiment in its +association with another poet, whose name +is more directly connected with childhood. +In his verses, The Poet and the Children, +he gave expression to the thought which +occurred to many as they considered how +soon Longfellow’s death followed upon the +spontaneous celebration of his birthday by +multitudes of children.</p> + +<p>This testimony to Longfellow was scarcely +the result of what he had written either for +or of children. It was rather a natural +tribute to a poet who had made himself a +household word in American homes. Children +are brought up on poetry to a considerable +extent; they are, moreover, under +training for the most part by young women, +and the pure sentiment which forms the +unfailing element of Longfellow’s writings +finds in such teachers the readiest response.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> +When one comes to consider the subjects of +Longfellow’s poetry, one finds that the number +addressed to children, or finding their +motive in childhood, is not large. Those +of direct address are, To a Child, From +my Arm-Chair, Weariness, Children; yet +which of these demands or would receive a +response from children? Only one, From +my Arm-Chair, and that chiefly by the circumstance +which called it out, and on which +the poet relies for holding the direct attention +of children. He gets far away from +most children before he has reached the end +of his poem To a Child, and in the other +two poems we hear only the voice of a man +in whom the presence of children awakens +thoughts which lie too deep for their tears, +though not for his.</p> + +<p>Turning aside from those which appeal in +form to children, one finds several which, +like those last named, are evoked by the +sentiment which childhood suggests. Such +are The Reaper and the Flowers, Resignation, +The Children’s Hour, and A Shadow, +all in the minor key except The Children’s +Hour; and this poem, perfect as it is in a +father’s apprehension, yields only a subtle +and half-understood fragrance to a child.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span> +One poem partly rests on a man’s thought +of his own childhood, My Lost Youth; The +Hanging of the Crane contains for its best +lines a vignette of infancy; a narrative +poem, The Wreck of the Hesperus, has for +its chief figure a child; and Hiawatha is +bright with a sketch of Indian boyhood. +The translations show two or three which +include this subject.</p> + +<p>While, therefore, Longfellow is repeatedly +aware of the presence of children, it is not +by the poems which spring out of that recognition +that he especially reaches them. In +his poem From my Arm-Chair, he refers to +The Village Blacksmith; that has a single +verse in which children figure, but the whole +poem will arrest the attention of children +far more than From my Arm-Chair, and it +belongs to them more. It cannot be too +often repeated that books and poems about +children are not necessarily for children. +The thoughts which the man has of the +child often depend wholly upon the fact +that he has passed beyond childhood, and +looks back upon it; it is impossible for +the child to stand by his side. Thus the +poem Weariness contains the reflection of a +man who anticipates the after life of children;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> +there is nothing in it which belongs +to the reflection of childhood itself. Tennyson’s +May Queen, which has found its way +into most of our anthologies for the young, +is a notable example of a large class of +verses quite unfit for such a place. It may +be said in general that sentiment, when made +a part of childhood, is very sure to be morbid +and unnatural. We have a sentiment +which rises at the sight of childhood, but +children themselves have none of it; the +more refined it is, the more unfit it is to go +into their books.</p> + +<p>Here is a collection of poetry for children, +having all the marks of a sound and reputable +work. As I turn its leaves, I come upon +a long ballad of The Dying Child, Longfellow’s +The Reaper and the Flowers, a poem +called The Little Girl’s Lament, in which a +child asks, “Is heaven a long way off, mother?” +and for two or three pages dwells +upon a child’s pain at the loss of her father; +Tennyson’s May Queen, who is so unconscionably +long a time dying; Mrs. Hemans’s +imitation of Mignon’s song in a poem called +The Better Land; and a poem by Dora +Greenwell which I must regard as the most +admirable example of what a poem for a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> +child should not be. It is entitled A Story +by the Fire, and begins,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Children love to hear of children!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I will tell of a little child</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who dwelt alone with his mother</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By the edge of a forest wild.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">One summer eve, from the forest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Late, late, down the grassy track</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The child came back with lingering step,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And looks oft turning back.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“‘Oh, mother!’ he said, ‘in the forest</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I have met with a little child;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All day he played with me,—all day</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He talked with me and smiled.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At last he left me alone, but then</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He gave me this rosebud red;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And said he would come to me again</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When all its leaves were spread.’”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Thereupon the child declares that it will put +the rosebud in a glass, and wait eagerly for +the friend to come. So the night goes and +the morning comes, and the child sleeps.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The mother went to his little room.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With all its leaves outspread</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She saw a rose in fullest bloom;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And, in the little bed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A child that did not breathe nor stir,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A little, happy child,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who had met his little friend again,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And in the meeting smiled.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span></p> + +<p>Here is a fantastic conception, extremely +puzzling to a healthy-minded child. Imagine +the natural questions of a simple, +ingenuous boy or girl upon hearing this +read. Who is this other child? Why was +he coming back when the rose was blown? +You explain, as well as you are able, that it +was a phantom of death; or, if that seems +too pallid, you try to imagine that the poet +meant Jesus Christ or an angel by this other +little child: but, in whatever way you explain +it, you are obliged, if you will satisfy +the downright little inquirer, to say plainly, +This little boy died, and you begin to wish +with all your heart that the poet with all +her <i>ed</i> rhymes had added <i>dead</i>. Then the +puzzle begins over again to connect the +blooming rose and the little playmate with +death. Do you say that you will leave the +delicate suggestion of the lines to find its +way into the child’s mind, and be the interpreter +of the poem? This is what one +might plead in Wordsworth’s We are Seven, +for instance. The comparison suggested by +the two poems is a partial answer. Wordsworth’s +poem is a plain, objective narrative, +which a child might hear and enjoy with +scarcely a notion of what was implied in it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> +returning afterward to the deep, underlying +sense. This poem of Dora Greenwell’s has +no real objective character; the incident of +the walk in the forest is of the most shadowy +sort, and is used for its subtlety. I object +to subtlety in literature for children. We +have a right to demand that there shall be a +clear outward sense, whatever may be the +deeper meaning to older people. Hans Andersen’s +story of The Ugly Duckling is a +consummate example of a narrative which is +enjoyable by the most matter-of-fact child, +and yet recalls to the older reader a life’s +history.</p> + +<p>I have been led into a long digression +through the natural correlation which exists +between childhood in literature and a literature +for children. Let me get back to my +main topic by a similar path. The one author +in America whose works yield the most +fruitful examples in illustration of our subject +is Hawthorne, and at the same time he +is the most masterly of all our authors who +have aimed at writing for an audience of +children. Whatever may become of the +great mass of books for young people published +in America during the past fifty +years,—and most of it is already crumbling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> +in memory,—it requires no heroism to predict +an immortality of fame for the little +books which Hawthorne wrote with so much +good nature and evident pleasure, Grandfather’s +Chair and the Wonder Book, with its +companion, Tanglewood Tales. Mr. Parkman +has given a new reading in the minds +of many people to the troubles in Acadia, +but he has not disturbed the vitality of +Evangeline; one may add footnote after +footnote to modify or correct the statements +in The Courtship of Miles Standish, but the +poem will continue to be accepted as a picture +of Pilgrim times. So the researches of +antiquarians, with more material at their +command than Hawthorne enjoyed, may +lead them to different conclusions from those +which he reached in his sketches of early +New England history, but they cannot destroy +that charm in the rendering which +makes the book a classic.</p> + +<p>More notable still is Hawthorne’s version +of Greek myths. Probably he had no further +authority for the stories than Lemprière. +He only added the touch of his own +genius. Only! and the old rods blossomed +with a new variety of fruit and flower. It +is easily said that Hawthorne Yankeeized<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> +the stories, that he used the Greek stones +for constructing a Gothic building, but this +is academic criticism. He really succeeded +in naturalizing the Greek myths in American +soil, and all the labors of all the Coxes +will not succeed in supplanting them. Moreover, +I venture to think that Hawthorne’s +fame is more firmly fixed by means of the +Wonder Book. The presence of an audience +of children had a singular power over +him. I do not care for the embroidery of +actual child life which he has devised for +these tales; it is scarcely more than a +fashion, and already strikes one as quaint +and out of date. But I cannot read the +tales themselves without being aware that +Hawthorne was breathing one air when he +was writing them and another when he was +at work on his romances. He illustrates +in a delicate and subtle manner the line of +Juvenal which bids the old remember the +respect due to the young. Juvenal uses +it to shame men into decorum; but just as +any sensitive person will restrain himself +in expression before children, so Hawthorne +appears to have restrained his thought in +their silent presence,—to have done this, +and also to have admitted into it the sunshine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> +which their presence brought. With +what bright and joyous playfulness he repeats +the old stories, and with what a paternal +air he makes the tales yield their morsels +of wisdom! There is no opening of +dark passages, no peering into recesses, but +a happy, generous spirit reigns throughout.</p> + +<p>All this could have been predicated from +the delightful glimpses which we now have +of Hawthorne’s relations to his children, +glimpses which his Note-Books, indeed, had +already afforded, and which were not wanting +also in his finished work. Nor was +this interest in childhood something which +sprang up after he had children of his own. +In that lonely period of his young manhood, +when he held converse only with himself, +his Note-Books attest how his observation +took in the young and his fancy played +about them. As early as 1836 he makes a +note: “To picture a child’s (one of four or +five years old) reminiscences at sunset of a +long summer’s day,—his first awakening, +his studies, his sports, his little fits of passion, +perhaps a whipping, etc.” Again, how +delicate is the hint conveyed in a passage +describing one of his solitary walks! “Another +time I came suddenly on a small Canadian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> +boy, who was in a hollow place among +the ruined logs of an old causeway, picking +raspberries,—lonely among bushes and +gorges, far up the wild valley; and the lonelier +seemed the little boy for the bright sunshine, +that showed no one else in a wide +space of view except him and me.” He has +elsewhere a quick picture of a boy running +at full speed; a wistful look at a sleeping +infant, which somehow touches one almost +as if one had seen a sketch for a Madonna; +and then this passage, significant of the +working of his mind,—he is noting a Mediterranean +boy from Malaga whom he saw on +the wharf: “I must remember this little +boy, and perhaps I may make something +more beautiful of him than these rough and +imperfect touches would promise.”</p> + +<p>The relation which Hawthorne held to his +own children, as illustrated both in the memoirs +of him and in his Note-Books, was unquestionably +a sign of that profound humanity +which was the deep spring of his writings. +But it was not, as some seem to think, +a selfish love which he bore for them; he +could show to them, because the relation +was one of the elemental things in nature, +a fullness of feeling which found expression<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> +otherwise only as all his nature found outlet,—in +spiritual communion with mankind. +How deep this inherent love of childhood +lay is instanced in that passage in Our Old +Home which one reads as it were with uncovered +head. It is in the chapter entitled +Some Glimpses of English Poverty, and relates +how one of the party visiting an almshouse—Hawthorne +himself, as his wife has +since told us—was unexpectedly and most +unwillingly made the object of demonstrative +attention on the part of a poor, scrofulous, +repulsive waif of humanity. Nothing +that he had done had attracted the child,—only +what he was; and so, moved by compassion, +this strange, shy man took the child +in his arms and kissed it. Let any one +read the entire passage, note the mingled +emotions which play about the scene like a +bit of iridescent glass, and dare to speak of +Hawthorne again except with reverence.</p> + +<p>In the same chapter occurs that delicious +little description of children playing in the +street, where the watchfulness of the older +children over the younger is noted, and a +small brother, who is hovering about his +sister, is gravely noted as “working a kind +of miracle to transport her from one dust<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> +heap to another.” He makes the reflection, +“Beholding such works of love and duty, +I took heart again, and deemed it not so +impossible after all for these neglected children +to find a path through the squalor and +evil of their circumstances up to the gate of +heaven.”</p> + +<p>One of the earliest and most ambitious +of his short tales, The Gentle Boy, gathers +into itself the whole history of a pathetic +childhood, and there seems to have been an +intention to produce in Ilbrahim precisely +those features which mark the childish martyr +and confessor. Again, among the Twice-Told +Tales is the winning sketch of Little +Annie’s Ramble, valuable most of all for its +unconscious testimony to the abiding sense +of companionship which Hawthorne found +with children. In Edward Fane’s Rosebud, +also, is a passage referring to the death of +a child, which is the only approach to the +morbid in connection with childhood that +I recall in Hawthorne. Little Daffydowndilly, +a quaint apologue, has by virtue of +its unquestionable fitness found its way into +all reading-books for the young.</p> + +<p>The story, however, which all would select +as most expressive of Hawthorne’s sympathy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> +with childhood is The Snow Image. In +that the half-conventional figures which +served to introduce the stories in the Wonder +Book have passed, by a very slight +transformation, into quaint impersonations. +They have the outward likeness of boys and +girls, but, by the alchemy which Hawthorne +used chiefly upon men and women, they are +made to have ingenuous and artless converse +with a being of other than flesh and blood. +It is the charm of this exquisite tale that +the children create the object in which they +believe so implicitly. Would it be straining +a point too far to say that as Andersen +managed, whether consciously or not, to +write his own spiritual biography in his tale +of The Ugly Duckling, so Hawthorne in The +Snow Image saw himself as in a glass? At +any rate, we can ourselves see him reflected +in those childish figures, absorbed in the +creation out of the cold snow of a sprite +which cannot without peril come too near +the warm life of the common world, regarded +with half-pitying love and belief by one, +good-naturedly scorned by crasser man.</p> + +<p>In his romances children play no unimportant +part. It is Ned Higgins’s cent which +does the mischief with Hepzibah, in The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> +House of the Seven Gables, transforming +her from a shrinking gentlewoman into an +ignoble shopkeeper; and thus it becomes +only right and proper that Ned Higgins’s +portrait should be drawn at full length with +a gravity and seriousness which would not +be wasted on a grown man like Dixey. In +The Scarlet Letter one might almost call +Pearl the central figure. Certainly, as she +flashes in and out of the sombre shadows, +she contrives to touch with light one character +after another, revealing, interpreting, +compelling. In the deeper lines one reads +how this child concentrates in herself the +dread consequences of sin. The Puritan, +uttering the wrath of God descending from +the fathers to the children, never spoke in +more searching accents than Hawthorne in +the person of Pearl. “The child,” he says, +“could not be made amenable to rules. In +giving her existence a great law had been +broken; and the result was a being whose +elements were perhaps beautiful and brilliant, +but all in disorder.” When one stops +to think of The Scarlet Letter without +Pearl, he discovers suddenly how vital the +child is to the story. The scene in the +woods, that moving passage where Pearl<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> +compels her mother to replace the scarlet A, +and all the capricious behavior toward the +minister show how much value Hawthorne +placed on this figure in his drama: and +when the climax is reached, and Hester, Arthur, +and Pearl stand together on the scaffold, +the supreme moment may fairly be said +to be that commemorated in the words, +“Pearl kissed his lips.”</p> + +<p>It is noteworthy, also, that when Hawthorne +was struggling with fate, and, with +the consciousness of death stealing over him, +made ineffectual efforts to embody his profoundest +thoughts of life and immortality, +he should have expended his chief art in +loving characterization of Pansie, in the +Dolliver Romance. Whatever might have +come of this last effort, could fate have been +conquered, I for one am profoundly grateful +that the two figures of grandsire and +grandchild stand thus fully wrought, to +guard the gateway of Hawthorne’s passage +out of life.</p> + +<p class="tb">The advent of the child in literature at +the close of the last century was characterized, +as I have pointed out, by a recognition +of personality in childhood as distinct from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> +relationship. The child as one of the family +had always been recognized, and the child +also in its more elemental nature; it was the +child as possessed of consciousness, as isolated, +as disclosing a nature capable of independent +action, thought, and feeling, that +now came forward into the world’s view, +and was added to the stock of the world’s +literature, philosophy, and art.</p> + +<p>“The real virtues of one age,” says Mozley, +“become the spurious ones of the next,” +and it is hardly strange that the abnormal +development of this treatment of childhood +should be most apparent in the United +States, where individualism has had freest +play. The discovery appears to have been +made here that the child is not merely a person, +but a very free and independent person +indeed. The sixteenth amendment to the +constitution reads, “The rights and caprices +of children in the United States shall not be +denied or abridged on account of age, sex, +or formal condition of tutelage,” and this +amendment has been recognized in literature, +as in life, while waiting its legal adoption. +It has been recognized by the silence +of great literature, or by the kind of mention +which it has there received. I am speaking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> +of the literature which is now current rather +than of that which we agree to regard as standard +American literature; yet even in that I +think our study shows the sign of what was +to be. The only picture of childhood in the +poets drawn from real life is that of the +country boy, while all the other references +are to an ideal conception. Hawthorne, in +his isolation, wrote of a world which was +reconstructed out of elemental material, and +his insight as well as his marvelous sympathy +with childhood precluded him from using +diseased forms. But since the day of these +men, the literature which is most representative +of national life has been singularly +devoid of reference to childhood. One +notable exception emphasizes this silence. +Our keenest social satirist has not spared +the children. They are found in company +with the young American girl, and we feel +the sting of the lash which falls upon them.</p> + +<p>Again the silence of art is noticeable. +There was so little art contemporaneous with +our greater literature, and the best of that +was so closely confined to landscape, that it +is all the more observable how meagre is the +show in our picture galleries of any history +of childhood. Now and then a portrait<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> +appears, the child usually of the artist’s +patron, but there is little sign that artists +seek in the life of children for subjects upon +which to expend thought and power. They +are not drawn to them, apparently, except +when they appear in some foreign guise as +beggars, where the picturesqueness of attire +offers the chief motive.</p> + +<p>In illustration of this, I may be pardoned +if I mention my own experience when conducting, +a few years ago, an illustrated magazine +for young people. I did my best to +obtain pictures of child life from painters +who were not merely professional book-illustrators, +and the only two that I succeeded +in securing were one by Mr. Lambdin, and +Mr. La Farge’s design accompanying Browning’s +poem of The Pied Piper. On the +lower ground of illustrations of text, it was +only now and then that I was able to obtain +any simple, unaffected design, showing an +understanding of a child’s figure and face. +It was commonly a young woman who was +most successful, and what her work gained +in genuineness it was apt to lose in correctness +of drawing.</p> + +<p>I shall be told that matters have improved +since then, and shall be pointed to the current<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> +magazines of the same grade as the +Riverside. I am quite willing to concede +that the demand for work of this kind has +had the effect of stimulating designers, but +I maintain that the best illustrations in +these magazines are not those which directly +represent children. And when I say children, +I mean those in whom consciousness +is developed, not infants and toddlers, who +are often represented with as much cleverness +as other small animals and pets. It is +more to the point that, while the introduction +of processes and the substitution of +photography for direct drawing on the wood +have greatly enlarged the field from which +wood-cuts may be drawn, there is little, if +any, increase in the number of strong designs +illustrative of childhood. Formerly +the painter was deterred from contributing +designs by the slight mechanical difficulties +of drawing on boxwood. Unless he was in +the way of such work, he disliked laying his +brush down and taking up the pencil. Now +everything is done for him, and his painting +is translated by the engraver without the +necessity of any help from him. Yet how +rarely, with the magazines at hand to use +his paintings, does the painter voluntarily +seek such subjects!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span></p> + +<p>But if there is silence or scorn in great +literature, there is plenty of expression in +that minor literature which has sprung up, +apparently, in the interest of childhood. It +is here, in the books for young people, that +one may discover the most flagrant illustration +of that spurious individuality in childhood +which I have maintained to be conspicuous +in our country. Any one who has +been compelled to make the acquaintance of +this literature must have observed how very +little parents and guardians figure in it, and +how completely children are separated from +their elders. The most popular books for +the young are those which represent boys +and girls as seeking their fortune, working +out their own schemes, driving railway +trains and steamboats it may be, managing +farms, or engaged in adventures which elicit +all their uncommon heroism. The same +tendency is exhibited in less exaggerated +form: children in the schoolroom, or at +play, forming clubs amongst themselves, +having their own views upon all conceivable +subjects, torturing the English language +without rebuke, opening correspondence +with newspapers and magazines, starting +newspapers and magazines of their own,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> +organizing, setting up miniature society,—this +is the general spectacle to be observed +in books for young people, and the parent +or two, now and then visible, is as much in +the background as the child was in earlier +literature.</p> + +<p>All this is more or less a reflection of +actual life, and as such has an unconscious +value. I would not press its significance +too far, but I think it points to a serious defect +in our society life. This very ephemeral +literature is symptomatic of a condition +of things, rather than causative. It has +not nearly so much influence on young life +as it is itself the natural concomitant of a +maladjustment of society, and the corrective +will be found only as a healthier social +condition is reached. The disintegration of +the family, through a feeble sense of the +sacredness of marriage, is an evil which is +not to be remedied by any specific of law or +literature, but so long as it goes on it inevitably +affects literature.</p> + +<p>I venture to make two modest suggestions +toward the solution of these larger problems +into the discussion of which our subject has +led me. One is for those who are busy with +the production of books for young people.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> +Consider if it be not possible to report the +activity and comradery of the young in +closer and more generous association with +the life of their elders. The spectacle of a +healthy family life, in which children move +freely and joyously, is not so rare as to make +models hard to be found, and one would do +a great service to young America who should +bring back the wise mother and father into +juvenile literature.</p> + +<p>Again, next to a purified and enriched +literature of this sort is a thorough subordination +of it. The separation of a class of +books for the use of the young specifically is +not now to be avoided, but in the thoughtlessness +with which it has been accepted as +the only literature for the young a great +wrong has been inflicted. The lean cattle +have devoured the fat. I have great faith +in the power of noble literature when +brought into simple contact with the child’s +mind, always assuming that it is the literature +which deals with elemental feeling, +thought, and action which is so presented. +I think the solution of the problem which +vexes us will be found not so much in the +writing of good books for children as in the +wise choice of those parts of the world’s literature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> +which contain an appeal to the +child’s nature and understanding. It is not +the books written expressly for children so +much as it is the books written out of minds +which have not lost their childhood that are +to form the body of literature which shall +be classic for the young. As Mr. Ruskin +rightly says, “The greatest books contain +food for all ages, and an intelligent and +rightly bred youth or girl ought to enjoy +much even in Plato by the time they are fifteen +or sixteen.”</p> + +<p>It may fairly be asked how we shall persuade +children to read classic literature. It +is a partial answer to say, Read it to them +yourself. If we would only consider the subtle +strengthening of ties which comes from +two people reading the same book together, +breathing at once its breath, and each giving +the other unconsciously his interpretation of +it, it would be seen how in this simple habit +of reading aloud lies a power too fine for +analysis, yet stronger than iron in welding +souls together. To my thinking there is no +academy on earth equal to that found in +many homes of a mother reading to her +child.</p> + +<p>There is, however, a vast organization inclusive<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> +of childhood to which we may justly +commit the task of familiarizing children +with great literature, and of giving them a +distaste for ignoble books. There is no +other time of life than that embraced by the +common-school course so fit for introduction +to the highest, finest literature of the world. +Our schools are too much given over to the +acquisition of knowledge. What they need +is to recognize the power which lies in enlightenment. +In the susceptible period of +youth we must introduce through the medium +of literature the light which will give +the eye the precious power of seeing. But +look at the apparatus now in use. Look at +the reading-books which are given to children +in the mechanical system of grading. +Is this feast of scraps really the best we can +offer for the intellectual and spiritual nourishment +of the young? What do these books +teach the child of reading? They supply +him with the power to read print at sight, +to pronounce accurately the several words +that meet the eye, and to know the time +value of the several marks of punctuation; +but they no more make readers of children +than an accordeon supplies one with the +power to appreciate and enjoy a sonata of +Beethoven.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span></p> + +<p>I do not object to intelligent drill, but I +maintain that in our schools it bears little +or no relation to the actual use of the power +of reading. The best of the education of +children is not their ability to take up the +daily newspaper or the monthly magazine +after they leave school, but their interest in +good literature and their power to read it +with apprehension if not comprehension. +This can be taught in school. Not only so, +it ought to be taught, for unless the child’s +mind is plainly set in this direction, it is +very unlikely that he will find the way for +himself. I look, therefore, with the greatest +interest upon that movement in our public +schools which tends to bring the great literature +before children.</p> + +<p class="tb">The study of childhood in literature has +led insensibly to observations on literature +for children. The two subjects are not far +apart, for both testify to the same fact, that +in the growth of human life there has been +an irregular but positive advance, and a +profounder perception of the rights and duties +involved in personality.</p> + +<p>What may lie in the future I will not venture +to predict, but it is quite safe to say<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> +that the form in which childhood is presented +will still depend upon the sympathy of imaginative +writers with the ideal of childhood, +and that the form of literature for children +will be determined by the greater or less care +with which society guards the sanctity of +childish life.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</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> Chapman’s <i>The Iliads of Homer</i>, ii. 70-77.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> <i>Iliads</i>, iv. 147-151.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> <i>Iliads</i>, xvi. 5-8.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> <i>Ibid.</i> xi. 485-490.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> <i>Iliad</i>, vi. 466-475, 482-485.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> Goldwin Smith’s translation.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> John Addington Symonds’s translation.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> <i>Laws</i>, ii. 653. In this and subsequent passages Jowett’s +translation is used.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> <i>Laws</i>, vii. 797.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> <i>Laws</i>, ii. 664.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> <i>Epigrammata Despota</i>, DCCXI.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> D’Arcy W. Thompson, in his <i>Ancient Leaves</i>.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Theodore Martin’s translation.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> <i>Silvæ</i>, v. 5, 79-87.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Contributors’ Club, <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, June, 1881.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> <i>De Rerum Natura</i>, V. 222-227, cited in Sellar’s <i>The +Roman Poets of the Republic</i>, p. 396.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> <i>Ibid.</i> III. 894-896. Sellar, p. 364.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> <i>Satire</i> xiv. 47.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> A thoughtful writer in <i>The Spectator</i>, 3 September, +1887, notes the absence of representations of childhood +in ancient art and literature, and the following number +of the journal contains a note of protest from Mr. Alfred +Austin, in which he says pertinently: “Is it not the foible +of modern art, if I may use a homely expression, to +make a fuss over what it feels, or wants others to feel, +whereas an older and a nobler art, which is by no means +extinct among us, prefers to indicate emotion rather than +to dwell on it?”</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> See an interesting statement of this Biblical force in +the preface to Matthew Arnold’s <i>The Great Prophecy of +Israel’s Restoration</i>, London, 1872.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> <i>Hosea</i> iv. 6.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> <i>Zech.</i> x. 9.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> <i>Zech.</i> viii. 4. 5.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> <i>Isa.</i> xi. 6-8.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> <i>Malachi</i> iv. 6.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> This and the other passages from the Apocryphal +Gospels here cited are in the translation by Alexander +Walker.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> Canto xxxii. 7-9, Cayley’s translation.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> C. E. Norton’s translation.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> <i>Studies in the History of the Renaissance</i>, p. 84.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> <i>Sketches of the History of Christian Art</i>, iii. 270.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> <i>Legends of the Madonna</i>, Part III.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> On Reading Shakespeare Through. <i>The</i> [London] +<i>Spectator</i>, August 26, 1882.</p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> <i>Epicurus, Leontion, and Ternissa.</i></p> + +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> <i>Essays, Historical and Theological.</i> By J. B. Mozley, +i. 430, 431.</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX.</h2> + +</div> + +<ul> + +<li class="ifrst">Admetus, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Æneas, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Æneid</i>, childhood in the, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Agamemnon, belief in, not dependent on the spade, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Alice Fell</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Alkestis</i>, a scene from the, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Amelia</i>, Fielding’s, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Amor, the myth of, <a href="#Page_36">36-38</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">as treated by Raphael, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the Elizabethan lullabies, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Thorwaldsen’s art, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Anchises, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Ancient Leaves</i>, cited, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Andersen, Hans Christian, the unique contribution of, to literature, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the distinction between his stories and fairy tales, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the basis of his fame, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the life of his creations, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">their relation to human beings, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the spring in his stories, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his satires, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the deeper experience in them, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his essential childishness, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his place with novelists, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his interpretation of childhood, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Andromache, the parting of, with Hector, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the scene compared with one in the <i>Œdipus Tyrannus</i>, <a href="#Page_16">16-18</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">and contrasted with Virgil, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Angels of children, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Anna the prophetess, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Anthology, the Greek, <a href="#Page_28">28-30</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Antigone, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Apocryphal Gospels, the legends of the, <a href="#Page_57">57-64</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Art, American, as it relates to children, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Art, modern, the foible of, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Arthur, in <i>King John</i>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Ascanius, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Askbert, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Astyanax, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">a miniature Hector, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Atlantic Monthly, The</i>, cited, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Austin, Alfred, cited, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Ballads relating to children, <a href="#Page_106">106-108</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">characteristics of, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Barbauld, Mrs., <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">her relation to the literature of childhood, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">Coleridge and Lamb on, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Bathsheba’s child, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Beatrice, first seen by Dante, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Better Land, The</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Bible, the truth of the, not dependent on external witness, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the university to many in modern times, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Blake, William, <a href="#Page_163">163-165</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Boccaccio, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Browning, Robert, as an interpreter of Greek life, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Pied Piper</i>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Bryant, William Cullen, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Bunyan, childhood in, <a href="#Page_129">129-133</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Byzantine type of the Madonna, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Catullus, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Chapman’s translation of Homer, quoted, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the quality of his defects, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Chaucer’s treatment of childhood, <a href="#Page_108">108-111</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with the Madonna in art, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Childhood, discovered at the close of the last century, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in literature as related to literature for children, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span>in Greek life, how attested, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">indirect reference to it in Homer, <a href="#Page_8">8-11</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the direct reference, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the Greek tragedians, <a href="#Page_16">16-21</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Plato, <a href="#Page_22">22-26</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the Greek Anthology, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Virgil, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">conception of, in Roman literature, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Catullus, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in epitaphs, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Lucretius, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Juvenal, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in classic conception of the supernatural, <a href="#Page_34">34-36</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the myth of Amor, <a href="#Page_36">36-38</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Old Testament literature, <a href="#Page_42">42-46</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in New Testament literature, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">attitude of the Saviour toward, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">as a sign of history, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the legends of the Apocryphal Gospels, <a href="#Page_57">57-64</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">of saints, <a href="#Page_65">65-71</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">under the forming power of Christianity, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Dante, <a href="#Page_75">75-78</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the representations of the Holy Family, <a href="#Page_83">83-87</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the art of the northern peoples, <a href="#Page_87">87-92</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the Madonnas of Raphael, <a href="#Page_92">92-98</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Raphael’s Amor, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in his representations of children generally, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the art of Luca della Robbia, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its elemental force the same in all literatures, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in ballad literature, <a href="#Page_106">106-108</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Chaucer, <a href="#Page_108">108-111</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its character in early English literature, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Spenser, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the lighter strains of Elizabethan literature, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_117">117-126</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its absence in Milton, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">how regarded in Puritanism, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Bunyan, <a href="#Page_129">129-133</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Pope, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Fielding, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Gray, <a href="#Page_135">135-137</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Goldsmith, <a href="#Page_137">137-140</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Cowper, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the art of Reynolds and Gainsborough, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_144">144-157</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in De Quincey, <a href="#Page_158">158-162</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in William Blake, <a href="#Page_163">163-165</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Dickens, <a href="#Page_165">165-170</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in <i>Paul and Virginia</i>, <a href="#Page_181">181-183</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Lamartine, <a href="#Page_184">184-186</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Michelet de Musset, and Victor Hugo, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in German sentiment, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">illustrated by Luther, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Richter, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Goethe, <a href="#Page_194">194-196</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Froebel’s system, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Overbeck’s art, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Hans Christian Andersen, <a href="#Page_201">201-216</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Emerson, Bryant, Lowell, and Holmes, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Whittier, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Longfellow, <a href="#Page_219">219-222</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">mistakenly presented in sentimental verse, <a href="#Page_222">222-225</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in Hawthorne, <a href="#Page_225">225-234</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Child-Life in Poetry</i>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Child-Life in Prose</i>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Children, books for, the beginning of, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the characteristics of this beginning, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">their revolutionary character, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the sincerity of the early books, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the union of the didactic and artistic in, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">a new branch of literature, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">art in connection with, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Children’s Hour, The</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Child’s Last Will, The</i>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Christ, the childhood of, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his scenes with children, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his attitude toward childhood, <a href="#Page_49">49-52</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">an efficient cause of the imagination, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">legends of, in the Apocryphal Gospels, <a href="#Page_57">57-64</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his symbolic use of the child, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his infancy the subject of art, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">especially in Netherlands, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his words illustrative of human history, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Christianity and French sentiment, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Christianity, living and structural, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its supersedure of ancient life, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its germinal truth, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its operative imagination, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its care of children, especially orphans, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its office of organization, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its influence on the family, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its insistence on death, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in what its power consists, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its ideals, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its type in the Madonna, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">does not interfere with elemental facts, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Christmas in Germany, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Cimabue, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span>Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, on Mrs. Barbauld, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">on Christmas in Germany, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Comus</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Confidences, Les</i>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Coriolanus</i>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Cornelius, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Courtship of Miles Standish, The</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Cowper, William, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Cruel Mother, The</i>, ballad of, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Cupid and Psyche, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Danaë</i>, the, of Euripides, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">of Simonides, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Dante, childhood in, <a href="#Page_75">75-78</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Day, Thomas, author of <i>Sanford and Merton</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Death of children, how regarded by Dickens, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">by Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Democracy revealed in the French Revolution, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">De Quincey, Thomas, reflections of, on his childhood, <a href="#Page_158">158-162</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Deserted Village, The</i>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Dickens, Charles, his naturalization of the poor in literature, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his report of childhood, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the children created by, <a href="#Page_166">166-170</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Distant Prospect of Eton College, On a</i>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Dolliver Romance, The</i>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Doyle, Richard, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Drama, children in, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Dying Child, The</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Edgeworth, Maria, and Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Edward Fane’s Rosebud</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Elegy</i>, Gray’s, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Elijah, the prophet, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the incident of the boys and, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Elisha, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Elizabethan era, characteristics of, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Emerson, Ralph Waldo, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">English race, characteristics of the, exemplified in literature, <a href="#Page_111">111-113</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Eros, the myth of, <a href="#Page_36">36-38</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Erotion, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Essay on Man, The</i>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Euripides, in his view of children, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">examples from, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Evangeline</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Excursion, The</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Fables, Andersen’s stories distinguished from, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Faery Queen, The</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Fairy-tales, Andersen’s stories distinguished from, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the origin of, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">fading out from modern literature, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">upon the stage, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the scientific fairy-tale, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Fénelon, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Fielding, Henry, in his <i>Amelia</i>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Fitzgerald, Edward, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Flaxman, John, his illustration of Homer in outline, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">French literature as regards childhood, <a href="#Page_180">180-188</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">French Revolution, the, a sign of regeneration, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">a day of judgment, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the name for an epoch, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">synchronous with a revelation of childhood, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its connection with English literature, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the eruption of poverty in, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Froebel’s kindergarten system, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>From my Arm Chair</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Gainsborough, Thomas, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Gascoigne, George, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Gentle Boy, The</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Germanic peoples, home-cultivating, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">German literature and childhood, <a href="#Page_188">188-198</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Giotto, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Goethe, compared with Richter as regards memory of childhood, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his Mignon, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his indebtedness to the <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Sorrows of Werther</i>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Luther, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Goldsmith, Oliver, <i>avant-courier</i> of Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the precursor of the poets of childhood, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his position in literature, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>, <a href="#Page_138">138-140</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Goody Two Shoes</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Grandfather’s Chair</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span>Gray, Thomas, <a href="#Page_135">135-137</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Gray, Thomas, borrowing possibly from Martial, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Greece, life in ancient, how illustrated, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">silence of the child in the art of, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">our relation to, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">modern interpretations of, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Rome, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Judæa, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Greenaway, Kate, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Greene, Robert, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Greenwell, Dora, her poem, <i>A Story by the Fire</i>, an example of pernicious literature, <a href="#Page_222">222-225</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Grimm, the brothers, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Hannah, the song of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hawthorne, Nathaniel, the most abundant of American authors in his treatment of childhood, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his use of New England history, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his rendering of Greek myths, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his observation of childhood, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his relation to children, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his apologue in <i>The Snow-Image</i>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">children in his romances, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his Pearl in <i>The Scarlet Letter</i>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his Pansie in <i>The Dolliver Romance</i>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hebrew life, in its influence on modern thought, <a href="#Page_39">39-41</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the child in, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its transformation into Christianity, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hector parting with Andromache, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">face to face with Ajax, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">comforts his wife, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hemans, Felicia, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hen and chickens, in the Bible and Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Herakles, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hermes, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Hiawatha</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hilarion, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Holmes, Oliver Wendell, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Holy Family, the child in the, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">character of the early type of the, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">emblematic of domesticity, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Homer, authenticity of the legend of, supposed to be proved by Schliemann, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">a better preserver of Greek womanhood than antiquaries, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the value of his similes, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">passages in illustration of his indirect reference to childhood, <a href="#Page_8">8-11</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the elemental character of, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the peril of commenting on, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the nurse in, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his view of childhood, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with that of the tragedians, <a href="#Page_16">16-18</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">with that of Virgil, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hosea, quoted, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>House of the Seven Gables, The</i>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hubert, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hugh of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Hugo, Victor, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Iliad</i>, the swarm of bees in the, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the passage describing the brushing away of a fly, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the ass belabored by a pack of boys, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">Achilles chiding Patroclos, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">Hector parting with Andromache, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">statuesque scenes in, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Imaginary Conversations</i>, quoted, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Imagination, the, abnormal activity of, in early Christianity, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the direction of its new force, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Intimations of Immortality</i>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Irving, Washington, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Isaiah, quoted, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Ishmael, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Ismene, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Jacob, the two wives of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">James, Henry, alluded to, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Jeffrey, Francis, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Jerusalem, the entry into, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">John the Baptist, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Jonson, Ben, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Jonson, Ben, <i>Venus’ Runaway</i> of, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Jowett, Benjamin, translation by, <a href="#Page_22">22-26</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Juvenal, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Kenwulf of Wessex, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Kindergarten, the, fortified by reference to Plato, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span>in connection with politics, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>King John</i>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Kriss Kringle, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">La Farge, John, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>L’Allegro</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Lamartine, Alphonse de, <a href="#Page_184">184-186</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Lamb, Charles, on Mrs. Barbauld’s work, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his and his sister’s books, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Lambdin, George C., <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Lamkin</i>, the ballad of, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Landor, Walter Savage, remark of, on children, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Laokoön, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Laws</i>, Plato’s, cited, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Legends of the Madonna</i>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Leslie, C. R., on Raphael’s children, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Lindsay, Lord, quoted, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Lines on the Receipt of my Mother’s Picture</i>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Literature for children in the United States, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">some of its tendencies, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">measures for its enrichment, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Literature, the source of knowledge, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">of Christendom, the exposition of the conception of the Christ, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">inaction in, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">fallacy in the study of the development of, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">its bounds enlarged, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Little Annie’s Ramble</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Little Daffydowndilly</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Little Girl’s Lament, The</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Little People of the Snow</i>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, childhood in the writings of, <a href="#Page_219">219-221</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Love, the figure of, in classic and modern art, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Lowell, James Russell, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Loyola, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Luca della Robbia, the children of, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Lucretius, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Lucy Gray</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Luther, Martin, an exponent of German character, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his treatment of childhood, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Madonna, development of the, <a href="#Page_84">84-87</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">treatment of by Raphael, <a href="#Page_92">92-98</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">a domestic subject, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Magnificat, The</i>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Man of Law’s Tale, The</i>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Marcius, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Martial, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Martin, Theodore, translation by, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Mary, the Virgin, legends concerning, in the Apocryphal Gospels, <a href="#Page_58">58-60</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">her childhood, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">her appearance in early art, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">her motherhood, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">her relation to Jesus, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>May Queen, The</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Medea, The</i>, cited, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Menaphon</i>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Mercurius, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Messiah</i>, Pope’s, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Michelet, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Millais, John Everett, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Milton, John, quoted, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the absence of childhood in, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Bunyan, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">with Pope, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Moses, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Moth, Shakespeare’s, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Mozley, T. B., quoted, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Musset, Alfred de, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>My Lost Youth</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Netherland family life, pictured in the life of our Lord, <a href="#Page_89">89-92</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">New Testament, childhood in the, <a href="#Page_47">47-52</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Nicodemus, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Niebuhr, B. G., <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Norton, Charles Eliot, translation by, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Note-Books</i>, Hawthorne’s, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Nurse, the, in Greek life, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the <i>Odyssey</i>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Odysseus and his nurse, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Odyssey</i>, memorable incidents in the, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Œdipus Tyrannus</i> contrasted with the <i>Iliad</i>, <a href="#Page_16">16-18</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span>Old Testament, childhood in the, <a href="#Page_42">42-46</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Our Old Home</i>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Overbeck, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199-201</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Palmer, George Herbert, as a translator of Homer, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Parkman, Francis, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Pater, Walter, quoted, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Patient Griselda, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Paul and Virginia</i>, representative of innocent childhood, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">an escape from the world, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">an attempt at the preservation of childhood, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Pet Lamb, The</i>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Pheidias, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Pied Piper, The</i>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Pilgrim’s Progress, The</i>, <a href="#Page_130">130-133</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Plato, references of, to childhood, <a href="#Page_22">22-26</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with artists, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">can be read by children, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Pope, Alexander, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Milton, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">with Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Prelude, The</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Princess, The</i>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Puritanism, the attitude of, toward childhood, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Queen’s Marie</i>, the ballad of the, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Raphael, an exponent of the idea of his time, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the Madonnas of, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">in the Berlin Museum, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">Casa Connestabile, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">del Cardellino, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">at St. Petersburg, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">della Casa Tempi, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">at Bridgewater, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">del Passegio, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">San Sisto, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">treatment by, of Amor, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his children, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Reaper and the Flowers, The</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Renaissance, the spirit of the, in Raphael’s work, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">childhood in its relation to the, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Republic</i>, Plato’s, cited, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Resignation</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Reynolds, Sir Joshua, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Richter, Jean Paul Friedrich, autobiography of, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">early birth of consciousness in, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Goethe, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Riverside Magazine for Young People, The</i>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Roman literature, childhood in, <a href="#Page_31">31-38</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Rousseau, Jean Jacques, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Ruskin, John, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Samuel, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Sanford and Merton</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Sarah, the laugh of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Scarlet Letter, The</i>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Schliemann, Dr., <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">School, great literature in, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Sella</i>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Sellar, John Y., quoted, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Sentiment, French and German, as seen by the English and American, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Shadow, A</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Shakespeare, childhood in, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">limitations of the exhibition, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his Moth, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Coriolanus</i>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>King John</i>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Titus Andronicus</i>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>Richard III.</i>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">random passages in, relating to childhood, <a href="#Page_123">123-125</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">reasons for the scanty reference, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with Pope, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Shunamite, the, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Simeon, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Simonides, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">quoted, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Sketches of the History of Christian Art</i>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Smith, Goldwin, translation by, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Snow-Bound</i>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Snow-Image, The</i>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Solitude, the, of childhood, <a href="#Page_160">160-162</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Songs of Innocence</i>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Sophocles, the <i>Œdipus Tyrannus</i> of, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Sparrows, the story of the miraculous, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Spectator, The</i>, a writer in, quoted, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Spenser, Edmund, his <i>Faery Queen</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Statius, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span><i>Story by the Fire, A</i>, an example of what a poem for a child should not be, <a href="#Page_222">222-225</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Supernaturalism in ancient literature, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Suspiria de Profundis</i>, <a href="#Page_158">158-162</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Swedenborg, a saying of, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Symonds, John Addington, translation by, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Bernard, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Catherine, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Christina, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Elizabeth of Hungary, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Francis of Assisi, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Genevieve, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Gregory Nazianzen, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. John Chrysostom, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">S. Kenelm, <a href="#Page_68">68-70</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">St. Pierre, Bernardin, <a href="#Page_180">180-183</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Tanagra figurines, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Tanglewood Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Tennyson, Alfred, makes a heroine of the babe, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>May Queen</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Thompson, D’Arcy W., translation by, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Thoreau, Henry David, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Thorwaldsen, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Tirocinium</i>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Titus Andronicus</i>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>To a Child</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Translations, the great, of the Elizabethan era, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Twice-Told Tales</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Two Gentlemen of Verona</i>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Ugly Duckling, The</i>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">compared with <i>The Snow-Image</i>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Ugolino, Count, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>Vicar of Wakefield, The</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137-140</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Village Blacksmith, The</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Virgil, contrasted with Homer, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his treatment of childhood, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Virgilia, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Volumnia, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst"><i>We are Seven</i>, <a href="#Page_168">168-224</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Weariness</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Whittier, John Greenleaf, childhood in the writings of, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Wonder-Book</i>, Hawthorne’s, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Wordsworth, William, the creator of Alice Fell and Lucy Gray, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">quoted, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the ridicule of his <i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his defensive Preface, <a href="#Page_145">145-147</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his apology for <i>Alice Fell</i>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his poem of <i>Lucy Gray</i>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his poem of <i>The Pet Lamb</i>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his treatment of incidents of childhood, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">the first to treat the child as an individual, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his draft on his own experience, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his poetic interpretation of childhood, <a href="#Page_153">153-156</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his ode, <i>Intimations of Immortality</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his treatment of death, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> +<li class="isub1">his <i>We are Seven</i> contrasted with <i>A Story of the Fire</i>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx"><i>Wreck of the Hesperus, The</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> + +<li class="ifrst">Zarephath, the widow of, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li class="indx">Zechariah, quoted, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> + +</ul> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="deco" style="max-width: 43.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/deco.jpg" alt="Decoration from the original cover"> +</figure> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75367 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75367-h/images/cover.jpg b/75367-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c64e52 --- /dev/null +++ b/75367-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75367-h/images/deco.jpg b/75367-h/images/deco.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..675f0e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/75367-h/images/deco.jpg diff --git a/75367-h/images/riverside-press.jpg b/75367-h/images/riverside-press.jpg Binary files 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