Stroy of English Lit

7/30/2019 Stroy of English Lit

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SAMSON AGONISTES 75

and bore Him to a flower^' valley, where they refreshedHim with "ambrosial fruits fetched from the Treeof Life."

13. Samson Agonistes Milton's last poem wasSamson Agonistes, and was published in 1671 withParadise Regained. It is a drama, modelled uponthe noblest style of the Greek tragedians. In ithe tells the tragedy of a lost cause. Israel falleninto bondage at the hands of the Philistines, isMilton's scriptural parallel for the fall of Puritan

England. Samson, the mighty hero of the play, isa figure large enough to fill the whole stage yetthere are great figures besides, especially in Manoaand Dalila. The height from which Samson fell,and the pity of his ruin, measure the depth ofEngland's fall and the sorrow of it. Samson'snobility and strength were his whilst he preservedhis purity. This lost, " blind, disheartened, shamed,"he sinks to an inglorious end. Yet he is thechosen of God; in him it seems that God's owncause is lost. Is there no hope? Is there noremedy? Great as is the discomfiture of Samson,yet he takes a noble revenge and death. Thelast scene of all shows him in his most heroicmoment. Even though the destruction involvedhimself, yet in his death his tyrants also find theirend. Thus

Living or dying thou hast fulfilledThe work for which thou wast foretoldTo Israel, and now liest victoriousAmong thy slain.

All is best, though we oft doubtWhat the unsearchable disposeOf highest wisdom brings about.And ever best found in the close.

This is the song of hope raised by the grand old


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76 MILTON

man as he looks out upon the ruinous scene ofPuritanism fallen and disgraced. He still lives whosemighty hand was in that mighty movement. Shallits fall

awake the noteof despair? Is there not

yet hope afforded in the thought that God's " uncon-trollable intent still remains ? Let " peace and con-solation " have place, " and calm of mind " ; the causeis His.

There is much of autobiography in Milton'sSamson. The whole poem, indeed, is rich in itsreference to the innermost feeling of the lonely poetin the dark days. The whole poem is pitched in afine key ; the heroic style everywhere fits the heroicsubject ; some of its passages quiver with the pathosof the story ; all is lifted into the region of thesublime, and nothing in literature so closely com-pares with the composition as the tragedies ofSophocles. In both we find the same noble applica-

tion of art to permanent moral problems, to theconflict of the human soul with the evil destinies ofthe universe, and to his tragic triumph over them.Yet in Milton's drama we also seem to have goneback in time some sixty years, and once more tomove in the period of the great Elizabethan drama-tists. When Milton wrote Samson Agonistes, thetheatres were again open, and on their stage thecorrupt men of the corrupt court of the Restorationwere taking pleasure in the presentation of plays inwhich vice was exalted in place of virtue, corruptionmagnified, and purity debased. The art expendedupon the production of such pieces was as debasedas the morals of the pieces themselves. Suddenly,like a ghost from times past, Milton's noble and

stately drama moves into our vision the last, asit is one of the finest in conception and execu-tion, of all English dramas, with all the purityand sincerity of the healthy and happy Elizabethandays.


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SHAKESPEARE AND MILTON 77

Shakespeare and Milton. Its great author thus,in his last effort, compels us into an attempted com-parison with Shakespeare, to whose lofty eminencehe most nearly approaches. And yet the com-parison must tend rather to discover points of con-trast than points of resemblance. In Shakespearewe seem to hear the sounds of many instruments,his music is that of an orchestra; there is oftengaiety and the music of dancing in his notes ; Milton,on the other hand, gives us the music of the mightyorgan, with its full -toned peals and volumes ofmajestic sound. Shakespeare exhibits universalityof range. His spirit finds a point of contactwherever it goes ; Milton has more of the sub-lime. He soars aloft, and his spirit finds itsnative air in the highest heavens. Shakespeareseizes upon all men and subjects; Milton isrestricted in his range, and only certain typesof character properly belong to him. Shake-

speare's genius is great in its creative energy;Milton's rather in its moral earnestness. Shake-speare rings ofttimes with a merry laughterMilton not less seldom quivers with a noble scorn.Shakespeare stands for the secular and profane inthe great revival ; Milton for the spirit of Christianityin the same. Shakespeare found many dark prob-

lems in his survey of life, but he had, or at least heoffered, no solution ; Milton was faced with the sameriddles of existence, but he had a remedy to offer, ora relief in the gloomy hour, with the glorious story ofRedemption and the immortal hope thus given toman. And one result of this is that Milton isalready to a certain extent out of date. The worldhas outgrown his narrow, Puritan view of life, andso he is far less read than Shakespeare. Yet heis a giant-figure in the world's literature. Evenif his theology became an obsolete superstition,his ethical purposes, inflamed as they were by


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78 MILTON

an empyrean imagination, are those which gavemotive to the Agamemnon or King Lear. He hadnot the Shakespearean humour and impartialitybut he had the zeal of the Christian whetted bythe conflicts of Puritan England.


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CHAPTER V

Seventeenth Century Prose IIJohn Bunyan. His Writings : Pilgrim's Progress, Holy War,

Mr Badman, Grace Abounding. Baxter and Fox. Barrowand South. Izaak Walton. Cowley. Temple. Claren-don. Philosophical Writers : Hobbes, Locke. PersonalMemoirs. Lucy Hutchison, Evelyn, and Pepys.

1651. Hobbes' Leviathan.

1653. Izaak Walton's Compkat Angler.1678. Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress (First Part).1684. Pilgrim's Progress (Second Part).l6go. Locke's Essay Concerning Human Understanding.1818. Evelyn's Diary first publishei1825. Pepys' Diary first published.

1. John Bunyan. After Milton, Bunyan is themost considerable literary figure of the seventeenthcentury, as he is also the next most importantliterary exponent of the religious temper of PuritanEngland. In modern history he is by far the mostremarkable instance of a literary genius who, born inhumble life, receiving the barest rudiments of learn-ing in his boyhood, all his life living next door topoverty, brought forth in the pure Doric of his

native tongue a book instinct with the spirit notmerely of his own time or people, but of world-widehumanity, and instantly recognised as such intowhosesoever hands it may fall. Few, comparatively,of the English-speaking races of to-day are altogether

unacquainted by family tradition or at first hand79


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80 SEVENTEENTH CENTURY PROSE II

with this immortal writing, and assuredly none butsuch as these will discount this high praise.

John Bunyan was born in the neighbourhood ofBedford in 1628, and became, in the manner of hisfather, a " tinker." Poor though his parents were, hetells us, " it pleased God to put it into their hearts toput me to school, to learn me both to read andwrite; the which I also attained, according to therate of other poor men's children." But, undoubtedly,the more important part of his education wasreceived in his humble home, where he received the

rudiments of religious knowledge. To a child of hisabnormally active imagination, this instruction wasfar the most important element in the foundations ofhis later mental and spiritual life. He must alsohave acquired a considerable knowledge of the Biblein his early years another very important factor inthe development of so imaginative a man. He him-self tells us that he lived a wild and dissolute youth.But it is more than probable that his estimation ofthe sinfulness of his early years is couched inlanguage which has the rich descriptiveness of hismore allegorical and imaginative work. He took thefield for a short time at the outbreak of the CivilWar ; on which side he does not tell us. Later, hetells us that his "mercy was to light upon a wife

whose father was counted godly." They married,though " without so much household stuff as a dish ora spoon betwixt " them. But his bride brought withher two small books, the Plain Man's Pathway toHeaven and the Practice of Piety, which they readtogether, and which exercised a powerful influenceupon his life. The spiritual conflict which followedupon this reading is described by Bunyan with greatpower in his Grace Abounding. Finally, he foundpeace under the instruction of John Gifford, ministerof the newly formed community of " independents "

in religion, who in 1650 formed themselves into a


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BUNYAN 81

church, now known as Bunyan Meeting, Bedford.Bunyan soon became a preacher, and in 1656 his firstbook appeared, entitled Some Gospel Truths Opened.The restoration of Charles compelled local magi-strates,

however unwilling, to reinforce the Act ofUniformity, and in November 1660 Bunyan foundhimself in the county gaol. This imprisonment,sometimes little, more than nominal, at other timesmore severe, lasted twelve years. Other books wereissued during this period, among them his GraceAbounding to the Chief of Sinners, a piece of autobio-graphy of astonishing quality. After his release hebecame, under the Declaration of Indulgence, alicensed preacher, and pastor of his church in Bed-ford. In 1675 the Declaration of Indulgence waswithdrawn, and again Bunyan was imprisoned, thistime for six months, in the town gaol on BedfordBridge. During this imprisonment (as Dr Brown,Bunyan's most learned biographer, almost certainly

proves), he wrote the first part of Pilgrim's Progress.In 1680 the Life and Death of Mr Badman appeared,and in 1682 The Holy War ; whilst in 1684 the secondpart of The Pilgrim! s Progress was issued. Bunyandied four years later, and was interred in the Noncon-formist burial-ground at Bunhill Fields, in London.

Bunyan wrote copiously. Many of his books areno doubt the recollections of his broad utterances insermons. But he will be always remembered by fourof them : The Pilgrim's Progress, The Holy War, MrBadman, and Grace Abounding. The full title of hisimmortal work is The Pilgrim's Progress from thisWorld to that which is to come, delivered in the Simili-

tude of a Dream, by John Bunyan. It appeared in1678, and a second part followed six years later.

The book immediately became famous, and manythousands of copies were sold in the author's lifetime.

Countless editions have since appeared, and the book

has been translated into more languages than anyF


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other printed book except the Bible. Let the bookbe given into the hands of a child ever so young, if

he can but read, and its story will grip his imagina-tion and hold him enchanted ; and such a child inhis latest years will return repeatedly to the bookof his childhood, always again to come under itsspell. And the learned and wise can no less with-hold their admiration from the book, nor refuse toplace it high in the roll of honour in the world'sliterature.

What is its title to be called literature ? What are

the secrets of its never-failing charm ? To take thesecond question first : the story has all the realismwhich its narration could receive from a pen whichwas the instrument of an imagination whose creationsstood out vividly and distinctly, and which breathedinto those creations the breath of life. Christian,with his burden on his back, is a real man, andEvangelist, who meets him on his way, is an exactpicture of a man whom we all have seen for ourselvesand heard. Everyone of us has been to VanityFair ; we have all met and talked with Ignorance andHopeful, Talkative and Money-Love. We have allwalked in meadows as delightful as those in whichChristian and his companions \yalked and restedand slept; we all have seen, or heard, or read, ofcastles like that in which Giant Despair held theunhappy pilgrims in his vile dungeon. The verynames of the characters and places Bunyan describes,are pictures in themselves. We should recognisethem even without description. The action of thestory never fails, and the pace the pilgrims makeexactly suits us as we accompany them. We areglad to linger with

themin the

House Beautiful, or tohurry with them with all speed from Doubting Castle.The story has all the reality in it which the boy findswhen he first reads Robinson Crusoe, or follows Swiftin the relation of Gullivers Travels. The moment


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PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 83

we see the pilgrim in rags setting out with his burden,we become interested in his fortunes, and our interestnever flags until we have seen him fairly within thegates of the Celestial City. Moreover, the story is

told in such simple language as to be understood bythe simplest reader ; whilst, in spite of the fact that itis an allegorical treatment of matters fundamental tothe Christian religion, it tells the spiritual experi-ences of a man to whose heart every reader findsa counterpart within his own breast. This leadsus to attempt the answer to our first question.The book ranks with the highest literature mainlybecause of the purity of the language its writeruses, and the perfection of his art in the employmentof that instrument. Bunyan writes in the purestSaxon-English as he had learned it by his daily useand reading of the English Bible. He knew no othertongue, nor needed any. His is the language inwhich, with simplicity, directness, and the inimitable

charm which is always added to those qualities, thestory of the early books of Genesis and the narrativeof the evangelists are told.

The form of Bunyan's narrative, no less than itsstyle, gives distinction to the work. It is an allegorywith a dream-plot underlying it. It is true that thedetails do not always hang together. There areincongruities, as there always must be in a long-spunallegory, and especially one which attempts, as thisdoes, to blend so many everyday scenes of earthly lifewith things spiritual and unseen. But Macaulaymakes a good answer to this objection when he sayshe does " not believe that any man, whatever might behis genius, and whatever his good luck, could longcontinue a figurative history without falling into

many inconsistencies. We are sure that incon-sistencies, scarcely less gross than the worst into

which Bunyan has fallen, may be found in theshortest and most elaborate allegories of the 5/^c/?cr


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and the Rambler. The Tale of a Tub and TheHistory of John Bull swarm with similar errors, if thename of error can be properly applied to that whichis unavoidable. It is not easy to make a simile goon all-fours. . . . The best thing, on the whole, thatan allegorist can do, is to present to his readers asuccession of analogies, each of which may separatelybe striking and happy, without looking very nicelyto see whether they harmonise with each other.This Bunyan has done, and . . . the general effectwhich the tale produces on all persons, learned and

unlearned, proves that he has done well." The plothas orderliness of development; the parts follownaturally upon each other, and are correctly relatedto the whole. There is great beauty in the descrip-tive passages. Bunyan's descriptions are genuinepictures, life-like and convincing. Though there isgreat fervour, at times great passion, in his utter-ances, Bunyan never ceases to be natural ; he isnever detected in the act of writing merely for effect.Lastly, the book evinces broad sympathies. Thereis nothing narrow or merely individual in its treat-ment of the spiritual emotions. "With deepestpathos it enters into the stern battle so real to all ofus, into those heart-experiences which make up, forall, the discipline of life."

Next to The Pilgrim,' s Progress, probably The HolyWar is most popular. Substituting the soul of man

(Mansoul) for the Garden of Eden, it may be said, inbrief, that the purpose of the book is to tell the samestory as had been so magnificently told by Milton inhis Paradise Lost. Bunyan displays all his formerpower of realistic description

;great ingenuity, not

alwaysquite so successfully, is

expended upon theplot ; but though the story excites and maintains thereader's deepest interest, it does not leave him withthe same sense of satisfaction as he finds in readingThe Pilgrim's Progress.


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GRACE ABOUNDING 85

The Life and Death of Mr Badman was conceivedby Bunyan as a book in which he should tell of " thelife and death of the ungodly, and of their travelthrough this world to hell," as he had formerly tracedthe progress of the pilgrim from this world to glory.Mr Badman is a thoroughgoing scoundrel, of whomWiseman tells his neighbour Attentive as they, talktogether of the passing bell which yesterday tolledfor him in his passing from life to death. Thenarrative of Badman's life is seriously interrupted bylong dissertations on lying, swearing, stealing,

impurity, and the like, which, good enough in them-selves, break in unduly upon the course of the story.Nevertheless, it is an excellent piece of work, andgives us a life-like picture of such vulgar men asBunyan may well have known in his day in Bedford,or have met in his extensive preaching tours.Bunyan moves, as always, among living men ; hisfeet are on the solid earth. So life-like is this pictureof Badman, so universal is the type, that we think wesee him, even as Christian is also readily found inour own experience. The simplicity and naturalnessof the dialogue between Attentive and Wiseman oftenforcibly remind us of old Izaak Walton's charm inthe same style of writing.

Grace Abounding gives Bunyan a place in the rank

of St Augustine and St Thomas a Kempis. It tellstruthfully of the heartrending agony of a seventeenthcentury sinner who, under the Puritanical teaching ofhis day, is led to face his sin and to seek salvation,consolation and comfort, by availing himself of " theblessed privilege to flee to Jesus Christ for mercy."

It is a faithful transcript of the experiences of a rare

soul conscious of its frailty in the discharge of its

highest duty toward God, yet ever struggling tobring itself into vital union with the Divine Spirit,

and to govern its actions in conformity with theDivine Will, to the perfecting and purifying of its


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life. Thus it remains true to the innermost experi-ence of men to this day, though its doctrinal settingmay remain only as a record of the faith of his ownday and Church.

Contemporary with Bunyan, George Pox (1624-90) was also a dreamer of dreams ; he saw visions,and attempted to describe them. His Journal iswritten in simple language, and is sometimeseloquent ; but on the whole his writing is turgid andharsh. One other representative of the Noncon-formists deserves mention Richard Baxter (1651-91). His style is colloquial; his homeliness isrefreshing, and his racy autobiography still makesinteresting reading, though probably the SainfsEverlasting Rest is his most popular book. Orthodoxdivinity is also not wanting in his contributions tothe greater prose literature of the period, andwe cannot leave quite unmentioned such great

masters of theological exposition as the learnedIsaac Barrow^ (1630-87) and the eloquent RobertSouth (1634rl716).

2. Izaak Walton. His singularly gracious andpious spirit, and the charm of quietness that sur-rounds his life, make this perhaps the best place tomention Izaak Walton (i 593-1683). Without anysplendid gifts of eloquence, Walton justly claimshigh place for the imperishable grace of his stylein the Compleat Angler. The book is a completerevelation of the spirit of the writer the spirit ofquietness and simplicity of mind, sweet content, andsincere piety. It relates the friendly discourse ofPiscator (the Fisherman), Auceps (a Falconer), andVenator (a Hunter), who meet by chance on Totten-

ham Hill on a fine, fresh May morning. They areas cheerful as the day, and the book keeps up thegood cheer to its last page. Each agrees to commendto the other his favourite pastime, but of courseAuceps and Venator are really introduced in order


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CLARENDON 87

that Piscator may be thrown apart from them infavourable contrast. The sweet poetry of nature ison every page of the writing, and the heart that isstirred with a feeling for the beauties of earth and skythus revealed to it, turns with unaffected simplicityand pious gratitude to the great God above them all.Walton must be remembered also for his delightfulLives. These are brief and exquisitely simple ; butthey are perfect miniature portraits. The firstcomposed was a Life of Dr Donne. There followedLives of Sir Henry Wotton, Richard Hooker, GeorgeHerbert, and Bishop Sanderson.

3. Clarendon. The seventeenth century boasts ofone great historian, whose history of the rebellion inEngland will always remain one of the great treasuresof the period, even if, as some historians say, itcannot always be relied on for an impartial relationof the historical facts. This work fell from the penof Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1608-74).

Intended for the Church, he left Oxford to practise law.He made rapid progress in his profession, but lovedletters better than law. Charles made him Chancellorof the Exchequer (1643). A year or two later heleft England for Jersey, and during the Common-wealth remained at the court of Charles the Second.At the Restoration he became Earl of Clarendonand High Chancellor. He was an upright adviserof his king, but gradually fell into such unpopularitythat he was compelled to leave the country, and hespent the last seven years of his life in exile inFrance. In this period he completed his History ofthe Rebellion, begun in 1646. This is the work whichentitles him to fame, though he also wrote a Historyof the Civil War in Ireland, and his own Life. Hisgreat powers of description and a certain statelinessof style give distinction to Clarendon's history,

but his highest praise is as a writer of portraitures.

Here he is at high-water mark. No writer has


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88 SEVENTEENTH CENTURY PROSE 11

succeeded to a greater degree in bringing vividlybefore his reader just the portrait of the living manwhom he undertakes to describe. In spite of hisroyalist bias, his portrait of Cromwell is masterly, and

he has conducted the whole narrative with a temper-ance and dignity that will make it endure. It is arare piece of living history.

4. Pbilosophical Writers. Seventeenth centuryEnglish prose is adorned with the writings of twogreat philosophers Hobbes and Locke. Others ina more extended work might deserve fuller mention,especially those of the famous school of CambridgePlatonists, with Henry Moore and Ralph Cudworthin their midst ; but even then, their mention wouldhave larger reference to their place in the develop-ment of philosophical opinion in England, than to theliterary expression of those opinions. And even inrespect of Hobbes and Locke there is a difference.Both equally deserve their high position for their

eminence as philosophical thinkers; but Hobbesis the more considerable of the two as a writer ofEnglish prose. He thought for himself, anddeveloped his hard doctrines much more by thepowerful aid of his own reflections than by referenceto the writings of others ; and when he wrote hecould find a nervous style with which, in terse, direct,

and unmistakably clear language, he could expresshimselfThomas Hobbes (1588-1679) stands midway between

Bacon and Locke in the line of English thinkers. Hislong life, which began in the year of the SpanishArmada, stretched almost to the coming of Williamof Orange. His philosophic and literary activitiesculminated in the publication in 165 1 of his famouswork, entitled Leviathan. Thus we may consider himas especially belonging to the revolutionary times.Great was the upheaval of thought in these years,not alone in the large department of life which is


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HOBBES 89

occupied with political, civil, and religious affairs,but in that other great department of philosophicaland scientific opinion. In astronomy, the Copernicantheory, was firmly establishing itself, and, aided by

the really scientific genius of Kepler and Newton,was laying secure foundations for the researches offuture generations. In mathematics, Napier, withhis invention of logarithms, and the immortal SirIsaac Newton, with his great work in mathematicsand physics to name no others were setting afootequally wide-reaching developments. Moreover, letus give Charles the Second all the credit he deservesfor the encouragement he gave to science, when hegave his practical blessing to the infant Royal Societyin 1662. Researches initiated on Bacon's method ofobservation, hypothesis, and verification now beganto lay the broad foundations of modern physical andbiological science ; and such great discoverers and in-quirers as William Harvey (d. 1657), who first demon-strated the circulation of the blood, and Robert Boyle,the natural philosopher, belong to the period. Inthe wider and more comprehensive field of generalphilosophy, Descartes in France was preparing thefoundations of a new school of thought. At home,Thomas Hobbes was the one great Englishman whoattempted, by the exercise of speculative thought,to construct a complete philosophical system whichshould embody the rationale of the phenomena ofthe universe and of man, as they presented them-selves to the observer of his age. Hobbes is thegreat exponent and defender of absolutism. Livingin such times as his, he was compelled to observe hiscountry, as he says, "boiling over with questionsconcerning the rights of dominion and obedience

due from subjects." The question thus forced uponhis mind was : " What is sovereignty ? " Hence springsthat part of his philosophic system which deals withthe State, and which is described in his Leviathan,


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the book in which we are most interested, thoughit expounds only a part of his philosophical system.That system, as he conceived it, was to be ascomplete and comprehensive as Herbert Spencer

in recent times aimed at making his Synthetic Philo-sophy. A thoroughly original thinker, consistent andfearless in deducing his conclusions, Hobbes createdimmense stir in the world of thought of his day.It could hardly be otherwise. With resistless logiche proves the inviolability of the right of subjects toresistance. Published in 165 1, men taunted Hobbeswith having produced his Leviathan as a panegyricupon the system of Oliver Cromwell, and to gainthe Protector's favour by proving his right to thatposition. Nor was the bitter tongue always silencedwith the philosopher's quiet reply that since OliverCromwell did not become Lord Protector until 1653,it was to little purpose that in 165 1 a book shouldbe published approving his appointment to that

post. Again, so doughty a fighter in the cause ofthe divine right of kings was properly received intoroyal favour when the " Merry Monarch " came tohis own ; and we need not be surprised that againthe philosopher was taunted by those who thoughtthey saw in self-interest the underlying motive in hisown life, as indeed he proved it to be with human

nature generally in that department of his philo-sophical system which treated of ethics. But thetruth is that Hobbes thought fearlessly for himself,and with equal fearlessness expressed his opinionsfreely, having the genuine purpose of the born philo-sopher. In fact, Hobbes could hardly expect to pleaseanyone with his system. Looked upon blankly asmaterialistic in general philosophy, for an absolute

government in politics, deterministic in his ethics, andatheistic in religion, Hobbes did much to determinethe activities of the English philosophers who wereto follow him for the next century or more, even if


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LOGKE 91

this were only by negation. But a history of philo-sophy must tell more of. this. His interest forourselves, after all, chiefly lies in his gifts of ejjpres-

sion, by which he was enabled to write what hethought in plain and unadorned yet always forcefulprose. He had something to say, and he knewhow to say it so that his meaning could not bemisunderstood. In this respect his style has rareexcellence. His sentences and paragraphs are wellconstructed ; his bright and pithy sayings smite theunderstanding with unerring effect, and were it not forsome quaintness in the terms of expression it wouldnot be difficult for a reader to suppose himself engagedwith the writings of a nineteenth century author.

John Locke (1632-1704) is the third great Englishthinker of the seventeenth century. His title tofame rests more securely upon his achievements asa philosopher than as a writer of English prose, in

which, though he could express himself aptly, andtherefore could derive an advantage for his philo-sophy from his clear and unadorned diction, hedoes not exhibit any of the characteristics of agreat writer. In this he stands below his two greatpredecessors, Bacon and Hobbes. As a philosopher,his reputation is at least equal to theirs in the

breadth of his ideas ; and in his personal characterhe was greater than either of them, while hisinfluence upon posterity has probably been greaterthan theirs. Passing from Westminster School toChrist Church, Oxford, he ultimately becamelecturer on Greek and, rhetoric there. But hismind displayed a bent toward scientific investigationbased on the Baconian method of induction. Thoughhe never took a degree in medicine, he practised for

some time. Becoming acquainted with Lord Ashley,afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury, an intimate friend-

ship resulted,, which persisted until Shaftesbury's

death in 1683. Political considerations made it


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necessary for him to reside abroad for some years,but the Revolution in 1688 gave him freedom toreturn, and he received an appointment as Com-missioner of Appeals. Locke was essentially a

moderate and a sound man, tolerant and calm. Hewas highly valued by William III. and his ministersand, along with Sir Isaac Newton, he was consultedas an expert in the reform of the current coinage.He was the typical philosopher, and an admirablepersonality besides. In 1690 he published the workwhich secures him his great fame, an Essay Concerning

HumanUnderstanding.

Hehad previously issued

an Essay on Toleration, and subsequently issued twotreatises, On Civil Government (1690), and ThoughtsConcerning Education (1693). Locke was engagedupon the composition of his famous essay for well-nigh twenty years. As a Fellow of the Royal Societyhe was interested in experimental research, and wasone of a committee appointed " for considering anddirecting experiments." On a certain occasion, atan informal meeting with a few friends of kindredinterests, he tells us that, discoursing on a subjectvery remote from this, they "found themselvesquickly at a stand by the difficulties that arose onevery side. After we had a little while puzzledourselves, without coming any nearer a resolution of

those doubts which perplexed us, it came into mythoughts that we took a wrong course, and that,before we set ourselves upon inquiries of that nature,it was necessary to examine our own abilities, andsee what objects our understandings were or werenot fitted to deal with. This I proposed to thecompany, who all readily assented; and thereuponit was agreed that this should be our first inquiry."Thus Locke was led to consider the problems whichhe discusses in the book, which did not appear untilmore than eighteen years afterwards. The Essayis divided into four books. In the first, Locke dis-


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LOCKE'S "ESSAY" 93

cusses the doctrine of innate ideas, and develops histheory that the "origin, certainty, and extent ofhuman knowledge " depend not upon " innate ideas,"

but upon"

experience." That is to say, all our ideasare based upon the sensations conveyed to us by oursenses, and by the ideas which the mind may formby the combination of these sensations. None ofthese ideas, not even those of space or time, are bornin the mind : all are the result of our experience.Judgments presuppose ideas; ideas presupposesensations. Thus, a number of sensations togethergive us an idea of a book, let us say ; this idea of abook, connected with the idea of a table, leads to the

judgment that the book lies on the table. The forma-tion of ideas by the fusion of sensations and thejudgments formed from the ideas are processes of themind : the sensations are, as we may say, the only rawmaterial of the mental processes. In the second book

of the Essay the doctrine extends into a discussionof the concepts of which the human mind can becomeconscious. These, however perplex, are resolvableeither into " qualities of external things," i.e., sensa-tions, or " operations of our own mind," e.g., reflection.Knowledge, which means the formation of concep-tions more and more complex, grows gradually underconditions of experience. The third book deals withlanguage, and the fourth with the problems ofcertainty of knowledge and its relation to absolutetruth. Locke finds in "experience" the ultimatesource of all human knowledge ; it is by means of thesensations that we receive of the qualities of things,and by the operation of our own spirit upon thesematerials that we gain such knowledge as we ever canacquire of the world ; and by showing that the only cer-tain knowledge obtainable is that based upon experi-ence, Locke dealt the final blow to the absurdities of thescholastic metaphysics. Thus he prepared the way forthose two great philosophers of the eighteenth century.


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Berkeley and Hume, who more fully developed thedoctrine of the experimental philosophers whosesystem finds its ultimate origin in the dictum ofDescartes, Cogito ergo sum.

5. Personal Memoirs. Our survey of the prosewritings of the century will not be complete withoutreference to the personal memoirs which writers ofthat time issued, amongst which three are of out-standing interest, viz., those of Mrs Hutchinson, SirJohn Evelyn, and Samuel Pepys. Lucy Hutchinson(1620- ? ) was the wife of Colonel Hutchinson, aGod-fearing parliamentarian, who, late in life, wasimprisoned in Deal Castle upon suspicion of a com-plicity in plots against the king, and there died.She was a woman of education and refinement, andher picture of a Puritan gentleman and a Puritanhome is a valuable contribution to our knowledgeof the social conditions of her times, whilst theaffection and artless simplicity revealed in herwriting give it an irresistible charm. Sir JohnEvelyn shares with Samuel Pepys the distinction ofclassic rank in literature, by their private diaries.Evelyn (1620-1706) was a gentleman of easy fortuneand with country tastes. His loyalty to the royalcause, together with his good sense and moderationof opinion, made him a persona grata at court, and

he became one of the most notable social personagesof the time. He met and knew everybody, and wasinterested in everything. He was a voluminouswriter, but his literary fame rests upon his Diary,with perhaps his Sylva. The Diary was firstpublished in i8i8. It covers a period of seventyyears in the most memorable period of our history.Nothing is too trivial for mention, and everything isdescribed with the sedate simplicity of a gentlemanof accurate observation. Some of his simple state-ments of facts of supreme importance have a strangeappeal in them. Take, for example, the following :


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loth December 1659. I treated privately with ColonelMorley, then Lieutenant of the Tower, and in great trustand power, concerning delivering it to the king, and thebringing of him in, to the great hazard of my life, butthe Colonel had been my school-fellow, and I knew would notbetray me.

12/A January 1660. Wrote to Colonel Morley again todeclare for his majesty.

iiik February 1660. A signal day. Monck, perceiving howinfamous and wretched a pack of knaves would have stillusurped the supreme power, and having intelligence that theyintended to take away his commission, repenting of what hehad done to the city, and where he and his forces werequartered, marches to Whitehall, dissipates that nest ofrobbers, and convenes the old Parliament, the Rump Parliament(so called as retaining some few rotten members of the other)being dissolved ; and for joy whereof were many thousands ofrumps roasted publicly in the streets at the bonfires this night,with ringing of bells and universal jubilee. This was the firstgood omen.

But in spite of its very great interest, Evelyn'sDiary seems comparatively insignificant when wecome ta examine that of Samuel Pepys. There isno diary in the world's literature to compare withthis, nor any work of a similar character, unless it beBoswell's Johnson. And even this comparison is tothe advantage of Pepys, for he is Johnson andBoswell gathered into one and the same person.Samuel Pepys (1633-1708) was a distinguished civilservant, who rose from humble life to a position ofgreat eminence and usefulness. His Diary covers aperiod of only a little more than eight years, extend-ing from 1st January 1660 to 31st May 1669, whenhe writes (owing to an affection of the eyes fromwhich he afterwards recovered), "and thus ends all

that I doubt I shall ever be able to do with my owneyes in the keeping of my journal." Pepys isunequalled for the natveU of his self-revelation. Hetells us everything about the happenings of his time


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and the people with whom he meets, but most of allabout himself. He sets down his vanities and hisfollies ; he tells us his private thoughts ; he does notconceal his peccadilloes ; he does not omit to record

his quarrels and fallings out with Mrs Pepys; hemakes a note when he buys his wife a new dress,or himself a coat ; he indulges himself with recordsof his gains, and from time to time sets out thedetails of his financial position, always with a smackof satisfaction. There is nothing in his style except-ing its absolute spontaneity and naturalness. It isthe very man himself, with all his foibles and hisgood points, whom we have depicted on his pages.He wrote in cypher, and never dreamed that posteritywould read his story ; but when he died he bequeathedhis library, which he had got together with muchjudgment, to Magdalene College, Cambridge. TheDiary was included ; the cypher was discovered earlyin the nineteenth century, and the book first published,

with extensive omissions (many of them necessary),in 1825. We could ill afford to be without it

These diaries show us, along with the other worksmentioned in this chapter, that a prose style adaptedto general use has been acquired. Dryden, the pro-fessional man of letters, will round off this accomplish-ment, and the eighteenth century writers will take

advantage of this bequest from the seventeenth todevelop the literature of daily and periodical jour-nalism. The prose-writer of the new century willhave no excuse to offer for involved syntax or chaoticsentences : he must at least be clear.


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CHAPTER VI

Restoration Poetry and Drama

The Change in Poetic Style. Cowley. Waller.Denham.Marvell. Davenant. Butler's Hudibras. The Drama

Reopening of the Theatres. Influence of the FrenchDrama. Dramatic Poets : Otway and Lee. Playwrights.The Rehearsal. The Comedists. The School of Moli^re.Sir George Etheridge. Wycherley. Vanbrugh. Farquhar.Congreve.

1663. Butler's Hudibras (First Part).1672. The Rehearsal ycex,&\A'i&..1693. Congreve's first Comedy, the Old Bachelor.1700. Congreve's last Comedy, The Way of the World.

1. The Change in Poetic Style. It is a remarkablephenomenon that the character of English poetry, inthe lapse of the seventeenth century, should have socompletely changed from the imaginative richnesswhich it displayed in the reign of Elizabeth to theartificial and rhetorical form it assumed in the age ofAnne. Without attempting formal explanation, wecan distinctly trace the course of the change in thesuccession of poets already studied or now to bereviewed. We have, in the poetry of the two middlequarters of the seventeenth century, as it were, the

mingling of the waters. According to the pecul-

iarities of their temperament or their circumstances,we find the poets of this period still adhering to theold, as Milton and Marvell (omitting his Satires) andthe later of the poets studied in Chapter II., whilst

97 a


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others, as Waller and Denham, pass over entirely tothe new. Others, again, bear traces of both streamsof tendency : chief among these is Abraham Cowley.

Cowley (1618-67) showed great precocity as apoet, and early in life became the most popular ofliving English poets. He was an ardent Royalist, andsuffered accordingly. Disappointed of reward at theRestoration, he retired in disgust, and confined him-self for the rest of his life to his studious pleasures.

Such was his reputation, that he was buried instate in Westminster Abbey, laid by the remains

of Chaucer and Spenser. But his fame speedilydeclined. His early poetry attempted the style andfeeling of his great lyrical predecessors ; but hislove is expressed with much coldness and is weightedwith euphuistic phrases, whilst his poetry is chieflyengaged upon forced conceits. The Mistress (1647),a collection of love poems, is rendered impossible bythe unnatural ingenuity and the clever affectation ofthe verse. Cowley drives the metaphysical methodof Donne to excess, and he is seriously treated byJohnson as the chief of his clan. But it is more justto observe that such an absurd misuse of greatlearning and skill withdraws Cowley from the courtsof poetry altogether. The satire of the Spectatorprobes, as usual, to the core of the matter, and we

may well quote what Addison has to say about theselove poems, with the assurance that he is by nomeans unjust to Cowley.

Cowley, observing the cold regard of his mistress's eyes, andat the same time their power of producing love in him, con-siders them as burning-glasses made of ice ; and finding himselfable to live in the greatest extremities of love, concludes the

torrid zone to be habitable. When his mistress has read hisletter writ in juice of lemon by holding it to the fire, he desiresher to read it over a second time by love's flames. When sheweeps, he wishes it were inward heat that distilled these dropsfrom the limbec. When she is absent, he is beyond eighty,that is thirty degrees nearer the pole than when she is with


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him. His ambitious love is a fire that naturally mounts upward ;his happy love is the beams of heaven, and his unhappy love theflames of hell. When it does not let him sleep, it is a flamethat sends up no smoke. . . . His heart is an Aetna that,instead of Vulcan's shop, encloses Cupid's forge in it. Love, in

another place, cooks pleasure at his fire. Sometimes he isdrowned in tears and burnt in love, like a ship set on fire in themiddle of the sea.

Such a love is fantastical and witty enough, but itis not so sincere as John Lyly's ; Cowley's fashionis a disease worse than euphuism, and it is not sur-prising that we modern readers object to the task

of unravelling its intricate involutions. In 1656 hepublished a sacred epic in four books, most of itwritten in his Cambridge days, entitled Davideis,which deserves mention chiefly because it is writtenin the heroic couplets then fast becoming the estab-lished verse form. He employs the same metre withmuch success in his poem, On the Death of MrCrashaw. Cowley also wrote a number of "Pin-darique Odes " lyrics composed of lines of irregularlength, after the manner of Pindar. Almost allthese are uninteresting in themselves, but they exer-cised considerable influence on the poets of Cowley'sday, who freely imitated them. We owe to theseexperiments the really great odes of Dryden, Gray,Collins, and Wordsworth, to say nothing of the

efforts in the same manner of the great poets of astill later day. But while Cowley was trying to makefar-fetched conceits the basis of poetry, Milton wasshowing that the most sublime poetry should be atonce "simple, sensuous, and impassioned." Cowleywrote remarkably good prose, for which, if we arenot mistaken, he is more noteworthy than for hispoetry ; for the prose is as natural and lucid as thepoetry is metaphysical and false.

Edmtind Waller (1605-87) has left us verseremarkable for its grace and sweetness. That ofhis earliest years deserves a high place in the work


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conduct, was associated with Milton in the LatinSecretaryship toward the end of the Commonwealth.He sat in Richard Cromwell's Parliament as memberfor Hull, and represented that constituency till his

death. His poetry falls into two distinct classes hisearlier and lyric verses, and his later (chiefly) satiricalwork. The former has the general characteristicsof the poetry produced in the earlier half of thecentury, whilst the latter throws him into closerelationship with the poets of the Restoration. Hislyrical poetry gives him great distinction among thelater lyrists of the romantic age, whilst he gainedequal distinction among the satirists of the post-Restoration period. In his best lyrics, such as TheGarden and A Drop of Dew, he shows a wonderfullysympathetic insight into nature, and great depth offeeling; but he does not always maintain his highlevel. The Ode on Cromwell cannot conclusively beproved to be his, though it almost certainly is ; it is

in any case one of the finest poems of its kind inthe language. Its dignity and restraint are mostadmirably fitted to the subject of the poem. Politico-satirical writing, by its very nature, is unlikely tosecure lasting fame, the subjects under ridicule beingusually persons or events whose importance passesaway with them. Marvell's satirical poems share the

commonfate ; but in their

day and generationMarvell's satires, by their wit and stinging force,commanded respect or excited fear. He could throwthem off with great rapidity, and they always hit themark. Marvell could also write good Latin verse inthe manner of his great master, John Milton, ofwhom he was a sincere admirer, and whom, in hislighter vein, he followed not far off.

3. Butler's Hudibras Another poet of great re-putation, by no means exhausted to-day, is SamuelButler (1612-16). His fame rests upon his Hudibras,of which he published three parts. It is a huge.


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vigorous, and well-sustained satire, chiefly on thePuritans, upon whom, now that their sun has set,Butler pours all his withering scorn and violent hate.He employs the uncommon octo-syllabic verse withrare success, the form being well suited in his handsto the quick turns of his wit and his expressiveutterances often almost explosive in their vehe-mence. Our interest in the Puritan survives to thisday ; and this, added to Butler's wealth of illustration,forcible argument, and biting wit, has secured asurvival of interest in his satire. Much of it still

makes good reading. Butler doubtless found theinspiration for his poem but nothing more in theDon Quixote of Cervantes, which had recently beengiven to the world in an English dress. Innumer-able quotations and witticisms from his work havepassed current into our language, and Butler hasgiven us probably the best burlesque poem inEnglish.

The last survival in the seventeenth century ofthe lyrical outburst of its early years appearsin the verses of some of the most dissolute membersof the dissolute court of the last Stuart kings.

Sir Charles Sedley (1639-1701), SackviUe, Earlof Dorset (1637-1705), and John Willmott, Earl ofRochester (1647-80), have left us songs of genuine

lyrical power. They knew how to sing with muchsweetness, and when they could restrain their volup-tuous feeling and indecent speech, they proved them-selves capable of writing verse powerfully expressiveof pure and lofty emotion. But too often their workis so blotted as to become unreadable. With lyricgifts of equal splendour, Dillon, Earl of Roscommon(1634-85), must be placed in the same class withthese. He "only boasts unspotted lace." Thoughunfortunately undeserving of the same approval, onewoman at least here deserves mention. Aphra Behn(1642-89) wrote voluminously, and for years lived


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REVIVAL OF THE DRAMA 103

by her pen. Beside a long list of plays, eight novels,various poems, and miscellaneous writings must beset down to her account. In contrast with the un-inspiring quality of most of her verses, there are out-bursts of astonishing lyrical power. But, unhappily,even she could not rise superior to the moral turpitudeof the writers of her generation, and, in common withthat of her companions, much of her work, howeveradmirable, is necessarily left unread. In this band oflyrists, we have a last outburst of flame from thelyric fires which had burned so steadily earlier in thecentury. After them, nothing in the genuine lyrical

vein was produced for full a hundred years.4. Restoration Drama. Puritanism, whose spirit

was entirely foreign to what it would call the pro-fanity of dramatic representations, achieved its finaltriumph over the stage by an ordinance of the Lordsand Commons, issued in September 1642, that " publicstage plays shall cease and be forborne. Instead

of which are recommended to the people of thisland, the profitable and seasonable considerations ofrepentance, reconciliation and peace with God, whichprobably will produce outward peace and prosperity,and bring again times of joy and gladness to thesenations." In 1647 this ordinance was repeated, andagain in the year following, with stringent additionsof pains and penalties against those who shoulddisobey. In 1656 Sir William Davenant obtainedpermission to produce an Entertainment of Declama-tions of Music, at Rutland House, and shortly after-wards he presented The Siege of Rhodes, an operathe first in England. But it was not until August1660 that he obtained authority to open a publictheatre in London. Thus the theatres were closed

for a period of eighteen years ; and when they re-opened, there was but one survivor of the old dramaticschool, James Shirley, and his work as a playwrighthad been ended by the closing of the theatres.


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Davenant (1606-69) was the real link betweenthe two periods of dramatic production. He main-tained a lively recollection of the manner of themasters who were past and gone, and strove to give tothe age of Dryden the traditions of the great dramaof his youthful days. Neither his plays nor his poemsare of such merit as to detain us by their study here.His labours on behalf of play-acting, rather than hiswritings for the play-actors, entitle him to our respectand gratitude.

The Restoration and the reopening of the theatreswere accompanied by an immediate and clamantdemand for theatrical amusement. Writers of playswere found not wanting. The tastes of the peoplecame rapidly into correspondence with the tastesof the court, and these could not tolerate theElizabethan drama except in its later spicy form.Beaumont and Fletcher, not Shakespeare, had thehonour of revival. Old times were gone, old mannerschanged ; new modes of dramatic expression andnew standards of dramatic excellence were found inthe French tragedies and comedies of Corneille andMoliere. The court was lively and licentious : itscomedies must be the same. Charles the Secondand his courtiers were fond of all things Frenchdramatists must seek in France their new standards

and their up-to-date methods of dramatic expression.And surely the tragedies of Corneille and Racineand the comedies of Moliere were not unworthy tobecome the stimulus of a new dramatic age inEngland. In their choice of an heroic subject-matter, in the austere purity of their moral tone, inthe elevated grandeur of their verse, no English tragicpoet can follow Corneille or Racine at any reason-able distance. Even Dryden could not be wittywithout coarseness, nor heroic without bombast, norsublime without false exaggeration. Moliere is notimmoral and unscrupulous, like Congreve; he could


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INFLUENCE OF CORNEILLE 105

deal with love questions without a repulsive thought.The literary instinct which drove our Restorationdramatists to Corneille and Moliere was correct andworthy; but they were swamped by the impurity,the frivolity, the lack of seriousness,

which degradedthe Stuart court. Dryden might write heroicromances in imitation of Corrteille, but the nationis not with him, and he must live ! It is, therefore,a very degraded French drama that we have todisclose, and we shall do it with as much brevity aspossible. The triumphs achieved by the masterpiecesof the French stage must be repeated somehow uponthe English stage. We must, however, notice that theSpanish drama was not without its influence upon ourpost-Restoration dramatists ; it is chiefly responsiblefor the bewildering excess of detail in many of theirplots, and for their fine-spun intrigues. This in-fluence was reduced, under the influence of Moliere,in the plays of Congreve, whose plots are com-

paratively simple.5. Dramatic Poets. The supreme place as a

dramatist in this period belongs to John Dryden,who shares the honours as a dramatic poet withonly two authors, Thomas Otvray and Nathaniel Lee.The dramas of these three comprised all that thisperiod produced of dramatic poetry worthy ofremembrance. These men strove in their play-writing to produce literature, and hence approachedtheir task with a loftier conception of their aim thanmany of their later contemporaries and successors,who were playwrights pure and simple. Treatmentof Dryden's work as a dramatist is given in thechapter specially assigned to that writer. We thereforeproceed at once to discuss Otway and Lee. Thomas

Otway (1651-85), unlike Dryden, was a dramatistby nature, and his genius was cast in the tragicmould. The son of a clergyman, and educated atOxford, he made his way from the university to


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the London stage. He was a failure as an actor,and his first play, Aldbiades (1675), was a failuretoo. But it secured him the support of Rochesterand other patrons of the drama. Don Carlos, based

upon a French novel, achieved a success the nextyear. A brief and unfortunate enlistment as asoldier followed. Fighting desperately with poverty,and suffering the pangs of heart-breaking love for abeautiful actress who rejected his advances, in 1680he produced The Orphan, a tragedy in which he risessuperior to all his contemporaries. The pathos ofthis play has the true tragic grip, and undoubtedlyis a reflection of the emotions by which his ownheart was torn. The plot is powerful, turning uponthe deception of Monimia, who is beloved bytwo brothers, and is betrayed by the deceptionpractised upon her by the rejected lover, whopersonates his successful rival. Throughout theplay there are delightful touches in the poetry,

which in places reveals a feeling strange to thepoetry of the Restoration.

In Venice Preserved {i6?i2) Otway achieves a yethigher success in tragedy, though the poetry has notthe same graceful simplicity. Jaffier is the affection-ate husband of Belvidera, whom her father, a senator,disowns because of her marriage. Reduced to beggary,his need

andhis desire to

avenge himself onhis father-

in-law lead him to join in a conspiracy against theState at the persuasion of his best-beloved friend,Pierre, a man of much firmer resolution than himselfBut his tender love for Belvidera aids her in extract-ing from him the fact of the plot which, if successful,involves the death of all the senators, including herfather. Under her persuasion he renounces the con-spiracy, and confesses all to the senate. The promisehe receives, that the lives of the conspirators, includinghis friend Pierre, shall be spared is not kept. Hencethe drenching sorrows of the closing scenes of the


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OTWAYLEE 107

tragedy. There is unmistakable genius in the tellingof the piece. The movement is rapid, and makesdirectly for the tragic end. Such is the tension ofthe feelings excited, that the comic scenes inserted,gross as they are, give welcome relief Even so,the play is capable of affecting the spectator almostto agony.

Otway's life of poverty and unhappiness came to apremature end, some say by starvation, others by thefever of fatigue.

Nathaniel Lee (1653 ?-92) was no more fortunatein life than Otway, and his life of poverty and intem-perance was ended by his being stifled in the snowwhen returning drunk one night from a tavern.Like Otway, he failed as an actor, though he had agreat reputation as a dramatic reader. Of the playshe wrote, a dozen or more, chiefly on classic themes,his most successful were The Rival Ladies (1677)and Mithridates (1678). At its best his poetry was

of a high order, and in passion he excelled Dryden,and perhaps Otway. But he also excelled them toooften by his degeneracy into pure rant His blankverse, at its best, has something of the soundingmarch of Milton, whom he made his model. Onlya poet could write in such a strain as this, in makingdeclaration of love

No more ofthis,

no more; for I disdain

All pomp when thou art by : far be the noiseOf kings and courts from us, whose gentle soulsOur kinder stars have steered another way.Free as the forest-birds we'll pair together,Fly to the arbours, grots, and flowery meads,And in soft murmurs interchange our souls ;Together drink the crystal of the stream,Or taste the yellow fruit which Autumn yields ;

Andwhen the golden evening calls us home.

Wing to our downy nest, and sleep till morn.

6. Playwrights. A considerable band of thedramatists of the period deserve only to be described


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as playwrights. They worked perseveringly, andtheir plays pleased the theatre-goers ; but their worknot seldom lacked all trace of originality, and pre-sented but few, if any, of the qualities of literature.

John Greene (1640-1703) achieved a deserved successin his comedy, Sir Courtly Nice. Thomas Southeme(1660-1746) at least made a financial success of hiswork. Thomas Shadwell (1640-92) has good humour,though his plays are but poorly written. LikeElkanah Settle (1642-1724), he made good sport forDryden in his satires.

The Rehearsal. Before passing to the remainingdramatists of our period the brilliant post-Restora-tion writers of comedy we must take note of theappearance in 1672 of The Rehearsal, a captivatingparody upon the " heroic plays " of the early years ofthe Restoration. It appeared anonymously and wasthe work of several hands, though the chief sharewas undoubtedly that of George Villiers, Duke ofBuckingham (1627-88), one of the wildest andmost riotous of the Merry Monarch's courtiers.Dryden's heroic plays are the objects of the parody,especially his Conquest of Granada. Bayes personifiesDryden, and doubtless imitates that poet's personalpeculiarities. Meeting two friends, they ask himthe plot of his last play. He will not satisfy them,but invites them to come and see it in rehearsal.They accept the invitation and find the piece fullof the extravagances of the " heroic plays " they hadseen in the last few years. The scenes are purefarce ; the satire is biting, the wit sparkling, theparody perfect and unsurpassed, except a centurylater in the Critic by Sheridan (p. 312); and thecriticism is discerning and deservedly severe. Theplay is a work of real genius, and still lives to be readand to afford amusement when the plays which itparodies have long since been forgotten.

7. The School of Molidre. The English drama


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no POST-RESTORATION POETRY AND DRAMA

was sent in boyhood to France, where his educationwould at least not be tainted by the Puritan influenceswhich were then in the ascendant at home. Hereturned a fine gentleman and a Roman Catholic,well fitted to take the part of a gay young man ofthe town. He himself said that his four comedies,Love in a Wood, The Chief Dancing Master, ThePlain Dealer, and The Country Wife, were written inthese early years; but if so, they can hardly havebeen published without revision. Love in a Woodwas not acted until 1672, and the remaining plays

appeared in 1673, 1675, and 1677. With thesepresentations Wycherley ended his brilliant careeras a dramatist. Later he had the misfortune to beput in prison for debt, and remained there for someyears forgotten, though his plays still held the stage.One night, James the Second, then king, chanced tobe at a performance of The Plain Dealer, with which

he was so well pleased that he askedfor the

author,and, learning his misfortune, determined to pay hisdebts, and settled upon him a pension of ;^200 a year.Thereafter Wycherley was able to keep a respectablestyle of living. He never tried dramatic compositionagain, but strove nervously for fame as a poet by theproduction of great quantities of doggerel verse. Itsstyle is hardly less worthless than its morals. Thecharacteristics of Wycherley's plays are the extremecleverness of the dialogue and their degraded morals.It is hardly too much to say that he sacrificed every-thing for these.

Sir John Vanbrugh (1664-1726), an architect byprofession, found sufficient leisure in his early yearsto write several comedies which were successful on

the stage. His humour is rich, often more so thanthat of Congreve himself, though he is less witty. Heknew well, also, how to manage his plots for effect.George Farqtihar (1678-1707), handsome, gay, andwitty, also contributed several lively comedies.


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of his time could have bestowed upon him. On hisdeath he was buried with great pomp in WestminsterAbbey, retaining to the last the fashionable honourshe had so keenly desired and so largely secured.

Congreve's position in the brief but brilliant schoolof English comedy is easily defined. Etheridge laidthe foundation of the school by attempting to catchthe spirit of the French school of comedy, as hediscovered it in the pages of Moliere. Wycherleyimmediately took up the style and gave to it thestrength and vigour of his sturdier nature, adding

also the stronger spices ofhis

more pungentwit.

Congreve immediately followed, and in him thereare combined the elegance of the one and thestrength of the other of his predecessors, whilst herose at the same time much nearer to the eminenceof the French writer who was the supreme artistin their field. Congreve's learning, combined withhis lively imagination, gave greater breadth and amore genial warmth to his treatment of his subjects.Moreover, the effect of his genial wit is greatlyenhanced by his delicate fancy; no writer shows amore singular success in his nice choice of words.We are on the threshold of the eighteenth century.Congreve's English style brings us remarkablyclose to the fine phrasings and lucid simplicity of

Addison, and gives us a real foretaste of the de-lightful charm of the men of the age which wasabout to dawn. Their wit and humour, their faultlessconstruction, their entertaining plots, and the con-vincing characterisations of the figures appearingupon their stage, give to the comedies of Congrevethe right to live and to be admired to this day, butfor their one unpardonable defect : they are tootruthful a reflection of the immoral age to whichthey belong. Wycherley's characters are profligates," the object of their brief existence, the undividedpursuit of lawless gallantry." Their speech betrays


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CONGREVE 115

them ; there is no purity of affection, no sweetnessof life where they live and have their being. Again,to quote Charles Lamb, who says the best that canbe said for the dramatists of this school, "there isneither right nor wrong, gratitude or its opposite,claim or duty, paternity or sonship," in the societymade up of these men and women. Probably noEnglish dramatist has written dialogue more wittyor more sparkling than Congreve's ; but his cynicaland un-moral view of life must close his plays to allbut the student of taste and manners. So true is it,

that literature which is not inspired by a lofty ethicalmotive, which is not in Matthew Arnold's phrasein some sense a "criticism of life," cannot toleratethe blows of time. No cleverness, no literary skill,will atone for the absence of the " high seriousness "

which is the passport to the courts of the classics.The plays of Congreve are not true to the good andthe eternal in humanity ; they picture man andwoman in a low state of society, ruled by lax moralswhich we have left behind ; they have thereforechiefly a fossil interest, and little more.


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CHAPTER VII

Dryden

The Successor to Jonson's Chair. Dryden's First Period.Dryden the Playwright. The Conquest of Granada. TheCharacteristics of the " Heroic " Plays. Imitations ofShakespeare. Dryden's Comedy : Marriage a la Mode.Aurungzebe. Blank Verse adopted. Dryden's MiddlePeriod. Absalom and Achitophel. The Medal. Mac-Flecknoe. Religio Laid. The Hind and the Panther.Odes. Dryden's Last Period. The Translations. TheFables. Dryden's Prose. The Dawn of the EighteenthCentury.

163 1. Dryden born at Aldwinkle, in Northamptonshire.1658. Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Cromwell.1660. Astrcea Redux.1664. The Indian Queen, his first real dramatic success.1666. Annus Mirabilis.1670. The Conquest of Granada.1671. Buckingham's farce, The Rehearsal, produced.1 68 1 A bsalom and A chiiophel.1682. MacFUcknoe.

The Medal.Religio Laid.

1687. The Hind and the Panther.1697. Translation of fiV^V published.1699. The Fables.1 700. Dryden died.

1. The Successor to Jonson's Chair. When BenJonson died in 1637, there was no great literaryfigure whom " the Tribe of Ben " must as a naturalnecessity elect to occupy his throne. Milton, thegreatest living writer in the middle part of his


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century, aspired to no such kingdom; nor was hefitted by nature or disposition to occupy the positionof literary dictator, to command and receive thehomage of the wits of his day, or of the aspirants toliterary fame. Milton's genius made him a solitaryfigure in the literary world of his time ; and untilJohn Dryden appeared, there was none to assumeBen Jonson's rule. But from 1670 to his death in1700, Dryden held undisputed sway in the kingdomof English letters. His contemporaries thoughthim greater than Milton ; and though later genera-tions have more correctly judged the relative great-ness of the two poets, it is certain that no man couldhold for thirty years the place of supremacy inliterature unless his talents were noteworthy and hischaracter distinguished. An accomplished versifier,Dryden's wit and intellectual force proved himworthy to be accounted a great poet ; his deep andtrue insight into the qualities of poetry, and hispractical acquaintance with the poet's art, gaveemployment to his pen in the production of criticalessays in prose which, had he written nothing else,would make him worthy of an important place in thestory of English literature. Add to this his highsuccess, when at his best, in the composition of plays,and we begin to appreciate the extent of his great

literary powers, and the strength of the claim hemakes upon the attention of the student of ourliterature.

John Dryden (1631-1700) was born in 1 631, in aNorthamptonshire village. He passed through West-minster School to Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1657,when Oliver Cromwell was at the height of his power, hesettled in London. His first poem of note was writtenin praise of the Protector, on the occasion of his death.Two years later the Restoration was an accomplishedfact, and Dryden's powers of versification were trans-ferred to the cause of the newly returned king. All


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his predilections, by birth and family, for the Puritancause were thrown to the winds, and henceforward hewas devoted to the fortunes of the Stuart kings.The Revolution of 1688 reduced him in circumstances,but this only increased his industry previously con-siderable as a writer. A life of toil and strainceased only when he died. The life of Dryden was,however, as uneventful as the life of the mere writerusually is. He had no heroic blood to give him thefascination of persecution which enriches the life ofMilton ; he was a plain man, not much better and

certainly no worse than the standard man of histime ; he was a Tory, and to some extent a time-server. Consequently he arouses no great enthusi-asm ; but his literary character was sturdy andstrong, his mind clear and generous, his aims not atall ignoble. His dramas often share the immoralityof the day, but he only succumbed to the currentdepravity of taste when necessity compelled himhis satires bite shrewdly, but generally deservedlyand his dignified religious poems, his lyrics and hisessays, are a sufficient atonement for his otherdelinquencies. Let us picture Dryden, then, as a mannot too squeamish, not heroic, not greatly superior tothe moral standpoint of his time; but withal adevoted, skilful, and hard-working servant of litera-

ture, one who directed the great stream into a newcountry, and fertilised the land which was to producethe great men of the eighteenth century.

2. Dryden's First Period (1658-81). Dryden'sfirst poems of note were his heroic stanzas on theDeath 0/ CromweH (i6$8),and his Astrcea Redux {1660),a poem on the coronation of Charles the Second. Bothare written in heroic verse, and the poet thus earlyproves his complete mastery of the metre which hewas so largely to employ in all his subsequent verse-writing, and which, taken up after him by Pope, wasto become the metre regnant in English poetry for


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more than a generation. At once Dryden displaysthe masculine strength and versatility of expressionwhich never failed him. It is not necessary to accuse

the poet of double-mindedness on the appearance ofhis panegyric on Cromwell, and the joyous welcomeaccorded to Charles the Second less than two yearsafterwards. His praise of the Lord Protector doesnot lack sincerity, and its fine feeling is duly temperedwith restraint. But the Restoration, when it came,undoubtedly came as the fulfilment of the scarcely

concealeddesire

of the majority of the peopleCromwell had ruled well, but the Puritan ideal wastoo stern and too austere for average human natureand Dryden expressed the genuine feeling, not aloneof himself, but of the nation, when he gave his poeticwelcome to the king. But both these poems, admir-able as they are, sank into the shade with the appear-ance of Annus Mirabilis (1666). The Great Plague,followed by the Great Fire in London, temporarilyclosed the theatres. Relieved from the pressure ofthe demand for new plays, Dryden could againtemporarily turn his attention to non- dramaticpoetry; and in this poem of more than 1200 lineshe tells of the sea-fighting with the Dutch, and of theawful ruin wrought by the great fire in the City of

London. The poem is dedicated to the Lord Mayorand Court of Aldermen, the Sheriffs and CommonCouncil of London, who had so admirably learnedto submit themselves "with that humility to thejudgments of heaven, and at the same time to raise[themselves] with that vigour above all humanenergies ; to be combated at once from above andfrom below ; to be struck down and to triumph : [sothat] I know not where such trials have been everparalleled in any nation ; the resolution and successesof them never can be." Pepys bought the poem on2nd February 1667, and tells us that he was very wellpleased that night with reading it, for it was " a very


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good poem." Its abundance of illustration, its happy-fancy, its felicitous phrasing, entitle it to this praise

but in it Dryden still exhibits, as in his earlier work,

a tendency to " conceits " after the manner of Donneand Cowley. Though a master-hand is here, it doesnot yet wield the pen with that perfection of artwhich a little later is to be revealed, and which thenext fourteen years of practice in dramatic poetryenabled it to acquire. His next great poem,Absalom and Achitophel, is separated from its prede-cessors

byyears of grinding toil in the production of

plays to please the public of London, and to putmuch-needed money into his own pocket.

8, Dryden the Plajrwright. Dryden took to play-writing for the simple purpose of earning money andwinning public reputation and court favour. Hehad little or no natural impulse towards the creationof dramas ; he thought himself but poorly equipped forthe undertaking ; and he had no particular ambitionto excel in this department of literature. Of hisnumerous plays, he tells us that he wrote but one toplease himself. But the Restoration was immediatelyfollowed by the reopening of the theatres. Thecourt and the public demanded plays, and he whocould successfully cater for the popular demand was

sure of his pecuniary reward. Dryden's first play,The Wild Gallant, appeared in 1663 ; and Pepys,who saw it, declared it "as poor a thing as I eversaw in my life." It was followed by the Rival Ladies,hardly more successful ; and this, again, by the IndianEmperor (1665), which proved very popular, andshares with Tyrannical Love and the Conquest ofGranada (1670) the distinction of being the bestexample of the English "heroic play."

In plays such as these the attempt was unsuccess-fully made to interest the audience in abstractionsrather than in real characters, and to present men andwomen of" heroic " mould rather than men and women


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down into vulgar and licentious farce. There ismuch wit in them, often good sentiment, but seldomthat unity of feeling necessary to bind the whole into

one well-knit piece. Even in Corneille there is muchmore than a tendency to rhetorical excess, and thestyle is always tuned in a too elevated key. But thegeneral movement of his plays is rarely undignifiedit is heroic without absurdity, moving without con-straint. But in Dryden there is often too much rantand bustle, whilst the speeches put into the mouth

of some of the characters frequently degenerate intopure bombast. As we read them to-day, such playsverge towards the ridiculous ; they make no approachnor do they pretend to do so to the truth ofnature and of reason, not even to probability ; yet itwould appear that the audiences to whom they werepresented were, on the whole, pleased with them, sogreat was the change in the tone of the theatre-goerwho, sixty years previously, had delighted in the en-during creations of Shakespeare or of Marlowe. Hethought that what he heard was grand and heroiche could not perceive that it was the ass's bray thatbawled so loudly from the lion's skin.

If indeed the plays of the great English masterswere presented at all, it was necessary that they

should be paraphrased or recast, and so brought tothe level of the intelligence or taste of the age. InAll for Love (1678) Dryden presents us with one ofthe most successful adaptations from Shakespeare,the story being that of Antony and Cleopatra. Hetells us that it was the only play he wrote entirelyto please himself; the subject was congenial to him,and the achievement is one of his best in dramaticauthorship. But it has only to be compared with itsgreat original for the inferiority of the "heroic"mould to be discovered. Yet Dryden has handledhis subject and applied the method with nothingshort of genius. There is much fire and passion in


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his lines ; the sentiment is elevated, whilst some ofthe characters are finely conceived. Cleopatra, indeed,is not the heroine Shakespeare made of her, wonder-ously fascinating and yet a woman throughout;Dryden's heroine is a less exalted figure, yet she isintensely passionate and sensuous. Ventidius isfinely drawn, too, though he is thrown into greaterprominence than is good for the supereminencewhich should always have been preserved for Antonyand Cleopatra, the hero and heroine of the play. Ifin this

play we find Dryden at his best in adaptingShakespeare to his own age, in Troilus and Cressida(1679) and The Tempest, he is almost at his worst.It is pathetic to read these recasts and to rememberthat the miserable resurrection-pie was intended tobe was thought by Dryden to be an improvementupon the original banquet. Compare All for Lovewith Antony and Cleopatra, and we can realise howfalse was Dryden's ideal of the English drama. Andthis is quite clear, notwithstanding the fact thatDryden did not hamper All for Love with rime.Here we may make mention of the State of Innocence(1674), which Dryden described as an opera, and inwhich he tried to tell the story developed in Milton'sParadise Lost. The piece was never acted, nor doesit add greatly to the poet's reputation ; but it gavehim the occasion to express his admiration forMilton, which was deep and sincere. In his prefaceto the play he describes Milton's poem as "un-doubtedly one of the greatest, most noble, andsublime poems which either this age or nation has pro-duced." This opinion was not yet a general one, andDryden deserves great credit for his critical insight.

Two years after the appearance of the Conquest ofGranada Dryden produced his best comedyMarriage a la Mode. The idea of the plot is highlycomic that of a married pair, Rodophil and Doralice,who imagine themselves tired of each other. It proves


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that they need only the excitement of a little jealousyto put matters right ; and provision is made for thisin the introduction of Palamede, a friend of Rodophil,

and Melantha, to whom Palamede is to be married.Rodophil makes love to Melantha, whilst Palamede,who is greatly disturbed by the thought of his fast-approaching marriage, seeks relief in making love toDoralice. Much comedy but no harm results fromthe cross-purposes of these four. The wit is sparkling,and in places the poetry has exceptional charm.

But unfortunately the comedyis

written accordingto

the taste of the times, and it is unpleasant to read asa whole.

The last of Dryden's rimed heroic tragedies wasAurungzebe (1675), and it achieved an unusual andwell-merited success, though the plot lacks somewhatof coherence. The poetry presents passages of greatbeauty and power. The following, though oftenquoted, will bear repeating :

When I consider life, 'tis all a cheatYet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceitTrust on, and think to-morrow will repay :To-morrow's falser than the former day ;Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blestWith some new joys, cuts off what we possest.Strange cozenage ! None would live past years again.

Yet all hope of pleasure in what yet remain ;And, from the dregs of life, think to receive,What the first sprightly running could not give.I'm tired of waiting for this chemic gold.Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.

In his prologue to this play, Dryden states that, " toconfess a truth, though out of time," he

Grows weary of his long-loved mistress Rhyme,Passions too fierce to be in fetters bound,And nature flies him like enchanted ground ;What verse can do, he has performed in this.Which he presumes the most correct of his ;But spite of all his pride, a secret shameInvades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name.


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achieved in verse what the character-writers of theearlier part of the century had made so fashionableanexercise in prose. His poem is a succession of such" characters " lightly strung together, each a perfectpiece of work. The verse displays that wonderful com-mand over the heroic couplet which Dryden exhibitedin his earliest poems ; but the ease and finish are theproduct of the long years of practice he had since hadin his dramatic composition. The satire is keen andincisive as a blade of the most finely tempered steel.And the flow of the narrative is easy and unimpeded ;the piece runs smoothly, and carries the reader withunsuspected rapidity from couplet to cou

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