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It is not a part of the plan of this book to present any extended bibliography, but there are certain reference books to which the student's attention should be called.
Toward democracy
Arnold took, not Carlyle's attitude of definite opposition, but one
of questioning scrutiny. He found that one actual tendency of modern
democracy was to 'let people do as they liked,' which, given the crude
violence of the Populace, naturally resulted in lawlessness and therefore
threatened anarchy. Culture, on the other hand, includes the strict
discipline of the will and the sacrifice of one's own impulses for the
good of all, which means respect for Law and devotion to the State.
Existing democracy, therefore, he attacked with unsparing irony, but
he did not condemn its principle. One critic has said that 'his ideal
of a State can best be described as an Educated Democracy, working by
Collectivism in Government, Religion and Social Order.' But in his own
writings he scarcely gives expression to so definite a conception.
Arnold's doctrine,
of course, was not perfectly comprehensive nor free from prejudices;
but none could be essentially more useful for his generation or ours.
We may readily grant that it is, in one sense or another, a doctrine
for chosen spirits, but if history makes anything clear it is that chosen
spirits are the necessary instruments of all progress and therefore
the chief hope of society.
The differences
between Arnold's teaching and that of his two great contemporaries are
probably now clear. All three are occupied with the pressing necessity
of regenerating society. Carlyle would accomplish this end by means
of great individual characters inspired by confidence in the spiritual
life and dominating their times by moral strength; Ruskin would accomplish
it by humanizing social conditions and spiritualizing and refining all
men's natures through devotion to the principles of moral Right and
esthetic Beauty; Arnold would leaven the crude mass of society, so far
as possible, by permeating it with all the myriad influences of spiritual,
moral, and esthetic culture. All three, of course, like every enlightened
reformer, are aiming at ideal conditions which can be actually realized
only in the distant future.
Arnold's style
is one of the most charming features of his work. Clear, direct, and
elegant, it reflects most attractively his own high breeding; but it
is also eminently forceful, and marked by very skilful emphasis and
reiteration. One of his favorite devices is a pretense of great humility,
which is only a shelter from which he shoots forth incessant and pitiless
volleys of ironical raillery, light and innocent in appearance, but
irresistible in aim and penetrating power. He has none of the gorgeousness
of Ruskin or the titanic strength of Carlyle, but he can be finely eloquent,
and he is certainly one of the masters of polished effectiveness.
ALFRED TENNYSON.
In poetry,
apart from the drama, the Victorian period is the greatest in English
literature. Its most representative, though not its greatest, poet is
Alfred Tennyson. Tennyson, the fourth of a large family of children,
was born in Somersby, Lincolnshire, in 1809. That year, as it happened,
is distinguished by the birth of a large number of eminent men, among
them Gladstone, Darwin, and Lincoln. Tennyson's father was a clergyman,
holding his appointments from a member of the landed gentry; his mother
was peculiarly gentle and benevolent. From childhood the poet, though
physically strong, was moody and given to solitary dreaming; from early
childhood also he composed poetry, and when he was seventeen he and
one of his elder brothers brought out a volume of verse, immature, but
of distinct poetic feeling and promise. The next year they entered Trinity
College, Cambridge, where Tennyson, too reserved for public prominence,
nevertheless developed greatly through association with a gifted group
of students. Called home by the fatal illness of his father shortly
before his four year's were completed, he decided, as Milton had done,
and as Browning was even then doing, to devote himself to his art; but,
like Milton, he equipped himself, now and throughout his life, by hard
and systematic study of many of the chief branches of knowledge, including
the sciences. His next twenty years were filled with difficulty and
sorrow. Two volumes of poems which he published in 1830 and 1832 were
greeted by the critics with their usual harshness, which deeply wounded
his sensitive spirit and checked his further publication for ten years;
though the second of these volumes contains some pieces which, in their
later, revised, form, are among his chief lyric triumphs. In 1833 his
warm friend Arthur Hallam, a young man of extraordinary promise, who
was engaged, moreover, to one of Tennyson's sisters, died suddenly without
warning. Tennyson's grief, at first overwhelming, was long a main factor
in his life and during many years found slow artistic expression in
'In Memoriam' and other poems. A few years later came another deep sorrow.
Tennyson formed an engagement of marriage with Miss Emily Sellwood,
but his lack of worldly prospects led her relatives to cancel it.
Tennyson now
spent much of his time in London, on terms of friendship with many literary
men, including Carlyle, who almost made an exception in his favor from
his general fanatical contempt for poetry. In 1842 Tennyson published
two volumes of poems, including the earlier ones revised; he here won
an undoubted popular success and was accepted by the best judges as
the chief living productive English poet. Disaster followed in the shape
of an unfortunate financial venture which for a time reduced his family
to serious straits and drove him with shattered nerves to a sanitarium.
Soon, however, he received from the government as a recognition of his
poetic achievement a permanent annual pension of two hundred pounds,
and in 1847 he published the strange but delightful 'Princess.' The
year 1850 marked the decisive turning point of his career. He was enabled
to renew his engagement and be married; the publication of 'In Memoriam'
established him permanently in a position of such popularity as few
living poets have ever enjoyed; and on the death of Wordsworth he was
appointed Poet Laureate.
The prosperity
of the remaining half of his life was a full recompense for his earlier
struggles, though it is marked by few notable external events. Always
a lover of the sea, he soon took up his residence in the Isle of Wight.
His production of poetry was steady, and its variety great. The largest
of all his single achievements was the famous series of 'Idylls of the
King,' which formed a part of his occupation for many years. In much
of his later work there is a marked change from his earlier elaborate
decorativeness to a style of vigorous strength. At the age of sixty-five,
fearful that he had not yet done enough to insure his fame, he gave
a remarkable demonstration of poetic vitality by striking out into the
to him new field of poetic drama. His important works here are the three
tragedies in which he aimed to complete the series of Shakspere's chronicle-history
plays; but he lacked the power of dramatic action, and the result is
rather three fine poems than successful plays. In 1883, after having
twice refused a baronetcy, he, to the regret of his more democratic
friends, accepted a peerage (barony). Tennyson disliked external show,
but he was always intensely loyal to the institutions of England, he
felt that literature was being honored in his person, and he was willing
to secure a position of honor for his son, who had long rendered him
devoted service. He died quietly in 1892, at the age of eighty-three,
and was buried in Westminster Abbey beside Browning, who had found a
resting-place there three years earlier. His personal character, despite
some youthful morbidness, was unusually delightful, marked by courage,
honesty, sympathy, and straightforward manliness. He had a fine voice
and took undisguised pleasure in reading his poems aloud. The chief
traits of his poetry in form and substance may be suggested in a brief
summary.
1. Most
characteristic, perhaps, is his exquisite artistry (in which he learned
much from Keats). His appreciation for sensuous beauty, especially color,
is acute; his command of poetic phraseology is unsurpassed; he suggests
shades of, feeling and elusive aspiration with, marvelously subtile
power; his descriptions are magnificently beautiful, often with much
detail; and his melody is often the perfection of sweetness. Add the
truth and tenderness of his emotion, and it results that he is one of
the finest and most moving of lyric poets. Nor is all this beauty vague
and unsubstantial. Not only was he the most careful of English poets,
revising his works with almost unprecedented pains, but his scientific
habit of mind insists on the greatest accuracy; in his allusions to
Nature he often introduces scientific facts in a way thitherto unparalleled,
and sometimes even only doubtfully poetic. The influence of the classic
literatures on his style and expression was great; no poet combines
more harmoniously classic perfection and romantic feeling.
2. The
variety of his poetic forms is probably greater than that of any other
English poet. In summary catalogue may be named: lyrics, both delicate
and stirring; ballads; romantic dreams and fancies; descriptive poems;
sentimental reveries, and idyls; long narratives, in which he displays
perfect narrative skill; delightfully realistic character-sketches,
some of them in dialect; dramas; and meditative poems, long and short,
on religious, ethical, and social questions. In almost all these forms
he has produced numerous masterpieces.
3. His
chief deficiency is in the dramatic quality. No one can present more
finely than he moods (often carefully set in a harmoniously appropriate
background of external nature) or characters in stationary position;
and there is splendid spirit in his narrative passages of vigorous action.
Nevertheless his genius and the atmosphere of his poems are generally
dreamy, romantic, and aloof from actual life. A brilliant critic [Footnote:
Professor Lewis E. Gates in a notable essay, 'Studies and Appreciations,'
p. 71.] has caustically observed that he 'withdraws from the turmoil
of the real universe into the fortress of his own mind, and beats the
enemy in toy battles with toy soldiers.' He never succeeded in presenting
to the satisfaction of most good critics a vigorous man in vigorous
action.
4. The
ideas of his poetry are noble and on the whole clear. He was an independent
thinker, though not an innovator, a conservative liberal, and was so
widely popular because he expressed in frank but reverent fashion the
moderately advanced convictions of his time. His social ideals, in which
he is intensely interested, are those of Victorian humanitarianism.
He hopes ardently for a steady amelioration of the condition of the
masses, proceeding toward a time when all men shall have real opportunity
for full development; and freedom is one of his chief watchwords. But
with typical English conservatism he believes that progress must be
gradual, and that it should be controlled by order, loyalty, and reverence.
Like a true Englishman, also, he is sure that the institutions of England
are the best in the world, so that he is a strong supporter of the monarchy
and the hereditary aristocracy. In religion, his inherited belief, rooted
in his deepest fibers, early found itself confronted by the discoveries
of modern science, which at first seemed to him to proclaim that the
universe is much what it seemed to the young Carlyle, a remorseless
monster, 'red in tooth and claw,' scarcely thinkable as the work of
a Christian God who cares for man. Tennyson was too sincere to evade
the issue, and after years of inner struggle he arrived at a positive
faith in the central principles of Christianity, broadly interpreted,
though it was avowedly a faith based on instinct and emotional need
rather than on unassailable reasoning. His somewhat timid disposition,
moreover, never allowed him to enunciate his conclusions with anything
like the buoyant aggressiveness of his contemporary, Robert Browning.
How greatly science had influenced his point of view appears in the
conception which is central in his later poetry, namely that the forces
of the universe are governed by unchanging Law, through which God works.
The best final expression of his spirit is the lyric 'Crossing the Bar,'
which everyone knows and which at his own request is printed last in
all editions of his works.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AND ROBERT BROWNING.
Robert Browning,
Tennyson's chief poetic contemporary, stands in striking artistic contrast
to Tennyson--a contrast which perhaps serves to enhance the reputation
of both. Browning's life, if not his poetry, must naturally be considered
in connection with that of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, with whom he
was united in what appears the most ideal marriage of two important
writers in the history of literature.
Elizabeth Barrett,
the daughter of a country gentleman of Herefordshire (the region of
the Malvern Hills and of 'Piers Plowman'), was born in 1806. She was
naturally both healthy and intellectually precocious; the writing of
verse and outdoor life divided all her early life, and at seventeen
she published, a volume of immature poems. At fifteen, however, her
health was impaired by an accident which happened as she was saddling
her pony, and at thirty, after a removal of the family to London, it
completely failed. From that time on for ten years she was an invalid,
confined often to her bed and generally to her chamber, sometimes apparently
at the point of death. Nevertheless she kept on with persistent courage
and energy at her study and writing. The appearance of her poems in
two volumes in 1844 gave her a place among the chief living poets and
led to her acquaintance with Browning.
Browning was
born in a London suburb in 1812 (the same year with Dickens), of very
mixed ancestry, which may partly explain the very diverse traits in
his nature and poetry. His father, a man of artistic and cultured tastes,
held a subordinate though honorable position in the Bank of England.
The son inherited a strong instinct for all the fine arts, and though
he composed verses before he could write, seemed for years more likely
to become a musician than a poet. His formal schooling was irregular,
but he early began to acquire from his father's large and strangely-assorted
library the vast fund of information which astonishes the reader of
his poetry, and he too lived a healthy out-of-door life. His parents
being Dissenters, the universities were not open to him, and when he
was seventeen his father somewhat reluctantly consented to his own unhesitating
choice of poetry as a profession. For seventeen years more he continued
in his father's home, living a normal life among his friends, writing
continuously, and gradually acquiring a reputation among some good critics,
but making very little impression on the public. Some of his best short
poems date from these years, such as 'My Last Duchess' and 'The Bishop
Orders His Tomb'; but his chief effort went into a series of seven or
eight poetic dramas, of which 'Pippa Passes' is best known and least
dramatic. They are noble poetry, but display in marked degree the psychological
subtilety which in part of his poetry demands unusually close attention
from the reader.
In one of the
pieces in her volumes of 1844 Elizabeth Barrett mentioned Browning,
among other poets, with generous praise. This led to a correspondence
between the two, and soon to a courtship, in which Browning's earnestness
finally overcame Miss Barrett's scrupulous hesitation to lay upon him
(as she felt) the burden of her invalidism. Indeed her invalidism at
last helped to turn the scales in Browning's favor, for the physicians
had declared that Miss Barrett's life depended on removal to a warmer
climate, but to this her father, a well-intentioned but strangely selfish
man, absolutely refused to consent. The record of the courtship is given
in Mrs. Browning's 'Sonnets from the Portuguese' (a whimsical title,
suggested by Mrs. Browning's childhood nickname, 'The Little Portuguese'),
which is one of the finest of English sonnet-sequences. The marriage,
necessarily clandestine, took place in 1846; Mrs. Browning's father
thenceforth treated her as one dead, but the removal from her morbid
surroundings largely restored her health for the remaining fifteen years
of her life. During these fifteen years the two poets resided chiefly
in various cities of Italy, with a nominal home in Florence, and Mrs.
Browning had an inherited income which sufficed for their support until
their poetry became profitable. Their chief works during this period
were Mrs. Browning's 'Aurora Leigh' (1856), a long 'poetic novel' in
blank verse dealing with the relative claims of Art and Social Service
and with woman's place in the world; and Browning's most important single
publication, his two volumes of 'Men and Women' (1855), containing fifty
poems, many of them among his very best.
Mrs. Browning
was passionately interested in the Italian struggle for independence
against Austrian tyranny, and her sudden death in 1861 seems to have
been hastened by that of the Italian statesman Cavour. Browning, at
first inconsolable, soon returned with his son to London, where he again
made his home, for the rest of his life. Henceforth he published much
poetry, for the most part long pieces of subtile psychological and spiritual
analysis. In 1868-9 he brought out his characteristic masterpiece, 'The
Ring and the Book,' a huge psychological epic, which proved the tardy
turning point in his reputation. People might not understand the poem,
but they could not disregard it, the author became famous, almost popular,
and a Browning cult arose, marked by the spread of Browning societies
in both England and America. Browning enjoyed his success for twenty
years and died quietly in 1889 at the home of his son in Venice.
Browning earnestly
reciprocated his wife's loyal devotion and seemed really to believe,
as he often insisted, that her poetry was of a higher order than his
own. Her achievement, indeed, was generally overestimated, in her own
day and later, but it is now recognized that she is scarcely a really
great artist. Her intense emotion, her fine Christian idealism, and
her very wide reading give her real power; her womanly tenderness is
admirable; and the breadth of her interests and sometimes the clearness
of her judgment are notable; but her secluded life of ill-health rendered
her often sentimental, high-strung, and even hysterical. She has in
her the impulses and material of great poetry, but circumstances and
her temperament combined to deny her the patient self-discipline necessary
for the best results. She writes vehemently to assert the often-neglected
rights of women and children or to denounce negro slavery and all oppression;
and sometimes, as when in 'The Cry of the Children' she revealed the
hideousness of child-labor in the factories, she is genuine and irresistible;
but more frequently she produces highly romantic or mystical imaginary
narrations (often in medieval settings). She not seldom mistakes enthusiasm
or indignation for artistic inspiration, and she is repeatedly and inexcusably
careless in meter and rime. Perhaps her most satisfactory poems, aside
from those above mentioned, are 'The Vision of Poets' and 'The Rime
of the Duchess May.'
In considering
the poetry of Robert Browning the inevitable first general point is
the nearly complete contrast with Tennyson. For the melody and exquisite
beauty of phrase and description which make so large a part of Tennyson's
charm, Browning cares very little; his chief merits as an artist lie
mostly where Tennyson is least strong; and he is a much more independent
and original thinker than Tennyson. This will become more evident in
a survey of his main characteristics.
1. Browning
is the most thoroughly vigorous and dramatic of all great poets who
employ other forms than the actual drama. Of his hundreds of poems the
great majority set before the reader a glimpse of actual life and human
personalities--an action, a situation, characters, or a character--in
the clearest and most vivid possible way. Sometimes the poem is a ringing
narration of a fine exploit, like 'How They Brought the Good News';
sometimes it is quieter and more reflective. Whatever the style, however,
in the great majority of cases Browning employs the form which without
having actually invented it he developed into an instrument of thitherto
unsuspected power, namely the dramatic monolog in which a character
discusses his situation or life or some central part or incident, of
it, under circumstances which reveal with wonderful completeness its
significance and his own essential character. To portray and interpret
life in this way, to give his readers a sudden vivid understanding of
its main forces and conditions in representative moments, may be called
the first obvious purpose, or perhaps rather instinct, of Browning and
his poetry. The dramatic economy of space which he generally attains
in his monologs is marvelous. In 'My Last Duchess' sixty lines suffice
to etch into our memories with incredible completeness and clearness
two striking characters, an interesting situation, and the whole of
a life's tragedy.
2. Despite
his power over external details it is in the human characters, as the
really significant and permanent elements of life, that Browning is
chiefly interested; indeed he once declared directly that the only thing
that seemed to him worth while was the study of souls. The number and
range of characters that he has portrayed are unprecedented, and so
are the keenness, intenseness, and subtilety of the analysis. Andrea
del Sarto, Fra Lippo Lippi, Cleon, Karshish, Balaustion, and many scores
of others, make of his poems a great gallery of portraits unsurpassed
in interest by those of any author whatever except Shakspere. It is
little qualification of his achievement to add that all his persons
are somewhat colored by his own personality and point of view, or that
in his later poetry he often splits hairs very ingeniously in his effort
to understand and present sympathetically the motives of all characters,
even the worst. These are merely some of the secondary aspects of his
peculiar genius. Browning's favorite heroes and heroines, it should
be added, are men and women much like himself, of strong will and decisive
power of action, able to take the lead vigorously and unconventionally
and to play controlling parts in the drama of life.
3. The
frequent comparative difficulty of Browning's poetry arises in large
part first from the subtilety of his thought and second from the obscurity
of his subject-matter and his fondness for out-of-the-way characters.
It is increased by his disregard of the difference between his own extraordinary
mental power and agility on the one hand and on the other the capacity
of the average person, a disregard which leads him to take much for
granted that most readers are obliged to study out with no small amount
of labor. Moreover Browning was hasty in composition, corrected his
work little, if at all, and was downright careless in such details as
sentence structure. But the difficulty arising from these various eccentricities
occurs chiefly in his longer poems, and often serves mainly as a mental
stimulus. Equally striking, perhaps, is his frequent grotesqueness in
choice of subject and in treatment, which seems to result chiefly from
his wish to portray the world as it actually is, keeping in close touch
with genuine everyday reality; partly also from his instinct to break
away from placid and fiberless conventionality.
4. Browning
is decidedly one of those who hold the poet to be a teacher, and much,
indeed most, of his poetry is occupied rather directly with the questions
of religion and the deeper meanings of life. Taken all together, that
is, his poetry constitutes a very extended statement of his philosophy
of life. The foundation of his whole theory is a confident and aggressive
optimism. He believes, partly on the basis of intellectual reasoning,
but mainly on what seems to him the convincing testimony of instinct,
that the universe is controlled by a loving God, who has made life primarily
a thing of happiness for man. Man should accept life with gratitude
and enjoy to the full all its possibilities. Evil exists only to demonstrate
the value of Good and to develop character, which can be produced only
by hard and sincere struggle. Unlike Tennyson, therefore, Browning has
full confidence in present reality--he believes that life on earth is
predominantly good. Nevertheless earthly life is evidently incomplete
in itself, and the central law of existence is Progress, which gives
assurance of a future life where man may develop the spiritual nature
which on earth seems to have its beginning and distinguishes man from
the brutes. This future life, however, is probably not one but many,
a long succession of lives, the earlier ones not so very different,
perhaps, from the present one on earth; and even the worst souls, commencing
the next life, perhaps, as a result of their failure here, at a spiritual
stage lower than the present one, must ultimately pass through all stages
of the spiritual process, and come to stand with all the others near
the perfection of God himself. This whole theory, which, because later
thought has largely adopted it from Browning, seems much less original
to-day than when he first propounded it, is stated and reiterated in
his poems with a dynamic idealizing power which, whether or not one
assents to it in details, renders it magnificently stimulating. It is
rather fully expressed as a whole, in two of Browning's best known and
finest poems, 'Rabbi ben Ezra,' and 'Abt Vogler.' Some critics, it should
be added, however, feel that Browning is too often and too insistently
a teacher in his poetry and that his art would have gained if he had
introduced his philosophy much more incidentally.