THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

I saw them in my dream, so far as this valley reached, there was, on the right hand, a very deep ditch; that ditch it is into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, behold, on the left hand, there was a very dangerous quag, into which even if a good man falls, he finds no bottom for his feet to stand on: into that quag King David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out. The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and therefore good Christian was the more put to it: for when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other;also, when he sought to escape the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly; for besides the danger mentioned above, the pathway here was so dark, that oft-times when he lifted up his foot to set forward, he knew not where, or upon what, he should set it next. About the midst of the valley I perceived the mouth of Hell to be; and it stood also hard by the way-side. And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises, that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer. So he cried, in my hearing, “O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.” Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards him. Also he heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro; so that sometimes he thought he should be torn to pieces or trodden down like mire in the streets.The Pilgrim’s Progress

The Pilgrim’s Progress

2. Lord Halifax (1633–95).Halifax was an outstanding figure in the House of Lords during the exciting times of the Exclusion Bills, of which he was the chief opponent. He ranks high as an orator; as an author his fame rests on a small volume calledMiscellanies. The book contains a number of political tracts, such asThe Character of a Trimmer, and a piece of a more general character calledAdvice to a Daughter. In his writings Halifax adopts the manner and attitude of the typical man of the world: a moderation of statement, a cool and agreeably acid humor, and a style devoid of flourishes. In him we find a decided approach to the essay-manner of Addison.

3. Sir William Temple (1628–99).Temple also was a politician of some importance, filled diplomatic posts abroad, and was a moderate success in affairs at home. He is an example of the moneyed, leisured semi-amateur in literature. He wrote little and elegantly, as a gentleman should, and patronized authors of lesser fortune and greater genius. His best work is hisEssay on Poetry. His style resembles that of Halifax in its mundane, cultured reticence; but at times he has higher flights, in which he shows some skill in the handling of melodious and rhythmic prose.

4. John Tillotson (1630–94).In Tillotson we have one of the popular preachers of the time, and hisSermonsis mentioned by Addison as being a standard work of its class. He is a literary descendant of the great school of Jeremy Taylor and Thomas Fuller, but his style lacks their richness and melody, though it gains in clearness and crispness.

5. The Diarists.By a coincidence it happened that the two most famous diary-writers in English were working at the same time, and during this period. Not dissimilar in several respects, their works show both the drawbacks and the advantages of the diary manner. The books are private documents, and so have no formal pretensions to literary excellence in style, which is not an undiluted misfortune. Yet the style is often ragged and incoherent, and much reading at it produces a feeling of flatness and monotony. But, on the other hand, being private jottings, they are intimate, and so are interesting, full of information concerning public and personal affairs, and containing illuminating comments on people and incidents.

(a) Of the twoSamuel Pepys (1633–1703)is the less worthy as a man, but his very human quality makes him the livelier and the more interesting. By occupation he was a kind of civil servant in the Admiralty, and prospered so well that he became a member of Parliament and Secretary to the Admiralty. His diary, which was meant to be strictly personal, was written in cipher, and the reading of it gives one the impression of surreptitiously peeping into his back window when the blinds are up. By a multitude of detail the book shows Pepys to have been mean and lustful; vain and trivial; ambitious, and yet without the resolution that should attend it. Yet withal he is intensely human and alive, full of a magpie alertness; and in addition he has the gift of inspiring in his readers the same vividness of curiosity. We could ill spare Pepys from among those mortals who have become immortal in their own despite.

May 1st, 1669—Up betimes. Called by my tailor, and here first put on a summer suit this year; but it was not my fine one of flowered tabby vest and coloured camelot tunic, because it was too fine with the gold lace at the bands, that I was afraid to be seen in it; but put on the stuff suit I made the last year, which is now repaired; and so did go to the office in it, and sat all the morning, the day looking as if it would be foul. At noon home to dinner, and there find my wife extraordinary fine, with her flowered tabby gown that she made two years ago, now laced exceeding pretty; and, indeed, was fine all over; and mighty earnest to go, though the day was very lowering; and she would have me put on my fine suit, which I did. And so anon we went alone through the town with our new liveries of serge, and the horses’ manes and tails tied with red ribbons, and the standards gilt with varnish, and all clean, and green reins, that people did mightily look upon us; and, the truth is, I did not see any coach more pretty, though more gay, than ours all the day.

(b)John Evelyn (1620–1706)is the other diarist, and is much more respectable and much less amusing than Pepys. His diary is a more finished production in the matter of style, and may have been produced with an eye on the public. The style is only moderate in quality, and has little of the freshness that distinguishes Pepys’. The diary, however, is full of accurate information, and in some of the more moving incidents, such as that of the Great Fire, it warms into something like real eloquence.

Viewed as a whole, this period is seen to be one of transition; and, being so, it is to a large extent one of stagnation, time’s dead low-water. The Elizabethan fervor had spent itself, and the new classicism was still in the making. Yet the time is important in the development of literary forms and style.

1. Poetry.(a)The Lyric.The form of the lyric shows little change. In bulk it is inconsiderable, for the lyrical spirit is largely in abeyance. Outside Dryden, who is the best example of the lyrical bard, we have the slight work of the courtiers, theEarl of Dorset (1637–1706), theEarl of Rochester (1647–80), andSir Charles Sedley (16391701).These were fashionable men, taking their poetry with fashionable irresponsibility. Their poems, which nearly all deal with the love-theme in an artificial manner, have a decided charm and skill, being modeled on the Caroline poems that were the mode before the Civil War. Of real originality there is hardly a trace.

(b)The Ode.Once more Dryden towers pre-eminent in this class of poem. His two odes on the anniversary of St. Cecilia’s Day and his other ode on the death of Mrs. Anne Killigrew are among the best of any period. Written in the irregular Pindaric meter, they are full of the high passion that gives the artificial medium some real fire and energy. We give the opening lines of the elegiac poem:

Thou youngest Virgin-Daughter of the skies,Made in the last promotion of the blest;Whose palms, new plucked from Paradise,In spreading branches more sublimely rise,Rich with immortal green above the rest:Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,Thou roll’st above us in thy wandering race,Or in procession fixed and regularMoved with the heaven’s majestic pace,Or called to more superior bliss,Thou tread’st with seraphim the vast abyss.

Thou youngest Virgin-Daughter of the skies,

Made in the last promotion of the blest;

Whose palms, new plucked from Paradise,

In spreading branches more sublimely rise,

Rich with immortal green above the rest:

Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,

Thou roll’st above us in thy wandering race,

Or in procession fixed and regular

Moved with the heaven’s majestic pace,

Or called to more superior bliss,

Thou tread’st with seraphim the vast abyss.

(c)The Satire.Several circumstances combined to make this age abound in satirical writing. It was a period of bitter political and personal contention, of easy morals and subdued enthusiasms, of sharp wit and acute discrimination. For these reasons satire acquired a new importance and a sharper edge.

The older satire, such as is represented in the poems of Donne and of Andrew Marvell (1621–78), was of a more general kind, and seemed to have been written with deliberate clumsiness and obscurity. These habits were repugnant to the ideals of the new age, whose satire is more personal and more vindictive. Its effect is immensely more incisive, and it obtains a new freshness and point by the use of the heroic couplet, in which it is almostwholly written. Dryden’sAbsalom and Achitophelis an excellent example of the political satire, while hisMacFlecknoeshows the personal type. Literary satire is also well represented inThe Rehearsal(1671), which parodied the literary vices of the time, especially those of the heroic play. This work, which was reproduced year after year, with topical hits in every new edition, was the work of several hands, though the Duke of Buckingham receives the chief credit. Butler’sHudibrasis a satire on the Puritans. The miscellaneous satire of John Oldham (1653–83) had much of the earlier clumsiness.

(d)Narrative poetry.Dryden’s translations and adaptations of Chaucer, Virgil, Ovid, and Boccaccio are the chief examples of this form. Among others, he gives us Chaucer’sWife of Bath’s Tale,The Knight’s Tale, and several tales from Boccaccio. There is no fresh development to record. Butler’sHudibrasis narrative of a kind, though the chief interest is satirical.

2. Drama.The development of the drama is considerable. We summarize briefly what has already been indicated.

(a) Intragedythe most novel in the matter of form is theheroic play, whose peculiarities have already been pointed out on p.199. There is little further development. The tragical faculty is weakening all through the period, even in comparison with the post-Shakespearian plays. This type of play is best represented by Dryden’sAll for Loveand Otway’sVenice Preserved. The characters are becoming more stagy, and the situations are made as horrible as the ingenuity of the dramatist can devise.

(b) Incomedythe advance is noteworthy. The comedy of “humors” is dying out, though considerable traces of it are still visible. The influence of the French is giving the comedy a new “snap” and glitter, and the almost universal medium is prose. Congreve’sWay of the World(1700), Wycherley’sCountry Wife(1675), and Farquhar’sBeaux’ Stratagem(1707) are good examples.

3. Prose.With the exception of the work of Dryden and Bunyan, the prose work of the time is of little moment. Dryden’s prose is almost entirely devoted to literary criticism; Bunyan’s contribution shows a remarkable development of the prose allegory. The remainder of the prose-writers deal with political and miscellaneous subjects, with, in addition, some theological and historical writing.

The main tendency of the age, in all departments of literature, is toward a clear, plain, and forcible style.

1. Poetry.The new movement was seen most clearly in the development of theheroic couplet, which was soon to spread throughout poetry and through much of the drama. As we have seen (p.182), in the previous age the couplet had become so loose that it resembled a cross between prose and verse. An exponent of such a measure is Chamberlayne (1619–89):

Poor love must dwellWithin no climate but what’s parallelUnto our honoured births; the envied fateOf princes oft these burdens find from stateWhen lowly swains, knowing no parent’s voiceOf negative, make a free and happy choice.

Poor love must dwell

Within no climate but what’s parallel

Unto our honoured births; the envied fate

Of princes oft these burdens find from state

When lowly swains, knowing no parent’s voice

Of negative, make a free and happy choice.

This is a curious liquid measure. The pause is irregularly distributed, and the rhythm is light and easy.

Cowley and Denham likewise obtain much credit for the introduction of the new measure; but the chief innovator is Edmund Waller (1606–87). Dryden, in his dedication toThe Rival Ladiessays, “Rime has all the advantages of prose besides its own. But the excellence and dignity of it were never fully known till Mr. Waller first taught it.” An extract from Waller will suffice:

While in this park I sing, the listening deerAttend my passion, and forget to fear;When to the beeches I report my flame,They bow their heads, as if they felt the same,To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers,With loud complaints, they answer me in showers.

While in this park I sing, the listening deer

Attend my passion, and forget to fear;

When to the beeches I report my flame,

They bow their heads, as if they felt the same,

To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers,

With loud complaints, they answer me in showers.

The note here is quite different from that of the previous extract. The tread of the meter is steady and almost uniform, and the pauses cluster about the middle and the end of the lines. It must be noted, too, that a large proportion of Waller’s poetry took this form.

Dryden adopted the heroic couplet, but he improved upon the wooden respectability of his predecessors’ verse. While he retained all the couplet’s steadiness and force, he gave it an additional vigor, a sinewy elegance, and a noble rhythm and beauty. It is worth while giving another example of his couplet:

A milk-white hind, immortal and unchanged,Fed on the lawns and in the forest ranged;Without unspotted, innocent within,She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.Yet had she oft been chased with horns and houndsAnd Scythian shafts; and many winged woundsAimed at her heart; was often forced to fly,And doomed to death, though fated not to die.Dryden,The Hind and the Panther

A milk-white hind, immortal and unchanged,

Fed on the lawns and in the forest ranged;

Without unspotted, innocent within,

She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.

Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds

And Scythian shafts; and many winged wounds

Aimed at her heart; was often forced to fly,

And doomed to death, though fated not to die.

Dryden,The Hind and the Panther

In its own fashion this passage is as melodious and powerful as some of the noblest lines of Milton.

In other forms of poetry the style contains little to be commented upon. Theblank versecontinues the disintegration that (with the exception of the verse of Milton) began with the death of Shakespeare. We give a good example of this Restoration blank verse:

Through a close lane as I pursued my journey,And meditating on the last night’s vision,I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and red,And palsy shook her head; her hands seemed withered;And on her crooked shoulder had she wrappedThe tattered remnant of an old striped hanging.Otway,The Orphan

Through a close lane as I pursued my journey,

And meditating on the last night’s vision,

I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,

Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;

Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and red,

And palsy shook her head; her hands seemed withered;

And on her crooked shoulder had she wrapped

The tattered remnant of an old striped hanging.

Otway,The Orphan

In this passage we can observe the absence of the high poetic fire of the Elizabethans and the lack of the thunderous depth of Milton. Observe the regularity of the beat, the uniformity of the pauses, and the frequency of the hypermetrical ending. There is, nevertheless, a certain somber, dogged attraction about the style of the passage. The average blank verse of the time is much less regular, and much less attractive.

Thelyricstill shows a reflection of the Caroline manner, as can be seen in the following example:

Love still has something of the sea,From whence his mother rose;No time his slaves from doubt can free,Nor give their thoughts repose.They are becalmed in clearest days,And in rough weather tossed;They wither under cold delays,Or are in tempests lost.Sedley(out of seven stanzas)

Love still has something of the sea,From whence his mother rose;No time his slaves from doubt can free,Nor give their thoughts repose.

Love still has something of the sea,

From whence his mother rose;

No time his slaves from doubt can free,

Nor give their thoughts repose.

They are becalmed in clearest days,And in rough weather tossed;They wither under cold delays,Or are in tempests lost.Sedley(out of seven stanzas)

They are becalmed in clearest days,

And in rough weather tossed;

They wither under cold delays,

Or are in tempests lost.

Sedley(out of seven stanzas)

This lyric has an undoubted sweetness of expression, though it is artificial in thought.

2. Prose.Though the prose writing of the period is not great in bulk, it shows a profound change in style. Previous writers, such as Browne, Clarendon, and Hobbes, had done remarkable and beautiful work in prose, but their style had not yet found itself. It was wayward and erratic, often cumbrous and often obscure, and weighted with a Latinized construction and vocabulary. In Dryden’s time prose begins definitely to find its feet. It acquires a general utility and a permanence; it is smoothed and straightened, simplified and harmonized. This is the age of average prose, and prepares the way for the work ofSwift and Addison, who stand on the threshold of the modern prose style. Less than forty years intervene between Dryden and Sir Thomas Browne; yet Dryden and his school seem to be nearer the twentieth century than they are to Browne.

Not that Dryden’s style is flawless. It is sometimes involved and obscure; there are little slips of grammar and many slips of expression; but on the average it is of high quality, and the impression that the reader receives is one of great freshness and abounding vitality. Further examples of this good average style will be found in the work of Temple and Halifax.

In the case of Bunyan the style becomes plainer still. But it is powerful and effective, and bears the narrative nobly. Pepys and Evelyn have no pretensions to style as such, but their work is admirably expressed, and Evelyn in especial has passages of more elevated diction.

In some authors of the period we find this desire for unornamented style degenerating into coarseness and ugliness. Such a one isJeremy Collier (1650–1726), whoseShort View of the Profaneness and Immorality of the English Stage(1698) caused a great commotion in its day. It attacked the vices of the stage with such vigor that it is said to have driven some of the playwrights from their evil courses. The style of this famous book is so colloquial that it becomes in places ungrammatical.Thomas Sprat (1635–1713)was another disciple of the same school. He wrote on the newly formed Royal Society, which demanded from its members, “a close, naked, natural way of speaking.” This expresses the new development quite well. A greater man than Sprat but a fellow-member of the Royal Society, wasJohn Locke (1632–1704), who in his famousEssay concerning Human Understanding(1690) put the principle into practice. Locke’s style is bare to baldness, but it is clear. We give an example:

Some men are remarked for pleasantness in raillery; others, for apologues, and apposite, diverting stories. This is apt to be taken for the effect of pure nature, and that the rather, becauseit is not got by rules, and those who excel in either of them, never purposely set themselves to the study of it as an art to be learnt. But yet it is true, that at first some lucky hit, which took with somebody, and gained him commendation, encouraged him to try again, inclined his thoughts and endeavours that way, till at last he insensibly got a facility in it without perceiving how; and that is attributed wholly to nature, which was much more the effect of use and practice. I do not deny that natural disposition may often give the first rise to it; but that never carries a man farwithout use and exercise, and it is practice alone that brings the powers of the mind as well as those of the body to their perfection. Many a good poetic vein is buried under a trade, and never produces anything for want of improvement. We see the ways of discourse and reasoning are very different, even concerning the same matter, at court and in the university. And he that will go but from Westminster Hall to the Exchange, will find a different genius and turn in their ways of talking; and one cannot think that all whose lot fell in the city were born with different parts from those who were bred at the university or inns of court.

TABLE TO ILLUSTRATE THE DEVELOPMENT OF LITERARY FORMS

In one prominent case we have a survival of the more elaborate style of the past, and that is in the history ofGilbert Burnet (1643–1715), Bishop of Salisbury, whoseHistory of his own Timeswas published after his death. The style of the book is modeled on that of Clarendon. Burnet’s style is not of the same class as that of his predecessor: it has lapses into colloquialism; its sentences are snipped into small pieces by means of frequent colons and semicolons; and he has not Clarendon’s command of vocabulary.

1. The two following lyrics are respectively of the Restoration and the Caroline periods. Compare and contrast them in (a) subject, (b) style, and (c) meter. Summarize the effect of either of them, and say which you prefer and why you prefer it.

(1) Love in fantastic triumph sate,Whilst bleeding hearts around him flowed,For whom fresh pains he did create,And strange tyrannic power he showed.From thy bright eyes he took his fires,Which round about in sport he hurled;But ’twas from mine he took desiresEnough t’ undo the amorous world.From me he took his sighs and tears,From thee his pride and cruelty;From me his languishment and fears,And every killing dart from thee:Thus thou, and I, the god have armedAnd set him up a deity;But my poor heart alone is harmed,While thine the victor is, and free.Aphra Behn(1640–89)

(1) Love in fantastic triumph sate,

Whilst bleeding hearts around him flowed,

For whom fresh pains he did create,

And strange tyrannic power he showed.

From thy bright eyes he took his fires,

Which round about in sport he hurled;

But ’twas from mine he took desires

Enough t’ undo the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,From thee his pride and cruelty;From me his languishment and fears,And every killing dart from thee:Thus thou, and I, the god have armedAnd set him up a deity;But my poor heart alone is harmed,While thine the victor is, and free.Aphra Behn(1640–89)

From me he took his sighs and tears,

From thee his pride and cruelty;

From me his languishment and fears,

And every killing dart from thee:

Thus thou, and I, the god have armed

And set him up a deity;

But my poor heart alone is harmed,

While thine the victor is, and free.

Aphra Behn(1640–89)

(2) Fair Daffodils, we weep to seeYou haste away so soon:As yet the early-rising SunHas not attain’d his noon.Stay, stay,Until the hasting dayHas runBut to the even-song;And, having pray’d together, weWill go with you along.We have short time to stay, as you,We have as short a Spring;As quick a growth to meet decayAs you, or any thing.We die,As your hours do, and dryAwayLike to the Summer’s rain;Or as the pearls of morning’s dewNe’er to be found again.To Daffodils,Herrick(1591–1674)

(2) Fair Daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon:

As yet the early-rising Sun

Has not attain’d his noon.

Stay, stay,

Until the hasting day

Has run

But to the even-song;

And, having pray’d together, we

Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,We have as short a Spring;As quick a growth to meet decayAs you, or any thing.We die,As your hours do, and dryAwayLike to the Summer’s rain;Or as the pearls of morning’s dewNe’er to be found again.To Daffodils,Herrick(1591–1674)

We have short time to stay, as you,

We have as short a Spring;

As quick a growth to meet decay

As you, or any thing.

We die,

As your hours do, and dry

Away

Like to the Summer’s rain;

Or as the pearls of morning’s dew

Ne’er to be found again.

To Daffodils,Herrick(1591–1674)

2. Write a brief criticism of the following passage of Dryden’s prose. Comment upon (a) the vocabulary, (b) the type of sentence, (c) any colloquialisms or slips of grammar, and (d) its value as literary criticism.

He must have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive nature, because, as it has been truly observed of him, he has taken into the compass of hisCanterbury Talesthe various manners and humours (as we now call them) of the whole English nation, in his age. Not a single character has escaped him. All his pilgrims are severally distinguished from each other; and not only in their inclinations, but in their very physiognomies andpersons. Baptista Porta could not have described their natures better, than by the marks which the poet gives them. The matter and manner of their tales, and of their telling, are so suited to their different educations, humours, and callings, that each of them would be improper in any other mouth. Even the grave and serious characters are distinguished by their several sorts of gravity: their discourses are such as belong to their age, their calling, and their breeding; such as are becoming of them, and of them only. Some of his persons are vicious, and some virtuous; some are unlearned, or (as Chaucer calls them) lewd, and some are learned. Even the ribaldry of the low characters is different; the Reeve, the Miller, and the Cook, are several men, and distinguished from each other as much as the mincing Lady Prioress, and the broad-speaking, gap-toothed Wife of Bath. But enough of this; there is such a variety of game springing up before me, that I am distracted in my choice, and know not which to follow. ’Tis sufficient to say, according to the proverb, that “Here is God’s plenty.” We have our forefathers and great-granddames all before us, as they were in Chaucer’s days; their general characters are still remaining in mankind, and even in England, though they are called by other names than those of monks and friars, and canons, and lady abbesses, and nuns; for mankind is ever the same, and nothing lost out of Nature, though everything is altered.Preface to the “Fables”

Preface to the “Fables”

3. The extracts given below illustrate the development of the stopped couplet. Point out briefly the change that comes over the meter, paying attention to (a) the regularity of the accent, (b) the pause, and (c) the cæsura.

(1) The sable mantle of the silent nightShut from the world the ever-joysome light.Care fled away, and softest slumbers pleaseTo leave the court for lowly cottages.Wild beasts forsook their dens on woody hills,And sleightful otters left the purling rills;Rooks to their nests in high woods now were flung,And with their spread wings shield their naked young.When thieves from thickets to the cross-ways stir,And terror frights the lonely passenger;When naught was heard but now and then the howlOf some vile cur, or whooping of the owl.William Browne, 1620

(1) The sable mantle of the silent night

Shut from the world the ever-joysome light.

Care fled away, and softest slumbers please

To leave the court for lowly cottages.

Wild beasts forsook their dens on woody hills,

And sleightful otters left the purling rills;

Rooks to their nests in high woods now were flung,

And with their spread wings shield their naked young.

When thieves from thickets to the cross-ways stir,

And terror frights the lonely passenger;

When naught was heard but now and then the howl

Of some vile cur, or whooping of the owl.

William Browne, 1620

(2) Oh, virtue’s pattern, glory of our times,Sent of past days to expiate the crimes;Great King, but better far than thou art great,Whom state not honours but who honours state;By wonder born, by wonder first installed,By wonder after to new kingdoms called;Young, kept by wonder from home-bred alarms,Old, saved by wonder from pale traitor’s harms,To be for this thy reign, which wonders brings,A king of wonder, wonder unto kings.If Pict, Dane, Norman, thy smooth yoke had seen,Pict, Dane, and Norman, had thy subjects been;If Brutus knew the bliss thy rule doth give,E’en Brutus joy would under thee to live.For thou thy people dost so dearly love,That they a father more than prince thee prove.Drummond, 1630

(2) Oh, virtue’s pattern, glory of our times,

Sent of past days to expiate the crimes;

Great King, but better far than thou art great,

Whom state not honours but who honours state;

By wonder born, by wonder first installed,

By wonder after to new kingdoms called;

Young, kept by wonder from home-bred alarms,

Old, saved by wonder from pale traitor’s harms,

To be for this thy reign, which wonders brings,

A king of wonder, wonder unto kings.

If Pict, Dane, Norman, thy smooth yoke had seen,

Pict, Dane, and Norman, had thy subjects been;

If Brutus knew the bliss thy rule doth give,

E’en Brutus joy would under thee to live.

For thou thy people dost so dearly love,

That they a father more than prince thee prove.

Drummond, 1630

(3) The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er;So, calm are we when passions are no more!For then we know how vain it was to boastOf fleeting things, so certain to be lost.Clouds of affection from our younger eyesConceal that emptiness which age descries.The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;Stronger by weakness, wiser, men becomeAs they draw near to their eternal home.Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,That stand upon the threshold of the new.Waller, 1687

(3) The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er;

So, calm are we when passions are no more!

For then we know how vain it was to boast

Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.

Clouds of affection from our younger eyes

Conceal that emptiness which age descries.

The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;Stronger by weakness, wiser, men becomeAs they draw near to their eternal home.Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,That stand upon the threshold of the new.Waller, 1687

The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,

Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;

Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become

As they draw near to their eternal home.

Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,

That stand upon the threshold of the new.

Waller, 1687

(4) See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,And heaped with products of Sabæan springs!For thee Idume’s spicy forests blow,And seeds of golden Ophir’s mountains glow.See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,And break upon thee in a flood of day.Pope, 1730

(4) See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,

Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;

See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,

And heaped with products of Sabæan springs!

For thee Idume’s spicy forests blow,

And seeds of golden Ophir’s mountains glow.

See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,

And break upon thee in a flood of day.

Pope, 1730

4. In the following extract from Bunyan explain carefully the literal meaning that lies behind the allegory.Remark upon (a) its clearness, (b) its appropriateness and beauty. Add a note on Bunyan’s style, especially with regard to its connection with the Bible.

But we will come again to this valley of humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground, and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows; and if a man was to come here in summer-time, as we do now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which would be delightful to him. Behold how green this valley is! also how beautiful with lilies! I have known many labouring men that have got good estates in this valley of humiliation. “For God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble”; for indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way to their father’s house were here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over; but the way is the way, and there’s an end.

5. The following extracts illustrate respectively Restoration comedy and tragedy:

(1) (This is part of a scene between Aimwell, a gentleman who is staying at an inn, and Gibbet, a highwayman, who is trying to insinuate himself into his company by calling himself a military officer.)EnterGibbetGibbet.Sir, I’m yours.Aimwell.’Tis more than I deserve, sir, for I don’t know you.Gibbet.I don’t wonder at that, sir, for you never saw me before—[aside]—I hope.Aimwell.And pray, sir, how came I by the honour of seeing you now?Gibbet.Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentleman, but my landlord—Aimwell.O sir, I ask your pardon, you’re the captain he told me of?Gibbet.At your service, sir.Aimwell.What regiment, may I be so bold?Gibbet.A marching regiment, an old corps.Aimwell[aside]. Very old, if your coat be regimental. [Aloud] You have served abroad, sir?Gibbet.Yes, sir, in the plantations,’twas my lot to be sent into the worst service; I would have quitted it indeed, but a manof honour, you know—Besides, ’twas for the good of my country that I should be abroad: anything for the good of one’s country—I’m a Roman for that.Aimwell.You found the West Indies very hot, sir?Gibbet.Ay, sir, too hot for me.Aimwell.Pray, sir, han’t I seen your face at Will’s coffee-house?Gibbet.Yes, sir, and at White’s too.Aimwell.And where is your company now, captain?Gibbet.They an’t come yet.Aimwell.Why, d’ye expect them here?Gibbet.They’ll be here to-night, sir.Aimwell.Which way do they march?Gibbet.Across country.Farquhar,The Beaux’ Stratagem

EnterGibbet

Gibbet.Sir, I’m yours.

Aimwell.’Tis more than I deserve, sir, for I don’t know you.

Gibbet.I don’t wonder at that, sir, for you never saw me before—[aside]—I hope.

Aimwell.And pray, sir, how came I by the honour of seeing you now?

Gibbet.Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentleman, but my landlord—

Aimwell.O sir, I ask your pardon, you’re the captain he told me of?

Gibbet.At your service, sir.

Aimwell.What regiment, may I be so bold?

Gibbet.A marching regiment, an old corps.

Aimwell[aside]. Very old, if your coat be regimental. [Aloud] You have served abroad, sir?

Gibbet.Yes, sir, in the plantations,’twas my lot to be sent into the worst service; I would have quitted it indeed, but a manof honour, you know—Besides, ’twas for the good of my country that I should be abroad: anything for the good of one’s country—I’m a Roman for that.

Aimwell.You found the West Indies very hot, sir?

Gibbet.Ay, sir, too hot for me.

Aimwell.Pray, sir, han’t I seen your face at Will’s coffee-house?

Gibbet.Yes, sir, and at White’s too.

Aimwell.And where is your company now, captain?

Gibbet.They an’t come yet.

Aimwell.Why, d’ye expect them here?

Gibbet.They’ll be here to-night, sir.

Aimwell.Which way do they march?

Gibbet.Across country.

Farquhar,The Beaux’ Stratagem

Remark upon the style of the dialogue, and how it suits the situation.

(2) (This extract occurs near the end of “Venice Preserved,” Otway’s famous tragedy. Pierre, a conspirator against the Venetian Senate, is about to be tortured publicly on the wheel. His friend Jaffier, who has wronged Pierre, has come to witness the execution.)

Officer.The day grows late, sir.Pierre.I’ll make haste. O Jaffier!Though thou’st betrayed me, do me some way justice.Jaffier.No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied....[Going away, Pierre holds him.Pierre.No—this—no more![He whispers Jaffier.Jaffier.Ha! is’t then so?Pierre.Most certainly.Jaffier.I’ll do’t.Pierre.Remember.Officer.Sir.Pierre.Come, now I’m ready.[He and Jaffier ascend the scaffold.Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour.Keep off the rabble, that I may have roomTo entertain my fate and die with decency.Come![Takes off his gown. Executioner prepares to bind him.Priest.Son!Pierre.Hence, tempter!Officer.Stand off, priest.Pierre.I thank you, sir.You’ll think on’t.[To Jaffier.Jaffier.’Twon’t grow stale before to-morrow.Pierre.Now, Jaffier! Now I am going. Now—[Executioner having bound him.Jaffier.Have at thee, thou honest heart!Then, here! [Stabs him.And this is well too![Stabs himself.Priest.Damnable deed!Pierre.Now thou hast indeed been faithful.This was done nobly—we’ve deceived the Senate.Jaffier.Bravely.Pierre.Ha! Ha! Ha!—Oh! Oh!—[Dies.Jaffier.Now, you curs’d rulers,Thus of the blood ye’ve shed I make libation,And sprinkle it mingling; may it rest upon you,And all your race: be henceforth peace a strangerWithin your walls; let plagues and famine wasteYour generations—O poor Belvidera!...I’m sick—I’m quiet—[Dies.

Officer.The day grows late, sir.

Pierre.I’ll make haste. O Jaffier!

Though thou’st betrayed me, do me some way justice.

Jaffier.No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied....

[Going away, Pierre holds him.

Pierre.No—this—no more![He whispers Jaffier.

Jaffier.Ha! is’t then so?

Pierre.Most certainly.

Jaffier.I’ll do’t.

Pierre.Remember.

Officer.Sir.

Pierre.Come, now I’m ready.

[He and Jaffier ascend the scaffold.

Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour.

Keep off the rabble, that I may have room

To entertain my fate and die with decency.

Come!

[Takes off his gown. Executioner prepares to bind him.

Priest.Son!

Pierre.Hence, tempter!

Officer.Stand off, priest.

Pierre.I thank you, sir.

You’ll think on’t.[To Jaffier.

Jaffier.’Twon’t grow stale before to-morrow.

Pierre.Now, Jaffier! Now I am going. Now—

[Executioner having bound him.

Jaffier.Have at thee, thou honest heart!

Then, here! [Stabs him.

And this is well too![Stabs himself.

Priest.Damnable deed!

Pierre.Now thou hast indeed been faithful.

This was done nobly—we’ve deceived the Senate.

Jaffier.Bravely.

Pierre.Ha! Ha! Ha!—Oh! Oh!—[Dies.

Jaffier.Now, you curs’d rulers,

Thus of the blood ye’ve shed I make libation,

And sprinkle it mingling; may it rest upon you,

And all your race: be henceforth peace a stranger

Within your walls; let plagues and famine waste

Your generations—O poor Belvidera!...

I’m sick—I’m quiet—[Dies.

Remark upon the power of this scene, the skill shown in the variation of the speeches, the use of colloquialisms, and the climax. Does it strike you as being overdone? Add a note on the meter.

6. The following is Dryden’s character-sketch of the Duke of Buckingham, who receives the name of Zimri. (Dryden, in hisEssay on Satire, says: “How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave without using any of these opprobrious names! There is a vast difference between the slovenly butchering of a man and the fineness of stroke that separates the head from the body, and leaves it standing in its place.... The character of Zimri, in myAbsalom and Achitophel, is, in my opinion, worth the whole poem. It is not bloody, but it is ridiculous enough.”)

Some of their chiefs were princes of the land;In the first rank of these did Zimri stand,A man so various that he seemed to beNot one, but all mankind’s epitome:Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,Was everything by starts, and nothing long;But in the course of one revolving moonWas chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.Blest madman who could every hour employWith something new to wish or to enjoy!Railing and praising were his usual themes,And both, to show his judgment, in extremes:So over violent or over civilThat every man with him was God or Devil.In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;Nothing went unrewarded but desert.Beggared by fools whom still he found too late,He had his jest, and they had his estate.He laughed himself from Court; then sought reliefBy forming parties, but could ne’er be chief:For spite of him, the weight of business fellOn Absalom and wise Achitophel;Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft,He left not faction, but of that was left.

Some of their chiefs were princes of the land;

In the first rank of these did Zimri stand,

A man so various that he seemed to be

Not one, but all mankind’s epitome:

Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,

Was everything by starts, and nothing long;

But in the course of one revolving moon

Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;

Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,

Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.

Blest madman who could every hour employ

With something new to wish or to enjoy!

Railing and praising were his usual themes,

And both, to show his judgment, in extremes:

So over violent or over civil

That every man with him was God or Devil.

In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;

Nothing went unrewarded but desert.

Beggared by fools whom still he found too late,

He had his jest, and they had his estate.

He laughed himself from Court; then sought relief

By forming parties, but could ne’er be chief:

For spite of him, the weight of business fell

On Absalom and wise Achitophel;

Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft,

He left not faction, but of that was left.

From this passage quote the lines which hint that Buckingham is respectively “a fool, a blockhead, or a knave” without actually calling him so. Quote other lines that seem to be particularly effective. Remark upon the style of the couplet: the meter, the position of the pause, and the kind of rhyme. Finally, write a paragraph summarizing the effect the passage produces on the reader.

7. The passage given below is an extract from Dryden’s earliest printed poem (1658). Compare it with the passage given in the last exercise.

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