>w v E ^ UCatl ° nal Pub,i8 hmg Co.. 50 Bromfield St., Boston =d Se m ,-Mon t hl y Prl ce. «*.40 per year Sin Ble „u mbers , „ cts . xVE CENT CLASSIC No. 4th Grade. {Continued.) 105. Stories and Rhymes of Birdland. I. 106. Stories and Rhymes of Birdland. II. 107. Stories and Rhymes of Flowerland. I. 108. Stories and Rhymes of Flowerland. II. 125. Selections from Longfellow. 1 5th Grade. Hawthorne's Three Golden Apples. Hawthorne's Miraculous Pitcher. The Chimaera. (Hawthorne.) Paradise of Children. (Hawthorne.) Audubon. Jefferson. 102. Nathan Hale. 6th Grade. 15. Legend of Sleepy Hollow. (Irving.) 16. 32. 39' 50 Rip Van Winkle, etc. (Irving.) King of the Golden River. (Ruskin.) We are Seven, etc. (Wordsworth.) Rab and His Friends. Christmas Eve, etc. (Irving.) 54. Pied Piper of Hamelin. (Browning.) 55. John Gilpin, etc. (Cowper.) 57. Lady of the Lake. Canto I. (Scott.) 66. Declaration of Independence. 67. Thanatopsis and Other Poems. 84. The Minotaur. (Hawthorne.) 85. The Pygmies. (Hawthorne.) No. 6th Grade. {Continued. 86. The Dragon's Teeth. (Hawthorne.; 93. Great Stone Face. (Hawthorne.) 94. Snow Image. (Hawthorne.) 126. Selections from Longfellow. 7th Grade. 5. Story of Macbeth. 6. Lays of Ancient Rome. — 1. 10. Enoch Arden. (Tennyson.) 17. Philip of Pokanoket. (Irving.) 18. The Voyage, etc. (Irving.) . 40. Ancient Mariner. (Coleridge.) 41. Evangeline. (Longfellow.) 58. Lady of the Lake. Canto II. (Scot 8th Grade. 19. The Deserted Village. (Goldsmitl 37. Othello, etc. (Lamb.) 38. The Tempest, etc. (Lamb.) 49. L' Allegro and Other Poems. 51. As You Like It. (Shakespeare.) 52. Merchant of Venice. (Shakespear 53. Henry the Eighth. (Shakespeare 56. The Elegy, etc. (Gray.) 59. Lady of the Lake. Canto III. . 65. Sir Roger De Coverley. 80. Cotter's Saturday Night. (Burns 88. Sir Launfal. (Lowell.) in. The Prisoner of Chillon. (Byron. 112. Lady of the Lake. Canto IV, 113. Lady of the Lake. Canto V. 114. Lady of the Lake. Canto VI. 4Sp Order by number. Each number contains 32 pages of choice Illustrated Literature, bound strong nianilla covers. Price, 5 cents a copy* 60 cents a dozen, postpaid. EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY, Boston. New York. Chicago. San THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY MILTON BY THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY WITH NOTES BY MARGARET A. EATON, A. B. EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY BOSTON New York Chicago San Francisco *«' ^v \ H & 38427 Copyrighted By EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY, INTRODUCTION. Probably no writer who ever lived has succeeded in pro- ducing such scholarly, and at the same time such popular and intensely interesting work, as Thomas Babington Macaulay. Certainly his essays are the most brilliant series in the English language. Macaulay's father was a Scotchman who had lived for some time in the West Indies and who, on his return to England, had joined the anti-slavery party. Thomas, his eldest son, was born at Rothley Temple, October 25, 1800. He was a remark- able child, with a passion for reading and a wonderful memory. He did not care for games nor for the companionship of boys of his own age, but amused himself by writing hymns, essays, poems and histories. At thirteen he wrote: — "The books which I am at present employed in reading to myself are, in English, Plutarch's " Lives," and Milner's " Ecclesiastical History;" in French, Fenelon's " Dialogues of the Dead." I shall send you back the volumes of Madam de Genlis's " Petit Romans " as soon as possible, and should be very much obliged for one or two more of them." In 1 81 8 he entered Trinity College, Cambridge, and soon distinguished himself in literature and in debate. Mathematics he hated and studied only under protest, but he read everything from Plato to the latest novel. He could take in the contents of a page almost at a glance and finish a whole book while another was reading a chapter. What he read he never for- got. He could repeat "Paradise Lost" by heart, and two newspaper poems which he had once read in a Cambridge coffee-house, he was able to recall word for word forty years later. INTRODUCTK N -nd in 5 ■ ■ as ar. - In - - - - In : sskm - - depar from the - the pubi;, ith the demand. Inmcs of this , hed Macau : . t labors had told upon his - ] he died Decern fc of INTRODUCT] v. Baron. He was Macaulay's chief chara did anything .it often ma writings only pa - for it is always clear - .--nee. There is not a feeble line in a . first rule of all writing,'' he has said, " that rule to which every other ate, is that the - all be sac great n, 1825. The West Indies, 1S25. Th-. - ' Machiavelli, 1827 .-: of Negroes, 1827. en, 1828. History, 1828. Hallarrws Constitutional Hi- .-eminent, I : -mment, 1829. I jlloquies on So . :'. Disabilities of the Jews, 1831. Moore's I I 5 1 . BoswelTs Life of Johnson, 1831. - f Hampden, 1S31. I M Horace Walpole, 1S33. Earl of Chatham, 1 : , - James Mackintosh, 1 B 1 Sir William Temple, 1838. vi. INTRODUCTION. Gladstone on Church and State, 1839. Lord Clive, 1840. Von Rouke, 1840. Leigh Hunt, 1841. Lord Holland, 1 84 1. Warren Hastings, 1841. Frederick the Great, 1842. Madam D'Arblay, 1843. Addison, 1843. Barrere, 1844. Earl of Chatham, 1844. BIOGRAPHIES (ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITTANICA.) Frances Atterbury, 1853. John Bunyan, 1 854. Oliver Goldsmith, 1856. Samuel Johnson, 1856. William Pitt, 1859. Lays of Ancient Rome, 1842. History of England from the Accession of James IL, 1848. MILTON. [Edinburgh Review, August \ 1825. ] Towards the close of the year 1823, Mr. Lemon, deputy keeper of the state papers, in the course of his researches among the presses of his office met with a large Latin manuscript. With it were found corrected copies of the s foreign dispatches written by Milton while he filled the office of secretary, and several papers relating to the Popish Trials and the Rye House Plot. The whole was wrapped up in an envelope, superscribed, To Mr. Skinner, 10 MercJiant. On examination the large manu- script proved to be the long-lost essay on the Doctrines of Christianity, which according to Wood and Toland, Milton finished after the Restoration, and deposited with Cyriac Skinner, is 1. Mr. Lemon, during the early part of the present century, made important improvements in the methods of preserving public documents in England. 7. Milton was Latin secretary under Cromwell in 1649 an d hdcl this office until the Restoration. 8. Popish Trials. In 1678 Titus Oates accused the Catholic nobility of conspiring against the Protestants and several of them were tried and executed. 8. Rye House Plot. A conspiracy on the part of some Whigs to assassinate Charles II. 10. Mr. Skinner. Milton's pupil and friend. To him he dedicated the beautiful sonnet on the loss of his sight. 7 8 MILTON. Skinner, it is well known, held the same political opinions with his illustrious friend. It is therefore probable, as Mr. Lemon conjec- tures, that he may have fallen under the 5 suspicions of the government during that persecution of the Whigs which followed the dissolution of the Oxford Parliament; and that, in consequence of a general seizure of his papers, this work may have been brought to 10 the office in which it has been found. But whatever the adventures of the manuscript may have been, no doubt can exist that it is a genuine relic of the great poet. Mr. Sumner, who was commanded by his is Majesty to edit and translate the treatise, has acquitted himself of his task in a manner honorable to his talents and to his character. His version is not, indeed, very easy or elegant; but it is entitled to the praise of 20 clearness and fidelity. His notes abound with interesting quotations, and have the rare merit of really elucidating the text. The preface is evidently the work of a sensible and candid man, firm in his own religious opinions, and 2 5 tolerant towards those of others. 6. Whigs. A political party devoted to the cause of popular rights. 7. Oxford Parliament. In 1681 Parliament met at Oxford that the commons might not be influenced by the factious citizens of London. MILTON. 9 The book itself will not add much to the fame of Milton. It is, like all his Latin works, well written, though not exactly in the style of the prize essays of Oxford and Cambridge. There is no elaborate imitation of classical 5 antiquity, no scrupulous purity, none of the ceremonial cleanness which characterizes the diction of our academical Pharisees. The author does not attempt to polish and brighten his composition into the Ciceronian gloss andio brilliancy. He does not, in short, sacrifice sense and spirit to pedantic refinements. The nature of his subject compelled him to use many words "That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp." 15 But he writes with as much ease and freedom as if Latin were his mother tongue ; and, where he is least happy, his failure seems to arise from the carelessness of a native, not from the ignorance of a foreigner. We may apply to 20 him what Denham with great felicity says of Cowley. He wears the garb, but not the clothes, of the ancients. 10. Marcus Tullius Cicero, (106-43 B.C.) A Roman orator noted fo the elegance of his style. 15. Quintilian, (A.D. 35-96.) A famous Roman critic who wrote « complete treatise on rhetoric and oratory. The line is from Milton'^ eleventh sonnet. 21. Denham and Cowley. Both noted poets of the first half of the seventeenth century. 10 MILTON. Throughout the volume are discernible the traces of a powerful and independent mind, emancipated from the influence of authority, and devoted to the search of truth. Milton 5 professes to form his system from the Bible alone; and his digest of scriptural texts is certainly among the best that have appeared. But he is not always so happy in his inferences as in his citations. 10 Some of the heterodox doctrines which he avows seem to have excited considerable amazement, particularly his Arianism, and his theory on the subject of polygamy. Yet we can scarcely conceive that any person is could have read the " Paradise Lost" without suspecting him of the former; nor do we think that any reader, acquainted with the history of his life, ought to be much startled at the latter. The opinions which he has expressed 20 respecting the nature of the Deity, the eternity of matter, and the observation of the Sabbath, might, we think, have caused more just surprise. But we will not go into the discussion of 26 these points. The book, were it far more orthodox or far more heretical than it is, ia. Arianism. A theological system originating with Arius, a presbyter of Alexandria, denying the doctrine of the Trinity. MILTON. I I would not much edify or corrupt the present generation. The men of our time are not to be converted or perverted by quartos. A few more days and this essay will follow the " Defensio Populi " to the dust and silence of 5 the upper shelf. The name of its author, and the remarkable circumstances attending its publication, will secure to it a certain degree of attention. For a month or two it will occupy a few minutes of chat in every drawing- 10 room, and a few columns in every magazine ; and it will then, to borrow the elegant language of the playbills, be withdrawn to make room for the forthcoming novelties. We wish, however, to avail ourselves of the 15 interest, transient as it may be, which this work has excited. The dexterous Capuchins never choose to preach on the life and miracles of a saint till they have awakened the devotional feelings of their auditors by 20 exhibiting some relic of him, — a thread of his garment, a lock of his hair, or a drop of his 3. quartos. Books in which the leaves are folded twice, making four leaves. 5. Defensio Populi. An answer to Salmasius's's " Defence of the King," attempting to justify the execution of Charles I. It was in writing this pamphlet that Milton brought on his blindness. 17. Capuchins. A branch of the Franciscan order of monks in Italy, so called from the capuche, or cowl, worn in imitation of St. Francis. They lived entirely by begging. 1 2 MILTON. blood. On the same principle, we intend to take advantage of the late interesting dis- covery, and, while this memorial of a great and good man is still in the hands of all, to 6 say something of his moral and intellectual qualities. Nor, we are convinced, will the severest of our readers blame us if, on an occasion like the present, we turn for a short time from the topics of the day, to commemo- 10 rate, in all love and reverence, the genius and virtues of John Milton, the poet, the states- man, the philosopher, the glory of English literature, the champion and the martyr of English liberty. is It is by his poetry that Milton is best known ; and it is of his poetry that we wish first to speak. By the general suffrage of the civilized world, his place has been assigned among the greatest masters of the art. His 20 detractors, however, though outvoted, have not been silenced. There are many critics, and some of great name, who contrive in the same breath to extol the poems and to decry the poet. The works they acknowledge, 25 considered in themselves, may be classed among the noblest productions of the human mind. But they will not allow the author to MILTON. 1 3 rank with those great men, who, born in the infancy of civilization, supplied by their own powers the want of instruction ; and, though destitute of models themselves, bequeathed to posterity models which defy imitation. Milton, 6 it is said, inherited what his predecessors created ; he lived in an enlightened age ; he received a finished education ; and we must, therefore, if we would form a just estimate of his powers, make large deductions in consider- 10 ation of these advantages. We venture to say, on the contrary, paradoxical as the remark may appear, that no poet has ever had to struggle with more unfavorable circumstances than Milton. Hei 5 doubted, as he has himself owned, whether he had not been born " an age too late." For this notion Johnson has thought fit to make him the butt of much clumsy ridicule. The poet, we believe, understood the nature of his 20 art better than the critic. He knew that his poetical genius derived no advantage from the civilization which surrounded him, or from the learning which he had acquired ; and he looked back with something like regret to the 25 17. " Paradise Lost," Book IX. line 44. 18. Dr. Samuel Johnson, (1709-84.) One of the most famous names in litera-ure in the eighteenth century. His " Life of Milton "is colored by his Tory prejudices. 1 4 MILTON. ruder age of simple words and vivid impressions. We think that as civilization advances poetry almost necessarily declines. There- 5 fore, though we fervently admire those great works of imagination which have appeared in dark ages, we do not admire them the more because they have appeared in dark ages. On the contrary, we hold that the most 10 wonderful and splendid proof of genius is a great poem produced in a civilized age. We cannot understand why those who believe in that most orthodox article of literary faith, that the earliest poets are generally the best, is should wonder at the rule as if it were the exception. Surely, the uniformity of the phenomenon indicates a corresponding uni- formity in the cause. The fact is, that common observers reason 20 from the progress of the experimental sciences to that of the imitative arts. The improve- ment of the former is gradual and slow. Ages are spent in collecting materials, ages more in separating and combining them. Even when 25 a system has been formed, there is still some- thing to add, to alter, or to reject. Every generation enjoys the use of a vast hoard MILTON. 1 5 bequeathed to it by antiquity, and transmits that hoard, augmented by fresh acquisitions, to future ages. In these pursuits, therefore, the first speculators lie under great disadvan- tages, and, even when they fail, are entitled to 5 praise. Their pupils, with far inferior intellec- tual powers, speedily surpass them in actual attainments. Every girl who has read Mrs. Marcet's little dialogues on political economy could teach Montague or Walpole many 10 lessons in finance. Any intelligent man may now, by resolutely applying himself for a few years to mathematics, learn more than the great Newton knew after half a century of study and meditation. is But it is not thus with music, with painting, or with sculpture. Still less is it thus with poetry. The progress of refinement rarely sup- plies these arts with better objects of imitation. It may indeed improve the instruments which 20 are necessary to the mechanical operations of 9. Mrs. Marcet, (1769-1858.) A writer on popular science and edu- cational subjects. 10. Charles Montague, (1661-1715.) As Lord Halifax he was Chan- cellor of the Exchequer under William III. and founder of the Bank of England. 10. Sir Robert Walpole, (1676-1745.) Chancellor of the Exchequer and chief minister under George I. and George II. 14. Sir Isaac Newton, (1642-1727.) One of the greatest of English philosophers. He discovered the law of gravitation. 1 6 MILTON. the musician, the sculptor, and the painter. But language, the machine of the poet, is best fitted for his purpose in its rudest state. Nations, like individuals, first perceive and 5 then abstract. They advance from particular images to general terms. Hence the vocabu- lary of an enlightened society is philosophical; that of a half-civilized people is poetical. This change in the language of men is 10 partly the cause and partly the effect of a corresponding change in the nature of their intellectual operations, of a change by which science gains and poetry loses. Generalization is necessary to the advancement of knowledge ; is but particularity is indispensable to the creations of the imagination. In proportion as men know more and think more, they look less at individuals and more at classes. They therefore make better theories and worse ao poems. They give us vague phrases instead of images, and personified qualities instead of men. They may be better able to analyze human nature than their predecessors. But analysis is not the business of the poet. His 2 . 5 office is to portray, not to dissect. He may believe in a moral sense, like Shaftesbury; he 26. Earl of Shaftesbury, (1671-1713.) Chiefly noted for his book " Characteristics" maintaining that everything which is, is for the best. MILTON. 17 may refer all human actions to self-interest, like Helvetius ; or he may never think about the matter at all. His creed on such subjects will no more influence his poetry, properly so called, than the notions which a painter may 5 have conceived respecting the lachrymal glands, or the circulation of the blood, will affect the tears of his Niobe, or the blushes of his Aurora. If Shakespeare had written a book on the motives of human actions, it is by 10 no means certain that it would have been a good one. It is extremely improbable that it would have contained half so much able reasoning on the subject as is to be found in the " Fable of the Bees." But could Mande-is ville have created an Iago? Well as he knew how to resolve characters into their elements, would he have been able to combine those elements in such a manner as to make up a man, — a real, living, individual man? 20 2. Helvetius, (1715-1771.) A French philosopher whose chief work was ordered to be burned by the hangman. He asserted that selfishness is the chief motive in human conduct. 8. Niobe. A character in Greek mythology whose twelve children were slain by Diana and Apollo, and who, in consequence, wept until she became a stone. 9. Aurora. The goddess of the dawn. 15. Fable of the Bees. A work of Bernard de Mandeville (1670-1733) in which he tries to show that vice and luxury benefit society. 16. Iago. A character in "Othello" and one of Shakespeare's most wonderful creations. 1 8 MILTON. Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry, without a certain unsound- ness of mind, if anything which gives so much pleasure ought to be called unsoundness. By 5 poetry we mean not all writing in verse, nor even all good writing in verse. Our definition excludes many metrical compositions which, on other grounds, deserve the highest praise. By poetry we mean the art of employing 10 words in such a manner as to produce an illusion on the imagination, the art of doing by means of words what the painter does by means of colors. Thus the greatest of poets has described it, in lines universally admired 15 for the vigor and felicity of their diction, and still more valuable on account of the just notion which they convey of the art in which he excelled : — " As imagination bodies forth 20 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name." These are the fruits of the " fine frenzy" which he ascribes to the poet, — a fine frenzy, 25 doubtless, but still a frenzy. Truth, indeed, is essential to poetry; but it is the truth of madness. The reasonings are just; but the 23. Midsummer Night's Dream, act v., sc. i. MILTON. 19 premises are false. After the first supposi- tions have been made, everything ought to be consistent ; but those first suppositions require a degree of credulity which almost amounts to a partial and temporary derangement of the 5 intellect. Hence of all people children are the most imaginative. They abandon them- selves without reserve to every illusion. Every image which is strongly presented to their mental eye produces on them the effect 10 of reality. No man, whatever his sensibility may be, is ever effected by Hamlet or Lear as a little girl is affected by the story of poor Red Ridinghood. She knows that it is all false, that wolves cannot speak, that there are 15 no wolves in England. Yet in spite of her knowledge she believes ; she weeps ; she trembles ; she dares not go into a dark room lest she should feel the teeth of the monster at her throat. Such is the despotism of the 20 imagination over uncultivated minds. In a rude state of society men are children with a greater variety of ideas. It is therefore in such a state of society that we may expect to find the poetical temperament in its highest 25 perfection. In an enlightened age, there will be much intelligence, much science, much :: l: : -i: ~t -■-"- - '-- -' ~-i~t :: " : L': t l: . : :.i.: :t -: t ~ : t. : lt. i f t: gaod ant-: faatf Btflc poetry- Mea vll -i. - i : . - -.: t ' --.'- ■---■- :"-:::: z. -_: - - l- i - i - - - : : t- i:tr~ c~z6r- i - — - Lr:: - - " m '- ' 1 j 1 fiTirng inn sDcrajsiDgp*.. TbeMg&BBA : i.- : • -. v lit : - : ;^ in .- • - • * -.-f : - • ; - e< rre • :crr s±zz urirc^ • - - ■ ■ :"i rcrf - - - :\iciLirr -~ : ~ :~± 7 * i -:•;:- - ~. - - i - - :f- : : : - - : --;--; - - - - : :.- ; _- : " - :^ - • ; : - - : - ;; ; - ; neiT , - -; - : -: r : / l_* _ :~c : : . .- i ■ :> j • * : : -v ;; * - ■ - - - ;.i — ■-: • - ■ - c - . ■. ------:;.-.--- -^ - :--•-•::-■:> lv : v -: ,- : : : *c • ;; * : - - - -.- - t\" ' c .* : * ^ i: r " T " - ' ' - * ■." ~ MILTON. his works do not resemble a lisping man or a modern ruin. We have seen in our own time great talents, intense labor, and long meditation employed in this struggle against the spirit of 5 the age, and employed, we will not say absolutely in vain, but with dubious success and feeble applause. If these reasonings be just, no poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties than 10 Milton. He received a learned education; he was a profound and elegant classical scholar; he had studied all the mysteries of Rabbinical literature ; he was intimately acquainted with every language of modern Europe from which ^either pleasure or information was then to be derived. He was perhaps the only great poet of later times who has been distinguished by the excellence of his Latin verse. The genius of Petrarch was scarcely of the first order ; 20 and his poems in the ancient language, though much praised by those who have never read them, are wretched compositions. Cowley, with all his admirable wit and ingenuity, had little imagination ; nor indeed do we think 7. This is probably a reference to the poet Wordsworth. 12. Rabbinical literature. The writings of the Hebrew law-givers or rabbis. 19. Petrach, 1304-1374^ One of the greatest of Italian poets, especi- ally celebrated for his very beautiful lyrics. MILTON. 23 his classical diction comparable to that of Milton. The authority of Johnson is against us on this point. But Johnson had studied the bad writers of the middle ages till he had become utterly insensible to the Augustan & elegance, and was as ill qualified to judge between two Latin styles as a habitual drunkard to set up for a wine taster. Versification in a dead language is an exotic, a far-fetched, costly, sickly imitation of 10 that which elsewhere may be found in healthful and spontaneous perfection. The soils on which this rarity flourishes are in general as ill suited to the production of vigor- ous native poetry as the flowerpots of a 15 hothouse to the growth of oaks. That the author of the "Paradise Lost" should have written the " Epistle to Manso " was truly wonderful. Never before were such marked originality and such exquisite mimicry found 20 together. Indeed, in all the Latin poems of Milton, the artificial manner indispensable to such works is admirably preserved, while, at the same time, his genius gives to them a 5. Augustan. The reign of the first Roman Emperor Augustus (63 B.C. -14 A.D.) was called the Golden Age in literature. Horace, Vergil and Ovid were then at the height of their powers. 18. Epistle to Manso. A Latin poem written by Milton when he was in Italy. 24 MILTON. peculiar charm, an air of nobleness and free- dom, which distinguishes them from all other writings of the same class. They remind us of the amusements of those angelic warriors 5 who composed the cohort of Gabriel: — " About him exercised heroic games The unarmed youth of heaven ; but nigh at hand Celestial armory, shields, helms, and spears, Hung high, with diamonds flaming and with gold." 10 We cannot look upon the sportive exercises for which the genius of Milton ungirds itself, without catching a glimpse of the gorgeous and terrible panoply which it is accustomed to wear. The strength of his imagination 15 triumphed over every obstacle. So intense and ardent was the fire of his mind, that it not only was not suffocated beneath the weight of fuel, but penetrated the whole superincum- bent mass with its own heat and radiance. 20 It is not our intention to attempt anything like a complete examination of the poetry of Milton. The public has long been agreed as to the merit of the most remarkable passages, the incomparable harmony of the numbers, 25 and the excellence of that style which no rival has been able to equal and no parodist to 6. " Paradise Lost," Book IV., lines 551-54. MILTON. 2 5 degrade, which displays in their highest perfection the idiomatic powers of the English tongue, and to which every ancient and every modern language has contributed something of grace, of energy, or of music. In the vasts field of criticism on which we are entering, innumerable reapers have already put their sickles. Yet the harvest is so abundant that the negligent search of a straggling gleaner may be rewarded with a sheaf. 10 The most striking characteristic of the poetry of Milton is the extreme remoteness of the associations by means of which it acts on the reader. Its effect is produced, not so much by what it expresses, as by what it 15 suggests ; not so much by the ideas which it directly conveys, as by other ideas which are connected with them. He electrifies the mind through conductors. The most unimaginative man must understand the Iliad. Homer gives 20 him no choice, and requires from him no exertion, but takes the whole upon himself, and sets the images in so clear a light that it is impossible to be blind to them. The works of Milton cannot be comprehended or enjoyed 25 unless the mind of the reader co-operate with that of the writer. He does not paint a 26 MILTON. finished picture or play for a mere passive listener. He sketches, and leaves others to fill up the outline. He strikes the keynote, and expects his hearers to make out the 5 melody. We often hear of the magical influence of poetry. The expression in general means nothing; but, applied to the writings of Milton, it is most appropriate. His poetry 10 acts like an incantation. Its merit lies less in its obvious meaning than in its occult power. There would seem, at first sight, to be no more in his words than in other words. But they are words of enchantment. No sooner is are they pronounced, than the past is present and the distant near. New forms of beauty start at once into existence, and all the burial places of the memory give up their dead. Change the structure of the sentence ; substi- 2otute one synonym for another, and the whole effect is distroyed. The spell loses its power; and he who should then hope to conjure with it would find himself as much mistaken as Cassim in the Arabian tale, when he stood 25 crying, " Open Wheat," "Open Barley," to the door which obeyed no sound but " Open 24. Cassim. A character in the "Arabians Nights Tale of the Forty Thieves." * MILTON. 27 Sesame." The miserable failure of Dryden in his attempt to translate into his own diction some parts of the " Paradise Lost" is a remarkable instance of this. In support of these observations we mays remark, that scarcely any passages in the poems of Milton are more generally known, or more frequently repeated, than those which are little more than muster rolls of names. They are not always more appropriate ori more melodious than other names. But they are charmed names. Every one of them is the first link in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the dwelling place of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of our 15 country heard in a strange land, they produce upon us an effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One transports us back to a remote period of history. Another places us among the novel scenes and manners of a 2 o distant region. A third evokes all the dear classical recollections of childhood, — the schoolroom, the dog-eared Vergil, the holiday, 1. Open Sesame. An Indian grain. The name is used in the same tale as a password to the robbers' cave. 1. John Dryden, (1631-1700/ Oae of the most celebrated poets of the seventh century. He wrote a sacred opera based on the " Paradise Lost " entitled the " State of Innocence." 9. " Paradise Lost," Book I., line 39. 28 MILTON. and the prize. A fourth brings before us the splendid phantoms of chivalrous romance, — the trophied lists, the embroidered housings, the quaint devices, the haunted forests, the 5 enchanted gardens, the achievements of enamored knights, and the smiles of rescued princesses. In none of the works of Milton is his peculiar manner more happily displayed than ioin the "Allegro" and the " Penseroso." It is impossible to conceive that the mechanism of language can be brought to a more exquisite degree of perfection. These poems differ from others as ottar of roses differs from 15 ordinary rose water, the close-packed essence from the thin, diluted mixture. They are, indeed, not so much poems as collections of hints, from each of which the reader is to make out a poem for himself. Every epithet 20 is a text for a stanza. The "Comus" and the "Samson Agon- istes" are works which, though of very different merit, offer some marked points of resemblance. Both are lyric poems in the 25 form of plays. There are, perhaps, no two io. Allegro and Penseroso are two Italian words meaning mirthful and melancholy. They are among the earliest and most beautiful of Milton's poems. MILTON. 29 kinds of composition so essentially dissimilar as the drama and the ode. The business of the dramatist is to keep himself out of sight, and to let nothing appear but his characters. As soon as he attracts notice to his personals feelings, the illusion is broken. The effect is as unpleasant as that which is produced on the stage by the voice of the prompter or the entrance of a scene-shifter. Hence it was that the tragedies of Byron were his least 10 successful performances. They resemble those pasteboard pictures invented by the friend of children, Mr. Newberry, in which a single movable head goes round twenty different bodies, so that the same face looks out upon 15 us, successively, from the uniform of a hussar, the furs of a judge, and the rags of a beggar. In all the characters, — patriots and tyrants, haters and lovers, — the frown and sneer of Harold were discernible in an instant. But 2 o this species of egotism, though fatal to the drama, is the inspiration of the ode. It is the part of the lyric poet to abandon himself, without reserve, to his own emotions. 13. Mr. Newberry. A publisher of children's books. Goldsmith was one of his writers and mentions him in the " Vicar of Wakefield." 20. Childe Harold. The most famous of Byron's poems; describes the scenes through which the poet passed in his travels. 30 MILTON. Between these hostile elements many great men have endeavored to affect an amalgama- tion, but never with complete success. The Greek drama, on the model of which the 5 "Samson" was written, sprang from the ode. The dialogue was ingrafted on the chorus, and naturally partook of its character. The genius of the greatest of the Athenian drama- tists co-operated with the circumstances under 10 which tragedy made its first appearance. yEschylus was, head and heart, a lyric poet. In his time the Greeks had far more inter- course with the East than in the days of Homer; and they had not yet acquired that 15 immense superiority in war, in science, and in the arts, which, in the following generation, led them to treat the Asiatics with contempt. From the narrative of Herodotus it should seem that they still looked up, with the 20 veneration of disciples, to Egypt and Assyria. At this period, accordingly, it was natural that the literature of Greece should be tinctured with the Oriental style. And that style, we ii. iEschylus, Sophocles and Euripides were the three great Greek writers of tragedy and lived in the fifth century B.C. Only a few of their dramas survive. i8. Herodotus, (484 B.C.) The earliest of Greek historians and often called the ' father of history." He wrote an account of the Persian wars. MILTON. 3 1 think, is discernible in the works of Pindar and /Eschylus. The latter often reminds us of the Hebrew writers. The Book of Job, indeed, in conduct and diction, bears a considerable resemblance to some of his 5 dramas. Considered as plays, his works are absurd ; considered as choruses, they are above all praise. If, for instance, we examine the address of Clytemnestra to Agamemnon on his return, or the description of the seven 10 Argive chiefs, by the principles of dramatic writing, we shall instantly condemn them as monstrous. But if we forget the characters, and think only of the poetry, we shall admit that it has never been surpassed in energy ie and magnificence. Sophocles made the Greek drama as dramatic as was consistent with its original form. His portraits of men have a sort of similarity ; but it is the similarity not of a painting, but of a bas-relief . 20 It suggests a resemblance ; but it does not produce an illusion. Euripides attempted to carry the reform further. But it was a task I. Pindar, (520 B.C.) The earliest and greatest Greek lyric poet. 9. Agamemnon. A tragedy of JEschylus. Clytemnestra, Agamem- non's wife, slew him on his return from Troy. II. Argive chiefs. The seven princes who made war upon Thebes described in another drama of /Eschylus. 32 MILTON. far beyond his powers, perhaps beyond any powers. Instead of correcting what was bad, he destroyed what was excellent. He sub- stituted crutches for stilts, bad sermons for 5 good odes. Milton, it is well known, admired Euripides highly ; much more highly than, in our opin- ion, Euripides deserved. Indeed, the caresses which this partiality leads our countrymen 10 to bestow on " sad Electra's poet," sometimes remind us of the beautiful Queen of Fairyland kissing the long ears of Bottom. At all events, there can be no doubt that this veneration for the Athenian, whether just or not, was injuri- ous to the " Samson Agonistes." Had Milton taken yEschylus for his model, he would have given himself up to the lyric inspiration, and poured out profusely all the treasures of his mind, without bestowing a thought on those 20 dramatic properties which the nature of the work rendered it impossible to preserve. In the attempt to reconcile things in their own nature inconsistent, he has failed, as every one else must have failed. We cannot identify io. Electra's poet. Euripides. Electra is the heroine of one of his plays. i2. Bottom. The clown in " Midsummer Night's Dream." In act III. scene I., Obcron, king of the fairies, first disguises him with an- ass's head and then causes his queen, Titania, to fall in love with him. MILTON. 33 ourselves with the characters, as in a good play. We cannot identify ourselves with the poet, as in a good ode. The conflicting ingredients, like an acid and an alkali mixed, neutralize each other. We are by no means 5 insensible to the merits of this celebrated piece, to the severe dignity of the style, the graceful and pathetic solemnity of the opening speech, or the wild and barbaric melody which gives so striking an effect to the choral passages. i But we think it, we confess, the least success- ful effort of the genius of Milton. The " Comus " is framed on the model of the Italian masque, as the " Samson " is framed on the model of the Greek tragedy. It isi» certainly the noblest performance of the kind which exists in any language. It is as far superior to the " Faithful Shepherdess" as the " Faithful Shepherdess" is to the " Aminta," or the " Aminta" to the " Pastor Fido." It 20 was well for Milton that he had here no Euripides to mislead him. He understood and loved the literature of modern Italy. But he did not feel for it the same veneration 14. Masque. A dramatic entertainment originating in Italy and acted by imaginary or allegorical personages. It was very popular in England during the latter part of the sixteenth century. 20. " Faithful Shepherdess," " Aminta," and " Pastor Fido." All pastoral dramas; the first by John Fletcher, the other two by the Italian poets, Tasso and Guarini. 34 MILTON. ) which he entertained for the remains of Athenian and Roman poetry, consecrated by so many lofty and endearing recollections. The faults, moreover, of his Italian predeces- s sors were of a kind to which his mind had a deadly antipathy. He could stoop to a plain style, sometimes even to a bald style; but false brilliancy was his utter aversion. His Muse had no objection to a russet attire ; but 10 she turned with disgust from the finery of Guarini, as tawdry and as paltry as the rags of a chimney sweeper on May Day. Whatever ornaments she wears are of massive gold, not only dazzling to the sight, but capable of is standing the severest test of the crucible. Milton attended in the "Comus" to the distinction which he afterwards neglected in the " Samson." He made his masque what it ought to be, essentially lyrical, and dramatic 20 only in semblance. He has not attempted a fruitless struggle against a defect inherent in the nature of that species of composition ; and he has therefore succeeded, wherever success was not impossible. The speeches must be 25 read as majestic soliloquies; and he who so reads them will be enraptured with their i2. The chimney sweeps in England celebrated the first of May by parading in fantastic costumes. MILTON. 35 eloquence, their sublimity, and their music. The interruptions of the dialogue, however, impose a constraint upon the writer, and break the illusion of the reader. The finest passages are those which are lyric in form as well as ins spirit. " I should much commend," says the excellent Sir Henry Wotton in a letter to Milton, " the tragical part, if the lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Dorique delicacy in your songs and odes, whereunto, I mustio plainly confess to you, I have seen yet nothing parallel in our language." The criticism was just. It is when Milton escapes from the shackles of the dialogue, when he is discharged from the labor of uniting two incongruous 15 styles, when he is at liberty to indulge his choral raptures without reserve, that he rises even above himself. Then, like his own Good Genius bursting from the earthly form and weeds of Thyrsis, he stands forth in celestial 20 freedom ; he seems to cry exultingly, — " Now' my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run," 7. Sir Henry Wotton, (1568-1639.) A scholar and poet and provost of Eton College. 9. Dorique. The Greek dialect of Sicily in which the exquisite pas- toral poems of Theocritus were written. 20. Thyrsis. An attending spirit in " Comus " who assumes the dis- guise of a shepherd. Thyrsis was a favorite name for shepherds in the old classic pastorals. 23. "Comus," lines 1012, 1013. 36 MILTON. to skim the earth, to soar above the clouds, to bathe in the elysian dew of the rainbow, and to inhale the balmy smells of nard and cassia, which the musky winds of the zephyr scatter e through the cedared alleys of the Hesperides. There are several of the minor poems of Milton on which we would willingly make a few remarks. Still more willingly would we enter into a detailed examination of that 10 admirable poem, the " Paradise Regained," which, strangely enough, is scarcely ever mentioned except as an instance of the blind- ness of the parental affection which men of letters bear towards the offspring of their 1S intellects. That Milton was mistaken in pre- ferring this work, excellent as it is, to the " Paradise Lost," we readily admit. But we are sure that the superiority of the " Paradise Lost" to the Paradise Regained " is not more •20 decided than the superiority of the " Paradise Regained " to every poem which has since made its appearance. Our Limits, however, prevent us from discussing the point at length. We hasten on to that extraordinary production 2. Elysian. The Elysian Fields were the place of abode for the blessed spirits in Hades. 5. Hesperides. The daughters of Hesperus and Atlas. They guarded the golden apples in the garden of the gods which lay on the extreme verge of the western ocean where day and night meet. MILTON. 37 which the general suffrage of critics has placed in the highest class of human compositions. The only poem of modern times which can be compared with " Paradise Lost" is the "Divine Comedy." The subject of Milton, in 5 some points, resembled that of Dante ; but he has treated it in a widely different manner. We cannot, we think, better illustrate our opinion respecting our own great poet, than by contrasting him with the father of Tuscan 10 literature. The poetry of Milton differs from that of Dante as the hieroglyphics of Egypt differed from the picture writing of Mexico. The images which Dante employs speak for them- 15 selves ; they stand simply for what they are. Those of Milton have a signification which is often discernible only to the initiated. Their value depends less on what they directly repre- sent than on what they remotely suggest. How- 20 ever strange, however grotesque, may be the 5. " Divine Comedy " The great epic of Mediaeval Christianity and the work of the greatest of Italian poets, Dante Alighieri ^1265-1321.) -He was a Florentine by birth but was banished for political reasons and died in exile. The poem describes his journey through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise. 10. Tuscany. The province of Italy in which Florence is situated. 13. Hieroglyphic. In the Egyptian picture-writing each picture was used as a symbol for a letter or syllable, while in other countries where this form of writing was used, the picture merely denoted the thing represented. 38 MILTON. appearance which Dante undertakes to describe he never shrinks from describing it. He gives us the shape, the color, the sound, the smell, the taste ; he counts the numbers ; he 5 measures the size. His similes are the illus- trations of a traveller. Unlike those of other poets, and especially of Milton, they are introduced in a plain, business-like manner; not for the sake of any beauty in the objects 10 from which they are drawn; not for the sake of any ornament which they may impart to the poem ; but simply in order to make the meaning of the writer as clear to the reader as it is to himself. The ruins of the precipice 15 which led from the sixth to the seventh circle of hell were like those of the rock which fell into the Adige on the south of Trent. The cataract of Phlegethon was like that of Aqua Cheta at the monastery of St. Benedict. The 20 place where the heretics were confined in burning tombs resembled the vast cemetery of Aries. 17. Adige. A river of northern Italy on which the city of Trent is situated. 18. Phlegethon. A river of fire, one of the streams of Hades. 19. St. Benedict, (A.D. 480.) The founder of Monasticism in the western world. His monastery was near Naples on Monte Cassino. 22 Aries. A city of Provence in France celebrated for its remains of the Roman occupation. MILTON. 39 Now let us compare with the exact details )f Dante the dim intimations of Milton. We vill cite a few examples. The English poet iad never thought of taking the measure of satan. He gives us merely a vague idea ofs /ast bulk. In one passage the fiend lies stretched out, huge in length, floating many a 'ood, equal in size to the earthborn enemies ">f Jove, or to the sea monster which the nariner mistakes for an island. When heio iddresses himself to battle against the guardian mgels, he stands like Teneriffe or Atlas : his stature reaches the sky. Contrast with these descriptions the lines in which Dante has described the gigantic specter of Nimrod.15 1 His face seemed to me as long and as broad is the ball of St. Peter's at Rome; and his Dther limbs were in proportion; so that the Dank, which concealed him from the waist downwards, nevertheless showed so much of 20 aim, that three tall Germans would in vain tiave attempted to reach to his hair." We are sensible that we do no justice to the admirable style of the Florentine poet. But Mr. Cary's 12 Teneriffe. A volcano on an island off the African coast. " Para- iise Lost," Book I., lines 192-208. Atlas. A chain of lofty mountains in Northern Africa. 15. Nimrod. A mighty hunter and reputed founder of the Assyrian Empire. Gen. X., 8-12. 40 MILTON. translation is not at hand ; and our version, however rude, is sufficient to illustrate our meaning. Once more, compare the lazar house in the 5 eleventh book of the " Paradise Lost" with the last ward of Malebolge in Dante. Milton avoids the loathsome details, and takes refuge in indistinct but solemn and tremendous imagery: Despair hurrying from couch to o couch to mock the wretches with his attendance ; Death shaking his dart over them, but, in spite of supplications, delaying to strike. What says Dante? " There was such a moan there as there would be if all the sick 1 6 who, between July and September, are in the hospitals of Valdichiana, and of the Tuscan swamps, and of Sardinia, were in one pit together ; and such a stench was issuing forth as is wont to issue from decayed limbs." o We will not take upon ourselves the invidious office of settling precedency between two such writers. Each in his own depart- ment is incomparable ; and each, we may 4. Lazar house. Lazar is derived from Lazarus, meaning leper, and is used here for hospital. 6. Malebolge. The eighth circle of Hell in Dante's " Inferno." It was a deep gulf surrounded by ten pits, the abode of the forgers and liars. 16. Valdichiana. A region of Tuscany formerly swampy and un- healthy. MILTON. 41 remark, has wisely, or fortunately, taken a subject adapted to exhibit his peculiar talent to the greatest advantage. The " Divine Comedy" is a personal narrative. Dante is the eye-witness and ear-witness of that which 5 he relates. He is the very man who has heard the tormented spirits crying out for the second death ; who has read the dusky characters on the portal within which there is no hope ; who has hidden his face from the terrors of the 10 Gorgon ; who has fled from the hooks and the seething pitch of Barbariccia and Draghign- azzo. His own hands have grasped the shaggy sides of Lucifer. His own feet have climbed the mountain of expiation. His own* 5 brow has been marked by the purifying angel. The reader would throw aside such a tale in incredulous disgust, unless it were told with the strongest air of veracity; with a sobriety even in its horrors; with the greatest precision 20 7. second death. The death of the soul. "Inferno," Book I., line 117. 8. Over the portal of Hell were inscribed the words, " Lasciate ogni Sperauza, voi ch'entrate," "All hope abandon, ye who enter here." " Inferno," Book III., line 9. 11. Gorgon. Medusa, one of the three sisters with the snaky locks who turned to stone all who looked upon her. 13. Barbariccia and Draghignazzo. Names of fiends in the " Inferno." 14. Lucifer. A name given to Satan. 15. Mountain of expiation. Purgatory 42 MILTON. and multiplicity in its details. The narrative of Milton in this respect differs from that of Dante, as the adventures of Amadis differ from those of Gulliver. The author of 5 " Amadis" would have made his book ridicu- lous if he had introduced those minute particulars which give such a charm to the work of Swift; the nautical observations, the affected delicacy about names, the official 10 documents transcribed at full length, and all the unmeaning gossip and scandal of the court, springing out of nothing, and tending to nothing. We are not shocked at being told that a man who lived, nobody knows 15 when, saw many very strange sights, and we can easily abandon ourselves to the illusion of the romance. But when Lemuel Gulliver, surgeon, resident at Rotherhithe, tells us of pygmies and giants, flying islands, and phil- 2oosophizing horses, nothing but such circum- stantial touches could produce for a single moment a deception on the imagination. Of all the poets who have introduced into their works the agency of supernatural beings, 3. Amadis. Hero of the legendary romance of chivalry, " Amadis of Gaul," written by a Portuguese in the fourteenth century. 4. Gulliver. Hero of " Gulliver's Travels," a romance by Dean Swift (1667-1745) and a bitter satire on English social and political life. MILTON. 43 Milton has succeeded best. Here Dante decidedly yields to him ; and as this is a point on which many rash and ill-considered judg- ments have been pronounced, we feel inclined to dwell on it a little longer. The most fatal 5 error which a poet can possibly commit in the management of his machinery is that of attempting to philosophize too much. Milton has often been censured for ascribing to spirits many functions of which spirits must beio incapable. But these objections, though sanctioned by eminent names, originate, we venture to say, in profound ignorance of the art of poetry. What is spirit? What are our own minds, 15 the portion of spirit with which we are best acquainted? We observe certain phenomena. We cannot explain them into material causes. We therefore infer that there exists something which is not material. But of this something 20 we have no idea. We can define it only by negatives. We can reason about it only by symbols. We use the word, but w r e have no image of the thing; and the business of poetry is with images, and not with words. 25 The poet uses words indeed ; but they are merely the instruments of his art, not its 44 MILTON. objects. They are the materials which he is to dispose in such a manner as to present a picture to the mental eye. And if they are not so disposed, they are no more entitled to 5 be called poetry than a bale of canvas and a box of colors to be called a painting. Logicians may reason about abstractions. But the great mass of men must have images. The strong tendency of the multitude in all 10 ages and nations to idolatry can be explained on no other principle. The first inhabitants of Greece, there is reason to believe, wor- shipped one invisible Deity. But the necessity of having something more definite to adore 15 produced, in a few centuries, the innumerable crowd of gods and goddesses. In like manner the ancient Persians thought it impious to exhibit the Creator under a human form. Yet even these transferred to the sun the worship 20 which, in speculation, they considered due only to the Supreme Mind. The history of the Jews is the record of a continued struggle between pure Theism, supported by the most terrible sanctions, and the strangely fascinating desire 13. This statement is a very doubtful one. 17. Zoroaster, the great Persian prophet, taught that there were two creative spirits, one good, the other evil, but that the good would ultimately prevail. MILTON. 45 of having some visible and tangible object of adoration. Perhaps none of the secondary causes which Gibbon has assigned for the rapidity with which Christianity spread over the world, while Judaism scarcely ever acquired a 5 proselyte, operated more powerfully than this feeling. God, the uncreated, the incompre- hensible, the invisible, attracted few wor- shippers. A philosopher might admire so noble a conception; but the crowd turned 10 away in disgust from words which presented no image to their minds. It was before Deity, embodied in a human form, walking among men, partaking of their infirmities, leaning on their bosoms, weeping over their graves, slum- 15 bering in the manger, bleeding on the cross, that the prejudices of the Synagogue, and the doubts of the Academy, and the pride of the Portico, and the fasces of the Lictor, and the swords of the thirty legions, were humbled 20 3. Edward Gibbon, (1737-1794.) An eminent English historian, author of the" Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." 17. Synagogue. The Jewish place of worship, but used here to denote the Jews as a race. 18. Academy. A garden in Athens where Plato taught his disciples. Hence his philosophy received the name of Academic. 19. Portico. A porch in Athens where Zeno, the founder of the Stoic school of philosophy, used to teach. 19. Lictor. A Roman officer who attended the magistrates and carried as a badge of authority a bundle of rods called fasces. The expression is here used as a symbol of the Roman Empire. 46 MILTON. in the dust. Soon after Christianity had achieved its triumph, the principle which had assisted it began to corrupt it. It became a new paganism. Patron saints assumed the offices of household gods. St. George took the place of Mars. St. Elmo consoled the mariner for the loss of Castor and Pollux. The Virgin Mother and Cecilia succeeded to Venus and the Muses. The fascination of sex 10 and loveliness was again joined to that of celes- tial dignity ; and the homage of chivalry was blended with that of religion. Reformers have often made a stand against these feelings ; but never with more than apparent and partial is success. The men who demolished the images in cathedrals have not always been able to demolish those which were enshrined in their minds. It would not be difficult to show that in politics the same rule holds good. Doc- 5. St. George. The patron saint of England because of the assistance he rendered their armies in the first Crusade. 6. Mars. The god of war. St Elmo. The electric light often seen about the masts of ships in a storm was called St. Elmo's fire by the Italian sailors. The Romans attributed this light to the gods, Castor and Pollux. 8. Cecilia, (A.D. 230.) The patroness of church music and said to have invented the organ. 9. Muses. The nine goddesses in Greek mythology who presided over the fine arts. 15. The "image breakers" or iconoclasts of the eighth century sought to abolish the use of images in church worship. MILTON. 47 trines, we are afraid, must generally be embodied before they can excite a strong public feeling. The multitude is more easily interested for the most unmeaning badge, or the most insignificant name, than for the most 5 important principle. From these considerations, we infer that no poet who should effect that metaphysical accuracy for the want of which Milton has been blamed, would escape a disgraceful 10 failure. Still, however, there was another extreme which, though far less dangerous, was also to be avoided. The imaginations of men are in a great measure under the control of their opinions. The most exquisite art of 15 poetical coloring can produce no illusion when it is employed to represent that which is at once perceived to be incongruous and absurd. Milton wrote in an age of philosophers and theologians. It was necessary, therefore, for 2 o him to abstain from giving such a shock to their understandings as might break the charm which it was his object to throw over their imaginations. This is the real explanation of the indistinctness and inconsistency with 25 which he has often been reproached. Dr. Johnson acknowledges that it was absolutely 48 MILTON. necessary that the spirits should be clothed with material forms. " But," says he, " the poet should have secured the consistency of his system by keeping immateriality out of s sight, and seducing the reader to drop it from his thoughts." This is easily said ; but what if Milton could not seduce his readers to drop immateriality from their thoughts? What if the contrary opinion had taken so 10 full a possession of the minds of men as to leave no room even for the half belief which poetry requires? Such we suspect to have been the case. It was impossible for the poet to adopt altogether the material or the imma- terial system. He therefore took his stand on the debatable ground. He left the whole in ambiguity. He has doubtless, by so doing, laid himself open to the charge of inconsis- tency. But, though philosophically in the 20 wrong, we cannot but believe that he was poetically in the right. This task, which almost any other writer would have found impracticable v was easy to him. The peculiar art which he possessed of communicating his 25 meaning circuitously through a long succes- sion of associated ideas, and of intimating more than he expressed, enabled him to MILTON. 49 disguise those incongruities which he could not avoid. Poetry which relates to the beings of another world ought to be at once mysterious and picturesque. That of Milton is so. That of s Dante is picturesque, indeed, beyond any that ever was written. Its effect approaches to that produced by the pencil or the chisel. But it is picturesque to the exclusion of all mystery. This is a fault on the right side, a 10 fault inseparable from the plan of Dante's poem, which, as we have already observed, rendered the utmost accuracy of description necessary. Still it is a fault. The super- natural agents excite an interest; but it is not 15 the interest which is proper to supernatural agents. We feel that we could talk to the ghosts and demons, without any emotion of unearthly awe. We could, like Don Juan, ask them to supper, and eat heartily in their 20 company. Dante's angels are good men with wings. His devils are spiteful, ugly execu- tioners. His dead men are merely living men in strange situations. The scene which passes between the poet and Farinata is justly 25 19. Don Juan. A legendary nobleman of Spain who sold himself to the Devil. In Mozart's opera, " Don Giovanni," he invites a statue to supper with him and the statue, much to his amazement, comes. 5oooooooooooooooooooooooo TEN CEN' CLASSICS. 014 159 931 8 2. 3- 4- 5- 6. 7- 8. 9- io. ii. 12. 13- 22. ( .Annotated.) Gulliver's Travels. (Voyage to Lilliput.) Black Beauty. Cricket on the Hearth. Hiawatha. Robinson Crusoe. l)e Quincey's Revolt of the Tartars. Marmion, (Annotated. ) Essay on Burns. (Annotated.) Autohiography of franklin. Christmas Carol. Lay of the Last Minstrel. (Annotated.) Paradise Lost. I. and II. " Tennyson's Princess. " Burke's Speech on Conciliation. " GREAT ARTISTS. ^jyo. Sketch of Raphael. (Illustrated.) 4jBg7^|feetchu«f,IvIuriilhj: (Illustrated.) I jSf^^itch of Ml^et^ (Illustrated.) SHAKESPEARE. Macbeth. (Annotated.} Merchant of Venice. " The Tempest. " Julius Caesar. " Hamlet. As You Like It. " Henry VIII. Twelfth Night. King Richard II. King John. Coriolanus. " Midsummer Night's Dream. " Cymbeline. " King Henry V. " These books are the very best things that I have seen of the kind, and I hail their appearance as the beginning of better things for the children. J. Henry Zies, Prin. Kershaw School, Chicag*. Strong Manilla Covers. 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