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 The Sense. Of The. Tnftnate. /tmon^ The. lforr\oLn^ic.is^s 
 
THE SENSE 
 
 AMONG 
 
 THESIS 
 
 Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the 
 
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 SUPERVISION BY - - 
 
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 BE ACCEPTED AS FULFILLING THIS PART OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR 
 
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CONTEljrj^s 
 
 CMOSilR 
 
 I 
 
 THE ORIGIH OF THE SENSE OF THE INFINITE 
 
 1-10 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 II 
 
 ROHAl^TIC RE7ERIE 
 
 11 - E9 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 III 
 
 ROMANTIC SYMBOLISM 
 
 SO - 41 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 IV 
 
 ROMANTIC ENTHUSIASM 
 
 4E - 6E 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/senseofinfiniteaOOheth 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE ORIGIN OP THE SENSE OP THE IITPINITH 
 
 It is difficult to trace the orogin of what is termed "man’s sense of the 
 
 infinite,’’- his "desire for the Unattainable, ’’- for man has always had some 
 
 conception, however vague, or however rational, of the infinite, A motto t?lcon 
 
 from a Thirteenth Century n^stic, Rusbrocelc the Admirable, is « cry for escape, 
 
 for the ’’something in the world that is therein no satisfying measure, or not 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 at all," And Longinus says, -"For to speak properly the Sublime rather ravishes 
 
 than persuades; it creates in us a certain transport and admiration, mixed with 
 
 astonishment and surprise, which is altogether distinct from barely pleasing 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 or persuading," Our concern is tliat spirit which prompted men during the roman*'- 
 tic period to an expansive idea of personality, ideal and expression,- which 
 motivated them to limitless self-reflection, vague ideas of possible attain- 
 ments, and profuse and extravagant efforts. 
 
 "All art," says Arthur Symons, "liates the vague; not the mysterious, but 
 the vague; two opposites very commonly confused, as the secret with the obsciure, 
 
 the infinite with the indefinite. And the artist who is also a mystic hates 
 
 (3) 
 
 the vague with a more profound hatred than any other artist.’’ To such an author 
 there is a distinction between vagueness and the more healthy mysticism of ro- 
 manticism, But the romanticist himself failed always to distinguish between 
 the two, Arthur Rimbaud, for example, aclcnowledges a vague self-delusion,-"! 
 
 (3) Arthur Symons, "The Symbolist Movement," 3?0 
 
 (2) Works of"Lionysius Longinus," Welsted, 171? Edition, S 
 
 (1) Arthxir Symons, "The Symbolist Movement," ?43 
 
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 accustomed myself to simple hallucination: I saw quite franicly, a mosque in 
 
 place of a factory, a school of drums kept by the angels, nost-cheises on the 
 
 roads of heaven, a drawing-room at the bottom of a lake; monsters, mysteries; 
 
 the title of a vaudeville raised up honors before me. Then I explained my msg- 
 
 ical sophisms by the hallucination of words.’ Indeed by finding something sac- 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 red in the disorder of my mind," 
 
 Byron, in "Don Juan," in justification of inconstancy speaks of the "ador- 
 ation of the real," which is but a heightening of the 'beau ideal' ,- 
 "*Tis the perception of the beautiful, 
 
 A fine extension of the faculties, 
 
 Platonic, universal, wonderful 
 
 Drawn from the stars and filtered through the skies 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Without which life would bo extremely dull." 
 
 To Madame de Sta’el* too, whom Heine characterizes as the "large-hearted 
 woman," who in her books expresses "the thoughts of her own radie^it soul, dis-- 
 playing all her intellectual fireworks and brilliant follies,"- the sense of the 
 infinite is "the true attribute of the soul" awakened by sincere religious feel- 
 ing, To her, too, it is indissolubly linked with the sense of the beautiful, - 
 "All that is beautiful, of every kind, excites in us the hone and desire of an 
 eternal futurity, and of a sublime existence; we cannot he'.r the wind in the 
 forest, nor the delicious concords of human voices; we cannot feel the encliant- 
 
 ment of eloquence or poetry; in a v/ord, above all, we cannot innocently, deeply 
 
 (3) 
 
 love, without being penetrated with religion and immortality," 
 
 As to Htgo, so to her, also, the romantic desire for the infinite means 
 
 "liberalism in art,"- but more even t'nan that. It is the motive force for the 
 
 saving spirit of the universe, enthusiasm, which she happily iirposes against 
 
 the danger of living life as little as possible, Gan there be a more wretched 
 
 (3) Lladame de Sta®l, Germany, 0. V/. i*Vright, 1861, Yol, 11, Ohapterl, 289 
 (2)3Byron, "Don Juan," "Byron's Gonplete Poems," Cambridge edition, Ganto II, 
 
 OCXII, 801 
 
 (1) Arthur Symons, "The Symbolist Movement," 291 
 
3 
 
 economy than of the faculties of tne soul? They were given to he improved and 
 
 eaqpanded, to he carried as near as possible to perfection, even to he prodigally 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 lavish for a high and nohlo end." 
 
 The spirit was one of expansion into untried fields,- an emotional outpour- 
 ing of idealism, enthusiasm and extravaganza. Bahhitt says, "The hrealcing down 
 hy the emotional romanticist of barriers that separate, not merely different 
 
 literary genres hut the different arts is only another aspect of his readiness 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 to follow the lure of the infinite.” And in "The New Laokoon," in referring 
 
 to the suggestion in romantic art, he speaks of the "inbreeding'’ of German pro- 
 
 (3) 
 
 gram music, and of its "tendency to melt into outer nature.” 
 
 But there is a sense of the infinite which is limited and attainable thro- 
 ugh restraint. The classicist speaks of a "classic "ense of infinity,' e "cen- 
 ter of perfection," an'irmer or human infinite,” or an infini e in the "qu'-lity 
 of restriction and limitation and proportion," 'There may oe claimed for tne 
 literature of all ages, he would say, certain attributes when "it rises from 
 the common level to the climates of inspiration,- the moments when in it we are 
 thrilled hy the indefinable spell of strangeness wedded to beauty, v;hon we are 
 startled hy theunexpected vision of mystery beyond the circle of appearances 
 that wrap us in the dull commonplace of daily usage, and suddenly ’the irameas- 
 urahle heavens break open to their highest.' And he cites such an instance in 
 Homer’s beautiful story of Ulysses’ encounter with Circe. 
 
 AS to the emotional and philosophical origin of this romantic sense for 
 the "limitless," which led to such an "exaggerated sense of the truth of things'} 
 Paul Elmer More says, -"If I had to designjite briefly this underlying princi]^le 
 
 (4) Paul Elmer More, "The Drift of Romanticism," Shelborne Essays, Eighth Series 
 Introduction, 9 
 
 (3( Babbitt, "The Hew Laokoon, " Chapter VI, 157 
 
 (2) Babbitt, "Rousseau and Romanticism," Chapter III, 94 
 
 (1) Madame de Stael, 'Gearaany, 0. W. v.'ritht, 1861, Vol.II, Chapter XII, 368 
 
 

 
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 which gives to historic romance a character radically different from the nys- 
 
 tery and wonder of classic art, I should define it as that conceit of th^rao- 
 
 tions which goes with the illusion of beholding the infinite within the stream 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 of nature herself, instead of apart from the stream,” 
 
 In sources, such a tendency, he thinlcs, goes back to the imion of Oriental 
 and Occidental civilization; Eastern religion and V?estern nhilosophy. In the 
 East religion has always been a vast, vague association ivith the divine, r. 
 sense of the infinite independent of the finite. To Aristotle as he discusses 
 the sense of the infinite in the ’’hicomachean Ethics” it is the pure sense of 
 evil,- ’’According to Aristotle,” More continues, ’’the active nature of man is 
 made up of desires, or iE 5 )ulses, which in themselves are incapable of self-res- 
 traint and are therefore limitless, - - - Furthermore, this limitlessness is of 
 the very nature of evil, v/here as good in itself may be defined as limit, - - 
 and the aim of conduct is to acquire that golden mean which is nothing other 
 
 than a certain bound set to the inherent limitlessness of our impulsive or de- 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 siring nature,” 
 
 With this difference of Oriental and Occidental sentiment towards the ia?? 
 finite there also went a corresponding difference in regard to the idea of per- 
 sonality, To the Western mind the sense of the Ego was sharply defined. The 
 Oriental, on the other hand, never attained to a clear conception of this entity 
 When the historical situation of alliance between the West and the East under 
 the Homan Eo^ire came about, two situations of union K-ere -possible,- the Oreek, 
 restricted sense of the infinite, and the vague Eastern ider* of the Ego; or the 
 Eastern infinite, limitless and vague, and the definite, shar'^ly defined Westeri 
 Ego, The coming of Christianity merged the Oriental conception of infinity 
 and the Occidental idea of personality and Romanticism resulted,- 
 
 "Kow it was the great work of the first Christian centuries to merge the 
 
 (2) Paul Elmer More, "The Drift of Romanticism,” Shelburne Essays, Eighth Ser- 
 ies, VI, 226 ” 
 
 (1) Paul Elmer More, ’’The Drift of Romanticism’; Shelburne Essays, Eighth Ser- 
 
 Introduction, 15 
 
5 
 
 Oriental and Occidental conceptions of infinity and ncrsonrl' Ly to-'otner Into 
 a strange and fruitful union, - - - To that alliance, if to any definite event 
 of history, we may trace the birth of our sense of an infinite, insatiable per- 
 sonality, that has brought as much self-torment and so much troubled beauty into 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 the religion and literature of the modern world.'* 
 
 Babbitt also thinics the spirit arose in emotional pastoralism, and he con- 
 demns the entire movement because of its “fruits in experience," This "Arcadian 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 longing, the pursuit of the dream woman, the aspiration toward the* infinite*," 
 led to the most depraved living and most extravagant decadentieL in artistic ex- 
 pression, The spirit was an outgrowth of the romantic imagination, the conse- 
 quent melting of man into outer natinre, which process took place through reveri e 
 "Had I, my dear Collins, the pen of Rousseau," wrote Southey in 1793,"! 
 would attenpt to desor^be the various scenes which have presented themselves to 
 me, and the various emotions occasioned by them, - — what sense can be more 
 
 calculated to e^and the soul than the sight of nature in all her loveliest 
 (3) 
 
 works?" And we may conpare Rousseau and Wordsworth;- Rousseau, as he descrnjec 
 
 the first savage, wandering forever under the shade of a?gnifiCent forests, or 
 
 by the side of mighty rivers, smit with the love of naturei- end Wordsv’orto, as 
 
 he exults over the discovery of the linnet's nest "with five eggs of blue." 
 
 "Both weave numberless recollections into one sentiment; both wind their own 
 
 ('i) 
 
 being round whatever object occurs to them." 
 
 Leslie Stephen takes the movement back to the seventeenth century deism. 
 
 Before that time man, content with a tutelary deity had held little controversy 
 
 over the general workings of the universe. But finally, "through the roof of 
 
 the little theatre on which the drama of maii*s history had been enacted, men 
 
 began to see the eternal stars shining in silent contempt ipon their petty im- 
 
 (4) "The Collected Y/orks of William Hazlitt,” A. R, Waller and Harold Glover, 
 
 Vol. I, "The Round Table," 3ssay,*"0n the Character of Rousseau," 92, 51 
 
 (3 1 Frederick E. Pierce, "Currents and Eddies in theEnglish Romantic Generation, 
 (E) Babbitt, "Rousseau and Romanticism, Chapter VIII, 278 
 (1) Paul Elmer More, "The Drift of Romanticism," Shelburne Essays, Seventh 
 Chapter I, 26 
 

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 aginings, They began to siispect that the wliole scenery was but a fabric woven 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 of their imaginations," Great astronomical and geographical discoveries 
 
 "enlarged men's conception - it is no paradox - of the Infinite. - - - The Uni- 
 
 ts) 
 
 verse, which had been potentially infinite was becoming actually infinite." 
 
 And it was the same tendency, for a long time dormant, which he thihfcs burst 
 forth in the romanticist’s desire for the new and the strange. Of such a birth 
 is Wordworth's wish that he could be "a pagan suckled in some creed outworn." 
 
 Y/hatever is the true analysis of the main source of the motiv,^^ting snirit 
 of the romantic movement, it must have been connected with pome exaggerated ten- 
 dency of man's own nature,- Ms egoistic tendency to expand in the direction of 
 his own personal desires, his pastoral enjoyment of nature as nature helped liim 
 to realize Mmself, his desire for variety and change in life, Ms spiritual 
 thirst for an unattainable ideal outside of nature, or desire for the effort 
 which would carry him away from the established order of tMngs,- All of these 
 tendencies entered, more or less into Ms "sense of the infinite," 
 
 Perhaps the spirit arose, as iiadame de dtaal,says, when the sense of a 
 spiritual force, always a human quality, became not a burden but instead an en- 
 joyment and an inspiration to the soul. She centers the chief difference be- 
 tween the romantic and classic sense of the infinite in the variation between 
 
 Christianity and Paganism. She, too, links the spirit with nature, but in a 
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 different way,- "Nature has arrayed the infinite in symbols," and here she give! 
 a hint justifying the romantic use of symbols in artistic expression. So inde- 
 terminable is this sense of the infinite that only through symbols can it be 
 expressed in human terms, 
 
 Oliver Elton thinks the Romantic Movement has to do with t:ie "convslescenc 
 
 (4) 
 
 of the feeling for beauty," not an interest in "streaigeness in ^eauty" or the 
 
 "sense of wonder,"- such terms may do, so Arthur Symons says as literary short- 
 
 (4) Oliver Elton, "A Survey of /jnglish Literature," - 1780-1830 -Vol.l, GhapX,9 
 (3) Madame de Stael, Germany, 0, W, vvright, Vol.II, Chapter I, E90 
 (2)Leslle,3tephen,"English Thought in the Eighteenth Century," Yol.I, Chap. II, 8 
 
 ( Leslie Stephen, "English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, "Yol.I, Chap. ll, 81 
 

* ( 1 ) 
 
 hand, as lihtthev/ Arnold’s phrase, ’the critioisra of life;’- but the real source 
 
 of the spirit is found in the rejuvinated senses of the artist. This he gains 
 
 as Walter Bagehot says, by,-"Much musing, little studying, fair scholarship, an 
 
 atmosphere of the classics, curious fancies, much persuing of pamphlets, light 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 thoughts on heavy folios," -all of which raalte the meditative, inactive attitude 
 on the part of the poet, nature comes forth from the baclcground and assumes a 
 different aspect. The roruantic poets saw nature wrapped in the haze of the im- 
 agination. Wordsworth, perhaps, as Arthur Symons imagines, saw the objects of 
 that nature in pure white light; Keats caught them in a prism of his own; and 
 Shelley, no doubt, saw them all bathed in white moonbeams. 
 
 But the romanticistliiimself thought that in his sense of the infinite he 
 had acquired something different. Evolution meant more than Darwin had estab- 
 lished and Huzley surmised. It spelled greater ’’possibility.’* Looking at sci- 
 ence in its relation to an incalcuable infinite he saw possibilities of grMp*' 
 ing, by his own enlarged, human means, the indeterminable. In defiance of the 
 
 doctrine, ”The human mind remains essentially the same and varies only as one 
 
 (3) 
 
 or another element comes uppermost,” -the romanticist claimed evolution to be 
 extended to an inteUectual and spiritual growth into infinity. 
 
 Time to him, then, meant nothing. - 
 
 ”Yet pause, and plunge 
 Into Eternity, where recorded time. 
 
 Even all that we imagine, age on age. 
 
 Seems but a point, and the reluctant mind 
 Flags wearily in its unending flignt, 
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 Till it sihK, dizzy, blind, lost, shelterless;" 
 
 (4) Shelley, "Pometheus Unbound," Shelley's "Oomplete Poetical works," 
 
 (3) p!l!S”tor^»rer'*S^e^Brilt of Bomantlolsm," Shelburne Essays, Eighth 
 (E) "?^e"«“Llf; of ^alter Bagehot," Eussell Barrington, Vol. I, 
 
 (1) ;^ons7''“CRo^tio"^vement in ^Ush Poetry, " Introduction 17 
 

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9 
 
 From things deformed, or disarranged, or gross 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 In species?" 
 
 "With respect to original sin the inquiry is not necessary;" Jo'nnaon said on 
 one occasion when Boswell approached him on the subject to original sin and at- 
 onement, -"for men are evidently and confessedly so corrupt, that all the laws 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 of heaven and earth are insufficient to restrain them from crimes," But BidBrob 
 reflecting the romanticist’s ideals, says in answer to the Poet's question - 
 ^Do you mean to say that human nature is good?" 
 
 "Yes, my friend, it is very good. Water, air, earth, fire,- everything in 
 nature is good, It is wretched conventionalities that pervert man. Human 
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 nature should not be accused,” 
 
 Through his relation to the infinite the romanticist felt his freedom, his 
 
 lacic of need for dependence upon restraint in anything. So Franhe speaks of the 
 
 joyous optimism of the age. It believed in a future. It believed in humanity, 
 
 and that humanity was advancing toward perfection. It held that "the time must 
 
 come when good would be done because it was good; when instinct and duty would 
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 be reconciled," 
 
 With the lack of restraint went a faith in the illimitrble creative ;cover 
 of man. So Hugo says in his Preface to "Cromwell,"- "Behold, then, © new relig- 
 ion and a new society; upon this two-fold foundation there must inevitably spring 
 (5) 
 
 a new poetry," And Madame de Stael says, "The infinite consists in the absence 
 of limits, but the feeling of the infinite, such as the imagination and heart 
 
 Ci) 
 
 experience is positive and creative," 
 
 (6) Hadame de Stael, "Germany," Vol.II, 268 
 
 (5) Victor Hugo, Preface to"Gromwell," "iifuropean Theories of the Drama," Barett 
 H. Clark 368 
 
 (4) PranJce, "Social Forces in German Literature," 330 
 
 (3) Diderot, De la Poesie dramatique. Oiluvies ed. Assezat,-1875- Vii, 312, quot- 
 \ ed by Bernbaum, "The Drama of Sensibility;" chapter I, 2 
 
 (5) James Boswell, "Life of Johnson, G. B, Hill, Vol. IV, 123 
 
 (1) William whitehead. "The Jinthusiast," Bernbaum, "iSnglish Poets of the eight- 
 eenth Century, 150 
 
— — 1 
 
 Out of his sense of the infinite the romanticist constructed a new philoso- 
 phy of life, and adopted a new system of ethics. According to his idea the pasi 
 with its old restrictions and its crusty conventions was to be sloughed off, anc 
 humanity was to spring forth in “newness of life," As expressed in "Faust, 
 
 In loftiest flight, fancy still strives amain 
 To reach its limit, but still strives in vain- 
 
 Yet minds who dare behind the veil to press, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 In the Unbounded, bounded faith possess," 
 
 Out of his "boundless" faith in the "Unbounded" grew certain romantic relation- 
 ships with himself, his ideal, and his expression of himself and thrt ideal, in 
 which we are particularly interested under the romantic ten ency toward reverie 
 symbolism, and enthusuasm, 
 
 (1) Charles M. Baicewell, "The Philosophy of G<xthe‘s Faust," Chapter IV, 92 
 
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11 
 
 ROMANTIC REVERI3 
 
 The romanticist, by means of reverie, partook of a sort of infinitude. In 
 conter^jlation sense impressions were dravjn out, - the kiss of b moment becrtme 
 a life-long memory, the scene of singular beauty became rn enduring after-image, 
 the experience of sorrow steeped the emotions in a sentiment to be enjoyed in 
 retrospect, - and in seasons of reverie all such impressions lived lastingly. 
 With Keats the romanticist could exclaim, - 
 
 "On the shore 
 
 Of the wide world- I stand alone and think." (1) 
 
 On the brink of eternity with contemplations, dreams, visions, the romanticist 
 sent his mind into infinity. "My mind to me a kingdom is," he could exclaim 
 with introspective interest, and life itself became a period for the passive 
 enjoyment of that kingdom. 
 
 Reverie was dependent upon leisure, and was the hectic phase of meditation 
 wnich resulted in feverish philosophy, ardent romantic longing, and irrevelant 
 romantic expression. Ghatraubriand who tried to find (jod and the human soul 
 through romantic reverie says, - 
 
 "I love all waste 
 
 And solitary places; where we taste 
 
 The pleasure of believing what we see 
 
 Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be." (2) 
 
 2. Babbitt, "Ronssean and Romanticism" quoted from description of Ma"ns seen 
 by moonlight, 284. 
 
 1. Alden, "Introduction to Poetry", p.29. 
 
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More, in liis "Drift of HonaanticisEi''q.uotes Y;alter Pater, - "V/hile all melts under 
 
 our feet, vie may well grasp at any exq.uisite passion or any contribution to 
 
 knowledge that seems by a lifting of the horizon to set the spirit free for a 
 
 moment, or any stirring of the senses, strange dyes, strange colors, and curious 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 odours, or the work of the artist’s hands or the face of one's friends." 
 
 In the "eternal flux of things" success in life depends, always, upon burning 
 
 with this "hard gem-like flame," and maintaining this ecstacy. And the way to 
 
 live life to its fullest according to these principles is by moans of reverie 
 
 and leisure, with senses which are sharpened by a "certain chastity of use," 
 
 Ronssean was the most sincere devotee of this sort of religion of the senses. 
 
 He often said that his experiences were more vivid in memory then they were 
 
 in actuality. Babbitt holds that he confused "mefiita'ion" anc! "reverie." 
 
 Mosley and others hold that he v;as a more thoughtful crertor th?n voltf?ire* but 
 
 the fact remains that with him "reverie" was a process of extracting tne essence 
 
 of an esqperience in memory, and v;as not closely connected either with thought or 
 
 creation, though it might have been a background for both. 
 
 Hazljtt felt the spirit in Ronssean and responded to it. - "ijalk of the 
 
 ideall" This is the only true ideal - the heavenly tints of fancy reflected in 
 
 the bubbles tliat float upon the spring tide of human life. 
 
 "Oh memory, shield me from the world's poor strife 
 And give these scenes thine everlasting lifel " (2) 
 
 In the same spirit he writes of Ronssean' s "Confessions", - "sweet is the dew 
 
 (3) 
 
 of their memory, and pleasant the balm of their recollection." And again he 
 
 says, "’IThat to me constitutes the great charm of the "Confessions" of Ronssean 
 
 is their turning so much upon this feeling, (i.e. of recollection). He seems 
 
 3. "The Collected V/orks of Wm.Hazlitt" (A.R.Waller and Arnold Glover) Vol.YIII, 
 Essay XX, "Cn Reading Old Books", 227. 
 
 2, "The Collected worlcs of VAn.Hazlitt" (A.R.V/aller and Arnold Glover) Vol.VIII, 
 Essay XX, "On Reading Old Books", 222, 
 
 1. E.P.More, "The Drift of Romanticism", Ch.Walter pater, 109, 
 

 
 
 
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 to gather up the past moments of his being like drops of honey-dew to distil a 
 
 precious liquor from them, his alternate pleasures and pains are the bead roll 
 
 that he tells over and piously worships; he makes a rosary of the flowers of 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 hope and fancy that strewed his earliest yesrs,” 
 
 There are sonnets of Bowles which ’’continue the elegr-ic strain of Shenrtone, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 Gray, Collins and the whole II Penseroso school,” 
 
 ’’There is strange music in the stirring wind 
 
 When lowers the autumn eve, and all alone 
 
 To the dark woods’ cold cover thou, art gone 
 
 Whose ancient trees, on the rough slope reclined, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Rock, and at times scatter their tresses sear.” 
 
 Here is the ’’autumnal” note which Babbitt remarks is ciiaracteristic of romantic 
 reverie and sentiment toward ziatxjre. 
 
 Samuel Sogers in his ”Pleasures of Memory” sets forth joys of solitude and 
 recollection,- 
 
 ”Hail, Memory, haill thy universal reign 
 Guards the least link of being’s glorious chain.” 
 
 (3) 
 
 Prom her ’’the bosom-spring of fancy flows;” from her ”Hope her airy coloring 
 draws . ” 
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 ”Sol Memory bursts the twilight of the mind” 
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 ”She is the sacred gaestl the immortal friend!” 
 
 (5) Samuel Rogers, ”The Pleasures of Memory,” ”The poeticKl Works of Ssmuel 
 Rogers.” (Sdvjard Bell) 19 
 
 (4) Samuel Rogers, ’’The Pleasures of Memory,” ’’The Poetical Works of Samuel 
 Rogers.” (Edward BaL 1) 18 
 
 (3) Samuel Rogers, ’’The Pleasures of Memory,” ’’The Poetical Works of Samuel 
 Ro ger s . ” ( Edv/ar d B eL 1 ) 15 
 
 (2) Bowles, Sonnet XX, “November," Beers, ”A History of English Romanticism In 
 The Hineteenth Century.” Chapter III, Rote 61. 
 
 (1) Beers, ”A History of English Romanticism In The Sineteenth Century,” 
 Chapter III, 59, 
 
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She is courted when. 
 
 14 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 ”Twilight*s soft dews steal oter the village green” 
 and as the Gothic tower awes more deeply at evening, - with its “hroicen arch 
 and ivied wall,” so, - 
 
 Oft at the silent, shadowy close of day, 
 
 When the hushed grove has sung its parting lay; 
 
 V/hen pensive Twilight, in her duslcy car. 
 
 Comes slowly on to meet the evening-star; 
 
 Above, below, aerial murmurs swell, 
 
 Prom hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell I 
 A thousand nameless rijls, that shun the light. 
 
 Stealing soft music on the ear of night. 
 
 So oft the finer movements of + the soul. 
 
 That shun the sphere of Pleasure’ s gs>y control. 
 
 In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 And breathe their sweet, seraphic harmonies;" 
 
 And at last the "fond Enthusiast” comes forth exultantly, - 
 
 "Hail, Memory, hail; in they exhaustless mine 
 From age to age unnumbered treasures shinel 
 Thought and her sliadowy brood thy call obey. 
 
 And Place and Time are subject to thy swayl 
 Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone; 
 
 The only pleasures we can call our own* 
 
 Lifter than air, Hope*s summer-vision die. 
 
 If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; 
 
 If but a beam of sober Keason play, 
 
 (2) Samuel Hogers, "The Pleasures of Elemory,” "The Poetical Works of Samuel 
 Eogers.” (Edward Bell) 22 
 
 (1) Samuel Hogers, "The Pleasures of Memory,” "The poetical Works of Samuel 
 Rogers." (Edward Bell) 4 
 
*v 
 
It 
 
 So, Fancy* s fairy frost-worJc melts avvayl 
 But can the v/iles of Art, the grasp of Power 
 Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? 
 
 These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight. 
 
 Pour round her path a stream of living light; 
 
 And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 *»hose Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest 
 
 William Hazlitt in his essay ”0n the Past and Future” seys,-”Ye woods that 
 crown the clear lone brow of Horman Court, why do I revisit ye so oft, and feel 
 a soothing consciousness of your presence, but that your iiigh tops waving in the 
 wind recall to me the. hours and years that are forever fled, that ye renew in 
 
 ceaseless murmurs the story of long-cherished hopes and bitter disappointments, 
 that in your solitudes andtangled wilds I can wonder and lose myself as I wan- 
 der on and am lost in the solitude of my own heart; and that as your rustling 
 branches give the loud blast to the waste below - borne on the thoughts of other 
 years, I can looh down into patient anguish at the cheerless desolation which i 
 feel withini” Without that face pale as the primrose with hyncinthine locks, 
 for ever shunning and for ever haxmting me, mocking my wrking thoughts as in ^ 
 dream, without that smile which my heart could never turn to scorn, without those 
 eyes, dark with their own lustre, still bent on mine, and drawing tne soul into 
 their liquid mazes like a sea of love, without that name trembling in fancy’s 
 
 ear, without that form gliding before me like Oread or Dryad in fabled groves, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 what should I do, how pass away the listless, leaden-footed hours?” 
 
 Here is the love element in reverie, which grew into such exa^erated visions 
 
 as those of Shelley’s **Alastor” and "i^ipsychidion.” In the former Shelley 
 
 2. ”The Collected Y/orks of William Hazlett” (Y/.S. Henley) Yol, YI, Essay m, 
 ”0n the Past and Future”, 24, 
 
 1, Samuel Roger’s, ”The Pleasures of Memory”, ”The podtical Works of Samuel 
 Rogers”. (Edward Bell) 29. 
 

16 
 
 says of th .0 Poet, wiio typifies himself, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 "He lived, he died, he sxmg in^solitude." 
 
 And, the - (2) 
 
 ...."poet icept mute conference with his own soul." 
 
 "I do not ash God," Gerard de Dov/al is said to have remarhed," that he 
 
 should change me in regard to things, so that I mi^t iiave the power to create 
 
 (3) 
 
 my o\m xmi verse about me, to govern my dreams, instead of enduring them." 
 
 And in accordance with an::j.ch a v/ish he did live the "inner life of a dreamer;" 
 but it is a grim truth that he created his best work in periods of insanity. 
 Wordsworth, in his, - 
 
 (^) 
 
 "pays of sweet leisure taxed with patient thought" 
 felt the spirit of solitude and linked it with nature and humole humanity. - 
 "I wandered lonely as a cloud 
 That floats on high o’er vales and hills 
 When all at once I saw a crowd, 
 
 A host, of holden daffodils; 
 
 Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 
 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 
 
 I gazed - and gazed - but little thought 
 What wealth the show to me had brought; 
 
 For oft, when on my couch I lie 
 In vacant or in pensive mood. 
 
 They flash upon that inward eye 
 Which is the bliss of solitude; 
 
 4. V/ordsworth,”T}ae Prelude", "Wordsworth’s Complete poetical works" (Cambridge 
 Edition) 125. 
 
 3. Arthur Symons, "The Symbolist Movement" Chapter III, 69. 
 
 2, Shelley, "Alastor","Shelley’ s Complete Poetical Works" (Cambridge Edition) 37 
 1. Shelley, "Alastor", "Shelley’s Complete Poetical Works" (Cambridge Wdition) 37 
 
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Wero discord to the spealcing quietude 
 
 That v;raps this moveless scene. Heaven’s eboh vault. 
 
 Studded with stars unuttera .ly bri{jht, 
 
 xhrou^ -Wiiich the moon’s unclouded grandeur rolls. 
 
 Seem like a canopy which love has spread 
 
 To curtain her sleer)ing v;orld. Yon gentle xiills. 
 
 Robed in a garment of untrodden snow; 
 
 Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend. 
 
 So stainless, that their white and gleaming spires 
 
 Tinge not the moon’s pure beam; your castled steep, 
 
 Vi/hose banner hangeth o’er t2ie time-worn tower 
 
 So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it 
 
 A metaphor of peace; all form a scene 
 
 V.Tiere musing solitude might love to lift 
 
 Her soul above this sphere of earthiness; 
 
 v/here silence undisturbed might watch alo'ne, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 So cold, so bright, so still,” 
 
 There was something in a dark midnight which acted as an anaesthetic to 
 
 the day-sense and left free rein to tlmt spirit which would coimaane with 
 
 self or enjoy the ’’voluptuous pain” of sorrovv or or death. This joy in 
 
 sorrow may have been -Dsyciio logical, since one extreme of emotion awakes its 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 opposite;” yet if it v/as psychological it was so for a whole community 
 of early writers. Young v;as one of the earliest to feel the influence 
 of night upon sentiment, and his ’’Right Thoughts,” - new in form and inspir- 
 ation, though old in philosophy, worked a strong influence on other dreaming 
 
 (2) Words'worth in his "Lines Y/ritten in -“arly Spring” speaivs about it, - 
 
 "In that sv/eet mood when pleasant thoughts 
 Bring sad thoughts to the mind," 
 
 (!) Shelley, "Queen'lfab," "Shelleyfe Complete Poetical Works.” (Crnnbrldge 
 Edition) 
 
romanticists. { 1) The ‘’mood” of it v;as wliat captivated lingland, France and 
 Germany. 
 
 "Are passions, then, the pagans of the soul, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Seasons alone baptized?" 
 
 struch another blow at reason and justified the later cult of passionate 
 romanticists. 
 
 Fovalis in his "Hymn to Si^t" and the "restless stars that swim in the 
 blue sea," - says of its peace, - 
 
 "To Thee, ohl Sacred, Unspeakable Sight I 
 Par away the world 
 
 Lies buried as if in some deep grave. 
 
 How deserted and lonely are her high places I 
 
 « 
 
 Par off lies the world 
 With its gaudy delights. 
 
 Hast thou, too a human heart, 
 
 Lark Sight? 
 
 More celestial than the gliranering stars 
 Of these spaces 
 Seem the invisible eyes 
 (2) Young, "Sight Thoughts." 
 
 (1) Boswell's "Johnson," {&. 3. Hill) Vol. IV, 42. - Johnson in a discussion 
 one day when he seemed to prefer Young's descriptions of night to those of 
 Shalcespeare or Dryden, - ended, "Young froths and foams and bubbles sometimes 
 vary vigorously; but we must not con^jare the noise of your tea-kettle with 
 the roaring of the ocean," 
 
That Night 
 
 ?0 
 
 (K 
 
 Opens v/ithin us." 
 
 And Madame de Stall, in alluding to night and the introspective mind com- 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 pares the brilliant dust of the raillsy way to thoughts lost in the infinite, 
 
 Thomas War ton in "The Pleasures of Melancholy" thrills the thought, - 
 
 "0 then }iow fearful it is to reflect 
 
 That through the still globe* s awful solitude 
 
 (5) 
 
 Wo being wakes but rael" 
 
 But his adjectives of fear inroly a joy in the "sacred genius of the night" 
 with its mystic visions. 
 
 Out of these night thoughts end contemplations sprumg the desire to 
 
 philosophize upon death. Throughout all such egressions there is the 
 
 attempt to touch, by means of ideas, tne ineffable, intangible infinitude 
 
 of the spirit. The unhealtliy melancholy of night, and the projection of 
 
 the personality upon itself led to the attempt to sense the beyond. There 
 
 is Parnell* s "Wight Piece on Death, 1721," in pseudo-classic form with its 
 
 unpleasant allusions to graves that "nameless heave the crumbled ground," 
 
 and with its rather smugly melancholy conclusion that, - 
 
 "Death* s but a path that must be trod 
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 If man would ever pass to G-od," 
 
 But the atmosphere and inspiration of the thing is decidedly that to a 
 romanticist in a mood of reverie, 
 
 Blair in "The Grave," about twenty-two years later (1743) talces the same 
 
 theme, adds more ghosts and strange noises, - both romantic preferences a 
 
 (4) Thomas Parnell, "A Wight Piece on ^eath," Berbaum, "Poets of the Eighteenth 
 Century," 85 
 
 (3) Thomas li7arton, "The Pleasures of Melancholy," Berbaum, "poets of the 
 Eighteenth Onetury," 175 
 (2) "Germany, "Madame de Stael, Vol. II, 289 
 
 (1) Wovalis, "Hymn to Wight," "The Descinlep of Spi? p.nd Other Fr'-gments." 
 (Transl. Ger., with Introduction, Una Tirch) 
 

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 a little amplified,- and concludes that, 
 
 «»Tis but a night, a long and moonless night, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 vVe make our grave our bed, and then are gone,” 
 
 It is the same theme which Gray, in such x^erfect langizage retells in 
 the”Slegy.” It is this poem which Bagehot in his essay on Hartley Coleridge 
 refers to as the early romantic lyric most nearly approaching what he defines 
 as the "egotistical” literary product. The egotistical poem is one 7 /hich is 
 a pure expression of self - not as a lyric, merely a reflection of a phase 
 of self, one single emotion, - but the type of expression which is permeated 
 with all of self. 
 
 Young touches upon the grasp of the infinite in hianan woe more surely 
 than the later writers. He does it with a melancholy richness of emotion 
 and a throbbing sympathy of mind and heart which denotes real pler.sare in psin, 
 
 ”Ky hopes and fears 
 
 Start up alarmed, and o’er life’s narrow verge 
 Lools down - On wliat? a fathomless abyss; 
 
 A dread eternity I how surely mine. 
 
 And can eternity belong' to me. 
 
 Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour? 
 
 Hov/ poor, how rich, hov; abject, how august, 
 
 How con-plicate, how wonderful, is man I 
 How passing vrander He, who made him suchl 
 YThocentered in our make such strange extremes I 
 From different natures marvelously mixt. 
 
 Connection exquisite of distant worlds; 
 
 Distinguished link in being’s endless chain; 
 
 (1) Hebert Blair, "The Grave,” Berbaum, "Poets of the Eighteenth Century,” 3£ 
 
?? 
 
 liidTTay from nothing to Deityl 
 
 Helpless immortal: insect infinite: 
 
 A worm: a God: I tremble at myself. 
 And in myself am lost: 
 
 Oh what a miracle to man is manl” 
 
 Out 01 such rexlections and meditations upon man in his relation to infinity 
 
 grew allusions to man and his relation to tne lesser entities of the universe. 
 
 The same breath which could utter, "A worm’, a godj” in a characterization of 
 
 man, could later voice ideas concerning the conceived connection between the 
 
 two. Through reverie the individual entered into relationship with nature and 
 
 htiraanity as a whole, iTordsworth could spealc in general of a ’’granduer in 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 the beations of the heart,” 
 
 “Viihile with an eye made quiet by the power 
 
 Of harmony , and the power of joy, 
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 We see into the life of things," 
 
 Byron feels this mystic fellowship for nature, - 
 
 ”I live not in myself, but I become 
 
 (4) 
 
 Portion of that around me,” 
 
 The strength of it sweeps over him in solitude, 
 
 ”V/hen stirs the feeling infinite, so felt 
 In solitude when we are least alone; 
 
 A truth which throgh our being then doth melt 
 
 And purifies from self; it is a tone, 
 
 (fc) Wordsworth, ''Growth of a Poet’s liind,” ’’Twelve Centuries of English 
 Poetry and Prose,” Eewcomer and Andrews, 421, 
 
 (1) Young, "ITight Thoughts,” Chalmers XIII, 420, 
 
 (3) Vvordsworth, "Tintern Abbey,” ’’Twelve Centuries of English Poetry and irose' 
 
 Newcomer and Andrews, 417. 
 
 (4) Byron, "Childe Harold,” 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 Tae soul and source of mxisic, which makes known 
 
 Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm. 
 
 Like to the fahled Qy therea’s zone 
 
 Binding all things with beauty; t'would disarm 
 
 The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm,” (1) 
 
 'Wordsworth sounds the same note again, more subjectively, 
 
 ”And I have felt 
 
 A presence that disturbs me with joy. 
 
 Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime 
 
 Of something far more deeply interfused. 
 
 Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns. 
 
 And the fovNb AceA/v and the living air 
 
 And the blue sky, and the mind of man; 
 
 A motion, and a spirit, that iE 5 >els 
 
 All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
 
 (2) (3) 
 
 And rolls through all things,” 
 
 Then, out of this sort of reverie and solitude grew mystical religion and 
 pantheism, Man as a part of nature, sensing his kinship, and indiscriminately 
 mixing his spirit through all things let loose his emotions tgjon the theme of 
 religion and nature, 
 
 3, Hazlitt, Vol, I, "Essay on Mr, Wordsworth’s Excursion”, 112, - ”He may be 
 said to create his own materials; his thoughts are his real subjects. His 
 understanding broods over that which is ’without form and void’ and ’makes 
 it pregnant,' He sees all things in himself, - Thus his descriptions of 
 natural scenery are not brought home distinctly to the naked eye by forms 
 and circumstances, but every object is seen through the medium of innumerable 
 recollections, is clothed with the haze of irasginahion like a glittering 
 vapour, is obscured with the excess of glory, and has the shadowy brightness 
 of a waking dream,” 
 
 2, Words?;orth, "Tintern Abbey”, "Twelve Centuries of English poetry and Prose” 
 (Hewcomor and Andrews) 417 
 1, Byron, "Childe Harold”, Canto III, 90, 
 

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 ro reverence the volume timt displays 
 
 The mysteries, the life which ca nn ot die; 
 
 But in the mountains did he feel his faith 
 
 All things responsive to the writing there 
 
 Breathed immortality, revolving life. 
 
 And greatness still, revolving , infinite; 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 There littleness was not.” 
 
 The same idea, in a revolt against the world as sin^jly a mass of little t.. 
 
 things comes forth in Coleridge’s “Biographia Literaria.” ”Hiy mind feels as if 
 
 it ached to behold and know something great, something one and indivisible. 
 
 And it is only in the faith of that, tliat rocks or waterfalls, motaitains or 
 
 caverns give me the sense of sublimity of majesty] But in this faith all things 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 counterfeit infinity!’.’ 
 
 Coleridge’s - ’’all things counterfeit infinity” expresses a basis for 
 
 romantic symbolism, which Schelling in "Transcendental Idealism" expresses 
 
 ' 
 
 another way,- "every single work of art represents I-'-tfini ty!" 
 
 With animate nature the romanticist rather tardily foimd his kinship. 
 
 Henry Booke in 1735 gave forth his theory in "Universal Beauty.” He insisted 
 
 upon a deity in every atom shrined" and err^hasiaed the "Splendor of insects," 
 
 (3) 
 
 "morals from animal life,"- and the promptings of "divine instinct." Blake 
 later in "Auguries of Innocence" says,- 
 
 (3) Henry Booke, "Universal Beauty," Bernbaum, "English Poets of the Eighteenth 
 
 Century", 341 
 
 (2) Alden, "Introduction to Poetry, "11 
 
 Schelling, "Transcendental Idealism," LXVII, LXVIII 
 (1) Coleridge, "Biographia Literaria," J. Showeress, 1907 
 
?5 
 
 To see a world in a grain of sand. 
 
 And a heaven in a wild flower. 
 
 Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 And Eternity in an hour,” 
 
 And in another place he sings, - 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 »*Por everything that lives is holyl” 
 
 From sentiments lilce these arose an organized human feeling, voicing 
 
 (3) 
 
 Hugo's, "Love all things, pity all.” 
 
 Children came in for their share of interest and children's noems stinted 
 and queer, lihe Cowper's early ones, found expression, it was liice the 
 evolution of the child in art, from the stunted, miniature, man-infants of the 
 early Christian art period, - to the perfectly formed children representative 
 of Haphael's Christ, Wordsworth meditates upon it, - 
 
 "But trailing clouds of glory do we come 
 Prom God, who is our home: 
 
 ( 4 :) 
 
 Heaven lies about us in our infancyl" 
 
 (4) Words\7orth, "Intimations on Immortality,” V 
 
 Compare to Wordsworth's verses these selected lines from Vaughn's 
 "The Hetreat,” appearing 1650# 
 
 "Happy those early days, when I 
 Shined in ray angel infancy; 
 
 When on some gilded cloud or flower 
 My gazing soul would dwell an hour. 
 
 And in those waking glories spy 
 Some shadows of eternity. 
 
 And felt through all this fleshly dress 
 Bright shoots of everlastingness,” 
 
 "English Poems,” Bronson {1550-1560) 
 
 (3) Hugo, "Lyrical Poems” (Henry Lewellyn Williams) 170 - "Poem to ray Daughter*' 
 "Hate nothing, 0 my child, but all things love. 
 
 Or pity alll" 
 
 (2) V/illiam Blake, "A Song of Liberty,” Berba^mn, "Poets of the Eighteenth 
 Century,” 334 
 
 (1) William Blake, "Auguries of Innocence," Bernbaura, "Poets of the 
 Ei^teenth Century," 339 
 
P6 
 
 The climax of such expression came in Tennyson’s ”De Profundis,” for he 
 says as he meditates upon the birth of his son, - 
 
 "Out of the deep, ray child, out of the de^. 
 
 Prom that true world within the world v;e see. 
 
 Whereof our world is but the bounding shore. 
 
 Among the numerable - innumerable 
 
 Sun, Sun, and sun, throu^ finite- infinite space 
 
 In finite-infinite Time - our mortal veil 
 
 And shatter’d phantom of that infinite One 
 
 Who made thee inconceivably Tliyself 
 
 Out of his whole World - self and all in all - 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 Live thoul’’ 
 
 And Lord Macaulay asserts, "He who, in a lightened literary society, j^soires 
 
 (?) 
 
 to be a great poet, must first become a little cMld," 
 
 Then, touching again the more subjective phase of reverie, love longing 
 
 stands out as a distinctive feature of the romantic movement. Rougseau 
 
 live4it; he wrote it in his ’’Houvelle Heloise" and ’’Confessions.” Shelley 
 
 touched it at its most poetic point in ’’Alastor." It was a phase of egoism 
 
 which saw self inflected in some sort of ideal love," in love with love" is 
 
 how Babbitt c liar ac ter izes the exaggerated evidence of the emotion. Sometimes, 
 
 as in Byron’s "Don Juan" this romantic love tools: the fom of passion and 
 
 unliJicenced sentiment. It liad its various phases, most generally expressing 
 
 itself in wild longing and "dalliance with its own dream," Poe e:roressed it 
 
 in his unreal dream women in stories of moonlight and exquisite sorrow. The 
 
 lack of ethics in the romantic love relationship was more a matter of variation 
 
 (2) Macaulay, "Essay on Milton," "The Miscellaneous Works of Lord Macaulay," 
 (Lady Trevelyan) (Comoiseur Edition) 
 
 (1) Tennyson, "De Profundis," Cambridge Edition, 483 
 
1 
 
f 7 
 
 between ideal and life, than any direct disregard of moral principles. 
 
 It went back to tiie Medieval Ages in inspiration. I>ante*s Beatrice, 
 Boccaccio’s Piacunetta, and Petrarch’s Laura are back of ideal women. - 'Biere 
 was, too, a link joining this sort of idealism and the religious idealism 
 which earlier formed the Virgin cult, The spirit expresses itself in the 
 whole movement’s tendency to the medieval. 
 
 It was not a far step from the philosophical reverie that connoted self, 
 nature and its various forms, and passionate longing, to the sort of reverie 
 which exalted the past over the present. Reverie, in any sense, whether of 
 vague suppositions in regard to human relationships, of love longing, or of the 
 ideal experiences of childhood, was dependent upon past happenings,- however 
 roseate they might have appeared in retrospect, Beside the merely subjective 
 interest in the past, which through Cowper in England and Roursesu in Prance 
 introducing the "confessional” type of romantic writer,- there was the interest 
 just mentioned in touching romantic love, which had the tinge of idealism. 
 
 From Byron' s,- 
 
 ”Ie scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 Smbitters.-ithe present conpared with the past,” 
 
 and Novalis’s 
 
 "iSie Dramas of childhood 
 
 The short Joys 
 
 Of all a long life. 
 
 In vain hopes. 
 
 Come in dark garments 
 
 Like evening mists 
 
 After the Sun’s 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Setting,” 
 
 (2) iTovalis, ”The Disciples of Sais and Other Fragments", (translated' from Germ^sn) 
 "Hymn to Eight,” 
 
 (1) Byron, "On the Distant View of the Village,” Cambridge edition, 96 
 
a- " 
 
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 which exalt the esperiences of childhood, there is not a great distance in 
 
 sentiment to the romantic exaltation of the primitive state of nature. Hazlit'. 
 
 speaks of the Ba?t ,-*»The objects that we have known in our better days are 
 
 the main props that sustain tne weight of our affections and give us strength 
 
 to await our future lot. I’he future is like a dead wall or a thick mirt hiding 
 
 all objects from our view: trie past is alive end stirring with objects bright 
 
 or solemn and of unfading interest. All that strikes the imagination, or 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 excites any interest in the mighty scene is what has be_eni ” 
 
 Only a little reverie and imagination was req,uired to extend in in^assiOn- 
 ed recollection Wordsworth's definition of poetry as '•emotion recalled in tran- 
 quility,” to wiiat Babbitt calls the “narcotic use of literature and history,” 
 which made of the records of the past a gorgeous pageant, A queer anonymous 
 poem appeared in 1732 called the "Happy Savage, 
 
 "Oh happy he who never saw the face 
 Of man, nor heard the sound of human voice! 
 
 But soon as born was carried and exposed 
 In some vast desert, suckled by the wolf 
 0r shaggy bear, more kind than our fell race; 
 
 Who with his fellow brutes can range around 
 The echoing forest. His rude artless mind 
 Uncultivated as the soil, he Joins 
 The dreadful harmony of howling wolves. 
 
 And the fierce lions roar; while far sway 
 The affrighted traveler retires and tremoles. 
 iis-PPy "the lonely savage! nor deceived, 
 
 I'lor vexed, nor grieved; in every darksome cave. 
 
 Under some verdant shade, he talces repose. 
 
 Sweet are his slumbers: of all h uman arts 
 (1) ifihe Sollected Works of William Hazlett (W. ii. Henley) Vol. VI. 
 
 Ussaylll, ”0n the Past and Future,” 25 
 

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Novalis, 
 
 29 
 
 Happily ignorant, nor taught by wisdom 
 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 numberless woes , nor polished into torment. 
 
 as ever lirifcing vague religion and romanticism, says,- 
 
 "With the ancients Beligion was what it should be with us,- 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 practical Poetry." 
 
 And Wordsworth in his conqDlaint, "The World is too Much with Us," exclaims, - 
 "Great Godl I*d rather be 
 
 (3) 
 
 A Pagan suclcled in a creed outworn;*' 
 
 Such reverie embracing past life, medieval life, or primitive exiptence, 
 with the "blue f'lawer" symbolism, vague Arcadian longing and ITtonir.n dreams, 
 represented, indeed, the inactive phrase of romanticism, A romanticist in 
 solitude thinking over his ideal experience of cnildhood, or love v/as an idle 
 person practicing "dalliance with his own dream." But such a spirit gave birth 
 to two centuries of lyrical verse in various extravagances of emotion. It 
 also gave birth to wild and unreasonable longings, passions, and e:q)ressions. 
 But it was the romantic dreamer inspired with romantic enthusiasm who attempt- 
 ed to move the world along. 
 
 (3) Wordsworth, "The World is too Much With Us." 
 
 (2) Hovalis, "Selected Thoughts, The Disciples of Sais and Other Fragments.” 
 translated from Greiman. with Introduction,Una Brich. 76 
 (1) "The Happy Savage," Anonymous. Bombaum, "Poets of the Sixteenth Century,” 
 
 page 121 
 

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ROMTIO SBJBOLISM 
 
 In his atten 5 >t to grasp th.e infinite the romanticist, consciously or un- ' 
 
 consciously interposed some representation of that infinite before his sight. 
 
 It was by means of symbols that he made for himself some tangible elements 
 
 of the ideal, toward which he could looh and worlc. As Carlyle says in "Sartor 
 
 Resartus,” - "in the Symbol proper, what we can call a Symbol, there is ever, 
 
 more or less distinctly and directly, some embodiment and revelation of the 
 
 Infinite; the Infinite is made to blend itself with the Finite, to stand 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 visible, and as it were, attainable there." 
 
 "The least flower is a thought, a life wMch corresponds to seme linea- 
 
 ls) 
 
 ments of the great whole," - Nothing for the romanticist is inert matter, 
 everything has its particle of the universal life. And he iiolds to this symbol^ 
 it may be a dream, a lovely and elusive vision of a woman, the image of a 
 Virgin mother, a blue flower; and it may be the means of lifting him out of 
 the mire of sordidity into the dizzy heists of unreality, or it may be the 
 means of plunging him, as it; did jarvis-Earl Huspmans, into the depths of 
 Satanic realism. 
 
 The roroanticist, not only employs symbolic expression in art, literature 
 
 and music, - but he defends this method of finding a bond between the Heavenly 
 
 and the earthly. "What is symbolism if not an establishing of the liuEs which 
 
 hold the world together, the affirmation of an eternal, minute, intricate, 
 
 almost invisible life, v/hich runs through the whole universe? Every age has 
 
 its own symbols; but a symbol once perfectly expressed, that symbol remains 
 
 (2) Arthur Symons, "The Symbolist Movement," Chapter I, 20. 
 
 (1) Arthur Symons, "The Symbolist Movement," Intro, 3, 
 
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31 
 
 as Gothic architecture remains the very soul of the Middle Ages, To get at 
 
 that truth which is aL 1 hut the deepest meaning of beauty, to find that 
 
 symbol which is its most adequate erpression, is in itself a kind of crertion. 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 - - - Truth can be reached only by symbol,” In the smbolic use of rords 
 
 in poetry, in pure realism and naturalism such an instrument as s,^/mbolism is 
 
 maintaining its own; it is only when Huspmans compares the tower witaout a 
 
 spire to an unsharpened pencil which cannot write the prayers of earth upon 
 
 the sky, that symbolism reaches an excess of exactitude. 
 
 Then, there is Stephane Mallarni, who in his prose-poetry, the “Autumn 
 
 Lament,” mth his sense of aloneness, his cat, “a mystical con^janion, a spirit, ’ 
 
 and his literature of Roman decadence, - revels in sjnnbolic solitude and 
 
 sorrow for his lost Maria, The organ under his v/indow, in the twili^t of 
 
 memory, sets him despairingly dreaming. He weeps "like a romantic ballad” 
 
 at its old-fashioned air, - and then refrains from throv;lng a penny out of the 
 
 window for fear of disturbing his impression that the instrument is singing 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 by itselfl” 
 
 Then there is Goethe in his “Faust,” in his symbolization of the emanci- 
 pation of the individual, and in spite of Goethe’s intention “to acknowledge 
 
 (3) 
 
 God in his Infinite aspects, not to define of describe Mm,” he almost goes 
 
 to the length of symbolizing symbols before he finishes the drama. “Saving 
 
 truth,” says Charles Bakewell in “The Philosophy of Goethe’s Faust, “life truth 
 
 can never at any time be expressed in the abstract concepts of philosophy; 
 
 for these never are and never can be, really true. It must find espression, 
 
 if at all either in symbols, poetic concrete images, at the messianic treatment 
 {4} 
 
 of life itself,” But whether this expression, takes the form of a sort of 
 
 (4) Charles H. Bakewell, “The Philosophy of Goethe’s Faust.” 
 
 (3) Goethe’s “Faust,” (Translation of Bayard Taylor) note 245. 
 
 (2) Selection, Mallarni, “Autumn Lament,” Arthiir Symons, “The Symbolist 
 Movement,” Chapter XI, 190-192, 
 
 (1) Arthur Symons, “The Symbolist Movement,” Chapter XIII, 272, 
 
3SL 
 
 a sort of Jacob-Bohm mysticism, art that ”lives with its own life,” or life 
 which finds its. truth in a Zoroaster, a Buddah, or a Christ, - it is primarily 
 symbolic. 
 
 "Symbolism," says Arthur Symons, defending the tendency as a literary 
 movement, "inplicit in all literature from the beginning, as it is implicit 
 in all very v/ords we use, comes to us now, at least conscious of itself, offer- 
 ing us the only escape from our ms.ny improvements. We find a new, an older 
 sense in the so worn-out forms of things; the world, v.hich we can no longer 
 believe in as the satisfying material object it was to our grandparents, 
 becomes transfigured with a new light; words which long usage had dp.ricened 
 almost out of recognition, take fresh lustre. And it is on the lines of that 
 spiritulizing of the word, that perfecting of form in its capacity for allusion 
 and suggestion, that confidence in the invisible universe, v/hich Mallarni 
 
 taught, and too intermittently practiced, that literature must now move, if it 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 is in any sense to move forward." 
 
 Heine says, "The poet is, on a small scale, but the imitator of the 
 Creator, and also resembles God in creating his characters after his own image." 
 
 (2) And "Beauty," says Schelling, "is a finite rendering of the infinite." (3) 
 
 So Schlegel says, "beauty is a symbolical representation of the infinite," and 
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 "all poetry is an everlasting symbolizing." Carlyle holds, - "It is in and 
 
 through Symbols t2iat man, consciously, or unconsciously lives, works, and has 
 
 his being; those ages, moreover, are accounted the noblest which can the best 
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 recognize ssmibolical worth, and prize it highest." Goethe speaks of nature 
 
 as an infinite number of symbols. He is quoted as having said to Sckerman, 
 
 April 18, 1827, - "I caniiot help laughing at the Eesthetic.el folks who torment 
 
 themselves in endeavoring, by some abstract words, to reduce to a conception 
 
 (5) Arthtrr Symons, "The Symbolist Movement," Intro 1. 
 
 (4) Babbitt, "Rons seau and Romanticism," Chapter VIII, £93. 
 
 (3) Babbitt, "Rons seau and Romanticism," Chapter VIII, 293. 
 
 (2) Heine, "The Romantic School," 57. 
 
 (1) Arthur Symons, "the Symbolist Movement," Chapter XI, 202. 
 
33 
 
 that inexpressible thing to which v/e give the name beauty. Beauty is a 
 primeval phenomenon, which itself never maices its appearance, but the reflec- 
 tion of which is visible in a thousand different utterances of the creative 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 mind, and is as various as natiare herself.” 
 
 But the romantic tendency to reach infinity through symbols, to acquire 
 a limitless ideal within limits and to express that ideal in understandable 
 terms, led to an interesting variety of romantic maladies, fruitless efforts 
 and decadent tendencies in literary expression. Zola has defined art as 
 "nature seen through a temperment,” - and with him, as well as many others, 
 romantic art, as they themselves depict it, is nature seen through a formula; 
 and often times the formula is inapt and exaggerated. Let anyone see the 
 Virgin as a I-:ystical Rose, a Tower of Ivory, or the Gate of Heaven, - but the 
 straightforward thinker prefers to think of her in less Idealised terms, - or 
 if in idealized terms at all, those more consistent with truth end life. The 
 romantic tendency toward symbolism under such imaginations as Shelley's, Byroiis 
 Chateaubriand's, Poe's, - underwent various degrees of subjectivity, random 
 depictions of ideals, and efforts toward indefinite attainments. 
 
 Professor Babbitt, in his discussion of romantic love uses the term 
 "nyrapholepsy” to cover the whole romantic tendency in the direction of the love 
 ideal. I shall treat, under that term, of the phase of romanticism which was 
 characterized, - not by the yearning of the romanticist for his ideal mate, - 
 but his longing after the ideal which was symbolic of more than the passion- 
 ately regarded love. The romanticist, "in love with love” dreamed of a “soul's 
 sweet sister,” w ho was more than an objective ideal. She was a part of 
 himself. She was that symbolic representation of the infinite which had a 
 distinct kinship with his own dream-spirit. With his intellect and heart she 
 formed a trinity. Out of the material of fancy, by means of reverie and 
 imagination, he fashioned her, an elusive, flitting, aery, dream-creature, who 
 (1) Oliver Elton, "A Survey of English Literature,” Vol. I, Chapter 1, 18. 
 
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34 
 
 seemed ever to lead him on into visions, - 
 
 ”Two starry eyes, himg in the gloom of thought. 
 
 And seemed viith their serene and azure smiles 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 To heckon him.” 
 
 There was much about this nympho lepsey which was sensuous, much that 
 was ideally beautiful, - and much that seems like a jargon of indistinct vis- 
 ions, selfish inanities, and random enthusiasms. There was the ’’blue flower" 
 symbol of Kovalis and the early Grerman school of romanticists,- wMch mingled 
 the love of some woman with the idealized spirit of her, as a sort of earthly 
 mixture of realism and ideality, and which makes Babbitt observe that Novalis,- 
 had his Sophia lived and had he married her,- would have survived his infatua- 
 tion. But such was the nature of this nympholepsy in other cases, that had he 
 seen his ideal fade tqpon its mortal incarnation he would have done as Shelley 
 did, perhaps, transfer his worship to other subjects,- in as rapid succession 
 as they each become too real. For the symbolic ideal had to be remote to be 
 an ideal. Here it is interesting to note that the romanticist seemed rather 
 to seek an earthly symbolization of some inner, spiritual ideal, than to create 
 an ideal out of the ordinary and commonplace. Shelley says in a letter to 
 Grisborne, referring to "Epipsychidion'- and its rolation to himself,- "I think 
 one is always in love with something or other; the error, and I confess it is 
 
 not easy for spirits cased in flesh and blood to avoid it, consists in seeking 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 in a mortal image the likeness of what is, perhaps, eternal." And if anyone 
 
 could speak upon such a subject Shelley could, considering the number of his 
 
 experiences. Ii this rospoct tho Italians Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch each 
 
 remined true to his ideal; but they remained true to tiis^sse iaeals because 
 
 (DShelley, "Alas tor," Shelley*s Poems, Cambridge Edition, 40U. 489 ff. 
 (E)Shelley, "Epipsychidion" Shelley's Poems, Cambridge Edition, E98. 
 
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from the natiire of society or the '^ideals*' themselves, they did not success- 
 fully become incarnated. 
 
 •'All love," philosophizes Arthur Symons, "is an attempt to break: tlirough 
 the loneliness of individuality, to fuse oneself v/ith something not oneself, 
 to give and to receive in all the warmth of natural desire that inmortal ele- 
 ment which remains so cold and so invincible, in .'the midst of the soul. It is 
 a desire of the infinite in humanity, and as humanity has its limits it can 
 but return sadly upon itself when tliat limit is reached. Thus human love is 
 
 not only an ecstacy but a despair, and the more profound a despair the more 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 ardently it is returned," And if there is actually a certain sense of insuf- 
 ficiency in romantic love, it is perhaps tiie natural romantic tendency to lint 
 that love with the Infinite and to try to find a satisfaction in imagining 
 what cannot be, 
 
 "But the love of G-od, considered only from its human aspect contains at 
 
 least the illusion of infinity. To love God is to live in the absolute, so 
 
 far as the mind of man can conceive the absolute, and thus, in a sense, to love 
 
 God is to possess the absolute, for love has already possessed that which it 
 
 apprehends. 'cTliat the earthly lover realises to himself as the image of his 
 
 beloved is, after all, his own image of love, not her,- God must remain "deus 
 
 abscond! tus," even to love; but the lover, incapable of possessing infinity, 
 
 will have possessed all of infinity of which he is capable. And Ms ecstacy 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 will be flawless until Ms love becomes too hunan, when like Don Juan he will 
 search for another, Shelley expresses it,- 
 
 "I cannot give what men call love. 
 
 But wilt thou accept not 
 The worship the heart lifts above 
 And the Heavens reject not, 
 
 (1) Arthvir Symons, "Theb Symbolist Movement," Chapter XII, : 14 
 
 (2) (Arthur Symons, "The Sjmibolist Movement," Ciiapter XII, 2PA 
 

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36 
 
 The desire of the moth for the star. 
 
 Of the night for the morrow. 
 
 The devotion of something afar 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 From the sphere of sorrow. 
 
 As to the more personal, more sensuous phase of this symbolic, spirit- 
 invoking, - 
 
 - - - - "He dreamed a veiled maid 
 
 Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. 
 
 Her voice was like the voice of his own soul 
 
 Heard in the calm of thought, its music long. 
 
 Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held 
 
 His innermost sense suspended in its web 
 
 Of many - colored woof end shifting hues. 
 
 Knowledge and truth and virtue were her theme. 
 
 And lofty hope of divine liberty. 
 
 Thoughts the most dear to him, and ooesy, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Herself a poet." 
 
 She spoke, - 
 
 - - - - "with voice stifled in trermLous sobs 
 
 A 
 
 Subdued by its own pathos;" 
 
 Her hands, "sweeping from some strange harp, strange symphoiiy." Y/ith her sinu- 
 ous veil, out - spread arms, dark locks, "beam bending eyes," and parted lips, 
 slight wonder that,- 
 
 "His strong heart sunk and sickened with 
 excess of love." 
 
 Then ^ust as she reluctantly yielded, and with a "short breathless cry" folded 
 his frame in her dissolving arras, 
 
 (1) Shelley, "Shelley’s Poems," Carabribge Mition, 408 
 
 (2) Shelley, "Alastor,” "Shelley’s Poems,'" Cambridge Edition, p. 35, 1. 151 ff. 
 
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37 
 
 - - - *'blaclcness veiled Ms dizzy eye, and might 
 Involved and swallowed up the vision." 
 
 and, 
 
 - - - Lost, lost, forever lost 
 
 In the wide partless desert of dim sleep. 
 
 That beautiful shapej" 
 
 A puff of pure morning breeze and she is gone, and the dreamer ie left more 
 alone than as if he had not dreamed, and he is left, too, more dissatisfied 
 with reality. 
 
 Bach of just such expressions was the romantic spirit wMcn led to Shell- 
 ey’s free love experiences. After admiring a half dozen "sweet spirits" who 
 turned out to be quite ordinary mortals, he spent a season condeianing them as 
 he did Elizabeth Kitchener, and then wrote about what might have been an ideal 
 experience. He spoke of her who had been the" sister of Ms soul", in writing 
 
 to his friend Hogg as, "the Brown Bemonv as v/e call our late tormenter and 
 ( 1 -) 
 
 school-mistress." - 
 
 Epipsychidion, which Shelley Mmself spoke of as an "idealized history" 
 of his own spirit, was.* inspired by Emilia Yiviani, of the convent of St. Anna, 
 Pisa. He starts with a whole train of epithets. 
 
 "High, spirit winged Heart I who dost forever 
 Beat thine unfeeling bars with vain endeavor. 
 
 Till those bright plumes of thought, in Thich arrayed 
 It over-soared this low and worldly shade. 
 
 Lie s'nattered; and thy panting wounded breast 
 Stains with dear blood its unmsternal nesti 
 I weep vain tears, blood would less bitter be, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Yet poured forth gladlier, could it profit thee." 
 
 (2) Shelley, "Epipsychidion," (Shelley's Poems, Gaibbridge Edition) 229, G. 13 ff 
 (1) Paul Elmer More, "Shelburne Essays," (Seventh Series) Chaxuter I, 16. 
 

 
 
 
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38 
 
 He continues, after offering himself for her release, if that could be 
 possible, - 
 
 “Seraph of Heavenl too gentle to be human, 
 
 Veiling beneath that radiant form of Woman 
 Of light, and love, and immortalityl 
 Sweet benediction in the eternal Cursel 
 Veiled glory of this lan^jless Universe I 
 2hou Moon beyond the eloudsl thou living Form 
 Among the Deadl thou star above the storral 
 Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and thou Terror! 
 
 Thou Harmony of nature’s Art! thou Mirror 
 In whom, as in the sulendor of the Sun, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 All shapes loolc glorious which thou gszest on!” 
 
 She is, as a woman, a symbol of eve ly thing of beauty in Heaven or in 
 earth. As a soul she is everything which the poet in his gush of passion 
 can recall, - 
 
 “Sweet Lamp, my moth-liice Miise has burned its wings; 
 
 Or, like a dying swan who soars and sings, 
 
 Yoiing Love should teach Tine, in his own gray style. 
 
 All that tiiou art. Art., thou not void of guile, 
 
 A lovely aoul formed to be blessed and bless? 
 
 A well of sealed and secret haijpiness. 
 
 Whose waters like blithe light and music are. 
 
 Vanquishing dissonance and gloom? a star 
 V/hich moves not in the moving Heavens, alone? 
 
 A smile amid dark frovms? a gentle tone 
 Amid rude voices? a beloved light? 
 
 A solitude, a refuge, a delight? 
 
 (1) Shelley, Epipsychidloi^" (Shelley’s Poems, Csmbridge Edition) P99, 0.21 ff 
 
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39 
 
 ’*A lute, -which those whom love has taught to play 
 
 MaJ£e music on, to soothe the roughest day 
 
 And lull fond grief asleep? a buried treasure? 
 
 A cradle of young thoughts of wingless pleasure? 
 
 A violet-shrouded grave of -V70e? - I measure 
 
 The world of fancies, seelcing one lilce thee, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 And find - alasl mine own infirmity,” 
 
 She is the S 5 nmbol of eternity, - 
 
 "See where she stands I a mortal shape indued 
 
 With love and life and light and deity. 
 
 And motion which may change but cannot die; 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 And image of some bright Eternity.” 
 
 With the love for this ideal goes a pastoral longing, the desire for an 
 
 ideal existence in some "far Eden of the purple East.” It is a place of, - 
 
 glades, caverns, and bowers and Iialls 
 
 Built round v/ith ivy, v;hich the waterfalls 
 
 Illumining, -with sound that never falls 
 
 Acconpaning the noonday nightingales;” 
 
 Even nature, herself, softens her mood, and, - 
 
 "The winged storms, clianting their thunder-psalm 
 
 To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm 
 
 Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew. 
 
 Prom wliich its fields and -^.-oods ever renew 
 
 (d) 
 
 Their green and golden Immortality.” 
 
 But his love for her has that quality of a yearning for his o-wn ideal 
 soul. This "soul out of my soul,” is the part of aimself he would be spirit- 
 
 (4) Shei-ley, "Epipsychidion,” (Shelley’s Poems, Cambridge Edition)305, 0.465 ff 
 
 (3) Shelley, "Epipsy.chidion,” (Shelley’s Poems, Cambridge Edit! on) 304,0 ,401 ff 
 
 (2) Shelley, ’’lipipsychidion,” (Shelley’s Poems, Cambridge Edit ion) 300,0.112 ff 
 
 (1) Shelley, ’’Epipsychidion,” (Shelley’s Poems, Cambridge Edition) 299,0. 52 ff 
 
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ually, could he acquire a portion of ^flifinite goodness and heauty; - 
 
 ”Ah me I 
 
 I am not thine - I am a part of thee*’* 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 He says. 
 
 ”We shall "become the same, we shall be one 
 Spirit within two frames, ohX wherefore two? 
 
 One passion in twin-hearts, which grows and grew. 
 
 Till lilce two meteors of expanding flame 
 Those spheres instinct with it become the same, 
 loiio Touch, , mingle, are transfigured;*’ 
 
 This sense of "one-ness” with the ideal, with its consequent blending of 
 
 self with a symbolic representation of the Infinite, developed into t-ie desire 
 
 for annihilation. Love enthusiasra,- 
 
 - - - - ’’ever still 
 
 Burning, yet ever inconsumable; 
 
 In one another’s substance finding food, 
 
 Lilce flames too pure and light and unimbued 
 
 To nourish their bright lives with baser prey, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 dliich point to Heaven and cannot pass away;** 
 led to a desire for existence outside the mortal, a desire to plunge into an 
 abyssD of ecstacy. The romanticist could "throw himself beneath the wheels of 
 a cosmic Juggernaut," He longed to suffer the exquisite pleasure of complete 
 extinction, - 
 
 "One hope within two wills, one v?ill beneath 
 Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death. 
 
 One Heaven, one Hell, one immortality. 
 
 And one annihilation, tv'oe is raei 
 
 (2) Shelley, "Epipsychidion, " Shelley, Poems, Cambridge Edition, 306, 1 578ff, 
 (1) Shelley, "Epipsychidion," Shelley, Poems, Cambridge Edition, 299, 1. 51, 
 

 
 
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41 
 
 v;inged v;ords on V7hich my soul ??ould pierce 
 
 Into the bright of love’s rare universe. 
 
 Are chains of lead around its flight of fire, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire]" 
 
 Romantic symbolism, the whole tendency to represent nature, art, life 
 itself in symbols, was an attempt at unifying enthusiasm in the direction of 
 infinity. Man had to have something toward which to endeavor, something rep- 
 resentative of his ideal of intellect, of love, and of religion. It was the 
 effort to make over the intangible into human language. As the word was the 
 symbol of the thought life, so natpre became symbolic of God, the visionary 
 dream-woman became symbolic of love, mind, or soul, and a multitudinous number 
 of romantic representations were created as symbols of various forms of art. 
 
 "the Earth and Ocean seem 
 
 To sleep in one another’s arms, and dream 
 
 Of waves, flowers, clouds, woods, rocks, and all that v/e 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Read in their smiles, and call reality." 
 
 The unreality of the attempt in England is contrasted with the opposite result 
 of the same tendency,- in realism and naturalism,- in Frsnce. The spirit, one 
 of almost childish endeavor to represent all ideas in realizable terms, coupled 
 with the kindred spirit of effort to realize those terms other than by mere 
 conception, led to romantic hope and enthusiasm,- that dynamic romantic tenden- 
 cy tov;ard diffuse effort, hectic religion, and catachysmic revolution. 
 
 (2) Shelley, "Spipsychidion,’"Shelley* s Poems, Cambridge Edition, 305 1. 508 ff. 
 (1) Shelley, "Epipsychidion, "Shelley’ s Poems, Cambridge Edition, 306 1. 584 ff. 
 
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42 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 R OiaiTTI C EITTHUS I ASM 
 
 The romanticist, after the dreamy inactivity of reverie, and the purely 
 imaginative activity connected with the tendency toward symbolism, indulged 
 his emotions in enthusiasm, Enthusiasm was that subjective force of romanti- 
 cism which carried the poet toward his ideal, the ideal dreamed of in solitude, 
 and was a sort of emotional overflow. In the more passive poet it led to 
 lyrical expression of love, liberty, religion; in the active individual, exper- 
 iments in free love, travel and adventure, and efforts at political and reli- 
 gious upheaval. It was the romanticist's active effort to carry himself, and 
 oftentimes, as vath Shelley, his whole nation, toward an infinite ideal which 
 human nature had never as yet attained, 
 
 "To do anything,” says Hazlitt, ”to dig a hole in the ground, to plant a 
 cabbage, to hit a mark, to move a shuttle, to work a pattern,- in a word to 
 attempt to produce any effect, and to succeed, has something in it that grati- 
 fies the power of love, and carries off the restless activity of the mind of 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 man,” 
 
 It was just this” restless activity of the mind of man” which the pseudo- 
 
 classicist had suppressed. The terra ”enthusiast” v/as in that period a terra of 
 
 opprobrium. Reverend Hicholas Garter wrote to his daughter Slizaoeth, the 
 
 learned translator of Epictetus J ”You seem extremely fond of her - lirs, 
 
 Rowe’s — writings, I have seen some that have in them a tincture of enthusiasm 
 
 'Tis proper to caution you not to read them with too much pleasure. Enthusiasm 
 
 (1) ”The Collected Works of William Hazlitt,** A. H. V/aller, Vol.YII, ''Table 
 Talk,””On the PleasureN. of Painting," 11 
 
i 
 
 k 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 a>. 
 
 - J > - 1 V 
 
 xC 
 
 
 
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 J 
 
 
 
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 I 
 
 V. 
 
 I 
 
 ?.l 
 
( 1 ) 
 
 grows upon us insensibly.” Dr. Johnson said of Dr. Joseph w'arton,”Sir , he is 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 an enthusiast by rule.” In the distrust of free emotion lay the strength of 
 the time,- but here too lay the cause of its limitation, for “this dread of en- 
 
 j 
 
 thusiasm cut off the great inspiration of the pseudo-classic ago, as well as 
 
 ^ 3 ) 
 
 its disturbing passions.” Even those who were bringing bawjk the force of the 
 
 term repudiated it; so John Wesley cries out, ”the reproach of Christ I am will- 
 
 14 ) 
 
 ing to bear, but not the reproach of enthusiasm.” But it is a long step be- 
 tween the warning of Dr. Carter and Shelley’s bold declaration of purpose in 
 the preface to ”!Ehe Bevolt of Islam,"- that he wrote it,- "in the view of 
 kindling within the bosoms of my readers a virtuous enthusiasm for those doc- 
 trines of liberty and justice, that faith and hope in something good, which 
 
 neither violence, nor misrepresentation, nor prejudice can ever totally extin- 
 
 (5) 
 
 guish among mankind,” 
 
 Plato recognizes the place of activity in man’s attainment of his highest, 
 not throxjgh enjoyment, but through the exercise of nis active energies. But 
 undoubtedly, as Chatles 3akev;ell points out in his "Philosophy of Goethe’s PauBt 
 there are different varieties of such activity, "There are those whose lives 
 are guided by a perfectly clear aim, to which every action and event, every 
 good, and every evil is strictly subordinate, and who bind themselves to enjoy- 
 ment only that they may be the better able to struggle toward the end they have 
 in view." And then there are those "who have just aim enough to keep themselves 
 out of the grave, who are continually losing sight of that aim in transient, 
 momentary, sporadic interests; who instead of going Straight to life*s journey 
 sleep and rest only where they must, loiter all the way, pluck flowers by the 
 
 (5) Shelley, "Complete Poetical Works,” Cambridge Edition, Preface, "The Revolt 
 of Islam," 45 
 
 (4) Paul Elmer More, "Shelburne Essays,” Seventh Series, Chapter I, Shelley, 12 
 (3) Paul Elmer More, "Shelburne Essays,” Seventh Series, Chapter I, Shelley, 12 
 (2) Bosv/ell, "Life of Johnson," Vol.II, Edition 1887 p, 33; Vol.iy note, 41 
 (1) Paul Elmer More, "Shelburne Essays," Seventh Series, Chapter I, Shelley, 12 
 
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44 
 
 wayside, making little excursions into fields and woods and dallying wherever 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 opportunity offers. To the first class belong all great men, so he thinks, and 
 to the second, all dilettanti : the former tendency toward activity produces 
 classic art; the latter produces romantic art. 
 
 The meaning of this word enthusiasm indicates a sort of ’’divine madness 
 or frenzy,” As applied in contempt it meant ’’possessed by .3 god,” but by a 
 god who brought about rather questionable activities, which v.-ere against ell 
 reason and restraint, Plato's four kinds of enthusiacm,- the prophetic glow 
 of revelation, prevailing prayer which averts the wrath of heaven, that philos- 
 ophy which miawares, enters into the lover from his love,- v/ere all phrases em- 
 braced by the romanticist in varying degrees of intensity, ”jiach of these 
 
 stimuli may so exalt the inward faculties, "comments John Morley, "as to make a 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 man, -’bereft of reason but filled with divinity," And, "You, sir, who are a 
 
 poet,” once said IJadarae d' Bpinay to Saint Lambert,” will agree with me that 
 
 the existence of a Being, eternal, all powerful, and of sovereign intellect, 
 
 (3) 
 
 is at any rate the germ of the- first enthusiasm. The term whicn was applied 
 in the pseudo-classic age as one of approbrium, was adopted by the romanticist 
 to characterize his most sublime emotion. Enthusiasm to him meant "inspiration 
 it was a sentiment which represented a certain element of the expansive infinit( 
 in man, 
 
 Madame de Stael ejip)resses the idea in the chapter of "Ehthusiasm" in her 
 "Germany,” "E&ny people are prejudiced against Enthusiasm; they confound it 
 with Fanaticism, which is a great mistake. Fanaticism is an exclusive passion, 
 the object of which is an opinion; enthusiasm is connected with the hsrmony of 
 the universe: it is the love of the beautiful, elevation of soul, enjoyment of 
 
 (3) John iilorley, "Rotisseau,” Chapter IX, 316 
 
 (2) John liorley, "English Men of Letters,” "Wordsworth,” by F, W, H. I^ers, 128 
 (1) Charles Bakewell, "The Philosophy of Goethete Faust,” Chapter IV, 69 
 
n 
 
' 4 ' b 
 
 devotion, all united in one single feeling which combines grandeur and repose* 
 
 The sense of this word among the Greelcs affords the noblest definition of it* 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 enthusiasm signifies ’God in us.»*» 
 
 To Longinus enthusiasm meant much the same, perhaps, as it did to the earlj 
 
 critics of the extravagancies toward which the tendency tended; for in his 
 
 treatise on the Sublime he condemns random contemporary efforts under the terra 
 
 "Bombast.” He takes from conten^orary literature such eapreSsions as, "Torrents 
 
 wrapt t^) in flames: Belching in the face of Heaven;”- Georgias' allusion to 
 
 Xerses as the Jove of the Persians, and the allusion to vultures as "animated 
 
 Sepulchres,"- in which he says the authors "in certain places cannot so nroner- 
 
 ly be said to rise as to fly out of sight,” - - - "But in ray opinion there is 
 
 not among them all one so overswoll'n and big as Clistarcus, That man, I vow 
 
 to God, is mere froth and outside. - - - Those authors imagine sometimes. That 
 
 they are inspired and possesst with Divine Raptures, instead of Thund's ring, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 as they suppose, they trifle most egregiously and are childishly ridiculous." 
 Then he says,"Theodorus calls that an unseasonable Hage, when a man heats him- 
 self nothing to the purpose, or when he's transported to Excess, tho’ the sub- 
 
 (3) 
 
 ject admits but of a moderate warmth." 
 
 In contrast to the restraint of the seventeenth century when human nature 
 
 was not to be trusted, the representative of the romantic period had a certain 
 
 faith in man's ability to regulate his own emotions. He thirsted for experienc< 
 
 Mr, Babbitt quotes Galsworthy as referring to "the aching for the wild, the 
 
 {^) 
 
 passionate, the new that never quite dies in a man's heart," "Men naturally 
 
 knov/ no good," said Jeremy Taylor, voicing the constant opinion of his age," 
 
 (5) 
 
 but to please a wild, indetermined appetite," 
 
 (5j Paul Elmer Ik>re, "Shelburne Essays," Seventh Series, Ghepter, "Shelley," 11 
 
 (4| Babbitt,. "Rousseau and Romanticism," Chapter VII, .<151 
 
 (3) "Works of Dionysius Longinus," Welsted, ed. 171?, 9 
 
 {£' "Y/orks of Dionysius Longinus," Welsted, ed, 171?, 8 
 
 (l) Lladame de Stael, "Germany," Vol. II, Chapter X, 360 
 
9 
 
 
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46 
 
 But gradually there developed along with the fear of undirciplined nature, 
 
 comments Paul Elmer More, "a belief in the efficacy and virtue of certain 
 
 supernatural emotions, in an infinite appetite that v;as not wild end indeter- 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 rained - in enthxisiasm*” Shelley says, 
 
 "Man is a soul and body, formed for deeds 
 
 of high resolve, on fancy's boldest wing 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 To soar unwearied," - - - 
 
 So the Enthusiast proudly adopted this term as a cognomen in 5 )lying his 
 
 owm exclusive powers of commimication with spiritual forces, through solitude 
 
 and reverie. Under such a conviction Joseph Warton wrote his "Enthusiast" and 
 
 in it alludes to the power of Contemplation, - 
 
 "To lift ray soul above this little earth. 
 
 This folly - fettered world: to purge ray ears. 
 
 That I may heat the rolling planets' song, 
 
 (3) 
 
 And tuneful turning spheres;" 
 
 Shelley, too in seasons of enthusiasm, saw the universe from an aloof point of 
 view which, perhaps, justifies a critic of an early edition of his ooeras, com- 
 paring him to Milton. The universe itself was a massive errangeraent of hrrmon- 
 ious activities. 
 
 Throughout those infinite orbs of mingling light. 
 
 Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffused 
 A spirit of activity and life. 
 
 That Icnows no terra, cessation, or decay; 
 
 But active, steadfast, and eternal, atill 
 
 Guides the fierce whirlwind, in the tenpest roars, 
 
 (3) Joseph Warton, "The Enthusiast," Bernbaura, "English Poets of the Eighteenth 
 Century, 158 
 
 (2) Shelley, "Gonplete Poetical Works," Cambridge Edition, "Queen Mab,"14 
 (1) Paul Elmer More, "Shelburne Essays," Seventh Series, Chapter "Shelley," 11 
 
47 
 
 And in the storm of change, that ceaselessly 
 
 Bolls round the eternal universe, and siiaices 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 Its undecaying battlements, presides,** 
 
 And again, he says,- 
 
 Por birth, and life, and death, and tiiat strange state 
 
 Before the nakied soul has found its home. 
 
 All tend to perfect happiness, and urge 
 
 The restless wheels of being on their way, 
 
 V/hose flashing spokes, instinct with infinite life, 
 
 (B) 
 
 Bicker and burn to gain their destined go^l,” 
 
 This enthusiasm was linked with romantic hope,- that of Thomr-s ppmell in 
 his of Contentment** 
 
 "Lovely, lasting peace of mindi 
 Sweet delight of human kind. 
 
 Heavenly born, and bred on high. 
 
 To crown the favorites of the sky 
 With more of happiness below 
 Than victors in a triumph knowJ 
 
 Ambition searches all its sphere 
 Of pon^ and state, to meet thee there. 
 
 Increasing Avarice would find 
 Thy presence in its gold enshrined. 
 
 The bold adventurer ploughs his way. 
 
 Through rocks amidst the foaming sea, 
 
 (2) Shelley, ''Complete Poetical Works," Cambridge Edition, ’’Queen liab,|| 30 
 (1) Shelley, "Complete poetical Works," Cambridge Edition, "Qu-en Mab,' TO 
 

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To gain thy love; and then perceives 
 
 1 
 
 Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. 
 
 The silent heart which grief assails, 
 
 Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales. 
 
 Sees daisies open, rivers run. 
 
 And seeks, as Inhave vainly done. 
 
 Amusing thought: but learns to know 
 That solitude's the murse of woe. 
 
 No real happiness is found 
 In trailing purple o'er the ground; 
 
 Or in a soul exalted high. 
 
 To range the circuit of the sky. 
 
 Converse with stars above, and know 
 All nature in its forms below; 
 
 The rest it seeks, in seeking dies, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 And doubts at last, for knowledge, rise," 
 which shows the romanticist at the point of exalting activity ratlier than con- 
 tentment itself as a goal. 
 
 With this hope, which was a vision of the ideal and faith in the attainment 
 
 of it, went a certain condemnation of reverie, 
 
 "But can the noble mind forever brood. 
 
 The willing victim of a weary mood. 
 
 On heartless cares that squander life away. 
 
 And cloud yoimg Genius brightening into dry? 
 
 Shame to the coward thought that e'er betrayed 
 
 The noon of manhood to a myrtle shade] 
 
 If Hope's creative spirit cannot raise 
 
 (1) Thomas Parnell, "A Hymn of Contentment," Bernbaum, "English Poets of the 
 Eighteenth Century, "85, 
 
One trophy sacred to thy future days. 
 
 Scorn the dull crowd that haunt the gloomy shrine 
 Of hopeless love to muriaiur and repinei 
 But, should a sigh of milder mood esqpress 
 Thy heart - warm wishes, true to happiness; 
 
 Should Heaven's fair harbringer delight to pour 
 Her blissful visions on thy peaceful hour, 
 
 Ho tear to blot thy memory's pictured page, 
 
 ITo fears but such a fancy can assuage; 
 
 Though thy wild heart some hapless hour may miss 
 The peaceful tenor of unvaried bliss 
 (For love pursues an ever - devious race. 
 
 True to the winding lineaments of grace ),- 
 Yet still may hope her Talisman employ 
 To snatch from Heaven anticipated joy. 
 
 And all her hindered energies imnart 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 That burn the brightest in the poorest heart," 
 
 There was also delight in the wild aspects of nature. Chateaubriand 7;rites 
 
 a vivid account of a storm in the forest, and exults in the v^ildness of it, 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 "Vrnat an awful, what a magnificent spectaclej" he exclaraes, Joseph yarton in 
 
 "The Hnthusia^t" exults in the same phenomena. - 
 
 "Oft near some crowded city would 1 walic. 
 
 Listening the far - off noises, rattling cars. 
 
 Loud sliouts of joy, sad shri s of sorrow, knells 
 
 Full slowly tolling, instruments of trade. 
 
 Striking my ears with one deep-swelling hum. 
 
 (2) Francois Rene Auguste Chateaubriand, "Atala," Warner Library, 3537 
 (li Thomas Campbell, "The Pleasures of Hope," "Campbell’s Poetical 'Works," 
 
 Oxford Edition, 23 
 

50 
 
 Or wajidering near the sea, attend the sounds 
 Of }iollo\v winds and ever-heating waves, 
 iSven when wild tempests swallow up the plains. 
 
 And Boreas’ blasts, big hail, and rains combine 
 To shake the groves and mountains, v;ould ^ sit. 
 
 Pensively musing on th’ outrageous crimes 
 
 That walce Heaven’s vengeance; at such solemn hours 
 
 Deijmons and goblins through the dark air shriek. 
 
 While Heca^, with her black-browod sisters nine, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 Rides o’er the Harth, and scatters woes and death.” 
 and again, from hhelley' s "'■iueea Uab,”- 
 
 - - -^’Tomorrow comes: 
 
 Cloud upon cloud, in dark and dee^jening mass. 
 
 Roll o’er the blackened waters; the deep roar 
 Of distant thunders mutters awfully; 
 
 Ten 5 )est unfolds its pinions o’er the gloom 
 
 That siirouds the boiling serge; the pitiless fiend. 
 
 With all his v/inds and lightenings, tracts his prey. 
 
 The torn deep yawns,- the vessel finds a grave 
 Beneath its Jagged gulf, 
 
 AhJ whence yon glare 
 
 That fires the arch of heaven? that dark red smoke 
 Blotting the silver moon? 
 
 How swells the intermingling din, tne jar 
 
 Frequent and frightful of the bursting bomb; 
 
 (l) Joseph Warton, ’’The Enthusiast,” Bern baum, ’’English Poets of the Eighteenth 
 Century,” 157 
 

And now again ‘tis black,- and now, the glee 
 
 Of the loud hills shAkea with its mountain mirth. 
 
 As if they did rejoice o*er a young earthquak^r birth, 
 
 ^ould I embody and unbosom now 
 
 Tliat which is most within me,- could I wreak 
 
 Lly thoughts upon ex^jression, and thus throw 
 
 Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or week. 
 
 All that I would have sought, and all I seek. 
 
 Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe - into one ’word. 
 
 And that one word were Lightning, I would speak; 
 
 But as it is, I live and die unheard, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword,” 
 
 Byron found expression for some of this romantic enthusiasm in wandering, 
 
 and Thomas Cajipbell, in Popian couplets, extols the spirit, - 
 
 ‘•And such thy strength- inspiring aid that love 
 
 The hardy Byron to his native shore. 
 
 In horrid climes, where Clilloe*s tempests sweep 
 
 Tumultous murmurs o*er the troubled deep, 
 
 »Twas his to mourn misfortune *s rudest shock. 
 
 Scourged by the winds, and cradled on the ilock. 
 
 To wake each Joyless mom, and search again 
 
 The famished haunts of solitary men, 
 
 V/hose race, unyielding as their native storm. 
 
 Know not a trace of Nature but the form; 
 
 Yet, at thy call, the hardy ter pursued. 
 
 Pierced the deep woods, and, riailing from afar 
 
 (1) Byron, "Childe Harold," Byron’s Life and Works," (Thomas MdSire) Canto III, 
 XCII, XGIII, XCYII 
 
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52 
 
 The moon’s pal^ planet and the northern strr. 
 
 Paused at each dreary cry, unheard >efore. 
 
 Hyenas in the v/ild, and mermaids on the shore; 
 
 Till, led by thee o’er many a cliff sublime. 
 
 He found a warmer world, a milder clime, 
 
 A home to rest, a shelter to defend, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 Peace and repose, a Briton and a friendl” 
 
 Then there is the enthusiasm which came from the liberty of passion, when 
 the romanticist rode into the Sublime upon ”the seraph-wings of .staoy.** it 
 is interesting to note how closely allied were the romanticist’s passions and 
 arau$ing strains of rausic- 
 
 ’’HarSl his hands the lyre explore; 
 
 Bright -eyed Fancy hovering o’er. 
 
 Scatters from her pictured urn 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Thoughts that breath and words that burn,” 
 
 And again, - 
 
 The birds his presence greet; 
 
 But chief the skylark warbles high 
 
 His trembling, thrilling ecstacy. 
 
 And, lessening from the dazzled sight. 
 
 Melts into air and liquid light. 
 
 Rise, my souli on the wings of fire 
 
 Rise the rapturous choir amongl 
 
 Harki ’tis Hature strikes the lyre, 
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 And leads the general song,” 
 
 Thomas Warton feels it penetrating his spirit in ”The Pleasures of Memory,” when 
 
 (3) Thomas Gray, "On the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude," Bernbaian, "iSnglish 
 Poets of the Eighteenth Century," 196 
 (2) Thomas Gray, "The Progress of Poesy", Bernbaum, "English Poets of the 
 Eighteenth Century," 190 
 
 (1) Thomas Caupbell, "The Pleasures of Hope," "Campbell’s Poetical Works'?" 
 (Oxford Edition) 5 
 
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53 
 
 through Gothic vaults ^’hollo-w murmurs*” reach his "’rsvi sher? o'^r.” 
 
 *’0*he tapered choir, at the late hour of prsyer. 
 
 Oft let me tread, v.’hile th’ according voice 
 The many-sounding organ peals on high 
 The clear slow-dittied chant or varied hymn. 
 
 Till all ny soul is hathed in ecstacies 
 And lapped in Paradise**’ (1) 
 
 Subjectively, there is a delight, too, in the harshness of fate, partly 
 
 due to opposite tendencies which emotional experiences awake, perhaps, and also 
 
 due to the activity aroused in the feelings and syn^iathies of man through 
 
 emotional conflict. So Gray says,- ’’And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing 
 
 tear. -^d in his **ode on the Pleasures Arising from Vicissitude,” he says,- 
 
 ”The hues of bliss more brightly glow 
 
 Chastened by sabler tints of woe. 
 
 And, blended, form with artful strife 
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 The strength and harmony of life," 
 
 The social sense asserts itself when the enthusiast lets reason interfere 
 with his passions and love of solitude, without stirring hir inner emotions. 
 
 A little heeding of reason merely directs the channel toward humonity,- 
 "The tyrant passions all subside. 
 
 Fear, anger, pity, shame, and pride. 
 
 No more my bosom move; 
 
 (3) Thomas Gray, "Ode on the Pleasures ijjrising from Vicissitude," Bernbahm 
 "English Poets of the Eighteenth Century," 18£ ’ 
 
 (2) Thomas Gray,"Hihna to Adversity," Bernbaum, "English Poets of the Eighteenth 
 Century,” 182 
 
 (1) Thomas S^arton,"The Pleasures of Memorv mi:, t 
 
 Eighteenth Century," 175 Bernbaum, ”English Poets of the 
 
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54 
 
 ret still I felt, or seemed to feel 
 A kind of visionary zeal 
 Of universal love.** 
 
 iviien ioi a voice, a voice I hear] 
 
 *Twas Reason whispered in my ear 
 These monitory strains: 
 
 ’V/Tiat mean’st thou, man? wouldst thou unbind 
 The ties which constitute thy kind. 
 
 The pleasures and the pains? 
 
 ’The same Almighty Power unseen, 
 
 IJho spreads the gay or solemn scene 
 To conten5>lations eye. 
 
 Fixed every movement of the soul. 
 
 Taught every wish its destined goal. 
 
 And quickened every joy. 
 
 •He bids the tyrant passions rage. 
 
 He bids them war eternal v/age. 
 
 And combat each his foe; 
 
 Till from dissentions concords rise. 
 
 And beauties from deformities. 
 
 And happiness from woe. 
 
 Enthusiast go, unstring thy lyre. 
 
 In vain thou sing’st if none admire. 
 
 How sv;eet soe*er the strain. 
 
 And is not thy o' erf lowing mind. 
 
55 
 
 Unless thou mixes t ■with thy hand. 
 Benevolent in vain? 
 
 ’Enthusiast go, try every sense. 
 
 If not thy bliss, thy excellence. 
 
 Thou yet hast learned to scan; 
 
 At least thy wants, thy weatoiess laaow. 
 
 And see them all uniting show 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 That man was made for man,*” 
 
 IJadame de Stael says,-”It cannot be denied that his own interests, as an 
 individual, surround a man on all sides; there is oven in what is vulgar a 
 certain enjoyment, of which many people are very susc^tible, and the traces 
 of ignoble passions are often found under the appearance of the most distih'* 
 guished manners, Superior talents are not always a guarantee against that de- 
 gradation of nature which disposes blindly of the existence of men, and leads 
 them to place their happiness lower than themselves. Enthusiasm alone car- 
 counterbalance the tendency to selfishness; and. it is by this divine sign thrt 
 we recoghiz^s the creatures of immortality. Uhen you speals to any one on sub- 
 jects worthy of holy respect, you perceive et once whether he feels a noble 
 trembling; whether he has formed an alliance with the otiier life, or whether 
 he has only that little portion of mind which serves iiim to direct the mechanism 
 of existence. And what then is human nature when we see in it nothing but a 
 prudence, of which its own advantage is the object? The instinct of animals 
 is of more worth, for it is sometifflos generous and proud; but this calculation, 
 
 which seems the attribute of reason, ends by rendering us incapable of the first 
 
 12 ) 
 
 of virtues, self devotion.” 
 
 This social sense and enthusiasm for an ideal of liberty led to the over- 
 throw of authority and restraint. Shelley says in his Preface to ''PromBtl^ 
 (2) Ikladame de Stael, ”Germany,” Yol. II, 560 
 
 (l)’^lliam Whitehead, ”The Enthusiast,” Bernbaum, "English Poets of the 
 Mghteenth Century,” 151 
 
56 
 
 Unboimd," '*Lot this opportunity be conceded to me of aciaaowle(^ng that I have 
 
 what a Scotch philosopher characteristically terms a ‘passion for reforming 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 the world;'** and Thomas Gan 5 )bell cries, - 
 
 "YesJ thy proud lords, unpitied landl shall see 
 That man hath yet a soul - and dare be freel 
 A little while, along thy saddened plains. 
 
 The starless night os desolation reigns; 
 
 Truth shall restore the light by Nature given. 
 
 And, like Pronustheus, bring the fire of Heavenl 
 Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled. 
 
 Her name, her nature, withered from the world.* 
 
 Tyrantsl in vain ye trace the wizard ring; 
 
 In vain ye limit Mind's unwearied spring; 
 
 Y/hati can ye lull the winged winds asleep. 
 
 Arrest the rolling world, or chain the deep? 
 
 No I -the wild wave contemns your sceptred hand; 
 
 It rolled not back when Canute gave commandl 
 
 Mani can thy doom no brighter soul allow? 
 
 Still must thou live a blot on Nature’s brow? 
 
 Shall War’s polluted banner ne’er be furled? 
 
 Shall crimes and tyrants cease but with the world? 
 
 What I are thy triunqphs, sacred Truth, belied? 
 
 Why then hath Plato lived - or Sydney died" 
 
 And again he connects nature with freedom, 
 
 (E) Thomas Campbell, "The Pleasures of Hope," "Campbell's Complete Works," 
 (Oxford Edition) 15 
 
 (l)Shelley, Preface to Prometheus Unbound," Shelley's Complete Works, " 
 (Cambridge Edition) 164 
 

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57 
 
 "Eternal Nature 1 when thy giant hand 
 
 Hath heaved the floods, and fixed the trembling land, 
 
 When life sprung startled at thy plastic call. 
 
 Endless her forms, and man the lord of all! 
 
 Say, was that lordly form inspired oy thee 
 To wear eternal chains and bow the icnee? 
 
 7/as man ordained the slave of man to toil. 
 
 Yoked with the brute, and fettered to the soil: 
 
 Weighed in a tyrant !s balance with his gold? 
 
 Hoi- Nature stamped us in a heavenly mouldl 
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 Kor, trembling, take the pittance and the scourgel 
 Ho homeless Libian, on the stormy deep, 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 To call upon his country’s name, and weept" 
 
 Liberty to numbers of enthusiasts was this freedom of nature whicn recog- 
 nized no restraint, and which extolled the excess of passion, without nature’s 
 OYhi restrictions. It was only slightly connected with Wordsworth’s- "The un- 
 shakled layman’s natural liberty" of the "Excursion," and while theoretically 
 beautiful, perhaps, was as impracticable in a social organization, as Shelley’s 
 ideas of remaking the universe, and Godwin’s and Rousseau’s plans for unaetting 
 society, 
 
 Balzac demonstrated an interesting phsse of the spirit, as representative 
 
 of the spirit of enthusiasm in France, H6 was preoccupied with force,’ rather 
 
 than any of its manifestations. He was interested in"will’’ and the practice 
 
 of it. His joy was in the human organism at its highest point of acitvity, 
 
 (2) Wordsworth, "The Excursion," "Wordsworth’s Con^lete Poetical Works," 
 (Cambridge Edition) 427 
 
 (1) Thomas Campbell, "The Pleasures of Hope," "Campbell’s Complete ’Works," 
 (Oxford Edition^ 17 
 

 
 
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58 
 
 Men of will are rare!” he cries And at a time when he had turned night into 
 day for his labor;’’ ”I rise every night with a keener will than that of yes- 
 terday. ^Nothing wearies me,” he says, ’’neither waiting nor happiness.” 
 
 His life was itself, as was Sir Vvalter Scott’s, a demonstration of enthusiasm, 
 ”In all that he writes of life, Balzac seeks the soul, but it is the soul as a 
 nervous fluid, the executive soul, not the contemplative soul, thst, with rare 
 exceptions, he seeks, ”(1) The French Revolution sbsorbed a vast enthusiasm 
 which in England went into other channels. Madame de Stael says of her France,- 
 ”0 Francel land of glory and of lovel if the day should ever come when enthu- 
 siasm shall be extinct upon your soil, when all shall be governed and disposed 
 upon calctilation, and even the conten 5 )t of danger shall be founded only upon 
 the conclusions of reason, in that day what will avail you the loveliness of 
 your climate, the splendor of your intellect, the general fertility of your 
 nature? Their intellectual activity, and an impetuosity directed by prudence 
 and knowledge, may indeed give your children the entire of the world} but the 
 only traces you will leave on the face of the world will be like those of the 
 
 (g) 
 
 sandy whirlpool, terrible as the waves, and sterile as the desert I" 
 
 In religious enthusiasm the romanticist evidenced varying degrees of inten- 
 sity, which marked this phase of romanticism one of tremendous force. The phase 
 of the religious movement which demonstrated romantic enthusiasm most was the 
 Methodist revival of the Wesleys and Whitefield. Professes Burs speaks of 
 romanticism,- ”lt was the effort of the poetic imagination to create for itrelf 
 a richer environment; but it was also, in its deeper significpnce, res?ching 
 out of the human spirit after a more ideslmtype of religion and ethics than it 
 could find in the official churchraanship and the formal morality of tne time,” ( 3 ; 
 
 Methodism was spreading and increasing the religious emotion to which Gow- 
 
 per so powerfully though unostentatiously appealed; and "The Task”met these new 
 
 43 ) Burs, "A History of English Romanticism in the Eighteenth Oentury,” 32 
 
 (2) iiadame de Stael, ’’Germany,” Vol. II, 376 
 
 (1) Symons, "The Symbolist Ivlovement,” Chapter I, 27 
 

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59 ( 1 ) 
 
 needs ■without jarring the old conventions.” And lliomas Ganrphell*s "Pleasures of 
 Hope,” while actually breaking away from eighteenth century conventions, was 
 believed by contemporaries to be in the ”Pope tradition.” Coirpare Pope’s, 
 
 ”Lo the poor Indian, whose untutored mind 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 Sees God in clouds and hears him in!(the wind.” 
 with Oampbell’s,- 
 
 "Come, bright Improvement! on the car of time. 
 
 And rule the spacious world from clime to cl I me; 
 
 Thy handmaid arts shall every wild explore 
 Trace every wave, and culture every shore. 
 
 Or Erie’s banks, where tigers steal along. 
 
 And the dread Indian chants a dismal song. 
 
 Where human fiends on midnight errands walk. 
 
 And bathe in brains tiie murderous tomahawk- 
 These small flocks on thymy pasture stray, 
 
 (3) 
 
 And shepherds dance at Summer’s opening day.” 
 
 In just such a way in Popian guise, came the romantic religious influence. 
 
 Coleridge’s,- mind feels as if it ached to behold and know something 
 
 great , something one and indivisible. And it is only in the faith of that, th 
 
 that rocks or waterfalls, mountains or caverns give me the sense of sublimity 
 (4) 
 
 or majesty.” - conpares with Shelley’s, 
 
 ’’Man, one harmonious soul of many a soul 
 V.Tiose nature is its own divine control, 
 
 (5) 
 
 Where all things flov/ to all, as rivers to the sea.” 
 
 (5) Shelley, ’’Prometheus Unbound," "Shelley’s Gonplete Poetical Works, 
 (Gambritge Edition) 203 
 
 (4r) Coleridge, "Biographia Literaria" (J. Shawcross) Vol. I. 
 
 (3) Thomas Oanpbell, "The Pleasures of Hope," ”Ganpbell*s Poetical Works," 
 (Oxford Edition) IE 
 (2) Pope, "Essay on Man." 
 
 (1) Firederick E. Pierce, "Currents and Eddies in the English Romantic Geuers- 
 atlon."21 
 
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60 
 
 And these contrast with Y^ordsworth’ s more calm desire, - 
 
 '’To look on nature, not as in the horn 
 
 Of thoufi’htless youth; but hearing oftentimes 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 The still, sad music of humanity.” 
 
 Thomas Gray gets a certain religious ecstacy out of nature, also, for in one 
 
 of his letters he writes, "There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist 
 
 into belief, without the help of other argument. One need not have a fantastic 
 
 imagination to see spirits at noonday; you have Death perpetually before your 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 eyes, only so far removed, as to compose your mind without fighting it." 
 
 I^adame de Sta^l says of the effect of nature i:^n religious feeling, "Is nature 
 
 to be felt without enthusiasm? Gan common men address to her the tale of their 
 
 mean interests and low desires? Y/hat have the sea and stars to answer to the 
 
 little vanities with which each individual is content to fill xip each day? But 
 
 if the soul be really moved within us, if in the universe it seeks a God, even 
 
 if it be still sensible to glory and to love, the clouds of heaven willhold 
 
 converse with it, the torrents will listen to its voice, and the breeze that 
 
 passes through the grove seems to deign to whisper to us something of those 
 (3) 
 
 we love." 
 
 Shaft sbury in his "Letter Concerning Enthusiasm" upbraids the more demon- 
 strative type of religious enthusiast;- "There are some, it seems, of our good 
 Brethren, the French Protestants, lately come among us, who are mightily taken 
 with this primitive way. They have set a-foot the Spirit of Martyrdom to a 
 wonder in their own Country; and they long to be trying it here, if we will 
 give *em leave, and afford *em the Occasion: that is to say, if we will only be 
 so obliging as to break their bones for ’em, after their Country fashion; blow 
 up their Zeal, and stira- fresh the Coals of Persecution. But no such Grace can 
 
 (3) Madame de St^el, "Germany," Vol. II, 372 
 
 (2) Wordsworth, "Tinteom Abbey,” "Wordsworth's Complete Poetical Works." 
 
 (Cambridge Edition) 92 
 (1) Thomas Gray, "Letters," Phelps, 97, 98 
 

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61 
 
 they hitherto obtain of us. So hard-hearted v;e are, that notwithstanding their 
 
 own Mob are willing to bestow kind Blov/s i;^on 'em, and fairly stone 'em now and 
 
 then in the open Street: tho the Priests of their own Hation would gladly -give 
 
 'em their desir'd Discipline, and are earnest to light their probationary 
 
 Fires for 'em; we Engli sh Men , who are i5asters in our own Country, will not 
 
 suffer the Enthusiasts to be thus us'd. Nor can we be supposed to act thus in 
 
 envy to their Phoeniz Sect, which it seems has risen out of the Flames, and 
 
 would willingly grow to be a new Church by the same manner of Propagation as th 
 
 ( 1 ) 
 
 old one, whose Seed was truly said to be from the Blood of the Martyrs." 
 
 He goes on to discuss it,- "Many of our first Reformers, 'tis feared, were 
 
 little better than Enthusiasts; and God knows whether a Warmth of this kind did 
 
 ( 2 ) 
 
 not considerably help us in throwing off that spiritual Tsrrsnny." 
 
 He concludes with an explanation of the terms Lymphatici or Hympholipti as 
 
 applied to religious enthusiasts. The latter term Babbitt uses in his chapter 
 
 on Romantic love, applying it to the romanticists' relationship to his love- 
 
 ideal.- "The LyE 5 )hatici of the Latins were the Hympholipti of the Greeks. They 
 
 were Persons said to have some Species of Divinity, as either some rural Deity 
 
 or Hynqph; which threw them into such Transports as overcame their Reason. The 
 
 Fabasys expressed themselves outirardly in Quaking, Trembling, Tossings of the 
 
 Head and Limbs, and Agitations, and (as Livy calls them) Fanatical Tlirows and 
 
 Convulsions, extemporaneous Prayer, Prophecy, Singing and the like. All nations 
 
 have Lyraphaticks of some kind or another; and all Chvirches, Heathen as well as 
 
 (3) 
 
 Christian, have had their Coirplaints against Fanaticism." 
 
 Under the inspiration of such religious leaders as Newton, the Wesleys, a 
 and Whitefield,- though Wesley himself declared against any charge of "Enthusi- 
 asm," represented the religious Expansive force of romanticism, it connoted 
 
 (3) Earl of Shaftsbury,"Characteristicks, " Yol. I, "Letter Concerning Ent'aupirrm'i*! 
 (2) Earl of Shaftsbury,"Characteristicks" Vol, I , "Letter Concerning SnthuEl:rnm"r£ 
 (1) Earl of Shaftsbury,"Characteristicks" Vol, I, Letter Concerning Enthusiasm'' T6 
 

 
 
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62 
 
 introspection and the active desire to connect self with some unbounded, un- 
 restricted Infinite* 
 
 Through enthusiasm the romanticist succeeded in relating himself actively 
 to some ideal of conduct. He may have dreamed of his individual experiences 
 in solitude, he may have symbolized his highest soul in imsginstive t;iought; 
 but through enthusiasm he expressed his purely subjective relr.tionsnip to that 
 ideal* Through enthusiasm he reached out after a certain self-expressive 
 activity, in his endeavors relating himself with the forces of the uni verse, - 
 and striving himself to move things along* His efforts were marlted by indivi- 
 dual standards, for the romanticist scorned the accumulated experience of the 
 past* The past, indeed, if of any value at all, was an emotional bacis:ground 
 for present endeavor and future attainment* To acconplish anything, as Bazlltt 
 says, is joy enough in itself* Then, it made no real difference if efforts 
 failed, there was always romantic hope which projected into the rosy futxire the 
 ultimate attainment of good,— Shelley expresses the idea in its subjective, ro— 
 il^gagitic significance in the closing stanza of Prometheus Unbound,- 
 ”To suffer woes which Hope thihkis infinite; 
 
 To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; 
 
 To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; 
 
 To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates 
 Prom its own wreck the thing it contemplates; 
 neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; 
 
 This like thy glory. Titan, is to be 
 Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; 
 
 This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory*”^^^ 
 
 (1) Shelley, "Prometheus Unbound," "Shelley’s Oonplete Poetical Y/orks," 
 (Cambridge Edition) 206 
 

 
 
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 /