R,CHARD MONCKTON MILNES was born in the year - OUDL Home
R,CHARD MONCKTON MILNES was born in the year - OUDL Home
R,CHARD MONCKTON MILNES was born in the year - OUDL Home
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The Eighteen-Seventies
Cambridge University PressFetter Lane, LondonBombay,Calcutta, MadrasTorontoMacmillanTokyoMaruzen-Kabushiki-KaishaAll rights reservedCopyrighted <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> United States ofAmerica by <strong>the</strong> Macmillan Company
The Eighteen-SeventiesEssays by Fellows of <strong>the</strong>Royal Society of LiteratureEdited byHARLEY GRANVILLE-BARKERCambridgeat <strong>the</strong> University Press1929
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
ContentsPreface . . . . . . . p. vii1. Lord Houghton and his Circle . . . 1By THE MARQUESS OF CREWE2. Novelists of <strong>the</strong>'Seventies . . . 22By HUGH WALPOLE3. Some Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies . 45By WALTER DE LA MARE4. Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies—and After 80By GEORGE SAINTSBURY5. The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies . . . 96By JOHN DRINKWATER6. The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong>'Seventies . . IllBy V. SACKVILLE-WEST7. The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies . . .133By SIR ARTHUR PINERO8. Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith—and <strong>the</strong>Theatre 161By HARLEY GRANVILLE-BARKER9. Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies . 192By FREDERICK S. BOASLO. Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies . . . . 210By R. W. MACANLI. Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies . . . 249By W. E. HEITLAND
PrefaceJL H E s E papers upon <strong>the</strong> Eighteen-seventies were writtenfor—and mostly read to—<strong>the</strong> Royal Society of Literature.With <strong>the</strong> fix<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> subject and <strong>the</strong> parcell<strong>in</strong>g of itsfield collaboration ended. There has been little trespass<strong>in</strong>g;and if, now and <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong> temptation to stray has beenstronger, nei<strong>the</strong>r life nor letters, as DrMacan rem<strong>in</strong>ds us,will ' arrange <strong>the</strong>mselves <strong>in</strong> neat packets of ten <strong>year</strong>s forour convenience \Our immediate concern, of course, is with letters, lessdirectly with life; but <strong>the</strong> time is close at hand when<strong>the</strong> life of <strong>the</strong> Eighteen-seventies will be found <strong>in</strong> itsletters and nowhere else at all. So, if anyone should ask'Why <strong>the</strong> Eighteen-seventies?' here is one answer: it isa period that is just about to become historical. It is,<strong>in</strong>deed, enter<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> orbit of <strong>the</strong> romantic. Those of uswho were <strong>born</strong> <strong>in</strong> it found our elders still cloth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>irromance <strong>in</strong> powder and patches and brocade. We weresoon for <strong>the</strong> bucks and bucksk<strong>in</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> Regency, highwaists and sandals. Books of Beauty, John Leech andhis cr<strong>in</strong>ol<strong>in</strong>es, whiskers and peg-top trousers, looked <strong>the</strong>height of <strong>the</strong> absurd. We have lived to see <strong>the</strong>m grow<strong>in</strong> grace aga<strong>in</strong>; a little more, and <strong>the</strong> cr<strong>in</strong>olette and that'sort of tongs' of Mr de la Mare's recollection (and m<strong>in</strong>e)'which were worn dangl<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong> hips to keep <strong>the</strong>tra<strong>in</strong> from out of <strong>the</strong> dust' will take <strong>the</strong>ir place, re-createdby <strong>the</strong> poet and romancer, among <strong>the</strong> glamorous beautiesof <strong>the</strong> past. At this moment, <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong> Eighteen-seventiesare a period 'just remote and just retrievable enough tobe s<strong>in</strong>gularly beguil<strong>in</strong>g'. I quote Mr de la Mare aga<strong>in</strong>;it is an editor's privilege to pillage his contributors forphrases. In literary reputation, moreover, <strong>the</strong>y are
viiiPrefacedecidedly down on <strong>the</strong>ir luck. It seemed worth whilebefore <strong>the</strong>y became subject to <strong>the</strong> more absolute <strong>in</strong>quisitionof history to take a casual, friendly glance at <strong>the</strong>m.It is no better than a glance, <strong>in</strong> no sense a digest. Thereis no pass<strong>in</strong>g of judgment. But by good luck and deserv<strong>in</strong>g—moreprecisely perhaps, by <strong>the</strong> generous senseof duty of some of its Fellows, steal<strong>in</strong>g time and energyfrom <strong>the</strong>ir own literary affairs—<strong>the</strong> Society has hadat command what is ra<strong>the</strong>r a full battery of glances,fired from vary<strong>in</strong>g po<strong>in</strong>ts of vantage. One ma<strong>in</strong> differenceof position will be noted. Some of us write out of recollection: to some <strong>the</strong> Eighteen-seventies are but historyalready. If <strong>the</strong>re is a h<strong>in</strong>t of attack and defence, ifa slight deflection of <strong>the</strong> fir<strong>in</strong>g would make our area abattleground—well, <strong>the</strong> book will not be <strong>the</strong> less <strong>in</strong>structiveor enterta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g for that.There is better reason for lead<strong>in</strong>g off with a paper onLord Houghton than <strong>the</strong> fact—though <strong>in</strong> academiccourtesy this would be reason enough—that <strong>in</strong> it <strong>the</strong>Society's president writes of his fa<strong>the</strong>r. For, as LordCrewe tells us, '<strong>the</strong> tale of his friendly acqua<strong>in</strong>tanceamong men of letters up to 1870 would be little morethan an exhaustive catalogue of <strong>the</strong> workers <strong>in</strong> that field'.It is surpris<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>deed that he <strong>was</strong> never president himself.He so typified <strong>the</strong> relation between Letters and Affairswhich is England's nearest practical approach to <strong>the</strong>recognition of literature as a public service. Now, whe<strong>the</strong>rthis is a satisfactory one is a large question, far too largefor present discussion. That it is better than none willhardly be disputed; though Lord Houghton himself—if ever a little chafed by that 'alarm<strong>in</strong>g reputation forbenevolence to aspir<strong>in</strong>g writers'—might excusably haveprotested that a human l<strong>in</strong>k is, after all, only Jiuman.He <strong>was</strong> a patron of letters, and sympa<strong>the</strong>tic and discern<strong>in</strong>gas perhaps only one who <strong>was</strong> also a man of letters
Prefacecould be. In this he <strong>in</strong>herited a tradition, under which,from <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> Tudors and yet more remotely,English literature had subsisted—if it had sometimesstarved. A tradition changed and dy<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> his day: it mayalmost be said to have died with him. ' Patronage' has aless pleas<strong>in</strong>g sound to modern ears: we relegate it tocharity concerts and country bazaars. But condescensionis still <strong>the</strong> dictionary's last gloss upon <strong>the</strong> word,and by <strong>the</strong> au<strong>the</strong>ntic th<strong>in</strong>g itself much good work <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>past has been, <strong>in</strong> a proper sense, protected and supported.There <strong>was</strong>, we may be sure, no condescension, noth<strong>in</strong>g of<strong>the</strong> Chesterfield <strong>in</strong> Houghton, nor did N<strong>in</strong>eteenth-centuryauthorship depend upon dedication and subscription.What he did, beside his many acts of personal k<strong>in</strong>dness,<strong>was</strong> to help form public op<strong>in</strong>ion. That <strong>was</strong> a th<strong>in</strong>g worthdo<strong>in</strong>g. Sir Edmund Gosse cites <strong>in</strong>stance after <strong>in</strong>stance ofsuch watchful <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> Sw<strong>in</strong>burne. He did not, be itnoted, set out to make his young poet a best-seller; <strong>the</strong>sales of Poems and Ballads to date would probably, forthat matter, leave a best-sell<strong>in</strong>g publisher of today bewail<strong>in</strong>g.But he could see to it—and he did—that educatedpublic op<strong>in</strong>ion recognised and acknowledged <strong>the</strong> significanceof <strong>the</strong> new th<strong>in</strong>g. Sw<strong>in</strong>burne's books might sellor not sell, be praised or abused; but, with Houghton forsponsor, he could not be neglected.An easier task no doubt—a more grateful one certa<strong>in</strong>ly—so to dom<strong>in</strong>ate on occasion <strong>the</strong> Victorian forum, thans<strong>in</strong>gle-handed to set about <strong>in</strong>oculat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> mob-m<strong>in</strong>d ofto-day. How that has to be done is a study for <strong>the</strong>curious cynic, though a part of <strong>the</strong> process is visible enough<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> costly columns of advertisement which support (<strong>in</strong>more than one sense) a newspaper's 'literary' pages andleaves mere criticism to show like ch<strong>in</strong>ks of fa<strong>in</strong>t light <strong>in</strong>between! Good work, as well as bad, it may be owned,can be planted on <strong>the</strong> public <strong>in</strong> this costermonger fashion.ix
XPrefaceIt very often is; and it will be for as long—just as long—as<strong>the</strong> bus<strong>in</strong>ess proposition pays. But for how long will thatbe? If good and bad alike must be brought <strong>in</strong>to such competitionand given <strong>the</strong> same currency—or none—it maywell be that a Gresham's Law for literature will beg<strong>in</strong> tofunction, and <strong>the</strong> bad money drive out <strong>the</strong> good. It issoon to say. The method of <strong>the</strong> literary world, <strong>in</strong> whichLord Houghton <strong>was</strong> ascendant, had changed but slowlytill, our pre-war yesterday past, it took on of a sudden itspresent hectic complexion. The bus<strong>in</strong>ess man himselfcannot yet have counted <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>al bus<strong>in</strong>ess cost. What<strong>the</strong> cost to our more sober-sided literature may be, thatwhich is, after all, <strong>the</strong> staple of our <strong>in</strong>tellectual credit, itwell becomes a Royal Society of Literature to ask. Thepatron of letters <strong>was</strong> humanly partial, no doubt, andmade his mistakes of omission and commission alike; butat his best he did discrim<strong>in</strong>at<strong>in</strong>gly and dis<strong>in</strong>terestedly dosometh<strong>in</strong>g for literature which cut-throat bus<strong>in</strong>ess competitionand its less overt accompaniments can hardly betrusted to do. If we have now f<strong>in</strong>ally lost him, what isto take his place?Yet, spite of all changes, <strong>the</strong> relation to Affairs whichgives, for good or ill—<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong>, surely, for good, s<strong>in</strong>ceit is of <strong>the</strong> English nature of th<strong>in</strong>gs—its peculiar pragmatict<strong>in</strong>ge to our maturer literature, does essentiallyendure; is here exemplified <strong>in</strong>deed, <strong>in</strong> Lord Crewe himselfand his presidency. And one would suppose it a uniquescope of family experience: a Robert Milnes who <strong>in</strong> 1809refuses a seat <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Cab<strong>in</strong>et as Chancellor of <strong>the</strong> Exchequer,an office which is not <strong>the</strong>n (Oh, happy England!)* of quite <strong>the</strong> first rank'; his son elected to Queen Victoria'sfirst parliament; his grandson, a Liberal statesman <strong>in</strong> 1929.The son's political career <strong>was</strong>, we are told,' disappo<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>gto himself. But he <strong>was</strong>, without doubt, one of <strong>the</strong> chiefarchitects of English Liberalism, his share <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> work <strong>the</strong>
Prefacecultivat<strong>in</strong>g of an attitude of m<strong>in</strong>d, more tolerant andmore sensitive, perhaps, than party politics could <strong>the</strong>neasily accommodate. And one imag<strong>in</strong>es him generouslysatisfied to see—could he have seen—<strong>in</strong> conditions he hadhelped to create, his ambitions fulfilled by his son.The editor of this sort of book is supposed to do nomore than pay pass<strong>in</strong>g—and quite superfluous—complimentsto <strong>the</strong> contributors. The difficult th<strong>in</strong>g is toavoid that <strong>in</strong>tolerable gesture of <strong>the</strong> pat on <strong>the</strong> back; <strong>the</strong>more <strong>in</strong>tolerable, if, as <strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong>stances here, one must standupon tiptoe to adm<strong>in</strong>ister it. I venture, <strong>the</strong>n, no morethan a most modest Thank you to Dr Sa<strong>in</strong>tsbury for histribute to Andrew Lang, that writer from a full m<strong>in</strong>d,written for us from a m<strong>in</strong>d as full. But I cull from it asumm<strong>in</strong>g up of Lang's style which any young aspirantmight do well to p<strong>in</strong> for a motto over his desk '... pervasive,but not obtrusive; varied but not superficial;facile to a wonderful degree, but never trivial or trumpery'.And aga<strong>in</strong>, one feels <strong>the</strong> praise come boomerang<strong>in</strong>g backto its author.Of Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero, I will only say that I am tempted,beh<strong>in</strong>d his back, to alter <strong>the</strong> title of his paper to 'TheTheatre as I found it'. He does needed justice to T. W.Robertson. And if <strong>the</strong> truth of his say<strong>in</strong>g that '<strong>in</strong>deal<strong>in</strong>g with <strong>the</strong> stage you must judge an author's work<strong>in</strong> relation to <strong>the</strong> age <strong>in</strong> which he wrote', is, it may beclaimed, as applicable to o<strong>the</strong>r arts, no one who hasnever been tangled <strong>in</strong> its mach<strong>in</strong>ery can know how trueit is of <strong>the</strong> Theatre! Therefore, when we consider what,spite of generous excuses, <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre really <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> those'seventies my temptation is to prepare <strong>the</strong> way for acompanion paper, should this series extend, say, to <strong>the</strong>N<strong>in</strong>eties, to be written by a younger dramatist (<strong>the</strong>re aremany who could gratefully write it) with <strong>the</strong> title 'TheTheatre that Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero did most to make'. For itxi
xiiPrefacewould be a far more <strong>in</strong>spirit<strong>in</strong>g picture. My own paperby <strong>the</strong> way, <strong>the</strong> present companion to his, could as wellbe called ' The Theatre of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies as it might havebeen \Mr Walpole and Mr de la Mare have an easier timewith <strong>the</strong> novelists, one notices, than do Miss Sackville-West and Mr Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater with <strong>the</strong>ir poets. Mr Walpole'sgeneralisation that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> extreme Englishness of <strong>the</strong>English novel lay its primitive store of strength whichsophistication must sap (for a time, will he let us <strong>in</strong>terject?)and his sympa<strong>the</strong>tic view of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies as a period ofmediocre achievement, truly, but of <strong>the</strong> struggle towardsa lost honesty <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> pictur<strong>in</strong>g of life—this surely is afar-reach<strong>in</strong>g truth, and o<strong>the</strong>r th<strong>in</strong>gs than novel-writ<strong>in</strong>gcome under its searchlight. But English life, as livedbeyond <strong>the</strong> borders of Bloomsbury, and <strong>the</strong> Englishcharacter have changed less than some modern novels(though not Mr Walpole's own) would lead us to suppose.I fancy that Mr James Payn's hero with his 'I am noneof your dreamy ones, thank God! It is eleven o'clock.There are one, two, three good hours of fish<strong>in</strong>g before me;and <strong>the</strong>n, ah, <strong>the</strong>n, for my sweet Mildred!' is still a fairlycommon object of <strong>the</strong> countryside, though he may notphrase his feel<strong>in</strong>gs quite so elegantly (he would if hecould, however); and his sweet Mildred, truly, is apt,nowadays, to have gone fish<strong>in</strong>g too.Mr Walpole and Mr Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater have a fortuitous andstimulat<strong>in</strong>g difference of op<strong>in</strong>ion upon <strong>the</strong> possibility ofdiscuss<strong>in</strong>g literature by periods; but it turns out, as sooften happens, not to be a real difference after all.Miss Sackville-West and Mr de la Mare come to an equallyfortuitous agreement upon <strong>the</strong> sound pr<strong>in</strong>ciple that selfconsciousnessis fatal to creative art, and that thisweighed heavily and sometimes disastrously upon <strong>the</strong>women writers of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. The two papers do <strong>in</strong>deed
Preface• • •xmcomplement each o<strong>the</strong>r very admirably. I thank MissSackville-West for that phrase '<strong>the</strong> high Victorianstandard of bashfulness' and Mr Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater for his testof <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or poet; one found just destitute of sav<strong>in</strong>gorig<strong>in</strong>al grace, his best hardly ever fail<strong>in</strong>g to rem<strong>in</strong>d usof <strong>the</strong> men that have done better. And for all that<strong>the</strong>ir field looked barren, <strong>the</strong>y do f<strong>in</strong>d some flowers <strong>in</strong> it.One knew that <strong>in</strong> many ways <strong>the</strong> 'seventies must provea barren field. It <strong>was</strong> stubble time and seed time. Butone of our tasks <strong>was</strong> to search for <strong>the</strong> flowers, howeverfew.Mr de la Mare's field on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, proved to bea perfect jungle, and his paper set me th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g about all<strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r papers we might have had; upon Punch <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies; upon <strong>the</strong> songs of <strong>the</strong> Seventies (if he pursueshis <strong>in</strong>vestigations I commend to his notice <strong>the</strong> works, <strong>in</strong>this k<strong>in</strong>d, of Virg<strong>in</strong>ia Gabriel, particularly 'Weary, soweary of wait<strong>in</strong>g, long<strong>in</strong>g to lie down and die!' with, foran antidote, <strong>the</strong> comic draw<strong>in</strong>g-room ballad—an ext<strong>in</strong>ctspecies—'There were three old maids of Lee'); <strong>the</strong>domestic culture of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, and what not! He doesmost usefully po<strong>in</strong>t out to <strong>the</strong> future social historian that<strong>the</strong>re will be no authority upon <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>n appearance of<strong>the</strong> homes of England, stately and o<strong>the</strong>r, to comparewith <strong>the</strong> woman novelist. In such matters men are notto be trusted.Dr Boas seems to have had <strong>the</strong> most straightforwardtask; though an admirably ordered result is no sure signof it. But he f<strong>in</strong>ds his 'seventies undoubtedly robust <strong>in</strong>critical, whatever <strong>the</strong>y may have been <strong>in</strong> creative power.It is to be remarked that he lays stress—and with goodreason, surely—upon Pater's <strong>in</strong>fluence, which Dr Macan,<strong>in</strong> his re-<strong>in</strong>tegrat<strong>in</strong>g of Pater's university, can dismiss<strong>in</strong> a sentence; an <strong>in</strong>stance of our fruitful diversity ofoutlook.
xivPrefaceWith <strong>the</strong> two au<strong>the</strong>ntic pictures of <strong>the</strong> Oxford andCambridge of <strong>the</strong> decade we end—end with <strong>the</strong>m because<strong>the</strong>y make <strong>the</strong> spr<strong>in</strong>g board for <strong>the</strong> decades to come, <strong>the</strong>five of <strong>the</strong>m, now nearly past. These are perhaps, <strong>the</strong>n,if we exam<strong>in</strong>e <strong>the</strong>m closely, <strong>the</strong> most significant picturesof all. For out of that Oxford, look<strong>in</strong>g 'mild andmodest and mid-Victorian beside <strong>the</strong> Oxford of today,but.. .alive and mov<strong>in</strong>g', out of that Cambridge, whichsaw <strong>the</strong> mak<strong>in</strong>g of Newnham and Girton, most that stillsteadies, if it with ever greater difficulty dom<strong>in</strong>ates, <strong>the</strong>immediate <strong>in</strong>tellectual life of England has come. Mild<strong>the</strong>y may have looked, both of <strong>the</strong>m; but from DrMacan's and Mr Heitland's mellow pages come echoes ofconflict enough. It <strong>was</strong> a time (for all k<strong>in</strong>dl<strong>in</strong>ess ofrem<strong>in</strong>iscence) of hard struggle, that is clear, for men<strong>the</strong>re, whose eyes were, as <strong>the</strong>y should have been, on <strong>the</strong>future ra<strong>the</strong>r than <strong>the</strong> past;'... a period', says Dr Macan,'of disappo<strong>in</strong>tment, unsatisfied demands, apparent reaction,yet with a touch of Spr<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> air'. Thanks<strong>the</strong>n, to <strong>the</strong> men, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> persons of <strong>the</strong>se honouredsurvivors of <strong>the</strong>m, who endured <strong>the</strong> disappo<strong>in</strong>tments,refused to be satisfied, withstood <strong>the</strong> reaction, and had<strong>the</strong> faith that could discern <strong>the</strong> 'touch of Spr<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> air'.There will never be a time when Oxford and Cambridgeand England have not need of <strong>the</strong>ir like. By a widerview than we can take from <strong>the</strong> top of <strong>the</strong> pile—thoughit makes a high enough pile, heaven knows!—of imag<strong>in</strong>ativeand sometimes unimag<strong>in</strong>ative literature, <strong>the</strong> Englands of<strong>the</strong> Eighteen-seventies and N<strong>in</strong>eteen-twenties may havemore <strong>in</strong> common than <strong>the</strong> change <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> noise of <strong>the</strong>irlife lets us suppose. And, to pillage Mr de la Mare oncemore, 'The very <strong>year</strong>s we now so actively occupy willsoon be packed up <strong>in</strong> an old satchel....' But, no.! Thereare limits to an editor's privilege.H. G-B.
•H--J § 1 U«-*••••••••»•••»••« MM »••>
2 The Marquess of Creweher journal that he immediately said: 'Oh, no, I will not:accept ei<strong>the</strong>r; with my temperament, I should be dead<strong>in</strong> a <strong>year</strong>'. This prompt refusal rema<strong>in</strong>ed a puzzle toeverybody. Robert Milnes <strong>was</strong> a close follower of Cann<strong>in</strong>g,and <strong>in</strong> general sympathy with <strong>the</strong> Government.He <strong>was</strong> a scholar, and a man of very wide read<strong>in</strong>g, besidesenjoy<strong>in</strong>g cheerful society and be<strong>in</strong>g a brillianthorseman and shot, so that nei<strong>the</strong>r diffidence nor healthcould have been <strong>the</strong> real obstacle, and it can only besurmised that he <strong>was</strong> deterred by <strong>the</strong> restrictions ofoffice, and by <strong>the</strong> dread of hav<strong>in</strong>g to give up country lifefor <strong>the</strong> greater part of <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>. When he died, just fifty<strong>year</strong>s later, Lord Palmerston wrote to rem<strong>in</strong>d his sonthat it <strong>was</strong> Robert Milnes's refusal of office which hadfirst opened <strong>the</strong> political gateway to himself <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> postof Secretary at War.Accord<strong>in</strong>gly, Richard Milnes grew up as <strong>the</strong> son of acountry gentleman, not of a M<strong>in</strong>ister, though his fa<strong>the</strong>rrema<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong> Parliament for a number of <strong>year</strong>s. An illnessprevented his be<strong>in</strong>g educated at Harrow, and he spenthis time with a tutor, ma<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> country, but with alittle travel to Scotland and elsewhere, until he went toCambridge <strong>in</strong> 1827. It is never easy to estimate <strong>the</strong>importance of <strong>in</strong>tellectual groups as <strong>the</strong>y flourish atdifferent periods, and <strong>the</strong> Cambridge set of that day grewup <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> mid-Victorians, whose aims and achievementsit is now <strong>the</strong> fashion to belittle; but, to us of <strong>the</strong> generationwho succeeded <strong>the</strong>m, it certa<strong>in</strong>ly seems that aUniversity at which Whewell and Thirlwall were Collegetutors, and where Charles Buller, John Sterl<strong>in</strong>g, R. C.Trench, Julius Hare, Cavendish (<strong>the</strong> seventh Duke ofDevonshire), and Stafford O'Brien were undergraduates,shortly followed by <strong>the</strong> three Tennyson bro<strong>the</strong>rs,Thackeray, Ralph Bernal Os<strong>born</strong>e, G. S. Ven&bles, <strong>the</strong>Lush<strong>in</strong>gton bro<strong>the</strong>rs, James Spedd<strong>in</strong>g, Arthur Hallam,
Lord Houghton and his Circle 3and W. H. Thompson, presents such a constellation ofnames as it would be difficult to equal. Most of <strong>the</strong>se wereat Tr<strong>in</strong>ity, and it would be possible to mention a goodmany o<strong>the</strong>rs who made <strong>the</strong>ir mark <strong>in</strong> one direction orano<strong>the</strong>r. I have heard my fa<strong>the</strong>r say that Arthur Hallamstood easily first of <strong>the</strong>m all. With one or two exceptions,all those of whom he, <strong>in</strong> later life, delighted to speak ashis ' playfellows' are to be found <strong>in</strong> this list. He thoroughlyenjoyed Cambridge, and he worked hard, though on toowide a field to admit of dist<strong>in</strong>ction <strong>in</strong> a tripos, even if hislife-long aversion from ma<strong>the</strong>matics had not tended tobar that particular door. But he won some prizes, tookpart <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atricals which were <strong>the</strong>n becom<strong>in</strong>g popular,spoke at <strong>the</strong> Union (though express<strong>in</strong>g doubts whe<strong>the</strong>rthis might not be <strong>in</strong> reality damag<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> correctparliamentary manner), and enterta<strong>in</strong>ed his friendslargely. He headed, with Arthur Hallam and that mostbrilliant of failures, Thomas Sunderland, <strong>the</strong> famousexpedition to <strong>the</strong> Oxford Union, <strong>in</strong> which Cambridgeargued <strong>the</strong> claims of Shelley aga<strong>in</strong>st Oxford's championshipof Byron. In his letter to his mo<strong>the</strong>r, describ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>Oxford hosts, of whom Mann<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> one, he said: ' Theman that took me most <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> youngest Gladstone ofLiverpool, I am sure a very superior person'. The lastphrase <strong>was</strong> used, one may be certa<strong>in</strong>, without <strong>the</strong> ironicalsuggestion that later attached to it at Oxford.Richard Milnes <strong>was</strong> no athlete, and <strong>in</strong> those daysorganised games and sports only attracted real devotees;but his nerve <strong>was</strong> good, and he dist<strong>in</strong>guished himself by<strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>n uncommon feat of a balloon ascent, from whichhe landed miles off at Castle Ashby. His exeat <strong>was</strong>couched <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> form ' Ascendat R. Milnes'.It is clear from <strong>the</strong> correspondence of that period tha<strong>the</strong> had expected to pass straight from <strong>the</strong> University <strong>in</strong>toParliament. But for <strong>the</strong> time be<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>se hopes were1-2
4 The Marquess of Crewedashed to <strong>the</strong> ground by a crisis <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> family affairs.His fa<strong>the</strong>r, though at one time he spent lavishly, <strong>was</strong> tooshrewd to get <strong>in</strong>to difficulties, but his uncle, Rodes Milnes,<strong>was</strong> of ano<strong>the</strong>r type. Better endowed than most youngersons, and enjoy<strong>in</strong>g a post which <strong>was</strong> little more than as<strong>in</strong>ecure, he <strong>was</strong> an <strong>in</strong>veterate gambler, and a supporterof <strong>the</strong> famous rac<strong>in</strong>g-stable of John Scott. After a longcourse of vary<strong>in</strong>g successes and failures, <strong>the</strong> latter, asusually happens, began to predom<strong>in</strong>ate, and broughtabout a f<strong>in</strong>ancial crash. The elder Mrs Milnes, who hadbeen a considerable heiress, <strong>was</strong> still alive, and she andRobert Milnes came to <strong>the</strong> rescue. He, for his part, tosusta<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> honour of <strong>the</strong> family, paid large sums forwhich he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> no way responsible. Everyth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong>shut up for a time, and <strong>the</strong> family went to live abroadbefore 1830, so that <strong>the</strong> expectation which RichardMilnes had enterta<strong>in</strong>ed of stand<strong>in</strong>g for Pontefract <strong>in</strong> that<strong>year</strong> could not be gratified, though possibly less forf<strong>in</strong>ancial reasons than from his fa<strong>the</strong>r's doubts at <strong>the</strong>moment of his aptitude for political life.For some <strong>year</strong>s, <strong>the</strong>refore, he spent a great part ofhis time abroad. His family lived chiefly at Milan andVenice. But he also <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> London from time to time,and visited Ireland and Scotland. In 1832 he made afive months' tour <strong>in</strong> Greece, which <strong>in</strong> those days meantrough<strong>in</strong>g it considerably, and <strong>the</strong> eventual outcome <strong>was</strong>his first volume of poetry, <strong>the</strong> Memorials of a Tour <strong>in</strong>Greece, published <strong>in</strong> 1834.In 1835 his family resumed life <strong>in</strong> England, <strong>the</strong>ir affairsbe<strong>in</strong>g tolerably re-established, though on a somewhat reducedscale. And two <strong>year</strong>s later Richard Milnes entered<strong>the</strong> House of Commons for Pontefract. He sat as aConservative, though <strong>in</strong> some ways but loosely attachedto <strong>the</strong> party. Through <strong>the</strong> earlier <strong>year</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> centuryhis fa<strong>the</strong>r had been <strong>in</strong> favour of Emancipation, and of a
Lord Houghton and his Circle 5moderate measure of Reform giv<strong>in</strong>g representation to<strong>the</strong> larger towns. But his real devotion <strong>was</strong> to <strong>the</strong> landed<strong>in</strong>terest, and conceiv<strong>in</strong>g this to be imperilled by <strong>the</strong>measure of 1832, he described himself as belong<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong>Tory party; and his son, who had always dislikedParliamentary Reform, did <strong>the</strong> same. The conservatismof each <strong>was</strong> of a quite different type. The fa<strong>the</strong>r, thoughof an age when his powers might have been at <strong>the</strong>irfullest maturity, <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> fact a belated survival of <strong>the</strong>eighteenth century. He had sat <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> House of Commonswith Pitt and with Fox, and he had seen <strong>the</strong> statesmenbut a decade older than himself, such as Cann<strong>in</strong>g,Castlereagh, and Liverpool, rise to em<strong>in</strong>ence and passaway one by one. He and his son were united by realaffection, and by admiration for each o<strong>the</strong>r's gifts, buttwo more <strong>in</strong>compatible people could scarcely have beenfound, and though <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> never any breach between<strong>the</strong>m, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> very little genu<strong>in</strong>e understand<strong>in</strong>g.The son, as it happened, through <strong>the</strong> circumstances ofhis life, had never had to undergo any course of discipl<strong>in</strong>e.He had not been at a public school, University life <strong>was</strong><strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> untrammelled, and dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>s spentabroad, he had been very much his own master. Andcriticism, however po<strong>in</strong>ted, does not take <strong>the</strong> place of discipl<strong>in</strong>e.It says much for <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>herent sweetness ofRichard Milnes's nature that he did not resent <strong>the</strong>cynical attitude sometimes taken by his fa<strong>the</strong>r, but hisentry <strong>in</strong>to London life would have been easier, and hemight have avoided some mistakes if he had had tospend, so to speak, more hours on <strong>the</strong> drill ground andfewer <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> orderly room.This paper is not a biography, and I cannot attempt tosketch, except <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> briefest outl<strong>in</strong>e, my fa<strong>the</strong>r's politicalcareer up to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. He <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> a followerof Sir Robert Peel, and supported his fiscal policy <strong>in</strong> 1846.
6 The Marquess of CreweBut here, for <strong>the</strong> first time <strong>in</strong> public, he found himself<strong>in</strong> friendly opposition to his fa<strong>the</strong>r, who emerged fromhis retirement <strong>in</strong> order to head <strong>in</strong> Yorkshire <strong>the</strong> Protectionistopposition to Peel. Before this crisis my fa<strong>the</strong>rhad carried on a political flirtation with' Young England',though he <strong>was</strong> never actually a member of that remarkableforerunner of <strong>the</strong> Fourth Party of later days. After<strong>the</strong> fall of Sir Robert Peel, he did not jo<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> brilliantlittle band of Peelites, but declared himself a Liberal andleft <strong>the</strong> Carlton Club, though rema<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g a man of <strong>the</strong>Centre ra<strong>the</strong>r than of <strong>the</strong> Left. Later he regarded himselfas a follower of Lord Palmerston ra<strong>the</strong>r than of anyo<strong>the</strong>r leader, though I remember hear<strong>in</strong>g him say that<strong>the</strong> statesman with whom he found himself <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fullestsympathy <strong>was</strong> Lord Aberdeen. Of <strong>the</strong> two great figureswho dom<strong>in</strong>ated <strong>in</strong> Parliament <strong>the</strong> later <strong>year</strong>s of his lifeI will say a word <strong>in</strong> a moment, but it is necessary tomention <strong>the</strong> two fields <strong>in</strong> which he pr<strong>in</strong>cipally exercisedhimself—that of foreign politics, and that of penal reformat home. On <strong>the</strong> first ground he <strong>was</strong> extremely wellequipped by his knowledge of foreign countries, and by<strong>the</strong> ease with which he penetrated <strong>in</strong>to political circlesabroad. He had close personal friends <strong>in</strong> France, especiallyTocqueville, Guizot, and Montalembert; hispr<strong>in</strong>cipal tie with Germany <strong>was</strong> his close friendship with<strong>the</strong> family of Baron von Bunsen; curiously enough, withall his knowledge of Italy, he had fewer friends andcorrespondents <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Italian political world. He wrotefrequently, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> monthly Reviews and elsewhere, onforeign affairs, and <strong>in</strong> 1849 he published, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> form ofan open letter to Lord Lansdowne, a remarkable pamphleton The Events o/1848. This created some sensation,which <strong>was</strong> not dim<strong>in</strong>ished by <strong>the</strong> appearance, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Morn<strong>in</strong>g Chronicle, of an article not merely assail<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>op<strong>in</strong>ions expressed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> pamphlet, but filled with coarse
Lord Houghton and his Circle 7personal abuse of <strong>the</strong> writer. This <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> work of GeorgeSmy<strong>the</strong>, one of <strong>the</strong> heroes of 'Young England', and <strong>the</strong>orig<strong>in</strong>al of Con<strong>in</strong>gsby. He had been Peel's Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs <strong>in</strong> 1845, and <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> personmy fa<strong>the</strong>r most disliked, on various grounds. He <strong>the</strong>refore—ra<strong>the</strong>rsurpris<strong>in</strong>gly <strong>in</strong> view of <strong>the</strong> date—challengedGeorge Smy<strong>the</strong> to a duel. The affair <strong>was</strong> patched up,though <strong>the</strong> parties never spoke aga<strong>in</strong>; and my fa<strong>the</strong>ralways said that his second and great friend, <strong>the</strong> brilliantwriter Eliot Warburton, could not quite conceal his disappo<strong>in</strong>tmentat <strong>the</strong> tame end<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> bus<strong>in</strong>ess—asmight have been expected from a loyal son of Co. Galway.Two <strong>year</strong>s later George Smy<strong>the</strong> had to fight a duel overan election squabble, <strong>the</strong> last, I believe, that <strong>was</strong> fought<strong>in</strong> England. And, almost at <strong>the</strong> same time, Eliot Warburtonmet a heroic death on <strong>the</strong> deck of <strong>the</strong> burn<strong>in</strong>g shipAmazon.Robert Milnes died <strong>in</strong> 1858. He had, some <strong>year</strong>s before,refused a peerage offered him through Lord Palmerston,and <strong>the</strong> honour <strong>was</strong> conferred on his son <strong>in</strong> 1863. Thelatter took k<strong>in</strong>dly to <strong>the</strong> atmosphere of <strong>the</strong> House ofLords, and <strong>in</strong>tervened <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> debates from time to time.He spoke out stoutly on <strong>the</strong> Federal side <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> AmericanCivil War, partly from hold<strong>in</strong>g a real conviction on <strong>the</strong>rights of <strong>the</strong> dispute, and partly from be<strong>in</strong>g more andmore closely attracted to those elements <strong>in</strong> English publiclife which were conspicuous <strong>in</strong> sympathy for <strong>the</strong> Nor<strong>the</strong>rncause. But both before and after he went to <strong>the</strong> House ofLords, his <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> foreign affairs <strong>was</strong> at least equalledby his keen desire to help <strong>in</strong> reform<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> treatment ofcrim<strong>in</strong>als at home. The great social reforms associatedwith <strong>the</strong> name of Lord Shaftesbury had his full sympathy,though he <strong>was</strong> never specially prom<strong>in</strong>ent <strong>in</strong> advocat<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong>m. But he <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> first to force through Parliamenta measure establish<strong>in</strong>g reformatories for youthful
8 The Marquess of Creweoffenders, and he became President of <strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>al <strong>in</strong>stitutionat Redhill. I can testify from my own recollectionthat, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> midst of his thousand occupations, <strong>the</strong>question of <strong>the</strong> treatment of young crim<strong>in</strong>als <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> onenearest to his heart. He <strong>was</strong> also active <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> movementfor abolish<strong>in</strong>g public executions. In Thackeray's accountof his expedition to watch <strong>the</strong> crowd at <strong>the</strong> execution ofCourvoisier <strong>in</strong> 1840, X., <strong>the</strong> friend who drove him to <strong>the</strong>scene, <strong>was</strong> my fa<strong>the</strong>r.He <strong>was</strong> never attached to <strong>the</strong> Court <strong>in</strong> any capacity,but received much consideration from <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce Consort.And his early knowledge of <strong>the</strong> German character enabledhim to discern <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>e and sympa<strong>the</strong>tic qualities whichunderlay <strong>the</strong> rigid crust of education and caste, belowwhich contemporary British society <strong>was</strong> quite unable topenetrate. It <strong>was</strong>, perhaps, more surpris<strong>in</strong>g that myfa<strong>the</strong>r should have been someth<strong>in</strong>g of a favourite with<strong>the</strong> Duke of Well<strong>in</strong>gton. The great man, as we know, oncewrote that he had ' been much exposed to authors', andhe regarded <strong>the</strong>m with a terror never <strong>in</strong>spired by <strong>the</strong>batteries of <strong>the</strong> enemy. But he appreciated <strong>the</strong> goodtemper, <strong>the</strong> varied knowledge, and <strong>the</strong> many-sidedhumour of <strong>the</strong> younger man, who should here receive asmuch credit, though of an entirely different k<strong>in</strong>d, as hedoes for secur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> approbation of Thomas Carlyle. Heheld <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> highest esteem <strong>the</strong> abilities of his contemporary,<strong>the</strong> second Duke of Well<strong>in</strong>gton, say<strong>in</strong>g, 'Hewould have been one of <strong>the</strong> greatest men <strong>in</strong> England ifhe had not been so completely overshadowed by hisfa<strong>the</strong>r'.The twenty-six <strong>year</strong>s of Richard Milnes's membershipof <strong>the</strong> House of Commons, and <strong>the</strong> twenty-two dur<strong>in</strong>gwhich he sat <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> House of Lords, were crowded withoccasions of <strong>in</strong>terest, though it would not be true toregard him as an important figure <strong>in</strong> ei<strong>the</strong>r House. It
Lord Houghton and his Circle 9<strong>was</strong> certa<strong>in</strong>ly a disappo<strong>in</strong>tment to him that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'fortieshe <strong>was</strong> never offered office. He considered, surely notwithout reason, that he <strong>was</strong> well equipped for <strong>the</strong> Under-Secretaryship at <strong>the</strong> Foreign Office <strong>in</strong> particular. He hadat that time a reputation for eccentricity which <strong>was</strong> alittle puzzl<strong>in</strong>g to those who only knew him <strong>in</strong> later life,though it is true that <strong>the</strong> passage of <strong>year</strong>s sometimesmakes mellow personal idiosyncrasies which are startl<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong> a younger man. His great friend, Charles Buller, oncesaid to him: ' I often th<strong>in</strong>k how puzzled your Maker mustbe to account for your conduct'; and political leaders mayhave thought it dangerous to entrust a responsible postto him with <strong>the</strong> uneasy feel<strong>in</strong>g of never quite know<strong>in</strong>gwhat he would do next. His sub-conscious knowledge ofthis perhaps reacted unfortunately <strong>in</strong> one direction. Ashis friend Venables observed <strong>in</strong> his affectionate obituarynotice, ' He failed as a Parliamentary orator through <strong>the</strong>adoption of a formal and almost pompous manner which<strong>was</strong> wholly foreign to his genius and disposition. One of<strong>the</strong> most humorous of companions, he reserved for <strong>the</strong>House of Commons a curiously artificial gravity'. In1855 he <strong>was</strong> offered a Lordship of <strong>the</strong> Treasury, but feltthat it <strong>was</strong> too late to make a beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g.Richard Milnes <strong>was</strong> closely <strong>in</strong>timate throughout hislife with <strong>the</strong> two great political rivals who were hiscontemporaries. He first knew Disraeli well <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> cheerfulBohemian atmosphere of Gore House, and <strong>was</strong> sitt<strong>in</strong>gbeside him at <strong>the</strong> moment of <strong>the</strong> famous maiden speechthat ended with <strong>the</strong> phrase,' The time will come when youwill hear me'—'Yes, old fellow, it will', said his friend.And <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>timacy cont<strong>in</strong>ued over <strong>year</strong>s, with possiblya slight t<strong>in</strong>ge of jealousy on each side—though Disraelipaid many visits to Fryston and Bawtry, <strong>the</strong> two Milneshouses <strong>in</strong> Yorkshire, and developed a special cult for hisfriend's fa<strong>the</strong>r, whom he apparently regarded as <strong>the</strong> ideal
10 The Marquess of Crewecountry squire. Later on a breach occurred which hasnever been completely expla<strong>in</strong>ed. Milnes criticised mostof <strong>the</strong> novels <strong>in</strong> quarterly Reviews, not disparag<strong>in</strong>gly,though not always with unmixed admiration. In <strong>the</strong>Corn Law controversy <strong>the</strong>y took different sides, but nevercame specially <strong>in</strong>to collision. Disraeli's attachment toGeorge Smy<strong>the</strong> might be taken to account for a quarrel,but Smy<strong>the</strong> and Disraeli had <strong>the</strong>mselves parted companywhen <strong>the</strong> former jo<strong>in</strong>ed Peel's Government. In TancredDisraeli had drawn his amus<strong>in</strong>g portrait of Mr Vavasour,which <strong>was</strong> certa<strong>in</strong>ly not ill-natured, though a shadepatronis<strong>in</strong>g; <strong>in</strong> 1852, when Disraeli perpetrated hisfamous gaffe of borrow<strong>in</strong>g from an old address of M.Thiers for his speech on <strong>the</strong> Duke of Well<strong>in</strong>gton, myfa<strong>the</strong>r put matters right with The Times, and Disraeliwrote thank<strong>in</strong>g him—'I really th<strong>in</strong>k you have <strong>the</strong> bestdisposition <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world'. It <strong>was</strong> a surprise, <strong>the</strong>refore,to f<strong>in</strong>d <strong>in</strong> Lord Beaconsfield's Life that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'sixties,among various memoranda describ<strong>in</strong>g his acqua<strong>in</strong>tance,he wrote one about Richard Milnes which can only bedescribed as venomous. I am sure that my fa<strong>the</strong>r neverrealised <strong>the</strong> extent of his former friend's distaste, and sofar as it troubled him at all, accounted for it by <strong>the</strong>critical tone of his own review of Lothair. When <strong>the</strong>y met,as I once or twice remember <strong>the</strong>ir do<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong>ir relationswere apparently quite friendly, though <strong>in</strong> no way cordial.With Mr Gladstone it <strong>was</strong> quite ano<strong>the</strong>r story. Here<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> real personal attachment, though I do notth<strong>in</strong>k that my fa<strong>the</strong>r as a rule shared Gladstone'spolitical enthusiasms, or sympathised with <strong>the</strong> vigourwith which conviction made him drive home any argument<strong>in</strong> support of his case at a given moment. ' Gladstone'smethod of impartiality', he once said, 'is be<strong>in</strong>gfuriously earnest on both sides of a question.' But hisadmiration for that wonderful genius and that lofty
Lord Houghton and his Circle 11character <strong>was</strong>, <strong>in</strong> fact, unbounded. He enjoyed fromtime to time writ<strong>in</strong>g critical notes to his friend on someissue of policy, and he always received at once reasonedreplies, with <strong>the</strong> detailed arguments needed <strong>in</strong> support of<strong>the</strong> particular case. My fa<strong>the</strong>r's visits to Ha warden alwaysgave him keen pleasure, which, I believe, his hosts entirelyshared.Such, <strong>in</strong> brief outl<strong>in</strong>e, is <strong>the</strong> history of my fa<strong>the</strong>r'sactivities <strong>in</strong> public life. Disappo<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g to himself, as Ivery well know, but always <strong>in</strong>spired by a deep humanity,and not altoge<strong>the</strong>r unfruitful <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>mselves.Though he would have enjoyed success <strong>in</strong> political lifemore than anyth<strong>in</strong>g else, yet it <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world of lettersthat he <strong>was</strong> most thoroughly at home, and his real <strong>in</strong>timacy<strong>was</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>r with writers and th<strong>in</strong>kers than withstatesmen who might be nei<strong>the</strong>r. Certa<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>the</strong> mostremarkable of <strong>the</strong>se friendships <strong>was</strong> that with Carlyle.It <strong>was</strong> an attraction of opposites, for on <strong>the</strong> surface twomen more utterly unlike could hardly have been found.It <strong>was</strong> Charles Buller who brought <strong>the</strong>m toge<strong>the</strong>r, <strong>in</strong>1836, when <strong>the</strong> French Revolution <strong>was</strong> be<strong>in</strong>g written. Alittle later Carlyle paid several visits to Fryston, and afrequent though irregular correspondence passed between<strong>the</strong> two. They often argued, but, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> well-known phrasewhich Carlyle used <strong>in</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r connection, 'except <strong>in</strong>op<strong>in</strong>ion not disagree<strong>in</strong>g'; and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> words of Venableswritten after my fa<strong>the</strong>r's death: ' His cheerful paradoxesoften dissipated <strong>the</strong> moral <strong>in</strong>dignation of Carlyle'. Bothmust have met frequently at The Grange, and, as <strong>the</strong>Milnes Notebooks show, he appreciated <strong>the</strong> charm andwit of Lady Ashburton as highly as did <strong>the</strong> philosopherhimself, though, with his wider experience of salons, <strong>the</strong>ymay not have seemed to him so absolutely unique as <strong>the</strong>ydid to his friend. Altoge<strong>the</strong>r his relation with <strong>the</strong> Carlylesstood on a foot<strong>in</strong>g of its own.
12 The Marquess of CreweBesides those on <strong>the</strong> Cambridge list who rose to dist<strong>in</strong>ction<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world of letters, Alfred Tennyson <strong>in</strong> particular,he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>timate with Thackeray and Dickens,while <strong>the</strong> tale of his friendly acqua<strong>in</strong>tance among men ofletters up to 1870 would be little more than an exhaustivecatalogue of <strong>the</strong> workers <strong>in</strong> that field. Though he neverhad a specially full purse, even after his fa<strong>the</strong>r's death,he helped many writers to <strong>the</strong> utmost of his means. Andany of us who know someth<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> work<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong>Literary Fund, are aware how dire is sometimes <strong>the</strong> needof writers whose books are on every stall, and whosenames are on every tongue. But he did much more thangive. He took endless personal pa<strong>in</strong>s to get one man outof a scrape, or to f<strong>in</strong>d congenial work for ano<strong>the</strong>r. In1860 <strong>the</strong> young Scottish poet, David Gray—not a Keatsor even a Chatterton, but a humbler counterpart of ei<strong>the</strong>r—romantic and consumptive, with a real gift of song,came to London, and <strong>was</strong> saved from misery, though notfrom <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>evitable death which claimed him with<strong>in</strong> a<strong>year</strong>, by successive acts of thoughtful k<strong>in</strong>dness. Myfa<strong>the</strong>r earned at last an alarm<strong>in</strong>g reputation for benevolenceto aspir<strong>in</strong>g writers, and his writ<strong>in</strong>g table <strong>was</strong> litteredwith appeals from all po<strong>in</strong>ts of <strong>the</strong> compass. Such acorrespondence produces but few David Grays, but <strong>the</strong>recipient of <strong>the</strong> letters showed a patience and humanity<strong>in</strong> exam<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> cases and giv<strong>in</strong>g a help<strong>in</strong>g hand wheneverpossible, to which <strong>the</strong>re cannot be many parallels.To quote once more <strong>the</strong> words of his friend Venables,'If Wordsworth <strong>was</strong> right <strong>in</strong> def<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> best operationsof a good man's life as consist<strong>in</strong>g ofHis little, nameless, unremembered actsOf k<strong>in</strong>dness and of love,Lord Houghton need not have feared comparison with<strong>the</strong> most pretentious philanthropist'.I make no attempt to do more than enumerate my
Lord Houghton and his Circle 13fa<strong>the</strong>r's writ<strong>in</strong>gs up to <strong>the</strong> last quarter of <strong>the</strong> century,because this is no more a critical than it is a biographicalessay.Between 1834 and 1844 he published five volumes ofpoetry, that entitled Palm Leaves appear<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> lastof <strong>the</strong>se <strong>year</strong>s. I especially note it, because though s<strong>in</strong>glepieces <strong>in</strong> some of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r volumes may appeal morestrongly to a critic of to-day, if <strong>the</strong>re is one, who does notregard all Victorian poetry as trash, yet to my m<strong>in</strong>d, <strong>the</strong>fruit of his travels <strong>in</strong> Egypt and Syria fairly stands <strong>the</strong>test of time, and shows an <strong>in</strong>sight <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> Eastern m<strong>in</strong>dwhich few later writers have atta<strong>in</strong>ed. After this he producedbut little verse, though one or two s<strong>in</strong>gle pieces<strong>in</strong>cluded <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> collected edition issued <strong>in</strong> 1876 ought notto be forgotten. Dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> succeed<strong>in</strong>g <strong>year</strong>s he wrote aseries of articles <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> more important Reviews. Heplunged <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> Tractarian controversy with One TractMore, favourably mentioned <strong>in</strong> Newman's Apologia,followed <strong>in</strong> 1842 by a ra<strong>the</strong>r paradoxical brochure styledPurity of Election, and later by <strong>the</strong> Letter on <strong>the</strong> Events of1848, of which I have already spoken. But he returnedto <strong>the</strong> region of his earlier affections by <strong>the</strong> Life of Keats,published <strong>in</strong> 1848, <strong>the</strong> work which has been his bestremembered book. It has, <strong>in</strong>deed, never been superseded,though it has been supplemented by later discoveries andcomments illustrat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> good taste of some and <strong>the</strong> badtaste of o<strong>the</strong>rs.I have mentioned a series of figures well known <strong>in</strong>politics and letters, but, naturally, some of my fa<strong>the</strong>r'smost <strong>in</strong>timate friends were not of this sort. A lifelongcorrespondent <strong>was</strong> Charles MacCarthy, first known as ayoung <strong>the</strong>ological student at Rome, who abandonedRoman Orders for <strong>the</strong> British Civil Service, and ended asGovernor of Ceylon. Ano<strong>the</strong>r <strong>was</strong> William WatkissLloyd, a scholar of remarkable atta<strong>in</strong>ments <strong>in</strong> Greek
14 The Marquess of Crewearchaeology, and also <strong>in</strong> Shakespearean lore; and a third<strong>was</strong> Sir James Colvile, dist<strong>in</strong>guished as an Indian judge.A somewhat younger friend <strong>was</strong> Henry Bright, a Liverpoolshipowner, one of <strong>the</strong> torchbearers of a traditionperhaps peculiar to this country, of comb<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g, like Praedand Bagehot, bus<strong>in</strong>ess capacity with <strong>the</strong> love of letters.He <strong>was</strong> a close friend of Hawthorne, a regular contributorto <strong>the</strong> A<strong>the</strong>naeum, and <strong>the</strong> author of that delightful littlebook A Year <strong>in</strong> a Lancashire Garden. The mass of lettersthat passed to and from <strong>the</strong>se correspondents tells moreof my fa<strong>the</strong>r's life and personality than anyth<strong>in</strong>g else.His later letters to his family were usually briefer, becausehis absences were not prolonged, and gout began tomake writ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>convenient to him.But it will not do to pass over <strong>the</strong> friendships withwomen, which filled an important place <strong>in</strong> his life—Florence Night<strong>in</strong>gale, whom <strong>in</strong> his younger days he hadhoped to marry, but who <strong>was</strong> reserved for a greaterdest<strong>in</strong>y, and who ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed a close friendship withhim and his wife; <strong>the</strong> successive hostesses of HollandHouse; <strong>the</strong> two Lady Ashburtons; Mrs Norton and hersisters; Lady Westmorland; Lady Palmerston; and, notleast, <strong>the</strong> Miss Berrys, <strong>in</strong> honour of whom he wrote oneof <strong>the</strong> best of his occasional poems. It is safe to say that<strong>the</strong> society <strong>in</strong> which <strong>the</strong>se different lu<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>anes shone <strong>was</strong>that <strong>in</strong> which he found perhaps his keenest enjoyment.Such <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> course of my fa<strong>the</strong>r's life up to <strong>the</strong> age ofsixty, though I have necessarily been guilty of someanticipation of dates. He cont<strong>in</strong>ued to spend most of <strong>the</strong>w<strong>in</strong>ter at his country home at Fryston, where <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> aperpetual flow of guests for long or short visits. It <strong>was</strong><strong>in</strong> some ways a misfortune to him that he had no realtaste for <strong>the</strong> country, or for country pursuits. He rodemost days, whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> Yorkshire or <strong>in</strong> London, but,though his nerve <strong>was</strong> good, he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> no way an
Lord Houghton and his Circle 15accomplished horseman; and a pronounced astigmatismmade him abandon shoot<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> quite early days. He hadno <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> garden<strong>in</strong>g, and, though he farmed on aconsiderable scale until <strong>the</strong> disasters of <strong>the</strong> late 'seventiesmade a farm a ru<strong>in</strong>ous possession, he never took <strong>the</strong>trouble to study agriculture or livestock. In <strong>the</strong> country,as <strong>in</strong> London, his <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>was</strong> centred round humanbe<strong>in</strong>gs, and <strong>the</strong> books written by <strong>the</strong>m, and about <strong>the</strong>m.I hope some people still read Piccadilly—that engag<strong>in</strong>gsatire on life <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, of which <strong>the</strong> earlier scenesare set at Fryston, where Laurence Oliphant, I remember,really did meet a dist<strong>in</strong>guished Colonial Bishop, and anem<strong>in</strong>ent Oriental of <strong>the</strong> highest reputation, of both ofwhom he presents a most comic travesty. Ano<strong>the</strong>r visitorof those days <strong>was</strong> Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, who had been a guest sometime before Atalanta began to make him famous—hisworship of Landor, whose friendship my fa<strong>the</strong>r had longenjoyed, hav<strong>in</strong>g brought <strong>the</strong> two toge<strong>the</strong>r. I rememberhow my sisters and I, as children, were sometimes puzzledand sometimes attracted by <strong>the</strong> young poet, with his halfshy,half-boisterous manners, and his moments of <strong>in</strong>explicableexcitement. I remember, too, <strong>the</strong> figures ofAnthony Trollope; Herbert Spencer (whom I had onceheard Carlyle describe as 'that never-end<strong>in</strong>g ass' whenI went with my fa<strong>the</strong>r to Cheyne Row); Sir WilliamStirl<strong>in</strong>g Maxwell and Julian Fane, two friends to whommy fa<strong>the</strong>r <strong>was</strong> deeply attached; Dean Stanley and LadyAugusta, also close friends of my fa<strong>the</strong>r and mo<strong>the</strong>r; SirFrancis Doyle, regarded almost <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> light of a relation;Fawcett and Forster, <strong>the</strong> latter a frequent guest; andJohn Morley, just com<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to notice as a journalist andwriter.The Franco-Prussian War, with which <strong>the</strong> decadeopened, could not but absorb my fa<strong>the</strong>r's <strong>in</strong>terest. Hehad countless friends <strong>in</strong> France, but, though he had been
16 The Marquess of Crewe<strong>in</strong>timate with <strong>the</strong> Emperor Napoleon III when he <strong>was</strong>an exile <strong>in</strong> England, his sense of public right, which, withall his tendency to make allowance for <strong>the</strong> follies andshortcom<strong>in</strong>gs of mank<strong>in</strong>d, could assert itself firmly whena l<strong>in</strong>e had to be drawn, <strong>was</strong> outraged by <strong>the</strong> coup d'etat,and he had barely seen its author except on officialoccasions <strong>in</strong> Paris. Beyond this, by a ve<strong>in</strong> of sentimentalitywhich ran through his complex character, he <strong>was</strong>attracted to <strong>the</strong> German nature, and to one type ofGerman literature, ra<strong>the</strong>r than to <strong>the</strong> cleaner cut mentalityof France. His sympathies, <strong>the</strong>refore, were drawnto <strong>the</strong> German side, at any rate <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> earlier stages of<strong>the</strong> war, until he <strong>was</strong> moved by <strong>the</strong> privations of Paris,and <strong>the</strong> suffer<strong>in</strong>gs of some of his personal friends.He ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed a fairly regular attendance at <strong>the</strong>House of Lords dur<strong>in</strong>g this period, but had no excitementto match that which befell him just before itopened, when his <strong>in</strong>tervention <strong>in</strong> favour of Essays andReviews brought about <strong>the</strong> famous duel of words betweenLord Westbury and Bishop Wilberforce. All this time he<strong>was</strong> one of <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>cipal champions of <strong>the</strong> measure forpermitt<strong>in</strong>g marriage with a deceased wife's sister, andwhen, <strong>year</strong>s after his death, <strong>the</strong> law <strong>was</strong> changed, hisdevotion to <strong>the</strong> cause <strong>was</strong> not forgotten.As <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>s passed, he found composition less easy,apart from <strong>the</strong> physical difficulty of hold<strong>in</strong>g a pen, anddictation never came naturally to him. More than thirty<strong>year</strong>s before, Carlyle, enthusiastically prais<strong>in</strong>g my fa<strong>the</strong>r'sarticle on Emerson <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Westm<strong>in</strong>ster Review, had added,6 You will write a book one day which we shall all like, <strong>in</strong>prose it shall be, if I may vote. A novel, an emblematicpicture of English society as it is? Done <strong>in</strong> prose with<strong>the</strong> spirit of a poet, what a book were that!' His familyand many of his friends had long expressed a similar wish,feel<strong>in</strong>g that <strong>in</strong> some respects he possessed a better
Lord Houghton and his Circle 17balanced aptitude for depict<strong>in</strong>g social life <strong>in</strong> England thanDisraeli or Bulwer Lytton, than Thackeray or Trollope,however far he might fall beh<strong>in</strong>d any one of <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong>particular gifts as a writer. But this book <strong>was</strong> never tobe written. In 1873 he brought out a volume of biographicalsketches under <strong>the</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>r cumbrous title ofPersonal Monographs. It <strong>was</strong> always hoped that hewould write a volume of autobiographical rem<strong>in</strong>iscences,but he <strong>was</strong> content to reshape, ma<strong>in</strong>ly from articlesappear<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> quarterly Reviews many <strong>year</strong>s before,<strong>the</strong> portraits of some men and women he had known<strong>in</strong>timately, and whose careers he admired. Those whowould still like to hear at first hand someth<strong>in</strong>g of SydneySmith, Landor, and Harriet Lady Ashburton, to mentionbut two or three, might do worse than spend anhour over this volume. The bones of a book which hemight have built up <strong>in</strong>to a fabric which would have beensufficiently solid without be<strong>in</strong>g ponderous, exist <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>fifteen volumes of MS. commonplace books which he left.They extend over a series of <strong>year</strong>s, and are largely composedof extracts from books which attracted him at <strong>the</strong>time of read<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>in</strong>terspersed with anecdotes, with someshort records of conversations, and with a limited numberof personal reflections. Some extracts from <strong>the</strong>se booksare to be found as an appendix to Sir T. Wemyss Reid'sLife of <strong>the</strong>ir author.In 1874 his home <strong>was</strong> broken up by <strong>the</strong> death of mymo<strong>the</strong>r, after twenty-three <strong>year</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> happiest companionship.Until her marriage, which <strong>was</strong> not <strong>in</strong> herfirst youth, her parents hav<strong>in</strong>g been dead for many<strong>year</strong>s, she lived with an aunt, partly <strong>in</strong> London, andpartly at Madeley, <strong>the</strong> Crewe family place <strong>in</strong> Staffordshire.It <strong>was</strong> an old-fashioned br<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g up, chiefly <strong>in</strong>what <strong>was</strong> left of <strong>the</strong> Whig world—of which Crewe Hallhad been one of <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or pivots early <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> century—B 2
18 The Marquess of Crewetoge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> lettered society attached to that coterie.She <strong>was</strong> well read, be<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> particular a devoted studentof Shakespeare, and <strong>the</strong> few liv<strong>in</strong>g people who can rememberher would testify to her personal charm. LeighHunt said of her that her smile <strong>was</strong> like a piece of goodnews, and after <strong>the</strong> marriage Disraeli wrote to her fa<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>-lawan enthusiastic account of his first meet<strong>in</strong>g withher. For a number of her last <strong>year</strong>s she <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> victimof a nervous illness, with which modern science mighthave been able to deal more effectively. Her most devotedhusband, while try<strong>in</strong>g every possible cure at foreignwater<strong>in</strong>g-places, <strong>was</strong> unable to conceive that any remedycould be equal to <strong>the</strong> agreeable society which she adornedwhen she <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> good health, and could not always understandhow much happier she would have been, left withher children, her garden, and her pony carriage, <strong>in</strong>steadof receiv<strong>in</strong>g even <strong>the</strong> most delightful of house parties.When <strong>the</strong> end came, he felt that he had lost not only alov<strong>in</strong>g wife, but <strong>the</strong> most appreciative and comprehend<strong>in</strong>gfriend a man could have.Less than two <strong>year</strong>s later he made an expedition toCanada and <strong>the</strong> United States. He had many friends <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> latter, and his sympathy with <strong>the</strong> Nor<strong>the</strong>rn causeensured a warm welcome from many outside <strong>the</strong> letteredcircle to which most of <strong>the</strong>m belonged. The journeyafforded just <strong>the</strong> tonic which he needed after his troubleat home, and his health, <strong>in</strong> which recurr<strong>in</strong>g attacks ofgout had made almost <strong>the</strong> only breach, stood <strong>the</strong> longjourney well. A <strong>year</strong> later a fire at Fryston, by whicha considerable part of <strong>the</strong> house <strong>was</strong> destroyed, and hisbeloved library received rough usage, though little <strong>was</strong>actually lost, broke ano<strong>the</strong>r l<strong>in</strong>k <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> cha<strong>in</strong> of hisexistence. He <strong>was</strong> able to say that he had ' always likedkeep<strong>in</strong>g open house <strong>in</strong> one sense, and <strong>was</strong> now do<strong>in</strong>g it<strong>in</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r'. But <strong>the</strong> shock <strong>was</strong> severe. Th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g more
Lord Houghton and his Circle 19of <strong>the</strong> future of o<strong>the</strong>rs than of his own present, he set towork at once on rebuild<strong>in</strong>g and improvement. Thus <strong>the</strong>'seventies closed for him. Like o<strong>the</strong>r landowners, he hadsuffered severely from <strong>the</strong> agricultural depression whichmarked <strong>the</strong>ir end. When <strong>the</strong> new decade opened, hischildren soon married, and he spent a great deal of timewith his devoted sister, herself widowed, whose affectionhad meant much to him throughout his life. Two of hisaunts, who had been more like elder sisters to him, andhad always spent some months of <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong> at Fryston,still survived. So that, though much had been takenfrom his home, someth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> still left. Nor did a youngergeneration neglect him. The Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales greatly enjoyedhis company, and he received much hospitality andk<strong>in</strong>dness from Lord and Lady Rosebery. Lord Rosebery'sgifts and tastes were specially congenial to him, andhav<strong>in</strong>g been closely <strong>in</strong>timate with several branches of <strong>the</strong>Rothschilds, he <strong>was</strong> happy to cont<strong>in</strong>ue <strong>the</strong> friendshipwith a daughter of <strong>the</strong> house.But <strong>the</strong> end <strong>was</strong> not very long delayed. In 1882, whenat A<strong>the</strong>ns after a visit to his eldest daughter <strong>in</strong> Egypt,he <strong>was</strong> prostrated_by an attack of ang<strong>in</strong>a pectoris, whichpassed off quickly, but <strong>was</strong> a warn<strong>in</strong>g which could not beignored. He spent most of his time <strong>in</strong> London, whereLady Galway and he kept house toge<strong>the</strong>r, and he <strong>was</strong>able to carry on many of his usual activities, notablyspeak<strong>in</strong>g with much charm at celebrations <strong>in</strong> honour ofColeridge, of Gray, and, last of all, of Wordsworth. Hiscardiac trouble, as sometimes happens, afflicted him witha certa<strong>in</strong> physical restlessness, which made it difficult forhim to rema<strong>in</strong> quietly <strong>in</strong> any one place, and led him toundertake social and o<strong>the</strong>r engagements which madealmost pa<strong>in</strong>ful calls on his strength and yitality. But <strong>the</strong>re<strong>was</strong> no restlessness or uneas<strong>in</strong>ess <strong>in</strong> his m<strong>in</strong>d. One day,when still he had a <strong>year</strong> of life before him, he said, with2-2
20 The Marquess of Crewehis usual smile, to Sir Wemyss Reid, who <strong>was</strong> visit<strong>in</strong>ghim at Fryston, * I am go<strong>in</strong>g over to <strong>the</strong> majority, and,you know, I have always preferred <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>ority'. InMonsieur Henri de Regnier's little book of rem<strong>in</strong>iscencesand reflections he tells of a man-servant who, speak<strong>in</strong>gof his employer's last illness, said: 'Monsieur le Due aattendu la mort, comme sa voiture quand il l'avait commandee'.My fa<strong>the</strong>r, show<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> same placid spirit, hadnot to wait long before <strong>the</strong> carriage <strong>was</strong> announced. Hewent to Vichy with his sister <strong>in</strong> August, 1885, and hav<strong>in</strong>ggone late to his room, after a day of pleasant conversationswith French friends, he sank <strong>in</strong>to a chair, and neverrecovered consciousness.It is not at all easy for those who never knew him, andhave not even read some of his familiar letters, to realise<strong>the</strong> sort of charm which he exercised on a vast number ofpeople of <strong>the</strong> most vary<strong>in</strong>g degrees of culture and knowledge.To quote Venables once more, 'he <strong>was</strong> a fanfaron—not of vices, but of paradoxical fallacies which seldomdeceived himself. Like o<strong>the</strong>r genu<strong>in</strong>e humorists he hadsome mannerisms which irritated and misled strangersand dull observers. Dull humours took his off-handutterances for his real op<strong>in</strong>ions, and resented <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>tellectualvivacity which found it impossible to rest <strong>in</strong>commonplaces and truisms'. His friend Stirl<strong>in</strong>g Maxwellcalled him 'a bird of paradox', and it is impossible todel<strong>in</strong>eate him <strong>in</strong> a few sentences without appear<strong>in</strong>g to beparadoxical. To say that he <strong>was</strong> superficial, with <strong>the</strong> greatmass of his knowledge of many subjects, would be ridiculous,yet, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no subject ofwhich his knowledge could be precisely called profound.He <strong>was</strong> fond of pleasure <strong>in</strong> various forms, and had nocontempt for luxury, but he <strong>was</strong> quite happy to live verysimply for long toge<strong>the</strong>r, if <strong>the</strong>re were compensation tobe got <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> way of <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g travel or <strong>in</strong>tellectual con-
Lord Houghton and his Circle 21verse. He had few personal extravagances, but he nevercould see why anybody should st<strong>in</strong>t himself <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> purchaseof books—short of collect<strong>in</strong>g Caxtons and Groliers—and he would always have thought it foolish not totravel to any part of <strong>the</strong> world that a man might wish tosee. As I have observed, he had no taste whatever forcountry sports of any k<strong>in</strong>d, but he could enjoy a modestgamble, and if he had had a larger command of readymoney, and had not been haunted by <strong>the</strong> memory of hisspendthrift uncle, he might have liked to have an <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong> a rac<strong>in</strong>g-stable. But on one side of his character <strong>the</strong>rewere no contradictions. His tolerance, and his wish tosee people happier, and his hatred for cruelty and harshness,never varied except to grow stronger as <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>swent on. If he had been more methodical and systematiche might have cut a f<strong>in</strong>er figure <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world, and haveoccupied a larger jiiche <strong>in</strong> English history. He couldhardly have enjoyed so many friendships, or have leftbeh<strong>in</strong>d him such a gracious memory.
*•••
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 23Fanu fifty-seven, Charles Lever <strong>was</strong> sixty-five, GeorgeMacdonald <strong>was</strong> forty-seven, Payn <strong>was</strong> forty-one, CharlesReade <strong>was</strong> fifty-seven, ' Mark Ru<strong>the</strong>rford' <strong>was</strong> forty-two,Shorthouse <strong>was</strong> thirty-seven and Anthony Trollope <strong>was</strong>fifty-six.Between <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>s 1872 and 1882 <strong>the</strong>se works of fictionwere published among many o<strong>the</strong>rs: The Com<strong>in</strong>g Race <strong>in</strong>1871, Erewhon <strong>in</strong> 1872, Far from <strong>the</strong> Madd<strong>in</strong>g Crowd <strong>in</strong>1874, The Prime M<strong>in</strong>ister <strong>in</strong> 1876, Travels with a Donkey<strong>in</strong> 1879, Endymion <strong>in</strong> 1880, and John Inglesant <strong>in</strong> 1881.Here <strong>the</strong>n is <strong>the</strong> confusion, both of men and works outof which, if possible, some common pr<strong>in</strong>ciple, direction or<strong>in</strong>spiration has to be found.Now <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> first place it is my firm conviction that <strong>in</strong>study<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> art of any country at any period it is quiteabsurd to look for any clear and un<strong>in</strong>terrupted l<strong>in</strong>e ofprogress. Art does not progress and its history must bealways <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> history of certa<strong>in</strong> artists who haveby <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>spiration of <strong>the</strong>ir genius given an impetus, atwist, a fire to <strong>the</strong> artistic movements of <strong>the</strong>ir day. It is<strong>the</strong> critic's bus<strong>in</strong>ess to discover why <strong>the</strong> work of an artisthas <strong>the</strong> colour, <strong>the</strong> shape, <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence that it has andhe makes his discoveries by his study of <strong>the</strong> work of artitself, <strong>the</strong> personality and circumstances of <strong>the</strong> artist and<strong>the</strong> conditions of his time. These may <strong>in</strong>deed be platitudes,but it is curious and <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g to observe with whatobst<strong>in</strong>ate pert<strong>in</strong>acity <strong>the</strong> critic is forgetful of <strong>the</strong>m.In <strong>the</strong> history of no art is <strong>the</strong>re any progress and mostcerta<strong>in</strong>ly not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong> English novel. Nor, letme add, is <strong>the</strong>re retrogression ci<strong>the</strong>r. When Ulysses looks<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> face of Tristram Shandy does a blush rise on <strong>the</strong>cheek of ei<strong>the</strong>r? Most certa<strong>in</strong>ly not. We cannot doubtbut that Parson Sterne would be deeply <strong>in</strong>trigued by <strong>the</strong>discoveries, and most especially by <strong>the</strong> vocabulary ofMr James Joyce. What would Thackeray have to say to
24 Hugh Walpole<strong>the</strong> author of Orlandol May we not be sure that <strong>the</strong>author of Pendennis would rejoice at <strong>the</strong> moral freedomof this <strong>year</strong> of 1928? he would not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>se days be compelledto tell lies about Pendennis' little laundress eventhough Sir William Joynson Hicks were his <strong>Home</strong>Secretary.On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand we may conceive that Walter Scott,study<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> new books <strong>in</strong> Mr Wilson's handsome bookshop<strong>in</strong> Oxford Street would, <strong>in</strong> spite of his generousm<strong>in</strong>d and noble ability to discover <strong>the</strong> best <strong>in</strong> everybody,wonder where his own genius of narrative and action hadgone to. He would f<strong>in</strong>d, I fear, at this moment, not ones<strong>in</strong>gle worthy example of that enthraHuig aspect of <strong>the</strong>novelist's art.We are <strong>in</strong> fact allowed nei<strong>the</strong>r pessimism nor optimism.If, with Mr Guedalla and Mr Desmond McCarthy, webelieve that <strong>the</strong> art of <strong>the</strong> novel is dy<strong>in</strong>g, it is only becauseour studies of <strong>the</strong> modern novel <strong>in</strong> England have beenlimited to a few altoge<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>different hours, our real<strong>in</strong>terests be<strong>in</strong>g elsewhere. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand <strong>the</strong> torrentof fiction that to-day deafens our ears and frightens ourstability does, I must confess, make it difficult for us tobelieve <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> survival of <strong>the</strong> fittest; at times even <strong>the</strong>most ardent novel reader among us must wish that <strong>the</strong>form had never been <strong>in</strong>vented; it is only <strong>the</strong> novelwriters who are never weary.With our eyes on <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, however, look<strong>in</strong>g aswe must both back and forth, certa<strong>in</strong> facts must benoticed. One is that, up to 1870, <strong>the</strong> English novel <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong> most English th<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> England, ano<strong>the</strong>r that it hadbeen consistently regarded as a happy accident ra<strong>the</strong>rthan an Art, and a third that it had <strong>in</strong> general grown sovirtuous that it kept touch with real life only with greatdifficulty.This Englishness of <strong>the</strong> English novel has not I th<strong>in</strong>k
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 25been sufficiently emphasised by <strong>the</strong> historians of ourliterature. It is an Englishness of background, of form(or ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> lack of form) and above all of a k<strong>in</strong>d ofcreative zest, <strong>in</strong>nocent, gay and physically ra<strong>the</strong>r boisterous.In <strong>the</strong> novels of Field<strong>in</strong>g, Scott, Thackeray, Dickens,we are constantly aware of <strong>the</strong> physical condition of <strong>the</strong>characters, and this physical condition is, even though<strong>the</strong>y are like Quilp or Barnes Newcome morally diseasedwith sickly bodies, robust and healthy and humorous.So unmorbid is <strong>the</strong> world of Field<strong>in</strong>g, Scott and Dickensthat sunlight seems to pierce <strong>in</strong>to every nook and cranny.The very wea<strong>the</strong>r plays a healthy part; <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> novels ofJane Austen for <strong>in</strong>stance so soon as <strong>the</strong> day is unfaireveryone takes to <strong>the</strong> fireside; every page of those delightfulworks glows ei<strong>the</strong>r with sunlight or firelight.But <strong>the</strong> English atmosphere spreads far<strong>the</strong>r. It isolates<strong>the</strong>se novels from <strong>the</strong> rest of <strong>the</strong> world. In Field<strong>in</strong>g'sstories Squire Western's scorn for <strong>the</strong> Hanoverian dynastyseems to cover all <strong>the</strong> scene. English country, Englishstreet scenes, English <strong>in</strong>teriors are <strong>the</strong> only surround<strong>in</strong>gsfor <strong>the</strong>se <strong>in</strong>tensely English characters.The robustness of <strong>the</strong> atmosphere is also felt <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>many physical mishaps that occur to <strong>the</strong> characters.Mr Pickwick's misadventures on <strong>the</strong> ice form a k<strong>in</strong>d ofsymbol of <strong>the</strong> moral jollity of this robust world. Foodand dr<strong>in</strong>k reach a sort of high ecstasy that no o<strong>the</strong>rliterature <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world can quite show. Even <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'Horror School' Mrs Radcliffe and 'Monk' Lewis make<strong>the</strong>ir horrors physical ra<strong>the</strong>r than moral or mental. Lewistries <strong>in</strong>deed to <strong>in</strong>volve his readers <strong>in</strong> a simple sort ofmorbidity but his black characters arc so black and hiswhite so white that no one is taken <strong>in</strong> for a moment.That <strong>the</strong> novel <strong>in</strong> England <strong>was</strong> not considered an Artis ano<strong>the</strong>r of its characteristics before 1870. Richardson<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r-confessor of his readers* Field<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> jolly
26 Hugh Walpolecompanion, Scott <strong>the</strong> fireside story-teller, Thackeray <strong>the</strong>moral teacher, Dickens <strong>the</strong> exuberant improviser. Of<strong>the</strong>m all only Jane Austen can seem to our time <strong>the</strong>deliberate artist and she <strong>was</strong>, it is clear from her wordsabout <strong>the</strong> novel <strong>in</strong> Northanger Abbey, quite unselfconsciouslyso. No one, even Hazlitt, wrote about <strong>the</strong> novelas an Art. It <strong>was</strong> considered a pleasant m<strong>in</strong>or occupationfor self-<strong>in</strong>dulgent persons who had not quite as muchwork as <strong>the</strong>y ought to have.The implications of this simple and natural <strong>in</strong>nocencywere many. In <strong>the</strong> first place <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no necessity forany k<strong>in</strong>d of Form or Shape. Form for many of <strong>the</strong> mid-Victorian novelists <strong>in</strong>deed <strong>was</strong> forbidden by <strong>the</strong>ir mannerof publication. What hope of technical Shape could youhave when your novel appeared <strong>in</strong> shill<strong>in</strong>g numbersmonth by month to be cont<strong>in</strong>ued <strong>in</strong>def<strong>in</strong>itely untilreaders were weary? What Shape could you have when,like Dickens, you were concerned with perhaps <strong>the</strong>creation of four or five masterpieces at <strong>the</strong> same time?This manner of publication led also to a co-operation ofreader and writer which is to-day alas unknown. It istrue that a novelist of to-day may f<strong>in</strong>d his post loadedwith letters <strong>in</strong>form<strong>in</strong>g him that <strong>the</strong> moon has risen at <strong>the</strong>wrong time or that his hero<strong>in</strong>e's baby is eat<strong>in</strong>g bacon sixmonths too early, but this is a co-operation post hoc. Inone of Lady Ritchie's delightful prefaces to her fa<strong>the</strong>r'sworks she describes how a young lady <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> country,weary of Amelia and Dobb<strong>in</strong>, wrote to Thackeray request<strong>in</strong>ghim to omit <strong>the</strong>m for a number or two, and he<strong>was</strong> only too glad to do so, for <strong>was</strong> not <strong>the</strong> young lady<strong>in</strong> a manner writ<strong>in</strong>g his novel with him? I can onlyemphasise <strong>the</strong> sad change from <strong>the</strong>n to now by ask<strong>in</strong>g youto allow your imag<strong>in</strong>ation to picture <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>dignation ofa modern novelist requested by a reader to abandon hislead<strong>in</strong>g idea or alter his favourite grotesqueries! We are
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 27not, I fear, so humble as once we were. This absence ofplan and excited m<strong>in</strong>gl<strong>in</strong>g with eager readers producedbeyond question a f<strong>in</strong>e free ecstasy of creation. When <strong>the</strong>book might go as it pleased with noth<strong>in</strong>g to check it,characters sprang up on every side and carried <strong>the</strong>writer along with <strong>the</strong>m. No wonder we are told thatThackeray and Dickens laughed and cried with <strong>the</strong>ircreations, were grieved for days after <strong>the</strong>y had killed oneof <strong>the</strong>m and attended, festooned with flowers, all <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>evitable marriages. It is <strong>in</strong>deed one of <strong>the</strong> most seriousquestions that we have to ask as we watch <strong>the</strong> change <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> character of <strong>the</strong> English novel, whe<strong>the</strong>r our <strong>in</strong>creasedsophistication has not largely killed our old creativeforce. It is a question that <strong>the</strong> 'seventies is, as a period,a little too early to answer, but <strong>the</strong> portents can be found<strong>the</strong>re cast<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>ir shadows before <strong>the</strong>m.Secondly, <strong>the</strong>re is <strong>the</strong> simplicity of moral psychology.In all <strong>the</strong> Victorian novels until at least George Eliot wehave no k<strong>in</strong>d of difficulty <strong>in</strong> dist<strong>in</strong>guish<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> sheep from<strong>the</strong> goats. If we arc at all <strong>in</strong> doubt <strong>the</strong> illustrations,whe<strong>the</strong>r from Thackeray's own pencil or Cruikshank or'Phiz,' will tell us, and, if after those, <strong>the</strong>re be anyquestion <strong>the</strong> fate of <strong>the</strong> characters is enough for us, <strong>the</strong>Victorian goat, however he may prosper, fall<strong>in</strong>g always<strong>in</strong>to total ru<strong>in</strong>, <strong>the</strong> Victorian sheep, however he maysuffer (and, shades of Paul Dombcy and Little Nell, how hedoes suffer!) always, if death does not <strong>in</strong>tervene, reach<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> secure and eternally happy haven of matrimony.This moral convention of <strong>the</strong> Victorian novel had, oftenenough, serious effects on <strong>the</strong> would-be artist. ForThackeray especially it <strong>was</strong> often disastrous. He knewso much more than he <strong>was</strong> allowed to say and, <strong>in</strong> a k<strong>in</strong>dof violence of self-disgust, hurled cheap moralities at hisaudience and, <strong>in</strong> his heart, scorned <strong>the</strong>m for accept<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong>m.
28 Hugh WalpoleBut it may be that this moral simplicity led also to <strong>the</strong>streng<strong>the</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of creative zest. Unworried by psychologicalsubtleties <strong>the</strong> novelist could fix his eye on <strong>the</strong>swift current of events and could allow his characters, like<strong>the</strong> Czar's subjects before <strong>the</strong> war, every sort of freedomsave <strong>the</strong> political one. We may suppose also that Victorianreaders were not quite so <strong>in</strong>nocent as <strong>the</strong>y seemedand knew a th<strong>in</strong>g or two that <strong>the</strong>ir novelists were allowedonly to whisper <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir ears.Through all this <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> practically no sign of foreign<strong>in</strong>fluence. The French novel might be read furtively butits significance <strong>was</strong> never literary. When we read <strong>the</strong>lives and letters of Thackeray, Dickens, George Eliot,Charlotte Bronte, and Anthony Trollope, we f<strong>in</strong>d that all of<strong>the</strong>m enjoyed fun and freedom on <strong>the</strong> cont<strong>in</strong>ent but neverallowed <strong>the</strong> novel to be contam<strong>in</strong>ated. French backgroundsare often pa<strong>in</strong>ted but French morals alwaysreprehended: Charlotte Bronte can give us <strong>the</strong> life ofBrussels with wonderful vigour, but hers is always anEnglish figure po<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g an almost defiant contrast.I said before that this <strong>in</strong>sular morality <strong>was</strong> lead<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>English novel away from reality, and <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>cipal dramaof its adventures <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies lies precisely <strong>in</strong> this—itsstruggles towards honesty of statement, its fight for anew k<strong>in</strong>d of realism.The men concerned <strong>in</strong> this battle divide <strong>the</strong>mselvesquite clearly <strong>in</strong>to three groups—<strong>the</strong> elders who are tooold to learn new tricks, <strong>the</strong> writers who are still youngenough to be plastic, <strong>the</strong> youngsters whose work is asyet almost unnoticed by <strong>the</strong>ir contemporaries althoughspecially important for ourselves. Of <strong>the</strong> older novelistsCharles Dickens, Disraeli, Wilkie Coll<strong>in</strong>s and AnthonyTrollope stand out <strong>in</strong> a group of <strong>the</strong>ir own. It should notbe <strong>the</strong> purpose of this paper to emphasise <strong>the</strong> charactersof men concern<strong>in</strong>g whom already almost too much has been
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 29written; it is <strong>was</strong>te of time merely to re-establish familiarstandards, but <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence both of Dickens and WilkieColl<strong>in</strong>s on <strong>the</strong> novel of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> particular andpeculiar.Everyone knows how <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence of Coll<strong>in</strong>s forced <strong>the</strong>later Dickens <strong>in</strong>to a sort of plot strait-jacket with whichhe <strong>was</strong> never really familiar or happy. The novel thatshowed most favourably his attempt to squeeze his hordeof characters <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> bottle-neck of a plot <strong>was</strong> verypossibly Bleak House, <strong>the</strong> worst quite certa<strong>in</strong>ly LittleDorrit. Yet it is Little Dorrit that I would choose as <strong>the</strong>true forerunner of <strong>the</strong> new world that <strong>the</strong> novel of <strong>the</strong>'seventies <strong>was</strong> timidly sett<strong>in</strong>g out to explore.Little Dorrit however is not my subject here. I wouldonly remark of it that its queer dusky melodrama <strong>in</strong>volved<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> cobwebs of dark rooms, <strong>the</strong> om<strong>in</strong>ousrumbl<strong>in</strong>g of trembl<strong>in</strong>g walls comb<strong>in</strong>ed with <strong>the</strong> socialisticpropaganda of <strong>the</strong> Marshalsea, <strong>the</strong> humours of Mr F.'sAunt, <strong>the</strong> sentimentalities of Little Dorrit herself andArthur Clenham, and <strong>the</strong> remarkable attempt to come togrips at last with life that is real and not sugarly fictitious,conta<strong>in</strong>s almost all <strong>the</strong> oppos<strong>in</strong>g forces that make <strong>the</strong>English novel of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies so strik<strong>in</strong>gly <strong>the</strong> open<strong>in</strong>gstruggle between unfettered creative zest and sophisticatedself-conscious Art, a struggle not yet f<strong>in</strong>allydecided.And I would remark <strong>in</strong> pass<strong>in</strong>g that <strong>the</strong>se three laternovels of Dickens—Little Dorrit, Our Mutual Friend andGreat Expectations—have not been sufficiently studied <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong>ir strange and almost uncanny relationship to certa<strong>in</strong>aspects of <strong>the</strong> modern novel. There is <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g workhere for a zealous <strong>in</strong>vestigator.If we take <strong>the</strong> elements of Little Dorrit and divide <strong>the</strong>m<strong>in</strong>to Melodrama, Naturalism, Pathos and Humour, wediscover at once <strong>the</strong> classes <strong>in</strong>to which <strong>the</strong> 'seventies novel
30 Hugh Walpolenaturally divides. These are <strong>the</strong> old <strong>in</strong>fluences surviv<strong>in</strong>gfrom <strong>the</strong> earlier simpler creative age of which I havealready spoken. Aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong>m, meet<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m with all <strong>the</strong>bright scornful cocksureness of <strong>the</strong> triumphant young wef<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> poetry, realism and <strong>in</strong>tellectuality of <strong>the</strong> modernnovel. It is <strong>the</strong> open<strong>in</strong>g charges of this battle that gives<strong>the</strong> novel of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies its character and drama.About Wilkie Coll<strong>in</strong>s a word must be said. By 1870 hehad reached that sad decl<strong>in</strong>e <strong>in</strong>to contemporary neglectthat clouded all his later <strong>year</strong>s. It is a sad story not tobe told here: he, <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>timate friend of Dickens and acitizen of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>ner circle of letters, <strong>was</strong> now alreadydeserted and almost forgotten. It is true that two of hisvery best novels appeared dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> early 'seventies,Poor Miss F<strong>in</strong>ch <strong>in</strong> 1872 and The New Magdalen <strong>in</strong> 1873,but <strong>the</strong> decl<strong>in</strong>e after this <strong>was</strong> very swift, and five <strong>year</strong>slater novels like The Two Dest<strong>in</strong>ies and A Shock<strong>in</strong>gStory proved how ru<strong>in</strong>ous to any talent over-productionand scamped work must be.He is, however, <strong>the</strong> best melodramatist of <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesif we allow that Charles Reade <strong>was</strong> someth<strong>in</strong>g more thanthat. Whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>re has ever been a better detectivenovel <strong>in</strong> English than The Moonstone I cannot say. Formy part I believe not. We are at this very momentsuffer<strong>in</strong>g from a flood of detective romances produced Ibelieve ma<strong>in</strong>ly for Cab<strong>in</strong>et M<strong>in</strong>isters and <strong>the</strong> moresuperior literary critics. God forbid that I should throwscorn on <strong>the</strong>m, but I do feel that for <strong>the</strong> most part <strong>the</strong>irauthors might study <strong>the</strong> better work of Wilkie Coll<strong>in</strong>swith advantage; most of <strong>the</strong>m are algebraical problems,clever and adroit on occasion and on occasion notclever and adroit at all. Coll<strong>in</strong>s has Count Fosco, MissF<strong>in</strong>ch and many ano<strong>the</strong>r memorable lady and gentlemanto his credit. 'The Woman <strong>in</strong> White' is a real womanand not a mere numerical clo<strong>the</strong>s peg.
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 31His <strong>in</strong>fluence on <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> quite clear anddef<strong>in</strong>ite. He brought no new th<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> Englishnovel; he ra<strong>the</strong>r perfected a very good old th<strong>in</strong>g. Hemade <strong>the</strong> Plot of so devastat<strong>in</strong>g an importance that all<strong>the</strong> novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies felt compelled to have somesort of deal<strong>in</strong>gs with it—and a number of <strong>the</strong>m dealtwith noth<strong>in</strong>g else.On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand he hampered himself with one of <strong>the</strong>curses of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies' novel, and that <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> quite <strong>in</strong>tolerabledemon of Propaganda, <strong>the</strong> demon that almostthrottled poor Charles Reade, <strong>the</strong> demon who <strong>was</strong>drowned once and for all <strong>in</strong> a butt of <strong>the</strong> selfish amoral<strong>in</strong>difference of <strong>the</strong> early 'n<strong>in</strong>eties. Coll<strong>in</strong>s, whe<strong>the</strong>r it <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong> abuse of private asylums <strong>in</strong> The Woman <strong>in</strong> White, <strong>the</strong>marriage laws of Man and Wife, <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>justice to <strong>the</strong>prostitute <strong>in</strong> The New Magdalen, anti-vivisection <strong>in</strong>Heart and Science, or drunken nurses <strong>in</strong> Basil, could notcheck his most <strong>in</strong>artistic moral <strong>in</strong>dignation. This moral<strong>in</strong>dignation is <strong>the</strong> curse of <strong>the</strong> English novel of <strong>the</strong>'seventies; it is <strong>the</strong> element that makes it hardest for usto be patient with many of <strong>the</strong> liveliest writers of thatperiod.It is <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g to notice, however, that <strong>the</strong> propagandaand <strong>the</strong> melodrama almost <strong>in</strong>variably go hand<strong>in</strong> hand. The pill is disguised with jam, <strong>the</strong> contrasts arepa<strong>in</strong>ted <strong>in</strong> most violent colours, <strong>the</strong> sheep and <strong>the</strong> goatsare separated more fiercely than ei<strong>the</strong>r Thackeray orDickens ever dreamed of divid<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m. In any case<strong>the</strong>re could not be clearer examples than some of <strong>the</strong>senovels of Wilkie Coll<strong>in</strong>s if we wish to see <strong>the</strong> devastat<strong>in</strong>geffect on art that an honest determ<strong>in</strong>ation to do good toyour fellow-mortals can have.Two o<strong>the</strong>r melodramatists should be mentioned <strong>in</strong>pass<strong>in</strong>g, Whyte-Melville and James Payn.Of Whyte-Melville I shall say very little and for two
32 Hugh Walpolevery good reasons. One is that he contributed noth<strong>in</strong>gat all to <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> novel. His stories were,I suppose, sentimental, melodramatic, false <strong>in</strong> dialogue,sugary <strong>in</strong> conclusion and wooden <strong>in</strong> character. I say 'Isuppose' because I have been told all <strong>the</strong>se th<strong>in</strong>gs about<strong>the</strong>m but have not, myself, read <strong>the</strong>m s<strong>in</strong>ce my childhood.And that is my second reason for say<strong>in</strong>g very littleabout <strong>the</strong>m here. Shades of ca<strong>the</strong>dral closes, of read<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong> bed by <strong>the</strong> uncerta<strong>in</strong> light of a tallow candle, of sitt<strong>in</strong>gelbows on knees <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> midst of all <strong>the</strong> discordant babelof <strong>the</strong> Lower School Room while paper darts thickened<strong>the</strong> air and small boys toasted chestnuts over a reluctantfire—<strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> dust and discordance of scenes like <strong>the</strong>secame Sarchedon with his majestic dignity, <strong>the</strong> Queen'sMaries with <strong>the</strong>ir fatal beauty, Royal Charles a prisoner<strong>in</strong> Holmby House, <strong>the</strong> cruel Roman mob turn<strong>in</strong>g thumbsdown as <strong>the</strong> gallant gladiator waits <strong>the</strong>ir judgment—andlast and best of all <strong>the</strong> breezes and English backgroundsof Katerfelto; brazenness <strong>was</strong> I suspect his f<strong>in</strong>est virtue,gusto his grandest card. At least he has given me toomany gallant and romantic hours for me to dare ever todisturb those pages aga<strong>in</strong>.James Payn too! Did I not read Lost Sir Mass<strong>in</strong>gberd<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> high branches of an apple tree and By Proxy on aglorious summer holiday on Talland Sands? I have mycopy of By Proxy yet, and <strong>the</strong>re seems to me to l<strong>in</strong>gerabout its pages a m<strong>in</strong>gled aroma of hot sea sand, blackberryjam and shrimps. These pages also I will not disturb.Never<strong>the</strong>less I have not <strong>the</strong> same romantic delicacyfor Payn that I have for Melville. He did not mean somuch to me <strong>the</strong>n nor I fear does he mean anyth<strong>in</strong>g at allto anybody now. He <strong>was</strong> one of <strong>the</strong> stock novelists of hisday, a gallant, good-humoured, generous figure with noillusions about his talent. He is <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g to me <strong>in</strong> mypresent connection only because re-read<strong>in</strong>g him to-day
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 33he shows how little <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or melodramatist of <strong>the</strong>'seventies had changed <strong>in</strong> eighty <strong>year</strong>s. Might not thispassage from The Clyffards of Clyjfe, one of his betternovels, have issued straight from <strong>the</strong> romantic heart ofMrs Radcliffe? I would add that <strong>the</strong> period of <strong>the</strong> storyis late eighteenth century. Would you have guessed ithad I not told you?Raymond's eyes followed his bro<strong>the</strong>r with genu<strong>in</strong>e sympathyuntil <strong>the</strong> door had closed beh<strong>in</strong>d him.'Poor Rue! Poor Rue!' he murmured. 'God grant that thoumayst not br<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> curse down on th<strong>in</strong>e own head! It is nowonder that such prophecies work out <strong>the</strong>ir own fulfilment, when<strong>the</strong>y have m<strong>in</strong>ds like th<strong>in</strong>e to deal with. I wish with <strong>the</strong>c that thouand I could but change places. Rubbish of that sort might be sho<strong>the</strong>re, I fancy,' strik<strong>in</strong>g his broad chest a sound<strong>in</strong>g blow, 'withoutmuch damage. I am none of your dreamy ones, thank God! It iseleven o'clock. There are one, two, three good hours of fish<strong>in</strong>gbefore me; and <strong>the</strong>n, ah <strong>the</strong>n! for my sweet Mildred!'The dark face lightened as he spoke, and <strong>the</strong> eyes, somewhat toostern for boyhood, softened like <strong>the</strong> black waters of a mounta<strong>in</strong>tarn touched by <strong>the</strong> moon, as he strode gaily from <strong>the</strong> sunkenchamber, and through <strong>the</strong> vaulted passages to <strong>the</strong> hall, whistl<strong>in</strong>ghis merry tune. So bli<strong>the</strong> he shone amid <strong>the</strong> general gloom, itseemed as though <strong>the</strong> haunt<strong>in</strong>g shadows of <strong>the</strong> place fled at hissprightly step, and ga<strong>the</strong>red toge<strong>the</strong>r after him more darkly thanbefore, like clouds beh<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> sun.Is not this exactly Thackeray's parody of Bulwer?But it is at this po<strong>in</strong>t that we encounter two personalitieswho show to what remarkable heights of melodramathose novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies could rise—twofigures who both <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir faults and <strong>the</strong>ir virtues areproducts only of that period; writers of <strong>the</strong>ir k<strong>in</strong>d, of<strong>the</strong>ir naivete, <strong>the</strong>ir force, <strong>the</strong>ir absurdities and <strong>the</strong>ir gustowill, we may safely say, never appear <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world aga<strong>in</strong>.They stand, big symbolic figures of that odd half-realhalf-imag<strong>in</strong>ed Victorian world—<strong>the</strong> close of it—figures at<strong>the</strong> gates about to be shut for ever.When one considers <strong>the</strong> present <strong>in</strong>dustry <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>B 3
34 Hugh Walpolere<strong>in</strong>vestigation of m<strong>in</strong>or and forgotten Victorians it isra<strong>the</strong>r astonish<strong>in</strong>g I th<strong>in</strong>k that <strong>the</strong>se two men have foundnei<strong>the</strong>r critics nor biographers of merit.This paper will be justified should it lead an <strong>in</strong>vestigator—sucha one as Mr Michael Sadleir for example—to a detailed thorough study of <strong>the</strong> work and personalityof ei<strong>the</strong>r.The men of whom I speak are Charles Reade andHenry K<strong>in</strong>gsley.Charles Reade is cry<strong>in</strong>g out for his biography, for hisnovels are both curious and perplex<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir comb<strong>in</strong>ationof quite opposite qualities, and his personality <strong>in</strong> itsodd violences, generosities, impetuosities both provok<strong>in</strong>gand endear<strong>in</strong>g.He <strong>was</strong> a melodramatist of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre and <strong>in</strong> that hefollowed both Dickens and Wilkie Coll<strong>in</strong>s. There <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>him a great deal of that odd mixture of sawdust, variegatedwaistcoats and amateur <strong>the</strong>atricals that belongs toMr Crummies at one end and The Frozen Deep at <strong>the</strong>o<strong>the</strong>r.But it <strong>was</strong> not merely amateur <strong>the</strong>atricals that heldhim; he had a very real traffic with <strong>the</strong> real <strong>the</strong>atre andit <strong>was</strong> unquestionably this real <strong>the</strong>atre—felt at a timewhen <strong>the</strong> English drama <strong>was</strong> at its lowest ebb—that <strong>was</strong>responsible for <strong>the</strong> gravest faults <strong>in</strong> his tempestuousnovels. His fame also has been hampered by <strong>the</strong> excessivepopularity of his most famous novel. Had henever written The Cloister and <strong>the</strong> Hearth <strong>the</strong>re is no doubtbut that Griffith Gaunt, Put Yourself <strong>in</strong> His Place andFoul Play would be awarded a higher critical positionthan <strong>the</strong>y are. In many ways <strong>in</strong>deed Griffith Gaunt is <strong>the</strong>best novel that he ever wrote; it has less of his melodrama—although<strong>the</strong>re is plenty—and more real tragedyhav<strong>in</strong>g its source <strong>in</strong> character ra<strong>the</strong>r than <strong>in</strong> event, thanany of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs. And it is strangely typical of its period.
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 35It is full of <strong>the</strong> old false tricks, false violence, false pathos,false situation. It has that odd air of a city and smok<strong>in</strong>gfootlights that came <strong>in</strong> with ' Monk' Lewis, persisted withLever, Hook, A<strong>in</strong>sworth, Lytton, Dickens, Coll<strong>in</strong>s; it isone of <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>est achievements of Meredith, Hardy andStevenson that <strong>the</strong>y took this very false paste and glitterand changed it <strong>in</strong>to someth<strong>in</strong>g quite different. It isperhaps that transformation that is <strong>the</strong> most <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>gfeature <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> English novel between 1870 and 1885.But Griffith Gaunt has signs of <strong>the</strong> new world as well as<strong>the</strong> old. Gaunt himself atta<strong>in</strong>s, as Reade's figures do, agigantic height, and so hav<strong>in</strong>g created him twice man'ssize Reade is able to apply to him words and phrases thatwould be absurd <strong>in</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r contexts but are normal here <strong>in</strong>this abnormal world.Some of <strong>the</strong> dialogue <strong>in</strong> this novel has an almostElizabethan r<strong>in</strong>g: we are caught back <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> world ofWebster and Cyril Turneur. This fragment of dialogue,for <strong>in</strong>stance:Mrs Gaunt threw her arms round Fa<strong>the</strong>r Francis's neck, andwept upon his shoulder.'Ah!' she sobbed, 'you are <strong>the</strong> only one left that loves me.'She could not understand justice prais<strong>in</strong>g her: it must be love.'Az,' said Griffith, <strong>in</strong> a broken voice, 'she writes like an angel;she looks like an angel. My heart says she is an angel. But myeyes have shown me she is naught. I left her, unable to walk, byher way of it; I came back, and found her on that priest's arm,spr<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g along like a greyhound.' He buried his head <strong>in</strong> his handsand groaned aloud.Francis turned to Mrs Gaunt and said, a little severely: 'Howdo you account for that?''I'll tell you, fa<strong>the</strong>r,' said Kate, 'because you love me. I do notspeak to you sir, for you never loved me.'"I could give <strong>the</strong>e <strong>the</strong> lie,' said Griffith, <strong>in</strong> a trembl<strong>in</strong>g voice,'but 'tis not worth while. Know, sir, that with<strong>in</strong> twenty-fourhours after I caught her with that villa<strong>in</strong>, I lay a-dy<strong>in</strong>g for hersake, and lost my wits; and when I came to, <strong>the</strong>y were a mak<strong>in</strong>gmy shroud <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> very room where I lay. No matter; no matter.I never loved her.'3-2
36 Hugh Walpole'Alas! poor soul,' sighed Kate, 'would I had died ere I brought<strong>the</strong>e to that!' And with that <strong>the</strong>y both began to cry at <strong>the</strong> samemoment.This is not, although it ought to be, fustian. I th<strong>in</strong>k itis saved by a certa<strong>in</strong> almost noble s<strong>in</strong>cerity which Readehas worked <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> fabric of it. There is also <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>psychology of Griffith Gaunt much that is most <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>gand mov<strong>in</strong>g and he is one of <strong>the</strong> best examples ofwhat <strong>the</strong> later Victorian melodramatists can do when<strong>the</strong>y are stirred by some self-experienced human emotion.This is a wild, deeply coloured, securely formed book andthoroughly deserves revival.Henry K<strong>in</strong>gsley is, <strong>in</strong> my op<strong>in</strong>ion, a yet more importantfigure than Reade. It is quite certa<strong>in</strong> that he is mostundeservedly neglected. The space allotted to him <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Dictionary of National Biography as compared with thatgiven to his bro<strong>the</strong>r Charles is scandalous; it is more andmore generally recognised to-day that he is <strong>in</strong> every waya novelist of greater importance than his bro<strong>the</strong>r.His life <strong>was</strong> romantic enough with its swift transitionsfrom Worcester College, Oxford, to <strong>the</strong> Australian goldfields,<strong>the</strong>nce to England, <strong>the</strong>n to <strong>the</strong> Franco-GermanWar where he <strong>was</strong> present at <strong>the</strong> battle of Sedan, <strong>the</strong>nback to England and novel-writ<strong>in</strong>g aga<strong>in</strong>. He <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>author of at least six remarkable and memorable novels—Geoffrey Hamlyn, Ravenshoe, The Hillyars and <strong>the</strong> Burtons,Silcote of Silcotes, Mademoiselle Mathilde and Stretton.He is an especially good example of <strong>the</strong> novelists of <strong>the</strong>fad<strong>in</strong>g Victorian tradition who <strong>was</strong> almost untouched by<strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories and aims of <strong>the</strong> com<strong>in</strong>g modern novel. Heis, <strong>in</strong> a way, <strong>the</strong> most old-fashioned novelist <strong>in</strong> Englishliterature. One might say that he would have been oldfashioned<strong>in</strong> whatever age he wrote, and that very fact,so long held aga<strong>in</strong>st him, is now beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g to be hispr<strong>in</strong>cipal charm. He is a remarkable example of what
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 37zest can do for a novelist. Practically every fault that anovelist can commit Henry K<strong>in</strong>gsley commits. He is <strong>in</strong>consequent,verbose and casual; he is desperately sentimentaland a frantic moralist; he is for ever thrust<strong>in</strong>g hisown op<strong>in</strong>ions and personality before <strong>the</strong> reader; he usesevery possible device of melodrama and every impossibleone; his characters are so black and so white that <strong>the</strong>ybl<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> reader with <strong>the</strong>ir simplicity. He adores nobleheroes with brawny chests, athletic parsons, weep<strong>in</strong>ghero<strong>in</strong>es and, worst of all, earls soaked <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> traditions ofOxford and Cambridge. He is so proud of be<strong>in</strong>g anEnglishman that one blushes for one's patriotism, andhis affection for cold baths deserves all Laurence Oliphant'ssarcasm. He has no technique, no powers of constructionand only a <strong>the</strong>atrical sense of effect. Never<strong>the</strong>less withall this, his best books survive and survive amaz<strong>in</strong>gly.He has nei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> priggishness nor <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>tolerance ofhis bro<strong>the</strong>r and he is far, far stronger <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> creation ofcharacter. It is <strong>in</strong>deed his creation of character thatcarries him through. How or why his characters survivehis emotional exposition of <strong>the</strong>m it is difficult to say, butsurvive <strong>the</strong>y do.His two best novels, Geoffrey Hamlyn and Ravenshoe,exhibit all his faults and all his virtues, but I wouldadvise any reader of <strong>the</strong>m not to stop with those twobooks but to experiment far<strong>the</strong>r. The Hillyars and <strong>the</strong>Burtons and Silcote of Silcotes are becom<strong>in</strong>g, I th<strong>in</strong>k, of<strong>in</strong>creas<strong>in</strong>g value as <strong>the</strong>y provide pictures, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir tumultuouscasual way, of a London and an England that seemalready historically remote.But it is his own <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> his own subject that givesHenry K<strong>in</strong>gsley his power; <strong>in</strong> this he is an object lessonto a number of very clever novelists to-day; aga<strong>in</strong> andaga<strong>in</strong> he makes us ask <strong>the</strong> question which is <strong>the</strong> supremequestion forced upon us by <strong>the</strong> typical 'seventies novel—
38 Hugh Walpolehow is <strong>the</strong> novelist to reconcile his creative zest and hisself-conscious sense of art?It is <strong>the</strong> age-old question to be asked about <strong>the</strong> novel:how to use your bra<strong>in</strong>s without stifl<strong>in</strong>g your heart, howto give your emotions full liberty and yet not make a foolof yourself! Only <strong>the</strong> greatest masters <strong>in</strong> this difficult arthave answered <strong>the</strong> question for us and <strong>the</strong>y have answeredit without th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> rules of <strong>the</strong> game. It is<strong>in</strong>structive to realise that none of <strong>the</strong> great novelists of<strong>the</strong> world have written treatises on <strong>the</strong> novel—<strong>the</strong>y haveo<strong>the</strong>r th<strong>in</strong>gs to do.Henry K<strong>in</strong>gsley makes us ask almost <strong>in</strong> accents ofdespair about our own modern novel—must we alwaysbe compelled to choose between <strong>the</strong> novelist who is allheart and no bra<strong>in</strong>s and <strong>the</strong> novelist who is all bra<strong>in</strong>s andno heart? Happily <strong>the</strong>re are one or two with a mixtureof both and, for my part, it is <strong>the</strong>y who w<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> prizes.It would be untrue to say that Henry K<strong>in</strong>gsley had nobra<strong>in</strong>s; he <strong>was</strong> often brilliant, always eager, alwayscourageous, but he rema<strong>in</strong>s <strong>the</strong> type novelist of <strong>the</strong>'seventies—k<strong>in</strong>dly, melodramatic, no artist but <strong>the</strong>tumultuous creator.The type novelist of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, quiet,domestic side—and <strong>the</strong>se two quite opposite typespractically share <strong>the</strong> 'seventies' normal novel between<strong>the</strong>m—must be divided between <strong>the</strong> persons of WilliamBlack, Besant and Rice, George Macdonald and Blackmore.There are of course many ladies of <strong>the</strong> same schooland a number of o<strong>the</strong>r men—Grant Allen, Just<strong>in</strong>Huntley McCarthy, Rider Haggard <strong>in</strong> his domesticmanner, and even Sheridan de Fanu, an excellent novelistwho <strong>was</strong> both melodramatist and domestic. Uncle Silas,glorious book of my childhood, seemed to me when Ire-read it <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r day to be more domestic than melodrama,which <strong>was</strong> not at all what I had expected to f<strong>in</strong>d it.
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 39Of <strong>the</strong>se domestic novelists I do not propose to say verymuch. Frankly, I am disappo<strong>in</strong>ted. I had hoped, bydelv<strong>in</strong>g among <strong>the</strong>se old novels to discover a number ofmasterpieces unjustly neglected by our generation and tomake <strong>the</strong>se <strong>the</strong> subject of my paper. But <strong>the</strong>y do notexist, <strong>the</strong>se neglected masterpieces. It may be that <strong>the</strong>ywill appear <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> paper concerned with <strong>the</strong> womennovelists of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. The men cannot provide <strong>the</strong>m.In fact if one th<strong>in</strong>g ra<strong>the</strong>r than ano<strong>the</strong>r is clear from astudy of <strong>the</strong> novels of this period it is that <strong>the</strong> averagenovel of to-day is immensely superior to <strong>the</strong> average'seventies' novel. There are no more giants to-day than<strong>the</strong>re were <strong>the</strong>n—although I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong>re are as many—but <strong>the</strong>re is a far larger body of fiction that can be readwithout irritation by <strong>the</strong> sophisticated reader now than<strong>the</strong>n.It is <strong>the</strong> fate of <strong>the</strong> domestic novel of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies thatit is composed of milk and water. Besant when he comb<strong>in</strong>edwith Rice had fun and gaiety. Le Fanu <strong>was</strong> eerie,Macdonald <strong>was</strong> piously Scotch (his fairy stories are quiteano<strong>the</strong>r affair). Black <strong>was</strong> open-air and breezy. But oh!<strong>the</strong> th<strong>in</strong>ness of <strong>the</strong> tale, <strong>the</strong> conventionality of <strong>the</strong>characters, <strong>the</strong> stale moral background of <strong>the</strong> parable!Here is a short extract from McLeod of Dare:McLeod looked tall as he came through <strong>the</strong> small draw<strong>in</strong>groom.When he came out on to <strong>the</strong> balcony, <strong>the</strong> languid air of <strong>the</strong>place seemed to acquire a fresh and brisk vitality: he had a brightsmile and a resonant voice.'i have taken <strong>the</strong> liberty of br<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g you a little present, MissWhite—no, it is a large present—that reached me this morn<strong>in</strong>g,'said he. 'I want you to see one of our Highland salmon. He is asplendid fellow, twenty-six pounds four ounces my landlady says.My Cous<strong>in</strong> Janet sent him to me.''Oh but, Sir Keith, we cannot rob you,' Miss White said, as shestill demurely plied her fork. 'If <strong>the</strong>re is any special virtue <strong>in</strong> aHighland salmon it will be better appreciated by yourself than bythose who don't know.'
40 Hugh Walpole'The fact is,' said he, 'people are so k<strong>in</strong>d to me that I scarcelyever am allowed to d<strong>in</strong>e at my lodg<strong>in</strong>gs; and you know <strong>the</strong> salmonshould be cooked at once.'That gigantic salmon that has passed through <strong>the</strong>hands of <strong>the</strong> landlady and Cous<strong>in</strong> Janet and ' should becooked at once' is <strong>the</strong> hero of most of William Black'snovels.There rema<strong>in</strong>s Anthony Trollope. I will say little ofhim here partly because so much has recently beenwritten about him and partly because I do not th<strong>in</strong>k tha<strong>the</strong> is a typical 'seventies novelist. He published <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>se<strong>year</strong>s some of his very best novels—The Vicar of Bullhamptonand The Prime M<strong>in</strong>ister among o<strong>the</strong>rs. Heshowed also <strong>in</strong> The Way We Live Now and An Eye for anEye and Ayala's Angel a consciousness of <strong>the</strong> new colourand psychology that <strong>was</strong> com<strong>in</strong>g, but <strong>the</strong> real k<strong>in</strong>gdomthat he conquered <strong>was</strong> an earlier one, and, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Barchester'stories at any rate he <strong>was</strong> much more than a'period' novelist.I have tried briefly and I fear very <strong>in</strong>adequately toform some picture of <strong>the</strong> novel <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies as ittypically <strong>was</strong>. Now I should like to turn for a momentto <strong>the</strong> forces on <strong>the</strong> opposite side, <strong>the</strong> forces that were,<strong>in</strong> one fashion or ano<strong>the</strong>r, to effect <strong>the</strong> magic transmutationfrom <strong>the</strong> homely exuberant lusty '<strong>in</strong>nocent' to <strong>the</strong>polished, sh<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g, sophisticated citizen of all <strong>the</strong> worldthat we now know.First <strong>the</strong> satires. There <strong>was</strong> Laurence Oliphant and hisPiccadilly, Butler's Erewhon and a delightful work nowquite forgotten but most worthy of re-issue, <strong>the</strong> gay andferocious G<strong>in</strong>x's Baby.Whe<strong>the</strong>r Laurence Oliphant <strong>was</strong> truly a novelist ornot I do not know; I am sure that I have no ability todef<strong>in</strong>e Piccadilly. It is a book sui generis, and as it hasjust been very handsomely republished it can be <strong>in</strong> every-
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 41body's hands. Oliphant himself <strong>was</strong> an extraord<strong>in</strong>aryfigure and can be ranged with Reade and Henry K<strong>in</strong>gsley,also extraord<strong>in</strong>ary figures, <strong>in</strong> his adventurous audacity,eccentricity and half-baked mysticism. He travelled <strong>the</strong>world over, had a brief sensational career <strong>in</strong> Londonsociety, <strong>was</strong>, like Henry K<strong>in</strong>gsley, a war correspondent<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Franco-Prussian War and <strong>was</strong> utterly subject to acrazy charlatan of an American prophet.His attack on <strong>the</strong> fashionable 'sixties (it could beargued that he killed <strong>the</strong> mid-Victorian society novel) isbrilliant, <strong>in</strong>consequent, crazy and always alive. You seemas you read Piccadilly to sniff <strong>the</strong> air of a pass<strong>in</strong>g phaseof social life. There is corruption, decadence, all <strong>the</strong>elements of transition. Its gaiety is bitter, its satiresavage, <strong>the</strong> spirit beh<strong>in</strong>d it closely allied to madness.Erewhon also is or should be <strong>in</strong> everybody's hands.Samuel Butler is not a typical 'seventies figure nor isErewhon greatly concerned with <strong>the</strong> satiris<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong>fiction of that period. But we feel <strong>in</strong> Erewhon, as <strong>in</strong>ano<strong>the</strong>r way we feel <strong>in</strong> Piccadilly, <strong>the</strong> emphasis of a dy<strong>in</strong>gfashion. It is always certa<strong>in</strong> that if a period is chang<strong>in</strong>gsocially, politically, morally, <strong>the</strong>se changes will be found<strong>in</strong> all <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g art of that period, and so Piccadillyand Erewhon are portents that concern us. G<strong>in</strong>x's Baby,however, is a more direct portent still. Of its author,Mr Jenk<strong>in</strong>s, I fear I know noth<strong>in</strong>g. He is not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Dictionary of National Biography although he oughtto be. His book is <strong>the</strong> story of <strong>the</strong> son of Mr andMrs G<strong>in</strong>x. He <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir thirteenth child, one of triplets,and Mr G<strong>in</strong>x, feel<strong>in</strong>g himself overburdened with family,desired to drown him. The baby is rescued by a nun whotakes him to a Sister's <strong>Home</strong>. The matter is <strong>the</strong>n made apublic quarrel between different religious sects, spreadsto <strong>the</strong> Law, to Parliament and so on. F<strong>in</strong>ally, <strong>the</strong> babygrows up and, badgered on every side by Society, drowns
42 Hugh Walpolehimself <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> river where his fa<strong>the</strong>r once wished toext<strong>in</strong>guish him.The satire is vigorous and at times savage; it is remarkablyalive to-day, not at all out of date and one'sfeel<strong>in</strong>g, as one reads, is that civilisation has progressednot at all—a pessimism unjustified but natural.Here are one or two agreeable little pen-pictures:The Constable's dilemma.Unhappily <strong>the</strong> baby <strong>was</strong> on his beat, and he <strong>was</strong> delivered from<strong>the</strong> temptation of transferr<strong>in</strong>g it to <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r by <strong>the</strong> appearanceof X 101's bull's-eye not far off. What <strong>was</strong> he to do? The station<strong>was</strong> a mile away—<strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>spector would not arrive for an hour—andit would be awkward, if not undignified, to carry on his rounds ashout<strong>in</strong>g baby wrapped <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> largest daily paper. If he left itwhere it <strong>was</strong>, and it perished, he might be charged with murder.He <strong>was</strong> at his wit's end—but hav<strong>in</strong>g got <strong>the</strong>re, he resolved on <strong>the</strong>simplest process, namely to carry it to <strong>the</strong> station. No provision<strong>was</strong> made by <strong>the</strong> regulations of <strong>the</strong> force to protect a beat casuallydeserted even for a proper purpose. Hence, while X 99 <strong>was</strong> absenton his errand of mercy, <strong>the</strong> valuable shop of Messrs Tr<strong>in</strong>kett andBlouse, ecclesiastical tailors, <strong>was</strong> broken <strong>in</strong>to and several stoles,chasubles, altar-clo<strong>the</strong>s and o<strong>the</strong>r decorative tapestries wereappropriated to profane uses.At <strong>the</strong> station <strong>the</strong> baby <strong>was</strong> disposed of accord<strong>in</strong>g to Rule. Dueentry <strong>was</strong> first made <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> night-book by <strong>the</strong> super<strong>in</strong>tendent of all<strong>the</strong> particulars of his discovery. Some cold milk <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n procuredand poured down <strong>the</strong> child's throat. Afterwards, wrapped <strong>in</strong> aconstable's cape, he <strong>was</strong> placed <strong>in</strong> a cell where, when <strong>the</strong> door <strong>was</strong>locked, he could not disturb <strong>the</strong> guardians of <strong>the</strong> force.The same night, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> next cell, an <strong>in</strong>nocent gentleman, seizedwith an apoplexy <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> street but entered on <strong>the</strong> charge-sheet asdrunk and <strong>in</strong>capable, died like a dog.Is not this ra<strong>the</strong>r pert<strong>in</strong>ent to-day?Sir Charles Sterl<strong>in</strong>g resumed his <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> boy. He had beengallantly aid<strong>in</strong>g his party <strong>in</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r questions. There <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> Timbuctooquestion. A miserable desert Chief had shut up a wander<strong>in</strong>gEnglishman, not possessed of wit enough to keep his head out ofdanger. There <strong>was</strong> a general impression that English honour <strong>was</strong>at stake, and <strong>the</strong> previous Fogey Government had ordered anexpedition to cross <strong>the</strong> desert and punish <strong>the</strong> sheikh. You would
Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 43never believe what it cost if you had not seen <strong>the</strong> bill. Ten millionssterl<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> as good as buried <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> desert, when one tenth of itwould have saved a hundred thousand people from starvation athome, and one hundredth part of it would have taken <strong>the</strong> fettersoff <strong>the</strong> hapless prisoner's feet.And does not this conclud<strong>in</strong>g paragraph strike hometo-day?Our hero <strong>was</strong> nearly fifteen <strong>year</strong>s old when he left <strong>the</strong> Club toplunge <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> world. He <strong>was</strong> not long <strong>in</strong> convert<strong>in</strong>g his spoils<strong>in</strong>to money, and a very short time <strong>in</strong> spend<strong>in</strong>g it. Then he had topit his wits aga<strong>in</strong>st starvation, and some of his throws were desperate.Wherever he went <strong>the</strong> world seemed terribly full. If heanswered an advertisement for an errand boy, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> a scorekick<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>ir heels at <strong>the</strong> rendezvous before him. Did he try tolearn a useful trade, thousands of adepts were not only ready tounderbid him, but to knock him on <strong>the</strong> head for an <strong>in</strong>terloper.Even <strong>the</strong> thieves, to whom he gravitated, were jealous of hisaccession, because <strong>the</strong>re were too many competitors already <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong>ir department. Through his career of penury, of honest and dishonestcall<strong>in</strong>gs, of 'scapes and captures, imprisonments and o<strong>the</strong>rpunishments, a <strong>year</strong>'s read<strong>in</strong>g of Metropolitan Police Reportswould furnish <strong>the</strong> exact counterpart.I recommend G<strong>in</strong>x's Baby to some enterpris<strong>in</strong>g publisher.Meanwhile <strong>in</strong> its pages one hears sounded <strong>the</strong>doom of Victorian uplift and moral behaviour. On everyside <strong>the</strong> new forces come sweep<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>. Harry Richmond,Beauchamp's Career, Travels with a Donkey, Far from <strong>the</strong>Madd<strong>in</strong>g Crowd. These, however little it <strong>was</strong> recognisedat <strong>the</strong> time, were <strong>the</strong> books of <strong>the</strong> modern world. Theold novel <strong>was</strong> killed by three destructive forces—<strong>the</strong>sense of Form that came with <strong>the</strong> aid of Mr Vizetelly,Mr George Moore and o<strong>the</strong>rs from France, <strong>the</strong> sense ofReality given to us by Thomas Hardy and GeorgeGiss<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong> New Morality <strong>in</strong>troduced to us by <strong>the</strong> NewWoman.The sense of Form taught us that it mattered whe<strong>the</strong>rour books were well-constructed, whe<strong>the</strong>r our sentenceswere well-balanced, whe<strong>the</strong>r our sequences were
44 Hugh Walpole<strong>in</strong>evitable without be<strong>in</strong>g arranged. That our sense of Formhas not yielded to <strong>the</strong> senses of Philosophy and Poetryis a subject beyond this present article.Our sense of Reality has led possibly too easily to asense of grime. Our noses are too close to <strong>the</strong> ground todayjust as <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies our ch<strong>in</strong>s were too high <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> air.But it is <strong>the</strong> sense of Morality that has yielded <strong>the</strong>greatest changes. In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>the</strong> novelists took itfor granted that once you were married you were happyfor ever after. In <strong>the</strong> 'n<strong>in</strong>eties <strong>the</strong> novelists took it forgranted that once you were married you were done for.In <strong>the</strong> modern novel as none of <strong>the</strong> characters are marriedat all <strong>the</strong> old question scarcely arises.But <strong>the</strong>re are o<strong>the</strong>r questions. We have lost someth<strong>in</strong>g.What? Shades of Charles Reade and HenryK<strong>in</strong>gsley answer us! I see <strong>the</strong>m stand<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>irOlympian shrouds gaz<strong>in</strong>g down upon us. On <strong>the</strong>ir genialcountenances <strong>the</strong>re are shadows of admiration, but alsoimplications of pity.Can it be that <strong>the</strong>y pity us because we are so clever?
••+»••»•••••»*«••+••••••••••v§3 }-^••••••••••••••••••••••••••••^Some Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong>'SeventiesBy WALTER DE LA MAREA S any particular period of time steadily recedes <strong>in</strong>to<strong>the</strong> past, its content <strong>in</strong> human memory suffers a series ofrapid and <strong>in</strong>evitable transmutations. It fades <strong>in</strong> patches,it cont<strong>in</strong>ues but changes colour, lightens <strong>in</strong> one place,darkens <strong>in</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r. It becomes contorted, distorted andshrunken; here, flattered <strong>in</strong> retrospect; <strong>the</strong>re, belittled ordefamed. Though <strong>the</strong> whole of that content, we vaguelysuppose, is still '<strong>the</strong>re', as precisely fitt<strong>in</strong>g its orig<strong>in</strong>alreceptacle as a nut its shell, even of <strong>the</strong> personally experiencedonly fragments are recoverable, and <strong>the</strong>y notas <strong>the</strong>y actually were, but as <strong>the</strong>y now look to be. For<strong>the</strong> rest we must depend upon memorials <strong>in</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t orwrit<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>in</strong> stone or wood or canvas, and attempt totranslate <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong>to someth<strong>in</strong>g resembl<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>al.But many even of <strong>the</strong>se memorials have been <strong>the</strong> outcomeof a close or heedless sift<strong>in</strong>g, selection or condensation,and <strong>the</strong>y cannot but be modified or falsified <strong>in</strong> somedegree by <strong>the</strong> perspective of <strong>the</strong> present, <strong>in</strong> quality,mean<strong>in</strong>g and impressiveness.So with that brief section of time known as <strong>the</strong>'seventies. From our crow's nest of <strong>the</strong> pass<strong>in</strong>g hour wegaze out <strong>in</strong> its direction over <strong>the</strong> sunder<strong>in</strong>g flood <strong>in</strong>search of landfall and sea-mark. It is a period for manyof us (a many rapidly dw<strong>in</strong>dl<strong>in</strong>g to a few), just remoteand just retrievable enough to be s<strong>in</strong>gularly beguil<strong>in</strong>g.
46 Walter de la MareWhat <strong>was</strong> its general appearance? Who and what <strong>was</strong>'go<strong>in</strong>g on'?Dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> last few days of 1869 a thaw had set <strong>in</strong>after a hard frost, and readers of <strong>the</strong> ' agony column' <strong>in</strong>The Times were greeted on New Year's Day with thismessage: 'R—D to B—S. Thanks dearest. Delighted.All right. 6. 8. 10. 11 will suit—not 7, prefer 6. Yourown R':—a cryptic utterance that might at any momentbe addressed by humanity itself to <strong>the</strong> fatal Sisters. Forlarger affairs, Europe <strong>was</strong> on <strong>the</strong> verge of <strong>the</strong> Franco-Prussian War—a fiery Phoenix that of late returned to<strong>the</strong> sole Arabian tree. On <strong>the</strong> 8th of June CharlesDickens, that supreme magician, <strong>the</strong>n fifty-n<strong>in</strong>e, afterwork<strong>in</strong>g all day on The Mystery of Edw<strong>in</strong> Drood diedsuddenly of a stroke. The School Boards were established<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> same <strong>year</strong>, and Thomas Huxley <strong>was</strong> one of <strong>the</strong>orig<strong>in</strong>al members for London. The Bank Holiday Act,Darw<strong>in</strong>'s Descent of Man, Rusk<strong>in</strong>'s Fors Clavigera andGuild of St George and The Adventures of Harry Richmondwere of 1871, The Ordeal of Richard Fever el hav<strong>in</strong>g appearedtwelve <strong>year</strong>s before. In '71 Henry Irv<strong>in</strong>g openedat <strong>the</strong> Lyceum with The Bells; <strong>in</strong> '71 T. W. Robertsondied, <strong>in</strong> '73 Lord Lytton, <strong>in</strong> '75 Charles K<strong>in</strong>gsley, <strong>in</strong> '76Harriet Mart<strong>in</strong>eau. In '74 Whistler exhibited his portraitof Thomas Carlyle. And precisely midway <strong>in</strong> our period'A Young Lady' implored <strong>the</strong> Editor of The Times, <strong>the</strong>great Delane, to lend his aid <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> releas<strong>in</strong>g of ladies fromsegregation when travell<strong>in</strong>g by rail. The doors andw<strong>in</strong>dows, she said, were obst<strong>in</strong>ate. She had hurt herhands and ru<strong>in</strong>ed her gloves <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> attempt to open <strong>the</strong>m.'Men and women', ran her challeng<strong>in</strong>g postscript, 'aremeant to go through life toge<strong>the</strong>r, to separate <strong>the</strong>m is apoor way of gett<strong>in</strong>g over any difficulties <strong>the</strong>re may be.'kThough Girton College had been founded <strong>in</strong> '69 andBedford College followed ten <strong>year</strong>s afterwards, <strong>the</strong>
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 47'Girton Girl' (who 'views with horror a slim ankle anda po<strong>in</strong>ted toe') <strong>was</strong> still an object of derision to Mr Puncheven <strong>in</strong> '86, <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong> of <strong>the</strong> establishment of <strong>the</strong> ' NationalSociety for Women's Suffrage'. Four <strong>year</strong>s afterwardshe began to ogle <strong>the</strong> 'Undomestic Daughter'. In '78England secured 'peace with honour' at <strong>the</strong> Congress ofBerl<strong>in</strong>, Parnell became <strong>the</strong> uncrowned k<strong>in</strong>g of Ireland,and P<strong>in</strong>afore <strong>was</strong> produced. In '79 John Henry Newmanreceived <strong>the</strong> card<strong>in</strong>al's hat. In 1880, a <strong>year</strong> before hisdeath, Benjam<strong>in</strong> Disraeli's last novel, Endymion, <strong>was</strong>published.In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>the</strong> rich and various work of <strong>the</strong> greatEnglish illustrators—how rich and various Mr ForrestReid has lately revealed—began to decl<strong>in</strong>e. And it wouldbe difficult to say how much <strong>in</strong> form and design <strong>the</strong>y owedto <strong>the</strong> happy accident that <strong>the</strong> fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e attire of <strong>the</strong> time<strong>was</strong> a ra<strong>the</strong>r full skirt and a ra<strong>the</strong>r tight bodice withnatural sleeves, and a tendency to shawls. Shallow,brimmed hats, or ovals of fur or velvet, crowned headswith <strong>the</strong> hair bunched out beh<strong>in</strong>d <strong>in</strong> a chignon. Between<strong>the</strong>se and <strong>the</strong> ferocious English sun a little fr<strong>in</strong>ged parasolafforded a pleas<strong>in</strong>g and becom<strong>in</strong>g shade. In <strong>the</strong> follow<strong>in</strong>g<strong>year</strong>s monstrous flounces began to multiply, <strong>the</strong> tra<strong>in</strong> toexpand, <strong>the</strong> 'waist' to contract. Indoors <strong>was</strong> await<strong>in</strong>ga cap (or 'lappets') to ensure respect for <strong>the</strong> matron ofthirty and upwards, who, says Mrs Alexander, might stillbe called charm<strong>in</strong>g even at that advanced age; and whomight <strong>the</strong>n solace herself at <strong>the</strong> pianoforte with suchsentimental ballads, I fancy, as Love's Old Sweet Song orIn <strong>the</strong> Gloam<strong>in</strong>g, 0 my Darl<strong>in</strong>g!About 1880 whiskers, curly or weep<strong>in</strong>g-willow-wise,and, if need be, dyed, were vanish<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong> scene,toge<strong>the</strong>r with that' fantastic velvet vestment', <strong>the</strong> smok<strong>in</strong>gjacket. The cr<strong>in</strong>olette <strong>was</strong> '<strong>in</strong>'. I recall, too, a sort oftongs which were worn dangl<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong> hips to keep
48 Walter de la Mare<strong>the</strong> tra<strong>in</strong> from out of <strong>the</strong> dust. Little 'buses, with a conductorhang<strong>in</strong>g from a strap beh<strong>in</strong>d, or with a hole <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> roof for <strong>the</strong> collection of fares, and with straw <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>terior, roamed <strong>the</strong> streets, which rang merrily with <strong>the</strong>stra<strong>in</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> butcher boy whistl<strong>in</strong>g Tiddy-fol-loll orTommy, make room for your Uncle! A few <strong>year</strong>s later hebegan shrill<strong>in</strong>g We don't want to fight....The bell of <strong>the</strong> horse tram had first t<strong>in</strong>kled <strong>in</strong> London <strong>in</strong>'71; Charles Peace—who preferred <strong>the</strong> solitude of a gig—met his end <strong>in</strong> '79. The lamp-lighter with his little ladderstill went his dusk and daybreak round—even <strong>in</strong> HolywellSt. and Seven Dials; and Valent<strong>in</strong>es, exquisite ando<strong>the</strong>rwise, burdened <strong>the</strong> peak-capped postman's back on<strong>the</strong> 14th of February. Jack-<strong>in</strong>-<strong>the</strong>-Green jigged through<strong>the</strong> streets on May Day, and occasional rov<strong>in</strong>g Frenchmenscared every horse with<strong>in</strong> scent of <strong>the</strong>m with <strong>the</strong>ir danc<strong>in</strong>gbear. Third-class railway passengers after dark took <strong>the</strong>irease on narrow wooden seats under a s<strong>in</strong>gle oil lamp, itsooze softly sw<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g to and fro <strong>in</strong> a glass conta<strong>in</strong>er over<strong>the</strong>ir heads. Smoke as of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fernal regions asphyxiated<strong>the</strong> hardy subterranean adventurer whose route lay fromBishop's Road to Farr<strong>in</strong>gdon St.; <strong>the</strong> merry-go-round of<strong>the</strong> Inner Circle be<strong>in</strong>g not as yet completed.The typewriter, friend of <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ter, <strong>was</strong> of '73; <strong>the</strong>telephone, foe of <strong>the</strong> unready, of '76; and <strong>the</strong> phonograph,a rich bless<strong>in</strong>g though one <strong>the</strong>n <strong>in</strong> disguise, <strong>was</strong>patented by Mr Edison <strong>in</strong> '77. Life <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> process ofbe<strong>in</strong>g mechanised, 'speeded up', made noisy and malodorous—though<strong>in</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r respects deodorised. Yet, <strong>in</strong>spite of a fivepenny <strong>in</strong>come tax, of <strong>the</strong> School Boardsand of <strong>the</strong> bless<strong>in</strong>gs of science, a steady <strong>in</strong>crease <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>mortality from suicide began to show itself even <strong>in</strong> '76.But, as all th<strong>in</strong>gs must, <strong>the</strong> 'seventies came to an end.The penny-farth<strong>in</strong>g bicycle and electric light its chiefnovelties and <strong>the</strong> fall of <strong>the</strong> Tay Bridge its f<strong>in</strong>al disaster,
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 491879 went out with <strong>the</strong> storm ' cones' up <strong>in</strong> most districts,and <strong>in</strong> worsen<strong>in</strong>g wea<strong>the</strong>r.Last, but not least, all persons now between fifty andsixty <strong>year</strong>s of age, who <strong>in</strong> our period helped to raise <strong>the</strong>population of England from twenty-three to twenty-sixmillions, were <strong>the</strong>n engaged <strong>in</strong> be<strong>in</strong>g <strong>born</strong>. Providentiallyfor many of <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong> average number of children <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>families of <strong>the</strong> professional classes <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> United K<strong>in</strong>gdomhad not <strong>the</strong>n sunk to what, I believe, <strong>the</strong> statistician nowshows it to be—a figure <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> neighbourhood of 0-9.It is fortunate for a hazy and fragmentary historianthat this paper is concerned not with life <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world of<strong>the</strong> real and actual dur<strong>in</strong>g this decade, but with its reflex<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> look<strong>in</strong>g-glass of fiction. None <strong>the</strong> less, any attempt,and even one so superficial as this, to recall what those<strong>year</strong>s 'looked like'—and to this end <strong>the</strong> trivial is asevocative as <strong>the</strong> important—may be of service <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>company of that fiction. It vaguely presents <strong>the</strong> scene;it gives <strong>the</strong> reader his bear<strong>in</strong>gs. It may help to precludeprejudice.' Some Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies'—<strong>the</strong> phrasehas <strong>the</strong> cadence of a lullaby, and conjures up <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fancya trim walled garden <strong>in</strong> June, bee and flaunt<strong>in</strong>g butterfly,p<strong>in</strong>ks <strong>in</strong> bloom and tea roses, candytuft and mignonette.A closer view proves this to be a delusive picture.The walled garden leads out to where <strong>the</strong> vegetablesgrow; cherry trees and gooseberry bushes give place to<strong>the</strong> prickl<strong>in</strong>g briar and <strong>the</strong> griev<strong>in</strong>g thorn, cypress andyew. And at length a <strong>was</strong>te appears, no rill of liv<strong>in</strong>gwater musical on <strong>the</strong> ear, b<strong>in</strong>dweed and viper's buglossits few clear flowers, bleached slender bones <strong>the</strong>ir onlycompany <strong>in</strong> its sands. And of all th<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong> this world,what is less easily retrievable than that which oncebrea<strong>the</strong>d <strong>the</strong> breath of life and has now not only passedaway but vanished out of remembrance?B 4
50 Walter de la MareIn space our <strong>the</strong>me is conf<strong>in</strong>ed to <strong>the</strong> British Isles, andthat is fairly simple. It is <strong>in</strong> respect to <strong>the</strong> arbitrarydivision <strong>in</strong> time and still more to <strong>the</strong> division <strong>in</strong> k<strong>in</strong>dimposed by it that difficulties abound. Even <strong>in</strong> historya decade is no more than a convenience, a fold whosehurdles prove extremely defective, and even when factsare <strong>the</strong> only sheep. But authors and books—it is impossibleto segregate objects once so lively as easily asthat. Its date of publication is hardly even a book'sbirthday. That <strong>was</strong> when <strong>in</strong> one of <strong>the</strong> closest privaciesknown to man its first words appeared on paper. The seedof it may have been quicken<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> timeless dreams forhalf a lifetime.Ten <strong>year</strong>s of childhood, too, not only <strong>in</strong> mere appearanceof duration, surpass a hundred of maturity, but have more<strong>in</strong>fluence on <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d and imag<strong>in</strong>ation than any thatfollow. Next <strong>in</strong> virtue of <strong>in</strong>fluence are <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>s of aman's youth. These are <strong>the</strong> well-spr<strong>in</strong>g of his after-life.' By <strong>the</strong>ir fruits ye shall know <strong>the</strong>m', but it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> seasonof blossom<strong>in</strong>g that set those fruits to ripen. It is, too,what goes on <strong>in</strong> ourselves ra<strong>the</strong>r than what goes on <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> outer world that makes our days significant. Its nearand dear, its detested and its little usually affect us muchmore than its far, its multitud<strong>in</strong>ous and its large. We buynewspapers, first to scan, and <strong>the</strong>n to light our fires with.The work of every writer <strong>the</strong>refore varies <strong>in</strong> qualityand mean<strong>in</strong>g and value at different times of his life; itslast state may be worse than its first. But <strong>the</strong> greater heis as an artist, so much <strong>the</strong> more signally, with<strong>in</strong> certa<strong>in</strong>limits, is that work <strong>the</strong> revelation of his own m<strong>in</strong>d andspirit. The creative impulse, <strong>the</strong> visit<strong>in</strong>g spirit, is essential.His external surround<strong>in</strong>gs, to whatever degree <strong>the</strong>y mayaffect him, are by comparison of lesser account. Whatcuriously diverse and <strong>in</strong>dividual reflections of <strong>the</strong>'seventies, for example, are Literature and Dogma, The
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 51Unknown Eros, and Thrift, Character and Duty by <strong>the</strong>author of Self-Help.The civilised world may be pursu<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> even tenor ofits way across <strong>the</strong> flats of tradition while one man whoseprivy thoughts are fated to have <strong>the</strong> effects of an earthquakeon that tradition may be liv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> completeobscurity. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, s<strong>in</strong>ce great novelists occupy<strong>the</strong> world of <strong>the</strong>ir own day, that world must to some extentoccupy <strong>the</strong>m. But <strong>the</strong>y transmute it <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong>ir own terms.And so it comes about that <strong>the</strong> London of Dickens's dayis for most of us chiefly Dickens's London; just as Chauceris largely our fourteenth century, and Malory, who flourishedseventy <strong>year</strong>s after Chaucer died, seems to have beenhis senior by centuries. Even though, too, a f<strong>in</strong>e novelbe markedly <strong>the</strong> product of its own period, it is apt tocont<strong>in</strong>ue to live because it little seems so. Or conversely,a novel that cont<strong>in</strong>ues to live and shed its <strong>in</strong>fluence, to<strong>in</strong>terest, engross and amuse must <strong>in</strong> its own k<strong>in</strong>d have someth<strong>in</strong>gof greatness <strong>in</strong> it. It is no mere parasite of its period.While <strong>the</strong>n any particular decade can be said toillum<strong>in</strong>e <strong>the</strong> annals of literature only with its best andbrightest, it should modestly refra<strong>in</strong> from tak<strong>in</strong>g on thatscore too much unction to its soul. Apart from ThomasHardy himself, to whom and to what do we owe TheDynasts'? To Well<strong>in</strong>gton, Nelson, Napoleon and <strong>the</strong>irsatellites, and to <strong>the</strong> first ten <strong>year</strong>s of <strong>the</strong>ir century, orto <strong>the</strong> first ten <strong>year</strong>s of this? Or to <strong>the</strong> chance that<strong>in</strong>troduced a child of eight to a cupboard conta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g alavishly illustrated copy of The History of <strong>the</strong> Wars'? IsArabia Deserta—<strong>the</strong> author of which, when he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>vitedto contribute to a grace-offer<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> poet ofThe Dynasts on his eightieth birthday, quite <strong>in</strong>nocentlyenquired, 'And who is Thomas Hardy?'—is ArabiaDeserta <strong>the</strong> patchoulied nosegay of artifice we associatehowever unfairly with <strong>the</strong> 'naughty 'n<strong>in</strong>eties'?4-2
52 Walter de la MareNovelists, too, tend probably to write of what <strong>the</strong>ywere familiar with when <strong>the</strong>y were younger. Howeverhospitable <strong>the</strong>y may be to new ways, new ideas, newviews, <strong>the</strong>se are not <strong>the</strong>ir spiritual home. But to sort<strong>the</strong>ir achievements on this basis would be a feat for <strong>the</strong>k<strong>in</strong>dly ants <strong>in</strong> a fairy tale.If, <strong>the</strong>n, any great novel had been written by a womandur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies it would not much concern us now.So far as I can discover none <strong>was</strong>. George Eliot's f<strong>in</strong>estwork had been done <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'sixties, and only Daniel Derondaappeared dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> next ten <strong>year</strong>s. Of o<strong>the</strong>r than great—of sound, gifted, amus<strong>in</strong>g and edify<strong>in</strong>g fiction <strong>the</strong>re<strong>was</strong> an abundant supply. How much of it is read nowadays,I cannot say; probably, little. For each generation<strong>in</strong> turn gracelessly discards <strong>the</strong> fiction of its immediatepredecessor. We beg<strong>in</strong> to read grown-up novels <strong>in</strong> ourlater 'teens, and <strong>the</strong>n read those written for <strong>the</strong> most partby novelists many <strong>year</strong>s our seniors, but hot from <strong>the</strong>press. A novel-reader upwards of forty, <strong>the</strong>n, may bevividly familiar with <strong>the</strong> fiction current when he cameof age, and yet have <strong>the</strong> vaguest acqua<strong>in</strong>tance with thatof his childhood. For this reason any little privateexcursion such a reader may nowadays make <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong>m<strong>in</strong>or fiction of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies will largely be <strong>in</strong>to almostvirg<strong>in</strong> country. A variegated scene will spread itselfaround him, a curious adventure may prove his amplereward. If he is tempted to be condescend<strong>in</strong>g let himrem<strong>in</strong>d himself that current criticism cannot but beaffected to some extent by current taste; that that veerswith <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>d; and that a personal judgment, also, isseldom <strong>in</strong>nocent of prejudice, and may be as temporaryas it is assured.In 1897, for example, a large flat volume appeared entitledWomen Novelists of Queen Victoria's Reign. It <strong>was</strong>written by a number of ladies ' who had been concerned
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 53for some <strong>year</strong>s <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> publication of works of fiction'; andit <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>tended as a loyal tribute to Queen Victoria on <strong>the</strong>celebration of her second Jubilee. It decl<strong>in</strong>ed to ' assess<strong>the</strong> merit' of liv<strong>in</strong>g 'lady fictionists' (apparently preferr<strong>in</strong>gthat toast-and-water phrase to so simple ifsibilant a neologism as novelistesses). Its hospitality <strong>was</strong>o<strong>the</strong>rwise restricted to those women writers who did all<strong>the</strong>ir work after <strong>the</strong> Queen's accession.While, <strong>the</strong>n, such 'famous novelists' as Mrs Gore,Mrs Bray, Mrs Hall and Mrs Marsh were given no niche<strong>in</strong> it, <strong>the</strong> works of Mrs Archer Clive, of Anne Mann<strong>in</strong>g,and of Mrs Stretton were duly appraised, and among itsactual contributors were Mrs MacQuoid and Mrs Parr,whose pen-name <strong>was</strong> 'Holme Lee'. In spite of <strong>the</strong> factthat Queen Victoria's second Jubilee is so recent anevent that all novelists now aged thirty-three were <strong>born</strong>amid <strong>the</strong> rumour of its drums and trampl<strong>in</strong>gs, <strong>in</strong> howmany m<strong>in</strong>ds, I wonder, will <strong>the</strong>se names awake positivelyrous<strong>in</strong>g echoes.'Views' on fiction, we might assume, however, wouldnot at that time differ very much from our own. Never<strong>the</strong>lesswe f<strong>in</strong>d so shrewd and vigorous a critic as MrsOliphant assert<strong>in</strong>g, first, that <strong>in</strong> 1897 homage to <strong>the</strong>Brontes exceeded that accorded to Dickens, Thackerayand George Eliot; next, that Charles Reade and Trollopewere almost forgotten; and last, that <strong>the</strong> ' nobler arts' offiction are all of <strong>the</strong>m miss<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong> Bronte novels.When, however, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> course of her paper she refers toCharlotte as a demure little person, silent and shy,' pla<strong>in</strong>,even ugly—a small woman with a big nose, and no o<strong>the</strong>rnoticeable feature—not even <strong>the</strong> bright eyes of genius',and when f<strong>in</strong>ally she expresses <strong>the</strong> hope that Miss Bronte's'memory will be allowed to rest'; we become consciousof a certa<strong>in</strong> bias. Whe<strong>the</strong>r or not, straws like <strong>the</strong>se shownot only <strong>the</strong> way <strong>the</strong> critical breeze is apt to blow, but
54 Walter de la Marehow <strong>the</strong> wild west w<strong>in</strong>d of popular op<strong>in</strong>ion and capricemay sweep a fiction once alive and beloved <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong>seem<strong>in</strong>gly lost, if not <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> irrecoverable.The distance that <strong>in</strong> fiction lends re-enchantment to<strong>the</strong> view, has <strong>in</strong>deed to be considerable. The once expensivefurniture, glass and ch<strong>in</strong>a of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies hasas yet won only half-way to <strong>the</strong> goal of what <strong>the</strong> AmericanCustoms Officers recognise as <strong>the</strong> ' antique'. First editionsof its women novelists are <strong>in</strong> even worse case. As rankon rank, dw<strong>in</strong>dl<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> perspective, <strong>the</strong>y repose on <strong>the</strong>irmetallic shelves <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> London Library and meet <strong>the</strong>falter<strong>in</strong>g eye of <strong>the</strong> enquirer, <strong>the</strong>y may shed a tranquillis<strong>in</strong>gcalm—but <strong>the</strong>y are unlikely to be collected. Thisis no proof however that <strong>the</strong>y are unworthy of be<strong>in</strong>g recollected.'The demon of Chronology' be<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> our midst, only<strong>the</strong> dryest statistics can suggest <strong>the</strong> actual situation. In<strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong> 1875, <strong>the</strong>n, when ComiN' thro' <strong>the</strong> Rye appearedand Thomas Hardy had recently published A Pair ofBlue Eyes and Far from <strong>the</strong> Madd<strong>in</strong>g Crowd, when Meredith<strong>was</strong> forty-seven and Henry James thirty-two, whenMr Wells, Mr Galsworthy and Mr Bennett were not yet<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir 'teens, <strong>the</strong> follow<strong>in</strong>g novelists were more or lessengrossed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> production of fiction: George Eliot,Mrs Henry Wood, Anne Mann<strong>in</strong>g, Mrs Alexander, MrsOliphant, Rhoda Broughton, Charlotte Yonge, CharlotteTucker, Mrs Lynn L<strong>in</strong>ton, Jean Ingelow, Julia Kavanagh,Amelia Edwards, Mrs Annie Edwardes, Miss Betham-Edwards, Mrs Craik, Mrs Marshall, Mrs Hungerford, MrsRiddell, Elizabeth Charles, Harriet Parr, Hesba Stretton,Mrs Archer Clive, 'Ouida', Mary Elizabeth Braddon,Rosa Carey, Charlotte Dempster, Rosa Kettle, MrsL<strong>in</strong>naeus Banks, Florence Montgomery, Lady AugustaNoel, Mary L<strong>in</strong>skill, Eleanor Poynter, Florence Marryat,Mary Roberts, Mrs Hibbert Ware, Mrs Robert Stuart de
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 55Courcey Laffan, Anne Thackeray, Jessie Fo<strong>the</strong>rgill and'Rita'. Adel<strong>in</strong>e Sergeant <strong>was</strong> as yet busily engaged only<strong>in</strong> sharpen<strong>in</strong>g her quill. Of <strong>the</strong>se novelists n<strong>in</strong>e were aloneresponsible for about 554 publications <strong>in</strong> all, chiefly <strong>in</strong>three volumes. An average of sixty-one each, that is,with a rema<strong>in</strong>der that would suffice <strong>in</strong> mere paper for <strong>the</strong>complete works of Flaubert.Such a catalogue (and one no doubt far from complete),however reviv<strong>in</strong>g or o<strong>the</strong>rwise its <strong>in</strong>cidental effects, hasvery little connection with fiction as an art or even withbooks as literature, and it is no more of a map than is acollection of place names. It is also a confession of failure.For confronted with this vast reservoir I must confessthat I have merely dipped and dipped aga<strong>in</strong>. Its deepsand its shallows seem <strong>in</strong>exhaustible. Dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesalone 'that wicked Ouida' <strong>was</strong> responsible for n<strong>in</strong>e novels,<strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g Puck; Mrs Henry Wood for ten, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>Johnny Ludlow series, and Miss Braddon for sixteen, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>gVixen and Joshua Haggard's Daughter.A hardly less arid and harrow<strong>in</strong>g means of h<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g at<strong>the</strong> situation is to mention a few titles—a title be<strong>in</strong>g atleast as <strong>in</strong>dicative of <strong>the</strong> character of a novel as of a man.A large number of <strong>the</strong> novels of <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth centurywritten by women were called after <strong>the</strong>ir hero<strong>in</strong>es—or<strong>the</strong>ir heroes. It matters little which, s<strong>in</strong>ce both usuallyimply a pursuer and <strong>the</strong> pursued—only a slight jar of <strong>the</strong>kaleidoscope, whatever <strong>the</strong> consequent form and 'pattern'.For <strong>the</strong> rest, Miriam's Marriage, No Sa<strong>in</strong>t, Onlya Woman, Two Little Wooden Shoes, A Rise <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> World,Goodbye, Swee<strong>the</strong>art! Can This be Iove? The Doctor'sDilemma, Half a Million of Money, Wee Wifie, HerDearest Foe, Pearl Powder, Above Suspicion, Ought We toVisit Her? The Beautiful Miss Harr<strong>in</strong>gton, may surrendera glimpse of <strong>the</strong>ir general trend.Compare <strong>the</strong>m with The Dove's Nest, The Light House,
56 Walter de la MareDangerous Ages, Told by an Idiot, Sk<strong>in</strong> Deep, TheTramp<strong>in</strong>g Methodist, Poor Man, Studies <strong>in</strong> Wives,Seducers <strong>in</strong> Ecuador, The Maternity of Harriett Wicken,Why They Married, Tents of Israel, A Pitiful Wife,Secret Bread, Precious Bane, and, say, The Sheikh, anda difference <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>me and aim, if not <strong>in</strong> quality, clearlydiscloses itself.Seriousness whe<strong>the</strong>r it be a condition of <strong>the</strong> spirit or anattitude of <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d is closely ak<strong>in</strong> to s<strong>in</strong>cerity, and <strong>in</strong>some k<strong>in</strong>d or degree, though it may parch bad fiction like<strong>the</strong> sirocco, it is essential to f<strong>in</strong>e fiction, though a novelistmay smile and smile, and yet not be frivolous <strong>in</strong> virtueor <strong>in</strong> villa<strong>in</strong>y. George Eliot <strong>was</strong> so serious as to be byconscious <strong>in</strong>tention didactic, and to declare that hermission <strong>in</strong> life <strong>was</strong> that of ' an aes<strong>the</strong>tic teacher and an<strong>in</strong>terpreter of philosophical ideas'. Yet her fiction survived<strong>the</strong> stra<strong>in</strong>. Seriousness <strong>in</strong>deed (however airilyvariegated), prevailed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or novels of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.It may be <strong>in</strong> part expla<strong>in</strong>ed by <strong>the</strong> fact that women hadbeen compelled to fight for <strong>the</strong> liberty of becom<strong>in</strong>gnovelists at all.'Novel writ<strong>in</strong>g', said Mrs Parr, writ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> 1897, andshe can scarcely have realised that a quarter of a centuryafterwards well over 300 women would be follow<strong>in</strong>g herown dreadful trade,—' Novel writ<strong>in</strong>g has now become anemployment, a profession, distraction, I might almost saya curse.' 'The mania to see <strong>the</strong>ir names <strong>in</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t' hadseized upon her sex. But when <strong>in</strong> 1833, Anne Mann<strong>in</strong>gburst <strong>in</strong>to her fa<strong>the</strong>r's study with <strong>the</strong> announcement thatshe had f<strong>in</strong>ished a tale entitled, Village Belles, 'Papa',said she, 'I don't know what you will say, but I havewritten a story!' ' Ho, ho, ho!' <strong>was</strong> what Mr Mann<strong>in</strong>gsaid. He never<strong>the</strong>less read <strong>the</strong> tale, and afterwards remarked,'My dear, I like your story very much'. But ashe seems never to have referred to it aga<strong>in</strong>, <strong>the</strong> problem
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 57of what actually passed <strong>in</strong> Mr Mann<strong>in</strong>g's m<strong>in</strong>d is leftunsolved.It <strong>was</strong> still someth<strong>in</strong>g of an event <strong>in</strong> literary annals solate as 1846 when, at <strong>the</strong> age of twenty, Mrs Craik fled toLondon from Stoke, 'conscious of a literary vocation'.' Women <strong>in</strong> her day', says Mrs Parr, ' were <strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong>tellectualimprisonment.' Even <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> later 'fifties, and <strong>in</strong> spite of<strong>the</strong> enthusiastic encouragement of John Keble, whenCharlotte Yonge announced to her parents that she <strong>was</strong>about to publish a novel, a family council immediatelyfollowed, and its sanction to so dar<strong>in</strong>g a ' departure from<strong>the</strong> ladylike' <strong>was</strong> granted only on condition that Charlotteshould not herself profit by any f<strong>in</strong>ancial reward thatmight come of it. She agreed; and a large part of her illgottenga<strong>in</strong>s enriched missionary work <strong>in</strong> Melanesia.Not that such little h<strong>in</strong>drances were conf<strong>in</strong>ed to onesex, for even <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies we f<strong>in</strong>d Amelia Edwardsironically enquir<strong>in</strong>g, ' Can a pa<strong>in</strong>ter by any possibility bea gentleman? Might a gentleman without loss of dignity,write poetry, unless <strong>in</strong> Greek or Lat<strong>in</strong>?' By that time,however, women's great challenge had been def<strong>in</strong>itelyissued, though quality <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ranks <strong>was</strong> still more conspicuousthan numbers, and <strong>the</strong> battle <strong>was</strong> not yet to <strong>the</strong>strong.Long before December 1869, for example, <strong>the</strong> t<strong>in</strong>t of<strong>the</strong> bluestock<strong>in</strong>g, it might be supposed, had to be verydark to justify <strong>the</strong> ascription of <strong>the</strong> term. None <strong>the</strong> less<strong>in</strong> 1877 a novel of this title <strong>was</strong> published by Mrs AnnieEdwardes. Clement<strong>in</strong>a Hardcastle, <strong>the</strong> bluestock<strong>in</strong>g herself,had been brought up by her parents with no startl<strong>in</strong>gorig<strong>in</strong>ality. They hoped to see her well married, and wereconv<strong>in</strong>ced that 'under-educated men desire over-educatedwives'. In consequence she writes to her longabsentlover a letter (beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g 'Dear Sir John'), whichis restricted to enquiries relat<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> geology of <strong>the</strong>
58 Walter de la MareChannel Islands. Bluestock<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong> those days, we aretold also, wore a fr<strong>in</strong>ge and spelt humanity with a big H.Clement<strong>in</strong>a's lively appearance does not suggest anyth<strong>in</strong>gvery formidable. She has reddish brown eyes,reddish brown hair with a golden t<strong>in</strong>t 'probably due toAuricomus Fluid at twenty-one shill<strong>in</strong>gs and sixpence abottle', very black lashes and eyebrows, aided it may beby 'antimony and a pencil', and she is wear<strong>in</strong>g for awalk along <strong>the</strong> sea-shore 'a skirt, O, so narrow that itwould take a <strong>year</strong>'s study to learn to walk <strong>in</strong> it at all;a fan-shaped tra<strong>in</strong> carried over one arm', and a Mo<strong>the</strong>rHubbard hat.The New Woman, though, maybe, as yet unlabelled,<strong>was</strong> not unknown. She, too, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> guise of a 'writ<strong>in</strong>gwoman' named Mattie Rivers, appears <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> same novelas ' <strong>the</strong> customary accessory' of a smart yacht<strong>in</strong>g cruise.She is described as 'an emancipated sister of twentyn<strong>in</strong>e,with a cavalier hat worn dist<strong>in</strong>ctly... over one ear,a rakish-look<strong>in</strong>g double eye-glass, a cane... a palpableodour of Havana smoke cl<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g to her gentlemanlyyacht<strong>in</strong>g-jacket, and short-clipped, gentlemanly hair'.But even if <strong>the</strong> Havana smoke <strong>was</strong> of her own mak<strong>in</strong>g,<strong>the</strong> heralds of <strong>the</strong> Keynote Series were <strong>in</strong> Mattie's daystill <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir nurseries, only play<strong>in</strong>g with pen and <strong>in</strong>k, andit <strong>was</strong> not until <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> century that <strong>the</strong> ' sex-problem'—dismallest, surely, of all drab phrases—had become,accord<strong>in</strong>g to Mrs Oliphant, '<strong>the</strong> chief occupation offiction', and that Mrs L<strong>in</strong>ton could refer to 'unveiledpresentations of <strong>the</strong> sexual <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>cts which seem to make<strong>the</strong> world one large lupanar'—a term which I <strong>was</strong> relievedto f<strong>in</strong>d no trace of <strong>in</strong> The {Concise) Oxford Dictionary.However that may be, <strong>the</strong> novels written by women<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies were still for <strong>the</strong> most part ei<strong>the</strong>r lovestories, not very subtle, perhaps, but simple, and notusually sensuous, or passionate; or <strong>the</strong>y were tales like
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 59Bridget, by Miss Betham-Edwards, or Debenham's Vow,or The Mistress of Langdale Hall by Rosa Kettle deal<strong>in</strong>gwith <strong>the</strong> domestic affections, and welcomed by <strong>the</strong> familycircle, phrases nowadays perhaps needlessly tepid <strong>in</strong>effect. If 'I don't th<strong>in</strong>k Papa would m<strong>in</strong>d your be<strong>in</strong>gpoor,' is one extreme of <strong>the</strong> situation; 'I am quite sureMamma wouldn't m<strong>in</strong>d your be<strong>in</strong>g a marquis,' mightwell have been <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r.In The Woo<strong>in</strong>g OH Mrs Alexander tells us that Maggie,her chief character, a young woman (<strong>the</strong> daughter of achemist), whose 'brave little heart' is not less endear<strong>in</strong>gand delightful company than her sound little head, <strong>was</strong>guided <strong>in</strong> a certa<strong>in</strong> crisis by ' <strong>the</strong> fixed underly<strong>in</strong>g fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e<strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ct which has probably kept more women straightthan religion, morality and calculation put toge<strong>the</strong>r, <strong>the</strong>true <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ct that woman " should not unsought be won "'.A brilliant and charm<strong>in</strong>g man of <strong>the</strong> world hav<strong>in</strong>g rescuedhis titled cous<strong>in</strong> from marry<strong>in</strong>g her, has himself won herheart—and she, though she knows it not, his. ' She criedshame upon herself for thus cast<strong>in</strong>g her full heart beforea man who didn't want it....' 'That', Mrs Oliphantagreed, 'is somehow aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ct of primitivehumanity.' So too would most of <strong>the</strong> hero<strong>in</strong>es of ourperiod. Nor did <strong>the</strong> women novelists who created <strong>the</strong>mcast all that <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir full hearts before <strong>the</strong> public. Thepublic had to wait awhile.That public—an o<strong>the</strong>rwise extremely hospitable one—had lately been presented, though only temporarily, withPoems and Ballads, and Rhoda Broughton had not onlyskimmed its pages, but had observed its reflex <strong>in</strong> lifeitself. For Nell's sister Dolly L'Estrange, <strong>in</strong> Cometh upas a Flower (Miss Broughton's first novel, of '68), with her'passionate great velvet orbs', <strong>was</strong>, we are told, '<strong>the</strong> sortof woman upon whom Mr Algernon Sw<strong>in</strong>burne wouldwrite pages of magnificent uncleanness'. She has a
60 Walter de la Marenefarious f<strong>in</strong>ger <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> plot of <strong>the</strong> story—she forges alove-letter; but o<strong>the</strong>rwise occupies little space <strong>in</strong> it; andI cannot recover what Mr Sw<strong>in</strong>burne thought of her.Even Nell, her Tennysonian sister, <strong>was</strong> probably <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>nature of a bomb-shell for mo<strong>the</strong>rs with daughters. It isher own story, and she tells it <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> first person, notalways as <strong>the</strong> purist (<strong>in</strong> grammar) would approve—' every English gentleman or lady likes to have a room to<strong>the</strong>mselves'. And its more dramatic episodes are narrated<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> historic present, a device at times disconcert<strong>in</strong>g:'Great tears are stand<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> his honest tenderagonised eyes—tears that do not disgrace his manhoodmuch, I th<strong>in</strong>k.. .and as he so kisses and clasps me, agreat blackness comes over my eyes, and I swoon away<strong>in</strong> his arms'.Nell's pretty face varies <strong>in</strong> beauty accord<strong>in</strong>g to herfickle moods. At one moment her' curly red' hair falls <strong>in</strong>' splendid ruddy billows' over <strong>the</strong> clasper's shoulder, andat <strong>the</strong> next, <strong>in</strong> her look<strong>in</strong>g-glass, she scrut<strong>in</strong>ises a 'widemouth' <strong>in</strong> 'a potato face'. But even when that 'hugeloose knot of hair' is 'crowned by a sevenpenny halfpennyhat' she always 'looks a lady'; and when sheenters a draw<strong>in</strong>g-room, she is bound to confess, 'severalpeople (men especially) looked at me'. What would be<strong>the</strong> precise equivalent of <strong>the</strong> quoted phrases <strong>in</strong> an 'advanced'novel of 1929?Nell's seriousness, amply encouraged by her creator,takes <strong>the</strong> form of impassioned little discourses on suchexpansive <strong>the</strong>mes as Death, Fate or Eternity. But simplybecause as a novelist Miss Broughton is so witty, highspirited,generous and headlong, however serious she maybe, she is never so sober, never so solid as most of hercontemporaries.If, <strong>in</strong>deed, kisses be <strong>the</strong> food of love, <strong>the</strong>n Cupid is onfam<strong>in</strong>e commons <strong>in</strong> Jessie Fo<strong>the</strong>rgill's Probation. It is a
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 61tale remarkably well told for a girl <strong>in</strong> her twenties, of life<strong>in</strong> Lancashire. The Civil War <strong>in</strong> America has converted<strong>the</strong> plenty of 1860 <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> dearth of 1862. ' K<strong>in</strong>g Cotton'has for <strong>the</strong> moment abdicated his throne. As <strong>in</strong> many of<strong>the</strong> novels of our period, and <strong>in</strong> few of our own, wedd<strong>in</strong>gbells—adouble peal—r<strong>in</strong>g out its last chapter. None <strong>the</strong>less, only two kisses, so far as I can recall, are recorded <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> complete three volumes, and one of <strong>the</strong>m is <strong>the</strong> forlornfarewell of a rejected but still gallant admirer. InCometh up as a Flower, which, like many o<strong>the</strong>r novels ofits day has a sad end<strong>in</strong>g steadily foreseen, <strong>the</strong>y are asmultitud<strong>in</strong>ous as dewdrops at daybreak on a briar rose.But both novels are ' love-stories', and both are representativeof <strong>the</strong>ir time.In general, perhaps, our novelists' hero<strong>in</strong>es are left safeand sound on <strong>the</strong> outskirts of an ' untroubled future suchas women ought to enjoy'—wedded bliss, that is, witha loved one who usually has <strong>in</strong>come enough for comfort;though Leah <strong>in</strong> Mrs Annie Edwardes' caustic, sharp-cutnovel of that title, dies of heart disease half an hour aftera wedd<strong>in</strong>g by which she renounces not only a nefariouspeer but a substantial fortune. But Miss Fo<strong>the</strong>rgill, likeAmelia Edwards, <strong>the</strong> author of Robert Orde's Atonement,would have agreed, I fancy, with Mrs Humphry Ward'ssummary <strong>in</strong> David Grieve that, ' The most disappo<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>gand hopeless marriage nobly <strong>born</strong>e is better worth hav<strong>in</strong>gthan what people call an ideal passion'.Nor <strong>was</strong> beauty <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> hero<strong>in</strong>e of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>in</strong>dispensable.' She <strong>was</strong> one of those women, who are not anyth<strong>in</strong>g,nei<strong>the</strong>r ugly nor beautiful, until one knows <strong>the</strong>m,and <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong>y are lovely for ever.' That is a memorableth<strong>in</strong>g to say of anybody, and remarkably well said.All this is by no means to suggest that <strong>the</strong> fiction whosechief concern is with questions of sex, and whose firstgreen leaf, it seems, <strong>was</strong> raised from a seed that may have
62 Walter de la Mareescaped from Aphra Behn's pocket, but <strong>was</strong> assiduouslywatered by Charlotte Bronte, <strong>was</strong> not already <strong>in</strong> vogue.The <strong>in</strong>tention <strong>was</strong> different. Love, as Miss Storm Jamesonhas recently declared, is an emotion that concerns notonly <strong>the</strong> body, but <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d, spirit and imag<strong>in</strong>ation ofman or woman. This seems to have been <strong>the</strong> view sharedby most women novelists <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, and it gives<strong>the</strong>ir treatment of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>me, balance, proportion anddepth. Women of <strong>the</strong> world <strong>the</strong>y may have been, andwomen (as Rhoda Broughton puts it) 'too thorough...not to enjoy household work', but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir explorationsof <strong>the</strong> House of Life <strong>the</strong>y did not lavish an unconscionablyprotracted scrut<strong>in</strong>y on <strong>the</strong> dra<strong>in</strong>s. Some of <strong>the</strong>mwere a little prudish; a few paddled <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> shock<strong>in</strong>g; butthat as yet <strong>was</strong> not a difficult feat. Nowadays novelistsbent on <strong>the</strong> same adventure and <strong>in</strong> search of low tidecannot but ' weep like anyth<strong>in</strong>g to see Such quantities ofsand'. A day may come when <strong>the</strong> ultimate shore willloom <strong>in</strong>to view and <strong>the</strong> artist be left to work <strong>in</strong> peace.As for <strong>the</strong> 'free' woman <strong>in</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r sense, she <strong>was</strong>ra<strong>the</strong>r frowned upon than o<strong>the</strong>rwise. 'I thought', saysSebastian, one of <strong>the</strong> two heroes of Probation,' I thought that if Miss Mere wea<strong>the</strong>r disapproves so strongly ofmen <strong>in</strong> general, it would annoy her to be mistaken for one of thatodious and <strong>in</strong>ferior sex; and, moreover, would only be a sign ofhow very different she must be from most women.''She is very superior to most women' [replies Helena, her devotee].'If that is what you mean, I concede <strong>the</strong> po<strong>in</strong>t will<strong>in</strong>gly.''Well, if such a superior woman is often mistaken for a man, isnot that a piece of negative evidence of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>feriority of women<strong>in</strong> general?' Sebastian asked politely.Then, as now, I suppose, <strong>the</strong> majority of assiduousnovel-readers were women. None <strong>the</strong> less, note nei<strong>the</strong>rexclamatory nor <strong>in</strong>terrogatory bedecked my library copyof Probation at this remark, and annotators appear tohave been grossly free with <strong>the</strong> pencil <strong>in</strong> those days.
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 63Miss Merewea<strong>the</strong>r f<strong>in</strong>ally marries a clergyman, <strong>the</strong>headmaster of 'a sort of college', and <strong>in</strong> face of thisbetrayal of her ideals, Helena refuses to regard her anylonger as a friend. But by this time, bravely fac<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>grief and distress that have come <strong>in</strong>to her life, she hasrealised what from <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g has been clear to <strong>the</strong>reader—that she is <strong>in</strong> love with Sebastian, while his ownlove for her has conv<strong>in</strong>ced him that 'no man and nowoman pitted each aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r could do any good,but that "<strong>the</strong> twa<strong>in</strong> toge<strong>the</strong>r well might change <strong>the</strong>world"'.Not all strife between <strong>the</strong> sexes <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fiction of <strong>the</strong>'seventies ended as peacefully as this. Though <strong>the</strong> crav<strong>in</strong>gfor a latchkey and similar emblems of emancipation <strong>was</strong>not yet vocal, though ' <strong>the</strong> shriek of <strong>the</strong> Sapphos for love'seldom echoes <strong>in</strong> its courts, and even '<strong>the</strong> long<strong>in</strong>g', <strong>in</strong>Mrs Oliphant's words, apropos of Mr Joseph Taylor andCharlotte Bronte, 'for life and action, and <strong>the</strong> largerpaths and <strong>the</strong> little Joes', is seldom vehemently expressed,<strong>the</strong>re were o<strong>the</strong>r prevalent problems.The monk from <strong>the</strong> monastery <strong>was</strong> still a romanticdanger; <strong>the</strong> deceased wife's sister among <strong>the</strong> forbiddenfruits (<strong>the</strong>re are two such sisters <strong>in</strong> Hannah); and ritualismmight wreck a home. Under Which Lord, by Mrs LynnL<strong>in</strong>ton, is a lengthy and ra<strong>the</strong>r acid discourse on this<strong>the</strong>me. It tells of <strong>the</strong> conflict for parochial ascendancybetween <strong>the</strong> Hon. and Rev. Launcelot Lascelles andRichard Fullerton, for <strong>the</strong> fealty of Richard's wife,Hermione. Richard has for many <strong>year</strong>s of his marriedlife devoted his leisure to <strong>the</strong> study of mythology andprotoplasm. Too much, or too little, science has convertedhim to 'free thought'. Mr Lascelles (hav<strong>in</strong>g himselfchosen <strong>the</strong> guests) boldly denounces him at Hermione'sd<strong>in</strong>ner-party as an a<strong>the</strong>ist and an <strong>in</strong>fidel. AndRichard Fullerton, courageous and urbane opponent
64 Walter de la Marethough he may be, is <strong>in</strong> a position which he realises toolate is hideously weak. For ow<strong>in</strong>g to his fa<strong>the</strong>r-<strong>in</strong>-law'ssagacity <strong>in</strong> ty<strong>in</strong>g up Hermione's money, her worldlygoods were only on sufferance his. For this reason,perhaps, he addresses her as 'My wife', or 'My Ladyhood'.When he wished to amuse her <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> even<strong>in</strong>gs,' he told her some facts of natural history'. Robbed atlength of his daughter, of his <strong>in</strong>fluence, of his agnosticwork<strong>in</strong>g-men, and even his bank account, he bows hishead and retires.His enemy, Mr Lascelles, is a sort of hieratic volcano,gaunt, frigid, capped with snow, yet menac<strong>in</strong>gly eloquentof <strong>the</strong> suppressed and awful fires with<strong>in</strong>. One of his flock,after an hysterical outburst at a harvest festival, diesof his dark <strong>in</strong>fluence. He secures most of Hermione'smoney, though she herself returns and is reconciled atlast to poor Richard on his death-bed.The effect of <strong>the</strong> story is oddly and garishly unreal; abright hard <strong>the</strong>atrical daylight dwells on <strong>the</strong> scene; andboth men are little more than waxworks. Yet its author'sviolent prejudices, though apparent, are <strong>in</strong>geniouslyscreened. Quite apart from Mr Lascelles, she is no friendof man, as such; nor, be<strong>in</strong>g one herself, of strongm<strong>in</strong>dedwomen nei<strong>the</strong>r. The cleverest woman <strong>in</strong> her storyis easily a match, <strong>in</strong> both senses, for <strong>the</strong> vicar, but evenshe has '<strong>the</strong> curiosity of her sex'—<strong>in</strong> relation to octogeneticevolution. 'Men', we are told, 'never know anyth<strong>in</strong>gof what goes on about <strong>the</strong>m. It is only women whof<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> truth.' 'As if, aga<strong>in</strong>, '<strong>the</strong> cleverest man <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>world is not as helpless as a babe, when <strong>the</strong> right k<strong>in</strong>d ofwoman, who knows how he ought to be managed, takeshim <strong>in</strong> hand.'A fa<strong>in</strong>t hope of refuge from this sad extremity spr<strong>in</strong>gsup with Mr Lascelles' tragic suggestion: '"So fewwomen understand <strong>the</strong> deeper thoughts of men. Some
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 65supplement us, but it is given to very few to reallyunderstand us." "I know that", murmurs Hermione,"be<strong>in</strong>g one of <strong>the</strong> few."' But, alas, this is merely <strong>the</strong>old fable of <strong>the</strong> fox and <strong>the</strong> goose.That Mrs L<strong>in</strong>ton <strong>was</strong> not only serious but <strong>in</strong>tensely <strong>in</strong>earnest The True History of Joshua Davidson, ChristianCommunist, is overwhelm<strong>in</strong>g proof. What is moreastonish<strong>in</strong>g nowadays, perhaps, this book had an immensepopular success. In spite of its <strong>in</strong>tention, it is nota w<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g tale, nor is Under Which Lord. Mrs L<strong>in</strong>ton'smost impressive female characters comb<strong>in</strong>e <strong>the</strong> chill of<strong>the</strong> crocodile with <strong>the</strong> austerity of <strong>the</strong> priestess and <strong>the</strong>cunn<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> fox. They suggest a sort of neuter sex,be<strong>in</strong>g at <strong>the</strong> same .time queens of <strong>the</strong> hive and parishworkers. Her <strong>in</strong>tention is ardent, but her <strong>in</strong>k is cold, andat times corrosive, and her attitude towards man isshared by a lady <strong>in</strong> Mrs Oliphant's The Three Bro<strong>the</strong>rs.She ' <strong>was</strong> endowed with that contempt for <strong>the</strong> mascul<strong>in</strong>eunderstand<strong>in</strong>g that most women enterta<strong>in</strong>'.Such, so it seems, <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> general reflex of life <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e fiction of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. And this reflex concernsof course its k<strong>in</strong>d, not its quality. When womanrules, her rod, <strong>the</strong>re as everywhere, is adamant<strong>in</strong>e. Whenshe shares <strong>the</strong> throne, and takes her Queen for her model,or meekly submits to an autocrat, a little fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e tactor manageableness, or <strong>the</strong> love that f<strong>in</strong>ds out a way, ordownright guile, or Lilith-like seducements, come to heraid. A few tears are still a resource, and not to one sexonly; a good cry is still an anodyne and a tonic, though<strong>the</strong> swoon and <strong>the</strong> vapours are go<strong>in</strong>g out. The womennovelists <strong>the</strong>mselves, if judged by <strong>the</strong>ir work, do notseem to have been made desperately unhappy because <strong>in</strong>Eden Adam needed a help meet for him. To read <strong>the</strong>irfiction is to be refreshed by <strong>the</strong> courage, <strong>the</strong> fidelity, <strong>the</strong>wits, <strong>the</strong> lov<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>sight, and above all <strong>the</strong> sovran good5
66 Walter de la Maresense of <strong>the</strong> women depicted <strong>in</strong> it. Sill<strong>in</strong>ess, gush, sentimentality;<strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>x, <strong>the</strong> cat, <strong>the</strong> scold, <strong>the</strong> harpy, <strong>the</strong>gosl<strong>in</strong>g; <strong>the</strong> complete Grundy family may add <strong>the</strong>ir tang,but it takes all k<strong>in</strong>ds of fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>ity to make <strong>the</strong> worldas it is, and even a fa<strong>in</strong>tly realistic fiction.Yet, for <strong>the</strong> most part <strong>the</strong>se novels seem soon to havefaded out of remembrance. In 1904 Mr W. L. Courtneypublished his Fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e Note <strong>in</strong> Fiction, a critical surveyof eight women novelists of his day, John Oliver Hobbes,Mrs Humphry Ward, Lucas Malet, Gertrude A<strong>the</strong>rton,Mrs Woods, Mrs Voynich, Miss Rob<strong>in</strong>s, and Miss MaryWilk<strong>in</strong>s. The abhorred shears had been busy, and <strong>the</strong>w<strong>in</strong>d had changed s<strong>in</strong>ce 1879. Of <strong>the</strong> twenty-threewriters who wrote or were written about <strong>in</strong> WomenNovelists of Queen Victoria's Reign his <strong>in</strong>dex mentionsonly four.In his <strong>in</strong>troduction he ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>s that fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e fiction<strong>in</strong> general suffers from a passion for detail. It is 'closeanalytic, m<strong>in</strong>iature work', usually limited to a narrowpersonal experience, with a tendency to <strong>the</strong> self-consciousand a limitation of ideals. ' Would it be wrong to say thata woman's hero<strong>in</strong>e is always a glorified version of herself?' Her fiction is too strenuous, worn out with zeal,<strong>the</strong> labour of <strong>the</strong> half-educated. A woman is that k<strong>in</strong>dof human be<strong>in</strong>g, he quotes, 'who th<strong>in</strong>ks with her backboneand feels with her nose'. Her historical evolutionmay be summarised <strong>in</strong> a qu<strong>in</strong>tet of terms, three ofwhich are derogatory, ' slave, hausfrau, madonna, witch,rival'.This is a wi<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>g summary, though it is honey ofHymettus compared with <strong>the</strong> views of Mrs Oliphant on<strong>the</strong> Brontes. Mr Courtney's tests of <strong>the</strong> fiction of <strong>the</strong>'n<strong>in</strong>eties were severe; <strong>the</strong> great, and for <strong>the</strong> most part,<strong>the</strong> man-made novel <strong>was</strong> his standard. We may if weplease submit <strong>the</strong> fiction of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies to similar tests.
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 67Does it, <strong>in</strong> Mrs Oliphant's own words, concern<strong>in</strong>g its'nobler arts', exhibit a masterly comb<strong>in</strong>ation, construction,a humorous survey of life and a deep apprehensionof its problems? Is it of imag<strong>in</strong>ation all compact, thatimag<strong>in</strong>ation which, as Jean Ingelow said, is ' <strong>the</strong> crown ofall thoughts and powers', though 'you cannot wear acrown becom<strong>in</strong>gly if you have no head (worth mention<strong>in</strong>g)to put it on'? Is it <strong>the</strong> creative outcome of a centraland comprehensive experience of life, and rich and vividand truthful <strong>in</strong> characterisation? What ardour of m<strong>in</strong>dwent to its mak<strong>in</strong>g, and what passion of heart? Whatk<strong>in</strong>d and quality of philosophy underlies it? Are <strong>the</strong>senovels puppet work, but exquisite, a variegated patchworkof cleverness, a relief to ' f<strong>in</strong>e' and exclusive feel<strong>in</strong>gs,a rous<strong>in</strong>g challenge or a deadly malediction? And last—<strong>the</strong> question that covers most ground—are <strong>the</strong>y works ofart?A little quiet read<strong>in</strong>g makes many of <strong>the</strong>se questionslook ra<strong>the</strong>r too solemn and superior. Few novels writtenby anybody will survive so exact<strong>in</strong>g a catechism. Highstandards are essential; but what wilts beneath <strong>the</strong>ir testmay still have a virtue and value of its own. And we canbe grateful even for small mercies. In general <strong>the</strong> novelsthat enjoy a brief but vigorous heyday—<strong>the</strong> idolatry of<strong>the</strong> few, or <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>toxication of <strong>the</strong> many—so succeedsimply because <strong>the</strong>y deal with current <strong>the</strong>mes and <strong>the</strong>ses,or are a lively and enterta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g peepshow of <strong>the</strong>ir pass<strong>in</strong>gday's fads, fashions, fantasies and fatuities. Hav<strong>in</strong>gserved <strong>the</strong>ir purpose ill or well, <strong>the</strong>y perish, or, ra<strong>the</strong>r,escape from view. And man has had as active a hand <strong>in</strong>this manufacture as woman. May to-morrow's brilliantmasterpiece <strong>the</strong>n be as modest as it can!The role of <strong>the</strong> rival however, <strong>in</strong> literature as <strong>in</strong> life, isa restless and <strong>in</strong>vidious one, and <strong>the</strong> mere steady approximationof <strong>the</strong> work of ei<strong>the</strong>r sex to that of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r would5-2
68 Walter de la Marebe cumulatively distress<strong>in</strong>g. As that astonish<strong>in</strong>g andprecocious young man, Otto We<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>ger, ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed, <strong>the</strong>sexes may be not simple but compounded, not two butmany. If any particular human be<strong>in</strong>g, that is, may besaid to consist of ten-tenths, some of <strong>the</strong> tenths may bemascul<strong>in</strong>e and some fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e, though it may be difficult<strong>in</strong> any particular case to fix <strong>the</strong> precise proportion. Theman of genius is said to be compounded of himself, awoman and a child. It is <strong>the</strong> colourless medium thatwould be most deplorable. What <strong>was</strong> Emily Bronte orChrist<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti or Queen Elizabeth compounded of?Chromosomes apart, we all have as many granddams asgrandsires <strong>in</strong> our heredity. An Orlando may not be unknownto life, though he is at present unique <strong>in</strong> fiction.None <strong>the</strong> less, 'man and woman created He <strong>the</strong>m'.And a burn<strong>in</strong>g and secret hope may be forgiven thatwoman will discover <strong>in</strong> herself some <strong>in</strong>ward faculty orpower unpossessed by man, and one of which we as yetknow little. Reality covers a large area. There may becomplete prov<strong>in</strong>ces of it await<strong>in</strong>g her exploration—truth,beauty, ' mean<strong>in</strong>g'; as yet but fa<strong>in</strong>tly dreamed of.There is little <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fiction of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, one musthasten to add, to suggest this. Still, it nourishes <strong>the</strong> fondbelief that woman as woman, and apart from o<strong>the</strong>r sovrangraces, is gifted with her own f<strong>in</strong>e faculty of div<strong>in</strong>ation;that she can flit like a fire-fly from A to F-F-F-FOOL—asWhistler once reiterated—without bo<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>g about B, C,D and E; that her common-sense, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> old mean<strong>in</strong>g of<strong>the</strong> word, is peculiarly her own. It suggests, too, that shetends to be a practical idealist. For of all <strong>the</strong> div<strong>in</strong>itiesmade <strong>in</strong> man's or woman's image, none that I am awareof has been solely of fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e workmanship. An assertiona little less sweep<strong>in</strong>g might be made <strong>in</strong> respect of domestic<strong>in</strong>ventions, those labour-sav<strong>in</strong>g devices which are sometimes<strong>the</strong> joy but usually <strong>the</strong> secret scorn of <strong>the</strong> modern
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 69housewife. In this fiction, at any rate, ardour for science,pure or applied, is as little manifest as <strong>the</strong> transcendental.If The Time Mach<strong>in</strong>e had been written <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesits author would still, I th<strong>in</strong>k, have been a man. So alsowith The Return of <strong>the</strong> Native. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, nei<strong>the</strong>rThomas Hardy nor Mr Wells <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> author of JaneAusten's novels or of Villette.Voteless, 'unskilled', man-dependent though <strong>the</strong> womenof <strong>the</strong> 'seventies were, <strong>the</strong>re is surpris<strong>in</strong>gly little ofLamentations and of Ecclesiastes <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir fiction. Its liveliest<strong>in</strong>terest is <strong>in</strong> human be<strong>in</strong>gs as social creatures ra<strong>the</strong>rthan as pilgrims of eternity. Revolt <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> air—if avery partial and unmethodical survey be a safe guide—but extraneous 'purpose' seems to have been rare, andstill more rare, challenge and battle-cry. For <strong>the</strong> mostpart <strong>the</strong>se novelists were eager, absorbed, diligent recorders.They were assured of what <strong>the</strong>y believed <strong>in</strong>. Theywere happy <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> company of <strong>the</strong>ir characters and delighted<strong>in</strong> merely tell<strong>in</strong>g a story, though even that simpleand seductive achievement cannot but <strong>in</strong>volve a gooddeal of ' life' <strong>in</strong> solution.The ghost drifts or shambles <strong>in</strong>; <strong>the</strong> psychic <strong>in</strong>trudes.But <strong>the</strong> effect of <strong>the</strong> spectral <strong>in</strong> Rhoda Broughton'sTwilight Stories is a little deadened by <strong>the</strong> terse postscript,'This is a fact'. Mrs Oliphant's solemn andmemorable A Beleaguered City <strong>was</strong> of 1880. But nowhereapparent <strong>in</strong> this fiction is man's peculiar <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>ationto regard an <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ite (or f<strong>in</strong>ite) universe as though itwere a concatenation of miracles, or an over-populatedmousetrap, or an ' unweet<strong>in</strong>g' mach<strong>in</strong>e, or an excruciat<strong>in</strong>gjest. One becomes conscious of a vague difference <strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong>tention,<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> views given of life, and <strong>in</strong> what one mostwants <strong>in</strong> it. There is more wit and irony than humour.Fantasy f<strong>in</strong>ds small place <strong>in</strong> it, and <strong>the</strong>re is noth<strong>in</strong>g—unless un<strong>in</strong>tentionally—grotesque. The smart, <strong>the</strong> self-
70 Walter de la Mareconscious, <strong>the</strong> too clever is uncommon, and where it isfound it is, like old rubber, desperately perished <strong>in</strong>appearance and effect. Even <strong>the</strong> sentimental seems tooutlast <strong>the</strong> meretricious; and <strong>the</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>r commonplacelove story, quietly and serenely narrated, or even <strong>the</strong>mildest record of <strong>the</strong> domesticated may keep enough ofits <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>gness to make it still readable by <strong>the</strong> not toofastidious.In matter many of <strong>the</strong>se novels are s<strong>in</strong>gularly substantial;<strong>in</strong> style, sound, workmanlike, practised, and alittle formal. If anyth<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong>ir authors appear to be alittle over ra<strong>the</strong>r than under-educated; or, ra<strong>the</strong>r, toowell-<strong>in</strong>formed. For <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>e novelist is <strong>in</strong> most (that heneeds most) self-schooled, self-taught. As a child withhis hornbook, Nature stood him, not always very k<strong>in</strong>dly,at her knee; for <strong>the</strong> rest he went, m<strong>in</strong>d and heart, to <strong>the</strong>world at large. Its gallery is enormous and open to all.Knowledge, however valuable it may be, may proveimag<strong>in</strong>atively <strong>in</strong>digestible.Of <strong>the</strong> men characters <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>the</strong> paterfamiliasand his generation are usually natural andvigorous enough. The romantic hero, <strong>the</strong> Lothario, <strong>the</strong>daredevil, <strong>the</strong> man of fashion or about town, <strong>the</strong> Bohemian,is apt to be less so. These novelists are seldomcompletely at home <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir younger men. They aremak<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m up; <strong>the</strong> creative breath is fa<strong>in</strong>t that shouldfree <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong>to life. Even a hero, who is 'good, rich,handsome, clever, and k<strong>in</strong>d'—and nowadays <strong>the</strong>se epi<strong>the</strong>tswould appear <strong>in</strong> a different order—may rema<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong>adequatelyvitalised. We watch him, but rema<strong>in</strong> uneasyand <strong>in</strong>completely transformed. It must be remembered,however, that fiction consists solely of words, more or lessevocatory, and that it rests <strong>in</strong> great part with <strong>the</strong> readerto decide on <strong>the</strong> more and <strong>the</strong> less.There may be artificial h<strong>in</strong>drances. Richard Harold
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 71M'Gregor, for example—with his dark grey eyes and greatyellow or 'heavy tawny' moustache, his head of curlyyellow hair, a sabre cut on his cheek, a meerschaum pipebetween his lips, his severe Greek beauty gilded by vespert<strong>in</strong>alcarriage lamps, or starlit as he sits with his swee<strong>the</strong>art,' each on <strong>the</strong>ir several tombstone'— is it crediblethat if this ravish<strong>in</strong>g young man were yet alive he wouldstill be only <strong>in</strong> his early 'eighties? O<strong>the</strong>rs of his contemporariestoo, with <strong>the</strong>ir arch or sprightly or solemn conversation,<strong>the</strong>ir elegance, or <strong>the</strong>ir boisterousness or <strong>the</strong>irboorishness or <strong>the</strong>ir artisticalness, or <strong>the</strong> exquisite aroma(or stifl<strong>in</strong>g reek) of <strong>the</strong> tobacco that cl<strong>in</strong>gs about <strong>the</strong>m—all this suggests tapers at a shr<strong>in</strong>e, or a sensitive shr<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>gfrom <strong>the</strong> embraces of a bear. Because our novelist isunusually a little self-conscious <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir company, so arewe. We must strip off this mask of <strong>the</strong> period and evadethis trepidation before we can use what else we are given,and out of <strong>the</strong>se fragments and what <strong>the</strong>y imply makeof such characters explorable wholes.But though even <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>est fiction consists only ofwords, every such word may have been <strong>the</strong> outcome of animpassioned choice. Its maker himself, <strong>the</strong>refore, cannotbut be immanent <strong>in</strong> it, though usually he is not at hand.He <strong>in</strong>fluences <strong>the</strong> scene as may <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>tangible presence ofa div<strong>in</strong>ity, whose all it is, and whose presence is everywhere,even though it rema<strong>in</strong> unheeded. In fiction whichfalls short of this standard, but not too far, that presenceis more obvious and externalised. The reader is on privateproperty, and evidences of its owner are everywhere conspicuous.At an extreme, such a story becomes a mereessay with illustrative puppets. And what if <strong>the</strong> lord of<strong>the</strong> Manor be a lady?Whatever <strong>the</strong> converse may be, I am <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>ed to th<strong>in</strong>kthat when a man is read<strong>in</strong>g a novel written by a woman,he is more or less pervasively aware that he is <strong>in</strong> fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e
72 Walter de la Marecompany. This awareness cannot depend on any lack ofartistry s<strong>in</strong>ce, surely, it is never absent when Jane Austenis delight<strong>in</strong>g us with her company. It has a subtle andpervasive effect extremely difficult to def<strong>in</strong>e. RhodaBroughton—vivid, impulsive, romantic, satirical; MrsOliphant—cultured, fervent yet amused, courageous andaustere; Mrs Lynn L<strong>in</strong>ton—mordant, daunt<strong>in</strong>g, cold;Mrs Alexander—sympa<strong>the</strong>tic, equable, just, tenderhearted;Jessie Fo<strong>the</strong>rgill—earnest, reserved, aspir<strong>in</strong>g, alittle stilted; Mrs Annie Edwardes—bold, acute, worldly;Ouida—witty, cynical, flighty, odd; Rosa Carey—observant,sentimental, scrupulous, lover of scene and season;Jean Ingelow—oddly unreal, meander<strong>in</strong>g, but with occasionalgl<strong>in</strong>ts of penetrat<strong>in</strong>g imag<strong>in</strong>ation—mere glimpsesall of <strong>the</strong>m, and of but a few of many, and on how slendera foundation. But how <strong>in</strong> a few words convey <strong>the</strong> phantomof personality, which <strong>in</strong> every one of us has so manystrands, as it disengages itself from a piece of pure <strong>in</strong>ventionconcerned with imag<strong>in</strong>ary scenes and characters,and whose <strong>in</strong>fluence when it is entirely unpremeditatedis only <strong>the</strong> more effective.But apart from this various and often delightful companionshipand apart from all pleasures and <strong>in</strong>terests ofa literary k<strong>in</strong>d that await <strong>the</strong> reader of this bygonefiction, it affords ano<strong>the</strong>r diversion—and one which <strong>was</strong>certa<strong>in</strong>ly not aimed at by its writers. At <strong>the</strong> merethought of it, <strong>in</strong>deed, <strong>the</strong> busy pen might at once havefallen idle from <strong>the</strong> nerveless f<strong>in</strong>gers. None <strong>the</strong> less, alas,it may possibly prove <strong>the</strong> most enterta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g—<strong>the</strong> charm,that is, and <strong>the</strong> illum<strong>in</strong>ation afforded by <strong>the</strong> old-fashioned.Here it is <strong>the</strong> realist, <strong>the</strong> copyist, who suffers most, or atany rate suffers most for <strong>the</strong> time be<strong>in</strong>g. Centuries hence<strong>the</strong> antiquarian may fall upon his work as if it were <strong>the</strong>funeral memorials of a Tutankhamen. After an <strong>in</strong>tervalof fifty <strong>year</strong>s its appearance is merely odd and queer and
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 73pacify<strong>in</strong>g and, if one <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n a child <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>se matters, alittle pa<strong>the</strong>tic. Manners, habits, hobbies, dress, furniture,food, frivolities—how swiftly <strong>the</strong> dreadful charge ofqua<strong>in</strong>tness can be brought aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong>m.Here, for example, is an <strong>in</strong>terior, admirably <strong>in</strong>formed,but closely resembl<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> pell-mell of an auction-room,yet still as <strong>in</strong>habitable as a dream. We have mounted <strong>the</strong>steps <strong>in</strong>to a prosperous city man's London mansion, <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> days when dozens of young stockbrokers, 'more orless jewelled, white-hatted and blue-era vatted, were to beseen flitt<strong>in</strong>g to and fro about Mark Lane... any sunsh<strong>in</strong>ymorn<strong>in</strong>g between March and October'.There <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> suite of reception rooms, three <strong>in</strong> number—<strong>the</strong>yellow damask room, <strong>the</strong> blue sat<strong>in</strong> room, and <strong>the</strong> crimson velvetroom—all panelled with enormous look<strong>in</strong>g-glasses, lit by chandelierslike pendent founta<strong>in</strong>s, and crowded with gilded furniture,pictures <strong>in</strong> heavy Italian frames, tables of Florent<strong>in</strong>e mosaic,cab<strong>in</strong>ets <strong>in</strong> buhl and marqueterie, ormolu clocks, and expensivetrifles from all quarters of <strong>the</strong> globe. Here <strong>was</strong> noth<strong>in</strong>g antique—noth<strong>in</strong>g rare, save for its costl<strong>in</strong>ess. Here were no old masters, nopriceless pieces of majolica, no Cell<strong>in</strong>i caskets, no enamels, no<strong>in</strong>tagli, no Etruscan tazza, no Pompeian relics; but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir placegreat vases of <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>est modern Sevres; pa<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>gs by Frith,Maclise, Stanfield, Meissonier, and David Roberts; bronzes byBarbedienne; Ch<strong>in</strong>ese ivory carv<strong>in</strong>gs, and wonderful clockworktoys from Geneva. The malachite tabic <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> boudoir from <strong>the</strong>International Exhibition of 1851; <strong>the</strong> marble group <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> alcoveat <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> third draw<strong>in</strong>g-room <strong>was</strong> by Marochetti; <strong>the</strong>Gobel<strong>in</strong> tapestries were among <strong>the</strong> latest products of <strong>the</strong> Imperiallooms. Money, <strong>in</strong> short, <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>re omnipresent—money <strong>in</strong>abundance; and even taste. But not taste of <strong>the</strong> highest order.Not that highly tra<strong>in</strong>ed taste which seems to 'run' <strong>in</strong> certa<strong>in</strong>classes of society, like handsome hands or f<strong>in</strong>e complexions.It is a museum piece, after Gibbon, but, alas, <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terven<strong>in</strong>g<strong>year</strong>s seem to have put it under glass.A d<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g-room, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, from The Woo<strong>in</strong>g OHexhibits taste of an order high enough at least to satisfy<strong>the</strong> first-cous<strong>in</strong> of an earl, and a fastidious cous<strong>in</strong> at that:... A most da<strong>in</strong>ty apartment it <strong>was</strong>: <strong>the</strong> walls a pale grey,
74 Walter de la Marerichly but lightly decorated <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Pompeian style; <strong>the</strong> hang<strong>in</strong>gsof soft amber, fr<strong>in</strong>ged and relieved with borders of red-brownvelvet.The d<strong>in</strong>ner <strong>was</strong> perfection. The poetically-arranged dessert, withits delicate service of engraved glass and silver, <strong>the</strong> profusion offlowers, <strong>the</strong> noiseless attendance which seemed to anticipate everywant, <strong>the</strong> easy elegance, <strong>the</strong> quiet simplicity, made one forget, by<strong>the</strong> absence of effort, <strong>the</strong> immense cost at which this completeness<strong>was</strong> atta<strong>in</strong>ed.But Maggie, one of <strong>the</strong> guests at this feast, is not quiteat her ease, for her rival shares its perfection, and this isher demi-toilette:.. .rich, dull, thick silk, of <strong>the</strong> most delicate spr<strong>in</strong>g-like green,with quantities of priceless white lace, and emeralds sparkl<strong>in</strong>g atears and throat—a sort of half-subdued sparkle <strong>in</strong> her great eyes,and a rich colour <strong>in</strong> her clear brunette cheek.'Can <strong>the</strong> force of civilisation fur<strong>the</strong>r go?' thought Trafford, ashe unfolded his napk<strong>in</strong> and prepared to enjoy his potage a lapr<strong>in</strong>tanier....And here is Mr Lascelles' draw<strong>in</strong>g-room, <strong>the</strong> Mecca ofhis ' spiritual harem':The table <strong>was</strong> deal, with heavy, pla<strong>in</strong>ly-squared legs and a pla<strong>in</strong>,unornamented 'autumn-leaf table cover; <strong>the</strong> old oak chairs werestiff, hard, and straight-backed, and <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> not an arm-chair, nora lounge, nor a sofa anywhere. The cold grey walls were hung witha few pictures—all sacred subjects; some <strong>in</strong> oils, copies from <strong>the</strong>Old Masters, and some of <strong>the</strong> Arundel Society set <strong>in</strong> pla<strong>in</strong> whiteframes, without even a gilded edge. A few flowers <strong>in</strong> gres deFlandres vases gave <strong>the</strong> sole signs of liv<strong>in</strong>g life <strong>the</strong>re were; but<strong>the</strong>se were only on two brackets which flanked <strong>the</strong> feet of a largecarved ivory crucifix—an antique—that hung aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> wall....It <strong>was</strong> a room that suggested more than it expressed....And last, here is Lady Lanchester's country-housed<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g-room bedecked for an improvised 'hop'.I don't wish to see a more cheery scene than <strong>the</strong> Wentworthd<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g-room—transmogrified with p<strong>in</strong>k calico and Union Jacks andwreaths of evergreens and flowers, it hardly knew itself, <strong>the</strong> bandconsist<strong>in</strong>g of a big fiddle, a little fiddle, harp and bones.
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 75As for dress, an old lady <strong>in</strong> Poor Pretty Bobbie byRhoda Broughton tells how <strong>in</strong> her day young peopledamped <strong>the</strong>ir clo<strong>the</strong>s to make <strong>the</strong>m stick more closely to<strong>the</strong>m, 'to make <strong>the</strong>m def<strong>in</strong>e more dist<strong>in</strong>ctly <strong>the</strong> outl<strong>in</strong>eof form and limbs'. 'One's waist <strong>was</strong> under one's arms,<strong>the</strong> sole object of which seemed to be to outrage natureby push<strong>in</strong>g one's bust up <strong>in</strong>to one's ch<strong>in</strong>, and one's legswere revealed through one's scanty drapery with startl<strong>in</strong>gcandour as one walked or sat.' Not quite so <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies:How lovely she <strong>was</strong> ! None but a very lovely woman could havestood <strong>the</strong> dull ivory sat<strong>in</strong> dress she wore, fitt<strong>in</strong>g tight, without afold or a crease <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> waist... trail<strong>in</strong>g straight and long beh<strong>in</strong>dher. She wore a black lace fichu, and elbow-sleeves with black laceruffles fall<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong>m. The fichu <strong>was</strong> fastened with a goldenbrooch; beyond that <strong>was</strong> not a ribbon, not a frill, not a jewelor a flower about her. And her beauty came triumphant through<strong>the</strong> ordeal.And Hermione, at <strong>the</strong> d<strong>in</strong>ner party when her husband,<strong>the</strong> a<strong>the</strong>ist, is unmasked:She had never looked so well and had never been dressed withsuch a prodigality of wealth and luxury. Her dress <strong>was</strong> 'moonlight'-colouredsat<strong>in</strong>...with a good deal of f<strong>in</strong>e white lace andsilver embroidery about it. She wore diamonds <strong>in</strong> her hair andround her neck.... She didn't look more than twenty five <strong>year</strong>s ofage with her fair <strong>in</strong>nocent face, crowned with <strong>the</strong> curly golden hair.... Her beautiful arms with one diamond band on each; her softlymoulded figure which had bloomed <strong>in</strong>to generosity without los<strong>in</strong>gits grace.If <strong>the</strong> 'seventies be any guide, <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong> novelist whofalls short of <strong>the</strong> best and brightest must beware of a tooprecisedescriptiveness. 'Art is coy and loves a secret.'And Time caricatures <strong>the</strong> lately past <strong>in</strong> precisely <strong>the</strong> samefashion as Mr Punch scoffs at <strong>the</strong> just-arrived.No longer does a young married woman flush withtimidity at meet<strong>in</strong>g a strange young man <strong>in</strong> a field ofbarley, or steal out for a ' dawdle and scramble' <strong>in</strong>to her
76 Walter de la Marek<strong>in</strong>dly, detested, land-owner husband's park <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>dowdiest cloak and hat she can f<strong>in</strong>d—hav<strong>in</strong>g first removedher wedd<strong>in</strong>g-r<strong>in</strong>g. And as for <strong>the</strong> Dolly whorem<strong>in</strong>ded Miss Broughton of Poems and Ballads, she hasrecently appeared (though <strong>in</strong> a different walk of life) as<strong>the</strong> hero<strong>in</strong>e of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and <strong>the</strong>re hasbeen explored. Yet even she would have been a littlescandalised perhaps at <strong>the</strong> thought of read<strong>in</strong>g HumphreyCl<strong>in</strong>ker to her fa<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> her 'teens, as did <strong>the</strong> old lady of1820 told of <strong>in</strong> Twilight Stories.How oddly reviv<strong>in</strong>g, too, are pass<strong>in</strong>g references <strong>in</strong> thisold fiction to what <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n ' <strong>the</strong> latest th<strong>in</strong>g out' or to <strong>the</strong>taken-for-granted <strong>in</strong> that smaller, bygone, darker, gayer,unevener, homelier London: to <strong>the</strong> pre-Raphaelites,to Wagner, to Mr Tennyson, to <strong>the</strong> craze for Bach, Botticelliand blue ch<strong>in</strong>a, to gas that mortified <strong>the</strong> atmosphereand blackened <strong>the</strong> ceil<strong>in</strong>g, to tea at ten o'clock, tocard games (Commerce and Chow-chow), to antiquatedcrim<strong>in</strong>als. Rush (' Pig to-day, and plenty of plum sauce'),Palmer and Townley, to bonnet and shawl (a comb<strong>in</strong>ationwhich poor man has never forgotten hav<strong>in</strong>g succumbedto), to <strong>the</strong> learned l<strong>in</strong>go of <strong>the</strong> latest science, to <strong>the</strong>gentleman's sunshade, to <strong>the</strong> hansom cabman '<strong>in</strong> hisSunday black', to <strong>the</strong> new-fangled mow<strong>in</strong>g mach<strong>in</strong>e, toSolitaire, to waltz and galop and mazurka, to opiates andcosmetics, to' pipesticks' and silk slipper tobacco-pouches,to Mart<strong>in</strong>is (<strong>the</strong> rifle), to personal letters from Worth tohis choicest clients, to neuralgia—<strong>the</strong> ' malady <strong>in</strong> vogue',to children who 'fear' <strong>the</strong>ir parents, and servants whorefuse to stay <strong>in</strong> service more than <strong>the</strong> 'conventional<strong>year</strong>'.We gaze wistfully on <strong>the</strong>se fad<strong>in</strong>g memoranda of avanished scene. We are amused. But now and <strong>the</strong>n wemay surprise ourselves smil<strong>in</strong>g a little wrily at <strong>the</strong> discoverythat many of <strong>the</strong> novelties of which we are most
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 77conscious <strong>in</strong> our own disillusioned era are not quite sodewy and verdant as we suppose. One novelist assuresus, 'No young gentleman who is a gentleman ever iseager about anyth<strong>in</strong>g now-a-days'; ano<strong>the</strong>r, ' It <strong>was</strong> notthat he felt at all happier or satisfied or contented—notthat life appeared much brighter to him, only it had tobe lived'. That is hardly a sentiment alien to our time.The objection of <strong>the</strong> dowager of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies 'to <strong>the</strong>newest k<strong>in</strong>d of danc<strong>in</strong>g', may be no surprise, but it islittle short of a shock to chance <strong>in</strong> Probation on such apassage as, 'I fancy <strong>the</strong> children are as good as <strong>the</strong>irparents would like <strong>the</strong>m to be.... The new education<strong>the</strong>ory is that when children are allowed <strong>the</strong>ir own way<strong>the</strong>y always do right, or if <strong>the</strong>y do wrong someone elseis to blame for it'. And we are by no means <strong>in</strong> strangesurround<strong>in</strong>gs when we read:Hugo and his companion left <strong>the</strong> mill-yard, and paced down <strong>the</strong>street <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> bitter cold of <strong>the</strong> March twilight, now rapidly becom<strong>in</strong>gdarkness. The lamps were be<strong>in</strong>g lighted; some shops were open;<strong>the</strong> passengers along <strong>the</strong> streets were not many; <strong>the</strong> great factorieswere silent, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no cloud of smoke to obscure <strong>the</strong> frostilytw<strong>in</strong>kl<strong>in</strong>g stars.These and many similar curiosities will be <strong>the</strong> unforeseenharvest of an adventure <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> novels of <strong>the</strong> womenof <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. If <strong>the</strong> reader disda<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>m, he will beless well rewarded. All fiction, however little its authormay have <strong>in</strong>tended it, becomes at last a picturesqueannotation of history. The very prejudices displayed<strong>in</strong> it are reveal<strong>in</strong>g. But as with many o<strong>the</strong>r th<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong>life, what may be an advance is not necessarily progress.Time puts th<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong>to proportion, or at any rate <strong>in</strong>to aclearer relation one with ano<strong>the</strong>r. The novelists attempta similar feat, but Time has his way with <strong>the</strong>m too.For which reason, and apart from <strong>the</strong> work of <strong>the</strong>masters and mistresses of <strong>the</strong> art, <strong>the</strong>re must be of fiction,as of most th<strong>in</strong>gs civilised, a constant supply laid on, like
78 Walter de la Maregas, like water, like beauties and celebrities, like lead<strong>in</strong>garticles, like politics. Yet though <strong>the</strong> fashion changes, <strong>in</strong>essence fiction changes not very much. And even thoughit flourish as briefly as a poppy <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> wheat, it mayhave consumed <strong>the</strong> very soul of its maker. The pressr<strong>in</strong>gs and r<strong>in</strong>gs aga<strong>in</strong> with carillons of congratulation andflattery, or damns with fa<strong>in</strong>t praise. The critic gently orseverely displaces <strong>the</strong> reviewer. A hurricane may sweepacross <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>sular scene from France, from Russia, orfrom Germany maybe. A Henry James may widen <strong>the</strong>range, ref<strong>in</strong>e <strong>the</strong> technique, and multiply <strong>the</strong> difficulties;and <strong>the</strong> censor may add to <strong>the</strong> price and <strong>in</strong>crease <strong>the</strong> saleof some forbidden and even possibly purg<strong>in</strong>g da<strong>in</strong>tywhich he <strong>in</strong>tended to destroy.But when all is said, <strong>the</strong> actual experience of shar<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> company of <strong>the</strong>se once liv<strong>in</strong>g and eager and now halfforgotten' lady fictionists'—and even of <strong>the</strong> less endear<strong>in</strong>gof <strong>the</strong>m—is a ra<strong>the</strong>r tragic one.Blow, blow, thou w<strong>in</strong>ter w<strong>in</strong>d,Thou are not so unk<strong>in</strong>dAs man's <strong>in</strong>gratitude....A dead book is a more pa<strong>the</strong>tic, a more forlorn objectthan a tombstone. It strikes nearer home. In <strong>the</strong> read<strong>in</strong>gof many such books, even though <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> process life stirs<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>m aga<strong>in</strong>, one's m<strong>in</strong>d, if it is capable of sentiment,becomes haunted at last. These are ghosts. A clumsy<strong>in</strong>terloper has pushed open a door only just ajar, and hisheavy tread resounds <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> still, abandoned rooms. Thephantom tenants, once eager and warm-blooded, would,I believe, gladly keep him out. They are less alien to himthan he to <strong>the</strong>m. But <strong>the</strong> wan dismantled house, <strong>the</strong>w<strong>in</strong>d <strong>in</strong> its willows, <strong>the</strong> owl <strong>in</strong> its cold chimney, nightskiesof <strong>the</strong> nowhere overhead, rema<strong>in</strong>s defenceless. Itcowers <strong>in</strong> silence, but cannot eject <strong>the</strong> trespasser.And <strong>the</strong> distant rumour that thrills <strong>the</strong> air is not only
Women Novelists of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 79<strong>the</strong> sound of Time's dark waters, but is m<strong>in</strong>gled with <strong>the</strong>roar of our own busy pr<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g presses. 'As we are, soyou shall be!' The very <strong>year</strong>s we now so actively occupywill soon be packed up <strong>in</strong> an old satchel and labelled, <strong>the</strong>'twenties; and our little, hot, cold, violent, affected,brand new, exquisite, fresh little habits of m<strong>in</strong>d, manners,hobbies, fashions, ideals will have th<strong>in</strong>ned and vanishedaway, will steadily have evaporated, leav<strong>in</strong>g only a frigiddeposit of history; a few decay<strong>in</strong>g build<strong>in</strong>gs, a fewpictures, some music, some mach<strong>in</strong>e-made voices, animmense quantity of pr<strong>in</strong>t—most of it never to be disturbedaga<strong>in</strong>.In <strong>the</strong> midst of <strong>the</strong> battle maybe it is <strong>in</strong>discreet to museon <strong>the</strong> tranquil moonlit <strong>in</strong>difference of <strong>the</strong> night thatwill follow. Yet one cannot but be rem<strong>in</strong>ded of it as onegrubs and burrows <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>se old novels—re-animat<strong>in</strong>gold hero<strong>in</strong>es, not merely dead and buried (for no novelisthas power to keep <strong>the</strong>m so) but forgotten. It may be thatmany devotees still visit <strong>the</strong> derelict scene. If it is not so,may I be forgiven for disturb<strong>in</strong>g its peace. Walter SavageLandor <strong>was</strong> confident that his work would be remembered.'I shall d<strong>in</strong>e late; but <strong>the</strong> d<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g-room will bewell-lighted, <strong>the</strong> guests few and select.' That too may be<strong>the</strong> postponed joy of some of our novelists. But Landorknew also that such a dest<strong>in</strong>y is unusual:—Laodameia died; Helen died; Leda, <strong>the</strong> beloved of Jupiter,went before. It is better to repose <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> earth betimes than to situp late; better, than to cl<strong>in</strong>g pert<strong>in</strong>aciously to what we feelcrumbl<strong>in</strong>g under us, and to protract an <strong>in</strong>evitable fall. We mayenjoy <strong>the</strong> present while we are <strong>in</strong>sensible of <strong>in</strong>firmity and decay:but <strong>the</strong> present, like a note <strong>in</strong> music, is noth<strong>in</strong>g but as it apperta<strong>in</strong>sto what is past and what is to come. There are no fields of amaranthon this side of <strong>the</strong> grave; <strong>the</strong>re are no voices, O Rhodope, that arenot soon mute, however tuneful; <strong>the</strong>re is no name, with whateveremphasis of passionate love repeated, of which <strong>the</strong> echo is not fa<strong>in</strong>tat last.
§4'•••«•••>•>«••>•••»••••••••»•^Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies—and AfterBy GEORGE SAINTSBURYAT will pretty certa<strong>in</strong>ly be known to any R.S.L, audiencethat even before 1870 <strong>the</strong> Press had quite got rid of mostif not all <strong>the</strong> disadvantages which <strong>in</strong> earlier <strong>year</strong>s hadhung about it, and which had deterred men of some socialand undoubted <strong>in</strong>tellectual rank from do<strong>in</strong>g it service.No more had not merely <strong>the</strong> neophyte but <strong>the</strong> journalistof some experience outside as well as <strong>in</strong>side journalism toth<strong>in</strong>k himself lucky if he could clear ten shill<strong>in</strong>gs by afull morn<strong>in</strong>g's work: only <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> remotest country villagesdid old ladies deplore <strong>the</strong> fate of <strong>the</strong>ir nieces who marriedcontributors to penny papers. The lift which had beengiven, <strong>in</strong> respect of more or less known contributorship,by <strong>the</strong> Ed<strong>in</strong>burgh and <strong>the</strong> Quarterly, by Blackwood andFraser, had, with less or more of <strong>the</strong> element of ' knownness'extended its <strong>in</strong>fluence to daily and weekly pr<strong>in</strong>ts;and men leav<strong>in</strong>g Oxford and Cambridge had for a fullgeneration, though perhaps as a rule under some pretenceof by-work on <strong>the</strong>ir way to Bench of this or that k<strong>in</strong>d,taken <strong>the</strong> Press's sovereigns.Anybody of tolerable <strong>in</strong>telligence could of course seethat this new Island which had risen from <strong>the</strong> waves,though provid<strong>in</strong>g comfortable colony-places and wholesomefood for respectable people <strong>in</strong> a very satisfactorymanner, <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> a way a sort of Island of <strong>the</strong> Sirens—of<strong>the</strong> Sirens <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir proper vocation, which it must be
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 81remembered, though it often is not, <strong>was</strong> not so much togobble sailors up or drown <strong>the</strong>m as to keep <strong>the</strong>m from<strong>the</strong>ir bus<strong>in</strong>ess and prevent <strong>the</strong>ir reach<strong>in</strong>g nobler goalsthan it could itself provide. I believe <strong>the</strong>re are somepeople who regard or affect to regard my friend of nearlyforty <strong>year</strong>s, <strong>the</strong> late Mr Andrew Lang, as hav<strong>in</strong>g been tosome extent a Victim of this Sirenity of <strong>the</strong> Press, and itmay be worth while to consider this, with some o<strong>the</strong>rpo<strong>in</strong>ts about him.I did not know Lang <strong>in</strong> his very earliest literary days,for though he <strong>was</strong> a fellow of my own College, Merton,his Fellowship only began some months after my Postmastershipended; and though it actually followed fromthis that wc had been for some <strong>year</strong>s undergraduatestoge<strong>the</strong>r, it happened that I <strong>was</strong> very little <strong>in</strong> his college,Balliol. He had come up ra<strong>the</strong>r late, hav<strong>in</strong>g passedthrough two Scotch Universities, St Andrews and Glasgow,but I doubt whe<strong>the</strong>r anybody ever spent, ei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>nor<strong>the</strong>rn or sou<strong>the</strong>rn Academes, days more preparativefor a literary life than he had when he first listened to<strong>the</strong> Siren's voice. Indeed my doubt would be audaciousenough to extend itself fur<strong>the</strong>r, and question whe<strong>the</strong>ranybody, undergraduate or don, Oxonian or Cantab,about <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong> 1869 possessed knowledge of ancient andmodern literature as literature, coupled with power tomake use of that knowledge <strong>in</strong> a literary way, to a greaterextent than Lang.At <strong>the</strong> same time nobody <strong>was</strong> ever less of <strong>the</strong> typicalimag<strong>in</strong>ary pedant or merely bookish person than he <strong>was</strong>.Some physical defects—at <strong>the</strong> very time when he hadjust published his first book <strong>in</strong> 1872 considerable doubt<strong>was</strong> enterta<strong>in</strong>ed by <strong>the</strong> faculty whe<strong>the</strong>r he <strong>was</strong> not hopelesslyconsumptive—prevented him from be<strong>in</strong>g a greatpractical sportsman. But he used to <strong>in</strong>form his friends,with just pride but perfect consciousness of <strong>the</strong> doubleB 6
82 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburyedgedness of <strong>the</strong> classification, that authorities <strong>in</strong> crickethad ranked him as 'a change bowler' and he never lost<strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> game or (though to a somewhat less extent)<strong>in</strong> several o<strong>the</strong>rs, dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> whole of his life. In whatused to be, and perhaps always should be <strong>the</strong> greatest ofall Press subjects whe<strong>the</strong>r on <strong>the</strong> more abstract or stillmore on <strong>the</strong> party side, he could with difficulty be got toshow any <strong>in</strong>terest. I used to say of him that he couldn'tbe a Liberal and wouldn't be a Tory. He did not withany will<strong>in</strong>gness treat religious subjects, while Science <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> more limited sense but with <strong>the</strong> largest capital, <strong>was</strong>not his bus<strong>in</strong>ess, yet <strong>the</strong> Encyclopaedia held few o<strong>the</strong>rsubjects on which he could not write someth<strong>in</strong>g worthread<strong>in</strong>g.I do not know <strong>in</strong> what paper Lang made <strong>the</strong> first ofhis many thousand appearances <strong>in</strong> periodicals. He had,I th<strong>in</strong>k, family connections with <strong>the</strong> Saturday Review,which had already for some <strong>year</strong>s exemplified and harboured<strong>the</strong> great though ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>def<strong>in</strong>able change <strong>in</strong>English journalism. New papers, which did not alwayslive to be old, were constantly start<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> late 'sixtiesand early 'seventies: and to one of <strong>the</strong>m at least—mostvirtuous and hospitable but ill by any profit rewarded,though it kept itself alive and contributed to <strong>the</strong> alivekeep<strong>in</strong>gof its contributors for a considerable period—to<strong>the</strong> Academy, he <strong>was</strong>, I th<strong>in</strong>k, a supporter from <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g.But <strong>the</strong> fact <strong>was</strong> that no editor who had <strong>the</strong> veryslightest fitness for his bus<strong>in</strong>ess could hesitate aboutannex<strong>in</strong>g anyth<strong>in</strong>g of Lang's that <strong>was</strong> offered to him andpromptly demand<strong>in</strong>g more. I have had myself no shortor small experience of edit<strong>in</strong>g or assist<strong>in</strong>g to edit; a verylarge experience <strong>in</strong> contribut<strong>in</strong>g; and, until quite recently,what it is not, I th<strong>in</strong>k, extravagant to call animmense experience <strong>in</strong> read<strong>in</strong>g this division of literature.I do not hesitate to say that, allow<strong>in</strong>g for his not tak<strong>in</strong>g
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 83service <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> political, <strong>the</strong> religious and some technicaldepartments, Lang <strong>was</strong> quite <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>g of all <strong>the</strong> contributorsto ' <strong>the</strong> papers' that I have known. His vessel did notcarry—thanks to <strong>the</strong> limitations just mentioned it didnot require—such heavy metal as H. D. Traill's; I fancythat it may itself have been of slightly too heavy adraught <strong>in</strong> respect of knowledge on <strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> readerto be able to skim <strong>the</strong> waves of universal popularity asdid, especially latterly, <strong>the</strong> craft of our common friendSir Edmund Gosse. But for a compound of scholarshipand lighthandedness, of multilegence and complete freedomfrom pedantry, of what may be called literary goodmanners, <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ite wit and a peculiar humour he had, Ith<strong>in</strong>k, <strong>in</strong> his own generation no equal—certa<strong>in</strong>ly nosuperior.And wherever it <strong>was</strong> first shown <strong>the</strong>re I am sureappeared, though it could hardly be separately recognisedtill it <strong>was</strong> followed by someth<strong>in</strong>g else, a peculiarity whichhas not yet been mentioned but which depended withoutdoubt on th<strong>in</strong>gs that have been. And this <strong>was</strong> Lang'sextraord<strong>in</strong>ary <strong>in</strong>dividuality. You could not, after youhad seen a little of his writ<strong>in</strong>g, mistake it for any oneelse's or any one else's for his. Nor did this <strong>in</strong>dividualitydepend upon any tricks of style <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> lower sense like<strong>the</strong> snipsnap of Macaulay; <strong>the</strong> chaotic riches of Carlyle;<strong>the</strong> repetitions and word-group<strong>in</strong>gs of Arnold; <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fusedblank verse (<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir so different k<strong>in</strong>ds) of Rusk<strong>in</strong>and Dickens; <strong>the</strong> elaborate rhythm and colour<strong>in</strong>g ofPater. It <strong>was</strong> most commonly said to be like Thackeray's,and no doubt <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> a strong resemblance of spirit;but I really doubt whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> greatest similarity between<strong>the</strong>ir manners <strong>was</strong> not <strong>the</strong> fact that nei<strong>the</strong>r hadany manner easy to analyse or capable of be<strong>in</strong>g p<strong>in</strong>nedout and down. Only great <strong>in</strong>competence or great prejudice—forchoice perhaps a skilful comb<strong>in</strong>ation of <strong>the</strong>6-2
84 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburytwo—could fail to recognise this idiosyncrasy. I remembertalk<strong>in</strong>g about him, not long after his death, witha person by no means <strong>in</strong>competent but <strong>the</strong> contrary, ascholar, a man familiar with society, an expert <strong>in</strong> variousk<strong>in</strong>ds of press-work, but one, I th<strong>in</strong>k, who did not likeLang ei<strong>the</strong>r personally or critically as much as I did. Hehad been <strong>in</strong>dulg<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> some little drawbacks and dist<strong>in</strong>guosto some of my commendatory remarks; but whenI came to this po<strong>in</strong>t of absolute <strong>in</strong>dividuality he boggledno more. He fully admitted that what Lang could giveyou nobody else could; that he copied nobody and thatnobody had ever succeeded <strong>in</strong> copy<strong>in</strong>g him. I have<strong>in</strong>deed been told that some wicked men <strong>in</strong> clubs haveticketed o<strong>the</strong>rs as' Sham Langs', but <strong>the</strong> resemblance <strong>was</strong>merely caricatural <strong>in</strong> personal ways and simply nonexistent<strong>in</strong> literary form.Curiously, but ra<strong>the</strong>r conveniently and almost immediatelyafter writ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> preced<strong>in</strong>g paragraph, I saw<strong>in</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t a description of Lang's style as ' a waggish drawl'.The context, unless it <strong>was</strong> ironical, seemed to show nohostile <strong>in</strong>tention <strong>in</strong> this; but hostile or friendly, seriousor ironical, it <strong>was</strong> extremely, though no doubt not quiteun<strong>in</strong>tentionally, illum<strong>in</strong>ative. As adequate, or even aspartially correct, one could not accept it for a moment.Lang's speech might from anybody who did not <strong>in</strong>tendto be specially complimentary be called a drawl; I havebeen told that his consciousness of it <strong>was</strong> one of <strong>the</strong>reasons for his refus<strong>in</strong>g professorships, though he didsometimes lecture. But how his pr<strong>in</strong>ted matter couldproduce on any one <strong>the</strong> effect of drawl<strong>in</strong>g is a mystery tome—<strong>the</strong> drawl must have la<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d's ear that read,not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d's mouth or pen that wrote. And thisexplanation, so frequently applicable <strong>in</strong> changed applicationsto misestimates and misunderstand<strong>in</strong>gs, is evenmore valuable as regards <strong>the</strong> 'waggish'. Of course if
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 85anybody takes this word to be a synonym for ' humorous'we beg<strong>in</strong> to see a great light—for humorous '<strong>in</strong> a quietway' (as a good-for-noth<strong>in</strong>g satirist-contemporary ofthose days observed of someth<strong>in</strong>g else) Lang always <strong>was</strong>,except perhaps sometimes, though rarely, when humour<strong>was</strong> doubtfully <strong>in</strong> place. But 'waggish' he <strong>was</strong> never orvery seldom, on a few occasions when I th<strong>in</strong>k he did it onpurpose by way of throw<strong>in</strong>g more contempt on hissubject. Yet <strong>the</strong> description is, as <strong>was</strong> said, valuable. Itexpla<strong>in</strong>s his immense popularity, especially <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> numberof miscellaneous and non-political matters that he wroteabout for so many <strong>year</strong>s <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Daily News, because it isquite possible that a certa<strong>in</strong> proportion of <strong>the</strong> vulgus didtake this quiet humour for a variety of <strong>the</strong> drawn-outjok<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>y admire on <strong>the</strong> stage. And it is possible thato<strong>the</strong>rs may have disliked and may now dislike it because<strong>the</strong>y took it at <strong>the</strong> same ' angle of <strong>the</strong> moral oxygen' anddid not like that angle, not be<strong>in</strong>g able to see round it.It <strong>was</strong> not till just this side of <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong>'seventies that I actually met Lang; for dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>irearlier <strong>year</strong>s I had been liv<strong>in</strong>g first <strong>in</strong> Guernsey and <strong>the</strong>n<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> north of Scotland. But I had, of course, seen a gooddeal of his work <strong>in</strong> different places, and it so happenedthat his first book, Ballads and Lyrics of Old France, dealtwith a subject which (partly I suppose ow<strong>in</strong>g to my residence<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Channel Islands with Hugo for neighbourthough not acqua<strong>in</strong>tance) I had myself taken up some<strong>year</strong>s earlier. The title, however, which has just beengiven <strong>was</strong> not <strong>the</strong> whole one; for ' and o<strong>the</strong>r poems' <strong>was</strong>added, and <strong>the</strong>se o<strong>the</strong>r poems supply a considerable partof <strong>the</strong> matter. To beg<strong>in</strong> with a book of verse has alwaysbeen more or less <strong>the</strong> proper th<strong>in</strong>g—<strong>in</strong> fact I believe it isnot improper even now. But it <strong>was</strong> not <strong>the</strong> proper th<strong>in</strong>gas yet, though it came to be so before very long, to beg<strong>in</strong>with a book of prose compacted of short newspaper
86 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburyarticles. I have sometimes been sorry that <strong>the</strong> doubleentry did not <strong>the</strong>n prevail: for <strong>the</strong> contrast-comb<strong>in</strong>ation<strong>in</strong> Lang's case would have been very remarkable, andmight have 'set' <strong>the</strong> idiosyncrasy of <strong>the</strong> writer with auseful decision at an early period, before <strong>the</strong> read<strong>in</strong>gworld. As it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> world read <strong>the</strong> articles with eagernessas <strong>the</strong>y appeared and <strong>the</strong>n forgot all about <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong>dividually,while ra<strong>the</strong>r neglect<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> verse which iscerta<strong>in</strong>ly not negligible.Probably few people have had a better right to claim,as though <strong>in</strong> different words he did claim, <strong>the</strong> benefit ofAnne Evans's great def<strong>in</strong>ition of humour,' th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> jestbut feel<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> earnest', than Lang: but <strong>the</strong>' feel<strong>in</strong>g' nevergot proper recognition. Its verse expression <strong>was</strong> somewhatunlucky <strong>in</strong> po<strong>in</strong>t of time. There is not very much <strong>in</strong>this particular book, though some of <strong>the</strong> translationsnecessarily employ it, of <strong>the</strong> formal French versificationwhich a little later became so common from his and o<strong>the</strong>rhands: but <strong>the</strong> whole is more or less of that pre-Raphaelitecolour which <strong>was</strong> hav<strong>in</strong>g its day if it had not fully had it,and much more than less of that great school of n<strong>in</strong>eteenth-centurypoetry which after start<strong>in</strong>g under Keatsand Shelley, and restart<strong>in</strong>g after a short <strong>in</strong>terval underTennyson and Brown<strong>in</strong>g had, with no <strong>in</strong>terval at all,taken <strong>the</strong> pre-Raphaelite turn.Now fashion (which if not exactly a synonym for ' day'is closely connected with it), though not necessarily ei<strong>the</strong>ra bad or a good th<strong>in</strong>g, is well known to have perhapsmore bad than good effects and consequences. Howevergood it is <strong>in</strong> itself it can be exaggerated or caricatured,and by unskilful imitation turned to bad. If it is bad <strong>in</strong>itself, why it is bad, and <strong>the</strong>re's no more to be said.Whatever its <strong>in</strong>tr<strong>in</strong>sic quality, people are apt to get tiredof it to its own unfair disadvantage; or to make mistakesabout o<strong>the</strong>r th<strong>in</strong>gs which are not <strong>the</strong> fashion or, worst of
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 87all, to take more fancy to <strong>the</strong>se because <strong>the</strong>y are not <strong>the</strong>fashion. Comparatively few are those—and profoundlygrateful to Providence or <strong>the</strong> Muses, or Fate or Chanceor whatever object of gratitude takes <strong>the</strong> place of <strong>the</strong>se<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir Scheme of Th<strong>in</strong>gs, should those few be—who canappreciate all poetry which is poetry whe<strong>the</strong>r it be Job'sor <strong>the</strong> present Poet Laureate's, Donne's or Dryden's,Sappho's or Christ<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti's, Cowper's or Mr Sw<strong>in</strong>burne's.To <strong>the</strong>se fortunate ones—perhaps <strong>the</strong>re is no onewho possesses this best of good fortunes entirely andabsolutely, but <strong>the</strong>re certa<strong>in</strong>ly have been some who hadit <strong>in</strong> large shares—date and subject, form and language,are of comparative unimportance: many <strong>in</strong>stances havebeen given, some certa<strong>in</strong>ly not merely jocular, of recognitionof <strong>the</strong> poetry without understand<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong>language.Their critical appreciation has someth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> it ofwater—div<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g or reaction to atmosphere—<strong>the</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>rhackneyed but beautiful word aura would be better still.I do not th<strong>in</strong>k many people who possess this sense—forone can give it place <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>r numerously occupiedroom of <strong>the</strong> sixth senses—have refused its satisfactoryexercise to Lang's verse work—though some of <strong>the</strong>m maynot th<strong>in</strong>k that he had <strong>the</strong> faculty <strong>in</strong> its highest degree.Much is translation, and translation of famous th<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong>pure lyric, where, it has sometimes been said, you must,to succeed, be as good a poet as your orig<strong>in</strong>al <strong>was</strong>, andeven <strong>the</strong>n you will give ano<strong>the</strong>r good th<strong>in</strong>g, not <strong>the</strong> same.Therefore when you f<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> poetical atmosphere oraura <strong>in</strong> a translation <strong>the</strong> translator must be entitled to<strong>the</strong> credit of some of it: and I th<strong>in</strong>k it is to be found <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> book I am speak<strong>in</strong>g of as well as <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> more def<strong>in</strong>itelyand temporarily fashionable Ballades of some <strong>year</strong>s later.And a very uncommon talent, not easily dist<strong>in</strong>guishablefrom genius, <strong>was</strong> displayed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> prose translation of <strong>the</strong>
88 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburyOdyssey which he did <strong>in</strong> collaboration with ano<strong>the</strong>rfriend, and for some of <strong>the</strong> latter <strong>year</strong>s of his life a colleagueof m<strong>in</strong>e, S. H. Butcher. I th<strong>in</strong>k I have heard thisbook described by a person professionally connected withbooksell<strong>in</strong>g as one of <strong>the</strong> most popular translations from<strong>the</strong> classics he has himself known. That it <strong>was</strong> at <strong>the</strong> sametime one of <strong>the</strong> most scholarly might be put down, notmerely by Lang's enemies but by a not ill-natured reader,to <strong>the</strong> fact of Butcher's participation, but that his attributionwould be <strong>in</strong>sufficient ought to be seen by any onescholar enough himself to appreciate not merely <strong>the</strong>s<strong>in</strong>gly turned out Theocritus, but almost every part ofLang's work. That he <strong>was</strong> not, <strong>in</strong> certa<strong>in</strong> restricted sensesof' scholarship', a great master of it, may be true enough.But he <strong>was</strong> penetrated, <strong>in</strong> a way which <strong>was</strong> gett<strong>in</strong>g rarer<strong>in</strong> his own time and has been <strong>in</strong>creas<strong>in</strong>g its rarity evers<strong>in</strong>ce, with a sense of Greek and Roman literature which,when it <strong>was</strong> more common, <strong>was</strong> frequently disjo<strong>in</strong>ed fromany extensive knowledge of English, and <strong>was</strong> very seldomconjo<strong>in</strong>ed with any knowledge of o<strong>the</strong>r modernity exceptperhaps French which itself did not ascend beyond <strong>the</strong>grand siecle with Montaigne or Rabelais or both. There<strong>was</strong>, of course, <strong>in</strong> a few cases and at one time a certa<strong>in</strong>acqua<strong>in</strong>tance with Italian, <strong>the</strong> com<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> and <strong>the</strong> go<strong>in</strong>gout of which have always both been ra<strong>the</strong>r mysteries tome. Every girl from Scott's hero<strong>in</strong>es to my own sistersseems to have been-taught Dante and Petrarch and Tassoand even Ariosto as a matter of course. Have <strong>the</strong>se beenchanged for civism and genetics?Now how many modern languages Lang knew, <strong>in</strong> afashion capable of satisfy<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ers, I do notknow. But I do know that all his work <strong>was</strong>, as I havesaid, saturated with knowledge of literature ancient andmodern.Of course some one may say: ' As far as <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ted
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 89Lang of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies is concerned, we can form our ownop<strong>in</strong>ions: we only need you for your accidental andillegitimate advantage of hav<strong>in</strong>g known him personally'.There may be someth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> this, but not much. In <strong>the</strong>first place, by far <strong>the</strong> larger part of <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ted ' Lang of<strong>the</strong> 'seventies' never got repr<strong>in</strong>ted at all, and though <strong>the</strong>extraord<strong>in</strong>ary ' kenspeckleness' of his manner mightenable a tolerably keen-sighted person to follow him allthrough <strong>the</strong> files of <strong>the</strong> Daily News and <strong>the</strong> volumes of<strong>the</strong> Saturday as well as <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> signed matter of <strong>the</strong>Academy and elsewhere—that is not exactly everybody'sjob. There is, however, someth<strong>in</strong>g more to be said of <strong>the</strong>work before one turns to <strong>the</strong> man, I have seen this very' dispersedness' (as Shakespeare or Shakespeare's stagedirection-makermight call it) brought as a sort of chargefrom quite early dates to almost or quite this day aga<strong>in</strong>sthim. There is no doubt that <strong>the</strong> public does like to havesometh<strong>in</strong>g def<strong>in</strong>ite by which—if we are amiable we say'to remember', if not quite so 'to call' a man. It is notmere nast<strong>in</strong>ess to say that Gray owes more than half hisfame to <strong>the</strong> less <strong>in</strong>tr<strong>in</strong>sic advantage of be<strong>in</strong>g '<strong>the</strong> authorof <strong>the</strong> Elegy '. There is particular luck <strong>in</strong> this because awhole department of poetry and of literature is thusconveniently p<strong>in</strong>ned to a man's coat or vice versa: 'Gray?Oh yes! he wrote <strong>the</strong> Elegy '. 'Elegy? Oh yes, that's <strong>the</strong>th<strong>in</strong>g that Gray wrote'. And so with many o<strong>the</strong>rs. Now<strong>in</strong> all <strong>the</strong> small and closely spaced type of <strong>the</strong> columnsthat stand under Lang's name <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> catalogue of <strong>the</strong>London Library you cannot, I fear, pick out a s<strong>in</strong>gleentry with which Lang can be thus differentially andmonopolis<strong>in</strong>gly ticketed. There are or were people whowould tell you that he <strong>in</strong>tended Helen of Troy to be sucha ticket, and that it is only a failure of one. I venture todiffer with <strong>the</strong> first half of this: but <strong>the</strong>re is a certa<strong>in</strong>amount of truth about <strong>the</strong> second, though I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong>
90 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburybook deserved more success than it obta<strong>in</strong>ed. What <strong>was</strong>said above as to ill luck of times and seasons comes <strong>in</strong>here with quiet force. But if anybody desires to testLang's poetic value <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> first <strong>in</strong>stance, at less expenseof effort, let him read <strong>the</strong> 'Ballade of his Choice of aSepulchre' and <strong>the</strong> Burnaby sonnet. At <strong>the</strong> worst he willnot have <strong>was</strong>ted his time: for a result of dissatisfactionwill show that he does not himself know poetry when hesees it and had better let it alone. Some people not sohopeless prefer, I believe, one or o<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong> Gordonepicedes to <strong>the</strong> Burnaby one: but that is only an <strong>in</strong>stanceof <strong>the</strong> common error of judg<strong>in</strong>g by subject, not treatment.The mention of <strong>the</strong> Sepulchre piece—one of <strong>the</strong> mostcharm<strong>in</strong>g th<strong>in</strong>gs of <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>d that, <strong>in</strong> a tolerably widefamiliarity with verse, I know—will lead with peculiarpropriety to what may be called <strong>the</strong> specially epitaphicpart of this paper. Dismiss<strong>in</strong>g for a moment Lang <strong>the</strong>architect, and artist, what <strong>was</strong> Lang <strong>the</strong> man? There hasbeen some talk about this lately: and as only a comparativelysmall m<strong>in</strong>ority of <strong>the</strong> hearers, that is to say,readers, of this talk can be supposed to be <strong>in</strong> a positionto check it by extensive personal experience it is perhapsjust as well that those who are <strong>in</strong> such a position shouldput <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir evidence. I may have said it before <strong>in</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t—but what I say twice is not necessarily untrue—that I donot th<strong>in</strong>k anybody outside his own family knew Lang byfrequent companionship and conversation much betterthan I did. For not a few <strong>year</strong>s we walked toge<strong>the</strong>r—people walked <strong>the</strong>n and consequently talked—for aboutthree parts of <strong>the</strong> length of more specially habitableLondon, two or three times a week. And if any one shouldsay: 'Ah! he couldn't get rid of you!' this is futile: forhe could easily have done so. Be<strong>in</strong>g a faster though nota much more legible writer than myself he had alwaysdone his leader ten m<strong>in</strong>utes or a quarter of an hour before
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 91me: and needed no o<strong>the</strong>r excuse, if any at all had beenwanted, to go.This frequentation cont<strong>in</strong>ued on <strong>the</strong> scale mentionedfrom nearly <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies to not far fromthat of <strong>the</strong> 'eighties and on a somewhat reduced scale (Ihad given up contribut<strong>in</strong>g to one of <strong>the</strong> papers concerned)for ano<strong>the</strong>r ten <strong>year</strong>s, with all sorts of miscellaneous companionships.When I moved to Scotland <strong>in</strong> 1895 our meet<strong>in</strong>gswere necessarily fewer and far<strong>the</strong>r between: but Idon't th<strong>in</strong>k he often missed com<strong>in</strong>g to see me <strong>in</strong> Ed<strong>in</strong>burghon his annual way to St Andrews. Now I cannot say asRupert, Lord Derby, said on be<strong>in</strong>g sarcastically asked asto <strong>the</strong> qualities of a member of his cab<strong>in</strong>et that he ' hadheard no compla<strong>in</strong>ts'. At no time <strong>in</strong> his life I shouldth<strong>in</strong>k, and at none of <strong>the</strong> greater part of that life whichI knew, <strong>was</strong> he universally popular. I have alwaysthought more or less, and s<strong>in</strong>ce <strong>the</strong> compla<strong>in</strong>ts havemultiplied and become acrimonious I have thought stillmore, of two <strong>in</strong>cidents, one <strong>in</strong> literature, and one <strong>in</strong> life,which bear upon <strong>the</strong> matter. The first is <strong>the</strong> case of <strong>the</strong>immortal Scrub, who <strong>was</strong> sure that people <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> companywere talk<strong>in</strong>g of him because <strong>the</strong>y laughed consumedly.It <strong>was</strong> not Lang's habit to laugh consumedly: but hesometimes had an air of not be<strong>in</strong>g violently <strong>in</strong>terested <strong>in</strong>th<strong>in</strong>gs and persons, which people who were not oversureof <strong>the</strong>mselves might mistake. It is curious that <strong>in</strong> such acase it should not occur to anybody that perfect immunityfrom discomfort is provided by simply not troubl<strong>in</strong>gyourself whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r person is <strong>in</strong>terested <strong>in</strong> you ornot: but unfortunately it seldom does occur. The o<strong>the</strong>rstory, which <strong>in</strong> fact had noth<strong>in</strong>g to do personally withLang, is still perhaps illum<strong>in</strong>ative. A thousand <strong>year</strong>sago, or perhaps a little less, <strong>the</strong>re happened <strong>in</strong> a countrydraw<strong>in</strong>g-room, about afternoon call<strong>in</strong>g-time, to be presenta sufficiently ord<strong>in</strong>ary company—say, one married couple,
92 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburyone at least temporarily s<strong>in</strong>gle man and four or five ladies,married and unmarried. The coupled male hav<strong>in</strong>g someappo<strong>in</strong>tment or o<strong>the</strong>r left his wife and went forth, bestow<strong>in</strong>ga quite amiable, but not <strong>the</strong>atrically enthusiasticnod-bow on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r man, whom he did not know very<strong>in</strong>timately. When he met his wife at home later she said(I fear, laugh<strong>in</strong>g), 'Ah! you don't know what a state ofm<strong>in</strong>d you put Mr Dash <strong>in</strong> this afternoon. As soon as youhad shut <strong>the</strong> door he got up and began to walk furiouslyup and down, say<strong>in</strong>g, "Why won't that fellow shakehands with me?"' Now it happened that 'that fellow'had very recently left Oxford where, a thousand <strong>year</strong>sago or a little less, hand-shak<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong>, whatever may be<strong>the</strong> case now, quite out of fashion. With men of your ownCollege you hardly did it at all. With outcollege men, asa civility, you probably did it if you met <strong>the</strong>m at <strong>the</strong> endof term just before <strong>the</strong>y were go<strong>in</strong>g down, and perhapsat <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of it when you met <strong>the</strong>m for <strong>the</strong> firsttime. At casual meet<strong>in</strong>gs, unless <strong>the</strong>re were formal <strong>in</strong>troductions,never.Now this not quite unamus<strong>in</strong>g story came to my knowledgebefore I ever knew Lang: and as I have already saidhe had noth<strong>in</strong>g personally to do with it. But not verylong after I did know him I began to th<strong>in</strong>k of him <strong>in</strong>connection with it, and recent th<strong>in</strong>gs have brought <strong>the</strong>remembrance and resemblance freshly home. Severalpeople seem to have <strong>in</strong>terpreted Lang's manner as thatof one not th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m worth shak<strong>in</strong>g hands with,when, as a matter of fact, he <strong>was</strong> probably not th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>gabout <strong>the</strong>m at all except as co<strong>in</strong>cidences of existence. Isuppose he could not be called <strong>in</strong>variably affable; butyour <strong>in</strong>variably affable person requires a certa<strong>in</strong> extratouch from Providence to prevent him from be<strong>in</strong>gfrequently <strong>in</strong>tolerable. Now <strong>in</strong> all those <strong>year</strong>s—many of<strong>the</strong>m thickly frequented <strong>year</strong>s, of which I have spoken—
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 93I never found his company o<strong>the</strong>r than agreeable. In <strong>the</strong>earliest days he did tell somebody—at least <strong>the</strong> somebodytold me so—that I laughed like a character <strong>in</strong> Les Clochesde Corneville. But as I didn't know how <strong>the</strong> person <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Cloches de Corneville laughed and he didn't say it to me,I fear that I <strong>was</strong> not much moved.As a rule you could not have better company, of yourown sex; I have known no better story-teller. To thisday, speak<strong>in</strong>g as a critical literary Epicurean, I do notknow for which of two heard story-tell<strong>in</strong>gs I ought mostto thank my stars—Mr Anstey Guthrie's Vice versa toldon <strong>the</strong> eve of publication by Lang who knew it <strong>in</strong> processof manufacture, or one of Mr Kipl<strong>in</strong>g's, recounted by itsauthor before he had actually put it to press. But <strong>the</strong>first experience <strong>was</strong>, of course, an exception: and Lang<strong>was</strong> quite as good at ord<strong>in</strong>ary conversation on a greatnumber of subjects: politics and religion, as above, be<strong>in</strong>galmost <strong>the</strong> only ones excluded. Providence had fur<strong>the</strong>rbeen k<strong>in</strong>d <strong>in</strong> prearrang<strong>in</strong>g that though I <strong>was</strong> utterlyunfitted for ei<strong>the</strong>r of his two favourite sports, cricket andangl<strong>in</strong>g, I have never been tired of read<strong>in</strong>g reports ofcricket and possessed a bro<strong>the</strong>r-<strong>in</strong>-law who <strong>was</strong> sometimesallowed (except by <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs) to be <strong>the</strong> best fisherman<strong>in</strong> Hampshire—so that I <strong>was</strong> not a philist<strong>in</strong>e or anignoramus on ei<strong>the</strong>r subject. And as for books, one moreth<strong>in</strong>g at least is specially worth say<strong>in</strong>g on that head. Ido not th<strong>in</strong>k I ever met a man so utterly free—I am sureI never met one more so—from one of <strong>the</strong> commonestand most contemptible of <strong>the</strong> plagues that beset <strong>the</strong>'littery gent' be he poet or proseman or both—jealousyof o<strong>the</strong>rs who write about <strong>the</strong> subjects which he himself,more or less, specially prefers. 'That's my thunder', is<strong>the</strong> motto of <strong>the</strong> Dennises all over literary history. I haveknown lifelong hatreds spr<strong>in</strong>g from no apparent cause butthis. But I never saw a touch of it <strong>in</strong> Lang after I knew
94 George Sa<strong>in</strong>tsburyhim: and I am entitled to speak on <strong>the</strong> matter because,as I have mentioned already, he and I both began with<strong>the</strong> same subject—Old French—and I <strong>was</strong> before verylong luckier <strong>in</strong> gett<strong>in</strong>g hold of creditable and profitableemployment on this subject than he <strong>was</strong>. And he actually<strong>in</strong>troduced me, if not directly to <strong>the</strong>se, to o<strong>the</strong>rs whichwere likely to lead to <strong>the</strong>m. But it <strong>was</strong> quite impossiblefor him to do anyth<strong>in</strong>g ungenerous, even as it <strong>was</strong> impossiblefor him to do anyth<strong>in</strong>g unliterary. And this lastword may give us a keynote to a brief conclusion orsumm<strong>in</strong>g up of <strong>the</strong> whole matter of Andrew Lang both<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies and as long as I knew him. I have saidand now repeat that with him literary did not meanpedantic. I don't th<strong>in</strong>k I ever knew any one whom itwould be more absurd to call a pedant: it <strong>was</strong> not muchmore adequately synonymed by ' bookish', for that wordgenerally implies limitation to books. The Muses have,with <strong>the</strong> vulgar, a bad reputation for neglect<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>garments, <strong>the</strong> manners, <strong>the</strong> age, and o<strong>the</strong>r trimm<strong>in</strong>gs (asone may call <strong>the</strong>m) of <strong>the</strong>ir lovers; <strong>the</strong>y did not do sowith Lang. And <strong>the</strong> quality of his literar<strong>in</strong>ess itself <strong>was</strong>,if not as unique as his delivery of it, very unusual. It <strong>was</strong>pervasive but not obtrusive; varied but not superficial;facile to a wonderful degree, but never trivial or trumpery.It may be that <strong>in</strong> one way it did not concentrate itselfenough—did not leave two or three big books <strong>in</strong>stead ofthirty or forty little ones; and <strong>in</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r concentrateditself too much by writ<strong>in</strong>g not very small books onsubjects which might have been adequately treated <strong>in</strong>not very long essays. So also <strong>in</strong> his behaviour <strong>the</strong>re maysometimes have been a little too much abstraction, andtoo much <strong>in</strong>difference to <strong>the</strong> existence of those agreeablefolk who always put <strong>the</strong> worst construction on everyth<strong>in</strong>g.I once heard him abused for affectation becausehe had lunched off two oysters and a pancake. What use
Andrew Lang <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 95to suggest to this k<strong>in</strong>d of abuser or accuser that he probablyconf<strong>in</strong>ed himself to <strong>the</strong> two because he did not wanta third, and to <strong>the</strong> one because he did not want a second.Yet I venture to imag<strong>in</strong>e that explanations of this k<strong>in</strong>d,lodged with <strong>the</strong> Record<strong>in</strong>g Angel, would not be rejected;though that weary official might perhaps suggest that<strong>the</strong>y were quite unnecessary. Meanwhile if Lang is(more's <strong>the</strong> pity!) gone, and some of his work gone withhim or recoverable only with <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ite labour and pa<strong>in</strong>s,<strong>the</strong>re is a great body of it accessible, and <strong>the</strong> old ' Take itand Read it' may be said with unusual confidence toanybody hesitat<strong>in</strong>g about <strong>the</strong> matter. 'Selections', ofcourse, suggest <strong>the</strong>mselves and have been suggested. Itis possible to conceive not merely one but more than onewhich would supply read<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> most refresh<strong>in</strong>g k<strong>in</strong>d.But it would be an extraord<strong>in</strong>arily difficult job; and whileselections often fail to satisfy <strong>the</strong>ir readers, this selectionwould be so unlikely to satisfy <strong>the</strong> selector that he wouldprobably never get it f<strong>in</strong>ished. So <strong>the</strong> Tolle, lege, hadbetter be completed with <strong>the</strong> most elegant Lat<strong>in</strong> availablefor whatever of Lang's you come across. It is ten to oneyou will not go wrong.
§5The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'SeventiesBy JOHN DRINKWATERX HE conventions of criticism have imposed on our m<strong>in</strong>dsa habit which on <strong>the</strong> whole is helpful <strong>in</strong> organis<strong>in</strong>g ourthought, but which needs an occasional challenge to keepit from tak<strong>in</strong>g more upon itself than habits should. In<strong>the</strong>ir application to English poetry <strong>the</strong> conventions havehad a clearly def<strong>in</strong>able effect. We all of us habituallyth<strong>in</strong>k of that poetry as fall<strong>in</strong>g concisely <strong>in</strong>to a series ofepochs, each of which is readily separable from <strong>the</strong> rest<strong>in</strong> character. Thus <strong>the</strong> story presents itself with veryplausible organisation; we have <strong>the</strong> Chaucerian Age, <strong>the</strong>pre-Shakespearean, <strong>the</strong> Elizabethan, Carol<strong>in</strong>e and Restoration,<strong>the</strong> Augustan Age and <strong>the</strong> Romantic Revival,<strong>the</strong> Victorian Age, and so down to our own neo-Georgians.There is someth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> it; <strong>the</strong>re is, <strong>in</strong>deed, a great deal <strong>in</strong>it, and criticism has not been really wide of <strong>the</strong> mark <strong>in</strong>devis<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>se categorical labels. Each of <strong>the</strong> designatedAges has, <strong>in</strong> fact, some govern<strong>in</strong>g attribute or attributesthat dist<strong>in</strong>guish it <strong>in</strong> a general way from all o<strong>the</strong>rs.Sometimes <strong>the</strong> contrast is ra<strong>the</strong>r an obscure one, as forexample that between <strong>the</strong> lyric verse of such representativepoets as Marvell and Landor; or aga<strong>in</strong>, it may beimmediately strik<strong>in</strong>g, as that between <strong>the</strong> narrativepoems of Shakespeare and Pope. But <strong>the</strong> dist<strong>in</strong>ctionsmay be ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed. Criticism on <strong>the</strong> whole is justifiedof its epochs.Never<strong>the</strong>less, we have sometimes to rem<strong>in</strong>d ourselvesthat here, after all, is noth<strong>in</strong>g but a critical convention,
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 97and that this organisation is not so much a necessityforced upon criticism by <strong>the</strong> art of poetry, as a convenienceelaborated by criticism for its own purposes.Seen <strong>in</strong> long perspective, poetry may be said with somereason to assume this carefully regulated appearance, butwhen we return to <strong>the</strong> actual study of <strong>the</strong> poetry itself,poet by poet, we f<strong>in</strong>d that <strong>the</strong> sharp l<strong>in</strong>es, to which wehave accustomed our critical thoughts, tend to readjust<strong>the</strong>mselves, to become blurred, and often to disappearaltoge<strong>the</strong>r. A very strik<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>stance of this is to be found<strong>in</strong> Wordsworth's poetic contact with <strong>the</strong> eighteenthcenturyschool of poetry aga<strong>in</strong>st which his critical attack<strong>was</strong> so memorably directed.. Noth<strong>in</strong>g, our critical habittells us, could be more decisively established than <strong>the</strong>revolt shown by <strong>the</strong> poetic practice of Lyrical Balladsaga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> manner of <strong>the</strong> preced<strong>in</strong>g age. And <strong>the</strong>n a reexam<strong>in</strong>ationof that book, quite properly termed epochmak<strong>in</strong>g,reveals a strange <strong>in</strong>timacy between <strong>the</strong> newgospeller and such marks of his confessed disapproval asMat<strong>the</strong>w Green and John Armstrong and James Thomsonand William Shenstone. Why, even so stiff and dry aformalist as William Somerville has to be allowed hisgra<strong>in</strong> of <strong>in</strong>fluence upon <strong>the</strong> dawn<strong>in</strong>g ardours of' <strong>the</strong> returnto nature'.It is, <strong>the</strong>refore, no bad th<strong>in</strong>g once <strong>in</strong> a while to fix uponsome quite arbitrarily chosen date, and see precisely what<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n happen<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> art to which our classificationsmay sometimes be too hastily applied. Those of us whocare for, and have taken some trouble to familiarise ourselveswith English poetry, if asked to def<strong>in</strong>e its condition<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> eighteen-seventies, would probably answer offhandthat it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> full tide of Victorianascendancy. Brown<strong>in</strong>g, Tennyson, Arnold, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne,Morris—<strong>the</strong>se are <strong>the</strong> figures that would come <strong>in</strong>stantlybefore us, dom<strong>in</strong>at<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> scene. The Victorian Age, weB 7
98 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwatershould readily remember, survived <strong>in</strong> its vigour until <strong>the</strong>exquisite but more tenuous manifestations of <strong>the</strong> 'n<strong>in</strong>etiesand <strong>the</strong> Yellow Book. In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>the</strong> poets of VigoStreet were at school, and <strong>the</strong> Victorian supremacy hadnot yet begun to dw<strong>in</strong>dle. Or so we should be likely toassert without reference to <strong>the</strong> book. But we should be<strong>in</strong>exact <strong>in</strong> do<strong>in</strong>g so. Let us take our bear<strong>in</strong>gs.In 1870, <strong>the</strong> Romantic Age, dimly surviv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>aged Wordsworth, who died <strong>in</strong> 1850, had passed <strong>in</strong>tomemory. Keats and Byron and Shelley were as far awayfrom <strong>the</strong> poetic realities of <strong>the</strong> time as are Morris andSw<strong>in</strong>burne from those of our own. But a great deal morehad happened than that. We f<strong>in</strong>d, surely with some surprise,that by 1870 <strong>the</strong> great Victorians had <strong>the</strong>mselvescome to <strong>the</strong> full assertion of <strong>the</strong>ir powers, and werealready <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> enjoyment of reputations that <strong>the</strong>ir laterwork would not enlarge. Forty <strong>year</strong>s had passed s<strong>in</strong>ce<strong>the</strong> publication of Tennyson's first book, and <strong>in</strong> 1850 InMemoriam, follow<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Poems of 1842 and The Pr<strong>in</strong>cess,established a fame that by 1870 <strong>was</strong> acknowledged by apublic such as <strong>in</strong> numbers and authority has seldom beenclaimed by any poet. Noth<strong>in</strong>g that Tennyson publishedafter that date, while much of it is of high excellence,widened his appeal or enlarged <strong>the</strong> merit of his work.Similarly, Robert Brown<strong>in</strong>g, with a less popular follow<strong>in</strong>g,had brought nearly forty <strong>year</strong>s of poetic productionto a splendid crown<strong>in</strong>g achievement <strong>in</strong> 1869 with <strong>the</strong>publication of The R<strong>in</strong>g and <strong>the</strong> Book. HenceforwardBalaustion and Hohenstiel-Schwangau and Fif<strong>in</strong>e andFerishtah and <strong>the</strong> rest of <strong>the</strong>m were to carry that unrest<strong>in</strong>gpsychological ardour <strong>in</strong>to a rich old age, but <strong>the</strong>ywere hardly to prove Brown<strong>in</strong>g a greater poet than he<strong>was</strong> known to be by 1870. At that date, too, Mat<strong>the</strong>wArnold's Strayed Reveller, his Empedocles, and his threevolumes of Poems had for some <strong>year</strong>s been before a public
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 99that <strong>was</strong> slow to recognise what, <strong>in</strong>deed, has not beenfully recognised even yet, that here <strong>was</strong> a poet whosework had <strong>in</strong> it less <strong>was</strong>te tissue than that of any of hiscontemporaries. William Morris's Defence of Guenevere,published <strong>in</strong> 1858, had been followed by his Jason <strong>in</strong> 1867,and <strong>in</strong> 1870 <strong>the</strong> last of <strong>the</strong> Earthly Paradise stories made<strong>the</strong>ir appearance. Here, it is true, <strong>was</strong> one of <strong>the</strong> greatfigures who <strong>was</strong> to add def<strong>in</strong>itely to his achievement <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> 'seventies, with Sigurd <strong>the</strong> Volsung which <strong>was</strong> published<strong>in</strong> 1876, and, <strong>in</strong> a lesser degree, with <strong>the</strong> Love isEnough of 1872. Sw<strong>in</strong>burne <strong>was</strong> prolific <strong>in</strong> our period,but noth<strong>in</strong>g that he <strong>the</strong>n wrote can be said to <strong>in</strong>crease hisstature as measured by Atalanta <strong>in</strong> Calydon (1865) andPoems and Ballads (1866). Dante Gabriel Rossetti didnot publish his first volume of poems until 1870, but <strong>the</strong>circumstances are well known <strong>in</strong> which he suppressed <strong>the</strong>work of <strong>the</strong> late 'forties and early 'fifties until that date.He, like Morris, made a substantial addition to his work<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, with Ballads and Sonnets published <strong>in</strong>1881, but he aga<strong>in</strong> had made his essential contribution toVictorian poetry before our decade opened.Coventry Patmore had completed The Angel <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>House by 1863, and its publication <strong>was</strong> followed by thatof <strong>the</strong> Odes <strong>in</strong> 1868, though a considerable elaboration of<strong>the</strong>se last <strong>was</strong> to appear <strong>in</strong> The Unknown Eros of 1877.Christ<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti with Gobl<strong>in</strong> Market <strong>in</strong> 1861 and ThePr<strong>in</strong>ce's Progress <strong>in</strong> 1866 had given ample proof of agenius that did not announce itself publicly <strong>in</strong> verse aga<strong>in</strong>until 1881, when A Pageant and O<strong>the</strong>r Poems conta<strong>in</strong>edsufficient justification of Professor Sa<strong>in</strong>tsbury's statementthat <strong>the</strong> ' astonish<strong>in</strong>gly true and new note of poetry'found <strong>in</strong> her earliest work <strong>was</strong> 'susta<strong>in</strong>ed, and <strong>in</strong>deeddeepened, varied, and sweetened' <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> later <strong>year</strong>s ofher life. But her gift of poetry <strong>was</strong> notably a secludedone, and though her not very frequent utterance <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>7-2
100 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater'seventies and after <strong>was</strong> usually of an exquisite tenderness,it cannot be said to have materially enlarged <strong>the</strong>Victorian achievement as a whole.While, <strong>the</strong>refore, it may be conceded that several of<strong>the</strong>se poets did a certa<strong>in</strong> amount of work that <strong>was</strong> worthyof <strong>the</strong>mselves after 1870, it can hardly be said of any oneof <strong>the</strong>m that his death at that date would seriously haveimpaired his reputation. And we may go beyond that andassert that if from 1870 <strong>the</strong> major voices of Victorianpoetry had been silent, <strong>the</strong> achievement and significanceof that poetry would have rema<strong>in</strong>ed very much whatit is.Before leav<strong>in</strong>g this tabulation, it may be worth whileto consider briefly <strong>the</strong> case of those lesser poets who madesome strik<strong>in</strong>g contribution of <strong>the</strong>ir own to <strong>the</strong> poetic ageof which those larger figures were <strong>the</strong> leaders. That fantasticfellow and notable poet, Richard Hengist <strong>Home</strong>,had published his remarkable 'farth<strong>in</strong>g epic' Orion <strong>in</strong>1843. Newman's Dream of Gerontius appeared <strong>in</strong> 1866,and William Cory's Ionica <strong>in</strong> 1858. William Barnes <strong>in</strong>1863 had completed <strong>the</strong> series of poems <strong>in</strong> Dorset dialectwhich he had begun to publish <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'forties; and RobertStephen Hawker, <strong>the</strong> Cornish poet, had been <strong>born</strong> as farback as 1803. The voluble but highly talented AlexanderSmith had published his last book of verse <strong>in</strong> 1861, andtwo <strong>year</strong>s later Jean Ingelow had scored a great and notunmerited popular success with her Poems, Fitzgerald'sOmar, though little noted at first, had appeared <strong>in</strong> 1859.F. W. H. Myers's Sa<strong>in</strong>t Paul (1867) <strong>was</strong> a characteristicexample of <strong>the</strong> current religious fervour express<strong>in</strong>g itself<strong>in</strong> ardent but somewhat nebulous verse. These poets, <strong>in</strong>a large variety of mood, completed <strong>the</strong> Victorian harmony,and <strong>the</strong>y too, as we see, had put forth <strong>the</strong>ir representativework by 1870. It may be added that GeorgeMeredith's Modern Love had been published <strong>in</strong> 1862, and
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 101it <strong>was</strong> not until well on <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'eighties that he appearedaga<strong>in</strong> as a poet; and that although <strong>in</strong> 1871 ThomasHardy <strong>was</strong> to come before <strong>the</strong> public as a novelist withDesperate Remedies, he <strong>was</strong> not to announce himself as apoet until towards <strong>the</strong> turn of <strong>the</strong> century.It is difficult to say at what distance of time criticismbeg<strong>in</strong>s to liberate itself from <strong>the</strong> mist of error and prejudicethat notoriously impedes contemporary judgment.Does any summary that has yet been made of <strong>the</strong> literaryachievement of <strong>the</strong> past thirty <strong>year</strong>s, or, say, <strong>the</strong> firstquarter of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century, bear <strong>the</strong> stamp ofauthority on its critical conclusions? Many <strong>in</strong>dividualwriters of that period have been carefully and wiselyassessed, but we may be sure that noth<strong>in</strong>g like a truebalance of <strong>the</strong> general account has yet been struck. Ifwe push our date back a decade or two, it rema<strong>in</strong>s doubtfulat least whe<strong>the</strong>r we can declare <strong>the</strong> truth with anycerta<strong>in</strong>ty of vision. A great deal has yet to be adjusted<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>al perspectives of a period when such poets asLionel Johnson, Mary Coleridge, Ernest Dowson, JohnDavidson, Francis Thompson, with o<strong>the</strong>rs who workedon well <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> new century—Alice Meynell, RobertBridges, William Watson and W. B. Yeats—were <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>full exercise of <strong>the</strong>ir powers. Some of <strong>the</strong>se poets werealready out of childhood <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, and here and<strong>the</strong>re we f<strong>in</strong>d one of <strong>the</strong>ir names on a title page bear<strong>in</strong>gso early a date; but <strong>the</strong>y belong representatively to <strong>the</strong>later time, and it is a time still too near to us for decisiverecords to be made <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> critical high court. That courtis curiously constituted. No s<strong>in</strong>gle m<strong>in</strong>d ever governs it,nor is it quite under popular control. The truth seems tobe that, while <strong>in</strong>dividual critics may be greatly atvariance <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir moods and tastes, <strong>the</strong>re comes a timewhen a given object of criticism is absolved of all <strong>the</strong>circumstances that provoke disagreement and stands out
102 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater<strong>in</strong> a positive clarity about which <strong>the</strong>re can no longer beany dispute even among <strong>the</strong> most conflict<strong>in</strong>g witnesses.It is, for example, safe to say that all critics of poetryto-day, however violent <strong>the</strong>y may be <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir differenceson contemporary topics, are agreed on <strong>the</strong> simple propositionthat Keats <strong>was</strong> a good poet—a view, it must beremembered, that <strong>was</strong> once hotly questioned by honestand reputable op<strong>in</strong>ion. There is, as I say, no pr<strong>in</strong>ciple bywhich we can decide as to <strong>the</strong> moment when this elucidat<strong>in</strong>gprocess takes place. We can only speak arbitrarily aseach <strong>in</strong>stance arises; and for our present purposes we maysay that, while <strong>the</strong> issues of <strong>the</strong> 'n<strong>in</strong>eties are still undecided,we ought, with <strong>the</strong> material before us, to be ableby now to reach some general agreement as to <strong>the</strong> poetryof <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.And it must be confessed that we shall reach it by wayof an exam<strong>in</strong>ation that affords no great excitement. Themajor Victorian impulse <strong>was</strong> wan<strong>in</strong>g, and <strong>the</strong> new poetsof its dy<strong>in</strong>g fall were for <strong>the</strong> most part expressly m<strong>in</strong>or.No one has, I th<strong>in</strong>k, ever given a satisfactory explanationof what is meant by a ' m<strong>in</strong>or poet', and we are each ofus apt to <strong>in</strong>vest <strong>the</strong> term more or less vaguely with amean<strong>in</strong>g of our own. For myself, I th<strong>in</strong>k of a m<strong>in</strong>or poetnot as one who does some small th<strong>in</strong>g of his own extremelywell, but as one who produces, often with considerablefertility, not from <strong>the</strong> resources of his ownnature but from <strong>the</strong> overflow, or perhaps <strong>the</strong> back<strong>was</strong>h,of a poetic movement with which he happens to be <strong>in</strong>contact. The greatest poets may be, <strong>in</strong>deed must be, <strong>in</strong>fluencedboth by tradition and by <strong>the</strong>ir contemporaries,but <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence is a condition and not <strong>the</strong> foundationof <strong>the</strong>ir art, while with <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or poet <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence isra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> source of his work than a subsequent condition.A m<strong>in</strong>or poet may be charm<strong>in</strong>gly gifted, but he has noorig<strong>in</strong>ality. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, an orig<strong>in</strong>al poet, who need
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 103by no means be a great poet, may work with<strong>in</strong> a very t<strong>in</strong>ycompass. John Banister Tabb, for example, is an orig<strong>in</strong>alpoet, though no one would claim that he is a great one.Similarly, Richard Barnefield, and Christopher Smart,and George Darley, and Robert Hawker and MaryColeridge are orig<strong>in</strong>al poets. It would be easy to namehalf-a-dozen poets now writ<strong>in</strong>g who, with a very unambitiousscope, have this orig<strong>in</strong>ality. It is not for us todecide whe<strong>the</strong>r we have or have not great poets amongus, but we certa<strong>in</strong>ly have orig<strong>in</strong>al poets whose claims togreatness are never likely to be advanced, and it is, <strong>in</strong>my view, a confusion of terms to call <strong>the</strong>m 'm<strong>in</strong>or'. Thatwe have our m<strong>in</strong>or poets too is abundantly evident.In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong> new poets who took up <strong>the</strong>Victorian note were mostly destitute of this sav<strong>in</strong>gorig<strong>in</strong>al grace. Verse writers like John Add<strong>in</strong>gtonSymonds and Philip Bourke Marston had talent andsensibility, <strong>the</strong>y came to no little mastery of <strong>the</strong>ir craft,and <strong>the</strong>y wrote a few th<strong>in</strong>gs that can still be read withpleasure. But <strong>the</strong>y were, first and last, m<strong>in</strong>or poets of <strong>the</strong>Victorian era. Their best has worthily secured for <strong>the</strong>ma modest place <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> great record which is Englishpoetry, and this is no small th<strong>in</strong>g to have atta<strong>in</strong>ed. But<strong>the</strong>ir best hardly ever fails to rem<strong>in</strong>d us of <strong>the</strong> men whohad done better. We look <strong>in</strong> va<strong>in</strong>, or nearly always <strong>in</strong>va<strong>in</strong>, for <strong>the</strong> personal accent that, however slight, maygive even <strong>the</strong> most traditional little poem a place <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>memory for ever. It is not that <strong>the</strong>se men are consciouslyimitat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>ir masters as an exercise. Among<strong>the</strong> hundreds of people who at that time, as at any o<strong>the</strong>r,were writ<strong>in</strong>g verse, only a very few could write it as wellas Symonds or Marston, who rem<strong>in</strong>d us that after allm<strong>in</strong>or poets may be poets. Never<strong>the</strong>less, <strong>the</strong> subjection,little though <strong>the</strong>y may have been aware of it, <strong>was</strong> onefrom which <strong>the</strong>y managed hardly any moments of escape.
104 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwaterAnd it is just by such moments that even <strong>the</strong> poets ofstrictly limited powers may prove <strong>the</strong>ir orig<strong>in</strong>ality.So far as <strong>the</strong> larger volume of poetry <strong>in</strong> England <strong>was</strong>concerned we f<strong>in</strong>d, <strong>the</strong>refore, that <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> atime somewhat hushed. And it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> hush ra<strong>the</strong>r ofexhaustion than of expectancy. Some of <strong>the</strong> Victorianmasters, as we have seen, were add<strong>in</strong>g an au<strong>the</strong>ntic leafhere and <strong>the</strong>re to <strong>the</strong>ir laurels; and already <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> anoccasional note that might, to an uncommonly shrewdappraiser, have told of a later generation that <strong>was</strong> to take<strong>the</strong> world with a new vigour. It is <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g to observe,although poetry is little enough concerned <strong>in</strong> this connection,that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fugitive literature of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies<strong>the</strong> name of Bernard Shaw first announced itself. But,<strong>in</strong> poetry, <strong>the</strong> period of our discussion marks, with a precisionthat is rare <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> annals of <strong>the</strong>se th<strong>in</strong>gs, <strong>the</strong> subsidenceof a spent wave. The decade saw <strong>the</strong> assuredarrival of no poet who <strong>was</strong> greatly to take up <strong>the</strong> succession.If English poetry had stopped short at 1880, itwould not have enlarged <strong>the</strong> boundaries of 1870. And,fur<strong>the</strong>r, if <strong>the</strong> poetry of 1890 down to our own time haddone noth<strong>in</strong>g beyond <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>dications of 1870-80, it wouldhave been an immeasurably less considerable th<strong>in</strong>g thanit is.There is, however, more to be claimed for our decadethan this, and it is to be claimed by virtue of a few poetswho, without enlarg<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> great Victorian tradition, orclearly prelud<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> achievement of our later age, madea personal contribution to <strong>the</strong> stock of orig<strong>in</strong>al Englishpoetry by moments of <strong>in</strong>spiration that have little tomark <strong>the</strong>m as belong<strong>in</strong>g to this age more than ano<strong>the</strong>r.They are mostly lyric moments, and come of a fortunatedispensation that has always waited on English poetry,produc<strong>in</strong>g some grace of song here or <strong>the</strong> graver numbersof an unexpected philosophic seclusion <strong>the</strong>re—<strong>the</strong> lyrics
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 105of a Richard Watson Dixon or a James ('B. V.') Thomson'sCity of Dreadful Night.So that <strong>the</strong> chief <strong>in</strong>terest of English poetry <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies is to be found not <strong>in</strong> any strik<strong>in</strong>g developmentor preparation <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> larger activity of <strong>the</strong> art, but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>good th<strong>in</strong>gs that, it might almost seem, have drifted <strong>in</strong>to<strong>the</strong> time by chance, and from nowhere <strong>in</strong> particular.F<strong>in</strong>d<strong>in</strong>g our 'seventies to be of very little profit by <strong>the</strong>methods of comparative criticism, we may yet part from<strong>the</strong>m not too discontented with a little anthology <strong>in</strong>our m<strong>in</strong>ds of those th<strong>in</strong>gs that carry <strong>the</strong>ir own virtuepla<strong>in</strong>ly marked upon <strong>the</strong>m, and make no pretence beyondit. They do not extend <strong>the</strong> tradition, and <strong>the</strong>y donot open up new avenues for future effort. They aremerely good poems, touched by a breath of spontaneitythat keeps <strong>the</strong>m fresh and ga<strong>in</strong>ly after fifty <strong>year</strong>s. Wemay choose <strong>the</strong>m without order<strong>in</strong>g, as <strong>the</strong>y come to ourhand. Here is Dixon, with his exquisite Song:The fea<strong>the</strong>rs of <strong>the</strong> willowAre half of <strong>the</strong>m grown yellowAbove <strong>the</strong> swell<strong>in</strong>g stream;And ragged are <strong>the</strong> bushes,And rusty now <strong>the</strong> rushes,And wild <strong>the</strong> clouded gleam.The thistle now is older,His stalk beg<strong>in</strong>s to moulder,His head is white as snow;The branches all are barer,The l<strong>in</strong>net's song is rarer,The rob<strong>in</strong> pipeth now.We may see <strong>in</strong> that someth<strong>in</strong>g of Dixon's early Pre-Raphaelite associations; or we may agree with GerardHopk<strong>in</strong>s that <strong>in</strong> such work <strong>the</strong>re is a k<strong>in</strong>ship with Wordsworthsuch as has not been shown by any o<strong>the</strong>r later poet;but <strong>the</strong>re is really little more to say of it than has beensaid by Dr Bridges: ' I should say that <strong>the</strong> dest<strong>in</strong>y of thispoem is that it will always be found <strong>in</strong> any collection of
106 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater<strong>the</strong> best English lyrics\ It is true that this actual poem<strong>was</strong> published six <strong>year</strong>s before our decade began, butDixon went on writ<strong>in</strong>g verse of <strong>the</strong> same tender andsubtly personal quality through <strong>the</strong> 'seventies and, <strong>in</strong>deed,for many <strong>year</strong>s towards his death <strong>in</strong> 1900. Hisoutput <strong>was</strong> small; Dr Bridges <strong>in</strong> his edition of Dixon'sPoems gives only sixty pieces drawn from a work<strong>in</strong>gperiod of over thirty <strong>year</strong>s. But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies his gift<strong>was</strong> at its maturity, and <strong>in</strong> those <strong>year</strong>s its occasionalexercise added much of <strong>the</strong> best to his fastidiously restra<strong>in</strong>edbody of work.Lord de Tabley <strong>was</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r poet who, hav<strong>in</strong>g publishedverse—to <strong>the</strong> extent of six volumes—before 1870,cont<strong>in</strong>ued after that date to add at <strong>in</strong>tervals to his mostdist<strong>in</strong>guished poems. He wrote more freely than Dixon,but with a less constant excellence. Though he has to hiscredit one longer piece, <strong>the</strong> verse drama Philoctetes published<strong>in</strong> 1866, which is not unworthy of comparison with<strong>the</strong> major poems of his greater contemporaries, his lyricaltalent <strong>was</strong> of very variable merit, and his Collected Poemsneed careful sift<strong>in</strong>g before <strong>the</strong>y are relieved of tedium.But his lucky moments, if rare, had <strong>the</strong> remote and timelessquality of which we have spoken, and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesmany of <strong>the</strong>se were bear<strong>in</strong>g fruit that <strong>was</strong> to be ga<strong>the</strong>red<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> two volumes of 1893 and 1895. Misrepresentationsays for itself all that is necessary:Peace, <strong>the</strong>re is noth<strong>in</strong>g more for men to speak;A larger wisdom than our lip's decrees.Of that dumb mouth no longer reason seek,No censure reaches that eternal peace,And that immortal ease.Believe <strong>the</strong>m not that would disturb <strong>the</strong> endWith earth's <strong>in</strong>vidious comment, idly meant.Speak and have done thy evil; for my friendIs gone beyond all human discontent,And wisely went.
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 107Say what you will and have your sneer and go.You see <strong>the</strong> specks, we only heed <strong>the</strong> fruitOf a great life, whose truth—men hate truth so—No lukewarm age of compromise could suit.Laugh and be mute!In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies Thomas Edward Brown, <strong>the</strong> Cliftonschoolmaster, <strong>was</strong> writ<strong>in</strong>g his Fo'c'sle Yarns, and o<strong>the</strong>rverses <strong>in</strong> which a schoolmaster's m<strong>in</strong>d <strong>was</strong> contemplat<strong>in</strong>gnature and rustic character without pedantry. Slight,light th<strong>in</strong>gs many of <strong>the</strong>m, but nearly always sparkl<strong>in</strong>gwith <strong>the</strong>ir own lyric freshness. Here is a snatch of song,dated 1878—Vespers:O blackbird, what a boy you are.How you do go it!Blow<strong>in</strong>g your bugle to that one sweet star—How you do blow it!And does she hear you, blackbird boy, so far?Or is it <strong>was</strong>ted breath?" Good Lord! she is so brightTo-night!"The blackbird saith.Arthur Edward O'Shaughnessy, who died <strong>in</strong> 1881 at<strong>the</strong> age of thirty-seven, published his Epic of Women <strong>in</strong>1870, Lays of France <strong>in</strong> 1872, and Music and Moonlight<strong>in</strong> 1874. In <strong>the</strong> first and last of <strong>the</strong>se he displayed anorig<strong>in</strong>al talent that expressed itself with great technicalsubtlety, but after a brief creative period he lapsed <strong>in</strong>to<strong>the</strong> silences of <strong>the</strong> British Museum. How sensitive he <strong>was</strong><strong>in</strong> ear and mood may be seen <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Song:Has summer come without <strong>the</strong> rose,Or left <strong>the</strong> bird beh<strong>in</strong>d?Is <strong>the</strong> blue changed above <strong>the</strong>e,O world! or am I bl<strong>in</strong>d?Will you change every flower that grows,Or only change this spot,Where she who said, I love <strong>the</strong>e,Now says, I love <strong>the</strong>e not?
108 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwaterThe skies seem'd true above <strong>the</strong>e,The rose true on <strong>the</strong> tree;The bird seem'd true <strong>the</strong> summer through,But all proved false to me.World! is <strong>the</strong>re one good th<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> you,Life, love, or death—or what?S<strong>in</strong>ce lips that sang, I love <strong>the</strong>e,Have said, I love <strong>the</strong>e not?I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong> sun's kiss will scarce fallInto one flower's gold cup;I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong> bird will miss me,And give <strong>the</strong> summer up.O sweet place! desolate <strong>in</strong> tallWild grass, have you forgotHow her lips loved to kiss me,Now that <strong>the</strong>y kiss me not.Be false or fair above me,Come back with any face,Summer!—do I care what you do?You cannot change one place—The grass, <strong>the</strong> leaves, <strong>the</strong> earth, <strong>the</strong> dew,The grave I make <strong>the</strong> spot—Here, where she used to love me,Here, where she loves me not.James Thomson's City of Dreadful Night <strong>was</strong> first published,<strong>in</strong> a journal, <strong>in</strong> 1874. Thomson <strong>was</strong> a poet of veryuncerta<strong>in</strong> atta<strong>in</strong>ment. His shorter lyrical pieces areseldom if ever better than second-rate. It is not that <strong>the</strong>yare weak imitations of o<strong>the</strong>r men's work, but that <strong>the</strong>ycome from an <strong>in</strong>sufficient impulse. Many admirablepoets have suffered from misfortune, ill-health, and evendefects of habit and character, and have yet managed toreserve for <strong>the</strong>ir poetry some energy uncontam<strong>in</strong>ated by<strong>the</strong>se <strong>in</strong>fluences. Thomson <strong>was</strong> less just to himself, andwrote much of his verse when his hold upon experience<strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>firm. The consequence is a certa<strong>in</strong> triviality ofspirit, which leaves his lyrics for <strong>the</strong> most part povertystrickenand tame. And yet that <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> him, how-
The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 109ever loosely it <strong>was</strong> employed, a poetic power of deeporig<strong>in</strong>ality, The City of Dreadful Night puts beyondquestion. There is, perhaps, no long poem <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> periodunder consideration that is more clearly marked by <strong>in</strong>dividualgenius. The accomplishment is uneven, <strong>the</strong> designra<strong>the</strong>r precarious, and <strong>the</strong> pervad<strong>in</strong>g gloom of <strong>the</strong>poem often seems to lack <strong>the</strong> brac<strong>in</strong>g air of tragic art.Never<strong>the</strong>less, <strong>the</strong> work is made memorable by fitfulgleams of <strong>in</strong>tense though, as Professor Sa<strong>in</strong>tsbury hasobserved, somewhat s<strong>in</strong>ister emotion. With all its defects,it could no more have been written by anyone butits author than <strong>the</strong> Song to David could have been writtenby anyone but Christopher Smart. It is <strong>in</strong> many respectsan unsatisfactory poem to read as a whole, and yet itsmerits can be realised <strong>in</strong> no o<strong>the</strong>r way. It would be uselessto support by brief quotation <strong>the</strong> op<strong>in</strong>ion that TheCity of Dreadful Night is a very decided asset <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> poetryof <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.There rema<strong>in</strong>s only to mention a few poets whosenames, for one reason or ano<strong>the</strong>r, cannot be quite disregarded<strong>in</strong> tak<strong>in</strong>g leave of our subject. William All<strong>in</strong>gham,whose epical Laurence Bloomfield <strong>in</strong> Ireland, published<strong>in</strong> 1864, is a meritable poem of which Dr Johnson mighthave said, as he did of Congreve's early novel, that hewould ra<strong>the</strong>r praise than read it, wrote freely throughour period. His lyrics, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> celebrated fairypiece, Up <strong>the</strong> airy mounta<strong>in</strong>, have a grace and sometimesa poignancy that hold <strong>the</strong> attention, but <strong>the</strong>y hardly everachieve <strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>ality of which we have spoken. ' Sentimental' is a dangerous word, and a snare to criticism, butAll<strong>in</strong>gham is a poet who almost compels <strong>the</strong> use of it.But we may at least allow that he turned sentiment tovery pretty uses, and his gift may be epitomised <strong>in</strong> afragment that could be disliked only by a very grudg<strong>in</strong>gtemper:
110 John Dr<strong>in</strong>kwaterFour ducks on a pond,A grass-bank beyond,A blue sky of spr<strong>in</strong>g,White clouds on <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>g;What a little th<strong>in</strong>gTo remember for <strong>year</strong>s—To remember with tears.In 1879 Sir Edw<strong>in</strong> Arnold published The Light of Asia.It is an exposition <strong>in</strong> narrative verse of Buddhist philosophy,runn<strong>in</strong>g to some 5000 l<strong>in</strong>es, and probably f<strong>in</strong>ds asfew readers to-day as Philip James Bailey's Festus, aneven longer philosophical poem of an earlier generation.And yet, if <strong>the</strong>re were time for everyth<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong> perusal ofArnold's poem would not be among our <strong>was</strong>ted employments.I cannot speak of it with any critical certa<strong>in</strong>ty;I happened to read it young, and I still reta<strong>in</strong>, especiallyfrom such <strong>in</strong>terludes as ' We are <strong>the</strong> voices of <strong>the</strong> wander<strong>in</strong>gw<strong>in</strong>d', a pleas<strong>in</strong>g impression of somewhat drowsy butwell-susta<strong>in</strong>ed romance.In conclusion, we may note that Robert Louis Stevenson,William Ernest Henley, Edmund Gosse, RobertBridges and Alice Meynell were of grown <strong>year</strong>s when ourdecade began, as were John Davidson, Francis Thompsonand William Watson by <strong>the</strong> time it closed. The names ofGosse, Bridges and Alice Meynell all appeared on titlepages <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir maturity <strong>the</strong>se poetsbelong to a later period. The account we have had togive is not a very <strong>in</strong>spir<strong>in</strong>g one; but it is not without<strong>in</strong>terest as a passage <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> larger story of English verse.
§6The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'SeventieswBy V. SACKVILLE-WESTHEN I <strong>was</strong> first asked to prepare a paper for thisSociety on <strong>the</strong> women poets of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, I accepted<strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>vitation with a cheerful rashness. Such fem<strong>in</strong>ismas is latent <strong>in</strong> me—and I suppose a certa<strong>in</strong> degree offem<strong>in</strong>ism must be latent <strong>in</strong> all women, however reasonable—<strong>was</strong>flattered by this assumption that severalwomen, and not Christ<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti alone, had been engaged<strong>in</strong> writ<strong>in</strong>g poetry <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. That period, soexcit<strong>in</strong>g for <strong>the</strong> free male, so suffocat<strong>in</strong>g, so matrimonial,for <strong>the</strong> still comparatively enslaved female, perhaps mightprove <strong>the</strong> genesis of <strong>the</strong> literary woman's emancipationafter all? Women with a taste for literature, I reflected,had already been given a good lead: Jane Austen, <strong>the</strong>Brontes, and Mrs Brown<strong>in</strong>g lay beh<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong>m; demure anddeadly, tragic and vehement, delicate and sentimental,<strong>the</strong>y had persevered with <strong>the</strong>ir work under conditions ofvary<strong>in</strong>g difficulty. Jane Austen, as we know, had beenobliged to write uncomfortably <strong>in</strong> a corner of <strong>the</strong> commonsitt<strong>in</strong>g-room at Steventon, with chatter go<strong>in</strong>g on all roundher, compelled to keep one eye open <strong>in</strong> vigilance lest anyoneshould approach to see what she <strong>was</strong> do<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>in</strong> whichcase <strong>the</strong> cover of <strong>the</strong> blott<strong>in</strong>g-book must hastily be shutdown—scarcely an ideal system for writ<strong>in</strong>g a novel; <strong>the</strong>Brontes, up at Haworth, ill, cold, harassed by poverty,domestic duties, and a half-bl<strong>in</strong>d fa<strong>the</strong>r with a violenttemper, discouraged by publishers, decid<strong>in</strong>g to concealunder ambiguous pseudonyms <strong>the</strong> horrid truth that <strong>the</strong>y
112 V. Sackville-Westwere women—<strong>the</strong> Brontes likewise had <strong>in</strong>sisted on overcom<strong>in</strong>gall opposition. Mrs Brown<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>in</strong>deed, who by1870 had been laid for n<strong>in</strong>e <strong>year</strong>s <strong>in</strong> an honoured grave,had travelled a smoo<strong>the</strong>r path <strong>in</strong> pursuit of literature.She had been taught Greek; her fa<strong>the</strong>r had been a manof culture; and she had married a poet. But even she hadhad her troubles. She had been an <strong>in</strong>valid, and <strong>in</strong> order tomarry her poet she had been obliged to run away. All<strong>the</strong>se reflections encouraged me to th<strong>in</strong>k that <strong>the</strong> firsthalf and <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century had seen<strong>the</strong> true beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of women's desire to express <strong>the</strong>mselves<strong>in</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r ways than <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> management of a home,<strong>the</strong> bear<strong>in</strong>g and upbr<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g of children, and <strong>the</strong> humbledevotion to one ail-but godlike man. By 1870,I thought,<strong>the</strong> movement must have been well on its way.There <strong>was</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r encourag<strong>in</strong>g consideration. Theliterary women of <strong>the</strong> early and middle n<strong>in</strong>eteenthcentury were quite ord<strong>in</strong>ary women <strong>in</strong> one way: <strong>the</strong>ywere morally respectable. No one had ever brea<strong>the</strong>d aword aga<strong>in</strong>st Mrs Hemans, or aga<strong>in</strong>st Adelaide AnneProctor. Now <strong>in</strong> a previous outburst of literary activityamong women, a hundred and fifty <strong>year</strong>s or so earlier, <strong>the</strong>same could not be said. Nei<strong>the</strong>r Mrs Aphra Behn, norMrs Mary de la Riviere Manley, nor Mrs Eliza Heywood,cared a straw about <strong>the</strong>ir virtue, nor were <strong>the</strong>ir workssuch as might be left ly<strong>in</strong>g about on a Victorian draw<strong>in</strong>groomtable. You may remember that Dorothy Os<strong>born</strong>e,writ<strong>in</strong>g to Sir William Temple, has some very sharpth<strong>in</strong>gs to say of women who use <strong>the</strong>ir pens for o<strong>the</strong>r purposesthan that of writ<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong>ir betro<strong>the</strong>d. If I am notmistaken, she goes so far as to use <strong>the</strong> word 'monster'.But by <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century that attitude appeared tohave changed. The po<strong>in</strong>t <strong>was</strong> not perhaps a very importantone, except <strong>in</strong> so far as it seemed to prove thatladies whose ideas as to moral conduct were perfectly
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 113correct, now considered <strong>the</strong> pursuit of literature compatiblewith a virtuous life; <strong>the</strong>y could take up a penwithout first mak<strong>in</strong>g a gesture of defiance; literature, <strong>in</strong>fact, <strong>was</strong> not to be thought unwomanly. It <strong>was</strong> possiblefor a woman to be an author, and yet <strong>in</strong> no way to departfrom <strong>the</strong> high Victorian standard of bashfulness. Obviously,this enlarged <strong>the</strong> field. If literature <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>eworld <strong>was</strong> no longer to be limited to a few poor rakes,whose almost avowed object <strong>was</strong> to scandalise <strong>the</strong> menas much as <strong>the</strong>y possibly could, or to a few great ladies,such as <strong>the</strong> Duchess of Newcastle, whose social positionallowed <strong>the</strong>m to write letters, diaries, and even biographieswith impunity, <strong>the</strong>n clearly <strong>the</strong> daughters of <strong>the</strong>great middle classes and of <strong>the</strong> gentry might swarmforward as recruits to <strong>the</strong> world of letters. And swarm<strong>the</strong>y did. They wrote fiction, <strong>the</strong>y wrote poetry: it <strong>was</strong>perhaps not all of it very good fiction or very goodpoetry; but <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> th<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> that <strong>the</strong>y wrote. Theproverbial ear which is keen enough to hear <strong>the</strong> grassgrow, might <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century have been keenenough to hear also all over England <strong>the</strong> gentle scratch<strong>in</strong>gof a myriad fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e pens <strong>in</strong> boudoir and arbour.But it is time for me to stop generalis<strong>in</strong>g about <strong>the</strong>n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century, and to come down to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.What <strong>was</strong> happen<strong>in</strong>g to women? for, after all, one cannotbeg<strong>in</strong> to consider <strong>the</strong> poets until one has looked round at<strong>the</strong> general situation. In order to f<strong>in</strong>d out what <strong>was</strong>happen<strong>in</strong>g, we will not go to any learned work; no, wewill simply open an old volume of Punch. Instantly arustl<strong>in</strong>g of petticoats fills <strong>the</strong> air. 'The Chignon atCambridge', we read; and <strong>the</strong>n we remember: of course,Girton came <strong>in</strong>to be<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> 1869; Newnham came two<strong>year</strong>s later; and two colleges at Oxford for women—Somerville and Lady Margaret Hall—<strong>in</strong> 1879. Mr Punchtried his best to be reasonable: but it is evident that heB 8
114 V. Sackville-Westdid not approve; and Mr Punch represents <strong>the</strong> averageEnglishman much more truly than does John Bull, forJohn Bull is a fixed type, whereas Mr Punch is a mirrorthat perpetually shifts <strong>the</strong> angle of reflection, constantthough <strong>the</strong> surface of that mirror rema<strong>in</strong>s.The woman of <strong>the</strong> future! she'll be deeply read, that's certa<strong>in</strong>,With all <strong>the</strong> edueation ga<strong>in</strong>ed at Newnham or at Girton;Or if she turns to classic tomes, a literary roamer,She'll give you bits of Horace or sonorous l<strong>in</strong>es from <strong>Home</strong>r.Thus said Punch; and added,Oh pedants of <strong>the</strong>se later days, who go on undiscern<strong>in</strong>gTo overload a woman's bra<strong>in</strong>s and cram our girls with learn<strong>in</strong>g,You'll make a woman half a man, <strong>the</strong> souls of parents vex<strong>in</strong>g,To f<strong>in</strong>d that all <strong>the</strong> gentle sex this process is unsex<strong>in</strong>g.Thus Punch compla<strong>in</strong>ed; and compla<strong>in</strong>ed perhaps all <strong>the</strong>louder because <strong>the</strong> fashion and necessity of <strong>the</strong> day hadcut out one of his ribs and fashioned a Mrs Punch—aMrs Punch, who, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> person of a Miss Matilda Betham-Edwards, had begun to <strong>in</strong>terfere <strong>in</strong> his paper as early as1868, and who had already ventured so far as to call mana ' despot to whom woman is a m<strong>in</strong>ister<strong>in</strong>g slave'. Womenwere really becom<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>tolerable. The Married Women'sProperty Act <strong>was</strong> a serious topic of conversation; <strong>the</strong>Fem<strong>in</strong>ist Movement, and, with it, <strong>the</strong> woman's vote, hadcalled for Mr Punch's notice as far back as 1857; Huxley,<strong>the</strong> great Professor Huxley, <strong>was</strong> actually lectur<strong>in</strong>g towomen <strong>in</strong> South Kens<strong>in</strong>gton <strong>in</strong> 1870; certa<strong>in</strong> fanaticsma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed that women ought to be admitted to <strong>the</strong> Bar;women were tak<strong>in</strong>g to games: to croquet and archery—well, that <strong>was</strong> just admissible; archery <strong>was</strong> a pretty sport,that <strong>in</strong> its gesture displayed <strong>the</strong> figure to its best advantage,and croquet gave to <strong>the</strong> dear creatures a generousopportunity to cheat, and to Mr Punch <strong>the</strong> opportunityfor a stand<strong>in</strong>g joke—so far so good, but now lawn-tennis<strong>was</strong> threatened with fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e competition, and even
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 115bicycl<strong>in</strong>g, though Mr Punch <strong>was</strong> sure bicycl<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> apastime utterly unsuited to <strong>the</strong> gentler sex. And r<strong>in</strong>komaniatoo—<strong>the</strong> daughters of <strong>the</strong> middle classes gyratedwildly, with wheels on <strong>the</strong>ir feet much as Mercury hadw<strong>in</strong>gs on his ankles, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> arms of <strong>the</strong> sons of <strong>the</strong> middleclasses with whom <strong>the</strong> barest <strong>in</strong>troduction had brought<strong>the</strong>m toge<strong>the</strong>r. And women wrote—but compared with<strong>the</strong>se athletics, and compared with this Higher Education,a copy of verses <strong>was</strong> surely a harmless th<strong>in</strong>g? Let<strong>the</strong>m write by all means; let <strong>the</strong>m write even novels—though Mr Punch must have a dig at Miss RhodaBroughton—<strong>the</strong> wield<strong>in</strong>g of a pen, at any rate, did notdevelop <strong>the</strong> muscles of <strong>the</strong> forearm or necessarily flatten<strong>the</strong> chest. The whole agitation <strong>was</strong> deplorable; but ifwomen must assert <strong>the</strong>mselves at last, after centuries ofconvenient though perhaps ra<strong>the</strong>r humiliat<strong>in</strong>g subjection,<strong>the</strong>n possibly fiction and poetry were less offensive formsof self-expression than Higher Education and bicycl<strong>in</strong>g,which could have noth<strong>in</strong>g but a disastrous effect oncookery and <strong>the</strong> comfort of man.But now I would ask you to observe what curiouscreatures poets are, how little advantage <strong>the</strong>y take ofopportunities offered <strong>the</strong>m, and how remote <strong>the</strong>y livefrom <strong>the</strong> busy world and its do<strong>in</strong>gs. Here we are <strong>in</strong> 1870,at <strong>the</strong> very beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of all this stirr<strong>in</strong>g about women'srights, and woman's equality, with Professor Huxleylectur<strong>in</strong>g to women <strong>in</strong> South Kens<strong>in</strong>gton, and Miss RhodaBroughton com<strong>in</strong>g up as a flower, and women putt<strong>in</strong>g on<strong>the</strong> gown of a Bachelor of Arts, and a thousand arrowsbe<strong>in</strong>g loosed at <strong>the</strong> bullseye—by women—and a thousandcroquet balls be<strong>in</strong>g tapped through <strong>the</strong> hoop—by women—and a Mrs Punch <strong>in</strong>trud<strong>in</strong>g on Mr Punch's paper—which is as outrageous as a woman walk<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to a man'sclub—and Miss Florence Night<strong>in</strong>gale terroris<strong>in</strong>g SidneyHerbert, and married women stick<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong>ir own8-2
116 V. Sackville-Westproperty, <strong>in</strong>stead of yield<strong>in</strong>g it up ipso facto to <strong>the</strong>irhusbands, and women beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g to th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong>y can<strong>in</strong>terfere with <strong>the</strong> vote and <strong>the</strong> British Constitution, andMiss Charlotte Bronte hav<strong>in</strong>g <strong>year</strong>s ago <strong>in</strong>duced <strong>the</strong>seventh publisher to accept <strong>the</strong> manuscript of The Professor,and Miss Barrett hav<strong>in</strong>g run away <strong>year</strong>s ago withMr Brown<strong>in</strong>g, and Mrs Emily Pfeiffer writ<strong>in</strong>gPeace to <strong>the</strong> odalisque, whose morn<strong>in</strong>g gloryIs vanish<strong>in</strong>g, to live alone <strong>in</strong> story;Firm <strong>in</strong> her place, a dull-robed figure standsWith wistful eyes, and earnest, grappl<strong>in</strong>g hands,—Oh woman! sacrifice may still be th<strong>in</strong>e,More fruitful than <strong>the</strong> souls ye did resignTo sated masters; from your lives so real,Will shape itself a pure and high idealThat ye will seek with sad, wide-open eyes...all this, and what are <strong>the</strong> women poets do<strong>in</strong>g about it?The answer is: Noth<strong>in</strong>g at all. Poets are usually supposedto be <strong>in</strong> advance of <strong>the</strong>ir time; and women,especially, are supposed to travel by short cuts; but if <strong>the</strong>evidence of <strong>the</strong> women poets of <strong>the</strong> eighteen-seventies isto be believed, nei<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong>se two platitudes has a gra<strong>in</strong>of truth <strong>in</strong> it. Truth compels me to confess that <strong>the</strong> womenpoets of <strong>the</strong> eighteen-seventies, though numerous andprolific, are exceed<strong>in</strong>gly dull. This <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> conclusion atwhich I arrived after read<strong>in</strong>g a large number of volumes.I may say that I read very little criticism, contemporaryor o<strong>the</strong>rwise; I read <strong>the</strong> authors <strong>the</strong>mselves; I wanted todr<strong>in</strong>k of <strong>the</strong> stream at its source. I read, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> hopes ofmak<strong>in</strong>g a discovery. But <strong>the</strong> only discovery I made,frankly—which <strong>was</strong> Mary Coleridge—I couldn't fit <strong>in</strong>toour date. So how am I to go on, hav<strong>in</strong>g made this confession?and what am I to say to you? You will compla<strong>in</strong>that you have been brought here under false pretences;and unless I allow myself to be pushed back on toChrist<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti, who is too great and too famous to
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 117come with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> scope of this paper, your compla<strong>in</strong>t willbe justified. So before you set me and my paper down asa complete fraud, may I say someth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> a general wayabout women and poetry? bas<strong>in</strong>g it all, to make it moreadmissible, on women and poetry <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies?First of all—and this is important—what men werewrit<strong>in</strong>g poetry <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies? The answer comes quickand obvious: Tennyson, Brown<strong>in</strong>g, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Rossetti,William Morris, James Thomson; no need to mention anym<strong>in</strong>or names. It is clear from <strong>the</strong>se names alone thatpoetry <strong>in</strong> England <strong>was</strong> alive. Pre-Raphaelitism, howevermuch out of fashion it may be to-day, and however unpopularcliques and coteries may be with those who standoutside <strong>the</strong>m, existed as an armed force <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> strongholdof Chelsea, a ga<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>g of personalities to which even <strong>in</strong>our irreverent age we must still take off our hats. Awoman liv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, <strong>the</strong>n, stood a good chance:poetry <strong>in</strong> England <strong>was</strong> nei<strong>the</strong>r flagg<strong>in</strong>g nor stale; womens<strong>in</strong>ce <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> century had set an example ofliterary activity; and, above all, <strong>the</strong> general emancipationof women, though resentfully derided by Mr Punch,had already progressed so far that he could no longerafford to ignore it. Notoriously, <strong>the</strong> English always turna danger <strong>in</strong>to a joke. They have a <strong>the</strong>ory that thatsystem dim<strong>in</strong>ishes <strong>the</strong> danger. Therefore, if Punch madejokes about <strong>the</strong> emancipation of women, it meant thatEnglish manhood at large <strong>was</strong> alarmed. I have alreadyadmitted, however, that <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no cause for alarm on<strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> poets: <strong>the</strong>ir position <strong>was</strong> not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> leastdegree challenged by <strong>the</strong> poetesses. Perhaps this accountsfor <strong>the</strong> extravagant praises lavished on <strong>the</strong> poetesses bysome of <strong>the</strong> reviewers; Hartley Coleridge for <strong>in</strong>stance,review<strong>in</strong>g Mrs Clive's poems <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Quarterly—though alittle earlier, to be exact, than our date—said of <strong>the</strong>mthat '<strong>the</strong> stanzas pr<strong>in</strong>ted by us <strong>in</strong> italics are, <strong>in</strong> our
118 V. Sackville-Westjudgment, worthy of any one of our greatest poets <strong>in</strong> hishappiest moments', and Darw<strong>in</strong>, who had not opened avolume of verse for fifteen <strong>year</strong>s, on <strong>the</strong> recommendationof Professor Ray Lankester read with enthusiasm <strong>the</strong>whole of Keynotes by Mrs Louisa Guggenberger. The menwere generous, and <strong>the</strong>y could afford to be. But <strong>the</strong>irgenerosity makes <strong>the</strong> women's lack of response all <strong>the</strong>more surpris<strong>in</strong>g; and to those who like to believe thatwomen can hold <strong>the</strong>ir own aga<strong>in</strong>st men, all <strong>the</strong> moredistress<strong>in</strong>g. Here were women, whose sisters were go<strong>in</strong>gforward <strong>in</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r branches; here were women with <strong>the</strong>profession of letters open to <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> all respectability;encouraged, <strong>in</strong>deed, not only by <strong>the</strong> reviewers but by <strong>the</strong>very men <strong>the</strong>y had married—did not Mrs Emily Pfeiffertell Mr Japp that she regarded it as 'a duty to <strong>the</strong>memory of her husband to do all that <strong>in</strong> her lay tocultivate still fur<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> literary gift <strong>in</strong> which he hadso firmly believed'?—yet <strong>the</strong>y could produce noth<strong>in</strong>gbetter than ponderous texts or verses worthy of a keepsakealbum.I am bound to add that <strong>the</strong>y produced <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> enormousquantities. The list of poetesses who were busy <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> 'seventies is really formidable, and justifies ProfessorSa<strong>in</strong>tsbury's remark that <strong>the</strong> latter part of <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenthcentury <strong>was</strong> more prolific of applicants for <strong>the</strong> position ofTenth Muse than <strong>the</strong> whole earlier range of Englishliterature. Cecil Frances Alexander, Carol<strong>in</strong>e Clive, ElizaCook, Isa Craig, Anne Evans, Dora Greenwell, HarrietHamilton-K<strong>in</strong>g, Isabella Harwood, Jean Ingelow, VioletFane, D<strong>in</strong>ah Craik, Emily Pfeiffer, Menella Bute Smedley,Louisa Shore, Augusta Webster—<strong>the</strong>se are only a few of<strong>the</strong> names that appear <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> biographies and anthologies.Professor Sa<strong>in</strong>tsbury, true to <strong>the</strong> mascul<strong>in</strong>e tradition ofgenerosity, remarks that a number of <strong>the</strong>m are ' entitledto challenge a place with <strong>the</strong> mascul<strong>in</strong>e m<strong>in</strong>orities'. This
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 119may be so; his estimate does not alter, but ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>creases,<strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong>ir value is of a pretty low order.As well be frank about it. There is scarcely a voice among<strong>the</strong> whole bevy of <strong>the</strong>m dist<strong>in</strong>guishable from ano<strong>the</strong>rvoice. It is not until we come to Alice Meynell's Preludes—and who now th<strong>in</strong>ks of Alice Meynell as a poet of <strong>the</strong>'seventies?—that we can feel any revival of literary pride<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> sex.Indeed one is tempted to ask, as one wades throughIsabella and Menella, whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> any <strong>in</strong>herentreason why those women should not have written betterpoetry. I came across a crush<strong>in</strong>g phrase, written by adist<strong>in</strong>guished man of letters a propos of no less a personthan Christ<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti. 'Everywhere else', he says, <strong>the</strong>exception be<strong>in</strong>g Gobl<strong>in</strong> Market,' she is, like most poetesses,purely subjective and <strong>in</strong> no respect creative'. That, Ithought, <strong>was</strong> a hard say<strong>in</strong>g; but I wondered how muchtruth <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> it, not as applied to Christ<strong>in</strong>a, but to<strong>the</strong> women poets as a general pr<strong>in</strong>ciple. These women <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> 'seventies, for <strong>in</strong>stance, with <strong>the</strong>ir elegant or devotionalpieces; <strong>the</strong>ir wordy and portentous moralis<strong>in</strong>g;<strong>the</strong>ir dreary narrative poems; <strong>the</strong>ir descriptive pieceswhich rem<strong>in</strong>ded one of noth<strong>in</strong>g so much as a <strong>was</strong>hy and<strong>in</strong>different water-colour—what <strong>was</strong> essentially wrongwith <strong>the</strong>m? Was it lack of education? No, for educationnever made a poet. Was it lack of leisure? No, itcerta<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>was</strong> not that. Was it discouragement? No, forby <strong>the</strong> 'seventies literature <strong>was</strong>, as I have said, a respectableoccupation for women. One must conclude,quite simply, <strong>the</strong>n, that it <strong>was</strong> lack of talent? Apparentlyone must. It <strong>was</strong> of course possible to argue that womenhad only just begun to emerge from <strong>the</strong> muffled andsubjected state <strong>in</strong> which nature and men had kept <strong>the</strong>m;but that <strong>the</strong>ory, although consol<strong>in</strong>g, broke down immediatelyas one remembered <strong>the</strong> earlier women whose
120 V. Sackville-Westgenius had never allowed itself to be thwarted byobstacles.It is <strong>the</strong> critic's pet temptation to make outa case <strong>in</strong> favour of almost any argument; a little selectionhere, a little omission <strong>the</strong>re, and <strong>the</strong> trick is done. Iprefer to say pla<strong>in</strong>ly that if <strong>the</strong> women of <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesdid not write better poetry it <strong>was</strong> because <strong>the</strong>y had notgot better poetry <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>m to write. Some of it <strong>was</strong>graceful; some of it <strong>was</strong> even quite pretty; some of it<strong>was</strong> skilled; much of it <strong>was</strong> desperately serious; but <strong>the</strong>reit stopped short. It <strong>was</strong> a disappo<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g conclusion tocome to, but it <strong>was</strong> true. Christ<strong>in</strong>a rema<strong>in</strong>ed, admirable,but solitary.But if my hopes of a 'discovery' were dashed, I didnever<strong>the</strong>less settle on some po<strong>in</strong>ts of <strong>in</strong>terest about <strong>the</strong>poetry of women. It seemed to me that <strong>the</strong>re were variousspecial pits dug for <strong>the</strong>m, <strong>in</strong>to which <strong>the</strong>y fell one after<strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, with a swirl of petticoats and a clatter ofpolysyllabic bangles. Women, I fancy, were so muchafraid of be<strong>in</strong>g thought frivolous that <strong>the</strong>y becameheavy-handed. There were certa<strong>in</strong> temptations, which<strong>the</strong>y seemed quite unable to resist. Moralis<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> verse,for <strong>in</strong>stance, manifestly had a charm which at anymoment <strong>was</strong> liable to lead <strong>the</strong>m astray. Curiouslyenough, <strong>the</strong>y were more <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>ed to moralise than tosentimentalise. Now that, after all, might be attributedto <strong>the</strong> age—for could not Tennyson, when he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>wrong mood, his prosperous, Laureate, edify<strong>in</strong>g mood,out-moralise <strong>the</strong> most serious of women?—but somehowI suspected that <strong>the</strong> age and <strong>the</strong> natural temperament of<strong>the</strong> poetess had happened to co<strong>in</strong>cide here <strong>in</strong> an unfortunateaccordance. Religion no doubt <strong>was</strong> partly responsiblefor this general impression, for it <strong>was</strong> frequently religionwhich moved women <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century to take topoetry. Christ<strong>in</strong>a herself, and Mrs Meynell, owed a greatdeal to this form of <strong>in</strong>spiration. Probably many people
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 121would be surprised to hear how many of <strong>the</strong> most familiarhymns were written by women <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century—' Just as, I am, without one plea', 'Thy will be done','Watch and pray', by Charlotte Elliott; 'Jesus lives! nolonger now, Can thy terrors, Death, appal us', by FrancesElizabeth Cox; 'Nearer, my God, to Thee', by SarahFlower Adams; ' Our blest Redeemer', by Harriet Huber;and a number by Mrs Alexander, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g 'There is agreen hill far away', 'The roseate hues of early dawn',and ' When wounded sore <strong>the</strong> stricken soul, Lies bleed<strong>in</strong>gand unbound'—though Mrs Alexander, <strong>in</strong>deed, seems tohave shown some reluctance to be regarded as absorbedentirely <strong>in</strong> her spiritual pieces, for when a tea-tablevisitor asked her, ' Don't you <strong>year</strong>n on starlit nights to beupon <strong>the</strong> Alps, high above <strong>the</strong> earth, on <strong>the</strong> l<strong>in</strong>e of <strong>the</strong>eternal snow?' she ra<strong>the</strong>r tartly replied, 'No, I don't'.But religion <strong>was</strong> not enough to account for that Sundayschoolspirit <strong>in</strong> women, for it made itself manifest evenwhere religion <strong>was</strong> not <strong>the</strong> avowed motive. Possibly, andleav<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> freak of genius out of account, s<strong>in</strong>ce that is an<strong>in</strong>dependent law to itself, <strong>the</strong> women of mere talent hadnot had time to grow accustomed to <strong>the</strong>ir <strong>in</strong>creas<strong>in</strong>gemancipation; <strong>the</strong>y could not as yet take <strong>the</strong>ir activitiesnormally and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir stride. Possibly <strong>the</strong> art of letters<strong>was</strong> too new an experience for <strong>the</strong>m to accept naturally;and <strong>the</strong>y regarded it less as an art than as a means ofauthority, as a great responsibility newly given <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong>hands of women. It <strong>was</strong> one's duty, perhaps, to improve<strong>the</strong> reader's m<strong>in</strong>d; to give him delight <strong>was</strong> not enough.He must lay down <strong>the</strong> book, a better man. So MrsHamilton-K<strong>in</strong>g wrote:And now, what more shall I say? Do I need hereTo draw <strong>the</strong> lesson of this life; or sayMore than <strong>the</strong>se few words, follow<strong>in</strong>g up <strong>the</strong> text....And whoso suffers most hath most to give.
122 V. Sackville-WestAnd Louisa Guggenberger wrote:What's <strong>the</strong> text today for read<strong>in</strong>gNature and its be<strong>in</strong>g by?Effort, effort all <strong>the</strong> morn<strong>in</strong>gThrough <strong>the</strong> sea and w<strong>in</strong>dy sky.Is <strong>the</strong>re noth<strong>in</strong>g but Occurrence?Though each detail seem an Act,Is that whole we deem so pregnantBut unemphasized Fact?It <strong>was</strong> an unfortunate <strong>the</strong>ory to hold; it drove MadameDarmsteter (Mary Rob<strong>in</strong>son) <strong>in</strong>to giv<strong>in</strong>g ' her triste muse'<strong>the</strong> task of ' <strong>in</strong>vent<strong>in</strong>g a delicate misery which, happily,has never existed', and it completely turned <strong>the</strong> head ofLouisa Guggenberger, who is described <strong>in</strong> consequenceas 'emphatically <strong>the</strong> poetess of evolutionary science'—which apparently expla<strong>in</strong>s <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terest that Darw<strong>in</strong> took<strong>in</strong> her poems, though one would more naturally have expectedit to make him throw her book across <strong>the</strong> room.Then <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> Augusta Webster, perhaps <strong>the</strong> mostserious of <strong>the</strong> lot, and Mrs Clive with her reflections onmortality; but it is time to say someth<strong>in</strong>g about <strong>the</strong>seladies <strong>in</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>r more detail if <strong>the</strong> title of my paper is tobe at all justified.Augusta Webster, who <strong>was</strong> <strong>born</strong> <strong>in</strong> 1837 and <strong>was</strong> publish<strong>in</strong>gverse all through <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, must have spentra<strong>the</strong>r a queer childhood. Her fa<strong>the</strong>r <strong>was</strong> a vice-admiral,who, we are told, but briefly and without detail, had ' wona reputation for his success <strong>in</strong> sav<strong>in</strong>g shipwrecked seamen'.He <strong>the</strong>n held various coastguard commands, sothat his daughter Augusta <strong>was</strong> brought up trail<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>wake of a naval career, now stranded <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> north <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>castle of Banff, now whisked down south to Penzance,at <strong>the</strong> extreme opposite end of <strong>the</strong>se islands, now actuallyon board a ship, <strong>the</strong> Griper, <strong>in</strong> Chichester harbour. Theseodds and ends of biographical <strong>in</strong>formation float up to one,
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 123like so much orange-peel and spume, from <strong>the</strong> pages ofIntroductory Notes, and critical Forewords, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> mannerof such facts, tell<strong>in</strong>g one really noth<strong>in</strong>g at all—how should<strong>the</strong>y?—about <strong>the</strong> girl who lived on board <strong>the</strong> Griper <strong>in</strong>,I suppose, 1850, or about <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r who had won such areputation for sav<strong>in</strong>g shipwrecked seamen. One wouldlike to make up a preparation for <strong>the</strong> future poetess, outof such beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>gs; but <strong>in</strong>stead of that, several more factscome rapp<strong>in</strong>g out: that she studied <strong>the</strong> classical authors,notably <strong>the</strong> Greek dramatists; made translations fromAeschylus and Euripides: <strong>was</strong> a member of <strong>the</strong> LondonSchool Board; married Mr Thomas Webster, a solicitor,at <strong>the</strong> age of twenty-six; and collected her essays <strong>in</strong>to avolume of prose called A Housewife's Op<strong>in</strong>ions, whichconta<strong>in</strong>ed a great deal of useful advice. To <strong>the</strong>se facts onemay add some observations of one's own: that she hadread and admired Mr Brown<strong>in</strong>g, and that she <strong>was</strong> notafraid of express<strong>in</strong>g herself <strong>in</strong> pla<strong>in</strong> language on even <strong>the</strong>more delicate subjects; 'if a fault can be found,' said oneof her annotators, ' it is that <strong>the</strong> del<strong>in</strong>eation of Woman'sheart <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> most appall<strong>in</strong>g condition of Woman's life istoo pa<strong>in</strong>ful'. Her volume of poems, which appeared <strong>in</strong>1870 under <strong>the</strong> title Portraits, does <strong>in</strong>deed conta<strong>in</strong> somedownright speak<strong>in</strong>g; I will read you a few l<strong>in</strong>es from <strong>the</strong>poem called The Castaway, <strong>in</strong> which you will not fail tonotice <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence that Brown<strong>in</strong>g had had on her. Thespeaker is a girl <strong>in</strong> trouble:Well, well, I know <strong>the</strong> wise ones talk and talk:'Here's cause, here's cure'; 'No, here it is, and here';And f<strong>in</strong>d society to blame, or law,<strong>the</strong> church, <strong>the</strong> men, <strong>the</strong> women, too few schools,too many schools, too much, too little taught;somewhere or somehow someone is to blame:but I say all <strong>the</strong> fault's with God himselfwho put too many women <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> world.We ought to die off reasonably, and leaveas many as <strong>the</strong> men want, none to <strong>was</strong>te.
124 V. Sackville-WestHere's cause: <strong>the</strong> woman's superfluity;and for <strong>the</strong> cure, why, if it were <strong>the</strong> law,say, every <strong>year</strong>, <strong>in</strong> due percentages,balanc<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m with men as <strong>the</strong> times need,to kill off female <strong>in</strong>fants, 'twould make room;and some of us would not have lost too much,los<strong>in</strong>g life ere we know what it can mean.You may say that that is not poetry; you may say thatit rem<strong>in</strong>ds you of <strong>the</strong> remark passed on a novel of acerta<strong>in</strong> type, also by a woman, 'Good, but powerful'.But at least we must concede that it is <strong>the</strong> vigorous expressionof a woman who <strong>was</strong> deeply concerned with <strong>the</strong>lot of women throughout her life. It is just worth not<strong>in</strong>g,<strong>in</strong> pass<strong>in</strong>g, that Mrs Webster pr<strong>in</strong>ted her blank versewithout capitals at <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> l<strong>in</strong>es. We havegrown accustomed to this to-day, but <strong>in</strong> 1870 MrsWebster <strong>was</strong> criticised for her eccentricity, and <strong>was</strong> toldthat 'to do this with English poetry <strong>was</strong> a great mistake'.Mrs Webster's talent <strong>was</strong> not conf<strong>in</strong>ed to <strong>the</strong>se blankversepieces, which she probably regarded as vehicles forexpress<strong>in</strong>g her sociological op<strong>in</strong>ions ra<strong>the</strong>r than as poetry.She <strong>was</strong> also <strong>the</strong> author of several plays, and of severalo<strong>the</strong>r books of poems, <strong>in</strong> one of which, called A Book ofrhyme, she <strong>in</strong>cludes English stornelli, after an Italianverse form which had taken her fancy. I should like toread you a lyric, from her book called Yu-pe-ya's Lute,published <strong>in</strong> 1874, which I th<strong>in</strong>k is pretty enough todeserve a place <strong>in</strong> anthologies:Too soon so fair, fair lilies;To bloom is <strong>the</strong>n to wane;The folded bud has stillTomorrow at its will;Blown flowers can never blow aga<strong>in</strong>.Too soon so bright, bright noontide;The sun that now is highWill henceforth only s<strong>in</strong>kTowards <strong>the</strong> western br<strong>in</strong>k;Day that's at prime beg<strong>in</strong>s to die.
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 125Too soon so rich, ripe summer,For autumn tracks <strong>the</strong>e fast;Lo, death-marks on <strong>the</strong> leaf!Sweet summer, and my grief!For summer come is summer past.Too soon, too soon, lost summer;Some hours and thou art o'er.Ah ! death is part of birth:Summer leaves not <strong>the</strong> earth,But last <strong>year</strong>'s summer lives no more.Isa Craig, or Isa Knox as she afterwards became, beganher literary career by w<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g a competition aga<strong>in</strong>st 620rivals with an ode on Burns, on <strong>the</strong> occasion of <strong>the</strong> Burnscentenary. Evidently she based but very slight hopes onher poem, for she did not even take <strong>the</strong> trouble to bepresent when <strong>the</strong> result of <strong>the</strong> competition <strong>was</strong> declared,and so missed <strong>the</strong> pleasure of hear<strong>in</strong>g her ode read tothousands 'with f<strong>in</strong>e effect' <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Crystal Palace. Theode is competent enough, but no more <strong>in</strong>spir<strong>in</strong>g than onecould reasonably expect it to be. Some of her lyrics,however, have merit and are worth rescu<strong>in</strong>g from obscurity; for <strong>in</strong>stance, The Woodruff, of which I will readyou three verses :Thou art <strong>the</strong> flower of grief to me,'Tis <strong>in</strong> thy flavour!Thou keepest <strong>the</strong> scent of memory,A sickly savour,In <strong>the</strong> moonlight, under <strong>the</strong> orchard tree,Thou wert plucked and given to me,For a love favour.'It keeps <strong>the</strong> scent for <strong>year</strong>s,' said he(And thou hast kept it);'And when you scent it, th<strong>in</strong>k of me.'(lie could not mean thus bitterly.)Ah! I had swept itInto <strong>the</strong> dust where dead th<strong>in</strong>gs rot,Had I <strong>the</strong>n believed his love <strong>was</strong> notWhat I have wept it.
126 V. Sackville-WestThy circles of leaves, like po<strong>in</strong>ted spears,My heart pierce often;They enter, it <strong>in</strong>ly bleeds, no tearsThe hid wounds soften;Yet one will I ask to bury <strong>the</strong>eIn <strong>the</strong> soft white folds of my shroud with me,Ere <strong>the</strong>y close my coff<strong>in</strong>.And <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong>re is ano<strong>the</strong>r little poem, simply called,Song, which just deserves to be quoted:A greenness o'er my vision passed,A freshness o'er my bra<strong>in</strong>,Rose up as when I saw <strong>the</strong>m lastThe glad green hills aga<strong>in</strong>.Amid <strong>the</strong> streets' bewilder<strong>in</strong>g roar,I heard <strong>the</strong> rush<strong>in</strong>g stirsOf vagrant breezes runn<strong>in</strong>g o'erThe dark tops of <strong>the</strong> firs.Far round, <strong>the</strong> wide and swoon<strong>in</strong>g view,The bound of cha<strong>in</strong>ed heights;Far off, <strong>the</strong> dales my footsteps knew,With all <strong>the</strong>ir green delights;Far down, <strong>the</strong> river w<strong>in</strong>d<strong>in</strong>g throughThe valley, silver white;Far up, amid <strong>the</strong> cloudless blue,The slow sail of <strong>the</strong> kite.A greenness o'er my vision passed,A freshness o'er my bra<strong>in</strong>,Rose up as when I saw <strong>the</strong>m lastThe glad green hills aga<strong>in</strong>.It is not a very easy task to s<strong>in</strong>gle out poets for specialmention. For one th<strong>in</strong>g, it is not easy to decide about <strong>the</strong>dates: is it, for <strong>in</strong>stance, legitimate to <strong>in</strong>clude Mrs Clive,who <strong>was</strong> still liv<strong>in</strong>g after 1870, but most of whose poemswere published a number of <strong>year</strong>s earlier? Is it legitimateto <strong>in</strong>clude Margaret Veley, who <strong>was</strong> <strong>born</strong> <strong>in</strong> 1843 butwhose poems were not published until 1888? Or MadameDarmsteter, whose first collection did not appear till1878? Then <strong>the</strong> temptation to br<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> Mrs Norton is
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 127very strong; certa<strong>in</strong>ly her last volume of poems appeared<strong>in</strong> 1862, but she herself survived it by fifteen <strong>year</strong>s, andI f<strong>in</strong>d it hard to refuse admittance to so brilliant andlovely a lady. Perhaps you remember Fanny Kemble'sdescription of Carol<strong>in</strong>e Norton at an even<strong>in</strong>g party,amongst <strong>the</strong> members of her family, <strong>the</strong>se Sheridans sofamous for <strong>the</strong>ir beauty? <strong>the</strong>re were ga<strong>the</strong>red toge<strong>the</strong>r' Mrs Sheridan, <strong>the</strong> mo<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong> Graces, more beautifulthan anybody but her daughters; Lady Graham, <strong>the</strong>irbeautiful aunt; Mrs Norton, Lady Duffer<strong>in</strong>, GeorgianaSheridan, duchess of Somerset and queen of beauty byuniversal consent; and Charles Sheridan, <strong>the</strong>ir youngerbro<strong>the</strong>r, a sort of younger bro<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong> Apollo Belvidere.Certa<strong>in</strong>ly I never saw such a bunch of beautiful creaturesall grow<strong>in</strong>g on one stem. I remarked it to Mrs Norton,who looked complacently round her tidy draw<strong>in</strong>g-roomand said, "Yes, we are ra<strong>the</strong>r good-look<strong>in</strong>g people"'.This <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> lady whom Lockhart <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Quarterlycalled <strong>the</strong> Byron of poetesses, but who lives <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>memory chiefly for her looks, her misfortunes, and herwit. You may remember <strong>the</strong> story of how, when she <strong>was</strong>pay<strong>in</strong>g a call, she caught sight of <strong>the</strong> clock, and exclaimed,'Good gracious, it's seven o'clock; I shall belate; please call me a cab at once'. Her hostess confessedthat <strong>the</strong> clock <strong>was</strong> a quarter of an hour slow: <strong>the</strong> time<strong>was</strong> really a quarter past seven. ' Oh, <strong>in</strong> that case,' saidMrs Norton, ' please call me two cabs.'And if we admit Mrs Norton, it is ungracious to excludeMrs Clive, <strong>the</strong> author of that once popular novel PaulFerroll; for though Mrs Clive, beside <strong>the</strong> glitter of MrsNorton, <strong>was</strong> but a prov<strong>in</strong>cial and pa<strong>the</strong>tic figure, withher lameness and ill-health, she <strong>was</strong> certa<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>the</strong> moreconsiderable poet of <strong>the</strong> two. Not that her verse <strong>was</strong><strong>in</strong>spired by any orig<strong>in</strong>ality. One suspects that she hadread Gray's Elegy a little too often—I am th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g
128 V. Sackville-Westespecially of her long poem, The Grave—but one mustallow her a melancholy dignity of her own. Her lifeseems to have been overshadowed by its f<strong>in</strong>al tragedy,for, a confirmed <strong>in</strong>valid, she <strong>was</strong> burnt to death throughher dress catch<strong>in</strong>g fire as she sat work<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> her boudoir,surrounded by her books and papers. What a funeralpyre for a poet! Although her poem Conflict appears<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oxford Book of Victorian Verse, I should like toreproduce it here, as I fancy it is but little known:As one whose country is distraught with war,Where each must guard his own with watchful hand,Roams at <strong>the</strong> even<strong>in</strong>g hour along <strong>the</strong> shoreAnd fa<strong>in</strong> would seek beyond a calmer land;So I, perplex'd on life's tumultuous way,Where evil pow'rs too oft my soul enslave,Along thy ocean, Death, all pensive stray,And th<strong>in</strong>k of shores thy pensive billows lave.And glad were I to hear <strong>the</strong> boatman's cry,Which to his shadowy bark my steps should call,To woe and weakness heave my latest sighAnd cease to combat where so oft I fall:Or happier, where some victory cheer'd my breast,That hour to quit <strong>the</strong> anxious field would choose,And seek th'eternal seal on virtue's rest,Oft won, oft lost, and O! too dear to lose!But I must pass on, and come down <strong>the</strong> century <strong>in</strong>time, for <strong>the</strong>re are names to mention, even if <strong>the</strong>re is noneed to l<strong>in</strong>ger over <strong>the</strong>m: Mary Howitt, <strong>the</strong> Quakeress,a writer of ballads; Eliza Cook, a tradesman's daughter,who frankly wrote for <strong>the</strong> people and enjoyed greatpopularity for her sturdy patriotic verse; Dora Greenwell,a friend of Christ<strong>in</strong>a's; D<strong>in</strong>ah Craik, <strong>the</strong> authoress of JohnHalifax, Gentleman, who also wrote <strong>in</strong> verse; EllenO'Leary, an Irishwoman, <strong>the</strong> author of simple andpatriotic songs and ballads: George Eliot herself, whoadventured, but not very successfully, <strong>in</strong>to poetry with
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 129her Spanish Gypsy, her Bro<strong>the</strong>r and Sister, and her Legendof Jubal; Isabella Harwood, who under <strong>the</strong> pseudonymof Ross Neil <strong>was</strong> responsible for fourteen dramas; EmilyPfeiffer, <strong>the</strong> translator of He<strong>in</strong>e; and Jean Ingelow, whoalthough she is best known for her children's stories, isalso <strong>the</strong> author of one really excellent poem, Divided,from which I may perhaps be allowed to quote an extract;An empty sky, a world of hea<strong>the</strong>r,Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;We two among <strong>the</strong>m wad<strong>in</strong>g toge<strong>the</strong>r,Shak<strong>in</strong>g out honey, tread<strong>in</strong>g perfume.Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,Crowds of larks at <strong>the</strong>ir mat<strong>in</strong>s hang over,Thank<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Lord for a life so sweet.Flusheth <strong>the</strong> rise with her purple favour,Gloweth <strong>the</strong> cleft with her golden r<strong>in</strong>g,'Twixt <strong>the</strong> two brown butterflies waver,Lightly settle, and sleepily sw<strong>in</strong>g.We two walk till <strong>the</strong> purple diethAnd short dry grass under foot is brown;But one little streak at a distance liethGreen like a ribbon to prank <strong>the</strong> down.Then lastly one must mention Mathilde Bl<strong>in</strong>d, by birtha German, by adoption an Englishwoman, traveller,biographer, and translator, evidently a woman of character,to whom poetry <strong>was</strong> but one facet of many activities.It is <strong>the</strong> commonplace of criticism to condemn her poemsas mach<strong>in</strong>e-made, and wholly <strong>in</strong>adequate as an expressionof her personality; never<strong>the</strong>less I th<strong>in</strong>k her gift has beenslightly under-rated; her sonnets over-esteemed, and hervision of Nature esteemed not sufficiently. I must notdwell too long on Mathilde Bl<strong>in</strong>d, for <strong>the</strong> majority ofher publications <strong>in</strong> verse lie outside <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, butperhaps I may <strong>in</strong>clude a few verses from her poem TheSower:B 9
130 V. Sackville-WestThe w<strong>in</strong>ds had hushed at last as by command;The quiet sky above,With its grey clouds spread o'er <strong>the</strong> fallow land,Sat brood<strong>in</strong>g like a dove.There <strong>was</strong> no motion <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> air, no soundWith<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> tree-tops stirred,Save when some last leaf, flutter<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> ground,Dropped like a wounded bird;Or when <strong>the</strong> swart rooks <strong>in</strong> a ga<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>g crowdWith clamorous noises wheeled,Hover<strong>in</strong>g awhile, <strong>the</strong>n swooped with wrangl<strong>in</strong>gs loudDown on <strong>the</strong> stubbly field.For now <strong>the</strong> big-<strong>the</strong>wed horses, toil<strong>in</strong>g slowIn stra<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g couples yoked,Patiently dragged <strong>the</strong> ploughshare to and froTill <strong>the</strong>ir wet haunches smoked.So, with an effort, <strong>the</strong> 'seventies have produced for us—what? Some pretty lyrical verse; a great deal of sententiousverse; noth<strong>in</strong>g of any remarkable value; and ageneral sense of women scribbl<strong>in</strong>g, scribbl<strong>in</strong>g—whichperhaps <strong>in</strong> itself, apart from all question of merit, is <strong>the</strong>most encourag<strong>in</strong>g sign of all. For as a modern poet wrote,It doesn't much matter what you do,So long as you do it, and mean it, too.But <strong>the</strong> trouble with life is, that it is exceed<strong>in</strong>gly difficultto know what you do mean; and <strong>the</strong> trouble with poetry,and <strong>in</strong>deed with all forms of literature, is that it is exceed<strong>in</strong>glydifficult to express it even when you know it;and <strong>the</strong> trouble with women <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> that<strong>the</strong>y, all bewildered, knew less than anybody where <strong>the</strong>irproper place really <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> relation to life; so who canblame <strong>the</strong>m if <strong>the</strong>y took refuge <strong>in</strong> prett<strong>in</strong>esses or <strong>in</strong>sermons? Heaven knows, that we ourselves are only justbeg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g to grow out of it.But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> few m<strong>in</strong>utes that rema<strong>in</strong> to me, may I whirlyou away—to America? I have taken liberties with
The Women Poets of <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 131chronology; may I now take a liberty with geography?For <strong>in</strong> America, an almost exact contemporary ofChrist<strong>in</strong>a Rossetti, <strong>was</strong> liv<strong>in</strong>g a poet, a woman, who hadno respect whatever for <strong>the</strong> literary figures of her age, andwho said what she meant <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> roughest and fewest ofpossible words. She lived <strong>in</strong> complete seclusion; shewould lower baskets full of fruit or sweets on a str<strong>in</strong>g fromher w<strong>in</strong>dow to <strong>the</strong> local children, but if <strong>the</strong> editor of TheAtlantic Monthly wanted to see her he must come to herhome, for she would not go to Boston. She believed profoundly<strong>in</strong> herself; and language <strong>was</strong> to be her <strong>in</strong>strument,not she <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>strument of language. The result <strong>was</strong>odd sometimes; twisted; unga<strong>in</strong>ly; she paid <strong>the</strong> price ofthose who, like Thomas Hardy, say what <strong>the</strong>y want tosay ra<strong>the</strong>r than that which poetry wants <strong>the</strong>m to say.She <strong>was</strong> alive to both <strong>the</strong> advantage and <strong>the</strong> disadvantageof this determ<strong>in</strong>ation, for if she could write,The thought beneath so slight a filmIs more dist<strong>in</strong>ctly seen,—As laces just reveal <strong>the</strong> surge,Or mists <strong>the</strong> Apenn<strong>in</strong>e,she could also writeI felt a clear<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> my m<strong>in</strong>dAs if my bra<strong>in</strong> had split;I tried to match it, scene by scene,But could not make <strong>the</strong>m fit;The thought beh<strong>in</strong>d I strove to jo<strong>in</strong>Unto <strong>the</strong> thought before,But sequence ravelled out of reachLike balls upon a floor.I refer, of course, to Emily Dick<strong>in</strong>son, <strong>the</strong> one womanpoet of that time, or so it seems to me, who had truly felt'a clear<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> her m<strong>in</strong>d, as if her bra<strong>in</strong> had split'. Forthough <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs, <strong>the</strong> English women, wrote and wrote,always copiously and often competently, it <strong>was</strong> not <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong>ir bra<strong>in</strong> that <strong>the</strong> split had occurred, but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fashion9-3
132 V. Sackville-Westof <strong>the</strong>ir day. And <strong>the</strong> fashion of <strong>the</strong>ir day <strong>was</strong> really <strong>in</strong>advance of <strong>the</strong>m. Far from be<strong>in</strong>g prophets, <strong>the</strong>y werealmost anachronisms. Literature <strong>was</strong> permitted <strong>the</strong>m asa respectable pursuit, but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> glue and treacle ofliterary convention <strong>the</strong>y had rema<strong>in</strong>ed embedded. Still,by <strong>the</strong>ir mere energy <strong>the</strong>y were dragg<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>ir footstepsupward; for this we owe <strong>the</strong>m our gratitude; and s<strong>in</strong>cesymbolism may be twisted to serve almost any end wemay conclude with <strong>the</strong>se verses of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, writtenby Alice Meynell:O mo<strong>the</strong>r, for <strong>the</strong> weight of <strong>year</strong>s that break <strong>the</strong>e!O daughter, for slow time must yet awake <strong>the</strong>e,And from <strong>the</strong> changes of my heart must make <strong>the</strong>e.Know that <strong>the</strong> mournful pla<strong>in</strong> where thou must wanderIs but a grey and silent world, but ponderThe misty mounta<strong>in</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> morn<strong>in</strong>g yonder.The one who now thy faded features guesses,With filial f<strong>in</strong>gers thy grey hair caresses,With morn<strong>in</strong>g tears thy mournful twilight blesses.
§7The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'SeventiesBy SIR ARTHUR PINEROW. EN Macaulay <strong>was</strong> itch<strong>in</strong>g to make a start on hisHistory of England he recorded <strong>in</strong> his diary that '<strong>the</strong>great difficulty of a work of this k<strong>in</strong>d is <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g '.'How is it', he asked himself—'how is it to be jo<strong>in</strong>ed onto <strong>the</strong> preced<strong>in</strong>g events! How am I to commence it! Icannot', he goes on to say, 'plunge, slap dash, <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong>middle of events and characters. I cannot, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rhand, write a history of <strong>the</strong> whole reign of James <strong>the</strong>Second as a preface to <strong>the</strong> history of William <strong>the</strong> Third;and, if I did, a history of Charles <strong>the</strong> Second would stillbe equally necessary as a preface to that of James <strong>the</strong>Second.'Now, I am conscious that this is a somewhat portentousbeg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g to a slight discourse on what many may regardas a trivial subject; but <strong>the</strong> difficulties of great men are<strong>in</strong>tensified <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> case of little ones, and <strong>in</strong> confront<strong>in</strong>gmy difficulties I may claim excusably some k<strong>in</strong>ship withMacaulay. For <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>me I am given to lecture upon is'The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies', and at <strong>the</strong> outset I ambrought face to face with <strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre of <strong>the</strong>'seventies <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluenced <strong>in</strong> no small degree by a manwho wrote and did his best work <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'sixties. I alludeto Thomas William Robertson. I propose, <strong>the</strong>refore, withyour permission, to speak at some length of Robertsonbefore I get to <strong>the</strong> period with which I am askedparticularly to deal.Robertson <strong>was</strong> <strong>born</strong> at Newark-upon-Trent <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>
134 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero1829. He came of a hardwork<strong>in</strong>g, struggl<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>atricalfamily who followed <strong>the</strong>ir call<strong>in</strong>g for <strong>the</strong> most part <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>lesser prov<strong>in</strong>cial towns, and his education <strong>was</strong> of that sortwhich is vaguely, and often evasively, described as hav<strong>in</strong>gbeen ga<strong>in</strong>ed at 'private schools'. In Robertson's case<strong>the</strong>re is <strong>in</strong>deed a specific account, <strong>in</strong> a brief Memoirwritten by his son, of his attend<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>in</strong> 1836, <strong>the</strong> ' Spald<strong>in</strong>gAcademy', and subsequently, <strong>in</strong> 1841, a school atWhittlesea; but when he <strong>was</strong> barely fifteen his school<strong>in</strong>gcame to an end, and he <strong>was</strong> set to do his share of work—act<strong>in</strong>g, prompt<strong>in</strong>g, help<strong>in</strong>g to pa<strong>in</strong>t <strong>the</strong> scenery, and soforth—at <strong>the</strong> group of <strong>the</strong>atres which his fa<strong>the</strong>r <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>nmanag<strong>in</strong>g, on what <strong>was</strong> called <strong>the</strong> L<strong>in</strong>coln circuit. Hispractical experience of <strong>the</strong> stage had begun even earlierthan this, for at <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre at Wisbech on <strong>the</strong> even<strong>in</strong>gof Friday, June 12th, 1834—that is, when he <strong>was</strong>five <strong>year</strong>s old—he appeared <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> play of Rob Roy <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> character of Hamish, Rob Roy's son, for <strong>the</strong> benefitof two members of <strong>the</strong> company, a Mr Shield and aMrs Danby. Why <strong>the</strong> fortunes of Mr Shield and MrsDanby were thus l<strong>in</strong>ked I cannot expla<strong>in</strong>. One's imag<strong>in</strong>ationis stirred by <strong>the</strong> circumstance. But <strong>the</strong> reasonmay have been prosaic enough; it may have been <strong>the</strong>custom <strong>in</strong> those days of 'benefits' to reward a m<strong>in</strong>orperformer with only half a benefit, and to polish off twoon <strong>the</strong> same night. Anyhow it has noth<strong>in</strong>g to do with<strong>the</strong> bus<strong>in</strong>ess <strong>in</strong> hand, and I mention this performancemerely to show that Robertson's own statement that he<strong>was</strong> ' nursed on rose-p<strong>in</strong>k and cradled <strong>in</strong> properties' <strong>was</strong>not without foundation.On <strong>the</strong> L<strong>in</strong>coln circuit Robertson rema<strong>in</strong>ed for four<strong>year</strong>s, play<strong>in</strong>g everyth<strong>in</strong>g, accord<strong>in</strong>g to his son's Memoir,from Hamlet to <strong>the</strong> low-comedy part <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> farce ofDid you ever send your Wife to Camberwell?; and <strong>the</strong>n,<strong>the</strong> popularity of <strong>the</strong> circuit hav<strong>in</strong>g dw<strong>in</strong>dled, and <strong>the</strong>
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 135company be<strong>in</strong>g disbanded, he broke away from his familyand went to London. There he accepted any employmen<strong>the</strong> could obta<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> connexion with <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, usually,as he told his son, at that class of <strong>the</strong>atre where <strong>the</strong> performance<strong>was</strong> advertized to take place at an hour which,however often <strong>the</strong> hour <strong>was</strong> changed, <strong>the</strong> public evidentlyfound to be an <strong>in</strong>convenient one. He had not been long<strong>in</strong> London when he wrote his first piece, a little dramacalled A Nighf's Adventure. After persistent efforts to gethis play produced, he contrived to w<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> sympathy ofWilliam Farren, <strong>the</strong> elder, <strong>the</strong>n manager of <strong>the</strong> Olympic,and Farren put <strong>the</strong> piece upon <strong>the</strong> stage. It failed utterly,runn<strong>in</strong>g—or, ra<strong>the</strong>r, stagger<strong>in</strong>g—for four nights only.This <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> 1851, when Robertson <strong>was</strong> twenty-two.It <strong>was</strong> about this time that he met, and formed afriendship with, Henry James Byron—a friendship whichlasted till Robertson's death. Byron, slightly Robertson'sjunior, <strong>was</strong> also an actor and an aspir<strong>in</strong>g playwright. Ishall have a good deal to say about Byron as an authorlater on. Meanwhile it is enough to record that <strong>the</strong>se twoyoung men acted toge<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> various companies, halfstarvedtoge<strong>the</strong>r, and lived to see each o<strong>the</strong>r popular andprosperous. Byron <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> first of <strong>the</strong> two to succeed,and <strong>the</strong>n, as I shall show, he did not forget his friend.They lived <strong>in</strong> a foolish, sentimental age.Among <strong>the</strong> tribulations which Byron and Robertsonsuffered jo<strong>in</strong>tly <strong>was</strong> one aris<strong>in</strong>g out of <strong>the</strong> hir<strong>in</strong>g of apublic room <strong>in</strong> London for <strong>the</strong> performance of an enterta<strong>in</strong>ment<strong>the</strong>y had written <strong>in</strong> collaboration—an enterta<strong>in</strong>mentso artfully constructed that while Byron <strong>was</strong> on <strong>the</strong>stage <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> first part Robertson could fill <strong>the</strong> office ofmoneytaker, and while Robertson occupied <strong>the</strong> stage,prior to <strong>the</strong>ir appearance <strong>in</strong> a duologue which f<strong>in</strong>ished <strong>the</strong>programme, Byron could take control of <strong>the</strong> pay-box.A k<strong>in</strong>d patron paid <strong>the</strong> first week's rent <strong>in</strong> advance and
136 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>erocontributed towards <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g and general expenses,<strong>the</strong> idea be<strong>in</strong>g that <strong>the</strong> enterta<strong>in</strong>ment would grow <strong>in</strong>to apermanent attraction; but notwithstand<strong>in</strong>g this, when<strong>the</strong> open<strong>in</strong>g night arrived, Robertson and Byron hadspent <strong>the</strong>ir last farth<strong>in</strong>g upon <strong>the</strong> preparations for <strong>the</strong>important event. At <strong>the</strong> time announced for <strong>the</strong> commencementof <strong>the</strong> performance not a soul had turned up.A few m<strong>in</strong>utes later an elderly gentleman <strong>in</strong> a glow ofperspiration bustled up to Robertson, who <strong>was</strong> at hisstation <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> box-office, and said, 'Are <strong>the</strong>re any seatsleft?' 'Oh, yes,' said Robertson, 'right and left.' Thegentleman entered <strong>the</strong> empty hall but, nobody com<strong>in</strong>gto jo<strong>in</strong> him, his money <strong>was</strong> returned and <strong>the</strong> enterprisecame to an end.Up to 1854 <strong>the</strong>re is no record of <strong>the</strong> production of afur<strong>the</strong>r play from Robertson's pen, though a copy of anAssignment found among his papers gives evidence tha<strong>the</strong> <strong>was</strong> still pegg<strong>in</strong>g away at dramatic writ<strong>in</strong>g. Let mequote <strong>the</strong> document <strong>in</strong> full, as show<strong>in</strong>g his market valueas a dramatist at that date. It is headed ' City Theatre'—<strong>the</strong> City Theatre <strong>was</strong> at Norton Folgate, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Shoreditchdistrict:I hereby assign all rights of my drama, entitled ' Castles <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Air,' to Messrs. Johnson and Nelson Lee, mak<strong>in</strong>g it <strong>the</strong>ir soleproperty for town or country, on consideration of receiv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>sum of £3.Thomas W. Robertson.March 29th, 1854.'Castles <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Air'! A significant title.It <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> course of this <strong>year</strong>—1854—that he <strong>was</strong>engaged by Charles Ma<strong>the</strong>ws and Madame Vestris, whohad succeeded Farren <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> management of <strong>the</strong> OlympicTheatre, to fill <strong>the</strong> post of prompter. His salary <strong>was</strong> £3a week. £3 seems to have been an obst<strong>in</strong>ate figure withRobertson <strong>in</strong> those days. Inconsiderable as <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 137amount, ' it <strong>was</strong>', says Robertson, ' a salary of loose andirregular habits', <strong>the</strong> management be<strong>in</strong>g always <strong>in</strong>pecuniary straits. At last, <strong>in</strong> desperation, he and Byrondeterm<strong>in</strong>ed to enlist <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Horse Guards. Robertson<strong>was</strong> rejected, fail<strong>in</strong>g to satisfy <strong>the</strong> regimental doctor, andByron refused to enlist without him. So back <strong>the</strong>y bothwent to <strong>the</strong> old drudgery of act<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or <strong>the</strong>atres,doubtless with many a laugh and joke. And it <strong>was</strong>shortly afterwards that Robertson began to do hackworkfor Thomas Hailes Lacy, a prom<strong>in</strong>ent <strong>the</strong>atricalagent and publisher, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> way of adapt<strong>in</strong>g plays from<strong>the</strong> French. This, it seems to me, <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> first, fa<strong>in</strong>tstreak of dawn.It will surprise nobody who has studied <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atricaltemperament to learn that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> follow<strong>in</strong>g <strong>year</strong> Robertsonmarried. Rehears<strong>in</strong>g at a poky little <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>in</strong>Tottenham Street, Tottenham Court Road, he met andfell <strong>in</strong> love with a Miss Elizabeth Burton, a young actressplay<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> l<strong>in</strong>e of parts <strong>the</strong>n known as ' walk<strong>in</strong>g ladies'—perhaps because such characters did more walk<strong>in</strong>g thantalk<strong>in</strong>g. With a precipitancy not unusual, I believe,<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atrical profession, <strong>the</strong>y were married after ashort engagement on <strong>the</strong> 27th August, 1856, at ChristChurch, Marylebone. It is worthy of remark that thatlittle <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>in</strong> Tottenham Street, <strong>the</strong>n called <strong>the</strong> Queen'sTheatre—or more frequently, from its state of dirt anddecay, <strong>the</strong> ' Dusthole'—<strong>was</strong> afterwards furbished up andre-named <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's, and <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> scene ofRobertson's greatest dramatic triumphs. Soon after hismarriage he set out with his wife for <strong>the</strong> prov<strong>in</strong>ces, and<strong>the</strong>y acted toge<strong>the</strong>r, she promoted to <strong>the</strong> position of'lead<strong>in</strong>g lady', <strong>in</strong> Dubl<strong>in</strong>, Belfast, Dundalk, Plymouth,and Rochester. Return<strong>in</strong>g home, <strong>the</strong>y appeared at <strong>the</strong>Surrey Theatre and <strong>the</strong> Marylebone Theatre, and—alittle far<strong>the</strong>r afield—at <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atres ra<strong>the</strong>r magnilo-
138 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroquently styled <strong>the</strong> Theatre Royal Woolwich and <strong>the</strong>Theatre Royal W<strong>in</strong>dsor. It <strong>was</strong> while he <strong>was</strong> at W<strong>in</strong>dsorthat he had <strong>the</strong> misfortune to lose a little daughter;whereupon, sorely stricken—for he <strong>was</strong> a man of deepaffections—he resolved to leave <strong>the</strong> stage and devotehimself wholly to writ<strong>in</strong>g, his wife cont<strong>in</strong>u<strong>in</strong>g to actwhenever <strong>the</strong> chance presented itself. Lacy <strong>was</strong> stillemploy<strong>in</strong>g him as an adaptor, and, <strong>in</strong> addition, he <strong>was</strong>pick<strong>in</strong>g up small sums by do<strong>in</strong>g sketches and articles for<strong>the</strong> lighter magaz<strong>in</strong>es and journals. In 1863 he wrote apiece called David Garrick, founded upon a French play,Sullivan. Rescu<strong>in</strong>g it from <strong>the</strong> clutches of Lacy, he <strong>was</strong>lucky enough to get it acted by a famous comedian—Edward Askew So<strong>the</strong>rn, <strong>the</strong> creator of <strong>the</strong> now forgottenLord Dundreary. The piece is a flashy bit of <strong>the</strong>atricality,but one offer<strong>in</strong>g golden opportunities to a 'star' actor,and it holds <strong>the</strong> stage to this day. And <strong>the</strong>n, heartenedby <strong>the</strong> success of David Garrich, he wrote an orig<strong>in</strong>alcomedy which he called Society, deal<strong>in</strong>g with fashionableand Bohemian life; and <strong>the</strong>re we have <strong>the</strong> first glimpseof <strong>the</strong> real Robertson.The circumstances attend<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> production of Society<strong>in</strong> London are <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g. Marie Wilton, a fasc<strong>in</strong>at<strong>in</strong>gand ambitious young actress who had won fame at <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atres <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Strand, had taken <strong>the</strong> old 'Dusthole' fora term, scoured and tidied it, given it, as I have said, anew name, and started upon a career of management.Trouble befell her quickly. She had entered <strong>in</strong>to a sortof partnership with Byron, who had now come to <strong>the</strong>front as a playwright, under which he <strong>was</strong> to supply herwith burlesques, <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>d of play she <strong>was</strong> chiefly associatedwith, and short pieces of <strong>the</strong> class known as' domestic drama'. Her open<strong>in</strong>g programme <strong>was</strong> not long<strong>in</strong> exhaust<strong>in</strong>g its attractiveness, and she turned to Byronfor fresh material. But Byron at <strong>the</strong> moment <strong>was</strong> com-
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 139mitted elsewhere. What <strong>was</strong> to be done? A happythought occurred to Byron: here <strong>was</strong> an opportunity ofserv<strong>in</strong>g Tom! Society, written with an eye to <strong>the</strong> HaymarketTheatre, where So<strong>the</strong>rn <strong>was</strong> act<strong>in</strong>g, had beenrefused contemptuously by <strong>the</strong> manager—Buckstone—who pronounced it 'rubbish'. It had <strong>the</strong>n been offeredto various o<strong>the</strong>r London managers, with <strong>the</strong> same result.Truth to tell, it <strong>was</strong> a queer, out-of-<strong>the</strong>-way th<strong>in</strong>g, almostmonstrous <strong>in</strong> its disregard of <strong>the</strong> conventions. However,ow<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>strumentality of <strong>the</strong> faithful Byron, it hadbeen tried for a week or two <strong>in</strong> Liverpool and had beenfavourably received <strong>the</strong>re; and needs must when <strong>the</strong> devildrives—<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> shape of empty benches. So Society <strong>was</strong>produced at <strong>the</strong> little Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's Theatre, TottenhamStreet, Tottenham Court Road, on <strong>the</strong> night ofNovember 11th, 1865; and that night a new form ofdrama took root—teacup-and-saucer drama some peoplecalled it. Anyhow, Robertson had <strong>the</strong> gratification ofsend<strong>in</strong>g Buckstone a box for <strong>the</strong> hundredth performanceof <strong>the</strong> play, rem<strong>in</strong>d<strong>in</strong>g him—good-humouredly I am sure—of <strong>the</strong> op<strong>in</strong>ion he had expressed with such curtness. Tocut <strong>the</strong> story short, Society <strong>was</strong> followed <strong>in</strong> due course byOurs; Ours by Caste; Caste by Play; Play by School;School by M.P. M.P. <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> last of <strong>the</strong> comediesRobertson wrote for <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's. It <strong>was</strong> producedon April 23rd, 1870; and on February 3rd, 1871,at <strong>the</strong> age of forty-two, Robertson died. That regimentaldoctor <strong>was</strong> not far out <strong>in</strong> his diagnosis.And this br<strong>in</strong>gs us to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. But before treat<strong>in</strong>gof <strong>the</strong> 'seventies let us <strong>in</strong>quire what <strong>the</strong> condition of <strong>the</strong>stage <strong>was</strong> when Robertson began his series of comedies at<strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's, and what precisely were <strong>the</strong> natureand substance of those comedies. First, as to <strong>the</strong> state towhich our <strong>the</strong>atre had fallen at <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> productionof Society. It <strong>was</strong> a <strong>the</strong>atre, so far as <strong>the</strong> higher aims of
140 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero<strong>the</strong> drama were concerned, of faded, outworn tradition.Shakespeare <strong>was</strong> acted pretty regularly <strong>in</strong> a plodd<strong>in</strong>g,un<strong>in</strong>spired way; but for modern poetic drama audienceswere still asked to listen to <strong>the</strong> jog-trot rhetoric of JamesSheridan Knowles and to <strong>the</strong> clap-trap of Edward BulwerLytton. For <strong>the</strong> rest, <strong>the</strong> staple fare at our playhousesconsisted ma<strong>in</strong>ly of pirated versions of pieces of foreignorig<strong>in</strong> and <strong>the</strong> works of Dion Boucicault, Byron, and afew o<strong>the</strong>rs of smaller talent. The cribs from <strong>the</strong> Frenchand German were lurid melodramas, comedies unfold<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>tricate plots with a stilted verbosity of dialogue, andfarces emasculated <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> process of translation tillnoth<strong>in</strong>g rema<strong>in</strong>ed but humour of a boisterous and elementaryk<strong>in</strong>d. Boucicault's vast output <strong>was</strong> for <strong>the</strong> mostpart frankly of <strong>the</strong> ultra-sensational school, while Byronand his compeers contented <strong>the</strong>mselves with rapidlyturn<strong>in</strong>g out burlesques and extravaganzas, which werefound amus<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> proportion to <strong>the</strong> number of puns <strong>the</strong>yconta<strong>in</strong>ed, and those domestic dramas which had no moresemblance to life than <strong>in</strong> stature a flea has to an elephant.Some exception perhaps ought to be made <strong>in</strong> favour ofTom Taylor, a man of culture whose career embracedsuccessively <strong>the</strong> Professorship of English Literature atUniversity College, <strong>the</strong> practice of a barrister on <strong>the</strong>nor<strong>the</strong>rn circuit, <strong>the</strong> secretaryship of <strong>the</strong> Board ofHealth and, later, of <strong>the</strong> Local Government Board, andf<strong>in</strong>ally <strong>the</strong> editorship of Punch. It affords us a notion ofTaylor's <strong>in</strong>dustry to read that from 1846 onwards hecontributed to <strong>the</strong> stage no fewer than a hundred pieces.It also throws a light on <strong>the</strong> amount of leisure enjoyedby a Government servant. But, up to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies,Taylor, if not always avowedly, <strong>was</strong> an adaptor, thoughhe possessed <strong>the</strong> skill, which his fellow literary t<strong>in</strong>kerslacked, or did not care to exercise, to give his dramas ahome-brewed flavour.
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 141This, <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> position of affairs at <strong>the</strong> momentof <strong>the</strong> advent of Society. Now, I am not go<strong>in</strong>g to try totell you <strong>the</strong> plot of Society, nor <strong>the</strong> plot of any of <strong>the</strong>subsequent comedies written by Robertson for <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ceof Wales's Theatre. Their plots are <strong>the</strong> merest everydaystories—stories of <strong>the</strong> joys and sorrows of ord<strong>in</strong>ary, unromanticpeople, stories of youth and age, love, part<strong>in</strong>g,and reunion, of quarrels and reconciliation, of modestacts of chivalry and self-sacrifice, <strong>the</strong> whole stippled witha thousand humorous and pa<strong>the</strong>tic touches, yet narrated<strong>in</strong> language devoid of ornament and set <strong>in</strong> surround<strong>in</strong>gsof <strong>the</strong> most commonplace description. A critic, whomI cannot identify, writ<strong>in</strong>g after <strong>the</strong> first performance ofCaste, said:' Society' and ' Ours' prepared <strong>the</strong> way for a complete reformationof <strong>the</strong> modern drama and until <strong>the</strong> curta<strong>in</strong> fell on Saturdaynight it rema<strong>in</strong>ed a question whe<strong>the</strong>r Mr Robertson would be ableto hold <strong>the</strong> great reputation which <strong>the</strong>se pieces conferred uponhim. The production of 'Caste' has thrown aside all doubt. Thereformation is complete and Mr Robertson stands pre-em<strong>in</strong>ent as<strong>the</strong> dramatist of this generation. The scene-pa<strong>in</strong>ter, <strong>the</strong> carpenter,and <strong>the</strong> costumier no longer usurp <strong>the</strong> place of <strong>the</strong> author andactor. With <strong>the</strong> aid of two simple scenes—a boudoir <strong>in</strong> Mayfairand a humble lodg<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> Lambeth—Mr Robertson has succeeded<strong>in</strong> concentrat<strong>in</strong>g an accumulation of <strong>in</strong>cident and satire more<strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g and more poignant than may be found <strong>in</strong> all <strong>the</strong>sensational dramas of <strong>the</strong> last half century. The whole secret ofhis success is—truth!There you have an <strong>in</strong>stance of contemporary op<strong>in</strong>ion, andyou have only to consult <strong>the</strong> journals of <strong>the</strong> time to f<strong>in</strong>dthat that op<strong>in</strong>ion <strong>was</strong> generally held. To-day very likelymany, read<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>se half-dozen comedies of Robertson'smaturity, would be <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>ed to smile at <strong>the</strong> criticism Ihave just quoted; <strong>the</strong>y would declare that Robertson'sbest work is th<strong>in</strong>, wishy-<strong>was</strong>hy, superficial; but <strong>in</strong> deal<strong>in</strong>gwith <strong>the</strong> stage you must judge an author's work <strong>in</strong> relationto <strong>the</strong> age <strong>in</strong> which he wrote, <strong>the</strong> obstacles he had
140 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero<strong>the</strong> drama were concerned, of faded, outworn tradition.Shakespeare <strong>was</strong> acted pretty regularly <strong>in</strong> a plodd<strong>in</strong>g,un<strong>in</strong>spired way; but for modern poetic drama audienceswere still asked to listen to <strong>the</strong> jog-trot rhetoric of JamesSheridan Knowles and to <strong>the</strong> clap-trap of Edward BulwerLytton. For <strong>the</strong> rest, <strong>the</strong> staple fare at our playhousesconsisted ma<strong>in</strong>ly of pirated versions of pieces of foreignorig<strong>in</strong> and <strong>the</strong> works of Dion Boucicault, Byron, and afew o<strong>the</strong>rs of smaller talent. The cribs from <strong>the</strong> Frenchand German were lurid melodramas, comedies unfold<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>tricate plots with a stilted verbosity of dialogue, andfarces emasculated <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> process of translation tillnoth<strong>in</strong>g rema<strong>in</strong>ed but humour of a boisterous and elementaryk<strong>in</strong>d. Boucicault's vast output <strong>was</strong> for <strong>the</strong> mostpart frankly of <strong>the</strong> ultra-sensational school, while Byronand his compeers contented <strong>the</strong>mselves with rapidlyturn<strong>in</strong>g out burlesques and extravaganzas, which werefound amus<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> proportion to <strong>the</strong> number of puns <strong>the</strong>yconta<strong>in</strong>ed, and those domestic dramas which had no moresemblance to life than <strong>in</strong> stature a flea has to an elephant.Some exception perhaps ought to be made <strong>in</strong> favour ofTom Taylor, a man of culture whose career embracedsuccessively <strong>the</strong> Professorship of English Literature atUniversity College, <strong>the</strong> practice of a barrister on <strong>the</strong>nor<strong>the</strong>rn circuit, <strong>the</strong> secretaryship of <strong>the</strong> Board ofHealth and, later, of <strong>the</strong> Local Government Board, andf<strong>in</strong>ally <strong>the</strong> editorship of Punch. It affords us a notion ofTaylor's <strong>in</strong>dustry to read that from 1846 onwards hecontributed to <strong>the</strong> stage no fewer than a hundred pieces.It also throws a light on <strong>the</strong> amount of leisure enjoyedby a Government servant. But, up to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies,Taylor, if not always avowedly, <strong>was</strong> an adaptor, thoughhe possessed <strong>the</strong> skill, which his fellow literary t<strong>in</strong>kerslacked, or did not care to exercise, to give his dramas ahome-brewed flavour.
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 141This, <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> position of affairs at <strong>the</strong> momentof <strong>the</strong> advent of Society. Now, I am not go<strong>in</strong>g to try totell you <strong>the</strong> plot of Society, nor <strong>the</strong> plot of any of <strong>the</strong>subsequent comedies written by Robertson for <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ceof Wales's Theatre. Their plots are <strong>the</strong> merest everydaystories—stories of <strong>the</strong> joys and sorrows of ord<strong>in</strong>ary, unromanticpeople, stories of youth and age, love, part<strong>in</strong>g,and reunion, of quarrels and reconciliation, of modestacts of chivalry and self-sacrifice, <strong>the</strong> whole stippled witha thousand humorous and pa<strong>the</strong>tic touches, yet narrated<strong>in</strong> language devoid of ornament and set <strong>in</strong> surround<strong>in</strong>gsof <strong>the</strong> most commonplace description. A critic, whomI cannot identify, writ<strong>in</strong>g after <strong>the</strong> first performance ofCaste, said:'Society' and 'Ours' prepared <strong>the</strong> way for a complete reformationof <strong>the</strong> modern drama and until <strong>the</strong> curta<strong>in</strong> fell on Saturdaynight it rema<strong>in</strong>ed a question whe<strong>the</strong>r Mr Robertson would be ableto hold <strong>the</strong> great reputation which <strong>the</strong>se pieces conferred uponhim. The production of 'Caste' has thrown aside all doubt. Thereformation is complete and Mr Robertson stands pre-em<strong>in</strong>ent as<strong>the</strong> dramatist of this generation. The scene-pa<strong>in</strong>ter, <strong>the</strong> carpenter,and <strong>the</strong> costumier no longer usurp <strong>the</strong> place of <strong>the</strong> author andactor. With <strong>the</strong> aid of two simple scenes—a boudoir <strong>in</strong> Mayfairand a humble lodg<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> Lambeth—Mr Robertson has succeeded<strong>in</strong> concentrat<strong>in</strong>g an accumulation of <strong>in</strong>cident and satire more<strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g and more poignant than may be found <strong>in</strong> all <strong>the</strong>sensational dramas of <strong>the</strong> last half century. The whole secret ofhis success is—truth!There you have an <strong>in</strong>stance of contemporary op<strong>in</strong>ion, andyou have only to consult <strong>the</strong> journals of <strong>the</strong> time to f<strong>in</strong>dthat that op<strong>in</strong>ion <strong>was</strong> generally held. To-day very likelymany, read<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>se half-dozen comedies of Robertson'smaturity, would be <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>ed to smile at <strong>the</strong> criticism Ihave just quoted; <strong>the</strong>y would declare that Robertson'sbest work is th<strong>in</strong>, wishy-<strong>was</strong>hy, superficial; but <strong>in</strong> deal<strong>in</strong>gwith <strong>the</strong> stage you must judge an author's work <strong>in</strong> relationto <strong>the</strong> age <strong>in</strong> which he wrote, <strong>the</strong> obstacles he had
142 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroto grapple with <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> shape of ancient prejudices andseem<strong>in</strong>gly impassable barriers, and so judged it canscarcely be denied that Robertson <strong>was</strong> a man of visionand courage. Consider, too, how strange it <strong>was</strong> that suchwork should emanate from one who from boy hood had beensteeped to his ears <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> common devices and conventionalitiesof <strong>the</strong> stage, who had himself wrought some of <strong>the</strong>poorest of dramatic stuff. Here <strong>was</strong> a nature that <strong>was</strong>not 'subdu'd to what it works <strong>in</strong>, like <strong>the</strong> dyer's hand'.At what period of his life schemes for depart<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong>beaten track had entered his bra<strong>in</strong> it is impossible evento guess; probably he had nursed <strong>the</strong> idea for <strong>year</strong>s,conform<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> conditions imposed upon him by hispoverty, but wait<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>year</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g, for <strong>the</strong> opportunity ofassert<strong>in</strong>g himself. In an old play of m<strong>in</strong>e—Trelawny of<strong>the</strong> ' Wells'—I made Robertson my hero. I disguised himunder <strong>the</strong> name of Tom Wrench and placed him atSadler's Wells Theatre as an actor of small parts. ' Somebodymust play <strong>the</strong> bad parts <strong>in</strong> this world, on and off <strong>the</strong>stage', says his landlady, consol<strong>in</strong>g him for his hav<strong>in</strong>gbeen jeered at on <strong>the</strong> previous night by a disrespectfulgallery. May I read you a few l<strong>in</strong>es of this play, to giveyou my conception of Robertson's character? A smartWest-end actress—Miss Imogen Parrott—herself formerlyof <strong>the</strong> ' Wells', is visit<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> mean house <strong>in</strong> which TomWrench is lodg<strong>in</strong>g and is listen<strong>in</strong>g ra<strong>the</strong>r superciliouslyto his half-serious, half-comical recital of his woes. ' Whatabout your plays,' she asks; 'aren't you try<strong>in</strong>g to writeany plays just now?'TOMTry<strong>in</strong>g! I am do<strong>in</strong>g more than try<strong>in</strong>g to write plays. I amwrit<strong>in</strong>g plays. I have written plays.IMOGENWell?TOMMy cupboard upstairs is choked with 'em.
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 143IMOGENWon't anybody take a fancy—?TOMNot a sufficiently violent fancy.IMOGENYou know, <strong>the</strong> speeches were so short, and had such ord<strong>in</strong>arywords <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>m, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> plays you used to read to me—no bigopportunity for <strong>the</strong> lead<strong>in</strong>g lady, Wrench.TOMM'yes. I strive to make my people talk and behave like livepeople, don't I—?IMOGENI suppose you do.TOMTo fashion heroes out of actual, dull, every-day men—<strong>the</strong> sortof men you see smok<strong>in</strong>g cheroots <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> club w<strong>in</strong>dows <strong>in</strong> St James'sStreet; and hero<strong>in</strong>es from simple maidens <strong>in</strong> musl<strong>in</strong> frocks. Naturally,<strong>the</strong> managers won't stand that.IMOGENWhy, of course not.TOMIf <strong>the</strong>y did, <strong>the</strong> public wouldn't.IMOGENIs it likely?TOMIs it likely? I wonder!IMOGENWonder—what ?TOMWhe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y would.IMOGENThe public!TOMThe public. Jenny, I wonder about it sometimes so hard ththat little bedroom of m<strong>in</strong>e becomes a banquet<strong>in</strong>g hall and thilodg<strong>in</strong>g house a castle.In a later scene I show how Tom Wrench is aim<strong>in</strong>g atstrict fidelity <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> mount<strong>in</strong>g of his plays—a realismeventually achieved by Robertson. On a ra<strong>in</strong>y night, <strong>in</strong>
144 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero<strong>the</strong> company of some of his humble associates, Wrenchf<strong>in</strong>ds himself by an odd comb<strong>in</strong>ation of circumstances <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> draw<strong>in</strong>g-room of a mansion <strong>in</strong> Cavendish Square.Speak<strong>in</strong>g to Avonia Bunn, a tawdry little soubrette, hesays, look<strong>in</strong>g about him, ' This is <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>d of chamber Iwant for <strong>the</strong> first act of my comedy—'AVONIAOh, lor', your head's cont<strong>in</strong>ually runn<strong>in</strong>g on your comedy. Halfthis blessed even<strong>in</strong>g—TOMI tell you I won't have doors stuck here, <strong>the</strong>re, and everywhere;no, nor w<strong>in</strong>dows <strong>in</strong> all sorts of impossible places!AVONIAOh, really! Well, when you do get your play accepted, m<strong>in</strong>dyou see that Mr Manager gives you exactly what you ask for—won't you?TOMYou needn't be satirical, if you are wet. Yes, I will! W<strong>in</strong>dowson <strong>the</strong> one side, doors on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r—just where <strong>the</strong>y should be,architecturally. And locks on <strong>the</strong> doors, real locks, to work; andhandles—to turn! Ha, ha! You wait—wait—!Well, whe<strong>the</strong>r or not I take too romantic a view ofbertson, <strong>the</strong>re can be no question as to his hav<strong>in</strong>g asaftsman created a renewal of <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> purely nativencomedy. With <strong>the</strong> success of his plays at <strong>the</strong>nee of Wales's came a demand for goods of homemfacture. The managers sat up and rubbed <strong>the</strong>irs, and began to th<strong>in</strong>k seriously of refram<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>iricy. The first author to respond to <strong>the</strong> impetus givenRobertson <strong>was</strong> his old friend and colleague Byron.Jut I will put Byron aside for <strong>the</strong> moment and turn tomore important persons—more important <strong>in</strong> an artisticsense. Of <strong>the</strong>se <strong>the</strong> most important <strong>was</strong> William SchwenckGilbert; and this br<strong>in</strong>gs me once more, after too long aprelude, to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 145W. S. Gilbert, <strong>in</strong> later life Sir William Gilbert, renownedfor his share, with Arthur Sullivan, <strong>in</strong> what areknown as <strong>the</strong> Savoy operas, <strong>was</strong> <strong>born</strong> <strong>in</strong> 1836 and <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong>refore younger than Robertson by seven <strong>year</strong>s. Hetook <strong>the</strong> degree of Bachelor of Arts at London University,<strong>was</strong> a clerk <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Privy-council office from 1857 to 1862,and <strong>in</strong> 1864 <strong>was</strong> called to <strong>the</strong> bar. He turned his legalexperience to good account subsequently by writ<strong>in</strong>g alittle masterpiece, for which Sullivan composed <strong>the</strong> music,called Trial by Jury. Wait<strong>in</strong>g for <strong>the</strong> growth of a practice—a quest he soon abandoned—he contributed to <strong>the</strong>magaz<strong>in</strong>es, and <strong>was</strong> on <strong>the</strong> staff of Fun, a comic journal<strong>in</strong> whose columns his Bab Ballads were first published.These ballads had been offered to Punch and had beenrefused—a slight which Gilbert never forgave. Gilbert,though a generous man, if tackled <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> right way, <strong>was</strong>not perhaps of <strong>the</strong> most forgiv<strong>in</strong>g disposition. An oldstory tells us that long after <strong>the</strong> rejection of <strong>the</strong> earlierBab Ballads by Punch he <strong>was</strong> one of a d<strong>in</strong>ner-party which<strong>in</strong>cluded Francis Cowley Burnand, <strong>the</strong>n Mr Punch's editor.' All <strong>the</strong> good th<strong>in</strong>gs are sent to Punch,' remarked Burnand,<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> course of conversation at table. ' Then why do<strong>the</strong>y appear?' snapped Gilbert. A peculiarity of Glibeexquisite humorist as he <strong>was</strong>, <strong>was</strong> that he <strong>was</strong> aptexceed<strong>in</strong>gly tetchy, even over trifles, <strong>in</strong> matters affechis personal dignity. He once compla<strong>in</strong>ed to mquerulous tones of <strong>the</strong> rudeness of a barber who canhis house to cut his hair. 'What do you th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong>pert<strong>in</strong>ent fellow dared to ask me', said Gilbert, whvoice rose to a treble <strong>in</strong> anger, '"when are we to expeanyth<strong>in</strong>g fur<strong>the</strong>r, Mr Gilbert, from your fluent pen?"'What do you mean, sir,' said Gilbert to <strong>the</strong> well-<strong>in</strong>tentionedbut unfortunate barber—'what do you meanby "fluent pen"? There is no such th<strong>in</strong>g as a fluent pen.A pen is an <strong>in</strong>sensible object. And, at any rate, I don'tB 10
146 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eropresume to <strong>in</strong>quire <strong>in</strong>to your private affairs; you willplease observe <strong>the</strong> same reticence with regard to m<strong>in</strong>e.'On ano<strong>the</strong>r occasion he <strong>was</strong> accosted <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> foyer of a<strong>the</strong>atre by a well-known amateur actor, a Mr H. SuchGranville. ' Excuse me, Mr Gilbert,' said that gentleman—' excuse me for speak<strong>in</strong>g to you without an <strong>in</strong>troduction.You may have heard of me; my name is Such, but I actas Granville.' 'Oh, do you,' retorted Gilbert, resent<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> liberty, '<strong>the</strong>n I wish your name <strong>was</strong> Granville andyou acted as such.' This encounter took place at <strong>the</strong>Garrick Theatre. Gilbert built <strong>the</strong> Garrick Theatre as aspeculation, and leased it to his friend John Hare. To <strong>the</strong>dismay of everybody concerned, when <strong>the</strong> digg<strong>in</strong>g for <strong>the</strong>foundation had reached a certa<strong>in</strong> depth a copious spr<strong>in</strong>g<strong>was</strong> discovered, and for a while it <strong>was</strong> feared that <strong>the</strong>build<strong>in</strong>g could not be proceeded with. 'Well,' saidGilbert, with more philosophy than he usually displayed,'at least we shall be able to let <strong>the</strong> fish<strong>in</strong>g.'Gilbert's first essay <strong>in</strong> dramatic writ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> a piececalled Dulcamara, a burlesque of <strong>the</strong> Elisir d'Amore ofDonizetti and Romani. This <strong>was</strong> produced by MissT-bert, <strong>the</strong> lessee of <strong>the</strong> St James's Theatre <strong>in</strong> 1868.Jierbert had <strong>in</strong>vited Robertson to furnish her withiristmas enterta<strong>in</strong>ment, but his hands were too fullHow of his accept<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> job, so he begged her toist <strong>the</strong> commission to Gilbert, <strong>in</strong> whom he had a firmef. Miss Herbert acted on Robertson's advice, andit came to pass that what Byron did for Robertson,bertson <strong>was</strong> able to do for Gilbert. In nei<strong>the</strong>r case, ase younger Robertson observes <strong>in</strong> his Recollections ofhis fa<strong>the</strong>r, <strong>was</strong> judgment at fault. But, with Robertsonto <strong>the</strong> fore at <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's as <strong>the</strong> author oforig<strong>in</strong>al work, Gilbert <strong>was</strong> not content to follow up <strong>the</strong>success of Dulcamara with pieces of <strong>the</strong> same order; and<strong>in</strong> 1870 <strong>the</strong> first of his fairy comedies—The Palace of
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 147Truth—<strong>was</strong> produced by Buckstone at <strong>the</strong> HaymarketTheatre. It is evident that by that time Buckstone, mostconservative of managers, <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> a chastened mood andhad become thoroughly alive to <strong>the</strong> direction <strong>in</strong> which,ow<strong>in</strong>g to Robertson's ascendancy, <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>d <strong>was</strong> blow<strong>in</strong>g.The Palace of Truth <strong>was</strong> succeeded at <strong>the</strong> Haymarket, <strong>in</strong>1871, by Pygmalion and Galatea, and Pygmalion andGalatea, <strong>in</strong> 1873, by The Wicked World. These three playsare full of charm, notwithstand<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>ir decided savourof cynicism, and possess a literary quality which, withoutany loss of <strong>the</strong>atrical effect, makes <strong>the</strong>m em<strong>in</strong>ently readable.Ano<strong>the</strong>r fairy play of Gilbert—Broken Hearts—<strong>was</strong>produced at <strong>the</strong> Court Theatre <strong>in</strong> 1876, and among hisless fanciful pieces belong<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies are hispa<strong>the</strong>tic Swee<strong>the</strong>arts, his austere Charity, both done <strong>in</strong>1874, his whimsical Engaged, and a version of <strong>the</strong> Faustlegend called Gretchen. Gretchen failed to attract. Oneeven<strong>in</strong>g at <strong>the</strong> Beefsteak Club Gilbert <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>duced by alittle group of admirers to expla<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> detail his treatmentof <strong>the</strong> Faust story. A too-eager listener broke <strong>in</strong> with <strong>the</strong>question, 'And how did it end?' 'Oh, it ended <strong>in</strong> a fortnight,'said Gilbert, annoyed by <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terruption.It is not with<strong>in</strong> my task to pursue <strong>the</strong> history ofwriter beyond <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. Suffice it that he proeventually that <strong>the</strong> bent of his genius lay <strong>in</strong> pure fanra<strong>the</strong>r than <strong>in</strong> transcripts of <strong>the</strong> actualities of life. W<strong>the</strong> plots of his straightforward comedies are skillmanaged, his dialogue is without Robertson's nattouch; his characters talk <strong>in</strong> a manner that is stiff, fomtoo carefully contrived. He found his metier ultimate<strong>in</strong> his association with Sullivan, and by that associationit is safe to prophesy, he will live. I trust I have not, byany unhappy suggestion, given an unfair picture ofGilbert. He <strong>was</strong> a brilliant creature, and he added a newword to <strong>the</strong> English language—' Gilbertian'.10-2
148 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroWhose name, <strong>in</strong> connexion with <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, ranksnext to Gilbert's <strong>in</strong> importance? Undoubtedly, Albery's.James Albery, author of Two Roses, Apple Blossoms, TwoThorns, Forgiven, and a few o<strong>the</strong>r comedies <strong>was</strong> <strong>born</strong> <strong>in</strong>1838, and died, disappo<strong>in</strong>ted and embittered, <strong>in</strong> 1889.His orig<strong>in</strong>al profession <strong>was</strong> that of an architect; butjo<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g an Amateur Dramatic Society when quite a youngman, he took to writ<strong>in</strong>g up <strong>the</strong> parts allotted to him, with<strong>the</strong> result that he developed a taste for dramatic authorship,and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> end threw everyth<strong>in</strong>g aside for it. That<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> a moment when he questioned <strong>the</strong> wisdom ofthis proceed<strong>in</strong>g is ev<strong>in</strong>ced by <strong>the</strong> fact that out of <strong>the</strong>royalties accru<strong>in</strong>g to him from his first successful play—Two Roses—he <strong>in</strong>vested a considerable sum of money <strong>in</strong>a bus<strong>in</strong>ess owned by his family and known as <strong>the</strong> ' RopeWalk'. The rope bus<strong>in</strong>ess came to grief, I believe frommismanagement, not from any lull <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fliction ofcapital punishment. This <strong>was</strong> a sad mischance to befall aman of Albery's desultory habits and want of <strong>the</strong> powerof concentration. I th<strong>in</strong>k it <strong>was</strong> Gilbert who said thatanybody can write a first act of a play. Certa<strong>in</strong> it is thatlbery left beh<strong>in</strong>d him a great many first acts of playsr to be completed; and that supplies <strong>the</strong> keynote ofcharacter. He could beg<strong>in</strong>, but he could seldomh. He could write with ease; it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> plann<strong>in</strong>g—spade-work—that <strong>was</strong> irksome. His <strong>in</strong>itial successhis undo<strong>in</strong>g; self-<strong>in</strong>dulgence led to <strong>the</strong> gradual lossmuch will power as he possessed, and <strong>the</strong> attractions oflemia did <strong>the</strong> rest.Two Roses <strong>was</strong> produced at <strong>the</strong> Vaudeville Theatren June 4th, 1870. In it, mak<strong>in</strong>g a dist<strong>in</strong>ct mark <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> serio-comic part of Digby Grant, appeared a zealousyoung actor who <strong>was</strong> shortly to take <strong>the</strong> town by stormat a neighbour<strong>in</strong>g house, and whose ashes are <strong>in</strong>terred <strong>in</strong>Westm<strong>in</strong>ster Abbey. Two Roses filled <strong>the</strong> Vaudeville
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 149Theatre till September <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> follow<strong>in</strong>g <strong>year</strong>, when it <strong>was</strong>displaced by Apple Blossoms, a delightful but weakerpiece. These two plays were Albery's outstand<strong>in</strong>g successes.In his o<strong>the</strong>r orig<strong>in</strong>al plays <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> sparkl<strong>in</strong>g,promis<strong>in</strong>g first act; and <strong>the</strong>n came <strong>the</strong> slacken<strong>in</strong>g of gripand <strong>the</strong> signs of <strong>in</strong>firmity of purpose. Yet <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> noneof <strong>the</strong>m that did not reveal a keen <strong>in</strong>sight <strong>in</strong>to life, andoften a ve<strong>in</strong> of genu<strong>in</strong>e poetry. The late William Archer,that f<strong>in</strong>e critic and honest man—held Albery as a dramatist<strong>in</strong> high esteem. In an obituary notice, Archer wrote:' If Mr Albery had fulfilled <strong>the</strong> promise of <strong>the</strong> Two Rosesand <strong>the</strong> little group of comedies that followed close uponit, how deep would have been our mourn<strong>in</strong>g to-day!...Beside Albery at his best, T. W. Robertson at his best isas appoll<strong>in</strong>aris to champagne, and H. J. Byron—well,shall we say lemonade?' Yes, dear Archer, but Robertson<strong>was</strong> a pioneer, Albery a disciple—<strong>in</strong> every sense of <strong>the</strong>word, a follower. Archer proceeds:I may possibly overestimate Albery's powers; for our detestablehabit of leav<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> drama to moulder <strong>in</strong> dog-eared prompt-booksrenders it impossible for me to check my somewhat remote impressions.All I know is that some scenes <strong>in</strong> Two Roses andespecially <strong>in</strong> Forgiven, have caused me as vivid pleasure asanyth<strong>in</strong>g I ever saw <strong>in</strong> a <strong>the</strong>atre. It is a mistake to suppose thatAlbery's best work is <strong>in</strong> Two Roses. That may be his best playas a whole (his least bad play would be a more correct form ofexpression), but I am much mistaken if several passages <strong>in</strong> Forgivendo not show to much greater perfection his wealth ofimag<strong>in</strong>ative wit. His fancy, <strong>in</strong>deed, <strong>was</strong> too luxuriant to be keptwith<strong>in</strong> bounds by his ra<strong>the</strong>r deficient sense of dramatic propriety.But he could certa<strong>in</strong>ly have cultivated that sense, as well as <strong>the</strong>o<strong>the</strong>r faculties of <strong>the</strong> serious dramatist, had he so chosen. To aman with his eye for character and his delightful gift of dialoguenoth<strong>in</strong>g should have been impossible, had he only taken <strong>the</strong> troubleto master his craft.Archer cont<strong>in</strong>ues: 'My one personal recollection ofAlbery is see<strong>in</strong>g him stand<strong>in</strong>g white with rage, before <strong>the</strong>
150 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroVaudeville curta<strong>in</strong>, denounc<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> "organized opposition"which had damned Jacks and Jills—though if ever<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> a foredoomed play, that <strong>was</strong> it.' I remember<strong>the</strong> melancholy <strong>in</strong>cident. That rash act of Albery's closedhis career as a writer of orig<strong>in</strong>al plays. Thenceforward,soured and sullen, and apprehensive perhaps of <strong>the</strong>attitude of an outraged public, he felt himself driven torestrict himself to adaptations. Some of those adaptationswere excellent—improvements on <strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>als; buteven <strong>in</strong> his hackwork he <strong>was</strong> frequently beh<strong>in</strong>dhand andundependable. In happier days, half <strong>in</strong> jest, he composedan epitaph on himself, which showed that he <strong>was</strong> notbl<strong>in</strong>d to his shortcom<strong>in</strong>gs. This is it:He revelled 'neath <strong>the</strong> Moon,He slept beneath <strong>the</strong> Sun,He lived a life of go<strong>in</strong>g to do,And died with noth<strong>in</strong>g done.Alas, poor Albcry!The name of William Gorman Wills is next on my listof notable playwrights of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. Wills, who <strong>was</strong><strong>born</strong> <strong>in</strong> Kilkenny County <strong>in</strong> 1828, studied at Tr<strong>in</strong>ityCollege, Dubl<strong>in</strong>, and <strong>was</strong> a pupil <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> art school of <strong>the</strong>Royal Irish Academy. He pa<strong>in</strong>ted many portraits andsubject pictures, but as an artist <strong>was</strong> a man of mediocreability. What led him to <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre I don't know. Aplay of his called The Man o' Airlie <strong>was</strong> produced <strong>in</strong> 1866and won him some consideration, but it <strong>was</strong> not until <strong>the</strong>production of his Charles I that he became really prom<strong>in</strong>ent.This <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> first of a scries of dramas which<strong>in</strong>cluded Eugene Aram, Jane Shore, Olivia—founded onThe Vicar of Wakefield—Nell Gwynne, Sedgemoor, andClaudian—all of great merit. Wills <strong>was</strong> a charm<strong>in</strong>g, ifnot very profound writer, but <strong>was</strong> deficient <strong>in</strong> dramatic<strong>in</strong>vention. Given a strong situation to handle, he couldtreat it with skill, but he needed guid<strong>in</strong>g. He could hang
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 151his hat on a peg with a f<strong>in</strong>e flourish; but if <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> nopeg upon <strong>the</strong> wall, he <strong>was</strong> at a loss.Charles I <strong>was</strong> produced at <strong>the</strong> Lyceum Theatre <strong>in</strong> 1872.That <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n under <strong>the</strong> management of H. L.Eateman, an American, and a showman of <strong>the</strong> Barnumtype. A stroke of good fortune had happened to Batemanwho, not many months before, had been at <strong>the</strong> end of histe<strong>the</strong>r. He had started management at <strong>the</strong> Lyceum toexploit his daughter Isabel, but his early ventures fellflat, and he <strong>was</strong> on <strong>the</strong> eve of clos<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre doorswhen an actor <strong>in</strong> his company—one Henry Irv<strong>in</strong>g, towhom I have already alluded—pressed upon him a playcalled The Bells, a version of Le Juif Polonais of Erckmann-Chatrian,done by a down-at-heel solicitor of <strong>the</strong>name of Leopold Lewis. Bateman shrugged his shouldersand yielded to Irv<strong>in</strong>g's persuasion; it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> desperatemanager's last throw. The Bells <strong>was</strong> hurriedly rehearsedand cheaply put upon <strong>the</strong> stage; and on <strong>the</strong> morn<strong>in</strong>g afterits first performance Irv<strong>in</strong>g awoke—if he had been asleep,which is doubtful—to f<strong>in</strong>d himself famous, and LeopoldLewis, puffed with pride, for ever after posed as <strong>the</strong> actualauthor of a play that <strong>was</strong> hardly more than a bald translation,and accepted grants from Irv<strong>in</strong>g, and dr<strong>in</strong>ks fromall and sundry, till <strong>the</strong> end of his days. Wills's Charles Icame immediately after The Bells, Irv<strong>in</strong>g's noble presentationof <strong>the</strong> ' martyr k<strong>in</strong>g' form<strong>in</strong>g a strik<strong>in</strong>g contrastto his tragic, guilt-haunted burgomaster <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> previousplay. That Wills's piece owed much to Irv<strong>in</strong>g's wonderfulact<strong>in</strong>g is undeniable, but Charles I, <strong>in</strong> spite of its be<strong>in</strong>gdisfigured by a shock<strong>in</strong>g travesty of history <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> draw<strong>in</strong>gof Cromwell, is a spirited and mov<strong>in</strong>g drama. Theremay be some here who can recall <strong>the</strong> pitiful f<strong>in</strong>al scene, sotenderly written by Wills—<strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terview between Charlesand Queen Henrietta Maria just before Charles is led outto execution.
152 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroAh, my loved solace on my thorny road,Sweet clue <strong>in</strong> all my labyr<strong>in</strong>th of sorrow,says Charles to his weep<strong>in</strong>g wife, 'What shall I leavato <strong>the</strong>e? 5To <strong>the</strong>e I do consign my memory...Oh, keep my place <strong>in</strong> it for ever green,All hung with <strong>the</strong> immortelles of thy love!That sweet abid<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> th<strong>in</strong>e <strong>in</strong>most thoughtI long for more than sculptured monumentOr proudest record 'mongst <strong>the</strong> tombs of k<strong>in</strong>gs.I have spoken of Wills's lack of <strong>in</strong>ventiveness. An<strong>in</strong>stance of it occurred <strong>in</strong> connexion with this very play.He <strong>was</strong> perplexed as to what to do for a fourth, and conclud<strong>in</strong>g,act, his m<strong>in</strong>d cont<strong>in</strong>ually revert<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> spectacleof <strong>the</strong> scaffold, <strong>the</strong> soldiery surround<strong>in</strong>g it, andCharles emerg<strong>in</strong>g from <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>dow at Whitehall to utterhis solemn <strong>in</strong>junction, ' Remembe!'—little more than atableau. Many were <strong>the</strong> consultations between Bateman,Irv<strong>in</strong>g and Wills upon this knotty po<strong>in</strong>t, Irv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> particularprotest<strong>in</strong>g aga<strong>in</strong>st such an exhibition of cruderealism. One night, <strong>in</strong> a discussion over <strong>the</strong> supper table,Bateman suddenly snapped his f<strong>in</strong>gers and cried, I'vegot it! The part<strong>in</strong>g of William and Susan <strong>in</strong> Black-eyedSusan!' Thus it came about that from that affect<strong>in</strong>gepisode <strong>in</strong> Douglas Jerrold's old drama—a Jack Tar'sfarewell to a humble lass—sprang an equally affect<strong>in</strong>gscene of farewell between a monarch and his consort.And now at long last I come to H. J. Byron. I passover Watts Phillips—who more properly belongs to <strong>the</strong>'sixties—and Burnand, and Charles Reade, and RobertReece, and o<strong>the</strong>r second and third-rate playwrights.These men were <strong>in</strong>dustrious enough, but <strong>the</strong>y were neverreally <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> movement started, as I claim, by Robertson.It is true that <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>defatigable Tom Taylor, spurred byRobertson's example, came forward <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies with
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 153a couple of ambitious plays described as orig<strong>in</strong>al—'TwixtAxe and Crown and Joan of Arc. I have not read <strong>the</strong>seplays—produced as a vehicle for <strong>the</strong> talent of a ladyknown as '<strong>the</strong> beautiful Mrs Rousby'—but I saw <strong>the</strong>mboth; and I recollect that I could never make out whe<strong>the</strong>rI <strong>was</strong> listen<strong>in</strong>g to prose which sounded like verse or versewhich sounded like prose. At any rate, after I had contemplated<strong>the</strong> beauty of Mrs Rousby for five m<strong>in</strong>utes,'Twixt Axe and Crown and Joan of Arc became, to myboyish taste, exceed<strong>in</strong>gly tedious.Why have I left Byron to <strong>the</strong> last; why did I put himaside a little while ago, reserv<strong>in</strong>g him till I have almostreached <strong>the</strong> end of this Paper? My explanation that o<strong>the</strong>rpersons, from an artistic po<strong>in</strong>t of view, were entitled topriority <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> merest excuse. Hav<strong>in</strong>g said that he <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong> first to respond to <strong>the</strong> impetus given by Robertson,I seem deliberately to have cold-shouldered him. Howdeceptive are appearances! Like <strong>the</strong> child who pushessome da<strong>in</strong>ty scrap of food to <strong>the</strong> edge of his plate—a plum,a morsel of jam, or what not—keep<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> tit-bit to <strong>the</strong>end of his meal, so I, cunn<strong>in</strong>gly, for my own enjoyment,have kept back Byron. I confess I have a sneak<strong>in</strong>gfondness for that good-natured, easy-go<strong>in</strong>g, handsomeman, and I wish I could defend him whole-heartedly from<strong>the</strong> charges brought aga<strong>in</strong>st him that he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> hiscomedies <strong>the</strong> mere joker that he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> his burlesques,that his plots were poor and stagey, that his characterization<strong>was</strong> conventional to a degree, his dialogue, thoughoften clever and amus<strong>in</strong>g, overladen with stra<strong>in</strong>ed reparteeand outrageous puns; that, <strong>in</strong> short, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> guiseof a serious dramatist and a critic of life, he <strong>was</strong> noth<strong>in</strong>gbut a purveyor of cockney vulgarity of <strong>the</strong> most extravagantk<strong>in</strong>d. I fear much of this is well-founded, but Ith<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong> dispraise is excessive. I admit that Byron <strong>was</strong>too often ready to sacrifice probability and appropriate-
154 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroness for <strong>the</strong> sake of gett<strong>in</strong>g a laugh from his audiences.He could even descend to that lowest of <strong>the</strong>atrical expedients—provid<strong>in</strong>ghis personages with names that hecould make fun of. In one of his later comedies—I forgetwhich—he gave a character, for a reason which is pa<strong>in</strong>fullyobvious, <strong>the</strong> name of Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater. I must apologizeto an honoured professor of this Society, who has raisedthat name to dist<strong>in</strong>ction, for this illustration of Byron'sobliquity. It is hardly necessary to say that <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong>a moment <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> play when that character appeared <strong>in</strong>what <strong>was</strong> called <strong>in</strong> those days a state of <strong>in</strong>ebriety.'Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater,' said ano<strong>the</strong>r character on <strong>the</strong> stage, eye<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> tipsy man sternly—'Dr<strong>in</strong>kwater, dr<strong>in</strong>k water '. Therewe have Byron almost, if not quite, at his worst.And yet, while wilfully committ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>se atrocities,Byron occasionally wri<strong>the</strong>d under <strong>the</strong> critical attacksmade upon him. It <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> such a frame of m<strong>in</strong>d that,<strong>in</strong>cited by Robertson's triumphs at <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's,he wrote Cyril's Success. Cyril's Success <strong>was</strong> produced at<strong>the</strong> Globe Theatre <strong>in</strong> November, 1868. In a dedicatorypreface to <strong>the</strong> published book of this comedy, addressedto Shirley Brooks, Byron says: 'I have endeavoured <strong>in</strong>Cyril's Success to write a play that would be effective <strong>in</strong>performance, and not altoge<strong>the</strong>r unworthy perusal'.After some fur<strong>the</strong>r remarks, he goes on: 'And now younaturally ask—Why write and pr<strong>in</strong>t this? Simply becauseI am tired of be<strong>in</strong>g termed a "droll", a "punster",and so on; and as a mere piece of self-justification—selfassertionit may be termed—beg to rem<strong>in</strong>d anyone whomay care to recollect <strong>the</strong> fact, that Cyril's Success isorig<strong>in</strong>al, and a comedy.. .<strong>in</strong> five acts! There!' Whatspecial virtue resides <strong>in</strong> five acts that cannot exist <strong>in</strong>three or four may not be clear to us to-day; but five actsare <strong>in</strong> accord with classic form, and Byron's mood wouldbe satisfied with no fewer. At any rate, I have lately re-
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 155read Cyril's Success, and <strong>the</strong> impression left upon me isthat it has so many faults that it would not be possiblefor a smaller number of acts to conta<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>m. The storyconcerns a successful young dramatic author—CyrilCuthbert—his estrangement from his wife as a consequenceof his popularity, and <strong>the</strong>ir ultimate reconciliation.There is a villa<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> piece who, detected <strong>in</strong> pay<strong>in</strong>gillicit attentions to Mrs Cuthbert, fights a duel with Cyriland, hav<strong>in</strong>g been wounded to <strong>the</strong> po<strong>in</strong>t of death, on hisrecovery duly repents and, <strong>in</strong> his own words, becomesano<strong>the</strong>r and a better man. And <strong>the</strong>re are many o<strong>the</strong>rcharacters of <strong>the</strong> regulation stock pattern, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g ascion of <strong>the</strong> aristocracy—<strong>the</strong> Honourable FrederickTiteboy—described as 'a dapper youth, dressed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>best taste', which character <strong>was</strong> acted, as <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> customof <strong>the</strong> time, by an extremely shapely young lady. Now,many a worse story than this has made a good play; butlet me give you, very briefly, a specimen of Byron'smethod of tell<strong>in</strong>g it. At <strong>the</strong> rise of <strong>the</strong> curta<strong>in</strong> on <strong>the</strong>first act, Pepper, a manservant—Cyril's success has beenso great that he has already set up a manservant—Pepperis discovered alone, seated <strong>in</strong> his master's armchair. Hereads aloud, for <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>struction of <strong>the</strong> audience, a report <strong>in</strong>a newspaper chronicl<strong>in</strong>g Cyril's latest achievement. ' ByJove,' says Pepper, 'master's a-go<strong>in</strong>g it—ano<strong>the</strong>r success—noth<strong>in</strong>g but success—well, he deserves it—I'm proudof him—he's a gentleman. No meanness about him—noniggardly ways, or pry<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to parties' perquisites or <strong>in</strong>terfer<strong>in</strong>gwith his servants. Let's read <strong>the</strong> article oncemore.' Presently he is jo<strong>in</strong>ed by Perk<strong>in</strong>s, Mrs Cuthbert'smaid, and toge<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y discuss, for <strong>the</strong> fur<strong>the</strong>r enlightenmentof <strong>the</strong> audience, <strong>the</strong>ir employers' affairs. MrsCuthbert <strong>the</strong>n enters, <strong>the</strong> servants withdraw—Pepperexclaim<strong>in</strong>g' Missus!'—and <strong>the</strong> wife <strong>in</strong>dulges <strong>in</strong> a soliloquya page-and-a-half long <strong>in</strong> which she oblig<strong>in</strong>gly <strong>in</strong>forms
156 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>ero<strong>the</strong> audience of Cyril's neglect of her. She is <strong>in</strong>terruptedby <strong>the</strong> entrance of her husband who overhears herread<strong>in</strong>g a letter, uncomplimentary to himself, from herold schoolmistress; whereupon Mrs Cuthbert starts to herfeet, crumples up <strong>the</strong> letter, and says, 'Oh, Cyril! Ididn't mean you to hear it'—surely a lesson to wives notto read letters, when alone, at <strong>the</strong> top of <strong>the</strong>ir voices. Somuch for Byron's method of writ<strong>in</strong>g a play which hedeemed not unworthy of perusal. The piece, with itscomic, and communicative, servants, its lengthy soliloquiesand preposterous 'asides', <strong>was</strong> a success, if notquite equal to Cyril's; but it is to be noted that Byronnever aga<strong>in</strong> essayed a five-act comedy, nor challenged<strong>the</strong> critics on <strong>the</strong> score of call<strong>in</strong>g him a ' droll'. Comparedwith Byron's most successful plays, Cyril's Success <strong>was</strong>flat and dull. Its composition evidently weighed upon<strong>the</strong> author and restra<strong>in</strong>ed his high spirits—those highspirits which, after all, were his most valuable asset.Byron's most successful play <strong>was</strong> Our Boys. Our Boys<strong>was</strong> produced at <strong>the</strong> Vaudeville Theatre <strong>in</strong> January, 1875,and ran until April, 1879—a period of four <strong>year</strong>s andthree months. It must be remembered, of course, that<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>the</strong> rents of <strong>the</strong>atres, <strong>the</strong> salaries ofactors and actresses, and a playwright's royalties wereconsiderably lower than <strong>the</strong>y are to-day. The salary of alead<strong>in</strong>g actor or actress <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> seldom morethan £20 a week. Nowadays that salary is paid to asubord<strong>in</strong>ate actor for speak<strong>in</strong>g only twenty l<strong>in</strong>es, while£100 a week will hardly keep a lead<strong>in</strong>g actor <strong>in</strong> golf clubs.As for <strong>the</strong> playwrights, £3 a performance <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> usualfee <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, as it had been <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'sixties. Thatis <strong>the</strong> payment Robertson received for his comedies at<strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's, Albery at <strong>the</strong> Vaudeville for TwoRoses, and Byron for Our Boys at <strong>the</strong> same <strong>the</strong>atre. S<strong>in</strong>ce<strong>the</strong>n, I understand, dramatists have become more exact-
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 157<strong>in</strong>g. But allow<strong>in</strong>g for <strong>the</strong> different economic conditionswhich obta<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, <strong>the</strong>re is no ga<strong>in</strong>say<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> enormous success of Our Boys. In it are to be found<strong>the</strong> exaggerations common to Byron's o<strong>the</strong>r works; but<strong>the</strong> characters are consistently drawn, <strong>the</strong> constructionis direct and well balanced, <strong>the</strong> story cumulative and fullof human <strong>in</strong>terest. I th<strong>in</strong>k it may be laid down withtolerable certa<strong>in</strong>ty that no play, however much it may besneered at by superior persons, can get such a hold on <strong>the</strong>public as did Our Boys without possess<strong>in</strong>g qualities thatare essentially valid. The public does not analyse—howelse could it have tolerated that exit of Perkyn Middlewick,<strong>the</strong> vulgar old fa<strong>the</strong>r, when, after his angry scenewith his son over <strong>the</strong> latter's love affair, he bounces outof <strong>the</strong> room shout<strong>in</strong>g, ' And that's my ultipomatum!'?—<strong>the</strong> public, I repeat, does not analyse, but it feels; and<strong>the</strong> feel<strong>in</strong>gs of <strong>the</strong> people are, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong>, to be trusted.Our Boys <strong>was</strong> followed by ano<strong>the</strong>r play of Byron's—The Girls. Who can wonder that, after <strong>the</strong> phenomenalsuccess of <strong>the</strong> piece that preceded it, The Girls provedra<strong>the</strong>r a damp squib? But it had its amus<strong>in</strong>g passages.Let me, <strong>in</strong> tak<strong>in</strong>g leave of Byron, cite one of <strong>the</strong>m as asample of his observant wit. A young married woman isgiv<strong>in</strong>g her cook <strong>the</strong> morn<strong>in</strong>g orders. At <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>terview <strong>the</strong> cook shows a disposition to l<strong>in</strong>ger. 'Well?'says <strong>the</strong> mistress. 'Please, m'm,' says <strong>the</strong> cook, '<strong>the</strong>beer.' Those were <strong>the</strong> days, recollect, when it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>custom for <strong>the</strong> brewer to deliver at pretty regular <strong>in</strong>tervalsa small cask of ale for consumption <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> basement.' Beer!' says <strong>the</strong> lady, ' We had a new cask <strong>in</strong> less than afortnight ago. You don't mean to tell me it's empty!''No, m'm,' says <strong>the</strong> cook, uncomfortably, 'it a<strong>in</strong>'t exactlyempty—but its tilted.'Byron did not long outlive <strong>the</strong> success of Our Boys.He died <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> month of April, 1884, at <strong>the</strong> age of fifty.
158 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>eroGenial, warm-hearted, light-hearted Byron! We couldhave better spared a better dramatist.I have left myself little time or space to deal with <strong>the</strong>act<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. I can give it only <strong>the</strong> merestglance. In 1870 <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no actor of command<strong>in</strong>gposition and, except for Marie Wilton, who had marriedand become Mrs Bancroft, no actress. Phelps <strong>was</strong> sixtysixand past <strong>the</strong> height of his powers. Ma<strong>the</strong>ws, Buckstoneand Webster, too, were old men and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir decl<strong>in</strong>e.A school of natural act<strong>in</strong>g—<strong>the</strong> teacup-and-saucer school—had been created by <strong>the</strong> Robertson comedies at <strong>the</strong>Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's and its novelty <strong>was</strong> overshadow<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>rank and file elsewhere. That <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluence of this school<strong>was</strong> wholly for good can hardly be ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed, though<strong>the</strong> artists who appeared orig<strong>in</strong>ally <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Robertsonianplays did not make <strong>the</strong> mistake committed by most ofthose who followed <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> revivals of Robertson'spieces. The seasoned and experienced actors and actresseswho orig<strong>in</strong>ally <strong>in</strong>terpreted Robertson at <strong>the</strong> Pr<strong>in</strong>ce ofWales's recognized that act<strong>in</strong>g is an imitation of life, nota reproduction; and so at <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> teacups-andsaucerswere handled <strong>in</strong> such a way as to be enterta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>gto <strong>the</strong> occupants of <strong>the</strong> back row of <strong>the</strong> gallery. Butalready, <strong>in</strong> 1870, <strong>the</strong>re were signs of an acquisition ofstrength beh<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> footlights. At <strong>the</strong> HaymarketTheatre, <strong>in</strong>fus<strong>in</strong>g new blood <strong>in</strong>to an age<strong>in</strong>g troupe, <strong>the</strong>re<strong>was</strong> appear<strong>in</strong>g a young actress who for many <strong>year</strong>s <strong>was</strong>to be <strong>the</strong> embodiment on <strong>the</strong> stage of fresh, glow<strong>in</strong>gwomanhood—Madge Robertson, a sister of <strong>the</strong> dramatist,still with us as Dame Madge Kendal. And as <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesadvanced, a young man with ascetic features and abeautiful voice made his debut at <strong>the</strong> now vanishedPr<strong>in</strong>cess's Theatre <strong>in</strong> Oxford Street, show<strong>in</strong>g promise thathas been richly fulfilled—a young man of <strong>the</strong> name ofForbes-Robertson. That divert<strong>in</strong>g low-comedian <strong>in</strong> petti-
The Theatre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 159coats—Mrs John Wood—also came to <strong>the</strong> front <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies; and march<strong>in</strong>g slowly forward <strong>was</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>ryoung man who <strong>was</strong> to stamp his name <strong>in</strong>delibly on stagehistory—Charles Wyndham. I could give a score of o<strong>the</strong>rnames perta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, but I forbear. Imust, however, aga<strong>in</strong> speak of Henry Irv<strong>in</strong>g who, afterelectrify<strong>in</strong>g audiences <strong>in</strong> 1871 as Mathias <strong>in</strong> The Bells,rose higher and higher <strong>in</strong> public esteem—an esteem whichculm<strong>in</strong>ated <strong>in</strong> a wide expression of sorrow when he fell,exhausted, at Bradford <strong>in</strong> 1905. It has been urgedaga<strong>in</strong>st this extraord<strong>in</strong>ary man that he did noth<strong>in</strong>g for<strong>the</strong> modern drama; and it must be confessed that hisambition <strong>was</strong> centred <strong>in</strong> himself. He aimed at be<strong>in</strong>gacknowledged as <strong>the</strong> greatest actor of <strong>the</strong> age, and to behailed as <strong>the</strong> legitimate successor of Garrick and of Kean;and he <strong>was</strong> content to achieve that aim, add<strong>in</strong>g lustre tohis call<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> process. But it <strong>was</strong> said of him, I th<strong>in</strong>kwith truth, that, such were his <strong>in</strong>herent gifts, his determ<strong>in</strong>ation,and his <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ite patience, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no walk <strong>in</strong>life <strong>in</strong> which he could not have succeeded. He <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>most dignified figure <strong>in</strong> any assembly, no matter howem<strong>in</strong>ent; and, break<strong>in</strong>g through a personality that <strong>was</strong>somewhat awe-<strong>in</strong>spir<strong>in</strong>g, he had a smile that almostbr<strong>in</strong>gs tears to one's eyes <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> recollection. F<strong>in</strong>ally, <strong>in</strong>1875, after an apprenticeship <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> prov<strong>in</strong>ces and a fewfugitive and <strong>in</strong>conspicuous appearances <strong>in</strong> London, <strong>the</strong>recame def<strong>in</strong>itely upon <strong>the</strong> scene that lovely lady, EllenTerry, later to be Irv<strong>in</strong>g's associate at <strong>the</strong> Lyceum. InApril of that <strong>year</strong> she acted Portia <strong>in</strong> a revival at <strong>the</strong>Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Wales's of The Merchant of Venice, under <strong>the</strong>celebrated Bancroft management; and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> familiarwords of Burke, spoken of a less fortunate woman,'surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardlyseemed to touch, a more delightful vision'. Cont<strong>in</strong>u<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> quotation, I can say, 'I saw her just above <strong>the</strong>
160 Sir Arthur P<strong>in</strong>erohorizon... glitter<strong>in</strong>g like <strong>the</strong> morn<strong>in</strong>g star, full of life andsplendour and joy.' An undimmed memory!To sum up, <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> a simpler<strong>the</strong>atre than <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre of to-day. It <strong>was</strong> a place ofcharm and mystery. Though its drama had a smallerrelation to facts than our drama now has, it <strong>was</strong> lesspretentious; and as it had less freedom, its practitionersmade less clamour. And it <strong>was</strong> as healthy and clean as<strong>the</strong> veriest fairy-tale. One recalls <strong>the</strong> warn<strong>in</strong>g given byHippolyte Ta<strong>in</strong>e to Anatole France after <strong>the</strong> publicationof Sylvestre Bonnard. 'Rema<strong>in</strong> where you are,' saidTa<strong>in</strong>e, 'and compensate us for so much contemporarytalent which has gone astray and, under pretext of present<strong>in</strong>gus with <strong>the</strong> truth, causes us to be disgusted withlife and with literature.' It <strong>was</strong> not possible—luckily, youdoubtless th<strong>in</strong>k—for <strong>the</strong> Drama to rema<strong>in</strong> what it <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> 'seventies; but for <strong>the</strong> rest of Ta<strong>in</strong>e's advice, perhapsit would be well for some of us to ponder those words at<strong>the</strong> present time.
§8Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith—and <strong>the</strong> TheatreBy HARLEY GRANVILLE-BARKERX HE 'seventies saw Tennyson's first play acted andSw<strong>in</strong>burne's Boihwell published, and <strong>the</strong>y heard Meredithlecture—a selected ga<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>g at <strong>the</strong> London Institutionheard him—upon Comedy and <strong>the</strong> Comic Spirit. Dramais a strong lure to creative m<strong>in</strong>ds; <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre—outlandishlittle world that it must seem, perverse, selfconscious!—as often f<strong>in</strong>ally repels <strong>the</strong>m, and is, for its ownpart, content with easier company. Throughout <strong>the</strong>n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century such alliance as <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> between<strong>the</strong> English <strong>the</strong>atre and English letters, <strong>was</strong> spasmodic,uneasy, unprofitable. Nei<strong>the</strong>r, it seemed, had much tobr<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r. Keats tried his juvenile hand at a play;Shelley completed one, but he could hardly have lookedfor its act<strong>in</strong>g. Byron wrote tremendous dramas, sublimatedblood-and-thunder; his name's magic ra<strong>the</strong>r than<strong>the</strong>ir own gave <strong>the</strong>m a short, galvanic life. Scott's <strong>in</strong>fluencebore dramatic fruit abroad, but our Victor Hugoswere Bulwer Lytton and Sheridan Knowles. There werefaults on both sides. Macready's diaries are <strong>in</strong>structiveread<strong>in</strong>g. He <strong>was</strong> passionate for <strong>the</strong> credit of his call<strong>in</strong>g.Shakespeare <strong>was</strong> his stand-by, but he received newauthors gladly and wrestled with <strong>the</strong>m for <strong>the</strong>ir salvation—a pa<strong>in</strong>ful process, for both parties, it would seem tohave been. Nor did he need a reputation to set him on <strong>the</strong>track of talent; he saluted Brown<strong>in</strong>g as a poet of great
162 Harley Granville-Barkeraccount upon a first read<strong>in</strong>g of Paracelsus. But (his owntouchy temper apart) we see his <strong>the</strong>atre as a poor schoolfor a renascent drama, too set <strong>in</strong> its methods, un<strong>in</strong>spir<strong>in</strong>g,<strong>the</strong> actor and his egoisms <strong>in</strong> firm possession; hehimself, poor man, plagued on all sides, and self-plagued.The ma<strong>in</strong> fault, however, may have been <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> nationaldisposition of <strong>the</strong> time towards a certa<strong>in</strong> moral contentment,new-found creature comfort and <strong>the</strong> fire side.Great drama with its emotional stirr<strong>in</strong>gs and <strong>the</strong> ironyof comedy, are enemies to content; and it is not <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atre's bus<strong>in</strong>ess to be at odds with its public, as itspublic will soon make pla<strong>in</strong>.Not till Meredith <strong>was</strong> dead did anyone know—though,know<strong>in</strong>g him, it might have been guessed—that <strong>the</strong> Essayon Comedy <strong>was</strong> but <strong>the</strong> critical shadow of a creative impulse ;not till <strong>the</strong> fragments of three or four plays were foundamong o<strong>the</strong>r work laid aside. He had liked <strong>in</strong> his old ageto talk of plays that he might have written, might stillwrite (though he <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n writ<strong>in</strong>g no more), had likedto scheme <strong>the</strong>m at length; elaborate fantastic comedies.But <strong>the</strong>se fragments he never fetched out. Well, he haddone enough not to be troubled by <strong>the</strong> thought of wha<strong>the</strong> might have done. It is for us to sigh over <strong>the</strong>m a little—more than a little.Sw<strong>in</strong>burne had kept his earliest plays with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atre's compass, whe<strong>the</strong>r with an eye to <strong>the</strong>ir act<strong>in</strong>g orno. Bothwell must be about 15,000 l<strong>in</strong>es long, and wouldoutlast a w<strong>in</strong>ter's night; but The Queen Mo<strong>the</strong>r, Rosamund,Chastelard, are physically actable at least 1 . We canhardly see him happy, though, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, amenableto its discipl<strong>in</strong>e, content with its compromis<strong>in</strong>gs ortolerant of its small follies. Because he saw Fechter give1For <strong>the</strong> benefit of those to whom such measurements meannoth<strong>in</strong>g, Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra is a little over threethousand l<strong>in</strong>es long.
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 163a stupid twist to a famous passage <strong>in</strong> O<strong>the</strong>llo he vowed hewould never see a play of Shakespeare's acted aga<strong>in</strong>.Ah! if men of letters were to be f<strong>in</strong>ally judged by <strong>the</strong>irworjst ra<strong>the</strong>r than <strong>the</strong>ir best, by <strong>the</strong>ir slips of syntax anderrors of taste, by <strong>the</strong> stuff that second thoughts send to<strong>the</strong> <strong>was</strong>te-paper basket! We conspire to forget a greatwriter's worst work. But second thoughts <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atreare apt to come too late, and best and worst must stand<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> moment's limelight toge<strong>the</strong>r.By 1873, at any rate, we have Sw<strong>in</strong>burne writ<strong>in</strong>g toJohn Morley:If ever accomplished this drama will certa<strong>in</strong>ly be a great work<strong>in</strong> one sense, for, except that translation from <strong>the</strong> Spanish of animproperly named comedy <strong>in</strong> 25 acts published <strong>in</strong> 1631, it will be<strong>the</strong> biggest (I fear) <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> language. But hav<strong>in</strong>g made a carefulanalysis of <strong>the</strong> historical events from <strong>the</strong> day of Rizzio's murderto that of Mary's flight <strong>in</strong>to England, I f<strong>in</strong>d that to cast <strong>in</strong>todramatic mould <strong>the</strong> events of those eighteen months it is necessaryto omit no detail, drop no l<strong>in</strong>k <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> cha<strong>in</strong>, if <strong>the</strong> work is to beei<strong>the</strong>r dramatically coherent or historically <strong>in</strong>telligible....And <strong>the</strong> completed mass of Bothwell stands defiant.What <strong>the</strong>re is to be said <strong>in</strong> favour of closet-drama—ofa work of art done <strong>in</strong> deliberate neglect of its propermedium—I really do not know. To a novelist or epic poet<strong>the</strong> exchange of freedom of narrative for <strong>the</strong> constra<strong>in</strong>t ofdialogue is <strong>in</strong> itself, surely, unprofitable, though <strong>the</strong>re besome ga<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> actuality and <strong>in</strong> directness of attack. But aplay's life lies <strong>in</strong> its amenity to act<strong>in</strong>g. It may be suitedto one sort of stage or ano<strong>the</strong>r; but it must be committedto human expression, and <strong>the</strong> possibilities of its artistry,however various, are yet dependent upon this, even as ahuman body's beauty dwells <strong>in</strong> its common uses. Aboutfive-sixths of Bothwell—say five ord<strong>in</strong>ary plays' lengths—is dramatically <strong>in</strong>ert. The speeches flow sonorously on.They are lengthy <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>mselves, but that need not condemn<strong>the</strong>m. If John Knox preaches us a sermon 370 l<strong>in</strong>es11-2
164 Harley Granville-Barkerlong—well, he <strong>was</strong> a man of many more words than this!But if <strong>the</strong> material is dramatic, <strong>the</strong> product is not. Thetrouble is that Sw<strong>in</strong>burne seldom, if ever, sets hischaracters free. He conceives <strong>the</strong>m, br<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>the</strong>m to asort of a birth; but he still speaks through <strong>the</strong>m, <strong>the</strong>y aremegaphones at his mouth. With freedom <strong>the</strong>y would doas all human be<strong>in</strong>gs do, contest, come to cross-purposes,give way, refuse to say <strong>the</strong> th<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>the</strong>y should say, standaltoge<strong>the</strong>r dumb, and be a dreadful nuisance to <strong>the</strong>irauthor, doubtless. How to round <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> aga<strong>in</strong> and face<strong>the</strong>m towards <strong>the</strong>ir dest<strong>in</strong>y? In that lies <strong>the</strong> art of <strong>the</strong>playwright. They can be brought with<strong>in</strong> conventions asformal as Rac<strong>in</strong>e's; but <strong>the</strong>y must at some time havebeen free. In <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre this freedom, as <strong>the</strong> actor<strong>in</strong>herits it, is a part of <strong>the</strong> natural order of th<strong>in</strong>gs, is<strong>in</strong>deed its fount. The closet-dramatist can with difficultyimag<strong>in</strong>e or allow for it.Tennyson's case <strong>was</strong> quite o<strong>the</strong>r. He <strong>was</strong> sixty-fivewhen he wrote Queen Mary, and people thought—toquote his son's biography—that to beg<strong>in</strong> publish<strong>in</strong>g playsat his age <strong>was</strong> a hazardous experiment. But, encouragedby Spedd<strong>in</strong>g, George Eliot and Lewes, he persevered.He had always liked <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, had been a constantplaygoer <strong>in</strong> early and middle life and ' regarded <strong>the</strong> dramaas one of <strong>the</strong> most humanis<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>in</strong>fluences... alwayshoped that <strong>the</strong> State, or <strong>the</strong> Municipalities.. . would produceour great English historical plays, so that <strong>the</strong>ymight form part of <strong>the</strong> Englishman's ord<strong>in</strong>ary educationalcurriculum'. (For how much longer is that hopeto be deferred!) 'For himself, we are fur<strong>the</strong>r told, 'he<strong>was</strong> aware that he wanted <strong>in</strong>timate knowledge of <strong>the</strong>mechanical details necessary for <strong>the</strong> modern stageHis dramas were written with <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>tention that actorsshould edit <strong>the</strong>m for <strong>the</strong> stage, keep<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m at <strong>the</strong> highpoetic level'.
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 165A great man's simplicities are endear<strong>in</strong>g. Queen Mary,produced at <strong>the</strong> Lyceum on <strong>the</strong> 16th of April, 1876, <strong>was</strong>edited <strong>in</strong>deed. Twenty-seven characters were cut outaltoge<strong>the</strong>r. Still, <strong>the</strong> Poet Laureate had but to write hisfirst play and London's best <strong>the</strong>atre would stage it,London's best actor, fresh from <strong>the</strong> glories of Hamlet andO<strong>the</strong>llo, content himself with <strong>the</strong> shadowy Philip ofSpa<strong>in</strong>. Irv<strong>in</strong>g made Philip, however—he could hardlyhelp it—<strong>the</strong> most notable th<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> play, and Whistlerhas made <strong>the</strong> figure of him memorable. The portrait is <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> Metropolitan Museum <strong>in</strong> New York. Will an EnglishNational Theatre ever buy it back aga<strong>in</strong>? Irv<strong>in</strong>g'sbiographer <strong>in</strong>sists that Tennyson himself did <strong>the</strong> edit<strong>in</strong>g;but if so, no doubt he took expert advice—Irv<strong>in</strong>g's own,possibly. It <strong>was</strong> good advice on <strong>the</strong> whole. Cranmer'sspiritual conflicts, which went by <strong>the</strong> board, are tamedrama: and <strong>the</strong> rewritten ' <strong>the</strong>atrical' end<strong>in</strong>g (to be found<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Biography) is as legitimate, and better of its k<strong>in</strong>d,than <strong>the</strong> spun-out allusiveness of <strong>the</strong> published play;with Elizabeth, Cecil and <strong>the</strong> rest forecast<strong>in</strong>g history,while Mary does her dy<strong>in</strong>g 'off' as a classic hero<strong>in</strong>eshould.There were obvious flaws <strong>in</strong> Tennyson's modest approachto playwrit<strong>in</strong>g; even, perhaps, <strong>in</strong> its modesty.He speaks—or his son speaks for him—of drama and <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atre as a sort of House of Lords and House of Commons,with <strong>the</strong> play as a Bill sent down to be pulledabout a bit, rewritten a little and at last turned out asan effective Act. Such practical politics make for poorart. He th<strong>in</strong>ks of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, apparently, as a place ofmechanical craftsmanship, more or less, <strong>in</strong> which anabsolute art of drama is adulterated and turned to account.This is just true enough to be dangerously mislead<strong>in</strong>g;but one sees where <strong>the</strong> error is bred. Whatmangl<strong>in</strong>g and botch<strong>in</strong>g has not <strong>the</strong> absolute drama of
166 Harley Granville-BarkerShakespeare survived? Tennyson went to school toShakespeare; no English poet turn<strong>in</strong>g playwright but by<strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ct does that! The trouble with him <strong>was</strong> that he neverquite grasped what he had to learn, nor <strong>the</strong> significance ofwhat he did learn <strong>the</strong>re. There is much that is f<strong>in</strong>e <strong>in</strong>Queen Mary. Tennyson is a poet, and he can frame characterand see history <strong>in</strong> terms of drama. There is even, atmoments, someth<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> absolute dramatist <strong>in</strong> him,for he can project a scene, fully significant only <strong>in</strong> itsaction, conceived so, evidently, not plotted out on paper.Had he trusted to his native dramatic <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ct, whateverits worth, it would f<strong>in</strong>ally have been better for his play.There is, of course, no such arbitrary division betweendrama and <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre as it suited him to assume. Whydo English men of letters f<strong>in</strong>d it so hard to approach <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atre unselfconsciously? Some native dramatic <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ctwe all have. Act<strong>in</strong>g, s<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g and danc<strong>in</strong>g are,fundamentally, as nearly <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ctive as art can be. Thelaws of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, about which he <strong>was</strong> so graciouslydiffident! There are none. There are none, at least, that<strong>the</strong> true dramatist cannot remake to his purpose as hegoes along. The <strong>the</strong>atre is an element. We ought all tofeel at home <strong>in</strong> it; but, whe<strong>the</strong>r or no, we must plunge<strong>in</strong>to it, to s<strong>in</strong>k or swim, as one takes a plunge <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong>sea. Learn a few strokes by all means; but if we arenever to be beyond <strong>the</strong> need of swimm<strong>in</strong>g bladders, weare not <strong>in</strong> our element, and <strong>the</strong>re's an end. The bestbra<strong>in</strong>s are not needed to make a swimmer. We can cryout as we s<strong>in</strong>k that swimm<strong>in</strong>g is a very vulgar art. But allthat need be learnt of <strong>the</strong> laws of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre is soonlearnt, and <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> sooner it is forgotten <strong>the</strong> better,even as we cease to use an alphabet when we know howto read. The truly great dramatists, who have made oldth<strong>in</strong>gs new <strong>in</strong> drama, ga<strong>in</strong>ed this unconscious masterybetimes. Shakespeare did, so did Moliere, and Ibsen.
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 167Then <strong>the</strong>y made laws and broke <strong>the</strong>m, remade <strong>the</strong>m andbroke <strong>the</strong>m aga<strong>in</strong>, and probably gave not much thoughtto <strong>the</strong> matter at all. Drama <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir language; <strong>the</strong>yspoke it and did not hesitate. But two centuries and ahalf of va<strong>in</strong> repetition (such as <strong>the</strong> Hea<strong>the</strong>n use) have,not unnaturally, turned Shakespeare's dramatic dialectlargely to gibberish.Blank verse is still <strong>the</strong> chief pillar of <strong>the</strong> superstition,an accepted vestment for serious drama, <strong>the</strong> silk hatof respectability. Poets almost <strong>in</strong>evitably turn to it; and,with no pretentions to be<strong>in</strong>g a poet, one can str<strong>in</strong>g outten-syllable l<strong>in</strong>es by <strong>the</strong> yard—<strong>the</strong>y will pass for poetry.Ridicule has glanced from its tough sides; superstitionsare seldom killed by ridicule. The Critic could not laughit from <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre; <strong>the</strong> audience would make merry overTilbur<strong>in</strong>a and Whiskerandos and weep <strong>the</strong> next night a<strong>the</strong>roics little less absurd. Sheridan himself wrote Pizarro.For nearly ano<strong>the</strong>r century <strong>the</strong> th<strong>in</strong>g flourished <strong>in</strong> fullturgidity. It had its phases, its turns of fashion. By 1870<strong>the</strong> orotund school of act<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> decl<strong>in</strong>e, and suchaltiloquence as Sheridan Knowles and Bulwer Lytton hadpurveyed to it <strong>was</strong> consequently <strong>in</strong> less demand. WestlandMarston plied a tamer pen; W. S. Gilbert—at so uncongeniala task—a very dull one. Tom Taylor <strong>was</strong>writ<strong>in</strong>g a series of conscientious, mild, historical tragedies.His Anne Boleyn <strong>was</strong> staged at <strong>the</strong> Haymarket Theatre<strong>in</strong> March 1875. Here is <strong>the</strong> end of it. Anne, on her wayto execution, is say<strong>in</strong>g farewell to her attendants:I have not much to give, but I've had orderedSome little books of high and holy thoughtsFor <strong>the</strong>e and Madge and Ann here and <strong>the</strong> rest.See that <strong>the</strong>y have <strong>the</strong>m. I ask Heaven's forgivenessFor all unk<strong>in</strong>d deeds or words or thoughtsDone, said or thought by me to anyone.Chief I pray pardon of <strong>the</strong> Lady MaryFor aught she may have suffered at my hands
168 Harley Granville-BarkerOr for my cause. And, that done, <strong>the</strong>re is noth<strong>in</strong>gBut thanks and still thanks for your lov<strong>in</strong>g-k<strong>in</strong>dnessIn this my sore strait and my doleful prison.'T<strong>was</strong> hence I set out for my coronation.All is as it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n. Only a QueenWho goes to take a higher crown than England's.Harmless, lullaby stuff! Tom Taylor, it is true, <strong>was</strong> nottaken very seriously as a poet. But his plays ranked high<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>atrical respectability; <strong>the</strong>y show <strong>the</strong> furnish<strong>in</strong>g of<strong>the</strong> arena <strong>in</strong>to which Tennyson <strong>was</strong> to step a <strong>year</strong>later.We do not look for such colourless, ambl<strong>in</strong>g, 'rightbutter-woman's rank to market' writ<strong>in</strong>g from him. And,to be fair, at a climax we shall not f<strong>in</strong>d it. Tennyson isTennyson, and can rise <strong>in</strong> some sort to an occasion. Butopen <strong>the</strong> play at random. Here is Gardner at Pole'sreception.We, <strong>the</strong> Lords spiritual and TemporalAnd Commons here <strong>in</strong> Parliament assembled,Present<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> whole body of this nationOf England, and dom<strong>in</strong>ions of <strong>the</strong> same,Do make most humble suit unto your MajestiesIn our own name and that of all <strong>the</strong> State,That by your gracious means and <strong>in</strong>tercessionOur supplication be exhibitedTo <strong>the</strong> Lord Card<strong>in</strong>al Pole....But he is read<strong>in</strong>g a petition. The passage must probablybe a dull one, anyway. Turn a few pages, though. Maryis now rat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Lord Chancellor:I come for counsel and ye give me feuds,Like dogs that set to watch <strong>the</strong>ir master's gate,Fall, when <strong>the</strong> thief is ev'n with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> walls,To worry<strong>in</strong>g one ano<strong>the</strong>r. My Lord Chancellor,You have an old trick of offend<strong>in</strong>g us;And but that you are art and part with usIn purg<strong>in</strong>g heresy, well we might, for thisYour violence and much roughness to <strong>the</strong> LegateHave shut you from our counsels....
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 169Now she is excus<strong>in</strong>g herself to Philip:Alas, <strong>the</strong> Council will not hear of war.They say your wars are not <strong>the</strong> wars of England.They will not lay more taxes on a landSo hunger-nipt and wretched; and you knowThe crown is poor. We have given <strong>the</strong> church-lands back;The nobles would not; nay, <strong>the</strong>y clapt <strong>the</strong>ir handsUpon <strong>the</strong>ir swords when ask'd; and <strong>the</strong>refore GodIs hard upon <strong>the</strong> people. What's to be done?Sir, I will move <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> your cause aga<strong>in</strong>,And we will raise us loans and subsidiesAmong <strong>the</strong> merchants; and Sir Thomas GreshamWill aid us. There is Antwerp and <strong>the</strong> Jews.And so on and so forth.Why blank verse, or any sort of verse at all for <strong>the</strong>stage? Dry den raised <strong>the</strong> question; but, after that, it <strong>was</strong>generally assumed to be <strong>the</strong> right sort of th<strong>in</strong>g. Itsaes<strong>the</strong>tic merits apart, <strong>the</strong> Elizabethan dramatists hadsound practical reasons for cl<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g to it. It is easy stuffto write, as we have said; and <strong>the</strong>y had no time to <strong>was</strong>te.It is easy to learn too; and <strong>the</strong> actors had less. Besides,as what is too stupid to be said can be sung, so willsound<strong>in</strong>g blank verse cover a mighty lot of nonsense.But <strong>the</strong> grand dramatic merit of verse, of course, is thatit is <strong>in</strong> itself an emotional th<strong>in</strong>g; and <strong>the</strong> appeal of dramawill be first or last—first and last, very often—to <strong>the</strong>emotions. Verse is hypnotic; <strong>the</strong> mere rhythm of it canfasc<strong>in</strong>ate and hold <strong>the</strong> hearer. It can often be toohypnotic so spoken; one has seen audiences saved fromsleep only by <strong>the</strong> extreme discomfort of <strong>the</strong> stalls <strong>the</strong>ywere wedged <strong>in</strong>—not always saved, moreover. Thescientific side of <strong>the</strong> matter may be found broached <strong>in</strong>a most <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g pamphlet written for <strong>the</strong> EnglishAssociation by Sir Philip Hartog, On <strong>the</strong> Relation ofPoetry to Verse. He quotes <strong>the</strong> psychologists, speaks of<strong>the</strong> central attention which we consciously offer to asubject, and of <strong>the</strong> uncontrolled 'marg<strong>in</strong>al' attention
170 Harley Granville-Barkerwhich wanders. The function of rhythm and rhyme is toabsorb this marg<strong>in</strong>al attention so that we may be whollysurrendered to <strong>the</strong> spell of <strong>the</strong> poet. He quotes Bergson:The object of art is to lull to sleep <strong>the</strong> active, or ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> resist<strong>in</strong>gpowers of our personality, and thus to br<strong>in</strong>g us to a stateof perfect docility, <strong>in</strong> which we realise <strong>the</strong> idea suggested to us,and sympathise with <strong>the</strong> sentiment expressed (to us).And very appositely, Mr Middleton Murry:Rhythm and metre... have <strong>the</strong> power of throw<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> reader<strong>in</strong>to a state of heightened susceptibility to emotional suggestion...<strong>the</strong> recurrence of a regular rhythmical beat has an almost hypnoticeffect; it completely detaches our attention from <strong>the</strong> world ofevery day.. .and if it is regular and monotonous enough, actuallysends us to sleep... .The poet's bus<strong>in</strong>ess is to take advantage of<strong>the</strong> tendency, and <strong>in</strong>stead of lett<strong>in</strong>g it reach its logical physicalconclusion, by an <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ite rhythmical variation of <strong>the</strong> metricalbasis, to keep us <strong>in</strong>tensely aware. There is a background of metricalsameness separat<strong>in</strong>g us like a curta<strong>in</strong> from <strong>the</strong> practical world;<strong>the</strong>re is a richness of <strong>the</strong> rhythmical variation to make <strong>the</strong> world<strong>in</strong> which we are worthy of our most delighted attention.Yet, strangely enough, he does not cite poetic drama and<strong>the</strong> common experience of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre as <strong>the</strong> most patentpossible evidence <strong>in</strong> his favour 1 . Moreover, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> suggestion(but Sir Philip dissents from this) that it isrhythmical variation which keeps us <strong>in</strong>tensely aware andprovokes our ' delighted attention' lies one of <strong>the</strong> chief,though more recondite, secrets of <strong>the</strong> writ<strong>in</strong>g of dramaticverse; and ignorance of <strong>the</strong>se simple, fundamental factsof <strong>the</strong> art of speech and command of attention (<strong>the</strong> ABCof <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre) is a chief cause of <strong>the</strong> literary dramatist'sfailure.What is wrong, from a dramatic po<strong>in</strong>t of view, withthis verse of Tennyson's? It is not, presumably, badverse <strong>in</strong> itself (I do not pretend to know what good verse,<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> abstract, is, or if <strong>the</strong>re be any such th<strong>in</strong>g. But I1 Perhaps Mr Middleton Murry does; I cannot refer to his book asI write.
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 171do know better than to depreciate Tennyson lightly), andif it were, it could certa<strong>in</strong>ly be matched by passages fromShakespeare himself, who could, on occasion, write ascrudely, flatly, consciencelessly, as you please. ButShakespeare, at his worst, could not be more thanmomentarily undramatic. He writes as by <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ct tobe spoken, not to be read. His verse is naturally rhetorical;and it is always more or less charged with emotion;for nobody, speak<strong>in</strong>g to a crowd (and <strong>the</strong> actor is speak<strong>in</strong>gto <strong>the</strong> audience as well as to his fellow-actors) will keepto cut and dried thought alone. It has someth<strong>in</strong>g aboutit, <strong>the</strong>n, that Sir Philip Hartog's rhyme and rhythmalone cannot give; it has an added carry<strong>in</strong>g power.This <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> po<strong>in</strong>t from which Shakespeare and hisfollowers started. They had to capture and hold an unrulyaudience, and <strong>the</strong>ir chief means to do it <strong>was</strong> rhetoricalemotional verse. Shakespeare's own progress as an artistcan well be studied (and should be, by any poet anxiousto turn dramatist) by trac<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> development of hisverse-mak<strong>in</strong>g, from its early lyric fervour—which issometimes monotonous and dramatically <strong>in</strong>effective 1 —and from <strong>the</strong> command<strong>in</strong>g, but unyield<strong>in</strong>g rhetoric of <strong>the</strong>Histories, to <strong>the</strong> masterly breadth and delicacy andvariety, to <strong>the</strong> subtle suggestiveness of character andmood to be found <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> later plays. But we are too aptto admire <strong>the</strong>se mature elaborations (one suspects that<strong>the</strong>y chiefly <strong>in</strong>fluenced Tennyson) and forget <strong>the</strong> fundamentalstrength of simple emotional rhetoric still underly<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong>m. Shakespeare never forgot that first need. In<strong>the</strong> greater plays <strong>the</strong> emotional tension is high throughout.But should he feel <strong>the</strong> strength of a scene and its carry<strong>in</strong>gpower slacken<strong>in</strong>g he is ready enough with a piece of pure1This is one good reason for suppos<strong>in</strong>g that such plays as Love'sLabours Lost and A Midsummer Night's Dream may have been writtenra<strong>the</strong>r for special audiences than for <strong>the</strong> public <strong>the</strong>atre.
172 Harley Granville-Barkerrhetoric; and he never comes to despise even <strong>the</strong> conventionalclaptrap of <strong>the</strong> rhymed couplet, for <strong>the</strong> effectivewhipp<strong>in</strong>g up of a scene's end.Tennyson's verse <strong>was</strong>, almost <strong>in</strong>evitably, of ano<strong>the</strong>rcast. He had written all his life to be read ra<strong>the</strong>r thanspoken. He wrote reflectively, analytically. This mightnot have mattered—it never mattered with Shakespeare—had<strong>the</strong>re been <strong>the</strong> primary emotion beneath;but <strong>the</strong>re so seldom is. His verse does not vibrate. Hewrote now pa<strong>the</strong>tically, now fancifully; and he couldnever fail <strong>in</strong> dignity.Cranmer's confession of faith:Good people, every man at time of deathWould fa<strong>in</strong> set forth some say<strong>in</strong>g that may liveAfter his death and better humank<strong>in</strong>d;For death gives life's last word <strong>the</strong> power to live,And, like <strong>the</strong> stone cut epitaph, rema<strong>in</strong>After <strong>the</strong> vanished voice, and speak to men....(One remembers Buck<strong>in</strong>gham's farewell. Fletcher's workis it—which is also as apt to lack underly<strong>in</strong>g passion?Tennyson suffers not at all by comparison here.)The tale of his burn<strong>in</strong>g:Then Cranmer lifted his left hand to heavenAnd thrust his right <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> bitter flame;And cry<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> his deep voice more than once,'This hath offended—this unworthy hand!'So held it till it all <strong>was</strong> burned, beforeThe flame had reached his body; I stood near—Mark'd him—he never uttered moan of pa<strong>in</strong>:He never stirr'd or wri<strong>the</strong>d, but, like a statueUnmov<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> greatness of <strong>the</strong> flame,Gave up <strong>the</strong> ghost....(How f<strong>in</strong>e! But it is narrative, and not immediatelydramatic. He outruns <strong>the</strong> allowance of narrative properto a play, for it is a very small one. A temptation, this,to most practised writers turn<strong>in</strong>g dramatist!)
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 173Then <strong>the</strong>re is <strong>the</strong> pretty fancy—as she hears <strong>the</strong> milkmaids<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g—of Elizabeth'sI would I were a milkmaid,To s<strong>in</strong>g, love, marry, churn, brew, bake and die.Then have my simple headstone by <strong>the</strong> church,And all th<strong>in</strong>gs lived and ended honestly.I could not if I would. I am Harry's daughterThis is au<strong>the</strong>ntic Tennyson, and holds its own for a duemoment.Philip is written somewhat flatly—his ma<strong>in</strong> bus<strong>in</strong>ess isto be bored and yet more bored by England and his queen—but with true economy and admirable irony. And who,that ever heard him, cannot hear Irv<strong>in</strong>g say<strong>in</strong>gBy St James I do protest,Upon <strong>the</strong> faith and honour of a Spaniard,I am vastly grieved to leave your Majesty.Simon, is supper ready?But Mary herself has, as she should have, <strong>the</strong> best of<strong>the</strong> play; and Tennyson is, at <strong>the</strong> crucial moments,spontaneously at his best <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> writ<strong>in</strong>g of her. Thecalculated effectiveness of <strong>the</strong> second act's end<strong>in</strong>g withits echoedMy foes are at my feet and I am Queen.could be carpentered up by any one, and <strong>the</strong> slash<strong>in</strong>g ofPhilip's picture is commonplace. But her lonely thrill<strong>in</strong>gto <strong>the</strong> hope of <strong>the</strong> un<strong>born</strong> child:He hath awaked! He hath awaked!He stirs with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> darkness!...The second Pr<strong>in</strong>ce of Peace—The great un<strong>born</strong> defender of <strong>the</strong> Faith,Who will avenge me of m<strong>in</strong>e enemies—He comes, and my star rises.The stormy Wyatts and Northumberlands,The proud ambitions of Elizabeth,And all her fiercest partisans—are paleBefore my star!
174 Harley Granville-BarkerThe light of this new learn<strong>in</strong>g wanes and dies:The ghost of Lu<strong>the</strong>r and Zu<strong>in</strong>glius fadeInto <strong>the</strong> deathless hell which is <strong>the</strong>ir doomBefore my star!This is <strong>the</strong> real th<strong>in</strong>g, and its feel<strong>in</strong>g, as if spontaneously,moulds its form. The miserable forsaken figure of <strong>the</strong>last act is, <strong>in</strong> itself, well pictured. The acclaimed gesture ofAliceMary(sitt<strong>in</strong>g onYour Grace hath a low voice.How dare you say it?Even for that he hates me. A low voiceLost <strong>in</strong> a wilderness where none can hear!A voice of shipwreck on a shoreless sea!A low voice from <strong>the</strong> dust and from <strong>the</strong> grave.There, am I low enough now?<strong>the</strong> ground)is legitimate and f<strong>in</strong>e. But, as we see, <strong>the</strong>se good momentsare reflective, analytic moments. And <strong>the</strong> action as awhole is too often irrelevant, loose-knit and slack. Itspulse beats feebly.Incidental virtues will not make a play. Tennysondevises characters, <strong>in</strong>cidents, pretty effects by <strong>the</strong> dozenthat are significant and <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>mselves; yet<strong>the</strong>y do not cohere <strong>in</strong>to drama. He turned <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>ctivelyto Elizabethan form; its freedom <strong>in</strong>vited him, but henever saw where its <strong>in</strong>ner life lay. Emotional rhetoric,which is at <strong>the</strong> very heart of it, which susta<strong>in</strong>s andsuffices it at its simplest, <strong>was</strong>, as we argued, alien to histemper. But, this apart, he <strong>was</strong> for an elaboration ofaction that it would have taxed Shakespeare's maturestskill to contrive, articulate, keep proportioned, each partof it seem<strong>in</strong>g to go its own pace, diversity yet yield<strong>in</strong>gto <strong>the</strong> unity of <strong>the</strong> whole. The freedom of <strong>the</strong> form—once a pla<strong>in</strong> tale is departed from—makes almost <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>itevariation possible; so many comb<strong>in</strong>ations, contrasts ofscene with scene, this sort of character with that, <strong>the</strong>tragic, <strong>the</strong> comic, verse set aga<strong>in</strong>st prose, this sort ofverse aga<strong>in</strong>st that. A most delicate mechanism, which,
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 175<strong>the</strong>n, like all mechanism, must be put to <strong>the</strong> test; ei<strong>the</strong>rit will go, will act, ga<strong>in</strong> a keener life <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> actor's hands,or it will not. And <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong>spr<strong>in</strong>g that sets it go<strong>in</strong>g?Each art has its master-secret; and here is <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre's;hidden from <strong>the</strong> wise often, and made pla<strong>in</strong> to <strong>the</strong> foolish.We need not suppose that <strong>the</strong> Elizabethan dramatistsat down to calculate his play's construction to a nicety,or thought of aes<strong>the</strong>tic laws. He had mastered this <strong>in</strong>strumentof <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, <strong>in</strong> its crudity, <strong>in</strong> its delicacies;and, upon it, given his <strong>the</strong>me, he improvised. That isnearer <strong>the</strong> truth, if not quite true. We, after <strong>the</strong> event,with but a grop<strong>in</strong>g knowledge of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>strument, mustanalyse <strong>the</strong> scant evidence of <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ted play, re-create<strong>the</strong> actors and <strong>the</strong>ir act<strong>in</strong>g and <strong>the</strong>ir audience too, <strong>in</strong> ourimag<strong>in</strong>ation. This is work for <strong>the</strong> critic and historian, andfor actors also to re-<strong>in</strong>terpret, if <strong>the</strong>y can, this yesterday<strong>in</strong> terms of to-day. But what writer, <strong>in</strong>tent on creativeexpression, will cumber himself with mach<strong>in</strong>ery that hecannot set go<strong>in</strong>g, that, set go<strong>in</strong>g somehow, will go its ownway, not his. Yet this, <strong>in</strong> effect, is what <strong>the</strong> playwrightdoes who writes a play <strong>in</strong> Elizabethan form, know<strong>in</strong>gnoth<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> Elizabethan <strong>the</strong>atre. This is what Tennysondid.Search beh<strong>in</strong>d form and method to f<strong>in</strong>d his <strong>in</strong>tention<strong>the</strong>re, and what good quality we f<strong>in</strong>d! Take such a sceneas that short one <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fifth act, before <strong>the</strong> Palace:A light burn<strong>in</strong>g with<strong>in</strong>. Voices of <strong>the</strong> night pass<strong>in</strong>g.<strong>in</strong> which form and method are as much his own as <strong>the</strong>matter, and matter and method are at one, and how aliveit is! But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> play is a mach<strong>in</strong>e that, set uponits road, will not go; it has to be pushed.Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, reject<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, is yet far more <strong>the</strong>dramatist than Tennyson. He is, to beg<strong>in</strong> with, <strong>the</strong>natural rhetorician; he speaks and s<strong>in</strong>gs, ra<strong>the</strong>r than
176 Harley Granville-Barkerwrites, and whatever else he may lack, it will not beemotion. His determ<strong>in</strong>ation <strong>in</strong> Bothwell to leave noth<strong>in</strong>gunsaid, cannot result <strong>in</strong> that most selective of literaryforms, a play; but it is amaz<strong>in</strong>g how much emotionalpressure he can susta<strong>in</strong> beh<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong> hundred-l<strong>in</strong>e, twohundred,three-hundred-l<strong>in</strong>e speeches from which hepours history. When <strong>the</strong> work <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> do<strong>in</strong>g he wouldvisit his friends, an act or two under his arm, and amaze<strong>the</strong>m by 'shriek<strong>in</strong>g, thunder<strong>in</strong>g, whisper<strong>in</strong>g, flut<strong>in</strong>g'through scene after scene of it, far <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> night. Theywere left stunned or sleep<strong>in</strong>g, one supposes; <strong>in</strong>capable,certa<strong>in</strong>ly, of any such th<strong>in</strong>g as 'delighted attention'after an hour or more's buffet<strong>in</strong>g by <strong>the</strong> charged monotonousverse. One gratefully borrows Mr MiddletonMurry's phrase and, read<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> play now, only wishesthat Sw<strong>in</strong>burne could have profited by his dictum.Aga<strong>in</strong>, open <strong>the</strong> book almost at random:Tell him, night and dayAnd fear and hope are grown one th<strong>in</strong>g to meSave for his sake: and say m<strong>in</strong>e hours and thoughtsAre as one fire devour<strong>in</strong>g gra<strong>in</strong> by gra<strong>in</strong>This pile of tares and drift of crumbl<strong>in</strong>g brandsThat shrivels up <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> slow breath of timeThe part of life that keeps me far from him.The heap of dusty days that sunder usI would I could burn all at once awayAnd our lips meet across <strong>the</strong> wild red flameThence unconsumed, be<strong>in</strong>g made a keener fireThan any burns on earth. Say that m<strong>in</strong>e eyesAche with my heart and thirst with all my ve<strong>in</strong>s,Requir<strong>in</strong>g him <strong>the</strong>y have not. Say my lifeIs but as sleep and my sleep very lifeThat dreams upon him...and so on for a hundred and n<strong>in</strong>ety l<strong>in</strong>es more. It isMary's message to Bothwell. The th<strong>in</strong>g soon becomes <strong>in</strong>tolerable.As <strong>the</strong> old country say<strong>in</strong>g has it: ' Tisn't <strong>the</strong>hunt<strong>in</strong>g nor <strong>the</strong> hurdles that makes <strong>the</strong> holes <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>horses' hoofs, 'tis <strong>the</strong> hammer, hammer, hammer, on <strong>the</strong>
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 177hard high road'. Not a fence, not a ditch, nor a check anda little detour will Sw<strong>in</strong>burne allow us. Never<strong>the</strong>less, ifnot drama, it is <strong>the</strong> true stuff of drama. It has au<strong>the</strong>nticimpulse, it is not <strong>the</strong> mere fill<strong>in</strong>g out of an Elizabethanpattern. The play is not made for act<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong>re is no giveand take about it, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne is its only actor. He is <strong>the</strong>audience too, <strong>the</strong> hypnotiser and <strong>the</strong> hypnotised. It hasits story but hardly a plan, and no complexity of structureat all. It has no preparation, nor <strong>in</strong>trigue, variety,surprise, relief—nei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> arts nor <strong>the</strong> artifices of <strong>the</strong>dramatist are called on. It is at a constant climax; asunhealthy a condition <strong>in</strong> a play as fever <strong>in</strong> a human be<strong>in</strong>g,for when climax is due, <strong>the</strong>re will be no strength left. YetSw<strong>in</strong>burne too can rise to an occasion. Time and aga<strong>in</strong>great moments occur. If <strong>the</strong>y rested upon ample foundation,we should have great drama.The scene of Rizzio's murder is a f<strong>in</strong>e th<strong>in</strong>g. Its end<strong>in</strong>g:Queen. What have ye made my servant?Ruthven.A dead dog.His turn is done of service.Darnley.Yea, stark dead?Ruthven. They stabbed him through and through with edge on edgeTill all <strong>the</strong>ir po<strong>in</strong>ts met <strong>in</strong> him; <strong>the</strong>re he liesCast forth <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> outer lodge, a piteous knaveAnd poor enough to look on.Queen.I am content.Now must I study how to be revenged.Darnley. Nay, th<strong>in</strong>k not that way; make it not so much:Be warned, and wiser.Queen.Must I not, my lord?You have taught me worthier wisdom than of words;And I will lay it up aga<strong>in</strong>st my heart.—pregnant, sure and tuned like a bell. The compass<strong>in</strong>gof Darnley's death at Kirk o' Field is true drama, if toolong drawn out. Mary with Bothwell and Jane Gordonat Dunbar; when he leaves her; at Lochleven; at Langside—<strong>the</strong>reis enough dramatic passion <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>se scenesB 12
178 Harley Granville-Barkeralone to furnish half-a-dozen plays. The last scene of allis <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>est. It starts subduedly. Herries is plead<strong>in</strong>gwith <strong>the</strong> Queen, even now, when she stands on <strong>the</strong> shoreat Solway, even at this last moment to stay.Go not hence:You shall f<strong>in</strong>d no man's faith or love on earthLike <strong>the</strong>irs that here cleave to you.So he ends, and she answersI have foundAnd th<strong>in</strong>k to f<strong>in</strong>d no hate of men on earthLike <strong>the</strong>irs that here beats on me.Quotation is unfair: <strong>the</strong> scene is an entity and <strong>the</strong> verysimple form of it helps to give it beauty and power. Mary'ssombre wrath rolls up like a wave, sentence crown<strong>in</strong>gsentence, to its first height. Then it subsides to <strong>the</strong> softnessofCome, friends,I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong> fisher's boat hath hoised up sailThat is to bear none but one friend and me:Here must my true men and <strong>the</strong>ir queen take leave,And each keep thought of o<strong>the</strong>r. My fair page,Before <strong>the</strong> man's change darken on your ch<strong>in</strong>I may come back to ride with you at re<strong>in</strong>To a more fortunate field: howe'er that be,Ride you right on with better hap, and liveAs true to one of merrier days than m<strong>in</strong>eAs on that "night to Mary once your queen.Douglas, I have not won a word of you:What would you do to have me tarry?George Douglas.Die.Douglas speaks no o<strong>the</strong>r word throughout <strong>the</strong> scene. Thestill figure stand<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>re, passionate <strong>in</strong> silence, madeeloquent by one word! Who shall say that Sw<strong>in</strong>burnehad not <strong>the</strong> stuff of <strong>the</strong> dramatist <strong>in</strong> him?But <strong>the</strong> boy's devotion only st<strong>in</strong>gs her now:I lack not love it seems <strong>the</strong>n at my last.That word <strong>was</strong> bitter; yet I blame it not,
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 179Who would not have sweet words upon my lipsNor <strong>in</strong> m<strong>in</strong>e ears at part<strong>in</strong>g. I should goAnd stand not here as on a stage to playMy last part out <strong>in</strong> Scotland; I have beenToo long a queen too little...And so she passes to <strong>the</strong> quite magnificent apostrophethat ends <strong>the</strong> play:—Meth<strong>in</strong>ks <strong>the</strong> sand yet cleav<strong>in</strong>g to my footShould not with no more words be shaken off,Nor this my country from my part<strong>in</strong>g eyesPass unsaluted; for who knows what <strong>year</strong>May see us greet hereafter? Yet take heed,Ye that have ears, and hear me; and take note,Ye that have eyes, and see with what last looksM<strong>in</strong>e own take leave of Scotland; seven <strong>year</strong>s s<strong>in</strong>ceDid I take leave of my fair land of France,My joyous mo<strong>the</strong>r, mo<strong>the</strong>r of my joy,Weep<strong>in</strong>g; and now with many a woe betweenAnd space of seven <strong>year</strong>s' darkness, I departFrom this distempered and unnatural earthThat casts me out unmo<strong>the</strong>red, and go forthOn this grey sterile bitter gleam<strong>in</strong>g seaWith nei<strong>the</strong>r tears nor laughter, but a heartThat from <strong>the</strong> softest temper of its bloodIs turned to fire and iron. If I live,If God pluck not all hope out of my hand,If aught of all m<strong>in</strong>e prosper, I that goShall come back to men's ru<strong>in</strong>, as a llameThe w<strong>in</strong>d bears down, that grows aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>d,And grasps it with great hands, and w<strong>in</strong>s its way,And w<strong>in</strong>s its will, and triumphs; so shall ILet loose <strong>the</strong> fire of all my heart to feedOn <strong>the</strong>se that would have quenched it. I will makeFrom sea to sea one furnace of <strong>the</strong> landWhereon <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>d of war shall beat its w<strong>in</strong>gsTill <strong>the</strong>y wax fa<strong>in</strong>t with hopeless hope of rest,And with one ra<strong>in</strong> of men's rebellious bloodExt<strong>in</strong>guish <strong>the</strong> red embers. I will leaveNo liv<strong>in</strong>g soul of <strong>the</strong>ir blasphem<strong>in</strong>g faithWho war with monarchs; God shall see me reignAs he shall reign beside me, and his foesLie at my foot with m<strong>in</strong>e; k<strong>in</strong>gdoms and k<strong>in</strong>gsShall from my heart take spirit, and at my soul12-2
180 Harley Granville-BarkerTheir souls be k<strong>in</strong>dled to devour for preyThe people that would make its prey of <strong>the</strong>mAnd leave God's altar stripped of sacramentAs all k<strong>in</strong>gs' heads of sovereignty, and makeBare as <strong>the</strong>ir thrones his temples; I will setThe old th<strong>in</strong>gs of his hol<strong>in</strong>ess on highThat are brought low, and break beneath my feetThese new th<strong>in</strong>gs of men's fashion; I will sitAnd see tears flow from eyes that saw me weepAnd dust and ashes and <strong>the</strong> shadow of deathCast from <strong>the</strong> block beneath <strong>the</strong> axe that fallsOn heads that saw me humbled; I will do it,Or bow m<strong>in</strong>e own down to no royal endAnd give my blood for <strong>the</strong>irs if God's will be,But come back never as I now go forthWith but <strong>the</strong> hate of men to track my wayAnd not <strong>the</strong> face of any friend alive.Mary Beaton. But I will never leave you till you die.—ends it, but for Mary Beaton's echo<strong>in</strong>g murmur; wistful,s<strong>in</strong>ister. Sw<strong>in</strong>burne had evidently planned to l<strong>in</strong>kup his Trilogy by this strange recurr<strong>in</strong>g note of fatidicdevotion to <strong>the</strong> Queen, blent with <strong>the</strong> patient hunger forvengeance to fall on her for Chastelard's betrayal, ahunger to be sated at last. But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> densities of Bothwell<strong>the</strong> effect is lost.This last scene is true drama; it will answer to any test.If it seems not to fit <strong>the</strong> work-a-day <strong>the</strong>atre, a <strong>the</strong>atre canbe moulded for it. Au<strong>the</strong>ntic art has never failed of <strong>in</strong>terpretationyet. Could Sw<strong>in</strong>burne but have discipl<strong>in</strong>edhimself, not to <strong>the</strong> mechanics of a given stage, but to <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>evitable rigour of dramatic form; could he have relaxedand lost himself a little <strong>in</strong> its amenities (Had henot been Sw<strong>in</strong>burne! Yes, it always comes to that), hisplays would have won <strong>the</strong>ir <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> end; and thisnone too opulent <strong>the</strong>atre of ours would have won adramatist and poet as well.What of Meredith's place <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> story? It wouldseem, by virtue of but a few scattered scraps of dialogue,
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 181to be one of no consequence at all. He <strong>was</strong> that th<strong>in</strong>gleast regarded <strong>in</strong> England, a conscious literary artist; he<strong>was</strong> self-regardful too, perhaps <strong>in</strong> excess. He set out toplease himself by what he wrote; happy enough no doubt,if he pleased o<strong>the</strong>r people as well, but <strong>in</strong>capable ofswerv<strong>in</strong>g an <strong>in</strong>ch from his path to make matters easierfor <strong>the</strong>m, apt <strong>in</strong>deed to lead <strong>the</strong>m defiantly a little bitmore of a dance. It <strong>was</strong> not mere wilfulness, ra<strong>the</strong>r asort of religion with him to show <strong>the</strong> barbarian that art,<strong>in</strong> its mak<strong>in</strong>g or lik<strong>in</strong>g, must be a spiritually athleticth<strong>in</strong>g.He <strong>was</strong> fifty when he wrote <strong>the</strong> Essay on Comedy. Itsums up much of his literary faith, and lets us see,<strong>in</strong>cidentally, how far he <strong>was</strong>—and he knew it—fromanyth<strong>in</strong>g like popularity.'There are pla<strong>in</strong> reasons', he says, 'why <strong>the</strong> Comic poet is nota frequent apparition; and why <strong>the</strong> great Comic poet rema<strong>in</strong>swithout a fellow. A society of cultivated men and women isrequired, where<strong>in</strong> ideas are current and <strong>the</strong> perceptions quick, tha<strong>the</strong> may be supplied with matter and an audience. The semibarbarismof merely giddy communities, and feverish emotionalperiods, repel him; and also a state of marked social <strong>in</strong>equality of<strong>the</strong> sexes; nor can he whose bus<strong>in</strong>ess is to address <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d beunderstood where <strong>the</strong>re is not a moderate degree of <strong>in</strong>tellectualactivity'Moreover, to touch and k<strong>in</strong>dle <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d through laughter,demands more than sprightl<strong>in</strong>ess, a most subtle delicacy. Thatmust be a natal gift <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Comic poet.... People are ready tosurrender <strong>the</strong>mselves to witty thumps on <strong>the</strong> back, breast andsides; all except <strong>the</strong> head: and it is <strong>the</strong>re that he aims. He mustbe subtle to penetrate. A correspond<strong>in</strong>g acuteness must exist towelcome him.'That is not <strong>the</strong> attitude, those are not <strong>the</strong> demands of<strong>the</strong> popular writer. He talks ostensibly of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atreonly, of Moliere, Congreve, Wycherley, admits that s<strong>in</strong>ce<strong>the</strong> time when ' our second Charles' set up as patron of aComedy of Manners
182 Harley Granville-BarkerOur tenacity of national impressions has caused <strong>the</strong> word<strong>the</strong>atre... to prod <strong>the</strong> Puritan nervous system like a satanie<strong>in</strong>strument...and with some cause! He praises Congreve reservedly,Moliere without reserve, and puts Le Misanthrope on apedestal. He goes fur<strong>the</strong>r afield, rounds <strong>in</strong> Menander,Aristophanes, Goldoni and <strong>the</strong> Spaniards; it is.a feastof sound criticism, brilliantly served. And <strong>the</strong> conclusionof <strong>the</strong> matter is thatOur traditions are unfortunate. The public taste is with <strong>the</strong> idlelaughers, and still <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>es to follow <strong>the</strong>m....Our bad traditions of comedy affect us not only on <strong>the</strong> stage,but <strong>in</strong> our literature, and may be tracked <strong>in</strong>to our social life. Theyare <strong>the</strong> ground of <strong>the</strong> heavy moraliz<strong>in</strong>gs by which we are outweariedWhat would such a public make of a Molifere, or of sucha play as Le Misanthrope*!The fable is th<strong>in</strong>. Our pungent contrivers of plots would sec no<strong>in</strong>dication of life <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> outl<strong>in</strong>es. The life of <strong>the</strong> comedy is <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>idea. As with <strong>the</strong> s<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> skylark out of sight, you mustlove <strong>the</strong> bird to be attentive to <strong>the</strong> song, so <strong>in</strong> this highest flightof Comic Muse, you must love pure Comedy warmly to understand<strong>the</strong> Misanthrope: you must be receptive of <strong>the</strong> idea of Comedy.And to love Comedy you must know <strong>the</strong> real world, and knowmen and women well enough not to expect too much of <strong>the</strong>m,though you may still hope for good.Le Misanthrope, truly, <strong>was</strong> at first a failure <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre,butIt is one of <strong>the</strong> French titles to honour that this qu<strong>in</strong>tessentialcomedy.. .<strong>was</strong> ultimately understood and applauded.ForOne excellent test of <strong>the</strong> civilization of a country, as I havesaid, I take to be <strong>the</strong> flourish<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> Comic idea and Comedy;and <strong>the</strong> test of true Comedy is that it shall awaken thoughtfullaughter....A perception of <strong>the</strong> comic spirit gives high fellowship. Youbecome a citizen of <strong>the</strong> selecter world, <strong>the</strong> highest we know of <strong>in</strong>connection with our old world, which is not supermundane. Look<strong>the</strong>re for your unchallengeable upper class!
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 183If <strong>the</strong> essay is a w<strong>in</strong>dow <strong>in</strong>to Meredith's m<strong>in</strong>d, it is alsosometh<strong>in</strong>g of a key to his own artistic development; forthis may be held to have reached its maturity <strong>in</strong> TheEgoist. Now The Egoist is pure Comedy <strong>in</strong> conception andexecution; moreover, it is even constructed as a playshould be. Certa<strong>in</strong> superfluities allowed for, it falls perfectly<strong>in</strong>to acts and scenes. It is hard to believe that, atsome time or o<strong>the</strong>r, he did not th<strong>in</strong>k of it as a play. Andnow, or a little later, <strong>the</strong> fragments of The Sentimentalistsmust have begun to accumulate <strong>in</strong> his desk. Handwrit<strong>in</strong>gdoes someth<strong>in</strong>g to date <strong>the</strong>m, but <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>ship of <strong>the</strong>subject to passages <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> essay does more. There <strong>the</strong>yare at any rate, his sketches for such a comedy as Molieremight have put a hand to. They were found after hisdeath, and (aga<strong>in</strong> by <strong>the</strong> evidence of <strong>the</strong> handwrit<strong>in</strong>g) hehad worked over <strong>the</strong>m from time to time <strong>in</strong> his later<strong>year</strong>s. They are parts, evidently, of a full-length play,<strong>the</strong>y come from <strong>the</strong> first two acts of it; and <strong>the</strong> plot of<strong>the</strong> whole can be guessed at—as slight a plot as is LeMisanthrope's; <strong>the</strong> comedy <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> idea. Some scraps are<strong>in</strong> prose, some <strong>in</strong> verse, sometimes <strong>the</strong> verse had been rewritten<strong>in</strong>to prose. J. M. Barrie took <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> hand, put<strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> sequence, tak<strong>in</strong>g little away, add<strong>in</strong>g noth<strong>in</strong>g ofhis own but a stage direction here and <strong>the</strong>re, and <strong>the</strong>ywere staged at <strong>the</strong> Duke of York's <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>in</strong> 1910.'"The Sentimentalists": an unf<strong>in</strong>ished play by GeorgeMeredith'—<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong>, for <strong>the</strong> few, a thrill <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> verysight of <strong>the</strong> placard. But public taste had not changedgreatly <strong>in</strong> those thirty <strong>year</strong>s; nor has ano<strong>the</strong>r twentychanged it, except, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, somewhat for <strong>the</strong> worse.It <strong>was</strong>, and is, still dom<strong>in</strong>ated by <strong>the</strong> 'idle laughers'.The Sentimentalists, it may be owned, is not a full, or afully flavoured, meal of enterta<strong>in</strong>ment; <strong>the</strong> civil 'thankyou'it ga<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>was</strong> perhaps all that could be expected.And yet, and yet, one asked—and is still ask<strong>in</strong>g!—is <strong>the</strong>re
182 Harley Granville-BarkerOur tenacity of national impressions has caused <strong>the</strong> word<strong>the</strong>atre...to prod <strong>the</strong> Puritan nervous system like a satanic<strong>in</strong>strument...and with some cause! He praises Congreve reservedly,Moliere without reserve, and puts Le Misanthrope on apedestal. He goes fur<strong>the</strong>r afield, rounds <strong>in</strong> Menander,Aristophanes, Goldoni and <strong>the</strong> Spaniards; it is.a feastof sound criticism, brilliantly served. And <strong>the</strong> conclusionof <strong>the</strong> matter is thatOur traditions are unfortunate. The public taste is with <strong>the</strong> idlelaughers, and still <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>es to follow <strong>the</strong>m....Our bad traditions of comedy affect us not only on <strong>the</strong> stage,but <strong>in</strong> our literature, and may be tracked <strong>in</strong>to our social life. Theyare <strong>the</strong> ground of <strong>the</strong> heavy moraliz<strong>in</strong>gs by which we are outwearied....What would such a public make of a Moliere, or of sucha play as Le Misanthrope?The fable is th<strong>in</strong>. Our pungent contrivers of plots would see no<strong>in</strong>dication of life <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> outl<strong>in</strong>es. The life of <strong>the</strong> comedy is <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>idea. As with <strong>the</strong> s<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> skylark out of sight, you mustlove <strong>the</strong> bird to be attentive to <strong>the</strong> song, so <strong>in</strong> this highest flightof Comic Muse, you must love pure Comedy warmly to understand<strong>the</strong> Misanthrope: you must be receptive of <strong>the</strong> idea of Comedy.And to love Comedy you must know <strong>the</strong> real world, and knowmen and women well enough not to expect too much of <strong>the</strong>m,though you may still hope for good.Le Misanthrope, truly, <strong>was</strong> at first a failure <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre,butIt is one of <strong>the</strong> French titles to honour that this qu<strong>in</strong>tessentialcomedy.. .<strong>was</strong> ultimately understood and applauded.ForOne excellent test of <strong>the</strong> civilization of a country, as I havesaid, I take to be <strong>the</strong> flourish<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> Comic idea and Comedy;and <strong>the</strong> test of true Comedy is that it shall awaken thoughtfullaughter....A perception of <strong>the</strong> comic spirit gives high fellowship. Youbecome a citizen of <strong>the</strong> selecter world, <strong>the</strong> highest we know of <strong>in</strong>connection with our old world, which is not supermundane. Look<strong>the</strong>re for your unchallengeable upper class!
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 183If <strong>the</strong> essay is a w<strong>in</strong>dow <strong>in</strong>to Meredith's m<strong>in</strong>d, it is alsosometh<strong>in</strong>g of a key to his own artistic development; forthis may be held to have reached its maturity <strong>in</strong> TheEgoist. Now The Egoist is pure Comedy <strong>in</strong> conception andexecution; moreover, it is even constructed as a playshould be. Certa<strong>in</strong> superfluities allowed for, it falls perfectly<strong>in</strong>to acts and scenes. It is hard to believe that, atsome time or o<strong>the</strong>r, he did not th<strong>in</strong>k of it as a play. Andnow, or a little later, <strong>the</strong> fragments of The Sentimentalistsmust have begun to accumulate <strong>in</strong> his desk. Handwrit<strong>in</strong>gdoes someth<strong>in</strong>g to date <strong>the</strong>m, but <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>ship of <strong>the</strong>subject to passages <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> essay does more. There <strong>the</strong>yare at any rate, his sketches for such a comedy as Moli&remight have put a hand to. They were found after hisdeath, and (aga<strong>in</strong> by <strong>the</strong> evidence of <strong>the</strong> handwrit<strong>in</strong>g) hehad worked over <strong>the</strong>m from time to time <strong>in</strong> his later<strong>year</strong>s. They are parts, evidently, of a full-length play,<strong>the</strong>y come from <strong>the</strong> first two acts of it; and <strong>the</strong> plot of<strong>the</strong> whole can be guessed at—as slight a plot as is LeMisanthrope's; <strong>the</strong> comedy <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> idea. Some scraps are<strong>in</strong> prose, some <strong>in</strong> verse, sometimes <strong>the</strong> verse had been rewritten<strong>in</strong>to prose. J. M. Barrie took <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> hand, put<strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> sequence, tak<strong>in</strong>g little away, add<strong>in</strong>g noth<strong>in</strong>g ofhis own but a stage direction here and <strong>the</strong>re, and <strong>the</strong>ywere staged at <strong>the</strong> Duke of York's <strong>the</strong>atre <strong>in</strong> 1910.'"The Sentimentalists": an unf<strong>in</strong>ished play by GeorgeMeredith'—<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong>, for <strong>the</strong> few, a thrill <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> verysight of <strong>the</strong> placard. But public taste had not changedgreatly <strong>in</strong> those thirty <strong>year</strong>s; nor has ano<strong>the</strong>r twentychanged it, except, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre, somewhat for <strong>the</strong> worse.It <strong>was</strong>, and is, still dom<strong>in</strong>ated by <strong>the</strong> 'idle laughers'.The Sentimentalists, it may be owned, is not a full, or afully flavoured, meal of enterta<strong>in</strong>ment; <strong>the</strong> civil ' thankyou'it ga<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>was</strong> perhaps all that could be expected.And yet, and yet, one asked—and is still ask<strong>in</strong>g!—is <strong>the</strong>re
184 Harley Granville-Barkerno <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> art of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre for its own sake? Hadtwo movements of a Mozart quartet been snatched fromoblivion, how amateurs and critics would have descantedon <strong>the</strong>m, study<strong>in</strong>g every page, every bar! Yet h£re <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong> one piece of dramatic work done by a great man justdead, a master of character and wit, of prose and verse,and it <strong>was</strong> casually appraised at its mere enterta<strong>in</strong>mentvalue. Did Meredith's ghost sit sardonically chuckl<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> author's box, ask<strong>in</strong>g what <strong>the</strong> devil one had takenall <strong>the</strong> trouble for? Not displeased, though, to see <strong>the</strong>sefigures of his fancy brought to life, and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> glamour of<strong>the</strong> footlights! But he had said his say upon <strong>the</strong> matterlong before. We turn back to <strong>the</strong> essay:In all countries <strong>the</strong> middle class presents <strong>the</strong> public which,fight<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> world, and with a good foot<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fight, knows <strong>the</strong>world best....Of this class <strong>in</strong> England, a large body, nei<strong>the</strong>r Puritan norBacchanalian, have a sentimental objection to face <strong>the</strong> study of<strong>the</strong> actual world. They take up disda<strong>in</strong> of it, when its truths appearhumiliat<strong>in</strong>g: when <strong>the</strong> facts are not immediately forced on <strong>the</strong>m,<strong>the</strong>y take up <strong>the</strong> pride of <strong>in</strong>credulity. They live <strong>in</strong> a hazy atmospherethat <strong>the</strong>y suppose an ideal one... .Philosopher and Comicpoet are of a cous<strong>in</strong>ship <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> eye <strong>the</strong>y cast on life: and <strong>the</strong>y areequally unpopular with our wilful English of <strong>the</strong> hazy region and<strong>the</strong> ideal that is not to be disturbedThus, for want of <strong>in</strong>struction <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Comic idea, we lose a largeaudience among our cultivated middle class that we should expectto support Comedy, <strong>the</strong> sentimentalist is as averse as <strong>the</strong> Puritanand as <strong>the</strong> Bacchanalian.There <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> very <strong>the</strong>me of <strong>the</strong> comedy he began towrite, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> reason that he never troubled tof<strong>in</strong>ish it; <strong>the</strong>re, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre for a few nights, thirty<strong>year</strong>s or so later, sat <strong>the</strong> cultivated middle class—respectfully bored, most of <strong>the</strong>m, doubtless.Our traditions are unfortunate <strong>in</strong>deed if we cannotbr<strong>in</strong>g some imag<strong>in</strong>ation to <strong>the</strong> mak<strong>in</strong>g of this morsel ofgenius (for it is noth<strong>in</strong>g less) complete enough for enjoyment.Have we not humour enough to see <strong>the</strong> humour
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 185and an ear for <strong>the</strong> symphonic prose of <strong>the</strong> chorus ofSentimentalists croon<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> ecstasy over <strong>the</strong> eloquence ofProfessor Spiral? Or read <strong>the</strong> scene between Lyra andAstraea, between <strong>the</strong> wife pursued by her husband—May no woman of my acqua<strong>in</strong>tance marry a man of twenty<strong>year</strong>s her senior. She marries a gigantic limpet. At that period ofhis life a man becomes too voraciously constant.—and <strong>the</strong> widow, <strong>the</strong> 'dedicated widow', pursued bysuitor after suitor, boldly, timidly, slyly, most slyly ofall, we surmise, by <strong>the</strong> great Professor Spiral himself evenwhile he pledges her to 'sovereign disengagement'. Thispromises to be <strong>the</strong> play's plot, and he to hold a candle(and a bright one possibly) to Tartufe himself. Read <strong>the</strong>scene, read it aloud. It has one parallel at least <strong>in</strong> Englishdramatic literature, <strong>the</strong> counsell<strong>in</strong>gs of Rosal<strong>in</strong>d andCelia <strong>in</strong> Arden; and it suffers not at all by <strong>the</strong> comparison.Lyra, Oh! Pluriel, ask me of him! I wish I were less sure hewould not be at <strong>the</strong> next corner I turn.Astraea. You speak of your husband strangely, Lyra.Lyra. My head is out of a sack. I managed my escape from himthis morn<strong>in</strong>g by renounc<strong>in</strong>g bath and breakfast; and what a relief,to be <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> railway carriage alone!—that is, when <strong>the</strong> eng<strong>in</strong>esnorted. And if I set eyes on him with<strong>in</strong> a week, he will hear sometruths. His idea of marriage is, <strong>the</strong> tak<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> woman <strong>in</strong>tocustody. My hat is on, and on goes Pluriel's. My foot is on <strong>the</strong>stairs; I hear his foot beh<strong>in</strong>d me. In my boudoir I am alone onem<strong>in</strong>ute, and <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> door opens to <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>evitable. I pay a visit,he is pass<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> house as I leave it. He will not even affect surprise.I belong to him—I am cat's mouse. And he will look dot<strong>in</strong>gon me <strong>in</strong> public. And when I speak to anybody, he is that fearfulpicture of all smirks. Fl<strong>in</strong>g off a kid glove after a round of calls;feel your hand—<strong>the</strong>re you have me now that I am out of him formy half a day, if for as long.Astraea. This is one of <strong>the</strong> world's happy marriages !Lyra. This is one of <strong>the</strong> world's choice dishes! and I have itplanted under my nostrils eternally.. .And you are <strong>the</strong> cunn<strong>in</strong>gest of fencers, tongue or foils. You
186 Harley Granville-Barkerlead me to talk of myself, and I hate <strong>the</strong> subject. By <strong>the</strong> way,you have practised with Mr Arden.Astraea. A tiresome <strong>in</strong>structor, who lets you pass his guard tocompliment you on a hit.Lyra. He ra<strong>the</strong>r w<strong>in</strong>s me.Astraea. He does at first.Lyra. Beg<strong>in</strong>s Plurieliz<strong>in</strong>g, without <strong>the</strong> law to back him, does he?Astraea. The fenc<strong>in</strong>g lessons are at an end.Lyra. The duets with Mr Swith<strong>in</strong>'s violoncello cont<strong>in</strong>ue?'Astraea. He broke through <strong>the</strong> melody.Lyra. There were read<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong> poetry with Mr Osier, I recollect.Astraea. His own compositions became obtrusive.Lyra. No fenc<strong>in</strong>g, no music, no poetry! No West Coast ofAfrica ei<strong>the</strong>r, I suppose.Astraea. Very well! I am on my defence. You at least shall notmisunderstand me, Lyra. One <strong>in</strong>tense regret I have; that I didnot live <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> Amazons. They were free from thisquestion of marriage; this babble of love. Why am I so persecuted?He will not take a refusal. There are sacred reasons. I am supportedby every woman hav<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> sense of her dignity. I am perverted,burlesqued by <strong>the</strong> fury of wrath I feel at <strong>the</strong>ir <strong>in</strong>cessant pursuit....Laugh at me, half my time I am laugh<strong>in</strong>g at myself. I shouldrega<strong>in</strong> my pride if I could be resolved on a step. I am strong toresist; I have not strength to move.Lyra. I see <strong>the</strong> sph<strong>in</strong>x of Egypt!Astraea. And all <strong>the</strong> while I am a manufactory of gunpowder <strong>in</strong>this quiet old-world Sabbath circle of dear good souls, with <strong>the</strong>irstereotyped <strong>in</strong>terjections and orchestra of enthusiasms; <strong>the</strong>irtaper<strong>in</strong>g delicacies; <strong>the</strong> rejoic<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>y have <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir common agreementon all created th<strong>in</strong>gs. To <strong>the</strong>m it is restful. It spurs me tofly from rooms and chairs and beds and houses. I sleep hardly acouple of hours. Then <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> early morn<strong>in</strong>g air, out with <strong>the</strong>birds; I know no o<strong>the</strong>r pleasure....Lyra. What does <strong>the</strong> Dame say?Astraea. Sighs over me! Just a little madden<strong>in</strong>g to hear.Lyra. When we feel we have <strong>the</strong> strength of giants, and arebidden to sit and smile! You should rap out some of our oldsweet-<strong>in</strong>nocent garden oaths with her. ' Carnation! Dame!' Thatused to make her dance on her seat. 'But, dearest Dame, it is asnatural an impulse for women to have that relief as for men; andnatural will out, begonia! it will!' We ran through <strong>the</strong> book ofbotany for devilish objurgations. I do believe our misconductcaused us to be handed to <strong>the</strong> good man at <strong>the</strong> altar, as <strong>the</strong> rightcorrective. And you were <strong>the</strong> worst offender.
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 187Astraea. Was I? I could be now, though I am so changed acreature.Lyra. You enjoy <strong>the</strong> studies with your Spiral, come IAstraea. Professor Spiral is <strong>the</strong> one honest gentleman here. Hedoes homage to my pr<strong>in</strong>ciples. I have never been troubled by him;no silly h<strong>in</strong>ts or side-looks—you know, <strong>the</strong> dog at <strong>the</strong> forbiddenbone.Lyra. A grand orator.Astraea. He is. You fix on <strong>the</strong> smallest of his gifts. He is<strong>in</strong>tellectually and morally superior.Lyra. Praise of that k<strong>in</strong>d makes me ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>e to prefer his<strong>in</strong>feriors. He fed gobble-gobble on your puffs of <strong>in</strong>cense. I coughedand scraped <strong>the</strong> gravel; quite <strong>in</strong> va<strong>in</strong>; he tapped for more andmore.Astraea. Professor Spiral is a th<strong>in</strong>ker; he is a sage. He giveswomen <strong>the</strong>ir due.Lyra. And he is a bachelor too—or consequently.Astraea. If you like you may be as playful with me as <strong>the</strong> Lyraof our maiden days used to be. My dear, my dear, how glad I amto have you here! You rem<strong>in</strong>d me that I once had a heart. It willbeat aga<strong>in</strong> with you beside me, and I shall look to you for protection.A novel request from me. From annoyance, I mean. Ithas entirely altered my character. Sometimes I am afraid to th<strong>in</strong>kof what I <strong>was</strong>, lest I should suddenly romp, and perform pirouettesand cry ' Carnation!' There is <strong>the</strong> bell. We must not be late when<strong>the</strong> professor condescends to sit for meals.Lyra. That r<strong>in</strong>gs healthily <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> professor.Astraea. Arm <strong>in</strong> arm, my Lyra.Lyra. No Pluriel yet!(<strong>the</strong>y enter <strong>the</strong> house)This is about a third of it; and, for all its discursive air,it is, as dramatic dialogue should be, so closely knit as tomake extract difficult. It is ' artificial' comedy, of course.Not that <strong>the</strong> epi<strong>the</strong>t is more than <strong>the</strong> label of a methodas little artificial and as much as any good writ<strong>in</strong>g meantto make a particular effect must be. So is Mozart's musicartificial. Whatever its method, this is true dramatic dialogue,lucid, dynamic, and as full of melody as Mozart is.Ano<strong>the</strong>r scene survives, a night scene <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> gardenbetween Astraea and young Arden her suitor (<strong>the</strong>re hasbeen much about him already) who, we may be sure, is
188 Harley Granville-Barkerdest<strong>in</strong>ed to w<strong>in</strong> her. It is <strong>in</strong> verse, and probably from anearlier draft of <strong>the</strong> play 1 . Here is <strong>the</strong> start of it.SCENE VI.Astraea, Arden.Astraea. Pardon me if I do not hear you well.Arden, I will not even th<strong>in</strong>k you barbarous.Astraea. I am. I am <strong>the</strong> object of <strong>the</strong> chase.Arden. The huntsman drags <strong>the</strong> wood <strong>the</strong>n, and not you.Astraea. At any <strong>in</strong>stant I am forced to run,Or turn <strong>in</strong> my defence; how can I beO<strong>the</strong>r than barbarous? You are <strong>the</strong> cause.Arden. No: heaven that made you beautiful's <strong>the</strong> cause.Astraea. Say, earth, that gave you <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>cts. Br<strong>in</strong>g me downTo <strong>in</strong>st<strong>in</strong>cts! When by chance I speak awhileWith our professor, you appear <strong>in</strong> haste,Full cry to sight aga<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> miss<strong>in</strong>g hare.Away ideas ! All that's div<strong>in</strong>est flies !I have to bear <strong>in</strong> m<strong>in</strong>d how young you are.Arden. You have only to look up to me four <strong>year</strong>sInstead of forty!Astraea. Sir! 2Arden.There's my misfortune!And worse that, young, I love as a young man.Could I but quench <strong>the</strong> fire, I might concealThe youthfulness offend<strong>in</strong>g you so much.Astraea. I wish you would. I wish it earnestly.Arden.Astraea.Arden.Astraea.Arden.Impossible. I burn.You should not burn.'Tis more than I! 'Tis fire. It masters Will.You would not say 'Should not' if you knew fire.It seizes. It devours.Dry wood!Cold wit!How cold you can be! but be cold, for sweetYou must be. And your eyes are m<strong>in</strong>e: with <strong>the</strong>mI see myself: unworthy to usurpThe place I hold a moment. While I lookI have my happ<strong>in</strong>ess.Astraea.You should look higher.1 If my memory serves, it had at some later time been partlyredrafted <strong>in</strong>to prose.2 She is, we remember here, <strong>the</strong> widow of '<strong>the</strong> venerable ProfessorTowers.'
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 189Arden, Through you to <strong>the</strong> highest. Only through you! ThroughyouThe mark I may atta<strong>in</strong> is visible,And I have strength to dream of w<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g it.You are <strong>the</strong> bow that speeds <strong>the</strong> arrow: youThe glass that br<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>the</strong> distance nigh. My worldIs lum<strong>in</strong>ous through you, pure heavenly,But hangs upon <strong>the</strong> rose's outer leaf,• Not next her heart. Astraea! my own beloved!Astraea. We may be excellent friends. And I have faults.Arden.Astraea.Name <strong>the</strong>m: I am hunger<strong>in</strong>g for more to love.I waver very constantly; I haveNo fixity of feel<strong>in</strong>g or of sight.I have no courage: I can often dreamOf dar<strong>in</strong>g: when I wake I am <strong>in</strong> dread.I am <strong>in</strong>constant as a butterfly,And shallow as a brook with little fish!Strange little fish, that tempt <strong>the</strong> small boy's net,But at a touch straight dive!I am anyone's, and no one's! I am va<strong>in</strong>.Praise of my beauty lodges <strong>in</strong> my ears.The lark reels up with it; <strong>the</strong> night<strong>in</strong>galeSobs bleed<strong>in</strong>g; <strong>the</strong> flowers nod; I could believeA poet, though he praised me to my face....Meredith has here forged a verse all his own, and all hisplay's own, too. It is light and swift and sparkl<strong>in</strong>g, avehicle for wit as well as emotion. It is eloquent butnever orotund. It has artifice enough to keep it <strong>in</strong> keywith <strong>the</strong> rest of <strong>the</strong> play, with <strong>the</strong> Sentimentalists and<strong>the</strong>ir preciosities, never so much as to rob it of romance.He avoids <strong>the</strong> tempt<strong>in</strong>g error of <strong>the</strong> rhymed couplet,which would have seemed too calculated. The sceneis, <strong>in</strong> fact, as <strong>the</strong> play is, for all of its <strong>in</strong>completeness,someth<strong>in</strong>g unique <strong>in</strong> English Literature.What Meredith lost <strong>in</strong> los<strong>in</strong>g this medium of <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atre is very obvious. He speaks of Moliere writ<strong>in</strong>g' purely, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> simplest language, <strong>the</strong> simplest of Frenchverse'; of his wit aslike a runn<strong>in</strong>g brook, with <strong>in</strong>numerable fresh lights on it at everyturn of <strong>the</strong> wood, through which its bus<strong>in</strong>ess is to f<strong>in</strong>d a way. It
190 Harley Granville-Barkerdoes not run <strong>in</strong> search of obstructions, to be noisy over <strong>the</strong>m: butwhere dead leaves and viler substances are heaped along <strong>the</strong> course,its natural song is heightened. Without effort, and with nodazzl<strong>in</strong>g flashes of achievement, it is full of heal<strong>in</strong>g; <strong>the</strong> wit ofgood breed<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong> wit of wisdom.Strange qualities are <strong>the</strong>y, for <strong>the</strong> author of One of ourConquerors and Lord Ormont and his Am<strong>in</strong>ta to admire?There is <strong>the</strong> po<strong>in</strong>t: he did admire <strong>the</strong>m (who does not?)and strove after <strong>the</strong>m (aga<strong>in</strong> who does not?) as best hecould. The notion that such men as Meredith are wilfully,mischievously obscure is an impert<strong>in</strong>ence. They havemuch to express and, left with <strong>the</strong>mselves for an audience,<strong>the</strong> pla<strong>in</strong> th<strong>in</strong>g seems hardly worth say<strong>in</strong>g, for it is knownalready. But let Meredith <strong>the</strong> talker start a bright idea,Meredith <strong>the</strong> listener will set him ref<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g it, and ref<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>gaga<strong>in</strong>, twist<strong>in</strong>g it this way and that till it is runn<strong>in</strong>g exhausted<strong>in</strong> a circle—a vicious circle—and, expressed atlast, may drop dead. This is <strong>the</strong> danger run by all men ofteem<strong>in</strong>g m<strong>in</strong>ds, driven <strong>in</strong> on <strong>the</strong>mselves by neglect. Theeasy popularity of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre br<strong>in</strong>gs worse dangers,heaven knows! He <strong>was</strong> little likely to have been caught<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>se. See how he works and works for his privatesatisfaction on this fragment that <strong>was</strong> never to see <strong>the</strong>light. But <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre compels a man at least to <strong>the</strong>virtues of lucidity, of simplicity, of economy. There is <strong>the</strong>audience of average men and women, and you must makeyour mean<strong>in</strong>g clear to <strong>the</strong>m as you go along.And <strong>in</strong> los<strong>in</strong>g Meredith, what did <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>atre lose? Nogreat <strong>in</strong>fluence upon its course, perhaps. By <strong>the</strong> 'seventies<strong>the</strong> play of artifice had had its day; <strong>the</strong> ground <strong>was</strong>fallow and ready for Ibsen and <strong>the</strong> 'naturalists' when<strong>the</strong>y came. He would have stood <strong>in</strong> drama as <strong>in</strong> fiction,brilliantly alone! Very much, probably, as <strong>in</strong> Frenchdrama Rostand stands to-day; and Rostand is a child<strong>in</strong> artistic force beside him. He would have owned,perhaps, to k<strong>in</strong>ship with Congreve; but not cordially. He
Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith 191allows Sheridan one slight<strong>in</strong>g sentence <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> essay, willhave none of Wycherley, labels Goldsmith (justly) asfarce-writer, and mentions practically no o<strong>the</strong>r Englishdramatist at all. He turns, as to <strong>the</strong> sun, to Moliere; andhere is a certa<strong>in</strong> weakness <strong>in</strong> his position which mighthave been reflected <strong>in</strong> his work. Drama is, <strong>in</strong>evitably, <strong>the</strong>most national of <strong>the</strong> arts; for, its writ<strong>in</strong>g apart, it mustcommand native <strong>in</strong>terpretation. And if, as Meredithcompla<strong>in</strong>s, <strong>the</strong> English have not risen to appreciation of<strong>the</strong> Comedy of Idea, it may be because ideas as such donot much <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>the</strong>m. A reproach to <strong>the</strong>m, doubtless;but a va<strong>in</strong> reproach for <strong>the</strong> would-be dramatist to make,who must not only write for <strong>the</strong>m, but enshr<strong>in</strong>e <strong>the</strong>m as<strong>the</strong>y are <strong>in</strong> his writ<strong>in</strong>g. To poetry and humour, <strong>the</strong>English will respond: ideas <strong>the</strong>y f<strong>in</strong>d <strong>in</strong>human. But <strong>the</strong>creator ousts <strong>the</strong> critic, and, as this one fragment of aplay shows, Meredith would have found his feet <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>atre, could have made a place of his own <strong>the</strong>re andgiven us <strong>in</strong> drama as <strong>in</strong> fiction a few splendidly refractedpictures of his time. And we might have had to-day halfa dozen of his plays, <strong>the</strong> product of his maturity, of thathumorous sane m<strong>in</strong>d, as abid<strong>in</strong>g refreshment to our own.Tennyson, Sw<strong>in</strong>burne, Meredith, would-be dramatists;and a <strong>the</strong>atre that could not profit <strong>the</strong>m, nor profit by<strong>the</strong>m. Someth<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> very wrong, surely; and for thatmatter, still is, perhaps.
§9Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'SeventiesBy FREDERICK S. BOAScolleagues <strong>in</strong> this series of papers have given <strong>the</strong>irattention to creative writers and lead<strong>in</strong>g personalitiesdur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. It has fallen to me to attempta more prosaic task, and to say someth<strong>in</strong>g not about<strong>the</strong> poets and novelists of <strong>the</strong> decade, but about thoseliterary camp-followers, <strong>the</strong> critics. And even here <strong>the</strong>field of survey may seem at first very circumscribed.For <strong>the</strong> period <strong>was</strong> one <strong>in</strong> which literary questions hadbeen pushed <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> background. The Orig<strong>in</strong> of Specieshad appeared <strong>in</strong> 1859; a Reform Act had been passed <strong>in</strong>1867; <strong>the</strong> first Education Act followed <strong>in</strong> 1870. Thethoughts of men were occupied with evolution and <strong>the</strong>'higher criticism' of <strong>the</strong> Bible; with political and socialmovements. They had little time to spare for aes<strong>the</strong>ticproblems. As we shall see, even <strong>the</strong> greatest personality<strong>in</strong> English criticism s<strong>in</strong>ce <strong>the</strong> Romantic trio, Coleridge,Lamb, and Hazlitt, <strong>was</strong> tempted away from his truefield.But all <strong>was</strong> not loss. The arrest<strong>in</strong>g ideas and pr<strong>in</strong>ciplesgenerated <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> scientific, especially <strong>the</strong> biological, sphere<strong>in</strong>evitably had <strong>the</strong>ir reaction on critical <strong>in</strong>vestigation andjudgement <strong>in</strong> literature. And thus <strong>the</strong>re flourished <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies some notable writers whose predom<strong>in</strong>ant <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>was</strong> not <strong>in</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tics or <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> technique of poetry
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 193or prose but who brought to <strong>the</strong> task of critical <strong>in</strong>terpretationconceptions, not to say prepossessions, from o<strong>the</strong>rspheres of study.The preoccupation of <strong>the</strong> decade with o<strong>the</strong>r than purelyliterary problems is illustrated by <strong>the</strong> first importantpublication fall<strong>in</strong>g with<strong>in</strong> its limits which <strong>in</strong>cluded workof f<strong>in</strong>e critical quality. In 1871 Richard Holt Huttonissued <strong>in</strong> two volumes his Essays Theological and Literary.He <strong>was</strong> at this time forty-five <strong>year</strong>s of age. Tra<strong>in</strong>ed for<strong>the</strong> Unitarian M<strong>in</strong>istry he had come under <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluenceof F. W. Robertson and F. D. Maurice and had become aChurchman of <strong>the</strong>ir school. As co-editor with WalterBagehot of The National Review (1855-64) and withMeredith Townshend of The Spectator from 1861 onwardshe had full opportunity for <strong>the</strong> exercise of his journalisticand literary talents, but his <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> religious andphilosophical questions <strong>was</strong> always predom<strong>in</strong>ant. Hence<strong>in</strong> his critical papers, even when poets and poetry werehis <strong>the</strong>me, he <strong>was</strong> less concerned with aes<strong>the</strong>tic questionsthan with <strong>the</strong> writers' criticism of life.With <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ological volume we are not here concerned,though anyone who wishes to appreciate fully Hutton'sstandpo<strong>in</strong>t as a literary critic will profit by a knowledgeof such essays as 'Science and Theism', 'Popular Pan<strong>the</strong>ism'and 'What is Revelation?'. The literary volume<strong>in</strong> its first form <strong>in</strong>cluded a somewhat miscellaneousselection of subjects rang<strong>in</strong>g from 'Goe<strong>the</strong> and his <strong>in</strong>fluence' and ' The Poetry of <strong>the</strong> Old Testament', by wayof some Romantic and Victorian poets, to George Eliotand Nathaniel Hawthorne. A number of <strong>the</strong>se, thoughrevised, had appeared <strong>in</strong> periodicals and do not strictlybelong to our decade. But those on Brown<strong>in</strong>g and Cloughdeal with publications of 1869, and <strong>the</strong> enlarged editionof <strong>the</strong> essays <strong>in</strong> 1877 <strong>in</strong>cluded two additions on <strong>the</strong> poetryof Mat<strong>the</strong>w Arnold and Tennyson. This quartette ofB 13
194 Frederick S. Boaspapers falls <strong>the</strong>refore with<strong>in</strong> this survey and <strong>the</strong>y arefavourable examples of Hutton's critical art. I doubt<strong>in</strong>deed if <strong>the</strong>re are better <strong>in</strong>troductions anywhere to <strong>the</strong>poetry of Clough and Mat<strong>the</strong>w Arnold, and I still remembergratefully <strong>the</strong> thrill that I got <strong>in</strong> my Balliol daysfrom <strong>the</strong>se appreciations of <strong>the</strong> two dist<strong>in</strong>ctively Balliolpoets. Both of <strong>the</strong>m gave scope for Hutton's <strong>in</strong>timatepsychological analysis. He who had found anchor <strong>in</strong> aliberal orthodoxy could enter <strong>in</strong>to, and yet stand apartfrom, <strong>the</strong>ir doubts and question<strong>in</strong>gs. Here is part of hisvivid mental portrait of Clough:So eager <strong>was</strong> his crav<strong>in</strong>g for reality and perfect s<strong>in</strong>cerity, somorbid his dislike even for <strong>the</strong> unreal conventional forms of lifethat a m<strong>in</strong>d quite unique <strong>in</strong> simplicity and truthfulness representsitself <strong>in</strong> his poems as* Seek<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> va<strong>in</strong>, <strong>in</strong> all my store,One feel<strong>in</strong>g based on truth.'Indeed he wanted to reach some guarantee for simplicity deeperthan simplicity itself. ...This almost morbid crav<strong>in</strong>g for a firm base on <strong>the</strong> absoluterealities of life <strong>was</strong> very weary<strong>in</strong>g to a m<strong>in</strong>d so self-conscious asClough's, and tended to paralyse <strong>the</strong> expression of a certa<strong>in</strong>lygreat genius. As a rule, his lyrical poems fall short of completesuccess <strong>in</strong> del<strong>in</strong>eat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> mood which <strong>the</strong>y are really meant todel<strong>in</strong>eate, ow<strong>in</strong>g to this chronic state of <strong>in</strong>trospective criticism onhimself <strong>in</strong> which he is apt to write, and which, characteristic as itis, necessarily dim<strong>in</strong>ishes <strong>the</strong> l<strong>in</strong>earity and directness of <strong>the</strong> feel<strong>in</strong>gexpressed, refract<strong>in</strong>g it, as it were, through media of very variabledensity.His description later of Clough as 'a modern and <strong>in</strong>tellectualisedChaucer', suggested by <strong>the</strong> tales <strong>in</strong> In MariMagno, strikes one as somewhat of a tour deforce, and <strong>the</strong>quotations given <strong>in</strong> support scarcely prove <strong>the</strong> case. Noris anyth<strong>in</strong>g said of Clough's metrical technique, as <strong>in</strong> hisuse of <strong>the</strong> hexameter <strong>in</strong> The Bothie and elsewhere. But<strong>the</strong> essay is a permanent memorial of <strong>the</strong> impact ofClough's complete output <strong>in</strong> verse and prose, published
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 195posthumously, on one of <strong>the</strong> most sensitive m<strong>in</strong>ds of hisage.The essay on <strong>the</strong> poetry of Mat<strong>the</strong>w Arnold is more fullyworked out and <strong>in</strong> it, as I th<strong>in</strong>k, Hutton reaches hiscritical high-water mark. In his perspective of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluenceson Arnold, Goe<strong>the</strong> and Wordsworth are somewhatunduly stressed as compared with <strong>the</strong> Greeks, buthis <strong>in</strong>terpretation of <strong>the</strong> poet's dist<strong>in</strong>ctive position amonghis contemporaries shows pierc<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>sight :Mr Arnold's poems are one long variation on a s<strong>in</strong>gle <strong>the</strong>me,<strong>the</strong> divorce between <strong>the</strong> soul and <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>tellect, and <strong>the</strong> depth ofspiritual regret and <strong>year</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g which that divorce produces. Yet<strong>the</strong>re is a didactic keenness with <strong>the</strong> languor, an eagerness ofpurpose with <strong>the</strong> despondency, which give half <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>dividualflavour to his lyrics. A note of confidence lends authority to hisscepticism; <strong>the</strong> tone of his sadness is self-conta<strong>in</strong>ed, sure, and evenimperious, <strong>in</strong>stead of show<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> ord<strong>in</strong>ary relaxation of loss.From such relaxation Arnold is preserved <strong>in</strong> large partby <strong>the</strong> fortify<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>fluence of Nature. There is noth<strong>in</strong>gbetter <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> essay than <strong>the</strong> subtle discrim<strong>in</strong>ation betweenArnold's attitude to Nature and that of Wordsworth,Shelley, Byron and Tennyson, and <strong>the</strong> more unlooked forcomparison with Gray:He pa<strong>in</strong>ts Nature, like <strong>the</strong> author of The Elegy <strong>in</strong> a CountryChurchyard, with <strong>the</strong> cool, liquid, ra<strong>the</strong>r weary tone of one whocomes to <strong>the</strong> scenery to take a heart from it, <strong>in</strong>stead of giv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>heart to it; but he does it with <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>itely more of <strong>the</strong> moderntenderness and <strong>in</strong>sight for Nature than Gray possessed, and withfar more flow<strong>in</strong>g and cont<strong>in</strong>uous descriptive power.But with all Hutton's <strong>in</strong>sight <strong>in</strong>to Arnold's high poeticachievement, he lays his f<strong>in</strong>ger on his fundamentallimitation:When I come to ask what Mr Arnold's poetry has done for thisgeneration, <strong>the</strong> answer must be that no one has expressed morepowerfully and poetically its spiritual weaknesses, its crav<strong>in</strong>g fora passion that it cannot feel, its admiration for a self-mastery thatit cannot achieve, its desire for a creed that it fails to accept, itssympathy with a faith that it will not share, its aspiration for a13-2
196 Frederick S. Boaspeace that it does not know. But Mr Arnold does all this from <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>tellectual side—s<strong>in</strong>cerely and delicately, but from <strong>the</strong> surfaceand never from <strong>the</strong> centre... .The sign of this limitation, of thisexclusion of this externality of touch is <strong>the</strong> t<strong>in</strong>ge of conscious<strong>in</strong>tellectual majesty rear<strong>in</strong>g its head above <strong>the</strong> storm with <strong>the</strong>'Quos ego' of Virgil's god, that never forsakes <strong>the</strong>se poems ofMr Arnold's even when <strong>the</strong>ir 'lyrical cry' is most pa<strong>the</strong>tic. It isthis which identifies him with <strong>the</strong> sceptics, which renders hispoems, pa<strong>the</strong>tic as <strong>the</strong>y often are, no adequate expression of <strong>the</strong>passionate crav<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> soul for faith. There is always a t<strong>in</strong>ctureof pride <strong>in</strong> his confessed <strong>in</strong>ability to believe—a self-congratulationthat he is too clear-eyed to yield to <strong>the</strong> temptations of <strong>the</strong> heart.And <strong>the</strong>re follows <strong>in</strong> illustration Button's masterlyanalysis and discussion of <strong>the</strong> splendid stanzas <strong>in</strong> ObermannOnce More describ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> victory of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fantChurch over <strong>the</strong> majestic materialism of Rome—avictory that <strong>in</strong> Arnold's eyes, but not <strong>in</strong> Hutton's, <strong>was</strong>based upon a dream.In <strong>the</strong> essay on 'Mr Brown<strong>in</strong>g', Hutton, as might beexpected, is predom<strong>in</strong>antly <strong>in</strong>terested <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> poet's* various del<strong>in</strong>eations of <strong>the</strong> worldly force of ecclesiasticaldignities struggl<strong>in</strong>g with, or flavour<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong> Catholicfaith'. At a time when Brown<strong>in</strong>g's genius <strong>was</strong> imperfectlyappreciated, and before <strong>the</strong> propaganda work of <strong>the</strong>Brown<strong>in</strong>g Societies, Hutton's <strong>in</strong>terpretation of suchpoems as The Soliloquy of <strong>the</strong> Spanish Cloister, The Bishoporders his Tomb, The Epistle, and <strong>the</strong> speeches of <strong>the</strong>ecclesiastics <strong>in</strong> The R<strong>in</strong>g and <strong>the</strong> Book <strong>was</strong> valuable toreaders bewildered by <strong>the</strong> strangeness of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>mes or<strong>the</strong>ir treatment. The critic <strong>was</strong> an expert guide <strong>in</strong>to what<strong>was</strong> for many at <strong>the</strong> time an <strong>in</strong>tellectual labyr<strong>in</strong>th. Bu<strong>the</strong> <strong>was</strong> less to be trusted <strong>in</strong> metrical matters, as when hedeclares that Brown<strong>in</strong>g's 'versification is almost alwaysbest when it is nearest to prose, where, as <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> dramas,<strong>the</strong> metre is blank verse without rhyme'. It is surpris<strong>in</strong>gthat a critic of Hutton's quality should lend countenanceto <strong>the</strong> 'vulgar error' that blank verse is more ak<strong>in</strong> to
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 197prose than rhymed metres. And though he s<strong>in</strong>gles outfor eulogy <strong>the</strong> apostrophe ' O lyric love! half angel andhalf bird' he does not seem to have an ear for <strong>the</strong> subtleand haunt<strong>in</strong>g cadences <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> speeches of Caponsacchior Pompilia—not to speak of <strong>the</strong> dactylic rhythmsof The Lost Leader and Abt Vogler or <strong>the</strong> anapaests ofSaul. •Perhaps this would be too much to expect from acritic whose essay on Tennyson is a long-drawn paean ofpraise. Anyone who wishes to relish aga<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> full flavourof mid-Victorian adoration of <strong>the</strong> Laureate, <strong>in</strong> its consummateexpression, should read or re-read this f<strong>in</strong>eessay—and <strong>the</strong>n turn to <strong>the</strong> iconoclastic lecture by ProfessorOliver Elton, or to Mr Harold Nicolson's mordantcritical study, and afterwards (to strike a balance) toDr A. C. Bradley's English Association Pamphlet, TheReaction aga<strong>in</strong>st Tennyson. There are only two features ofHutton's essay to which I will now refer. It <strong>was</strong> writtensoon after <strong>the</strong> publication of Tennyson's first play, QueenMary, which is dealt with <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> preced<strong>in</strong>g paper by MrGranville-Barker. Hutton makes what seems to me an<strong>in</strong>ept comparison between it and Henry VIII, stat<strong>in</strong>g tha<strong>the</strong> would ' be surprised to hear that any true critic wouldrate Queen Mary, whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> dramatic force or <strong>in</strong> generalpower, below Henry VIII '. The latter is of course not <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> organic sense a play, but it conta<strong>in</strong>s dialogue (whe<strong>the</strong>rby Shakespeare or Fletcher does not here matter) of apoignancy and liquid beauty that are quite beyond <strong>the</strong>pale of Tennyson's dramatic art. And with regard to TheIdylls of <strong>the</strong> K<strong>in</strong>g, Hutton, as I th<strong>in</strong>k, confutes beyonda peradventure Sw<strong>in</strong>burne's contention that Tennysonshould have traced <strong>the</strong> ru<strong>in</strong> of <strong>the</strong> Round Table toArthur's youthful s<strong>in</strong> with his half-sister, Bellicent. Bu<strong>the</strong> fails to recognise that <strong>the</strong> poet attempts <strong>the</strong> impossiblewhen he makes Arthur fill <strong>the</strong> double role of spiritual hero
198 Frederick S. Boasand accus<strong>in</strong>g husband. Yet when all discount has beenmade I feel that <strong>the</strong>se essays of Hutton on <strong>the</strong> greatVictorian poets deserve <strong>the</strong> epi<strong>the</strong>ts that he applied toArnold's poems—'stately and fasc<strong>in</strong>at<strong>in</strong>g'.The shorter pieces of criticism that he repr<strong>in</strong>ted fromThe Spectator <strong>in</strong> Contemporary Thought and Th<strong>in</strong>kers, ofwhich those on Poe, Dickens and o<strong>the</strong>rs fall with<strong>in</strong> ourdecade, are of less moment, and I merely mention <strong>the</strong>m.He also edited <strong>in</strong> 1879 two volumes of Literary Studies byhis former colleague, Walter Bagehot, repr<strong>in</strong>ted from TheNational Review. As <strong>the</strong>se had orig<strong>in</strong>ally appeared <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'fifties, <strong>the</strong>y are outside our present survey, but <strong>the</strong>yconta<strong>in</strong> a number of notable essays, 'Shakespeare <strong>the</strong>Man', 'Sterne and Thackeray', 'The Waverley Novels'and o<strong>the</strong>rs.Hutton had moved from a Unitarian to an Anglicanposition; Stopford Brooke had reversed <strong>the</strong> process. Theone had <strong>the</strong>ology <strong>in</strong> attendance at <strong>the</strong> right hand of hiseditorial chair; <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r brought poetry <strong>in</strong>side <strong>the</strong>sanctuary. On Sunday afternoons <strong>in</strong> St James's Chapeldur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> season of 1872 Brooke delivered a series oflectures on ' Theology <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> English Poets', which werepublished <strong>in</strong> 1874. Apart from <strong>the</strong> merits of <strong>the</strong> lectures<strong>the</strong> experiment is memorable <strong>in</strong> itself. The course, aftera prelim<strong>in</strong>ary survey from Pope onwards, <strong>in</strong>cludedCowper, Coleridge, Wordsworth and Burns. Brooke, ashe expla<strong>in</strong>s at <strong>the</strong> outset, <strong>was</strong> not attempt<strong>in</strong>g to expound<strong>the</strong>ir personal convictions:It is pla<strong>in</strong> that <strong>in</strong> ord<strong>in</strong>ary life <strong>the</strong>ir <strong>in</strong>tellect would workconsciously on <strong>the</strong> subject, and <strong>the</strong>ir prejudices come <strong>in</strong>to play.But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir poetry, <strong>the</strong>ir imag<strong>in</strong>ation worked unconsciously on<strong>the</strong> subject. Their <strong>the</strong>ology <strong>was</strong> not produced as a matter of<strong>in</strong>tellectual co-ord<strong>in</strong>ation of truths, but as a matter of truths whichwere true because <strong>the</strong>y were felt—Cowper's <strong>the</strong>ology <strong>in</strong> his poetrysoars beyond <strong>the</strong> narrow sect to which he belonged <strong>in</strong>to an <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>itelywider universe.
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 199Thus <strong>in</strong> one of <strong>the</strong> most effective sections of <strong>the</strong> volume,Brooke shows that while Cowper's personal <strong>the</strong>ology'fixed its talons <strong>in</strong> his heart' and drove him to madness,his poetical <strong>the</strong>ology saw God as <strong>the</strong> deliverer and avengerof <strong>the</strong> oppressed, and contributed dist<strong>in</strong>ctly new elementsto our poetry, 'above all new <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir tremendouspower of awaken<strong>in</strong>g and ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> human emotionswhich most create a human poetry'.But <strong>the</strong> major part of <strong>the</strong> book, n<strong>in</strong>e out of <strong>the</strong> sixteenlectures, is devoted to Wordsworth. His spiritualconception of Nature, his poetic realisation of <strong>the</strong> div<strong>in</strong>eimmanence <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> universe were <strong>in</strong> conformity withBrooke's own attitude. His exposition of <strong>the</strong> centralelements of Wordsworth's poetic creed is remarkablylucid and sympa<strong>the</strong>tic, and went far to ga<strong>in</strong> for <strong>the</strong> bookits immediate popularity and its place as a standardwork. The editor of <strong>the</strong> Everyman repr<strong>in</strong>t of <strong>the</strong> lecturesgoes so far as to say that' a nobler appreciation of Wordsworthis not to be found anywhere'. This is a high claimto which I am not prepared to subscribe without reserve.Brooke has not <strong>the</strong> arrest<strong>in</strong>g pregnancy of phrase ofHutton, nor does he flash sudden illum<strong>in</strong>ation like F. W.H. Myers and Walter Raleigh <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir monographs onWordsworth. M. Legouis <strong>in</strong> his La Jeunesse de Wordsworthand Professor de Sel<strong>in</strong>court <strong>in</strong> his textual editionof The Prelude have opened vistas unknown to Brooke.But he would have rejoiced to know that Wordsworth'spoetic <strong>the</strong>ology, of which he <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> ardent <strong>in</strong>terpreter,<strong>was</strong> even more explicit <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>al manuscripts than<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ted version of 1850, where it had been <strong>in</strong> partaccommodated to current orthodoxy.Stopford Brooke's gifts of popular exposition found astill wider appeal <strong>in</strong> 1876 <strong>in</strong> his Primer of EnglishLiterature. In some 200 pages he gave a masterly bird'seyeview of <strong>the</strong> poetry and prose of what he calls <strong>the</strong>
200 Frederick S. Boas' noble company, which has been teach<strong>in</strong>g and delight<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> world for more than 1000 <strong>year</strong>s'. These words give<strong>the</strong> key to <strong>the</strong> spirit <strong>in</strong> which <strong>the</strong> little book is written.It deservedly ran through more than a dozen editionsbefore it <strong>was</strong> enlarged <strong>in</strong> 1896, and we can scarcely blameBrooke if it <strong>was</strong> perverted from its true purpose by schoolboyswho learnt pages of it by rote for <strong>the</strong> benefit ofexam<strong>in</strong>ers. It has recently been re-issued with anadditional chapter on literature s<strong>in</strong>ce 1832 by Mr GeorgeSampson, and has thus entered on a new lease of life.The <strong>year</strong> of <strong>the</strong> publication of Brooke's Theology <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>English Poets, 1874, <strong>was</strong> marked also by <strong>the</strong> appearanceof <strong>the</strong> first collection of critical essays by a writer of avery different school of thought. Leslie Stephen hadalready given proof of his versatile powers <strong>in</strong> his satiricalSketches from Cambridge (1865), his essays on mounta<strong>in</strong>eer<strong>in</strong>gentitled The Playground of Europe (1871), and <strong>the</strong>Essays on Free Th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g and Pla<strong>in</strong> Speak<strong>in</strong>g (1873) <strong>in</strong>which he anticipated <strong>the</strong> attitude of An Agnostic'sApology <strong>in</strong> a later <strong>year</strong>. In 1871 he had become editor of<strong>the</strong> Cornhill Magaz<strong>in</strong>e to which he contributed a seriesof literary essays called 'Hours <strong>in</strong> a Library', and thistitle he reta<strong>in</strong>ed for <strong>the</strong> three volumes (1874-9) <strong>in</strong> which herepublished <strong>the</strong>m and k<strong>in</strong>dred pieces. Stephen's aff<strong>in</strong>itieswere predom<strong>in</strong>antly with <strong>the</strong> rationalistic elements <strong>in</strong>eighteenth-century thought of which he <strong>was</strong> at this timewrit<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> history, and his sober-coloured style andmethod of analytical dissection are seen to advantage <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> articles on <strong>the</strong> novelists and poets of that century.Thus <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> essay on 'De Foe's Novels' he characteristicallyrepudiates any romantic associations with <strong>the</strong>position of a solitary like Alexander Selkirk marooned for<strong>year</strong>s on an island:We may <strong>in</strong>fer, what is probable from o<strong>the</strong>r cases, that a manliv<strong>in</strong>g fifteen <strong>year</strong>s by himself, like Crusoe, would ei<strong>the</strong>r go mad or
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 201s<strong>in</strong>k <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> semi-savage state. De Foe really describes a man <strong>in</strong>prison, not <strong>in</strong> solitary conf<strong>in</strong>ement.... He cannot tire us withdetails, for all <strong>the</strong> details of such a story are <strong>in</strong>terest<strong>in</strong>g; it ismade up of petty <strong>in</strong>cidents, as much as <strong>the</strong> life of a prisoner reducedto tam<strong>in</strong>g flies, or mak<strong>in</strong>g saws out of penknives. The islanddoes as well as <strong>the</strong> Bastille for mak<strong>in</strong>g trifles valuable to <strong>the</strong> suffererand to us.... It is one of <strong>the</strong> exceptional cases <strong>in</strong> which <strong>the</strong> poeticalaspect of a position is brought out best by <strong>the</strong> most prosaicaccuracy of detail; and we imag<strong>in</strong>e that Rob<strong>in</strong>son Crusoe's island,with all his small household torments, will always be more impressivethan <strong>the</strong> more gorgeously coloured island of Enoch Arden.That last touch is very characteristic of Stephen, whosemotto later, as first editor of <strong>the</strong> Dictionary of NationalBiography, <strong>was</strong>' No flowers by request '. In lighter ve<strong>in</strong> ishis exposition of <strong>the</strong> results of Richardson's epistolarymethod, as illustrated by <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>ety-six pages of letterswritten by Miss Byron, <strong>the</strong> object of Sir Charles Grandison'saffections, <strong>in</strong> three days:We discover what <strong>was</strong> Sir Charles Grandison's relation at aparticular time to a certa<strong>in</strong> Italian lady, Clement<strong>in</strong>a. We are toldexactly what view he took of his own position; what view Clement<strong>in</strong>atook of it; what Miss Byron had to say to Sir Charles on <strong>the</strong>subject, and what advice her relations bestowed upon Miss Byron.Then we have all <strong>the</strong> sentiments of Sir Charles Grandison's sisters,and of his bro<strong>the</strong>rs-<strong>in</strong>-law, and of his reverend old tutor; and <strong>the</strong>sentiments of all <strong>the</strong> lady Clement<strong>in</strong>a's family, and <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>cidentalremarks of a number of subord<strong>in</strong>ate actors. In short we see <strong>the</strong>characters all round, <strong>in</strong> all <strong>the</strong>ir relations to each o<strong>the</strong>r, <strong>in</strong> everypossible variation and permutation.But <strong>in</strong> spite of such sedate banter, Stephen shows awhole-hearted appreciation of Richardson's greatness asa novelist, though his admiration for Clarissa may seema trifle tepid to those who like myself have a love for herjust this side of idolatry. But <strong>in</strong> speak<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> ' <strong>in</strong>fusionof fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e character' <strong>in</strong> Richardson's personality Stephenmakes a prophecy which has been curiously falsified:A novelist should have <strong>the</strong> delicate perception, <strong>the</strong> sensibilityto emotion, and <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> small details, which women exhibit<strong>in</strong> perfection. Indeed this is so true that <strong>the</strong>re seems to be atpresent some probability that <strong>the</strong> art of novel-writ<strong>in</strong>g will pass
202 Frederick S. Boasaltoge<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>to fem<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>e hands. It may be long before <strong>the</strong> advocatesof woman's rights will conquer o<strong>the</strong>r prov<strong>in</strong>ces of labour; but<strong>the</strong>y have already monopolised to a great extent <strong>the</strong> immensenovel manufactur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>dustry of Great Brita<strong>in</strong>.Had Stephen lived till our day he would have seen that<strong>the</strong> advocates of woman's rights (how out of date <strong>the</strong>phrase sounds!) had secured <strong>the</strong>ir position <strong>in</strong> nearlyevery prov<strong>in</strong>ce of labour, not to speak of <strong>the</strong>ir triumph<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> political sphere. But <strong>in</strong> spite of this, perhaps partlyon account of it, <strong>the</strong>re seems less prospect than ever of<strong>the</strong>ir monopolis<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> realm of fiction. We have verydist<strong>in</strong>guished women novelists <strong>in</strong> this generation—someof <strong>the</strong>m are among <strong>the</strong> most em<strong>in</strong>ent Fellows of thisSociety—but (to say <strong>the</strong> least) <strong>the</strong>y have not playedMr Wells, Mr Galsworthy and Mr Arnold Bennett off <strong>the</strong>stage. And <strong>the</strong>se are only a few of <strong>the</strong> mascul<strong>in</strong>e namesthat will occur to everyone. Here at least is one anticipationby a s<strong>in</strong>gularly cool-headed critic <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies ofwhich Time has made a laugh<strong>in</strong>g stock. 1But it may seem surpris<strong>in</strong>g that I have got so farwithout mention<strong>in</strong>g, except as a poet, <strong>the</strong> most famousand <strong>in</strong>fluential of mid-Victorian critics, Mat<strong>the</strong>w Arnold.The reason is that <strong>the</strong> decade of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies is, <strong>in</strong> aremarkable way, a watershed between <strong>the</strong> two streams,<strong>the</strong> earlier and <strong>the</strong> later, of Arnold's literary criticism.Dur<strong>in</strong>g his ten <strong>year</strong>s' occupancy, 1857-67, of <strong>the</strong> OxfordChair of Poetry, he had published his Lectures on Translat<strong>in</strong>g<strong>Home</strong>r (1861-2), <strong>the</strong> first series of Essays <strong>in</strong>Criticism (1865), and <strong>the</strong> Lectures on <strong>the</strong> Study of CelticLiterature (1867). Needless to say that each of <strong>the</strong>se is <strong>in</strong>its own way a classic, even <strong>the</strong> last, though Arnold knewno Celtic tongue. Essays <strong>in</strong> Criticism is one of <strong>the</strong> booksto which <strong>the</strong> hackneyed epi<strong>the</strong>t of ' epoch-mak<strong>in</strong>g' maybe truly applied <strong>in</strong> its own sphere. The second series of1 Stephen himself seems to have afterwards modified his view for <strong>the</strong>passage is omitted <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 1892 revised edition.
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 203Essays <strong>in</strong> Criticism appeared <strong>in</strong> 1881, and <strong>in</strong> 1880 Arnoldcontributed his Introduction to T. H. Ward's Selectionsfrom <strong>the</strong> English Poets, <strong>in</strong> which is found his famous, and<strong>in</strong>adequate, def<strong>in</strong>ition of poetry as a criticism of life. But<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terven<strong>in</strong>g period he <strong>was</strong> almost entirely occupiedwith treatises on <strong>the</strong>ological and social questions, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>gCulture and Anarchy (1869), Friendship's Garland(1871), Literature and Dogma (1873) and Last Essays onChurch and Religion (1877). Anyth<strong>in</strong>g that Arnold wrote<strong>was</strong> bound to conta<strong>in</strong> strik<strong>in</strong>g phrases, and <strong>the</strong>se tractsfor <strong>the</strong> times had a wider and more immediate vogue than<strong>the</strong> critical essays. But he had nei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> temperamentnor <strong>the</strong> technical qualifications for controversy <strong>in</strong> suchfields and we are moved to address him <strong>in</strong> his own words:Not here, O Apollo!Are haunts meet for <strong>the</strong>e,But, where Helicon breaks downIn cliff to <strong>the</strong> sea.And fortunately, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> very last <strong>year</strong> of our decade, 1879,Arnold did have his hour on Helicon and brought backhis Introduction to his Selection from <strong>the</strong> poems ofWordsworth. With<strong>in</strong> its short range it is one of his mostmasterly achievements. He <strong>was</strong> out to save <strong>the</strong> poet fromhis friends—<strong>the</strong> Wordsworthians who 'are apt to praisehim for <strong>the</strong> wrong th<strong>in</strong>gs, and to lay far too much stressupon what <strong>the</strong>y call his philosophy'—though he afterwardsconfesses that he is a Wordsworthian himself.Wordsworth's philosophy, if <strong>in</strong>terpreted <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> right wayand <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> light of what he orig<strong>in</strong>ally wrote, is of greatersignificance than Arnold <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>cl<strong>in</strong>ed to allow. But he<strong>was</strong> right <strong>in</strong> putt<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> forefront his pure poeticpower which he <strong>in</strong>terpreted <strong>in</strong> words of noble, andexquisitely apt, simplicity:Wordsworth's poetry, when he is at his best, is <strong>in</strong>evitable, as<strong>in</strong>evitable as Nature herself. It might seem that Nature not only
204 Frederick S. Boasgave him <strong>the</strong> matter for his poem, but wrote his poem for him.He has no style.. .Nature herself seems, I say, to take <strong>the</strong> pen outof his hand, and to write for him with her own bare, sheer penetrat<strong>in</strong>gpower.Wordsworth had figured prom<strong>in</strong>ently <strong>in</strong> The GoldenTreasury of English Songs and Lyrics (1861) edited byF. T. Palgrave, who, like Arnold, <strong>was</strong> an educationofficial, and who <strong>was</strong> later one of his successors <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Oxford Chair of Poetry.In 1877 Palgrave paid tribute to an earlier pastoral poet<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> graceful preface to his Selections from Herrick—aga<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>g of some of <strong>the</strong> choicest of <strong>the</strong> golden applesfrom <strong>the</strong> garden of <strong>the</strong> Hesperides.But it <strong>was</strong> a younger Oxford man than Arnold orPalgrave who stirred most deeply <strong>the</strong> waters of <strong>the</strong>'seventies. In 1873 Walter Pater, Fellow of Brasenose,published his Studies <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> History of <strong>the</strong> Renaissance.The book, by <strong>the</strong> novel charm of its style and its unconventionalattitude, caused someth<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> same excitement(though <strong>the</strong> subjects are poles asunder) as MrLytton Strachey's Em<strong>in</strong>ent Victorians <strong>in</strong> our own day.With a prelude on <strong>the</strong> French tale of Aucass<strong>in</strong> andNicolette and an epilogue on Goe<strong>the</strong>'s Hellenist master,W<strong>in</strong>ckelmann, <strong>the</strong> studies were ma<strong>in</strong>ly of Italian artists<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> fifteenth century, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> famous essay onLeonardo da V<strong>in</strong>ci. These particular studies lie outside ofour present subject and my own competence (thoughnot my <strong>in</strong>terest). But what <strong>was</strong> of most significance <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong> challenge thrown out <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> open<strong>in</strong>g and clos<strong>in</strong>gpages. Pater urged that little store <strong>was</strong> to be set onattemptsto def<strong>in</strong>e beauty <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> abstract.. .to f<strong>in</strong>d a universal formula forit. These attempts help us very little to enjoy what has been welldone <strong>in</strong> art or poetry To def<strong>in</strong>e beauty not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> most abstract,but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> most concrete forms possible, not to f<strong>in</strong>d a universal
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 205formula for it, but <strong>the</strong> formula which expresses most adequatelythis or that special manifestation of it, is <strong>the</strong> aim of <strong>the</strong> truestudent of aes<strong>the</strong>tics.And not only must beauty be sought <strong>in</strong> this or thatparticular manifestation, but <strong>the</strong> criterion of it, Paterdeclared, must be purely that of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>dividual whoexperiences it:What is this song or picture, this engag<strong>in</strong>g personality presented<strong>in</strong> life or <strong>in</strong> a book to me? What effect does it really produceon me? Does it give me pleasure? and, if so, what sort or degreeof pleasure?... The answers to <strong>the</strong>se questions are <strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>al factswith which <strong>the</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tic critic has to do... one must realise suchprimary data for oneself or not at all.And even <strong>the</strong>se primary data are based on noth<strong>in</strong>gsubstantial. It <strong>was</strong> significant that as <strong>the</strong> headl<strong>in</strong>e of his' Conclusion' Pater quoted <strong>the</strong> Greek verse:Experience is analysed <strong>in</strong>to a group of impressions ' unstable,flicker<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>in</strong>consistent' and 'r<strong>in</strong>ged round foreach one of us by that thick wall of personality throughwhich no real voice has ever pierced on its way to us,or from us to that which we can only conjecture to bewithout'. The highest service of religion, philosophy, orculture to <strong>the</strong> human spirit is accord<strong>in</strong>gly 'to startle it<strong>in</strong>to a sharp and eager observation'. Hence it followsthat <strong>the</strong> aim of life is to have as many sensations as wemay at <strong>the</strong>ir f<strong>in</strong>est and <strong>the</strong>ir fullest:A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated,dramatic life. How may we see <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>m all that is to be seen <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong>m by <strong>the</strong> f<strong>in</strong>est senses? How can we pass most swiftly from po<strong>in</strong>tto po<strong>in</strong>t, and be present always at <strong>the</strong> focus where <strong>the</strong> greatestnumber of vital forces unite <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir purest energy? To burn alwayswith this hard gem-like flame, to ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong> this ecstasy, is success<strong>in</strong> life. Failure is to form habits; for habit is relative to a stereotypedworld.
206 Frederick S. BoasIn a rhythm of stately, pensive beauty <strong>the</strong> gospel ofcarpe diem <strong>in</strong> its transfigured form of <strong>the</strong> cherish<strong>in</strong>g of artfor art's sake reaches its close:We have an <strong>in</strong>terval and <strong>the</strong>n our place knows us no more.Some spend this <strong>in</strong>terval <strong>in</strong> listlessness, some <strong>in</strong> high passions, <strong>the</strong>wisest <strong>in</strong> art and song. For our one chance is <strong>in</strong> expand<strong>in</strong>g that<strong>in</strong>terval, <strong>in</strong> gett<strong>in</strong>g as many pulsations as possible <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> giventime.... Of this wisdom, <strong>the</strong> poetic passion, <strong>the</strong> desire for beauty,<strong>the</strong> love of art for art's sake has most; for art comes to you profess<strong>in</strong>gfrankly to give noth<strong>in</strong>g but <strong>the</strong> highest quality to yourmoments as <strong>the</strong>y pass, and simply for those moments' sake.Such doctr<strong>in</strong>e from an Oxford cloister might wellstartle <strong>the</strong> dovecotes, and when <strong>the</strong> second edition of <strong>the</strong>volume appeared <strong>in</strong> 1877, <strong>the</strong> Conclusion <strong>was</strong> omittedlest, as Pater stated, it might possibly mislead some of<strong>the</strong> young men <strong>in</strong>to whose hands it might fall. Butfortunately it <strong>was</strong> re<strong>in</strong>serted, with slight changes, <strong>in</strong> latereditions. Whatever one may th<strong>in</strong>k of <strong>the</strong> validity ofPater's 'criticism of life' <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies ei<strong>the</strong>r onphilosophical or ethical grounds, we have it here <strong>in</strong> itsqu<strong>in</strong>tessential form. What a descent from <strong>the</strong> haunt<strong>in</strong>gcadences of this grave apologia for 'sensationalism' to<strong>the</strong> freaks and follies of <strong>the</strong> ' aes<strong>the</strong>tic' movement, not tospeak of <strong>the</strong> abyss of <strong>the</strong> sensual sty! It <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> manyways a different Pater who spoke <strong>in</strong> Marius <strong>the</strong> Epicureanand o<strong>the</strong>r later works, but from <strong>the</strong> first <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> a hard<strong>in</strong>tellectual fibre beneath <strong>the</strong> decorative surface of hiswrit<strong>in</strong>g. The two occasions on which I heard him speakwere, <strong>in</strong> a way, symbolic of his two sides. The first, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>early 'eighties, when <strong>in</strong> his own rooms at Brasenose heread a paper to a small society of <strong>in</strong>tellectuals; <strong>the</strong>second, some ten <strong>year</strong>s later, when he lectured to acrowded University Extension audience <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> OxfordExam<strong>in</strong>ation Schools.The <strong>year</strong>, 1873, that saw <strong>the</strong> publication of Pater'sstudies <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Italian Renaissance marks someth<strong>in</strong>g of anew stage <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> study of our own greatest Renaissance
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 207figure, Shakespeare. For it <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> 1873 that F. J. Furnivallfounded 'The New Shakspere Society' with a wideprogramme but with a special <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> employmentof verse tests to determ<strong>in</strong>e <strong>the</strong> authorship of disputedplays and <strong>the</strong> chronological succession of plays with<strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> Shakespearean canon. F. G. Fleay <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> chiefapostle of this method, which won Furnivall's enthusiasticsupport. The open<strong>in</strong>g paper <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Society's first volumeof Transactions <strong>was</strong> by Fleay on 'Metrical Tests asapplied to Dramatic Poetry', and <strong>in</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r contributionshe applied this criterion. An article by James Spedd<strong>in</strong>gon <strong>the</strong> shares of Shakespeare and Fletcher <strong>in</strong> K<strong>in</strong>gHenry VIII <strong>was</strong> also based largely on Fletcher's dis-Jictive use of 'double-end<strong>in</strong>gs'; and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'weakjnd<strong>in</strong>gs'of Shakespeare J. K. Ingram developed ano<strong>the</strong>raspect of metrical <strong>in</strong>vestigation.Though <strong>the</strong> Society did o<strong>the</strong>r valuable work, it becamepeculiarly identified with this l<strong>in</strong>e of research, and A. C.Sw<strong>in</strong>burne who <strong>was</strong> at <strong>the</strong> time engaged on his Study ofShakespeare became <strong>in</strong>censed with what he thought <strong>was</strong>an attempt to judge <strong>the</strong> dramatist's work by mechanicalrules. He opened fire with an attack <strong>in</strong> The Exam<strong>in</strong>er(April, 1876) on 'The newest Shakespeare Society'.Furnivall replied with equal asperity, and a long, unedify<strong>in</strong>gcontroversy followed. But <strong>the</strong> 'metrical tests'method, though it may be perversely or un<strong>in</strong>telligentlyapplied, has proved to be a permanent <strong>in</strong>strument ofShakespearean research, and <strong>the</strong> Society's publicationsare still of first-rate value to Elizabethan students.The <strong>in</strong>fluence of Fleay's and Furnivall's <strong>in</strong>vestigations<strong>was</strong> acknowledged by Edward Dowden when <strong>in</strong> 1877 hepublished Shakspere: His M<strong>in</strong>d and Art, which hasthroughout a chronological basis. In this volume heattempted 'to connect <strong>the</strong> study of Shakspere's workswith an <strong>in</strong>quiry after <strong>the</strong> personality of <strong>the</strong> writer, andto observe, as far as is possible, <strong>in</strong> its several stages <strong>the</strong>
208 Frederick S. Boasgrowth of his <strong>in</strong>tellect and character from youth to fullmaturity'. It is well known how Dowden developedhis <strong>the</strong>sis, not identify<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> dramatist with any oneof his creations, but f<strong>in</strong>d<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> Romeo and Hamletand Prospero successive phases of Shakespeare's ownpersonality. Recent criticism has <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> turnedaga<strong>in</strong>st this 'subjective' treatment of <strong>the</strong> plays, ,but <strong>the</strong>permanent worth of Dowden's book is not, <strong>in</strong> myop<strong>in</strong>ion, <strong>the</strong>reby <strong>in</strong>validated. His speculations rest ona base of wide and accurate scholarship; as he said himself,'Shakspere is not to be approached on any sidethrough dilettantism'. And he has that charm of stylewhich is <strong>the</strong> birthright of <strong>the</strong> Anglo-Irish, and whichmade him a worthy <strong>in</strong>terpreter of literature <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>university of Congreve and Swift, and (as we are boundespecially to remember at present) of Goldsmith andBurke.There are o<strong>the</strong>r names not unworthy to be held <strong>in</strong>memory, such as <strong>the</strong> two Scottish Professors, J. C. Shairpand William M<strong>in</strong>to, who after o<strong>the</strong>r meritorious criticalwork, were amongst <strong>the</strong> earliest contributors to 'TheEnglish Men of Letters Series', which began its longcareer <strong>in</strong> 1878, under <strong>the</strong> editorship of John Morley, andis now hav<strong>in</strong>g a renewal of youth under <strong>the</strong> aegis of aFellow of this Society, and a member of its AcademicCommittee, Mr J. C. Squire. The Spenser of Dean Churchand <strong>the</strong> Johnson of Leslie Stephen, to name two of <strong>the</strong>most dist<strong>in</strong>guished of <strong>the</strong> early volumes, stretch across<strong>the</strong> gulf of half a century fraternal (or should I say,paternal?) hands to <strong>the</strong> Sw<strong>in</strong>burne of Mr Harold Nicolsonand <strong>the</strong> Walt Whitman of Mr John Bailey.The old-established Reviews, quarterly, monthly andweekly, cont<strong>in</strong>ued <strong>the</strong>ir supply of critical matter, <strong>the</strong> bestof which generally found its way later <strong>in</strong>to book form.But one important new enterprise <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> magaz<strong>in</strong>e world
Critics and Criticism <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 209which took shape on <strong>the</strong> very eve of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies needsspecial mention. On <strong>the</strong> 9th of October, 1869, appeared<strong>the</strong> first number of The Academy, 'a monthly record ofLiterature, Learn<strong>in</strong>g, Science, and Art'. The A<strong>the</strong>naeum,<strong>the</strong> chief exist<strong>in</strong>g journal devoted entirely to <strong>the</strong> humanities,represented general literary culture, and its reviewsof books were anonymous. The Academy, as its nameimplies, <strong>was</strong> to have a closer connection with academicscholarship, and its articles were to be signed. Its firstnumber conta<strong>in</strong>ed an impos<strong>in</strong>g list of contributors; <strong>in</strong>literature Mat<strong>the</strong>w Arnold, <strong>in</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tics Sidney Colv<strong>in</strong>,<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ology Lightfoot and Cheyne, <strong>in</strong> science Huxley andLubbock, <strong>in</strong> classical scholarship Mark Pattison, Con<strong>in</strong>gton,and Rob<strong>in</strong>son Ellis. But <strong>the</strong> magaz<strong>in</strong>e, started undersuch brilliant auspices, had a chequered career and f<strong>in</strong>ally,after a transformation <strong>in</strong> which noth<strong>in</strong>g but <strong>the</strong> name <strong>was</strong>reta<strong>in</strong>ed, it died suddenly on <strong>the</strong> 11th of September, 1915,one of <strong>the</strong> victims of <strong>the</strong> World War.But <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies no one dreamt of <strong>the</strong> iron timeto come. I <strong>was</strong> myself a schoolboy, and my first acqua<strong>in</strong>tancewith <strong>the</strong> works of <strong>the</strong> writers who figure <strong>in</strong> thissurvey <strong>was</strong> ei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> my salad days at Clifton or <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> next decade at Oxford. They are thus to me as oldfamily friends, and if this gives anyth<strong>in</strong>g of a bias to myjudgment, I can at least claim to speak from longfamiliarity and early appreciation. Some, no doubt,would have preferred <strong>the</strong> verdicts of un jeune feroce'defam<strong>in</strong>g and defac<strong>in</strong>g'. But I venture to th<strong>in</strong>k thata decade that has to its credit Pater's Renaissance', <strong>the</strong>best critical work of R. H. Hutton, Stopford Brooke,Leslie Stephen and Edward Dowden, and Mat<strong>the</strong>wArnold's Wordsworth; and which saw <strong>the</strong> birth of <strong>the</strong>New Shakspere Society and <strong>the</strong> 'English Men of LettersSeries', will be able to hold up its head and look anyfuture <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> face.B 14
§10Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'SeventiesBy R W. MACANI. THE COMMEMORATION OF 1870T HE Old Order <strong>was</strong> not quite a th<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> past <strong>in</strong>Oxford at <strong>the</strong> dawn of <strong>the</strong> fourth decade of <strong>the</strong> Victorianage. Mr Gladstone, elected <strong>in</strong> 1847 one of <strong>the</strong> ParliamentaryBurgesses of <strong>the</strong> University and ' rusticated ', soto speak, <strong>in</strong> 1865, for his latent Liberalism, had travelledvia West Lancashire and Greenwich to Down<strong>in</strong>g Streetby November, 1868, to rule and reign for five sessions ofhighly contentious legislation. Reform <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> order of<strong>the</strong> day. All <strong>the</strong> world <strong>was</strong> on <strong>the</strong> move. The depressionof <strong>the</strong> first decade of <strong>the</strong> Queen's widowhood <strong>was</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>gto lift. Schleswig Holste<strong>in</strong> (1864), Sadowa (1866),and <strong>in</strong> this very <strong>year</strong> of grace, 1870, Sedan and Versailleshad exalted Prussia to German, and Germany to cont<strong>in</strong>ental,primacy. But that <strong>was</strong> hardly a triumph forLiberalism, though it <strong>was</strong> a good advertisement forGerman culture and science. England <strong>was</strong> not quitehappy about it. Oxford <strong>was</strong> not quite happy about it,or about herself, even though <strong>in</strong> that very summer <strong>the</strong>University had been celebrat<strong>in</strong>g a specially brilliantCommemoration of Founders and Benefactors, with itsnew Chancellor, Lord Salisbury <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> chair, two da<strong>in</strong>typages, little Lords Cran<strong>born</strong>e and William Cecil, to upholdhis black and gold tra<strong>in</strong>, and a crowd of em<strong>in</strong>entrecipients of degrees, honoris causa, among <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong>President of <strong>the</strong> Royal Academy to represent Art, andMr Mat<strong>the</strong>w Arnold of Oriel College, to personify Letters,
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 211all duly ' presented' by <strong>the</strong> Regius Professor of Civil Law,one James Bryce; <strong>the</strong> gala <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g an Ode, by <strong>the</strong>Professor of Poetry, Sir Francis Doyle, set to music by<strong>the</strong> Professor of that ilk, Sir Frederick Gore Ouseley, andconclud<strong>in</strong>g with <strong>the</strong> recitation of <strong>the</strong> Newdigate PrizePoem, by its stripl<strong>in</strong>g author, a fair-haired fresh-complexionedScholar of Corpus, whose golden appearanceand sonorous eloquence were not unworthy <strong>the</strong> occasion.Yes! Th<strong>in</strong>gs were beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g to look brighter, even <strong>in</strong>Oxford; but l'ancien regime had still n<strong>in</strong>e-tenths of <strong>the</strong>law under its caps and gowns.II. A SERMON IN STONESThe very stones of <strong>the</strong> place had a tale to tell. Thestreets were still paved with cobbles, and men movedwith difficulty <strong>in</strong> and out and about <strong>the</strong> City. Unless youwere wealthy and kept a horse, you trusted ma<strong>in</strong>ly toyour own legs for locomotion. Pedestrianism <strong>was</strong> still<strong>the</strong> joy of <strong>the</strong> read<strong>in</strong>g man <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oxford of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.But <strong>the</strong>n, he still had <strong>the</strong> unravished country of <strong>the</strong>Scholar Gipsy to wander over, with or without a companion.High bicycles were rare and alarm<strong>in</strong>g eng<strong>in</strong>es.The world had still <strong>year</strong>s to wait for <strong>the</strong> geared safetymach<strong>in</strong>e, simple and obvious as it looks. But when didmank<strong>in</strong>d ever arrive at <strong>the</strong> simple and obvious straightaway? There were a few old hansom cabs and fourwheelersabout, but little trade with <strong>the</strong>m, save at beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>gand end of term, for conveyance to and from <strong>the</strong>railway station: <strong>the</strong> railway had <strong>in</strong>sisted, despite <strong>the</strong>Dons, on com<strong>in</strong>g to Oxford, even by a roundabout route,and on a broad gauge, which it <strong>was</strong> soon to discover couldnot be ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong>ed. In <strong>the</strong> summer term we still droveout, on mighty chars-a-bancs, to <strong>the</strong> old Magdalen Groundand <strong>the</strong> Cowley Marsh for Cricket: Christ Church andMerton were <strong>the</strong> only Colleges <strong>the</strong>n blest with play<strong>in</strong>g-14-2
212 R. W. Macanfields with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> prec<strong>in</strong>cts. Oxford <strong>was</strong> still a duodecimoCity <strong>in</strong> those days. The country began just beyond <strong>the</strong>bridges, south and east and west, and soon after pass<strong>in</strong>gSt Giles his church, if you went north towards Woodstockor Banbury. Before <strong>the</strong> 'seventies slipped away, <strong>the</strong> CityFa<strong>the</strong>rs were push<strong>in</strong>g afield, and had discovered need fora water reservoir atop Head<strong>in</strong>gton Hill, and a .sewagefarm out of sight, beyond Littlemore. But with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> oldl<strong>in</strong>e of Walls <strong>the</strong> City still wore its early Victorian aspect.Carfax <strong>was</strong> as yet unimproved. The cobbled High Streetfrom Carfax to Eastgate <strong>was</strong> still its dear old self. StMart<strong>in</strong>'s Church at <strong>the</strong> upper end, and <strong>the</strong> narrow bridge,just wide enough for two carriages to pass, at <strong>the</strong> lowerend, were still <strong>in</strong> be<strong>in</strong>g. The deplorable K<strong>in</strong>g EdwardStreet <strong>was</strong> still but a project <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oriel bra<strong>in</strong>. Thefamous Angel Inn had not as yet made way for <strong>the</strong> NewSchools. Shops, piled with books or drugs or cloth<strong>in</strong>g,occupied <strong>the</strong> positions now filled by <strong>the</strong> new fronts ofBrasenose and Oriel. The St Swith<strong>in</strong>'s Build<strong>in</strong>gs ofMagdalen, had <strong>the</strong>y existed, would have been hidden by<strong>the</strong> umbrageous trees, which <strong>the</strong>n masked <strong>the</strong> SchoolRoom and <strong>the</strong> College out-houses. On a summer'smorn<strong>in</strong>g, look<strong>in</strong>g betimes from your w<strong>in</strong>dow on <strong>the</strong> High—if you were so lucky as to be lodged <strong>the</strong>reabouts—youmight observe <strong>the</strong> archaic method of lay<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> dust. Acopious tap turned on at Carfax, sent water down <strong>the</strong>street <strong>in</strong> two streams, one <strong>in</strong> each gutter. On ei<strong>the</strong>r sidea municipal Aquarius, armed with large wooden shoveland encased <strong>in</strong> long boots, advanced down street, andwith a tarpaul<strong>in</strong> contraption every thirty or forty yardsdammed <strong>the</strong> stream <strong>in</strong>to a pool, and with his shovel flung<strong>the</strong> water half-way across <strong>the</strong> street, careful to avoiddrench<strong>in</strong>g his vis-a-vis, diagonally and similarly engaged.The progressive 'eighties supervened to spoil all that,with <strong>the</strong>ir one-horsed tramcars, and sets, and macadam,
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 213and so forth. And though all this too is now <strong>in</strong> turn asdead as Queen Philippa or Queen Anne, a great expansionof Oxford came on with <strong>the</strong> 'eighties—not only extend<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> area but reconstruct<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> core and corpus of Cityand University. Never <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>re, of course, a decade <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> history of Oxford when some build<strong>in</strong>g <strong>was</strong> not toward.The 'sixties—not to go back beyond liv<strong>in</strong>g memory—hadwitnessed <strong>the</strong> erection of gaunt Veneto-Gothic build<strong>in</strong>gs<strong>in</strong> 'The Parks' for <strong>the</strong> Sciences, and <strong>in</strong> 'The Meadows'for lucky denizens of' The House', from plans illum<strong>in</strong>ated—as <strong>was</strong> whispered—by The Seven Lamps of Architecture.But s<strong>in</strong>ce <strong>the</strong> erection of <strong>the</strong> Martyrs' Memorial <strong>in</strong> 1841<strong>the</strong> lead<strong>in</strong>g mediaevalist <strong>in</strong> Oxford's architectural experimentshad been <strong>the</strong> first Sir Gilbert Scott, whosera<strong>the</strong>r heavy digit may be traced <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Libraries ofUniversity and Exeter, and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Broad Street andHolywell fronts of Exeter and New College respectively.Scott also <strong>in</strong>augurated <strong>the</strong> restorations <strong>in</strong> Christ Churchdur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> early 'seventies, some features of which provoked<strong>the</strong> whimsical wit of 'Lewis Carroll'—that merryma<strong>the</strong>matician—<strong>in</strong>to pr<strong>in</strong>ted sallies of now bibliopolistrarity. But no architect, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> liv<strong>in</strong>g legend of Oxfordbuild<strong>in</strong>g, has had so free a hand and so full a favour asSir Thomas Jackson,,whose victorious career <strong>was</strong> sealedby <strong>the</strong> commission for <strong>the</strong> New Schools, <strong>the</strong> discussionover which bulked large throughout <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. Themost important Collegiate build<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> decade <strong>was</strong>Butterfield's variegated elevation of Keble College <strong>in</strong>brick, which marked a new departure for College ideals<strong>in</strong> more than an architectural sense. The rebuild<strong>in</strong>g ofBalliol <strong>in</strong> stone (by Waterhouse) at least conformed tolocal tradition, even if economy dictated <strong>the</strong> addition ofan extra storey (as previously at Exeter and at NewCollege)—an example which once set and copied,threatens to darken <strong>the</strong> streets of Oxford with collegiate
214 R. W. Macanand commercial sky-scrapers. The clouds hang so lowbetimes <strong>in</strong> Thames valley.III. EPOCHS OF HISTORY: THE THREECOMMISSIONSBut even this sermon <strong>in</strong> stones—which is far fromexhaust<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> text—proves <strong>the</strong> untowardness of rigidtime-limits, <strong>in</strong> deal<strong>in</strong>g with movables, such as life andletters, which do not arrange <strong>the</strong>mselves <strong>in</strong> neat packetsof ten <strong>year</strong>s for our convenience. But roughly <strong>the</strong>'seventies serve to date <strong>the</strong> fourth decade of <strong>the</strong> VictorianAge, <strong>the</strong> latter half of <strong>the</strong> Mid-Victorian Epoch, andcover <strong>the</strong> phenomena of that dim and difficult period oftransition between <strong>the</strong> crescendo and collapse of <strong>the</strong>Early Victorians (1837-61) and <strong>the</strong> crescendo and f<strong>in</strong>alefortissimo of <strong>the</strong> Late Victorians (1881-1900). Now,dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> last quarter of <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century and <strong>the</strong>first quarter of <strong>the</strong> twentieth, Oxford has been rebuilt,reconstituted, nationalised, imperialised, popularised, orat least prepared for popularity; so that, <strong>in</strong> contrast with<strong>the</strong> present day, <strong>the</strong> Oxford of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies looks barelydist<strong>in</strong>guishable from <strong>the</strong> Oxford of <strong>the</strong> 'sixties, or even of<strong>the</strong> 'fifties—once <strong>the</strong> 'fifties were fairly under way. Yet<strong>the</strong> 'seventies brought matters to a crisis. Indeed, threegreat crises <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong> Oxford of liv<strong>in</strong>g memoryare marked by three statutable Commissions which,with<strong>in</strong> a lifetime, have visited <strong>the</strong> University and itsColleges, to <strong>in</strong>vestigate and to reform <strong>the</strong>m, or to sanction<strong>the</strong>ir self-reformation. Oxford has ever been a mirror ofEngland's life and culture, and its three recent crises havebeen organic to larger moments <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> nation's history.The Oxford Commission of 1854 and its work were foreorda<strong>in</strong>ed<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Reform Act of 1832. It broke up <strong>the</strong>Elizabethan and Carol<strong>in</strong>e constitution of University andColleges, not <strong>in</strong>deed completely but sufficiently to set <strong>the</strong>
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 215ball roll<strong>in</strong>g. It <strong>in</strong>itiated <strong>the</strong> emancipation of <strong>the</strong> Universityfrom <strong>the</strong> College dom<strong>in</strong>ium. It taxed <strong>the</strong> Colleges for<strong>the</strong> benefit of <strong>the</strong> Professoriate; it provided a cheaperadit to University education by establish<strong>in</strong>g non-collegiatestudents. It destroyed <strong>the</strong> old local liens onCollege endowments, and substituted—<strong>in</strong> accordancewith nul<strong>in</strong>g ideas of <strong>the</strong> day—Open Exam<strong>in</strong>ations andCompetition for patronage and privilege <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> award ofScholarships and Fellowships. In short, it enlarged <strong>the</strong>University to <strong>the</strong> classes which had been enfranchised by<strong>the</strong> Act of 1832, subject to certa<strong>in</strong> reservations. Inespecial, it left <strong>the</strong> resident University still predom<strong>in</strong>antlya clerical and celibate society; and Oxford, with its endowments,<strong>was</strong> still to be restricted to members of <strong>the</strong>Church of England, except that Matriculation and <strong>the</strong>Baccalaureate were relieved of Tests by <strong>the</strong> Act of 1854.But, before <strong>the</strong> 'sixties were over, <strong>the</strong>se survivals ofLaudian Oxford had become <strong>in</strong>tolerable. Changes effectedby <strong>the</strong> first Commission, which had seemed revolutionaryat <strong>the</strong> time, left resident Oxford unsatisfiedand conspir<strong>in</strong>g for more radical measures. The newly<strong>in</strong>vented 'Prize-Fellow', a non-resident who applied hisstipend to better his start <strong>in</strong> life outside Oxford, <strong>was</strong>bracketed with <strong>the</strong> ' Idle Fellow', as an abuse of Collegeendowments. The lack of permanent provision for layteachers, competent and will<strong>in</strong>g to undertake HigherEducation as <strong>the</strong>ir life's work, <strong>was</strong> pronounced anomalousand absurd. The endowment of Research, <strong>in</strong> lieu of cramand competition, became <strong>the</strong> mot cTordre of <strong>the</strong> advancedreformers. Already <strong>in</strong> 1870 <strong>the</strong> Queen's Speech at <strong>the</strong>open<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> Session commended to Parliament alegislative settlement of religious tests <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Universitiesand Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge: and althoughLord Salisbury contrived <strong>the</strong> postponement of <strong>the</strong> Bill,a measure to that effect <strong>was</strong> enacted <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> session of 1871.
216 R. W. MacanBut, albeit 'Reform from with<strong>in</strong>' had been proceed<strong>in</strong>gslowly meanwhile, <strong>the</strong> demand for a fresh Commission,to extend, co-ord<strong>in</strong>ate and accelerate <strong>the</strong> process <strong>was</strong> toourgent to be much longer resisted. The Universities Commissionof 1877, emanat<strong>in</strong>g from a Conservative Government,<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> welcome result. The demand for fur<strong>the</strong>rUniversity reforms had accumulated, by no mere aceident,an irresistible force with<strong>in</strong> ten <strong>year</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> Reform Act of1867; and no one thought of describ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> UniversitiesBill of 1877 as 'a leap <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> dark'. The Oxford Commissionaccomplished its proper task by <strong>the</strong> close of 1882,and made way aga<strong>in</strong> for <strong>the</strong> normal and statutable processof ' reform from with<strong>in</strong> '; which sufficed down to <strong>the</strong>late Lord Curzon's famous 'Red Letter' of 1908, and onto <strong>the</strong> third Commission of 1923, clearly relative to <strong>the</strong>Reform Acts of 1918 and 1927, which have added5,000,000 souls—or suffragists—to <strong>the</strong> Electorate, mak<strong>in</strong>gth<strong>in</strong>gs pleasant for <strong>the</strong> Proletariate. The third waveshould by rights be <strong>the</strong> most overwhelm<strong>in</strong>g. But ourthird Commission, though summoned by Moab andPhilistia to curse, has ended (<strong>the</strong>y tell me) <strong>in</strong> bless<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>academic Israel altoge<strong>the</strong>r. In fact <strong>the</strong> Commission,perhaps, effected, <strong>in</strong> consultation with University andColleges, little which <strong>the</strong> University and Colleges werenot prepared to do of <strong>the</strong>ir own motion. The effects, however,have been more uniform and rapid. Fur<strong>the</strong>r resultsare of course <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> future. We know what and where weare, but we know not what we shall be; nor what shall be<strong>the</strong> condition of Art and Letters, of Science and Religion,<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oxford of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, forty <strong>year</strong>s ahead, whichsome of us may live to see. However that may be, with<strong>in</strong>now liv<strong>in</strong>g memory Oxford has undergone a series of<strong>in</strong>ner changes and developments, <strong>in</strong> view of which <strong>the</strong>former 'seventies may fairly be described as a purelytransitional section: preserv<strong>in</strong>g much, <strong>in</strong> matter and <strong>in</strong>
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 217spirit, of <strong>the</strong> Oxford anterior to <strong>the</strong> first Commission, yetalready palpitat<strong>in</strong>g with <strong>the</strong> promise of <strong>the</strong> Oxford of <strong>the</strong>'n<strong>in</strong>eties, or even of <strong>the</strong> present century to date; butlack<strong>in</strong>g, perhaps, a clear and em<strong>in</strong>ent character of its own—a period of disappo<strong>in</strong>tment, unsatisfied demands, apparentreaction, yet with a touch of spr<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> air; atime of latent push and now visible importance, thoughanyth<strong>in</strong>g but '<strong>the</strong> perfect star, we saw not, when wemoved <strong>the</strong>re<strong>in</strong>'.IV. OXFORD AND LITERATUREWhat has all that to say to Literature? Much everyway! But we must discrim<strong>in</strong>ate between life and letters,between literature and literature. The relations betweenUniversities and Literatures are manifold and complicated,direct and <strong>in</strong>direct, local and ecumenical. OxfordUniversity is at any given moment a large association,with a still ampler penumbra: <strong>the</strong> city of Oxford conta<strong>in</strong>sbut <strong>the</strong> headquarters and nucleus of <strong>the</strong> bro<strong>the</strong>rhood.The majority of its members, past and present, are distributedthroughout <strong>the</strong> country, <strong>the</strong> dom<strong>in</strong>ions, <strong>the</strong> wideworld. As men, and women, of culture and education,<strong>the</strong>y owe <strong>the</strong>se advantages, <strong>in</strong> greater or less part, toOxford. If literature means anyth<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong>m—and itnot seldom means at least bread and butter—Oxford hashelped <strong>the</strong>m to that mean<strong>in</strong>g, and has, perhaps, spread<strong>the</strong> butter a little thicker on <strong>the</strong> bread. Those of <strong>the</strong>m forwhom literature has a purely cultural value, would notdisown a debt to Oxford. But what critic would be boldenough to attempt, from this po<strong>in</strong>t of view, an estimateof <strong>the</strong> service of Oxford to literature? The learned Professions,<strong>the</strong> Civil Services of <strong>the</strong> empire, o<strong>the</strong>r Universities,Schools of all grades, Churches of all denom<strong>in</strong>ations,are staffed by men and women, who—no doubtwith vary<strong>in</strong>g consciousness and results—are what <strong>the</strong>y
218 R. W. Macanare and do what <strong>the</strong>y do thanks to <strong>the</strong>ir trivium or quadrivium<strong>in</strong> Oxford. But this <strong>the</strong>me is so obvious, so vast,so <strong>in</strong>tangible, that we must here be content to take noteof it, and pass on. Let us concentrate attention upon <strong>the</strong>domestic activities of <strong>the</strong> University dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> periodprescribed by our title. In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, as always, andprimarily, <strong>the</strong> University <strong>was</strong> a High School, • whichoffered a literary and scientific tra<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g, and prided itselfespecially on its paedagogic values for practical life,'that <strong>the</strong>re might never be want<strong>in</strong>g a succession of fitpersons for <strong>the</strong> service of God <strong>in</strong> Church and State': anideal, which is <strong>in</strong> part a bequest of <strong>the</strong> clerical tradition,and more especially a product of <strong>the</strong> College regime.Oxford's aim has always been to educate our masters,that is, <strong>the</strong> class—or <strong>the</strong> mass—which governs <strong>the</strong>country, and decides its dest<strong>in</strong>ies. It is so now: it <strong>was</strong> so,mutatis mutandis, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. But this great purposeis not <strong>in</strong> itself a direct ga<strong>in</strong> to Letters and Science,but ra<strong>the</strong>r a discomfort for <strong>the</strong>m, however well it maysort with o<strong>the</strong>r elements <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> life of <strong>the</strong> place: sports,clubs, social <strong>in</strong>tercourse and friendships, for which Oxfordaffords unsurpassed opportunities. So it comes about thatOxford's primary relations with Literature are <strong>in</strong>direct,critical, propaedeutic. The University exists ra<strong>the</strong>r for<strong>the</strong> conservation and study than for <strong>the</strong> production ofliterature. It appreciates and imparts <strong>the</strong> power toappreciate literature, which it does not itself produce.It devotes itself to teach<strong>in</strong>g and learn<strong>in</strong>g, more than topoetic <strong>in</strong>crement. It practises orig<strong>in</strong>al research ra<strong>the</strong>rthan orig<strong>in</strong>al <strong>in</strong>vention. If it displays some literaryactivity, its output is apt to be a contribution to knowledgera<strong>the</strong>r than a gift to Belles Lettres. Its most impressiveresults <strong>in</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t will generally be aids to scienceor learn<strong>in</strong>g: word-books, text-books, commentaries, <strong>in</strong>troductions,prolegomena, manuals—<strong>in</strong> short, not litera-
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 219ture, but <strong>the</strong> implements of literary production, not <strong>the</strong>th<strong>in</strong>g itself, but its technical prerequisites. Universities,as such, are hewers of wood and drawers of water to <strong>the</strong>true lords of literary creation.Moreover, a University such as ours, with its serriedranks of Professors, Readers, Demonstrators, Tutors,Lecturers, and 'Coaches', creates a local depression notover-favourable to literary productivities. There are toomany clever men on <strong>the</strong> same ground do<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> sameth<strong>in</strong>g. Too many cooks spoil <strong>the</strong> broth. The air is toohighly charged with negative criticism. The perpetualstudy and exposition of classical masterpieces (whatever<strong>the</strong> languages <strong>in</strong> which <strong>the</strong>y are preserved) is adverse to<strong>the</strong> student's orig<strong>in</strong>ality: <strong>the</strong> vision of <strong>the</strong> Best is hostileto <strong>the</strong> idea of <strong>the</strong> Good. In this respect younger Universities,less fully equipped, where one or two teachers areat work <strong>in</strong> each department, may diffuse a less fatalmiasma over literary ambitions, and afford a morefavourable soil for literary experiments. At Oxford where<strong>the</strong>re are twenty Colleges, or more, and every College<strong>in</strong>sists on secret<strong>in</strong>g its own philosopher, its own historian,its Lector <strong>in</strong> Greek and its Lector <strong>in</strong> Lat<strong>in</strong>, its Tutors,its Demonstrators, et caeteros, pos<strong>in</strong>g as a little University<strong>in</strong> itself—to say noth<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> phalanx of Professorsduplicat<strong>in</strong>g and reduplicat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> teach<strong>in</strong>g offensive, andrais<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> dynamic of mutual criticism to <strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ity—<strong>the</strong>would-be author of a half-crown handbook <strong>in</strong> a ClarendonPress series will th<strong>in</strong>k once and aga<strong>in</strong> before expos<strong>in</strong>ghimself to <strong>the</strong> chill<strong>in</strong>g silence or <strong>the</strong> tepid appreciationof his commilitones, by rush<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to pr<strong>in</strong>t. Doubtless<strong>the</strong>re is a deal of anonymous authorship <strong>in</strong> periodicalliterature traceable to academic sources: but 'safetyfirst' is your scholar's watchword. The list of projectedbut unpr<strong>in</strong>ted works <strong>in</strong> any given decade of <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenthcentury <strong>in</strong> Oxford might make a tragi-comic tale
220 R. W. Macanof <strong>the</strong> good <strong>in</strong>tentions of that pa<strong>the</strong>tic sub-species, Homosapiens academicus. And aga<strong>in</strong>: <strong>the</strong> advance <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> styleand standard of tutorial and professorial work, alreadyapparent dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, made heavier demandson <strong>the</strong> time and energies of <strong>the</strong> teacher, leav<strong>in</strong>g him lesshappily disposed for literary achievements. But <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluencemost of all fatal to productivity <strong>was</strong>, and* 5 is, <strong>the</strong>Exam<strong>in</strong>ation system, with its power over <strong>the</strong> methodsand conditions of study and teach<strong>in</strong>g, especially <strong>the</strong> fixedcurriculum and <strong>the</strong> time limit for <strong>the</strong> Honour Schools.Not merely do such conditions <strong>in</strong>troduce a competitivenote or motif, <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> Exam<strong>in</strong>ation. Not merely doesExam<strong>in</strong>ation under such conditions demoralise <strong>the</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ereven more than <strong>the</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ee—for <strong>the</strong> latter soonescapes <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> fresh air. The worst of it is that a prescribedcurriculum, under a time limit of study, is apt to beeclectic and arbitrary, preclud<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> student from' carv<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> capon by <strong>the</strong> jo<strong>in</strong>ts', and from pursu<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> topicsmost attractive or suitable to his idiosyncrasy; while <strong>the</strong>competitive exam<strong>in</strong>ation at <strong>the</strong> close—on which his immediatefortunes may depend—dictates cram and sophistry,and offers a premium to <strong>the</strong> pen of <strong>the</strong> too ready writer.In a sense <strong>the</strong> system might, <strong>in</strong>deed, appear to favourliterature of a sort ra<strong>the</strong>r than learn<strong>in</strong>g, to encouragerhetoric, or '<strong>the</strong> art of putt<strong>in</strong>g th<strong>in</strong>gs', at <strong>the</strong> expense ofgenu<strong>in</strong>e knowledge. And <strong>the</strong> old Oxford education,which <strong>was</strong> at its zenith <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, <strong>was</strong> open to somesuch <strong>in</strong>dictment, at least <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> literary Schools: Ma<strong>the</strong>maticsand Physical Science (as it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n called) were<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir very nature less liable to sophistic corruption.But <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r two f<strong>in</strong>al Schools—<strong>the</strong>re were but four <strong>in</strong>all at <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies—Literae Humanioresand Law and History were marvellous exercises <strong>in</strong> literarycamouflage; especially <strong>the</strong> former, which <strong>was</strong> generallyrecognised as <strong>the</strong> best preparation for <strong>the</strong> two professions,
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 221whose functions have sometimes been described as be<strong>in</strong>gto make <strong>the</strong> better case appear <strong>the</strong> worse, and <strong>the</strong> worsecase appear <strong>the</strong> better, to wit, Journalism and <strong>the</strong> Bar.Such Schools were certa<strong>in</strong>ly noth<strong>in</strong>g, if not literary. TheClassical School <strong>in</strong>cluded Greek and Lat<strong>in</strong> Literature,with Philosophy and Ancient History: but <strong>the</strong> Literatureand History were conf<strong>in</strong>ed to certa<strong>in</strong> select authors orbooks, and <strong>the</strong> Philosophy to a couple of Greek texts,plus a hotch-potch of modern authorities, ma<strong>in</strong>ly takenon trust from Lecturer or Coach. The Modern Schooldrove Law and History <strong>in</strong> double harness, or tandem, <strong>the</strong>general result be<strong>in</strong>g that its exam<strong>in</strong>ees, at <strong>the</strong> end of two<strong>year</strong>s, or so, were nei<strong>the</strong>r qualified lawyers, nor competenthistorians, but had acquired a certa<strong>in</strong> facility <strong>in</strong>tackl<strong>in</strong>g a question, though <strong>the</strong> literary results wereadmittedly not up to <strong>the</strong> classical standard. Changes<strong>in</strong>augurated <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies have <strong>in</strong> course of timebrought about a vast improvement <strong>in</strong> Oxford education:an improvement, which has been described as <strong>the</strong> substitutionof scientific for literary methods and standards<strong>in</strong> education, but has really covered an amelioration on<strong>the</strong> literary no less than on <strong>the</strong> scientific side. One coefficient<strong>in</strong> this improvement may be seen <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> separationof Law and History <strong>in</strong>to two Schools, <strong>in</strong> 1872. Onlywhile such a mesalliance lasted could such a solemn farcehave been staged <strong>in</strong> Oxford as <strong>the</strong> millenary celebration,<strong>in</strong> 1872, of <strong>the</strong> foundation of University College by K<strong>in</strong>gAlfred—a pure myth, or ra<strong>the</strong>r mare's-nest, though recognisedby <strong>the</strong> Courts from Richard II to George I, andto that extent <strong>the</strong> law, if not <strong>the</strong> history, of <strong>the</strong> land. TheSchool of Theology, dat<strong>in</strong>g likewise from <strong>the</strong> early'seventies, <strong>was</strong> also from its nature more truly ' scientific'than Literae Humaniores or Law and History. The sameobservation holds good of <strong>the</strong> English School, and <strong>the</strong>Schools of Modern Languages and Oriental Languages,
222 R. W. Macanfor which Oxford had to wait several decades. And sostrong has been <strong>the</strong> old literary tradition of classical' Greats', that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> present scientific age <strong>the</strong> Universityhas thought it could do noth<strong>in</strong>g better for <strong>the</strong> Greeklessyouth surviv<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> war than to devise a sort of antitype,or parody, of Literae Humaniores <strong>in</strong> a F<strong>in</strong>al School, embrac<strong>in</strong>gPhilosophy, History, and Economics, all withouttears, that is to say, English for <strong>the</strong> English. Happilyth<strong>in</strong>gs are different with <strong>the</strong> late-<strong>born</strong> Research Degrees(B.Litt., B.Sc., D.Ph., D.Litt., D.Sc.), for which candidateschoose <strong>the</strong>ir own subjects of study, pursue <strong>the</strong>mat leisure, and obta<strong>in</strong> academic Honours only on <strong>the</strong>production of adequate literary results. Such results aremore scientific and at <strong>the</strong> same time more literary thananyth<strong>in</strong>g procurable <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> old-fashioned Schools of <strong>the</strong>University. Only <strong>in</strong> justice to l'ancien regime be it rememberedthat <strong>the</strong> better system <strong>was</strong> germ<strong>in</strong>at<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>University of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, under <strong>the</strong> multiplication ofsubjects, <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>crease <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Professoriate, <strong>the</strong> organisationof comb<strong>in</strong>ed College Lectures, <strong>the</strong> adoption by Collegeteachers of academic work as a permanent career, <strong>the</strong>ris<strong>in</strong>g number of students: <strong>in</strong> short, <strong>the</strong> growth of thoseelements and movements <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> life of <strong>the</strong> University,which were germane to <strong>the</strong> work of <strong>the</strong> Commission of1877, and as developed ah <strong>in</strong>tra by succeed<strong>in</strong>g generationshave made <strong>the</strong> Oxford of 1928, if juxtaposed with <strong>the</strong>Oxford of <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century, or evenof <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, look really ra<strong>the</strong>r like a new academicheaven and earth <strong>in</strong> little.Granted that <strong>the</strong> Schools had merely a paedagogicrelation to literature, yet University prizes served as <strong>in</strong>centivesto authorship, especially <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> native tongue.Such prizes are generally awarded under conditionshardly felt as h<strong>in</strong>drances to production; though <strong>the</strong>subject be prescribed, <strong>the</strong> composition is voluntary, and
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 223<strong>the</strong> successful result a work of supererogation, redound<strong>in</strong>gto <strong>the</strong> repute and even to <strong>the</strong> consolation of <strong>the</strong> w<strong>in</strong>ner;for, although such prizes fall, as a rule, to men whosenames are to be found <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> First Class of <strong>the</strong> HonourSchools, a University prize not <strong>in</strong>frequently attests <strong>the</strong>merit of a student, who has worked at a disadvantageunder <strong>the</strong> conditions of <strong>the</strong> normal exam<strong>in</strong>ations. Suchfreer exercises obviously leave more scope for specialability and <strong>in</strong>dividual preferences than <strong>the</strong> prescribedand congested programmes of <strong>the</strong> Honour Schools. Areassur<strong>in</strong>g evidence of <strong>the</strong> value of such academic premiumsfor <strong>in</strong>dividual study and production may be seen<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> permanent place, which some prize compositionshave taken <strong>in</strong> contemporary literature. The most notorious<strong>in</strong>stance, James Bryce's Arnold Essay on The HolyRoman Empire, carries back to 1863. Albert Dicey's On<strong>the</strong> Privy Council, three <strong>year</strong>s earlier, at least prefiguredhis standard works on <strong>the</strong> English Constitution. John A.Doyle on <strong>the</strong> eve of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies won <strong>the</strong> same prizewith an Essay on The English Colonies <strong>in</strong> America before<strong>the</strong> Declaration of Independence, which afterwards grew<strong>in</strong>to five volumes, <strong>the</strong> work of a life-time. The Chancellor'sPrize <strong>in</strong> 1863 for an English Essay on TheRenaissance <strong>was</strong> won by J. A. Symonds, <strong>the</strong> futurehistorian of The Renaissance <strong>in</strong> Italy, and author ofseveral cognate works. In 1871 <strong>the</strong> Chancellor's Prize<strong>was</strong> offered for an Essay on The Universities of <strong>the</strong> MiddleAges, but <strong>the</strong> time <strong>was</strong> not ripe, and <strong>the</strong> prize <strong>was</strong> notawarded. The same subject, when repeated <strong>in</strong> 1883,evoked a response from Hast<strong>in</strong>gs Rashdall, which reappeared,twelve <strong>year</strong>s later, expanded <strong>in</strong>to three volumes,to become at once <strong>the</strong> standard authority upon <strong>the</strong> subject.In 1879 <strong>the</strong> Arnold Prize <strong>was</strong> appropriately takenby a grandson of Dr Arnold's with an essay on TheRoman System of Prov<strong>in</strong>cial Adm<strong>in</strong>istration, which, when
224 R. W. Macanpublished <strong>in</strong> book form, <strong>was</strong> recognised as an admirablehandbook on an important topic of ancient history, andpassed through several editions. But habent sua fatalibelli. Not every prize essay worthy of a literaryapo<strong>the</strong>osis obta<strong>in</strong>s publication. The Normans <strong>in</strong> Italyand Sicily 1070-1270, <strong>the</strong> 'Arnold' for 1873, <strong>was</strong> longdest<strong>in</strong>ed to appear <strong>in</strong> enlarged book form. Its ,author,R. L. Nettleship, for a while had deserted LiteraeHumaniores to <strong>in</strong>vade <strong>the</strong> mediaeval preserves of <strong>the</strong>crescent School of Historia Moderna, demonstrat<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong>reby not so much <strong>the</strong> unity of history as <strong>the</strong> enterpriseof philosophers. But first a rumour that EdwardFreeman <strong>was</strong> engaged upon an exhaustive history ofSicily, and <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> heavy demands of a Balliol Tutorship,and one th<strong>in</strong>g with ano<strong>the</strong>r, conspired to checkliterary possibilities, which perished with that all toogallant soul on Mont Blanc <strong>in</strong> 1893.V. UNIVERSITY IDEALS: JOWETT ANDPATTISONClass Lists and Prize Lists of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies conta<strong>in</strong> nota few names, besides those above mentioned, of mendest<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong> or out of Oxford to make notable contributionsto literature—<strong>the</strong> Sweets, Sonnensche<strong>in</strong>s, Lodges,Firths, Godleys, Kers, Mackails, Margoliouths and o<strong>the</strong>rs—who must here make way for <strong>the</strong> older men of literarydist<strong>in</strong>ction and academic prestige, prom<strong>in</strong>ent and dom<strong>in</strong>ant<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University dur<strong>in</strong>g that decade. The greatestman of <strong>the</strong> time and place <strong>was</strong> Benjam<strong>in</strong> Jowett, RegiusProfessor of Greek; and <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> first <strong>year</strong> ofwhich he succeeded Scott, of lexicographic fame, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Headship of Balliol College, <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> period of his maturevigour, <strong>in</strong>fluence, and success, though his Vice-Chancellorshipfell <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> subsequent decade. Jowett <strong>was</strong> fiftythree<strong>year</strong>s of age when he became Master of Balliol, and
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> ' Seventies 225he reigned over Balliol for three and twenty <strong>year</strong>s, be<strong>in</strong>gthroughout <strong>the</strong> most conspicuous personality <strong>in</strong> Oxfordand one of <strong>the</strong> most important <strong>in</strong>termediaries between<strong>the</strong> University and <strong>the</strong> outer world. Devoted as Jowett<strong>was</strong> to <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terests of his College, 'always th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g of<strong>the</strong> Undergraduates', and with a def<strong>in</strong>ite policy for <strong>the</strong>University as a palaestra for <strong>the</strong> tra<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g of able youths,whe<strong>the</strong>r rich or poor, for service, or success, <strong>in</strong> practicaland public life, Jowett <strong>was</strong> also an em<strong>in</strong>ent man of letters,with high ambition (' Can I ever write as well as Renan?')and immense <strong>in</strong>dustry; and his actual literary achievement,though fall<strong>in</strong>g far short of his plan and <strong>in</strong>tention,<strong>was</strong> very considerable. He had suffered <strong>in</strong> various waysfor his anticipations of modernist <strong>the</strong>ology; but, thoughhis opponents had managed to starve him awhile asProfessor of Greek, he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>vulnerable as Master ofBalliol. The 'seventies witnessed <strong>the</strong> publication of hischief work: <strong>the</strong> complete translation, with elaborate<strong>in</strong>troductions, of <strong>the</strong> Dialogues of Plato, a work, aptlydescribed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Inaugural Lecture of his illustrioussuccessor, Ingram Bywater, as 'an English Classic'; and<strong>the</strong> 'seventies barely closed before his translation of <strong>the</strong>History of Thucydides <strong>was</strong> published. These two greattasks, <strong>the</strong> former of which appeared <strong>in</strong> a second editionwith<strong>in</strong> five <strong>year</strong>s, far from exhaust<strong>in</strong>g his literary record,were preceded and succeeded by work of hardly lesssignificance <strong>in</strong> its day. Jowett's English style makes himone of <strong>the</strong> great authors of <strong>the</strong> Victorian Age; but it is astyle <strong>in</strong> which <strong>the</strong> right word and <strong>the</strong> felicitous sentencecount for more than <strong>the</strong> syn<strong>the</strong>sis of <strong>the</strong> paragraph or <strong>the</strong>dialectic of <strong>the</strong> argument. In academic politics Jowett<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> chief exponent of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ory and practice whichtreat <strong>the</strong> University as a tra<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g station for practical lifera<strong>the</strong>r than as a laboratory of science; his heart <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> College, imprimis his own College, not <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> organisa-B 15
226 R. W. Macantion of Faculties or <strong>the</strong> endowment of Research. Yet he<strong>was</strong> zealous for University Institutions such as <strong>the</strong>Bodleian Library, <strong>the</strong> Indian Institute—just <strong>the</strong>n on <strong>the</strong>tapis—<strong>the</strong> Clarendon Press, even <strong>the</strong> New Museum; andhe <strong>was</strong> one of <strong>the</strong> pioneers of <strong>the</strong> University ExtensionMovement, though not over-cordial to <strong>the</strong> fem<strong>in</strong>ist <strong>in</strong>vasionof Oxford itself. Much of all this <strong>was</strong> doubtlessof service to Literature as well as to Education. Still itmust be admitted that younger reformers <strong>in</strong> Oxforddur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies looked elsewhere for a lead and aprogramme. They found <strong>the</strong> programme to hand <strong>in</strong> MarkPattison's Suggestions on Academical Organisation, publishedat Ed<strong>in</strong>burgh <strong>in</strong> 1868. Some of <strong>the</strong>m found it also<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir own experience of University life and methodsabroad—for a fashion <strong>was</strong> now beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g, which ledserious students <strong>in</strong> Oxford to frequent cont<strong>in</strong>ental, andchiefly German, Universities for a <strong>year</strong>, or more, of <strong>in</strong>tensivestudy. There lies before me, as I write, <strong>the</strong> M<strong>in</strong>utebookof a short-lived Association of young residentmembers of Convocation, which met twice or thrice aterm, dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>s 1876 and 1877, and came to atimely end with <strong>the</strong> appo<strong>in</strong>tment of <strong>the</strong> Commission <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> latter <strong>year</strong>. The two Colleges most largely represented<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> membership were Balliol and Christ Church;that is, as some might have said, <strong>the</strong> College least <strong>in</strong> needand <strong>the</strong> College most <strong>in</strong> need of reform. But from <strong>the</strong>Association's po<strong>in</strong>t of view <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> not so very much tochoose between <strong>the</strong>m: and Balliol, under its new Master<strong>was</strong> even, perhaps, <strong>the</strong> more dangerous of <strong>the</strong> twa<strong>in</strong>. Theobject of <strong>the</strong> Association <strong>was</strong> six-fold: (1) The supportof liberal pr<strong>in</strong>ciples <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University ('liberal' hav<strong>in</strong>g, ofcourse, <strong>in</strong> this connection, no political connotation).(2) The abolition of all clerical restrictions. (3) The reformof <strong>the</strong> constitution of <strong>the</strong> University. (4) The promotionof learn<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University. (5) The improvement of
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 227teach<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University. (6) The reform of <strong>the</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ationsystem. The Honorary Secretaries of <strong>the</strong>Association were two young graduates, who had spentsome months toge<strong>the</strong>r at <strong>the</strong> Universities of Jena andZurich. Of <strong>the</strong> fourteen Masters of Arts who attended <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>augural meet<strong>in</strong>g on <strong>the</strong> 14th of June, 1876, <strong>in</strong> MrTatton's rooms at Balliol, four survive to-day, and mightbe forgiven if <strong>the</strong>y had forgotten all about it. Be thatas it may, <strong>the</strong>y have seen <strong>the</strong>ir programme more thanrealised dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> half-century which has elapsed s<strong>in</strong>cethat scarce-remembered meet<strong>in</strong>g. The term 'Literature'did not occur <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> programme, but it <strong>was</strong> implied, toge<strong>the</strong>rwith Science, <strong>in</strong> at least half <strong>the</strong> items; andvarious associates, were <strong>the</strong>ir names divulged, mightrank among <strong>the</strong> more productive sons of modern Oxford.But to return to Pattison and Jowett: both had beenamong <strong>the</strong> alarm<strong>in</strong>g Essayists and Reviewers of 1860,toge<strong>the</strong>r with Frederick Temple, D.D., at that date stillHead Master of Rugby School. It <strong>was</strong> more important,apparently, for <strong>the</strong> Head of a School than for <strong>the</strong> Headof a College, to be a Doctor of Div<strong>in</strong>ity—at that time, anduntil recently, a merely formal and f<strong>in</strong>ancial dist<strong>in</strong>ction<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University—and nei<strong>the</strong>r Pattison nor Jowett everproceeded to <strong>the</strong> higher degree, which <strong>the</strong>y might havehad for <strong>the</strong> ask<strong>in</strong>g, and <strong>the</strong> fees. Both were Liberals <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> academic sense, and each had his own ideal for <strong>the</strong>University: Jowett's, <strong>the</strong> more immediate, practical, and<strong>in</strong>sular; Pattison's, <strong>the</strong> more remote, far-reach<strong>in</strong>g, andcont<strong>in</strong>ental. But <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> much common to <strong>the</strong> two:imprimis, a freer access for all classes of citizens to <strong>the</strong>University. If it <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> Rector of L<strong>in</strong>coln who demandedthat students should be allowed to live <strong>in</strong>lodg<strong>in</strong>gs, and so cheaply, it <strong>was</strong> Balliol which first tookor obta<strong>in</strong>ed leave for such residence, to ease <strong>the</strong> rebuild<strong>in</strong>gof a large part of <strong>the</strong> College about <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g of our15-2
228 R. W. Macanperiod. The <strong>in</strong>stitution of non-collegiate students, known<strong>in</strong> those days as 'Unattached*, fur<strong>the</strong>r helped forwardthis movement for economy.VI. PHILOSOPHY AT OXFORD IN THE'SEVENTIESIt clarified <strong>the</strong> situation to have <strong>the</strong> alternative idealsof University progress, Education versus Learn<strong>in</strong>g, respectivelypersonified <strong>in</strong> ' The Master' and ' The Rector',with 'Results' as <strong>the</strong> supposed watchword of <strong>the</strong> one,and 'Research' that of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r. Fortunately, as <strong>the</strong>sequel proved, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> room <strong>in</strong> Oxford for both. Yet<strong>the</strong> dist<strong>in</strong>ction cut deeper than might appear at firstsight. Pattison <strong>was</strong> above all th<strong>in</strong>gs a philosopher, andwould have had philosophy, <strong>in</strong> conjunction, perhaps, with<strong>the</strong>ology, recognised as crown of <strong>the</strong> sciences, and goal of<strong>the</strong> academic curriculum. But he <strong>was</strong> no less hostile thanJowett to philosophy, if reduced to merely literary andeclectic study of <strong>the</strong> metaphysical essays or systems of<strong>the</strong> past. In his conception philosophy <strong>was</strong> based upon<strong>the</strong> scientific <strong>in</strong>vestigation of nature, <strong>in</strong>clud<strong>in</strong>g humannature, and should achieve <strong>the</strong> progressive syn<strong>the</strong>sis ofdiscovery and knowledge from generation to generation.Jowett's attitude <strong>was</strong> really more conservative andtraditional. As he aged he became more and more mistrustfulof metaphysic, without acquir<strong>in</strong>g more than animperfect sympathy with <strong>the</strong> growth of <strong>the</strong> 'NaturalSciences'—a title which first became official <strong>in</strong> Oxforddur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies—and 'The Master' fell back uponwhat has been called above <strong>the</strong> literary <strong>in</strong> contrast with<strong>the</strong> scientific position, emphasis<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> value of Universityeducation as a preparation for civil life and labours.He distrusted <strong>the</strong> development of philosophic speculation,which <strong>was</strong> a marked feature of our decade; <strong>in</strong> hisown College he virtually reduced Thomas Hill Green, its
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 229chief promoter and exponent at <strong>the</strong> time, to temporarysilence,Mark Pattison might not have fully endorsedGreen's particular trend <strong>in</strong> philosophy, which <strong>was</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>rremote from an attempt to build up a metaphysic from<strong>the</strong> sublimation of <strong>the</strong> natural sciences, such as is nowbe<strong>in</strong>g evolved before our very eyes; and yet might haverecognised it as a vast improvement on <strong>the</strong> sensationalistand materialist doctr<strong>in</strong>e <strong>in</strong> vogue dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'sixties.Green rega<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong>dependence with his belated electionto <strong>the</strong> Chair of Moral Philosophy <strong>in</strong> 1878. The product ofhis all too short-lived activities is documented <strong>in</strong> hisProlegomena to Ethics (1883) and <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> three volumes ofhis Philosophical Works (1885-8), all posthumous publicationsbut represent<strong>in</strong>g substantially <strong>the</strong> character ofthat philosophy which gradually acquired predom<strong>in</strong>ance<strong>in</strong> Oxford dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. The work of his bestknownfollowers—Herbert Bradley and Bernard Bosanquet—carried<strong>the</strong> new metaphysic to conclusions whichhad no doubt been implicitly conta<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong> it all along;but nei<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong>se notable writers <strong>was</strong> enrolled <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>University Professoriate. Bradley lived, <strong>in</strong>deed, for morethan fifty <strong>year</strong>s <strong>in</strong> Merton, but never held any teach<strong>in</strong>gpost <strong>in</strong> College or University. Bosanquet withdrew fromOxford, after a short spell of College tuition, partly (asI believe) <strong>in</strong> disgust with <strong>the</strong> limitations imposed on anyattempt to philosophise freely under <strong>the</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ationalreign of terror. Lewis Nettleship's Philosophical Lecturesand Rema<strong>in</strong>s, two volumes edited by his friend and sometimecolleague, Andrew Bradley, and published <strong>in</strong> 1897,conta<strong>in</strong> fur<strong>the</strong>r materials for an estimate of <strong>the</strong> philosophicteach<strong>in</strong>g current <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oxford of <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesand 'eighties; and additional evidence may meet us <strong>in</strong>less obvious quarters. Philosophy, <strong>in</strong> spite of somelosses, <strong>was</strong> a grow<strong>in</strong>g power <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oxford of that period,and has been such ever s<strong>in</strong>ce, even if its colours and
230 R. W. Macancomplexion are greatly changed. A brilliant symptom ofits vitality <strong>in</strong> those earlier days <strong>was</strong> noted, when a youngTutor of Merton, William Wallace—who <strong>was</strong> dest<strong>in</strong>ed tosucceed to Green's Chair <strong>in</strong> 1882, and to vacate it by afatal accident fifteen <strong>year</strong>s later—announced, <strong>in</strong> 1873, acourse of lectures on <strong>the</strong> Logic of Hegel, which <strong>was</strong> wellattended, chiefly by still younger graduates, and issued<strong>in</strong> a substantial volume from <strong>the</strong> Clarendon Press <strong>in</strong> 1874.Significantly enough Wallace warned his readers thatHegel's work had all been accomplished at a time, nearlyhalf-a-century before, 'when modern science and InductiveLogic had yet to w<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir laurels, and when <strong>the</strong>world <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> many ways different from what it is now'.A detached m<strong>in</strong>d might surmise that, from such beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>gs,philosophy <strong>in</strong> Oxford would have had an evenricher and more rapid harvest, had it been more closelyrelated to <strong>the</strong> new School of Natural Science, and delivered,if not from its preoccupation with Greek literature,at least from its liaison with Ancient History (Greekand Roman). I confess, as a graduate of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>in</strong>Literae Humaniores, that I cannot remember to haveheard <strong>the</strong> name of Darw<strong>in</strong>, or <strong>the</strong> term Evolution, <strong>in</strong>o<strong>the</strong>r than an Hegelian sense, from any of <strong>the</strong> philosophicpundits of <strong>the</strong> time: though I may add that I returnedfrom Germany to Oxford, half-way through <strong>the</strong> decade,to f<strong>in</strong>d Ray Lankester translat<strong>in</strong>g Hackel's Schopfungsgeschichtefor <strong>the</strong> British public, a work, <strong>the</strong> substanceof which I had been hear<strong>in</strong>g and see<strong>in</strong>g (for Hackel <strong>was</strong>a masterly draughtsman) <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> shape of professorialVortrdge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Museum at Jena. My private conclusion<strong>the</strong>n <strong>was</strong> that not until philosophers became ' scientists',or scientists became philosophers, should we obta<strong>in</strong> aworld-wisdom quite worthy of <strong>the</strong> time and place. Thenotion that Natural Science had any quarrel with Literature,sometimes heard <strong>in</strong> those days, <strong>was</strong> as superficial
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 231as <strong>the</strong> cognate notion that science, as such, <strong>was</strong> hostileto religion, and might have been refuted by appeal to<strong>the</strong> literary em<strong>in</strong>ence of <strong>the</strong> leaders of science <strong>in</strong> Oxfordat <strong>the</strong> time, such as Acland, Rolleston, Henry Smith,Vernon Harcourt, Moseley and o<strong>the</strong>rs. But I see nowthat I did less than justice to <strong>the</strong> philosophers <strong>in</strong> Oxford,when'I deserted <strong>the</strong>ir ranks, under <strong>the</strong> conviction thathistorical methods furnished <strong>the</strong> safest clue to <strong>the</strong> riddlesof human existence <strong>in</strong> every time and place.VII. HISTORY AT OXFORD IN THE 'SEVENTIESCerta<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>the</strong> brightest hope for letters<strong>in</strong> Oxford lay with <strong>the</strong> growth and vigour of <strong>the</strong> School,or Faculty, of Modern History, especially after its releasefrom <strong>the</strong> mariage de convenance with Jurisprudence. Notthat Jurisprudence <strong>was</strong> not alive at <strong>the</strong> time, at least <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> Professoriate. Throughout our decade Sir HenryMa<strong>in</strong>e <strong>was</strong> deliver<strong>in</strong>g his classic lectures on Early Institutions,on Law and Custom, and so forth, all immediatelyfit for publication. But Ma<strong>in</strong>e <strong>was</strong> a nonresidentProfessor—like <strong>the</strong> Professor of Poetry, or <strong>the</strong>Slade Professor of Art—and his true academic homebeckoned from <strong>the</strong> sister University, to which he of rightbelonged. Of course our School of Law, as <strong>the</strong> sequel hasproved, stood to ga<strong>in</strong> quite as much by an <strong>in</strong>dependentconstitution, as did its yoke-fellow; it had, moreover, aunique advantage among <strong>the</strong> Faculties of <strong>the</strong> University<strong>in</strong> be<strong>in</strong>g based, so to speak, on All Souls College, with itsmagnificent Library and endowments. But <strong>the</strong> floruit of<strong>the</strong> Oxford Law School falls after our limit, and <strong>the</strong> newModern History School <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> proudest edifice of <strong>the</strong>'seventies, though its early pillars, so to speak, had beengrounded <strong>in</strong> Literae Humaniores, and were good scholarsbefore <strong>the</strong>y became great historians. William Stubbs<strong>was</strong> Regius Professor, and his Constitutional History of
232 R. W. MacanEngland issued from <strong>the</strong> Press dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies tobecome at once <strong>the</strong> bible of <strong>the</strong> Modern History School.Stubbs himself enjoyed a wide reputation, fortified by hisIntroductions and editions <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Rolls Series; and among<strong>the</strong> College teachers were several authors, already, or alittle later, em<strong>in</strong>ent of <strong>the</strong>ir k<strong>in</strong>d. Kitch<strong>in</strong>'s History ofFrance and Bright's History of England were published<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. Mandell Creighton, <strong>the</strong> future historianof <strong>the</strong> Popes, <strong>was</strong> lectur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>differently on Ancient andon Modern History, still as <strong>in</strong>nocent as his colleagues,Knox and Jayne and Talbot—all historians <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir day—and as <strong>the</strong>ir leader, Stubbs himself, of impend<strong>in</strong>g episcopaliantranslations. In 1874 out came J. R. Green'sever-green Short History: he no Don, yet <strong>the</strong> veriestOxonian of <strong>the</strong>m all! Among <strong>the</strong> founders of <strong>the</strong> OxfordHistorical School Charles Boase of Exeter and ArthurJohnson of All Souls, though not prolific authors, willlong be remembered with honour. Among <strong>the</strong>ir pupilswere <strong>the</strong> Armstrongs, <strong>the</strong> Smiths, <strong>the</strong> Pooles, <strong>the</strong> Marriotts,Pro<strong>the</strong>ros, Buckles, Lodges, Touts, Tipp<strong>in</strong>gs,Rounds, Fletchers, Reichels and o<strong>the</strong>rs, soon to be knownas men of learn<strong>in</strong>g and letters with<strong>in</strong> or beyond <strong>the</strong>Professorial radius. Nor can we forget <strong>the</strong> immediatepredecessors and successors of Stubbs <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Regius Chair:Goldw<strong>in</strong> Smith, one of <strong>the</strong> Secretaries of <strong>the</strong> first Commissionand still visible <strong>in</strong> Oxford about <strong>the</strong> beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>g ofour period, a master of terse nervous English, a paragonof <strong>the</strong> higher journalism, not <strong>in</strong>ferior even to GeorgeBrodrick; but a sad Radical withal, who found GreatBrita<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies too small to conta<strong>in</strong> Mr Disraeliand himself, and escaped to Toronto, <strong>in</strong> a va<strong>in</strong> hopeof convert<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Canadas to Little Englandism, andmerg<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> U.S.A. Stubbs' immediate successor,Edward Freeman, <strong>was</strong> publish<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies hisimmense history of <strong>the</strong> Norman Conquest, and two series
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 233of Historical Essays, which some have preferred to hislarger lucubrations. The next of <strong>the</strong> Diadochi, AnthonyFroude, had f<strong>in</strong>ished his long excursion on <strong>the</strong> high seasof Tudor history, and <strong>was</strong> collect<strong>in</strong>g his Short Studies onGreat Subjects; among whose del<strong>in</strong>quencies a too easyliterary style <strong>was</strong>, perhaps, <strong>in</strong>cluded, as it certa<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>was</strong>not eclipsed, by his predecessor. And this brilliantsuccession may end for us with York Powell and SirCharles Firth, both remarkable <strong>in</strong> this connection as pureproducts of <strong>the</strong> Oxford School, as it <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies.Powell, <strong>in</strong>deed, bore witness to <strong>the</strong> unregenerate system,for, on tak<strong>in</strong>g his degree, he started as a Law Lecturer at'The House', devot<strong>in</strong>g his leisure to <strong>the</strong> jo<strong>in</strong>t-productionwith Gustav Vigfusson, of <strong>the</strong> Corpus Poeticum Boreale(2 vols. 1883: now out of pr<strong>in</strong>t); and keep<strong>in</strong>g his friendsmeanwhile well <strong>in</strong>formed about French literature andJapanese art, before he settled down to <strong>in</strong>augurate, with<strong>in</strong>f<strong>in</strong>ite labour, an Historical Series, of which he <strong>was</strong>editor, with a little volume, a school-book but a pageant<strong>in</strong> its way—The History of England to <strong>the</strong> death of HenryVII. Surely never a man of such supreme literary culturewrote with more reluctance than did he! Doubtless <strong>the</strong>Modern History School has by this time left <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesfar beh<strong>in</strong>d. The most popular and by no means <strong>the</strong> leastscientific of <strong>the</strong> Faculties, it has been adorned by a successionof sound and even brilliant teachers and writers:but its foundations were well and truly laid <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies, to which (I presume) it should look back withpride, as it doubtless may look forward with confidenceto every fresh crisis: die Weltgeschichte ist das Weltgericht!VIII. THEOLOGY AT OXFORD IN THE'SEVENTIESThe case of Theology <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> much lesscheerful. The Faculty <strong>was</strong> still, as <strong>the</strong> whole University
234 R. W. Macanhad been until 1854, strictly Anglican. But after <strong>the</strong>Universities Tests Act 1871, still more after <strong>the</strong> OxfordCommission of 1877, to ma<strong>in</strong>ta<strong>in</strong> a strictly AnglicanFaculty of Theology, <strong>in</strong> a University open without confessionaltests to all comers, promised to be an <strong>in</strong>creas<strong>in</strong>glydifficult proposition. The party <strong>in</strong> possession<strong>was</strong> not go<strong>in</strong>g to surrender at discretion, but <strong>was</strong> determ<strong>in</strong>edto hold on as long as possible to privilege andendowment. They were, however, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> melancholyposition of fight<strong>in</strong>g a los<strong>in</strong>g campaign, even if victoriousfrom time to time <strong>in</strong> a rear-guard action. Thus, when <strong>the</strong>Honours School of Theology <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>stituted <strong>in</strong> 1869, althoughno confessional test <strong>was</strong> imposed on teachers muchless on candidates <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> School, only Oxford priests of<strong>the</strong> Church of England could be appo<strong>in</strong>ted to exam<strong>in</strong>e.This anomaly <strong>was</strong> emphasised by <strong>the</strong> fact that exam<strong>in</strong>ations<strong>in</strong> Div<strong>in</strong>ity, obligatory on all members of <strong>the</strong>University (subject to a conscience-clause), were conductedby <strong>the</strong> ord<strong>in</strong>ary Public Exam<strong>in</strong>ers, whose <strong>the</strong>ologicalcreed and competence were taken on trust. OurChurch had some more legitimate advantages secured toher <strong>in</strong> Oxford dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies by <strong>the</strong> 'New Foundation' of Keble and <strong>the</strong> re-endowment of Hertford College,both <strong>in</strong>stitutions be<strong>in</strong>g protected from <strong>the</strong> secular armof <strong>the</strong> Commission of 1877 by <strong>the</strong> fifty <strong>year</strong>s' limit provided<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Act; nor has anyone been heard to murmur,even when <strong>the</strong>y were fur<strong>the</strong>r secured under <strong>the</strong> Universitiesof Oxford and Cambridge Act, 1923, by <strong>the</strong> substitutionof sixty <strong>year</strong>s for fifty <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> clause protect<strong>in</strong>gtrusts of recent foundation. But just half-a-century before<strong>the</strong> latter Act a former Professor of Poetry, <strong>in</strong> 'anEssay towards a better apprehension of <strong>the</strong> Bible', hadbeen try<strong>in</strong>g to persuade us that Literature and Dogmawere <strong>in</strong>compatibles; and <strong>the</strong> Vatican Decrees of 1871,with <strong>the</strong>ir reductio ad absurdum of ecclesiastical authority,
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 235had brought some at least among us to see that, whileMr Gladstone's fulm<strong>in</strong>ations on <strong>the</strong> civil and politicalaspects of Vaticanism might leave us comparatively cold,<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong>, on Church pr<strong>in</strong>ciples, no logical alternativebetween Papal <strong>in</strong>fallibility and freedom of thought: andto hope that Anglican loyalties might prove to be reconcilablewith philosophic autonomy. But <strong>the</strong> leaders of <strong>the</strong>Church party <strong>in</strong> Oxford at that time were not prepared toagree with <strong>the</strong> apostle of culture, while <strong>the</strong>y were <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>way with him; much less with <strong>the</strong> champions of science,whose First Pr<strong>in</strong>ciples were certa<strong>in</strong>ly still <strong>in</strong> a ra<strong>the</strong>ragnostic, not to say unspiritual, stage of development.But <strong>the</strong> leaders were by that time hardly abreast of<strong>the</strong>ir followers <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University regard<strong>in</strong>g ei<strong>the</strong>r Apologeticsor Academic policy. Younger men, dest<strong>in</strong>ed tosucceed <strong>the</strong>m, soon showed <strong>the</strong>mselves will<strong>in</strong>g to acceptloyally <strong>the</strong> fait accompli <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> abolition of tests, to admit<strong>the</strong> Higher Criticism at least as applied to <strong>the</strong> Old Testament,and to promote <strong>the</strong> cause of Natural Science, withoutundue nervousness, fortified as some of <strong>the</strong>m wereby <strong>the</strong> Idealist philosophy, which Green <strong>was</strong> br<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong>ghome to Oxford to supersede <strong>the</strong> scepticism of <strong>the</strong> earlierTractarians, and to replace <strong>the</strong> sensationalism of Mill andBa<strong>in</strong>, So it came about that no department of study andteach<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University suffered a more completechange of method and spirit than became apparent <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Theological Faculty after <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. That Nonconformists,on <strong>the</strong>ir free admission to <strong>the</strong> University should,sooner or later, be admitted to <strong>the</strong> Theological as to <strong>the</strong>o<strong>the</strong>r Faculties <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>evitable. What <strong>was</strong> really surpris<strong>in</strong>g<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> immense modification <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> teach<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong>Anglican Professors—<strong>the</strong> Drivers, Cheynes, Sandays,Hatches, Gores and o<strong>the</strong>rs. The celebrated volume ofessays entitled Lux Mundi (1889)—<strong>the</strong> first clear evidenceof <strong>the</strong> acceptance of Historical Criticism and philosophic
236 R. W. Macanidealism by <strong>the</strong> younger school of Oxford High Churchmen—datedfrom Pusey House with<strong>in</strong> eight <strong>year</strong>s ofDr Pusey's death and published while Dr Liddon <strong>was</strong>still with us—<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> work of men who had been <strong>in</strong> statupupillari dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. One of <strong>the</strong>m, HenryScott Holland, when he succeeded longo <strong>in</strong>tervallo toMozley's Chair, <strong>in</strong>itiated a thorough-go<strong>in</strong>g proposal tocancel even <strong>the</strong> profession of a Christian faith for <strong>the</strong>Degrees <strong>in</strong> Div<strong>in</strong>ity: a project, which went beyond <strong>the</strong>practical requirements and <strong>the</strong> conscience of <strong>the</strong> times,but made it easier, perhaps, for his successor to effect <strong>the</strong>liberal compromise now <strong>in</strong> be<strong>in</strong>g. But to return to <strong>the</strong>'seventies: <strong>in</strong> that actual decade it <strong>was</strong> apparently leftfor laymen to foreshadow <strong>the</strong> com<strong>in</strong>g 'liberty of prophesy<strong>in</strong>g'.Max Miiller's Hibbert Lectures <strong>in</strong> 1877, andstill more <strong>the</strong> great series of The Sacred Books of <strong>the</strong>East, which he <strong>in</strong>augurated two <strong>year</strong>s later with histranslation of <strong>the</strong> Veda, encouraged <strong>the</strong> employment ofscientific method <strong>in</strong> a department of Theology, which hasbeen ra<strong>the</strong>r unhappily entitled 'Comparative Religion',but certa<strong>in</strong>ly exhibits a tendency to weaken <strong>the</strong> appealto authoritative Dogmatics. About <strong>the</strong> same date anessay on <strong>the</strong> Resurrection, also published by <strong>the</strong> HibbertTrust, and written, as I am, perhaps, more especiallybound to add, by a young Student and Tutor of ChristChurch, which adopted and developed <strong>the</strong> Visionaryhypo<strong>the</strong>sis <strong>in</strong> explanation of <strong>the</strong> Christophanies recorded<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> New Testament, had a ra<strong>the</strong>r chilly reception <strong>in</strong>Oxford; though someth<strong>in</strong>g not very unlike that rationaleof <strong>the</strong> facts is now to be found <strong>in</strong> such bulwarks of <strong>the</strong>new Apologetic as Foundations (1912) and EssaysCatholic and Critical (1926)—works which leave <strong>the</strong><strong>the</strong>ological position of a Liddon or a Pusey, and even thatof Lux Mundi, far beh<strong>in</strong>d. These modern, not to sayModernist, Apologetics, could <strong>the</strong>y have been anticipated
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 237by fifty or sixty <strong>year</strong>s, might have saved <strong>the</strong> RobertElsmeres of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies from a deal of worry and misgiv<strong>in</strong>g;for <strong>the</strong> hero of Mrs Humphry Ward's first novelmust be regarded as a type, reflect<strong>in</strong>g one side of Oxfordlife and letters <strong>in</strong> that decade. Is <strong>the</strong> book not, <strong>in</strong>deed,notoriously a roman~d-clef, with some of those named <strong>in</strong>this chapter among <strong>the</strong> dramatis personae; though no onehas succeeded <strong>in</strong> identify<strong>in</strong>g Mrs Ward's eponymous herowith any <strong>in</strong>dividual Oxonian. He <strong>was</strong>, presumably, acomposite photograph.IX. SOCIAL ASPECTS: YOUNGER DONSAno<strong>the</strong>r vision of Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies is opened upby <strong>the</strong> same writer's Recollections (1918), dedicated to herhusband ' <strong>in</strong> memory of April 6th, 1872', and giv<strong>in</strong>g a delightfulaccount of <strong>the</strong> simple life and social <strong>in</strong>tercourse<strong>in</strong> vogue with <strong>the</strong> young married couples <strong>in</strong> ' The Parks':startl<strong>in</strong>g novelties just made possible dur<strong>in</strong>g that decade,by <strong>the</strong> removal of <strong>the</strong> celibate restriction upon Fellowships.No more attractive report on Oxford's domesticrenaissance has anywhere been preserved; to attempt aduplication of it here could result only <strong>in</strong> a plagiarism ora fiasco. Yet I would venture to supplement it by onepersonal rem<strong>in</strong>iscence of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>formal enterta<strong>in</strong>ments atFyfield House, on Friday even<strong>in</strong>gs <strong>in</strong> term, to which agroup of young Dons had stand<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>vitations. If onewere not com<strong>in</strong>g on any given occasion, one <strong>was</strong> expectedto let <strong>the</strong> lady of <strong>the</strong> house know <strong>in</strong> good time. If youwere busy, or had pupils of a night, you were permittedto slip away early without offence. What gay and sometimesserious talk we had! What amiable differences!What cordial sympathies! What <strong>in</strong>nocent ambitions,what sangu<strong>in</strong>e expectations, for ourselves, for Oxford,for mank<strong>in</strong>d, over <strong>the</strong> simple meal, and round <strong>the</strong> brightfire! Our hosts were Mr and Mrs Arthur Acland, she <strong>the</strong>
238 R. W. Macansole woman present, and <strong>in</strong> her beauty and her brightness<strong>the</strong> jewel <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> golden r<strong>in</strong>g: he, a quondam Tutor ofKeble College, about to reorganise <strong>the</strong> commissariat atChrist Church and at Balliol, and to give <strong>the</strong> UniversityExtension a good start, before be<strong>in</strong>g rapt away <strong>in</strong>topolitics, and lifted out of our reach <strong>in</strong>to Mr Gladstone's<strong>Home</strong> Rule Cab<strong>in</strong>et as M<strong>in</strong>ister of Education (1892).Among <strong>the</strong> constant Stammgaste shall be named CharlesHeberden, our chief musician (afterwards Pr<strong>in</strong>cipal ofB.N.C.); Warde Fowler, <strong>the</strong> votary of Mozart, <strong>the</strong> loverof birds, writ<strong>in</strong>g essays with a felicity of style not <strong>in</strong>feriorto Elia: Nathan Bod<strong>in</strong>gton, who <strong>was</strong> to quit Oxford forBirm<strong>in</strong>gham, and by and by to transform <strong>the</strong> YorkshireCollege of Science <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> University of Leeds: LewisNettleship, our ideal philosophe, who never said a foolishth<strong>in</strong>g himself but had a sudden smile for <strong>the</strong> timelyfollies of o<strong>the</strong>rs: Frank Peters, a Balliol scholar at <strong>the</strong>age of sixteen, and <strong>the</strong>n busy, as a Fellow of University,translat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Nicomachean Ethics <strong>in</strong>to <strong>in</strong>telligibleEnglish: Paul Willert, <strong>the</strong> beau ideal of <strong>the</strong> 'Eton andOxford' type, gently tolerant of more boisterous ancients<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> company: Andrew Bradley, <strong>in</strong> whom his friendsalready <strong>the</strong>n foresaw <strong>the</strong> master of literary criticism,which he has s<strong>in</strong>ce proved himself to be. Was it <strong>in</strong>deedto any such address that <strong>the</strong> Master of Balliol could havedirected his scath<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>dictment of <strong>the</strong> young Dons of <strong>the</strong>period?They want to marry and <strong>the</strong>y have no money. They want to write,and have no orig<strong>in</strong>ality. They want to be scholars, and have no<strong>in</strong>dustry. They want to be f<strong>in</strong>e gentlemen, and are deficient <strong>in</strong>manners. When <strong>the</strong>y have families, <strong>the</strong>y will be at <strong>the</strong>ir wits' endto know how to provide for <strong>the</strong>m. Many of <strong>the</strong>m have <strong>the</strong> fretfillnessof parvenus, and will always have this unfortunate temper ofm<strong>in</strong>d.Were we really like that <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Master's eyes? Ah,me! In perpetuom, fratres, avete atque valete. The few
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 239survivors are older now, if not wiser, than <strong>the</strong> Master<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n.X. UNDERGRADUATE TYPESWell, well! However young Dons <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies mayhave looked to imperfectly Socratic eyes, what should beremembered of <strong>the</strong> Ephebi, <strong>the</strong> pass<strong>in</strong>g undergraduates?They were not always on <strong>the</strong>ir best behaviour! Thus <strong>the</strong>Encaenia of 1872 suffered an ignom<strong>in</strong>ious closure, when<strong>the</strong> Vice-Chancellor (Dr Liddell) abruptly quitted <strong>the</strong>Sheldonian Theatre, <strong>in</strong> consequence of <strong>the</strong> turbulence of<strong>the</strong> Olympians. But a prophylactic for such excesses <strong>was</strong>found by <strong>in</strong>troduc<strong>in</strong>g a bevy of sisters and cous<strong>in</strong>s to sitwith <strong>the</strong> undergraduates aloft, while mo<strong>the</strong>rs and auntswere left to <strong>the</strong> dignity of <strong>the</strong> Ladies' Circle below. Theyouths of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies were of many sorts and conditions,on <strong>the</strong>ir ways to <strong>the</strong> Bar, <strong>the</strong> Services, <strong>the</strong> Schools, <strong>the</strong>Churches, <strong>the</strong> new open<strong>in</strong>gs for academic life throughout<strong>the</strong> country, and some to be men of letters, and some tobe men of bus<strong>in</strong>ess and affairs, with a dw<strong>in</strong>dl<strong>in</strong>g residuumof idle rich and idle poor. If <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> decadeof Oscar Wilde (1874-8) <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> also <strong>the</strong>decade of Cecil Rhodes (1874-81). Wilde <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>deedtypical of one phase, or craze, of <strong>the</strong> moment. WalterPater's Studies <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> History of <strong>the</strong> Renaissance (1873)—a contribution not to historical science but to aes<strong>the</strong>ticcriticism—had unwitt<strong>in</strong>gly set young Oxford, or a partof young Oxford, burn<strong>in</strong>g 'with a hard gem-like flame',and try<strong>in</strong>g to undo its 'formed habits'—often very goodhabits formed at <strong>the</strong> Public Schools. But <strong>the</strong> Arts hado<strong>the</strong>r votaries. John Rusk<strong>in</strong> had come back to Oxford,as first Slade Professor, with a more dist<strong>in</strong>ctly ethicalmessage; and on Tuesday, <strong>the</strong> 8th of February, 1870, <strong>the</strong>Large Lecture Room at <strong>the</strong> New Museum <strong>was</strong> not largeenough to conta<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> huge crowd which assembled to
240 R. W. Macanhear his Inaugural Lecture, and <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>trepid Professorboldly adjourned to <strong>the</strong> Sheldonian Theatre—perhaps <strong>the</strong>Vice-Chancellor and Proctors were present and gaveleave—followed by his multitud<strong>in</strong>ous audience, re<strong>in</strong>forcedwith casual recruits enlisted en route, to deliverhis eloquent prelection concern<strong>in</strong>g 'Art and Religion'.Rusk<strong>in</strong> rema<strong>in</strong>ed <strong>in</strong> fashion throughout <strong>the</strong> decade, withrooms <strong>in</strong> Corpus, and even persuaded a loyal band of hisfollowers to take <strong>the</strong>ir afternoon exercise <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> guise ofnavvies at <strong>the</strong> honest toil of road-mak<strong>in</strong>g to FerryH<strong>in</strong>ksey, till <strong>the</strong> river foiled <strong>the</strong>m, or <strong>the</strong>ir ardourscooled. Arnold Toynbee, whom Jowett attached toBalliol <strong>in</strong> 1875, started ano<strong>the</strong>r movement, which has notyet run its course, l<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> University teacher andstudent with <strong>the</strong> artisan and <strong>the</strong> labour-world, but all toosoon gave his own fragile life away, <strong>in</strong> an effort to expose<strong>the</strong> fallacies of Henry George to <strong>the</strong> British work<strong>in</strong>g-man(1883). The champions of women's education and franchiselaid siege to Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, and before <strong>the</strong>decade <strong>was</strong> out had established two strongholds ofpotential undergraduettes with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> gates, Somervilleand Lady Margaret Halls. The Extension movement <strong>was</strong><strong>born</strong>, or copied from Cambridge, and University extensionand <strong>in</strong>tension went forward, if not hand <strong>in</strong> hand, atleast concomitantly. Oxford set to work, as already <strong>in</strong>dicatedabove, to rebuild and to enlarge itself. Thenumbers of <strong>the</strong> University were on <strong>the</strong> rise. Matriculations,which had sunk <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'fifties below 400 <strong>year</strong>ly,almost doubled that figure before <strong>the</strong> 'seventies passed(though that may seem few enough, <strong>in</strong> view of presentdayfigures). Increase of <strong>the</strong> Schools, improvements <strong>in</strong>teach<strong>in</strong>g, due <strong>in</strong> part to grow<strong>in</strong>g comb<strong>in</strong>ation betweenColleges for lectur<strong>in</strong>g purposes, additional Professorships,all tended to multiply <strong>the</strong> number of studentsread<strong>in</strong>g for Honours, and to dim<strong>in</strong>ish <strong>the</strong> contrast
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 241between University and College, Professorial and Tutorialstandards. Nor did athletics and <strong>the</strong> lighter elements <strong>in</strong>life suffer. The 'sixties had been a 'record' for Oxford on<strong>the</strong> river: <strong>the</strong> 'seventies are memorable for a uniqueevent, <strong>the</strong> dead-heat with Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Boat-race of1877. The flannelled experts got <strong>the</strong>ir Cricket-ground andPavilion <strong>in</strong> The Parks (1879), and <strong>the</strong> five or six varietiesof football, previously <strong>in</strong> vogue, settled down, like Oxfordphilosophy, to a ' hopeless dualism' between Rugby andAssociation, or <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> local slang, Rugger and Soccer.The game of Hockey, too, began to attract attention; andeven Golf, like a shy daisy, raised its head from <strong>the</strong>Cowley sod, under <strong>the</strong> genial husbandry of HoratioHutch<strong>in</strong>son of Corpus and Patrick Henderson of Wadham.Music <strong>was</strong> on <strong>the</strong> make <strong>in</strong> Oxford dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>'seventies. The Musical Club, founded by <strong>the</strong> Donk<strong>in</strong>sand Charles Lloyd, <strong>was</strong> well under way, and <strong>the</strong> MusicalUnion <strong>was</strong> soon to follow. The mutual education, admirationand criticism of undergraduates had fewer organsthan to-day; but <strong>the</strong>re were literary, social, and politicalclubs and coteries <strong>in</strong> existence: above all, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>Union Society, where <strong>the</strong> present Library—for <strong>the</strong> newDebat<strong>in</strong>g Hall <strong>was</strong> not yet <strong>in</strong> be<strong>in</strong>g—resounded onThursday nights to <strong>the</strong> adolescent efforts of <strong>the</strong> Asquiths,Brodricks, Curzons, Hortons, Milners and o<strong>the</strong>r on-com<strong>in</strong>gpoliticians and div<strong>in</strong>es, to appraise <strong>the</strong> public problemsof <strong>the</strong> day. Strange, how much more successful <strong>the</strong>political than <strong>the</strong> literary debate! The character ofMr Disraeli, <strong>the</strong> conduct of Mr Gladstone, provoked <strong>the</strong>strongest language, and <strong>the</strong> largest division: <strong>the</strong> GameLaws or <strong>Home</strong> Rule <strong>was</strong> sure of a lively discussion: but<strong>the</strong> question, whe<strong>the</strong>r Mr Tennyson or Mr Brown<strong>in</strong>g were<strong>the</strong> greater poet, found <strong>the</strong> House liable to be countedout. So much easier is it to be a successful party politicianthan to be a sound literary critic! Yet one motion of aB 16
242 R. W. Macanslightly later date (1881), reflect<strong>in</strong>g upon <strong>the</strong> Oxford of<strong>the</strong> 'seventies, may here be recorded, ipsissimis verbis:'That this House approves <strong>the</strong> efforts be<strong>in</strong>g made tobr<strong>in</strong>g Art and Literature with<strong>in</strong> reach of <strong>the</strong> masses ofEnglishmen, but condemns <strong>the</strong> ridiculous class known asaes<strong>the</strong>tes'—a resolution triumphantly affirmed by 83 to54 votes, which <strong>in</strong> those days would have been a goodlydivision even on a burn<strong>in</strong>g political question. The majority<strong>in</strong> statu pupillari had no doubts on <strong>the</strong> subject of Bunthorne'svirtue! But it <strong>was</strong> far from be<strong>in</strong>g puritanical.The New Theatre had not yet superseded <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>sanitiesof <strong>the</strong> old ' Vic.', and a motion <strong>in</strong> favour of establish<strong>in</strong>ga permanent home <strong>in</strong> Oxford for ' <strong>the</strong> Drama', <strong>was</strong> alwayssure of approval. Not that <strong>the</strong>atrical performances (moreor less sub rosa) were quite unknown, even before <strong>the</strong>celebrated representation of <strong>the</strong> Agamemnon of Aeschylus<strong>in</strong> Balliol Hall (1880, with F. R. Benson as Clytaemnestra,W. Bruce <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> title-r61e, and W. L. Courtney as Watchor Sent<strong>in</strong>el), which paved <strong>the</strong> way for <strong>the</strong> establishmentof <strong>the</strong> O.U.D.S. founded by Adderley and Bourchier ofChrist Church with Jowett's Vice-cancellarian bless<strong>in</strong>g<strong>in</strong> 1883.Oxford of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies may look mild and modest andmid-Victorian beside <strong>the</strong> Oxford of to-day, but it <strong>was</strong>alive and mov<strong>in</strong>g: still a ra<strong>the</strong>r shy and cloistered creature(specially o' Sundays), but shedd<strong>in</strong>g its prejudices apace,not to say compromis<strong>in</strong>g its pr<strong>in</strong>ciples. And that afterall <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> Oxford which captivated <strong>the</strong> imag<strong>in</strong>ation ofCecil Rhodes, an exemplary Pass-man of <strong>the</strong> period, withan enthusiasm to <strong>the</strong> end for Aristotle and Gibbon (both,by our creed, Oxford men!). But for Oxford Rhodesmight never have founded Rhodesia; and but for Rhodesiahe could never have founded <strong>the</strong> trust, which hasmade Oxford more than ever a pan-Britannic University,Yes! If <strong>the</strong> 'seventies came <strong>in</strong> ra<strong>the</strong>r sheepishly, <strong>the</strong>y
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 243went out like a lion. The Commission of 1877 had, so tospeak, fired a torch, which waxed and brightened till <strong>the</strong>catastrophe of 1914 emptied Oxford of her best blood,and ext<strong>in</strong>guished life and letters <strong>in</strong> her groves and colleges,hand<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m over to <strong>the</strong> men of war <strong>in</strong> khaki and<strong>in</strong> blue. But a renaissance <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> store, and has been <strong>in</strong>evidence: though whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fant re<strong>born</strong> has strangled<strong>the</strong> snakes <strong>in</strong> his cradle, and made his choice betweenPleasure and Virtue, is not for <strong>the</strong> mere remembrancerof those old 'seventies to determ<strong>in</strong>e. Exorietur aliquis.Let some happier historian, fifty or sixty <strong>year</strong>s hence,review this decade's Commission and its results, whattime our 'seventies shall <strong>in</strong>deed have become but AncientHistory.XI. LIBRARIES: THE BODLEIANBut men of letters and Societies of Literature will stillrequire of me some report on those <strong>in</strong>stitutions <strong>in</strong> Oxfordwhich may be regarded as <strong>in</strong> a sense <strong>the</strong> chief patrons andparents of books; to wit, libraries and presses, or at least<strong>the</strong> Library and <strong>the</strong> Press, <strong>the</strong> goodliest appanages of <strong>the</strong>University. Where <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> wide world are more books andmanuscripts to <strong>the</strong> square mile than <strong>in</strong> Oxford? EveryCollege from Merton to Keble has its library, sometimeson a monumental scale. In <strong>the</strong> 'seventies freer access <strong>was</strong>be<strong>in</strong>g given to College libraries, or special libraries forundergraduates were be<strong>in</strong>g started: and <strong>the</strong>y had alibrary of <strong>the</strong>ir own at <strong>the</strong> Union not to be despised. TheUniversity possessed <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Taylor Institution an admirabletreasury of foreign literature, and at <strong>the</strong> Museuma Natural Science Library, transferred thi<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'sixties by <strong>the</strong> Radcliffe Trustees. Above and before allit had <strong>the</strong> Bodleian. The magnificence and longevity ofBodley reduce any given decade to a mere episode <strong>in</strong> itshistory. The 'seventies comprised <strong>the</strong> second and less16-2
244 R. W. Macanexcit<strong>in</strong>g moiety <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> reign of <strong>the</strong> Rev. H. O. Coxe asLibrarian, early famous for his crush<strong>in</strong>g repulse of <strong>the</strong>forger, Simonides (' I have here, Mr Coxe, a very ancientMS. which should certa<strong>in</strong>ly be <strong>in</strong> your Library: to whatcentury would you assign it?'—'To <strong>the</strong> latter half of<strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century, Mr Simonides'). Coxe may besaid to have <strong>in</strong>augurated, on his appo<strong>in</strong>tment <strong>in</strong> 1860,<strong>the</strong> modern age of expert adm<strong>in</strong>istration, s<strong>in</strong>ce carried tosuch high degrees of virtuosity. The chief events of hisreign fall <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> first decade, notably <strong>the</strong> loan of <strong>the</strong>Camera by <strong>the</strong> Radcliffe Trustees, and its adaptation to<strong>the</strong> use of <strong>the</strong> Library as a Read<strong>in</strong>g Room, available afterdark. The General Catalogue of Pr<strong>in</strong>ted Books, begun <strong>in</strong>1860, <strong>was</strong> completed <strong>in</strong> 1878, and is still <strong>in</strong> daily use. The<strong>year</strong> last specified <strong>was</strong> fur<strong>the</strong>r marked by <strong>the</strong> first AnnualMeet<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> Library Association, which <strong>was</strong> holden <strong>in</strong>Oxford under <strong>the</strong> presidency of Mr Coxe: before <strong>the</strong> closeof <strong>the</strong> decade <strong>the</strong> erection of <strong>the</strong> New Exam<strong>in</strong>ationSchools on <strong>the</strong> High Street set free <strong>the</strong> ground floor of <strong>the</strong>Old Schools <strong>in</strong> Bodley's Quadrangle for Library uses.There <strong>was</strong>, and is, a pleasant custom at <strong>the</strong> annualVisitation of <strong>the</strong> Library for a Student of Christ Churchto deliver a Lat<strong>in</strong> oration <strong>in</strong> praise of Bodley and <strong>in</strong>commemoration of Bodleian events of <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong>. Let mehere <strong>in</strong>sert three l<strong>in</strong>es from an old Diary. 'Thursday,8 Nov. 1877. At 12 I gave <strong>the</strong> Lat<strong>in</strong> speech <strong>in</strong> Bodley,before a small but select audience: The Dean (Liddell),<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> chair: Mark Pattison, Stubbs, Coxe, and one ortwo more present.' This exploit procured for me my onlypersonal <strong>in</strong>terview with Dr Pusey, who <strong>was</strong> at <strong>the</strong> timeact<strong>in</strong>g Treasurer. It still costs me a pang to rememberthat <strong>the</strong> gold bangle, with suitable <strong>in</strong>scription engraved,for which I exchanged his cheque, <strong>was</strong> raped by an unromanticburglar, some ten <strong>year</strong>s later: and though <strong>the</strong>poor devil went <strong>in</strong>to penal servitude, my (or ra<strong>the</strong>r, her)
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 245Bodley bangle <strong>was</strong> never retrieved. One o<strong>the</strong>r memorandummay appeal to o<strong>the</strong>rs as to me. On <strong>the</strong> 5th ofJuly, 1879, Ingram Bywater, M.A., Fellow of ExeterCollege, <strong>was</strong> appo<strong>in</strong>ted a Sub-Librarian <strong>in</strong> succession to<strong>the</strong> Rev. J. W. Nutt. But with<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong> Bywater retired,and resumed his full work <strong>in</strong> Exeter, where he hadfor <strong>year</strong>s been accumulat<strong>in</strong>g that store of choice editionsof <strong>the</strong> classics, which has now by his generous legacypassed <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> possession of Bodley. In those old days,were you a pupil of his, and had you soo<strong>the</strong>d him witha morsel of pretty good work, you might f<strong>in</strong>d yourselfrewarded by sight of his latest acquisition, and <strong>in</strong>itiated,with an ironical lisp, <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> secret of <strong>the</strong> three stagesof Bibliomania: first, care for <strong>the</strong> contents of <strong>the</strong> book;secondly, appreciation of paper, pr<strong>in</strong>t, and marg<strong>in</strong>;thirdly, <strong>the</strong> climax, pure love of lovely b<strong>in</strong>d<strong>in</strong>g!XII. THE PRESSTwo at least of <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g presses <strong>in</strong> Oxford dur<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> 'seventies may have satisfied Bywater <strong>in</strong> his mostcritical humour: <strong>the</strong> private press of his friend Daniel,and <strong>the</strong> University Press, whose proper title immortalisesits obligation to Clarendon's History. The Rev. C. H. O.Daniel, Fellow, Bursar, and f<strong>in</strong>ally Provost of WorcesterCollege, might almost be described as a <strong>born</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ter. At<strong>the</strong> age of n<strong>in</strong>e <strong>year</strong>s (<strong>in</strong> 1845) he worked a hand press athome <strong>in</strong> Frome, with his bro<strong>the</strong>rs, and produced, <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>course of some eighteen <strong>year</strong>s, eleven small books, andhundreds of labels and notices. He resumed his hobby<strong>in</strong> Oxford, dur<strong>in</strong>g our decade; and though <strong>the</strong> majorityof his productions are dated after its limit, he pr<strong>in</strong>tedNotes from a Catalogue of Pamphlets <strong>in</strong> Worcester CollegeLibrary <strong>in</strong> 1874, and two <strong>year</strong>s later A New Sermon of <strong>the</strong>Newest Sort 1642-3, from a manuscript. With his ErasmiColloquia duo <strong>in</strong> 1880 and The Garland of Rachel, twelve
246 R. W. Macanmonths later, he <strong>in</strong>augurated a succession of da<strong>in</strong>tyvolumes, chiefly conta<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g poems by his friends (Bridges,Dixon, Gosse, Sir Herbert Warren, Mrs Woods and o<strong>the</strong>rs)dest<strong>in</strong>ed to be <strong>the</strong> despair of impecunious bibliophiles.Mr Falconer Madan, Bodley's Librarian emeritus, ourgreatest authority on books pr<strong>in</strong>ted <strong>in</strong> Oxford, to whomI owe many of <strong>the</strong>se details, describes <strong>the</strong> DanieJ pressas 'a pioneer of <strong>the</strong> Victorian renaissance of Englishpr<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g'. Happy those, who possess one or more of<strong>the</strong>se amateur bibelots, pr<strong>in</strong>ted not for lucre but for love;thrice happy, who possess a complete set of Our Memories,one of Daniel's latest productions, where<strong>in</strong> form andsubstance are alike <strong>the</strong> pr<strong>in</strong>ter's own.For <strong>the</strong> University Press <strong>the</strong> 'seventies <strong>was</strong> a time ofgrow<strong>in</strong>g prosperity under <strong>the</strong> capable handl<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong>Secretary, <strong>the</strong> Rev. Bartholomew Price, Sedleian Professorof Natural Philosophy, afterwards Master ofPembroke, and so a Canon of Gloucester. For thirty<strong>year</strong>s, from 1868, he <strong>was</strong> life and soul of <strong>the</strong> ClarendonPress. He purchased for <strong>the</strong> Delegates <strong>the</strong> WolvercotePaper Mill <strong>in</strong> 1870. His f<strong>in</strong>ancial ability <strong>was</strong> fur<strong>the</strong>rdemonstrated by his success <strong>in</strong> buy<strong>in</strong>g out <strong>the</strong> partners<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> bus<strong>in</strong>ess (of whom Mr Combe <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> last), who,s<strong>in</strong>ce <strong>the</strong> great Dr Fell's time, had shared <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> policy,and <strong>the</strong> profits, of <strong>the</strong> undertak<strong>in</strong>g. Under Price'smanagement <strong>the</strong> whole became aga<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> sole propertyof <strong>the</strong> University, and for <strong>year</strong>s contributed a substantialsum to <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>come of <strong>the</strong> Chest. The Clarendon PressSeries, a large selection of works chiefly of educational<strong>in</strong>terest, <strong>in</strong> twelve separate sections, <strong>was</strong> begun <strong>in</strong> 1867,and cont<strong>in</strong>ued throughout our decade. In 1879 <strong>the</strong> NewEnglish Dictionary <strong>was</strong> undertaken by <strong>the</strong> Press, <strong>the</strong>greatest of those 'lexicographical enterprises, which wereOxford's chief contribution to learn<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> latter halfof <strong>the</strong> n<strong>in</strong>eteenth century'. The production of <strong>the</strong> Caxton
Oxford <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 247Memorial Bible, pr<strong>in</strong>ted, bound, and exhibited on oneday, <strong>the</strong> 30th of June, 1877, <strong>was</strong> described by Mr Gladstone,who opened <strong>the</strong> Caxton Exhibition on that sameday, at 2 p.m., as 'a feat which might be called <strong>the</strong>climax and consummation of pr<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g'. There <strong>was</strong>certa<strong>in</strong>ly a sport<strong>in</strong>g element, <strong>the</strong> ambition for a 'record',<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> achievement. One perennial publication of <strong>the</strong>Press orig<strong>in</strong>ated with <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, that jejune yet <strong>in</strong>dispensable'weekly', which evoked from <strong>the</strong> Lyrafrivola of A. D. Godley, sometime Public Orator, <strong>the</strong> immortall<strong>in</strong>es addressed To an old Friend, and conclud<strong>in</strong>gas follows:Place me somewhere that is far from <strong>the</strong> Standard and <strong>the</strong> Star,From <strong>the</strong> fever and <strong>the</strong> literary fret,—And <strong>the</strong> harassed spirit's balm be <strong>the</strong> academic calmOf The Oxford University Gazette!It <strong>was</strong> like <strong>the</strong> new Secretary to substitute for <strong>the</strong> endlessfly<strong>in</strong>g notices of University engagements and affairs thispunctual, accurate, compact, well-pr<strong>in</strong>ted hebdomadalfolio! Mr Price <strong>was</strong>, <strong>in</strong>deed, one of <strong>the</strong> big six (or so) <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> Oxford of those days. Council, Chest, Press all found<strong>in</strong> him <strong>the</strong>ir courage and <strong>the</strong>ir security. A few pla<strong>in</strong>words from him settled many a debate or division <strong>in</strong>Congregation. He <strong>was</strong> an authority. The trust reposed<strong>in</strong> him, even by young men, <strong>was</strong> immense. He <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>his prime dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. Years after, at <strong>the</strong> ageof eighty, he retired from his University offices, and hisfriends, to manifest <strong>the</strong>ir appreciation of his characterand services, enterta<strong>in</strong>ed him at a well-attendedd<strong>in</strong>ner <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Hall of <strong>the</strong> Queen's College, of whichhe <strong>was</strong> an Honorary Fellow, President Magrath presid<strong>in</strong>g.The Master of Pembroke <strong>was</strong> no orator; he hadeven a slight impediment <strong>in</strong> his speech; and he nevertaxed <strong>the</strong> patience, or <strong>the</strong> emotions, of his audience. Butcould any who heard him on that occasion ever forget
248 R. W, Macan<strong>the</strong> three po<strong>in</strong>ts which he made—so simply, with suchobvious s<strong>in</strong>cerity—<strong>in</strong> reply<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> toast of his health?You have praised me (he said <strong>in</strong> effect) for <strong>the</strong> successesof my pupils: I can assure you that I have learnt farmore from <strong>the</strong>m than I taught <strong>the</strong>m (and he gave someparticulars). You have thanked me for what I have beenenabled to do for <strong>the</strong> University: I must confess that Icould have done very little, but for <strong>the</strong> advice of colleaguesand friends <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University (and he mentionedsome by name). 'And now (he said <strong>in</strong> conclusion) I aman old man, and my course is well-nigh run: but I amcontent to lay down my burden; for I am conv<strong>in</strong>ced that<strong>the</strong>re are many younger men <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> University will<strong>in</strong>gto serve it, and as capable as any who have ever beenhere; and that we may all look forward with hope andconfidence to <strong>the</strong> future of <strong>the</strong> Oxford we love.'With <strong>the</strong>se or such words he ended. And now we toowill leave it at that.
§11Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'SeventiesBy W. E. HEITLANDLOOKING back on Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies of lastcentury I f<strong>in</strong>d myself <strong>in</strong> face of two disquiet<strong>in</strong>g thoughts—first, that <strong>the</strong>re are now few able to confirm or correctanyth<strong>in</strong>g I may say on <strong>the</strong> subject; secondly, that mymemories, vivid on certa<strong>in</strong> po<strong>in</strong>ts, are <strong>in</strong>evitably blurredon o<strong>the</strong>r details not less significant. I began <strong>the</strong> 'seventiesas an undergraduate. After graduat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> 1871 and becom<strong>in</strong>ga Fellow of St John's College <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> same <strong>year</strong>,I <strong>was</strong> engaged with private pupils <strong>in</strong> Term and LongVacation until I <strong>was</strong> appo<strong>in</strong>ted a College Lecturer at <strong>the</strong>end of 1872. Though deeply <strong>in</strong>terested <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Academicquestions and movements of that stirr<strong>in</strong>g time, I couldnot f<strong>in</strong>d leisure for tak<strong>in</strong>g part <strong>in</strong> many clubs or societiesformed for discussion of miscellaneous topics. Thereforeany knowledge of advanced views <strong>the</strong>n <strong>in</strong> vogue among<strong>in</strong>tellectual cliques reached me ma<strong>in</strong>ly through <strong>the</strong> conversationof friends. I have sometimes thought that <strong>in</strong>this way I heard enough. S<strong>in</strong>ce those days memoirs ofsome notable characters have appeared. In particular,much light is thrown upon <strong>the</strong> private history of <strong>the</strong>University Reform movement <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Memoir of HenrySidgwick. Leslie Stephen's Life of Henry Fawcett recounts<strong>the</strong> Parliamentary struggle over <strong>the</strong> necessarylegislation, and with opportune truth rem<strong>in</strong>ds us that aRadical <strong>in</strong> national politics could be <strong>in</strong>tensely conservative.at a College meet<strong>in</strong>g. So it <strong>was</strong>; I have heardLeonard Courtney scornfully compared to <strong>the</strong> Bourbons
250 W. E. Heitlandby a junior Fellow of St John's. Fawcett <strong>was</strong> not s<strong>in</strong>gular<strong>in</strong> this respect.The period of <strong>the</strong> 'seventies may be described as <strong>the</strong>time of fermentation <strong>in</strong> which <strong>the</strong> aspirations of reformerswere tak<strong>in</strong>g a clear and practical form. This meant that<strong>the</strong> attention of our resident members <strong>was</strong> concentratedon our <strong>in</strong>ternal problems to an unusual extent. It mayfairly be said that this decade <strong>was</strong> not specially remarkablefor literary productivity, whe<strong>the</strong>r serious or playful,<strong>in</strong> Cambridge itself. The work of Munro and W. H.Thompson, perhaps hardly 'literature' <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> vulgaracceptation, <strong>was</strong> of earlier date: so were <strong>the</strong> wit andhumour of Calverley and G. O. Trevelyan, and <strong>the</strong> Sa<strong>in</strong>tPaul of F. W. Myers had appeared <strong>in</strong> 1867. It should benoted that Cambridge <strong>was</strong> well represented outside,though ma<strong>in</strong>ly <strong>in</strong> Science. Still <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> PoetLaureate at <strong>the</strong> head; and among many o<strong>the</strong>rs <strong>the</strong>re wereSeeley, whose Ecce Homo appeared <strong>in</strong> 1865, and SamuelButler, who s<strong>in</strong>ce 1864 <strong>was</strong> back from New Zealand and<strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>cubat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> subtle ironies of Erewhon (1872) and<strong>the</strong> Fair Haven (1873). Our non-residents were meanwhileturn<strong>in</strong>g critical eyes on <strong>the</strong>ir old University. Barristers,Professors, Schoolmasters, Journalists and School-<strong>in</strong>spectorstook various po<strong>in</strong>ts of view. Leslie Stephen'sSketches from Cambridge by a Don (1865) <strong>was</strong> a vividdescription of Cambridge life with its fashions and foibles,repr<strong>in</strong>ted from a London paper. But most of this criticismdid not f<strong>in</strong>d its way <strong>in</strong>to pr<strong>in</strong>t; and yet <strong>was</strong> not whollywithout effect. A clique of Progressive Rugby masters,and a few of <strong>the</strong> same colour from o<strong>the</strong>r schools, wereactive allies of Sidgwick and o<strong>the</strong>r residents. To <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>ternal academic difficulties, ever real to <strong>the</strong> men on <strong>the</strong>spot, seemed trivial, and <strong>the</strong>y were sometimes out ofpatience with <strong>the</strong> slow advance of residents. A Rugbymaster, d<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> Hall and hear<strong>in</strong>g talk of some question
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 251of <strong>the</strong> hour, said, 'Oh, has that already got downhere?'But for those who were to play <strong>the</strong> part of residentreformers patience <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> first necessity. If new Statuteswith far-reach<strong>in</strong>g changes were to be <strong>the</strong>ir aim (andnoth<strong>in</strong>g less <strong>was</strong> of any use) <strong>the</strong>y had to wait on <strong>the</strong>convenience of statesmen. Meanwhile it <strong>was</strong> desirable bywrit<strong>in</strong>g and <strong>in</strong>tercourse to weaken <strong>the</strong> resident opposition.For <strong>the</strong> practical work<strong>in</strong>g of new Statutes would largelydepend on <strong>the</strong> state of op<strong>in</strong>ion prevalent among thosewho would have to work <strong>the</strong>m when passed. NowCambridge had not been asleep. Before 1870 new subjectshad been recognised <strong>in</strong> Triposes lead<strong>in</strong>g to HonourDegrees <strong>in</strong> Moral and Natural Sciences (1851), and someColleges had even provided Lecturers, St John's, Tr<strong>in</strong>ityand Caius <strong>in</strong> particular. The names of Venn, MichaelFoster, Henry Sidgwick, and Alfred Marshall, taken from<strong>the</strong> Calendar for 1873, will show that this new move <strong>was</strong>a real advance. The old Philist<strong>in</strong>e attitude—one ofShilleto's stray pieces spoke of 'this Natural rot, thisMoral bosh'—had lost some of its appeal <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> age ofDarw<strong>in</strong>.And <strong>the</strong> <strong>year</strong> 1869 witnessed some events dest<strong>in</strong>ed tobe of signal importance <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> time of struggles now athand. It <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>n that Sidgwick resigned his Tr<strong>in</strong>ityFellowship, refus<strong>in</strong>g to be bound any longer by <strong>the</strong> religiousTest; an act followed by his pamphlet on <strong>the</strong>Ethics of Conformity and Subscription <strong>in</strong> 1870. In 1869J. R, Seeley returned to Cambridge, and with him <strong>the</strong>movement for <strong>the</strong> establishment of a real History Schoolbegan <strong>in</strong> earnest. But <strong>in</strong> my judgment as important, ifwe look forward to <strong>the</strong> results achieved <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'eighties,<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> appo<strong>in</strong>tment of G. F. Browne as Secretary for<strong>the</strong> Local Exam<strong>in</strong>ations. This post offered open<strong>in</strong>gs forga<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>fluence <strong>in</strong> various ways. By tak<strong>in</strong>g over <strong>the</strong>
252 W. E. Heitlandadm<strong>in</strong>istration of <strong>the</strong> Local Lectures <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> same office(1873), and by unspar<strong>in</strong>g activity <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> despatch of o<strong>the</strong>rUniversity bus<strong>in</strong>ess, <strong>the</strong> new officer quietly atta<strong>in</strong>ed anunrivalled share <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> control of current affairs. Theeffect of this <strong>in</strong>dustry appeared as time went by. AsSecretary to <strong>the</strong> Commissioners of 1877 he <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> closetouch with <strong>the</strong> preparation of <strong>the</strong> 1882 Statutes. In <strong>the</strong>follow<strong>in</strong>g period his co-operation <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>dispensable to allengaged <strong>in</strong> University reconstruction. And <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> seasonof reaction aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> still exist<strong>in</strong>g forces of <strong>the</strong> oldclerical dom<strong>in</strong>ation it <strong>was</strong> perhaps a good th<strong>in</strong>g thatproceed<strong>in</strong>gs were watched by so competent an adviser on<strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> Church. Look<strong>in</strong>g back, I am amazed torecall how little <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> of bitter conflict <strong>in</strong> those daysof constant new developments. The moral force of Sidgwickcould work <strong>in</strong> harmony with <strong>the</strong> Div<strong>in</strong>es <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> daysof Lightfoot, Westcott and Hort. The endless claims of<strong>the</strong> Natural Sciences, pushed with relentless vigour andundeniably overdue, still left room for those of Historyand cognate studies. It is fair to credit this happy resultpartly to what Leslie Stephen calls <strong>the</strong> Cambridge' system vigorous if narrow', <strong>the</strong> sound tra<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g of which<strong>was</strong> 'favourable to a mascul<strong>in</strong>e but limited type ofunderstand<strong>in</strong>g'. But <strong>the</strong> men who saw it through, asagents of a great change, without arous<strong>in</strong>g violent stormsof ' mascul<strong>in</strong>e' prejudice, surely deserve no little praise.Enough has been said to show that even after <strong>the</strong>abolition of Religious Tests <strong>in</strong>ternal opposition to seriouschanges rema<strong>in</strong>ed strong <strong>in</strong> Cambridge. Private <strong>in</strong>terestshonestly created, and prepossessions generally s<strong>in</strong>cere,were alarmed by <strong>the</strong> now unmistakable <strong>in</strong>tentions ofParliament. Sulky acquiescence ra<strong>the</strong>r than hearty cooperation<strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong>refore <strong>the</strong> temper of a majority.Aga<strong>in</strong>st this <strong>the</strong> energy and self-sacrifice of <strong>the</strong> residentreformers carried on a long struggle, gradually ga<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 253ground as vacancies <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> course of nature or ecclesiasticalpreferment brought a younger generation on <strong>the</strong> stage.The spiritual light and lead<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> reformers <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong>carnated<strong>in</strong> Henry Sidgwick first and foremost. O<strong>the</strong>rssupported him ably, but it <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> him that <strong>the</strong> heroicand sa<strong>in</strong>tly element needed for <strong>in</strong>spir<strong>in</strong>g younger mennever, failed, an <strong>in</strong>fluence operat<strong>in</strong>g by example as wellas precept. His action <strong>in</strong> 1869—70 brought to a head <strong>the</strong>Tests question, settled <strong>in</strong> 1871. This matter, till <strong>the</strong>nshelved by Parliament, <strong>was</strong> caus<strong>in</strong>g some excitementamong undergraduates <strong>in</strong> my time. I remember be<strong>in</strong>genticed to a meet<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> a student's rooms and pressed tosign a form of protest aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong> repeal. I <strong>was</strong> told that,be<strong>in</strong>g a member of <strong>the</strong> Church of England and not preparedto secede from it, my pla<strong>in</strong> duty <strong>was</strong> to sign. I didnot. This illustrates <strong>the</strong> sort of th<strong>in</strong>g that <strong>was</strong> go<strong>in</strong>g on<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Colleges. The bigotry of some of our elders <strong>was</strong>rais<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> cry of ' Sacrilege' at any attempt to ' pervert'<strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>tentions of' Pious Founders', and quietly encourag<strong>in</strong>gus youngsters to bleat <strong>in</strong> unison with <strong>the</strong>ir protestations.It must be remembered that Dissenters and Jewshad for <strong>year</strong>s past been admitted as students, and someof <strong>the</strong>m had won great dist<strong>in</strong>ction <strong>in</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ations. But<strong>the</strong>y could only take <strong>the</strong> M.A. as a titular degree, notgiv<strong>in</strong>g membership of <strong>the</strong> Senate; and <strong>the</strong>y were shut outfrom Fellowships by <strong>the</strong> Test. It <strong>was</strong> notorious that <strong>the</strong>'religious' opposition to <strong>the</strong>ir claims simply amountedto a refusal to surrender <strong>the</strong> monopoly of emoluments andpower. In 1870 not a few undergraduates were beg<strong>in</strong>n<strong>in</strong>gto th<strong>in</strong>k for <strong>the</strong>mselves and to view such do<strong>in</strong>gs withcontempt.The narrow-m<strong>in</strong>ded attitude I have described <strong>was</strong> fully<strong>in</strong> evidence all through <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, though less andless openly displayed as <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>evitable drew near. Opportunepreferment now and <strong>the</strong>n th<strong>in</strong>ned <strong>the</strong> ranks of
254 W. E. Heitlandstalwarts. A good case is that of a grotesquely demonstrativecleric, who had been a Dissenter himself <strong>in</strong> hisyouth but had seen <strong>the</strong> error of his ways. In 1876 anattractive College liv<strong>in</strong>g fell vacant and <strong>in</strong>duced him toretire to parish duties. But such open<strong>in</strong>gs came slowly,and did not meet <strong>the</strong> case of men not <strong>in</strong> Orders. And <strong>the</strong>lay element <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> corporate bodies <strong>was</strong> steadily grow<strong>in</strong>g,and <strong>in</strong> it were both Nonconformists and so-called Freeth<strong>in</strong>kersof various shades. The old school of College Donshad succeeded <strong>in</strong> alienat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> sympathies of <strong>the</strong> ris<strong>in</strong>ggeneration, and <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no small danger that, whenReform began <strong>in</strong> earnest, extreme views might prevail.That this did not happen, <strong>was</strong> partly due to <strong>the</strong> sober<strong>in</strong>geffect of f<strong>in</strong>ancial <strong>in</strong>terests, and partly to <strong>the</strong> mistrustaroused by <strong>the</strong> visionary proposals of 'cranks'. It <strong>was</strong>most important that Cambridge should not feel consciousof cast<strong>in</strong>g away <strong>the</strong> heritage of prudent thoroughness <strong>in</strong>which she had been used to take an <strong>in</strong>nocent pride.If I am to give a reasonably fair sketch of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>fluencesat work <strong>in</strong> Cambridge dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, I must saysometh<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> young men who were <strong>the</strong>n grow<strong>in</strong>g up,dest<strong>in</strong>ed some of <strong>the</strong>m to bear lead<strong>in</strong>g parts <strong>in</strong> after <strong>year</strong>s.In a period of acute public controversies, when Press andPulpit resounded with <strong>the</strong> voices of attack and defence,<strong>the</strong>re were plenty of gifted youths eager to call mostreceived traditions <strong>in</strong> question. In <strong>the</strong> case of men moreor less isolated <strong>in</strong> small Colleges, where ' advanced' viewsfound little sympathy, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> not much open<strong>in</strong>g forsocial ga<strong>the</strong>r<strong>in</strong>gs and exchanges of op<strong>in</strong>ion. Some little<strong>in</strong>tercollegiate societies <strong>the</strong>re were <strong>in</strong> which memberscould let off <strong>the</strong>ir pet <strong>the</strong>ories <strong>in</strong> an atmosphere of coffeeand criticism. But I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong>se safety-valves were few.The effective centre for propound<strong>in</strong>g and test<strong>in</strong>g newideas <strong>was</strong> and cont<strong>in</strong>ued to be Tr<strong>in</strong>ity, where <strong>the</strong> size of<strong>the</strong> College and <strong>the</strong> presence just <strong>the</strong>n of an exceptionallybrilliant circle of talented youths made such co-operative
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 255bouts of th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g comparatively easy. This <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> timeof <strong>the</strong> Balfour bro<strong>the</strong>rs, F. W. Maitland, and o<strong>the</strong>rs of<strong>the</strong> first order. W. K. Clifford only left for a LondonProfessorship <strong>in</strong> 1871, and <strong>was</strong> still <strong>in</strong> touch with Cambridge.Most of <strong>the</strong>se died young, and strictly belong to<strong>the</strong> 'seventies. Beh<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong>se bright young figures stoodthat of Henry Sidgwick, a maturer seeker after truth,writ<strong>in</strong>g books on Ethics and already giv<strong>in</strong>g thought toMetaphysics, Political Economy, Political Science, andmany o<strong>the</strong>r subjects. The relations between him and <strong>the</strong>younger men were for various reasons 1 unusually close;and it <strong>was</strong> largely through <strong>the</strong> impression made by this<strong>in</strong>tellectual company that Cambridge began to lose someof its old self-satisfaction.Meanwhile thoughts and pens were not all engaged <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> warfare of serious controversy. If <strong>in</strong> light literature<strong>the</strong> output of <strong>the</strong> period hardly rivals that of its predecessor,when Calverley and G. 0. Trevelyan flourished,<strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no lack of shortlived 2 publications <strong>in</strong> whichyouthful enterprise found vent. Among <strong>the</strong>se I recall <strong>the</strong>armchair papers of <strong>the</strong> Cambridge Tatler <strong>in</strong> 1871-2, <strong>in</strong>which V. H. Stanton and A. J. Mason were concerned,but I th<strong>in</strong>k <strong>the</strong> most notable contributor <strong>was</strong> ChristopherWordsworth. All <strong>the</strong>se three were of Tr<strong>in</strong>ity. Of certa<strong>in</strong>very ephemeral journalistic efforts I can remember oneor two names such as <strong>the</strong> Moslem, and Momus <strong>in</strong> whichE. H. Palmer wrote. But by far <strong>the</strong> wittiest product ofthose days <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> Light Green, where true genius enlarged<strong>the</strong> scope of Parody with a skill that lifted it high<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> region of literary art. In it occurred, dur<strong>in</strong>g aLittlego-exam<strong>in</strong>ation scene, two l<strong>in</strong>es still often quoted:And, though <strong>the</strong>y wrote it all by rote,They did not write it right.1 See H. Sidgwick, a Memoir, passim and especially p. 820.2 I would note that <strong>the</strong> Johnian Eagle, started <strong>in</strong> 1859 by S. Butlerand o<strong>the</strong>rs, is still <strong>in</strong> flight.
256 W. E. HeitlandThe author 1 <strong>was</strong> A. C. Hilton, an undergraduate of StJohn's, who <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> chief contributor to <strong>the</strong> two numbersthat appeared. Both <strong>in</strong> verse and <strong>in</strong> prose this is <strong>the</strong>brightest of such publications with<strong>in</strong> my memory—yes,even though <strong>the</strong> next period saw <strong>the</strong> early work of OwenSeaman and A. R. Ropes, and <strong>the</strong> flashes of H. R.Tottenham, J. K. Stephen and R. H. Forster. IndeedI can hardly refra<strong>in</strong> from fur<strong>the</strong>r quotations to illustrate<strong>the</strong> versatile <strong>in</strong>genuity with which contemporary writersand academic foibles are alike subjected to jets of happyand orig<strong>in</strong>al banter. Venom <strong>the</strong>re is none, and <strong>the</strong> jibesof irresponsible youth play alike on Carlyle or Sw<strong>in</strong>burne,Tennyson or Bret Harte, <strong>the</strong> Cambridge Toiler or <strong>the</strong>Proctorial system.One topic seems to call for a paragraph to itself. In <strong>the</strong>'sixties <strong>the</strong> subject of Dreams, Ghost stories, Spiritualism,and <strong>the</strong> credibility and explanation of alleged phenomena,began to attract considerable <strong>in</strong>terest. I cannot pass overthis topic altoge<strong>the</strong>r. For among those to whom suchproblems appealed were Henry Sidgwick and F. W.Myers, through whom <strong>the</strong> staid unemotional Cambridgereceived its share of what <strong>was</strong> to become a widespread<strong>in</strong>fection. The Society for Psychical Research <strong>was</strong> founded<strong>in</strong> 1882. That Cambridge men took no small part <strong>in</strong> itsdo<strong>in</strong>gs, truly <strong>in</strong>dicates that it <strong>was</strong> largely <strong>the</strong> outcome of<strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terest taken <strong>in</strong> such th<strong>in</strong>gs here dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies,though its proceed<strong>in</strong>gs took place mostly <strong>in</strong> London. Iam not go<strong>in</strong>g to discuss a matter of which I am notcompetent to speak. But one fact of curious co<strong>in</strong>cidenceseems to me well worth mention<strong>in</strong>g. It <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>'seventies that E. H. Palmer <strong>was</strong> resid<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> Cambridge.This extraord<strong>in</strong>ary l<strong>in</strong>guist, familiar with Orientaltongues and <strong>the</strong> Oriental appetite for mystery and for1 Of whom <strong>the</strong>re is a little Life, with his literary rema<strong>in</strong>s, by SirRobert Edgcumbe, Cambridge, 1904.
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 257mystery's antidote (conjur<strong>in</strong>g by sleight of hand, <strong>in</strong>which he <strong>was</strong> a master), <strong>was</strong> from <strong>the</strong> first a scepticalobserver of 'Spiritualistic' do<strong>in</strong>gs. He believed that <strong>the</strong>phenomena on which <strong>the</strong> Psychical researchers reliedwere capable of be<strong>in</strong>g produced by human agency. Hegave now and <strong>the</strong>n performances as a confessed conjurer,baffl<strong>in</strong>g detection, and constitut<strong>in</strong>g a challenge to thosewho asserted spiritual co-operation <strong>in</strong> enterprises of <strong>the</strong>same k<strong>in</strong>d. Between <strong>the</strong> two views of what passed forevidence I am not fitted to judge; but <strong>the</strong> fact of <strong>the</strong>irexist<strong>in</strong>g side by side is testimony to <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terest taken <strong>in</strong><strong>the</strong> subject at Cambridge. On <strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> Psychicalseekers <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> an honest search for truth with openm<strong>in</strong>d. In <strong>the</strong> next period we f<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong>m employ<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>services of Richard Hodgson, who exposed <strong>the</strong> fraud ofMadame Blavatsky. But human curiosity <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> matterof human immortality still kept alive <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>problems discussed, and has left <strong>the</strong>m unsolved to <strong>the</strong>present hour.It is hardly possible to refer to this 'spiritual' topicwithout say<strong>in</strong>g someth<strong>in</strong>g as to <strong>the</strong> strictly 'religious'situation <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies. The old Simeonite movement,still powerful <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'fifties, but already betray<strong>in</strong>g its<strong>in</strong>sufficiency, <strong>was</strong> no longer an element of importance <strong>in</strong>Cambridge life. Here and <strong>the</strong>re its pr<strong>in</strong>ciples survived <strong>in</strong>small cliques, and at least one College <strong>was</strong> proud to be anEvangelical centre. What really underm<strong>in</strong>ed it <strong>was</strong>nei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong>difference nor ridicule, but <strong>the</strong> encroachmentsof sound learn<strong>in</strong>g. Inconsiderate piety, <strong>the</strong> descendant ofeighteenth-century enthusiasm, <strong>was</strong> steadily lower<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>educational standard of <strong>the</strong> Low Church clergy. This evilcalled for a remedy, and <strong>the</strong> great Div<strong>in</strong>es to whom I havereferred above were leaders <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> endeavour to f<strong>in</strong>d one.They not only encouraged scholarly study by every means<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir power; <strong>the</strong>y discouraged narrow-m<strong>in</strong>ded aloof -B 17
258 W. E. Heitlandness from men of different or deficient creed, and <strong>the</strong>mselvesheld <strong>in</strong>tercourse on equal terms with freeth<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>glaymen of undoubted s<strong>in</strong>cerity. The little society 1 thatused to meet at Trump<strong>in</strong>gton Vicarage <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'sixtiesmarked a stage <strong>in</strong> this liberalis<strong>in</strong>g movement, which wenton all through <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, and helped to keep Cambridgefree from <strong>the</strong> curse of bitterness. The Professorseven arranged for lectures on non-Christian religions.I <strong>was</strong> present on an occasion of <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>d. E. H. Palmer<strong>was</strong> to discourse on Islam, and his reputation drew alarge audience. The Div<strong>in</strong>ity Faculty <strong>was</strong> represented byWestcott and o<strong>the</strong>rs. Palmer <strong>was</strong> not <strong>the</strong> man to attunehis utterances to <strong>the</strong> orthodox proprieties of <strong>the</strong> place,and treated his subject freely. Towards <strong>the</strong> end of hisaddress he remarked that Muhammad <strong>in</strong> his later days<strong>was</strong> driven to use a certa<strong>in</strong> amount of imposture; butover this he passed lightly, h<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>g that such lapse <strong>was</strong>not peculiar to <strong>the</strong> Prophet among religious enthusiasts.I noticed a slight shudder <strong>in</strong> some of <strong>the</strong> company at thisfrank avowal. Then <strong>the</strong> meet<strong>in</strong>g, which had opened withprayer, ended with a few earnest words from Westcott,convey<strong>in</strong>g our jo<strong>in</strong>t thanks to Palmer. He told us tha<strong>the</strong> had himself given much study to <strong>the</strong> chief religions of<strong>the</strong> world, and had come to <strong>the</strong> conclusion that Christianityas known to us <strong>in</strong> our own Church <strong>was</strong> <strong>the</strong> best ofall. This, com<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> all good faith from <strong>the</strong> Regius Professorof Div<strong>in</strong>ity, may serve to illustrate <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>nocents<strong>in</strong>cerity of <strong>the</strong> speaker. The declaration <strong>was</strong> quite unexpectedand hardly called for, and it <strong>was</strong> not easy torepress a smile. The fact that a meet<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>d couldbe well attended is evidence of <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>the</strong>n taken byserious students <strong>in</strong> religious topics. F. D. Maurice, whodied <strong>in</strong> 1872, had been a stimulat<strong>in</strong>g leader <strong>in</strong> many goodmovements, but <strong>in</strong> religious matters <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>def<strong>in</strong>ite nature1 See H. Sidgwick, a Memoir, pp. 184-7.
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 259of his doctr<strong>in</strong>es <strong>was</strong> a clog on <strong>the</strong>ir <strong>in</strong>fluence. It <strong>was</strong>significant of <strong>the</strong> Cambridge dislike for an attitude ofbalance and hesitation—a dislike due to <strong>in</strong>tensive cultureof <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>the</strong>matical m<strong>in</strong>d—that <strong>the</strong> Professorshipvacated by Maurice <strong>was</strong> given to a clergyman of Evangelicallean<strong>in</strong>gs. Sidgwick <strong>in</strong> defeat judged <strong>the</strong> electorsand <strong>the</strong>ir choice with full Christian charity. But of <strong>the</strong><strong>in</strong>ner mean<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> episode <strong>the</strong>re could not be muchdoubt.When I say that <strong>the</strong> old Simeonite movement <strong>was</strong> nolonger a power <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, I feel bound to say alsothat about 1873-5 <strong>the</strong> Revivalist crusade of Moody andSankey reached Cambridge. American enthusiasm, everready to 'go one better' than Europe <strong>in</strong> religion as <strong>in</strong>o<strong>the</strong>r th<strong>in</strong>gs, <strong>was</strong> suddenly turned upon our little studentworld. Whe<strong>the</strong>r this undertak<strong>in</strong>g had been <strong>in</strong> any way<strong>in</strong>spired by <strong>the</strong> unfavourable picture of Cambridge morals<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'forties drawn by C. A. Bristed (New York, 1851),I cannot tell. At all events <strong>the</strong> new evangelists, artists<strong>in</strong> emotional procedure, succeeded <strong>in</strong> lur<strong>in</strong>g undergraduatesto <strong>the</strong>ir meet<strong>in</strong>gs, <strong>in</strong> conv<strong>in</strong>c<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>m of s<strong>in</strong> (<strong>the</strong>ir ownand <strong>the</strong>ir neighbours'), and <strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong>duc<strong>in</strong>g not a few to seeka cure by American methods. So far as I know, no last<strong>in</strong>gresult <strong>was</strong> achieved. But I came across temporary manifestationsthat could not be ignored. A capta<strong>in</strong> of a BoatClub <strong>was</strong> so possessed by <strong>the</strong> spirit of <strong>the</strong> Revival tha<strong>the</strong> (so undergraduate critics declared) chose oarsmen bya mixed standard; and <strong>in</strong>deed his boat, for whateverreason, <strong>was</strong> a failure. Now young men talk, not alwayswisely, but a College Boat is a sacred th<strong>in</strong>g, and even <strong>the</strong>mere suspicion that any officer is play<strong>in</strong>g fast and loosewith its prospects is enough to condemn him as a 'badsportsman'. No Moody and Sankey propaganda couldneutralise so deep-rooted a prejudice. And stories ofgrotesque do<strong>in</strong>gs passed round, such as that of a man17-2
260 W. E. Heitland<strong>in</strong>vit<strong>in</strong>g his gyp to a private prayer-meet<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong> his gyproom;an offer decl<strong>in</strong>ed for lack of leisure. So <strong>the</strong> campaignaccomplished no permanent results <strong>in</strong> chang<strong>in</strong>ghabits, and <strong>in</strong> a few <strong>year</strong>s' time it <strong>was</strong> completely forgotten.The movement for promot<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Higher Education ofWomen, and <strong>the</strong> steps by which it made its first permanenthome at Cambridge, have been described so oftenand so well that little need be said here. The settlementat Hitch<strong>in</strong> <strong>in</strong> 1869, and <strong>the</strong> removal to Girton, record <strong>the</strong>approach from outside; <strong>the</strong> establishment of a newexam<strong>in</strong>ation designed for women, and <strong>the</strong> provision oflectures <strong>in</strong> 1869-70, belong to <strong>the</strong> scheme devised byCambridge residents on somewhat different l<strong>in</strong>es. Thelatter began with lodg<strong>in</strong>gs or hire of a house, and <strong>the</strong>first block of residential build<strong>in</strong>gs known <strong>the</strong>n as NewnhamHall <strong>was</strong> not occupied till 1875. The enterprise hadbeh<strong>in</strong>d it many of <strong>the</strong> lead<strong>in</strong>g academic Liberals of <strong>the</strong>time. To mention <strong>the</strong> names of Adams, Bateson, Maurice,Live<strong>in</strong>g, Bonney, Peile, Ferrers, Venn, <strong>the</strong> Fawcetts, and<strong>the</strong> Kennedys, may give a very imperfect roll of honour.Some (Sidgwick for <strong>in</strong>stance) bore f<strong>in</strong>ancial risks <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>venture, and Mrs Bateson acted as treasurer. Historiesof Girton and Newnham Colleges supply <strong>the</strong> details of adevelopment truly astound<strong>in</strong>g. The po<strong>in</strong>t I would presshere is that <strong>the</strong> time and <strong>in</strong>terest of many active graduateswere dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> 'seventies much engaged <strong>in</strong> forward<strong>in</strong>gthis movement, which gradually became a regularfeature of Cambridge life. The admission of women toTripos exam<strong>in</strong>ations (by courtesy of exam<strong>in</strong>ers) <strong>was</strong> notgranted officially until 1881, after a good-humouredstruggle. The noted triumphs of Miss Ramsay (1887) andMiss Fawcett (1890) were generally welcomed. There <strong>was</strong>as yet no sign of a reactionary sentiment somewhatanalogous to <strong>the</strong> jealous attitude of Trade Unions.
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 261Controversies on educational matters are peculiarlyapt to call forth strange varieties of op<strong>in</strong>ion. One questionon which <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies divergent views were held <strong>was</strong><strong>the</strong> educative value of experiments. That experimentalsciences were dest<strong>in</strong>ed to fill a much larger place <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong>Cambridge of <strong>the</strong> future, <strong>was</strong> as certa<strong>in</strong> as anyth<strong>in</strong>g couldbe. But by some graduates of <strong>the</strong> old school this prospect<strong>was</strong> not warmly welcomed. It <strong>was</strong> urged that for exam<strong>in</strong>ationpurposes (here we meet <strong>the</strong> idol of <strong>the</strong> day)<strong>the</strong>y were of little or no value. Endlessly repeated, withresults long ascerta<strong>in</strong>ed, <strong>the</strong>y were no real tests of <strong>the</strong>candidates' capacity, <strong>in</strong> short, a <strong>was</strong>te of time. I haveoften listened to criticisms of <strong>the</strong> k<strong>in</strong>d from ma<strong>the</strong>maticians.And Isaac Todhunter <strong>in</strong> his essay on <strong>the</strong>Conflict of Studies (1873), speak<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>the</strong> 'value of experimentsso called', endorses this view. He holds thata pupil ought to take well-established facts on trust. * Ifhe does not believe <strong>the</strong> statements of his tutor—probablya clergyman of mature knowledge, recognised ability, andblameless character—his suspicion is irrational, andmanifests a want of <strong>the</strong> power of appreciat<strong>in</strong>g evidence.'Many a reader <strong>the</strong>n smiled at this utterance. It is citedhere as truthfully suggest<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> qua<strong>in</strong>t and honestop<strong>in</strong>ions that helped to make up <strong>the</strong> mental atmosphereof those days; that is, <strong>the</strong> environment <strong>in</strong> which reformershad to do battle for <strong>the</strong>ir ideals. Cambridge had gloried<strong>in</strong> her Senior Wranglers, and for that glory she <strong>was</strong>pay<strong>in</strong>g a price.Of all <strong>the</strong> subjects that were engross<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> attentionof Cambridge residents none <strong>was</strong> more important than<strong>the</strong> question how to revive <strong>the</strong> prestige and efficiency ofofficial teach<strong>in</strong>g; that is, to prevent its be<strong>in</strong>g more andmore thrust <strong>in</strong>to <strong>the</strong> background by <strong>the</strong> parasitic growthof private tuition. For many <strong>year</strong>s past reformers at bothOxford and Cambridge had advocated a revival of <strong>the</strong>
262 W. E. HeitlandProfessorial system. At Oxford <strong>the</strong> College Tutorialsystem had been becom<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> dom<strong>in</strong>ant feature of <strong>the</strong>teach<strong>in</strong>g arrangements, as I believe it still is. At Cambridge,nei<strong>the</strong>r Professors nor College Lecturers couldcompete successfully with <strong>the</strong> private 'Coaches'. Rightlyor not, <strong>the</strong> student who sought Honours <strong>in</strong> a Tripos mistrustedofficial teach<strong>in</strong>g as a means of secur<strong>in</strong>g for him<strong>the</strong> highest possible place <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> list; and on his place<strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> so-called ' order of merit' much depended. To someit meant <strong>the</strong> chance of a Fellowship, to many more itmade all <strong>the</strong> difference between a more or less favourablestart <strong>in</strong> a professional career. To <strong>the</strong> average 'Poll' Man,who sought an Ord<strong>in</strong>ary Degree with <strong>the</strong> least possiblemental exertion, <strong>the</strong> Poll Coach <strong>was</strong> recommended by <strong>the</strong>belief that he would impart to his pupils noth<strong>in</strong>g beyond<strong>the</strong> bare m<strong>in</strong>imum needed for pass<strong>in</strong>g muster; that is, fordefeat<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> exam<strong>in</strong>ers. In both cases, Honours or Poll,<strong>the</strong> supply of teach<strong>in</strong>g followed <strong>the</strong> demand. The consumerdid not ask for teach<strong>in</strong>g as an educational boon,but to secure an official record of performance thatcarried a certa<strong>in</strong> economic and social value. On <strong>the</strong> faceof it <strong>the</strong> Coach gave him what he asked. If Hambl<strong>in</strong>Smith never<strong>the</strong>less did do someth<strong>in</strong>g to educate his Pollmen, that <strong>was</strong> ow<strong>in</strong>g to his skill, and few of <strong>the</strong>m wouldbe conscious of <strong>the</strong> benefit. Now <strong>the</strong> order of merit <strong>in</strong>Honour lists and <strong>the</strong> low pass standard of <strong>the</strong> Poll were,as th<strong>in</strong>gs stood <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'seventies, ma<strong>in</strong> features of ourexam<strong>in</strong>ation system. The first <strong>was</strong> generally regardedwith pride, and <strong>the</strong> second tolerated as represent<strong>in</strong>gpossible requirements <strong>in</strong> view of <strong>the</strong> present state ofeducation <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> country.So far as Honours were concerned, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>was</strong> no prospectof any change while 'order of merit' prevailed.But some attempt had been made to improve <strong>the</strong> Pollcourse by regulations requir<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> candidates for an
Cambridge <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> 'Seventies 263Ord<strong>in</strong>ary Degree to have attended <strong>the</strong> lectures of certa<strong>in</strong>Professors, and to produce certificates of attendance.This plan furnished some Professors with classes; andsome people fancied that this <strong>was</strong> <strong>in</strong> part its object. Butto enforce <strong>the</strong> rule <strong>was</strong> not a simple matter, and storiesof tricks and evasions were current, exaggerated nodoubt, but discredit<strong>in</strong>g this solution of an awkwardproblem. So it happened that <strong>in</strong> 1876-7 compulsoryattendance at Professorial lectures became a 'live issue'<strong>in</strong> our academic politics, provok<strong>in</strong>g warm controversy.Reports of syndicates, discussions <strong>in</strong&