nim. If we determine that the characteristic is vital, we may demand it when we choose touchstones for ourselves. One of Arnold's test verses is "the simple, but perfect, single line" from Dante :

"In la sua voluntade è nostra pace."

In His will is our peace. And another is from Milton:

"And courage never to submit or yield,

And what is else not to be overcome.'

The characteristic of each — so far as the thought goes — is that it holds, as if in balance, and perfect balance at that, the two extremes of the thought conveyed, and that each of these extremes, opposed as they are, contributes to the full significance of the whole. In the former test line the central thought is 'peace.' The thought is rich, full, and final because it holds in balance the conditions that in opposition could not make it, but that in harmony do; 'God's will' and our little wills. The former expressed, the latter suggested. In the second passage contrasted aspects of courage are held in solution; courage that in defeat confesses it not, courage that in conflict cannot be defeated. The mere style, moreover, of each of these passages displays rhythmical and musical form balanced in itself and suited to the idea expressed. 'Voluntade' balances in sound, as well as in sense, 'nostra pace.' Vowels and consonants hold a sequence through the line expressive of perfect unison. In the other passage, 'Never' matches with 'else' in sense and sound; 'courage' with 'overcome,' which is itself a climax to 'submit' and 'yield.'

This characteristic of the reconciliation of opposites in substance and style is the accent that marks all Arnold's touchstones. An artistic effect may be sometimes produced by suppressing one extreme, or even the higher balancing thought; but what is suppressed must be suggested. The presence of this characteristic explains why it is that every one chooses as a passage of inevitable poetry the stanzas in Childe Harold descriptive of the Dying Gladiator. Such lines as

and

and

"his manly brow CONSENTS to death but CONQUERS agony,"

"He heard it, but he heeded not- - his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away,"

"Butchered to make a Roman holiday,"

such lines express the significant thought in its aspects most opposed and yet most vital, and in the one emotive, imaginative, balanced, and rhythmical form appropriate to it.

3

The supremely poetic moment of just this quality abounds in the verse of Milton. In the Comus it inspires such lines as

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk;

and that fine strain beginning

and ending with

"

A thousand liveried angels lackey her;"

"The unpolluted temple of the mind."

Wordsworth at his best gleams with lines jewelled in sound and sense, such as

and

"The still sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh nor grating, still of ample power

To chasten and subdue;".

"His little, nameless, unremembered acts

Of kindness and of love;"

and, in the lament for Lucy:

and in every stanza of the Ode to Duty till we reach the stately conclusion

"And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live."

The balance of the thoughts opposed, yet reconciled and of the component sounds is in all these lines perfect and manifest. So also in Coleridge:

"He prayeth best who loveth best

All things both great and small;'

and in Keats, as through the stanza opening,

"Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird;"

and in Shelley, with every chord of

"We look before and after

And pine for what is not;

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."

The last line of which reminds us of Tennyson's equally poetic
"Sweet as remembered kisses after death;"

and

""Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all;"

and of that progressive resolution of discords :

"The old order changeth, yielding place to new;
And God fulfils himself in many ways,

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world."

Laid to the heart of humanity the supremely poetic line comforts and strengthens, rejoices, illuminates, and beautifies. As a test, the quality of poetic moments, the 'touchstone' is of decided worth. It must not, however, be applied to the exclusion of other tests which have in view the possession of the larger emotional effects, and the cumulative nature of the poem as a whole.

The Effect on the Senses. If we consider the fact that images appeal to different senses of the reader as objects to different senses of the man perceiving them, we may deem it not improbable that the poet gains in excellence in proportion as he gives pleasure to a variety of senses: delighting not merely the sense of sight, for instance, but those of hearing and touch and taste and smelling - the perceptions of mass and movement as well. It will be noticed that Shelley appeals largely to vision and to what is called the motor sense; and that Keats indulges in images of color, touch, taste, and odor, more than most poets. An examination into the sense-appeal of poets demonstrates conclusively that the poet who, while varying his images, most fully and consistently delights the higher senses hearing, for instance, vision, and the motor sense—is more likely than others to win the admiration of mankind. Shakespeare and Milton, for instance, awaken all the senses, but they specially appeal to the highest.

The Effect on the Emotions: Real and Esthetic. One of the characteristics of poetry as of all art is to awaken unselfish, that is to say, ideal emotion. The art which appeals to the senses alone, to taste and touch and the various carnal affections, can hardly be called art at all. It is one of the essentials of art that it should not arouse personal hungers and thirsts in order to allay them with practical and physical satisfaction. It should awaken desires and ideals which men may enjoy in common. It is not even sufficient that, rising beyond the appeal to the senses, it should appeal to such emotions as love or hatred, personal pity or terror; for here again the individual is interested. That which arouses the personal emotions may awaken a desire to possess that which is admired or to fly from that which is dreaded. Art must, therefore, make its appeal not to the senses alone, lower or higher, nor alone to the personal emotions, but to emotions which have no practical

bearing upon our everyday lives, no connection with selfish interests, but a significance that is universal, an aim that is ideal. These are the aesthetic emotions. They have no suggestion of a purpose; no result in action. The objects that produce them are felt, to be sure, but only after they have passed through the imagination. The emotions have a reality, but it is imaginatively expressed. The heart is affected, but it manifests its affection only indirectly. The æsthetic emotions are more delightful, the more likely to endure and to satisfy us, just because they do not call for any immediate choice, decision, or movement on our part; because they may be shared with others and may grow in intensity with social communication.

Gradation of Esthetic Emotions. -The emotions may be graded in æsthetic quality according as they affect us less and less personally, more and more socially and ideally. The physically pleasant, the ugly, and the horrible, when presented in the drama, may cause the audience to enjoy or shudder in unison, but still it will arouse more or less of a physical sensation and interest in the individual spectator. This is the lowest grade of æsthetic pleasure on the border of the physical. When, however, we witness the romantic adventures of a Rosalind or the comic misfortunes of a Malvolio, or the pathetic fate of a Desdemona, a higher grade of pleasure ensues. Nothing, or almost nothing, of the physical like or dislike is awakened. Our pleasure is not tarnished by personal desire or hate or horror. And yet though these emotions are more æsthetic than those produced by the physically pleasant, the ugly, and the horrible, there lingers a spice of personal interest. We take personal enjoyment in the romantic wooing of Rosalind, we are personally delighted by the contemptible failure of Malvolio, personally bereaved by the unmerited death of Desdemona. These, then, may be called the individual æsthetic emotions. The highest kind of æsthetic emotion, however, is the universal. Its kinds are all ideal. The beautiful in the masque of Comus or The Vision of Sir Launfal, the sublime in the career of Richard III, Coriolanus, Arthur, the tragic in the fate of Macbeth and Brutus, are enjoyed by us supremely because we in no way associate the beauty or the sublimity of the tragedy with the interests of our own little lives. We enjoy the harmonious blending of nature and spirit in the beautiful without a quiver of petty desire to possess the object of beauty. We contemplate sublimity in the course of a Coriolanus or an Ajax with no thought of our own insignificance in presence thereof. We suffer tragedy to play itself to the bitter close in Macbeth and Julius Cæsar and Othello, because we know that the power that shapes our ends is working for the universal good; and we enjoy the triumph of the right because we have ideally submitted ourselves to the ways of Providence. So the cardinal æsthetic

ENGLISH POETRY

PROGRESS AND MASTERPIECES

CHAPTER I

HISTORICAL BASIS

THE ORIGINS OF THE LANGUAGE

BEFORE entering upon the study of modern English poetry it will be wise to consider briefly the language in which that poetry is written. As we shall see, it is a language composed of elements which have been added one after another, as one race after another has come and seen and conquered upon British soil. We shall attempt merely to enumerate these conquests, leaving the student to fill in the story from his study of English history or the history of English literature.

1. The Celts and the Romans. In the early westward migration of the races, the Celts made their way as far as the British Isles, and, several centuries before the beginning of the Christian era, had obtained entire possession of the country. In 55 and 54 B.C. the Romans under Julius Cæsar made two unavailing expeditions into Britain. A century later, in their career of Western conquest, they gained a military supremacy over the Celts, at least in the southern and more accessible portions of the island, and, to some extent, civilized the original inhabitants. But direct traces of early Celt and early Roman do not abound in our language, though the Celtic element, as we shall find, has had no slight influence in providing theme and spirit for future English poetry.

2. The Teutons (Anglo-Saxons). — When the Roman troops were called home, about 400 A.D., to defend the imperial city from the attacks of Teutonic invaders, the Celtic tribes in the north and west of Britain, taking advantage of the defenceless condition of the weaker Celts of the south, swooped down upon them and threatened to overrun the country. In their extremity the southern Celts called to their aid the Teutonic tribes dwelling upon the easterly shore of the North Sea