"But this she knows, in joys and woes, That saints will aid if men will call: For the blue sky bends over all."

His references to nature are less remarkable for description or photographic details than for suggestiveness and diffused charm, such as we find in these lines:--

"...the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune."

Wordsworth wrote few poems simpler than _The Ancient Mariner_. A stanza like this seems almost as simple as breathing:--

"The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside."

Prose.--Coleridge's prose, which is almost all critical or philosophical, left its influence on the thought of the nineteenth century. When he was a young man, he went to Germany and studied philosophy with a continued vigor unusual for him. He became an idealist and used the idealistic teachings of the German metaphysicians to combat the utilitarian and sense-bound philosophy of Bentham, Malthus, and Mill. We pa.s.s by Coleridge's _Aids to Reflection_ (1825), the weightiest of his metaphysical productions, to consider those works which possess a more vital interest for the student of literature.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COLERIDGE AS A YOUNG MAN. _From a sketch made in Germany_.]

His _Lectures on Shakespeare_, delivered in 1811, contained epoch-making Shakespearean criticism. We are told that every drawing-room in London discussed them. His greatest work on criticism is ent.i.tled _Biographia Literaria_ (2 Vols., 1817). There are parts of it which no careful student of the development of modern criticism can afford to leave unread. The central point of this work is the exposition of his theory of the romantic school of poetry. He thus gives his own aim and that of Wordsworth in the composition of the volume of poems, known as _Lyrical Ballads_:--

"...it was agreed that my endeavors should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic; yet so as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which const.i.tutes poetic faith.

Mr. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was to propose to himself as his object, to give the charm of novelty to things of every day, and to excite a feeling a.n.a.logous to the supernatural by awakening the mind's attention from the lethargy of custom, and directing it to the loveliness and wonders of the world before us."[17]

Coleridge does not hold Wordsworth's belief that the language of common speech and of poetry should be identical. He shows that Wordsworth does better than follow his own theories. Yet, when he considers both the excellencies and the defects of Wordsworth's verse, Coleridge's verdict of praise is substantially that of the twentieth century. This is an unusual triumph for a contemporary critic, sitting in judgment on an author of an entirely new school and rendering a decision in opposition to that of the majority, who, he says, "have made it a business to attack and ridicule Mr. Wordsworth... His _fame_ belongs to another age and can neither be accelerated nor r.e.t.a.r.ded."[18]

GEORGE NOEL GORDON, LORD BYRON, 1788-1824

[Ill.u.s.tration: GEORGE NOEL GORDON, LORD BYRON. _From a portrait by Kramer_.]

Life.--Byron was born in London in 1788. His father was a reckless, dissipated spendthrift, who deserted his wife and child. Mrs. Byron convulsively clasped her son to her one moment and threw the scissors and tongs at him the next, calling him "the lame brat," in reference to his club foot. Such treatment drew neither respect nor obedience from Byron, who inherited the proud, defiant spirit of his race. His accession to the peerage in 1798 did not tend to tame his haughty nature, and he grew up pa.s.sionately imperious and combative.

Being ambitious, he made excellent progress in his studies at Harrow, but when he entered Cambridge he devoted much of his time to shooting, swimming, and other sports, for which he was always famous. In 1809 he started on a two years' trip through Spain, Greece, and the far East.

Upon his return, he published two cantos of _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, which describe his journey.

This poem made him immediately popular. London society neglected its old favorite, Scott, and eagerly sought out the handsome young peer who had burst suddenly upon it. Poem after poem was produced by this lion of society, and each one was received with enthusiasm and delight. Probably no other English poet knew such instant widespread fame as Byron.

Suddenly and unexpectedly this adulation turned to hatred. In 1815 Byron married Miss Milbanke, an heiress, but she left him a year later. Although no reason for the separation was given, the public fastened all the blame upon Byron. The feeling against him grew so strong that he was warned by his friends to prepare for open violence, and finally, in 1816, he left England forever.

His remaining eight years were spent mostly in Italy. Here, his great beauty, his exile, his poetry, and his pa.s.sionate love of liberty made him a prominent figure throughout Europe. Notwithstanding this fame, life was a disappointment to Byron. Baffled but rebellious, he openly defied the conventions of his country; and seemed to enjoy the shock it gave to his countrymen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BYRON AT SEVENTEEN. _From a painting_.]

The closing year of his life shone brightest of all. His main activities had hitherto been directed to the selfish pursuit of his own pleasure; and he had failed to obtain happiness. But in 1823 Byron went to Greece to aid the Greeks, who were battling with Turkey for their independence. Into this struggle for freedom, he poured his whole energies, displaying "a wonderful apt.i.tude for managing the complicated intrigues and plans and selfishnesses which lay in the way." His efforts cost him his life. He contracted fever, and, after restlessly battling with the disease, said quietly, one April morning in 1824, "Now I shall go to sleep." His relatives asked in vain for permission to inter him in Westminster Abbey. He was buried in the family vault at Hucknall, Notthinghamshire, not far from Newstead Abbey.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NEWSTEAD ABBEY, BYRON'S HOME.]

Early Works.--The poems that Byron wrote during his brilliant sojourn in London, amid the whirl of social gayeties, are _The Giaour, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair, Parisina, Lara_, and _The Siege of Corinth_. These narrative poems are romantic tales of oriental pa.s.sion and coloring, which show the influence of Scott. They are told with a dash and a fine-sounding rhetoric well fitted to attract immediate attention; but they lack the qualities of sincere feeling, lofty thought, and subtle beauty, which give lasting fame.

His next publication, _The Prisoner of Chillon_ (1816), is a much worthier poem. The pathetic story is feelingly told in language that often displays remarkable energy and mastery of expression and versification. His picture of the oppressive vacancy which the Prisoner felt is a well-executed piece of very difficult word painting:--

"There were no stars, no earth, no time, No check, no change, no good, no crime-- But silence, and a stirless breath Which neither was of life nor death; A sea of stagnant idleness, Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASTLE OF CHILLON.]

Dramas.--Byron wrote a number of dramas, the best of which are _Manfred_ (1817) and _Cain_ (1821). His spirit of defiance and his insatiable thirst for power are the subjects of these dramas. Manfred is a man of guilt who is at war with humanity, and who seeks refuge on the mountain tops and by the wild cataract. He is fearless and untamed in all his misery, and even in the hour of death does not quail before the spirits of darkness, but defies them with the cry:--

"Back to thy h.e.l.l!

Thou hast no power upon me, _that_ I feel!

Thou never shall possess me, _that_ I know; What I have done is done; I bear within A torture which could nothing gain from thine; * * * * *

Back, ye baffled fiends!

The hand of death is on me--but not yours!"

Cain, while suffering remorse for the slaying of Abel, is borne by Lucifer through the boundless fields of the universe. Cain yet dares to question the wisdom of the Almighty in bringing evil, sin, and remorse into the world. A critic has remarked that "Milton wrote his great poem to justify the ways of G.o.d to man; Byron's object seems to be to justify the ways of man to G.o.d."

The very soul of stormy revolt breathes through both _Manfred_ and _Cain_, but _Cain_ has more interest as a pure drama. It contains some sweet pa.s.sages and presents one lovely woman,--Adah. But Byron could not interpret character wholly at variance with his own. He possessed but little constructive skill, and he never overcame the difficulties of blank verse. A drama that does not show wide sympathy with varied types of humanity and the constructive capacity to present the complexities of life is lacking in essential elements of greatness.

Childe Harold, The Vision of Judgment, and Don Juan.--His best works are the later poems, which require only a slight framework or plot, such as _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, The Vision of Judgement,_ and _Don Juan_.

The third and fourth cantos of _Childe Harold_, published in 1816 and 1818, respectively, are far superior to the first two. These later cantos continue the travels of Harold, and contain some of Byron's most splendid descriptions of nature, cities, and works of art. Rome, Venice, the Rhine, the Alps, and the sea inspired the finest lines. He wrote of Venice as she--

"...Sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance."

He calls Rome--

"The Niobe of nations! there she stands.

Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her wither'd hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago."

The following description, from Canto III, of a wild stormy night in the mountains is very characteristic of his nature poetry and of his own individuality:--

"And this is in the night:--Most Glorious night!

Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight-- A portion of the tempest and of thee!

How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!

And now again 'tis black,--and now, the glee of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth"

When George III. died, Southey wrote a poem filled with absurd flattery of that monarch. Byron had such intense hatred for the hypocrisy of society that he wrote his _Vision of Judgment_ (1822) to parody Southey's poem and to make the author the object of satire.

Pungent wit, vituperation, and irony were here handled by Byron in a brilliant manner, which had not been equaled since the days of Dryden and Pope. The parodies of most poems are quickly forgotten, but we have here the strange case of Byron's parody keeping alive Southey's original.

_Don Juan_ (1819-1824), a long poem in sixteen cantos, is Byron's greatest work. It is partly autobiographic. The sinister, gloomy Don Juan is an ideal picture of the author, who was sore and bitter over his thwarted hopes of liberty and happiness. Therefore, instead of strengthening humanity with hope for the future, this poem tears hope from the horizon, and suggests the possible anarchy and destruction toward which the world's hypocrisy, cant, tyranny, and universal stupidity are tending.

The poem is unfinished. Byron followed Don Juan through all the phases of life known to himself. The hero has exciting adventures and pa.s.sionate loves, he is favored at courts, he is driven to the lowest depths of society, he experiences a G.o.dlike happiness and a demoniacal despair.

_Don Juan_ is a scathing satire upon society. All its fondest idols,--love, faith, and hope,--are dragged in the mire. There is something almost grand in the way that this t.i.tanic scoffer draws pictures of love only to mock at them, sings patriotic songs only to add--

"Thus sung, or would, or could, or should have sung The modern Greek in tolerable verse,"

and mentions Homer, Milton, and Shakespeare only to show how accidental and worthless is fame.

Amid the splendid confusion of pathos, irony, pa.s.sion, mockery, keen wit, and brilliant epigram, which display Byron's versatile and spontaneous genius at its height, there are some beautiful and powerful pa.s.sages. There is an ideal picture of the love of Don Juan and Haidee:--

"Each was the other's mirror, and but read Joy sparkling in their dark eyes like a gem."