over rough paving-stones. The same man who could write such lines as "From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, seemed when he was writing prose to have lost all knowledge of syntax, and all appreciation of the balance of a sentence. The trouble was that the writers before Dryden would weigh down their prose with numberless parentheses, side-remarks, and let their sentences involve themselves inextricably. Only when their prose took on a poetical form could they command it. Of Bunyan, on the other hand, who knew nothing of the classicisms which so often embarrassed his more learned contemporaries, but who was the master of a true colloquial style, I shall speak later. That this awkward form of writing should have lasted long, need not be wondered at. In the first place, there was no great reading public that should demand clearness. Milton's pamphlets were read by scholars who probably thought that in reading English instead of Latin they were making sufficient sacrifice to indolence; and the practice of writing awkward Latin made them tolerant of clumsy English. Then, what we see of the present condition of the German language may serve to show us that it is only by a great deal of attrition that a simple style is produced. We never open a German book without noticing the artificial construction and shapeless form of the German sentence, both of which are sure to disappear in time as the language is more used. If we read Plattdeutsch, we find perfectly simple constructions; and so, in the books that were read by the populace in the middle of the seventeenth century, we find a style which is readily intelligible to us nowadays. It was pedantry that injured the English style then, just as it does the German now. Howell's "Letters," to be sure (1618-1650), were written in an easy, graceful manner; but then he not only could boast that he was able to pray in a separate language for every day of the week and in seven on Sunday, but he also was familiar with foreign literatures, and doubtless copied Balzac, the famous letter-writer who had really nothing to say, and so devoted himself to saying that very well. What produced the change in writing English prose we may take to have been, as Mr. Saintsbury has said in his life of Dryden, in the "English Men of Letters " series, "the influences of the pulpit, of political discussion, of miscellaneous writing-partly fictitious, partly discursive—and, lastly, of literary criticism." All of these things, we may notice, were different varieties of the one great cause, practice. When only scholars read, the theatre supplied the literary pabulum of the great majority of the people; the Puritans read the Bible, and but little elseand the "Pilgrim's Progress" shows how the populace had made the phraseology of the Bible their own; but as political matters became of more general interest, the pamphlets adapted themselves to the wants of readers. There can, too, be but little doubt that those who were accustomed to listening rather than to reading acquired a tolerance for spoken words which those who are mainly accustomed to reading do not enjoy. As Dr. Johnson said when he snatched the book from some one who began to read aloud to him, we can read much more easily with our eyes than with our ears: and so doubtless we have lost to some extent the possibility of comprehending at once the long sentences of plays which our ancestors grasped at once. This may to some extent explain, what is otherwise not very clear, why ignorant audiences enjoyed, for instance, Shakspere's and Ben Jonson's plays, which we prefer to read by ourselves; how these comparatively ignorant people were able to listen intelligently to long declamations. This, however, is but a digression. The extent to which theology was studied we can hardly imagine at present; and the hot discussions that raged on all sorts of ecclesiastical questions were far from having a civilizing effect on literature. III. With the Restoration, however, there came new influences. Questions of politics, as I have said, presented themselves for settlement, and the long-winded style soon ceased to find readers. It is customary to explain the change in literature by ascribing the various modifications to what is called the French influence which entered the country with the return of Charles II. There is a great deal of truth in the statement, but not enough to give a complete explanation of the striking differences between the literature of the Elizabethan era and what we may vaguely call that of Queen Anne. And, if the statement were precise, it would still be necessary to explain what is meant by the French influence. Taken vaguely, the French influence in literature lay in the direction of correctness, especially in the way of correctness as compared with the work of rough, untutored genius. Yet the tendency towards precision and the observance of rules was more widespread than might be imagined by those who think they wholly account for it by calling it French. We may ask, meanwhile, how did the French happen to be interested in it? and, also, by whom were their rules imposed upon the English? We are all familiar with the enormous influence of the Renaissance on modern society. The light came from antiquity that expelled the dull gloom of the dark ages, and the world seemed young again. The fall of Constantinople in 1453 sent a number of Greeks to seek new homes in Europe, where they should be secure from Mahometan tyranny. Already, too, in Italy scholars had begun to take their shattered relations to the past. While the rest of Europe was still in darkness, more than a glimmering of light had begun to dawn in that peninsula. There were scholars already there who had made the best of such advantages as they had, and were eager for more. The invention of the printing-press, the first of the great mechanical inventions, in 1450, suddenly brought copies of the ancient authors to hungry readers, and literature began anew. The mediæval literature, it must be remembered, was considerable in amount; but it had grown artificial and unfruitful when these finer models were rediscovered. It is impossible at this time to describe the growth of literature in the different countries of Europe. There is opportunity for the mention of but a few of the important facts connected with the way in which literature developed itself. In the first place, we should bear in mind the extent to which the European knowledge of antiquity is, in the main, a knowledge of Rome, and of Greece through Rome. Roman literature was for the most part an awkward copy of Greek originals: its early native development was crowded out of existence by the superior Hellenic culture. The rude mythology of Latium gave way before the Greek gods and goddesses with all their legendary history; the humbler Latin deities surviving only in the simple faith of the rustics. The Greek arts found new patrons in Italy, and almost all Roman literature was made to follow Greek models. Horace's odes, Terence's plays, Vergil's free use of Homer, sufficiently illustrate this. Now, when the classical literature was discovered anew, Greek and Roman writers were not so clearly distinguished as they have been in later times. They were classical writers, and that was enough. What we notice in modern Europe is this, that it was much more commonly the Roman than the Grecian writers who served as models. Thus the modern drama of Italy, France, and England began with copying Seneca in tragedy, and Plautus and Terence in comedy. The pastorals of the same countries, which were long a favorite method of writing, were imitations of Vergil and Calpurnius rather than of the Greek originals.* In a hasty sketch of the work of centuries, only somewhat general statements can be made; and, without going into further particulars or noting the few exceptions, it may be enough to say that modern literature was built up on a tradition of a tradition. At first, the effect of the Renaissance was almost entirely a stimulating one. The long-winded romances, the dull allegories, the artificial poetry of medieval literature were driven out—in fact, they were already dead, as was mediæval art, and in their place came the inspiring forces of wit, grace, eloquence, and taste. In remoter countries, as Spain and England, the ef *Symonds, "Renaissance in Italy," v. 132, note, says: "The more we study Italian literature in the sixteenth century, the more we are compelled to acknowledge that humanism and all its consequences were a revival of Latin culture, only slightly tinctured with the simpler and purer influences of the Greeks." Sidney said of Gorboduc, in his "Defense of Poesy," that it was "full of stately speeches and well-sounding phrases, climbing to the height of Seneca his style, and as full of notable morality, which it doth most delightfully teach and so obtain the very end of Poesy." Scaliger, "Poetices," vi. 6, says: "Seneca quem nullo Græcorum majestate inferiorem existimo, cultu vero ac nitore etiam Euripide majorem. Inventiones sane illorum sunt: at majestas carminis, sonus, spiritus ipsius." "Malherbe . . . n'estimoit point du tout les Grecs. . . . Pour les Latins, ceux qu'il aimoit le plus étoit Stace, et, apres lui, Sénèque le Tragique."-Racan, "Vie de Malherbe." † Vide Renan, "Mélanges d'Histoire et de Voyages," p. 209 et seq. |