English Literature
criticism as existed seems to us now to have been largely the result of
personal opinion or prejudice. Indeed we could hardly expect anything else
before some systematic study of our literature as a whole had been
attempted. In one age a poem was called good or bad according as it
followed or ran counter to so-called classic rules; in another we have the
dogmatism of Dr. Johnson; in a third the personal judgment of Lockhart and
the editors of the _Edinburgh Review_ and the _Quarterly_, who so violently
abused Keats and the Lake poets in the name of criticism. Early in the
nineteenth century there arose a new school of criticism which was guided
by knowledge of literature, on the one hand, and by what one might call the
fear of God on the other. The latter element showed itself in a profound
human sympathy,--the essence of the romantic movement,--and its importance
was summed up by De Quincey when he said, "Not to sympathize is not to
understand." These new critics, with abundant reverence for past masters,
could still lay aside the dogmatism and prejudice which marked Johnson and
the magazine editors, and read sympathetically the work of a new author,
with the sole idea of finding what he had contributed, or tried to
contribute, to the magnificent total of our literature. Coleridge, Hunt,
Hazlitt, Lamb, and De Quincey were the leaders in this new and immensely
important development; and we must not forget the importance of the new
periodicals, like the _Londen Magazine,_ founded in 1820, in which Lamb, De
Quincey, and Carlyle found their first real encouragement.
Of Coleridge's _Biographica Literaria_ and his _Lectures on Shakespeare_ we
have already spoken. Leigh Hunt (1784-1859) wrote continuously for more
than thirty years, as editor and essayist; and his chief object seems to
have been to make good literature known and appreciated. William Hazlitt
(1778-1830), in a long series of lectures and essays, treated all reading
as a kind of romantic journey into new and pleasant countries. To his work
largely, with that of Lamb, was due the new interest in Elizabethan
literature, which so strongly influenced Keats's last and best volume of
poetry. For those interested in the art of criticism, and in the
appreciation of literature, both Hunt and Hazlitt will well repay study;
but we must pass over their work to consider the larger literary interest
of Lamb and De Quincey, who were not simply critics of other men's labor,
but who also produced some delightful work of their own, which the world
has carefully put away among the "things worthy to be remembered."
CHARLES LAMB (1775-1834)
In Lamb and Wordsworth we have two widely different views of the romantic
movement; one shows the influence of nature and solitude, the other of
society. Lamb was a lifelong friend of Coleridge, and an admirer and
defender of the poetic creed of Wordsworth; but while the latter lived
apart from men, content with nature and with reading an occasional moral
lesson to society, Lamb was born and lived in the midst of the London
streets. The city crowd, with its pleasures and occupations, its endless
little comedies and tragedies, alone interested him. According to his own
account, when he paused in the crowded street tears would spring to his
eyes,--tears of pure pleasure at the abundance of so much good life; and
when he wrote, he simply interpreted that crowded human life of joy and
sorrow, as Wordsworth interpreted the woods and waters, without any desire
to change or to reform them. He has given us the best pictures we possess
of Coleridge, Hazlitt, Landor, Hood, Cowden Clarke, and many more of the
interesting men and women of his age; and it is due to his insight and
sympathy that the life of those far-off days seems almost as real to us as
if we ourselves remembered it. Of all our English essayists he is the most
lovable; partly because of his delicate, old-fashioned style and humor, but
more because of that cheery and heroic struggle against misfortune which
shines like a subdued light in all his writings.
LIFE. In the very heart of London there is a curious, old-fashioned place
known as the Temple,--an enormous, rambling, apparently forgotten
structure, dusty and still, in the midst of the endless roar of the city
streets. Originally it was a chapter house of the Knights Templars, and so
suggests to us the spirit of the Crusades and of the Middle Ages; but now
the building is given over almost entirely to the offices and lodgings of
London lawyers. It is this queer old place which, more than all others, is
associated with the name of Charles Lamb. "I was born," he says, "and
passed the first seven years of my life in the Temple. Its gardens, its
halls, its fountain, its river... these are my oldest recollections." He
was the son of a poor clerk, or rather servant, of one of the barristers,
and was the youngest of seven children, only three of whom survived
infancy. Of these three, John, the elder, was apparently a selfish
creature, who took no part in the heroic struggle of his brother and
sister. At seven years, Charles was sent to the famous "Bluecoat" charity
school of Christ's Hospital. Here he remained seven years; and here he
formed his lifelong friendship for another poor, neglected boy, whom the
world remembers as Coleridge.[230]
When only fourteen years old, Lamb left the charity school and was soon at
work as a clerk in the South Sea House. Two years later he became a clerk
in the famous India House, where he worked steadily for thirty-three years,
with the exception of six weeks, in the winter of 1795-1796, spent within
the walls of an asylum. In 1796 Lamb's sister Mary, who was as talented and
remarkable as Lamb himself, went violently insane and killed her own
mother. For a long time after this appalling tragedy she was in an asylum
at Hoxton; then Lamb, in 1797, brought her to his own little house, and for
the remainder of his life cared for her with a tenderness and devotion
which furnishes one of the most beautiful pages in our literary history. At
times the malady would return to Mary, giving sure warning of its terrible
approach; and then brother and sister might be seen walking silently, hand
in hand, to the gates of the asylum, their cheeks wet with tears. One must
remember this, as well as Lamb's humble lodgings and the drudgery of his
daily work in the-big commercial house, if he would appreciate the pathos
of "The Old Familiar Faces," or the heroism which shines through the most
human and the most delightful essays in our language.
When Lamb was fifty years of age the East India Company, led partly by his
literary fame following his first _Essays of Elia_, and partly by his
thirty-three years of faithful service, granted him a comfortable pension;
and happy as a boy turned loose from school he left India House forever to
give himself up to literary work.[231] He wrote to Wordsworth, in April,
1825, "I came home _forever_ on Tuesday of last week--it was like passing
from life into eternity." Curiously enough Lamb seems to lose power after
his release from drudgery, and his last essays, published in 1833, lack
something of the grace and charm of his earlier work. He died at Edmonton
in 1834; and his gifted sister Mary sank rapidly into the gulf from which
his strength and gentleness had so long held her back. No literary man was
ever more loved and honored by a rare circle of friends; and all who knew
him bear witness to the simplicity and goodness which any reader may find
for himself between the lines of his essays.
WORKS. The works of Lamb divide themselves naturally into three periods.
First, there are his early literary efforts, including the poems signed "C.
L." in Coleridge's _Poems on Various Subjects_ (1796); his romance
_Rosamund Gray_ (1798); his poetical drama _John Woodvil_ (1802); and
various other immature works in prose and poetry. This period comes to an
end in 1803, when he gave up his newspaper work, especially the
contribution of six jokes, puns, and squibs daily to the _Morning Post_ at
sixpence apiece. The second period was given largely to literary criticism;
and the _Tales from Shakespeare_ (1807)--written by Charles and Mary Lamb,
the former reproducing the tragedies, and the latter the comedies--may be
regarded as his first successful literary venture. The book was written
primarily for children; but so thoroughly had brother and sister steeped
themselves in the literature of the Elizabethan period that young and old
alike were delighted with this new version of Shakespeare's stories, and
the _Tales_ are still regarded as the best of their kind in our literature.
In 1808 appeared his _Specimens of English Dramatic Poets Contemporary with
Shakespeare_. This carried out the splendid critical work of Coleridge, and
was the most noticeable influence in developing the poetic qualities of
Keats, as shown in his last volume.
The third period includes Lamb's criticisms of life, which are gathered
together in his _Essays of Elia_ (1823), and his _Last Essays of Elia_,
which were published ten years later. These famous essays began in 1820
with the appearance of the new _London Magazine_[232] and were continued
for many years, such subjects as the "Dissertation on Roast Pig," "Old
China," "Praise of Chimney Sweepers," "Imperfect Sympathies," "A Chapter on
Ears," "Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist," "Mackery End," "Grace Before
Meat," "Dream Children," and many others being chosen apparently at random,
but all leading to a delightful interpretation of the life of London, as it
appeared to a quiet little man who walked unnoticed through its crowded
streets. In the first and last essays which we have mentioned,
"Dissertation on Roast Pig" and "Dream Children," we have the extremes of
Lamb's humor and pathos.
The style of all these essays is gentle, old-fashioned, irresistibly
attractive. Lamb was especially fond of old writers and borrowed
unconsciously from the style of Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_ and from
Browne's _Religio Medici_ and from the early English dramatists. But this
style had become a part of Lamb by long reading, and he was apparently
unable to express his new thought without using their old quaint
expressions. Though these essays are all criticisms or appreciations of the
life of his age, they are all intensely personal. In other words, they are
an excellent picture of Lamb and of humanity. Without a trace of vanity or
self-assertion, Lamb begins with himself, with some purely personal mood or
experience, and from this he leads the reader to see life and literature as
he saw it. It is this wonderful combination of personal and universal
interests, together with Lamb's rare old style and quaint humor, which make
the essays remarkable. They continue the best tradition of Addison and
Steele, our first great essayists; but their sympathies are broader and
deeper, and their humor more delicious than any which preceded them.
THOMAS DE QUINCY (1785-1859)
In De Quincey the romantic element is even more strongly developed than in
Lamb, not only in his critical work, but also in his erratic and
imaginative life. He was profoundly educated, even more so than Coleridge,
and was one of the keenest intellects of the age; yet his wonderful
intellect seems always subordinate to his passion for dreaming. Like Lamb,
he was a friend and associate of the Lake poets, making his headquarters in
Wordsworth's old cottage at Grasmere for nearly twenty years. Here the
resemblance ceases, and a marked contrast begins. As a man, Lamb is the
most human and lovable of all our essayists; while De Quincey is the most
uncanny and incomprehensible. Lamb's modest works breathe the two essential
qualities of sympathy and humor; the greater number of De Quincey's essays,