no

"In the religion of the Hindoos, which of all false religions is the most monstrous in its fables, and the most fatal in its effects, there is one remarkable peculiarity. Prayers, penances, and sacrifices are supposed to possess an inherent and actual value, in degree depending upon the disposition or motive of the person who performs them. They are drafts upon Heaven, for which the Gods cannot refuse payment. The worst men, bent upon the worst designs, have in this manner obtained power which has made them formidable to the Supreme Deities themselves, and rendered an Avatar, or Incarnation of Veeshnoo the Preserver, necessary. This belief is the foundation of the following poem. The story is original; but, in all its parts, consistent with the superstition upon which it is built and however startling the fictions may appear, they might almost be called credible when compared with the genuine tales of Hindoo mythology."-From Southey's Preface.

The poem takes its name from the following curse which Kehama, an Indian rajah, or king, pronounces upon the murderer of his son Arvalan :

406.

ODE WRITTEN DURING THE NEGOTIATIONS

WITH BUONAPARTE

Dowden characterizes this ode as "perhaps the loftiest chant of political invective, inspired by moral indignation, which our literature possesses. Southey stood erect in the presence of power which he believed to be immoral, defied it and execrated it. That he did not perceive how, in driving the ploughshare of Revolution across Europe of the old régime Napoleon was terribly accomplishing an inevitable and a beneficent work, may have been an error; but it was an error to which no blame attaches, and in his fierce indictment he states, with ample support of facts, one entire side of the case. The ode is indeed more than a poem; it is a historical document expressing the passion which filled many of the highest minds in England, and which at a later date was the justification of Saint Helena."-In Introduction to Poems by Robert Southey (Golden Treasury ed.).

1 Robert Stewart (1769-1822), Viscount Castlereagh and Earl of Londonderry, a British statesman. See note on Lines Written during the Castlereagh Administration, p. 1332b.

408.

409.

410.

MY DAYS AMONG THE DEAD ARE PAST

This poem is sometimes entitled The Scholar and In a Library. According to Cuthbert Southey (Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, 1849), Wordsworth once remarked that these lines possessed a peculiar interest as a most true and touching representation of Southey's character. Southey's library contained nearly 14,000 volumes. His son Cuthbert says (work cited): "On some authors, such as the old divines, he 'fed,' as he expressed it, slowly and carefully, dwelling on the page, and taking in its contents deeply and deliberately, like an epicure with his wine, 'searching the subtle flavor.'

For a considerable time after he had ceased to compose, he took pleasure in reading, and

EDITIONS

A VISION OF JUDGMENT

This is the poem which inspired Byron's more famous The Vision of Judgment. (See p. 613 and note p. 1226b.) Southey's poem was written as a tribute to the memory of George III, who died in 1820. In two respects Southey stirred the wrath of the critics: he gave unstinted praise to George III as sovereign and man, and he wrote the poem in dactylic hexameter measure. The incidents of the poem appear to the author in a trance. In the portion of the poem omitted before the selection given here, George III is summoned before the judgment throne where testimony is heard from his accusers and his absolvers. The Spirit of Washington has just stated that George III

"didst act with upright heart, as befitted a sovereign

True to his sacred trust, to his crown, his kingdom, and people."

THE CATARACT OF LODORE

Lodore is a famous cascade in the Derwent River, Cumberlandshire, England. See Gray's description of it in his Journal in the Lakes, Oct. 3, 1769 (p. 74a, 16-46).

The origin of this poem is thus given in a letter by Southey to his brother Thomas, dated Oct. 18, 1809: "I hope

you will approve of a description of the water at

Lodore, made originally for Edith, and greatly admired by Herbert. In my mind it surpasses any that the tourists have yet printed. Thus it runs-Tell the people how the water comes down at Lodore? Why it comes thundering, and floundering, and thumping, and flumping, and bumping, and jumping, and hissing, and whizzing, and dripping, and skipping, and grumbling, and rumbling, and tumbling, and falling, and brawling, and dashing, and clashing, and splashing, and pouring, and roaring,

p. 18

Poetical Works, 2 vols., ed. by B. Dobell (London, Reeves, 1895).

Poetical Works, 2 vols., ed. by D. C. Tovey (Aldine ed. London, Bell, 1897; New York, Macmillan).

Complete Poetical Works, ed. by J. L. Robertson (Oxford Univ. Press, 1908).

The Seasons, The Castle of Indolence, and Other Poems, 2 vols., ed., with a Critical Study by E. Gosse, by H. D. Roberts (Muses' Library ed. London, Routledge, 1906; New York, Dutton).

his descriptions have therefore a distinctness and truth, which are utterly wanting to those of poets who have only copied from each other and have never looked abroad on the objects themselves. Thomson was accustomed to wander away into the country for days and for weeks, attentive to 'each rural sight, each rural sound,' while many a poet who has dwelt for years in the Strand has attempted to describe fields and rivers and generally succeeded accordingly. Hence that nauseous repetition of the same circumstances; hence that disgusting impropriety of introducing what may be called a set of hereditary images, without proper regard to the age or climate or occasion in which they were formerly used. Though the diction of The Seasons is sometimes harsh and inharmonious, and sometimes turgid and obscure, and though in many instances the numbers are not sufficiently diversified by different pauses, yet is this poem on the whole, from the numberless strokes of nature in which it abounds, one of the most captivating and amusing in our language, and which, as its beauties are not of a transitory kind, as depending on particular customs and manners, will ever be perused with delight."-Joseph Warton, in An Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope (1756).

"The Seasons shows that as far as intrinsic worth is concerned the poems are marked with a strange mingling of merits and defects, but that considered in their historical place in the development of the poetry of nature their importance and striking originality can hardly be overstated. Though Thomson talked the language of his day, his thought was a new one. He taught clearly, though without emphasis, the power of nature to quiet the passions and elevate the mind of man, and he intimated a deeper thought of divine immanence in the phenomena of nature. But his great service to the men of his day was that he shut up their books, led them out of their parks, and taught them to look on nature with enthusiasm."-Myra Reynolds, in The Treatment of Nature in English Poetry between Pope and Wordsworth (1896).

The parts of this poem were first published separately in the order-Winter, Summer, Spring, Autumn. They were afterwards arranged in logical order. The poem is reminiscent of Milton and Spenser. That Thomson was consciously at variance with the prevailing school of early 18th century poetry may be seen from the following extract from his Preface to the second edition of Winter (1726): "Nothing can have a better influence towards the revival of poetry than the choosing of great and serious subjects, such as at once amuse the fancy, enlighten the head, and warm the heart. These give a weight and dignity to the poem; nor is the pleasure I should say rapture-both the writer and the reader feels unwarranted by reason or followed by repentant disgust. To

be able to write on a dry, barren theme is looked upon by some as the sign of a happy, fruitful genius :-fruitful indeed! like one of the pendant gardens in Cheapside, watered every morning by the hand of the Alderman himself. And what are we commonly entertained with on these occasions save forced unaffecting fancies, little glittering prettinesses, mixed turns of wit and expression, which are as widely different from native poetry as buffoonery is from the perfection of human thinking? A genius fired with the charms of truth and nature is tuned to a sublimer pitch, and scorns to associate with such subjects.

"I know no subject more elevating, more amusing; more ready to awake the poetical enthusiasm, the philosophical reflection, and the moral sentiment, than the works of nature. Where can we meet with such variety, such beauty, such magnificence? All that enlarges and transports the soul! What more inspiring than a calm, wide survey of them? In every dress nature is greatly charming

whether she puts on the crimson robes of the morning, the strong effulgence of noon, the sober suit of the evening, or the deep sables of blackness and tempest! How gay looks the spring! how glorious the summer! how pleasing the autumn! and how venerable the winter-But there is no thinking of these things without breaking out into poetry; which is, by-the-by, a plain and undeniable argument of their superior excellence.

"For this reason the best, both ancient, and modern, poets have been passionately fond of retirement, and solitude. The wild romantic country was their delight And they seem never to have been more happy, than when, lost in unfrequented fields, far from the little busy world, they were at leisure, to meditate, and sing the works of nature." 19a. Note. For an account of the conditions in jails and prisons in the early 18th century, see Lecky's A History of England in the Eighteenth Century (New York, Appleton, 1887). 6, 255ff.

22. 1004-29. With these lines cf. the following lyric from Tennyson's The Princess, 4, 21-40:

The following account of the story is from. Walpole's Preface to the first edition (1765):

"The following work was found in the "library of an ancient Catholic family in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written does not appear. The principal incidents are such as were believed in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the language and conduct have nothing that savors of barbarism. The style is the purest Italian. . .

"If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have happened, it must have been between 1095, the era of the first Crusade, and 1243, the date of the last, or not long afterwards. There is no other circumstance in the work that can lead us to guess at the period in which the scene is laid the names of the actors are evidently fictitious, and probably disguised on purpose. . . .

"Miracles, visions, necromancy, dreams, and other preternatural events, are exploded now even from romances. That was not the case when our author wrote; much less when the. story itself is supposed to have happened. Belief in every kind of prodigy was so established in those dark ages, that an author would not be faithful to the manners of the times, who would omit all mention of them. He is not bound to believe them himself, but he must represent his actors as believing them.

"If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will find nothing else unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibility of the facts, and all the actors comport themselves as persons would do in their situation. There is no bombast, no similes, flowers, digressions, or unnecessary descriptions. Everything tends directly to the catastrophe. Never is the reader's attention relaxed. The rules of the drama are almost observed throughout the conduct of the piece. The characters are well drawn, and still better maintained. Terror, the author's principal engine, prevents the story from ever languishing; and it is so often contrasted by pity, that the mind is kept up in a constant vicissitude of interesting passions. .

"Though the machinery is invention, and the names of the actors imaginary, I cannot but believe that the groundwork of the story is founded on truth. The scene is undoubtedly laid in some real castle. The author seems frequently, without design, to describe particular parts. "The chamber,' says he, 'on the right hand;' 'the door on the left hand;' 'the distance from the chapel to Conrad's apartment; these and other passages are strong presumptions that the author had some certain building in his eye. Curious persons, who have leisure to employ in such researches, may possibly discover in the Italian writers the foundation on which our author has built. If a catastrophe, at all

resembling that which he describes, is believed to have given rise to this work, it will contribute to interest the reader, and will make The Castle of Otranto a still more moving story."

Walpole acknowledged the authorship of the story, in the Preface to the second edition (1765), and gave further comment on the work, as follows: "It was an attempt to blend the two kinds of romance, the ancient and the modern. In the former, all was imagination and improbability; in the latter, nature is always intended to be, and sometimes has been, copied with success. Invention has not been wanting, but the great resources of fancy have been dammed up by a strict adherence to common life."

The origin of the romance is given by Walpole in a Letter to the Rev. William Cole, dated March 9, 1765: "I had time to write but a short note with The Castle of Otranto, as your messenger called on me at four o'clock, as I was going to dine abroad. Your partiality to me and Strawberry have, I hope, Inclined you to excuse the wildness of the story. You will even have found some traits to put you in mind of this place. When you read of the picture quitting its panel, did not you recollect the portrait of Lord Falkland, all in white, in my gallery? Shall I even confess to you, what was the origin of this romance! I waked one morning, in the beginning of last June, from a dream, of which, all I could recover was that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story), and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armor. In the evening I sat down, and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew fond of it-add that I was very glad to think of anything, rather than politics. In short, I was so engrossed with my tale, which I completed in less than two months, that one evening I wrote from the time I had drunk my tea, about six o'clock, till half an hour after one in the morning, when my hand and fingers were so weary that I could not hold the pen to finish the sentence, but left Matilda and Isabella talking, in the middle of a paragraph. You will laugh at my earnestness; but if I have amused you by retracing with any fidelity the manners of ancient days. I am content, and give you leave to think me as idle as you please."

JOSEPH WARTON (1722-1800), p. 80

EDITIONS

Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, 2 vols. (1765-82; London, Cadell, 1806).

BIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM Chalmers, A.: The Life of Dr. Joseph Warton,

in Chalmers's English Poets (London, 1810).