A History of English Romanticism in the Nineteenth Century

ies and

cause classes and callings were so sharply differentiated-each with its own characteristic manners, dialect, dress-that the surface of society presented a rich variety of colour, in contrast with the drab uniformity of modern life. Perhaps to Scott the ideal life was that of a feudal baron, dwelling in a Gothic mansion, surrounded by retainers and guests, keeping open house, and going a-hunting; and he tried to realise this ideal-so far as it was possible under modern conditions-at Abbotsford. He respected rank and pedigree, and liked to own land. He was a Tory and, in Presbyterian Scotland, he was an Episcopalian. But his mediaeval enthusiasms were checked by all kinds of good sense. He had no wish to restore media

s no artist by nature, but a man of pietistic feelings who had "thrown himself into the Gothic revival which was, under the Oxford movement, threatening to become a serious antagonist to our present freedom from clerical domination." Scott adds that the master of this glass-making establishment was an uncultivated tradesman, who yet had the business shrewdness to take advantage of "the clerical and architectural proclivities of the day," and had visited and studied the French cathedrals. "These w

uence of Walter Scott, who turned men's minds to the direction of the Middle Ages. 'The general need,' I said, 'of something deeper and more attractive than what had offered itself elsewhere may be considered to have led to his popularity; and by means of his popularity he reacted on his readers, stimulating their mental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting before them visions which, when once seen, are not easily forgotten, and silently indoctrinating them with nobler ideas, which might afterwards

arts and lives of its members; and the Oxford movement was in its essence an attempt to reconstruct the English Church in harmony with this romantic ideal. . . . As Scott's imagination was fascinated with the picturesque paraphernalia of feudalism-with its jousts, and courts of love, and its coats of mail and buff-jerkins-so Newman's imagination was captivated by the gorgeous ritual and ceremonial, the art and architecture of mediaeval Christianity. . . . Newman sought to revive in the Church a mediaeval faith in its own divine mission and the intense spiritual consciousness of the Middle Ages; he aimed to restore to religion its mystic

n Hughes' "Tom Brown at Oxford" represents the Puseyite set. Miss Yonge's "Heir of Redcliffe" and Shorthouse's "John Inglesant" are surcharged with High-Church sentiment. Newman said that Keble made the Church of England poetical. "The author of 'The Christian Year' found the Anglican system all but destitute of this divine element [poetry]; . . . vestments chucked off, lights quenched, jewels stolen, the pomp and circumstances of worship annihilated; . . . the royal arms for the crucifix; huge ugly boxes of wood, sacred to preachers, frowning on the congregation in place of the mysterious altar; and long cathedral aisles unused, railed off, like the tombs (as they were) of what had been and was not." [5] Newman praises in "The Christian Year" what he calls its "sacramental system"; and t

e to asceticism. Mozley says that Newman and Hurrell Froude induced several of the Oriel fellows to discontinue the use of wine in the common room. "When I came up at Easter, 1825, one of the first standing jokes against the college all over the university was the Oriel tea-pot." [6] Dean Church testifies to the plainness of the services at St. Mary's.[7] Aubrey de Vere reports his urging Newman to make an expedition with him among the Wicklow Mountains, and the latter'

is having a chapel restored in pure fourteenth-century style and dedicated to the Royal Martyr. He is going to convert the chapel into a chantry, and has bought land about it for a cemetery, which is to be decorated with mediaeval monuments in sculpture and painting copied from the frescoes in the Campo Santo at Pisa, of which he has a portfolio full of drawings. "It will be quite sweet," he says, "to hear the vesper-bell tolling over the sullen moor every evening." Then there is White, a weak young aesthete who shocks the com

Newman's associates; of Hurrell Froude, e.g., and of Ward. When Pugin came to Oxford in 1840 to superintend some building at Balliol, he saw folio copies of St. Buenaventura and Aquinas' "Summa Theologiae" lying on Ward's table, and exclaimed, "What an extraordinary thing that so glorious a man as Ward should be living in a room without mullions to the windows!" This being reported to Ward, he asked, "What are mullions? I never heard of them." Ward cared nothing about rood-screens and lancet windows; Newman and Faber preferred

val Church, but the primitive Church, the Church of patristic discipline and doctrine, that appealed to the Tractarians. It was the Anglican Church of the seventeenth century, the Church of Andrewes and Herbert and Ken, to which Keble sought to restore the "beauty of holiness"; and those of the Oxford party who remained within the establishment continued true to this ideal. "The Christian Year" is the genuine descendant of George Herbert's "Temple" (1632). What impressed Newman's imagination in the Roman Catholic Church was not so much the romantic beauty of its rites and

ommunions. The most ambitious of these is "The Dream of Gerontius," a sort of mystery play which Sir Henry Taylor used to compare with the "Divine Comedy." Indeed, none but Dante has more poignantly expressed the purgatorial pa

y, and in th

let

pe the lone nig

t for m

y was inspired by the ideal of knighthood, but he emphasises not so much the gallantry of the knight-errant as his religious character as the champion of Holy Church. The book is, loosely speaking, an English "Genié du Christianisme," less brilliantly rhetorical than Chateaubriand, but more sincerely devout. It is poetic and descriptive rather than polemical, though the author constantly expresses his dislike of modern civilisation, and complains with Burke that this is an age of sophists, calculators, and economists. He quotes profusely from German and French reactionaries, like Busching,[14] Fritz Stolberg, G?rres, Friedrich Schlegel, Lamennais, and Joseph de Maistre, and illustrates his topic at every turn from mediaeval chronicles, legendaries, romances, and manuals of chivalry; from the lives of Charlemagne, St. Louis, Godfrey of Bouillon, the Chevalier Bayard, St. Anselm, King Rene, etc., and above all, from the "Morte Darthur." He de

to provide for the love of solitude, of meditation between sombre pillars, of modesty in apartments with the lancet-casement. They were not to study duration and solidity in an age when men were taught to regard the present as their only concern. When nothing but exact knowledge was sought, the undefined sombre arches were to be removed to make way for lines which would proclaim their brevity, and for a blaze of light which might correspond with the mind of those who rejected every proposition that led beyond the reach of the senses. . . . So completely is it beyond the skill of the painter or the poet to render bearable the productions of the moderns, . . . and so fast are the poor neglected works of Christian antiquity falling to ruin, that it is hard to conceive how the fine arts can be cultivated after another century has elapsed; for when children are taught in infant schools to love accounts from their cradle, and to study political economy before they have heard of the Red Cross Knight or the Wild Hunter, the manner and taste o

ival of Gothic architecture which began with Horace Walpole[19] went on in an unintelligent way through the eighteenth century. One of the queerest monuments of this new taste-a successor on a larger scale to Strawberry Hill-was Fonthill Abbey, near Salisbury, that prodigious folly to which Beckford, the eccentric author of "Vathek,

ks like Britton's "Cathedral Antiquities" (1814-35), Milner's "Treatise on Ecclesiastical Architecture" (1811), and Rickman's "Ancient Examples of Gothic Architecture" (1819). The parts of individual buildings, such as Westminster Abbey and Lincoln Cathedral, were carefully studied and illustrated with plans and sections drawn to scale, and measurement was substituted for guesswork. But the real restorer of ecclesiastical Gothic in England was Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, an enthusiast, nay, a fanatic, in the cause; whose "Contrasts" (1836) is not only a landmark in the history of the revival of mediaeval art, but

n denounces alike the Renaissance and the Reformation, "those two monsters, revived Paganism and Protestantism." There is no chance, he thinks, for a successful revival of Gothic except in a return to Catholic faith. "The mechanical part of Gothic architecture is pretty well understood, but it is the principles which influenced ancient compositions, and the soul which appears in all the former works, which is so lamentably deficient. . . . 'Tis they alone that can restore pointed architecture to its former glorious state; without it all that is done will be a tame and heartless copy." He points out the want of sympathy between "these vast edifices" and the Protestant worship, which might as well be carried on in a barn or conventicle or square meeting-house. Hence, the nave has been blocked up with pews, the choir or transept partitioned off to serve as a parish church, roodloft and chancel screen removed, the altar displaced by a table, and the sedilia scattered about in odd corners. The contrast between old and new is strikingly presented, by way of object lessons, in a series of plates, arranged side by side, and

d theatrical trumperies that they have seen in foreign churches. "I do not think," he concludes, "the architecture of our English churches would have fared much better under a Catholic hierarchy. . . . It is a most melancholy truth that there does not exist much sympathy of idea between a great portion of the present Catholic body in England and their glorious ance

nd ignorant far excelled our age in wisdom, that art ceased when it is said to have been revived, that superstition was piety, and bigotry faith." In many of his views Pugin anticipates Ruskin. He did not like St. Peter's at Rome, and said: "If those students who journey to Italy to study art would follow the steps of the great Overbeck,[22] . .

f ornamental detail"; and that he helped importantly in the revival of the mediaeval taste in stained glass, metal work, furniture, carpets, and paper-hangings. Several of his works have to do with various departments of ecclesiology; chancel-screens, roodlofts, church ornaments, symbols and costumes, and the like. But the only

rks of Christian builders, sculptors and painters, both in Italy and north of the Alps, from the time of the Roman catacombs and basilicas down to the Renaissance. It gives likewise a history of Christian mythology, iconography and symbolism; all that great body of popular beliefs about angels, devils, saints, martyrs, anchorites, miracles, etc., which Protestant iconoclasm and the pagan spirit of the cinque-cento had long ago swept into the dust-bin as sheer idolatry and superstition. Lord Lindsay's treatment of these matters is reverential, though his own Protestantism is proof against their charm. His tone is moderate; he has no quarrel with the Renaissance, and professes respect for classical art, which seems to him, howev

n ecclesiastical-"sculpture and painting, on the one hand, and the spirit of chivalry on the other, have usually flourished in an inverse ratio one to the other, and it is not therefore in England, France, or Spain, but among the free cities of Italy and Germany that we must look for their rise." [25] I give these conclusions-so opposite to those of Catholic mediaevalists like Digby and Pugin-because they illustrate the temper of Lindsay's book. One more quotation I will venture

begun in 1842, but issued only in 1848. "Legends of the Monastic Orders" followed in 1850; "Legends of the Madonna" in 1852; and the "History of Our Lord" (completed by Lady Eastlake) in 1860. Mrs. Jameson had an imperfect knowledge of technique,

e style came into fashion. The Cambridge Camden Society was founded in 1839 for the study of church architecture and ritual, and issued the first number of its magazine, The Ecclesiologist, in 1841. But the first national triumph for secula

cinated a public which cared little about art, but knew good literature when they saw it. Eastlake testifies that Ruskin had some practical influence on English building. Young artists went to Venice to study the remains of Italian Gothic, and the results of their studies were seen in the surface treatment of many London facades, especially in the cuspe

ase; the study of classical literature is "pestilent"; and most modern building is the fruit of "the Renaissance poison tree." "If . . . any of my readers should determine . . . to set themselves to the revival of a healthy school of architecture in England, and wish to know in few words how this may be done, the answer is clear and simple. First, let us cast out utterly whatever is connected with the Greek, Roman, or Re

t for modern Romanism. Against the opinion that Gothic architecture was fitted exclusively for ecclesiastical uses, he strongly protested. On the contrary, he advised its reintroduction, especially in domestic building. "Most readers . . . abandon themselves drowsily to the impression that Gothic is a peculiarly ecclesiastical style. . . . The High Church and Romanist parties . . . have willingly promulgated the theory that, because all the good architecture that is now left is expressive of High Church or Romanist doctrines, all good architecture ever has been and must be so-a piece of absurdit

a new creed by the squeak of an organ pipe." If Scott was unclassical, Ruskin was anti-classical. The former would learn no Greek; and the latter complained that Oxford taught him all the Latin and Greek that he would learn, but did not teach him that fritillaries grew in Iffley meadow.[32] Even that fondness for costume which has been made a reproach against Scott finds justification with Ruskin. "The essence of modern romance is simply the return of the heart and fancy to the things in which they naturally take pleasure; and half the influence of the best romances, of 'Ivanhoe,' or 'Marmion,' or 'The Crusaders,' or 'The Lady of the Lake,' is completely dependent upon the accessories of armour and costume." [33] Still Ruskin had the critical good sense to rate such as they b

is not so easy, at first sight, to understand why the same thing should have conducted Ruskin and William Morris to opinions that were more "advanced" than those of the most advanced Liberal. Orthodox economists looked upon the theories put forward in Ruskin's "Unto this Last" (1860), "Munera Pulveris" (1862-63), and "Fors Clavigera" (1871-84), as the eccentricities of a distinguished art critic, disporting himself i

dustry and commerce, organised into guilds of craftsmen and trading corporations, which fixed the prices and quality of goods, the number of apprentices allowed, etc. The manufacturer was not a capitalist, but simply a master workman. Government was paternal and interfered continually with the freedom of contract and the rights of the individual. Here was where Carlyle took issue with modern Liberalism, which proclaims that the best government is that which governs least. According to the laissez-faire doctrine, he said, the work of a government is not that of a father, but of an active parish constable. The duty of a government is to govern, but this theory makes it its duty to refrain from governing. Not liberty is good for men, but obedience and stern discipline under wise rulers, heroes, and heaven-sent kings. Carlyle took no romantic view of the Middle Ages. He is rather contemptuous of Scott's mediaeval-picturesque,[35] and his Scotch Calvinism burns fiercely against the would-be restorers of mediaeval religious formularies and th

as a "new feudalism" with a king at the head of it and a rural nobility of "the great old families," whose relations to their tenantry are not very clearly defined.[39] Ruskin took some steps towards putting into practice his plans for a reorganisation of labour under improved conditions. "Fors Clavigera" consisted of a series of letters to workingmen, inviting them to join him in establishing a fund for rescuing English country

e "Parson Lot"; in some of his ballads like "The Three Fishers"; and in the writings of his friends, F. D. Maurice and Thomas Hughes. But the Christian Socialism of these Broad Churchmen was by no means of the mediaeval type. Kingsley was an exponent of "Muscular Christianity." He hated the asceticism and sacerdotalism of the Oxford set, and challenged the Tractarian movement with all his might.[40] Neither was this Chris

smoke, and blackened English soil and polluted English rivers with their refuse. The railroad had spoiled Venice and vulgarised Switzerland. He would like to tear up all the railroads in Wales and most of those in England, and pull down the city of New York. He could not live in America two months-a country without castles. Modern architecture, modern dress, modern manufactures, modern civilisation, were all utterly hideous. Worst of all was the effect on the workman, condemned by competitive commerci

as they are at this day. It is not that men are ill-fed, but that they have no pleasure in the work by which they make their bread, and therefore look to wealth as the only means of pleasure. It is not that men are pained by the scorn of the upper classes, but they cannot endure their own; for they feel that the kind of labour to which they are condemned is verily a degrading one, and makes them less than men. . . . We have much studied and much perfected, of late, the great civilised invention of the division of labour; only we give it a false name. It is not, truly speaking, the labour that is divided; but the men-divided into mere segments of men-broken into small fragments and crumbs of life, so

s. Morris' ideal society, unlike Ruskin's, included no feudal elements; there was no room in it for kings, or nobles, or great cities, or a centralised government. It was primitive Teutonic rather than mediaeval; resembling the communal type described in "The House of the Wolfings." There were to be no more classes-no rich or poor. To ordinary Socialists the reform means a fairer distribution of the joint product of capital and labour; higher wages for the workingman, shorter hours, better food and more of it, better clothes, better houses, more amusements-in short, "beer and skittles" in reasonable amount. The Socialism of Ruskin

nced individuality; yet, as a whole, it reminds one continually now of Rossetti, now of Morris, and again of Swinburne; not infrequently, too, of Keats or Leigh Hunt, but never of the older romanticism, never of Scott nor even of Coleridge or Tennyson. The reminder comes sometimes through a turn of phrase or the trick of the verse; but more insistently in the choice of subject and the entire attitude of the poet towards art and life, an attitude that may be vaguely described as "aesthetic." Even more distinctly than in Swinburne, English romanticism in these latest representatives is seen to be taking a French direct

were members of the literary circle that assembled at the house of Ford Madox Brown, and there they met the Rossettis, Morris, Swinburne, and William Bell Scott. O'Shaughnessy emerges most distinctly from the group by reason of his very original and exquisite lyrical gift-a gift not fully recognised till Mr. Palgrave accorded him, in the second series of his "Golden Treasury" (1897), a greater number of selections than any Victorian poet but Tennyson: a larger space than he gave e

tory of Rimini." The most remarkable of these pieces is "Chaitivel," in which the body of a bride is carried away by a dead lover, while another dead lover comes back from his grave in Palestine and fights with the bridegroom for possession of her soul. The song which the

ved you well

r winter

have you f

he grave

long kiss a

e was wo

gone to so

e forgot

tain squire of Poitou, who devotes himself to necromancy and discovers a spell in an old Greek manuscript, whereby, having shod his horse with gold and ridden seven days into the west, he comes to the enchanted land of Dame Venus and dwells with her a season. But the

the plac

emory of man

d and hung

-work, jewell'd

ents, in

gables inlaid

y reds a

rner of the

saint d

t eyes, upon t

and shrin

angel, grave

the folk

tes, stood s

nacle an

and the holy vervain "that purgeth earth's desire." Sir Galahad then carries him in a magic boat to the Orient city of Sarras, where the Grail is enshrined and guarded by a company of virgin knights, Percival, Lohengrin, Titurel, and Bors. Sir Floris sees the sacred chalice-a single emerald-lays his nosegay upon the altar, witnesses the mystery of the eucharist, and is kissed upon the mouth by Christ. This poet is fond of introducing old French words "to make his English sweet upon his tongue"; accueillade, valiantise, faineant, allegresse, gentiles

hell, I choo

n. The wild night ride has an o

ams past; they

ps of sou

ts spin, but

upon the

peculiarities of popular minstrelsy, is O'Shaughnessy's weird ballad "

d fearful he

idni

itudinous

yet made fa

l beauty of which the Celtic imagination holds the secret is visible in this lyrist; but it would perhaps be going too far to attribute his int

ies named "Madonna dei Sogni" is particularly full of the imagery and sentiment of the "Purgatorio" and the "Vita Nuova." Several of the sonnets in the collection are written for pictures, like Rossetti's. Two are on Spenserian subjects, "Belphoebe" and "The Garden o

decorative features of Pre-Raphaelite art run into the most bizarre excesses. He wantons in dainty affectations of speech and eccentricities of phantasy. Here we find again the orchard closes, the pleached p

d I was a

ne of Sain

storals. The lady in "The Gallery of Pigeons" sits at her broidery frame and

tracery, ca

goil is her

griffin clings a

d grins in the

ill, the band

the thinnest

ts for the souls in Limbo, or press sweet wine for the sacrament, or illuminate missals wi

them each, b

'd by their

s of crimso

ing soft lik

warm in glim

em to thei

back their

ess like a travesty than the

mine, tha

f summer ath

me whether

eve, or the g

ture grew to be a burden. The artistic movement had invaded dress and upholstery, and Pre-Raphaelitism tapered down into aestheticism, domestic art, and the wearing o

53] But it is the master current which gives tinge and direction to lesser confluents; and romanticism may be said to have had everything its own way down to the middle of the century. Then reaction set in and the stream of romantic tendency ceased to spread itself over the whole li

from actual conditions into an ideal world, which is a note of the romantic spirit in general; and consequently it refuses to find the past any more interesting than the present, and has no use for the Middle Ages. The temperature, too, had cooled; not quite down to the Augustan grade, yet to a point considerably below the fever heat registered by the emotional thermometer of the late Georgian era. Byron's contemporaries were shoc

was a mar

al man wa

othing in

nything to

*

, having s

re her on

ll-conduc

ting bread

as recorded in "Julian and Maddalo." He notices the local traditions about Byron-a window from which one of his mist

of that century, a design which was carried out on other lines by his son-in-law, Leslie Stephen. If he wrote historical novels, their period was that of the Georges, and not of Richard the Lion Heart. It will not do, of course, to lay too much stress on Thackeray, whose profession was satire and whose temper purely anti-romantic. But if we turn to the leaders of the mo

uch to commend in the influence of a literary tribunal like the French Academy, which embodies that ideal of authority so dear to the classical heart. Such an institution acts as a salutary check on the lawlessness, eccentricity, self-will, and fantasticality which are the besetting intellectual sins of Englishmen. It sets the standard and gives the law. "Work done after men have reach

d the whole; we regard the parts. With them the action predominated over the expression of it; with us the expression predominates over the actio

as had the courage (for at the present day it needs courage) to remark, how extremely and faultily difficult Shakspere's language often is." Half a century earlier it would have needed courage to question Hallam's remark; but the citation shows how thoroughly Coleridge and Hazlitt and Lamb had shifted the centre of orthodoxy in matters of Shaksperian criticism. Now the presumption was against any one who ventured a doub

Sophocles. But the action, the story? The action in itself is an excellent one; but so feebly is it conceived by the poet, so loosely constructed, that the effect produced by it, in and for itself, is absolutely null. Let the reader, after he has finished the poem of

of Germany lost itself in the Middle Ages, was overpowered by their influence, came to ruin by its vain dreams of renewing them. Heine, with a far profounder sense of the mystic and romantic charm of the Middle Age than G?rres, or Brentano, or Arnim; Heine, the chief r

ey seemed eminently modern and prosaic, while buff jerkins and coats of mail were poetically remote. But so the whirligig of time brings in its revenges, and the old-fashioned, as distinguished from the antique, begins to have a romanticness of its own. It is now some quarter century since people took to building Queen Anne cottages, and gentlemen at costume parties to treading minuets in small clothes and perukes, with ladies in high-cushioned hair and farthingales. Girl babies in large numbers were baptised Dorothy and Belinda. Book illustrators like Kate Greenaway, Edwin Abbey, and Hugh Thomson carried the mode into art. The date of the Queen Anne revival in literature and the beginning

critical battle was fought in the time of Bowles and Byron; the question of his real place in literature, and of h

ay your Worst

ste, his Natu

Artifice-I a

u seen such a

seen a Parterre

litter like hi

how, among your

opy and so m

ine, in all our

enchant and a S

love the old

rtesies and f

ng the finish

lutter and the

Couplet as Co

atire sparklin

athos and unma

for Polish-and

the works for which it is directly responsible, the romantic movement had enriched the blood of the literature, and its results are seen even in writings hostile to the romantic principles. As to the absolute value of the great romantic output of the nineteenth century, it may be at once acknowledged that, as "human documents," books which reflect contemporary life have a

ol. i., p

a pro Vita S

It is curious to compare this tale of the early martyrs, Newman's solitary essay in historical romance, with "Hypatia." It has the intellectual refinement of everything that came from its author's pen; and

from Newman," by Lewis G. Gates, New

itical and His

es," Thomas Mozl

ters of Dean Chur

s of Aubrey de Ve

ts," and that on "The Gospel Palaces." In the latter he writes, speaking of the cathedrals: "Unhappy they who, while they

r Renaissance over Gothic, and the churches built

and the Oxford Movement,

ollection

in 1845, and became Superior of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri, was a religi

rzeit und R

vol. i.,

i., p. 44

id., pp

bid.,

chap. vii., "The

n 1822, is given in Fergusson's "History of Mod

w York University in Washington Square, built in the thirties. This is the "Chrysalis College" which Theodore Winthrop ridicules in "Cecil Dreeme" for i

e supra,

Perhaps this was necessary and inevitable. If we would repair the column, we must cut away the ivy that clings around the shaft, the flowers and brushwood that conceal the base; but it does not fo

364, note; and v

bid.,

de supr

d., p. 2

ce," vol. ii., p. 29

, vol. iii

vol. ii.,

"Praeterita" for an extended eu

t white, what pu

arvest of th

m, down by San

Arnold, "

f Venice," vol

., vol. i

de supr

to be-what, in the name of God, does he believe God to be?-and discerns that all worship of God is a scenic phantasmagory of w

, Book iv.

yle's 'Past and Present,'" says his biographer, "stood alo

political philosophy, the reader should consult "John

supra, pp.

with 1854, Ruskin taught drawing class

eristics" and "Si

e supra,

xv., xvi. Morris reprinted the who

Poets," chap.

of France" (1872); "Music and Moonligh

ios" (1871); "Songs of Life and Death" (18

lery of Pig

By Louise Chandler-Moulton,

y's metrical originality is undoubted. But one of his finest lyrics, "The Fountain of

l the place i

lamenting

ho come liv

eir hopes and

s-like shadows

that cover

he gloom spr

ul Fountain

of May Margaret," "The Westward Sailing," and "The Bal

An Epic o

as always in its heart rather Romantic, and that the Romantic has always, at its best, been just a little classical. . . . But such observations are only of use as guards against a too wooden and matter-of

supra, p

o the Memory of Mr

E

IOGR

m. "Irish Songs a

w York

im von. Selections

tur." Stuttgart,

achim [and Brent

baden and Leipzig

"Essays in Critic

y of Celtic Litera

. London, 1

ragments from Ger

on,

"Les Contes Drolati

he Vicar of Morwens

New Yor

Edward Burne-Jon

Fin du Classici

duction and Life in

ndon, 180

ks. (Gilfillan's e

vo

for pamphlets in

ivina Comedia." (Tr

vo

ys on German Literat

C. "Die Hauptstr?m

hrhunderts." (Tran

vo

muel Taylor Coleri

ol." (Trans.)

of Erceldoune.

Selections in Koch'

Stuttgart, 18

See

[and T. W. Rollest

ry." New Y

nd. "A Manual of th

(Trans.) Ne

Gordon, Lord. Wor

v

collections of Dant

on,

Specimens of the Br

8

Works. London,

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Vision of Dante." (T

comte F. A. R. de

(Trans.) Phil

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New York, 1

"Illustrations of Ten

ats." (English Men

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e Liberal Movement i

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Development of t

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"Ballads and Son

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"Poems on Several

. 2

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on,

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nt Ballads of Spain

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Baron de la Motte.

Tales." (Trans.

Ring." (Trans.)

e Icelander." (Tra

8

lections from Newma

nd Appreciations

"Histoire du Roman

Selections in Koch'

Stuttgart, 18

om Shakespere to P

., and Wilhelm K.

ondon, 188

he Romantic School

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"The Forest Love

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Ruskin, Social Ref

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"The Pre-Raphae

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vo

"Deirdrè."

ntisme et l'Editeur

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"Hereward, the La

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Life of William Mo

tudies in Mediaeval

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Bax]. "Socialis

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vo

DE

t, T

Humey

on, J

ais,

rth, The, 12,

nd Gegen

ra, Th

', 139, 141-

Wm., 258, 3

he Brave

Lock

f Gaul,

tch, The

er, The, 48,

y and Romance

ish Ballads,

Poet

Romantiq

ony,

, The, 31

ciati

vico, 91, 104

inrich,

n, 134, 138, 15

255, 256, 263,

8, 398-

's Tom

's Knig

of Poe

eusis

eum, T

et Nico

rtmann

Comtesse

Sarah,

que Va

t, Wal

d Balan,

f a Nun,

f Dead L

Judas Is

à la L

Sonnets (R

Irish Chi

Honoré

Noire,

Other Poem

Théodore

P. A. P

e Gael and

Andrea

e, Chas.,

E. B.

trix, 291

rd, Wm

, La, 86, 118, 119, 1

Hector,

d, A.,

nri. See

teraria, 48,

avere

Sir Richa

e, W

, The, 285, 301

oset, T

ensta

Giovanni, 9

, W. L

, Sir J

Henry,

H., 139, 1

s, 50-55, 75

134, 138, 141, 147,

7,

riermain, T

elude, The

of Honour,

Stopford

, F.

f Bodsbec

Elizabeth

bert, 190, 2

n, Robe

the Dream, T

83, 133, 144,

, Les, 22

Edmun

285, 304, 305, 309,

Lord, 8, 9, 26, 53

, 171, 192, 195, 19

, 3

l, 279, 296,

Barca, Pedro, 1

dore

ta, 35

ey, C.

Thomas, 64

nero,

35, 39, 92, 103, 110

71, 335, 381, 38

nry F.,

y the Se

Otranto,

Dree

tive

er, Al

Burgrave,

de, 90, 176, 191, 2

os., 52, 54, 8

frey, 93, 315

thes and

e la Table R

ld, 70, 73,

Rolan

7, 49, 53, 54, 75

Year, Th

as Caro

e of the

Mar

of Granad

the Hearth,

12-14, 27, 48-63, 7

, l59, 168, 291,

J. Churto

Jas., 284

Sidney,

Alarco

gal

Angleterre,

ur Littéra

of Venice

Bizar

Drolati

ts, 368

Gismon

pe, W.

Wm., 5

. C., 253

l, 90,

W. L.,

0, 90-113, 122, 282

362

his Circle

at Ver

ossetti (Sharp)

s Drea

die, Th

osalee

Sir Ge

, Jno.,

am, The

e. de Sombre

The, 123, 1

ere, The, 275, 29

Poetry (S

drè,

n: an Od

, Eugène,

cey, Th

he English Novel

Eugène,

Memory of Mr. Al

Irae,

lm H., 319,

f the Three

, 92-99, 102, 103,

10, 36

s, Th

Sydney,

Austin,

lvaro

héophile,

xote, 1

Gerontius

John Ball

o., 117, 1

ourgogne,

lexandre

ht, 152, 153,

The, 237, 238, 315

390

logist,

, Th

Bower

ff, Josep

Century Vig

nd Wud,

, The

R. W., 16

121, 126

cotch Reviewers, 26

ontempora

, 27

Romance

Women,

hidion,

s Rosenkranz

ng, Th

, Wm.,

da, José

ic Poetry (

udies (Swinbu

terature (Boyesen),

e Picturesqu

The, 85, 107, 12

John, The

Mark, The

F. W.,

eene, The

es, T

Ine

the South of Irel

horn, T

dies of Men

asio

78, 191,

the Poets

Sir Samu

, J. G

assicisme

R., 24

overs, T

igera, 38

of Tears,

6, 139, 140, 153, 162,

nets (Bowles

m German Pros

Jno.

spere to

igeons, The,

and Lyn

de la

E., 129,

oétique

167, 176-81, 183-8

219, 221-25,

, 235

sme, Le, 90, 176, 2

mour, The

, Th

elists (Ro

and Poetry (L

mance (Ca

emme Lib

ry Virgin, The

nlas,

Le, 2

t, Th

Market,

iva

olfgang, 5, 92,

Legend,

easury, T

Wings

th, Oli

h, 138, 147,

Edmun

rlichingen,

J. D.,

and Wm., 154,

ady Char

Henry,

slande,

iknu

he Daunt

Well, 1

nn, Ger

R. S.,

, Nathani

, Wm.,

n the Floo

lothian, The

-38, 139-41, 144, 1

170

on Ofterdi

edcliffe,

llyn,

III.

Tragedy,

d the W

H., 12, 24

186, 18

hip, 103,

ines kunstliebenden K

Maurice

on, T.

sme (Gautier), 176-

195-98

antisme en Fran

France (Mic

iterature (S

sh Literature, A

Literature, A (Tick

f the Cru

e Swiss Confe

Perez

Jas.,

ross D

Rit, L',

hos., 2

Life, The

olfings, The,

W. D.,

has. and

Arthur

Thomas.,

ran?ois

, 90, 137, 173, 17

1, 224, 226, 247,

8,

49, 105-13, 118, 1

3, 284, 288-90,

Richar

n, R.

as,

o the N

tia,

(Keats)

(Longfe

e King, 268-

ns of Tenny

nsero

f Spenser (

96, 99,

glio

Washin

123-25, 30

36, 39, 40,

, Anna,

Francis

ny,

nglesa

des Dé

culative Philo

the Blue Dist

, P.

, R.

olvin),

82, 85, 86, 107, 11

299, 300, 306, 307

0,

no., 292

Ravelston

J. F.,

. P.,

eny,

Hausm?rch

thur's

air, The,

., 279-81, 292

gedy, The,

derhorn, D

d the Devil, The,

s Grave

?chter,

a Kh

, The, 365, 271

ake, The, 19,

e Decline of

, 117

, 20, 27, 53, 54,

Andr

a,

neris,

rown Rosary,

rel, The, 3, 5, 11, 2

Ancient

France,

he Wester

es done int

of the

133, 144,

, The

Creuzé

hivalry and

monology and

Dupuis et C

G., 77, 83

in English Lite

of Jason, The,

ers of Dean C

is, The (Mackail), 3

he World,

A. W. C

a Bust of

niscences (De

Romance of Nort

Europe, The

5, 7, 9, 11, 22,

ine,

105, 109, 164, 167,

e Isles, T

zacci

d Isabella

d Gain,

, 86

Enough,

udrun, The,

0, 82, 93, 116,

nde,

Edenhall

i, Di

nocenti

allads, 1

on, The,

, T. B.,

., 315, 320,

lin, E.

oc,

f the M

nck, Mau

f Verdun,

n-Mere, The,

L., 33,

P. H.,

os., 270, 272,

red,

J. C.,

Alessan

n (Tie

France,

nlied

Falie

Delor

15, 23, 29

rs, L

phile, 285, 38

een Bersabe,

Shadows, T

, J. W.,

Prosper

d, J.

et, Ju

s, The (Ha

283-85, 287, 2

o., 93, 10

ent and Modern (

ttish Border, 21, 22,

ers, 6, 10,

tholici,

e Maggi

32, 237, 275, 285,

, 350, 380,

y), 106, 270, 273, 3

hur (Tennys

l, Wm., 2

y, T.

Johann

Pulve

an?aise

ter, The,

de, 180, 189,

r, H.

s of Udo

Célestin,

hic, The, 321

de, 190-92, 196

ward a Critic

, 292, 319, 3

where, 317,

ied, The, 1

, Chas

ntiquities

n Mytho

Paris, 178,

7, 148, 152, 164

a Dead

Grecian

he West

es (Hugo), 176

ies Diverses

ey, T

e Dane,

ic Roman

rs at Flo

ity, 31, 3

Berkeley, T

ant,

g into Chapman'

265, 3

ales,

urioso, 9

sy, Arthur,

n, 20

, F. T.,

of Englan

dise

and Plain

s, T.

pex of

Present

Walter,

Jno.,

Chas., 194

3, 54, 57, 74,

a, Fran

tasu

the Clou

., 162, 163,

Swinburne), 296, 33

Romances (

y the W

Poetry of

for the P

Sir Frede

, 52-54, 56, 63

it, Th

rita,

romwell, 182

litism (Ru

r Uvedale

nch Literatur

hur (Black

es Sots,

s, The,

Matth

f Dante, T

in Porc

che

, A.

., 360, 361, 3

, E.

torio

nnevar's

Hall, 8

n Ma

ake, The,

Durwar

ancgreall, The

Sangreal, The

eron

spere, 38, 186

Anne, 41,

l, 309,

, The

, Cha

and Ro

érovingi

. Rossetti (Caine), 2

t English Poetry,

243

nces (Moz

se, 8

, J. P.

edemption

Duchess May,

Duke

on, J.

s, Ch

use, Le,

eby

General, T

rique, Le,

hule, Die (Hei

f the Pag

Mountains,

rtinez d

nd, 34

ueen of the

, Wm.,

W. S

y, 263,

ristina, 82,

, 228, 258, 262, 263

3, 324, 340, 343, 3

i, Gabr

i, Mari

, W. M.,

erg, T

0, 284, 286-89, 29

72, 375-80,

Legendary A

Agne

Branda

Doroth

ick's Purg

50, 118, 183, l84, 2

gedy, The,

idge und die Englis

77,

, Wm.,

J. C. F.

, 140, 144, 145, 15

192

, 135, 137, 148, 151,

-47, 49, 50, 52, 53,

, 127, 129, 136, 158

226, 232, 243, 246

321, 323, 329, 352

7,

292, 293, 30

from Newm

d, An

p, J.

Bridal,

, Wm., 21

m., 291,

, 101, 102, 120, 232-

glish Literature, A

395

use, J.

ies (Higgi

, Jno.,

and Guiscar

the Vol

, G. A

ompanions, 153, 1

oris,

(Morris),

(Tennyson),

nd Queen Guini

ristr

len, 311,

, The,

e, R. de

Christian

d Poetry

Beauty,

Charl

alis

ast of Brougha

he Wester

Saint Pau

f Werther

t, 50, 51, 55,

n Induction t

of German

Gothic Arch

3, 4, 93, 107, 12

134, 139, 141-

and Sc

E. C.,

36-38, 186, 18

Leslie, 1

's Wander

son, R

Whitley,

F. L., Cou

ice, 321, 375

the Italian

The, 105-07, 11

Casper and the Fa

Salamanca

d Apprecia

iaeval Life an

ic Literature

be, L

lood, The,

75, 276, 296, 304,

51,

lk (Cole

Turned,

alen, The

ng Constan

of Won

, The, 2

153, 160,

, Th

rquato, 9

, Edga

Wm., 53,

in Cyprus

257, 260, 262, 264

347

W. M., 39

the Dest

ritus

ugustin, 3

the R

u, H.

Benjam

d One Night

ardic T

ishers,

sis,

Geo., 242

134, 137, 148, 15

245

, Mar

n Abbe

r, Jno.,

n at Oxf

e Times, 292,

f Irish Po

seult (Arnold)

onesse (Swinbu

d Isolde (W

Tow

of Pointed Archi

en Towers,

cari, T

ig, 140, 154

ume,

ine

his La

, Jul

y Fai

hek

de, 259, 260,

ious Occasion

e Glocke,

n Poets,

es in R

, Comte de,

?ois, 298, 2

Judgment

a, 101, 299,

chen (Ti

Saga, The

. M. A. de,

atische Kunst und Lit

162

J.H.

Maeldune

W. H., 134,

hard, 153,

admo

t la Princesse

W. G

, 61, 63, 64,

27, 57, 60, 6

Lady,

ondrous Isles,

Theod

, The, 30-39, 3

River,

f Tirawley

arias, 148,

od, Th

f Rylstone,

ip, The,

ard and the Oxfo

p, Theo

nguages of In

ftslehre (

f Fife,

the World, T

r, Tho

12, 14-20, 48, 50-

333, 355

Revis

st,

, J.

harlotte

e Stori

oly

ring,

r Einsiedl

a, José