BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Some works of interest in connection with the introductory matter in this chapter are Naturalism in England, Vol. IV of Georg Brandes's series Main Currents in Nineteenth-Century Literature; Orestes A. Brownson's Works, Vol. IX, Scientific Theories; the chapters on naturalism in Stuart Pratt Sherman's treatise On Contemporary Literature; the article in the Catholic Encyclopædia, "Science and the Church," by J. G. Hagen; "Christianity and Physical Science," from Newman's Idea of a University; "Agnosticism," from the essays of J. L. Spalding; Philosophy of Literature, by Brother Azarias; the article in The Month for December, 1922, by A. L. Cortie, "Does Revelation fetter Science?" One might add to the naturalists here considered: John C. Van Dyke, for his Nature for its Own Sake; Henry van Dyke, for his Fisherman's Luck; Hamilton Wright Mabie, for his Under the Trees and Elsewhere; Charles Warren Stoddard, for his South Sea Idylls; William Hamilton Gibson, Charles Conrad Abbott, Olive Thorne Miller, Bradford Torrey, Florence M. Bailey, and Frank Bolles.

CHAPTER IX

THE FAMILIAR ESSAY

Myselfe am the groundworke of my booke.-MONTAIGNE

BACKGROUND

Fairy lore relates that the dear and gracious familiar essay, daughter of Lord Michel de Montaigne, into whose ear she whispered naïve inspiration while she guided in writing his clumsy hand by her own dainty one, was afflicted by such grief on the occasion of her father's death that she fell into a trance. Her slumber lasted through centuries. And many were the knights from the fine old literary families in various countries who journeyed to la belle France and tried to awaken the sleeping maiden. Sometimes a knight would so nearly succeed that she smiled and stirred in her sleep, and the knight would depart empowered by her spirit to wield his pen valiantly. Finally, as the fairy tale goes, came the prince of the maimed body and of the beautiful soul, at whose touch she awakened to give him all her graces and her lovely self. What a different world from that she had known in her father's day now greeted her eager eyes!

To describe the social life of the nineteenth century would require the proportions of a volume. Perhaps

we may justifiably term the great political upheavals, the leveling of class distinctions, the emancipation of slaves, the struggle for freedom of the seas, as the labor of the world at the birth of liberty. In the England of Charles Lamb oppression was reduced to system, and it is easy to imagine the influence of this unpleasant state of affairs on the writers of the day who, becoming either "reactionary supporters" of existing conditions or emancipators, made their literary influence felt in political matters. The ideal of liberty was kept ever before the public, and the dignity of the common man was brought home to him and to his oppressor. Romanticism in literature, truly the handmaiden to democracy, bridged over the chasm between the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and the English Reform Bill of 1852; romanticism gone mad led the French revolutionists; romanticism wove its messages into the flames of the fire before which Lincoln dreamed the dreams of his young manhood; romanticism-if this is not saying too much-led us into the World War. Through the whole of the last century romanticism has been warning us that the hills must be laid low and the valleys filled up, for democracy is now to draw all things after her as she walks across the world.

We must bear in mind, however, that the nineteenth century, despite its struggles, was a period of material well-being in England. There was a leisured class who enjoyed literature and encouraged literary production; England was rich in an unequaled literary heritage from the great writers of the eighteenth century; education had become widespread among the masses; there

was much to think about and write about—and thus the times were indeed ripe for the coming of the latest and most dear of all literary forms, the irrepressible, irresponsible, most highly endowed familiar essay.

DEFINITION

The familiar essayist is a veritable Jaques upon a mossy bank, who, while he watches the world go jostling its way down the river of life, extracts from its seemingly confused and meaningless tumbling bits of loving wisdom and quaint chuckles of fun, holds out his hands to catch the rainbow sprays of charity that rise from its journeying, drinks into his heart the world's grief and sweetens the bitterness of its sorrow, and then makes the whole into a tender little monologue-essay which he gives back to the world to soothe the pains of its tired travel Every beggared hope and little wayworn dream comes unashamed to ask his help, for he is very wise and tender; and when it has gone back refreshed to the heart in which it was born, lo, its spirit is immortalized in his essay. Indulging sentiment and fancy without restraint, now whimsical, now grave, now melancholy, he plays with his subject; he is, in turn, grotesque, eloquent, pathetic; always a bit boyish in his love of living, in his quick sense of the ridiculous, he is very much a humorist, a real fun-maker. Writing his monologue with perfect freedom, he is intimately personal, and in the constant revelation of himself lies his charm. Very often he relates his own experiences, analyzes himself, and makes confessions, taking advantage of the fact that there are three universally

interesting subjects, "I," and "you," and "the other person." He says to the unsuspecting reader, "I want to confide in you," and is immediately sure of sympathetic understanding. Then he talks about the problems of life, and the reader is piqued into selfcomplacency because he is sure that he could advise the essayist if the two of them could but meet in person. Or perhaps the essayist is a discoverer of the commonplace: everybody rides on trains, lies in bed of mornings, wears a nose which he guards tenderly though he has not chosen its shape, takes "Saturday-night baths." To these common things he gives side-splitting, rejuvenating immortality in single short essays. Then, with what lyric ecstasy can the familiar essayist speak nature's "various language." Finally, he may express to his reader some general observations and opinions, perhaps asking him to consider old ideas from a new angle. The familiar essay is the most charming vehicle in which fun may ride, for its author laughs with his reader, never at him. His humor is the sympathetic perception of those ridiculous and pathetic incongruities which are such a necessary part of life. We observed that there is but one requirement for the literary essayist, the gift of style, and the observation applies here: style is the man; the man is the essayist; the essayistat work is the embodiment of all our kind, sweet humanness. With all the resources of narration and description at his disposal, with liberties not permitted to other writers, he must yet keep some central idea to unify his writing, some golden thread to guide him through the labyrinthine ways of fancy. This is his one restriction.