PR 5059 
 .M45 Z7 
 Copy 1 
 
 LORD MORLEY'S CRITICISM OF 
 ENGLISH POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 A DISSERTATION 
 
 presented to the 
 
 Faculty of Princeton University 
 
 IN Candidacy for the Degree of 
 
 Doctor of Philosophy 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES DOW McCALLUM 
 
LORD MORLEY'S CRITICISM OF 
 ENGLISH POETRY AND PROSE 
 
 A DISSERTATION 
 
 presented to the 
 
 Faculty of Princeton University 
 
 IN Candidacy for the Degree of 
 
 Doctor of Philosophy 
 
 BY 
 JAMES DOW McCALLUM 
 
 \ 
 
 ^V• 
 

 
 ACCEPTED JUNE, I92I 
 BY THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH 
 
 3|ft 
 UP Je ifigi 
 
CHAPTER I 
 MORLEY'S CRITICISM OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 During the last half of the nineteenth century a new type 
 of literary criticism in accordance with the principles of the 
 evolutionary theory was exceedingly prevalent in certain quar- 
 ters. The exponents of this scientific criticism were forward 
 in maintaining its validity; they announced it as a type that 
 was to supersede the efforts of earlier critics. It was final 
 and infallible. 
 
 A summary of the functions of this comparatively recent 
 type of criticism has been given by J. A. Symonds: "Classical 
 criticism rested upon a logical basis. It assumed the existence 
 of certain fixed principles, from which correct judgments 
 might be deduced. Romantic criticism substituted sympathies 
 and antipathies for rules, and exchanged authority for per- 
 sonal opinion. Scientific criticism proceeds by induction, his- 
 torical investigation, morphological analysis, misdoubting the 
 certainty of aesthetic principles, regarding the instincts and 
 sensibilities of the individual with distrust, seeking materials 
 for basing the canons of perfection upon some positive foun- 
 dation." Symonds has given a case in point: "A certain type 
 of literature or art manifests itself, apparently by casual oc- 
 currence, in a nation at a given epoch. If favorable conditions 
 for its development are granted, it runs a well-defined course 
 in which every stage is connected with preceding and succeed- 
 ing stages by no merely accidental link; and when all the re- 
 sources of the type have been exhausted, it comes to a natural 
 end, and nothing but debris is left of it," etc. Symonds pro- 
 ceeds to apply the theory to Elizabethan and Attic drama, and 
 to sculpture. His discussions of these forms of art are so 
 brief that a criticism of the value of his method, as exempli- 
 fied by his application, would not be just.'^ 
 
 The same principles have been applied, however, by a writer 
 
 ^ Essays, Speculative and Suggestive, vol. i — "On Some Principles 
 of Criticism." 
 
of greater attainments, the French critic, Brunetiere. By his 
 method Brunetiere wishes to trace the development of origi- 
 nally simple material into the complex by means of a selection 
 of those writings which have added something to their type. 
 He finds it necessary to establis^h the existence of a species, to 
 understand how it was differentiated into other species, to 
 discuss fixation and stability, as well as other problems in- 
 volved in the evolutionary theory. There is, he says, a filia- 
 tion that may be traced in literature just as there is a filiation 
 in the natural world ; and the chronological and genealogical 
 methods are more valuable in establishing the line of descent 
 than is the descriptive method. Criticism, Brunetiere claims, 
 may be made a science. It may be so organized that we can 
 classify and systematise our literature, but we must first realize 
 that personal criticism is of no weight ; it is haphazard, un- 
 even, and carries the authority only of the critic. 
 
 Had Brunetiere adhered strictly to the phraseology of the 
 introduction, the main part of the Evolution des Genres would 
 be without the charm which it possesses ; but he has fortunately 
 omitted the technicalities of the theory. His discussion of the 
 development of French criticism is masterly and discreet. The 
 limitations of method, however, suggest two objections; and I 
 may be permitted to raise them without adopting the mocking 
 tone which, according to Brunetiere, is common with critics 
 who reject any attempt to classify and label works of art. 
 
 The first objection is this. The scientific method displaces 
 philosophic criticism. A critic judging according to the formu- 
 las which Symonds and Brunetiere have posited does not ad- 
 mit that any branch of philosophy may be taken as a stan- 
 dard, and a work evaluated according as it exemplifies and en- 
 forces the tenets of that philosophy. This omission is the 
 more remarkable because there have been periods which were 
 dominated by the existing philosophy, periods in which liter- 
 ature reflected philosophic influence to an unwonted degree. 
 
 There is a second objection. In all well-rounded criticism 
 there is one element that is indispensable — the expression of 
 intuitive taste. But it is not to be expected that a writer who 
 is hampered by an exact, scientific formula will be able to 
 furnish this expression. I believe that any criticism which 
 limits an author in this regard or which sets aside as of 
 trifling value any record of intuitive taste is markedly defective. 
 
 4 
 
The philosophy which Lord Morley represents, that of 
 rationalism, was of particular importance during the same 
 period that fostered the evolutionary theory. The close rela- 
 tion between rationalism and the evolutionary theory is too 
 well-known to require discussion here ; but their applications in 
 criticism are widely different. Whereas Brunetiere was con- 
 cerned primarily with tracing the growth of types, Morley has 
 kept constantly before himself the principles of his philosophy. 
 He must know what contributions have been made to human 
 progress. He must know in what frame of mind a position 
 was maintained, whether open-mindedly or with vision stub- 
 bornly limited and obscured ; whether the writer whom he criti- 
 cizes was deliberate and cautious, or characterized by vague 
 generalising and prejudice. 
 
 A standard that was limited to such considerations as these, 
 however, would be subject to the second objection which I have 
 advanced against scientific criticism. Fortunately, Morley has 
 not excluded the valuable criticism which an expression of 
 taste affords. There is evidence that rationalism has not been 
 so inhibitory in this respect as we might be led to believe. His 
 approval of all those authors or men of affairs who have aided 
 mankind has allowed him to exhibit a catholicity of taste that 
 is remarkable. And as a corollary to this taste, which is per- 
 haps synonymous with judgment, he has given expression to 
 that more subtle intuitive taste without which literary criticism 
 is bald and dessicated ; by means of it Morley has attained to 
 that "high and excellent seriousness" which Arnold has praised 
 as the unfailing mark of genius. 
 
 It is conceivable that critics of Morley have overlooked his 
 contribution to literary criticism. The authors of the com- 
 paratively few and brief articles on his work have generally 
 been so concerned with his rationalistic point of view or with 
 his political career, that they have diverted attention from the 
 type of criticism to which he has given expression. A final 
 estimate in regard to his position in the nineteenth century is 
 of course not to be expected at the present time. I shall con- 
 sider my task completed if I can show that rationalism when 
 applied to literary criticism furnishes a standard by which a 
 rigorous, definite selection is possible. We may thus consider 
 Morley's standard scientific. On the other hand, there is evi- 
 dence in his writings of a finer taste than a critic could display 
 
 5 
 
were he wholly scientific. My second point will be, according- 
 ly, that Morley has shown proof not only of a discriminating 
 but of an intuitive taste. 
 
 Rationalists of the nineteenth century are commonly con- 
 sidered incapable of appreciating poetry. Opinions from 
 writers of their own school are cited to their disadvantage. 
 Against them is quoted the statement by Bentham that an equal 
 amount of pleasure is afforded by pushpin and poetry. It is 
 further remembered that Bentham distinguished prose from 
 poetry by observing that the one runs out to the margin and 
 the other does not. Furthermore, the critic remembers that 
 James Mill was not kindly disposed toward poetry, and that 
 his son, J. S. Mill, only tardily found pleasure in it. 
 
 A hasty judge of Mill and his followers finds little in their 
 thought besides dialectic, positivistic certainty, and scientific 
 classification. The conclusion is to a certain extent warranted. 
 The titles, themselves, the "Rationalistic School" and the "Utili- 
 tarians," are significant of close thinking and of practical ap- 
 plication. The bulk of their literature is given over to discus- 
 sions of actual human relationships, of actual situations. The 
 critic also advances that the outburst of science in the past 
 century was the result of the type of thinking which the ration- 
 alists advocated. 
 
 The conclusion then is to a certain extent warranted ; but 
 even a cursory examination will show that the judgment is in- 
 complete. There is more to rationalistic thought than has been 
 indicated. That J. S. Mill was aware of this fact is evident 
 in a letter written by him to E. Lytton Bulwer.^ The sup- 
 porters of the London and Westminster Reziew, Mill states, 
 ought to represent the utilitarianism ''which holds in the high- 
 est reverence all which the vulgar notion of utilitarianism rep- 
 resents them to despise — which holds feeling at least as valu- 
 able as thought, and Poetry not only on a par with, but the 
 necessary condition of, any true and comprehensive Philos- 
 ophy." I shall have to consider later and at some length Mill's 
 attitude! It is my purpose in the following discussion to call 
 attention to certain elements in the philosophy of a rationalist 
 by means of which he is qualified to be a sympathetic critic of 
 
 2 Letters of John Stuart Mill, vol. i, p. 104. 
 
 6 
 
poetry, to show that there are ideals which stimulate his imagi- 
 nation and attune his mind into a mood receptive of the aspira- 
 tions of the poets. In particular I shall be concerned with 
 the bearing of these ideals on Morley's criticism of the Roman- 
 tic poets, because it is of them that he has written at greatest 
 length. 
 
 The most idealistic element is the belief in progress. Mor- 
 ley states definitely that rationalism has enforced this belief 
 on the nineteenth century. It would be unjust, he writes, to 
 claim that reasoned interest in social improvement is incom- 
 patible with a spiritualistic doctrine, but we are justified in 
 saying that an energetic faith in the possibilities of social 
 progress has been first reached through the philosophy of sen- 
 sation and experience.^ This conviction occurs to him as 
 startlingly new. The master minds of past ages were without 
 it ; "scouring a library, you come across a little handful of 
 fugitive and dubious sentences'' which express faith in human 
 progress. Even among the eighteenth century writers, Mor- 
 ley remarks with surprise, it was unknown.* "Rousseau actu- 
 ally thought the history of civilization a record of the fall of 
 man."^ 
 
 References in Morley's writings to progress are innumerable. 
 He considers it the basis of social thought, and he believes that 
 it has taken the place even of a religion as the inspiring, guid- 
 ing, and testing power of social action." "It is only the faith 
 that we are moving slowly away from the existing order," he 
 states, "as our ancestors moved slowly away from the old 
 want of order, that makes the present endurable, and any tena- 
 cious effort to raise the future possible."^ There are refer- 
 ences to the "ceaseless forward tramp of humanity,"® and, in 
 a melancholy tone, to the too scanty list of those who have 
 essayed the great and hardy task of reconciling order with 
 progress.^ So firm is Morley in this belief that he writes, in 
 the phraseology of the intuitive school, of the necessity for 
 
 3 Diderot, vol. i, p. 183. 
 
 *Misc. vol. 4, p. 298. 
 
 5 Idem, p. 299. See Rousseau, vol. i, p. 147, for same idea. 
 
 * Recollections, vol. i, p. 27. 
 
 ^ Rousseau, vol. i, p. 186. 
 
 8 Idem, p. 241. 
 
 ^ Burke, p. 255. 
 
"faith in the beneficent powers and processes of the Unseen 
 Time."^° 
 
 The second element in Morley's philosophy by means of 
 which he is enabled to sympathize with Romantic poetry is the 
 insistence on individualism. A thorough discussion of this 
 phase of rationalism would lead us into a consideration of the 
 philosophy in all its ramifications. Individualism is even more 
 important to the rationalist than is progress, because it is by 
 preaching the necessity for individual expansion that he ex- 
 pects his type of millennium to be hastened. I shall limit my- 
 self, therefore, to a few references. 
 
 It will be recalled that Mill in his essay On Liberty took 
 as his theme the "nature and limits of the power which can be 
 legitimately exercised by society over the individual." The 
 discussion which he gives is too well-known to demand any 
 treatment here. It seems probable that Morley was induced by 
 a study of the essay to write his own thoughts on the subject 
 in On Compromise. He has emphasized not so much the 
 limits of society's authority as the obligations of the individual 
 in three given situations : the forming of an opinion, the ex- 
 pressing of it, and the acting on it. "No Compromise" is the 
 general theme. Ideas must be followed to their conclusions 
 without fear of the consequences ; the time is always ripe for 
 the expressing of an idea, but action is not always so free or 
 timely. Morley would restrict freedom of action to self- 
 regarding acts, as does Mill, but admits the difficulty of defin- 
 ing such acts. 
 
 The propositions advanced in the two treatises just men- 
 tioned express all that is most vigorous in the rationalist's 
 doctrine of individualism, as understood by Mill and Morley. 
 One may find in each treatise a fairly complete statement of 
 the views of the respective authors. That Morley realized the 
 difficulties to which the doctrine might lead can be demon- 
 strated. Let us notice that he was fully aware of the dangers 
 inherent in this phase of his philosophy. 
 
 We are too likely to forget, he writes, in our emphasis upon 
 individuality that we are dependent upon our predecessors for 
 our heritage. Man is subordinate to time ; the past has cut the 
 groove. "Only too familiar is the exaggerated and mis-shapen 
 
 ^'^Idem, p. 312. 
 
rationalism that shuts out imagination, distrusts all sentiment, 
 despises tradition, and makes short work alike of the past, 
 and of anything like collective or united faith and belief in 
 the present. '"^^ He writes approvingly of Burke's belief, that 
 "if you encourage every individual to let the imagination loose 
 on all subjects, without any restraint from a sense of his own 
 weakness and subordinate rank in the long scheme of things, 
 then there is nothing of all the opinion of ages has agreed to 
 regard as excellent and venerable, which would not be exposed 
 to destruction at the hands of rationalistic criticism,"^^ -phg 
 French revolutionists did not know this ; they failed to realize 
 what was owing to the past. Consequently, although they were 
 animated by some of the most powerful convictions, by a belief 
 in progress, in justice, in the brotherhood of man, yet they 
 seemed to have been paralyzed whenever they essayed any great 
 incorporation of their ideas in positive institutions, or even in 
 extensive measures of destruction that required courage and 
 faith. Furthermore, those who execrate the past indiscrimi- 
 nately are sure ultimately to distrust the future. ^^ He be- 
 lieves still further that one of the permanent sides of Burke's 
 teaching is his respect for the "collective reason of mankind" ; 
 that the individual cannot be judged apart from the experience 
 of the race. Still, he maintains, recurring to his favorite 
 thought, that we shall profit little if we accept the plenary in- 
 spiration of majorities.^* It is a mark of the highest intelli- 
 gence when a man has learned how little the effort of the indi- 
 vidual can do either to hasten or direct the current of human 
 destiny, and yet finds in effort his pleasure and his most con- 
 stant duty. It does not matter so much what a man has don«, 
 but how he has tried. ^^ In the world's final estimate, he writes, 
 character goes farther than act, imagination than utility, and 
 its leaders strike us as much by what they were, as by what 
 they did. 
 
 There is another point which might be considered with 
 profit. A rationalist is fond of details; he prefers direct ob- 
 servation to the vagueness of theoretical possibilities. Keen- 
 
 11 Notes on Politics and History, p. 20. 
 
 12 Burke, p. 21. 
 
 13 Idem, p. 279. 
 
 1* On Compromise, p. 118. 
 15 Walpole, p. 114. 
 
ness of observation is his particular virtue. With facts be- 
 fore him, he feels justified in forming his deductions. The 
 rationalist, therefore, is hkely to be attracted to poetry not 
 only because he enjoys the moral sentiments and the expression 
 of individuality, but also because he finds in it a vivid and 
 extensive portrayal of actualities. 
 
 These, then, are some of the principles by means of v^hich 
 a rationalist may approach poetry. But it is not necessary to 
 rest the case on an a priori argument. The leading rationalist 
 of the century has furnished us, both in the Autobiography 
 and in his essay on poetry, with valuable statements of his at- 
 titude. Let us review the account which Mill has given of 
 his appreciation of poetry, before we consider the essay. 
 
 As early as 1828 Mill had become aware of the power of 
 poetry.^*' Having previously to that date found emotional 
 stimulus in music, but believing that its appeal was conditioned 
 by its novelty, he became "tormented by the thought of the 
 exhaustibility of musical combinations," like "the philosophers 
 of Laputa, who feared lest the sun should be burnt out." 
 Dejection set in. The problems of life were weighing heavily 
 upon him. As a last resort he turned to poetry, and found in 
 it his remedy. He read Byron, but learned to his disappoint- 
 ment that the poet's state of mind was too like his own. Each 
 found life a "vapid, uninteresting thing" — the poet, because he 
 had exhausted all its pleasures, the logician because he had 
 abstained too rigorously from them. Byron consequently was 
 rejected. 
 
 The next poet to be tried was Wordsworth, and in him Mill 
 found what he desired. The poet's love of rural objects and 
 scenery was in the first place attractive. But what made 
 Wordsworth of value to Mill, a "medicine for my state of 
 mind," was his expression of "states of feeling, and of thought 
 colored by feeling, under the excitement of beauty." From 
 him Mill learned that "there was real permanent happiness in 
 tranquil contemplation." The delight which the poems gave 
 him proved that "there was nothing to dread from the most 
 confirmed habit of analysis." 
 
 It is of interest as an indication of the wide scope which 
 rationalism affords to individual thought and feeling to notice 
 
 1^ Autobiography, pp. 144 ff. 
 
 10 
 
the sequel to this discovery." Mill recommended Wordsworth 
 to his rationalistic friend Roebuck, and in so doing took ex- 
 ception to Byron, "both as a poet and as to his influence on the 
 character." Seemingly Roebuck preferred action and struggle 
 to tranquil contemplation, because he believed that Byron's 
 writings were the "poetry of human life," whereas Words- 
 worth's poetry treated of "flowers and butterflies." Roebuck, 
 Mill tells further, was in many ways "different from the 
 vulgar notion of a Benthamite or Utilitarian." Instead of be- 
 ing devoid of feeling, as Benthamites are supposed to be, he 
 was very sensible of emotional appeal. He would not admit, 
 however, that music, painting, and poetry have any value as 
 aids in the forming of character, and so the matter had to be 
 carried to the debating society. The situation is peculiar : J. S. 
 Mill bringing dialectic to bear on the importance of feeling as 
 a formative influence, and Roebuck, another rationalist, cham- 
 pioning the value of poetic expressions of feeling per se. The 
 result of the debate we do not know. 
 
 Not only has Mill given a detailed account of his approach 
 to poetry, but he has also expressed at some length his opin- 
 ions on the nature of poetry. Thoughts on Poetry and Its 
 Varieties^^ was published originally in 1833, three years after 
 the author had met Mrs. Taylor. Of her influence he has given 
 testimony in the Autobiography as well as in the dedicatory 
 preface to the essay On Liberty. Undoubtedly she did stimu- 
 late emotionally the mind of the logician ; we are reminded of 
 a similar situation between Clothilde de Vaux and Comte. 
 But even in 1828, as we have seen, Mill was turning to poetry. 
 We must, therefore, while admitting the great extent of Mrs. 
 Taylor's influence, remember that Mill had felt the need of 
 the emotional appeal of poetry at least two years before his 
 acquaintance with her. 
 
 The problem of the essay referred to is the distinction be- 
 tween poetry and metrical composition. "The object of 
 poetry," Mill writes, is "confessedly to act on the emotions; 
 and therein is poetry sufficiently distinguished from what 
 Wordsworth affirms to be its logical opposite, namely, not 
 prose, but matter of fact or science. The one addresses itself 
 
 1'^ Idem. pp. 149 ff. 
 
 18 Dissertations, vol. i, pp. 63 ff. 
 
 II 
 
to the belief, the other to the feelings. The one does its work 
 by convincing or persuading, the other by moving. The one 
 acts by presenting a proposition to the understanding, the other 
 by offering interesting objects of contemplation to the sensi- 
 bilities." 
 
 But a novel may appeal to the emotions, too! The differ- 
 ence in the appeal, however, adds to the definition of poetry. 
 "In one the source of the emotion excited is the exhibition of 
 a state or states of human sensibility; in the other, of a series 
 of states of mere outward circumstances." The truth of poetry 
 is the painting of the human soul truly; consequently, who- 
 ever describes accurately any human feeling, writes poetry. 
 Mill feels justified in rejecting as poetry the narrative element 
 in drama, epic, or ballad, although it is such a popular part of 
 these types. To the many, Shakespeare is great as a story- 
 teller, to the few, as a poet. 
 
 This restricting of poetry to the delineation of states of feel- 
 ing would seem to eliminate descriptive verse from the high 
 rank of poetry. Mill denies the charge. "The poetry is not in 
 the object itself, nor in the scientific truth itself, but in the 
 state of mind in which the one and the other may be contem- 
 plated." Thus, a poet may describe a lion, not as a naturalist 
 would, but under the influence of awe, wonder, or terror. Ap- 
 parently the lion is described, really the state of excitement of 
 the beholder. The lion may even be described falsely and the 
 poetry be all the better. If the human emotion be not accur- 
 ately indicated, then the poet has failed to produce poetry. 
 
 But the author is not yet satisfied with his definition. He 
 refers approvingly to two other definitions. Poetry is "im- 
 passioned truth," and poetry is "man's thoughts tinged by his 
 feelings." It may be objected, though, that eloquence is also 
 impassioned truth. Mill then draws a distinction in a very 
 fine paragraph. "Poetry and eloquence are both alike the ex- 
 pression or utterance of feeling. But if we may be excused 
 the antithesis, we should say that eloquence is heard, poetry is 
 oz'^rheard. Eloquence supposes an audience ; the peculiarity 
 of poetry appears to us to lie in the poet's utter unconscious- 
 ness of a listener. Poetry is feeling confessing itself to itself, 
 in moments of solitude, and embodying itself in symbols which 
 are the nearest possible representations of the feeling in the 
 exact shape in which it exists in the poet's mind. Eloquence 
 
 12 
 
is feeling pouring itself out to other minds, courting their 
 sympathy, or endeavouring to influence their belief or move 
 them to passion or to action." "All poetry is of the nature 
 of soliloquy." Mill's lapse into the phraseology of the school 
 to which he was opposed is interesting: the poet "confines him- 
 self altogether to intuitive truths." 
 
 Whom then. Mill asks, shall we call poets? Every one may 
 be and usually at some time of his life is a poet, because we 
 all feel acutely at times, and the faithful recording of such 
 feeling is poetry. The traditional opinion is given that poets 
 excel in this intensity of feeling and in their ability to record 
 it. Mill continues: "The difference then between the poetry 
 of a poet, and the poetry of a cultivated but not naturally 
 poetic mind, is, that in the latter, with however bright a halo 
 of feeling the thought may be surrounded and glorified, the 
 thought itself is always the conspicuous object; while the 
 poetry of a poet is Feeling itself, employing Thought only as 
 the medium of its expression. In the one feeling waits upon 
 thought ; in the other thought upon feeling." A man is a 
 poet "not because he has ideas of any particular kind, but 
 because the succession of his ideas is subordinate to the course 
 of his emotions." 
 
 Mill's essay cannot be regarded as a manifesto of the nine- 
 teenth century rationalist's attitude toward poetry. Indeed, 
 there is nothing in the essay which would indicate the position 
 in philosophy of the author ; the discussion might more readily 
 have been the product of an intuitionist than of a rationalist. 
 So true is this that a critic may justly condemn the one-sided 
 point of view which Mill has revealed in the essay. There is 
 too much insistence on emotion, as though the capacity for 
 feeling were the only essential to the enjoyment of poetry. 
 Nevertheless, the essay is of value because it overthrows at 
 once the traditional idea in regard to the rationalist's evalua- 
 tion of poetry. 
 
 There is no complete discussion from Morley of his views 
 on poetry ; but from many references, some of them quite full, 
 we may arrive at his point of view. It is in a passage of the 
 essay on Byron^^ that we find the most definite statement of 
 Morley's approach : "Poetry, and not only poetry, but every 
 
 1' Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 209. 
 
 13 
 
other channel of emotional expression and aesthetic culture, 
 confessedly moves with the general march of the human mind, 
 and art is only the transformation into ideal and imaginative 
 shapes of a predominant system and philosophy of life. Minor 
 verse-writers may fairly be consigned, without disrespect, to 
 the region of the literature of taste; and criticism of their 
 work takes the shape of a discussion of stray graces, of new 
 turns, of little variations of shade and colour, of their con- 
 formity to the accepted rules that constitute the technique of 
 poetry. The loftier masters, though their technical power and 
 originality, their beauty of form, strength of flight, music and 
 variousness of rhythm, are full of interest and instruction, 
 come to us with the size and quality of great historic forces, 
 for they represent the hope and energies, the dreams and the 
 consummation, of the human intelligence in its most enormous 
 movements. To appreciate one of these, we need to survey it 
 on every side. For these we need synthetic criticism, which, 
 after analysis has done its work, and disclosed to us the pecul- 
 iar qualities of form, conception, and treatment, shall collect 
 the products of this first process, construct for us the poet's 
 mental figure in its integrity and just coherence, and then 
 finally, as the sum of its work, shall trace the relations of the 
 poet's ideas, either direct or indirect, through the central cur- 
 rents of thought, to the visible tendencies of an existing age." 
 Before I consider the relation of this thought to Morley's 
 criticism, I must refute the accusation that has been brought 
 against him, namely, that he is a "puritan pulpiteer." I am 
 obliged therefore to notice his attitude toward didactic poetry, 
 and to verse that is usually considered "moral." A passage in 
 the essay on the Ring mid the Book deserves to be quoted:^" 
 "The truth is, we have for long been so debilitated by pastorals, 
 by graceful presentation of the Arthurian legend for drawing 
 rooms, by idylls, not robust and Theocritean, by verse directly 
 didactic, that a rude blast of air from the outside welter of 
 human realities is apt to give a shock, that might well show in 
 what simpleton's paradise we have been living. The ethics of 
 the rectory parlour set to sweet music, the respectable aspira- 
 tions of the sentimental curate married to exquisite verse, the 
 everlasting glorification of domestic sentiment in blameless 
 
 20 Studies, p. 256. 
 
 14 
 
princes and others, as if that were the poet's single province 
 and the divinely-appointed end of all art, as if domestic senti- 
 ment included and summed up the whole throng of passions, 
 emotions, strife, and desire; all this might seem to be making 
 valetudinarians of us all. Our public is beginning to measure 
 the right and possible in art by the superficial probabilities of 
 life and manners within a ten-mile radius of Charing Cross." 
 In the same essay he raises in order to answer it an objection 
 against the Ring and the Book, namely, that its 21075 ^^^^^ 
 "do not seem to have any direct tendency to make us better 
 or to improve mankind."-^ The objection, he considers, is an 
 old enemy with a new face, the old application of a narrow 
 moral standard. Some readers, Morley continues, who really 
 love Shakespeare, are disappointed in not finding a moral code 
 in the plays ; nor can they hope to find such a code. But, he 
 adds, "if we must be quantitative, one great creative poet prob- 
 ably exerts a nobler, deeper, more permanent ethical influence 
 than a dozen generations of professed moral teachers" — "noth- 
 ing can be more powerfully efficacious from the moral point 
 of view than the exercise of an exalted creative art, stirring 
 within the intelligence of the spectator active thought and 
 curiosity about many types of character and many changeful 
 issues of conduct and fortune, at once enlarging and elevating 
 the range of his reflections on mankind, ever kindling his 
 sympathies into the warm and continuous glow which puri- 
 fies and strengthens nature, and fills men with that love of hu- 
 manity which is the best inspirer of virtue." We are pre- 
 pared for Morley's definition of "moral" : "Given a certain 
 rectitude as well as vigour of intelligence, then whatever stimu- 
 lates the fancy, expands the imagination, enlivens meditation 
 upon the great human drama, is essentially moral. "^^ Words- 
 worth's opinion, that "every poet is a teacher" is therefore 
 subject to important limitations. It may be doubted whether 
 "it is any more the essential business of a poet to be a teacher 
 than it was the business of Handel, Beethoven, or Mozart. 
 They attune the soul to high states of feeling; the direct les- 
 son is often as nought. "^^ 
 
 Morley records a conversation in which Mill made the ob- 
 
 21 Studies, p. 268. 
 
 22 Idem, pp. 268-269. 
 '^^ Idem, pp. 34-35. 
 
 15 
 
jection to Victor Hugo that "he has not brought forward one 
 single practical proposal for the improvement of the society 
 against which he is incessantly thundering."^* In rebuttal 
 Morley urged that "it is unreasonable to ask a poet to draft 
 acts of parliament; and that by bringing all the strength of 
 his imagination and all the majestic fulness of his sympathy 
 to bear on the social horrors and injustices which still lie so 
 thick about us, he kindled an inextinguishable fire in the hearts 
 of men of weaker initiative and less imperial gifts alike of 
 imagination and sympathy, and so prepared the forces out of 
 which practical proposals and specific improvements may be 
 expected to issue." That Mill was unable previously to see 
 the force of such sympathy only shows, adds Morley, how 
 averse he was from dissociating ''emotion from rationally di- 
 rected effort." 
 
 Thus we see that, although Morley is opposed to poetry that 
 is directly didactic, he does not believe that poetry should be 
 denied the power of a formative moral influence. To be sure, 
 he objects to Wordsworth's opinion that the poet is a teacher, 
 and he takes exception to those who desire a moral code in 
 Shakespeare or in Browning, and to Mill's wish that Hugo 
 had brought forward some practical proposals for reforming 
 mankind ; but the objections are based on the immediacy and 
 obviousness of the lesson which is sought. Morley, however, 
 does not view poetry apart from its moulding influence ; 
 poetry stimulates meditation, exerts a stronger ethical force 
 than the efforts of professed teachers, and inspires virtue. 
 
 We have seen that Mill emphasized the expression of feel- 
 ing in poetry. Morley places thought first, and feeling sec- 
 ond. This attitude is the more characteristic of the rationalist. 
 The statements made in regard to it bring to mind a passage 
 from the essay on Vauvenargues.^^ Morley is discussing 
 aphorisms, and particularly such aphorisms as the following: 
 Great thoughts come from the heart ; Reason misleads us more 
 often than Nature ; Perhaps we owe to the passions the great- 
 est advantages of the intellect. The comment which Morley 
 adds is, "Such sayings are only true on condition that instinct 
 and nature and passion have been already moulded under the 
 influence of reason." It was when carried to its limit that 
 
 2* Miscellanies, vol. 3, pp. 68-69. 
 25 Miscellanies, vol. 2, p. 23. 
 
 16 
 
this exaltation of feeling over reason "developed the specula- 
 tive and social excesses of the great sentimental school." In 
 another place,^'' writing of the first aphorism, that "great 
 thoughts come from the heart," Morley adds the qualification : 
 "Yes, but they must go round by the head." 
 
 Keeping in mind these dicta which Morley has given, we 
 may easily understand his appreciation of certain great figures 
 of his century. He considers the genius of Wordsworth the 
 exceptional fact of the period ; he is the greatest and purest 
 exponent of what to Morley is the keynote of the revolutionary 
 times — simplification. "While leading men to pierce below the 
 artificial and the conventional to the natural man and the natu- 
 ral life, as Rousseau did, Wordsworth still cherished the sym- 
 bols, the traditions, and the great institutions of social order. 
 Simplification of life and feeling was to be accomplished with- 
 out summoning up the dangerous spirit of destruction and 
 revolt, Wordsworth lived with Nature, yet waged no angry 
 railing war against society." Morley quite rightly finds the 
 chief literary force opposed to Wordsworth to have been 
 Byron; to one, communion with nature was the school of 
 duty, to the other, nature was the "mighty consoler and vindi- 
 cator of the rebel." A paradox is evident. Wordsworth, 
 who clung fervently to the historic foundations of society as it 
 stands, was wholly indifferent to history, while Byron had as 
 strong a feeling for history as any poet had, and has ex- 
 pressed his feeling tellingly. But, Morley adds, "no doubt it 
 was history on its romantic, rather than on its philosophic or 
 its political side."^^ 
 
 Morley denies the existence of any system of philosophy in 
 Wordsworth. No poet, he writes, can live permanently by 
 systems ; be the system what it may, ethical, theological, or 
 philosophical, it is the "heavy lead of poetry. "^^ Although 
 thought is predominant over feeling in Wordsworth, we have 
 no right to claim for that pervading reflection a constituted 
 system. "When he tells us that 'one impulse from a vernal 
 wood may teach you more of man, of moral evil and of good, 
 than all the sages can,' such a proposition cannot seriously be 
 taken as more than a half-playful sally for the benefit of 
 
 26 Recollections, vol. 2, p. 346. 
 
 27 Studies, pp. 36-37. 
 
 28 Idem, p. 46. 
 
 17 
 
some too bookish friend. No impulse from a vernal wood 
 can teach us anything at all of moral evil and of good." And 
 furthermore, the idea of the Ode, that the further we recede 
 from childhood the less are we able to appreciate nature, is 
 "contrary to notorious fact, experience, and truth."^^ Rather 
 than in any philosophy, Wordsworth's special claim lies in his 
 ability to glorify and to idealize the universe, "perhaps only 
 too consciously," so that nature becomes an animate presence 
 and not merely a stage. He sees nature not in any traditional, 
 literary manner, but from direct observation. Still, he was not 
 alive to the "blind and remorseless cruelties of life and the 
 world" ; he saw only the benign aspects of nature and was led 
 to lament what man has made of man, as if, Morley adds, na- 
 ture did not abound in horrors of her own. Wordsworth 
 realized that the laws of the universe are eternal, but he failed 
 to grasp their inexorability. "Wordsworth had not rooted 
 in him the sense of Fate — of the inexorable sequence of 
 things, of the terrible chain that so often binds an awful end 
 to some slight and trivial beginning." His attitude is con- 
 trasted with that of Millet to whom the peasant in the field, 
 in spite of his glorious surroundings, was still a peasant, and 
 a hard-working one, too. Harsh facts of that type were 
 blended into Wordsworth's picture, and lost their harshness. 
 
 By the force of his direct appeal to will and conduct Words- 
 worth is still further distinguished above his contemporaries; 
 the reader, we are told, will not find any intoxication in his 
 poetry, but rather those elements which lead to composure and 
 to "self-government in a far loftier sense than the merely 
 prudential." The three books of the Prelude which describe 
 the poet's residence in France give an "abiding lesson to great 
 men how to bear themselves in hours of public stress."^*' 
 
 Morley's disavowal of any moral element in nature is a 
 revelation of the difference between him and the Romanticists. 
 
 29 Cf. J. S. Mill, Autobiography, p. 149 : "At the conclusion of the 
 Poems came the famous Ode, falsely called Platonic, "Intimations of 
 Immortality" : in which, along with more than his usual sweetness of 
 melody and rhythm, and along with the two passages of grand imagery 
 but bad philosophy so often quoted" — etc. 
 
 ^° Cf. Mill's Essay on Poetry and its Varieties : "The well is never 
 so full that it overflows — he seems to be poetical because he wills to 
 be so, not because he cannot help it; did he will to dismiss poetry, he 
 need never again, it might almost seem, have a poetical thought." 
 
 18 
 
In refusing to attribute the implied corrective to nature, he 
 speaks out plainly against that sentimental conception which 
 has met with the favor of many since the early years of the 
 nineteenth century, and which has found its most successful 
 professor in our own country in Emerson. Imagination with- 
 out utility is acceptable to Morley, but he does not sanction the 
 imagination which to him is akin to untruth. To a certain 
 type of mind his matter-of-fact observations on the power of 
 nature and his rejection of the thought that trees and flowers 
 bring a moral message are sufficient to incapacitate him as a 
 judge of nature poetry. But let us not be rash in forming a 
 decision. Because Morley will not admit the "vernal wood" 
 to the rank of teacher, we are not justified in concluding that 
 he is insensible to the charms of poetry that describe the ex- 
 ternal world. His hostility is extended only to that type of 
 poetry which would find in nature something which reason 
 says is not there. There is nothing, however, in his essays 
 which would lead the reader to suppose that Morley is dull to 
 nature poetry. 
 
 Of a piece with his denial of a didactic influence in nature is 
 his comment on Wordsworth's failure to realize the inexorable 
 sequence of the universe. The criticism is, of course, a direct 
 product of Morley's philosophy. A positivist sees in the multi- 
 tudinous happenings of a lifetime not a beneficent ordering of 
 events, but the inevitable effect from cause ; and he is likely 
 to have but little sympathy with a less rigorous conception. 
 That the result of his thinking should be grimly suggestive of 
 the mechanistic is evident. The observation may be permitted 
 that part of the charm of Morley's work lies in the fact that 
 he does not allow his sense of this inexorable sequence to 
 turn to gloominess, but finds rather in such ordering the only 
 source of a quite sanguine outlook for coming generations. 
 
 Morley's consideration of Byron is consonant with the view 
 quoted earlier, that a critic should relate a poet to an existing 
 age. The appearance of such a radical in a conservative coun- 
 try seems to him phenomenal. Still more singular is the fact 
 that Byron was a member of the most conservative class in 
 England — the aristocracy. And yet, it was a member of Eng- 
 land's aristocracy who bore the most out-spoken testimony 
 against the religious and social customs of his day.^^ 
 
 31 Miscellanies, vol. i, pp. 203 ff. 
 
 19 
 
Morley frankly criticizes England because she is waning in 
 her appreciation of Byron's efforts. It is only in England, he 
 states, that the conservatives shun the facts of the Revolution 
 by shutting their eyes to them, while the friends of progress 
 imagine that they will reap all the benefits of the change if they 
 restrain themselves from public discussion. Englishmen are 
 too practical to find value in what was hardly more than an 
 aspiration. They "like to be able to answer about the Revo- 
 lution as those ancients answered about the symbol of an- 
 other Revolution, when they said that they knew not so much 
 as whether there were a Holy Ghost or not." According to 
 Morley, the Revolution never seized strongly enough the 
 imagination of the English people, and for that reason new 
 generations of readers are unable to understand Byron, its 
 spokesman. Byron's conception itself was inadequate and 
 transitional, but the very expression of the conception showed 
 that he was a great power. "There is no better proof of the 
 enormous force of Byron's genius than that it was able to 
 produce so fine an expression of elements so intrinsically un- 
 favourable to poetry as doubt, denial, antagonism, and weari- 
 ness. But this force was no guarantee for perpetuity of in- 
 fluence. Bare rebellion cannot endure, and no succession of 
 generations can continue nourishing themselves on the poetry 
 of complaint and the idealization of revolt." Nevertheless, 
 we should not pass lightly over the aspirations of Byron, be- 
 cause there may be something of value "in the noble freedom 
 and genuine modernism of his poetic spirit." 
 
 To Morley Byron is the most essentially political of English 
 poets, or as the thought is expressed more exactly, he was in- 
 spired by a "poetical worldliness" which prompted him to an 
 energetic interest in the transactions of life, and which often 
 elevated his emotion into lofty moods. Such an inspiration, 
 Morley finds, was lacking in Shelley; he did not possess a 
 "keen and omnipresent feeling for the great course of human 
 events. All nature stirred him, except the consummating 
 crown of human growth" — in spite of his propaganda in Ire- 
 land, his active benevolence, and his many stanzas dealing with 
 injustice. "Of mankind he was barely conscious, in his loftiest 
 and divinest flights. His muse seeks the vague translucent 
 spaces where the care of man melts away in vision of the 
 eternal forces, of which man may be but the fortuitous mani- 
 
 20 
 
festation of an hour." Byron, on the contrary, no matter how 
 strong his emotion, is never moved entirely away from the 
 struggles of mankind. "Even his misanthropy is only an in- 
 verted form of social solicitude." In a very forceful passage 
 at the conclusion of the essay, Morley accredits Byron with a 
 passionate feeling for mankind, a feeling that extended far 
 into the past and into the future. No poet had a "more sub- 
 lime sense of the infinite melancholy of history." Byron's 
 death in Greece was the result of his desire to do something 
 for mankind; "the historic feeling for the unseen benefactors 
 of old time was matched by vehemence of sympathy with the 
 struggles for liberation of his own day." Even Byron's hu- 
 mor is an indication to Morley of an interest in mankind, 
 since "it is of the essence of the humoristic nature, that whether 
 sunny or saturnine, it binds the thoughts of him who possesses 
 it to the wide medley of expressly human things." It was be- 
 cause men realized that Byron was of like passions with them- 
 selves that he became a social force. I am inclined to accuse 
 Morley of striving after the simile when he writes that Byron 
 never for long moved on remote heights away from mankind 
 but "returned again like the fabled dove from the desolate 
 void of waters to the ark of mortal stress and human passion." 
 
 Of much interest, although the opinion has for long been 
 generally accepted, is Morley's analysis of Byron's attitude 
 toward nature. I have already referred to the statement that 
 Byron was the chief opposing force in literature to Words- 
 worth ; the idea is more fully developed in the essay under 
 discussion. 
 
 To Byron, according to the thought of the essay, nature 
 was but the background for the tragedy of man. This view he 
 shared in common with the Revolutionists. Because the poet 
 did see nature as the background, he was unable to present the 
 minutiae. Byron rarely directed his attention to details ; he 
 often takes the reader through an enormous number of natural 
 objects without affixing any but the conventional terms to 
 them. I must quote a passage expressing this thought : "Our 
 generation is more likely to think too much than too little of 
 this ; for its favourite poet, however narrow in subject and 
 feeble in moral treatment, is without any peer in the exquisitely 
 original, varied, and imaginative art of his landscape touches. 
 This treatment of nature (referring to Byron's) was in exact 
 
 21 
 
harmony with the method of revolutionary thought, which, 
 from the time of Rousseau downwards, had appealed in its 
 profound weariness of an existing social state to the solitude 
 and seeming freedom of mountain and forest and ocean, as 
 though the only cure for the woes of civilization lay in an- 
 nihilating it. This was an appeal less to nature than from 
 man, just as we have said that Byron's was, and hence it was 
 distinct from the single-eyed appreciation of nature for her 
 own sake, for her beauty and terror and unnumbered moods, 
 which has made of her the mistress and the consoler of many 
 men in these times. In the days of old faith while the catho- 
 lic gods sat yet firm upon their thrones, the loveliness of the 
 universe shone to blind eyes." Even during the Revolution, 
 when men had overthrown the old gods but were still wanting 
 in a settled faith, nature could not be viewed as later writers 
 were in the habit of considering her. "So they fled in spirit or 
 in flesh into unfamiliar scenes, and vanished from society, be- 
 cause society was not sufficiently social."^- 
 
 Morley believes that the Revolutionists developed a rational- 
 istic virtue from this philosophic rather than artistic view of 
 nature. Although a sentimentalism arose as feeble in art as 
 the metaphysical in philosophy, nevertheless this nature wor- 
 ship was an approach to positivity.^^ The idea of nature as 
 an abstraction gave "shape and proportion to that great idea 
 of ensemble throughout the universe" which is the beginning 
 of knowledge. Byron's continued meditation on the life and 
 movement that surrounds mankind "implied and promoted the 
 widest extension of consciousness of the wholeness and com- 
 munity of natural processes." But the very conception was 
 attended by an evil consequence. The principle of moral duty 
 and social obligation was entirely overshadowed by the vast- 
 ness of the universe. A specific instance is found in the dis- 
 appearance of the domestic sentiment. Even this loss Morley 
 excuses as the result of a justified revolt against the "mean 
 and poor form of domesticity" which George the Third, liv- 
 ing as a farmer, popularized. Byron cleared the air of that 
 form of sentimentalism. "His fire, his lofty spaciousness of 
 outlook, his spirited interest in great national causes, his ro- 
 mance, and the passion alike of his animosity and his sym- 
 
 32 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 220. 
 
 33 Idem, p. 221. 
 
 22 
 
pathy, acted for a while like an electric current, and every one 
 within his influence became ashamed to barter the larger herit- 
 age of manhood, with its many realms and illimitable inter- 
 ests, for the sordid ease of the hearth and the good word of 
 the unworthy. He fills men with thoughts that shake down 
 the unlovely temple of comfort." 
 
 The author of this startling passage is not without a sense 
 of the evils of the revolutionary movement. He characterizes 
 it as "crude, unscientific, virtually abortive." It was presided 
 over by a false idea of nature, that which held nature to be a 
 "benign and purifying power" instead of a force to be tamed. 
 It erred also in tracing the evils of mankind to the social 
 union, instead of finding in that union the source of strength. 
 The revolutionists failed to understand that Truth and not 
 Freedom should have been the watchword. 
 
 Such a state Byron was called to interpret, and, although he 
 represented more of the ashes than the flame of the Revolu- 
 tion, he was in close sympathy with the movement, and so be- 
 came popular. "The list of his poems is the catalogue of the 
 elements of the revolutionary spirit." When the Byronic hero 
 failed to find the life he was seeking, he gave violent expres- 
 sion to his complaint. He "went to clasp repose in a frenzy. 
 All crimson and aflame with passion he groaned for evening 
 stillness." As if, Morley adds, such freedom could ever exist 
 without a well-ordered mind and an acceptance, partial at least, 
 of the surroundings ! 
 
 It was because Byron had no justification in thought that his 
 struggles were doomed *to disappointment ; he himself often 
 found that his fits of passion had left him nothing. Perhaps, 
 Morley continues, the excessive material activity of Byron was 
 an efifort to hide this spiritual vacuity; but even the activity 
 itself was often robbed of its power by a secret distrust of 
 his aims, methods, and results. Furthermore, although Byron 
 did have a sense of the ensemble of nature, he had no concep- 
 tion of her systematic workings and of human relations with 
 her. He was lacking in that great virtue of the man he ad- 
 mired: the "luminous and coherent positivity" of Goethe. 
 Had Byron only known, Morley writes, that all the beliefs 
 which men have held either in regard to themselves or to their 
 gods have had a source in the permanently useful instincts of 
 mankind and are capable of historical explanation and justifi- 
 
 23 
 
cation, his revolt would have taken on new cogency. His ethi- 
 cal poverty was undoubtedly the result of the same lack of 
 positive intellectual ideals. Curiously enough, Morley finds in 
 Byron's preference for the drama a sign of an approach on his 
 part to the positive spirit. The definition of dramatic art which 
 Morley gives will explain this reference. "Dramatic art, in 
 its purest modern conception, is genuinely positive; that is, it 
 is the presentation of action, character, and motive in a self- 
 sufficing and self-evolving order. There are no final causes, 
 and the first moving elements are taken for granted to begin 
 with. The dramatist creates, but it is the climax of his work 
 to stand absolutely apart and unseen, while the play unfolds 
 itself to the spectator." Byron was attracted to the drama 
 partly by the love of the revolutionist for action, but partly also 
 by his "rudimentary and unsuspected affinity with the more 
 constructive and scientific side of the modern spirit." That 
 Byron was not wont to indulge in the declamation common to 
 the Revolutionists is proof of a fundamental rationalism in 
 his thinking: "an angel of reasonableness seems to watch over 
 him." Why should Morley have written so eulogistically of 
 Byron? The distance between the two men is seemingly so 
 great that it precludes on Morley's part an approach in which 
 there is evidence not only of sympathy but of admiration. The 
 extent of that distance may be estimated if we but think of 
 the dissimilarity between them in environment, action, and 
 achievement. Obviously the reason for Morley's attraction 
 cannot be found in any of these matters. 
 
 The point of contact is in the ideals of the movements which 
 Morley and Byron represented. The rationalistic movement 
 transferred into philosophic terms one of the main aspirations 
 of the Romanticists — the exaltation of the individual. Conse- 
 quently, to each group the study of human relations was of 
 greater importance than the investigation of the purely ma- 
 terial world. The law of man was of more interest than the 
 law of physical science. That this statement is true of the 
 Romanticists may be accepted without my advancing the de- 
 tails of proof. The position of the rationalists is just as clear. 
 Bentham's interest in man was the stimulus to his codification 
 of the laws ; Comte considered sociology as the consummation 
 of the sciences ; Mill's preference was for the problems of 
 government, of individual liberty, of the common good. Mor- 
 
 24 
 
ley has also expressed himself clearly. Thus, in discussing the 
 relative claims of science and literature, he writes: "But, if 
 there is to be exclusion, I, for one, am not prepared to accept 
 the rather enormous pretensions that are nowadays sometimes 
 made for science as the be-all and end-all of education."^* In 
 another place^^ he considers that one of the important results 
 of science is the fostering of cosmopolitanism: "in multifarious 
 congresses in every capital of the world nationality is effaced." 
 He writes of science in the same passage as one of the strong- 
 est unifying agents of the time. 
 
 Byron also represents for Morley much the same spirit of 
 revolt which the French thinkers of the eighteenth century 
 exemplified. Admittedly Byron was opposed to the religious 
 and social conventions of his day, just as the Encyclopaedists 
 were opposed to the traditions of their age. More was 
 needed, however, before Byron could be apotheosized. He 
 must possess in some way the positive spirit; he must under- 
 stand the meaning of history ; he must have an interest in 
 mankind, an interest that would explain his satires, his flights 
 of fancy, and his death. I think that Morley has read into 
 the poetry of Byron many of those intellectual virtues which 
 the rationalist seeks. The evidence for Morley's opinion is at 
 best tenuous. 
 
 So far we have been concerned with the thought which 
 Morley finds in the Romanticists. I have attempted to show 
 that his discussion of the ideals of the Romanticists is influ- 
 enced to a remarkable degree by his philosophy ; wherever 
 possible he has fitted their aspirations into the rationalistic 
 program. I have taken up this side of his criticism first be- 
 cause beyond a doubt Morley is primarily interested in poetry 
 in its exemplification of what I have called rationalistic vir- 
 tues. To many readers this type of criticism nullifies the 
 beauties of poetry; and I should agree with this opinion were 
 there nothing more subtle in Morley's criticism. All charms, 
 however, do not fly at the cold touch of philosophy. 
 
 Our study of Morley will be simplified if we bear in mind 
 one general thought. Matters of taste must always occupy a 
 
 3* Studies, p. 200. 
 
 *5 Notes on Politics and History, pp. 145, 147 
 
 25 
 
secondary place in his writings. Furthermore, what evidence 
 of taste there is will at times inevitably reflect the critic's ra- 
 tionalism. Morley, it will be noticed, does not divulge in that 
 type of criticism in which the emotions play a large part, as 
 in Swinburne's criticism of Byron, for example. The reader 
 feels that Morley has his emotions in check, that he realizes 
 by ratiocination that the affections must be admitted as im- 
 portant elements in life. But even with this limitation there is 
 sufiicient proof that the second thought of my thesis, namely, 
 that Morley evinces the subtleties of intuitive taste, is war- 
 ranted. 
 
 That the emphasis which he places on the necessity for 
 spirituality and feeling is at times the result of a logical an- 
 alysis should not invalidate his discussion of these ethereal 
 qualities. His understanding of their value is frequently ex- 
 pressed : "The full, contented and ever festal life is found 
 in the equal ordering of reason and affections with one an- 
 other, in active freedom of curiosity and search taking sig- 
 nificance, motive, force from a warm inner pulse of human 
 love and sympathy."^^ Spirituality is defined as follows : "It 
 consists in the power of transfiguring action, character, and 
 thought, in the serene radiance of the purest imaginative in- 
 telligence, and the gift of expressing these transformed pro- 
 ducts in the finest articulate vibrations of emotional speech. "^^ 
 To Morley, Shelley is the best exponent among English poets 
 of this spirituality. In Dante, Morley finds that the inspiring 
 force was spiritual, in Goethe intellectual, in Shakespeare and 
 in Milton political and social, although in the last two the 
 spiritual element is not lacking; to ascribe a want of spiritual- 
 ity "would be at once to thrust them on to a lower plane ; for 
 the spiritual is of the very essence of poetry." But with 
 Englishmen, Morley believes, this higher feeling is mixed with 
 abundant impressions of the outer world, so that both Shake- 
 speare and Milton are concerned with man, the political being. 
 The value of the high states of feeling to which the poet 
 may attune the soul is best appreciated in Wordsworth.^* 
 Morley finds, as others have found, that Wordsworth is often 
 heavy and self-conscious with the burden of his message, but 
 
 3" Rousseau, vol. i, p. 152. 
 3^ Miscellanies, vol. 2, 213. 
 8* Studies, pp. 40-42. 
 
 26 
 
when, as in Michael, the sermon is omitted, he is truly ad- 
 mirable. There is danger, he continues, that Wordsworth will 
 be unduly solemn, when not solemnity but either sternness or 
 sadness would be the fitter mood. The Lake Poet does not 
 know how to be stern, as Dante or Milton was stern, nor does 
 he have the plangency of Rousseau, Keats, Shelley, or Cole- 
 ridge. But often in the midst of his solemnity Wordsworth 
 introduces passages, as in the second book of the Excursion 
 where he describes the almsman, in which his special gift is 
 displayed at its best, Morley compares the lines to the land- 
 scape in which they were composed : the reader can no more 
 appreciate the beauty of the one by a single or second perusal, 
 than he can the other by a scamper through the vale on the 
 box of a coach. In them is the true strength which "out of 
 the trivial raises expression for the pathetic and the sublime." 
 He believes, however, that Wordsworth, even apart from pro- 
 lixity and solemnity, is frequently surpassed by poets much 
 below him in weight and greatness ; he questions whether even 
 in his field of the simple and pastoral Wordsworth has touched 
 a note so sweet and spontaneous as Burns' Daisy or the 
 Mouse.^^ The Prelude does not have the musical, harmonious, 
 sympathetic quality which seizes the reader even in the prose 
 of such a book as Rousseau's Confessions. Still Morley finds 
 the Prelude unique in its impressive power, containing many 
 "noble passages of high reflection set to sonorous verse."*** 
 That Morley has a keen sense of the finer shades of poetic 
 feeling is well illustrated in another passage in which he con- 
 trasts the melancholy of George Eliot with that of other poets. 
 I shall content myself with referring the reader to the pas- 
 sage.*^ 
 
 Very illuminating is the dictum on aesthetics which Morley 
 gives in the essay on Byron,*^ and of particular interest from 
 the point of view of rationalistic influence. It is agreed, 
 he writes, that positivity is the first condition for the attain- 
 ment of truth in the field of science, and in general its value is 
 admitted in the material order. In the field of aesthetics, how- 
 ever, the admission is only of recent date. In all artistic 
 
 ^^ Studies, p. 42. 
 
 *° Idem, pp. 7-8. 
 
 *i Miscellanies, vol. 3, pp. 116-117. 
 
 *2 Miscellanies, vol. i, pp. 236-237. 
 
 27 
 
forms the critic may expect to find a profound unity of sub- 
 jective impression, that is, the "impression of a self-sustain- 
 ing order and a self-sufficing harmony among all those facul- 
 ties and parts and energies of universal life which come 
 within the idealising range of art. In other words, the char- 
 acteristically modern inspiration is the inspiration of law. 
 The regulated play of forces shows itself as fit to stir those 
 profound emotional impulses which wake the artistic soul, as 
 ever did the gracious or terrible gods of antique or middle 
 times." Furthermore, he considers that it is incorrect to sup- 
 pose that this conception of order is inhibitory in the realm of 
 the emotions any more than it is in the intellectual. Why, he 
 asks, if modern science has been stimulated through positive 
 conclusions, should not the same stimulus be felt in aesthetics 
 through the introduction of positivity? 
 
 The nearest approximation to a definition of beauty which 
 Morley gives is found in the essay on the Ring and the Book. 
 Is it any more, he asks, "than such an arrangement and dis- 
 position of the parts of the work as, first kindling a great va- 
 riety of dispersed emotions and thoughts in the mind of the 
 spectator, finally concentrates them in a single mood of joy- 
 ous, sad, meditative or interested delight?" It is readily 
 granted, he continues, that the sculptor, painter, and musician 
 each has his particular means of producing this eflfect ; in 
 poetry, because people fail to realize the varied means of 
 reaching this goal, the critic is too likely to insist upon "some 
 particular quiddity, which, entering into composition consti- 
 tutes it genuinely poetic, beautiful, or artistic." For this rea- 
 son the criticism of poetry is usually limited. A man remem- 
 bers that he has been pleased by a poem in a certain style, and 
 concludes that that style is the only source of beauty.*^ I 
 must quote Morley's opposing view, not only for the imme- 
 diate thought in mind, but because it shows him as a selective 
 critic : "Why not rather perceive that, to take contemporaries, 
 the beauty of Thyrsis is mainly produced by a fine suffusion 
 of delicately-toned emotion; that of Atalanta by splendid and 
 barely rivalled music of verse ; of In Memoriam by its ordered 
 and harmonious presentation of a sacred mood ; of the Spanish 
 Gypsy, in the parts where it reaches beauty, by a sublime ethi- 
 cal passion; of the Earthly Paradise, by sweet and simple re- 
 *3 Studies, pp. 265-266. 
 
 28 
 
production of the spirit of the younger-hearted times?" As 
 fully satisfying the requirements of an artistic triumph Mor- 
 ley cites the Ring and the Book ; it abounds in "many-coloured 
 scenes and diverse characters, in vivid image and portraiture, 
 wide reflection and multiform emotion," and combines in unity 
 of thought all these impressions into one "supreme and ele- 
 vated conviction."" 
 
 It would be an easy matter to extend the list of such ref- 
 erences, to indicate what Morley thought of this poem or of 
 that. There would be but little profit however in the enumer- 
 ation; additional examples would merely duplicate those al- 
 ready given. I may be permitted a few concluding remarks. 
 
 The dangers inherent in the criticism which is founded on 
 rationalism are many. The obvious pitfall is this, that the 
 critic will be so intent in his pursuit of those who have shown 
 evidence of the positivistic spirit or who have contributed, in 
 his opinion, to the progress of mankind, that he will overlook 
 consciously the less intellectual features of the poetry con- 
 sidered. "Stray graces" are readily sacrificed in the pageantry 
 of history; a scrutiny of the human heart is included only 
 with difficulty in a survey of gigantic forces. Or again, if the 
 critic admits the validity of these kindlier elements, he may 
 do so with a degree of condescension which will alienate those 
 to whom the emotional appeal of poverty is of first importance 
 and so not to be treated concessively. Furthermore, the ra- 
 tionalistic critic may read poetry through colored lenses ; he 
 may be too ready to reconcile the thoughts of a poet with the 
 formalism of rationalistic philosophy. 
 
 Fortunately, there is divergence in criticism even among 
 rationalists; there is no uniform criticism of poetry from the 
 school ; we cannot point to any one writer as inclusive of the 
 others. One will reject the entire corpus of poetry; another 
 will overstress the value of feeling; a third — I am thinking of 
 Morley — will establish the more proper unity of thought and 
 emotion. 
 
 We should be judging against the evidence gathered together 
 in. the preceding pages if we were to conclude that Morley has 
 avoided all the dangers previously mentioned. The rational- 
 istic bias is too evident. The reader feels at times that Mor- 
 ley has discovered, positivistically, that the affections are es- 
 
 ** Idem. p. 267. 
 
 29 
 
sential ; as though, to quote Stevenson, "those delicate tissues 
 where the soul resides and does her earthly business" were not 
 the prime constituents. They seem frequently to be admitted 
 only by sanction of the intellect. And yet, there is sufihcient 
 evidence on the other hand to show that Morley has judged 
 expressions of feeling as they should be judged — intuitively. 
 
 The rationalistic bias has been emphasized, perhaps unduly, 
 by critics. Sufficient stress, however, has not been placed on 
 the synthesis which Morley has attempted. The components 
 of thought and feeling were already present in rationalistic 
 philosophy, but, unfortunately for purposes of literary criti- 
 cism, the latter was sinking into a quite negligible position. 
 It is a mark of superior intellect in Morley that he has recog- 
 nized the compelling power of the affections in conjunction 
 with the formal intellectuality of his philosophy. By means 
 of that recognition he has produced criticism which has the 
 singular merit of not being derivative; we are not reminded 
 at this thought or that expression of other writers. Of itself 
 such a virtue is by no means trivial. It means in sum that 
 the critic has been enabled through his extended reading and 
 his selective philosophy to formulate an original critical for- 
 mula, and, by adhering in broad outline to that formula, to 
 produce original criticism. 
 
 30 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 MORLEY'S CRITICISM OF PROSE 
 
 In the following pages I am going to discuss Morley's criti- 
 cism of certain prose writers. I shall pay particular attention 
 to his essays on Carlyle and on Macaulay, and shall consider, 
 but only very briefly, his criticisms of George Eliot, Harriet 
 Martineau, and Emerson. 
 
 I shall bring forward proof to show that Morley has 
 judged the authors just mentioned according to his philosophy; 
 and in so doing I shall support the main point of the first chap- 
 ter, namely, that Morley's criticism is moulded by his phi- 
 losophy. So far then I shall be treating his criticism of poetry 
 and of prose similarly. 
 
 In regard to the second point emphasized in the previous 
 chapter — that Morley has judged intuitively at times — a cer- 
 tain qualification is necessary. The reason for this qualifica- 
 tion is to be found in the character of the subjects treated; for 
 there are essential differences between criticism of prose and 
 criticism of poetry. 
 
 Poetry appeals particularly to our intuitions; we may pro- 
 nounce a poem good or bad without resorting to an analysis 
 of the thought which it contains. Thus, the Ode on Immor- 
 tality has an immediate charm for the lover of poetry; to a 
 philosopher, when he is in a mood to criticize the thought, the 
 poem may be of but little value. I have cited Mill's favorable 
 criticism of the style of the Ode and his rejection of its phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 The majority of prose writers, on the other hand, offer at 
 once a challenge to the intellect. Thought is of first, form of 
 secondary importance. To pass satisfactory judgment on their 
 work we must analyze and weigh opinions. This statement is 
 true, I say, of the majority of writers ; that there are many 
 to whom we look for form rather than for thought is undeni- 
 able. I am probably safe in stating that Burton in his An- 
 atomy does not at all interest the reader by fully documented 
 expositions of the ills of mankind ; that the same reader is not 
 
 31 
 
much concerned with Sir Thomas Browne's brand of Protes- 
 tantism as he explains it in the ReHgio Medici; and that the 
 reason for the love we bear Jeremy Taylor is not to be sought 
 in his opinions as a minister. The judgments of these writers 
 do not hold our interest so much as does the manner in which 
 they are expressed. 
 
 Morley has refrained in general from a criticism of this sec- 
 ond type of prose writer. We shall find the reason for this 
 omission in his critical formula; the thought of an author is of 
 more value than the form of expression. Furthermore, he 
 has selected for the most part writers who were either di- 
 rectly opposed to his own position, or who showed decided 
 sympathy with rationalism. 
 
 This selection must influence a critic's approach to Morley. 
 There cannot be much discussion of intuitive taste when those 
 writers who might have been judged by it have been avoided. 
 I must place emphasis accordingly on the relation of Morley's 
 criticism to his philosophy. There is not lacking, however, a 
 criticism of prose style, and to this I shall turn afterward in 
 order to effect a balance. I shall then finally consider the 
 style of Morley, himself. 
 
 A professional man of letters, to whom his calling is at 
 once his life's business and his pleasure, finds the expressing 
 of his opinions on the value of literature a congenial task. 
 But it is not often that a professional man of letters enters 
 the more active field of politics and still retains for his earlier 
 vocation complete sympathy and a sense of its indispensable 
 worth. Morley is a notable example. Whether we judge his 
 work from his earHer writings or from those written after he 
 had taken his seat in Parliament, we shall find the same esti- 
 mate of the value of literature, the same standard applied to 
 it. His opinions therefore are doubly valuable: they have hot 
 only the authority of his wide reading and clear understand- 
 ing, but are strengthened by having stood the test of his ex- 
 perience in public life. 
 
 The student of Morley's essays is not perplexed when he 
 learns that the author, after having established a reputation as 
 a critic during the course of some fifteen years, turned to a 
 field so different from that of belles lettres, because the dif- 
 ference clearly lies rather in the relative amount of action than 
 
 32 
 
in the trend of thought. The change did not imply a breach 
 in the continuity of Morley's purposes. He had already found 
 in literature the guidance and consolation suited to a states- 
 man. Had the poet Gray given up his Cambridge seclusion for 
 a place in Parliament, we might reasonably question the wis- 
 dom of his course ; but when J. S. Mill or Morley becomes a 
 public servant, the new hfe is, as it were, a pragmatic test of 
 rationalistic or utilitarian doctrines. A more convincing state- 
 ment in regard to Morley's public life is not required of me; 
 the proof will be part of the task of Morley's fortunate bi- 
 ographer, whoever he may be. Let it suffice for present pur- 
 poses if I can set forth Morley's opinions on the function of 
 literature, and so show that literature to him is a practical art. 
 
 Literature ranks high for Morley as one of the humanizing 
 arts, although not as the greatest of these. What is it, he 
 asks, that earns for literature its important place? The 
 answer is that literature is the "master organon for giving 
 men the two precious qualities of interest and balance of judg- 
 ment." Unfortunately, literature has been associated too 
 often, he adds, with virtuosity and affectations, as a "thing 
 of madrigals."^ Cardinal Newman's opinion is quoted with 
 approval,^ that the object of literature is "to open the mind, 
 to correct it, to refine it." It cherishes within us the ideal ; and 
 while not a substitute for life and action, it reconciles us to 
 the discipline of life, and gives us an understanding of what is 
 best in others and in ourselves.^ The end of a literary edu- 
 cation, we learn,* is "to make a man and not a cyclopaedia, to 
 make a citizen and not an album of elegant extracts" ; liter- 
 ature is a powerful instrument for forming character and re- 
 enforcing reason with knowledge. History and literature are 
 "only embodiments, illustrations, experiments, for ideas about 
 religion, conduct, society, history, government, and all the 
 other great heads and departments of a complete social doc- 
 trine."^ 
 
 What then is his definition of literature? For the most 
 part, literature is a "hollow and pretentious phantasmagoria of 
 
 1 Voltaire, p. ii8. 
 
 2 Studies, pp. 2II-2I2. 
 
 3 Idem, pp. 20I-202. 
 * Idem, pp. 226-227. 
 
 5 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 141. 
 
 33 
 
mimic figures posing in breeches and perukes" f nearly all 
 literature is distinctly secondary, serving to pass the time. of 
 the leisured class, without influencing men or women/ The 
 man of letters is usually unable to conceive of any higher ser- 
 vice than the composition of books. ^ With such generalities 
 we must consider on the positive side this more formal defi- 
 nition : literature consists of "all books — and they are not so 
 many — where moral truth and human passion are touched with 
 a certain largeness, sanity, and attraction of form." All is 
 literature that teaches us to know man and human nature.* 
 A study of literature is a study of the most important side 
 of history;^*' the study does not end with a knowledge of 
 forms, with finding the key to rhythm, although, Morley adds, 
 he does not condema these. But of more importance are those 
 studies which bring to the soul of man soberness, righteous- 
 ness, and wisdom.^^ 
 
 This definition of literature may be made more detailed by 
 means of a few references in which Morley interprets the na- 
 ture of the task which the man of letters must perform. He 
 must seriously advance social interests and must add something 
 •to human stature ;^^ unless he have a "presentiment of the 
 eve; a feeling of the difficulties that will engage and distract 
 mankind on the morrow," his work will be transitory. ^^ The 
 best kind of bookman is he who "explores through books the 
 voyages of the human reason, the shifting impulses of the 
 heart, the chequered fortunes of great human conceptions." 
 He must not linger over abstract ideas or literary effects, but 
 must reveal the "moral and intellectual configuration" of his 
 subjects.^* In order to reach excellence in literature, one 
 must have "self-possession ; a double current of impulse and 
 deliberation; a free stream of ideas spontaneously obeying a 
 sense of order, harmony, and form."^^ 
 
 * Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 304. 
 
 '' Miscellanies, vol. 2, p. 148. 
 
 8 Voltaire, p. 17. 
 
 ^ Studies, p. 218. 
 
 1* Idem, p. 220. 
 
 ^1 Idem, p. 226. 
 
 ^2 Miscellanies, vol. 2, p. 148. 
 
 ^^ Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 290. 
 
 1* Miscellanies, vol. 3, p. 166. 
 
 15 Diderot, vol. i, p. 42. 
 
 34 
 
For Morley the "force of speculative literature depends on 
 practical opportuneness/' and he has taken care to exemplify 
 this in his own work. The practical needs of the day are para- 
 mount. From those needs arises a desire for an inspiring so- 
 cial faith, for a faith that is born of meditation rather than 
 of reverie. The animating faith, he writes, which consoles 
 and sustains hosts of men and women is a conviction of "up- 
 ward and onward progress in the destinies of mankind" ; the 
 liturgy of the new faith is culture, and its deity is a "certain 
 high composure of the human heart. "^"^ 
 
 I could extend the list of references but I refrain from doing 
 so. The reader can find in any of Morley's volumes the same 
 principles insisted on with the same confidence ; Morley has 
 gathered them together, if in one volume more than in an- 
 other, in Ou Compromise. The individual's position relative 
 to society, the obligations of society to the individual, the fu- 
 tility of violence and the necessity for tolerance — these are 
 some of the principles which he continually emphasizes and 
 by means of which he would fashion a true citizen and not 
 an "album of elegant extracts." The words of one of his 
 critics would sound pleasant to Morley : "A young man might 
 do far worse than to form himself, intellectually, upon the 
 writings of an author so serious in tone and purpose, so clear 
 in thought and expression . . ."^^ 
 
 In no biographical study has Morley expressed his principles 
 so clearly as in the essay on Carlyle. Valuable as it is as a 
 commentary on Carlyle, it is of still more value as a statement 
 of Morley's opposition to many of the tenets which Carlyle 
 proclaimed. 
 
 Morley in a vigorous passage expresses his belief that the 
 most important service which Carlyle rendered was the neutral- 
 ization of the Byronic influence. He mentions points of re- 
 semblance between Carlyle and Byron : each complained against 
 the time and its spirit, each possessed something of the same 
 despair and a sense of man's puniness in the immensity of the 
 universe. Carlyle even surpassed Byron in holding vehement- 
 ly to these beliefs. "Carlylism is the male of Byronism. It 
 is Byronism with thew and sinew, bass pipe and shaggy 
 
 1*5 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 211. 
 "Dial, vol. 7, p. 40 (1886). 
 
 35 
 
bosom."^® Against the Romantic mood, Morley continues, the 
 ordinary moralist was without effect; only a revolutionist can 
 overthrow a revolutionist. The sole deliverance from the 
 malign influence was to be found in Carlyle's gospel of work, 
 of duty done, and of service bravely performed. Morley ques- 
 tions whether Carlyle's important work did not end with this 
 neutralization of Byron's influence. 
 
 He gives Carlyle full credit for having stimulated the moral 
 energy of his generation. He praises Carlyle's "natural super- 
 naturalism" — a recognition of the immensity which surrounds 
 us, and of the value of aspiring to penetrate its mysteries. 
 This philosophy, Morley believes, was the result of Carlyle's 
 revolt from the unelevated positivity of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, and of his study of the transcendentalism of his own day. 
 Nevertheless, the Eternities and the Immensities of which 
 Carlyle has written so vehemently are not unrelated to life; 
 and if we look closely we may see that they have veiled Car- 
 lyle's adherence to a practical formula. 
 
 Wherein, then, is to be found the diverging point of view 
 which has led Morley to write an essay which in spite of 
 much eulogy is fundamentally hostile? Certainly the reason 
 cannot be found in any failure on Carlyle's part to recognize 
 contemporary evils and in a cogent manner to preach against 
 them. Neither may we say that Carlyle has not posited a defi- 
 nite goal, nor that he has failed to expound the means of 
 achieving it. The main reason is Morley 's dislike of Carlyle's 
 violence and dogmatism in moral judgment. Morley misses 
 the catholic sympathy which enables a man to see good on 
 both sides and to understand the motives of those who are 
 different from himself and have different moral standards. 
 Therein lies a cardinal element of Morley's teaching; it is 
 necessary to illustrate his attitude by direct references to his 
 writings. 
 
 The inability of English writers to think of conduct ex- 
 cept as right or wrong, and of teaching except as true or false 
 has been, in Morley's opinion, at the root of much injustice 
 and darkness. "We have simply got for our pains a most un- 
 lovely leanness of judgment, and ever since the days when this 
 temper set in until now, when a wholesome rebellion is afoot, 
 it has steadily and powerfully tended to straiten character, 
 
 18 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 162. 
 
 36 
 
to make action mechanical, and to impoverish art. As if there 
 were nothing admirable in man save unbroken obedience to the 
 letter of the moral law, and that letter read in our own casual 
 and local interpretation; and as if we had no faculties of 
 sympathy, no sense for the beauty of character, no feeling for 
 broad force and full-pulsing vitality. "^^ In Voltaire a similar 
 thought is expressed. Criticism is concerned not so much with 
 praise or blame as with marking out the material from which 
 a man has his life to make; the critic is not obliged to settle 
 whether a man was absolutely rich or absolutely poor ; his 
 business is to count up his subject's talents and to indicate the 
 usury of his own which has been added to them.^° I call the 
 reader's attention also to a passage in Rousseau: it is the "busi- 
 ness of criticism to separate what is accidental in form, tran- 
 sitory in manner, and merely local in suggestion, from the gen- 
 eral ideas which live under a casual and particular literary 
 robe."-^ We are able consequently to understand Morley's 
 disapproval of Macaulay, when he states that to Macaulay 
 "criticism was only a tribunal before which men were brought 
 to be decisively tried by one or two inflexible tests, and then 
 sent to join the sheep on the one hand, or the goats on the 
 other."-2 
 
 In brief, Morley speaks for humanity, for tolerance, for 
 breadth of vision, against a sectarian, a provincial, a journal- 
 istic, an oratorical, or any other limitation of moral judgment 
 which offends enlightened reason. And it is because Carlyle 
 is essentially intolerant that Morley is irked by his emphasis. 
 When Carlyle exclaims, "Caitiff, we hate thee," Morley adds, 
 "But this is slightly vague. It is not scientific. There are 
 caitiffs and caitiffs. There is a more and a less of scoundrel- 
 ism — and we must have systematic jurisprudence, with its 
 classification of caitiffs and its graduated blasting."^^ 
 
 Observe, however, that in expressing his dislike of Carlyle's 
 dogmatism, Morley does not forget his own latitudinarianism. 
 When we consider Carlyle's opposition to the writers whom 
 Morley held most dear — J. S. Mill, Bentham, and Comte — then 
 
 18 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 183. 
 
 20 Voltaire, p. 98. 
 
 21 Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 19. 
 
 22 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 184. 
 
 23 Idem, p. 150. 
 
 37 
 
the extent to which Morley has applied his principle of criti- 
 cism is apparent. Without having renounced a single propo- 
 sition of his rationalism, and without any loss of forcefulness, 
 he has expressed as full an appreciation of Carlyle's services 
 as we could rightly demand. Carlyle, in his opinion, despite 
 the survival of much narrowness of judgment, was much in 
 advance of his contemporaries. The reason for this greater 
 freedom of appraisal Morley finds in his "'poetised utilitarian- 
 ism, or illumined positivity," by means of which Carlyle was 
 able to see more in his characters than was allowed according 
 to the common standard. Thus, for example, Carlyle found 
 more in Burns than drunkenness, unchastity, and thriftless- 
 ness ; and by his freer judgment did much to offset the limi- 
 tations of the standard which Puritanism introduced into 
 criticism. Morley finds the point worthy of remark, that in 
 spite of the many emphatic statements which Carlyle has made 
 about a large number of men of different opinions and temper- 
 aments, there i'^ scarcely one from which we may dissent as 
 being absurd or futile. 
 
 Let us depart for a while from the essay under discussion 
 in order that we may study more fully the matter of tolerance 
 in Morley's writings. One of his favorite thoughts, impressed 
 on him originally by Burke, is that contained in the state- 
 ment, "You cannot justly draw a capital indictment against 
 a class."^* Of course, Morley does not recommend that type 
 of so-called broad-mindedness which is so broad that it never 
 comes to a conclusion, and to which any definite stand is ob- 
 noxious. The sense of the statement is given in a passage 
 from the essay on Joseph deMaistre. Considering the diver- 
 sity of effort that is necessary for the advancement of man- 
 kind, Morley writes, men are not sufficiently anxious to gather 
 up the fragments of truth, and as a result the writings of 
 antagonists are frequently left unexamined.-^ In the study on 
 W. R. Greg, a writer absolutely opposed to Morley, this omis- 
 sion is attributed to a failure to realize that character is more 
 than opinion. Morley considers literature neutral ground : on 
 it "we may forget the loud cries and sounding strokes, the 
 watchwords and the tactics of the tented field, and fraternize 
 with the adversary of the eve and the morrow in friendly 
 
 2< Rousseau, vol. 2. p. 140. 
 
 25 Miscellanies, vol. 2, pp. 258-259. 
 
 38 
 
curiosity and liberal recognition."^*' The same thought is ex- 
 pressed in the essay on Robespierre : our opinions are much 
 less important than the spirit and temper with which we hold 
 them, and even good opinions are not worth much if we do 
 not hold them intelligently and broadly.-' 
 
 The virtue of such an attitude is clearly recognizable. For 
 illustration we turn naturally to the writings of J. S. Mill. 
 He has shown that a firm opposition need not be accompanied 
 by a narrow dogmatism or by violent language ; by reason 
 alone of his abstention from abusive phrases he deserves the 
 appellation which Gladstone gave him — "the saint of rational- 
 ism." But Mill is one of the few writers who could dispense 
 with invective ; the battles of the Victorians could not gener- 
 ally be waged without the excesses and the violently expressed 
 prejudices which every strife engenders. 
 
 In Morley's essays the virtue is not so clearly in evidence as 
 in those of his master, Mill. Breadth of judgment is of 
 course not wanting; the range of his subjects and his ability 
 to sympathize with leaders so diverse as the men of whom he 
 has written furnish sufficient proof that Morley is not limited 
 in mental scope. But we wish that he were not so obviously 
 coercive; that he had not so often used the common phrase- 
 ology of invective. It must be borne in mind, however, that 
 severe phrases do not indicate blindness to the good qualities 
 of those criticized. Because Morley writes that Great Britain 
 is overrun and corroded to the heart "with cant and a foul 
 mechanical hypocrisy," we are not to assume that he is with- 
 out a sense of all that is valuable in contemporary life. On the 
 contrary, he writes approvingly of his age as a time when 
 there were the first signs of reason's coming into her own, 
 when positive scientific thinking replaced earlier haphazard 
 generalizing, and the true historical method was developed.^® 
 
 His most conspicuous failure in tolerance is found in his 
 attitude toward Christianity, in regard to which Mill was ex- 
 ceedingly circumspect and restrained. Morley can sympa- 
 thize with any attitude toward a religious system except be- 
 lief in it. Of that he denies any share. Those who agree with 
 
 2« Miscellanies, vol. 3, p. 213. 
 2^ Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 78. 
 
 28 See, among other possible references. Miscellanies, vol. 1, pp. 211, 
 220, 241. 
 
 39 
 
him, he states, are not sceptics: "they positively, absolutely 
 and without reserve, reject as false the whole system of ob- 
 jective propositions which make up the popular belief of the 
 day, in one and all of its theological expressions. "^^ There is 
 no indication of the slightest deviation on his part from this 
 avowal. In order to show clearly his attitude, I am obliged to 
 refer at some length to his criticism of religion. 
 
 Perhaps too well known is his use of small initial letters 
 in the words God, Catholic, Christ, Bible, Holy Ghost, Wes- 
 leyanism (compared with the capital of Voltairism!), par- 
 ticularly in evidence in Rousseau. Fortunately he gave over 
 the practice; aside from the questions of reverence and of 
 courtesy, it is awkward stylistically. Frequently he is face- 
 tious, as when he writes of "this strange absentee government" 
 — God in remote parts,^" whom he styles elsewhere^^ as a "grim 
 chief justice of the universe, which criminal lawyers and others 
 are trying to deck with the right official robes and to seat on 
 the bench in our day" ; the belief in a beneficent Supreme Be- 
 ing is accepted by the prosperous ; it is the superlative mark of 
 optimism.^^ Morley wonders why we must always call an un- 
 known God by the one name, as though there were so few 
 tasks on earth to be done that one must strain to fix the 
 regimen of heaven. ^^ He takes occasion to interject a bitter 
 word in Rousseau, whose biographer, he writes, has no such 
 stories to tell as those of Calas and LaBarre in the life of 
 Voltaire, but only tales of a woman wrongfully accused of 
 theft, and of a friend left senseless on the pavement of a 
 strange town. Such a man (Rousseau) was moved to "speak 
 a zealous word in vindication of the divine government of our 
 world."^* Quite puerile and unwarranted is the jest in re- 
 gard to the trip of Hume and Rousseau from Calais to Do- 
 ver: "Hume, as the orthodox may be glad to know, being 
 extremely ill."^^ 
 
 29 On Compromise, p. i6o. 
 
 30 Voltaire, p. 96. 
 
 31 Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 267. 
 
 32 Voltaire, pp. 277-278. 
 
 33 Idem, p. 292. 
 
 3* Rousseau, vol. i, p. 318. 
 
 35 Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 284. And yet, in thinking of Condorcet's 
 antipathy to Christianity, Morley writes : "Well, this temper is not 
 the richest nor the highest." (Miscellanies, vol. 2, pp. 176-177.) 
 
 40 
 
Particularly violent are his criticisms of the clergy and of 
 church organization as a whole. The pulpit is called "that 
 colossal type of histrionic failure" f^ the language used in the 
 pulpit does not differ from that of the atheist Holbach, ex- 
 cept that the rebuke of the latter (against the pride of man) 
 was sincere and necessary to prepare men's minds for the con- 
 ception of the universe as a whole. The theologians, however, 
 use the rebuke as a hollow shift in order to insinuate the 
 miracle of Grace.*^ But Morley can be harsher than this 
 even ; thus, he writes, the AngUcan clergy were the rivals in 
 bigotry of George the Third ;^^ the bishops and ecclesiasts are 
 the "organized hierachy of ignorance, insolence, and oppres- 
 sion in all times and places where they raise their masked 
 heads. "^^ He classes the "hack moralist of the pulpit" with 
 that of the press, men to whom words are cheap and easily 
 thrown forth.*" The church system "has raised monstrous 
 floods of sour cant round about us, and hardened the hearts 
 and parched the sympathies of men by blasts from theological 
 deserts."*^ Incessant celestial contemplation enervates the 
 reason.*^ The desire for social righteousness is lacking only 
 in those nations in which the spiritual power is limited to 
 castes and state churches which "bury justice under the sterile 
 accumulations of a fixed superstition."*^ The fallacy of as- 
 sociating durable morality with a transitory faith was evident, 
 he holds, in the eighteenth century in France. Chaos of 
 morals must always result when sound ethics are built on 
 the shifting sands and rotting foundations of theology.** On 
 the material side, also, disaster is apparent to Morley. The 
 atrocities of the Terror are to him but an invisible speck com- 
 pared with the atrocities of Christian churchmen, although he 
 admits that these evils have been committed by those who have 
 justified their actions by "stray texts caught up from the 
 
 36 Diderot, vol. i, p. 327. 
 
 37 Diderot, vol. 2, p. 177. 
 88 Burke, p. 8. 
 
 39 Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 55. 
 
 40 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 184. 
 *i Idem, p. 185. 
 
 *2 Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 36. 
 
 *3 Miscellanies, vol. 2, p. 180. 
 
 *■* Diderot, vol. i, p. 74. 
 
 41 
 
gospels."*^ Saint Bartholomew he names the "patron saint 
 of Christian enormities."*'* 
 
 Morley at times rivals Carlyle in vehement denunciation of 
 eighteenth century Catholicism. The object of Voltaire's as- 
 sault, we are told, was "'that amalgam of metaphysical sub- 
 tleties, degrading legends, false miracles, and narrow deprav- 
 ing conceptions of divine government which made the starting- 
 point and vantage-ground of those ecclesiastical oppressors, 
 whom he habitually and justly designated the enemies of the 
 human race."*^ It was the "weakness and unsightly decrepi- 
 tude of the ecclesiasts" which prepared the way for modern 
 thinking.** For the Catholic of the eighteenth century the 
 sacrament became the "hateful ensign of human degradation, 
 of fanatical cruelty, of rancorous superstition."*^ 
 
 My comment, then, is justified : Morley has used the same 
 vocabulary for which he has expressed his distaste. To be 
 sure, he does not indulge in the "boisterous horseplay of the 
 transcendental humorist," but his expressions too often lack 
 the dignity which we would find in them ; nor do they gain 
 in force by means of their violence. I have made the list ex- 
 tensive with a definite purpose in mind; I wish to avoid the 
 charge of having selected a few detached phrases as the basis 
 of a generalization. Morley, writing in 1888, states: "Of 
 course it is easy enough to fish out a sentence or a short pas- 
 sage here or there, which, if taken by itself, may wear a very 
 sinister look, and carry the most alarming impressions." Cer- 
 tainly the number of references just given is not open to the 
 charge implied in "here or there." Morley admits that there 
 were many needlessly aggressive passages which ought to have 
 been omitted because they gave pain to good people ; but he 
 sees no reason to depart from any of the opinions which are 
 stated in the passages. "There may have been a too eager 
 tone ; but to be eager is not a very bad vice at any age under 
 the critical forty."'^" 
 
 *' Rousseau, vol. 2, pp. 140-141. See, also, Diderot, vol. i, p. 198. 
 ** Cromwell, p. 371. 
 *'' Voltaire, pp. 223-224. 
 <* Diderot, vol. i, p. 151. 
 
 *^ Idem, p. 157. See, also, Diderot, vol. 2, p. 205; Voltaire, p. 41; 
 Miscellanies, vol. 2, pp. 335-336; Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 254. 
 60 Studies, pp. 163, ff. See Valedictory, Fortn. R., vol. 38, p. 511. 
 
 42 
 
In order to show both sides of Morley's criticism of re- 
 hgion, I shall need to consider his remarks favorable to Chris- 
 tianity. The very writer who was scathing in his comments 
 on the church in the eighteenth century has stated that his 
 French republican friends have accused him of having ideal- 
 ized the Roman Catholic Church. °^ Why? He holds that 
 many of their maxims were immoral, that their malice was 
 pernicious, and that, in the years of their decrepitude, the 
 cupidity of the order was monstrous. Nevertheless, from the 
 Jesuits many men of letters acquired ''that practical and so- 
 cial habit of mind" which made the world real to the clergy. ^^ 
 It is evident that the members of the order were not ignorant 
 of his more acceptable criticism, and that his efforts to write 
 justly of them prevented what would otherwise, have been, on 
 their part, a most natural alienation. He writes in regard to 
 a visit to the Jesuits in Rome: "We parted with the most 
 prodigious compliment ever paid by any Father-general to 
 any Agnostic: 'During the rest of your stay in Rome, your 
 Excellency will be good enough to regard my society as wholly 
 at your command.' "^^ 
 
 In the previous chapter I brought out the thought that 
 Morley is not insensible to what he has called the "finer mel- 
 odies of the soul." I wish to show that in regard to re- 
 ligion, in which the dogmatic attitude is as likely as in poetry 
 to dull the sensibilities, Morley is not without the "instincts of 
 holiness," and that his hostile criticism is directed purely 
 against dogma and church organization. 
 
 He admits, for instance, — even maintains — that Catholicism 
 in its earlier form administered to life as a whole, stimulating 
 and satisfying the best instincts of mankind.^* Protestantism, 
 he states, was a strong liberalizing agent in the eighteenth 
 century, in that it weakened the conception of authority f^ he 
 even takes occasion to mention the aid which Wesley rendered 
 in opposing the slave trade.^^ Many passages on the religious 
 
 " Recollections, vol. 2, p. 196. 
 '>2 Diderot, vol. I, p. 17. 
 
 53 Recollections, vol. i, p. 38. See, also, Diderot, vol. i, pp. 16 ff., for 
 favorable estimate of Jesuits. 
 5* Diderot vol. i, p. 99; Voltaire, p. 2. 
 ^^ Voltaire, p. 63. 
 *>* Miscellanies, vol. 4, p. 123. 
 
 43 
 
spirit bear testimony to his sense of its beauty. He defines 
 piety thus : "Resignation and Renunciation — not sullen nor 
 frigid, nor idle nor apathetic, but open, benign, firm, patient, 
 very pitiful and of tender mercy — is not this what we mean 
 by piety ?"^" Holiness: "It is a name for an inner grace of 
 nature, an instinct of the soul, by which, though knowing of 
 earthly appetites and worldly passions, the spirit, purifying 
 itself of these, and independent of all reason, argument, and 
 the fierce struggles of the will, dwells in living, patient, and 
 confident communion with the seen and the unseen Good."^* 
 It is characteristic of Morley to add at the conclusion of this 
 definition that "we are being drawn into matters that are far 
 too high — for the present writer." In a truly beautiful pas- 
 sage he tells of the inspiration we may derive from the il- 
 lustrious dead of the Church, even though we have lost faith 
 in their beliefs : "We touch the hands of those who have 
 walked with the most high, and they tell us many moving 
 wonders ; we look on faces that have shone in rays from the 
 heaven of noble thoughts; we hear solemn and melodious 
 words from men who received answers from oracles that to 
 us are very mute, but the memory of whose power is still upon 
 us."^^ And continuing this thought elsewhere, he writes that 
 the memory of all those by whom spirituality has been quick- 
 ened should be cherished ; we must learn to see more in men 
 than the outer trappings, for the "spirit of man moves in 
 mysterious ways, and expands like the plants of the field with 
 strange and silent stirrings. "^° He writes with regret of Vol- 
 taire's lack of spirituality, and rejoices in the "most priceless 
 excellence of a capacity for veneration" which Rousseau pos- 
 sessed." For the "sublime mystic of the Galilean hills"''- he 
 has only praise ; without the spirituality for which He stood 
 it is impossible to reconstruct society.®^ The only true syn- 
 thesis is that which unites the reasoning powers of man with 
 spirituality, without derogating from either.'^* The failure of 
 
 57 Idem, p. 143. 
 
 58 Miscellanies, vol. 4, p. 144. See, also, Voltaire, p. 242. 
 
 59 Voltaire, p. 275. See, also. Miscellanies, vol. 4, p. 93. 
 
 60 Rousseau, vol. i, pp. 128-129. 
 
 61 Idem, p. 196. 
 
 62 Idem, p. 4. 
 
 63 Voltaire, p. 350. 
 
 6* Rousseau, vol. 2, p. 276. 
 
 44 
 
Christianity is clear to Morley. The religion of Christ re- 
 mains to be tried, but the form will be so changed that the new 
 religion will deserve another name.®^ 
 
 A brief comment on the situation just presented. We have 
 found much hostile criticism from Morley of organized Chris- 
 tianity, and, on the other hand, an expression of deep feeling 
 for things of the spirit. The attempt at a balance, however, 
 in which opposition to the Church is weighed against an appre- 
 ciation of spirituality and of the Church's part in fostering it, 
 should not blind us to the quite obvious violation of one of the 
 maxims which Morley wished to enforce. I refer to the mat- 
 ter of broad judgments, and the necessity of restraint in criti- 
 cizing institutions to which we may be opposed. And the 
 virtue of such a restraint is the more apparent in the present 
 instance because Morley elsewhere, as a critic of literature, has 
 so generally found the middle way. Clearly he has departed 
 from the standard set up by Mill, the teacher whom he will- 
 ingly followed in matters of thought. He has introduced un- 
 necessary animosity into his criticisms of the Church to such 
 an extent that his comments are a dissonance in the writings 
 of one from whom, if precept and example had prevailed, a 
 calmer and more recollected judgment were more appropriate. 
 
 I have been led into a long discussion, which has consider- 
 able interest. I return to Morley's essay on Carlyle. One 
 reason for its hostile turn, I have stated, is Morley's dislike 
 of Carlyle's dogmatic and intolerant morality. But this is not 
 the full explanation. His opposition to Carlyle, in so far as 
 he was opposed to him, is due to his belief in the necessity of 
 an ordered and disciplined method in the criticism of social 
 phenomena. 
 
 Morley's position may be briefly stated. In mental discipline 
 alone lies the renovation of England ; without it, sweeping 
 generalities and invective, no matter how much truth they may 
 contain, must depend on mood and time for their recognition. 
 To be made permanently useful, broad criticism must be sup- 
 ported by fact clarified in the light of an ordered intelligence. 
 There must be an organization of the faculties, or we shall in 
 no way recover from that anarchy of the intellect which is 
 traceable to Rousseau. He recognizes that, in an age when 
 
 65 Miscellanies, vol. 2, pp. 335-336. 
 
 45 
 
faith has been bitterly attacked and in great measure over- 
 thrown, there will be much disordered groping after something 
 to satisfy the longings of mankind; but he refuses to admit 
 the necessity for such disordered groping. To the lack of 
 honest deliberation he attributes the current hypocrisy in re- 
 ligion and in politics; the cant against which Carlyle wrote 
 could be dissipated only by an ordered attack. It is thus that 
 he sums up the result of attempting to reform by means of 
 emotional expansiveness : "A hostile observer of bands of 
 Carlylites at Oxford and elsewhere might have been justified 
 in describing the imperative duty of work as the theme of 
 many an hour of strenuous idleness, and the superiority of 
 golden silence over silver speech as the text of endless bursts 
 of jerky rapture, while a too constant invective against cant 
 had its usual effect of developing cant with a difference."^® 
 
 Morley indicates his hostility still further by means of a 
 comparison of Carlyle and Rousseau. To Morley, as to many 
 another, Rousseau was the great example of the "dangerous 
 sophistry of the emotions"; Carlyle fulfilled for the nineteenth 
 century the functions of Rousseau.'^'^ "With each of them 
 thought is an aspiration, and justice a sentiment, and society a 
 retrogression. Each bids us look within our bosoms for truth 
 and light, postpones reason to feeling, and refers to introspec- 
 tion and a factitious something styled Nature, questions only 
 to be truly solved by external observation and history." Rous- 
 seau's books, Morley continues, lay on the table of the Com- 
 mittee of Public Safety; Carlyle has fostered a love for the 
 battlefield, for repression, a contempt for human life, and a 
 distaste for orderly solution. "We begin with introspection 
 and the eternities, and end in blood and iron." Rousseau 
 anathematized the science of his day ; Carlyle has denounced 
 logic mills, and subordinated the discipline of the mind to a 
 passionate assertion of the wiW. To Carlyle the dictates of a 
 kind heart are of more worth than the maxims of political 
 economy ; he has thrust away the only means by which we 
 
 ^^ Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 136. 
 
 ^'^ "An apology is perhaps needed for mentioning a man of such 
 simple, veracious, disinterested, and wholly high minded life, in the 
 same breath with one of the least sane men that ever lived. Com- 
 munity of method, like misery, makes men acquainted with strange 
 bedfellows". Idem, p. 147. 
 
 46 
 
may make sure of the right and come to an understanding of 
 wise and effective social action. With each, impotent unrest 
 is followed by what is socially an impotent solution. Neither 
 has an organizing policy, although Rousseau does aim at unity 
 by thinking of man as part of a collective whole. Carlyle 
 on the other hand lays all the emphasis on the separatist in- 
 stincts ; for him the individual stands alone in the face of the 
 Eternities ; between these and the soul exists the one central re- 
 lation. Such a teaching "has all the fundamental egotism of 
 the doctrine of personal salvation, emancipated from fable, and 
 varnished with an emotional phrase." The gospel of self- 
 renunciation, Morley states, is by none so favored as by the 
 well-to-do ; a private liturg}' for them might be composed from 
 Carlyle's sentences. Meanwhile, they forget his denunciations 
 of Beaver Industrialisms. Therein for Morley lies the evil of 
 an emotional teacher ; readers take only as much as they please 
 from him, while with a reasoner they either accept or reject by 
 reason, and do not select by simple choice. Admitting that 
 Carlyle was the "friendly fire-bearer who first conveyed the 
 Promethean spark/' Morley nevertheless believes that the 
 readiness to exhort and rebuke, and the excessive interest 
 about the soul might with profit have been converted into care 
 for the head. 
 
 So far, then, we have found that Morley is opposed to 
 Carlyle's dogmatism and to his lack of ordered thinking. An- 
 other reason for Morley's disapproval is. as we should expect, 
 an antipathy to hero-worship. This is only another form to 
 Morley of the anthropomorphic conception of deity, and leaves 
 out of consideration the eft'orts of the masses. One of the 
 finest passages in his writings is that in which he takes ex- 
 ception to this worship of the successful individual. Carlyle, 
 he states, summons us "to trim the lamp of endeavour at the 
 shrine of heroic chiefs of mankind. In that house there are 
 many mansions, the boisterous sanctuary of a vagabond poly- 
 theism. But each altar is individual and apart, and the reac- 
 tion of this isolation upon the egotistic instincts of the wor- 
 shipper has been only too evident. It is good for us to build 
 temples to great names which recall special transfigurations of 
 humanity ; but it is better still, it gives a firmer nerve to pur- 
 pose and adds a finer holiness to the ethical sense, to carry 
 ever with us the unmarked, yet living tradition of the voice- 
 
 47 
 
less unconscious effort of unnumbered millions of souls, flitting 
 lightly away like showers of thin leaves, yet ever augmenting 
 the elements of perfectness in man, and exalting the eternal 
 contest.''*'* In a tone less mild and in phrases not so poetic 
 he writes elsewhere*'^ that the "boisterous old notion of hero- 
 worship which has been preached by so eloquent a voice in 
 our age, is after all now seen to be a half-truth, and to con- 
 tain the less edifying and the less profitable half of the truth." 
 Again, he writes^" that historical hero-worship after Carlyle's 
 fashion is a mood which anyone who has been under the in- 
 fluence of Mill must find uncongenial. How, he asks, are we 
 to know the aristocracy of the best unless we have been taught 
 respect for intellectual truth? Morley doubts whether anyone 
 has ever learned from Carlyle the "precious lesson of scrupu- 
 losity and conscientiousness in actively and constantly using 
 the intelligence."^^ Hero-worship enthrones the successful 
 man ; right and wrong are dependent on success and failure ; 
 the end justifies the means. Carlyle, like Providence, is on the 
 side of big and victorious battalions. To him, virtue and 
 success, justice and victory, merit and triumph are identical. 
 The view, Morley writes, is anachronistic and takes us back 
 to prehistoric times. 
 
 Moreover, Morley opposes Carlyle's veneration of the suc- 
 cessful man with the statement, frequently found in his writ- 
 ings, that the best adherents of a fallen standard are usually 
 next in all good qualities to those who have been successful. 
 The test of worth to Morley, as it was to J. S. Mill, is not so 
 much the triumph of an opinion, nor even the opinion itself, 
 as the manner which a person adopts in holding to his opin- 
 ion. We have seen some evidence of Morley's unwillingness to 
 condemn quickly those who have strayed incidentally or even 
 recurrently from straight paths ; it is equally true that he re- 
 fuses to acclaim without qualification those who have met 
 with long-continued favor. The question to be decided is not 
 so much what a man has done, as what have been his aspira- 
 tions and the method of his conduct. 
 
 The true test of a hero to Morley, then, is this : "Does your 
 
 *8 Miscellanies, vol. i, pp. 190-191. 
 69 Miscellanies, vol. 3, pp. 34-35. 
 ''** Studies, p. 179. 
 71 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 157. 
 
 48 
 
hero's achievement go in the pathological or the moral direc- 
 tion?" In other words, is his standard that of the natural, 
 primitive life, or of the more civilized, social existence? If 
 the former, then the hero will tend to spread cunning, violence 
 and force, instead of respect for the law, for the pledged 
 word, for the habit of self-surrender to the public good/^ 
 Carlyle's teaching leads to the idolatry of the soldier, to whom 
 forces are of paramount importance, and principles of no 
 moment. It is easy, but short-sighted to "plant an iron heel 
 and call it order." Carlyle should have chosen for his hero 
 as man of letters one whose habit of thought would have led 
 men to exercise their reason, one from whom men might learn 
 the worth of discipline. Morley, accordingly, would substi- 
 tute Lessing for Rousseau. ^^ 
 
 We should notice in connection with Morley's criticism of 
 hero-worship his discussion of Emerson's doctrine of the in- 
 dividual. Emerson, he states, coming from the intuitional 
 camp, believes that any interference by the will vitiates our 
 moral nature. Here again Morley finds the doctrine of re- 
 generation by grace. The guide to conscience is the indwell- 
 ing light; although Emerson differs from the theologians in 
 not tracing either of these gifts to the choice and intervention 
 of a Deity. The strength to conquer temptation is not so 
 noble as impulsive innocence ; natural emotions are better 
 than voluntary ones. "In all this Emerson suffers from the 
 limitations that are inseparable from pure spiritualism in all 
 its forms. As if the spiritual constitution were ever inde- 
 pendent of the material organization bestowed upon the indi- 
 vidual at the moment when he is conceived, or of the social 
 conditions that close about him from the instant of his birth."^* 
 Nevertheless, Morley finds some value in Emerson's teaching 
 on this point ; unlike Carlyle, Emerson does not believe that 
 the only forces worth talking about are self-will, mastery, and 
 violent strength, but emphasizes the value of the emancipated 
 individual. 
 
 ^2 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 172. 
 
 ■^3 Miscellanies, vol. 3, p. 165. Note that Rousseau was not Carlyle's 
 first choice; Carlyle admits that Rousseau is "from a far inferior state 
 of circumstances," but that, in the existing condition of knowledge, it 
 would be "worse than useless" to write about one whom he pre- 
 ferred — Goethe. (Hero as Man of Letters.) 
 
 '^^ Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 232. 
 
 49 
 
Morley's appreciation of Emerson is one more point that 
 establishes his liberaUty of judgment. Emerson is not a sys- 
 tematic thinker ; he comes furthermore from a school opposed 
 to rationalism. Morley does not reject his teaching because of 
 this opposition, but, on the contrary, takes a sympathetic in- 
 terest in his writings. Let us grant, he says, that Emerson 
 was not a systematic thinker, that he was inconsistent on prin- 
 ciple; nevertheless, we must admit that the realm of thought 
 is so large that any glimpse of hidden matters should be cher- 
 ished. If we reject Emerson because he was not a logician, we 
 shall miss the secret of most of those who have given powerful 
 impulses to the spirituality of an age. Then we have this worthy 
 admission : "It is not a syllogism that turns the heart towards 
 purification of life and aim; it is not the logically enchained 
 propositions of a sorites, but the flash of illumination, the in- 
 definable accent, that attracts masses of men to a new teacher 
 and a high doctrine. The teasing ergoteur is always right, but 
 he never leads nor improves nor inspires."''^ 
 
 The attraction which any discussion of sociological prob- 
 lems has for Morley is independent of the medium of expres- 
 sion, be the form that of philosophic essay, biography, or novel. 
 His interest is first in thought, and in the second place only, 
 in form. I shall leave his essays on Carlyle and Emerson, 
 then, in order to notice briefly his criticisms of George Eliot, 
 Harriet Martineau, and Mark Pattison. 
 
 Morley's criticism of George Eliot is discriminating. He 
 approves the goal which she set herself : "the rousing of the 
 nobler emotions which make mankind desire the social right."^* 
 He believes, however, that the scientific quality of her work 
 stood in the way of her aim ; her insistence on the limitations 
 which the past lays in the path of advancement is stronger in 
 her than the desire to press on to whatever improvement may 
 be within reach. And yet, in spite of "tiresome double and 
 treble distillations of phraseology, in spite of fatiguing morali- 
 ties, gravities and ponderosities," she was one of the most 
 heroic women in history. Morley wishes more of the "Olym- 
 pian serenity that makes action natural and repose refreshing," 
 but is impressed with the edification of her life and her fel- 
 
 T5 Idem, pp. 335-336. 
 
 T6 Miscellanies, vol. 3, p. 126. 
 
 50 
 
lowship with lofty thoughts. She was more austere than Mill, 
 more unflinching, and ''of ruder intellectual constancy." Such 
 qualities made her a great moral force. 
 
 Akin to the sympathy which Morley evinces for George 
 Eliot is his appreciation of the work of Harriet Martineau. 
 The qualities praised are those which we should expect Mor- 
 ley to praise — strong moral courage, steadfast devotion to the 
 uplift of mankind, and a positivistic approach to the study of 
 sociolog}\ 
 
 Likewise Morley, the rationaUst, criticizes Mark Pattison. 
 The criticism is harsh, but Pattison was of a type to arouse 
 Morley to severe criticism. Anyone who has read the Me- 
 moirs of Pattison has been impressed by the bottomless des- 
 pair of the author. How strange it is, for example, to read 
 of one who had abundant opportunities for cultivating the 
 society of the learned and the famous: "I have seen no one, 
 known none of the celebrities of my own time intimately or 
 at all, and have only an inaccurate memory for what I hear." 
 As we read on, the impression deepens that here indeed is a 
 man without hope ; he laments his boorishness because he acted 
 like a rustic in the presence of his fellow students or of his 
 tutors ; he could assimilate but little of his reading, "there was 
 no mind there." It is not a matter of surprise therefore that 
 Morley is severe in his criticism. No one, he writes, can real- 
 ize the extent of Pattison's impotence who has not sat on a 
 committee with him ; there was a weakness of the will, a lack 
 of self-confidence, and a pessimism that appalled his fellow 
 members. Morley quotes Pattison's remark to Morison : "Yes, 
 let us take our worst opinions of ourselves in our most de- 
 pressed mood. Extract the cube root of that, and you will be 
 getting near the common opinion of our merits." He lacked 
 faith in human progress ; while admitting the advances in 
 science and its industrial applications, he doubted whether "our 
 social and moral advance toward happiness and virtue" was 
 cognizable. 
 
 I have been brief in my discussion of these essays ; my pur- 
 pose has been solely to show that Morley has criticized Eliot, 
 Martineau, and Pattison from the point of view of rational- 
 ism. More material could be given, but the essays are not 
 among the best that Morley has written ; and even a brief 
 analysis suffices to show his position. 
 
 51 
 
Let us turn from these essays to Morley's criticism of 
 Macaulay. The former show Morley as a meditator on hu- 
 man destinies ; the latter reveals him as a critic of style. Mor- 
 ley praises Macaulay's ability to write on a wide range of sub- 
 jects. "His essays are as good as a library; they make an 
 incomparable manual and vademecum for a busy uneducated 
 man." Macaulay's appeal to Morley lies in his treatment of 
 the "commonplace," that is, of the "fine truisms that cluster 
 around love of freedom and love of native land."" "His un- 
 analytical turn of mind kept him free of any temptation to 
 think of love of country as a prejudice, or a passion for free- 
 dom as an illusion." The international idea of such teachers 
 as Cobden would have found point blank opposition and denial 
 from him. He was in "exact accord with the common average 
 sentiment of his day on every subject on which he spoke";, 
 every writer who would be enrolled in the temple of contempo- 
 rary fame must, like Macaulay, pay worship to popular idols. 
 He had no desire to inculcate new beliefs in the minds of his 
 contemporaries, nor did he introduce any new thought. We 
 are always sure that if Macaulay had been an Athenian citi- 
 zen he would have sided against Socrates at the time of his 
 impeachment. His ascendancy is due to literary pomp, and 
 not to fecundity of spirit. "No one has ever surpassed him in 
 the art of combining resolute and ostentatious common sense 
 of a slightly coarse sort in choosing his point of view, with 
 so considerable an appearance of dignity and elevation in set- 
 ting it forth and impressing it upon others." He did not have 
 even the rudimentary germ of meditation. Man cannot live 
 by analysis alone, Morley admits, but he maintains that Mac- 
 aulay has lost many opportunities for recording images and 
 suggestions which light up a range of distant thoughts and 
 sympathies in the reader. 
 
 From these quotations we may more easily follow the main 
 thought of the essay : that the style of an author is the result of 
 his method of thinking. Let us not imagine, Morley states, 
 that it is a matter of little importance whether Macaulay af- 
 fects a style coupe or a style soutenu. The critic of style is 
 not the "dancing master declaiming on the deep ineffable 
 things that lie in a minuet. He is not the virtuoso of supines 
 
 ■^^ See Miscellanies, vol. i, pp. 268 ff. for definition of "common- 
 place" in Shakespeare. 
 
 52 
 
and gerundives."^* The critic's task is to understand how 
 Macaulay set his stamp not only on the mechanisms of writ- 
 ing, but on its organology — the relation of style to ideas and 
 feeling. 
 
 If, Morley continues, our public writers owe most of their 
 virtues to Mill, then they owe most of their vices to Mac- 
 aulay; if the one taught them to reason, to be patient and 
 tolerant, the other encouraged "oracular arrogance, and a 
 rather too thrasonical complacency." Macaulay "trained a 
 taste for superficial particularities, trivial circumstantialities 
 of local colour, and all the paraphernalia of the pseudo-pic- 
 turesque."" The trenchancy of statement which is one of 
 Macaulay 's characteristics is effective for a large public; but 
 to those "who reflect how delicate is the poise of truth," the 
 writer who never lapses into the contingent, who "marches 
 through the intricacies of things in a blaze of certainty," is sure 
 to display a doubtful and displeasing style. I must quote a 
 few lines of a valuable passage: "It is a great test of style 
 to watch how an author disposes of the qualifications, limita- 
 tions, and exceptions that clog the wings of his main proposi- 
 tion. The grave and conscientious men of the seventeenth 
 century insisted on packing them all honestly along with the 
 main proposition itself, within the bounds of a single period. 
 Burke arranges them in tolerably close order in the paragraph. 
 Dr. Newman, that winning writer, disperses them lightly over 
 his page. Of Macaulay it is hardly unfair to say that he 
 despatches all qualifications into outer space before he begins 
 to write, or if he magnanimously admits one or two here and 
 there, it is only to bring them the more imposingly to the same 
 murderous end."**' 
 
 I present, without comment, further remarks by Morley. It 
 is because Macaulay's interests and intuitions lack profundity 
 that the expression of them is characterized by volubility rather 
 than by volume. Likewise with his expressions that are in- 
 tended to be humorous — they have no deep root in moral 
 nature, and are as a result merely literary forms. The very 
 want of thought which gives his writings directness, clearness, 
 and positiveness, is responsible for his over-weeningness and 
 
 ^8 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 261. 
 
 '^^ Idem, p. 257. 
 
 80 Miscellanies, vol. i, pp. 277-278. 
 
 53 
 
self-confident will. His music is that of a silver trumpet; his 
 sentences are not a clinging vestment to his thought, but a suit 
 of armor. He has replenished the lamp of knowledge with 
 naphtha instead of with fine oil. His writing is a sort of 
 "glorified newspaper reporting." There is an excess of color. 
 He is frequently vulgar, discordant to the fastidious ear, and 
 at enmity with the whole spirit of truth. 
 
 In the essay on Macaulay Morley has expounded with ele- 
 gance and skill the principle that style is dependent on modes 
 of thought. There can be no better approach to the treatment 
 of his own literary style. Though he is not one of the most 
 winning critics, yet all his writings excite the interest that we 
 feel in reading what has evidently been inspired by the care- 
 fully matured convictions of an honest man. If his style often 
 lacks charm, it has solid worth and is the genuine expression 
 of his philosophy. 
 
 To judge his style fairly we should keep in mind several 
 points. The first is, that in spite of the influence of his school, 
 Morley has ratiocinated himself into mysticism. He is not 
 the ethereal mystic, lost in contemplation of themes remote 
 from terra firma; but (if I may) the mystic of rationalism 
 who has evolved by a study of history a belief in unseen forces, 
 in progress, and a faith in mankind. On these he meditates. 
 That attitude explains many passages which, because of their 
 other-worldliness and their indications of a faith, seem inci- 
 dental to the general tone of his work. The decided meta- 
 physical bias in Morley has inspired much of what is tender 
 in tone, cadenced in measure, and lofty in thought of his writ- 
 ing. In this superior style there are no long continuous pas- 
 sages in his work ; the predominance of positivism is not con- 
 ducive to sustained eloquence. But we are grateful for his 
 occasional leavening of the thought, and appreciate the form 
 in which he has given expression to his faith. ^^ 
 
 We should also remember the particular type of feeling 
 which he displays. Emotional pyrotechnics are quite lacking 
 in his work. There is, however, an intellectual ardor which 
 possesses him, and which, being based on conviction, is not 
 subject to the passing whim nor readily evanescent. I have 
 
 *i Miscellanies, vol. 3, pp. 35-36; 37-38; Voltaire, pp. 274-275, 279- 
 280; Rousseau, vol. 2, pp. 232-233, 278. 
 
 54 
 
referred to his belief that spontaneity is consistent with form 
 and order. Such a statement could come only from one who 
 had so assimilated the methods of science that they had be- 
 come to him an habitual guide and stimulus, instead of an in- 
 hibition. If depth of feeling rather than exuberance may be 
 considered as the true cause of spontaneity, then Morley's style 
 may not infrequently be accredited with this virtue. 
 
 Furthermore, let us not forget his unwillingness to accept 
 form as of first importance. Morley has stated that style was 
 less dear to him than it was to Plutarch,^^ and in his last pub- 
 lished work he writes : "As to literary form I took too little 
 thought, only seeking Correctness. And that after all is its 
 prime essential. In the verbal curiosity contemned by Milton 
 as toilsome vanity I had little interest. I was inclined respect- 
 fully to go with Montaigne, who laughed at fools who will go 
 quarter of a league to run after a fine word."*^ We shall be 
 very far from the truth, however, if we assume that this re- 
 spectful accompaniment has given to Morley's style the same 
 conversational facility for which Emerson has praised Mon- 
 taigne. A sceptic may suitably adopt the style of easy dis- 
 course, but an agnostic is forced, even as his thinking is more 
 rigid, to express himself formally. We are pleased with Mon- 
 taigne when he writes that his guide in the arrangement of his 
 material is chance, that he piles up his thoughts as they come 
 to him, and that, although he would like a more complete 
 knowledge of things, he is unwilling to pay the price. But by 
 the nature of his philosophic position, Morley could not as- 
 sume such an attitude. He is openly opposing accepted 
 thought; and opposition cannot be proffered in a self-depre- 
 ciatory manner, nor in tones suitable to the easy chair. Mor- 
 ley never relaxes his hold on the reader, because he himself 
 has been untiring in his insistence on principles which to him 
 are fundamental. The reader may be rebellious, he may be 
 antagonistic and reject utterly premises as well as conclusions, 
 but he must defend his position by counter arguments and 
 not offer mere antipathies. 
 
 Morley's style, then, shows clearly the influence of his phi- 
 losophy. That influence is not to be noted in any mechanical 
 arrangement of sentences so much as in general tone. He has 
 
 82 Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 315. 
 
 83 Recollections, vol. i, p. 93. 
 
 55 
 
not deemed it necessary to follow Comte's curious example of 
 restricting his sentences to "two lines of his manuscript or 
 five of print," or "every paragraph to seven sentences."^* He 
 will not yield to the lure of form, even though the particular 
 methods of Comte lead to more ordered thinking and increase 
 clarity of expression. On the contrary, whatever precision, 
 clarity, and strength Morley's style has, result inevitably from 
 his method of thought. As he thinks, so he writes. 
 
 I have insisted throughout these pages that matters of de- 
 tail are of little importance to Morley compared with matters 
 of thought. This is of course a sound principle, both of 
 thought and of style. It has a special application, however, in 
 Morley's case, which may or may not have been favorable to 
 his literary success, but has at least tended to limit the size of 
 his audience. He has always kept to the fore the principles 
 which his characters championed, and the relation of those 
 principles to the general current of thought ; he has therefore 
 used but scantily the common details of daily life. Byron as 
 a liberalizer of thought is so important that Byron as the 
 owner of Newstead Abbey is not considered; the essay on 
 Carlyle relegates dates to the secondary position of a foot- 
 note ; and when, as in the essays on Wordsworth and Emer- 
 son, the author reverts to the ordinary type of biography, we 
 feel that the true Morley note is missing. He is unwilling 
 to utilize material that would reveal his characters as they 
 were among men ; he tells of their opinions and of their 
 place in the history of thought ; but how they walked on earth 
 is of little interest. When he does describe, we feel confident, 
 however, that he has not departed from established fact. When 
 he tells us of the famished Condorcet's demand for a dozen 
 eggs in an omelette, we are certain that Morley has not been 
 mistaken in the number ; we give credence to his statement 
 that Robespierre on trial wore a "coat of violet-blue silk" and 
 "white nankeens." These facts the reader accepts because he 
 knows that Morley is cautious. And Morley has methodically 
 curbed the imagination ; there is no attempt to reconstruct 
 scenes in the favorite manner of Macaulay.*^ 
 
 8* Mentioned by Morley, Miscellanies, vol. i, pp. 261-262. See Ste- 
 phen, English Utilitarians, vol. i, pp. 137 ff. for an interesting account 
 of Home Tooke's study of philology as an aid to his nominalism. 
 
 *5 See Miscellanies, vol. i, p. 122: "There is a legend that in the 
 
 56 
 
Just as Morley has not been concerned with the personal 
 details of his characters, so, too, he has been restrained in re- 
 vealing himself. We desire to see our teachers, but he has not 
 heeded the desire, and has been particularly retiring. Some- 
 thing we see of him in the essay "A Few Words on French 
 Models," and something less in the essays on Greg and Patti- 
 son ; the Recollections, also, give a little personal information. 
 There are occasional references to Mill, "my master," and to 
 those who influenced Morley and his college mates at Lincoln. 
 But in general what we know of his personality has been com- 
 prehended by the intellect; he is a teacher whom we neither 
 see nor touch. 
 
 Morley has mentioned that Macaulay failed to make use of 
 the many opportunities which a writer has to pause for re- 
 flection on the destiny of mankind, on the value of life and of 
 individual effort. His own essays illustrate the evil attendant 
 on too much zeal in introducing such moral asides. Narrative 
 is too frequently interrupted by reflections. We learn, for ex- 
 ample, in a discussion of the marital relations of the Crom- 
 well family, that "Marriage and time hide strange surprises" f^ 
 an account of a battle is concluded with "Where the purpose 
 is lofty and unselfish, this is indeed moral greatness."^'' In an 
 interesting passage on Rousseau's relations to the city of Gen- 
 eva we are treated to an analysis of the quality of reverence.^* 
 An account of the life of Comte ends with a reflection on the 
 impatience which shortness of life breeds in men to hurry on 
 projects for which the time is not ripe.^^ The many inter- 
 spersed qualifications and asides indicate definitely Morley's 
 habit of thought. His partiality to aphorisms shows his fel- 
 lowship with rationalists. My personal objection to the gra- 
 tuitous aphoristic statement, so far as there is an objection, 
 is that it takes the mind of the reader from the immediate 
 subject in hand, and leads his thought to more abstruse mat- 
 evening Robespierre walked in the Champs filysees with his betrothed, 
 accompanied as usual by his faithful dog, Brount. They admired the 
 purple of the sunset, and talked of a glorious tomorrow. But this is 
 apocryphal. The evening was passed in no lover's saunterings, but 
 amid the storm and uproar of the Club." 
 
 8^ Cromwell, pp. 13-14. 
 
 8^ Idem, p. 305. 
 
 88 Rousseau, vol. i, pp. 195-197. 
 
 *9 Miscellanies, vol. 3, pp. 359-360. 
 
 57 
 
ters. Morley's use of aphorisms bears out this comment. 
 Nevertheless, while not graceful, they are forceful; and what 
 they lose in grace is, to a rationalist, compensated by the gain 
 in precision. They express concisely his favorite thoughts; 
 they are the texts of his message. 
 
 Perhaps it is to the dogmatic attitude of Morley that we are 
 to trace the presence of another defect, the excessive use of 
 general statements. We read that "Nobody has ever taken 
 the responsibilities of literature more ardently in earnest than 
 George Eliot" ;^'' that "nobody had in him less of the Stoic 
 than Machiavelli" f^ that "nobody was ever more dilligent in 
 putting" his material to use than Voltaire f'^ that "the English 
 have never been less insular in thought and interest than they 
 were in the seventeenth century. "^^ The occurrence of "every- 
 body knows" is also obnoxious, and of no more meaning than 
 Macaulay's phrase about the precocious schoolboy. 
 
 So serious in tone and, in general, didactic is Morley's writ- 
 ing, that the reader is occasionally surprised by the use of an 
 element not related to this soberer style, the element, namely, 
 of wit, by the introduction of which, well-chosen and timely, 
 Morley knows how to illumine a passage. His wit is not 
 boisterous, and except in rare cases, not playful. It is not in- 
 cisive at the expense of mankind ; Morley is not the Laughing 
 Abderite. In this respect he is at his best in the essays on 
 Byron, Macaulay, and Carlyle.®* 
 
 A brief word in conclusion. By virtue of the range of his 
 sympathies and his avoidance of extremes, Morley has at- 
 tained to the position of a classicist ; there is much of the re- 
 spose of the golden mean in his writing. Thus, for example, 
 while insisting on mental discipline, he has not become drily 
 dialectic, and has recognized that systematic thinking alone is 
 not sufficient. The affections are essential to him. He can 
 plead for individual expansion, and yet realize the dangers of 
 throwing off all shackles. Still further, he has interested him- 
 
 *o Miscellanies, vol. 3, p. no. 
 
 *i Miscellanies, vol. 4, p. 12. 
 
 92 Voltaire, p. 303. 
 
 83 Cromwell, p. 42. 
 
 9* See, also, Miscellanies, vol. I, pp. 7-8; also, "A Few Words on 
 French Models," Studies, pp. 156 ff; Justin McCarthy (Outlook, vol. 
 72, pp. 295 fif) testifies to Morley's keen sense of humor. 
 
 58 
 
self not only in positivistic writers but in the poets of the Ro- 
 mantic Movement as well. The "equal ordering of reason and 
 affections" with one another has rid his writing of undue 
 systematization, moderated his emotional display, and human- 
 ized his thinking. 
 
 59 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 (i) Editions of Lord Morley's works used: 
 Burke, Edmond, A Historical Study — London, Macmillan and 
 
 Co., 1867. 
 Cobden, Richard, The Life of — Boston, Roberts Brothers, 1881. 
 Cromwell, Oliver — New York, The Century Company, 1902. 
 Diderot and the Encyclopaedists, 2 vols. — London, Macmillan 
 
 and Co., 1886. 
 Gladstone, William Ewart, The Life of, 3 vols. — New York, 
 
 Macmillan and Co., 1903. 
 
 Miscellanies, Critical, vol. i — London, Macmillan and Co., 1893. 
 
 " 2— " " " " 1886 
 
 " 3— " " " " 1886 
 
 " 4— " " " " 1908 
 
 On Compromise " " " " 1888 
 
 Politics and History, Notes on — London, Macmillan and Co., 
 
 1914. 
 Rousseau — 2 vols. — London, Chapman and Hall, 1873. 
 Recollections — 2 vols. — New York, Macmillan and Co., 191 7. 
 Studies in Literature — London, " " " 1920. 
 
 Voltaire " " " " 1896. 
 
 Walpole " " " " 1890. 
 
 (2) Works, not by Lord Morley, referred to in thesis: 
 Brunetiere, Ferdinand — L'fivolution des Genres dans L'His- 
 toire de la Litterature — 2 vols., Librairie Hachette et Cie., 
 1898. 
 Mill, John Stuart — Autobiography, New York, Henry Holt 
 and Company, 1874. 
 
 . Dissertations and Discussions, 2 vols., London, 
 
 John W. Parker and Son, 1859. 
 
 Letters of — 2 vols. — London, Longmans, Green, 
 
 and Co., 1910. 
 
 On Liberty (Everyman edition). 
 
 Stephen, Leslie — The English Utilitarians, 3 vols.. New York, 
 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1900. 
 Symond, J. H. — Essays, Speculative and Suggestive, 2 vols. — 
 
 London, Chapman and Hall, 1890. 
 
 (3) Periodicals of interest: 
 Atlantic, 108 : 805 ff— Morley as an Author— G. M. Harper. 
 
 60 
 
Contemporary, 17:319 — Mr. John Morley's Essays — Robert 
 
 Buchanan 
 72 : 368 — Mr. John Morley — Norman Hap- 
 good. 
 Dial, 7 : 40 — John Morley (review of collected works, 1886) 
 
 — anon. 
 Fortnightly R., i : 43 — The Influence of Rationalism — George 
 Eliot. 
 
 2 : 469 — The Positivist Problem — Frederic 
 
 Harrison. 
 
 3 : 385 — Auguste Comte — George Lewes. 
 
 II : 653 — The Scientific Aspects of Positivism — 
 
 Th. Huxley. 
 11:406 — Mr. Huxley on M. Comte — Richard 
 
 Congreve. 
 14: 118 — The Fortnightly Review and Positiv- 
 ism — John Morley. 
 38:511 — Valedictory — John Morley. 
 70:249 — Mr. John Morley — anon, 
 London Qu. R., 122:36 — Lord Morley and the Christian 
 
 Faith — Rev. Geo. Jackson. 
 Nation, 68 : 103 — John Morley's Warnings — anon. 
 Outlook, ']2 : 295 — John Morley — Justin McCarthy. 
 
 75 : 800 — Writer and Statesman — anon. 
 Quarterly R., 168:249 — Mr. John Morley's Collected Writ- 
 ings — anon. 
 R. of R., 30:548 — Mr. Morley and Mr. Bryce in America — 
 
 anon. 
 Sat. R., 59 : 409 — A Conservative Mr. John Morley — anon. 
 
 87 : 69 — Mr. Morley Strikes — anon. 
 Sewanee R., 26:485 — Lord Morley's Recollections — Sidney 
 
 Gunn. 
 Westm. R., 154: 117 — John Morley — Thomas Bowran. 
 
 (4) Other collateral reading of interest: 
 
 Benn, A. W. — The History of English Rationalism in the 
 Nineteenth Century — 2 vols. — London, Longmans, Green, 
 and Co., 1906. 
 
 Comte, Auguste — Discourse on the Positive Spirit — trans, by 
 E. S. Beesly — London, Longmans, Green, and Co., 1903. 
 
 . The Catechism of Positive Religion — trans, by 
 
 Richard Congreve, London, Longmans, Green, and Co., 
 . 1883. 
 
 Cecil, Algernon — Six Oxford Thinkers, London, John Mur- 
 ray, 1909. 
 
 Harper, G. M. — John Morley and Other Essays — Princeton, 
 N. J., Princeton University Press, 1920. 
 
 61 
 
Lecky, W. E. H. — History of the Rise and Influence of the 
 
 Spirit of RationaHsm in Europe — 2 vols., D. Appleton and 
 
 Company, 1866. 
 More, Paul Elmer — A New England Group and Others ; Shel- 
 
 burne Essays, Eleventh Series, Boston and New York, 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin Company, 192 1, 
 Sidgwick, Henry — The Methods of Ethics, London, Macmillan 
 
 and Co., 1913. 
 
 62 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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