By-ways in Book-land: Short Essays on Literary SubjectsAdams, W. H. Davenport (William Henry Davenport)
History
By-ways in Book-land: Short Essays on Literary Subjects
Adams, W. H. Davenport (William Henry Davenport)
English literature -- History and criticism
'This England never did, nor never shall
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself...
Nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.'
There is much virtue in an 'if,' and the poet repeats the warning in
another play. In '3 Henry VI.' Hastings says:
'Why, knows not Montague that of itself
England is safe, if true within itself?'
That, again, which most troubles John of Gaunt, in the passage already
quoted, is the fact that England, which was wont to conquer others,
'Hath made a shameful conquest of itself;' while Chorus, in 'Henry V.,'
laments that France has found in England 'a nest of hollow bosoms, which
he fills with treacherous crowns,' adding,
'What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kind and natural?'
Here, then, is a lesson for our times. What Shakespeare felt to be true
in his own day is equally, nay more, true now--that England, 'set in a
silver sea,' is safe from all assaults, save those which she may suffer
at the hands of her own 'degenerate and ingrate' sons.
HEREDITY IN SONG.
It is said that the verses in a recent number of _Macmillan's Magazine_,
entitled 'In Capri,' and signed 'W. Wordsworth,' are from the pen of a
grandson of the famous author of 'The Excursion.' They are gracefully
written, in an agreeable rhythm, and with much command of felicitous
expression. If, therefore, the writer has indeed the relationship to the
great Wordsworth which rumour assigns him, the fact is interesting, and
suggests some considerations as to the transmission of the poetic
faculty from one generation to another.
One might have thought that this transmission would have been tolerably
common; that the sons at least, if not the grandsons, of a genuine poet
could scarcely fail to inherit something of their progenitor's peculiar
powers. One might even have supposed that poetry would run--as other
things have run--in families, making the 'bards' almost a _gens_, or
class, by themselves. Poetry, after all, is an affair mainly of the
temperament--of fancy and imagination, of feeling and passion; and these
are qualities which one might have imagined would be handed down, not
greatly impaired, from father to son, and so on, for at least a fairly
prolonged period.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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