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18TH CENTURY AND ROMANTICISM NEOCLASSICISM AND THE POETRY OF ALEXANDER POPE The early Enlighten ent !"1#$$ !1#%%& 1688 the Glorious Revolution (the Stuarts were finally evicted). This revolution created the conditions out of which the new literature was to spring. The Glorious Revolution eant the triu ph of the ercantile interests and of the capitalist inded of the landed aristocracy. !t eant the esta"lish ent of a li ited onarchy. #iterature fro then on was to "e definitely "ourgeois in tone and it was the wider audience of the "ourgeoisie whose taste had to "e caught. Chara'teri(ti' )*tl))+ ), the -eri)./ 0 0 0 0 The idea of a general progress of hu anity$ %elief in the power of reason (already fostered "y the Renaissance)$ #oc&e's tabula rasa idea a "asis for that "elief a possi"ility for hu an perfection$ Shafts"ury the principle of "alance or har ony "(n various ele ents in which reason played a controlling part. )oderation in everything* suspicion of whatever enthusias $ +eis , the idea of a religion of reason$ God created the world and ordained its laws* "ut after that had withdrawn fro his creation and left it to develop in accordance with these laws.

In literat*re/ 0 0 0 the su"-ect of literature, an the cultivated an of the upper class$ the function of literature, oral teaching through delight$ everything was to "e stated as plainly and directly as possi"le.

P)etry ), the -eri)./ .lready during the Restoration* poetry had "een doc&ed of its ore personal ele ents* its inti ate lin&s with nature* and had centered ainly in satire* in trivial love verse* and typical society and occasional verse* po pous odes in cele"ration of pu"lic events etc. The chief contri"ution of the /arly /nlighten ent was the rise of the poetic essay* reflective, philosophical verse and also in the popular pastorals there is a re"irth of nature. Ale1an.er P)-e "1288 ! 1#%%& The poetry of the .ugustans* which is a"ove all the poetry of state ent* stands outside the of /nglish poetry* which has ostly "een the poetry of suggestion. ain traditions

Reason, largely the state of language at that ti e. .fter the e0tre es of the etaphysical wit in the 11 th c. the reaction (Royal society) was towards a mathematical precision of statement . To attain this words were deprived of their overtones and associations$ etaphors were gained* in their "older for s at least* as a twisting of language out of its proper nor s. The i.eal was correctness* perspicuity* and elegance$ not to e0press the ine0plica"le* not to suggest ore than is actually said. 2hat was e0pected of the poet was wit the capacity for lively* une0pectedly vivid thought or e0pression. The poet should surprise (11 th c) "ut only "y the econo y and appositeness of his e0pression ( 11th c) the her)i' ')*-let 3 the ideal vehicle for that each pair of lines could "e polished short to see li&e an epigra saying or poe * which e0presses an idea in a clever or a using way. Criteria ,)r g)). 3er(e/ 0 heroic couplet$

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0 0 0 0 avoidance of long strings of onosylla"les$ #atini4ed voca"ulary$ pauses suited to the de ands of the etre$ a strong caesura after the 5 th* 6th or the 6th sylla"le a "alance "(n the two parts thus for ed and "(n the lines of the couplet providing onotony of elody$

The theory of poetic diction* attac&ed "y the Ro anticists* held the idea that the language of poetry had to "e elevated a"ove that of prose through the following eans, 0 all the eaner words of everyday life and words with too prosaic or too varied associations should "e "anned and avoided through the use of periphrasis a syste was "uild up and "eca e so fi0ed that it needed no i aginative gift to apply it (e.g. the spring a fountain* a "ird). )ost of those descriptive phrases were so well esta"lished that they devitali4ed the picture and ro""ed it of its concreteness which led to lac& of originality$ only elevated su"-ects should "e treated$ according to the "asic theory of art* its su"-ect was the general and the typical* not the specific$ i itation of nature ( Ro anticis ) the 7 irror8 v(s the la p it's a result of the periphrasis artificial language into which the thought had to "e translated. 2hat was reco ended to the poet was, first compose your thoughts in prose, and then translate them into verse (according to poetic diction)$ use of various rhetorical figures. 9ne of the is personification* also attac&ed "y the Ro anticists. (:ope's Windsor forest). The &ind of personification (esp. in the latter part of the 18 th c.) "y which every a"stract idea was converted into a sort of Ro an god or goddess. The .ugustans had paved the way for this "y the use of the inor gods of the later Ro an pantheon Flora, Fauna, Romina etc. ! elevated su"-ects de and elevated style.

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4 De')r*

N5/ :ope helped to fi0 the cli ate of poetry "y his practice. ;e have e "odied the tendencies of literature in his wor&s. 11<= > Pastorals: eclogues on the four seasons* traces of poetic diction. 1111 Essay on Lyricism (rhy ed for ), :ope had nothing new to say on the the e "ut he treated it ore concretely and said things with such directness that they see ed new. :ope reco ended his critics to loo for vigour and that was what he gave the . There is no trace of poetic diction in the poe "ecause the su"-ect did not de and any great elevation of style. Translation of ;o er :ope followed the custo of his day and adapted this author to conte porary fashions* thus changing* e0panding and cutting the original ? edition of Sha&espeare. 1111 a s all volu e of iscellaneous poe s* a ong which is !he Rape of the Loc short* oc&>heroic epic. !t is "uilt around an incident in high life. !ts intention is to reconcile the indignant young lady and to pour gentle ridicule in the whole affair "y treating it in the inflated epic style. The epigra atic couplet for (heroic couplet) perfectly suits the lightly ironical tone. . playful air is created "y the rhetorical figures (anticli a0* 4eug a). The wor& is full of ar y of sylphs and gno es. The poe ridicules the fashiona"le world of :ope's days. The effect of the poe lies in the e0@uisite ad-ust ent "(n the epic and the undane planes on which it oves. .lso in this volu e are to "e found, Windsor Forest " very typical poe of the period reflections on life at court* on peace* retire ent* prosperity etc. The stance of the spea&er is acco odated to social order. .ll that he sees* evo&es thoughts a"out social life. Stylistic figures, generali4ation and personification few details* no 7!8* it is su" ersed "y the collective 7we8 i -er()nal -)etry6

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#apho to Phaon and Eloisa to $belard show :ope fro confessions of a wo an's love. a rather une0pected side$ they are passionate

!he %run ard 11A1 satire. !t tells of the appoint ent of the poet laureate as a ruler "y her own &ingdo "y the goddess of +ullness* of his coronation* of the great vision of the past* present and future of dullness that co es as he lies sleeping in her lap adness is agnified until it "eco es grotes@ue. &mitation of 'orace is a continuation of the satirical vein. N5/ !n the B<s :ope developed a"ove all as a philosophical poet. Essay on (an " rhy ed verse. :ope is steering "(n the e0tre es and for ing a temperate system of ethics) ;is choice of verse rather than prose he thought that verse i presses itself ore strongly on the ind "ut also he found that he could e0press hi self ore convincingly in verse. :ope's philosophy is entirely typical of his age, two principles reign in hu an nature (el,0l)3e ( ore powerful) and rea()n* the controller (wea&er* "ecause it is ore a"stract to "e trusted). Reason's function is to control and channeli4e the passions "ecause if the passions are allowed to revolt they appear as vices "ut when properly "ridled* they "eco e virtues. The happiness 3 su" itting to the whole divine sche e. N5/ #oc&e's re-ection of the innate ideas in favour of the notion of &nowledge* "ased on e0ternal sensation and internal reflection* helped to deter ine the tendency in any 18 th c. writers to descri"e the o"serva"le world rather than the other* su"-ective interpretation of the wor&ings of the psyche. :ope's two ost sustained narrative satires* !he Rape of the Loc and the %run ard show his ver"al assaults on society and its shortco ings. !he Rape of the Loc critici4es the anners of the aristocracy. :ope's delight in do esticating the epic and de"anning the heroic is evident. Superficially* the poe under ines po posity "ut on another level it serves to e0pose false or inverted values. !t sees the relations "(n en and wo en reduced "y the social conventions to a "attle in which "eauty is a weapon* reputation is a defense. !he %run ard is an antiheroic oc&>epic. :ope conte plates the threat of a final triu ph of Chaos "rought a"out "y hu an ignorance. +ullness is the 7)other of .rrogance8* the source of pride* and the disorderer of a divinely tiny universe. !he Poet of his $ge " spea&ing not solely for hi self* "ut for the age and society in which he lived. ;is achieve ent lies in the perfection of what his age called 7-udg ent8 a sense of fitness so e0@uisite that it transcends all ere calculation. !n everything he wrote there is a sense of so ething shared 3 his awareness of his audience. :ope responded to different &inds of the es with re ar&a"le variousness. %oth the e0cite ent and variety in his poetry derive fro the perfect ad-ust ent of style to feelings. .ll considera"le poetry depends partly on the relationship "etween style and content. :ope's poetry is such in which the poet see s to suggest that no difficulties e0ist "ecause the ediu is so perfectly suited to the the e. N5/ :ope did not erely reflect his world* 7i itate8 it artistically or -ust co ent on it. .s he atured* he also ca e to represent it his world really 7spea&s through hi 8. :ope a&es his world conscious of itself there"y he partly recreates it. THE RISE OF THE EN7LISH NO8EL IN THE 18TH CENTURY The rise of the /nglish novel "egan so ewhere around the second half of the 11 th century* when the novel as a genre was still non>e0istent. The rise of the novel was connected with certain changes in /uropean society.

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.ccording to %a&htin* the writing of a novel presupposes a novelistic attitude towards reality > no such until the 18th century. !n the period "efore the 18th century the attitude towards reality was e-i'. The do inating genre was respectively the her)i' e-i'6 The essence of the epic vision was "ased on ythology and the ain hero was the collective image of the community that he represents . N5/ The epic hero is a fully reali4ed person and does not develop in the course of the epic* which is not the case with novels. There is a static @uality of the hero he is not an individual* "ut a sy "olic figure that stands for the values of the co unity* a ythological hero who is artificial* oversi4ed. N5/ !n the epic there is no ti e a &ind of vacuu surrounds such stories. The ri e is typically the past "ut we do not &now e0actly when. 2e cannot pro-ect our own e0periences in that fra ewor&. The past is ideali4ed. Ti e was considered a repetition, a cycle, and was viewed as non>linear. 2ith the rise of science* rationalis and the novel* ti e "eca e hi(t)ri'al6 N5/ !n the novel the focus of interest is the real individual* the average person and he is fir ly rooted in his fa iliar surroundings and their present. The novel is an epic of private life. 2e are presented with the fate of the individual in society* his struggle for self>assertion and recognition. So in the novel there is n) 9alan'e "etween individual and co unity as in the epic. N5/ .t the "ase of the novel lies in.i3i.*ali( . The rise of individualis is a prere@uisite for the rise of the novel. !t is different fro Renaissance individualis 3 man is the centre of the *niverse) This new individualis is connected with social changes in the late 11 th and the early 18th century, the rise of the "ourgeoisie the new an e erged, self>confident* self>relia"le* curious* positivistic* his "ac&ground is of no i portance (R. Crusoe). !n the late 11th century there was a tendency in literature towards familiari+ation as a result of new interest in a new entality* in i ediate reality. / phasis was placed on personal e0perience* gossip* interest in the 7now8 and 7here8. The Glorious Revolution pushed the co on people to the front line. 2riters of the late 11th century contri"uted to the rise of the novel without &nowing it. The genre they wrote in was the "iography uni aginative writing* diaries* and character s&etch. These prose narratives played an i portant role for the develop ent of the /nglish novel they focused the attention in the historical and not the epic the e$ ti e was descri"ed fro the pris of the ordinary individual. !n the early 18th century the /nglish literature was regarded as a ship satire and poetry were the high>dec&* while pa phlets and the literature of rogues (co es fro the picares@ue novel ( picaro 3 rogue( usually a servant* with no "ac&ground* a rolling>stone* he's alienated o"server of society) > the low dec&. The novel today rese "les the picares@ue novel. 9n /nglish soil* this picares@ue novel too& the for of criminal fiction. !t was not ade to teach no oral essage. The cri inal is a violator of social laws and conventions. ;e is a new* fascinating figure "ecause he re"elled against different patterns. Cri inal ,i'ti)n e0tended in various for ats, 0 0 casual pa phlet (cri inalistic -ournalis ) of B>5 pages. The title contained the whole story. There is no otive sought* the e phasis is on the act rather than on the perfor er$ longer* 8>16 pages otives* conse@uences* "iography are included* et only in the act$ the act is a testi ony to the character of the cri inal. There is a certain essage.

.nother genre was the 9i)gra-hie(. +efoe &new and read cri inal "iographies "efore he wrote his wor&s. They are ore detailed$ there is no fusion "etween realistic fiction and the oral generali4ation. The oralistic view is separate. Dor instance ;. Dielding often interferes when giving his view. !n the odern

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novel we have an indirect co ent* it is inserted in a su"tle way. !n +efoe's novels* we have a certain integration "etween purely allegorical and realistic "ut it is not enough. The :;h)re 9i)gra-hy8, e.g. (oll Flanders The e0ploration of the co ic which consists of the atte pts of the whore to rise in the world of en. The pattern spiritual ruin and aterial enrich ent. The whore is not descri"ed negatively although she strives for pleasure and power alone. There is an a"undance of social types in this type of "iography. 2hore "iographies e0plore the hidden instinct of the reader towards su"version. The life of the average reader is a routine E the need to escape fro reality and routine. Readers often identify the selves with the selves and get so e satisfaction. 5))+( a9)*t -irate(/ the pirate (3cri inal) is the violator at sea. ;e has power and is an e "odi ent of freedo . ;e is full of sensation. Chea- tra3el literat*re/ central sy "olic figure the 18 th century traveler. ;e is a etaphor of odern possi"ilities* he contains the ethos of con@uest. Stories were told that never happened. Robinson ,rusoe and Gulliver are two opposites. Gulliver is a caricature of the traveler* the aristocracy and the prag atic an* while R.C. is no irony or parody. ;e is genuine in search of con@uest and change. Swift "elongs to the part* a conservative. ;e does not "elieve that a Crusoe can do all those things. N5/ The older eaning of travel is the etaphor of the soul's -ourney to God. !n conventional literature* travel is an allegory of life. !n the 18 th century literature* the travel pattern is always sy "olic. %ut the sy "olis in pirate stories is not conventional at all. The pirate's wonderings at sea are not necessarily related to the -ourney to God. :irate's sy "olis is (e'*lar the pirate defies static e0istence of society and sy "oli4es the new set of values, "ourgeois* ur"an v(s edieval values* according to which an is a toy in God's hands. +efoe's ,aptain #ingleton co es closest to loo&s a"out pirates. ,olonel -ac.ue is ore li&ely a cri inal "iography. Stage( ), the Engli(h n)3el/ 1(t (tage/ De,)e an. S;i,t/ 0 0 0 0 no plot* -ust a succession of events* which are not casually connected$ no dialogue$ no selection a ong events and details$ the characters are F9T li&e puppets on a string.

<n. (tage/ Fiel.ing an. Ri'har.()n/ 0 0 0 in the preface of -oseph $ndrews Dielding tries to define the novel and elevate it as a genre. ;e introduces the 7co ic approach8 as opposed to the epic approach and thus i plies closeness (te poral and special) and fa iliarity. Dielding is representative of Rationalis and Richardson stic&s to the ideas of ! perialis . Richardson uses the odel of domestic drama. ;e's the father of the sentimental novel) i1e. 'a(e(/ Oli3er 7)l.( ith@ Aane

=r. (tage/ inter e.iate ), tren.( an. hy9ri.i>ati)n ), genre(? A*(ten@ the 7)thi' n)3el6

The 18th 'ent*ry n)3el(/ they constitute the early and ti ely for ative phase of the novel as a genre. !n the 18th c. there is a large variety of approaches to the pro"le of fictional story telling. Fo clear division is ade "etween fact and fiction* "(n everyday world of fact and the fictional or even fantastic real .

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The novel* as a narrative institution* is an outgrowth of the nor s of the /nlighten ent (its strict esta"lish ent of a categorical difference "(n fictional and factual). The history of the /nglish novel is the story of e ergence of a new &ind of @uite distinct fictional narrative* which defines itself "y the process of re/ection, modification and transformation of previous for s or practices in storytelling that are seen insufficiently attentive to a narrow event of what constitutes truth and reality. The novel see&s to "anish or triviali4e the older and anifestly unrealistic genres of epic and ro ance. The ordinary and the concretely e0peri ental (?everyday language) co e into the world of the novel. Reali( Reali( an. the n)3el ,)r / ! the defining characteristic* which differentiates the wor& 18 th c. novelist fro previous fiction.

N5/ The 7realis 8 of the novel involves portraying all the varieties of hu an e0perience and not erely those suited to one particular literary perspective. The novel's realis does not reside in the &ind of life it presents "ut in the way it presents it. +efoe and Richardson were the first who did not ta&e their plots fro previous literature. A(-e't( ), i -)rtan'e in the n)3el/ 0 0 0 0 individuali4ation of its characters$ detailed presentation of the characters' environ ent$ the plot the use of particular e0perience as the cause of present action (cause G effect)$ e ploy ent of uch ore inutely discri inated ti e>scale that in previous narratives. ythology* history* legend or

THE NO8EL/ 1#%$ ! 1##$ N5/ The great literary achieve ent of the 18 th century was the novel the prose story of so e length and organi4ed co ple0ity* dealing with ordinary people in fa iliar surroundings. This definition serves to e0clude the -i'are(B*e n)3el* characteri4ed "y lac& of organi4ation and co ple0ity* the her)i' r) an'e* which though co ple0 enough* deals with elevated persons in unfa iliar and often a"stract surroundings* and the 9i)gra-hi'al n)3el* esp. of +efoe* "ecause of it's insufficient organi4ation. Rea()n( ,)r the a--earan'e ), thi( -arti'*lar genre at that -arti'*lar ti e/ 0 0 0 0 increase of the reading pu"lic (largely iddle class) ? hostility towards the lies of fiction$ increasing leisure a ong the wo en fol&$ the whole cli ate of rationalis and co on sense$ spread of e oirs and "iographies.

The last two ade the e0traordinary situations* the coincidences and conventional conflicts of the heroic ro ances appear artificial and silly. Richardson* for instance* did ta&e love and its conflicts as his actual the e* "ut this was not the heroic love of the heroic ro ances. !t too& writers a long ti e to reali4e that ere variety of incident (as in the picares@ue novel)* if it does not centre on so e do inant the e* "eco es weariso e and leaves little i pression "ehind Richardson's re ar&a"le e0a ple of a single dra atic conflict shaping the whole.

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!n the opening chapters of Robinson ,rusoe +efoe points to one of the difficulties in the path or realis that the iddle path of life was also the less eventful. .fter +efoe's auto"iographical novels* what re ained to "e descri"ed was that no great variety of events was needed to lend interest even to long stretches of narrative$ that in fact psychological and e otional ela"oration* if treated ore convincingly could sustain the interest even "etter than heroic ro ances$ and that the conflicts and tensions even of the iddle wal& of life could provide and ad ira"le "asis to wor& on. 9nce these discoveries were ade the path of develop ent was free and the odern novel esta"lished itself. The ,)r S*9Ce't ), the n)3el/ the for that a&es least de and on its readers and is ost easily assi ilated.

atter ! the novel treats the particular rather than the universal giving the very te0ture of life.

N5/ Hnrestricted in its length* the novel was a"le to ta&e in as uch of the co ple0ities of odern life as its the e de anded and encouraged a fuller treat ent of the setting the ain figures ca e to "e ore and ore fir ly anchored in a wide social conte0t, seen first as e "ers of a fa ily* then of a wider social structure* till finally it "eca e possi"le to envisage the as products of their environ ent* which is not the case with heroic ro ances and picares@ue novels. !n Richardson and Dielding's novels hu an personal relationships are in +efoe's wor&s. Phil)()-hy ), the 18th 'ent*ry an. it( i -a't )n literat*re/ Ro antic poetry is "ound with philosophy "ecause it is a synthetic product of thought* e otions and feelings. Rationalis , dualis divides the world into two su"stances e0ternal reality v(s internal reality 3 nature v(s ind. %oth are a"solutely autono ous. 0 0 0 0 e0ternal reality considered inferior* the ind i poses it's ideas on it. The individual should @uestion all &nowledge thin&ing is a superior activity* no place for intuition. The aesthetics of Few classicis split of for and content preoccupation with for poetic diction the identity of the poet is lost Rationalis ini i4es the role of e0perience and i ediate perception everything ! ready in the ind. uch ore thoroughly e0plored than

A6 L)'+e/ his philosophy is / piricis * Sensualis he directs the attention to senses* e0perience and perceptions. The in. is seen as tabula rasa, the e0ternal reality i poses ideas on the ind through the senses (v(s Rationalis where this is vice versa). Thus the role of individual e0perience was stressed further. !nfluence on literature in the novel of the 18th c. and early 1=c. influ0 of individual e0perience in the novel. !n the 18th c. novel ain the e "eca e the relationship "(n an and environ ent. #oc&e classified properties into, pri ary ass* nu "er* distance$ secondary colour* sound (in Robinson ,rusoe there is no ention of colours* or sound* only pri ary properties are displayed) The agnostic ele ent that the world is un&nowa"le co es fro %er&ley's philosophy agn)(ti'i( the world in our senses is the only one. The influence of %er&ley's s&epticis on Ro antic poetry hit Shelly ,arpe %iem "sei+e the day) 0 0

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Da3i. H* e 0 neither science* nor religion are a"le of o"-ective truth. There is no o"-ective &nowledge. This s&epticis "rings i agination into the picture and under ines the echanistic view of nature. ;is philosophy was a ta&e>off point for Iant. Dant ! the echanis of ac@uiring &nowledge (episte ology ain concern of ost philosophers). ;e tries to unite Rationalis and / piricis . ;e sees &nowledge as 3 a unified process of perception* intuition* i agination and understanding (reason) reason 3 Ro antic i agination. ;e distinguishes "(n a--earan'e (the pheno enal world) and reality ! the thing itself. Rea()n 0 the superior a"ility to guess a"out the e0istence of reality. 2ordsworth and Coleridge inde"ted to Iant. Ieats and Shelley to Iant and #oc&e. THE RISE OF THE NO8EL/ Daniel De,)e "122$01#=1& Such a "itious de"ates on society and hu an nature ran parallel with the e0plorations of a literary for finding new popularity with a large audience* the novel. +efoe* for e0a ple* fascinated "y any intellectual wrangling* was always willing (a id a career of unwearying activity) to pu"lish his own views on the atter currently in @uestion* "e it econo ic* etaphysical* educational* or legal. ;is lasting distinction* though earned in other fields of writing than the disputative* is constantly underpinned "y the generous range of his curiosity. 9nly so eone of his catholic interests could have sustained* for instance* the super" !our !hro0 the Whole &sland of 1reat 2ritain (11A5>A1)* a vivid* county>"y>county review and cele"ration of the state of the nation. ;e "rought the sa e diversity of enthusias s into play in writing his novels. The first of these* Robinson ,rusoe (111=)* an i ediate success at ho e and on the Continent* is a uni@ue fictional "lending of the traditions of :uritan spiritual auto"iography with an insistent scrutiny of the nature of an as social creature and an e0traordinary a"ility to invent a sustaining odern yth. $ -ournal of the Plague 3ear (11AA) displays enticing powers of self>pro-ection into a situation of which +efoe can only have had e0perience through the narrations of others* and "oth (oll Flanders (11AA) and Ro4ana (11A5) lure the reader into pu44ling relationships with narrators the degree of whose own self>awareness is repeatedly and provocatively placed in dou"t. !he shortest Way with %issenters is a satire* advancing an i possi"le re edy in order to "ring out the ills of the situation. !he !rue Relation of the $pparition of one (rs) 5eal " a factual account of a supposedly shortly visitation$ the ghost co onplace and lac&ing in any &ind of supernatural aura. Robinson ,rusoe " although a wor& of the i agination it was pu"lished as the true account of a an's life written "y hi self. !t is only the first part* not the se@uels* that really captures the reader's i agination. !t is a sort of epic of an's cultural achieve ents$ a &ind of ode to the idea of self>help and progress* of all that is "ut in the "ourgeois ideals of the ti e "ut this idea is never stated in so any words* co plete si plicity with which it is given* a"sence of self>consciousness the idea wor&s all the ore strongly. Ro"inson represents the ercantile spirit of the "ourgeoisie of that ti e. The novel is the first of a series of fa&ed auto"iographies followed "y ,aptain #ingleton and -ournal of the Plague 3ear) (oll Flanders, Ro4ana, and ,olonel -ac.ues come nearest to the odern novel in su"-ect* if not in for . They not only treat ordinary people "ut also place the in fa iliar surroundings. Those two "elong to the picares@ue tradition (loose* episodic structure* the hero is free of all fa ily ties). N5/ The purpose of the picares@ue novel, to ta&e the hero on a sort of spiritual -ourney through different places* classes and social strata* thus unfolding a satirical picture of society. The hero assu es the role of a co entator and catalyst* not acting* through his own personality. Hnli&e this ethod* +efoe's ethod is ore strictly "iographical$ his changes of ilieu are uch slighter and if there is such a change* it is used to e0hi"it the hero fro another angle than to "roaden the picture of society. There is an atte pt to organi4e the stage of the story appear once ore. aterial into ore co plicated patterns when people fro an earlier

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+efoe's treat ent of inner life of his characters, this inner life is given largely in the for reflections "ut often +efoe shows considera"le su"tlety and psychological insight. of orali4ing

e.g. Ro0ana (she has no heart at all) and )oll (though she sin&s lower in the social scale she has a certain funda ental honesty and &indliness), "oth are a oral. 0 a clear picture of the #ondon underworld is given "ut without any sense of social protest. +efoe shows no sy pathy. ;is purpose in descri"ing that life is partly oralistic is to show the ugliness of vice and that it does not pay.

+efoe is a"sor"ed with concrete detail of every &ind. Robinson Crusoe: In.i3i.*ali( 0 0 an. the N)3el

R. Crusoe illustration of homo economicus6 +efoe's characters either have no fa ily ()oll* Jac@ue* Capt. Singleton) or leave it at an early age never to return (Ro0ana* R. Crusoe).

Ro"inson C. leaves his fa ily for the classical reason of homo economicus to "etter his econo ic condition. #eaving ho e* i proving in the lot a vital feature of the individualistic pattern of life. Crusoe is not "ound "y senti ental ties neither to his fa ily* not to his country. The privacy of and the econo ic advantage has tended to di inish the i portance of personal and group relationships. N5/ Robinson ,rusoe is the first novel in the sense that it is the first fictional narrative in which an ordinary person's daily activities are the centre of continuous literary attention. The :uritan conception of dignity and la"our the individual daily life is of sufficient i portance to "e the proper su"-ect of literature. N5/ Robinson ,rusoe e0plores that aspect of the novel's treat ent of e0perience* which rivals the confessional auto"iography and outdoes other literary for s in "ringing us close to the inward oral "eing of the individual. !t achieves this closeness to the inner life "y using as for al "asis the auto"iographical e oir (1st person narrative). The ost significant aspect of Crusoe's spiritual life is his tendency to rigour oral and religious self> e0a ination. The :uritans tended to see every ite in his personal e0perience as potentially rich in oral and spiritual eaning as does Crusoe. N5/ +efoe's characters never thin& of glory or honour* they have their "eing in the oral plane of day>to> day living. Ro"inson Crusoe is +efoe's ost heroic character there is nothing unusual a"out his personality or the way he faces his strange e0periences. The wor&s of +efoe are the supre e illustration in the novel of the connection "etween the de ocratic individualis of :uritanis and the o"-ective representation of the world of everyday reality and all those who inha"it it. The relative i portance of religion in +efoe's novels suggests the profound seculari4ation of his outloo&* the ost i portant cause for it "eing econo ic and social progress. +efoe's i portance in the history of the novel is directly connected with the way his narrative structure e "odied the struggle "etween :uritanis and the tendency to seculari4ation* which was rooted in aterial progress. N5/ The contri"ution of :uritanis to the rise of the novel, it was through it that +efoe "rought into the novel a treatment of the individual psychological concerns a tre endous advance.

1<
N5/ the island offers the fullest opportunity for Ro"inson to reali4e a"solute econo ic* social and intellectual freedo tendencies of odern civili4ation. N5/ +efoe disregards the fact of the actual psychological effects of solitude, Ro"inson turns his forsa&en estate into a triu ph. Through hi +efoe shows that isolation can "e ade the arduous prelude to the fuller reali4ation of every individual's potentialis . Robinson ,rusoe presents the o entary i age of the ulti ate conse@uences of a"solute individualis . Robinson ,rusoe is perhaps not a novel in the usual sense* "ecause it deals so little with personal relationships. %ut the tradition of the novel should "egin with a wor& that annihilated the relationship of the traditional social order and then drew attitude to the opportunity and need of "uilding up a networ& of personal relationships on a new and conscious pattern. The ter s of the pro"le of the novel and of odern thought were esta"lished when the old order of oral and social relationships was shipwrec&ed* with Robinson ,rusoe, "y the rising tide of individualis . Robinson ,rusoe is not -ust a travel story* "ut also* in intention at least* a sincere atte pt to use fiction to the purposes of religion and orality. Crusoe's story de onstrates how God's :rovidence saves an outcast who has sinned against the divine will* "y leaving his fa ily and forgetting his religious training (out of a 7secret burning hest of ambition for great things8) Ro"inson is a successful sinner. +efoe tends to identify hi self with his protagonists ost fully with R. Crusoe his own life* too* had "een one of solitary and heroic achieve ent against great odds. Robinson ,rusoe is one of the great yths of odern civili4ation. The story cele"rates 2estern civili4ation's aterial triu ph and the strength of its rational will to con@uer the environ ent. The novel is too little concerned with personal relationships and has too restricted an e otional scope. +ifferent interpretations of Robinson ,rusoe as, 0 0 0 an allegory of +efoe's own life$ illustration of homo economicus and the rise of econo ic individualis $ adventure story, suspense* individual resourcefulness* threatening disasters* eventual triu ph.

N5/ Ro"inson is not initially driven to leave /ngland "y econo ic i peratives (!an 2alt) "ut "y a reali4ation of a deep restlessness of sprit. !n "rea&ing his father's will Crusoe co its an act of original sin the first step towards loveliness "ut also towards self>reali4ation. +efoe's God rewards the challenger* not the stay>at>ho e. Ro"inson recreates on the island the social world which he had re-ected as insufficient (tools* clothes* even oney). 2hen Driday appears the start of Crusoe's patriarchal colony and the reali4ation of a drea of e pire. 2hen Driday's father and a Spanish sailor are rescued fro the canni"als* Ro"inson "eco es responsi"le for a society which unites a"solute power with a"solute freedo of conscience and religion as opposed to +efoe's own society. There are two se@uels to Robinson ,rusoe, Farther $dventures of Robinson ,rusoe and #erious Reflections. De,)e a( n)3eli(t/ Moll Flanders (oll Flanders " a characteristic product of econo ic and social rewards. odern individual she owes it to herself to achieve the highest

N5/ ;er cri es (li&e Ro"inson's travels) are rooted in the dyna ics of econo ic individualis )oll is essentially different fro the protagonists of the picares@ue novel. +efoe presents his whores* pirates* and

11
highway en etc. as ordinary people who are nor al products of their environ ent* victi s of circu stances. There is co plete sy pathy and identification. The essence of +efoe's fictional world is that its pain and its pleasure are as solid as those of the real world. .cceptance of the ai s of econo ic individualis a new attitude to society and its laws$ the individual's orientation to life is deter ined not "y his acceptance of the positive standards of the co unity* "ut "y his own personal ai s. !n +efoe's writing there are inconsistencies in atter of detail* lac& of a coherent initial plan. +efoe's voca"ulary is that of the 7artisan and country an8. The si ple and positive @ualities of +efoe's prose e "ody the new values of the scientific and rational outloo& of late 11th century. +efoe's prose is very close to 7vulgar dialect8. Than&s to his early years as a -ournalist is the verisi ilitude of his novels and his reada"ility. N5/ +efoe's novels land ar&s in the history of fiction "ecause they are the first considera"le narratives to e "ody all the ele ents of for al realis (particular characters* particular e0perience* particular ti e and place G personal use of language). The degree of continuity "ased on the relationships "etween the heroine* her other* half>"rother* hus"and and child* gives (oll Flanders a degree of structural coherence si ilar to that in Ro4ana. !n neither of the novels* however* does +efoe show any clear intention of "inding up his plot with any sense of co pleteness or finality inconclusive endings) The plot of (oll Flanders is closer to authentic "iography that to se i> fictional rogue "iography. (oll Flanders is a novel of character* "ut +efoe odes not so uch portray her character as assu es its reality in every action. )oll shares with ost of +efoe's characters any of characteristic traits that are usually regarded as iddle class, o"sessed with gentility and &eeping up appearances* she is in her heart a renter* interested in oney* her ost positive @ualities restless* a oral* strenuous individualis (3 Ro"inson Crusoe). .nother thing co on in +efoe's novels is the tran(iti)n ,r) (enti ent t) a'ti)nEEE

N5/ The novel is considered esta"lished (it was Richardson who too& those further steps) only when, 0 0 0 realistic narrative is organi4ed into a plot$ focus on character and personal relationships as essential ele ents on the total structure (not as ele ents for furthering the verisi ilitude of the action)$ the a"ove related to a controlling oral intuition and the e. erely

(oll Flanders (v(s R),)) is richer in range of feeling$ 0 0 0 0 0 full of +efoe's "est written episodes +efoe's force is in the "rilliantly written episodes (i ediate* dra atic and precise)$ )oll is perhaps +efoe's ost successful character$ the the e is not a fight against nature "ut the individual struggle against society (so ething ore typical of the novel)$ the plot* though ra "ling and confused* is "ased on a pattern of personal relationships which is finally rounded out with a degree of unity "y the restoration of )oll to her hus"and and child$ (oll Flanders has ore conscious crafts anship than R),) and its orientation to the social world "rings it uch closer to the novel.

)oll is "orn in the Fewgate prison* 1A years a whore* arried 6 ti es (once to her "rother)* 1A years a thief* 8 years a felon in Kirginia* at last rich* honest and penitent.

1A
N5/ The dile a forced "y all of +efoe's cri inal "iographies, 7 ne'e((ity8 > fro the choice of starvation or cri e* self>preservation de ands the latter. %ut none of +efoe's cri inals retires fro cri e* though at so e point they have ceased to "e in a state of necessity. 7 Rea()n8 the survival ethic has "een transfor ed into professional s&ill* the ac@uisition of wealth and social position. N5/ +efoe never -ustified prostitution as a social necessity* "ut the novel suggests that )oll operates in a world entirely defined "y aterialis and that the functioning of a oral conscience is afforda"le only "y those who have a full sto ach and a roof over their heads. +efoe is interested in the econo ic and oral dile a of wo en in conte porary society. (oll Flanders poses several @uestions, 0 0 0 the relationship "etween character and otive$ the relationship "etween "ody and spirit$ the relationship "etween society and individual.

Ro4ana " i -r)3i(ati)n ), an e1ternal@ ()'ially ')n.iti)ne. )rality *-)n an. inner (el,0;r)*ght an. rig)r)*(ly ,e ini(t -er(-e'ti3e n the B*e(ti)n( ), -er()nal i.entity6 Ro0ana &nows herself "etter than any other of +efoe's characters. The prospect of re arrying offers her a rare freedo fro such "ondage. She only offers a se0ual contract for financial satisfaction and is always se0ually passive. Ro0ana's views on arriage 3 fe ale e ancipation. She has risen fro the dreaded state of poverty "y her own efforts "ut at the cost of social and psychological alleviation. N5/ /0tre e individualis and proud econo ic fe inis are to "e cut down "y hu an i peratives which can "e concealed for a ti e "ut never fully denied, Ro0ana's Fe esis is personified "y her daughter Ro0ana has con@uered the pu"lic world of se0 and trade "ut she is to "e rac&ed "y filial clai s on her (the daughter is seared for the identity of her other). N5/ Hnli&e the other of +efoe's novels* in Ro4ana the narrating character is left in a state of guilt. The novel ends without the co onplace repentance and prosperity the e a 3i(i)n ), a ')ntin*)*( -ri3ate hell6 N5/ The lure of upward social o"ility ! irresisti"le for +efoe's heroines. !t is the source of that tension "etween a dyna ic individualis and a static social hierarchy. )oll's and Ro0ana's independence is at odds with conventional fe ale roles (virgin* other* whore). They refuse to "e arginal or repressed in a hierarchical* patriarchal society. Ro4ana is +efoe's ost careful study of the tension "etween fe ale individualis circu scri"ed "y a patriarchal social syste . Ro4ana allowed the radical individualis to transcend the sin>repentance> forgiveness pattern of (oll Flanders) +efoe shows the psychological tur oil in an individual whose vast social a "ition has led to the urder of her daughter and the severing of all i portant hu an ties. Captain Singleton 9:;<=) is +efoe's second novel. The protagonist's retrospective auto"iography descri"es a state of guilt founded not only on filial diso"edience (3 R.C.)* "ut on life of cri e 7a state of 9riginal 2ic&edness8. Singleton has no fa ily connections. ;e is the classic e0a ple* -ust li&e )oll* of the a oral individual who accu ulates great wealth at the price of spiritual and hu an desolation. The second half of the "oo& deals with Singleton's adventures as a pirate deepens the cycle of orally challenged ac@uisition of wealth. +efoe reinforces the platitude that the love of oney is the root of all evils. Colonel Jacque 9:;<<): 0 +efoe's sense of society as a syste of disguises$

1B
0 0 0 0 . first>person* retrospective auto"iography the ethod of narration$ The urge towards upward social o"ility (as in (oll Flanders and Ro4ana)$ #i&e )oll and Ro0ana* Jac@ue involves 7necessity8 "oth to account for and e0cuse his cri es$ Repentance utterly unconvincing.

N5/ !n the preface +efoe at least recogni4es the distinction of fiction and truth and declines to adopt his usual techni@ue of stressing the transparency of the narrative process. #ed into a cri inal life as a child* Jac@ue survives in an a oral state and "eco es an e0pert thief. #ater on he is transported to Kirginia Jac@ue's Few 2orld regeneration as plantation owner prosperity "rings with it a retrospective guilt at past cri es (3 )oll). Then J. returns to /ngland* arries (not successfully) then "eco es soldier in Drance where he is soon pro oted as lieutenant and conse@uently as colonel. .fter a series of events he falls prisoner of war in !taly* arries again* returns to /ngland. %ut a retired and private life is insuffera"le for hi * so he chooses to return to Kirginia. De,)e a( an inn)3at)r ), ,i'ti)nal ,)r / +efoe's discovery of a particular way of writing prose fiction and his e0ploration of a variety of for s. ;e devised certain techni@ue fro already e0isting traditions. Robinson ,rusoe " internali>ati)n ), e1-erien'e6 .ccounts of en cast on unpopulated islands were hardly new* "ut in esta"lishing a "alance "etween aterial that easily lent itself to allegory and a world of real e0perience* +efoe gave the novel a peculiar identity that it has retained ever since. R) ,) is a wor& of prose fiction that lends itself to ultilayer analysis, the variety of structures, auto"iography* traveler's narrative* do>it>yourself utopia* political and econo ic allegory* fuse into a unity under the realist surface of the narrative "ut provide a te0t that offers several possi"le readership. +efoe argued that this wor& was 7true8* a for of history* real and factually accurate while "eing 7allegory8 and a 7satire8 a type of fiction that functioned on "oth a realistic and a sy "olic level. .lso* this is a &ind a fiction @uite different fro the ro ance 3 n)3eli>ati)n ), e1-erien'e "5a+htin&6 ,aptain #ingleton " sets the scene for an i aginary .frica with fertile plains and vast deserts (the tre& across .frica) and although +efoe did not e0ploit his scenery as fully as .nn Radcliff did (Gothic novel)* he does render an i aginary .frican landscape in a convincing anner. +efoe developed the possi"ility of 7adventure novel8. (oll Flanders " +efoe's treat ent of a wo an's atte pt to survive and thrive under difficult conditions shoved his a"ility to transfor previous for s (picares@ue novel) into fictions that were uni@ue. +efoe did not a"andon his ethod of creative archetypal figures "ut he succeeded in deepening the character of the protagonist the split "etween the e0perienced fe ale narrator and the young )oll. $ -ournal of the Plague 3ear " ay "e regarded as one of the earliest historical novels.

,olonel -ac.ue " fits the for al pattern outlined "y %a&htin as the n)3el ), e ergen'e* a su"genre with the 2ildungsroman) Ro4ana " +efoe's negative capa"ility the dra atist's a"ility to suspend -udg ent a"out his characters and their e0periences. De,)eF( n)3el(/ N5/ 2hat disappeared after Ro4ana was the interest in creating co ple0 characters and seeing the world through their eyes. The purely fictive i pulse in +efoe to create independent characters who tell their stories as e anations of their character and e0periences ended with Ro4ana. Representation of characters

15
e0periencing a vividly reali4ed world (interaction "etween characters and their environ ent) this gives the power of +efoe's narratives. ;is own preferences see to have "een for ore factual and e0pository for s. +efoe infor ed his fiction with so uch of his own personality and outloo& that it "eca e so ething @uite different fro anything that the world had seen "efore. N5/ ;is narratives were a for of prose narrative which if not @uite the novel in our sense* was in respects uch closer to the novel than what had "een written "efore in /nglish literature. De,)e a( n)3eli(t/ +efoe's audience was the plain iddle>class fol&* asserting their cultural and political independence at that ti e. +efoe's ost i portant innovation in fiction was his unprecedented ') -lete narrati3e reali( springing out of his long practice as a -ournalist. +efoe never ad itted that he wrote fiction. !n the preface of Robinson ,rusoe he states that he 7"elieves the thing to "e a -ust history of fact* neither is there in it any appearance of fiction. This clai to historical truth if false the story and the character are largely +efoe's invention. %ut the narrative is presented with so uch circu stantial detail tat the reader does not thin& of the "oo& as fiction. The ain ai of R.C. is to &eep as close as possi"le to the ind of the narrator. +efoe's style he concentrates his attention on the pri ary @ualities of o"-ects (#oc&e). ;e uses si ple language* his sentences are long* ra "ling* without a strong pause within the and yet* this gives the narrative so e authenticity. +efoe's natural prose style is closer to the vernacular of the ordinary person than any previous writer's style ad ira"ly adapted to the language of Ro"inson* )oll etc. +efoe's novels co only "egin with an act of self>assertion* of re"ellion* or e0clusion deter inistic necessity in ost of the cases (R.C.* ).D.). There is no for al division (chapters) in +efoe's novels. They are far ore co pletely lac&ing in eaningful patterns "ut the central organi4ing principle is the life of an individual presented in retrospect and in 1st person. N5/ +efoe insists (esp. in the preface of ,olonel -ac.ue) that his literary fiction is literal truth* a self> effacing transparent ediu . ;e see s to su"-ect art to an overriding didactic function "ut his novels also have aesthetic energies that ste fro an e0traordinary fictional i agination. N5/ +efoe's prose fiction sprang fro his e0peri ents in other literary for s, the pole ic pa phlet* the "iography* the history* the travel>"oo&. ;is novels include ele ents of all those for s. N5/ +efoe opened up new paths for the novel "oth "y shifting a part of the e phasis away fro ere events and on to the character of his hero and their effect on hi and "y ta&ing the whole life of that hero as a pattern of events wor&ing towards so e sort of goal* "e it only old age or repentance. THE RISE OF THE NO8EL/ A)nathan S;i,t Jonathan Swift was "orn on Fove "er B<* 1661 in +u"lin* !reland* the son of :rotestant .nglo>!rish parents, his ancestors had "een Royalists* and all his life he would "e a ;igh>Church an. ;is father* also Jonathan* died a few onths "efore he was "orn* upon which his other* ."igail* returned to /ngland* leaving her son "ehind* in the care of relatives. !n 161B* at the age of si0* Swift "egan his education at Iil&enny Gra ar School* which was* at the ti e* the "est in !reland. %etween 168A and 1686 he attended* and graduated fro * Trinity College in +u"lin* though he was not* apparently* an e0e plary student. !n 1688 2illia of 9range invaded /ngland* initiating the Glorious Revolution, with +u"lin in political tur oil* Trinity College was closed* and an a "itious Swift too& the opportunity to go to /ngland* where any

16
he hoped to gain prefer ent in the .nglican Church. !n /ngland* in 168=* he "eca e secretary to Sir 2illia Te ple* a diplo at and an of letters* at )oor :ar& in Surrey. There Swift read e0tensively in his patronLs li"rary* and et /sther Johnson* who would "eco e his MStella*M and it was there* too* that he "egan to suffer fro )eniereLs +isease* a distur"ance of the inner ear which produces nausea and vertigo* and which was little understood in SwiftLs day. !n 16=<* at the advice of his doctors* Swift returned to !reland* "ut the following year he was "ac& with Te ple in /ngland. ;e visited 90ford in 16=1, in 16=A* with Te pleLs assistance* he received an ). .. degree fro that Hniversity* and pu"lished his first poe , on reading it* John +ryden* a distant relation* is said to have re ar&ed MCousin Swift* you will never "e a poet.M !n 16=5* still an0ious to advance hi self within the Church of /ngland* he left Te pleLs household and returned to !reland to ta&e holy orders. !n 16=6 he was ordained as a priest in the Church of !reland* the !rish "ranch of the .nglican Church* and the following year he returned to Te ple and )oor :ar&. %etween 16=6 and 16== Swift co posed ost of his first great wor&* A Tale ), a T*9* a prose satire on the religious e0tre es represented "y Ro an Catholicis and Calvinis * and in 16=1 he wrote The 5attle ), the 5))+(* a satire defending Te pleLs conservative "ut "esieged position in the conte porary literary controversy as to whether the wor&s of the M.ncientsM >> the great authors of classical anti@uity >> were to "e preferred to those of the M)oderns.M !n 16== Te ple died* and Swift travelled to !reland as chaplain and secretary to the /arl of %er&eley. !n 11<< he was instituted Kicar of #aracor >> provided* that is* with what was &nown as a M#ivingM >> and given a pre"end in St. :atric&Ls Cathedral* +u"lin. These appoint ents were a "itter disappoint ent for a an who had longed to re ain in /ngland. !n 11<1 Swift was awarded a +. +. fro +u"lin Hniversity* and pu"lished his first political pa phlet* supporting the 2higs against the Tories. 11<5 saw the anony ous pu"lication of A Tale ), a T*9* The 5attle ), the 5))+(@ and The Me'hani'al O-erati)n ), the S-irit. !n 11<1 Swift was sent to #ondon as e issary of !rish clergy see&ing re ission of ta0 on !rish clerical inco es. ;is re@uests were re-ected* however* "y the 2hig govern ent and "y Nueen .nne* who suspected hi of "eing irreligious. 2hile in #ondon he he et /sther Kanho righ* who would "eco e his MKanessa.M +uring the ne0t few years he went "ac& and forth "etween !reland and /ngland* where he was involved>>largely as an o"server rather than a participant>>in the highest /nglish political circles. !n 11<8 Swift et .ddison and Steele* and pu"lished his 5i'+er(ta,, Pa-er(* satirical attac&s upon an astrologer* John :artridge* and a series of ironical pa phlets on church @uestions* including An Arg* ent Again(t A9)li(hing Chri(tianity. !n 111<* which saw the pu"lication of M. +escription of a City Shower*M Swift* disgusted with their alliance with the +issenters* fell out with 2higs* allied hi self with the Tories* and "eca e the editor of the Tory newspaper The E1a iner. %etween 111< and 111B he also wrote the fa ous series of letters to /sther Johnson which would eventually "e pu"lished as The Journal to Stella. !n 111B Swift was installed as +ean of St. :atric&Ls Cathedral in +u"lin >> a pro otion which was* again* a disappoint ent. The Scri"lerus Clu"* whose e "ers included Swift* :ope* Congreve* Gay* and .r"uthnot* was founded in 1115. !n the sa e year* uch ore unhappily for Swift* Nueen .nne died* and George ! too& the throne. 2ith his accession the Tories fell fro power* and SwiftLs hopes for prefer ent in /ngland ca e to an end, he returned to !reland Mto die*M as he says* Mli&e a poisoned rat in a hole.M !n 1116 Swift ay or ay not have arried /sther Johnson. . period of literary silence and personal depression ensued* "ut "eginning in 1118* he "ro&e the silence* and "egan to pu"lish a series of powerful tracts on !rish pro"le s. !n 11A< he "egan wor& upon 7*lli3erG( Tra3el(* intended* as he says in a letter to :ope* Mto ve0 the world* not to divert it.M 11A5>A6 saw the pu"lication of The Dra-ier Letter(* which gained Swift enor ous popularity in !reland* and the co pletion of GulliverLs Travels. The progressive dar&ness of the latter wor& is an indication of the e0tent to which his isanthropic tendencies "eca e ore and ore ar&edly

16
anifest* had ta&en greater and greater hold upon his ind. !n 11A6 he visited /ngland once again* and stayed with :ope at Twic&enha , in the sa e year 7*lli3erG( Tra3el( was pu"lished. SwiftLs final trip to /ngland too& place in 11A1. %etween 11A1 and 11B6 pu"lication of five volu es of Swift>:ope Mi('ellanie(. MStellaM died in 11A8. !n the following year . )odest :roposal was pu"lished. 11B1 saw the pu"lication of SwiftLs ghastly M. %eautiful Ooung Fy ph Going to %ed.M %y 11B6* when a collected edition of his 2or&s was pu"lished in +u"lin* his )eniereLs +isease "eca e ore acute* resulting in periods of di44iness and nausea, at the sa e ti e* pre aturely* his e ory was "eginning to deteriorate. +uring 11B8 he slipped gradually into senility* and finally suffered a paralytic stro&e, in 115A guardians were officially appointed to care for his affairs. Swift died on 9cto"er 1=* 1156. Religi)*( 9elie,(/ Swift was a clergy an* a e "er of the Church of !reland* the !rish "ranch of the .nglican Church$ and as such he was a ilitant defender of his church (and his own career prospects) in the face of the threats to its continued e0istence posed "y Ro an Catholicis at ho e in !reland (which was overwhel ingly Catholic) and in /ngland* where Swift and his peers saw the Catholics (and* at the other religious and political e0tre e* the +issenters) as threatening not only the .nglican Church "ut the /nglish Constitution. Swift was ostensi"ly a conservative "y nature, he instinctively sought sta"ility in religion as in politics* "ut sta"ility* which insured personal freedo s. !ndeed* so far as he was concerned* religion* orality* and politics were insepara"le, he consistently attac&ed theological atte pts (even within .nglicanis itself) to define and li it orthodo0y>>atte pts which* he felt* led ulti ately to anarchic dissent. The divisive tendencies of )an&ind had* he "elieved* over the centuries* pro oted the general decay of Christianity itself* which had lost its original clarity* si plicity* and coherence. The Truth had "een ishandled* corrupted* "y en who had "ehaved li&e Oahoos. ;e adhered to the tenets of the .nglican Church "ecause he had "een "rought up to respect the * "ecause the Church of !reland was the church of his social class* and "ecause his own a "itions were involved in its success* "ut also "ecause he saw the Church as a force for rationality and oderation$ as occupying a perilous iddle ground "etween the opposing adherents of Ro e and Geneva. Hnderlying all of SwiftLs religious concerns* underlying his apparent conservatis * which was really a for of radicalis * was his "elief that in )an God had created an ani al which was not inherently rational "ut only capa"le* on occasion* of "ehaving reasona"ly, only* as he put it* rationis capa4. !t is our tendency to disappoint* in this respect* that he rages against, his wor&s e "ody his atte pts to aintain order and reason in a world which tended toward chaos and disorder* and he concerned hi self ore with the concrete social* political* and oral aspects of hu an nature than with the a"stractions of philosophy* theology* and etaphysics. 5))+(/ $ !ale of a !ub " a satire directed against religious "igotry and intolerance. !t contains any vivid and well>o"served pictures of daily life that anticipate the ethod of the novel. %ut it is also full of high>spirited e0aggeration. $ -ournal to #tella " a series of letters that give a picture of #ondon and of the political aneuvers "ehind the scene. The letters were never intended for pu"lication. The letters show that the "rutal for of Swift's satire was the outer shell of an e0tre ely tender soul. . tone of inti ate affection* large part of the is written in a pure "a"y tal&.

11
$ (odest Proposal " the ost devastating of his tracts. !n it argu ent gives place to the "itterest satire. Fot Swift's isauthority the savagery of the attac& is the reaction of a sensitive ind to the lethargy and inhu anity a"out hi . 1ulliver>s !ravels " this is Swift's greatest satire, 0 Swift's irony$ his i agination$ the in itself are wor&ed out. atter>of>fact way in which the details of a situation* i possi"le

N5/ %oth Swift and +efoe had a gift for realistic detail. The ethod of satire here is belittlement. !n part !* the court of the #illiputians is very si ilar to that of /ngland the sa e factions* intrigues* -ealousness* a "itions$ the sa e ridiculous cere onies* the sa e pretensions. Gulliver is a used to find that the tiny creatures ta&e the selves so seriously. !n the ne0t "oo&* part !!* Gulliver is placed a ong the gigantic %ro"oliguagians the process is reversed, Gulliver feels very s all over the ridiculousness of his own pretensions. %oo& !!! is a satire against scientists and scholars the people of #aputa are a"sor"ed in a"stract speculations and do not have the words for 7i agination8* 7fancy8 and 7invention8 this is an open attac& against Rationalis . !n the final "oo&* the wise no"le horses are the lords of creation* while an (the yahoos) is least of the field. The Oahoos again reflect the situation in /ngland. . part of the satire, Gulliver li&es to descri"e the institutions of his country to his new asters* all the ti e eeting with isapprehension fro a people living in Htopian si plicity (they cannot even conceive the idea of a lie). These creatures &now neither disease* a "ition nor rapacity and cannot i agine the inhu an and i oral situation* which see s so nor al to Gulliver. 2hen Gulliver returns to his ho e country* longing for the ideal land of the fourth "oo&* an&ind has already "eco e hateful to hi . N5/ 9ne of the greatest achieve ents of Swift is that he vehicle for i aginative writing. Gullivers Travels an. the ')ntra't( ), ,i'ti)n 1ulliver>s !ravels is an attac& on the political and cultural institutions* as well as intellectual life of the 18 th century %ritain. Swift distrusted everything represented in the early novel of the century, its individualistic psychology* its "rief for class o"ility* its ad-usta"le ethics and orality etc. This was another way of reading the narrative as a parody of the middling fictional sub/ect as well not Gulliver's rendition of his civili4ation* "ut rather Gulliver as a representative of his civili4ation. Gulliver acts "oth as a critic of this civili4ation and as the pri ary product on display of this civili4ation. Dor instance* the first things the #illiputians discover in Gulliver's poc&ets are a watch* a silver coin and gold time and money 3 the odern /nglish an's credo. Gulliver is a odern figure at the "eginning of his voyage. !n the land of the giants Gulliver* the a0i alist* "eco es Gulliver the ini alist. %y the end of his travels he is not even sure what it is to "e hu an. Gulliver is the e0pert whose &nowledge turns out to "e li ited. ;e is an /nglish surgeon who rises to "e ship's captain* he's well educated* proud of his national origins and well infor ed "oth professionally and politically and yet he has li itations. !n each of the four "oo&s* Gulliver is faced with the e0traordinary. The first two voyages deal with physical disproportion* the third with largely mental imbalance* and the fourth replays the es of physical and ental disorder and de ands a rendering of Gulliver's preconceptions. Swift's isanthropy is "ased on a "eauty love for individual as distinguished fro a general hatred for 7that ani al called an8. ade prose a eans of literary e0pression* a

18
Gullivers Travels a( a (atire/ The "oo& is an e0a ple of a (ennipean satire a genre traced "ac& to the .nti@uity. The )ennipean satire's features are, 0 0 0 holds an ele ent of adventure and fantasy$ the character goes to the s&ies and descends underground$ the pilgri age tests the truth of an ideology$ ele ent of social utopia* i ages of perfect societies drea s* voyages* non>e0istent worlds v(s our own there is a tension "etween the $ the rhetorical instru ent to e0plore that tension is ir)ny to refer to one thing "ut ean another.

The satire in 1ulliver>s !ravels is "ased on the concept of difference, spatial, mental and moral opposition) !n "oo& !K there is focused on a temporal difference " in ter s of ti e(evolution* the perspective of an "eing superior to the ani als is reversed. !he 2attle of the 2oo s " an e0a ple of etaphysical art of arguing through i ages$ the @uarrel "etween the %ee and the Spider serves as the e "odi ent of the dispute "(n .ncients and )oderns. THE EN7LISH NO8EL/ Sa *el Ri'har.()n "128$ ! 1#21& The enthusias pro pted "y +efoeLs "est novels de onstrated the growing readership for innovative prose narrative. Sa uel Richardson* a prosperous #ondon printer* was the ne0t a-or author to respond to the challenge. ;is Pamela: or, 5irtue Rewarded (115<* with a less happy se@uel in 1151)* using (li&e all RichardsonLs novels) the epistolary for * tells a story of an e ployerLs atte pted seduction of a young servant wo an* her su"se@uent victi i4ation* and her eventual reward in virtuous arriage with the penitent e0ploiter. !ts oral tone is self>consciously rigorous and proved highly controversial. !ts ain strength lies in the resourceful* so eti es co ically vivid i agining of the o ent>"y> o ent fluctuations of the heroineLs consciousness as she faces her ordeal. :a ela herself is the sole letter writer* and the technical li itations are strongly felt* though RichardsonLs ingenuity wor&s hard to itigate the . %ut :a elaLs fran& spea&ing a"out the a"uses of asculine and gentry power sounds the s&eptical note ore radically developed in RichardsonLs asterpiece* ,larissa: or, the 'istory of a 3oung Lady (1151>58)* which has a -ust clai to "eing considered the ost rever"erant and oving tragic fiction in the /nglish novel tradition. ,larissa uses ultiple narrators and develops a profoundly suggestive interplay of opposed voices. .t its centre is the ta0ing soul de"ate and eventually ortal co "at "etween the aggressive* "rilliantly i provisatorial li"ertine #ovelace and the "eleaguered Clarissa* altreated and a"andoned "y her fa ily "ut a"iding sternly loyal to her own inner sense of pro"ity. The tragic consu ation that grows fro this involves an astonishingly ruthless testing of the psychological natures of the two leading characters. .fter such intensities* RichardsonLs final novel* !he 'istory of #ir ,harles 1randison (116B> 65)* is perhaps inevita"ly a less a "itious* cooler wor&* "ut its "lending of serious oral discussion and a co ic ending ensured it an influence on his successors* especially Jane .usten. .fter +efoe's fictitious auto"iographies* the ne0t great advance ca e again fro the lower iddle class, Sa uel Richardson. ;e had "een as&ed to co pile a anual of letter>writing for the use of the se i>literate and he had the "right idea that the sa ple letters could "e used to convey a oral essage and the result was the writing and pu"lishing of Pamela 9:;?:). The purpose "ehind this is the sa e oral didacticis as with +efoe "ut didacticis "uilt on e )ti)n(6 Pamela " the plot is si ple* li&e dra a a young educated servant girl attracts the son of the house$ he wants to a&e her his istress* "ut she re-ects hi * so he tries different eans of persuasion "ut when he sees that nothing else will ove her* he arries her 3 :a ela's virtue is rewarded. The for , the story is told at very great length and with an i (letters)* written "y :a ela to her parents* with occasional co ense a ount of detail* in epistolary for ents fro the parents in their replies.

1=
N5/ The fiction is &ept up that the author is pu"lishing a collection of letters that have fallen into his hands "y chance. %ut as no one in real life could write such lengthy screeds as :a ela's* no one can "e ta&en in "y this deception (as they can with +efoe's) the "oo& clearly presents itself as fiction. N5/ Richardson's atte pts to otivate the writing (e.g. how co e that a servant girl can write* how she anages to procure pen and paper while i prisoned* etc.) show the difficulties the first creators of the novel la"oured under. They had the feeling that in this unaccusto ed for dealing with everyday life* the author ust present so e sort of credentials for his &nowledge of the facts. .nd while in the old ro ances the ore i pro"a"le events were retold without any e0planation how they were to "e &nown to the author* here* where the facts were so close to life* so ething was needed to underline or -ustify the realis . Richardson's uni@ue insight into the co ple0ities of the fe ale heart he anages to suggest very cleverly that his heroine* without reali4ing it herself* is actually in love with her pursuer. The lesson Richardson see s to "e teaching is the not the beauty of virtue for its own sa e, but rather the idea that it pays to be virtuous) N5/ Richardson's contri"ution to the novel as a literary for than any for of prose narrative, was the focus on the do estic dra a rather

1. The story is "uilt round a definite conflict "etween two people and Richardson developed that conflict with a rising tension up to a point of cli a0* fro which it stic&s to its resolution co pact for . /verything is su"ordinated to the central conflict$ all the episodes are related to it. A. .s a result of the concentration of a central conflict the cast of characters is co paratively s all. Richardson does not try to give a whole picture of society "ut to concentrate on depths depth of picture is lac&ing in +efoe. B. The characters are isolated "ut it is not as in the picares@ue novel* rather in order to &eep strictly to the "asic conflict. Though the characters are isolated* it is only a te porary isolation* and they all have their roots so ewhere with it$ )r. % has a sister* though she does not appear until the action is over* and the e ory of his other is &ept constantly "efore us the fa ily has entered the novel giving it a structural sta"ility. 5. The develop ent of the whole through the .ial)g*e another point of contact with the dra a. . lot of 7said he8 and 7said !8 which are o itted in later novels. Though physical action plays a co paratively s all part in the whole* there is enough of it to aintain e0cite ent. ,larissa (1151>8), a greater achieve ent than Pamela. This ti e Richardson gave a picture of virtue unawarded* ending in tragedy. The story is uch the sa e as :a ela's e0cept for the ending. Clarissa is even a greater odel of virtue than :a ela* held up "y everyone as a neigh"ouhood. She co es fro a well>to>do fa ily$ her pursuer is a young li"ertine. odel to the whole

The -l)t, Clarissa's fa ily try to force a hateful arriage on her to save her fro the clutches of the dreaded #ovelace. She resists that arriage ("ecause it is without love) and runs away. She has no one to turn to e0cept #ovelace he esta"lishes her in a "rothel where she is &ept prisoner (li&e :a ela). 2hen all other easures fail* #ovelace rapes her. .fter this cli a0* in the iddle of the narrative* there is nothing left for Clarissa e0cept to die fro a "ro&en heart. Clarissa's "rother ortally wounds #ovelace in a duel. Fo e otion is spared us for it is in the e0plication of the e otions roused "y his dra atic conflicts that Richardson's power lays. ;ere these e otional effects have "een increased "y the uch ore co ple0 te0ture of the novel. The ,)r / the story is again told through letters "ut not only the heroine's account is given. #ovelace's letters to a friend are given side "y side with Clarissa's to her friend. The events are descri"ed in a sort of double perspective* seen fro the angle of each participant in turn. )oreover* we are given the answers of the two friends with their co ents and advice 3 multiple points of view. 2e are &ept oving "ac&wards

A<
and forewords in ti e. . further co plication co es fro story of her love serves as a contrast to the ain plot. the secondary plot Clarissa's friend and the oral

Clarissa is standing out against the cruelty and -ealousy of her relatives* fighting desperately for her ideal. She has all the @ualities of a tragic heroine and the effect of the catastrophe is truly oving. Clarissa is the first fe ale :rotestant in fiction. She dies a Christian death* having rediscovered the of her sufferings.

eaning

N5/ .n i portant side of Richardson's wor&, he showed that the e otions of ordinary people could "e as oving as those of the great tragic heroes of ro ance. !n fact* Richardson owes not a little to the good old ro ances. #ir ,harles 1randison (116B>5), its principal shortening lies in the character of the protagonist$ its strength, the relatively fast ove ent and the occasionally successful social co edy. This is Richardson's last novel. !t was intended as a &ind of corrective to ,larissa* in which the figure of the li"ertine #ovelace proved too attractive to so e readers. Grandison intended as a picture of anly perfection* held up as a odel to the upper classes to show that a an could "e "rave and attractive without "eing a ra&e or a drun&ard. %ut Richardson was uch less successful at portraying en than wo en and his hero is a sadly unconvincing prig. For has his situation the dra atic force of his earlier novels he is placed "etween an !talian and /nglish girl* "oth hopelessly in love with hi . There is a certain conflict, he is in love with the /nglish girl* "ut feels hi self attracted in a way to the !talian girl* whose religion however stands on the way of arriage with hi . The ,)r / epistolary novel. The story is told hopes and fears are vividly given. ainly through the /nglish girl's letters (;arriet) and her

N5/ The novel is interesting as an atte pt at a ore co plicated structure with its triangular plot and the use of "ac& histories and ysteries one is &ept in suspense over the actual relations with Cle entina. There is the further co plication of inor plots, there is another insolent suitor for ;arriet's hand and sir Charles's sister is at the center of another inor plot. N5/ .n atte pt at ore co ple0 portraiture* though it is at the e0pense of the depths and concentration of earlier novels. The co "ination of the letter and the didactic oral intention is characteristic of Richardson's fiction. !t was pro"a"ly fro +efoe that Richardson inherited his grasp of realistic detail (realis ? didacticis ). %ut Richardson was uch ore interested in analy4ing feelings and ental processes than +efoe. Pamela the e0actness and thoroughness with which :a ela's fluctuating feelings and states of ind are descri"ed* this psychological insight is shown into the reactions of the frightened and fascinated victi . Richardson's influence, in /ngland (J. .usten* G. /liot)* Drance and Ger any. ;is wor&s funda entally altered and shaped the course of the develop ent of fiction. The novels of Richardson and Dielding for what Richardson hi self called a new species of writing. They do not so uch re-ect the auto"iographical odel esta"lished "y +efoe and finally supersede it. N5/ Pamela was not the first epistolary novel "ut it pro"ed the ost influential. Hnli&e the pu"lic and retrospectively instructive e oirs of +efoe's heroes* :a ela's letters are private and i ediate and their reader "eco es so ething of an intruder into her confessions. Richardson is a pioneer in odern fiction and in finding ways of giving an i pression that a character is developing and changing fro within. .ll of Richardson's personages are what the 1= th century caller characters " they persuade us that they have inner depths and irrationalities.

A1
The revolutionary image of Pamela, 7;ow ca e ! to "e his :ropertyP8 (in her argu ent with )rs Jew&es). N5/ .fter Paradise lost this is the first great /nlighten ent consideration of se0ual relations. The @uestions are as&ed "y :a ela and answered "y the other characters* which have different answers fro the heroine* and fro each other Pamela* li&e all /nlighten ent wor&s* is a body of controversies. !n ,larissa* we have again the discussions of do estic life. Richardson returns to the and class, #ovelace a ti e aristocrat* Clarissa "ourgeois. a-or conflict of se0

N5/ The /nlighten ent is attached to dialogue and epistolary forms in wor&s of argu ent and persuasion. The dialogue is an i portant vehicle of philosophy* the letter for allows for personal o"servation that is su"-ect to change. The novel parta&es least of the /nlighten ent opti is Clarissa's rape and death* #ovelace's death. Richardson clai ed that his novel was of the 7!ragic @ind8 and argued against the narrow application of poetic /ustice to wor&s of i agination. !n ,larissa, ore co ple0ly than in Pamela* Richardson created a literary structure in which narrative ode* plot* characters and oral the e were organi4ed into a unified whole. Richardson's use of the letter for is "etter adapted to the presentation of personal relationships in ,larissa 9the e0pression of the characters "y writing a letter* not "y spea&ing is entirely in &eeping with the inward and su"-ective nature of the dra atic conflict) than in Pamela (only one conscience :a ela's* no direct presentation of )r. %'s point of view$ our picture of :a ela is one>sided). N5/ Hnli&e +efoe* Richardson avoided an episodic plot "y "asing his novels on a single action courtship. F%, Hhat i( .i(tin'ti3e a9)*t Ri'har.()nF( n)3el( i( n)t the +in. )r a )*nt ), e )ti)n@ 9*t rather the authenticity ), the -re(entati)n ), e )ti)n6 It i( the reorientation o narrative perspective ;hi'h gi3e( Ri'har.()n hi( -la'e in the tra.iti)n ), the n)3el ! thi( (*9Ce'ti3e an. in;ar. .ire'ti)n "in ')ntra(t t) Fiel.ing&6 THE EN7LISH NO8EL/ Henry Fiel.ing "1#$# ! 1#I%& ;enry Dielding turned to novel writing after a successful period as a dra atist* during which his ost popular wor& had "een in "urles@ue for s. ;is entry into prose fiction was also in that ode. $n $pology for the Life of (rs) #hamela $ndrews (1151)* a travesty of RichardsonLs Pamela, transfor s the latterLs heroine into a predatory fortune hunter who cold>"loodedly lures her "oo"y aster into atri ony. Dielding continued his @uarrel with Richardson in !he 'istory of the $dventures of -oseph $ndrews (115A)* which also uses Pamela as a starting point "ut which* developing a o entu of its own* soon outgrows any narrow parodic intent. ;is hostility to RichardsonLs se0ual ethic notwithstanding* Dielding was happy to "uild* with a cal and s iling sophistication* on the growing respect for the novel to which his antagonist had so su"stantially contri"uted. !n -oseph $ndrews and !he 'istory of !om -ones, a Foundling (115=) Dielding openly "rought to "ear upon his chosen for a "attery of devices fro ore traditionally reputa"le odes (including epic poetry* painting* and the dra a). This is acco panied "y a fla "oyant develop ent of authorial presence. Dielding the narrator "uttonholes the reader repeatedly* airs critical and ethical @uestions for the readerLs delectation* and ur"anely discusses the artifice upon which his fiction depends. !n the deeply original !om -ones especially* this assists in developing a distinctive at osphere of self> confident agnani ity and candid opti is . ;is fiction* however* can also cope with a dar&er range of e0perience. !he Life of (r) -onathan Wild the 1reat (115B)* for instance* uses a oc&>heroic idio to e0plore a derisive parallel "etween the cri inal underworld and /nglandLs political elite* and $melia (1161) pro"es with so "re precision i ages of captivity and situations of ta0ing oral parado0. Dor Dielding* Richardson was an e0a ple of what not to do. ;is whole approach* outloo& on life and oral dra atically opposed to Richardson's, ethod of wor& and

AA
Ri'har.()n "ourgeois 0 "elonged to e )ti)nal ('h))l 0 lit. odel dra a v(s Fiel.ing country gentry > "elonged to the rati)nali(t ('h))l > lit. odel Cervantes and ;o er > "efore his first novel he was a successful playwright

A)(e-h An.re;(/ "egan as a "urles@ue$ its connection with Pamela in the opening chapters Joseph* li&e his sister* resists the te ptations of his istress and her aid* deter ined to re ain true to the choice of his heart his neigh"our Danny. !n the closing chapters :a ela appears herself and o"-ects to their arriage. The ain the e of the wor&, represents Joseph's adventures on the road fro #ondon to his ho e after he has "een dis issed "y his istress in the old tradition of a loosely episodic series of encounters owes uch to %on Aui4ote. N5/ the very fact that there is an opening and a close* and that Joseph has a ho e and fa ily awaiting hi and that the +ulcinea of the story is not a fig ent "ut the pivot of the whole action gives the novel a definite shape and unity. This unity is further stressed fro the une0pected revelation of Joseph's "irth at the end. The a-ority of odern novels have a clear "eginning and or end and center around a section of the hero's life (as in Richardson's and Dielding's novels). Pamela and -oseph $ndrews* though in different ways* esta"lished the ain lines of the novel. The l)3e the e (the the e is not new what is new is the adaptation of the the e to the new for ) also characteristic to the a-ority of odern novels, Ri'har.()n ! the love interest was drawn chiefly fro heroic ro ance and fro tragedy$ Fiel.ing ! the struggles of two young people to co e together in the face of opposition are in the tradition of co edy$ 2hat attracted Dielding was not Richardson's senti ental stress on pathos and e otions* "ut the richness and variety of life* not the depths of the soul* "ut the soul's surface* as it appears to others. ;e did not appropriate Richardson's letter form which is ideal for self>pro"ing and co ent* "ut not for o"-ective narrative. Oet* Dielding's narrative (B rd person narrative) ethod is not e0actly o"-ective in the ordinary sense of the word* for he is all the ti e acting as author* co entator and guide. 9n the other hand* it is not su"-ective either > his characters are so uch outside "ias* so vividly conceived as still o"serva"le* that he feels the need to e0plain the hi self and give his opinion a"out the ight "e ter ed *ltra0)9Ce'ti3ity6 This ethod distances the characters fro the readers* di inishes the authenticity. -oseph $ndrews " a large cast of characters (larger than in Pamela* though the later is are uch ore sharply individuali4ed than in Pamela. Pa ela > though we &now everything a"out her e otions* she does not stand out clearly as an individual$ uch longer) who 0 0

A)(e-h an. Fanny > presented in such variety of situations and in relation to so any other characters that we &now the "etter than we &now :a ela$

N5/ Hnli&e Dielding* Richardson places hi self in the position of his characters* e0periencing their e otions hi self (*9Ce'ti3ity6 2e &now :a ela fro the inside* whereas we &now Joseph eth). offers the clearer portrait. ainly fro the outside Dielding's e1ternal

AB
;owever* a young and ideali4ed pair offers little scope for portraiture and Joseph and his love affair serve rather to "ring us into a touch with a fellory of ore sharply drawn characters, one of the is :arson .da s* Joseph's co panion on the road. The relations "etween the two characters are li&e those "etween +on Nui0ote (.da s) and Sancho :an4a (Joseph). They eet with a variety of people on the road and there is a great deal of (atire al ost all the people they eet have their wea&nesses and are help up to ridicule, the vices that Dielding holds up to scorn are heartle((ne((@ (el,i(hne((@ gree.6 :arson .da s* though he carries the story's oral essage* is also "eing ade ridiculous he is ridiculously wrong in inor atters* "ut so devastatingly right in what is really i portant. !n the preface to -oseph $ndrews Dielding announces that he is presenting a literary type that is new for /ngland the comic epic in prose, as he called it. !t is fro %on Aui4ote (ridiculing chivalric ro ances) that he too& the ideas of burles.uing the heroic style (of heroic ro ances). 2hat Dielding owned to Richardson is the idea of ta&ing for his central figures a foot an and a servant girl* putting their love to trials and the trials it undergoes is the center of his co position and descri"ing a short period of their lives. Oet all this is crossed with the traditions of co edy. !om -ones (115=): the general structure is the sa e as of -oseph $ndrews introductory section* dealing with To 's youth* up to the point when he is turned out of his ho e for "ad conduct* a final section in which all the characters are "rought together again in #ondon and ysteries are revealed. The iddle part consists of adventures on the road. The co panion of To on the road is :artridge* a figure again odeled on Sancho :an4a.

To is not a odel of virtue li&e Joseph* "ut a young an of strong ani al instincts* which are the chief cause of all the scrapes he fells into* yet he co pensates for everything "y his goodness of heart* generosity and fran&ness co "ination "(n ani al spirits and &indliness. The genre is reali(ti' ') e.y ! (-oseph $ndrews a farce) .t the center of the novel is the school of life. Chara'ter .ra;ing, 0 0 To , in spite of the co "ination of ani al instincts and &indliness* he is not a co ple0 character this co "ination leads to no internal conflicts (e0cept for Sophia)* yet* he is co pletely convincing and vivid. Fot all the characters are e@ually successful, any of the inor figures are odeled on the old hu our tradition of a single oddity of character. %ut there are plenty of ore successful portraits to "elieve the . otif of the young hot>head learning fro his e0perience and tested in the

The t)ne of the novel is )-ti i(ti' and the structure conveys a sense of sta"ility. $melia " Dielding's last novel. !t lac&s the overflowing richness and vitality of the co ic prose epics. Character drawing, its hero* a sort of To . elia's portrait is overBsentimental. Jones grown older lac&s the attraction of Dielding's ro"ust hero.

N5/ Though Richardson and Dielding represent two ain types of organi4ation of the novel* no novel is only the one or the other* i.e. dra atic (centering on a conflict "(n two individuals ,larissa) or epic (drawing a wider picture of society !om -ones). N5/ Dielding's art is one that reflects on itself (awareness of "eing a "oo& reflection on the "usiness of writing and reading it). Dielding's narrative processes and i age of hi self as a narrator. ;e ade the selfB conscious novel accessi"le to the /nglish tradition (with the pu"lication of -oseph $ndrews). ;e

A5
aintained that his for * comic epic in prose, will allow "oth for truth to nature and for the e0posure of affectation and vanity to ridicule. Dielding derives his ethod fro the tradition of moc Bheroic whose essential @uality is that the narrator preserves his separate status as dra atic presenter and anipulates his aterial for co ical effect. %ut -oseph $ndrews is not a moc Bepic "ut a comic epic. The Preface of -oseph $ndrews: he states that he's atte pting so ething 7novel8* he defines his genre comic epic in prose "oth so ething new and so ething old. The co ic approach (ridiculing) i plies closeness and fa iliarity. Tragi' has reached through the ancients Dielding's comic epic in prose C E-i' C) i' ! lost* failed to reach us 0 e-i' ! poetic genre dealing with the pu"lic deeds of historical or legendary persons engaged in a collective rather than individual enterprise.

!n !om -ones the epic @uality of the action consists in its preservation of a sweeping panora a of a whole society (as offered to Richardson's picture of a very s all social group). .ccording to the edieval theory of action the epic was characteri4ed "y two ele ents, 3eri(i ilit*.e and the ar3el)*(. Dielding prescri"es a greater e phasis on verisi ilitude for the new genre than that in current epic or ro ance. Dielding transposed the characteristic features of the epic into a co ic conte0t in two ways, "y his use of surprise and his introduction of oc&>heroic "attles. 2hat he eans "y the surprising is the series of coincidences. Dielding valued such devices* "ecause they ade it possi"le to weave the whole narrative into a neat and entertaining for al structure. ;is stress on the co ic was related to the place of the ridiculous in art, the true ridiculous has a source in hu an affectation proceeding fro vanity or hypocrisy. So* Dielding too& the wide range of character* incident* diction and reference fro the epic and re odeled this aterial according to the 7co ic8 rather than the 7serious8 principles. The epic and the co ic are further interpolated within a single te0t. !n the preface of -oseph $ndrews Dielding distinguishes "etween his wor& and the "urles@ue (a distortion of reality) and e phasi4es the need for 7e0actest copying8 of reality. Though his wor& contains oc&>heroic features* it is not a pure parody. QQQ 5*rle(B*e J deviation fro nature v(s ') e.y J i itation of nature

!n his co ic epic in prose* "urles@ue is allowed only in its diction. Dielding, 7& describe not man, but manners, not an individual but a species .8 Joseph chaste v(s To en-oying freedo ("oth of the are ty-e(* representatives of their se0).

N5/ Richardson provides a odel for the psychological novelists to follow. Dielding on the other hand provides a odel for the social and co ic writers. THE EN7LISH NO8EL/ La;ren'e Sterne "1#1= ! 1#28& .n e0peri ent of a radical and se inal &ind is #aurence SterneLs !ristram #handy (116=>61)* which* drawing on a tradition of learned wit fro /ras us and Ra"elais to %urton and Swift* provides a "rilliant co ic criti@ue of the progress of the /nglish novel to date. The focus of attention is shifted fro the fortunes of the hero hi self to the nature of his fa ily* environ ent* and heredity* and dealings within that

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fa ily offer repeated i ages of hu an unrelatedness and disconnection. Tristra * the narrator* is isolated in his own privacy and dou"ts how uch* if anything* he can &now certainly even a"out hi self. Sterne is e0plicit a"out the influence of #oc&ean psychology on his writing* and the "oo&* fascinated with the fictive energies of the i agination* is filled with characters reinventing or ythologi4ing the conditions of their own lives. !t also draws 4estful sti ulus fro a concern with the li itations of language* "oth ver"al and visual* and teases an intricate dra a out of Tristra Ls i agining of* and playing to* the readerLs li&ely responses. SterneLs #entimental -ourney !hrough France and &taly (1168) si ilarly defies conventional e0pectations of what a travel "oo& ight "e. .n apparently rando collection of scattered e0periences* it ingles affecting vignettes with episodes in a heartier* co ic ode* "ut coherence of i agination is secured "y the delicate insistence with which Sterne ponders how the i pulses of senti ental and erotic feeling are psychologically interdependent. !ristram #handy = volu es* scarcely any plot* the only sort of structural line that can "e followed is the line of free associations " a ethod that was atte pted again in the days of Kirginia 2olf and :roust. Sterne had "een attracted to #oc&e's !heory of association and "y the wor& of ;artley* the founder of the associationist school of psychology, 0 0 0 free association is the deter ining factor in the conversations each spea&er lives in his own world and is constantly pulling the conversation in his own direction so that every"ody tends to spea& at cross>purposes* only half attending to what the others ay say$ every "it of action is developed with the inutest account of gesture and facial e0pression* e0ceeding even Richardson's detailed stage directions* and suggesting not erely and e otional* "ut a co plicated play of worrying e otions (usually a"out ost trivial events)$ each character is given a few "asic features or actions stereotypical reactions in certain situation (adopted fro co edy)* "ut the circu stances in which they occur are so well contrasted that they co e to suggest a whole world of varied e otions.

The centre of the structure, the contrast "etween the two "rothers )r. Shandy (Tristra 's father) and Hncle To"y "oth of the cran&s in their own way* "oth of the sensitive souls* each full of ad iration for the other's good @ualities. 0 0 )r. Shandy encyclopedic type* reading ridiculous theories an attac& against rationalism. Hncle To"y war >hearted* sensi"le* and childish " reflects the superiority of e otions over reason. anifestation of the cult of the heart "rings out the "eauty of si ple

!ristram #handy is an e0tre e &indliness.

Sterne's ethod, (*9Ce'ti3e 1st person narrative$ interest in the ind* in response. #i&e Dielding* he &eeps hi self constantly "efore the reader's ind as presenter and co entator of the action* though he gives hi self an assu ed character the supposed auto"iographer. Hnli&e Dielding* however* who is the interpreter of o"-ective events* Sterne's interest lies chiefly in his own reaction to events it is his own ind that is the real su"-ect of the "oo&. Synta1 ! his sentence structure is as inconscopcentral as that of the "oo& itself$ a lot of parenthetical and long sentences are used. P*n't*ati)n ! his favourite punctuation any e0cla ation ar&s. Styli(ti' le3el 0 constant shifting fro ar&, the dash denoting a sudden change of direction$ also too

the collo@uial language to the ut ost level of #atinity.

8)'a9*lary #atinis s* artificial for ations are present. .s a product of the .ge of Reason* and age that "elieve in rules and canons* Sterne's conscious straining after the "i4arre* his deli"erate e0hi"ition of idiosyncrasy see s an al ost i possi"le anachronis .

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$ #entimental -ourney through France and &taly can hardly "e called a novel. There is even less plot than in !ristram #handy. !t is a highly su"-ective sort of travel "oo&* and yet it does not give an account of towns and landscape* "ut and account of personal incidents and e otions a su"-ective -ourney of e otional responses. .nd if Sterne did not e0actly create the cult of sensibility* he did uch to a&e it fashiona"le. Sterne an. Reali( / Sterne found a way of reconciling Richardson's realis of presentation with Dielding's realis of assess ent and showed that there was no necessary antagonis "etween their respective internal and e0ternal approaches to characters. Sterne's narrative ode gives very careful attitude to all the various aspects of for al realis , to the participation of ti e* place and person$ to a natural and life>li&e se@uence of action$ to the creation of a literary style which gives the ost e0act ver"al and rhyth ical e@uivalent possi"le of the o"-ect descri"ed. !ristram #handy an unprecedented e0peri ent with for . !ts organi4ation lies in the consciousness of the narrator. The "oo& suggests that all interpretation is relative* and the very act of reading it draws the reader into a participation in the creative process. Sterne achieved the unifying of the two strea s in the tradition of the /nglish novel, rationalism 9Fielding) and emotionalism 9Richardson)) !ristram #handy "rea&s all the rules* even of language and punctuation and deli"erately e0cludes all suggestions of a fact, despite of the considera"le length of the "oo& no"ody gets anywhere* nothing happens* and the hero does not succeed even in getting hi self "orn until half way through. Just when we thin& a story is a"out to develop* Sterne introduces an incredi"le digression a long piece of #atin (with translation on the opposite page)* a page with a ar"led design on it* a collection of aptery0es anything to o"struct or ystify. ;is characters are patches of senti entality* often saved* -ust in true* fro "eco ing aw&ish "y an ironical stro&e 3 a grotes@ue episode. SterneF( e1-eri ent ;ith the n)3el/ +efoe* Richardson* and Dielding, after the e0peri entation. the tradition of the novel "ent itself to su"versive

Rationalis (18th century) new for s of hu our* e0pression of e otion* e0tension of the li its of i agination* awareness of language this is the first age of e0peri ent in fiction, 0 0 0 upsets notions of ti e* place* action$ e0tends the "oundaries of what was not possi"le in the novel$ no longer -ust the o"servatory of hu an action with oral overtones* "ut a diversity of the genre fro now on.

Chara'teri(ti'( ), SterneF( ;riting/ originality and wit, 0 0 0 the originator of what ca e to "e the A<th century stream of consciousness$ his novel parodies the conventions of the novel as a genre at that ti e* "y pointing out the a"surdities and i possi"ilities of relating ti e* space* reality and relationships in a linear for $ the plot of the novel in the early 18th century followed the natural order of things, "eginning* iddle and end. %ut Sterne was the first to e ploy there 7not necessarily in that order8 T. Shandy is conceived at the "eginning of the novel* "orn in vol. !!!* "ut the story ends four years "efore his "irth. Sterne's fa ous use of graphological effect Tristra * as narrator* displays the difficulty of &eeping to one single line in his story$ 2hat passes in a an's own ind, Sterne's ain concern. ;e owes a great deal to #oc&e's Essay on 'uman *nderstanding B it has influenced any .ugustans* "ut Sterne was the first to ta&e #oc&e's ideas on the relativity of time, on random association, on the nature of sensation * and thus he "ro&e the newly set rules of novel writing and escaped fro the oral restrictions of the genre$

0 0

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0 .ssociation of language and thought, unli&e Dielding or Richardson* Sterne's narrator uses no fictional inter ediary device ("etween hi self and the reader) and fre@uently addresses the reader directly. ;is thoughts ra "le forwards* "ac&wards* and sideways where they will no consistency or coherence.

THE ROMANTIC PERIOD "1#K8 ! 18=<& +uring the 18th century Rationalis practically do inated the scene* especially in the opening years* "ut there was also the inevita"le reaction against it* which "ro&e through a various ways and at various points, senti entalis * Spenserian revival* the feeling for nature* edievalis * orientalis * the cult of the "allad. . last* in the final years of the century this reaction swells into a conscious ove ent of opposition* which goes "y the na e of Ro anticis . The /nglish Ro anticis 0 0 is not a ho ogenous ove ent. !t falls into two distinct periods, any uch

1(t generati)n ! the La+e -)et(, 2ordsworth* Coleridge closely associated* they have i portant views in co on. <n. generati)n > %yron* Shelley* Ieats differed in their views on poetry* though they had in co on.

N5/ !n poetry at least* Ro anticis did not end with the Ro antic era* "ut continued throughout the Kictorian age (Tennyson* )orris* Swin"urne* %rowning) down to the neo>Georgian sy "olis . The concept of Ro anticis , due to this diversity a ong the ro antic poets it is "est to "e regarded as a co "ination of ele ents* "ut no ro anticist would co "ine all the ele ents in hi self, 16 Intr)3er(i)n ! the ro antic poets are preoccupied with their personal e otions* as opposed to the general e0troversion of the preceding age$ <6 %elief that poetry a"ove all is in(-irati)n* and writes itself. .s 2ordsworth puts it, 7 $ll good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings)8 Ieats, 7&f poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to the tree, it had better not come at all)8$ =6 ReCe'ti)n of all rules and canons* all theories of i itation or of genres the poet was a"solutely free to evolve his own for $ %6 N) (en(e ), ,)r > typical for ost of the ro antics. They -ust eander on as the spirit oves the no Ro anticis in architecture$) I6 :Flight ,r) realityL ! this is not an escape* "ut rather a routine* search for "eauty. Still* this is not a very happy ter . The ter s 7ro antic8 and 7realistic8 are not necessarily utually e0clusive* e.g. 2ordsworth treated his pictures of nature and of village with co plete fidelity to 7realis 8. 2hat the ro antics actually did was to avoid the "rutality of everyday life* to reveal 7 the charm of novelty to things of everyday8B 2ordsworth's progra e. The ro antics were see&ing to enrich e0perience not to escape fro it li&e the later decadents* and to preserve values that were i portant. !t was not so uch a flight fro reality as rather a passionate search for "eauty. .ll of the were inspired "y an ideal of "eauty of so e &ind everyone had his vision* heterogeneity due to introversion. The ro antics re-ected reality* li&e the writers at any other ti e* "ut the for of their re-ection was ro antic. Their avoidance of the the es of everyday was a protest against this reality. 26 The '*lt ), 5ea*ty #6 The Rena('en'e ), H)n.er ! 7wonder8 in a "road sense, wonder at the "eauties that surround us* wonder at the co ple0ities of life* a sense of ystery in things* the wonder of a child at a world whose wor&ings he can only guess* etc. 86 Panthei( ("elief that God is in everything and everything is God$ worship of all gods) ! appears partly as a revolt against religious dog atis and a step towards atheis . !t is also an e0pression of the awe "efore the "eauty and the arvels of the world. +uring the 18 th c. +eis (natural religion) is a sort of pantheis "ut the e otional pantheis of the ro antics is so ewhat different.

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K6 Lang*age ), (*gge(ti)n( an. hal,0t)ne( as opposed to the .ugustan ideal that relied on sy "ols and analogies* on associations and ultiple eanings* not the a"straction of poetic diction "ut the 7real language8 of en (3 %en Johnson). N5/ The sense of wonder (1* 8) is* at "otto * the recognition that the 18 th century type of rationalis as a philosophical syste was dead (to the ro anticists the world was ununderstanda"le). The philosophy of ;u e, for he feels this eant a new world of di ly perceived* not fully e0perienced ideas* a world of relations too tenuous to "e e0pressed directly* for which a new language was needed. 2e only feel deter ination and connection "etween things no o"-ective ground. !ntuition is accepted as a valua"le instru ent of &nowledge. Ro anticis co es as a reaction against the spirit of rationalis and echanical aterialis and against the rules and canons it had enforced. N5/ Fone of the ro antics ter ed the selves 7ro antics8 or "elonging to a ro antic school of poetry (only %yron was called 7ro antic8). The Drench Revolution, only the 1 st generation had a firsthand e0perience of it. 2ith the Reign of Terror they "eca e disillusioned with the ideas of the Revolution. The Revolution had an e0ultating and li"erating effect "ut even without it Ro anticis would have to co e. The ain influence is the idea of liberty, e.uality, brotherhood and it is i portant for the ro antics as an indication of the political* social and poetical freedo . R) anti'i( ae(theti'(/

Ro anticis aesthetics is "ound with ro antic philosophy that is idealistic. The latter a&es the distinction "etween i.eal (the place where a"solute categories e0ist) v(s real (the split co es fro :lato)$ 0 the cult of art and "eauty the e phasis on the co es fro the distinction ideal v(s real art is a"out the ideal. 0 %elief in creativity art is a creative* not a i etic activity. The creativity of God is a odel the artist should ai at getting closest to the creativity of God God's creativity 3 the poet's creativity. Creativity for all the ro antics is the fusion of the idea and the image * the real is a vehicle of the ideal$ the real has no real e0istence everything is sy "olic. 0 / phasis on the spirit of Fature, 2ordsworth says that there is eaning "ehind natural o"-ects$ "eauty of Fature e0presses the spirit of Fature. Fature is a living organis * an organic process. 0 :oetry and truth, poetry reveals the highest truth* &nowledge of the highest order. Thus it produces delight. .s Shelley puts it, 7$ poem is the very image of truth)8 0 The status of the poet, the highest in the hierarchy "ecause of the e0traordinary role of poetry. The poet is li&e a god he has enor ous capacity* he is li&e a prophet* a seer* a teacher* a creator of the divine order. The ro antic poet creates a parallel world "y eans of i agination* the poet is the ediator "etween the two worlds (Coleridge new sy "olis ). 0 :oetry and "eauty, the transfor ing power of poetry it consists in a&ing things a part of a larger unity* whatever is ugly is transfor ed into ideal* also oral i prove ent is included. 0 The concept of i agination, the poet creates through i agination it is a divine a"ility. :oetry is the product of i agination. !t a&es possi"le the fusion of ideal and real. C)leri.ge, i aginati)n 3M( ,an'y. ! agination 3 superior power of unity* a"ility to create i ages$ it parta&es of the creative activity of God. Dancy is inferior to i agination* it involves association of ideas. The ro antics elevated the concept of spontaneity and inspiration. They thought that it is e0actly i agination* which ade the poets. Deat(, he accepted the wor&s of i agination as having a relation to ulti ate reality through the light* which they shed on it. Through the i agination he sought an a"solute reality revealed through his appreciation of "eauty through the senses. Sight* touch and s ell evo&e i agination.

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18th '6 ')n'e-t(6/ 1. an as a social ani al$ A. e phasis on those features that en have in co B. literature 3 co unicational activity$ 5. nature 3 so ething to "e seen and i itated.

on$

R) anti'i( / 1. the ro antics saw an eventually in his solitary state* self>co unicating$ A. e phasis on the special @ualities of each individual's ind. The ro antics e0alted the atypical* even when "i4arre$ B. literature 3 a solitary activity* or at the ost the co unication "etween two sy pathetic souls$ 5. nature 3 so ething to "e &nown* an inspiration for the poets. !t is in co unication with nature* the natural universe that an can e0ercise the ost valua"le of faculties i agination$ 6. the ro antics re-ected the correctness and perspicuity of the .ugustans (poetic diction). 2ith Ro anticis the portrayal of the general and universal in hu an nature gave way to the e0pression of individual and personal feelings. A*g*(tan age 0 0 0 0 0 reason* order* intellect* the head$ the child to "eco e adult* to "e civili4ed$ focus on society$ logic and rational$ poetic diction 0 0 0 0 0 R) anti'i( feelings* intuition* the heart$ the child its pro0i ity to God which will "e corrupted "y civili4ation$ focus on the poet's soul and on the life of the i agination$ ystical and supernatural$ 7the language of en8 cele"rated the uni@ueness and freedo of the individual.

ROMANTIC POETRY/ Hillia

H)r.(;)rth "1##$ ! 18I$&

2ordsworth spends nearly all his life in the #a&e +istrict the for ative influence of the landscape. !he Prelude, or 1rowth of a Poet>s (ind is written in "oo&. !t is an auto"iographical poe dealing with his stay in Drance* his trip to !taly* the .lps. !t is less an e0position of the real growth of his ind than an illustration of the philosophy he had evolved hi self. 0 0 2ordsworth loo&ed at hi self as a prophet* a an singled out "y Fature for her purposes to "e her poet$ Dor hi Fature does not wor& alone* an hi self possesses the power of aug enting what he ta&es fro outside through his feelings. This power is strongest in the little child and life itself tends to destroy it. ;e was happy in retaining this childish faculty of creative e otion or i agination* well into his later youth$ The union with Fature a sense of union with a living soul$

N5/ The very essence of 2ordsworth's ro anticis was the "rea& with rationalis , truth lies in a power of spea&ing through nature and not to "e apprehended through the rational faculties* what is apprehended "y the senses dissolves into the pure e otion. 2hat is i portant is not the o"-ective picture of nature* "ut the su"-ective refle0ion of nature in the ind (perception) this is 2ordsworth's ain the e. This is also the path of Transcendentalis and idealis ta&en since Iant. Dor i.eali(ti' -hil)()-hy the )9Ce't is only the perception of an idea* e0isting in the ind of the (*9Ce't Ro antic poetry stresses the su"-ect or the percipient ideas which 2ordsworth had "een i "i"ing fro Coleridge.

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Phaedins B the :latonic idea of the pre>e0istence of the soul (used also "y Coleridge) our soul e0ists so ewhere "efore it too& a hu an for . The true ho e of the soul is the world of ideas and at the sight of "eauty the soul is re inded of its for er state and it flies up towards the spiritual ho e. This e ory of a for er state is strongest in childhood. !he Preface to Lyrical 2allads " although 2ordsworth was the poet of Fature* he was interested in an&ind as well. ;e wished to study hu an nature and "elieved that it is "est to "e studied a ong si ple country fol&. N5/ 2ordsworth's theory of the power of Fature to heal* encourage and inspire, the soul is superior to the senses. !t is the sense of an ecstasy* while in co union with Fature that transcends the senses* the losing of oneself in nature till one pierces through the conception of the powers that lin& everything together* and that is the source of 2ordsworth's inspiration. Dor hi * poetry is 7 emotion recollected in tran.uillity8 this eant the sin&ing in oneself in e ory until this ystic state of ecstasy is achieved. Dor 2ordsworth i aginati)n was the reali4ation of the ystic lin&s connecting and vivifying reality.

2ordsworth wrote only one poe in which he feels so ething of a passion (a poe a"out the love of a an and a wo an)* yet* the ain the e of the poe is despair and isery of the young an* prevented "y his aristocratic father fro arrying the girl he loves. There is not a hint of se0uality or any for of "odily passion. %escriptive # etches and !he Evening Wal are volu es of poetry$ yet* there is nothing ro antic a"out these early poe s. They are written in the heroic couplets and in the poetic diction of the age$ there is the su"-ect is still the o"-ective description of nature. Lines ,omposed above !intern $bbey > in this poe 2ordsworth co pares his state of ind five years "efore* when he first saw the valley and now* when the soul of nature is pushing through his own and they are "oth part of a ystic har ony. Dor co that now on* the ain the e of his poetry was to "e the inspiration and power to "e a"sor"ed through union with nature. ;owever* in spite of the e0traordinary power he ascri"es to Fature* he had reali4ed an has a power superior to Fature and he odifies what he a"sor"s.

+uring their co panionship as neigh"ours* 2ordsworth and Coleridge decided to pu"lish together a "oo& of verse illustrating their poetical theories, Lyrical ballads) .s Coleridge e0plained in his 2iographia Literaria there are two sorts of poe s in it, 1. concerning persons and incidents supernatural* or at least ro antic written "y Coleridge$ A. su"-ects* characters and incidents fro ordinary life written "y 2ordsworth wanted to give the char of novelty to things of everyday life and to direct the ind's attention to the loveliness and wonder of the world "efore us. ;is interest is not only in rustic life* uneducated people and children* "ut also even in idiots (the "i4arre). !n the Preface of the Lyrical 2allads what is i portant for 2ordsworth is the 7 colouring of the imagination, whereby ordinary things should be presented to the mind in unusual aspect8 . Coleridge succeeded in persuading 2ordsworth that it was his ission to produce a philosophical epic 1st part of the Prelude and part of the E4cursion) /ven ore i portant for 2ordsworth is the revolt against poetic diction of the 18th century which he ade the central the e of the Preface) The Lyrical 2allads consist of, 0 oral tales (anecdotes)$ 0 two lyrical onologues, 'er eyes are wild and !he ,omplaint of an &ndian Woman "oth e0ploring the the e of the deserted wo an$ 0 true "allads (pure lyrics) show 2ordsworth at his "est.

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!he E4cursion (181A) disappointed Coleridge "ecause it was very different fro together. the wor& they had planned

.fter 2ordsworth settled as a arried an* he lost his old enthusias * his revolutionary ardour and "eca e an opponent of all change and refor . %ut 2ordsworth never a"andoned his hu anitarian ideas. 2ordsworth's greatest fault as a poet was that having adopted the role of a teacher (what he considered a poet's ission to "e) he was so uch preoccupied with hi self that he could not lose hi self in the personalities he descri"ed (e.g. his villagers) and he always re ained as the interpreter "etween the reader and his su"-ect. That could "e regarded as a refle0ion of the general su"-ectivis , the su"-ect is not his own e otion* "ut is outside hi self. (ichael " is a lyrical poetry fro !he Prelude. 2ordsworth assu es the role of the noter of i pressions and the feelings they inspire. ;is power of o"servation is e0traordinary &een* he would notice the ost vivid details. ;ere 2ordsworth a"andoned the affected si plicity of the "allad style. Dight Piece is less vivid* less poetic. 2ordsworth does not descri"e the scene and let it wor& on the i agination freely. ;e had to introduce hi self and tell the effect it produced on hi * not as an e otion given directly* "ut rather as a "ald state ent. N5/ 2ordsworth's greatest wor&s are those* in which nature is given not in the for of a description* clear cut and detailed* "ut as a ood or e otion* where the ood is inherent ! the description* not superi posed with a didactic or reflective co entary. /.g., *pon Westminster 2ridge and Evening on ,alais 2each are sonnets. 2ordsworth used a sy "olic i agery that suggest far ore than it states* "ased not on a single pair of clearly ar&ed @ualities* "ut a co ple0 of vaguely sensed affinities* the recovery of which* after the clear* rational* sharply defined si iles of the classicists* was one of the greatest achieve ents of the ro antics. Ro antic poetry is the -)etry ), (*gge(ti)n6 2ordsworth wrote in two distinct styles the elevated )iltonic style ("lan& verse)of his ore philosophical poetry* influenced ore "y the spirit of )iltonic verse rather than "y its anneris (e0c, inversion* dou"le negation* the use of verse paragraphs* long* rolling periods with heavy en-a " ents) and the "allad style (e.g. %affodils) !he Prelude: 0 0 0 philosophical passages that illustrate 2ordsworth's ideas$ descriptive passages, illustrate the interaction "etween the feelings of the "eholder and the scene* which is the "asis of the ro antic attitude towards nature* the colouring of the i agination that was central to 2ordsworth's theories$ a ong these there are passages that are ore i pressionistic and less so.

!t is not his philosophical poetry* though his philosophy is Ro antic* that the ro anticis is ost apparent* "ut rather in the si plicity of the "allad for here 2ordsworth freely follows his ood and the ro antic spirit sei4ed hold of hi ost fir ly. (yet* so eti es this si plicity of the "allad style "etrayed hi ). 2hen 2ordsworth is erely giving e0pression* without trying to teach* to what he feels he would fall into that indistinct longing for so ething unattaina"le and indefina"le that is the soul of Ro anticis . Oet in these "allads* the structure clarity and strictness of for * is not truly ro antic. There is the clear sharpness and correctness of the etre (18 th c). This is not the true "allad any ore which is very fle0i"le and varied (for that fle0i"ility we ust turn to Coleridge). .s a whole* the structure is architectonic its one does not associate with the ro antics.

BA
Sy 9)l(/ Ro anticis , "rea& with reason* the enthroning of intuition and e otional thought that perceives things ine0pressi"le in concrete for this forced the poets towards the creation of sy "ols to represent what they could not e0press* for sy "olis is the inevita"le result of e otional thought and ysticis * "e it religious ysticis of the )iddle ages or nature ysticis of the Ro antics). 2ordsworth was already on the path that was to lead to the e0tre e sy "olis of Shelley and Ieats. Hlti ately* his 7i aginative i agery8 was sy "olical it is in such points that he shows hi self ost clearly a ro antic. Oet* these points do not play an overwhel ing role in his poetry as a whole. 2ordsworth was not ar&edly ro antic in his ethods. ;is use of language re ained* in spite of any typically ro antic i pulses* closer to the pre>ro antics. Oet* his attac& on poetic diction was to "e of i ense i portance for the ro antic ove ent. 2ordsworth's early poetry is radical not only "ecause it e "odies revolutionary theory* "ut also "ecause it atte pts to shift a literary perspective away fro what he saw as false sophistication (18 th c). 2ordsworth's insistence on the orally educative influence of nature and the interrelationship of a love of hu anity and a love of nature pervades !he Prelude. The poe had any revisions. +escriptive "lan& verse. The poe periodically pauses to ediate* to assess and to a&e conclusions. Poems in !wo 5olumes* 18<1, &mmortality Ede, & wandered lonely as a cloud * etc* suggest the e0tent to which 2ordsworth's poetry had oved "eyond the ere loco>description of his predecessors. ;is representation of nature is dyna ic* panora ic* not selective and shot through with the creative energy of God. 2ordsworth's preference for hu "le and rustic life followed naturally fro the conception associated with Rousseau's na e. The lesson Fature has to teach us is how to feel* how to "eco e a renovated spirit* free fro crippling self>consciousness. The concept of the noble savage the i plication that uncorrupted "y the artificialities of civili4ation. en are "etter when closer to their natural state*

2ordsworth is far fro eschewing figurative language* "ut his verse is characteri4ed "y directness of state ent and co parative freedo fro i agery. ;e e0tracts fro the given situation its own intrinsic e otional content choosing the language which records ost literally and e0actly the @uality of the e0perience descri"ed. !n !intern $bbey nature is to e "race not only in ani al* "ut in hu an nature as well (in the li&e of 18 th c tradition). The dichoto y "et the ental and the aterial world* which philosophers had increasingly ta&en for granted since 11th c. was to 2ordsworth wholly antipathic and he fre@uently in his verse atte pts a general state ent of the "asis of their unity. 2ordsworth declared -)etry t) 9e the (-)ntane)*( )3er,l); ), -);er,*l ,eeling(? it ta+e( it( )rigin ,r) e )ti)n re')lle'te. in tranB*ility one of the crucial definitions in Ro anticis . Fr) 0 !re ace to "yrical #allads: The principal o"-ect which ! proposed to yself in these poe s was to a&e the incidents of co on life interesting "y tracing in the the pri ary laws of our nature, chiefly as far as regards the anner in which we associate ideas in a state of e0cite ent$

BB
0 Rfor all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings* "ut though this "e true* poe s to which only value can "e attached were never produced on any variety of su"-ects "ut "y a an who "eing possessed of ore than usual organic sensi"ility had also thought long and deeply. 9ne other circu stance which distinguishes the poe s fro the popular poetry of the day is that the feeling therein developed gives i portance to the action and situation and not the action and the situation to the feeling. /0cept in a very few instances* the reader of those poe s will find no personification of a"stract ideasRand little of poetic diction. This ! have done for the reason to "ring y language near to the language of en.

H)r.(;)rthF( 3i(i)n ), nat*re, the i portance of the i pact and influence of nature on the hu an ind. 2ordsworth cele"rates the spirit of an living in har ony with his natural environ ent (intrinsic life) and away fro the corrupt city. E((en'e in H)r.(;)rthF( -)etry, not the description of nature "ut the develop ent of the inner ind which records this world of nature is i portant. 2ordsworth "elieved that only nature could give the o ents of insight and understanding to see into the heart of things. The 'hil., the single source of wisdo and truth* it is the sy "ol of all that is holy and good* the father of an. H)r.(;)rthF( -hil)()-hy ), Nat*re/ he preaches organic fusion "etween an and nature where"y they for a higher third. Fature for hi was a spiritual ho e (anti>civili4ation attitude). 2ith hi there are two aspects of unity of nature, (en(*al and tran('en.ental/ 1. Fatural "eauty "uilds inner har ony* creates love* peace and understanding. This unity is on a sensual and e otional level (in the line of Rousseau). A. This unity is "eyond the senses and e otions (trans>sensual). !t see&s fusion with the invisi"le and transcendental. !nternally* it leads to har ony* e0ternally to alienation. Dor 2ordsworth there are B types of unity with nature, 1. !n childhood, the fusion with Fature is so co plete that he feels it not as e0ternal part fro hi (!intern $bbey). ;e was una"le to thin& of e0ternal things as having e0ternal e0istence. The "rea& of natural law achieves unity on a transcendental plain. A. in the line of #oc&e's e0ternal e0perience (natural piety), natural "eauty "rings a savage>li&e delight and love. This is the state of adoration of Fature ( (y 'eart Leaps up). Fature is seen not only as a "enevolent power* "ut also as supre e reality in the Prelude, 7 Rfostered ali&e "y "eauty and "y fear8. B. !n aturity, nature is seen as a sy "ol of a"solute reality after internal conte plation. !n !he Prelude this reality is called 7 !he wisdom and the spirit of the universe8. Hnity with nature is now a @uasi>religious act with aesthetic and oral effect in it. The tool for this unity is e )ry it trans utes reality and helps unity with nature. The (en(*al .elight i( the (tarting -)int ,)r a (*9li e ,*(i)n ;ith the (-irit ), Nat*re6 ROMANTIC POETRY/ Sa *el Tayl)r C)leri.ge "1#<< ! 18=%& H)r.(;)rth 0 0 concerned with the ordinary* everyday world$ interested n the i pact of e ory on the present$ 0 C)leri.ge a sense of the ysterious* supernatural and e0traordinary world$

B5
0 wanted to e0plore everyday su"-ects and give the a supernatural colouring. 0 wanted to give the supernatural a feeling of everyday reality$

Coleridge's "oyhood was the opposite of 2.'s instead of open>air life filled with country sports and lovely scenery* it was spent in the city where reading and daydrea ing were the only alleviations Coleridge's elancholic te pera ent. .fter leaving school in 11=1* for hi it ay "e said that ro anticis was the flight fro reality. ;is B great poe s see to represent Ro anticis in its present for and appear as a flight into a drea world of fantasy. Coleridge was an ardent adherent of the Drench Revolution. The friendship "(n C. and 2., up to it Coleridge had "een trying to "e a philosophical poet >E Religious (usings pure thought turned into verse in the anner of the 18 th century) There is little i aginative strain in these early wor&s. N5/ .fter 11=1* 2ordsworth's poetry see s li&e the proper continuation of Coleridge's early wor&* while Coleridge hi self struc& out in a new direction. The sa e happened with poetic diction, Coleridge had recogni4ed its hollowness long "efore 2. who had not sha&en it off entirely ( %escriptive # etches) and even returned to it once in his later life. Coleridge inspired 2ordsworth with his pantheistic philosophy "ut e@ually his own pantheis fresh colouring through 2ordsworth's cult of nature. %efore the Lyrical 2allads, 0 !he Eolian 'arp " written in the first year of his arriage. The descriptive passages are not the generali4ed sense of other 18th c poe s* "ut a personal and specific sense* with personal e0perience placed in the centre. The use of "lan& verse for a co paratively short and lyrical piece is a defiance of the theory of genre Coleridge is free to follow his ra "ling thoughts* without adapting the to any fi0ed sche e. Frost at (idnight " written during the 1 st year of his friendship with 2. The scene is even ore inti ate* the e otion is uch deeper* the wild scenery of 2.'s la&es is present. Gradually Coleridge has learned to o"serve the details of the natural scene. received a

!n any respects* a part of Coleridge's poetry coincides in its the es* ideas and ai s with that of 2. The difference is in the usic of the verse ease and har ony Coleridge is one of the finest usicians of /nglish poetry. ;e creates not onotonous "ut e0traordinary varied verse. .nother difference with 2. is that Coleridge gives his pictures with greater i ediacy* as though writing at the very o ent of e0perience* while 2.'s poetry is 7e otion recollected in tran@uility8. The "ody of Coleridge's wor& intensely personal and inti ate* yet* his B great poe s are in their su"-ects entirely i personal and unrelated to any direct e0perience, tales of wonder and fig ents of pure i agination. 7The incidents and agents were to "e* in part at least* supernatural$ and the e0cellence ai ed at supposing the real.8 The outco e of this progra is !he Rime of the $ncient (ariner: 0 0 0 0 0 for , close to a edieval "allad "allad style$ the allegorical and sy "olic power of the poe , lac& of water 3 dryness of spirit* the "ecal ed ship 3 the ai less soul of a an who has sinned$ ove ent fro innocence to e0perience central to a great deal of Ro antic writing$ the pantheistic idea of Fature e0acting punish ent for the infringe ent of her law of love and forcing the sinner to reali4e what he has done$ the point in which the poe was in advance of its day, the use of wonder and the supernatural. The stress on the effect of the horrors on the ariner's ind (psychological aspect) e0ists "ut is not central serves only to enhance the sense of the arvelous and a&e it ore vivid.

B6

N5/ The use of wonder ar&s a very i portant step in the progress of ro anticis the "rea& through of the purely i aginative in the highest spheres of literature. .ctually* it is not the arvels the selves that are so characteristics "ut the widening of the ental hori4on to include the whole world of what are now &nown as para>psychological pheno ena. 0 poetical value of the poe , the vividness and clarity of the pictures it "rings. The intense use of colour the ice is given as e erald* the "loody sun is in a copper s&y etc. The continual use of contrast* e.g. the freshness a id the tropical heat so e of these contrasts have a suggestive force that a&es the powerful sy "ols.

;ow these pictures are all caught up into the rapid rash of the story for ing an inevita"le part of the action* in fact those pictures are the action should "e clear and vivid. The si plicity of the language, so e of the words concrete and the synta0 is the si plest i agina"le. ay "e anti@uated or unusual* yet* they are a"solutely

Coleridge ai ed at creating a sense of at osphere of distance and was using the old "allad style and the old "allad eter si ple and -ingling. @ubla @han an opiu drea * an e0a ple of auto atic writingQ

;ere Coleridge e "odies the essence of the poetic i agination the ost powerful of the hu an senses* which is alone capa"le of perceiving the underlying har ony of all things and of understanding the truth a"out the world. Coleridge presents an e0otic landscape often interpreted as sy "oli4ing the i agination. ove ent of the creative

The poe is a vision seen in a drea it has all the vague irreality of a drea . .ssociations play an even greater part here than in the $ncient (ariner "ecause there is no fra ewor& of plot to organi4e no logical content* and they follow one another with the inconse@uentiality of a drea . 2hat "inds these together is Coleridge's sense of usic. ;is tric& of repetition, whole phrases &eep rising to the surface again and again as in a sy phony. The elodies change* ra "ling ove ents elt into trochaic or anapestic$ three* four and five "eat passages replace each other* "ut the recurring the es with the repeated elodies prevent the whole fro falling into chaos the governing for is not logical "ut usical. The pictures are uch ore ela"orate than in the $ncient (ariner "ut they have no crystal sharpness and very few of the ad-ectives have direct appeal to the eye* al ost no use of colour. The ad-ectives used are in fact e otional rather than pictorial. Contrast, the garden with the pleasure do e v(s the sunless caves. %ut since the pictures are vague and disconnected* these contrasts dissolve into one another and increase the vagueness* instead of achieving sharpness. ,ristabel " again a frag ent only (3 Iu"la Ihan) !t stands "etween A e0tre es of crystal sharpness (.ncient )ariner) and drea y it wor&s essentially through suggestion rather than state ent. ist (Iu"la Ihan) though

Rhetorical @uestions that interrupt the narrative and create a sense of ystery are used though Coleridge does not depart fro the realis of facts. They suggest that "oth reader and narrator are present at the scene

B6
and give a sense of i ediacy. The power with which the concrete at osphere of the old castle and the still oonlit night is given. )etrically* the for shows Coleridge's yearning after freedo and variety of cadence, the general ove ent is ia "ic* "ut the principle in which the etre rests is not of feet at all "ut of &eeping the four strong accents for each line and leaving the freedo for the accentuated sylla"les* which can vary in nu "er it is the ulti ate triu ph over the for alis of the 18 th c verse the su"-ect evolves its own usic with every change of ood. Dor , the edieval "allad for . ore than the Lyrical 2allads is the real cornerstone of /nglish ro anticis .

N5/ ,ristabel * far

The language is si ple* so is the eter. The pictures have not the sharpness of outline* nor the vivid coloring of the $ncient (ariner. ;ere they only serve to give the at osphere and are &ept di and rather colourless. The ost re ar&a"le fact a"out the poe is that it achieves its effects al ost without the use of i agery. ;ere* e0cept for he constant personifications of nature* it is practically the verse usic alone that a&es the poetry. .fter going to Ger any to study philosophy Coleridge's career as a poet ca e to an end philosophical wor&s and literary criticis , 2iographia Literaria. Coleridge's ain wor& was to transfor the echanistic psychology of the 18 th century and to initiate a reaction against it. ;e introduced to /ngland the new idealis of Ger any. ;e set out to e0plore the unconscious wor&ings of the ind. ;e "rought a"out the revolution in literary thought that consists in regarding the i agination as the sovereign* creative power* e0pressing the growth of a whole personality. Coleridge asserted that a :oet's heart and !ntellect should "e inti ately co "ined with the great appearances in nature, 0 0 Gree& poetry all natural o"-ects were considered dead 3 e0a ple of ,an'y the law of associations v(s ;e"rew poetry each thing has a life of its own and yet they are all one life 3 e0a ple of i aginati)n !transcends sensational and aterial. and initiative of the oral will* the divine

.fter 18<B Coleridge wor&ed on his cardinal doctrine, freedo spar& in each of us 7the ! of every rational %eing8.

)any of Coleridge's favourite i ages are either i ages of ill* inati)n, oonlight* sun* etc* or i ages of nat*ral )ti)n, waterfalls* ship's foa * clouds* the leaves of the tree in the wind* the flight of "irds. Coleridge too& fro the Ger an ro antics the idea that poetry should "e independent as opposed to echanical construction. R) anti' (y 9)li( in C)leri.geF( aC)r -)e (/

Dor Coleridge* as for :lato* physical appearances are the 7shadows of ideas8* pro-ected upon the transient flu0 of nature. /very poetic landscape for hi is the landscape of the ind 7so ething within e8. !n that sense Coleridge's sy "olis is artificial drawn fro the world of what e0ternally e0ists within the hu an ind. 2ith these concepts in ind and in the line of the ro antic tradition of organic fusion with nature is written !he Rime of the $ncient (ariner)

B1
The )ariner's dra a, he is una"le to conceive and appreciate the deep relation "etween the hu an and the natural "oth are products of the sa e act of creation and he is una"le to read nature's sy "ols. ;e is i prisoned "y the echanistic ind of the rationality and e piricis * so* he &ills the al"atross the "ird is the sy "ol of Fature's two>fold unity, the union within her of the spiritual and the aterial. The )ariner's spiritual eta orphosis, initiation in the &nowledge of the hidden eanings of things. ;e is directed in this eta orphosis "y so e super>personal power sy "oli4ed "y the sun and the oon its two aspects. Dor Coleridge nature is sy "olic, it stands for an a"solute spirit the lac& of rain and wind* the rolling sea sy "oli4e so e transcendental presence. 2hen the )ariner reali4es that he is a part of an organic and natural whole he anages to see the "eauty around. Sy "ols in @ubla @han: 0 0 0 0 0 0 the pleasure>do e, creation of deli"erate hu an desire* i.e. of autono ous will* it is an artifice$ the cavern* the sea, they "elong to Fature* they are a natural creation (v(s the pleasure do e)$ natural creations are agnificent and terrifying walls and towers are "uilt around the do e to guard it, it is a piece of paradise* which has transcended the li its of ti e* it has stepped into eternity with its perfection$ the fountain, stands for the "eginning of ti e and for the poet's inspiration which flows vigorously and energetically$ the sacred river, it is the flow of ti e into the future into eternity$ the do e is not secure nothing aterial will ever last Feoplatonis 3 we live in a world of shadows, only the reflection of the do e unsta"le* floating on the water.

!he Rime of the $ncient (ariner 3 a world of pure i agination it has the logic of a drea $ a world of sudden* un otivated succession of i ages. 0 0 1st stan4a, the difference "(n the outside logical world (the wedding* the festivities and the an0ieties of the wedding all fall within the ordinary world of sense and logic) v(s the world of the poe (the )ariner who has only his drea to offer) !n this world of i agination there are two stages,

1. the participation of all reality living and non>living* real and spiritual* in one organic whole$ A. the constant shifts "(n su"-ect and o"-ect in the pheno ena of the i aginative world. ROMANTIC POETRY/ A)hn Deat( "1#KI ! 18<1& Deat(F( letter(/ reflections on the nature of poetry and critical precepts for the evaluation of poetry. .ccording to Ieats we disli&e and distrust poetry which tries overtly to persuade us o the poet's point of view poetry should "e ore indirect* co unicating through the power of its i ages. Early -)e (/ focus on the idyllic and natural world. Ieats @uestioned whether poetry should offer an i aginative escape to a world "eyond through a networ& of ideali4ed visions. Later -)e (/ focus on the shifts "etween art (i ortal) and poet ( ortal)* art and nature* ideal and real.

Main the e in Deat(F( -)etry/ the conflict "(n the everyday world (suffering* death and decay) and eternity (the ti eless "eauty and lasting truth of poetry and the hu an i agination). Earlie(t -)etry/ ainly long poe s* so e of the epic in style and concept,

B8
0 0 Endymion* 1818, written in 5 "oo&s$ derived in style and structure fro Gree& legends and yths. )ain the e in the poe s is the search for an ideal love and happiness "eyond earthly possi"ility. !he Fall of 'yperion, 181=, influenced "y )ilton (inversion* use of ad-ectives as adver"s). The su"-ect atter of the poe is the downfall of the old gods who are ar&ed "y their strength and "eauty. The idea that evolution is a constant and inevita"le process 3 a law of nature.

Ieats continued to write long poe s* which allowed hi to develop a characteristic feature of the style of all poe s, (en(*)*( i agery$ which supports descriptive detail. Ieats* -ust li&e Coleridge* was attracted to e0otic settings for his narratives and edieval conte0ts of high Ro ance. ythic classical "ac&ground

&sabella, Lania, #aint $gnes Eve, La 2elle %ame #ans (erci narrative poetry* verse tales e0plore the fa iliar Ro antic the es, 0 relationship "etween e otion and reality$ 0 i per anence of hu an love$ 0 search for an elusive "eauty. Ieats* along with other ro antic poets* was attracted "y the )edieval .ges ( 18th c. classicis ). This ad iration allows hi to a&e particular use of the "allad for to e0plore aspects of the irrational* unconscious and supernatural world. Ieats's odes are rich and sensuous variety of hu an e0perience set against the transience of hu an life. They e0plore "asic contradictions, 0 elancholy found in delight$ 0 pleasure found in pain$ 0 e0cite ent found in "oth e otional sensations and intellectual thoughts. Ieats's contrasts, > drea s v(s reality$ 0 the i agination v(s the actual$ 0 the tangi"le v(s the intangi"le. Ieats cele"rates "eauty "ut at the sa e ti e he &nows that all things ust fade and die. ;e thought that great poetry grows fro deep suffering and tragedy (2. sudden influ0 of e otions recollected in tran@uility). Ieats is regarded as the aster of the for of the ).e6 ;e develops a poetic language appropriate "oth to the for of the ode and the nature of the the es. Deat(F( lang*age/ 0 renders e0perience precisely$ 0 captures the rhyth and ove ent of thought and feelings$ 0 registers a full range of sense i pressions$ 0 synaesthesia the use of i agery which descri"es sensory i pressions in ter s of other senses. /.g. sunbunt mirth " we see the sun"urnt faces and at the sa e ti e hear the laughter of those people* 7a touch of scent8) Ieats's pursuit of the eternal truth of poetic art and i agination is e0pressed in his Ede to a 1recian *rn) 72eauty is truth, truth beauty " that is all 3ou now on earth, and all ye need to now8)

B=
The Grecian urn 3 the per anence of art$ the urn cele"rates the power of the artist to i ortali4e hu an activity (art). The "eauty of art is seeing the real truth of e0istence. The creative process is evolution fro perception to thought. Ieats lu0uriated in his sensations. Dor hi "oth love and poetry are a trance of the senses and his i agery is constantly trudged with an erotic strain. ;e is not &eenly interested in social @uestions. Ieats felt no need to -ustify his poetry (as other ro antics did) he was the forerunner of the doctrine of $rt for $rt>s #a e. ;e was convinced that the poet ust serve for al "eauty not God of a purpose (as opposed to 2.'s opinion). !n his early years Ieats was influenced "y Spenser's poetry his poetic inspiration ca e fro poetry itself the idea of creating "eauty such as Spenser's* his approach to poetry ensured that of an artist and crafts an* not of a teacher* prophet or refor er (in contrast to 2.'s ideas). 2hat Ieats sought in poetry was "eauty of language* of i agery and description. %ut for hi "eauty was not the supre e good to which all other values ust "e sacrificed (as it was for the later school of $rt for $rt>s #a e). I aginati)n/ 7& am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart>s affections and the truth of &magination " what the &magination sei+es must be truth)8 (Ieats in a letter) #i&e ost of the ro antics* Ieats accepted the idea of he i agination as the essential creative faculty and an instru ent of &nowledge in itself. Dor hi the greatest achieve ent was what he called negati3e 'a-a9ility 7when a man is capable of uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason8 capa"le of a"sor"ing and reflecting everything* foul or fair* ean or elevated* si ply as it was* without twisting it into a syste . 9ne of his ideas of poetry* said in a letter* is that 7Fif poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, it had better not come at all)8 ore or less this is the typical attitude of the ro antics as a whole. So* we have al ost auto atic writing ? crafts anship though they see reconciled in Ieats's practice. contradictory they were

Ieats did not "elieve that poetry could "e co posed "y rules "ut he did "elieve that a poet could so train hi self that the rules would "egin to wor& auto atically. ;e hoped to develop his poetry "y developing hi self* "y going to different places and e0periencing things in nature* not -ust sitting a ong "oo&s. Ieats strained after the principle of beauty in all things, "ut unli&e Shelley* for Ieats* with his sensuous ind* "eauty was inherent in the o"-ect itself* a definite reality and not therefore unattaina"le. Dor hi "eauty resided in all things* "oth in pain and in pleasure* and conversely pain was inherent in "eauty the idea of the Ede to (elancholy) Deat(F( -)eti' -);er/ his creative use of language, the "oldness with which he invents new for s and new eanings or uses. The idea in his poe s that Fature is the poet's great inspirer and that her influence can "e felt in the wor& that results. Dor that reason Ieats undertoo& his tour to the ;ighlands when he returned fro there we find in his 'yperion a feeling of ountainous grandeur. This is closer to 2ordsworth's pantheis "ut it is reduced to a ore realistic level does not necessarily include the active participation of Fature in the process (as with 2.). This is not real pantheis his apostrophes to Fature (e.g. the oon) are only etaphorical* it is "eauty that he deified 3 the idea of "eauty of Fature.

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Endymion written in the !sle of 2ight the need of as inspiration. ore inspiring surroundings (v(s #ondon) nature

The poe is "ased on an old Gree& yth, for Ieats this yth was a sy "ol of the poet's longing for "eauty. The search for the ideal leads /ndy ion away fro hu anity at first (he tries to plunge hi self in "eautiful things* in nature* then in art) "ut it is when he turns aside fro all this to help Glaucus that his @uest is said to close Endymion represents a certain revolt against the ro antic yearnings for the infinite in the solution it offers* though not in its su"-ects. (he finally reali4es that his ideal and his "eloved are one). Ieats's creed appears rather in his lyrical poetry* not the narrative one* in his sonnets and odes. Ede to (elancholy: the idea of the close connection "etween pain and "eauty "eauty is "orn out of the elancholic strain* "eauty for hi is a &ind of ecstatic pain (li&e love). !t is a"ove all in his i agery that we recogni4e Ieats, return to the classical ythology of the /li4a"ethans and )ilton which to the #a&e school had "een anathe a since it was "oth conventional and unnatural (not part of the ideal real language of en). Classical ythology appealed to Ieats "ecause of its concreteness and "ecause it opened the door to a rich world of "eauty. Ieats's poetry is full of sensuous i ages (of taste* sight* touch). Oet* though the sensuous strain is there* it is never the only* or even* the do inant one the spiritual* ethereal plane is there too and it is present as the ulti ate truth. !t is the sensuous strain that lends vigor to his sense of "eauty and &eeps it close to real e0perience. !n Ede to (elancholy Ieats ta&es as his sy "ol of "eauty the rich e0u"erance of the peony* not the delicate flowers of spring "ut that which with its "ig si4e* its opulence and deep glowing colour "est e "odies the richness of su er. Ede to a Dightingale " repeats the sa e the e, the sadness is lin&ed with "eauty. !t is a pure e otion* not a direct state ent as in the previous ode, 0 0 0 0 the "eauty of the "ird's song* the very sense of happiness it inspires is trans uted to pain$ the "ird is the sy "ol of "eauty* of -oy* of ro ance* of the 7 fairy lands forlorn8 of the i agination$ the poet longs to participate in the "ird's world of "eauty* first through the into0ication of wine* then on the wings of poetry nut at its very height the ecstasy e""s suddenly away$ the whole runs through a variety of e otions rising and sin&ing* and rising again* till each stan4a see s to have reached the very su it* only to "e out>topped "y the ne0t$ the central stan4a the o ent of co plete a"sorption into the "eauty of nature "ut it is only a o ent* then the thought of death sets in.

Ieats e0presses his e otional conviction that the "eauty of the "ird's song was inco pati"le with the thought of death such "eauty cannot die. The song is i ortal whatever ay happen to the "ird$ the song 3 art. Ede to a 1recian *rn " the idea of identity and truth and "eauty$ "eauty is the great a"stract principle of %eauty in all things. 2hat Ieats tries to say is that the urn is so "eautiful and that convinces hi of the actuality of what it depicts that he is "rought ho e to his a0i , "eauty is truth and is ade to feel that it is the only thing that atters. The i portant part of the ode is the reverie, Ieats has sun& hi self so co pletely in his reverie around the figures on the vase that he cannot dis"elief his truth. +espite the "eauty and the happiness there is so e sorrow present, nothing can ever ar the happiness of the i aginary lovers (on the vase)* yet* they cannot ever &now the highest ecstasy. The elancholy runs through ost of the odes.

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9f all the ro antics it was Ieats who was to have the deepest effect on the ne0t generation of poets Tennyson* %rowning and the :re>Raphaelists. !t is Ieats* with his ore concrete* sensuous vision who for s the "ridge "etween ro anticis proper and Kictorian ro anticis of id and later 1= th century. Reality@ art an. 9ea*ty in Deat(F -)e ( Ieats rarely co es to any conclusions in his poetry so ething which is at the heart of his doctrine of negati3e 'a-a9ility6 This does not ean that his poe s are open>ended, they reveal a pattern which is vital for understanding Ieats. The -attern/ a procedure of su"-ect eeting o"-ect in this process of eeting the fact (the su"-ect) is see&ing upon a union with the ideal. The ideal 3 a"sorption of the e4periencing self into the essence through the intensity of sensory encounter and the grace of i agination the result, the o"-ect* a piece of art (the urn) or a piece of nature (the nightingale)* reveals an ulti ate reality* so e true "eauty. The dichoto y actual reality E "eauty is well developed in the Ede to a Dightingale and Ede on (elancholy) Ede to a Dightingale " a gap "etween the ideal world of the "ird and a gri 0 0 0 vision of reality.

the poet is una"le to e0clude the real world$ in the conte0t of actual decay* the "ird's song stands for so e &ind of "eauty. The "ird's song is heard all through the centuries* 7by emperors and clowns8 a sense of eternity 3 i ortality$ the poet is hauled "ac& fro e pathy (with the o"-ect* the "ird's song) "y the prison of his own hu anity the poet's ortality doo s hi to a world of sorrow.

Ede on (elancholy " reconciling the two worlds, ideal and real* thus showing that they are integrated and wholly necessary to each other. !n its conclusion* "eauty e0ists and ust "e aspired to. Ede to a 1recian *rn " again the pattern of e pathy with a piece of artistic "eauty. 0 0 the urn, contains the wisdo of the ages eternity in it$ art teaches "eyond the e otions to so ething i personal and a"solute the ti eless* ulti ate true reality is attaina"le through art.

2ith Ieats* truth is another na e for ultimate reality discovered "y the i agination with its insights into the nature of things. !nstead of discovering of facts through reason we have a discovery of "eauty through the i agination. Deat(ean i aginati)n/ an insight so fine that it sees what is concealed fro other en and understands things in their full 3 it sees the ulti ate truth. .rt a&es i ortal o ents of happiness (e.g. the trou"adour and his "eloved).