e
common measure of great authors, of Bacon, Milton, Tasso, Cervantes,
we might leave the fact in the twilight of human fate: but, that this
man of men, he who gave to the science of mind a new and larger
subject than had ever existed, and planted the standard of humanity
some furlongs forward into Chaos,--that he should not be wise for
himself,--it must even go into the world's history, that the best poet
led an obscure and profane life, using his genius for the public
amusement.

Well, other men, priest and prophet, Israelite, German, and Swede,
beheld the same objects: they also saw through them that which was
contained. And to what purpose? The beauty straightway vanished; they
read commandments, all-excluding mountainous duty; an obligation, a
sadness, as of piled mountains, fell on them, and life became ghastly,
joyless, a pilgrim's progress, a probation, beleaguered round with
doleful histories of Adam's fall and curse, behind us; with doomsdays
and purgatorial and penal fires before us; and the heart of the seer
and the heart of the listener sank in them.

It must be conceded that these are half-views of half-men. The world
still wants its poet-priest, a reconciler, who shall not trifle with
Shakespeare the player, nor shall grope in graves with Swedenborg the
mourner; but who shall see, speak, and act, with equal inspiration.
For knowledge will brighten the sunshine; right is more beautiful than
private affection; and love is compatible with universal wisdom.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

1819-1891

WORDSWORTH (1875)

A generation has now passed away since Wordsworth was laid with the
family in the churchyard at Grasmere. Perhaps it is hardly yet time to
take a perfectly impartial measure of his value as a poet. To do this
is especially hard for those who are old enough to remember the last
shot which the foe was sullenly firing in that long war of critics
which began when he published his manifesto as Pretender, and which
came to a pause rather than end when they flung up their caps with the
rest at his final coronation. Something of the intensity of the _odium
theologicum_ (if indeed the _aestheticum_ be not in these days the
more bitter of the two) entered into the conflict. The Wordsworthians
were a sect, who, if they had the enthusiasm, had also not a little of
the exclusiveness and partiality to which sects are liable. The verses
of the master had for them the virtue of religious canticles stimul