dly in the broadest and the highest acceptation of the
term. They represent, in its perfect expression, the spirit of this
world--its greatness, its splendour, its intensity, the human drama that
animates it, the ordered beauty towards which it tends. For that was an
age in which the world, in all the plenitude of its brilliance, had come
into its own, when the sombre spirituality of the Middle Ages had been
at last forgotten, when the literatures of Greece and Rome had delivered
their benignant message, when civilization could enjoy for a space its
new maturity, before a larger vision had brought questionings, and an
inward vision aspirations unknown before. The literature of those days
was founded upon a general acceptance--acceptance both in the sphere of
politics and of philosophy. It took for granted a fixed and autocratic
society; it silently assumed the orthodox teaching of the Roman Catholic
Church. Thus, compared with the literature of the eighteenth century, it
was unspeculative; compared with that of the Middle Ages, unspiritual.
It was devoid of that perception of the marvellous and awful
significance of Natural phenomena which dominates the literature of the
Romantic Revival. Fate, Eternity, Nature, the destiny of Man, 'the
prophetic soul of the wide world dreaming on things to come'--such
mysteries it almost absolutely ignored. Even Death seemed to lie a
little beyond its vision. What a difference, in this respect, between
the literature of Louis XIV and the literature of Elizabeth! The latter
is obsessed by the smell of mortality; its imagination, penetrating to
the depths and the heights, shows us mankind adrift amid eternities, and
the whole universe the doubtful shadow of a dream. In the former, these
magnificent obscurities find no place: they have been shut out, as it
were, like a night of storm and darkness on the other side of the
window. The night is there, no doubt; but it is outside, invisible and
neglected, while within, the candles are lighted, the company is
gathered together, and all is warmth and brilliance. To eyes which have
grown accustomed to the elemental conflicts without, the room may seem
at first confined, artificial, and insignificant. But let us wait a
little! Gradually we shall come to feel the charm of the well-ordered
chamber, to appreciate the beauty of the decorations, the distinction
and the penetration of the talk. And, if we persevere, that is not all
we shall discover. We