itherto, we have met with little that
can be called romantic in the narrowest sense. Though the literary
movement had already begun to take a retrospective turn, few distinctly
mediaeval elements were yet in evidence. Neither the literature of the
monk nor the literature of the knight had suffered resurrection. It was
not until about 1760 that writers began to gravitate decidedly toward the
Middle Ages. The first peculiarly mediaeval type that contrived to
secure a foothold in eighteenth-century literature was the hermit, a
figure which seems to have had a natural attraction, not only for
romanticizing poets like Shenstone and Collins, but for the whole
generation of verse writers from Parnell to Goldsmith, Percy and
Beattie--each of whom composed a "Hermit"--and even for the authors of
"Rasselas" and "Tom Jones," in whose fictions he becomes a stock
character, as a fountain of wisdom and of moral precepts.[1]

A literary movement which reverts to the past for its inspiration is
necessarily also a learned movement. Antiquarian scholarship must lead
the way. The picture of an extinct society has to be pieced together
from the fragments at hand, and this involves special research. So long
as this special knowledge remains the exclusive possession of
professional antiquaries like Gough, Hearne, Bentham, Perry, Grose,[2] it
bears no fruit in creative literature. It produces only local histories,
surveys of cathedrals and of sepulchral monuments, books about Druidic
remains, Roman walls and coins, etc., etc. It was only when men of
imagination and of elegant tastes were enlisted in such pursuits that the
dry stick of antiquarianism put forth blossoms. The poets, of course,
had to make studies of their own, to decipher manuscripts, learn Old
English, visit ruins, collect ballads and ancient armor, familiarize
themselves with terms of heraldry, architecture, chivalry, ecclesiology
and feudal law, and in other such ways inform and stimulate their
imaginations. It was many years before the joint labors of scholars and
poets had reconstructed an image of medieval society, sharp enough in
outline and brilliant enough in color to impress itself upon the general
public. Scott, indeed, was the first to popularize romance; mainly, no
doubt, because of the greater power and fervor of his imagination; but
also, in part, because an ampler store of materials had been already
accumulated when he began work. He had fed on Percy'