has so passionately, so nobly loved; poetry where emotion counts for so much, but where reason, too, reason, measure, sanity, also count for so much-the Celt has shown genius, indeed, splendid genius; but even here his faults have clung to him, and have hindered him from producing great works such as other nations with a genius for poetry-the Greeks, say, or the Italians -have produced. The Celt has not produced great poetical works, he has only produced poetry with an air of greatness investing it all, and sometimes giving, moreover, to short pieces, or to passages, lines, and snatches of long pieces, singular beauty and power. And yet he loved poetry so much that he grudged no pains to it; but the true art, the architectonicé which shapes great works, such as the Agamemnon or the Divine Comedy comes only after a steady, deepsearching survey, a firm conception of the facts of human life, which the Celt has not patience for. So he runs off into technic, where he employs the utmost elaboration, and attains astonishing skill; but in the contents of his poetry you have only so much interpretation of the world as the first dash of a quick, strong perception, and then sentiment, infinite sentiment, can bring you. Here, too, his want of sanity and steadfastness has kept the Celt back from the highest success. If his rebellion against fact has thus lamed the Celt even in spiritual work, how much more must it have lamed him in the world of business and politics! The skilful and resolute appliance of means to ends which is needed both to make progress in material civilisation, and also to form powerful states, is just what the Celt has least turn for. He is sensual, or at least sensuous; loves bright colours, company, and pleasure; and here he is like the Greek and Latin races. But compare the talent the Greek and Latin (or Latinised) races have shown for gratifying their senses, for procuring an outward life rich, luxurious, splendid, with the Celt's failure to reach any material civilisation sound and satisfying, and not out at elbows, poor, slovenly, and half-barbarous. The sensuousness of the Greek made Sybaris and Corinth, the sensuousness of the Latin made Rome and Baiæ, the sensuousness of the Latinised Frenchman makes Paris; the sensuousness of the Celt proper has made Ireland. Even in his ideal heroic times, his gay and sensuous nature cannot carry him, in the appliances of his favourite life of sociability and pleasure, beyond the gross and creeping Saxon whom he despises; the regent Breas, we are told in the Battle of Moytura of the Fomorians, became unpopular because the knives of his people were not greased at his table, nor did their breath smell of ale at the banquet.' In its grossness and barbarousness is not that Saxon, as Saxon as it can be? -just what the Latinised Norman, sensuous and sociable like the Celt, but with the talent to make this bent of his serve to a practical embellishment of his mode of living, found so disgusting in the Saxon. And as in material civilisation he has been ineffectual, so has the Celt been ineffectual in politics. This colossal, impetuous, adventurous wanderer, the Titan of the early world, who in primitive times fills so large a place on earth's scene, dwindles and dwindles as history goes on, and at last is shrunk to what we now see him. For ages and ages the world has been constantly slipping, ever more and more, out of the Celt's grasp. They went forth to the war,' Ossian says most truly, but they always fell.' (From A Study of Celtic Literature.) 6 Philistines and Barbarians. The same desire for clearness, which has led me thus to extend a little my first analysis of the three great classes of English society, prompts me also to make my nomenclature for them a little fuller, with a view to making it thereby more clear and manageable. It is awkward and tiresome to be always saying the aristocratic class, the middle-class, the working-class. For the middle-class, for that great body which, as we know, 'has done all the great things that have been done in all departments,' and which is to be conceived as chiefly moving between its two cardinal points of Mr Bazley and the Rev. W. Cattle, but inclining, in the mass, rather towards the latter than the former-for this class we have a designation which now has become pretty well known, and which we may as well still keep for them, the designation of Philistines. What this term means I have so often explained that I need not repeat it here. For the aristocratic class, conceived mainly as a body moving between the two cardinal points of Lord Elcho and Sir Thomas Bateson, but as a whole nearer to the latter than the former, we have as yet got no special designation. Almost all my attention has naturally been concentrated on my own class, the middle-class, with which I am in closest sympathy, and which has been, besides, the great power of our day, and has had its praises sung by all speakers and newspapers. Still, the aristocratic class is so important in itself, and the weighty functions which Mr Carlyle proposes at the present critical time to commit to it must add so much to its importance, that it seems neglectful, and a strong instance of that want of coherent philosophic method for which Mr Frederic Harrison blames me, to leave the aristocratic class so much without notice and denomination. It may be thought that the characteristic which I have occasionally mentioned as proper to aristocracies-their natural inaccessibility, as children of the established fact, to ideas-points to our extending to this class also the designation of Philistines; the Philistine being, as is well known, the enemy of the children of light, or servants of the idea. Nevertheless, there seems to be an inconvenience in thus giving one and the same designation to two very different classes; and besides, if we look into the thing closely, we shall find that the term Philistine conveys a sense which makes it more peculiarly appropriate to our middle-class than to our aristocratic. For Philistine gives the notion of something particularly stiff-necked and perverse in the resistance to light and its children, and therein it specially suits our middle-class, who not only do not pursue sweetness and light, but who prefer to them that sort of machinery of business, chapels, tea meetings, and addresses from Mr Murphy and the Rev. W. Cattle, which makes up the dismal and illiberal life on which I have so often touched. But the aristocratic class has actually, as we have seen, in its well-known politeness, a kind of image or shadow of sweetness; and as for light, if it does not pursue light, it is not that it perversely cherishes some dismal and illiberal existence in preference to light, but it is seduced from following light by those mighty and eternal seducers of our race which weave for this class their most irresistible charms-by worldly splendour, security, power and pleasure. These seducers are exterior goods, but they are goods; and he who is hindered by them from caring for light and ideas is not so much doing what is perverse as what is natural. Keeping this in view, I have in my own mind often indulged myself with the fancy of putting side by side with the idea of our aristocratic class, the idea of the Barbarians. The Barbarians, to whom we all owe so much, and who reinvigorated and renewed our worn-out Europe, had, as is well known, eminent merits; and in this country, where we are for the most part sprung from the Barbarians, we have never had the prejudice against them which prevails among the races of Latin origin. The Barbarians brought with them that staunch individualism, as the modern phrase is, and that passion for doing as one likes, for the assertion of personal liberty, which appears to Mr Bright the central idea of English life, and of which we have, at any rate, a very rich supply. The stronghold and natural seat of this passion was in the nobles of whom our aristocratic class are the inheritors; and this class, accordingly, have signally manifested it, and have done much by their example to recommend it to the body of the nation, who already, indeed, had it in their blood. The Barbarians, again, had the passion for field-sports; and they have handed it on to our aristocratic class, who of this passion too, as of the passion for asserting one's personal liberty, are the great natural stronghold. The care of the Barbarians for the body, and for all manly exercises; the vigour, good looks, and fine complexion which they acquired and perpetuated in their families by these means-all this may be observed still in our aristocratic class. The chivalry of the Barbarians, with its characteristics of high spirit, choice manners, and distinguished bearing-what is this but the beautiful commencement of the politeness of our aristocratic class? In some Barbarian noble, no doubt, one would have admired, if one could have been then alive to see it, the rudiments of Lord Elcho. Only, all this culture (to call it by that name) of the Barbarians was an exterior culture mainly: it consisted principally in outward gifts and graces, in looks, manners, accomplishments, prowess; the chief inward gifts which had part in it were the most exterior, so to speak, of inward gifts, those which come nearest to outward ones: they were courage, a high spirit, self-confidence. within, and unawakened, lay a whole range of powers of thought and feeling, to which these interesting productions of nature had, from the circumstances of their life, no access. Making allowances for the difference of the times, surely we can observe precisely the same thing now in our aristocratic class. In general its culture is exterior chiefly; all the exterior graces and accomplishments, and the more external of the inward virtues, seem to be principally its portion. It now, of course, cannot but be often in contact with those studies by which, from the world of thought and feeling, true culture teaches us to fetch sweetness and light; but its hold upon these very studies appears remarkably external, and unable to exert any deep power upon its spirit. Therefore the one insufficiency which we noted in the perfect mean of this class, Lord Elcho, was an insufficiency of light. And owing to the same causes, does not a subtle criticism lead us to make, even on the good looks and politeness of our aristocratic class, the one qualifying remark, that in these charming gifts there should perhaps be, for ideal perfection, a shade more soul? Far I often, therefore, when I want to distinguish clearly the aristocratic class from the Philistines proper, or middle-class, name the former, in my own mind, the Barbarians; and when I go through the country, and see this and that beautiful and imposing seat of theirs crowning the landscape, 'There,' I say to myself, 'is a great fortified post of the Barbarians.' (From Culture and Anarchy.) There is an elaborate bibliography of Matthew Arnold's works by Mr T. Burnett Smart (1892), and several selections have been issued. Two volumes of his Letters were edited by Mr G. W. E. Russell in 1895; and a volume of extracts from his Note-books, with a Preface by Mrs Wodehouse, was published in 1902. There are books on him by Professor Saintsbury (1899) and by Mr Herbert W. Paul (1902); and essays in Sir Leslie Stephen's Studies of a Biographer (1898), in Mr L. E. Gates's Three Studies in Literature (1899), in Mr Frederic Harrison's Tennyson, Ruskin, Mill, and other Literary Estimates (1900), and in Mr W. H. Hudson's Studies in Interpretation (New York, 1896). EDWARD DOWDEN. Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-95) was born at Greenwich Hospital, of which his father was secretary and civil commissioner. Educated at several private schools, he proved no very apt scholar, and in 1837 was placed in a Mincing Lane office; in 1841 he got a clerkship at Somerset House, and in 1842 a still more congenial post at the Admiralty. About this time he developed a faculty for making verses, somewhat after the manner of Praed; but it was not till, after his first marriage, he had quitted official life that he made his name widely known as a writer of unusually bright and clever vers de société by his London Lyrics (1857), collected from the various papers in which they had appeared. This volume had before the end of the century been reprinted in Britain and America nearly a score of times, some of the editions having illustrations by Richard Doyle, George Cruikshank, and others. It was supplemented by more London Lyrics in 1881 and by London Rhymes in 1882, both series privately printed. The Rowfant Club in Cleveland, Ohio, U.S., published a volume of his later verses, called Rowfant Rhymes, in 1895, with a Preface by Mr Austin Dobson. Mr Locker-Lampson published also two anthologies-Lyra Elegantiarum (1867), described as 'a collection of some of the best social and occasional verse of deceased English authors,' and Patchwork (1879), a book of extracts. In 1850 he married a daughter of the seventh Earl of Elgin, who died in 1872; and in 1874 the daughter of Sir Curtis Lampson, an American who settled in England as a director of the Atlantic Telegraph Company. After his second marriage he lived mainly at his father-in-law's house of Rowfant, near East Grinstead in Sussex, where he collected a famous library of Elizabethan and other rare books; and in 1885 he added the name of Lampson to his own. My Confidences (1896) is autobiographical. To my Grandmother.-Suggested by a Picture by Under the elm a rustic seat This Relative of mine, Was she seventy-and-nine With her needles would she sit, And for hours would she knitWould she not? Ah perishable clay ! Her charms had dropt away But if she heaved a sigh In travail, as in tears, In mercy she was borne O if you now are there, This nether world agrees At her Window. Let Psyche who ranges The garden of spring, Remember the changes December will bring. Beating Heart! we come again Is she nested? Does she kneel Soon the wan, the wistful stars, If she hear me will she heed? Zoned in bride's apparel; Sing thy song thou tranced thrush, Pipe thy best, thy clearest ;Hush, her lattice moves, O hush Dearest Mabel!-dearest ... See Locker-Lampson's My Confidences (1896), edited by his sonin-law, Mr Augustine Birrell, who married his daughter by the first marriage, Lionel Tennyson's widow; and the article by Mr Austin Dobson in the supplement to the Dictionary of National Biography (1901). Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore (1823-96) was born at Woodford in Essex, the son of Peter George Patmore, who edited the Court Journal, 'read' for a publisher, contributed largely to the magazines, and wrote, besides other books, My Friends and Acquaintances (1854), three volumes of literary reminiscences. The boy, educated privately, had thoughts of taking orders, but naturally drifted into literary work, and in his twenty-first year published a volume of narrative poems (1844) which were not too kindly received. Though bought up and destroyed ere a hundred and fifty copies had been sold, this publication secured for him the acquaintance of Rossetti, Woolner, and the pre-Raphaelites. In 1846, through the friendly offices of Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton), he obtained an appointment as an assistant librarian in the British Museum; and when he retired from the Museum in 1865, was within measurable distance of the headship in his department. He wrote for the Edinburgh Review, the North British, and other serials; contributed in 1850 two poems and a prose essay to the pre-Raphaelite Germ; and in 1853 ventured once more to publish a volume of poems, Tamerton Church Tower, which contained revised versions of some of those that had first appeared in 1844, and shows traces of the mysticism which bulked so largely in his later work. The acceptance this volume met with encouraged him to publish, but anonymously, in 1854 and 1856 (as The Bethrothal and The Espousals), the first two sections of what is, under the name of The Angel in the House, by far his best-known poem, to which were added in 1860 and 1863 Faithful for Ever and The Victories of Love. In virtue of its sincere, tender, and exquisite presentation of holy domestic love, the Angel in the House was greeted with enthusiasm by the poet's friends, Tennyson, Ruskin, Browning, and COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE. From a Photograph by Barrauds. Carlyle, and secured immediate and unusual popularity with the great public. It was largely inspired by Patmore's beautiful and accomplished first wife, daughter of a Congregational minister, whom he married in 1847, and who died in 1862. Two years later Patmore entered the Roman Catholic communion, and was followed by his three sons and three daughters; in 1865 he married a second time, and erelong bought an estate near Uckfield in Sussex, which he so improved as to be able to sell it for £27,000. Then he settled at Hastings, where, after the death of his second wife in 1880, he built a splendid Roman Catholic church. The home of his last years was at Lymington. He had married a third time in 1881. The Unknown Eros, and other Odes (1877), was a collection of upwards of forty odes combining Catholic mysticism and fervent devotion, which in their elaborate rhythms sharply contrasted with the simple verse of the Angel. With Ameiia (1878), a perfect little idyl, was published a profound and suggestive 'Study of English Metrical Law. Principle in Art (1889) and Religio Poeta (1893) are collections of essays and other contributions to journals and reviews; The Rod, the Root, and the Flower (1895) contains apophthegms and meditations, many of them exceptionally profound and searching, all of them admirably worded, on the religious truths nearest the poet's heart. Patmore's work, at once powerful and graceful, suffered from his inability to criticise and prune what he had written. The narrative poems are, as narratives, tedious; the Angel in the House would have had more vitality but for its longueurs. But there and in all his work there are subtle and suggestive thoughts exquisitely uttered, pictures of wonderful fascination, emotions in words perfectly framed and fitted to touch the deepest chords of human hearts. In his character Patmore was neither the merely amiable paterfamilias of the Angel nor the meek mystic of the Unknown Eros, but an energetic, masterful, self-assertive, and combative personality, cherishing and defending many strong preiudices, and as a Roman Catholic by no means disposed to unhesitating obedience. His interests were many, but his sympathies, literary and other, far from wide. In a Wood. 'Twas when the spousal time of May Hangs all the hedge with bridal wreaths. And air's so sweet the bosom gay Gives thanks for every breath it breathes. When like to like is gladly moved, And each thing joins in Spring's refrain, Beneath the softly twinkling shade. So these were green and those were gold; In dim recesses hyacinths droop'd, And breadths of primrose lit the air, And careless songsters, six or seven, (From The Angel in the House.) What are they till they beat Against the sleepy sod, and there beget Is the One found, Amongst a wilderness of as happy grace, The crocus, while the days are dark, Unfolds its saffron sheen; At April's touch, the crudest bark Discovers gems of green. Then sleep the seasons, full of might; And rounds the peach, and in the night The Winter falls; the frozen rut The snow-drift heaps against the hut, And night is pierc'd with stars. In 1862 Patmore edited, with his first wife's help, the anthology called The Children's Garland; in 1877 he edited and largely supplemented his friend B. W. Procter's Autobiography (page 227), and in 1884 edited the poems of his own son, Henry John Patmore (1860-83). Florilegium Amantis (1888) was a selection from his poems by Dr R. Garnett; Poems of Pathos and Delight was another (1895), by Mrs Meynell. In 1900 Mr Basil Champneys, who designed the memorial church at Brighton, published a Life of Patmore in two volumes. Sydney Thompson Dobell (1824-74) was born at Cranford in Kent, whence his father, a wine-merchant, removed that same year to London, and in 1835 to Cheltenham; with Gloucestershire and with his father's business Sydney's whole after-life was connected. Under the influence of a sect of 'Freethinking Christians' founded by Samuel Thompson, his maternal grandfather, he developed a hothouse precocity, and at fifteen became engaged to the girl whom he married at twenty. He never quite recovered from a severe illness (1847); and the chief events of his life were visits to Switzerland, Scotland, Cannes, Spain, and Italy, in quest of health for himself or his wife. He died at Barton End House, among the Cotswold Hills. His principal works are The Roman, a dramatic poem by 'Sydney Yendys' (1850); Balder, Part the First (1854); Sonnets on the War, written in conjunction with Alexander Smith (1855); and England in Time of War (1856). The first and the last had a success to wonder at. For though some of his lyrics are pretty, though his fancy is sparkling and exuberant, his poems are often superfine, grandiose, transcendental; and save to unusually sympathetic readers, it seems that 'spasmodic' or some equivalent epithet does hit them off better than comparison either with Shelley or with Donne. The Ruins of Ancient Rome. Upstood The hoar unconscious walls, bisson and bare, Wore out the stone, strange hermit birds croaked forth And lying, through the chant of psalm and creed, Rank weeds and grasses, Careless and nodding, grew, and asked no leave, (From The Roman.) The Mystery of Beauty. Is precious for its essence; time and space |