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ADVENTURES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE
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:-lG JOHN SEALING THE MAGNA CARTA by Ernest Xor- mand. A stirring theme in both the history and literature of England is the struggle lor indi-idual liberty. The signing of the Magna Carta by King John in 1215 marked the first great Wctory in that struggle. Ernest Normand (1S57-1923) was a distinguished painter of historical subjects. (Art Education, Inc., X. Y.)
Ajn iloA/ltiVVL REWEY BELLE INGLIS FORMERLY UNIVERSITY HIGH SCHOOL MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA AJ-iIVjUj l^JliV^lJ-jlA l^vjljr ll/rV SAN FRANCISCO JUNIOR COLLEGE SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA CELIA OPPENHEIMER WILLIAM ROSE BENET WOODROW WILSON HIGH SCHOOL WASHINGTON, D.C. THE SATURDAY REVIEW OF LITERATURE NEW YORK CITY FOURTH -t y-4 Q EDITION ISlew York HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY Chicago
U PREFACE 3. The novel is more adequately presented than before, with unit selections from major novels by Scott, Dickens, and Thackeray. Twentieth-century novelists are still represented by complete short stories or plays, but their importance in the develop- ment of the longer fictional form is emphasized in the chapter on the English novel, to which many recent titles have been added. 4. Several changes have been made in content and organization in order to facil- itate the presentation of the work of major authors, both past and present. The works of each of these have been placed together instead of being scattered among vari- ous type areas. Discussions of their literary standing — previously appearing in the introductory chapter to each period —have been combined with the biographical sketches into a unified introduction immediately preceding the selections. Thus the student is saved the confusion of piecing together the various parts in order to obtain the total picture. The chapters introducing each period now explain the general historical and so- cial trends, and sketch in the salient facts of English literary history against this background rather than characterize individual authors. In addition, the introductory chapters have been simplified by the omission of minor historical characters and events, and greater emphasis has been placed on social and cultural influences, lead- ing to a better understanding of the selections, 5. The pronunciation, as well as the meanings, of allusions and technical or for- eign words has been included in the footnotes. This should prove to be an effective timesaver for both student and teacher, since it eliminates the necessity for turning to the back of the book for essential information. 6. Editorial material and illustrative material have been revised throughout. Four new full-page drawings by Herbert Gute, a completely revised set of illustrated maps by George R. Bell, several new color plates, and many new photographs contribute greatly to the appearance of the book. The time charts, which classroom use has proved to be effective visual-teaching devices, have been retained and revised. All the reading and reference lists have been revised and new titles have been added. 7. In the suggestions for study, the caption " For Ambitious Students " no longer appears, since it was not always welcomed. The best of the questions that appeared under that heading have been retained, however, and it would be well for the teacher to remember that not all students should be expected to carry out all of the study suggestions. The more difficult or more specialized questions and problems are found toward the end of each set. 8. .All material that is handled in footnotes has been removed from the glossary, making the glossary' word list a more adequate basis for vocabulary building. It must be emphasized, however, that only the meaning pertinent to the selection in which the word appears is given in the glossary'. . regular dictionary should be consulted
PREFACE in for a rounded study of any individual word, or for clues to the meaning of the word in other contexts. With these many improvements, the editors believe that students and teachers alike will find deeper satisfaction and a richer reward in the hours spent in studying or teaching this volume. JNIay we remind you that Adventures in English Literature takes its place with the four other books in the Adventure Series to provide a flexible course for senior high-school English classes. The editors are grateful for the many valuable criticisms that have come both from teachers and from students, not only for the improvement of this edition, but also for the strengthening of the earlier editions on which this volume is based. More specific mention of their contribution is made in the " Acknowledgments." The Editors
iilimti BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC i Midnight on the Desert j. b. priestley ' i The River of Stars alfred noyes 5 My America john buchan 8 Britain and the Bombings allan ne'ins 13 Ue in the Darl^ and Listen noel coward ,/f8 Sea Fei/er john masefield f 19 The Seafarer (Anglo-Saxon poem) / 20 HERE IS ENGLAND ^— 23 THE ANGLO-SAXON AGE 27 Beoiftdf (^ THE PERIOD OF MIDDLE ENGLISH 49 *Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 64 E.'VRLY ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH BALLADS ']0 Bonnie George Campbell 70 Lord Randal 71 Kathrine Jaffray 72 Bonny Barbara Allan 73 Sir Patrick Spens 73 Get Up and Bar the Door 74 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 75 ^Prologue to The Canterbury Tales 77 Selection from the Prologue 86 *Nun's Priest's Tale of Chaunticleer and Pertelote 89 Complaint of Chaucer to His Empty Purse 94 SIR THOMAS ^LLORY 95 *Le Morte d'Arthur 95 * modernized
VI CONTENTS THE ELIZABETHAN AGE EDMUND SPENSER Selected Stanzas from The Faerie Queene CHRISTOPHER M.VRLOWE The Passionate Shepherd to His Love WALTER RALEIGH The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd WILLIAM SHAKESPE.ARE THE SONGS OF SHAKESPEARE Three Songs jrom The Tempest Under the Greenwood Tree Har, Har. the Lar}(^ O Mistress Mine Come Away, Death Who Is Sylvia? SONNETS l8. 29. 30, 65. 73. 116 MACBETH BEN JONSON To Celia Hymn to Diana The Noble Nature To the Memory of My Beloved Master William Shakespeare FRANCIS BACON Of Studies Of Revenge THE ENGLISH BIBLE Naaman the Leper (II Kings 5) The Ideal Wife (Proverbs ?/) The Prodigal Son (Lue /i) But the Greatest of These Is Charity (I Corinthians 75) Psalm 1, 121 Ecclesiastes 12
CONTENTS Vll PURITAN AND RESTORATION PERIOD 197 CAVALIER LYRICS GEORGE WITHER 2o8 Shall I, Wasting in Despair 208 ROBERT HERRICK 208 Counsel to Girls 209 SIR JOHN SUCKLING 2O9 The Constant Lover 209 Song from Aglaura 209 RICHARD LOVELACE 210 To Althea. from Prison . 210 To Lucasta, Going to the Wars 210 JOHN MILTON 21] LAllegro 213 II Penseroso 215 On His Having Arrived at the Age of Twenty-three 218 On Shal{espeare 218 On His Blindness 218 Paradise Lost (from Book I) 219 JOHN DRYDEN 226 Alexander's Feast, or The Power of Music 226 JOHN BUNYAN 229 The Pilgrim's Progress: Vanity Fair 230 SAMUEL PEPYS 235 Diary of Pepys 236 THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 243 THE AGE OF POPE 256 ALEXANDER POPE 256 The Rape of the Locl{ 257 Famous Quotations from Pope 7.6t, JONATHAN SWIFT 265 Gulliver's Travels: The Voyage to Lilliput 266 RICHARD STEELE 27 1 The Tatler: Prospectus 272
CONTENTS JOSEPH ADDISON 273 The spectator 274 Sir Roger at Church 274 Sir Roger at the Theater 276 The Coquette's Heart 278 Party Feeling 280 Hymn 282 DANIEL DEFOE 283 The Journal of the Plague Year 283 THE AGE OF JOHNSON 286 SAMUEL JOHNSON 286 Definitions from Johnson's Dictionary 288 Letter to Lord Chesterfield 288 JAMES BOSWELL 289 The Life of Samuel Johnson 289 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 295 The Deserted Village 295 Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog 302 FORERUNNERS OF ROMANTIC POETRY 302 THOMAS GRAY 302 Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard 303 WILLIAM COWPER 306 Light Shining out of Darl^ness 307 WILLIAM BLAKE 3O7 The Tiger 307 ROBERT BURNS 308 My Heart's in the Highlands 310 Sweet Afton 310 TheBans o' Doon 311 To Mary in Heaven 311 John Anderson, My Jo 312 Oh, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast 312 Bannocl{burn 312 A Man's a Man for a' That 313
CONTENTS IX ROBERT BURNS (cOnt'd) To a Mouse 313 To a Louse 314 The Cotter's Saturday Night 315 rHE ENGLISH NOVEL " 325 PHE AGE OF ROMANTICISM ' 335 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 343 Lines Written in Early Spring 344 The Tables Turned 344 To a Skylark^ {180$) 345 To a Skylark^ (-^^25) 345 She Was a Phantom of Delight 346 Westminster Bridge . 346 The World Is Too Much with Us 346 London (1802) 347 Scorn Not the Sonnet 347 Lines Composed a Few Miles aboue Tintern Abbey 348 My Heart Leaps Up 352 Intimations of Immortality 352 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 358 The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 359 Kubla Khan 375 CHARLES LAMB . 376 Dream Children 377 A Dissertation upon Roast Pig 379 WALTER SCOTT 384 Ketiilworth: Walter Raleigh Climbs to Knighthood 385 Proud Maisie 391 ]ocl{ o' Hazeldean 391 GEORGE GORDON, LORD B'iTlON 392 She Wall{s in Beauty 393 The Destruction of Sennacherib 393 Stanzas Written on the Road between Florence and Pisa 394 Sonnet on Chilian 395 The Prisoner of Chilian 395 Apostrophe to the Ocean 400
X, CONTENTS PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 402 To flight 403 The Cloud 403 To a SI{ylar 405 Ode to the West Wind 407 Ozymandias 410 When the Lamp Is Shattered 410 A hament 411 A Dirge 411 JOHN KEATS 412 On First Loo/{ing into Chapman's Homer 413 When I Haue Fears 413 The Mermaid Tavern 413 La Belle Dame Sans Merci 414 Ode on a Grecian Urn 415 Ode to a Nightingale 416 The Eve of St. Agnes 418 Bright Star 427 THREE FAMOUS POEMS 429 ROBERT SOUTHEY 429 The Battle of Blenheim 429 THOMAS MOORE 43O The Light of Other Days 430 THOMAS HOOD 43O The Song of the Shirt 431 THE VICTORIAN AGE 435 THOMAS CARLYLE 445 The French Revolution: The Fall of the Bastille 446 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 449 A History of England: 449 London Streets 450 London Coffeehouses 451 JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 454 The Educated Man 454 The Gentleman 455
CONTENTS XI THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY 45^ A Liberal Education 456 ALFRED TENNYSON 459 Flower in the Crannied Wall 4^ The Eagle 4"° The Bugle Song [. 4^ Tears, Idle Tears 4"i The Lady of Shalott 4^1 Ulysses 4^4 Loc^sley Hall: A Prophecy 4^5 Brea]{, Break,, Break, 4^5 In Memoriam: Proem; xxvii, liv, cvi 466 In the Valley of Cauteretz 4^ Crossing the Bar 4^^ ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 47° Sonnets from the Portuguese, i, w, xrv, xliii 471 ROBERT BROWNING 473 Song from Pippa Passes 473 Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along; Give a Rouse; Boot and Saddle 473 Home Thoughts, from the Sea 475 Home Thoughts, from Abroad 476 Memorabilia 47^ My Last Duchess 477 Up at a Villa — Down in the City 478 Love among the Ruins 480 Rabbi Ben Ezra 482 Prospice 4^5 CHARLES DICKENS 4^^ Pickwick Papers: Mr. Pickwick on the Ice 489 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 493 Vanity Fair: Becky Opens Her Campaign 494 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 5°^ The House of Life: The Sonnet, Silent Noon, Spring 506 The Sea Limits 508 The Woodspurge 5°^
XU CONTENTS CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI 509 A Birthday 509 Remember 509 ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 5O9 A Match 510 When the Hounds of Spring 511 FOUR FAMOUS POEMS 512 MATTHEW ARNOLD 512 Dover Beach 512 LEWIS CARROLL 513 A Sea Dirge 513 WILLIAM SCHWENK GILBERT 514 A Nightmare 514 WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY 516 Invictus 516 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 517 Requiem 518 My Wife 518 El Dorado 518 Marl{^heim /^2o THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 533 THOMAS HARDY 545 yTony Kytes, the Arch-Deceiver CS^ Weathers 551 Afterward 551 In Time of " The Breaking of Nations " 552 The Darling Thrush 552 RUDYARD KIPLING 553 jMiss Youghal's Sais (554~) Recessional 557 Tommy 557 Boots 558 The Explorer 559 The Ballad of East and West 561 L'Envoi 564
CONTENIS XUl GILBERT K. CHESTERTON Lepanto The Invisible Man TWENTIETH-CENTURY DRAMA JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE Riders to the Sea JOHN GALSWORTHY Strife JAMES M. BARRIE The Old Lady Shows Her Medals TWENTIETH-CENTURY SHORT STORIES 642 JOSEPH CONRAD ' 642 The Lagoon 643 H. G. WELLS 651 The Stolen Bacillus (^5^ ARNOLD BENNETT 656 VThe Silent Brothers (^^ SAKI (h. H. MUNRo) 665 The Open Window ^5 W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM ^f l The Verger (U.<;-;f~ 668 KATHERINE MANSFIELD 672 Miss Brill 672 TWENTIETH-CENTURY POETRY 676 ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN 676 Reveille &j6 Loveliest of Trees 677 When I Was One-and-Tii'enty 677 With Rue My Heart Is Laden 677 /;; Battle Smoke 677 WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 677 The Lake Isle of Innisfrec 678
Xiv CONTENTS WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS (cODt'd) The Fiddler of Dooney 6yS The Song of the Old Mother 679 An Irish Airman Foresees His Death 679 The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart 679 When You Are Old 679 Into the Twilight 679 WALTER DE LA MARE 68o Silver The Listeners Miss Loo Bunches of Grapes Nicholas Nye The Scarecrow JOHN MASEFIELD 683 A Consecration 683 Laugh and Be Merry 684 Dauber: Rounding the Horn 685 ALFRED NOYES 686 A Song of Sherwood 687 The Admiral's Ghost 689 The Barrel Organ FRANCIS THOMPSON To a Snowflakj; WILFRID WILSON GIBSON The Stone JAMES STEPHENS In Waste Places SIEGFRIED SASSOON Aftermath RUPERT BROOKE The Great Lover The Soldier HERBERT ASQUITH Youth in the SI{ies
CONTENTS XV W. H. AUDEN 701 The Un/^nown Citizen 702 STEPHEN SPENDER 702 The Express 703 The Landscape Near an Airdrome 703 Statistics 704 TWENTIETH CENTURY NON-FICTION PROSE ' 7O5 H. M. TOMLINSON 7O5 The Master 706 ALDOUS HUXLEY 708 Comfort 708 LYTTON STRACHEY 714 Queen Victoria's Accession 715 VIRGINIA WOOLF 721 Flush Meets His Rival 721 THOMAS BURKE 725 A Boy's Awakening 726 PHILIP GUEDALLA 733 Mr. Churchill's War 733 WINSTON CHURCHILL 738 The Miracle of Dun/{ir/^ 739 J. B. PRIESTLEY 744 A City Invincible 744
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC Although a vast ocean separates England and America, the two countries are bound together by their common literature. Tom Saver is as real to Englishmen as he is to Americans; and Americans enjoy Mr. Picltwick as lully as do the English themselves.
r^ THEadventures in fhi's volume wiJI take us across the ocean io a land in which manners and cis.om% are somewhat different from our own. They will also take us into the distant past and return us gradu- ally to the present. Too sudden a plunge into the more intensive part ot this study might leave us breathless: so let us build a bridge across the Atlantic by reading briefly some British ^vriters who are close to us in both time and place. All of these writers but one are living today, and all of them have known America from experience. We can thus start out on familiar ground, just as an airplane warms up on the runway before taking off into space. The first three writers here represented have known America intimately. They have not been merely casual visitors attempting to interpret our nation after a three weeks' stay, as British lecturers are sometimes re- puted to do. These men have traveled here extensively. They have brought their families for periods of residence. Here they have writ- ten and published books, and here they have worked at other chosen professions. They are important links between the English-speaking nations on both sides of the Atlantic; what they say about America is well worth reading. The Erst of these three is J. B. Priestley. He uses ;ust his initials — /. B. — so consistently that few of his readers could mention the names they stand for — John Boynton. In his twenties he sened in France throughout World War I and, while convalescing from wounds, published his first essays. Later at Cambridge he went into journalism seriously, and his life has been devoted to literature. He has written prolifically in almost every type. His novels and plavs are well known to the American public, but he is at his best in a book of obsen'ation and comment. His Eng- lish Journey is the truest picture we have of England in the 1930's. In Midnight on the Desert the scene is Arizona; and the com- ments are full of interest to Americans, whether he discusses football, Holh^vood, newspaper reporters, or the Grand Canyon. Let us read a hit from Chapter I of that book. Here the author not only gives us the " feel " of the desert but shows the power of imagina- tion to transport us into new surroundings — a power that we shall be using throughout our adventures in English hterature. MIDNIGHT ON THE DESERT J. B. PRIESTLEY Let me begin with what I can remember quite clearly. It was at the end of my stay on the ranch in Arizona, last winter. We were not leaving America yet, but we were leaving this ranch very soon and I had things to do. There was the usual accumu- lated litter of letters and odd papers to be gone through, and most of it destroyed. But that was not all. I had decided during the evening to burn certain chapters, many thousands of words, of the book I had been writing. I felt I must do this at once, for I am not a resolute man and do not trust my- self. (But I wish I knew which I really am, the one who distrusts or the one who is dis- trusted. There's the problem.) Yes, thou- sands and thousands of words would have to go, along with the rubbish; good words.
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC all arranged to make sound sense, and with a cash value in the market, and represent- ing, too. something more than money — time, precious and priceless time, of which, thev say, only so much is allotted to each of us. I dare not wait for morning. Midnight was the hour for such a deed. I left the patio, where we were housed, for the little hut that was my working place. I remember a particularly fine glitter of stars, with no moon and with the desert hills so much starless indigo at the base of the sky. A freight train was clanking down the valley. It gave that long, dissonant, mourn- ful cr' of .merican trains, that sound which seems to light up for a second the immense distances and loneliness of that country. I had to do some lighting up myself, with a torch, in order to pick my way past prickly pear and cholla and catclaw and other hook- ing and spiny growths, vindictive by day and devilish so late at night. The hut was in a little thicket. The sand between the curled dead leaves glittered in the light of my torch, and that would be the specks of fool's gold with which all these dry river beds and their banks are gilded. It looks much prettier than real gold. Someday per- haps it will be worth quite as much as real gold. An enormous silence had followed the train — an ironical silence, like that which comes at the end of some noisy epoch. They kept early hours at the ranch, except when there was a dance at El Recreo: and there was nobody stirring anywhere, and not a sound even from the coyotes. In the silence, slowly picking my way, I thought about this .Arizona country. The Xew World 1 It seemed to me the oldest country I have ever seen, the real antique land, first cousin to the moon. Brown, bony, sapless, like an old man's hand. We called it new because it was not thick with history, not a museum and guidebook place. Man had been here such a little time that his arrival had not yet been acknowledged. He was still some season's trifling accident, like a sudden abundance of coyotes or cottontails. The giant saguaro cactus, standing like a sentinel on every knoll, was not on the lookout for us, had not heard of us yet, still waited for tram- pling dinosaurs. There is no history here because history is too recent. This country is geology by day and astronomy at night. It offers a broad view of what is happening generally in the solar system, with no par- ticular reference to Man. But it has a mag- nificent routine. The early mornings, in winter, are cold, very fresh, and pure. Then, under the burning noons, the red cardinals and the bluebirds flash among the cotton- woods, as if nature had turned outrageously symbolic. The afternoons are simply so much sunlight and aromatic air. But at sun- set the land throws up pink summits and saw-toothed ridges of amethj'st, and there are miracles of fire in the sky. Night un- covers two million more stars than you have ever seen before: and the planets are not points, but globes. As I reached the door of my hut and switched off my torch, I looked up and noticed yet once again, with a shrinking sense of unfamiliarity, how all the constellations had been monstrously mis- placed. I was far from home. I was not homesick. That is bad: but there is an easy cure for it, if you have the freedom, the money, the passport. You go back to your own place, and all is well. But I was beginning to feel homeless, not homesick. I had spent all the autumn and the winter in America, and not as a lonely traveler, whose home life is going on some- where else, but mostly with my family. Thus I seemed to have detached myself from England. This was quite involuntary; it just happened. The island no longer ap- peared to be the center of the universe. The newspapers that came to me regularly from England now seemed to me as full of quaint fusses and snobberies as they must do to an American reader. Yet I had not had time to throw out any roots in America. Its life, so nervous and strident, so strange a mix- ture of kindness and cruelty, was still un- familiar. I was not part of the scene there. Nothing that happened really came home to me. I was deeply interested, but it was all none of my business. I read their newspapers
MIDNIGHT ON THE DESERT J. B. PRIESTLEY. Here is an Englishman who knows America almost as well as he knows England. Usually the American editions of his books outsell the English editions. (World Wide Photos) every morning — and they were black with crises — but none of their news was my news. I was temporarily a man without a country and a background. Not much harm in that — perhaps if the whole lot of us suddenly found ourselves without countries and backgrounds, there might be much good — but the sensation was new to me and I felt curiously withdrawn, into a dreamy emptiness. Perhaps it made for egoism. We shall see. The two naked electric bulbs in my hut sharply illuminated its tiny interior, no more than twelve feet by ten of unpainted boards —-with many a knothole in them, now velvety with night. There were the rough shelves with their litter of books, tins of tobacco, pipes, and letters I had never answered; the two small tables, one for my typewriter, the other for odds and ends; the straight little chair, too small in the seat, I used when t^^ping, and the arm- chair with its little square of red and black Indian rug; and the two other Indian rugs on the floor, the woven wastepaper basket. the box of firewood, and the small tin stove — only waiting for a match to be thrown in to shake and roar and be red-hot. Yes, and waiting for anything else I might give it, such as a folder or two of typescript. See- ing everything in there so clearly, all those familiar things of my working day, I felt apologetic. I had come to destroy, not to create; though such destnjction might be a better kind of creation. This hut was a witness to the admirable spirit of Western America, and p)erhaps of all these states. When I had first stayed £)n the ranch, the winter before, I had found it hard to work in my bedroom in the patio, where people were always moving about and calling to one another. What I needed was a little place of my own to work in, well away from the main ranch buildings. So as soon as I came back, for a longer stay, up went this shack, and within a day or two it had its book shelves, stove, and electric light. Nothing very wonderful about all this. It was easily erected, and of course I paid for it. But I feel that in any European coun-
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC try there would have been endless palavers and fusses, whole crops of difficulties raised, before one would have had a brand-new place to work in, if indeed one would have persisted in the face of a mountain of objec- tions. Here, in the Far West, it was done so casually and quickly. " You bet ! " they cried, and went ahead. Perhaps it is sheer space that makes the difference. What seems obvious and easy in the vast crystalline spaces of Arizona may well appear a tricky enterprise in shuttered Europe. This shack was built on the very edge of a river I had never yet seen, the Hassayampa, which only appears — as a sudden yellow flood — to- ward the end of summer. If you drink its waters, they say, you are forever afterward incapable of telling the truth. But the win- ter visitor does not even see them. This had been a good place to work in. I ask for noth- ing better. Sometimes in the mornings, be- fore the sun commanded the scene, it had been rather cold and cheerless; and often later in the mornings and during the blaz- ing afternoons it had been too warm, for there was only one layer of thin boards be- tween me and the weather. But it had been my own place, and quiet —except for an occasional bird that would come to the win- dow, knock with its beak, and stare at me as if we were meeting in Eden. The little hut had served me well. I had spent most of my time in there, writing a novel about London. With the door and the two windows wide open ; a thin curtain drawn to dull the bright shaft of sunlight; wearing nothing but a shirt, old flannel trousers, and slippers, I would sit in a sweet cloud of American tobacco smoke, peer through it at my script, and tap-tap away at my account of life in the rain and fog of London streets. There in the middle of my hut, with Arizona glittering around it for hundreds of miles, was a tiny dark Lon- don, into which I popped every morning about ten. When people tell you how lucky you are to be a professional writer, they enumerate advantages that you know very well are things not worth having; but they never mention this genuine bit of luck, that you can sit in Arizona and build for your- self a London that has just the people, streets, houses, and weather you need, and can then, months afterward, sit in Highgate on a dark wet Monday morning and conjure for yourself the bright illimitable spaces of the Arizona desert. True, other people can do this; but they must do it on their own time, for their own amusement — they are not at liberty to call it work. And it is a dark wet Monday morning this morning, and I am sitting in Highgate —working. Doesn't the student share this good Juci; that /. B. Priestley claims foi the piofessioiial writer? For you, too, are at liberty to call this conjuring up of " bright illimitable spaces " work — schoohvork. Here you are sitting in a study hall or your own room — working! And where are we going next? To Niagara Falls, that American phenomenon oi nature that all Europeans are most curious to see when they come to this country. Its mighty rush oi waters caught the imagination oi Alfred Noyes, the English poet who has won friends all over America by his extended lecture tours. Noyes loves the legendary past. Through his many ballads and tales — you surely know " The Highwayman " — he has brought back the Hie oi long ago. In his recent volume Poems of the New World he has done for America what he did earlier for England. Niagara, for example, is made the setting oi an Indian tale, " a cr}' from the years that are flown," retold in the swinging meter charac- teristic oi Noyes.
Till- RIVHR OF STARS RIVER OF STARS. Niagara Falls provided inspiration for this exciting Alfred Noyes poem. The Falls, half American and half Canadian, symbolize another kind of bridge between the English speaking peoples. (Press Association) THE RIVER OF STARS (A Tale of Niagara) ALFRED NOYES The lights of a hundred cities are fed by its midnight power. Their wheels are moved by its thunder. But they, too, have their hour. The tale of the Indian lovers, a cry from the years that are flown, While the river of stars is rolling, Rolling away to the darkness. Abides with the power in the midnight, where love may find its own. She watched from the Huron tents, till the first star shook in the air. The sweet pine scented her fawnskins, and breathed from her braided hair. Her crown was of milk-white bloodroot, because of the tryst she would keep, Beyond the river of beautj' That drifted away in the darkness, Drawing the sunset through lilies, with eyes like stars, to the deep.
6 BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC He matched, like a tall young wood-god. from the red pine that she named; But not for the peril behind him. where the e'es of the ISIohawks flamed. Eagle-plumed he stood. But his heart was hunting afar, Where the river of longing whispered . . . And one swift shaft from the darkness Felled him, her name in his death cr}-. his eyes on the sunset star. She stole from the river and listened. The moon on her wet skin shone. As a silver birch in the pine wood, her beauty flashed and was gone. There was no wave in the forest. The dark arms closed her round. But the river of life went flowing. Flowing away to the darkness. For her breast grew red with his heart's blood, in a night where the stars were drowned. Teach me, my lover, as you taught me of love in a day, Teach me of death, and forever, and set my feet on the way To the land of the happy shadows, the land where you are flown. And the river of death went weeping. Weeping awaj' to the darkness. — Is the hunting good, my lover, so good that you hunt alone? She rose to her feet like a shadow. She sent a en,- through the night, Sa-sa-kuon, the death whoop, that tells of triumph in fight. It broke from the bell of her mouth like the cr>' of a wounded bird, But the river of agony swelled it, And swept it along to the darkness, And the ^lohawks, crouched in the darkness, leapt to their feet as they heard. Close as the ring of the clouds that menace the moon with death. At once they circled her round. Her bright breast panted for breath. With only her own wild glon.- keeping the wolves at bay, While the river of parting whispered, Whispered away to the darkness. She looked in their eyes for a moment, and strove for a word to say. Teach me, O my lover.' — She set her foot on the dead. She laughed on the painted faces with the rings of yellow and red ^ / thank you, wolves of the Mohawk, for a woman's hands might fail, — And the river of vengeance chuckled, Chuckled away to the darkness. — But ye have killed where I hunted. I have come to the end of my trail. I thank you, braves of the Mohawk, who laid this thief at my feet. He tore my heart out living, and tossed it his dogs to eat. Ye have taught him of death in a moment, as he taught me of love in a day. —^ And the river of passion deepened. Deepened and rushed to the darkness. — And yet may a woman requite you, and set your feet on the way.
THE RIVER OF STARS For the woman that spits in my face, and the shaven heads that gibe, This night shall a woman show you the tents of the Huron tribe. They are lodged in a deep valley. With all things good it abounds. Where the red-eyed, green-mooned river Glides like a snake to the darkness, I will show you a valley, Mohawks, like the Happy Hunting Grounds. Follow! They chuckled, and followed like wolves to the glittering stream. Shadows obeying a shadow, they launched their canoes in a dream. Alone, in the first, with the blood on her breast, and her milk-white crown, She stood. She smiled at them, Follow, Then urged her canoe to the darkness. And, silently flashing their paddles, the Mohawks followed her down. And now — as they slid through the pine woods with their peaks of midnight blue, She heard, in the broadening distance, the deep sound that she knew, A mutter of steady thunder that grew as they glanced along; But ever she glanced before them And danced away to the darkness. And or ever they heard it rightly, she raised her voice in a song: — The wind from the Isles of the Blessed, it blows across the foam. It sings in the flowing maples of the land that was my home. Where the moose is a morning's hunt, and the buffalo feeds from the hand. — — And the river of mockery broadened. Broadened and rolled to the darkness — And the green maize lifts its feathers, and laughs the snow from the land. The river broadened and quickened. There was nought but river and sky. The shores were lost in the darkness. She laughed and lifted a cry: Follow me! Sa-sa-kuon! Swifter and swifter they swirled — And the flood of their doom went flying. Flying away to the darkness. Follow me, follow me, Mohawks! Ye are shooting the edge of the world. They struggled like snakes to return. Like straws they were whirled on her track. For the whole flood swooped to that edge where the unplumbed night dropt black, The whole flood dropt to a thunder in an unplumbed hell beneath, And over the gulf of the thunder A mountain of spray from the darkness Rose and stood in the heavens, like a shrouded image of death. She rushed like a star before them. The moon on her glorying shone. Teach me, O my lover, — her cry flashed out and was gone. A moment they battled behind her. They lashed with their paddles and lunged; Then the Mohawks, turning their faces Like a blood-stained cloud to the darkness. Over the edge of Niagara swept together and plunged.
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC And the lights of a hundred cities are fed by the ancient power; But a cry returns with the midnight; for they, too, have their hour. Teach me, O my lover, as you taught me of love in a day, —While the river of stars is rolling, Rolling away to the darkness, — Teach me of death, and forever, and set my feet on the way! Niagara Falls may be called a s^inbol of the hiendship beh'een Canada and the United States. Both countries onn part of this massive uaterfaJI, and near it the famous Peace Bridge spanning the Niagara Rier links the two nations. In fact. Canada itself is Uke a bridge hetneen the United States and England. Part of the British Empire, vet an independent dominion, Canada has main- tained ties with the Old World while deel- oping a way of life more nearly aiin to ours. Jt is interesting, therefore, to read what a Go'ernor General of Canada. Lord Tweeds- muir, has to sav in an essay he calls " Aly America." Before he acquired the dignity- of this position and, at the same time, the title of nohilitw he was plain John Buchan — a natie of Perth. Scotland. He had worked his wav through Glasgow and O.vford unier- sities: had been a director of information in World War I; and had produced an impos- ing arrav of sixt- books, many of them lively historical and adventure noeIs. After only Gve years in ofEce as Goernor GeneraJ he died suddenly in 1940 as the result of a fall. He had just completed the manuscript of Pilgrim's Wav. n'hich he said was not an auto- biography- but an " essav in recollection." In this book appears " Iv America," with its stimulating picture of ouiseh'es as others see us. MY AMERICA JOHN BUCHAN (Lord Tweedsmiiir') I first discovered .America through books. Not the tales of Indians and the Wild West which entranced my boyhood ; those seemed to belong to no particular quarter of the globe, but to an indefinable land of ro- mance, and I was not cognizant of any na- tion behind them. But when I became in- terested in literature I came strongly under the spell of New England. Its culture seemed to me to include what was best in Europe's, winnowed and clarified. Perhaps it was especially fitted to attract youth : for it was not too difficult or too recondite, but followed the " main march of the human affections." and it had the morning fresh- ness of a young people. Its cheerfulness atoned for its occasional bleakness and anemia. Lowell was the kind of critic I wanted, learned, rational, never freakish, alwaj-s intelligible. Emerson's gnomic wis- dom was a sound manual for adolescence, and of Thoreau I became —and for long remained —an ardent disciple. To a Scot of my upbringing there was something con- genial in the simplicity, the mUd austerity, and the girded discipline of the New Eng- land tradition. I felt that it had been de- rived from the same sources as our own. Then, while I was at O.xford, I read Colo- nel Henderson's Stonewall Jackson and be- came a student of the American Ci'il War. I cannot say what especially attracted me to that campaign: partly, no doubt, the ro- mance of it. the chivalrj' and the supreme heroism; partly its extraordinary technical interest, both military' and political: but chiefly, I think, because I fell in love with the protagonists. I had found the kind of man that I could wholeheartedly admire. Since those days my study of the Ci%-il War has continued. I have ^•isited most of its battlefields, I have followed the trail of its great marches. I have often read widely in its literature: indeed my memon.' has be- come so stored with its details that I have often found myself able to tell the descend- ants of its leaders facts about their fore- bears of which thev had never heard.
MY AMERICA PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS OF CANADA. Here is the seat of government of our nearest pood neighbor. John Buchan was Governor General of Canada for five years. (World Wide Photos) My interest soon extended from the sol- diers to the civilians, and I acquired a new admiration for Abraham Lincoln. Then it was enlarged to include the rest of Ameri- ca's history — the first settlements, the crossing of the Appalachians, the Revolu- tion, the building of the West. Soon Amer- ica, instead of being the unstoried land which it appears to most English travelers, became for me the home of a long tradition and studded with sacred places. I dare to say that no American was ever more thrilled by the prospect of seeing Westminster Ab- bey and the Tower, Winchester and Oxford, than I was by the thought of Valley Forge and the Shenandoah and the Wilderness. I came first into the United States by the way of Canada — a good way to enter, for English eyes are already habituated to the shagginess of the landscape and can begin to realize its beauties. iMy first reflection was that no one had told me how lovely the country was. I mean lovely, not vast and magnificent. I am not thinking of the Grand Canyon and the Yosemite and the Pacific coast, but of the ordinary rural landscape. There is much of the land which I have not seen, but in the East and the South and the Northwest I have collected a gallery of de- lectable pictures. I think of the farms which are clearings in the Vermont and New Hampshire hills, the flowery summer mea- dows, the lush cow pastures with an occa- sional stump to remind one that it is old forestland, the quiet lakes and the singing streams, the friendly accessible mountains; the little country towns of Massachusetts and Connecticut with their village greens and elms and two-century-old churches and courthouses; the secret glens of the .A,diron- dacks and the mountain meadows of the Blue Ridge; the long-settled champaign of Maryland and Pennsylvania; Virginian manors more Old-England perhaps than anything we have at home; the exquisite links with the past like much of Boston and
10 BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC Charleston and all of Annapolis; the sun- burnt aromatic ranges of Montana and Wyoming; the Pacific shores where from snow mountains fishable streams descend through some of the noblest timber on earth to an enchanted sea. It is a country most of which I feel to be in a special sense " habitable," designed for homes, adapted to human uses, a friendly land. I like, too, the way in which the no- menclature reflects its history, its racial varieties, its odd cultural mixtures, the grandiose and the homespun rubbing shoul- ders. That is how places should be named. I have no objection to Mechanicsville and Higginsville and Utica and Syracuse. They are a legitimate part of the record. And be- hind are the hoar-ancient memorials of the first dwellers, names like symphonies — Susquehanna, Ticonderoga, Shenandoah, Wyoming, . . . No country can show such a wide range of type and character, and I am so constituted that in nearly all I find something to interest and attract me. This is more than a tem- peramental bias, for I am very ready to give reasons for my liking. I am as much alive as anyone to the weak and ugly things in American life: areas, both urban and rural, where the human economy has gone rotten; the melting pot which does not always melt ; the eternal colored problem; a constitu- tional machine which I cannot think ade- quately represents the efficient good sense of the American people; a brand of journal- ism which fatigues with its ruthless snappi- ness and uses a speech so disintegrated that it is incapable of expressing any serious thought or emotion; the imbecile patter of high-pressure salesmanship; an academic jargon, used chiefly by psychologists and sociologists, which is hideous and almost meaningless. Honest Americans do not deny these blemishes; indeed they are apt to ex- aggerate them, for they are by far the stern- est critics of their own country. For myself, I would make a double plea in extenuation. These are defects from which today no na- tion is exempt; for they are the fruits of a mechanical civilization, which perhaps are more patent in America since everything there is on a large scale. Again, you can set an achievement very much the same in kind against nearly every failure. If her historic apparatus of government is cranky, she is capable of meeting the " instant need of things '' with brilliant improvisations. Against economic plague spots she can set great experiments in charity; against jour- nalistic baby talk, a standard of popular writing in her best papers which is a model of idiom and perspicuity; against catch- penny trade methods, many solidly founded, perfectly organized commercial enterprizes; against the jargon of the half-educated pro- fessor, much noble English prose in the great tradition. That is why it is so foolish to generalize about America. You no sooner construct a rule than it is shattered by the exceptions. As I have said, I have a liking for almost every kind of American (except the kind who decry their country). I have even a sneaking fondness for George Babbitt/ which I fancy is shared by his creator. But there are two types which I value especially, and which I have never met elsewhere in quite the same form. One is the pioneer. No doubt the physical frontier of the United States is now closed, but the pioneer still lives, though the day of the covered wagon is over. I have met him in the New England hills, where he is grave, sardonic, deliberate in speech; in the South, where he has a ready smile and a soft, caressing way of talking; in the ranges of the West, the cow- puncher with his gentle voice and his clear, friendly eyes which have not been dulled by reading print — the real thing, far re- moved from the vulgarities of film and fic- tion. At his best, I think, I have found him as a newcomer in Canada, where he is push- ing north into districts like the Peace River, pioneering in the old sense. By what signs is he to be known? Principally by the fact that he is wholly secure, that he possesses his soul, that he is the true philosopher. He ' George Babbitt: central character of Sinclair Lewis's novel Babbitt, supposed to represent a typical middle-class American.
MY AMERICA II is one of the few aristocrats left in the world. He has a right sense of the vakie of life, because his cosmos embraces both na- ture and man. I think he is the most stead- fast human being now alive. The other type is at the opposite end of the social scale, the creature of a complex society who at the same time is not domi- nated by it but, while reaping its benefits, stands a little aloof. In the older countries culture, as a rule, leaves some irregularity like an e.xcrescence in a shapely tree trunk, some irrational bias, some petulance or prejudice. You have to go to America, I think, for the wholly civilized man who has not lost his natural vigor or agreeable idio- syncrasies, but who sees life in its true pro- portions and has a fine balance of mind and spirit. It is a character hard to define, but anyone with a wide American acquaintance will know what I mean. They are people in whom education has not stunted any natu- ral growth or fostered any abnormality. They are Greek in their justness of outlook, but Northern in their gusto. Their eyes are shrewd and candid, but always friendly. As examples I would cite, among friends who are dead, the names of Robert Bacon,' Walter Page,- Newton Baker,'' and Dwight Morrow.* But I am less concerned with special tv^pes than with the American people as a whole. Let me try to set down certain qualities which seem to me to flourish more lustily in the United States than elsewhere. Again, let me repeat, I speak of America only as I know it; an observer with a different experience might not agree with my con- clusions. First I would select what, for want of a better word, I should call homeliness. It is significant that the ordinary dwelling, though it be only a shack in the woods, is called not a house but a home. This means that the family, the ultimate social unit, is • Robert Bacon: .American Ambassador to France, iQOQ-iqi2. ' Walter Page: .Ambassador to Great Britain, 1913-1018. ' Newton Baker: Secretary of War during World War I. ' Dwight Morrow: .Ambassador to Mexico, i927-io?o. given its proper status as the foundation of society. Even among the richer classes I seem to find a certain pleasing domesticity. English people of the same rank are sepa- rated by servants from the basic work of the household, and know very little about it. In America the kitchen is not too far away from the drawing room, and it is recognized, as Heraclitus said, that the gods may dwell there. But I am thinking chiefly of the ordi- nary folk, especialh' those of narrow means. It is often said that Americans are a nomad race, and it is true that they are very ready to shift their camp; but the camp, however bare, is always a home. The cohesion of the family is close, even when its members are scattered. This is due partly to tradition of the first settlers, a handful in an unknown land; partly to the history of the frontier, where the hearth fire burned brighter when all around was cold and darkness. The later immigrants from Europe, feeling at last se- cure, were able for the first time to establish a family base, and they cherished it zeal- ously. This ardent domesticity has had its bad effects on American literature, inducing a sentimentality which makes a too crude frontal attack on the emotions and which has produced as a reaction a not less senti- mental " toughness." But as a social cement it is beyond price. There have been many to laugh at the dullness and pettiness of the " small town." From what I know of small- town life elsewhere, I suspect obtuseness in the satirists. Second, I would choose the sincere and widespread friendliness of the people. Americans are interested in the human race, and in each other. Deriving doubtless from the old frontier days, there is a general help- fulness which I have not found in the same degree elsewhere. A homesteader in Dakota will accompany a traveler for miles to set him on the right road. The neighbors will rally round one of their number in distress with the loyalty of a Highland clan. This friendliness is not a self-conscious duty so much as an instinct. A squatter in a cabin ^ Heraclitus (her-a-kli'tus) : a Greek philoso- pher of about SCO B.C.
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC 12 will share his scanty provender and never dream that he is doing anything unusual. American hospitaUty, long as I have en- joyed it, still leaves me breathless. The lav- i<;hness with which a busy man will give up precious time to entertain a stranger to whom he is in no way bound remams for me one of the wonders of the world. No doubt this friendliness, since it is an estab- lished custom, has its fake side. The endless brotherhoods and sodalities into which peo- ple brigade themselves encourage a geniality which is more a mannerism than an index of character, a tiresome, noisy, backslap- ping heartiness. But that is the exception, not the rule. Americans like company, but though they are gregarious they do not lose themselves in the crowd. Waves of mass emotion ma' sweep the country', but they are transient things and do not submerge for long the stubborn rock of indi-idualism. That is to say. people can be led: but they will not be driven. Their love of human companionship is based not on self-distrust but on a genuine liking for their kind. With them the sense of a common humanity is a warm and constant instinct and not a doc- trine of the schools or a slogan of the hustings. Lastly — and this may seem a paradox — I maintain that they are fundamentally modest. Their interest in others is a proof of it: the Aristotelian^ :Magnificent Man was interested in nobody but himself. As a nation they are said to be sensitive to criti- cism: that surely is modesty, for the truly arrogant care nothing for the opinion of other people. Above all they can laugh at themselves, which is not possible for the immodest. They are their own shrewdest and most ribald critics. It is charged against them that they are inclined to boast unduly about those achievements and about the greatness of their countr', but a smug glory- ing in them is found only in the American of the caricaturist. They rejoice in showing their mar'els to a visitor with the gusto of children exhibiting their toys to a stranger, ' Aristotelian (ar-Is-tS-te'U-in) : .Aristotle (384- 322 B.C.) was a Greek philosopher. an innocent desire, without any unfriendly gloating, to make others partakers in their satisfaction. If now and then they are guilty of bombast, it is surely a venial fault. The excited American talks of his land very much, I suspect, as the Elizabethans in their cups talked of England. The foreigner who strayed into the Mermaid Tavern - must often have listened to heroics which upset his temper. The native genius, in humor and in many of the public and private relations of life, is for overstatement, a high-colored, imagi- native, paradoxical extravagance. The Brit- ish gift is for understatement. Both are legitimate figures of speech. They serve the same purpose: for they call attention to a fact by startling the hearer, since manifestly they are not the plain truth. Personally I delight in both mannerisms and would not for the world have their possessors reject them. They ser-e the same purpose in an- other and a subtler sense, for they can be used to bring novel and terrible things within the pale of homely experience. I re- member on the Western Front in 1918 that two divisions, British and American, aligned side by side, suffered a heaw shelling. An American sergeant described it in racy and imaginative speech which would have been appropriate to the Day of Judgment. A British sergeant merely obser-ed that •' Kaiser "ad been a bit 'asty." Each had a twinkle in his eye: each in his national idiom was making frightfulness endurable by domesticating it. When World War II descended upon Eu- rope, the ties behveen England and America were strengthened, Een before «e partici- pated actively as alhes with England, we be- came more keenly aware of our common heritage of ideas, our concepts of freedom and justice which had come down to us through our shared language. England threat- ened and England bombed touched our deep est SATnpathies. > Mermaid Tavern: favorite haunt of Shake- speare and other literary men of sixteenth- century London.
BRITAIN AND THE BOMBINGS 13 LONDON SKYLINE BY BOMBLIGHT. This dramatic picture shows London lit up by a great blaze started by incendiary bombs. (Press Association) During the cailv davs of the war it was hard for Americans to know exacfJy ii'hat haioc had been «'roiight. Letters «ere stiicth censored and newspaper accounts so piece- meal that it was aJmost impossible to form a clear overall picture of conditions. Allan Nevins, an able American historian, ga'e us that picture in one of the finest pieces of re- porting that has come out of the war. He did not go to England for the purpose of writing a book, but rather to make himself usefuJ in anv possible «'av to a country where he had been for a time Professor of American ffistorv at Oxford. The Ministry of Infor- mation sent him all o-er England making speeches, and for six months he had unusual opportunities for obscn'ation. L''pon his re- turn to the United States he was pre'ailed upon to write a series of articles for the press which were later collected in This Is England To3av. The heroism and the unswerving de termination of the British in the face of assaults such as the follow ing selection de- scribes won the admiration of all Americans. The war itself had become the keystone of the bridge across the Atlantic. Both the pic- ture at the top of the page and Mr. Nevins's article vividly suggest the job of rebuilding that faces England. BRITAIN AND THE BOMBINGS ALLAN NEVINS " It is impossible," wrote the Lady May- oress of Plymouth (Lady Aster) on April 4, after the worst of that city's ordeal, " for the ordinary person to visualize a blitz un- less he has lived through one." That is true, and true in the sense that a blitz is much worse than most people can imagine before it occurs. Again and again in Great Britain a city has made what it considered to be adequate preparations. Then, when the Ger- man bombers swept over, the inhabitants found that some aspects of the disaster were more frightful than they had anticipated, and that their measures were insufficient. An air raid converts a city into a battlefield; the din, the confusion, the swift emergen- cies, and, alas, the butchery and anguish of the battlefield are all present. Yet great as the suffering and social dis- location have been, the raids on Britain have not materially affected the war. .MI the sav- age, indiscriminate German attacks have failed to do that because, first, the damage to vital war industries has been small; be- cau.sc, second and more important, they have not lowered the spirit of the people
H but have rather raised and hardened it, have not lessened the unity of the popula- tion but strengthened it; and because, in the third place, they have not deflected the British authorities for an instant from their determination to bomb war objectives alone, and to bomb them strictly according to plan. In six months in Great Britain I saw- most of the heavily stricken cities. The cen- ters which had suffered most tragically in proportion to their extent and population seemed to me to be Clydebank, Birkenhead and its neighbor on the Mersey called Wal- lasey, Coventry, Southampton, and Bris- tol. Undoubtedly Plymouth and Ports- mouth should be added to the list, but them I did not see. The damage in great parts of Liverpool and London was appalling. That is, in both there were areas amounting to many acres which were simply hum- mocked expanses of broken brick, stone, mortar, glass, and slate, while the principal streets were pocked with shattered build- ings. In Birmingham and ilanchester the damage could be termed very heavy, while in Sheffield it was far from light. Belfast, which I did not visit, has also been hard hit; late in April one raid cost about 500 dead and more than 1500 injured. Some of the east-coast towns, such as Hull — not long ago the third port of the kingdom — have been raided again and again, though I found York, Durham, and Newcastle, like Edin- burgh, almost unscathed. Yet in not one of the centers* which I was able to visit had the important war facili- ties, so far as I saw them, been put out of action or badly crippled. In most of the cities the mills, factories, docks, wharves, and shipbuilding works were operating with full vigor. This was because the German raiding had been ill-planned, blindly spor- adic, and clumsily executed. It was the raid- ing of a dirty fighter hitting out to cause pain, not to strike a vital spot. . . . It was Coventry, however, which struck me as offering the most telling illustration of the inability of the German bombers to do really atal damage with their indiscrimi- nate hail of missiles. As a city Coventry is BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC mutilated beyond all recognition; as a man- ufacturing area it is still practically un- harmed and vigorously busy. The municipal coat of arms is an elephant bearing a castle on his back. The elephant has been badly battered, but the castle stands foursquare. The tremendous raid at Coventry on No- vember 13-14 last fall was followed this spring ' by another savage blow. I was shown about the city by Alderman W. Halli- well, Laborite chairman of the emergency committee, who has won a national reputa- tion by his impetuous energy. He told me that when the war began, Coventry had about 74,000 houses. In the great blitz be- tween 4000 and 5000 were demolished and about 50,000 were more or less damaged, many suffering only smashed windows and sprung doors. The death roll for that No- vember night was more than 500. Exact fig- ures cannot be given — some dead bodies are still being found, some never will be found. The Germans poured their main stream of incendiaries and high explosives into the center of this closely packed city, so that the business district has largely dis- appeared. Along streets from which the rubble had been cleared, temporary one- story shops with open fronts or a few small panes were carrying on trade. The cathedral tow-er rose gaunt and impressive over the ruined nave, its shattered walls inclosing uneven piles of stone, brick, lime, and glass. Chairman Halliwell furnished a moving description of the days after the great blitz. The population seemed stunned by the eleven hours of continuous bombing and by the extent of the catastrophe that met their eyes as they crawled from the shelters. " That's it, stunned. They were fair dazed." The water system had been put out of com- mission; the gas mains were smashed, and some of them were blazing; the electric lighting was gone. Clouds of smoke swirled overhead. Streets were choked with rubbish and pitted with craters; nobody could move tw'o blocks except by a tedious process of trial and error. About 250 une.xploded bombs lay in the city, and the first morning ' this spring: the spring of 1941.
BRIIAIN AND THE BOMBINGS Eialliwell parked his car beside one. Half he rest centers prepared in advance had Deen blitzed. Little or no food was available. Most of the groceries and bakeries had dis- ippeared. and the restaurants and hotels vere smashed. Haggard families with noth- ng left but the garments on their backs vandered along the ruined streets looking or shelter. One of the first steps taken was send around loud.speaker wagons, sup- )lied by the Ministry of Information, which mnounced that vehicles were standing at uch-and-such spots on the outskirts and could carry the homeless to refuges in leighboring cities and towns. Of course a ;reat many of the stricken people went to riends and relatives. . . . This city was so frightfully smashed that rhen the King arrived they picked him up wo and a half miles from the center, and lad to make detours aggregating about wenty miles to get him to the heart of town. I'et most of the war industries were quite inhurt. Coventry profited from the fact that Qdustrially it has been practically remade rithin the last generation. Before igoo it ras largely devoted to cotton spinning, car- lets, ribbons, and textiles generally; then ts bicycle and sewing-machine factories lowered into motor, electric, and engineer- ig establishments. This renovation of its adustry meant that works were scattered ridely about the outskirts. The German al- ack on the heart of the city had left them nscathed. Chairman Halliwell told me that nly one really important plant had been ermanently put out of action by the Xo- ember blitz. A number of small shops en- aged on subcontracting jobs had been mashed, but they did not count. As I drove bout the city on three separate asits, I ould believe him. The Triumph Engineer- ig Works were in ruins : so were two te.xtile lills; so were some small iron foundries, lut the great establishments — despite 3me near misses —• were busy. The first thought of the authorities was 3 put the factories back into operation. A all was issued over the radio for all persons •ith catering e.xperience to assemble at the Council Hou.se: for perhaps 7000 workers had formerly gotten their midday meal in Coventry, and now had no place to eat. To the astonishment of the authorities, the chamber was packed. Woolworth's and other shops quickly opened restaurants; fac- tories with cafeterias operated them con- tinuously. For water, some three hundred miles of fle.xible steel pipe were laid on the surface — there was no time to restore the underground mains. It was gotten in a hurry, and the army put it down without delay. Jointless metal piping was similarly laid on the surface for gas. The sewage ques- tion was difficult for a time, for the system had been badlj" smashed; but emergency efforts soon got it in repair. By Christmas nearly all the Coventn,- workers had gas, electricity, and running water again. Special calls were issued for carpenters and roofers, and a large force was soon repairing the houses. The authorities sent to the potteries in Staffordshire, and got truckloads of table- ware as a gift; they sent to Sheffield for knives and forks, which came at once. Other difficulties were quickly met. Of the thirty schools half a dozen had been demolished, while others were temporarily unusable be- cause of unexploded iDombs. But within a few weeks nearly all of them were operating. People who had worshiped at the cathedral went to the fine Holy Trinity Church hard by; the tw-o principal Baptist and Congre- gationalist units " doubled up," their minis- ters taking the pulpit by turns. Altogether, Coventn,' lost its stride for only a short time and then carried on. Within a few days the large mills and fac- tories were going back to their regular schedules. The city's drop in population was small: only 15.000 to 25,000 out of a total of 225,000. As war work was resumed, the authorities laid plans for decentralizing the industries; and some factories were moved farther away from the heart of Coventry. This reduced the losses in the .pril raid. Of course it would be incorrect to say that no important war damage has been done in Great Britain. Xot all of the bombs failed to find military objectives. The docks
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC ST. PAUL'S BEFORE AND DURING. Though the bombs dropped all around, the main structure of St. Paul's Cathedral stands intact. (Press Association) (Ewing Galloway) at Liverpool have suffered heavily along one stretch. . . . Great warehouses full of valu- able goods have been destroyed in some large cities, notably Bristol, Manchester, and Liverpool. But by far the larger part of the damage has been without military ef- fect; it is damage to civilian life and the arts and amenities of civilization. Nowhere is this truer than in London. The great blitz of April i6 there, which I witnessed, was simply a piece of German spitefulness, a vindictive attempt to smash as many as possible of those artistic and his- torical monuments in which London is so incomparably richer than Berlin. It was a most spectacular affair. The air-raid warn- ing went at nine-thirty in the evening, and waves of bombers kept up the attack until dawn. Scores of searchlights threw up their shafts into the skies; antiaircraft shells burst high in air like glorious Roman can- dles; from time to time the Germans loosed groups of chandelier flares which slowly sank, shedding an eerie yellow light over the rooftops. The crash of bombs went on all night; in one fifteen-minute period I counted twenty which seemed to fall within a mile or two of Broadcasting House. The German object was to cause as much de- struction as possible in Westminster, the aristocratic shopping area, and the residen- tial districts abutting on Hyde Park and Green Park. They struck churches, libraries, museums, and public buildings, but the military damage was negligible. Almost equally barbarous were the attacks in May, when east London again suffered badly, while more of the old, mellow, famous build- ings of central London were destroyed. Happily the most precious structures are less hurt than Americans might suppose. The bomb that went through the lantern tower of Westminster Abbey did such re- stricted harm that damage is hardly visi- ble from the outside. Only a small part of the roof of Westminster Hall has been shattered. The main structure of the Houses of Parliament is intact; so is the main structure of St. Paul's. But it is sad to look at the ruins elsewhere — the Guild-
BRITAIN AND THE BOMBINGS hall, the Middle Temple and Inner Tem- ple, Gray's Inn, Westminster School, St. Clement Danes, Chelsea Old Church and Chelsea Hospital, a great part of Lam- beth Palace, and many another lovely and storied building. Most of the stately Tudor buildings of Charterhouse have been gutted. Only the fagade of the Grey Coat Hospital, built in Elizabethan days, remains; the quaint uniformed effigies of a boy and girl which flank the coat of arms on the front turn their backs on the ashes of the long hall. In Cheapside the tower and steeple of St. Mary-le-Bow, ftuilt by Christopher Wren, survive — but nothing else of that handsome church. The list could be made far longer by including valuable modern buildings; for example. Queen's Hall, so long the home of the London Philharmonic, of which only the ticket office is left. The heavy blows of April and May, with the deaths that they caused — for on April i6 the British lost more lives in London than in the main Greek campaign — did practi- cally no military harm. They were blows at civilization which left Germany as well as the rest of the world permanently poorer. The indiscriminate bombings were un- doubtedly founded upon a German hope to break the morale of the British people by death, maiming, and fear. But the worse hit the town, the higher the response. The Lord Provost in Glasgow, after describing how Clydesiders had withstood two nights of heavy raiding, burst out: "The spirit of these people is mountainous." That was a good deal for a Scot to say. The Lord Mayor of Bristol made a quieter re- mark: "The morale of our people is com- pletely unshaken." Churchill put it pithily in a visit to Plymouth: " Their houses are down, but their hearts are up." It is gener- ally agreed that nothing has done more to unify the people of London and arouse their anger than the repeated attempts to bomb Buckingham Palace. It is generally agreed also that the way in which the West End of London welcomed and succored evacues from the East End after the bombing of the fall of 1940 did much for national cohesion. 17 The East Enders did not like the big rooms, the expensive shops, the lack of old neigh- bors; they soon flocked home. But some- thing had been done to teach the upper and lower classes that they were going through the ordeal together. Some anecdotes perhaps illustrate the spirit of heroism, defiance, and social unity best. They 'told me in Bristol of a sixteen- year-old girl who disposed of eight incendi- ary bombs in slightly over a half-hour, meanwhile changing from a party dress to shorts and then to slacks. They told me in Coventry of a girl of five who emerged the night after the big blitz for a pint of milk at a portable canteen. It was free. But she was not taking charity. She laid down tup- pence with the order: " Put that in the Spit- fire fund! " They told me in London of a fire warden, buried five hours in a ruined post, who when dug out said: " Thank you all, mates. You were great." Sir John Simon related to me with feeling a scene he had witnessed in a first-aid station. An old man, badly injured, was brought in and laid down groaning with pain. Presently an old woman, also injured and groaning with pain, was brought in and laid beside him. He reached out and took his wife's hand in his — and their groans ceased; they were content. An- other well-known Englishman I heard ex- press his admiration of a specially steadfast group in a sudden outburst: " After this war Heaven is going to be full of London charwomen." We have come through these crises. A vast human experience has passed into the reaJm of history, and the race has sun'ived. We can now turn toward a future ot hope for a per- manent peace. But peace can never mean in- acti'x'ity or self-indulgence. Man has always battled with the elements and other forces greater than himself, and will continue to do so. Some of these struggles and conquests will he in new fields. The air, for instance, is a challenging frontier for man's new world. We may " lie in the dark and listen " for the portentous things the air may have in store.
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC XIGHT FLIGHT They're going over in waves and waves High above villages, hills, and streams. (Wide World Photos) Country churches and little graves And little citizens' worried dreams. Noel Coward, a popular British plawright who has often appeared in his own pJays on the American stage, is always alert to the mod- ern scene. In this striking poem, puWished in the Atlantic Monthly in rg^^, he voices the awe, the helplessness, and the feeling of ominous waiting that have come to us as a result of the masten' of the air. The situation is obviously the night raids of the war. but the poem can also be gien a broader inter- pretation. The debt of the earthbound to those who venture into 'ast spaces of dark- ness can neer be paid — either in wai or in peace. LIE IN THE DARK AND LISTEN NOEL COWARD Lie in the dark and listen. It's clear tonight, so they're flying high, Hundreds of them, thousands perhaps, Riding the icy, moonlit sky, !Men, machinery, bombs, and maps, Altimeters and guns and charts, Coffee, sandwiches, fleece-lined boots. Bones and muscles and minds and hearts, English saplings with English roots Deep in the earth they've left below. Lie in the dark and let them go; Lie in the dark and listen. Lie in the dark and listen. The'"re going over in waves and waves High above villages, hills, and streams, Country churches and little graves And little citizens' worried dreams; Very soon they'll have reached the sea, And far below them will lie the bays And cliffs and sands where they used to be Taken for summer holidays. Lie in the dark and let them go; Theirs is a world we'll never know. Lie in the dark and listen. Lie in the dark and listen. City magnates and steel contractors, Factory workers and politicians, Soft hysterical little actors,
LIE IN THE DARK AND LISTEN 19 Ballet dancers, reserved musicians, Safe in your warm civilian beds, Count your profits and count your sheep — Life is passing above your heads; Just turn over and try to sleep. Lie in the dark and let them go; There's one debt you'll forever owe. Lie in the dark and listen. The fascination of the air is too new to have found its way into much h'terature. But what of the challenges of the past? There are urges and aspirations that ha'e been passed on from generation to generation and uill be passed on to our children and grandchil- dren after us. Close indeed does it bring us to OUT remote ancestors when we read side bv side two poems which voice a longing for the sea with all its dangers and hardships. One of these was written by England's pres- ent poet laureate. John Afasefield; the other by an unJcnown saiJor-poet of fifteen cen- turies ago. Thus can we bridge in a moment that great gap of time. Just as we turn on our radios and space becomes as nothing, so we can turn on our imaginations and centuries are instantly dissolved. Afen speaking to us in the strange tongue of antiquity are at our elbows. Through sharing their thoughts we gradualh- come to sense a common impulse that ibrates like an electric current through succeeding generations. From Anglo-Saxon times to the present day this book will trace the rich Iegac- of literature with which the English language has endowed us. JMA 4 ^w*^ ''<3k^^H uT"^ j^^^H ....A ^ ' j^^^^H 1 DOWN TO THE SEAS. In literature and in fact, from the romantic old sailing ship to the modern merchantman, the British have been a seafaring people, and the sea is an enduring thread in their literature. (Key- stone View) SEA FEVER JOHN MASEFIELD I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying. And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.
BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant g>'psy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. Of unknown authorship and date, the fol- lowing poem is one of the earliest lyrics of our language. In fact, the language of those days was so different from our present Eng- lish that a translation is necessary. The trans- lator. Dr. J. Duncan Spaeth, has retained as far as possible the mood and style of the original. He has, however, made one depar- ture from it hv arranging the poem as a dia- logue to bring out more clearly the contrast suggested by the words themselves. Thus the old sailor represents the realistic voice of hitter experience; the youth speaks with a romantic fenor not to he daunted by hard- ship and danger. In vividness of detail and poetic quality of diction, this poem does not suffer by comparison with " Sea Fever." After reading it vou will probably want to know more of those hard}- ancestors of ours who gave us our first literary heirlooms. THE SEAFARER (An Anglo-Saxon Poem) The Old Sailor True is the tale that I tell of my travels. Sing of my seafaring sorrows and woes; Hunger and hardship's heaviest burdens, Tempest and terrible toil of the deep, Daily I've borne on the deck on my boat. Fearful the welter of waves that encom- passed me, Watching at night on the narrow bow, As she drove by the rocks, and drenched me with spray. Fast to the deck my feet were frozen. Gripped by the cold, while care's hot surges My heart o'erwhelmed, and hunger's pangs Sapped the strength of my sea-weary spirit. Little he knows whose lot is happy, Who lives at ease in the lap of the earth, How, sick at heart, o'er icy seas, Wretched I ranged the winter through. Bare of joys, and banished from friends. Hung with icicles, stung by hailstones. NJought I heard but the hollow boom Of wintry waves, or the wild swan's whoop. For singing I had the solan's scream; For peals of laughter, the yelp of the seal; The sea-mew's cry, for the mirth of the mead-hall. Shrill through the roar of the shrieking gale Lashing along the sea-cliff's edge. Pierces the ice-plumed petrel's defiance. And the wet-winged eagle's answering scream. Little he dreams that drinks life's pleasure. By danger untouched in the shelter of towns, Insolent and wine-proud, how utterly weary Oft I wintered on open seas. Night fell black, from the north it snowed Harvest of hail. The Youth Oh, wildly my heart Beats in my bosom and bids me to try The tumble and surge of seas tumultuous, Breeze and brine and the breakers' roar. Daily, hourly, drives me my spirit Outward to sail, far countries to see. Liveth no man so large in his soul. So gracious in giving, so gay in his youth. In deeds so daring, so dear to his lord.
THE SEAFARER 21 But frets his soul for his sea-adventure, Fain to try what fortune shall send. Harping he needs not, nor hoarding of treasure; Xor woman can win him, nor joys of the world. Nothing does please but the plunging bil- lows ; Ever he longs, who is lured by the sea. Woods are abloom, the wide world awakens, Gay are the mansions, the meadows most fair; These are but warnings, that haste on his journey Him whose heart is hungry to taste The perils and pleasures of the pathless deep. The Old Sailor Dost mind the cuckoo mournfully calling? The summer's watchman sorrow forbodes. What does the landsman that wantons in luxury. What does he reck the rough sea's foe. The cares of the exile, whose keel has ex- plored The uttermost parts of the ocean-ways! The Youth Sudden my soul starts from her prison- house, Soareth afar o'er the sounding main; Hovers on high, o'er the home of the whale; Back to me darts the bird-sprite and beck- ons, Winging her way o'er woodland and plain, Hungry to roam, and bring me where glisten Glorious tracts of glimmering foam. This life on land is lingering death to me, Give me the gladness of God's great sea. So the " gladness of God's great sea " car- ried Englishmen eernvherc and scattered them throughout the world, where thcv hae built homes and founded great nations. In this volume you will trace the thoughts of these people as they have developed through the ages. You wilJ become more keenlv aware of certain hopes and determinations and aspirations which, through literature, are the inheritance of English-speaking people every- where: love of home, readiness to ad'enture, stoic endurance of hardship, insistence on freedom and justice, will to achieve, devoted search for truth, grim resistance to ^vrong- doing, and desire for the peace and stabilitj' of the H'orld. In conclusion let us read the following tribute to the little center — so small geo- graphicalh- — from which such great influ- ences have radiated. The words are those of England's foremost literar)' master, ShaJce- speare. This other Eden, demiparadise. This fortress built bv Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war. This happy breed of men. this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which senes it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house Against the envT of less happier lands. This blessed plot, this earth, this rea!m, this England. King Richard II
HERE IS ENGLAND. Britain's insular position has played a large role in preventing in- vasion from the continent and in maintaining the integrity of the British people. The varied terrain and great natural beauty of the islands have had a profound influence on many English writers, especially the poets, through the centuries.
u THE literature of a people who all speak the same language is simply the sum total of the best writings in that language. Poems, plays, novels, biog- raphy, essays, and history help to form this total. This book presents as examples of English literature many of the best writings of the English, and also of the Irish and the Scots. The writings of our own country are presented in a separate volume, Adventures in American Literature; but English litera- ture is, of course, the parent of American literature. In order to understand how and why the English language has grown and changed, and how its literature has developed, it is well to know something of the background of English history. THE BRITISH EMPIRE Great Britain (England, Scotland, and Wales) and Ireland are two islands close to the continent of Europe, northwest of France. From this center has developed the British Empire, now to a large extent a Commonwealth of free and independent na- tions. The most important of these are the Dominions of Canada and Newfoundland (half the continent of North .America), Australia, New Zealand, and the Union of South Africa. The many colonies through- out the world are governed more directly by Britain. India forms a unique part of the Empire, neither as self-governing as a do- minion nor as dependent as a colony. In 1922 South Ireland became the Irish Free State with the same status as a dominion in the Empire, but in 1938, with the new name of Eire, she became a separate republic. The six northern counties of Ireland have re- tained their original position as part of the nation of Great Britain. HOW ENGL.ND BEG.'^N Thousands of years ago the island known as Britain was a part of the mainland, a peninsula jutting northward from France. No English Channel then separated it from the Continent. The first inhabitants of Brit- ain had come from Iberia (Spain). Small in stature, they fought and hunted ferocious animals in the forests. Several thousand years before the birth of Christ they had trackways, rude mounds for the burial of their dead, and the crude beginnings of civilization. Their Stone Age was followed by the Bronze and the Iron ages, as the material used for weapons and implements changed and new- metals were discovered. .RRIV.L OF THE CELTS Then a larger and more robust people, the Celts, entered Britain from the lands that are now France and Germany. Some of them painted themselves with crude color; so the Romans, on first seeing them, called them Picts, or Painted People (hence our word " picture ") . From one group, the Br'- thons (" tattooed men "), the name Britain is derived. The Celts, a barbarous people, were clan- nish. Together they fought their tribal ene- mies. They had no central government and no written language. Their priests, called Druids, taught them of a world after death. The huge stone pillars at Stonehenge (prob- ably erected long before the coming of the Celts) were used as one of the re-
HERE IS ENGLAND STONEHENGE, SOUTHERN ENGLAND. These huge pillars are the remains of what was probably a religious meeting place of the earliest inhabitants of the British Isles. (Culver Service) ligious meeting places of these priests. Then, during the slowly passing centuries, the Britannic Isles were cut off from the European mainland by the body of water now called the English Channel. THE GEOGRAPHY OF ENGLAND The history of a country is influenced by its geographical position and the shape of its land. The southeast part of England sloped toward France. The chalk cliffs along the southern coast were broken by inviting harbors, and the east coast was low and marshy. It was fertile land, too, with a tem- perate climate. Wild winds, blowing against England's western hills, brought ample rainfall. These conditions invited many early invasions. HOW ENGLAND LOOKS TODAY England is roughly triangular in shape. The eastern part is agriculturally the rich- est. It has also the easier trade approach from the Continent. To the west lies the great Midland Plain — bordered by the coal district, called the " Black Country." This thickly populated plain is the heart of rural England. In its western part are great flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, and some of its towns manufacture woolen and leather goods. The major manufacturing districts lie to the west and north. On the east coast of England, north of the fertile land, a large shallow bay called The Wash receives a number of rivers. The level land at the mouths of the rivers is known as the Fens. Originally very swampy, this land is now extensively drained. From Scotland south to the center of England runs the Pennine Chain of hills. Its great deposits of coal and iron feed manufacturing, which supports one of the densest populations in the world. In the northwest lies the Lake District, noted for beautiful scenery and steep hills, celebrated by the Lake Poets. The tip of England's southwest peninsula is Cornwall, steep and rugged, where King Arthur is supposed to have lived. From the southern coast of England, the Chalk Coun- try runs northeast into the middle of Eng- land. Long ago a great sheet of chalk spread over the whole southeastern section. The chalk cliffs of Dover, which gave Eng- land the early name of Albion (meaning White Land), are still a notable landmark. (See Alice Duer Miller's poem " The White Cliffs of Dover," from which a recent mov- ing picture was made.) The part of England nearest France is called The Weald ; it com- prises Susse.x, Surrey, and Kent. Once it was one of the densest forests in Britain. Chalk forms the Downs to the north of the Weald, while the South Downs meet the sea
THE BRITISH ISLES in historic promontories. Sheep, grass, and beech and oak trees are plentiful on the Downs. In the north of England are wide moors or peat fields overgrown with heather. West of England is Wales, craggy and forested like the Scottish highlands. Sepa- rated from England by a mountain barrier, it was in ancient days the refuge of defeated primitive tribes. Today it is a rich country for coal mining and the smelting of metals. A musical race, the Welsh have always had their local poets and annual congresses of bards, minstrels, and writers. SCOTLAND North of England is Scotland, a land of varied beauty with rugged mountains and numerous lakes and streams. It is divided into two parts: the Highlands in the north and the Lowlands nearest to England. Until quite recently the Highland Celts spoke 25 Gaelic. These hunters and herders of cattle have always stood aloof from the English. The Lowlanders, on the other hand, have long been close to England in language and customs. Some of the best writers of Eng- lish literature are Lowland Scots. To the. west of England is Ireland, with rugged cliffs, lakes, and rich vegetation. Like Wales and northern Scotland. Ireland was in early days the remote fastness to which the Celtic tribes retreated. England later conquered Ireland, but a long history of Irish dissatisfaction with English rule re- sulted in the present Republic of Eire. The genius of the Celtic race has contributed excellent writing both in the ancient Gaelic tongue and in modern English. With this preliminary view, we now turn to the first invasion of England in historic times and the beginnings of English litera- ture. .-i CORNWALL TOWN'. Much of England's charm lies in her villages. This is Looe, one of the many picturesque fishing towns on England's coasts. (Ewing GaUoway)
THE AXGLO-S.XOX AGE. Turbulenl sea and log-bound land created a iUun-, bold race of men always reach- to fight ; but equally ready to enjoy food and drink and song and ston.- in the great hall when the battle had ended-
ay/xy-n 449-1066 JULIUS CAESAR, the great Roman pro- consul who finally made himself mas- ter of the Roman Empire, twice in- vaded Britain, in 55 and 54 b.c. He is the central figure in Shakespeare's famous play and in Bernard Shaw's Caesar and Cleopatra. Caesar was the first Roman to bring the "eagles" (Roman emblems of authority and power) to British shores. But he soon had to withdraw. It was not until almost a century later (a.d. 43) that the Emperor Claudius I really conquered Britain for Rome. During the Roman occupation of the island for a little over three centuries and a half, the wilder Celtic tribes retreated, fighting, to the hills of Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. But the Britons in southern Eng- land were brought under Roman rule. In Kipling's Puck of Pook's Hill a supposed Roman centurion of the thirtieth legion tells of those ancient days of the Roman occupa- tion. He speaks of the painted tribes of Picts, " little folk," against whom (in a.d. 150) the Roman Emperor Hadrian built a wall. From that time until the middle of the fourth century, this wall was the north- ern boundary of Britain. Having thus secured themselves against attack, the Romans built roads, drained swamps, and constructed villas and towns of stone. Their houses had sunken baths in the Roman fashion, even glass in the win- dows, and a kind of central heating. They saw to it that exports from British mines, farms, and looms increased. But, in a.d. 367, the northern Celts and Picts successfully stormed Hadrian's wall and overran England. Roman power, by that time, had begun to crumble, much as the Nazi power in occupied France crum- bled in World War II. .The Romans in Brit- ain were far from home, and the wild Ger- manic tribes — pressed southward by the hordes of Asia — were almost at the gates of Rome itself. Soon Rome was forced to give up its British province entirely, and the Roman colonists followed the legions home. ENGLAND GETS ITS NAME The story goes that Vortigern, a British ruler, in a.d. 449 invited the Jutes, from the peninsula of Jutland, to come to Britain and aid him against the wild northern Picts. Soon not only Jutes, but Saxons and Angles also, swarmed over the land. The present county names — Essex, Sussex, Wessex, and Middlesex — are contractions of East, South, West, and Middle Saxons. The Angles first settled in East Anglia, but soon spread so widely over the eastern half of the island that they gave their name to the en- tire country — England. Again the original Britons retired into Ireland, Wales, and the North and West of England. The Irish and Welsh retained their own Celtic languages, in which a rich store of legends developed. This folklore, however, was not translated into English until the late nineteenth cen- tury. In the sixth century the Christian Celts, still holding out in the North and West, are supposed to have rallied under the legendary King Arthur. At any rate, the
Foundations ofa Literature, 55 b.c-iooo a.d. DENMARK^ Scene of Beowulf 200 mi. ROMAN ROADS ^MONASTERIES KINO ALFRED
ANGLO-SAXON TRAITS Britons stubbornly resisted invasion. But finally the invaders conquered England and began to settle down fairly peacefully. ANGLO-SA.XON TRAITS The Angles and Saxons — in contrast to the Britons and Celts —were hard fight- ers, seafarers, scorners of danger. Likewise they loved great bouts of eating and drink- ing in the mead hall. In conflicts they were " tough customers." but at other times laz- ily good-natured. They had a thoroughly practical side that survives to this day in most Englishmen. They were stoical in the face of Fate, which they called Wyrd, and had also a poetic genius rising out of long acquaintance with harsh, forbidding land- scape, stormy seas, the mysten,- of nature, and the workings of circumstance which they could not fathom. Most important was the Anglo-Saxon's love of personal liberty. Although there were slaves among them, the Anglo-Saxon believed, as he does to this day, in maintain- ing his own personal rights. While the foundation of Roman civilization was largely the slave state, that of Anglo-Saxon civilization was largely the free man. The Anglo-Sa.xon believed firmly in his own su- periority. Almost immediately he began to call the native Britons Welisc (meaning " foreigners "). From this term, of course, come the words Welsh and Wales. GOVERNXrENT AND RELIGION OF THE SAXONS The Anglo-Saxon did not like towns or cities. Much of his land was shared in com- mon, and his government began with the village moot —a meeting called to talk things over. Today we use the word moot as having to do with discussion or debate — as " moot point," meaning one that may be argued. A small group of families was rep- resented by the town moot, a group of one hundred families by the hundred moot; the larger folk moot was really a gathering to- gether of the tribe for purposes of war. The folk moot elected the war chief and, later on, the king. The principal god of the Anglo-Saxons 29 was Woden, the war god. The names of sev- eral of the days of the week come from the Anglo-Saxon divinities: Tuesday (day of the dark god TIw), Wednesday (Woden's Day), Thursday (Thors day or the Day of Thunder), and Friday (Frigg's Day). Eas- ter also gets its name from their god of spring, Eostre. In the four principal kingdoms of .Anglo- Sa.xon England —Xorthumbria, Mercia. East Anglia. and that of the East and West Saxons — the people lived in small commu- nities, each centered about the somewhat glorified hut of the atheling. or lord, who was often designated as the " dispenser of treasure." Their houses were of rough logs, windowless, roofed with thatch, and notable chiefly as firetraps, for the fire was built in the center of the floor with no smoke vent other than a hole in the roof. SOCI.AL LIFE CEN-TERED IN THE ME.AD HALL With the passage of years and the in- crease of wealth the Saxon nobles built nu- merous mead halls, similar to the one de- scribed in Beowulf, the English national epic. Mead, the favorite drink of the war- riors, was a rich ale brewed from honey. After the hunt or fight the mighty thanes, or followers of the king, would gather in the central hall for rest, refreshment, and cele- bration. This hall was usually rectangular, its pointed roof being held up by two length- wise rows of pillars. Down the center of the floor ran a shallow trench in which the fires were built. Flanking the fires were two long tables, mere boards on trestles, removable when the feast was over : the thanes went to sleep on the raised tiers behind the pillars. At mealtimes the guests usually sat along the outer edge of the tables in order to face the fires. In the early days the mead was drunk from the horns of animals, but later from flagons of heay wood or metal. Great joints of meat, eaten with the aid of only fingers and a hunting knife, formed the main dish at the feast. In spite of all the crudeness of manner, there was yet a touch of dignified ceremony, as when the queen herself passed the mead cup to the warriors.
30 THE ANGLO-SAXON AGE After the feasting the chief entertainment was provided by the scop (Hterally '' a shaper "), or gleeman, who sang to the ac- companiment of his simple harp a stirring tale of some great hero. EARLY LITERATURE A favorite hero was Beowulf, the story of whose life forms the great epic of Anglo- Saxon literature. The old pagan poetry was passed from mouth to mouth by these scops, or gleemen, and was not put into writing until the establishment of Christian monasteries j'ears afterward. Only a little of it sur-ives. Some of the best is included in this book. There are two distinct periods of Anglo-Saxon literature: the pagan poetry of the fifth and sixth centuries and the Christian literature, both prose and poetry, from the seventh to the eleventh. The first has two qualities: sometimes a rather grim nature worship, and often the pervading gloom or melancholy of the Anglo-Saxon mind. THE ANGLO-SAXONS Toward the end of the sixth century Pope Gregory at Rome decided to try the power of Christian missionaries against the might of Thor and Woden and the Anglo-Saxon nature gods. It is said that as a bishop he had encountered certain fair-haired slaves in the Roman market place and, on being told their nationality, had exclaimed, " Not Angles, but angels! " In 597 he sent to Eng- land a small band of monks headed by Au- gustine, who later became the first Arch- bishop of Canterbury-. Augustine converted King Ethelbert of Kent and all his court, and about a thousand of Ethelbert's sub- jects were baptized. Augustine then built a church at Canterbury. Over a century later the Venerable Bede. " the father of our English learning " and the great prose writer of that time, told how the early English felt toward conversion. Here are the words of a Northumbrian noble: So, King, does the present Ufe of man on earth seem to me, in comparison with the time which is unknown to us, as though a sparrow flew swiftly through the hall, coming in by one door and going out by the other, and you, the while, sat at meat with your captains and liege- men, in wintr>' weather, with a fire burning in your midst and heating the room, the storm raging out of doors and dri-ing snow and rain before it. For the time for which he is within, the bird is sheltered from the storm, but after this short while of calm he flies out again into the cold and is seen no more. Thus the life of man is visible for a moment, but we know not what comes before it or follows after it. If, then, this new doctrine brings something more of cer- tainty, it deser-es to be followed. Later certain Christian Irish missionaries journeyed to the Northumbrian coast (see map, page 28) and established a chain of monasteries which became the chief center of literature for some time. One of the most celebrated was Whitby, under the Abbess Hilda: in another, Jarrow, the Venerable Bede lived and wrote. He tells how Caed- mon, an ignorant cowherd who lived at ^Miitby, fled once from a feast where he was required to sing. While he was crouching in a cowbyre, an angel appeared and com- manded him to sing. Thus he composed his most famous hymn. You can imagine him, after that, striding the wild, wind-swept headland above the North Sea as he com- posed his Bible chants. Although Bede wrote chiefly in Latin, he is considered our first writer of prose; and Caedmon is the first identified Anglo-Saxon poet. Both of them were Northumbrian. ALFRED RESISTS THE DANES Though an earlier king had claimed sov- ereignty over all England, it was not until 871 that the nation was really united under an able ruler. King Alfred of Wessex (849- 901). His was undoubtedly the strongest personality of the Anglo-Saxon period. Known as Alfred the Great, he was a com- bination of bold warrior, wise ruler, astute lawmaker, foresighted educator, and ver- satile man of letters. In his youth a journey to Rome gave him ideas concerning a better civilization for his own country. Upon his accession to the throne the Danes were an
ALFRED RESISTS THE DANES immediate and terrible menace. They had already invaded Wessex and were sweepinii down on all England. These hated North- men, the Vikings, were the most daring sailors of that day. They voyaged in small shield-walled black skiffs with lug .sails, forty warriors to a ship, which was steered by a long steering-sweep. These dreaded black ships crept up peaceful rivers and left behind them the smoking ruins of homes. To combat this enemy, .Alfred built large ships — the beginning of the English navy. He also developed a well-organized army. The Danes hated Christianity and all its evidences. They plundered and razed the monasteries of Lindisfarne, Jarrow. Mel- rose, and Whitby, destroying many manu- scripts. They crushed Anglo-Saxon litera- ture in the North, where it had chiefly existed. Finally they came to rule England, until they were defeated by Alfred. In cele- bration of this victory over the Danes, a White Horse, the emblem of the English at that time, was carved in the chalky subsoil of a steep hillside in Berkshire. In his long poem " The Ballad of the White Horse," Gilbert K. Chesterton gives this stirring description of Alfred's heroic stand: A MKI.NG. Fiircc fighting men, like this one, often pillaged the eastern shore of Britain. (Culver Service) The Northmen came about our land A Christless chivalry: Who knew not of the arch or pen. Great, beautiful, half-witted men From the sunrise and the sea. Misshapen ships stood on the deep Full of strange gold and fire, And hairy men as huge as sin. With horned heads, came wading in Through the long, low sea-mire. Then Alfred, King of England, Bade blow the horns of war, And flung the Golden Dragon out, With crackle and acclaim and shout, Scrolled and aflame and far. " Brothers at arms," said Alfred, " On this side lies the foe. Are slavery and starvation flowers That you should pluck them so? " Or that before the red cock crow, All we, a thousand strong. Go down the dark road to God's house, Singing a Wessex song? " When .Alfred's word was ended. Stood firm that feeble line. Each in his place with club or spear, And fury deeper than deep fear, And smiles as sour as brine. Wild stared the Danes at the double ways W'here they loitered, all at large, As that dark line for the last time Doubled the knee to charge — • And caught their weapons clumsily, And marvelled how and why — In such degree, by rule and rod, The people of the peace of God Went roaring down to die.
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Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf
Adventures In English Literature.Pdf

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Adventures In English Literature.Pdf

  • 4. Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive in 2010 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/adventuresinenglingOOingl
  • 5.
  • 6. :-lG JOHN SEALING THE MAGNA CARTA by Ernest Xor- mand. A stirring theme in both the history and literature of England is the struggle lor indi-idual liberty. The signing of the Magna Carta by King John in 1215 marked the first great Wctory in that struggle. Ernest Normand (1S57-1923) was a distinguished painter of historical subjects. (Art Education, Inc., X. Y.)
  • 7. Ajn iloA/ltiVVL REWEY BELLE INGLIS FORMERLY UNIVERSITY HIGH SCHOOL MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA AJ-iIVjUj l^JliV^lJ-jlA l^vjljr ll/rV SAN FRANCISCO JUNIOR COLLEGE SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA CELIA OPPENHEIMER WILLIAM ROSE BENET WOODROW WILSON HIGH SCHOOL WASHINGTON, D.C. THE SATURDAY REVIEW OF LITERATURE NEW YORK CITY FOURTH -t y-4 Q EDITION ISlew York HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY Chicago
  • 8. U PREFACE 3. The novel is more adequately presented than before, with unit selections from major novels by Scott, Dickens, and Thackeray. Twentieth-century novelists are still represented by complete short stories or plays, but their importance in the develop- ment of the longer fictional form is emphasized in the chapter on the English novel, to which many recent titles have been added. 4. Several changes have been made in content and organization in order to facil- itate the presentation of the work of major authors, both past and present. The works of each of these have been placed together instead of being scattered among vari- ous type areas. Discussions of their literary standing — previously appearing in the introductory chapter to each period —have been combined with the biographical sketches into a unified introduction immediately preceding the selections. Thus the student is saved the confusion of piecing together the various parts in order to obtain the total picture. The chapters introducing each period now explain the general historical and so- cial trends, and sketch in the salient facts of English literary history against this background rather than characterize individual authors. In addition, the introductory chapters have been simplified by the omission of minor historical characters and events, and greater emphasis has been placed on social and cultural influences, lead- ing to a better understanding of the selections, 5. The pronunciation, as well as the meanings, of allusions and technical or for- eign words has been included in the footnotes. This should prove to be an effective timesaver for both student and teacher, since it eliminates the necessity for turning to the back of the book for essential information. 6. Editorial material and illustrative material have been revised throughout. Four new full-page drawings by Herbert Gute, a completely revised set of illustrated maps by George R. Bell, several new color plates, and many new photographs contribute greatly to the appearance of the book. The time charts, which classroom use has proved to be effective visual-teaching devices, have been retained and revised. All the reading and reference lists have been revised and new titles have been added. 7. In the suggestions for study, the caption " For Ambitious Students " no longer appears, since it was not always welcomed. The best of the questions that appeared under that heading have been retained, however, and it would be well for the teacher to remember that not all students should be expected to carry out all of the study suggestions. The more difficult or more specialized questions and problems are found toward the end of each set. 8. .All material that is handled in footnotes has been removed from the glossary, making the glossary' word list a more adequate basis for vocabulary building. It must be emphasized, however, that only the meaning pertinent to the selection in which the word appears is given in the glossary'. . regular dictionary should be consulted
  • 9. PREFACE in for a rounded study of any individual word, or for clues to the meaning of the word in other contexts. With these many improvements, the editors believe that students and teachers alike will find deeper satisfaction and a richer reward in the hours spent in studying or teaching this volume. JNIay we remind you that Adventures in English Literature takes its place with the four other books in the Adventure Series to provide a flexible course for senior high-school English classes. The editors are grateful for the many valuable criticisms that have come both from teachers and from students, not only for the improvement of this edition, but also for the strengthening of the earlier editions on which this volume is based. More specific mention of their contribution is made in the " Acknowledgments." The Editors
  • 10.
  • 11. iilimti BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC i Midnight on the Desert j. b. priestley ' i The River of Stars alfred noyes 5 My America john buchan 8 Britain and the Bombings allan ne'ins 13 Ue in the Darl^ and Listen noel coward ,/f8 Sea Fei/er john masefield f 19 The Seafarer (Anglo-Saxon poem) / 20 HERE IS ENGLAND ^— 23 THE ANGLO-SAXON AGE 27 Beoiftdf (^ THE PERIOD OF MIDDLE ENGLISH 49 *Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 64 E.'VRLY ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH BALLADS ']0 Bonnie George Campbell 70 Lord Randal 71 Kathrine Jaffray 72 Bonny Barbara Allan 73 Sir Patrick Spens 73 Get Up and Bar the Door 74 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 75 ^Prologue to The Canterbury Tales 77 Selection from the Prologue 86 *Nun's Priest's Tale of Chaunticleer and Pertelote 89 Complaint of Chaucer to His Empty Purse 94 SIR THOMAS ^LLORY 95 *Le Morte d'Arthur 95 * modernized
  • 12. VI CONTENTS THE ELIZABETHAN AGE EDMUND SPENSER Selected Stanzas from The Faerie Queene CHRISTOPHER M.VRLOWE The Passionate Shepherd to His Love WALTER RALEIGH The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd WILLIAM SHAKESPE.ARE THE SONGS OF SHAKESPEARE Three Songs jrom The Tempest Under the Greenwood Tree Har, Har. the Lar}(^ O Mistress Mine Come Away, Death Who Is Sylvia? SONNETS l8. 29. 30, 65. 73. 116 MACBETH BEN JONSON To Celia Hymn to Diana The Noble Nature To the Memory of My Beloved Master William Shakespeare FRANCIS BACON Of Studies Of Revenge THE ENGLISH BIBLE Naaman the Leper (II Kings 5) The Ideal Wife (Proverbs ?/) The Prodigal Son (Lue /i) But the Greatest of These Is Charity (I Corinthians 75) Psalm 1, 121 Ecclesiastes 12
  • 13. CONTENTS Vll PURITAN AND RESTORATION PERIOD 197 CAVALIER LYRICS GEORGE WITHER 2o8 Shall I, Wasting in Despair 208 ROBERT HERRICK 208 Counsel to Girls 209 SIR JOHN SUCKLING 2O9 The Constant Lover 209 Song from Aglaura 209 RICHARD LOVELACE 210 To Althea. from Prison . 210 To Lucasta, Going to the Wars 210 JOHN MILTON 21] LAllegro 213 II Penseroso 215 On His Having Arrived at the Age of Twenty-three 218 On Shal{espeare 218 On His Blindness 218 Paradise Lost (from Book I) 219 JOHN DRYDEN 226 Alexander's Feast, or The Power of Music 226 JOHN BUNYAN 229 The Pilgrim's Progress: Vanity Fair 230 SAMUEL PEPYS 235 Diary of Pepys 236 THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 243 THE AGE OF POPE 256 ALEXANDER POPE 256 The Rape of the Locl{ 257 Famous Quotations from Pope 7.6t, JONATHAN SWIFT 265 Gulliver's Travels: The Voyage to Lilliput 266 RICHARD STEELE 27 1 The Tatler: Prospectus 272
  • 14. CONTENTS JOSEPH ADDISON 273 The spectator 274 Sir Roger at Church 274 Sir Roger at the Theater 276 The Coquette's Heart 278 Party Feeling 280 Hymn 282 DANIEL DEFOE 283 The Journal of the Plague Year 283 THE AGE OF JOHNSON 286 SAMUEL JOHNSON 286 Definitions from Johnson's Dictionary 288 Letter to Lord Chesterfield 288 JAMES BOSWELL 289 The Life of Samuel Johnson 289 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 295 The Deserted Village 295 Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog 302 FORERUNNERS OF ROMANTIC POETRY 302 THOMAS GRAY 302 Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard 303 WILLIAM COWPER 306 Light Shining out of Darl^ness 307 WILLIAM BLAKE 3O7 The Tiger 307 ROBERT BURNS 308 My Heart's in the Highlands 310 Sweet Afton 310 TheBans o' Doon 311 To Mary in Heaven 311 John Anderson, My Jo 312 Oh, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast 312 Bannocl{burn 312 A Man's a Man for a' That 313
  • 15. CONTENTS IX ROBERT BURNS (cOnt'd) To a Mouse 313 To a Louse 314 The Cotter's Saturday Night 315 rHE ENGLISH NOVEL " 325 PHE AGE OF ROMANTICISM ' 335 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 343 Lines Written in Early Spring 344 The Tables Turned 344 To a Skylark^ {180$) 345 To a Skylark^ (-^^25) 345 She Was a Phantom of Delight 346 Westminster Bridge . 346 The World Is Too Much with Us 346 London (1802) 347 Scorn Not the Sonnet 347 Lines Composed a Few Miles aboue Tintern Abbey 348 My Heart Leaps Up 352 Intimations of Immortality 352 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 358 The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 359 Kubla Khan 375 CHARLES LAMB . 376 Dream Children 377 A Dissertation upon Roast Pig 379 WALTER SCOTT 384 Ketiilworth: Walter Raleigh Climbs to Knighthood 385 Proud Maisie 391 ]ocl{ o' Hazeldean 391 GEORGE GORDON, LORD B'iTlON 392 She Wall{s in Beauty 393 The Destruction of Sennacherib 393 Stanzas Written on the Road between Florence and Pisa 394 Sonnet on Chilian 395 The Prisoner of Chilian 395 Apostrophe to the Ocean 400
  • 16. X, CONTENTS PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 402 To flight 403 The Cloud 403 To a SI{ylar 405 Ode to the West Wind 407 Ozymandias 410 When the Lamp Is Shattered 410 A hament 411 A Dirge 411 JOHN KEATS 412 On First Loo/{ing into Chapman's Homer 413 When I Haue Fears 413 The Mermaid Tavern 413 La Belle Dame Sans Merci 414 Ode on a Grecian Urn 415 Ode to a Nightingale 416 The Eve of St. Agnes 418 Bright Star 427 THREE FAMOUS POEMS 429 ROBERT SOUTHEY 429 The Battle of Blenheim 429 THOMAS MOORE 43O The Light of Other Days 430 THOMAS HOOD 43O The Song of the Shirt 431 THE VICTORIAN AGE 435 THOMAS CARLYLE 445 The French Revolution: The Fall of the Bastille 446 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 449 A History of England: 449 London Streets 450 London Coffeehouses 451 JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 454 The Educated Man 454 The Gentleman 455
  • 17. CONTENTS XI THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY 45^ A Liberal Education 456 ALFRED TENNYSON 459 Flower in the Crannied Wall 4^ The Eagle 4"° The Bugle Song [. 4^ Tears, Idle Tears 4"i The Lady of Shalott 4^1 Ulysses 4^4 Loc^sley Hall: A Prophecy 4^5 Brea]{, Break,, Break, 4^5 In Memoriam: Proem; xxvii, liv, cvi 466 In the Valley of Cauteretz 4^ Crossing the Bar 4^^ ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 47° Sonnets from the Portuguese, i, w, xrv, xliii 471 ROBERT BROWNING 473 Song from Pippa Passes 473 Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along; Give a Rouse; Boot and Saddle 473 Home Thoughts, from the Sea 475 Home Thoughts, from Abroad 476 Memorabilia 47^ My Last Duchess 477 Up at a Villa — Down in the City 478 Love among the Ruins 480 Rabbi Ben Ezra 482 Prospice 4^5 CHARLES DICKENS 4^^ Pickwick Papers: Mr. Pickwick on the Ice 489 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 493 Vanity Fair: Becky Opens Her Campaign 494 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 5°^ The House of Life: The Sonnet, Silent Noon, Spring 506 The Sea Limits 508 The Woodspurge 5°^
  • 18. XU CONTENTS CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI 509 A Birthday 509 Remember 509 ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 5O9 A Match 510 When the Hounds of Spring 511 FOUR FAMOUS POEMS 512 MATTHEW ARNOLD 512 Dover Beach 512 LEWIS CARROLL 513 A Sea Dirge 513 WILLIAM SCHWENK GILBERT 514 A Nightmare 514 WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY 516 Invictus 516 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 517 Requiem 518 My Wife 518 El Dorado 518 Marl{^heim /^2o THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 533 THOMAS HARDY 545 yTony Kytes, the Arch-Deceiver CS^ Weathers 551 Afterward 551 In Time of " The Breaking of Nations " 552 The Darling Thrush 552 RUDYARD KIPLING 553 jMiss Youghal's Sais (554~) Recessional 557 Tommy 557 Boots 558 The Explorer 559 The Ballad of East and West 561 L'Envoi 564
  • 19. CONTENIS XUl GILBERT K. CHESTERTON Lepanto The Invisible Man TWENTIETH-CENTURY DRAMA JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE Riders to the Sea JOHN GALSWORTHY Strife JAMES M. BARRIE The Old Lady Shows Her Medals TWENTIETH-CENTURY SHORT STORIES 642 JOSEPH CONRAD ' 642 The Lagoon 643 H. G. WELLS 651 The Stolen Bacillus (^5^ ARNOLD BENNETT 656 VThe Silent Brothers (^^ SAKI (h. H. MUNRo) 665 The Open Window ^5 W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM ^f l The Verger (U.<;-;f~ 668 KATHERINE MANSFIELD 672 Miss Brill 672 TWENTIETH-CENTURY POETRY 676 ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN 676 Reveille &j6 Loveliest of Trees 677 When I Was One-and-Tii'enty 677 With Rue My Heart Is Laden 677 /;; Battle Smoke 677 WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 677 The Lake Isle of Innisfrec 678
  • 20. Xiv CONTENTS WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS (cODt'd) The Fiddler of Dooney 6yS The Song of the Old Mother 679 An Irish Airman Foresees His Death 679 The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart 679 When You Are Old 679 Into the Twilight 679 WALTER DE LA MARE 68o Silver The Listeners Miss Loo Bunches of Grapes Nicholas Nye The Scarecrow JOHN MASEFIELD 683 A Consecration 683 Laugh and Be Merry 684 Dauber: Rounding the Horn 685 ALFRED NOYES 686 A Song of Sherwood 687 The Admiral's Ghost 689 The Barrel Organ FRANCIS THOMPSON To a Snowflakj; WILFRID WILSON GIBSON The Stone JAMES STEPHENS In Waste Places SIEGFRIED SASSOON Aftermath RUPERT BROOKE The Great Lover The Soldier HERBERT ASQUITH Youth in the SI{ies
  • 21. CONTENTS XV W. H. AUDEN 701 The Un/^nown Citizen 702 STEPHEN SPENDER 702 The Express 703 The Landscape Near an Airdrome 703 Statistics 704 TWENTIETH CENTURY NON-FICTION PROSE ' 7O5 H. M. TOMLINSON 7O5 The Master 706 ALDOUS HUXLEY 708 Comfort 708 LYTTON STRACHEY 714 Queen Victoria's Accession 715 VIRGINIA WOOLF 721 Flush Meets His Rival 721 THOMAS BURKE 725 A Boy's Awakening 726 PHILIP GUEDALLA 733 Mr. Churchill's War 733 WINSTON CHURCHILL 738 The Miracle of Dun/{ir/^ 739 J. B. PRIESTLEY 744 A City Invincible 744
  • 22. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC Although a vast ocean separates England and America, the two countries are bound together by their common literature. Tom Saver is as real to Englishmen as he is to Americans; and Americans enjoy Mr. Picltwick as lully as do the English themselves.
  • 23. r^ THEadventures in fhi's volume wiJI take us across the ocean io a land in which manners and cis.om% are somewhat different from our own. They will also take us into the distant past and return us gradu- ally to the present. Too sudden a plunge into the more intensive part ot this study might leave us breathless: so let us build a bridge across the Atlantic by reading briefly some British ^vriters who are close to us in both time and place. All of these writers but one are living today, and all of them have known America from experience. We can thus start out on familiar ground, just as an airplane warms up on the runway before taking off into space. The first three writers here represented have known America intimately. They have not been merely casual visitors attempting to interpret our nation after a three weeks' stay, as British lecturers are sometimes re- puted to do. These men have traveled here extensively. They have brought their families for periods of residence. Here they have writ- ten and published books, and here they have worked at other chosen professions. They are important links between the English-speaking nations on both sides of the Atlantic; what they say about America is well worth reading. The Erst of these three is J. B. Priestley. He uses ;ust his initials — /. B. — so consistently that few of his readers could mention the names they stand for — John Boynton. In his twenties he sened in France throughout World War I and, while convalescing from wounds, published his first essays. Later at Cambridge he went into journalism seriously, and his life has been devoted to literature. He has written prolifically in almost every type. His novels and plavs are well known to the American public, but he is at his best in a book of obsen'ation and comment. His Eng- lish Journey is the truest picture we have of England in the 1930's. In Midnight on the Desert the scene is Arizona; and the com- ments are full of interest to Americans, whether he discusses football, Holh^vood, newspaper reporters, or the Grand Canyon. Let us read a hit from Chapter I of that book. Here the author not only gives us the " feel " of the desert but shows the power of imagina- tion to transport us into new surroundings — a power that we shall be using throughout our adventures in English hterature. MIDNIGHT ON THE DESERT J. B. PRIESTLEY Let me begin with what I can remember quite clearly. It was at the end of my stay on the ranch in Arizona, last winter. We were not leaving America yet, but we were leaving this ranch very soon and I had things to do. There was the usual accumu- lated litter of letters and odd papers to be gone through, and most of it destroyed. But that was not all. I had decided during the evening to burn certain chapters, many thousands of words, of the book I had been writing. I felt I must do this at once, for I am not a resolute man and do not trust my- self. (But I wish I knew which I really am, the one who distrusts or the one who is dis- trusted. There's the problem.) Yes, thou- sands and thousands of words would have to go, along with the rubbish; good words.
  • 24. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC all arranged to make sound sense, and with a cash value in the market, and represent- ing, too. something more than money — time, precious and priceless time, of which, thev say, only so much is allotted to each of us. I dare not wait for morning. Midnight was the hour for such a deed. I left the patio, where we were housed, for the little hut that was my working place. I remember a particularly fine glitter of stars, with no moon and with the desert hills so much starless indigo at the base of the sky. A freight train was clanking down the valley. It gave that long, dissonant, mourn- ful cr' of .merican trains, that sound which seems to light up for a second the immense distances and loneliness of that country. I had to do some lighting up myself, with a torch, in order to pick my way past prickly pear and cholla and catclaw and other hook- ing and spiny growths, vindictive by day and devilish so late at night. The hut was in a little thicket. The sand between the curled dead leaves glittered in the light of my torch, and that would be the specks of fool's gold with which all these dry river beds and their banks are gilded. It looks much prettier than real gold. Someday per- haps it will be worth quite as much as real gold. An enormous silence had followed the train — an ironical silence, like that which comes at the end of some noisy epoch. They kept early hours at the ranch, except when there was a dance at El Recreo: and there was nobody stirring anywhere, and not a sound even from the coyotes. In the silence, slowly picking my way, I thought about this .Arizona country. The Xew World 1 It seemed to me the oldest country I have ever seen, the real antique land, first cousin to the moon. Brown, bony, sapless, like an old man's hand. We called it new because it was not thick with history, not a museum and guidebook place. Man had been here such a little time that his arrival had not yet been acknowledged. He was still some season's trifling accident, like a sudden abundance of coyotes or cottontails. The giant saguaro cactus, standing like a sentinel on every knoll, was not on the lookout for us, had not heard of us yet, still waited for tram- pling dinosaurs. There is no history here because history is too recent. This country is geology by day and astronomy at night. It offers a broad view of what is happening generally in the solar system, with no par- ticular reference to Man. But it has a mag- nificent routine. The early mornings, in winter, are cold, very fresh, and pure. Then, under the burning noons, the red cardinals and the bluebirds flash among the cotton- woods, as if nature had turned outrageously symbolic. The afternoons are simply so much sunlight and aromatic air. But at sun- set the land throws up pink summits and saw-toothed ridges of amethj'st, and there are miracles of fire in the sky. Night un- covers two million more stars than you have ever seen before: and the planets are not points, but globes. As I reached the door of my hut and switched off my torch, I looked up and noticed yet once again, with a shrinking sense of unfamiliarity, how all the constellations had been monstrously mis- placed. I was far from home. I was not homesick. That is bad: but there is an easy cure for it, if you have the freedom, the money, the passport. You go back to your own place, and all is well. But I was beginning to feel homeless, not homesick. I had spent all the autumn and the winter in America, and not as a lonely traveler, whose home life is going on some- where else, but mostly with my family. Thus I seemed to have detached myself from England. This was quite involuntary; it just happened. The island no longer ap- peared to be the center of the universe. The newspapers that came to me regularly from England now seemed to me as full of quaint fusses and snobberies as they must do to an American reader. Yet I had not had time to throw out any roots in America. Its life, so nervous and strident, so strange a mix- ture of kindness and cruelty, was still un- familiar. I was not part of the scene there. Nothing that happened really came home to me. I was deeply interested, but it was all none of my business. I read their newspapers
  • 25. MIDNIGHT ON THE DESERT J. B. PRIESTLEY. Here is an Englishman who knows America almost as well as he knows England. Usually the American editions of his books outsell the English editions. (World Wide Photos) every morning — and they were black with crises — but none of their news was my news. I was temporarily a man without a country and a background. Not much harm in that — perhaps if the whole lot of us suddenly found ourselves without countries and backgrounds, there might be much good — but the sensation was new to me and I felt curiously withdrawn, into a dreamy emptiness. Perhaps it made for egoism. We shall see. The two naked electric bulbs in my hut sharply illuminated its tiny interior, no more than twelve feet by ten of unpainted boards —-with many a knothole in them, now velvety with night. There were the rough shelves with their litter of books, tins of tobacco, pipes, and letters I had never answered; the two small tables, one for my typewriter, the other for odds and ends; the straight little chair, too small in the seat, I used when t^^ping, and the arm- chair with its little square of red and black Indian rug; and the two other Indian rugs on the floor, the woven wastepaper basket. the box of firewood, and the small tin stove — only waiting for a match to be thrown in to shake and roar and be red-hot. Yes, and waiting for anything else I might give it, such as a folder or two of typescript. See- ing everything in there so clearly, all those familiar things of my working day, I felt apologetic. I had come to destroy, not to create; though such destnjction might be a better kind of creation. This hut was a witness to the admirable spirit of Western America, and p)erhaps of all these states. When I had first stayed £)n the ranch, the winter before, I had found it hard to work in my bedroom in the patio, where people were always moving about and calling to one another. What I needed was a little place of my own to work in, well away from the main ranch buildings. So as soon as I came back, for a longer stay, up went this shack, and within a day or two it had its book shelves, stove, and electric light. Nothing very wonderful about all this. It was easily erected, and of course I paid for it. But I feel that in any European coun-
  • 26. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC try there would have been endless palavers and fusses, whole crops of difficulties raised, before one would have had a brand-new place to work in, if indeed one would have persisted in the face of a mountain of objec- tions. Here, in the Far West, it was done so casually and quickly. " You bet ! " they cried, and went ahead. Perhaps it is sheer space that makes the difference. What seems obvious and easy in the vast crystalline spaces of Arizona may well appear a tricky enterprise in shuttered Europe. This shack was built on the very edge of a river I had never yet seen, the Hassayampa, which only appears — as a sudden yellow flood — to- ward the end of summer. If you drink its waters, they say, you are forever afterward incapable of telling the truth. But the win- ter visitor does not even see them. This had been a good place to work in. I ask for noth- ing better. Sometimes in the mornings, be- fore the sun commanded the scene, it had been rather cold and cheerless; and often later in the mornings and during the blaz- ing afternoons it had been too warm, for there was only one layer of thin boards be- tween me and the weather. But it had been my own place, and quiet —except for an occasional bird that would come to the win- dow, knock with its beak, and stare at me as if we were meeting in Eden. The little hut had served me well. I had spent most of my time in there, writing a novel about London. With the door and the two windows wide open ; a thin curtain drawn to dull the bright shaft of sunlight; wearing nothing but a shirt, old flannel trousers, and slippers, I would sit in a sweet cloud of American tobacco smoke, peer through it at my script, and tap-tap away at my account of life in the rain and fog of London streets. There in the middle of my hut, with Arizona glittering around it for hundreds of miles, was a tiny dark Lon- don, into which I popped every morning about ten. When people tell you how lucky you are to be a professional writer, they enumerate advantages that you know very well are things not worth having; but they never mention this genuine bit of luck, that you can sit in Arizona and build for your- self a London that has just the people, streets, houses, and weather you need, and can then, months afterward, sit in Highgate on a dark wet Monday morning and conjure for yourself the bright illimitable spaces of the Arizona desert. True, other people can do this; but they must do it on their own time, for their own amusement — they are not at liberty to call it work. And it is a dark wet Monday morning this morning, and I am sitting in Highgate —working. Doesn't the student share this good Juci; that /. B. Priestley claims foi the piofessioiial writer? For you, too, are at liberty to call this conjuring up of " bright illimitable spaces " work — schoohvork. Here you are sitting in a study hall or your own room — working! And where are we going next? To Niagara Falls, that American phenomenon oi nature that all Europeans are most curious to see when they come to this country. Its mighty rush oi waters caught the imagination oi Alfred Noyes, the English poet who has won friends all over America by his extended lecture tours. Noyes loves the legendary past. Through his many ballads and tales — you surely know " The Highwayman " — he has brought back the Hie oi long ago. In his recent volume Poems of the New World he has done for America what he did earlier for England. Niagara, for example, is made the setting oi an Indian tale, " a cr}' from the years that are flown," retold in the swinging meter charac- teristic oi Noyes.
  • 27. Till- RIVHR OF STARS RIVER OF STARS. Niagara Falls provided inspiration for this exciting Alfred Noyes poem. The Falls, half American and half Canadian, symbolize another kind of bridge between the English speaking peoples. (Press Association) THE RIVER OF STARS (A Tale of Niagara) ALFRED NOYES The lights of a hundred cities are fed by its midnight power. Their wheels are moved by its thunder. But they, too, have their hour. The tale of the Indian lovers, a cry from the years that are flown, While the river of stars is rolling, Rolling away to the darkness. Abides with the power in the midnight, where love may find its own. She watched from the Huron tents, till the first star shook in the air. The sweet pine scented her fawnskins, and breathed from her braided hair. Her crown was of milk-white bloodroot, because of the tryst she would keep, Beyond the river of beautj' That drifted away in the darkness, Drawing the sunset through lilies, with eyes like stars, to the deep.
  • 28. 6 BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC He matched, like a tall young wood-god. from the red pine that she named; But not for the peril behind him. where the e'es of the ISIohawks flamed. Eagle-plumed he stood. But his heart was hunting afar, Where the river of longing whispered . . . And one swift shaft from the darkness Felled him, her name in his death cr}-. his eyes on the sunset star. She stole from the river and listened. The moon on her wet skin shone. As a silver birch in the pine wood, her beauty flashed and was gone. There was no wave in the forest. The dark arms closed her round. But the river of life went flowing. Flowing away to the darkness. For her breast grew red with his heart's blood, in a night where the stars were drowned. Teach me, my lover, as you taught me of love in a day, Teach me of death, and forever, and set my feet on the way To the land of the happy shadows, the land where you are flown. And the river of death went weeping. Weeping awaj' to the darkness. — Is the hunting good, my lover, so good that you hunt alone? She rose to her feet like a shadow. She sent a en,- through the night, Sa-sa-kuon, the death whoop, that tells of triumph in fight. It broke from the bell of her mouth like the cr>' of a wounded bird, But the river of agony swelled it, And swept it along to the darkness, And the ^lohawks, crouched in the darkness, leapt to their feet as they heard. Close as the ring of the clouds that menace the moon with death. At once they circled her round. Her bright breast panted for breath. With only her own wild glon.- keeping the wolves at bay, While the river of parting whispered, Whispered away to the darkness. She looked in their eyes for a moment, and strove for a word to say. Teach me, O my lover.' — She set her foot on the dead. She laughed on the painted faces with the rings of yellow and red ^ / thank you, wolves of the Mohawk, for a woman's hands might fail, — And the river of vengeance chuckled, Chuckled away to the darkness. — But ye have killed where I hunted. I have come to the end of my trail. I thank you, braves of the Mohawk, who laid this thief at my feet. He tore my heart out living, and tossed it his dogs to eat. Ye have taught him of death in a moment, as he taught me of love in a day. —^ And the river of passion deepened. Deepened and rushed to the darkness. — And yet may a woman requite you, and set your feet on the way.
  • 29. THE RIVER OF STARS For the woman that spits in my face, and the shaven heads that gibe, This night shall a woman show you the tents of the Huron tribe. They are lodged in a deep valley. With all things good it abounds. Where the red-eyed, green-mooned river Glides like a snake to the darkness, I will show you a valley, Mohawks, like the Happy Hunting Grounds. Follow! They chuckled, and followed like wolves to the glittering stream. Shadows obeying a shadow, they launched their canoes in a dream. Alone, in the first, with the blood on her breast, and her milk-white crown, She stood. She smiled at them, Follow, Then urged her canoe to the darkness. And, silently flashing their paddles, the Mohawks followed her down. And now — as they slid through the pine woods with their peaks of midnight blue, She heard, in the broadening distance, the deep sound that she knew, A mutter of steady thunder that grew as they glanced along; But ever she glanced before them And danced away to the darkness. And or ever they heard it rightly, she raised her voice in a song: — The wind from the Isles of the Blessed, it blows across the foam. It sings in the flowing maples of the land that was my home. Where the moose is a morning's hunt, and the buffalo feeds from the hand. — — And the river of mockery broadened. Broadened and rolled to the darkness — And the green maize lifts its feathers, and laughs the snow from the land. The river broadened and quickened. There was nought but river and sky. The shores were lost in the darkness. She laughed and lifted a cry: Follow me! Sa-sa-kuon! Swifter and swifter they swirled — And the flood of their doom went flying. Flying away to the darkness. Follow me, follow me, Mohawks! Ye are shooting the edge of the world. They struggled like snakes to return. Like straws they were whirled on her track. For the whole flood swooped to that edge where the unplumbed night dropt black, The whole flood dropt to a thunder in an unplumbed hell beneath, And over the gulf of the thunder A mountain of spray from the darkness Rose and stood in the heavens, like a shrouded image of death. She rushed like a star before them. The moon on her glorying shone. Teach me, O my lover, — her cry flashed out and was gone. A moment they battled behind her. They lashed with their paddles and lunged; Then the Mohawks, turning their faces Like a blood-stained cloud to the darkness. Over the edge of Niagara swept together and plunged.
  • 30. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC And the lights of a hundred cities are fed by the ancient power; But a cry returns with the midnight; for they, too, have their hour. Teach me, O my lover, as you taught me of love in a day, —While the river of stars is rolling, Rolling away to the darkness, — Teach me of death, and forever, and set my feet on the way! Niagara Falls may be called a s^inbol of the hiendship beh'een Canada and the United States. Both countries onn part of this massive uaterfaJI, and near it the famous Peace Bridge spanning the Niagara Rier links the two nations. In fact. Canada itself is Uke a bridge hetneen the United States and England. Part of the British Empire, vet an independent dominion, Canada has main- tained ties with the Old World while deel- oping a way of life more nearly aiin to ours. Jt is interesting, therefore, to read what a Go'ernor General of Canada. Lord Tweeds- muir, has to sav in an essay he calls " Aly America." Before he acquired the dignity- of this position and, at the same time, the title of nohilitw he was plain John Buchan — a natie of Perth. Scotland. He had worked his wav through Glasgow and O.vford unier- sities: had been a director of information in World War I; and had produced an impos- ing arrav of sixt- books, many of them lively historical and adventure noeIs. After only Gve years in ofEce as Goernor GeneraJ he died suddenly in 1940 as the result of a fall. He had just completed the manuscript of Pilgrim's Wav. n'hich he said was not an auto- biography- but an " essav in recollection." In this book appears " Iv America," with its stimulating picture of ouiseh'es as others see us. MY AMERICA JOHN BUCHAN (Lord Tweedsmiiir') I first discovered .America through books. Not the tales of Indians and the Wild West which entranced my boyhood ; those seemed to belong to no particular quarter of the globe, but to an indefinable land of ro- mance, and I was not cognizant of any na- tion behind them. But when I became in- terested in literature I came strongly under the spell of New England. Its culture seemed to me to include what was best in Europe's, winnowed and clarified. Perhaps it was especially fitted to attract youth : for it was not too difficult or too recondite, but followed the " main march of the human affections." and it had the morning fresh- ness of a young people. Its cheerfulness atoned for its occasional bleakness and anemia. Lowell was the kind of critic I wanted, learned, rational, never freakish, alwaj-s intelligible. Emerson's gnomic wis- dom was a sound manual for adolescence, and of Thoreau I became —and for long remained —an ardent disciple. To a Scot of my upbringing there was something con- genial in the simplicity, the mUd austerity, and the girded discipline of the New Eng- land tradition. I felt that it had been de- rived from the same sources as our own. Then, while I was at O.xford, I read Colo- nel Henderson's Stonewall Jackson and be- came a student of the American Ci'il War. I cannot say what especially attracted me to that campaign: partly, no doubt, the ro- mance of it. the chivalrj' and the supreme heroism; partly its extraordinary technical interest, both military' and political: but chiefly, I think, because I fell in love with the protagonists. I had found the kind of man that I could wholeheartedly admire. Since those days my study of the Ci%-il War has continued. I have ^•isited most of its battlefields, I have followed the trail of its great marches. I have often read widely in its literature: indeed my memon.' has be- come so stored with its details that I have often found myself able to tell the descend- ants of its leaders facts about their fore- bears of which thev had never heard.
  • 31. MY AMERICA PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS OF CANADA. Here is the seat of government of our nearest pood neighbor. John Buchan was Governor General of Canada for five years. (World Wide Photos) My interest soon extended from the sol- diers to the civilians, and I acquired a new admiration for Abraham Lincoln. Then it was enlarged to include the rest of Ameri- ca's history — the first settlements, the crossing of the Appalachians, the Revolu- tion, the building of the West. Soon Amer- ica, instead of being the unstoried land which it appears to most English travelers, became for me the home of a long tradition and studded with sacred places. I dare to say that no American was ever more thrilled by the prospect of seeing Westminster Ab- bey and the Tower, Winchester and Oxford, than I was by the thought of Valley Forge and the Shenandoah and the Wilderness. I came first into the United States by the way of Canada — a good way to enter, for English eyes are already habituated to the shagginess of the landscape and can begin to realize its beauties. iMy first reflection was that no one had told me how lovely the country was. I mean lovely, not vast and magnificent. I am not thinking of the Grand Canyon and the Yosemite and the Pacific coast, but of the ordinary rural landscape. There is much of the land which I have not seen, but in the East and the South and the Northwest I have collected a gallery of de- lectable pictures. I think of the farms which are clearings in the Vermont and New Hampshire hills, the flowery summer mea- dows, the lush cow pastures with an occa- sional stump to remind one that it is old forestland, the quiet lakes and the singing streams, the friendly accessible mountains; the little country towns of Massachusetts and Connecticut with their village greens and elms and two-century-old churches and courthouses; the secret glens of the .A,diron- dacks and the mountain meadows of the Blue Ridge; the long-settled champaign of Maryland and Pennsylvania; Virginian manors more Old-England perhaps than anything we have at home; the exquisite links with the past like much of Boston and
  • 32. 10 BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC Charleston and all of Annapolis; the sun- burnt aromatic ranges of Montana and Wyoming; the Pacific shores where from snow mountains fishable streams descend through some of the noblest timber on earth to an enchanted sea. It is a country most of which I feel to be in a special sense " habitable," designed for homes, adapted to human uses, a friendly land. I like, too, the way in which the no- menclature reflects its history, its racial varieties, its odd cultural mixtures, the grandiose and the homespun rubbing shoul- ders. That is how places should be named. I have no objection to Mechanicsville and Higginsville and Utica and Syracuse. They are a legitimate part of the record. And be- hind are the hoar-ancient memorials of the first dwellers, names like symphonies — Susquehanna, Ticonderoga, Shenandoah, Wyoming, . . . No country can show such a wide range of type and character, and I am so constituted that in nearly all I find something to interest and attract me. This is more than a tem- peramental bias, for I am very ready to give reasons for my liking. I am as much alive as anyone to the weak and ugly things in American life: areas, both urban and rural, where the human economy has gone rotten; the melting pot which does not always melt ; the eternal colored problem; a constitu- tional machine which I cannot think ade- quately represents the efficient good sense of the American people; a brand of journal- ism which fatigues with its ruthless snappi- ness and uses a speech so disintegrated that it is incapable of expressing any serious thought or emotion; the imbecile patter of high-pressure salesmanship; an academic jargon, used chiefly by psychologists and sociologists, which is hideous and almost meaningless. Honest Americans do not deny these blemishes; indeed they are apt to ex- aggerate them, for they are by far the stern- est critics of their own country. For myself, I would make a double plea in extenuation. These are defects from which today no na- tion is exempt; for they are the fruits of a mechanical civilization, which perhaps are more patent in America since everything there is on a large scale. Again, you can set an achievement very much the same in kind against nearly every failure. If her historic apparatus of government is cranky, she is capable of meeting the " instant need of things '' with brilliant improvisations. Against economic plague spots she can set great experiments in charity; against jour- nalistic baby talk, a standard of popular writing in her best papers which is a model of idiom and perspicuity; against catch- penny trade methods, many solidly founded, perfectly organized commercial enterprizes; against the jargon of the half-educated pro- fessor, much noble English prose in the great tradition. That is why it is so foolish to generalize about America. You no sooner construct a rule than it is shattered by the exceptions. As I have said, I have a liking for almost every kind of American (except the kind who decry their country). I have even a sneaking fondness for George Babbitt/ which I fancy is shared by his creator. But there are two types which I value especially, and which I have never met elsewhere in quite the same form. One is the pioneer. No doubt the physical frontier of the United States is now closed, but the pioneer still lives, though the day of the covered wagon is over. I have met him in the New England hills, where he is grave, sardonic, deliberate in speech; in the South, where he has a ready smile and a soft, caressing way of talking; in the ranges of the West, the cow- puncher with his gentle voice and his clear, friendly eyes which have not been dulled by reading print — the real thing, far re- moved from the vulgarities of film and fic- tion. At his best, I think, I have found him as a newcomer in Canada, where he is push- ing north into districts like the Peace River, pioneering in the old sense. By what signs is he to be known? Principally by the fact that he is wholly secure, that he possesses his soul, that he is the true philosopher. He ' George Babbitt: central character of Sinclair Lewis's novel Babbitt, supposed to represent a typical middle-class American.
  • 33. MY AMERICA II is one of the few aristocrats left in the world. He has a right sense of the vakie of life, because his cosmos embraces both na- ture and man. I think he is the most stead- fast human being now alive. The other type is at the opposite end of the social scale, the creature of a complex society who at the same time is not domi- nated by it but, while reaping its benefits, stands a little aloof. In the older countries culture, as a rule, leaves some irregularity like an e.xcrescence in a shapely tree trunk, some irrational bias, some petulance or prejudice. You have to go to America, I think, for the wholly civilized man who has not lost his natural vigor or agreeable idio- syncrasies, but who sees life in its true pro- portions and has a fine balance of mind and spirit. It is a character hard to define, but anyone with a wide American acquaintance will know what I mean. They are people in whom education has not stunted any natu- ral growth or fostered any abnormality. They are Greek in their justness of outlook, but Northern in their gusto. Their eyes are shrewd and candid, but always friendly. As examples I would cite, among friends who are dead, the names of Robert Bacon,' Walter Page,- Newton Baker,'' and Dwight Morrow.* But I am less concerned with special tv^pes than with the American people as a whole. Let me try to set down certain qualities which seem to me to flourish more lustily in the United States than elsewhere. Again, let me repeat, I speak of America only as I know it; an observer with a different experience might not agree with my con- clusions. First I would select what, for want of a better word, I should call homeliness. It is significant that the ordinary dwelling, though it be only a shack in the woods, is called not a house but a home. This means that the family, the ultimate social unit, is • Robert Bacon: .American Ambassador to France, iQOQ-iqi2. ' Walter Page: .Ambassador to Great Britain, 1913-1018. ' Newton Baker: Secretary of War during World War I. ' Dwight Morrow: .Ambassador to Mexico, i927-io?o. given its proper status as the foundation of society. Even among the richer classes I seem to find a certain pleasing domesticity. English people of the same rank are sepa- rated by servants from the basic work of the household, and know very little about it. In America the kitchen is not too far away from the drawing room, and it is recognized, as Heraclitus said, that the gods may dwell there. But I am thinking chiefly of the ordi- nary folk, especialh' those of narrow means. It is often said that Americans are a nomad race, and it is true that they are very ready to shift their camp; but the camp, however bare, is always a home. The cohesion of the family is close, even when its members are scattered. This is due partly to tradition of the first settlers, a handful in an unknown land; partly to the history of the frontier, where the hearth fire burned brighter when all around was cold and darkness. The later immigrants from Europe, feeling at last se- cure, were able for the first time to establish a family base, and they cherished it zeal- ously. This ardent domesticity has had its bad effects on American literature, inducing a sentimentality which makes a too crude frontal attack on the emotions and which has produced as a reaction a not less senti- mental " toughness." But as a social cement it is beyond price. There have been many to laugh at the dullness and pettiness of the " small town." From what I know of small- town life elsewhere, I suspect obtuseness in the satirists. Second, I would choose the sincere and widespread friendliness of the people. Americans are interested in the human race, and in each other. Deriving doubtless from the old frontier days, there is a general help- fulness which I have not found in the same degree elsewhere. A homesteader in Dakota will accompany a traveler for miles to set him on the right road. The neighbors will rally round one of their number in distress with the loyalty of a Highland clan. This friendliness is not a self-conscious duty so much as an instinct. A squatter in a cabin ^ Heraclitus (her-a-kli'tus) : a Greek philoso- pher of about SCO B.C.
  • 34. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC 12 will share his scanty provender and never dream that he is doing anything unusual. American hospitaUty, long as I have en- joyed it, still leaves me breathless. The lav- i<;hness with which a busy man will give up precious time to entertain a stranger to whom he is in no way bound remams for me one of the wonders of the world. No doubt this friendliness, since it is an estab- lished custom, has its fake side. The endless brotherhoods and sodalities into which peo- ple brigade themselves encourage a geniality which is more a mannerism than an index of character, a tiresome, noisy, backslap- ping heartiness. But that is the exception, not the rule. Americans like company, but though they are gregarious they do not lose themselves in the crowd. Waves of mass emotion ma' sweep the country', but they are transient things and do not submerge for long the stubborn rock of indi-idualism. That is to say. people can be led: but they will not be driven. Their love of human companionship is based not on self-distrust but on a genuine liking for their kind. With them the sense of a common humanity is a warm and constant instinct and not a doc- trine of the schools or a slogan of the hustings. Lastly — and this may seem a paradox — I maintain that they are fundamentally modest. Their interest in others is a proof of it: the Aristotelian^ :Magnificent Man was interested in nobody but himself. As a nation they are said to be sensitive to criti- cism: that surely is modesty, for the truly arrogant care nothing for the opinion of other people. Above all they can laugh at themselves, which is not possible for the immodest. They are their own shrewdest and most ribald critics. It is charged against them that they are inclined to boast unduly about those achievements and about the greatness of their countr', but a smug glory- ing in them is found only in the American of the caricaturist. They rejoice in showing their mar'els to a visitor with the gusto of children exhibiting their toys to a stranger, ' Aristotelian (ar-Is-tS-te'U-in) : .Aristotle (384- 322 B.C.) was a Greek philosopher. an innocent desire, without any unfriendly gloating, to make others partakers in their satisfaction. If now and then they are guilty of bombast, it is surely a venial fault. The excited American talks of his land very much, I suspect, as the Elizabethans in their cups talked of England. The foreigner who strayed into the Mermaid Tavern - must often have listened to heroics which upset his temper. The native genius, in humor and in many of the public and private relations of life, is for overstatement, a high-colored, imagi- native, paradoxical extravagance. The Brit- ish gift is for understatement. Both are legitimate figures of speech. They serve the same purpose: for they call attention to a fact by startling the hearer, since manifestly they are not the plain truth. Personally I delight in both mannerisms and would not for the world have their possessors reject them. They ser-e the same purpose in an- other and a subtler sense, for they can be used to bring novel and terrible things within the pale of homely experience. I re- member on the Western Front in 1918 that two divisions, British and American, aligned side by side, suffered a heaw shelling. An American sergeant described it in racy and imaginative speech which would have been appropriate to the Day of Judgment. A British sergeant merely obser-ed that •' Kaiser "ad been a bit 'asty." Each had a twinkle in his eye: each in his national idiom was making frightfulness endurable by domesticating it. When World War II descended upon Eu- rope, the ties behveen England and America were strengthened, Een before «e partici- pated actively as alhes with England, we be- came more keenly aware of our common heritage of ideas, our concepts of freedom and justice which had come down to us through our shared language. England threat- ened and England bombed touched our deep est SATnpathies. > Mermaid Tavern: favorite haunt of Shake- speare and other literary men of sixteenth- century London.
  • 35. BRITAIN AND THE BOMBINGS 13 LONDON SKYLINE BY BOMBLIGHT. This dramatic picture shows London lit up by a great blaze started by incendiary bombs. (Press Association) During the cailv davs of the war it was hard for Americans to know exacfJy ii'hat haioc had been «'roiight. Letters «ere stiicth censored and newspaper accounts so piece- meal that it was aJmost impossible to form a clear overall picture of conditions. Allan Nevins, an able American historian, ga'e us that picture in one of the finest pieces of re- porting that has come out of the war. He did not go to England for the purpose of writing a book, but rather to make himself usefuJ in anv possible «'av to a country where he had been for a time Professor of American ffistorv at Oxford. The Ministry of Infor- mation sent him all o-er England making speeches, and for six months he had unusual opportunities for obscn'ation. L''pon his re- turn to the United States he was pre'ailed upon to write a series of articles for the press which were later collected in This Is England To3av. The heroism and the unswerving de termination of the British in the face of assaults such as the follow ing selection de- scribes won the admiration of all Americans. The war itself had become the keystone of the bridge across the Atlantic. Both the pic- ture at the top of the page and Mr. Nevins's article vividly suggest the job of rebuilding that faces England. BRITAIN AND THE BOMBINGS ALLAN NEVINS " It is impossible," wrote the Lady May- oress of Plymouth (Lady Aster) on April 4, after the worst of that city's ordeal, " for the ordinary person to visualize a blitz un- less he has lived through one." That is true, and true in the sense that a blitz is much worse than most people can imagine before it occurs. Again and again in Great Britain a city has made what it considered to be adequate preparations. Then, when the Ger- man bombers swept over, the inhabitants found that some aspects of the disaster were more frightful than they had anticipated, and that their measures were insufficient. An air raid converts a city into a battlefield; the din, the confusion, the swift emergen- cies, and, alas, the butchery and anguish of the battlefield are all present. Yet great as the suffering and social dis- location have been, the raids on Britain have not materially affected the war. .MI the sav- age, indiscriminate German attacks have failed to do that because, first, the damage to vital war industries has been small; be- cau.sc, second and more important, they have not lowered the spirit of the people
  • 36. H but have rather raised and hardened it, have not lessened the unity of the popula- tion but strengthened it; and because, in the third place, they have not deflected the British authorities for an instant from their determination to bomb war objectives alone, and to bomb them strictly according to plan. In six months in Great Britain I saw- most of the heavily stricken cities. The cen- ters which had suffered most tragically in proportion to their extent and population seemed to me to be Clydebank, Birkenhead and its neighbor on the Mersey called Wal- lasey, Coventry, Southampton, and Bris- tol. Undoubtedly Plymouth and Ports- mouth should be added to the list, but them I did not see. The damage in great parts of Liverpool and London was appalling. That is, in both there were areas amounting to many acres which were simply hum- mocked expanses of broken brick, stone, mortar, glass, and slate, while the principal streets were pocked with shattered build- ings. In Birmingham and ilanchester the damage could be termed very heavy, while in Sheffield it was far from light. Belfast, which I did not visit, has also been hard hit; late in April one raid cost about 500 dead and more than 1500 injured. Some of the east-coast towns, such as Hull — not long ago the third port of the kingdom — have been raided again and again, though I found York, Durham, and Newcastle, like Edin- burgh, almost unscathed. Yet in not one of the centers* which I was able to visit had the important war facili- ties, so far as I saw them, been put out of action or badly crippled. In most of the cities the mills, factories, docks, wharves, and shipbuilding works were operating with full vigor. This was because the German raiding had been ill-planned, blindly spor- adic, and clumsily executed. It was the raid- ing of a dirty fighter hitting out to cause pain, not to strike a vital spot. . . . It was Coventry, however, which struck me as offering the most telling illustration of the inability of the German bombers to do really atal damage with their indiscrimi- nate hail of missiles. As a city Coventry is BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC mutilated beyond all recognition; as a man- ufacturing area it is still practically un- harmed and vigorously busy. The municipal coat of arms is an elephant bearing a castle on his back. The elephant has been badly battered, but the castle stands foursquare. The tremendous raid at Coventry on No- vember 13-14 last fall was followed this spring ' by another savage blow. I was shown about the city by Alderman W. Halli- well, Laborite chairman of the emergency committee, who has won a national reputa- tion by his impetuous energy. He told me that when the war began, Coventry had about 74,000 houses. In the great blitz be- tween 4000 and 5000 were demolished and about 50,000 were more or less damaged, many suffering only smashed windows and sprung doors. The death roll for that No- vember night was more than 500. Exact fig- ures cannot be given — some dead bodies are still being found, some never will be found. The Germans poured their main stream of incendiaries and high explosives into the center of this closely packed city, so that the business district has largely dis- appeared. Along streets from which the rubble had been cleared, temporary one- story shops with open fronts or a few small panes were carrying on trade. The cathedral tow-er rose gaunt and impressive over the ruined nave, its shattered walls inclosing uneven piles of stone, brick, lime, and glass. Chairman Halliwell furnished a moving description of the days after the great blitz. The population seemed stunned by the eleven hours of continuous bombing and by the extent of the catastrophe that met their eyes as they crawled from the shelters. " That's it, stunned. They were fair dazed." The water system had been put out of com- mission; the gas mains were smashed, and some of them were blazing; the electric lighting was gone. Clouds of smoke swirled overhead. Streets were choked with rubbish and pitted with craters; nobody could move tw'o blocks except by a tedious process of trial and error. About 250 une.xploded bombs lay in the city, and the first morning ' this spring: the spring of 1941.
  • 37. BRIIAIN AND THE BOMBINGS Eialliwell parked his car beside one. Half he rest centers prepared in advance had Deen blitzed. Little or no food was available. Most of the groceries and bakeries had dis- ippeared. and the restaurants and hotels vere smashed. Haggard families with noth- ng left but the garments on their backs vandered along the ruined streets looking or shelter. One of the first steps taken was send around loud.speaker wagons, sup- )lied by the Ministry of Information, which mnounced that vehicles were standing at uch-and-such spots on the outskirts and could carry the homeless to refuges in leighboring cities and towns. Of course a ;reat many of the stricken people went to riends and relatives. . . . This city was so frightfully smashed that rhen the King arrived they picked him up wo and a half miles from the center, and lad to make detours aggregating about wenty miles to get him to the heart of town. I'et most of the war industries were quite inhurt. Coventry profited from the fact that Qdustrially it has been practically remade rithin the last generation. Before igoo it ras largely devoted to cotton spinning, car- lets, ribbons, and textiles generally; then ts bicycle and sewing-machine factories lowered into motor, electric, and engineer- ig establishments. This renovation of its adustry meant that works were scattered ridely about the outskirts. The German al- ack on the heart of the city had left them nscathed. Chairman Halliwell told me that nly one really important plant had been ermanently put out of action by the Xo- ember blitz. A number of small shops en- aged on subcontracting jobs had been mashed, but they did not count. As I drove bout the city on three separate asits, I ould believe him. The Triumph Engineer- ig Works were in ruins : so were two te.xtile lills; so were some small iron foundries, lut the great establishments — despite 3me near misses —• were busy. The first thought of the authorities was 3 put the factories back into operation. A all was issued over the radio for all persons •ith catering e.xperience to assemble at the Council Hou.se: for perhaps 7000 workers had formerly gotten their midday meal in Coventry, and now had no place to eat. To the astonishment of the authorities, the chamber was packed. Woolworth's and other shops quickly opened restaurants; fac- tories with cafeterias operated them con- tinuously. For water, some three hundred miles of fle.xible steel pipe were laid on the surface — there was no time to restore the underground mains. It was gotten in a hurry, and the army put it down without delay. Jointless metal piping was similarly laid on the surface for gas. The sewage ques- tion was difficult for a time, for the system had been badlj" smashed; but emergency efforts soon got it in repair. By Christmas nearly all the Coventn,- workers had gas, electricity, and running water again. Special calls were issued for carpenters and roofers, and a large force was soon repairing the houses. The authorities sent to the potteries in Staffordshire, and got truckloads of table- ware as a gift; they sent to Sheffield for knives and forks, which came at once. Other difficulties were quickly met. Of the thirty schools half a dozen had been demolished, while others were temporarily unusable be- cause of unexploded iDombs. But within a few weeks nearly all of them were operating. People who had worshiped at the cathedral went to the fine Holy Trinity Church hard by; the tw-o principal Baptist and Congre- gationalist units " doubled up," their minis- ters taking the pulpit by turns. Altogether, Coventn,' lost its stride for only a short time and then carried on. Within a few days the large mills and fac- tories were going back to their regular schedules. The city's drop in population was small: only 15.000 to 25,000 out of a total of 225,000. As war work was resumed, the authorities laid plans for decentralizing the industries; and some factories were moved farther away from the heart of Coventry. This reduced the losses in the .pril raid. Of course it would be incorrect to say that no important war damage has been done in Great Britain. Xot all of the bombs failed to find military objectives. The docks
  • 38. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC ST. PAUL'S BEFORE AND DURING. Though the bombs dropped all around, the main structure of St. Paul's Cathedral stands intact. (Press Association) (Ewing Galloway) at Liverpool have suffered heavily along one stretch. . . . Great warehouses full of valu- able goods have been destroyed in some large cities, notably Bristol, Manchester, and Liverpool. But by far the larger part of the damage has been without military ef- fect; it is damage to civilian life and the arts and amenities of civilization. Nowhere is this truer than in London. The great blitz of April i6 there, which I witnessed, was simply a piece of German spitefulness, a vindictive attempt to smash as many as possible of those artistic and his- torical monuments in which London is so incomparably richer than Berlin. It was a most spectacular affair. The air-raid warn- ing went at nine-thirty in the evening, and waves of bombers kept up the attack until dawn. Scores of searchlights threw up their shafts into the skies; antiaircraft shells burst high in air like glorious Roman can- dles; from time to time the Germans loosed groups of chandelier flares which slowly sank, shedding an eerie yellow light over the rooftops. The crash of bombs went on all night; in one fifteen-minute period I counted twenty which seemed to fall within a mile or two of Broadcasting House. The German object was to cause as much de- struction as possible in Westminster, the aristocratic shopping area, and the residen- tial districts abutting on Hyde Park and Green Park. They struck churches, libraries, museums, and public buildings, but the military damage was negligible. Almost equally barbarous were the attacks in May, when east London again suffered badly, while more of the old, mellow, famous build- ings of central London were destroyed. Happily the most precious structures are less hurt than Americans might suppose. The bomb that went through the lantern tower of Westminster Abbey did such re- stricted harm that damage is hardly visi- ble from the outside. Only a small part of the roof of Westminster Hall has been shattered. The main structure of the Houses of Parliament is intact; so is the main structure of St. Paul's. But it is sad to look at the ruins elsewhere — the Guild-
  • 39. BRITAIN AND THE BOMBINGS hall, the Middle Temple and Inner Tem- ple, Gray's Inn, Westminster School, St. Clement Danes, Chelsea Old Church and Chelsea Hospital, a great part of Lam- beth Palace, and many another lovely and storied building. Most of the stately Tudor buildings of Charterhouse have been gutted. Only the fagade of the Grey Coat Hospital, built in Elizabethan days, remains; the quaint uniformed effigies of a boy and girl which flank the coat of arms on the front turn their backs on the ashes of the long hall. In Cheapside the tower and steeple of St. Mary-le-Bow, ftuilt by Christopher Wren, survive — but nothing else of that handsome church. The list could be made far longer by including valuable modern buildings; for example. Queen's Hall, so long the home of the London Philharmonic, of which only the ticket office is left. The heavy blows of April and May, with the deaths that they caused — for on April i6 the British lost more lives in London than in the main Greek campaign — did practi- cally no military harm. They were blows at civilization which left Germany as well as the rest of the world permanently poorer. The indiscriminate bombings were un- doubtedly founded upon a German hope to break the morale of the British people by death, maiming, and fear. But the worse hit the town, the higher the response. The Lord Provost in Glasgow, after describing how Clydesiders had withstood two nights of heavy raiding, burst out: "The spirit of these people is mountainous." That was a good deal for a Scot to say. The Lord Mayor of Bristol made a quieter re- mark: "The morale of our people is com- pletely unshaken." Churchill put it pithily in a visit to Plymouth: " Their houses are down, but their hearts are up." It is gener- ally agreed that nothing has done more to unify the people of London and arouse their anger than the repeated attempts to bomb Buckingham Palace. It is generally agreed also that the way in which the West End of London welcomed and succored evacues from the East End after the bombing of the fall of 1940 did much for national cohesion. 17 The East Enders did not like the big rooms, the expensive shops, the lack of old neigh- bors; they soon flocked home. But some- thing had been done to teach the upper and lower classes that they were going through the ordeal together. Some anecdotes perhaps illustrate the spirit of heroism, defiance, and social unity best. They 'told me in Bristol of a sixteen- year-old girl who disposed of eight incendi- ary bombs in slightly over a half-hour, meanwhile changing from a party dress to shorts and then to slacks. They told me in Coventry of a girl of five who emerged the night after the big blitz for a pint of milk at a portable canteen. It was free. But she was not taking charity. She laid down tup- pence with the order: " Put that in the Spit- fire fund! " They told me in London of a fire warden, buried five hours in a ruined post, who when dug out said: " Thank you all, mates. You were great." Sir John Simon related to me with feeling a scene he had witnessed in a first-aid station. An old man, badly injured, was brought in and laid down groaning with pain. Presently an old woman, also injured and groaning with pain, was brought in and laid beside him. He reached out and took his wife's hand in his — and their groans ceased; they were content. An- other well-known Englishman I heard ex- press his admiration of a specially steadfast group in a sudden outburst: " After this war Heaven is going to be full of London charwomen." We have come through these crises. A vast human experience has passed into the reaJm of history, and the race has sun'ived. We can now turn toward a future ot hope for a per- manent peace. But peace can never mean in- acti'x'ity or self-indulgence. Man has always battled with the elements and other forces greater than himself, and will continue to do so. Some of these struggles and conquests will he in new fields. The air, for instance, is a challenging frontier for man's new world. We may " lie in the dark and listen " for the portentous things the air may have in store.
  • 40. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC XIGHT FLIGHT They're going over in waves and waves High above villages, hills, and streams. (Wide World Photos) Country churches and little graves And little citizens' worried dreams. Noel Coward, a popular British plawright who has often appeared in his own pJays on the American stage, is always alert to the mod- ern scene. In this striking poem, puWished in the Atlantic Monthly in rg^^, he voices the awe, the helplessness, and the feeling of ominous waiting that have come to us as a result of the masten' of the air. The situation is obviously the night raids of the war. but the poem can also be gien a broader inter- pretation. The debt of the earthbound to those who venture into 'ast spaces of dark- ness can neer be paid — either in wai or in peace. LIE IN THE DARK AND LISTEN NOEL COWARD Lie in the dark and listen. It's clear tonight, so they're flying high, Hundreds of them, thousands perhaps, Riding the icy, moonlit sky, !Men, machinery, bombs, and maps, Altimeters and guns and charts, Coffee, sandwiches, fleece-lined boots. Bones and muscles and minds and hearts, English saplings with English roots Deep in the earth they've left below. Lie in the dark and let them go; Lie in the dark and listen. Lie in the dark and listen. The'"re going over in waves and waves High above villages, hills, and streams, Country churches and little graves And little citizens' worried dreams; Very soon they'll have reached the sea, And far below them will lie the bays And cliffs and sands where they used to be Taken for summer holidays. Lie in the dark and let them go; Theirs is a world we'll never know. Lie in the dark and listen. Lie in the dark and listen. City magnates and steel contractors, Factory workers and politicians, Soft hysterical little actors,
  • 41. LIE IN THE DARK AND LISTEN 19 Ballet dancers, reserved musicians, Safe in your warm civilian beds, Count your profits and count your sheep — Life is passing above your heads; Just turn over and try to sleep. Lie in the dark and let them go; There's one debt you'll forever owe. Lie in the dark and listen. The fascination of the air is too new to have found its way into much h'terature. But what of the challenges of the past? There are urges and aspirations that ha'e been passed on from generation to generation and uill be passed on to our children and grandchil- dren after us. Close indeed does it bring us to OUT remote ancestors when we read side bv side two poems which voice a longing for the sea with all its dangers and hardships. One of these was written by England's pres- ent poet laureate. John Afasefield; the other by an unJcnown saiJor-poet of fifteen cen- turies ago. Thus can we bridge in a moment that great gap of time. Just as we turn on our radios and space becomes as nothing, so we can turn on our imaginations and centuries are instantly dissolved. Afen speaking to us in the strange tongue of antiquity are at our elbows. Through sharing their thoughts we gradualh- come to sense a common impulse that ibrates like an electric current through succeeding generations. From Anglo-Saxon times to the present day this book will trace the rich Iegac- of literature with which the English language has endowed us. JMA 4 ^w*^ ''<3k^^H uT"^ j^^^H ....A ^ ' j^^^^H 1 DOWN TO THE SEAS. In literature and in fact, from the romantic old sailing ship to the modern merchantman, the British have been a seafaring people, and the sea is an enduring thread in their literature. (Key- stone View) SEA FEVER JOHN MASEFIELD I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying. And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.
  • 42. BRIDGING THE ATLANTIC I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant g>'psy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. Of unknown authorship and date, the fol- lowing poem is one of the earliest lyrics of our language. In fact, the language of those days was so different from our present Eng- lish that a translation is necessary. The trans- lator. Dr. J. Duncan Spaeth, has retained as far as possible the mood and style of the original. He has, however, made one depar- ture from it hv arranging the poem as a dia- logue to bring out more clearly the contrast suggested by the words themselves. Thus the old sailor represents the realistic voice of hitter experience; the youth speaks with a romantic fenor not to he daunted by hard- ship and danger. In vividness of detail and poetic quality of diction, this poem does not suffer by comparison with " Sea Fever." After reading it vou will probably want to know more of those hard}- ancestors of ours who gave us our first literary heirlooms. THE SEAFARER (An Anglo-Saxon Poem) The Old Sailor True is the tale that I tell of my travels. Sing of my seafaring sorrows and woes; Hunger and hardship's heaviest burdens, Tempest and terrible toil of the deep, Daily I've borne on the deck on my boat. Fearful the welter of waves that encom- passed me, Watching at night on the narrow bow, As she drove by the rocks, and drenched me with spray. Fast to the deck my feet were frozen. Gripped by the cold, while care's hot surges My heart o'erwhelmed, and hunger's pangs Sapped the strength of my sea-weary spirit. Little he knows whose lot is happy, Who lives at ease in the lap of the earth, How, sick at heart, o'er icy seas, Wretched I ranged the winter through. Bare of joys, and banished from friends. Hung with icicles, stung by hailstones. NJought I heard but the hollow boom Of wintry waves, or the wild swan's whoop. For singing I had the solan's scream; For peals of laughter, the yelp of the seal; The sea-mew's cry, for the mirth of the mead-hall. Shrill through the roar of the shrieking gale Lashing along the sea-cliff's edge. Pierces the ice-plumed petrel's defiance. And the wet-winged eagle's answering scream. Little he dreams that drinks life's pleasure. By danger untouched in the shelter of towns, Insolent and wine-proud, how utterly weary Oft I wintered on open seas. Night fell black, from the north it snowed Harvest of hail. The Youth Oh, wildly my heart Beats in my bosom and bids me to try The tumble and surge of seas tumultuous, Breeze and brine and the breakers' roar. Daily, hourly, drives me my spirit Outward to sail, far countries to see. Liveth no man so large in his soul. So gracious in giving, so gay in his youth. In deeds so daring, so dear to his lord.
  • 43. THE SEAFARER 21 But frets his soul for his sea-adventure, Fain to try what fortune shall send. Harping he needs not, nor hoarding of treasure; Xor woman can win him, nor joys of the world. Nothing does please but the plunging bil- lows ; Ever he longs, who is lured by the sea. Woods are abloom, the wide world awakens, Gay are the mansions, the meadows most fair; These are but warnings, that haste on his journey Him whose heart is hungry to taste The perils and pleasures of the pathless deep. The Old Sailor Dost mind the cuckoo mournfully calling? The summer's watchman sorrow forbodes. What does the landsman that wantons in luxury. What does he reck the rough sea's foe. The cares of the exile, whose keel has ex- plored The uttermost parts of the ocean-ways! The Youth Sudden my soul starts from her prison- house, Soareth afar o'er the sounding main; Hovers on high, o'er the home of the whale; Back to me darts the bird-sprite and beck- ons, Winging her way o'er woodland and plain, Hungry to roam, and bring me where glisten Glorious tracts of glimmering foam. This life on land is lingering death to me, Give me the gladness of God's great sea. So the " gladness of God's great sea " car- ried Englishmen eernvherc and scattered them throughout the world, where thcv hae built homes and founded great nations. In this volume you will trace the thoughts of these people as they have developed through the ages. You wilJ become more keenlv aware of certain hopes and determinations and aspirations which, through literature, are the inheritance of English-speaking people every- where: love of home, readiness to ad'enture, stoic endurance of hardship, insistence on freedom and justice, will to achieve, devoted search for truth, grim resistance to ^vrong- doing, and desire for the peace and stabilitj' of the H'orld. In conclusion let us read the following tribute to the little center — so small geo- graphicalh- — from which such great influ- ences have radiated. The words are those of England's foremost literar)' master, ShaJce- speare. This other Eden, demiparadise. This fortress built bv Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war. This happy breed of men. this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which senes it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house Against the envT of less happier lands. This blessed plot, this earth, this rea!m, this England. King Richard II
  • 44. HERE IS ENGLAND. Britain's insular position has played a large role in preventing in- vasion from the continent and in maintaining the integrity of the British people. The varied terrain and great natural beauty of the islands have had a profound influence on many English writers, especially the poets, through the centuries.
  • 45. u THE literature of a people who all speak the same language is simply the sum total of the best writings in that language. Poems, plays, novels, biog- raphy, essays, and history help to form this total. This book presents as examples of English literature many of the best writings of the English, and also of the Irish and the Scots. The writings of our own country are presented in a separate volume, Adventures in American Literature; but English litera- ture is, of course, the parent of American literature. In order to understand how and why the English language has grown and changed, and how its literature has developed, it is well to know something of the background of English history. THE BRITISH EMPIRE Great Britain (England, Scotland, and Wales) and Ireland are two islands close to the continent of Europe, northwest of France. From this center has developed the British Empire, now to a large extent a Commonwealth of free and independent na- tions. The most important of these are the Dominions of Canada and Newfoundland (half the continent of North .America), Australia, New Zealand, and the Union of South Africa. The many colonies through- out the world are governed more directly by Britain. India forms a unique part of the Empire, neither as self-governing as a do- minion nor as dependent as a colony. In 1922 South Ireland became the Irish Free State with the same status as a dominion in the Empire, but in 1938, with the new name of Eire, she became a separate republic. The six northern counties of Ireland have re- tained their original position as part of the nation of Great Britain. HOW ENGL.ND BEG.'^N Thousands of years ago the island known as Britain was a part of the mainland, a peninsula jutting northward from France. No English Channel then separated it from the Continent. The first inhabitants of Brit- ain had come from Iberia (Spain). Small in stature, they fought and hunted ferocious animals in the forests. Several thousand years before the birth of Christ they had trackways, rude mounds for the burial of their dead, and the crude beginnings of civilization. Their Stone Age was followed by the Bronze and the Iron ages, as the material used for weapons and implements changed and new- metals were discovered. .RRIV.L OF THE CELTS Then a larger and more robust people, the Celts, entered Britain from the lands that are now France and Germany. Some of them painted themselves with crude color; so the Romans, on first seeing them, called them Picts, or Painted People (hence our word " picture ") . From one group, the Br'- thons (" tattooed men "), the name Britain is derived. The Celts, a barbarous people, were clan- nish. Together they fought their tribal ene- mies. They had no central government and no written language. Their priests, called Druids, taught them of a world after death. The huge stone pillars at Stonehenge (prob- ably erected long before the coming of the Celts) were used as one of the re-
  • 46. HERE IS ENGLAND STONEHENGE, SOUTHERN ENGLAND. These huge pillars are the remains of what was probably a religious meeting place of the earliest inhabitants of the British Isles. (Culver Service) ligious meeting places of these priests. Then, during the slowly passing centuries, the Britannic Isles were cut off from the European mainland by the body of water now called the English Channel. THE GEOGRAPHY OF ENGLAND The history of a country is influenced by its geographical position and the shape of its land. The southeast part of England sloped toward France. The chalk cliffs along the southern coast were broken by inviting harbors, and the east coast was low and marshy. It was fertile land, too, with a tem- perate climate. Wild winds, blowing against England's western hills, brought ample rainfall. These conditions invited many early invasions. HOW ENGLAND LOOKS TODAY England is roughly triangular in shape. The eastern part is agriculturally the rich- est. It has also the easier trade approach from the Continent. To the west lies the great Midland Plain — bordered by the coal district, called the " Black Country." This thickly populated plain is the heart of rural England. In its western part are great flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, and some of its towns manufacture woolen and leather goods. The major manufacturing districts lie to the west and north. On the east coast of England, north of the fertile land, a large shallow bay called The Wash receives a number of rivers. The level land at the mouths of the rivers is known as the Fens. Originally very swampy, this land is now extensively drained. From Scotland south to the center of England runs the Pennine Chain of hills. Its great deposits of coal and iron feed manufacturing, which supports one of the densest populations in the world. In the northwest lies the Lake District, noted for beautiful scenery and steep hills, celebrated by the Lake Poets. The tip of England's southwest peninsula is Cornwall, steep and rugged, where King Arthur is supposed to have lived. From the southern coast of England, the Chalk Coun- try runs northeast into the middle of Eng- land. Long ago a great sheet of chalk spread over the whole southeastern section. The chalk cliffs of Dover, which gave Eng- land the early name of Albion (meaning White Land), are still a notable landmark. (See Alice Duer Miller's poem " The White Cliffs of Dover," from which a recent mov- ing picture was made.) The part of England nearest France is called The Weald ; it com- prises Susse.x, Surrey, and Kent. Once it was one of the densest forests in Britain. Chalk forms the Downs to the north of the Weald, while the South Downs meet the sea
  • 47. THE BRITISH ISLES in historic promontories. Sheep, grass, and beech and oak trees are plentiful on the Downs. In the north of England are wide moors or peat fields overgrown with heather. West of England is Wales, craggy and forested like the Scottish highlands. Sepa- rated from England by a mountain barrier, it was in ancient days the refuge of defeated primitive tribes. Today it is a rich country for coal mining and the smelting of metals. A musical race, the Welsh have always had their local poets and annual congresses of bards, minstrels, and writers. SCOTLAND North of England is Scotland, a land of varied beauty with rugged mountains and numerous lakes and streams. It is divided into two parts: the Highlands in the north and the Lowlands nearest to England. Until quite recently the Highland Celts spoke 25 Gaelic. These hunters and herders of cattle have always stood aloof from the English. The Lowlanders, on the other hand, have long been close to England in language and customs. Some of the best writers of Eng- lish literature are Lowland Scots. To the. west of England is Ireland, with rugged cliffs, lakes, and rich vegetation. Like Wales and northern Scotland. Ireland was in early days the remote fastness to which the Celtic tribes retreated. England later conquered Ireland, but a long history of Irish dissatisfaction with English rule re- sulted in the present Republic of Eire. The genius of the Celtic race has contributed excellent writing both in the ancient Gaelic tongue and in modern English. With this preliminary view, we now turn to the first invasion of England in historic times and the beginnings of English litera- ture. .-i CORNWALL TOWN'. Much of England's charm lies in her villages. This is Looe, one of the many picturesque fishing towns on England's coasts. (Ewing GaUoway)
  • 48. THE AXGLO-S.XOX AGE. Turbulenl sea and log-bound land created a iUun-, bold race of men always reach- to fight ; but equally ready to enjoy food and drink and song and ston.- in the great hall when the battle had ended-
  • 49. ay/xy-n 449-1066 JULIUS CAESAR, the great Roman pro- consul who finally made himself mas- ter of the Roman Empire, twice in- vaded Britain, in 55 and 54 b.c. He is the central figure in Shakespeare's famous play and in Bernard Shaw's Caesar and Cleopatra. Caesar was the first Roman to bring the "eagles" (Roman emblems of authority and power) to British shores. But he soon had to withdraw. It was not until almost a century later (a.d. 43) that the Emperor Claudius I really conquered Britain for Rome. During the Roman occupation of the island for a little over three centuries and a half, the wilder Celtic tribes retreated, fighting, to the hills of Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. But the Britons in southern Eng- land were brought under Roman rule. In Kipling's Puck of Pook's Hill a supposed Roman centurion of the thirtieth legion tells of those ancient days of the Roman occupa- tion. He speaks of the painted tribes of Picts, " little folk," against whom (in a.d. 150) the Roman Emperor Hadrian built a wall. From that time until the middle of the fourth century, this wall was the north- ern boundary of Britain. Having thus secured themselves against attack, the Romans built roads, drained swamps, and constructed villas and towns of stone. Their houses had sunken baths in the Roman fashion, even glass in the win- dows, and a kind of central heating. They saw to it that exports from British mines, farms, and looms increased. But, in a.d. 367, the northern Celts and Picts successfully stormed Hadrian's wall and overran England. Roman power, by that time, had begun to crumble, much as the Nazi power in occupied France crum- bled in World War II. .The Romans in Brit- ain were far from home, and the wild Ger- manic tribes — pressed southward by the hordes of Asia — were almost at the gates of Rome itself. Soon Rome was forced to give up its British province entirely, and the Roman colonists followed the legions home. ENGLAND GETS ITS NAME The story goes that Vortigern, a British ruler, in a.d. 449 invited the Jutes, from the peninsula of Jutland, to come to Britain and aid him against the wild northern Picts. Soon not only Jutes, but Saxons and Angles also, swarmed over the land. The present county names — Essex, Sussex, Wessex, and Middlesex — are contractions of East, South, West, and Middle Saxons. The Angles first settled in East Anglia, but soon spread so widely over the eastern half of the island that they gave their name to the en- tire country — England. Again the original Britons retired into Ireland, Wales, and the North and West of England. The Irish and Welsh retained their own Celtic languages, in which a rich store of legends developed. This folklore, however, was not translated into English until the late nineteenth cen- tury. In the sixth century the Christian Celts, still holding out in the North and West, are supposed to have rallied under the legendary King Arthur. At any rate, the
  • 50. Foundations ofa Literature, 55 b.c-iooo a.d. DENMARK^ Scene of Beowulf 200 mi. ROMAN ROADS ^MONASTERIES KINO ALFRED
  • 51. ANGLO-SAXON TRAITS Britons stubbornly resisted invasion. But finally the invaders conquered England and began to settle down fairly peacefully. ANGLO-SA.XON TRAITS The Angles and Saxons — in contrast to the Britons and Celts —were hard fight- ers, seafarers, scorners of danger. Likewise they loved great bouts of eating and drink- ing in the mead hall. In conflicts they were " tough customers." but at other times laz- ily good-natured. They had a thoroughly practical side that survives to this day in most Englishmen. They were stoical in the face of Fate, which they called Wyrd, and had also a poetic genius rising out of long acquaintance with harsh, forbidding land- scape, stormy seas, the mysten,- of nature, and the workings of circumstance which they could not fathom. Most important was the Anglo-Saxon's love of personal liberty. Although there were slaves among them, the Anglo-Saxon believed, as he does to this day, in maintain- ing his own personal rights. While the foundation of Roman civilization was largely the slave state, that of Anglo-Saxon civilization was largely the free man. The Anglo-Sa.xon believed firmly in his own su- periority. Almost immediately he began to call the native Britons Welisc (meaning " foreigners "). From this term, of course, come the words Welsh and Wales. GOVERNXrENT AND RELIGION OF THE SAXONS The Anglo-Saxon did not like towns or cities. Much of his land was shared in com- mon, and his government began with the village moot —a meeting called to talk things over. Today we use the word moot as having to do with discussion or debate — as " moot point," meaning one that may be argued. A small group of families was rep- resented by the town moot, a group of one hundred families by the hundred moot; the larger folk moot was really a gathering to- gether of the tribe for purposes of war. The folk moot elected the war chief and, later on, the king. The principal god of the Anglo-Saxons 29 was Woden, the war god. The names of sev- eral of the days of the week come from the Anglo-Saxon divinities: Tuesday (day of the dark god TIw), Wednesday (Woden's Day), Thursday (Thors day or the Day of Thunder), and Friday (Frigg's Day). Eas- ter also gets its name from their god of spring, Eostre. In the four principal kingdoms of .Anglo- Sa.xon England —Xorthumbria, Mercia. East Anglia. and that of the East and West Saxons — the people lived in small commu- nities, each centered about the somewhat glorified hut of the atheling. or lord, who was often designated as the " dispenser of treasure." Their houses were of rough logs, windowless, roofed with thatch, and notable chiefly as firetraps, for the fire was built in the center of the floor with no smoke vent other than a hole in the roof. SOCI.AL LIFE CEN-TERED IN THE ME.AD HALL With the passage of years and the in- crease of wealth the Saxon nobles built nu- merous mead halls, similar to the one de- scribed in Beowulf, the English national epic. Mead, the favorite drink of the war- riors, was a rich ale brewed from honey. After the hunt or fight the mighty thanes, or followers of the king, would gather in the central hall for rest, refreshment, and cele- bration. This hall was usually rectangular, its pointed roof being held up by two length- wise rows of pillars. Down the center of the floor ran a shallow trench in which the fires were built. Flanking the fires were two long tables, mere boards on trestles, removable when the feast was over : the thanes went to sleep on the raised tiers behind the pillars. At mealtimes the guests usually sat along the outer edge of the tables in order to face the fires. In the early days the mead was drunk from the horns of animals, but later from flagons of heay wood or metal. Great joints of meat, eaten with the aid of only fingers and a hunting knife, formed the main dish at the feast. In spite of all the crudeness of manner, there was yet a touch of dignified ceremony, as when the queen herself passed the mead cup to the warriors.
  • 52. 30 THE ANGLO-SAXON AGE After the feasting the chief entertainment was provided by the scop (Hterally '' a shaper "), or gleeman, who sang to the ac- companiment of his simple harp a stirring tale of some great hero. EARLY LITERATURE A favorite hero was Beowulf, the story of whose life forms the great epic of Anglo- Saxon literature. The old pagan poetry was passed from mouth to mouth by these scops, or gleemen, and was not put into writing until the establishment of Christian monasteries j'ears afterward. Only a little of it sur-ives. Some of the best is included in this book. There are two distinct periods of Anglo-Saxon literature: the pagan poetry of the fifth and sixth centuries and the Christian literature, both prose and poetry, from the seventh to the eleventh. The first has two qualities: sometimes a rather grim nature worship, and often the pervading gloom or melancholy of the Anglo-Saxon mind. THE ANGLO-SAXONS Toward the end of the sixth century Pope Gregory at Rome decided to try the power of Christian missionaries against the might of Thor and Woden and the Anglo-Saxon nature gods. It is said that as a bishop he had encountered certain fair-haired slaves in the Roman market place and, on being told their nationality, had exclaimed, " Not Angles, but angels! " In 597 he sent to Eng- land a small band of monks headed by Au- gustine, who later became the first Arch- bishop of Canterbury-. Augustine converted King Ethelbert of Kent and all his court, and about a thousand of Ethelbert's sub- jects were baptized. Augustine then built a church at Canterbury. Over a century later the Venerable Bede. " the father of our English learning " and the great prose writer of that time, told how the early English felt toward conversion. Here are the words of a Northumbrian noble: So, King, does the present Ufe of man on earth seem to me, in comparison with the time which is unknown to us, as though a sparrow flew swiftly through the hall, coming in by one door and going out by the other, and you, the while, sat at meat with your captains and liege- men, in wintr>' weather, with a fire burning in your midst and heating the room, the storm raging out of doors and dri-ing snow and rain before it. For the time for which he is within, the bird is sheltered from the storm, but after this short while of calm he flies out again into the cold and is seen no more. Thus the life of man is visible for a moment, but we know not what comes before it or follows after it. If, then, this new doctrine brings something more of cer- tainty, it deser-es to be followed. Later certain Christian Irish missionaries journeyed to the Northumbrian coast (see map, page 28) and established a chain of monasteries which became the chief center of literature for some time. One of the most celebrated was Whitby, under the Abbess Hilda: in another, Jarrow, the Venerable Bede lived and wrote. He tells how Caed- mon, an ignorant cowherd who lived at ^Miitby, fled once from a feast where he was required to sing. While he was crouching in a cowbyre, an angel appeared and com- manded him to sing. Thus he composed his most famous hymn. You can imagine him, after that, striding the wild, wind-swept headland above the North Sea as he com- posed his Bible chants. Although Bede wrote chiefly in Latin, he is considered our first writer of prose; and Caedmon is the first identified Anglo-Saxon poet. Both of them were Northumbrian. ALFRED RESISTS THE DANES Though an earlier king had claimed sov- ereignty over all England, it was not until 871 that the nation was really united under an able ruler. King Alfred of Wessex (849- 901). His was undoubtedly the strongest personality of the Anglo-Saxon period. Known as Alfred the Great, he was a com- bination of bold warrior, wise ruler, astute lawmaker, foresighted educator, and ver- satile man of letters. In his youth a journey to Rome gave him ideas concerning a better civilization for his own country. Upon his accession to the throne the Danes were an
  • 53. ALFRED RESISTS THE DANES immediate and terrible menace. They had already invaded Wessex and were sweepinii down on all England. These hated North- men, the Vikings, were the most daring sailors of that day. They voyaged in small shield-walled black skiffs with lug .sails, forty warriors to a ship, which was steered by a long steering-sweep. These dreaded black ships crept up peaceful rivers and left behind them the smoking ruins of homes. To combat this enemy, .Alfred built large ships — the beginning of the English navy. He also developed a well-organized army. The Danes hated Christianity and all its evidences. They plundered and razed the monasteries of Lindisfarne, Jarrow. Mel- rose, and Whitby, destroying many manu- scripts. They crushed Anglo-Saxon litera- ture in the North, where it had chiefly existed. Finally they came to rule England, until they were defeated by Alfred. In cele- bration of this victory over the Danes, a White Horse, the emblem of the English at that time, was carved in the chalky subsoil of a steep hillside in Berkshire. In his long poem " The Ballad of the White Horse," Gilbert K. Chesterton gives this stirring description of Alfred's heroic stand: A MKI.NG. Fiircc fighting men, like this one, often pillaged the eastern shore of Britain. (Culver Service) The Northmen came about our land A Christless chivalry: Who knew not of the arch or pen. Great, beautiful, half-witted men From the sunrise and the sea. Misshapen ships stood on the deep Full of strange gold and fire, And hairy men as huge as sin. With horned heads, came wading in Through the long, low sea-mire. Then Alfred, King of England, Bade blow the horns of war, And flung the Golden Dragon out, With crackle and acclaim and shout, Scrolled and aflame and far. " Brothers at arms," said Alfred, " On this side lies the foe. Are slavery and starvation flowers That you should pluck them so? " Or that before the red cock crow, All we, a thousand strong. Go down the dark road to God's house, Singing a Wessex song? " When .Alfred's word was ended. Stood firm that feeble line. Each in his place with club or spear, And fury deeper than deep fear, And smiles as sour as brine. Wild stared the Danes at the double ways W'here they loitered, all at large, As that dark line for the last time Doubled the knee to charge — • And caught their weapons clumsily, And marvelled how and why — In such degree, by rule and rod, The people of the peace of God Went roaring down to die.