feeble woman, but I have the heart and "This scepter'd isle, its influence on the language has never yet This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world." Shakespeare had come to London two years before the destruction of the Armada, and the intense feeling of national exultation it produced beats with a full pulse not only in this passage, but throughout the whole of his historical plays. Britain, as champion of the Reformation, had, however, not only defeated Catholic Europe, and reached a position of peerless renown in the Old World. She had become mistress of the seas, and thus commanded the ocean-paths to the New World, the El Dorado in the far golden West, which successful maritime adventure had revealed, and whose untold treasures daring English navigators were beginning to explore. This acted as a powerful additional stimulus to the intellect and imagination of the nation. It enlarged men's minds, widened their moral horizon, and inspired them with the confident hope of destroying established forms of error, and discovering new continents of truth. The strong and sustained intellectual reaction of the whole movement produced, in the short space of a quarter of a century, those unrivalled masterpieces of literature which constitute the glorious Elizabethan age. The direct connexion of the whole Reformation movement with the great productive period of our literature is well known, and has been pretty fully investigated; but Another way in which the Reformation had a direct effect on the language was by the amount of controversy it provoked, by the extensive literature of attack and reply, of polemical dissertations, pamphlets, and broadsides it produced. The appeal in these discussions being a popular one, had a twofold effect on the language, helping both to simplify its structure and to give prominence to the strictly vernacular elements of the The free use of the vernacular speech was obviously indispensable to the progress of such a movement; and it may be said, without exaggeration, that the whole literature of reflection and instruction assumed a national dress in this country a century earlier than on the Continent. vocabulary. Sir Thomas More, and John | aim being to stimulate the one and inform Bale, bishop of Ossory, represent the ex- the other. Translators and controversialists, tremes of this controversial literature, the for- historians and expositors, alike recognise mer being a bigoted Romanist, and the latter the direct interest of the nation in the cona rabid Protestant. In point of taste and flict of opinions, and maintain the ultimate temper there is perhaps not a pin to choose authority of its judgment in deciding the between them, both being singularly eloquent questions at issue. This is true of all classes, in the coarse rhetoric of vituperation and from the headstrong monarch himself, who unmeasured personal abuse. Nor are they ordered that copies of the English Scripwithout points of resemblance in other and tures should be placed in all the churches of higher respects. The English Chancellor the land for public use, and the Queen, who is the more quick-witted, learned, and ac- caused Erasmus' paraphrase to be translacomplished disputant, as well as the more ted, "that all English people may to their voluminous writer. In his great polemic health and ghostly consolacion, be abundantagainst Tyndale he discusses the points at ly replenyshed with the frute thereof," and issue with an exhaustive minuteness of detail to be circulated in a similar manner, down that would become wearisome but for the to the nameless authors of popular broadlively play of fancy, the grave wit and fer- sides and satirical doggrel, written in Skel tility of humorous illustration that relieve tonical verse. the tedium of his argument and soften the bitterness of his invective. He is, moreover, naturally fond of argument, cunning of logical fence, and displays even a kind of scholastic subtlety in defending against his opponent the use of images, modern Romish miracles, and the doctrine of the sacraments. The Irish bishop has none of More's dialectical skill, and hardly attempts anything like serious or sustained argument, his numerous polemical writings consisting rather of historical facts and loose declamation, passing not unfrequently into coarse but vigorous invective. But More and Bale have in common certain rhetorical characteristics that will entitle them to a place in the history of English prose during the first half of the sixteenth century. They both possess a great command over the resources of colloquial and idiomatic English, and write with an ease, animation, and freedom which is very rarely to be found at this early period. The necessity of popular appeal gives to their style a flexibility and directness that brings the written literary language much nearer to the spoken tongue than had hitherto been the case. The change is complete in those of the reformers who, like Latimer, helped the movement chiefly by oral discourse. What is true of More and Bale is true in a degree of the other early writers who took a leading part in the struggle, such as Frith and Barnes, Ridley and Tyndale; but none of their works-not even those of Tyndale, who writes with unfailing purity and vigour -have the vivacity and popular interest which belong to the style of More and Bale. The important fact, however, is that in the whole controversy, as indeed in all the effective writing of the time, the appeal is made, not to the judgment or the prejudices of a sect or profession, but to the reason and conscience of the nation at large, the avowed How intense and influential was the awakened spirit of nationality which thus expressed itself in the Reformation, is further apparent from the striking fact, that it at once absorbed and turned to popular account the two great continental influences that for a time arrested the progress of the native literature in the other countries of Europe. These influences were those arising from the enormous revolution effected in the means and mechanism of intellectual culture by the revival of letters and the invention of printing. On the Continent, these influences operated for half a century at least as a powerful denationalizing force. The early presses of France, Germany, and Italy, but especially of the two latter countries, were largely occupied in the production of accurate classical texts, while many of the ablest minds were absorbed in the necessary work of textual revision, criticism, and explanation. But in England, for half a century after the introduction of printing, the works issued by Caxton and his associates were all, with insignificant exceptions, in the vernacular tongue, all identified with the native literature, either as original works or effective translations. These early English presses multiplied copies of Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate, of Trevisa's translation of Higden, and other prose works of interest, and thus supplied for the first time the ma terials of a literary culture at once national in its basis and popular in its range. In the same way, under the over-mastering influence of what continental critics would probably call the insular spirit, the new classical literature itself was speedily turned The ver were translated immediately from the French. With regard to the versions from Greek authors, it is true indeed that Thucydides, Aristotle's Politics, and Plutarch's Lives fangled study, tried to expel the first teachers | beauty, grandeur, and power. His dramas of the offensive tongue, and clung tenaciously illustrate the resources and capabilities, as long as possible to their scholastic curricu- the matchless grace and loveliness, the fresh lum, in all its medieval integrity. What and exhilarating life, the muscular strength the obscure monastic pedants of the univer- and sinewy flexibility, of the fully-formed sities were for a time characteristically slow English tongue. They exhibit the language to attempt, popular enthusiasm, with the in its perfect bloom and vigour, when for help of a few liberal, enlightened, and indus- the first time it had become fully equal to trious scholars, speedily accomplished. Be all the demands of the thinker and the poet. fore the end of the century, the substance of classical literature, the contents of the great masterpieces of antiquity, both in prose and verse, were placed within the reach of all who had any taste for letters, and could read their native tongue. To meet the varied requirements of these translations, all the scattered and hitherto neglected elements of the language were not only called into requisition, but attained a certain degree of currency by being employed in works of general interest. All its accumulated stores of characteristic and expressive terms, provincial, archaic, colloquial, and professional, would obviously be required to render effectively such poets as Homer and Ovid, and such prose writers as Plutarch and Pliny. The influx of words during this period-some few exotics, but the great majority native-was indeed so great that no English lexicographer has been able even yet to collect and register them all. Nay, the works of a single industrious translator, Philemon Holland, master of the Coventry Grammar School, whose versions fill five or six dense folios, contain a mine of linguistic wealth which the recent labours of accomplished and zealous students, such as Archbishop Trench and Mr. Marsh, have not half explored. Not only the new literatures, however, but new discoveries and inventions, new ideas and conceptions, new aims and aspirations, new feelings, hopes, and imaginations, required new words and new combinations for their adequate expression. These requirements were fully met, and in a few years the language of reflection became as rich and copious as that of imagination. These accumulated materials of expressive diction prepared the way for the works of original genius and creative power that followed. The difficult task which Dante had to execute for himself, that of creating a literary language out of a number of rustic dialects, Shakespeare found done to his hand. At the time when he entered on his dramatic career, the language was exactly in the state best fitted for all the purposes of the poet,-rich, various, and expressive, but still plastic to the touch, yielding readily to the impress of genius, and capable of being moulded into forms of exquisite The period of the Revolution brought great changes to the language and the liter ature, and the change affected the language even more than the literature. Politically, it was a period of reaction after a violent and protracted struggle, towards the close of which, notwithstanding the gains and losses on either side, little real progress seemed to have been made. Not the licen tious reaction of exhaustion and indifference that marked the Restoration, but the reac tion of sobriety and vigilance natural to men tired of useless and disappointing experiments in government, and determined at all costs to establish the constitutional liberties of the country on a settled basis. But on its literary side the period retained and developed many of the characteristics impressed upon it at the Restoration. The domestic struggles incident to the peaceful revolution that changed the reigning dy nasty, and the aggressive foreign policy it naturally produced, absorbed for a time the attention of the country, leaving its relaxed intellectual energies to follow the secondary influences of taste and fashion belonging to the Restoration period. During the interval between the Restoration and the Revolution, literature being no longer stirred by rational impulses, became an affair of society, of the Court, and of the town. Unfortunately the monarch and his Court were total strangers to anything like national sentiment and patriotic feeling, having spent their lives abroad, and acquired French tastes and habits at the very time when France was both politically and intellectu ally almost supreme in Europe. This increased the effect which the brilliant literature of the French Augustan age would naturally have had upon our own in a season of lassitude and reaction. The corrupt taste of the Court naturally tended, moreover, to bring into vogue the more superficial, witty, and licentious forms of contemporary French literature, and for a time the literary favourites of the Court, in their loose songs, impudent comedy, and fantastio inflated tragedy, fell into a servile imitation of degraded French models. Lord Macaulay has indeed suggested that the French fashions of the Court affected the diction as well as the spirit and char that infected the fashionable conversation of the time. The breadth and vigour of the exposure may be gathered from the following extract: "Mel. O, are you there, Minion? And, well, are not you a most precious damsel, to retard all my visits for want of language, when you know you are paid so well for furnishing me with new words for my daily conversation? Let me die, if I have not run the risque already, to speak like one of the vulgar; and if I have one phrase left in all my store that is not threadbare and usé, and fit for nothing but to be thrown to peasants. Phil. Indeed, madam, I have been very diligent in my vocation: but you have so drained all the French plays and romances, that they are not able to supply you with words for your daily expense. "Mel. Drained? What a word's there! Epuisée, you sot you. Come, produce your morning's work. "Phil. 'Tis here, madai. [Shows the paper. "Mel. O, my Venus! fourteen or fifteen words to serve me a whole day! Let me die, at this rate I cannot last till night. Come, read your words, twenty to one half of 'em will not pass muster neither. [Reads. acteristic forms of literature, and, after us. Their talent is to prescribe fashions, not words; at best they are only serviceable to a writer, so as Ennius was to Virgil. We may aurum ex stercore colligere, for 'tis hard if, amongst many insignificant phrases, there happen not something worth preserving, though they themselves, like Indians, know not the value of their own commodity." Again, in the comedy of Marriage-àla-Mode, he introduces Melantha, an affected fine lady of the day, for the very purpose of ridiculing the vulgar rage for Gallicisms "Phil. Sottises. "Mel. Sottises: bon. That's an excellent word to begin withal: as for example: He or she said a thousand sottises to me. Proceed, "Phil. Figure: as, What a figure of a man is there! "Mel, Naive! as how? "Phil. Speaking of a thing that was naturally said: It was so naive. Or such an innocent piece of simplicity: 'Twas such a naiveté. "Mel. Truce with your interpretations. Make haste. "Phil. Foible, chagrin, grimace, embarasse, suite, beveue, façon, penchant, coup d'etourdy, double-entendre, équivoque, éclaircissement, and ridicule. “Mel. Hold, hold; how did they begin? "Phil. They began at sottises, and ended en ridicule. "Mel. Now give me your paper in my hand, and hold you my glass, while I practise my postures for the day. [Melantha laughs in the glass.] How does that laugh become my face? "Phil. Sovereignly well, madam. "Mel. Sovereignly? Let me die, that's not amiss. That word shall not be yours: I'll invent it, and bring it up myself. My new point gorget shall be yours upon 't. Not a word of the word, I charge you. "Phil. I am dumb, madam." It will be seen that many of the terms and phrases in this extract, stigmatized by Melantha's maid as French gibberish, have passed into the language since Dryden's day, and are now in habitual use. Foible, caprice, grimace, and ridicule, for example, are good English words, constantly employed by the best writers, probably without any suspicion of their comparatively recent introduction. This is true of many |