He is aroused from these abstractions by the report that the dread Bastile has fallen; and from the wreck he sees a golden palace rise

The appointed seat of equitable law The mild paternal sway ... from the blind mist issuing I beheld Glory, beyond all glory ever seen.

In _Queen Mab_ Sh.e.l.ley has a somewhat similar phrase:

Hope was seen beaming through the mists of fear.

He thus becomes interested once more in life; and joins in the chorus of Liberty singing in every grove.

War shall cease Did ye not hear that conquest is abjured?

Bring garlands, bring forth choicest flowers, to deck The tree of Liberty.[186]

Society then became his bride and "airy hopes" his children. Although no Gallic blood flows in his veins, still not less than Gallic zeal burns among "the sapless twigs of his exhausted heart." He is in entire sympathy with the plans and aspirations of the revolutionists, and he feels that a progeny of golden years is about to descend and bless mankind. All the hopes of the Solitary, though, are blasted. He is disgusted with the way in which the revolution is progressing and sets sail for America, where he expects to find freedom from the restraints of tyranny. Sh.e.l.ley writes about America as follows:

There is a people mighty in its youth.

A land beyond the oceans of the west Where, though with rudest rites, Freedom and Truth Are worshipped.[187]

The Solitary's expectations are not fulfilled, and so he returns, despondent, to his own country. He is in this frame of mind when he meets the Wanderer, who tells him that the only adequate support for the calamities of life is belief in Providence. Victory, the Wanderer says, is sure if we strive to yield entire submission to the law of conscience. He compares the force of gravity, which constrains the stars in their motions, to the principle of duty in the life of man. In Act IV of _Prometheus Unbound_ Sh.e.l.ley compares the force of gravity to the impulse of love. There is no cause for despair, and "the loss of confidence in social man." The beginning of the revolution had raised man's hopes unwarrantably high. As there was no cause then for such exalted confidence, so there is none now for fixed despair.

The two extremes are equally disowned By reason.

One should have patience and courage. It is folly to expect the accomplishment in one day of "what all the slowly moving years of time have left undone." In the preface to _The Revolt of Islam_ Sh.e.l.ley writes: "But such a degree of unmingled good was expected (from the revolution) as it was impossible to realize.... Could they listen to the plea of reason who had groaned under the calamities of a social state according to the provisions of which one man riots in luxury whilst another famishes for want of bread? Can he who the day before was a trampled slave suddenly become liberal-minded? This is the consequence of the habits of a state of society to be produced by resolute perseverance and indefatigable hope, and long-suffering and long-believing courage, and the systematic efforts of generations of men of intellect and virtue." The Wanderer exhorts the Solitary to engage in bodily exercise and to study nature. He contrasts the dignity of the imagination with the presumptuous littleness of certain modern philosophers. At this point the Solitary remarks that it is impossible for some to rise again; that the mind is not free. It is as vain to ask a man to resolve as bid a creature fly "whose very sorrow is that time hath shorn his natural wings." The Wanderer replies that the ways of restoration are manifold

fashioned to the steps Of all infirmity, and tending all To the same point, attainable by all Peace in ourselves and union with our G.o.d.

The Wanderer calls upon the skies and hills to testify to the existence of G.o.d. Wordsworth the Wanderer finds an answer for Wordsworth the Solitary in Nature. He sees that there is a Living Spirit in Nature; a spirit which animates all things, from "the meanest flower that blows" to the glorious birth of sunshine; a spirit which pervades matter and gives to each its distinctive life and being. He sees G.o.d in everything.

To every form of being is a.s.signed An _active principle_ ...

... from link to link It circulates the soul of all the worlds.[188]

Sh.e.l.ley, in a letter to Hogg, January 3, 1812, speaks about "the soul of the Universe, the intelligent and necessarily beneficent _actuating principle_."

Wordsworth's treatment of nature is original in this that nature is no longer viewed as a garden or laboratory where man's processes are carried on, but she is recognized as being over and above him and penetrating his whole life by impulses that emanate from her. Wordsworth spiritualizes nature. He views her phenomena as so many "varying manifestations of one life sacred, great, and all-pervading. "This life of nature is felt more when man is alone with her and hence the love of solitude which marks the Wordsworthian habit of mind."[189] Other characteristics of Wordsworth besides the love for Nature's seclusion are "the reverence which sees in her a revelation of infinity and the recognition in her of a mysterious and poetic life." These are also characteristics of Sh.e.l.ley. His love of solitude is inspired by the desire to know nature in her inmost heart; "he has the same feeling for infinite expanse and the same perception of an underlying life." He also insists, like Wordsworth, on "the education of nature."

In the preface to _Alastor_, Sh.e.l.ley says that the subject of the poem represents a youth "led forth by an imagination inflamed and purified through familiarity with all that is excellent and majestic, to the contemplation of the universe.... The magnificence and beauty of the external world sinks profoundly into the frame of his conceptions and affords to their modifications a variety not to be exhausted." In the introductory stanzas, Sh.e.l.ley asks this great parent, Nature, to inspire him that his "strain may modulate with murmurs of the air." He tells us, too, "that every sight and sound from the vast earth and ambient air sent to his heart its choicest blessings." Wordsworth says, in _Lines on Tintern Abbey_, that

Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life to lead From joy to joy; for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.

In the Prelude, Wordsworth speaks of the influence of nature as follows:

Wisdom and spirit of the universe!

That soul that art the eternity of thought.

That givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion, not in vain By day or star-light thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The pa.s.sions that build up our human soul.

This and the _Intimations of Immortality_ remind us of the following pa.s.sage in _Queen Mab_:

Soul of the Universe! eternal spring Of life and death, of happiness and woe, Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene That floats before our eyes in wavering light, Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison, Whose chains and ma.s.sy walls We feel, but cannot see.

Wordsworth goes into the woods and hears a thousand notes all making sweet music, all in harmony. Furthermore, he feels that all living things, flowers and animals, are possessed of conscious life.

And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.

(_Lines written in early spring._)

Nature is throbbing not only with life but with the spirit of love, a spirit that knits the whole world of living things together.

Love, now a universal birth, From heart to heart is stealing, From earth to man, from man to earth.

(_To my sister._)

The same thought runs through many of Sh.e.l.ley's poems. In _The Sensitive Plant_ the flowers live, love, and die.

But none ever trembled and panted with bliss In the garden, the field, or the wilderness, Like a doe in the noontide, with love's sweet want, As the companionless sensitive plant.

The beauty and loveliness of nature will do us more good "than all the sages can." They will inspire us as nothing else will.

Dr. Ackermann draws attention to the kindness of Wordsworth and Sh.e.l.ley for animals, and notes the similarity between the two following pa.s.sages.[190] Thus Wordsworth in _The Excursion_, II, 41-47:

Birds and beasts And the mute fish that glances in the stream And harmless reptile coiling in the sun ... he loved them all: Their rights acknowledging he felt for all.

And Sh.e.l.ley in _Alastor_, 13-15:

If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast I consciously have injured, but still loved And cherished these my kindred.

Wordsworth concludes _The Excursion_ and Sh.e.l.ley the _Alastor_ with the desire for death.

With the name of Wordsworth, the name of that greater genius, Coleridge, will always be linked. Although they were life-long friends still no two could be more unlike in character and temperament. Wordsworth was moody and determined. He, like Sh.e.l.ley, worked out his plans unmindful of the opinion of others. Neglect and ridicule did not trouble him in the least.

He was an excellent type of _mens sana in corpore sano_. Coleridge, on the other hand, was without ambition and steadiness of purpose. He drifted on through life in a listless manner, "sometimes committing a golden thought to the blank leaf of a book, or to a private letter, but generally content with oral communication."[191] At an early age he had accomplished great things and it was felt that these were but "the morning giving promise of a glorious day." He was scarcely thirty when he won distinction as a poet, journalist, lecturer, theologian, critic and philosopher. The "glorious day," however, never matured. Sickness and opium were the clouds that obscured the brightness of his genius. His married life was not a happy one. As in the case of Sh.e.l.ley, jealousy and irritation on the part of the wife, and disenchantment on the part of the husband made home-life intolerable.

One of the earliest manifestations of Coleridge's radicalism is his _Ode on the Destruction of the Bastile_, written in 1789. In it he rejoices at the overthrow of tyranny and the success of Freedom. Liberty with all her attendant virtues will now be the portion of all.

Yes! Liberty the soul of life shall reign, Shall throb in every pulse, shall flow thro' every vein!

He hopes that she will extend her influence wider and wider until every land shall boast "one independent soul." In his _Ode to France_ he writes:

With what deep worship I have still adored The spirit of divinest Liberty.

Sh.e.l.ley may have had this in mind when he wrote in _Alastor_

And lofty hopes of divine liberty Thoughts the most dear to him.

Coleridge's most important radical work, which Lamb considered to be more than worthy of Milton, is _Religious Musings_. Sh.e.l.ley's _Queen Mab_ bears so strong a resemblance to it that the _Religious Musings_ has been called Coleridge's _Queen Mab_. In the first part he lashes his countrymen for joining the coalition against France under pretence of defending religion.

Further on he gives his views on society, its origin and progress. It is to private property that we must attribute all the sore ills that desolate our mortal life. Unlike many radicals, however, Coleridge can see the good in an inst.i.tution as well as the evil. Thus he holds that the rivalry resulting from our present economic condition has stimulated thought and action

From avarice thus, from luxury and war, Sprang heavenly science; and from science freedom.

The innumerable mult.i.tude of wrongs, continues Coleridge, by man on man inflicted, cry to heaven for vengeance. Even now (1796) the storm begins which will cast to earth the rich, the great, and all the mighty men of the world. This will be followed by a period of sunshine, when Love will return and peace and happiness be the portion of all.

As when a shepherd on a vernal morn Through some thick fog creeps timorous with slow foot, Darkling with earnest eyes he traces out The immediate road, all else of fairest kind Hid or deformed. But lo! the bursting Sun!

Touched by the enchantment of that sudden beam Straight the black vapor melteth, and in globes Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree: On every leaf, on every blade it hangs; And wide around the landscape streams with glory!