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CHAPTER XVIII.

AKENSIDE'S "PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION;" FALCONER'S "SHIPWRECK;" GRAINGER'S "SUGAR-CANE.” "THE TASK," BY WILLIAM COWPER.

MARK AKENSIDE was born in 1721, and died in the year of the birth of Wordsworth. He was the son of a butcher at Newcastle, was educated at Edinburgh for the dissenting ministry, but took to medicine, and after three years at the University of Edinburgh, studied for another three years at Leyden, where his poetical tastes won him the friendship of a richer fellow-student, Mr. Dyson, who was studying law. Akenside graduated at Leyden as M.D., and was helped by his friend Dyson to establish himself in London practice as a physician. He had poetical instincts that struggled almost in vain against those conventions of his time which he had not strength to subdue to the higher uses of his genius. He assumed only too readily the outward airs of gravity and dignity and erudition that were thought useful aids to success as a physician, and he was weak enough to be ashamed of a slight lameness, because it recalled his father's shop, in which it had been caused when he was a child. When Akenside was at Leyden he was a poet with young blood in his veins, and his friend Dyson was justified in looking with high expectation to his future. "The Pleasures of Imagination," when published by him in its first form in 1744, was the work of a young man, then twenty-three years old, and although suggested by the taste for criticism, it took its departure creditably from such criticism as Addison's, when he inquired into the source of any delight in works of imagination. The poem was, in fact, suggested by Addison's eleven essays on "Imagination" in The Spectator; and with the religious tone underlying all Addison's reasonings Akenside was in sympathy. The earnestness of the strain helped its success, and its half philosophical form and sounding rhetoric-not altogether empty sound-made it the more welcome to readers of that day. The work was often reprinted, and then Akenside set about re-writing it, and was still at work on the completion of it in its second form when he died, in 1770. A stronger man would have been content with slight occasional revision of his early work, and would have passed on to other and larger efforts in his later years. This is Akenside's own setting forth of the design of his poem :

There are certain powers in human nature which seem to hold a middle place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral perception: they have been called by a very general name, the Powers of Imagination. Like the external senses, they relate to matter and motion; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to those of moral approbation and dislike. As they are the inlets of some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers have sought means to recall the delightful perceptions which they afford, independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave rise to the imitative or designing arts; some of which, as painting

and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were admired in nature; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to remembrance by signs universally established and understood.

But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were of course led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of the imaginative powers; especially poetry, which, making use of language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being. Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they of course retain their original character; and all the different pleasures which they excite are termed, in general, Pleasures of Imagination.

The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the largest acceptation of the term; so that whatever our imagination feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various entertainment we meet with either in poetry, painting, music, or any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of those principles in the constitution of the human mind, which are here established and explained.

In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to distinguish the imagination from our other faculties; and in the next place to characterize those original forms or properties of being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. These properties Mr. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of greatness, novelty, and beauty; and into these we may analyse every object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to the imagination. But such an object may also include many other sources of pleasure; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will make a stronger impression by reason of this concurrence. Besides which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems we meet with either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of contrivance and final causes; or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to awaken and engage the passions. It was therefore necessary to enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure; especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the

appearance.

After these parts of the subject, which hold chiefly of admiration, or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to distinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of characters is derived. Here too a change of style became necessary; such a one as might yet be consistent, if possible, with the general taste of composition in the serious parts of the subject; nor

is it any task to give any tolerable force to images of this kind, without running either into the gigantic expressions of the mock-heroic, or the familiar and poetical raillery of professed satire; neither of which would have been proper here.

The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise either from the relations of different objects one to another, or from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts of the material and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of metaphor and wit. As it seems in a great measure to depend on the early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, it is therefore mentioned here and its effects described. Then follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral usefulness in life.

Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two models; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as it is refined by Virgil in the Georgics, and the familiar epistolary way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a greater variety of style; it more readily engages the generality of readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation; and, especially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and inore concise expression. Add to this the example of the most perfect of modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style. This too appeared more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation; as, by exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and harmonise the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, morals, and civil life. 'Tis on this account that he is so careful to point out the benevolent intention of the Author of Nature in every principle of the human constitution here insisted on; and also to unite the moral excellences of life in the same point of view with the mere external objects of good taste; thus recommending them in common to our natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful and lovely. The same views have also led him to introduce some sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to the subject; but, since they bear an obvious relation to it, the authority of Virgil (the faultless model of didactic poetry) will best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves he makes no apology.

These lines may be taken as fair illustration of the style and spirit of the poem :

Say, why was man so eminently raised
Amid the vast Creation; why impowered
Through life and death to dart his watchful eye,
With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame;

But that the Omnipotent might send him forth,
In sight of angels and immortal minds,
As on an ample theatre to join

In contest with his equals, who shall best
The task achieve, the course of noble toils,
By Wisdom and by Mercy pre-ordained ?
Might send him forth the sovran good to learn ;
To chase each meaner purpose from his breast;
And through the mists of passion and of sense,
And through the pelting storms of chance and pain,
To hold straight on with constant heart and eye
Still fixed upon his everlasting palm,

The approving smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns
In mortal bosoms this unquenchéd hope,
That seeks from day to day sublimer ends;
Happy, though restless? Why departs the soul
Wide from the track and journey of her times,
To grasp the good she knows not? In the field
Of things which may be, in the spacious field
Of science, potent arts, or dreadful arms,
To raise up scenes in which her own desires
Contented may repose; when things, which are,
Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale :
Her temper, still demanding to be free;
Spurning the rude control of wilful might,
Proud of her dangers braved, her griefs endured,
Her strength severely proved? To these high aims,
Which reason and affection prompt in man,
Not adverse nor unapt hath Nature framed
His bold imagination. For, amid

The various forms which this full world presents
Like rivals to his choice, what human breast
E'er doubts, before the transient and minute,
To prize the vast, the stable, the sublime?
Who, that from heights aërial sends his eye
Around a wild horizon, and surveys

Indus or Ganges rolling his broad wave
Through mountains, plains, through spacious cities old,
And regions dark with woods; will turn away
To mark the path of some penurious rill

Which murmureth at his feet? Where does the soul
Consent her soaring fancy to restrain,

Which bears her up, as on an eagle's wings,
Destined for highest Heaven; or which of fate's
Tremendous barriers shall confine her flight
To any humbler quarry? The rich earth
Cannot detain her; nor the ambient air
With all its changes. For a while with joy
She hovers o'er the sun, and views the small
Attendant orbs, beneath his sacred beam,
Emerging from the deep, like clustered isles
Whose rocky shores to the glad sailor's eye
Reflect the gleams of morning: for a while
With pride she sees his firm, paternal sway
Bend the reluctant planets to move each
Round its perpetual year. But soon she quits
That prospect: meditating loftier views,
She darts adventurous up the long career
Of comets; through the constellations holds
Her course, and now looks back on all the stars
Whose blended flames as with a milky stream
Part the blue region. Empyrean tracts,
Where happy souls beyond this concave heaven
Abide, she then explores, whence purer light
For countless ages travels through the abyss,
Nor hath in sight of mortals yet arrived.
Upon the wide Creation's utmost shore

At length she stands, and the dread space beyond
Contemplates, half-recoiling: nathless down
The gloomy void, astonished, yet unquelled,
She plungeth; down the unfathomable gulph
Where God alone hath being. There her hopes
Rest at the fated goal. For, from the birth
Of human kind, the Sovran Maker said
That not in humble, nor in brief delight,
Not in the fleeting echoes of renown,

Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap,
The soul should find contentment; but, from these
Turning disdainful to an equal good,

Through Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim,
Till every bound at length should disappear,
And infinite perfection fill the scene.

When Archibald Campbell, a ship's purser, wrote in imitation of Lucian a dialogue, "Lexiphanes," in ridicule of Latin-English and the pretentious roll of the rhetoric then slowly passing into disrepute, he took Akenside as representative in verse of that which he burlesqued in the prose style of Johnson's Rambler.

William Falconer, the author of "The Shipwreck," had been at sea with Archibald Campbell as his servant when he was ship's purser. Campbell saw part of his worth, and helped to add something to his scanty education. Falconer was about nine years younger than Akenside, son of a poor barber at Edinburgh, and the only one of his children who was not deaf and dumb. When very young he was apprenticed on board a merchant vessel at Leith, and had risen to be second mate, when he joined a vessel in the Levant trade that was wrecked on its passage from Alexandria to Venice, with loss of all hands except three men, of whom William Falconer was one. In the spring of 1762 Falconer published his chief poem, "The Shipwreck." It was dedicated to the Duke of York, who helped him to exchange out of the merchant service into the navy. In the autumn he was a midshipman on board the Royal George. In 1763 he became purser of a 32gun frigate, the Glory. Upon this he married, and in 1764 he published an improved edition of his poem. He was happy in his marriage, but not in his fortunes, until 1768, when he was appointed purser of the Aurora frigate, bound to India with three gentleman who were to see to the affairs of the East India Company, and to one of whom he hoped to be attached as secretary. The Aurora

sailed from England on the 30th of September, 1769, and, after touching at the Cape upon its way, was never again heard of. The poet of "Shipwreck " died by shipwreck when he was not quite forty years old. In the introduction to his poem thus William Falconer wrote of himself and of his song:

With living colours give my verse to glow,
The sad memorial of a tale of woe!
The fate in lively sorrow to deplore

Of wanderers shipwrecked on a leeward shore.
Alas! neglected by the sacred Nine,
Their suppliant feels no genial ray divine:
Ah, will they leave Pieria's happy shore

To plough the tide where wintry tempests roar?

Or shall a youth approach their hallowed fane,
Stranger to Phoebus and the tuneful train?
Far from the Muses' academic grove,
'Twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove;
Alternate change of climates has he known,
And felt the fierce extremes of either zone,
Where polar skies congeal the eternal snow,
Or equinoctial suns for ever glow;
Smote by the freezing, or the scorching blast,
"A ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,"
From regions where Peruvian billows roar,
To the bleak coasts of savage Labrador;
From where Damascus, pride of Asian plains,
Stoops her proud neck beneath tyrannic chains,
To where the Isthmus laved by adverse tides
Atlantic and Pacific seas divides.

But while he measured o'er the painful race
In Fortune's wild illimitable chase,
Adversity, companion of his way,

Still o'er the victim hung with iron sway;
Bade new distresses every instant grow,
Marking each change of place with change of woe.
In regions where the Almighty's chastening hand
With livid Pestilence afflicts the land,

Or where pale Famine blasts the hopeful year,
Parent of want and misery severe;

Or where, all dreadful in the embattled line,
The hostile ships in flaming contact join;
Where the torn vessel wind and waves assail,
Till o'er her crew distress and death prevail-
Such joyless toils in early youth endured,
The expanding dawn of mental day obscured,
Each genial passion of the soul oppressed,
And quenched the ardour kindling in his breast.
Then censure not severe the native song,
Though jarring sounds the measured verse prolong;
Though terms uncouth offend the softer ear,
Let truth and human anguish deign to hear.
No laurel wreath the lays attempt to claim,
Nor sculptured brass to tell the poet's name.

Falconer's poem is in Three Cantos. In the First,

A ship from Egypt o'er the deep impelled
By guiding winds, her course for Venice held.

It was the ship in which he suffered wreck. It ertered the haven of Candia, where the poet saw the once happy island ruined by oppression of the Turk. The trading ship was here four days becalmed in harbour. Falconer describes its three chief officers. Albert, the captain, a good sailor, of temper softened by the kindliness of his domestic life. He had a wife and daughter Anna by the Thames at home. Rodmond, the first mate, was a bold north-country seaman, rough and coarse. The second mate was Arion, in whom the poet described himself. There was on board also, in charge of the cargo, Palemon, the son of the owner, who had been sent to sea by his rich father because he had fallen in love with Albert's daughter Anna, when sent on business of the firm to Captain Albert's house. Falconer represents young Palemon as confiding in Arion, and so places the main interest of his first canto in a love-story that gives individual life to the chief persons on board the ship, and so prepares the mind for a strong

human interest in the coming story of the wreck. While thus connecting his reader's sympathies with those who sail out of the haven of Candia, he represents already in the calm, of which the captain grows impatient, indication of the coming storm.

A sullen languor still the skies opprest

And held th' unwilling ship in strong arrest.

When a slight breeze at last rises at night, and the master at once takes advantage of it, there is still the same suggestion to the mind.

Deep midnight now involves the livid skies,
When eastern breezes, yet enervate, rise:
The waning moon behind a watery shroud
Pale glimmered o'er the long protracted cloud;
A mighty halo round her silver throne,
With parting meteors crossed, portentous shone :
This in the troubled sky full oft prevails,
Oft deemed a signal of tempestuous gales.

Arion is roused from dreams of storm and peril, blended with images of the love of Palemon and Anna, by the boatswain's whistle and the shout "All hands unmoor!" The ship leaves port, and in the morning has Mount Ida in sight, but the morning dawns "frowning stern and wrapt in sullen shade."

The dim horizon lowering vapours shroud

And blot the sun yet struggling through the cloud; Through the wide atmosphere condensed with haze, His glaring orb emits a sanguine blaze.

The canto ends with a description of the ship itself in the pride of its beauty. The scene of the Second Canto lies at sea between Cape Freschin in Candia and the island of Falconera. The ship speeds now before a favourable breeze. There is description of a waterspout, of a shoal of dolphins, and of the death of a dolphin speared by Rodmond. Then the breeze freshens; the ship is trimmed. The storm still gathers.

The blackening ocean curls, the winds arise,
And the dark scud in swift succession flies.
While the swoln canvas bends the masts on high,
Low in the wave the leeward cannon lie.
The master calls to give the ship relief,
"The topsails lower, and form a single reef!"
Each lofty yard with slackened cordage reels,
Rattle the creaking blocks and ringing wheels.
Down the tall masts the topsails sink amain,
Are manned and reefed, then hoisted up again.
More distant grew receding Candia's shore,
And southward of the west Cape Spado bore.

The swift calls of the master and movements of the crew in navigation of the ship are blended with the storm as a squall approaches, and breaks on the ship.

It comes, resistless, and with foaming sweep
Upturns the whitening surface of the deep:

The mainsail is rent, but the squall is weathered. There is now a troop of porpoises to leeward, and the ship, beyond shelter, is exposed to the fury of a southwesterly gale. Animation is given to the scene, and interest by the constant strain of energy on board the ship. This is expressed by the rapid succession of the seaman's duties, and at one time of peril by division of opinion between the chief officers upon a point of navigation. Arion narrowly escapes the fate of four seamen who are lost off the lee yardarm. The prompt energy and fearlessness of the seamen are praised by the poet, while they are shown in action as they could be shown only by a sailor who had known the dangers of the deep. The ship neared a lee shore by the rugged island of Falconera, bound with rocks and breakers, and was struck by a great

wave.

The boats beneath the thundering deluge broke;
Torn from their planks the cracking ringbolts drew,
And gripes and lashings all asunder flew;
Companion, binnacle, in floating wreck
With compasses and glasses strewed the deck;
The balanced mizen, rending to the head,
In fluttering fragments from its bolt-rope fled;
The sides convulsive shook on groaning beams,
And, rent with labour, yawned their pitchy seams.

Five feet of water in the well enforce work at the pumps. The guns have to be thrown overboard. Albert, the master-seaman, holds council with his two mates. On one side is the open sea in storm; rocky islands are near; safe harbour is in the gulf of Corinth, unattainable for want of sails. Rodmond advises endeavour to ride out the storm where they are, working strenuously at the pumps. A murmur is heard from the men at the pumps. The leaks gain upon them. Arion, as second mate, then counsels driving shoreward towards Greece, taking the chance of escape from the rocks of Falconera.

Still all our powers the increasing leaks defy,
We sink at sea, no shore or haven nigh.

Arion cheers also the drooping spirit of Palemon, while Albert announces to the brave crew the desperate counsel in which alone, it was agreed, there might be a chance for their lives.

One only refuge from despair we find—
At once to wear and scud before the wind:
Perhaps e'en then to ruin we may steer,
For rocky shores beneath our lee appear;
But that's remote, and instant death is here:
Yet there, by Heaven's assistance, we may gain
Some creek or inlet to the Grecian main;
Or sheltered by some rock, at anchor ride,
Till with abating rage the blast subside;
But if, determined by the will of Heaven,
Our helpless bark at last ashore is driven,
These counsels followed, from a watery grave
Our crew perhaps amid the surf may save-
And first let all our axes be secured
To cut the masts and rigging from aboard;
Then to the quarters bind each plank and oar
To float between the vessel and the shore.

Other such counsels follow, and last the sailors are told that the Greek coast is less cruel than the English, for among the Greeks there will be no wreckers to fear.

With conscious horror struck, the naval band Detested for a while their native land;

They cursed the sleeping vengeance of the laws That thus forgot her guardian sailor's cause.

The master uttered in a prayer his resignation to the will of God. Order was then given to bear away. The fore-staysail was hoisted, and split; the head yards were braced aback, and Rodmond cut the mizenmast away. There ends the Second Canto of "The Shipwreck." In the Third Canto, after prelude of the poet on his art and its theme, the ship, with the wreck of the mizenmast cleared away, veers before the wind.

To guide the wayward course amid the gloom
The watchful pilots different posts assume:
Albert and Rodmond on the poop appear
There to direct each guiding timoneer; 1
While at the bow the watch Arion keeps,
To shun what cruisers wander o'er the deeps.
Where'er he moves Palemon still attends
As if on him his only hope depends;

While Rodmond, fearful of some neighbouring shore,
Cries ever and anon, "Look out afore!"

Thus o'er the flood four hours she scudding flew,
When Falconera's rugged cliffs they view
Faintly along the larboard bow descried,
As o'er its mountain-tops the lightnings glide.
High o'er its summit, through the gloom of night,
The glimmering watch-tower cast a mournful light:
In dire amazement riveted they stand,
And hear the breakers lash the rugged strand-
But scarce perceived, when past the beam it flies,
Swift as the rapid eagle cleaves the skies:
That danger past reflects a feeble joy,

But soon returning fears their hopes destroy.

But here, the poet being near the shores of Greece, and writing for a generation that would be classical, asks Memory to say, "What regions now the scudding ship surround?" Memory brings accordingly into the poem a digression upon Athens, Socrates, Plato, Aristides, Solon, Corinth, its architecture, Sparta, Leonidas, invasion by Xerxes, Lycurgus, Epaminondas, present state of the Spartans, Arcadia, its past prosperity and present misery, Ithaca, Ulysses and Penelope, Argos, Agamemnon, Lemnos, Vulcan, Delos, Apollo and Diana, Troy, Sestos, Leander and Hero, Delphos, Temple of Apollo, Parnassus and the Muses-a digression which, no doubt, seemed to the author necessary for the conciliation of critics with conventional ideas, and what, out of a livelier sense of the real worth of ancient literature, we may now venture to call low classical propensities. But there is a little of true art in the digression. It comes at the critical point of the story, just before the shipwreck on the coast of Athens. Falconer packs it all

1 Timoneer, pilot. French "timonnier," from "timon," the helm of a ship, or pole of a coach.

into a little more than two hundred lines, and makes it end on Parnassus with soft images of peace and. young delight, from which he starts back with advantage of strong contrast into the fury of the storm.

Awake, O Memory, from the inglorious dream!
With brazen lungs resume the kindling theme;
Collect thy powers, arouse thy vital fire,
Ye spirits of the storm, my verse inspire!
Hoarse as the whirlwinds that enrage the main,
In torrent pour along the swelling strain.

The gale howls through the shrouds, rain pours, and then thick hail, and then the thunderstorm breaks over them.

Wide bursts in dazzling sheets the living flame, And dread concussion rends the ethereal frame; Sick Earth convulsive groans from shore to shore, And Nature shuddering feels the horrid roar.

Dawn comes. The ship still is flying shoreward, and the hills of Greece are on her lee. There is danger from the rocky island of St. George.

But haply she escapes the dreadful strand,
Though scarce her length in distance from the land;
Swift as the weapon quits the Scythian bow
She cleaves the burning billows with her prow,
And forward hurrying with impetuous haste,
Borne on the tempest's wings, the isle she past.

The sailors look back to it with longing as a refuge lost.

But now Athenian mountains they descry,
And o'er the surge Colonna frowns on high,
Where marble columns long by time defaced,
Moss-covered on the lofty cape are placed ;
These, reared by fair Devotion, to sustain
In elder times Tritonia's sacred fane.
The circling beach in murderous form appec-s,
Decisive goal of all their hopes and fears:
The seamen now in wild amazement see
The scene of ruin rise beneath the lee;
Swift from their minds elapsed all dangers past,
As, dumb with terror, they behold the last.
And now, while winged with ruin from on high
Through the rent cloud the ragged lightnings fly,
A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light,
Struck the pale helmsman with eternal night.

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