the lakes was really the first, if not to feel, at any rate to attempt to render in verse worthy of the theme, and without satirical design, the grandeur of London and the intensity of its life. Strange as this fact appears at first sight, it is less surprising when we reflect that the requisite striking impression could only be felt by a man fresh from the world outside of London, capable of new and vivid sensations, and sufficiently open in mind and independent of clas sical authorities to venture on a frank description of his novel impressions. This was the new departure taken by Wordsworth. The man who is usually regarded as imbued with rustic prejudices was able to understand the strange and powerful attraction of the capital, and deemed it worthy of poetic treatment." 1 This is undoubtedly true, and it reveals the individuality of Wordsworth's attitude toward the city. However, the uniqueness and real merit of his poetic treatment of the great city does not lie in his descriptions of its everyday appearance and life-its streets and lanes, its private courts and quiet suburbs, its museums, theaters, and homes of justice, its halls of parliament, with their great debates-nor of the intensity of its life, nor of its solitudes. It lies rather in his mystical poetic intuition, by which he discovers in its brick and mortar, its dirty streets and lanes, its deafening din, its busy life, and its motley crowds "impregnations like the Wilds" in which his early feelings had been nursed, as in the feelings suggested by "that huge fermenting mass of humankind" that served "as a solemn background, or relief, to single forms and objects" in the vision of the dignity, grandeur, and unity of Man, and in the sublime faith (inspired by the checkered human throng) in what he may become under divine guidance. Contrast the exalted views of the essential nature of Man which the city brings to him, confirming and enriching a lofty ideal formed under the influence of a less corrupting environment, with the observations of the writers referred to by Legouis. Note 1 Legouis, The Early Life of William Wordsworth, 169–170. Wordsworth's optimism as he beholds Man under the unwholesome, depressing, and diverse conditions of crowded city life, and proclaims his true greatness and grandeur, apprehending his solidarity and unity under moral law; note his profound insight into human nature, and his sublime confidence in its dignity and destiny, and contrast them with the quasi-cynicism and pessimism involved in the irony and satire of previous poets, and observe how immeasurably superior the inspiration which the city brought to Wordsworth! In one case we have superficial observation, ironical description, and more or less of skeptical interpretation; in the other we have poetic insight, profound faith, and hopeful outlook. They deal with Men; he deals with Man. They deal with the individual; he deals with the universal. They deal with the incidental; he deals with the essential. Their imagination is burdened with the weight of sense; his mounts on the wings of spirit. They see largely outward aspects; he sees into the life of things and men. In short, we have in Wordsworth the vision and prophecy of the seer-the truest and sublimest poet, the idealist and optimist. And if we are to determine his historical position or significance with reference to the treatment of the city in literature, we shall find it in these lofty visions and conceptions of things and men which the city brought to him, and which he has embodied in noble and inspiring verse. We are apt to miss the real significance of Wordsworth's second visit to London unless we carefully note his personal attitude toward Man during this brief sojourn. The eighth book of "The Prelude" is entitled "Retrospect"; but it also bears the subtitle, "Love of Nature leading to Love of Man." Many writers on Wordsworth are so occupied with his views of Nature that they apparently fail to recognize the fact that Wordsworth, during the best years of his career as a poet, was primarily interested in Man. Man was the supreme object of his thought and affections — the chief source and end of his poetical inspiration. Nature is recognized as a teacher leading to a proper attitude toward Man. Of course, in his early years, and here also, in London, Nature is still sovereign in his heart; but all along, "by slow gradations,' she has been leading his thoughts to human-kind, and we shall fail of the real import of this London visit unless we see in it how, under her inspiration and guidance, Man becomes more and more an object of affectionate regard, a source of poetic contemplation and feeling, resulting in enlarged and exalted views of his essential dignity and greatness, his noble destiny, and the oneness of the race under moral law. Addressing Coleridge on this subject, the Poet says: Thus from a very early age, O Friend! My thoughts by slow gradations had been drawn The world of human-kind outweighed not hers But the "scale of love" was filling somewhat rapidly here in the city, and though still light compared with the scale of love for Nature, it was daily growing heavier, and we shall see in the next chapter that "the world of human-kind" was destined soon to outweigh the world of Nature in the Poet's affections. At present, Man is only an occasional delight, "an accidental grace," whereas Nature is "a passion," indeed "a rapture often," and an "immediate love ever at hand." But Man's hour is not far distant. Only one more summer must be told before he too shall become not only a passion but a rapture, and ever afterwards the supreme object of Wordsworth's love and art.2 1 The Prelude, VIII, 676-686. 2 Ibid., 346–356. CHAPTER IV THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS Wordsworth was more or less prepared, by his previous life and training, to sympathize with the aims and underlying principles of the great social and political conflict raging across the channel. In his boyhood and youth his social environment was such that he had rarely come in contact with men who were accustomed to receive attention because of their wealth or blood. He lived where these artificial social relations did not abound. Furthermore, in his college career he shared in the democratic life which usually prevails in academic circles - a democracy which recognizes the members of such circles as "brothers all in honour, as in one community, scholars and gentlemen," where distinction was open to all, and talents, worth, and successful industry counted for more than wealth and titles. Again, he had been prepared for this hour by the fact that he had learned from the beginning subservience presences of God's mysterious power," which were made manifest in the sovereignty of Nature; also by "fellowship with venerable books" that sanctioned the consciousness of the dignity and lofty powers of the soul and its freedom. Hence, he says, So that, when he visited France in the summer of 1791, he soon became deeply interested in the course of events; and it was not 1 The Prelude, IX, 238-243. long before he was identified in sympathy with what he deemed to be the sacred cause of the people. As he came into closer contact with the momentous situation he was profoundly impressed with its significance. In his enthusiasm he saw it loom large with promise, not only for France, but for the whole world, and he followed its varying fortunes with anxious interest. It was soon evident that under the influence of political events he was rapidly reaching a crisis in his career, for they were intimately related to his mental and spiritual life. It was primarily through the French Revolution that he became specially interested in Man. For him, as we have seen, the Revolution was not merely a local movement; it had meaning also for humanity at large. It was a movement in the interest of a greater liberty for the race, which would prove a tremendous advantage to human progress. It carried with it larger rights for the masses, and less authority for the classes. The essential rights of Man were to be gained and maintained. Wordsworth was borne along by his enthusiasm and hopes for the cause to such an extent that soon he was steeped in republicanism, despite his natural conservatism and the form of government under which he was born and reared. However, his republicanism was not the blind enthusiasm of a fanatic. It was not a faith without at least some rational foundation. The French Revolution had its intellectual side. Indeed, one of the things that prepared the way for this great crisis was French philosophy of the eighteenth century. Many of the most ardent revolutionists were affected by the philosophy of Rousseau and the Encyclopædists. The Revolution, of course, involved certain fundamental conceptions and principles concerning Man his nature, dignity, and rights, both natural and political and the nature, functions, forms, and ends of political government. These were questions which appealed to reason for solution, and many of the principles laid down for practical adoption were proclaimed in the name of this exalted faculty. Tradition in politics and religion was thrown aside, and both were brought before the bar of man's rational nature. Indeed, with many of the |