therewith a species of corrupt Latin. The introduction of this new dialect in England had considerable effect upon the Anglo-Saxon language. The despotism of the Norman knights, in erecting castles, and garrisoning them with Norman soldiers; the rapid introduction of Norman priests, and making the French language the vehicle for acquiring the Latin in schools; the influence and power of the barons, each a petty sovereign, with a petty court on his own estate; the use of the Norman French as the language of the royal and baronial courts, and that in which many of the laws and public documents were written, imperceptibly naturalized many foreign words and expressions; and thus was the Norman Saxon formed, and the foundation of the modern English laid.

For these events, it must be allowed, the education and partialities of Edward the Confessor had made some preparation. Educated in the court of his uncle, the Duke of Normandy, and bringing over with him, on his return to England, many Normans, of whose society he was fond, and whom he greatly favoured, the Norman French was previously introduced at his court.

The continuance of the Norman French, as the language of the court, and consequently of the great and fashionable, until the reign of Edward III., must, during that period, have imported a considerable stock of French terms; and the superiority of the French poets and writers, at this period, contributed to the same effect. The policy of Edward, and his antipathy to every thing French, induced him wisely to adopt the English language as the medium of fashionable conversation; and this gave a turn to the literature of the country, and a powerful stimulus to the exertion of native genius, and saved the language from too great an influx of foreign terms. This was bundantly seen in succeeding reigns. Gower began his career as a French poet; but, in the latter part of his life, commenced his English work, at the request of Richard II. But for this happy change, it could scarcely have happened, that we should have been benefited by the talents of Chaucer, who has been justly called the father of English poets, inasmuch as he succeeded in showing, even at that period, of what the language was capable; and roused the fire of genius, in many a dormant mind, in after-times.

It is very interesting, in reviewing past ages, to observe a superintending control over mind as well as matter, and the consequent provision of genius to enliven and enlighten even the darkest periods in the history of the world ;-a fine evidence of the existence and operation of a Deity of infinite and benignant perfections! This observation was forced on our

minds, in contemplating the talents and labours of Alfred and Chaucer. We cannot take leave of the latter, without quoting from the merited eulogy of Dryden, as well as his poems themselves. Dryden remarks, "As he was the father of English poetry, so I hold him, in the same degree of veneration, as the Grecians held Homer, or the Romans, Virgil. He has a perpetual fountain of good sense, learned in all sciences, and therefore speaks properly on all subjects, as he knew what to say, so he knew also when to leave off,—a continence which is practised by few writers, and scarcely by any of the Ancients, excepting Virgil and Homer. Chaucer followed nature every where, but was never so bold as to go beyond her; and there is as great a difference between being poëta et nimis poëta,' if we may believe Catullus, as there is between a modest behaviour and affectation. The verse of Chaucer, I confess, is not harmonious to us, but it is like the eloquence of one whom Tacitus commends, auribus istius temporis accommodata.' They who lived with him, and sometime after him, thought it musical, and it continues so, even in our judgment, if compared with the numbers of Lydgate and Gower, his contemporaries. There is the rude-sweetness of a Scotch tune in it, which is natural and pleasing, but not perfect.

"The Canterbury Tales," his greatest work, although doubtless suggested by the Decameron of Boccace, possess much originality, and display more judgment. It is to be regretted they were left unfinished. The plan of them may be learned from the prologue. A company of pilgrims of dissimilar habits and employments meet at an inn in Southwark on their pilgrimage to Canterbury; and, to beguile the toil of the journey, agree that each shall tell, in going and returning, two tales, and that the best story should be rewarded by a good supper at the common cost. The concluding lines of the prologue are here subjoined. Let it be remembered, the heroic measure in which it is written, was introduced to our language by him. The joy manifested by the company, on the determination, who should tell the first tale, is said, by one of his editors, to remind him of "a similar gratification to the secret wishes of the Grecian army, when the lot of fighting with Hector falls on Ajax, though there is not the least probability that Chaucer had ever read the Iliad, even in a translation."

"This is the point, to speke it plat and plain,
That eche of you, to shorten with youre way,
In this viage shal tellen Tales tway,

To Canterbury ward, I mene it so,
And homeward he shall tellen other two,

* Mr. Tyrwhitt.

VOL. I. PART II.

Of aventures that whilom hau befalle.
And which of you that bereth him best of alle,
That is to sayn, that telleth in this cas
Tales of best sentence, and most solas,
Shall have a souper at youre aller cost,
Here in this place, sitting by this post,
Whan that ye comen agen from Canterbury:
And for to maken you the more mery,
I wol my selven gladly with you ride,
Right at min owen cost, and be your gide.
And who that wol my jugement withsay,
Shall pay for alle we spenden by the way.
And if ye vouchesauf that it be so,
Telle me anon withouten wordes mo,
And I wol erly shapen me therfore.

This thing was granted, and our others swore
With ful glad herte, and praiden him also
That he wold vouchesauf for to don so,
And that he wolde been our govenour,
And of our Tales juge and reportour,
And sette a souper at a certain pris,
And we wol reuled ben at his devise
In highe and lowe: and thus by on assent
We ben accorded to his jugement;
And thereupon the win was sette anon:
We dronken, and to reste wenten eche on
Withouten any lenger tarying.

A morwe, whan the day began to spring,
Up rose our Hoste, and was our aller cok,
And gaderd us togeder in a flok,

And forth we riden a litel more than pas
Unto the watering of Seint Thomas,
And ther our Hoste began his hors arest,
And saide, Lordes, herkeneth if you lest;
Ye wete your forward, and I it record,
If even song and morwe song accord,
Let se now who shal telle the first Tale:
As ever mote I drinken win or ale,
Who so is rebel to my jugement,
Shall pay for alle that by the way is spent.
Now draweth cutte, or that ye forther twinne,
He which that hath the shortest shal beginne

Sire knight (quod he) my maister and my lord,
Now draweth cutte, for that is min accord.
Cometh nere (quod he) my Lady Prioresse,
And ye, Sire Clerk; let be your shamefastnesse,
Ne studieth nought; lay hand to every man.
Anon to drawen every wight began,

And shortly for tellen as it was,
Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,

The sothe is this, the cutte felle on the knight,
Of which ful blith and glad was every wight;
And tell he must his Tale as was reson,
By forword and by composition,

As ye

hav herd; what nedeth wordes mo?
And whan this good man saw it was so,
As he that wise was and obedient,

To keep his forword by his free assent,
He saide, Sithen I shall begin this game,
What welcome be the cutte a Goddes name.
Now let us ride, and herkeneth what I say;

And with that word we riden forth our way:
And he began, with a right mery chere,

His Tale anon, and saide as ye shal here."

From this period to the reign of Henry VI., the diffusion of knowledge, and the improvement of the national taste, were considerable, and the advancement of the language necessarily proportionate; as may be seen in the papers preserved by Rymer and others, written during this interval. The writings of Sir John Fortescue, the faithful friend of the unfortunate Henry, distinguished the succeeding reign, and indicated the approach of the true English style.

Happily, under succeeding monarchs, the language continued to advance; and, as the art of printing was invented, a powerful engine was set up, which could not fail to be employed for its cultivation. It was not possible that a reign so remarkable as that of Henry VIII. should not contribute to its growth. Whatever may be our opinions of the merits and demerits of that extraordinary prince; however we may be shocked at his cruelties, and exasperated at his tyranny; scarcely could any other man have effected such results with such ease and rapidity. They were perilous and eventful times; but it was the commencement of the downfal of a deep-rooted superstition, and the disturbance of its roots was widely felt. Henry, amid the contrarieties of his character, valued himself on his literary reputation, and is certainly much to be praised for the asylum and encouragement he afforded to learned men at the effects on our language we rapidly glanced in an introductory paper*. This particular notice of the reign of Henry VIII. is taken, because its effects on the national character were powerful and permanent, although not immediate. The love of liberty was excited, the right and power of thinking were discovered; and the language, ever the index of the national mind and character, shared the benefits, as succeeding reigns display.

Passing to the reign of Elizabeth, it has been well remarked, *See Part I. p. 27, of this Journal.

that "the language had acquired such copiousness, dignity, force, and melody, as perhaps, in the eye of very distant posterity, moderns may be supposed never to have exceeded; what is gained in eloquence being generally lost in power." It would be needless to enumerate the literary men who blessed and adorned this period of our history; they are still read, and will be valued, as long as the English language possesses its characteristic strength and energy. But it would be unpardonable to pass over, for it is impossible to forget, the matchless effusions of that immortal genius, of whom any nation, in any age, would have been proud. Shakspeare was the great master of the human mind, possessing, in perfection, all its wondrous powers; an exception to the rule, if that rule be general, that a brilliant imagination, and a correct judgment, are not found in the same individual. He thoroughly understood the operation of the varied passions which agitate and transport the soul; and, therefore, in all the vast variety of character, could trace every action to its impelling motive. Equally familiar with tragic and comic feeling, his descriptions could not be otherwise than correct, nor his style otherwise than natural, adorned moreover with all the enchantments of fancy, and breathing the inspiration of genius.

If the former reign yielded a triumphant proof of the capa. bilities of the language, of all the requirements of poetry, the succeeding reign still more illustriously demonstrated its adaptation to the sublimer prose; witness the common translation of the Holy Bible, the finest specimen of genuine English prose extant. And here it may be interesting to mark the progress of the language, by comparing a passage of the translation, just referred to, with that of Wickliffe, in 1380.

--

Part of Paul's Defence before King Agrippa:"Whereupon, as I went to Damascus, with authority and commission from the chief priests, at mid-day, O King, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me, and them which journeyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying, in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.' And I said, 'Who art thou, Lord? And he said, 'I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet; for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee; delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me.'

Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the