dering it, by its conjunction with the Saxon terms, probably the most copious in the world, but it did not divert the spirit of the literature from its old sublime paths.

So much then as a general view of the component parts of our subject; but the purpose of a lecture of this kind would be but imperfectly attempted should I close without saying something upon the study of English literature, especially as I shall presume that there are those before me who feel in the literature of their language a deep interest, and to whom upon that subject. no remarks, however weak and unsatisfactory, if well intended, will come utterly amiss.

With regard to the study of English literature, at the start let me warn you that you must not expect, if you would make your study profitable and thorough, to saunter through it as you stroll through a garden, picking only the more beautiful flowers, neglecting the unattractive and carefully avoiding all those whose thorns must sting you before you can become possessed of their sweets. No, the study should rather be compared to a jewel mine in which the rewards of your labor will be rich and splendid, indeed, but to obtain them you must delve. You must labor through much that is dry and hard, but you will be amply repaid; it may be that when you have found a costly jewel, you will at first not recognize it as such, it will require closer contemplation, perhaps a little rubbing off of the circumjacent dust, to reveal its true splendor.

In order to study English literature properly, we should not be content with the mere perusal of a book; we should endeavor to learn the circumstances under which it was written, examine the political events, and see how far contemporaneous civil and political history affected the literature of the day and how far they were affected by it in turn. And, looking at literature in this way, shall frequently see an entirely different construction. placed upon a book and an entirely different meaning

given to its import, than when considered merely in and by itself. For instance, when we look at the popular German romance, Reynard the Fox, by itself, we see nothing but, according to whose vision we read, a pleasing, rather childish story, or at most, a fable, containing questionable moral instruction, but when we remember that Reynard the Fox was the form used by German satirists from early ages for the purposes of attacking the abuses of the day, and especially those of the clergy (whose vices are always most carefully attended to), then you at once perceive what a different position Reynard occupies in our eyes.

In selecting authors, of course take those upon whom the world has set the stamp of its approval. Read them, but not them only; read, as time and opportunity are given you, authors to whose merits and works has been denied fame, and who, although unheard of by the world at large, have much in them to improve and to elevate, and there are such; and read those, too, who have had the misfortune to have been outshone by some greater light shining in the same era, and who have, consequently, been neglected by the succeeding generations; the names comprised in this category also are indeed numerous. The stars are always in the heavens, they always shed a light, but while the luminary of day bathes the world in a flood of radiance we see them not; it is only when the sun sets that we can enjoy the pure, tranquil beam of the star.

Here, then, I must pause. It would be, indeed, a delight to me to travel with you through such a fertile, such a luxuriant country as the domain of English literature, but it is impossible; so I close with an earnest exhortation to all of you to study the literature of your language, its historians, its novelists, its philosophers and its poets. And especially to my young friends who have had such exceptional advantages in beginning the study of literature would I say, by no means let your

study end with your graduation. Regard yourselves as but equipped with means for further progress. Perhaps you exclaim we have not time, we have, or shall have, other more important things to do. With regard to time take what you have, waste no time, and, however little you have at your disposal, improve it. And with regard to the other part of your objection, remember that in addition to any other duties incumbent upon you there is the duty of self-development. Development in all directions. So that while all should go on in the endeavor to develop themselves in their chosen work in life and socially, we should remember that there is a higher duty than all of these, the development of man as God's creature, the constant and never-ceasing elevation of his mind, and remember that the literature of our language is a powerful aid put into our hands to enable us to fulfil this great duty. Man must progress, man individually as well as man socially, if he would not retrograde. From time to time there have been those who, in advance of the eras in which they lived, have left their words to serve us upon our journey over the same ground over which they have traveled. Let us then lay to heart their words, imbibe their noble ideas, that they may refresh and aid and strengthen us in our upward march, a march which will end only with our lives.

But such exhortation seems hardly necessary in this place-hallowed by the traditions of its great founder who established St. Mary's Hall, that there might be implanted in the minds and hearts of his dear young charges the never-dying germ of true Christian culture, and from whence, cared for by him and by his Apostolic successors, so many have gone forth fitted by the instruction, both religious and secular, here received, to carry joy and blessing to those about them and to grow steadily in mind and soul,-while every association of the place, its past, its present, its memories, its sweet daily chapel service, its daily work, and the tone which pervades it

throughout impress upon its pupils the excellence of that humility, that modesty, which is the accompaniment of all real intellectual and spiritual elevation, and which is summed up in the words of the Blessed Virgin, who, we know, pondered the deep things of God in her heart, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord!"

PHILIP MASSINGER AND HIS PLAYS.1

The history of literature abounds with instances of authors, meritorious in themselves, neglected on account of the excellence of a close successor; but perhaps no better example is afforded than is given by the Elizabethan dramatists.

In the Elizabethan era, there existed many bright geniuses who labored in the walks of the drama, who might well, did they stand alone, form the boast of the literature of any nation, but who, owing to the immense superiority of their great coeval, are almost, if not entirely, forgotten by the mass of readers, and are enjoyed but by a few critical or scholarly persons.

These dramatists are indeed stars shining in obscurity; and amongst them are few whose light is more brilliant, the overpowering sun being removed, than that of Philip Massinger.

Critics may differ with regard to the exact position which Massinger occupies in a graded scale of dramatic authors, each may have his favorite, whom he struggles to place in the foremost rank,-but, with the exception of Hazlitt, all agree in assigning him a high place, one of the chief seats at the feast. Charles Lamb has treated him, perhaps, with less consideration than most critics; Gifford has placed him above Ben Jonson; and Hallam declares that, as a tragic writer, he is second only to Shakespeare. This is high praise, especially from such a critic as Hallam, and doubts of its justice may arise in our minds, even when it is backed by so great a name. For our own part, when we recollect the great scene in "Faustus," where the doctor, his life's thread almost spun out, abandoned by the fiend who has served, only to

1

Written about 1872; first published in 1881.