"murky thunderlight," as Lord David Cecil writes, "makes them stirring out of all proportion to their strictly literary merits."
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Martin Farquhar Tupper"the Shakespeare of the Church" according to some Evangelical connoisseurswas the author of the vastly popular Proverbial Philosophy , a collection of moral musings in unrhymed, occasionally rhythmic prose arranged in lines of irregular length. Tupper reflects on, explains, and enjoins his readers to accept humbly God's works, to improve what they have been given, and above all to shun that pride which leads one to imagine oneself autonomous. By the end of the century this work had become the butt of many an easy satire, yet it passed through sixty editions, and by 1881 a million copies had been sold in America alone. Like most of the poetry of the Evangelical movement, it was directed to a largely uncritical public little interested in belles lettres. They responded to the genuine moral and religious feeling in Tupper's poetry rather than to the aesthetics of the verbal artifact that conveyed it. Indeed, the doctrine of the movement clearly discouraged imagination, originality, or brilliance, based as these are on an assertion of individuality, which is the root of pride and hence of evil: "Fruitlessly thou strainest for humility, by darkly diving into self: / Rather look away from innate evil, and gaze upon extraneous good."
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Somewhat grander in ambition if not in execution was Robert Pollock's Course of Time , a lengthy fulmination in ten books of stock eighteenth-century diction in blank verse upon eternal punishment for inveterate pride and hardened refusal to repent. As recognition of sinfulness was, for the Evangelicals, the precondition of acknowledging salvation in Christ, the drama of this poetry was, for its readers, in the subject rather than the treatment of it. The work became popular as soon as it was published, particularly in Pollock's native Scotland. Similar in tone, Robert Montgomery's Satan, or Intellect without God warns of the certain and terrible consequences of intellectual and imaginative independence. For five thousand lines, it was later observed, Satan delivers an unbroken monologue better suited to an Evangelical pastor than to the Archfiend. In Book One he comments sanely on early civilizations and censoriously on the Inquisition in Spain, the Revolution in France, and slavery in the United States; in Book Two he abominates vices and crimes; in Book Three he looks closely at the underside of English society in the age of the industrial revolution. Only in passing does he take in the Creation, the Fall, and the plan of redemption.
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