e,
to the utmost pitch of singularity and paradox. The change in the
belles-lettres was as complete, and to many persons as startling, as the
change in politics, with which it went hand in hand. There was a mighty
ferment in the heads of statesmen and poets, kings and people. According
to the prevailing notions, all was to be natural and new. Nothing that
was established was to be tolerated. All the common-place figures of
poetry, tropes, allegories, personifications, with the whole heathen
mythology, were instantly discarded; a classical allusion was considered
as a piece of antiquated foppery; capital letters were no more allowed
in print, than letters-patent of nobility were permitted in real life;
kings and queens were dethroned from their rank and station in
legitimate tragedy or epic poetry, as they were decapitated elsewhere;
rhyme was looked upon as a relic of the feudal system, and regular metre
was abolished along with regular government. Authority and fashion,
elegance or arrangement, were hooted out of countenance, as pedantry and
prejudice. Every one did that which was good in his own eyes. The object
was to reduce all things to an absolute level; and a singularly affected
and outrageous simplicity prevailed in dress and manners, in style and
sentiment. A striking effect produced where it was least expected,
something new and original, no matter whether good, bad, or indifferent,
whether mean or lofty, extravagant or childish, was all that was aimed
at, or considered as compatible with sound philosophy and an age of
reason. The licentiousness grew extreme: Coryate's Crudities were
nothing to it. The world was to be turned topsy-turvy; and poetry, by
the good will of our Adam-wits, was to share its fate and begin _de
novo_. It was a time of promise, a renewal of the world and of letters;
and the Deucalions, who were to perform this feat of regeneration, were
the present poet-laureat and the two authors of the Lyrical Ballads. The
Germans, who made heroes of robbers, and honest women of cast-off
mistresses, had already exhausted the extravagant and marvellous in
sentiment and situation: our native writers adopted a wonderful
simplicity of style and matter. The paradox they set out with was, that
all things are by nature equally fit subjects for poetry; or that if
there is any preference to be given, those that are the meanest and most
unpromising are the best, as they leave the greatest scope for