Appreciations, with an Essay on Style

In Short

These essays constitute a foundational work of Victorian aesthetic criticism, examining how writers from Wordsworth and Coleridge to Shakespeare and Dante Gabriel Rossetti achieved their unique voices. By dissecting the relationship between a writer’s personality and their chosen form, the author argues for a disciplined, scholarly approach to style. The collection has endured because it treats literature not as a static historical record, but as a living, breathing testament to the human spirit’s struggle to impose order and beauty upon a chaotic, complex world.

The Story

The collection begins with a rigorous manifesto on "Style," positing that the true literary artist treats language as a precise, architectural medium. The author asserts that a writer must be a "lover of words for their own sake," avoiding the lazy personification and surplusage that degrade communication. By arguing that "the style is the man," the author sets the stage for a series of deep-dive appraisals of major figures.

The narrative arc moves from the pastoral, solemn world of Wordsworth—where passion is found in the humble, rural life—to the troubled, metaphysical intensity of Coleridge. The author frames Coleridge’s career as a "disinterested struggle against the relative spirit," noting how his unique poetic gift was often stunted by an excess of philosophical seriousness and a "diseased" temperament. Through these portraits, the author illustrates how a writer’s physical and mental constitution inevitably dictates the contours of their work.

Moving into the realm of the essayist, the author explores Charles Lamb and Sir Thomas Browne. Lamb is celebrated as a follower of Montaigne, a master of the "inward light" who captures the "gayest, happiest attitude of things" through a casual, intimate style. In contrast, Sir Thomas Browne is depicted as a "curiosity-hunter" whose work is a lifelong meditation on death, decay, and the magnetic mysteries of the natural world. Here, the author highlights the paradox of a scientific mind deeply rooted in outdated, superstitious wonder.

The focus then shifts to Shakespeare, where the author examines the "foppery" of language in Love’s Labours Lost and the profound moral casuistry of Measure for Measure. The author argues that in Shakespeare’s hands, linguistic artifice is not merely an ornament but a way to express a nature "inwardly bent upon a form of delicate perfection." This transitions into a historical survey of the English kings, focusing on the tragic, broken beauty of Richard II, whose life ends in a quiet, passive resignation that mirrors the poet’s own ability to set distress to music.

The final chapters reach into the nineteenth century with Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Octave Feuillet, examining the tension between esoteric, romantic art and the "vulgar mediocrity" of modern society. The book concludes with a postscript on the nature of "classicism," arguing that the true classic is a work of order in beauty that transcends changing beliefs. The journey ends with a call to arms for the modern writer: to bring order to the "contorted, proportionless accumulation" of modern knowledge by writing with the clarity and rigor of the ancient scholars.

How It Unfolds

The architecture of language The author establishes the necessity of a "mind in style," arguing that true literary art requires an architectural foresight where the end is held in view from the very beginning. By treating language as a physical material, the writer must avoid the "otiose" and the "facile" to reach a unique, absolute expression.

The pastoral and the psychological The analysis turns to the romantics, contrasting Wordsworth’s "passionate" and "solemn" engagement with rural nature against Coleridge’s "broken" and "sickly" pursuit of absolute truth. This section traces how different temperaments—one healthy and self-possessed, the other valetudinarian—determine the quantity and quality of a poet’s output.

The cabinet of curiosities The focus shifts to the essayists and antiquarians, exploring the "desultoriness" of Lamb and the "morbid", scientific curiosities of Browne. The author illustrates how these writers turned their own idiosyncrasies and personal museums of thought into an art form that transcends mere observation.

The dramatic and the ethical The author examines Shakespeare’s mastery, looking at how the "delightful foppery" of language hides deeper moral insights. The discussion progresses to the "poetical justice" of Measure for Measure, where the author concludes that true justice is essentially "a finer knowledge through love."

The modern challenge In the final essays, the author evaluates the role of the contemporary writer in an eclectic, science-heavy age. The conclusion posits that while schools of literature come and go, the writer’s true duty is to stand against the "stupidity which is dead to the substance" and the "vulgarity which is dead to form."

The People

The figures discussed are not merely subjects but archetypes of the creative struggle. Wordsworth emerges as the "aristocrat of passionate souls," a man who successfully finds the latent affinities between nature and the human mind. Coleridge, conversely, stands as the tragic intellectual, his potential limited by a "diseased" temperament and an inability to handle abstract theories with the lightness of a true humanist.

Lamb and Browne serve as the book’s intellectual guides to the subjective. Lamb is the "wayfarer," valuing intimacy and the "inward light" above all else, while Browne is the "skeptical inquirer" who haunts his own home like a museum, finding beauty in anatomical preparations and the "meditation upon death." They demonstrate that personality is the essential ingredient of a lasting style.

Shakespeare is presented as the supreme artist who can balance the "golden cadence" of language with a deep, experiential understanding of human frailty. His Richard II is a portrait of "wayward, frenzied" beauty, a man whose fall from grace provides a mirror for the author’s own thoughts on the "anointing" of poetic power. Rossetti is the final practitioner of the "esoteric," a workman of intense, narrow focus who creates a "new ideal" in a world of declining moral tone. Together, these figures illustrate the author’s belief that an artist is ultimately judged by their power to combine diverse graces into a singular, sincere vision.

In Its Own Voice

"The otiose, the facile, surplusage: why are these abhorrent to the true literary artist, except because, in literary as in all other art, structure is all-important, felt, or painfully missed, everywhere?"

The author defines the necessity of rigorous construction in the opening essay on style.

"A museum is seldom a cheerful place--oftenest induces the feeling that nothing could ever have been young; and to Browne the whole world is a museum; all the grace and beauty it has being of a somewhat mortified kind."

The author describes the antiquarian Sir Thomas Browne’s melancholy relationship with the physical world.

"But in the work of literary production, it is easy to be overmuch occupied concerning them. For, in truth, the legitimate contention is, not of one age or school of literary art against another, but of all successive schools alike, against the stupidity which is dead to the substance, and the vulgarity which is dead to form."

The author concludes the collection by summarizing the ultimate goal of the literary critic and artist.

What It's Really About

This collection is an inquiry into the nature of aesthetic integrity. It asks how a writer can achieve a "unique, just expression" that is both a product of their specific age and a timeless contribution to human understanding. The underlying question is whether literature can act as an antidote to the "contorted" and "proportionless" state of modern experience. The author argues that true art requires a marriage of deep, scholarly consciousness and the "intimate" personality of the writer. Ultimately, the work is about the moral imperative of form: that beauty is not a luxury, but a necessary order that saves us from the vulgarity of unrefined thought and the degradation of our language.

Why Read It Today

Reading these essays feels like sitting in a quiet, wood-paneled library with a mentor who possesses an exceptionally refined, if somewhat formal, sensibility. You will love this book if you are interested in the "how" of writing—the mechanics of the sentence, the weight of a metaphor, and the way a writer’s life informs their prose. It is a rewarding experience for those who enjoy slow, deliberate reading; the author’s sentences are long, rhythmic, and demanding, requiring a patient ear for the subtleties of Victorian cadence.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the book’s density. The author’s focus on long-dead historical figures and his reliance on complex, scholarly allusions can feel distant or even exclusionary at times. His period attitudes—such as the romanticization of "pastoral" lives or his specific views on theological literature—are firmly rooted in the late nineteenth century and may seem quaint or dated. Yet, the persistent call for clarity and the rejection of "lazy" language resonate with a striking freshness today. What stays with you is not just the literary analysis, but the author’s profound, unshakable conviction that the pursuit of a beautiful, precise style is one of the most vital, and perhaps one of the most difficult, tasks a human being can undertake.