GENUINE LETTERS FROM A GENTLEMAN TO A YOUNG LADY HIS PUPIL. CALCULATED To form the TASTE, regulate the JUDGMENT, and improve the MORALS. WRITTEN SOME YEARS SINCE. Now first revised and published with NOTES and ILLUSTRATIONS, By THOMAS HULL, Of the THEATRE ROYAL, in COVENT-GARDEN.
How would'st thou sport with us in learned Play,
And sage Advice in Wit's light Strain convey!
See Let. 48. P. 211.
VOL. II.
LONDON: Printed for J. BELL, near
Exeter Exchange, Strand,
and C. ETHERINGTON, at
York.
MDCCLXXII.
GENUINE LETTERS.
LETTER LXIV. Mr. PRESTON to Miss NANCY BLISSET.
Oxon.
March
24, 1742-3.
My Dear,
IN this Letter I shall give you some Remarks on only one Book of the
Odyssey,
namely, the Seventh.
Verse 21 and 22, contain a very just Observation on the Temper of a Mob, and that too perhaps, in all Countries and all Ages.
Is the Epithet
rude,
which is applied to the
Phoeacians,
Verse 55, entirely reconcileable to the Character given of them at Verse 12, in the last Book?
From Verse 110 to 175, is a most charming Description of the Palace and Garden of
Alcinous.
Does it not appear to you that
Ovid
has borrowed the Description of the
Palace of the Sun,
in the second Book of his
Metamorphoses,
from this Place?
Verse 224. Here is a Passage very expressive of that Hospitality you have remarked and admired so much.
From Verse 265 to 275, we have a great Resemblance to the Holy Scriptures. One of the Apostles commands us
to relieve Strangers, in-as-much as such have entertained Angels.
We see it was so with
Lot, Abraham, Jacob,
&c. and further it is said, that
God
conversed with
Moses,
Face to Face, as a Man does with his Friend.
At Verse 295, are the two Lines with which the Critics have found great Fault in the Translation, as being too mean. The Expression, "craving Bowels," is rather beneath Mr.
Pope
's usual Style.
Ver.
370.
All Night I slept
oblivious
of my Care.
Methinks
forgetful
of my Care, would, from its Simplicity, have suited the Subject better.
I have done with this Book, so shall release you from Criticisms at present, and change to another Subject, in which I would recommend a little of that Hospitality we so admire in the Antients. I desire, nay insist, that you will prepare a little
genial Board
for your Birth-Day, as I shall do. Invite your Mama, your Aunt, and any other Friend you like; and I beg you will not suffer any thing to be abridged, on this Occasion, to save a few Shillings. I know your Turn for Oeconomy, but remit the Strictness of it for once. Besides the Pleasure it brings, it may answer some useful Ends. It will give you an Opportunity to shew your own Address, as Mistress of the Feast, display your Respect to your Parents in an amiable Light, and, at the same Time, gratify your affectionate Sensations. I am a Friend to little Indulgencies of this Kind, when confined within proper Restrictions, and not too often repeated. Thus directed, they come within the Compass of Virtue, otherwise they extend to Profusion.
Pray do as I desire; so wishing you many happy Birth-Days,
I am,
my dear Angel,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXV.
Oxon.
March
25, 1743.
My Dearest,
I Hope this will be delivered into your Hands to-morrow, being your Birth-Day, when you are with your Friends, or preparing to be with them. I wish you many such Days, and that they may be happy. Give my humble Service to all that are with you when this comes to Hand, or that are to be with you in the Evening.
I went to the Inn myself yesternight, and gave Mrs.
Bew
very peremptory Directions about your Box, so I hope you will receive it safe.
You are now entering into a new Year of your Life. The best Advice I can give you, is to be thankful to God for the past, and shew your Gratitude by using the coming Year well. As you are going to be chearful with your Friends, I will not detain you long.
You have read of
Pacolet
's wooden Horse, who, on turning a Pin, flew through the Air with his Rider, and went a great Journey in a few Moments. I could wish for such an Horse to-morrow Night, and after spending four or five Hours with you, to mount and come back here; but as such a Wish is vain, I must even be content to want that Pleasure, and within two or three Weeks make use of a wooden Coach, instead of a wooden Horse, and travel over Land, instead of flying through the Air.
I hope you will spare so much Time to-morrow Evening as to write me, if it is no more than two or three Lines; and in the next Letter after that, I must have the History of this Evening, your Birth-Day, and Sunday. Salute your your Mama, Aunt, and Mrs. M—, with a Kiss for me. Again I wish you a haypy Birth-Day, and many more; and am, my dear Ange,
your most sincere Friend, and Servant, JOHN PRESTON.
P. S.
Remember what I told you in my last. I insist upon it that your Birth-Day is not kept in a poor niggardly Way. Remember, I insist upon it. Adieu, ma chere Petite!
LETTER LXVI.
This and the two preceding Letters being written on Days subsequent to each other, are an undoubted Proof that our Tutor's Attention was as much awake to his Pupil's Pleasure and Amusement, as to her Instruction. How admirably does he unite the Friend with the Preceptor!
Oxon.
March
26, 1743.
My Dear,
HAving an Opportunity of sending this by a private Hand, I could not omit to wish you all Health and Happiness
on
your Birth-Day. May you know your Duty to
God,
your Neighbour, and to yourself, and practise what you know! May you enjoy a moderate Share of the good Things of this Life, have Health of Body and Content of Mind, and then you need no more!
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXVII.
Oxon.
March
30, 1743.
My Dear,
JUST now I received yours of the 29th, and was about to be much surprized that you was so long in answering all the Letters I wrote you last Week. I was suddenly taken ill on your Birth-Day, and though I had engaged myself to pass the Evening at a Gentleman's Chambers in
Baliol College,
yet I could not sup, but after drinking your Health, and two or three sparing Glasses more, I was forced to quit the Company and return home. I kept my Bed two Days, and have not been out since. Though somewhat better now, I still continue ill. Pray write me soon again, and let me know how your Mama does. I shall be sure to acquaint you how I am. I dare not venture to write farther; it is with Pain I have written this.
I have made Remarks on the eighth
Odyssey,
but must defer them till my next.
My Spirits are low. Your Letters cheer, as well as delight me.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours most affectionately, J. P.
LETTER LXVIII.
Oxon.
April
3, 1743.
My Dear,
I AM not yet quite recovered, and have been out but once, to wit, this Day
Probably Easter Sunday.
, to Chapel, it being a high Festival, and the Sacrament administered.
I am mightily pleased with your Observations on
Rochefaucault.
I shall make some few Remarks here on the 8th and 9th
Odyssey,
if I can get through them; but I am doubtful of my Ability, as I yet cannot endure much Application.
From the Beginning of the 8th Book, we find the great Duties that were most highly esteemed in antient Times, were Prayer, Praises, Hospitality, and Sacrifices, attended with Music.
Though the Resentment of
Ulysses
at Verse 183, is very just, yet surely he carries it too far.
Mr.
Pope
mentions the Opening of the 9th Book to have given great Joy to the Critics, who wished to find Fault with so great an Author. I wonder what provoked them.
Ulysses
only animadverts on the happy State of the
Phaeacians,
which is extremely just, and by no Means inconsistent with Virtue. To me therefore all Apologies to soften the Matter are entirely useless.
Verse 46. Quaere, what is meant by the Expression,
a like Reward?
Ver.
189.
We sate indulging in the genial Rite.
I am at a Loss to know why the Translator makes use of this Expression here, the
genial Rite.
The Speech of
Ulysses
to
Polypheme,
beginning at Verse 307, is excellent. The last eight Lines are beautifully translated, and the Matter of them highly pious and instructive.
Verse 495. I think all this
fort outrée,
notwithstanding all that Mr.
Pope
has said to make it pass; as well as the whole Story of
, or
Noman.
By all Means let me know how your Mama and Aunt do. Write soon, no Matter on what Subject. I would hear any thing from you, though ever so trifling. As drowning Men catch at Straws for Relief, so dispirited Folks catch at Trifles for Comfort; not that your Letters can ever be such to me.
I am,
dear Nancy,
yours sincerely, J. P.
LETTER LXIX.
Oxon.
April
6, 1743.
My Dear,
I JUST now received yours of the 5th. I am somewhat better, but not entirely recovered.
If you chuse
Milton
or
Virgil
for the Subject of our ensuing Correspondence, I shall be pleased; but if you like better to write such Thoughts as occur to you on any Author you happen to be reading at the Time of writing, I shall be very well satisfied. It is true there is a noble Fund in
Milton
and
Virgil,
but I would not keep you always confined to one Kind of Study. The Book of
Job,
the
Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes,
the
Wisdom of Solomon,
and of
the Son of Sirach,
supply large and rich Funds for Observations; but take your own way, and please yourself.
I should not have written you till I had read four or five more Books of the
Odyssey,
unless you had been impatient; and as the Post is just going out, I shall not add more here, nor even transcribe my Remarks on two Books of the
Odyssey,
that are ready; so you will probably get five together.
I may see you about this Day fortnight, or perhaps sooner. In the mean Time, keep yourself employed. Write about something, no Matter what. The Mind requires Exertion, and it is as liable to be disordered through Inactivity, as the Body.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXX.
Oxon.
April
10, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
IT is worth Observation, that
Homer
every now and then scatters short moral Reflections as he goes along: for Example, Book x. Verse 29.
Rare Gift! —but oh! what Gift to Fools avails?
No Wonder indeed he is so pregnant with them, since Virtue is the great End of his Work.
The Interview between
Ulysses
and his Mother, in Hell, Book xi. Verse 190, is exceeding fine.
At Verse 423, we have a new Instance of the Hospitality of the Antients.
Verse 444. In spite of all that is said in Defence of
Homer
here, I cannot help thinking all this Speech very mean, and unworthy of
Ulysses.
The Description of
Hercules,
at Verse 747, is very awful.
I am of Opinion, that if you take the whole Account of
Ulysses
's Descent into Hell, and compare it with that of
Aeneas
in
Virgil
's sixth Aeneid, you will find the former fall infinitely short of the latter; than which nothing, sure, was ever written with greater Mastery of Fancy and Judgment. It is worth your while to compare them.
Now we are to leave the
Phoeacians,
and I cannot, for my Heart, think they were so worthless a People, as the Commentators would make them. Are they not kind, hospitable, and beneficent? Do they not understand the Arts of Sailing, Building, Gardening, Commerce, and so forth? All that can be said against them, is, that they lived luxuriously; and is there any Wonder that such a happy People should live so?
The Commentators excuse
Homer
for the strange improbable Stories he makes
Ulysses
tell, because he tells them to an idle, credulous, vain-glorious People. But, in my Opinion, this is no Defence, at all; for as they do not contradict his Narrations, so it is immaterial, as to the Truth of the Stories, who he told them to.
Virgil,
in my Opinion, has not only happily imitated the Story of
Elpenor,
in the twelfth Book of the
Odyssey,
but has also improved upon it. Herein the Latin seems to have an Advantage over the Greek Poet.
Homer's Elpenor
was a worthless Fellow, yet the Author treats him as a Man of great Importance.
Ulysses
first meets him in Hell, where there is a long Conversation between them, and, undeserving as he was, great Care is taken about his Monument; whereas
Virgil
's
Palinurus,
besides being his chief Pilot, was a Man of Integrity and Virtue.
Verse 210. What Reason can be assigned why
Ulysses
did not stop his Ears with Wax as well as the rest? The Song of the Syrens here is admirable, and Mr.
Pope
has rendered it in Lines exquisitely smooth and melodious.
Ver.
268.
———forgetful of the Voice divine,
All dreadful bright, my Limbs in Armour shine.
Was not this Madness in
Ulysses?
Yet it were Pity, had it not been; since it contains a noble Moral, in shewing us the Folly and Absurdity of disobeying the Commands of Heaven.
The People whom
Homer
devotes to Destruction, Verse 420, you are to observe, he first prepares for it, by a profane and illicit Way of performing Sacrifice. They are going to perpetrate an impious Deed, and they address themselves to it in a profane Manner. Compare this with the Sacrifices of
Korah, Dathan,
and
Abiram,
and with the Offerings of
Nabal
and
Abihu,
who put unhallowed Fire into their Censers. See the Book of
Numbers,
Chap. xvi. &c. The Vengeance which overtook the Companions of
Ulysses
for destroying, or taking to their own Use, what was consecrated to
Apollo,
seems to be a general Warning to Mankind, not to convert to profane Uses what has been once set apart for religious Purposes.
Book xiii. Verse 35. Here is a fine Representation of
Ulysses,
and it is much heightened by the Simile. Had you ever been in the Country at the Time of great Labour, you would be much more sensible of the Strength of it; but the Justness speaks for itself.
Verse 270. I cannot but think that the Doubts of
Ulysses,
after he knew the Person who spoke to him was
Pallas,
are unjustifiable and unreasonable.
Ver.
445.
Tho' leagu'd against me hundred Heroes stand,
Hundreds shall fall, if
Pallas
aid my Hand.
How very like is this Sentiment to what is frequently said in the Holy Scriptures! For Instance,
I will not be afraid for ten Thousands of People, that have set themselves against me round about.
Psal.
iii. Ver. 6.
At Verse 486, we have one of
Homer
's short moral Reflections,
Set thy Soul at Rest,
And know, whatever Heav'n ordains, is best.
We now come to the fourteenth Book, one of the most beautiful in the whole Work. This was my Favourite when I was a Boy, and has remained so ever since. Nothing can be more simple, natural, and affecting, than this Interview between
Ulysses
and
Eumoeus.
The whole indeed is such a sweet Scene of the Country, and contains such a Series of Piety and Goodness, as fills the Mind with inexpressible Delight. What an exquisite Picture does the Poet give of
Eumoeus
at the Opening!
Verse 146. How true, even to this Day, is the Observation which
Eumoeus
makes in this Place!
Ver.
480.
These, while on sev'ral Tables they dispose,
As Priest himself, the blameless Rustic rose.
It appears that
Homer,
notwithstanding he has a great Respect for the Priesthood, thought every Head, or Chief of a Family, was a sort of Priest in his own House, at least in case of Necessity, and this many People contend for, at this Day. Even some very learned and pious Men maintain, that, if a Society of Men were cast on some Place, where they could not have the Ordinances duly administered by a legally-admitted Clergyman, it were then lawful for a Layman to perform the sacred Functions. Something of this Nature is the Permission which the Church of
Rome
gives to Midwives to baptize, in Cases of Necessity.
Verse
494.
From God's own Hand descend our Joys and Woes.
Here is a Piece of Theology exactly correspondent to what many Christian Divines maintain.
Verse 510. Here follows a strange Contrivance to get some Cloaths against the Rigour of the Season, which I cannot think altogether necessary, considering how humane an Host
Eumoeus
is described.
Mr.
Pope
seems to differ much in Opinion from
Longinus
about
Homer,
when he wrote the
Odyssey.
I cannot but join with
Longinus,
in thinking
Homer
was on the Decline. Though it is a charming as well as instructive Composition, yet it seems to me to carry some Marks of old Age. If you have never seen
Longinus,
I will bring one to Town. You may read it in a short Time. It is a small Treatise, but admirably judicious. Recall what
Pope
says of him in his Essay on Criticism,
Thee, great Longinus, all the Nine inspire,
And fill their Critic with a Poet's Fire;
An ardent Judge, who, zealous in his Trust,
With Warmth gives Sentence, and is always just;
Whose own Example strengthens all his Laws,
And is himself the great Sublime he draws.
The Post is just come in, but not a Syllable from you, which makes it less welcome to me. The Duke of
Hamilton
is to come here on
Tuesday,
which will take me off from writing you any more on
Homer,
for some Time; yet let not that hinder your writing, and give me every thing that occurs.
Adieu,
my dear Life,
I am yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXI.
Oxon.
April
15, 1743.
Ma très chere petite Ange,
I Have now finished five Books more of the
Odyssey,
and my Remarks shall be as short as I can possibly make them.
Book xv. Verse 61. Here we meet another Instance of the great Hospitality of the Antients.
Verse 75, and some of the ensuing Lines, contain admirable Rules for good Behaviour then, for what it is now, and ever will continue. The last Line I allude to, namely,
Welcome the coming, speed the parting Guest,
is liberally just; but then the Manner of putting it in Practice should be as delicate as the Precept itself.
Verse 426. What
Homer
here observes of dedicating a Part of a Winter-Night to Conversation, and particularly to the Recollection of past Afflictions, is very natural and just.
Verse 450.
To bend a Bow with tender Skill,
appears to me a very odd Expression.
Book xvi. Verse 9. What follows here is very natural and beautiful, especially the Dogs playing so familiarly at the Return of the Prince, whom they knew so well. Observe, their Behaviour was far different when
Ulysses
came.
Verse 144. When
Telemachus
has enjoined
Eumoeus
to announce his Return to his Mother, how beautifully affecting is the Swain's Reply!
I hear, and I obey,
But old Laertes weeps his Life away,
And deems thee lost; shall I my speed employ
To bless his Age, a Messenger of Joy?
His compassionate Concern for the Grand-father's dejected Situation, joined to the Readiness wherewith he undertakes to carry glad Tidings to
Penelope,
is the Result of the most humane and benevolent Mind.
Verse
176.
The Dogs intelligent confess'd the Tread
Of Pow'r divine, and howling, trembling fled.
This Notion prevails among Country People, at least in Scotland, to this Day. They fancy the Dogs are sensible when a good or an evil Spirit comes into a House.
Verse 204.
Ulysses
discovering himself to his Son affords us a very fine and pleasing Scene; yet I think it much inferior to that of
Joseph
making himself known to his Brethren, I confess.
Verse
345.
Argus, the Dog, his antient Master knew.
What a Pack of unfeeling Wretches must they be, who cavilled at this Incident of the faithful Dog! All that
Pope
says on it does Honour to his own Humanity and Discernment.
Book
xix.
Ver.
536.
Then chaunting mystic Lays.
The Power of curing Wounds by Charms or Incantations, is still believed by many common People.
On Sunday I hope to send you some more Observations, and finish with the
Odyssey
by the Time I come to Town, which perhaps will not be before
Wednesday.
You see my Remarks now come within a very small Compass. It would be as endless, as unnecessary, to animadvert on every Beauty. I shall, at all Events, write again on Sunday, and let you know, to an Hour, when I come to Town. I would certainly have come on
Monday,
but the Duke of
Hamilton
does not go from this till
Saturday
; after that I must go see Lady
Susan Keck,
the
Duke
's Aunt, who lives twelve Miles from this; from her I return to
Oxford,
and thence set off for
London.
Do not neglect to write me. The
Duke
took his Degree of Doctor of Laws yesterday; there was a vast Crowd, and the whole University met.—How does your Mama?
I am, comme auparavant,
ma très chere,
veritablement le votre, J. P.
P. S.
You did not write me if you wish to see
Longinus.
Your Mama's Letter is just come to Hand.
LETTER LXXII.
Oxon.
April
19, 1743.
My Dear,
ON Sunday I received a Letter from you, of no Date, which I impute to the Hurry you were in when you wrote it. If the Duke of
Hamilton
had not been here, I had seen you before now. He went away on Saturday; I accompanied him to
Henley,
about 18 Miles from this City, stayed there all Night, and returned hither on Sunday. My Visit to
Tew,
the Place where his Grace's Aunt resides, was to have been made this Day, but is deferred till my Return from
London
; so I shall see you sooner than I thought, and perhaps may be able to tell you the exact Time, before I seal this Letter.
The Duke of
Hamilton
has no Occasion for the Degree of Doctor of Laws, but it is an Honour the University pays him. It is customary to confer different Degrees of Honour, to those who study therein. That of
Batchelor of Arts,
may be taken after having resided so long a Time, and undergoing such Examinations as are appointed. In the same Manner, Students may be advanced to the Degree of
Master of Arts.
Afterwards they can be promoted to a
Batchelorship
in one of the three great Professions, Divinity, Law, or Physic; and after that they may be made
Doctors
in those Professions, according to the different Studies they have pursued. But sometimes these Degrees are conferred, without waiting the ordinary Time, or passing the Examinations,
Honoris Gratiâ,
that is to say, to do Honour to the Person who receives them. This was the Case with the Duke of
Hamilton,
he having been greatly beloved, esteemed, and respected, for his Behaviour, while at this University. I hope I have now satisfied your Curiosity; but I had almost forgot to tell you that sometimes a Doctorship in a fourth Profession is given, namely, in Music; but this is not held, in any wise, equal to the others.
I have now taken my Place in the Stage-Coach for Friday next, so if it please God, I hope to see you about eight o'Clock at Night, on Saturday, at farthest.
I am, with my hearty Services,
ma chere Petite,
le votre, J. P.
LETTER LXXIII.
Oxon.
May
13, 1743.
My dearest Angel,
I Arrived safe here yesternight, between seven and eight, nothing having happened worth mentioning, except that I was mortified with a great deal of impertinent Chat in the Coach. We were forced to drive two Miles out of the Way to set down two Boys at their Mother's Door. One Passenger grumbled much at it. I asked him, whether he would not, in the Parent's Situation, wish for such a Courtesy, at the trifling Inconvenience of a short Delay to the Passengers, and in fine Weather? He received the Reproof in Silence, though he did not seem by his Looks to thank me for it. There are more such unfociable Persons to be met, who prefer the Indulgence of their own peculiar Humour, to any essential Gratification or Service they can bestow on others. Poor People! they are composed of very indifferent Principles, or have been very ill taught.
I have found all my Friends here well. No Revolutions or News in our littte Society since I left it.
I shall now finish the
Odyssey
; but as I have several Things to do and settle, and Letters to write, you may perhaps not hear from me again for two or three Days. As soon as I have finished the
Odyssey,
we shall think of something else to furnish out our epistolary Conversation. You know no Post goes from this Place on Saturday, nor arrives here on Monday, so you cannot expect a Letter from from me again till Tuesday at soonest, and it may be later; yet let not that prevent your writing.
At the Beginning of my Letter, I mentioned impertinent Chat. I will give you one Instance. There was one Fellow in the Coach, who told us, three Times, a long, dull, and consequently tedious Story, of his having been at the taking of a Highwayman; but that, like a prudent Soldier, he reserved his Fire till he had Occasion for it. When he had told it us once, he took care to repeat it as often as any new Passenger came into the Coach, which produced, on the whole, a third Narration. He described the Highwayman's Person and Dress, his Horse, his own Horse, the whole Chace, his personal Intrepidity, the taking, Trial, and Condemnation of the unhappy Rogue, with a Thousand more contingent Circumstances equally important and entertaining. How natural is it to repeat, as well as to aggrandize Matters, which we think may redound to our own Credit! The Story still buzzes in my Ears, and haunts me like a Ghost; but if I dwell upon it any longer, I shall become as troublesome as the Relater, so I break off.
I am,
my dearest,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXIV.
Sunday,
3
o'clock, May
15, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
JUST now I received yours, which was very acceptable. My first was under Cover; you'll see it is not franked; the second was sent
tout droit,
which is the Reason why they were both delivered at once. The Story of the poor young Lady makes me melancholy.
I informed you, some Time since, that the
Proverbs, Ecclesiasticus, Ecclesiastes,
and
the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach,
would furnish us with Materials for writing. You cannot read more profitable Books, believe me; and if you bestow a due Share of Attention and Reflection on them, you will find them exceedingly pleasant, as well as profitable.
Let me know if you have been with Lady W— yet. Be not too bashful; yet withal, never lose that graceful Modesty, which is the greatest Ornament of your Sex. Never give yourself Airs; never press to
shew away,
as they call it. Hate and detest Affectation, foolish Pride, and Vanity. Be affable and courteous to all, be inwardly familiar with few. Neither harm nor speak ill of any one, and be not concerned for Fame and Admiration.
Observe these Rules, which, though few, if well observed, will shew you to the World in that Light, wherein it is your Desire and Interest to appear, without your giving yourself any Trouble about it.
I am, avec mes Complements,
my dear Angel,
your faithful Friend, J. P.
LETTER LXXV.
Oxon.
May
20, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
ONCE more for the Odyssey. I have got through three Books more, on which I have made but few Observations.
Book xx. Verse 55. The Complaint of
Minerva,
in this Place, is analogous to that which we find so often made by our Saviour in the Gospel,
O ye of little Faith,
&c.
Verse 120.
Ulysses
desiring a Sign to confirm his Faith, in this and the two following Books, is exactly conformable to many Places in Scripture. The Story of
Ahaz,
as well as of others, will sufficiently prove it.
Book xxi. Verse 10. Is it not too much affected to call
Ivory, Elephant?
It is done, however, in other Places as well as in this.
Verse 274. The Suitors impute their Impotence in bending the Bow of
Ulysses,
to their Profanation of a holy Day. Whether it was a fictitious or a real Excuse, it shews at least that Irreligion was held a very atrocious Crime in
Homer
's Time.
Verse 427.
Ulysses
turning and examining the Bow, to prove if it was decayed or worm-eaten, amid the Taunts of the Suitors, and his bending it, compared to a Musician winding up the Strings of his Instrument, is most admirably fine. The Notes here are well worth reading.
Verse 448. This is an exquisite Comparison. The Twang of the String, short and sharp, like the shrill Note of a Swallow, was equally a Mark of Vigour and Address.
Book xxii. Verse 367. All that follows here, relative to
Phemius
and
Medon,
their Supplication, the Interposition of
Telemachus,
and the Motives which induced Ulysses to spare them, excite both our Pity and Admiration. The Idea which
Phemius
gives of Poets and Poetry, is one of the finest that can be conceived, and worthy to be imprinted on every Memory.
For dear to Gods and Men is sacred Song.
Self-taught, I sing; by Heav'n, and Heav'n alone,
The genuine Seeds of Poesy are sown;
And (what the Gods bestow) the lofty Lay
To Gods alone, and God-like Worth we pay.
— — — nor sordid Pay,
Nor servile Flatt'ry stain'd the moral Lay.
Verse 425. Here is a most just and beautiful Comparison. The Situation of the Fishes, so poetically rendered by Mr.
Pope,
must touch every compassionate Mind;
All naked of their Element, and bare,
The Fishes pant, and gasp in thinner Air.
I must return to Verse 137, of this Book. Read the Note upon it, and tell me if you don't think the Caution of placing the Bow out of the Reach of the Suitors was needless, when none of them could bend it.
My next shall finish the
Odyssey.
Adieu.
J. P.
LETTER LXXVI.
Oxon.
May
22, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Shall in this close what I have to say on the
Odyssey.
Book xxiii. Verse 13. Here are four Lines which are very consonant to what we frequently meet in the holy Writings, particularly in the 19th Chapter
Isaiah;
"Surely the Princes of
Zoan
are Fools, &c."
Verse 81, and some following Lines, contain Sentiments very analogous to many in the Book of
Job.
It is worth your while to compare them with the following Chapters, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, which indeed are worth the most attentive Perusal and Remarks.
Verse 320. This Conversation between
Ulysses
and
Penelope,
how naturally beautiful! In all Degrees of Life we may hourly trace the same Consequences of a long Absence, whether between Man and Wife, or Friend and Friend. The Episode of
Mercury
conducting the Souls of the Suitors to Hell, at the Opening of the 24th Book, is undoubtedly fine; though after all that can be said in Defence of it, to me it appears brought in (to use a common Phrase) by Head and Shoulders. It seems as if the Poet had the Character of
Achilles
so much at Heart, that he thought it not sufficiently compleated, without this finishing Stroke.
Verse 224.
Homer,
you observe, takes every Opportunity to pay Honour to Poets and Poetry. These two Lines,
The Gods, to honour her fair Fame, shall raise
(Their great Reward) a Poet in her Praise,
and the six preceding, are so strong, and at the same Time so charming an Incentive to Virtue, that I cannot but think a Woman, who has a laudable Ambition and Love of Virtue, must be greatly confirmed by them, in a virtuous and honourable Course of Life.
Verse 249. I cannot endure
Pope
's bald Expression of
the old Man,
for so he makes Ulyssses stile his Father. In
Homer
it is
the Father,
which has undeniably much more Decorum, Respect, and Affection.
I have nothing further to add to what has been said in the Notes on the Close of this great Work. I shall endeavour to get you
Kennel
's Translation of
Horace
's Judgment on the
I
iad
and Odyssey. All other Translations of that Passage are bad. His only is tolerable.
I scarce need remark to you that
Virgil
copied much from
Homer,
particularly in the sixth and last Book; but methinks it would be entertaining to compare the Passages of two such great Poets, and two such fine Translators as
Pope
and
Dryden.
I have received only one Letter from you since I left London, yet this is the fifth I have written to you.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXVII.
Oxon.
May
30, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
THE whole Hall is gone on a Merry-making, this Day, into the Country, except the Principal (Dr.
King
) and myself. I have therefore laid hold of this Occasion to send you
The Furniture of a Lady's Mind,
and Extracts from another Poem, by Dr.
Swift.
I think them both instructive and pleasing. In my last, you know, I enclosed some select Passages from his
Grizette.
I transcribed as much of it as I thought worthy your Notice. This Author, excellent as he is, often mixes a Something very gross, even in his wittiest Poems
This, in all Probability, was the Reason why Mr.
Preston
chose to transcribe select Passages from
Swift
's Works, rather than lay the Author at large before his Pupil.
. When you have read those Passages, tell me if you do not think it a most judicious Distinction between affected and real Wit, Wit mingled with ill Manners, instead of that Decorum and Modesty, which best becomes your Sex.
Swift
did not think so ill of Women as he wrote. His Motives were to wean them from such Faults, as he thought them most subject to. There is a good deal of Affinity between the
Grizette,
and
the Furniture,
&c. I will send you two or three little Poems more by the same Author, and shall be glad to have your Opinion of them; I mean, when you are at Leisure, for I do not desire to oppress you.
Pray put the enclosed into the Penny-Post.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXVIII.
Oxon.
June
2, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
JUST now I have the Pleasure of of yours. You thank me for what does not deserve Thanks. The Picture was drawn to my Hand, and I thought it a Picture worth your looking at; though I assure you, I had not the least Idea that it resembled you. Had I thought so, I should not have been at so much Pains as to transcribe it, merely to mortify you. Yet your Application may turn to some Account: it may serve as a Hint or Notice to shew you what you are to shun, or as a Beacon set up to warn you of the Rocks and Shelves, whereon many of your Sex have been shipwrecked.
I now send you two Songs, leaving you to find out where their Value lies; and when you have wrote me your Thoughts of them, I will then let you know wherein I think their Merit consists. I do not know if ever you read the
Progress of Love
; if not, I will send it to you. You have herewith the
New Ballad of New Similes.
It is really true, that Sir
Alexander Murray
is dead. He died at
Edinburgh,
on the 18th of May.
My Compliments to your Aunt and Mama.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours very truly, J. P.
LETTER LXXIX.
Oxon.
June
5, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
JUST now I received yours. Your Observations are very just. The whole Song consists of a Heap of fine smooth Words, put together either without any Meaning at all, or ending in downright Nonsense, after the Manner of many of our modern Love-Songs. I would have you observe too that there are no less than two Similes in so short a Poem, which is very ordinary in our Love-Songs, though very unnatural; and, besides that they have no Relation to the Subject, they are very absurd in themselves.
The other Ballad is a very severe Satire on the Gentlemen of the Army. The Beauty of it consists in its appearing so very serious, and being so exceedingly ridiculous. I beg you will particularly observe the two last Stanzas, save one. Here the personated Officer accuses himself both with Cowardice and Ignorance of Letters. Mark how ridiculous a Fall he makes in Stanza the third.
Alas! I never thought a Priest would please your Palate;
This seems to be grave and serious; observe what follows;
Besides, I'll hold a Groat, he'll put you in a Ballad.
How serious does he appear, when he says,
It fills my Heart with Woe, &c.
and afterwards calls a Churchman being by the Ladies preferred to an Officer, "the Growth of Corruption,
&c."
It is, all through, a most admirable Satire, and the Humour is exceedingly well hit off. Then it is calculated for the Tune of
Patie
's
Mill.
If you heard it sung to that Tune, you would find it set off mightily; it being a sweet complaining Scotch Tune, the Captain's Complaint, if we may so call it, would thereby become still more ridiculous.
Charles Murray
does not succeed to the Title, but a Son of
David Murray,
who was an elder Brother than
Charles.
A Campaign is the Warfare of one Season; and to open the Campaign, implies no more than to begin the military Operations of such or such a Year.
When I send you a Production written with Spirit, Wit, and Judgment, either for or against your Sex, you are to understand the Contents as so many Hints to you, what you are to shun, and what you are to pursue. I have herewith enclosed three very, severe Pieces, but do not fancy I am drawing your Picture. I am only offering that to your View, from which you may discern Beauty from Ugliness. The next three I shall send will be much more pleasing; but do not be so vain as to imagine them intended to represent you neither; though I trust you come much nearer these, than what I send you now. I shall give you my Sentiments of these three Portraits in my next.
I am, my dear Ange, le votre, J. P.
P. S.
I don't desire you to write oftner than you like, but consider well what you write.
Adieu!
LETTER LXXX.
Oxon.
June
7, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Suppose you have, before this comes to your Hand, formed a Judgment of the three Ladies I sent to wait upon you; I mean
Sylvia, Artimesia,
and
Phryne.
You may learn something from the Conversation of the two first; but as for Madam
Phryne,
I cannot say you can improve by her; and indeed, but that she has a little Wit in her Conversation, I had not sent her to you at all.
Sylvia
is a poor Lady, who struggles between Virtue and Vice, and is really not so bad as she would appear. She has taken up a false Notion of the Means of recommending herself to the Esteem of Mankind. She thinks ill-natured Wit, Censure, and Raking, are the Ingredients for the Composition of a fine Lady, yet her Heart recoils every now and then. How many poor Women have lost themselves through this foolish Notion! There is nothing more dangerous for any Person, especially a Woman, than to set up some wrong Quality as the distinguishing Mark of her Character. A Coward perhaps sets up for a Bully, a chearful Woman for a Prude, or a modest, good-natured Girl takes it into her Head to be a Termagant. Now besides being unnatural from quitting their proper Characters, they are all alike full of Affectation, than which nothing is more detestable, except downright Incontinence.
Artimesia
is a Prude, but a masculine Prude; she affects Learning, but neglects Decency, Cleanliness, and Modesty. If I were with you, I think I could name three Persons, with whom the Characters agree very well, though I could not tell you the exact Persons the Poet meant.
I have herewith sent you a fourth Character, which is not so bad as the former; for I think it very natural, as well as excusable, for People, especially Women, to talk of their Children, Family Affairs, and so forth; and still more so in Country Places, where they meet their Neighbours only now and then. Hence I think the Doctor rather too severe, unless he barely meant that Women should not carry this sort of Discourse to Excess.
I have now sent you five or six bad Characters of your Sex, to which you may add whatever you may have read beside.
Congreve
furnishes many; namely, Mrs.
Fondlewife
Laetitia
in the
Old Batchelor.
, Mrs.
Frail
Love for Love.
, Mrs.
Foresight
Love for Love.
, Lady
Froth
Double Dealer.
, Lady
Pliant
Double Dealer.
, Lady
Touchwood
Double Dealer.
, Lady
Wishfort
Way of the World.
, Mrs.
Marwood
Way of the World.
,
&c.
&c.
and even his virtuous Characters are worth observing for their Failings; for Example, the Affectation of
Belinda
Old Batchelor.
and
Millamant
Way of the World.
, and the Wildness of
Angelica
Love for Love.
.
Some Critics have asserted that
Congreve
has drawn none but vicious Characters, but I think they are mistaken.
Cynthia
Double Dealer.
is an Exception. He has many other beautiful Characters, not faultless indeed. That Writer was too great a Master of Nature, to draw
Faultless Monsters that the World ne'er saw,
as the Duke of
Buckingham
calls them. We must not forget
Ben Johnson's
Lady
Wou'd-be
Volpone.
, and
Otway
's
Lady Dunce
Soldier for the Ladies.
. These bad Characters (which weak undiscerning People have condemned as
mproper for Representation, and thence have endeavoured to decry the Utility of the Drama in general) have all their good Tendencies. There is something to be culled out of every one worth observing and shunning; and those who say that faulty Characters should not be produced on the Stage, might with an equal Degree of Propriety assert, that there should be no Shade in a Picture.
In my next I will send you some pleas
ng Characters from the same Author; but in the mean Time (by the way of Music between the Acts) I give you some Extracts from Dr.
Swift
's Poem on his own Death. You will find in it a great deal of Wit, Humour, good Sense, and true Judgment of Mankind, and the Faults of both Sexes most humourously exposed and ridiculed.
Perhaps you may have read this Poem already, notwithstanding, attend to it once more. Much Good may be derived from it Vice and Folly appear in so many Shapes, that it is worth our while to study as many and as various Characters of faulty Men and Women, as we can find, in order to warn us against them, in whatsoever Shape they may appear, or attack us. I shall refer a Translation of a Passage of this Tendency from the noble Historian,
Livy,
to my next Letter; but observe, when I said that we should study as many of these Characters as we can, I meant to imply, if they are
well-drawn
; for, if they are not, we may mislead and deceive ourselves.
If Affairs will permit, I could wish you to come and stay a while here this Summer; but then you ought to bring a Recommendation with you to some Family here, (for indeed I am not acquainted with any) otherwise, I fear your Time may go off very heavily.
I am,
my dear Life,
your J. P.
LETTER LXXXI.
Oxon.
June
10, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I JUST now received yours of yesterday. I am perfectly of your Opinion about the Verses on the
Dean's Death
; and especially of those four Lines, which are so lively a Representation of what usually happens on such Occasions.
I have one Word more to say about
Artimesia.
It is not a vicious Character, only it includes a Want of Decency, and a total Neglect of all the Duties of Life, for the Affectation of Learning. If I remember right,
Pope
imputes much the same Charge to Mrs.
Haywood
and
Centlivre.
I have said thus much, for the Sake of quoting you four Lines from the admirable
Boileau,
which I think much
a-propos.
Que les vers ne soyent pas votre eternel Emploi,
Cultivez vos Amis, soyez Fille de Foy;
C'est peu d'etre agreable et charmante dans un Livre,
Il faut sçavoir encore, et converser, et vivre.
I have not much more Time for writing at present, but on Sunday I will send you many Things to make Amends for what I now defer. I shall not send you the pleasing Characters I mentioned till then; but to recompense your Patience, I enclose the
Progress of Love,
with which I believe you will be much pleased. I likewise convey you some Lines of Mr.
Pope
on the Birth-Day of Mrs.
Blunt,
a Lady whom he admires. There you will see another faulty Character drawn in the Lines I have marked;
Phyllis
is another of the same Species; yet these, and those I sent you formerly, are all different from each other.
I have not Time to say more, so
.
I am, yours, J. P.
P. S.
I shall continue to send you occasionally some more of the Dean's comic Pieces.
LETTER LXXXII.
Oxon.
June
12, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Here enclose you two Poems; in one of them the estimable and unbecoming Qualifications of your Sex are set in Opposition to each other, by Way of Contrast. How lasting are those of the first Sort, how fleeting those of the latter! Beauty and all external Advantages are ingeniously compared to Fruit ingrafted on the Stock of an annual Plant, which indeed makes a luxuriant Shoot, but is soon gone. I presume you know that an annual Plant continues only one Year, such as Fruits, Vegetables, and Corn of all Kinds. Those which last many Years, as large Trees, we call Perennials.
In the other Poem the
Dean
pursues
Epictetus
's Notion of Things in our own Power, such as Virtue and Truth. He makes small Account of Beauty, Shape, Complexion, and such Qualities as we cannot procure to ourselves; but Honour, Chastity, Decency, Integrity, and all within our own Power to attain, he places in a most estimable Light.
Ovid,
in his
Art of Love,
which I believe you have by you, or at least have read, finely pursues the same Train of Ideas, both in his two first Books, which he wrote to instruct the Men, and in his third, which he calculated to regulate the Conduct of Women.
There is something exceeding singular in the Humour of both Poems. In
Stella
's
Birth-Day
he continues the Strain he began with, in talking of her. He then puts these in Opposition, and, as it were, Foils to her, as if they were really
Signs.
Witness those four most humorous Lines,
Then who can think we'll quit the Place,
When Doll hangs out a newer Face,
Or stop and 'light at Chloe's Head,
With Scraps and Leavings to be fed?
I have many more entertaining Pieces for you of the
Dean
's, such as
Mary the Cookmaid
's
Letter to Dr. Sheridan,
and two Ballads; the one stiled
Quadrille,
the other
Molly Mog,
which I will send you at some future Time, if you tell me in your next Letter that you have not seen them. I do not think it a Trouble to transcribe a Piece of any Length, provided I am assured you reap either Instruction or Delight from it; but both these united ought to be the Result of Reading. If
you
do not acquire this Advantage, the Fault, I should conceive, must be in my wrong Choice of Materials. You are docile and quick; and with a Person of your Talents, Hints and transient Observations, delivered in this light easy Mode of a Letter, will go further than all the set formal Rules for teaching, that ever were laid down.
Till I send you the above, you shall have
Prometheus,
written against
Wood
and his Halfpence. It is very full of Wit. I give it you therefore now by way of Relief, and at some future Time you shall have his favourable Characters of Women.
I think it necessary to premise some Account of the above-mentioned Poem, which possibly you are a Stranger to.
A Man, whose Name was
Wood,
obtained a Patent from King George I. to make Halfpenny Pieces of base Metal, which were to be current in
Ireland.
This Project would have drained that poor Kingdom of all the good Money; but the
Dean,
under the Name of
M. B. Drapier,
wrote such smart Letters and Poems, sometimes serious and sometimes ludicrous, as to raise a Resentment against
Wood,
that abolished his Scheme. The Nation would not receive any of his Coin, and the Coiner was in Danger of being torn in Pieces. From that Time, the
Dean
was looked on as the Deliverer of his Country.
You talk of going to
Richmond
for a few Days. You must stay a Week abroad at least, otherwise it is not worth your while to go. During your Excursion, you should go by Water to
Hampton Court,
see that Palace, the famous
Cartoons
of
Raphael,
and the Beauties of King
William
's Court. Then I would recommend to you to walk through the Park, to view the Cascades, from thence to
Ham-House,
and so return to
Richmond.
I give you this Advice, because I wish that every thing you undertake, even a Scheme of Dissipation, should answer some useful End. A Survey of fine Painting feeds the Mind, by enlarging the Fancy; the Walks and Cascades shew what human Art is capable of; and even a Meadow or common Field are Sources of Learning, Piety, and Admiration, in an attentive and well-directed Mind.
My humble Duty to your Mama and Aunt.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXXIII.
Oxon.
June
17, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Have your Letter of the 14th, but where has it been? It was not put into the Post till yesternight, for the Post-Mark bears the 16th Day of the Month, the Letter itself is dated the 7th, and I have only received it this Day. Here is an Interval of nine Days. However, now that it is come at last, I am very well pleased with it. It is written very clean and genteel. It has the Appearance of coming from a
Gentlewoman.
People are not in general sufficiently aware how much they expose themselves to Censure or Ridicule, by a wrong or careless Manner of acquitting themselves in trifling Affairs. A neat or a slovenly Disposition may be known as well in the Folding and Address of a Letter, as by personal Acquaintance.
Your Thoughts and Reflections are entirely just, and prettily expressed, entirely of a Piece with the Neatness of the writing, so that (if I may use the Expression) I love both the Soul and Body of your Letter.
I here send you
Prometheus,
and Part of a Song, wherein there is a pretty Contrast of three young Ladies. In my next Letter I propose sending you three Poems, all written in Favour of the Ladies, to make Amends for the disagreeable Pictures I shewed you before. After these you shall have
Mary the Cook-Maid,
and
Quadrille,
with some Things out of
Horace
; which, although the Translation is not dressed in the best Poetry in the World, will, in Respect to the Sentiment, I dare say, give you much Delight.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
P. S.
There is one Passage in the Poem of
Prometheus,
which requires Explanation. It is this following Line,
Venus was brib'd to let it pass.
The Dutchess of
Munster
was meant by
Venus,
who was bribed by
Wood
to get the Patent passed by the
King.
LETTER LXXXIV.
Oxford,
June
21, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Never heard of that Song of
Stella
and
Flavia,
which you say is now so much in Vogue. I wish you would get me a Copy of it. I have at last sent the beautiful Characters I promised, and hope you will like them. I leave you to find out the Beauties in the
Extract,
and
the Lady at Court
; but I must have a Word or two about
Biddy Floyd,
which I dare say you have seen long before now.
The Humour, it is true, is whimsical, but exceeding just. You see it is given by way of Receipt, and carried on pretty much in the Stile of common Receipts for making Jellies or Conserves. In the first Place, he gives you the essential Qualities, and then points out the Faults which are apt to grow up with them, and from which those Qualities ought to be separated. For Example, he says, that
Candour, Innocence, and Good-nature,
should be picked clean from
Demureness, Aukwardness, and Coyness;
the Seasoning or Pickle to those fine Qualities consists of
Good Breeding, Wit, Air, and decent Pride,
cleansed from
Coquetry, Affectation, Pertness, and Vanity.
This you must allow to be very apt and judicious, perfectly in the Stile of common Receipts. For Instance now,
To preserve Apples, you must separate the Fruit from
The Peel, the Stalk, the Core, and Seeds,
you must then make use of
The finest Sugar free from all Dross;
and during the Process, to clear off the Scum as it rises, and so forth.
This is all as instructive as entertaining; and I do think, my dear Nancy, that every young Woman should always carry this
Receipt to make a Beauty
about with her. The Female that is
seasoned,
and
preserved
in this Manner, take my Word for it, will be a
Beauty
in the Eyes of all sensible Men and Women, though
Jove,
in mixing up the Composition, has not, perhaps, employed his finest Clay.
In my next I will send you the
Quidnuncs
; it is, in my Opinion, a fine Tale, full of Humour, and carries with it a very useful Moral.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXXV.
Oxon.
June
23, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
HAVE you an Inclination for
Molly Mog,
or the
Letter to Mr. John Moore
about Worms? They are both diverting.
You have now read the
Journal of a modern fine Lady.
It sets forth the foolish unprofitable Manner in which many Ladies pass, or rather waste their Time, in so lively a Strain, that I think you should read it often, and that with great Attention. Not that I mean to imply any immediate Necessity you have for it; but though you do not stand in need of it by way of Remedy, it might serve to carry about as an Amulet or Charm; a kind of Preservative against the Evils it is calculated to cure.
Livy,
the great
Roman Historian,
says, the Use of History is to teach us what we are to shun, and what we are to imitaee. This ought to be the great End of Poetry as well as History. And
Horace,
who was one of the most judicious Poets that ever lived in any Age or Country, tells us, this Instruction is to be attained from a Mixture of the
utile
with the
dulce,
that is, of the
useful
with the
pleasant.
Now in all the little Poems I have sent you, I think there is this Mixture; and they likewise answer the End prescribed by
Livy,
they
teach what we are to shun, and what to imitate.
Horace
's golden Rule of
utile dulci,
was never more properly applied than when it was made the Motto of a Theatre; since the Stage, under suitable Regulations, is most capable of answering the Intent. The greatest moral Writers can only prescribe Rules for a Rectitude of Conduct and Decorum of Behaviour; the Stage shews you the Beauty and Force of those Rules, when put into Practice. It moreover answers the great Purpose and Use which
Livy
ascribes to History. It shews
what to shun, and what to imitate,
more immediately and accurately than any Historian whatsoever is capable of doing.
I enclose the
Quidnuncs.
I think there is not any thing necessary to subjoin, by way of Note, except to tell you that the Duke of
Orleans
was Regent of
France
in this King's Minority. He was a very great Man, and died when I was in
France,
in the Year 1722.
I should be glad to know exactly when you set out for
Richmond,
because I think I can provide you a very agreeable Companion in the literary Way. It is a Poem called
The Alley.
It describes all inconvenient and disagreeable Circumstances, which are met in the pleasant-situated Town and Villages on the Banks of the
Thames.
It would be an Entertainment to you any where, and at any Time; but you will be much more sensible of the Beauties, when you are passing through those Places. I therefore shall not send it, till you tell me that you are about to set forward.
You shall have two or three little diverting Poems to-morrow.
Adieu,
my dear apt Scholar!
I am ever yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXXVI.
Oxon.
June
24, 1743.
My Dear,
I Send you herewith a small Collection of
Epigrammatical
Poems; the Beauty of this Kind of writing consists in a certain Point, or Turn of Wit. They are rather for your Diversion, than any thing else. This perhaps you may reproach me for, as deviating from the great
utile dulci,
which I so strongly recommended in my last Letter. But, provided this Rule is generally practised, there is no Harm in a short casual Deviation; as there is not any thing amiss in rising to a Game of Battledore and Shuttlecock, after a long sedentary Application to Reading or Writing; nay it is rather right than wrong, in-as-much as it tends to render both Mind and Body, like
Aesop
's relaxed Bow,
fitter for Use when you want them.
The Happiness of a Parson's Life,
is surely exceeding humorous. It very naturally describes those simple and humble Pleasures, whereof a Country Clergyman's Life consists. Yet these perhaps afford a more lasting Satisfaction, (though not so exquisite an Enjoyment) than those which are more refined, and what the
French
call more
spirituelles
; at least, they are very innocent Pleasures.
One of the next two Poems I shall send you, is called
the Elephant,
or
Parliament-Man,
and the other
Aye and No.
They both satirize, with great Wit and Humour, the Corruption of
Members,
which so shamefully prevails at present. The Parliament, I presume you know, is an Assemblage of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons of a Kingdom, for national Purposes. It derives its Name from the French Verb
parler, to speak.
We have our English Word
Parley,
from the same Root. Perhaps you could have told me this, and perhaps not, and your Ignorance nevertheless not to be taxed with Blame. It is amazing how much Knowledge is lost for Want of a little common Attention or Observation in our general Intercourse with the World. Numberless are the Instances I have seen of sensible clever People being put to the Blush, and to a Difficulty, by a simple Question proposed from a Person of inferior Talents, and be infinitely astonished at themselves, that they should have been so long ignorant of so plain a Matter.
If I have a Letter from you by this Day's Post, which I look for, I will add a Postscript. Pray see that the enclosed be immediately put into the Penny-Post.
I am, with due Respects,
my dear Nancy,
your J. P.
LETTER LXXXVII.
Oxon.
June
26, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
YOUR Letter just now came to my Hand. I find that, which I wrote you this Day Se'nnight, is miscarried. I enclosed
the Cook-Maid's Letter
in it, and, If I am not mistaken, sent it under Mr. K —'s Cover. Perhaps he consigned it to the Penny-Post, and it has been mislaid or neglected there. It is worth your while to enquire at the little Office near you; and if it be entirely gone, I will send you another Copy of the Poem. I mentioned therein that I would send you a Letter of Introduction to a Family at
Richmond
; and your not noticing this Particular, convinces me that same must be what we have lost.
Now to your Questions—
A
Rap
is a Blow, and likewise a base Coin used in
Ireland.
The
Whigs
are for destroying the
Church,
or at least, for reducing it. The Tories are for exalting it.
Down with the Church,
and
Up with the Church,
were frequent Expressions with the respective Parties.
The
Mill-Dam
is the Place where they keep a Reservoir of Water, to set the Mill going. Observe though this is only for Water-Mills, and the Sound, you know, pretty near that of a vulgar Oath.
Pinking
is making small Holes. This was more in Use, at the Time of the old English Habit, when the Doublets for Men were laced, as Stays are for Women. Captain
Bluff,
in
Congreve,
you know, says,
I'll pink his Soul,
in Allusion to this Fashion.
The Ana-Baptists are not baptized till they come to Years of Discretion, and then they are plunged, not sprinkled. The first Part of the Word is adopted from the Greek,
, which signifies against, or contrary. Thus they are
against
baptizing, till such an Advance of Life.
The
Mortuary-Guinea
is the Parson's Due at Burials, for reading the Service, Church-yard Fees,
&c.
It is derived from the Latin Word
Mors,
which means
Death
; thence too we have
mortal.
You shall have all the Poems you write of. In the mean Time, I send
The Elephant,
and
Aye and No
; which I believe will please you much.
I hope to hear from you soon, to know if you are removed, and all Things settled, and how you like your new Apartments. I am, my dear Heart,
yours, J. P.
LETTER LXXXVIII.
Oxon.
July
3, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Write to you so often, and you write to me so seldom, that I am afraid you begin to be tired with the Correspondence, but hope my Fears are groundless. I assure you it is not every one I would take so much Pains for. I thought that the Want of Amusements in
London,
at this Season of the Year, would have rendered my frequent Writing a sort of Diversion to you, and, in some Measure, an Amends for the Loss of others. In order to make this Diversion as agreeable and instructive as I am able, I have transcribed several Poems, such as I thought would best contribute to both these Purposes.
You have Talents so capable of Cultivation, that to be weary of receiving Instruction, would argue an Ingratitude to Nature, and I cannot think you liable to it. Perhaps I write too often, perhaps I burthen you with a Frequency of Subjects; or perhaps a little Lassitude and Inattention comes over you now and then, which, at your Time of Life, are excusable, if not indulged too far. If that be the Case, confess. Such Omissions call, at worst, for the mildest Reproof; but, I cannot help saying, they would become many young Folks better than you.
Convinced that you cannot be purposely negligent, I shall proceed in the old Way. I herewith send
Mary the Cook-Maid's Letter to Dr. Sheridan,
and
The Grove,
translated from
Pastor Fido,
by the Earl of
Roscommon.
This is one of the best Pictures of a happy Life that I have ever seen; true Content and true Love, virtuous and innocent, are here delineated in their native beautiful Colours. I shall send you two or three more Poems which I think equal to the former, when I next write, and then rest awhile, or turn to some other Subject. I will not hurry you at all. I request that you will write only when you have Leisure, and be at Pains to do it in a right Manner. You have gained great Esteem by so doing, for some Time past; do not now begin to forfeit it.
If there be any Passages or Expressions in what I send, which require an Eclaircissement, let me know so much, and I will explain them to you, as fully as I am able. All I do is meant to contribute to your Delight. Nothing can give me more. Pleasure, than to hear that you are happy. Virtue and Piety are the certain Road to Happiness. Let me hear you are virtuous, and I am sure you are happy.
Let me know certainly when you go for
Richmond.
My humble Service to Your Mother and Aunt.
I am,
my dear,
always yours, J. P.
P. S.
You may perceive, my dear, that the above was written before I received yours; and the Reasons for your apparent Remissness are very satisfactory. I shall write again to-morrow, and answer that Letter, et vous envoyer l'Epitre recommendatoire.
LETTER LXXXIX.
Oxford,
July
4, 1743.
My Dear,
I Here enclose a Letter to Mr. O—y at
Richmond,
under the Hill. Any one will tell you the Way to his House. Go there the Morning after your Arrival. If you do not go by ten o'Clock, you may happen to miss of him; should that be the Case, leave the Letter, and your Name, and go again after Dinner about three.
Now to your Questions—
A
Congress
is a Meeting of Ambassadors to settle Variances between different States and Kingdoms.
Cambray
is a Town in
Flanders,
where such a Congress was held. The Word
quadruple
signifies
four-fold,
and four Sovereign Powers were there going to enter into an Alliance at that Congress, but, some strong Exceptions being started, they disagreed, and broke up their Party at
Quadrille.
I think
Stella
and
Flavia
very pretty, but it does not, to me, carry the Air of Dr.
Swift
's Writing. I have enclosed the
Alley,
which I promised should accompany you on your little Tour. Consider the
Cook-maid's Letter
well, and it will amuse you much. You will find some Things in it very like what are called Blunders; some Words are used for others, as
whereof
and
whereby
; some are introduced that have no Meaning at all, as
which,
and
it is four Years,
&c. Now the Word
which
has no Relation to any thing; then
see, the Clock strikes ten,
and
not that I know to my Knowledge.
In a Word, it is exceeding good
low
Humour, and that was all the Author intended. In order to relish any Piece well, it is necessary to consider thoroughly what the Author proposed, and how far he meant to go; if he compasses his own Design, though the Work may not entirely satisfy your Imagination, he has done his Part; and the Deficiency is not to be charged on his having done too little, but on your having expected too much.
Did you ever see
the Furniture of a Lady's Dressing-Room?
If you have not, I will send it to you; though it falls short of Dr.
Swift
's usual Humour, it is nevertheless worth your reading. In Fact, there cannot be any Production of a great Genius, which is not worth one Revisal, provided it be within the Bounds of Decency.
Do you propose to let me know how I shall direct to you during your Stay at
Richmond,
or must I give overwriting till your Return to Town?
I am,
my dear Nancy,
very affectionately, J. P.
P. S.
I have sent you six Franks under another Cover. You will find Mr. and Mrs. O—y, very sensible knowing People.
LETTER XC.
Oxon.
July
17, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
YEsterday I received your agreeable Letter; but you put no Year of our Lord. I don't like this careless Way, because it is the Means of contracting an ill Habit. Besides, you begin a new Sentence with a small Letter, and place no Point between that and your last, which ought never to be done; for though the smaller Points, such as Commas, and Semicolons, may be omitted, full Points never should.
When you go to
Richmond,
you will be hurried about in seeing various Places. This was the Reason for my mentioning an Interval, and I meant no more by it; but as Franks begin to be scarce, I shall be pleased if you write me once a Week, and tell me every Occurrence worth Observation in your Journeys, and how you are received. Perhaps they may be worthy to be called
The Lady's Travels
(not to
Spain,
but) to
Richmond.
You have not yet said when you are to set out, nor how you are to get my Letters, or transmit yours to me. The Penny-Post does not reach
Richmond,
but there is an Office at
Marsh-Gate,
very near the Town. Your best Way to write to me is, in my Opinion, to keep your old Direction, and add,
by London.
I suppose you will take out your few Franks with you.
I send you with this
The Journal of a modern Lady.
In my next, you shall have the
new Simile of a Woman to a Cloud,
and in the next after that,
the Cloud's Answer
; though there are some Indelicacies I much disapprove. However, you are now very capable of discerning, adopting, and rejecting, as best beseems. I have taken up
The Furniture of a Lady's Dressing-Room,
I believe, ten Times, in order to transcribe it for you, and have flung it aside as often; I find, on Examination, it does not please me.
When you come from your Excursion, I will execute a Promise I made some Time since; namely, to send you
Horace
's Judgment of the
Iliad
and
Odyssey.
How much I regret that so exquisite an Author, as
Horace
was, should not hitherto have been translated with that Spirit and Energy he deserves! He had a most elegant Pen; yet he too had, now and then, his Grossnesses; but they, like
Shakespeare
's Puns, were rather the Fault of the Age he lived in, than Deficiency in his own Taste. I will however get you the best Translation I can of the above-named Piece, and some others.
This is the third Letter I have written you this Week.
I am,
my dear dear Nancy,
ever yours, J. P.
P. S.
On Recollection, you had best write me by the General-Post, and not trust to the other. I am greatly pleased with your last, it is so clean and so distinct, the Faults, I have already mentioned, alone excepted.
LETTER XCI.
Oxon.
July
14, 1743.
My Dear,
I Have just now received your Letter, and am very sorry for your ill Fortune; but as this Day and yesterday have been pretty seasonable, and as the Weather seems to be settled, I hope it will now make you some little Amends. If not, you must endure with Patience, or return home ungratified.
You will possibly think me a very cold dull Philosopher, to preach up Patience and Forbearance to a Person at your Time of Life. I confess they are hard Lessons to learn at any Time, but especially so while the Heart is gay, the Passions warm, and Wishes impetuous. Permit me, however, to make one short Observation, which may, in some Measure, qualify those impatient irksome Sensations that arise from Disappointments.
The great Reason why Disappointments sit more uneasy on young Folks, than on Persons advanced in Life, is, that the former assure themselves of a proposed Enjoyment, beyond the Power of Chance to prevent it. They no more advert to the Possibility of a cross Accident, than if there were no such Thing in Nature. Now methinks it is easy to remember that there is such a Thing as a Disappointment, as well as a Delight. If you, my dear Nancy, when you project a Scheme of Pleasure for yourself, or have one proposed to you, would but make it a Rule to say,
I ought not to set my Heart on this,
it would awaken you to all the Chances against you, and so qualify your Mind as to endure the Disappointment without repining, and even enhance the Enjoyment, if your Wishes are gratified
I sincerely wish this Advice may have the same good Effect on some of my young Readers, as it had on Miss
Blisset.
She adopted it the Moment it was given to her, as the Basis of her future Happiness. It is her never-failing Custom to meet all Disappointments, whether in a trivial or a material Concern, with the most perfect Composure of Mind. She may indeed, with great Propriety, be said to be before-hand with ill Chances; since, on a Scheme of Pleasure being proposed, she immediately adverts to the Prevention, instead of the Acquisition; neither does this give any Flatness to her Enjoyments, for I have heard her say it either increases her Relish or their Value; her Pleasures not being worn out in Anticipation, they come to her with all the Gloss of Surprize and Novelty. She attributes the whole Exertion of this philosophical Virtue, and the Advantages she has reaped from it, to the kind and excellent Instruction given by her Tutor in this Letter.
.
I wonder you neglected to take a Book with you. Never travel without one; if you do, you go without your best Companion, in Case of foul Weather or Disappointments.
If the Weather should continue favourable, which I hope it may, do not, by any Means, omit the Sight of
Hampton Court, Ham Walks,
and
Kew Gardens.
You neither tell me when you went out, nor whether you received the Letters I sent you, after the Date of your last, with the Extracts from
Cadenus
and
Vanessa,
and
The Journal of the modern Lady
; but I can excuse that, considering your Uneasiness. If this reaches you at
Richmond,
pray wait on Mr. and Mrs. O—y, with my hearty Service.
Much Enjoyment attend you, if you obtain your Wishes, Patience, if you do not!
I am,
dear Nancy,
yours entirely, J. P.
LETTER XCII.
Oxon.
July
17, 1743.
My Dear,
I Received yours of the 15th just now. I am glad your Mama has condescended to stay another Week, for, notwithstanding my philosophic Admonition, it would grieve me that you should be disappointed of your proposed Pleasure. I hope you will let me know how you like the Places you see about
Richmond.
The Country all around is charming. Be sure not to omit the
Green,
nor indeed any Place. Every Object is Food to a contemplative Mind; and without Observation our Travels are nothing worth. You may smile perhaps at my Application of the Word
Travel,
to your little Excursion, and think it rather ludicrous; but I do not mean it so. At your early Time of Life, and considering the little you have seen of the World, the Phrase is not so improper as, at first, it may appear.
You seem not to relish your Reception at Mr. O—y's; you think it was cold, but it consisted only in
Manner.
A second or third Visit will convince you of this. They are very friendly, sincere People, but have no Ostentation. Such Persons generally improve upon our Acquaintance, whereas those who are full of Professions and external Ceremonies, like great Promisers, too often defraud our Expectations.
In your Progress to
Hampton Court,
I beg you will observe the Village of
Teddington.
It is a Place which I love much.
As soon as I send the Answer to the
Simile
here enclosed, I shall give you my Thoughts on the
Dean
's Way of treating these Subjects; but this must be after your Return to
London.
Give my humble Service to your Mama. I wish you both much Pleasure. Be sure to write me again before you go away, and let me have the whole History of your Travels and Adventures; and pray take Time in doing it; you seem to write in Haste, at least your two last Letters carry this Appearance. It is not how speedily, but
how properly you acquit yourself, that will gain Approbation.
I am,
my dear,
your most affectionate J. P.
LETTER XCIII.
Oxon.
July
20, 1743.
My Dear,
I AM glad my last arrived safe, and that you have had the Satisfaction of seeing some Things about
Richmond
worth Observation. I should be pleased if your Mama would let, you stay a little longer, as you seem to like it so well; I think too it would be of Service to both your Healths. You may give my Respects, and say I join in the Request that she would grant this Indulgence.
I don't know the Adventures you speak of; but why not buy the Book, if you cannot borrow or hire it? I would rather you should do so, than have your Curiosity left ungratified; and as I know the prudent Motive that has restrained you from making the Purchase, I beg you will let me be at the Charge of all such Books as you wish should compose your little Library. But you need not be quite so much at a Loss where you are. Mr. O—y has a good Collection of Authors, and if you will ask the Favour, I am sure he will lend you any you desire, or let you come and chuse for yourself. But then you must take great Care of what you have, and regularly return one when you wish for another, otherwise you will find him reluctant. Some Persons would perhaps accuse him herein of being particular, but it is a Particularity which I have frequently seen; and why should a Compliance with it be deemed hard, since it is no more than is consistent with common good Manners? Lovers of reading very often take up a capricious Fondness for their own Books; and, in Case of an Author being lost, it is not always that a new, and perhaps neater, Edition will make Amends.
I have seen Lord
Cholmondeley
's fine Room, but it was not finished when I saw it.
The
Cloud
was written by Dr.
Sheridan,
I think, but the
Answer
by Dr.
Swift.
The latter is, in my Opinion, much the wittiest, so I have sent it enclosed.
I hope your Stay will be prolonged, for you will not easily forgive yourself, if you do not see
Hampton Court,
and the fine Cartoons of the immortal
Raphael.
The Stair-Cafe, and the Beauties of King
William
's Court, are well worth your Notice, as are the Lodge and Cascade in
Bushy Park. Ham Walks
will also give you great Pleasure, but of another Kind. The former will rather raise your Wonder, (I mean the Court and Paintings) the latter inspire with a soft Delight. You will be more at home here, as you are happily possessed of a greater Relish for the humble, than the exalted Scenes of Life. Hence you will feel much Indulgence, I believe, in passing through my favourite Village,
Teddington.
I have now done with Dr.
Swift,
and shall, by way of Foil, send you the
Description of a Lady's Dressing-Room,
which is an Imitation (but far inferior) of the Doctor's Way of Writing; however you may, in some Measure, learn
what to avoid,
by reading it. There are many Things in that Part of
Ovid's Art of Love,
which Mr.
Congreve
has translated, worth noticing, in order to a Lady's making herself agreeable, besides the criminal Part. This latter ought to be carefully and judiciously distinguished (and you are very capable of doing it) from the truly-useful and allowable, nay commendable Precepts, which he lays down.
After sending you some few Reflections on
Swift
's Way of Writing, I will turn to
Horace
next. It is a great Pity that we have never yet had a good Translation of him; but so it is; and indeed he is so difficult to be rightly hit off, that I despair of ever seeing one.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your most faithful Friend, J. P.
P. S.
I am much pleased with your last Letter.
LETTER XCIV.
Oxon.
July
24, 1743.
My Dear,
I HAD the Pleasure of yours of the 22d instant. No Letters go from this on Saturday, so I could not answer you sooner.
If the Weather prove fair this Week, I suppose you will go to
Hampton Court,
where I think you had better stay a Night, that you may see every thing at Leisure. All the Places I wrote you of are in your Way. Let me scheme for you.
I would go by Water to
Hampton Court,
return the next Morning on Foot, (it is a pleasant Walk) through the Park, to
Teddington,
there take Water to
Ham House
and from that walk to
Richmond.
Now your Mama and you have got to so pleasant a Spot, methinks I would have you stay some Time. As I said before, it will improve your Health and Spirits. If you are come abroad with Finances too narrow for this, let me know, and I can give you a Draught on Mr. O—y. He is my Banker; all my Monies go through his Hands, so there is nothing improper or inconvenient in it.
I am much delighted with your delicate Reasons for declining my Offer of furnishing you with Books; but you are too nice. Any thing in my Power, my dear Nancy, that may contribute either to your Health or Pleasure, I think well bestowed, that is to say, while you are so deserving in every Respect. Perhaps I might do the same, were your Merit not quite equal to what it is, but not with the same good Will; and I know your Disposition would scorn to be obliged, when you thought you did not deserve the Obligation.
As I told you in my last, Mr. O—y, I am sure, will let you have any Book you desire. If you could find the Life of
Guzman d' Alfarache,
I think it would entertain you. I well remember, when I was young, it entertained me.
I expect to be called to
London
some Time next Month, but am not certain exactly when. You shall know before I set out. Now to what I proposed about Dr.
Swift.
Although
Swift
was a very nice Judge of Mankind, (I mean herein to include both Sexes) and consequently found many Things to censure, and might possibly, on that Account, have too great a Contempt for the Generality of the World, yet we must not thence conclude, that he was either a Man-Hater or a Woman-Hater. He wanted only to correct Vices; and though he launched into personal Satire against many partiticular Men, (who, I believe, deserved it at his Hands) yet I do not remember that he has been guilty of the same against the fair Sex.
In the next Place it may be observed, that he has perhaps painted his Characters
larger than the Life,
as the Painters phrase it; but this is often necessary, to make the deeper Impression, as Figures larger than the Life must be adopted sometimes in Painting and Statuary, for the very same Purpose, especially when placed at a great Distance. But whoever reads his Works attentively, will find that his Characters, though sometimes too strong, are nevertheless perfectly natural.
His Satire or Censure of your Sex has various Sources. It is sometimes drawn from Faults incident to the Sex in general; that is to say, Faults, or rather Weaknesses, which Women are more subject to than Men, and which may be said to arise from the Sex itself; for Example, Fear, Whims, and idle Fancies. These, you see, he wishes to eradicate from their Minds.
At other Times his Satire arises from Faults, to which your Mode of Education exposes you; namely, Affectation, Dissembling, Tittle-Tattle, amusing yourselves with Trifles of Dress, Colours, Shapes,
&c.
for which indeed you are not to be blamed yourselves, but the Persons are, who have had the Care of your Youth.
Some Faultinesses which he arraigns, are those that attend certain Times and Places, as Fashions; and I take the
Modern Lady
to be of this Sort. Others are what this or that particular Woman runs into, which arise out of Affectation or Vanity, and wear, at the same Time, the Semblance of Virtue. Such is the Character of
Artimesia.
Perhaps the Author had some particular Woman in his View when he drew this Character,
Phryne,
and
Sappho,
&c. so possibly had Mr.
Congreve,
when he drew
Doris
and
Amoret,
but then they take Care not to expose any one. Of all these, I think
Amoret
the nicest; because her Faults are hardly distinguishable from Virtue, and such as are most likely to impose not only on the World, but even on the Person who has them; and I do say, a Girl of good Sense and a virtuous Disposition, is not in so much Danger of becoming
Phryne
or
Doris,
or even
Artimesia
or
Sappho,
as she is of becoming an
Amoret.
The last Stanza of this little Poem, namely,
She likes herself, yet others hates,
For that which in herself she prizes,
And while she laughs at them, forgets▪
She is the Thing which she despises,
is the most judicious and most true Remark I ever read on the Sex, and yet the least noticed. By the bye, it may very often be applied to our Sex as well as yours, and with as much Propriety.
Thus you see the
Doctor
has shewn your Sex what they ought to shun, in some Poems, and what they ought to be, in others; namely, in his
Biddy Floyd, a Lady at Court, Stella,
Mrs.
B
——, &c.
Adieu, my dear. I shall write you soon some further Thoughts, perhaps to-morrow or next Day; but I am afraid I tire you.
I am, yours, J. P.
LETTER XCV.
Oxon.
July
27, 1743.
I Have not yet got Time to make a Copy of
The Dressing-Room
for you, but shall do it by the next Post-Day, and then to
Horace.
Besides what I mentioned in my last Letter relative to female Faults, there are some which proceed from the Condition of Life. Women, by their Constitution, by their Frame of Body and Mind, are more formed for Subjection, than Men are. Some People indeed have disputed this, but it has been rather to shew their Wit and Parts, than for any other Purpose, for the Fact is too evident to be denied. Allowing it to be so, there are then some Temptations which arise from the Condition of the Sex. A Desire of Rule, or perhaps of having their Will, which is as strong in many Women as in Men, naturally incites them to find out some crafty Methods to obtain it. By the Prerogative of our Sex, we go a shorter and more direct Way to work. Some masculine Women do the same, especially when they meet with soft, easy, womanish Men; but, for the most Part, it is otherwise. Women then, I say, who are desirous of Sway, are reduced to peculiar Contrivances to obtain it: they must apply to Art and Cunning, to wheedling or teazing, according to the Temper of the Persons they have to deal with. I do not mean to infer from this, that Women are by Nature more insincere, more cunning, flattering, or more affected than the Men, but that it is only the Condition, whereto the Disadvantage of their Sex reduces them, which is the Source and Origin of such indirect Practices. To confirm this, we may observe that Children, (Boys I mean) wilt do the self same Thing, to obtain what they want from their Parents; so will Servants, or any Inferiors, from their Masters and Superiors. But Women, who have humane and reasonable Husbands, and who are reasonable themselves, or are independent, (in either of which Cases the Condition is different from what I before described) are not chargeable with such Subtleties; I say, we do not see them make Use of any of these little, though too often necessary, Arts.
I fear I have tired you. I have dwelt too long on a Subject too grating to a female Ear; I shall therefore only observe, that some Faults flow from the Sex, (are
generical,
if I may so call them) more arise from Education, but most from their Condition or Station in Life.
I think it is Dr.
Swift
who will not allow that there is such a Thing as masculine and feminine Virtues. What is Virtue in a Man, is so in a Woman, says he. I will not dispute that Opinion, but I believe I may affirm, that there are Virtues, as well as Vices, in general, more strongly implanted in the one Sex, than in the other; as for Example, Fear, Tenderness, Compassion, &c. in Women, and Intrepidity, Roughness, Hardiness,
&c.
in Men. There are moreover some Faults and Frailties pardonable in the one Sex, which are abominable in the other.
A young Fellow who rambles about, and runs Riot, is easily forgiven; if a young Woman should do so, she is gone at once. As
Rowe
says,
She sets, like Stars that fall, to rise no more.
I do not presume to say but that the World is rather unjust to be so indulgent on the one Hand, and so severe on the other; but that is no Kind of Alleviation to the young Woman who exposes herself to such Danger.
There are some Instances on the other Hand. If a Woman is frighted at Trifles or Shadows, she is compassionated; a Man so circumstanced, would be ridiculed. If Women put on affected Airs, or are over-solicitous about their Dress and Appearance, at worst they are despised perhaps only pitied; but let a Ma
be guilty of such Things, he is detested.
These Hints, my dear, were occasioned by the Poems I sent you. Yo
may pursue them to a greater Length, and they may serve as useful Warning
to shew you where your Danger lies an
preserve you from falling into it. To know where we are most weak, is one Step towards our Security. Every young Person, especially a Female, coming into Life, should nicely observe the Distinction between the Virtues and Vices of both Sexes, and be able to ascertain the respective Conduct necessary to be pursued.
The Post is just come in, but I have nothing from you. I hope you are well. My next Letter shall be on a quite different Subject.
Je suis, ma chere Nannette, très sincerement,
le votre, J. P.
LETTER XCVI.
Oxon.
July
29, 1743,
JUST now, my dear, I have the Pleasure of yours of the 27th, and thank you for it. I do not call this an Answer, but barely an Acknowledgment; for I am obliged to defer sending you the Copy of Verses I promised, and writing what I proposed, being compelled to go out of Town for some few Days; but do not let that hinder your writing to me, for your Letters will be sent to me, and I can answer them from the Country.
I wonder you have so long put off going to
Hampton Court.
You should have seized your first good Weather for that; that is, if your Mama did not disapprove it; but if she found herself inclined to rest at
Richmond,
I make no Doubt but your warmest Desires for Pleasure would be submitted to her Ease. No Duty is so graceful as that which is paid to a Parent, and it should be continued through Life; the first to be taken up, the last to be laid aside.
When you return to
London,
I will endeavour to get you a little Hoard of Franks; but, in the mean Time, write on, and give me Pleasure. My Retirement will be improved, as my Hours of Business are relieved, by our Correspondence.
My Service to your Mama.
I am,
my dear,
ever yours, J. P.
LETTER XCVII.
Oxon.
Aug.
21, 1743.
AT my Return to this Place, my dear Nancy, I received yours of the 13th of July, and yesterday I had another of the 5th instant. I cannot account for the Letter having been five Days on the Road.
Your being taken sick upon your Tour must be both a Disappointment and Inconvenience. I hope however your Disorder will not increase. If it should, and you are unable to write, beg your Mama to favour me with a Line, as you may reasonably suppose I shall otherwise be kept in a very uneasy Suspence.
Suffer me here to trouble you with a little Caution, which however I cannot think you stand in Need of. There is an idle Custom, wherein too many of your Sex indulge themselves, which ought to be carefully guarded against; I mean that of complaining for Trifles, and endeavouring to impose a flight Indisposition for a material Illness. Some Ladies who follow this Practice, perhaps would never dream of doing it of their own Accords, but they have seen the Affectation in others, and fancied it became them; thus they are guilty of that through Imitation, which they would never have been through Principle. Such Persons draw on themselves one Inconvenience at least, namely, that of not being credited, when they are really ill.
To divert you, I will quote a Passage out of
Horace,
somewhat similar to this. I own the Translation to be very indifferent, but the Sense is excellent.
A small Retainer in a great Man's Train,
Who still is asking, and doth still complain,
I want a good Surtout—'tis very cold—
My Trunk is rifled, and I've lost my Gold,
Does like those cheating Punks, who often mourn,
I've lost my little Dog—my Gown is torn—
Until, at last, unheeding the Complaint,
We give no Credit to their real Want.
One that has often been abus'd, grows shy,
He views a Beggar with a heedless Eye,
No Charity bestows, altho' he swears,
By Heav'n,
(and softens ev'ry Oath with Tears)
Believe me, I'm in Want—
and sadly cries,
O cruel! help the poor!—
The Croud replies,
A d'autres, Friend—we know you and your Lies.
I wish there were a good Translation of
Horace,
for your Sake, but it is what I despair of ever seeing: however, I would have you acquainted with him even in such Translation as we have. I will get you the best I can very soon. He is a Treasure that you would be glad to be possessed of; and though you may relish him but indifferently, as he is given in our Language, yet it is better than not to be acquainted with him at all.
I do not know how long it may be before I see
London.
If you are willing therefore, we will supply the Absence as usual, by Letter, and perhaps to better Advantage than if we were together.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
P. S.
Since writing the above, I have a Letter from Mr. K—, and one from you, about the Parcel of Snuff you have been so good to send me. I thank you very kindly. Such little Remembrances are endearing, and sometimes more so than material Services; since the latter are generally called out by some occasional Claim of Exigency, whereas the former are the Result of a constant Attention and Inclination to oblige. The
Portuguese
have a pretty Adage, or Proverb, to this Purpose, which means,
Civility costs little, and gains much.
You ask about the unhappy Accident, mentioned in the News-Papers. You perceive, by this, that the Disaster did not befal me. It is true, the poor Servant was drowned, by the Boat oversetting. Mr. L— was got out, without any Damage. I was not in the Boat. I have neither mentioned it in writing, nor talked of it to any one, when I could avoid it. Such Events, I think, are painful to the Hearer as well as the Speaker; for this Reason, I did not hint it to Mr. K—.
A great Concourse of Company is to be at our Races this Week. This Hall will be crouded. The Duke of
Hamilton,
Earl of
Orrery,
and his Son, Lord
Boyle,
will lye here; a Brother of Mr. L— from the
Indies,
and many more Gentlemen.
Give my hearty Service to your Mama and Aunt; thank them for their kind Concern about me, and write me when you think fitting.
I am, again and again, your affectionate Friend, J. P.
LETTER XCVIII.
Oxon.
Aug.
25, 1743.
My Dear,
I Have yours of the 23d, for which I am much obliged, since it brings me News of your Amendment. It may appear odd to say, I am now very glad to be informed that you have been
veritablement malade
; as I would rather that a Person, for whom I entertain such a high Esteem, as I do for you, should be lost to Health, than lost to Truth. In such a Case as ours, however, I know the Generality of the World would not call it a Falshood, only an Equivocation; but surely, instead of mending the Matter, this is only making it worse; the Fault is the same, with the Aggravation of Meanness. We see frequent Instances hereof in the common Occurrences of Life, and People are either insensible, or regardless of them. But call the Transgression what by Name you will, still it is such as I thought you incapable of, and am pleased to be confirmed in my Opinion; though by your calling my Quotation from
Horace
a bitter Pill, you certainly strained it to a Meaning I did not intend you should. I had some Suspicion of this when I wrote it. However, I chose to leave it for you to comment on, and for myself to defend afterwards, which I thus do.
Every Fable has, or may have, a general, as well as a particular Application. Our Story shews the Danger of People using false Pretences, on various Occasions, and thereby running a Risque of not being believed, when they speak truth. This is the general Moral or Application. The particular Moral is specified in the kept Woman losing her Credit with her Friend, by pretending eternal Wants and Losses; a Hanger-on with his Retainer; and a Beggar with the Passenger. Now you chose to introduce a particular Application to your own Illness, which I thought I had guarded against in my Premisal to the Quotation. It seems you did not think so, and there was no Harm in it; it was but the natural Result of a strong and a nice Feeling; and, were it an Error, I would readily take it on myself, being, as I am, the Source of it; and again assure you I meant only to amuse, not to reproach you.
I have bought
Horace
for you; but the Translation being very indifferent, many Allusions made to Roman Customs, and Roman Names of People and Places introduced, I fear it will read very heavily. You would nevertheless find it worth your while to put up with the former, and be at some extraordinary Pains to make yourself acquainted with the others, for the Sake of the prudent Sayings, Advices, Maxims, and Reflections, wherewith the Author abounds. In short, you must, for once, be contented with the
utile
without the
dulce,
for the latter is all left behind with the Original. It will somewhat resemble a wholesome Pill, without any Gilding.
There is another Author I want to make you acquainted with, and that is
Longinus on the Sublime.
I will get one for you, and send it with
Horace.
Observe, my dear, while I am recommending these to you, I have no Design to induce you to set up for a Critic, or a female Pedant, only to enable you to know the Extent of your own Judgment, and how to correct and regulate it to your Profit and Pleasure. For this Purpose merely it is that I wish to make you acquainted with some of the best Writers of Antiquity, who accurately distinguish between Sense and Non-sense, true and false Wit, Humour and Farce, Sublime and Bombast, a noble Flight and a Rant, a graceful Complaint and an unbecoming Whining.
The melancholy Accident, which you enquire about, happened in the following Manner.
We were at a Treat which a new Comer to the Hall gives to the other Students. It was at the celebrated Place, called God-stow where
Fair Rosamond,
the Favourite of Henry II. was buried. A Branch of the Isis runs there, which at
London
is called the
Thames.
There is a Bridge of two Arches; the one was stopped up, in order to catch Fish there, so the whole Stream was thrown into the other. Mr. L— had taken his Servant into his Boat, and was endeavouring to push through the Arch, which he had, at other Times, done without Difficulty; but, on this Occasion, the Impetuosity of the Current suddenly drove the Boat back with great Violence; Mr. L— stumbling against his Servant, they were both thrown forcibly on the Edge of the Boat, and occasioned it to be so far overbalanced, as to be filled with Water. Apprehensive that the Boat would immediately sink, Mr. L— jumped out, and was taken up without the least Harm; but the Servant, staying longer by the Boat, was drove further from the Bank, and being unable to swim, he unfortunately sunk, before the Boat, which took up his Master, could reach him. They once or twice got a Pole under him, but could not save him. I did not see the first Part of the Misfortune, for I was not come out from Dinner, but arrived Time enough to see Mr. L— taken up, and the poor Man lost.
I have gratified your Curiosity, but you need not tell the Story out of your Family. There is something very shocking in the Idea of a poor Creature being snatched thus from Life, in an Instant, and, as
Shakespeare
says,
With all his Imperfections on his Head,
and Calamities like these should serve as a Warning to us all, to lead such Lives, as might best enable us to meet such. Deaths, if called on.
Adieu,
my dear,
I am always yours, J. P.
LETTER XCIX.
Oxon.
Aug.
28, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Have just now received yours of the 26th. Some Mistakes have happened between us about Dates, which we cannot easily settle, I find, and some Miscarriages in the Post, which we cannot repair; therefore I do not hold it worth our while to enter into a Discussion about them. Time ill-employed is worse than Time unemployed, and the last is bad enough in all Conscience.
The entire Occasion of my writing just now is to tell you that I go into the Country, to
Tew,
to-morrow early, and shall not return for two or three Days. When I do, I shall send you
Horace
and
Longinus.
You are probably thinking of their Arrival now; I therefore hold it necessary to make an Apology for not gratifying the Expectation I have raised. It is, in some Degree, like not paying a Debt which we have voluntarily contracted.
You promised to read those Books in the Holy Scriptures, and the
Apocrypha,
which I recommended, and to let me have your Thoughts of them. Why do you not so employ yourself now, and write your Thoughts at your Leisure? When you get
Horace
and
Longinus,
there will be a new Subject of Correspondence. But I do not desire to hurry you. Write, when you find the Spirit of writing upon you, that is, when you find yourself best inclined to it.
Adieu,
my dear Nancy,
J. P.
LETTER C.
Oxon,
Sept.
4, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
JUST now I have the Pleasure of yours. I have been hurried ever since I wrote you last. I am this Evening returned to Town, and must leave it again early to-morrow Morning.
My present Business occasions a second Disappointment in the Books I promised. They cannot come till I return; but, believe me, you should not wait so long for them, if it were in my Power to prevent it. I have known People who made a Point of baulking young Folks of Presents and Enjoyments that had been promised them, from a prudent Design (as they termed it) of inuring them early to Disappointments. I hold it the most dangerous Way of proceeding in the World. Beside that it will never answer the End proposed (for it will be much more likely the Temper should be hurt than improved by it) it is practising Cunning and low Artifice with them; setting them a bad Example; for as soon as they are old enough to discover the Means you use, they will be induced to practise the same with you, and endeavour to counteract one Craft by another. Hence they are early seduced from the first great Principle of Goodness, Truth, and by Degrees all that is open and ingenuous in the Mind may be quenched, ere they know the Value of it.
If I return on Tuesday, your Books shall be sent on Wednesday; if I do not, you cannot have them till Friday. Wait with Patience till then, and I think you need not wait longer. I believe
Longinus
will give you great Satisfaction. Our Correspondence about Books, and Observations on them, has been long interrupted. I care not now how soon it is resumed; but it shall be at your own Choice. I will not hurry you.
I have one Letter more to write about Dr.
Swift
's Genius, and then I have entirely done with that Subject. I promised, 'tis true, to let you have what
Horace
ays of the
Iliad
and
Odyssey,
but as I am
o send you the Book itself, that Promise
s superseded.
I wish, for your Sake, that the Translation were better, or that you understood the Original; I will however assist you as far as I am able, and, in my next Letter, point out some Places, to which I would have you particularly attend.
I am,
my dear Angel,
your true Friend, and Well-wisher, J. P.
LETTER CI.
Oxon.
Sept.
8, 1743.
THREE Lines to inform my dearest
Nancy
that I am just returned from
Tew
with Dr.
King
; where I have staid, at least, one Day longer than I expected. I am just Time enough to keep my last Promise. You may send to the Black Bull in Holborn, at the Time I mentioned, and the Messenger will find a little Box addressed to you, containing my Promise, and an Author or two over and above, by way of Interest, for the Principal having been so long due.
I want to read
Longinus
myself, and to compare it and the Notes with another Edition which I had designed for you, but I would not longer delay. I have, I think, sent you the best. I have no more to say at present, only that I wish to hear from you; but that at your Leisure.
We shall now begin to correspond in earnest again. This Interval of Relaxation may have its Use. We shall return to more intense Studies with greater Spirit.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CII.
Oxon.
Sept.
11, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
YOU have now received the Books.
Longinus
is a most admirable Author, but he will require a deep Attention in reading. I advise you to observe the Notes as you go along; not leave them till last. When you have made yourself Mistress of them, read the Book through again. This will give you a very competent Knowledge of him, and your Pleasure will be increased in Proportion. A real good Author, you know, like a real good. Man, improves on our Acquaintance. Your own Judgment will suggest to you the most useful and remarkable Places; however, I recommend the 8th, 14th, 17th, 34th, and the two last Chapters. You will give me your Opinion of the whole, in due Time. When you enter upon
Horace,
you must make great Allowance for the Stile, the Measure of his Verse, and yet more for the weak Expression in which the original Sense and Meaning is given.
This Minute yours of the 9th. Never delay writing, because Franks are wanting. I hold such a Consideration unworthy to be put in Balance with a Letter from a Friend. Postage is cheap enough; and your Correspondence is dear to me.
I cannot say when I am to be in
London.
You will have another little Parcel soon, containing some Buckles and other Necessaries, which Mr. K— desired me to procure for him. Please to send them to him, and he will remit the Price; I have advised him what the Amount is. Do me the Favour to accept it, for the Improvement of your little Library. Make such Purchases as Fancy dictates; I will not direct or controul your Choice.
I am concerned for your Mama's Indisposition. I beg to hear about her soon, but desire nothing more from you. I would not be the Means of employing a Minute of your Time now, which is so essentially necessary to your Care and Attention to her.
I have little Leisure at present; my next shall be longer. When you can return to our usual Custom, why may you not write me in French now and then? The
Archbishop of Cambray's Dialogues des Morts,
&c. are excellent; composed of very fine, easy, and familiar French. They deserve to be read often.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CIII.
Oxon.
Sept.
16, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Have the Pleasure of yours of the 13th, and am glad to hear you got the Things safe, and that your good Mama is better. You have one of the greatest Comforts and Blessings of this Life, a good Parent; and indeed you are one of the few young Folks who deserve the Blessing, in-as-much as you are sensible of it, and, by your Conduct towards her, prove you are grateful for it. May it be long continued to you!
I hold myself indebted to you for your ready Acceptance of my little Present; it was the most pleasant and grateful Return you could make me. There is a Delicacy necessary in accepting, as well as conferring a Kindness, which is nicely explained by our
Shakespear.
He makes
Othello
say to
Iago,
(who has sworn to devote himself to his Service)
I greet thy Love
Net with vain Thanks, but with Acceptance bounteous.
This Phrase,
bounteous Acceptance,
is liberal beyond defining; it can only be
felt.
What is usually called
Taste,
consists entirely in
Feeling
; and I am not clear that the latter Expression would not be the most proper.
I have no Doubt but you will soon get through
Longinus,
and all the Notes. I know your Expedition, therefore wish you to attack him a second Time, before you transmit me your Opinion. Let me likewise have your Thoughts on
Horace,
the Scriptures, and the Apocrypha, as you go on with them. I shall soon give my additional Letter of Observations on
Swift
's Mode of writing.
There is a little Publication, called
Dialogues sur l' Eloquence en general, et sur celle de la Chair en particulier, avec une Lettre ecrite à l' Academie Francoise,
by the
Archbishop of Cambray.
It is a most excellent little Book, and I wish you would endeavour to get it. The Bookseller in
Clare-Court,
I dare say, will find it for you. Read it with the closest Attention; it deserves you should, for it will assist you in a right Way of thinking and and judging.
The Duke of
Hamilton
is, or was lately, at
Stockbridge
in
Hampshire.
I hope he will be soon in
London.
But why do you ask?
The Translations you speak of may more properly be called Imitations than Translations; and you will certainly find more Beauty in them, than in
Creech,
though they do not follow the Original so close. I think therefore
Creech
should be your first Object, by way of grounding yourself in the original Meaning of
Horace,
then turn to what you please; in particular, to
Pope
's Imitations of some of his Epistles and Satires; they will charm you.
I hope to hear soon, and am,
my dear Scholar,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CIV.
Oxon.
Sept.
19, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
ON Saturday last I sent you a Letter by Dr.
King
's Servant, which I hope you have received safe.
For these three Months past, I have employed my spare Hours in reading such Authors as have wrote on Poetry; for Example,
Horace, Boileau's and Vida's Art of Poetry, Pope's Essay on Criticism, the Duke of Buckingham's Essay on Poetry, and Lord Roscommon's Essay on translated Verse.
I have also been at the Pains to make Abstracts from them all, and this for two Reasons; first, to make the deeper Impression on my Mind, secondly, to have them to recur to, on Occasion.
As I said once before, I would not have you set up for a Critic; but as Nature has implanted in you a Love and Taste for reading, I could wish you, at this Leisure-Time of your Life, to acquire as right a Judgment as you can of what you read, and be able to converse upon it. But your own Discretion must be your Monitor, not to let these Studies engage your Time and Attention, to the Neglect of such domestic Qualifications, as your Sex and Situation may hereafter demand.
I have sent you a loose Abstract of the Duke of
Buckingham's Essay,
and, if you desire them, will furnish you with Abstracts of the rest. This may, at first View, appear an useless Trouble to one who has the Originals at Hand, but, in Fact, is not so; it may be of the same Use to you, that it was to me; and you will still have a much stronger Impression of any Rule or Passage, by writing your Remarks to me, or adding what is defective to mine; for, as I did them hastily, no Doubt, many Things want to be corrected.
Shall I give you a short Character of the Authors I have named?
Horace
is always allowed the first Place. Notwithstanding he slides over Things in a short, easy, careless Way, scarce seeming to observe any Order, yet he requires a great deal of Attention.
Roscommon
's Translation of him is good, though
Oldham
's loose Manner gives us most Pleasure. This Author has also been translated by
Ben Jonson
and several others.
Vida
stands next. He does not meddle with the different Kinds of Poetry, only with Poetry in general, and chiefly applies what he says to the
Epic.
He is more full, regular, and methodical, than any of them. He points out how a Youth of Genius should be trained in the Art of Poetry; and treats of many Things, which none of the others, whom I have named, have touched upon; all in such excellent Verse, and so suited to the Nature of his Subjects, that the Sound is in Reality "an Echo to the Sense." The Original is in Latin. I am not certain whether he has been translated, but will enquire; if he has, I will get him for you; but, at all Events, you must compound for the Loss of his genuine Beauty.
Boileau
is very judicious; he takes in all Kinds of Poetry, and borrows a great deal from
Horace,
but is more methodical.
Pope's Essay on Criticism
is a consummate Piece; but it is so concise, that, like
Horace,
he demands close Attention. He borrows much from the three before-mentioned.
Roscommon
and the Duke of
Buckingham
are much shorter. They omit many Things which the others mention, but what they have written is finely executed. The Duke of
Buckingham
insists most on Dramatic Writing. What he has said, though imperfect, is very judicious, and his Lines are masterly.
On the whole, I have one Piece of Advice for you; namely, that you would particularly observe what they have in common with each other. By this Means you will be nearest to the right.
No more, till I hear from you, which I hope will be soon; but pray do not write, when you are in a Hurry.
I am,
my dear,
always yours, J. P.
LETTER CV.
Oxon.
Sept.
22, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Have, on the other Leaf of this Letter, sent you an Abstract of
Lord Roscommon's Essay on translated Verse.
If you will let the Abstract lye by you, while you go through the Work itself, it will assist you to distinguish one Rule from another, and implant them still deeper in your Mind.
This Author will particularly define
Tragedy
and
Comedy,
and enable you to form a proper Judgment of them.
I need not observe to you that the first general Qualification necessary in all Kinds of Writing is good Sense. The peculiar Ingredients requisite for Tragedy are Terror and Pity, those for Comedy are Wit and Humour.
Corneille
thought to bring a fourth into Tragedy, namely, Admiration; but it is not by any Means so essential as the former. It will sometimes have its Effect, and act very agreeably on the Mind, but Terror and Pity always have been, and always will be, allowed the main Ingredients.
In like Manner, Wit and Humour are necessary to Comedy. The Preference between these is generally given to Humour, and I think very justly. If Humour is that peculiar Mode of thinking, and of saying and doing Things, which some Persons possess, and are thereby distinguished from all others, then it must be the chief Ingredient in Comedy. Most People are endued with this Talent in a greater or less Degree; and it is not uncommon to see the Happiness or Unhappiness of Life depend on this peculiar Cast of Mind and of Behaviour.
Congreve
has an excellent Letter on Humour in Comedy. Pray read it.
Wit assuredly claims only the second Place. Complaints have been made of too much Wit in some of our Comedy-Writers, in
Congreve,
for Instance. If any one merits the Charge, he must be the Man; but I am afraid it is generally rather false Wit, or something mistaken for Wit, which is complained of. There are very few Authors, however, who can be arraigned of this Fault; though I have heard
Terence
and
Wycherley
in the List with
Congreve.
True Wit is hard to be defined. Some call it merely a Propriety of Thoughts and Words; but I think it rather is good Sense well expressed. Others term it an Assemblage of Ideas of very distinct and different Nature, yet capable of being solved into an agreeable and unexpected Likeness.
Congreve
's Comparison of Religion and Politics to Oil and Vinegar, is an Instance in Point. But I think this rather a Species, than a Definition of Wit. In my Opinion, Wit consists in an ingenious Thought, cloathed in good Phrase, expressed with Liveliness, and creative of Pleasure and Mirth
An ingenious and pleasant Friend of mine makes Translation the Test of Wit. Will it, says he, still continue Wit, if rendered into another Language? If it will, it is truly Wit—if not, it is only Humour.
. If so, it is an Essential to Comedy. It recommends and enforces our Sentiments, which, howsoever just or important they may be, would otherwise too frequently, make very slight Impressions. Let us however not forget that it is a dangerous Weapon in the Hands of a Fool, or a vicious Person; for false Sentiments and
ad Doctrine, thus seasoned, might too generally prevail, and mislead Persons of very right Dispositions. More in my next.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
P. S.
In reading the annexed Abstract,
ou are to observe that many of the Author's Rules and Observations will serve
or Poetry in general, as well as for
anslated Verse, as will those of Mr.
Pope
either for Poetry or Criticism. Lord
Roscommon
has had
Horace, Boileau,
and
Vida,
in his Eye, but principally
Vida
;
Immortal Vida, on whose honour'd Brow,
The Poet's Bays, and Critick's Ivy grow.
POPE,
LETTER CVI.
Oxon.
Sept.
25, 1743.
A Comedy with too much Wit in it has been compared to a Suit of Cloaths, so richly embroidered, as to prevent the Ground-Work being seen. I think however it is oftner Tinsel, than Sterling, of which we complain.
It has been objected to
Congreve,
that his very Servants and low Characters are witty. Why should they not be so? Have we not seen such in real Life, especially those who have acquired a little better Sort of Education;
Jeremy
in his
Love for Love
is described to have waited on a Gentleman at
Cambridge
; is there any Wonder such a Servant should be witty; or such as are bred in or near
London,
or in the Neighbourhood of the Court? I do not see why they may not be as witty as their Betters, as they often are.
He is again charged with having written bad English. He does so sometimes, but puts it in the Mouth of a low Character. He must be a weak Observer indeed, who cannot distinguish between the Character and the Author.
Mr.
Pope
himself objects that Congreve's Fools are not Fools;
How seldom do the best succeed!
Tell me if Congreve's Fools are Fools indeed.
In my humble Opinion, Mr.
Pope
should have considered that
Congreve
had declared, and justly, against bringing errant Fools on the Stage, that is, such as are created so. Why, for what End bring Persons there, who ought rather to be pitied than exposed? We might as justifiably reduce deaf or dumb People to Ridicule, as such Fools as these. Lord
Rochester
has an excellent Observation on this Head; he says, the Folly which deserves to be exposed, is procured
— — by Expence of Time and Thought,
God never made a Coxcomb worth a Groat,
meaning to imply that Coxcombry must proceed from Vanity, Pride, Affectation, or a wrong Taste,
Congreve
complains that his
Witwou'd,
in the
Way of the World,
was mistaken by the Town for a
True-Wit.
The Error was wholly theirs. His Judgment was too nice to suffer him to draw gross Fools: his were of a refined Cast, and were Men, who had the Appearance, at least, of something like Men of Sense. Of this Sort are
Tattle, Petulant, Witwou'd,
and
Brisk;
though they are Fools enough at the Bottom; but nevertheless are such to whom we should rather give the Appellation of Fops or Coxcombs.
The Objection to
Congreve,
that his Fools are not Fools enough, is not half so bad as if they had been too much so. Surely the Town would not have wished him to have brought either an Ideot or a Lunatick on the Stage. He has indeed brought a Counterfeit-Madman there, and
Ben Johnson
a real Madman, (in his Comedy of
Bartholomew Fair)
but not with an Intent to expose either the one or the other. If we consider the Conduct of the Persons I have named, from their first Entrance to the Time they leave the Stage, we shall find them Fools enough in all Conscience.
Petulant
and
Witwou'd,
for Example, can seldom be asunder; they speak ill of one another, when apart; they play at Snip Snap, and a rude Sort of bantering one another in Company, and even before Strangers. They affect a strange Sort of Cant; there is a kind of Pertness in all they say; their Repartee is lively, but silly and unmannerly; they get drunk, and come in that Pickle before their Mistress; they fall into an absurd Fit of wrangling, in which they both speak rank Nonsense; they set up for being very severe upon the Ladies; they give up their Pretensions to
Millamant
with as little Reason as they formed them; in a Word, they are a Couple of Coxcombs, approaching towards Wit and Breeding, but in Truth having neither. Instead of good Sense, polite Wit, and genteel Repartee, they have a sort of rude Briskness, and
run the Rig,
as the young Templars, and spruce Wits, call this Sort of joking.
This has diverted me from what I was going to say about Wit. I will defer it till my next.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your affectionate Friend, J. P.
P. S.
Your Letter is just now arrived, but I have no Time to answer it till to-morrow.
LETTER CVII.
oxon.
Sept.
28, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Thought to have pursued the Subject of my last Letter two Days ago, but had not Time. I now proceed to enquire what Wit is, and when it may be used with Propriety.
Though I cannot give you a perfect Definition of Wit, (which perhaps is not to be done, the Word being so variously applied) yet I think we may define in what Shape it generally appears. In the first Place, Wit, in my Opinion, is good Sense; or, at least, it is founded in good Sense, although there is something more necessary to constitute it; for Example, Jocoseness, Sprightliness, Ridicule; but above all, Aptness. The Time and Manner of applying it makes great Part of the Merit.
A good Pun passes for Wit, with some Folks, but I fear it is no Way allied to it. A wild Expression carries the same Appearance with others, but if there be not something ingenious in it as well as wild, I doubt it will never deserve the Name of Wit.
Wit appears often in a smart Repartee, if made off-Hand; Impromptu's, as the French call them. These are very entertaining, provided a fair Occasion offers, and the Person, who gives that Occasion, deserves the Smart. The Conversation between
Millamant
and
Marwood,
in
the Way of the World,
is a lively Instance hereof. The former retorts on the latter with Abundance of Wit, Humour, and Satire.
I will give you one Instance in a little Story where the Repartee was lively, and severe, and deserved, and immediately took its Rise from what had been said.
The famous
Judge Jefferies
was notable at confounding and brow-beating Witnesses, as they call it, especially when their Testimonies were not agreeable to him. An old reverend Man, with a great Beard, was giving Evidence before him, when
Jefferies,
in Hope to put him out of Countenance, said,
If that Fellow's Conscience is as large as his Beard, he may swear what he pleases.
The Witness, taking hold of his Beard, gravely replied,
Nay, my Lord, if you measure Consciences by Beards, your Lordship has none at all.
Thus introduced, Repartee surely merits to be called Wit, and is not only an agreeable, but an useful Talent; but when it is exercised against good-natured, inoffensive People, or such as are in Want or Affliction, it becomes detestable, and rather deserves the Name of Cruelty. It is indeed as unmanly and cowardly in these Cases, as it would be to assail with Violence one who had not a Weapon to defend himself, or if he had, who possessed neither Strength or Spirits to make Use of it. And yet many such witty Fools are to be found, who chuse to display their Talents on any Subject, rather than lose an Opportunity of shewing them
Dr.
Young,
in his
Love of Fame,
displays an honest Indignation, at this cruel Use of Wit, with great Energy—
Who, for the poor Renown of being smart,
Would leave a Sting within a Brother's Heart?
. One Comfort is, that they often feel the ill Effects themselves; for Wit, improperly placed, is as apt to injure the Possessor, as a Gun, by recoiling, to bruise an injudicious Shooter. Shall I illustrate this by another little Anecdote?
A certain noble Roman was standing for one of their highest Offices; the Consulship, I believe. The Election being popular, the Candidates were obliged to court the Freemen, as is practised in our Country at every Election for a Seat in Parliament. All the Voters were caressed. This Noble was shaking Hands with a poor labouring Man, and perceiving them to be very hard, "Friend," quoth he, with a Sneer, "dost thou walk upon thy Hands?" The Man took the Witticism in Dudgeon, and had Resentment and Interest enough to make the Noble lose his Election.
The famous Sir
Thomas Sydenham,
who was an extraordinary great Man in his Way, had so indifferent an Opinion of Wit, that he used to say, "There was almost as great a Difference between Wisdom and Wit, as between Something and Nothing." Yet I cannot agree with him. Wit, properly managed and tempered, may be rendered (as I said before) an agreeable and useful Quality. We should only take Care not to let it get the better of good Sense, good Nature, good Humour, or good Manners.
I am about to send you a Book, which contains the Duke of
Buckingham
's and Lord
Roscommon
's Poems, and the Archbishop of
Cambray
's Reflections on Eloquence.
Boileau
's Art of Poetry, a Translation from
Vida,
and the Abstracts you desire shall accompany them. Herewith you receive a Portion of
Pope
's Essay on Criticism, but I wish you may be able to read it. It was written in a Hurry, and I have not present Leisure to transcribe it afresh.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
P. S.
I shall write again to-morrow, or Sunday, at farthest.
LETTER CVIII.
Oxon.
Sept.
30, 1743.
WIT deals occasionally in various Figures of Speech, for Example, in Metonymy and Metaphor. As you have now read
Longinus,
I need not explain those Figures here.
He had Wit, who first called
useless Learning, learned Lumber.
A very learned Man has been termed a Magazine of Learning; but if that Learning be confused and indigested, they aptly say, his Head is a Lumber-House of Learning.
Religious Enthusiasts pretend to, what they call,
inward Light,
as a Warrant to their Belief and Actions; whence
Hudibras
says, with great Wit,
'Tis a dark Lanthorn of the Spirit,
Which none see by, but those that bear it;
intimating that their pretended Light, if it were useful at all, was not so to any but themselves.
But Wit deals most in Similies; that is, in drawing Likenesses between Things of a different Nature; and the more surprizing and unexpected those Likenesses are, and by how far the Things compared differ in their Kinds, by so much more is the Wit prized. There is one of this Kind in
Hudibras,
which has been much admired, and often quoted. Speaking of People, who are truly loyal, even in Disgrace and Affliction, he says,
For Loyalty is still the same,
Whether it win, or lose the Game,
True as the Dial to the Sun,
Altho' it be not shin'd upon.
It is in Similies chiefly that most of our Poets, who deal in Wit, or pretend to it, have run Riot. What a Flood of them do we sometimes meet in Dramatic, and other Writers, introduced and pursued, without Rhyme or Reason! Every thing talked of is "like this," or "like that." Except a Simile be exceedingly well hit off, it had better be unattempted. Metonymy and Metaphor (which are indeed but concealed Similies) are, in my Opinion, an easier and genteeler Conveyance of our Ideas.
There is an admirable Sneer on these Strings of Similies, which some Authors are so fond of, in
Swift
's Introduction to
The Tale of a Tub.
"Wisdom," says that admirable Writer,
is a Fox, who, after long hunting, will, at last, cost you the Pains to dig out. It is a Cheese, which, by how much the richer, has the thicker, the homelier and the coarser Coat; and whereof, to a judicious Palate, the Meggots are the best. It is a Sack-Posset, wherein the deeper you go, you will find it the sweeter. Wisdom is a Hen, whose Cackling we must value and consider, because it is attended with an Egg. But then, lastly, it is a Nut, which, unless you chuse with Judgment, may cost you a Tooth, and pay you with nothing but a Worm.
Had
Swift
been in earnest in these Similies, he would, at best, have appeared whimsically ridiculous; but, in-as-much as he meant them a Satire on Simile-Mongers in general, he is most unquestionably witty; and the whole Air and Turn of the Introduction being facetious, nothing could be better suited to the Character of the Writer.
An Author should therefore well confider, in whose Mouth to put his Similies. That will do well for one Person, which will, by no Means, suit another. I suppose
Congreve
's Comparison of Religion and Politics to Oil and Vinegar, to be as witty as ever was said on any Occasion; yet because there is something wild in it, he has properly put it into the Mouth of a Madman, at least, a Character that appears so.
In the same Comedy,
Jeremy
contrives to beguile
Tattle
and Mrs.
Frail
into a Match with each other, when each was on the Hunt for a Fortune elsewhere.
Ben,
a rough Sailor, compares them hereon to a Couple of Privateers, who were looking out for a Prize, and fell foul of each other. This is admirably humorous and witty in itself, but derives double Beauty and Force from the Sailor's speaking it.
I shall conclude this Letter with a Transcript from the famous Mr.
Locke,
where he treats of the Difference between Wit and Judgment.
"If in having our Ideas in the Memory, ready at Hand, consists Quickness of Parts, in this of having them unconfused, and being able nicely to distinguish one Thing from another, where there is but the least Difference, consists, in a great Measure, the Exactness of Judgment and Clearness of Reason, which is to be observed in one Man, above another. And, perhaps, hence may be given some Reason of that common Observation, that Men, who have a great deal of Wit and prompt Memories, have not always the clearest Judgment or deepest Reason. For
Wit
lies most in the
Assemblage of Ideas
; and putting these together with Quickness and Variety, wherein can be found any Resemblance and Congruity, thereby to make up pleasant Pictures and agreeable Visions in the Fancy.
Judgment,
on the contrary, lies quite on the other Side, in separating carefully, one from another, Ideas, wherein can be found the least Difference, thereby to avoid being misled by Similitude, and by Affinity to take one Thing for another.
"This is a Way of proceeding quite contrary to Metaphor and Allusion; wherein, for the most Part, lies that Entertainment and Pleasantry of
Wit,
which strikes so lively on the Fancy, and therefore so acceptable to all People, because its Beauty appears at first Sight, and there is required no Labour of Thought to examine what Truth or Reason there is in it. The Mind, without looking any further, rests satisfied with the Agreeableness of the Picture, and the Gaiety of the Fancy; and it is a kind of Affront to go about to examine it by the severe Rules of Truth and good Reason; whereby it appears that it consists in something that is not perfectly conformable to them."
I would have you, my dear Nancy, consider attentively this Distinction between Wit and Judgment. It is the best philosophical Account of them that ever I met; though perhaps this Definition does not reach to Wit in its utmost Extent, at least, in the Sense of the Word, as used at present, and thence comes it so hard to be defined or described. Mr.
Locke
himself seems indeed somewhat sensible of this, for he, you perceive, always speaks with a sort of Exception and Doubt, as,
in a great Measure—perhaps —for the most part,
&c. &c.
I believe I shall have something more for you on this Subject the next Time I write, and then I shall quit it.
I have bespoke
Vida
for you in English, and all
Pope
's Epistles in Verse, among which are his Imitations from
Horace.
They shall come with the Books I mentioned in my last.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CIX.
Oxon.
Oct.
5, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Received yours of the 30th of last Month, with which I am very well pleased. I hope you have received one from me dated on the same Day with yours. In my last I exhausted almost every thing I had to say on the Topic of Wit and Humour; I shall only add, that, after all that can be said of them, they can only be considered as the Seasoning of Comedy. The great Standard of all is good Sense, with Discernment, Judgment, and a thorough Knowledge of Mankind.
These must appear in the Plot, Construction, and Conduct of a Play; in the Sentiments; in the Manners; in the Characters; and in the Propriety of the Diction: our Vices, our Affections, and Passions; our Humours, Weaknesses, and Follies, as well as their Contraries, ought to be well understood, coloured, and expressed. Then all are to be seasoned with Wit and Humour, in an easy and just Manner.
As for the Unities of Action, Time, and Place, which the Antients insist upon so strongly, especially that of Action, the best that can be said in their Behalf (in my Opinion) is, that it is better to have them, than be without them; for a Play, if it is not good in itself, will not become so, for the Unities being ever so religiously observed. We have many Plays extant, where they are all kept to the utmost Nicety, and yet the Pieces altogether are not worth a Perusal.
There are also Dramatic Productions, wherein the Rules are wholly set aside, which are the Admiration of every Reader of the most refined Taste. Our inimitable
Shakespeare
stands an Example of this, against all the cold Observers of Accuracy, that ever did, or ever will exist.
Pray read what
Longinus
says of
Plato
and
Lysias, Demosthenes
and
Hyperides, Ion
and
Sophocles.
As you have
Horace's Art of Poetry,
I shall send you an Abstract of it in my next, which I could wish you would compare carefully with the Poem itself, as you go through it.
I hope to hear from you soon. I have no Time for a longer Letter at present. My most humble Service to your Mama and Aunt.
I am,
dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CX.
Oxford,
Oct.
9, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Have the Pleasure of yours of the 6th, and am pleased with it. You enter into the Subject spiritedly, and your Remarks are just.
I have collected all your Books; namely,
Roscommon
's and
Buckingham's
Essays,
Boileau, Vida, Pope's
Epistles from
Horace,
&c. (These last are sent to be new-bound) and the Arch-Bishop of
Cambray
on Eloquence. As these, together with
Aristotle
's Art of Poetry, and
Longinus
which you have already, will give yo just Ideas and form your Taste, so
Le-Faucheur
will give you a right Notion of Pronunciation. He is said to be the best who ever wrote on that Point. He is greatly commended by those two famous Men
Bayle
and
Le Clerc.
I have got him for you in English, but I could not get him in French. It seems the Translator did not know who wrote the Original, but I well know it was
Le-Faucheur.
I think you ought to consider him well.
Aristotle
may, perhaps, seem somewhat hard and tedious, at first, but he is worth much Time and Labour. He is the great Original that all the Rest have followed. Use your Patience, but if, on such Trial, you find him require too much Attention, lay him aside, till you become a little older. Whenever you are acquainted with him, you will find him the true Master of true Criticism.
All these Books shall be sent you one Day this Week, and you shall have previous Notice. I have some Business, which will engage me for two Days, so you may not hear from me till Wednesday or Thursday next.
My humble Service to your Mama and Aunt.
Adieu,
my dear Nancy,
Your's J. P.
LETTER CXI.
Oxford,
Oct.
16, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Have just now received yours of the 14th, I have a troublesome and tedious Job on my Hands, yet I will set it aside a Moment to answer your Question about
Terence.
The Sense, the Conduct, Characters, Sentiments and Diction of this Author (I am speaking of the Original) are wonderfully fine; but the great
Julius Caesar
complained that he wanted the
Vis Comica,
that is, (translated literally)
the comic Force or Strength.
I presume
Caesar
meant
Humour;
and in that he assuredly fell infinitely short of
Plautus,
who alone is the other comic Poet of
Rome
that is left us.
I am entirely of your Opinion in Regard to the two Plays you mention.
The Squire of Alsatia
is a Disgrace to the Drama, to Letters, common Sense, and common Decency, and yet there have been Audiences found to encourage the Representation.
The Hint of the
Plain Dealer
is evidently taken from the
Misantrope
of
Moliere,
but there is a great Exception to this Comedy, in Point of Decorum; which is to be much lamented when we consider the vast Fund of Wit, wherewith it abounds.
You will have all your Books by
Bew
's Coach on
Wednesday
next. My Service at Home.
I am,
my dear,
yours J. P.
LETTER CXII.
Oxon,
Oct.
20, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Have sent the Books according to Promise.
Herewith you have a short Abstract of
Vida's
Art of Poetry. If any Part appears unintelligible, the Poem itself will clear it up. To that I refer you. I have already given my Reasons, why I send Extracts from a Poem, which you have at Hand.
I will be more particular as to those Reasons, that you may be very clear in my Meaning—
You may, perhaps, think that I might have spared myself the Pains of transcribing, and you the Pains of reading these Abstracts. But, in my Opinion, they will be of some, and even of more Use than if you had not the Books. All the Heads are but short Hints and Items, which would be of little Service without the Authors, at large. The Authors explain and enforce what is in my little Abridgments, and those very Abridgments impress deeper in your Mind what the Author has said. They reciprocally aid each other. The Abstracts serve yet further to sort the different Heads and Precepts, and to range them in order; so that you may thereby obtain a distinct and well-disposed View of them all at once.
You shall next have an Abstract from
Boileau.
These are all to be read with great Care; and I must warn you that there are several Errors in the Printing, especially in
Pope
's Epistles, and in the Essays of
Buckingham
and
Roscommon.
Those you must notice, and correct, as they occur.
Faucheur
is an excellent Book. As I told you formerly, I am not for your setting up for a Critick, but I would have you attain to a just Idea of the Nature and Excellencies of fine Writting, and to form a right Judgment; towards which it is with great Pleasure that I contribute, from time to time, such Assistance as lies within my poor Ability. Write to me on Receipt of the Box.
I am, with Service to your Mama and Aunt,
my dear Nancy,
yours affectionately, J. P.
P. S.
Although
Vida
treats only of the Epic Poem, he has many useful Rules, which are applicable to every other Species of Poetry.
LETTER CXIII.
Oxon.
Oct.
23, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Hope you have received your Books safe, and found the Letter which was with them in the Box.
I here send you an Abstract of
Boileau
's Art of Poetry, as I did of
Vida
there. I have two or three Things to recommend to you in reading these Authors.
In the first Place, you should consider the great Rules, on which the Rest depend, and which are laid down by all, or, at least, the major Part of these Critics. These great Rules may be thus comprehended;
Good Sense is the Foundation of all good Writing.
Chuse Subjects fit for your Genius.
Never depart from Nature.
In the next Place, observe such Rules as are in few, or but in one of these Authors. These are more likely to escape your View, and therefore should be more carefully searched for, and attended to.
You should not run over these Rules carelessly, and in a cursory Manner, but deliberately, both with Attention and Application.
Sometimes reflect, at Leisure, upon one Rule or Head, sometimes upon another, and endeavour to account to yourself for the Reason of such Rule. If you cannot clearly satisfy yourself, ask some Person, or write to me. It may be no unprofitable, nor unpleasant Diversion to enter on a Disquisition of that Kind.
One Caution, by the Bye. Do not load your Head with all these Rules lumbered together in a confused, indigested Heap, but strive to understand them clearly and minutely by a patient, and leisurely Attention, and you will reap the Fruit of them in due Time.
When you cannot see quite through the Reason of any Proposition, and yet are desirous to account for it by yourself, rather suspend your Search, than remain content with a poor imperfect Solution of the Difficulty; of all Things, never rest satisfied with Absurdities, which many Persons are too apt to do, some from Oversight, some from, mere Laziness. Such Errors are attended with a double Disadvantage. In the first Instance, no Progress is made, in our Studies; in the next, the Time is lost, which might have been employed to some Purpose.
The Books, which I have sent you, have, I believe, many Errata, or Mis-Printings in them; a due Observation of the Advice given above, will not only enable you to discover those, but also to supply the true Meaning of the Author.
Remember that, next to Epic Poetry, Tragedy and Comedy are the great Species of Writing. Tragedy indeed is itself a Species of the
Epic.
I do not recommend them to you merely that you should
read Plays,
(according to the Acceptation of dissipated People, who pass, or rather waste an idle Hour, over what they neither comprehend nor retain) but as
moral Treatises
; for no dramatic Works, but what have this Tendency, answer the Ends they were designed for, or are worth your Attention.
I could wish you would improve yourself in reading; it is a nice Art, and known but to few. You promise, I think, to excel in it. When engaged in a Poem, you would do well to repeat aloud sometimes. It is of Service to the Breath, if not done to Excess, and will be of great Use; for many Errors will be discovered by the Ear, that are come at by no other Means. For the Rules of Pronunciation,
Le Faucheur
is the best Instructor extant among the Moderns.
But all these Rules, however well understood, will be of small Use, without knowing the great Models from which these Rules are drawn; you should therefore read the best Authors in the different Sorts of Poetry.
The Antients lay down these three Things necessary to perfect us in any Science; first,
Art—that is, Precept or Rule;
Imitation— that is, an Endeavour to study the best Models, and follow their Manner; and,
Exercitation—namely, Practice.
Vida,
as you may observe, is the most regular of all these Essayists. His first Book is on
Invention, or the Provision of Matter;
the next is
The Disposition, or Well-ordering of that Matter;
the third is
The Beautifying and Adorning of that Matter.
These are the three great Points to be observed not only in Poetry, but in Oratory; and in almost every Art and Science, as Painting, Sculpture, Building,
&c.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your affectionate Friend, J. P.
LETTER CXIV.
Oxon.
Oct.
27, 1743.
My Dear,
I Received yours of the 22d, and answered it forthwith, but have kept the Answer by me, having been in hourly Expectation of a Recruit of Franks, and they are but now arrived. You have neglected to notice one or two Circumstances, which I enquired about. I wish you would always place the Letter before you, which you are about to answer, and answer Correspondents as soon as you can after you hear from them. What you thus say while the Feelings are and lively, though contained in six Lines alone, is worth a whole Volume, that is damped by the Coldness of Delay.
I never read
Cleveland,
but am told it is an excellent Book, and shews
les Plis et les Replis de Coeur humain
very agreeably and accurately.
I think you should read
Vida
first very carefully; then
Horace
; next to him
Boileau
; then
Pope
's Criticism,
Buckingham,
and
Roscommon,
progressively. The Archbishop of
Cambray
and
Le-Faucheur,
may come in last.
Such Particulars as are treated by more than one of them, ought to be compared, after you have gone through the Authors. For Example, I would have you collect and compare all they have said upon Epic Poetry together; upon Ode, Satire, Tragedy, and Comedy; and when you have Leisure, write a sort of Abridgment of them, for your own Use.
You should make yourself a perfect Mistress of the principal Figures of Speech; such as Metaphor, Simile, Allegory, Metonymy, Irony,
&c. Congreve
's Letter on Humour is a most admirable Piece. The Preface, or Introtion to
Joseph Andrews,
about Ridicule, is well worth considering.
Fielding
is an excellent Judge of Nature and Mankind.
Congreve
's Epistle to Sir
Richard Temple,
on Affectation, and another, under the Name of
Cobham,
are equally excellent.
I am heartily sorry you do not understand Latin, on many Accounts; among the rest, that you cannot read
Vida
in the Original. Though the Translation must be allowed pretty good, yet there is no coming up to the Beauties of the Author's Lines.
If I mistake not,
Cleveland
is a Romance; there may, perhaps, be some Truth in it; but I never read nor heard of a natural Son of
Cromwell
's under that Name, which, had the Story been true, must have been known long before now.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your faithful and affectionate Friend, J. P.
LETTER CXV.
Oxon.
Oct.
30, 1743,
My dear Nancy,
I Received yours of the 27th in due Course. I have written to you on so many Subjects, that I am almost exhausted; and latterly you have not entered into what I have said sufficiently to give me a Handle for proceeding. It is true, I cannot but admit your Excuse, in Part, to wit, your having so much to do during your Mother's Indisposition. Your Attion to her must create you full Employment, and you are right not to let any Consideration interrupt that pious Care. I most heartily acquit you from the Use of Pen and Ink, till you are at better Leisure, and will, in the mean Time, endeavour to give you Amusement.
I thought to have said something about Figures in Writing, but you now have
Longinus
and
Vida,
who explain them much better than I can.
In a Letter I wrote you lately, I observed there is a great deal of Satire in true Comedy. I have now to add, that there is a great deal of Irony in Satire. This is a very extensive Figure, and converts itself into many Shapes. Sometimes it is direct, pointed, and sharp; sometimes it appears in the Shape of Praise. It occasionally counterfeits Love, Pity, Fear, in short, what not? Sometimes it lurks in Metaphor, Allegory, Comparison, Fable,
&c.
Dr.
Swift
has varied it so many Ways, and all so naturally and pleasantly, that the Study of his Works, especially
The Tale of a Tub,
and the Pieces bound up with it, gives us a better Idea of true Irony, in all its Branches, than any Description is capable of affording.
The Tale of a Tub
has represented the Fopperies and Absurdities of the Roman Catholic Tenets more glaringly than the gravest Discourse in the World could have done, and that under a Story taken from common Life. In that Author's other Works, he has exposed an hundred Follies in so droll a Manner, that they strike us in that Way beyond the Power of the most solemn Essay or Declamation. How has he exposed all Kinds and Degrees of Vain-Glory and Affectation, by imitating the very Fault he is exposing! In how contemptible and just a Light has he placed the Custom of punning, of talking always proverbially, and all idle Discourse, in his
Polite Conversation!
In short, it is needless to say more than that the whole Art of Ridicule is to be learned from Swift.
The only Addition I have to make to this Subject, is to quote you one Instance of Irony from the Holy Scriptures, which I think as strong and as just as any I ever read. It is in Ridicule of the Priests of
Baal,
who was a false God; an Idol, and no more. His Priests invoked him to perform a Miracle.
Elijah
mocketh them. The Reasons which he assigns for their God not answering their Intercessions, are the severest Piece of Raillery imaginable.
"Cry aloud," says he,
for he is a God; either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is on a Journey; or, peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked.
All which Charges being so unworthy of a God, the Raillery is conceived, in its full Force, the Moment the Prophet opens his Mouth, and must be understood by the most ordinary Capacity. The whole Chapter is worth your reading. It is the 18th of the first Book of
Kings.
I do not recollect if I ever mentioned to you the 58th Chapter of
Isaiah.
If I did, you have not noticed it in any of your Letters; if I did not, I now recommend it to you. It is admirable, as far as respects the Subject itself; but the Disposition of the Chapter, the Repetitions, the Emphasis and Energy, and the many Figures introduced, make it admirably worth your Notice. The Chapter is still more excellent, in-as-much as it is full of strong Figures, yet appears exceedingly simple and plain. This is the great Beauty of Diction, when the Figures are so naturally brought in, that we feel their Effect, before we perceive them. They strike unseen.
Dryden
says,
Figures ought to be worked into a Discourse, as if they were Part of the Tissue itself, not embossed upon it.
The Allusion is excellent, and the Observation just.
I am,
my dearest,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CXVI.
Oxon.
Nov.
6, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Have yours of the third of this Month. You have not yet entered into any of the late Subjects I wrote to you about, but your former Excuse, I presume, still exists, and it is too strong to be opposed.
It is not material whether you ever read
Polite Conversation
again or no; the Moral of that Satire is too obvious to require much Attention, it being designed only to ridicule the insipid Conversation that passes too ordinarily among the most fashionable People. And can it well be wondered at, when so little Attention is paid to the Education of Children, whether Male or Female, in higher Life?
To qualify them for Company
(such is the fashionable Phrase) is the chief Object of Parents in that Style; that is, to make a Bow, dance a Minuet, and play at Cards. The two first I acknowledge to be agreeable, and even necessary Qualifications, provided they are accompanied with something intrinsic. But while so much Care is employed in gracing the Outside, surely some little might be used in cultivating the Mind. Perhaps
Master
is sent to some public Seminary, and
Miss
to a Boarding-School; at both which Places, I am sorry to say, the moral Part of Education is the last attended to, if it be at all. They are quickly launched into Life (poor Souls!) and possibly to the most important State of Life, Matrimony, (as Family-Purposes and Interests lead, or rather, too often mislead) without a single Idea to bless themselves with, or even knowing that there is such a Thing as a
Mind
to inspire and regulate their earthly Composition.
The Reason for calling
The Tale of a Tub
by that Name, is, I think, pretty plain. We call any idle, romantic Story,
A Tale of a Tub,
and if this Story of
Swift
's were to be taken in a literal Sense, none ever more justly deserved the Name.
I would have you look often on the Abstract of
Vida,
while you are reading him. Besides the Beauty of his Stile, the Worth, Weight, and Importance of his Subject, besides these I say, the Order, Disposition, and Method of his Poem, is admirable; preferable, in my Opinion, to all the rest.
You should read
Boileau
with great Care, and make the same Use of your Abstracts with them all. Have you yet got a thorough Conception of the principal Figures in Rhetoric and Poetry, the chief, I mean, which I pointed out to you? I hope to have an Answer to this Question soon, and your Observations on those Passages in the Holy Scriptures which I recommended. Your Letters are always acceptable and entertaining, my dear Nancy, to
your ever affectionate J. P.
P. S.
I wish you would mention the Dates of my Letters, when you acknowledge the Receipt of them.
LETTER CXVII.
Oxon.
Nov.
13, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Have the Pleasure of yours of the 10th. You say there are some Figures, which you do not, in any wise, understand. Add to
Longinus, Vida
's Discourse on this Point, in his third Book, and you must acquire a due Notion of the principal Figures or Tropes, both in Poetry and Rhetoric. Metaphor is the chief of all; and even the principal Figures, next to Metaphor, are but Species or Branches of it.
A Metaphor is the Use of a Word in a borrowed Sense. The principal Properties and Uses of it, are,
First, to express Things for which we have not suitable Words or Phrases;
Secondly, to express them so strongly, as to convey deep and agreeable Impressions;
Thirdly, to give us the Representation and Resemblance of two Things at once.
In short, it is like a Picture, where the Resemblance to the Thing painted gives us the chief Pleasure.
Near the Beginning of the third Book of
Vida
's Art of Poetry, there is this glorious Description of Metaphor:
See how the Poet banishes with Grace
A native Term to give a Stranger Place!
From diff'rent Images, with just Success,
He cloaths his Matter in the borrow'd Dress;
The borrow'd Dress the Things themselves admire,
And wonder whence they drew the strange Attire;
Proud of their ravish'd Spoils, they now disclaim
Their former Colour and their genuine Name,
And, in another Garb more beauteous grown,
Prefer the foreign Habit to their own.
After producing some beautiful Instances where the Metaphor is thus happily introduced, he proceeds, and illustrates his Sentiment with a Simile, which deserves our highest Admiration;
Pleased with the borrow'd Charms, the Readers find
A Crowd of diff'rent Images combin'd,
Rise from a single Object to the Mind.
So the pleas'd Trav'ller from a Mountain's Brow
Views the calm Surface of the Seas below,
Tho' wide beneath the floating Ocean lies,
The first immediate Object of his Eyes,
He sees the Forests tremble from within,
And gliding Meadows paint the Deeps with green;
While to his Eyes the fair Delusions pass
In gay Succession thro' the watry Glass.
We have no adequate Words in our Language to express the Intenseness of Love, or the Extravagance of any violent Passions; for which Reason it is very common to make use of Metaphor in our usual Discourse; for Example, we
burn
with Love—we are
inflamed
with Rage,
&c.
We say of a Man who is of a kind Disposition, that he has a
warm
Heart, of one otherwise disposed, that he has a
cold,
or a
hard
Heart. We
melt
into Tears; we
sink
with Grief; we
swell
with Anger; our Hearts
leap
with
Joy
; we
die
with Fear; and so on.
Virgil,
describing
Dido
concealing her Love, says,
She
feeds
within her Veins a Flame unseen.
In the Holy Scriptures these metaphorical Expressions are frequently met. God
hides
his Face, or
shines
upon us,
viz.
Hide
thy Face from my Sins, and
blot
out all my Misdeeds.
Let thy Mercy
shine
upon us!
Lift up the
Light
of thy Countenance upon us.
In other Instances, where we use Metaphors to express Things with more Strength, and make a deeper Impression, for a
dull
Discourse, we say a
cold, lifeless
Discourse. A Poet, instead of telling us, the Side-Board
was filled
with Plate, says,
The Side-Board
groan'd
with Plate.
Metaphor is sometimes used to bring the Thing, from which it is borrowed, before our Eyes, that we may enjoy the Beauty of the Similitude.
Cowley
says,
The beechen Bowl
foams
with a
Flood
of Wine;
and
Pope,
A
Tide
of Trojans
flow,
and fill the Place.
What a beautiful Resemblance is this! It not only presents us with the Idea of a great Crowd breaking into an Intrenchment, but likewise with that of a raging Sea breaking over its Banks; and to add to both, conveys the perfect Resemblance which each bears to the other.
Sometimes the Metaphor of a Metaphor is made use of; for Example, we usually call a
dull
Preacher a
heavy
Preacher.
Pope
carries this Word
heavy,
which in itself is a Metaphor, to a Metaphor beyond it, where he says, in his new
Dunciad,
— — — leaden Gilbert
preach'd. Heavy
is a metaphorical Expression for
dull,
and
leaden
for
heavy.
I will trouble you no further, till I know whether you chuse I should thus proceed to perfect you in the Knowledge of Figures; if you do, I shall bring you acquainted with the rest of the metaphorical Family, their Relations, and Descendants.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours very truly, J. P.
P. S.
I know you will drink my Health to-morrow.
LETTER CXVIII.
Oxford
Nov.
26, 1743.
My Dear,
YOU cannot conceive how much you have pleased me, in submitting to so unentertaining a Subject for a Letter, rather than be without Instruction. It is but undergoing a little disagreeable Labour now, to reap the Pleasure hereafter; for that you certainly will; and without a thorough Knowledge of the Grounds of Rhetorick, the most elegant Author or Orator can never take a proper Possession of you.
You ask, in your last, about Polyptotes, and Gradations; I shall therefore make them the Subject of this Letter.
Their ordinary Names are
Polyptoton,
and
Climax,
which are both Greek Words. I need not here insert what
Longinus
says of them, but refer you to him. I shall only observe that, beside the Substitution of one Number or Tense for another, (which is the
Polyptoton
) or rather the Licence of so doing, there is often great Beauty in it; especially in the Greek and Latin Languages, and chiefly in the former, owing to the Variety of Terminations in their Verbs and Nouns. The French Language too exceeds ours in this particular, though it falls very short of the other two.
That you may clearly understand what I mean, take the following Example in French.
Si vous m'aviez aimé autant que je vous aime, je vous aimerois mieux que Personne; mais vouliez vous que je vous aimasse, quand vous ne m'aimiez pas?
Do you not here perceive a beautiful Variety in the Persons and Tenses? Take the same in English, and you will discover a total Want of it.
If you had loved me as well as I love you, I would have loved you better than any Person; but would you have had me love you, when you did not at all love me?
Here you see nothing but
love
and
loved
all along, and this, I presume, explains what I mean.
The Climax is a noble and beautiful Figure, when managed without Affectation. We ascend from one Step to another, building, as it were, something on something laid down before, till we come to the great Point, at which we aim. I will give you two Instances, one on a ludicrous, the other on a solemn Subject. How excellently is the Tumult and Confusion increased in the Poem of the
Alley,
(which I sent you some Time since) from a Girl's Whimpering to a Boy's roaring, Dogs barking, Vixens scolding, and Swine grunting! Again, How beautiful is the Gradation of Distress in
Congreve
's
Pastora!
No more the Nymphs shall with soft Tales delight,
Her Ears—no more with Dances please her sight;
Nor ever more shall Swain make Song of Mirth,
To bless the joyous Day, that gave her Birth:
Lost is that Day, which had from her its Light,
For ever lost with her, in endless Night;
In endless Night, and Arms of Death she lies,
Death in eternal Shades has shut Pastora's Eyes.
This Figure, you may observe by the foregoing Example, is generally accompanied by Repetition. I will add one more Instance from the great
Tillotson,
not only to illustrate this Figure, (which indeed it does to an Excellency) but also for the Beauty, Justness, and Utility of the Observation.
After we have practised good Actions a while, they become easy; and when they are easy, we begin to take Pleasure in them, and when they please us, we do them frequently; and by Frequency of Acts, a Thing grows into a Habit; and a confirmed Habit is a second Kind of Nature; and so far as any Thing is natural, so far it is necessary, and we can hardly do otherwise; nay we do it many Times, when we do not think of it.
You will observe that this great Master of Eloquence avoids repeating the same Word too literally, but uses a Sort of Variation, to give a greater Beauty to his Discourse, and to avoid seeming affected, to which Censure an exact Repetition would probably have exposed him.
The Omission of Copulatives adds much Grace to a Discourse, on some Occasions, particularly in Haste or Passion; for Instance,
Go—run—fly—be quick,
&c. and on others, great Beauty is derived from their being multiplied. The Quotation, I have already made from the Arch-Bishop, wherein the Word
and
is found no less than six Times, renders it unnecessary to seek further for an Example.
I may probably take another Opportunity to enlarge somewhat further on these two opposite Figures. I hope to see you about Christmas.
J. P.
P. S.
After finishing the above, my Dear, yours of Yesterday came to Hand, and is there answered. I thank God, I am very well, and drank your Health, your Mama's and Aunt's on the fourteenth, as you did mine. Your Letter gives me much Pleasure.
Encore, adios! ma chere.
LETTER CXIX.
Oxford,
Nov.
27, 1743.
My dear,
AS you now understand a Metaphor, I shall say no more on that Head, but consider the Figures, which are near a-kin to it. These are, Metonymy, Synecdoche, Hyperbole, Irony, Simile, Allegory, Fable, and Catachresis.
Before I proceed, let me transcribe a Passage out of
Blackwell
's new Introduction to the Classics, with a little Addition. You may get Acquaintance with this odd Family, through his Means, I dare say. He is intimate with them.
There is a general Analogy and Relationship between all Tropes; and in all of them we use a foreign or strange Word, instead of one that is proper. Hence we sometimes say one Thing, and mean another quite different; but this is not always the Cafe. These Tropes, like other Relations in Life, are some nearer, some farther removed.
When we advance one Thing, and then say some other, which has a near Affinity to it, it is a Synecdoche.
When we say one Thing, and mean another mutually depending, it is a Metonymy.
When we say one Thing, and mean the very opposite, it is Irony.
When we say one Thing, and mean another like to it, it is a Metaphor.
A Metaphor long continued is an Allegory.
An Allegory turned into a Story is called a Fable, and in the Scripture-Language is a Parable.
When a Metaphor is carried into a great Degree of Boldness it is an Hyperbole; and when it is far-fetched, or carries some Impropriety in it, 'tis a Catachresis.
The Metaphor is the Source and Fountain of them all; and lies chiefly in Verbs;
Metonymy lies most in Nouns, and this is the best Distinction I can make between them.
To exemplify the latter, We call a wise Man a
Cato
or a
Solomon;
a strong Man, a
Hercules;
a handsome Youth, an
Adonis
; a fine Woman, a
Venus,
or an
Angel.
The Instance is preserved too between rational Creatures, and Brutes. A rude Fellow is termed a Bear, a bold Fellow, a Lyon. "Go, tell that
Fox,"
&c. says our
Saviour,
speaking of
Herod,
who was a cunning, supple, fawning Prince.
Again, between animate, and inanimate Beings; a fine Woman is a
Jewel,
a
Rose,
a
Lilly.
"Our God," says the Prophet, "is a consuming
Fire."
"I am the
Vine,"
declares our Saviour; and even names himself by Appellations of Qualities and Virtues, as well as by those of inanimate Beings—
viz.
—"I am the
Way,"
"the
Truth,"
"the
Life."
Rivers are often named to imply the Country through which they pass, especially if they be the chief Rivers; as in a Line of
Prior,
Her Warriors
Anna
sends from
Tweed
and
Thames."
To use a Metonymy properly, we should start a new Thought; else it is to no Purpose; for why should we Call any one a
Sir Francis Wronghead,
unless we design to paint him under that Character? If
Prior
had meant
Tweed
and
Thames
in a proper Sense, there would have been no Meaning in the Expression at all.
The Figure Synecdoche is defined by a Part being placed for the Whole, as
"My dear Heart."
The Romans said,
My dear Head! Honest Heart! Honest Breast!
&c. It is again seen, when the Containing is used for the Contained, as,
Drink
this Glass—Eat of this
Dish
—The whole
Theatre
burst into Tears—
Greece
was in Confusion—
Africa
was in Arms—The
Rhine
and
Danube
made their Submissions to
Caesar.
Again, when Plurals are used for Singulars. As if a veteran Actor should say, Your
Quins
and your
Cibbers
were not comparable to the
Bettertons
and
Barrys
of the former Age.
This Figure is used both to extoll and depreciate, as you will easily discern. Great Judgment is required in the Management of this, and indeed of all. Nothing is more ridiculous than a Figure ill-placed.
There is a Passage in
Claudian
so excellent, that I must insert it. You will discover in it, the Metaphor, the Metonymy, the Synecdoche, and the Hyperbole. It loses a great Deal of its Beauty, to be sure, when stripped of the Original Language; where it runs thus—
—Maduerunt
Saxone
fuso
Orcades;
incaluit
Pictorum
Sanguine
Thule; Scotorum
Cumulos flevit glacialis
Ierne.
This literally translated, is,
The
Orkneys
were drenched, the
Saxon
being overthrown;
Thule
grew warm with the Blood of the
Picts,
and the icy River
Ierne
mourned, in Tears, the Heaps of the
Scots,
that were slain.
In my next, I shall go through the other Tropes, and shew you the Difference between what is called a Trope, and what a Figure. In the mean Time I leave it to you to find out where the Beauties of the above-cited Passage of
Claudian
lye.
Adieu!
J. P.
LETTER CXX.
Oxon,
Dec.
4, 1743.
My dear Nancy,
I Have not heard from you since
Sunday
last, so not having any Thing to answer, I shall resume my Discourse, where I left off.
I shall not make any Mention of Irony, as you understand it sufficiently; nor need I say much of Hyperbole. It is only an Exaggeration of Things beyond the Reality, to make a deeper Impression, or to give us a stronger Idea of what is meant to be conveyed to the Mind. We often run naturally into this, as indeed all Figures have their Source from our Passions and Sensibilities. How common is it to say,
sweeter than Honey, whiter than Snow,
when, in Truth, we mean no more than to say,
very
sweet, and
very
white.
An Hyperbole, like Irony, appears in the Shape of other Figures, sometimes in Similies, as,
like the Snow for Whiteness;
and there are Degrees in the Hyperbole, as in the Simile; for, speaking of any antient Custom, we often say,
as old as the Creation;
and, when we would raise the Comparison higher, we say,
older than the Creation.
This Figure is noble, when judiciously used, but when improperly, it is harsh, uncouth, and degenerates into a Catachresis. There are so many noble Hyperboles in
Homer
and
Virgil,
and particularly in the Holy Writings, that it is needless to quote them.
A bold Metaphor becomes an Hyperbole, a strong extravagant Hyperbole becomes a Catachresis, and even in this there is some Beauty, when introduced with Judgment.
A Metaphor and Hyperbole are sometimes softened by a Comparison; and there is a Manner of expressing that Comparison, whereby not only the two first Figures, but even the third itself, is softened; and this is sometimes necessary to be contrived, to avoid Expressions which otherwise would be too strong.
All these shall be spoken of in their due Places, but I shall confine the Remainder of this Letter solely to the Hyperbole.
In the first Place, an Hyperbole may be direct, as
The Giant's Head o'ertopp'd the Clouds;
and the Beauty of the Image presented, and Manner of the Description, frequently set off this Figure, and totally conceal the Extravagance of the Fancy.
Virgil
gives us an Example of this in the ninth Book of his
Aeneid,
near the End. He tells us,
Camilla
Outstripp'd the Winds in Speed upon the Plain,
Flew o'er the Fields, nor hurt the bearded Grain;
She swept the Seas, and as she skimm'd along,
Her flying Feet, unbath'd on Billows hung.
This Passage is very beautiful, as
Dryden
has rendered it, but it is ten Times more so in the Original.
Virgil
says,
She could have slown along the uppermost Tops of a Field of Corn uncut, nor have hurt the tender Stalks in her Course; or she could have taken her Way through the Middle of the Sea, raised high with swelling Billows, nor so much as dipped the Soles of her swift Feet in them.
This is a literal Translation; but no Description can reach the Beauties of the Original. Observe the pleasing Metaphors of
flying
instead of
running fast
; of
hurting
the Grain instead of
treading it down
; and the Word which I have rendered
dipp'd,
is in the Latin
tingeret,
and conveys less than
dipping
; it implies no more than
wetting
or
tincturing.
An Hyperbole, in the next Place, may be indirect, as in a Comparison; thus,
It seems as if the
Cyclades
again
Were rooted up, and justled in the Main,
Or floating Mountains floating Mountains meet,
Such was the first Encounter of the Fleet.
Aeneid, Book viii. near the End.
When Hyperboles are very strong, the Subject or the Object at the instant, the Hurry, Heat, and Passion, ought not only to deserve, but even to require them.
I shall conclude this Letter with one Example from the Holy Scriptures, where the Boldness of the Figure, in my Opinion, exceeds every thing of that Kind, which can any where be found; and surely the Occasion not only requires, but commands it. I think it is the Prophet
Isaiah,
who, speaking of poor Mortals in Comparison with the infinitely great and powerful God, says,
We are as Nothing, yea less than Nothing in thy Sight.
Does not this strike us with a prodigious Idea of the infinite Disproportion between
God
and us?
Though these Figures are easily understood yet it requires much Nicety and Attention to discover how, when, and where they are to be applied, what Degree of Force or Abatement is to be used in the Application, and how they should be dressed out for the Purpose.
I am,
my dear,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CXXI.
Oxon.
Dec.
8, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
YOU observe very truly, that if the Word
as
were taken out from the Passages of the Canticles, which you quoted, they would be still more beautiful; and indeed it is not in the Original. You see the
as
is in Italick Characters, which is constantly used when Words, that were not in the Original, are added to make the Sense more intelligible, or to suit the warm Expressions of the Oriental Language to the Coldness of ours.
The Simile, or Comparison, is a Figure easily comprehended, but a skilful Person alone knows how and when to use it. One general and unerring Caution belongs to this, as well as to the other Tropes a-kin to it; namely, that Baseness or Meanness, Impropriety, Loathsomeness, Obscenity, and Prophaneness, are to be avoided. A low and unworthy Comparison should never interfere with a grand Subject.
Homer
is blamed for this in many Instances. I shall mention only one; to wit, where he compares
Ajax
to an
Ass.
I refer you to what
Vida
had advanced in his Disfavour, and
Pope
in his Defence. There is however great Propriety in the Comparison, that lies in the Action or Behaviour of the one and the other, on the Occasions that
Homer
mentions,
though not in the Person of
Ajax
and the
Ass
; but even the Introduction of them any how in a Likeness together, or presenting the Idea of one with the other, seems to debase the Thing compared.
Virgil,
says
Vida,
would never have done this, and indeed we find him delicate in his Applications, and ever studiously cautious to avoid low and gross Comparisons.
There is a most disgustful Simile in one of
Pope
's Epistles, about
Westphalia
Hogs; nothing but the Loathsomeness of the Vice he is decrying, and his Design of making it detestable, can excuse it.
Prophane Comparisons shock People of Virtue, as much as People of Breeding. I will give you one Instance, which I have many Times heard with Pain. When any one has talked or acted in an unintelligible or unaccountable Manner, I have heard a Pretender at Wit exclaim,
Oh! that's like the Peace of
God,
it passeth all Understanding;
alluding prophanely to the Benediction at the End of the Communion-Service. Words and Phrases, which have been sanctified and consecrated in an especial Manner to religious Purposes, ought not idly to be played with and scoffed at. Some Persons were so warm in the Revolution-Interest, that they called
King William
the
Saviour
of the Nation. It is true there was no actual Harm in this, but another Term might have been found, and with a better Grace, while we have so constant and material an Idea devoted to the Word
Saviour.
Pope
has been blamed by some Persons for calling
Agamemnon, King of Kings
; that Appellation having been so solemnly consecrated to
God,
in the
Revelations,
and elsewhere in the Holy Writings.
We are not to expect a Comparison should hit in every Particular; it is enough if the Thing, to which we allude, agree with the Thing compared in the principal Point or Points, that we intend to illustrate.
A short Comparison is easily turned into a Metaphor; but where it runs into a Length of Circumstances, it is impossible to do it. For Example, when
Virgil,
in the twelfth Book of the
Aeneid,
compares
Aeneas
and
Turnus,
in the Heat of the Battle, to two Torrents rushing down a Precipice, and laying every thing waste before them; and again, near the End of the Book, where he likens the same Heroes,
Turnus
flying, and
Aeneas
pursuing, to a Deer and a Hound, the Particulars are so many, and the Illustration so extensively beautiful, that it would not be comprized within the Compass of a Metaphor.
Where the Metaphor would be too hard or obscure, then a Simile is necessary; for Instance, it would have been uncouth in
Homer
to have called
Hector a sudden Night,
or
a snowy Mountain
; in the one Place therefore he says,
he came on the Greeks
like
sudden Night,
which creates a strong Idea of Terror; and in the other,
"like
a snowy Mountain," from his Figure being so conspicuous, and his shining Arms.
Let me here digress a Moment, and raise your Admiration, perhaps, your Indignation. Some piddling Criticks, who, forsooth, would have a Comparison hit in every Particular, and look in the wrong Place for the Simile, have found Fault with the last I mentioned. " What," say they,
does a snowy Mountain move?
as if the Essence of the Simile consisted in the Motion. No, surely, the Beauty is only in the awful
Appearance
of a Mountain covered with Snow, which
Hector
resembled when he moved along, towering in his Stature, and shining in his Arms.
As Comparisons need not be exact in every Particular, so sometimes a Poet of a sublime Genius will run his Description beyond the Comparison, when any singular Quality or Circumstance strikes upon his Fancy, though it has nothing to do with the Comparison itself, or the Matter that introduced it. Whether this is strictly allowable by the nice Rules of Criticism, I shall not determine; but surely it is very natural, and, in my Opinion, highly beautiful. The French call these Comparisons
à longue Queue.
Many of them are to be found in
Homer
and
Milton.
They are not so frequent in
Virgil,
though I shall instance you one from him, because it is but short, and has been the Subject of much Altercation among the learned. It is in the first Book of the Aeneid, and thus translated by
Dryden,
So on Eurota's
Line 502. Quails ab Eurotae Ripis, &c.
Banks, or Cynthus' Height,
Diana seems and so she charms the Sight,
When in the Dance the graceful Goddess leads
The Choir of Nymphs, and over-tops their Heads;
Known by her Quiver and her lofty Mien,
She walks majestic, and she looks their Queen;
Latona sees her shine above the rest,
And feeds with secret Joy her silent Breast
Rowe,
in his Tragedy of
Ulysses,
describing
Penelope,
has imitated this Passage very closely.
Diana thus on Cynthus' shady Top,
Or by Eurota's Stream, leads to the Chace
Her Virgin-Train; a thousand lovely Nymphs
Of Form celestial all, troop by her Side:
Amidst a thousand Nymphs the Goddess stands confess'd
In Beauty, Majesty and Port divine,
Supreme, and eminent.——
Act I.
.
Trapp
's Translation is more literal and nearer to the Words of
Virgil,
than
Dryden's;
well it might, you will say, in-as-much as he was not fettered to Rhyme.
As on Eurota's Banks, or Cynthus' Top,
Diana leads her Train; a thousand Nymphs
Enclose her round, herself her Quiver bears
High on her Shoulder, and with stately Walk
O'ertops them all. A secret Pleasure slides
Along Latona's Breast.—Such Dido was.
The Passage about
Latona
is, in the Original, literally thus,
Joys beat quite thro' Latona's silent Breast
Line 506. Latonae tacitum pertentant Gaudia Pectus.
.
but there is no coming up to
Virgil
himself.
Now what I mean particularly to observe, is, the Circumstance of
Latona
's Joy. This has nothing to do with the Comparison itself, and therefore some Critics wish it had been omitted. I am not one of their Number. I think it adds great Beauty to the Passage. Is any thing more lovely than such a Reflection as this? Would it not immediately and almost irresistibly strike a Poet of a noble Fancy? And is it not highly natural that a Parent should be in Transport at the Sight of a Child in such an
Attitude,
if I may so express myself? "The chief among ten thousand," as the Scripture terms it, and according to
Otway,
(if I do not err)
Among ten thousand eminently known?
Does not the Poet give us also a lovely Instance of Decorum, in describing the Parent modestly attempting to conceal her Transports of Joy, too delicate in her Feelings to exult openly? How judicious a Writer was
Virgil!
The Fancy and Judgment of a Poet is not more conspicuous in any Particular, than in a noble and apt Simile elegantly expressed; for which Reason, I could wish you, my dear, to remark such carefully in all your reading, but more especially in these three great Poets,
Homer, Virgil,
and
Milton.
I may possibly, some Time or other, shew you the vast Excellency of this Comparison (just quoted) in the Original, and how far it exceeds the Translation. I have little more to add at present, than to observe, Comparisons may be varied, heightened, or moderated and tempered, by way of adapting them better to your Purpose; nor need a Poet be confined to
as, so,
or
like
; for you perceive
Virgil
sometimes says,
have you,
or
have you not seen,
&c.
You would think,
&c. When he wishes to soften a strong Comparison, his Phrase is,
you would be tempted to believe
; when to strengthen one,
you would have sworn,
and so on. I only give you Hints; you can enlarge on them in your own Mind; not that I mean to induce you to turn Poet; but to understand the preliminary Rules by which Things ought to be done, is the Method of tasting them, when done, and the most certain Means of distinguishing the Beauties and Merits of one Author from another.
I fear I have sufficiently tired you, but it is worth your while to understand this Topic well. I shall be concise in my Definition of Allegory, Fable, and Catachresis, and then I have done with Tropes.
I am,
my dear,
ever yours, J. P.
LETTER CXXII.
Oxon.
Dec.
18, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
I Shall now explain Allegory and Fable, and then give you Time to breathe awhile, for I fear I grow tiresome to you; but it is your Good which I intend by my long Letters; and Precepts, delivered in this Mode of Discourse between Friends, often make a deeper Impression, than what are to be found in Books, although they may be better explained there. Besides, there are several Things only cursorily explained by
Longinus,
and even by
Cicero
and
Quintilian,
who have enlarged much more on these Heads. There are moreover, in the Course of what I write, several little Observations of my own, which if they do you but little Service, will do you as little Harm.
Allegory is said to be a String of Metaphors; but I think this Description defective; for unless that Series of Metaphors depends on some one particular Point, it is either a faulty Allegory, or, rather, no Allegory at all. To explain what I mean, I will quote a Passage from
Shakespeare's Hamlet.
Whether 'tis nobler in the Mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of Troubles,
And, by opposing, end them.
This has been much censured as a faulty Allegory, because the Writer flies from one Allusion to another, from
Slings
to
taking up of Arms
—against what?—
a Sea
—and then
opposing a Sea,
&c. Now if
Shakespeare
meant this for an Allegory, it is doubtless very faulty; but I verily believe that was not his Meaning. I am of Opinion that he only took the first strong Metaphor which came into his Head, to express himself forcibly and pathetically, and then another, and another, as the Subject rose upon them, but had no idea of making them connected with, or dependent on each other. I will not venture to affirm I am right, but I am certain that one of the most judicious and correct Authors that ever wrote Comedy, does the self-same Thing; I mean
Terence.
He makes one of his Characters say,
I am
walled
about with so many and so great Difficulties, that I cannot
swim
out.
This, you see, is liable to the very same Exception with the former, the Metaphor not being continued in the same Kind; but I believe neither Author had even the most distant Notion of an Allegory.
In the Passion of
Biblis,
in
Ovid
's
Metamorphorsis,
you have a perfect Allegory drawn from
Sea-faring.
I should have watch'd d whence the black Storm might rise,
Ere I had trusted the unfaithful Skies;
Now on the rolling Billows I am tost,
And with extended Sails on the blind Shelves am lost.
Here you see the Images are perfect and uniform. I will quote another from
Prior's Henry
and
Emma,
which is very beautiful;
Did I but purpose to embark with thee
On the smooth Surface of a Summer's Sea;
While gentle Zephyrs play with prosp'rous Gales,
And Fortune's Favour fills the swelling Sails,
But would forsake the Ship and make for Shore,
When the Winds whistle, and the Tempests roar?
Here also you find the Allegory finely pursued throughout; yet not so scrupulously, as not to depart a little from it in the fourth Line,
And Fortune's
Favour
fills, &c.
May I here be permitted to say that one of
Gay
's Songs, in his
Beggar's Opera,
contains as perfect an Allegory as can any where be found? The most minute Scrutiny can scarce mark a Deficiency.
I'm like a
Skiff
on the
Ocean tost,
Now
high,
now
low,
with each
Billow
borne,
With her
Rudder
broke, and her
Anchor
lost,
Deserted and all forlorn.
But the poetical Beauties of the
Beggar's Opera
are too generally overlooked, either through an Attention to the Musical Part, or that the Piece itself is considered as merely ludicrous, rather than a Composition of exquisite Satire, Poetry, Wit, and Humour.
From Allegory there is an easy Transition to little proverbial Sayings, and to Fables, which are but Allegories worked up into a Story. Our
Saviour
's Parables are of this Kind, exactly in Character, and obvious to every Understanding.
Aesop,
it is true, takes the Liberty to make Birds and Beasts speak, but, barring that, he always adheres to Character. There ought to be a Moral couched in all Fables, or to no Purpose are they spoke or written.
Comparisons, proverbial Speeches, Parables and Fables, may be easily converted, the one into the other.
Sometimes the Moral is expressed, sometimes understood. By some Writers it is set in Front, as by
Fontaine
; by some, at the End, as by
Aesop
; and occasionally it is placed in the Middle of the Work.
Those moral Sentences which we find so frequently interspersed in
Homer, Virgil, Milton,
&c. before, in the Middle, or at the Close of some interesting Narration, are entirely in the Nature of Morals to a Fable.
I shall throw a little Illustration on these Points, particularly relative to proverbial Sentences and Phrases, and then release my dear Scholar.
We have a Proverb in
Scotland,
Cocks are free of Horse-Corn;
meaning to imply that People are liberal or profuse of what belongs to another.
Again, we have,
Use a Cat to the Churn, and she will call i
Custom;
signifying, if you accustom your Servants, or other Folks, to make frequent Use of what is yours, they will think, at last, that they have acquired a Right to it.
How easily now may these be changed into a Comparison! for Instance,
As a Cat that has been allowed,
&c.—
As a Cock, that sits in a Manger,
&c. —or into a Fable, as,
A Widow had a favourite Cat, whom she indulged
and so on. These simple Examples clearly shew how closely the Figures are allied.
A Fable or Story may be either true or false, it matters not which, so that a Moral accompanies it, and flows naturally from it.
Here follows a Quotation from Spenser, where a Fable, Comparison, and Moral, are finely wrought up together.
As when a weary Traveller, that strays
By muddy Shore of broad sev'n-mouthed Nile,
Unweeting of the per'lous wand'ring Ways,
Doth meet a cruel, crafty Crocodile,
Which, in false Grief hiding his harmful Guile,
Doth weep full sore, and sheddeth tender Tears,
The foolish Man, that pities, all this while,
His mournful Plight, is swallow'd anawares,
Forgetful of his own, who minds another's Cares.
In the foregoing Part of this Letter, I observed that
Aesop,
though he makes his feigned Persons, that is, his Birds and Beasts, converse and reason, yet he always preserves Character. One Minute's Patience more, while I illustrate this. His first Fable affords me the Means.
A Dog, with a Piece of Meat in his Mouth, looking into a Pool of Water, imagines he there sees another Dog, with a Piece of Meat in his Mouth; he snatches at that, and thereby loses his own.
This is all very natural to a Dog, and a plain Moral is to be deduced; namely; that we give up Certainty for Hope, when we greedily grasp at having too much.
The Reverse of this Rule of preserving Character is
Dryden
's Fable of the
Hind
and
Panther.
He has wholly departed from it. His Hind and Panther set forth at first in Kind, I allow; but in the Sequel, he makes them reason and dispute about Fathers and Councils, the Church, and the
Pope,
School-Divinity, Infallibility, and the Lord knows what. He then introduces a whole Flock of Birds, and characterizes them all as Men. The
Buzzard
was the famous Dr.
Burnet,
who was Bishop of
Salisbury.
Dryden
has been justly censured for this Inconsistency; for say the Critics, in Support of their Accusation,
Suppose a Colonel of Horse had thrown up his Regiment in foolish Hope of getting a higher Command, and was disappointed,
Aesop's Fable might aptly be applied to him; but it would be absurd to say,
The Dog seeing another Dog in the Water, with a Piece of Meat in his Mouth, dropped the Piece in his own Mouth, and snatched at the other, and so lost his
Regiment of Horse.
This were to confound the Allusion with the Story alluded to, the Moral with the Fable.
I question whether I need trouble you with the Catachresis or no; however I will be brief.
Catachresis is the Abuse or over-straining a Figure. One Species of it is, when, through the Want of proper, we use improper Terms; for Example, a
Glass-Inkhorn,
or a
Silver Smoothing-Iron.
Parricide is properly the Murderer of one's Father, but in Default of better Powers of Expression, we apply the Name to one who has murdered, either his Mother, Brother or Sister.
Longinus
censures some Writer for calling a Hillock a
Wart. Quintilian
has given many Instances of this, and even from
Virgil
; some of them very beautiful; but when the Image is beautiful, I think it can not with Propriety be called a Catachresis.
Blackwell
pronounces the following Passage from
Milton
to be such;
Down thither prone in Flight
He speeds, and thro' the vast aetherial Sky
Sails between Worlds and Worlds.
This is when he describes the Descent from Heaven of the Arch-Angel,
Raphael.
I am not of his Opinion; the Idea is supremely sublime, but not overstrained.
Statius,
describing a general Silence and Quiet, says,
The weary Mountains nodded their Heads;
And the Seas rested or slept, leaning against the Shore.
I forgot to mention the 29th Ode of
Horace,
in his 3d Book; it is finely imitated by
Dryden
; there he begins with Fortune as a Goddess, then allegorizes her into a Bird, and lastly runs into another long Allegory of sailing in a Storm.
The next Time I write, I shall shew the Difference between Tropes and Figures, and then, in Compassion to your wondrous Patience, quit the Subject.
Bless you, my dear Nancy!
I am ever yours J. P.
LETTER CXXIII.
Oxon,
Dec.
19, 1743.
Dear Nancy,
ONE Thing I advanced was, that in
Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Milton,
&c. the Moral is often placed in the Middle of the Story. Such Insertions are called Sentences, or short moral Reflections.
When
Turnus
kills
Pallas,
in the tenth Book of the
Aeneid,
and is exulting in the Victory he has obtained, the Poet, in the very Heart of his Story, breaks forth into this Reflection.
Dark to Futurity, and blind to Fate,
Are mortal Minds, indocile to observe
Due Measure, when elated with Success."
Dr. Trapp.
In the Beginning of the twelfth Book of the
Iliad, Homer
tells us in one Line, "The Grecian Wall was built without Sacrifices to the Gods;" in the next Line, he says, "Without the good Will of the Gods;" and immediately thereon adds,
Without the Gods how short a Period stands,
The proudest Monument of mortal Hands!
The Meaning here is exactly the same with that In Psalm cxxvii. I.
Except the Lord build the House, they but labour in vain who build it.
Where, by the Way, you may remark the strong and figurative Turn of the Eastern Language; we should, probably, phrase it, "Without
God's Assistance,"
but they more emphatically call it
"God's own Doing."
There is a short, but noble, Reflection in the Story of
Calisto
in
Ovid
's Metamorphoses.
Calisto,
before she was dishonoured by
Jupiter,
was always at the Side of
Diana,
but, after that disgraceful Event, she declined the Freedom, and lagged behind her; whereon the Poet exclaims,
How in the Look does conscious Guilt appear?
Slowly she mov'd, and loiter'd in the Rear,
Nor lightly tripp'd, nor by the Goddess ran,
As once she us'd, the Foremost of the Train;
Her Looks were flush'd, &c.
Addison.
Having illustrated this Point, as far I think necessary, I am tempted, from the foregoing Quotation, to make a short Digression. A most excellent Lesson, my dear Nanoy, may fairly be deduced from the Story of
Calisto
; no doubt, the Author meant it.
Thus then it stands. An artful, practiced, general Lover (such was
Jove
's Character) can assume any, and every Appearance to effect his Purpose; the more contradictory to what he really is, the better his Fraud is concealed.
Jove
assumes the Appearance even of
Diana,
by which the Poet means, that the Lover may wear the Mask of the most delicate Chastity, till he finds an Opportunity to throw it off, and resume the
Jove.
How this is to be guarded against, is also nicely insinuated by
Ovid.
He seems to say,
Never suffer yourself to listen to the specious Discourses of that Lover, who wishes to separate you from the Virgin Throng, in whose Company you are safe, or from your Protectress, the real
Diana,
and lead you to private Walks and secret Groves,
as the Author phrases it. The poor
Calisto,
you see, meant no Ill, but she had thrown herself
out of Protection.
The more plausible and specious a Lover appears, the more dangerous he really is. Every virtuous Woman shudders at a professed Libertine; but you remember the Moral to the
Chaperon rouge,
my dear Nancy, which you translated at seven Years old,
Helas! qui ne sçait que ces Loups doucere
x
De tous les Loups sont les plus dangereux!
and there is really but one Test to be made of this
human Wolf
; namely, will he suffer his Address to be made known to your tried and natural Friends, your Parents, or Guardians? If he declines this, and wishes it to be kept secret, then take Heed,
The Wolf, the Wolf's at Hand.
I now proceed to give you, as far as I am able, the Difference between Tropes and Figures.
In the first Place, you are to know that both are occasionally called Figures; and
Quintilian
himself confesses, that the Distinction is very often hard to be ascertained; for some figurative Expressions may belong either to Synecdoche, which is a Trope, or Polyptote, Which is a Figure. The best Distinction then, that I can draw, is this; Trope is a Turning of the proper Sense of the Word into a borrowed, or improper Sense. For Example,
I swell with Rage, or Pride.
A
Figure
is an extraordinary Expression; it consists in the Point, Arrangement, Repetition, or Disposition of Words in a Manner not common.
Trope
comes from a Greek Word, which signifies a Turning or Changing, and is only applied where the
Sense
is turned. When the Turn is in the
Words,
we call it
Figure
; though the Word
Trope
would be as proper to imply
Figure,
but Custom has made it thus; and that is sufficient for our Purpose.
The Tropes are principally what we have been discoursing about, and are chiefly Metaphor, Metonymy, Synecdoche, Irony, Hyperbole, Allegory, Comparison, Sentences or short Morals, Fable or Parable, and Catachresis. These are most necessary to be studied.
Adieu!
Yours very truly, J. P.
LETTER CXXIV.
My dear Nancy,
I Arrived here yesterday was a Week, the Day I proposed, in tolerable Health and Spirits.
I commend you prodigiously, my dear Nancy, for your Anxiety to serve your young Friend. I will assist you to the best of my Ability. I enclose two Letters, which I hope will be of Use, one to Mr. F—, the other to Mrs. K—th. I would have your Friend convey the first, but would request you to deliver the latter yourself. Your speaking to the Point, will, I think, support my Recommendation much, beside that I wish you to be better acquainted with Mrs. K—th. She is a kind-hearted Woman, but very resentful, if she conceives herself to be slighted. Such Extremes are quite in Nature. Our Anger or Indignation at the cooling Friendship of another, rises in Proportion to the Warmth of our own.
I am not very sorry for the Brevity of your Letter of the 21st, but for the Cause of it, and readily acquit you from fuller Writing, till your Mama is better. I will, in the mean Time, write often, not only with a Purpose to amuse, but to improve and serve you the best I can, with a sincere View to your Happiness both here and hereafter. Those who have an Eye only to the first, without considering and regarding the latter, will, as
Tillotson
says, find themselves miserably mistaken, and be, as he well terms them, but
witty Fools
at best.
I wish your Mama better.
Adieu,
ma très chere Nannette!
J. P.
Oxon.
April
23, 1744.
St. George is for England, St. Dennis for France,
Sing Honi soit qui Mal y pense.
LETTER CXXV.
Oxford,
April
30, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
I Have the Pleasure of yours of the 28th, and heartily congratulate you on your Mama being somewhat better. Do not remit your Attention to her, to oblige me. Till she is further advanced in her Recovery, I desire only a Line to tell me how you both go on, and whether your young Friend has been successful in her Application. The Want of a Situation and Protection, at such an early Time of Life, naturally claims our Compassion and Assistance; but I am still further concerned, and anxious for a happy Result in this Business, because I am so entirely pleased to see your Readiness to interest yourself in another's Welfare; and it would grieve me, were this first Effort of a kind Disposition damped or disappointed.
I have not had Time, since my Arrival, to apply to Authors; but if I had, I believe I should forbear to enter upon them minutely, till you are at Liberty to take Part in them.
I hope the young Lady you mention will not suffer that Inattention to her Mother to grow upon her. She should recall herself betimes, or Inattention will too soon become total Negligence, and Disobedience succeed to both. Let her then beware. I never, through Life, saw any Failure in Duty more certainly and constantly meet with a Punishment, than Undutifulness to Parents.
J. P.
LETTER CXXVI.
Oxon.
May
6, 1744.
My Dear,
I Received yours, and thank you for it. I do not expect or desire more than such a short Intelligence, while your Mama continues so ill. You are right not to neglect her in any Point; you owe her more than ever you can repay.
I have been reviewing some of your Letters to-day, and am thence induced to advance a Trifle on this Kind of Correspondence, and the Style necessary for it. Persevere, my dear, in that simple Manner of writing, which you seem to inherit from Nature. Epistolary Correspondence should be as easy as Conversation. Do not suffer an Intimacy with sublime Authors to tempt you out of this plain, humble Manner of expressing yourself. You are an Exception to a very general Rule. It is too much the Custom of young Folks, when once they have dipped into Books, to endeavour at high-flown Language in their Writing. Nothing is so absurd; allowing they express themselves ever so properly, the Expressions are misplaced. They have no Business in a Letter, where every thing should be plain, easy, and concise.
Figure, above all Things, should be avoided in these familiar Discourses. I have known a Novice in Reading and Writing missed by a Simile, so as not to know the Point he first advanced, and another so envelope himself in a Metaphor, as not to be able to find the Way out.
All Errors of this Kind you will be sure to avoid, if you persevere in your own Way. The more you adhere to Simplicity, the nearer you approach to Elegance.
I am,
my dear,
ever yours, J. P.
P.S.
I am going from this Place on Business, which I believe will detain me a Fortnight; so do not wonder if you do not hear from me in that Time; but what you write will be punctually conveyed to me.
Encore, adieu!
LETTER CXXVII.
Oxon.
May
21, 1744.
My Dear,
I Returned last Night. I had yours of the 12th, 16th, and 19th very safe, and am heartily glad your Mother is better. I make no Doubt but you discharged your Duty to her.
I here enclose a Letter for Mr.
Millan,
whose Shop is near
Old Man's Coffee-House,
between
Charing-Cross
and
White-Hall.
It is an Order to deliver you
Spenser,
and any Author beside, that you may fancy, when you are there.
I expect to hear from you more frequently now, as you will have more Time. There are several Portions both of the Holy Scriptures, and the Apocrypha, that I recommended long ago to your Perusal, and which you promised to read attentively. Have you done so? You do not mention them. They are of more intrinsic Value, towards your present Welfare and future Happiness, than all the other Books, I know, put together, and will be ever deemed so by Persons of solid Sense. I will mention one or two Passages, which I have reflected on a thousand Times; and it will be well for you to carry them much in your Mind, for they will never fail.
God
says,
Him that honoureth me will I honour, and whoever despiseth me shall be lightly esteemed.
The next Passage is in the first Book of
Samuel,
Chap. xvi. Verse 7.
For the Lord seeth not as Man seeth; for Man looketh on the outward Appearance, but the Lord looketh on the Heart.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CXXVIII.
Oxon.
June
4, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
Since my last, I have read the chief of
Moliere
's Plays; some of them are indeed but
petites Pieces.
This Week I design to examine
Le Medecin malgré lui, Amphitryon, Le Misantrope,
and
L'Avare.
I propose to read the two last with great Care, as they are reputed two of his finest Plays.
L'Ecole des Femmes
is my great Favourite, and, for a petite Piece,
Les precieuse Ridicules.
I like the
Femmes Sçavantes
mightily.
Le Malade Imaginaire,
was
Moliere
's last Play, and thought by some Critics to be the best he ever wrote. I think, at least, there is more Instruction and Diversion mingled together in this, than in many of his Pieces. The
Misantrope,
perhaps, is the most masterly, but it does not create so much Mirth as some others, and the Characters and Sentiments require great Attention.
I will now set down the Plays which I have read, and which you are not acquainted with.
George Dandin, Tartuffe, Monsieur Pourceaugnac, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, Les Fourberies de Scapin, Les Femmes Sçavanies, Le Malade Imaginaire.
You will find the first, third, fourth, and fifth, very entertaining,
fort enjouées,
as the French say. The second, sixth, and seventh, are very instructing, and will likewise give you great Pleasure, especially the two last.
Moliere
's four great Plays, in my Opinion, are
Le Misantrope, L'Avare, Le Malade Imaginaire,
and
L'Ecole des Femmes.
I think the Character of
Agnes,
in
L'Ecole des Femmes,
and that of
Alceste,
in the
Misantrope,
the two finest he ever drew. The next in Degree is
Arnolphe
in
L'Ecole des Femmes.
The two Brothers,
Ariste
and
Sganarelle,
in
L'Ecole des Maris, Madame Pernelle
in
Tartuffe,
the two
precieuses Ridicules, Sosie
in
Amphitryon, Harpagon
and the
Commissaire
in
L'Avare,
are all finely drawn; not but there are many others well executed, but these strike me most, and must have cost him great Pains to paint, as their Excellence consists not only in their being truly just and natural, but they are withal nicely and highly finished.
Some of his Pieces are of the Opera-Kind, especially
L'Isle D'Amour,
and
Princesse d'Elide, Psyche,
and
Melicerte,
which last is a pastoral heroic Comedy.
These which you have read are the best, excepting only
Le Malade Imaginaire.
The
Bourgeois Gentilhomme,
and
Monsieur de Pourceaugnac,
will divert you much;
George Dandin, Les Fourberies de Scapin,
and
La Contesse D'Escarbagnas,
will likewise give you some Pleasure. All which I have now gone through I did read formerly, except the
Contesse D'Escarbagnas.
She is a silly, vain, affected Woman of Quality, who had been once in her Life at
Paris,
for about two Months, which runs mightily in her Head. She has some Resemblance of Lady
Plyant,
but, in my Opinion, is not so well drawn.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
P. S.
I write down such particular Phrases as I think worth remarking. I hope you do the same; it will much increase your Knowledge of the Language.
LETTER CXXIX.
Oxon.
June
8, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
I Have the Pleasure of yours of the 5th of this Month. Our Opinions of
Moliere,
I see, are pretty nearly alike, and I am not displeased to see it.
There is a Poem of
Moliere
in Commendation of
Mignard
's Painting in a Church at
Paris.
It is called
La Gloire du Dome du Val de Grace,
but this I have not yet read.
This Week I have gone through
L'Etourdi, Don Juan, Le Depit amoureux, Les Amans Magnifiques,
and
L'Ombre de Moliere. L'Etourdi
is the first Play he wrote. The chief Entertainment of this Piece consists in the Address and Contrivance of the Servant being perpetually overturned by the Blunders of his Master. Though the latter promises again and again not to meddle in the Schemes of the former, yet his Vanity and Self-Sufficiency still prompt him to interfere anew, and ruin the whole. We see, in the Servant, that a Pride to have his Plots succeed induces him to be constant to his Master, rather than his Love and Fidelity; and, at the last, the Scheme succeeds more by good Luck, than any other Circumstance. All this is very judiciously hit off by the Author; but to make the Servant talk to his Master in the most sarcastical Strain, and ever and anon call him Beast and Fool, is beyond all Bounds of Propriety and Decorum.
Don Juan
is dreadfully destroyed by Thunder and Lightning, and the Earth swallows him, which Fate is, in a Manner, foretold to him by an Apparition. Nothing can end more tragically, yet
Moliere
calls it a Comedy.
Juan
's Character is horridly fine, and consistent throughout;
bien soutenû,
as the French express it. He is brave, fierce, excessively passionate, not devoid of Sense or Wit, but a most abandoned Wretch. The Moral of the Play is good, and there are some very diverting Scenes; particularly one with a Merchant, who comes to dun
Juan
for Money; whence Mr.
Congreve,
I surmise, took the Hint of the Scene, to the same Effect, between
Valentine
and
Trapland.
The Sentiments and Dialogue of the
Depit amoureux
are good; the Character of Women given by
Gros-renè
to his Master, is very entertaining; and though there is no Excess of Wit or Humour in the Piece, yet it is the best-conducted Plot in all
Moliere.
The Manner whereby he winds all his Personages out of their Difficulties engages the Attention wonderfully, and conveys a Pleasure rather from the Result of the whole, than from Particulars. I would therefore, my Dear, have you read it with great Attention.
There is no great Matter in the
Amans Magnifiques,
yet it is entertaining; but the Interlude after the second Act, a sort of little pastoral Drama, is, I think, one of the finest Things I ever saw, in that Way. It is simple, natural, and perfectly suited to the pastoral Character. The Song of
Tircis,
which is called the first Scene, and that of
Caliste,
which is the third, are tender and natural beyond Expression, and the rest entirely accord with them.
Le Malade Imaginaire
is admirably fine; but herein
Moliere
has been much blamed for attacking Physic as an Art. In his other Plays, say they, he attacks Quackery, and the Abuse of that Art; but here he attacks Physic itself, and represents the very Science as an Imposition on Mankind. I am afraid there is something of this too true, in the Conversation between the Miser and his Brother.
L'Ombre du Moliere
is a
petite Piece.
It was written by one
Brecourt,
who was an Actor under
Moliere.
The Plan is this—The Ghosts of many of those Personages, whom
Moliere
had turned into Ridicule, come to
Pluto,
in the other World, to complain of him. The whole is pretty well executed, in particular the Character of the
Doctor
; but I cannot, by any Means, perceive a Reason for introducing the Ghost of
Nicolle
in the
Bourgeois Gentilhomme.
Adios,
ma chere Nannette!
J. P.
LETTER CXXX.
Oxon.
June
28, 1744.
I Have now read
Moliere's Plaisirs de L'Isle Enchantée,
with the
Princesse d'Elide,
which is a Part of it. It costs a World of Pains to read it through, and it is of that Species, which gives more Pleasure by being considered all together, than in its particular Parts. There is something remarkably fine and natural in the Character and Behaviour of the
Prince d'Hague,
and the
Princesse d'Elide,
and proves the Author well understood Humankind. But I shall not enter into it minutely, that I may not forestall your Pleasure. It will cost you some Pains in reading, but is worth them all, only to consider those two Characters thoroughly. They are not only perfectly well drawn, but withal very instructive. I think the Character of
Moron
rather unnatural. It is both in Verse and Prose, and there is something in each, not to be found in the other, which deserves well to be read; it will therefore cost you a double Application. If you will mark down Phrases and Words, which are new to you, you will find the Advantage of it. When you have examined these very carefully, we will discourse on the particular Beauties.
Since I left
Moliere,
I have applied myself again to
Horace.
I have gone through all his Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry, the two first Books of his Odes, and half of the third. It is much to be lamented, that this inimitable Author is not well translated. I do not know where there are more excellent Instructions for the Conduct of human Life. At present, I shall only recommend to your Perusal the second and eighteenth Epistles in the first Book, and the tenth Satire, in the second Book. Howbeit in any Translation, they must fall infinitely short of the poetical Beauty of the Original, yet the good Sense contained in them will shine through any Disguise.
J. P.
LETTER CXXXI.
Oxon.
July
13, 1744.
YOU desire my Opinion of
Moliere.
One general Complaint is, that he mixes too much Farce with his Plays. I own, I think so too.
Boileau
has noticed
Geronte
in the Sack in the
Fourberies of Scapin.
The
Bourgeois Gentilhomme
ends in a mere Farce and a most extravagant one too. The Dispute between the two Servants about letting in their Master, is quite a Farce; so is
Toinette
's acting the Part of the
Doctor
in the
Malade Imaginaire
; nor can I perceive why it is introduced. There are many more Instances of this Kind in his Plays. Those who defend him say he was compelled to this by the Humour of the Time; that he had to please the Town, as well as the
Sçavants,
the People of Taste and the Court; and that the Success of his Pieces depended on the first Set of Hearers, as well as the others. In Truth, I think this no bad Defence, and, it must be allowed, that these Scenes would, in a Farce, be very entertaining.
Some say his Language is not perfectly pure. I will not pretend to decide in that, but the different Characters he brings in ought to be considered; for Example, in the
Bourgeois Gentilhomme,
when he introduces a
Gasconne,
and a
Picarde,
should he not make them speak the
Patois
of their respective Countries? Moreover as many of his Plays are not only in Verse, but in Rhyme, this might be a Constraint, and oblige him often to use uncouth and obsolete Words.
The greatest Objection to
Moliere
is still behind; and that is, that there is sometimes a sort of Deficiency, in the
Denouement
of his Plot. This Objection was made by the great
Monsieur Le Clerc;
and I think this is not only true respecting the unravelling of the Story, but, in several of his Plays, I think his Plot is not conducted with all the Address in the World, and that it is even too loosely put together.
Congreve
's Plots are admirably conducted, and if they have any Fault, it is, that they are so closely woven, that, unless we consider them very narrowly, the Contexture will escape us; but then they add great Beauty and Grace to the Piece, when unfolded and brought in View. This is particularly evinced in his
Way of the World,
where every thing is judiciously linked together, and each Incident arises naturally out of the other. In my next, I shall send my Thoughts on
Moliere
's Beauties, which greatly exceed his Faults.
My humble Service to your Mama and Aunt, et restez bien assurée que je suis fort de vos Amis.
J. P.
LETTER CXXXII.
Oxon.
July
19, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
I AM favoured with yours of the 18th instant, and shall answer the latter Part of it first.
Those People, whose Description you have noted, are the antient
Belgians,
and their Neighbourhood, which contains
Holland, Flanders,
and the rest of the
Low Countries,
the Archbishoprick of
Triers, Liege, Juliers, Cleve,
and
Berg.
You will understand such Descriptions better, if you will apply to a Map of
Europe.
Beside that it is useful to point out the Situation of Places, it will make your reading more pleasant. By these Means you will see how our Armies abroad lie, what Way they march, what Towns are besieged and taken. When we hear News, or read History, and have no Knowledge of the Situation of Towns, Countries, Rivers, Seas,
&c.
we receive little Pleasure, and less Instruction, from what we hear and read.
It is reported that Elephants never lie down to sleep, on Account of the Stiffness of their Joints, which makes them unable to rise; therefore, when they are inclined to sleep, they lean against a Tree. The Indians, in order to catch them, saw the Tree half asunder, or more, which giving Way, the Beast falls. This, perhaps, is fabulous, for they have much better Methods to catch them; but the Story may serve well enough to build a Simile upon.
I think the Simile of Night exceeding fine, but defective; you should consider, it is not Night only, but Silence also that he is describing.
Virgil
takes in the Winds and Waves, the silent March of the Stars;
The Winds no longer whisper thro' the Woods,
Nor murm'ring Tides disturb the gentle Floods,
The Stars in silent Order march'd around,
And Peace, with downy Wings, was brooding on the Ground.
This is Part of the Description only, and infinitely short of the Original; it is in the fourth Book of the
Aeneid.
The last of these Lines contains, in the Original, but four Words, and literally translated, signifies, "When every Field held its Tongue." What
Dryden
calls
To haunt the Woods, or swim the weedy Pool,
is in
Virgil,
which inhabit the Country, that is rough with Shrubs and Bushes, and the wide-extended liquid Lakes.
Virgil
gives us none but beautiful Ideas. Why does
Tasso
present us with
the Serpent's Hiss, and Dragon's Cry?
I own they are natural, but they are also frightful, and, as
Shakespeare
says, they
make Night hideous.
Virgil
makes every thing to be at Rest, but
Dido.
It was for her Sake the Description was brought in; and the Excess of her Passion and Distress is vastly heightened by the beautiful Picture of every thing being at Rest, except herself.
Tasso
makes all at Rest, but the Music of the Spheres. This is injudicious. What has the Music of the Spheres to do here? It is an old, idle Fancy; besides, as
Hudibras
says, We hear it not; why then was it excepted? or how can a Noise, which is not heard, lull the World to Rest? I give you this as a Specimen of the superior Judgment of
Virgil,
and the Beauty that arises therefrom; notwithstanding I allow, that
Tasso
's Description, with these Abatements, has its Merit. If you would read
Bossu
carefully, especially his Contrast of
Virgil
and
Statius,
you would see how natural and judicious the former is, and how much the latter falls short of him.
J. P.
LETTER CXXXIII.
Oxon.
July
21, 1744.
Dear Nancy,
YOU ask my Advice in many Points, wherein I think you are able perfectly to direct yourself. Your Conduct, in general, is very satisfactory to me, and I believe, to your Mama; however, to the best of my Ability, I will comply with your Request, and it will be no Burthen to have two or three spare Rules by you.
In one Part of your Letter, you desire a Plan to live by. I never could live by a Plan myself, consequently am unfit to lay down one to you; and I love my own Liberty too well, to abridge that of other People.
I believe one very general Error in young Folks is a too great Readiness to make Acquaintance. This ought to be most warily guarded against. Much of our Happiness, Reputation, end Welfare, depends upon the Choice of Intimates.
A proper Division of Time is another very material Point. I am as much a Friend to innocent Recreations, as to Business. The only Nicety is to steer between too close an Application to the latter, and an Excess in the former. Your little Neighbour, Miss D—, will live to repent her ill Custom of sitting up late at Night, and loitering a-bed in the Morning. Few Things are more prejudicial to Business, Reputation and Health. A thousand Inconveniencies are entailed, which are not dreamed of at first. She might break herself of it easily now, and may find it very hard some Years hence. I once loved it as well as she does, yet I got over it, and now rise every Day between six and seven.
A proper Division of Time preserves us from being hurried at one Time, and made languid and weary at another; it gives a
Gout
to Diversion, and makes Business sit light and easy.
A proper Choice of Companions, at your early Time of Life chiefly, is of the utmost Consequence. There is great Truth in the old Proverb,
A Man is esteemed according to the Company he keeps;
for such as our Company is, such, in great Measure, shall we ourselves be. We fall insensibly, and almost unavoidably, into the Manners, Air, Sentiments, and Turn of those Persons, with whom we converse much, especially in our early Years, so that young People cannot be too much on their Guard in this Particular. Our Reputation is also affected by the Company we keep. Is there any thing oftner heard than this, and when nothing else perhaps can be alledged,
Ay, such a young Man, or such a Girl, is very good, but too much in such or such-a-one's Company?
Our Associates therefore should be as good and as wise as may be found, at least, in our own Opinion, and the higher Credit and Reputation they are in, the better still for us.
I am far from dictating or prescribing rigidly. I would not have a Person tied down to a formal Method, to move like a Puppet upon Wires. I am very sensible that Diversion and Company are almost as necessary as Meat, Drink, or Sleep; but I dare say you will agree with me that there are certain Measures, Proportions, and Distributions, in all Sorts of Recreation, as well as Business, which we ought seldom to exceed.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your most affectionate Friend and Servant, J. P.
LETTER CXXXIV.
Oxon.
July
22, 1744.
My Dear,
AS I begin to have but few Franks, I must put two or three Letters into one.
I am ready to answer your Questions about dividing your Time aright, and to give you the best Directions I can on that Point. It is of the greatest Moment to Happiness. Your desiring Information on this Head pleases me much, though, as I said before, I think you do not stand in need of it; however, I will express myself as if you did, that I may give my Meaning more clear, and to the Purpose.
I cannot enter minutely into Particulars; those must occur to yourself, as Circumstances, Times, and Occasions fall out; I shall only observe some general Things, and explain and illustrate them to you in the best Manner I can.
First then, in order to employ Time well, to lay it out to Purpose, and in due Proportions, it must be supposed that you have Time in your Possession. The Question then is, how to purchase a sufficient Quantum, or Measure of Time. This is not so hard for you, now, at least, as for many People, whose Time belongs to others, not to themselves; who perhaps are Masters or Mistresses of Families, who have Ware-Houses, or Shops to look after, or some other Charge, that requires great Portions of their Time. Be that as it may, a certain Stock of Time is necessary for Business, for Improvement, and for all the necessary Functions of Life; Eating, Drinking, Sleeping, and even Recreation and Diversion; for these are necessary too; but always in Order to qualify us for some better and more important Purposes; and are to be used as Means to attain some End we aim at, and not as the Things themselves.
How then are we to purchase this
Stock of Time?
Without this by us, our Time, however judiciously distributed, will not answer. For Example, if I have but a Crown to go to Market with, and must necessarily have Things to the Value of a Guinea, let me lay out my Money ever so prudently, it will not serve my Purpose. Herein is evinced the vast Necessity of purchasing as great a Fund of Time, as we can.
To this Purpose I know no one particular Thing so conducive, as rising early.
We then have the whole Day before us, can dress in Time, breakfast in Time, go abroad or stay at Home, as Affairs demand; if the former, we are sure of meeting People at the ordinary Hours of Meals, Business, or Diversion; beside, the Mind is more fresh, active, and strong to apply to Study, or any other Employment that requires us.
An Hour in the Morning is worth three in the Afternoon,
is a common Proverb, and I never knew a truer. The Light, Heat, and Air of the Day is much more healthy and chearful than the cold dark Damps, and Inconveniency of the Night. The brute Creation teaches us this. The dumb Creatures retire early to Rest, and get up betimes, to busy themselves in Quest of Food, or in bringing forth, or bringing up their Young, or in providing for the Winter. Nature instructs them that the Light and Warmth of the Sun makes that the Time of Business; but if we will sit up in the Dead, and Damps, and Darkness of the Night, exposed to the Vapours of that unwholesome Season, we must lie late, and thereby lose a great Part of the proper Time for Business or Study; we must breakfast when others dine, dine when others sup, and sup when they sleep; so that our Time is, as I may say, quite disjointed, and can never hit or square with the Times of Business, Meals, or Visits of other People. By these Irregularities, every Thing goes to Disorder and Confusion; and beside the Loss of so much Time, (and that the proper Time) the Indolence and Inactivity, that late-sitting-up and late lying-a-bed creates, renders us quite unfit and unapt for making Use of the Residue of Time left for Action.
Dr.
Swift
has painted this so just and strong in one of the Poems, which I copied out for you, that I need not expatiate further on it.
Would not a Merchant be laughed at for a Fool or Madman, who should loiter away his Time till the Exchange were shut, a Minister till the Time of Divine Service were past, a Lawyer till the Courts were up, or a Physician till the Patient were past Recovery, or dead? It is just as ridiculous and foolish in us, to mis-time, time the common Affairs, and Business of Life.
Solomon,
I think, says,
The slothful Man ploweth in Harvest;
meaning that he mis-times his Affairs, and neglects to sow his Grain, till others are going to reap theirs.
Another Means of purchasing Time, is, when we foresee a Crowd of Things coming on us together, and that we shall be hurried, to steal some Time before hand, if we can, to do some Part of it, or block it, as we say, and prepare it so that it may become more easy and light.
I have a great Number of Affairs to do to-morrow; I foresaw them yesterday. I therefore chose to let Mr.
L
— make a Visit then. I seized the Time, I had yesterday Afternoon to myself. I have wrote several Letters, which are not to go till to-morrow; have put my Papers in Order, and made a Beginning, in having dispatched all preparatory Work. I only mention this, to illustrate to you what I mean.
I shall give you the Respite of a Day or two, before I pursue this Matter. What I have to say further will be easily discussed.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CXXXV.
Oxford,
July
29, 1744.
My Dear,
I Am very well pleased with your judicious Remarks on
Tasso.
I knew you did not prefer
Tasso
's Description of Night to that of
Virgil,
though I thought proper to observe the Difference of the Choice of Circumstances therein in those two Poets.
I wrote to you in my last about the Purchasing of Time, and shall here add the following Observation; leaving what I have to say farther on the Distribution of Time to another Occasion. A particular Piece of Business will prevent me for a While.
What signifies getting Time enough, without being able to use it? If we are lazy, indolent, or indisposed, it will be much the same as if we had it not. It will be like earning a good Meal, without a Stomach to digest it, or an Appetite to eat it; so that if we have ever so much Time, and have not Application, or if we are what the French call
dissipé,
it can be of very little Advantage to us.
In order then to fit us for the right Employment of Time, our Mind ought to be cool and serene, our Thoughts clear, our Spirits in Vigour, but undisturbed, and not in a Flurry. The Means to attain this Disposition is to endeavour to be in good Health of Body. There is a strange Sympathy and Connection between the Body and Mind; the one is seldom well, when the other is out of Order. I am not going to prescribe to you as a Doctor; not being skilled in that Profession; but certainly Regularity and Moderation, in Eating, Drinking, Sleep, Exercises, Study, Business, and Diversions, are the best Means of preserving Health, and consequently of attaining an Easiness and Calm of Mind, joined with Clearness and Strength of Thought.
But there are some other Things, that incapacitate us for Study or Business, which arise from the Mind itself. All immoderate Passions, such as Grief, Anger, too earnest Desires, an inordinate Pursuit of Pleasure, or Trifles, and setting a too high Value on them, all these dissipate our Minds, unnerve and weaken them; and at last sink them, leaving nothing but the Dregs of Thought behind.
Another Consideration should make us still more careful to avoid whatever impairs or destroys our Health of Body, or the Faculties of our Mind. The Body and Mind do not only act upon, and affect one another mutually, but they re-act again and again upon each other; like a Ball tossed to and fro, forward and backward, in a Tennis-Court; Grief, Rage, Envy, or any other violent Passions, do not only disturb and distract the Mind, but they affect the Health; when the Health is affected, these Passions become more violent, and less supportable; these Passions, when become more violent, give a new Wound to the Health, which adds fresh Force, or, at least, more Malignity, to the Passions, and so on reciprocally; and if
God,
out of his infinite Goodness, had not given us such Constitutions, as sometimes to get the better of all this,
we do not know how,
this Action and Re-action would certainly destroy us; indeed, it very often does.
I shall refer the Remainder to my next, and am,
dear Nancy,
yours most affectionately, J. P.
LETTER CXXXVI.
Oxon.
Aug.
2, 1744.
Dear Nancy,
I Have written you my Thoughts, in the best Manner I can, about purchasing Time, and how that Time may not be useless, by our being in an unfit Disposition to use it. The Question now is, how that Time ought to be distributed, laid out, or bestowed.
There are two or three general Rules I would have you observe.
First, reckon with yourself, how much Time such or such a Thing may take, then how much such another Thing, and so on, and divide and distribute your Time accordingly.
But then in the next, or rather in the first Place, you ought to make a sort of Calculation or Reckoning of how many Things you have to do; as for Example, to-day, or to-morrow, and forecast in your Mind, in what Order you will do them.
Then consider what Time is most proper for the one, and what for the other; what in the Morning, what in the Afternoon,
&c.
By all Means, consider what is most necessary, what is most valuable, what deserves most Time. Common Sense, and the universal Consent of the World, allow that these are to be most minded; so that if you have Time, the greatest Portion of that, as well as of Care, Pains, Application, and Study, are to be laid out on Things that deserve it best, or that we are most interested in, or what must be necessarily done; and if, in Spite of all our Endeavours, we have not Time enough, and are hurried, we ought always to prefer what is most necessary and most valuable.
Some People, when hurried either unavoidably, or through their own Fault, will leave nothing undone, but do a little of every thing, and so slubber their Affairs, that nothing is done to the Purpose; whereas it would have been much better in that Hurry, to have left the less necessary Things absolutely untouched, till another Occasion.
The Purchase of Time will put us out of the Necessity of being hurried; being in good Health and Spirits will double Time, and keep us from being languid; forecasting the Particulars will keep us from an Uncertainty and Irresolution of what we are to do.
The due Distribution of Time, and chusing the most proper Seasons, is necessary to doing Things well and effectually.
The Preference of Things, or Studies, that are most necessary, valuable, or profitable, will always make our Business and Study most advantageous to us.
To this I shall add, that in Things indifferent, we ought to consult our Bent and Humour; if it is not inclined to what is trifling, or worse, to what our Genius is fittest for. We shall assuredly learn much more, and more to the Purpose, when we apply to what we have a Turn for, than to what is
against the Grain.
I only hint these Points to you, without expatiating on them, which indeed I have not Time for at present, nor do I think it needful. Your own good Sense will see into the Truth of them, and reflect and enlarge upon them.
I own, such is human Frailty, that we cannot, at all Times, come up to the strict Observance of them, even with all our Endeavours; but we should surely strive to do it, in the Main, and as forcibly as we are able.
I own too, that Sickness, Indisposition, unforeseen Accidents, Visits, Avocations, and Interruptions of many Sorts, and even Business itself, will break in on these Rules; but they ought not surely to be wholly neglected, because they cannot be precisely kept.
These Rules are general, and will always hold true, at least, in my humble Opinion; and if they always hold true, we should always endeavour to keep to them, with those Allowances above. I do not think I need trouble you with any more of this Kind, nor indeed do I immediately recollect any; but there are some particular Things, which, in a long Course of Time, I have observed; these are a sort of
Knacks,
if I may call them so, of studying, or doing Business in an useful Way. Every Man, I suppose, has some of those peculiar to himself, and there may be many which I never heard of; but such as have been observed by me I shall make the Subject of my next Letter; and I am confident, from Experience, that they cannot fail of being very serviceable to any Person, who pleases to practise them.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your affectionate Friend, J. P.
LETTER CXXXVII.
Oxon.
Aug.
7, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
I Received yours of the 4th of this Month, with which I am very well pleased.
I would fain give you a true Idea of the Importance of the few Rules or Directions which I offered you in my late Letters.
Consider then that our Time is limited; we have but a certain Portion of Time to live, and even That of the longest Liver is but very short. How great a Part of it is taken up in Eating, Drinking, Sleeping, Dressing, Company, Avocations, Interruptions, and many other Functions of Life, that are necessary and indispensable, or, at least, unavoidable! Add to these, Indisposition, Sickness, the Decays of old Age, and the Cares of Life, which grow upon us daily.
But if we were to live ever so long, pray consider that our Understandings and Memories are limited, and are very short and imperfect; even those Persons, whose Memories are strongest and most tenacious, can retain but very few Things, in Comparison with what they see, hear, read, and observe. Many Things slide out of our Memories, some sooner, others later, and many make no Impression at all.
In like Manner, our Understandings are limited; some can comprehend more, others less; but the highest Pitch, that human Understanding can fly to, is but very low. There are moreover Thousands of Things, that, if we should rack our Understandings ever so much, we can never attain to the Knowledge and Comprehension of; they lye without the Sphere and Province of our Conception, or, as Mr.
Locke
expresses it,
beyond the Length of our Tether.
Philosophers say, there are certain Cells in the Brain, some of which are the Seats of our Reason or Understandings, and others of our Memory. Some are more capacious than others; others not so capacious, but hold, what they receive better; however there is but a limited Number, and, when full, they can hold no more; or, at least, new Ideas, when they take Place, justle out the old ones.
If Time were to endure for ever, or very long, we need not be so solicitous of husbanding it well; or, short as it is, if our Understandings and Memories were infinite, or, at least, of a vast Compass, we could do a great deal in a small Space. But as the wise Author of our Being has disposed Things otherwise, ought we not to obey the Limitation he has prescribed us?
To divide and distribute our Time aright, should we not endeavour to be in a Disposition of Mind and Body, to be able to take Time, when Time is, and to chuse fit and proper Periods for acting, and when we are disposed and capable to use Time?
Ought we not to prefer what is proper, useful, worthy and necessary, to that which is less so? much more to Trifles, (unless for Diversion or Recreation) and, most of all, to what is bad, hurtful, or vicious?
If you, or I, or any one else, waste Time in reading useless Books, or in some impertinent Thing or frivolous Employ, the idle Ideas we lay up justle, or keep out, as many good and wholesome ones; if they slide away, and leave Room for better, which is the best that can befall us in such a Case, we have, at least, lost so much Time; but if they fix on our Memory and Understanding, then indeed our State is doubly miserable. I still except necessary Recreations, and the particular Trades or Business, wherein we are brought up, and by which we must get a Livelyhood; many whereof are in themselves trifling enough, but then they are necessary, as being the Means of Subsistence.
Now if the proper Times and particular Seasons of Application, and when we are fit and capable to apply, are to be watched and taken, how much more is the Time of Life, in general, which is fittest for us, and to which we are best suited, to be well and diligently applied? I mean, the Time of our Youth, when the Journey of Life is before us, when we have most Leisure, before we are engaged in the Cares and Concerns of the World we are to struggle through; when our Minds are most pliable, and when we receive the deepest and most lasting Impressions; when we have a certain Facility both of taking up Things, and retaining them—On all Accounts, therefore, Youth is the most proper Season to lay in a Fund for carrying us through the World with Comfort, and Joy, and Innocence, and Credit. How many Wretches do we see of both Sexes, who, for Want of this Precaution and Provision, lead miserable and disgraceful Lives, and come to an untimely and shameful End!
There is one Thing in regard to the Narrowness of our Understanding, which give me Leave to mention to you.
Some Things are hard, and require much Attention to be comprehended aright. If these Things are necessary, or worth our While, the Difficulty ought not to frighten us; but if they are otherwise, we should not break our Heads about them. Some have a Genius for one Thing, some for another; and it is wonderful to observe how ready and able some People are to learn some Things, and how hard it is to make them comprehend others, which one would think much easier.
Pope
has treated this with great Justice, somewhere in his Works; I think it is in the fourth Book of his
Dunciad.
He laughs at the Practice of our Schools and Colleges, where they set every Boy to the making of Verses, without considering whether he has Talents for it or no.
I have been often told that the Jesuits abroad take a quite different Method with their Pupils. They carefully study the Temper and Turn of Mind, and when they have discovered that, they then set them to that which their Genius is most suited to.
But some Things lie quite out of the Reach of our Understanding. All the natural Philosophers, that have been or are now in the World, have not hitherto been able to account for Thousands of Things, that present themselves to us every Day; why, for Example, the Grass is green, the Rose red, the Lily white, the Cowslip yellow, the Violet blue, the Tulip variegated or party-coloured; why a certain Sort of Tree always bears an Apple, another a Pear, a third a Plumb, and so forth, with Millions of other Things. We have but few Faculties, and fewer Senses, which are the Inlets of all Knowledge. All the Descriptions and Definitions that can be made, will never give a Man, who was born blind, the least Idea or Notion of a Colour, or one born deaf, any Notion of Sound. Things being thus, how idle is it in People to puzzle themselves with Objects that lie without the Sphere of their Knowledge or Comprehension! And if it be so in these lesser Matters, how rash is it, with regard to the high and tremendous Mysteries of our Religion, in presuming Men to endeavour to explain them to others, who cannot comprehend them themselves!
Dr.
Sherlock,
Father to the present Bishop of
Salisbury,
did more Hurt to Religion, (at least in my Opinion) though undesignedly, by endeavouring to explain the
Trinity,
than if he had wrote a Treatise against it.
Others presumptuously and prophanely contemn and deride, desperately reject and renounce our Holy Religion, and the sacred Treasures of the Scripture, because, forsooth, they cannot comprehend every thing taught there; as if nothing could be true, but what they could account for; although they see ten thousand Things every Day, that are obvious to their Senses, and yet not one of them can be accounted for by the Wit of all Mankind put together.
Such Scoffers as these would perhaps term what I am saying
Cant
; they have many low Arts and Expressions, to support each other in such vain Tenets, as are not to be justified by Reason. God forbid they should ever affect the sober and meek! Better is it for us to be submissive, teachable, and humble-minded, than to sail along with a Tide of Fools, whose greatest Comfort must be, the Hope of being
Nothing
at last.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
your sincere Friend, and Well-wisher, J. P.
LETTER CXXXVIII.
Oxon.
Aug.
11, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
I Resume my Discourse on the Employment of Time.
Besides the few general Rules, which every Body should observe as much as their Health and Disposition of Mind and Business will allow them, there are some particular Things, which, if observed, will, in my Opinion, tend much to our bestowing Time to Purpose.
But there is one of these general Rules, which I must again recommend, as a certain Knack or Nostrum to make Time pass easily and profitably, and that is what I called
forecasting
what we have to do, or what we design to read or study; for Instance, in the Evening what we are to do next Day, or in the Morning, what we are to do all Day, or for two or three Days to come.
There are many excellent Effects follow on this Method;
First, we find hereby when we shall have a void Space of Time; we can therefore fill it up with something that would oppress us afterwards; or we can beforehand, if we have no Business that will hurry us after, contrive something to do or read, or some Diversion that would encroach too much on Business at another Time, or contrive our Visits so as not to encroach on Business at all.
It would also give us a View of all we had to do, at once, so that we should not only proportion our Time aright, but even chuse the fittest Time for every Branch of our Business and Diversion.
We should moreover not be at a Loss or Doubt, what to do first, or whether to do such a Thing or not. I have often felt, that, when I was surprised with an idle Space of Time, for Want of having forcasted what I was to do, I continued in Doubt and Irresolution, and in a sauntering Disposition, and as much to seek, as when I happened to be surprised with a Hurry of Business, not knowing where or how to begin. This is the Reason that so many People are longer in beginning and falling to Action, than others are in compleating it. Many People have I seen come to a Friend's House, in order to spend an Afternoon, but presently, perhaps, they remembered they had something to do, then away they would go; then, perhaps, change their Minds and come back again, I have seen People go in and out of a Coffee-House, three or four Times in half an Hour; or go, perhaps, along half a Street, then turn short, and go another Way, or turn back. All this comes from not forecasting what they have to do, and not having resolved to do what they have suddenly taken into their Heads.
No Doubt, you have seen all this as well as I, and I do not say that I have not been guilty of it as well as others.
I have been in Company where I have seen People that were for the Park; then for Vaux-Hall, and not the Park; then for neither, but for the Play-House; then not for that, but for the Tavern; yet, at last, went to none of them. My God! how uneasy are these People to themselves, and often to others! All proceeds, I say, from not forecasting Things beforehand, and Want of Resolution to execute what they intend. In short, the good Effects of Forecast are so visible, and the bad Effects of the Want of it so obvious, that I need not longer dwell upon it.
I must refer the rest to my next.
I am,
dear Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CXXXIX.
Oxon.
Sept.
16, 1744.
Dear Nancy,
SINCE I wrote you last, I have been much in the Country, and besides there has been such a Hurry in this Town, with Horse-Races, Balls, Concerts, and a World of Company, that I had not Time to write as I designed.
I have three Letters of yours unanswered, all on the same Subject
Tasso's Jerusalem delivered.
, and am very well pleased with them.
What they call the
Fortunate Islands
is certainly fabulous, as the Gardens of
Alcinous,
the Grotto of
Circe
and
Calypso,
and the
Hesperian
Gardens. Whether any of the Antients found the Way to the
Azores
Islands, or our
Bermudas
Islands, which, it is said, bid fair to answer the poetical Descriptions, is more than we know, or whether they took their Hints from some dark Account of Paradise.
Homer
wrote (his
Odyssey
) near three thousand Years ago,
Tasso,
I believe, not above three Hundred. I cannot conceive why he differs from
Homer,
in his Account of
Ulysses. Lisbon
is reported to have been named so by
Ulysses
; if he really did name it, he must have failed without
Hercules
's
Pillars,
which were at the Straits of
Gibraltar,
as may be seen by the Map.
To-morrow, or next Day, I shall have more Leisure to write, and then you may count to hear from me.
Je suis, toujours,
ma chere Nannette,
votre Ami très sincere, J. P.
LETTER CXL.
Oxon.
Sept.
18, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
TO resume my Discourse on Time— The last Rule, I think, that I wished to be observed, to stop wearisome Gaps in Time, was either to prepare something that we know is before our Hand, or resume something that we had not Time to finish. This is an excellent Method of keeping ourselves from Indolence and Idleness, and forwarding our Business, Study, or Knowledge; and nothing so much contributes to make this easy and practicable, as fore-laying every thing we have to do. When we look before us, we shall see what Time we are like to be disengaged, and then we can provide for the right Use of that Time.
Another Point I would recommend, is as follows. When we have not any thing to prepare beforehand, nor any thing to do that was obliged to be left undone, suppose we were to think of some By-Study, or useful Matter to employ ourselves in, that should touch us but on such Occasions.
For Example, Nancy, what if you, in such a Case, should get the Use of some News-Papers, particularly the General or London Evening Post, read them over, and even the Advertisements? You would there find many Things, of which you have, as yet, perhaps, no Idea. As all
Europe
is now in Motion, you would hereby have a Conception of what is doing, and what you cannot miss to hear talked of; and if you would lay out a Trifle on a Map of
Europe
in general, and of the particular Countries likewise, and consult your Maps for every Thing you read about, it would be a very fine, and no unprofitable, Amusement; for by this Means, and, as it were, by Way of Diversion, you would come to understand Geography, and comprehend what is now so much in the Mouths of all the World. This would give you the Pleasure of understanding what you hear and read, of forming, with some Exactness, an Idea of the Countries and Actions you read of, which none can do, who know not the Situations of Places, where the Scene of Action lies. Such Persons as know not, for Example, where
France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Prussia,
&c. are, whether they lie East, West, North, or South, or how they lie in respect to each other, or whether they are near or far off, what Pleasure can they have in
Prince Charles's
passing and re-passing the
Rhine,
or what Notion can they have of his Marches, and the Marches of his Enemies? Why really, scarce any.
I would not, however, have you be either a great Geographer, or News-Monger; but this would not only be pleasant Amusement in idle Hours, but would enable you to have right Notions and Ideas of Things that are often talked of. Now this, or some such Employ, I would have you set apart only for the Hours you find yourself languid in; but, by no means, let it encroach on the Times of Business, and when you are more necessarily, and more importantly engaged.
There is another Thing, in which Time that lies heavy on our Hands might be still more usefully employed, and that is, in doing some Handy-Work. I have many Times regretted that I never learned to do, or make, some useful Thing or other, to fill up these tedious Intervals. I have known Gentlemen learn to Draw, or Play on some Instrument, or Work at some useful Art, especially
Turning,
which is easily learned; and I have seen a Lady lately sit five or six Hours at making Nets, Flowering or Embroidering. Such Employments as these often turn out advantageous Concerns to those who are not capable of high Pursuits, and are happy Relaxations to those who are.
I am your's very truly J. P.
LETTER CXLI.
Oxon,
Sept.
21, 1744.
Dear Nancy,
I Wrote you three Days ago; what I have more to say will not take up much Time, but I shall spin it out to two Letters.
One Thing earnestly to be recommended, as the Means of making either Study or Business useful and effectual, is to improve the Times and Circumstances, that favour them. There are certain Seasons and Occasions, by, and in, which we can profit more than others. I do not only mean what I wrote formerly about the proper Times of the Day for this or that, and the Times when we find ourselves in the best Disposition, or when the best Opportunities offer, (tho' these are to be greatly noticed) yet I now mean something more.
There are Accidents or Circumstances, that contribute much to make deep Impressions on the Mind and Memory. For Example, when we hear any Thing that is
new
to us; this excites the Curiosity, and is a proper Time to inform ourselves about it. When a Thing is strange or surprising, or when it comes newly in Vogue, or when we hear many People talk about a Book, or other Matter, or commend, or discommend it, or when we hear different Characters of some Circumstance or Author, or when People contest and dispute about any Thing, then the Mind is excited; and such Opportunities of Improvement are never to be neglected, unless the Subject is of no Concern; but even in that Case, People will remember, or be curious to know Things in such Circumstances.
Not only Things that are new, uncommon, or extraordinary, make deep Impressions, but what we learn, hear, read, or do, at such Times, make deep Impressions too. There is a certain Connection of Ideas that I cannot account for, by which they are drawn along, as by a Chain of different Links. You have heard People say,
I remember such a Circumstance very well, because such a Thing happened at that Time, or I was in such a Place.
If we change our usual Place of Residence, or our customary Way of Life, we shall, for some little While, remember better what happened, or what we read, heard, or saw, in that Interval, than what occurs ordinarily; and I have often observed, when I have come to a Place or Company, from which I had been some Time absent, my former Thoughts have then come back into my Mind, tho' perhaps I had never once reflected on them, from the Time I had been before in that Place or Company.
It is for this Reason, that those who teach
the Art of Memory,
lay down this Rule; namely, that
when we have many Things to remember, we should join the Idea of some very known Place, Person, or Circumstance, to the Thing, we would remember
; and we even see People, who never studied Rules, very commonly use this Method. How often have we heard People say,
This, that, or the other Circumstance, will make me remember her such a Particular, or such, or such a Thing recalls it to my Mind.
I am,
my Dear,
Yours sincerely, J. P.
LETTER CXLII.
Oxon,
Sept.
24, 1744.
THE next Thing, I would recommend, is to conquer that Indolence, which some People are, either constitutionally or habitually, encumbered with. I know this is a very hard Lesson, and what I could never absolutely be Master of myself. What is accompanied with Difficulties, or what is not to our Taste, we bring ourselves to do with great Reluctance; and we satisfy ourselves with any Sort of Excuse, to put it off and delay it, from Time to Time. I have often experienced this in myself; but if the Thing we thus fly from, is either necessary or proper, we ought, by all Means, to compel ourselves to do it, and even offer Violence to our Tempers, to overcome this Indolence. The best Method I know for this, is to take the first Opportunity when we are in a proper Disposition, and
to make a Beginning.
Thus all the Poets and Philosophers advise.
Ovid
says, "He, who has made a good Beginning, has half-ended his Business."
"Dimidium, Qui bene caepit, habet."
Horace
and
Perseus
say the same;
Incipe,
that is,
Begin,
is their constant Rule. I will not give you the Translation of a noble Passage from
Horace,
it is so wretchedly rendered, but one of our Poets says, much to the same Purpose,
Begin —
Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise.
There is indeed nothing like making once a Beginning in earnest, for, by little and little, we are reconciled to the Subject and Task. Then Difficulties begin to vanish, at least, they grow smoother and easier by Degrees, especially if we set our Hearts to conquer them; and so, what was once our Aversion, becomes, at last, easy, and often a Pleasure to us.
The next Point to be observed, is to conquer our Curiosity. When we find our Hearts set upon some Reading, Business, or Diversion, that is improper, we should endeavour to master that Passion, and make it submit to our Advantage; otherwise, every new Thing that surprises us, or that we are fond of, will make us break off, and turn away from the Pursuit of what is useful to us.
But in either Case, that is, when our Indolence, Aversion, or Curiosity, is so strong that we cannot conquer it at once, we ought to do it by Degrees. We may be in so unfit a Disposition, that our Struggling can do us no Good, at one Time; then, perhaps, we had better give Way, for that Instant, resolving not to yield it up, but get the better by Degrees. I have been seized with such a strong Curiosity, that if I had not indulged it for that Time, all other Applications had been useless; for Example, on Receipt of some extraordinary News, or Letters long expected, and often on Receipt of Letters from you, that, tho' I had compelled myself not to read them, (which I could have done) yet I could not have done any Thing else to Purpose, 'till I had perused them, so much have they ran in my Head.
I am,
my Dear,
Yours, J. P.
LETTER CXLIII.
Oxen,
Sept.
26, 1744.
Dear Nancy,
THE last Point I would recommend in Study or Business, is what we call
Method.
The chief Rule herein, where the Nature of the Study requires it, is to get a general Idea of our Subject-Matter, in all its different Parts. When we have seen through it, we should range those Parts in some Order, and fix them in our Mind. Thus seen through, the Affair will become much easier. Were we even but learning some new Game at Cards, it may be reasonably imagined that this Method will make us comprehend it much better, and more easily.
Our next Care is to be Master of the chief Difficulties, which will still obstruct our Knowledge, and hang a dead Weight upon us, in the Course of our Studies, if not absolutely mastered. For Instance, in the French Language, those who will not be at the Pains to get the two Auxiliary Verbs
Avoir
and
Etre
perfectly at first, will find a heavy Clog lie upon them, through the whole Study of that Tongue, which will cost them ten Times the Pains, that would be necessary to learn them perfectly at first.
You know yourself that there are some Rules of Practice, which make Things easy; and without which, we may puzzle our whole Life over, without coming to our Purpose, or, at best, spend a long Time, and bestow vast Labour in resolving them. By common Arithmetick we may blacken many Sheets of Paper, and bestow many Hours, nay, even Days, to resolve a Question, which by Decimals or Algebra may be resolved in a few Minutes. But to illustrate this by an Instance familiar to yourself, how many Tricks at Cards have you shewed me, that I could never find out or account for, unless you had pointed out the Method?
I shall take Occasion soon to transcribe the four famous Rules of
Des-Cartes,
and with them shall finish this Subject.
I am,
my dearst Nancy,
yours, J. P.
LETTER CXLIV.
Oxon,
Oct.
2, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
YOU say there is Part of a former Letter, which you do not clearly comprehend; and I can perceive that you think I have given contradictory Rules, though you do not so express yourself. I proceed to explain it.
There is a great Difference between conquering or subduing our Passions, and extinguishing them. It is certainly our Duty to be Masters of our Passions and Appetites, but not to extinguish them, for they were given us by the wise Author of our Nature for excellent Purposes. Without them, we should never be at Pains to do any good or great Action; and therefore when they are subservient to our Reason, they bear the Mind up against Fatigue, Indolence, and In-application; but they make sad Work, when they reign and tyrannize over us. What
Horace
has said of Anger, may be said of every Passion and Appetite. I must give it you in the disadvantageous Translation of
Creech.
Anger it a short Frenzy; curb thy Soul,
And check thy Rage, which must be rul'd, or rule;
Use all thy Art, with all thy Force restrain,
And take the strongest Bit, and firmest Rein.
It is certain, that if we do not get the Mastery of our Passions, they will be our Masters—
They must be ruled, or rule.
Now to apply this to the Difficulty you propose.
It is most certainly a proper Opportunity to learn a Thing, when our Curiosity is excited by some Accident. Then the Application will be vigorous, the Impressions deep, and will continue long. Yet, notwithstanding this,
Reason,
which is the
Image of God
in our Minds, and which distinguishes us from all the lower Creation,
Reason,
I say, should preside and controul.
If the Thing our Curiosity is employed about, is worth our While, we may then give the Reins to our Curiosity; otherwise, let us call in Reason to our Aid; let her keep her Seat, and do her Office. We must then
take our strongest Bit, and firmest Rein.
This is a Metaphor, you see, taken from riding. The Rider is our Reason, the Horse, the Passions; which we must sometimes give the Reins to, sometimes check, sometimes spur and switch, but, at all Times, direct and manage. You perceive all this agrees with what was first said, namely, that the Passions are to be governed, moderated, and subdued, but not extinguished, any more than a Horse, instead of being broke and trained, ought to be knocked on the Head, or all the Blood in the Body let out to cure a Fever, or the Head to be cut off, to cure a Vertigo.
Again, there is a great Difference between some strong and sudden Gusts and Fits of Passion, Curiosity, for Instance, and an habitual Dominion of the Passions over us. The best and wisest of Men may be now and then surprized, as the best Rider may be thrown, when he is not on his Guard, especially; now I say, in such a Case, for Example, if a strong Fit of Curiosity possesses us, which we cannot conquer, as in the Particulars I mentioned to you, it is better to yield a little for the Time, than to struggle in vain; yet, by no Means, to let it run into a Habit, but resume the Reins, as soon as possible. Just so, there are sometimes Fits of Indolence, Indisposition, Weariness, and Listlessness, if I may call it so, which seize us, and must be yielded Way to, for a short Time; but, if encouraged, are considerably more dangerous than the other; and for this good Reason, that all active Passions, such as Curiosity, decrease in Time, and wear out, or grow weaker by their own Activity, as Things in Motion tend to Rest, at last; but Indolence, the more it is humoured, the more it grows, as Things at Rest never tend to Motion again of themselves, but must be put into Motion by a new Force; and if they are heavy Bodies, the longer they lie on the Earth, the deeper they sink into if. This common and daily Experience shews us.
I am,
my dear Nancy,
ever yours, J. P.
LETTER CXLV.
Oxon.
Oct.
11, 1744.
Dear Nancy,
I Shall now give you the famous Mons.
Des-Cartes
four Rules of Method.
Rule I.
To admit nothing for Truth, but what you hare fully examined, and found to be so true, as that you have no Reason to doubt it; and to conclude nothing absolutely, but what you see clearly to follow from what you have so considered.
This Rule is of excellent Use, to find out the Truth in Things of Difficulty, or to attain to the Knowledge of what requires Application. But I must warn you, that there are many Things, where this is not necessary, as in Things
qui sautent aux Yeux,
as the French say, Things clear and obvious in themselves, or Things that commonly occur in Life, or are generally known and practised; and in Things that do not concern you whether they be true or false, and in many trifling Matters. For Want of this Precaution, I have heard of some Admirers of
Des-Cartes,
who have run into unaccountable Follies, and have given themselves great Disquiet, in applying his Rules on every Occasion, and have thereby made their Lives a Burthen to selves.
Rule II.
That all the Difficulties you are to examine, be divided into such and so many Parts as are necessary, in order to attain the Knowledge of what you pursue.
I shall say nothing on this Rule; I think the Usefulness of it is very plain.
Rule III.
To dispose all the Particulars you are to consider, in the most natural Order.
That is, you are to consider the more simple and plain Things, before the more compounded and perplexed; those that are necessary to be first understood, before those that arise out of them. For Example, in Arithmetic, which you understand a little.
A Numeration-Table stands first; then we learn to add Numbers to Numbers; the next Thing that naturally follows, is to take Numbers from Numbers, which is most easily learned, after we have learned to add Numbers. This is called Substraction. After this, Multiplication becomes familiar and easy; then follows Division, which requires both Addition, Subtraction, and Multiplication in the Operation.
In
Euclid
's famous Principles of the Mathematics, called his
Elements,
he proceeds in this admirable Method. His first Proposition is necessary to the understanding the second, the second to the third, the third to the fourth, and so on. This I think sufficient to explain what I mean.
This Rule, however, only holds good in Things that have a Relation or Connection, and Dependence on one another. As for Example, in learning
French,
as I said before, we shall be continually at a Loss, if we do not make ourselves Masters of the auxiliary Verbs,
avoir
and
étre,
because they run into every Verb. Yet I think the surest Way to get the
French
is to begin, after these two Verbs, with the other Verbs regular and irregular, though they are much harder than Nouns, Pronouns,
&c.
The Reason is, there is no such necessary Connection between these and Verbs, that they must be learned first, in order to gain the other; and as we remember best what we learn first in the Study of Languages, I am firmly of Opinion, that Verbs ought to be first attained.
Rule IV.
To be sure to omit nothing necessary to be taken into the Consideration of the Question you are in Search of, or the Attainment of what you want to know.
How many People have laboured in vain to come to the Ground of a Difficulty, or even attain the Understanding of an Art or Trade perfectly, by not observing this Rule; and perhaps omitting one necessary Thing, which made all the rest defective!
Some People have thought a fifth Rule necessary, and indeed I am one of them.
Rule V.
To separate every thing from the Question, that is not pertinent to the Resolution of the Difficulty.
I have often thought this Rule as necessary as any of the others. When we take any foreign Matter into the State of a Question, or Study of a Point, it embarrasses and perplexes us, and carries us away on a wrong Scent. You cannot fail to have observed this in People, whose Passions, Prejudices, Inattention, Ignorance, or Mistakes, lead them away from the Point in Question, and make them wander quite from the true State of it.
The learned have stated two Kinds of Reasoning in the Mind, Discourse, or Method, as they call it. My next shall be on that Subject, but I shall be very short, and then I have done.
J. P.
LETTER CXLVI.
Oxon.
Oct.
14, 1744.
THE two Methods I mentioned, my dear Nancy, are termed by the Learned, the Analytic Method, and the Synthetic Method. These are two Greek Words. The first signifies no more, in plain English, than to resolve, or separate, and take into Pieces; the latter, to compound or lay together; and in all Things that we would learn or know, one or other of these must be followed; for we must either separate the Subject into different Parts, and consider those distinctly, or we must put them together, and consider them jointly, and see what will be the Result.
But these two Methods are not indifferent to every Sort of Subject. The Nature of some requires to be considered analytically, others synthetically, and to come at the Knowledge of some Things, both must be used.
In Grammar, that is, the learning of a Language, the analytical Method is used to understand to read, write, or speak a Language; we consider the different Parts of Speech, as Nouns, Pronouns, Verbs,
&c.
In Nouns we consider the Substantives and Adjectives; we divide them into declinable and indeclinable; we divide the Declensions, consider the different Cases, Numbers, Genders, and so forth. In Pronouns we consider the first, second, and third Person, the demonstrative, relative, and possessive. Verbs we divide into regular and irregular; then into active, passive, neuter, and reciprocal; then we consider them in their different Moods, Tenses, Persons, and Numbers. This is sufficient to make you apprehend the Usefulness of this Method, called analytical.
In Logic, that is, the Art of Reasoning, we proceed in another Manner. Here we begin with simple Perception, or what is called a single Idea. Then we proceed to Judgment, that is, considering two Ideas together, and comparing them and finding the Relation or Want of Relation between them. For Example, when we consider the Ideas of Fire and Heat together, we pronounce "that Fire is hot." When we consider and compare the Ideas we have of God and Death, or Sin, we find a Want of Relation, or an Incompatibility between them; hence we pronounce,
God is not subject to Death, or to Sin.
When we have thus formed a Judgment, we can go further, and carry on our Reasoning in a Chain; as thus—
If God cannot sin, he must necessarily be good; if he cannot die, he must be eternal.
This is called Discourse; which Word does not properly signify
talking
as we use it, but reasoning, and laying Things together, or separating them, and so finding out Inferences.
We then proceed to
Method
; which is, ordering and disposing our Thoughts, so as best to attain the Knowledge of what we want to find out, by either or both of the afore-mentioned Ways; and all the Art of Logic depends on these four Operations on the Mind, to wit, Perception, Judgment, Discourse, and Method.
Thus in Geometry, a
Point
is first considered; next to that a
Line,
which is a Continuation of Points; this gives us the Idea of Length; the next is the Idea of Breadth; from these two we have the Idea of
Surface
; and when to Length and Breadth we take in Depth, we get the Idea of a
Solid.
From these Ideas arise all our Notions of Squares, Curves, Triangles, Cubes,
&c.
with all their Proportions and Relations.
You have now, I doubt not, a just Notion of what is called analytical, what synthetical, and of the Usefulness of their different Operations.
I said that in some Studies both Methods may be necessary; and they may be so, either in some different Parts of a long or intricate Question, or even sometimes to the right understanding of the whole.
To give the best Idea hereof that I can, take this familiar Illustration.
Suppose you wanted to know the Machinery and Movements of a Watch, it would be necessary to take the whole Movement in Pieces before you, to explain the Use of every Part, to make you observe the Shape, Form, and Figure of each, to shew you how it is fitted for such or such an Use, or Purpose, and how its Structure contributes to this Use. This is the
Analytical
Method. But to make you understand it perfectly, would it not, think you, be proper to put it together again before you, and to shew you thereby how each Part corresponded with and related to another, and how, from that Construction and Composition, the Motions arise, and were continued, and conducted to the End, for which a Watch was designed? This is the
Synthetical
Method.
In such an Operation as this, we have Occasion to consider every thing duly, and so to admit nothing to be true, that is to say, fit for the Purpose it is said to be designed for, unless it evidently appears so. Here then is a Distribution of the Subject into as many Parts as are necessary; the simple Parts are first considered, then the Connection with others, then these Parts as compounded, and lastly the whole Frame, Composition, or System. Now if all these are duly considered, a nice Discerner will find out what is wanting, and, by that Means, will omit nothing that is necessary to the Perfection of the Machine; and if there is any thing amiss, or superfluous, he will be sensible, that it is to be altered, or removed. Herein then are the whole five Rules of Method, mentioned in my former Letter, comprized.
If Mr.
Greme
(the best Watch-Maker, perhaps, that ever was in the World) had not seen many Watches both taken asunder and put together, and had not considered every Part nicely by itself, and the whole when united, he would never have been able to remove some Things, and to add or alter others, as he has often done, to amazing Advantage.
I shall add no more on this Subject, only recommend a Treatise of Mr.
Locke
's, called
The Conduct of the Understanding.
Adieu,
my dear Nancy,
J. P.
LETTER CXLVII.
Oxon.
Oct.
30, 1744.
My dear Nancy,
I AM very well pleased with your Observations on
Tasso
; they are both ingenious and just, and no Critic needs be ashamed of them.
Since I wrote you last, our Professor of Poetry had a public Speech. It was on the Figure
Prosopopea.
This is, in plain English,
imagining
a Person, and directing our Discourse to him. He divided it into two Kinds, either applying to a Person absent, or to an inanimate Thing, as if it were a living Person.
This Division is well understood and very common. Thousands of Instances, of both Kinds, are to be found in
Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Milton,
&c. Of the first Sort there is an Instance near the Beginning of the first Book of the
Aeneid,
where
Aeneas
invokes
Tydides,
as if he were present; but it is much stronger expressed in the Original, than in the Translation. A noble Instance of the second Sort is in the fourth Book of
Paradise Lost,
where
Satan
addresses himself to the
Sun
; and in another Place, where
Eve
talks to the Flowers, Trees, and Brooks, from which she is about to be banished.
But our Professor's chief Design was to shew that there were more strong, more grand, and more emphatical Figures, of this Kind, in the
Holy Scriptures,
than in all the Poets put together. For Instance,
Hear, O Heaven, and give Ear, O Earth.
Jeremiah
addresses himself to the Sword of the
Lord,
"which," he says,
thirsteth for Blood;
and to his Arrows, which he calls "the Children of his Quiver." He quoted many more, all very strong and emphatical, and shewed us some of the finest
Prosopopea's
mixed with the strongest and most expressive Metaphors, and other Figures. But he insisted chiefly on a Passage in the Song of
Deborah
and
Sirak,
where they do not make a
Prosopopea
to the Mother of
Sisera,
but imagine her talking to her Ladies, and thence so impatient as to answer herself
The Mother of
Sisera
looked out at a Window, and cried through the Lattice,
Why is his Chariot so long in coming? Why tarry the Wheels of his Chariot?
Her wise Ladies answered her—Yea, she returned Answer to herself.
Have they not sped? Have they not divided the Prey, to every Man a Damsel or two? To
Sisera
a Prey of divers Colours, a Prey of divers Colours of Needle-Work, of divers Colours of Needle-Work on both Sides, meet for the Necks of them that take the Spoil?
Chap.
v. Ver. 28, 29, 30.
. He observed the Impatience of a Mother for the Return of her Son, her looking out at the Lattice, her asking her Ladies, her returning Answer to herself, and then the Particulars that ran most in her Head, not Conquest nor Glory, but captive Damsels, and fine gorgeous Raiment; with an Imagination so warm and full, that she describes them as minutely as if she had seen them. This, he said, was natural to the Sex, quoted a similar Passage in
Virgil,
where
Camilla
is so blinded with the Armour of
Arunces,
that it occasions her to lose her Life. He then made an unfavourable Reflection, namely, how much the female Sex is taken up with Toys, and gaudy Trifles; a Reflection, which, I flatter myself, will never, with any Justice, be applied to you.
Adieu,
my dearest,
J. P.
Soon after the Date of this Letter, the Lady had the Affliction to lose her valuable, revered, and much-lamented Tutor, Guardian, Friend, and Parent.
FINIS.
The following BOOKS are this Day published for JOHN BELL, near
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1 l. 11 s. 6d. EXPOSITORY NOTES, With Practical Observations on the NEW TESTAMENT Of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ;
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Translated from the celebrated French Novel of the same Title.
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A NEW SYSTEM OF ENGLISH RHETORICK, Or, Construction of PROSE and VERSE, in THEORY and PRACTICE. By JONATHAN BELL, Late Teacher of Grammar and the Mathematics.
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By the same Author
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A TOUR through the whole ISLAND of GREAT-BRITAIN.
Divided into CIRCUITS or JOURNIES. Containing
I. A Description of the Principal Cities and Towns, their Situation, Government, and Commerce.
II. The Customs, Manners, Exercises, Diversions, and Employments of the People.
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