Volume I Part 57 (1/2)

No. 71. Tuesday, May 22, 1711. Steele.

'... Scribere jussit Amor.'

Ovid.

The entire Conquest of our Pa.s.sions is so difficult a Work, that they who despair of it should think of a less difficult Task, and only attempt to Regulate them. But there is a third thing which may contribute not only to the Ease, but also to the Pleasure of our Life; and that is refining our Pa.s.sions to a greater Elegance, than we receive them from Nature. When the Pa.s.sion is Love, this Work is performed in innocent, though rude and uncultivated Minds, by the mere Force and Dignity of the Object. There are Forms which naturally create Respect in the Beholders, and at once Inflame and Chastise the Imagination. Such an Impression as this gives an immediate Ambition to deserve, in order to please. This Cause and Effect are beautifully described by Mr.

_Dryden_ in the Fable of _Cymon_ and _Iphigenia_. After he has represented _Cymon_ so stupid, that

_He Whistled as he went, for want of Thought_,

he makes him fall into the following Scene, and shews its Influence upon him so excellently, that it appears as Natural as Wonderful.

_It happen'd on a Summer's Holiday, That to the Greenwood-shade he took his Way; His Quarter-staff, which he cou'd ne'er forsake, Hung half before, and half behind his Back.

He trudg'd along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of Thought.

By Chance conducted, or by Thirst constrain'd, The deep recesses of the Grove he gain'd; Where in a Plain, defended by the Wood, Crept thro' the matted Gra.s.s a Crystal Flood, By which an Alabaster Fountain stood: And on the Margin of the Fount was laid, (Attended by her Slaves) a sleeping Maid, Like_ Dian, _and her Nymphs, when, tir'd with Sport, To rest by cool_ Eurotas _they resort: The Dame herself the G.o.ddess well expressed, Not more distinguished by her Purple Vest, Than by the charming Features of her Face, And even in Slumber a superior Grace: Her comely Limbs composed with decent Care, Her Body shaded with a slight Cymarr; Her Bosom to the View was only bare_:[1]

_The fanning Wind upon her Bosom blows, To meet the fanning Wind the Bosom rose; The fanning Wind and purling Streams continue her Repose.

The Fool of Nature stood with stupid Eyes And gaping Mouth, that testify'd Surprize, Fix'd on her Face, nor could remove his Sight, New as he was to Love, and Novice in Delight: Long mute he stood, and leaning on his Staff, His Wonder witness'd with an Idiot Laugh; Then would have spoke, but by his glimmering Sense First found his want of Words, and fear'd Offence: Doubted for what he was he should be known, By his Clown-Accent, and his Country Tone_.

But lest this fine Description should be excepted against, as the Creation of that great Master, Mr. _Dryden_, and not an Account of what has really ever happened in the World; I shall give you, _verbatim_, the Epistle of an enamoured Footman in the Country to his Mistress. [2]

Their Sirnames shall not be inserted, because their Pa.s.sion demands a greater Respect than is due to their Quality. _James_ is Servant in a great Family, and Elizabeth waits upon the Daughter of one as numerous, some Miles off of her Lover. _James_, before he beheld _Betty_, was vain of his Strength, a rough Wrestler, and quarrelsome Cudgel-Player; _Betty_ a Publick Dancer at Maypoles, a Romp at Stool-Ball: He always following idle Women, she playing among the Peasants: He a Country Bully, she a Country Coquet. But Love has made her constantly in her Mistress's Chamber, where the young Lady gratifies a secret Pa.s.sion of her own, by making _Betty_ talk of _James_; and _James_ is become a constant Waiter near his Master's Apartment, in reading, as well as he can, Romances. I cannot learn who _Molly_ is, who it seems walked Ten Mile to carry the angry Message, which gave Occasion to what follows.

To _ELIZABETH_ ...

_My Dear Betty_, May 14, 1711.

Remember your bleeding Lover, who lies bleeding at the ...

_Where two beginning Paps were scarcely spy'd, For yet their Places were but signify'd_.

Wounds _Cupid_ made with the Arrows he borrowed at the Eyes of _Venus_, which is your sweet Person.

Nay more, with the Token you sent me for my Love and Service offered to your sweet Person; which was your base Respects to my ill Conditions; when alas! there is no ill Conditions in me, but quite contrary; all Love and Purity, especially to your sweet Person; but all this I take as a Jest.