We might still quote
special motives and vindicate each point; but we must needs leave
something to the capacity and leniency of our readers.
special motives and vindicate each point; but we must needs leave
something to the capacity and leniency of our readers.
La Fontaine
Why
should they not? They twitted Terence in just the same way; but Terence
sneered at them, and claimed a right to treat the matter as he did. He
has mingled his own ideas with the subjects he drew from Menander, just
as Sophocles and Euripides mingled theirs with the subjects they drew
from former writers, sparing neither history nor romance, where "decorum"
and the rules of the Drama were at issue. Shall this privilege cease
with respect to fictitious stories? Must we in future have more
scrupulous or religious regard, if we may be allowed the expression,
for falsehood than the Ancients had for truth? What people call a good
tale never passes from hand to hand without receiving some fresh touch
of embellishment. How comes it then, we may be asked, that in many
passages the Author curtails instead of enlarging on the original?
On that point we are agreed: the Author does so in order to avoid
lengthiness and ambiguity,--two faults which are inadmissible in such
matters, especially the latter. For if lucidity is to be commended in
all literary works, we may say that it is especially necessary in
narratives, where one thing is, as a rule, the sequel and the result of
another; where the less important sometimes lays the basis of the more
important; so that, once the thread becomes broken, the reader cannot
gather it up again. Besides, as narratives in verse are very awkward,
the author must clog himself with details as little as possible; by means
of this you relieve not only yourself, but also the reader, for whom an
author should not fail to prepare pleasure unalloyed. Whenever the
Author has altered a few particulars and even a few catastrophes, he has
been forced to do so by the cause of that catastrophe and the urgency of
giving it a happy termination. He has fancied that in tales of this kind
everyone ought to be satisfied with the end: it pleases the reader at
any rate, if the author has not given the characters too distasteful
a rendering. But he must not go so far as that, if possible, nor make
the reader laugh and cry in the same tale. This medley shocks Horace
above all things; his wish is not that our works should border on the
grotesque, and that we should draw a picture half woman half fish. These
are the general motives the Author has had in view.
We might still quote
special motives and vindicate each point; but we must needs leave
something to the capacity and leniency of our readers. They will be
satisfied, then, with the motives we have mentioned. We would have
stated them more clearly and have set more by them, had the general
compass of a Preface so allowed.
FRIAR PHILIP'S GEESE
IF these gay tales give pleasure to the FAIR,
The honour's great conferred, I'm well aware;
Yet, why suppose the sex my pages shun?
Enough, if they condemn where follies run;
Laugh in their sleeve at tricks they disapprove,
And, false or true, a muscle never move.
A playful jest can scarcely give offence:
Who knows too much, oft shows a want of sense.
From flatt'ry oft more dire effects arise,
Enflame the heart and take it by surprise;
Ye beauteous belles, beware each sighing swain,
Discard his vows:--my book with care retain;
Your safety then I'll guarantee at ease. --
But why dismiss? --their wishes are to please:
And, truly, no necessity appears
For solitude:--consider well your years.
I HAVE, and feel convinced they do you wrong,
Who think no virtue can to such belong;
White crows and phoenixes do not abound;
But lucky lovers still are sometimes found;
And though, as these famed birds, not quite so rare,
The numbers are not great that favours share;
I own my works a diff'rent sense express,
But these are tales:--mere tales in easy dress.
To beauty's wiles, in ev'ry class, I've bowed;
Fawned, flattered, sighed, e'en constancy have vowed
What gained? you ask--but little I admit;
Howe'er we aim, too oft we fail to hit.
My latter days I'll now devote with care,
To guard the sex from ev'ry latent snare.
Tales I'll detail, and these relate at ease:
Narrations clear and neat will always please;
Like me, to this attention criticks pay;
Then sleep, on either side, from night till day.
If awkward, vulgar phrase intervene,
Or rhymes imperfect o'er the page be seen,
Condemn at will; but stratagems and art,
Pass, shut your eyes, who'd heed the idle part?
Some mothers, husbands, may perhaps be led,
To pull my locks for stories white or red;
So matters stand: a fine affair, no doubt,
And what I've failed to do--my book makes out.
should they not? They twitted Terence in just the same way; but Terence
sneered at them, and claimed a right to treat the matter as he did. He
has mingled his own ideas with the subjects he drew from Menander, just
as Sophocles and Euripides mingled theirs with the subjects they drew
from former writers, sparing neither history nor romance, where "decorum"
and the rules of the Drama were at issue. Shall this privilege cease
with respect to fictitious stories? Must we in future have more
scrupulous or religious regard, if we may be allowed the expression,
for falsehood than the Ancients had for truth? What people call a good
tale never passes from hand to hand without receiving some fresh touch
of embellishment. How comes it then, we may be asked, that in many
passages the Author curtails instead of enlarging on the original?
On that point we are agreed: the Author does so in order to avoid
lengthiness and ambiguity,--two faults which are inadmissible in such
matters, especially the latter. For if lucidity is to be commended in
all literary works, we may say that it is especially necessary in
narratives, where one thing is, as a rule, the sequel and the result of
another; where the less important sometimes lays the basis of the more
important; so that, once the thread becomes broken, the reader cannot
gather it up again. Besides, as narratives in verse are very awkward,
the author must clog himself with details as little as possible; by means
of this you relieve not only yourself, but also the reader, for whom an
author should not fail to prepare pleasure unalloyed. Whenever the
Author has altered a few particulars and even a few catastrophes, he has
been forced to do so by the cause of that catastrophe and the urgency of
giving it a happy termination. He has fancied that in tales of this kind
everyone ought to be satisfied with the end: it pleases the reader at
any rate, if the author has not given the characters too distasteful
a rendering. But he must not go so far as that, if possible, nor make
the reader laugh and cry in the same tale. This medley shocks Horace
above all things; his wish is not that our works should border on the
grotesque, and that we should draw a picture half woman half fish. These
are the general motives the Author has had in view.
We might still quote
special motives and vindicate each point; but we must needs leave
something to the capacity and leniency of our readers. They will be
satisfied, then, with the motives we have mentioned. We would have
stated them more clearly and have set more by them, had the general
compass of a Preface so allowed.
FRIAR PHILIP'S GEESE
IF these gay tales give pleasure to the FAIR,
The honour's great conferred, I'm well aware;
Yet, why suppose the sex my pages shun?
Enough, if they condemn where follies run;
Laugh in their sleeve at tricks they disapprove,
And, false or true, a muscle never move.
A playful jest can scarcely give offence:
Who knows too much, oft shows a want of sense.
From flatt'ry oft more dire effects arise,
Enflame the heart and take it by surprise;
Ye beauteous belles, beware each sighing swain,
Discard his vows:--my book with care retain;
Your safety then I'll guarantee at ease. --
But why dismiss? --their wishes are to please:
And, truly, no necessity appears
For solitude:--consider well your years.
I HAVE, and feel convinced they do you wrong,
Who think no virtue can to such belong;
White crows and phoenixes do not abound;
But lucky lovers still are sometimes found;
And though, as these famed birds, not quite so rare,
The numbers are not great that favours share;
I own my works a diff'rent sense express,
But these are tales:--mere tales in easy dress.
To beauty's wiles, in ev'ry class, I've bowed;
Fawned, flattered, sighed, e'en constancy have vowed
What gained? you ask--but little I admit;
Howe'er we aim, too oft we fail to hit.
My latter days I'll now devote with care,
To guard the sex from ev'ry latent snare.
Tales I'll detail, and these relate at ease:
Narrations clear and neat will always please;
Like me, to this attention criticks pay;
Then sleep, on either side, from night till day.
If awkward, vulgar phrase intervene,
Or rhymes imperfect o'er the page be seen,
Condemn at will; but stratagems and art,
Pass, shut your eyes, who'd heed the idle part?
Some mothers, husbands, may perhaps be led,
To pull my locks for stories white or red;
So matters stand: a fine affair, no doubt,
And what I've failed to do--my book makes out.
