'With that I gan about to wend, For one that stood right at my back That no wight have my name in hand: I wot myself best how I stand; For what I dree16 or what I think I will myselfè all it drink, As farforth as I ken1 mine art!'" 5 10 15 Chaucer ranks to this day as one of the very greatest and finest minds in the entire literature of the English speech, and stands therefore on a level far higher than can be assumed for his contemporary Barbour. But Barbour was a most creditable old worthy too. Let us 20 have a scrap from his "Bruce." Who does not know the famous passage which is the very key-note of that poem? One is never tired of quoting it: "Ah! freedom is a noble thing; Freedom makes man to have likíng: Ne ellys nought that may him please Then all perquére20 he suld it wit, Than all the gold in the warld that is." My purpose in quoting passages from Chaucer and Barbour will have been anticipated. We hear sometimes in these days of a certain science, or rather portion of a more general science, which takes to itself the name of Social Statics, and professes, under that name, to have s for its business the investigation of "possible social simultaneities." That is to say, there may be a science of what can possibly go along with what in any social state or stage; or, to put it otherwise, any one fact or condition of a state of society being given, there may be 10 inferred from that fact or condition some of the other facts and conditions that must necessarily have coexisted with it. Thus at length, perhaps, by continued inference, the whole state of an old society might be imaged out, just as Cuvier, from the sight of one bone, could infer 15 with tolerable accuracy the general structure of the animal. Well, will Social Statics be so good as to take the foregoing passages, and whir out of them their "possible social simultaneities?" Were this done, I should be surprised if the England and Scotland of the fourteenth century were to turn out so very unlovely, so atrociously barbarian, after all. Where such sentiments existed and were expressed, where the men that could express them lived and were appreciated, the surrounding medium of thought, of institutions, and of customs, must have been 25 to correspond. There must have been truth, and honor, and courtesy, and culture, round those men; there must have been high heart, shrewd sense, delicate art, gentle behavior, and, in one part of the island at least, a luxuriant complexity of most subtle and exquisite circum-30 stance. XL. THE ART OF IMPROVING BEAUTY. BY SIR RICHARD STEELE.' A FRIEND of mine has two daughters, whom I will call Lætitia and Daphne; the former is one of the greatest beauties of the age in which she lives; the latter no way remarkable for any charms in her person. Upon this one circumstance of their outward form the s good or ill of their lives seems to turn. Lætitia has not, from her very childhood, heard anything else but commendations of her features and complexion-by which means she is no other than nature made her, a beautiful outside. The consciousness of her charms has 10 rendered her insupportably vain and insolent towards all who have to do with her. Daphne, who was almost twenty before one civil thing had been said to her, found herself obliged to acquire some accomplishments to make up for the want of attractions which she saw 15 in her sister. Poor Daphne was seldom admitted to a debate wherein she was concerned; her discourse had nothing to recommend it but the good sense of it, and she was always under a necessity to have well considered what she was to say before she uttered it; while 20 Lætitia was listened to with partiality, and approbation sat in the countenances of those she conversed with, before she communicated what she had to say. These causes have produced suitable effects, and Lætitia is as insipid a companion as Daphne is an agreeable one.25 Lætitia, confident of favor, has studied no arts to please; Daphne, despairing of any inclination towards her person, has only depended on her merit. Lætitia has always something in her air that is sullen, grave, and disconsolate. Daphne has a countenance that appears cheerful, open, and unconcerned. A young gentleman 5 saw Lætitia this winter at a play, and became her captive. His fortune was such that he wanted very little introduction to speak his sentiments to her father. The lover was admitted with the utmost freedom into the family, where a constrained behavior, severe looks, and 10 distant civilities were the highest favors he could obtain from Lætitia; while Daphne used him with the goodhumor, familiarity, and innocence of a sister, insomuch that he would often say to her, "Dear Daphne, wert thou but as handsome as Lætitia." She received such 15 language with that ingenuous and pleasant mirth which is natural to a woman without design. He still sighed in vain for Lætitia, but found certain relief in the agreeable conversation of Daphne. At length, heartily tired with the haughty impertinence of Lætitia, and charmed with the repeated instances of good-humor he had observed in Daphne, he one day told the latter that he had something to say to her that he hoped she would be pleased with-" Faith, Daphne," continued he, “I am in love with thee, and despise thy sister sincerely." The 25 manner of his declaring himself gave his mistress occasion for a very hearty laughter. "Nay," said he, “I knew you would laugh at me, but I will ask your father." He did so; the father received his intelligence with no less joy than surprise, and was very glad; he had no care now left but for his beauty, which he thought he could carry to market at his leisure. I do not know anything that has pleased me so much in a great while as this conquest of my friend Daphne's. All 20 her acquaintance congratulated her upon her chancemedley,2 and laugh at that premeditating murderer, her sister. As it is an argument of a light mind to think the worse of ourselves for the imperfection of our persons, 5 it is equally below us to value ourselves upon the advantages of them. The female world seems to be almost incorrigibly gone astray in this particular — for which reason I shall recommend the following extract out of a friend's letter to the professed beauties, who are, 10 as a people, almost as insufferable as the professed wits: "M. St. Evremond' has concluded one of his essays with affirming that the last sighs of a handsome woman are not so much for the loss of her life as of her beauty. Perhaps this raillery is pursued too far, yet it is turned 15 upon a very obvious remark, that woman's strongest passion is for her own beauty, and that she values it as her favorite distinction. From hence it is that all arts which pretend to improve or preserve it meets with so general a reception among the sex. To say nothing of 20 many false helps and contraband wares of beauty which are daily vended in this great mart, there is not a maiden gentlewoman of a good family in any county of South Britain who has not heard of the virtues of May-dew, or is unfurnished with some receipt or other in favor of 25 her complexion; and I have known a physician of learning and sense, after eight years' study in the University, and a course of travels in most countries in Europe, owe the first raising of his fortunes to a cosmetic wash. "This has given me occasion to consider how so uni-30 versal a disposition in womankind, which springs from a laudable motive, the desire of pleasing, and proceeds upon an opinion not altogether groundless, that nature may be helped by art, may be turned to their advantage. |