Newsgroups: bit.listserv.c18-l
Date:         Tue, 10 Nov 1992 10:08:26 EST
From:         BCJ@PSUVM.BITNET
Subject:      Sentiment & animals redivivus

Without much evidence to support such a contention, I would like to suggest we
may be able to locate stages in the depiction of animals in European poetry &
fiction in the 17th & 18th century.  The earliest is most likely rooted in the
Renaissance beast fable; there are lots of examples readily accessible.  Then
there is the emblematic reading: look at John Bunyan's moral verses, such as
"Of the Boy and the Butterfly," Upon a Snail," &c., and then the extended
discursive allegory of Dryden's "The Hind and the Panther."  In the former,
the animal is observed and moralized; in the latter the animal is a mouthpiece
for a complex set of ideas (that is, there is less recognizable animalness
here -- the beast's kind is significant in an emblematic, not naturalistic way)

At some point in the 18th century there develops a new twist: the notion of the
beast's inwardness.  At first this serves the same kind of moralizing we saw
before (an Aesopian tale built to produce the moral tag or "epignome" [isn't
that a great word!]).  But by the end of the century there are poems that
refer to this inwardness pathetically.  I'll give you three examples:

1)  John Bunyan, "Upon a Snail"

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,
  She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do;
Her journey's shorter, so she may endure
  Better than they which do much further go.

She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on
  The flower or herb appointed for her food;
The which she quietly doth feed upon.
  While others range, and glare, and find no good.

And though she doth but very softly go,
  However slow her pace, yet 'tis sure;
And certainly they that do travel so,
  The prize which they do aim at, they procure.

                 *Comparison*

Although they seem not much to stir or go,
  For Christ that hunger, or from wrath that flee;
Yet what they seek for, quickly they come to,
  Though it doth seem the furthest off to be.

One act of faith doth bring them to that flower
  They so long for, that they may eat and live;
Which to attain is not in others' power,
  Though for it a king's ransom they would give.

Then let none faint, nor be at all dismayed,
  That life by Christ do seek: they shall not fail
To have it; let them nothing be afraid;
  The herb, the flower, is eaten by the snail.

*************************************************************************

[This next poem is, I think, transitional -- both moralizing and a little
pathetic.]

2)  Nathaniel Cotton, "The Bee, the Ant, and the Sparrow: A Fable, Addressed
     to Phoebe and Kitty C. at Boarding School"

My dears, 'tis said in days of old,
That beasts could talk, and birds could scold;
But now, it seems the human race
Alone engross the speaker's place.
Yet lately, if report be true
(And much the tale relates to you),
There met a Sparrow, Ant, and Bee,
Which reasoned and conversed as we.

Who reads my page will doubtless grant
That Phe's the wise industrious Ant;
And all with half an eye may see
That Kitty is the busy Bee.
Here then are two--but where's the third?
Go search the school, you'll find the bird.
*Your* school!  I ask your pardon fair,
I'm sure you'll find no sparrow there.

Now to my tale--One summer's morn
A Bee ranged o'er the verdant lawn,
Studious to husband every hour,
And make the most of every flower.
Nimble from stalk to stalk she flies,
And loads with yellow wax her thighs,
With which the artist builds her comb,
And keeps all tight and warm at home;
Or from the cowslip's golden bells
Sucks honey, to enrich her cells;
Or every tempting rose pursues,
Or sips the lily's fragrant dews;
Yet never robs the shining bloom,
Or of its beauty or perfume.
Thus she discharged in every way
The various duties of the day.

It chanced a frugal Ant was near,
Whose brow was wrinkled o'er by care:
A great economist was she,
Nor less laborious than the Bee;
By pensive parents often taught
What ills arise from want of thought;
That poverty on sloth depends,
On poverty the loss of friends.
Hence every day the Ant is found
With anxious steps to tread the ground;
With curious search to trace the grain,
And drag the heavy load with pain.

The active Bee with pleasure saw
The Ant fulfil her parents' law.
'Ah! sister-labourer,' says she,
'How very fortunate are we!
'Who, taught in infancy to know
'The comforts which from labour flow,
'Are independent of the great,
'Nor know the wants of pride and state.
'Why is our food so very sweet?
'Because we earn before we eat.'

A wanton Sparrow longed to hear
Their sage discourse, and straight drew near.
The bird was talkative and loud,
And very pert and very proud;
As worthless and as vain a thing,
Perhaps, as ever wore a wing.
She found, as on a spray she sat,
The little friends were deep in chat;
That virtue was their favourite theme,
And toil and probity their scheme:
Such talk was hateful to her breast;
She thought them arrant prudes at best.
When, to display her naughty mind,
Hunger and cruelty combined,
She viewed the Ant with savage eyes,
And hopped, and hopped to snatch her prize.
The Bee, who watched her opening bill,
And guessed her fell design to kill,
Asked her from what her anger rose,
And why she treated Ants as foes.

The Sparrow her reply began,
And thus the conversation ran:
'Whenever I'm disposed to dine,
'I think the whole creation mine;
'That I'm a bird of high degree,
'And every insect made for me.
'Hence oft I search the emmet-brood
'(For emmets are delicious food),
'And oft, in wantonness and play,
'I slay ten thousand in a day.
'For truth it is, without disguise,
'That I love mischief as my eyes.'

'Oh fie!' the honest Bee replied,
'I fear you make base Man your guide;
'Of every creature sure the worst,
'Though in creation's scale the first.
'Ungrateful man! 'tis strange he thrives,
'Who burns the bees to rob their hives.
'I hate his vile administration,
'And so do all the emmet nation.
'What fatal foes to birds are men,
'Quite to the eagle from the wren!
'Oh, do not men's example take,
'Who mischief do for mischief's sake;
'But spare the Ant--her worth demands
'Esteem and friendship at your hands.
'A mind with every virtue blest,
'Must raise compassion in your breast.'

'Virtue!' rejoined the sneering bird,
'Where did you learn that Gothic word?
'Since I was hatched, I never heard
'That virtue was at all revered.
'Trust me, Miss Bee--to speak the truth
'I've copied man from earliest youth;
'The same our taste, the same our school,
'Passion and appetite our rule;
'And call me bird, or call me sinner,
'I'll ne'er forego my sport or dinner.'

A prowling cat the miscreant spies,
And wide expands her amber eyes:
Near and more near Grimalkin draws;
She wags her tail, extends her claws,
Then, springing on her thoughtless prey,
She bore the vicious bird away.

*****************************************************************************

3)  Anna Laetitia Barbauld, "The Mouse's Petition, Found in the trap, where
     he had been confined all night"

O hear a pensive prisoner's prayer,
  For liberty that sighs;
And never let thine heart be shut
  Against the wretch's cries!

For here forlorn and sad I sit
  Within the wiry grate;
And tremble at the approaching morn,
  Which brings impending fate.

If e'er thy breast with freedom glowed
  And spurned a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy strong oppressive force
  A free-born mouse detain.

O do not stain with guiltless blood
  Thy hospitable hearth;
Nor triumph that thy wiles betrayed
  A prize so little worth!

The scattered gleanings of a feast
  My frugal means supply:
But if thine unrelenting heart
  That slender boon deny,

The cheerful light, the vital air,
  Are blessings widely given;
Let nature's commoners enjoy
  The common gifts of heaven.

The well-taught philosophic mind
  To all compassion gives,
Casts round the world an equal eye,
  And feels for all that lives.
Comments: Gated by NETNEWS@AUVM.AMERICAN.EDU