Proverb Lore Part 6

Up till now we have shown how one writer may use many proverbs; we will turn to the other alternative and seek to show how one proverb is used by many writers. In doing so we are at once struck by the variety of garb in which it may appear. The inner spirit and meaning, the core, remains inviolate naturally, but its presentation to us is by no means in one set formula. We are warned not to judge alone by outward appearance, nor to a.s.sume too hastily precious metal in what may prove to be but dross or a poor counterfeit of the real thing. Hence Chaucer warns us, "All thing which that shineth as the gold He is no gold, as I have heard it told." Lydgate, writing on "the Mutability of human affairs," declares truly enough that "all is not golde that outward showeth bright"; while Spenser, in his "Faerie Queene," hath it that "Gold all is not that doth golden seem"; and Shakespeare, in the "Merchant of Venice," writes, "All that glisters is not gold."[73:A]

Dryden's version, in the "Hind and Panther," is very similar, "All, as they say, that glitters is not gold"; and Herbert, in the "Jacula Prudentum," reverses the wording into "All is not gold that glisters."

In "Ralph Roister Doister" we find the reading, "All things that shineth is not by and by pure gold"; while the Italians have the equivalent, "Non e oro tutto quel che luce."

In Greene's "Perimedes," published in the year 1588, we find the pa.s.sage, "Though men do determine the G.o.ds doo dispose, and oft times many things fall out betweene the cup and the lip." The first portion of this pa.s.sage is almost invariably cited in French--"l'homme propose et le Dieu dispose"--giving the impression that the saying is of Gallic origin. How far back into the ages this proverb goes we cannot trace. We find it in the "Imitation of Christ" of Thomas a Kempis as, "Nam h.o.m.o proponit sed Deus disponit." It is possible that the French rendering became current in our midst because the "Imitation," when first translated from the original Latin, was rendered into French. The book at once sprang into notice and esteem, and the pa.s.sages under our consideration would be noticeable not only from its declaration of a great truth but from its rhythm--a rhythm that was well preserved in its French rendering. The French translation of the "Imitation of Christ"

appeared in 1488, while the first English version was not produced till the year 1502. In the "Vision of Piers ploughman," written somewhere about the year 1360, we find the saying given in Latin, while George Herbert, who died in 1633, introduces it as "Man proposeth, G.o.d disposeth."

The possibilities that may exist in the short interval of time between raising the cup to the lips and setting it down again are made the subject of a warning proverb that is of immense antiquity. The Samian king, Ancaeus, while planting a vineyard was warned by a diviner that he would not live to take its fruits. Time pa.s.sed on and the vineyard prospered, until at length one day the king, goblet in hand, was to taste for the first time the wine it had yielded. He recalled the prophecy, and derided the power of the seer as he stood before him. At this moment a messenger arrived with the news that a wild boar was ravaging the vineyard, and Ancaeus, hastily putting down the cup, seized his spear and rushed out to slay the boar, but himself fell a victim to the onslaught of the furious beast.[74:A] Thus, to quote a considerably more modern authority, Jonson's "Tale of a Tub," "you see the old adage verified--many things fall between the cup and lip."

It is a wise rule of conduct to bear in mind that great offence may be given by comparing one thing with another, as the process is almost sure to end to the more or less detriment of one or the other, or possibly, when the spirit of criticism is rampant, in the depreciation of both.

Hence Lydgate writes in 1554, "Comparisons do oftimes great grevance,"

and in More's "Dial" the idea recurs--"Comparysons be odyouse."

Gascoigne, in the year 1575, declares in his "Posies," "I will forbear to recyte examples by any of mine owne doings, since all comparisons are odious." Dr John Donne in an "Elegy" has the line, "she and comparisons are odious," and we find the same idea in Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy," in Heywood's play, "A Woman Killed with Kindness," in "Don Quixote," and many other works.

Shakespeare, in his "Much Ado about Nothing," puts into the mouth of Dogberry the variation "comparisons are odorous." Swift, in his "Answer to Sheridan's Simile," writes:

"We own your verses are melodious, But then comparisons are odious."

Lilly, in the "Euphues," seems to think that comparisons may at times be an offence when the objects of such a scrutiny are incomparable in their excellence; that each is so perfect that any suggestion of comparison becomes necessarily a depreciation and a dethronement. Hence he writes--"But least comparisons should seeme odious, chiefly where both the parties be without comparison, I will omitte that," and he returns to this idea in his "Midas," where he distinctly lays down the proposition that "Comparisons cannot be odious where the deities are equall."

The picturesque adage, "a rolling stone gathers no moss," is still popular amongst our people. In Turner's "Five hundred pointes of good husbandrie," a book written between three and four hundred years ago, we find the same precept:

"The stone that is rouling can gather no mosse; Who often remoueth is sure of losse.

The rich it compelleth to paie for his pride; The poore it vndooeth on euerie side."

Marston, in "The Fawn," written in the year 1606, has an allusion to this proverb:

"Thy head is alwaies working: it roles and it roles, Dondolo, but it gathers no mosse."

In the "Vision of Piers Plowman" we appear at first sight to have a quaint and interesting variant--"Selden mosseth the marbelston that men ofte treden." But it will be seen that in thus altering the wording from the type-form we have also varied its significance; it is, in fact, a new saying, and of different application. To point out to a restless and aimless ne'er-do-well, throwing up one position after another, that no moss will be found growing on the doorstep of some busy office would be an entirely pointless proceeding not tending to edification.

Another familiar proverb is "well begun is half done." We find its equivalent in Horace and the severer Juvenal. Many of our proverbs were as familiar to Horace as to ourselves. "Money in purse will always be in fashion," and to "harp on the same string" are expressions, for instance, that were very familiar to the ancient Romans, and which are quite as intelligible to-day.

In the "Confessio Amantis" of Gower we find:

"A prouerbe I haue herde saie, That who that well his worke beginneth, The rather a good ende he winneth."

This proverb has historic interest, as its use on one fateful occasion was the final cause of desolating civil war that long ravaged Tuscany.

When Boundelmonte broke his engagement with a lady of the family of the Amadei, and married into another, the kinsmen a.s.sembled in council to consider how the slight should be avenged, and atonement made for their wounded honour. Some of the more impetuous demanded the death of the young cavalier as the only possible reparation; but others hesitated, not from any particular regard for the traitor, but because of the great issues involved--consequences which in the after-event proved so disastrous to the Florentines. At length Mosca Lamberti, tired of this hesitation, sprang to his feet, and declared that those who talked were not likely to do anything else but talk, that the consideration of the matter from every point of view would lead to no worthy result, and make them objects of contempt, and then quoted the adage familiar to them all--"Capo a cosa fatta"--well begun is half done. This sealed the fatal determination, the die was cast, Boundelmonte was murdered, and thus was Florence at once involved in the strife between Guelph and Ghibelline, and the fair land of Tuscany became the battlefield of those contending factions.

The incident is referred to by Dante in the "Inferno." Amid his wanderings in these gloomy shades he presently arrives where

"One deprived of both his hands, who stood Lifting the bleeding stumps amid the dim Dense air, so that his face was stained with blood, Cried--'In thy mind let Mosca take a place, Who said, alas! "Deed done is well begun,"

Words fraught with evil to the Tuscan race.'"

It is a widely recognised principle that those who live in gla.s.s houses themselves should be very careful how they throw stones at others, as retaliation is so fatally easy.[77:A] In a collection of "Proverbes en rimes," published in Paris in 1664, we find--

"Qui a sa maison de verre Sur le voisin ne jette pierre."

In the "Troilus" of Chaucer we find the same prudent abstinence from stone-throwing advocated, but in this case it is the stone-thrower's head and not his house that is in danger of reprisals.

"Who that hath an hede of verre Fro caste of stones war hym in the werre."

The use of the word "verre" instead of gla.s.s seems to suggest that the French version was so far current in England that all would know it, and that it was immaterial whether the rendering was in French or in English. When James of Scotland succeeded, at the death of Elizabeth, to the English throne, one of the first results was that London became inundated with Scotchmen, all anxious to reap some benefit from the new political position. This influx caused a considerable amount of jealousy, and the Duke of Buckingham organised a movement against them, and parties were formed for the purpose of breaking their windows, and in a general way making them feel the force of an adverse public opinion. By way of retaliation, a number of Scotchmen smashed the windows of the duke's mansion in St Martin's Fields, known as "the Gla.s.s House," and on his complaining to the king His Majesty replied, "Steenie, Steenie, those who live in gla.s.s houses should be carefu' how they fling stanes." The story is told in Seton's "Life of the Earl of Dunfermline," and it will be appreciated that the quotation by our "British Solomon" of this ancient adage was very neatly put in.

Those who pride themselves on a certain blunt directness of speech, and who declare that they always speak their mind, further define the position they take up by declaring that they call a spade a spade. There certainly are occasions when such a course is the only honest one, when a man has to make his protest and refuse to connive at any circ.u.mlocution or whittling away of principle. There are other occasions when a regard for the feelings of others makes such a proceeding sheer brutality, and it is, we believe, a well-established fact that the audience of those who pride themselves on speaking their mind ordinarily find that they are the victims of a somewhat unpleasant experience.

Baxter declares, "I have a strong natural inclination to speak of every subject just as it is, and to call a spade a spade, so as that the thing spoken of may be fullest known by the words. But I unfeignedly confess that it is faulty because imprudent." "I am plaine," we read in Marprelate's "Epitome," "I must needs call a spade a spade," and Ben Jonson advises to "boldly nominate a spade a spade."

In the year 1548 Archbishop Cranmer was busily engaged on a design for the better unity of all the Protestant churches by having one common confession and one body of doctrine drawn out of Holy Writ, to which all could give their a.s.sent. Melancthon, amongst others, was consulted by the archbishop, and was very favourable to the idea, but he strongly advised him, if the matter were to be carried to a successful issue, "to avoid all ambiguities of expression, call a spade a spade, and not cast words of dubious meaning before posterity as an apple of discord." Wise and weighty words that never fructified.

John Knox, who was not by any means the man to go out of his way to prophesy smooth things or palliate wrong-doing by any euphuism or a prudent turning away of the head, declares, "I have learned to call wickedness by its own terms, and to call a fig a fig and a spade a spade"; while Shakespeare, in his "Coriola.n.u.s," goes equally straight to the mark: "We call a nettle but a nettle, and the faults of fools but folly." Erasmus writes: "Ficus ficus, ligonem ligonem vocat" of a certain man.

Boileau in like manner writes, "J'appelle un chat un chat"; and Rabelais, "Nous sommes simples gents, puisqu'il plaist a Dieu: et appellons les figues figues, les prunes prunes, et les poires poires."

In the pages of Plutarch we read that Philip of Macedon, in answer to an irate amba.s.sador, who complained to him that the citizens on his way to the palace had called him a traitor, replied: "My subjects are a blunt people, and call things always by their right names. To them figs are figs, and they call spades spades." The adage is one of unknown antiquity, and may be found in the writings of Aristophanes, Demosthenes, Lucian, and other cla.s.sic authors. Erasmus, in his "Apophthegmes," published in 1542, tells the story of the discomfiture of the emba.s.sy to the Macedonian court very quaintly: "When those persons that were at Lasthenes found themselfes greued and toke fumishly that certain of the traine of Phillipus called theim traitours, Phillipus answered that the Macedonians were feloes of no fine witte in their termes, but altogether grosse, clubbish, and rusticall, as the whiche had not the witte to cal a spade by any other name than a spade, alluding to that the commen vsed prouerbe of the Grekes calling figgues figgues, and a bote a bote. As for his mening was that they were traitours in very deede. And the fair flatte truthe that the vplandishe or homely and play-clubbes of the countree dooen use, nameth eche thinge of the right names."

In Taverner's "Garden of Wysdome," published in 1539, the Macedonians are described as "very homely men and rudely brought vppe, which call a mattok nothing els but a mattok, and a spade a spade"--a very right and proper thing for Macedonians or anyone else to do on most occasions, but sometime a little too much like the unconscious brusqueness of children, who have in such matters no discretion, and who forget, or have never been taught, the more cautious precept that "all truths are not to be told on all occasions."

Those who, avoiding one difficulty, rashly run into a still greater dilemma, are warned, as in More's "Dial," that "they lepe lyke a flounder out of the fryenge panne into the fyre." Tertullian, Plato, and other early writers vary the wording to "Out of the smoke into the fire," but the pith of the matter is the same. Fire and smoke play their part in several adages. One of these, "If you will enjoy the fire you must not mind the smoke," recalls the days when the domestic arrangements were somewhat cruder than in those more luxurious days, but it still remains a valuable reminder that whatever advantages we may enjoy we must also be prepared for certain drawbacks. The Latin "Commodatis quaevis sua fert incommoda sec.u.m" covers the same ground; and the French, "Nul feu sans fumee"--no fire without smoke, no good without some inconvenience--echoes the same idea. On the other hand, "Where there is smoke there is fire," the appearance of evil is a warning that the evil exists, the loose word implies the loose life. As the effect we see cannot be causeless, it is a danger-signal that we must not ignore.

The present whiff of smoke, if disregarded, may be the herald of half an hour hence a raging conflagration, spreading ruin on every side.

When a strong comparison, the expression of a marked difference, is called for, we may, in the words of Shaclock, in his "Hatchet of Heresies," published in 1565, exclaim, "Do not these thynges differ as muche as chalcke and chese?" or, turning to the "Confessio Amantis" of Gower, find for our purpose, "Lo, how they feignen chalk for cheese!"

while Heywood hath it:

"That as well agreeth the comparison in these, As alyke to compare in tast, chalk and cheese."

Another popular proverb of our ancestors was "Fast bind, fast find."

Hence, on turning to the "Merchant of Venice," we find the admonition, "Do as I bid you. Shut doors after you: fast bind, fast find--a proverb never stale in thrifty mind"; and the counsel is found repeated in the "Jests of Scrogin," published in 1565: "Wherefore a plaine bargain is best, and in bargaines making, fast bind, fast find"--a certain business shrewdness, a legal doc.u.ment, even the turning of a key in a door, will at times preserve to us unimpaired property that carelessness would have lost to us.

"The more the merrier" is an adage that has a pleasantly hospitable ring about it, though we are reminded in addition that the multiplicity of guests may lead to a certain pinching in the supplies. Heywood reminds us how

"The more the merrier we all day here see, Yea, but the fewer the better fare, sayd he";

while Gascoigne, in his "Poesies," while he quotes with approval the old adage, "Store makes no sore"--no one is the worse for having a little reserve laid by--yet "Mo the merier is a proverbe eke" that must not be overlooked. "More the merrier" is the happy t.i.tle of a book of epigrams published in 1608, and we may come across the sentiment in two or three of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, and in many other directions.

Our readers will recall Spenser's eulogium on

"Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, On Fame's eternal beadroll worthie to be fyled."

The proverb-seeker finds in his picturesque pages abundant store. The "nonne preeste" exclaims, "Mordre wol out, that see we day by day," and in the Reve's prologue he reminds us that "Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken"; or, as a later writer hath it, "E'en in our ashes live our wonted fires." Chaucer again reminds us that "The proverbe saith that many a small makith a grete"; or, as it is sometimes given, "Many a little makes a mickle." The French tell us that even the drainage of the great deep is possible if only there be sufficient patience: "Goutte a goutte la mer s'egoute."[82:A] Every heart knows its own bitterness, knows all about that skeleton in the cupboard that the world has no suspicion of, knows just where the shoe pinches. Hence Chaucer exclaims, "But I wot best when wryngeth me my scho";[83:A] and in his "Testament of Love," where he writes, "Lo, eke an old proverb, he that is still seemeth as he granted," or, as we should say now-a-days, "Silence gives consent."[83:B] Another well-known adage and piece of worldly wisdom is, "Of two ills choose the least," a proverb found in the "Imitation of Christ" of a Kempis, in Hooker's "Polity," and elsewhere. Chaucer is to the fore with the saying, "Of harmes two the lesse is for to cheese." The saying appears as "E duobus malis minimum eligendum" in the pages of Cicero, so that it is not by any means an adage of yesterday's creation. It was, doubtless, a venerable saying long before Cicero employed it. When the idea got compacted into a recognised wisdom-chip, who can say? The rule of conduct is so clear and so in accordance with common-sense that we may well believe that the practice, if not the precept, would date from about the year one.

A "nine days' wonder" appears in the pages of the "Troilus" of Chaucer, as "Eke wonder last but nine daies never in towne." A thing makes a great sensation for a few days, and then something else arises, and the former matter is quite forgotten. Chaucer's addition to the adage of the limitation to town is curious, though on consideration a good deal can be said for it, since in towns incidents succeed each other quickly, and aid this obliteration of the past. Sometimes the proverb is extended into "A nine days' wonder, and then the puppy's eyes are open"--in allusion to the fact that dogs, like cats and several other animals, are born blind. One may read this as referring to those who make a wonder of an ordinary thing; the blindness of these little new-born puppies, or, in somewhat less literal sense, the puppies whose eyes are presently open, are those people who are blind and puzzled over some incident which they presently see through and unravel, and then lose all interest in.

As an encouragement to those who seem to be the victims of one misfortune after another, of continued ill fortune, the ancient saw is quoted, "'Tis a long lane has no turning." The expression is a picturesque one, and no doubt carries comfort and teaches patience. In the pages of Chaucer it appears as "Som tyme an end ther is on every deed." The only time we knew it absolutely to fail was in the case of an old man named Lane, who had his full share of the worries of life, and to whom one kindly well-wisher after another quoted this well-worn saying. Each thought that he had hit upon a happy idea, and applied it there and then, in full faith that it would be of soothing efficacy, but as, in the aggregate, the old fellow had had it fired off at him some hundreds of times, it acted instead as a powerful irritant! It was one trouble the more to carry through life.

One might, in the same way, though we have by no means exhausted the Chaucerian wealth of proverb-lore, hunt through the pages of Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, and other writers, and should reap an abundant harvest. It may be somewhat of a shock that Milton's name should appear in such a connection, since the stately dignity of his work would appear entirely alien to the general tone of the popular adage; but one sees in this pa.s.sage from "Comus"--

"Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining to the night?"--

a beautiful allusion to a well-known proverb. The plays of Shakespeare abound with these proverbial allusions. In the "Taming of the Shrew,"