I append a translation of the former letter:—
“London, 24th September 1706. — Sir, as soon as I got hold of the volume which you have had the goodness to procure for me, I selected seven chapters which I read with care; afterwards I made divers extracts from them. Thus I have seen that the basis upon which I have corrected, in more than a hundred places, the Acts and Scenes of Terence, is sure. I had already written out fairly, and in proper order, all that correction, after a double and careful revision. I have done the same for the catalogue of the persons in each comedy, distinguishing the
Personam in scenâ loquentes,
Personae post scenam,
Personae mutae.
Never had the requisite care been employed for this object, and, in the last article, the most exact scholars had committed palpable faults of omission and commission. For what remains, when a full hundred trumpets would stun me with the call to march in quick time, I would always go at my own pace. I was born perverse, and I do not move any further than at the time I feel inclined, though I always have a very sincere desire to go forward. This declaration applies to all written composition; as to giving lessons viva voce in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, I am always ready, and such occupation never fails to give me pleasure. For a whole month this recreation was not offered to me, not until to-day. The three sources of the difficulties which you find in Terence embarrass those who have not read him with accuracy, and with the theory of criticism which long experience has elucidated and corroborated. This author, and Sallust also, not to name several others, have this excellency, that when one has once disentangled the knots which are encountered, every reason for dubiety is removed, and no ground is left for scepticism. This proceeds from the perfect consistency of their writing. Others of an inferior rank are sometimes obscure, and leave matter for hesitation, even in the passages which have been cleared up the most. The greatest obstacle to the progress of classical literature, and to the pleasure it has the power to give, is that those who teach the classics to our youth are deficient in neatly-expressed and well-grounded ideas, in diligence, in preparation, in a lively predilection for teaching. This is to be affirmed only of the majority of masters, for I would be too rash if I passed judgment upon all. I asked yesterday at Lord Sunderland’s for what has been written on the Heautontimoroumenos by the Abbé Menage and the Abbé D’Aubignac, and also for the latter author’s work, ‘Le Terence Justifié.’ I should own myself mistaken if his critique had to yield to that of the former author. Madame Dacier arranges very ill the twelve hours within which she, following other writers, truly says that the acts of the above-named play are completed. The programme of the twelve hours is there observed with the utmost precision and with complete demonstration, but a demonstrator may lose his way, and, in aiming at the goal, I have been obliged to apply the measuring-line to things great and small, and to each circumstance in detail. After all, I do not know at all what will become of this plaything of mine, and of others like it, considering that I am the kind of man whose portrait I have drawn in this letter. Keep it, I beg of you, that it may serve as my apology, should I be in need of one. My wife salutes you with respect, and my son will respond in some measure worthy of the honour which you do to him. I ask your permission to pay Mr Vaillant for the book arrived from Paris, and which that gentleman’s apprentice brought me. I will make inquiry quietly, and as occasion permits, for what I yesterday applied for at Lord Sunderland’s. If I had the use of the books for a single day, that would suffice; and if they never reach me I will do without them. What consoles me for my slowness and heaviness, or whatever people please to call it, is that assuredly whatever I leave undone is what I am unable to do. I have good projects, but a thousand circumstances rule me and absolutely master me. Happily I am not ashamed of anything in particular, and I love always, and above all things, the One Thing Needful [la seule chose necessaire]. Let us love that with a singular love, my dear sir. What the world values above it is infinitely beneath it. I cannot understand how my pen compels me to discourse with you so long, but it goes on, beyond its limits, through the ardour of the affection towards you, always to be felt by, Sir, your very humble and very obedient servant,
“Pour Monsieur Des Maizeaux.”
The son’s letter is from Hoxton, 28th February 1716, and is signed D. Cappel. He thanks Des Maizeaux for having exerted himself to get him a situation, but prefers to adhere to la petite fonction à quoi je suis presentement occupé. He adds, “My father assures you of his very humble civilities. When you see Monsieur Diserote, I beg you will assure him of mine.” The next year (26th September this young man, described as “Daniel Cappel of Saumur,” married Catherine Dorey of Jersey. (See my Historical Introduction, Section viii.)
