Arachne and the Poets. 1 99 



When addressed as the actual insect in nature, spiders 

 are generally "cruel," "delusive," "false," and "venomous." 

 One poet calls them " villains ; " another, " wily ruffians, 

 gaunt and grim." They are "blood-bloated" and "all- 

 bellied." Yet it is immensely to the credit of poets that 

 they should in the case of this insect so notoriously 

 unpopular and unprepossessing have been so often fair to 

 it. Such justice is eminently unpoetical that is to say, 

 extremely rare in poetry, for, as a rule, poets adopt vulgar 

 prejudices, and punctually inculcate them. It is true that 

 in legends spiders are more often benign than malignant, 

 affording another illustration of the tendency of folk-lore to 

 look upon ugliness only as the masquerading domino of an 

 enchanted goodness, and on misfortune in figure as the 

 disguise of fortune of other kinds. So toads are often 

 beneficent; serpents nearly always so. Humanity, in the 

 real heart of it, is tenderly sympathetic. When the proper 

 time comes everybody hopes bad will turn back to good, 

 and ugly to beautiful. Folk-tale always ends in the recovery 

 of lost possessions, the resumption of original charms. 



But poets are not, as a rule, appreciative of the deeper 

 sense of animal legends. Superficial ideas, such as the 

 accidents of Holy Writ or the traditions of heraldry afford, 

 they reproduce and elaborate, but they seldom catch the 

 true spirit of the humanities about animals. So it has 

 always seemed to me. The present instance, then, is 

 exceptional and of some interest. 



Its explanation, no doubt, is the poets' admiration of 

 industry. So the spider is " grave," " patient," " industrious," 

 and " a house- wife," and more than one bard comes forward 

 to directly praise the insect. Southey, a very hard-working 

 man himself, has a strong fellow-feeling with it : 



" Spider ! thoti need'st not run in fear about 

 To shun my curious eyes, 



