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Take Eurus, Eephyr, Auster, and Boreas, and cast them together in one verse: add to these of rain, lightning, and thunder (the loudest youjran) quantum sujjicit; mix your clouds and billows well together till they foam, and thicken your description here and there with a quicksand. Brew your tempest well in your head, before you set it ablowing.

For a battle. Pick a large quantity of images and descriptions from Homer's Iliad, with a spice or two of Virgil; and if there remain any overplus, you may lay them by for a skirmish.' Season it well with similes, and it will make an excellent battle.

For a burning town. If such a de

• scriptioh be necessary (because it is certain there is one in Virgil) old Troy is ready burnt to your hands: but if you fear that would be thought borrowed, a chapter or two of the Theory of

. the Conflagration, well circumstanced and done into verse, will be a good succedaneum.

As for similes and metaphors, they may be found all over the creation; the most ignorant may gather them: but the difficulty is in applying them. For this advise with your bookseller.


§ 37. The Duty es a Clerk.

No sooner was I elected into my office, but I laid aside the powdered gallantries of my youth, and became a new man. I considered myself as in some wife of ecclesiastical dignity; since by wearing a band, which is no small part of the ornament of our clergy, I might not unworthily be deemed, as it were, a flued of the linen vestment of Aaron.

Thou may'st conceive, O reader, with what concern I perceived the eyes of the congregation fixed upon me, when I first took my place at the feet of the priest. When I raised the psalm, how did my voice quaver for fear! and when I arrayed the shoulders of the minister with the surplice, how did my joints tremble under me! I said within myself, «• Remember, Paul, thou '• standest before men of high worship; I' the wise Mr. Justice Freeman, the

grave Mr. Justice Tonson, the good "Lady Jones, and the two virtuous "gentleXvomen her daughters; nay, "the great SirThomasTruby, Knight "and Baronet, and my young master "the Esquire, who shall one day be "lord of this manor." Notwithstanding which, it was my good hap to acquit myself to the good liking of the whole congregation ; but the Lord forbid I should glory therein.

• • • • •

I was determined to reform the manifold corruptions and abuses which had crept into the church.

First, I was especially severe in whipping forth dogs from the temple, all excepting the lap-dog of the good wislow Howard, a sober dog which yelped not, nor was there offence in his mouth.

Secondly, I did even proceed to morosenefs, though fore against my heart, unto poor, in tearing from them the half-eaten apples which they privily munched at church. But verily it pitied me; for I remember the days of my youth.

Thirdly, With the sweat of my own hands, I did make plain and smooth the dogs-ears throughout our great Bible.

Fourthly, The pews and benches, which were formerly swept but once in three years, I caused every Saturday to be swept with a besom, and trimmed.

Fifthly, and lastly, I caused the surplice to be neatly darned, washed, and laid in fresh lavender (yea, and sometimes to be sprinkled with rose-water); and I had great laud and praise from, all the neigbouring clergy, forasmuch as no parish kept the minister in cleaner


• • • * »

Shoes did I make (and, if in treated, mend) with good approbation. Faces also did I shave; and I clipped the hair. Chirurgery also I practised in the worming of dogs ; but to bleed adventured I not, except the poor. Upon this my two-fold profession, there passed among men a merry tale, delectable enough to be rchearsed: How that, being overtaken with liquor one Saturday evening, I shaved

X x 3 the

the priest with Spanish blacking for flioes instead of a wash-ball^ and with lamp-biack powdered hi? perriwig. But these were sayings of men delighting in their own conceits more than in the truth: fer it is well known, that great was my care and skill in these my crafts; yea, I once had the honour of trimming Sir Thomas himself, without fetching blood. Furthermore, I was fought unto to geld the Lady Frances her spaniel, which was wont to go astray: he was called Toby, that is to W, Tobias. And, thirdly, I was intrusted with a gorgeous pair of shoes of the said lady, to set an heel-piece thereon ; and I received such praise therefore, that it was said all over the parish, I should be recommended unto the king to mend shoes for his majesty: Whom God preserve-! Amen. Pope.

§ 38. Cruelty to Animals.

Montaigne thinks it some reflection upon human nature itself, that few people take delight in seeing beasts caress or play together, but almost every one is pleased to see them lacerate and worry one another. I am sorry this temper is become almost a distinguishing character of our own nation, from the observation which is made' by foreigners of our beloved pastimes, bearbaiting, cock-fighting, and the like. We should find it hard to vindicate the destroying of any thing that has life, merely out of wantonness: yet in this principle our children are bred up } and one of the first pleasures we allow them, is the licence of inflicting pain upon poor animals: almost as soon as we are sensible what life is ourselves, we make it our sport to take it from • other creatures. { cannot but believe a very good use might be made of the fancy which children hare for birds and insects. Mr. Locke takes notice of a mother who permitted them to her children, but rewarded or punished them as they treated them well or ill. This was no other than entering them betimes into a daily exercise of humanity, and improving their very diver* Con to a virtue.

I fancy, too, some advantage might be taken of the common notion, that

'tis ominous or unlucky to destroy sofle sorts of birds, as swallows and martins. This opinion might possibly arise from the confidence these birds seem to put in us by building under our roofs; so that it is a kind of violation of the 'laws of hospitality to murder them. As for Robin red-breasts in particular, it is not improbable they owe their security to the old ballad of " The children in the wood." However it be, I don't know, I fay, why this prejudice, well improved and carried as far as it would go, might not be made to conduce to the preservation of many innocent creatures, which are now exposed to all the wantonness of an ignorant barbarity.

There are other animals that have the misfortune, for no manner of reason, to be treated as common enemies, wherever found. The conceit that a cat has nine lives has cost at least nine lives in ten of the whole race of them: scarce a boy in the streets but has in this point outdone Hercules himself, who was famous' for killing a monster that had but three lives. Whether the unaccountable animofity against thij useful domestic may be any cause of the general persecution of owls (who are a sort of feathered cats) or whether it be only- an unreasonable pique the moderns have taken to a serious counte. nance, I shall not-deterroine: though. I am inclined to believe the former ■ since I observe the sole reason alledged for the destruction of frogs is because they are like toads. Yet, amidst all the misfortunes of these unfriended creatures, *tis some happiness that we have not yet taken a fancy to eat them: for should our countrymen refine upon the French never so little, 'tis not to be c6nceived to what unheard-of torments, owls, cats, and frogs, may be yet reserved.

When we grow up to men, we have another succession of sanguinary sports; in particular, hunting. I dare not at. tack a diversion which has such authority and custom to support it; but mult have leave to be of opinion, that the agitation of that exercise, with the example and number of the chasers, not a little contributes to resist those


checks, which compassion would natu-
rally suggest in behalf of the animal
pursued. Nor shall I say, with Mon-
sieur Fleury, that this sport is a remain
of the Gothic barbarity ; but I must
animadvert upon a certain custom yet
in use with us, and barbarous enough
to be derived from the Goths, or even
the Scythians: I mean that savage com-
pliment our huntsmen pass upon ladies
of quality, who are present at the death
of a stag, when they put the knife in
their hands to cut the throat of a help-
less, trembling, and weeping creature.

Questuque cruentuJ,
Atque imploranti fimilis.

But if oar sports are destructive, our gluttony is more so, and in a more inhuman manner. Lobsters roasted alive, pigs whipped to death, fowls sewed up, are testimonies of our outrageous luxury. Those who (as Seneca expresses it) divide their lives betwixt an anxious conscience, and a nauseated stomach, have a just reward of their gluttony in the diseases it brings with it: for human savages,' like other wild beasts, find snares and poison in the provisions of life, and are allured by their appetite to their destruction. I know nothing more shocking, or horrid, than the prospect of one of their kitchens covered with blood, and silled with the cries of the creatures expiring in tortures. It gives one an image of a giant's den, in a romance, bestrewed with the scattered heads and mangled limbs of those who were slain by his cruelty. Pope.

§ 39. Pastoral Comtdy.

I have not attempted any thing of a pastoral comedy, because, I think, the taste of our age will not relish a poem of that sort. People seek for what they call wit, on all subjects, and in all places; not considering that nature loves truth so well, that it hardly ever admits of flourishing. Cona-it is. to nature what paint is to beauty; it is not only needless, but impairs what it would improve. There is a certain majesty in simplicity, which is far aboveall the quaintness of wit: info, much that the critics have excluded

. wit from the loftiest poetry, as well as the lowest, and forbid it to the epic no less than the pastoral. I should certainly displease all those who are charmed with Guarini and Bonarelli, and imitate Tasso not only in the simplicity of his thoughts, but in that of the fable too. If surprising discoveries should have place in the story of a pastoral co. medy, I believe it would be more agreeable to probability to make them the effects of chance than of design; intrigue not being very consistent with that innocence, which ought to constitute a shepherd's character. There is nothing in all the Aminta (as I remember) but happens by mere accident; unless it be the meeting of Aminta with Sylvia at the fountain, which is the contrivance of Daphne ; and even, that is the most simple in the world; the contrary is observable in Pastor Fido, where Corisca is so perfect a mistress of intrigue, that the plot could not have been brought to pass without her. I am inclined to think the pastoral comedy has another disadvantage, as to. the manners: its general design, is to make us in love with the innocence of a rural life, so that to introduce shepherds of a vicious character must in some measure debase it; and hence it may come to pass,' that even the virtuous characters will not shine so much, for want of being opposed,to their contraries. Ibid.

. $ 40, Degf. Plutarch, relating how the Athenians were obliged to abandon Athens in the time of Themillocles, steps back again out of the way of his history, purely to describe the lamentablf cries and howlings of the poor dogs they left behind. He makes mention of one, that followed his master across the sea to Salamis, where he died, and was honoured with a tomb by the Athenians, who gave the name of The Dog's Grave to that part of the island where he was buried. This respect to a dog, in the most polite people in the world, is very observable. A modern instance of gratitude 10 a dog (though we have but few such) is, that the chief order of Denmark (nowinjuriously called rhe order of the Elephant) was instituted Xx 4 'in

in memory of the fidelity of a dog, named Wild - brat, to one of their kings, who had been deserted by his subjects: he gave his order this motto, or to this effect (which still remains) "Wi'd-brat was faithful." Sir William Trumbull has told me a story, which he heard from one that was present: King Charles I. being with some of his court during his troubles, a discourse arose what sort of dogs deserved pre eminence, and it being on all hands agreed to belong either to the spaniel or grey-hound, the king gave his opinion on the part of the grey-hound, because ssaid he) it has'all the goodnature of the other without the fawning. A good piece of satire upon his courtiers, with which I will conclude my discourse of dogs. Call me a Cynic, or what you please, in revenge for all this impertinence, I will be contented ; provided you will but believe me, when I fay a bold word for a Christian, that, of all dogs, you wjll find none more faithful than, Yours, &c.


§ 41. Lady Mary Worthy Montagus.

The more I examine my own mind, the more romantic I find myself. Methinks it is a noble spirit of contradiction to fate and fortune, not to give up those that are snatched from us; but to follow them- the more, the farther they are removed from the fense of it. Sure, flattery never travelled so far as three thousand miles; it is now only for truth, which overtakes all things, to reach you at this distance. 'Tis a generous piece of popery, that pursues evtn those who are to be eternally absent into another world: whether you think it right or wrong, you'll own the very extravagance a sort of piety. I can't be satisfied with strewing flowers over you, and barely honouring you as a thing lost; but must consider you as a glorious though remote being, and be sending addresses after you. You have carried away ib much of me, that what remains is daily languishing and dvingover my acquaintance here ; apd, I believe, in three or four months more I shall think Aurat Bazar as good a piece as Covent-Garden, You may

imagine this is raillery; but I am really so far gone, as to take pleasure in reveries of this kind. Let them fay I am romantic; so is every one said to be, that either admires a fine thing, or does one. On my conscience, as the world goes, 'tis hardly worth any body's while to do one for the honour of it: glory, the only pay of generous actions, is now as ill paid as other just debts; and neither Mrs. Macfarland, for immolating her lover, nor you, for constancy to your lord, must ever hope to be compared to Lucretia or Portia.

I write this in some anger; for having, since you went, frequented those people most, who seemed most in your favour, I heard noching that concerned you talked of so often, as that you went away in a black full-bottomed wig; which I did but assert to be a bob, and was answered, "'Love is blind." I am persuaded your wig had never suffered this criticism, but on the score of your head, and the two eyes that are in it.

Pray, when you write to me, talk of yourself; there is nothing I so much desire to hear of: talk a great deal of yourself; that (he who I always thought talked the best, may speak upon the best subject. The shrines and reliques you tell me of, no way engage my curiosity; I had ten times rather go on pilgrimage to fee one such face as yours, than both St. John Baptist's heads. I wish (since you are grown so covetous of golden things) you had not only all the sine statues you talk of, but even the golden image which Nebuchadnezzar set up, provided you were to travel no farther than you could carry it.

The court of Vienna is very edifying. The ladies, with respect to their husbands, seem to understand that text literally, that commands to bear one another's burdens : but, I fancy, many a man there is like Issachar, an ass between two burdens. I shall look up. on you no more as a Christian, when you pass from that charitable court to the land of jealousy. I expect to hear an exact account how, and at what places, you leave one of the thirty-nine articles after another, as you approach. to the land of infidelity. Pray how far are yon got already? Amidst the pomp of a high mass, and the ravishing trills of a Sunday opera, what did you think of the doctrine and discipline of the church of England? Had you from your heart a reverence for Sternhold and Hopkins? How did your Christian virtues hold out in so long a voyage? You have, it seems (without palling the bounds of Christendom) out-travelled the sin of fornication: in a little time you'll look upon some others with more patience'than the ladies here are capable of. I reckon, you'll time it so well as to make your religion last to the verge of Christendom, that you may discharge your chaplain (as humanity requires) in a place where he may find some business.

I doubt not but I shall be told (when I come to follow you through those countries) in how pretty a manner you accommodated yourself to the customs of the true Mussulmen. They will tell me at what town you practised to fit on the sopha, at what village you learned to fold a turban, whereyou was bathed and anointed, and where you parted with your black full-bottom. How happy must it be for a gay young woman, to live in a country where it is H part of religious worship to be giddyheaded 1 J shall hear at Belgrade how the good bashaw received you with tears of joy, how he was charmed with your agreeable manner of pronouncing the words Allah and Muhamed; and how earnestly you joined with him in exhorting your friend to embrace that religion. But I think his objection was a just one; that it was attended with some circumstances under which he could not properly represent his Britannic majesty.

Lastly, I shall hear how, the first night you lay at Pera, you-had a vision os Mahomet's paradise, and happily awaked without a soul; from which blessed moment the beautiful body was left at full liberty to perform all the agreeable functions it was made for.

J fee I have done in this letter, as I often have done in your company; talked myself into a gooJ humour, when I begun in an ill one: the pleasure of addressing to you makes me run pn;

and 'tis in your power to shorten thi» letter as much as you please, by giving over when you please: so I'll make it uo longer by apologies. Post.

§ 42. The Manners of a Bookfclltr* To the Earl of Burlington. My Lord, If your mare could speak, she would give an account of what extraordinary company she had on the road; which, since she cannot do, I will.

It was the enterprising Mr. Lintot, the redoubtable rival of Mr. Tonson, who, mounted on a stone-horse (no disagreeable companion to your lordship'* mare) overtook me in Windsor-forest. He said, he heard \ designed for Oxford, the seat of the Muses ; and would, as my bookseller, by all means, accompany me thither.

1 asked him where he got his horfc? He answered, he got it os his publisher: "For that rogae my printer (said he) "disappointed me: I hoped to put "him in good humour by a treat at the *' tavern, of a brown fricassee of rabbits, "which cost two shilling?, with two "quarts of wine, besides my bonversa"tion. I thought myself cock-sure of "his horse, which he readily pr-mised "me, but said that Mr. Tonson had "just such another design of going to '* Cambridge, expecting there the copy "of a new kind of Horace from Dr.

*' ;and if Mr. Tonson went, he

"was pre-engaged to attend him, "being to have the printing of the said "copy.

"So, in short, I borrowed this stone"horse of mv publisher, which he had "of Mr. Oldmixon tor a debt; he lent "me, too, the pretty boy you see after "me: he was a smutty dog yesterday, "and coll me near two hours to wash f the ink off his face: but the devil is "a (air-conditioned devil, and very "forward in his catechise: if you have "any more bags, he shall carry "them."

I thought Mr. Lintot's civility not to be neglected; so gave the boy a small b.ip, containing three shirts, and an Elzevir Virgil ; and mounting in an instant, proceeded on the rn*id, with my man before, my courteous


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