'He then led me to the highest Pinnacle of the Rock, and 'placing me on the Top of it, Cast thy Eyes Eastward, said 'he, and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge 'Valley, and a prodigious Tide of Water rolling through it. "The Valley that thou seest, said he, is the Vale of Misery, ' and the Tide of Water that thou seest is part of the great 'Tide of Eternity. What is the Reason, said I, that the 'Tide I see rises out of a thick Mist at one End, and again 'loses itself in a thick Mist at the other? What thou seest, 'said he, is that Portion of Eternity which is called Time, 'measured out by the Sun, and reaching from the Beginning ' of the World to its Consummation. Examine now, said he, 'this Sea that is bounded with Darkness at both Ends, and 'tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a Bridge, said I, 'standing in the Midst of the Tide. The Bridge thou seest, 'said he, is human Life, consider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely Survey of it, I found that it consisted of 'threescore and ten entire Arches, with several broken Arches, 'which added to those that were entire, made up the Number 'about an hundred. As I was counting the Arches, the 'Genius told me that this Bridge consisted at first of a thou'sand Arches; but that a great Flood swept away the rest, ' and left the Bridge in the ruinous Condition I now behold 'it: But tell me further, said he, what thou discoverest on 'it. I see multitudes of People passing over it, said I, and a 'black Cloud hanging on each End of it. As I looked more 'attentively, I saw several of the Passengers dropping thro' 'the Bridge, into the great Tide that flowed underneath it; and upon farther Examination, perceived there were in'numerable Trap-doors that lay concealed in the Bridge, which the Passengers no sooner trod upon, but they fell 'thro' them into the Tide and immediately disappeared. These hidden Pit-falls were set very thick at the Entrance of the Bridge, so that the Throngs of People no sooner broke 'through the Cloud, but many of them fell into them. They 'grew thinner towards the Middle, but multiplied and lay closer together towards the End of the Arches that were ' entire.

There were indeed some Persons, but their Number was ' very small, that continued a kind of hobbling March on the 'broken Arches, but fell through one after another, being 'quite tired and spent with so long a walk.

'I passed some Time in the Contemplation of this wonder'ful Structure, and the great Variety of objects which it 'presented. My Heart was filled with a deep Melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in the midst of Mirth ' and Jollity, and catching at every thing that stood by them 'to save themselves. Some were looking up towards the 'Heavens in a thoughtful Posture, and in the midst of a 'Speculation stumbled and fell out of Sight. Multitudes were very busy in the Pursuit of Bubbles that glittered in their Eyes and danced before them; but often when 'they thought themselves within the reach of them their 'Footing failed and down they sunk. In this Confusion of Objects, I observed some with Scymetars in their Hands, and others with Urinals, who ran to and fro upon the 'Bridge, thrusting several Persons on Trap-doors which did 'not seem to [lie in their Way,] and which they might have 'escaped had they not been forced upon them.

'The Genius seeing me indulge my self in this melancholy 'Prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it: Take 'thine Eyes off the Bridge, said he, and tell me if thou yet 'scest any thing thou dost not comprehend. Upon looking 'up, What mean, said I, those great Flights of Birds that are 'perpetually hovering about the Bridge, and settling upon it 'from time to time? I see Vultures, Harpyes, Ravens, Cor'morants, and among many other feather'd Creatures several

'little winged Boys, that perch in great Numbers upon the 'middle Arches. These, said the Genius, are Envy, Avarice, 'Superstition, Despair, Love, with the like Cares and Passions 'that Infest human Life.

"

'I here fetched a deep Sigh, Alas, said I, Man was made 'in vain! How is he given away to Misery and Mortality! 'tortured in Life, and swallowed up in Death! The Genius being moved with Compassion towards me, bid me quit so 'uncomfortable a Prospect: Look no more, said he, on Man in the first Stage of his Existence, in his setting out for Eternity; but cast thine Eye on that thick Mist into which 'the Tide bears the several Generations of Mortals that fall 'into it. I directed my Sight as I was ordered, and (whe'ther or no the good Genius strengthened it with any super'natural Force, or dissipated Part of the Mist that was before 'too thick for the Eye to penetrate) I saw the Valley opening 'at the farther End, and spreading forth into an immense 'Ocean that had a huge Rock of Adamant running through 'the Midst of it, and dividing it into two equal Parts. The 'Clouds still rested on one Half of it, insomuch that I could 'discover nothing in it: But the other appeared to me a 'vast Ocean planted with innumerable Islands, that were 'covered with Fruits and Flowers, and interwoven with a 'thousand little shining Seas that ran among them. I could 'sec Persons dressed in glorious Habits with Garlands upon 'their Heads, passing among the Trees, lying down by the 'Side of Fountains, or resting on Beds of Flowers; and could 'hear a confused Harmony of singing Birds, falling Waters, 'human Voices, and musical Instruments. Gladness grew in 'me upon the Discovery of so delightful a Scene. I wished 'for the Wings of an Eagle, that I might fly away to those 'happy Seats; but the Genius told me there was no Passage 'to them, except through the Gates of Death that I saw 'opening every Moment upon the Bridge. The Islands, said 'he, that lie so fresh and green before thee, and with which 'the whole Face of the Ocean appears spotted as far as thou 'canst see, are more in Number than the Sands on the Sea'shore; there are Myriads of Islands behind those which thou 'here discoverest, reaching further than thine Eye, or even thine Imagination can extend itself. These are the Mansions of good Men after Death, who according to the Degree and 'Kinds of Virtue in which they excelled, are distributed ' among the several Islands, which abound with Pleasures of 'different Kinds and Degrees, suitable to the Relishes and 'Perfections of those who are settled in them; every Island is a Paradise accommodated to its respective Inhabitants. 'Are not these, O Mirzah, Habitations worth contending for? Does Life appear miserable, that gives thee Opportunities of 'earning such a Reward? Is Death to be feared, that will 'convey thee to so happy an Existence? Think not Man 'was made in vain, who has such an Eternity reserved for 'him. I gazed with inexpressible Pleasure on the happy 'Islands. At length, said I, show me now, I beseech thee, 'the Secrets that lie hid under those dark Clouds which cover 'the Ocean on the other side of the Rock of Adamant. The 'Genius making me no Answer, I turned about to address 'myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left 'me; I then turned again to the Vision which I had been so 'long contemplating; but Instead of the rolling Tide, the 'arched Bridge, and the happy Islands, I saw nothing but 'the long hollow Valley of Bagdat, with Oxen, Sheep, and 'Camels grazing upon the Sides of it.

The End of the first Vision of Mirzah.

C.

Finally, here are two papers by Addison, Nos. 106 and 112, developing the character of Sir Roger de Coverley.

Hic tibi Copia

Manabit ad plenum, benigno

Ruris honorum opulenta cornu.1-HOR.

Having often received an Invitation from my Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY to pass away a Month with him in the Country, I last Week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his Country-house, where I intend to form several of my ensuing Speculations. Sir ROGER, who is very well acquainted with my Humour, lets me rise and go to Bed when I please, dine at his own Table or in my Chamber as I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the Gentlemen of the Country come to see him, he only shews me at a Distance: As I have been walking in his Fields I have observed them stealing a Sight of me over an Hedge, and have heard the Knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at.

I am the more at Ease in Sir ROGER'S Family, because it consists of sober and staid Persons; for as the Knight is the best Master in the World, he seldom changes his Servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, his Servants never care for leaving him; by this means his Domesticks are all in Years, and grown old with their Master. You would take his Valet de Chambre for his Brother, his Butler is greyheaded, his Groom is one of the gravest Men that I have ever seen, and his Coachman has the Looks of a Privy-Counsellor. You see the Goodness of the Master even in the old Housedog, and in a grey Pad that is kept in the Stable with great Care and Tenderness out of Regard to his past Services, tho' he has been useless for several Years.

I could not but observe with a great deal of Pleasure the Joy that appeared in the Countenances of these ancient Domesticks upon my Friend's Arrival at his Country-Seat. Some of them could not refrain from Tears at the Sight of their old Master; every one of them press'd forward to do something for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At the same time the good old Knight, with a Mixture of the Father and the Master of the Family, tempered the Enquiries after his own Affairs with several kind Questions relating to themselves. This Humanity and good Nature engages every Body to him, so that when he is pleasant upon any of them, all his Family are in good Humour, and none so much as the Person whom he diverts himself with: On the contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any Infirmity of old Age, it is easy for a Stander-by to observe a secret Concern in the Looks of all his Servants.2

1 Horace, Ode I., xvii., 14—16.

"Rural honours, rural treasures, Thou shalt have them to thy fill."

Hugo N. Jones's Translation.

2 Thomas Tyers in his Historical Essay on Mr. Addison (1783) first named Sir John Pakington, of Westwood, Worcestershire, as the original of Sir Roger de Coverley. But there is no real parallel. Sir John, as Mr. W. H. Wills has pointed out in his delightful annotated collection of the Sir Roger de Coverley papers, was twice married, a barrister, Recorder of the City of Worcester, and M.P. for his native county, in every Parliament but one, from his majority till his death. The name of Roger of Coverley applied to a contre-dance (i. e. a dance in which partners stand in opposite rows) Anglicised Country-Dance, was ascribed to the house of Calverley in Yorkshire, by an ingenious member thereof, Ralph Thoresby, who has left a MS. account of the family written in 1717. Mr. Thoresby has it that Sir Roger of Calverly in the time of Richard I. had a harper who was the composer of this tune; his evidence being, apparently, that persons of the name of Harper had lands in the neighbourhood of Calverley. Mr. W. Chappell, who repeats this statement in his 'Popular Music of the Olden 'Time,' says that in a MS. of the beginning of the last century, this tune is called 'Old Roger of Coverlay for evermore. A Lancashire 'Hornpipe.' In the Dancing Master of 1696, it is called 'Roger of 'Coverley.' Mr. Chappell quotes also, in illustration of the familiar knowledge of this tune and its name in Addison's time, from the

My worthy Friend has put me under the particular Care of his Butler, who is a very prudent Man, and, as well as the rest of his Fellow-Servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard their Master talk of me as of his particular Friend.

My chief Companion, when Sir ROGER is diverting himself in the Woods or the Fields, is a very venerable Man who is ever with Sir ROGER, and has lived at his House in the Nature of a Chaplain above thirty Years. This Gentleman is a Person of good Sense and some Learning, of a very regular Life and obliging Conversation: He heartily loves Sir ROGER, and knows that he is very much in the old Knight's Esteem, so that he lives in the Family rather as a Relation than a Dependant.

I have observed in several of my Papers, that my Friend Sir ROGER, amidst all his good Qualities, is something of an Humourist; and that his Virtues, as well as Imperfections, are as it were tinged by a certain Extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and distinguishes them from those of other Men. This Cast of Mind, as it is generally very innocent in it self, so it renders his Conversation highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same Degree of Sense and Virtue would appear in their common and ordinary Colours. As I was walking with him last Night, he asked me how I liked the good Man whom I have just now mentioned? and without staying for my Answer told me, That he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own Table; for which Reason he desired a particular Friend of his at the University to find him out a Clergyman rather of plain Sense than much Learning, of a good Aspect, a clear Voice, a sociable Temper, and, if possible, a Man that understood a little of Back-Gammon. My Friend, says Sir ROGER, found me out this Gentleman, who, besides the Endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good Scholar, tho' he does not shew it. I have given him the Parsonage of the Parish; and because I know his Value have settled upon him a good Annuity for Life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he was higher in my Esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty Years; and tho' he does not know I have taken Notice of it, has never in all that time asked anything of me for himself, tho' he is every Day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or other of my Tenants his Parishioners. There has not been a Law-suit in the Parish since he has liv'd among them: If any Dispute arises they apply themselves to him for the Decision; if they do not acquiesce in his Judgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a Present of all the good Sermons which have been printed in English, and only begg'd of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the Pulpit. Accordingly, he has digested them into such a Series, that they follow one another naturally, and make a continued System of practical Divinity.

As Sir ROGER was going on in his Story, the Gentleman we were talking of came up to us; and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to morrow (for it was Saturday Night) told us, the Bishop of St. Asaph in the Morning, and Dr. South in the Afternoon. He then shewed us his List of Preachers for the whole Year, where I saw with a great deal of Pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Doctor Barrow, Doctor Calamy,3 with several living Authors who

'History of Robert Powell, the Puppet Showman (1715),' that 'upon 'the Preludis being ended, each party fell to bawling and calling for 'particular tunes. The hobnail'd fellows, whose breeches and lungs 'seem'd to be of the same leather, cried out for Cheshire Rounds, 'Roger of Coverly,' &c.

3 Archbishop Tillotson's Sermons appeared in 14 volumes, small

have published Discourses of Practical Divinity. I no sooner saw this venerable Man in the Pulpit, but I very much approved of my Friend's insisting upon the Qualifications of a good Aspect and a clear Voice; for I was so charmed with the Gracefulness of his Figure and Delivery, as well as with the Discourses he pronounced, that I think I never passed any Time more to my Satisfaction. A Sermon repeated after this Manner, is like the Composition of a Poet in the Mouth of a graceful Actor.

I could heartily wish that more of our Country Clergy would follow this Example; and instead of wasting their Spirit in laborious Compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome Elocution, and all those other Talents that are proper to enforce what has been penned by greater Masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more edifying to the People. L.

Αθανάτους μεν πρῶτα θεοὺς, νόμῳ ὡς διάκειται.
Τιμά!— ΡΥΤΗ.

I am always very well pleased with a Country Sunday; and think, if keeping holy the Seventh Day were only a human Institution, it would be the best Method that could have been thought of for the polishing and civilizing of Mankind. It is certain the Country-People would soon degenerate into a kind of Savages and Barbarians, were there not such frequent Returns of a stated Time, in which the whole Village meet together with their best Faces, and in their cleanliest Habits, to converse with one another upon indifferent Subjects, hear their Duties explained to them, and join together in Adoration of the Supreme Being. Sunday clears away the Rust of the whole Week, not only as it refreshes in their Minds the Notions of Religion, but as it puts both the Sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities as are apt to give them a Figure in the Eye of the Village. A Country-Fellow distinguishes himself as much in the Church-yard, as a Citizen does upon the Change, the whole Parish-Politics being generally discussed in that Place either after Sermon or before the Bell rings.

My Friend Sir ROGER, being a good Churchman, has beautified the Inside of his Church with several Texts of his own chusing: He has likewise given a handsome PulpitCloth, and railed in the Communion-Table at his own Expence. He has often told me, that at his coming to his Estate he found his Parishioners very irregular; and that in order to make them kneel and join in the Responses, he gave every one of them a Hassock and a Common-prayer Book: and at the same time employed an itinerant Singing-Master, who goes about the Country for that Purpose, to instruct

8vo, published at intervals; the first in 1671; the second in 1678; the third in 1682; the fourth in 1694; and the others after his death in that year. Robert Sanderson, who died in 1663, was a friend of Laud and chaplain to Charles I., who made him Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford. At the Restoration he was made Bishop of Lincoln. His fame was high for piety and learning. The best edition of his Sermons was the eighth, published in 1687: Thirty-six Sermons, with Life by Izaak Walton. Isaac Barrow, Theologian and Mathematician, Cambridge Professor and Master of Trinity, died in 1677. His Works were edited by Archbishop Tillotson, and include Sermons that must have been very much to the mind of Sir Roger de Coverley, 'Against 'Evil Speaking.' Edmund Calamy, who died in 1666, was a Nonconformist, and one of the writers of the Treatise against Episcopacy called, from the Initials of its authors, Smectymnuus, which Bishop Hall attacked and John Milton defended. Calamy opposed the execution of Charles I. and aided in bringing about the Restoration. He became chaplain to Charles II., but the Act of Uniformity again made him a seceder. His name, added to the other three, gives breadth to the suggestion of Sir Roger's orthodoxy.

1 Honour first the immortal Gods, as is ordained by law.

them rightly in the Tunes of the Psalms; upon which they now very much value themselves, and indeed out-do most of the Country Churches that I have ever heard.

As Sir ROGER is Landlord to the whole Congregation, he keeps them in very good Order, and will suffer no Body to sleep in it besides himself; for if by chance he has been surprized into a short Nap at Sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees any Body else nodding, either wakes them himself, or sends his Servant to them. Several other of the old Knight's Particularities break out upon these Occasions: Sometimes he will be lengthening out a Verse in the Singing-Psalms, half a Minute after the rest of the Congregation have done with it; sometimes, when he is pleased with the Matter of his Devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same Prayer; and sometimes stands up when every Body else is upon their Knees, to count the Congregation, or see if any of his Tenants are missing.

I was Yesterday very much surprised to hear my old Friend, in the Midst of the Service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the Congregation. This John Matthews it seems is remarkable for being an idle Fellow, and at that time was kicking his Heels for his Diversion. This Authority of the Knight, though exerted in that odd Manner which accompanies him in all Circumstances of Life, has a very good Effect upon the Parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his Behaviour; besides that the general good Sense and Worthiness of his Character makes his friends observe these little Singularities as Foils that rather set off than blemish his good Qualities.

As soon as the Sermon is finished, no Body presumes to stir till Sir ROGER is gone out of the Church. The Knight walks down from his Seat in the Chancel between a double row of his Tenants, that stand bowing to him on each Side; and every now and then enquires how such an one's Wife, or Mother, or Son, or Father do, whom he does not see at Church; which is understood as a secret Reprimand to the Person that is absent.

The Chaplain has often told me, that upon a Catechisingday, when Sir ROGER has been pleased with a Boy that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given him next Day for his Encouragement; and sometimes accompanies it with a Flitch of Bacon to his Mother. Sir ROGER has likewise added five Pounds a Year to the Clerk's Place; and that he may encourage the young Fellows to make themselves perfect in the Church-Service, has promised upon the Death of the present Incumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to Merit.

The fair Understanding between Sir ROGER and his Chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing Good, is the more remarkable, because the very next Village is famous for the Differences and Contentions that rise between the Parson and the 'Squire, who live in a perpetual State of War. The Parson is always preaching at the 'Squire, and the 'Squire to be revenged on the Parson never comes to Church. The 'Squire has made all his Tenants Atheists and Tithe-Stealers; while the Parson instructs them every Sunday in the Dignity of his Order, and insinuates to them in almost every Sermon, that he is a better Man than his Patron. In Short, Matters are come to such an Extremity, that the 'Squire has not said his Prayers either in publick or private this half Year; and that the Parson threatens him, if he does not mend his Manners, to pray for him in the Face of the whole Congregation.

Feuds of this Nature, though too frequent in the Country, are very fatal to the ordinary People; who are so used to be dazled with Riches, that they pay as much Deference to

He

Anthony Ashley Cooper, the third Earl of Shaftesbury, was grandson of the earl against whom Dryden wrote "Absalom and Achitophel." was born in 1671-that is to say, he was only a few months older than Steele and Addison, and he died at the age of forty-four, in February, 1713, during the three months' interval between the close of The Spectator and the beginning of The Guardian. He had been educated with great care, under the direct influence of John Locke, visited the chief courts of Europe, and in 1693 he became member for Poole. In Parliament he was a liberal supporter of the principles that triumphed at the Revolution, but delicacy of health and disinclination for the feuds of party caused him to decline office under William III. In 1698 he went to Holland, where he was much in the society of Pierre Bayle, Le Clerc, and others who claimed liberty of thought. Between 1708 and 1711 Shaftesbury published the essays which were collected in three volumes as "Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, and Times." The first, published in 1708, was his "Letter concerning Enthusiasm;" the second, "Sensus Communis; or, an Essay upon the Freedom of Wit and Humour,' appeared in 1709. Other essays published in that year were "The Moralists, a Rhapsody," and "An Enquiry concerning Virtue," which had been printed as early as 1699. In 1710 appeared "Soliloquy ; or, Advice to an Author," which was placed third in the collection of the "Characteristics."

Shaftesbury's essays represent one form of the tendency to speculate on God and man that grew with the advance of the eighteenth century. There was a reaction against dead formalisms in Church and State, strongest in France, where men had suffered most from the corruptions of society. Pierre Bayle, who died in 1736, had suggested bold doubts in his "Dictionnaire Historique et Critique," which was translated into English in 1710, the year in which Leibnitz at Paris endeavoured to reply to Bayle's doubts, to maintain God's justice, and reconcile the sense of it with sense of evil in the world, in "Essais de Theodicée." Lord Shaftesbury was then dealing with such questions in his essays as a virtuoso and a man of taste, and his writings were considered to be models of sense and refinement. He maintained the existence of a beneficent God in all creation, but put aside dogmatic theology as superstition; he condemned enthusiasm, argued that it was best met with kindly ridicule, that good humour and good taste are essential to the religious life, that all nature breathes a divine harmony which leads to good, and that, as Pope wrote afterwards, there is in "all discord harmony not understood." Shaftesbury was not without real energy of thought; his essays were translated into foreign languages, and he was regarded as an excellent example of politeness and enlightenment. He was a real person of quality,

and not unconscious of the fact, when an author of humble birth and means, would now and then write himself" Person of Quality" upon his title-page to win an audience. Shaftesbury's manner as an essayist will be sufficiently illustrated by the first section of his

SOLILOQUY; OR, ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR.

I HAVE often thought how ill-natur'd a Marim it was, which, on many occasions, I have heard from People of good understanding; "That, as to what related to private Conduct, "No-one was ever the better for ADVICE." But upon farther Examination, I have resolv'd with my-self, that the Maxim might be admitted without any violent prejudice to Mankind. For in the manner Advice was generally given, there was no reason, I thought, to wonder it shou'd be so ill receiv'd. Something there was which strangely inverted the Case, and made the Giver to be the only Gainer. For by what I cou'd observe in many Occurrences of our Lives, That which we call'd giving Advice, was properly, taking an occasion to shew our own Wisdom, at another's expence. On the other side, to be instructed, or to receive Advice on the terms usually prescrib'd to us, was little better than tamely to afford another the Occasion of raising himself a Character from our Defects.

In reality, however able or willing a Man may be to advise, 'tis no easy matter to make ADVICE a free Gift. For to make a Gift free indeed, there must be nothing in it which takes from Another, to add to Our-self. In all other respects, to give and to dispense, is Generosity, and Good-will: but to bestow Wisdom, is to gain a Mastery which can't so easily be allow'd us. Men willingly learn whatever else is taught 'em. They can bear a Master in Mathematicks, in Musick, or in any other Science; but not in Understanding and Good Sense.

'Tis the hardest thing imaginable for an AUTHOR not to appear assuming in this respect. For all Authors at large are, in a manner, profess'd Masters of Understanding to the age. And for this reason, in early days, Poets were look'd upon as authentick Sages, for dictating Rules of Life, and teaching Manners and good Sense. How they may have lost their Pretension, I can't say. 'Tis their peculiar Happiness and Advantage, not to be oblig'd to lay their Claim openly. And if whilst they profess only to please, they secretly advise, and give Instruction; they may now perhaps, as well as formerly, be esteem'd, with justice, the best and most honourable among Authors.

66

MEAN while: "If dictating and prescribing be of so dangerous a nature, in other Authors; what must his Case be, "who dictates to Authors themselves?"

To this I answer; That my Pretension is not so much to give Advice, as to consider of the Way and Manner of advising. My Science, if it be any, is no better than that of a LanguageMaster, or a Logician. For I have taken it strongly into my head, that there is a certain Knack or Legerdemain in Argument, by which we may safely proceed to the dangerous part of advising, and make sure of the good fortune to have our Advice accepted, if it be any thing worth.

66

My Proposal is to consider of this Affair, as a Case of SURGERY. 'Tis Practice, we all allow, which makes a Hand. "But who, on this occasion, will be practis'd on? Who will "willingly be the first to try our Hand? and afford us the requisite Experience ?" Here lies the Difficulty. For supposing we had Hospitals for this sort of Surgery, and there were always in readiness certain meek Patients who wou'd bear any Incisions, and be prob'd or tented at our pleasure; the advantage no doubt wou'd be considerable in this way of

Practice. Some Insight must needs be obtain'd. In time a Hand too might be acquir'd; but in all likelihood a very rough-one which wou'd by no means serve the purpose of this latter Surgery. For here, a Tenderness of Hand is principally requisite. No Surgeon will be call'd who has not Feeling and Compassion. And where to find a Subject in which the Operator is likely to preserve the highest Tenderness, and yet act with the greatest Resolution and Boldness, is certainly a matter of no slight Consideration.

I AM sensible, there is in all considerable Projects, at first appearance, a certain Air of chimerical Fancy and Conceit, which is apt to render the Projectors somewhat liable to ridicule. I wou'd therefore prepare my Reader against this Prejudice; by assuring him, that in the Operation propos'd, there is nothing which can justly excite his Laughter; or if there be, the Laugh perhaps may turn against him, by his own consent, and with his own concurrence: Which is a Specimen of that very Art or Science we are about to illustrate. ACCORDINGLY, if it be objected against the above-mention'd Practice, and Art of Surgery, "That we can no-where find "such a meek Patient, with whom we can in reality make bold, "and for whom nevertheless we are sure to preserve the greatest "Tenderness and Regard :" I assert the contrary; and say, for instance, That we have each of us OUR SELVES to practise on. "Mere Quibble! (you'll say :) For who can thus multiply "himself into two Persons, and be his own Subject? Who can "properly laugh at himself, or find in his heart to be either "merry or severe on such an occasion ?" Go to the Poets, and they will present you with many Instances. Nothing is more common with them than this sort of SOLILOQUY. A Person of profound Part, or perhaps of ordinary Capacity, happens, on some occasion, to commit a Fault. He is concern'd for it. He comes alone upon the Stage; looks about him, to see if any body be near; then takes himself to task, without sparing himself in the least. You wou'd wonder to hear how close he pushes matters, and how thorowly he carries on the business of Self-dissection. By virtue of this SOLILOQUY he becomes two distinct Persons. He is Pupil and Preceptor. He teaches and he learns. And in good earnest, had I nothing else to plead in behalf of the Morals of our modern Dramatick Poets, I shou'd defend 'em still against their Accusers for the sake of this very Practice, which they have taken care to keep up in its full force. For whether the Practice be natural or no in respect of common Custom and Usage; I take upon me to assert, that it is an honest and laudable Practice; and that if already it be not natural to us, we ought however to make it so, by Study and Application.

"ARE we to go therefore to the Stage for Edification? "Must we learn our Catechism from the Poets? And, like the "Players, speak aloud, what we debate at any time with our"selves alone ?" Not absolutely so, perhaps. Tho where the harm wou'd be, of spending some Discourse, and bestowing a little Breath and clear Voice purely upon our-selves, I can't

see.

We might peradventure be less noisy and more profitable in Company, if at convenient times we discharg'd some of our articulate Sound, and spoke to ourselves vivâ voce when alone. For Company is an extreme Provocative to Fancy; and, like a hot-bed in Gardening, is apt to make our Imaginations sprout too fast. But by this anticipating Remedy of SOLILOQUY We may effectually provide against the Inconvenience.

WE HAVE an account in History of a certain Nation, who seem to have been extremely apprehensive of the Effects of this Frothiness or Ventosity in Speech, and were accordingly resolv'd to provide thorowly against the Evil. They carry'd this Remedy of ours so far, that it was not only their Custom, but their Religion and Law, to speak, laugh, use action,

gesticulate, and do all in the same manner when by themselves, as when they were in Company. If you had stol'n upon 'em unawares at any time, when they had been alone, you might have found 'em in high Dispute, arguing with themselves, reproving, counselling, haranguing themselves, and in the most florid manner accosting their own Persons. In all likelihood they had been once a People remarkably fluent in Expression, much pester'd with Orators and Preachers, and mightily subject to that Disease which has since been call'd the Leprosy of Eloquence; till some sage Legislator arose amongst 'em, who when he cou'd not oppose the Torrent of Words, and stop the Flux of Speech, by any immediate Application, found means to give a vent to the loquacious Humour, and broke the force of the Distemper by eluding it.

OUR present Manners, I must own, are not so well calculated for this Method of SOLILOQUY, as to suffer it to become a national Practice. 'Tis but a small Portion of this Regimen, which I wou'd willingly borrow, and apply to private use; especially in the case of Authors. I am sensible how fatal it might prove to many honourable Persons, shou'd they acquire such a Habit as this, or offer to practise such an Art, within reach of any mortal Ear. For 'tis well known, we are not many of us like that Roman, who wish'd for Windows to his Breast, that all might be as conspicuous there as in his House, which for that very reason he had built as open as was possible. I wou'd therefore advise our Probationer, upon his first Exercise, to retire into some thick Wood, or rather take the Point of some high Hill; where, besides the Advantage of looking about him for security, he wou'd find the Air perhaps more rarefy'd, and sutable to the Perspiration requir'd, especially in the case of a Poetical Genius.

1 Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, & fugit urbem. 'Tis remarkable in all great Wits, that they have own'd this Practice of ours, and generally describ'd themselves as a People liable to sufficient Ridicule, for their great loquacity by themselves, and their profound Taciturnity in Company. Not only the Poet and Philosopher, but the Orator himself was wont to have recourse to our Method. And the Prince of this latter Tribe may be prov'd to have been a great Frequenter of the Woods and River-banks; where he consum'd abundance of his Breath, suffer'd his Fancy to evaporate, and reduc'd the vehemence both of his Spirit and Voice. If other Authors find nothing which invites 'em to these Recesses, 'tis because their Genius is not of force enough: Or tho it be, their Character, they may imagine, will hardly bear 'em out. For to be surpriz'd in the odd Actions, Gestures, or Tones, which are proper to such Asceticks, I must own wou'd be an ill Adventuro for a Man of the world. But with Poets and Philosophers 'tis a known Case:

2 Aut insanit Homo, aut versus facit

COMPOSING and Raving must necessarily, we sec, bear a resemblance. And for those Composers who deal in Systems, and airy Speculations, they have vulgarly pass'd for a sort of Prose-Poets. Their secret Practice and Habit has been as frequently noted:

3 Murmura cùm secum & rabiosa silentia rodunt.

Both these sorts are happily indulg'd in this Method of Evacuation. They are thought to act naturally, and in their

1 Horace, Epist. II., ii. 77. The whole choir of writers loves the grove and shuns the town.

Horace, Sat. II., vii. 117. The man's either raving or making

verses.

3 Persius, iii. 81. With muttered sounds and crazy silences.