descriptions. Put these pieces together, and throw all the adventures you fancy into one tale. Then take a hero whom you may choose for the sound of his name, and put him into the midst of these adventures. There let him work for twelve books; at the end of which you may take him out ready prepared to conquer, or to marry; it being necessary that the conclusion of an epic poem be fortunate.' To make an Episode.-Take any remaining adventure of your former collection, in which you could no way involve your hero; or any unfortunate accident that was too good to be thrown away; and it will be of use applied to any other person, who may be lost and evaporate in the course of the work, without the least damage to the composition.' For the Moral and Allegory. These you may extract out of the fable afterwards, at your leisure. Be sure you strain them sufficiently.' FOR THE MANNERS. For those of the hero, take all the best qualities you can find in all the celebrated heroes of antiquity; if they will not be reduced to a consistency, lay them all on a heap upon him. But be sure they are qualities which your patron would be thought to have: and, to prevent any mistake which the world may be subject to, select from the alphabet those capital letters that compose his name, and set them at the head of a dedication before your poem. However, do not absolutely observe the exact quantity of these virtues, it not being determined, whether or no it be necessary for the hero of a poem to be an honest man. For the under characters, gather them from Homer and Virgil, and change the names as occasion serves.' FOR THE MACHINES. 'Take of deities, male and female, as many as you can use. Separate them into two equal parts, and keep Jupiter in the middle. Let Juno put him in a ferment, and Venus mollify him. Remember on all occasions to make use of volatile Mercury. If you have need of devils, draw them out of Milton's Paradise, and extract your spirits from Tasso. The use of these machines is evident; for since no epic poem can possibly subsist without them, the wisest way is to reserve them for your greatest necessities. When you cannot extricate your hero by any human means, or yourself by your own wits, seek relief from heaven, and the gods will do your business very readily. This is according to the direct prescription of Horace in his Art of Poetry: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice Nodus Never presume to make a god appear, That is to say, a poet should never call upon the gods for their assistance, but when he is in great perplexity.' FOR THE DESCRIPTIONS. For a Tempest.-Take Eurus, Zephyr, Auster, and Boreas, and cast them together in one verse. Add to these of rain, lightning, and of thunder (the loudest you can) quantum sufficit. Mix your clouds and billows well together until they foam, and thicken your description here and there with a quicksand. Brew your tempest well in your head, before you set it a blowing.' For a Battle. Pick a large quantity of images and descriptions from Homer's Iliads, 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 burning a Town. If such a description 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 danger is in applying them. For this advise with your bookseller. FOR THE LANGUAGE. (I mean the diction.) Here it will do well to be an imitator of Milton, for you will find it easier to imitate him in this, than any thing else. Hebraisms and Grecisms are to be found in him, without the trouble of learning the languages. I knew a painter, who (like our poct) had no genius, make his daubings to be thought originals by setting them in the smoke. You may in the same manner give the venerable air of antiquity to your piece, by darkening it up and down with old English. With this you may be easily furnished upon any occasion, by the dictionary commonly printed at the end of Chaucer.' writers without genius in one material point, I must not conclude, without cautioning all which is, never to be afraid of having too much fire in their works. I should advise rather to take their warmest thoughts, and spread them abroad upon paper; for they are observed to cool before they are read. and they must both give an account for their behaviour under their respective sufferings and enjoyments. However, you would do your part as a guardian, if you would mention, in the most pathetic terms, these miserable objects, and put the good part of the world in mind of exerting the most noble benevolence that can be imagined, in alleviating the few remaining moments of the incurable. PHILANTHROPOS.' your polite papers, but when I observe any thing | wherein those distinctions shall cease for ever, which I think written for the advancement of good-will amongst men, and laying before them objects of charity, I am very zealous for the promotion of so honest a design. Believe me, sir, want of wit or wisdom, is not the infirmity of this age; it is the shameful application of | both that is the crying evil. As for my own part, I am always endeavouring at least to be better, rather than richer or wiser. But I never lamented that I was not a wealthy man so hear- 'A gentleman who belonged to the hospital, tily as the other day. You must understand was saying, he believed it would be done as that I now and then take a walk of mortifica- soon as mentioned, if it were proposed that a tion, and pass a whole day in making myself ward might be erected for the accommodation profitably sad. I for this end visit the hospitals of such as have no more to do in this world, but about this city, and when I have rambled about resign themselves to death. I know no readier the galleries at Bedlam, and seen for an hour way of communicating this thought to the the utmost of all lamentable objects, human world, than by your paper. If you omit to pub. reason distracted; when I have from grate to lish this, I shall never esteem you to be the man grate offered up my prayers for a wretch who you pretend; and so recommending the incurahas been reviling me, for a figure that has seem-ble to your guardianship, I remain, sir, your ed petrified with anguish, for a man that has most humble servant, held up his face in a posture of adoration toward heaven to utter execrations and blasphemies; I say, when I have beheld all these things, and thoroughly reflected on them, until I have startled myself out of my present ill course, I have thought fit to pass to the observation of less evils, and relieve myself by going to those charitable receptacles about this town, appointed only for bodily distresses. The gay and frolic part of mankind are wholly unacquainted with the numbers of their fellow-creatures who languish under pain and agony, for want of a trifle out of that expense by which those fortunate persons purchase the gratification of a superfluous passion or appetite. I ended the last of these pilgrimages which I made, at St. Thomas's hospital in Southwark. I had seen all the variety of woe which can arise from the distempers which attend human frailty; but the circumstance which occasioned this letter, and gave me the quickest compassion, was beholding a little boy of ten years of age, who was just then to be expelled the house as incurable. My heart melted within me to think what would become of the poor child, who, as I was informed, had not a farthing in the world, nor father, nor mother, nor friend to help it. The infant saw my sorrow for it, and came towards me, and bid me speak, that it might die in the house. 'Alas! there are crowds cured in this place, and the strictest care taken, in the distribution of the charity, for wholesome food, good physic, and tender care in behalf of the patients; but the provision is not large enough for those whom they do not despair of recovering, which makes it necessary to turn out the incurable, for the sake of those whom they can relieve. I was informed this was the fate of many in a year, as well as of this poor child, who I suppose, corrupted away yet alive in the streets. He was to be sure removed when he was only capable of giving offence, though avoided when still an object of compassion. There are not words to give mankind compunction enough on such an occasion; but I assure you I think the miserable have a property in the superfluous possessions of the fortunate; though I depair of seeing right done them until the day It must be confessed, that if one turns one's eyes round these cities of London and Westminster, one cannot overlook the exemplary instances of heroic charity, in providing restraints for the wicked, instructions for the young, food and raiment for the aged, with regard also to all other circumstances and relations of human life; but it is to be lamented that these provisions are made only by the middle kind of people, while those of fashion and power are raised above the species itself, and are unacquainted or unmoved with the calamities of others. But, alas! how monstrous is this hardness of heart! How is it possible that the returns of hunger and thirst should not importune men, though in the highest affluence, to consider the miseries of their fellow-creatures who languish under necessity. But as I hinted just now, the distinctions of mankind are almost wholly to be resolved into those of the rich and the poor; for as certainly as wealth gives acceptance and grace to all that its possessor says or does; so poverty creates disesteem, scorn, and prejudice, to all the undertakings of the indigent. The necessitous man has neither hands, lips, or understanding, for his own or friend's use, but is in the same condition with the sick, with this difference only, that his is an infection no man will relieve or assist, or if he does, it is seldom with so much pity as contempt, and rather for the ostentation of the physician, than compassion on the patient. It is a circumstance, wherein a man finds all the good he deserves inaccessible, all the ill unavoidable; and the poor hero is as certainly ragged, as the poor villain hanged. Under these pressures the poor man speaks with hesitation, undertakes with irresolution, and acts with disappointment. He is slighted in men's conversations, overlooked in their assemblies, and beaten at their doors. But from whence, alas! has he this treatment? from a creature that has only the supply of, but not an exemption from, the wants, for which he despises him. Yet such is the unaccountable insolence of man, that he will not see that he who is supported, is in the same class of natural up in the name of it, in order to disparage such of its communicants as will not sacrifice their conscience to their fortunes. This confusion and subdivision of interests and sentiments among people of the same communion, is what would be a very good subject of mirth; but when I consider against whom this insult is committed, I think it too great, and of too ill a consequence, to be in good humour on the oc necessity with him that wants a support; and | 'June 9, 1713. 'SIR,-Your character of universal Guardian, joined to the concern you ought to have for the cause of virtue and religion, assure me you will not think that clergymen when injured, have the least right to your protection; and it Reflections of this kind do but waste one's being, without capacity of helping the distressed; yet though I know no way to do any service to my brethren under such calamities, I cannot help having so much respect for them, as to suffer with them in a fruitless fellow-is from that assurance I trouble you with this, feeling. I HAVE found, by experience, that it is impossible to talk distinctly without defining the words of which we make use. There is not a term in our language which wants explanation so much as the word Church. One would think when people utter it, they should have in their minds ideas of virtue and religion; but that important monosyllable drags all the other words in the language after it, and it is made use of to express both praise and blame, according to the character of him who speaks it. By this means it happens, that no one knows what his neighbour means when he says such a one is for or against the church. It has happened that the person, who is scen every day at church, has not been in the eye of the world a church man; and he who is very zealous to oblige every man to frequent it, but himself, has been held a very good son of the church. This preposses. sion is the best handle imaginable for politicians to make use of, for managing the loves and hatreds of mankind, to the purposes to which they would lead them. But this is not a thing for fools to meddle with, for they only bring disesteem upon those whom they attempt to serve, when they unskilfully pronounce terms of art. I have observed great evils arise from this practice, and not only the cause of piety, but also the secular interest of clergymen, has extremely suffered by the general unexplained signification of the word Church. The Examiner, upon the strength of being a received church-man, has offended in this particular more grossly than any other man ever did before, and almost as grossly as ever he himself did, supposing the allegations in the following letter are just. To slander any man is a very heinous offence; but the crime is still greater, when it falls upon such as ought to give example to others. I cannot imagine how the Examiner can divest any part of the clergy of the respect due to their characters, so as to treat them as he does, without an indulgence unknown to our religion, though taken to complain of the Examiner, who calumniates as freely as he commends, and whose invectives are as groundless as his panegyrics. In his paper of the eighth instant, after a most furious invective against many noble lords, a considerable number of the commons, and a very great part of her majesty's good subjects, as disaffected and full of discontent, (which, by the way, is but an awkward compliment to the queen, whose greatest glory it is to reign in the hearts of her people,) that the clergy may not go without their share of his resentment, he concludes with a most malicious reflection upon some of them. He names indeed nobody, but points to Windsor and St. Paul's, where he tells us some are disrespectful to the queen, and enemies to her peace; most odious characters, especially in clergymen, whose profession is peace, and to whose duty and affection her majesty has a more immediate right, by her singular piety and great goodness to them. "They have sucked in," he says, "this war-like principle from their arbitrary patrons." It is not enough, it seems, to calumniate them, unless their patrons also be insulted, no less patrons than the late king and the duke of Marlborough. These are his arbitrary men; though nothing be more certain than that without the king, the shadow of a legal government had not been left to us; nor did there ever live a man, who in the nature and temper of him, less deserved the character of arbitrary than the duke. How now is this terrible charge against those clergymen supported? Why, as to St. Paul's, the fact, according to him, is this: "Some of the church, to affront the queen, on the day the peace was proclaimed, gave orders for parochial prayers only, without singing, as is used upon fast-days, though in this particular their inferiors were so very honest to disobey them." This the Examiner roundly affirms, after his usual manner, but without the least regard to truth; for it is fallen in my way, without inquiring, to be exactly informed of this matter, and therefore, I take upon me in their vindication to assure you, that every part of what is said is absolutely false, and the truth is just the reverse. inferiors desired there might be only parochial prayers; but the person applied to was aware to what construction it might be liable, and therefore would not consent to the request, though very innocent and reasonable. The case was this: the procession of the ceremony had The No. 81.1 Saturday, June 13, 1713. Quiete et pure atque eleganter actæ ætatis placida ac lenis recordatio. Cicero. Placid and soothing is the remembrance of a life passed with quiet, innocence, and elegance. reached Ludgate just at the time of prayers, and there was such a prodigious concourse of people, that one of the vergers came to the residentiary in waiting, to represent, that it would be impossible to have prayers that afternoon; that the crowds all round the church was so great, there would be no getting in: but it was THE paper which was published on the thirinsisted, that there must be prayers, only the tieth of last month, ended with a piece of devotolling of the bell should be deferred a little, tion written by the archbishop of Cambray. It until the head of the procession was got beyond would (as it was hinted in that precaution) be the church. When the bell had done, and none of singular use for the improvement of our of the choir appeared, but one to read, it was minds, to have the secret thoughts of men of upon this again represented, that there could be good talents on such occasions. I shall for the only parochial prayers, a thing that sometimes entertainment of this day give my reader two happens, twice or thrice perhaps in a year, pieces, which, if he is curious, will be pleasing when, upon some allowable occasion, the ab- tor that reason, if they prove to have no other sence of the choir-men is so great, as not to effect upon him. One of them was found in the leave the necessary voices for cathedral service; | closet of an Athenian libertine, who lived many which very lately was the case upon a per- ages ago, and is a soliloquy wherein he contemformance of the thanksgiving music at White- plates his own life and actions according to the hall. So that had the prayers, on this occasion, lights men have from nature, and the compunebeen parochial only, it had been neither new tions of natural reason. The other is a prayer of nor criminal, but necessary and unavoidable, a gentleman who died within few years last past; unless the Examiner can tell how the service and lived to a very great age; but had passed may be sung decently without singing-men. his youth in all the vices in fashion. The AtheHowever, to leave informers no room for calum- nian is supposed to have been Alcibiades, a man ny, it was expressly urged, that parochial of great spirit, extremely addicted to pleasures, prayers on such a day, would look ill; that but at the same time very capable, and upon octherefore, if possible, it should be avoided, and casion very attentive to business. He was by the service should be begun as usual, in hopes nature endued with all the accomplishments one or two of the choir might come in before the she could bestow; he had beauty, wit, courage, psalms; and the verger was ordered to look out, and a great understanding; but in the first if he could see any of the choir, to hasten them bloom of his life was arrogantly affected with to their places; and so it proved, two of the best the advantages he had over others. That temvoices came in time enough, and the service per is pretty visible in an expression of his: when was performed cathedral-wise, though in a man- it was proposed to him to learn to play upon a ner to bare walls, with an anthem suitable to musical instrument, he answered, 'It is not for the day. This is the fact on which the Exa-me to give, but to receive delight. However, miner grounds a charge of factious and seditious principles against some at St. Paul's, and I am persuaded there is as little truth in what he charges some of Windsor with, though I know not certainly whom he means. Were I disposed to expostulate with the Examiner, I would ask him if he seriously thinks this be answering her majesty's intentions? Whether disquieting the minds of her people is the way to calm them? Or to traduce men of learning I am now wholly alone, my ears are not enand virtue, be to cultivate the arts of peace?tertained with music, my eyes with beauty, nor But I am too well acquainted with his writings any of my senses so forcibly affected, as to dinot to see he is past correction; nor does any yert the course of my inward thoughts. Mething in his paper surprise me, merely because thinks there is something sacred in myself now it is false; for to use his own words, "not a day I am alone. What is this being of mine? I passes," with him, "but it brings forth a mouse came into it without my choice, and yet Socrates or a monster, some ridiculous lie, some vile ca- says it is to be imputed to me. In this repose lumny or forgery." He is almost equally false of my senses wherein they communicate nothing in every thing he says; but it is not always strongly to myself, I taste, methinks, a being equally easy to make his falsehood plain and distinct from their operation. Why may not palpable. And it is chiefly for that reason I then my soul exist, when she is wholly gone out desire you to give this letter a place in your of these organs? I can perceive my faculties papers, that those that are willing to be unde- grow stronger, the less I admit the pleasures of ceived may learn, from so clear an instance, sense; and the nearer I place myself to a bare what a faithful, modest writer this is, who pre-existence, the more worthy, the more noble, the tends to teach them how to think and speak of things and persons they know nothing of them. selves. As this is no way disagrecable to your character of Guardian, your publication of it is a favour which I flatter myself you will not deny to, sir, your humble servant, 'R. A.' the conversation of Socrates tempered a strong inclination to licentiousness into reflections of philosophy; and if it had not the force to make a man of his genius and fortune wholly regular, it gave him some cool moments, and this following soliloquy is supposed by the learned to have been thrown together before some expected engagement, and seems to be very much the picture of the man. more celestial does that existence appear to me. If my soul is weakened rather than improved by all that the body administers to her, she may reasonably be supposed to be designed for a mansion more suitable than this, wherein what delights her diminishes her excellence, and that which afflicts her adds to her perfection. There is an hereafter, and I will not fear to be immortal for the sake of Athens.' This soliloquy is but the first dawnings of thought in the mind of a mere man given up to sensuality. The paper which I mention of our contemporary was found in his scrutoire after his death, but communicated to a friend or two of his in his life-time. You see in it a man wearied with the vanities of this life; and the reflections which the success of his wit and gallantry bring upon his old age, are not unworthy the observation of those who possess the like advantages. 'Oh, Almighty Being! How shall I look up towards thee, when I reflect that I am of no consideration but as I have offended? My existence, O my God, without thy mercy, is not to be prolonged in this or another world but for my punishment. I apprehend, oh, iny Maker, let it not be too late: I apprehend, and tremble at thy presence; and shall I not consider thee, who art all goodness, but with terror? Oh, my Redeemer, do thou behold my anguish. Turn to me, thou Saviour of the world: Who has offended like me? Oh, my God, I cannot fly out of thy presence, let me fall down in it; I humble myself in contrition of heart; but alas! I have not only swerved from thee, but have laboured against thee. If thou dost pardon what I have committed, how wilt thou pardon what I have made others commit? I have rejoiced in ill, as in a prosperity. Forgive, oh my God, all who have offended by iny persuasion, all who have transgressed by my example. Canst thou, O God, accept of the confession of old age, to expiate all the labour and industry of youth spent in transgressions against thee? While I am still alive, let me implore thee to recall to thy grace all whom I have made to sin. Let, oh Lord, thy goodness admit of his prayer for their pardon, by whose instigation they have transgressed. Accept, O God, of this interval of age, between my sinful days and the hour of my dissolution, to wear away the corrupt habits in my soul, and prepare myself for the mansions of purity and joy. Impute not to me, oh my God, the offences I may give, after my death, to those I leave behind me; let me not transgress when I am no more seen; but prevent the ill-effects of my ill-applied studies, and receive me into thy mercy.' It is the most melancholy circumstance that can be imagined, to be on a death-bed, and wish all that a man has most laboured to bring to pass were obliterated for ever. How emphatically worse is this, than having passed all one's days in idleness! Yet this is the frequent case of many men of refined talents. It is, methinks, monstrous that the love of fame, and value of the fashion of the world, can transport a man so far as even in solitude to act with so little reflection upon his real interest. This is premcditated madness, for it is an error done with the assistance of all the faculties of the mind. When every circumstance about us is a constant admonition how transient is every labour of man, it should, methinks, be no hard matter to bring one's self to consider the emptiness of our endeavours; but I was not a little charmed the other day, when sitting with an old friend and communing together on such subjects, he expressed himself after this manner : It is unworthy a Christian philosopher to let any thing here below stand in the least competition with his duty. In vain is reason fortified by faith, if it produces in our practice no greater effects than what reason wrought in mere man. 'I contemn, (in dependence on the support of heaven I speak it) I contemn all which the generality of mankind call great and glorious. I will no longer think or act like a mortal, but consider myself as a being that commenced at my birth, and is to endure to all eternity. The accident of death will not end but improve my being; I will think of myself, and provide for myself as an immortal; and I will do nothing now which I do not believe I shall approve a thousand years hence.' Cedat uti conviva satur Hor. Lib. 1. Sat. i. 119. Let him depart like a contented guest. THOUGH men see every day people go to their long home, who are younger than themselves, they are not so apt to be alarmed at that, as at the decease of those who have lived longer in their sight. They miss their acquaintance, and are surprised at the loss of an habitual object. This gave me so much concern for the death of Mr. William Peer of the theatre-royal, who was an actor at the Restoration, and took his theatrical degree with Betterton, Kynaston, and Harris. Though his station was humble, he performed it well; and the common comparison with the stage and human life, which has been so often made, may well be brought out upon this occasion. It is no matter, say the moralists, whether you act a prince or a beggar, the business is to do your part well. Mr. Wil liam Peer distinguished himself particularly in two characters, which no man ever could touch but himself; one of them, was the speaker of the prologue to the play, which is contrived in the tragedy of Hamlet, to awake the consciences of the guilty princes. Mr. William Peer spoke presented that he was an actor, and with such that preface to the play with such an air, as rean inferior manner as only acting an actor, as made the others on the stage appear real great persons, and not representatives. This was a nicety in acting that none but the most subtle player could so much as conceive. I remember his speaking these words, in which there is no great matter but in the right adjustment of the air of the speaker, with universal applause: For us and for our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently." Hamlet says very archly upon the pronouncing of it, 'Is this a prologue, or a posy of a ring?" However, the speaking of it got Mr. Peer more reputation, than those who speak the length of a puritan's sermon every night will ever attain to. Besides this, Mr. Peer got a great fame on another little occasion. He played the apothecary in Caius Marius, as it is called by Otway; but |