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V  O  L.    I. 

A  Letter  concerning  Enthusiasm. 

Senfus  Communis ;   an  ElTay  on  the  Freedom  of 

Wi  T  and  Humour. 
Soliloquy^  or  Advice  to  an  Au  t  h  o  R. 

VOL.    IL 

An  Inquiry  concerning  Virtue  and  Merit. 
The  MoRALiSTsj  a  Philofophical  Rhapfody. 

VOL.    IIL 

Miscellaneous  Reflections  on  the  faid 
Treatifes,  and  other  critical  Subjects. 

A  Notion  of  the  Hiflorical  Draught,  or  Tablature 
of  the  Judgment  of  Hercules.  With  a 
Letter  concerning  Design. 


A3 


O  V 


CHARACTERISTICKS. 
Volume    I. 


A  Letter  concerning  Enthusiasm. 

Senfiis  Communis  j  an  EfTay  on  the  Freedom  of 
Wit  and  Humour. 

Soliloquy y  or  Advice  to  an  A  u  t  h  o  R. 


Printed  in  the  Year  M.DCC.XXXII. 

A4 


^5     M/ 


Ill 


Sfacir 


PREFACE. 


.\  . 


IF  the  Author  of  thefe  united 
jtra^is  had  been  any  Friend  to 
Prefaces,  he  woud proha^ 
bly  have  made  his  Entrance  after  that 
manner  J  in  one  or  other  of  the  Five 
jTreatifes  formerly  puhJiJhd  apart. 
But  as  to  all  Prefatory  or  Dedicatory 
^ifcourfe^  he  has  told  us  his  Mind 
fufficiently^  in  that  Treattfe  which  he 
calls  S  o  L I L  o  Q.U  X.  Being  fatif- 
fyd  ho^wever^  that  there  are  many 

^erfons 


iv  Preface. 

T^erfons  who  ejteem  thefe  Introduc- 
tory Pieces  as  very  ejfential  in  the 
Conjiitutton  of  a  Work  ^  he  has  thought 
fit^  in  behalf  of  his  honeji  Printer,  to 
fubjlitute  thefe  Lines  under  the  Title 
of  A  PREFACE3  and  to  declare^ 
^^  That  (according  to  his  beji  J^dg- 
"  ment  and  Authority)  thefe  ^re^ 
"  fents  ought  to  pafi^  and  be  receinidj 
"  conftrudy  and  taken^  as  fatisfac' 
^'  tory  in  fully  for  all  'Preliminary 
^'  Compojittony  T)edicationy  direSi  or 
"  indirect  Application  for  Favour  to 
"  the  Publicky  or  to  any  private 
"  Tatrojiy  or  Party  whatfbever : 
"  Nothing  to  the  contrary  appearing 
"  to  him,  from  the  fide  of  Truth, 
"  or  Reafon."  Witnefs  his  Handy 
this  Fifth  Day  0/ December,  1710. 

A.A.C.A.KA.yE. 
C.M.D.C.L.X.XJ, 


Treatise    I. 
VIZ. 

A 

LETTER 

CONCERNING 

ENTHUSIASM, 

T  O 

My  Lord  Sommers. 

•  Ridentem  dicere  Verum 


^id  vet  at?  Hor.  Sat.  i. 


Printed  firfl  in  the  Year  M.DCC.VIIL 


5 


\I-!>.32  .  33  ■  ^^ 


LETTER,  ^c. 


My  Lord, 


Sept,  1707. 


NO  W,  you  are  returned  to  .... . 
and  before  the  Seafon  comes 
which  muft  engage  you  in  the 
weightier  Matters  of  State  ;  if 
you  care  to  be  entertain'd  a-while  with  a 
fort  of  idle  Thoughts,  fuch  as  pretend  on- 
ly to  Amufement,  and  have  no  relation  to 
Bufinefs  or  Affairs,  you  may  caft  your  Eye 
flightly  on  what  you  have  before  you  j  and 
if  there  be  any  thing  inviting,  you  may 
read  it  over  at  your  leSure. 

^"-  It 


4  A  LETTER 

Se<5l.  I.  It  has  been  an  eftablifli'd  Cuftom  for 
(•^V^^  Poets,  at  the  entrance  of  their  Work,  to 
addrefs  themfelves  to  fome  Mufe :  and  this 
Practice  of  the  Antients  has  gain'd  fo  much 
Repute,  that  even  in  our  days  we  find  it  al- 
mofl  conftantly  imitated.  I  cannot  but  fan- 
fy  however,  that  this  Imitation,  which  paf- 
fes  fo  currently  with  other  Judgments,  muil 
at  fome  time  or  other  have  ftuck  a  little 
with  your  Lordfhip ;  who  is  us'd  to  examine 
Things  by  a  better  Standard  than  that  of 
Fafhion  or  the  common  Tafte.  You  muft 
certainly  have  obferv'd  our  Poets  under  a 
remarkable  Conftraint,  when  oblig'd  to  af- 
fume  this  Character :  and  you  have  won- 
dered, perhaps,  why  that  Air  oi  Enthufiafm^ 
which  fits  fo  gracefully  with  an  Antient, 
Ihou'd  be  fo  fpiritlefs  and  aukard  in  a  Mo- 
dern. But  as  to  this  Doubt,  your  Lordfhip 
wou'd  have  foon  refolv'd  your-felf :  and  it 
cou'd  only  ferve  to  bring  a-crofs  you  a  Re- 
fledllon  you  have  often  made,  on  many  oc- 
cafions  befides ;  T^hat  Truth  is  the  moji  pow^ 
erful  thing  in  the  Worlds  fince  even  Fiftion 
*  it-felf  muft  be  govern'd  by  it,  and  can  only 
pleafe  by  its  refemblance.  The  Appearance 
of  Reality  is  neceflary  to  make  any  PafTion 
^  agreeably  reprefented :    and  to  be   able  to 

move  others,  we  muft  firft  be  mov'd  our- 
felves,  or  at  leaft  feem  to  be  fo,  upon  fome 
probable  Grounds.     Now  what  poflibility 

*   Infra,  p.  141,  &c.  and  VO  L  III.  />.  itfo,  &C. 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  y 

is  there  that  a  Modern,  who  is  known  never  Scd:.  I. 
to  have  worfliip'd  Apollo,  or  own'd  any  i/VVl 
fuch  Deity  as  the  Mufes^  fhou'd  perfuade  us 
to  enter  into  his  pretended  Devotion,  and 
move  us  by  his  feign'd  Zeal  in  a  Religion 
out  of  date  ?  But  as  for  the  Antients,  *tis 
known  they  deriv'd.both  their  Religion  and 
Polity  from  the  Mufes  Art.  How  natural 
therefore  mufl  it  have  appear'd  in  any,  but 
efpecially  a  Poet  of  thofe  times,  to  addreis 
himfelf  in  Raptures  of  Devotion  to  thofe 
acknowledg'd  Patronefles  of  Wit  and  Sci- 
ence ?  Here  the  Poet  might  with  probabili- 
ty feign  an  Extafy,  tho  he  really  felt  none: 
and  fuppofing  it  to  have  been  mere  Affeda- 
tion,  it  wou'd  look  however  like  fomething  . 
natural,  and  cou'd  not  fail  of  pleafing. 

But  perhaps,  my  Lord,  there  was  a 
further  Myftery  in  the  cafe.  Men,  your 
Lordfhip  knows,  are  wonderfully  happy  in 
a  Faculty  of  deceiving  themfelves,  when- 
ever they  fet  heartily  about  it :  and  a  very 
fmall  Foundation  of  any  Paffion  will  ferve 
us,  not  only  to  adt  it  well,  but  even  to 
work  our-felves  into  it  beyond  our  own 
reach.  Thus,  by  a  little  Affedation  in 
Love-Matters,  and  with  the  help  of  a  Ro- 
mance or  Novel,  a  Boy  of  Fifteen,  or  a 
grave  Man  of  Fifty,  may  be  fure  to  grow 
a  very  natural  Coxcomb,  and  feel  the  Belle 
Fajjhn  in  good  earneft.  A  Man  of  tole- 
rable Good-Nature,  who  happens  to  be  a 

little 


6  A  LETTER 

Sed.  I.  little  piqu'd,  may,  by  improving  his  Re- 
i^^^^sJ  fentment,  become  a  very  Fury  for  Re- 
venge. Even  a  good  Chriftian,  who  wou'd 
needs  be  over-good,  and  thinks  he  can  ne- 
ver believe  enough,  may,  by  a  fmall  Incli- 
nation v^^ell  improv'd,  extend  his  Faith  fo 
largely,  as  to  comprehend  in  it  not  only 
all  Scriptural  and  Traditional  Miracles,  but 
a  folid  Syftem  of  Old-Wives  Storys.  Were 
it  needful,  I  cou'd  put  your  Lordfhip  in 
mind  of  an  Eminent,  Learned,  and  truly 
Chriftian  Prelate  you  once  knew,  who  cou'd 
have  given  you  a  full  account  of  his  Belief 
in  Fairys.  And  this,  methinks,  may  ferve 
to  make  appear,  how  far  an  antient  Poet's 
Faith  might  poffibly  have  been  rais'd,  to- 
gether with  his  Imagination. 

B  u  T  we  Chriflians,  who  have  fuch 
ample  Faith  our-felves,  will  allow  nothing 
to  poor  Heathens.  They  muft  be  Infidels 
in  every  fenfe.  We  will  not  allow  'em  to 
believe  fo  much  as  their  own  Religion; 
which  we  cry  is  too  abfurd  to  have  been 
credited  by  any  befides  the  mere  Vulgar. 
But  if  a  Reverend  Chriftian  Prelate  may 
be  fo  great  a  Volunteer  in  Faith,  as  beyond 
the  ordinary  Prefcription  of  the  Catholick 
Church,  to  believe  in  Fairys ;  why  may  not 
a  Heathen  Poet,  in  the  ordinary  way  of  his 
Religion,  be  allow'd  to  believe  in  Mufesf 
*  For  thefe,  your  Lordfhip  knows,  were  fo 
many  Divine  Perfons  in  the  Heathen  Creed, 

and 


concerning  Enthusiasm.         *^ 

iand  were  efTential  in  their  Syflem  of  Theo-Se(5l.  ii 
logy.  The  Goddefles  had  their  Temples  (•VSj 
and  Worship,  the  fame  as  the  other  Deitys  : 
And  to  difbelieve  the  Holy  Nine,  or  their 
Apollo,  was  the  fame  as  to  deny  Jove 
himfelf ;  and  muft  have  been  efteem'd  e- 
qually  profane  and  atheiftical  by  the  gene- 
rality of  fober  Men.  Now  what  a  mighty 
advantage  mufl  it  have  been  to  an  antient 
Poet  to  be  thus  orthodox,  and  by  the  help 
of  his  Education,  and  a  Good-will  into  the 
bargain,  to  work  himfelf  up  to  the  Belief 
of  a  Divine  Prefence  and  Heavenly  Infpi- 
ration  ?  It  was  never  furely  the  bufinefs 
of  Poets  in  thofe  days  to  call  Revelation  in 
queftion,  when  it  evidently  made  fo  well 
for  their  Art.  On  the  contrary,  they  cou'd 
hot  fail  to  animate  their  Faith  as  much  as 
poffible ;  when  by  a  fingle  Aft  of  it,  well 
inforc'd,  they  cdu'd  raife  themfelves  into 
fuch  Angelical  Company* 

How  much  the  Imagination  of  fuch  a 
Prefence  muft  exalt  a  Genius,  we  may  ob- 
ferve  merely  from  the  Influence  which  an 
ordinary  Prefence  has  over  Men.  Our  mo- 
dern Wits  are  more  or  lefs  rais'd  by  the 
Opinion  they  have  of  their  Company,  and 
the  Idea  they  form  to  themfelves  of  the 
Perfons  to  whom  they  make  their  Addref- 
fes.  A  common  Aftor  of  the  Stage  will 
inform  us  how  much  a  full  Audience  of  the 
Better  Sort  exalts  him  above  the  common 

Vol.  I*  B  pitchy 


8  A  LETTER 

Sed:.  I.  pitch.  And  you,  my  Lord,  who  are  the 
t/VX;  nobleft  Adtor,  and  of  the  nobleft  Part  af- 
fign'd  to  any  Mortal  on  this  earthly  Stage, 
when  you  are  aiding  for  Liberty  and  Man- 
Jiind-y  does  not  the  publick  Prefence,  that 
of  your  Friends,  and  the  Well-wi{hers  to 
your  Caufe,  add  fomething  to  your  Thought 
and  Genius  ?  Or  is  that  Sublime  of  Rea- 
fon,  and  that  Power  of  Eloquence,  which 
you  difcover  in  publick,  no  more  than 
what  you  are  equally  Mafter  of,  in  pri- 
vate ;  arid  can  command  at  any  time,  alone, 
or  with  indifferent  Company,  or  in  any 
eafy  or  cool  hour  ?  This  indeed  were 
more  Godlike;  but  ordinary  Humanity,  I 
think,  reaches  not  fo  high. 

For  my  own  part,  my  Lord,  I  have 
really  fo  much  need  of  fome  confiderable 
Prefence  or  Company  to  raife  my  Thoughts 
on  any  occafion,  that  when  alone,  I  muft 
endeavour  by  flrength  of  Fancy  to  fupply 
this  want ;  and  in  default  of  a  Mufe,  mufl 
inquire  out  fome  Great  Man  of  a  more  than 
ordinary  Genius,  whofe  imagin'd  Prefence 
may  infpire  me  with  more  than  what  I  feel 
at  ordinary  hours.  And  thus,  my  Lord, 
have  I  chofen  to  addrefs  my-felf  to  your 
Lordfhip ;  tho  without  fubfcribing  my 
Name :  allowing  you  as  a  Stranger,  the 
.  full  liberty  of  reading  no  more  than  what 
you  may  have  a  fanfy  for;  but  referving 
to  my-felf  the  privilege  of  imagining  you 

,i  J  read 


conceming  Enthusiasm.  p 

read  all,  with  particular  notice,  as  a  Friend,  Sedl.  ^.'  jy.li 
and  one  whom  I  may  juftifiably  treat  with  ^•VNii 
the  Intimacy  and  Freedom  which  follows. 

s  E  c  T.   ir. 

IF  the  knowing  well  how  to  expofe  any 
Infirmity  or  Vice  were  a  fufficient  Secu- 
rity for  the  Virtue  which  is  contrary,  how 
excellent  an  Age  might  we  be  prefum'd  to 
live  in!  Never  was  there  in  our  Nation 
a  time  known,  when  Folly  and  Extrava- 
gance of  every  kind  were  more  fharply 
infped:ed,  or  more  wittily  ridicul'd.  And 
one  might  hope  at  leaft  from  this  good 
Symptom,  that  our  Age  was  in  no  de- 
clining flate  ;  fince  whatever  our  Diftem- 
pers  are,  we  {land  fo  well  affedted  to  our 
Remedys.      To    bear    the   being    told    of  4t 

Faults,  is  in  private  Perfons  the  beft  token, 
of  Amendment.  'Tis  feldom  that  a  Pub- 
lick  is  thus  difpos'd.  For  where  Jealoufy 
of  State,  or  the  ill  Lives  of  the  Great  Peo- 
ple, or  any  other  Caufe  is  powerful  enough 
to  reftrain  the  Freedom  of  Cenfure  in  any 
part,  it  in  effedl  deftroys  the  Benefit  of  it 
in  the  whole.  There  can  be  no  impartial 
and  free  Cenfure  of  Manners  where  any 
peculiar  Cuftom  or  National  Opinion  is  fet 
apart,  and  not  only  exempted  from  Criti- 
:ifm,  but  even  flatter'd  with  the  higheft 
irt.  'Tis  only  in  a  free  Nation,  fuch  as 
mrs,  that  Impoflure  has  no  Privilege  5  and 
B  2  that 


i6  A  LETTER 

Se6t.  2. that  neither  the  Credit  of  a  Court,  the 
v-^V^^^  Power  of  a  Nobility,  nor  the  Awefulnefs  of 
a  Church  can  give  her  Protedion,  or  hin- 
der her  from  being  arraign'd  in  every  Shape 
and  Appearance.  'Tis  true,  this  Liberty 
may  feem  to. run  too  far.  We  may  per- 
haps be  faid  to  make  ill  ufe  of  it. So 

every  one  will  fay,   when  he   himfelf  is 
touch'd,   and  his  Opinion  freely  examined. 
But  v/ho  fhall  be  Judg  of  what  may  be 
freely  examin'd,  and  what  may  not  ?  Where 
Liberty  may  be  us'd;   and  where  it  may 
not  ?    What  Remedy  fhall  we  prefcribe  to 
this  in  general  ?    Can    there   be   a  better 
than  from  that  Liberty  it-felf  which  is  com- 
plain'd  of  ?    If  Men  are  vicious,   petulant 
or  abulive  \    the  Magiftrate    may   correct 
them :   But  if  they  reafon  ill,  'tis  Reafon 
ftill  muft  teach  'em  to  do  better.     Juftnefs 
of  Thought  and  Style,  Refinement  in  Man- 
ners, good  Breeding,   and  Politenefs  of  e- 
very  kind,  can  come  only  from  the  Trial 
and  Experience  of  what  is  beft.     Let  but 
the  Search    go   freely  on,    and   the  right 
Meafure  of  every  thing  will  foon  be  found. 
Whatever  Humour  has  got  the  flart,  if  it 
be  unnatural,  it  cannot  hold ;  and  the  Ri- 
diciiky  if  ill  plac'd  at  firft,  will  certainly  fall 
at  laft  where  it  deferves. 

.  I  H  A  v  E  often  wonder'd  to  fee  Men  of 
Senfe  fo  mightily  alarm'd  at  the  approach 
of  any  thing  like  Ridicule  on  certain  Sub- 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  it 

je<5ls;  as  if  they  miftrufted  their  own  Judg-Secfjt,  2.' 
ment.  For  what  Ridicule  can  lie  againil  w^v"s^ 
Reafon  ?  Or  how  can  any  one  of  the  leaft 
Juftnefs  of  Thought  endure  a  Ridicule 
wrong  plac'd  ?  Nothing  is  more  ridiculous 
than  this  it-felf.  The  Vulgar,  indeed,  may 
fwallow  any  fordid  Jeft,  any  mere  Drollery 
or  Buffoonery ;  but  it  muft  be  a  finer  and 
truer  Wit  which  takes  with  the  Men  of 
Senfe  and  Breeding.  How  comes  it  to  pafs 
then,  that  we  appear  fuch  Cowards  in  rea- 
foning,  and  are  fo  afraid  to  ftand  the  Teji 

of  Ridicule  ? O  !   fay  we,  the  Subjeds 

are  too  grave. Perhaps  fo :  but  let  us 

fee  firfl  whether  they  are  really  grave  or 
no :  for  in   the  manner  we  may  conceive 
'em,  they  may  peradventure  be  very  grave 
and  weighty  in  our  Imagination  ,•  but  very 
ridiculous  and  impertinent  in  their  own  na- 
ture.     Gravity  is  of  the  very  Eflence  of 
Impoflure.     It  does  not  only  make  us  mif^ 
take  other  things,    bur  is   apt  perpetually 
almofl  to  miflake  it-felf    For  even  in  com- 
mon Behaviour,   how  hard   is  it  for  the 
grave  Charadler   to  keep  long  out  of  the 
limits  of  the  formal   one  ?    We  can  never 
be  too  grave,  if  we  can  be  affur'd  we  are 
really  what  we  fuppofe.    And  we  can  never 
too  much  honour  or  revere  any  thing  for 
grave ;  if  we  are  affur'd  the  Thing  is  grave, 
as  we  apprehend  it.     The  main  Point  is  to 
know  always  true  Gvawhy  Uom  the  falfe; 
and  this  can  only  be,  by  carrying  the  Rule 
B  3  con- 


11  ^LETTER 

Sed.  2.  conftantly  with  us,  and  freely  applying'  it 
v^v^w/  not  only  to  the  Things  about  us,  but  to 
our-felves.  For  if  unhappily  we  lofe  the 
Meafure  in  our-felves,  we  fhall  foon  lofe  it 
in  every  thing  befides.  Now  what  Rule  or 
Meafure  is  there  in  the  World,  except  in 
the  coniidering  of  the  real  Temper  of 
Things,  to  find  which  are  truly  ferious, 
and  which  ridiculous  ?  And  how  can  this 
be  done,  unlefs  by  *  applying  the  Ridicule^ 
to  fee  whether  it  will  bear  ?  But  if  we  fear 
to  apply  this  Rule  in  any  thing,  what  Secu- 
rity can  we  have  againft  the  Impoflure  of 
Formality  in  all  things  ?  We  have  allow'd 
our-felves  to  be  Formalijis  in  one  Point ; 
^nd  the  fame  Formality  may  rule  us  as  it 
pleafes  in  all  other. 

*T  I  s  not  in  every  Difpofition  that  we  are 
capacitated  to  judg  of  things.  We  mult  be- 
forehand judg  of  our  own  Temper,  and  ac- 
cordingly of  other  things  which  fall  under 
our  Judgment.  But  we  muft  never  more 
pretend  to  judg  of  things,  or  of  our  own 
Temper  in  judging  them,  when  we  have 
given  up  our  preliminary  Right  of  Judg- 
ment, and  under  a  prefumption  of  Gravity, 
have  allow'd  our-felves  to  be  mod  ridicu^ 
lous,  and  to  admire  profoundly  the  moft  ri^ 
diculous  things  in  nature,  at  leaft  for  ought 
we  know.  For  having  refolv'd  never  to 
try,  we  can  never  be  fure. 

*  I/ifray  pag.  6i,  74. 

Ri^ 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  ij 

Seft.  2. 

* -^Ridiculum  acri  C-zV'^j 

Fortius    &    7nelius    magnas    plerumque 
fecat  res. 

This,    my  Lord,   I  raay  fafely  aver,  is  fo 
true  in  it-felf,  and  fo  well  known  for  Truth 
by  the  cunning  Formalijis  of  the  Age,  that 
they  can  better  bear  to  have  their  Impof- 
tures  rail'd  at,  with  all  the  Bitternefs  and 
Vehemence  imaginable,  than  to  have  them 
touch'd  ever  fo  gently  in  this  other  way. 
They  know  very  well,  that  as  Modes  and 
Fafhions,    (o  Opinions^  tho  ever  fo  ridicu- 
lous, are  kept  up  by  Solemnity :  and  that 
thofe  formal  Notions  which  grew  up  pro- 
bably in  an  ill  Mood,  and  have  been  con- 
ceiv'd  in  fober  Sadnefs,  are  never  to  be  re- 
mov'd  but  in  a  fober  kind  of  Chearfulnefs, 
and  by  a  more  eafy  and  pleafant  way  of 
Thought.     There  is   a  Melancholy  which 
accompanys  all  Enthufiafm.     Be  it  Love  or 
Religion  (for  there  are  Enthufiafms  in  both) 
nothing  can  put  a  flop  to  the  growing  mif- 
chief  of  either,  till  the  Melancholy  be  re- 
mov'd,  and  the  Mind  at  liberty   to  hear 
what  can  be  faid  againft  the  Ridiculoufnefs 
of  an  Extreme  in  either  way. 

I T  was  heretofore  the  Wifdom  of  fome 
wife  Nations,  to  let  People  be  Fools  as 
much  as  they  pleas'd,  and  never  to  puniih 

*  Hor.  Sat.  lo. 

B  4  feri- 


14  A  LETTER 

Se6t.  2.ferioufly  what  deferv'd  only  to  be  laugh'd 

i/V>^at,  and  was,  after  all,  beft  cur'd  by  that 
innocent  Remedy.  There  are  certain  Hu- 
mours in  Mankind,  which  of  neceflity 
muft  have  vent,     The  Human  Mind  and 

\  Body  are  both  of  'em  naturally  fubjed:  to 

Commotions :  and  as  there  are  ftrange  Fer- 
ments in  the  Blood,  which  in  many  Bodys 
occalion  an  extraordinary  Difcharge  j  fo  in 
Reafon  too,  there  are  heterogeneous  Par- 
ticles which  mufl  be  thrown  off  by  Fer- 
mentation. Shou'd  Phyficians  endeavour 
abfolutely  to  allay  thofe  Ferments  of  the 
Body,  and  ftrike  in  the  Humours  which 
difcover  themfelves  in  fuch  Eruptions,  they 
might,  inftead  of  making  a  Cure,  bid  fair 
'  perhaps  to  raife  a  Plague,  and  turn  a 
-Spring-Ague  or  an  Autumn-Surfeit  into  an 
epidemical  malignant  Fever.  They  are 
certainly  as  ill  Phyficians  in  the  Body-Poli- 

^-■.  tick^  who  wou'd  needs  be  tampering  with 
thefe  mental  Eruptions  j  and  under  the 
fpecious  pretence  of  healing  this  Itch  of 
SuperfHtion,  and  faving  Souls  from  the  Con- 
tagion of  Enthufiafm,  fhou^d  fet  all  Nature 
in  an  uproar,  and  turn  a  few  innocent  Car- 
buncles into  an  Inflammation  and  mortal 
Gangrene. 

We  read  *  in  Hiftory  that  Pan,  when 
he  accompany'd  Bacchus  in  an  Expedi- 
tjpn  to  the  Indies^  found  means  to  ftrike  a 

*  Polyaeni  Strateg.  lib.  i.  c,  z. 

':  'I  Terror 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  15 

Terror  thro'  a  Hoft  of  Enemys,  by  theSe6t.  2-- 
help  of  a  fmall  Company,  whofe  Clamors  wv^^i^ 
he  manag'd  to  good  advantage  among  the 
echoing  Rocks  and  Caverns  of  a  woody 
Vale.  The  hoarfe  bellowing  of  the  Caves, 
join'd  to  the  hideous  afpedl  of  fuch  dark  and 
defart  Places,  rais'd  fuch  a  Horror  in  the 
Enemy,  that  in  this  ftate  their  Imagination 
help'd  'em  to  hear  Voices,  and  doubtlefs  to 
fee  Forms  too,  which  were  more  than  Hu- 
man :  whilft  the  Uncertainty  of  what  they 
fear'd  made  their  Fear  yet  greater,  and 
fpread  it  fafter  by  implicit  Looks  than  any 
Narration  cou'd  convey  it.  And  this  was 
what  in  after-times  Men  call'd  a  Panick. 
The  Story  indeed  gives  a  good  Hint  of  the 
nature  of  this  Paffion,  which  can  hardly  be 
without  fome  mixture  of  Enthuliafm,  and 
Horrors  of  a  fuperftitious  kind. 

One  may  with  good  reafon  call  every 
Paffion  Fanick  which  is  rais'd  in  a  *  Mul- 
titude, and  convey'd  by  Afpedt,  or  as  it 
were  by  Contad:  or  Sympathy.  Thus  po- 
pular Fury  may  be  call'd  Pafiick^  when  the 
Rage  of  the  People,  as  we  have  fome  times 
known,  has  put  them  beyond  themfelves  ; 
efpecially  where  *  Religion  has  had  to  do. 
And  in  this  ftate  their  very  Looks  are  in- 
fedtious.  The  Fury  flies  from  Face  to 
Face :  and  the  Difeafe  is  no  fooner  feen 
than  caught.     They  who  jn  a  better  Situa- 

*  Lifra,  p.  45.  and  VOL.  III.  /.  66.  in  the  Notes.      * 

tion 


i6  .7  ,^  LETTER 

SecSt.  2.tion  of  Mind  have  beheld  a  Multitude  under 
*^^W  the  power  of  this  Paffion,  have  ov^n'd  that 
they  faw  in  the  Countenances  of  Men 
fomething  more  ghaftly  and  terrible  than 
at  other  times  is  exprefs'd  on  the  moft 
paflionate  occafion.  Such  force  has  *  So- 
ciety in  ill,  as  well  as  in  good  Paflions : 
and  fo  much  ftronger  any  Affedion  is  for 
being  focial  and  communicative. 

Thus,  my  Lord,  there  are  many  Pa- 
nicks  in  Mankind,  befides  merely  that  of 
Fear.  And  thus  is  Religion  alfo  Panick ; 
when  Enthufiafm  of  any  kind  gets  up  j  as 
oft,  on  melancholy  occafions,  it  will.  For 
Vapours  naturally  rife ;  and  in  bad  times 
efpecially,  when  the  Spirits  of  Men  are  low, 
as  either  in  publick  Calamitys,  or  during  the 
Unwholefomnefs  of  Air  or  Diet,  or  when 
Convulfions  happen  in  Nature,  Storms, 
Earthquakes,  or  other  amazing  Prodigys : 
at  this  feafon  the  Panick  muft  needs  run 
high,  and  the  Magiftrate  of  neceffity  give 
way  to  it.  For  to  apply  a  lei  ious  Remedy, 
and  bring  the  Sword,  or  Fajces,  as  a  Cure, 
muft  make  the  Cafe  more  melancholy,  and 
increafe  the  very  Caufe  of  the  Diftemper. 
To  forbid  Mens  natural  Fears,  and  to  en- 
deavour the  over-powering  them  by  ocher 
Fears,  muft  needs  be  a  moft  unnatural  Me- 

*  Ififrat  p.  no,  &c.    and  VOL.  II.  /.   loo,  106,  &c. 
1 27,  &c. 

thod. 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  %j( 

thod.  The  Magiftrate,  if  he  be  any  Artlft,  Sed.  2* 
fhou'd  have  a  gentler  hand  j  and  inflead  s^^^y^^ 
of  Caufticks,  Incifions,  and  Amputations, 
fhou'd  be  ufing  the  foftefl  Balms;  and 
with  a  kind  Sympathy  entering  into  the 
Concern  of  the  People,  and  taking,  as  it 
were,  their  Paffion  upon  him,  {hou'd,  when 
he  has  footh'd  and  fatisfy'd  it,  endeavour, 
by  chearful  ways,  to  divert  and  heal  it. 

This  was  antient  Policy :  and  hence 
(as  a  notable  *  Author  of  our  Nation  ex- 
prefles  it)  'tis  necelTary  a  People  {hou'd  have 
a  Publick  Leading  in  Religion.  For  to 
deny  the  Magiftrate  a  Worftiip,  or  take 
away  a  National  Church,  is  as  mere  En- 
thufiafm  as  the  Notion  which  fets  up  Per- 
fecution.  For  why  fhou'd  there  not  be 
publick  Walks,  as  well  as  private  Gardens  ? 
Why  not  publick  Librarys,  as  well  as  pri- 
vate Education  and  Home-Tutors  ?  But  to 
prefcribe  bounds  to  Fancy  and  Speculation, 
to  regulate  Mens  Apprehenfions  and  reli- 
gious Beliefs  or  Fears,  to  fupprefs  by  Vio- 
lence the  natural  Paffion  of  Enthufiafm,  or 
to  endeavour  to  afcertain  it,  or  reduce  it  to 
one  Species,  or  bring  it  under  any  one  Mo- 
dification, is  in  truth  no  better  Senfe,  nor 
deferves  a  better  Charadler,  than  what  the 
'f  Comedian  declares  of  the  like  Projed:  in 
fhe  Affair  of  Love • 

*  H  A  R  R  I  N  G  T  o  N.  I  Ter.  Eun.  J8.  1.  Sc.  i. 

m       ..  Nihilo 


xi  A  LETTER 

^^^^* Nihtlo  plus  agas 

^lam  Ji  des  operam  ut  cum  ratione  infmiias. 

Not   only  the  Vifionarys  and  Enthu- 
fiafts    of  all    kinds   were  tolerated,   your 
Lordftiip  knows,  by  the  Antients ;  but  on 
the  other  fide,   Philofophy  had   as  free  a 
courfe,  and  was  permitted  as  a  Ballance  a- 
gainft  Superflition.    And  whilft  fome  Seds, 
fuch  as  the  Pythagorean  and  latter  Plato^ 
nick,  join'd  in  with  the  Superftition  and  En- 
thufiafm  of  the  Times  j  the  Epicurean,  the 
Academick,  and  others,  were  allow'd  to  ufe 
all  the  Force  of  Wit  and  Raillery  againft 
it.     And  thus  matters  were   happily  bal- 
lanc'd ;  Reafon  had  fair  Play ;  Learning  and 
Science  flourifh'd.     Wonderful  was  the  Har- 
mony and  Temper  which  arofe  from  all 
thefe  Contrarietys.     Thus  Superflition  and 
Enthufiafm  were  mildly  treated  j   and  being 
let  alone,  they  never  rag'd  to  that  degree 
as  to  occafion   Bloodfhed,   Wars,   Perfecu- 
tions  and  Devaftations  in  the  World.     But 
a  new  fort  of  Policy,    which  extends  it-felf 
to  another  World,  and  confiders  the  future 
Lives  and  Happinefs  of  Men  rather  than  the 
prefent,    ha~S  made  us  leap  the  Bounds  of 
natural  Humanity ;  and  out  of  a  fuperna- 
tural  Charity,   has  taught  us  the  way  of 
plaguing   one   another  moft  devoutly.     It 
has  rais'd  an  *  Antipathy  which  no  tem- 
poral Intereft  cou'd  ever  doj  and  entail'd 

*  VOL.  III.  /.  59,  60,  &c.  80; 81,  &c. 

upon 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  i^ 

upon  us  a  mutual  Hatred  to  all  Eternity.  Sedt.  2^ 
And  now  Uniformity  in  Opinion  (a  hope-  U/^VVl 
ful  Projed: !)  is  look'd  on  as  the  only  Ex- 
pedient againft  this  Evil.  The  faving  of 
Souls  is  now  the  heroick  Paffion  of  exalted 
Spirits ;  and  is  become  in  a  manner  the 
chief  Care  of  the  Magiftrate,  and  the  very 
End  of  Government  it-felf. 

I F  Magiftracy  fhou'd  vouchfafe  to  inter- 
pofe  thus  much  in  other  Sciences,  I  am 
afraid  we  fhou'd  have  as  bad  Logick,  as 
bad  Mathematicks,  and  in  every  kind  as 
bad  Philofophy,  as  we  often  have  Divinity, 
in  Countrys  where  a  precife  Orthodoxy  is 
fettled  by  Law.  'Tis  a  hard  matter  for  a 
Government  to  fettle  Wit.  If  it  does  but 
keep  us  fober  and  honeft,  'tis  likely  we 
fhall  have  as  much  Ability  in  our  fpiritual 
as  in  our  temporal  Affairs :  and  if  we  can 
but  be  trufled,  we  fhall  have  Wit  enough 
to  fave  our-felves,  when  no  Prejudice  lies 
in  the  way.  But  if  Honefly  and  Wit  be 
infufficient  for  this  faving  Work,  'tis  in 
vain  for  the  Magiflrate  to  meddle  with  it : 
lince  if  he  be  ever  fo  virtuous  or  wife, 
he  may  be  as  foon  miflaken  as  another 
Man.  I  am  fure  the  only  way  to  fave 
Mens  Senfe,  or  preferve  Wit  at  all  in  the 
World,  is  ro  give  Liberty  to  Wit.  Now 
Wit  can  never  have  its  Liberty,  where  the 
Freedom  of  Raillery  is  taken  away :  For 
againft  ferious  Extravagances   and  fplene- 

tick 


to         --     A  LETTER         ^-^ 

Sedt.  2.  tick  Humours  there  is  no  other  Remedy 
u^v^^  than  this. 

We  have  indeed  full  power  over  all  <>•  - 
ther  Modifications  of  Spleen.  We  may  treat 
other  Enthufiafms  as  we  pleafe.  We  may 
ridicule  Love,  or  Gallantry,  or  Knight-Er- 
rantry to  the  utmoft;  and  we  find,  that 
in  thefe  latter  days  of  Wit,  the  Humour 
of  this  kind,  which  was  once  fo  prevalent, 
is  pretty  well  declin'd.  The  Crulades,  the 
refcuing  of  Holy  Lands,  and  fuch  devout 
Gallantrys  are  in  lefs  requeft  than  former- 
ly :  But  if  fomething  of  this  militant  Re- 
ligion, fomething  of  this  Soul-refcuing  Spi- 
rit, and  Saint-Errantry  prevails  ftill,  we 
need  not  wonder,  when  we  confider  in  how 
folemn  a  manner  we  treat  this  Diftemper, 
and  how  prepofteroully  we  go  about  to  cure 
Enthufiafm. 

I  Can  hardly  forbear  fanfying,  that 
if  we  had  a  fort  of  Inquifition,  or  formal 
Court  of  Judicature,  with  grave  Ofiicers 
and  Judges,  eredted  to  rdftrain  Poetical 
Licence,  and  in  general  to  fupprefs  that 
Fancy  and  Humour  of  Verfification  ;  but 
in  particular  that  moft  extravagant  Paflion 
of  Love,  as  it  is  fet  out  by  Poets,  in  its 
Heathenifli  Drefs  of  Venus's  and  Cu- 
spids :  if  the  Poets,  as  Ringleaders  and 
Teachers  of  this  Herefy,  were,  under 
grievous  Penaltys,   forbid  to  enchant  the 

People 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  tt 

People  by  their  vein  of  Rhyming ;  and  if  Sedt.  3^ 
the  People,  on  the  other  fide,  were,  un-U^W 
der  proportionable  Penaltys,  forbid  to 
hearken  to  any  fuch  Charm,  or  lend  their 
Attention  to  any  Love-Tale,  fo  much  as 
in  a  Play,  a  Novel,  or  a  Ballad  ;  we  might 
perhaps  fee  a  new  Arcadia  arifing  out  of 
this  heavy  Perfecution  :  Old  People  and 
Young  would  be  feiz'd  with  a  verfifying 
Spirit :  We  fhou'd  have  Field-Conventicles 
of  Lovers  and  Poets :  Forefts  wou'd  be 
fiU'd  with  romantick  Shepherds  and  Shep- 
herdefles ;  and  Rocks  refound  with  E- 
choes  of  Hymns  and  Praifes  ofFer'd  to  the 
Powers  of  Love.  We  might  indeed  have 
a  fair  Chance,  by  this  Management,  to 
bring  back  the  whole  Train*  of  Heathen 
Gods,  and  fet  our  cold  Northern  Ifland 
burning  with  as  many  Altars  to  Venus 
and  Apollo,  as  were  formerly  in  Cyprus, 
Delos,  or  any  of  thofe  warmer  Grecian 
Climates. 

SECT.     III. 

BU  T,  my  Lord,  you  may  perhaps  won- 
der, that  having  been  drawn  into  fuch 
a  ferious  Subjed:  as  Religion,  I  fhou'd  for- 
get my  felf  fo  far  as  to  give  way  to  Rail- 
lery and  Humour.  I  muft  own,  my  Lord, 
*tis  not  merely  thro*  Chance  that  this  has 
happen'd.  To  fay  truth,  I  hardly  care  fo 
much  as  to  think  on  this  Subje(a,  much 
I  lefs 


22  -t^  A  LETTER 

Sed:.  3.  lefs  to  write  on  it,  without  endeavouring 
^^^N-^  to  put  my  felf  in  as  good  Humour  as  iS 
poffible.  People  indeed,  who  can  endure 
no  middle  Temper,  but  are  all  Air  and  Hu- 
mour, know  little  of  the  Doubts  and  Scru- 
ples of  Religion,  and  are  fafe  from  any  im- 
mediate Influence  of  devout  Melancholy  or 
Enthujiafm  j  which  requires  more  Delibe^ 
ration  and  thoughtful  Practice  to  fix  it-felf 
in  a  Temper,  and  grow  habitual.  But  be 
the  Habit  what  it  will ;  to  be  deliver'd  of 
it  at  fo  fad  a  Coft  as  Inconfideratenefs,  or 
Madnefs,  is  what  I  wou'd  never  wifh  to 
be  my  Lot.  I  had  rather  ftand  all  Adven-^ 
tures  with  Religion,  than  endeavour  to 
get  rid  of  the  Thoughts  of  it  by  Diverfion, 
All  I  contend  for,  is  to  think  of  it  in  a 
right  Humour  :  and  that  this  goes  more 
than  half-way  towards  thinking  rightly  of 
it,  is  what  I  fhall  endeavour  to  demon* 
flrate. 

Good  Humour  is  not  only  the  beft 
Security  againft  EnthufaJ'm,  but  the  beft 
Foundation  of  Fiety  and  true  Religion : 
For  if  right  Thoughts  and  worthy  Ap- 
prehenfions  of  the  Supreme  Being,  are 
fundamental  to  all  true  Worfhip  and  Ado- 
ration ;  'tis  more  than  probable,  that  we 
fhall  never  mifcarry  in  this  refpeft,  except 
thro*  ill  Humour  only.  Nothing  befide 
ill  Humour,  either  natural  or  forc'd,  can 
bring  a  Man  to  think  ferioufly  that  the 
"'  •     '  '       ^  World 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  ij 

World  is  govern'd  by  any  devilifh  or  ma-Se(5l.  3. 
licious  Power.  I  very  much  queftion  whe-L^v'^v^ 
ther  any  thing,  befides  ill  Humour,  can  be 
the  Caufe  of  Atheifm.  For  there  are  fo 
many  Arguments  to  perfuade  a  Man  in 
Humour,  that,  in  the  main,  all  things  are 
kindly  and  well  difpos'd,  that  one  wou'd 
think  it  impoffible  for  him  to  be  fo  far  out 
of  conceit  with  Affairs,  as  to  imagine  they 
all  ran  at  adventures  ;  and  that  the  Worlds 
as  venerable  and  wile  a  Face  as  it  carry 'd, 
had  neither  Senfe  nor  Meaning  in  it.  This 
however  I  am  perfuaded  of,  that  nothing 
bcfide  ill  Humour  can  give  us  dreadful  or 
ill  Thoughts  of  a  Supreme  Manager.  No- 
thing can  perfuade  us  of  Sullennefs  or 
Sournefs  in  fuch  a  Beings  befide  the  ad:ual 
fore-feeling  of  fomewhat  of  this  kind  with- 
in our-felves :  and  if  we  are  afraid  of  bring- 
ing good  Humour  into  Religion,  or  think- 
ing with  Freedom  and  Pleafantnefs  on  fuch 
a  Subjedt  as  God;  'tis  becaufe  we  con- 
ceive the  Subject  fo  like  our-felves,  and 
can  hardly  have  a  Notion  of  Majejty  and 
Greafnejsy  without  StatelineJ's  and  Morofe* 
nefs  accompanying  it. 

This,  however,  is  the  juft  Reverfe  of 
that  Charadter,  which  we  own  to  be  moft 
divinely  Good^  when  we  fee  it,  as  we  fome- 
times  do,  in  Men  of  higheft  Power  among 
us.  If  they  pafs  for  truly  Qood^  we  dare 
treat  them  freely,  and  are  fure  they  will 

Vol.  I.  C  not 


24  -A  LETTER 

Sed.  3. not  be  difpleas'd  with  this  Liberty.  They 
(•V^  are  doubly  Gainers  by  this  Goodnefs  of 
theirs.  For  the  more  they  are  fearch'd 
into,  and  familiarly  examin'd,  the  more 
their  Worth  appears ;  and  the  Difcoverer, 
charm'd  with  his  Succefs,  efteems  and  loves 
more  than  ever,  when  he  has  prov'd  this 
additional  Bounty  in  his  Superior,  and  re- 
fle(fts  on  that  Candor  and  Generofity  he 
has  experienc'd.  Your  Lordfhip  knows 
more  perhaps  of  this  Myflery  than  any- 
one. How  elfe  fhou'd  you  have  been  fo 
belov'd  in  Power,  and  out  of  Power  fo  ad- 
her'd  to,  and  ftill  more  belov'd  ? 

Thank  Heaven !  there  are  even  in 
our  own  Age  fome  fuch  Examples.  In 
former  Ages  there  have  been  many  fuch. 
We  have  known  mighty  Princes,  and  even 
Emperors  of  the  World,  who  cou'd  bear 
unconcernedly,  not  only  the  free  Cenfurc 
of  their  A(ftions,  but  the  mofl  fpiteful  Re- 
proaches and  Calumnys,  even  to  their 
faces.  Some  perhaps  may  wifh  there  had 
never  been  fuch  Examples  found  in  Hea- 
thens-, but  more  efpecially,  that  the  occa- 
fion  had  never  been  given  by  Chrijiians. 
'Twas  more  the  Misfortune  indeed  of 
Mankind  in  general,  than  of  Chriftians  in 
particular,  that  fome  of  the  earlier  Roman 
•  Emperors  were  fuch  Monfters  of  Tyran- 
ny, and  began  a  Perfecution,  not  on  reli- 
gious Mem  merely,  but  on  all  who  were 
jofi  -  ■'  fufpedted 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  ly 

fufpedted  of  Worth  or  Virtue.  What  cou'd  Sedt.  3. 
have  been  a  higher  Honour  or  Advantage  V/^VNJ 
to  Chriftianity,  than  to  be  perfecuted  by 
a  Nero?  But  better  Princes,  who  came 
after,  were  perfuaded  to  remit  thefe  fevere 
Courfes.  'Tis  true,  the  Magiftrate  might 
poffibly  have  been  furpriz'd  with  the  new- 
nefs  of  a  Notion,  which  he  might  pretend^ 
perhaps,  did  not  only  deftroy  the  Sacred- 
nefs  of  his  Power,  but  treated  him  and  all 
Men  as  profane,  impious,  and  damn'd,  who 
enter'd  not  into  certain  particular  Modes 
of  Worfliip ;  of  which  there  had  been  for- 
merly fo  many  thoufand  inftituted,  all  of 
'em  compatible  and  fociable  till  that  time. 
However,  fuch  was  the  Wifdom  of  fome 
fucceeding  Miniftrys,  that  the  Edge  of 
Perfecution  was  much  abated ;  and  even 
that  *  Prince,  who  was  efteem'd  the  great- 
eft  Enemy  of  the  Chriftian  Sed:,  and  who 
himfelf  had  been  educated  in  it,  was  a 
great  Reftrainer  of  Perfecution,  and  wou*d 
allow  of  nothing  further  than  a  Refump- 
tion  of  Church-Lands  and  publick  Schools, 
without  any  attempt  on  the  Goods  or  Per- 
fons  even  of  thofe  who  branded  the  State- 
Religion,  and  made  a  Merit  of  affronting 
the  publick  Worfhip. 

*T  I  s  well  we  have  the  Authority  of  a 
facred  Author  in  our  Religion,  to  affure  us, 

*  Sec  VOL.  III.  p.  87,  88,  89.  in  the  Notes. 

C  2  that 


x6  A  LETTER 

Sed:.  3.  that  the  Spirit  of  *  Love  and  Humanity  is 
(•'V^  above  that  of  Martyrs,  Other  wife,  one 
might  be  a  little  fcandaliz'd,  perhaps,  at 
the  Hiftory  of  many  of  our  primitive  Con- 
feflbrs  and  Martyrs,  even  according  to  our 
ovfn  accounts.  There  is  hardly  now  in 
the  World  fo  good  a  Chriftian  (if  this  be 
indeed  the  Mark  of  a  good  one)  who,  if 
he  happen'd  to  live  at  Conjiantinople,  or 
elfewhere  under  the  Protedtion  of  the 
Turks,  would  think  it  fitting  or  decent  to 
give  any  Difturbance  to  their  Mofque- 
Worfhip.  And  as  good  Proteftants,  my 
Lord,  as  you  and  I  are,  we  fhou'd  confider 
him  as  little  better  than  a  rank  Enthufiaft, 
who,  out  of  hatred  to  the  Romiih  Idola- 
try, {hou'd,  in  time  of  high  Mafs  (where 
Mafs  perhaps  was  by  Law  eftablifh'd)  in- 
terrupt the  Prieft  with  Clamors,  or  fall 
foul  on  his  Images  and  Relicks. 

There  are  fome,  it  feems,  of  our 
good  Brethren,  the  French  Proteftants, 
lately  come  among  us,  who  are  mightily 
taken  with  this  Primitive^  way.  They 
have  fet  a-foot  the  Spirit  of  Martyrdom 
to  a  wonder  in  their  own  Country;  and 
they  long  to  be  trying  it  here,  if  we  will 
give  'em  leave,  and  afford  *em  the  Occa- 
^  lion :  that  is  to  fay,  if  we  will  only  do  em 

•the  favour  to  hang  or  imprifon  em  5  if  we 

*  I  Cor.  ch.  xiii.  ver.  3. 
?5>fj(  »  '3  will 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  27 

will  only  be  fo  obliging  as  to  break  their  Sed:.  3. 
Bones  for  *em,  after  their  Country-fafliion,  L/^V^ 
blow  up  their  Zeal,  and  ftir  a-frefh  the 
Coals  of  Perfecution.  But  no  fuch  Grace 
can  they  hitherto  obtain  of  us.  So  hard- 
hearted we  are,  that  notwithflanding  their 
own  Mob  are  willing  to  beftow  kind 
Blows  upon  'em,  and  fairly  ftone  'em  now 
and  then  in  the  open  Street ;  tho  the  Priefts 
of  their  own  Nation  wou'd  gladly  give 
'em  their  defir'd  Difcipline,  and  are  earneft 
to  light  their  probationary  Fires  for  'em  -, 
we  Englijh  Men,  who  are  Mailers  in  our 
own  Country,  will  not  fuffer  the  Enthu- 
liafts  to  be  thus  us'd.  Nor  can  we  be  fup- 
pos'd  to  a(St  thus  in  envy  to  their  Phenix- 
Sedt,  which  it  feems  has  rifen  out  of  the 
Flames,  and  wou'd  willingly  grow  to  be  a 
new  Church  by  the  fame  manner  of  Pro- 
pagation as  the  old-one,  whofe  Seed  was 
truly  faid  to  be  from  the  Blood  of  the 
Martyrs. 

But  how  barbarous  ftill,  and  more 
than  heatheniflily  cruel,  are  we  tolerating 
Englijh  Men !  For,  not  contented  to  deny 
thefe  prophefying  Enthuliafls  the  Honour 
of  a  Perfecution,  we  have  deliver'd  'em 
over  to  the  cruelleft  Contempt  in  the 
World.  I  am  told,  for  certain,  that  they 
are  at  *  this  very  time  the  Subjedt  of  a 

*  Viz.  Anne  1707. 

C  3  choice 


28  .^LETTER       .^ 

Scd:.  3.  choice  Droll  or  Puppet- Show  at  Barflemy- 
v^^V>^  Fair.  There,  doubtlefs,  their  ftrange 
Voices  and  involuntary  Agitations  are 
admirably  well  ad:ed,  by  the  Motion  of 
Wires,  and  Infpiration  of  Pipes.  For  the 
Bodys  of  the  Prophets,  in  their  State  of 
Prophecy,  being  not  in  their  own  power, 
but  (as  they  fay  themfelves)  mere  paffive 
Organs,  ad:uated  by  an  exterior  Force, 
have  nothing  natural,  or  refembling  real 
Life,  in  any  of  their  Sounds  or  Motions : 
fo  that  how  aukardly  foever  a  Puppet- 
Show  may  imitate  other  Adtions,  it  muft 
needs  reprefent  this  Paffion  to  the  Life, 
And  whilft  Bart' kmy-F ^.ir  is  in  pofleffion 
of  this  Privilege,  I  dare  fland  Security  to 
our  National  Church,  that  no  Se£t  of  En- 
thufiafts,  no  new  Venders  of  Prophecy  or 
Miracles,  fhall  ever  get  the  ftart,  or  put 
her  to  the  trouble  of  trying  her  Strength 
with  'em,  in  any  Cafe. 

Happy  it  was  for  us,  that  when  Po- 
pery had  got  pofTeflion,  Smithfield  was  us'd 
in  a  more  tragical  way.  Many  of  our  firft 
Reformers,  'tis  fear'd,  were  little  better 
than  Enihufiafts :  and  God  knows  whe- 
ther a  Warmth  of  this  kind  did  not  confi- 
derably  help  us  in  throwing  ofif  that  fpiri- 
lual  Tyranny.  So  that  had  not  the  Priefls, 
as  is  ufual,  prefer'd  the  love  of  Blood  to 
all  other  Paffions,  they  might  in  a  merrier 
way,  perhaps,  have  evaded  the  greateft 
2  Force 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  ip 

Force  of  our  reforming  Spirit.  I  never  Sedl.  3, 
heard  that  the  antient  Heathens  were  fo  ^>^VNJ 
well  advis'd  in  their  ill  Purpofe  of  fup- 
prefling  the  Chriftian  Religion  in  its  firft 
Rife,  as  to  make  ufe,  at  any  time,  of  this 
Barflemy-F2\v  Method.  But  this  I  am  per- 
fuaded  of,  that  had  the  Truth  of  the  Gof- 
pel  been  any  way  furmountable,  they 
wou'd  have  bid  much  fairer  for  the  iilen- 
cing  it,  if  they  had  chofen  to  bring  our 
primitive  Founders  upon  the  Stage  in  a 
pleafanter  way  than  that  of  Bear-Skins 
and  Pitch-Barrels. 

The  Jews  were  naturally  a  very  *  clou- 
dy People,  and  wou'd  endure  little  Rail- 
lery in  any  thing ;  much  lefs  in  what  be- 
long'd  to  any  religious  Dodrines  or  Opi- 
nions. Religion  was  look'd  upon  with  a 
fullen  Eye ;  and  Hanging  was  the  only 
Remedy  they  cou'd  prefcribe  for  any  thing 
which  look'd  like  fetting  up  a  new  Revela- 
tion. The  fovereign  Argument  was,  Cru^ 
cify.  Crucify.  But  with  all  their  Malice 
and  Inveteracy  to  our  Saviour,  and  his 
Apoftles  after  him,  had  they  but  taken  the 
Fancy  to  ad:  fuch  Puppet-Shows  in  his 
Contempt,  as  at  this  hour  the  Papifls  are 
ading  in  his  Honour  j  I  am  apt  to  think 

*  Our  Author  having  been  cenfur'd  for  this  and  feme  fol- 
lowing Paflages  concerning  the  Jews,  the  Reader  is  referr'd 
to  the  Notes  and  Citations  in  VOL.  III.  p.  53,  4,  $,  6. 
And,  ibid.  1 1  5,  1 16,  &c.     See  alfo  below,  p.  282,  283. 

C  4  they 


30  ^LETTER'    q> 

Sed.  3- they   might    pofTibly   have  done  our  Re* 
t/^V^  ligion  more  harm,  than  by  all  their  other 
ways  of  Severity. 

I  Believe  our  great  and  learned  Apo- 
ftle  found  *  lefs  Advantage  from  the  eafy 
Treatment  of  his  Athenian  Antagonifts, 
than  from  the  furly  and  curft  Spirit  of  the 
moft  perfecuting  Jewijh  Citys.  He  made 
lefs  Improvement  of  the  Candor  and  Ci- 
vility of  his  Roman  Judges,  than  of  the 
Zeal  of  the  Synagogue,  and  Vehemence 
of  his  National  Priefts.  Tho  when  I  con- 
fider  this  Apoftle  as  appearing  either  be- 
fore the  witty  Athenians^  or  before  a  Ro- 
man Court  of  Judicature,  in  the  Prefence 
of  their  great  Men  and  Ladys,  and  fee 
how  handfomly  he  accommodates  himfelf 
to  the  Apprehenfions  and  Temper  of  thofe 
politer  People :  I  do  not  find  that  he  de- 
clines the  way  of  Wit  or  good  Humour-, 
but,  without  fufpicion  of  his  Gaufe,  is 
willing  generoufly  to  commit  it  to  this 
Proof,  and  try  it  againft  the  Sharpnefs  of 
any  Ridicule  which  might  be  offer'd. 

But  tho  the  Jews  were  never  pleased 
to  try  their  Wit  or  Malice  this  way  againft 

*  What  Advantage  he  made  of  his  Sufferings,  and  how  pa- 
thetically his  Bonds  and  Stripes  were  fet  to  view,  and  often 
pleaded  by  him,  to  raife  his  Charafter,  and  advance  the  Inte- 
refl  of  Chriflianity,  any  one  who  reads  his  Epiflles,  and  is  well 
acquainted  with  his  Manner  and  Style,  may  eafily  obferve. 

our 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  31 

our  Saviour  or  his  Apoftles ;  the  irreligious  Sedt.  3. 
part  of  the  Heathens  had  try'd  it  long  >^^Y\f 
before  againft  the  beft  Dodrines^and  beft 
Charad:ers  of  Men  which  had  ever  arifen 
amongft  'em.  Nor  did  this  prove  in  the 
end  an  Injury,  but  on  the  contrary  the 
higheft  Advantage  to  thofe  very  Charac- 
ters and  Doctrines,  which,  having  flood 
the  Proof,  were  found  fo  folid  and  juft. 
The  divineft  Man  who  had  ever  appear'd 
in  the  Heathen  World,  was  in  the  height 
of  witty  Times,  and  by  the  wittiefl  of 
all  Poets,  moft  abominably  ridicul'd,  in  a 
whole  Comedy  writ  and  ad:ed  on  purpofe. 
But  fo  far  was  this  from  finking  his  Re- 
putation, or  fuppreffing  his  Philofophy, 
that  they  each  increas'd  the  more  for  it ; 
and  he  apparently  grew  to  be  more  the 
Envy  of  other  Teachers.  He  was  not  on- 
ly contented  to  be  ridicul'd  j  but,  that  he 
might  help  the  Poet  as  much  as  poffible, 
he  prefented  himfelf  openly  in  the  Thea- 
ter J  that  his  real  Figure  (which  was  no 
advantageous  one)  might  be  compar'd  with 
that  which  the  witty  Poet  had  brought 
as  his  Reprefentative  on  the  Stage.  Such 
was  his  good  Humour!  Nor  cou'd  there 
be  in  the  World  a  greater  Teftimony  of 
the  invincible  Goodnefs  of  the  Man,  or  a 
greater  Demonftration,  that  there  was  no 
Impofture  either  in  his  Character  or  Opi- 
nions. For  that  Impofture  fhou'd  dare 
fuftain  the  Encounter  of  a  grave  Enemy,  is 

no 


^i  A  LETTER 

Sedt.  4.  no  wonder.     A  folemn  Attack,  fhe  knows, 
^•v^w  is  not  of  fuch  danger   to   her.     There  is 

nothing  fhe  abhors  or  dreads  like  Pleafant- 

nefs  and  good  Humour, 


I 


SECT.    IV. 

"N  SHORT,  my  Lord,  the  melancholy 
_  way  of  treating  Religion  is  that  which, 
according  to  my  apprenenfion,  renders  it 
fo  tragical,  and  is  the  occafion  of  its  a<ft- 
ing  in  reality  fuch  difmal  Tragedys  in  the 
World.  And  my  Notion  is,  that  provi- 
ded we  treat  Religion  with  good  Man- 
ners, we  can  never  ufe  too  much  good  Hu- 
mour^ or  examine  it  with  too  much  Free^ 
dom  and  Familiarity.  For,  if  it  be  genuine 
■^  and    fincerc,    it    will    not  only  fland   the 

Proof,  but  thrive  and  gain  advantage  from 
hence  :  if  it  be  fpurious,  or  mix'd  with 
any  Impofture,  it  will  be  deteded  and 
expos'd. 

The  melancholy  way  in  which  we 
have  been  taught  Religion,  makes  us  unapt 
to  think  of  it  in  good  Humour.  'Tis  in 
Adverfity  chiefly,  or  in  ill  Health,  under 
AfBidtion,  or  Difturbance  of  Mind,  or  Dif- 
compofure  of  Temper,  that  we  have  re- 
courfe  to  it.  Tho  in  reality  we  arc  never 
fo  unfit  to  think  of  it  as  at  fuch  a  heavy 
and  dark  hour.  We  can  never  be  fit  to 
contemplate    any   thing  above  us,    when 

we 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  jj 

we  arc  in  no  condition  lo  look  into  our-  Stdi.  4. 
felves,  and  calmly  examine  the  Temper  of  ^^^v^^ 
our  own  Mind  and  Paffions.  For  then  it 
is  we  fee  Wrath,  and  Fury,  and  Revenge, 
and  Terrors  in  the  Deity;  when  we  are 
full  of  Difturbances  and  Fears  within^  and 
have,  by  Sufferance  and  Anxiety,  lofl  fo 
much  of  the  natural  Calm  and  Eafinefs  of 
our  Temper. 

We  muft  not  only  be  in  ordinary  good 
Humour,  but  in  the  beft  of  Humours, 
and  in  the  fweeteft,  kindeft  Difpofition 
of  our  Lives,  to  underftand  well  what 
true  Goodnejs  is,  and  what  thofe  Attri- 
butes imply,  which  we  afcribe  with  fuch 
Applaufe  and  Honour  to  //6^  D  e  i  t  y.  We 
fhall  then  be  able  to  fee  beft,  whether 
thofe  Forms  of  Juftice,  thofe  Degrees  of 
Puniftiment,  that  Temper  of  Refentment, 
and  thofe  Meafures  of  Offence  and  Indig- 
nation, which  we  vulgarly  fuppofe  in  G  o  d, 
are  futable  to  thofe  original  Ideas  of  Good- 
nefs^  which  the  fame  Divine  Being,  or 
Nature  under  him,  has  implanted  in  us, 
and  which  we  muft  neceffarily  prefuppofe, 
in  order  to  give  him  Praife  or  Honour  in 
any  kind.  This,  my  Lord,  is  the  Secu- 
rity againft  all  Superftition :  To  remem- 
ber, that  there  is  nothing  in  God  but 
what  is  God-like 'y  and  that  He  is  either 
not  at  ally  or  truly  and  perfectly  Good.  But 
when  we   are  afraid  to    ufe  our   Reafon 

freely, 


34  ^  LETTER 

Sedt.  4.  freely,  even  on  that  veryQueftion,  "  Whe- 
^/V"'^^ «  ther  He  really  be,  or  not ;"  we  then 
actually  prefume  him  bad,  and  flatly  con- 
tradid:  that  pretended  Character  of  Good- 
nefs  and  Greatnefs ;  whilft  we  difcover  this 
Miftruft  of  his  Temper,  and  fear  his  Anger 
and  Refentment,  in  the  cafe  of  this  Free- 
dom  o/'  Inquiry. 

We  have  a  notable  Inftance  of  this  Free- 
dom  in  one  of  our  facred  Authors.  As 
patient  as  Job  is  faid  to  be,  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  he  makes  bold  enough  with 
God,  and  takes  his  Providence  roundly  to 
tafk.  His  Friends,  indeed,  plead  hard  with 
him,  and  ufe  all  Arguments,  right  or  wrong, 
to  patch  up  Objeftions,  and  fet  the  Affairs 
of  Piovidence  upon  an  equal  foot.  They 
'  make  a  merit  of  faying  all  the  Good  they 
can  of  G  o  D,  at  the  very  ftretch  of  their 
Reafon,  and  fometimes  quite  beyond  it. 
But  this,  in  Job's  opinion,  is  *  fattering 
God,  accepting  of  Oo d's  Perfon,  and  even 
mocking  him.  And  no  wonder.  For,  what 
merit  can  there  be  in  believing  God,  or 
his  Providence,  upon  frivolous  and  weak 
grounds?  What  Virtue  in  affuming  an 
Opinion  contrary  to  the  appearance  of 
Things,  and  refolving  to  hear  nothing 
which  may  be  faid  againfl:  it  ?  Excellent 
Charadler  of  the  God  of  Truth !  that  he 
fhou'd  be  offended  at  us,  for  having  refus'd 

*  Chap.  xiii.  ver.  7,  8,9,  &  10. 

to 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  jj 

to  put  the  lye  upon  our  UnderfttndingSjSeft.  4. 
as  much  as  in  us  lay ;  and  be  fatisfy'd  with  u*^VNJ 
us  for  having  believ'd  at  a  venture,  and 
againft  our  Reafon,  what  might  have  been 
the  greateft  Falfhood  in  the  world,  for  any 
thing  we  cou'd  bring  as  a  Proof  or  Evi- 
dence to  the  contrary ! 

It  is  impoflible  that  any  befides  an  ill- 
natur'd  Man  can  wifli  againft  the  Being  of 
a  G  o  D :  for  this  is  wiftiing  againft  the  Pub- 
lick,  and  even  againft  one's  private  Good 
too,  if  rightly  underftood.  But  if  a  Man 
has  not  any  fuch  Ill-will  to  ftifle  his  Belief, 
he  muft  have  furely  an  unhappy  Opinion  of 
God,  and  believe  him  not  fo  good  by  far 
as  he  knows  Himfelf  to  be,  if  he  imagines 
that  an  impartial  Ufe  of  his  Reafon,  in  any 
matter  of  Speculation  whatfoever,  can  make 
him  run  any  rifk  Hereafter ;  and  that  a 
mean  Denial  of  his  Reafon^  and  an  Affe5ia- 
tion  of  Belief  in  any  Point  too  hard  for 
his  Underftanding,  can  intitle  him  to  any 
Favour  in  another  World.  This  is  being 
Sycophants  in  Religion,  mere  Parajites  of 
Devotion.  'Tis  ufing  G  o  d  as  the  crafty 
*  Beggars  ufe  thofe  they  addrefs  to,  when 
they  are  ignorant  of  their  Quality.  The 
Novices  amongft  'em  may  innocently  come 
out,  perhaps,  with  a  Good  Sir,  or  a  Good 
Forfooth!  But  with  the  old  Stagers,  no 
matter  whom  they  meet  in  a  Coach,  'tis 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  125,6,7,8. 

always 


3*5 


A  LETTER 


Se(5l.  4.  always  Good  your  Honour !  or  Good  your 
\yV^  Lordjhip  !  or  your  Ladyjhip  !  For  if  there 
fhou'd  be  really  a  Lord  in  the  cafe,  we 
fhou'd  be  undone  (fay  they)  for  want  of 
giving  the  Title :  but  if  the  Party  {hou*d 
be  no  Lord,  there  wou'd  be  no  Offence  5 
it  wou'd  not  be  ill  taken. 

And   thus  it  is  in  Religion.     We  are 
highly  concern'd  how  to   beg  right;    and 
think  all   depends  upon  hitting  the  I'itle, 
and  making  a  good  Guefs.     'Tis  the  moft 
beggarly  Refuge  imaginable,   which   is  fo 
mightily  cry'd  up,    and  ftands  as  a  great 
Maxim  with  many  able  Men ;  "  That  they 
"  fhou'd  ftrive  to  have  Faith,  and  believe 
"  to  the  utmoft :  becaufe  if,  after  all,  there 
"  be  nothing  in  the  matter,  there  will  be 
"  no  harm  in  being  thus  deceiv'd;  but  if 
"  there  be  any  thing,  it  will  be  fatal  for 
"  them  not  to  have  believ'd  to  the  full." 
But  they  are  fo  far  miftaken,  that  whilft 
they  have  this  Thought,  'tis  certain  they 
can  never  believe  either  to  their  Satisfac- 
tion and  Happinefs  in  this  World,  or  with 
any    advantage    of    Recommendation    to 
another.      For    befides    that    our  Reafon, 
which  knows  the  Cheat,    will  never  reft 
thorowly  fatisfy'd  'on  fuch  a  Bottom,  but 
turn  us  often  a-drift,  and  tofs  us  in  a  Sea 
of  Doubt  and  Perplexity  5  we  cannot  but 
actually  grow  worfe  in  our  Religion,  and 
entertain  a  worfe  Opinion  ftill  of  a  Supreme 

Deity, 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  j/ 

Deity,  whilft  our  Belief  is  founded  on Seft.  4. 
fo  injurious  a  Thought  of  him.  L^V^i 

T  o  love  the  Publick,  to  ftudy  univer- 
fal  Good,  and  to  promote  the  Intereft  of 
the  whole  World,  as  far  as  lies  within  our 
power,  is  furely  the  Height  of  Goodnefs, 
and  makes  that  Temper  which  we  call 
Divine.  In  this  Temper,  my  Lord,  (for 
furely  you  (hou'd  know  it  well)  'tis  natu- 
ral for  us  to  wifh  that  others  fliou'd  par- 
take with  us,  by  being  convinc'd  of  the 
Sincerity  of  our  Example.  'Tis  natural 
for  us  to  wifh  our  Merit  {hou'd  be  known ; 
particularly,  if  it  be  our  fortune  to  have 
ferv'd  a  Nation  as  a  good  Minifter ;  or  as 
fome  Prince,  or  Father  of  a  Country,  to 
have  render'd  happy  a  confiderable  Part  of 
Mankind  under  our  Care.  But  if  it  hap- 
pen'd,  that  of  this  number  there  fhou'd 
be  fome  fo  ignorantly  bred,  and  of  fo  re- 
mote a  Province,  as  to  have  lain  out  of 
the  hearing  of  our  Name  and  Adtions ;  or 
hearing  of  'em,  fhou'd  be  fo  puzzl'd  with 
odd  and  contrary  Storys  told  up  and  down 
concerning  us,  that  they  knew  not  what 
to  think,  whether  there  were  really  in  the 
World  any  fuch  Perfon  as  our-felf :  Shou'd 
we  not,  in  good  truth,  be  ridiculous  to 
take  offence  at  this  ?  And  (hou'd  we  not 
pafs  for  extravagantly  morofe  and  ill- 
humour'd,  if  inftead  of  treating  the  mat- 
ter in  Raillery^  we  fhou'd  think  in  earneft: 

of 


38  A  LETTER 

Sed:.  5.  of  revenging   our-J elves    on    the    offending 
L/V^^  Partys,    who,    out  of  their  ruftick  Igno- 
rance,   ill  Judgment,   or  Incredulity,  had 
detracted  from  our  Renown  ? 

How  (hall  we  fay  then  ?  Does  it  really 
deferve  Praife,  to  be  thus  concern'd  about 
it  ?  Is  the  doing  Good  for  Glory's  fake,  fo 
divine  a  thing  ?  or,  Is  it  not  diviner,  to  do 
Good  even  where  it  may  be  thought  inglo- 
rious, even  to  the  Ingrateful,  and  to  thofe 
who  are  wholly  infenfible  of  the  Good 
they  receive  ?  How  comes  it  then,  that 
what  is  fo  divine  in  us,  fhou'd  lofe  its  Cha- 
radter  in  the  Divine  Being  F  And  that  ac- 
cording as  the  De  i  t  y  is  reprefented  to  us, 
he  fhou'd  more  refemble  the  weak,  *  wo- 
manifh,  and  impotent  part  of  our  Nature, 
than  the  generous,  manly,  and  divine  ? 

SECT.     V. 

ON  E  wou'd  think,  my  Lord,  it  were 
in  reality  no  hard  thing  to  know 
our  own  WeaknefTes  at  firfl  fight,  and 
diflinguifh  the  Features  of  human  Frailty, 
with  which  we  are  fo  well  acquainted. 
One  wou'd  think  it  were  eafy  to  under- 
ftand,  that  Provocation  and  Offence,  An- 
ger, Revenge,  Jealoufy  in  point  of  Ho- 
•nour  or  Power,  Love  of  Fame,  Glory, 
and  the  like,  belong  only  to  limited  Be- 

*  hfra,  p.  3 3 1 .     And  VOL. III.  /. 306. 

ings, 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  ^p 

ings,  and  are  neceflarily  excluded  a  Being  Sedt.  5.' 
which  is  perfedl  and  univerfal.  But  if  we  ^^•v^V 
have  never  fettled  with  our-felves  any 
Notion  of  what  is  morally  excellent  j  or  if 
we  cannot  truft  to  that  Reafon  which 
tells  us,  that  nothing  befide  what  is  fo^  can 
have  place  m  the  V>y.ity  ;  we  can  nei- 
ther truft  to  any  thing  which  others  relate 
of  him,  or  which  he  himfelf  reveals  to  us. 
We  mufl  be  fatisfy'd  before-hand,  that  he 
is  good,  and  cannot  deceive  us.  Without 
this,  there  can  be  no  real  religious  Faith, 
or  Confidence.  Now,  if  there  be  really  ^^ 
fomething  previous  to  Revelation,  fome 
antecedent  Demonflration  of  Reafon,  to 
afTure  us  that  God  is,  and  withal,  that 
he  is  fo  good  as  not  to  deceive  us;  the 
fame  Reafon,  if  we  will  truft  to  it,  will 
demonftrate  to  us,  that  God  is  fo  good 
as  to  exceed  the  very  befl  of  us  in  Good" 
nefs.  hx\A  after  this  manner  we  can  have 
no  Dread  or  Sufpicion  to  render  us  uneafy  ; 
for  it  is  Malice  only,  and  not  Goodnefs^ 
which  can  make  us  afraid. 

There  is  an  odd  way  of  reafoning, 
but  in  certain  Diftempers  of  Mind  very 
fovereign  to  thofe  who  can  apply  it ; 
and  it  is  this  :  "  There  can  be  no  Malice 
"  but  where  Interefts  are  oppos'd.  A 
"  univerfal  Being  can  have  no  Interefl 
"  oppofite ;  and  therefore  can  have  no 
**  Malice."     If  there   be  a  general  Mindy 

Vol.  I.  D  U 


40  A  LETTER 

Se(5t.  5.  it   can  have   no  particular  Interefl :    But 
(•VV  the  general  Good,  or  Good  of  the  Whole, 
and  its  own  private  Good,    mull  of  ne- 
cellity  be  one  and  the  fame.    It  can  in- 
tend   nothing    befides,     nor    aim   at   any 
thing    beyond,     nor   be  provok'd   to  any 
thing  contrary.      So   that   we   have  only 
to  confider,   whether  there  be  really  fuch 
a  thing  as  a  Mind  which  has  relation  to  the 
Whole,   or  not.    For  if  unhappily  there  be 
no  Mind,    we    may   comfort    our   felves, 
however,    that  Nature  has  no  Malice:   If 
there  be   really   r?  Mind,    we  may  reft 
fatisfy'd,   that  it  is  the  beji-natur' d  one  in 
the  World.     The  laft  Cafe,  one  wou'd  ima- 
gine,   (hou'd.    be   the    mofl:  comfortable ; 
and  the  Notion  of  a  common  Parent  lefs 
frightful  than  that  o{  forlorn  Nature,   and 
a  fatherlefs    World.      Tho,     as    Religion 
itands  amongft  us,    there  are  many  good 
People  who  wou'd  have  lefs  Fear  in  being 
thus  expos'd  ;    and  wou'd  be  eafier,    per- 
haps, in  their  Minds,  if  they  were  aflur'd 
they   had   only   mere  Chance  to   truft  to. 
For  no  body  trembles  to  think  there  fhou'd 
be  no  God  j    but  rather  that  there  Jhottd 
be  one.     This   however   wou'd  be  other- 
wife,     if  Deity  were    thought  as  kindly 
of  as  Humanity-,    and  we  cou'd   be  per- 
fuaded    to    believe,    that    if   there  really 
Was  ^  G  o  D,   the  higheji  Goodnefs  muft  of 
neceiTity  belong  to  him,    without  any  of 

thofe 


concernmg  Enthusiasm.  41 

thofe  *  Defeas  of  Paffion,    thofe  Mean-Sed:.  5.: 
nefles   and   Imperfedlions    which    we   ac-^-^^YNJ 
knowledg  fuch  in  our-felves,  which  as  good 
Men  we  endeavour  all  we  can  to  be  fu- 
perior  to,  and  which  we  find  we  every  day- 
conquer  as  we  grow  better. 

Methinks,  my  Lord,  it  wou'd  be 
well  for  us,  if  before  -f-  we  afcended  into 
the  higher  Regions  of  Divinity,  we  wou'd 
vouchfafe  to  defcend  a  little  into  our- 
fiheSy  and  beftow  fome  poor  Thoughts 
upon  plain  honeil  Morals.  When  we  had 
once  look'd  into  our-felves,  and  dilHn- 
guifli'd  well  the  nature  of  our  own  Af- 
fections, we  fhou'd  probably  be  fitter 
Judges  of  the  Divinenefs  of  a  Character, 
and  difcern  better  what  Aifedtions  were 
futable  or  unfutable  to  a  perfeB  Being, 
We  might  then  underftand  how  to  love 
and  praife,  when  we  had  acquir'd  fome 
confiftent  Notion  of  what  was  laudable  or 
lovely.  Otherwife  we  might  chance  to  do 
God  little  Honour,  when  we  intended 
him  the  moft.  For  'tis  hard  to  imagine 
what  Honour  can   arife   to   the  Deity 


*  For  my  own  part,  fays  honeft  Plutarch,  I  had  ra- 
ther Men  fhou'd  fay  of  me,  "  That  there  neither  is,  nor  ever 
"  was  fuch  a  one  as  Plutarch  ;"  than  they  fhould  'ay, 
«*  There  was  a  Plutarch,  an  unfteddy,  changeable,  ta- 
*'  fily  provokable,  and  revengeful  Man ;  "A^QfAvarO"  «^e- 
**  CaiQ-,  £Uft^«tCoA^,eyp^6f««'fffoj  ofjhvj  fjJKio?^tJ'sr&,  &c." 
JP/utarch.  de Superltitione.     See  VOL.  ill.  p.  127. 

t  Vol.  III.  /.  37.   and  202,  203.   in  the  Notes. 

D  2  from 


4^  A  LETTER 

Sed:.  5.  from   the  Praifes  of  Creatures,    who  are 
i/VN-  unable  to  difcern  what  is  praife-worthy  or 
excellent  in  their  own  kind. 

If  a  Mufician  were  cry'd  up  to  the 
Skies  by  a  certain  Set  of  People  who  had 
no  Ear  in  Mufick,  he  wou'd  furcly  be  put 
to  the  blufli  J  and  cou'd  hardly,  with  a 
good  Countenance,  accept  the  Benevo- 
lence of  his  Auditors,  till  they  had  ac- 
quir'd  a  more  competent  Apprehenfion  of 
him,  and  cou'd  by  their  own  Senfes  find 
out  fomething  really  good  in  his  Perfor- 
mance. Till  this  were  brought  about, 
there  wou'd  be  little  Glory  in  the  cafe; 
and  the  Mufician,  tho  ever  fo  vain,  wou'd 
have  little  reafon  to  be  contented. 

They  who  affedl  Praife  the  moft,  had 
rather  not  be  taken  notice  of,  than  be  im- 
pertinently applauded.  .1  know  not  how 
it  comes  about,  that  H  e  who  is  ever  faid 
to  do  Good  the  moft  difintereftedly,  fhou'd 
be  thought  delirous  of  being  prais'd  fo 
lavifhly,  snd  be  fuppos'd  to  fet  fo  high 
a  Rate  upon  fo  cheap  and  low  a  Thing, 
'  '  as  ignorant  Commendation  and  forc'd  Jp- 
plaufe. 

'Tis    not  the   fame   with    Goodnefs  as 

'with   other  Qualitys,   which  we  may  un- 

derftand  very   well,    and   yet    not    poflefs. 

We  may  have  an  excellent  Ear  in  Mufick^ 

k    .•  with- 


concerning  Enthusiasm:  42 

without  being  able  to  perform  in  anySeft.  6. 
kind.  We  may  judg  well  of  Poetry,  with-  (•VN; 
out  being  Poets,  or  pofleffing  the  leaft  of 
a  Poetick  Vein  :  But  we  can  have  no  to- 
lerable Notion  of  Goodnefs,  without  being 
tolerably  good.  So  that  if  the  Praife  of  a 
Divine  Being  be  fo  great  a  part  of  his  Wor- 
ship, we  fhbu'd,  methinks,  learn  GoodnefSj 
were  it  for  nothing  elfe  than  that  we  might 
learn,  in  fome  tolerable  manner,  how  to 
praife.  For  the  praife  of  Goodnefs  from  an 
unfound  hollow  Heart,  muft  certainly  make 
the  greateft  DifTonance  in  the  world. 

SECT.    VI. 

OTHER  Reafons,  my  Lord,  there 
are,  why  this  plain  home-fpun  Phi- 
lofophy,  of  looking  into  our-felves,  may 
do  us  wondrous  fervice,  in  rectifying  our 
Errors  in  Religion.  For  there  is  a  fort  of 
Enthufiafm  of  fecond  hand.  And  when 
Men  find  no  original  Commotions  in  them- 
felves,  no  prepoffeffing  Panick  which  be- 
witches 'em  ;  they  are  apt  ftill,  by  the 
Teftimony  of  others,  to  be  impos'd  on, 
and  led  creduloufly  into  the  Belief  of  ma- 
ny falfe  Miracles.  And  this  Habit  may 
make  'em  variable,  and  of  a  very  incon- 
ftant  Faith,  eafy  to  be  carry'd  away  with 
every  Wind  of  Dodrine,  and  addicted  to 
every  upftart  Se^fl  or  Superftition.  But  the 
knowledg  of  our  Paffions  in  their  very 
D  3  Seeds, 


44  A  LETTER 

Sed.  6.  Seeds,  the  meafuring  well  the  Growth  and 
^/VX^  Progrefs  of  Enthufiafm,  and  the  judging 
rightly  of  its  natural  Force,  and  what 
command  it  has  over  our  very  *  Senfes, 
may  teach  us  to  oppofe  more  fuccefsfully 
thofe  Delufions  which  come  arm'd  with  the 
fpecious  Pretext  of  moral  Certainty,  and 
Matter  ofFadi. 

The  new  prophefying  Se(5t,  I  made 
mention  of  above,  pretend,  it  feems,  a- 
mong  many  other  Miracles,  to  have  had  a 
moft  fignal  one,  a(5led  premeditately,  and 
with  warning,  before  many  hundreds  of 
People,  who  adually  give  Teftimony  to 
the  Truth  of  it.  But  I  wou'd  only  afk. 
Whether  there  were  prefent,  among  thofe 
hundreds,  any  one  Perfon,  who  having 
never  been  of  their  ^eB^  or  addi(5led  to 
their  Way,  will  give  the  fame  Teftimony 
with  them  ?  I  muft  not  be  contented  to 
afk.  Whether  fuch  a  one  had  been  wholly 
free  of  that  particular  Enthufiafm  ?  but, 
Whether,  before  that  time,  he  was  efteem'd 
of  fo  found  a  Judgment,  and  clear  a  Head, 
as  to  be  wholly  free  of  Melancholy^  and 
in  all  likelihood  incapable  of  all  Enthu- 
fiafm befides?  For  otherwife,  the  Panick 
may  have  been  caught  j  the  Evidence  of 
the  Senfes  loft,  as  in  a  Dream  ;  and  the 
Imagination  fo  inflam'd,  as  in  a  moment  to 

•  VOL.  III.  /.  39,  40.  &  66,  6-],  68. 

have 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  45 

have  burnt  up  every  Particle  of  Judgment  Se<5t.  6. 
and  Reafon.  The  combuftible  Matters  lie  '>^^v^^. 
prepar'd  within,  and  ready  to  take  fire  at 
a  Spark ;  but  chiefly  in  a  *  Multitude  feiz'd 
with  the  fame  Spirit.  No  wonder  if  the 
Blaze  rifes  fo  of  a  fudden  ;  when  innume- 
rable Eyes  glow  with  the  PafTion,  and 
heaving  Breafts  are  labouring  with  Infpira- 
tion  :  when  not  the  Afpedt  only,  but  the 
very  Breath  and  Exhalations  of  Men  are 
infediious,  and  the  infpiring  Difeafc  im- 
parts it-felf  by  infenfible  Tranfpiration. 
I  am  not  a  Divine  good  endugh  to  refolve 
what  Spirk  that  was  which  prov'd  fo 
catching  among  the  antient  Prophets,  that 
even  the  profane  -f-  S  a  u  l  was  taken  by  it. 
But  I  learn  from  Holy  Scripture,  that  there 
was  the  -j-  evil,  as  well  as  the  good  Spirit 
of  Prophecy.  And  I  find  by  prefent  Ex- 
perience, as  well  as  by  all  Hiflorys,  Sacred 
and  Profane,  that  the  Operation  of  this 
Spirit  is  every  where  the  fame,  as  to  the 
bodily  Organs, 

A  Gentleman  who  has  writ  lately 
in  defence  of  reviv'd  Prophecy,  and  has 
fince  fallen  himfelf  into  the  prophetick  Ex- 
tajysy  tells  us,  "  That  the  antient  Prophets 
"  had  the  Spirit  of  *G  o  d  upon  them  un- 
"  der  Extajy,   with  divers  ftrange  Geftures 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  6*.  in  the  Notes, 
f  See  I  Ki np  ch.  xxii.  ver.  20,  iffc.    z  Chron,  ch.xviii. 
ver.  19,  ^f.    And  VOL,  III. />.  116,  117. 

D  4  "of 


A  LETTERmo-^ 

Sed.  6."  of  Body  denominating  them  Madmenil 
t/VNJ"  (or  Enthuiiafts)  as  appears  evidently, 
^^  fays  he,  m  the  Inftances  of  Balaam, 
"Saul,  David,  EzEKiEL,  Daniel, 
"  &€,'*  And  he  proceeds  to  juftify  this 
by  the  Practice  of  the  Apoftohck  Times, 
and  by  the  Regulation  which  the  *  Apoftle 
himfelf  appHes  to  thefe  feemingly  irregu- 
lar Gifts,  io  frequent  and  ordinary  (as  our 
Author  pretends)  in  the  primitive  Church, 
on  the  firft  rife  and  fpreading  of  Chriftianity. 
But  I  leave  it  to  him  to  make  the  Refem- 
blance  as  well  as  he  can  between  his  own 
and  the  Apoftolick  way.  I  only  know, 
that  the  Symptoms  he  defcribes,  and  which 
himfelf  (poor  Gentleman  !)  labours  under, 
are  as  Heatkeiiijh  as  he  can  polTibly  pre- 
tend them  to  be  Chrifiian.  And  when  I 
faw  him  lately  under  an  Agitation  (as  they 
call  it)  uttering  Prophecy  in  a  pompous 
Latin  Style,  of  which,  out  of  his  Extafy, 
it  feems,  he  is  wholly  incapable;  it  brought 
into  my  mind  the  hatin  Poet's  Defcription 
of  the  Sibyl,  whofe  Agony  s  were  fo  per- 
fedlly  like  thefe. 

"I Siibitb  non  milt  us,  non  color  units, 

Non  ccmpta  manfere  coma  ;  fed  peSius  an-- 

helum, 
Mt  rabie  fera  cor  da  tument ;    majorque  'vi* 

deri 

•  1  Cor.  ch.  xiv.  f  Virg.  Mn.  lib.  6. 

i.  '*  jsfec 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  47 

Nee    mortale  Jbnans :    afflata    ejl   Numine  Sedl.  6. 
quando  L/VNJ 

'^am  propiore  Dei • 

And  again  prefently  after: 

■         Immanis  in  antro 


Bacchatur  Vates,  magnum  fi  peBore  pojjtt 
Excuffijfe  Deum  :  tanto  magis  Ilk  fatigat 
Os  rabidum,  fera  cor  da  domans,  F  i  n  G  i  t- 
QUE  Premendo. 

Which  is  the  very  Style  of  our  experienc'd 
Author.  "  For  the  Infpir'd  {fays  he)  un- 
*-  dergo  a  Probation,  wherein  the  Spirit, 
"  by  frequent  Agitations,  forms  the  Organs^ 
"  ordinarily  for  a  Month  or  two  before 
**  Utterance," 

The  Roman  Hiftorian,  fpeaking  of  a 
moft  horrible  Enthufiafm  which  broke  out 
in  Rome  long  before  his  days,  defcribes 
this  Spirit  of  Prophecy  j  Viros  velut  mente 
captd,  cum  jaSiatione  fanaticd  corporis  nja- 
ticinari.  Liv.  39.  The  deteftable  things 
which  are  further  related  of  thefe  Enthu- 
fiafts,  I  wou'd  not  willingly  tranfcribe  :  but 
the  Senate's  mild  Decree  in  fo  execrable  a 
Cafe,  I  can't  omit  copying  j  being  fatisfy'd, 
that  tho  your  Lordrfiip  has  read  it  before 
now,  you  can  read  it  again  and  again  with 
admiration :  In  reliquum  deinde  (fays  Livy) 
#S.  C.  cautum  eji^  &c.     *S/  quis  tale  jacrum 

Jblenne 


48  A  LETTER 

Se6t.  (y.folenne  &  necejfarium  duceret^  nee  fine  Re- 
W"^  ligione  &  Piaculo  fe  id  omittere  poffe  j  apud 
Pratorem  Urbanum  profiteretur :  Prator 
Senatum  confuleret.  Si  ei  permijfum  effefy 
cum  in  Senatu  centum  non  minus  ejjent,  ita 
id  facrum  faceret ;  dum  ne  plus  quinque 
facrificio  interejfent,  neu  qua  pecunia  commu^ 
nis,  neu  quis  Magijier  facrorum^  aut  Sacer^ 
dos  ejjet. 

So  ncceflary  it  is  to  give  way  to  this 
Diftemper  of  Enthufiafm,  that  even  that 
Philofopher  who  bent  the  whole  Force  of 
his  Philofophy  againft  Superftition,  appears 
to  have  left  room  for  vifionary  Fancy,  and 
to  have  indirectly  .tolerated  Enthufiafm. 
For  it  is  hard  to  imagine,  that  one  who 
had  fo  little  religious  Faith  as  Epicurus, 
fhou'd  have  fo  vulgar  a  Credulity,  as  to 
believe  thofe  accounts  of  Armys  and  Caftles 
in  the  Air,  and  fuch  vifionary  Phenomena, 
Yet  he  allows  them ;  and  then  thinks  to 
folve  'em  by  his  Effluvia^  and  Aerial  Look- 
ing-glafles,  and  I  know  not  what  other 
fluff :  which  his  Latin  Poet,  however,  fets 
off  beautifully,  as  he  does  all. 

*  Rerum  Simtdacra  vagari 

Multa,  modis  multis,   in  cunBas  U7idique 

,  parteis  

\    .    Tenuia,  qua  facile  inter  fe  junguntur  in 
I  %  aurisy 

1        *  Lucrct.  lib,  4. 

Oh'-oia 


concerning  Enthusiasm,  4p 

Obvia  cum   veniunty   ut  aranea   braSieaqiie^zd:.  6. 

mri  (/VNJ 

******************* 

****************** 

Ce?itauros  itaque^  ^  Scyllarum  Membra  vide- 

muSy 
Cerbereafque     canum    facieSy    Jimulacraque 

eorum 
Quorum  morte  obit  a  tellus  ampleBitur  offa : 
Omne  genus   quoniam  pajjim  Jimulacra  fe- 

runtur, 
Tartim  J'ponte  fud  qua  fiunt  aere  in  ipfo ; 
Partim  qua  variis  ab  rebus  cumq-j  recedunt. 

'TwAS  a  fign  this  Philofopher  believ'd 
there  was  a  good  Stock  of  Vifionary  Spirit 
originally  in  Human  Nature.  He  was  fo 
fatisfy'd  that  Men  were  inclin'd  to  fee 
Vilions,  that  rather  than  they  fhou'd  go 
without,  he  chofe  to  make  'em  to  their 
hand.  Notwithftanding  he  deny'd  the 
Principles  of  Religion  to  be  *  natural, 
he  was  forc'd  tacitly  to  allow  there  was 
a  wondrous  Difpofition  in  Mankind  to- 
wards fupernatural  ObjeSfs ;  and  that  if 
thefe  Ideas  were  vain,  they  were  yet  in  a 
ni^inwtv  innate,  or  fuch  as  Men  were  really 
born  to,  and  cou'd  hardly  by  any  means 
avoid.  From  which  Conceflion,  a  Divine, 
methinks,  might  raife  a  good  Argument 
againft  him,  for  the  'Truth  as  well  as  the 
Vjefulnejs  of  Religion.     But  fo  it  is ; 

*  Infra,  pag.  117. 

whether 


50  A  LETTER 

Sedt.  6.  whether  the  Matter  of  Apparition  be  true 
^•^^V^'^or  falfe,  the  Symptoms  are  the  fame,  and 
the  Paffion  of  equal  force  in  the  Perfon 
who  is  Vifion-ftruck.  The  Lymphatici  of 
the  Latins  were  the  Nympholepti  of  the 
Greeks.  They  were  Perfons  faid  to  have 
feen  fome  Species  of  Divinity,  as  either 
fome  rural  Deity y  or  Nymph ;  which  threw 
them  into  fuch  Tranfports  as  overcame 
their  Reafon.  The  Extafys  exprefs'd  them- 
felves  outwardly  in  Quakings,  Tremblings, 
Toffings  of  the  Head  and  Limbs,  Agita- 
tions ^  and  (as  Livy  calls  them)  Fanati- 
cal T'hrows  or  Convulfions,  extemporary 
Prayer,  Prophecy,  Singing,  and  the  like. 
All  Nations  have  their  Lymphaticks  of  fome 
kind  or  another  j  and  all  Churches,  Hea- 
then as  well  as  Chriftian,  have  had  their 
Complaints  againft  Fanaticifm, 

One  wou'd  think  the  Antients  ima- 
gin'd  this  Difeafe  had  fome  relation  to 
that  which  they  call'd  Hydrophoby.  Whe- 
ther the  antient  Lymphaticks  had  any  way 
like  that  of  biting,  to  communicate  the 
Rage  of  their  Diftemper,  I  can't  fo  pofi- 
tively  determine.  But  certain  Fanaticks 
there  have  been  fince  the  time  of  the  An- 
tients, who  have  had  a  moft  profperous 
Faculty  of  communicating  the  Appetite 
of  the  Teeth.  For  fmce  firft  the  fnappifli 
Spirit  got  up  in  Religion,  all  Seds  have 
been  at  it,  as  the  faying  is,  Tooth  and  Nail-, 
I  and 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  51 

and  are  never  better  pleas'd,  than  in  wor-Sed:.  6. 
rying  one  another  without  mercy.  (•VV) 

So  far  indeed  the  innocent  kind  of 
Fanaticifm  extends  it-felf,  that  when  the 
Party  is  ftruck  by  the  Apparition,  there 
follows  always  an  Itch  of  imparting  it, 
and  kindling  the  fame  Fire  in  other  Breafts. 
For  thus  Poets  are  Fanaticks  too.  And 
thus  Horace  either  is,  or  feigns  himfelf 
Lymphatick,  and  {hews  what  an  Effedt  the 
Vifion  of  the  Nymphs  and  Bacchus  had 
on  him. 

*  Bacchum  in  remotis  carmina  rupibus 

Vidi  docentem,  credite  pojieriy 

NTMPHASque  difcentes 

Kvce  I  recenti  mens  trepidat  metu^ 

Plenoque  Bacchi  peBore  turbidum 

t  LrMPHATUR —as 

Heirifius  reads. 

No  Poet  (as  I  ventur'd  to  fay  at  iirft 
to  your  Lordfliip)  can  do  any  thing  great 
in  his  own  way,  without  the  Imagination 
or  Suppofition  of  a  Divine  Prefence,  which 
may  raife  him  to  fome  degree  of  this  Paf- 
fion  we  are  fpeaking  of.     Even  the  cold 

*  Od.  19.  lib.  2. 

■\  So  again.  Sat.  5.  ^ver.  97.  Gnatia  Lymphis  Iratis  ex- 
JiruSla:  where  Horace  wittily  treats  the  People  oi  Gnatia 
as  Lymphaticks  and  Enthufialts,  for  believing  a  Miracle 
of  their  Priefts  :  Credat  Judaus  Apella.  Hor.  ibid.  See 
Heinsius  and  Torren  rius  ;  and  the  Quotation  in  the 
following  Notes,  xntb  rjiiv  Nv^^wj^,  &c. 

Lucre- 


51  ^LETTER  '' 

Sedt.  7. Lucretius  *  makes  ufe  of  Infpiratioit, 
^^^V^^  when  he  writes  againfl  it  j  and  is  forc*d 
to  raife  an  Apparition  of  Nature^  in  a  Di- 
vine Form,  to  animate  and  conduct  him  in 
his  very  Work  of  degrading  Nature,  and 
defpoiling  her  of  all  her  feeming  Wifdom 
and  Divinity. 

•f-  Alma  Venus,  coslt  fubter  lahentta  Jigna 
^ae  mare  navigerum^  qua  terras  frugi" 
ferenteis 

-'  Concelebras ■  {nas, 

^a  quoniam  rerum  naturam  fola  guber^ 
Nee  fine  te  quidquam  dias  in  luminis  or  as 
Exoritur,   neque  Jit  latum  neque  amabile 

quidquam : 
TV  fociam  Jiudeo  fcribundis  verjibus  ejfe^ 
^os  Ego  de  rerum  naturd  pangere  Conor 
MEMMiADiE  nojiro. 

SECT    YII. 

THE  only  thing,  my  Lord,  I  wou*d 
infer  from  all  this,  is,  that  Enthu- 
siasm is  wonderfully  powerful  and  ex- 
tenfive;  that  it  is  a  matter  of  nice  Judg- 
ment, and  the  hardeft  thing  in  the  world 
to  know  fully  and  diftincSlyj  Unce  even 
X  Atheijm  is  not  exempt  from  it.  For,  as 
fome  have  well  remark'd,  there  have  been 
.Enthiifiajiical  Atheijis,     Nor  can  Divine  In- 

^»  VOL.  III.  /.  32.  t  Lucret.  lib.  1. 

$  VOL. III. /.  63,64.     . 

-;:  .-i  -j  -'  •  ^  fpiration. 


¥ 


concerning  Enthusiasm.         jj 

fpiration,  by  its  outward  Marks,  be  eafilySedt.  7. 
diftinguifh'd  from  it.  For  Infpiration  isU/V^J 
a  real  feeling  of  the  Divine  Prefence,  and 
Enthufiafm  a  falfe  one.  But  the  Paffion 
they  raife  is  much  alike.  For  when  the 
Mind  is  taken  up  in  Vifion,  and  fixes  its 
view  either  on  any  real  Object,  or  mere 
Speder  of  Divinity  j  when  it  fees,  or 
thinks  it  fees  any  thing  prodigious,  and 
more  than  human ;  its  Horror,  Delight, 
Confufion,  Fear,  Admiration,  or  what- 
ever Paffion.  belongs  to  it,  or  is  uppermofl 
on  this  occafion,  w^ill  have  fomething  vaft, 
immane,  and  (as  Painters  fay)  beyond  Life, 
And  this  is  what,  gave  occafion  to  the  name 
oi  Fanaticifmy  as  it  was  us'd  by  the  An- 
tients  in  its  original  Senfe,  for  an  Appa- 
rition tranfporting  the  Mind. 

Something  there  will  be  of  Extra- 
vagance and  Fury,  when  the  Ideas  or  Ima- 
ges receiv'd  are  too  big  for  the  narrow 
human  Vefiel  to  contain.  So  that  Infpi- 
ration may  be  juilly  call'd  Divine  En- 
thusiasm: For  the  Word  it-felf  fignifies 
Divine  Prefence,  and  was  made  ufe  of  by 
the  Philofopher  whom  the  earlicft  Chriftian 
Fathers  call'd  Divine,  to  exprefs  whatever 
was  fublime  in  human  Pailions  *.  This 
,i  was 

eifu ToraZitt  fjikv  cot  )^  'in  THia  ^X"  ^l*'''**  yi^vo^ivus 

cLTo  ^i£v  KifeiV  ){0^.d  Ipya,  Sec.  Phaedr.     K««  ri(  'sriXfliKvi 
iX  »^5"*  TiiTVV  fcU^iV  «V  0«i»f  Tg  Sveu  j^  'EyQjJOT^^tlC.  Meno. 


,,}4         .K?    A  LETTER       , 

Sedt.  7.  was  the  Spirit  he  allotted  to  HeroeSy  Statef- 
C/'Wi  men^  Poets,  Orators,  Mujicians,  and  even 
Philojbphers  themfelves.  Nor  can  we,  of 
our  own  accord,  forbear  afcribing  to  a  *  no- 
ble Enthusiasm,  whatever  is  greatly 
perform'd  by  any  of  ITjefe.  So  that  al- 
moft  all  of  us  know  fomething  of  this 
Principle.  But  to  know  it  as  we  fliou'd  do, 
and  difcern  it  in  its  feveral  kinds,  both  in 
our-felves,  and  others ;  this  is  the  great 
Work,  and  by  this  means  alone  we  can 
hope  to  avoid  Delufion.  For  to  judg  the 
spirits  ^whether  they  are  of  God,  we  mufi: 
antecedently  judg  our  own  Spirit  j  whether 
it  be  of  Reafon  and  found  Senfe  j  whether 
it  be  fit  to  judg  at  all,  by  being  fedate, 
cool,  and  impartial ;  free  of  every  biafling 
Paffion,  every  giddy  Vapor,  or  melancholy 
Fume.  This  is  the  firft  Knowledg  and 
previous  Judgment :  "  To  underftand  our^ 
"  jehes,  and  know  what  Spirit  we  are  ofy 
Afterwards  we  may  judg  the  Spirit  in  others, 
eonfider  what  their  perfonal  Merit  is,  and 

<90tOtZV,  (*AAi  (pVtTet  wi  }(^  ^Ev^dOlel^^Ovjii  wV/Tif  0/  SnOfJUtV 
%f  )y  ^liwuafoi.  Apoi.  In  particular  as  to  Philojhphersy 
Plutarch  tells  us,  'twas  the  Complaint  of  fome  of  the 
four  old  Romans,  when  Learning  firlt  came  to  them  from 
Greece,  th.at  their  Youth  grew  Enthnjiajiick  with  Philofophy, 
Fcr  i'peaking  of  one  of  the  Philoiophers  of  the  Athenian 
Embaffy,  he  fays,  ^EpeSJa,  S'eiVlv  i[/.CiChtiH,i  Titf  vioit  yip'  » 
Tuv  AhKeov  iJhvav  >Cj  (ffetJeiCar  iKT^ffDvjii  ^Ev^uffjaai  'at§i 
(fihocnipictv.     Plut.   in  vit.  Cat.  Major. 

*  Of  this  Paffion,  in  the  nobler  and  higher  fenfe,  fee 
more,  VOL.  11.  ^.75,  76,  393,  394,  &c.  and  VOL.  III. 
/:  30'  33»  34.  37" 

V  ;   S     '  prove 


concerning  Enthusiasm.  jj 

prove  the  Validity  of  their  Teftimony  bySedt.  7. 
the  Solidity  of  their  Brain.  By  this  means  ^lOP^ 
we  may  prepare  our-felves  with  fome  y^«- 
tidote  againft  Enthufiafm.  And  this  is 
what  I  have  dar*d  affirm  is  befl  perform'd 
by  keeping  to  Good  Humour.  For 
otherwife  the  Remedy  it-felf  may  turn  to 
the  Difeafe. 

And  now,  my  Lord,  having,  after  all, 
in  fome  meafure  juftify'd  Enthusiasm, 
and  own'd  the  Word  j  if  I  appear  extrava- 
gant, in  addreffing  to  you  after  the  manner 
I  have  done,  you  muft  allow  me  to  plead 
an  Impulfe.  You  muft  fuppofe  me  (as 
with  truth  you  may)  moft  paffionately 
your's  ;  and  with  that  Kindnefs  which  is 
natural  to  you  on  other  occafions,  you 
muft  tolerate  your  Enthujiajlick  FrienJ, 
who,  excepting  only  in  the  cafe  of  this 
over-forward  Zeal,  muft  ever  appear,  with 
the  higheft  Refpe<i, 

My  Lord, 

Tour  LorJJJjifSy  Sec. 


Vol.  K  E  Trea- 


tt  }  r  ^  ••» 


K. 


:!■- 


>    I/O/     03 


ii;i,7   «5i;-  .  J  . 


I  ,1  :\  '.;  »-X 


^  -zM 


-A.:!  il  i 


.  '    .1^-;/ 


Treatise    II. 

r  I  z. 

Senfus  Communis: 

A  N 

E  S    SAY 

O  N    T  H  E 

FREEDOM 

O  F 

WITznd  HUMOUR, 

In  a  LETTER  to  a  Friend. 

-Hue  urget  LupuSy  hdc  Cams 


Hor.  Sat.  2.  Lib.  2. 


Printed  firft  in  the  Year  M.DCC.IX. 
E  z 


*  X  Js.. 


/i 


1 


;•:  v) 


(if:    et 


J  J   :^   ril 


:jua.r/i  i^.::  /  -^Ij  ''^  ^ 


;-i"l 


r         -!■ 


J9 


A  N 

E  S  S  A  Y,  £jf c. 


PART    I. 


r 


SECT.     I. 

IH  A  V  E  been  confidering  (my  Friend !) 
what  your  Fancy  was,  to  exprefs 
fuch  a  furprize  as  you  did  the  other 
day,  when  I  happened  to  fpeak  tq 
you  in  commendation  of  Raillery.  Was 
it  poffible  you  fhou'd  fuppofe  me  fo  grave 
a  Man,  as  to  diflike  all  Converfation  ©f 

yoi.  I.  j;e]  this 


4o         uin  ESSAY  on  the  Freedom 

Part  I. this  kind?    Or  were  you  afraid  I  fhou*d 
v.^Y"«w  not  ftand  the  trial,  if  you  put  me  to  it,  by 
making  the  experiment  in  my  own  Cafe  ? 

I  M  u  s  T  confefs,  you  had  reafon  enough 
for  your  Caution  j  if  you  cou'd  imagine 
me  at  the  bottom  fo  true  a  Zealot^  as  not 
to  bear  the  leaft  Raillery  on  my  own 
Opinions.  'Tis  the  Cafe,  I  know,  with 
many.  Whatever  they  think  grave  or  fo- 
lemn,  they  fuppofe  muft  never  be  treated 
out  of  a  grave  and  folemn  way :  Tho 
what  Another  thinks  fo,  they  can  be  con- 
tented to  treat  otherwife ;  and  are  forward 
to  try  the  Edge  of  Ridicule  againfl  any 
Opinions  befides  their  (mn» 

The  Queftion  is,  Whether  this  be  fair 
or  no  ?  and.  Whether  it  be  not  juft  and 
reafonable,  to  make  as  free  with  our  own 
Opinions,  as  with  thofe  of  other  People  t 
For  to  be  fparing  in  this  cafe,  may  be 
look'd  upon  as  a  piece  of  Selfifhnefs.  We 
may  be  charg'd  perhaps  with  wilful  Igno- 
rance and  blind  Idolatry,  for  having  taken 
Opinions  upon  Truft,  and  confecrated  in 
our-felves  certain  /^o/-Notions,  which  we 
will  never  fufFer  to  be  unveil'd,  or  {ttn 
in  open  light.  They  may  perhaps  be 
Monfters,  and  not  Divinitys,  or  Sacred 
Truths,  which  are  kept  thus  choicely,  in 
fome  dark  Corner  of  our  Minds:  The 
Spefters  may  impofe  on  us,  whilfl  we  re- 

fufe 


(?/ Wit  ^«/^  Humour.  ^i 

fufe  to  turn  *em  every  way,  and  view  their  Sedt.  r.' 
Shapes  and  Complexions  in  every  light.  ^i/'V^ 
For  that  which  can  be  ftiewn  only  in  a  cer^ 
tain  Light,  is  queftionable.  Truth,,  'tis 
fuppos'd,  may  bear  all  Lights :  and  07ie  of 
thofe  principal  Lights  or  natural  Mediums, 
by  which  Things  are  to  be  view'd,  in  or- 
der to  a  thorow  Recognition,  is  Ridicule 
it-lelf,  or  that  Manner  of  Proof  by  which 
we  difcern  whatever  is  liable  to  juft  Rail- 
lery in  any  Subjed:.  So  much,  at  leaft,  is 
allow'd  by  All,  who  at  any  time  appeal  to 
this  Criterion.  The  graveft  Gentlemen, 
even  in  the  graveft  Subjeds,  are  fuppos'd 
to  acknowledg  this :  and  can  have  no 
Right,  'tis  thought,  to  deny  others  the 
Freedom  of  this  Appeal ;  whilft  they  are 
free  to  cenfure  like  other  Men,  and  in  their 
graveft  Arguments  make  no  fcruple  to  afk. 
Is  it  not  Ridiculous  f 

O  F  this  Affair,  therefore,  I  defign  you 
ihou'd  know  fully  what  my  Sentiments 
are.  And  by  this  means  you  will  be  able 
to  judg  of  me ;  whether  I  was  fincere  the 
other  day  in  the  Defence  of  Raillery^  and 
can  continue  ftill  to  plead  for  thofe  inge- 
nious Friends  of  ours,  who  are  often  ccn- 
fur'd  for  their  Humour  of  this  kind,  and 
for  the  Freedom  they  take  in  fuch  an  airy 
way  of  Converfation  and  Writing. 

[E  2]  SECT. 


6i  jin  ESSAY  dn  the  Freisdom 

Part   I. 

^-^^^        ^       SECT.     It. 

IN  G  O  O  D  earneft,  when  one  Cbnfiders 
what  ufe  is  fometimes  made  of  this 
Species  of  Wit,  and  to  what  an  excefs  it 
has  rifen  of  late,  in  fdme  Characters  of 
the  Age  ;  one  may  be  ftartled  a  little,  and 
in  doubt,  what  to  think  of  the  Pradtice,  or 
whither  this  rallying  Humour  will  at  length 
Carry  us.  It  has  pafs'd  from  the  Men  of 
Pleafure  to  the  Men  of  Bulinefs.  Politi- 
cians have  been  infedted  with  it :  and  the 
grave  Affairs  of  State  have  been  treated 
with  an  Air  of  Irony  and  Banter.  The 
ableft  Negotiators  have  been  known  the 
notableft  Buffoons :  the  moft  celebrated  Au- 
thors, the  greateil  Mafters  of  Burlefque. 

There  is  indeed  a  kind  of  defenflvg 
Raillery  (if  I  may  fo  call  it)  which  I  am 
willing  enough  to  allow  in  Affairs  of  what- 
ever kind ;  when  the  Spirit  of  Curiofity 
wou'd  force  a  Difcovery  of  more  Truth 
than  can  conveniently  be  told.  For  we 
can  never  do  more  Injury  to  Truth,  than 
by  difcovering  too  much  of  it,  on  fome 
occafions.  'Tis  the  fame  with  Under- 
ftandings  as  with  Eyes :  To  fuch  a  cer- 
tain Size  and  Make  jufl  fo  much  Light  is 
.neceffary,  and  no  more.  Whatever  is  be- 
yond, brings  Darknefs  and  Confufion. 

'Tis 


of  Wit  ani  HumbuS  iJj 

Sedt.  2. 
'Tis  real  Humanity  and  Kindrteis,  toO'^VN^ 
hide  ftrong  Truths  from  tender  Eyes. 
And  to  do  this  by  a  pleafant  Amufemeht^ 
is  eafier  and  civiller,  than  by  a  harfh  De* 
iiid,  or  remarkable  Referve.  But  to  go 
Hbbut  induftrioufly  to  confound  Men,  in 
a  myfterious  manner,  and  to  make  ad- 
vantage or  draw  pleafure  from  that  Per- 
plexity they  are  thrown  into,  by  fuch  un- 
certain Talk;  is  as  unhandfom  in  a  way 
of  Raillery,  as  when  done  with  the  great- 
eft  Serioufnefs,  or  in  the  moft  folemn  way 
of  Deceit.  It  may  be  neceflary,  as  well 
how  as  heretofore,  for  wife  Men  to  fpeak 
in  ParableSy  and  with  a  dopble  Meaning, 
that  the  Enemy  may  be  amus'd,  and  they 
only  who  have  Ears  to  hear,  may  hear. 
But  *tis  certainly  a  mean,  impotent,  and 
dull  fort  of  Wit,  which  amufes  all  alike, 
and  leaves  the  moft  fenfible  Man,  and  even 
a  Friend,  equally  in  doubt,  and  at  a  lofs 
to  underftand  what  one's  real  Mind  is,  up- 
on any  Subjed. 

This  is  that  grofs  fort  of  Raillery^ 
which  is  fo  offenfive  in  good  Company, 
And  indeed  there  is  as  much  difference 
between  one  fort  and  another,  as  betweeri 
Fair-dealing  and  Hypocrify ;  or  between 
the  genteeleft  Wit,  and  the  moft  fcurrilous 
Buffoonery.  But  by  Freedom  of  Conver- 
sation this  illiberal  kind  of  Wit  will  lofe 
E  3  its 


(^4         ^w  E s 3 AX  on  the  Freedom 

Part  x.its  Credit.     For  Wit  is  its  own  Remedy. 

vv^w/  Liberty  and  Commerce  bring  it  to  its  true 
Standard.  The  only  danger  is,  the  laying 
an  Embargo.  The  fame  thing  happens 
here,  as  in  the  Cafe  of  Trade.  Impolitions 
^nd  Reflri<5li9ns  reduce  it  to  a  low  Ebb: 
Nothing  is  fo  advantageous  to  it  as  a 
JFree-Pqrtj   , 

"W'E  have  feen  in  our  own  time  the 
Decline  and  Ruin  of  a  falfe  fort  of  Wit, 
which  fo  much  delighted  our  Anceftors, 
that  their  Poems  and  Plays,  as  well  as 
Sermons,  were  full  of  it.  All  Humour 
had  fomething  of  the  ^ibble.  The  very 
Language  of  the  Court  was  Punning.  But 
'tis  now  banifli'd  the  Town,  and  all  good 
Company :  There  are  only  fome  few 
Footfteps  of  it  in  ,the  Country;  and  Jt 
feems  at  lafl  confin'd  to  the  Nurferys  of 
Youth,  as  the  chief  Entertainment  of  Pe- 
dants and  their  Pupils.  And  thus  in  o* 
ther  refpe(3:s  IVit  will  mend  upon  our 
hands,  and  Hutnour  will  refine  it-felf  j  if 
we  take  care  not  to  tamper  with  it,  and 
bring  it  under  Conftraint,  by  fevere  Ufage 
and  rigorous  Prefcriptions.  AH  Politenefs 
is  owing  to  Liberty.  We  poli(h  one  ano^ 
ther,  and  rub  off  our  Corners  and  rough 
Sides  by  a  fort  of  amicable  Collijion,  To 
reftrain  this,  is  inevitably  to  bring  a  Ruft 
*  upon  Mens  Underflandings.  'Tis  a  de- 
stroying of  "pivility,  Good  Breeding,  and 
r    >A  pven 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  <Jj 

even  Charity  it-felf,  under  pretence  of  main-Sed.  3, 
taining  it.  v^-\pN^ 

SECT.     III. 

TO  defcribe  true  Raillery  wou'd  be  as 
hard  a  matter,  and  perhaps  as  little 
to  the  purpofe,  as  to  define  Good  Breeding. 
None  can  underfland  the  Speculation,  be- 
fides   thofe   who  have   the  Pradice.     Yet 
every-one    thinks    himfelf  well-bred:    and 
the  formalleft  Pedant  imagines  he  can  railly 
with  a  good  Grace  and  Humour.     I  have 
known    fome    of   thofe   grave   Gentlemen 
undertake  to  corred  an  Author  for  de- 
fending the  Ufe  of  Raillery,  who  at  the 
fame  time  have  upon  every  turn  made  ufe 
of  that  Weapon,  tho  they  were  naturally 
fo  very  aukard  at  it.     And  this  I  believe 
may  be  obferv'd  in  the  Cafe  of  many  Zea- 
lots, who  have  taken  upon  'em  to  anfwer 
our  modern  Free- Writers.     The  Tragical 
Gentlemen,    with    the    grim   Afpe6t   and 
Mein  of  true  Inquijitors,   have  but  an  ill 
Grace  when  they  vouchfafe  to  quit  their 
Aufterity,    and    be    jocofe    and    pleafant 
with    an   Adverfary,    whom    they    wou'd 
chufe  to  treat  in  a  very  different  manner. 
For  to  do  'em  Juftice,  had  they  their  Wills, 
I  doubt  not  but  their  Condud:  and  Mein 
wou'd  be  pretty  much  of  a-piece.     They 
wou'd,  in  all   probability,   foon  quit  their 
Farce,  and  make  a  thorow  Tragedy.    But 
E  4  at 


46        jin  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  I*  at  prcfent  there  is  nothing  fo  ridiculous  as 
v^v^  this  J  A  N  u  s-Face  of  Writers,  who  with 
one  Countenance  force  a  Smile,  and  with 
another  fhow  nothing  bcfidc  Rage  and  Fu- 
ry. Having  entered  the  Lifts,  and  agreed 
to  the  fair  Laws  of  Combat  by  Wit  and  Ar- 
gument, they  have  no  fooner  prov'd  their 
Weapon,  than  you  liear  'em  crying  aloud 
for  help,  and  delivering  over  to  the  Secu^ 
lar  Arm. 

There  can't  be  a  more  prcpofterous 
Sight  than  an  Executioner  and  a  Merry^ 
Andrew  adting  their  Part  upon  the  fame 
Stage.  Yet  I  am  perfuadcd  any-one  will 
find  this  to  be  the  real  Picture  of  certain 
modern  Zealots  in  their  Controverfial  Wri^ 
lings.  They  are  no  more  Mafters  of  Gra^ 
vity,  than  they  are  of  Good  Humour, 
The  firft  always  runs  into  harfti  Severity, 
and  the  latter  into  an  aukard  Buffoonery. 
And  thus  between  Anger  and  Pleafure, 
Zeal  and  Drollery,  their  Writing  has  much 
fuch  a  Grace  as  the  Play  of  humourfom 
Children,  who,  at  the  fame  inftanr,  arc 
both  peevifh  and  wanton,  and  can  laugh 
and  cry  almoll:  in  one  and  the  fame  breath, 

How  agreeable  fuch  Writings  are  like 
to  prove,  and  of  what  effed:  towards  the 
winning  over  or  convincing  thofe  who  arc 
fuppos'd  to  be  in  Error,  I  need  not  go 
gbput  to  explain,  Nor  can  I  wonder,  on 
-i  this 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  67 

Ais  account,  to  hear  thofe  publick  La-Se6t.  3, 
mentations  of  Zealots,  that  whilft  the^^'^VNi* 
Books  of  their  Advcrfarys  are  fo  current, 
their  Anfwers  to  'em  can  hardly  make 
their  way  into  the  World,  or  be  taken 
the  leaft  notice  of.  Pedantry  and  Bigotry 
are  Mill-ftones  able  to  fink  the  beft  Book, 
which  carries  the  leaft  part  of  their  dead 
weight.  The  Temper  of  the  Pedagogue 
futes  not  with  the  Age.  And  the  World, 
however  it  may  be  taught,  will  not  be  /«- 
tor'd.  If  a  Philofopher  fpeaks.  Men  hear 
him  willingly,  while  he  keeps  to  his  Phi- 
lofophy.  So  is  a  Chriftian  heard,  while 
he  keeps  to  his  profefs'd  Charity  and 
Meeknefs.  In  a  Gentleman  we  allow  of 
Pleafantry  and  Raillery,  as  being  manag'd 
always  with  good  Breeding,  and  never 
grofs  or  clownifh.  But  if  a  mere  Scho« 
laftick,  intrenching  upon  all  thefe  Cha- 
radters,  and  writing  as  it  were  by  Starts 
and  Rebounds  from  one  of  thefe  to  ano- 
ther, appears  upon  the  whole  as  little  able 
to  keep  the  Temper  of  ChrilUanity,  as  to 
ufe  the  Reafon  of  a  Philofopher,  or  the 
Raillery  of  a  Man  of  Breeding ;  what 
wonder  is  it,  if  the  monftrous  Produd:  of 
fuch  a  jumbled  Brain  be  ridiculous  to  the 
World  ? 

f 

I F    you   think    (my  Friend !)    that  by 

this    Defcription   I   have    done    wrong   to 

thefe  Zealot-Writcfs  in  religious  Contro- 

verfy  > 


6i        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  i.verfy  j  read  only  a  few  Pages  in  any  one 
t/V^  of  'em,   (even   where  the  Conteft    is  not 

Abroad,   but  within  their  own  Pale]  an4 

then  pronounce. 

'v^v;^.cib.L.s  E  C'T:  IV.   ■ 

BU  T  now  that  I  have  faid  thus  much 
concerning  Authors  and  Writings^ 
you  (hall  hear  my  Thoughts,  as  you  have 
defir'd,  upon  the  Subject  of  Conver/afion, 
and  particularly  a  late  One  of  a  free  kind, 
which  you  remember  I  was  prefent  at, 
with  fome  Friends  of  yours,  whom  you 
fanfy'd  I  fhou'd  in  great  Gravity  have 
condemn'd.  /  nirrnaii/isU  li  i. 

'TwAS,  I  muft  own,  a  very  diverting 
one,  and  perhaps  not  the  lefs  fo,  for  end- 
ing as  abruptly  as  it  did,  and  in  fuch  a 
fort  of  Confufion,  as  almoft  brought  to 
nothing  whatever  had  been  advanc'd  in 
the  Difcourfc  before.  Some  Particulars  of 
this  Converfation  may  not  perhaps  be  fo 
proper  to  commit  to  Paper.  'Tis  enough 
that  I  put  you  in  mind  of  the  Converr- 
fation  in  -  general.  A  great  many  fine 
Schemes,  'tis  true,  were  deftroy'd ;  many 
grave  Reafonings  overturn'd :  but  this  be- 
ing done  without  offence  to  the  Pattys 
concern'd,  and  with  improvement  to  the 
.  good  Humour  of  the  Company,  it  fet  the 
Appetite  the  keener  to  fuch  Converfations. 
.       ..  And 


of  Wit  and  Humouij.  t»K         ^9 

And  I  am  perfuaded,  that  had  Reafon  her-  S.e<ft.  4. 
felf  been  to  judg  of  her  own  Intereft,  fheU^YVJ 
wou'd  have  thought  fhe  receiv'd  more  ad- 
vantage in  the  main  from  that  eafy  and  fa^ 
miliar  way,  than  from  the  ufual  ftiff  Adhe- 
rence to  a  particular  Opinion. 

But  perhaps  you  may  ftill  be  in  the 
fame  humour  of  not  believing  me  in  ear- 
neft.  You  may  continue  to  tell  me,  I 
affed  to  be  paradoxical,  in  commending  a 
Converfation  as  advantageous  to  Reafon, 
which  ended  in  fuch  a  total  Uncertainty 
of  what  Reafon  had  feemingly  fo.  well 
eflablifh'd.     h^vrrrt    or  vtno    •'•   :;^::   uvJa 

To  this  I  anfwer.  That  according  to 
the  Notion  I  have  of  Reafon,  neither  the 
written  Treatifes  of  the  Learned,  nor  the 
fet  Difcourfes  of  the  Eloquent,  arc  able  of 
themfelves  to  teach  the  ufe  of  it.  'Tis 
the  Habit  alone  of  Reafoning,  which  can 
make  a  Reafoner.  And  Men  can  never  be 
better  invited  to  the  Habit,  than  when 
they  find  Pleafure  in  it.  A  Freedom  of 
Raillery,  a  Liberty  in  decent  Language 
to  queftion  every  thing,  and  an  Allowance 
,  of  unravelling  or  refuting  any  Argument, 
(  without  offence  to  the  Arguer,  are  the 
pnly  Terms  which  can  render  fuch  fpecu- 
lative  Converfations  any  way  agreeable. 
For  to  fay  truth,  they  have  been  render'd 
burdenfom  to  Mankind  by  the  Stridtnefs 

of 


TO        [An  E8$ At  on  the  Freedom 

Part   I.  of  the  Laws  prefcrib'd  to  *em,  and  by  th* 
.v^V^w  prevailing  Pedantry  and  Bigotry  of  thofe 
who  peign  in  *em,  and  afllime  to  themselves 
to  be  Di<ftators  in  thefc  Provinces. 

*  Semper  ego  Auditor  tmtum !  is  t* 
natural  a  Cafe  of  Complaint  in  Divinity, 
in  Morals,  and  in  Philofophy,  as  it  Was  of 
old,  the  Satirifi*s,  in  Poetry.  Vkiffttude  is 
it  mighty  Law  of  Difcourfe,  and  mighti- 
ly long'd  for  by  Mankind.  In  matter  of 
Reafon,  more  is  done  in  a  minute  Of  two, 
by  way  of  Queftion  and  Reply,  than  by  a 
continued  Difcourfe  of  whole  Hours.  Ora^ 
iions  are  fit  only  to  move  the  Paflions  t 
And  the  Power  of  Declamation  is  to  ter- 
rify, exalt,  ravifh,  or  delight,  rather  than 
fatisfy  or  inftrudl.  A  free  Conference  is  ^ 
clofe  Fight.  The  other  way,  in  compari- 
fon  to  it,  is  merely  a  Brandifhing,  or  Beat* 
ing  the  Air,  To  be  obftrudted  therefore 
and  manacled  in  Conferences,  and  to  be 
confin'd  to  hear  Orations  On  certain  Sub- 
jefts,  muft  needs  give  us  a  Diftafte,  and 
fender  the  Subjects  fo  manag'd,  as  difagree- 
able  as  the  Managers.  Men  had  father 
reafon  upon  Trifles,  fo  they  may  reafon 
freely,  and  without  the  Impofition  of  Au- 
thority, than  on  the  ufefulleft  and  beft 
Subjects  in  the  world,  where  they  are 
held  under  a  Reflraint  and  Fear. 

•  Juv,  Sat.  I. 

'■-'  Nor 


of  Wit  <?»^  Humour.  7t' 

N  p  R  is  it  a  wonder  that  Men  are  ge-'^^VN* 
nerally  fuch  faint  Reafoners,  and  care  fb 
little  to  argue  ftri<5tly  on  any  trivial  Sul>- 
]e<ft  in  Company ;  when  they  dare  fo  little 
exert  their  Reafon  in  greater  matters,  and 
are  forc'd  to  argue  lamely,  where  they 
have  need  of  the  greateft  Adivity  and 
Strength.  The  fame  thing  therefore  hap- 
pens here  as  in  ftrong  and  healthy  Bo* 
dys,  which  are  debar'd  their  natural  Ex* 
ercife,  and  confin'd  in  a  narrow  Space. 
They  are  forc'd  to  uie  odd  Geftures  and 
Contortions.  They  have  a  fort  of  Action, 
and  move  ftill,  tho  with  the  worft  Grace 
imaginable.  For  the  animal  Spirits  in  fuch 
found  and  adtive  Limbs  cannot  lie  dead, 
or  without  Employment.  And  thus  the 
natural  free  Spirits  of  ingenioua  Men,  if 
imprifon'd  and  controul'd,  will  find  out 
other  ways  of  Motion  to  relieve  ihena- 
(elves  in  their  Conjiraint :  and  whether  it 
be  in  Burlefque,  Mimickry  or  Buffoonery, 
they  will  be  glad  at  any  rate  to  v-ent 
themfelves,  and  be  reveng'd  on  their  Con.- 
Jirainers, 

\  F  Men  are  forbid  to  fpeak  their  minda 
feriouHy  on  certain.  S.ubjeds,  they  will  da 
it,  ironically^  If  they  ara  forbid  to  fpestk 
at  all  upon,  fuch  Subjeds^.  pr  if  they  find 
it  really  dangeroust  to  do  fb. ;  they  will 
then,  redouble  their.  Difguife^  involve  therar 
3  felvcs 


;^2        An  Essay  o»  the  Freedom 

Part  i.felves  in  Myfterioufnefs,  and  talk  fo  as 
^/V"^  hardly  to  be  underftood,  or  at  leafl  not 
plainly  interpreted,  by  thofe  who  are  dif- 
pos'd  to  do  *eni  a  mifchief.  And  thus 
Raillery  is  brought  more  in  fafhion,  artd 
runs  into  an  Extreme.  'Tis  the  perfecu- 
ting  Spirit  has  rais'd  the  bantering  one : 
And  want  of  Liberty  may  account  for 
want  of  a  true  Politenefs,  and  for  the  Cor- 
ruption or  wrong  Ufe  of  Pleafantry  and 
Humour. 

If  in  this  refpedt  we  drain  the  juft  mea- 
fure  of  what  we  call  Urbanity y  and  are  apt 
fometimes  to  take  a  Buffooning  Ruftick 
Air,  we  may  thank  the  ridiculous  Solem- 
nity and  four  Humour  of  our  Pedagogues : 
or  rather,  they  may  thank  themfelves,  if 
they  in  particular  meet  with  the  heaviefl 
of  this  kind  of  Treatment.  For  it  will  na- 
turally fall  heavicft,  where  the  Conftraint 
has  been  the  fevereft.  The  greater  the 
Weight  is,  the  bitterer  will  be  the  Satir. 
The  higher  the  Slavery,  the  more  exquifite 
the  Buffoonery. 

That  this  is  really  fo,  may  appear 
by  looking  on  thofe  Countrys  where  the 
fpiritual  Tyranny  is  higheft.  For  the 
greateft  of  Buffoons  are  the  Italians: 
and  in  their  Writings,  in  their  freer  fort 
of  Converfations,  on  their  Theatres,  and 
in  their  Streets,  Buffoonery  and  Burlefque 
:-j.vivi  .  are 


'     of  Wit  and  Hutnouf.  T^j 

ariB  in  the  higheft  vogue.  'Tis  the  on-Seft.  ^.' 
ly  manner  in  which  the  poor  cramp'd  (•V^ 
Wretches  can  difcharge  a  free  Thought. 
We  muft  yield  to  'em  the  Superiority  in 
this  fort  of  Wit.  For  what  wonder  is  it 
if  wCj  who  have  more  of  Liberty,  have 
lefs  Dexterity  in  that  egregious  way  of 
Raillery  and  Ridicule  ? 

SECT.    V. 

'"  I  ^IS  for  this  reafon,  I  verily  believe, 
J^  that  the  Antients  difcover  fo  little 
of  this  Spirit,  and  that  there  is  hardly  fuch 
a  thing  found  as  mere  Burlefque  in  any 
Authors  of  the  politer  Ages.  The  man- 
ner indeed  in  which  they  treated  the  very 
graveft  Subjeds,  was  fomewhat  different 
from  that  of  our  days.  Their  Treatifes 
were  generally  in  a  free  and  familiar  Style. 
They  chofe  to  give  us  the  Reprefentation 
of  real  Difcourfe  and  Converfe,  by  treat- 
ing their  Subjects  in  the  way  of  *  Dialogue 
and  free  Debate.  The  Scene  was  common- 
ly laid  at  Table,  or  in  the  publick  Walks  or 
Meeting-places ;  and  the  ufual  Wit  and 
Humour  of  their  real  Difcourfes  appear'd 
in  thofe  of  their  own  compofmg.  And 
this  was  fair.  For  without  Wit  and  Hu- 
mour, Reafon  can  hardly  have  its  proof, 
or  be  diftinguifh'd.     The  Magifterial  Voice 

•  See  the  following  Treatife,  viz.  SoUhqay,  Part  I.  Seft.  3. 

and 


74*        ^'^  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  I.  and  high  Strain  of  the  Pedagogue,  com-^ 
>»^V^^  mands  Reverence  and  Awe.  'Tis  of  ad- 
mirable ufe  to  keep  Undcrftandings  at  a  dif- 
tance,  and  out  of  reach.  The  other  Man- 
ner, on  the  contrary,  gives  the  faireft  hold, 
and  fuffers  an  Antagonift  to  ufe  his  full 
Strength  hand  to  hand,  upon  even  ground. 

*Tis  not  to  be  imagined  what  advan- 
tage the  Reader  has,  when  he  can  thus 
cope  with  his  Author,  who  is  willing  to 
come  on  a  fair  Stage  with  him,  and  ex- 
change the  Tragick  Bufkin  for  an  eafier 
and  more  natural  Gate  and  Habit.  Gri-, 
mace  and  Tone  are  mighty  Helps  to  Im- 
pofture.  And  many  a  formal  Piece  of 
Sophiftry  holds  proof  under  a  fevere  Brow, 
which  wou'd  not  pafs  under  an  eafy  one. 
'Twas  the  Saying  of  *  an  anticnt  Sage, 
*'  That  Humour  was  the  only  Teft  of  Gra- 
"  vity ;  and  Gravity,  of  Humour.  For 
^*  a  Subjcd  which  wou'd  not  bear  Raillery, 
"  was  fufpicious ;  and  a  Jeft  which  wou'd 
"  not  bear  a  ferious  Examination,  was  cer- 
*^  uinty  JWft  WV 

But  fome  Gentlemen  there  are  fo  full 
of  the  Spirit  of  Bigotry^  and  falfe  Zeal^ 
that  when  they  hear  Principles  examin'd, 
Sciences  and  Arts  inquir'd  into,  and  Mat- 

*  GonoiAS  Leomtinus,  opudAritt. Rhettr.  hb.  3. 
cap.  1 8.  lifv  ^ir  fftfvi'tiv  J^ietji^^feiv  ykhuri,  rlv  Ji  y^heTo. 
CTs/j  }  which  the  Tranflator  renders,  Seria  RiJUt  Ri/um  Se- 
rirs  aifcnt»re. 

h:  tcrs 


'      of  Wit  and  Humour.  7j 

ters  of  Importance  treated  with  this  frank- Sedt.  5. 
nefs  of  Humour,  they  imagine  prefently  ^^^v^^ 
that  all  Profeffions  muft  fall  to  the  ground, 
all  Eftablifhments  come  to  ruin,  and  no- 
thing orderly  or  decent  be  left  ftanding  in 
the  world.  They  fear,  or  pretend  to  fear, 
that  Religion  it-felf  will  be  endanger'd  by 
this  free  way  j  and  are  therefore  as  much 
alarm'd  at  this  Liberty  in  private  Conver- 
fatlon,  and  under  prudent  Management, 
as  if  it  were  grofly  us'd  in  publick  Com- 
pany, or  before  the  folemnefi;  AfTembly. 
But  the  Cafe,  as  I  apprehend  it,  is  far  dif- 
ferent. For  you  are  to  remember  (my 
Friend !)  that  I  am  writing  to  you  in  de- 
fence only  of  the  Liberty  of  the  Clubj  and 
of  that  fort  of  Freedom  which  is  taken 
amongft  Gentlemen  and  Friends^  who  know 
one  another  perfectly  well.  And  that  'tis 
natural  for  me  to  defend  Liberty  with  this 
reftridtion,  you  may  infer  from  the  very 
Notion  I  have  of  Liberty  it-felf. 

'T I  s  furely  a  Violation  of  the  Freedom 
of  publick  Aflemblys,  for  any  one  to  take 
the  Chair,  who  is  neither  call'd  nor  invited 
to  it.  To  ftart  Queftions,  or  manage  De- 
bates, which  offend  the  publick  Ear,  is  to 
be  wanting  in  that  Refped:  which  is  due  to 
common  Society.  Such  Subjects  fhou'd 
either  not  be  treated  at  all  in  publick,  or  in 
fuch  a  manner  as  to  occafion  no  Scandal  or 
Piilurbance.  The  Publick  is  not,  on  any 
/    Vol.  J,  F  account, 


y6        Jn  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  I. account,  to  be  laugh'd  at,  to  its  face;  or  fo 
l/VX;  reprehended  for  its  Follys,  as  to  make  it 
think  it-felf  contemned.  And  what  is  con- 
trary to  good  Breeding,  is  in  this  refped:  as 
contrary  to  Liberty.  It  belongs  to  Men 
of  flavifli  Principles,  to  affedt  a  Superiori- 
ty over  the  Vulgar ^  and  to  defpife  the  MuU 
titude.  The  Lovers  of  Mankind  refpe<fl 
and  honour  Conventions  and  Societys  of 
Men.  And  in  mix'd  Company,  and  Pla- 
ces where  Men  are  met  promifcuoully  on 
account  of  Diverfion  or  Affairs,  *tis  an 
Impofition  and  Hardfhip  to  force  'em  to 
hear  what  they  diflike,  and  to  treat  of 
Matters  in  a  Dialed,  which  many  who 
are  prefent  have  perhaps  been  never  us'd 
to.  'Tis  a  breach  of  the  Harmony  of  pub* 
lick  Converfation,  to  take  things  in  fuch 
a  Key,  as  is  above  the  common  Reach, 
puts  others  to  filence,  and  robs  them  of 
their  Privilege  of  Turn,  But  as  to  private 
Society,  and  what  pafles  in  feledt  Compa- 
nys,  where  Friends  meet  knowingly,  and 
with  that  very  defign  of  exercifing  their 
Wit,  and  looking  freely  into  all  Subjeds; 
1  fee  no  pretence  for  any  one  to  be  of« 
fended  at  the  way  of  Raillery  and  Humour, 
which  is  the  very  Life  of  fuch  Converfa- 
tions;  the  only  thing  which  makes  good 
Company,  and  frees  it  from  the  Formality 
of  Bufinefs,  and  the  Tutorage  and  Dogma- 
ticainefs  of  the  Schools, 

SECT. 


ef  Wit  an^  Humouf;  77 

Sea  6. 

SECT.     VI.  "-"^"^ 

TO  return  therefore  to  our  Argument. 
If  the  befl  of  our  modern  Converfa- 
lions  are  apt  to  run  chiefly  upon  Trifles ; 
if  rational  Difcourfes  (efpecially  thofe  of 
a  deeper  Speculation)  have  loft  their  cre- 
dit, and  are  in  difgriace  becaufe  of  their 
Formality,  there  is  reafon  for  more  allow- 
ance in  the  way  of  Humour  and  Gaiety, 
An  eafier  Method  of  treating  thefe  Sub- 
jedts,  will  rhake  'em  more  agreeable  and  fa- 
ftiiliar.  To  difpute  about  'em,  will  be  the 
fame  as  about  other  Matters.  They  need 
not  fpoil  good  Company,  or  take  from  the 
Eafe  or  Pleafure  of  a  polite  Converfation. 
And  the  oftner  thefe  Converfations  are  re- 
new'd,  the  better  will  be  their  Effedt. 
We  {hall  grow  better  Reafoners,  by  rea- 
foning  pleafantly,  and  at  our  eafe;  taking 
Up,  or  laying  down  thefe  Subjedls,  as  we 
fanfy.  So  that,  upon  the  whole,  I  muft 
own  to  you,  T  cannot  be  fcandaliz'd  at 
the  Raillery  you  took  notice  of,  nor  at 
the  Eflfedt  it  had  upon  our  Company.  The 
Humour  was  agreeable,  and  the  pleafanc 
Confufion  which  the  Converfation  ended 
in,  is  at  this  time  as  pleafant  to  me  upon 
Reflection  j  when  I  confider,  that  inftead 
of  being  difcourag'd  from  refuming  the 
Debate,  we  were  fo  much  the  readier  to 
meet  again  at  any  time,  and  difpute  upon 

F  2  the 


78        jin  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part   I. the  fame  Subjefts,  even  with  more  eafe  and 
^^-^V^  fatisfadion  than  before. 

We  had  been  a  long  while  entertain'd, 
you  know,  upon  the  Subjedt  of  Morality 
and  Religion,      And   amidft    the   different 
Opinions  ftarted  and  maintain'd  by  feve- 
ral  of  the  Partys  with  great  Life  and  In- 
genuity ;  one  or  other   wou'd  every  now 
and  then    take   the    liberty   to   appeal   to 
Common    Sense.      Every-one    allowed 
the  Appeal,  and  was  willing  to  fland  the 
trial.      No-one   but    was    affur'd    Common 
Senfe  wou'd  juftify  him.     But  when  IfTue 
was  join'd,  and  the  Caufe  examin'd  at  the 
Bar,   there  cou'd  be  no  Judgment  given. 
The  Partys   however   were  not  lefs  for- 
ward in   renewing   their  Appeal,   on   the 
very  next  occafion  which  prefented.     No- 
one  wou'd  offer  to  call  the  Authority  of 
the  Court  in  queflion  5  till  a  Gentleman, 
whofe  good  Underflanding  was  never  yet 
brought   in   doubt,    defir'd   the  Company, 
very    gravely,    that   they  wou'd   tell  him 
what  Common  Senfe  was, 

"If  by  the  word  Senfe  we  were  to 
"  underfland  Opinion  and  Judgment,  and 
"  by  the  word  common  the  Generality  or 
**  any  confiderable  part  of  Mankind ; 
"  'twou'd  be  hard,  he  faid,  to  difcover 
"  where  the  Subjed  of  common  Senfe 
"  cou'd  lie.  For  that  which  was  accor- 
2  **  ding 


of  Wlc  anS,  Humour.  7p 

*'  ding  to  the  Senfe  of  one  part  of  Man-  Seft.  6. 
"  kind,  was  againft  the  Senfe  of  another,  ^v^'v^ 
"  And  if  the  Majority  were  to  determine 
*'  common  Senfe,  it  wou'd  change  as  often 
"  as  Men  chang'd.  That  which  was  ac- 
"  cording  to  common  Senfe  to  day,  wou'd 
"  be  the  contrary  to  morrow,  or  foon 
"  after." 

But  notwithftanding  the  different  Judg- 
ments of  Mankind  in  moil  Subjeds,  there 
were  fome  however  in  which  'twas  fup- 
pos'd   they  all  agreed,  and   had  the  fame 

Thoughts  in  common. The  Queftion 

was  afk'd  ftill,  Where  f  "  For  whatever 
"  was  of  any  moment,  'twas  fuppos'd, 
"  might  be  reduc'd  under  the  head  of  Ke^ 
"  ligion^  Policy,  or  Morals, 

"Of  the  Differences  in  Religion 
«*  there  was  no  occafion  to  fpeak ;  the  Cafe 
**  was  fo  fully  known  to  all,  and  fo  feeling- 
"  ly  underflood  by  Chriflians,  in  particu- 
"  lar,  among  themfelves.  They  had  made 
**  found  Experiment  upon  one  another  ; 
**  each  Party  in  their  turn.  No  Endea- 
"  vours  had  been  wanting  on  the  fide  of 
"  any  particular  Sedl.  Which-ever  chanc'd 
"  to  have  the  Power,  fail'd  not  of  putting 
"  all  means  in  execution,  to  make  their 
"  private  Senfe  the  publick  one.  But  all 
"  in  vain.  Common  Senfe  was  as  hard  flill 
'*  to  determine  as  Catholick  or  Orthodox, 
F  3  "  What 


8o        ^w  Essay  OM  the  Freedom 

Part  I."  What  with  one  was  inconceivable Myfte- 
l/V^ "  ry,  to  another  was  of  eafy  Comprehen- 

"  fion.      What  to  one  was  Abfurdity,  to 

*'  another  was  Demonft ration. 

"As  for  Policy;  What  Senfe  or 
"  whofe  cou'd  be  call'd  common,  was 
"  equally  a  queftion.  If  plain  Britip  or 
**  Dutch  Senfe  were  right,  Turkijh  and 
*«  French  Senfe  muft  certainly  be  very 
*'  wrong.  And  as  mere  Nonfenfe  as  Pat 
"  five-Obedience  feem'd;  we  found  it  to, 
"  be  the  common  Senfe  of  a  great  Party 
"  amongft  our-felves,  a  greater  Party  in 
"  Europe,  and  perhaps  the  greateft  Part  of 
*'  all  the  World  befides. 

,)  "As  for  Morals;  The  difference, 
"  if  poffible,  was  ftill  wider.  For  with- 
out confidering  the  Opinions  and  Cuf- 
**  toms  of  the  many  barbarous  and  illite- 
"  rate  Nations ;  we  faw  that  even  the  fevf- 
"  who  had  attain'd  to  riper  Letters,  and  to 
"  Philofophy-,  cou'^d  never  as  yet  agree  on 
"  one  and  the  fame  Syftem,  or  acknowledg 
"  the  fame  moral  Principles.  And  fome 
**  even  of  our  mod  admir'd  modern  Philo- 
"  fophers  had  fairly  told  us,  that  Virtue 
"  and  Vice  had,  after  all,  no  other  Law 
"  or  Meafure^  than  mere  Fajhion  and 
!*  Vogue:\ 


CC 


It 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  8 1 

Sea.  6. 
It  might  have  appear'd  perhaps  unfair Cy'VN/ 
in  our  Friends,  had  they  treated  only  the 
graver  Subjeds  in  this  manner;  and  fuffer'd 
the  lighter  to  efcape.  For  in  the  gayer 
Part  of  Life,  our  Follys  are  as  folemn  as 
in  the  moil  ferious.  The  fault  is,  vire  carry 
the  Laugh  but  half-way.  The  falfe  Earneft 
is  ridicul'd,  but  the  falfe  J  eft  paffes  fecure, 
and  becomes  as  errant  Deceit  as  the  other. 
Our  Diverfions,  our  Plays,  our  Amufe- 
ments  become  folemn.  We  dream  of  Hap- 
pinefles,  and  Pofleffions,  and  Enjoyments,  in 
which  we  have  no  Underftanding,  no  Cer- 
tainty ;  and  yet  we  purfue  thefe  as  the 
befl  known  and  mofl  certain  things  in  the 
World.  There  is  nothing  fo  foolifh  and 
deluding  as  a  *  partial  Scepticifm.  For 
whilfl  the  Doubt  is  caft  only  on  one  fide, 
the  Certainty  grows  fo  much  ftronger  on 
the  other.  Whilft  only  one  Face  of  Folly 
appears  ridiculous,  the  other  grows  more 
folemn  and  deceiving. 

But  'twas  not  thus  with  our  Friends. 
They  feem'd  better  Criticks^  and  more  in- 
genious, and  fair  in  their  way  of  queftion- 
ing  receiv'd  Opinions,  and  expofmg  the 
Ridicule  of  Things.  And  if  you  will  al- 
low me  to  carry  on  their  Humour,  I  will 
venture  to  make  the  Experiment  thro'- 
out;  and  try  what  certain  Knowledg  or 

*  VOL.  II.  pag.  230,  231. 

F  4  AfTurance 


8i        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  a.AfTurance  of  things  may  be  recover'd,   in 
^y^Y^  that  very   way,    by  which   all   Certainty, 

you  thought,  was  loft,  ^n4  an  endlefs  Scep^ 

ticifm  introduc'd,  \ 


PART    II. 


S  E  C  T    I. 

IF  a  Native  of  Ethiopia  werQ  on  a 
fudden  tranfported  into  Europe,  and 
placed  either  at  Paris  or  V  e  n  i  c  e 
at  a  time  of  Carnival,  when  the  general 
Face  of  Mankind  was  difguis'd,  and  aU 
moft  every  Creature  wore  a  Mafk  j  'tis 
probable  he  wou'd  for  fome  time  be  at  a 
fland,  before  he  difcover'd  the  Cheat : 
not  imagining  that  a  whole  People  cou'd 
be  fo  fantaftical,  as  upon  Agreement,  at 
an  appointed  time,  to  transform  themfelves 
by  a  Variety  of  Habits,  and  make  it  a 
folemn  Pradice  to  impofe  on  one  another, 
by  this  univerfal  Confufion  of  Charaders 
and  Perfons.  Tho  he  might  at  firft  per- 
haps h^ve  look'd  on  this  with  a  ferious 
eye,  it  wou'd  be  hardly  poffible  for  him 
to  hold  his  Countenance,  when  he  had  per- 

/  ceiv'd 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  8j 

ceiv'd  what  was  carrying  on.  The  Eu-Secft.  i. 
ROPEANs,  on  their  lide,  might  laugh ^•VV; 
perhaps  at  this  Simplicity.  But  our 
Ethiopian  wou'd  certainly  laugh  with 
better  reafon.  'Tis  eafy  to  fee  which  of 
the  two  wou'd  be  ridiculous.  For  he  who 
laughs,  and  is  himfelf  ridiculous,  bears 
a  double  fhare  of  Ridicule.  However, 
fliou'd  it  fo  happen,  that  in  the  Tranfporc 
of  Ridicule,  our  Ethiopian,  having 
his  Head  ftill  running  upon  Masks^  and 
knowing  nothing  of  the  fair  Complexion 
and  common  Drefs  of  the  Europeans, 
fhou'd  upon  the  fight  of  a  natural  Face 
and  Habit,  laugh  jufl  as  heartily  as  before ; 
wou'd  not  he  in  his  turn  become  ridicu- 
lous, by  carrying  the  Jefl:  too  far;  when 
by  a  filly  Prefumption  he  took  Nature  for 
mere  Art^  and  miftook  perhaps  a  Man  of 
Sobriety  and  Senfe  for  one  of  thofe  ridicu- 
lous Mummers  f 

There  was  a  time  when  Men  were 
accountable  only  for  their  Adtions  and 
Behaviour.  Their  Opinions  were  left  to 
themfelves.  They  had  liberty  to  differ  in 
thefe,  as  in  their  Faces.  Every  one  took 
the  Air  and  Look  which  was  natural  to 
him.  But  in  procefs  of  time,  it  was  thought 
decent  to  mend  Mens  Countenances,  and 
render  their  intellectual  Complexions  uni- 
form and  of  a  fort.  Thus  the  Magiflrate 
became  a  Drejjer^   and  in  his  turn  was 

drej's4 


84        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2.drefs*d  too,  as  he  deferv'd;  when  he  had 
t/^V\J  given  up  his  Power  to  a  new  Order  of 
Uire-Men,  But  tho  in  this  extraordinary 
conjundure  'twas  agreed  that  there  was 
only  one  certain  and  true  Drefsy  one  Jingle 
peculiar  Air,  to  which  it  was  neceffary  all 
People  {hou'd  conform ;  yet  the  mifery  was, 
that  neither  the  Magiftrate  nor  the  Itire^ 
Men  themfelves,  cou'd  refolve,  which  of 
the  various  Modes  was  the  exaB  true-one. 
Imagine  now,  what  the  EfFe<ft  of  this  muft 
needs  be;  when  Men  became  perfecuted 
thus  on  every  fide  about  their  Air  and 
Feature,  and  were  put  to  their  fhifts  how 
to  adjuft  and  compofe  their  Mein,  accord- 
ing to  the  right  Mode ;  when  a  thoufand 
Models,  a  thoufand  Patterns  of  Drefs  were 
current,  and  alter'd  every  now  and  then, 
upon  occafion,  according  to  Fajhion  and 
the  Humour  of  the  Times,  Judg  whether 
Mens  Countenances  were  not  like  to  grow 
conftrain'd,  and  the  natural  Vifage  of  Man- 
kind, by  this  Habit,  diftorted,  convuls'd, 
and  render'd  hardly  knowable. 

But  as  unnatural  or  artificial  as  the 
general  Face  of  Things  may  have  been 
render'd  by  this  unhappy  Care  of  Drefs, 
and  Over-Tendernefs  for  the  Safety  of 
Complexions ;  we  muft  not  therefore  ima- 
gine that  all  Faces  are  alike  befmear'd  or 
plaifter'd.  All  is  not  Fucus,  or  mere  Var- 
nilh.     Nor  is  the  Face  of  Truth  lefs  fair 

an4 


of  Wit  ani  Humour.  85 

and  beautiful,  for  all  the  counterfeit  Vizards  Se(5t.  i. 
which  have  been  put  upon  her.  We  muft  v/VNi* 
remember  the  Carnival,  and  what  the 
Occafion  has  been  of  this  wild  Concourfe 
and  Medley  j  who  were  the  Inftitutors  of 
it;  and  to  what  purpofe  Men  were  thus 
fet  a-work  and  amus'd.  We  may  laugh 
fufficiently  at  the  original  Cheat;  and,  if 
pity  will  fuffer  us,  may  make  our-felves  di- 
verfion  enough  with  the  Folly  and  Madnefs 
of  thofe  who  are  thus  caught,  and  pradtls'd 
on,  by  thefe  Impoftures.  But  we  muft  re- 
member withal  our  Ethiopian,  and  be- 
ware, left  by  taking  plain  Nature  for  a  Vi- 
zard, we  become  more  ridiculous  than  the 
People  whom  we  ridicule.  Now  if  a  Jeft 
or  Ridicule  thus  ftrain'd,  be  capable  of 
leading  the  Judgment  fo  far  aftray ;  'tis 
probable  that  an  Excefs  of  Fear  or  Horror 
may  work  the  fame  Effe(5t. 

Had  it  been  your  fortune  (my  Friend  !) 
to  have  liv'd  in  Asia  at  the  time  when 
the  *  Magi  by  an  egregious  Impofture 
got  pofTefTion  of  the  Empire  ;  no  doubt 
you  wou'd  have  had  a  deteftation  of  the 
Ad::  And  perhaps  the  very  Perfons  of 
the  Men  might  have  grown  fo  odious  to 
you,  that  after  all  the  Cheats  and  Abufes 
they  had  committed,  you  might  have  {ttn 
'em  difpatch'd  with  as  relentlefs  an  eye 
as  our  later  European  Anceftors  faw  the 

«  VOL.  III.  p.  48,49. 

De- 


8(5         An  Essay  en  the  Freedom 

Part  a.Deftrudlion  of  a  like  politick  Body  of  Con- 
U^VNJJurers,  the  Knights  Templars-,  who  were 
almoft  become  an  Over-Match  for  the  civil 
Sovereign.  Your  Indignation  perhaps  might 
have  carry'd  you  to  propofe  the  razing  all 
Monuments  and  Memorials  of  thefe  Ma- 
gicians. You  might  have  refolv'd  not  to 
leave  fo  much  as  their  Houfes  {landing. 
But  if  it  had  happen'd  that  thefe  Magi- 
cians, in  the  time  of  theirDominion,  had 
made  any  Colledion  of  Books,  or  com- 
pil'd  any  themfelves,  in  which  they  had- 
treated  of  Philofophy,  or  Morals,  or  any 
other  Science,  or  Part  of  Learning ;  wou'd 
you  have  carry'd  your  Refentment  fo  far 
as  to  have  extirpated  thefe  alfo,  and  con- 
demn'd  every  (Opinion  or  Doftrine  they 
had  efpous'd,  for  no  other  reafon  than 
merely  becauje  they  had  efpous'd  it  ?  Hardly 
a  Scythian,  aTARTAR,  or  a  Goth, 
wou'd  ad:  or  reafon  fo  abfurdly.  Much 
lefs  wou'd  you  (my  Friend !)  have  carry'd 
on  this  Magophony,  or  Prieji-Mafa- 
ere,  with  fuch  a  barbarous  Zeal.  For,  in 
good  earnefl,  to  deftroy  a  Philofophy  in  ha- 
tred to  a  Man,  implies  as  errant  a  Tartar- 
Notion,  as  to  deftroy  or  murder  a  Man  in 
order  to  plunder  him  of  his  Wit,  and  get 
the  inheritance  of  his  Underftanding. 

I  Must  confefs  indeed,  that  had  all 
the  Inftitutions,  Statutes,  and  Regulations 
pf  this  antient  Hierarchy^    refembled  the 

funda- 


of  Wit  and  Humour*  8/ 

fundamental  *  one,    of  the  Order  it-felf,  Seft.  i. 
they  might  with  a  great  deal  of  Juflice  ^^V^^. 
have  been  fupprefs'd  :  For  one  can't  with- 
out fome   abhorrence    read   that  Law  of 
theirs  j 

•f-  Nam  Magus  ex  Matre  C0  Gnato  gig- 
natur  oportet. 

But  the  Conjurers  (as  we'll  rather  fup- 
pofe)  having  confider'd  that  they  ought  in 
their  Principle  to  appear  as  fair  as  poffible 
to  the  World,  the  better  to  conceal  their 
TraBice^  found  it  highly  for  their  Intereft 
to  efpoufe  fome  excellent  moral  Rules,  and 
eftablifh  the  very  beft  Maxims  of  this  kind. 
They  thought  it  for  their  advantage  per- 
haps, on  their  firfl  fetting  out,  to  recom- 
mend the  greatefl  Purity  of  Religion,  the 
greateft  Integrity  of  Life  and  Manners. 
They  may  perhaps  too,  in  general,  have 
preach'd  up  Charity  and  Good-will.  They 
may  have  fet  to  view  the  faireft  Face  of 
human  Nature  j  and,  together  with  their 
By-Laws,  and  political  Inftitutions,  have 
interwove  the  honefteft  Morals  and  befl 
Do<ftrine  in  the  World. 

How  therefore  fliou'd  we  have  behav'd 
our-felves  in  this  Affair  ?    How  fhou'd  we 

f  Catull.  87. 

have 


8S       jin  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2.  have  carry'd  our-felves  towards  this  Order 
^y^\r^  of  Men,  at  the  time  of  the  Difcovery  of 
their  Cheat,  and  Ruin  of  their  Empire? 
Shou'd  we  have  fall'n  to  work  inftantly 
with  their  Syftems,  ftruck  at  their  Opinion^ 
and  Dodrines  without  diftindtion,  and  e- 
redted  a  contrary  Philofophy  in  their  teeth  ? 
Shou'd  we  have  flown  at  every  religious 
and  moral  Principle,  deny'd  every  natural 
and  focial  Affedion,  and  render'd  Men  as 
much  *  Wolves  as  was  poflible  to  one  ano- 
ther, whilft  we  defcrib'cl  *em  fuch  ;  and  en- 
deavour'd  to  itiake  them  fee  themfelves  by 
far  more  monftrous  and  corrupt,  than  with 
the  worft  Intehtions  it  Was  ever  poflible  fbt 

the  worfl:  of  *em  to  become  ? This, 

you'll  fay,  doubtlefs  wou'd  have  been  a  very 
prepofterous  Part,  and  cou'd  never  have 
bten  aded  by  other  than  mean  Spirits, 
fuch  as  had  been  held  in  awe,  and  over- 
frighted  -f"  by  the  M  A  G  i. 

And  yet  an  %  able  and  witty  Philofo- 
pher  of  our  Nation  was,  we  know,  of  late 

*  Jn/ra,  p.  1 18.  and  VOL.  II.  /.  320. 
^•f  VOL.  III.  p.  64,  6$.  in  the  Notes. 

:j:  Mr.  H  o  B  B  E  s,  who  thus  cxpfeffes  himfelf :  By  re/idinj^ 
of  thefe  Greek  and  Latin  Authors,  Men  from  their  Childhood 
have  gotten  a  Habit  (under  a  falfe  Jhezu  of  Liberty)  tf  fa- 
vouring THmults,  and  of  licentious  contrdling  the  AflioHs  of 
their  Sovereigns.  Leviathan,  Pdrt  2.  cb.  7.i..p.  ii\.  By  this 
Reafoning  of  Mr.  H  o  e  b  e  s  it  fhou'd  follow,  that  there  can 
never  be  any  Tumults  or  depofing  of  Sovereigns  at  Cbnjian- 
tinople,  or  in  Mogol.  See  again,  p.  171,  and  377.  and  what 
he  intimates  to  his  Prince  (p,  193.)  concerning  this  Extirpa- 
tion of  antient  Literature,  in  favour  of  his  Leviathah-Hypo- 
thefis,  and  new  Philofophy. 

Years, 


of  Wit  and,  Humour.  85^ 

Years,  fo  poflfefs'd  with  a  Horror  of  thisSed:.  i. 
kind,  that  both  with  refpe<ft  to  Politicks  OO/'NJ 
and  Morals,  he  directly  ad:ed  in  this  Spirit 
of  Majfacre,  The  Fright  he  took  upon 
the  Sight  of  the  then  governing  Powers, 
who  unjuftly  affum'd  the  Authority  of  the 
People,  gave  him  fuch  an  Abhorrence  of 
all  popular  Government,  and  of  the  very 
Notion  of  Liberty  it-felf  j  that  to  extinguifh 
it  for  ever,  he  recommends  the  very  ex- 
tinguifhing  of  Letters,  and  exhorts  Princes 
not  to  fpare  fo  much  as  an  antient Roman 

or  Greek  Hiftorian. Is  not  this  ia 

truth  fomewhat  Gothick  ?  And  has  not  our 
Philofopher,  in  appearance,  fomething  of 
the  Savage^  that  he  {hou'd  ufe  Philofophy 
and  Learning  as  the  Scythians  are  faid 
to  have  us'd  Anacharsis  and  others, 
for  having  viiited  the  Wife  of  Greece, 
and  learnt  the  Manners  of  a  polite  People  ? 

His  Quarrel  with  Religion  was  the 
fame  as  with  Liberty.  The  fame  Times 
gave  him  the  fame  Terror  in  this  other 
kind.  He  had  nothing  before  his  Eyes 
befide  the  Ravage  of  Enthujiafm,  and  the 
Artific^e  of  thofe  who  rais'd  and  conduc- 
ted that  Spirit.  And  the  good  fociable 
Man,  as  favage  and  unfociable  as  he 
wou'd  make  hiinfelf  and  all  Mankind 
appear  by  his  Philofophy,  expos'd  himfelf 
during  his  Life,  and  took  the  utmoft  pains, 

that 


po        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2.  that  after  his  Death  we  might  be  delivered 
v.^'V^^  from  the  occafion  of  thefe  Terrors.  He 
did  his  utmoft  to  fhew  us,  "  That  both 
"  in  Religion  and  Morals  we  were  im- 
"  pos'd  on  by  our  Governors ;  that  there 
"  was  nothing  which  by  Nature  inclined 
*'  us  either  way }  nothing  which  natural- 
"  ly  drew  us  to  the  Love  of  what  was 
"  without,  or  beyond  *  our-felves :"  Tho 
the  Love  of  fuch  great  Truths  and  fove- 
reign  Maxims  as  he  imagined  thefe  to  be, 
made  him  the  moft  laborious  of  all  Men  in 
compoling  Syftems  of  this  kind  for  our 
Ufe;  and  forc'd  him,  notwithftanding  his 
natural  Fear,  to  run  continually  the  higheft 
rifk  of  being  a  Martyr  for  our  Delive- 
rance. 

Give  me  leave  therefore  (my  Friend!) 
on  this  occafion,  to  prevent  your  Seriouf- 
nefs,  and  affure  you,  that  there  is  no  fuch 
mighty  Danger  as  we  are  apt  to  imagine 
from  thefe  fierce  Profecutors  of  Superfti- 
tion,  who  are  fo  jealous  of  every  religious 
or  moral  Principle.  Whatever  Savages 
they  may  appear  in  Philofophy,  they  are 
in  their  common  Capacity  as  Civil  Perfons, 
as  one  can  wifh.  Their  free  communicating 
of  their  Principles  may  witnels  for  them. 
'Tis  the  height  of  Sociablenefs  to  be  thus 
friendly  and  communicative, 

J 

*  VOL.  II. /.So. 

u 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  91 

Sedl.  I. 
I F  the  Principles,  indeed,  were  con-  "^-^^v^-^ 
ceal'd  from  us,  and  made  a  Myjiery\  they 
might  become  confiderable.  Things  are 
often  made  fo,  by  being  kept  as  Secrets 
of  a  Sed:  or  Party  ;  and  nothing  helps  this 
^Tiore  than  the  Antipathy  and  Shynefs  of 
a  contrary  Party.  If  we  fall  prefently  in- 
to Horrors,  and  Conflernation,  upon  the 
hearing  Maxims  which  are  thought  poi~ 
fonoiis ;  we  are  in  no  difpofition  to  ufe  that 
familiar  and  eafy  part  of  Reafon,  which 
is  the  beft  Antidote.  The  only  Poijbn 
to  Reafon,  is  Fajjion.  For  falfe  Reafon- 
ing  is  foon  redrefs'd,  where  Paflion  is  re- 
mov'd.  But  if  the  very  hearing  certain 
Proportions  of  Philofophy  be  fufficient  to 
move  our  Paffion  j  'tis  plain,  the  Poifon 
has  already  gain'd  on  us,  and  we  are  effec- 
tually prevented  in  the  ufe  of  our  realon- 
ing  Faculty. 

Were  it  not  for  the  Prejudices  of 
this  kind  j  what  fliou'd  hinder  us  from 
diverting  our-felves  with  the  Fancy  of 
one  of  thefe  modern  Reformers  we  have 
been  fpeaking  of  P  What  fhou'd  we  fay 
to  one  of  thefe  Anti-zealots^  who,  in  the 
Zeal  of  fuch  a  cool  Philofophy,  ihou'd 
aflure  us  faithfully,  "  That  we  were  the 
"  moil  miflaken  Men  in  the  world,  to 
**  imagine  there  was  any  fuch  thing  as 
«  natural  Faith  or  Juftice  ?    for   that   it 

Vol.  I.  G  "  was 


92  ^n  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

J'art  2."  was  only  Force  and  Power  which  con- 
^-<V"^  **  ftituted  Right,  That  there  was  no 
**  fuch  thing  in  reality  as  Virtue ;  no  Prin- 
"  ciple  of  Order  in  things  above,  or  be- 
*'  low ;  no  lecret  Charm  or  Force  of  Na?- 
"  ture,  by  which  every-one  was  niadc 
<*  to  operate  willingly  or  unwillingly  to- 
"  wards  publick  Good,  and  puni{h*d 
"  and    tormented    if    he    did    otherwife." 

Is  not  this  the   very  Charm  it-felf  ? 

Is  not  the  Gentleman  at  this  inftant  un- 
der the  power  of  it  ?  —  "  Sir  !  The 
"  Philofophy  you  have  condefcended  to 
"  reveal  to  us,  is  moft  extraordinary. 
"  We  are  beholden  to  you  for  your  In- 
"  flrudtion.  But,  pray,  whence  is  this 
"  Zeal  in  our  behalf?  What  arc  We  to 
"  Ton  ?  Are  You  our  Father  ?  Or  if  You 
"  were,  why  this  Concern  for  Us  ?  Is 
"  there  then  fuch  a  thing  as  natural  Af- 
"  feSfion  ?  If  not ;  why  all  this  Pains, 
**  why  all  this  Danger  on  our  account? 
"  Why  not  keep  this  Secret  to  Your-felf  ? 
"  Of  what  advantage  is  it  to  You,  to 
"  deliver  us  from  the  Cheat  ?  The  more 
"  are  taken  in  it,  the  better.  'Tis  di- 
**  redly  againft  your  Interefl  to  unde- 
*'  ceive  Us,  and  let  us  know  that  only 
**  private  Intereft  governs  You  ',  and  that 
**  nothing  nobler,  or  of  a  larger  kind, 
"  fhou'd  govern  us,  whom  you  converle 
"  with.  Leave  us  to  our-felves,  and  to 
*'  that  notable  ^rt  by  which  we  are  hap- 
2  "  pily 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  93 

"  pily  tam'd,    and  render'd  thus  mild  and  Se(5t.  z- 
"  Jheepijh.     'Tis  not  fit  we   fliou'd  know  *.XVN; 
"  that  by  Nature  we  are   all  Wolves.     Is 
**  it  poffible  that  one  who  has  really  difco- 
"  ver'd  himfelf  fuch,    ftioii'd  take  pains  to 
"  communicate  fuch  a  Difcovery  ?" 

SECT.    ir. 

IN  reality  (my  Friend !)  a  fevere  Brow 
may  well  be  fpar'd  on  this  occafion  j 
when  we  are  put  thus  upon  the  Defenfe 
of  common  Honejiy^  by  fuch  fair  honefl 
Gentlemen,  who  are  in  Pra<5lice  fo  diffe- 
rent from  what  they  wou'd  appear  in  Spe- 
culation. Knaves  I  know  there  are  in 
Notion  and  Principle^  as  well  as  in  Prac^ 
tice  :  who  think  all  Honefty  as  well  as  Re- 
ligion a  mere  Cheat ;  and  by  a  very  confif- 
tent  reafoning,  have  refolv'd  deliberately  to 
do  whatever  by  Power  or  ^rt  they  are 
able,  for  their  private  Advantage.  But  fuch 
as  thefe  never  open  themfelves  in  Friend- 
fhip  to  others.  They  have  no  fuch  Paffion 
for  Truth,  or  Love  for  Mankind.  They 
have  no  Quarrel  with  Religion  or  Morals ; 
but  know  what  ufe  to  make  of.  both,  up^ 
on  occafion.  If  they  ever  difcover  their 
principles,  'tis  only  at  unawares.  They 
are  fure  to  preach  Honefty,  and  go  to 
Church. 

Q  z  On 


^4        jin  Ess  AY  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2. 

^■-'^^^  On  the  other  fide,  the  Gentlemen  for 
whom  I  am  apologizing,  cannot  however 
be  caird  Hypocrites.  They  fpeak  as  ill  of 
themfelves  as  they  pofTibly  can.  If  they 
have  hard  thoughts  of  human  Nature ;  'tis 
a  Proof  ftill  of  their  Humanity,  that  they 
give  fuch  warning  to  the  World.  If  they 
reprefent  Men  by  Nature  treacherous  and 
wild^  'tis  out  of  care  for  Mankind ;  left  by 
being  too  tame  and  trujling,  they  fbou'd 
eafily  be  caught. 

Impostors  naturally  fpeak  the  beft 
of  human  Nature,  that  they  may  the  ea- 
lier  abufe  it.  Thefe  Gentlemen,  on  the 
contrary,  fpeak  the  worft  ;  and  had  rather 
they  themfelves  (hou'd  be  cenfur'd  with  the 
reft,  than  that  a  Few  fliou'd  by  Impofture 
prevail  over  the  Many.  For  'tis  Opinion  of 
Goodnefs  *  which  creates  Eafinefs  of  Truft  : 
and  by  Trujl  we  are  betray'd  to  Power ;  our 
very  Reafon  being  thus  captivated  by  thole 
in  whom  we  come  infenlibly  to  have  an 
implicit  Faith.  But  fuppofing  one  another 
to  be  by  Nature  fuch  very  Savages^  we  {hall 
take  care  to  come  lefs  in  one  another's 
power :  and  apprehending  Power  to  be  in- 
fatiably  coveted  by  ally  we  ftiall  the  better 
fence  againft  the  Evil  ;  not  by  giving  all 
'into  one  Hand  (as  the  Champion  of  this 


» 


A^OL.  II.  p.  334.  and  VOL.  III.  /.  114. 

3  Caufe 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  p  j 

Caufe  wou'd  have  us)  but,  on  the  contrary,  Se6t.  2- 
by  a  right  Divifion  and  Balance  of  Power,  ^-^v^*-' 
and  by  the   Reftraint  of  good  Laws  and 
Limitations,  which  may  fecure  the  pubUck 
Liberty. 

Shou'd  you  therefore  afk  me,  whe- 
ther I  really  thought  thefe  Gentlemen  were 
fully  perfuaded  of  the  Principles  they  fo 
often  advance  in  Company  ?  I  fliou'd  tell 
you.  That  tho  I  wou'd  not  abfolutely  ar- 
raign the  Gentlemens  Sincerity ;  yet  there 
was  fomething  of  Myftery  in  the  Cafe, 
more  than  was  imagin'd.  The  Reafon, 
perhaps,  why  Men  of  Wit  delight  fo  much 
to  efpoufe  thefe  paradoxical  Syftems,  is  not 
in  truth  that  they  are  fo  fully  fatisfy'd  with 
'em ;  but  in  a  view  the  better  to  oppofe 
fome  other  Syftems,  which  by  their  fair 
appearance  have  help'd,  they  think,  to 
bring  Mankind  under  Subjection.  They 
imagine  that  by  this  general  ^ceptkifm^ 
which  they  wou'd  introduce,  they  fliall  bet- 
ter deal  with  the  dogmatical  Spirit  which 
prevails  in  fome  particular  SubjeSfs.  And 
when  they  have  accuftom'd  Men  to  bear 
Contradiction  in  the  main,  and  hear  the 
Nature  of  Things  difputed,  at  large ;  it 
may  be  fafer,  they  conclude,  to  argue  fe- 
parately,  upon  certain  nice  Points  in  which 
they  arc  not  altogether  fo  well  fatisfy'd.  ' 
So  that  from  hence,  perhaps,  you  may  ftill 
better  apprehend  why,  in  Converfation, 
G  3  the 


^6        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2.the  Spirit  of  Raillery  prevails  fo  much,  and 

C/V^  Notions  are  taken  up  for  no  reafon  befides 

their  being  odd,  and  out  of  the  way. 

SECT.    III. 

BUT  let  who  will  condemn  the  Hu^ 
mour  thus  defcrib'd  ;  for  my  part, 
I  am  in  no  fuch  apprehenfion  from  this 
fceptical  kind  of  Wit.  Men  indeed  may, 
in  a  ferious  way,  be  fo  wrought  on,  and 
confounded,  .by  different  Modes  of  Opi- 
nion, different  Syflems  and  Schemes  im- 
posd  by  Authority,  that  they  may  wholly 
lofe  all  Notion  or  Comprehenfion  of  Truth, 
I  can  eafily  apprehend  what  Effect  ^we  has 
over  Mens  Underflandings.  I  can  very 
well  fuppofe  Men  may  be  frighted  out  of 
their  Wits :  but  I  have  no  apprehenfion 
they  fliou'd  be  laugh'd  out  of  'em.  I  can 
hardly  imagine  that  in  a  pleafant  way 
they  fliou'd  ever  be  talk'd  out  of  their 
Love  for  Society,  or  reafon'd  out  of  Hu- 
manity and  common  Senfe,  A  mannerly 
Wit  can  hurt  no  Caufe  or  Interefl  for 
which  I  am  in  the  leafl  concern'd :  And 
philofophical  Speculations,  politely  ma- 
nag'd,  can  never  furely  render  Mankind 
more  un-fociable  or  un-civiliz'd.  This  is 
not  the  Quarter  from  whence  I  can  poifi- 
bly  expert  an  Inroad  of  Savagenefs  and 
Barbarity.  And  by  the  befl  of  my  Ob- 
fervation,    I   have  learnt,    that  Virtue   is 

never 


\ 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  97 

never  fuch  a  Sufferer,  by  being  conteJled,^tdi.  3. 
as  by  being  betray  d.  My  Fear  is  not  fo^«/VN^ 
much  from  its  witty  Antagonifis^  who  give 
it  Exercife,  and  put  it  on  its  Defenfe,  as 
from  its  tender  Niirfes,  who  are  apt  to 
over-lay  it,  and  kill  it,  with  Excefs  of  Care 
and  Cherifhing. 

I  Have  known  a  Building,  which  by 
the  Officioufnefs  of  the  Workmen  has 
been  fo  Jhordy  and  fcrew'd  up,  on  the  fide 
where  they  pretended  it  had  a  Leaning, 
that  it  has  at  lafl  been  turn'd  the  con- 
trary way,  and  overthrown.  There  has 
fomething,  perhaps,  of  this  kind  hap- 
pen'd  in  Morals,  Men  have  not  been 
contented  to  fhew  the  natural  Advantages 
of  Honefly  and  Virtue.  They  have  ra- 
ther lelTen'd  thefe,  the  better,  as  they 
thought,  to  advance  another  Foundation. 
They  have  made  Virtue  fo  mercenary  a 
thing,  and  have  talk'd  fo  much  of  its 
Rewards,  that  one  can  hardly  tell  what 
there  is  in  it,  after  all,  which  can  be  worth 
rewarding.  For  to  be  brib'd  only  or  ter- 
rify'd  into  an  honefl  Practice,  befpeaks 
little  of  real  Honefly  or  Worth.  We  may 
make,  'tis  true,  whatever  Bargain  we  think 
fit  5  and  may  beflow  in  favour  what  Over- 
plus we  pleafe.  But  there  can  be  no  Ex- 
cellence or  Wifdom  in  voluntarily  reward- 
ing what  is  neither  eflimable,  nor  de- 
ferving.  And  if  Virtue  be  not  really 
G  4  eflimable 


9 8         j4n  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2.eflimable  in  it-felf,  I  can  fee  nothing  efli- 
4/W  mable   in   following  it  for  the  fake  of  a 
Bargain. 

If  the  Love  of  doing  good,  be  not,  of 
it-felf,  a  good  and  right  Inclination  ;  I  know 
not  how  there  can  poflibly  be  fuch  a  thing 
as  Goodnefs  or  Virtue.  If  the  Inclination 
be  right ;  'tis  a  perverting  of  it,  to  apply 
it  folely  to  the  Reward,  and  make  us  con- 
ceive fuch  Wonders  of  the  Grace  and  Fa- 
vour w^hich  is  to  attend  Virtue  ;  when  there 
is  fo  little  fliewn  of  the  intrinfick  Worth 
or  Value  of  the  Thing  it-felf. 

I  c  o  u'd  be  almoft  tempted  to  think, 
that  the  true  Reafon  why  fome  of  the  moft 
heroick  Virtues  have  fo  little  notice  taken 
of  'em  in  our  holy  Religion,  is,  becaufe 
there  wou'd  have  been  no  room  left  for 
Difinterejiednefs^  had  they  beep  intitled 
to  a  fliare  of  that  infinite  Reward,  which 
Providence  has  by  Revelation  aflign'd  to 
other  Dutys.      *  Private  Friendjhipy   and 

Zeal 

♦  By  Private  Friendjhip  no  fair  Reader  can  here  fuppofe 
is  meant  that  common  Benevolence  and  Charity  which  every 
Chriftian  is  oblig'd  to  fhew  towards  all  Men,  and  in  parti- 
cular towards  his  Fellow-Chrillians,  his  Neighbour,  Brother, 
and  Kindred,  of  whatever  degree  ;  but  that  peculiar  Relation 
which  is  formed  by  a  Confent  and  Harmony  of  Minds,  by 
mutual  Efteem,  and  reciprocal  Tendernefs  and  Affeftion  j 
and  which  we  emphatically  call  aFRIENDSHIP.  Such 
was  that  between  tKe  two  Jcwip  Heroes  after-^ention'd, 

whofe 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  99 

Zeal  for  the  Publick,  and  our  Chuntry,  areSedl.  3, 
Virtues  purely  voluntary  in  a  Chriftian.  ^^v^^ 
They  are  no  eflential  Parts  of  his  Charity. 
He  is  not  fo  ty'd  to  the  Affairs  of  this 
Life ;  nor  is  he  oblig'd  to  enter  into  fucli 
Engagements  with  this  lower  World,  as  are 
of  no  help  to  him  in  acquiring  a  better. 
His  Converfation  is  in  Heaven.  Nor  has 
he  occafion  for  fuch  fupernumerary  Cares 

or 


whofe  Love  and  Tendernefs  was  furpajfing  that  of  Women, 
{2  Samuel,  ch.  i.)  Such  were  thofe  Friendfhips  defcrib'd 
lo  frequently  by  Poets,  between  Pylaoes  and  Ores- 
tes, Theseus  and  Pirithous,  with  many  others. 
Such  were  thofe  between  Philofophers,  Heroes,  and  the 
greateft  of  Men  ;  between  Socrates  and  Antisthen£s, 
Plato  and  Dion,  Epaminondas  and  Pelopidas, 
SciPio  and  L>elius,  Cato  and  Brutus,  Thrasea 
and  Helvidius.  And  fuch  there  may  have  lately  been, 
and  are  ftill  perhaps  in  our  own  Age  j  tho  Envy  fufFers 
not  the  few  Examples  of  this  kind  to  be  remark'd  in  pub- 
lick.  The  Author's  Meaning  is  indeed  fo  plain  of  it-felf, 
that  it  needs  no  explanatory  Apology  to  fatisfy  an  im- 
partial Reader.  As  for  others  who  objeft  the  Singularity 
of  the  AlTertion,  as  diifering,  they  fuppofe,  from  what  our 
Reverend  Dodlors  in  Religion  commonly  rmiintain,  they 
may  read  what  the  learned  and  pious  Biiliop  Taylor  fays  in 
his  Treatife  of  Friend(hip.  "  You  inquire,  fays  he,  how 
♦♦  far  a  dear  and  a  perfedt  Friendfhip  is  authoriz'd  by  the 
"  Principles  of  ChrilHanity  ?  To  this  I  anfwer.  That  the 
*'  word  Friendfiip  in  the  ienfe  we  commonly  mean  by  it, 
**  is  not  fo  much  as  nam'd  in  the  Nev/  Teltament ;  and 
**■  our  Religion  takes  no  notice  of  it.  You  think  it 
•'  ftrange  ;  but  read  on,  before  you  fpend  fo  much  as  the 
<'  beginning  of  a  Paflion  or  a  Wonder  upon  it.  There 
"  is  mention  of  Friendfoip  of  the  World;  and  it  is  faid  to 
**  be  Enmity  nxiith  God:  but  the  Word  is  no  where  elfe 
"  nam'd,  or  to  any  other  purpofe,  in  all  the  New  Tefta- 
**  ment.  It  fpeaks  of  Friends  often;  but  by  Friends  are 
*'  meant  our  Acquaintance,  or  our  Kindred,  the  Relatives 

*'  of  our  Family,  m  our  Fortune,  or  our  Seft,  i^c. 

*«  And 


1  oo       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  2. or  Embaraflments  here  on  Earth,  as  majr 
U/VV  obftrud:  his  way  thither,  or  retard  him  in 
the  careful  Tafk  of  working  out  his  own 
Salvation.  If  neverthelefs  any  Portion  of 
Reward  be  referv'd  hereafter  for  the  ge- 
nerous Part  of  a  Patriot,  or  that  of  a 
thorow  Friend ;  this  is  ftill  behind  the  Cur- 
tain, and  happily  conceal'd  from  us ;  that 
we  may  be  the  more  deferving  of  it,  when 
it  comes. 


**  And  I  think  I  have  reafon  to  be  confident,  that  the 
*'  word  Friend  (fpeaking  of  human  Intercourft)  is  no  other- 
*'  ways  us'd  in  the  Gofpels,  or  Epillles,  or  Afts  of  the 
**  Apoftles."  And  afterwards,  "  Chriilian  Ci.arity  (fays 
"  he)  is  Friendlhip  to  all  the  World;  and  when  Fritnd- 
**  {hips  weie  the  nobleft  things  in  the  World,  Charity  was 
"  little,  like  the  Sun  drawn  in  at  a  Chink,  or  his  Beams 
*'  drawn  into  the  Center  of  a  Burning-glafs :  But  Chriftian 
**  Charity  is  Friendfhip  expanded  like  the  Face  of  the  Sun, 
*'  when  it  mounts  above  the  Eaftern  Hills."  In  reality 
the  good  Bifhop  draws  all  his  Notions  as  well  as  Examples 
of  private  Friendfhip  from  the  Heathen  World,  or  from 
the  Times  preceding  Chriftianity.  And  after  citing  a  Greek 
Author,  he  immediately  adds :  "  Of  fuch  immortal,  ab- 
*'  ftradled,  pure  Friendlhips,  indeed  there  is  no  great  plenty ; 
**  but  they  who  are  the  fame  to  their  Friend  d's'vxfs^tv, 
*'  when  he  is  in  another  Country,  or  in  another  World, 
*'  are  fit  to  preferve  the  facred  Fire  for  eternal  Sacrifices, 
**  and  to  perpetuate  the  Memory  of  thofe  exemplary 
**  Friendfhips  of  the  beft  Men,  which  have  fiU'd  the  World 
**  with  Hiuory  and  Wonder:  for  in  no  other  fenfe  but 
**  this  can  it  be  true,  that  Friendftiips  are  pure  Loves,  re- 
**  garding  to  do  good  more  than  to  receive  it.  He  that  is 
"  a  Friend  after  Death,  hopes  not  for  a  Recompence  from 
*'  his  Friend,  and  makes  no  bargain  either  for  Fame  or 
f '  Love ;  but  is  rewarded  with  the  Confcience  and  Satif- 
*  faiUon  of  doing  bravely." 


It 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  loi 

^  SecS.  3. 

I T  appears  indeed  under  the  yewifh  DiA  w^v^^ 
penfation,  that  each  of  thefe  Virtues  had 
their  illuftrious  Examples,  and  were  in 
fome  manner  Pecommended  to  us  as  ho- 
nourable, and  worthy  our  Imitation.  Even 
Saul  himfelf,  as  ill  a  Prince  as  he  is  re- 
prefented,  appears  both  Uving  and  dying 
to  have  been  refpedted  and  prais'd  for  the 
Love  he  bore  his  native  Country.  And 
the  Love  which  was  fo  remarkable  between 
his  Son  and  his  SucceiTor,  gives  us  a  noble 
View  of  a  difinterefted  Friend{hip,  at  leaft 
on  one  fide.  But  the  heroick  Virtue  of 
thefe  Perfons  had  only  the  common  Re- 
ward of  Praife  attributed  to  it,  and  cou'd 
not  claim  a  future  Recompence  under  a 
Religion  which  taught  no  future  State,  nor 
exhibited  any  Rewards  or  Punifhments,  be- 
fides  fuch  as  were  Temporal,  and  had  re- 
fpedl  to  the  written  Law. 

And  thus  the  Jews  as  well  as  Heathens 
were  left  to  their  Philofophy,  to  be  in- 
truded in  the  fublime  part  of  Virtue,  and 
induc'd  by  Reafon  to  that  which  was  never 
injoin'd  *em  by  Command.  No  Premium 
or  Penalty  being  inforc'd  in  thefe  Cafes, 
the  difinterefted  Part  fubfifted,  the  Virtue 
was  a  free  Choice,  and  the  Magnanimity 
of  the  A<St  was  left  intire.  He  who  wou'd 
be  generous,  had  the  Means.  He  who 
\vou'd  frankly  ferve  his  Friend,  or  Coun- 
try, 


Toi      jin  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

part  2.try,  at  the  *  expence  even  of  his  Life,  might 
V'Y'*^ do  it  on  fair  terms.  -j-Dulce  et  de- 
corum EST  was  his  fole Reafon.  *Twas 
Inviting  and  Becoming.  'Twas  Good  and 
Honeji.  And  that  this  is  ftill  a  good  Rea- 
fon, and  according  to  Common  Senfe,  I  will 
endeavour  to  fatisfy  you.  For  I  fliou'd 
think  my-felf  very  ridiculous  to  be  angry 
with  any-one  for  thinking  me  difhoneft ;  if 
I  cou'd  give  no  account  of  my  Honefty, 
nor  {hew  upon  what  Principle  I  differ'd 
from  X  a  Knave, 

*  Peradventurey  fays  the  holy  Apoftle,  for  a  good  Man 
tme  vjoud  enjen  dare  to  die,  -m^  v(  )^  TOhy.^,  &c.  Rom. 
ch.  5.  V.  7.  This  the  ApoiLe  judicioufly  iuppofes  to  be- 
long to  human  Nature  :  tho  he  h  ib  far  Irom  founding  any 
Precept  on  it,  that  he  ufliers  his  private  Opinion  with  a  very 
dubious  Peradventure. 

+  HORAT.  Lib.  3.  Od.  2. 

%  Inf.  p.  130,  131,  &c.   172, 


PART 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  loj 

Sea.  I. 


PART    III. 


SECT.    I. 

THE  Roman  Satirift  may  be  thought 
more  than  ordinarily  fatirical,  when 
fpeaking  of  the  Nobility  and  Court, 
he  is  fo  far  from  allowing  them  to  be  the 
Standard  of  Politenefs  and  good  Senfe,  that 
he  makes  'em  in  a  manner  the  Reverfe. 

*  Rams  enim  ferme  Senfus  communis  in 

ilia 
For  tuna    ■    - 

Some  of  the  -f-  moft  ingenious  Commen- 
tators, however,  interpret  this  very  diffe- 
rently from  what  is  generally  apprehended. 

They 

*  Juv.  Sat.  8.  <y.  73. 

•j-  Vi^t.  The  two  Cafauhons,  If.  and  Mer.  Salmajius,  and 
our  EiigUfl}  Gataker:  See  the  firit  in  Capitolinus,  Vit.  M.  Ant. 
Juh  finem.  The  fecond  in  his  Comment  on  M.  Ant.  lib.  i . 
feft.  13,  &  16.  Gataker  on  the  fame  place  ;  and  Salmajius 
in  the  lame  Life  of  Capitolinus,  at  the  end  of  his  Annotations. 
The  Greek  word  is  KotyovoftfMn'vtl,  which  Salmajius  interprets, 
<^*  (nudcratam,  uAtatam  &  »rdinariam  hominis  mentem  qux 

<*  in 


i<54      -^^^  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3- They  make  this  Common  Senfe  of  the  Poet, 
v^V^w  by  a  Greek  Derivation,  to  fignify  Senfe  of 
Publick  Weal,  and  of  the  Common  Interejl  -, 
Love  of  the  Community  or  Society,  natural 
AfFedion,  Humanity,  ObHgingnefs,  or  that 
fort  of  Civility  which  rifes  from  a  juft  Senfe 
of  the  common  Rights  of  Mankind,  and  the 
natural  Equality  there  is  among  thofe  of 
the  fame  Species. 

And  indeed  if  we  confider  the  thing 
nicely,  it  muft  feem  fomewhat  hard  in  the 
Poet,   to  have  deny'd  Wit  or  Ability  to  a 

Court 

**  in  commune  quodammodo  confulit,  nee  omnia  ad  commo- 
**  dum  fuum  refert,  refpeftumque  etiam  habet  eorum  cum 
•'  quibus  verfatur,  modefte,  modiceque  de  fe  fentiens.  At 
**  contra  inflati  &  fuperbi  omnes  fe  fibi  tantum  fuifque  com- 
**  modis  natos  arbitrantur,  &  prae  fe  caeteros  contemnunt  & 
**  negligunt ;  &  hi  funt  qui  Senfupi  Communem  non  habere 
**  refte  dici  poffunt.  Nam  ita  Senfum  Communem  accipit 
"  Jwvenalis,  Sat.  8.  Rarus  enimferme  SENSUS  COM- 
**  MUNIS,  ^c.  iiKAV^^amAV  &  Xp«r6T«7<t  Galenus  vo- 
**  cat,  quam  Marcus  de  fe  loquens  Y,oivqv()Y\^<tvvv^v  ;  &  alibi, 
**  ubi  de  eadem  re  loquitur,  Uije/ornjtt,  K)  Euyvuijioffv'vfiv, 
**  qua  gratiamilli  fecerit  Marcus  fimul  eundi  ad  Germanicum 
"  Bellum  ac  fequendi  fe."  In  the  fame  manner  J/aac  Cafau- 
hon :  Herodianusy  fays  he,  calls  this  the  i^  lAr^iw  i^  }a"o/u2« 
Ifijr.  **  Subjicit  vero  Antoninus  quafi  hanc  vocem  interpre- 
*'  tans,  a^  to  i(pei(xQtU  tvU  (piKoit  imIti  nvJ'ei^vtiv  etOrS  <aav- 
**  7®f»  f*MTi  auvefJoJ^iMiV  iTrchetyui-'^  This,  I  am  perfua- 
ded,  is  the  Sen/us  Communis  ot  Horace,  Sat.  3.  lib.  1. 
which  has  been  unobferv'd,  as  fer  as  I  can  learn,  by  any  of 
his  Commentators :  it  being  reniiarkable  withal,  that  in  this 
early  Satir  of  Horace,  before  his  latter  days,  and  when 
his  Philofophy  as  yet  inclined  to  the  lefs  rigid  Affertors  of 
Virtue,  he  puts  this  Exprcflion  (as  may  be  feen  by  the  whole 
Satir  taken  together)  into  the  Mouth  of  a  Crifpinus,  or  fome 
ridiculous  Mimick  of  that  fevere  Philofophy,  to  which  the 
Coinage  of  the  word   YLnm^iMvCvn  properly  belong'd. 

For 


of  Wit  ^wi  Humour.  105 

Court  fuch  as  that  of  R o ME,  even  under Sed:.  i- 
a  Tiberius  or  a  Nero.  But  for  Hu- ^>^V^^ 
manity  or  Senje  of  Publick  Good,  and  the 
common  Interejl  of  Mankind,  'twas  no  fuch 
deep  Satir  to  queftion  whether  this  was 
properly  the  Spirit  of  a  Court.  *Twas  diffi- 
cult to  apprehend  what  Community  fubfifted 
among  Courtiers ;  or  what  Publick  be- 
tween an  ablolute  Prince  and  his  Slave- 
Subjedts.     And  for  real  Society^  there  cou'd 

For  fo  the  Poet  again  [Sat.  4.  «y.  77.)  ufes  the  word  S  E  N- 
S  U  S,  fpeaking  ot"  thoie  who  without  Senfe  of  Manners,  or 
common  Society,  without  the  leaft  refpeft  or  deference  to 
others,  prefs  rudely  upon  their  Friends,  and  upon  all  Com- 
pany in  general,  without  regard  to  Time  or  Place,  or  any 
thing  befides  their  felfilh  and  brutifli  Humour  : 


-Haud  illud  queer entest  numjine  S E  NSU, 


Tempore  num  faciant  alieno. dvAtffQnjaft 

as  old  Lambin  interprets  it,  tho  without  any  other  Explana- 
tion; referring  only  to  the.  Sen/us  Communis  oFHorace  ia 
that  other  Satir.  Thus  Seneca,  Eplft.  105.  Odium  au- 
tem  ex  offenfa  Jic  'uitahis,  neminem  lacejfendo  gratuito  :  a  qua 
te  SENSUS  COMMUNIS  tuebitur.  And  Cicero 
accordingly,  Juflitia  partes  funt,  tion  njiolare  homines :  Vere- 
cundiat  non  offend.re.  Lib.  I .  de  Off.  It  may  be  objeded  pof- 
fibly  by  iome,  particularly  vers'd  in  the  Philofophy  above- 
mention'd,  that  the  Ko;V®-  N»f,  to  which  the  Ko/cofoHpfl-vVn 
feems  to  have  relation,  is  of  a  different  meaning.  But  they 
will  conhder  withal  how  mall  the  dillindion  was  in  that  Phi- 
lofophy, between  the  i5toA«  |/;,  and  the  vulgar  A:<rSt)7t{} 
how  generally  PaJJion  was  by  tliofe  Philoiophers  brought  un- 
der tJie  Head  of  Opinion.  And  when  they  ccnfider,  befides 
this,  the  very  Formation  of  the  word  Ko/foi'o»i,«oavfH  upon 
the  Model  of  the  other  femaliz'd  Virtues,  the  Y-vyyufjunswHt 
^tfip^dvvn,  AtKAioffuvti^  ^c.    they  will  no  longer  helitatc  on 

this  Interpreiadon  The  Reader  may  perhaps  by  this 

Note  fee  better  why  tne  Latin  Title  of  Sen/us  Communis  has 
been  given  to  this  fecond  Treatife.  He  may  obferve,  withal, 
how  the  fame  Poet  Juvenal  ufes  the  word  S en/us t  in 
Sat.  15.    ii4fc  nofiri  part  optima  Sfnfits. 

be 


io6       ^w  Essay  o;?  the  Freedom 

Part  3. be  none  between  fuch  as  had  no  other  Senfe 
W/VV  than  that  of  private  Good, 

Our  Poet  therefore  feems  not  fo  im- 
moderate in  his  Cenfure  j  if  we  confider  it  is 
the  Heart,  rather  than  the  Head,  he  takes 
to  task :  when  refle(5ting  on  a  Co«r/-Edu- 
cation,  he  thinks  it  unapt  to  raife  any  Affec- 
tion towards  a  Country ;  and  looks  upon 
young  Princes,  and  Lords,  as  the  young 
Majters  of  the  World ;  who  being  indulg'd 
in  all  their  Paffions,  and  train'd  up  in  all 
manner  of  Licentioufnefs,  have  that  tho- 
row  Contempt  and  Difregard  of  Mankind, 
which  Mankind  in  a  manner  deferves, 
where  Arbitrary  Power  is  permitted,  and 
a  Tyranny  ador'd. 

*  Hac  fatis  ad  Juvenem,    que?n  nobis  fa?na 
fuperbum 
^radity    &  infatum,    plenumque  Nerone 
propinquo, 

A  PUBLiCK  Spirit  can  come  only  from 
a  focial  Feeling  or  Se7ife  of  Partnerjhip 
with  human  Kind.  Now  there  are  none 
fo  far  from  being  Partners  in  this  Sefife,  or 
Sharers  in  this  common  Affedlion^  as  they 
who  fcarcely  know  an  Equal,  nor  confider 
themfelves  as  fubjedt  to  any  Law  of  Fel- 
lowjhip  or  Community.  And  thus  Morality 
and  good  Government  go  together.    There 

*  Tuv.  Sat.  8. 

IS 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  1 07 

IS  no  real  Love  of  Virtue,  without  tbeSeft.  i, 
knowledg  of  Publick  Good,  And  where  i/'V^ 
abfolute  Power  is,  there  is  no  P  u  b  l  i  c  k. 

They  who  live  under  a  Tyranny,  and 
have  learnt  to  admire  its  Power  as  Sacred 
and  Divine,  are  debauch'd  as  much  in  their 
Religion,  as  in  their  Morals.  Fublick  Goody 
according  to  their  apprehenlion,  is  as  little 
the  Mealure  or  Rule  of  Government  in  the 
Unherfey  as  in  the  State.  They  have  fcarce 
a  Notion  of  what  is  good  or  juft,  other  than 
as  mere  PFill  and  Power  have  determin'd. 
Omnipotence,  they  think,  wou'd  hardly  be 
it-felf,  were  it  not  at  liberty  to  *  difpenfe 
with  the  Laws  of  Equity,  and  change  at 
pleafure  the  Standard  of  moral  Rectitude. 

But  notwithftanding  the  Prejudices  and 
Corruptions  of  this  kind,  'tis  plain  there 
is  fomething  flill  of  a  publick  Prmcip/e, 
even  where  it  is  moft  perverted  and  de- 
prefs'd.  The  worit  of  Magiftracys,  the 
mere  Defpotick  kindy  can  fhew  fufficient 
Inftances  of  Zeal  and  AiFed:ion  towards  it. 
Where  no  other  Government  is  known,  it 
feldom  fails  of  having  that  Allegiance  and 
Duty  paid  it,  which  is  owing  to  a  better 
Form.  The  Eaftern  Countrys,  and  many 
barbarous  Nations,  have  been  and  ftill  are 
Examples  of  this  kind.  The  perfonal  Love 
they   bear   their  Prince,    however  fevera 

*  W-  pag-  298. 
Vol.  I.  H  towards 


to8       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3. towards  them,  may  (hew,  how  natural  an 
v.^'V^*-^  Affecftion  there  is  towards  Government  and 
Order  among  Mankind.  If  Men  have 
really  no  publick  Parent,  no  Magiftrate  in 
common  to  cherifh  and  protect  'em,  they 
will  ft  ill  imagine  they  have  fuch  a  one ; 
and,  like  new-born  Creatures  who  have 
never  feen  their  Dam,  will  fanfy  one  for 
themfelvcs,  and  apply  (as  by  Nature 
prompted)  to  fome  like  Form,  for  Favour 
and  Protedion.  In  the  room  of  a  true 
Fofter-Father^  and  Chiefs  they  will  take 
after  a  falfe  one ;  and  in  the  room  of  a  le- 
gal Government  and  jujl  Prince^  obey  e- 
ven  a  l^yrant,  and  endure  a  whole  Lineage 
and  Succeflion  of  fuch.  > 

As  for  us  Britons,  thank  Heaven, 
we  have  a  better  Senfe  of  Government 
deliver'd  to  us  from  our  Anceftors.  We 
have  the  Notion  of  a  Publick,  and  a 
Constitution  j  how  a  Legijlative, 
and  how  an  'Executive  is  model'd.  We 
underftand  Weight  and  Meafure  in  this 
kind,  and  can  reafon  juftly  on  the  Balance 
of  Power  and  Property,  The  Maxims  we 
draw  from  hence,  are  as  evident  as  thofe 
in  Mathematicks.  Our  increafing  Know- 
ledg  {hews  us  every  day,  more  and  more, 
what  Common  Sense  is  in  Politicks: 
And  this  muft  of  neceffity  lead  us  to 
underftand. a  \\k&  Senfe  in  Morals;  which 
is  the  Foundation. 
■  •  ,      >  'Tis 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  i6p 

Sefl.  I, 
*Ti  s  ridiculous  to  fay,  there  is  any  Obli-  ^.^^VNJ 
gation  on  Man  to  adl  fociably,  or  honeft- 
ly,  in  a  form'd  Government ;  and  not  in 
that  which  is  commonly  call'd  *  the  State 
of  Nature.     For,  to  fpeak  in  the  fafhiona- 
ble  Language  of  our  modern  Philofophy: 
"  Society   being  founded  on  a  Compad;  j 
"  the    Surrender    made    of    every    Man's 
"  private  unlimited  Right,  into  the  hands 
"  of  the  Majority,  or  fuch  as  the  Majo- 
"  rity  fliou'd  appoint,  was  of  free  Choice, 
"  and  by  a  Promife."     Now   the  Promife 
it-felf  was  made  in  the  State  of  Nature  : 
And  that  which  cou'd  make  a  Promife  ob- 
ligatory in  the  State  of  Nature,  muft  make 
all  other  A6ts  of  Humanity  as  much  our 
real  Duty,  and  natural  Part.     Thus  Faith, 
yujlice,  Honefty^  and  Virtue^  muft  have  been 
as  early  as  the  State   of  Nature,   or  they 
cou'd  never  have  been  at  all.     The  Civil 
Union,  or  Confederacy,  cou'd  never  make 
Right  or  Wrong 'y  if  they  fubfifled  not  be- 
fore.    He  who  was  free  to  any  Villany  be- 
fore his  Contrail,  will,  and  ought  to  make 
as  free  with  his  Contrad:,  when  he  thinks 
fit.     The  Natural  Knave  has  the  fame  rea- 
fon  to  be  a  Civil  one  j  and  may  difpenfe 
with  his  politick  Capacity  as  oft  as  he  fees 
occafion :  'Tis  only  his  Word  ftands  in  his 

way. -A   Man   is   oblig'd    to    keep    his 

Word*        Why  ?       Becaufe  he  has  given  his 

♦  VOL.  II.  ^.306,310,  ^c. 

H  2  Word 


1 1  o       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

part  '7^,Word  to  keep  it. Is  not  this  a  nota- 

^^^^'''"^  ble  Account  of  the  Original  of  moral  Juf- 

tice,    and  the  Rife  of  Civil  Government 

and  Allegiance  1 

SECT.     II. 

BU  T  to  pafs  by  thefe  Cavils  of  a  Phr- 
lofophy,  w^hich  fpeaks  fo  much  of 
Nature  with  fo  little  meaning  ;  w^e  may 
with  juftice  furely  place  it  as  a  Principle, 
"  That  if  any  thing  be  natural^  in  any 
"  Creature,  or  any  Kind ;  'tis  that  which 
"  is  freferijathe  of  the  Kind  it-felf,  and 
"  conducing  to  its  Welfare  and  Support/* 
If  in  original  and  pure  Nature,  it  be  wrong 
to  break  a  Promife,  or  be  treacherous ;  'tis 
as  truly  ivrong  to  be  in  any  refpedt  inhu- 
man, or  any  way  wanting  in  our  natural 
part  towards  human  Kind.  If  Eating  and 
Drinking  be  natural,  Herding  is  fo  too.  If 
any  Appetite  or  Senje  be  natural,  the  Senfe 
of  Fellowfiip  is  the  fame.  If  there  be  any 
thing  of  Nature  in  that  AfFedtion  which 
is  between  the  Sexes,  the  Affection  is  cer- 
tainly as  natural  towards  the  confequent 
Offspring ;  and  fo  again  between  the  OfF- 
fpring  themfelves,  as  Kindred  and  Com- 
panions, bred  under  the  fame  Difcipline 
and  Oeconomy.  And  thus  a  Clan  or  Tribe 
is  gradually  form'd ;  a  Publick  is  recog- 
niz'd  ^:  and  befides  the  Pleafure  found  in 
focial  Entertainment,  Language,  and  Dif- 

courfe. 


of  Wit  anA  Humour.  1 1 1 

courfe,  there  is  fo  apparent  a  Neceflity  for  Sedt.  2. 
continuing  this  good  Correfpondency  and  s^v^^ 
Union,  that  to  have  no  ^enfe  or  Feeling  of 
this  kind,  no  Love  of  Country^  Community^ 
or  any  thing  in  common^  wou'd  be  the  fame 
as  to  be  infenfible  even  of  the  plaineft 
Means  of  Self-Prefervation^  and  moft  ne- 
ceiTary  Condition  of  Self -Enjoyment. 

How  the  Wit  of  Man  (hou'd  fo  puzzle 
this  Caufe,  as  to  make  Civil  Government 
and  Society  appear  a  kind  of  Invention, 
and  Creature  of  Art,  I  know  not.  For 
my  own  part,  methinks,  this  herding  Prin- 
ciple, and  ajfociating  Inclination,  is  feen  fo 
natural  and  ftrong  in  mofl  Men,  that  one 
might  readily  affirm,  'twas  even  from  the 
Violence  of  this  Paffion  that  fo  much  Dif- 
order  arofe  in  the  general  Society  of  Man- 
kind. 

Universal  Good,  or  the  Intereft  of 
the  World  in  general,  is  a  kind  of  remote 
philofophical  Objedt.  That  greater  Com- 
tnunity  falls  not  eafily  under  the  Eye.  Nor 
is  a  National  Intereft,  or  that  of  a  whole 
People,  or  Body  Politick,  fo  readily  appre- 
hended. In  lefs  Partys,  Men  may  be  in- 
timately converfant  and  acquainted  with 
one  another.  They  can  there  better  tafte 
Society,  and  enjoy  the  common  Good  and 
Intereft  of  a  more  contracted  Publick. 
They  view  the  whole  Compafs  and  Extent 
H  3  of 


Ill       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3. of  their  Community;  and  fee,  and  know 
t/'VN.i''  particularly  whom  they  ferve,  and  to  what 
end  they  affociate  and  conj'pire.  All  Men 
have  naturally  their  fhare  of  this  combining 
Principle :  and  they  who  are  of  the  fpright- 
lieft  and  moil  a(5live  Facultys,  have  fo  large 
a  {hare  of  it,  that  unlefs  it  be  happily  di- 
reded  by.  right  Reafon,  it  can  never  find 
Exercife  for  it-felf  in  fo  remote  a  Sphere 
as  that  of  the  Body  Politick  at  large.  For 
here  perhaps  the  thoufandth  part  of  thofe 
whofe  Interefts  are  concern'd,  are  fcarce  fo 
much  as  known  by  fight.  No  vifible  Band 
is  form'd  ;  no  ftridl  Alliance :  but  the  Con- 
jundion  is  made  with  diiFerent  Perfons,  Or- 
ders, and  Ranks  of  Men  ;  not  fenfibly,  but 
in  Idea ;  according  to  that  general  View  or 
Notion  of  a  State  or  Commonwealth, 

Thus  the  focial  Aim  is  dillurb'd,  fof 
want  of  certain  Scope.  The  chfe  Sympa- 
thy  and  confpiring  Virtue  is  apt  to  lofe  it- 
felf,  for  want  of  Diredtion,  in  fo  wide  a 
Field.  Nor  is  the  Paflion  any-where  fo 
flrongly  felt,  or  vigoroufly  exerted,  as  in 
actual  Con/piracy  or  JVar^,  in  which  the 
higheft  Genius's  are  often  known  the  for- 
warded to  employ  themfelves.  For  the 
moft  generous  Spirits  are  the  moft  combi- 
ning. They  delight  moft  to  move  in  Con^ 
cert ;  and  feel  (if  I  may  fo  fay)  in  the 
ftrongeft  manner,  the  force  of  the  confede^ 
Tilting  Charm* 

'Tis 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  1 1  ^ 

Scdt.  2. 
*T  I  s  ftrange  to  imagine  that  War^  w^'^^ 
which  of  all  things  appears  the  moft  fa- 
vage,  fhou'd  be  the  Paffion  of  the  moft 
heroick  Spirits.  But  'tis  in  War  that  the 
Knot  of  Fellowfiip  is  clofeft  drawn.  'Tis 
in  War  that  mutual  Succour  is  moft  given, 
mutual  Danger  run,  and  common  Jiffediion 
moft  exerted  and  employ 'd.  For  Heroifm 
and  Fhilajithrcpy  are  almoft  one  and  the 
fame.  Yet  by  a  fmall  mif-guidance  of  the 
Affedion,  a  Lover  of  Mankind  becomes  a 
Ravager:  A  Hero  and  Deliverer  becomes 
an  Oppreffor  and  Deftroyer. 

Hence  other  Divifions  amongft  Men. 
Hence,  in  the  way  of  Peace  and  Civil 
Government,  that  Love  of  Party,  and  Sub- 
divifion  by  Cabal.  For  Sedition  is  a  kind 
of  cantonizing  already  begun  within  the 
State.  To  cantojzize  is  natural ;  when  the 
Society  grows  vaft  and  bulky  :  And  power- 
ful States  have  found  other  Advantages  in 
fending  Colonys  abroad,  than  merely  that 
of  having  Elbow-room  at  home,  or  ex- 
tending their  Dominion  into  diftant  Coun- 
trys.  Vaft  Empires  are  in  many  refpedls 
unnatural  :  but  particularly  in  this,  That 
be  they  ever  fo  well  conftituted,  the  Affairs 
of  many  muft,  in  fuch  Governments,  turn 
upon  a  very  few  ;  and  the  Relation  be  lefs 
fenfible,  and  in  a  manner  loft,  between  the 
Magiftrate  and  People,  in  a  Body  io  un- 
H  4  wieldy 


1 14      ^n  E  s  S  A  T  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3.wleldy  in  its  Limbs,  and  whofe  Members 
t/^/V  lie  fo  remote  from  one  another,  and  diftant 
from  the  Head. 

'Tis  in  fuch  Bodys  as  thefe  that  ftrong 
Factions  are  apteft  to  engender.  The  affo- 
ciating  Spirits,  for  want  of  Exercife,  form 
new  Movements,  and  feek  a  narrower 
Sphere  of  Activity,  when  they  want  Adion 
in  a  greater.  Thus  we  have  Wheels  within 
Wheels.  And  in  fome  National  Conftitu- 
tions,  notwithftanding  the  Abfurdity  in  Po- 
liticks, we  have  one  Empire  within  another. 
Nothing  is  fo  delightful  as  to  incorporate. 
DiJlin6iions  of  many  kinds  are  invented. 
Religious  Societys  are  form'd.  Orders  are 
erecftcd;  and  their  Interefls  efpous'd,  and 
ferv'd,  with  the  utmoft  Zeal  and  Paflion. 
Founders  and  Patrons  of  this  fort  are 
never  wanting.  Wonders  are  perform'd,  in 
this  wrong  focial  Spirit,  by  thofe  Mem- 
bers of  feparate  Societys.  And  the  ajfoci- 
ating  Genius  of  Man  is  never  better  proved, 
than  in  thofe  very  Societys,  which  arc 
form'd  in  oppofition  to  the  general  one 
of  Mankind,  and  to  the  real  Intereft  of 
the  State. 

I N  fliort,  the  very  Spirit  of  Faction,  for 
the  greateft  part,  feems  to  be  no  other 
than  the  Abufe  or  Irregularity  of  that  fo-- 
cial  Lovey  and  common  AffedHon^  which  is 
natural  to  Mankind.      For  the  Oppofite 

of 


of  Wit  and  Humout.  1 1 5 

■q£  Sociabknefs  is  Selfifinefs.  And  of  allSed:.  3. 
Charadlers,  the  thorow-felfifli  one  is  the  ^^^v^^ 
leaft  forward  in  taking  Party.  The  Men 
of  this  fort  are,  in  this  refpedt,  true  Men 
of  Moderation.  They  are  fecure  of  their 
Temper;  and  poflefs  themfclves  too  well, 
to  be  in  danger  of  entering  warmly  into 
any  Caufe,  or  engaging  deeply  with  any 
Side  or  Faction. 

SECT.     III. 

YOU  have  heard  It  (my  Friend!)  as 
a  common  Saying,  that  Intereji  go- 
verns  the  World.  But,  I  believe,  whoever 
looks  narrowly  into  the  Affairs  of  it,  will 
find,  that  PaJJion,  Humour^  Caprice,  Zeal, 
FaBion,  and  a  thoufand  other  Springs, 
which  are  counter  to  S elf-Inter eji,  have  as 
confiderable  a  part  in  the  Movements  of 
this  Machine.  There  are  more  Wheels  and 
Count er-PoiJes  in  this  Engine  than  are  eafily 
imagin'd.  'Tis  of  too  complex  a  kind,  to 
fall  under  one  fimple  View,  or  be  explain'd 
thus  briefly  in  a  word  or  two.  The  Stu- 
diers  of  this  Mechanifm  mufl:  have  a  very 
partial  Eye,  to  overlook  all  other  Motions 
belides  thofe  of  the  loweft  and  narroweft 
compafs.  'Tis  hard,  that  in  the  Flan  or 
Defcription  of  this  Clock-work,  no  Wheel 
or  Balance  fhou'd  be  allow'd  on  the  fide 
of  the  better  and  more  enlarg'd  Affedtions ; 
that  nothing  fhou'd  be  underflood  to  be 
I  done 


1 1 6       jin  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3. done  m  Kindnefs^  or  Generojity  \  nothing  In 
^y^V^^'  pure  Good-Nature  or  Friendjhip^  or  thro* 
any  Jocial  or  natural  Affe5iion  of  any  kind  : 
when,  perhaps,  the  main  Springs  of  this 
Machine  will  be  found  to  be  either  thefe  ve- 
ry natural  AffeBiom  themfelves,  or  a  com- 
pound kind  deriv'd  from  them,  and  retain- 
ing more  than  one  half  of  their  Nature. 

But  here  (my  Friend !)  you  muft  not 
exped;  that  I  fhou'd  draw  you  up  a  formal 
*  Scheme  of  the  PaJJions,  or  pretend  to  fhew 
you  their  Genealogy  and  Relation ;  how 
they  are  interwoven  with  one  another,  or 
interfere  with  our  Happinefs  and  Intereft. 
'Twou'd  be  out  of  the  Genius  and  Com- 
pafs  of  fuch  a  Letter  as  this,  to  frame  a  juft 
Plan  or  Model;  by  which  you  might,  with 
an  accurate  View,  obferve  what  Proportion 
the  friendly  and  natural  Aff'eBions  feem  to 
bear  in  this  Order  of  Archited:ure. 

Modern  Projedors,  I  know,  wou*d 
willingly  rid  their  hands  of  thefe  natural 
Materials ;  and  wou'd  fain  build  after  a 
more  uniform  way.  They  wou'd  new- 
frame  the  human  Heart  j  and  have  a 
mighty  fancy  to  reduce  all  its  Motions, 
Balances  and  Weights,  to  that  one  Prin- 
ciple and  Foundation  of  a  cool  and  deli- 
berate Seljijhnefs,     Men,   it  feems,  are  un- 

*  See  the  fourth  Treatife,  w's.  Inquiry  concerning  Virtue: 
VOL.  II. 

willing 


^f  Wit  an  A  Humour.  117 

willing  to  think  they  can  be  fo  outwitted,  Sed:.  3. 
and  impos'd  on  by  Nature,  as  to  be  made  t^^VNJ 
to  ferve  her  Purpofes,   rather  than   their 
own.     They  are  afham'd  to  be  drawn  thus 
out  of  them/elves^    and  forc'd   from  what 
they  efleem  their  true  Interefi, 

There  has  been  in  all  times  a  fort 
of  narrow-minded  Philofophers,  who  have 
thought  to  fet  this  Difference  to  rights,  by 
conquering  Nature  in  themfelves.  A  primi- 
tive Father  and  Founder  among  thefe,  faw 
well  this  Power  of  *  Nature^  and  under- 
flood  it  fo  far,  that  he  earneftly  exhorted 
his  Followers  neither  to  beget  Children, 
nor  ferve  their  Country.  There  was  no 
dealing  with  Nature,  it  feems,  while  thefe 
alluring  Objeds  ftood  in  the  way.  Rela- 
tions^ Friends^  Countrymen,  haws.  Politick 
Conjiitutions,  the  Beauty  of  Order  and  Go- 
vernment,  and  the  Inter eji  of  Society  and 
Mankind,  were  Ob)e(5ts  which,  he  well 
faw,  wou'd  naturally  raife  a  ftronger  Affec- 
tion than  any  which  was  grounded  upon 
the  narrow  bottom  of  mere  Self.  His 
Advice,  therefore,  not  to  marry,  nor  en- 
gage at  all  in  the  Publick,  was  wife,  and 
futable  to  his  Defign.  There  was  no  way 
to  be  truly  a  Difciple  of  this  Philofophy, 
but  to  leave  Family,  Friends,  Country, 
and  Society,   to  cleave  to  it. And,   in 

*  S„pra,  pag.  49.    ^W  VOL.  II.  80.    VOL.  III.  32, 

scod 


ii8       jin  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3. good  earneft,  who  wou'd  not,   if  it  were 

^y^Y^Happinefs  to  do  fo? The  Philofopher, 

however,  was  kind,  in  telling  us  his 
Thought.  *Twas  a  Token  of  his  fatherly 
Love  of  Mankind. 

*  'Tu  Pater,  &  rerttm  Inventor  !  Tu  patria 
nobis 
Suppeditas  pracepta  !  ' 

But  the  Revivers  of  this  Philofophy 
in  latter  Days,  appear  to  be  of  a  lower 
Genius.  They  feem  to  have  underftood 
lefs  of  this  force  of  Nature,  and  thought 
to  alter  the  Thing,  by  fhifting  a  Name. 
They  wou'd  fo  explain  all  the  focial  Paf^ 
iions,  and  natural  Affections,  as  to  denomi- 
nate em  of  -f  the  felfifh  kind.  Thus  Civi- 
lity, Hofpitality,  Humanity  towards  Stran- 
gers or  People  in  diftrefs,  is  only  a  more 
deliberate  Selfipmefs.  An  honeft  Heart  is 
only  a  more  cunning  one :  and  Honefly  and 
Good-Nature,  a  more  deliberate,  or  better- 
regulated  Self-Love,  The  Love  of  Kindred, 
Children  and  Pollerity,  is  purely  Love  of 
Self,  and  of  one's  own  immediate  Blood :  As 
if,  by  this  Reckoning,  all  Mankind  were 
not  included ;  jill  being  of  one  Blood, 
and  join'd  by  Inter-Marriages  and  Allian- 
ces ;  as  they  have  been  tranfplanted  in  Co- 
lonys,  and  mix'd  one  with  another.    And 

""  Iiucret.  lih.  3. 

t5a/r«,  p.  88.     ^«^VOL.  II.  p.  320. 

thus 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  119 

thus  Love  of  one's  Country,  and  Love  of^tft.  3. 
Mankind,  muft  alfo  be  Self-Love,  Magna-  O^VNrf 
nimity  and  Courage,  no  doubt,  are  Modifi- 
cations of  this  univerfal  Self-Love !  For 
*  Courage  (fays  our  modern  Philofopher) 
is  conjlant  Anger.  And  all  Men  (fays  -f*  a 
witty  Poet)  ivou'd  be  Cowards  if  they  durji. 

That  the  Poet,  and  the  Philofopher 
both,  were  Cowards,  may  be  yielded  per- 
haps without  difpute.  They  may  have 
fpoken  the  beft  of  their  Knowledg.  But 
for  true  Courage,  it  has  fo  little  to  do  with 
Anger,  that  there  lies  always  the  ftrongeft 
Suipicion  againft  it,  where  this  Paffion  is 
higheft.  The  true  Courage  is  the  cool  and 
calm.  The  braveft  of  Men  have  the  leaft 
of  a  brutal  bullying  Infolence ;  and  in  the 
very  time  of  Danger  are  found  the  moil 
ferene,  pleafant,  and  free.  Rage,  we  know, 
can  make  a  Coward  forget  himfelf  and 
fight.  But  what  is  done  in  Fury  or  Anger^ 
can  never  be  plac'd  to  the  account  of 
Courage.  Were  it  otherwife.  Womankind 
might  claim  to  be  ih.Q  flout  eft  Sex  :  for  their. 
Hatred  and  Anger  have  ever  been  allow'd 
the  ftrongeft  and  moil  lafi:ing. 

*  Sudden  Courage  (fays  Mr.  H  o  B  B  E  s.  Lev.  chap.  6.) 
is  Anger.  Therefore  Courage  confider'd  as  conilant,  and  be- 
longing to  a  Charafter,  muft,  in  his  account,  be  defin'd 
(onjlant  Anger,  or  Anger  conjlantly  returning. 

f  Lord  Rochester.     Satir  againji  Man. 

Other 


no       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3. 

U^VNJ  Other  Authors  there  have  been  of  a 
yet  inferior  kind :  a  fort  of  *  Diftributers 
and  petty  Retailers  of  this  Wit ;  who 
have  run  Changes,  and  Divifions,  without 
end,  upon  this  Article  of  Self -Love.  You 
have  the  very  fame  Thought  fpun  out  a 
hundred  ways,  and  drawn  into  Motto*s, 
and  Devifes,  to  fet  forth  this  Riddle  ;  That 
"  adt  as  difintereftedly  or  generoufly  as 
"  you  pieafe.  Self  ftill  is  at  the  bottom, 
"  and  nothing  elfe.'*  Now  if  thefe  Gen- 
tlemen, who  delight  fo  much  in  the  Play 
of  Words,  but  are  cautious  how  they  grap- 
ple clofcly  with  Definitions,  wou'd  tell  u8 
only  what  -f*  Self-Interefl  was,  and  deter- 
mine Happinefs  and  Goody  there  wou'd  be 
an  end  of  this  enigmatical  Wit.  For  in 
this  we  (hou'd  all  agree,  that  Happinefs 
was  to  be  purfu'd,  and  in  faft  was  always 
fought  after :  but  whether  found  in  fol- 
lowing Nature^  and  giving  way  to  common 
Affedlion  ;  or  in  fuppreffing  it,  and  turn- 
ing every  Paflion  towards  private  Advan- 

*  The  French  Tranflator  fuppofes  with  good  reafbn,  That 
our  Author,  in  this  Paflage,  had  an  eye  to  thofe  Sentences, 
or  Maxims,  which  pafs  under  the  name  of  the  Duke  d  e 
La  Rochefoucault.  He  has  added,  withal,  the 
Cenfure  of  this  kind  of  Wit,  and  of  thefe  Maxims  in  parti- 
cular, by  fome  Authors  of  the  fame  Nation.  The  Paffages 
aie  too  long  to  iniert  here :  tho  they  are  otherwife  very  juft 
and  entertaining.  That  which  he  has  cited  of  old  Mon- 
taigne, is  from  the  firft  Chapter  of  his  fecond  Effay. 

t  VOL.  IL  p.  22,  23,  ice.  78,  79,  80,  &c.  %-j,  &c. 
139,140,  &c. 

tage. 


'     of  Wit  and  Humour.  121 

tage,  a  narrow  »S^^End,  or  the  Preferva-  Sed?.  3. 
tion  of  mere  Life ;  this  wou'd  be  the  mat-  O^YN^ 
ter  in  debate  between  us.  The  Queftion 
wou'd  not  be,  "  Who  lov'd  himfelf,  or 
"  Who  not ;"  but  "  Who  lov'd  and  ferv'd 
'*  himfelf  the  righteji,  and  after  the  truefl 
"  manner." 

'Tis  the  height  of  Wifdom,  no  doubt, 
to  be  rightly  filfifi-  And  to  value  Lifcy 
as  far  as  Life  is  good,  belongs  as  much  to 
Courage  as  to  Difcretion.  But  a  wretched 
Life  is  no  wife  Man's  wifh.  To  be  without 
Honejiy^  is,  in  effe<5t,  to  be  without  natu^ 
tural  Affedlion  or  Sociablencfs  of  any  kind. 
And  a  Life  without  natural  AffeSlion^ 
Fricfjdjhip^  or  Sociablenefs^  wou'd  be  found 
a  wretched  one,  were  it  to  be  try'd.  'Tis 
as  thefe  Feelings  and  Affedlions  are  intrinfe- 
cally  valuable  and  worthy,  that  Self-Inte- 
reji  is  to  be  rated  and  efleem'd.  A  Man 
is  by  nothing  fo  much  himfelf,  as  by  his 
Temper,  and  the  Character  of  his  PaJJions 
and  AffeSlions.  If  he  lofes  what  is  manly 
and  worthy  in  thefe,  he  is  as  much  loft  to 
himfelf  as  when  he  lofes  his  Memory  and 
Underftanding.  The  leaft  ftep  into  Vil- 
lany  or  Bafenefs,  changes  the  Character 
and  Value  of  a  Life.  He  who  wou'd  pre- 
fei  ve  Life  at  any  rate,  muft  abufe  himfelf 
more  than  any-one  can  abufe  him.  And 
if  Life  be  not  a  dear  thing  indeed,  he 
who  has  refus'd  to  live  a  Villain,  and  has 

prefer'd 


122        Afi  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  3, prefer 'd  Death  to  a  bafe  Adion,  has  been 
(/VN;  a  Gainer  by  the  bargain. 

SECT.    IV. 

^TpiS  well  for  you  (my  Friend !)  that 
£  in  your  Education  you  have  had  lit- 
tle to  do  with  the  *  Philofophyy  or  Philofo-' 
fhers  of  our  days.  A  good  Poet,  and  an 
honefl  Hiftorian,  may  afford  Learning  e- 
nough  for  a  Gentleman,  And  fuch  a  one, 
whilft  he  reads  thefe  Authors  as  his  Diver- 
fion,  will  have  a  truer  relifli  of  their  Senfe, 
and  underftand  *cm  better  than  a  Pedant, 
with  all  his  Labours,  and  the  afliftance  of 
his  Volumes  of  Commentators.  I  am  fen- 
fible,  that  of  old  'twas  the  cuftom  to  fend 
the  Youth  of  higheft  Quality  to  Philofo- 
fhers  to  be  form'd.  'Twas  in  their  Schools, 
in  their  Company,  and  by  their  Precepts 
and  Example,  that  the  illuftrious  Pupils 
were  inur'd  to  Hardfhip,  and  exercis'd  in 
the  fevereft  Courfes  of  Temperance  and 
Self-denial.  By  fuch  an  early  Difcipline, 
they  were  fitted  for  the  Command  of 
others ;  to  maintain  their  Country's  Ho- 
nour in  War,  rule  wifely  in  the  State,  and 
fight  againft  Luxury  and  Corruption  in 
times  of  Profpcrity  and  Peace.    If  any  of 

■*  Our  Author,  it  feems,  writes  at  prefcnt  as  to  a  young 
Gentleman  chiefly  of  a  Court-Breeding.  See,  however,  his 
further  Sentiments  more  particularly  in  Treatife  3.  (viz. 
B O LILO^T)  infra,  pag. 333,  &c.  in  the  Notes, 

thcfc 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  1 2  j 

'  thcfe  Arts  are  comprehended  in  Univerfity-  Sed:.  4. 
Learning,  'tis  well.  But  as  fome  XJmwQV-'y^^^'^^ 
iitys  in  the  World  are  now  model'd,  they 
feem  not  fo  very  effedtuai  to  thefe  Purpofes, 
nor  fo  fortunate  in  preparing  for  a  right 
Pradice  of  the  World,  or  a  juft  Knowledg 
of  Men  and  Things.  Had  you  been  tho- 
row-pac'd  in  the  Efhicks  or  Politicks  of 
the  Schools,  I  fliou'd  never  have  thought 
of  writing  a  word  to  you  upon  Common 
Senfey  or  the  Love  of  Ma?ikitid.  I  ihou'd 
not  have  cited  *  the  Poet's  Dulce  &  Deco- 
rum.  Nor,  if  I  had  made  a  Character  for 
you,  as  he  for  his  noble  Friend,  fhou'd  I 
have  crown'd  it  with  his 

•\  Non  ille  pro  carts  Amicis, 
Ant  Patrid  timidus  perire. 

Our  Philofophy  now-a-days  runs  after 
the  manner  of  that  able  Sophifter,  who 
faid,  :}:  "  Skin  for  Skin  :  All  that  a  Man  has 
*'  will  he  give  for  his  Life."  'Tis  ortho- 
dox Divinity,  as  well  as  found  Philofophy, 
with  fome  Men,  to  rate  Lije  by  the  Num- 
ber and  Exquiiirenefs  of  the  pleafing  Sen- 
fatioiis.  Thefe  they  conilanily  fet  in  oppo- 
fition  to  dry  Virtue  and  Honefty.  And  upon 
this  foot,  they  think  it  proper  to  call  all 
Men  Fools,  who  wou'd  hazard  a  Life^  or 
part  with  any  of  thefe  pleafing  Senfatiom ; 

*  Sup.  pag.  102.  I  Hor.  Lib  4.  OJ  9. 

"^  Job,  ch.  ii.  vcr.  4. 

Vol.   I.  I  except 


124       ^»  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

J'art  3. except  on  the  condition  of  being  repaid" 
t/^VV  in  the  fame  Coin,  and  with  good  Intereft 
into  the  bargain.  Thus,  it  feems,  we  are 
to  learn  Virtue  by  Ufury ;  and  inhance  the 
Value  of  Life,  and  of  the  Pkafures  of 
Senfe,  in  order  to  be  wife,  and  to  live  welL 

But  you  (my  Friend !)  are  ftubborn  in 
this  Point :  and  inftead  of  being  brought  to 
think  mournfully  of  Death,  or  to  repine  at 
the  Lofs  of  what  you  may  fomeimes  ha- 
zard by  your  Honefty,  you  can  laugh  at 
fuch  Maxims  as  thefe  ;  and  divert  your-felf 
with  the  improv'd  Selfiflinefs,  and  philofo- 
phical  Cowardice  of  thefe  fafhionable  Mora- 
lifts.  You  will  not  be  taught  to  value  Life 
at  their  rate,  or  degrade  Honesty  as 
they  do,  who  make  it  only  a  Name.  You 
are  perfuaded  there  is  fomething  more  in 
the  Thing  than  Fajhion  or  Applaufe ;  that 
Worth  and  Merit  are  fubftantial,  and 
no  way  variable  by  Fancy  or  Will-y  and 
that  Honour  is  as  much  it-felf,  when 
adting  by  it-Jelf\  and  unfeen,  as  when  Jeen, 
and  applauded  by  all  the  World. 

Shou'd  one,  who  had  the  Counte- 
nance of  a  Gentleman,  afk  me  "  Why 
"  I  wou'd  avoid  being  nafty,  when  no- 
"  body  was  prefent?"  In  the  firft  place 
I  (hou'd  be  fully  fatisfy'd  that  he  himfelf 
was  a  very  nafty  Gentleman  who  cou'd 
afk  this  Queftioni  and  that  it  woud  be 
3  a 


of  Wit  md  Humour.  125 

a  hard  matter  for  me  to  make  him  everSedt.  4. 
conceive  what  true  Ckanlinefs  was.  How-  v*^v^^ 
ever,  I  might,  notwithftanding  this,  be 
contented  to  give  him  a  flight  Anfwer, 
and  fay,  "  'Twas  becaufe  I  had  a  Nofe." 
Shou'd  he  trouble  me  further,  and  aik 
again,  "  What  if  I  had  a  Cold  ?  Or 
«  what  if  naturally  I  had  no  fuch  nice 
«  Smell  ?"  I  might  anfwer  perhaps, 

«  That  I  car'd  as  little  to  fee  my-felf 
"  nafly^  as  that  others  fhou'd  fee  me  in 
"  that   condition."  But   what   if   ic 

were  in  the  dark  ?  Why  even  then, 

tho  I  had  neither  Nofe,  nor  Eyes,  my 
Senfe  of  the  matter  wou'd  ftill  be  the 
fame ;  my  Nature  wou'd  rife  at  the 
Thought  of  what  was  fordid :  or  if  it 
did  not,  I  fhou'd  have  a  wretched  Na- 
ture indeed,  and  hate  my-felf  for  a  Beafl. 
Honour  niy-felf  I  never  cou'd  \  whilfl  I 
had  no  better  a  fenfe  of  what,  in  reality,  I 
ow'd  my-felf,  and  what  became  me,  as  a 
human  Creature. 

Much  in  the  fame  manner  have  I 
heard  it  afk'd,  Why  f:oud  a  Man  he  hone/i 
in  the  dark?  What  a  Man  muft  Idc 

to  afls.  this  Queftion,  I  won't  fay.  But  for 
thofe  who  have  no  better  a  Reafon  for 
being  hcneft  than  the  fear  of  a  Gibbet  or 
a  Jail'^  I  fliou'd  not,  I  confefs,  much  co- 
vet their  Company,  or  Acquaintance.  And 
if  any  Guardian  of  mine  who  had  kept 
•    '  I  2  his 


\i6       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Pare  3.hisTruft,  and  given  me  back  my  Eflate 
v^v^w/  when  I  came  of  Age,  had  been  difcovcr'd 
to  have  ad:ed  thus,  thro'  Fear  only  of  what 
might  happen  to  him ;  I  fhou'd  for  my 
own  part,  undoubtedly,  continue  civil  and 
refpedtful  to  him :  but  for  my  Opinion  of 
his  Worth,  it  wou'd  be  fuch  as  the  Py- 
thian God  had  of  his  Votary,  who  de^ 
i)outly  feard  him,  and  therefore  reftor'd  to 
a  Friend  what  had  been  depofited  in  his 
hands. 

*  Reddidit  ergo  metu,  non  moribusj  G? 

tamen  omnem 
Vocem    adyti    dignam   templo,    veramque 

probavity 
ExtinBus  tot  a  pariter  cum  prole  domo^, 

I  K  N  o  w  very  well  that  many  Services 
to  the  Publick  are  done  merely  for  the  fake 
of  a  Gratuity ;  and  that  Informers  in  par- 
ticular are  to  be  taken  care  of,  and  fome- 
times  made  Pe?i/ioners  of  State.  But  I  muft 
beg  pardon  for  the  particular  Thoughts 
I  may  have  of  thefe  Gentlemens  Merit} 
and  fhall  never  beflow  my  Efteem  on  any 
other  than  the  'voluntary  Difcoverers  of 
Villany,  and  hearty  Profecutors  of  their 
Country's  Interefl.  And  in  this  refpedt, 
I  know  nothing  greater  or  nobler  than  the 
undertaking  and    managing   fonie   import 

*  Juv.  Sat.  13. 

.    -  "    tant 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  My 

tant  Accufation ;  by  which  fome  high  Cri-Se6t.  4. 
minal  of  State,   or   fome  form'd  Body  of  l/VN^ 
Confpirators  againft  the  Publick,    may  be 
arraign'd  and  brought  to  Punifliment,  thro' 
the  honeft  Zeal  and  pubhck  AfFeftion  of  a 
private  Man. 

I  KNOW  too,  that  the  mere  Vulgar  of 
Mankind  often  {land  in  need  of  fuch  a  rec- 
tifying Objecft  as  the  Gallows,  before  their 
Eyes.  Yet  I  have  nd  belief,  that  any 
Man  of  a  liberal  Education,  or  common 
Honefty,  ever  needed  to  have  recourfe  to 
this  Idea  in  his  Mind,  the  better  to  reftrain 
him  from  playing  the  Knave.  And  if  a 
Saint  had  no  other  Virtue  than  what 
was  rais'd  in  him  by  the  fame  Objedis  of 
Reward  and  Punifhment,  in  a  more  dif- 
tant  State  j  I  know  not  whofe  Love  or 
Efteem  he  might  gain  belides :  but  for  my 
own  parr,  I  fhou'd  never  think  him  wor- 
thy of  mine. 

Nee  furtum  feci,  nee  fugi^  fi  mihi  dicaf 
Servus :  Habes  pretium,   loris  non  ureris, 

aio. 
No?i  hominem  occidi :  Non  pafces  in  cruce 

corvos. 
Sum  bonus  ^  frugi :  Renuit,  negat  at  que 

Sabellus,  Hor.  Epijl,  16, 


I  3 


PART 


tiS        jin  Essay  on  the  Free, 


Part  4. 


PART    IV. 


S  E  C  T    I. 

BY  this  time  (my  Friend !)  you  may 
poflibly,  I  hope,  be  fatisfy'd,  that 
as  I  am  in  earncft  in  defending 
Kailleryy  fo  I  can  be  fober  too  in  the  Ufe 
of  it.  'Tis  in  reality  a  ferious  Study,  to 
learn  to  temper  and  regulate  that  Humour 
which  Nature  has  given  us,  as  a  more  leni- 
tive Remedy  againft  Vice,  and  a  kind  of 
Specifick  againft  Superftition  and  melan- 
choly Delulion.  There  is  a  great  difference 
between  feeking  how  to  raife  a  Laugh  from 
every  thing  j  and  feeking,  in  every  thing, 
what  juftly  may  be  laugh'd  at.  For  no- 
thing is  ridiculous  except  what  is  deform'd  : 
Nor  is  any  thing  proof  againft  Raillery^ 
except  what  is  handfom  and  juft.  And 
therefore  'tis  the  hardeft  thing  in  the  World, 
tb  deny  fair  Honesty  the  ufe  of  this 
Weapon,  which  can  never  bear  an  Edge 
againft  her-felf,  and  bears  againft  every 
thing  contrary. 


<^      of  Wit  ajid  Humour,  1 2p 

Sed:.  I, 
If  the  very  Italian  Buffoons  were  to^^'VNJ 
give  us  the  Rule  in  thefe  cafes,  we  fhou'd 
learn  by  them,  that  in  their  loweft  and  moft 
fcurrilous  way  of  Wit,  there  was  nothing 
fo  fuccefsfully  to  be  play'd  upon,  as  the  Paf- 
fions  of  Cowardice  and  Avarice,  One  may 
defy  the  World  to  turn  real  Bravery  or 
Generofity  into  Ridicule.  A  Glutton  or 
mere  Senfualift  is  as  ridiculous  as  the  other 
two  Characters.  Nor  can  an  unaffeded 
temperance  be  made  the  Subjed:  of  Con- 
tempt to  any  befides  the  grofleft  and  moft 
contemptible  of  Mankind.  Now  thefe  thr^e 
Ingredients  make  up  a  virtuous  Chara(fter : 
as  the  contrary  three  a  vicious  one.  How 
therefore  can  we  poffibly  make  a  Jeft  of 
Honefly  ? — To  laugh  both  ways,  is  nonfen- 
fical.  And  if  the  Ridicule  lie  againfl  Sot- 
tifinefs.  Avarice,  and  Cowardice ;  you  fee 
the  Confequence.  A  Man  muil  be  foundly 
ridiculous,  who,  with  all  the  Wit  imagina- 
ble, wou'd  go  about  to  ridicule  Wifdom,  or 
laugh  at  Honefly,  or  Good  Manners. 

A  Man  of  thorow  *  Good-Breedi?ig, 
whatever  elfe  he  be,  is  incapable  of  do- 
ing a  rude  or  brutal  Adtion.  He  never 
deliberates  in  this  cafe,  or  confiders  of  the 
matter  by  prudential  Rules  of  Self-Intereft 
and  Advantage.  He  ads  from  his  Na- 
ture, in  a  manner  necefTarily,   and  with-? 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  i6i,  162. 

I  4  out 


1 J o        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4.  out  Refledtlon :  and  if  he  did  not,  it  were 
l^'V^  impoffible  for  him  to  anfwer  his  Charader, 
or  be  found  that  truly  well-bred  Man,  on 
€very  occafion.  'Tis  the  fame  with  the 
honejt  Man.  He  can't  deliberate  in  the 
Cafe  of  a  plain  Villany.  A  Plum  is  no 
Temptation  to  him.  He  likes  and  loves 
himfelf  too  well,  to  change  Hearts  with 
one  of  thofe  corrupt  Mifcreants,  who  a- 
mongft  'em  gave  that  name  to  a  round 
Sum  of  Mony  gain'd  by  Rapine  and  Plun- 
der of  the  Commonwealth.  He  who  wou'd 
enjoy  a  Freedom  of  Mind,  and  be  truly 
Pojjejjor  of  himfelf  muft  be  above  the 
thought  of  flooping  to  what  is  villanous  or 
bafe.  He,  on  the  other  fide,  who  has  a 
Heart  to  (loop,  muft  neceflarily  quit  the 
thought  of  Manlinefs,  Refolution,  Friend- 
■fhipy  Merity  and  a  CharaSier  with  himfelf 
iind  others :  But  to  affed:  thefe  Enjoyments 
and  Advantages,  together  with  the  Privi- 
leges of  a  licentious  Principle  ;  to  pretend 
to  enjoy  Society ,  and  a  free  Mind,  in 
company  with  a  knavifo  Heart,  is  as  ri- 
diculous as  the  way  of  Children,  who  eat 
their  Cake,  and  afterwards  cry  for  it. 
When  Men  begin  to  deliberate  about  Dif- 
honefty,  and  finding  it  go  lefs  againft  their 
Stomach,  afk  flily,  "  Why  they  fhou'd 
**  flick  at  a  good  Piece  of  Knavery,  for  a 
«'  good  Sum  ?"  They  fhou'd  be  told,  as 
Children,  that  T!hey  can't  eat  their  Cake, 
and  have  it, 
••■'  When 


o/ Wit  and  Humonu  i^i 

Sea  I. 
When  Men,  indeed,  are  become  ac-  O^VNJ 
comp/i/h'J  Knaves^  they  are  paft  crying  fir 
their  Coke.  They  know  themfehes^  and 
are  known  by  Mankind.  'Tis  not  thefe 
who  are  fo  much  envy'd  or  admir'd.  The 
moderate  Kind  are  the  more  taking  with  us. 
Yet  had  we  Senfe,  we  fhould  confider  'tis 
in  reality  the  throw  profiigate  Knave^  the 
very  compleat  unnatural  Villain  alone,  who 
can  any  way  bid  for  Happinefs  with  the 
honeji  Man.  True  Intereft  is  wholly  on 
one  fide,  or  the  other.  All  between  is  *  In- 
confiftency,  Irrefolution,  Remorfe,  Vexa- 
tion, and  an  Ague-Fit :  from  hot  to  cold  3 
from  one  Paffion  to  another  quite  con- 
trary ;  a  perpetual  Difcord  of  Life  j  and 
an  alternate  Difquiet  and  Self-diflike.  The 
only  Reft  or  Repofe  muft  be  thro'  ojie^ 
determin'd,  conliderate  Refolution  :  which 
when  once  taken,  muft  be  courageoully 
kept ;  and  the  Paffions  and  AfFedions 
brought  under  obedience  to  it ;  the  Tem- 
per fteel'd  and  harden'd  to  the  Mind  ; 
the  Difpofition  to  the  Judgment.  Both 
muft  agree ;  elfe  all  muft  be  Difturbance 
and  Confufion.  So  that  to  think  with 
one's  felf,  in  good  earneft,  "  Why  may  not 

*  Our  Author's  Trench  Tranflator  cites,  on  this  cccafion, 
very  aptly  thofe  Veries  of  Horace,  ^at.  7.  Lib.  2. 


•^anto  csnjlnntior  idem 


In  z'itiis,  tanto  levius  mifcr,  ac  prior  illo 
^i  jam  contento,  jam  laxo  fune  laborat. 

"  one 


t  J 1        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4."  one  do  this  little  Villany,  or  commit 
tOOw  "  this  one  Treachery,  and  but  for  once ;" 
is  the  moft  ridiculous  Imagination  in  the 
world,  and  contrary  to  Common  Sense. 
For  a  common  honeft  Man,  whilft  left  to 
himfelf,  and  undifturb'd  by  Philofophy  and 
fubtle  Reafonings  about  his  Intereft,  gives 
no  other  Anfwer  to  the  thought  of  Vil- 
lany, than  that  he  cant  pojjibly  find  in  his 
heart  to  fet  about  it,  or  conquer  the  natu- 
ral Averfion  he  has  to  it.  And  this  is  n^^ 
tural  and  jufi. 

The  truth  is ;  as  Notions  ft  and  now 
in  the  world,  with  refpec^  to  Morals,  Ho^ 
nefty  is  like  to  gain  little  by  Philofophy, 
or  deep  Speculations  of  any  kind.  In  the 
main,  'tis  beft  to  ftick  to  Common  Senfey 
and  go  no  further.  Mens  firft  Thoughts, 
in  this  matter,  are  generally  better  than 
their  fecond :  their  natural  Notions  better 
than  thofe  refin'd  by  Study,  or  Confulta- 
tion  with  Cafuifls.  According  to  common 
Speech,  as  well  as  common  Senfe,  Honefiy 
is  the  beft  Policy :  But  according  to  refin'd 
Senfe,  the  only  well-advis'd  Perfons,  as  to 
this  World,  are  errant  Knaves-,  and  they 
alone  are  thought  to  ferve  themfelves, 
who  ferve  their  PafTions,  and  indulge  their 

loofeil  Appetites  and  Delires. Such,  it 

feems,  are  the  Wife^  and  fuch  the  Wifdom  oj-' 
thiifVorld! 


An 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  133 

Sedt. 
An  ordinary  Man  talking  of  a  vile  '«--'V> 
Adtion,  in  a  way  of  Common  Senfe,  fays 
naturally  and  heartily,  "  He  wou'd  not 
"  be  guilty  of  fuch  a  thing  for  the  whole 
"  World."  But  fpeculative  Men  find  great 
Modifications  in  the  cafe ;  many  ways  of 
Evafion ;  many  Remedys ;  many  Allevia- 
tions. A  good  Gift  rightly  apply'd^  a  right 
Method  of  fuing  out  a  Pardon  ;  good  Almf- 
Houfes,  and  charitable  Foundations  eredled 
for  right  Worfhippers ;  and  a  good  Zeal 
fhewn  for  the  right  Beliefs  may  fufficiently 
atone  for  one  wrong  Fradice ,  efpecially 
when  it  is  fuch  as  raifes  a  Man  to  a  con- 
fiderable  power  (as  they  fay)  of  doing 
good,  and  ferving  the  true  Cauje. 

Many  a  good  Eftate,  many  a  high 
Station  has  been  gain'd  upon  fuch  a  bottom 
as  this.  Some  Crowns  too  may  have  been 
purchas'd  on  thefe  terms:  and  fome  great 
*  Emperors  (if  I  miftake  not)  there  have 
been  of  old,  who  were  much  afiifted  by 
thefe  or  the  like  Principles ;  and  in  return 
were  not  ingrateful  to  the  Caufe  and  Par- 
ty which  had  affifted  'em.  The  Forgers 
of  fuch  Morals  have  been  amply  endow'd : 
and  the  World  has  paid  roundly  for  its 
Philofophy  ;  fince  the  original  plain  Prin- 
ciples of  Humanity,  and  the  fimple  honeft 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  78,79,90,91. 

Precepts 


1^4        An  'Ess AY  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4.  Precepts  of  Peace  and  mutual  Love,  have, 
v^v^w  by  a  fort  of  fpiritual  Chymifts,  been  fo  fub- 
limated,  as  to  become  the  higheft  Corro- 
iives  J  and  paffing  thro'  their  Limbecks, 
have  yielded  the  ftrongeft  Spirit  of  mutual 
Hatred  and  malignant  Perfecution, 

SEC  T.    II. 

BUT  our  Humours  (my  Friend!)  in- 
cline us  not  to  melancholy  Reflexions. 
Let  the  folemn  Reprovers  of  Vice  proceed 
in  the  manner  moft  futable  to  their  Ge- 
nius and  Charader.  I  am  ready  to  con- 
gratulate with  'em  on  the  Succefs  of  their 
Labours,  in  that  authoritative  way  which 
is  allow'd  'em.  I  know  not,  in  the  mean 
while,  why  others  may  not  be  allow'd  to 
ridicule  Folly,  and  recommend  Wifdom 
and  Virtue  (if  poflibly  they  can)  in  a 
way  of  Pleafantry  and  Mirth.  I  know 
not  why  Poets,  or  fuch  as  write  chiefly 
for  the  Entertainment  of  themfelves  and 
others,  may  not  be  allow'd  this  Privilege. 
And  if  it  be  the  Complaint  of  our  Jlanding 
Reformers,  that  they  are  not  heard  fo 
well  by  the  Gentlemen  of  Faft)ion ;  if  they 
exclaim  againfl  thofe  airy  Wits  who  fly  to 
Ridicule  as  a  Protection,  and  make  fuc- 
cefsful  Sallys  from  that  Quarter  ;  why 
fhou'd  it  be  deny'd  one,  who  is  only  a 
Volunteer  in  this  Caufe,  to  engage  the  Ad- 
verfary  on  his  own  terms,  and  expofc 
-.'         "  himfelf 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  1 3  f 

himfelf  willingly  to  fuch  Attacks,  on  theSed:.  2. 
lingle  condition  of  being  allow'd  fair  Play  (•VNI 
in  the  fame  kind  ? 

B  Y  Gentlemen  of  Fajhion^  I  underftand 
thofe  to  whom  a  natural  good  Genius,  or 
the  Force  of  good  Education,  has  given  a 
Senfe  of  what  is  naturally  graceful  and  be^ 
coming.  Some  by  mere  Nature,  others  by 
Art  and  Pra6lice,  are  Mafters  of  an  Ear  in 
Mufick,  an  Eye  in  Painting,  a  Fancy  in 
the  ordinary  things  of  Ornament  and  Grace, 
a  Judgment  in  Proportions  of  all  kinds, 
and  a  general  good  Tafte  in  moft  of  thofe 
Subjects  which  make  the  Amufement  and 
Delight  of  the  ingenious  People  of  the 
World.  Let  fuch  Gentlemen  as  thefe  be  as 
extravagant  as  they  pleafe,  or  as  irregular  in 
their  Morals  ;  thev  mufl  at  the  fame  time 
difcover  their  Inconfiflency,  live  at  variance 
with  themfelves,  and  in  contradidtion  to 
that  Principle,  on  which  they  ground  their 
higheft  Pleafure  and  Entertainment. 

Of  all  other  Beautys  which  Virtiwfos 
purfue,  Poets  celebrate,  Mufcia?is  fing,  and 
Architects  or  Artijls,  of  whatever  kind, 
defcribe  or  form  ;  the  mofl  delightful,  the 
moft  engaging  and  pathetick,  is  that  which 
is  drawn  from  real  Life^  and  from  the  Paf 
fions.  Nothing  affe<5ls  the  Heart  like  that 
which  is  purely  fro7n  it-felf  and  of  its  oivn 
nature  -,   fuch  as  the  Beauty  of  SentJme?its^ 

the 


t}<J       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

part  4.  the  Grace  of  ABions,  the  Turn  of  Charac-^ 
\^^\r^terSy  and  the  Proportions  and  Features  of 
a  human  Mind,  This  Leflbn  of  Philofo- 
phy,  even  a  Romance,  a  Poem,  or  a  Play 
may  teach  us ;  whilft  the  fabulous  Author 
leads  us  with  fuch  pleafure  thro*  the  Laby- 
rinth of  the  AfFedions,  and  interefts  us, 
whether  we  will  or  no,  in  the  PafTions  of 
his  Heroes  and  Heroines : 


* 


•Angif, 


Irritaty  mulcety  falfis  terroribui  impiety 
JJt  Magus,. 

Let  Poets,  or  the  Men  of  Harmony, 
deny,  if  they  can,  this  Force  of  Nature^  or 
withftand  this  moral  Magich  They,  for 
their  parts,  carry  a  double  portion  of  this 
Charm  about  'em.  For  in  the  firft  place, 
the  very  Paflion  which  infpires  'em,  is  it- 
felf  the  Love  of  Numbers^  Decency  and 
Proportion ;  and  this  too,  not  in  a  narrow 
fenfe,  or  after  a  felfif:)  way,  (for  who  of 
them  compofes  for  hitjifelff)  but  in  a 
friendly  focial  View ;  for  the  Pleafure  and 
Good  of  others  j  even  down  to  Poftenty, 
and  future  Ages.  And  in  the  next  place, 
'tis  evident  in  thefe  Performers,  that  their 
chief  Theme  and  Subjed:,  that  which  raifes 
their  Genius  the  mofl,  and  by  which  they 
fo  effecftually  move  others,  is  purely  Man^ 
nersy  and  the  moral  Part,     For  this  is  the 

•  Hor.  E0.  I.  lilf.  2. 

EfFea, 


'^   "^of  Wit  and  Humour.  Ij7 

Effe<a;,  and  this  the  Beauty  of  their  ArtjSea.  2. 

*  in    vocal    Meafurcs    of    Syllables,    and  w^v>*^ 

*  Sounds,  to  exprefs  the  Harmony  and 
'  Numbers  of  an  inward  kind;  and  repre- 
'  fent  the  Beautys  of  a  human  Soul,  by 
'■  proper  Foils,    and   Contrarietys,   which 

*  ferve   as  Graces    in  this  Limning,    and 

*  render  this  Muiick  of  the  Pafiions  more 
'  powerful  and  enchanting." 

The  Admirers  of  Beauty  in  the  Fair 
Sex  wou'd  laugh,  perhaps,  to  hear  of  a 
moral  Part  in  their  Amours.  Yet,  what  a 
ftir  is  made  about  a  Heart  I  What  curious 
fearch  of  Sentiments,  and  tender  Thoughts  ! 
What  praifes  of  a  Humour,  a  Senfe,  a  je- 
ne-f9ai-quoi  of  Wit,  and  all  thofe  Graces 
of  a  Mind  which  thefe  Virtuofo-Lovers 
delight  to  celebrate !  Let  them  fettle  this 
matter  among  themfelves ;  and  regulate, 
as  they  think  fit,  the  Proportions  which 
thefe  different  Beautys  hold  one  to  ano- 
ther: They  muft  allow  flill,  there  is  a 
Beauty  of  the  Mind-,  and  fuch  as  is  effen- 
tial  in  the  Cafe.  Why  elfe  is  the  very 
Air  of  FooUponefs  enough  to  cloy  a  Lover, 
at  firil  fight  ?  Why  does  an  Idiot-Look 
and  Manner  deflroy  the  Effect  of  all  thofe 
outward  Charms,  and  rob  the  Fair-0?2e 
of  her  Power ;  tho  regularly  arm'd,  in  all 
the  Exaftnefs  of  Features  and  Complexion  ? 
We  may  imagine  what  we  pleafe  of  a  fub- 
ftantial  folid  part  of  Beauty :  but  were  the 

Subje<^ 


TjS       An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4.  Subjed:  to  be  well  criticized,  we  (hou'd  find, 
t/W  perhaps,  that  what  we  moft  admir'd,  even 
in  the  turn  of  outward  Features,  was  only 
a  myfterious  Expreflion,  and  a  kind  of  Sha- 
dow of  fomething  inward  in  the  Temper : 
and  that  when  we  were  ftruck  with  a  ma- 
jeflick  Air,  a  fprightly  Look,  an  Amazon 
bold  Grace,  or  a  contrary  foft  and  gentle 
one ;  'twas  chiefly  the  Fancy  of  thefe  Cha- 
raders  or  Qualitys  which  wrought  on  us: 
our  Imagination  being  bufy'd  in  forming 
beauteous  Shapes  and  Images  of  this  ratio- 
nal kind,  which  entertain'd  the  Mind,  and 
held  it  in  admiration  j  whilft  other  Paflions 
of  a  lower  Species  were  employ'd  another 
way.  The  preliminary  Addrefles,  the  De- 
clarations, the  Explanations,  Confidences, 
Clearings  j  the  Dependence  on  fomething 
mutual,  fomething  felt  by  way  of  return ; 
the  Spes  animi  credula  mutui :  all  thefe  be- 
come necefTary  Ingredients  in  the  Affair  of 
Love,  and  are  authentically  eflablifli'd  by 
the  Men  of  Elegance  and  Art  in  this  way 
of  Paflion. 

Nor  can  the  Men  of  cooler  Paflions, 
and  more  deliberate  Purfuits,  withftand  the 
Force  of  Beauty\  in  other  Subjed:s.  Eve- 
ry-one  is  a  Virtuofoy  of  a  higher  or  lower 
degree  :  Every-one  purfues  a  Grace, 
and  courts  a*VENUS  of  one  kind  or  ano- 
ther.     The  Venufiumy    the  Honcftum^    the 

*  Infra,  pag.  337.  - 

Decorum 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  ijp 

Decorum  of  Things,  will  force  its  way.Sed:.  2. 
They  who  refufe  to  give  it  fcope  in  the  no-'-'^V^ 
bier  Subjecfts  of  a  rational  and  moral  kind, 
will  find  its  Prevalency  elfewhere,  in  an 
*  inferior  Order  of  Things.  They  who 
overlook  the  tnain  Springs  of  Ad:ion,  and 
defpife  the  Thought  of  Numbers  and  Pro- 
portion in  a  Life  at  large,  will  in  the  mean 
Particulars  of  it,  be  no  lefs  taken  up,  and 
engag'd  j  as  either  in  the  Study  of  common 
Arts,  or  in  the  Care  and  Culture  of  mere 
mechanick  Beautys.  The  Models  of  Hou- 
fes,  Buildings,  and  their  accompanying  Or- 
naments ;  the  Plans  of  Gardens,  and  their 
Compartments  ;  the  ordering  of  Walks, 
Plantations,  Avenues  ;  and  a  thoufand  o- 
ther  Symmetrys,  will  fucceed  in  the  room 
of  that  happier  and  higher  Symmetry  and 
Order  of  a  Mind.  The  -f*  Species  of  Fair, 
Noble,  Handjom,  will  difcover  it-felf  on  a 
thoufand  Occafions,  and  in  a  thoufand  Sub- 
jed;s.  The  Spe5ier  ftill  will  haunt  us,  in 
fome  fhape  or  other :  and  when  driven 
from  our  cool  Thoughts,  and  frighted  from 
the  Clofet,  will  meet  us  even  at  Court,  and 
fill  our  Heads  with  Dreams  of  Grandure, 
Titles,  Honours,  and  a  falfe  Magnificence 
and  Beauty  ;  to  which  we  are  ready  to  fa- 
crifice  our  higheft  Pleafure  and  Eafe  j  and 
for  the  fake  of  which,  we  become  the  merefl 
Drudges,  and  mofl  abjed  Slaves. 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  173. 

t  VOL.  in.  /..  33.  182 186. 

Vol.  I.  K  The 


140        ^»  Essay  oit  the  Freedom 

Part  4. 

^--^V^^  The  Men  of  Pleafure,  who  feem  the 
greateft  Contemners  of  this  philofophical 
Beauty,  are  forc'd  often  to  confefs  her 
Gharms.  They  can  as  heartily  as  others 
commend  Honejiy  ;  and  are  as  much  ftruck 
with  the  Beauty  of  a  generous  Fart,  They 
admire  the  Thing  it-felf,  tho  not  the 
Means.  And,  if  poflible,  they  wou'd  fo 
order  it,  as  to  make  Probity  and  Luxury 
agree.  But  the  Rules  of  Harmony  will 
not  permit  it.  The  Diflbnancys  are  too 
ftrong.  However,  the  Attempts  of  this 
kind  are  not  unpleafant  to  obferve.  For 
tho  fome  of  the  voluptuous  are  found  for- 
did Pleaders  for  Bafenefs  and  Corruption 
of  every  fort ;  yet  others,  more  generous, 
endeavour  to  keep  meafures  with  Ho- 
nefly ;  and  underftanding  Pleafure  better, 
are  for  bringing  it  under  fome  Rule. 
They  condemn  thh  manner  :  they  praife 
the  other,  "  So  far  was  right :  but  further, 
"  wrong.  Such  a  Cafe  was  allowable  : 
"  but  fuch  a  one  not  to  be  admitted." 
They  introduce  a  Jujiice^  ^nd  an  Order  in 
their  Pleafures.  They  wou'd  bring  Reajon 
to  be  of  their  Party,  account  in  fome  man- 
ner for  their  Lives,  and  form  themfelves 
to  fome  kind  of  Confonancy,  and  Agree- 
ment :  Or  fhou'd  they  find  this  impraSiea- 
ble  on  certain  terms,  they  wou'd  chufe  to 
facrifice  their  own  Pleafures  to  thofe  which 
arife  from  a  generous  Behaviour,  a  Regu- 
larity 


of  Wit  anS,  Humour.  141 

larity  of  Conduct,    and  a   Confiflency    of  Sed-.  2. 
Life  and  Manners :  C/V^ 

*  Bit  I'erce  mimerofque   modofqiie  edifcere 
vitce. 

Other  Occaiions  will  put  us  upon  this 
Thought :  but  chiefly  a  ftrong  View  of  M^- 
rity  in  a  generous  CharaSler^  oppos'd  to 
fome  deteftably  "o'lle  one.  Hence  it  is  that 
among  Poets,  the  Satirijts  feldom  fail  in 
doing  Juftice  to  Virtue.  Nor  are  any  of 
the  nobler  Poets  falfe  to  this  Caufe.  Even 
modern  Wits,  whofe  Turn  is  all  towards 
Gallantry  and  Pleafure,  when  bare-fac'd 
Villany  {lands  in  their  way,  and  brings  the  , 
contrary  Species  in  view,  can  ling  in  paffio- 
nate  flrains  the  Praifes  of  plain  Honejiy, 

When  we  are  highly  Friends  with  the 
World,  fuccefsful  with  the  Fair,  and  prof- 
perous  in  the  poiTefTion  of  other  Beautys ; 
we  may  perchance,  as  is  ufual,  defpife  this 
fober  Miftrefs.  But  when  we  fee,  in  the 
iiTue,  what  Riot  and  Excefs  naturally  pro- 
duce in  the  World  ;  when  we  find  that 
by  Luxurfs  means,  and  for  the  fervice  of 
vile  Interefts,  Knaves  are  advanc'd  above 
us,  and  the  -f-  vileft  of  Men  prefer'd  before 
the  honefteft  j  we  then  behold  Virtue 
in  a  new  Light,    and  by  the  affiftance  of 

*  Hor.  Epip.  2.  lib.  2. 

t  VOL.  in.  p.  308, 309. 

K  2  fuch 


142.       ^n  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4.fuchaFoil,  can  difcern  the  Beauty  ofJFfo- 
^.^^/"^  nc/iy,     and   the  reahty    of   thofe   Charms, 
which  before  we  underilood  not  to  be  ei- 
ther natural  or  powerful. 

SECT.     III. 

AN  D  thus,  after  all,  the  moft  natural 
Beauty  in  the  World  is  Honejiy,  and 
moral  'Truth.  For  all  Beauty  is  Truth. 
True  Features  make  the  Beauty  of  a  Face ; 
and  true  Proportions  the  Beauty  of  Archi- 
te(3:ure  ;  as  true  Meafures  that  of  Harmo- 
ny and  Mufick.  In  Poetry,  which  is  all 
Fable,  Truth  ftill  is  the  Perfedlion.  And 
whoever  is  Scholar  enough  to  read  the 
antient  Philofopher,^  or  his  *  modern  Co- 
pifts,  upon  the  nature  of  a  Dramatick  and 
Epick  Poem,  will  eafily  underfland  -f-  this 
account  of  Truth, 

A  Painter,  if  he  has  any  Genius, 
underilands  the  Truth  and  Unity  of  De- 
lign }  and  knows  he  is  even  then  unnatu- 
ral, when  he  follows  Nature  too  dole, 
.'  and  llriitly  copys  Life.  For  his  Art  al- 
lows him  not  to  bring  All  Nature  into  his 

*  The  French  Tranflator,  no  doubt,  has  juftly  hit  our  Au- 
thor's Thought,  by  naming  in  liis  Margin  the  excellent  Bos- 
s  u  /iu  Poane  Epique ;  who  in  that  admirable  Comment  and 
Explanation  of  Aristotle,  has  perhaps  not  only  ftiewn 
himfelf  the  greateft  of  the  French  Criticks,  but  prefented  the 
World  with  a  View  of  antient  Literature  and  juft  Writing, 
beyond  any  other  Modern  of  whatever  Nation. 

't  VOL.  in.  /.  180,  181,  182,  183,  2G0,  &c. 

Piece, 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  14J 

Piece,  but  a  Fart  only.  However,  hisSe(ft.  3. 
Piece,  if  it  be  beautiful,  and  carrys  Truths  l/VX^ 
muft  be  a  Whole,  by  it-felf,  compleat,  in- 
dependent, and  withal  as  great  and  com- 
prehenlive  as  he  can  make  it.  So  that 
Particulars,  on  this  occafion,  muft  yield  to 
the  general  Defign  j  and  all  things  be  fub- 
fervient  to  that  which  is  principal :  in 
order  to  form  a  certain  Eajincfs  of  Sight ; 
a  "iimple,  clear,  and  *  united  View,  which 
wou'd  be  broken  and  difturb'd  by  the  Ex- 
preflion  of  any  thing  peculiar  or  diftindl:. 


No 


w 


*  The  li  ^EviTvvo'xJov  -,   as  the  great  Mailer  of  Arts  calls 
it,  in  his  Poeticks,  cL  23.  but  particularly  ch.  7.  where  he 
Ihews,  "  That  the  70  KctAof.  the  Beautiful,  or  the  Sublime, 
"  in  thefe  above-iaention'd  Arts,  is  from  the  Exprelhon  of 
"  Greatnefs   with  Order:    that    is    to    fay,    exhibiting  the 
"  Principal  ov  Main  of  what  is  defign'd,  in  the  very  largcll 
"  Proportions  in  which  it  is  capable  of  being  view'd.     For 
*'  when  it  is  gigantick,  'tis  in  a  manner  out  of  fight,  and 
"  can  be  no  way  comprehended  in  that  fimple  and  united 
*'  Ficnv.      As,  on  the  contrary,    when  a  Piece   is  of  the 
*'  Miniature-kind  ;  when  it  runs  into  the  Detail,  and  nice 
*'  Delineation  of  every  little  Particular ;   'tis,  as   it  were, 
*'  invifible,    for    the    fame    reafon  ;    becaufe    the    Jummar-^ 
*'  Beauty,  the  WHOLE  it-felf,  cannot  be  comprehended 
*'  in  that  ONE   united  Fie^  ;  which  is  broken  and  loll  by 
*'  the  neceflary  attraftion  of  the  Eye  to  every  Imall  and 
*'  fubordinate  Part.     In  a  poetick  Syllem,  the  fame  regard 
"  muft  be  had  to  the  Memory,  as  in  Painting  to  the  Eye. 
**  The  Dramatick  kind  is  confin'd  within  the  convenient 
*'  and  proper  time  of  a  Speftacle.     The  Epick  is  left  more 
"  at  large.     Each  Work,  however,  muft  aim  at  Vapiefs, 
•'  and  be  as  great,  and  of  as  long  duration  as  poffible  ;  but 
"  fo  as  to  be  comprehended,   as  to  the  main  ot  it,  by  one 
*'  eafy   Glance  or  Retrofpeft  of  Memory.      And  this   the 
*'  Philofopher  calls,    accordingly,    the  -tt)  'FwpMftocsulfii'-" 
I  cannot  better  tranflate  the  Paflage  than  as  I  aa^e  done  in 
thefe  explanatory  Lines.     For  befides  v/hat  relates  to  mere 
K  3  Art, 


144        -^^  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4.         • 

{yV^  Now  the  Variety  of  Nature  is  fuch  as 
to  diftinguifh  every  thing  (he  forms,  by 
a  peculiar  original  Characfter  -,  which,  if 
flridlly  obferv'd,  will  make  the  Subject 
appear  unlike  to  any  thing  extant  in  the 
World  befides.  But  this  EfFedt  the  good 
Poet  and  Painter  feek  induftrioufly  to  pre-: 
vent.  They  hate  Minutenefs,  and  are  a- 
fraid  of  Singularity  ;  which  wou'd  make 
their  Images,  or  Charaders,  appear  capri- 
cious and  fantaflical.  The  mere  Face- 
Painter,  indeed,  has  little  in  common  with 
the  Poet }    but,  like  the  mere  Hiftorian, 


Art,  the  philofophical  Senfe  of  the  Original  is  fo  majdlick, 
and  the  whole  I'reatife  fo  mafterly,  that  when  I  find  even 
the  Latin  Interpreters  come  fo  fhort,  I  fhou'd  be  vain  to 
attempt  any  thing  in  our  own  Language.  I  wou'd  only 
add  a  fmall  Remark  of  my  own,  which  may  perhaps  be 
iioticM  by  the  Studiers  of  Statuary  and  Painting  :  That  the 
CTeatefl  of  the  antient  as  well  as  modern  Artilts,  were  ever 
inclined  to  follow  this  Rule  of  the  Philofopher ;  and  when 
they  err'd  in  their  Dejigns,  or  Draughts,  it  was  on  the  fide 
of  Greatnefs,  by  running  into  the  unfizable  and  gigantick, 
rather  than  into  the  mhiute  and  delicate.  Of  this,  Mich. 
Angelo,  the  great  Beginner  and  Founder  among  the 
Moderns,  and  Zeuxis  the  fame  among  the  Antients,  may 
ferve  as  Inftances.  See  Plinv,  lib.  35.  cap.  9.  concerning 
Zeu;<is,  and  the  Notes  of  Father  Harduin  in  his 
Edition  in  ufum  Delphini,  p.  200.  on  the  words,  Depre- 
henditur  tamen  Zeuxis.,  &c.  And  again  Pliny  himfelf 
upon  EuPHRANOR,  in  the  fame  Book,  cap.  11.  p.  226. 
Doci/is,  ac  laboriofus,  ante  omttes,  is'  in  quocumque  genere 
excellens,  ac  fihi  aqualis.  Hie  primus  ^videtur  exprrjjijje 
Dignitatis  Heroum,  C^  ufurpajfe  Symmetriam.  Sed  fuit  uni- 
<verjttate  corporxm  exiliar,  capitibus  articuUfque  grandior. 
Velumiva  quoque  compofuit  de  Symmetria  ^  Cokribus,  i^c, 
Vj4-  iafr»»  p-  340,  341,  342.  in  tbc  Notes. 


copys 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  145 

copys  what  he  fees,  and  minutely  traces  Sed;.  3. 
every  Feature,  and  odd  Mark.  'Tis  other-  ^•VVJ 
wife  with  the  Men  of  Invention  and  De- 
iign.  'Tis  from  the  many  Objedls  of  Na- 
ture, and  not  from  a  particular-one^  that 
thole  Genius's  form  the  Idea  of  their  Work. 
Thus  the  beft  Artifls  are  faid  to  have  been 
indefatigable  in  ftudying  the  beft  Statues : 
as  efteeming  them  a  better  Rule,  than  the 
perfedleft  human  Bodys  cou'd  afford.  And 
thus  fome  *  confiderable  Wits  have  recom- 
mended the  beft  Poems,  as  preferable  to 
the  beft  of  Hiftorys ;  and  better  teaching 
the  Truth  of  Characlers,  and  Nature  of 
Mankind. 

Nor  can  this  Criticifm  be  thought 
high-ftrain'd.  Tho  few  confine  them- 
felves  to  thefe  Rules,  few  are  infenfible 
of  'em.  Whatever  quarter  we  may  give 
to  our  vicious  Poets,  or  other  Compofers 
of  irregular  and  ftiort-liv'd  Works ;  we 
know  very  well  that  the  ftanding  Pieces 
of  good  Artifts  muft  be  form'd  after  a 
more  uniform  way.  Every  juft  Work  of 
theirs  comes  under  thofe  natural  Rules  of 
Proportion  and  Truth.  The  Creature  of 
their  Brain  muft  be  like  one  of  Nature's 
Formation.     It  muft  have  a  Body  and  Parts 

*  Thus  the  crcat  Mailer  himfelf  in  his  Pocticks,  above 
cited  :    A/3  itj  <piho<xo^un^ov  K)  (nraJkioT^^ov  Ylcinai?  i^ooicis 

K  4  pro- 


1^6      An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4.  proportionable :  or  the  very  Vulgar  will 
^■O/'^"  not  fail  to  criticize  the  Work,  when  it  has 
neither  *  Head  nor  'Tail,  For  fo  Common 
Senfe^  according  to  juft  Philofophy,  judges 
V  of  thofe  Works  which  want  the  Juftnefs  of 
a  Whole,  and  {hew  their  Author,  however 
curious  and  exad:  in  Particulars,  to  be  in 
the  main  a  very  Bungler. 

•f*  Infelix    operis    S  u  M  M  A,    quia  fonere 

-     T  O  T  U  M 

NeJ'cit, 

Such  is  pccticaly  znd.  fuch  (if  1  may 
fo  call  it)  graphical  or  plajiick  Truth. 
Narrative,  or  htftorical  Truth,  muft  needs 
be  highly  eftimable ;  efpecially  v/hen  we 
confider  how  Mankind,  who  are  become  fo 
deeply  interefled  in  the  Subjedt,  have  fuf- 
fer'd  by  the  want  of  Clearnefs  in  it.  'Tis 
it-felf  a  part  of  moral  Truth.  To  be  a  Judg 
in  one,  requires  a  Judgment  in  the  other. 
The  Morals,  the  Charader,  and  Genius  of 
an  Author  mufl  be  thorowly  confider'd : 
And  the  Hiftorian  or  Relater  of  Things 
important  to  Mankind,  muft,  whoever  he 
be,  approve  himfelf  many  ways  to  us  ; 
both  in  refpe(St  of  his  Judgment,  Candor, 
and  Difmtereflednefs ;  e'er  we  are  bound  to 
take  any  thing  on  his  Authority.  And  as 
for  J  critical  Truths  or  the  Judgment  and 

*  VOL.  III.  /.  25,  259,  260.        t  Hor.  Epiji.  3.  lib.  3. 
X  VOL.  in.  />.  516,  320,  321,  &c. 

Deter- 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  1 47 

Determination  of  what  Commentators, Sedt.  3. 
Tranflators,  Paraphrafts,  Grammarians,  and'-'^VNJ 
others  have,  on  this  occafion,  deiiver'd  to 
us ;  in  the  midft  of  fuch  variety  of  Style, 
fuch  different  Readings,  fuch  Interpolations, 
and  Corruptions  in  the  Originals ;  fuch 
Miftakes  of  Copifts,  Tranfcribers,  Editors, 
and  a  hundred  fuch  Accidents,  to  which 
antient  Books  are  fubjeft :  it  becomes, 
upon  the  whole,  a  Matter  of  nice  Specula- 
tion  J  confidering,  withal,  that  the  Reader, 
tho  an  able  Linguift,  mufl  be  fupported 
by  fo  many  other  Helps  from  Chronology, 
natural  Philofophy,  Geography,  and  other 
Sciences. 

And  thus  many  previous  I'ruths  are  to 
be  examin'd,  and  underflood,  in  order  to 
judg  rightly  of  hijiorical  Truth,  and  of 
the  paft  Adions  and  Circumftances  of 
Mankind,  as  deiiver'd  to  us  by  antient 
Authors  of  different  Nations,  Ages,  Times, 
and  different  in  their  Charaders  and  In- 
terests. Some  moral  and  philofophical  Truths 
there  are  withal  fo  evident  in  themfelves, 
that  'twou'd  be  eafier  to  imagine  half  Man- 
kind to  have  run  mad,  and  join'd  pre- 
cifely  in  one  and  the  fame  Species  of  Folly, 
than  to  admit  any  thing  as  Truth,  which 
ihou'd  be  advanc'd  againft  fuch  natural 
Knonvledg,  fundamental  Reafon,  and  common 
^enfe,  ^ 

This 


148        An  Essay  on  the  Freedom 

Part  4. 

'^^^V^^  T  H  I  s  I  have  mcntion'd  the  rather,  be- 
ca,ufe  fome  modern  Zealots  appear  to  have 
no  better  knowledg  of  T  R u  t  h,  nor  better 
manner  of  judging  it,  than  by  counting 
Nofes.  By  this  Rule,  if  they  can  poll  an 
indifferent  Number  out  of  a  Mob ;  if  they 
can  produce  a  Set  of  Lancajhire  Noddles, 
remote  provincial  Head-pieces,  or  vifionary 
Aflemblers,  to  atteft  a  Story  of  a  Witch 
upon  a  Broomjiick,  and  a  Flight  in  the  Air ; 
they  triumph  in  the  folid  Proof  of  their 
nev^^  Prodigy,  and  cry.  Magna  eft  Veritas 
(«?  pravalekit ! 

Religion,  no  doubt,  is  much  indebt- 
ed to  thefe  Men  of  Prodigy ;  who,  in  fuch 
a  difcerning  Age,  wou'd  fet  her  on  the  foot 
'  of  popular  Tradition;  and  venture  her  on 
the  fame  bottom  v^^ith  Parifh-Tales,  and 
goffiping  Storys  of  Imps,  Goblins,  and 
Demoniacal  Pranks,  invented  to  fright 
Children,  or  make  Pradlice  for  common 
Exorcifts,  and  Cunning-Men  !  For  by  that 
Name,  you  know,  Country  People  are 
us*d  to  call  thofe  Dealers  in  Myftery,  who 
are  thought  to  conjure  in  an  honejl  way^ 
and  foil  the  Devil  at  his  own  Weapon. 

And    now    (my  Friend !)    I  can   per- 
ceive 'tis  time  to  put  an  end  to  thefe  Re- 
fled:ions  -,  left  by  endeavouring  to  expound 
3  things 


of  Wit  and  Humour.  149 

things  any  further,  I  fhou'd  be  drawn  from  Se6t.  3. 
my  way  of  Humour,  to  harangue  pro-L/'VNJ 
foundly  on  thefe  Subjeds.  But  fhou'd  you 
find  I  had  moral iz'd  in  any  tolerable  man- 
ner, according  to  Common  Senfe,  and  with- 
out Canting  j  I  cou'd  be  fatisfy'd  with  my 
Performance,  fuch  as  it  is,  without  fearing 
what  difturbance  I  might  poffibly  give  to 
fome  formal  Cenfors  of  the  Age  5  whofe 
Difcourfes  and  Writings  are  of  another 
ftrain.  I  have  taken  the  liberty,  you  fee, 
to  laugh,  upon  fome  occafions :  And  if  I 
have  either  laugh'd  wrong,  or  been  im- 
pertinently ferious ;  I  can  be  content  to 
be  laugh  d  at,  in  my  turn.  If  contrariwife 
I  am  rail'd  at,  I  can  laugh  flill,  as  before  5 
and  with  frefh  advantage  to  my  Caufe. 
For  tho,  in  reality,  there  cou'd  be  no- 
thing lefs  a  laughing  matter,  than  the  pro- 
vok'd  Rage,  Ill-will,  and  Fury  of  certain 
zealous  Gentlemen,  were  they  arm'd  as 
lately  they  have  been  known ;  yet  as  the 
Magiftrate  has  lince  taken  care  to  pare 
their  Talons,  there  is  nothing  very  terri- 
ble in  their  Encounter.  On  the  contrary, 
there  is  fomething  comical  in  the  cafe.  It 
brings  to  one's  mind  the  Fancy  of  thofe 
Grotefque  Figures,  and  Dragon -Faces, 
which  are  i^tn  often  in  the  Frontifpiece, 
and  on  the  Corner-Stones  of^  old  Build- 
ings. They  feem  plac'd  there,  as  the  Z)f- 
fenders  and  Supporters  of  the  Edifice  j  but 
with  all  their  Grimace,  are  as  harmlefs  to 

People 


lyo  An  Essay,  &c. 

Part  4.  People  without,  as  they  are  ufelefs  to  the 
V^V^^  Building  within.  Great  Efforts  of  Anger 
to  little  purpofe,  ferve  for  Pleafantry  and 
Farce.  Exceeding  Fiercenefs,  with  perfedt 
Inability  and  Impotence^  makes  the  highefl 
Ridicule. 

I  am,  Dear  Friend, 

Affectionately  Your*s,  Gfr. 


T  R  E  A- 


»5i 


Treatise   III. 
VIZ. 

SOLILOQUT: 

O  R, 

ADVICE 

T  O    A  N 

AUTHOR. 


■Nee  jTE  quajiveris  extra. 

Perf.  Sat.  i. 


Printed  firft  in  the  Year  M.DCC.X. 
Vol.  I, 


>riiiS>,  8^ 


■  ^aa-^r*: " 


'^^ 


'5? 


lyfii^f^ 

'y*'^'*"^^^^ ii'V'vr"ii\Tfii1i''1li]1ir'r"iT'"M'''- r ""- -r"'-"T'"i; 

r^'J*iS27/cJp^'[' 

ADVICE, 

^C. 

PART    L 

SECT.     L 


I  HAVE  often  thought  how  ill-na- 
tur'd  a  Maxim  it  was,  which,  on  rpa- 
ny  occafions,  I  have  heard  from  Peo- 
ple of  good  underftanding ;  "  Thar, 
•*  as  to  what  related  to  private  Conduct, 
*'  No-one  was  ever  the  better  for  A  d  v  i  c  e." 
But  upon  farther  Examination,  I  have  re- 
folv'd  with  my-felf,  that  the  Maxim  might 
be  admitted  without  any  violent  prejudice 
to  Mankind,  For  in  the  manner  Advice 
Vol.  I.  was 


ty4  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I.  was  generally  given,  there  was  no  reafbn,' 
t/V^  I  thought,  to  wonder  it  fhou'd  be  fo  ill  re- 
ceiv'd.  Something  there  was  which  flrange- 
ly  inverted  the  Cafe,  and  made  the  Giver 
to  be  the  only  Gainer.  For  by  what  I  cou'd 
obferve  in  many  Occurrences  of  our  Lives, 
That  which  we  call'd  giving  Advice^  was 
properly,  taking  an  occalion  to  fhew  our 
own  Wifdom,  at  another's  expence.  On 
the  other  fide,  to  be  inflrudted,  or  to  re^ 
ceive  Advice  on  the  terms  ufually  prefcrib'd 
to  us,  was  little  better  than  tamely  to  af- 
ford another  the  Occafion  of  raifing  him- 
felf  a  Charader  from  our  Dcfed:s. 

In  reality,  however  able  or  willing  a 
Man  may  be  to  advife^  'tis  no  cafy  matter 
to  make  Advice  a  free  Gift,  For  to 
make  a  Gift  free  indeed,  there  mull  be  no- 
thing in  it  which  takes  from  Another,  to 
add  to  Our-felf.  In  all  other  refped:s,  to 
givey  and  to  difpenfe,  is  Generofity,  and 
Good- will :  but  to  beftow  Wifdom,  is  to 
gain  a  Maftery  which  can't  fo  eafily  be 
allow'd  us.  Men  willingly  learn  what- 
ever elfe  is  taught  'em.  They  can  bear 
a  Majler  in  Mathematicks,  in  Mufick,  or 
in  any  other  Science ;  but  not  in  Under'* 
Jiandi?2g  and  Good  Senfe, 

'Tis  the  hardeft  thing  imaginable  fof 
an  Author  not  to  appear  afiiiming  in 
this  refpe<ft.     For  all  Authors  at  large  are, 

in 


Advice  to  ah  Author  1 5  y 

in  a  manner,  profefs'd  Mafters  of  Under-ScO:.  il 
Jlanding  to  the  Age.  And  for  this  reafon,<^W* 
in  early  days.  Poets  were  look'd  upon  as 
authentick  Sages,  for  didiating  Rules  of 
Life,  and  teaching  Manners  and  good  Senfe. 
How  they  may  have  loft  their  Pretenfion,  I 
can't  fay.  'Tis  their  peculiar  Happinefs  and 
Advantage,  not  to  be  oblig'd  to  lay  their 
Claim  openly.  And  if  whilft  they  profefs 
only  to  pleafe,  they  fecretly  advife,  and 
give  Inftruclion  ;  they  may  now  perhaps, 
as  well  as  formerly,  be  efteem'd,  with  juf- 
tice,  the  beft  and  moft  honourable  among 
Authors. 

Mean  while:  "  If  diSfating  and  pre- 
"  fcribing  be  of  fo  dangerous  a  nature,  in 
"  other  Authors  j  what  muft  his  Cafe  be, 
"  who  dictates  to  Authors  themfehes  T* 

T  o  this  I  anfwer  j  That  my  Pretenfion 
is  not  fo  much  to  give  Advice,  as  to  con- 
iider  of  the  JVay  and  Manner  of  advi/ing. 
My  Science,  if  it  be  any,  is  no  better  than 
that  of  a  Language-Majler,  or  a  Logician, 
For  I  have  taken  it  ftrongly  into  my  head, 
that  there  is  a  certain  Knack  or  Leger- 
demain in  Argument,  by  which  we  may 
fately  proceed  to  the  dangerous  part  of  ad- 
vifing,  and  make  fure  of  the  good  fortune 
to  have  our  Advice  accepted,  if  it  be  any 
thing  worth. 

My 


ij^  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I.         .  t  ■■,^  ■:  /:w  k 

L/^V^  My  Propofal  is  to  confider  of  this  Af- 
fair, as  a  Cafe  of  Surgery.  'Tis  Prac- 
tice^  we  all  allow,  which  makes  a  Hand. 
"  But  who,  on  this  occafion,  will  be  prac^ 
"  tisd  on  ?  Who  will  willingly  be  the 
**  firft  to  try  our  Handy  and  afford  us 
•*  the  requifite  Experience  T'  Here  lies 
the  Difficulty.  For  fuppofmg  we  had  Hof- 
pitals  for  this  fort  of  Surgery,  and  there 
were  always  in  readinefs  certain  meek  Pa- 
tients who  wou'd  bear  any  Incifions,  and 
be  prob'd  or  tented  at  our  pleafure  j  the 
advantage  no  doubt  wou'd  be  confiderable 
in  this  way  of  Practice.  Some  Infight  muft 
needs  be  obtain'd.  In  time  a  Hand  too 
might  be  acquir'd  j  but  in  all  likelihood  a 
*very  rough-one  :  which  wou'd  by  no  means 
ferve  the  purpofe  of  this  latter  Surgery, 
For  here,  a  Tendernefs  of  Hand  is  princi- 
pally requifite.  No  Surgeon  will  be  call'd, 
who  has  not  Feeling  and  CompafTion.  And 
where  to  find  a  Subjedt  in  which  the  Ope- 
rator is  likely  to  preferve  the  higheft  Te7t- 
dernefs^  and  yet  a(5t  with  the  greatefl  Refo- 
lution  and  BoldnefSy  is  certainly  a  matter  of 
no  flight  Conlideration. 

I  AM  fenfible  there  is  in  all  confidera- 
ble Projects,  at  firfl  appearance,  a  certain 
Air  of  chimerical  Fancy  and  Conceit, 
which  is   apt    to    render    the    Projectors 

fome- 


Advice  to  an  Author.  157 

fomewhat  liable  to  ridicule.  I  wou'd  there- Sedt.  i, 
fore  prepare  my  Reader  againft  this  Preju-  W'v^n.' 
dice  ;  by  alluring  him,  that  in  the  Opera- 
tion propos'd,  there  is  nothing  which  can 
juftly  excite  his  Laughter  j  or  if  there  be, 
the  Laugh  perhaps  may  turn  againft  him, 
by  his  own  confent,  and  with  his  own 
concurrence  :  Which  is  a  Specimen  of  that 
very  Art  or  Science  we  are  about  to  il- 
luftrate. 

Accordingly,  if  it  be  objeded  a- 
gainft  the  above-mention'd  PraBice^  and 
Art  of  Surgery^  "  That  we  can  no-where 
**  find  fuch  a  meek  Patient,  with  whom 
"  we  can  in  reality  make  bold,  and  for 
"  whom  neverthelefs  we  are  fure  to  pre- 
"  ferye  the  greatejl  T^endernefs  and  Regard:* 
I  affert  the  contrary  ;  and  fay,  for  in- 
ftance,  T'hat  we  have  each  of  us  Our 
Selves  to  praSiife  on.  "  Mere  Quib- 
"  ble  !  (you'll  fay :)  For  who  can  thus 
"  multiply  hLmfelf  into  two  Perfons,  and 
"  be  his  own  SubjcB  ?  Who  can  properly 
"  laugh  at  him/elf]  or  find  in  his  heart  to 
"  be  either  merry  or  fevere  on  fuch  an 
"  occafion  ?"  Go  to  the  Poets,   and 

they  will  prefent  you  with  many  Inftan- 
ces.  Nothing  is  more  common  with 
them,  than  this  fort  of  Soliloquy.  A 
Perfon  of  profound  Parts,  or  perhaps  of 
ordinary  Capacity,  happens,  on  fome  oc- 
cafion, to  commit  a  Fault.    He  is  concern'd 

for 


ijS  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I. for  It.  He  comes  alone  upon  the  Stage  5 
'-^'"WJ  looks  about  him,  to  fee  if  any  body  be 
near  ;  then  takes  himfelf  to  task,  without 
fparing  himfelf  in  the  leaft.  You  wou'd 
wonder  to  hear  how  clofe  he  pufhes  matters, 
and  how  thorowly  he  carrys  on  the  bufi- 
nefs  of  Self-diJfeBion,  By  virtue  of  this 
SoLiLOQjJY  he  becomes  two  diftind: 
Perfons,  He  is  Pupil  and  Preceptor.  He 
teaches,  and  he  learns.  And  in  good  ear- 
nefl,  had  I  nothing  elfe  to  plead  in  behalf 
of  the  Morals  of  our  modern  Dramatick 
Poets,  I  fhou'd  defend  *em  ftill  againfl  their 
Accufers  for  the  fake  of  this  very  Pra<5tice, 
which  they  have  taken  care  to  keep  up  in 
its  full  force.  For  whether  the  Practice  be 
natural  or  no,  in  refpe(ft  of  common  Cuf- 
tom  and  Ufage  ;  I  take  upon  me  to  affert, 
that  it  is  an  honeft  and  laudable  Pra(5lice  j 
and  that  if  already  it  be  not  natural  to  us, 
we  ought  however  to  make  it  fo,  by  Study 
and  Application.      »^'  \ 

"  A  R  E  we  to  go  therefore  to  the  Stage 
"  for  Edification  ?  Muft  we  learn  our 
"  Catechifm  from  the  Poets  ?  And,  like 
"  the  Players,  fpeak  aloudy  what  we  de- 
*'  bate  at  any  time  with  our-felves  alone  ?** 
Not  abfolutely  fo,  perhaps.  Tho  where 
the  harm  wou'd  be,  of  fpending  fome  Dif- 
courfe,  and  beftowing  a  little  Breath  and 
clear  Voice  purely  upon  our-fehes,  I  can't 
fee.  We  might  peradventure  be  lefs  noify 
I  and 


Advice  to  an  Author  159 

and  more  profitable  in  Company,  if  atSed.  i. 
convenient  times  we  difcharg'd  fome  of^-'^V^^ 
pur  articulate  Sound,  and  fpoke  to  our- 
felves  'uivd  voce  when  alone.  For  Com- 
pany is  an  extreme  Provocative  to  Fancy ; 
and,  like  a  hot  Bed  in  Gardening,  is  apt 
to  make  our  Imaginations  fprout  too  faft. 
put  by  this  anticipating  Remedy  of  S  o  i  i- 
L  o Qu y,  we  may  effectually  provide  againft 
the  Inconvenience. 


WE  HAVE  an  account  in  Hiftory  of 
-a  certain  Nation,  who  feem  to  have  been 
extremely  apprehenlive  of  the  Effects  of 
this  Frothinefs  or  Ventofity  in  Speech,  and 
were  accordingly  refolv'd  to  provide  tho- 
rowly  againft  the  Evil.  They  carry 'd  this 
Remedy  of  ours  fo  far,  that  it  was  not 
only  their  Cuftom,  but  their  Religion  and 
Law,  to  fpeak,  laugh,  ufe  Adtion,  gefti- 
culate,  and  do  all  in  the  fame  manner 
when  by  themfelves,  as  when  they  were 
in  Company.  If  you  had  ftol'n  upon  'em 
unawares  at  any  time,  when  they  had 
been  alone,  you  might  have  found  'em 
in  high  Difpute,  arguing  with  themfelves, 
reproving,  counfelling,  haranguing  them- 
felves, and  in  the  moft  florid  manner  ac- 
cofting  their  own  Perfons.  In  all  likeli- 
hood they  had  been  once  a  People  re- 
markably fhjent  in  ExprelTion,  much  pef- 
ter'd    with    Orators    and    Preachers,    and 

Vol.  I.  L  mightily 


\6o         Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I.  mightily  fubjedt  to  that  Difeafe  which  has 
v^'V>-'  been  fince  calFd  the  Leprojy  of  Eloquence ; 
till  fome  fage  Legiflator  arofe  amongft  'em, 
who  when  he  cou'd  not  oppofe  the  Torrent 
of  Words,  and  flop  the  Flux  of  Speech,  by 
any  immediate  Application,  found  means 
to  give  a  vent  to  the  loquacious  Humour, 
and  broke  the  force  of  the  Diftemper  by 
eluding  it. 

Our  prefent  Manners,  I  muft  own, 
are  not  fo  well  calculated  for  this  Method 
of  S  o  L I L  o  QjJ  y,  as  to  fufFer  it  to  become 
a  national  Practice.  'Tis  but  a  fmall  Por- 
tion of  this  Regimen,  which  I  wou'd  wil- 
lingly borrow,  and  apply  to  private  ufe; 
efpecially  in  the  cafe  of  Authors.  I  am 
fenfible  how  fatal  it  might  prove  to  many 
honourable  Perfons,  fhou'd  they  acquire 
fuch  a  Habit  as  this,  or  offer  to  pradife 
fuch  an  Art,  within  reach  of  any  mortal 
Ear.  For  'tis  well  known,  we  are  not 
many  of  us  like  that  Roman,  who  wifh'd 
for  Windows  to  his  Breafl,  that  all  might 
be  as  confpicuous  there  as  in  his  Houfe, 
which  for  that  very  reafon  he  had  built  as 
open  as  was  poflible.  I  wou'd  therefore 
advife  our  Probationer,  upon  his  firfl  Exer- 
cife,  to  retire  into  fome  thick  Wood,  or 
rather  take  the  Point  of  fome  high  Hill ; 
where,  befides  the  Advantage  of  looking 
about  him  for  Security,  he  wou'd  find  the 
Air  perhaps  more  rarefy'd,  and  futable  to 
Vi.i,!M:vi  the 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i6i 

the  Perfpiration  required,  efpecially  in  theSedl.  i. 
C2l(q  oi  ^  Poetical  Genius.  t/'^YNj 

*  Serif  torum  chorus  cmnis  am.at  nemus^ 
'.'^'^  fugit  urbes,  .      ,      •  . 

*Tis  remafrkable  in  all  great  Wits,  that 
they  '  have  own'd  this  Practice  of  ours, 
and  generally  defcrib'd  themfelves  as  a 
People  liable  to  fufficicnt  Ridicule,  for 
their  great  Loquacity  by  themfelves,  and 
their  profound  Taciturnity  in  Company. 
Not  only  the  Poet  and  Philofopher^  but 
the  Orator  himfelf  w^as  wont  to  have  re- 
courfe  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  confum'd  a- 
bundance  of  his  Breath,  fuffer'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 
thefe  Recejfes,  'tis  becaufe  their  Genius  is 
not  of  force  enough  :  Or  tho  it  be,  their 
Character,  they  may  imagine,  will  hardly 
bear  'em  out.  For  to  be  furpriz'd  in  the 
odd  Ad:ions,  Geftures,  or  Tones,  which  are 
proper  to  fuch  Afceticks,  I  muft  own  wou'd 
be  an  ill  Adventure  for  a  Man  of  the 
World.  But  with  Poets  and  Philofophers 
'tis  a  known  Cafe : 

*'  Hor.  EpiJ}.  2.  lib.  2. 

L  2  Aut 


i^i         An V I c E  to  an  AutKot. 

C/'Spo     *  jiut  infanit  HomOy  aut  verfus  facii-^^^ 

'■  Composing  and  Raving  muft  necefla- 
rily,  we  fee,  bear  a  refemblance.  And  for 
thofe  Compofers  who  deal  in  Syftems,  and 
airy  Speculations,  they  have  vulgarly  pafs'd 
for  a  fort  of  Profe-Poets,  Their  fecret 
I^radlice  and  Habit  has  been  as  frequently 
noted: 

■  -f*  Murmur  a  cum  fecum  &  rabiofa  Jtlen- 
tia  rodunu 

Both  thefe  forts  are  happily  indulg*d  in 
this  Method  of  Evacuation.  They  are 
thought  to  a6t  naturally,  and  in  their  pro- 
per way,  when  they  ajGTume  thefe  odd 
Manners.  But  of  other  Authors  'tis  ex- 
pedted  they  fhou'd  be  better  bred.  They 
are  obliged  to  preferve  a  more  converfi- 
ble  Habit  j  which  is  no  fmall  misfor- 
tune to  'em.  For  if  their  Meditation  and 
Refvery  be  obftruded  by  the  fear  of  a 
nonconforming  Mein  in  Converfation,  they 
may  happen  to  be  fo  much  the  worfe  Au- 
thors  for  being  finer  Gentlemen.  Their 
Fervency  of  Imagination  may  poffibly  be 
as  ftrong  as  either  the  Philofopher's  or  the 
Poet's.  But  being  deny'd  an  equal  Bene- 
fit of  Difcharge,  and  with-held  from  the 
wholefom  manner    of  Relief  in   private  j 

,  *  Hor.  Sat.  7.  lib.  2.  f  Pcrf.  Ut.  3. 

3  'tis 


Advicb  tQ  an  Authp^f  i^j 

'tis  no  wonder  if  they  appear  with  fo  much  Sedt.  r. 
Froth  and  Scum  in  publick.  .  ^..:,    ^ .         i^W 

'Tis   obfervable,    that  the  Writers  of 
Memoirs  and  Essays  are  chiefly  fub- 
je<a:  to  this  frothy  Diftemper.    Nor  can  it 
be  doubted  that  this  is  the  true  Reafon 
why  thefe  Gentlemep  entertain  the  World 
fo  laviftily  with  what  relates  tp  thmfehes. 
For  having  had  no  opportunity  of  privater 
ly  converfing  with  themfelves,  or  exerci- 
Ang  their  own  Genius^  fo  as  to  make  Acr 
quaintance  with  it,  or  prove  its  Strength ; 
they  immediately  fall  to  work  in  a  wrong 
place,    and   exhibit  on   the   Stage   of  the 
W<M-ld   that  FraBicey  which  they  fhou'd 
have  kept  to  themfelves  j  if  they  defign'd 
that  eijcher  they,  or  the  World,  fhou'd  be 
the  better  for  their  Moralitys.     Who  in- 
deed  can  endure  to  hear  an  Empirick  talk 
of  his  own  Conftitution,  how  he  governs 
and  manages  it,  what  Diet  agrees  beft  with 
it,  and  what  his  Practice  Js  with  himfelf? 
The  Proverb,  ho  doubt,  is  very  juft,  Phy- 
Jkian    cure    thy-felf\      Yet    methinks    one 
ihou'd  have  but  an  ill  time,  to  be  prefent 
jSiX.  thefe  bodily  Operations.      Nor  is  the 
fleader    in   truth    any    bett-er   entertained, 
when  he  is  oblig'd  to  affift  at  the  experi- 
mental Difcuflions   of  his   pradtifing  Au- 
thor, who  all  the  while  is  in  reality  doing 
no  better,  than  taking  his  Phyfick  in  pub- 
Jick. 

L  3  For 


p^j^j  .j;^iUiji-jr  til  Hi 5  7/  'i/j-xrqR  y^rb  V-  ;.■/-■  tow  on  go* 

t/VNJ  For  this  reafon,  IliBId  it  very  Indecent 
for  any  one  to  publlfh  his  Meditations,  Oc- 
cafional  ReJkBions,  Solitary  Thoughts,  or 
other  fuch  Exercifes  as  pome  under  the 
notion  of  x\i\%- felf-dtfcourjing  PraBice.  And 
the  modelleft  Title  I  can  conceive  for 
fuch  Works,  wou'd  be  that  of  a  certaiil 
Author,  w^ho  call'd  them  his  Cruditys.  *Tis 
the  Unhappinefs  of  thofe  Wits,  who  con*- 
ceive  fuddenly,  but  Without  being  able  to 
go  out  their  full  tittle,  that  aftef  many 
Mifcarriages  and  Abortiohs,  they  ckri' bring 
nothing  well-fhapen  or  p^rfe<ft  into  the 
World.  They  are  not  however  the  lefs 
fond  of  their  OfF-fpring,  which  in  a  manner 
they  beget  in  publick.-  For  fo  publick-fpi- 
rited  they  are,  that  they  can  never  aiford 
themfelves  the  leaft  tii*ne  to  think  in  pri*. 
vate,  for  their  own  particular  benefit  and 
ufe.  For  this  reafon,  tho  they  are  often 
retir'd,  they  are  never  by  themfelves.  The 
World  is  ever  of  the  Party.  They  have 
their  Author-CharaBer'mvio.'w,  and  are  al- 
ways confidcring  how  this  or  that  Thought 
wou'd  ferve  to  compleat  fome  Set  of  Co«- 
templationsi  or  furnifh  out  the  Common- 
Place-Book,  from  whence  thefe  treafur'd 
Riches  are  to  flow  in  plenty  pn  the  ne- 
ceffitous  World,  '^  .*«  ^':^>i^n.:^'i<  i   kr 

But  if  our  Candldati^s 'for  Auth&i^ip 

|iappen  to  be  of  xh^JanBiJfd  kind;   'tis 

*s  '-i  *  '  id  no^ 


Advice  to  an  Author.  \6^ 

not  to  be  imagin'd  how  much  farther  ftillSed:.  i. 
their  Charity  is  apt  to  extend.  So  exceed-  O^V^ 
ing  great  is  their  Indulgence  and  Tender- 
nefs  for  Mankind,  that  they  are  unwilUng 
the  leaft  Sample  of  their  devout  Exercife 
fhou'd  be  loft.  Tho  there  are  already  fo 
many  Formularys  and  Rituals  appointed 
for  this  Species  of  Soliloquy  j  they  can  al- 
low nothing  to  lie  conceal'd,  which  pafles 
in  this  religious  Commerce  and  way  of 
Dialogue  between  them  and  their  Soul. 

These  may  be  term'd  a  fort  of  Pfeudo- 
Afceticks,  who  can  have  no  real  Converfe 
either  with  themfelves,  or  with  Heaven  j 
whilft  they  look  thus  a-fquint  upon  the 
World,  and  carry  Tattles  and  Editions  along 
with  'em  in  their  Meditations.  And  altho 
the  Books  of  this  fort,  by  a  common 
'*Idiom,  are  call'd  good  Books ;  the  Authors, 
for  certain,  are  a  forry  Race  :  For  reli- 
gious Cruditys  are  undoubtedly  the  worft 
of  any.  *  A  Saint-Kuihov  of  all  Men 
leaft  values  Politenefs.  He  fcorns  to  con- 
fine that  Spirit,  in  which  he  writes,  to 
Rules  of  Criticifm  and  profane  Learning. 
Nor  is  he  inclin'd  in  any  refped:  to  play 
the  Critick  on  himfelf,  or  regulate  his 
Style  or  Language  by  the  Standard  of  good 
Company,  and  People  of  the  better  fort. 
He   is   above    the   Conlideration    of   that 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  239,  240,  241.  in  the  Not^s. 

L  4  which 


1 6^6  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I.  which  in  a  narrow  fenfe  we  call  Manner's^ 
''^^'^  Nor  is  he  apt  to  examine  any  other  Faults 
than  thofe  which  he  calk  ^tm :  Tho  a  Sin- 
ner agairift  Good-Breeding,  and  the  Laws 
of  Decency,  will  no  more  be  efteem'd 
a  good  Author^  than  will  a  Sinner  againft 
Crammar,  good  Argument,  or  good  Senfe. 
And  if  Mod-eration  and  T'emper  are  not  of 
the  Party  with  a  Writer ;  let  his  Caufe  be 
ever  fo  good,  I  doubt  whether  he  will  be 
able  to  recbrriaiend  it  with  great  advantage 
to  the  World. 

On  this  account,  I  wou'd  principally 
recommend  our  Exercife  of  Self-Converje 
to  all  fuch  Perfons  as  are  addicted  to  write 
after  the  matiiier  of  holy  Advifers-,  efpe- 
cially  if  they  lie  under  an  indifpenfible  Ne- 
teffity  of  being  'Talkers  or  Haranguers  m 
the  fame  kind.  For  to  difcharge  frequent- 
ly and  vehemently  in  publick,  is  a  great 
hindrance  to  the  way  of  private  Exercife ; 
which  coniifts  chiefly  in  Controul.  But 
where,  inftead  of  Controul,  Debate  or 
Argument,  the  chief  Exercife  of  the  Wit 
•coniifts  in  uncoritroulable  Harangues  and 
Reafonings,  which  muft  neither  be  quef- 
tion'd  nor  contradicted ;  there  is  great 
danger,  left  the  Party,  thro'  this  Habit, 
ftiou'd  fuffer  much  by  Cruditys,  Indi- 
geftions,  Choler,  Bile,  and  particularly  by 
a  certain  Tumour  or  tlatulency^  which  ren- 
ders him  of  all  Men  the  leaft  able  to  ap- 
'*  N  ply 


Advice  to  an  Author.  \6/ 

ply  the  wholefom  Regimen  of  Self-Prafliee.  Se<5t.  t, 
*Tis  no  womier  if  fuch  quaint  Pradtitioners  l^VNi 
grow  to  an  enormous  Size  of  Abfurdity^ 
whilft  they  continue  in  the  reverfe  of  that 
Pradlice,  by  which  alone  we  corredt  the 
Redundancy  of  Humours,  and  chaflea  the 
Exuberance  of  Conceit  and  Fancy. 

A  REMARKABLE  Inftancc  of  the  want 
of  this  fovereign  Remedy  may  be  drawn 
from  our  common  great  Talkers^  who  en- 
grofs  the  greateft  part  of  the  Converfations 
of  the  World,  and  are  the  forwardeft  to 
fpeak  in  publick  Aflemblys.  Many  of 
thefe  have  a  fprightly  Genius,  attended 
with  a  mighty  Heat  and  Ebullition  of  Fan- 
cy. But  'tis  a  certain  Obfervation  in  our 
Science,  that  they  who  are  great  Talkers 
in  Compa?iy^  have  never  been  any  Talkers 
by  thejiijehcsy  nor  us'd  to  thefe  private  Dif- 
cuffions  of  our  home  Regimen.  For  which 
reafon  their  Froth  abounds.  Nor  can  they 
difcharge  any  thing  without  fome  mixture 
of  it.  But  when  they  carry  their  Attejnpts 
beyond  ordinary  Difcourfe,  and  wou'd  rife 
to  the  Capacity  of  Authors,  the  Cafe  grows 
worfe  with  'em.  Their  Page  can  carry 
none  of  the  Advantages  of  their  Per/on. 
They  can  no- way  bring  into  Paper  thofe 
Airs  they  give  themfelves  in  Difcourfe. 
The  Turns  of  Voice  and  Adion,  with 
which  they  lielp  out  many  a  lame  Thought 
and  incoherent  Sentence,  muft  here  be  laid 

afide ; 


i6t  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  i.afide;  and  the  Speech  taken  to  pieces, 
v^>rw/ compar'd  together,  and  examin'd  from 
head  to  foot.  So  that  unlefs  the  Party  has 
been  us'd  to  play  the  Critick  thorowly  up- 
on himfelf,  he  will  hardly  be  found  proof 
againft  the  Criticifms  of  others.  His 
Thoughts  can  never  appear  very  correct; 
unlefs  they  have  been  us'd  to  found  Cor- 
rection by  themfelves,  and  been  v^^ell  form'd 
and  difciplin'd  before  they  are  brought  in- 
to the  Field.  'Tis  the  hardefl  thing  in  the 
world  to  be  a  good  I'hinker^  without  being 
a  ftrong  Self-Examiner,  and  thorow-pacd 
Dialogijly  in  this  folitary  way. 

SECT.     II. 

■  i,  ■ 

BUT  to  bring  our  Cafe  a  little  clofer 
ftill  to  Morals.  I  might  perhaps  very 
juftifiably  take  occafion  here  to  enter  into 
a  fpacious  Field  of  Learning,  to  {hew  the 
Antiquity  of  that  Opinion,  "  That  we 
"  have  each  of  us  a  Damon,  GeiKus,  Angela 
"  or  Guardian-Spirit,  to  whom  we  were 
'*  ftridtly  join'd,  and  committed,  from  our 
**  earlicfl  Dawn  of  Reafon,  or  Moment 
"  of  our  Birth."  This  Opinion,  were  it 
literally  true,  might  be  highly  ferviceable, 
no  doubt,  towards  the  Eflablifhment  of 
our  Syftem  and  Dodtrine.  For  it  wou'd 
infallibly  be  prov'd  a  kind  of  Sacrilege  or 
Impiety  to  flight  the  Company  of  fo  Di- 
vine a  Gueji,  and  in  a  manner  banifh  him 


A  D  V I  c  ^"'^  fd  an  Author.  1 6p 

bur  Breaft,  by  refufing  to  enter  with  himSe<5l.  2. 
into  thofe  fecret  Conferences,  by  which  a-  U<^VVi 
lone  he  cou'd  bs  enabled  to  become  our 
Advifer  and  Guide,  But  I  fhou'd  efteem  it 
unfair  to  proceed  upon  fuch  an  Hypothefis 
as  this :  when  the  very  utmoft  the  wife 
Antients  ever  meant  by  this  Dtemon-Com~ 
panion,  I  conceive  to  have  been  no  more 
than  enigmatically  to  declare,  "  That  we 
^*  had  each  of  us  a  Patient  in  otir-felf-,  that 
**  we  were  properly  our  own  Subjects  of 
'*  Pradice ;  and  that  we  then  became  due 
'*  Practitioners,  when  by  virtue  of  an'  inti- 
*'  mate  Reccjs  we  cou'd  difcover  a  certain 
**  Duplicity,  of  Soul,  and  divide  our-lelves 
"  into  two  FartysV  One  of  thefe,  as  they 
fuppos'd,  wou'd  immediately  approve  him- 
Telf  a  venerable  Sage-,  and  with  an  air  of 
Authority  ered:  himfelf  our  Counfellor  and 
Governor  ;  whilft  the  other  Party,  who 
had  nothing  in  him  befides  what  was  bafe 
and  fervikj  wou'd  be  contented  to  follow 
and  obey. 

According  therefore  as  this  Recefi 
"was  deep  and  intimate,  and  the  Dual  Num- 
ber pradically  form'd  in  Us,  we  were  fup- 
pos'd to  advance  in  Morals  and  true  Wif- 
dom.  This,  they  thought,  was  the  only 
way  of  compojing  Matters  in  our  Breail, 
and  eftablifhing  that  Subordinacy,  which 
alone  cou'd  make  Us  agree  with  our-feives, 
and  be  of  a-piece  within.     They  efteem 'd 

this 


T70  AdyicBt  to  an  Author. 

Part  I. this  a  more  religious  Work  than  any  Pray- 
{y>/\)ers,  or  other  Duty  in  the  Temple.     And 
this  they  advis'd  Us  to  carry  thither,  as  the 
beft  OiBfering  which  eou'd  be  made  : 

*  Compojifum  ju^y  J<yque  animiy  janBofquc 

recejfus 
c,'^  Mentis, 

This  was,  among  the  Antients,  that 
celebrated  -D^^^/V^  Infcription,  Re  cog* 
NiasE  Your-self:  which  was  as  much 
as  to  fay,  Divide  your-felf^  or  Be  Two^ 
For  if  the  Divifion  were  rightly  made,  all 
within  wou'd  of  co^rfe,  they  thought,  be 
rightly  underftood,  and  prudently  manag'd. 
Such  Confidence  they  had  in  this  Home- 
DiakB  of  S o L I L o Qu  Y.  For  it  was  ac- 
counted the  peculiar  of  Philofophers  and 
wife  Men,  to  be  able  to  hold  them/elves  in 
Talk,  And  it  was  their  Boaft  on  this  ac- 
count, "  That  they  were  never  lefs  alone, 
"  than  when  by  themfehes."  A  Knave, 
they  thought,  cou'd  never  be  by  himfelf. 
Not  that  his  Confcience  was  always  fure 
of  giving  him  difturbance ;  but  he  had  not, 
they  fuppos'd,  fo  much  Intereft  with  him- 
felf, as  to  exert  this  generous  Faculty,  and 
raife  himfelf  a  Companion ;  who  being  fair- 
ly admitted  into  Partnerfhip,  wou'd  quickly 
mend  his  Partner,  and  fet  his  Affairs  on  a 
right  foot.  . 

.••'1  *  One 


Advice  to  an  Author,  171 

Sea,  2. 
One  wou*d  think,  there  was  nothing v-<V>J 
eafier  for  us,  than  to  know  our  own  Minds, 
and  underftand  what  our  main  Scope  was ; 
what  we  plainly  drove  at,  and  what  we 
propos'd  to  our-felves,  as  our  End,  in  eve- 
ry Occurrence  of  our  Lives.  But  our 
Thoughts  have  generally  fuch  an  obfcure 
implicit  Language,  that  'tis  the  hardeft 
thing  in  the  world  to  make  'em  fpeak  out 
diftinctly.  For  this  reafon,  the  right  Me- 
thod is  to  give  'em  Voice  and  Accent.  And 
this,  in  our  default,  is  what  the  Moralijls 
or  Philofephers  endeavour  to  do,  to  our 
hand ;  when,  as  is  ufual,  they  hold  us  out 
a  kind  of  "jocal  Looking-Glafs,  draw  Sound 
out  of  our  Breaft,  and  inftrudt  us  to  perfo- 
nate  our-felves,  in  the  plaineft  manner. 

*  Ilia  jibi  introrfum,  &  fub  Lingua  im^ 
murmur  at :  6  Ji 
Ebullit  Patrui  prceclarum  funm  I 

A  CERTAIN  Air  of  Pleafantry  and 
Humour,  which  prevails  now-a-days  in 
the  fa{hionable  World,  gives  a  Son  the  af- 
furance  to  tell  a  Father,  he  has  liv'd  too 
long ;  and  a  Hulband  the  privilege  of  talk- 
ing of  his  Second  Wife  before  his  Firjl. 
But  let  the  airy  Gentleman,  who  makes 
thus  bold  with  others,  retire  a-while  out 

*  Pcrf.  Sat-  2. 

of 


i/x  Advice  70  ^i;^  Author. 

Part  I.  of  Company ;  and  he  fcarce  dares  tell 
<yy^<J  hinifelf  his  Wiflies.  Much  lefs  can  he  en- 
dure to  carry  on  his  Thought,  as  he  ne- 
cefTarily  muft,  if  he  enters  once  thorow- 
ly  into  iiimfelf,  and  proceeds  by  Interro- 
gatorys  to  form  the  Home-Acquaintance 
and  Familiarity  requir'd.  For  thus,  after 
fbme  ftruggle,  we  may  fuppofe  him  to  ac- 
cpil  himjfelf.  "  Tell  me  now,  my 

*'  honeft  Heart!  Am  I  really  honeji,  and 
"  of  fome  worth  ?  or  do  I  only  make  a 
"  fair  {how,  and  am  intrinfecally  no  bet- 
"  ter  than  a  Rafcal  ?  As  good  a  Friend, 
"  a  Country-man,  or  a  Relation,  as  I  ap- 
"  pear  outwardly  to  the  World,  or  as  I 
"  wou'd  willingly  perhaps  think  my-felf 
'^  to  be;  fhou'd  I  not  in  reality  be  glad 
"  they  were  hang'd,  any  of  them,  or 
"  broke  their  Necks,  who  happen'd  to 
"  fland  between  Me  and  the  leaft  portion 
"  of  an  Eftate  ?  Why  not  ?   fince  'tis 

"  my  Inter efl,  Shou'd  I  not  be  glad 

"  therefore  to  help  this  matter  forwards, 
"  and  promote  my  Intereji,  if  it  lay  fairly 
"  in  my  power  ?  No  doubt ;  pro- 

**  vided  I  were  fure  not  to  be  punifh'd 
"  for  it.  And  what  reafon  has  the 

"  greateft  Rogue  in  Nature  for  not  doing 
"  thus  ?  The  fame  reafon,  and  no 

**  other.  Am  I  not  then,  at  the  bot- 

"  tom,  the  fame  as  he  ?  The  fame : 

"  an  arrant  Villain;  tho  perhaps  more 
*'  a  Coward,    and  not  fo  perfed  in  my 

"  kind. 


Advice  to  an  Author.  173 

"  kind.         If  Inter eji  therefore  points  meSed:.  2. 

"  out  this  Road;  whither  would  Huma-^^^^'^^^ 

"  nity  and  Compaffion  lead  me  ?  Quite 

"  contrary.  Why  therefore  do  I  che- 

"  rifh  fuch  Weaknefles  ?     Why  do  I  fym- 

"  pathize  with  others  ?     Why  pleafe  my- 

"  felf  in  the  Conceit  of  Worth  and  Ho- 

**  nour  f    a  CharaBery  a  Memory ^  an  IJfue^ 

"  or  a  Name?    What  elfe  are  thefe  but 

"  Scruples  in  my  way  ?    Wherefore  do  I 

"  thus  bely  my  own  Intereji,  and  by  keep- 

"  ing  my-felf  half  Knave,    approve   my- 

"  felf  a  thoroiM  FoolV 

This  is  a  Language  we  can  by  no 
means  endure  to  hold  with  our-felves ; 
whatever  Raillery  we  may  ufe  with  others. 
We  may  defend  Villany,  or  cry  up  Folly, 
before  the  World :  But  to  appear  Fools, 
Mad-men,  or  Varlets,  to  our-felves-,  and 
prove  it  to  our  own  faces,  that  we  are 
really  fuch,  is  infupportable.  For  fo  true 
a  Reverence  has  every-one  for  himfelf, 
when  he  comes  clearly  to  appear  before 
his  clofe  Companion,  that  he  had  rather 
profefs  the  vileft  things  of  himfelf  in  open 
Company,  than  hear  his  Character  private- 
ly from  his  own  Mouth.  So  that  we  may 
readily  from  hence  conclude,  That  the 
chief  Interefl  of  Ambition,  Avarice,  Cor- 
ruption, and  every  fly  infinuating  Vice,  is 
to  prevent  this  Interview  and  Familiarity 
of   Difcourfe    which   is  confequent   upon 

clofe 


174         Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  i.clofe  Retirement  and  inward  Recefs.  *T1$ 
i/'V^  the  grand  Artifice  of  Villany  and  Leudnefs^ 
as  well  as  of  Superjiition  and  Bigotry,  to 
put  us  upon  Terms  of  greater  Diftance  and 
Formality  with  our-felves,  and  evade  our 
proving  Method  of  S  o  l  i  l  o  qjj  y.  And 
for  this  reafon,  how  fpecious  foever  may 
be  the  Inftrudtion  and  Dodrine  of  Forma- 
lifts ;  their  very  Manner  it-felf  is  a  fuffi- 
cicnt  Blind,  or  Remora  in  the  way  of  Ho- 
nefty  and  good  Senfe. 

I  AM  fenfible,  that  {hou'd  my  Reader 
be  peradventure  a  Lover,  after  the  more 
profound  and   folemn   way   of  Love,    he 
wou'd   be  apt  to  conclude,    that  he  was 
no  Stranger   to  our   proposed  Method   of 
Pradlice  j    being   confcious  to   himfeif   of 
having  often  made  vigorous  Excurfions  in- 
to thofe  folitary  Regions  above-mention'd ; 
where  Soliloquy  is  upheld   with   moft  ad- 
vantage.     He   may  chance   to   remember 
how    he    has    many    times    addrefs'd    the 
Woods    and   Rocks    in  audible   articulate 
Sounds,   and  feemingly  expoftulated  with 
himfeif  in  fuch  a  manner,   as  if  he  had 
really  form'd  the  requifite  DiJiinBio?i,  and 
"had  the  Power  to  entertain  himfeif  in  due 
form.     But  it  is  very  apparent,  that  tho 
all  were  true  we  have   here  fuppos'd,    it 
can    no    way   reach    the   Cafe   before   us. 
For  a  pafTionate  Lover,  whatever  Solitude 
he  may  afFedl,  can  never  be  truly  by  him- 


Advice  to  an  Author.  175 

felf.  His  Cafe  is  like  the  Authors  whoSe6t.  2. 
has  begun  his  Courtfhip  to  the  Publick,  and  ^-^v^ 
is  embark'd  in  an  Intrigue  which  fufficient- 
ly  amufes,  and  takes  him  out  of  himfelf. 
Whatever  he  meditates  alone,  is  interrupted 
ftill  by  the  imagin'd  Prefence  of  the  Mif- 
trefs  he  purfues.  Not  a  Thought,  not  an 
Expreffion,  not  a  Sigh,  which  is  purely 
for  himfelf.  All  is  appropriated,  and  all 
devoutly  tender'd  to  the  Objed:  of  his 
Paffion.  Infomuch  that  there  is  nothing 
ever  fo  trivial  or  accidental  of  this  kind, 
which  he  is  not  defirous  fhou'd  be  witnefs'd 
by  the  Party,  whofe  Grace  and  Favour  he 
follicits. 

'T I  s  the  fame  Reafon  which  keeps  the 
imaginary  Saint,  or  Myjiicky  from  being 
capable  of  this  Entertainment.  Inflead  of 
looking  narrowly  into  his  own  Nature  and 
Mind,  that  he  may  be  no  longer  a  Myfte- 
ry  to  himfelf,  he  is  taken  up  with  the 
Contemplation  of  other  myfterious  Na- 
tures, which  he  can  never  explain  or  com- 
prehend. He  has  the  Spe(fters  of  his  Zeal 
before  his  Eyes ;  and  is  as  familiar  with 
his  Modes,  ElTences,  Perfonages,  and  Ex- 
hibitions of  Deity,  as  the  Conjurer  with 
his  different  Forms,  Species,  and  Orders 
of  G  E  N 1 1  or  D  iE  M  o  N  s.  So  that  we 
make  no  doubt  to  allert,  that  not  fo  much 
as  a  reclufe  Religionift,  a  Votary,  or  Her- 
mit, was  ever  truly  by  himfelf.     And  thus 

Vol.   I,  M  fince 


\y6         Advice  to  an  Author, 

Part  i.fince  neither  Lover,  Author,  Myftick,  or 
L/'VVi  Conjurer,  (who  are  the  only  Claimants) 
can  truly  or  juftly  be  entitled  to  a  Share 
in  this  Self-entertainment }  it  remains  that 
the  only  Perfon  intitled,  is  the  Man  of 
Senfe,  the  Sage,  or  Philojbpher.  How- 
ever, fince  of  all  other  Characters  we  are 
generally  the  moft  inclin'd  to  favour  that 
of  a  Lover  -,  it  may  not,  we  hope,  be  im- 
pertinent, on  this  occafion,  to  recite  the 
Story  of  an  Amour. 


A  VIRTUOUS  young  Prince  of  a 
heroick  Soul,  capable  of  Love  and  Friend- 
fhip,  made  war  upon  a  Tyrant,  who  was 
in  every  refpedt  his  Reverfe.  'Twas  the 
Happinefs  of  our  Prince  to  be  as  great  a 
Conqueror  by  his  Clemency  and  Bounty, 
as  by  his  Arms  and  military  Virtue.  Al- 
ready he  had  won  over  to  his  Party  feve- 
ral  Potentates  and  Princes,  who  before 
had  been  fubjeit  to  the  Tyrant.  Among 
thofe  who  adher'd  ftill  to  the  Enemy, 
there  was  a  Prince,  who  having  all  the 
advantage  of  Perfon  and  Merit,  had  late- 
ly been  made  happy  in  the  Pofleffion  and 
mutual  Love  of  the  moft  beautiful  Prin- 
cefs  in  the  world.  It  happen'd  that  the 
Occafions  of  the  War  call  a  the  new-mar- 
ry'd  Prince  to  a  diftance  from  his  belov'd 
Princefs.  He  left  her  fccure,  as  he 
thought,    in  a  ftrong  Caftle,    far  within 

the 


Advice  to  an  Author.,         177 

the  Country :  but  in  his  abfence  the  Place  Sed:.  2. 
was  taken  by  furprize,    and   the  Princefs  ^-OP^ 
brought  a  Captive  to  the  Quarters  of  our 
heroick  Prince. 

There  was  in  the  Camp  a  young 
Nobleman,  Favourite  of  the  Prince ;  one 
who  had  been  educated  with  him,  and 
was  ftill  treated  by  him  with  perfed:  Fa- 
miliarity. Him  he  immediately  fent  for, 
and  with  ftrid:  Injundtions  committed  the 
captive  Princefs  to  his  charge  j  refolving  ' 
fhe  fhou'd  be  treated  with  that  Refpedt 
which  was  due  to  her  high  Rank  and  Me- 
rit. 'Twas  the  fame  young  Lord,  who 
had  difcover'd  her  difguis'd  among  the 
Prifoners,  and  learnt  her  Story  -,  the  par- 
ticulars of  which  he  now  related  to  the 
Prince.  He  fpoke  in  extafy  on  this  occa- 
fion;  telling  the  Prince  how  beautiful  fhe 
appear'd,  even  in  the  midft  of  Sorrow ; 
and  tho  difguis'd  under  the  meaneft  Ha- 
bit, yet  how  diftinguifhable,  by  her  Air 
and  Manner,  from  every  other  Beauty  of 
her  Sex.  But  what  appear'd  ftrange  to 
our  young  Nobleman,  was,  that  the 
Prince,  during  this  whole  relation,  dif- 
cover'd not  the  leaft  Intention  of  feeing 
the  Lady,  or  fatisfying  that  Curiofity, 
which  feem'd  fo  natural  on  fuch  an  oc- 
cafion.  He  prefs'd  him  ;  but  without  fuc- 
cefs.  "  Not  fee  her.  Sir!  (faid  he,  won- 
M  2  "  dring) 


178  Advice  fo  ^w  Author. 

Part   I."  dring)  when  (he  is  fo  handfom,  beyond 
"  what  you  have  ever  feen  '" 


^>^ 


"For    that   very   reafon,    reply'd   the 

*  Prince,   I  wou'd  the  rather  decline  the 

*  Interview.     For  fhou'd  I,  upon  the  bare 
'  Report   of  her  Beauty,   be   fo   charm'd 

*  as  to  make  the  firft  Vifit  at  this  urgent 
'  time    of   Bufinefs  j    I  may  upon   fight, 

*  with  better  reafon,    be  induc'd' perhaps 

*  to  vifit   her   when  I  am   more   at  lei- 

*  fure :   and   fo  again  and  again  ;    till  at 

*  laft  I  may  have  no  leifure  left  for  my 
'  Affairs." 


"  Wou'd  you.  Sir!  perfuade  me  then, 
"  faid  the  young  Nobleman,  fmiling,  that 
"  a  fair  Face  can  have  fuch  Power  as  to 
"  force  the  Will  it-felf,  and  conftrain  a 
*'  Man  in  any  refpe<fl  to  a6l  contrary  to 
'*  wliat  he  thinks  becoming  him  ?  Are 
"  we  to  hearken  to  the  Poets  in  what 
*'  they  tell  us  of  that  Incendiary  Love, 
"  and  his  irrefiftible  Flames  ?  A  real 
"  Flame,  we  fee,  burns  all  alike.  But 
*'  that  imaginary  one  of  Beauty  hurts 
'*  only  thofe  who  are  confenting.  It  af- 
"  feds  no  otherwife,  than  as  we  our- 
"  felves  are  pleas'd  to  allow  it.  In  ma- 
"  ny  Cafes  we  abfolutely  command  it : 
"  as  where  Relation  and  Confanguinity 
"  are  in  the  neareft  degree.  Authority 
"  and  Law,    we  fee,  can  mafter  it.     But 

"  'twou'd 


Advice  to  an  Author.  179 

"  'twou'd  be  vain  as  well  as  unjuft,    forSed:.  2. 
"  any  Law   to    intermeddle   or   prefcribe,  ^-^'v^w' 
"  were  not  the  Cafe   voluntary,    and  our 
*'  Will  entirely  free!' 

"  How  comes  It  then,  reply'd  the 
"  Prince,  that  if  we  are  thus  Mafters  of 
"  our  Choice,  and  free  at  firft  to  admire 
"  and  love  where  we  approve,  we  cannot 
"  afterwards  as  well  ceafe  to  love  when- 
"  ever  we  fee  caufe  ?  This  latter  Liberty 
"  you  will  hardly  defend.  For  I  doubt 
"  not,  you  have  heard  of  many,  who  tho 
*'  they  were  us'd  to  fet  the  higheft  value 
"  upon  Liberty  before  they  lov'd,  yet  af- 
"  ter wards  were  necejjitated  to  ferve  in 
"  the  moft  abjedt  manner :  finding  them- 
'*  felves  conftrain'd  and  bound  by  a 
"  flronger  Chain  than  any  of  Iron,  or 
"  Adamant." 

"  Such  Wretches,  reply'd  the  Youth, 
"  I  have  often  heard  complain  j  who,  if 
"  you  will  believe  'em,  are  wretched  in- 
*'  deed,  without  Means  or  Power  to  help 
**  themfelves.  You  may  hear  'em  in  the 
*'  fame  manner  complain  grievoufly  of 
"  Life  it-felf.  But  tho  there  are  Doors 
*'  enow  to  go  out  of  Life,  they  find  it 
"  convenient  to  keep  flill  where  they  are. 
"  They  are  the  very  fame  Pretenders, 
"  who  thro'  this  "Plea  of  trreftjiible  Necef- 
^'  Jity  make  bold  with  what  is  another's, 
M  3  "  and 


i8o  Advice  fa  ^M  Author, 

Part  I."  and  attempt  unlawful  Beds.  But  the 
v^^V*^  "  Law,  I  perceive,  makes  bold  with  them 
"  in  its  turn,  as  with  other  Invaders  of 
"  Property.  Neither  is  it  your  Cuftom, 
"  Sir,  to  pardon  fuch  Offences.  So  that 
"  Beauty  it-felf,  you  muft  allow,  is  in- 
"  nocent  and  harmlefs,  and  can  compel 
"  no-one  to  do  any  thing  amifs.  The 
*'  Debauch'd  compel  themfelves,  and  un- 
"  juftly  charge  their  Guilt  on  Love. 
*'  They  who  are  honeft  and  juft,  can  ad- 
"  mire  and  love  whatever  is  beautiful ; 
"  without  offering  at  any-thing  beyond 
"  what  is  allow'd.  How  then  is  it  pofli- 
*'  ble,  Sir,  that  one  of  your  Virtue  (hou'd 
"  be  in  pain  on  any  fuch  account,  or  fear 
"  fuch  a  Temptation  ?  You  fee,  Sir,  I 
"  am  found  and  whole,  after  having  beheld 
"  the  Princefs.  I  have  convers'd  with  her 
"  I  have  admir'd  her  in  the  higheft  degree 
*'  yet  am  my-felf  flill,  and  in  my  Duty 
"  and  fhall  be  ever  in  the  fame  manner  at 
"  your  command." 

"  'T I  s  well  (reply 'd  the  Prince  :)  keep 
"  your-felf  fo.  Be  ever  the  fame  Man : 
"  and  look  to  your  Charge  carefully,  as 
"  becomes  you.  For  it  may  fo  happen  in 
"  the  prefent  pofture  of  the  War,  that 
"  this  Fair  Captive  may  ftand  us  in  good 
"  ftead."  -/    ^^. 

With 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i8i 

Sed:.  2. 
With  this  the  young  Nobleman  de-t^'VN; 
parted  to  execute  his  Commiffion  :  and  im- 
mediately took  fuch  care  of  the  captive 
Princefs  and  her  Houfhold,  that  flie  feem'd 
as  perfectly  obey'd,  and  had  every  thing 
which  belong'd  to  her  in  as  great  Splendor 
now,  as  in  her  Principality,  and  in  the 
height  of  Fortune.  He  found  her  in  every 
refpedt  deferving,  and  faw  in  her  a  Genero- 
fity  of  Soul  which  was  beyond  her  other 
Charms.  His  Study  to  oblige  her,  and 
foften  her  Diflrefs,  made  her  in  return  defi- 
rous  to  exprefs  a  Gratitude ;  which  he  ealiiy 
perceiv'd.  She  {hew'd  on  every  occafion  a 
real  Concern  for  his  Interefl  \  and  when  he 
happen'd  to  fall  ill,  fhe  took  fuch  tender 
care  of  him  her-felf,  and  by  her  Servants, 
that  he  feem'd  to  owe  his  Recovery  to  her 
Friendfhip. 

From  thefe  Beginnings,  infenfibly,  and 
by  natural  degrees  (as  may  eafily  be  con- 
ceiv'd)  the  Youth  fell  defperately  in  love. 
At  firfl  he  offer'd  not  to  make  the  leaft 
mention  of  his  Paflion  to  the  Princefs. 
For  he  fcarce  dar'd  tell  it  to  himfelf.  But 
afterwards  he  grew  bolder.  She  receiv'd 
his  Declaration  with  an  unaffedled  Trou- 
ble and  Concern,  fpoke  to  him  as  a  Friend, 
to  difluade  him  as  much  as  poiTible  from 
fuch  an  extravagant  Attempt.  But  when 
he  talk'd  to  her  of  Force,  {he  immediately 
M  4  fent 


i8i  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  i.fent  away  one  of  her  faithful  Domeflicks 
(.yV^  to  the  Prince,,  to  implore  his  Protecftion. 
The  Prince  receiv'd  the  Meflage  with  the 
appearance  of  more  than  ordinary  Concern : 
fent  inftantly  for  one  of  his  firft  Minifters  j 
and  bid  him  go  with  that  Domeilick  to  the 
young  Nobleman,  and  let  him  underftand, 
"  That  Force  was  not  to  be  offer'd  to  fuch 
"  a  Lady  j  Perjuafion  he  might  ufe,  if  he 
"  thought  fit." 

The  Minifler,  who  was  no  Friend  to 
the  young  Nobleman,  fail'd  not  to  aggra- 
vate the  Meflage,  inveigh'd  publickly  a- 
gainft  him  oii  this  occafion,  and  to  his 
face  reproach'd  him  as  a  Traitor  and  Dif- 
honourer  of  his  Prince  and  Nation :  with 
all  elfe  which  cou'd  be  find  againft  him,  as 
guilty  of  the  higheft  Sacrilege,  Perfidiouf- 
nefs,  and  Breach  of  Truft.  So  that  in  reali- 
ty, the  Youth  look'd  upon  his  Cafe  as  def- 
perate,  fell  into  the  deepeft  Melancholy, 
and  prepar'd  himfelf  for  that  Fate,  which 
he  thought  he  well  deferv'd. 

I N  this  Condition  the  Prince  fent  to 
fpeak  with  him  alone:  and  when  he  faw 
him  in  the  utmoft  Confufion,  "  I  find, 
"  /aid  he^  my  Friend,  I  am  now  become 
**  dreadful  to  you  indeed  ;  fince  you  can 
"  neither  fee  me  without  Shame,  nor  ima- 
"  gine  me  to  be  without  Refentment. 
"  But  away  with  all  thofe  Thoughts  from 

«  this 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i8j 

«  this  time  forwards.     I  know  how  much  Se<!il.  2. 

"  you  have  lufFer'd  on   this  occaiion.      I  O'VN) 

"  know  the  Power  of  L  o  v  e,  and  am  no 

**  otherwife  fafe  my-felf,  than  by  keeping 

"  out  of  the  way  of  Beauty,     'Twas  I  who 

"  was  in  fault  j   'twas   I   who   unhappily 

"  match'd  you  with  that  unequal  Adver- 

"  fary,    and    gave    you    that    impracflica- 

"  ble  Taik    and   hard  Adventure,   which 

"  no-one  yet  was  ever  flrong  enough  to 

"  accomplifli." 

"In  this,  Sir,  reply'd  the  Youth,  as 
"  in  all  elfe,  you  exprefs  that  Goodnefs 
"  which  is  fo  natural  to  you.  You  have 
"  Companion,  and  can  allow  for  human 
"  Frailty  ;  but  the  reft  of  Mankind  will 
'*  never  ceafe  to  upbraid  me.  Nor  fhall 
*'  I  ever  be  forgiven,  were  I  able  ever  to 
"  forgive  my-felf.  I  am  reproach'd  by 
"  my  nearell  Friends.  I  muft  be  odious 
"  to  all  Mankind,  wherever  I  am  known. 
"  The  leaft  Punifhment  I  can  think  due 
**  to  me,  is  Banifhment  for  ever  from  your 
"  Prefcnce." 

"  Think  not  of  fuch  a  thing  y^r  ever, 
'*  faid  the  Prince,  but  truft  me :  if  you 
*'  retire  only  for  a  while^  I  fhall  fo  order 
"  it,  that  you  (hall  foon  return  again 
"  with  the  Applaufe,  even  of  thofe  who 
"  are  now  your  Enemys,  when  they 
**  find    what   a  confiderable    Service   you 

"  fhall 


i?4  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I."  fliall  have  render'd  both  to  them  and 
i/VNJ"  Me." 

Such  a  Hint  was  fufficient  to  revive 
the  Spirits  of  our  defpairing  Youth.  He 
was  tranfported  to  think,  that  his  Misfor- 
tune cou'd  be  turn'd  any  way  to  the  Ad- 
vantage of  his  Prince  j  he  enter'd  with  Joy 
into  the  Scheme  the  Prince  had  laid  for 
him,  and  appear'd  eager  to  depart,  and 
execute  what  was  appointed  him.  *'  Can 
"  you  then,  faid  the  Prince,  refolve  to  quit 
*'  the  charming  Princefs  ?" 

"  O  Sir!  reply'd  the  Youth,  well  am 
"  I  now  fatisfy'd,  that  I  have  in  reality 
**  within  me  two  dijlindl  Jeparate  Souls. 
**  This  LefTon  of  Philofophy  I  have  learnt 
"  from  that  villanous  Sophifter  Love. 
**  For  'tis  impoflible  to  believe,  that  having 
**  one  and  the  fame  Soul,  it  {hou'd  be  ac- 
"  tually  both  Good  and  Bad,  paflionate  for 
**  Virtue  and  Vice,  delirous  of  Contrarys. 
"  No.  There  muft  of  neceflity  be  Two : 
"  and  when  the  Good  prevails,  'tis  then  we 
**  adt  handfomly ;  when  the  lll^  then  bafe- 
"  ly  and  villanoufly.  Such  was  my  Cafe. 
*'  For  lately  the  III  Soul  was  wholly  Maf- 
**  ter.  But  now  the  Good  prevails,  by 
**  your  afliflance ;  and  I  am  plainly  a  new 
**  Creature,  with  quite  another  Apprehen- 
**  Jion,  another  Reajbn,  another  W  i  l  l." 

THUS 


Advice  to  m  Author.  i8y 

Sea.  2 

THUS  it  may  appear  how  far  a  Lover 
by  his  own  natural  Strength  may  reach  the 
chief  Principle  of  Philofophy,  and  under- 
ftand  our  Dodtrine  of  'Two  Perfons  in  one 
individual  Self.  Not  that  our  Courtier,  we 
fuppofe,  was  able,  of  himfelf,  to  form  this 
DiftinBion  juftly  and  according  to  Art. 
For  cou'd  he  have  effe(5ted  this,  he  wou'd 
have  been  able  to  cure  himfelf,  without  the 
afliftance  of  his  Prince.  However,  he  was 
wife  enough  to  fee  in  the  iiTue,  that  his  In- 
dependency and  Freedom  were  mere  Glofles, 
and  Rejblution  a  Nofe  of  Wax.  For  let 
Will  be  ever  fo  free.  Humour  and  Fancy ^ 
we  fee,  govern  it.  And  thefe,  as  free  as 
we  fuppofe  'em,  are  often  chang'd  we  know 
not  how,  without  aiking  our  confent,  or 
giving  us  any  account.  If  *  Opinion  be  that 
which  governs,  and  makes  the  change ;  'tis 
it-felf  as  liable  to  be  govern'd,  and  vary'd 
in  its  turn.  And  by  what  I  can  obferve  of 
the  World,  Fancy  and  Opinion  ftand  pretty 
much  upon  the  fame  bottom.  So  that  if 
there  be  no  certain  InJpeBor  or  Auditor  ef- 
tablifh'd  within  us,  to  take  account  of  thefe 
Opinions  and  Fancys  in  due  form,  and  mi- 
nutely to  animadvert  upon  their  feveral 
Growths  and  Habits,  we  are  as  little  like 
to  continue  a  Day  in  the  fame  Willy  as  a 
Tree,  during  a  Summer,  in  the  fame  Shape^ 

*  Infra,  "p.^z^.     And  VOL.  Ill,  p.  198,  199. 

with- 


1  8^  Adyice  to  an  Author. 

Part   I.  without  the  Gard'ner's  Affiftance,  and  the 
(/W^  vigorous   Application    of    the   Sheers   and 
Pruning-Knife. 

As  cruel  a  Court  as  the  Inquijition  ap- 
pears ;  there  muft,  it  feems,  be  full  as  for- 
midable a  one,  eredted  in  our-felves  j  if 
we  wou'd  pretend  to  that  Uniformity  of 
Opinion  which  is  neceffary  to  hold  us  to 
one  Will,  and  preferve  us  in  the  fame  mind, 
from  one  day  to  another.  Philofophy,  at 
this  rate,  will  be  thought  perhaps  little 
better  than  Perfecution :  And  a  Supreme 
Judg  in  matters  of  Inclination  and  Appe- 
tite, muft  needs  go  exceedingly  againft  the 
Heart.  Every  pretty  Fancy  is  difturb'd 
by  it :  Every  Pleafure  interrupted  by  it. 
The  Courfe  of  good  Humour  will  hardly 
allow  it :  And  the  Pleafantry  of  Wit  al- 
moft  abfolutely  rejeds  it.  It  appears,  be- 
lides,  like  a  kind  of  Pedantry,  to  be  thus 
magifterial  with  our-felves ;  thus  ftri6l  over 
our  Imaginations,  and  with  all  the  airs  of  a 
real  Pedagogue  to  be  foUicitoufly  taken  up 
in  the  four  Care  and  Tutorage  of  fo  many 
boyifti  Fancys,  unlucky  Appetites  and  De- 
fires,  which  are  perpetually  playing  truant, 
and  need  Correction. 

We  hope,  however,  that  by  our  Me- 
thod of  Practice,  and  the  help  of  the 
grand  Arcanum,  which  we  have  profefs'd  to 
reveal,  this  Regimen  or  Difcifline  of  the 
- .  Fancys 


Advice  to  an  Author.  187 

Fancys  may  not  in  the  end  prove  fo  fevereSed:.  2. 
or  mortifying  as  is  imagin'd.  We  hope  alfo  ^v^^ 
that  our  Putient  (for  fuch  we  naturally  fup- 
pofe  our  Reader)  will  confider  duly  with 
himfelf,  that  what  he  endures  in  this  Ope- 
ration is  for  no  inconfiderable  End :  fince 
'tis  to  gain  him  a  JVill^  and  infure  him  a 
certain  Refolution  ;  by  which  he  (hall  know 
where  to  find  himfelf;  be  fure  of  his  own 
Meaning  and  Defign  j  and  as  to  all  his  De- 
fires,  Opinions,  and  Inclinations,  be  war- 
ranted one  and  the  fame  Perfon  to  day  as 
yeilerday,  and  to  morrow  as  to  day. 

This,  perhaps,  will  be  thought  a  Mira- 
cle by  one  who  well  confiders  the  Nature  of 
Mankind,  and  the  Growth,  Variation,  and 
Infled:ion  of  Appetite  and  Humour.  For  A  p- 
PETITE,  which  is  elder  Brother  to  R  e  a- 
s  o  N,  being  the  Lad  of  ftrongcr  growth,  is 
fure,  on  every  Conteft,  to  take  the  advan- 
tage of  drawing  all  to  his  own  fide.  And 
Will^  fo  highly  boafted,  is,  at  beft,  merely  a 
Top  or  Foot-Ball  between  thefe  Youngfters, 
who  prove  very  unfortunately  match'd ;  till 
the  youngeft,  inftead  of  now  and  then  a  Kick 
or  Lafh  beftow'd  to  little  purpofe,  forfakes 
the  Ball  or  Top  it-felf,  and  begins  to  lay 
about  his  elder  Brother.  'Tis  then  that  the 
Scene  changes.  For  the  elder,  like  an  ar- 
rant Coward,  upon  this  Treatment,  pre- 
fently  grows  civil,  and  affords  the  younger 
as  fair  Play  afterwards  as  he  can  delire. 

I  And 


i88  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I. 

C/^VNJ  And  here  it  is  that  our  Sovereign  Re- 
medy and  Gymnaflick  Method  of  Soli- 
loquy takes  its  rife:  when  by  a  certain 
powerful  Figure  of  inward  Rhetorick,  the 
Mind  apoftrophizes  its  own  F  A  N  c  y  s,  raifes 
'em  in  their  proper  Shapes  and  Perfonages, 
and  addrefles  'em  familiarly,  without  the 
leaft  Ceremony  or  Refped:.  By  this  means 
it  will  foon  happen,  that  Two  form'd 
Partys  will  eredt  themfelves  within.  For 
the  Imaginations  or  Fancys  being  thus 
roundly  treated,  are  forc'd  to  declare  them- 
felves, and  take  party.  Thofe  on  the  fide 
of  the  elder  Brother  Appetite,  are 
ftrangely  fubtle  and  infinuaiing.  They  have 
always  the  Faculty  to  fpeak  by  Nods  and 
"Winks.  By  this  pradtice  they  conceal  half 
their  meaning,  and,  like  modern  Politi- 
cians, pafs  for  deeply  wife,  and  adorn  them- 
felves with  the  fineft  Pretext  and  moft  fpe- 
cious  Glofles  imaginable ;  till  being  con- 
fronted with  their  Fellows  of  a  plainer  Lan- 
guage and  Expreffion,  they  are  forc'd  to 
quit  their  myfterious  Manner,  and  difcover 
themfelves  mere  Sophijiers  and  Impojiors, 
who  have  not  the  leaft  to  do  with  the  Party 
of  R  E  A  s  o  N  and  good  Senfe, 

Accordingly  we  might  now  pro- 
ceed to  exhibit  diftindtly,  and  in  due  me- 
thod, the  Form  and  Manner  of  this  Pro- 
batiotty  or  Exercife^  as  it  regards  all  Men 

in 


Advice  to  an  Author.  189 

in  general.  But  the  Cafe  of  Authors,  inSedt.  2» 
particular,  being,  as  we  apprehend,  the^-^'"V"^^ 
moft  urgent;  we  fhall  apply  our  Rule  in 
the  firft  place  to  thefe  Gentlemen,  whom 
it  fo  highly  imports  to  know  themfelves, 
and  underftand  the  natural  Strength  and 
Powers,  as  well  as  the  Weaknejfes  of  a  hu- 
man Mind.  For  without  this  Underftand- 
ing,  the  Hijiorian^  Judgment  will  be  very 
defedtive  ;  the  Politician's  Views  very  nar- 
row, and  chimerical ;  and  the  Poefs  Brain, 
however  ftock'd  with  Fidlion,  will  be  but 
poorly  furnifh'd ;  as  in  the  fequel  we  {hall 
make  appear.  He  who  deals  in  CharaSiers^ 
muft  of  neceflity  know  his  own ;  or  he  will 
know  nothing.  And  he  who  wou'd  give 
the  World  a  profitable  Entertainment  of 
this  fort,  ihou'd  be  fure  to  profit,  firft,  by 
himfelf.  For  in  this  fenfe,  Wifdom  as  well 
as  Charity  may  be  honeftly  faid  to  begin  at 
home.  There  is  no  way  of  eftimating 
Manners,  or  apprizing  the  different  Hu- 
mours, Fancys,  PaJJions  and  Afprehenfions  of 
others,  without  firft  taking  an  Inventory 
of  the  fame  kind  of  Goods  within  our- 
felves,  and  furveying  our  domeftick  Fund. 
A  little  of  this  How^-Pradtice  will  ferve 
to  make  great  Difcoverys. 

T!ecum  habita,  ^  ndris  quam  Jit  tibi  cur- 
ia fupelkx,  Perf.  Sat.  4. 

SECT. 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


SECT.     IIL 

WH  O  E  V  E  R  has  been  an  Obferver  of 
Atlion  and  Grace  in  human  Bodys, 
mil  ft  of  neceflity  have  difcover'd  the  great 
difference  in  this  refpedt  between  fuch  Per- 
fons  as  have  been  taught  by  Nature  only, 
and  fuch  as  by  Refledlion,  and  the  aflif- 
tance  of  Art,  have  learnt  to  form  thole 
Motions,  which  on  experience  are  found 
the  eafieft  and  moft  natural.  Of  the  for- 
mer kind  are  either  thofe  good  Rujiicks^ 
who  have  been  bred  remote  from  the 
form'd  Societys  of  Men ;  or  thofe  plain 
Artizans^  and  People  of  lower  Rank,  who 
living  in  Citys  and  Places  of  refort,  have 
been  neceflitated  however  to  follow  mean 
Imploymenis,  and  wanted  the  Opportuni- 
ty and  Means  to  form  themfelves  after  the 
better  Models.  There  are  fome  Perfons  in- 
deed fo  happily  form'd  by  Nature  her-felf, 
that  with  the  greateft  Simplicity  or  Rude- 
nefs  of  Education,  they  have  ftill  fomething 
of  a  natural  Grace  and  Comelinefs  in  their 
A<5lion :  And  there  are  others  of  a  better 
Education,  who  by  a  wrong  Aim  and  in- 
judicious Affecftation  of  Grace,  are  of  all 
People  the  fartheft  remov'd  from  it.  *Tis 
undeniable  however,  that  the  Perfedlion 
of  Grace  and  Comelinefs  in  Adion  and 
Behaviour,  can  be  found  only  among  the 
People  of  a  liberal  Educa'tion.     And  even 

among 


Advicb  to  an  Author.  ipi 

among  the  graceful  of  this  kind,  thofe  flillSe(5t.  3. 
are  found  the  gracefulleft,    who  early  in  ^-or^ 
their  Youth  have    learnt   their  Exercifes, 
and  form'd  their  Motions  under  the  beft 
Majlers. 

Now  fuch  as-  thefe  Majlers  and  their 
Leflbns  are  to  a  fine  Gentleman^  fuch  are 
Philofophers,  and  Philofophy,  to  mi  Author. 
The  Cafe  is  the  fame  in  the  fafiAonable^ 
and  in  the  literate  World.  In  the  former 
of  thefe  'tis  remarked,  that  by  the  help  of 
good  Company,  and  the  force  of  Example 
merely,  a  decent  Carriage  is  acquir'd,  with 
fuch  apt  Motions  and  fuch  a  Freedom  of 
Limbs,  as  on  all  ordinary  occafions  may 
enable  the  Party  to  demean  himfelf  like 
a  Gentleman.  But  when  upon  further  oc- 
cafion,  trial  is  made  in  an  extraordinary 
way ;  when  Exercifes  of  the  genteeler  kind 
are  to  be  perform'd  in  publick^  'twill  eafily 
appear  who  of  the  Pretenders  have  been 
form'd  by  Rudiments,  and  had  Mailers  in 
private 'y  and  who,  on  the  other  fide,  have 
contented  themfelves  with  bare  Imitation, 
and  learnt  their  Part  cafually  and  by  rote. 
The  Parallel  is  eafily  made  on  the  lide  of 
Writers.  They  have  at  lead:  as  much  need 
of  learning  the  feveral  Motions,  Counter- 
■  poifes  and  Balances  of  the  Mind  and  Paf- 
fions,  as  the  other  Students  thofe  of  the 
Body  and  Limbs. 

Vol.  I.  N  Scrihendi 


1Q2  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part   I. 

t/^V^^      *  Scribendi  reSle^  fapere  ejl  &  principium 
&  fonSy 
Rem  tibi  Socratic^ poterunt  ojlen^ 
dere  C  h  A  r  t  iE. 

The  Galanty  no  doubt,  may  pen  a 
Letter  to  his  Miftrefs,  as  the  Courtier  may 
a  Compliment  to  the  Minifter^  or  the  Mi- 
nifter  to  the  Favourite  above  him,  with- 
out going  fuch  vaft  Depths  into  Learning 
or  Philofophy.  But  for  thefe  privileg'd 
Gentlemen,  tho  they  fet  Fashions  and 
prefcribe  Rules  in  other  Cafes,  they  are 
no  Controulers  in  the  Commonwealth  of 
Letters.  Nor  are  they  prefum'd  to  write 
to  the  Age,  or  for  remote  Pofterity. 
Their  Works  are  not  of  a  nature  to  intitle 
'em  to  hold  the  Rank  of  Authors,  or  be 

*  Hor.  de  Arte  Poet.      See  even  the  diffolute  P  e  x  r  o- 

N  I  u  s's  Judgment  of  a  Writer. 

Artis  Je-veree  Ji  quis  amat  effeSius, 
Maitemque  mugnis  applicat ;  prius  more 
Frugalitatis  lege  polleat  exaild  ', 
]\ec  curet  alto  regiam  trucem  'vultu. 

-ne<ve  plaufor  in  Scesna 


Sedeat  redemptus,  Hijirioniee  addiSlus 


* 


Max  y  Socratico  plenus  grege^  mutet  habenas 
Liber,  Iff  ingentis  quatiat  Demojihenis  arma. 


His  ammunt  fuccinge  bonis,  jic  fiumine  largo 
Plenus,  Pier  to  defundcs  peilore  vetba. 


ftyl'd 


Advice  to  ari  Author.  1 9  3 

ftyVd  Writers  by  way  of  Excellence  In  theSed:.  3. 
kind.  Shou'd  their  Ambition  lead  'emC/^V^J 
into  fuch  a  Field,  they  wou'd  be  oblig'd 
to  come  otherwife  equip'd.  They  who 
enter  the  publick  Lifts,  mufl  come  duly 
train'd,  and  exercis'd,  like  well  appointed 
Cavaliers,  expert  in  Arms,  and  well  in- 
ftrudted  in  the  Ufe  of  their  Weapon,  and 
Management  of  their  Steed.  For  to  be 
well  accouter'd,  and  well  mounted,  is  not 
fufficient.  The  Horfe  alone  can  never 
make  the  Horfeman ;  nor  Limbs  tbe  Wreji- 
ler  or  the  Dancer.  No  more  can  a  Genius 
alone  make  a  Poet ;  or  good  Parts  a  JVriter, 
in  any  confiderable  kind.  The  Skill  and 
Grace  of  Writing  is  founded,  as  our  wife 
Poet  tells  us,  in  Kmwledg  and  good  Senfe : 
and  not  barely  in  that  Kiiowledg,  which  is 
to  be  learnt  from  common  Authors,  or  the 
general  Converfation  of  the  World  ;  but 
from  thofe  particular  Rules  of  Art,  which 
Philofophy  alone  exhibits. 

The  Philofophical  Writings,  to  which 
our  Poet  in  his  Art  of  Poetry  refers,  were 
in  themfelves  a  kind  of  Poetr\\  like  the 
*  Mimes^  or  perfonated  Pieces  of  early 
times,  before  Philofophy  was  in  vogue,  and 
^when  as  yet  Dramatical  Imitation  was  fcarce 
form'd  }  or  at  leaft,  in  many  Parts,  not 
brought  to   due   perfcd;ion.      They   were 

*  Iftfra,  pag.  254.  in  the  Notes. 

N  2  Pieces 


tp4  Adwice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I.  Pieces  which,  befides  their  force  of  Style, 
^^'V^"^  and  hidden  Numbers,  carry*d  a  fort  of  Ac- 
tion and  Imitation^  the  fame  as  the  Epick 
and  Dra?natick  kinds.  They  were  cither 
real  Dialogues,  or  Recitals  of  fuch  perfona- 
ted  Difcourfes ;  where  the  Perfons  them- 
felves  had  their  Charadters  preferv'd  thro'- 
out ;  their  Manners,  Humours,  and  diftindt 
Turns  of  Temper  and  Underftanding  main- 
tained, according  to  the  moft  exa^  poeti^ 
cal  Truth.  'Twas  not  enough  that  thefe 
Pieces  treated  fundamentally  of.  Morals, 
and  in  confequence  pointed  out  real  Cha- 
raBers  and  Manners :  They  exhibited  *em 
alive,  and  fet  the  Countenances  and  Com- 
plexions of  Men  plainly  in  view.  And 
by  this  means  they  not  only  taught  Us  to 
know  Others ;  but,  what  was  principal  and 
of  higheft  virtue  in  'em,  they  taught  us 
to  know  Our-Jelves.  , 

The  Philofophical  Hero  of  thefe  Poems, 
whofe  Name  they  carry'd  both  in  their 
Body  and  Front,  and  whofe  Genius  and 
Manner  they  were  made  to  reprefent,  was 
in  himfelf  a  perfeB  CharaBer ;  yet,  in  fome 
refpedts,  fo  veil'd,  and  in  a  Cloud,  that 
to  the  unattentive  Surveyor  he  feem'd 
often  to  be  very  different  from  what  he 
really  was :  and  this  chiefly  by  reafon 
of  a  certain  exquifite  and  refin'd  Raillery 
which  belong'd  to  his  Manner,  and  by 
virtue  of  which  he  cou'd  treat  the  higheft 
3„    .  Subjects, 


Advice  to  an  Author.  195 

Subjcds,  and  thofc  of  the  commoneft  Ca-Sedl.  3, 
pacity  both  together,  and  render  'em  ex-ty'^VNJ 
planatory  of  each  other.  So  that  in  this 
Genius  of  writing,  there  appear'd  both  the 
heroick  and  the  fimple^  the  tragick,  and  the 
comick  Vein.  However,  it  was  fo  order'd, 
that  notwithftanding  the  Oddnefs  or  Myf- 
terioufnefs  of  the  principal  Charadler,  the 
TJnder-parts  or  fecond  CharaBers  fhew'd 
human  Nature  more  diftindlly,  and  to  the 
Life.  We  might  here,  therefore,  as  in  a 
Looking-Glafs^  difcover  our-felves,  and  fee 
our  minuteft  Features  nicely  delineated, 
and  futed  to  our  own  Apprehenfion  and 
Cognizance.  No-one  who  was  ever  fo  lit- 
tle a-while  an  Infpedor,  cou'd  fail  of  be- 
coming acquainted  with  his  own  Heart. 
And,  what  was  of  fmgular  note  in  thefe 
magical  Glaffes,  it  wou'd  happen,  that  by 
conftant  and  long  Infpedtion,  the  Partys 
accuftom'd  to  the  Pradiice,  wou'd  acquire 
a  ipecuVmr  fpecuiative  Habit  y  fo  as  virtually 
to  carry  about  with  'em  a  fort  of  Pocket- 
Mirrour,  always  ready,  and  in  ule.  In 
this,  there  were  I'wo  Faces  which  wou'd 
naturally  prefent  themfelves  to  our  view : 
One  of  them,  like  the  commanding  Genius, 
the  Leader  and  Chief  above-mention'd  j  the 
other  like  that  rude,  undifciplin'd  and  head- 
*flrong  Creature,  whom  we  our-felves  in 
our  natural  Capacity  moft  exa<ftly  refem- 
bkd.  Whatever  we  were  employ'd  in, 
whatever  we  fet  about ;  if  oncQ  we  had 
.   ;  N  3  acquir'd 


lp(J 


DviCE  to  an  Author, 


Part  i.acquir'd  the  habit  of  this  Mirrour -,  we 
t/'W  fhou'd,  by  virtue  of  the  double  Reflection, 
diftinguifh  our-felves  into  two  different 
Partys.  And  in  this  Dramatick  Method, 
the  Work  of  Self-l77fpe5iio?i  wou'd  proceed 
with  admirable  Succefs. 

'Tis  no  wonder  that  the  primitive 
Poets  were  efteem'd  fuch  Sages  in  their 
Times ;  fince  it  appears,  they  were  fuch 
well-pra6tis'd  Dialqgifis,  and  accuftom'd  to 
this  improving  Method,  before  ever  Phi- 
lofophy  had  adopted  it.  Their  Mimes  or 
charad:eriz'd  Difcourfes  were  as  much  re- 
lifli'd,  as  their  moft  regular  Poems ;  and 
were  the  Occafion  perhaps  that  fo  many 
of  thefe  latter  were  form'd  in  fuch  per- 
fediion.  For  Poetry  it-felf  was  defin'd  an 
Imitation  chiefly  of  Men  and  Manners : 
and  was  that  in  an  exalted  and  noble  de- 
gree, which  in  a  low  one  we  call  Mimickry. 
*Tis  in  this  that  the  great  *  Mimographer^ 
the  Father  and  Prince  of  Poets,  excels  fo 
highly  i  his  Charaders  being  wrought  to 
a  Likenefs  beyond  what  any  fucceeding 
Mafl:ers  were  ever  able  to  defcribe.  Nor 
are  his  Works,  which  are  fo  full  of  A(5lion, 
any  other  than  an  artful  Series  or  Chain  of 
Dialogues^    which  turn  upon  one  remarka- 

PT/  fxoi'©-  v^  ToitiTav,  iix,  etyvoeio  d^ei  'xoieiv  dvToV'     'AktoC 
ihiyin,  )^  QhiydKti.    Arut.  de  Poet.  cap.  24. 

ble 


Advice  to  an  Author.  197 

ble  Cataftrophe  or  Event.     He  defcribes  noSedl.  3. 
Qualltys    or  Virtues  j    cenfures    no   Man-  w^v%^ 
ners :    makes    no   Encomiums,    nor   gives 
Characters  himfelf ;  but  brings  his  Adors 
flill  in  view.     *Tis  they  who  fhew  them- 
felves.      'Tis  they   who  fpeak  in  fuch  a 
manner,  as  diftinguifhes  'em  in  all  things 
from  all  others,  and  makes  'em  ever  like 
thcmfelves.     Their  different  Compofitions 
and  Allays  fo  juftly  made,  and  equally  car- 
ry'd  on,  thro'  every  particle  of  the  Adion, 
give  more  Inftrudlion  than  all  the  Com- 
ments or  Glofles  in  the  world.     The  Poet, 
inftead   of  giving   himfelf  thofe    dictating 
and  mafterly  Airs  of  Wifdom,  makes  hard- 
ly any  figure  at  all,    and   is  fcarce  difco- 
verable  in  his  Poem.     This  is  being  truly 
a  Majier.     He  paints  fo  as  to  need  no  In- 
fcription  over  his  Figures,  to  tell  us  what 
they  are,  or  what  he  intends  by  'em.     A 
few  words  let  fall,  on  any  flight  occation, 
from  any  of  the  Partys  he  introduces,  are 
fufficient  to  denote  their  Manners  and  dif- 
tindt  Character.     From  a  Finger  or  a  Toe, 
he  can  reprefent  to  our  Thoughts  the  Frame 
and  Fafhion  of  a  whole  Body.     He  wants 
no  other  help  of  Art,  to  perfonate  his  He- 
roes, and  make  'em  living.     There  was  no 
more  left  for  I'ragedy  to  do  after  him,  than 
to  ereCt  a  Stage,  and  draw  his  Dialogues 
and  Characters  into  Scenes  -,  turning,  in  the 
fame  manner,   upon   one  principal  ACtion 
or  Event,   with  that  regard  to  Place  and 
N  4  Time 


ipS  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part   I.  Time  which  was  futable  to  a  real  Spedacle. 

^■^^V^^  Even  *  Comedy  it-felf  was  adjudg'd  to  this 
great  Mafler  j  it  being  deriv'd  from  thofc 
Parodys  or  Mock-Humours,  of  which  he 
had  given  the  -f-  Specimen  in  a  conceal'd 
fort  of  Raillery  intermix'd  with  the  Sub- 
lime.—-A  dangerous  Stroke  of  Art !  an4 
which  requir'd  a  mafterly  Hand,  like  that 
of  the  philofophical  Hero,  whofe  Charader 
was  reprefented  in  the  Dialogue-Writings^ 
above-mention'd. 

From  hence  pofTibly  we  may  form  a 
Tsotion  of  that  Refemblance,  which  on  fo 
many  occafions  was  heretofore  remark'd 
between  the  Prince  of  Poets,  and  the  Di- 
vine Philofopher,  who  was  faid  to  rival 
him,  and  who  together  with  his  Contem- 
porarys  of  the  fame  School,  writ  wholly 
in  that  mariner  of  Dialogue  above-de- 
fcrib'd.  From  hence  too  we  may  cqmr 
prehend  perhaps,  why  the  Study  of  Dia- 
logue was  heretofore  thought  fo  advanta- 
geous to  Writers^  aqd  why  this  manner  of 
Writing  was  judg'd  fo  difficult,  which  at 
firfl  fight,  it  muft  be  own'd,  appears  the 
cafiefl  of  any. 

I  H  A  Y  E  formerly  wonder'd  indeed  why 
a  Manner^    which  was  familiarly  us'd  ir> 

*  Infra,  pag.  246,  253.  hi  the  Notes. 

f  Not  only  in  his  Margites,  but  even  in  his  I/iad  aad 

Qdvfee, 

'■   ,  Treatifes 


Advice  to  an  Author.  1 99 

Treatifes  upon  moft  Subjects,  with  fo  muchSedt  3. 
Succefs  among  the  Antlents,  fhou'd  be  fo  w^v"V 
infipid  and  of  little  efteem  with  us  Mo- 
derns. But  I  afterwards  perceiv'd,  that 
bcfides  the  difficulty  of  the  Manner  it-felf, 
and  that  Mirrour-Facultyy  which  we  have 
obferv'd  it  to  carry  in  refpedt  of  our-fehes, 
it  proves  alfo  of  neceffity  a  kind  of  Mir- 
rour  or  Looking-Glafs  to  the  Age.  If 
fo  y  it  fhou'd  of  confequence  (you'll  fay) 
be  the  more  agreeable  and  entertaining. 

True ;  if  the  real  View  of  our-felves  be 
not  perhaps  difplealing  to  us.  But  why 
more  difpleafing  to  Us  than  to  the  An- 
cients ?  Becaufe  perhaps  they  cou'd 
with  juft  reafon  bear  to  fee  their  natural 
Countenances  reprefented.  And  why 
not  We  the  fame  ?  What  fhou'd  difcouragc 
us  ?  For  are  we  not  as  handfom,  at  leall 
in  our  own  eyes  F  Perhaps  not :  as  we 
fliall  fee,  when  we  have  confider'd  a  little 
further  what  the  force  is  of  this  Mir r our- 
Writing,  and  how  it  differs  from  that  more 
complaifant  modifh  way,  in  which  an  Au- 
thor, inflead  of  prefenting  us  with  other 
natural  Characters,  fets  off  his  own  with 
the  utmoft  Art,  and  purchafes  his  Reader's 
Favour  by  all  imaginable  Compliances  and 
Condefcenfions. 


AN   AUTHOR    who    writes   in   his 
9wn  Perfgn,    has  the  advantage  of  being 

who 


200  Adv I cii.  to  an  Author. 

Part  I. who  or  what  he  pleafes.  He  is  no  certain 
L/^Y^  Man,  nor  has  any  certain  or  genuine  Cha- 
rad:er:  but  futes  himfelf,  on  every  occa- 
iion,  to  the  Fancy  of  his  Reader,  whom, 
as  the  fafhion  is  now-a-days,  he  conftantly 
carefles  and  cajoles.  All  turns  upon  their 
two  Perfons.  And  as  in  an  Amour,  or 
Commerce  of  Love-Letters  5  fo  here  the 
Author  has  the  Privilege  of  talking  eter- 
nally of  himfelf,  dreffing  and  fprucing  him- 
felf up  ;  whilfl  he  is  making  diligent  court, 
and  working  upon  the  Humour  of  the 
Party  to  whom  he  addrelTes.  This  is  the 
Coquetry  of  a  modern  Author  j  whofe  Epi- 
ftles  Dedicatory,  Prefaces,  and  Addrefles 
to  the  Reader,  are  fo  many  affetSed  Graces, 
def5gn*d  to  draw  the  Attention  from  the 
Subject,  towards  Himfelf  i  and  make  it  be 
generally  obferv'd,  not  fo  much  what  he 
faysy  as  what  he  appears^  or  /V,  and  what 
figure  he  already  makes,  or  hopes  to  make, 
in  the  fafhionable  World. 
'■  '  ffi  :*... 

These  are  the  Airs  which  a  neigh- 
bouring Nation  give  themfelves,  more  par- 
ticularly in  what  they  call  their  Memotn. 
Their  very  Effays  on  Politicks,  their  Phi- 
lofophical  and  Critical  Works,  their  Com- 
ments upon  antient  and  modern  Authors, 
all  their  Treatifes  arc  Memoirs.  The  whole 
Writing  of  this  Age  is  become  indeed  a 
fort  Qi  Memoir -Writing,  Tho  in  the  real 
Memoirs  of  the  Antients,  even  when  they 
(.'  I  writ 


Advice  to  an  Author.  201 

Writ   at  any   time  concerning  themfelves,  Se(5t.  3« 
there  was  neither  the  /  nor  Thou  thro'-  '>^^\n^ 
out   the  whole  Work.      So   that  all   this 
pretty  Amour  and  Intercourfe  of  CarefTes 
between  the  Author  and  Reader  was  thus 
intirely  taken  away. 

Much  more  is  this  the  Ca{e  in  Dia- 
logue. For  here  the  Author  is  annihih- 
ted  3  and  the  Reader  being  no  way  apply 'd 
to,  Hands  for  No-body.  The  felf-intereft- 
ing  Partys  both  vaniih  at  once.  The  Scene 
prefents  it-felf,  as  by  chance,  and  unde- 
iign'd.  You  are  not  only  left  to  judg  cool- 
ly, and  with  indifference,  of  the  Senfe 
delivered  ;  but  of  the  Character,  Genius, 
Elocution,  and  Manner  of  the  Perfons 
who  deliver  it.  Thefe  two  are  mere  Stran- 
gers, in  whofe  favour  you  are  no  way  en- 
gag'd.  Nor  is  it  enough  that  the  Perfons 
introduc'd  fpeak  pertinent  and  good  Senfe, 
at  every  turn.  It  muft  be  feen  from  what 
Bottom  they  fpeak ;  from  what  Principle^ 
what  Stock  or  Fund  of  Knowledg  they 
draw ;  and  what  Kind  or  Species  of  Un- 
derftanding  they  poffefs.  For  the  Under- 
ftanding  here  muft  have  its  Mark,  its  cha- 
radteriftick  Note,  by  which  it  may  be  dif- 
tinguifh'd.  It  muft  hQ/ucb  andfuch  an  Un- 
der/landing ;  as  when  we  fay,  for  inftance, 
fiich  or  Juch  a  Face  :  fince  Nature  has  cha- 
'^raderiz'd  Tempers  and  Minds  as  peculiarly 
as  Faces,     And  for  anArtift  who  draws 

natu- 


202         .Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I. naturally,  *tis  not  enough  to  fhew  us  mere- 
t^VV^  ly  Faces  which  may  be  call'd  Men's :   Eve- 
ry Face  muft  be  a  certain  Man's. 

._  Now  as  a  Painter  who  draws  Battels 
or  other  Adions  of  Chrijliam,    lurks,   In^ 
dianSy    or  any  diftindt  and  peculiar  People, 
muft  of  neceffity  draw  the  feveral  Figures 
of  his  Piece  in  their  proper  and  real  Propor- 
tions,   Geftures,   Habits,  Arms,   or  at  leaft 
with  as  fair  refemblance  as  poffible  j   fo  in 
•     the  fame  manner  that  Writer,   whoever  he 
be,   among  us  Moderns,   who  (hall  venture 
.       to  bring  his  Fellow-Moderns    into  Dia^ 
W     logue,   muft  introduce  'em  in  their  proper 
^  Manners,  Genius,  Behaviour  and  Humour. 
And  this  is  the  Mirrour  or  Looking-Glafs 
above  defcrib'd. 

For  inftancc,  a  Dialogue,  we  will  fup- 
pofe,  is  fram'd,  after  the  manner  of  our 
antient  Authors.  In  it,  a  poor  Philofo- 
pher,  of  a  mean  figure,  accofts  one  of 
the  powerfuUeft,  wittieft,  handfomeft,  and 
richeft  Noblemen  of  the  time,  as  he  is 
walking  leifurely  towards  the  Temple. 
"  You  are  going  then,  fays  he,  (calling 
"  him  by  his  plain  name)  to  pay  your  De- 
*'  votions  yonder  at  the  Temple  ?  I 

"  am  fo.         But  with  an  Air  methinks, 
"  as  if  fome  Thought  perplex'd  you. 
"     What  is  there  in  the  Cafe  which  (hou'd 
*'  perplex  one  ?         The  Thought  perl;iap$ 

"of 


Advice  to  an  Author.  loj 

«*  of  your  Petitions,    and  the  Confidera-Sedt.  3.' 

*'  tion  what  Vows  you  had  beft  offer  to'-^^Y^ 

«  the  Deity.         Is  that  fo  difficult  ?    Can 

«  any  one  be  fo  foohfh  as  to  ask  of  Hea- 

«  ven  what  is  not  for  his  Good  ?        Not, 

"  if  he  underftands  what  his  Good  is. 

"  V^ho  can  millake  it,  if  he  has  common 

<*  Senfe,  and  knows  the  difference  between 

**  Profperity  and  Adverfity  ?         'Tis  Prof- 

"  ferity  therefore  you  wou'd  pray  for. 

**  Undoubtedly.        For  in  fiance,  that  abfo- 

**  lute  Sovereign,  who  commands  all  things 

"  by  virtue  of  his  immenfe  Treafures,   and 

"  governs  by  his  fole  Will  and  Pleafure, 

'*  him  you  think  profperous^   and  his  State 

«  happy:' 

Whilst  I  am  copying  this,  (for  *tis  no 
more  indeed  than  a  borrow'd  Sketch  from 
one  of  thofe  Originals  before-mention'd)  I 
fee  a  thoufand  Ridicules  arifing  from  the 
Manner,  the  Circumflances  and  Action  it- 
felf,  compar'd  with  modern  Breeding  and 
Civility.— Let  us  therefore  mend  the  mat- 
ter, if  poffible,  and  introduce  the  fame 
Philofopher,  addreffing  himfelf  in  a  more 
obfequious  manner,  to  his  Grace^  his  "Excel- 
lency ^  or  his  Honour ;  without  failing  in  the 
Icaft  tittle  of  the  Ceremonial.  Or  let  us 
put  the  Cafe  more  favourably  flill  for  our 
Man  of  Letters,  Let  us  fuppofe  him  to  be 
incognito^  without  the  leafl  appearance  of 
a  Charadtcr,  which  in  our  Age  is  fo  little 

recom- 


2 04  Advice  ta  an  Auriidtl 

I^rt  I.  recommending.  Let  his  Garb  and  Ad:ion 
t/v>J  be  of  the  more  modifh  fort,  in  order  to 
introduce  him  better,  and  gain  him  Au- 
dience. And  with  thefe  Advantages  and 
Precautions,  imagine  ftill  in  what  manner 
he  muft  accoft  this  Pageant  of  State,  if  at 
any  time  he  finds  him  at  leifure,  walking 
in  the  Fields  alone,  and  without  his  Equi- 
page. Confider  how  many  Bows,  and  lim- 
pering  Faces !  how  many  Preludes,  Excufes, 

Compliments! Now  put  Compliments, 

put  Ceremony  into  a  Dialogue,  and  fee 
what  will  be  the  EfFed ! 

This  is  the  plain  Dilemma  againft  that 
antient  manner  of  Writing,  which  we  can 
neither  well  imitate,  nor  tranljate  j  what- 
ever Pleafure  or  Profit  we  inay  find  in 
reading  thofe  Originals.  For  what  fhall 
we  do  in  fuch  a  Circumftance  ?  What  if 
the  Fancy  takes  us,  and  we  refolve  to  try 
the  Experiment  in  modern  Subjedls  ?  Sec 
the  Confequence  ! — If  we  avoid  Ceremo- 
ny, we  are  unnatural :  if  we  ufe  it,  and 
appear  as  we  naturally  are,  as  we  falute, 
and  meet,   and  treat  one  another,  we  hate 

the  Sight. What's  this  but  hating  our 

cwn  Faces  f  Is  it  the  Painters  Fault  ? 
Shou'd  he  paint  falfly,  or  afFededly  j  mix 
Modern  with  Antient,  join  Shapes  pre- 
pofteroufly,  and  betray  his  Art  ?  If  not  j 
what  Medium  is  there  ?  What  remains 
ior  him,   but  to  throw  away  the  Pencil  ? 

No 


Advice  to  an  Author.'  205 

' — No  more  defigning  after  the  Life  :  noSed:.  3, 
more  Mir  r  our -Writings  or  perfonal  Repre-  ^•v'v/, 
fentation  of  any  kind  whatever. 


THUS  Dialogue  is  at  an  end.  The 
Antients  cou'd  fee  their  own  Faces  j  but 
we  can't.  And   why  this  ?  Why, 

but  becaufe  we  have  lefs  Beauty :    for  (o 

our  Looking-Glafs  can  inform  us. 

Ugly  Inftrument !  And  for  this  reafon  to 
be  hated. Our  Commerce  and  man- 
ner of  Converfation,  which  we  think  the 
pohteil  imaginable,  is  fuch,  it  feems,  as 
we  our-felves  can't  endure  to  fee  repre- 
fented  to  the  Life.  'Tis  here,  as  in  our 
real  Portraitures,  particularly  thofe  at  full 
Length,  where  the  poor  Pencil-man  is  put 
to  a  thoufand  (hifts,  whilft  he  ftrives  to 
drefs  us  in  affeded  Habits,  fuch  as  we  ne- 
ver wore  ;  becaufe  fhou'd  he  paint  us  in 
thofe  we  really  wear,  they  wou'd  of  ne- 
cefTity  make  the  Piece  to  be  fo  much  more 
ridiculous,  as  it  was  more  natural,  and  re- 
fembling. 

Thus  much  for  Antiquity,  and  thofe 
Rules  of  Art,  thofe  Philojbphical  Sea-Car  Js, 
by  which  the  adventurous  Genius's  of  the 
Times  were  wont  to  fteer  their  Courfes, 
and  govern  their  impetuous  Mufe.  Thefe 
were  the  Char  t^  of  our  Roman  Mafter- 
Poet,    and  thefe  the  Pieces   of  Art,    the 

Mirrours, 


io6         Ad^ I tE  to  an  Author, 

Part  i.Mirrours,   the  Exemplars  he  bids  us  place 
v^v^^  before  our  Eyes. 

* Vos  Exemplaria  Graca 

NoBurnd  verjate  manu^  verfate  diurnd. 

And  thus  Poetry  and  the  Writer's  Art, 
as  in  many  refpeds  it  refembles  the  Sta- 
tuarfs  and  the  Painter' Sy  fc^  in  this  more 
particularly,  that  it  has  its  original  Draughts 
and  Models  for  Study  and  Prafticej    not 
for  Oftentation,    to  be  (hown  abroad,    or 
copy'd  for  publick  view.     Thefe  are  the 
antient  Bujis ;    the  Trunks  of  Statues ;   the 
Pieces  of  Aiiatomy  ;    the   mafterly    rough 
Drawings  which  are  kept  within  ;   as  the 
fecret  Learning,    the  Myftery,   and  funda- 
mental Knowledg  of  the  Art.     There  is 
this  eflential   difference  however  between 
the  Artifts  of  each  kind  ;    that  they  who 
delign  merely  after  Bodys,    and  form  the 
Graces  of  this   fort,    can  never  with  all 
their  Accuracy,   or  Corrednefs  of  Defign, 
be  able  to  reform  themfelves,    or  grow  a 
jot   more  fhapely   in  their   Perfons.      But 
for  thofe  Artifts  who  copy  from  another 
Life,    who  ftudy  the  Graces  and  Perfec- 
tions of  Minds,    and  are   real  Mafters  of 
thofe  Rules    which   conftitute   this  latter 
Science  ;   'tis  impoflible  they  ftiou'd  fail  of 
being  themfelves  improv'd,  and  amended  in 
their  better  Part, 

*  Hot.  dc  Arte  Poet.  v.  a68. 

I 


Advicb  to  an  Author.  20/ 

Sed:.  3. 

I  Must  confefs  there  Is  hardly  anyCy'^/^ 
where  to  be  found  a  more  infipid  Race 
of  Mortals,  than  thofe  whom  we  Moderns 
are  contented  to  call  Poets,  for  having  at- 
tain'd  the  chiming  Faculty  of  a  Language, 
with  an  injudicious  random  ufe  of  Wit 
and  Fancy.  But  for  the  Man,  who  truly 
and  in  a  juft  fenfe  deferves  the  Name  of 
Poet,  and  who  as  a  real  Mafter,  or  Archi- 
teft  in  the  kind,  can  defcribe  both  Me?!  and 
Manners,  and  give  to  an  A5lion  its  juft 
Body  and  Proportions  j  he  will  be  found, 
if  I  miftake  not,  a  very  different  Crea- 
ture. Such  a  Poet  is  indeed  a  fecond  Ma- 
ker ;  a  juft  Prometheus,  under  J  o  v  e. 
Like  that  Sovereign  Artift  or  univerfai 
Plaftick  Nature,  he  forms  a  Whole,  cohe- 
rent and  proportlon'd  in  it-felf,  with  due 
Subjection  and  Subordinacy  of  conftituent 
Parts.  He  notes  the  Boundarys  of  the 
Paffions,  and  knows  their  exad:  T'ones  and 
Meafures  j  by  which  he  juftly  reprefents 
them,  marks  the  Sublime  of  Sentiments 
and  Action,  and  diftinguiihes  the  Beautiful 
from  the  Deform  d,  the  Amiable  from  the 
Odious,  The  moral  Artift,  who  can  thus 
imitate  the  Creator,  and  Is  thus  knowing 
in  the  inward  Form  and  Strud:ure  of  his 
Fellow-Creature,  will  hardly,  I  prefume, 
be  found  unknowing  in  Himfelf  or  at  a 
lofs  in  thofc  Numbers  which  make  the 
Harmony   of  a  Mind.      For   K?iave?y    is 

Vol.  J.  O  mere 


2o8  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  I.  mere  Dijfonance  and  Dijproportion.  And 
v-^'V^  tho  Villains  may  have  ftrong  Tones  and 
natural  Capacitys  of  iVcSlion  ;  'tis  impoflible 
that  *  true  'Judgment  and  *Ingenuity  (hou'd 
relide,  where  Harmony  and  Honejiy  have  no 
being. 

*  The  Maxim  will  hardly  be  dlfprov'd  by  Fa£l  or  Hif- 
tory,  either  in  refpeft  of  Philofophers  themfelves,  or  others 
who  were  the  great  Genius's  or  Matters  in  the  liberal  Arts. 
The  Charafters  of  the  two  beft  Ro?nan  Poets  are  well 
known.  Thofe  of  the  antient  'iragedimis  no  lefs.  And 
the  great  Epick  Matter,  tho  of  an  obfcurer  and  remoter 
Age,  was  ever  prefum'd  to  be  far  enough  from  a  vile  or 
knavifli  Charadler.  The  Roman  as  well  as  the  Grecian 
Orator  was  true  to  his  Country ;  and  died  in  like  manner 
a  Martyr  for  its  Liberty.  And  thofe  Hiitorians  who  afe 
of  higheft  value,  were  either  in  a  private  Life  appro'v' d good 
Men,  or  noted  fuch  by  their  Aftions  in  the  Publick.  As 
for  Poets  in  particular,  fays  the  learned  and  wife  Strabo, 
*'  Can  we  poffibly  imagine,  that  the  Genius,  Power,  and 
"  Excellence  of  a  real  Poet  confifts  in  aught  elfe  than  the 
*'  juft  Imitation  of  Life,  in  form'd  Difcourfe  and  Num- 
*'  bers  ?  But  how  fhou'd  he  be  that  juft  Imitator  of  Life, 
*'  whiltt  he  himfelf  knows  not  its  Meafures,  nor  how  to 
"  guide  himfelf  by  Judgment  and  Underftanding  ?  For  we 
"  have  not  furely  the  fame  Notion  of  the  Poet's  Excel- 
"  lence  as  of  the  ordinary  Craftfman's,  the  Subjeftof  whofe 
"  Art  is  fenflefs  Stone  or  Timber,  without  Life,  Dignity, 
"  or  Beauty :  whiltt  the  Poet's  Art  turning  principally  on 
*'  Men  and  Manners,  he  has  his  Virtue  and  Excellence, 
"  as  Poet,  naturally  annex'd  to  human  Excellence,  and  to 
"  the  Worth  and  Dignity  of  Man.  Infomuch  that  'tis  im- 
*'  poffible  he  fnou'd  be  a  great  and  worthy  Poet,  who  is  not 
"  firft  a  worthy  and  good  Man."  *0v  j5)  K-rs>  (pa^JLiu  rriv  r 
TloinT^  A^slriv  eoi  Ji  TUcjovaV  ti  X<tJk%\uy,   &c.     »   5  is(ili\Tv 

mroiifjiiVj  (M  ^§oTi£^v  ytVfi^'v'lAa.i'I'^dyi.^ov.  Lib.  i.  See 
ie/onv,  pag.  278,  337.  and  350,  351.  in  the  Notes.  And 
VOL.  in.  pacr.  247,  248,  249,  273,  282. 

/     '  BUT 


i 


Advice  to  an  Author.  209 

Sedl.  3. 

BUT  having  enter'd  thus  feriouily  into 
the  Concerns  of  Authors^  and  {hewn  their 
chief  Foundation  and  Strength,  their  pre- 
paratory DifcipUne,  and  qualifying  Me- 
thod of  Self-Examination  j  'tis  fir,  ere  we 
difclofe  this  Myjiery  any  further,  we  fliou'd 
confider  the  Advantages  or  Difadvantages 
our  Authors  may  poffibly  meet  with,  from 
abroad  :  and  how  far  their  Genius  may  be 
deprefs'd  or  rais'd  by  any  external  Caufes, 
arifing  from  the  Humour  or  Judgment  of 
the  World, 

Whatever  it  be  which  influences  in 
this  rcfpedt,  muft  proceed  either  from  the 
Grandees  and  Men  in  Power^  the  C r  i- 
TICKS  and  Men  of  Art^  or  the  People 
themfelves,  the  common  Audience^  and  77iere 
Vulgar.  We  (hall  begin  therefore  with  the 
Grandees^  and  pretended  Mailers  of  the 
World  :  taking  the  liberty,  in  favour  of 
Authors,  to  bellow  fome  Advice  alfo  on 
thefe  high  Perfons ;  if  polTibly  they  are  dif- 
pos'd  to  receive  it  in  fugh  a  familiar  way  as 
this. 


O  1  PART 


210  Adyice  to  an  Authon 

Part  2. 


PART    II. 


SECT.     I. 

AS  ufual  as  it  is  with  Mankind  to  a6t 
abfolutely  by  Will  and  Plcafure, 
without  regard  to  Counfel,  or  the 
rigid  Method  of  Rule  and  Precept  ;  it 
muft  be  acknowledg'd  neverthelefs,  that 
the  good  and  laudable  Cuftom  of  asking 
Advice,  is  (lill  upheld,  and  kept  in  fafhion, 
as  a  matter  of  fair  Repute,  and  honoura- 
ble Appearance  :  Infomuch  that  even  Mo- 
narchs,  and  abfolute  Princes  themfelves, 
difdain  not,  we  fee,  to  make  profeflion  of 
the  Prad:ice.  i  •    . 

'Tis,  I  prefume,  on  this  account,  that 
the  Royal  Perfons  are  pleas'd,  on  publick 
Occafions,  to  make  ufe  of  the  noted  Style 
of  W  E  and  U  S.  Not  that  they  are  fup- 
pos'd  to  have  any  Converfe  with  'Them- 
J'eheSy  as  being  endow'd  with  the  Privilege 
of  becoming  Plural,  and  enlarging  their 
Capacity,  in  the  manner  above  defcrib'd. 
Single  and  abfolute  Perfons  in  Government, 

I'm 


Advice  to  an  Author.  t  \  i 

I'm  fenfible,  can  hardly  be  confider'd  asSedt.  i. 
any  other  than^«^/^  and  ahfolute  in  Mo-t/VN; 
rals.  They  have  no  J«;«^/^-Controuler  to 
cavil  with  'em,  or  difpute  their  Plealure. 
Nor  have  they,  from  any  Pradlice  abroad^ 
been  able  at  any  time  to  learn  the  way  of 
being  free  and  familiar  with  themfelves, 
at  home.  Inclination  and  Will  in 
fuch  as  thefe,  admit  as  little  Reftraint  or 
Check  in  private  Meditation  as  in  publick 
Company.  The  World,  which  ferves  as  a 
Tutor  to  Perfons  of  an  inferior  rank,  is 
fubmiflive  to  thefe  Royal  Pupils  j  who 
from  their  earlieft  days  are  us'd  to  fee  even 
their  InJiruSiors  bend  before  'em,  and  hear 
every  thing  applauded  which  they  them- 
felves perform. 

For  fear  therefore,  left  their  Humour 
merely,  or  the  Caprice  of  fome  Favourite, 
fhou'd  be  prefum'd  to  influence  'em,  when 
they  come  to  years  of  princely  Difcretion, 
and  are  advanc'd  to  the  Helm  of  Govern- 
ment ;  it  has  been  efteexu'd  a  neceifary 
Decency  to  fummon  certain  Advifers  by 
Profeffioriy  to  affift  as  Attendants  to  the 
Jingle  Perfon^  and  be  join'd  with  him  in 
,  his  written  Edicts,  Proclamations,  Letters- 
Patent,  and  other  Inflruments  of  Regal 
Power.  For  this  ufe,  Privy-Counfellors 
have  been  erected  ;  who  being  Perfons  of 
confiderable  Figure  and  wife  Afped,  cannot 
be  fuppos'd  to  ftand  as  Statues  or  mere 
O  3  Cyphers 


112  Advicu  to  an  Author. 

part  2. Cyphers  in  the  Government,  and  leave  the 

v-^V^^  Royal  A6ls  erroneoufly  and  falfly  defcrib'd 

to  us  in  the  Plural  Number  j  when,  at  the 

bottom,  a  ^ngle  Will  or  Fancy  was  the  fole 

Spring  and  Motive. 

Foreign  Princes  indeed  have  moft 
of  *em  that  unhappy  Prerogative  of  adting 
unadvifedly  and  wilfully  in  their  national 
Affairs :  But  'tis  known  to  be  far  other- 
wife  with  the  legal  and  jufl  Princes  of 
our  liland.  They  are  furrounded  with  the 
beft  of  CounfellorSj  the  Laws.  They  ad- 
minifter  Civil  Affairs  by  Legal  Officers, 
who  have  the  Diredion  of  their  Publick 
Will  and  Confcience :  and  they  annually 
receive  Advice  and  Aid^  in  the  mofl  ef- 
fectual manner,  from  their  good  People. 
To  this  wife  Genius  of  our  Conftitution 
we  may  be  juflly  faid  to  owe  our  wifeft 
and  befl  Princes;  whofe  High  Birth  or 
Royal  Education  cou'd  not  alone  be  fup- 
pos'd  to  have  given  'em  that  happy  Turn  : 
fmce  by  experience  we  find,  that  thofe 
very  Princes,  from  whofe  Condu(5t  the 
World  abroad,  as  well  as  We  at  home, 
have  reap'd  the  greatefl  Advantages,  were 
fuch  as  had  the  mofl  controverted  Titles ; 
and  in  their  youth  had  flood  in  the  remoter 
Profpedls  of  Regal  Power,  and  liv'd  the 
nearefl  to  a  private  Life. 

Other 


Advice  to  an  Author.  2 1  j 

Sea.  I. 
Other  Princes  we  have  had,  who  tho  (•'WJ 
difficult  perhaps  in  receiving  Counfel,  have 
been  eminent  in  the  Pra6lice  of  applying  it 
to  others.  They  have  lifted  themfelves  Ad- 
vifen  in  form ;  and  by  publifhing  their  ad- 
monitory Works,  have  added  to  the  number 
of  thofe,  v/hom  in  this  Treatife  wc  have 
prefum'd  to  criticize.  But  our  Criticifm 
being  withal  an  Apology  for  Authors^  and 
a  Defenfe  of  the  literate  Tribe ;  it  cannot 
be  thought  amifs  in  us,  to  join  the  Royal 
with  the  Plebeian  Penmen,  in  this  common 
Caufe. 

'T  w  o  u '  D  be  a  hard  Cafe  indeed, 
fhou'd  the  Princes  of  our  Nation  refufe  to 
countenance  the  induftrious  Race  of  Aii^ 
thors ;  fince  their  Royal  Anceftors,  and 
PredecelTors,  have  had  fuch  Honour  de- 
riv'd  to  'em  from  this  ProfeiTion.  'Tis  to 
this  they  owe  that  bright  Jewel  of  their 
Crown,  purchas'd  by  a  warlike  Prince  ; 
who  having  affum'd  the  Author^  and  ef- 
fay'd  his  Strength  in  the  polemick  Writings 
of  the  School-Divines,  thought  it  an  Ho- 
nour on  this  account  to  retain  the  Title  of 
Defender  of  the  Fa i t h. 

Another    Prince,    of  a  more  pacl- 

fkk  Nature  and  fluent  Thought,    fubmit- 

ting  Arm^   and   martial  Difcipline    to  the 

Gown ;    and  confiding  in  his  princely  Sci- 

O  4  ence 


214  Advice  to  an  Autlio% 

Part  2.ence  and  profound  Learning,  made  his 
\y>r\J  Style  and  Speech  the  Nerve  and  Sinew  of 
his  Government.  He  gave  us  his  Works 
full  of  wife  Exhortation  and  Advice  to  his 
Royal  Son,  as  well  as  of  Inftrudion  to 
his  good  People  -,  who  cou'd  not  without 
admiration  obferve  their  ^w^i^or-Sovereign, 
thus  fludious  and  contemplative  in  their 
behalf.  *Twas  then,  one  might  have  (ttn 
our  Nation  growing  young  and  docile, 
with  that  Simplicity  of  Heart,  which  qua- 
lify'd  'em  to  profit  like  a  Mo/^r-People 
under  their  Royal  Preceptor.  For  with 
abundant  Eloquence  he  gracioufly  gave 
Leffons  to  his  Parliament,  tutor'd  his  Mi- 
niflers,  and  edify 'd  the  greateft  Church- 
men and  Divines  themfelves ;  by  whofe 
Suffrage  he  obtain'd  the  higheft  Appella- 
tions which  cou'd  be  merited  by  the  acuteft 
Wit,  and  trueft  Underftanding.  From 
hence  the  Britijh  Nations  were  taught  to 
own  in  common  a  Solomon  for  their 
joint  Sovereign,  the  Founder  of  their  late 
compleated  Union.  Nor  can  it  be  doubted 
that  the  pious  Treatife  of  Self-Difcourfe 
afcrib'd  to  the  fucceeding  Monarch,  con- 
tributed in  a  great  meafure  to  his  glorious 
and  never-fading  Titles  of  Saint,  and 
Martyr. 

?■.''.»■  ,1  m 
However  It  be,  I  wou*d  not  willing- 
ly take  upon  me  to  recommend  this  Au- 
thor-Char a^er  to  our  future  Princes,  What- 
■jj~'..^  ever 


Advice  to  an  Author.  215 

ever  Crowns  or  Laurels  their  renown'd  Pre- Se6t.  i. 
decefTors  may  have  gather'd  in  this  Field  ^>^VNJ 
of  Honour ;  I  fhou'd  think  that  for  the  fu- 
ture, the  fpeculative  Province  might  more 
properly  be  committed  to  private  Heads. 
'Twou'd  be  a  fufficient  Encouragement  to 
the  learned  World,  and  a  fure  Earneft  of 
the  Increafe  and  Flourifhing  of  Letters  in 
our  Nation,  if  its  Sovereigns  wou'd  be 
contented  to  be  the  Patrons  of  Wit,  and 
vouehfafe  to  look  gracioufly  on  the  inge- 
nious Pupils  of  Art.  Or  were  it  the  Cuf- 
tom  of  their  Prime-Minifters,  to  have  any 
fuch  regard  ;  it  wou'd  of  it-felf  be  fufficient 
to  change  the  Face  of  Affairs.  A  fmall 
degree  of  Favour  wou'd  infure  the  For- 
tunes of  a  diftrefs'd  and  ruinous  Tribe, 
whofe  forlorn  Condition  has  help'd  to 
draw  Difgrace  upon  Arfs  and  ScienceSy 
and  kept  them  far  off  from  that  Polite- 
nefs  and  Beauty,  in  which  they  wou'd 
foon  appear,  if  the  afpiring  Genius  of  our 
Nation  were  forwarded  by  the  leaff  Care 
or  Culture. 

There  fliou'd  not,  one  wou'd  thinks 
be  any  need  of  Courtfliip  or  Perfuafion 
to  engage  our  Grandees  in  the  Patronage 
of  Arts  and  Letters.  For  in  our  Nation, 
upon  the  foot  Things  ftand,  and  as  they 
are  likely  to  continue;  'tis  not  difficult  to 
forefee  that  Improvements  will  be  made 
in  every  Art  and  Science.     The  Muses 

will 


1x6  ADYict  to  aji  Author. 

Part  2.  will  have  their  Turn  j  and  with  or  without 
t/^VNJ  their  M  iE  c  e  n  A  s's  will  grow  in  Credit  and 
Efleem  -,  as  they  arrive  to  greater  Perfec- 
tion, and  excel  in  every  kind.  There  will 
arife  fuch  Spirits  as  wou'd  have  credited 
their  Court-Patrons,  had  they  found  any  fo 
wife  as  to  have  fought  'em  out  betimes,  and 
contributed  to  their  riling  Greatnefs. 

'Tis  fcarce  a  quarter  of  an  Age  fmce 
fuch  a  happy  Balance  of  Power  was  fet- 
tled between  our  Prince  and  People,  as 
has  firmly  fecur'd  our  hitherto  precarious 
Libertys,  and  remov'd  from  us  the  Fear 
of  civil  Commotions,  Wars  and  Violence, 
either  on  account  of  Religion  and  Worfhip, 
the  Property  of  the  Subjedl,  or  the  con- 
tending Titles  of  the  Crown.  But  as  the 
greateft  Advantages  of  this  World  are  not 
to  be  bought  at  eafy  Prices ;  we  are  ftill 
at  this  moment  expending  both  our  Blood 
and  Treafure,  to  fecure  to  our-felves  this 
ineftimable  Purchafe  of  our  Free  Govern- 
ment and  National  Conftitution.  And  as 
happy  as  we  are  in  this  Eftablifhment  at 
home ;  we  are  ftill  held  in  a  perpetual 
Alarm  by  the  Afpe6t  of  Affairs  abroad,  and 
by  the  Terror  of  that  Power,  which  ere 
Mankind  had  well  recover'd  the  Mifery 
of  thofe  barbarous  Ages  confequent  to  the 
Roman  Yoke,  has  again  threaten'd  the 
World   with   a  Univerfal  Monarchy,   and 


Advice  to  an  Author.  217 

a  new  Abyfs  of  Ignorance   and   Superfli- Secfl.  i. 
tion.  v-^V"^ 

The  British  Muses,  in  this  Dinn 
of  Arms,  may  well  lie  abje6t  and  obfcure ; 
efpecially  being  as  yet  in  their  mere  Infant- 
State.  They  have  hitherto  fcarce  arriv'd  to 
any-thing  of  Shapelinefs  or  Perlbn.  They 
lifp  as  in  their  Cradles :  and  their  ftammer- 
ing  Tongues,  which  nothing  befides  their 
Youth  and  Rawnefs  can  excufe,  have  hi- 
therto fpoken  in  wretched  Pun  and  Quib- 
ble. Our  Dramatick  Shakespear,  our 
Fletcher,  Johnson,  and  our  Epick 
Milton  preferve  this  Style.  And  even 
a  latter  Race,  fcarce  free  of  this  Infirmity, 
and  aiming  at  a  falfe  Sublime^  with  crouded 
Simiky  and  mixd  Metaphor,  (the  Hobby- 
Horfe,  and  Rattle  of  the  Muses)  enter- 
tain our  raw  Fancy,  and  unprad:is'd  Ear ; 
which  has  not  as  yet  had  leifure  to  form 
it-felf,  and  become  *  truly  miijkal. 

But  thofe  reverend  Bards,  rude  as  thev 
were,  according  to  their  Time  and  Age, 
have  provided  us  however  with  the  richell 
Ore.  To  their  eternal  Honour  they  have 
withal  been  the  fiid  of  Europeans, 
who  fmce  the  G ot  h  i  c k  Model  of  Poetry, 
attempted  to  throw  off  the  horrid  Difcord 
of  jingling  Rhyme.      They  have  aflerted 

•  VOL.  III.  /.  263, 264. 

antient 


21 8  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.antient  Poetick  Liberty ^  and  have  happily 
t*^VN;  broken  the  Ice  for  thofe  who  are  to  follow 
'em ;  and  who  treading  in  their  Footileps, 
may  at  leifure  polifh  our  Language,  lead 
our  Ear  to  finer  Pleafure,  and  find  out  the 
true  RhythmuSy  and  harmonious  Numbers, 
which  alone  can  fatisfy  a  juft  Judgment, 
and  Mufe-like  Apprehenfion. 

'T I  s  evident,  our  natural  Genius  (bines 
above  that  airy  neighbouring  Nation ;  of 
whom,  however,  it  muft  be  confefs'd,  that 
with  truer  Pains  and  Induflry,  they  have 
fought  Politenefs,  and  ftudy'd  to  give  the 
Muses  their  due  Body  and  Proportion, 
as  well  as  the  natural  Ornaments  of  Cor- 
redtnefs,  Chaftity,  and  Grace  of  Style. 
From  the  plain  Model  of  the  Anticnts, 
they  have  rais'd  a  noble  *  Satirift,  In  the 
Epick  Kind  their  Attempts  have  been  lefs 
fuccefsful.  In  the  Dramatick  they  have 
been  fo  happy,  as  to  raife  their  Stage  to 
as  great  Perfection,  as  the  Genius  of  their 
Nation  will  permit.  But  the  high  Spirit  of 
tragedy  can  ill  fubfift  where  the  Spirit  of 
Liberty  is  wanting.  The  Genius  of  this 
Poetry  confifts  in  the  lively  Reprefentation 
of  the  Diforders  and  Mifery  of  the  Great  -, 
to  the  end  that  the  People  and  thofe  of  a 
lower  Condition  may  be  taught  the  better 
to  content  themfelves  with  Privacy,  enjoy 
their  fafer  State,  and  prize  the  Equality 

*  BoiLEAlr. 

and 


Advice  to  an  Author.  up 

and  Juftice  of  their  Guardian  Laws.  IfSed:.  i. 
this  be  found  agreeable  to  the  juft  Tragick  ^.•v^^ 
Models  which  the  Antients  have  deUver'd 
to  us  J  'twill  eafily  be  conceiv'd  how  little 
fuch  a  Model  is  proportion'd  to  the  Capa- 
city or  Tafte  of  thofe,  who  in  a  long  Se- 
ries of  Degrees,  from  the  lowefl  Peafant 
to  the  high  Slave  of  Royal  Blood,  are 
taught  to  idolize  the  next  in  Power  above 
*em,  and  think  nothing  fo  adorable  as  that 
unlimited  Greatnefs,  and  tyrannick  Power, 
which  is  rais'd  at  their  own  Expence,  and 
exercis'd  over  themfehes, 

'Tis  eafy,  on  the  other  hand,  to  ap- 
prehend the  Advantages  of  our  Britain 
in  this  particular ;  and  what  effedl  its  efta- 
blifh'd  Liberty  will  produce  in  every  thing 
which  relates  to  Art^  when  Peace  returns 
to  us  on  thefe  happy  Conditions.  'Twas 
the  Fate  of  Rome  to  have  fcarce  an  inter- 
mediate Age,  or  fingle  Period  of  Time,  be- 
tween the  Rife  of  Arts  and  Fall  of  Liberty. 
No  fooner  had  that  Nation  begun  to  lofe 
the  Roughnefs  and  Barbarity  of  their  Man- 
ners, and  learn  of  G  r  e  e  c  e  to  form  their 
Heroes^  their  Orators  and  Poets  on  a  right 
Model,  than  by  their  unjuft  Attempt  upon 
the  Liberty  of  the  World,  they  juftly  loft 
their  own.  With  their  Liberty  they  loft 
not  only  their  Force  of  Eloquence,  but 
even  their  Style  and  Language  it-felf.  The 
Poets  who  afterwards  arofe  among  them, 
I  were 


220  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  were    mere   unnatural    and    forc'd   Plants. 

C/^VV)  Their  Two  moft  accomplifh'd,  who  came 
laft,  and  clos'd  the  Scene,  were  plainly 
fuch  as  had  feen  the  Days  of  Liberty,  and 
felt  the  fad  Effedts  of  its  Departure.  Nor 
had  thefe  been  ever  brought  in  play,  other- 
wife  than  thro'  the  Friendfhip  of  the  fam'd 
M  iE  c  E  N  A  s,  who  turn'd  a  *  Prince  natu- 
rally cruel  and  barbarous  to  the  Love  and 
Courtfliip  of  the  Muses.  Thefe  Tuto- 
reffes  form'd  in  their  Royal  Pupil  a  new 
Nature.  They  taught  him  how  to  charm 
Mankind.  They  were  more  to  him  than 
his  Arms  or  military  Virtue  ;  and,  more 
than  Fortune  her-felf,  aflifted  him  in  his 
Greatnefs,  and  made  his  ufurp'd  Dominion 
fo  inchanting  to  the  World,  that  it  cou'd 
fee  without  regret  its  Chains  of  Bondage 
firmly  riveted.  The  corrupting  Sweets  of 
fuch  a  poifonous  Government  were  not 
indeed  long-liv'd.  The  Bitter  foon  fuc- 
ceeded.  And,  in  the  iffue,  the  World  was 
forc'd  to  bear  with  patience  thofe  natural 
and  genuine  Tyrants,  who  fucceeded  to 
this  fpecious  Machine  of  Arbitrary  and 
Univerfal  Power. 

And  now  that  I  am  fall'n  unawares  in- 
to fuch  profound  Reflections  on  the  Pe- 
riods of  Government,  and  the  Flourifliing 
and  Decay  of  Liberty  and  Letters  5  I  can't 

*  Infrat  p.  269,  270.  in  the  Notes, 

be 


Advice  to  an  Author.  221 

be  contented  to  confider  merely  of  theSedt.  i. 
Inchantment  which  wrought  fo  powerfully  ^^^V>< 
uoon  Mankind,  when  firft  this  Univerfal 
Monarchy  was  eftablifli'd.  I  muft  won- 
der ftill  more,  when  I  confider  how  after 
the  Extindlion  of  this  Cesarean  and. 
Cl  AUDI  AN  Family,  and  a  fhort  Interval 
of  Princes  rais'd  and  deftroy'd  with  much 
Diforder  and  publick  Ruin,  the  Romans 
{hou'd  regain  their  perifliing  Dominion, 
and  retrieve  their  finking  State,  by  an 
after-Race  of  wife  and  able  Princes  fuc- 
cefTively  adopted,  and  taken  from  a  pri- 
vate State  to  rule  the  Empire  of  the 
World.  They  v/ere  Men  who  not  only 
poflefs'd  the  military  Virtues,  and  fupported 
that  fort  of  Difcipline  in  the  higheil  de- 
gree ;  but  as  they  fought  the  Interefl  of 
the  World,  they  did  what  was  in  their 
power  to  reftore  Liberty^  and  raife  again 
the  perifhing  Arts^  and  decay'd  Virtue  of 
Mankind.  But  the  Seafon  was  now  paft! 
The  fatal  Form  of  Government  was  be- 
come too  natural :  And  the  World,  which 
had  bent  under  it,  and  was  become  llavifh 
and  dependent,  had  neither  Power  nor 
Will  to  help  it-felf.  The  only  Deliverance 
it  cou'd  exped:,  was  from  the  mercilefs 
hands  of  the  Barbarians,  and  a  total  Diffo- 
lution  of  that  enormous  Empire  and  de- 
fpotick  Power,  which  the  beft  Hands  cou'd 
not  preferve  from  being  deftrudlive  to  hu- 
man Nature.  For  even  Barbarity  and  Go- 
2  thicijm 


zti  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  thicifm  were  already  enter'd  into  Arts,  ere 
O^VVJ  the  Savages  had  made  any  Impreflion  on 
the  Empire.  All  the  advantage  which  a 
fortuitous  and  almoft  miraculous  Succeflion 
of  good  Princes  cou'd  procure  their  highly 
favour'd  Arts  and  Sciences,  was  no  more 
than  to  preferve  during  their  own  time 
thofe  *  perifliing  Remains,  which  had  for 
a-while  with  difficulty  fubfifted,  after  the 
Decline  of  Liberty.  Not  a  Statue,  not  a 
Medal,  not  a  tolerable  Piece  of  Architecture 
cou'd  {hew  it-felf  afterwards.  Philofophy, 
Wit  and  Learning,  in  which  fome  of  thofe 
good  Princes  had  themfelves  been  fo  re- 
nown'd,  fell  with  them :  and  Ignorance 
and  Darknefs  overfpread  the  World,  and 
fitted  it  for  the  Chaos  and  Ruin  which 
enfu'd. 


WE  ARE  now  in  an  Age  when  Li- 
berty is  once  again  in  its  Afcendent. 
And  we  are  our-felves  the  happy  Nation, 
wlio  not  only  enjoy  it  at  home,  but  by  our 
Greatnefs  and  Power  give  Life  and  Vigour 
to  it  abroad  j  and  are  the  Head  and  Chief 
of  the  European  League^  founded  on 
this  Common  Caufe.  Nor  can  it,  I  pre- 
fume,  be  juftly  fear'd  that  we  fliou'd  lofe 
this  noble  Ardour,  or  faint  under  the  glo- 
rious Toil ;  tho,  like  antient  Greece,  we 
{hou'd  for  fucceeding  Ages  be  contending 

*  In/ray  p.  239,  341, 342.  in  the  Notes. 

with 


Advice  to  an  Author.  223 

with  a  foreign  Power,  and  endeavouring  Sedt.  i, 
to  reduce  the  Exorbitancy  of  a  Grand  ^^y^V^ 
Monarch.  'Tis  with  us  at  prefent,  as  with 
the  Roman  People  in  thofe  *  early  Days, 
■when  they  wanted  only  repofe  from  Arms 
to  apply  themfelves  to  the  Improvement 
of  Arts  and  Studys.  We  fhou'd,  in  this 
cafe,  need  no  ambitious  Monarch  to  be 
allur'd,  by  hope  of  Fame  or  fecret  views 
of  Power,  to  give  Penlions  abroad,  as 
well  as  at  home,  and  purchafe  Flattery 
from  every  Profeflion  and  Science.  We 
ihou'd  find  a  better  Fund  within  our- 
felves ;  and  might,  without  fuch  Affiftance, 
be  able  to  excel,  by  our  own  Virtue  and 
Emulation. 

Well  it  wou'd  be  indeed,  and  much 
to  the  Honour  of  our  Nobles  and  Princes, 
wou'd  they  freely  help  in  this  Affair ;  and 
by  a  judicious  Application  of  their  Boun- 
ty, facilitate  this  happy  Birth,  of  which 
I  have  ventur'd  to  fpeak  in  a  prophetick 
Style.  'Twou'd  be  of  no  fmall  advantage 
to  'em  during  their  Life ;  and  wou'd  more 
than  all  their  other  Labours  procure  'em 
an  immortal  Memory.  For  they  mufl  re- 
member that  their  Fame  is  in  the  hands 
of  Penmen;  and  that  the  greatefl  A<^iop§ 

*  Serus  enim  Gracis  admovit  aeumina  Chartis  i 
Et  pofl  Punica  Bella  quietusy  queerere  ccepity 
^id  Sophocles  &  The/pis  ^  JEfchylus  utile  ferrent. 

Hor.  Epilt.  I.  Lib.  2. 

Vol.  I.  P  \ok 


114  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.1ofe  their  Force,  and  perifh  in  the  cuftody 
^•i^^V^^  of  unable  and  mean  Writers. 

.  Let  a  Nation  remain  ever  fo  rude  or 
barbarous,  it  muft  have  its  Poefs,  Rhapfin 
ders,  Hijiorkgrapheny  Antiquarys  of  fome 
kind  or  other;  whofe  bulinefs  it  will  be 
to  recount  its  remarkable  Tranfadtions, 
and  record  the  AtchieVements  of  its  Cm/ 
and  Military  Heroes.  And  tho  the  Mili- 
tary Kind  may  happen  to  be  the  furtheft  re- 
mov'd  from  any  acquaintance  with  Letters, 
br  the  Muses;  they  are  yet^  in  reality, 
the  moft  interefted  in  the  Caufe  and  Par- 
--ty  of  thefe  Remembrancen.  The  greatefl 
{hare  of  Fame  and  Admiration  falls  natu- 
rally on  the  armd  Worthy s.  The  Great 
in  Coicncii  are  fecond  in  the  Muses  Fa- 
vour. But  if  worthy  poetick  Genius  s  ate 
not  found,  nor  able  Penmen  rais'd,  to  re- 
hearfe  the  Lives,  and  celebrate  the  high 
Actions  of  great  Men,  they  muft  be  tra- 
duc'd  by  fuch  Recorders  as  Chance  prefents. 
We  have  few  modern  Heroes,  who  like 
XenophoM  or  CiESAR  can  write  their 
own  Commefitarys.  And  the  raw  Memoir- 
-Writings  and  unform'd  Pieces  of  modern 
Statefmen,  full  of  their  interefted  and  pri- 
•'Vate  Views,  will  in  another  Age  be  of 
little  fervice  to  fupport  their  Memory  or 
Name ;  lince  already  the  World  begins  to 
licken  with  the  Kind.  'Tis  the  learn'd, 
the  able,  and  difinterefted  Hijiortan^  who 
i:.'*  takes 


Advice  to  an  Author.  ziy 

takes  place  at  laft.     And  when  the  lignalSec^.  jr. 
Poet,    or  Herald  of  Fame   is   once   heard,  (/VNJ 
the  inferior  Trumpets  iink  in  Silence  and 
Oblivion. 

But  fuppofing  it  were  pofTible  for  the 
Jlero^   or  Statefmariy    to  be  abfolutely  un- 
<:Qncern'd  for  his  Memory,  of  what  catne 
after   him ;    yet    for    the    prefent   merely, 
and  dwnng  his  own  time,   it  muft  be  of 
importance  to  him  to  ftand  fair  with  the 
Men    of  Letters    and    Ingenuity,    and    to 
have  the  Chara<^er  and  Repute  of  being 
favourable  to  their  Art.     ]3e  the  illuftrious 
Perfon  ever  fo  high  or  awful  in  his  Station; 
he  muft  have  Defcriptions  made  of  him, 
in  Verfe,  and  Profe,  under  feign'd,  or  real 
Appellations.     If  he  be  omitted  in  found 
Ode,  or  lofty  Epick-j  he  muft  be  fung  at 
leaft  in  Doggrel  and  plain  Ballad.      The 
People  will   needs   have  his  Effigies  j    tho 
they  fee  his  Perfon  ever  fo  rarely :  And  if 
he  r-efufes  to  ftt  to  the  good  Painter,  there 
are  others  who,  to  oblige  the  Publick,  will 
take  the  Deftgn   in  hand.     We  (hall  take 
,up  with  what  prefents ;  and   rather  than 
be  without  the  illuftrious  Phyfiognomy  of 
pur  great  Man,    fhall  be  contented  to  fee 
him  portraitur'd  by  the  Artift  who  ferves 
to  illuftrate  Prodigys  in  Fairs,   and  adorn 
heroick  Sign-Po/ls.     The  ill  Paint  of  this 
kind  cannot,  it's  true,  difgrace  his  Excel- 
lency; whofe  Privilege  it  is,  in  common 
P  z  ^iih 


> 


I2i5  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2r^with  the  Royal  Iflue,  to  be  rais'd  to  this 
c/VX;  degree  of  Honour,  and  to  invite  the  Paf- 
fenger  or  Traveller  by  his  fignal  Reprefen- 
tative.  'Tis  fuppos'd  in  this  Cafe,  that 
there  are  better  Pidlures  current  of  the 
Hero  J  and  that  fuch  as  thefe,  are  no  true 
or  favourable  Reprefentations.  But,  in 
another  fort  of  Limning,  there  is  great 
danger  left  the  Hand  ftiou'd  difgrace  the 
Subject.  Vile  Encomiums,  and  wretched 
Panegyricks  are  the  worft  of  Satirs :  And 
when  fordid  and  low  Genius's  make  their 
Court  fuccefsfully  in  one  way,  the  gene^ 
rous  and  able  are  apteft  to  revenge  it  in 
another. 


ALL  THINGS  confider'd,  as  to  the 
Intereft  of  our  Potentates  and  Grandees, 
they  appear  to  have  only  this  Choice  left 
'em  ',  either  wholly,  if  poffible,  to  fup- 
prefs  Letters ;  or  give  a  helping  hand 
towards  their  Support.  Wherever  the  j^u- 
//6(?r-Prad:ice  and  Liberty  of  the  Pen  has 
•in  the  leaft  prevail'd,  the  Governors  of 
the  State  muft  be  either  conliderable 
Gainers,  or  Sufferers  by  its  means.  So 
that  'twou'd  become  them  either,  by  a 
right  Turkifh  Policy,  to  ftrike  diredly  at 
the  ProfeJJion,  and  overthrov*^  the  very  Art 
and  Myjiery  it-felf,  or  with  Alacrity  to  fup- 
port  and  encourage  it,  in  the  right  man- 
ner, by  a  generous  and  impartial  regard  to 
.     ♦'  Merit. 


ApviCB  to  an  Author.  227 

Merit.  To  adt  narrowly,  or  by  halves  i  Secft.  i. 
or  with  indifference  and  coolne£s ;  or  ^^^'V"^-^ 
fantaftically,  and  by  humour  merely  ; 
will  fcarce  be  found  to  turn  to  their  ac- 
count. They  muft  do  Juftice  ^  that  Juf- 
flice  may  be  done  them,  in  return.  'Twill 
be  in  vain  for  our  Alexanders  to  give 
orders  that  none  belides  a  Lysippus 
fhou'd  make  their  Statue,  nor  any  befides 
an  Apelles  fhou'd  draw  their  Pid:ure. 
Infolent  Intruders  will  do  themfelves  the 
honour  to  pradlife  on  the  Features  of  thefe 
Heroes.  And  a  vile  Ch^rilus,  after 
all,  fhall,  with  their  own  Confent  perhaps, 
fupply  the  room  of  a  deferving  and  noble 
Artift. 

In  a  Government  where  the  People  are 
Sharers  in  Power,  but  no  Diftributers  or 
Difpenfers  of  Rewards,  they  expedt  it  of 
their  Princes  and  Great  A/i?;/,  that  they 
fhou'd  fupply  the  generous  Part ;  and  be- 
flow  Honour  and  Advantages  on  thofe 
from  whom  the  Nation  it-felf  may  receive 
Honour  and  Advantage.  'Tis  expected 
that  they  who  are  high  and  eminent  in  the 
Statej  fhou'd  not  only  provide  for  its  ne- 
ceffary  Safety  and  Subliflence,  but  omit 
nothing  which  may  contribute  to  its  Dig- 
nity and  Honour.  The  Arts  and  Sciences 
muft  not  be  left  Patron-lefs,  The  Publick 
it-felf  will  join  with  the  good  Wits  and 
Judges,  in  the  refentment  of  fuch  a  Neg- 
P  3  led. 


ii?         A»ric£  t6  an  Author, 

Part  2.1e(^.  'Tis  nd  fmall  advamag€,  even  in  an 
^y^Y\^  abjblme  Government ^  for  Ji  Miniftfy  to 
have  PFit  on  their  fide,  and  Engage  the  Men 
of  Merit  in  this  kind  to  be  theif  Well- 
xvi{hef8  and  Friends.  And  in  thofe  States 
ti^here  ambitious  Leaders  6ften  contend 
for  the  fupreme  Authority,  'tis  a  confide- 
fable  advantage  to  the  ill  Caufe  of  fuch 
Pretenders,  when  they  can  obtain  a  Name 
'  and   Intereft    with    the   Men   of   Letters* 

The  good  Emperor  TraJAN,  tho  himfelf 
no  mighty  Scholar,  had  his  due  as  Well  as 
an  Augustus;  and  Was  as  highly  cele- 
brated for  his  Munificence,  and  juft  En- 
couragement of  every  Art  and  Virtue. 
And  C^sAR,  who  cou'd  write  fo  Well 
himfelf,  and  maintain'd  his  Caufe  by  Wit 
as  well  as  Arms,  knew  experimentally  what 
it  Was  to  have  even  aCATutLlJs  his 
EneOiy:  and  tho  lafti'd  fo  often  in  his 
Lampoons,  cOntinu'd  to  forgive  and  court 
him.  The  Traitor  knew  the  Importance 
of  this  MildneJ}.  May  none  who  have  the 
iame  Defighs,  underftand  {o  well  the  ad- 
Vantages  of  fuch  a  Condu^  !  I  wou*d  have 
requir'd  only  this  One  Defeat  in  Cesar's 
Geiierofity,  to  have  been  fecure  of  his  ne- 
tef  rifing  to  Greatnefs,  or  enflaving  hii 
native  Country.  Let  him  have  fhewn  a 
Ruggednefs  and  Aufterity  towards  free 
Genius's,  or  a  Neglect  or  Contempt  to- 
wards Men  of  Wit ;  let  him  have  trufted 
,'  to  his  Arms,  and  declar'd  againft  Arts  and 
i  1  Letters', 


Advice  to  an  Author,         a 29 

Letters  y  and  he  wou'd  have  proved  a  fe-Sed:.  \* 
cond  Marius,  or  a  Catiline  of s,^\r^ 
meaner  Faroe,  and  Charader. 

'T I  s,  I  know,  the  Imagination  of  fome 
who  are  call'd  Great  Men^  that  in  regard 
of  their  high  Stations  they  may  be  efleem'd 
to  pay  a  fufficient  Tribute  to  Letters,  and 
difcharge  themfelves  as  to  their  own  part 
in  particular  ;  if  they  chufe  indifferently 
any  Subjed;  for  their  Bounty,  and  are 
plcas'd  to  confer  their  Favour  either  on 
fome  one  Pretender  to  Art,  or  promif- 
cuoufly  to  fuch  of  the  Tribe  of  Writers, 
whofe  chief  Ability  has  lain  in  making 
their  court  well,  and  obtaining  to  be  in- 
troduc'd  to  their  Acquaintance.  This  they 
think  fufficient  to  inftal  them  Patrom  of 
Witj  and  Mailers  of  the  literate  Order, 
But  this  Method  will  of  any  other  the 
lead  ferve  their  Intereft  or  Delign.  The 
ill  placing  of  Rewards  is  a  double  Injury 
to  Merit ;  and  in  every  Caufe  or  Intereil, 
pafles  for  worfe  than  mere  Indifference  or 
Neutrality.  There  can  be  no  Excufe  for 
making  an  ill  Choice.  Merit  in  every 
kind  is  eafily  difcover'd,  when  fought. 
The  Publick  it-felf  fails  not  to  give  fuffi- 
cient indication  j  and  points  out  thofe 
Genius  s  who  want  only  Countenance  and 
Encouragement  to  become  confiderable. 
An  ingenious  Man  never  ftarves  unknown: 
and  Great  Men  muft  wink  hard,  or  'twou'd 
P  4  be 


i^o  Advice  to  an  Authot, 

t'art  2. be  impoffible  for  *em  to  mifs  fuch  advan- 
t/^V^  tageous  Opportunitys  of  {hewing  their 
Generofity,  and  acquiring  the  univerfal  E- 
fteem,  Acknowledgments,  and  good  Wiflies 
of  the  ingenious  and  learned  part  of  Man- 
kind. 

SECT.    ir. 

WHAT  Judgment  therefore  we  are 
to  form,  concerning  the  Influence 
of  our  Grandees  in  matters  of  Art,  and 
Letters,  will  eafily  be  gather'd  from  the 
Refled:ions  already  made.  It  may  appear 
from  the  very  Freedom  we  have  taken  in 
cenfuring  thefe  Men  of  Power,  what  little 
reafon  Authors  have  to  plead  'em  as  their 
Excufe  for  any  Failure  in  the  Improve- 
tnent  of  their  Art  and  Talent.  For  in  a 
free  Country,  fuch  as  ours,  there  is  not 
any  Order  or  Rank  of  Men,  more  frcQ 
than  that  of  Writers :  who  if  they  have 
real  Ability  and  Merit,  can  fully  right 
themfelves  when  injur'd ;  and  are  ready 
furnifli'd  with  Means,  fufficient  to  make 
themfelves  confider'd  by  the  Men  in  higheft 
Power. 

N  o  ft  {hou*d  I  fufpedl  the  Genius  of 
our  Writers,  or  charge  'em  with  Mean- 
nefs  and  Infufficiency  on  the  account  of 
this  Low-fpiritednefs  which  they  difcover ; 
were  it  not  for  another  fort  of  Fear,  by 

which 


Advice  to  an  Author.  -       2ji 

which  they  more  plainly  betray  themfelves,  Sedt.  2. 
and  feem  confcious  of  their  own  Defed:.  ^*^V^^ 
The  Criticks,  it  feems,  are  formidable 
to  'em.  The  Criticks  are  the  dreadful 
Spe^crs,  the  Giants,  the  Enchanters,  who 
traverfe  and  difturb  'em  in  their  Works. 
Thefe  are  the  Perfecutors,  for  whofe  fake 
they  are  ready  to  hide  their  heads ;  beg- 
ging refcue  and  protection  of  all  good  Peo- 
ple ;  and  flying  in  particular  to  the  Great, 
by  whofe  Favour  they  hope  to  be  defended 
from  this  mercilefs  examining  Race.  "  For 
'  what  can  be  more  cruel,  than  to  be  forc'd 
'  to  fubmit  to  the  rigorous  Laws  of  Wit, 
'  and  write  under  fuch  fevere  'Judges  as  are 

*  deaf  to  all  Courtfliip,  and  can  be  wrought 

*  upon  by  no  Infmuation  or  Flattery    to 
'  pafs  by  Faults,  and  pardon  any  Tranf- 

*  greffionof^r^.?"  ^" 

T  o  judg  indeed  of  the  Circumftances 
of  a  modern  Author,  by  the  Pattern  of  his 
*  Prefaces,  Dedications,  and  IntroduBions, 
one  wou'd  think  that  at  the  moment  when 
a  Piece  of  his  was  in  hand,  fome  Conju- 
ration was  forming  againft  him,  fome  dia-'^ 
bolical  Powers  drawing  together  to  blaft 
his  Work,  and  crofs  his  generous  Defign. 
He  therefore  rouzes  his  Indignation,  har- 
dens his  Forehead,    and   with   many  fu- 

■  *  Infra,  p.  329,  330.     And  VOL.  III.  /.  259,  277.  in 
^c  Notes. 

rious 


ip  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.rious  Defiances  and  ^vant-SAT ans\  en^ 
iy^Y^  tcrs  on  his  Bufinefs  j  not  with  the  leaft 
regard  to  what  may  juftly  be  objedled  to 
him  in  a  way  of  Criticism;  but  with 
an  abfolute  Contempt  of  the  Manner  and 
Art  it-felf. 

Odi  profanum  vulgus  &  arceOy  was  in 
its  time,  no  doubt,  a  generous  'Defiance. 
The  Avant!  was  natural  and  proper  in  its 
place ;  efpecially  where  Religion  and  Vir- 
tue were  the  Poet's  Theme.  But  with 
^  our    Moderns    the   Cafe    is   generally   the 

very  Reverfe.  And  accordingly  the  De- 
fiance or  Avant  fhou'd  run  much  after  this 
manner:  "  As  for  you  vulgar  Souls,  mere 
"  Naturals^  who  know  no  Art^  were  ne- 
"  ver  admitted  into  the  Temple  of  Wif^ 
"  dom,  nor  ever  vilited  the  Sandluarys  of 
"  Wit  or  Learning,  gather  your-felves  to- 
"  gether  from  all  Parts,  and  hearken  to 
"  the  Song  or  Tale  I  am  about  to  utter. 
"  But  for  you  Men  of  Science  and  Under- 
*'  {landing,  who  have  Ears  and  Judgment, 
"  and  can  weigh  Senfe,  fcan  Syllables,  and 
"  meafure  Sounds ;  You  who  by  a  certain 
"  Art  diftinguifli  falfe  'thought  from  true^ 
"  CorreSinefs  from  Rudenefs^  and  Bombafl 
*'  and  Chaos  from  Order  and  the  Sublime ; 
"  Away  hence  1  or  ftand  aloof  1  whilft 
"  I  prad:ife  upon  the  Eafinefs  of  thofe 
**  mean  Capacitys  and  Apprehenfions,  who 
**  make  the  moft  numerous  Audience, 
.  «  and 


Advice  to  an  Author.  135 

"  and  are  the  only  competent  Judges  of  Se(ft.  2. 
*'  my  Labours/*  .         CX-V>J 

'Tis  ftrange  to  fee  how  differently  the 
Vanity  of  Mankind  runs,  in  different  Times 
and  Seafons.  'Tis  at  prefent  the  Boaft  of 
almoft  every  Enterprizer  in  the  MusEd 
Art,  "  That  by  his  Genius  alone,  and  a 
**  natural  Rapidity  of  Style  and  Thought, 
"  he  is  able  to  carry  all  before  him ;  that 
**  he  plays  with  his  Bufinefs,  does  things 
*'  in  paffing,  at  a  venture,  and  in  the 
"  quickeft  period  of  Time."  In  the  days 
of  A  T  T I  c  K  Elegance^  as  Works  were 
then  truly  of  another  Form  and  Turn,  fo 
Workmen  were  of  another  Humour,  and 
had  their  Vanity  of  a  quite  contrary  kind. 
They  became  rather  affedted  in  endeavour- 
ing to  difcover  the  pains  they  had  taken  to 
be  corre«£t.  They  were  glad  to  infmuatc 
how  laborioufly,  and  with  what  expence 
of  Time,  they  had  brought  the  fmallell 
Work  of  theirs  (as  perhaps  a  finglc  O^^ 
or  Safir,  an  Oration  or  Panegynck)  to 
its  perfection.  When  they  had  fo  polifli'd 
their  Piece,  and  render'd  it  fo  natural  and 
eafy,  that  it  J'ecmd  only  a  lucky  Flight, 
a  Hit  of  Thought,  or  flowing  Vein  of  Hu- 
mour ;  they  were  then  chiefly  concerned 
lefl:  it  fliou'd  in  reality  pafs  for  fuch,  and 
their  Artifice  remain  undifcover'd.  They 
were  willing  it  fhou'd  be  known  how  fe- 
rious  their  Play  was ;   and  hov/  elaborate 

their 


2  34  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2. their   Freedom    and    Facility :   that    they 
v^'V'^  might  fay  as  the  agreeable  and  polite  Poet, 
glancing  on  himfelf, 

*  Ludentis  fpeciem  dabif  G?  torquebitur-^—^ 

And, 


•f-  Ut  fihi  quivis 


Speret    idem^    fudet    multum,   frujiraqufi 

laboret 
Aufm  idetJiy    tantum   feries  junSiuraque 

pollet. 

Such  Accuracy  of  Workmanfhip  re- 
quires a  Critick's  Eye.  'Tis  loft  upon 
a  vulgar  Judgment.  Nothing  grieves  a  real 
Artifi  more  than  that  indifference  of  the 
Publick,  which  fuffers  Work  to  pafs  uncri- 
ticizd.  Nothing,  on  the  other  fide,  re- 
joices him  more  than  the  nice  View^  and 
Infpedion  of  the  accurate  Examiner  and 
Judg  of  Work.  'Tis  the  mean  Genius^  the 
llovenly  Performer,  who  knowing  nothing 
of  true  Workmanjhip,  endeavours  by  the 
beft  outward  Glofs  and  dazling  Shew,  to 
turn  the  Eye  from  a  diredl  and  fteddy  Sur- 
vey of  his  Piece. 

What  is  there  which  an  expert  M^- 

Jician  more  earneftly  defires,  than  to  per-^ 

form  his  part  in  the  prefence  of  thofe  who 

are  knowing  in  his  Art  ?    'Tis  to  the  Ear 

*  Hor.  Epiji.  2.  liL  2.  f  Id.  de  Aite  Poet. 

alone 


Advice  to  an  Author.  235 

alone  he  applies  himfelf ;  the  critical,  theSedt.  2. 
nice  Ear.  Let  his  Hearers  be  of  what  ^^^v^^ 
CharaSfer  they  pleafe :  Be  they  naturally 
auftere,  morofe,  or  rigid;  no  matter,  fo 
they  are  Criticks,  able  to  cenfure,  remark, 
and  found  every  Accord  and  Symphony. 
What  is  there  mortifies  the  good  Painter 
more,  than  when  amidft  his  admiring  Spec- 
tators there  is  not  one  prefent,  who  has 
been  us'd  to  compare  the  Hands  of  different 
Mafters,  or  has  afi  Eye  to  diftinguifh  the 
Advantages  or  Defeds  of  every  Style  ? 
Thro'  all  the  inferior  Orders  of  Mecha- 
nicks,  the  Rule  is  found  to  hold  the  fame. 
In  every  Science,  every  Art,  the  real 
Majiers,  or  Proficients,  rejoice  in  nothing 
more,  than  in  the  thorow  Search  and  Exa- 
mination of  their  Performances,  by  all  the 
Rules  of  Art  and  niceft  Criticifm.  Why 
therefore  (in  the  Muses  name!)  is  it  not 
the  fame  with  our  Pretenders  to  the  Wri- 
ting Art,  our  Poets,  and  Profe^Authors 
in  every  kind  ?  Why  in  this  Profeffion 
are  we  found  fuch  Critick-Haters,  and  in- 
dulg'd  in  this  unlearned  Averfion ;  unlefs 
it  be  taken  for  granted,  that  as  Wit  and 
Learning  {land  at  prefent  in  our  Nation, 
we  are  ftill  upon  the  foot  of  Empiricks 
and  Mountebanks  ? 

From  thefe  Confiderations,  I  take  up- 
on me  abfolutely  to  condemn  the  fafhiona- 
ble  and  prevailing   Cuflom  of  inveighing 

againfl 


t^6 


Advice  to  an  Authoir. 


Part  2.agalnft  Cri ticks,  as  the  common Eme- 
i/V^mys,  the  Pefts,  aiwi  Inceadiarys  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Wit  and  Letters.  I 
aflert,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  are  the 
props  and  Pillars  of  this  Building  j  and 
that  without  the  Encouragement  and  Pro^ 
■pagation  of  fuch  a  Race,  we  ihou'd  remain 
as  O  o  T  H I  c  K  Arcbite^s  as  ever. 


*^IN  THE  weaker  and  more  imper^ 

fe(5t  Societys  of  Mankind,   fucb  as  :thofe     I 

^compos'd  of  federate  Tribes,  or  mix'd  Cf- 

Avfyjy,  fcarce  fettled  in  their  new  Seats,  h 

fjitght  pafs  for  fijfiicient  Cood-fortune,  if     j 

the  People  prov'd  only  fo  far  Mafters  of 

Language,  as  to  be  able  to  underflaod  or^e 

another,    in  order  to  confer  about   thek 

Wants,  and  provide  for  their  common  Ne- 

ceffitys.     Their  expos'd  and  indigent  Static 

xrou'd  not  be  prefijm'd  to  afford  'cm  eithei" 

that  full  Leifure,  or  eafy  Difpofitioa  which 

was  requifiiie  to  raife  em  to  any  Curiofity 

jof  Speculation.     Thsy  who  were  neither 

fafe  from  Violence,  nor  fecure  oi  Plenty, 

were    unlikely    tp  engage   in   unneceflary 

Arts.    Nor  cou'd  it  be  expe^Sfeed  they  ihou'd 

turn  their  Attention  towards  the  Numbers 

of  their   Language,    and  the  harmonious 

Sounds  which   they   accidentally   emitted. 

BiUt  when,  in  procefs  of  time,  the  Affairs 

**  As  to  thjs,  and  what  remains  of  rfic  Sedlion,  fee  VOL. 
Mi-  f.  13^,  &c. 

of 


Advice  to  an  Author.  137 

of  the  Society  were  fettled  on  an  eafy  andSedt.  2. 
fecure  Foundation  ;  when  Debates  and  Z)//1^>^V^*^ 
courfes  on  thefe  Subjeds  of  common  In- 
tereil:,  and  publick  Good,  were  grown  fa- 
miliar} and  the  Speeches  of  prime  Men, 
and  Leaders,  were  conlider'd,  and  com- 
par'd  together  :  there  wou'd  naturally  be 
obferv'd  not  only  a  more  agreeable  Mca- 
fure  of  Sound,  but  a  happier  and  more  eaf]^ 
Rangement  of  Thoughts,  in  one  Speaker, 
than  in  another. 

I T  may  be  eafily  perceiv'd  from  hence, 
that  the  Goddefs  Persuasion  muft  have 
been  in  a  manner  the  Mother  of  Poetry^ 
Rhetorick,  Miifick,  and  the  other  kindred 
Arts.  For  'tis  apparent,  that  where  chief 
Men,  and  Leaders  had  the  ftrongetft  Intereft 
to  perfuade  y  they  us'd  the  higheil  endea- 
vours to  pleafe.  So  that  in  fuch  a  State  or 
Polity  as  has  been  defcrib'd,  not  only  the 
beft  Order  of  Thought,  and  Turn  of  Fancy, 
but  the  moll  foft  and  inviting  Numbers 
muft  have  been  employ 'd,  to  charm  the 
Publick  Ear,  and  to  incline  the  Heart,  by 
the  Agreeablenefs  of  Expreffion. 

Almost  all  the  antient  Maflers  of  this 
fort  were  faid  to  have  been  Musicians. 
And  Tradition^  which  foon  grew  fabulous, 
cou'd  not  better  reprefent  the  firft  Founders 
or  EJiabliJhers  of  thefe  larger  Societys,  than 
as  real  Songjiers,  who  by  the  power  of  their 

Voice 


ij8         Advice  to  an  Authot 

.Part  2. Voice  and  Lyre,  cou'd  charm  the  wildcfl- 
U'^V"^  Beafls,  and  draw  the  rude  Forefls  and  Rocks 
into  the  Form  of  faireft  Citys.  Nor  can  it 
be  doubted  that  the  fame  Artifis^  who  fo  in- 
duftrioufly  apply'd  themfelves  to  fludy  the 
Numbers  of  Speech,  muft  have  made  pro- 
portionable Improvements  in  the  Study  of 
mere  Sounds  and  natural  Harmony  j  which, 
of  it-felf,  muft  have  confiderably  contribu- 
ted towards  the  foftning  the  rude  Manners 
and  harfti  Temper  of  their  new  People. 

If  therefore  it  fo  happen'd  in  thefeyr^^ 
Communitys,  made  by  Confent  and  vo- 
luntary Aflbciation,  that  after  a- while, 
the  Power  of  0;?^,  or  of  a  Few^  grew  pre- 
valent over  the  reft  ;  if  F  o  r  c  e  took 
place,  and  the  Affairs  of  the  Society  were 
adminifter'd  without  their  Concurrence, 
by  the  influence  of  Aive  and  T^eri'or :  it 
follow'd,  that  thefe  pathetick  Sciences  and 
Arts  of  Speech  were  little  cultivated,  fince 
they  were  of  little  ufe.  But  where  Per- 
suasion was  the  chief  means  of  guiding 
the  Society ;  where  the  People  were  to  be 
convinc'd  before  they  adted  j  there  Elocu- 
tion became  confiderable ;  there  Orators 
and  Bards  were  heard  ;  and  the  chief  Ge- 
.  ;iius's  and  Sages  of  the  Nation  betook 
themfelves  to  the  Study  of  thofe  Arts,  by 
which  the  People  were  render'd  more 
treatable  in  a  way  of  Reafon  and  Under- 
ftanding,  and  more  fubjed  to  be  led  by 
..q;  Mea 


Advice  to  an  Author.  239 

Men  of  Science  and  Erudition.  The  more  Sed:.  2. 
thefe  Artifts  courted  the  Publick,  the  more  U-^VN; 
they  inflru<5led  it.  In  fuch  Conjlkiitions  as 
thefe,  'twas  the  Intereft  of  the  Wife  and 
Able,  that  the  Community  fliou'd  be  Judges 
of  Ability  and  Wifdom.  The  high  Efteem 
of  Ingenuity  was  what  advanc'd  the  Inge- 
nious to  the  greateft  Honours.  And  they 
who  rofe  by  Science,  and  Politenefs  in  the 
higher  Arts,  cou'd  not  fail  to  promote  that 
T^ajie  and  Reltjlo  to  which  they  ow'd  their 
perfonal  Diftindion  and  Pre-eminence. 

H  E  N  c  E  it  is  that  thofe  Arts  have  been 
deliver'd  to  us  in  fjch  perfedlion,  by  free 
Nations ;  who  from  the  Nature  of  their  Go- 
vernment, as  from  a  proper  Soil,  produc'd 
the  generous  Plants :  whilfh  the  mightiefl 
Bodys  and  vafteft  Empires,  govern'd  by 
Force^  and  a  dejpotick  Power ^  cou'd,  after 
Ages  of  Peace  and  Leifure,  produce  no 
other  than  what  was  deform'd  and  barba- 
rous of  the  kind. 

When  the  perfuafive  Arts  were  grown 
thus  into  repute,  and  the  Power  of  mov- 
ing the  Affedions  become  the  Study  and 
Emulation  of  the  forward  JVits  and  afpi- 
ring  Genius's  of  the  Times  ;  it  wou'd  ne- 
ceflarily  happen  that  many  Genius's  of 
equal  fize  and  flrength,  tho  lefs  covetous 
ot  publick  Applaufe,  of  Power,  or  of  In- 
fluence over  Mankind,  wou'd  content  them- 

Vol.  I.  Q^  felves 


240  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.felves  with  the  Contemplation  merely  of 
^^^^^n^  thefe  enchanting  Arts.  Thefe  they  wou'd 
the  better  enjoy,  the  more  they  refin'd 
their  T^ajie^  and  cultivated  their  Rar.  For 
'  to  all  Mufick  there  muft  be  an  Ear  pro- 
portionable. There  muft  be  an  Art  of 
liearing  found,  ere  the  performing  Arts 
can  have  their  due  eifedl,  or  any  thing 
exquifite  in  the  kind  be  felt  or  compre- 
hended. The  juft  Performers  therefore 
in  each  Art  wou'd  naturally  be  the  moft 
^  defirous  of  improving  and  refining  the 
publick  Ear ;  which  they  cou'd  no  way  fo 
well  effect  as  by  the  help  of  thofe  latter 
Ge?2ius'sy  who  were  in  a  manner  their  In- 
terpreters  to  the  People ;  and  who  by  their 
l^xample  taught  the  Publick  to  difcover 
what  was  juft  and  excellent  in  each  Per- 
formance. 

Hence  was  the  Origin  ofCRixiCKS; 
who,  as  Arts  and  Sciences  advanc'd,  wou'd 
neceflarily  come  withal  into  repute  j  and 
being  heard  with  fatisfad:ion  in  their  turn, 
were  at  length  tempted  -to  become  Authors, 
and  appear  in  publick.  Thefe  were  ho- 
nour'd  with  the  Name  of  Sophijls :  A 
Character  which  in  early  times  was  highly 
refped:ed.  Nor  did  the  graveft  Philojh- 
phers,  who  were  Cenfors  of  Manners,  and 
Criticks  of  a  higher  degree,  difdain 
to  exert  their  Criticifm  in  the  inferior 
Arts  3  efpecially  in  thofe  relating  to  Speech, 

and 


Advice  to  an  Author.  241' 

and  the  power  of  Argument  and  Perfua-S)tQ:.  2, 
Jion.  l/W 

When  fuch  a  Race  as  this  was  once 
rifen,  'twas  no  longer  poffible  to  impofe  on 
Mankind,  by  what  was  fpecioiis  and  pre- 
tending. The  Publick  wou'd  be  paid  in  no 
falfe  Wit,  or  jingling  Eloquence.  Where 
the  learned  Cri ticks  were  fo  well  re- 
ceiv'd,  and  Philojbphers  themfelves  dif- 
dain'd  not  to  be  of  the  number  ;  there 
cou'd  not  fail  to  arife  Criticks  of  an  infe- 
rior Order,  who  wou'd  fubdivide  the  feve- 
ral  Provinces  of  this  Empire.  Etymoiogijisy 
Philologijis,  Grammarians^  Rhetoricians^  and 
others  of  confiderable  note,  and  eminent 
in  their  degree,  wou'd  every  where  ap- 
pear, and  vindicate  the  Truth  and  Juftice 
of  their  Art,  by  revealing  the  hidden  Beau- 
tys  which  lay  in  the  Works  of  jufl  Per^ 
formers 'y  and  by  expofing  the  weak  Sides, 
falfe  Ornaments,  and  affe(3:ed  Graces  of 
mere  Pretenders.  Nothing  of  what  we 
call  Sophijlry  in  Argument,  or  Bombaji  in 
Style  J  nothing  of  the  effeminate  Kind,  or 
of  the  falfe  Tender,  the  pointed  JVitticifm, 
the  disjointed  Thought ,  the  crouded  Si- 
miky  or  the  mix'd  Metaphor,  cou'd  pafs 
even  on  the  common  Ear  :  whilll  the  N  o- 
TARYs,  the  Expositors,  andPROMP^ 
TERS  above-mention'd,  were  every  where 
at  hand,  and  ready  to  explode  the  unnatu- 
ral Manner, 

Q_2  'Tis 


24^  Advice  to  an  Author, 

Part  2. 

iy^Y^  *T  I  s  eafy  to  imagine,  that  amidft  the 
feveral  Styles  and  Manners  of  Difcourfe  or 
Writing,  the  eafieft  attain'd,  and  earliefl 
pradis'd,  was  the  Miraculcus^  the  Pompous, 
or  what  we  generally  call  the  Sublime. 
Afionifiment  is  of  all  other  Paffions  the 
eafieft  rais'd  in  raw  and  unexperienc'd 
Mankind.  Children  in  their  earlieft  In- 
fancy are  entertain'd  in  this  manner :  And 
the  known  way  of  pleafing  fuch  as  thefe, 
is  to  make  'em  wonder,  and  lead  the  way 
for  'em  in  this  Paflion,  by  a  feign'd  fur- 
prize  at  the  miraculous  Objedls  we  fet 
before  'em.  The  beft  Mufick  of  Barba- 
rians is  hideous  and  aftonifliing  Sounds. 
And  the  fine  Sights  of  Indiajis  are  enor- 
mous Figures,  various  odd  and  glaring 
Colours,  and  whatever  of  that  fort  is  a- 
inazingly  beheld,  with  a  kind  of  Horror 
and  Confternation. 

In  Poetry,  and  ftudy'd  Profe,  the  ajio- 
niJJding  Part,  or  what  commonly  pafiTes  for 
Sublime,  is  form'd  by  the  variety  of  Fi- 
gures,   the   multiplicity  of   *  Metaphors, 

and 


•7IVLV  70    7PSt,£^  7B  XJUeiOV-      'AAA.'    rt,V  71(  O^f/A  A7iai/]<t  7tt^  TKlAVTVL 

'73-oim^,  »  etivi^fxa.  i^Ait  «  ^A^CAtto'/Mi-    ^Av  p:'  %v  Ik  (xiia.- 
tpos^y,  ahifi<a'  kciv  JV  «&  yKff/i^yj  >^  fiAsCaei^/Mi.    Arift. 

de 


Advice  to  an  Author.  24 j 

and  by  quitting  as  much  as  poffible  the  na-  Sed:.  2* 
rural  and  eafy  way  of  ExprefTion,  for  that  '^^V"^ 
which  is  moft  unHke  to  Humanity,  or 
ordinary  Ufe.  This  the  Prince  of  Cri- 
ticks  allures  us  to  have  been  the  Manner 
of  the  earlieft  Poets,  before  the  Age  of 
Homer  ;  or  till  fuch  time  as  this  Father- 
Poet  came  into  Repute,  who  depos'd  that 
fpurious  Race,  and  gave  rife  to  a  legiti- 
mate and  genuine  Kind.  He  retain'd  only 
what  was  decent  of  the  figurative  or  meta- 
phorick  Style,  introduc'd  the  natural  and 
fimple ;  and  turn'd  his  thoughts  towards 
the  real  Beauty  of  Compoiition,  the  Unity 
of  Delign,  the  Truth  of  Characters,  and 
the  juil  Imitation  of  Nature  in  each  par- 
ticular. 


de  Poet.  cap.  22.  This  the  fame  JMafter-Critick  explains  fur- 
ther in  his  Rhetoricksy  Lib.  3 .  cap.  i .  where  he  refers  to  thefe 
Paflages  of  his  Poeticks.     'E'^r^  Ji  0/  Ilo/MTa/  Kk^vja  ivn^ti, 

98TO  •mtr^TiKri  'TsrgccTn  iyivijo  hiB,n.  *  *  *  *  x;^  \uv  lij  hi 
furoKSoi  ^  dnai-hvTWVi  rii  Tci^Tui  otovJAi  J)et?^iy<i(d-a,i  kcLk- 
XtgoL'    TiiTV  J*'  ix,  l^f.     *  *   *    i^  j3  ol   mi   r^^yaJ'ia.i 

T  Tll^Sfl^iT^eOV  Hi  70  \aiiCiHOV  (MTiCnoKV.,  SlA  TO  TM  hoyo) 
nro  iT^  (/.'iT^WV  0(Ml'0TOLJ0V  trtVCLl  'T^  O-XKUV'  « TW  i{g.i  ■? 
CVOfMTWV    <ip>1l(^(77V,     OCm    ©^     toV    SldhlKl'oV     i^V.       *    *    * 

ly  iv  vvv  01  TO  i^auil^y.  iifotHvjii  dpriK^cn.  Aio  ytKolov 
fju^^ai  riTui,  01  Avjot  ix.  £77  p(^f6>t'']«t/  iKeiyro  tm  TfoTa. 
Tiiat  among  tlie  early  Reformers  of  this  Bo?nlniJiick  iManner, 
he  places  Homer  as  the  Chief,  we  may  fee  eafily  in  his 
Poeticks :  as  particularly  in  that  Paffage,  cap.  24.  "£77  7a< 
J^cLvoiAt  ^9  Jiiv  ^i^iif  iyevj  xg.Kui,  oii  amtcny  "O^HfO"  ja- 
X?^l<^')  ^  'sr§uT@-  y^i  i/j,va(.  *  *  *  n^/f  j^  rnnii 
M5«  K^i  (fiAVoicL  rsrJ,v\ai  vm^CiChifAA> 


Q^  3  The 


244  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2. 

^-nr^  The  Manner  of  this  Father-Poet  was 
afterwards  varioufly  imitated,  and  divi- 
ded into  feveral  Shares  ;  efpecially  when 
it  came  to  be  copy'd  in  Drama  tick.  Tra- 
gedy came  fir  ft  ;  and  took  what  was 
moft  folemn  and  fublime.  In  this  part  the 
Poets  fucceeded  fooner  than  in  Comedy 
or  the  facetious  Kind ;  as  was  natural  in* 
deed  to  fuppofe,  lince  this  was  in  reality 
the  eafieft  Manner  of  the  two^  and  capable 
of  being  brought  the  fooneft  to  perfedlion. 
For  fo  the  fame  Prince  of  Criticks  *  fuffi- 
ciently  informs  us.  And  'tis  highly  worth 
remarking,  what  this  mighty  Genius  and 
Judg  of  Art  declares  concerning  Tra- 
gedy; that  whatever  Idea  might  be 
form'd  of  the  utmoft  Perfediion  of  this 
kind  of  Poem,  it  cou'd  in  pradtice  rife  no 
higher  tl^an  it  had  been  already  carry'd  in 
his  time ;  -f-  "  Having  at  length  (fays  he) 
"  attain'd  its  Ends,    and  being  apparently 

"  con- 

K«f/^</^z'ct>  &c.  De  Poet.  cap.  4.  W^hen  he  has  compar'd 
botii  this  and  Tragedy  together,  he  recapitulates  in  his  next 
Chapter,  'A/  f/gc  hv  r»i  T^.ytoSlleti  y.'ilaJSdiffeiU   yjtl  J^i  aV 

^A^yov  iJtivuiVi  Sec.  Cap.  5.  See  VOL.  III.  p.  139.  in  the 
Notes. 

f  Kc^t  cFOXAaf  [xilACohati  ^{jetCcthHim  jj  T^cffy^ifi'ti  \-m.v- 
ettTo,  STeJ  l^g  77)V  icwnii  (pvtnu.  Cap.  4.  So  true  a  Prophet 
as  well  as  Critkk  was  this  great  Man.  For  by  the  Event  it 
appear'dthat  Tragedy  being  rais'd  to  its  height  by  Sopho- 
cles   and    Euripides,    and  .no   room  left  for   further 

Excellence 


Advice  to  an  Author.  145 

"  confummate   in  it-felf :"     But  for  Co-Sed:.  2. 
MEDY,  it  feems,  'twas  ftlll  in  hand.     Itt/V^ 
had  been  already  in  fome  manner  reduc'd : 
but,  as  he  plainly  infinuates,  it  lay  yet  un- 
finifh'd ;    notwithftanding   the   witty    La- 
bours of  an  Aristophanes,    and  the 
other   comick  Poets  of  the   firft  Manner, 
who  had  flourifh'd  a  whole  Age  before  this 
Critick.     As  perfed  as  were  thofe  Wits  in 
Style  and  Language ;  and  as  fertile  in  all 
the  Vai  ietys  and  Turns   of  Humour  3  yet 
the  Truth  of  Charad:ers,    the   Beauty   of 
Order,    and  the   (imple  Imitation   of  Na- 
ture, were  in  a  manner  wholly  unknown  to 
'cm  J   or  thro'  Petulancy,    or  Debauch   of 

Excellence  or  Emulation  j  there  were  no  more  tragick  Poets 
befides  thefe  endur'd,  after  the  Author's  time.  Whilft  Co7ne- 
dy  went  on,  improving  flill  to  the  iecond  and  third  degree  ; 
tragedy  finifh'd  its  courfe  under  Euripides  :  whom,  tho 
our  great  Author  criticizes  with  the  utmoll  Severity  in  his 
Poeticks,  yet  he  plainly  enough  confefTes  to  have  carry'd  the 
Style  of  Tragedy  to  its  full  Height  and  Dignity.  For  as  to 
the  Reformation  which  that  Poet  made  in  the  ufe  o^  the  J'uh- 
Ibne  2.rA  Jignrati've  Speech,  in  general ;  fee  what  our  difcern- 
ing  Author  fays  in  his  Rhetoricks :  where  he  llrivcs  to  fhevv 
the  Impertinence  and  Naufeoufncfs  of  the  florid  Speakers, 
and  fuch  as  underftood  not  the  Uie  of  the  fimple  and  natural 
Manner.  "  The  juit  Mailers  and  right  Managers  of  the 
**  Poetick  or  High  Style,  fhou'd  learn  {fays  he)  how  to  con- 
**  ccal  the  Manner  as  much  as  pofTible."     A/o  S'ei  KAv^dveiV 

Muoyln  SictC'thXov\a.t,  y^^Tn^  is^i  T»f  c'jf «f  tk?  (/s/x/^/f/es-af . 
Ka/  o\tiV  \\  ©socAwf  B  %u\<y\  'TVi'fCOV^  ^^i  liw  r  a,KKuv  vsro^st- 
"Twf,  n  yiv  y6  ry  hiyoyjQ-  'ioiyjiv  hpui,  h  cT'  dhhortit-t  KhiT- 
*]«'}*/  <F  iv,  kctv  Ti{  I'K.  -ni  liaBt^oi  J)a.hiKl\i  ovXiyiV  <rjvjSn' 
om^  'E  T  P I  n  I'A  H  S  taotei,  v^i  vr'iJ'ei^i  'nr^uTQ:  -Rhet. 
Lib.  3.  cap.  2. 

0^4  Humour, 


2i\6 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


Part  2.  Humour,  were,  it  feems,  neglected  and  {et 

U'^VNJ  alide.      A   Menander   had  not  as  yet 

appear'd ;  who  arofe  foon  after,  to  accom- 

pliih  the  Prophecy  of  our  grand  Mafler  of 

Art,  and  confummate  Philologift. 

Comedy  *  had  at  this  time  done  little 
more  than  what  the  antient  -f-  Parodys  had 
done  before  it.  'Twas  of  admirable  uie 
to  explode  the  falfe  Sublime  of  early  Poets, 
and  fuch  as  in  its  own  Age  were  on  every 
occafion  ready  to  relapfe  into  that  vicious 
Manner.  The  good  Tragedians  themfelves 
cou'd  hardly  efcape  its  Lafhes.  The  pom- 
pous Orators  were  its  never-failing  Sub- 
jeds.  Every  thing  which  might  be  im- 
pofing,  by  a  falfe  Gravity  or  Solemnity, 
was  forc'd  to  endure  the  Trial  of  this 
Touchflone.  Manners  and  Charaders,  as 
well  as  Speech   and  Writings,    were  dif^ 

*  Clct7H2  <^  yj>i  tk  ffTaJhua.  (julxii^  ts-otriTiif  "O ((*«(>©-  rv 
(jiov©-    ^    K^  on    fiu.     tfAA*  077    y^i    (X4uti<reif  J^^fMi]ly^( 

tflet^iv.  Arift.  Poet.  cap.  4.  No  wonacr  it,  in  this  Deicent, 
Comedy  came  late.  See  below,  p.  ^53.  ii^  the  Notes.  And 
above,  p.  198. 

f  The  PARODYS  were  very  antient :  but  they  were  in 
realirv  no  other  than  mere  Burlefque  or  Farce.  COMEDY, 
which  borrowed  fomething  from  thofe  Humours,  as  well  as 
from  the  Phalllca  below-mention'd,  was  not,  however,  rais'd 
to  any  Form  or  Shape  of  Art  (as  faid  above)  till  about  the 
time  of  Aristofhanes,  who  was  of  the ^;^  model,  and 
a  Beginner  of  the  kind  ;  at  the  fame  time  that  TRAGEDY 
had  undergone  all  its  Changes,  and  was  already  come  to  its 
laft  perfeftion  ;  as  the  grand  Critick  has  iliewn  us,  and  as 
pur  other  Authoritys  plainly  evince. 

.  xj  r,  cufs'd 


',       Advic:e  to  an  Author.  247 

cufs'd  with  the  greateft  freedom.     Nothing  Sedt.  2. 
cou'd  be  better  fitted  than  this  Genius  of  ^^^V>-^ 
Wit,  to  unmafk  the  face  of  things,  and  re- 
move thofe  Larvi^  naturally  form'd  from 
the  Tragick  Manner,  and  pompous  Style, 
which  had  preceded ; 

*  Et    dociiit    magnumque    loqui^    nitique- 
Cothurno, 
SuccEssiT  vetus  his  Comcedia^' — 

'T  w  A  s  not  by  chance  that  this  Succef- 
Jion  happen'd  in  Greece,  after  the  man- 
ner defcrib'd ;  but  rather  thro'  Neceflity, 
and  from  the  Reafon  and  -f-  Nature  of 
Things.  For  in  healthy  Bodys,  Nature 
dictates  Remedys   of  her   own,    and  pro- 

*  Hor.  de  Arte  Poet.  The  immediate  preceding  Verfesof 
Horace,  after  his  having  fpoken  of  the  firft  Tragedy  un- 
der Thespis,  are; 

Poft  hunc  -perfona:  fallaque  repertor  honejlce 
JEfchylus,  &  modicis  i7jjira<vit  pulpita  tignis, 
Et  docuit,  ^c. 

Before  the  time  of  Thespis,  Tragedy  indeed  was  faid  to 
be,  as  Horace  calls  it  here  (in  a  concife  way)  igmtum 
genus.  It  lay  in  a  kind  of  Chaos  intermix'd  with  other 
Kinds,  and  hardly  diftinguiftiable  by  its  Gravity  and  Pomp 
from  the  Humours  which  gave  rife  afterwards  to  Comedy. 
But  in  a  Itrid  hiftorical  Senfe,  as  we  find  Plato  fpeaking 
in  his  Minos,  Tragedy  was  of  antienter  date,  and  even  of 
the  very  antienteil  with  the  Athenians.  His  words  are,  *H 
^  'Xfj-y(^^<*'  «SJ  'aaJKniov  gf^'cTg,  »%,  ai  oiovlau,  atid  0'i(T- 
m<^©-  <t^^et(JLV/n,  K<^'  ctTiD  igvvi')(ii.     'AAA*  6/  ^hei(  iVifoncnif 

t  Of  this  Subje^  fee  more  in  VOL.  Ill,  pag.  136,  7, 
8,  &c. 

vides 


Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  V ides  for  the  Cure  of  what  has  happened 
^^'V^^'  amifs  in  the  Growth  and  Progrefs  of  a 
Conftitution.  The  Affairs  of  this  free 
People  being  in  the  Increafe;  and  their 
Ability  and  Judgment  every  day  improving, 
as  Letters  and  Arts  advanc'd  j  they  wou'd 
of  courfe  find  in  themfelves  a  Strength  of 
Nature,  which  by  the  help  of  good  Fer- 
ments, and  a  wholefom  oppofition  of  Hu- 
inours,  wou'd  correct  in  one  way  whatever 
was  exceffive,  or  peccant  (as  Phyficians  fay) 
in  another.  Thus  the  florid  and  over-fan- 
guine  Humour  of  the  high  Style  was  allay'd 
by  fomething  of  a  contrary  nature.  The 
Comtek  Gtmus  was  apply'd,  as  a  kind  of 
Caiijlick^  to  thofe  Exuberances  and  Fun- 
gus's  of  the  fwoln  Dialect,  and  magnificent 
manner  of  Speech.  But  after  a-while,  even 
this  Remedy  it-felf  was  found  to  turn  into 
a  Difeafe :  as  Medicines,  we  know,  grow 
corrofive,  when  the  fouler  Matters  on 
which  they  wrought  are  fufiiciently  purg'd, 
and  the  Obftrudlions  remov'd. 

•    *  In  vitlum  Libert  as  excidit,  tSVint 

qaio'i  Jjigiiam  Lege  regt. -f* 

'T I  s  "a  great  Error  to  fuppofe,  as  fome 
have  done,  that  the  reftraining  this  licen- 

'  *  Hor.  de  Arte  Poet. 

•f-  It  follows — < -Lex  efi  accepta,  Chorufgue 

^urpiter  obtlcuit,  fublato  jure  nocendi, 

'  tious 


Advice  to  an  Author.  249 

tious  manner  of  Wit,  iy  Laii\  was  a  Vio-  Se<3:.  2. 
lation  of  the  Liberty  of  the  Athenian  ^*^y^w> 
State,  or  an  Effed  merely  of  the  Power  of 
Foreigners  ;  whom  it  Httle  concern'd  after 
what  manner  thofe  Citizens  treated  one 
another  in  their  Comedys  j  or  what  fort 
of  Wit  or  Humour  they  made  choice  of, 
for  their  ordinary  Diverfions.  If  upon  a 
Change  of  Government,  as  during  the 
Ufurpation  of  the  Ihirty^  or  when  that 
Nation  was  humbled  at  any  time,  either 
by  a  Philip,  an  Alexander,  or  an 
Antipater,  they  had  been  forc'd  a- 
gainft  their  Wills^  to  enaft  fuch  Laws  as 
thefe ;  'tis  certain  they  wou'd  have  foon 
repeal'd  'em,  when  thofe  Terrors  were  re- 
mov'd,  as  they  foon  were,  and  the  People 
reftor'd  to  their  former  Libertys.  For  not- 
withftanding  what  this  Nation  fuffer'd  oiit- 
wardlyy  by  feveral  fhocks  receiv'd  from 
foreign  States ;  notwithftanding  the  Do- 
minion and  Power  they  loft  abroad^  they 
preferv'd  the  fame  Government  at  home. 
And  how  paffionately  interefled  they  were 
in  what  concern'd  their  Diverfions  and 
publick  Spectacles  ;  how  jealous  and  full 
of  Emulation  in  what  related  to  their 
Poetry^  Wit,  Mujjck,  and  other  Arts,  in 
which  they  excel'd  all  other  Nations  5  is 
well  known  to  Perfons  who  have  any  com- 
prehenfion  of  antient  Manners,  or  been 
the  leail  converfant  in  Hiilory. 

Nothing 


250  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  .    a..v?  V-"^ 

^^^^V*^-^  Nothing  therefore  cou'd  have  been 
the  Caufe  of  thefe  publick  Decrees,  and 
of  this  gradual  Reform  in  the  Common- 
wealth of  Wit,  befide  the  real  Reform  of 
Tafte  and  Humour  in  the  Commonwealth 
or  Government  it-felf.  Inftead  of  any 
Abridgment,  'twas  in  reality  an  Increafe 
of  Liberty,  an  Enlargement  of  the  Security 
of  Property,  and  an  Advancement  of  pri- 
'  vate  Eafe  and  perfonal  Safety,  to  provide 
againft  what  was  injurious  to  the  good 
Name  and  Reputation  of  every  Citizen. 
As  this  Intelligence  in  Life  and  Manners 
grew  greater  in  that  experienc'd  People, 
Jo  the  Relifli  of  Wit  and  Humour  wou'd 
naturally  in  proportion  be  more  refin'd. 
Thus  Greece  in  general  grew  more 
and  more  polite  ;  and  as  it  advanc'd  in  this 
refped:,  was  more  averfe  to  the  obfcene 
buffooning  manner.  The  Athenians 
flill  vvent  before  the  reft,  and  led  the  way 
in  Elegance  of  every  kind.  For  even  their 
firft  Comedy  was  a  Refinement  upon  fome 
irregular  Attempts  which  had  been  made 
in  that  dramatick  way.  And  the  grand 
*  Critick  (hews  us,  that  in  his  own  time 
the  P  H  A  L  L  I  c  A,  or  f cur r thus  and  objcene 
Farce,  prevail'd  ftill,  and  had  the  Counte- 

*  Lib.  de  Poet.  cap.  4.  4e  Tragoedia  &  Comcedia,  fclli- 
<T^  rat.  ^ebWti(g^,  AiT7)y  vuv  c*  ifoKXaCif  7^  •jyi^.swK  (fidLfxivit 


OvlIHT-',! 


^  nance 


Advice  to  an  Authot.  iji 

iiance  of  the  Magiftrate,  in  fome  Citys  ofSedt.  2, 
Greece,  who  were  behind  the  reft  in  ^^VN^ 
this  Reform  of  Tafte  and  Manners. 

But  what  is  yet  a  more  undeniable 
Evidence  of  this  natural  and  gradual  Re- 
finement of  Styles  and  Manners  among  the 
Antients,  particularly  in  what  concern'd 
their  Stage,  is,  that  this  very  Cafe  of  Pro- 
hibition and  Reftraint  happened  among  the 
Romans  themfelves  j  where  no  EfFedls 
of  foreign  Power,  or  of  a  home  Tyranny 
can  be  pretended.  Their  Fescennin, 
and  A  T  E  L  L  A  N  way  of  Wit,  was  in  ear- 
ly days  prohibited,  and  Laws  made  againft 
it,  Jor  the  Publick's  fake^  and  in  regard  to 
the  Welfare  of  the  Community  :  fuch  Li- 
centioufnefs  having  been  found  in  reali- 
ty contrary  to  the  juft  Liberty  of  the 
People. 

* Doluere  cruento 

Dente  lacejjiti :  fuit  intaBis  qtioque  Cura 

CONDITI  ONE  T^/^r  COMMUNI.       ^iu 

etiam  Lex 
Pcenaque   lata    malo    qua   nollet   Carmine 

quemquam 
.  Dejcribi. 

In  defenfe  of  what  I  have  here  ad- 
vanc'd,    I  cou'd,   befides  the  Authority  of 

*  Hor.  EpiJ},  I .  tik  2. 
'■  2  grave 


2ji  Advice  ^0  an  Author, 

Part  2.grave  *  Hiflorians  and  Chronologlfts,  pro- 
i/W  duce  the  Teftimony  of  one  of  the  wifeft, 
and  mofh  ferious  of  antient  Authors ; 
whofe  fingle  Authority  wou'd  be  acknow- 
ledg'd  to  have  equal  force  with  that  of 
many  concurring  Writers.  He  fhews  us 
that  this  -f-  frjl-form' d  Comedy  and  Scheme 
of  ludicrous  Wit,  was  introduc'd  upon  the 
neck  of  /^^  S u  B  L  I  me.  The  famiHar  airy 
Mufe  was  privileg'd  as  a  fort  of  Counter- 
pedagogue^  againil  the  Pomp  and  Forma- 
lity of  the  more  folemn  Writers.  And 
what   is  highly    remarkable,    our  Author 

*  To  confirm  what  is  faid  of  this  natural  Succejpon  of  Wit 
and  Style,  according  to  the  fevcral  Authoritys  above-cited  in 
the  immediate  preceding  Notes  J  tee  St  r  a  bo.  Lib.  i.    'Qf 

fxiavp  K^  tuJ^OAAfJUhnv-  "^Efm  cneiinv  iuyi(syiZVol»  Kvmv]ii  to 
[jLiT^v,  r  alhhA  S^i  <pv\a,^a.t\ii  r^'TfoniJi)'^,  ayv'i^^-\tLv  at 

etV  a.'tsrb  u4«*  77''°f'     Kst9i*77S?  «V  vi  xj  TMJ'  KaixaS'lav  ipAin 

t    rifWTDV  <W  T^yCfi^etl  'JSrAfH^SiJJKi/  V'TgO^Vy\<P)(.Al  ?i/!  9VI/.' 

^itVQvjuv,  }y  on  raura  htw  'Tsritpu/ji  yii/g^/,  iy  OTi  ot(  t^n  <? 
cmvm  '\'V;f^'^(iiyCt^,  rvTva  ju,ii  aX^-^  ^ot  'f  ^^op©*  awn- 
m.  *  *  *  *  MtTA  J^i  Ti]V  T^atyaJ^iAv  »  dp'^iA  K«/«jJ>'(« 
/fffltf/i^Sit,  tsAiJbi'^ayi^v  'srappmAV  i^^^n,  j^  "t  A-n/^iAf  in. 
itK^ngax  S^t'eWTiji  't  ivQvppit^mvm  V'TsroiMfj.vti^XMcra'  is^i  tt'ov 

huyMJ^lcLy  jy  hoiTnv  M  J'4««,  &c.    M«tf.  Ay].  ^iQ-  lA. 


'Oie:  rai  anfiiauA  Ko^Ayvi^h    ron  ycAKi<;A  KcbJAptt^n' 

:       ^  I        -  fliews 


Advice  to  an  Author.  253 

fhews  us,  that  in  Philofophy  it-felf  there  Sedt.  2. 
happen'd,  almofl  at  the  very  fame  time,  a  w^v^^. 
like  SucceJJion  of  Wit  and  Humour ;  when 
in  oppoiition  to  the  fublime  Philofopher, 
and  afterwards  to  his  *  grave  Difciple  and 
Succeflbr  in  the  Academy,  there  arofe  a  Co- 
mtck  Philofophy,  in  the  Perfon  of  another 
Mailer  and  other  Difciples  ;  who  perfonal- 
ly,  as  well  as  in  their  Writings,  were  fet  in 
direct  oppofition  to  the  former  :  not  as  dif- 
fering in  -f-  Opinions  or  Maxims,  but  in 
their  Style  and  Manner;  in  the  Turn  of 
Humour,  and  method  of  Inflrudtion. 


'TIS  PLEASANT  enough  to  confi- 
der  how  exadt  the  refemblance  was  between 
the  Lineage  of  Philofophy  and  that  of  Poe- 
try ;  as  deriv'd  from  their  two  chief  Foun- 
ders or  Patriarchs  3  in  whofe  Loins  the  feve- 
ral  Races  lay  as  it  were  inclos'd.  For  as  the 
X  grand  poetick  Sire  was,  by  the  confenc 
of  all  Antiquity,  allow'd  to  have  furnifh'd, 
Subje6t  both  to  the  Tragick^  the  Comicky 
and  every  other  kind  of  genuine  Poetry  -, 

*  See  the  Citations  immediately  preceding. 

•}■  Tunica  dijiantia Juv.  Sat.  13.  ver.  222. 

X  See  above  fage  246.  in  the  Notes.  According  to  this 
HoMERiCAL  Lineage  of  Poetry,  Comedy  wou'd  naturally 
prove  the  Drama  of  lateft  Birth.  For  tho  Aristotle, 
in  the  fame  place,  cites  Homer's  Margites  as  analogous 
to  Comedy,  yet  the  Iliad  and  Od\JJee,  in  which  the  heroick 
Style  prevails,  having  been  ever  higheft  in  efteem>  were 
likeliefl  to  be  firft  wrought  and  cultivated. 

fo 


254         Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.fo  the  philofophical  Patriarch,   in  the 

v^ry->^  fame  manner,    containing   within   himfelf 

the  feveral  Genius's  of  Philofophy,   gave 

rife  to  all  thofe  feveral  Manners  in  which 

'  that  Science  was  deliver'd. 

His  Difciple  of  noble  Birth  and  lofty 
Genius,  who  afpir'd  to  *  Poetry  and  Rhe- 
trorick,  took  the  Sublime  part,  and  (hone 
above  his  other  Condifciples.  He  of  mean 
Birth,  and  poorell  Circumftances,  whofe 
Conftitution  as  well  as  Condition  inclin'd 
him  moft  to  the  way  we  call  Satiricky  took 
the  reproving  part,  which  in  his  better- 
humour'd  and  more  agreeable  SuccefTor, 
turn'd  into  the  Comick  kind,  and  went  up- 
on the  Model  of  that  -f-  antient  Comedy 
which  was  then  prevalent.  But  another 
noble  Difciple,  whofe  Genius  was  towards 
A6lion,    and  who   prov'd  afterwards    the 

*  His  Dialogues  were  real  POEMS  (as  has  been 
Ihewn  above,  fag.  193,  &c.)  This  may  eafily  be  collefted 
from  the  Poeticks  of  the  grand  Matter.  We  may  add  what 
is  cited  by  Athenveus  from  another  Treatife  of  that  Au- 
thor. *0  T»f  aAA«f  fltToi^  A'Xhuf  KAWhoytaai,  iv  yiiv 
•?9  ^T^oh/jHA  "Oaui^ov  Q/^Qtth.huv,  iy  TW  fjupw]iMiv  ':ffoif\<nv, 
dvrii  J'i  iTlhATzov']  rif  Aia.hoy\i(  fJuiiMpjhai  y^.'^ctf^  av 
Ttif  lAiOf  BcA'  AUTGf  ivfijrii  Iriv-     U^^  y^  avt^  tk9'  iv^i  to 

fT<^®-  V^  h'oyiV  0   l!i\i&-  'AKi^etfJiivQ-,  fOS  N/KlAf  0  NtKSLiVi 

**  'AXg^rtfcefK  tk  This  tv<  nsrpaTiSf  y^et(pkv\a.i  <^  ^aK^etjiKav 
*'  ti\idihoyiiV  i"  "AvriKfui  (pdcKav  0  nyoW^ia^^ctj©-  'Af/ro- 
TfeAwf  v^^  UhetTavQ-  AiA^oyvf  ^(.^^(p'iVAt  r  'Aaj^c^kok* 
Athen.  Lib.  11.  «»■' 

t  Accordipg  to  the  two  laft  Citations,  pag.  252. 

'  greatefl 


Advice  to  an  Author.  255 

greatell  Hero  of  his  time  took  the  gen-^t&..  2. 
teeler  Part,  znd  fofter  Manner.  He  join'd '-^^"^^"'^ 
what  was  deepeft  and  moft  folid  in  Philo- 
fophy,  with  what  was  eaiieft  and  moft  re- 
fin'd  in  Breeding,  and  in  the  Charader  and 
Manner  of  a  Gentleman.  Nothing  cou'd 
be  remoter  than  his  Genius  was,  from  the 
fcholaftick,  the  rhetorical,  or  mere  poetick 
kind.  He  was  as  diftant,  on  one  hand, 
from  the  fonoroiis,  high,  and  pompous 
Strain  ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  from  the 
ludicrous,  mimical,  or  fatirick. 

This*  was  that  natural  and  fimple  Ge- 
nius of  Antiquity,  comprehended  by  fo  few, 
and  fo  little  relifh'd  by  the  Vulgar.  This 
was  that  philofophical  M  e  n  a  n  d  e  r  of 
earlier  Time,  whofe  Works  one  may  won- 
der to  fee  preferv'd  from  the  fame  Fate  j 
fince  in  the  darker  Ages  thro'  which  they 
pafs'd,  they  might  probably  be  alike  neg- 
le(fled,  on  the  account  of  their  like  Sim- 
plicity of  Style  and  Compofition. 

There  is,  befides  the  feveral  Manners 
of  Writing  above  defcrib'd,  another  of 
confiderable  Authority  and  Weight,  which 
had  its  rife  chiefly  from  the  critical  Art  it- 
felf,  and  from  the  more  accurate  Infpec- 
tion  into  the  Works  of  preceding  MaAers. 
The  grand  Critick,    of  whom   we  have 

*  VOL.  III.  /.  248. 
Vol.  I.  R  already 


256  Advice  to  an  Aut;ho^v 

Part  2. already  fpoken,  was  a  Chief  and  Leader  la 
v^jTV^^'this  Order  of  Pen-men.  For  tho  the  So-» 
p  H  I  s  T  s  of  elder  time  had  treated  raa,0y 
SubJ€<Sts  methodically^  and  in  form  ;  yet  thia 
Wiiter  was  the  firft  who  gain'd  J^epLLt© 
in  the  methodick  kind.  As  the  Talent  of 
this  gr^at  Man  was  more  towards  polite 
Learning,  and  the  Arts,  than  towards  tljic> 
deep  and  folid  parts  of  Philofophy,  it  hap- 
pen'd  that  in  his  School  there  was  more 
care  taken  of  other  Sciences,  than  of  E-^ 
thicks^  DialeB^  or  Logicky  which  Provin- 
ces were  chiefly  cultivated  by  the  Succef- 
fors  of  the  Academy  and  Porch. 

It  has  been  obferv'd  of  this  methodick 
or  fcholajiick  Manner,  that  it  naturally  be- 
fitted an  x^uthor,  who,  tho  endow'd  with 
a  comprehenfive  and  flrong  Genius,  was 
not  in  liimfelf  of  a  refin'd  Temper,  blefs'd? 
by  the  Graces,  or  favour'd  by  any  Mufey 
one  who  was  not  of  a  fruitful  Imagination^ 
but  rather  dry  and  rigid  j  yet  withal  acute 
and  piercing,  accurate  and  diftindt.  For 
the  chief  Nerve  and  Sinew  of  this  Style 
confifts  in  the  clear  Divifion  and  Partition 
of  the  Subjeds.  Tho  there  is  nothing  ex- 
alting in  the  Manner,  'tis  naturally  power- 
ful and  commandi?jg  -,  and,  more  than  ai>y, 
other,  fubdues  the  Mind,  and  ftrengthens 
its  Determinations,  '*Tis  from  this  Genius 
that  firm  Conclufions  and  fteddy  Maxims 
are  befl  form'd  :  which,  if  folidly  built,  and 
I  on 


Advice  to  a?i  Author.  257 

on   fure  grourhi,  are  the  {hontd   and  befl:Se(ft.  2. 
Guides    towards  Wifdom   and  Ability,   in  ^"^'YNJ 
every  kind  ;  but   if  defedtive,  or   unfound, 
in   the   leafl  parr,    muft   of  neceffity  lead 
us  to  xhe   groffeft  Abfurditys,    and  ftiffeft 
Pedantry  and  Conceit. 

Now  tho  every  other  Style  and  ge- 
nuine Manner  of  Compoiition  has  its  Or- 
der and  Method,  as  well  as  this  which,  in 
a  peculiar  fenfe,  we  call  the  Methodick ; 
yet  it  is  this  Manner  alone  which  pro- 
fefles  Method,  dil!e(fts  it-felf  in  Parts,  and 
makes  its  own  Anatomy.  The  Sublime 
can  no  way  condefcend  thus,  or  bear  to 
be  fufpended  in  its  impetuous  Courfe. 
The  Comtek,  or  derifory  Manner,  is  fur- 
ther flill  from  making  fhew  of  Method. 
'Tis  then,  if  ever,  that  it  prefumes  to 
give  it-felf  this  wife  Air,  when  its  Defign 
is  to  expofe  the  Thing  it-felf,  and  ridicule 
the  Formality  and  Sophiftry  fo  often  fhel- 
ter'd  beneath  it.  The  Simple  Manner, 
which  being  the  ftriclefl  Imitation  of  Na- 
ture, fhou'd  of  right  be  the  completed,  in 
the  Diftribution  of  its  Parts,  and  Symme- 
try of  its  Whole,  is  yet  fo  far  from  making 
any  oftentation  of  Method,  that  it  con- 
ceals the  Artifice  as  much  as  pofiible :  • 
endeavouring  only  to  exprefs  the  effedt  of 
Art,  under  the  appearance  of  the  greateft 
Eafe  and  Negligence.  And  even  when 
it  affumes  the  cenfuring  or  reproving  parr, 
R  2  it 


258  Advice  to  an  Author!! 

Part  2.  it  does  it  in  the  moft  conceard  and  gen- 
C/VVi  tie  way. 

The  Authors  indeed  of  our  Age  are 
as  little  capable  of  receiving,  as  of  giving 
Advice,  in  fuch  a  way  as  this :  So  little 
is  the  general  Palat  form'd,  as  yet,  to  a 
Tafte  of  real  Simplicity.  As  for  fbe 
Sublime,  tho  it  be  often  the  Subjecft  of 
Criticifm ;  it  can  never  be  the  Manner, 
or  afford  the  Means.  The  Way  of  Form 
and  Method,  the  didaBive  or  preceptive 
Manner,  as  it  has  been  ufually  pradlis'd 
amongft  us,  and  as  our  Ears  have  been 
-~  long    accuftom'd,    has   fo    little   force   to- 

wards the  winning  our  Attention,  that  it 
is  apter  to  tire  us,  than  the  Metre  of  an 
old  Ballad.  We  no  fooner  hear  the  I'heme 
propounded,  the  Subject  divided  and  fub- 
divided,  (with  Jirjl  of  the  Jirji,  and  fo 
forth,  as  Order  requires)  than  inftantly  we 
begin  a  Strife  with  Nature^  who  other- 
wile  might  furprize  us  in  the  foft  Fetters 
of  Sleep  3  to  the  great  Difgrace  of  the 
Orator,  and  Scandal  of  the  Audience. 
The  only  Manner  left,  in  which  Criticifm 
can  have  its  juft  Force  amongft  us,  is  the 
antient  C  o  m  i  c  k  ;  of  which  kind  were 
the  firft  Rofiian  Mifcellanys,  or  Satirick 
Pieces :  a  fort  of  original  Writing  of  their 
own,  refin'd  afterwards  by  the  beft  Ge- 
nius, and  politeft  Poet  of  that  Nation  ; 
who,  notwithftanding,    owns  the  Manner 

to 


Advice  to  an  Author.  259 

to  have  been  taken  from  the  Greek  Comedy  Sed:.  2. 
above-mention'd.     And  if  our  Home-Wits  t.^'V^ 
wou'd  refine  upon  this  Pattern,  they  might 
perhaps  meet  with  confiderable  Succefs. 

In  effecft,  we  may  obferve,  that  in  our 
own  Nation,  the  moft  fuccefsful  Criticifm^ 
or  Method  of  Refutation,  is  that  which 
borders  moft  on  the  manner  of  the  earlieft 
Greek  Comedy.  The  highly-rated  *  bur- 
lefque  Poem,  written  on  the  Subjedl  of 
our  rehgious  Controverfys  in  the  laft  Age, 
is  a  fufficient  Token  of  this  kind.  And 
that  juftly-admir'd  Piece  of  -f  Comick  Wit, 
given  us  fome  time  after  by  an  Author 
of  the  higheft  Quality,  has  furnifh'd  our 
beft  IVits  in  all  their  Controverfys,  even 
in  Religion  and  Politicks,  as  well  as  in 
the  Affairs  of  Wit  and  Learning,  with 
the  mofl:  effectual  and  entertaining  Me- 
thod of  expofing  Folly,  Pedantry,  falfe 
Reafon,  and  ill  Writing.  And  without 
fome  fuch  tolerated  manner  of  CritictJ'm  as 
this,  how  grofly  we  might  have  been  im- 
pos'd  on,  and  iliou'd  continue  to  be,  for 
the  future,  by  many  Pieces  of  dogmatical 
Rhetorick,  and  pedantick  Wit,  may  ealily 
be  apprehended  by  thofe  who  know  any 
thing  of  the  State  of  Letters  in  our  Na- 

*    HuDIBRAS. 

t  'I'lie   Rehearsal.     See  VOL.  III.   />•  277.  in  the 
Notes,  and  Ibid.  p.  281. 

R  3  tion, 


i6o  Adyice  tD  an  Author. 

Part  2.tian,  or  are  in  the  leaft  fitted  to  judg  of  the 
SiOT*^'  Manner  of  the  common  PoeUj    or  forinal 
Authors  of  the  Times. 

In  what  Form,  or  Manner  foe ver,  Cn- 
ticifm  may  appear  amongft  us,  or  C  R  i- 
TICKS  chufe  to  exert  their  Talent ;  k 
can  become  none  beiides  the  grofly  fuper- 
•  ftitious,  or  ignorant,  to  be  akfm'd  at  this 
Spi?'it.  For  if  it  be  ill  manag'd,  and 
with  little  Wit ;  it  will  be  deftroy'd  by 
fbmething  wittier  in  the  kind :  If  it  be 
witty  it-lelf,  it  muft  of  neceffity  advance 
Wit. 

And  thus  from  the  Confideration  of  an- 
tient  as  well  as  modern  Time,  it  appears 
that  the  Caiife  and  Intereft  of  Criticks 
is  the  fame  with  that  of  Wit,  Learning, 
and  good  Senie. 


SECT.     III. 


HUS  we  have  furvey'd  the  State  of 
Authors^  as  they  are  influenc'd  from 
without ;  either  by  the  Frowns  or  Favour 
of  the  Great ^  or  by  the  Applaufe  or  Cen- 
fure  of  the  Criticks.  It  remains  only  to 
confider,  how  the  People,  or  World,  m 
general,  lland  afFed:ed  towards  our  mo- 
dern Pen-men ;  arid  what  occaiion  thefe 
Adventurers  may  have   of  Complaint,  or 

Boaft, 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i6\ 

Boaft,    from    their    Encounter    with    theSedl,  3. 
Pub  LICK.  O^'^ 

There  is  nothing  more  certain,  than 
that  a  real  Gem'uSy  and  thorow  Artiji^  in 
whatever  kind,  can  never,  without  the 
greateft  unwillingnefs  and  (hame,  be  in- 
duc'd  to  adt  below  his  Charadter,  and  for 
mere  Intereft  be  prevaii'd  with  to  profti- 
tute  his  Art  or  Science^  by  performing  con- 
trary to  its  known  Rules.  Whoever  has 
heard  any  thing  of  the  Lives  of  famous 
Statuary s^  ArchiteBs^  or  Painters,  will  call 
to  mind  many  Inflances  of  this  nature. 
Or  whoever  has  made  any  acquaintance 
with  the  better  fort  of  Mechankks^  fuch  as 
are  real  Lovers  of  their  Art,  and  Maft^rs 
in  it,  muft  have  obferv'd  their  natural  Fi- 
delity in  this  refped;.  Be  they  ever  fo  idle, 
dilTolute,  or  debauch'd  j  how  regardlefs 
foever  of  other  Rules ;  they  abhor  any 
Tranfgreflion  i?t  their  Art,  and  wou'd  chufe 
to  lofe  Cuftomers  and  ftarve,  rather  than 
by  a  bafe  Compliance  with  the  World, 
to  a6t  contrary  to  what  they  call  the  Juji- 
nefs  and  Truth  of  IVcrk. 

"  Sir,  (fays  a  poor  Fellow  of  this  kind, 
to  his  rich  Cuftomer)  "  you  are  miftaken 
"  in  coming  to  me,  for  fuch  a  piece  of 
*'  Workmanfhip.  Let  who  will  make  it 
*'  for  you,  as  you  fanfy ;  I  know  it  to  be 
"  wrong.  Whatever  1  have  made  hither- 
R  4  "  to, 


i6i  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2."  to,    has  been  true  Work.      And  neither 
(•V^  "  for  your  fake  or  any  body's  elfe,  (hall  I 
"  put  my  hand  to  any  other." 

This  is  Virtue !  real  Virtue^  and  Love 
of  Truth ;  independent  of  Opinio?!^  and  a- 
bove  the  World.  This  Difpofition  tranf- 
fer'd  to  the  whole  of  Life,  perfects  a  Cha- 
racter, and  makes  that  Probity  and  Worth 
which  the  Learned  are  often  at  fuch  a  lofs 
to  explain.  For  is  there  not  a  Workmanfl)ip 
and  a  Truth  in  Actions?  Or  is  the 
Workmanfiip  of  this  kind  lefs  becoming, 
or  lefs  worthy  our  notice  ;  that  we  fhou'd 
not  in  this  cafe  be  as  furly  at  leaft  as  the 
honefl:  Artizan,  who  has  no  other  Philo- 
fophy,  than  what  Nature  and  his  Trade 
have  taught  him  ? 

When  one  confiders  this  Zeal  and 
Honefty  of  inferiour  Artifts,  one  wou'd 
wonder  to  fee  thofe  who  pretend  to  Skill 
and  Science  in  a  higher  kind,  have  fo  little 
regard  to  Truths  and  the  PerfeSlion  of  their 
Art.  One  wou'd  expeft  it  of  our  Writers, 
that  if  they  had  real  Ability,  they  fhou'd 
draw  /i't'  W  o  R  L  D  to  them ;  and  not  mean- 
ly ixitt  themfelves  to  the  WoRLp,  in  its 
weak  State.  We  may  juftly  indeed  make 
allowances  for  the  Simplicity  of  thofe  -early 
Genius  s  of  our  Nation,  who  after  fo  many 
barbarous  Ages,  when  Letters  lay  yet  in 
i;hgir  Ruins,   ma^e  t)old  Expqrfions  into  a 

vacant 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i^j 

vacant  Field,  to  feize  the  Ports  of  Ho-Sedt.  3. 
nour,  and  attain  the  Stations  which  were  ^^v^^ 
yet  unpoffefs'd  by  the  Wits  of  their  own 
Country.  But  fince  the  Age  is  now  fo  far 
advanced  ;  Learning  eftabUfh'd  ;  the  Rii!es 
of  Writing  dated  j  and  the  Truth  of  Art 
fo  well  apprehended,  and  every  where 
confefs'd  and  own'd  :  'tis  ftrange  to  fee  our 
Writers  as  unlliapen  flill  and  monflrous 
in  their  Works,  as  heretofore.  There  can 
be  nothing  more  ridiculous  than  to  hear 
our  Poets,  in  their  Pr^^^^j,  talk  of  Art 
and  Stru6ture ;  whilft  in  their  Pieces  they 
perform  as  ill  as  ever,  and  with  as  little 
regard  to  thofe  profefs'd  Rules  of  Art,  as 
the  honeft  Bards,  their  Predeceflbrs,  who 
had  never  heard  of  any  fuch  Rules,  or 
at  leafl  had  never  own'd  their  Juftice  or 
Validity. 

Had  the  early  Poets  of  Greece  thus 
complimented  their  Nation,  by  complying 
with  its  firfl  Relifh  and  Appetite  j  they 
had  not  done  their  Countrymen  fuch  Ser- 
vice, nor  themfelves  fuch  Honour  as  we 
find  they  did,  by  conforming  to  Truth 
and  Nature.  The  generous  Spirits  who 
firft  eflay'd  the  Way,  had  not  always  the 
World  on  their  fide  :  but  foon  drew 
after  'em  the  bejl  'judgments ;  and  foon 
afterwards  the  World  it-felf.  They 
forc'd  their  way  into  it,  and  by  weight 
of  Merit  turn'd  its  Judgment  on  their 
3  fide. 


1(^4  Ad'v I  en  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  fide.  They  form'd  their  Audience;  polifli'd 
-^  the  Age  j  refin'd  the  publick  Ear,  and 
fram'd  it  right  j  that  in  return  they  might 
be  rightly  and  laftingly  applauded.  Nor 
were  they  difappointed  in  their  Hope.  Th^ 
Applaulb  foon  came,  and  was  lafting  j  fof 
it  was  found.  They  have  Juftice  done  them 
at  this  day.  They  have  furviv'd  their  Na- 
tion ;  and  live,  the  in  a  dead  Language. 
The  more  the  Age  is  enlighten'd,  the  more 
they  fhine.  Their  Fame  muft  neceflarily 
laft  as  long  as  Letters  j  and  Poflerity  will 
ever  own  their  Merit. 

Our  m-odem  Authors,  on  the  contrary, 
are  turn'd  and  model'd  (as  themfelves  con-^ 
fefs)  by  the  pubiick  Relifh,  and  cuirent 
Humour  of  the  Times.  They  regulate 
themfelves  by  the  irregular  Fancy  of  the 
World ;  and  frankly  own  they  are  prepofte- 
rous  and  abfurd,  in  order  to  accommodate 
themfelves  to  the  Genius  of  the  Age.  In 
our  Days  the  Audience  makes  the  Poet ; 
and  the  Bookfeller  the  Author  :  with  what 
Profit  to  the  Publick,  or  what  Profpeft  of 
lafting  Fame  and  Honour  to  the  Writer^  let 
any  one  who  has  Judgment  imagine. 

But  tho  our  Writers  charge  their 
Faults  thus  freely  on  //?^  Pu  bl  i  c  k  ;  it 
will,  I  doubt,  appear  from  many  Inftan- 
ces,    that  this  Prad:ice  is  mere  Impofture : 

fince 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i^y 

fince  thofe  Abfurditys,  which  they  areSedt.  j. 
aptefl:  to  commit,  are  far  from  being  de-^>'VNJ 
lightfiil  or  entertaining.  We  are  glad  to 
take  up  with  what  our  Language  can  afford 
us  J  and  by  a  fort  of  Emulation  with  other 
Nations,  arc  forc'd  to  cry  up  fuch  Writers 
of  our  own,  as  may  beft  ferve  us  for  Com- 
parilbn.  But  when  we  are  out  of  this  Spirit, 
it  mufl  be  own'd,  we  are  not  apt  to  difco- 
ver  any  great  Fondnefs  or  Admiration  of 
our  Authors.  Nor  have  we  any,  whom  by 
mutual  Confent  we  make  to  be  our  Stan- 
dard. We  go  to  Playsy  or  to  other  Shows ; 
and  frequent  the  Theater,  as  the  Booth. 
We  read  Epicks  and  Dramaticks,  as  we  do 
Satin  and  Lampoons.  For  we  muft  of  ne- 
ceflity  know  what  IVit  as  well  as  what 
Scandal  is  flirring.  Read  we  muft  ;  let 
Writers  be  ever  fo  indifferent.  And  this 
perhaps  may  be  fome  occafion  of  the  Lazi- 
nefs  and  Negligence  of  our  Authors  j  who 
obferving  this  Need,  which  our  Curiolity 
brings  on  us,  and  making  an  exad:  Calcu- 
lation in  the  way  of  Trade,  to  know  juftly 
the  Quality  and  Quantity  of  the  publick 
Demand,  feed  us  thus  from  hand  to  mouth ; 
refolving  not  to  over-ftock  the  Market,  or 
be  at  the  pains  of  more  Corred:nefs  or  Wit 
than  is  abfolutely  neceffary  to  carry  on  the 
Traffick, 


Oujt 


266  Advice  fo  /i;?  Author. 

Part  2. 

^v^VNJ  Our  Satir  therefore  is  fcurrilous, 
buffooning,  and  without  Morals  or  In- 
ftruftion,  which  is  the  Majefty  and  Life 
of  this  kind  of  writing.  Our  Enco- 
mium or  Panegyrick  is  as  fulfom 
and  difpleafing,  by  its  proftitute  and  a- 
bandon'd  manner  of  Praife.  The  worthy 
Perfons  who  are  the  Subjects  of  it,  may 
well  be  efteem'd  Sufferers  by  the  Manner. 
And  the  Publick,  whether  it  will  or  no, 
is  forc'd  to  make  untoward  Refledlions, 
when  led  to  it  by  fuch  fatirizing  Pane- 
gyrijis.  For  ir\  reality  the  Nerve  and  Si- 
new of  modern  Panegyrick  lies  in  a  dull 
kind  of  Satir  ;  which  the  Author,  it's 
true,  intends  fhou'd  turn  to  the  advantage 
of  his  Subjed  ;  but  w^hich,  if  I  miflake 
not,  will  appear  to  have  a  very  contrary 
Effed. 

The  ufual  Method,  which  our  Authors 
take,  when  they  wou'd  commend  either 
a  Brother-Author^  a  JVit,  a  Hero,  a  Philo- 
fopher,  or  a  Statefman,  is  to  look  abroad, 
to  find  within  the  narrow  compafs  of  their 
Learning,  fome  eminent  Names  of  Per- 
fons, who  anfwer'd  to  thefe  Charadters 
in  a  former  time.  Thefe  they  are  fure  to 
lafh,  as  they  imagine,  with  fome  fharp 
flroke  of  Satir.  And  when  they  have 
ilripp'd  thefe  reverend  Perfonages  of  all 
their  fliare  of  Merit,   they  think  to  clothe 

their 


Advice  to  an  Author.  x6'/ 

their  Hero  with  the  Spoils.  Such  is  theSedt.  3. 
Sterility  of  thefe  Encomiajis !  They  know  ^^v^^-^ 
not  how  to  praife,  but  by  Detradtion.  If 
a  Fair-One  is  to  be  celebrated,  Helen 
muft  in  comparifon  be  deform'd ;  Venus 
her-felf  degraded.  That  a  Modern  may  be 
honour'd,  fome  Antient  muft  be  facrific'd. 
If  a  Poet  is  to  be  extol'd  j  down  with  a 
Homer  or  a  Pindar.  If  an  Or^/^r, 
or  Philofopher  ;  down  with  Demosthe- 
nes, Tully,  Plato.  If^  General  of 
our  Army  j  down  with  any  Hero  whatever 
of  Time  pall.  "  The  Romans  knew  no 
"  Difcipline  !  The  Grecians  never  learnt 
"  the  Art  of  War  !  " 

Were  there  an  Art  of  Writing  to  be 
form'd  upon  the  modern  Prad;ice ;  this 
Method  we  have  defer ib'd  might  perhaps 
be  ftyl'd  the  Ride  of  Dijpatchy  or  the 
Herculean  Law ;  by  which  Encomi- 
ajis, with  no  other  Weapon  than  their  fin- 
gle  Chibj  may  (ilence  all  other  Fame,  and 
place  their  Hero  in  the  vacant  Throne  of 
Honour.  I  wou'd  willingly  however  ad- 
vife  thefe  Cekbrators  to  be  a  little  more 
moderate  in  the  ufe  of  this  C/2/^-method. 
Not  that  I  pretend  to  ask  quarter  for  the 
Antients.  But  for  the  fake  merely  of  thofe 
Moderns^  whom  our  Panegyrifts  under- 
take to  praife,  I  wou'd  wifh  'em  to  be  a 
little  cautious  of  comparing  Charadlers. 
There   is  no  need  to  call  up  a  P  u  b  l  i- 

c  o  l  A, 


i6%  Adyicb  ta  an  Author. 

Part  2.eoLA,  or  a  SciPio,  an  Aristides, 
^^^V^^  or  a  C  A  T  o,  to  ferve  as  Foils.  Thefe 
were  Patriots  and  good  Generals  in  their 
time,  and  did  their  Country  honell:  fervice. 
No  offence  to  any  who  at  prefent  do  the 
feme.  The  Fabricius's,  the  i^Ml^ 
L I  u  s  *  s,  the  CiNciNNATUs's  (poor 
Men!)  may  be  fuffer'd  to  reft  quietly  :  or 
if  their  Ghofts  fhou'd,  by  this  unlucky 
kind  of  Inchantment,  be  rais'd  in  Mockery 
and  Contempt  ;  they  may  perhaps  prove 
troublefom  in  earneft,  and  caft:  fuch  Reflec- 
tions on  our  Panegyrijlsy  and  their  modern 
Patrons^  as  may  be  no-way  for  the  advan- 
tage of  either.  The  well-defer ving  Antients 
will  have  always  a  ftrong  Party  among  the 
Wife  and  Learned  of  every  Age.  And  the 
Memory  of  foreign  Worthy s,  as  well  as 
thofe  of  our  own  Nation,  will  with  grati- 
tude be  cherifh'd  by  the  nobler  Spirits  of 
Mankind.  The  Intereft  of  the  Dead  is  not 
fo  difregarded,  but  that  in  cafe  of  violence 
offer'd  'em,  thro*  partiality  to  the  Livhig^ 
there  are  Hands  ready  prepar'd  to  make 
fufficient  Reprifals. 

•  'TwAS  in  times  when  Flattery  grew 
much  in  fafhion,  that  the  Title  of  Panegy- 
rick  was  appropriated  to  fuch  Pieces  as 
contained  only  a  profufe  and  unlimited 
Praife  of  fome  lingle  Perfon.  The  an- 
tient  Panegyricks  were  no  other  than  mere- 

ly 


Advice  to  an  Author.  i6p 

ly  fuch  Writings^  as  Authors  of  every  kind  Sedt.  3. 
recited  at  the  folemn  Aflemblys  of  the  u/^VN^ 
People.  They  were  the  Exercifes  of  the 
Wits,  and  Men  of  Letters,  who,  as  well  as 
the  Men  of  bodily  Dexterity,  bore  their 
part  at  the  Olympick^  and  other  National 
aod  Fanegyrick  Games. 

The  British  Nation,  tho  they  have 
nothing  of  this  kind  ordain'd  or  eftablifh'd 
by  their  Laws,  are  yet  by  Nature  won- 
derfully inclin'd  to  the  fame  Fanegyrick 
Exercifes.  At  their  FairSy  and  during  the 
tjmc  of  publick  Fefiivalsy  they  perform 
their  rude  Olympicks,  and  fhew  an  Adtivity, 
and  Addrefs,  beyond  any  other  modern 
PeopJe  whatever.  Their  Trials  of  Skilly 
it's  true,  are  wholly  of  the  Body,  not  of 
the  Brain.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wonder'd  at,  if 
being  left  to  themfelves,  and  no  v^^ay  affift- 
ed  by  the  Laws  Oi  Magiftrate,  their  bodily 
Exercifes  retain  fomething  of  the  Barbarian 
Charadler,  or,  at  leaft,  fhew  their  *  Man- 
ners 


*  Whoever  has  a  thorow  Tajie  of  the  Wit  and  Man- 
ner of  Ho  R  A  c  E,  if  he  only  compares  his  Epiftle  to 
Augustus  (lib.  2.)  with  the  (ecret  Charafter  of  that 
Prince  from  Suetonius  and  other  Authors,  will 
eafily  find  what  Judgment  that  Poet  made  of  the  Ro- 
man  Tajle,  even  in  the  Peribn  of  his  Ibvereign  and  ad- 
mir'd  Roman  Prince  ;  whofe  natural  Love  of  Amphithea- 
trical  Spectacles,  and  other  Entertainments  (little  accom- 
modated to  the  Intereft  of  the  Mufes)  is  there  fufficiently 
infinuated.  The  Prince  indeed  was  (as  'tis  faid  above, 
f.  220.)  oblig'd  in  the  higheft  degree  to  his  poetical  and 
witty  Friends,    for  guiding  his  Talle,    and  ibrming  his 

Manners ; 


lyo         Advice  to  an  Author* 

Part  2.ners  to  hold  more  of  -f-  Rome  than 
^^'V'^  Greece.  The  Gladiatoriariy  and  other 
fanguinary  Sports,  which  we  allow  our 
People,  difcover  fufficiently  our  National 
Tafte.  And  the  Baitings  and  Slaughter  of 
fo  many  forts  of  Creatures,  tame  as  well 
as  wild,  for  Diverfion  merely,  may  witnefs 
the  extraordinary  Inclination  we  have  for 
Amphitheatrical  SpeBacles. 

I  KNOW  not  whether  it  be  from  this 
killing  Difpofition,  remark'd  in  us,  that 
our  Satirifis  prove  fuch  very  Slaughter- 
men ;  and  even  our  Panegyrick  Authors, 
or  Encomiajis,  delight  fo  much  in  the 
difpatching  Method  above  defcrib'd ;  But 

Manners ;  as  they  really  did,  with  good  effeft,  and  great 
advantage  to  his  Intercft.  Witnefs  what  even  that  flattering 
Court- Hiftorian,  Dion,  relates  of  the  frank  Treatment 
which  that  Prince  receiv'd  from  his  Friend  Mac  en  as  ; 
who  was  forc'd  to  draw  him  from  his  bloody  Tribunal,  and 
murderous  Delight,  with  the  Reproach  of  Surge  vero  tan- 
dem, Cartiifex  !  But  Horace,  according  to  his  Charadler 
and  Circumilances,  was  oblig'd  to  take  a  finer  and  more 
conceal'd  Manner,  both  with  the  Prince  and  Favourite. 

Omne  I'a^er  n}itium  ridenti  Flaccus   amic9 
^angity  ^3'  admijfus  circum  fracordia  ludit. 

Peff  Sat.  I. 

See  hel<nv,  VOL.  III.  p.  249.   in  the  Notes. 

f  We  may  add  to  this  Note  what  Tacitus  or  Quin- 
tilian  remarks  on  the  Subjeft  of  the  Roman  Tafte; 
Jam  'vero  propria  iff  peculiaria  hujus  Urbis  njitia  peene  in 
iitero  matris  concipi  mihi  'videntur,  hijirionalis  fa<vor,  ^  gla- 
diatorum  equorumque  Jludia :  quibus  occupatus  iff  obfejfus  ani- 
mus quantulum  loci  bonis  artibut  relinquit  ?  Dial,  de  Orato- 
ribus,  cap.  29. 

furc 


Advice  to  an  Autkori  271 

fure   I   am,   that   our   *   dramatick   Poets  Sedl.  3. 
ftand  violently  affeded  this  way ;  and  de-  *«-^V^-^ 
light  to  make  Havock  and  DeJlru5lion  of 
every  kind. 

'Tis  alledg'd  indeed  by  our  Stage-* 
Poets,  in  excufe  for  vile  Ribaldry  and 
other  grofs  Irregularitys,  both  in  the  Fa- 
ble and  Language  of  their  Pieces ;  that 
their  Succefs,  w^hich  depends  chiefly  011 
the  Ladys,  is  never  fo  fortunate,  as  v^^hen 
this  Havock  is  made  on  Virtue  and  good 
Senfe,  and  tlieir  Pieces  are  exhibited  pub- 
lickly  in  this  monftrous  Form.  I  know 
not  how  they  can  anfwer  it  to  the  Fair 
Sex,  to  fpeak  (as  they  pretend)  exper'nnen- 
tall)\  and  with  fuch  nice  diftindion  of 
their  Audience.  How  far  this  Excufe  may 
ferve  'em  in  relation  to  common  Amours 
and  Love-Adventures^  I  will  not  take  upon 
me  to  pronounce.  But  I  muft  own,  I 
have  often  wonder'd  to  fee  our  *  fighting 
Plays  become  fo  much  the  Entertainment 
of  that  tender  Sex. 

They  who  have  no  help  from  Learn- 
ing to  obferve  the  wider  Periods  or  Re- 
volutions of  human  Kind,  the  Alterations 
which  happen  in  Manners,  and  the  Flux 
and  Reflux  of  Politenefs,  Wit,  and  Art; 
are  apt  at  every  turn  to  make  the  prefent 


» 


VOL.  III.  /.  256. 


Vol.  I.  S  Age 


27i  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  Age  their  Standard,  and  imagine  nothing 
v^v^-'  barbarous  or  favage,  but  what  is  contrary 
to  the  Manners  of  their  own  Time.  The 
fame  pretended  Judges,  had  they  flourifli'd 
in  our  Britain  at  the  time  when  C  m- 
SAR  made  his  firft  Defcent,  wou'd  have 
condemn'd,  as  a  whimfical  Critick,  the  Man 
who  fhou'd  have  made  bold  to  cenfure 
our  deficiency  of  Clothing,  and  laugh  at 
the  blue  Cheeks  and  party-colour'd  Skins 
which  were  then  in  faftiion  with  our  An- 
ceftors.  Such  muft  of  neceffity  be  the 
Judgment  of  thofe  who  are  only  Cr kicks 
by  faflmn.-  But  to  a  juft  Naturaliji  or 
Humaniji,  who  knows  the  Creature  Man, 
and  judges  of  his  Growth  and  Improve- 
ment in  Society,  it  appears  evidently  that 
we  Britip  Men  were  as  barbarous  and  un- 
civiliz'd  in  refped:  of  the  Romans  under  a 
C  ^  s  A  R,  as  the  Romans  themfelves  were  in 
refpe6t  of  the  Grecians^  when  they  invaded 
that  Nation  under  aMuMMius. 

The  noble  Wits  of  a  Court-Education, 
who  can  go  no  farther  back  into  Antiqui- 
ty than  their  Pedegree  will  carry  *em,  arc 
able  however  to  call  to  mind  the  different 
State  of  Manners  in  fome  few  Reigns  paft, 
when  Chivalry  was  in  fuch  repute.  The 
Ladys  were  then  Spectators  not  only  of 
feign'd  Combats  and  martial  Exercifes,  but 
of  real  Duels  and  bloody  Feats  of  Arms. 
They  fat  as  Umpires  and  Judges  of  the 

doughty 


Advice  to  an  Author.  27^ 

doughty  Frays.  Thefe  were  the  Saint-Pro- Sedl.  3. 
ted:fices,  to  whom  the  Champions  chiefly  ^*^y"^ 
paid  their  Vows,  and  to  whom  they  recom- 
mended themfehes  by  thefe  galante  Quar- 
rels, and  elegant  Decifions  of  Right  and 
Juftice.  Nor  is  this  Spirit  fo  entirely  loft 
amongft  us,  but  that  even  at  this  hour 
the  Fair  Sex  infpire  us  ftill  with  the  Fancy 
of  like  Gallantrys.  They  are  the  chief 
Subject  of  many  fuch  civil  Turmoils,  and 
remain  ftill  the  fecret  influencing  Conftella- 
tion  by  which  we  are  engag'd  to  give  and 
afk  that  Satisfadiion,  which  is  peculiar  to 
the  Jine  Gejttlemen  of  the  Age.  For  thus  a 
certain  Galante  of  our  Court  exprefs'd  the 
Cafe  very  naturally,  when  being  afk'd  by 
his  Friends,  why  one  of  his  eftablifti'd 
Character  for  Courage  and  good  Senfe, 
wou'd  anfwer  the  Challenge  of  a  Cox- 
comb ;  he  confefs'd,  "  That  for  his  own 
"  Sex,  he  cou'd  fafely  truft  their  Judg- 
"  ment :  But  how  fliou'd  he  appear  at 
"  night  before  the  Maids  of  Honour  .^  " 

Such  is  the  different  Genius  of  Na- 
tions }  and  of  the  fame  Nation  in  diffe- 
rent Times  and  Seafons.  For  fo  among 
the  Antients,  lome  have  been  known  ten- 
der of  the  *  Sex  to  fuch  a  degree,  as  not 

to 

•  Contra,  ea  pleraque  mjirls  morihiis  funt  decora,  qua  a- 

fud  illos  turpia  futantur.     ^em  enim  Romanorum  pudtt 

uxorem  ducere  in  convvvium  ?    Aut  cujus  materfatnilius  non 

frimum  locum  tenet  adium,   atque  in  celebritate  <verfatur  ? 

S  z  i'^od 


274  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2. to  fufFer  'em  to  expofe  their  Modefty,  by 
v^v^w/the  View  of  Mafculine  Games,  or  Thea- 
trical Reprefentations  of  any  kind  what- 
ever. Others,  on  the  contrary,  have  in- 
troduced them  into  their  Amphitheaters, 
and  made  'em  Sharers  in  the  cruelleft 
Spedtacles. 

But  let  our  Authors  or  Poets  com- 
plain ever  fo  much  of  the  Genius  of  our 
People,  'tis  evident,  we  are  not  altoge- 
ther fo  Barbarous  Or  Gothick  as  they  pre- 
tend. We  are  naturally  no  ill  Soil;  and 
have  mufical  Parts  which  might  be  cul- 
tivated with  great  advantage,  if  thefe 
Gentlemen  wou'd  ufe  the  Art  o£  Mafters 
in  their  Compofition.  They  have  power 
to  work  upon  our  better  Inclinations,  and 

quod  multo  fit  aliter  in  Grjecia.  Vam  neque  in  con'vi'vium 
adhibetufy  nifi  propinquoruniy  neque  fedett  nifi  in  interiore 
parte  adium,  quie  gy7i^conitis  appellatur :  quo  nemo  accedif, 
niji propinqud  cognatione  cotijunSlus,  CoRN.  Nep.  in  Praefat. 
See  alfo  ^lian,  Cap.  i.  Lib.  lo.  and  the  Law  in  Pau- 
sANiAs,  Lib.  5.  Cap.  6.  and  the  Story  of  ^Elian  better 
related,  as  to  the  Circumltances.  Hinc  de  faxo  Fctminas 
dijicere  Lex  jubet,  qua  ad  Olytnpicos  Ludos  penetrajfe  depre- 
henfee  fuerint,  fvel  qu^e  omnino  Alpheum  tranfmiferint,  quibus 
eji  eis  interdlSium  diebus :  Non  tamen  deprehenfam  ejfe  ullam 
ierhibent  prater  tinarn  Callipatiram,  quam  alii  Pherenicem 
nominant.  Hac,  'viro  mortxio,  cum  'virili  ornatu  exercitationum 
fe  Magijlrum  fimulans,  Pifidorum  filiutn  in  certamen  deduxit ; 
jamque  eo  njincente,  fepimentufn  id,  quo  Magijiros  feclufos  ha- 
hent,  tranfiluit  vejie  amijfd,  Inde  Feeminam  agnitam  omrti 
crimine  liberdrunt.  Datum  hoc  ex  "Judicum  aquitate  Pa- 
tris,  Fratrum,  iff  Filii  gloria  ;  qui  emnes  ex  Olympicis 
Ludis  n^i Stores  abierant.  Ex  eo  lege  fancitunit  ut  nudati 
^dejjfent  ludis  ipfi  etiam  Magi  fir  i. 

may 


Advice  to  an  Author.  275 

may  know  by  certain  Tokens,  that  their  Sedl.  3, 
Audience  is  difpos'd  to  receive  nobler  Sub-\y^sr\i 
jeSis,  and  tafte  a  better  Manner^  than  that 
which,  thro*  indulgence  to  themfehes  more 
than    to    the    Worlds    they    are   generally 
pleas'd  to  make  their  choice. 

Besides  fome  laudable  Attempts  which 
have  been  made  with  tolerable  Succefs, 
of  late  years,  towards  a  jufl  manner  of 
Writing,  both  in  the  heroick  and  familiar 
Style ;  we  have  older  Proofs  of  a  right 
Difpofition  in  our  People  towards  the 
moral  and  inftrudtive  Way.  Our  *  old 
dramatick  Poet  may  witnefs  for  our  good 
Ear  and  manly  Relifli.  Notwithftanding 
his  natural  Rudenefs,  his  unpolifh'd  Style, 
his  antiquated  Phrafe  and  Wit,  his  want 
of  Method  and  Coherence,  and  his  Defi- 
ciency in  almoft  all  the  Graces  and  Or- 
naments of  this  kind  of  Writings ;  yet  by 
the  Juftnefs  of  his  Moral,  the  Aptnefs 
©f  many  of  his  Defcriptions,  and  the  plain 
and  natural  Turn  of  feveral  of  his  Cha- 
raBers^  he  pleafes  his  Audience,  and  often 
gains  their  Ear,  without  a  fmgle  Bribe 
from  Luxury  or  Vice.  That  -f*  Piece  of 
his,  which  appears  to  have  moft  affeded 
B.nglijh  Hearts,  and  has  perhaps  been  oft- 
neft  adled  of  any  which  have  come  upon 
our  Stage,  is  almoft  one  continu'd  Moral -^ 

*  Shakespear. 

j-  The  Tragedy  of  Hamlet. 

S  3  a 


ry6  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.  a  Series  of  deep  Reflexions,  drawn  from 
^•v"^-'  one  Mouth,  upon  the  Subjecft  of  one  fingle 
Accident  and  Calamity,  naturally  fitted  to 
move  Horror  and  Compaffion.  It  may 
be  properly  faid  of  this  Play,  if  I  miftake 
nor,  that  it  has  only  One  CharaBer  or 
principal  Parf.  It  contains  no  Adoration 
or  Flattery  of  the  Sex :  no  ranting  at  the 
Gods :  no  bluftring  Heroifm  :  nor  any  thing 
of  that  curiops  mixture  of  the  Fierce  and 
T^ender^  which  makes  the  hinge  of  modern 
Tragedy,  and  nicely  varies  it  between  the 
Points  of  hov^  aiid  Honour, 

Upon  the  whole :  fince  in  the  two  great 
poetick  Stations,  the  Kpick  and  Drama- 
tick^  we  may  obferve  the  moral  Genius  fo 
naturally  prevalent :  fince  our  *  moft  ap- 
prov'd  heroick  Poem  has  neither  the  Soft- 
nefs  of  Language,  nor  the  fafhionable  Turn 
of  Wit ;  but  merely  folid  Thought,  flrong 
Reafoning,  noble  Pafilon,  and  a  continu'd 
Thred  of  moral  Dodrine,,  Piety,  and  Vir- 
tue to  recommend  it ;  we  may  juftly  infer, 
that  it  is  not  fo  much  the  publick  Ear,  as 
the  ill  Hand  and  vitious  Manner  of  our 
Poets,  which  need  redrefs. 


AND  thus,  at  laft,  we  are  return'd  to 
our  old  Article  of  Advice;  that  main 
Preliminary  of  Self-Jiudy  and  inward  Con- 

*  'iS/lii,TO-!i''s  Paradife  Loji. 

*oerJe^ 


Advice  to  an  Author.  277 

"verfe,  which  we  have  found  fo  much  want-Se(5t.  3, 
ing  in  the  Authors  of  our  Time.  They  ^--^v^ 
(hou'd  add  the  Wifdom  of  the  Heart  to  the 
Tafk  and  Exercife  of  the  Brain,  in  order 
to  bring  Proportion  and  Beauty  into  their 
Works.  That  their  Compofition  and  Vein 
of  Writing  may  be  natural  and  free,  they 
(hou'd  fettle  matters,  in  the  firft  place,  with 
themfelves.  And  having  gain'd  a  Maftery 
here-,  they  may  ealily,  wich  the  help  of 
their  Genius^  and  a  right  ufe  of  j^rt,  com- 
mand their  Audience,  and  eflablifh  a  good 
Tajie. 

'Tis  on  Themfehes,  that  all  depends. 
We  have  conlider'd  their  other  Subjedis  of 
Excufe.  We  have  acquitted  the  Great 
Men,  their  prefumptive  Patrons;  whom 
we  have  left  to  their  own  Difcretion.  We 
have  prov'd  the  Critic ks  not  only  an 
inoffenlive,  but  highly  ufeful  Race.  And 
for  the  Au  Di  EN  c  E,  we  have  found  it  not 
fo  bad  as  might  perhaps  at  firfl  be  appre- 
hended. 

It  remains  that  we  pafs  Sentence  on 
our  Authors  ;  after  having  precluded  'em 
their  laft  Refuge.  Nor  do  we  condemn 
'em  on  their  want  of  Wit  or  Fancy ;  but 
of  'Judgment  and  CorreSlnefs ;  which  can 
only  be  attained  by  thorow  Diligence,  Study, 
and  impartial  Cenfure  of  themfehes.  'Tis 
S  4  Man- 


178  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  2.*  Manners  which  is  wanting,     'Tis  a 
t/^W<  due  Sentiment  of  Morals  which  alone 

can  make  us  knowing  in  Order  and  Pro-. 

portion,    and   give  us  the  jufl  Tone  and 

Meafurc  of  human  Paffion. 

S  o  much  the  Poet  muft  neceffarily  bor- 
row of  the  Phi/o/bpher,  as  to  be  Mafter  of 
the  common  T  o  p  i  c  k  s  of  Morality.  He 
muft  at  leaft  be  Jpeciotijly  honeft,  and  in 
all  appearance  a  Friend  to  Virtue,  thro' out 
his  Poem.  The  Good  and  Wife  will  abate 
him  nothing  in  this  kind.  And  the  People, 
tho  corrupt,  are,  in  the  main,  beft  fatisfy'd 
with  this  Condud. 

Speciofa  L  o  c  i  s,  morataj'z/^  reBe 
Fabula,  nullius  'veneris,  fine  ponder e  ^  arte, 
Valdius  ohleBat  populiim,  meliufque  moratur, 
^am  'verfus  inopes  rerum,  nugcjeque  canorce, 

Hor,  de  Arte  Poet. 

f  Su^a,  pag.  208.    y   Infra,   p.  337,  350,  351.  in   the 
Notes.    And  VOL.  III.  /.  247,  248,  249,  273,  282. 


PART 


Advice  to  an  Author.  279 


Sea  r. 


PART    III. 


SECT.     I. 

TIS  efteem'd  the  higheft  Complin 
ment  which  can  be  paid  a  Wri- 
tery  on  the  occafion  of  fome  new 
Work  he  has  made  publick,  to  tell  him, 
"  That  he  has  undoubtedly yz^r/^/iV  H  i  m- 
^*  s  E  L  F."  And  indeed  when  one  obferves 
how  well  this  Compliment  is  receiv'd,  one 
wou'd  imagine  it  to  contain  fome  won- 
derful Hyperbole  of  Praife.  For  according 
to  the  Strain  of  modern  Politenefs ;  'tis 
not  an  ordinary  Violation  of  Truth,  which 
can  afford  a  Tribute  fufficient  to  anfwer 
any  common  degree  of  Merit.  Now  'tis 
well  known  that  the  Gentlemen  whofe 
Merit  lies  towards  Authorjhip,  are  unwil- 
ling to  make  the  leaft  abatement  on  the 
foot  of  this  Ceremonial.  One  wou'd  won- 
der therefore  to  find  'em  fo  entirely  fatif- 
fy'd  with  a  Form  of  Praife,  which  in  plain 
fenfe  amounts  to  no  more  than  a  bare  Af- 
iirmative,  "  That  they  have  in  fome  man- 
^.*  ner   differ'd  from   themfelveSj    and   are 

*'  become 


iSo  Advice  /o  an  Author. 

Part  3."  become  fomewhat  worfe  or  better^  than 
C/'VNj  "  their  common  rate."     For  if  the  vileft 
Writer  grows  "viler  than  ordinary,    or  ex- 
ceeds his  natural  pitch  on  either  fide,  he  is 
juftly  faid  to  exceed^  or  go  beyond  himj'elf. 

W  E  find  in  the  fame  manner,  that  there 
is  no  expreffion  more  generally  us'd  in  a 
way  of  Compliment  to  great  Men  and 
Princes,  than  that  plain  one,  which  is 
fo  often  verify *d,  and  may  be  fafely  pro- 
nounc'd  for  Truth,  on  moft  occafions  5 
"  That  they  have  adted  like  themfeheSy 
"  and  futably  to  their  own  Genius  and 
"  Character."  The  Compliment,  it  muft 
be  own'd,  founds  well.  No  one  fufpedts  it. 
For  what  Perfon  is  there  who  in  his  Imagi- 
nation joins  not  fomething  worthy  and  de- 
ferving  with  his  true  and  native  Self,  as 
oft  as  he  is  refer'd  to  it,  and  made  to  con- 
fider.  Who  he  is  ?  Such  is  the  natural 
AfFedtion  of  all  Mankind  towards  moral 
Beauty  and  Perfection,  that  they  never 
fail  in  making  this  Prefumption  in  behalf 
of  themfelves  :  "  That  by  Nature  they 
"  have  fomething  eftimable  and  worthy 
"  in  refpedt  of  others  of  their  Kind  j  and 
"  that  their  genuifie^  true,  and  natural 
"  Self,  is,  as  it  ought  to  be,  of  real 
"  value  in  Society,  and  juflly  honourable  . 
"  for  the  fake  of  its  Merit,  and  good  Qua- 
"  litys."  They  conclude  therefore  they 
have  the  height  of  Praife  allotted  'em, 
I  when 


Advice  to  an  Author.  281 

xvhen  they  are  aflfur'd  by  any-one,  that  they  Sed:.  i. 
have    done    nothing  h/ow    themfehes,     or  ^-''-y">^ 
that  in  fome  particular  Adion,  they  have 
exceeded  the  ordinary  I'enor  of  their  Cha- 

rader. 

Thus  is  every-one  convinc'd  of  the 
Reality  of  a  better  Self,  and  of  the  Cult 
or  Homage  which  is  due  to  It.  The  mif- 
fortune  is,  we  are  feldom  taught  to  com- 
prehend this  Self^  by  placing  it  in  a  dif- 
tindt  View  from  its  Reprefentative  or  Coun- 
terfeit. In  our  holy  Religion,  which  for 
the  greateft  part  is  adapted  to  the  very 
meaneft  Capacitys,  'tis  not  to  be  expeded 
that  a  Speculation  of  this  kind  fhou'd 
be  openly  advanc'd.  'Tis  enough  that 
we  have  Hints  given  us  of  a  nobler  Selfy 
than  that  which  is  commonly  fuppos'd 
the  Bafis  and  Foundation  of  our  Adions. 
Self'IntereJl  is  there  taken,  as  it  is  vul- 
garly conceiv'd.  Tho  on  the  other  fide 
there  are,  in  the  mofl  *  facred  Characters, 
Examples  given  us  of  the  higheft  Con- 
tempt of  all  fuch  interefted  Views,  of  a 
Willingnefs  to  fuffer  without  recompence 
for  the  fake  of  others,  and  of  a  defire  to 
part  even  with  Life  and  Being  it-felf,  on 
account  of  what  is  generous  and  worthy. 
But  in  the  fame  manner  as  the  celeftial 


*  ExoD.  Ch.  xxxii.  ver.  31,  32,  ^c.    and  Roi.i.   Ch. 
ix.  ver.  i,  2,  3,  i^c. 

Phcenomana 


2? 2  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.  Phenomena  are  in  the  Sacred  Volumes  ge- 
l/VV  nerally  treated  according  to  common  Ima- 
gination, and  the  then  current  Syflem  of 
Aftronomy  and  natural  Science ;  fo  the 
moral  Appearances  are  in  many  places  pre- 
ferv'd  without  Alteration,  according  to 
vulgar  Prejudice,  and  the  general  Concep- 
tion of  Intereji  and  Self-good.  Our  real 
and  ge?juine  Self  is  fometimes  fuppos'd 
that  ambitious  one  which  is  fond  of  Power 
and  Glory ;  fometimes  that  childijh  one 
which  is  taken  with  vain  Shew,  and  is  to 
be  invited  to  Obedience  by  promife  of 
finer  Habitations,  precious  Stones  and 
Metals,  fhining  Garments,  Crowns,  and 
other  fuch  dazling  Beautys,  by  which 
another  Earthy  or  material  C/Vy,  is  repre- 
fented. 

It  muft  be  own'd,  that  even  at  that 
time,  when  a  greater  and  purer  Light 
difclos'd  it-felf  in  the  chofen  Nation ; 
their  natural  *  Gloominefs  appear'd  ftill, 
by  the  great  difficulty  they  had  to  know 
themfehes^  or  learn  their  real  Intereji,  after 
fuch  long  Tutorage  and  Inftrudlion  from 
above,^  The  Simplicity  of  that  People  muft 
certainly  have  been  very  great ;  when  the 
beft  Do(ftrine  cou'd  not  go  down  with- 
out a  Treaty    and  the  beft  Difciples  had 

*  Supra,  p.  29.    &  VOL.  III.  p.  53 


Advice  to  an  Author.  28} 

their  Heads  fo  running  upon  their  Loaves,  Se6t,  i. 
that  they  were  apt  to  conftrue  every  di-  (•YN^ 
vine  Saying  in  a  *  5^//y-Senfe,  and  thought 
nothing  more  felf-conftituent  than  that  in- 
ferior Receptacle.  Their  Tafte  in  Morals 
cou'd  not  fail  of  being  futable  to  this  ex- 
traordinary Eftimation  of  themjehes.  No 
wonder  if  the  better  and  Jiobler  Self  was 
left  as  a  Myftery  to  a  People,  who  of  all 
human  Kind  were  the  mofl  groily  felfifi^ 
crooked  and  perverfe.  So  that  it  muft  ne- 
cefTarily  be  confefs'd,  in  honour  of  their 
divine  Legiilators,  Patriots,  and  Inftrudors ; 
that  they  exceeded  all  others  in  Goodnefs 
and  Generofity  ;  fince  they  cou'd  fo  truly 
love  their  Nation  and  Brethren,  fuch  as 
they  were  ;  and  cou'd  have  fo  generous  and 
difinterefled  Regards  for  thofe,  who  were  in 
themfelves  fo  fordidly  interefted  and  unde- 
ferving. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  proper  Ef- 
fect or  Operation  of  Religion,  'tis  the 
known  Province  of  Philofophy  to  teach  us 
mr-feheSy  keep  us  the  felf-J'ame  Perfons, 
and  fo  regulate  our  governing  Fancys, 
PafTions,  and  Humours,  as  to  make  us 
comprehenfible  to  our  felves,  and  know- 
able  by  other  Features  than  thofe  of  a 
bare  Countenance.  For  'tis  not  certainly 
by  virtue  of   our  Face  merely,    that  we 

*  Mat.  Ch.  x\'i.  ver.  6,  7,  8,  &c 

arc 


184  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3. are  our-fehes.     'Tis  not  WE  who  change, 
CO/**^when  our  Complexion  or  Shape  changes. 
But  there  is  thaty  which  being  wholly  me- 
tamorphosed and  converted,  W  E  are  there- 
by in  reality  transform'd  and  loft. 

Should  an  intimate  Friend  of  ours, 
who  had  endur'd  many  SicknefTes,  and  run 
many  ill  Adventures  while  he  travel'd  thro* 
the  remoteft  parts  of  the  Eaft,  and  hotteft 
Countrys  of  the  South,  return  to  us  fo  al- 
ter'd  in  his  whole  outward  Figure,  that 
till  we  had  for  a  time  convers'd  with 
him,  we  cou*d  not  know  him  again  to 
be  the  fame  Perfon ;  the  matter  wou'd  not 
feem  fo  very  ftrange,  nor  wou'd  our  con- 
cern on  this  account  be  very  great.  But 
fhou'd  a  like  Face  and  Figure  of  a  Friend 
return  to  us  with  Thoughts  and  Humours 
of  a  ftrange  and  foreign  Turn,  with  Paf- 
fions,  AfFed:ions,  and  Opinions  wholly  dif- 
ferent from  any  thing  we  had  formerly 
known ;  we  ftiou'd  fay  in  earneft,  and 
with  the  greateft  Amazement  and  Con- 
cern, that  this  was  another  Creature^  and 
not  the  Friend  whom  we  once  knew  fami- 
liarly. Nor  ftiou'd  we  in  reality  attempt 
any  renewal  of  Acquaintance  or  Corre- 
fpondence  with  fuch  a  Perfon,  tho  per- 
haps he  might  prelerve  in  his  Memory  the 
faint  Marks  or  Tokens  of  former  Tranf- 
adions  which  had  pafs'd  between  us. 

When 


Advice  to  an  Author.  285 

Sed:.  I. 
W  H  E  N  a  Revolution  of  this  kind,  tho  ^>^VNJ 
not  fo  total,  happens  at  any  time  in  a  Cha- 
rader ;  when  the  Paflion  or  Humour  of  a 
known  Perfon  changes  remarkably  from 
what  it  once  was  ;  'tis  to  Philofophy  we 
then  appeal.  'Tis  either  the  Want  or 
Weaknefs  of  this  Principle,  which  is 
charg'd  on  the  Delinquent.  And  on  this 
bottom  it  is,  that  we  often  challenge 
our-felves,  when  we  find  fuch  variation 
in  our  Manners ;  and  obferve  that  it  is 
not  always  the  fame  Self,  nor  the  fame  In^ 
terefl  we  have  in  view  j  but  often  a  direct 
contrary-one,  which  we  ferve  ftill  with  the 
fame  Paflion  and  Ardour.  When  from  a 
noted  Liberality  we  change  perhaps  to  as 
remarkable  a  Parfimony  ;  when  from  In- 
dolence and  Love  of  Reft  we  plunge  into 
Bufinefs;  or  from  a  bufy  and  fevere  Cha- 
rader,  abhorrent  from  the  tender  Converfe 
of  the  fair  Sex,  we  turn  on  a  fudden  to  a 
contrary  Paflion,  and  become  amorous  or 
uxorious  :  we  acknowledg  the  Weaknefs ; 
and  charging  our  Defe6t  on  the  general 
want  of  Philofophy,  we  fay  (fighing)  "  That, 
*'  indeed,  we  none  of  us  truly  know  our- 
"  fehes!'  And  thus  we  recognize  the 
Authority  and  proper  Object  of  Philofo- 
phy ;  fo  far  at  leaft,  that  tho  we  pretend 
not  to  be  compleat  Philofophers,  we  con- 
fefs,  "  That  as  we  have  more  or  lefs  of 
"  this  Intelligence  or    Comprehenfion   of 

"  our- 


i86         Advice  to  an  Author; 

Part  3."  our-felves,   we  are  accordingly  more  of 
t/VN; "  lefs  truly  Men,  and  either  more  or  lefs 
"  to  be  depended  on,  in  Friendihip,    So- 
^'  ciety,  and  the  Commerce  of  Life." 

The  Fruits  of  this  Science  are  indeed 
the  faireft  imaginable ;  and,  upon  due  trial, 
are  found  to  be  as  well  relifh'd,  and  of  as 
good  favour  with  Mankind.  But  when 
invited  to  the  Speculation,  we  turn  our 
Eyes  on  that  which  we  fuppofe  the  ^ref, 
'tis  no  wonder  if  we  flight  the  Gardener-- 
Jkip,  and  think  the  manner  of  Culture  a 
very  contemptible  Myflery.  "  Grapes^  'tis 
*'  faid,  are  not  gather  d  from  Thorns  ;  nor 
"  ^^^^  from  Thifles'*  Now  if  in  the  lite- 
rate World  there  be  any  choking  Weed, 
any  thing  purely  Thorn  or  Thijlle,  'tis  in  all 
likelihood  that  very  kind  of  Plant  which 
flands  for  *  Philojbphy  in  fome  famous 
Schools.  There  can  be  nothing  more  ridi- 
culous than  to  expedl  that  Manners  or  Un- 
derjianding  fhou'd  fprout  from  fuch  a  Stock. 
It  pretends  indeed  fome  relation  to  Manners^ 
as  being  definitive  of  the  Natures,  Eflen- 
ces,  and  Propertys  of  Spirits  j  and  fome  re- 
lation to  ReafoHy  as  defcribing  the  Shapes 
and  Forms  of  certain  Inftruments  imploy'd 
in  the  reafoning  Art.  But  had  the  craf- 
tieft  of  Men,  for  many  Ages  together, 
been  imploy'd  in  finding  out  a  method  to 

*  Infra,  p.  333,  334,  335.  and  VOL,  III,  p.  184, 185, 
IS6. 

%  confound 


Advice  to  an  Author,  287 

confound  Reafon^  and  degrade  the  Umfer-StO:.  i. 
JIanding  of  Mankind  j  they  cou'd  not  per-  ^^/"V^ 
haps   have  fucceeded  better,    than  by  the 
EftabHfhment  of  fuch  a  Mock-Science, 

I  KNEW  once  a  notable  Enthufiajt  of 
the  itinerant  kind,  who  being  upon  a  high 
Spiritual  Adventure  in  a  Country  where 
prophetick  Miffions  are  treated  as  no  Jeft, 
was,  as  he  told  me,  committed  a  clofe 
Prifoner,  and  kept  for  feveral  months 
where  he  faw  no  manner  of  Light.  In 
this  Banifhment  from  Letters  and  Dif- 
courfe,  the  Mun  very  wittily  invented  an 
Amufement  much  to  his  purpofe,  and 
highly  prefervative  both  of  Health  and 
Humour.  It  may  be  thought  perhaps, 
that  of  all  Seafons  or  Circumflances  here 
was  one  the  moil  futable  to  our  oft-men- 
tion'd  prad:ice  of  Soliloqjjy;  efpe- 
cially  fince  the  Prifoner  was  one  of  thofe 
whom  in  this  Age  we  ufually  call  Philofo- 
phers^  a  SuccelTor  of  Paracelsus,  and 
a  Mafter  in  the  occult  Sciences.  But  as 
to  Moral  Science,  or  any  thing  relating  to 
Self-coJj'verfe,  he  was  a  mere  Novice.  To 
work  therefore  he  went,  after  a  different 
method.  He  tun'd  his  natural  Pipes  not 
after  the  manner  of  a  Mufician,  to  prac- 
tife  what  was  melodious  and  agreeable  in 
Sounds,  but  to  fafhion  and  form  all  forts 
of  articulate  Voices  the  moft  diftindtly 
that  was  poflible.     This  he  pcrform'd  by 

Vol  I.  T  fire- 


288  Advice  ^(7  472  Author. 

Part  3.ftrcnuoufly  exalting  his  Voice,  and  effay- 
v.^'Y^*^  ing  it  in  all  the  feveral  Difpofitions  and 
Configurations  of  his  Throat  and  Mouth. 
And  thus  bellowing,  roaring,  fnarling,  and 
otherwife  varioufly  exerting  his  Organs  of 
Sound,  he  endeavour'd  to  difcover  what 
Letters  of  the  Alphabet  cou'd  beft  defign 
each  Species,  or  what  new  Letters  were  to 
be  invented,  to  mark  the  undifcover'd  Mo- 
difications. He  found,  for  inftance,  the 
Letter  ^  to  be  a  moft  genuine  Charadter, 
an  original  and  pure  Vowel,  and  juilly 
plac'd  as  principal  in  the  front  of  the  alpha- 
betick  Order.  For  having  duly  extended 
his  under  Jaw  to  its  utmoft  diftance  from 
the  upper  5  and  by  a  proper  Infertion  of 
his  Fingers  provided  againfl  the  Contrac- 
tion of  either  Corner  of  his  Mouth  j  he 
experimentally  difcover'd  it  impoflible  for 
human  Tongue  under  thefe  Circumftances 
to  emit  any  other  Modification  of  Sound 
than  that  which  was  defcrib'd  by  this 
primitive  Charadler.  The  Vowel  O  was 
form'd  by  an  orbicular  Difpofition  of  the 
Mouth ;  as  was  aptly  delineated  in  the 
Charader  it-felf.  The  Vowel  U  by  a  pa- 
rallel Protrufion  of  the  Lips.  The  other 
Vowels  and  Confonants  by  other  various 
CoUifions  of  the  MQUth,  and  Operations  of 
the  adlive  Tongue  upon  the  paffive  Gum 
or  Palar.  The  Relult  of  this  profound 
Speculation  and  long  Exercife  of  our  Pri- 
foner,  was  a  Fbilojbfhical  T'reatife^  which 

he 


Advice  to  an  Author.  289 

he  compos'd  when  he  Vvas  fet  at  liberty. Set5l.  i. 
He  efteem'd  himfelf  the  only  Mafter  ofu'^VNJ 
Voice  and  Language  on  the  account  of  this 
his  radical  Science,  and  fundamental  Know* 
ledg  of  Sounds.  But  whoever  had  taken 
him  to  improve  their  Voice,  or  teach  'em 
an  agreeable  or  jult  manner  of  Accent  or 
Delivery,  wou'd,  I  believe,  have  found 
themfelves  confiderably  deluded. 

*Tis  not  that  I  wou'd  condemn  as  ufe- 
lefs  this  fpeculative  Science  of  Articulation. 
It  has  its  place,  no  doubt,  among  the  other 
Sciences,  and  may  ferve  to  Grammar^  as 
Grammar  ferves  to  Rhetorick,  and  to  othec 
Arts  of  Speech  and  Writing.  The  Soli- 
dity of  Mathematicks,  and  its  Advantage 
to  Mankind,  is  prov'd  by  many  effects  in 
thofe  beneficial  Arts  and  Sciences  which 
depend  on  it :  tho  AJirologerSj  Horofco- 
perSy  and  other  fuch,  are  pleas'd  to  honour 
themfelves  with  the  Title  of  Mathema- 
ticians. As  for  MefaphyfickSy  and  that 
which  in  the  Schools  is  taught  for  Logick 
or  for  Ethicks ;  I  fhall  willingly  allow  it 
to  pafs  for  Philofophyy  when  by  any  real 
effe<fls  it  is  prov'd  capable  to  refine  our 
Spirits,  improve  our  Underftandings,  or 
mend  our  Manners.  But  if  the  defining 
material  and  immaterial  Siibjiances^  and  dif- 
tinguifhing  their  Propertys  and  Modes,  is 
recommended  to  us,  as  the  right  manner 
of  proceeding  in  the  Difeovery  of  our  own 
T  2  Na- 


290  Adyice  to  an  Authof; 

Part  3. Natures,  I  fhall  be  apt  to  fufpedt  fuch  a 
^"^V^^  Study  as   the  more  delufive  and  infatua- 
ting,  on  account  of  its  magnificent  Pre- 
tenfion.  •  r   " 

The   Study  of  Triangles  and  Circles 
interferes   not   with  the  Study   of  Minds. 
Nor  does  the  Student  in  the  mean  while 
fuppofe  himfelf  advancing  in  Wifdom,  or 
the   Knowledg    of  Himfelf  or  Manldnd. 
All  he  defires,  is  to  keep  his  Head  found, 
as  it  was  before.    And  well,  he  thinks  in- 
deed, he  has  come  oflF,  if  by  good  fortune 
there  be  no  Crack  made  in  it.     As  for  o- 
ther  Ability  or  Improvement  in  the  Know- 
ledg of  human  Nature  or  the  World ;  he 
refers  himfelf  to  other  Studys  and  Prac- 
tice.     Such    is    the  Mathematicians  Mo- 
defly  and  good  Senfe.     But  for  the  Philo^ 
fopher^  who  pretends  to  be  wholly  taken 
up  in  confidering  his  higher  Facultys,  and 
examining   the  Powers   and  Principles  of 
his  Underftanding ;  if  in  reality  his  Philo- 
fophy  be  foreign  to  the  Matter  profefs'd; 
if  it   goes  befide   the  mark,    and  reaches 
nothing    we    can   truly    call   our   Intereft 
or  Concern  ;    it  muft  be  fomewhat  worfe 
than   mere  Ignorance  or  Idiotifm.      The 
moft   ingenious  way  of  becoming  foolifli, 
is  by  a  Syjiem.     And  the  fureft  Method  to 
prevent   good  Senfe,    is   to  fet   up   fome- 
thing  in  the  room  of  it.     The  liker  any 
thing  is  to  Wifdom,  if  it  be  not  plainly 
„    X  the 


Advice  to  an  Author.  291 

the  thing  it-felf,  the  more  diredly  it  be-Sedt.  i, 
comes  its  oppofite.  v.^^V^-' 

One  wou'd  exped  it  of  thefe  Phyfto- 
logijls  and  Searchers  of  Modes  and  Sub- 
JianceSy  that  being  fo  exalted  in  their  Un- 
derftandings,  and  inrich'd  with  Science  a- 
bove  other  Men,  they  ftiou'd  be  as  much 
above  'em  in  their  Paffions  and  Sentiments. 
The  Confcioufnefs  of  being  admitted  into 
the  fecret  RecefTes  of  Nature,  and  the  in- 
ward Refources  of  a  human  Heart,  {hou'd, 
one  wou'd  think,  create  in  thefe  Gentle- 
men a  fort  of  Magnanimity,  which  might 
diftinguifh  'em  from  the  ordinary  Race  of 
Mortals.  But  if  their  pretended  Know- 
ledg  of  the  Machine  of  this  World,  and 
of  their  own  Frame,  is  able  to  produce 
nothing  beneficial  either  to  the  one  or  to 
the  other  ;  I  know  not  to  what  purpofe 
fuch  a  Philofophy  can  ferve,  except  only 
to  fhut  the  door  againft  better  Knowledg, 
and  introduce  Impertinence  and  Conceit 
with  the  beft  Countenance  of  Authority. 

'T I  s  hardly  pofiible  for  a  Student,  but 
more  efpecially  an  Author,  who  has  dealt 
in  Ideas,  and  treated  formally  of  the  Paf- 
Jions,  in  a  way  of  natural  Philofophy,  not 
to  imagine  himfelf  more  wife  on  this  ac- 
count, and  more  knowing  in  his  own 
Charader,  and  the  Genius,  of  Mankind. 
But  that  he  is  miftaken  in  his  Calculation, 
T  3  Ex- 


292  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3. Experience  generally  convinces  us  :  none 
^^^^''^^^  being  found  more  impotent  in  themfelves, 
of  lefs  command  over  their  Paffions,  lefs 
free  from  Superftition  and  vain  Fears,  or 
lefs  fafe  from  common  Impofture  and  Delu- 
fion,  than  the  noted  Head-pieces  of  this 
ilarap.  Nor  is  this  a  v^^onder.  The  Spe- 
culation in  a  manner  befpeaks  the  Pra(ftice, 
There  needs  no  formal  Dedudlion  to  make 
this  evident.  A  fmall  Help  from  our  fa- 
miliar Method  of  Soliloquy  may  ferve  turn : 
and  we  may  perhaps  decide  this  matter  in 
a  more  diverting  way  j  by  confronting  this 
fuper-fpeculative  Philofophy  with  a  more 
pradtical  fort,  which  relates  chiefly  to  out 
Acquaintance,  Friendjfhip,  and  good  Cor- 
refpondence  with  our-Jelves. 

O  N  this  account,  it  may  not  be  to  my 

P^eader's  difadvantage,  if  forgetting  him 
for  a-whilc,  I  apply  chiefly  to  my-felf; 
^nd,  as  occalion  offers^  aflTume  that  felf- 
converfant  PraBice^  which  I  have  pre- 
tended to  difclofe.  'Tis  hop'd  therefore, 
he  will  not  efl:eem  it  as  ill  Breeding,  if  I 
lofe  the  ufual  regard  to  his  Prefence.  And 
fliou'd  I  fall  infenfibly  into  one  of  the 
Paroxyfms  defcrib'd  j  and  as  in  a  fort 
of  Phrenzy,  enter  into  high  Expofl:ula- 
tion  with  my-felf ;  he  will  not  furely  be 
effended  with  the  free  Language,  or  even 
with,  ibft  Reproaches  he  hears  from  a 
,-■/■=  Id:.!':''.  Perfbn 


Advice  to  an  Author.  29; 

Perfon  who  only  makes  bold  with  whom  Sed:.  i. 
he  may.  v^vv^ 


IF  A  Paffenger  fhou'd  turn  by  chance 
into  a  Watchmaker's  Shop,  and  thinking 
to  inform  himfelf  concerning  Watches, 
fhou'd  inquire,  of  what  Metal,  or  what 
Matter,  each  Part  was  compos'd ;  what 
gave  the  Colours,  or  what  made  the 
Sounds;  without  examining  what  the  real 
Ufe  was  of  fuch  an  Inftrument ;  or  by 
what  Movements  its  Eiid  was  befl  attain'd, 
and  its  Perfection  acquir'd :  'tis  plain  that 
fuch  an  Examiner  as  this,  wou'd  come 
fhort  of  any  Underflanding  in  the  real  Na- 
ture of  the  Inftrument.  Shou'd  a  Philofo- 
pher,  after  the  fame  manner,  employing 
himfelf  in  the  Study  of  human  Nature, 
difcover  only,  what  Effedls  each  Paffion 
wrought  upon  the  Body ;  what  change  of 
AfpeCt  or  Feature  they  produc'd ;  and  in 
what  different  manner  they  affeded  the 
Limbs  and  Mufcles  j  this  might  pofTibly 
qualify  him  to  give  Advice  to  an  Anatomift 
or  a  Limner,  but  not  to  Mankind  or  to 
Himfelf:  Since  according  to  this  Survey  he 
confider'd  not  the  real  Operation  or  Energy 
of  his  Subjedl,  nor  contemplated  the  Man, 
as  real  Man,  and  as  a  human  Agent;  but 
as  a  Watch  or  common  Machine, 

T  4  **  The 


2p4  Advice  fo^w  Author. 

Part  3.  \ 

^^^V^^  "The  Paffion  of  Fear  (as  a  *  modern 
"  Philofopher  informs  me)  determines  the 
"  Spirits  to  the  Mufcles  of  the  Knees, 
"  which  are  inftantly  ready  to  perform 
"  their  Motion  j  by  taking  up  the  Legs 
"  with  incomparable  Celerity,  in  order  to 
*'  remove  the  Body  out  of  harm's  way." 

Excellent  Mechanifm!   But  whether 

the  knocking  together  of  the  Knees  be  any 
more  the  cowardly  Symptom  of  Flight, 
than  the  chattering  of  the  Teeth  is  the 
ftout  Symptom  of  Refiftance,  I  fhall  not 
take  upon  me  to  determine.  In  this  whole 
Subject  of  Inquiry  I  fhall  find  nothing  of 
the  leafl;  <Sr^-concernment.  And  I  may 
depend  upon  it,  that  by  the  moll  refin'd 
Speculation  of  this  kind,  I  fliall  neither 
learn  to  diminifli  my  Fears,  or  raife  my 
Courage.  This,  however,  I  may  be  af- 
fur'd  of,  that  'tis  the  Nature  of  Fear,  as 
well  as  of  other  Paffions,  to  have  its  In- 
creafe  and  Decreafe,  as  it  is  fed  by  Opinion, 
and  influenc'd  by  Cuflom  and  Practice. 

These  Paffions,  according  as  they 
have  the  Afcendency  in  me,  and  differ  in 
proportion  with  one  another,  affe<5t  my 
Charader,  and  make  me  different  with 
refped:  to   my-felf  and   others.      I   muff, 

•  Monfieur   D  e  s  Cartes,  in   his  Treatife  of  the 

Pa^Jons.    .  ,   ,  . 

there- 


Advice  to  an  Author.  295 

therefore,  of  neceffity  find  Redrefs  andSedt.  i. 
Improvement  in  this  cafe,  by  refledting  U^W^ 
juftly  on  the  manner  of  my  own  Mo- 
tion, as  guided  by  AffeSiions  which  depend 
fo  much  on  Apprehenfion  and  Conceit. 
By  examining  the  various  Turns,  In- 
fledtions,  Declenfions,  and  inward  Revolu- 
tions of  the  Pajjions,  I  muft  undoubtedly 
come  the  better  to  underftand  a  human 
Breaft,  and  judg  the  better  both  of  o- 
thers  and  my-felf,  'Tis  impoffible  to  make 
the  leafl  advancement  in  fuch  a  Study, 
without  acquiring  fome  Advantage,  from 
the  Regulation  and  Government  of  thoie 
Paflions,  on  which  the  Condudt  of  a  Life 
depends. 

For  inftance,  if  Superstition  be 
the  fort  of  Fear  which  moft  opprefles ;  'tis 
not  very  material  to  inquire,  on  this  occa- 
lion,  to  what  Parts  or  Diftridts  the  Blood 
or  Spirits  are  immediately  detach'd,  or 
where  they  are  made  to  rendevouz.  For 
this  no  more  imports  me  to  underfland, 
than  it  depends  on  me  to  regulate  or 
change.  But  when  the  Grounds  of  this 
fuperftitious  Fear  are  confider'd  to  be  from 
Opinion^  and  the  Subjedts  of  it  come  to 
be  thorowly  fearch'd  and  examin'd ;  the 
PafTion  it-felf  muft  neceflarily  diminifti,  as 
I  difcover  more  and  more  the  Impofture 
which  belongs  to  it. 

In 


1^6  Advice  /o  ^»  Author. 

Part  3. 

1/VN;  In  the  fame  manner,  if  Vanity  be 
from  Opinio?!,  and  I  confider  how  Vanity 
is  conceiv'd,  from  what  imaginary  Advan- 
tages, and  inconfiderable  Grounds;  if  I 
view  it  in  its  exceflive  height,  as  well  as  in 
its  contrary  depreffion ;  'tis  impoflible  I 
fhou'd  not  in  fome  meafure  be  reliev'd  of 
this  Diftemper. 

*  Laudis  amore  tumes  f    Sunt  certa  Pia-    \ 

cula 

Sunt  verba  &  voces  quibus  hunc  lenire 

dolorem 
ToJJis,  &  magnam  morbi  deponere  par^ 
tern.  k 

The  fame  muft  happen  in  refped  of 
Anger,   Ambition,    Love,    Dejire,    and  the    J 
other  Paflions  from  whence  I  frame  the 
different  Notion  I  have  of  Inter efi.     For 
as  thefe  Paflions  veer,   my  Intereft  veers, 
my  Steerage  varys ;  and  I  make  alternate- 
ly, now  this,   now  that,   to  be  my  Courfe    \ 
and  Harbour.     The  Man  in  Anger,  has  a    \ 
different  Happinefs  from  the  Man  in  Ldve. 
And  the  Man  lately  become  covetous,  has 
a   different   Notion    of  SatisfaBion    from 
what  he  had  before,  when  he  was  liberal. 
Even  the  Man  in  Humour,   has  another 
Thought  of  Interejl  and  Advantage  than 
the  Man  out  of  Humour,  or  in  the  leaft 

*  Hor.  Epijl.  1.  m,  1. 

diflurb'd. 


Advice  to  an  Author.  197 

difturb'd.  The  Examination,  therefore,  of  Se<3:.  l. 
my  Humours,  and  the  *  Inquiry  after  L/y^^ 
my  Paffions,  muft  necel&rily  draw  along 
with  it  the  Search  and  Scrutiny  of  my  0/z- 
nionSy  and  the  fincere  Confideration  of  my 
Scope  and  End,  And  thus  the  Study  of 
human  AffeBion  cannot  fail  of  leading  mc 
towards  the  Knowledg  of  human  Nature^ 
and  of  M  Y-s  E  L  F.    , 

This  is  the  Philofophy,  which,  by  Na- 
ture, has  the  Pre-eminence  above  all  other 
Science  or  Knowledg.  Nor  can  this  furely 
be  of  the  fort  call'd  "f*  vain  or  deceitful -, 
lince  it  is  the  only  means  by  which  I  can 
difcover  Vanity  and  Deceit.  This  is  not  of 
that  kind  which  depends  on  -f*  Genealogys 
or  Traditions^  and  -f*  minijlers  ^ejliom 
and  vain  Jangling,  It  has  not  its  Name, 
as  other  Philofophys,  from  the  mere  Sub- 
tlety and  Nicety  of  the  Speculation ;  but, 
by  way  of  Excellence,  from  its  being  fu- 
perior  to  all  other  Speculations  5  from  its 
prefiding  over  all  other  Sciences  and  Oc- 
cupations J  teaching  the  Meafure  of  each, 
and  affigning  the  juft  Value  of  every- 
thing in  Life.  By  this  Science  Religion 
it-felf  is  judg'd,  Spirits  are  fearch'd.  Pro- 
phecys  prov'd.  Miracles  diftinguifli'd :  the 
fole   Meafure   and    Standard   being   taken 

*  See  I N  qu  r  R  Y,  viz.  Treatife  IV.  of  thefe  Volumes. 
f  C  o  L  o  s  s.  Ch.  ii.  ver.  8.  T  i  r.  Ch.  iii.  ver.  9. 

I  T I M.  Ch.  i.  ver.  4,  &  6.  and  Ch.  vi.  ver,  20. 

from 


298  Advice  f^j  /t/i  Author: 

Part  3. from  moral  ReSfitude,  and  from  the  Dif^ 
^■^^V^  cernment  of  what  is  found  and  juft  in 
the  Affetflions.  For  if  the  *  T'ree  is  known 
only  by  its  Fruits  -,  my  firft  Endeavour 
muft  be  to  diftinguifli  the  true  Tafte  of 
Fruits,  refine  my  Palat,  and  eftablifh  a 
juft  Relifti  in  the  kind.  So  that  to  bid  me 
judg  Authority  by  Morals,  whilft  the  Rule 
of  Morals  is  fuppos'd  -f*  dependent  on  mere 
Authority  and  JVill -,  is  the  fame  in  reality 
as  to  bid  me  fee  with  my  Eyes  ftiut,  mea- 
fure  without  a  Standard,  and  count  with- 
out Arithmetick. 

An  d  thus  Philosophy,  which  judges 
both  of  her-felf,  and  of  every  thing  be- 
lides ;  difcovers  her  own  Province,  and 
chief  Command ;  teaches  me  to  diftin- 
guifli  between  her  Perfon  and  her  Like- 
nefs;  and  fhews  me  her  immediate  and 
real  felf,  by  that  fole  Privilege  of  teaching 
me  to  knorjj  my-felfy  and  what  belongs  to  me. 
She  gives  to  every  inferior  Science  its  juft 
rank ;  leaves  fome  to  meafure  Sounds  j 
others  to  fcan  Syllables-,  others  to  weigh 
Vacuums,  and  define  Spaces,  and  Exteji^ 
fions :  but  refer ves  to  her-felf  her  due  Au- 
thority, and  Majefty ;  keeps  her  State, 
and  antient  Title,  of  Fita  Dux,  Virtutis 
Indagatrix,  and  the  reft  of  thofe  juft  Ap- 

*  Luke,   Ch.  vi.  ver.  43,  44.  and  Mat.  Ch.  vii.  vcr. 
16.     See  VOL.  11.  /.  269,  334. 
f  Suprat  pag.  107. 

pellations 


Advice  to  an  Author.  ipp 

pellations  which  of  old  belong'd  to  herjSed:.  i. 
when  fhe  merited  to  be  apoftrophiz'd,  as^^^VNi 
fhe  was,  by  the  ^  Orator  :  "  Tu  Invefitrix 
"  Leguniy  tu  Magiftra  morum  &  difcipU- 
*'  nee,  *  *  *  EJi  autem  unus  dies  bene  & 
**  ex  praceptis  tuis  aSfus^  peccanti  immor" 
"  talitati  anteponendusy  Excellent  Mif^ 
trefs !  but  ealy  to  be  miftaken  1  whilft  fo 
many  Handmaids  wear  as  illuftrious  Appa- 
rel ;  and  fome  are  made  to  outfliine  her 
far,  in  Drefs,  and  Ornament. 

In  reality,  how  fpecious  a  Study,  how 
folemn  an  Amufement  is  rais'd  from  what 
we  call  Philofophical  Speculations !         ■  the 

Formation  of  Ideas! their  CompoJitionSy 

ComparifonSy  Agreement ^  and  Dijagrec?nent  I 

• -What  can  have  a  better  Appearance, 

or  bid  fairer  for  genuine  and  true  Philo- 
sophy? Come  on  then.  Let  me 
philofophize  in  this  manner;  if  this  be 
indeed  the  way  I  am  to  grow  wife.  Let  me 
examine  my  Ideas  of  Space  and  Subftance : 
Let  me  look,  well  into  Matter  and  its  Modes  ^ 
if  this  be  looking  into  M  y-s  e  l  f  ;  if  this 
be  to  improve  my  Underfanding,  and  en- 
large my  Mind.  For  of  this  I  may  foon 
be  fatisfy'd.  Let  me  obferve  therefore, 
with  diligence,  what  pafles  here  j  what 
Connexion  and  Confiftency,  what  Agree- 
ment or  Difagreement  I  find  within  : 
^J  Whether,  according  to  my  prefent  Ideas, 

*  Cicero,  Tu/c  %«/?.  //^.  j. 

"  that 


3 CO         Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3."  that  which  I  approve  this  Hour,  I  am 
^^^V^'  "  like  to  approve  as  well  the  next :  And 
"  in  cafe  it  be  otherwife  with  me ;  how  or 
**  after  what  manner,  I  (hall  relieve  my- 
"  ielf  5  how  a/certain  my  Ideas,  and  keep 
•*  my  Opinion,  Liking,  and  Efteem  of 
"  things,  the  fame.'*  If  this  remains  un- 
folv'd ;  if  I  am  ftill  the  fame  Myftery  to 
my-felf  as  ever :  to  what  purpofe  is  all  this 
reafoning  and  acutenefs  ?  Wherefore  do  I 
admire  my  Philofophcr,  or  iludy  to  be- 
come fuch  a  one,  my-felf? 

T  0-day  things  have  fucceeded  well  with 
me ;  confequently  my  Ideas  are  raised : 
"  "Tis  a  fine  World !  All  is  glorious ! 
"  Every  thing  delightful  and  entertaining  I 
"  Mankind,  Converfation,  Company,  So- 
**  ciety  J  What  can  be  more  defirable  ?'* 
To-morrma  comes  Difappointment,  Crofles, 
Difgrace.  And  what  follows  ?  "  O  mifera- 
"  ble  Mankind!  Wretched  State!  Who 
*'  wou'd  live  out  of  Solitude  ?  Who  wou'd 
"  write  or  aft  for  fuch  a  World?"  Phi- 
lofophcr !  where  are  thy  Ideas  ?  Where 
is  Truth,  Certainty,  Evidence,  fo  much 
talk'd  of?  'Tis  here  furely  they  are  to 
be  maintained,  if  any  where.  'Tis  here 
I  am  to  preferve  fome  ju/i  DiJlinBio'ns, 
and  adequate  Ideas ;  which  if  I  cannot  do 
a  jot  the  more,  by  what  fuch  a  Philo- 
fophy  can  teach  me,  the  Philofophy  is  in 
this  relped  impofing,  and  delufive.  For 
2  what- 


Advice  to  an  Authon  301 

whatever  its  other  Virtues  are;  it  relates Se(ft.  i.' 
not  to  Me  my-felf,  it  concerns  not  the  Man^  ^•VV^ 
nor  any  otherwife  afFedts  the  Mind  than 
by  the  conceit  of  Knowledg,  and  the  falfe 
Affurance  rais'd  •  from  a  fuppos'd  Im- 
provement- 
Ac  A  in.  What  are  my  Ideas  of 
the  JVorldy  of  Pleafure,  Riches,  Fame,  Life  ? 
What  Judgment  am  I  to  make  of  Man- 
kind and  human  Affairs?  What  Senti- 
ments am  I  to  frame  ?  What  Opinions  ? 
What  Maxims  ?  If  none  at  all ;  why  do 
I  concern  my-felf  in  Speculations  about 
my  Ideas  ?  What  is  it  to  me,  for  inftance, 
to  know  what  kind  of  Idea  I  can  form  of 
Space  ?  "  Divide  a  folid  Body  of  whatever 
"  Dimenfion,  (fays  a  renown'd  modern 
**  Philofopher :)  And  'twill  be  impoffible 
**  for  the  Parts  to  move  within  the  bounds 
"  of  its  Superficies  ;  if  there  be  not 
*'  left  in  it  *  a  void  Space,  as  big  as  the 
"  leaft  part  into  which  the  faid  Body  is 
*'  divided." 

Thus  the  Afomiji,  or  Epicurean,  plead- 
ing for  a  Vacuum.  The  Flenitudinarian^ 
on  the  other  fide,  brings  his  Fluid  in  play, 
and  joins  the  Idea  of  Body  and  Extenfion, 
"  Of  this,  fays  one,  I  have  clear  Ideas. 
"  Of  this,  %s  the  other,  I  can  be  certain, 

*  Tlj«fe  «re  the  Wocds  of  the.  particular  Author  cited. 

«  And 


302  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3."  And  what,  fay  I,  if  in  the  whole  matr 
\^^\r*^  "  ter  there  be  no  certainty  at  all  ?"  For 
Mathematicians  are  divided  :  and  Mecha- 
nicks  proceed  as  well  on  one  Hypothefis  as 
on  the  other.  My  Mindy  I  am  fatisfy'd, 
will  proceed  either  way  alike :  For  it  is 

concern'd  on  neither  fide. "  Philofo- 

^*  pherl  Let  me  hear  concerning  what  is 
"  of  fome  moment  to  me.  Let  me  hear 
*'  concerning  Life ;  what  the  right  Notion 
**  is ',  and  what  I  am  to  ftand  to,  upon  oc- 
*'  cafion  :  that  I  may  not,  when  Life  feems 
*'  retiring,  or  has  run  it-felf  out  to  the 
**  very  Dregs,  cry  Vanity !  condemn  the 
*'  World,  and  at  the  fame  time  complain, 
"  that  Life  is  Jhort  and  pdffng  I "  For 
why  fo  porty  indeed,  if  not  found  fweet^ 
Why  do  I  complain  both  ways  ?  Is  Vanity, 
mere  Vanity ^  z  Happinefs  ?  Or  can  Mifery 
pafs  away  too  foon  ? 

This  is  of  moment  to  me  to  examine. 
This  is  worth  my  while.  If,  on  the  other 
fide,  I  cannot  find  the  Agreement  or  Dif 
agreement  of  my  Ideas  in  this  place ;  if  I 
can  come  to  nothing  certain  here  j  what  is 
all  the  reft  to  me  ?  What  fignifys  it  how  I 
come  by  my  Ideas^  or  how  compound  'em ; 
which  are  fimple^  and  which  complex  ?  If 
I  have  a  right  Idea  of  Life,  now  when 
perhaps  I  think  flightly  of  it,  and  refolve 
with  my-felf,  "  That  it  may  eafily  be  laid 
"  down  on  any  honourable  occafion  of 
^    :    :.  "  Service 


Advice  to  an  Author.  joj 

"  Service  to  my  Friends,  or  Country  ;"  Se6t.  2, 
teach  me  how  I  may  preferve  this  Idea :  ^-y^n^ 
or,  at  leaft,  how  I  may  gee  fafely  rid  of  it  j 
that  it  may  trouble  me  no  more,  nor  lead 
me  into  ill  Adventures.  Teach  me  how  I 
came  by  fuch  an  Opinion  of  Worth  and 
Virtue  ;  what  it  is,  which  at  one  time  raifes 
it  fo  high,  and  at  another  time  reduces  it  to 
nothing  ;  how  thefe  Diflurbances  and  Fluc^ 
tuations  happen  ;  "  By  what  Innovation^ 
"  what  Compofition^  what  Litewention  of 
"  other  Ideas."  If  this  be  the  Subjecft  of 
the  Philojbpbical  Art;  I  readily  apply  to 
it,  and  embrace  the  Study.  If  there  be  no- 
thing of  this  in  the  Cafe ;  I  have  no  occa- 
fion  for  this  fort  of  Learning ;  and  am  no 
more  defirous  of  knowing  how  I  form  or 
compound  thofe  Ideas  which  are  mark'd  by 
Words,  than  I  am  of  knowing  how,  and  by 
what  Motions  of  my  Tongue  or  Palar,  I 
form  thofe  articulate  bounds,  which  I  can 
full  as  well  pronounce,  writhout  any  fuch 
Science  or  Speculation, 

SECT.    II. 

BU  T  here  it  may  be  convenient  for  me 
to  quit  my-felf  a-while,  in  favour  of 
my  Reader ;  left  if  he  prove  one  of  the 
uncourteous  fort,  he  fhou'd  raife  a  confide- 
rable  Objection  in  this  place.  He  may  afk 
perhaps,  **  Why  a  Writer  for  Self-enter-^ 
«*  tainment  fl:iou'd  not  keep  hi?  Writings 
Vol  I.  U  *■  tQ 


^04  Advice  ^0  ^w  Author. 

Part  3."  to  himfelf,  without  appearing  in  Publicity 
^i^'V^^  "  or  before  the  JVorW* 

I N  anfwer  to  this  I  (hall  only  fay,  that 
for  appearing  in  Publicky  or  before  the 
Worlds  I  do  not  readily  conceive  what  our 
worthy  Objedior  may  underftand  by  it. 
I  can  call  to  mind,  indeed,  among  my  Ac- 
quaintance, certain  Merchant-Adventurers 
in  the  Letter-Trade,  who  in  correfpon- 
dence  with  their  Fad:or-Bookfeller,  are  en- 
ter'd  into  a  notable  Commerce  with  the 
World.  They  have  dire(flly,  and  in  due 
Form  of  Preface,  and  Epijlle  Dedicatory, 
follicited  the  Publick,  and  made  Intereft 
with  Friends  for  Favour  and  Protection  on 
this  account.  They  have  ventur'd,  per- 
haps, to  join  fome  great  Man's  Reputation 
with  their  own  j  having  obtain'd  his  Per- 
miflion  to  addrefs  a  Work  to  him,  on  pre- 
fumption  of  its  pafiing  for  fomething  con- 
liderable  in  the  eyes  of  Mankind.  One  may 
eafily  imagine  that  fuch  patroniz'd  and  a- 
vow'd  Authors  as  thefe,  wou'd  be  fhreudly 
difappointed  if  the  Publick  took  no  notice 
of  their  Labours.  But  for  my  own  part, 
'tis  of  no  concern  to  me,  what  regard  the 
Publick  beftows  on  my  Amufements ;  or 
after  what  manner  it  comes  acquainted  with 
what  1  write  for  my  private  Entertainment, 
or  by  way  of  Advice  to  fuch  of  my  Ac- 
quaintance as  are  thus  defperately  embark'd. 


Advice  to  an  Author.  305 

Se6t,  2, 
'Tis  reqqifite,  that  my  Friends,  who^^Y^ 
perufe  thefe  Advices,  fhou'd  read  'em  in 
better  Charaders  than  thofe  of  my  own 
Hand-writing.  And  by  good  luck  I  have 
a  very  fair  Hand  ofFer'd,  which  may  fave 
me  the  trouble  of  re-copying,  and  can  rea- 
dily furnifh  me  with  as  many  handfom 
Copys  as  I  wou'd  defire,  for  my  own  and 
Friends  Service.  I  have  not,  indeed,  for- 
bid my  Amanue72jis  the  making  as  many  as 
he  pleafes  for  his  own  Benefit.  What  I 
write  is  not  worth  being  made  a  MyRery. 
And  if  it  be  worth  any  one's  purchafing; 
much  good  may  do  the  Purchafer.  'Tis  ^ 
'Traffick  I  have  no  {hare  in ;  tho  I  acciden- 
tally furnifh  the  Subjedt-matter. 

And  thus  am  I  no-wife  more  an  A  u- 
T  H  o  R,  for  being  in  Print.  I  am  con- 
feious  of  no  additional  Virtue,  or  dange- 
rous Quality,  from  having  lain  at  any 
time  under  the  weight  of  that  alpbabetick 
Engine  call'd  the  Prefs.  I  know  no  Conju- 
ration in  it,  either  with  refpedl  to  Church, 
or  State.  Nor  can  I  imagine  why  the 
Machine  fhou'd  appear  fp  formidable  to, 
Scholars,  and  renown'd  Clerks ;  whofe  ve.^ 
ry  Myftery  and  Foundation  depends  on 
the  Letter-Manufadure.  To  allow  Benefit 
of  Clergy,  and  to  rejirmn  the  Prefs,  feems 
to  me  to  have  fomething  of  Crofs-purpofg 
m  it.  J  can  hardly  thi^l^  th^t  tU  %<?- 
U  %  lity 


lo6 


Advice  to  an  Authof. 


Part  3.^(y  of.  what  is  written  can  be  alter'd  by 
^-^^V^-  tbe  Manj2er  of  Writing ;  or  that  there  can 
be  any  harm  in  a  quick  way  of  copying 
fair,  and  keeping  Copys  alike.  Why  a 
Man  may  not  be  permitted  to  write  \Vith 
Jrcn  as  well  as  ^«7/,  I  can't  conceive ;  or 
how  a  Writer  changes  his  Capacity,  by  this 
new  Drefs,  any  more  than  by  the  wear  of 
?/^oi;^-Stockins,  after  having  worn  no  other 
Manufadure  than  the  Knit, 


SO  MUCH  for  my  Reader-,  if  per- 
chance I  have  any  befides  the  Friend  or 
two  above-mention'd.  For  being  engag'd 
in  Morals,  and  induc'd  to  treat  fo  rigorous 
a  Subject  as  that  of  Self-examination ;  I 
naturally  call  to  mind  the  extreme  Delica- 
cy and  Tendernefs  of  modern  Appetites, 
in  refped  of  the  Philofophy  of  this  kind. 
What  Diflafte  pofTibly  may  have  arifen 
from  fome  medicinal  Dofcs  of  a  like  na- 
ture, adminifter'd  to  raw  Stomachs,  at  a 
very  early  Age,  I  will  not  pretend  to  exa- 
mine. But  whatever  Manner  in  Philofo- 
phy happens  to  bear  the  leaft  refemblance 
to  that  of  Catechifm,  cannot,  I'm  perfua- 
ded,  of  it-felf,  prove  very  inviting.  Such 
a  fmart  way  of  queflioning  our-felves  in 
our  Youth,  has  made  our  Manhood  more 
averfe  to  the  expoftulatory  Difcipline. 
And  tho  the  metaphyfical  Points  of  our 
Belief  are  by  this  method,  with  admirable 
I      '  Care 


Advice  to  an  Author.  307 

Care    and    Caution,    inftill'd    into    tender  Sed.  2. 
Minds  ;  yet  the  manner  of  this  anticipa-  ^-''v^.^ 
ting  Philofophy,  may  make  the  After- work 
of  Reafon,  and  the  inward  Exercife  of  the 
Mind,  at  a  riper  Age,  proceed   the  more 
heavily,  and  with  greater  reludance. 

It  muft  needs  be  a  hard  Cafe  with  us, 
after  having  pafs'd  fo  learned  a  Childhood, 
and  been  inftrufted  in  our  own  and  other 
higher  Natures^  E[fences,  incorporeal  Sub- 
fiances^  Perfonalitys^  and  the  like  ;  to  con- 
defcend  at  riper  Years  to  ruminate  and 
con  over  this  LelTon  a  fecond  time.  'Tis 
hard,  after  having,  by  fo  many  pertinent 
Interrogatorys,  and  decifive  Sentences,  de- 
clar'd  JVho  and  PVhat  we  arc  ;  to  come 
leifurely,  in  another  view,  to  inquire  con- 
cerning our  real  Self,  and  End,  the 
"Judgment  we  are  to  make  of  Interest, 
and  the  Opinion  we  fioud  have  of  Ad- 
vantage and  Good:  which  is  what 
mufl  neceilarily  determine  us  in  our  Con- 
duct, and  prove  the  leading  Principle  of 
our  Lives, 

Can  we  bear  looking  a-new  into  thelc 
Myfterys  ?  Can  we  endure  a  nev/  School- 
ingj  after  having  once  learnt  our  Leflbn 
from  the  Worlds  Hardly,    I  prefume. 

For  by  the  Leflbn  of  this  latter  School,  and 
according  to  the  Senfe  I  acquire  in  Con- 
verfe  with  prime  Men ;  fhou'd  I  at  any  time 
U  3  alk 


^o8  AYyy it t  td  an  Author. 

Part  3.aflc  my-felf,  PFhdf  gdvern'd  me^     I  fhou'd 
*>^Wanfwer    readily,    My  Intereft.  "  But 

"  what  is  Intereji  f  And  how  governed  ? 
**       By  Opinion  and  Fancy.  Is  every 

*'  thing  therefore  my  Intereft  which  I  fan- 
'*  fy  fuch  ?  Or  may  my  Fancy  poffibly  be 
**  wrong  ?  It  mayr  If  my  Fan- 

**  cy  of  Intereft  therefore  be  wrong ;  can 
*'  liiy  Purfuit   or  Aim   be   right  ? 
*^*  Hardly  fo.  Can  I  then  be  fuppos*d 

**  to  hit,  when  I  knbw  nor,  in  reality,  fo 
"  much  as  how  to  aim  T* 

My  chief  Intereft,  it  feems  therefore, 
muft  be  to  get  an  Aim ;  and  know  certain- 
ly where  my  Happinefs  and  Advantage 
lies.  "  Where  elfe  can  it  lie,  than  in 

**  my  Pleafure  j  fince  my  Advantage  and 
"  Good  muft  ever  be  pkafing :  and  what  is 
"  pleajing^  can  never  be  other  than  my 
"  Advantage  and  Good  ?  Excellent ! 

"  Let  Taney  therefore  govern,  and  Intereft 
"  be  what  'nsoe  pkafe.  For  if  that  which 
*'  plc/jfcs  tis  be  our  Good,  *  becaufe  it 
*'  pleafes  us  j  any-thing  may  be  our  I  n  t  e- 
"  REST  or  Good.  Nothing  can  come 
*^'  amifs.  That  which  we  fohdly  make  our 
"  Happinefs  at  one  time,  we  may  as  rea^ 
**  dily  un-make  at  another.  No-one  can 
"  I'earn  what  feaiQ<io'D  is.  Nor  can  any- 
*'*  one  upon  this  foot  be  faid  to  underftand 
"  his  Interest." 

*  VOL.  II.  /.  227.  and  VOL.  Ill  p.  200. 

Here, 


Advice  to  an  Author.  309 

Sea.  2. 
Here,  we  fee,  are  ft  range  Embroils !  U^VNJ 
- — ' — But  let  us  try  to  deal  more  candidly 
with  our-felves,  and  frankly  own  that 
*  Pleafure  is  no  rule  of  G  o  o  d  j  (ince 
when  we  follow  'Pleafure  merely,  we  are 
difgufted,  and  change  from  one  fort  to  ano- 
ther :  condemning  that  at  one  time,  which 
at  another  we  earneftly  approve  3  ^nd  ne- 
ver judging  equally  of  Happinefs,  whilft  we 
follow  Pajjion  and  mere  Humour. 

A  Lover,  for  inftance,  when  ftruck 
with  the  Idea  or  Fancy  of  his  Enjoyment, 
promifes  himfelf  the  higheft  Felicity,  if  he 

fucceeds  in  his  new  Amour. He  fucceeds 

in  it ;  finds  not  the  Felicity  he  expeded  : 
but  promifes  himfelf  the  fame  again  in  fame 

other. The  fame  thing  happens :  He  is 

difappointed  as  before  j  but  ftill  has  Faith. 
— Weary'd  with  this  Game,  he  quits  the 
Chace ;  renounces  the  way  of  Courtfhip 
and  Intrigue,  and  detefts  the  Ceremony  and 
Difficulty  of  the  Pleafure. A  new  Spe- 
cies of  Amours  invites  him.  Here  too  he 
meets  the  fame  Inquietude  and  Inconftancy. 
Scorning  to  grow  fottifh,  and  plunge 
in  the  loweft  Sink  of  Vice,  he  fliakes  off  his 
Intemperance  J  defpifes  Gluttony  and  Riot  \ 
and  hearkens  to  Ambition.  He  grows  a 
Man  of  Bufinefs,  and  feeks  Authority  and 
Fame. — — 

*  Infra,  p.  339. 

U  4  ^0 


J 10  Advice  to  an  Author. 

J^art  3» 

W'VNi  *  ^0  teneam  vultus  mutant  em  P  r  o  T  E  A 
nodo  f 

Lest  this  therefore  fliQu'd  136  my  own 
cafe  5  let  me  fee  whether  I  can  controul 
my  Fancy^  and  fix  it,  if  pofTible,  on  fome- 

thing  which  may  hold  good. When   I 

exercife  my  Reafon  in  moral  Subje(5ls  j 
when  I"  employ  my  Affed:ion  in  friendly 
and  jocial  Anions,  I  find  I  can  fincerely 
enjoy  my-felf.  If  there  be  a  Pleafure  there- 
fore of  this  kind ;  why  not  indulge  it  ? 
Or  what  harm  wou'd  there  be,  fuppofmg 
it  {hou'd  grow  greater  by  Indulgence  ? 
If  I  am  lazyy  and  indulge  my-felf  in  the 
languid  Pleafure  j  I  know  the  harm,  and 
can  forefee  the  Drone,  If  I  am  luxu*- 
rious,  I  know  the  harm  of  this  alfo,  and 
have  the  plain  profped:  of  the  Sot,  If 
Avarice  be  my  Pleafure  j  the  End,  t 
know,  is  being  a  Mtfer.  But  if  Ho*• 
N  e  s  t  y  be  my  Delight,  1  know  no  o- 
ther  confequence  from  indulging  fuch  a 
iPaffion,  than  that  of  growing  better  na* 
turd,  and  enjoying  more  and  more  the  Flea- 
Jures  of  Society.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
this  honefl  Pleafure  be  loft,  by  knavifh 
indulgence,  and  Immorality,  there  can 
hardly  be  a  Satisfaction  left  of  any  kind; 
fince  Good*nature  and  -f-  focial  AfFedio^ 

•  Hor.  Epyi.  I.  lih.  I.         t  VOL.  II.  /.  127.      ^ 

are 


Advice  to  an  Author.  311 

are  fo  eflential  even  to  the  Pleafures  of  a  Sed.  3^ 
Debauck  o^'VX^ 

If  therefore  the  only  Pleafure  I  can 
jfreely  and  without  referve  indulge,  be  that 
of  the  honeji  and  moral  kind  j  if  the  ra* 
tional  and  focial  Enjoyment  be  fo  conftant 
in  it-felf,  and  fo  effential  to  Happinefs ; 
why  fhou'd  I  not  bring  my  other  Pleafures 
to  correfpond  and  be  Friends  with  it,  ra- 
ther than  raife  my-felf  other  Pleafures, 
which  are  deftrudtive  of  this  Foundation, 
and  have  no  manner  of  Correlpondency 
with  one  another  ? 

Upon  this  bottom  let  me  try  how  I 
can  bear  the  AfTault  of  Fancy,  and 
maintain  my-felf  in  my  moral  Fortrefs,  a- 
gainft  the  Attacks  which  are  rais'd  on  the 
lide  of  corrupt  Inter  eft  and  a  wrong  Self. 
When  the  Idea  of  Pleafure  ftrikes,  I  afk 
my-felf:  "  Before  I  was  thus  flruck  by 
"  the  Idea,  was  any  thing  amifs  with 
*'  me  ?  No.         Therefore  remove  the 

"  Idea,  and  I  am  well.  But  having  this 
**  Idea  fuch  as  I  now  have,  I  cannot^ant 
**  the   Thing,    without   regret.  See, 

"  therefore,  which  is  beft :  either  to  fuf- 
**  fer  under  this  Want,  till  the  Idea  be  re- 
'*  mov'd ;  or  by  fatisfying  the  Want,  con- 
"  firm  not  only  this  Idea,  but  all  of  the 
l'^  fame  flamp  ! " 

In 


jt2  Advice  tb  an  Author. 

part  3. 

U^VSJ  In  reality,  has  not  ^^ry  Fancy  alike 
Privilege  of  paffing ;  if  afiy  Jingle  one  be 
admitted  upon  its  own  Authority  ?  And 
what  muft  be  the  IfTue  of  fuch  an  OEcono- 
my,  if  the  whole  fantaftick  Crew  be  intro- 
duc'd,  and  the  Door  refus'd  to  none  ?  What 
elfe  is  it  than  this  Management  which  leads 
to  the  moft  difTolute  and  profligate  of  Cha- 
racters ?  What  is  it,  on  the  contrary, 
which  raifes  us  to  any  degree  of  Worth  or 
Steddinefs,  befides  a  dire&  contrary  Prac- 
tice and  Condud:  ?  Can  there  be  Strength 
of  Mind  y  can  there  be  Command  over  one's 
felf'.  If  the  Ideas  of  Pleafure,  the  Suggef- 
tions  of  Fancy,  and  the  flrong  Pleadings  of 
Appetite  and  Defire  are  not  often  witli- 
ftood,  and  the  Imaginations  foundly  repri- 
manded, and  brought  under  fubjedtion  ? 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  Method  of 
examining  our  Ideas  is  no  pedantick  Prac- 
tice. Nor  is  there  any  thing  un-galante 
in  the  manner  of  thus  queftioning  the  Lady» 
Fancys,  which  prefent  themfelves  as  char- 
mingly drefs'd  as  pollible  to  foUicit  their 
Caufe,  and  obtain  a  Judgment,  by  favour 
of  that  worfe  Part,  and  corrupt  Self,  to 
whom  they  make  their  Application. 

It  may  be  juftly  faid  of  thefe,  that 
they  are  very  powerful  Sollicitrejfes.  They 
never  feem  to  importune  us ;  tho  they  are 

ever 


Advice  to  an  Author,  3 1  j 

isver  in  our  eye,  and  meet  us  which-ever  Se<ft.  2. 
way  we  turn.  They  underftand  better  (•"V'VJ 
how  to  manage  their  Appearance,  than  by 
always  throwing  up  their  Veil,  and  {hew* 
ing  their  Faces  openly  in  a  broad  Light, 
to  run  the  danger  of  cloying  our  Sight, 
or  expofing  their  Features  to  a  ftridl  Ex- 
amination. So  far  are  they  from  fuch 
forwardnefs,  that  they  often  ftand  as  at  a 
diftance  j  fuffering  us  to  make  the  firft  ad- 
vance, and  contenting  themfelves  with  dis- 
covering a  Side-face,  or  beftowing  now 
and  then  a  glance  in  a  myfterious  manner, 
as  if  they  endeavour'd  to  conceal  their 
Perfons. 

One  of  the  moft  dangerous  of  theie 
^nchantrejjes  appears  in  a  fort  of  difmal 
Weed,  with  the  moft  mournful  Counte- 
nance imaginable  ;  often  cafting  up  her 
Eyes,  and  wringing  her  Hands  j  fo  that 
'tis  impoffible  not  to  be  mov'd  by  her,  till 
her  Meaning  be  confider'd,  and  her  Im- 
pofture  fully  known.  The  Airs  fhe  bor- 
rows, are  from  the  tragick  Mufe  Mel- 
pomene. Nor  is  {he  in  her  own  Perfon 
any  way  amiable  or  attractive.  Far  from 
it.  Her  Art  is  to  render  her-felf  as  for- 
bidding as  poffible  ;  that  her  Sifters  may 
by  her  means  be  the  more  alluring.  And 
if  by  her  tragick  Afped,  and  melancholy 
Looks,  fhe  can  perfuade  us  that  Death 
(whom  fhe  reprefents)    is  fuch  a  hideous 

Form  J 


314  Ady ICE  to  an  Author. 

Part  3. Form ;  fhe  conquers  in  behalf  of  the  whole 
V/VV  fantaftick  Tribe  of  wanton,  gay,  and  fond 
Defires.  Effeminacy  and  Cowardice  in- 
ftantly  prevail.  The  pooreft  Means  of  Life 
grow  in  repute,  when  the  En^s  and  juji 
Conditions  of  it  are  fo  little  known,  and 
the  Dread  of  parting  with  it,  rais'd  to  fo 
high  a  degree.  The  more  eagerly  we  grafp 
at  Lifey  the  more  impotent  we  are  in  the 
Enjoyment  of  it.  By  this  Avidity,  its  ve- 
ry Lees  and  Dregs  are  fwallow'd.  The 
Ideas  of  fordid  Pleafure  are  advanc'd. 
Worth,  Manhood,  Generofity,  and  all  the 
nobler  Opinions  and  Sentiments  of  bone/i 
Good,  and  virtuous  Pleafure^  difappear, 
and  fly  before  this  ^leen  of  T'errors. 

'T I  s  a  mighty  Delight  which  a  fort  of 
Counter-Philofophers  take  in  feconding  this 
P  bant  only  and  playing  her  upon  our  Un- 
derftandings,  whenever  they  wou'd  take  oc- 
cafion  to  confound  em.  The  vicious  Poets 
employ  this  SpeBer  too  on  their  fide ;  tho 
after  a  different  manner.  By  the  help  of 
this  tragick  Adrefs,  they  gain  a  fairer  Au- 
dience for  the  luxurious  Fancys;  and  give 
their  Erato's,  and  other  playfom  Mufes 
a  fuller  Scope  in  the  fupport  of  Riot  and 
Debauch.  The  gloomy  Profped:  of  Death 
becomes  the  Incentive  to  Pleafures  of  the 
lowefl  Order.  AJhes  and  Shade^  the  T'omb 
and  CypreJ'sy  are  made  to  ferve  as  Foils  to 
Luxury,     The  Abhorrence  of  an  infenfible 

State 


Advice  to  an  Author.  jij 

State  makes  mere  Vitality  and  Animal-Sen-  Se<ft.  2, 
fation  highly  cherifh'd.  L^y^^ 

*  Indulge  Genio :   carpamus  dulcia,  noHrum 

'fi. .     . . 

^od  vhts :   Ctnis,  &  Manes,  &  Fabula 
fes, 

'Tis  no  wonder  if  Luxury  profits  by  the 
Deformity  of  this  Spe6ter-Opinion.  She 
fupports  her  Intereft  by  this  childifli  Bug- 
bear ;  and,  like  a  Mother  by  her  Infant,  is 
hugg'd  fo  much  the  clofer  by  her  Votary, 
as  the  Fear  prefles  him,  and  grows  impor- 
tunate. She  invites  him  to  live  faji,  ac- 
cording to  her  befl  meafure  of  Life.  And 
well  fhe  may.  Who  wou'd  not  willingly 
make  Life  pafs  away  as  quickly  as  was  pof- 
fible  J  when  the  nobler  Pleafures  of  it  were 
already  loft  or  corrupted  by  a  wretched 
Fear  of  Death  ?  The  intenfe  Selfiflinefs 
and  Meannefs  which  accompanys  this  Fear, 
muft  reduce  us  to  a  low  ebb  of  Enjoyment ; 
and  in  a  manner  bring  to  nothing  that  main 
Sum  of  fatisfadtory  Senfations,  by  which 
we  vulgarly  rate  the  Happinefs  of  our  pri- 
vate Condition  and  Fortune. 

But  fee !  A  lovely  Form  advances  to 
our  Affiftance,  introduc'd  by  the  prime 
Muje,  the  beauteous  Calliope  !  She 
ihews  us  what  real  Beauty  is,  and  what  thofe 

*  Pcrf.  Sat.  5. 

Numbers 


^\6 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


Part  '^.Numbers  are,  which  make  Life  perfed:,  and 
bO^V)  beflow  the  chief  Enjoyment.  She  fets  Virtue 
before  our  Eyes,  and  teaches  us  how  to  rate 
Life^  from  the  Experience  of  the  moft  he- 
roick  Spirits.  She  brings  her  Sifters  Clio 
and  Urania  to  fupport  her.  From  the 
former  (he  borrows  whatever  is  memorable 
in  Hiftory,  and  antient  Time,  to  confront 
the  tragick  Spedler,  and  ftiew  the  fix'd  Con*  j 
tempt  which  the  happieft  and  freeft  Nations, 
as  well  as  fmgle  Heroes,  and  private  Men 
worthy  of  any  Note,  have  ever  exprefs'd 
for  that  Impoftrefs.  From  the  latter  fhe 
borrows  what  is  fublimeft  in  Philofophy,  to 
explain  the  Laws  of  Nature,  the  Order  of 
the  Univerfe,  and  reprefent  to  us  the  Juftiee 
of  accompanying  this  amiable  Adminiftra- 
tion.  She  fhews  us,  that  by  this  juft  Com- 
pliance we  are  made  happieft :  and  that  the 
meafure  of  a  happy  Life  is  not  from  the 
fewer  or  more  Suns  we  behold,  the  fewer 
or  more  Breaths  we  draw,  or  Meals  we  re-- 
peat ;  but  from  the  having  once  livd  well, 
adted  our  Part  handfomly,  and  made  our 
Exit  chearfully,  and  as  became  us. 

Thus  we  retain  on  Virtue's  fide  the 
nobleft  Party  of  the  Mufes.  Whatever  is 
auguft  amongft  thofe  Sifters,  appears  readily 
in  our  behalf.  Nor  are  the  more  jocund 
Ladys  wanting  in  their  Afliftance,  when 
they  a(3:  in  the  Perfedion  of  their  Art, 
and  infpire  fome  better  Genius's  in  this  kind 

of 


Advice  to  an  Author.  317 

of  Poetry.  Such  were  the  nobler  LyrkksySe^.  2. 
and  thofe  of  the  latter ^  and  more  refind^^^\r*^ 
Comedy  of  the  Antients.  The  T  h  a  l  i  a's, 
the  Polyhymnia's,  the  Terpsy- 
c  H  o  R  e's,  the  E  u  T  E  R  P^'s  wiUingly  join 
their  Parts  5  and  being  alike  interefted  in 
the  Caufe  of  Numbers^  are  with  regret  em- 
ploy'd  another  way,  in  favour  of  Diforder. 
Inftead  of  being  made  Syrens  to  ferve  the 
Purpofes  of  Vice,  they  wou'd  with  more 
delight  accompany  their  elder  Sifters,  and 
add  their  Graces  and  attradtive  Charms  to 
what  is  moft  harmonious,  Mufe-like,  and 
Divine  in  human  Life.  There  is  this  diffe- 
rence only  between  thefe  and  the  more 
heroick  Dames ;  that  they  can  more  eafily 
be  perverted,  and  take  the  vicious  Form. 
For  what  Perfon  of  any  Genius  or  mafterly 
Command  in  the  poetick  Art,  cou'd  think 
of  bringing  the  Epick  or  Tragick  Mufe  to 
adt  the  Pandar,  or  be  fubfervient  to  Effe- 
minacy and  Cowardice  ?  'Tis  not  againfl 
Death,  Hazards  or  Toils,  that  Tragedy  and 
the  heroick  Fable  are  pointed.  'Tis  not 
mere  Life  which  is  here  exalted,  or  has  its 
Price  enhanc'd.  On  the  contrary,  its  Cala- 
mitys  are  expos'd :  the  Diforders  of  the 
PalTions  fet  to  view :  Fortitude  recommend- 
ed :  Honour  advanc'd :  the  Contempt  of 
Death  plac'd  as  the  peculiar  Note  of  every 
generous  and  happy  Soul ;  and  the  tena- 
cious Love  of  Life,  as  the  trueft  Character 
of  an  abjedt  Wretch. 

Ufque 


^t8  Kby ICE  to  an  Authof, 

Part  3. 

v^V">-^      *  Ufque  adeone  mori  miferum  eft  f — 


'T I  s  not  to  be  imagin'd  how  eafily  W6 
deal  with  the  deluding  Apparitions  and  falfe 
Ideas  of  Happinefs  and  Good  -,  when  this 
frightful  Spedier  of  Mifery  and  111,  is  after 
this  manner  well  laid,  and  by  honeft  Ma* 
gick  conjur'd  down ;  fo  as  not  to  give  the 
lead  afliftance  to  the  other  tempting  Forms, 
This  is  that  occult  Science,  or  fort  of  Coun- 
t^x-Necromancyy  which  inilead  of  Ghaft- 
linefs  and  Horror,  infpires  only  what  is 
gentle  and  humane,  and  difpels  the  impo- 
iing  Phantoms  of  every  kind.  He  may 
pafs,  undoubtedly,  for  no  mean  Conjurer , 

who  can  deal  with  Spirits  of  this  fort. 

But  hold! — Let  us  try  the  Experiment 
in  due  form,  and  draw  the  magick  Circle. 
Let  us  obferve  how  the  inferior  Imps  ap- 
pear ;  when  the  Head-GoM«  is  fecurely 
laid! 

See!  The  Enchantrefs  Indolence 
prefents  her-felf,  in  all  the  Pomp  of  Eafe 
and  lazy  Luxury.  She  promifes  the 
fweeteft  Life,  and  invites  us  to  her  Pil- 
low :  injoins  us  to  expofe  our-felves  to 
no  adventurous  Attempt ;  and  forbids  us 
any  Engagement  which  may  bring  us  into 
-Adion.         *^  Where,  then,  are  the  Pl^jn* 

♦  virg  iEneid.  Lib.  12. 

^••r'  '  "  lures 


«t 


Advice  to  an  Author.  3 1 9 

fures  which,  ^m  If  if  ion  promifes,  and  LoveSed:.  2. 
*'  affords  ?     How   is   the  gay  World  en-  L/^VNJ 
"  joy'd  ?    Or  are  thofe  to  be  efteem'd  ?w 
*'  PleafureSj    which    are    loft    by    Dulnefs 
**  and  Inacfbion  ?  But  Indolence  is  the 

"  higheft  Pleafure.  To  live,  and  not  to 

«  feel !  To  feel  no  Trouble.         What 

"  Good  then  ?  Life  it-felf  And  is 

*'  this  properly  to  live  ?  Is  fleeping,  Life  ? 
*'  Is    this   what   I   (hou'd    ftudy    to    pro- 

"  long  ? "    Here  the  fantafiick  Tribe 

it-felf  feems  fcandaliz'd.  A  Civil  War  be- 
gins. The  major  part  of  the  capricious 
Dames  range  themfelves  on  Reafons  lide, 
'and  declare  againft  the  languid  Syren. 
Ambition  blufhes  at  the  offer'd  Sweet. 
X^onceit  and  Vanity  take  fuperior  Airs. 
Even  Luxury  her-felf,  in  her  polite  and 
elegant  Humour,  reproves  the  Apoftate- 
Sifter,  and  marks   her  as  an  Alien  to  true 

Pleafure "  Away,  thou  droufy  Phan- 

"  torn  !  Haunt  me  no  more.  For  I  have 
**  learn'd  from  better  than  thy  Sifterhood, 
**  that  Life  and  Happinefs  confift  in  ABion 

and  Employment^ 


it 


But  here  a  bufy  Form  folliclts  us; 
active,  induftrious,  watchful,  and  defpi- 
fing  Pains  and  Labour.  She  wears  the 
ferious  Countenance  of  Virtue,  but  with 
Features  of  Anxiety  and  Difquiet.  What 
is  it  (he  mutters?  What  looks  (he  on, 
with  fuch  Admiration  and  Aftonifhment  ? 

Vol.  I.  X  Bags  I 


Advice  to  an  Author. 

Bags !  Coffers !  Heaps  of  fhining  Me- 
"  What !  for  the  Service  of  Lux- 
For  her  thefe  Preparations  ?  Art 
thou  then  her  Friend  (grave  Fancy !)  is 
"  it  for  her  thou  toil'fl  ?  No,  but  for 
"  Provilion  againft  Want.  But,  Luxury 
"  apart,  tell  me  now,  haft  thou  not  al- 
"  ready  a  Competence?  'Tis  good  to 
"  be  fecure  againft  the  fear  of  Starving. 
"  Is  there  then  no  Death  befide  this  ? 
"  No  other  Paffage  out  of  Life  ?  Are 
"  other  Doors  fecur'd,  if  this  be  barr'd? 
"  Say,  Avarice!  ( thou  emptieft  of 
"  Phantoms)  is  it  not  vile  Cowardice  thou 
"  ferv'ft  ?  What  further  have  I  then  to  do 
"  with  thee  (thou  doubly  vile  Dependent !) 
"  when  once  I  have  difmifs'd  thy  Patronefs, 
"  and  defpis'd  her  Threats  ? " 

Thus  I  contend  with  Fancy  and 
*  Opinion;  and  fearch  the  Mint  and 
Foundery  of  Imagination.  For  here  the  Ap- 
petites and  Defires  are  fabricated.  Hence 
they  derive  their  Privilege  and  Currency. 
If  I  can  ftop  the  Mifchief  here,  and  pre- 
vent falfe  Coinage  ;  I  am  fafe.  "  Idea  ! 
"  wait  a-while  till  I  have  examin'd  thee, 
*'  whence  thou  art,  and  to  whom  thou 
"  retain'ft.  Art  thou  of  Ambition's  Train  ? 
"  Or  doft  thou  promife  only  Pleafuret 
"  Say!    what  am  I  to  facrifice   for   thy 

*  VOL.  III.  p.  198,199,  &c. 

''  fake  ? 


Advice  to  an  Author.  311 

««  fake  ?     What  Honour  ?    What  Truth  ?  Sed:.  2. 

**  What    Manhood  ? .  What   Bribe   is  U-'VNJ 

"  it  thou  bring'ft  along  with  thee  ?  De- 
**  fcribe  the  flattering  Objed:j  but  with-. 
"  out  Flattery  ;  plain,  as  the  thing  is  j 
"  without  addition,  without  fparing  or  re- 
"  ferve.  Is  it  Wealth  ?  is  it  a  Report  ?  a 
"  T'itle?  or  a  Female?  Come  not  in  a 
"  Troop,  (ye  Fancys !)  Bring  not  your 
"  Objeds  crouding,  to  confound  the  Sight. 
**  But  let  me  examine  your  Worth  and 
**  Weight  diftindly.  Think  not  to  raife 
*'  accumulative  Happinefs.  For  if  feparate- 
*'  ly,  you  contribute  nothing  j  in  conjunc- 
"  tion,  you  can  only  amufe." 


Whilst  i  am  thus  penning  a  Soli- 
loquy in  form,  I  can't  forbear  refleding  on 
my  Work.  And  when  I  view  the  Man- 
ner of  it  with  a  familiar  Eye ;  I  am  rea- 
dier, I  find,  to  make  my-felf  Diverfion 
on  this  occafion,  than  to  fuppofe  I  am 
in  good  earneft  about  a  Work  of  confe- 
quence.  "  What !   Am  I  to  be  thus 

"  fantaftical  ?  Muft  I  bufy  my-felf  with 
"  Phantoms  ?  fight  with  Apparitions  and 
"  Chimeras  ?  For  certain  i    Or  the 

"  Chimeras  will  be  before-hand  with  me, 
*'  and  bufy  themfelves  fo  as  to  get  the  bet- 
"  ter  of  my  Underftanding.  What ! 

"  Talk  to  my-felf  like  fome  Madman,  in 
**  different   Perfons,    and   under    different 
X  2  "  Cha- 


pi  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3."  Charadlers?  Undoubtedly:   or 'twill 

^-O^^-'  "  be  foon  feen  who  is  a  real  Madman,  and 

"  changes  Chara£ier   in   earneft,    without 

"  knowing  how  to  help  it." 

This  indeed  is  but  too  certain  ;  That 
as  long  as  we  enjoy  a  M  i  n  b,  as  long  as 
we  have  Appetites  and  Senfe,  the  Fancys  of 
all  kinds  will  be  hard  at  work ;  and  whe- 
ther we  are  in  company,  or  alone,  they 
muft  range  flill,  and  be  a<5tive.  They  mufl 
have  their  Field.  The  Queftion  is,  Whe- 
ther they  fliall  have  it  wholly  to  them- 
felves ;  or  whether  they  {hall  acknowledg 
fome  Controuler  or  Manager.  If  none  ;  'tis 
this,  I  fear,  which  leads  to  Madnefs.  'Tis 
this,  and  nothing  elfe,  which  can  be  call'd 
Madnefs,  or  hojs  of  Reafon.  For  if  Fa  n  c  y 
be  left  Judg  of  any  thing,  fhe  muft  be 
Judg  of  all.  E very-thing  is  right,  if  any- 
thing be  fo,  becaufe  I  fanfy  it,  "  The 
"  Houfe  turns  round.  The  Profpedl  ttirns. 
"  No,  but  my  Head  turns  indeed:  I 
**  have  a  Giddinefs ;  that's  all.  Fancy 
"  wou'd  perfuade  me  thus  and  thus :  but 
**  1  know  better."  'Tis  by  means 

therefore  of  a  Controuler  and  Corrector  of 
Fancy,  that  I  am  fav'd  from  being  mad. 
Otherwife,  'tis  the  Houfe  turns,  when  I 
am  giddy.  'Tis  'things  which  change  (for 
fo  I  mufl  fuppofe)  when  my  Fafjion  mere- 
ly, or  T'emper  changes.  *'  But  I  was 
**  out  of  order.  I  dreamt.  Who  tells 
2  "  me 


Advice  to  an  Author.  jij 

*'  me  this?  Who  befides  the  CoR-Sedt.  2, 

**  RE c TRICE,  by  whofe  means  I  am  in  i-/W 
"  my  Wits,  and  without  whom  I  am  nq 
"  longer  my-felf^  " 

Every  Man  indeed  who  is  not  abfo- 
lutely  befide  himfelf,  muft  of  neceflity 
hold  his  Fancys  under  fome  kind  of  Difci- 
pline  and  Management.  The  ftri5ier  this 
bifcipline  is,  the  more  the  Man  is  ratio- 
nal and  in  his  Wits.  The  loojer  it  is,  the 
more  fantaftical  he  muft  be,  and  the  nearer 
to  the  Madman's  State.  This  is  a  Bufinefs 
which  can  never  ftand  ftill.  I  muft  al- 
ways be  Winner  or  hofer  at  the  Game. 
Either  I  work  upon  my  Fancys^  or  They 
on  Me,  If  I  give  Quarter,  Tihey  won't. 
There  can  be  no  Truce,  no  Sufpenfion  of 
Arms  between  us.  The  one  or  the  other 
muft  be  fuperior,  and  have  the  Command. 
For  if  the  Fancys  are  left  to  themfelves, 
the  Government  muft  of  courfe  be  theirs. 
And  then,  what  difference  between  fuch  a 
State  and  Madnefs  ? 

The  Queftion  therefore  is  the  fame 
here,  as  in  a  Family,  or  HouJJooldy  when  'tis 
afk'd,  "  Who  rules  f  or  Who  is  MaprV' 
Learn  by  the  Voices.  Obferve  who 
fpeaks  aloud,  in  a  commanding  Tone : 
Who  talks,  who  queftions ;  or  who  is 
talk'd  with,  and  who  queftion'd.  Fo-  if 
the  Servants  take  the  former  part  j  they 
X  3  are 


324        \Advice  fo  an  Author, 

Part  3. are  the  Mafters,  and  the  Government  of 
t/V^  the  Houfe  will  be  found  fuch  as  naturally 
may  be  expected  in  thefe  Circumftances. 

How  flands  it  therefore,  in  my  own 
OEconomy,  my  principal  Province  and 
Command  ?  How  ftand  my  Fancy s  ?  How 
deal  they  with  me  ?  Or  do  I  take  upon 
me  rather  to  deal  with  I'hem  P  Do  I  talk, 
queftion,  arraign  ?  Or  am  I  talk'd  with, 
arraign'd,  and  contented  to  hear,  without 
giving  a  Reply  ?  If  I  vote  with  Fancy, 
refign  my  *  Opinion  to  her  Command,  and 
judg  of  Happinefs  and  Mifery  as  yi6^  judges  ; 
how  am  I  my-felfV^ 

He  who  in  a  Plain  imagines  Precipices 
at  his  Feet,  impending  Rocks  over  his 
Head  j  fears  burfting  Clouds  in  a  clear 
Sky  ;  cries  Fire !  Deluge  I  Earthquake, 
or  7'hunder  I  when  all  is  quiet :  does  he 
not  rave  ?  But  one  whofe  Eyes  feemingly 
ftrike  fire,  by  a  Blow ;  one  whofe  Head  is 
giddy  from  the  Motion  of  a  Ship,  after 
having  been  newly  fet  afhore ;  or  one 
who  from  a  Diftemper  in  his  Ear  hears 
thundring  Noifes ;  can  readily  redrefs  thefe 
feveral  Apprehenflons,  and  is  by  this  means 
fav'd  from  Madnefs. 

•  VOL.  III.  pag.  199,  &c. 

A 


Advice  to  an  Author.  jiy 

Sedt.  2. 
A  Distemper  in  my  Eye  may  make Lor>J 
me  fee  the  ftrangeft  kind  of  Figures : 
And  when  Catarads  and  other  Impuritys 
are  gathering  in  that  Organ  ;  FHes,  In- 
fers, and  other  various  Forms,  feem  play- 
ing in  the  Air  before  me.  But  let  my 
Senfcs  err  ever  fo  w^idelyj  I  am  not  on 
this  account  dejide  rny-felf:  Nor  am  I  out 
of  my  ow^n  Pofleflion,  whilft  there  is  a 
Perfon  left  within ;  who  has  Power  to 
difpute  the  Appearances,  and  redrefs  the 
Imagination. 

I  A  M  accofted  by  Ideas  and  ftriking  Ap- 
prehenjions :  But  I  take  nothing  on  their 
Report.  I  hear  their  Story,  and  return 
*em  Anfwer,  as  they  deferve.  Fancy 
and  I  are  not  all  one.  The  Difagreement 
makes  me  my  own.  When,  on  the  contra- 
ry, I  have  no  Debate  with  her,  no  Con- 
troverfy;  but  take  for  Happmefs  and  M/- 
fery^  for  Good  and  ///,  whatever  {he  pre- 
.  fents  as  fuch  j  I  muft  then  join  Voices 
with  her,  and  cry  Precipice  !  Fire  !  Cer- 
berus!  Elyzium  /— 

"  Sandy  Defarts  I  fowery  Fields  ! 

"  Seas  of  Milk,  and  Ships  of  Amber  T 

A   Grecian    Prince,    who   had    the 

fame  Madnefs  as  Alexander,  and  was 

deeply  ftruck  with  the  Fancy  of  conquering 

X  4  W^orlds, 


^i6  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.Worlds,  was  ingenioufly  fhewn  the  Me- 
^^^W  thod  of  expoftulating  with  his  Lady-Go^ 
'vernefs',  when  by  a  difcreet  Friend,  and 
at  an  eafy  Hour,  he  was  afk'd  little  by 
little  concerning  his  Defign,  and  the  final 
Purpofe^  and  promis'd  Good  which  the  flat- 
tering Dame  propos'd  to  him.  The  Story 
is  fuSiciently  noted.  All  the  Artifice  em- 
ploy'd  againft  the  Prince  was  a  well- 
manag'd  Interrogatory  of  what  next  ?  La- 
dy-F  A  N  c  Y  was  not  aware  of  the  Defign 
upon  her ;  but  let  her-felf  be  worm'd  out, 
by  degrees.  At  firft,  fhe  fa  id  the  Prince's 
defign  was  only  upon  a  Tra<S  of  Land, 
which  flood  out  like  a  Promontory  before 
^  him,  and  feem'd  to  eclipfe  his  Glory.     A 

fair  rich  Ifland,  which  was  clofe  by,  pre- 
fented  it-felf  next,  and  as  it  were  natu- 
rally invited  Conquefl.  The  oppofite 
Coaft  came  next  in  view.  Then  the  Con- 
tinent on  each  fide  the  larger  Sea.  And 
then  (what  was  eafiefl  of  all,  and  wou'd 
follow  of  courfe)  the  Dominion  both  of 
Sea  and  Land.  "  And  What  next  f  re- 

"  ply'd  the  Friend.  What  fhall  we  do, 
"  when  we  are  become  thus  happy,  and 
"  have  obtain'd  our  highefl  Wifh  ?  Why 
"  then,  we'll  fit  down  peaceably,  and  be 
^         "  gopd  Company  over  a  Bottle.  Alas, 

"  Sir!  What  hinders  us  from  doing  the 
"  fame,  where  we  now  are  ?  Will  our 
"  Humour,  or  our  Wine  grow  better  ? 
**  Shall  we  be  more  fecure,  or  at  Heart's 
r Tr;/  «  Eafe? 


Advice  to  an  Author..  317 

«  Eafe?  What  you  may  pofiibly  lofe  byScd:.  2. 
"  thefe  Attempts,  is  eafy  to  conceive.  ^>^VNj 
"  But  which  way  you  will  be  a  Gainer, 
"  your  own  Fancy  (you  fee)  cannot  fo 
"  much  as  fuggeft."  Fan  c  y  in  the  mean 
while  carry'd  her  point:  for  Ihe  was  ab- 
folute  over  the  Monarch ;  and  had  been 
too  little  talk'd  to  by  her-felf^  to  bear  being 
reprov'd  in  Company.  The  Prince  grew 
fullen  ;  turn'd  the  Difcourfe ;  abhor'd  the 
Profanation  ofFer'd  to  his,  Sovereign-Em- 
prefs ;  deliver'd  up  his  Thoughts  to  her 
again  with  deep  Devotion,  and  fell  to  con- 
quering with  all  his  Might.  The  Sound 
of  ViBory  rung  in  his  Ears.     Laurels  and 

Crowns  play'd  before  his  Eyes. What 

was  this  belide  GUJineJ's  2Lnd  Dream?  ap- 
pearances uncorrected  ?  "  Worlds  dancing  ? 
*'  Phantoms  playing  ? 

"  Seas  of  Milk,  and  Ships  of  Amber  !'* 

*Tis  eafy  to  bring  the  Hero's  Cafe  home 
to  our-felves ;  and  fee,  in  the  ordinary 
Circumftances  of  Life,  how  Love,  Ambi- 
tion, and  the  gayer  Tribe  of  Fancys  (as 
well  as  the  gloomy  and  dark  Spedlers  of 
another  fort)  prevail  over  our  Mind.  'Tis 
eafy  to  obferve  how  they  work  on  us, 
when  we  refufe  to  be  before-hand  with 
*em,  and  beflow  repeated  LefTons  on  the 
encroaching  Sorcerejjes.  On  this  it  is,  that 
our  oifer'd  Advice,  and  Method  of  So" 

J.  I L  o  Qu  y 


328  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.LIL0QJJY  depends.  And  whether  this 
v^-v^-^  be  of  any  ufe  towards  making  us  either 
wifer,  or  happier ;  I  am  confident,  it  muft 
help  to  make  us  wittier  and  politer.  It 
muft,  beyond  any  other  Science,  teach  us 
the  Turns  of  Humour  and  PaJJioriy  the 
Variety  of  MannerSy  the  Juftnefs  of  Cha- 
raster Sy  and  Truth  of  Things ;  which 
when  we  rightly  underftand,  we  may  natu- 
rally defcribe.  And  on  this  depends  chief- 
ly the  Skill  and  Art  of  a  good  Writer,  So 
that  if  to  write  well  be  a  juft  pretence  to 
Merit  J  'tis  plain,  that  WriterSy  who  are 
apt  to  fet  no  fmall  Value  on  their  Art, 
muft  confefs  there  is  fomething  valuable 
in  this  f elf -examining  Pradlice,  and  Method 
of  inward  Colloquy, 

A  s  for  the  Writer  of  thefe  Papers  (as 
modern  Authors  are  pleas'd  modeftly  to 
ftyle  themfelves)  he  is  contented,  for  his 
part,  to  take  up  with  this  Pradice,  barely 
for  his  own  proper  Benefit;  without  re- 
gard to  the  high  Function  or  Capacity  of 
Author.  It  may  be  allow'd  him,  in  this 
particular,  to  imitate  the  beft  Genius  and 
moft  Gentleman-like  of  Roman  Poets.  And 
tho  by  an  Excefs  of  Dulnefs,  it  ftiou'd  be 
his  misfortune  to  learn  nothing  of  this 
Poet's  Wity  he  is  perfuaded  he  may  learn 
fomething  of  his  Honejly  and  good  Hu- 
mour, 

Neque 


Advice  to  an  Author.  jip 


Sea. 


oect.  3. 
Neque  enim,  cum  leBulus,  aut  M  e  '>^V^o 


Porticus  excepit,  defum  M  i  h  i :  "  ReSiius 

"  hoc  efl : 
"  Hoc  faciens^  'uivam  melius :  Jic  dulcis 

"  Amicis 

**  Occurramr Hac  Ego  Mecum 

Compreffis  agito  labris, 1- 


SECT.     III. 

WE  are  now  arriv'd  to  that  part  of 
our  Performance,  where  it  becomes 
us  to  caft  our  Eye  back,  on  what  has  al- 
ready pafs'd.  The  Obfervers  of  Method 
generally  make  this  the  place  of  Recapitu- 
lation. Other  Artifts  have  fubftituted  the 
Practice  of  Apology,  or  Extenuation, 
For  the  anticipating  Manner  of  prefatory 
Difcourfe,  is  too  well  known,  to  work 
any  furprizing  effedt  in  the  Author's  be- 
half: Preface  being  become  only  ano- 

*  Hor.  Sat.  /^.  lib.  1. 

-[•And  again  : 

^ocirca  M  E  c  u  M  loquor  hac,  tacitufque  r tear  dor  : 
Si  tibi  nulla  Jitim  finiret  copia  lymphs, 
Narrares  medicis :  quod  quanta  plura  parafliy 
^Tanto  plura  cupis,  nulline  faterier  audes  ? 

Non  es  avarus :  abi.  quid?  c/etera  jam  fimul  ifio 
Cum  'vitio  fugere  ?  caret  tibi  peSlus  inani 
jimbitione  ?    Caret  mortis  formidine  ^  ird  ? 

Id.  Epift.  2.  lib.  Z. 

ther 


33©         Advice  to  an  Aui\iot. 

Part  3.ther  word  to  fignify  Excufe.  Befides  that 
^-''V^^^  the  Author  is  generally  the  moft  flraiten'd 
in  that  preliminary  Part,  which  on  other 
accounts  is  too  apt  to  grow  voluminous. 
He  therefore  takes  the  advantage  of  his 
Corollary  or  Wi?iding-up  ;  and  ends  pathe- 
^  tically,    by    endeavouring    in    the    foftefl 

manner  to  reconcile  his  Reader  to  thofe 
Faults  which  he  chufes  rather  to  excufe 
than  to  amend. 

General  Pradtice  has  made  this  a 
neceflary  Part  of  Elegance,  hardly  to  be 
pafs'd  over  by  any  Writer.  'Tis  the  chief 
Stratagem  by  which  he  engages  in  per- 
fonal  Conference  with  his  Reader ;  and 
can  talk  immoderately  of  Himfelf,  with  all 
the  feeming  Modefty  of  one  who  is  the 
furtheft  from  any  felfifh  Views,  or  con- 
ceited Thoughts  of  his  own  Merit.  There 
appears  fuch  a  peculiar  Grace  and  Ingenu- 
ity in  the  method  of  confefling  Lazinefs, 
Precipitancy,  Carelefnefs,  or  whatever  other 
Vices  have  been  the  occafion  of  the  Au- 
thor's Deficiency ;  that  it  wou'd  feem  a 
Pity,  had  the  Work  it-felf  been  brought 
to  fuch  Perfed:ion,  as  to  have  left  no  room 
for  the  penitent  Party  to  enlarge  on  his 
own  'Demerits.  For  from  the  multiplicity 
of  thefe,  he  finds  Subject  to  ingratiate 
himfelf  with  his  Reader  ;  who  doubtlefs  is 
not  a  little  rais'd  by  this  Submiflion  of  a 
confejjjng  Author  -,   and  is  ready,   on  thefe 

terms. 


Advice  to  an  Author.  jjT 

terms,  to  give  him  Abjolution^  and  receive  Sedl.  3. 
him  into  his  good  Grace  and  Humour.        t^^WJ 

I N  the  galante  World,  indeed,  we  eafily 
find  how  far  a  Humility  of  this  kind  pre- 
vails. They  who  hope  to  rife  by  Merit, 
are  likelieft  to  be  difappointed  in  their 
Pretenfions.  The  confeffing  Lover,  who 
afcribes  all  to  the  Bounty  of  the  Fair-one, 
meets  his  Reward  the  fooner,  for  having 
ftudy'd  lefs  how  to  deferve  it.  For  Me- 
rit is  generally  thought  prefumptuous, 
and  fuppos'd  to  carry  with  it  a  certain 
AfTurance  and  Eafe,  with  which  a  Miftrefs 
is  not  fo  well  contented.  The  Claim  of 
well-deferving  feems  to  derogate  from  the 
pure  Grace  and  Favour  of  the  BenefaStrice ; 
who  then  appears  to  her-felf  moft  fove- 
reign  in  Power,  and  likeliefl  to  be  obey'd 
without  referve,  when  fhe  beftows  her 
Bounty,  where  there  is  leaft  Title,  or  Pre- 
tenfion. 

> 

T  H  u  s  a  certain  Adoration  of  the  Sex, 
which  pafles  in  our  Age  without  the  leaft 
Charge  of  Profanenefs,  or  Idolatry,  may, 
according  to  vulgar  Imagination,  ferve  to 
juftify  thefe  galante  Votarys^  in  the  imita- 
tion of  the  real  Religious  and  Devout,  The 
method  of  *  Self-abafement  may  perhaps 
be   thought  the  propereft    to   make   Ap- 

*  SuprUi  p.  38. 

proaches 


3  3^  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.proaches  to  the  facred  Shrines:  And  the 
C/V^  intire  Refignation  of  Merits  in  each  Cafe, 
may  be  efteem'd  the  only  ground  of  well- 
deferving.  But  what  we  allow  to  Heaven, 
or  to  the  Fair,  fliou'd  not,  methinks,  be 
made  a  Precedent,  in  favour  of  the  World. 
Whatever  Deference  is  due  to  that  Body 
of  Men  whom  we  call  Readers  j  we  may 
be  fuppos'd  to  treat  'em  with  fufficient 
Honour,  if  with  thorow  Diligence,  and 
Pains,  we  endeavour  to  render  our  Works 
ferfeB ;  and  leave  'em  to  judg  of  the  Per- 
formance, as  they  are  able. 

However  difficult  or  defperate  it  may 
appear  in  any  Artilt  to  endeavour  to  bring 
PerfeBion  into  his  Work ;  if  he  has  not  at 
leaft  the  Idea  o/' Perfection  to  give 
him  Aim,  he  will  be  found  very  defedive 
and  mean  in  his  Performance.  Tho  his 
Intention  be  to  pleafe  the  World,  he  muft 
neverthelefs  be,  in  a  manner,  above  it ; 
and  fix  his  Eye  upon  that  confummate 
Grace,  that  Beauty  of  Nature,  and  that 
TerfeBion  of  Numbers,  which  the  reft  of 
Mankind,  feeling  only  by  the  Effed:, 
whilft  ignorant  of  the  Caufe,  term  the 
Je-ne-f^ay-quoy,  the  unintelligible,  or  the 
I  know  not  what ;  and  fuppofe  to  be  a 
kind  of  Charm,  or  Inchantment,  of  which 
the  Artift  himfelf  can  give  no  account. 

BUT 


Advice  to  an  Author.  33 J 

Sea.  3. 

BUT  HERE,  I  find,  I  am  tempted  to 
do  what  I  have  my-felf  condemn'd.  Hard- 
ly can  I  forbear  making  fome  apology  for 
my  frequent  Recourfc  to  the  Rules  of 
common  Artifts,  to  the  Mafters  of  Exer- 
cife,  to  the  Academys  of  Painters,  Statu- 
arys,  and  to  the  reft  of  the  FtrtuoJO'Trihe, 
But  in  this  I  am  fo  fully  fatisfy'd  I  have 
Reafon  on  my  fide,  that  let  Cuftom  be 
ever  fo  ftrong  againft  me,  I  had  rather 
repair  to  thefe  inferior  Schools,  to  fearch 
for  Truth,  and  Nature;  than  to 
fome  other  Places,  where  higher  Arts  and 
Sciences  are  profefs'd. 

I  AM  perfuaded  that  to  be  a  Virtuofo 
(fo  far  as  befits  a  Gentleman)  is  a  higher 
flep  towards  the  becoming  a  Man  of  Vir- 
tue and  good  Senfe,  than  the  being  what 
in  this  Age  we  call  *  a  Scholar.  For  even 
rude  Nature  it-felf,  in  its  primitive  Sim- 
plicity, 

•  It  fcems  indeed  fomewhat  improbable,  that  according 
to  modern  Erudition,  and  as  Science  is  now  diftributed, 
our  ingenious  and  noble  Youths  fhou'd  obtain  the  full  ad- 
vantage of  a  juft  and  liberal  Education,  by  uniting  the 
Scholar-'^zxt  with  that  of  the  real  Gentleman  and  Man  of 
Breeding.  Academys  for  Exercifes,  fo  ufeful  to  the  Pub- 
lick,  and  eflential  in  the  Formation  of  a  genteel  and 
liberal  Charafter,  are  unfortunately  negledled.  Letters  are 
indeed  banifli'd,  I  know  not  where,  in  diftant  Cloifters 
and  unpra£liid  Cellsy  as  our  Poet  has  it,  confin'd  to  the 
Commerce  and  mean  Felltnvfrip  of  bearded  Boys.     The 

fprightly 


JJ4  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.plicity,  is  a  better  Guide  to  Judgment, 
v^V^^  than  improv'd  Sophiftry,  and  pedantick 
Learning.  The  Faciunty  na^  intellegendo, 
ut  nihil  intelleganty  will  be  ever  apply'd 
by  Men  of  Difcernment  and  free  Thought 
to  fuch  Logick,  fuch  Principles,  fuch  Forms 
and  Rudiments  of  Knowledg,  as  are  efta- 
blifh'd  in  certain  Schools  of  Literature 
and  Science.  The  cafe  is  fufficiently  un- 
derftood  even  by  thofe  who  are  unwil- 
ling to  confefs  the  Truth  of  it.  Effedis 
betray  their  Caufes.  And  the  known 
Turn  and  Figure  of  thofe  Underftandings, 
which  fprout  from  Nurferys  of  this  kind, 
give  a  plain  Idea  of  what  is  judg'd  on  this 
occalion.      'Tis   no    wonder,    if  after    fo 

wrong 

!^rightly  Arts  and  Sciences  are  fever'd  from  Philofophy, 
which  confequently  mull  grow  dronifh,  infipid,  pedantick, 
ufelefs,  and  diredly  oppofite  to  the  real  Knowledg  and 
Praftice  of  the  World  and  Mankind.  Our  Youth  accor- 
dingly feem  to  have  their  only  Chance  between  two  wide^ 
difrerent  Roads  ;  either  that  of  Pedantry  and  School-Learn^ 
ingy  which  lies  anudft  tlie  Dregs  and  moft  corrupt  part 
of  antient  Literature ;  or  that  of  the  fapionable  illiterate 
World,  which  aims  merely  at  the  Charafter  of  the  fine 
Gentleman,  and  takes  up  with  the  Foppery  of  modern  Lan- 
guages and  foreign  Wit.  The  frightful  Afpeft  of  the  for- 
mer of  thefe  Roads  makes  the  Journey  appear  defperate 
and  impradlicable.  Hence  that  Averfion  fo  generally  con- 
ceiv'd  againft  a  learned  CbaraSler,  wrong  turn'd,  and 
hideoufly  fet  out,  under  fuch  Difficultys,  and  in  fuch 
feeming  Labyrinths,  and  myfterious  Forms.  As  if  a 
Homer  or  a  Xenophon  imperfeftly  learnt,  in  raw 
Years,  might  not  afterwards,  in  a  riper  Age,  be  ftudy'd,  as 
well  in  a  Capital  City  and  amidft  the  World,  as  at  a  College, 
or  Country-Tow^ /  Or  as  if  a  Plutarch,  aTuLLY,  or 
a  Horace  cou'd  not  accompany  a  young  Man  in  his 
-    •  Travels, 


Advice  to  an  AutWrr        ?35 

wrong  a  ground  of  Education,  there  appears  Sed.  3. 
to  be  fuch  need  of  Redrefs,  and  Amend-  C^^V^ 
ment,  from  that  excellent  School  which 
we  call  the  World.  The  mere  Amufements 
of  Gentlemen  are  found  more  improving 
than  the  profound  Refearches  of  Pedants, 
And  in  the  Management  of  our  Youth,  we 
are  forc'd  to  have  recourfe  to  the  former ; 
as  an  Antidote  againft  the  Genius  peculiar 
to  the  latter.  If  the  Formalijis  of  this 
fort  were  erected  into  Patentees,  with  a 
fole  Commiflion  of  Authorjhtp ;  we  fhou'd 
undoubtedly  fee  fuch  Writing  in  our  days, 
as  wou'd  either  wholly  wean  us  from  all 
Books  in  general,  or  at  leall  from  all  fuch 
as  were  the  produ6t  of  our  own  Nation, 
under  fuch  a  fubordinate  and  conforming 
Government. 


Tra'veJsy  at  a  Court,  or  (if  occafion  were)  eve«  In  a  Camp  ! 
The  Cafe  is  not  without  Precedent.  Leifure  is  found  luffi- 
cient  for  other  Reading  of  numerous  modern  Tranfiations, 
and  worfe  Originals,  of  Italian  or  French  Authors,  who  are 
read  merely  for  Amufement.  The  French  indeed  may  boafl: 
of  fome  legitimate  Authors  of  a  juft  Relilh,  correft,  and 
without  any  mixture  of  the  affefted  or  fpurious  kinds  j  the 
falfe  Tender,  or  the  falfe  Sublime  ;  the  conceited  Jingle,  or 
the  ridiculous  Point.  They  are  fuch  Genius's  as  have  been 
form'd  upon  the  natural  Model  of  the  Antients,  and  willing- 
ly own  their  Debt  to  thofe  great  Mailers.  But  for  the  reft, 
who  draw  from  another  Fountain,  as  the  Italian  Authors  in 
particular ;  they  may  be  reckoned  no  better  than  the  Cor- 
rupters of  true  Learning  and  Erudition ;  and  can  indeed  be 
relifh'd  by  thofe  alone,  whofe  Education  has  unfortunately 
deny'd  'em  the  Familiarity  of  the  noble  Antients,  and  the 
Pradice  of  a  better  and  more  natural  Tajie.  See  above,  /. 
286,  &c.  and  VOL.  XL  p.  184^  185,  186.. 

Vol.  I.  Y  How- 


^^6  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.  ,  ;  }^% 

W'V^^  However  tnis  may  prove,  there  can 
be  no  kind  of  Writing  which  relates  to 
Men  and  Manners,  where  it  is  not  necefla- 
ry  for  the  Author  *  to  underftand  Poetical 
and  Moral  Truth,  the  Beauty  of  Sen- 
timents, the  Sublime  of  Ch2ir2id:ers;  and  car- 
ry in  his  Eye  the  Model  or  Exemplar  of 
that  natural  Grace,  which  gives  to  every 
A6lion  its  attradive  Charm.  If  he  has 
naturally  no.  Eye,  or  Ear,  for  thcfe  inte- 
rior Numbers  ;  'tis  not  likely  he  fhou'd  be 
able  to  judg  better  of  that  exterior  Pro- 
portion and  Symmetry  of  Compofition,  which 
conftitutes  a  legitimate  Piece, 

Cou'd  we  once  convince  our-felves  of 
what  is  in  it-felf  fo  evident ;  -f  "  That  in 
"  the  very  nature  of  Things  there  muft  of 
"  neceffity  be  the  Foundation  of  a  right 
"  and  wrong  Taste,  as  well  in  refpedt  of 
"  inward  Charaders  and  Features,  as  of 
"  outward  Perfon,  Behaviour,  and  Adlionj" 
we  fhou'd  be  far  more  afham'd  of  Igno- 
rance and  wrong  Judgment  in  the  former, 
than  in  the  latter  of  thefe  Subjects.  Even 
in  the  Arts,  which  are  mere  Imitations  of 
that  outward  Grace  and  Beauty,  we  not 
only  confefs  a  Tafte;  but  make  it  a  part  of 
refin'd  Breeding,    to  difcover,    amidft  the 

■  •  Supra,  p.  208. 

f  VOL.  III.  />.  \6\,  179,  &c. 

.7/ oil  Y  "'^"y 


A  D  V I  c  E  /a  an  Authon  ^  j  / 

many  falfe  Manners  and  ill  Styles,  the  trucSed.  3* 
and    natural   one,     which   reprefents    the^-'^YNJ 
real  Beauty  and   *  V  e  n  u  s    of  the  kind* 
'Tis  the  like  moral  Grace,  and  Venus, 
which  difcovering  ii-felf  in  the  Turns  of 
CharaSier,   and  the  variety  of  human  Af- 
feiiion,  is  copy'd  by  the  writing  Artift.     if 
he  knows  not  this  Venus,    thefe  Gra- 
ces,   nor  was  ever  ftruck  with  the  Beauty^ 
the  Decorum  of  this  inward  kind,    he  can 
neither  paint  advantageoufly  after  the  Life, 
nor    in  a   feign'd  Subjed:,    where  he  has 
full  fcope.     For  -f-  never  can  he,   on  thefe 
Terms,    reprefent    Merit    and  Virtue,    or 
mark  Deformity  and  Blemi/h,     Never  can 
he  with  Juftice  and  true  Proportion  affign 
the  Boundarys  of  either  Part,    or  feparate 
the  diftant  CharaSfers.     The  Schemes  muft 
be   defective,    and   the  Draughts  confus'd, 
where  the  Standard  is  weakly  efiablifh'd, 
and  the  Meajure  out  of  ufe.     Such  a  De- 
figner,  who  has  fo  little  Feeling  of  thefe 
Proportions,    fo  little  Confcioufnefs  of  this 
Excellence,  or  thefe  Perfe6tions,  will  ne- 
ver  be    found  able   to   defcribe  a  perfedi 
CharaBer  j   or,    what   is    more   according 
to  Art  J,  "  exprefs  the  Effedt  and  Force 
"  of  this  BerfeSlion,   from  the  Refult  of 
*'  various   and  mixt  Characters  of  Life.". 


*  ^ufra,  p.  138,  l^c.  and  VOL.  III.  f.  i82>  3,4,  5,6. 
in  the  Notes. 

•f-  Supra,  p.  208. 

X  VOL.  in.  /.  260,  261,  2,  3.  in  the  Notes. 

Ya 


3J8 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


Part  3.  And  thus  the  Senfe  of  inward  Numbers, 
l^Wi  the  Knowledg  and  Practice  of  the  fecial 
Virtues,  and  the  Familiarity  and  Favour 
of  the  moral  Graces,  are  effential  to  the 
Character  of  a  deferving  Artift,  and  juft 
Favourite  of  the  Muses.  Thus  are  the 
Arts  and  Virtues  mutually  Friends :  and 
thus  the  Science  of  Virtuofo'Sy  and  that  of 
Virtue  it-felf,  become,  in  a  manner,  one 
and  the  fame. 

One  who  afpires  to  the  Charaifler  of  a 
Man  of  Breeding  and  Politenefs,  is  care- 
ful to  form  his  Judgment  of  Arts  and 
Sciences  upon  right  Models  of  PerfeBion. 
If  he  travels  to  Rome,  he  inquires  which 
are  the  trueft  Pieces  of  Architecture,  the 
beft  Remains  of  Statues,  the  beft  Paintings 
ofaRAPHAEL,  oraCARACHE.  How- 
ever antiquated,  rough,  or  difmal  they 
may  appear  to  him,  at  firft  fight ;  he  re- 
folves  to  view  *em  over  and  over,  till  he 
has  brought  himfelf  to  relifli  'em,  and  finds 
their  hidden  Graces  and  PerfeBions.  He 
takes  particular  care  to  turn  his  Eye  from 
every  thing  which  is  gaudy,  lufcious,  and 
of  a  falfe  T^ajie.  Nor  is  he  lefs  careful  to 
turn  his  Ear  from  every  fort  of  Mufick, 
befides  that  which  is  of  the  beft  Manner, 
and  trueft  Harmony. 

'T  w  E  R  E  to  be  wifti'd  we  had  the  fame 
rejjard  to  a  right  Taste  in  Life  and 
^^^-f*  Manners, 


A  D  V I  c  E  to  an  Author.  339 

.Manners.  What  Mortal,  being  once  con-Sed.  3. 
vinc'd  of  a  difference  in  inward  CharaBer^  U-^YN^ 
and  of  a  Preference  due  to  one  Kind  above 
another  ',  wou'd  not  be  concerned  to  make 
hh  6w«the  beft  ?  If  Civility  and  Humani^ 
Z)'  be  a  Taste  ;  if  Brutality ^  Injblence^ 
Riot,  be  in  the  fame  manner  a  Taste; 
who,  if  he  cou'd  refledt,  wou'd  not  chufe 
io  form  himfelf  on  the  amiable  and  agree- 
able, rather  than  the  odious  and  perverfe 
Model  ?  Who  wou'd  not  endeavour  to 
force  Nature  as  well  in  this  refped,  as 
in  what  relates  to  a  'Tajie  or  Judgment 
in  other  Arts  and  Sciences  ?  For  in  each 
place  the  Force  on  Nature  is  us'd  only 
for  its  Redrefs.  If  a  natural  good  Taste 
be  not  already  form'd  in  us  ;  why  fhou'd 
not  we  endeavour  to  form  it,  and  become 
natural f  i    ■' 

v.-.'a- J   like!     I  fanfy  !    I  admire! 
*'       How  ?  By  accident :    or    as   I 

■"  pleafe.  No.     But  I  learn  to  fanfy, 

■<*  to  admire,  to  pleafe,  as  the  Subjed:s 
**  themfelves  are  deferving,  and  can  bear 
.  **  me  out.  Otherwife,  I  like  at  this  hour, 
"  but  diflike  the  next.  I  (hall  be  weary 
"  of  my  Purfuit,  and,  upon  experience, 
"  find  little  *  Pleafure  in  the  main,  if  my 
"  Choice  and  Judgment  in  it  be  from  no 
[^  other  Rule  than  that  fingle  one,  becaufe 

*  Supra»  p.  309.  and  VOL.11.  ^.227,  ice. 

Y  3  "J 


14^ 


Advice  to  an  Authof. 


Part  3."  I  pkafe.  Grotefque  and  monftrous  Fi-* 
CO^^N-  "  gures  ofren  pleafe.  Cruel  Sped-acles,  and 
*'  Barbaritys  are  alfo  found  10  pleafe^  and, 
♦*  in  fome  Tempers,  to  pleafe  beyond  all 
^'  other  SubjeBs,  But  is  this  Pleafure 
"  right  ?  And  (hall  I  follow  ir,  if  it  pre- 
**  fents  ?  Not  ftrive  with  it,  or  endeavour 
**  to  prevent  its  growth  or  pre  valency  in 
"  my  Temper  ? — How  ftands  the  cafe  in 
."  a  more  foft  and  flattering  kind  of  Plea- 

**f  fure  ? Effeminacy  pleafes  me.     The 

"  Indian  Figures,  the  jfapan-'VJoTkj  the 
"  Enamel  ftrikes  my  Eye.  The  lufcious 
"  Colours  and  glofiy  Paint  gain  upon  my 
*'  Fancy.  A  French  or  Flemijh  Style  is 
*'  highly  lik'd  by  me,  at  firft  fight ;  and 
"  I  purfue  my  liking.     But  what  enfues  ? 

**  Do  I  not  for  ever  forfeit  my  good 

"  Relifh  ?  How  is  it  pofTible  I  fhou'd 
"  thus  come  to  tafte  the  Beautys  of  an 
"  Italian  Mafter,  or  of  a  Hand  happily 
"  form'd  on  Nature  and  the  Antients  ? 
"  'Tis  not  by  Wantonnefs  and  Humour 
"  that  I  {hall  attain  my  End,  and  arrive 
"  at  the  Enjoyment  I  propofe.  The  Art 
^'  it-felf  is  *  fevere  :  the  Rules  rigid.     And 

«  if 


*  Thus  Pliny,  fpeaking  with  a  mafterly  Judgment  of 
the  Dignity  of  the  then  declining  Art  of  Painting,  [de  Digni- 
tate  Artis  morientis)  (hews  it  to  be  not  only  fevere  in  reipedl 
of  the  Dilcipline,  Style,  Defign,  but  of  the  Charadlers  and 
Lives  of  the  noble  Mailers :  not  only  in  the  Effeft,  but  even 
in  the  very  Materials  of  the  Art,  the  Colours,  Ornaments,  and 

-    -  particular 


Advice  to  ^«  Author.  ^41 

"  if  I  tx^tdithe  Kmwledg  {hou'd  come  toSed:.  3. 
**  me  by  accident,   or  in  play ;   I  {hall  be  t/VN-> 
"  grofly   deluded,    and   prove  my-felf,    at 
"  beiV,    a  Mock-Virtuojb,    or  mere  Pedant 
"  of  the  kind." 


HERE  therefore  we  have  once  again 
exhibited  our  moral  Science  in  the  fame 
Method  and  Manner  ofSoLiLOQjJY  as 
above.  To  this  Corrc6tion  of  Humour 
and  Formation  of  a  Tafte,  our  Reading,  if 
it  be  of  the  right  fort,  muft  principally 
contribute.     Whatever  Company  we  keep ; 

or 

particular  Circumftances  belonging  to  the  Profefllon. 

EuPHRANORis   Difcipulus  Antidotus,  diligentior  quam 
vumerojiory  ^  in  color ibus  fmerus .  ■  N  i  c  i  A  compara- 

tur,  &  aliquanto  frafertur  Athenion  Maronitesy  Glau- 
c  I  o  N  I  s  Corinthii  Difcipulus,  l^  aufierior  colore^  ^  in  aufieri- 
tate  jucundior,  uf  in  ipfd  pi£lurd  Eruditio  eluceat.  *  *  * 
Slmd  nifi  in  juventd  obii^et,  nemo  ei  compararetur . 
P  A  u  s  I  it  ^  Filius  (ff  Difcipulus  Aristolaus  e  fe-verifji- 
viis  piSloribus  fuit."  ■  Fuit  U"  nuper  grai<is  ac  fever  us 
piSlor  Amulius.  *  *  *  Faucis  diei  horis  pingehat,  id 
quoque  cum  gra'vitate,  quod  femper  togatus,  quamquam  in 
machinis.  One  of  the  mortal  Symptoms  upon  which 
Pliny  pronounces  the  fure  Death  of  this  noble  Art,  not 
long  furv'ivor  to  him,  was  what  belong'd  in  cofhmon  t6 
all  the  other  periftiing  Arts  after  the  Fall  of  Liberty ;  I 
mean  the  Luxury  of  the  Roman  Court,  and  the  Change  of 
Tajle  and  Manners  naturally  confequent  to  fuch  a  Change 
ot  Government  and  Dominion.  This  excellent,  learned, 
and  polite  Critick  reprefejits  to  us  the  falfe  Tap  fpringing 
from  the  Court  it-felf,  and  from  that  Opulence,  Splendor, 
and  Affeftation  of  Magnificence  and  Expence  proper  to 
the  Place.  Thus  in  the  Statuary  and  Archite(ii\urc  then  in 
vogue,  nothing  cou'd  be  admir'd  befide  what  was  coftly 
in  the  mere  Matter  or  Subttance  of  the  Work.     Precious 

Y  A  Rock, 


j4^  ,Advice  tQ  an  Author. 

Part  3. or  however  polite  and  agreeable  their  Cha-s 
^^^V^^  rafters  may  be,  with  whom  we  converfe, 
or  correfpond :  if  the  Authors  we  read  are 
of  another  kind,  we  fhall  find  our  Palat 
ftrangely  turn'd  their  way.  We  are  the 
unhappier  in  this  refpeft,  for  being  Scho- 
lars ;  if  our  Studys  be  ill  chofen,  Nor 
can  I,  for  this  reafon,  think  it  proper  to 
call  a  Man  well-read  who  reads  many  Au- 
thors J  lince  he  muft  of  neceffity  have 
more  ill  Models,  than  good ;  and  be  more 
fluff  d  with  Bombafl,  ill  Fancy,  and  wry 

Rock,  rich  Metal,  glittering  Stones,  and  other  lufcious 
W'are,  poifonous  to  Art,  came  every  day  more  into  requeft; 
and  were  impos'd,  as  neceffary  Materials,  on  the  beft 
Mailers.  'Twas  in  favour  of  thefe  Court-Beautys  and  gaudy 
Appearances,  that  all  good  Dranji^ing,  juft  Dejign,  and 
7ruth  of  Work  began  to  be  defpia'd.  Care  was  taken  10 
procure  from  diftant  Parts,  the  moft  gorgeous  fplendid 
Colours,  of  the  moft  coftly  Growth  or  Compofition  :  not 
fuch  as  had  been  us'd  by  Apelles  and  the  great  Mailers, 
who  are  jufUy  fevere,  loyal,  and  faithful  to  their  Art. 
This  newer  Colouring  our  Critick  calls  the  florid  kind. 
The  Materials  were  too  rich  to  be  fumifli'd  by  the  Painter, 
but  were  befpoke  or  furnifti'd  at  the  coft  of  the  Perfon 
who  employ 'd  him  ;  (quos  Dominus  pingenti  frtrflat. ).  The 
other  he  calls  the  aujiere  kind.  And  thus,  fays  he,  "  Re- 
"  rum,  nan  Animi  pretiis  excubatur :  The  Cofl,  and  not  the 
**  Life,  and  Jrt,  is  fludy'd."  He  (hews,  on  the  contrary, 
what  care  Apelles  took  to  fubdue  the  jSor/V  Colours,  by 
a  darkening  Varnifh ;  ut  eadem  res,  fays  he,  nimis  floridis 
cohrihus  Aufleritatem  occulte  daret.  And  he  fays  juft  before, 
of  fome  of  the  iineft  Pieces  of  Apelles,  "  That  they 
*'  were  wrought  in  four  Colours  only."  So  great  and 
venerable  was  SIMPLICITY  held  among  the  Antients, 
and  fo  certain  was  the  Ruin  of  all  true  Elegance  in  Life 
or  Art,  where  this  Miftrefs  was  once  quitted  or  contemn'd  ! 
See  Pliny,  Lib.  35.  See  alfo,  above,  p.  144.  in  the  Notes i 
and/.  222. 

Thought  i 


Advice  to  an  AutW.  34^ 

Thought ;  than  fill'd  with  folid  Senfe,  andSecSt.  3, 
juft  Imagination;  (./^VNj 

But  notwithftanding  this  hazard  of  our 
Tajle,  from  a  Multiplicity  of  Reading  ;  we 
are  not,  it  feems,  the  leaft  fcrupulous  in 
our  choice  of  Subjedl.  We  read  what- 
ever comes  next  us.  What  was  firft  put 
into  our  hand,  when  we  were  young, 
ferves  us  afterwards  for  ferious  Study,  and 
wife  Refearch,  when  we  are  old.  We  are 
many  of  us,  indeed,  fo  grave  as  to  con- 
tinue this  Exercife  of  Youth  thro'  our 
remaining  Life.  The  exercifing-Authors 
of  this  kind  have  been  above  *  defcrib'd, 
in  the  beginning  of  this  Treatife.  The 
Manner  of  Exercife  is  call'd  Meditation^ 
and  is  of  a  fort  fo  folemn  and  profound, 
that  we  dare  not  fo  much  as  thorowly 
examine  the  Subjedt  on  which  we  are  bid 
to  meditate.  This  is  a  fort  of  ^Z^-Read- 
ing,  in  which  a  Taste  is  not  permitted. 
How  little  foever  we  take  of  this  Diet ; 
'tis  fufficient  to  give  full  Exercife  to  our 
grave  Humour,  and  allay  the  Appetite 
towards  further  Refearch  and  folid  Con- 
templation. The  reft  is  Holiday,  Diver- 
fion,  Play,  and  Fancy.  We  rejed  all 
Rule-,  as  thinking  it  an  Injury  to  our 
Diverlions,  to  have  regard  to  ^ruth  or 
Nature:    without    which,    however,    no- 

*  Pag.  164,  165,  ^V. 

2,  ^      thing 


^44  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3. thing  can  be  truly  agreeable,  or  enter- 
C/'V>w  taining  ;  .  much  lefs,  inftru6tive,  or  im- 
proving. Thro'  a  certain  *  Surfeit  taken 
in  a  wrong  kind  of  ferious  Reading,  we 
apply  our-felves,  with  full  content,  to  the 
moft  ridiculous.  The  more  remote  our 
Pattern  is  from  any  thing  moral  or  profi- 
table ;  the  more  Freedom  and  Satisfadtion 
we  find  in  it.  We  care  not  how  Gothick 
or  Barbarous  our  Models  are ;  what  ill-de- 
fign'd  or  monftrous  Figures  we  view  j  or 
what  falfe  Proportions  we  trace,  or  fee 
defcrib'd  in  Hiftory,  Romance,  or  Fi(5tion. 
And  thus  our  Eye  and  Ear  is  loft.  Our 
Relifh  or  Tafte  muft  of  necefiity  grow  bar- 
barous, whilft  Barbarian  Cuftoms,  Savage 
Manners,  Indian  Wars,  and  Wonders  of 
the  T^erra  Incognita^  employ  our  leifure 
Hours,  and  are  the  chief  Materials  to  fur- 
ni(h  out  a  Library. 

These  are  in  our  prefent  Days,  what 
Books  of  Chivalry  were,  in  thofe  of  our 
Forefathers.  I  know  not  what  Faith  our 
valiant  Anceftors  may  have  had  in  the 
Storys  of  their  Giants,  their  Dragons,  and 
St.  George's.  But  for  our  Faith  indeed, 
as  well  as  our  T'ajie^  in  this  other  way  of 
reading  \  I  muft  confefs  I  can't  confider  it, 
without  Aftonifhment.  ♦ 

*  Supra,  p.  71,72. 


Adyicb  to  an  Author*  j4y 

Sea.  7, 
I T  muft  certainly  be  fomething  elfe  than  ^^VX; 
Incredulity^  which  fafhions  the  Tafte  and 
Judgment  of  many  Gentlemen,  whom 
we  hear  cenfur'd  as  Atheifis^  for  attempt- 
ing to  philofophize  after  a  newer  manner 
than  any  known  of  late.  For  my  own 
part,  I  have  ever  thought  this  fort  of 
Men  to  be  in  general  more  credulous,  tho 
after  another  manner,  than  the  mere  Vul- 
gar. Befides  what  I  have  obferv*d  in  Con- 
verfation  with  the  Men  of  this  Charader, 
I  can  produce  many  anathematiz'd  Au- 
thors, who  if  they  want  a  true  Ifraelitifh 
Faith,  can  make  amends  by  a  Chinefe  or 
Indian  one.  If  they  are  (hort  in  Syria,  or 
the  Faleftine ;  they  have  their  full  mea- 
fure  in  America,  or  'Japan,  Hiflorys  of 
Jncai  or  Iroquois,  written  by  Fryers  and 
Miffionarys,  Pirates  and  Renegades,  Sea- 
Captains  and  trufty  Travellers,  pafs  for  au- 
thentick  Records,  and  are  canonical,  with 
the  Virtuofds  of  this  fort.  Tho  Chrijiian 
Miracles  may  not  fo  well  fatisfy  'em ; 
they  dwell  with  the  higheft  Contentment 
on  the  Prodigys  of  Moorijh  and  Pagan 
Countrys.  They  have  far  more  Pleafure 
in  hearing  the  monftrous  Accounts  of 
monftrous  Men,  and  Manners  j  than  the 
politeft  and  befl  Narrations  of  the  Affairs, 
the  Governments,  and  Lives  of  the  wifeft 
and  moil  polifh'd  People. 

'TIS 

fiuiJ 


54<5 


Advice  to  an  Author; 


Part  3. 

'^■^^V"^  'Tis  the  fame  Tajle  which  makes  us 
prefer  a  T^urkijh  Hiftory  to  a  Grecian,  or 
a  Roman ;  an  Ariosto  to  aViRGiL; 
and  a  Romance,  or  Novel,  to  an  Iliads 
We  have  no  regard  to  the  Charafter  or 
Genius  of  our  Author :  nor  are  fo  far  cu- 
rious, as  to  obferve  how  able  he  is  in  the 
Judgment  of  Fa^Sj  or  how  ingenious  in 
the  Texture  of  his  Lyes.  For  Fa^s  unably 
related,  tho  with  the  greateft  Sincerity, 
and  good  Faith,  may  prove  the  worft  fort 
of  Deceit :  And  mere  Lyes,  judlcioufly 
compos'd,  can  teach  us  the  *  Truth  of 
Things,  beyond  any  other  manner.  But 
to  amufe  our-felves  with  fuch  Authors  as 
neither  know  how  to  lye,  nor  te//  truths 
difcovers  a  Taste,  which  methinks  one 
ihou'd  not  be  apt  to  envy.  Yet  fo  en- 
chanted we  are  with  the  travelling  Me- 
moirs  of  any  cafual  Adventurer  j  that  be 
his  Character,  or  Genius,  what  it  will,  we 
have  no  fooner  tyrn'd  over  a  Page  or  two, 
than  we  begin  to  intereft  our-felves  highly 
in  his  Affairs.  No  fooner  has  he  taken 
Shipping  at  the  Mouth  of  the  T'hames,  or 
fent  his  Baggage  before  him  to  Gravefend, 
or  Buoy  in  the  Nore,  than  ftrait  our  Atten- 

^  *  The  greateft  ofCriticks  fays  of  the  greateft  Poet,  when 
lie  extols  him  the  liighelt,  "  Th^t  above  all  others  he  undcr- 
"  ftood  ho<w  TO  LYE  :^  ^S'iJk:^  H  iM^tra.  "O/zMf©- 
"  x)  T«V  etAXBf  '4'6f<^w  '^iynv  «V  <r« ."  Arift.  de  Poetica, 
cap.  24.     ■       See  VOL.  lIL  p.  260.  in  the  Notes. 

tion 


Advice  to  an  Author.  547 

tion  is  earneftly  taken  up.  If  in  order  toSedl.  3. 
his  more  diflant  Travels,  he  takes  fome  ^.^/^w 
Part  of  Europe  in  his  way  ;  we  can  with 
patience  hear  of  Inns  and  Ordinarys,  Paf- 
fage-Boats  and  Ferrys,  foul  and  fair  Wea- 
ther ;  with  all  the  Particulars  of  the  Au- 
thor's Diet,  Habit  of  Body,  his  perfonal 
Dangers  and  Mifchances,  on  Land,  and  Sea. 
And  thus,  full  of  defire  and  hope,  we  ac- 
company him,  till  he  enters  on  his  great 
Scene  of  Adion,  and  begins  by  the  Defcrip- 
tion  of  fome  enormous  Fijh,  or  Beaji,  From 
monflrous  Brutes  he  proceeds  to  yet  more 
monjtrous  Men.  For  in  this  Race  of  Au- 
thors, he  is  ever  c®mpleateft,  and  of  the 
firft  Rank,  who  is  able  to  fpeak  of  Things 
the  moft  unnatural  and  monfirous. 

This  Humour  our  *  old  Tragick  Poet 
feems  to  have  difcover'd.  He  hit  our 
^ajle  in  giving  us  a  Moorijh  Hero,  full 
fraught  with  Prodigy :  a  wondrous  Story- 
teller I  But  for  the  attentive  Part,  the  Poet 
chofe  to  give  it  to  Woman -kind.  What 
paffionate  Reader  of  Iravels,  or  Student 
in  the  prodigious  Sciences,  can  refufe  to 
pity  that  fair  Lady,  who  fell  in  Love  with 
the  miraculous  Moor;  efpecially  confi- 
dering  with  what  futablc  grace  fuch  a  Lover 
cou'd  relate  the  moft  monftrous  Adven- 
tures,   and  fatisfy  the  wondring  Appetite 

f  Shakesfsar. 

with 


^4?  ADvibfi  fo  ajt  Authof. 

Part  3.  with  the  moft  wondrous  Tales  5  Whereitt 
l/VN^  (fays  the  Hero-Traveller) 

Of  Antars  'vaft,  and  Defarts  idle, 
■    It  was  my  Hint  to  /peak : 
•    And  of  the  Cannibals  that  each  other  eat  I 
^he   Anthropophagie  1    and  Men    whofe 
Heads 
^  ,  •.    Do  grms)  beneath  their  Shoulders,     T^hefe 

to  hear 
-    Wou'd  Desdemona  ferioujly  incline* 

Seriously,  *twas  a  wofulTale!  un- 
fit, one  wou'd  think,  to  win  a  tender  Fair- 
one.  It's  true,  the  Poet  fufficiently  con- 
demns her  Fancy ;  and  makes  her  (poor 
Lady  !)  pay  dearly  for  it,  in  the  end.  But 
why,  amongfl  his  Greek  Names,  he  fhou'd 
have  chofen  one  which  denoted  the  Lady 
Superjlitious^  I  can't  imagine :  unlefs,  as 
Poets  are  fometimes  Prophets  too,  he  fhou'd 
figuratively,  under  this  dark  Type,  have 
reprefented  to  us.  That  about  a  hundred 
Years  after  his  Time,  the  Fair  Sex  of  this 
Ifla^d  fhou'd,  by  other  monftrous  'Talesy  be 
fo  feduc'd,  as  to  turn  their  Favour  chiefly 
on  the  Perfons  of  the  T^ale-tellers  j  and 
change  their  natural  Inclination  for  fair, 
candid,  and  courteous  Knights,  into  a  Paf- 
fion  for  a  myfterious  Race  of  black  Enchan- 
ters :  fuch  as  of  old  were  faid  to  creep  into 
HoiifeSy  and  lead  captive  filly  Women, 


-^^ 


^  Admqe  to  an  Author,  j49 

-n^vg-'  i:  '     y.^.  ^  Sedl.  3. 

L  *Tis  certain  there  is  a  very  great  Affi-  U^VVi 
>  nity  between  the  Paflion  of  Super  fit  tiorty 
and  that  of  T'ales.  The  Love  of  ftrange 
Narrations,  and  the  ardent  Appetite  to- 
wards unnatural  Objects,  has  a  near  Al- 
liance with  the  like  Appetite  towards  the 
fupernatural  kind,  fuch  as  are  call'd  prodi^ 
gious,  and  of  dire  Omen,  For  fo  the  Mind 
forebodes,  on  every  fuch  unufual  Sight  or 
Hearing.  Fate,  Deftiny,  or  the  Anger  of 
Heaven,  feems  denoted,  and  as  it  were  de- 
lineated, by  the  monftrous  Birth,  the  hor- 
rid Fadt,  or  dire  Event.  For  this  reafon 
the  very  Perfons  of  fuch  Relators  or  Tale- 
tellers^ with  a  fmall  help  of  difmal  Habit, 
fu table  Countenance  and  Tone,  become 
facred  and  tremendous  in  the  Eyes  of 
Mortals,  who  are  thus  addidted  from  their 
Youth.  The  tender  Virgins,  lofing  their 
natural  Softnefs,  affume  this  tragick  Paf- 
fion,  of  which  they  are  highly  fufcepti- 
ble,  efpecially  when  a  futable  kind  of  Elo- 
quence and  A(5tion  attends  the  Charadler 
of  the  Narrator.  A  thoufand  D  e  s  d  e  m  o- 
N  a's  are  then  ready  to  prefent  themfelve?, 
and  wou'd  frankly  refign  Fathers,  Rela- 
tions, Country-men,  and  Country  it-felf, 
to  follow  the  Fortunes  of  a  Hero  of  the 
black  Tribe. 

^        But  whatever  monftrous  Zeal,  or  fu- 

perftitious  Paifion,   the  Poet  might  fore- 

I     ^  tel. 


3 JO         Advice  if 0  an  Author. 

Part  3.tel,  either  in  the  Gentlemen,  Ladys,  or 
C/'Wf  common  People,  of  an  after  Age  ;  'tis  cer- 
tain that  as  to  Books,  the  fame  Moorijh 
Fancy,  in  its  plain  and  literal  fenfe,  pre- 
vails flrongly  at  this  prefent  time.  Mon- 
fters  and  Monfter-Lands  were  never  more 
in  requefl :  And  we  may  often  fee  a  Philo- 
fopher,  or  a  Wit,  run  a  Tale-gathering  in 
thofe  idle  Defarts^  as  familiarly  as  the  fil- 
lieft  Woman,  or  merefl  Boy. 


ONE  WOU'D   imagine,  that  *  our 
Thilofophical  Writers,  who  pretend  to  treat 

of 

*  Confidering  what  has  been  fo  often  faid  on  this  Subjefl 
of  Philofophy,  Learning  and  the  Si/ler- Arts,  after  that  antient 
Model  which  has  fmce  been  fo  much  corrupted ;  it  may  liot 
be  amifs  perhaps  to  hear  the  Confeffion  of  one  of  the  greatell 
and  moft  learned  of"  Moderns,  upon  this  Head.  "  Scilicet 
*'  ajjenfuri  ijii  funt  meter ibus  Sapientibus,  Poeticam  rrff  ff?ft- 
"  vojdivi  (pi^ocv(picL(  eivcu  cv'vvAOVf  feveriffims  Philofophise 
**  contubernalem  effe  ;  qi/os  njidemus  omvi  curd  tnorum  fofi- 
*'  habitd,  qtiie  'vera  Phibfophia  efl,  in  »e/cio  quibas  argu- 
**  Ttientatiunculis,  in  nii^is  lophifticis,  in  puerilibus  argutiolis, 
*'  KaCoii  dejiique  fti^io/f  to?  S'leLhi^mii,  quod  fud  jam 
**  eetate  Euphrades  Themiftius  conquertbatur,  fufnmain  fa- 
*'  pientiam  ponere  !  Scilicet  facundia  P  e  R  s  i  i  fuirile  ro- 
*'  bur,  aut  recondita  ilia  trnditio  eoi  capiet,  quibus  prifiinam 
*'  barbariem  mordiciis  retinere,  ^  if!  Jntiquitatis  tolius  ig- 
**  noratione  n^erfari,  potius  njidefur  cjfe  ac  mtlius,  qudtrt 
*'  pojfejjionem  literarum,  olim  fimili  focordid  extinclarum, 
*'  fnemorid  -vera  patrum  magna  Dei  ijnmortalis  beneficio  in 
*'  lucem  revocatarum  ex  altd  hominum  obli<viDne,  Jufi  «»»- 
*•  dicare,  ^  pro  fud  quemque  njirili  pojieris  ajferere  ! 
*********  Scribit  i-ero  AKViiAliVS,  fapientif- 
*'  Jimum  fenem  ilium  Epictetum,  impietatis  in  Deum 
**  eos  injimuldjfet    qui  in  Philofophia  jiudiis   rh  «tVdj>sA- 

"  ']iKh 


Advice  to  an  Author.  35 1 

of  Morals,  fhou'd  far  out-do  mere  P<9^/j,Parr  3. 
in  recommending  Virtue,  and  reprefent- 'u^VNj 
ing  what  was  fair  and  amiable  in  human 


**  limv   J^vtHtfUV,  fii'e  Sermonis  curam  tanquam  rem  le'uem 
*'  afpemarentur :    quoniam  quidem,    aiebat  'vir  di'vinus,  dai' 

•*  En  Germatium  Phllofophum !  En  njocem  auream !  Nee 
**  minus  memorabile  Synefii  Philofophi  pr^ejiantijjimi  'vati- 
*'  cinium  trijli  e'ventu  confirmatum.,  quod  multo  ante  ab  ipfo 
**  efi  edltum,  cum  rationem  fiudiorum  Jimiliter  per-verti  ab 
**  aqualibus  fuis  cerneret.  Difputam  enim  contra  cos  qui  ad 
*'  fan3ifjimt£  Theologize  Jiudia  Infantia?n  ^  SophijUcen  pro  fo- 
*'  lidd  eruditione  afferrent,  fatidicam  banc  quaji  fortem  edi- 
*'  dit.  YihJ^v©-,  inquit,  «?  a.Cvff(Tov  TJvet  tphvaejidti  i(ji.'7ri' 
**  ff'ov\ttf  TBTKf  c/)«lf9etfnJ'(*/*  Periculum  efi  ne  ejufmodi  ho- 
**  mines  in  abyffum  quamdam  inept i arum  delapji  penitus  cor- 
*'  rumpantur.  Utinam  dcfuiffet  huic  Oraculo  fides.  Sed pro- 
*'  feiio,  depraniationi  illi,  i^  hujus  Scientiarum  Regime,  l^ 
**  omnium  aliarum,  quce  pofiea  accidit,  occafionem  quidem 
*'  Gotthorum  y  Alanorum  in^vafiones  prabuerunt :  at  caufa 
**  illius  propior  ac  'vera  efi,  ratio  fiudiorum  per'verfa,  ilf  in 
**  liberalibus  Difciplinis  prava  Infiitutio,  ac  Linguarum fimul 
"  l^  uni'verfee  literature  melioris  ignoratio.  *****  ^/_ 
**  qui  non  in  eum  certe  fin  em  'viri  magni  iff  pr^ecepta  tjf  ex- 
*'  empla  'virtutum  memoria  commendata  ad  pofieros  tranf- 
*'  mtferunt,  ut  ad  inanem  aurium  obleBatioiiem,  'vel  jada- 
*'  tionem  'vanam  inutilis  eruditionis,  ea  cognofieremus :  <ve- 
**  riim  ut  fiiis  nos  lucubrationibus  excitarent  ad  effodienda 
«♦  ^  in  adum  producenda  RECTI  HONESTIque  fe- 
**  mina  ;  quce  cum  a  Naturd  accepififemus,  'vitiis  tamen  cir- 
"  cumfufei,  y  tantiim  non  obruta,  Jic  in  noflris  animisj 
-**  niji  cultura  melior  accedat,  latent,  quaJi  in  altum  quen- 
*'  dam  fcrobem  penitus  defojfa.  Hue  fpeBant  tot  ilia  Vo- 
**  lumina  que  de  Morali  Difciplind  Philofophi  confecerunt. 
*'  Tendii  eodem  iff  Grscorum  Latinorumyae  Poetarum  ple- 
**  raque  manus  ',  fed  itineribus  diverfis.  ^ot  funt  enim 
**  Poetarum  genera  (funt  autem  quamplurima)  tot  fere  di- 
\  *'  fverticula  Of  'viarum  ambages  eo  ducentium^  If.  Cafaub. 
in  Prafatione  Commentarii  ad  Perf  See  above,  pag.  190, 
191,  &c.  and  207,  208,  286.  and  298,  299.  and  333,  &c, 
and  338,  &c.  And  VOL.  III.  p.  61,  78,  79,  &c.  and 
239,  240,  241.  in  the  Notes. 

Vol.  I.  ,     Z  A(5lions. 


352  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.A(5lions.  One  wou'd  imagine,  that  if  they 
v-^V^-^  turn'd  their  Eye  towards  remote  Coun- 
trys,  (of  which  they  afFeft  fo  much  to 
fpeak)  they  fhou'd  fearch  for  that  Simpli- 
city .  of  Manners,  and  Innocence  of  Be- 
haviour, which  has  been  often  known  a- 
mong  mere  Savages  j  ere  they  were  cor- 
rupted by  our  Commerce,  and,  by  fad 
Example,  inflruded  in  all  kinds  of  Trea- 
chery and  Inhumanity.  'Twou'd  be  of 
advantage  to  us,  to  hear  the  Caufes  of 
this  ftrange  Corruption  in  our-felves,  and 
be  made  to  confider  of  our  Deviation  from 
Nature,  and  from  that  juft  Purity  of  Man- 
ners which  might  be  expected,  efpecially 
from  a  People  fo  aflifted  and  enlighten'd 
by  Religion.  For  vv^ho  wou'd  not  natu- 
rally exped:  more  Juftice,  Fidelity,  Tem- 
perance, and  Honefly,  from  Chrijiians, 
than  from  Mahometans,  or  mere  Pagans  ? 
But  fo  far  are  our  modern  Moralifts  from 
condemning  any  unnatural  Vices,  or  cor- 
rupt Manners,  whether  in  our  own  or 
foreign  Climates,  that  they  wou'd  have 
Vice  it-felf  appear  as  natural  as  Vir- 
tue ;  and  from  the  word  Examples, 
wou'd  reprefent  to  us,  "  That  all  Adions 
"are  natw^ally  indifferent  ;  that  they  have 
*'  no  Note  or  Character  of  Good,  or  111, 
"  in  tbemfehes ;  but  are  diftinguifh'd  by 
"  mere  Fashion,  Law,  or  arbitrary 
"  D  E  c  R  E  E."  Wonderful  Philofophy  ! 
rais'dfrom  the  Dregs  of  an  illiterate  mean 
^i:  .      %  kind. 


Advice  to  an  Author.  ^5^ 

kind,    which  was  ever  defpis'd  among  the  Sedl.  3. 
great  Antients,    and   rejeded  by  all  Men  ^^^r^ 
of  Adtion,    or  found   Erudition  j    but,   in 
thefe  Ages,    imperfedly   copy'd  from  the     / 
Original,    and,    with   much  Difadvantage, 
imitated  and  afTum'd,  in  common,  both  by 
devout  and  indevout  Attempters  in  the  mo- 
ral kind. 

S  H  o  ir*D  a  Writer  upon  Mufick,  addref^ 
ling  himfelf  to  the  Students  and  Lovers  of 
the  Art,  declare  to  'em,  "  That  the  Mea- 
"  fure  or  Rule  of  Harmony  was  Ca- 
"  price  or  JVill^  Humour  or  FaJJoion  "  'tis 
not  very  likely  he  fhou'd  be  heard  with 
great  Attention,  or  treated  with  real  Gra- 
vity. For  Harmony  is  Harmony  by 
Nature,  let  Men  judg  ever  fo  ridiculoufly 
of  Mufick.  So  is  Symmetry  and  Proportion 
founded  ftill  in  Nature,  let  Mens  Fancy 
prove  ever  fo  barbarous,  or  their  Fafhions 
ever  fo  Gothick  in  their  Architecture,  Scul- 
pture, or  whatever  other  defigning  Art. 
'Tis  the  fame  cafe,  where  Life  and  Man- 
ners are  concern'd.  Virtue  has  the  fame 
fix'd  Standard.  The  fame  Numbers,  Har- 
mony, and  Proportion  will  have  place  in 
Morals;  and  are  difcoverable  in  the 
CharaSiers  and  AffeBions  of  Mankind  ;  in 
which  are  laid  the  juft  Foundations  of  an 
Art  and  Science,  fuperior  to  every  other 
of  human  Pradice  and  Comprehenlion. 

Z  2  This, 


Advice  to  an  Author, 

T  H  I  s,  I  fuppofe  therefore,  is  highly  ne- 
ceflary,  that  a  Writer  {hou'd  comprehend. 
For  Things  are  flubborn,  and  will  not  be 
as  we  fanfy  'em,  or  as  the  Fafhion  varys, 
but  as  they  ftand  in  Nature.  Now  whether 
the  Writer  be  Po^/,  Philofopher,  or  of  what- 
ever kind ;  he  is  in  truth  no  other  than  a 
Copiji  after  Nature.  His  Style  may  be 
differently  futed  to  the  different  Times  he 
lives  in,  or  to  the  different  Humour  of  his 
Age  or  Nation :  His  Manner,  his  Drefs,  his 
Colouring  may  vary.  But  if  his  Drawing 
be  uncorredt,  or  his  Defign  contrary  to  Na- 
ture ;  his  Piece  will  be  found  ridiculous, 
when  it  comes  thorowly  to  be  examin'd. 
For  Nature  will  not  be  mock'd.  The  Pre- 
pofleffion  againft  her  can  never  be  very  lad- 
ing. Her  Decrees  and  InJiinBi  are  power- 
ful j  and  her  Sejatiments  in-bred.  She  has 
a  ftrong  Party  abroad  ;  and  as  flrong  a  one 
within  our-fehes :  And  when  any  Slight  is 
put  upon  her,  fhe  can  foon  turn  the  Re- 
proach, and  make  large  Reprifals  on  the 
Tajie  and  Judgment  of  her  Antagonifts. 

'.  Whatever  Philojbpher,  Criticky  or 
Author  is  convinc'd  of  this  Prerogative  of 
Nature^  will  eafily  be  perfuaded  to  apply 
himfelf  to  the  great  Work  of  reforming  his 
Taste;  which  he  will  have  reafon  to  fuf- 
pedt,  if  he  be  not  fuch  a  one  as  has  delibe- 
rately  endeavour'd  to  frame  it  by  the  juft 
«■  ■  *•  '  ■'  Standard 


Advice  to  an  Author.  355 

Standard  of  Nature.  Whether  this  be  hisSed.  3. 
Cafe,  he  will  eafily  difcover,  by  appealing  ^/^v'>^ 
to  his  Memory.  For  Cujiom  and  Fajhion 
are  powerful  Seducers :  And  he  muft  of 
neceflity  have  fought  hard  againft  thefe,  to 
have  attain'd  that  Juftnefs  of  Tafte^  which 
is  requir'd  in  one  who  pretends  to  follow 
Nature.  But  if  no  fuch  Conflict  can  be 
Call'd  to  mind  ;  'tis  a  certain  token  that  the 
iParty  has  his  T^afie  very  little  different  from 
the  Vulgar.  And  on  this  account  he  fhou'd 
inftantly  betake  himfelf  to  the  wholefom 
Practice  recommended  in  this  Treatife.  He 
fhou'd  fet  afoot  the  powerfuUelt  Faculiys 
of  his  Mind,  and  aflemble  the  beft  Forces 
of  his  Wit  and  Judgment,  in  order  to  make 
a  formal  Defcent  on  the  Territorys  of  the 
Heart :  refolving  to  decline  no  Combat, 
nor  hearken  to  any  Terms,  till  he  ha4 
pierc'd  into  its  inmoft  Provinces,  and 
reach'd  the  Seat  of  Empire.  No  Treatys 
{hou'd  amufe  him  ;  no  Advantages  lead  him 
afide.  All  other  Speculations  fliou'd  be  fuf- 
pended,  all  other  Myfterys  refign'd  j  till 
this  neceffary  Campaign  was  made,  and 
thefe  inward  Conflicts  learnt ;  by  which  he 
wou'd  be  able  to  gain  at  leaft  fome  tolera- 
ble infight  into  himfelf,  and  Knowledg  of 
his  own  natural  Principles, 


IT  MAY  here  perhaps  be  thought, 
that  notwithftanding  the  particular  Ad- 
I      \  Z  3  "^ice 


3  5^  Advice  to  an  Author. 

Part  3.'y/V^  we  have  given,  in  relation  to  the 
'^^V"^^'  forming  of  a  Taste  in  natural  Charadlers 
and  Manners  ;  vv^e  are  ftill  defedive  in  our 
Performance,  v^^hilft  we  are  filent  on  fuper- 
natural  Cafes,  and  bring  not  into  our  con- 
fideration  the  Manners  and  Charaders  deli- 
ver'd  us  in  Holy  Writ.  But  this  Gbjedtion 
will  foon  vanifh,  when  we  confider,  that 
there  can  be  no  Rules  given  by  human  Wit^ 
to  that  which  was  never  humanly  con- 
ceiv'd,  but  divinely  dilated,   and  infpir'd. 

'  For  this  Reafon,  *twou*d  be  in  vain 
for  any  *  Poet,  or  ingenious  Author,  to 
form  his  Charaders,  after  the  Models  of 
our  facred  Penmen.  And  whatever  cer^ 
tain  Criticks  may  have  advanc'd  concern- 
ing the  Structure  of  a  heroick  Poem  of 
this  kind  ;  I  will  be  bold  to  prophefy,  that 
the  Succefs  will  never  be  anfwerable  to 
Expedtation, 

It  muft  be  own'd,  that  in  our  facred 
Hillory  we  have  both  Leaders,  Conquerors, 
Founders  of  Nations,  Deliverers,  and  Pa- 
triots, who,  even  in  a  human  Senfe,  are  no- 
way behind  the  chief  of  thofe  fo  much  ce- 
lebrated by  the  Antients.  There  is  no- 
thing in  the  Story  of  ^neas,  which  is 
pot  equal'd  or  exceeded  by  aJosHUA  or 
a  Moses.  But  as  illuftrious  as  are  the 
A<^s    of  thefe  facred    Chiefs,    'twou'd  be 

*  y  PL.  III.  ^.240,241.  in  the  Notes. 

hard 


Advice  to  an  Author.  357 

hard  to  copy  them  in  jufl  Heroick.  'Twou'd  Sedt.  3 
be  hard  to  give  to  many  of 'em  that  grate-  Vo-^v^/ 
ful  Air,  which  is  neceflary  to  render  'em 
naturally  pleafing  to  Mankind;  according 
to  the  Idea  Men  are  univerfally  found  to 
have  of  Heroifniy  and  Generojity. 

Notwithstanding  the  pious  En- 
deavours which,  as  devout  Chriftians,  we 
may  have  us'd  in  order  to  feparate  our- 
felves  from  the  Interefts  of  mere  Heathens, 
and  Infidels 'y  notwithftanding  the  true  pains 
we  may  have  taken,  to  arm  our  Hearts 
in  behalf  of  a  chofen  People^  againft  their 
neighbouring  Nations,  of  a  falfe  Religion, 
and  Worfliip ;  there  will  be  ftill  found  fuch 
a  Partiality  remaining  in  us,  towards  Crea- 
tures of  the  fame  Make  and  Figure  with 
our-felves,  as  will  hinder  us  from  viewing 
with  Satisfadtion  the  Punifhments  inflidted 
by  human  Hands  on  fuch  Aliens  and  Ido- 
laters, 

I N  mere  Poetry,  and  the  Pieces  of  Wit 
and  Literature,  there  is  a  Liberty  of 
Thought  and  Eafmefs  of  Humour  indulg'd 
to  us,  in  which  perhaps  we  are  not  fo  well 
able  to  contemplate  the  Divine  Judgments, 
and  fee  clearly  into  the  Juftice  of  thofe 
JVaySy  which  are  declared  to  be  fo  ^zx  from 
our  Ways,  and  above  our  higheft  Thoughts 
or  Underflandings.  In  fuch  a  Situation  of 
Mind,  we  can  hardly  endure  to  fee  Heathen 
X  4  treated 


?5S 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


Part  3. treated  as  Heathen^  and  the  Faithful  made 
t^'^V^^the  Executioners  of  the  Divine  Wrath. 
There  is  a  certain  perverfe  Humanity  in 
us,  which  inwardly  refifts  the  Divine  Com- 
miffion,  tho  ever  fo  plainly  reveal'd.  The 
Wit  of  the  bed  Poet  is  not  fufficient  to 
reconcile  us  to  the  Campaign  of  a  J  o  s  h  u a, 
or  the  Retreat  of  a  Moses,  by  the  aflif- 
tance  of  an  Egyptian  Loajt.  Nor  will 
it  be  poiTible,  by  the  MuJ'es  Art,  to  make 
that  Royal  Hero  appear  amiable  in  human 
Eyes,  who  found  fuch  Favour  in  the  Eye 
of  Heaven.  Such  are  mere  human  Hearts, 
that  they  can  hardly  find  the  leaft  Sympa- 
thy with  that  only  one  wliich  had  the 
Charader  of  being  after  the  Pattern  of 
the  Almighty's. 

*Tis  apparent  therefore  that  the  Man- 
ners, Adlions,  and  Charadlers  of  Sacred 
Writy  are  in  no  wife  the  proper  Subjed:  of 
other  Authors  than  Divines  themfelves. 
They  are  Matters  incomprehenfible  in  Phi- 
lofophy :  They  are  above  the  pitch  of  the 
mere  hum.an  Hijlorian^  the  Politician^  or 
the  Moraliji ;  and  are  too  facred  to  be  fub- 
mitted  to  the  Poefs  Fancy,  when  infpir'd 
by  no  other  Spirit  than  that  of  his  pro- 
fane Miflreffes,  /)6^  Mu s  E  s. 

I  siiou'd  be  unwilling  to  examine  rlgo- 
j'oufly  the  Performance  of  our  great  *  Poet, 

*  Milton, 

who 


Advice  to  an  Author.  359 

who  fung  fo  pioufly  the  Fall  of  Man.  TheSeft.  3* 
fFar  in  Heaven,  and  the  Catajirophe  ofW^V^ 
that  original  Pair  from  whom  the  Genera- 
tions of  Mankind  were  propagated,  are 
Matters  fo  abftrufely  reveal'd,  and  with 
fuch  a  refemblance  of  Mythologjy  that  they 
can  more  eafily  bear  what  figurative  Con- 
ftrudtion  or  fantaftick  Turn  the  Poet  may 
think  fit  to  give  'em.  But  fhou'd  he  ven- 
ture farther,  into  the  Lives  and  Charac- 
ters of  the  Patriarchs,  the  holy  Matrons, 
Heroes  and  Heroines  of  the  chofen  Seed ; 
fhou'd  he  employ  the  facred  Machine,  the 
Exhibitions  and  Interventions  of  Divinity, 
according  to  Holy  Writ,  to  fupport  the 
A5iion  of  his  Piece  ;  he  wou'd  foon  find 
the  Weaknefs  of  his  pretended  Orthodox 
Muse,  and  prove  how  little  thofe  Divine 
Patterns  were  capable  of  human  Imitation, 
or  of  being  rais'd  to  any  other  Majefty, 
or  Sublime,  than  that  in  which  they  origi- 
nally appear. 

The  iToeology,  or  T  h  e  o  g  o  n  y,  o^  the 
Heathens  cou'd  admit  of  fuch  different  Turns 
and  figurative  Expreffions,  as  futed  the  Fan- 
cy and  Judgment  of  each  Philofopher  or 
Poet.  But  the  Purity  of  our  Faith  will 
admit  of  no  fuch  Variation.  The  Chrif- 
tian  Theologyj  the  Birth,  Proce- 
dure, Generation,  and  perfonal  DiftinBion 
of  the  Divinity,  are  Myfterys  only 
to  be  determin'd  by  the  initiated,  or  or- 
I  daind\ 


j6o 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


Part  2,-daiTid;  to  whom  the  State  has  affign'd 
C/V^the  Guardianfhip  and  Promulgation  of  the 
Divine  Oracles.  It  becomes  not  thofe 
who  are  un-infpir*d  from  Heaven,  and 
un-commiflion'd  from  Earth,  to  fearch 
with  Curiofity  into  the  Original  of  thofe 
holy  Rites  and  Records,  by  Law  ejia- 
blifi'd.  Should  we  make  fuch  an  Attempt, 
we  {hould  in  probability  find  the  lels  Sa- 
tisfaction, the  further  we  prefum'd  to  carry 
our  Speculations.  Having  dar'd  once  to 
quit  the  Authority  and  Direction  of  the 
Law,  we  fhou'd  eafily  be  fubjed:  to  Hete~ 
rodoxy  and  Error,  when  we  had  no  better 
Warrant  left  us  for  the  Authority  of  our 
facred  Symbols,  than  the  Integrity, 
Candour,  and  Difintereflednefs  of  their 
Compiler Sy  and  Regifters.  How  great  that 
Candour  and  Difintereflednefs  may  have 
been,  we  have  no  other  Hiflorys  to  inform 
us,  than  thofe  of  their  own  licenfing  or 
compofing.  But  bufy  Pcrfons,  who  ofH- 
cioufly  fearch  into  thefe  Records,  are  rea- 
dy even  from  hence  to  draw  Proofs  very 
difadvantageous  to  the  Fame  and  Charadtcr 
of  this  Succejjion  of  Men.  And  Perfons 
moderately  read  in  thefe  Hiflorys,  are  apt 
to  judg  no  otherwife  of  the  Temper  of 
antient  Councils,  than  by  that  of  later  Sy- 
nods and  modern  Convocations, 

When  we  add  to  this  the  melancholy 
Confideration  of  what  Diflurbances  have 

been 


Advice  to  an  Author.  j($i 

been  rais'd  from  the  Difputes  of  this  kind  jSedt.  3. 
what  Effufion  of  Blood,  what  Devafta-t^'V^ 
tions  of  Provinces,  what  Shock  and  Ruia 
of  Empires  have  been  occafion'd  by  Con- 
troverfys,  founded  on  the  niceft  Diftinc- 
tion  of  an  Article  relating  to  thefe  Myjle^ 
rys ;  'twill  be  judg'd  vain  in  any  Poet,  or 
polite  Author,  to  think  of  rendring  him- 
felf  agreeable,  or  entertaining,  whilft  he 
makes    fuch   Subjeds  as    thefe   to   be  his 

But  tho  the  Explanation  of  iiich  deep 
Myfterys,  and  religious  Dutys,  be  allotted 
as  the  peculiar  Province  of  the  facred  Or- 
der ;  'tis  prefum'd,  nevertheless,  that  it 
may  be  lawful  for  other  Authors  to  retain 
their  antient  Privilege  of  inftrudling  Man- 
kind, in  a  way  of  Pleafure,  and  Enter- 
tainment. Toets  may  be  allow'd  their 
Fictions,  and  Philofophers  their  Syftems. 
'Twou'd  go  hard  with  Mankind,  fhou'd 
the  Patentees  for  Religion  be  commiflion'd 
for  all  Inftrudion  and  Advice,  relating'  to 
Manners,  or  Converf^tion.  ""The  Stage  may 
be  allow'd  to  inftrudt,  as  well  as  the  Pulpit, 
The  way  of  JVit  and  Humour  may  be  fcr- 
viceable,  as  well  as  that  of  Gravity  and 
Serioujhefs :  And  the  way  of  plain  Reafon 
as  well  as  that  of  exalted  Revelation.  The 
main  matter  is  to  keep  thefe  Provinces 
diftind:,  and  fettle  their  juft  Boundarys. 
^nd  on  this  account  it  is  that  we  have  en- 

deavour'd 


3^2 


Advice  to  an  Author. 


Part  3.deavour'd  to   reprefent  to  modern  Authors 
b'^Y^  the  neceffity  of  making  this  Separation  juil- 
ly,  and  in  due  form. 

'T  w  o  u  L  D  be  fomewhat  hard,  methinks, 
if  Religion,  as  by  haw  *  ejiablijh*d, 
were  not  allow'd  the  fame  Privilege  as  H  e- 
RALDRY.  'Tis  agreed  on  all  hands,  that 
particular  Perfons  may  defign  or  paint,  in 
their  private  Capacity,  after  what  manner 
they  think  fit :  But  they  muft  blazon  only 
as  the  Publick  directs.  Their  Lion  or 
Bear  muft  be  figur'd  as  the  Science  ap- 
points ;  and  their  Supporters  and  Creji  muft 
be  fuch  as  their  wife  and  gallant  Anceftors 
have  procur'd  for  'em.  No  matter  whe- 
ther the  Shapes  of  thefe  Animals  hold  juft 
Proportion  with  Nature.  No  matter  tho 
different  or  contrary  Forms  are  join'd  in 
one.  That  which  is  deny'd  to  Pai?2ters, 
or  Poets,  is  permitted  to  H e  r  a  l  d  s.  Na- 
turalijls  may,  in  their  feparate  and  diftindt 
Capacity,  inquire,  as  they  think  fit,  into 
the  real  Exiftence  and  natural  Truth  of 
Things :  But  they  muft  by  no  means  dis- 
pute the  authoriz'd  Forms.  Mermaids  and 
Griffins  were  the  Wonder  of  our  Fore- 
fathers ;  and,  as  fuch,  deliver'd  down  to 
us  by  the  authentick  Traditions  and  Deli- 
neations above-mention'd.  We  ought  not 
fo  much  as  to  criticize  the  Features  or  Di- 

*  VOL. III.  /•  71, 231, 337. 

menfions 


Advice  to  an  Author.  -^6^ 

menfions  of  a  Saracen's  Face,  brought  bySeft.  3. 
our  conquering  Anceftors  from  the  holy'-«^V\^ 
Wars ;  nor  pretend  to  call  in  queftion  the 
Figure  or  Size  of  a  Dragoity  on  which  the 
Hiftory  of  our  national  Champion,  and  the 
Eftabliftiment  of  a  high  Order^  and  Dignity 
of  the  Realm,  depends. 

B  u  T  5s  worfliipful  as  are  the  Perfons  of 
the  illuftrious  Heralds  Clarencieux, 
Garter,  and  the  reft  of  thofe  eminent 
Suftainers  of  Britip  Honour,  and  Anti- 
quity ;  'tis  to  be  hop'd  that  in  a  more  ci- 
viliz'd  Age,  fuch  as  at  prefent  we  have  the 
good  fortune  to  live  in,  they  will  not  at- 
tempt to  ftrain  their  Privileges  to  the  fame 
height  as  formerly.  Having  been  reduc'd 
by  Law,  or  fettled  Practice,  from  the  Power 
they  once  enjoy'd,  they  will  not,  'tis  pre- 
fum'd,  in  defiance  of  the  Magiftrate  and 
Civil  Power,  ereft  anew  their  Stages,  and 
Lifts,  introduce  the  manner  of  civil  Com- 
bat, fet  us  to  Tilt  and  Turnament,  and 
raife  again  thofe  Defiances,  and  mortal 
Frays,  of  which  their  Order  were  once  the 
chief  Managers,  and  Promoters. 


TO  CONCLUDE:  The  only  Me- 
thod which  can  juftly  qualify  us  for  this 
high  Privilege  of  giving  Advice,  is,  in 
the  firft  place,  to  receive  it,  our-fehes,  with 
due  Submiflion ;    where    the  Fuhlick   has 

vouchfat'd 


j<$4  Advice  to  an  Author.  - 

Part  3.vouchraf'd    to   give   it   us,    by  Authority. 

^^'V^^  And  if  in  our  private  Capacity,  we  can 
have  Refolution  enough  to  criticize  our- 
felves,  and  call  in  queftion  our  high  Imagi- 
nations, florid  Defires,  and  fpecious  Senti- 
ments, according  to  the  manner  of  Soli- 
loquy above  prefcrib'd  j  we  (hall,  by  the 
natural  courfe  of  things,  as  we  grow  wifer, 
prove  lefs  conceited  5  and  introduce  into 
our  Charader  that  Modejiy^  Condefcenfion, 
and  jufl  Humanity  which  is  effential  to  the 
Succefs  of  all  friendly  Cou7iJel  and  Admoni- 
tion. An  honeft  Home  -Philosophy 
muft  teach  us  the  wholefom  Pradice  with- 
in our-felves.  Polite  Reading,  and  Con- 
*verfe  with  Mankind  of  the  better  fort,  will 
qualify  us  for  what  remains. 


The  End  of  the  Firji  Volume. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARV  PA! 


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