TO Mr. HUNGERFORD.

I Deſire you not to give your ſelf the Trouble to ſend any Boat from the Coun⯑try to-morrow for your Humble Servant. If I find my ſelf in a Condition to make you a Viſit, I will riſe betimes in the Morning and walk. But I am afraid to venture the cold of the Water ſo early in the Morning. Next to the cold of the Water I dread the Heat after I come on Shore. I dread the Company which you too often keep there who are apt to be exceſſively warm in a falſe and fooliſh Cauſe.

If any one has a mind to be ſatisfy'd of this, he need only repair to a certain Man⯑ſion, where they meet about three times a Week to endeavour to talk wiſely together▪ and where they never fail to diſcover great⯑er Weakneſs than they were capable of when they were Boys. For which of them▪ when they were but ten Years of Age [281] would not have choſen at any time to have plaid, rather than to have been under the Laſh at School? It was Nature's Voice that made them prefer gay Liberty to mourn⯑ful Slavery. When they were Boys it was with great Reluctance that they were obedient to Age and Gravity, that govern'd them for their Good; and now the Sots are growing old, they long to have a Younker who will certainly ruine them, for their ab⯑ſolute Maſter. They are every Day en⯑deavouring to prove that they are Beaſts, and belong to that Younker as his unalien⯑able and indefeaſible Chattels, that he has even a Right Divine, that is a Commiſſion ſign'd by God, to uſe them like errant Dogs; not like Engliſh Bull-Dogs, for they are generous Creatures, and will fly in the Face of any one who dares to uſe them ill; but like errant Spaniels, who the more they are beaten the more they crouch and the more they fawn upon their Tyrannick Ma⯑ſters. I will ſay nothing of the Buſineſs concerning which you wrote to me till I wait on you, and am

TO Mr. R * * *

I Deſire that you would give your ſelf no trouble about the drinking Quaker. For I find upon Reflection, that ſince I volun⯑tarily gave up the Note, 'tis below me to demand the Debt.

'Tis true indeed, the Note was given up when there was little Hope of his paying the Money; and he has now, beyond all Ex⯑pectation, an Eſtate left him. 'Tis true likewiſe, that the Money was lent in his preſſing Neceſſity, and lent in order to do him a ſignal Kindneſs, which it actually did; and 'tis as true that I, who lent him the Money, had often before and have often ſince, both fed him hungry and cloath'd him naked. The Note was given up with a Promiſe that he ſhould pay the Money if ever he came to be able; for which I then told him, that I depended on his Ho⯑nour and his Integrity. But notwithſtand⯑ing all this, if he has not one Spark of Con⯑ſcience [283] or common Honeſty, which may oblige him to pay this Money of his own Accord, I ought to have Generoſity enough not to demand the Debt. 'Tis true, this would vex ſome People in my Caſe. But I conſider that perhaps the poor Wretch cannot help it, for as 'tis in my Nature to oblige, 'tis in his to be ungrateful. But then on the other ſide, as 'tis in his Nature to know no Friend, to own no Benefactor, and to ſerve no God but Intereſt, 'tis in mine heartily to ſcorn ſuch a Raſcal, and the vile God whom he ſerves.

To * * * * Eſq
Upon the firſt publiſhing the Guardians.

NOT being able to come, I write to you, reſolving to be with you one way or other. As ſoon as you left me Ye⯑ſterday I ſent for all the Guardians which are publiſh'd; and while the Meſſenger was gone for them, I was trying to divine what ſort of ſcribbling Fit had ſeiz'd upon Teague this Bout, whether it might be a Quotidi⯑an as in the Spectator, or a Tertian as in the Tatler, for I pray'd to Heav'n to defend us from a Quartan, becauſe that might make Dulneſs laſting. Upon the Arrival of the Pa⯑pers I found that it was a Quotidian, not with⯑out Joy; for old Hippocrates tells us ſome⯑where, that tho' a Quotidian proceeds for the moſt part from Phlegm, yet is it of no long Continuance. I perceive by the Beginning of the ſecond Paper, that Teague has chang'd both his Name and his Coun⯑try, being, as I ſuppoſe, aſham'd of the lat⯑ter. But the Miſchief of it is, that he ſhews the true one by the adopted one, [285] he latter being almoſt as ridiculous a one as the former. He was born, he tells us, [...] a lone Houſe within half a Mile of the Metropolis of the two Kings of Brentford. [...] make no doubt but that the more he di⯑ſcovers himſelf, the more he will verify the old Saying, Regis ad exemplum, or, Like So⯑vereigns like Subjects. And now a Word [...]o his adopted Name too; Neſtor Iron⯑ſide, Eſq For what Reaſon he took that Chriſtian Heathen Name Neſtor, I can⯑not imagine, unleſs he thought that that wiſe Name would ſet off his Folly and make it look more ridiculous. But Teague apparently took the Sir-name from his real Hyberni⯑in Appellation, or the inflexible Obſtinacy of his own Temper. As I have the extra⯑ordinary Honour to be acquainted with him, I am about to write a learned Letter to him; in which I deſign to reproach him little for his too conſtant Gravity in his [...]ew Production, and to let him know that Squire Ironſide is too grave and too ſerious [...] Offspring of his ludicrous Anceſtors, [...]hat the Reader complains that he meets with nothing at all to divert him in it, no Conſort of Muſical Inſtruments playing up⯑ [...]n one another, not ſo much as a Couple [...] Pipes broke by the violent Agitation of [...] Jig at his Neighbour's Houſe, nor any waggiſh Enumeration of the ſeveral Bran⯑ [...]es of the Noble Family of the Sides, as [286] that fine facetious Perſon his Grandfather number'd, but with a wonderful deal of Wit I muſt needs ſay, the ſeveral Branches of the Staffian Race, which Neglect, or which Delay I ſhall boldly tell him that his nu⯑merous Relations take very ill; that Sir Hector Backſide makes a Noiſe about it; that that old Tarpawlin Bully Broadſide roars at it; Mr. Humphrey Wrongſide grumbles at it; Mr. Abraham Weakſide is much diſſatisfied; even waggiſh Jack Fire⯑ſide takes it amiſs, and his own Name⯑ſake Neſtor Blindſide will never be Friends with him more. I ſhall let him know that even the Females of his adopted Race reſent it; that the courteous Lady Mrs. Cheapſide receives no ſmall Diſ⯑quiet from it; that that well-diſpos'd Laſs Mrs. Bedſide very much complains of it; that that obſtreperous Carrion Moll Waterſide ſtuns the Ears of all that ap⯑proach her with it; and that that impu⯑dent Jade Doll Commonſide has her Back as high as her Belly about it.

But you muſt know, Sir, that this ardu⯑ous Undertaking is not carryed on by Teague alone, but by a Triple League. I ſhall give you an Account of the two other Confederates by the firſt Oppor⯑tunity.

TO Mr. WALTER WEST.

I Return you my hearty Thanks for your friendly Endeavours to ſerve me on Sa⯑turday, but am amaz'd at the Brutality of that Captain of Farce [...]; who not only refus'd to witneſs the Receipt, but to open my Letter; ſaying, that it was out of his Sphere. I muſt confeſs a Brute acts in a narrow Sphere, and Civility and Hu⯑manity are out of that Sphere. If it were any other Perſon but Captain [...], one would find him out, after this Af⯑front, ſerve him as Hudibras did Whachum, and attack the Apartment of Honour in him.

But the Captain is a privileg'd Perſon, and what he does, like what he ſays, is only fit to be laugh'd at. But as his Folly and infinite Baſeneſs are only fit for Contempt: Your Generoſity and Humanity merit all my Eſteem, and have oblig'd me to be al⯑ways,

TO Mr. JAC. TON. Sen.
On the Conſpiracy againſt the Repu⯑tation of Mr. DRYDEN.

WHEN I had the good Fortune to meet you in the City, it was with Concern that I heard from you of the At⯑tempt to leſſen the Reputation of Mr. Dry⯑den; and 'tis with Indignation that I have ſince learnt that that Attempt has chiefly been carried on by ſmall Poets, who un⯑gratefully ſtrive to eclipſe the Glory of a great Man, from whom alone they derive their own faint Luſtre. But that Eclipſe will be as Momentary as that of the Sun was lately. The Reputation of Mr. Dry⯑den will ſoon break out again in its full Splendor, and theirs will diſappear. It was upon hearing of this A'ttempt that I reflected with ſome Amazement, that I [290] ſhould have got the Reputation of an ill-na⯑tur'd Man, by expoſing the Abſurdities of living Authors; and Authors for the moſt part of great Mediocrity, tho' I have always done it openly and fairly, and upon juſt and perſonal Provocations; and that theſe ſhould baſely arraign the Reputation of a great Man deceas'd, who now can make no An⯑ſwer for himſelf, and upon whom they fawn'd while living, and ſhould yet eſcape uncenſur'd. But when I heard that that Attempt was in favour of [...], 'tis impoſſi⯑ble to expreſs to what a height my Indignati⯑on and Diſdain were rais'd. Good God! was there ever any Nation in which (I will not ſay a falſe Taſte, for we never had a true one, but in which) a wrong Senſe and a fatal Deluſion ſo generally prevail'd! For have not too many of us lately appear'd to contemn every thing that is great and glo⯑rious, and to praiſe and exalt every thing that is baſe and infamous? Have not too many of us ſhewn to all the World, by a manifeſt execrable Choice, that they prefer Weakneſs to Power, Folly to Wiſdom, Poverty to Wealth, Fury and Madneſs to Moderation, Infamy to Glory, Submiſſion to Victory, Slavery to Liberty, Idolatry to Religion, the Duke of O. to the D. of M the Pretender to the Royal George our only rightful King, and Mr. [...] to Mr Dryden? If I appear too warm, I hope you [291] will excuſe my Affection for the Memory, and my Zeal for the Reputation of my de⯑parted Friend, whom I infinitely eſteem'd when living for the Solidity of his Thought, for the Spring, the Warmth, and the beau⯑tiful Turn of it; for the Power, and Vari⯑ety, and Fulneſs of his Harmony; for the Purity, the Perſpicuity, the Energy of his Ex⯑preſſion; and (whenever the following great Qualities are requir'd) for the Pomp and Solemnity and Majeſty of his Style.

You may now ſee, Sir, by this Letter, how little moſt Men know one another, who converſe daily together. How many were there in Mr. Dryden's Life-time, who endeavour'd to make him believe, that I ſhould be the foremoſt, if I ſurviv'd him, of all his Acquaintance to arraign his Me⯑mory; whereas I am he of all his Acquain⯑tance, who, tho' I flatter'd him leaſt while living, having been contented to do him Juſtice both behind his Back and before his Enemies Face, am now the foremoſt to aſ⯑ſert his Merit, and to vindicate his Glory.

If Mr. Dryden has Faults, (as where is the Mortal who has none?) I by ſearching for them perhaps could find them. But what⯑ever the miſtaken World may think, I am always willing to be pleas'd, nay, am always greedy of Pleaſure as any Epicurean living; and whenever I am naturally touch'd, I give my ſelf up to the firſt Impreſſion, and [292] never look for Faults. But whenever a cried-up Author, upon the firſt reading him, does not make a pleaſing Impreſſion on me; I am apt to ſeek for the Reaſon of it, that I may know if the Fault is in him or in me. Wherever Genius runs thro' a Work, I for⯑give its Faults, and wherever that is want⯑ing no Beauties can touch me. Being ſtruck by Mr. Dryden's Genius, I have no Eyes for his Errors; and I have no Eyes for his Enemies Beauties, becauſe I am not ſtruck by their Genius.

To Mr. * * *

AS I came Home in the Coach on Friday Night, I ruminated upon the Paſſage in Mr. Waller's Verſes to my Lord Roſcommon, and found indeed that the Words are not ſtrictly reconcileable to Purity of Engliſh and Grammar; but then there are ſeveral Paſſages in Virgil and Horace, which are as little in the com⯑paſs of a regular Conſtruction; for Exam⯑ple, that in the Eclogues,

And that Paſſage in the fifth of the Aeneis, where Niſus ſays to Aeneas

Where merui is certainly for meruiſſem, and ſo Virgil makes bold not only with the Mood but the Tenſe. For my Part, I am for preſerving the Purity of Language ev'n in the boldeſt Flights of Poetry, but then I am apt to be indulgent to the Faults of great Maſters, not only becauſe they are few, but in Conſideration of the Pleaſure which they have otherwiſe given me. He would be but an ill-natur'd Man, who af⯑ter having had the Pleaſure of enjoying a fine Woman, ſhould fall to finding Fault with her Moles, or ſome other Blemiſhes, which perhaps after all, are only ſo many Shadows to ſet off her raviſhing Beauties.

I was not a little ſurpriz'd at the Queſti⯑on, whether Mr. Waller's Verſes to Amo⯑ret mov'd me. What if they dont? Is there not the pulchrum as well as the dul⯑ce in Poetry? But Horace, perhaps, you'll ſay, is for having them both in the ſame Poem.

[295] But then he is certainly ſpeaking of Trage⯑dy, otherwiſe he muſt damn moſt of his own Odes. For ev'n of thoſe which are writ to Women, there is but one which has a great deal of Tenderneſs; and yet moſt o; the reſt are undoubtedly very fine. After all, the pulchrum in Poetry moves as certainly as the dulce, but then the firſt moves the Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions, as the latter does the vulgar ones. Yet to come at laſt cloſe to the Queſtion, the Verſes to Amoret move even the vulgar Paſſions in me, as they ought to do: It being impoſſible to take a Survey in them of Mr. Waller's Good-nature, and his Gratitude, without pitying and loving him.

To the EXAMINER.
Upon his wiſe Paper of the Tenth of January, 1710/1.

IT was upon the fourth of this inſtant February that I was perſuaded by ſome of my Acquaintance to peruſe thy Paper of the tenth of January, in which, as they told me, it was ſurmis'd by ſeveral, that you pretended to father upon me the Let⯑ter called the Engliſhman's Thanks to the Duke of Marlborough. It was the ſecond of thy Papers that I ever read, tho' I have handled ſeveral of them. Thou ſeem'ſt to have a great Genius for Water Language, and to be aiming at the Poſt and Reputati⯑on of Water Orator, which thou wilt fill as worthily, as Taylour did that of Water Poet. But tell me truly, what does thy Execrability mean? From whence this Pride, this Inſolence, this Arrogance? What haſt thou ſaid, what haſt thou writ, what haſt thou done, to give thee the leaſt Shadow of a Pretence to it? Art thou ſuch an Ide⯑ot to be of Opinion, that thou art the only soul-mouth'd Fellow in England? Is it ſo [297] hard a matter, think'ſt thou, to cry Block⯑head, ſtupid Head, the moſt inſipid and con⯑temptible of Mankind? Is there any Thought, any Invention, any Underſtanding of thine requiſite for the making uſe of theſe Flow⯑ers of Rhetorick? Is not a Joker in a long party-colour'd Coat as capable of all this as a Joker in a long black Coat? Thou ſay'ſt that I ſhall die without knowing that I am the moſt inſipid and contemptible of all Hu⯑man Creatures. Thou art in the right of it; I ſhall die without knowing any thing of this, tho' I live to the Age of Methuſalem, if I hear it from none but thee and ſuch ſcribling Slaves as thou art. But thou, be⯑fore thou dieſt, wilt know a great deal worſe than this of thy ſelf. Before thou dieſt, thou wilt know that thou art the moſt in⯑ſipid, the vileſt and moſt contemptible, I will not ſay of all Human Creatures, for Reaſon thou never hadſt, and Humanity thou haſt long diſclaim'd, but the vileſt and moſt contemptible of all Dogs; for tho' the reſt of thy Species bark like thee at the worthieſt of Men who are Strangers to them, and crouch and fawn like thee up⯑on the vileſt of Men whom they know, yet no Dog but thy ſelf did ever firſt fawn and crouch, and afterwards bark, and bite, and betray; no, never any Dog was ſo vile be⯑fore as to fawn upon a Maſter thro' two Kingdoms, and afterwards to fly at his Throat.

[298] Thus have I ſhewn thee what thou art, and while thou art reading each Period of this, thy Conſcience will be thy Check, and will heartily cry Amen to it. As for me, thou art not to be told, that I have the Ap⯑probation, and Applauſe, and Eſteem of thy Maſters; thy Maſters, who uſe thee like a common Whore, abhor and deteſt thee while they uſe thee, and will command their Servants to kick thee out of Doors as ſoon as the Luſt of their Ambition is ſa⯑tisfied.

I thank my God I am altogether a Stran⯑ger to thy Perſon, but give me leave to ſhew thee, how inſipid and contemptible thou art as an Author. Inſipid Panegyriſts are they who praiſe with general Compli⯑ments and thread-bare Commendations, Compliments which are equally applicable to all Subjects, and to uſe which demanded neither Imagination nor Judgment. And 'tis theſe Panegyriſts that have been chiefly the Marks of Boileau's judicious and ge⯑nerous Satyrs. Inſipid Libellers are they who uſe general Injuries and Billinſgate De⯑famations, and which the erranteſt Fool may ſpeak of the moſt illuſtrious Perſon, as ea⯑ſily as a Dog can bark at the Moon. Thou art one of thoſe inſipid Libellers, and art by ſo much more odious and more deſpi⯑cable than an inſipid Panegyriſt, by how much a Blockhead with Ill-nature is more [299] hateful and more contemptible than a Fool with good Humour.

The inſipid Reproaches which thou uſeſt, have been utter'd a thouſand times by thy ſelf of a thouſand different Perſons. But I ſhall ſay that of thee, which every one cannot ſay, and ſhall ſay what can be ſaid of none but thy execrable ſelf alone; and when I have dragg'd thee from the lurking Hole, to which thy baſe Fears have condemn'd thee, (for thou never hadſt Senſe enough to have Shame) and expos'd thee to the open Light, that is to eternal Infamy, then let the World judge who is the inſipid and who the contemptible.

By thy Impudence, thy Ignorance, thy ſophiſtical arguing, thy pedantick declama⯑tory Style, and thy brutal Billinſgate Lan⯑guage thou canſt be none but ſome illite⯑rate Pedant, who has liv'd twenty Years in an Univerſity; by thy being a turbu⯑lent hot-brain'd Incendiary, a hot-brain'd Incendiary with a cool Heart, one may eaſily gueſs at the Univerſity which gave thee thy Education. By thy wonderful Charity, thou canſt be nothing but a ſcandalous Prieſt, hateful to God and de⯑teſtable to Men, and agreeable to none but Devils, who makeſt it thy Buſineſs to foment Diviſions between Communities and private Perſons, in ſpight of that Cha⯑rity which is the fundamental Doctrine of [300] that Religion which thou pretendſt to teach. How amazing a Reflection is it, that, in ſpight of that Divine Doctrine, the Chriſtian World ſhould be the only part of the Globe embroil'd in endleſs Diviſions. From whence can this proceed, but from Prieſts like thee, who are the Peſts of Society and the Bane of Religion. But 'tis not enough to ſay thou art a Prieſt, 'tis time to point out what Prieſt thou art. Thou art a Prieſt then who mad'ſt thy firſt Appearance in the World like a dry Joker in Controverſy, a ſpiritual Buffoon, an Eccleſiaſtical Jack Pudding, by publiſhing a Piece of waggiſh Divinity, which was writ with a Deſign to banter all Chriſtianity; yes, thou nobly be⯑gan'ſt, as Judas Iſcariot ended; began'ſt by crucifying thy God afreſh, and ſelling him to John Nutt for ten Pound and a Crown, and ſo under-ſelling half in half thy execra⯑ble Predeceſſor. Hadſt thou but had half his common Senſe, thou hadſt had his Re⯑morſe and conſequently his Deſtiny; inſtead of which thou fell'ſt from ſelling and be⯑traying thy God to ſelling and betraying thy old Friends. So that hadſt thou liv'd in the time of Judas, thou wouldſt infi⯑nitely have ſurpſs'd him in Villany, thou woulſt have betray'd both Chriſt and all his Apoſtles, nay, wouldſt have undermin'd, and underſold, and betray'd even Judas the Be⯑trayer himſelf.

[301] When thou wert come piping hot from betraying both Friends and God, thou wert often heard to cry moſt impudently, but moſt truly, out, that the Church was in Dan⯑ger. Any one may ſwear, when it has ſuch Prieſts, that 'tis not in Danger, but upon the very brink of Ruine; and that if it were not ſupported by God himſelf, it would immediately tumble.

Yet 'tis hard to be angry with ſuch a Miſcreant, when I reflect, that he who has us'd me ſo, has us'd his God worſe. For thou haſt denyed his very Being; which is to degrade him below the meaneſt of his own Creatures, not only below Fools and Ideots, but even below Vermin, Inſects, Mites, and all the Creatures of the materi⯑al inviſible World, even below the Exami⯑ner. For Nothing muſt always be leſs than Something, let Something be never ſo little.

Thou haſt fall'n upon me with the Rage of a mad Dog or a Mohock; not becauſe thou hadſt any Provocation, but becauſe thy Madneſs made thee believe that the firſt thing that came in thy way, was the Cauſe of thy Uneaſineſs. Nothing is more certain than that I knew nothing of the Let⯑ter to the Duke of Marlborough till the fourteenth of this inſtant February, which, according to thy own Account, was five Weeks after it was publiſh'd. I ſhall live to ſee thee cry Penny Papers, before thou [302] wilt ſee me write them. Yet if I had writ that Paper I would boldly have own'd it, in ſpight of thee and of all thy Abettors. What, ſhall I be afraid or aſham'd to com⯑mend the greateſt Man upon Earth, when thou art neither afraid nor aſham'd moſt baſe⯑ly to calumniate him? But go on in the Courſe thou art in, I cannot wiſh thee a greater Curſe. Go on to calumniate and to vilify all that is truly great and illuſtrious, and to flatter and to extoll all that is vile and de⯑ſpicable. Whatever Thoughts thou either haſt, or wouldſt ſeem to have, of me, I would have thee to know, that God and Nature have placed me infinitely above do⯑ing thy baſe Drudgery, and being the con⯑temptible execrable Tool of any Party what⯑ever. If it be true that a Kingdom divided againſt it ſelf ſhall not ſtand, if inteſtine Di⯑viſion be the Flaw that lets in Death to a mighty Nation, what Damnation muſt that wholeſale Cut-throat deſerve, who makes it the ſole Buſineſs of his Life to incenſe one miſerable Half againſt the unfortunate other? Yet this I'll ſay for thee, that tho' thou art the worſt of Murderers in thy Heart, yet Thanks to thy Impotence thy Hands are entirely free; and what Dry⯑den maliciouſly ſaid of Shadwell, is truly ap⯑plicable to none but thee. And ſo I bid thee heartily farewell.

To the Right Honourable the Earl of HALIFAX.

WHEN I heard of the new Honours with which the King had diſtin⯑guiſh'd your Merit and acknowledg'd your Services, there was not one of your Lord⯑ſhip's humble Servants who receiv'd the happy Tidings with more Joy than my ſelf If any thing temper'd that Joy, it was the Concern that I was not able to wait on your Lordſhip to congratulate you, ſo ſoon as the reſt.

If ever I can be able to do important Ser⯑vice to my Country, which has been all a⯑long the darling Paſſion of my Life, it muſt be under your Lordſhip's Adminiſtration▪ For I never yet could attend upon any Mi⯑niſter of State with Inclination and Plea⯑ſure but your ſelf. If your Lordſhip wil [...] grant me the Honour, from time to time▪ [359] to let me write my Thoughts freely to you, I ſhall endeavour to manage that Privilege with ſo much Diſcretion, that your Lord⯑ſhip ſhall not repent of it; and I ſhall not be utterly in Deſpair of doing ſome Service to the Publick.

To the SPECTATOR, upon his Paper on the 16th of April.

YOU know, Mr. Spectator, that Eſquire Bickerſt aff attack'd the Sharpers with Succeſs; but Shadwell is of Opinion that your Bully with his Box and his falſe Dice is an honeſter Fellow than the Rhetorical Author, who makes uſe of his Tropes and Figures, which are his High and his Low⯑runners, to cheat us at once of our Money and of our Intellectuals.

I would not have you think, Mr. Specta⯑tor, that this Reflection is directed to you: 'Tis only intended againſt one or two of your Correſpondents, and particularly the Inns-of Court-man, who, as you told us in your Se⯑cond Paper, ſupplies you with moſt of your Criticiſm: who ſeems to me ſo little to un⯑derſtand the Province that he has underta⯑ken, that you would do well to adviſe him to do by you as he has done by his Father, and make a Bargain in the groſs with ſome honeſt Fellow to anſwer all your Occaſions. Which wholeſome Advice if he proves too obſtinate or too proud to take; I am confi⯑dent [408] at leaſt that he is too gallant a Perſon to take it ill if once a Week or once a Fort⯑night I ſhould ſhew ſo much Preſumption as to cauſe a Writ of Error to be iſſued out to reverſe his Temple-Judgment.

I cannot wonder that Criticiſm ſhould de⯑generate ſo vilely at a time when Poetry and Acting are ſunk ſo low. For as Hobbes has obſerv'd, that as often as Reaſon is againſt a Man, a Man will be againſt Reaſon; ſo as often as the Rules are againſt an Author, an Author will be againſt the Rules. Men firſt write fooliſh ridiculous Tragedies, which ſhock all the Rules of Reaſon and Philoſo⯑phy, and then they make fooliſh extravagant Rules to fit thoſe fooliſh Plays. 'Tis impoſ⯑ſible that your Gentleman of the Inns-of-Court could have ſent you ſo much wrong Senſe as there is in your Paper of the 16th, if he had not formerly writ an abſurd Tra⯑gedy. There are as many Bulls and Blun⯑derrs, and Contradictions in it almoſt as there are Lines, and all deliver'd with that inſo⯑lent and that bluſt'ring Air, which uſually attends upon Error, and Deluſion, while Truth, like the Deity that inſpires it, comes calmly and without noiſe.

To ſet a few of his Errors in their pro⯑per Light, he tells us in the beginning of that Paper, That the Engliſh Writers of Tragedy are poſſeſs'd with a Notion, that when they repreſent a virtuous or innocent [409] Perſon in Diſtreſs, they ought not to leave him till they have deliver'd him out of his Trouble, and made him triumph over his Enemies.

But, Mr. Spectator, is this peculiar to the Engliſh Writers of Tragedy? Have not the French Writers of Tragedy the ſame Notion? Does not Racine tell us, in the Preface to his Iphigenia, that it would have been hor⯑rible to have defil'd the Stage with the Mur⯑ther of a Princeſs ſo virtuous and ſo lovely as was Iphigenia.

But your Correſpondent goes on, This Error, ſays he, with an inſolent and dog⯑matick Air, they have been led into by a ri⯑diculous Doctrine in modern Criticiſm, that they are oblig'd to an equal Diſtribution of Rewards and Puniſhments, and an impar⯑tial Execution of poetical Juſtice.

But who were the firſt who eſtabliſh'd this Rule he is not able to tell. I take it for granted, that a Man who is ingenuous e⯑nough to own his Ignorance, is willing to be inſtructed. Let me tell him then, that the firſt who eſtabliſh'd this ridiculous Do⯑ctrine of modern Criticiſm, was a certain modern Critick, who liv'd above two thouſand Years ago; and who tells us ex⯑preſly in the thirteenth Chapter of his criti⯑cal Spectator, which Pedants call his Poetick, That ſince a Tragedy, to have all the Beauty of which it is capable, ought to be Implex and not Simple, (by the way, Mr. Spectator, you [410] muſt bear with this critical Cant, as we do with your Speculations and Lucubrations) and ought to move Compaſſion and Terror, for we have already ſhewn that the exciting theſe Paſſions is the proper Effect of a tra⯑gical Imitation, it follows neceſſarily, that we muſt not chooſe a very good Man, to plunge him from a proſperous Condition into Adver⯑ſity, for inſtead of moving Compaſſion and Terrour, that on the contrary would create Horrour, and be deteſted by all the World.

And does not the ſame deluded Philoſo⯑pher tell us in the very ſame Chapter, that the Fable to which he gives the ſecond Pre⯑ference, is that which has a double Conſtitu⯑tion, and which ends by a double Cataſtro⯑phe; a Cataſtrophe favourable to the Good and fatal to the Wicked. Is not here, Mr. Spectator, a very formal Recommendation of the impartial and exact Execution of poe⯑tical Juſtice? Thus Ariſtotle was the firſt who eſtabliſh'd this ridiculous Doctrine of modern Criticiſm, but Mr. Rymer was the firſt who introduc'd it into our native Lan⯑guage; who notwithſtanding the Rage of all the Poetaſters of the Times, whom he has exaſperated by opening the Eyes of the Blind that they may ſee their Errors, will always paſs with impartial Poſterity for a moſt lear⯑ned, a moſt judicious, and a moſt uſeful Cri⯑tick. Now is not your Correſpondent a profound and a learned Perſon? and ought [411] he not to own himſelf oblig'd to me for this notable piece of Erudition?

But he goes on in his dictatorian way: This Rule, ſays he, whoever eſtabliſh'd it, has, I am ſure, no Foundation in Nature, in Rea⯑ſon, and in the practice of the Ancients. But what will this dogmatick Perſon ſay now, when we ſhew him that this contemptible Doctrine of poetical Juſtice is not only foun⯑ded in Reaſon and Nature, but is it ſelf the Foundation of all the Rules, and ev'n of Tra⯑gedy itſelf? For what Tragedy can there be without a Fable? or what Fable without a Moral? or what Moral without poetical Ju⯑ſtice? What Moral, where the Good and the Bad are confounded by Deſtiny, and periſh alike promiſcuouſly. Thus we ſee this Do⯑ctrine of poetical Juſtice is more founded in Reaſon and Nature than all the reſt of the poetical Rules together. For what can be more natural, and more highly reaſonable, than to employ that Rule in Tragedy, with⯑out which that Poem cannot exiſt? Well! but the Practice of the Ancients is againſt this poetical Juſtice! What always, Mr. Specta⯑tor! will your Correſpondent have the Aſ⯑ſurance to affirm that? No, but ſometimes: Why then ſometimes the Ancients offended againſt Reaſon and Nature. And who ever believ'd that the Ancients were without Fault, or brought Tragedy to its Perfection? But I ſhall take another Opportunity to ſhew [412] that the Pactice of the Ancients, in [...] their Maſter-pieces, is exactly according to this fundamental Rule. I have no [...] time to do that in this ſhort Letter becauſe that would neceſſarily oblige me to ſhew that poetical Juſtice is [...] a much larger Extent than this pro⯑found Critick imagines; but yet I ſhall give the diſcerning Reader a hin [...] of it in that which follows.

Poetical Juſtice, ſays your Correſpon⯑dent, has no Foundation in Nature and Reaſon, becauſe we find that good and evil happen alike to all Men on this ſid [...] the Grave. In anſwer to which he mu [...] give me leave to tell him, that this is no [...] only a very falſe but a dangerous Aſſertion, that we neither know what Men really are nor what they really ſuffer.

'Tis not always that we know Men' [...] Crimes, but how ſeldom do we know their Paſſions, and eſpecially their dar⯑ling Paſſions? And as Paſſion is the Occaſion of infinitely more Diſorder in the World than Malice, [for where one Man falls a Sacrifice to inveterate Malice thouſand become Victims to Revenge and Ambition; and whereas Malice has ſome⯑thing that ſhocks human Nature, Paſſion [...] pleaſingly catching and contagious.] Can any⯑thing be more juſt, than that that Providenc [...] which governs the World ſhould puniſh Men [413] for indulging their Paſſions, as much as for obeying the Dictates of their moſt enven⯑om'd Hatred and Malice?

Thus you ſee, for ought we know, Good and Evil does not happen alike to all Men on this ſide the Grave. Becauſe 'tis for the moſt part, by their Paſſions, that Men of⯑fend; and 'tis by their Paſſions, for the moſt part, that they are puniſh'd. But this [...] certain, that the more Virtue a Man has the more he commands his Paſſions; but the Virtuous alone command them. The Wick⯑ed take the utmoſt Care to diſſemble and conceal them; for which reaſon we neither know what our Neighbours are, nor what they really ſuffer. Man is too finite, too ſhallow, and too empty a Creature to know another Man throughly, to know the Crea⯑ture of an infinite Creator; but dramatical Perſons are Creatures of which a Poet is himſelf the Creator. And tho' a Mortal is not able to know the Almighty's Creatures, he may be allow'd to know his own; to know the utmoſt Extent of their Guilt, and what they ought to ſuffer; nay, he muſt be allow'd not only to know this himſelf, but to make it manifeſt and unqueſtionable to all his Readers and Hearers. The Crea⯑tures of a poetical Creator have no Diſſimu⯑lation and no Reſerve. We ſee their Paſ⯑ſions in all their Height, and in all their De⯑formity; [414] and when they are unfortunate, we are never to ſeek for the Cauſe.

But ſuppoſe I ſhould grant that there is not always an equal Diſtribution of Affli⯑on and Happineſs here below. Man is a Creature who was created immortal, and a Creature conſequently that will find a Compenſation in Futurity for any ſeeming Inequality in his Deſtiny here. But the Creatures of a poetical Creator are imagi⯑nary and tranſitory; they have no longer Duration than the Repreſentation of their reſpective Fables; and conſequently, if they offend, they muſt be puniſh'd during that Repreſentation. And therefore we are very far from pretending that poetical Ju⯑ſtice is an equal Repreſentation of the Ju⯑ſtice of the Almighty.

We freely confeſs that 'tis but a very narrow and a very imperfect Type of it; ſo very narrow, and ſo very imperfect, that 'tis forc'd by temporal to repreſent eternal Puniſhments; and therefore when we ſhew a Man unfortunate in Tragedy, for not re⯑ſtraining his Paſſions, we mean that every one will for ſuch Neglect, unleſs he timely repents, be infallibly puniſh'd by infinite Juſtice either here or hereafter.

If upon this Foot we examine the Trage⯑dies of Sophocles and Euripides, we ſhall find that in their moſt beautiful Pieces, they are impartial Executors of Poetick Juſtice. And [415] 'tis upon this Foot that Ariſtotle requires that we ſhould examine them. Your Correſpon⯑dent I muſt confeſs is in the right when he ſays that that Philoſopher declares for Tra⯑gedies, whoſe Cataſtrophes are unhappy with relation to the principal Characters. But then what Inſtructions does he give us for the forming thoſe principal Characters? We are neither to make them very virtuous Perſons on the one ſide, that is Perſons who abſolutely command their Paſſions, nor on the other ſide Villains who are actuated by inveterate Malice, but ſomething between theſe two, that is to ſay Perſons who neg⯑lecting their Paſſions ſuffer them to grow outragious, and to hurry them to Actions which they otherwiſe would abhor. And that Philoſopher expreſsly declares, as we have ſhewn above, that to make a virtuous Man unhappy, that is a Man who abſolute⯑ly commands his Paſſions, would create Horror inſtead of Compaſſion, and would be deteſted by all the World. And thus we have ſhewn that Ariſtotle is for Poetical Juſtice, notwithſtanding that he is for un⯑happy Cataſtrophes. And ſo one would think was your Correſpondent. For when he enumerates and commends ſome Eng⯑liſh Tragedies, which have unfortunate Cataſtrophes; there are not two of thoſe which he commends, whoſe principal Cha⯑racters can be ſaid to be innocent, and con⯑ſequently [416] there are not two of them where there is not a due Obſervance of poetical Juſtice.

Thus, Mr. Spectator, I have diſcuſſed the Buſineſs of poetical Juſtice, and ſhewn it to be the Foundation of all Tragedy; and therefore whatever Perſons, whether anci⯑ent or modern, have writ Dialogues which they call Tragedies, where this Juſtice is not obſerv'd, thoſe Perſons have entertain'd and amus'd the World with romantick lamen⯑table Tales, inſtead of juſt Tragedies, and of lawful Fables.

'Tis not my Buſineſs at preſent to take a⯑ny farther Notice of the Errors of your Cor⯑reſpondent; perhaps I no more approve of Tragi-Comedies, or Tragedies with double Plots, than he does; But I hope he will not take it ill if I put him in mind that ſeveral of the Plays which he recommended before are Tragi-Comedies, and that moſt of them have double Plots. But he is vilely miſta⯑ken if he thinks that Tragi-Comedy is of the Growth of our Engliſh Theatres.

I ſhall take another Opportunity to ſhew him that he is as much miſtaken in what he has ſaid of Humours, as in what he dictates concerning poetical Juſtice.

To the SPECTATOR upon his Paper on the 24th of April.

I Have read over your Paper of the 24th with a great deal of Satisfaction, and here return you my Acknowledgments for the Honour you have done me in quoting two of my Verſes with Applauſe. I think my ſelf oblig'd in Gratitude, my worthy Friend, to do as much Honour to your Judgment as you have done to my Imagination; and as you have the Goodneſs to allow me to be an humorous Poet, I am bound in Ju⯑ſtice to celebrate you for a wonderful Cri⯑tick; and to make it appear that, contrary to the Obſervation of the Author of a late Rhapſody, one who has ſhewn himſelf no great Poet may be a prodigious Judge. In⯑deed the Obſervation of that Author is ſo far from being true, that moſt of the Criticks Ancient and Modern have been no Poets, and moſt of the Poets Ancient and Modern have been no Criticks. I cannot find out that any but Homer, and Virgil, and Horace, and Sophocles, and Euripides among the [418] Ancients were great Criticks. For who can believe, that has read them, that Apollonius Rhodius, Nonnus, Lucan, Statius, and Si⯑lius Italicus ever ſo much as heard that Nature, and the Philoſophers her Interpre⯑ters and Commentators, had laid down Rules for an Epick Poem? And who that has read the Moderns could imagine, that moſt of their Dramatick Poets had ever ſo much as heard that there were ſuch things as the Rules? As Boileau has obſerv'd of the French, that ſome Perſons among them had diſtinguiſh'd themſelves by their Rhymes, who never knew how to diſtin⯑guiſh Lucan from Virgil; ſo ſome among our own Rhimers have been renown'd for verſifying, who never ſo much as knew that Horace and Milton were good Poets. And I can on the other ſide name ſeveral who never diſtinguiſhed themſelves by Poetry, who yet have oblig'd the World with Cri⯑ticiſms which have been Non-pareillo's, and the very Top-Critick of all thoſe Criticks is my worthy Friend the Spectator.

Tho' who the Devil could have ever ex⯑pected to have found my worthy Friend a Critick, after he had treated Criticks with ſo much Contempt in two or three of his Immortal Tatlers, and particularly in the 29th and the 246th, where they are pronounc'd to be the ſillieſt of Mor⯑tals, Creatures, forſooth, who profeſs [419] Judgment; tho' by the way, Mr. Spectator, he who profeſſes or practiſes Poetry, and does not profeſs Judgment in it, profeſſes himſelf an Aſs. It was from thoſe Tatlers, and one or two more, Mr. Spectator, that I gueſs'd that you had a mortal A verſion to Criticiſm; but now I find plainly that they were none of your own, but were ſent you by two or three damn'd Poets, who are a ſort of Offenders that have not half the Cha⯑rity which other Malefactors are wont to ſhew, but bear eternal Malice to their Ex⯑ecutioners.

Thus the Invectives againſt Criticks and Criticiſm were other Peoples; you were too wiſe to write any ſuch thing, as knowing that Taſt which declines ſo faſt is only to be reſtor'd and maintain'd by Criticiſm. And therefore inſtead of writing Invectives againſt it, you have oblig'd the World with the thing it ſelf, with Criticiſm upon Criticiſm, and ſuch Criticiſm.—As thoſe Tatlers were the Off-ſpring of ſome certain Poets, which is manifeſt by their inſipid Satyr, like the faint Eagerneſs of Vinegar decay'd: no⯑thing is more clear than that the Criticiſms could be none but yours. For as you may diſcover ex ungue Leonem, & ex pede Her⯑cules, ſo in this Caſe the prodigious Off⯑ſpring ſpeaks and confeſſes the Gigantick Fa⯑ther.

In your very Folio of the 24th of April, how have you ſhewn the Fineneſs of your [420] Diſcernment, and the Profundity of your Penetration, by your Encomium of two Ver⯑ſes of my Tranſlation of the Fourth Satyr of Boileau? 'Tis now thirty Years ſince I tran⯑ſlated that Satyr, and conſequently was a very Boy at the Time of that Tranſlation; yet from that Time to this the ſtupid Age has been ignorant of the Beauty of that Couplet. How very flegmatick a Wretch have I been, and how illegitimate an Off⯑ſpring of Mr. Bays, not to know any thing of my own Excellence till I heard of it from you?

How little did I imagine when I tranſla⯑ted that Couplet, that the great Critick was then in Embrio who thirty Years af⯑terwards ſhould declare it to be a charming Couplet, by giving it a place in his never⯑dying Speculations.

I am perfectly convinc'd, my moſt wor⯑thy and moſt ingenious Friend, that we Au⯑thors are as blind and as partial Judges of our own Works, as we are unrighteous one [...] of other Peoples. I was apt to imagine, be⯑fore I ſubmitted my own Opinion to the de⯑ciſive Authority of your Judgment; that you would have done more for the Credi [...] of my Genius and of your own Diſcernmen [...] by commending the following Verſes of the Fourth Book of the Poem upon the Batte [...] of Ramelies, when you had ſo fair an occa⯑ſion of taking notice of them, as you had [...] [421] the writing the 56th Tatler. If I begin the Verſes a little higher than the couch⯑ing of the Cataracts which is the Subject of the 56th Tatler, I am confident you will have the Goodneſs to pardon me, and the rather becauſe you diſcover'd more than a common Satisfaction when you were pre⯑ſent with your Friend Mr. A. at the read⯑ing thoſe Verſes in Manuſcript. A celeſti⯑al Spirit viſits the Duke of Marlborough in a Viſion the Night before the Battel of Ramelies, and after he has ſaid ſeveral other things to him, goes on thus.

Theſe are the Verſes, my moſt diſcerning Friend, that I thought might have been preferr'd to the foremention'd Couplet, eſ⯑pecially ſince they would as it were have introduced themſelves, whereas the Coup⯑let is dragg'd in by extreme Violence. But I ſubmit to your infallible Judgment, not in the leaſt ſuſpecting that my worthy Friend can have any Malice in this Affair, and in⯑ſert that Couplet in his immortal Specula⯑tions only on purpoſe to expoſe me; no, far be it from me to entertain any ſuch Jea⯑louſie of my deareſt Friend, who is ſo good, ſo kind, ſo beneficent, and who has ſo often given himſelf the glorious Title of the Lover and Benefactor of Mankind. Who could imagine that one who hath [424] given himſelf that glorious Appellation, could e'er be prompted by Malice, or Paſ⯑ſion, or Intereſt thus ſlily and hypocritical⯑ly to abuſe one whom he had call'd his Friend?

I have been apt to believe likewiſe, my worthy Friend, that you would have been kinder to your ſelf and to me, if inſtead of commending the foremention'd Couplet you had taken ſome notice of the follow⯑ing Verſes which are in my Paraphraſe up⯑on the Te Deum; eſpecially when you had ſo fair an occaſion to mention them as you had at the writing the 119th Tatler. The Couplet of the tranſlated Satyr was intro⯑duced by Violence: But how very natu⯑rally would the following Verſes of the Pa⯑raphraſe have been mention'd either be⯑fore or after the laſt Paragraph of the fore⯑mention'd Paper, where a Spirit is intro⯑duc'd, who after he has ſpoke of that part of the Creation which is too little for hu⯑man Sight, comes afterwards to ſpeak of the immenſe Objects of Nature after this manner.

Upon the writing this Paragraph, how could you avoid the making mention of Verſes which had the very ſame Ideas, and Verſes which you had formerly mention'd with Applauſe in private Converſation? I know you will anſwer that you had intire⯑ly forgot them, and therefore I take the Liberty here to refreſh your Memory. The Angels are introduc'd in that Paraphraſe ſpeaking to God, and ſaying, after other things, that which follows.

How glad am I that the foremention'd Ver⯑ſes were writ before the above-nam'd Tat⯑lers? Otherwiſe I ſhould have been thought to have borrow'd from my worthy Friend, without making any manner of acknow⯑ledgment, only adding or endeavouring to add to what I borrow'd a little of that Spi⯑rit, and Elevation and Magnificence of Ex⯑preſſion which the Greatneſs of the Hints requir'd.

'Tis for this Reaſon that I am glad the Verſes were printed ſome Years before the Proſe. For you know, my dear Friend, that a Plagiary in general is but a ſcanda⯑lous Creature, a ſort of a ſpiritual Out⯑law, and ought to be treated as ſuch by all [427] the Members of the Commonwealth of Learning. But a Plagiary from living Au⯑thors is moſt profligately impudent, and in ſo ſlow and ſplenatick a Nation as ours moſt unjuſt and barbarous. For among us any thing that is admirably good is twenty or thirty Years before it comes to be under⯑ſtood. And how infinitely baſe is it in the mean while to deprive an Author of any thing that is valuable in him, and to inter⯑cept his coming Praiſe? As Laws are made for the Security of Property, what pity 'tis that there are not ſome enacted for the Se⯑curity of a Man's Thoughts and Inventions, which alone are properly his? For Land is alienable, and Treaſure is tranſitory, and both muſt at one time or other paſs from him, either by his own voluntary Act, or by the Violence and Injuſtice of others, or at leaſt by Fate. And therefore nothing is truly and really a Man's own.

'Tis only a Man's Thoughts and Inventions that are properly his: being alone Things that can never be alienated from him, nei⯑ther by Force nor Perſuaſion, nor by Fate it ſelf; and tho' another may baſely uſurp [428] the Honour of them, yet they muſt for ever rightfully belong to their firſt Inventor. Thus even the richeſt and the happieſt of Men have nothing that is truly and really their own, but their Thoughts and Inven⯑tions. But Authors for the moſt part, and eſpecially Poets, have nothing that can ſo much as be call'd their own but their Thoughts. 'Tis for thoſe alone, and the Glory which they expect from thoſe, that they entirely quit their Pretenſions to Riches, and renounce the Pomps and Vani⯑ties of this wicked World; and therefore to endeavour to deprive them of thoſe is exceedingly inhuman. What a Joy 'tis to think that the Precedence of Times ſets me free from the Imputation of this Injuſtice? Had I been capable of doing this, and do⯑ing it to my worthy Friend, of wronging my deareſt Friend in this manner, who knows how far that Barbarity might have extended it ſelf? I might have proceeded to have upbraided him with ſome weak place in his never-dying Folio's; and ha⯑ving forcibly depriv'd him of his Silver and his Gold, have pelted him with his Braſs and his Copper, out of counterfeit Anger or pretended Scorn, becauſe they were of no richer Metal.

But the Caſe of my dear Friend is vaſtly different. You have that Reputation, and the World has that Opinion of your Merit, [429] that they will be ſo far from believing that you have Obligations to a living Author which you have not, that tho' you had really made thus bold with me, it would have been impoſſible to have convinc'd a⯑bove forty or fifty People of it. And here, my dear Friend, at the ſame time that I acknowledge your uncommon Merit, I cannot but congratulate your incomparable Felicity, it being plain that you have got more Reputation in three Years time than Milton has done in fifty Years, or than Shakeſpear has in an hundred. I ſhall there⯑fore judiciouſly conclude with the genera⯑lity of your Readers, that you have a Me⯑rit paramount to that of all Britiſh Authors both living and dead, and that you have not only more Merit than any one Mora⯑liſt either Ancient or Modern, but that if you continue your Paper three Years long⯑er, you will have as much Merit as they have all together.

To Matthew Prior, Eſq upon the Roman Satiriſts.

WHen you ſeem'd to approve of the Tranſlation of the ſeventh Satire of the ſecond Book of Horace, which was tranſlated by one of my Friends, that Ap⯑probation was the more pleaſing to me, be⯑cauſe it confirm'd me in my own Opinion of it, and oblig'd me to acquieſce in the Judgments which ſome of my Friends have given of it, whom I have always chiefly conſulted in my Doubts about poetical Matters. And now, Sir, I come according to my Promiſe to conſult you about the Preference which ſeveral Partizans of the Roman Satiriſts have given to their reſpect⯑ive Favourite Authors, and to know from you which of them are in the right, or ra⯑ther whether they are not all in the wrong. You know very well, Sir, that Rigaltius, Scaliger the Elder, Lipſius and Holiday prefer Juvenal to Horace and Perſius; That Dacier, Heinſius, Monſieur de la Bruyere, and ſeveral others, prefer Horace [431] to Perſius and Juvenal; that Mr. Dryden endeavours to divide the Palm between Horace and Juvenal, and to prefer Horace for Inſtruction, and Juvenal for Delight; that he gives Horace the Preference for In⯑ſtruction, becauſe, ſays he, he is the more general Inſtructor; but that he gives the Priority to Juvenal for Delight, becauſe he is moſt delighted with him, and ſo makes his own Taſte the Argument for preferring him. But tho' we ſhou'd grant, Sir, that the Generality of Readers are more delighted with Juvenal than they are with Horace, becauſe Dryden is more de⯑lighted with him; yet is it not very much to be queſtion'd, whether the Author who gives the moſt general Delight is the moſt delightful Author? Now Sir, your old Friend Monſieur Deſpreaux, tho' 'tis evi⯑dent that he was more pleas'd with Horace than he was with Juvenal, becauſe he has imitated him more, yet he had more Judg⯑ment than expreſly to prefer the one to the other, becauſe he knew very well, that there can be no true Preference where there can be no juſt Compariſon, and that there can be no juſt Compariſon between Authors whoſe Works are not ejuſdem gene⯑ris, and that the Works of thoſe two Sati⯑riſts are not ejuſdem generis. For do not you believe, Sir, that Mr. Dryden is in the wrong where he affirms that the Ro⯑man [432] Satire had its Accompliſhment in Ju⯑venal? For is there not Reaſon to believe that the true Roman Satire is of the Comick kind, and was an Imitatiou of the old Athenian Comedys, in which Lucilius firſt ſignaliz'd himſelf, and which was afterwards perfect⯑ed by Horace, and that Juvenal afterwards ſtarted a new Satire which was of the Tra⯑gick kind? Horace, who wrote as Lucilius had done before him, in Imitation of the old Comedy, endeavours to correct the Follies and Errors, and epidemick Vices of his Readers, which is the Buſineſs of Co⯑medy. Juvenal attacks the pernicious out⯑ragious Paſſions and the abominable mon⯑ſtrous Crimes of ſeveral of his Contempo⯑raries, or of thoſe who liv'd in the Age be⯑fore him, which is the Buſineſs of Trage⯑dy, at leaſt of imperfect Tragedy. Horace argues, inſinuates, engages, rallies, ſmiles; Juvenal exclaims, apoſtrophizes, exagge⯑rates, laſhes, ſtabbs. There is in Horace al⯑moſt every where an agreeable Mixture of good Senſe, and of true Pleaſantry, ſo that he has every where the principal Qualities of an excellent Comick Poet. And there is almoſt every where in Juvenal, Anger, Indignation, Rage, Diſdain, and the vio⯑lent Emotions and vehement Style of Tra⯑gedy. Can there then be a juſt Compari⯑ſon made between theſe two Satiriſts, any more than there can be between a Tragick [433] and a Comick Poet? If Mr. Dryden were now living, would he compare Nat Lee with Etherege, the former of which never touch'd upon Comedy, and the other never attempted Tragedy? would he prefer Nat Lee to Etherege, as he does Juvenal to Horace, becauſe the Thoughts of Lee are more elevated than thoſe of Etherege, his Expreſſions more noble and more ſono⯑rous, his Verſe more numerous, and his Words more ſublime and lofty? would he not have believ'd, that if Etherege had writ Sir Fopling in the ſame Style, that Nat Lee wrote Alexander, he would have been as merry a Perſon as Penketh⯑man was when he acted Alexander? Would he not in all probability have judg'd that Lee is more delightful to thoſe who are more pleas'd with Tra⯑gedy than they are with Comedy, and that Etherege is more delightful to thoſe who are better entertain'd with Comedy than they are with Tragedy? Now, Sir, ought not we to make the ſame Judgment of Horace and Juvenal, and to affirm Ho⯑race to be more delightful to thoſe who are more pleas'd with Comedy than they are with Tragedy, and that Juvenal is more delightful to thoſe who are better entertain'd with Tragedy than they are with Comedy? And that perhaps for that very reaſon he was more pleaſing than [434] Horace to Mr. Dryden? Will not the Tra⯑gick Satire, which like Tragedy fetches its Notions from Philoſophy and from com⯑mon Senſe, be in all probability more ac⯑ceptable to Univerſities and Cloiſters, and all thoſe Recluſe and Contemplative Men, who paſs moſt of their time in their Clo⯑ſets, all which Perſons are ſuppos'd to have Philoſophy from Study, and common Senſe from Nature? And will not the Co⯑mick Satiriſt, who owes no ſmall Part of his Excellence to his Experience, that is to the Knowledge of the Converſation and Manners of the Men of the World, be in all likelihood more agreeable to the diſ⯑cerning Part of a Court, and a great Capi⯑tal, where they are qualify'd to taſte and diſcern his Beauties, by the ſame Experi⯑ence which enabled their Authors to pro⯑duce them? And above all things, muſt it not be moſt agreeable to a Polite Court, where that dexterous Inſinuation, that fine good Senſe, and that true Pleaſantry which are united in the Horatian Satire are the only ſhining Qualities which make the Courtier valuable and agreeable? And will he not take more delight in the Hora⯑tian Satire than in the Tragick Eloquence of Juvenal, not only becauſe he is quali⯑fied by Nature and Experience to reliſh the Beauties of it, but becauſe the Plea⯑ſure which he receives from it, is ſubſer⯑vient [435] to his Intereſt, which is always his main Deſign, and Improves and Cultivates thoſe Talents which are chiefly to recom⯑mend him to thoſe who are to advance him?

It will be needleſs, Sir, to detain you any longer, by enquiring into the Prefe⯑rence which Caſaubon has ſo injudiciouſly given to Perſius above Horace and Juve⯑nal, or into the Preference which he par⯑ticularly gives to the fifth Satire of Perſius before this of Horace, the Tranſlation of which has occaſion'd the Trouble which I now give you, and which, you know, Sir, is writ upon the ſame Subject. Your Friend, Monſieur Dacier, tells us that Caſaubon by this Opinion prefers the Uni⯑verſity to the Court. I appeal to you, Sir, if the Satire of Horace, the Tranſlation of which comes after this Letter, does not ſpeak for it ſelf, and juſtifie the Aſſertion of Monſieur Dacier.

To Mr. GREENWOOD.

THIS Morning, in order to perform my Promiſe, I caus'd two Parcels to be put into the General Penny-Poſt-Office for you, in one of which was The Invader of his Countrey, and in the other, the four Letters to Sir John Edgar; I hope both Parcels will come ſafe to your Hands, and wiſh they may entertain you.

Since I have been in Town, I have con⯑ſider'd the Paſſage in Phaedrus, Sed hoc feretis pro Judicio praemium. I find that Virgil and Horace have us'd the Word Judicium in three or four ſeveral Senſes. They have both us'd it for the intellectual Faculty, which we call Judgment. Horace has us'd it in this Senſe in his Art of Poe⯑try; as in this Paſſage

And in the Epiſtle to Auguſtus, ſpeaking of Alexander the Great,

Virgil has us'd it in his fifth Eclogue for Opinion:

In the firſt Epiſtle of the firſt Book, Ho⯑race uſes Judiciis for Opinions.

Horace in the firſt Satire of the ſecond Book uſes it for a Proſecution or a Tryal at Law:

And in the fourth Satire of the firſt Book,

But laſtly, Judicium is ſometimes taken for a definitive Sentence, as

Now as Penalty or Puniſhment is the con⯑ſequence of an antecedent Sentence, and no Figure is more commonly us'd either by Poets or Orators, than the Effect for the Cauſe, or the Conſequence for the Ante⯑cedent; Phaedrus in the Paſſage in Queſtion uſes the word Judicium for Puniſhment; as he uſes Praemium to ſignifie Poenam, and ſo the Senſe of the above-cited Verſe is, But this ſhall be your Puniſhment according to the Sentence pronounc'd againſt you. And thus much to the Paſſage of Phaedrus.

I deſign to come as ſoon as the Weather is ſettled, and to paſs two or three Days at the Houſe where I breakfaſted yeſterday Morning; but I ſhall hardly care to make a longer Stay among ſo many Jacobites, a Sort of People whom I ſo much abhor, and who ſo much hate me. I can compare them, for Malice, Credulity and Obſtinacy, to no Sort of People ſo nearly as to the Jews, who have been ſo many Years in a fooliſh Expectation of that Meſſiah who is already come. But of all the Jacobites I deteſt none ſo much as the Jacobite Parſons, and of all the Parſons none ſo much as thoſe who are for dethroning a Prince to whom they have taken an Oath to be Loyal, and for ſetting up a Pretender whom they have [460] ſworn to renounce. I have a great deal more Regard, or more Charity at leaſt, for the Nonjurors among them, I mean that Part of them who live modeſtly and hum⯑bly in Retirement, and never meddle with the Government. Theſe People ſeem to re⯑fuſe the Oaths thro' Conſcience, but a Con⯑ſcience erroneous and ill-guided. But as for that Part of the Nonjurors who make it the conſtant Buſineſs of their Lives, to plot, to cabal, to ſet the People againſt their King, and one Part of the People againſt the o⯑ther, they are apparently Nonjurors thro' Intereſt and not Conſcience; they refuſe the Oaths thro' the Hope of another Reſtoration, and the Gain that may attend it: It being impoſſible that any thing ſo uncharitable and immoral as their Practice, can be the Effect of a Chriſtian Conſcience. Yet ev'n theſe are nothing near ſo wicked as the ſwearing Jacobite Parſons. What I ſaid of Dr. Fauſtus, if you took it rightly, was de⯑ſign'd againſt them; for the Perſon who lives in conſtant, repeated, daily Perjury upon the account of Intereſt, ſeems to me to be capable of any Villany whatſoever, and to have done in effect what ſome cre⯑dulous Perſons believe that Dr. Fauſtus did foremrly, that is, to have given Bond and Judgment to the Devil to ſurrender their Perſons to him after a Term of Time.

To Sir Richard Blackmore.

I Have lately, with a great deal of Satis⯑faction, read twice over the political Letters to the Author of the London Jour⯑nal. Several of them ſeem to come from no ordinary Hands, being writ with great Strength and Spirit. The great Occaſion certainly call'd for all the Strength and Spi⯑rit that could be ſupplied by Man. 'Tis indeed ſo extraordinary, that it has no Pa⯑rallel in any Nation or any Age: For that a great Number of the chief Inhabitants of the Metropolis of a powerful Kingdom, who were ſo far from having any Cauſe of Diſcontent, that they had in their Power all the Felicity that Mortals can enjoy; that they actually poſſeſs'd more than ever they dar'd to hope for, nay more than e⯑ver they dar'd to wiſh for, ev'n in their moſt ſanguine Hours, but a few Months be⯑fore; That Perſons who were eſteemed by all their Fellow-Citizens, reſpected by all their Fellow-Subjects, regarded and highly favour'd by the Government, and honour'd [462] and diſtinguiſh'd by the whole Legiſlature; that a Number of theſe ſhould enter into an execrable Conſpiracy, irretrievably to ruin their Fellow-Subjects, to diſtreſs the Government that had ſo highly favour'd them, and to afflict and perplex the whole Legiſlature that had ſo highly honour'd them; and all this only thro' the infinitely baſe and fooliſh Deſire of accumulating Riches, of which they had before more than they could ever uſe, is what has never been tranſmitted to us by Tradition, or read of in ancient or modern Hiſtory.

This Conſpiracy, ſo new and unheard-of that it cannot be equal'd by any Nation in any Age, muſt neceſſarily have a Cauſe as monſtrous and as unparallel'd; and that is an antecedent Conſpiracy among a great num⯑ber of People, ſome by converſing and by writing, and ſome by encouraging theſe Converſations and Writings, to overthrow the Religion of their native Countrey, and by that means to let in Corruption upon us like a Deluge. And this they have en⯑deavour'd with all their Might to do, upon a Pretence the moſt extravagant that was ever heard of, upon a Pretence to advance the Publick Good. For their Deſign was to overthrow the Chriſtian Religion, in or⯑der to deſtroy Prieſtcraft; at the ſame Time they make no Offer to eſtabliſh any other Religion in the Room of that which [463] they would deſtroy. Now Prieſtcraft may trouble and perplex a State, but a general Want of Religion muſt be attended with its utter Ruin. For the Religion of every Countrey in which the Natives and their Forefathers have been educated, and which is antecedent or coaeval to moſt of its Laws and Cuſtoms, that Religion, whether true or falſe, is certainly the Baſis of that Coun⯑try's Conſtitution; and may indeed, when Corruptions flow in upon it, be reform'd, and reduc'd to its firſt Principles; but can never be totally aboliſh'd, without unavoida⯑ble Ruin. For that national Religion is, to that Countrey, the only Fountain both of general publick and private Virtue, and of general publick Siprit; and that being aboliſh'd, or very much weaken'd, even natural Religion muſt loſe its Force, and conſequently there can be no general Mo⯑rality. For tho' our Antichriſtian Authors may make ſeveral of their Readers Atheiſts, they can never hope to make the Genera⯑lity of a Nation Theiſts, without preten⯑ding to infuſe more Underſtanding into them than God and Nature ordain'd for them. For the Bulk of Mankind in any Nation, that is the Peaſants, the Mechanicks, and the Rabble of Gentry, are not capable of Theiſm, that is of worſhipping, without a ſenſible viſible Mediator, a Spirit who fills infinite Space; or of being convinc'd of their Duty by Arguments form'd by [464] right Reaſon, and drawn from the Laws of Nature. The Bulk of Mankind are en⯑tirely ſway'd by their Paſſions, and eſpeci⯑ally by thoſe two pow'rful ones, Hope, and Fear, for which Reaſon all thoſe fam'd Politicians, who have had the greateſt Knowledge of Mankind, have advis'd the Rulers of Nations to govern them by thoſe two Paſſions, viz. by the Hope of Re⯑ward, and by the Fear of Puniſhment; and here I cannot forbear reciting the memora⯑ble Words of the great Cardinal Richlieu. He begins the firſt Chapter of the ſecond Part of his political Teſtament thus:

'Tis after the ſame manner that Religion works upon the Minds of Men. The Re⯑ligion [465] of the Old Teſtament ſpeaks ſtrong⯑ly to theſe two Paſſions, propoſing mighty temporal Rewards to thoſe who obſerve the Rules of it, and to thoſe who tranſgreſs them grievous temporal Puniſhments. The Religion of the New Teſtament ſpeaks much more pow'rfully to them, by cauſing Men to hope for everlaſting Happineſs, and dread eternal Miſery.

Now when the Generality of Mankind break looſe from that Hope and that Fear, they remain abſolutely without Religion, and are prepar'd to diſſemble themſelves of any that may gratify their Ambition, their Intereſt, or their Revenge; which was the Cauſe that in the two or three laſt Years of Queen Anne, ſo many cry'd out that they had rather turn Papiſts than be Preſ⯑byterians. Now by declaring that they had rather be of a Religion which differs from us in Fundamentals, than of one which agrees with us in Doctrine, they ſeem'd to renounce all Chriſtianity.

'Tis for this Reaſon that ſome Perſons, who are call'd Whigs, by writing and en⯑couraging Antichriſtian Books have ſhewn themſelves to be only nominal Whigs, but really and effectually Tories; for by endea⯑vouring to root out the Chriſtian Religion in general from the Minds of Men, and by leaving them conſequently at Liberty to profeſs themſelves of any Branch of it for [466] their Intereſt; they have for thirty Years together been making their utmoſt Efforts for the bringing back Popery, Slavery and the Pretender; becauſe during all that long Space of Time, they have been endeavou⯑ring, with all their Strength, and with all their Might, to remove the moſt invincible Obſtacle to their Return.

Conſonant to all that has been ſaid above, is what Machiavel has declar'd in Chap. 12. Lib. 1. of his Diſcourſes on Livy. He tells us in the Beginning of that Chapter, That all States, whether Kingdoms or Republicks, which would keep themſelves from Ruin, ought above all things whatever to preſerve the Ceremonies of their Religion uncorrup⯑ted, and maintain it always venerable; for there is no greater Sign, ſays he, of a Coun⯑try's going to Ruin, than to ſee in it the Contempt of divine Worſhip. And a litttle lower he adds, for this Reaſon the chief Magiſtrates of a Kingdom or Commonwealth ought to maintain the Grounds of the Reli⯑gion they hold, and this being done, they ſhall eaſily keep their Commonwealth reli⯑gious and conſequently virtuous and united. Which is a juſt and wiſe Obſervation of that fam'd Politician; for Faction, which natural⯑ly tends to the Diſſolution of Governments, and even of the Conſtitutions of States, pro⯑ceeds for the moſt part from a violent De⯑ſire of poſſeſſing the publick Offices, that [467] Deſire from Neceſſity, and that Neceſſity from Luxury, and Luxury and all manner of Vice and Corruption from a Decay of the publick Religion.

I have many things more to ſay to you upon this Occaſion. But having already tranſgreſs'd the uſual Bounds of a Letter, I ſhall reſerve the reſt to another Oppor⯑tunity, which I hope ſhortly to have. In what I have to ſay, as well as in what I have ſaid, I ſhall declare my Sentiments, not as a Bigot, but as a faithful Lover of my Coun⯑trey. There is no Man alive who is leſs a Friend to Prieſtcraft than my ſelf, or to the temporal ambitious Deſigns of Prieſts: But I ſhall never endeavour to deſtroy Re⯑ligion in order to hurt Prieſtcraft: I know the Balance of right Reaſon better, and am amaz'd at the Conduct of ſome Stateſmen, who to ſhew themſelves forſooth notable Metaphyſicians, prove to all Men of com⯑mon Senſe, that they are very damn'd Po⯑liticians; for as has been ſaid above, tho' Prieſtcraft may diſturb a State, a general Decay of the publick Religion muſt utter⯑ly deſtroy it. And 'tis for this Reaſon that, in the tenth Chapter of the firſt Book of his Diſcourſes, Machiavel has theſe remar⯑kable Words: Infamous are they, and exe⯑crable, who are the Perverters of Religion, the Overthrowers of Kingdoms and Common⯑wealths, &c.

TO Sir RICHARD BLACKMORE.

THE Approbation which you gave to my former, incourages me to proceed. I affirmed in that, that the Religion of every Country, the eſtabliſh'd ancient Religion, is the Baſis of the Conſtitution of that Coun⯑try. I make no doubt but that if any Re⯑ligion except the Mahometan were eſta⯑bliſhed in Turkey, that abſolute Monarchy would be ſpeedily ruin'd. That mighty Empire will certainly decay, as the Influence of the Mahometan Religion grows weaker. But what is here affirm'd of Kingdoms and States in general, may be ſaid more parti⯑cularly of Free States. Their Liberty and their Greatneſs equally depend upon the Influence of the Religion eſtabliſhed in them. When once the various Sects of Philo⯑ſophers at Athens had generally weaken'd the Influence which the Graecian Religion before had had on the Minds of the Athe⯑nians, they were no longer that brave and [469] that noble People who fought for the com⯑mon Liberty of Greece at Salamis and at Marathon: They were no longer that great People who were all on fire with the Thirſt of Glory, and were fonder of Liberty than of Life; the ſordid Love of Gold took the Place in their Souls of thoſe two noble Paſ⯑ſions. And they who in the Days of Mil⯑tiades and Themiſtocles ſcorn'd to ſubmit to the moſt formidable Power on Earth, as ſoon as their Philoſophy had got the better of their Religion were ready to ſubmit and betray their Countrey to a petty upſtart In⯑vader. If we look among the Romans, we ſhall find ſtill more illuſtrious Proofs of the Influence that Religion has upon the Pub⯑lick Welfare. Machiavel attributes all the Felicity of that State to the Religion eſtabli⯑ſhed among them by Numa, who finding, ſays Machiavel, a very fierce People, and be⯑ing deſirous to reduce them to civil Obedi⯑ence by peaceable ways, applied himſelf to Religion, as a thing wholly neceſſary to pre⯑ſerve civil Society, and ordered it in ſuch a manner, that for many Ages there was not ſuch a Fear of God as in that Common⯑wealth, which facilitated much any Enter⯑prize whatſoever, which either the Senate or thoſe brave Roman Courages did under⯑take. Diſc. on Livy. Lib. 1. ch. 11. And a little lower in the ſame Chapter he adds, If a Man conſiders well the Roman Hiſtory, [470] he ſhall find of how much Efficacy their Re⯑ligion was for the commanding of Armies, for the reconciling the Senate and People, for the preſerving good Men, and for morti⯑fying the lewd. So that if we were to diſ⯑pute to which of the two Princes Rome was more oblig'd, to Romulus or Numa, I believe Numa would be preferred; for where Religion is, military Diſcipline is eaſily introduced; and where they have no Re⯑ligion and are already warlike, this hardly follows.

The Authority of Machiavel is ſo very great in political Matters, that I cannot for⯑bear the quoting him once more in this ve⯑ry Chapter, who a little lower has theſe Words; Wherefore having well conſider'd all, I conclude, that the Religion introdu⯑ced by Numa, was one of the principal Oc⯑caſions of that City's Happineſs, for that caus'd good Orders, good Orders brought good Fortune, and all the happy Succeſſes of their Enterprizes; and as the Obſer⯑vance of Divine Worſhip occaſions the Great⯑neſs of a Commonwealth, ſo the Contempt of it deſtroys it. For where the Fear of God is wanting, it muſt needs be that either that Kingdom goes to Ruine, or that it be ſup⯑ported by the Awe it ſtands in of the Prince, who may ſupply the Defects of Religion; and becauſe Princes are but ſhort-liv'd, that [471] Kingdom muſt needs have an End quickly, according as the Virtue thereof fails.

But now, Sir, if the Religion which Nu⯑ma eſtabliſh'd among the Romans, was the principal Cauſe of the Felicity of that Com⯑monwealth, I deſire to know whether any thing which had a direct and natural Ten⯑dency to the weakening and overturning that Religion, had not as direct and natu⯑ral a Tendency to the weakening and de⯑ſtroying the Commonwealth. There are particularly three things in the Roman Re⯑ligion, which ſeem to me to have had a pe⯑culiar Influence upon the Happineſs of that Commonwealth. The firſt is, the pretended Apparition of Romulus to Proculus, when he informed him of his Apotheoſis, and aſ⯑ſur'd him, if his Romans applied themſelves to Arms, they ſhould become the Maſters of the Univerſe. Now as you know very well, Sir, that the Romans firmly believ'd this, what cou'd infuſe more Confidence and Spirit into them in their Battels than that Belief?

But, Sir, you know very well, that the ſecond thing which had a peculiar Influ⯑ence upon the Felicity of the Roman Re⯑publick, was their Divinations by the Flight of Birds, the Entrails of Beaſts, and the pecking of Chickens, &c. The Soothſay⯑ings, ſays Machiavel, Ch. the 1ſt. Lib. the 1ſt. of his Diſcourſes, were not only for [472] the moſt part (as we have before obſerv'd) the Ground of the ancient Pagan Religion, but they were alſo the Occaſion of the Roman Republick's Welfare. For which Reaſon the Romans had more Regard to them than to any Order beſides, and made uſe of them in their Conſular Aſſemblies, in the Begin⯑nings of their Enterpriſes, in drawing forth their Armies into the Field, in fighting of pitch'd Battels, and in any other important Action either Civilor Military. Nor ever would they undertake any Expedition till they had firſt aſſur'd the Soldiers that the Gods had promis'd them the Victory. For, ſays he, at the end of this ſame Chapter, ſpeaking of the Divination by the pecking of Chickens, there was no other end of this manner of Soothſaying than to encourage the Soldiers to fight, for Boldneſs always wins the Victory.

But, Sir, a third thing which more than any thing had an Influence upon the Feli⯑city of that Commonwealth was what we find in the Somnium Scipionis of Cicero. Sed, quo ſis, Africane, alacrior ad tutan⯑dam Rempublicam, ſic habeto: Omnibus qui patriam conſervaverint, adjuverint, auxe⯑rint, certum eſſe in coelo ac de finitum Locum, ubi beati, aevo ſempiterno fruantur. Is it not probable, Sir, that moſt of their great Actions proceeded from a Belief of this, or elſe that ſome of them were downright [473] Fanaticiſm? We find by Dionyſius Hallicar⯑naſſaeus, that the Belief of this was the chief Motive that determined Vetturia, the Mo⯑ther of Coriolanus, to endeavour, among ſo many diſcouraging Circumſtances, to prevail upon her Son to draw off his Army from the Walls of Rome, and not to deſtroy his Country.

If I carry back to Rome, ſays ſhe to her Son, the hope of a ſpeedy Peace, if I re⯑turn to it with the Aſſurance that you are reconciled to it, with what Tranſports of Joy ſhall I not be receiv'd by our Fellow Citizens? The ſmall Remainder of time which I am predeſtin'd by the Gods to paſs upon Earth, will be attended with unpa⯑rallell'd Glory. And when the Gods put an end to my Life, my Happineſs will have no end. And if it be true, that there are dif⯑ferent Manſions doom'd for us after we are dead, I ſhall have no Reaſon to fear thoſe dark and diſmal Places prepared for the Souls of the wicked; even the Eliſian Fields, thoſe charming Retreats predeſtin'd for the Souls of the Juſt, will be too poor a Re⯑compence to reward Deſert like mine. Af⯑ter I ſhall have preſerved Rome, this City ſo dear to Jupiter, I ſhall be encourag'd to expect a Place in that pure and ſublime Re⯑gion of the Air, which, we are told, is in⯑habited by the Children of Gods.

[474] Theſe, Sir, were the three Points of the Roman Religion, which had the greateſt Influence on the Publick Succeſs and the Proſperity of their Commonwealth. But when at length the Graecian Philoſophy was brought into Italy, and the Romans began to think, what the Moderns call freely, the Syſtem of Epicurus, which moſt prevailed with the Men of Letters and the Men of Vanity, appear'd to be directly levell'd at the three foremention'd Points of their Re⯑ligion, and to have a direct Tendency to the rooting the Belief of them from the Minds of Men. For whereas the funda⯑mental Maxim of Epicurus's Syſtem is, that the Gods never in the leaſt concern them⯑ſelves about the Affairs of the World, they who receive it, muſt refuſe all Credit to the Apparition of Romulus to Proculus, after the former's pretended Apotheoſis. And whereas 'tis a Maxim of Epicurus, that the World is abſolutely govern'd by Chance, and that the very Pretence to Divination is nothing but a ſolemn Foppery; this alone was ſufficient to deſtroy the Influence of their Aruſpicy and their Augury. And then, how is the Expectation of a bliſsful and a glorious diſtinguiſh'd Immortality, conſiſtent with that third Epicurean Max⯑im, that the Soul dies with the Body?

Thus, Sir, did the Frec-thinking of the Romans weaken their Belief of thoſe Points [475] of their Religion, which were the three principal Sources of their Virtue and their Magnanimity, and fatally prepar'd the way for unheard-of Luxury and all manner of Vice and Corruption. I know very well indeed that this Luxury and this Corrupti⯑on is attributed by their Hiſtorians to their Aſiatick Triumphs, and that fatal Security into which they were lull'd by the Deſtru⯑ction of Carthage. But let us conſider the Words which one of them uſes upon that Occaſion. 'Tis Velleius Paterculus in the beginning of his ſecond Book. Potentiae Romanorum prior Scipio viam aperuerat, Luxuriae poſterior aperuit. Quippe re⯑moto Carthaginis metu, ſublatâque imperii aemulâ, non gradu, ſed praecipiti curſu, a virtute Deſcitum, ad vitia Tranſcurſum; vetus Diſciplina deſerta, nova inducta; in ſomnum a vigiliis, ab armis ad voluptates, a negotiis in otium converſa civitas.

You ſee, Sir, that the Hiſtorian here ob⯑ſerves, that upon the Deſtruction of Car⯑thage, the Romans did not paſs gradually from Virtue to Vice, but took a Headlong Leap from the former to the latter. Now if 'tis truly ſaid of particular Perſons, that Nemo repente fit turpiſſimus, as I make no doubt but that it is very true, 'tis certainly more unqueſtionably true of a whole and a great People. If therefore the Romans upon the Deſtruction of Carthage, preci⯑pitately [476] broke out into all manner of Vice and Corruption; there is no way in Nature to account for this but by truly af⯑firming, that their Inclinations were de⯑bauch'd long before the Deſtruction of Car⯑thage, and that the Ruin of that Rival Ci⯑ty did nothing but take off that Reſtraint which had been upon them before; that their Principles of Religion and Vir⯑tue had been attack'd and weaken'd for a whole Century before, by the looſe Philo⯑ſophy of Greece, which had been introdu⯑ced among them about the beginning of the Carthaginian War.

I could bring Inſtances from ſeveral o⯑ther Kingdoms and States to ſhew the In⯑fluence which Religion has upon their good or their evil Fortune. But enough has been ſaid upon a Subject of which the rea⯑ſonable part of Mankind is ſatisfied, and eſpecially all the great Men who have lived in every Age. For all the great Legiſla⯑tors who have been famous among the Na⯑tions for the wiſe Laws they eſtabliſhed, have either been really religious, or havepre⯑tended to be ſo. For never, ſays Machi⯑avel, was there any Maker of extraordi⯑nary Laws in a Nation, who had not his Recourſe to God, for otherwiſe his Laws had not been received. For ſeveral things that are good and expedient are known to a wiſe Man, which have not ſuch Evidence in [477] themſelves, that he by Diſcourſe can eaſily make others conceive them. Therefore, ſays he, the wiſe Men who would get over this Dif⯑ficulty, have Recourſe to a God, ſo had Lycurgus, ſo Solon, ſo many others whoſe Deſign was the ſame with theirs. All the great Founders of Kingdoms and States have been either really or appearingly re⯑ligious. And therefore as Empire is main⯑tain'd by the ſame Methods by which it was at firſt eſtabliſh'd, there is no Precept that Machiavel inſtills with ſo much Care into the Prince of his Formation, as that he ſhould at leaſt appear religious; as any one may be ſatisfied, who has Recourſe to the 13th Chapter of his Prince. All the Con⯑querors of the World have brought about their Deſigns by Religion. Ev'n Caeſar him⯑ſelf, tho' a manifeſt Epicurean, pretended to be of divine Extraction, and in order to animate his Souldiers by that Belief, the very Word which he gave at the deciſive Battel of Pharſalia was Venus Victrix.

But as the Legiſlators, and Founders, and Conquerors of Empires have had Recourſe to Religion for the eſtabliſhing or encreaſing their Empire; all the wiſe eſtabliſh'd Prin⯑ces that have ever reign'd, and all the great Miniſters who have ſerv'd them, have thought Religion neceſſary for the preſer⯑ving that Empire which had been at firſt eſtabliſh'd by it.

[478] Cardinal Richlieu in the beginning of the ſixth Chapter of the firſt Part of his Politi⯑cal Teſtament, addreſſes himſelf thus to Lewis the 13th. ‘Dieu etant le Principe des toutes choſes, le Souverain Maître des Rois, et celuy ſeul qui les fait regner heureuſement, ſi la De⯑votion D. V. M. n' etoit connue de tout la Monde; je commencerois ce chapitre qui concerne ſa Perſonne, en lui repreſentant, que ſi elle ne ſuit les voluntes de ſon Crea⯑teur, et ne ſe ſoumet a ſes voix; elle ne doit point eſperer de faire obſerver les ſi⯑ennes, ni de voir ſes Sujets obeiſſans a ſes Ordres.’

And thus, Sir, have I endeavoour'd to ſhew that the reſpective Religion of ev'ry Coun⯑try is the Baſis of the Conſtitution of that Countrey, which as I have endeavour'd to prove by Reaſon in the former Letter, I have pretended to confirm it in this by infallible Experience and Matter of Fact, by the Authority of Machiavel, who is generally regarded as the Prince of Political Writers; by the Sentiments of wiſe Legiſlators, of the great Foun⯑ders of Empires and great Conquerors; by the Practice of all wiſe eſtabliſh'd Prin⯑ces, and the Sentiments and Practice of [479] all the great Miniſters, who have ſerv'd them. There is no manner of Occaſion to tell a Gentleman of your good Senſe, that by Religion, all along in theſe Let⯑ters, is meant not only reveal'd Religion, but the Religion eſtabliſhed in every Country: But I thought fit to give at leaſt a Hint of this for the Sake of o⯑thers, into whoſe Hands this Letter may come.

And now, Sir, what ſhall we ſay of a certain Sett of Perſons, who for theſe laſt thirty Years have made it the ſole Buſineſs of their Lives, not only to ſhew all the World that they are irreligious themſelves, and vainly value themſelves upon it, but to endeavour to root out the eſtabliſh'd Religion from the Minds of others; and at the ſame Time to pretend that they do this for the pub⯑lick Good, and to ſtrengthen the Re⯑volution; which ſuch a Proceeding has a natural Tendency to deſtroy, as we ſhew'd in our former Letter. Some of theſe are the very Perſons who cry out with the greateſt Vehemence againſt thoſe who have been guilty of that deplorable Cor⯑ruption, and that fatal Villany, which have almoſt undone a great and powerful Na⯑tion. And yet I pretend to ſhew in a third Letter that that prodigious Villany [480] and Corruption is the neceſſary Conſe⯑quence of their own Converſations and Writings, and the natural Effect of their undermining the Chriſtian Religion.

TO Sir RICHARD BLACKMORE.

I Aſſerted in my two former Letters, that the eſtabliſh'd Religion in ev'ry Coun⯑try, is the Baſis of the Conſtitution of that Country, and the Fountain of pub⯑lick Morality. And I endeavour'd to prove that Aſſertion by Reaſon, by the Authority of the moſt allow'd Political Writers, and by conſtant Experience, and matter of Fact. I promis'd to ſhew in this third Letter, that the frequent Attacks that have been made for theſe loſt forty Years upon the Chriſtian Reli⯑gion by Atheiſts, and Deiſts, have been the Cauſe of the preſent national Cala⯑mity, which is like to prove ſo fatal to us; in order to which give me leave to [482] obſerve that as the eſtabliſh'd Religion in every Country is the Baſis of the Conſtitution of that Country, ſo no Religion that ever was in the World ever made it ſo much its Deſign as the Chriſtian Religion does, to extirpate Avarice and all worldly Intereſt out of the Minds of Men. The Founder of this Religion has more than once decla⯑red that his Kingdom is not of this World, and that they who will be his Subjects, whoſe Hearts and Affections he abſolutely requires, muſt renounce the Prince of this World, and ev'ry thing that is his; and he has taken the utmoſt Care both by his Example, and by his Doctrine, to baniſh Avarice and all worldly Intereſt from the Minds of his Followers; for which Reaſon, his whole Life was one continu'd Example of a contented and willing Poverty. The Foxes have Holes, ſays he, and the Birds of the Air have Neſts, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his Head. Matthew Chap. 8. V. 20. He made this his principal Care in his Doctrine, and eſtabliſh'd his Re⯑ligion upon this Foundation. Mat. 14. Chap. 14. V. 21. Jeſus ſaid unto him, if thou wilt be perfect, go and ſell what thou haſt, and give to the Poor; and thou ſhalt have Treaſure in Heaven, and [483] come and follow me. And when the young Man, to whom this was ſaid went away ſorrowful, becauſe he had great Poſſeſſions; Jeſus ſaid, Ibid. V. 26. It is eaſier for a Camel to go through the Eye of a Needle, than for a Rich Man to enter into the Kingdom of God. That is, It is eaſier for a Camel to go thro' the Eye of a Needle, than for a Man who loves the Riches of this World to become a Subject of ſuch a Soveraign of another World, as requires all his Af⯑fections.

The Apoſtles by their Lives gave the ſame Example that their Maſter did. Matthew 19. V. 23. Behold, we have forſaken all and followed thee. As they gave the ſame Example, they preach'd the ſame Doctrine. St. Paul has declar'd Avarice to be Idolatry, that is, 'tis ſetting thoſe Affections upon ſordid Dirt, whoſe rightful Object is God alone. As the End of the Chriſtian Religion is to re⯑ſtore Man to that bliſsful Immortality, from which the Fall degraded him; this can be done no other way than by re⯑ſtoring thoſe Affections to God, which Man at his Fall withdrew from his Crea⯑tor, and fix'd upon the Creature. And therefore the whole Tenour of the Chri⯑ſtian Religion, the whole Spirit and [484] Soul of it, declare this End aloud. The three Cardinal Virtues of this Religion are utterly incompatible with Avarice and Worldly mindedneſs. 'Tis impoſſible but that any one who has a lively Faith, and a lively Hope in the Promiſe of a bliſsful Immortality, muſt ſet his Affections on things above, and not on things below; and as for the greateſt of the three Vir⯑tues Charity, that and Avarice muſt be the very Contradictions of each other, in their Natures, their Deſigns, their Effects, and their very Terms.

I believe, Sir, that it is pretty plain, that where a Religion thus conſtituted flouriſhes, it muſt be attended with great Diſintereſt⯑edneſs and with publick Virtue. When upon the Reſurrection of Jeſus Chriſt it was in its full Power, we read of the grea⯑teſt Diſintereſtedneſs that ever was heard of, Acts the 4th. And ev'n here among us when it was reduc'd to its firſt Principles up⯑on the Reformation, there was a good deal of publick Virtue and publick Spirit, and there never has been ſo little publick Spirit among us, as ſince the Return of King Charles the Second, and never ſo fierce and frequent Attacks againſt the Chriſtian Religion; and as thoſe Attacks have been more frequent and more audacious within theſe laſt thirty Years, the national Virtue and publick [485] Spirit have declin'd proportionably, and A⯑varice and Corruption increas'd. And now they are arriv'd at their fatal Height, we find that they who are believ'd to be moſt guilty of them, are they who have been the great and the conſtant Favourers of thoſe who made the Attacks.

But now, Sir, as I have ſhewn that the undermining the Chriſtian Religion has had a natural Tendency to the weakning the na⯑tional Virtue and the diſtreſſing the Govern⯑ment; what Acknowledgments ſhall we make to you who have been for ſo many Years a Champion for the eſtabliſh'd Reli⯑gion, and who by endeavouring all that lay in your ſingle Power to ſtemm this Torrent of impolitick Impiety, have like a true Pa⯑triot been employ'd in the Service of your Country, and making a generous Effort for the reſtoring publick Virtue and publick Spi⯑rit. And as one of the nobleſt Branches of the publick Worſhip, by the Diſadvantage of a barbarous Tranſlation, lay but too much ex⯑pos'd to the Scorn and Contempt of Liber⯑tines; you have bravely reſcu'd it from that Oppreſſion; and by giving us a new Tranſla⯑tion confin'd to the old Tunes and Meaſures, (a Tranſlation valuable to the Knowing, and intelligible to the Ignorant) have put it in our Power to eſtabliſh an Uniformity of Praiſe in our Worſhip, as we have done of [486] Prayer. Whereas at preſent, one Pariſh differing from another in Pſalmody, the Sojourner and the Traveller, when they oc⯑caſionally come into our Churches, are but too often excluded from joyning in the moſt ſublime Branch of our Worſhip. For Pray⯑er is too often a poor ſelf-intereſted thing in Compariſon of Praiſe. For Prayer is too often the Effect of Fear and of a mean Opinion of the Deity, ſometimes ſuppoſing him to be mutable, and ſometimes unjuſt. But Praiſe proceeds from nobler Motives, and from nobler Paſſions; from a raviſhing View of his Excellence, from Gratitude, from Admiration, from Joy divine and from Seraphick Love. Thus, Sir, have I ſent you a ſimple Sketch of what I intended to ſay upon this Subject. For the Spirits will tire as well as the Limbs, and mine are al⯑ready weary.