heavy lump. A. P. W. B. L. E. The Right Hon. E. of S. These are the chief characteristics of the Bathos and in each of these kinds we have the comfort to be blessed with sundry and manifold choice spirits in this our island. The Advancement of the Bathos. Thus have I (my dear countrymen) with incredible pains and diligence, discovered the hidden sources of the Bathos, or, as I may say, broke open the abysses of this great deep. And having now established good and wholesome laws, what remains but that all true moderns, with their utmost might, do proceed to put the same in execution? In order whereto, I think I shall, in the second place, highly deserve of my country, by proposing such a scheme as may facilitate this great end. men at clubs; the illipsis, or speech by half-words, of ministers and politicians; the aposiopesis of courtiers; the litotes, and diminution, of ladies, whisperers, and backbiters; and the anadiplosis of common criers and hawkers, who, by redoubling the same words, persuade people to buy their oysters, green-hastings, or new ballads. Epithets may be found in great plenty at Billingsgate, sarcasm and irony learned upon the water, and the epiphonema or exclamation frequently from the bear-garden, and as frequently from the 'Hear him' of the House of Commons. Now each man applying his whole time and genius upon his particular figure, would doubtless attain to perfection: and when each became incorporated and sworn into the society (as hath been proposed) a poct or orator would have no more to do but to send to the particular traders in each kind; to the metaphorist for his allegories, to the simile-maker for his comparisons, to the ironist for his sarcasms, to the apophthegmatist for his sentences, &c.; whereby a dedication or speecà would be composed in a moment, the superior artist having nothing to do but to put together all the materials. As our number is confessedly far superior to that of the enemy, there seems nothing wanting but unanimity among our selves. It is therefore humbly offered, that all and every individual of the Bathos do enter into a firm association, and incorporate into one regular body: whereof every member, even the meanest, will some-way contribute to the support of the whole: in. I therefore propose that there be conlike manner as the weakest reeds, when joined in one bundle, become infrangible. To which end our art ought to be put upon the same foot with other arts of this age. The vast improvement of modern manufactures ariseth from their being divided into several branches, and parcelled out to several trades: for instance in clock making one artist makes the balance, another the spring, another the crown-wheels, a fourth the case, and the principal workinan puts all together: to this economy we owe the perfection of our modern writers; and doubtless we also might that of our modern poetry and rhetoric, were the several parts branched out in the like manner. Nothing is more evident, than that divers persons, no other way remarkable, have cach.a strong disposition to the formation of some particular trope or figure. Aristotle saith, that the hyperbole is an ornament fit for young men of quality; ac cordingly we find in those gentlemen a wonderful propensity towards it, which is marvellously improved by travelling: soldiers also and seamen are very happy in the same figure. The periphrasis or circum locution is the peculiar talent of country farmers; the proverb and apologue of old trived, with all convenient dispatch, at the public expence, a rhetorical chest of drawers, consisting of three stories; the highest for the deliberative, the middle for the demonstrative, and the lowest for the judicial. These shall be subdivided into loci or places, being repositories for ma ter and argument in the several kinds of oration or writing; and every drawer shall again be subdivided into cells, resembling those of cabinets for rarities. The apart ment for peace or war, and that of the l berty of the press, may in a very few days be filled with several arguments perfectly new; and the vituperative partition will as easily be replenished with a most choice collection, entirely of the growth and ma nufacture of the present age. Every com poser will soon be taught the use of this cabinet, and how to manage all the regis ters of it, which will be drawn out much in the manner of those in an organ. The keys of it must be kept in honest hands, by some reverend prelate, or va liant officer, of unquestionable loyalty affection to every present establishment in church and state; which will sufficica ly guard against any mischief which mig otherwise be apprehended from it. And being lodged in such hands, it may be at discretion let out by the day, to several great orators in both houses; from whence it is to be hoped much profit and gain will accrue to our society. Dedications and Panegyrics. Now of what necessity the foregoing project may prove, will appear from this single consideration, that nothing is of equal consequence to the success of our works as speed and dispatch. Great pity it is, that solid brains are not, like other solid bodies, constantly endowed with a velocity in sinking proportionable to their heaviness; for it is with the flowers of the Bathos as with those of nature, which, if the careful gardener brings not hastily to market in the morning, must unprofitably perish and wither before night. And of all our productions none is so short-lived as the dedication and panegyric, which are often but the praise of a day, and become by the next utterly useless, improper, indecent, and false. This is the more to be lamented, inasmuch as these two are the sorts whereon in a manner depends that profit, which must still be remembered to be the main end of our writers and speakers. We shall therefore employ this chapter in shewing the quickest method of composing them after which we will teach a short way to epic poetry. And these being confessedly the works of most importance and difficulty, it is presumed we may leave the rest to each author's own learning or practice. First of panegyric. Every man is honourable, who is so by law, custom, or title. The public are better judges of what is honourable than private men. The virtues of great men, like those of plants, are inherent in them, whether they are exerted or not; and the more strongly inherent, the less they are exerted; as a man is the more rich, the less he spends. All great ministers, without either private or œconomical virtue, are virtuous by their posts, liberal and generous upon the public money, provident upon public supplies, just by paying public interest, courageous and magnanimous by the fleets and armies, magnificent upon the public expences, and prudent by public success. They have by their office a right to a share of the public stock of virtues: besides, they are by prescription immemorial invested in all the celebrated virtues of their pre decessors in the same stations, especially those of their own ancestors. As to what are commonly called the colours of honourable and dishonourable, they are various in different countries: in this, they are blue, green, and red. But, forasmuch as the duty we owe to . the public doth often require that we should put some things in a strong light, and throw a shade over others, I shall explain the method of turning a vicious man into a hero. The first and chief rule is the golden rule of transformation; which consists in converting vices into their bordering virtues. A man who is a spendthrift, and will not pay a just debt, may have his injustice transformed into liberality; cowardice may be metamorphosed into prudence; intemperance into good nature and good-fellowship; corruption into patriotism; and lewdness into tenderness and facility. The second is the rule of contraries. It is certain the less a man is endued with any virtue, the more need he has to have it plentifully bestowed, especially those good qualities of which the world generally believes he has none at all; for who will thank a man for giving him that which he has? The reverse of these precepts will serve for satire; wherein we are ever to remark that whoso loseth his place, or becomes out of favour with the government, hath forfeited his share in public praise and honour. Therefore the truly public-spirited writer ought in duty to strip him whom the government hath stripped; which is the real poctical justice of this age. For a full collection of topics and epithets to be used in the praise and dispraise of ministerial and unministerial persons, I refer to our rhetorical cabinet ; ing with an earnest exhortation to all my brethren, to observe the precepts here laid down; the neglect of which has cost some of them their ears in a pillory. conclud manifest, that an epic poem may be made without a genius, nay, without learning or much reading. This must necessarily be of great use to all those who confess they never read, and of whom the world is convinced they never learn. Moliere observes of making a dinner, that any man can do it with money; and if a professed cook cannot do without it, he has his art for nothing: the same may be said of making a poem: it is easily brought about by him that has a genius, but the skill lies in doing it without one. In pursuance of this end, I shall present the reader with a plain and sure recipe, by which any author in the Bathos may be qualified for this grand performance. To make an Epic Poem. For the Fable. Take out of any old poem, history-book, romance, or legend (for instance, Geoffry of Monmouth, or Don Belianis of Greece) those parts of story which afford most scope for long descriptions: put these pieces together, and throw all the adventures you fancy into one tale. Then take a hero, whom you may chuse for the sound of his name, and put him in the midst of these adventures: there let him work for twelve books; at the end of which you may take him out, ready prepared to conquer or to marry; it being necessary that the conclusion of an epic poem be fortunate. To make an Episode. Take any remaining adventure of your former collection, in which you could no way involve your hero; or any unfortunate accident that was too good to be thrown away; and it will be of use applied to any other person, who may be lost and evaporate in the course of the work, without the least damage to the composition. For the Moral and Allegory. These you may extract out of the fable afterwards, at your leisure: be sure you strain them sufliciently. For the Manners. For those of the hero, take all the best qualities you can find in the most celebrated heroes of antiquity: if they will not be reduced to a consistency, lay them all on a heap upon him. But be sure they are qualities which your patron would be thought to have; and to prevent any mistake which the world may be subject to, select from the alphabet those capital letters that compose his name, and set them at the head of a dedication or poem. However, do not observe the exuct quantity of these virtues, it not being determined whether or no it be necessary for the hero of a poem to be an honest man. For the under-characters, gather them from Homer and Virgil, and change the names as occasion serves. For the Machines. Take of deities, male and female, as many as you can use: separate them into two equal parts, and keep Jupiter in the middle: kt Juno put him in a ferment, and Venus mollify him. Remember on all occasions to make use of volatile Mercury. If you have need of devils, draw them out of Milton's Paradise, and extract your spirits from Tasso. The use of these ma chines is evident: since no epic poem can possibly subsist without them, the wisest way is to reserve them for your greatest necessities. When you cannot extricate your hero by any human means, or yourself by your own wit, seck relief from heaven, and the gods will do your business very readily. This is according to the direct prescription of Horace, in his Art of Poetry: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus Inciderit. That is to say, "A poet should never call upon the gods for their assistance, but "when he is in great perplexity." For the Descriptions. For a tempest. Take Eurus, Zephyr, Auster, and Boreas, and cast them together in one verse add to these of rain, lightning, and thunder (the loudest you can) quantum sufficit: mix your clouds and billows well toge ther till they foam, and thicken your de scription here and there with a quicksand. Brew your tempest well in your head, before you set it a-blowing, For a Battle. Pick a large quantity of images and descriptions from Homer's Iliad, with a spice or two of Virgil; and if there remain any overplus, you may lay them by for a skirmish. Season K well with similies, and it will make an excellent battle. For a burning Town. If such a des cription be necessary (because it is ce tain there is one in Virgil) old Troy is ready burnt to your hands: but if you fear that would be thought borrowed, a chap ter or two of the Theory of the Contagre tion, well circumstanced, and done into verse, will be a good succedaneum. As for similies and metaphors, they may be found all over the creation; the west ignorant may gather them: but the diff Thou may'st conceive, O reader, with what concern I perceived the eyes of the congregation fixed upon me, when I first took my place at the feet of the priest. When I raised the psalm, how did my voice quaver for fear! and when I arrayed the shoulders of the minister with the surplice, how did my joints tremble under me! I said within myself "Remember, "Paul, thou standest before men of high worship; the wise Mr. Justice Freeman, 46 the grave Mr. John Tonson, the good Lady Jones, and the two virtuous gen"tlewomen her daughters; nay, the great "Sir Thomas Truby, Knight and Baro. net, and my young master the Esquire, "who shall one day be lord of this ma"nor." Notwithstanding which it was my good hap to acquit myself to the good liking of the whole congregation; but the lord forbid I should glory there in. I was determined to reform the mani. fold corruptions and abuses which had crept into the church. First, I was especially severe in whipping forth dogs from the temple, all excepting the lap-dog of the good widow Howard, a sober-dog which yelped not, nor was there offence in his mouth. Secondly, I did even proceed to moroseness, though sore against my heart, unto poor babes, in tearing from them the half-eaten apples which they privily munched at church. But verily it pitied me; for I remember the days of my youth. Thirdly, With the sweat of my own hands I did make plain and smooth the dog's ears throughout our great Bible. Fourthly, The pews and benches which were formerly swept but once in three years, I caused every Saturday to be swept with a besom, and trimmed. Fithly, and lastly, I caused the surplice to be neatly darned, washed, and laid in Shoes did I make (and, if entreated, mend) with good approbation. Faces also did I shave; and I clipped the hair. Chirurgery also I practised in the worming of dogs; but to bleed adventured I not, except the poor. Upon this my two-fold profession, there passed among men a merry tale, delectable enough to be rehearsed : How that, being overtaken with liquor on e Saturday evening, I shaved the priest with Spanish blacking for shoes instead of a washball, and with lamp-black powdered his perriwig. But these were sayings of men delighting in their own conceits more than in the truth: for it is well known, that great was my care and skill in these my crafts; yea, I once had the honour of trimming Sir Thomas himself, without fetching blood. Furthermore, I was sought un-" to to geld the Lady Frances her spaniel, which was wont to go astray: he was called Toby, that is to say Tobias. And, thirdly, I was entrusted with a gorgeous pair of shoes of the said lady, to set an heel-piece thereon; and I received such praise therefore, that it was said all over the parish, I should be recommended unto the king to mend shoes for his majesty; whom God preserve! Amen. $36. Cruelty to Animals. Ibid. Montaigne thinks it some reflection upon human nature itself, that few people take delight in seeing beasts caress or play together, but almost every one is pleased to see them lacerate and worry one another, I am sorry this temper is become almost a distinguishing character of our own nation,' from the observation which is made by foreigners of our beloved pastimes, bearbaiting, cock-fighting, and the like. We should find it hard to vindicate the destroying of any thing that has life, merely out of wantonness; yet in this principle our children are bred up; and one of the first pleasures we allow them, is the licence of inflicting pain upon poor animals: alınost as soon as we are sensible what life is ourselves, we make it our sport to take it from other creatures. I cannot but believe a very good use might be made of the fancy which children have for birds and insects. Mr. Locke takes notice of a mother, who permitted them to her children, but rewarded or punished them as they treated them well or ill. This was no other than entering them betimes into a daily exercise of humanity, and improving their very diversion to a virtue. I fancy, too, some advantage might be taken of the common notion, that 'tis ominous or unlucky to destroy some sorts of birds, as swallows and martins. This opinion might possibly arise from the confidence these birds seem to put in us, by building under our roofs; so that this is a kind of violation of the laws of hospitality to murder them. As for Robin red-breasts in particular, it is not improbable they owe their security to the old ballad of "The children in the wood." However it be, I don't know, I say, why this prejudice, well improved and carried as far as it would go, might not be made to conduce to the preservation of many innocent creatures, which are now exposed to all the wanton ness of an ignorant barbarity. There are other animals that have the misfortune, for no manner of reason, to be treated as common enemies, wherever found. The conceit that a cat has nine lives, has cost at least nine lives in ten of the whole race of them: scarce a boy in the streets but has in this point outdone Hercules himself, who was famous for killing a monster that had but three lives. Whether the unaccountable animosity against this useful domestic may be any cause of the general persecution of owls (who are a sort of feathered cats) or whether it be only an unreasonable pique the moderns have taken to a serious countenance, I shall not determine: though I am inclined to believe the former; since I observe the sole reason alledged for the destruction of frogs is because they are like toads. Yet, amidst all the misfortunes of these unfriended creatures, 'tis some happiness that we have not yet taken a fancy to eat them for should our countrymen refine upon the French never so little, 'tis not to be conceived to what unheard-of torments, owls, cats, and frogs, may be yet reserved. When we grow up to men, we have another succession of sanguinary sports; in particular, hunting. I dare not attack a diversion which has such authority and custom to support it; but must have leave to be of opinion that the agitation of that exercise, with the example and number of the chasers, not a little contributes to resist those checks, which compassion would naturally suggest in behalf of the animal pursued. Nor shall I say, with Monsieur Fleury, that this sport is a remain of the Gothic barbarity; but I must animadvert upon a certain custom, yet in use with us, and barbarous enough to be derived from the Goths, or even the Scythians: I mean that savage compli ment our huntsmen pass upon ladies of quality, who are present at the death of a stag, when they put the knife in their hands to cut the throat of a helpless, trembling, and weeping creature. Questuque cruentus, But if our sports are destructive, our gluttony is more so, and in a more inhuman manner. Lobsters roasted alive, pigs whipped to death, fowls sewed up, are testimonies of our outrageous luxury. Those who (as Seneca expresses it) divide their lives betwixt an anxious conscience and a nauseated stomach, have a just reward of their gluttony in the diseases it brings with it: for human savages, like other wild beasts, find snares and poison in the provisions of life, and are allured by their appetite to their destruction. I know nothing more shocking, or horrid, than the prospect of one of their kitchens covered with blood, and filled with the cries of the creatures expiring in tortures. It gives one an image of a giant's den in a romance, bestrewed with the scattered heads and mangled limbs of those who were slain by his cruelty. Pope. $37. Pastoral Comedy. I have not attempted any thing of a pastoral comedy, because I think the taste of our age will not relish a poem of that sort. People seek for what they call wit, on all subjects, and in all places; not con sidering that nature loves truth so well, that it hardly ever admits of flourishing. Com ceit is to nature what paint is to beauty; it is not only needless, but impairs what it would improve. There is a certain majesty in simplicity, which is far above all the quaintness of wit: insomuch, that the critics have excluded wit from the lof tiest poetry, as well as the lowest, and for bid it to the epic no less than the pastoral. I should certainly displease all those who are charmed with Guarini and Bonarelli, and imitate Tasso not only in the simplicity of his thoughts, but in that of the fable too. |