that she was her servant with most ardent devotion. I think this a pattern of a new sort of style, not yet taken notice of by the critics, which is above the sublime, and may be called the celestial; that is, when the most sacred phrases appropriated to the honour of the deity are applied to a mortal of good quality. As I am naturally emulous, I cannot but endeavour, in imitation of this lady, to be the inventor, or, at least, the first producer of a new kind of dedication, very different from hers and most others, since it has not a word but what the author religiously thinks in it. It may serve for almost any book, either prose or verse, that has, is, or shall be published, and might run in this manner. The Author to Himself. Most honoured Sir, These labours, upon many considerations, so properly belong to none as to yourself. First, as it was your most earnest desire alone that could prevail upon me to make them public: then, as I am secure (from that constant indulgence you have ever shown to all which is mine) that no man will so readily take them into protection, or so zealously defend them. Moreover, there is none can so soon discover the beauties; and there are some parts which it is possible few besides yourself are capable of understanding. Sir, the honour, affection, and value I have for you are beyond expression; as great, I am sure, or greater than any man else can bear you. As for any defects which others may pretend to discover in you, I do faithfully declare I was never able to perceive them; and doubt not but those persons are actuated purely by a spirit of malice VOL. III. Q malice or envy, the inseparable attendants on shining merit and parts, such as I have always esteemed yours to be. It may perhaps be looked upon as a kind of violence to modesty, to say this to you in public; but you may believe me, it is no more than I have a thousand times thought of you in private. Might I follow the impulse of my soul, there is no subject I could launch into with more pleasure than your panegyric. But since something is due to modesty, let me conclude by telling you, that there is nothing so much I desire as to know you more thoroughly than I have yet the happiness of doing. I may then hope to be capable to do you some real service; but till then can only assure you that I shall continue to be, as I am more than any man alive, dearest sir, Your affectionate friend, and the greatest of your admirers. than ON PASTORAL POETRY, PAPER 1. No. 22. PASTORAL Poetry not only amuses the fancy the most delightfully, but is likewise more indebted to it any other sort whatsoever. It transports us into a kind of Fairy Land, where our cars are soothed with the melody of birds, bleating flocks, and purling streams; our eyes enchanted with flowery meadows and springing greens; we are laid under cool shades, and entertained with all the sweets and freshness of nature. It is a dream, it is a vision, which we wish may be real, and we believe that it is true. Mrs. Cornelia Lizard's head was so far turned with these imaginations when we were last in the country, that that she lost her rest by listening to nightingales: she kept a pair of turtles cooing in her chamber, and had a tame lamb running after her up and down the house. I used all gentle methods to bring her to herself; as having had a design heretofore of turning shepherd myself, when I read Virgil or Theocritus at Oxford. But, as my age and experience have armed me against any temptation to the pastoral life, I can now with the greater safety consider it; and shall lay down such rules as those of my readers who have the aforesaid design ought to observe, if they would follow the steps of the shepherds and shepherdesses of antient times. In order to form a right judgment of pastoral poetry, it will be necessary to cast back our eyes on the first ages of the world: for, since that way of life is not now in being, we must inquire into the manner of it when it actually did exist. Before mankind was formed into large societies, or cities were built, and commerce established, the wealth of the world consisted chiefly in flocks and herds. The tending of these we find to have been the employment of the first princes, whose subjects were sheep and oxen, and their dominions the adjoining vales. As they lived in great affluence and ease, we may presume that they enjoyed such pleasures as that condition afforded free and uninterrupted. Their manner of life gave them vigour of body and serenity of mind. The abundance they were possessed of secured them from avarice, ambition, or envy; they could scarce have any anxieties or contentions, where every one had more than he could tell what to do with. Love, indeed, might occasion some rivalships amongst them, because many lovers fix upon one object, for the loss of which they will be satisfied with no compensa and tion. Otherwise it was a state of e, innocence, and contentment; where plenty begot pleasure, pleasure begot singing, and singing begot poetry, and poetry begot pleasure again. Thus happy was the first race of men, but ruchy withal, and uncultivated: for, before they could make any considerable progress in arts and scionors, the tranquillity of the rural life was destroyed by turbulent and ambitious spirits; who, having built cities, raised annies, and studied policies of state, made vassals of the defenceless shepherds, and rendered that which was before casy and unrestrained, a mean, laborious, and miserable condition. Hence, if we consider the pastoral period before learning, we shall find it unpolished; if after, we shall find it unpleasant. | The use that I would make of this short review of the country life shall be this. An author that would amuse himself by writing pastorals, should form in his fancy a rural scene of perfect case and tranquillity, where innocence, simplicity and joy abound. It is not enough that he writes about the country; he must give us what is agreeable in that scene, and hide what is wretched, It is, indeed, commonly affirmed, that truth well painted will certainly please the imagination; but it is sometimes convenient not to discover the whole truth, but that part only which is delightful. We must sometimes show only half an image to, the fancy; which if we display in a lively manner, the mind is so dexterously deluded, that it doth not readily perceive that the other half is concealed. Thus, in writing pastorale, let the tranquillity of that life appear full and plain, but hide the meanness of it; represent its simplicity as clear as you please, but cover its misery. I would not hereby be so understood, as if I thought thought nothing that is irksome or unpleasant should have a place in these writings; I only mean that this state of life in general should be supposed agreeable. But as there is no condition exempt from anxiety, I will allow shepherds to be afflicted with such misfortunes as the loss of a favourite lamb or a faithless mistress. He may, if you please, pick a thorn out of his foot; or vent his grief for losing the prize in dancing. But these being small torments, they recommend that state which only produces such trifling evils. Again, I would not seem so strict in my notions of innocence and simplicity, as to deny the use of a little railing, or the liberty of stealing a kid or a sheep-hook. For these are likewise such petty enormities, that we must think the country happy where these are the greatest transgressions. When a reader is placed in such a scene as I have described, and introduced into such company as I have chosen, he gives himself up to the pleasing delusion; and since every one doth not know how it comes to pass, I will venture to tell him why he is pleased. The first reason is, because all mankind love case." Though ambition and avarice employ most men's thoughts, they are such uneasy habits, that we do not indulge them out of choice, but from some necessity, real or imaginary. We seek happiness in which ease is the principal ingredient, and the end proposed in our most restless pursuits is tranquillity. We are therefore soothed and delighted with the representation of it, and fancy we partake of the pleasure. A second reason is our secret approbation of innocence and simplicity. Human nature is not so much depraved, as to hinder us from respecting goodness in others, though we ourselves want it. This is the reang |