The Smile enraged me and I could no more restrain my self: It is the work of Providence, I said to Walter, that most Men are not able to foretel their own Fate, for there was one in this Room who must surely die.
We all must Die, murmur'A Walter looking strangely upon me.
Yes, I replied, but it is hard to say who is Sick and who is Well.
I left the Office at Six and when the Rogue Hayes parted from me in the Passage I returned his Bow but coldly. It was a misty Evening, but it was not so obscure that the little Hawks-eyed creature could not follow me: so I walked with all speed up Whitehall and turned into the Strand, and for all this space I could hear the sound of Heels following me. I looked back once but the Villain hid himself from me: well, well, says I to my self, I will lead you a Dance for one day you must learn how to lead Apes in Hell. I quicken'd my Pace towards the Seven Dials and did not trouble to turn my Head, for I knew that he would not wish to lose me; but yet when I came to St Giles I crossed over with all Speed and the Run of the Coaches must have kept him on the other Side.
Then I hasten'd thro' Grape Court and turned into the Red Gates at the half-paved Entry there. Here I let the Mist leave me as I Stood by the Door: I walk'd in bravely enough but, when I saw the Letter by the Counter, I was close to sinking down upon the Floor. It was address'd, To Mr Dyer to be left for him at the Red Gates by Grape Court: With Care. But who could prophesy where I was to be, and who could calculate upon my Arrival on this Day? I open'd the Letter with trembling Hands and read what could not be indur'd: This his to lett you know that you shul be spoken about, so betid you flee the Office by Monda next or you may expect the worse as suer as ever you was born.
This filled me with horrible Apprehensions and I stagger'd to a Corner where I might groan over them; the Tap-boy ask'd me what I wished but I made no Answer until he came by me and touched me on the Arm, at which I shivered terribly. Do you call Sir, said he laughing, and I demanded a Pint of strong Ale. And as I drank these were my Reflections: I knew this Hayes, this Dog, by the Excrement he sent to me. I could smell him out, for he left his Ordure every where. And it was not so strange, neither, that he had placed his Letter here for had he not hounded me hither? Then I rejoyced, for tho' he might conceeve himself to be the Pursuer in truth it was I who follow'd him; we were fix'd in the same Center and, tho' moving contrary Ways at first, we were sure to encounter somewhere or other upon the Circumference. Thus he could no more escape me than a convicted Thief escapes the Gallows. If the Wind be in the right Corner, he will have Flam for Flam. And then I considered this: the Villain gives me Hints and Whispers but how much has he truly learned of my Work?
Has he knowledge of Mirabilis or of the man Joseph? There was no Question but that he could not know of the Sacrifices, for the Blood was spill'd in Darknesse and Secresy, but it was a Topick unsettled with me if he had ever followed me to Black Step Lane before it was ransacked by the idle Mobb.
The Noise and the Vapours of the Ale-house now began to affect me, and my Thoughts were soon so confus'd and all in a Heap that under the Weight of them my poor Mind sank back. For I thought I heard a Door closing, and the sound of Steps crossing the Threshold; and there seemed to come the Voice of a Woman calling, Is it you againe? Like an eccho came the Reply, Is he not yet back? There was then such a Roaring in my Ears that I woke as if from a Trance and looked about me in Astonishment. But I check'd my self: and so, said I, do you waste your Time by becoming a Mirror for outward Things?
Your Work is too pressing for you to sit by an Ale-house stove, so be gone and contemplate Mr Hayes his Fate in your Chamber. The Tavern was quiet now, and the Customers sat nodding against each other like the stinking Snuff of a Candle when it is just going out in an over-heated Socket. Who is that worshipful Lump of Clay, that Thing which lolls by the Stove in an Elbow-chair? That Thing is me, and as I rise I reel but keep my Step. Thus I wandred across St Giles and then beyond, but I was not so Drunken that I did not keep my Wits from being scattered: when I reach'd my Lodgings I took a Sweat and went to Bed, very hot and my Pulse high. I did not sleep so well after, but had some confus'd Doses.
I woke next Day with a light Head that allow'd strange Fancies in: I would as like have staid all day in my Gown and be denied to everybody, but then a fresh Idea gave me the Resolution to get up with a good heart. I dress'd my self and took my best Periwigg from its little Box before Nat came in to rouse me: Well sir, I said to him when he enter'd (and he made an aukward Stop when he heard me address him thus), I have just had a Thought I will not exchange for fifty Guineas.
He was urgent with me to discover it but I would not, and soon enough his wandering Mind was set upon another Course. Mrs Best, says he, sent message last Night if you would play a little Quadrille but you had not returned and I could not answer for you, I waited and waited till I grew quite Tired and then it was about the Middle of the Night when I heard a Noise Peace, Nat, I replied, you will disturb me this Morning with your Chatter for I have another Fish to Fry. And then I hugg'd my self closely.
It was with great Exultation that I walk'd into the Office and, having greeted Walter who was staring out of the Window as pale as if he had seen his own Spectre, I entered the Closet of Mr Hayes. I saw him thinking, O God here he comes! here he comes! but I approach'd him with all the Civility imaginable and ask'd him if he might grant me a Favour. He gave me a Bow and entreated me to proceed, saying that he would give me as much Favour as he could. Then I discours'd with him thus: that the Mason, before his own Fatality and in Grief at his Son's death, had not paid much heed to the Outwalls of St Mary Woolnoth facing Lombard Street, and that these Walls were in consequence wanting not less than seven or eight Foot in Height. When they were completed, then the Scaffolding might after that be intirely struck and taken away: no more Delay and, I added, since you have worked in strict Partnership with the Mason I would be very much obliged if you would inspect his Work and see what is necessary to finish it. The Villain told me that if it lay in his Power he would give me Satisfaction in this regard, for he too had been sensible of the Delay; then I thank'd him again, and he thank'd me for coming so modestly to him. And thus I drew him by Smiles into Perdition. Are you still affected by the Vertigo? J asked. I have a little Trouble, he replied to my great Delight.
He was as good as a dead Man, a Jack-pudding to be eaten, and as I returned to my own Closet I made my Guts to shake with Laughter like a trodden Quagmire. Walter was perplex'd by my sudden Mirth and asked me, how it was? And I replied, it was very well.
Here is something to encrease your Laughter, says he presently, there is a letter here from the Vicar of Mary Woolnoth.
From Priddon?
The same. He trusts that you will inform him when you have fixed a time for removing the Heathen Rubbidge -or so he puts it in his canonical Speech.
The Man is a Fool, I said, to talk of Rubbidge; I would sooner put him in the Cart when I hear the Clapper of the Rubbidge-men.
For in truth the Parson Priddon is a peece of hypocritical Holinesse who wears an old-fashioned Coat and has his Stockings hanging about his Legs; and yet his Face is red and plump, and his Eyes sparkling. He speaks of God from his Pulpit but knows no more of It than the May-fly knows of the Water above which it buzzes or the Mobb know of the Sunne when they feel its Heat upon their sweaty Faces. No Churchman has so well observ'd the Act of Uniformity, for in King Charles the Second's time who was more eager than him for putting the Penal Laws in execution; in King James's who a greater Stickler for abolishing them; in King William's who more violent for sending home the Dutch Blew-Guards in the English service; and now in Queen Anne's who more complaisant to our Dutch allies? Walter has left my Closet to make Water but on coming in again he says: And will you remove that Poor stuff, as Priddon calls it?
To go back a little: the church of St Mary Woolnoth, having been grievously damaged in the Fatal year 1666 and its Sides, Roof and Part of the Ends damnified by the Fire, it was admitted within the autho
rity of the Commission as a fit Church for restoring. It was mostly built of Stone, Square and Boulder yet what was destroy'd, as the Front to Lombard Street, I have re-erected in Free-stone. But first it had been necessary for me to inspect and secure the Foundacions, and it was while the work men were digging by the Side of the Church that they found severall human Bones in the Gravell. They kept on in their Digging in order to uncover the Bodies that were hurried there but, as they were thus imployed, part of an antient Chappell fell in upon them. To cut the Matter short, they had found here a primitive Church, with a semi-circular Presbyterium or Chancel which came near to the Form of a Cross; and the Foundations were not of Rubbidge but of Kentish rubble-stone, artfully worked and consolidated with exceeding hard Mortar in the Roman manner. Inscriptions were then uncover'd to DEO MOGONTI CAD and DEO MOUNO CAD: they pleased me exceedingly when I viewed them, for the tradition reported by Mr Cambden is that the god Magon, or Idol of the Sunne, made good this quarter of the City.
Parson Priddon, who watched my Labourers from the safety of his House next the Church, hastened into the Street when I arriv'd to inspect the Ruines. Then he peer'd uneasily into the Pitte where the Chapel had been found, saying, Pray, sir, by your leave I will look upon this idle Stuff. I advis'd him to wear a Jack-cap of Leather to keep him from the Hurt of falling Brick or Timber, and at this he takes a Step away: what a happy Occasion it was, says he, when the Supreme Being brought Peace and Tranquillity to our Minds and saved us from such Idolatry! But he stopp'd short in his canting Discourse when a work man carried to me another Stone on which, after I had scraped off the Incrustation, I found the inscription DUJ.
What is that, asked the Parson, is it some new Absurdity?
It is not the particular name of a God, I replied, but in the British tongue DU means Dark, and it may be that here was a Patch where Nocturnal sacrifices were once perform'd.
At this he drew himself up a little saying, I cannot assent to spiritual Raptures; all this Darknesse is past, Mr Dyer, and it has been revealed to us that we have a Rationall God. We walked a little away from the Pitte, for the Dust was falling upon our Cloathes, and I held my peace.
Then he goes on: What is this DU but the Language of Infants, Mr Dyer? I told him that I agreed with him upon that, but he had already struck into his Theme as if he were mounting the Pulpit as he spoke: What is this DU when we see how God guides the whole of his Creation in the wonted course of Cause and Effect which we may prove, Mr Dyer, by considering the unaffected Simplicity of Nature.
And at this point the venerable Priddon raised his Arm around him, tho' I could see only the courts and alleys of Cheap-side. I grant you, he said hastily, that the Streets are but a poor Prologue to my Theme but look you Heavenwards (and he raysed his Voice as he looked up at the Sky) and you will be filled with a pleasing Astonishment if you could see with the aid of a Telescope so many Worlds hanging above one another, moving peacefully and quietly round their Axles and yet shewing such an amazing Pomp and Solemnity. If we consult our Reason as well as our Interest, Mr Dyer, we will pity the poor Heathens and regret their coming hither.
But in the walls of Pardon Church-Yard before the Fire, I replied, to the North of St Pauls I did not know it.
– In that Church-yard was artificially and richly painted the Dance of Macabre or Dance of Death. Is that not like this DU?
It was most unadvisedly done, sir, replied the good Parson, and, once dwelt upon, it will provoke Melancholly. Besides, all our Ceremonies can be as well explained by plain Reason.
But what of Miracles?
Ah Miracles, he said taking my Arm as we walked towards Grace-church Street, Miracles are but divine Experiments.
But was not Christ risen from the Dead?
This is the very truth, Mr Dyer, but I will insinuate to you another Truth which will explain how all these Controversies may be decided.
It is known that Christ was hurried three Days and three Nights, is it not? I replied very willingly that it was. And yet the Scriptures say, he went on, that he was buried on Friday night and rose again before day on Sunday.
That is so.
And so, Mr Dyer, how do you propose to unriddle this Enigma?
It is a Puzzle indeed, sir.
Then he gave a little Laugh and continued: Well, we are in need only of an Astronomer, for a Day and two Nights in the Hemisphere of Judaea is in the contrary Hemisphere two Days and a Night: that makes up the Summ imploy'd in the Scriptures. For as you know, he went on merrily, Christ suffered for the whole World.
He gave me a look of Infinite wisdom as we walked forward, but then he stopped of a sudden and raised one Finger to his Ear. Listen, says he, I hear the Faith spouting from the Lips of Children, yea, from the Mouths of Babes. And as we turn'd the corner into Clements Lane, three or four Children came towards us singing: When I did come to the old church stile, There did I rest for a little while; When I did come to the old church yard, There the bells so loud I heard; When I did come to the old church door, There I stopped me to rest a little more.
This Rhyme carried so many things into my Memory that I was like to break into Weeping, but I kept my Countenance and smiled upon them. Parson Priddon had at this Instant seen a little Girl who was like to a Bawd in Embrio: in his merry Humour, he stroaked her upon the Head and told her to be good and to mind her Book; whereupon the Creature very barbarously took hold of that nameless Part of him and almost squeez'd and crush'd those Vitals to Death before running off with the others. Murther, murther, Priddon calls out, and I could not forebear from laughing out loud, at which he looked sideways at me; but after a little while he had recover'd himself and said in a more grave Style, I must eat now. Monday is a day of Game and I cannot be without my Meat! I must eat!
So he returned at once to his House where I willingly accompanied him, having other Business to do about the Church; and no sooner had we passed thro' the Entry than he was calling into the Kitchin for a couple of Geese roasted by one of the clock at the farthest. Then, when the cry of Sir, Dinner's upon the Table! came, he was up from his Chair in a moment and soon beseiging his Goose with heaps of Cabbage, Carrots and Turneps. After he had digested his Meat and given two great Belches, he grew more composed and expressed to me in an utterly fatigued Fashion that the little Child would be a Theme for his next Sermon: for even in her Infancy had she not demonstrated that we are but imperfect and confus'd Coppies of the universall Pattern?
A Woman is a deep Ditch, said he, her House inclines to Death and her Paths unto the Devil.
That Girl will go upon the Town pritty soon, I added.
Well, sir, that is the Fate of these Females bred up in the Streets; it is the Mobb way of usage, for no doubt in Imagination they have already committed many hot Rapes upon her. I have never been married myself, says he going off into a Trance. And then he recalled his Topick: It is a fact, sir, he went on while taking another glass of French wine, that the Mobb is now everywhere in tumult, with such hideous Yelling and Howling that I can scarce hear my self speak in my own House. Do you notice how I have put dubble Iron-bars to the Windows -and he waved a little Goose-bone at them -for they have been attacking Dwellings in the neighbourhood and the Watch do nothing but scratch their Arses.
The wine was heating my own Blood as I replied: Who then can talk of the Good of Mankind and the publicke Benefit when there is nothing but Rage and Folly on the Streets? Here the Parson belched again. Men are not rational Creatures, I continu'd, they are sunk into Flesh, blinded by Passion, besotted by Folly and hardened by Vice.
Will you take some Pudding, Mr Dyer?
They are like Insects who, having their Birth in Excrement, from thence borrow their Colour and their Smell.
Parson Priddon was blowing upon his Dish of Broth as I spoke. Yes it is a filthy Crowd, says he, and so we must thank God for civil Government; for although the Grave will equal all Men, and it may be that niceties of Birth and Quality will not be observed hereafter, it is necessary for the
Order and Oeconomy of the Universe that there should be differences of Breeding and Dignity. Will you send me that Tooth-pick case by you?
And I put down my Knife to speak: The Mobb will bait Cripples as well as Bears, and they will turn a wild Bull loose upon the Streets for Sport. When the Hangman leaves the Wretch kicking in the Air at Tyburn, the women and children fight to pull him down by the Legs.
Then they take a peece of his Cloathes, kiss it, and spit upon it.
Ah, these are sad Times. Will you pass me that Tooth-pick case, Mr Dyer?
And yet we must be Merry, I went on changing my Mood, for they are the Glass of our Age in which we may all see ourselves.
Well, well, Mr Dyer, everything is in Motion and we may all be chang'd by and by. He was like to have discoursed next on the quiddities of Time but, since I was straitened in that Commodity, I presently took my leave of him as he reached for the Tooth-pick case.
And now Walter hands me the Letter from Priddon: I can scarce read it, I said, since I broke my Spectacles when I dropped them on the Ground by St Mary Woolnoth. But you may do this business for me, Walter, by writing to the good Parson that he need not fear the Contagion of these Heathen altars: tell him that we are building as fine a peece of Christianity as he is like to see in London. Walter took up his Pen and waited, for he knew there was more to come. And did you inform the Mason's assistant, I added, that my Tablet must be made of hard Stone and set rough upon the Stroake?
It is all done, said he with a Sigh.
And when the Tablet is finished, Walter, make it plain that no one is to come near it: I wish to have care of it and be my own Carver. It will be my Inscription. Walter turned to the Window in order to hide his Face from me, tho' I knew what Thoughts were swarming through his Head. He fears that he will become an Object of Scorn and Suspicion for conducting my Orders and seeming too close with me. Why be so Dismal? I asked him.
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