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.
I? I am not Dismal.
I see it even in your Posture, Walter, but there is no need for this Gloominesse. Then I added: They do not sing my Praise now but they will never, never forget my Work.
At this point he turned round of a Sudden: Oh I quite forgot, says he, Sir Christopher sent word that he must see your Ground-platts and your Uprights without delay: he visits the Commission tomorrow and must be thoroughly familiar with them.
Who tells you this?
Master Hayes informed me, he replied reddening a little.
And where may Sir Christopher be?
He has gone to Crane Court to read a Lecture there. Shall I inform Mr Hayes to have the Plans taken there? Then he stopp'd short when he saw my Visage. Or shall I carry them myself?
No, I replied, I will go with them in a Moment since I have other business with Sir Chris. But I could not refrain from adding: Mr Hayes is not to be spoken of, and have I not told you to trust nobody except yourself?
So it was in some Discomposure of Mind that I coach'd it to Crane Court where the Greshamites, or Fellows of the Royal Society, or Virtuosi, or Mountebanks, or Dogs, dissect the Mites in Cheese and discourse upon Atomes: they are such Quacks as you would desire to Piss upon, and I would rather stay in my Closet than indure one of their Assemblies where they tittle-tattle on their Observations and Thoughts, their Guesses and Opinions, their Probabilities and Conceptions, their Generations and Corruptions, their Increasings and Lessenings, their Instruments and Quantities. And yet it was of Necessity that I waited on Sir Chris.: if I showed him the Draughts, he would approve them instantly, but if I neglected to make them known to him he would at some later time examine them with great Intensity and discover all manner of seeming Faults.