ing thefe falfe reports, he ought to confider, that the effect of them is equally prejudicial and pernicious to the perfon at whom they are aimed. The injury is the fame, though the principle from whence it proceeds may be different. As every one looks upon himself with too much indulgence, when he paffes a judgment on his own thoughts or actions, and as very few will be thought guilty of this abominable proceeding, which is fo univerfally practifed, and, at the fame time, fo univerfally blamed, I fhall lay down three rules by which I would have a man examine and fearch into his own heart, before he ftands acquitted to himself of that evil difpofition of mind which I am here mentioning. First of all, let him confider whether he does not take delight in hearing the faults of others. Secondly, Whether he is not too apt to believe fuch little blackening accounts, and more inclined to be credulous on the uncharitable, than on the good-natured fide. Thirdly, Whether he is not ready to spread and propagate fuch reports as tend to the difreputation of another. These are the feveral fteps by which this vice proceeds, and grows up into flander and defamation. In the first place, a man who takes delight in hearing the faults of others, fhews fufficiently that he has a true relifh of fcandal, and confequently the feeds of this vice within him. If his mind is gratified with hearing the reproaches which are caft on others, he will find the fame pleasure in relating them, and be the more apt to do it, as he will naturally imagine every one he converfes with is delighted in the fame manner with himself. A man fhould endeavour therefore to wear out of his mind this criminal curiofity, which is perpetually heigh tened tened and inflamed by listening to fuch ftories as tend to the difreputation of others. In the fecond place, a man fhould confult his own heart, whether he be not apt to believe fuch little blackening accounts, and more inclined to be credulous on the uncharitable, than on the goodnatured fide. Such a credulity is very vicious in itself, and generally arifes from a man's confcioufnefs of his own fecret corruptions. It is a pretty faying of Thales, Falfehood is juft as far diftant from truth, as the ears are from the eye. By which he would intimate, that a wife man fhould not easily give credit to the reports of actions which he has not feen. I fhall under this head mention two or three remarkable rules to be obferved by the members of the celebrated Abbé de la Trappe, as they are published in a little French book. The fathers are there ordered, never to give an ear to any accounts of bafe or criminal actions; to turn off all fuch difcourfe if poffible; but in case they hear any thing of this nature, fo well attefted that they cannot difbelieve it, they are then to fuppofe, that the criminal action may have proceeded from a good intention in him who was guilty of it. This is, perhaps, carrying charity to an extravagance, but it is certainly much more laudable, than to fuppofe, as the ill-natured part of the world does, that indifferent, and even good actions, proceed from bad principles, and wrong intentions. In the third place, A man fhould examine his heart, whether he does not find in it a fecret inclination to propagate fuch reports, as tend to the dif reputation of another. When the difeafe of the mind, which I have hitherto been speaking of, arifes to this degree of malignity, it discovers itself in its worst fymptom, and is in danger of becoming incurable, I need not therefore infift upon the guilt in this particular, which every one cannot but difapprove, who is not void of humanity, or even common difcretion. I fhall only add, that whatever pleasure any man may take in spreading whispers of this nature, he will find an infinitely greater fatisfaction in conquering the temptation he is under, by letting the fecret die within his own breast. No 595. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17. IF Non ut placidis coëant immitia, non ut HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 12. Nature, and the common laws of sense, Forbid to reconcile antipathies; Or make a snake engender with a dove, F ordinary authors would condefcend to write as they think, they would at least be allowed the praife of being intelligible. But they really take pains to be ridiculous; and, by the ftudied ornaments of stile, perfectly disguise the little fenfe they aim at. There is a grievance of this fort in the commonwealth of letters, which I have for fome time refolved to redrefs, and accordingly I have fet this day apart for juftice. What I mean is, the mixture of inconfiftent metaphors, which is a fault but too often found in learned writers, but in all the unlearned without exception. In order to fet this matter in a clear light to every reader, I fhall in the firft place obferve, that a metaphor is a fimile in one word, which ferves to convey the thoughts of the mind under refemblances and images which affect the fenfes. There is not any thing in the world, which may not be compared compared to feveral things, if confidered in feveral diftinct lights; or, in other words, the fame thing may be expreffed by different metaphors. But the mifchief is, that an unfkilful author fhall run these metaphors fo abfurdly into one another, that there fhall be no fimile, no agreeable picture, no apt refemblance, but confufion, obfcurity, and noife. Thus I have known a hero compared to a thunderbolt, a lion, and the fea; all and each of them proper metaphors for impetuofity, courage, and force. But by bad management it hath fo happened, that the thunderbolt hath overflowed its banks; the lion hath been darted through the fkies, and the billows have rolled out of the Libyan defert. The abfurdity in this inftance is obvious. And yet every time that clashing metaphors are put together, this fault is committed more or lefs. It hath already been faid, that metaphors are images of things which affect the fenfes. An image therefore taken from what acts upon the fight, cannot, without violence, be applied to the hearing; and fo of the reft. It is no lefs an impropriety to makė any being in nature or art to do things in its metaphorical state, which it could not do in its original. I fhall illuftrate what I have faid by an inftance which I have read more than once in controverfial writers. The heavy lafbes, faith a celebrated author, that have dropped from your pen, &c. I fuppofe this gentleman, having frequently heard of gall dropping from a pen, and being lafhed in a fatire, he was refolved to have them both at any rate, and so uttered this complete piece of nonfenfe. It will more effectually difcover the abfurdity of these monftrous unions, if we will fuppofe thefe metaphors or images actually painted. Imagine then a hand holding a pen, and feveral lafhes of whipcord falling from it, and you have the true reprefentation of this fort of eloquence. I believe, by this very rule, a reader may be able to judge of the union of all metaphors whatsoever, and determine which are homogeneous, and which heterogeneous: Or, to speak more plainly, which are confiftent, and which inconfiftent. There is yet one evil more which I must take notice of, and that is the running of metaphors into tedious allegories; which, though an error on the better hand, causes confufion as much as the other. This becomes abominable, when the luftre of one word leads a writer out of his road, and makes him wander from his fubject for a page together. I remember a young fellow of this turn, who having faid by chance, that his miftrefs had a world of charms, thereupon took occafion to confider her as one poffeffed of frigid and torrid zones, and purfued her from the one pole to the other. I fhall conclude this paper with a letter written in that enormous ftile, which I hope my reader hath by this time fet his heart againft. The epiftle hath heretofore received great applaufe; but after what hath been faid, let any man commend it if he dare. SIR, AF FTER the many heavy lashes that have fallen from your pen, you may juftly expect in return all the load that my ink can lay upon your 'fhoulders. You have quartered all the foul lan guage upon me, that could be raked out of the air of Billingsgate, without knowing who I am, or whether I deferve to be cupped and facrificed at this rate. I tell you once for all, turn your eyes where you pleafe, you fhall never smell me ' out. Do you think that the panics, which you fow about the parish, will ever build a monument to your glory? No, Sir, you may fight these battles as long as you will, but when you come to • ballance the account you will find that you have • been |