Peter Ackroyd - Hawksmoor

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.