Alexander Pope to Lady M. W. Montagu-The Death of two Lovers by Lightning.

hears the sermon with humility every Sunday, not having confounded the sentiments of natural duty in her head by the vain inquiries of the schools, who may be more learned, but, after all, must remain as ignorant. And after having seen part of Asia and Africa, and almost made the tour of Europe, I think the honest English squire more happy who verily believes the Greek wines less delicious than March beer; that the African fruits have not so fine a flavor as golden pippins; that the Beca figuas of Italy are not so well tasted as a rump of beef; and that, in short, there is no perfect enjoyment of this life out of old England. I pray God I may think so for the rest of my life; and since I must be contented with our scanty allowance of daylight, that I may forget the enlivening sun of Constantinople.

I am, etc.

XIII. THE DEATH OF TWO LOVERS BY LIGHTNING.

Alexander Pope to Lady M. W. Montagu.

I have a mind to fill the rest of this paper with an accident that happened just under my eyes, and has made a great impression upon me. I have just passed part of this summer at an old romantic seat of my Lord Harcourt's, which he lent me. It overlooks a common field, where, under the shade of a haycock, sat two lovers, as constant as ever were found in romance, beneath a spreading beech. The name of the one (let it sound as it will) was John Hughes, of the other, Sarah Drew. John was a well-set man, about five-and-twenty; Sarah, a brown woman of eighteen. John had for several months borne the labor of the day in the same field with Sarah; when she milked,

Alexander Pope to Lady M. W. Montagu-The Death of two Lovers by Lightning.

it was his morning and evening charge to bring the cows to her pail. Their love was the talk, but not the scandal, of the whole neighborhood; for all they aimed at was the blameless possession of each other in marriage. It was but this very morning that he had obtained her parents' consent, and it was but till the next week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps this very day, in the intervals of their work, they were talking of their wedding clothes; and John was now matching several kinds of poppies and field flowers to her complexion, to make her a present of knots for the day. While they were thus employed (it was on the last of July), a terrible storm of thunder and lightning arose and drove the laborers to what shelter the trees or hedges afforded. Sarah, frightened and out of breath, sunk on a haycock, and John (who never separated from her) sate by her side, having raked two or three heaps together to secure her. Immediately there was heard so loud a crack as if heaven had burst asunder. The laborers, all solicitous for each other's safety, called to one another; those that were nearest to our lovers, hearing no answer, stepped to the place where they lay. They first saw a little smoke, and after, this faithful pair; John with one arm about his Sarah's neck, and the other held over her face, as if to screen her from the lightning. They were struck dead, and already grown stiff and cold, in this tender posture. There was no mark or discoloring on their bodies, only that Sarah's eyebrow was a little singed, and a small place between her breasts. They were buried the next day in one grave, in the parish of Stanton-Harcourt, in Oxfordshire, where my Lord Harcourt, at my request, has erected a monument over them. Of the following epitaphs which I made, the critics have chosen the godly one. I like neither, but wish you had been in England

Alexander Pope to Lady M. W. Montagu-The Death of two Lovers by Lightning.

to have done this office better; I think 'twas what you could not have refused me on so moving an occasion:

When Eastern lovers feed the fun'ral fire,
On the same pile their faithful fair expire;
Here pitying Heav'n, that virtue mutual found,
And blasted both, that it might neither wound.
Hearts so sincere th' Almighty saw well pleased,
Sent His own lightning, and the victims seized.

Think not, by rig'rous judgment seized,

A pair so faithful could expire;

Victims so pure Heav'n saw well pleased,
And snatched them in celestial fire.

Live well, and fear no sudden fate;
When God calls virtue to the grave,

Alike 'tis justice, soon or late,

Mercy alike to kill or save.

Virtue, unmoved, can hear the call,

And face the flash that melts the ball.

Upon the whole, I can't think these people unhappy. The greatest happiness, next to living as they would have done, was to die as they did. The greatest honor people of this low degree could have, was to be remembered on a little monument, unless you will give them another-that of being honored with a tear from the finest eyes in the world. I know you have tenderness; you must have it, it is the very emanation of sense and virtue; the finest minds, like the finest metals, dissolve the easiest.

But when you are reflecting upon objects of pity, pray do not forget one who had no sooner found out an object of the highest esteem, than he was separated from it; and who is so very unhappy as not to be susceptible of consolation from others, by

Lady M. W. Montagu to Alexander Pope-In Reply.

being so miserably in the right as to think other women what they really are. Such a one can't but be desperately fond of any creature that is quite different from these.

XIV.-IN REPLY.

Lady M. W. Montagu to Alexander Pope.

DOVER, Nov. 1, O. £., 1718.

I have this minute received a letter of yours, sent me from Paris. I believe and hope I shall very soon see both you and Mr. Congreve; but as I am here in an inn, where we stay to regulate our march to London, bag and baggage, I shall employ some of my leisure time in answering that part of yours that seems to require an answer.

I must applaud your good nature in supposing that your pastoral lovers (vulgarly called haymakers) would have lived in everlasting joy and harmony if the lightning had not interrupted their scheme of happiness. I see no reason to imagine that John Hughes and Sarah Drew were either wiser or more virtuous than their neighbors. That a well-set man of twenty-five should have a fancy to marry a brown woman of eighteen, is nothing marvellous; and I cannot help thinking that, had they married, their lives would have passed in the common track with their fellow-parishioners. His endeavoring to shield her from a storm was a natural action, and what he certainly would have done for his horse, if he had been in the same situation. Neither am I of opinion that their sudden death was a reward of their mutual virtue. You know the Jews were reproved for thinking a village destroyed by fire more wicked than those that had escaped the thunder. Time and chance happen to all men.

Since you

Lady M. W. Montagu to Alexander Pope-In Reply.

desire me to try my skill in an epitaph, I think the following lines perhaps more just, but not so poetical as yours:

Here lie John Hughes and Sarah Drew;
Perhaps you'll say, What's that to you?
Believe me, friend, much may be said
On this poor couple that are dead.

On Sunday next they should have married,
But see how oddly things are carried!
On Thursday last it rained and lightened,
These tender lovers, sadly frightened,
Sheltered beneath the cocking hay,
In hopes to pass the time away.
But the bold thunder found them out
(Commissioned for that end no doubt),
And, seizing on their trembling breath,
Consigned them to the shades of death.
Who knows if 'twas not kindly done?
For, had they seen the next year's sun,
A beaten wife and cuckold swain
Had jointly cursed the marriage chain.
Now they are happy in their doom,

For Pope has wrote upon their tomb.

I confess these sentiments are not altogether so heroic as yours; but I hope you will forgive them in favor of the last two lines. You see how much I esteem the honor you have done them; though I am not very impatient to have the same, and had rather continue to be your stupid, living, humble servant, than to be celebrated by all the pens in Europe.

I would write to Congreve, but suppose you will read this to him if he inquires after me.'

A more interesting and circumstantial account is given by Gay in one of his letters to Pope. That of Pope, borrowed from it, has been selected, as