* and Mother both in one. These are all the circumstances that I could "learn of Doctor Young's Life, which might have given occasion to ma66. ny. obfcene fictions: But as I know thofe would never have gained a place in your paper, I have not troubled you with any impertinence of "that nature; having stuck to the truth very scrupulously, as I always do "when I fubfcribe my felf,

SIR, Tour, &c.

I fhall add, as a Postscript to this Letter, that I am informed, the famous Saltero, who fells Coffee in his Mufæum at Chelsea, has by him a curiofity which helped the Doctor to carry on his Impofture, and will give great fatisfaction to the curious Inquirer.

N° 229. Tuesday, September 26.. 1710.

Quæfitam meritis fume fuperbiam.

T

From my own Apartment, September 25.

Hor.

HE whole Creation preys upon it felf: Every living Creature is inhabited. A Flea has a thousand invisible Infects that teaze him

as he jumps from place to place, and revenge our quarrels upon him. A very ordinary Microfcope fhows us, that a Loufe is it felf a very loufie creature. A Whale, befides thofe Seas and Oceans in the several veffels of his body, which are filled with innumerable thoals of little Animals, carries about it a whole world of inhabitants; infomuch that, if we believe the calculations fome have made, there are more living Creatures which are too small for the naked eye to behold about the Leviathan, than there are of visible Creatures upon the face of the whole Earth. Thus every nobler Creature is at it were the bafis and fupport of multitudes that are his inferiors.

This confideration very much comforts me, when I think on those numberless Vermin that feed upon this paper, and find their sustenance out of it; I mean, the fmall Wits and Scribblers that every day turn a Penny

Penny by nibbling at my Lucubrations. This has been so advantageous to this little fpecies of writers, that, if they do me juftice, I may expect to have my Statue erected in Grub-street, as being a common Benefactor to that quarter.

They fay, when a Fox is very much troubled with Fleas, he goes into the next pool with a little lock of wool in his mouth, and keeps his body under water till the Vermin get into it, after which he quits the wool, and diving, leaves his tormentors to thift for themselves, and get their livelihood where they can. I would have thefe Gentlemen take care that I do not ferve them after the fame manner; for though I have hitherto kept my temper pretty well, it is not impoffible but I may fome time or other difappear; and what will then become of them? Should I lay down my paper, what a famine would there be among the Hawkers, Printers, Bookfellers and Authors? it would be like Dr. B---s's dropping his Cloak, with the whole congregation hanging upon the Skirts of it. To enumerate fome of thefe my doughty Antagonists, I was threatened to be answered weekly Tit for Tat: I was undermined by the Whisperer, haunted by Tom Brown's Ghoft, fcolded at by a Female Tatler, and flandered by another of the fame character, under the title of Atalantis. I have been annotated, retattled, examined, and condoled: But it being my standing maxim, Never to fpeak ill of the dead; I fhall let these Authors reft in peace, and take great pleasure in thinking that I have fometimes been the means of their getting a belly-full. When I fee my felf thus furrounded by fuch formidable enemies, I often think of the Knight of the Red Cross in Spencer's Den of Error, who after he has cut off the Dragon's head, and left it wallowing in a flood of Ink, fees a thousand monftrous Reptiles making their attempts upon him, one with many heads, another with none, and all of them without eyes.

The fame fo fore annoyed has the Knight,

That well nigh choaked with the deadly flink,
His forces fail, he can no longer fight;

Whofe courage when the Fiend perceived to shrink,
She poured forth out of her hellish Sink
Her fruitful curfed fpawn of Serpents Small,
Deformed Monsters, foul, and black as Ink;
Which fwarming all about bis legs did crawl,
And him encombred fore, but could not hurt at all.

As

As gentle Shepherd in fweet even-tide,
When ruddy Phoebus gins to welk in Weft,
High on an hill, his Flock to viewen wide,
Marks which do bite their hafty supper best;
A cloud of combrous Gnats do him moleft,
All ftriving to infix their feeble ftings,
That from their noyance he no where can reft;
But with his clownish hands their tender wings

He brufbeth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

If ever I fhould want fuch a fry of little Authors to attend me, I fhall think my paper in a very decaying condition. They are like Ivy about an Oak, which adorns the tree at the fame time that it eats into it; or like a great man's Equipage, that do honour to the perfon on whom they feed. For my part, when I fee my felf thus attacked, I do not confider my Antagonists as malicious, but hungry, and therefore am resolved never to take any notice of them.

As for those who detract from my labours without being prompted to it by an empty stomach, in return to their cenfures I fhall take pains to excel, and never fail to perfwade my self, that their enmity is nothing but their envy or ignorance.

Give me leave to conclude, like an Old man and a Moralist, with a Fable:

The Owls, Bats, and several other birds of night, were one day got to gether in a thick fhade, where they abused their Neighbours in a very fociable manner. This Satyr at last fell upon the Sun, whom they all agreed: to be very troublefome, impertinent, and inquifitive. Upon which the Sun, who overheard them, spoke to them after this manner: Gentlemen, I wonder how you dare abufe one that you know could in an instant fcorch you up, and burn every Mother's Son of you: But the only an fwer I fhall give you, or the revenge I fhall take of you, is, to fhine on.

Thursday,

I

N° 239. Thursday, October 19. 1710.

Mecum certaffe feretur.

From my own Apartment, October 18.

Ovid.

Tis ridiculous for any man to criticife on the works of another, who has not distinguished himfelf by his own Performances. A Judge would make but an indifferent figure who had never been known at the Bar. Cicero was reputed the greatest Orator of his age and country before he wrote a book De Oratore; and Horace the greatest Poet before he published his Art of Poetry. The obfervation arifes naturally in any one who cafts his eye upon this laft mentioned Author, where he will find the Criticisms placed in the latter end of his book, that is, after the finest Odes and Satyrs in the Latin Tongue.

A Modern, whofe name I fhall not mention, because I would not make a filly paper fell, was born a Critick and an Examiner, and, like one of the race of the Serpent's teeth, came into the world with a Sword in his hand. His works put me in mind of the story that is told of a German Monk, who was taking a Catalogue of a friend's Library, and meeting with a Hebrew book in it, entered it under the title of, A Book that has the Beginning where the End should be. This Author, in the laft of his Crudities, has amaffed together a heap of Quotations, to prove that Horace and Virgil were both of them modefter men than my felf, and if his works were to live as long as mine, they might poffibly give pofterity a notion, that Ifaac Bickerstaffe was a very conceited old Fellow, and as vain a man as either Tully or Sir Francis Bacon. Had this ferious writer fallen upon me only, I could have overlooked it; but to fee Cicero abused, is, I must confefs, what I cannot bear. The cenfure he paffes upon this great Man runs thus; The Itch of being very abusive, is almost inSeparable from vain-glory. Tully has these two faults in fo high a degree, that nothing but his being the best writer in the world can make amends

for

for them. The fcurrilous wretch goes on to fay I am as bad as Tully. His words are thefe; and yet the Tatler, in his paper of September 26, has outdone him in both. He speaks of himself with more arrogance, and • with more infolence of others. I am afraid, by his difcourfe, this Gentleman has no more read Plutarch than he has Tully. If he had, he would have obferved a paffage in that Historian, wherein he has with great delicacy diftinguished between two Paffions which are ufually complicated in humane nature, and which an ordinary writer would not have thought of feparating. Not having my Greek Spectacles by me, I thall quote the paffage word for word as I find it tranflated to my hand. Nevertheless, though he was intemperately fond of his own praife, yet he was very free from envying others, and most liberally profufe in commending both the Antients and his Contemporaries, as is to be understood by his writings; and many of those fayings are ftill recorded, as that concerning Ariftotle, That he was a river of flowing Gold: Of Plato's Dialogue, That if Jupiter were to speak, he would difcourfe as he did. Theophraftus he was wont to call his peculiar delight; and being asked, Which of Demofthenes his Orations he liked beft? He answered, The longest.

And as for Eminent men of his own time, either for Eloquence or Philofophy, there was not one of them whom he did not, by writing or speaking favourably of, render more illuftrious.

Thus the Critick tells us, That Cicero was exceffively vain-glorious and abufive; Plutarch, that he was vain, but not abufive. Let the Reader believe which of them he pleases.

After this he complains to the world, that I call him names; and that in my paffion I faid, He was a Flea, a Loufe, an Owl, a Bat, a small Wit, a Scribler, and a Nibler. When he has thus bespoken his Reader's pity, he falls into that admirable vein of mirth, which I fhall fet down at length, it being an exquifite piece of Raillery, and written in great gaiety of heart. After this Lift of names, (viz. Flea, Louse, Owl, Bat, &c.) I was furprised to hear him fay, that he has hitherto kept his temper pretty well; I wonder how he will write when he has loft his temper? I fuppofe, as he now is very angry and unmannerly, he will then be exceeding courteous and good-humoured. If I can outlive this Raillery, I fhall be able to bear any thing.

There is a method of Criticifm made ufe of by this Author, (for I fhall take care how I call him a Scribler again) which may turn into Ridicule any work that was ever written, wherein there is a variety of thoughts: This the Reader will obferve in the following words; He (meaning me) VOL. II.

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