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 *q£aa* 
 
 ax3JLAA*<XA/b 
 
 A 
 
 TALE OF A TUB, 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 FOR THE UNIVERSAL IMPROVEMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 MANKIND. 
 
 DIU MULTUMQUE DESIDERATUM. 
 
 To which is added, 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF A BATTLE 
 
 BETWEEN THE 
 
 Ancient and Modern Books 
 
 IN ST. JAMES'S LIBFARY. 
 
 WITH 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY, 
 
 AND 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES, BY W. WOTTON, B.D. 
 
 AND OTHERS. 
 
 Basyma caeabasa eanaa irraumista, diarbada caeota bafobor 
 cameianthi. Ircn. Lib. 1. C. 18. 
 
 -Juvatoue novos decerpere flores, 
 
 Insignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam, 
 Unde prius nulli velarunt tempora Musae. Lucret. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 
 
 HI, CHEAFSIDE. 
 1S11. 
 

3?V 
 
 ?Y 
 
 Treatises wrote by the same Author, most of them men- 
 tioned in the following Discourses ; which will be 
 speedily published. 
 
 A Character of the present set o/Wits in this Island, 
 
 A Panegyrical Essay upon the Number THREE. 
 
 A Dissertation upon the principal productions of Grub- 
 street. 
 
 Lectures upon a Dissection of Human "Nature. 
 
 A Panegyric upon the World. 
 
 An Analytical Discourse upon Zeal, Histori-theophysi- 
 logicaJly considered. 
 
 A general History of Ears. 
 
 A modest Defence of the Proceedings of the Rabble in all 
 Ages. 
 
 A Description of the Kingdom of Absurdities. 
 
 A Voyage into England, by a Person of Quality in Terra 
 Australis incognita, translated from the Original. 
 
 A Critical Essay upon the Art of Canting, Philosophi- 
 cally, Physically, and Musically considered. 
 
* \ 
 
AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 IF good and ill nature equally operated upon 
 mankind, I might have saved myself the trouble 
 of this Apology; for it is manifest by the recep- 
 tion the following discourse hath met with, that 
 those who approve it, are a great majority 
 among the men of taste : yet there have been 
 two or three treatises written expressly against 
 it, besides many others that have flirted at it 
 occasionally, without one syllable having been 
 ever published in its defence, or even quotation 
 to its advantage, that I can remember, except 
 by the polite author of a late discourse between 
 a deist and a Socinian. 
 
 Therefore, since the book seems calculated to 
 live at least as long as our language, and our 
 taste admit no great alterations, I am content 
 to convey some apology along with it. 
 
 The greatest part of that book was finished 
 about thirteen years since, IG96, which is eight 
 
 B 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 years before it was published. The author was 
 then young, his invention at the height, and 
 his reading fresh in his head. By the assist- 
 ance of some thinking, and much conversation, 
 he had endeavoured to strip himself of as many 
 real prejudices as he could ; I say real ones, be- 
 cause under the notion of prejudices, he knew 
 to what dangerous heights some men have pro- 
 ceeded. Thus prepared, he thought the numer- 
 ous and gross corruptions in religion and learn- 
 ing might furnish matter for a satire, that would 
 be useful and diverting: he resolved to proceed 
 in a manner, that should be altogether new, the 
 world having been already too long nauseated 
 with endless repetitions upon every subject. 
 The abuses in religion he proposed to set forth 
 in the allegory of the coats, and the three bro- 
 thers, which was to make up the body of the 
 discourse. Those in learning he chose to intro- 
 duce by way of digressions. He was then a 
 young gentleman much in the world, and wrote 
 to the taste of those who were like himself; 
 therefore, in order to allure them, he gave a 
 liberty to his pen, which might not suit with 
 maturer years, or graver characters, and which 
 he could have easily corrected with a very few 
 blots, had he been master of his papers for a year 
 or two before their publication. 
 
 Not that he would have governed his judg- 
 
THE AUTHOP^S APOLOGY. 3 
 
 ment by the ill-placed cavils of the sour, the 
 envious, the stupid, and the tasteless, which he 
 mentions with disdain. He acknowledges there 
 are several youthful sallies, which from the 
 grave and the wise may deserve a rebuke. But 
 he desires to be answerable no farther than he 
 is guilty, and that his faults may not be multi- 
 plied by the ignorant, the unnatural, and un- 
 charitable applications of those who have nei- 
 ther candor to suppose good meanings, nor pa- 
 late to distinguish true ones. After which, he 
 will forfeit his life, if any one opinion can be 
 fairly deduced from that book, which is contrary 
 to religion or morality. 
 
 Why should any clergyman of our church be 
 angry to see the follies of fanaticism and super- 
 stition exposed, though in the most ridiculous 
 manner? since that is perhaps the most proba- 
 ble way to cure them, or at least to hinder them 
 from farther spreading. Besides, though it 
 was not intended for their perusal; it rallies no- 
 thing but what they preach against. It con- 
 tains nothing to provoke them by the least scur- 
 rility upon their persons or their functions. It 
 celebrates the church of England as the moat 
 perfect of all others in discipline and doctrine, 
 it advances no opinion they reject, nor con- 
 demns any they receive. If the clergy's resent- 
 ments lay upon their hands, in my humble opi- 
 B 2 
 
 i 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 nion, they might have found more proper objects 
 to employ them on: nondum tibi defuit hostis; 
 I mean those heavy, illiterate scriblers, prosti- 
 tute in their reputations, vicious in their lives, 
 and ruined in their fortunes ; who, to the shame 
 of good sense as well as piety, are greedily read, 
 merely upon the strength of bold, false, impi- 
 ous assertions, mixed with unmannerly reflec- 
 tions upon the priesthood, and openly intended 
 against all religion; in short, full of such prin- 
 ciples as are kindly received, because they are 
 levelled to remove those terrors that religion 
 tells men will be the consequence of immoral 
 lives. Nothing lil^e which is to be met with in 
 this discourse, though some of them are pleased 
 so freely to censure it. And I wish, there were 
 no other instance of what I have too frequently 
 observed, that many of that reverend body are 
 not always very nice in distinguishing between 
 their enemies and their friends. 
 
 Had the authorVintentions met with a more 
 candid interpretation from some, whom out of 
 respect he forbears to name, he might have been 
 encouraged to an examination of books written 
 by some of those authors above described, whose 
 errors, ignorance, dullness and villainy, he 
 thinks he could have detected and exposed in 
 such a manner, that the persons who are most 
 conceived to be infected by them, would soon 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 lay them aside and be ashamed: but he has 
 now given over those thoughts, since the 
 weightiest men* in the weightiest stations, are 
 pleased to think it a more dangerous point to 
 laugh at those corruptions in religion, which 
 they themselves muse disapprove, than to endea- 
 vour pulling up those very foundations, wherein 
 all Christians have agreed. 
 
 He thinks it no fair proceeding, that any per- 
 son should offer determinately to fix a name 
 upon the author of this discourse, who hath all 
 along concealed himself from most of his near- 
 est friends : yet several have gone a farther step, 
 and pronounced another bookf to have bee^ 
 the work of the same hand with this : which the 
 author directly affirms to be a thorough mistake ; 
 he having yet never so much as read that dis- 
 course: a plain instance how little truth there 
 often is in general surmises, or in conjectures 
 drawn from a similitude of stile, or way of think- 
 ing. 
 
 Had the author written a book to expose the 
 abuses in law, or in physick, he believes the 
 learned professors in either faculty, would have 
 been so far from resenting it, as to have given 
 
 * Alluding to Dr. Sharp, the Archbishop of York** re- 
 presentation of the author. Hawkesworth. 
 f Letter concerning Enthusiasm. 
 B 3 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY, 
 
 him thanks for his pains, especially if he had 
 made an honourable reservation for the tru$ 
 practice of either science : but religion, they tell 
 us, ought not to be ridiculed; and, they tell us 
 truth : yet surely the corruptions in it may; for 
 we are taught by the tritest maxim in the world, 
 that religion being the best of things, its cor- 
 ruptions are likely to be the worst. 
 
 There is one thing which the judicious readei 
 cannot but have observed, that some of those 
 passages in this discourse, which appear most 
 liable to objection, are what they call parodies, 
 where the author personates the style and man- 
 ner of other writers, whom he has a mind to 
 expose. I shall produce one instance, it is 
 towards the end of the Introduction. Dry- 
 den, L'Estrange, and some others I shall 
 not name., are here levelled at, who having 
 spent their lives in faction, and apostacies, 
 and all manner of vice, pretended to be 
 sufferers for loyalty and religion. So Dryden 
 tells us in one of his Prefaces of his merits and 
 sufferings, thanks God that he possesses his soul 
 in patience : in other places he talks at the 
 game rate, and L'Estrange often uses the like 
 stile, and I believe the reader may find more 
 persons to give that passage an application: 
 but this is enough to direct those who may I 
 have overlooked the author's intention. 
 
 There are three or four other passages which 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY, 
 
 prejudiced or ignorant readers have drawn by 
 great force to hint at ill meanings; as if they 
 glanced at some tenets in religion. In answer 
 to all which, the author solemnly protests he is 
 entirely innocent, and never had it once in his 
 thoughts that any thing he said would in the 
 least be capable of such interpretations, which 
 he will eogage to deduce full as fairly from the 
 most innocent book in the world. And it will 
 be obvious to every reader, that this was not 
 any part of his scheme or design; the abuses he 
 notes, being such as all church of England men 
 agree in; nor was it proper for his subject to 
 meddle with other points, than such as have 
 been perpetually controverted since the Refor- 
 mation. 
 
 To instance only in that passage about the 
 three wooden machines mentioned in the intro- 
 duction: in the original manuscript there was 
 a description of a fourth, which those w r ho had 
 the papers in their power, blotted out, as hav- 
 ing something in it of satire, that I suppose 
 they thought was too particular, and therefore 
 they were forced to change it to the number 
 three, from whence some have endeavoured to 
 squeeze out a dangerous meaning that was ne- 
 ver thought on. And indeed, the conceit was 
 half spoiled by changing the numbers; that of 
 four being much more cabalistick, and there- 
 
 b 4 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 fore better exposing the pretended virtue of 
 numbers, a superstition there intended to be 
 ridiculed. 
 
 Another thing to be observed, is, that there 
 generally runs an irony through the thread of 
 the whole book, which the men of taste will 
 observe and distinguish, and which will render 
 some objections that have been made, very weak 
 and insignificant. 
 
 This Apology being chiefly intended for the 
 satisfaction of future readers, it may be thought 
 unnecessary to take any notice of such treatises 
 as have been writ against the ensuing discourse, 
 which are already sunk into waste paper and 
 oblivion; after the usual fate of common answer- 
 ers to books, which are allowed to have any 
 merit : they are, indeed, like annuals that grow 
 about a young tree, and seem to vie with it for 
 a summer, but fall and die with the leaves in 
 autumn, and are never heard of any more. 
 When Dr. Echard writ his book about the con- 
 tempt of the clergy, numbers of those answerers 
 immediately started up, whose memory, if he 
 had not kept alive by his replies, it would now 
 be utterly unknown that he were ever answered 
 at all. There is, indeed, an exception, when 
 any great genius thinks it worth his while to ex- 
 pose a foolish piece; so we still xead MarvelY 
 
^THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 9 
 
 answer to Parker* with pleasure, though the 
 book it answers be sunk long ago; so the Earl 
 of Orrery's Remarks will be read with delight, 
 when the Dissertation he exposes will neither be 
 sought nor found :f but these are no enterprizes 
 for common hands, nor to be hoped for above 
 once or twice in an age. Men w r ould be more 
 cautious of losing their time in such an under- 
 taking, if they did but consider that to answer a 
 book effectually, requires more pains and skill, 
 more wit, learning, and judgment than were 
 employed in the writing it. And the author 
 assures those gentlemen who have given them- 
 selves that trouble with him, that his Discourse 
 is the product of the study, the observation, and 
 the invention of several years; that he often 
 blotted out much more than he left, and if his 
 papers had not been a long time out of his pos- 
 session, they must have still undergone more 
 severe corrections: and do they think such a 
 building is to be battered with dirt-pellets, how- 
 
 * Parker, afterwards Bishop of Oxford, wrote many 
 treatises against the Dissenters, with insolence and con 
 tempt, says Burnet, that enraged them beyond measure ; 
 for which he was chastised by Andrew Marvel, under- 
 secretary to Milton, in a little book called, The Rehearsal 
 Transposed. JIazvkes. 
 
 f Boyle's Remarks upon Bentley's Dissertation on th$ 
 Epistles of Phalaris, Haukes. 
 
 » 5 
 
10 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 ever envenomed the mouths may be that dis- 
 charge them? He hath seen the productions but 
 of two answerers, one of which at first appeared 
 as from an unknown hand, but since avowed by 
 a person/* who, upon some occasions, hath dis- 
 covered no ill vein of humour. 'Tis a pity any 
 occasion should put him under a necessity of 
 being so hasty in his productions, which other- 
 wise might often be entertaining. But there 
 were other reasons obvious enough for his mis- 
 carriage in this ; he writ against the conviction 
 of his talent, and entered upon one of the 
 wrongest attempts in nature, to turn into ridi- 
 cule by a week's labour, a work which had cost 
 so much time, and met with so much success in 
 ridiculing others: the manner how he han- 
 dled his subject, I have now forgot, having just 
 looked it over when it first came out, as others 
 did, merely for the sake of the title.f 
 
 The other answer is from a person of a graver 
 character, and is made up of half invective, and 
 
 * Supposed to be Dr. William King, the civilian, author 
 of an Account of Denmark, a Dissertation on Sampiars, 
 and other pieces of burlesque on the Royal Society, and 
 the Art of Cookery, in imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry, 
 '&c. Httwkes.* " ■ • 
 
 f This we cannot recover at present ; it being so abso- 
 lutely forgotten; the oldest booksellers in trade remember 
 nothing; of it. Hawkcs. ; ' 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. II 
 
 » ■ ■ a \ . ' ■ i , . - . - ■ , 
 
 half annotation.* In the latter of which he 
 hath generally succeeded well enough. And the 
 project at that time was not amiss, to draw in 
 readers to his pamphlet, several having appear- 
 ed desirous that there might be some explication 
 of the more difficult passages. Neither can he 
 be altogether blamed for offering at the invec- 
 tive part, because it is agreed on all hands that 
 the author had given him a sufficient provoca- 
 tion. The great objection is against his manner 
 of treating it, very unsuitable to one of his 
 function. It was determined by a fair majority, 
 that this answerer had, in a way not to be par- 
 doned, drawn his pen against a certain great 
 man then alive, and universally reverenced for 
 every good quality that could possibly enter into 
 the composition of the most accomplished per- 
 son; it was observed, how he was pleased and 
 affected to have that noble writer called his ad- 
 versary, and it was a point of satire well directed ; 
 for I have been told, Sir W. Temple w r as suffi- 
 
 * Wotton's Defence of his Reflections upon Ancient 
 and Modern Learning. From the annotations, are select- 
 ed the notes, signed W. VVotton. Thus, VVotton appears 
 busied to illustrate a work which he laboured to condemn, 
 and adxls force to a satire pointed against himself: as cap- 
 tives were bound to the chariot-wheel of the victor, and 
 compelled to increase the pomp of his triumph, whom 
 they -had in vain attempted to defeat. Hawkcs. 
 
 b6 
 
13 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 ciently mortified at the term. All the men of 
 ^wit and politeness were immediately up in arms, 
 through indignation, which prevailed over their 
 contempt, by the consequences they appre- 
 hended from such an example, and it grew to 
 be Porsenna's case; idem trecenti juravimus* 
 In short, things were ripe for a general insurrec- 
 tion, till my Lord Orrery had a little laid the 
 spirit, and settled the ferment. But his lord- 
 ship being principally engaged with another 
 antagonist*, it was thought necessary, in order 
 to quiet the minds of men, that this opposer 
 should receive a reprimand, which partly occa- 
 sioned that discourse of the Battle of the Books, 
 and the author was farther at the pains to insert 
 one or two remarks on him in the body of the 
 took. 
 
 This answer has been pleased to find fault 
 with about a dozen passages, which the author 
 will not be at the trouble of defending, farther 
 than by assuring the reader, that for the greater 
 part the reflecter is entirely mistaken, and forces 
 interpretations which never once entered into 
 the writer's head, nor will, he is sure, into that of 
 any reader of taste and candour; he allows two 
 or three at most there produced, to have been 
 delivered unwarily, for which he desires to plead 
 
 * Bentley, concerning Phalaris and iEsop, Hawk&. 
 
THE AUTHOR^ APOLOGY. 13 
 
 the excuse offered already, of his youth, and 
 frankness of speech, and his papers being out of 
 his power at the time they were published. 
 
 But this answerer insists, and says, what he 
 chiefly dislikes, is the design; what that was, I 
 have already told, and I believe there is not a 
 person in England who can understand that 
 book, that ever imagined it to have been any 
 thing else, but to expose the abuses and corrup- 
 tions in learning and religion. 
 
 But it would be good to know what design 
 this reflecter was serving, when he concludes 
 his pamphlet by a caution to readers, to beware 
 of thinking the author's wit was entirely his 
 own: surely this must have had some alley of 
 personal animosity, at least mixt with the design 
 of serving the public by so useful a discovery ; 
 and it indeed touches the author in a very ten- 
 der point, who insists upon it, that through the 
 whole book he has not borrowed one single hint 
 from any writer in the world ; and he thought, 
 of all criticisms, that would never have been one. 
 He conceived it was never disputed to be an ori- 
 ginal, whatever faults it might have. However 
 this answerer produces three instances to prove 
 this author's wit is not his own in many places. 
 The first is, that the names of Peter, Martin and 
 Jack, are borrowed from a letter of the late 
 
 ■ 
 
14 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 
 
 Duke of Buckingham*. Whatever wit is con- 
 tained in those three names, the author is con 
 tent to giveit upland desires his readerswill sub- 
 tract as much as they placed upon that account 
 at the same time protesting solemnly, that he 
 never once heard of that letter, except in this 
 passage of the answerer: so that the names were 
 not borrowed, as he affirms, though they should 
 happen to be the same, which however is odd 
 enough, and what he hardly believes : that of 
 Jack being not quite so obvious as the other two. 
 The second instance to shew the Author's wit is 
 not his own, is Peter's Banter (as he calls it in his 
 Alsatia phrase) upon transubstantiation, which 
 is taken from the same Duke's conference with 
 an Irish priest, where a cork is turned into a 
 horse. This the author confesses to have seen, 
 about ten years after his book was writ, and a 
 year or two after it was published. Nay, the 
 answerer overthrows this himself; for he allows 
 the tale was writ in 1697^ and I think that 
 pamphlet was not printed in many years after. 
 It was necessary that corruption shoud have 
 some allegory as well as the rest ; and the author 
 invented the properest he could, without enquire 
 ing what other people had written ; and the com- 
 monest reader will tind, there is not the least re- 
 
 * Villers, 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 15 
 
 semblance between the two stories. The third 
 instance is in these words : I have been assured, 
 that the battle in St. James's Library, is mutatis 
 mutandis, taken out of a French book, entituled, 
 Combat des Livres, if I misremember not*. In 
 which passage there are two clauses observable : 
 I have been assured ; and, if I misremember not. 
 I desire first to know, whether if that conjecture 
 proves an utter falsehood, those two clauses will 
 be a sufficient excuse for this worthy critic. The 
 matter is a trifle; but, would he venture -to pro- 
 nounce at this rate upon one of greater moment ? 
 I know nothing more contemptible in a writer 
 than the character of a plagiary; which he here 
 fixes at a venture, and this not for a passage, 
 but a whole discourse, taken out from another 
 book only mutatis mutandis. The author is a»s 
 much in the dark about this as the answerer; 
 and will imitate him by an affirmation at ran- 
 dom ; that if there be a word of truth in this re- 
 flection, he is a paultry, imitating pedant, and 
 the answerer is a person of wit, manners^ and 
 truth. He takes his boldness from never having 
 seen any such treatise in his life, nor heard of it 
 before ; and he is sure it is impossible for two 
 writers of different times and countries, to agree 
 in their thoughts after such a manner, that two 
 continued discourses shall be the same only mu- 
 tatis mutandis. Neither will he. insist upon tile 
 
16 the author's apologt. 
 
 mistake on the title; but let the answererand his 
 friend produce any book they please, he defies 
 them to shew one single particular, where the 
 judicious reader will affirm he has been obliged 
 for the smallest hint; giving only allowance for 
 the accidental encountering of a single thought, 
 which he knows may sometimes happen ; though 
 he has never yet found it in that discourse, nor 
 has heard it objected by any body else. 
 
 So that if ever any design was unfortunately 
 executed, it must be that of this answerer, who 
 when he would have it observed, that the 
 author's wit isnoneof his own, is able to produce 
 but three instances, two of them mere trifles, and 
 all three manifestly false. If this be the way 
 these gentlemen deal with the world in those 
 criticisms, where we have not leisure to defeat 
 them, their readers had need be cautions how 
 they rely upon their credit; and whether this 
 proceeding can be reconciled to humanity or 
 truth, let those who think it worth their while, 
 determine. 
 
 It is agreed, this answerer would have suc- 
 ceeded much better, if he had stuck wholly to 
 his business as a commentator upon the Tale of 
 a Tub, wherein it cannot be denyed, that he 
 hath been of some service to the public, and has 
 given very fair conjectures towards clearing up 
 some difficult passages ; but it is the frequent 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 17 
 
 error of those men (otherwise very commenda- 
 ble for their labours) to make excursions beyond 
 their talent and their office, by pretending to 
 point out the beauties and the faults; which is 
 no part of their trade, which they always fail in, 
 which the world never expected from them, nor 
 gave them any thanks for endeavouring at. The 
 part of Minellius, or Farnaby, # would have 
 fallen in with his genius, and might have been 
 servicable to many readers who cannot enter 
 into the abstruser parts of that discourse; but 
 optat ephippia bos piger : The dull, unwieldy, 
 ill-shaped ox would needs put on the furniture of 
 a horse, not considering he was born to labour, 
 to plough the ground for the sake of superior 
 beings, and that he has neither the shape, met- 
 tle nor speed of- that nobler animal he would 
 would affect to personate. 
 
 It is another pattern of this answerer's fair 
 dealing, to give us hints that the author is dead, 
 and yet to lay the suspicion upon some-body, I 
 know not who, in the country; to which can 
 only be returned, that he is absolutely mistaken 
 in all his conjectures ; and surely coujectures are 
 at best too light a pretence to allow a man to as* 
 
 * Low commentators, who wrote notes upon classic au- 
 thors for the use of school-boys. Huwkes* 
 
18 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 sign a name in public. He condemns a book, 
 and consequently the author, of whom he is 
 utterly ignorant, yet at the same time fixes in 
 print, what he thinks a disadvantageous charac- 
 ter upon those who never deserved it. A man 
 who receives a buffet in the dark, may be allowed 
 to be vexed ; but it is an odd kind of revenge 
 to go to cuffs in broad day with the first he 
 meets and lay the last night's injury at his door. 
 And thus much for this discreet, candid, pious, 
 and ingenious answerer. 
 
 How the author came to be withouthis papers, 
 is a story not proper to be told, and of very little 
 use, being a private fact, of which the reader 
 w r ould believe as little, or as much as he thought 
 good. He had however a blotted copy by him, 
 which he intended to have written over with many 
 alterations, and this* the publishers were well 
 aware of, having put it into the bookseller's pre- 
 face, that they apprehended a surreptitious copy, 
 which was to be altered, &c. This, though not 
 regarded by readers, was a real truth, only the 
 6urreptitiouscopy was rather that which was print- 
 ed, and they made all the haste they could, which 
 indeed was needless; the author not being at all 
 prepared: but he has been told, the bookseller 
 was in much pain, having given a good sum of 
 money for the copy* 
 
the author's apology. !Q 
 
 In the Author's original copy there were not 
 so many chasms as appear in the book; and why 
 some of them were left, he knows not : had the 
 publication been trusted to him, he would have 
 made several corrections of passages, against 
 which nothing hath ever been objected. He 
 would likewise have altered a few of those that 
 seem with any reason to be excepted against ; 
 but to deal freely the greatest number he should 
 have left untouched, as never suspecting it 
 possible any wrong interpretations could be 
 made of them. 
 
 The author observes, at the end of the book 
 there is a discourse, called, A Fragment; which 
 he more wondered to see in print than all the 
 rest. Having been a most imperfect sketch, 
 with the addition of a few loose hints, which he 
 once lent a gentleman who had designed a dis- 
 course of somewhat the same subject; he never 
 thought of it afterwards, and it was a sufficient 
 surprize to see it pieced up together, wholly ouJB 
 of the method and scheme he had intended; for 
 it was the ground-work of a much larger dis- 
 course, and he was sorry to observe the materials 
 so, foolishly employed. 
 
 There is one farther objection made by those 
 who have answered this book, as well as by some 
 -others, that Peter is frequently made to repeat 
 
£0 the author's apology. 
 
 oaths and curses. Every reader observes, it was 
 necessary to know that Peter did swear and 
 curse. The oaths are not printed out, but only 
 supposed, and the idea of an oath is not immoral, 
 like the idea of a profane or immodest speech. 
 A man may laugh at the Popish folly of cursing 
 people to hell, and imagine them swearing, 
 without any crime ; but lewd words or dangerous 
 opinions, though printed by halves, fill the rea- 
 der's mind with ill ideas ; and of these the author 
 cannot be accused. For the judicious reader 
 will find that the severest strokes of satyr in 
 his book are levelled against the modern custom 
 of employing wit upon those topics, of which 
 there is a remarkable instance in the 7th section^ 
 as well as in several others, though perhaps once 
 or twice exprest in too free a manner, excusable 
 only for the reasons already alledged. Some 
 
 overtures have been made bv a third hand to the 
 
 j 
 
 bookseller for the author's altering those pas- 
 sages which he thought might require it. But it 
 seems the bookseller will not hear of any such 
 thinjr, being apprehensive it might spoil the sale 
 of the book. 
 
 The author cannot conclude this apology, with- 
 out making this one reflection ; that, as wit is 
 the noblest and most useful gift of human nature, 
 so humour is the most agreeable; and where 
 
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 21 
 
 these two enter far into the composition of any 
 work, they will render it always acceptable to 
 the world. Now the greater part of those who 
 have no share or taste of either, but by their 
 pride, pedantry and ill manners, lay themselves 
 bare to the lashes of both, think the blow is weak 
 because they are insensible; and where wit hath 
 any mixture of raillery, 'tis but calling it banter, 
 and the work is done. This polite word of theirs 
 was first borrowed from the bullies in White- 
 Friers, then fell among the footmen, and at last 
 retired to the pedants, by whom it is applied as 
 properly to the productions of wit, as if I should 
 apply it to Sir Isaac Newton's mathematics: 
 but, if this bantering, as they call it, be so des- 
 pisable a thing, whence comes it to pass they 
 have such a perpetual itch towards it themselves ? 
 To instance only in the answerer, already men- 
 tioned*, it is grievious to see him in some of his 
 writings at every turn going out of his way to 
 be waggish, to tell us of a cow that pricked up her 
 tail: and in his answer to this discourse, he says, 
 it is all a farce and a ladle: with other passages 
 equally shining. One may say of these impedi- 
 menta Literarum, that wit owes them a shame ; 
 and they cannot take wiser counsel, than to 
 keep out of harm's way, or at least not to come 
 till they are sure they are called. 
 
&% THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 To conclude ; with those allowances above re- 
 quired, this book should be read, after which the 
 author conceives, few things will remain which 
 may not be excused in a young writer. He 
 wrote only to the men of wit and taste, and he 
 thinks he is not mistaken in his accounts, when he 
 says they have been all of his side, enough to 
 give him the vanity of telling his name, wherein 
 the world, with all its wise conjectures, is yet 
 very much in the dark; which circumstance is 
 no disagreeable amusement either to the public 
 or himself. 
 
 The author is informed, that the bookseller 
 has*prevailed on several gentlemen, to write some 
 explanatory notes, for the goodness of which he 
 is not to answer, having never seen any of them, 
 nor intending it, till they appear in print, when it 
 is not unlikely he may have the pleasure to find 
 twenty meanings, which never entered into his 
 imagination. 
 
 June 3, J 70S. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 SINCE the writing of this, which was about 
 a year ago, a prostitute bookseller hath publish- 
 ed a foolish paper, under the name of Notes on 
 the Tale of a Tub, with some account of the 
 author ; and with an insolence which I suppose 
 
THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 
 
 is punishable by law, hath presumed to assign cer- 
 tain names. It will be enough for the author to 
 assure the world, that the writer of that paper is 
 utterly wrong in all his conjectures upon that af- 
 fair. The author farther asserts that the whole 
 work is entirely of one hand, which every reader 
 of judgment will easily discover: the gentleman 
 who gave the copy to the bookseller, being a 
 friend of the author, and using no other liberties 
 besides that of expunging certain passages, 
 where now the chasms appear under the name 
 of desiderata. But if any person will prove his 
 claim to three lines in the whole book, let him 
 step forth and tell his name and titles, upon 
 which the bookseller shall have orders to prefix 
 them to the next edition, and the claimant shall 
 from henceforward be acknowledged the undis- 
 puted author. 
 
&4 THE BOOKSELLERS DEDICATION, 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 JOHN LORD SOMMERS. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 ALTHOUGH the author has written a large 
 dedication, yet that being addressed to a prince, 
 whom I am never likely to have the honour of 
 being known to ; a person, besides, as far as I 
 can observe, not at all regarded, or thought on 
 by any of our present writers ; and, being wholly 
 tree from that slavery, which booksellers usually 
 lie under, to the caprices of authors : I think it a 
 wise piece of presumption to inscribe these pa- 
 pers to your Lordship, and to implore your Lord- 
 ship's protection of them. God, and your Lord- 
 ship, know their faults, and their merits ; for as 
 to my own particular, I am altogether a stranger 
 to the matter ; and though every body else should 
 . be equally ignorant, I do not fear the sale of the 
 book, at all the worse, upon that score. Your 
 Lordship's name on the front, in capital letters, 
 will at any time get off one edition : Neither 
 would I desire any other help, to grow an alder- 
 man, than a patent for the sole privilege of dedi- 
 cating to your Lordship. 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
! 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
 6' 
 

 
 s 
 £ 
 
THE BOOKSELLER S DEDICATION. ti 
 
 I should now, in right of a dedicator, give your 
 Lordship a list of your own virtues, and at the 
 same time, be very unwilling to offend your mo- 
 desty ; but, chiefly, I should celebrate your libe- 
 rality towards men of great parts and small for- 
 tunes, and give you broad hints that I mean my- 
 self. And I was just going on in the usual me- 
 thod, to peruse a hundred or two of dedications, 
 and transcribe an abstract, to be applied to your 
 Lordship; but, I was diverted by a certain acci- 
 dent. For, upon the covers of these papers, I 
 casually observed, written in large letters, the 
 two following words, DETUR DIGNISSIMO; 
 which, for ought I knew, might contain some 
 important meaning. But it unluckily fell out, 
 that none of the authors I employ understood 
 Latin ; (though I have them often in pay, to 
 translate out of that language) I was therefore, 
 compelled to have recourse to the curate of our 
 parish, who Englished it thus, let it be given to 
 the zoorthiest. And his comment was, that the 
 author meant, his work should be dedicated to 
 the sublimest genius of the age, for wit, learning, 
 judgment, eloquence, and wisdom. I called at a 
 poet's chamber, (who works for my shop) in an 
 alley hard by, shewed him the translation, and 
 desired his opinion, who it was that the author 
 could mean : he told me, after some considera- 
 tion, that vanity was a thing he abhored ; but 
 
 c 
 

 26 THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION. 
 
 by the description, he thought himself to be the 
 person aimed at ; and, at the same time, he very 
 kindly offered his own assistance gratis, towards 
 penning a dedication to himself. [ desired him, 
 however, to give a second guess ; why then, said 
 he, it must be I, or my Lord Sommers. From 
 thence I went to several other wits of my acquaint* 
 ance, with no small hazard and weariness to my 
 person, from a prodigious number of dark, wind- 
 ing stairs; but found them all in the same story, 
 both of your Lordship and themselves. Now, 
 your Lordship is to understand, that this pro- 
 ceeding ^was not of my own invention ; for, I 
 have somewhere heard, it is a maxim, that those, 
 to whom every body allows the second place, 
 have an undoubted title to the first. 
 
 This infallibly convinced me, that your Lord- 
 ship was the person intended by the author. 
 But, being very unacquainted in the style and 
 form of dedications, I employed those wits afore- 
 said, to furnish me with hints and materials to- 
 wards a panegyrick upon your Lordship's virtues; 
 
 In two days, they brought me ten sheets of 
 ,paper filled up on every side. They swore to me, 
 that they had ransacked whatever could be found 
 in the characters of Socrates, Aristides, Epami- 
 nondas, Cato, Tully, Atticus, and other hard 
 names, which I cannot now recollect. However, 
 I have reason to believe, they imposed upon my 
 
THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION. 27 
 
 ignorance, because, when I came to read over 
 their collections, there was not a syllable there, 
 but what I and every body else knew as well as 
 themselves. Therefore, I grievously suspect a 
 cheat; and, that these authors of mine, stole 
 and transcribed every word, from the universal 
 report of mankind. So that I look upon myself, 
 as fifty shillings out of pocket, to no manner of 
 purpose. 
 
 If by altering the title, I could make the same 
 materials serve for another dedication, (as my 
 betters have done) it w r ould help to make up my 
 loss ; but I have made several persons dip here 
 and there in those papers, and before they read 
 three lines, they have all assured me, plainly, 
 that they cannot possibly be applied to any per- 
 son besides your Lordship. 
 
 I expected indeed to have heard of your Lord- 
 ship's bravery, at the head of an army ; of your 
 undaunted courage in mounting a breach, or 
 scaling a wall ; or, to have had your pedigree 
 traced in a lineal descent from the house of Aus- 
 tria ; or, your wonderful talent at dress and danc- 
 ing; or your profound knowledge in algebra, 
 methaphysicks and the Oriental tongues. But to 
 ply the world with an old beaten story of your 
 wit, and eloquence, and learning, and w r isdom, 
 and justice, and politeness, and candor and even- 
 ness of temper in all scenes of life ; of that great 
 c2 
 
28 the bookseller's dedication. 
 
 discernment in discovering, and readiness in fa- 
 vouring deserving men; with forty other com- 
 mon-topics: I confess I have neither conscience, 
 nor countenance to do it. Because, there is no 
 virtue, either of a public or private life, which 
 some circumstances of your own, have not often 
 produced upon the stage of the world ; and those 
 few, which for want of occasions to exert them, 
 might otherwise have passed unseen or unobserv- 
 ed by your friends, your enemies* have at length 
 brought to light. 
 
 It is true, I should be very loth, the bright ex- 
 ample of your Lordship's virtues should be lost 
 to after-ages, both for their sake and your own ; 
 but chiefly, because they will be so very neces- 
 sary to adorn the history of a late reign ;f and that 
 is another reason, why I would forbear to make 
 a recital of them here; because, I have been 
 told by wise men, that as dedications have run 
 for some years past, a good historian will not 
 be apt to have recourse thither, in search of cha- 
 racters. 
 
 *Jn i701, Lord Sommers was impeached by the Com- 
 mons,, who, either finding their proofs defective, or for 
 other reasons, delayed coming to trial ; and the Lords 
 thereupon proceeded to the trial without them, and acquit- 
 ed him. 'Hawks. 
 
 f K. William's; whose memory he defended in the 
 House of Lords, against some invidious reflections of the 
 Earl of Nottingham. Hawks, 
 
THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION. 2.Q 
 
 There is one point, wherein I think we dedica- 
 tors would do well to change our measures ; I 
 mean, instead of running on so far, upon the 
 praise of our patrons' liberality, to spend a word 
 or two in admiring their patience. I can put no 
 greater compliment on your Lordship's, than 
 by giving you so ample an occasion to exercise 
 it at present. Though perhaps, I shall not be apt 
 to reckon much merit to your Lordship upon 
 that score, who having been formerly used to tedi- 
 ous harangues,* sometimes to as little purpose, 
 will be the readier to pardon this; especially, 
 when it is offered by one, who is with all respect 
 and veneration, 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's most obedient, 
 
 And most faithful servant, 
 
 THE BOOKSELLER, 
 
 * Sir John Sommers was Attorney General; then made 
 Kord Keeper of the Seals in 1692, and Lord High Chancel T 
 lor and Baron of Evesham, in April 1697. Hawks* 
 
 B 3 
 
30 tfHE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 
 
 THE 
 
 BOOKSELLER TO THE READER 
 
 IT is now six years* since these papers came 
 first to my hand, which seems to have been about 
 a twelvemonth after they were written. For, the 
 author tells us in, his preface to the first treatise, 
 that he had calculated it for the year 1697, and 
 in several passages of that discourse, as well as 
 the second, it appears, they were written about 
 that time. 
 
 As to the author, I can give no manner of satis- 
 faction; however, I am credibly informed that this 
 publication is without his knowledge ; for he con* 
 eludes the copy is lost, having lent it to a person, 
 since dead, and being never in possession of it 
 after. So that, whether the work received his 
 last hand, or, whether he intended to fill up the 
 defective places; is like to remain a secret. 
 
 If I should go about to tell the reader, by what 
 accident I became master of these papers, it 
 would, in this unbelieving age, pass for little 
 
 * The Tale of a Tub was first published in 1704. Hawks, 
 
THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 31 
 
 more than the cant, or jargon of the trade. I 
 therefore, gladly spare both him and myself so 
 unnecessary a trouble. There yet remains a 
 difficultquestion, why I published them no sooner. 
 I forebore upon two accounts ; first, because I 
 thought I had better work upon my hands; and 
 secondly, because, I was not without some hope 
 oif hearing from the author, and receiving his 
 directions. But, I have been lately alarmed 
 with intelligence of a surreptitious copy, which a 
 certain great wit had new polished and refined, 
 or, as our present writers express themselves, 
 fitted to the humour of the age ; as they have 
 already done, with great felicity, to Don Quixote, 
 Boccalini, la Bruyere, and other authors. How- 
 ever, I thought it fairer dealing, to offer the whole 
 work in its naturals. If any gentleman will 
 please to, furnish me with a key, in order to ex- 
 plain the more difficult parts, I shall very grate- 
 fully acknowledge the favour, and print it by 
 itself. 
 
 c4 
 
3£ THE DEDICATION TO 
 
 THE 
 
 EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 PRINCE POSTERITY. 
 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I Here present your Highness with the fruits 
 ef a very few leisure hours, stolen from the 
 short intervals of a world of business, and of an 
 employment quite alien from such amusements as 
 this: the poor production of that refuse of time 
 which has lain heavy upon my hands, during a 
 long prorogation of Parliament, a great dearth 
 
 The citation out of Irenae in the title-page to the Tale of 
 a Tub, $c. which seems to be all gibberish, is a form of initia- 
 tion used antiently by the Marcosian heretics. W. Wotton. 
 
 It is the usual style of decried writers, to appeal to Pos- 
 terity ; who is here represented as a prince in his non-age, 
 and Time as his governor; and the author begins in away 
 very frequent with him, by personating other writers, who 
 sometimes offer such reasons and excuses for publishing 
 their works, as they ought chiefly to conceal, and be asham- 
 ed of. 
 
PRINCE POSTERITY. 33 
 
 of foreign news, and a tedious fit of rain}' wea- 
 ther: for which, and other reasons, it cannot 
 chuse extremely to deserve such a patronage as 
 that of your Highness, whose numberless virtues 
 in so few years, make the world look upon you 
 as the future exa n pie to all princes. For altho' 
 your Highness is hardly got clear of infancy, 
 yet has the universal learned world already resolv- 
 ed upon appealing to your future dictates with 
 the lowest and most resigned submission; fate 
 having decreed you sole arbiter of the pro- 
 ductions of human wit, in this polite and 
 most accomplished age. Methinks, the number 
 of appellants were enough to shock and startle 
 any judge of a genius less unlimited than yours. 
 But in order to prevent such glorious trials, the 
 person, it seems, to whose care the education of 
 your Highness is committed, has resolved (lam 
 told) to keep } r ou in almost an universal ignorance 
 ©f our studies, which it is your inherent birth- 
 right to inspect. 
 
 It is amazing to me, that this person should 
 have assurance in the face of the sun, to go 
 about persuading your Highness, that our age is 
 almost wholly illiterate, and has hardly produced 
 one writer upon any subject. I know very well, 
 that when your Highness shall come to riper years; 
 and have gone through the learning of antiquity, 
 you will be too curious to neglectinquiring int.Q 
 C 5 
 
54 THE DEDICATION TO 
 
 the authors of the very age before you. And to 
 think that this Insolent, in the account he is pre- 
 paring for your view, designs to reduce them to 
 a number so insignificant as I am ashamed to 
 mention; it moves my zeal and my spleen for 
 the honour and interest of our vast flourishing 
 body, as well as of myself, for whom I know by 
 long experience, he has professed, and still conti- 
 nues a peculiar malice. 
 
 It is not unlikely, that when your Highness 
 will one day peruse what I am now writing, you 
 maybe ready to expostulate with your governor 
 upon the credit of what I here affirm, and com- 
 mandhim to shew you some of our productions. 
 To which he will answer, (for I am well informed 
 of his designs) by asking your Highness where 
 they are? and what is become of them? and 
 pretend it a demonstration that there never 
 were any, because they are not then to be found. 
 Not to be found! Who has mislaid them? Are 
 they sunk in the abyss of things ? It is certain, 
 that in their own nature they were light enough 
 to swim upon the surface for all eternity. There- 
 fore the fault is in him, who tied weights so 
 heavy to their heels, as to depress them to the 
 center. Is their very essence destroyed? who 
 has annihilated them ? were they drowned by 
 purges, or martyred by pipes ? who administered 
 them to the posteriors of - ■ ■" ? But that it 
 
PRINCE POSTERITY. 35 
 
 -■ " --> ■"■ ■ * " • ' " ....,.,. , — ,. 
 
 may no longer be a doubt with your High- 
 ness, who is to be the author of this universal 
 ruin; I beseech you to observe that large and 
 terrible scythe, which your governor affects to 
 bear continually about him. Be pleased to re- 
 mark the lengthi and strength, the sharpness and 
 hardness of his nails and teeth; consider his 
 baneful abominable breath, enemy to life and 
 matter, infectious and corrupting ; and then re- 
 flect whether it be possible for any mortal ink or 
 paper of this generation to make a suitable re- 
 sistance. Oh ! that your Highness would one 
 day resolve to disarm this usurping maitre da 
 palais* of his furious engines, and bring your 
 empire hors de page.f 
 
 It were endless to recount the several methods 
 of tyranny and destruction, which your gover- 
 nor is pleased to practise on this occasion. 
 His inveterate malice is such to the writings of 
 our age, that of several thousands produced 
 yearly from this renowned city, before the next 
 revolution of the sun, there is not one to be 
 
 ♦Comptroller. The kingdom of France bad a race of 
 kings, which they call les rays faineans, [from their doing 
 nothing,] who lived lazily in their apartments, while the 
 kingdom was administered by the mayor depalais; till 
 Charles Martel, the last mayor, put his master to death, 
 andtook the kingdom into his own hand. Hatcks. 
 
 f Out of guardianship. 
 
 € 6 
 
36 THE DEDICATION TO 
 
 heard of: Unhappy infants, many of them barba- 
 rously destroyed, before they have so much, as- 
 learned their mother tongue to beg for pity. 
 Some he stifles in their cradles, others he frights 
 into convulsions, whereof they suddenly die; 
 Some he flays alive, others he tears limb from 
 limb. Great numbers are offered to Moloch, 
 and the rest, tainted by his breath, die of a lan- 
 guishing consumption. 
 
 But the concern I have most at heart, is for 
 our corporation of poets, from whom I am pre- 
 paring a petition to your Highness, to be sub- 
 scribed with the names of one hundred and thirty- 
 six of the first rate, but whose immortal produc- 
 tions are never likely to reach your eyes, though 
 each of them is now humble and an earnest ap- 
 pellant for the laurel, and has large comely vo- 
 lumes to shew for a support to his pretensions. 
 The never dying works of these illustrious per- 
 sons, your governor, Sir, has devoted to unavoid- 
 able death ; and your Highness is to be made 
 believe, that our age has never arrived at the 
 honour to produce one single poet. 
 
 We confess immortality to be a great and 
 powerful goddess: but in vain we offer up to 
 her our devotions and our sacrifices, if your 
 Highness's governor, who has usurped the priest- 
 hood, must, by an unparalleled ambition and 
 avarice, wholly intercept and devour them. 
 

 PRINCE POSTERITY. 37 
 
 To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned, 
 and devoid of writers in any kind, seems to be an 
 assertion so bold, and so false, that I have been 
 some time thinking, the contrary may almost be 
 proved by uncontroulable demonstration. It is 
 true indeed, that although their numbers be vast, 
 and their productions numerous in proportion ; 
 yet are they hurried so hastily off the scene that 
 they escape our memory, and elude our sight. 
 When I first thought of this address, I had pre- 
 pared acopious list of titles to present your High- 
 ness, as an undisputed argument for what I af- 
 firm. The originals were posted fresh upon all 
 gates and corners of streets ; but, returning in a 
 very few hours to take a review, they were all 
 torn down, and fresh ones in their places. I 
 enquired after them among readers and book- 
 sellers ; but I enquired in vain ; the memorial of 
 them was lost among men, their place was no more to 
 be found : and I was laughed to scorn for a clown 
 and a pedant, without all taste and refinement, 
 little versed m the course of present affairs, and 
 that knew nothing of what had passed in the best - 
 companies of court and town. So that I can on- 
 ly avow in general to your Highness, that w£ do 
 abound in learning and wit; but to fix upon par- 
 ticulars, is a task too slippery for my slender abi- 
 lities. If I should venture in a windy day to 
 aflirm to your Highness, that there is a large 
 
THE DEDICATION TO 
 
 cloud near the horizon, in the form of a bear ; 
 another in the zenith, with the head of an ass ; a 
 third to the westward, with claws like a dragon; 
 and your Highness should in a few minutes think 
 fit to examine the truth ; it is certain, they would 
 all be changed in figure and position ; new ones 
 would arise ; and all we could agree upon, would 
 be, that clouds there were, but that I was grossly 
 mistaken in the zoography and topography of 
 them. 
 
 But your governor, perhaps, may still insist 
 and put the question. What is then become of 
 those immense bales of paper, which must needs 
 have been employed in such numbers of books ? 
 Can these also be wholly annihilate, and so of a 
 sudden as I pretend? What shall I say in return 
 of so invidious an objection ? it ill befits the dis- 
 tance between your Highness and me, to send 
 you for ocular conviction to a iakes, or an oven ; 
 to the windows of a bawdy-house, or to a sordid 
 lanthorn. Books, like men their authojs, have no 
 more than one way of coming into the world, 
 but there are ten thousand to go out of it> and re- 
 turn no more. 
 
 I profess to your Highness,, in the integrity of 
 my heart, that what I am going to say is literally 
 true this minute I am writing. What revolu- 
 tions may happen before it shall be ready for 
 your perusal, I can by no means warrant. How- 
 
PRINCE POSTERITY. 39 
 
 ever, I beg you to accept it as a specimen of our 
 learning, our politeness, and our wit. I do there- 
 fore affirm, upon the word of a sincere man, that 
 there is now actually in being, a certain poet called 
 John Dryden, whose translation of Virgil was 
 lately printed in a large folio, well bound, and if 
 diligent search were made, for ought I know, is 
 yet to be seen. There is another called Nahum 
 Tate, who is ready to make oath that he has caus- 
 ed many reams of verse to be published, whereof 
 both himself and his bookseller (if lawfully re- 
 quired) can still produce authentic copies, and 
 therefore wonders why the world is pleased to 
 make such a secret of it. There is a third, known 
 by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vast 
 comprehension, and universal genius, and most 
 profound learning. There are also one Mr. Ry- 
 mer, and one Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. 
 There is a person styled Dr. B — tl — y, who has 
 written near a thousand pages of immense eru- 
 dition, giving a full and true account of a certain 
 squabble of wonderful importance between him- 
 self and a bookseller* He is a writer of infinite 
 wit and humour; no man rallies with abetter 
 
 * Bentley, in his controversy with Lord Orrery, upon the 
 genuineness of Phalaris's epistles, has given, in a preface, 
 a long account of his dialogues with a bookseller, about the 
 loan and restitution of a MS. Hazcks. 
 
40 THE DEDICATION TO 
 
 grace, and in more sprightly turns. Farther I 
 avow to your Highness, that with these eyes I 
 have beheld the person of William W — tt — n, 
 B. D. who has written a good sizeable volume 
 against a friend of your governor* (from whom, 
 alas! he must therefore look for little favour) in 
 a most gentlemanly stile, adorned with the utmost 
 politeness and civility; replete with discoveries, 
 equally valuable for their novelty and use ; and 
 embellished with traits of wit so poignant and 
 so apposite, that he is a worthy yokemate to his 
 fore-mentioned friend. 
 
 Why should I go upon farther particulars, 
 which' might fill a volume with the just eulogies 
 of my contemporary brethren? I shall bequeath 
 this piece of justice to a larger work ; wherein I 
 intend to write a character of the present set of 
 wits in our nation. Their persons I shall describe 
 particularly, and at length ; their genius and un- 
 derstanding in miniature. 
 
 In the mean time, I do here make bold to pre- 
 sent your Highness with a faithful abstract, drawn- 
 from the Universal body of all arts and sciences, 
 intended wholly for your service and instruction. 
 Nor do I doubt in the least, but your Highness 
 will peruse it as carefully, and make as conside- 
 rable improvements,, as other young princes have 
 
 | Sir William Temple 
 
 
PRINCE POSTERITY. 41 
 
 already done, by the many volumes of late years 
 written for a help to their studies.* 
 
 That your Highness may advance in wisdom 
 and virtue, as well as years, and at last out-shine 
 all vourrjyal ancestors, shall be the daily prayex 
 •f, 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Your Highness's 
 
 December, 
 1697. 
 
 Most devoted, &e. 
 
 * There were innumerable books printed for the use 0/ 
 the Dauphin of France. Hawks. 
 
42 THE PREFACE. 
 
 1*Z 
 
 PREFACE- 
 
 THE wits of the present age being so very 
 numerous and penetrating, it seems the gran- 
 dees of church and state begin to fall under 
 horrible apprehensions, lest these gentlemen, 
 during the intervals of a long peace, should find 
 leisure to pick holes in the weak sides of religion 
 and government. To prevent which, there has 
 been much thought employed of late, upon cer- 
 tain projects for taking off' the force and edge of 
 those formidable inquirers, from canvassing and 
 reasoning upon such delicate points. They have 
 at length fixed upon one, which will require 
 some time as well as cost to perfect. Mean while, 
 the danger hourly increasing, by new levies of 
 wits, all appointed (as there is reason to fear) 
 with pen, ink, and paper, which may, at an 
 hour's warping, be drawn out into pamphlets, 
 and other offensive weapons, ready for immediate 
 execution; it was judged of absolute necessity 
 
. 
 
 THE PREFACE. 43 
 
 that some present expedient be thought on, till 
 the main design can be brought to maturity. To 
 this end, at a grand committee, some days ago, 
 this important discovery was made by a certain 
 curious and refined observer, That seamen have 
 a custom, when they meet a whale, to fling him 
 out an empty tub, by way of amusement, to di- 
 vert him from laying violent hands upon the ship. 
 This parable was immediately my thologized. The 
 whale was interpreted to be Hobbes's Leviathan ; 
 which tosses and plays with all schemes of religion 
 and government, whereof a great many are hol- 
 low, and dry, and empty, and noisy, and wooden, 
 and given to rotation. This is the Leviathan, 
 from whence the terrible wits of our age are said 
 to borrow their we v apons. The ship in danger, 
 is easily understood to be its old antitype, the 
 commonwealth. But how to analyse the tub, was 
 a matter of difficulty ; when, after long enquiry 
 and debate, the literal meaning was preserved: 
 And it was decreed, that, in order to prevent 
 these Leviathans from tossing and sporting with 
 the commonwealth, which of itself is too apt to 
 fluctuate, they should be diverted from that game 
 by a Tale of a Tub. And my genius being con- 
 ceived to lie not unhappily that way, i had the 
 honour done me to be engaged in the perfor- 
 mance. 
 This is the sole design in publishing the fol- 
 
44 THE PREFACE. 
 
 lowing treatise; which, I hope, will serve for an 
 interim of some months to employ those unquiet 
 spirits, till the perfecting of that great work : 
 into the secret of which, it is reasonable the 
 courteous reader should have some little light. 
 
 It is intended, that a large academy be erected, 
 capable of containing nine thousand seven hun- 
 dred forty and three persons; which, by modest 
 computation, is reckoned to be pretty near the 
 current number of wits in this island. These 
 are to be disposed into the several schools of thi& 
 academy, and there pursue those studies to which 
 their genius most inclines them. The undertaker 
 himself will publish his proposals with all con- 
 venient speed; to which I shall refer the curiou* 
 reader for a more particular 'account, mention- 
 ing at present only a few of the principal schools. 
 There is, first, a large pcederastic school, w T ith 
 French and Italian masters: There is, also, the 
 spelling school, a very spacious buildings the school 
 of looking glasses-, the school of szoearing; the 
 school of critics; the school of salivation ; the 
 school of hobby-horses; the school of poetry; the 
 school of tops*; the school of spleen; the school 
 of gaming; and many others too tedious to re- 
 
 * This I think the author should have omitted, it being 
 of the very same nature with the school of hobby-horses, if 
 one may venture to censure one, who is so severe 1 a census 
 rer of others^ perhaps with top little distinction. 
 
THE fcRE'FACE*. 45 
 
 count. No person to be admitted member into 
 any of these schools, without an attestation un- 
 der two sufficient persons hands, certifying him 
 to be a wit. 
 
 But to return; I am sufficiently instructed in 
 the principal duty of a preface, if my genius 
 were capable of arriving at it. Thrice have I 
 forced my imagination to make the tour of my 
 invention, and thrice it has returned empty; the 
 latter having been wholly drained by the follow- 
 ing treatise. Not so my more successful brethren 
 the moderns, who will by no means let slip a pre- 
 face or dedication without some notable distin- 
 guishing stroke to surprise the reader at the en- 
 try, and kindle a wonderful expectation of what 
 is to ensue. Such was that of a most ingenious 
 poet, who, soliciting his brain for something new, 
 compared himself to the hangman, and his pa- 
 tron to the patient. This was insigne, recens, in^ 
 dictum ore alio*. When I went through that ne- 
 cessary and noble course of study f, I had the 
 happiness to observe many such egregious touch- 
 es ; which I shall not injure the authors by trans- 
 planting; because I have remarked, that nothing 
 h so very tender as a modern piece of wit, and 
 
 * Hor. Something extraordinary, new, and never hit 
 wpon before* 
 
 t. Reading prefaces, &«. 
 
46 THE PREFACE. 
 
 which is very apt to puffer so much iu the car- 
 riage. Some things are extremely witty to-day, 
 or fasting, or in this place, or at eight a clock, or 
 over a bottle, or spoke by Mr What d'ycalVm, or 
 in a summer's morning; any of the which, by the 
 smallest transposal or misapplication, is utterly 
 annihilate. Thus, Wit has its walks and pur- 
 lieus, out of which it may not stray the breadth 
 of an hair, upon peril of being lost. The mo- 
 derns have artfully fixed this mercury, and re- 
 duced it to the circumstances of time, place, and 
 person. Such a jest there is, that will not pass 
 out of Co vent-garden ; and such a one, that is 
 no where intelligible but at Hyde-park corner. 
 Now, though it sometimes tenderly affects me, 
 to consider, that all the towardly passages I shall 
 deliver in the following treatise will grow quite 
 out of date and relish with the first shifting of 
 the present scene; yet I must needs subscribe to 
 the justice of this proceeding; because I cannot 
 imagine why we should be at expence to fur- 
 nish wit for succeeding ages, when the former 
 have made no sort of provision for ours; wherein 
 I speak the sentiment of the very newest, and con- 
 sequently the most orthodox refiners, as well as 
 my own. However, being extremely solicitous, 
 that every accomplished person, who has got in- 
 to the taste of wit calculated for this present 
 month of August 1697, should descend to the 
 
THE PREFACE. 47 
 
 very bottom of all the sublime throughout this 
 treatise; I hold fit to lay down this general 
 maxim; Whatever reader desires to have a tho- 
 rough comprehension of an author's thoughts, 
 cannot take a better method, than by putting 
 himself into the circumstances and postures of 
 life, that the writer was in upon every important 
 passage, as it flowed from his pen; for this will 
 introduce a parity and strict correspondence of 
 ideas between the reader and the author. Now, 
 to assist the diligent reader in so delicate an affair, 
 as far as brevity will permit, I have recollected, 
 that the shrewdest pieces of this treatise were 
 conceived in bed, in a garret. At other times, 
 for a reason best known to myself, I thought fit 
 to sharpen my invention with hunger; and, in 
 general, the whole work was begun, continued, 
 and ended, under along course of physic, and a 
 great want of money. Now I do affirm, it will 
 be absolutely impossible for the candid peruser to 
 go along with me in a great many bright passa- 
 ges, unless, upon the several difficulties emer- 
 gent, he will please to capacitate and prepare 
 himself by these directions. And this I lay 
 down as my principal postulatum. 
 
 Because I have professed to be a most devoted 
 servant of all modern forms, I apprehend some 
 curious wit may object against me, for proceed- 
 ing thus far in a preface, without declaiming ac- 
 
48 
 
 THE PREFACE. 
 
 cording to the custom, against the multitude of 
 writers, whereof the whole multitude of writers 
 most reasonably complain. I am just come from 
 perusing some hundreds of prefaces, wherein the 
 authors do at the very beginning address the 
 gentle reader concerning this enormous grie- 
 vance. Of these I have preserved a few exam- 
 ples, and shall set them down as near as my me* 
 mory has been able to retain them. 
 
 One begins thus: 
 
 For a man to set up for a writer, when the pres% 
 $warms with, &c. 
 
 Another: 
 
 The tax upon paper does not lessen the number of 
 scribblers, who daily pester, &c. 
 
 Another : 
 
 When every little would-be-wit takes pen in hand, 
 f tis in vain to enter the lists, &c. 
 
 Another: 
 
 To observe what trash the press swarms with, &c. 
 
 Another: 
 
 Sir, It is merely in obedience to your commands, 
 that I venture into the public ;for who, upon a less 
 consideration, would be of a party with such a rab- 
 ble of scribblers ? &c. 
 
 Now, I have two words in my own defence a- 
 gainst this objection. First, I am far from grant- 
 ing the number of writers a nuisance to our na- 
 tion having strenuously maintained the contrary 
 
 ! 
 
tHE PREFACE. 49 
 
 in several parts of the following discourse. Se- 
 condly, I do not well understand the justice of 
 this proceeding; because I observe many of these 
 polite prefaces to be not only from the same hand, 
 but from those who are most voluminous in their 
 several productions. Upon which I shall tell the 
 reader a short tale. 
 
 A mountebank, in Leicester-fields, had drawn 
 a huge assembly about him. Among the rest, a 
 fat unwieldy fellow half stifled in the press, would 
 be every fit crying out, Lord ! what a fiithy 
 croud is here? Pray, good people, give way a 
 little. Bless me! what a devil has raked this rab- 
 ble together ? Z ds, what squeezing is this! 
 
 Honest friend, remove your elbow. At last, a 
 zveaver, that stood next him, could hold no lon- 
 ger: A plague confound you (said he) for an 
 overgrown sloven; and who, in the devil's name, 
 I wonder, helps to make up the croud half so 
 much as yourself? Don't you consider, with a 
 pox, that you take up more room with that car- 
 case than any five here? Is not the place as free 
 for us as for you ? Bring your own guts to a rea- 
 sonable compass, and be d— n'd; and then I'll 
 engage we shall have room enough for us all. 
 
 There are certain common privileges of a wri- 
 ter, the benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no 
 reason to doubt; particularly, that, where I am 
 not understood, it shall be concluded, that some- 
 
50 THE PREFACE. 
 
 thing very useful and profound is couched un- 
 derneath ; and again, that whatever word or sen- 
 tence is printed in a different character, shall be 
 judged to contain something extraordinary, ei- 
 ther of wit, or sublime. 
 
 As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of 
 praising myself, upon some occasions or none; I 
 am sure it will need no excuse, if a multitude of 
 great examples be allowed sufficient authority. 
 For it is here to be noted, that praise was origi- 
 nally a pension paid by the world: But the ?no- 
 derns, finding the trouble and charge too great 
 in collecting it, have lately bought out the fee- 
 simple; since which time, the right of presentation 
 is wholly in ourselves. For this reason it is that 
 when an author makes his own elogy, he uses 
 a certain form to declare and insist upon his ti- 
 tle, which is commonly in these or the like 
 words, 1 speak without vanity: Which I think 
 plainly shews it to be a matter of right and justice. 
 Now, I do here once for all declare, that in every 
 encounter of this nature, through the following 
 treatise, the form aforesaid is implied; which I 
 mention, to save the trouble of repeating it on so 
 many occasions. 
 
 Itis a great ease to my conscience, that lhave 
 written so elaborate and useful a discourse, with- 
 out one grain of satire intermixed; which is the 
 sole point wherein I have taken leave to dissent 
 
THE PREFACE. 51 
 
 from the famous originals of our age and coun- 
 try. I have observed some satirists, to use the 
 public much at the rate that pedants do a naugh- 
 ty boy ready horsed for discipline : First, expos- 
 tulate the case, then plead the necessity of the 
 rod, from great provocations, and conclude every 
 period with a lash. Now, if I know any thing 
 of mankind, these gentlemen might very well 
 spare their reproof and correction: For there is 
 not, through all nature, another so callous and 
 insensible a member as the world's posteriors, whe- 
 ther you apply to it the toe or the birch. Besides, 
 most of our late satirists seem to lie under a sort 
 of mistake, that because nettles have the preroga- 
 tive to sting, therefore all other weeds must do so 
 too. I make not this comparison out of the least 
 design to detract from these worthy writers: For 
 it is well known among mythologists, that weeds 
 have the pre-eminence over all other vegetables ; 
 and therefore the first monarch of this island, 
 whose taste and judgement were so acute and re- 
 fined, did very wisely root the roses from the 
 collar of the order, and plant the thistles in their 
 stead, as the nobler flower of the two. For 
 which reason it is conjectured by profounder an- 
 tiquaries, that the satirical itch, so prevalent in 
 this part of our island, was first brought among 
 us from beyond the Tweed. Here may it long 
 
 flourish and abound. May it survive, and neglect 
 d 2 
 
52 THE PREFACE. 
 
 the scorn of the world, with as much ease and 
 contempt as the world is insensible to the laches 
 of it. May their own dulness, or that of their 
 party, be no discouragement for the authors to 
 proceed; but let them remember, it is with wits 
 as with razors, which are never so apt to cut 
 those they are employed on, as when they have 
 lost their edge. Besides, those whose teeth are 
 too rotten to bite, are best of all others qualified 
 to revenue that defect with their breath. 
 
 I am not, like other men, to envy or underva- 
 lue the talents I cannot reach ; for which reason, 
 I must needs bear a true honour to this large emi- 
 nent sect of our British writers. And I hope, this 
 little panegyric will not be offensive t » thfir ears, 
 since it has the advantage of being only design- 
 ed for themselves. Indeed, Nature heisefhas 
 taken order, that fame and honour should be 
 purchased at a better pennyworth by satire, than 
 by any other productions of the brain ; the 
 world being soonest provoked to praise by lashes, 
 as men are to love. There is a problem in an 
 ancient author, why dedications, and other bun- 
 dles of flattery, run all upon stale musty topics, 
 without the smallest tincture of any thing new; 
 not only to the torment and miuseating of the 
 Christian reader, but, if not suddenly prevented, 
 to the universal spreading ofthat pestilent disease, 
 the lethargy, in this island : Whereas there is 
 
THE PREFACE. ,55 
 
 very little satire, which has not something in it 
 untouched before. The defects of the former 
 are usually imputed to the want of invention a- 
 mong those who are dealers in that kind; but, 
 I think, with a great deal of injustice; the solu- 
 tion being easy and natural. For the materials of 
 panegyric, being very few in number, have been 
 knw since exhausted. For as health is but one 
 
 o 
 
 thing, aud has been always the same ; whereas 
 diseases are by thousands, besides new and daily 
 additions: so all the virtues that have been ever 
 in mankind, are to be counted upon a few fin- 
 gers; but his follies and vices are innumerable, 
 and time adds hourly to the heap. Now, the 
 utmost a poor poet can do, is to get by heart a 
 list of the cardinal virtues, and deal them with his 
 utmost liberality to his hero or his patron. He 
 may ring the changes as far as it will go, and va- 
 ry his phrase till he has talked round: But the 
 reader quickly finds it is all pork # , with a little 
 yariety of sauce. For there is no inventing 
 terms of art beyond our ideas ; and when our 
 ideas are exhausted, terms of art must be so 
 too. 
 
 But though the matter for panegyric were as 
 fruitful as the topics of satire, yet would it not be 
 hard to find out a sufficient reason, why the lat- 
 
 * Plutarch. 
 D 3 
 
54 THE PREFACE. 
 
 ter will he always better received than the first. 
 For this being bestowed only upon one or a few 
 persons at a time,, is sure to raise envy,.and con- 
 sequently ill words, from the rest, who have no 
 share in the blessing. But satire, being levelled 
 at all, is never resented for an offence by any; 
 since every individual person makes bold to un- 
 derstand it of others, and very wisely removes his 
 particular part, of the burthen upon the shoulders 
 of the world, which are broad enough, and able 
 to bear it. To this purpose, I have sometimes 
 reflected upon the difference between Athens and 
 England, with respect to the point before us. In 
 the Attic commonwealth # , it was the privilege 
 and birthright of every citizen and poet, to rail 
 aloud, and in public; or to expose upon the stage* 
 by name, any person they pleased, though of the 
 greatest figure, whether a Creon, an Hyperbo- 
 lus, an Alcibiades, or a Demosthenes. But, on 
 the other side, the least reflecting word let fall 
 against the people in general, was immediately 
 caught up, and revenged upon the authors, how- 
 ever considerable for their quality or their merits. 
 Whereas in England it is just the reverse of all 
 this. Here, you may securely display your ut- 
 most rhetoric against mankind, in the face of the 
 world: Tell them, That all are gone astray; that 
 
 * Vid. Xenoph. 
 
THE PREFACE. 55 
 
 there is none thai doth good, no not one; that we live 
 in the very dregs of time] that knavery and atheism 
 are epidemic as the pox; that honesty isjiedwith 
 Astrcea ; with any other common places, equally 
 new and eloquent, which are furnished by the 
 splendida bilis*. And when you have done, the 
 whole audience, far from being offended, shall 
 return you thanks, as a deliverer of precious and 
 useful truths. Nay farther, it is but to venture 
 your lungs, and you may preach in Covent-Gar- 
 den against foppery and fornication, and some* 
 thing else ; against pride and dissimulation, and 
 bribery, at Whitehall: you may expose rapine 
 and injustice in the inns of court chapel ; H and in 
 a c/ty-pulpit, be as fierce as you please against 
 avarice, hypocrisy, and extortion. It is but a 
 ball bandied to and fro; and every man carries a 
 racket about him, to strike it from himself among 
 the rest of the company. But, on the other side, 
 whoever should mistake the nature of things, so far 
 as to drop but a single hint in public, how such a one 
 starved half the fleet, and half poisoned the rest; 
 how such a one, from a true principle of love and 
 honour, pays no debts but for wenches smdplay ; 
 how such a one has got a clap, and runs out of 
 his estate; how Paris, bribed byJunoand Venusf , 
 
 * Hor. Spleen. 
 
 t Juno and Venus, are money and a mistress; very 
 powerful bribes to a judge, it" scaudal. says true. I re- 
 D. 4 
 
56 THE PREFACE. 
 
 Joth to offend either party, slept out the whole 
 cause on the bench ; or, how such an orator makes 
 long speeches in the senate with much thought, 
 little sense, and to no purpose: Whoever, I say, 
 should venture to be thus particular, must expect 
 to be imprisoned for scandalum ma gnat urn ; to have 
 challenges sent him; to be sued for defamation \ 
 and to be brought before the bar of the house. 
 
 But I forgot that I am expatiating on a subject 
 wherein I have no concern, having neither a ta- 
 lent nor an inclination for satire. On the other 
 side, I am so entirely satisfied with the whole pre- 
 sent procedure of human things, that I have been 
 someyears preparing materials towards A panegy- 
 ric upon the world, to which I intended to add a se- 
 cond part, intituled, A modest defence of the pro- 
 ceedings of the rabble in all ages. Both these I had 
 thought to publish, by way of appendix to the 
 following treatise; but, finding my common- 
 place book fill much slower than I had reason to 
 expect, I have chosen to defer them to another 
 occasion. Besides, I have been unhappily pre- 
 vented in that design by a certain domestic 
 misfortune : In the particulars whereof, though 
 it would be very seasonable and much in the 
 modern way, to inform the gentle reader, and 
 
 member such reflections were cast about that time, but I 
 cannot fix the person intended here. 
 
 
THE PREFACE. 57 
 
 would also be of great assistance towards 
 extending this preface into the size now in 
 vogue, which by rule ought to be large, in 
 proportion as the subsequent volume is small; 
 yet I shall now dismiss our impatient reader from 
 any farther attendance at the porch; and, having 
 duly prepared his mind by a preliminary dis- 
 course, shall gladly introduce him to the sublime 
 mysteries that ensue. 
 
 B* 
 
A 
 
 TALE OF A TUB/ 
 
 SECT. I. 
 THE INTRODUCTION, f 
 
 WHOEVER hath an ambition to be heard 
 in a crowd, must press, and squeeze, and thrust, 
 and climb, with indefatigable pains, till he has 
 exalted himself to a certain degree of altitude 
 above them. Now, in all assemblies, though 
 you wedge them ever so close, we may observe 
 this peculiar property, that over their heads 
 
 * The Tale of a Tub has made much noise in the world. 
 It was one of Swift's earliest performances, and has never 
 been excelled in wit and spirit by his own, or any other pen. 
 The censures that have passed upon it are various. The 
 most material of which, were such as reflected upon Dr. 
 Swift, in the character of a clergyman, and a Christian. It 
 has been one of the misfortunes attending Christianity, 
 that many of her sons, from a mistaken filial piety, have 
 indulged themselves in too restrained and too melanr hoi/ 
 n6 
 
60 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 / 
 
 there is room enough ? but how to reach it, is 
 the difficult point; it being as hard to get quit 
 of number } as of hell: 
 
 evadcre ad auras, 
 Hoc opus, hie labor est *. 
 
 To this end, the philosopher's way, in all ages, 
 has been by erecting certain edifices in the air. 
 But, whatever practice and reputation these kinds 
 
 a way of thinking. Can we wonder then, if a book, compo- 
 sed with all the force of wit and humour, in derision of sa- 
 cerdotal tyranny, in ridicule of grave hypocrisy, and in con- 
 tempt of flegmatic stiffness, should be wilfully misconstru- 
 ed by some persons, and ignorantly mistaken by others, as 
 a sarcasm and reflection upon the whole Christian church? 
 Swift's ungovernable spirit of irony has sometimes carried 
 him into very unwarrantable flights of wit. In the style 
 of truth, I must look upon the Tale of a Tub, as no intended 
 insult against Christianity, but as a satire against the wild 
 errors of the church of Rome, the slow and incomplete re- 
 formation of the Lutherans, and the absurd and affected 
 aeal of the Presbyterians. Orrery. 
 
 f The Introduction abounds with wit and humour. But 
 the author never loses the least opportunity of venting his 
 keenest satire against Mr Dryden, and consequently, loads 
 with insults, the greatest, although the least prosperous, of 
 our English poets. Yet who can avoid smiling, when he 
 finds the Hind and Panther, as a complete abstract of sixteen 
 thousand schoolmen, and when Tommy Pots is supposed 
 written by the same hand, as a supplement to the former work f 
 I am willing to imagine, that Dryden, in some manner cr 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 6l 
 
 of structures have formerly possessed, or may still 
 continue in, not excepting even that of Socrates, 
 when he was suspended in a basket to help con- 
 templation ; I think, with due submission, they 
 seem to labour under two inconveniences. First, 
 That the foundations being laid too high, they 
 have been often out of sight, and ever out of 
 hearing. Secondly, That the materials, being very 
 transitory, have suffered much from inclemencies 
 of air, especially in these north-west regions. 
 
 Therefore, towards the just performance of 
 this great work, there remain but three methods 
 that I can think on; whereof the wisdom of our 
 ancestors being highly sensible, has, to encourage 
 all aspiring adventurers, thought fit to erect three 
 wooden machines for the use of those orators, 
 
 other, had offended Swift, who, otherwise, I hope, would 
 have been more indulgent to the errors of a man oppressed 
 by poverty, driven on by party, and bewildered by religion % 
 But although our satirical author, now and then, may 
 have indulged himself in some personal animosities, or 
 may have taken freedoms not so perfectly consistent with 
 that solemn decency which is required from a clergyman; 
 yet, throughout the whole piece, there is a vein of ridicule 
 and good humour, that laughs pedantry and affectation in- 
 to the lowest degree of contempt, and exposes the charac- 
 ter of Peter and Jack in such a manner, as never will be 
 forgiven, and never can be an answered. Orrery. 
 
 * But to return, and view the cheerful skies; 
 In this the task and mighty labour lies. 
 
62 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 who desire to talk much without interruption. 
 These are, the pulpit, the ladder, and the stage 
 itinerant. For, as to the bar, though it be com- 
 pounded of the same matter, and designed for 
 the same use, it cannot however be well allowed 
 the honour of the fourth, by reason of its level 
 or inferior situation, exposing it to the perpetual 
 interruption from collaterals. Neither can the 
 bench itself, though raised to a proper eminency, 
 putin abetter claim, whatever its advocates insist 
 on. For, if they please to look into the original 
 design of its erection, and the circumstances or 
 adjuncts subservient to that design, they willsoon 
 acknowledge the present practice exactly corres- 
 pondent to the primitive institution ; and both to 
 answer the etymology of the name, which in the 
 Phoenician tongue is a word of great signification, 
 importing, if literally interpreted, theplace of 
 sleep ; but in common acceptation, a seat well bol- 
 stered and cushioned, for the repose of old and gouty 
 limbs: Senes ut in otia tuta recedant: Fortune 
 being indebted to them this part of retaliation, 
 that, as formerly they have long talked, whilst 
 others slept, so now they may sleep as long, whilst 
 others talk. 
 
 But if no other argument could occur, to ex~ 
 elude the bench and the bar from the list ofora- 
 torial machines, it were sufficient, that the ad- 
 mission of them would overthrow a number 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 63 
 
 which I was resolved to establish, whatever argu- 
 ment it might cost me; in imitation of that pru- 
 dent method observed by many other philosophers 
 and great clerks, whose chief art in division has 
 been to grow fond of some proper mystical num- 
 ber, which their imaginations have rendered sa- 
 cred, to a degree, that they force common rea- 
 son to find room for it in every part of nature ; 
 reducing, including, and adjusting every genus 
 and species, within that compass, by coupling 
 some against their wills, and banishing others at 
 any rate. Now, among all the rest, the pro- 
 found number THREE is that which hath most 
 employed my sublimest speculations, nor ever 
 without wonderful delight. There is now in the 
 press, and will be published next term, a panegy- 
 rical essay of mine upon this number; wherein 
 I have, by most convincing proofs, not only re- 
 duced the senses and the elements under its banner, 
 but brought over several deserters from its two 
 great rivals, SEVEN and NINE. 
 
 Now, the first of these oratorial machines in 
 place, as well as in dignity, is the pulpit. Of 
 pulpits there are in this island several sorts ; but I 
 esteem only that made of timber from the sylva 
 Caledonia, which agrees very well with our cli- 
 mate. If it be upon its decay, it is the better both 
 for conveyance of sound, and for other reasons to 
 be mentioned by and by. The degree of perfection 
 
 i 
 
64 A TALE OF A TUR. 
 
 in shape and size, I tajte to consist in being ex"" 
 tremely narrow, with little ornament, and best of 
 all without a cover, (for, by ancient rule, it ought 
 to be the only uncovered vessel in every assembly r 
 where it is rightfully used;) by which means, 
 from its near resemblance to a pillory, it wilL 
 ever have a mighty influence on human ears. 
 
 Of ladders I need say nothing. It is observed 
 by foreigners themselves, to the honour of our 
 country, that we excel all nations in our prac- 
 tice and understanding of this machine. The 
 ascending orators do not only oblige their audi- 
 ence in the agreeable delivery, but the whole 
 world in the early publication of their speeches; 
 which I look upon as the choicest treasury of our 
 British eloquence, and whereof, I am informed* 
 that worthy citizen and bookseller, Mr* John 
 Dun ton, hath made a faithful and a painful coU 
 lection, which he shortly designs to publish in 
 twelve volumes in folio, illustrated with copper- 
 plates: A work highly useful and curious, and 
 altogether worthy of such a hand. 
 
 The last engine of orators isr the stage-itine- 
 rant*, erected with much sagacity, sub Joveplu- 
 vio in triviis et quadriviisf. It is the great se- 
 
 * Is the mountebank's stage, whose orators the author 
 determines either to the gallows or a. conventicle. 
 
 t In the open air, and in streets where the greatest 
 resort is* 
 
__ 
 
 THE INTRODUCTION. 63 
 
 minary of the two former, and its orators are 
 sometimes preferred to the one, and sometimes to 
 the other, in proportion to their deserving, there 
 being a strict and perpetual intercourse between 
 all three. 
 
 From this accurate deduction it is manifest* 
 that for obtaining attention in public, there is of 
 necessity required a superior position of place. 
 But although this point be generally granted, yet 
 the cause is little agreed in; and it seems to me, 
 that very few philosophers have fallen into a true, 
 natural solution of this phenomenon. Thedeepest 
 account, and the most fairly digested of any I 
 have yet met with, is this, That air being a heavy 
 body, and therefore, according to the system of 
 Epicurus*, continually descending, must needs 
 be more so, when loaden and pressed down by 
 words; which are also bodies of much weight 
 and gravity, as it is manifest from those deep im- 
 pressions they make and leave upon us; and there- 
 fore must be delivered from a due altitude, or 
 else they will neither carry a good aim, nor fall 
 down with a sufficient force. 
 
 Corpoream quoque enim vocem constare fatendum est, 
 Et sonituin, quoniam possunt impellere sensusf. 
 
 Lucr. lib. 4. 
 
 # Lucret. lib. 2. 
 
 f 'Tis certain then, that voice, that thus can wound, 
 Is all material; body every sound* 
 
6Q A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 And I am the readier to favour this conjecture, 
 from a common observation, that* in the several 
 assemblies of these orators, nature itself hath in- 
 structed the hearers to stand with their mouths 
 open, and erected parallel to the horizon, so as 
 they may be intersected by a perpendicular line 
 from the zenith to the centre of the earth. In 
 which position, if the audience be well compact, 
 every one carries home a share, and little or no- 
 thing is lost. 
 
 I confess, there is something yet more refined 
 in the contrivance and structure of our modern 
 theatres. For, first, the pit is sunk below the 
 stage, with due regard to the institution above 
 deduced; that whatever weighty matter shall be 
 delivered thence, whether it be lead or gold, may 
 fall plum into the jaws of certain critics, as £ 
 think they are called, which stand ready opened 
 to devour them. Then, the boxes are built 
 round, and raised to a level with the scene, in 
 deference to the ladies; because that large por- 
 tion of wit, laid out in raising pruriences and pro- 
 tuberances, is observed to run much upon a line, 
 and ever in a circle. The whining passions, and 
 little starved conceits, are gently wafted up, by 
 their own extreme levity, to the middle region; 
 and there fix, and are frozen by the frigid under- 
 standings of the inhabitants. Bombastry and 
 buffooary, by nature lofty and light, soar highest 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 67 
 
 of all; and would be lost in the roof, if the pru- 
 dent architect had not with much foresight con- 
 trived for them a fourth place, called the twelve- 
 penny gallery, and there planted a suitable colony, 
 w T ho greedily intercept them in their passage. 
 
 Now, this physico-logical scheme of oratorial 
 receptacles or machines, contains a great mystery ; 
 being a type, a sign, an emblem, a shadow, a 
 symbol, bearing analogy to the spacious com- 
 monwealth of writers, and to those methods by 
 which they must exalt themselves to a certain 
 eminency above the inferior world. By the pul- 
 pit are adumbrated the writings of ouv modern 
 saints in Great Britain, as they have spiritualized 
 and refined them from the dross and grossness of 
 sense and human reason. The matter, as we have 
 said, is of rotten wood ; and that upon two con- 
 siderations ; because it is the quality of rotten 
 wood to give light in the dark : And, secondly, 
 Because its cavities are full of worms; which is a 
 type with a pair ofhandles # , having a respect to 
 the two principal qualifications of the orator, 
 and the two different fates attending upon his 
 works. 
 
 * The two principal qualifications of a fanatic preacher, 
 are, his inward light, and his head full of maggots; and the 
 two different fates of his writings" are, to be burnt, or 
 worm eaten. 
 
68 A TA1E OF A TUB. 
 
 The ladder is an adequate symbol of faction, 
 and of poetry ; to both of which so noble a num- 
 ber of authors are indebted for their fame. Of 
 faction*, because * ***** Hiatus in 
 
 MS. 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 Ofpoetryl 
 
 because its orators do perorare wkh a song; and, 
 because, climbing up by slow degrees, Fate is sure 
 to turn them off before they can reach within 
 many steps of the top; and because it is a prefer- 
 ment attained by transfering of property, and a 
 confounding of meum and tuum. 
 
 Under the stage-itinerant are couched those 
 productions designed for the pleasure and delight 
 of mortal man ; such as, Sixpenny-worth of Wit, 
 Westminster Drolleries, Delightful Tales, Complete 
 Jesters, and the like ; by which the writers of and 
 for GRUB— STREET, have, in these latter ages, 
 so nobly triumphed over Time', have clipped his 
 wings, pared his nails, filed his teeth, turned back 
 his hour glass, blunted his scythe, and drawn th< 
 
 I 
 
 * Here is pretended a defect in the manuscript; and this 
 is very frequent with our author, either when he thinks he 
 cannot say any think worth reading; or when lie has no 
 mind to enter on the subject; or when it is a matter of lit- 
 tle moment; or, perhaps, to amuse his reader, whereof he 
 is frequently very fond; or, lastly, with some satirical 
 iatentian. 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 69 
 
 hobnails out of his shoes Lt is under this class I 
 have presumed to list my presenr treatise, being 
 just come from having the honour conferred up- 
 on me, to be adopted a member of that illustri- 
 ous fraternity. 
 
 Now, L am not unaware, how the productions 
 of the Grub-street brotherhood have of late years 
 fallen under many prejudices; nor how it has 
 been the perpetual employment oi two junior 
 start-up societies, to ridicule them and their au- 
 thors, as unworthy their established post in the 
 commonwealth of wit and learning. Their own 
 consciences will easily inform them whom I 
 mean. Nor has the world been so negligent a 
 looker on, as not to observe the continual efforts 
 made by the societies of Gresham*, and of 
 Will's f, to edify a name and reputation upon the 
 ruin of OURS. And this is yet a more feeling 
 grief to us, upon the regards of tenderness as 
 well as of justice, when we reflect on their pro- 
 ceedings, uot only as unjust, but as ungrateful, 
 undutiful, and unnatural. For how can it be 
 
 * Gresham college was the place where the Royal soci- 
 ety then met, from whence they removed to Crane-court 
 in. Fleet-street. 
 
 f Will's coffee-house in Covent-garlen, was formerly the 
 place where the poets usually met; which, though it be 
 yet fresh in memory, in some years may be forgotten, and 
 want this explanation. 
 
70 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 *orgot by the world, or themselves, to say no- 
 thing of our own records, which are full and 
 clear in the point, that they both are seminaries, 
 not only of our planting, but our watering too ? 
 I am informed, our two rivals have lately made 
 an offer to enter into the lists with united forces, 
 and challenge us to a comparison of books, both 
 as to weight and number. In return to which, 
 with licence from our president, I humbly offer 
 two answers. First, we say, the proposal is like 
 that which Archimedes made upon a smaller af* 
 fair*, including an impossibility in the practice; 
 for where can they find scales of capacity enough 
 for the first, or an arithmatician of capacity 
 enough for the second ? Secondly, we are ready 
 to accept the challenge ; but with this condition, 
 that a third indifferent person be assigned, to 
 whose impartial judgment it should be left to de- 
 cide, which society each book, treatise, or pam- 
 phlet, do most properly belong to. This point, 
 God knows, is very far from being fixed at pre- 
 sent ; for we are ready to produce a catalogue of 
 some thousands, which, in all common justice, 
 ought to be intitled to our fraternity, but by the 
 revolted and new-fangled writers most perfidious- 
 ly ascribed to the others. Upon all which, we 
 think it very unbecoming our prudence, that the 
 
 # Viz. About moving the earth. 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 71 
 
 determination should be remitted to the authors 
 themselves ; when our adversaries > by briguing 
 and caballing, have caused so universal a defection 
 from us, that the greatest part of our society 
 hath already deserted to them, and our nearest 
 friends begin to stand aloof, as if they were half- 
 i ashamed to own us. 
 
 This is the utmost I am authorized to say, upon 
 so ungrateful and melancholy a subject; because 
 we are extremely unwilling to inflame a controver- 
 sy, w r hose continuance may be so fatal to the inte- 
 rests of us all ; desiring much rather that things be 
 amicably composed: and we shall so far advance on 
 our side,as to be ready to receive the two prodigals 
 with open arms, whenever they shall think fit to 
 return from their husks and their harlots; w r hich, 
 I think, from the present course of their stu- 
 dies*, they most property may be said to be en- 
 gaged in; and, like an indulgemt parent, conti- 
 nue to them our affection and our blessing. 
 
 But the greatest maim given to that general 
 reception which the writings of our society have 
 formerly received, (next to the transitory state of 
 all sublunary things), hath been a superficial vein 
 among many readers of the present age, who 
 (will by no means be persuaded to inspect beyond 
 the surface and the rind of things : Whereas, 
 
 * Virtuoso experiments, and modern comedies. 
 
72 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 wisdom is a fox, who, alter long hunting, will at 
 last cost you the pains to dig out : It is a cheese, 
 which, by how much the richer, has the thicker, 
 the homelier, and the coarser coat; and where- 
 of, to a judicious palate, the maggots are the 
 best : It is a sack-posset, wherein the deeper you 
 go, you will find it the sweeter. Wisdom is a 
 hen, whose cackling we must value and consider, 
 because is is attended w 7 ith an egg. But then, 
 lastly, it is a nut, which, unless you chuse with 
 judgment, may cost you a tooth, and pay you 
 with nothing but a worm. In consequence of 
 these momentous truths, the Grubaean sages have 
 always chosen to convey their precepts and their 
 arts, shut up within the vehicles of types and 
 fables; which having been perhaps more careful 
 and curious in adorning, than was altogether ne- 
 cessary, it has fared with these vehicles, after the 
 usual fate of coaches over-finely painted and 
 gilt, that the transitory gazers have so dazzled 
 their eyes, and filled their imaginations with 
 the out-ward lustre , as neither to regard or eon* 
 eider the person or the parts of the owner within: 
 A misfortune we undergo with somewhat less 
 reluctancy, because it has been common to us 
 with Pythagoras, JEsop , Socrates , and other of 
 our predecessors. 
 
 However, that neither the world, nor ourselves, 
 may any longer suffer by such misunderstandings, 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 73 
 
 I have been prevailed on, after much importunity 
 from my friends, to travel in a complete and la- 
 borious dissertation u r \>n the prime productions 
 of our society: which, besides their beautiful ex- 
 ternals for the gratification of superficial readers, 
 have darkly and deeply couched under them the 
 most finished and refined systems of all sciences 
 and arts ; as I do not doubt to lay open by un- 
 twisting or unwinding, and either to draw up 
 by exantlation, or display by incision. 
 
 This great work was entered upon some years 
 ago, by one of our most eminent members. He 
 began with the history of Reynard the fox # ; but 
 neither lived to publish his essay, nor to proceed 
 farther in so useful an attempt ; which is very 
 much to be lamented, because the discovery he 
 made, and communicated w r ith his friends, is 
 now universally received : nor do I think any of 
 I the learned will dispute that famous treatise to be 
 a complete body of civil knowledge, and the re- 
 velation, or rather the apocalypse of all state arcana. 
 But the progress I have made is much greater, 
 having already finished my annotations upon 
 several dozens; from some of which I shall im~ 
 
 * The author seems here to be mistaken; for I have 
 seen a Latin edition of Reynard the fox, above a hundred 
 years old, which I take to be the original; for the 
 rest, it has been thought, by many people, to contain 
 some satirical design in it. 
 
 K 
 
74 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 part a few hints to the candid reader, as far as 
 will be necessary to the conclusion at which I 
 aim. 
 
 The first piece I have handled, is that of Tom 
 Thumb, whose author was a Pythagorean philo- 
 sopher. This dark treatise contains the whole 
 scheme of the metempsychosis, deducing the pro* 
 gress of the soul through all her stages. 
 
 The next is Dr. Faustus, penned by Artephius, 
 an author bonce not&, and an adeptus. He pub- 
 lished it in the nine-hundredth-eighty-fourth 
 year of his age*. This writer proceeds wholly 
 by reincrudation, or in the via humida: And the 
 marriage between Faustus and Helen does most 
 conspicuously dilucidate the fermenting of the 
 male and female dragon. 
 
 Whittington and his cat is the work of that my- 
 sterious Rabbi, Jehuba Hannasi ; containing a 
 defence of the Gemara of the Jerusalem Misnaf, 
 and its just preference to that of Babylon, con- 
 trary to the vulgar opinion. 
 
 * The chy mists say of him in their books, that he 
 prolonged his life to a thousand years, and then died 
 voluntarily. Hatches. 
 
 f The Gemara is the decision, explanation, or the in- 
 terpretation of the Jewish rabbies; and the Misna is pro- 
 perly the code or body of the Jewish civil, or common 
 law. Hazvkcs* 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 75 
 
 The Hind and Panther. This is the master 
 piece of a famous writer now living*, intended 
 foracomplete abstract of sixteen thousand school- 
 men, from Scotus to Bellarmin. 
 
 Tommy Pots. Another piece supposed by the 
 same hand, by way of supplement to the former. 
 
 The Wise MenofGoatham, cum appendice. This 
 is a treatise of immense erudition ; being the great 
 original and fountain of those arguments, bandied 
 about both in France and England, for a just de- 
 fence of the modems learning and wit, against the 
 presumption, the pride, and ignorance of the 
 ancients. This unknown author hath so ex- 
 hausted the subject, that a penetrating reader will 
 easily discover whatever hath been written since 
 upon that dispute, to be little more than repeti- 
 tion. An abstract of this treatise hath been lately 
 published, by a worthy member of our society f. 
 
 These notices may serve to give the learned 
 reader an idea, as well as a taste, of what the 
 whole work is likely to produce; wherein I have 
 now altogether circumscribed my thoughts and 
 my studies; and if I can bring it to a perfection 
 before I die, shall reckon I have well employed 
 
 * Viz. in 1698. 
 
 f This I suppose to be understood of Mr Wotton's 
 discourse of antient and modern learning, 
 
 E 2 
 
76 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the poor remains of an unfortunate life # . This 
 indeed is more than I can justly expect from a 
 quill worn to the pith in the service of the state, 
 in pro's and con's upon Popish plots, and meal- 
 tubs f, and exclusion bills, and passive obedience, 
 and addresses of lives and for tunes ; and prerogative, 
 and property, and liberty of conscience, and letters 
 to a friend : From an understanding and a con- 
 science thread-bare and ragged with perpetual 
 turning ; from a head broken in a hundred 
 places by the malignants of the opposite factions ; 
 and from a body spent with poxes ill cured, by 
 trusting to bawds and surgeons, who, as it after- 
 wards appeared' were professed enemies tome and 
 the government, and revenged their party's quar- 
 rel upon my nose and shins. Fourscore and 
 eleven pamphlets have I written under three 
 reigns, and for the service of six and thirty fac- 
 tions. But, finding the state has no farther occa- 
 sion for me and my ink, I retire willingly to draw 
 it out into speculations more becoming a philoso- 
 pher; having, to my unspeakable comfort, passed 
 a long life with a conscience void of offence. 
 
 * Here the author seems to personate L ? Estrange, Dry- 
 den, and some others, who, after having passed their lives 
 in vices, faction, and falsehood, have the impudence 
 to talk of merit, and innocence, and sufferings. 
 
 f In King Charles II/s time, there was an account 
 of a Presbyterian plot, found in a tub, which then made 
 much noise. 
 
THE INTRODUCTION. 77 
 
 But to return: [ am assured from the reader's 
 candour, that the brief specimen I have given, will 
 easily clear all the rest of our society's produc- 
 tions from an aspersion grown, as it is manifest, 
 out of envy and ignorance, That they are of little 
 farther use or value to mankind beyond the com- 
 mon entertainments of their wit and their style; 
 for these I am sure have never yet been disputed 
 by our keenest adversaries; in both which, as well 
 as the more profound and mystical part, 1 have 
 throughout this treatise closely followed the most 
 applauded originals. And to render all complete, 
 I have, with much thought and application of 
 mind, so ordered, that the chief title prefixed to 
 it, I mean, that under which I design it shall pass 
 in the common conversations of court and town, 
 is modelled exactly after the manner peculiar to 
 our society. 
 
 I confess to have been somewhat liberal in the 
 business of titles # , having observed the humour 
 of multiplying them to bear great vogue among 
 certain writers, whom I exceedingly reverence. 
 And indeed it seems not unreasonable, that books, 
 the children of the brain, should have the honour 
 to be christened with variety of names, as well 
 
 * The title page, in the original, was so torn, that 
 it was not possible to recover several titles, which the 
 author here speaks of. 
 
 E 5 
 
78 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 as other infants of quality. Our famous Dryden 
 has ventured to proceed a point farther, endea- 
 vouring to introduce also a multiplicity of god- 
 fathers*; which is an improvement of much 
 more advantage, upon a very obvious account. 
 It is a pity this admirable invention has not been 
 better cultivated, so as to grow by this time into 
 general imitation, when such an authority serves 
 it for a precedent. Nor have my endeavours 
 been wanting" to second so useful an example: 
 But it seems, there is an unhappy expence usually 
 annexed to the calling of a godfather, which was 
 clearly out of my head, as it is very reasonable to 
 believe. Where the pinch }ay > I cannot certain- 
 ly affirm; but having employed a world of 
 thoughts and pains to split my treatise into for- 
 ty sections, and having intreated forty lords of 
 my acquaintance, that they would do me the 
 honour to stand, they all made it a matter of 
 conscience, and sent me their excuses. 
 
 * See Virgil translated, &c. He dedicated the dif- 
 ferent parts of Virgil to different patrons. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 79> 
 
 ( ^ 
 
 SECT. IL 
 
 ONCE upon a time, there was a man who 
 had three sons by one wife # , and all at a birth ; 
 neither could the midwife tell certainly which 
 was the eldest. Their father died while they 
 were young; and upon his deathbed, calling the 
 lads to him, spoke thus ; 
 
 Sons, Because I have purchased no estate, nor zvas 
 born toany, I have long considered of so me good lega- 
 cies to bequeath you; and at last, with much care' 
 as well as expence have provided each of you, (here 
 
 * By these three sons, Peter, Martin, and Jack; Po- 
 pery, the Church of England, and our Protestant Dis- 
 senters, are designed. W. Wot ton. 
 
 In the character of Peter, we see the Pope, seated on 
 his pontifical throne, and adorned with his triple crown. 
 In the picture of Martin, we view Luther, and the first 
 reformers. And in the description of Jack, we behold 
 John Calvin and his disciples. The author's arrows are 
 chiefly directed against Peter and Jack. To Martin he 
 shews all the indulgence that the laws of aliegorj will 
 permit. Orrery. 
 
 E 4 
 
85 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 they are) a new coat** Now, you are to under 
 stand, that these coats have two virtues contained in 
 them. One is, that, with good wearing, they will 
 last you fresh and sound as long as you live. The 
 other is, that they will grow in the same 'proportion 
 with your bodies, lengthening and widening of them- 
 selves, so as to he always fit. Here, let me see them 
 on you before I die. So, very well ; pray, children, 
 wear them clean, and brush them often. Yqu will 
 find in my zvillf (here it is) full instructions in every 
 particular concerning the wearing andmanagement 
 of your coats ; wherein you must be very exact, to 
 avoid the penalties I have appointed for every trans- 
 gression or neglect, upon z^hichyour future fortunes 
 will entirely depend. I have also commanded in my 
 will, that you should live together, in one house, like 
 brethren and friends ; for then you will be sure 
 tu thrive, and not otherwise. 
 
 Here, the story says, this good father died and 
 the three sons went altogether to seek their for- 
 tunes. 
 
 * By his coats, which he gave his sons, the gar- 
 ment of the Israelites. W. Wotton. 
 
 An error (with submission) of the learned commentator ; 
 or by the coats are meant the doctrine and faith of Chris- 
 tianity, by the wisdom of the divine founder, fitted to all 
 times, places, and circumstances. Lambin. 
 
 t The New Testament. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 81 
 
 I shall not trouble you with recounting what 
 adventures they met with for the first seven 
 years, any farther than by taking notice, that 
 they carefully observed their father's will, and 
 kept their coats in very good order; that they 
 travelled through several countries, encountered 
 a reasonable quantity of giants, and slew certain 
 dragons. 
 
 Being now arrived at the proper age for pro- 
 ducing themselves, they came up to town, and 
 fell in love with the ladies; but especially three 
 who about that time were in chief reputation -; 
 the Duchess d'Argent, Madame de Grands 
 Titres, and the Countess d' Orgueil # . On their 
 first appearance, our three adventurers met with 
 a very bad reception ; and soon with great saga^ 
 city guessing out the reason, they quickly began 
 to improve in the good qualities of the town. 
 They writ, and rallied, and rhymed, and sung, 
 and said, and said nothing; they drank, and 
 fought, and whored, and slept, and swore, and 
 took snuff; they went to new plays on the first 
 night, haunted the chocolate-houses, beat the 
 
 * Their mistresses are, the Duchess d'xVrgent, Made- 
 moiselle de Grands Titres, and the Countess d'Orgueih 
 i. e. covetousness, ambition, and pride; which were the 
 three great vices that the antient fathers inveighed a- 
 gainst, as the first corruptions of Christianity. 
 
 W. Wotton. 
 E 5 
 
82 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 - ■" " • ■ ... -a ; 
 
 watch, lay on bulks, and got claps ; they bilked 
 hackney-coachmen, ran in debt with shopkeep- 
 ers, and lay with their wives; they killed bailiffs, 
 kicked fiddlers down stairs, eat at Locket's, loit- 
 ered at Will's ; they talked of the drawing room, 
 and never came there ; dined with lords they 
 never saw; whispered a duchess, and spoke never 
 a word ; exposed the scrawls of their laundress for 
 billetdoux of quality; came ever just from court, 
 and were never seen in it ; attended the levee sub 
 dio , got a list of peers by heart in one company, 
 and with great familiarity retailed them in ano- 
 ther. Above all, they constantly attended those 
 committees of senators, who are silent in the 
 house, and loud in the coffee-house ; where they 
 nightly adjourn to chew the cud of politics; and 
 are encompassed with a ring of disciples, who lie 
 in wait to catch up their droppings. The three 
 brothers had acquired forty other qualifications 
 of the like stamp, too tedious to recount ; and* 
 by consequence, were justly reckoned the most 
 accomplished persons in the town. But all would 
 not suffice, and the ladies aforesaid continued 
 still inflexible. To clear up which difficulty, I 
 must, with the reader's good leave and patience, 
 have recourse to some points of weight, which the 
 authors of that age have not sufficiently illus- 
 trated. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB, 83 
 
 For about this time it happened, a sect arose, 
 whose tenets obtained and spread very far, espe- 
 cially in the grand monde, and among every body 
 of good fashion*. They worshipped a sort of 
 idolf, who, as their doctrine delivered, did daily 
 create men by a kind of manufactory operation. 
 This idol they placed in the highest parts of the 
 house, on an altar erected about three foot He 
 was shewn in the posture of a Persian Emperor, 
 sitting on a superficies, with his legs interwoven 
 under him. This god had a goose for his ensign; 
 whence it is, that some learned men pretend to 
 deduce his original from Jupiter Capitolinus. 
 At his left hand, beneath the altar, hell seemed 
 to open, and catch at the animals the idol was 
 creating: to prevent which, certain of his priests 
 hourly flung in pieces of the uninformed mass or 
 subsiance, and sometimes whole limbs already en- 
 livened; which that horrid gulph insatiably swal- 
 lowed, terrible to behold. The goose was also 
 held a subaltern divinity, or dens minorum gen-' 
 tium ; before whose shrine was sacrificed that 
 creature, whose hourly food is human gore, and 
 who is in so great renown abroad for being 
 the delight and favourite of the ^Egyptian Cer- 
 
 * This is an occasional satire upon dress and fashion, 
 in order to introduce what follows. 
 f By this idol is meant a tailor. 
 E 6 
 
84 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 copithecus # . Millions of these animals were 
 cruelly slaughtered every day, to appease the 
 hunger of that consuming deity. The chief idol 
 was also worshipped as the inventor of the yard 
 and needle; whether as the god of seamen, or on 
 account of certain other mystical attributes, hath 
 not been sufficiently cleared. 
 
 The worshippers of this deity had also a system 
 of their belief, which seemed to turn upon the 
 following fundamentals. They held the universe 
 to be a large suit of cloaths, which invests every 
 thing: That the earth is invested by the air; the 
 air is invested by the stars; and the stars are in- 
 vested by theprimum mobile. Look on this globe 
 of earth, you will find it to be a very complete 
 and fashionable dress. What is that which some 
 call land, but a fine coat faced with green ? or 
 the sea, but a waistcoat of water-tabby? Pro- 
 ceed to the particular works of the creation, you 
 will find how curious journeyman Nature hath 
 been, to trim up the vegetable beaux : Observe 
 how sparkish a periwig adorns the head of a beech, 
 and what a fine doublet of white sattin is worn 
 by the birch. To conclude from all, what is 
 
 * The ^Egyptians worshipped a monkey; which ani- 
 mal is very fond of eating lice, styled here creatures 
 that feed on human gore. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 85 
 
 man himself but a micro-coat # ; or rather a com- 
 plete suit of cloaths, with all its trimmings ? As 
 to his body, there can be no dispute. But exa- 
 mine even the acquirements of his mind, you will 
 find them allcontribute in their order towards fur- 
 nishing out an exact dress. To instance no more ; 
 is not religion a cloak ; honesty a pair of shoes, 
 worn out in the dirt; self-love a surtout; vanity 
 a shirt; and conscience a pair of breeches, which, 
 though a cover for lewdness as well as nastiness, 
 is easily slipt down for the service of both? 
 
 These postulata being admitted, it will follow 
 in due course of reasoning, that those beings, 
 which the world calls improperly suits ofcloaths 9 
 are in reality the most refined species of animals; 
 or, to proceed higher, that they are rational 
 creatures, or men. For is it not manifest, that 
 they live, and move, and talk, and perform all 
 other offices of human life ? Are not beauty and 
 wit, and mein, and breeding, their inseparable 
 properties ? In short, we see nothing but them, 
 hear nothing but them. Is it not they who walk 
 
 the streets, fill up parliament , coffee- , 
 
 play , bawdy houses? It is true indeed, that 
 
 these animals, which are vulgarly called suits of 
 cloaths, or dresses, do, according to certain com- 
 
 * Alluding to the word microcosm, or a little world, 
 as man hath been called by philosophers. 
 
86 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 positions, receive different appellations. If one 
 of them be trimmed up with a gold chain, and a 
 red gown, and a white rod, and a great horse, it 
 is called a Lord Mayor ; if certain ermins and furs 
 be placed in a certain position, we style them a 
 Judge; and so, an apt conjunction of lawn and 
 black sattin, we intitlea Bishop. 
 
 Others of these professors, though agreeing in 
 the main system, were yet more refined upon 
 certain branches of it; and held, that man was 
 an animal compounded of two dresses, the natural 
 and the celestial suit ; which were the body and 
 the soul; that the soul was the outward, and the 
 body the inward cloathing ; that the latter was 
 ex traduce, but the former of daily creation and 
 eircumfusion. This last they proved by scripture ; 
 because in them we live, and move, and have our 
 being : as likewise by philosophy ; because they, 
 are are all in all, and all in every part. Besides, 
 said they, separate these two, and you will find 
 the body to be only a senseless unsavoury carcase. 
 By all which it is manifest, that the outward 
 dress must needs be the soul. 
 
 To this system of religion were tagged several 
 subaltern doctrines # , which were entertained 
 
 • The first part of the tale, is the history of Peter. 
 Thereby Popery is exposed. Every body knows, the Pa- 
 pists have made great additions to Christianity; that in- 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 87 
 
 with great vogue; as, particularly, the faculties 
 of the mind were deduced by the learned among 
 them in this manner. Embroidery was sheer wit ; 
 goldfringe was agreeable conversation; gold lace was 
 repartee; a huge long periwig was humour; and 
 a coat full of powder was very good r allien/ : All 
 which required abundance ofjinesseanddelicatesse 
 to manage with advantage, as well as a strict ob- 
 servance after times and fashions. 
 
 I have, with much pains and reading, collected 
 out of antient authors, this short summary of a 
 body of philosophy and divinity • which seems to 
 have been composed by a vein and race of think - 
 
 deed is the great exception which the Church of England: 
 makes against them: Accordingly, Peter begins his pranks 
 with adding a shoulder-knot to his coat. W. Wot ton. 
 
 The actions of Peter, are the actions of a man intoxica- 
 ted with pride, power, rage, tyranny, and self-conceit. 
 These passions are placed in the most ridiculous light: and 
 the effects of them produce to us the tenets and doctrines 
 of papal Rome, such as purgatory, penance, images, in- 
 dulgences, auricular confession, transubstantiation, and 
 those dreadful monsters the pontifical bulls, which, accor- 
 ding to this ludicrous author, derived their original from 
 the famous bulls of Colchis, described by Ovid. 
 
 Terribiles vultus, prqfixaque cornua ferro ; 
 Puhertumque solum pede pulsa vere bisulco ; 
 Fumificisque locum mugitibus implevere* 
 
 Met. L vii. V. 112. 
 
88 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 ing, very different from any other systems, either 
 ancient or modern. And it was not merely to en- 
 tertain or satisfy the reader's curiosity, but ra- 
 ther to give him light into several circumstances 
 of the following story; that, knowing the state 
 of dispositions and opinions in an age so remote, 
 he may better comprehend those great events 
 which were the issue of them. I advise therefore 
 the courteous reader, to peruse, with a world of 
 application, again and again, whatever I have 
 written upon this matter. And leaving these 
 broken ends, I carefully gather up the chief 
 thread of my story, and proceed* 
 
 These opinions therefore were so universal, as 
 w r ell as the practices of them, among the refined 
 part of court and town, that our three brother- 
 adventurers, as their circumstances then stood, 
 were strangely at a loss. For, on the one side, 
 the three ladies they addressed themselves to, 
 whom we have named already, were ever at the 
 very top of the fashion, and abhorred all that were 
 below it but the breadth of a hair. On the other 
 side, their father's will was very precise; and it 
 was the main precept in it, with the greatest pe- 
 nalties annexed, not to add to, or diminish from 
 their coats,, one thread, without a positive com" 
 mand in the will. Now, the coats their father 
 had left them, were, it is true, of very good 
 cloth; and, besides, so neatly sown, you would 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 89 
 
 swear they were all of a piece; but at the same 
 time very plain, and with little or no ornament*. 
 And it happened, that, before they were a month 
 in town, great shoulder-knots; came up f : Straight 
 all the world wore shoulder-knots ; no approach- 
 ing the ladies ruelles, without the quota of shoul- 
 der-knots. That fellow, cries one, has no soul; 
 zvhere is his shoulder-knot? Our three brethren 
 soon discovered their want by sad experience, 
 meeting in their walks with forty mortifications 
 and indignities. If they went to the playhouse, 
 the door-keeper shewed them into the twelve- 
 penny gallery. If they called a boat, says a water- 
 man, / am first sculler. If they stepped to the 
 Rose to take a bottle, the drawer would cry, 
 Friend, we sell no ale. If they went to visit a la- 
 
 * His description of the cloth of which the coat was 
 made, has a farther meaning than the words may seem to 
 import: ; * The coats, their father had left them, were of 
 * very good cloth; and, besides, so neatly sown, you 
 " would swear they were all of a piece; but, at the same 
 " time, very plain, with little or no ornament/' This is 
 the distinguishing character of the Christian religion. 
 Christiani religio absoluta ct simplex, was Ammianus Mar- 
 cellinus'a description of it, who was himself a Heathen. 
 
 W. Wotton. 
 f By this is understood the first introducing of page- 
 antry, and unnecessary ornaments in the church, such as 
 were neither for convenience or edification; as a shoulder* 
 knot, in which jthere is neither symmetry nor use. 
 
90 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 dy, a footman met them at the door, with Pray 
 send up your message. In this unhappy case they 
 went immediately to consult their father's will ; 
 read it over and over, but not a word of the 
 shoulder-knot. What should they do? What 
 temper should they find? Obedience was abso- 
 lutely necessary, and yet shoulder-knots appeared 
 extremely requisite. After much thought, one 
 of the brothers, who happened to be more book- 
 learned than the other two, said, he had found 
 an expedient. It is true, said he, there is nothing 
 here in this will, totidem verbis # , making mention 
 of shoulder-knots: But I dare conjecture, we may 
 find them inclusive, or totidem syllabis. This dis- 
 tinction was immediately approved by all; and 
 so they fell again to examine. But their evil star 
 had so directed the matter, that the first syllable 
 was not to be found in the whole writing. Up- 
 on which disappointment, he who found the far- 
 mer evasion, took heart, and said, Brothers, there 
 isyet hope \for though we cannot find them totidem 
 verbis, nor totidem syllabis, I dare engage we shall 
 
 * When the Papists cannot find any thing which they 
 want in scripture, they go to oral tradition. Thus Peter 
 is introduced dissatisfied with the tedious way of looking 
 for all the letters of any word, which he has occasion for 
 in the will; when neither the constituent syllables, nor 
 much less the whole word, were there in termini*. 
 
 W. Wotton. 
 

 A TALE OF A TUB. Q{ 
 
 make them out tertio modo, or totidem Uteris. 
 This discovery was also highly commended : Up- 
 on which they fell once more to the scrutiny, 
 and picked out S, H, O, U, L, D, E, R, when 
 the same planet, enemy to their repose, had won- 
 derfully contrived that a K was not to be found. 
 Here was a weighty difficulty! But the distin- 
 guishing brother, for whom we shall hereafter 
 find a name, now his hand was in, proved, by a 
 very good argument, that K was a modern illegi- 
 timate letter, unknown to the learned ages, nor 
 any where to be found in ancient manuscripts. 
 " 'Tis true" (said he) " the word Calender hath 
 11 in Q. V. C. # been sometimes written with a 
 " K, but erroneously; for in the best copies it 
 " has been ever spelt with a C. And, by conse- 
 " quence, it was a gross mistake in our language 
 " to spell knot with a K ; but that from hence- 
 " forward he would take care it should be writ- 
 " ten with a C" Upon this all farther difficulty 
 vanished; shoulder-knots were made clearly out to 
 he jure paterno ; and our three gentlemen swag- 
 gered with as large and as flaunting ones as the 
 best. 
 
 But as human happiness is of a very short du- 
 ration, so in those days were human fashions, 
 
 * Quibusdam veteribus codicibus : Some antient manu- 
 scripts. 
 
§£ A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 upon which it entirely depends. Shoulder-knots 
 had their time; and we must now imagine them 
 in their decline : For a certain lord came just from 
 Paris, with fifty yards of gold-lace upon his coat, 
 exactly trimmed after the court-fashion of that 
 month. In two days, all mankind appeared closed 
 up in bars of gold-lace*. Whoever durst peep 
 abroad without his complement of gold-lace, was 
 
 as scandalous as a , and as ill received among 
 
 the women. What should our three knights do 
 in this momentous affair? They had sufficiently 
 strained a point already, in the affair of shoulder- 
 knots. Upon recourse to the will, nothing ap- 
 peared there but altum silentium. That of the 
 shoulder-knots was a loose, flying, circumstantial 
 point; but this of gold-lace seemed too consider- 
 able an alteration without better warrant: It did 
 aliquo modo essentia adharere, and therefore re- 
 quired a positive precept. But about this time it 
 fell out, that the learned brother aforesaid had 
 read Aristotelis dialectics; and especially that won- 
 derful piece, de inlerpretatione, which has the fa- 
 culty of teaching its readers to fin d out a meaning 
 in every thing but itself; like commentators on 
 the Revelations, who proceed prophets without 
 
 * I cannot tell, whether the author means any new in- 
 noration by this word, or whether it be only to introduce 
 the new methods of forcing and perverting scripture. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. Q3 
 
 understanding a syllable of the text. Brothers, 
 said he, you are to be informed, that of wills duo 
 sunt genera, nuncupatory # andscriptory. Thatin 
 the script ory will here before us, there is no precept 
 or mention about gold-lace, conceditur; but, si 
 idem affirmetur de nuncupatoria, negatur. For 
 brothers, if you remember, we heard a fellow say, 
 when we were boys, that he heard my father's man 
 lay, that he heard my father say, that he would ad- 
 vise his sons to get gold-lace on their coats, as soon 
 as ever they could procure money to buy it. ByG — , 
 that is very true, cries the other ; / remember it 
 perfectly well, said the third. And so, without 
 more ado, they got the largest gold-lace in the 
 parish, and walked about as fnie as lords. 
 
 A while after, there came up, all in fashion, a 
 pretty sort of fame-coloured sattin f for linings ; 
 
 * By this is meant tradition, allowed to have equal 
 authority with the scripture, or rather greater. 
 
 f This is purgatory, whereof he speaks more particular- 
 ly hereafter, but here, only to shew how scripture was 
 perverted to prove it; which was done, by giving e- 
 qual authority, with the canon, to Apocrypha, called 
 here a codocil annexed. 
 
 It is likely the author, in every one of these changes in 
 the brothers dresses, refers to some particular error in the 
 church of Rome; though it is not easy, I think, to apply 
 ihera all. But by this of flame-coloured sattin, is manifest- 
 ly intended purgatory, by gold- lace may perhaps beun- 
 
94 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 and the mercer brought a pattern of it immediate- 
 ly to our three gentlemen : Ari please your wor- 
 ships, said he, my Lord C — > and Sir J. W. had 
 linings out of this very piece last night. It takes 
 wonderfully ; and I shall not have a remnant left, 
 enough to make my wife a pin-cushion, by to-morrozv 
 morning at ten a clock. Upon this they fell again 
 to rummage the will, because the present case also 
 required a positive precept, the lining being held 
 by orthodox writers to be of the essence of the 
 coat. After long search, they could fix upon 
 nothing to the matter in hand, except a short 
 advice of their father in the will, to take care of 
 fire, and put out their candles before they went to 
 sleep *. This, though a good deal for the pur- 
 pose, and helping very far towards self-conviction, 
 yet not seeming wholly of force to establish a 
 command ; (being resolved to avoid farther scru- 
 ple, as well as future occasion for scandal), says 
 he that was the scholar, 1 remember to have read 
 in wills, of a codicil annexed \ which is indeed apart 
 
 derstood, the lofty ornaments and plate in the churches. 
 The shoulder-knots and silver fringe are not so obvious, at 
 least to me. But the indian figures of men, women, and 
 children, plainly relate to the pictures in the Ilomish 
 churches, of God like an old man, of the virgin Mary, 
 and our Saviour as a child. 
 
 * That is, to take care of hell; and in order to do 
 that, to subdue aad extinguish their lusts. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 95 
 
 of the will; and zvhatit contains hath equal autho- 
 rity zvith the rest. Nozv, I have been considering 
 of this same zvill here before us; and I cannot reckon 
 it to be eompletefor want of such a codicil. I will 
 therefore fasten one in its proper place very dex- 
 trously. I have had it by me some time. It was 
 written by a dog-keeper of my grandfather's* ; and 
 talks a great deal, as good luck would have it, of 
 this very fame-coloured sattin. The project was 
 immediately approved by the other two; an old 
 parchment scroll was tagged on according to 
 art, in the form of a codicil annexed, and the sat- 
 tin bought and worn. 
 
 Next winter, a player, hired for the purpose 
 by the corporation of fringe-makers, acted his 
 part in a new comedy, all covered with silver- 
 fringe^; and, according to the laudable custom, 
 gave rise to that fashion. Upon which, the 
 brothers consulting their father's will, to their 
 great astonishment found these words : Item, I 
 charge and command my $aid three sons, to wear no 
 sort q/silver-fringe upon or about their said lcoats,fyc» 
 with a penalty, in case of disobedience, too long 
 here to insert. However, after some pause, the 
 brother so often mentioned for his erudition,, 
 
 * I believe this refers to that part of the Apocrypha 
 where mention is made of 1 obit and his dog, 
 
 f This is certainly the farther introducing the pomps 
 of habit and ornament. 
 
96 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 who was well skilled in criticisms, had found in a 
 certain author, which he said shouM be nameless, 
 that the same word, which in the will is called 
 fringe, does also signify a broom-stick* ; and doubt- 
 less ought to have the same interpretation in this 
 paragraph. This another of the brothers dislik- 
 ed, because of that epithet silver ; which could 
 not, he humbly conceived, in propriety of speech, 
 be reasonably applied to a broom-stick. But it was 
 replied upon him, that this epithet was under- 
 stood mamythological and allegorical sense. How- 
 ever, he objected again, why their father should 
 forbid them to wear a broom-stick on their coats ; 
 a caution that seemed unnatural and imperti- 
 nent. Upon which he was taken up short, as 
 one that spoke irreverently of a mystery ; which 
 doubtless was very useful and significant, but 
 ought not to be over-curiously pried into, or nice- 
 ly reasoned upon. And, in short, their father's 
 authority being now considerably sunk, this ex- 
 pedient was allowed toserve as a lawful dispensa- 
 tion for wearing their full proportion of silver- 
 fringe. 
 
 A while after, was revived an old fashion, long 
 antiquated, of embroidery with Indian figures of 
 
 * The next subject of our author's wit, is the glosses 
 and interpretations of scripture, very many absurd ones 
 of which are allowed in the most authentic books of 
 the church of Rome. W. Wotton. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 97 
 
 men, women, and children # . Here they re- 
 membered but too well, how their father had al- 
 ways abhorred this fashion ; that he made several 
 paragraphs on purpose, importing his utter de- 
 testation of it, and bestowing his everlasting curse 
 to his sons, whenever they should wear it. For 
 all this, in a few days, they appeared higher in 
 the fashion than any body else in the town. But 
 they solved the matter, by saying that these 
 figures were not at all the same with those that 
 were formerly worn, and were meant in the will. 
 Besides, they did not wear them in the sense as 
 forbidden by their father; but as they were a 
 commendable custom, and of great use to the 
 public. That these rigorous clauses in the will 
 did therefore require some allozvance, and a fa- 
 vourable interpretation, and ought to be under- 
 stood cum grano salis. 
 
 But fashions perpetually altering in that age, 
 the scholastic brother grew weary of searching 
 farther evasions, and sclving everlasting contra- 
 dictions. Resolved therefore, at all hazards, to 
 comply with the modes of the werld, they con- 
 certed matters together, and agreed unanimously, 
 
 ♦ The images of saints, the blessed virgin, and our 
 Saviour an infant. 
 
 Ibid. Images in the church of Rome, give him but 
 too fair a handle, The brothers remembered, §c. The 
 allegory, here is direct. W. Wotton. 
 
98 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 to lock up their father's will in a strong box *, 
 brought out of Greece or Italy, I have forgotten 
 which; and trouble themselves no farther to ex- 
 amine it, but only refer to its authority whenever 
 they thought fit. In consequence whereof, a 
 while after, it grew a general mode to wear an in- 
 finite number of points, most of them tagged with 
 silver. Upon which, the scholar pronounced ex 
 catheclraf, thi\tpoi?its were absolutely jure paterno, 
 as they might very well remember. It is true, 
 indeed, the fashion prescribed somewhat more 
 than were directly named in the will : However, 
 that they, as heirs-general of their father, had 
 power to make and add certain clauses for public 
 emolument, though notdeducible, totidem verbis, 
 from the letter of the will ; or else rnulta absurda 
 
 * The papists formerly forbade the people the use of 
 scripture in a vulgar tongue: Peter therefore locks up his 
 fathers will in a strong box, brought out of Greece or It a- 
 lyv These countries are named, because the New Testa- 
 ment is written in Greek; and the vulgar Latin, which is 
 the authentic edition of the llible in the church of Rome, 
 is the language of old Italy. W. Wotton. 
 
 f The Popes, in their decretals and bulls, have given 
 their sanction to very many gainful doctrines, which are 
 now received in the chucrh of Rome, that are ;not men- 
 tioned \ti scripture, and are unknown to the primitive 
 church. Peter accordingly pronounces ex cathedra, that 
 points tagged with silver were absolutely jure paterno; and 
 so they wore them in great numbers. W. Wotton. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 99 
 
 sequerentur. This was understood for canonical, 
 and therefore, on the following Sunday, they 
 came to church all covered with points. 
 
 The learned brother, so often mentioned, was 
 reckoned the best scholar, in all that, or the next 
 street to it ; insomuch, as having run something 
 behind-hand in the world, he obtained the favour 
 of a certain lord*, to receive him into his hou^e, 
 and to teach his children. A while after, the 
 lord died ; and he, by long practice of his father's 
 will, found the way of contriving a deed of convey* 
 ance of that house to himself and his heirs. 
 Upon which he took possession, turned the young 
 'squires out, and received his brothers in their 
 stead f. 
 
 * This was Constantine the Great, from whom the 
 Popes pretend a donation of St Peter's patrimony, which 
 they have been never able to produce. 
 
 t Ibid. The bishops of Rome enjoyed their privileges in 
 Rome, at first by the favour of the emperors, whom at 
 last they shut out of their own capital city, and then forg- 
 ed a ^donation from Constantine the Great, the better to 
 justify what they did. In imitation of this, Peter, having 
 run something behind-hand in the world, obtained leave of # 
 certain lord, fyc, W* Wotton. 
 
 F 2 
 
100 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS*. 
 
 
 ALTHOUGH I have been hitherto as cautious 
 as I could, upon all occasions, most nicely to 
 follow the rules and methods of writing laid 
 down by the example of our illustrious mo- 
 derns; yet has the unhappy shortness of my me- 
 mory led me into an error, from which I must 
 extricate myself, before I can decently pursue my 
 principal subject* I confess with shame, it was 
 an unpardonable omission to proceed so far as I 
 have already done, before I had performed the 
 due discourses, expostulatory, supplicatory, or 
 deprecatory, with my good lords the critics. To- 
 wards some atonement for this grievous neglect, 
 I do here make humbly bold to present them 
 
 * The several digressions are written in ridicule of bad 
 critics, dull commentators, and the whole fraternity of 
 Grub-street philosophers. Orrery. 
 
 i 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 101 
 
 with a short account of themselves and their art, 
 by looking into the original and pedigree of the 
 word as it is generally understood among us, and 
 very briefly considering the ancient and present 
 state thereof. 
 
 By the word critic, at this day so frequent in 
 all conversations, there have sometimes been di- 
 stinguished three very different species of mortal 
 men, according as I have read in ancient books and 
 pamphlets. For, first, by this term was under- 
 stood such persons as invented or drew up rules 
 for themselves and the world; by observing which, 
 a careful reader might be able to pronounce upon 
 the productions of the learned, from his taste to 
 a true relish of the sublime and the admirable, and 
 divide every beaut}' of matter or of style from the 
 corruption that apes it : in their common peru- 
 sal of books, singling out the errors and defects, 
 the nauseous, the fulsome, the dull, and the im- 
 pertinent, with the caution of a man that walks 
 through Edinburgh streets in a morning : who is 
 indeed as careful as he can, to watch diligent- 
 ly, and spy out the filth in his way ; not that he 
 is curious to observe the colour and complexion 
 of the ordure, or take its dimensions, much less 
 to be paddling in, or tasting ; but only with a de- 
 sign to come out as cleanly as he may. These 
 men seem, though very erroneously, to have un- 
 derstood the appellation of critic in a literal sense ; 
 
 f 3 
 
102 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 that one principal part of his office, was to praise 
 and acquit ; and that a critic, who sets up to read 
 only for an occasion of censure and reproof, is a 
 creature as barbarous as a judge, who should 
 take up a resolution to hang all men that came 
 before him upon a trial. 
 
 Again, by the word critic have been meant the 
 restorers of ancient learning, from the worms, 
 and graves, and dust of manuscripts. 
 
 Now, the races of those two have been for 
 some ages utterly extinct; and besides, to dis- 
 course any farther of them, would not be at all 
 to my purpose. 
 
 The third, and noblest sort, is that of the 
 TRUE CRITIC, whose original is the most an- 
 cient of all. Every true critic is a hero born, de- 
 scending in a direct line from a celestial stem by 
 Momus and Hybris, who begat Zoilus, who be- 
 gat Tigellius, who begat Etcetera the elder, who 
 begat Bentley and Rymer, and Wotton, and 
 Perrault, and Dennis, who begat Etcetera the 
 younger 
 
 And these are the critics from whom the com- 
 mon-wealth of learning has in all ages received 
 such immense benefits, that the gratitude of 
 their admirers placed their origin in heaven, a- 
 mong those of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, and 
 other great deservers of mankind. But heroic 
 virtue itself hath not been exempt from the oblo- 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 103 
 
 quy of evil tongues. For it hatli been objected, 
 that those ancient heroes, famous for their com- 
 bating so many giants, and dragons, and robbers, 
 were in their own persons a greater nuisance to 
 mankind, than any of those monsters they sub- 
 dued; and therefore, to render their obligations 
 more complete, when all other vermin were de- 
 stroyed, should in conscience have concluded 
 with the same justice upon themselves ; as Her- 
 cules most generously did; and hath, upon that 
 score, procured to himself more temples and vo- 
 taries, than the best of his fellows. For these 
 reasons, I suppose, it is, why some have con- 
 ceived, it would be very expedient for the pub- 
 lic good of learning, that every true critic, as 
 soon as he had finished his task assigned, should 
 immediately deliver himself up to ratsbane, or 
 hemp, or from some convenient attitude ; and 
 that no man's pretensions to so illustrious a cha- 
 racter, should by any means be received, before 
 that operation were performed. 
 
 Now, from this heavenly descent of criticism^ 
 and the close analogy it bears to heroic virtue, it 
 is easy to assign the proper employment of a true 
 ancient genuine critic ; which is, to travel through 
 this vast world of writings ; to pursue and hunt 
 those monstrous faults bred within them ; to drag 
 out the lurking errors, like Cacus from his den ; 
 to multiply them like Hydra's heads ; and rake 
 
 f 4 
 
104 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 tbem together like Augeas's dung : or else drive 
 away a sort of dangerous fowl , who have a per- 
 verse inclination to plunder the best branches of 
 the treeofknozoledge, like those Stymphalian birds 
 that eat up the fruit. 
 
 These reasonings will furnish us with an ade- 
 quate definition of a true critic ; that he is a dis- 
 coverer and collector of writers faults ; which may 
 be farther put beyond dispute, by the following 
 demonstration : That whoever will examine the 
 writings in all kinds, wherewith this antient sect 
 has honoured the world, shall immediately find, 
 from the whole thread and tenor of them, that 
 the ideas of the authors have been altogether 
 conversant and taken up with the faults, and ble- 
 mishes, and oversights, and mistakes of other 
 writers ; and, let the subject treated on be what- 
 ever it will, their imaginations are so entirely pos- 
 sessed, and replete with the defects of other pens, 
 that the very quintessence of what is bad, does of 
 necessity distill into their own ; by which means, 
 the whole appears to be nothing else but an ab- 
 stract of the criticisms they themselves have made. 
 
 Having thus briefly considered the original and 
 office of a critic, as the word is understood in its 
 most noble and universal acceptation; I proceed 
 to refute the objections of those who argue from 
 the silence and pretermission of authors; by 
 which they pretend to prove, that the very art of 
 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 105 
 
 criticism, as now exercised, and by me explained, 
 is wholly modern, and consequently, that the 
 critics of Great Britain and France, have no title 
 to an original so ancient and illustrious as I have 
 deduced. Now, if I can clearly make out, on 
 the contrary, that the most ancient writers have 
 particularly described both the person and the 
 office of a true- critic, agreeable to the definition 
 laid down by me; their grand objection, from 
 the silence of authors, will fall to the ground. 
 
 I confess to have for a long time borne a part 
 in this general error ; from which I should never 
 have acquitted myself, but through the assistance 
 of our noble modems: whose most edifying vo- 
 lumes I turn indefatigably over night and day, 
 for the improvement of my mind, and the good 
 of my country. Th^se have with unwearied 
 pains made many useful searches into the weak 
 sides of the ancients, and given a comprehensive 
 list of them. Besides, they have proved beyond 
 contradiction, that the very finest things, deliver- 
 ed of old, have been long since invented, and 
 brought to light by much later pens* ; and that 
 the noblest discoveries, those ancients ever made 
 of art and nature, have all been produced by the 
 transcending genius of the present age. Which 
 clearly shews, how little merit those ancients caa 
 
 * See Wotton of ancient and modern learning., 
 £ 5 
 
106 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 ST . - , . - ' ,. ,, , : . • ... , , - ; '„ -:.z= s 
 
 justly pretend to; and takes off that blind admi" 
 ration paid them by men in a corner, who have 
 the unhappiness of conversing too little with pre- 
 sent things. Reflecting maturely upon all this, and 
 taking in the whole compass of human nature, I 
 easily concluded, that these ancients, highly sen- 
 sible of their many imperfections, must needs 
 have endeavoured, from some passages in their 
 works, to obviate, soften, or divert the censori- 
 ous reader, by satire or panegyric? upon the true 
 critics, in imitation of their masters, the moderns. 
 Now, in the common places of both these*, I was 
 plentifully instructed, by a long course of useful 
 study in prefaces and prologues ; and therefore im- 
 mediately resolved to try what I could discover 
 of either, by a diligent perusal of the most anci- 
 ent writers, and especially those who treated of 
 the earliest times. Here I found, to my great 
 surprise, that although they ail entered, upon 
 occasion, into particular descriptions of the true 
 critic, according as they were governed by their 
 fears or their hopes ; yet whatever they touehecj. 
 of that kind, was with abundance of caution, ad- 
 venturing no farther than mythology and hierogly- 
 phic. This, I suppose, gave ground to superficial 
 readers, for urging the silence of authors against 
 the antiquity of the true critic; though the types 
 
 * Satire and panegyric upon critics. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 107 
 
 are so apposite, and the applications so necessary 
 and natural, that it is not easy to conceive, how 
 any reader of a modern eye and taste could over- 
 look them. I shall venture, from a great num- 
 ber to produce a few, which, I am very confi- 
 dent, will put this question beyond dispute. 
 
 It well deserves considering, that these ancient 
 writers, in treating enigmatically upon the sub- 
 ject, have generally fixed upon the very same hie* 
 roglyph ; varying only the story, according to 
 their affections, or their wit. For, first, Pausa- 
 nias is of opinion, that the perfection of writing 
 correct, was entirely owing to the institution of 
 critics. And that he can possibly mean no other 
 than the true critic, is, I think, manifest enough 
 from the following description. He says*, 
 " They were a race of men who delighted to nib- 
 ble at the superfluities and excrescences of 
 books ; which the learned at length observing, 
 took warning, of their own accord, to lop the 
 luxuriant, the rotten, the dead, the sapless, 
 and the overgrown branches, from their 
 works." But now, ail this he cunningly shades 
 under the following allegory: u That the Naup- 
 lians in Argos learned the art of pruning their vi- 
 nes, by observing, that when an ASS' had brow- 
 sed upon one of them, it thrived the better, and 
 bore fairer fruit." But Herodotus f, holding the 
 
 * Lib. * t Lib. 4. 
 
 ip 6 
 
?08 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 very same hieroglyph, speaks much plainer, and 
 almost in terminis. He hath been so bold as to 
 tax the true critics of ignorance and malice, tell- 
 ing us openly, for I think nothing can be plain- 
 er, that " in the western part of Libya, there 
 were ASSES with horns." Upon which rela- 
 tion Ctesias # yet refines, mentioning the very 
 same animal about India: adding, " that 
 whereas all other Asses wanted a gall, these 
 horned ones were so redundant in that part, that 
 their flesh was not to be eaten, because of its ex- 
 treme bitterness." 
 
 Now, the reason why those ancient writers 
 treated this subject only by types and figures, was, 
 because they durst not make open attacks against 
 a party so potent and terrible, as the critics of 
 those ages were; whose very voice was so dread- 
 ful, that a legion of authors would tremble, and 
 drop their pens at the sound: for so Herodotus 
 tells us expressly in another place f, how u a vast 
 army of Scythians was put to flight in a panic ter- 
 ror by the braying of an Ass." From hence it is 
 conjectured by certain profound philologers, that 
 the great awe and reverence paid to a true critic 
 by the writers of Britain, have been derived to 
 us from those our Scythian ancestors. In short* 
 
 * Yide excerpta ex eo apud Photiuro. 
 i Lib. 4. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 109 
 
 this dread was so universal, that, in process of 
 time, those authors who had a mind to publish 
 their sentiments more freely, in describing the 
 true critics of their several ages, were forced to 
 leave off the use of the former hieroglyph, as too 
 nearly approaching the prototype ; and invented 
 other terms instead thereof, that were more cau- 
 tious and mystical. So Diodorus # , speaking to 
 the same purpose, ventures no farther than to say, 
 that, " in the mountains of Helicon, there grows 
 a certain weed, which bears a flower of so 
 damned a scent, as to poison those who offer to 
 smell it." Lucretius gives exactly the same re- 
 lation : 
 
 Est etiam in raagnis H-eliconis montibus arbos, 
 Floris odore hominem retro consueta necare.f 
 
 Lib. 6\ 
 But Ctesias, whom we lately quoted, hath been 
 a great deal bolder* He had been used with 
 much severity by the true critics of his own age> 
 and therefore could not forbear to leave behind 
 him, at least, one deep mark of his vengeance 
 against the whole tribe. His meaning is so-nea? 
 the surface, that I wonder how it possibly came 
 to be overlooked by those who deny the aatiqui- 
 
 * Lib, 
 
 f Near Helicon, and round the learned hill, 
 Grow trees whose blossoms with their odour kill* 
 
110 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 ty of the true critics. For, pretending to make a 
 description of many strange animals about India, 
 he hath set down these remarkable words. " A 
 mongst the rest/' says he, " there is a serpent 
 that wants teeth, and consequently cannot bite; 
 but if its vomit, to which it is much addicted, hap- 
 pens to fall upon any thing, a certain rottenness or 
 corruption ensues. These serpents are generally 
 found among the mountains where jewels grow, 
 and they frequently emit a poisonous juice; 
 whereof whoever drinks, that person's brains fly 
 out of his nostrils." 
 
 There was also among the ancients, a sort of 
 critics, not distinguished in specie from the former, 
 but in growth or degree, who seem to have been 
 only the tyro's ov junior scholars ; yet, because of 
 their differing employments, they are frequently 
 mentioned as a sect by themselves. The usual 
 exercise of these younger students was, to attend 
 constantly at theatres, and learn to spy out the 
 worst parts ofthe play, whereof they were obliged 
 carefully to take note, and render a rational ac- 
 count to their tutors. Fleshed at these smaller 
 sports, like young wolves, they grew up in time 
 to be nimble and strong enough for hunting 
 down large game. For it hath been observed, 
 both among ancients and moderns, that a true cri- 
 tic hath one quality in common with a whore and 
 an alderman, never to change his title or his n*w 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. Ill 
 
 ture ; that a grey critic has been certainly a, green 
 one, the perfections and acquirements of his age 
 being only the improved talents of his youth; 
 like hemp, which some naturalists inform us is bad 
 for suffocations, though taken but in the seed. I 
 esteem the invention, or at least the refinement of 
 prologues, to have been owing to these younger 
 proficients, of whom Terence makes frequent 
 and honourable mention, under the name of 
 ma/cvoli. 
 
 Now, it is certain the institution of the true 
 critics, was of absolute necessity to the common- 
 wealth of learning. For all human actions seem 
 to be divided, like Themistocles and his com- 
 pany : One man c&njidd/e* and another can make 
 a small town a great city ; and he that cannot do 
 either one or the other, deserves to be kicked out 
 of the creation. The avoiding of which penalty, 
 has doubtless given the first birth to the nation of 
 critics; and withal, an occasion for their secret 
 detractors to report, that a true critic is a sort of 
 mechanic, set up with a stock and tools for his 
 tradeataslittleexpeneeasataj//or ; and that there 
 is much analogy between the utensils and abilities 
 of both: that the taylor's hell is the type of a 
 critic's common place-book, and his wit and learn- 
 ing held forth by the goose-, that it requires at 
 least as many of these to the making up of one 
 scholar, as of the others to the composition of a 
 
} 12 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 man; 'hat the valour of both is equal, and their 
 weapons near of a size. Much may be said in an- 
 swer to those invidious reflections : and I can 
 positively affim the first to be a fslsehood: For, 
 on the contrary, nothing is more certain, than 
 that it requires greater layings out to be free of 
 the critics company, than of any other you can 
 name. For, as to be a true beggar, it will cost the 
 richest candidate every groat he is worth ; so, 
 before one can commence a true critic, it will cost 
 a man all the good qualities of his mind ; which 
 perhaps for a less purchase would be thought but 
 an indifferent bargain. 
 
 Having thus amply proved the antiquity of 
 criticism, and described the primitive state of it; 
 I shall now examine the present condition of this 
 empire, and shew how well it agrees with its an*- 
 cient self. A certain author, whose works have 
 many ages since been entirely lost, does, in his 
 fifth book, and eighth chapter, say- of critics, that 
 il their writings are the mirrors of learning # ." 
 This I understand in a literal sense ; and suppose 
 our author must mean, that whosoever designs to 
 be aperfect writer, must inspect into the books of 
 critics^ and correct his invention there, as in a 
 mirror. Now, whoever considers, that the mirrors. 
 
 * A quotation after the manner of a great author. Vida 
 Bentle/s dissertation, &c. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. ] IS 
 
 of the ancients were made of brass, and sine mer- 
 curio, may presently apply the two principal qua- 
 lifications of a true modern critic ; and conse- 
 quently must needs conclude, that these have al- 
 ways been, and must be for ever the same. For 
 brass is an emblem of duration, and, when it is 
 skilfully burnished, will cast reflections from its 
 own superficies, without any assistance of mercury 
 from behind. All the other talents of a critic 
 will not require a particular mention, being in- 
 cluded, or easily reducible to these. However, I 
 shall conclude with three maxims, which may 
 serve both as characteristics to distinguish a true 
 modern critic from a pretender, and will be also of 
 admirable use to those worthy spirits who engage 
 in so useful and honourable an art. 
 
 The first is, That criticism, contrary to all o- 
 ther faculties of the intellect, is ever held the 
 truest and best, when it is the very first result of 
 the critics mind : as fowlers reckon the first aim 
 for the surest, and seldom fail of missing the 
 mark, if they stay for a second. 
 
 Secondly, The true critics are known by their 
 talent of swarming about the noblest writers, to 
 which they are carried merely by instinct, as a rat 
 to the best cheese, or a wasp to the fairest fruit. 
 So when the king is on horseback, he is sure to 
 be the dirtiest person of the company ; and they 
 that make their court best, are such as bespatter 
 him most. 
 
114 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Lastly, A true critic in the perusal of a book, is 
 like a dog at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach 
 arc wholly set upon what the guests fling away : 
 and consequently is apt to snarl most when there 
 are the fewest bones. 
 
 Thus much, I think, is sufficient to serve by 
 way of address to my patrons, the true modern; 
 critics ; and may very well atone for my past si- 
 lence, as well as that which I am like to observe 
 for the future. I hope I have deserved so well 
 of their whole body, as to meet with generous and 
 tender usage from their hands. Supported by 
 which expectation, I go on boldly to pursue those 
 adventures already so happily begun. 
 
 SECT. IV. 
 A TALE OF A TUB, 
 
 I have now with much pains and study con- 
 ducted the reader to a period, where he must 
 expect to hear of great revolutions. For no 
 sooner had our learned brother, so often mention- 
 ed, got a warm house of his own over his head, 
 
 I 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 115 
 
 than he began to look big, and take mightily up- 
 on him ; insomuch that., unless the gentle reader, 
 out of his great candour, will please a little to ex- 
 alt his idea, I am afraid he will henceforth hardly 
 know the Aero of the play, when he happens to 
 meet him ; his part, his dress, and his mien being 
 so much altered. 
 
 He told his brothers, he would have them to 
 know that he was their elder, and consequently 
 his father's sole heir ; nay, a while after he would 
 not allow them to call him brother, but Mr. 
 PETER ; and then he must be styled Father 
 PETER, and sometimes My Lord PETER. To 
 support this grandeur, which he soon began to 
 consider could not be maintained without a better 
 fonde than what he was born to ; after much 
 thought, he cast about at last to turn projector and 
 virtuoso ; wherein he so well succeeded, that ma- 
 ny famous discoveries, projects, and machines, 
 which bear great vogue and practice at present in 
 the world, are owing entirely to Lord PETER's 
 invention. I will deduce the best account I have 
 been able to collect, of the chief amongst them ; 
 without considering much the order they came 
 out in ; because, I think, authors are not well a- 
 greed as' to that point. 
 
 I hope, when this treatise of mine shall be 
 translated into foreign languages, (as I may with- 
 out vanity affirm, that the labour of collectings 
 
I 
 
 I 16 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the faithfulness in recounting, and the great use- 
 fulness of the matter to the public, will amply de- 
 serve that justice), that the worthy members of 
 the several academies abroad, especially those of 
 France and Italy, will favourably accept these 
 humble offers for the advancement of universal 
 knowledge. I do also advertise the most reve- 
 rend fathers the eastern missionaries, that I have, 
 purely for their sakes, made use of such words 
 and phrases as will best admit an easy turn into 
 any of the oriental languages, especially the Chi- 
 nese. And so I proceed, with great content of 
 mind, upon reflecting how much emolument this 
 whole globe of the earth is like to reap by my 
 labours. 
 
 The first undertaking of Lord Peter was, ta 
 purchase a large continent # , lately said to have 
 been discovered in Terra Australis Incognita. 
 This tract of land he bought at a very great pen- 
 nyworth from the discoverers themselves, (though 
 some pretended to doubt whether they had ever 
 been there), and then retailed it into several can- 
 tons, to certain dealers, who carried over colonies, 
 but were all shipwrecked in the voyage. Upon 
 which Lord Peter sold the said continent to other 
 customers again, and again, and again, and again, 
 with the same success. 
 
 The second project I shall mention, was his 
 
 • That is purgatory,, 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 117 
 
 sovereign remedy for the worms*, especially those 
 in the spleen. The patient was to eat nothing af- 
 ter supper for three nightsf. As soon as he 
 went to bed, he was carefully to lie on one side; 
 and when he grew weary, to turn upon the other. 
 He must also duly confine his two eyes to the 
 same object ; and by no means break wind at both 
 ends together, without manifest occasion. These 
 prescriptions diligently observed, the worms 
 would void insensibly by perspiration ascending 
 through the brain. 
 
 A third invention was the erecting of a whis- 
 pering office^, for the public good and ease of all 
 such as are hypochondriacal, or troubled with 
 the cholic ; as likewise of all eves-droppers, phy- 
 sicians, midwives, small politicians, friends fall- 
 en out, repeating poets, lovers happy or in des- 
 pair, bawds, privy counsellors, pages, parasites, 
 
 * Penance and absolution are played upon under the 
 notion of a sovereign remedy for the worms, especially in 
 the spleen: which, by observing Peter's prescription, 
 would void insensibly by perspiration, ascending through 
 the brain, &c. W* Wot ton, 
 
 f Here the author ridicules the penances of the church 
 of Rome ; which may be made as easy to the sinner as 
 he pleases, provided he will pay for them accordingly. 
 
 j By his whispering office, for the relief of eves-drop- 
 pers, physicians, bawds, and privy counsellors, he ridicu- 
 les auricular confession ; and the priest, who takes it, is 
 described by the ass's head. W. Wotton. 
 
118 A TALE OP A TUB. s 
 
 and buffoons ; in short, of all such as are in dan- 
 ger of bursting with too much wind. An ass's 
 head was placed so conveniently, that the party 
 affected might easily with his mouth accost ei- 
 ther of the animal's ears; to which he was to ap- 
 ply close for a certain space, and by a fugitive 
 faculty peculiar to the ears of that animal, re- 
 ceive immediate benefit, either by eructation, or 
 expiration, or evomition. 
 
 Another very beneficial project of Lord Pe- 
 ter's was an office of insurance* for tobacco-pipes, 
 martyrs of the modern zeal; volumes of poetry, 
 
 shadows, — and rivers; That these, nor 
 
 any of these, shall receive damage by fire. From 
 whence our friendly societies may plainly find 
 themselves to be only transcribers from this ori- 
 ginal ; though the one and the other have been 
 of great benefit to the undertakers, as well as of 
 equal to the public. 
 
 Lord Peter was also held the original author 
 of puppets and raree-shows^ ; the great usefulness 
 whereof being so generally known, I shall not 
 enlarge farther upon this particular. 
 
 But another discovery, for which he was much 
 
 * This I take to be the office of indulgences, the grosi 
 abuse whereof first gave occasion for the Reformation. 
 
 f I believe are mockeries and ridiculous procession! 
 &c. among the Papists. 
 
A TALE O* A TUB. 1 JQ 
 
 renowned, was his famous universal pickfe** For 
 having remarked how your common pickle f , in 
 use among housewives, was of no farther benefit 
 than to preserve dead flesh, and certain Kinds of 
 vegetables ; Peter, with great cost, as well as art, 
 had contrived a pickle proper for houses, gardens, 
 towns, men. women, chiidien, and cattle; where- 
 in he could preserve them as sound as insects in 
 amber. Now, this pickle, to the taste, the smell, 
 and the sight, appeared exactly the same with 
 what is in common service for beef, and butter, 
 and herrings, and has been often that way appli- 
 ed with great success; but for its many sovereign 
 -irtues, was quite a different thing. For Peter 
 .rould put in a certain quantity of his powder 
 pimperlimpimp^, after which it never failed of 
 success. The operation was performed by sparge- 
 
 * Holy water he calls an universal pickle, to preserve 
 houses, gardens, towns, men, women, children, and cat- 
 tle, wherein he could preserve them as sound as insects 
 in amber. W. Wotton. 
 
 f This is easily understood to be holy water, compo- 
 sed of the same ingredients with many other pickles. 
 
 % And because holy water differs only in consecration 
 from common water, therefore he tells us, that his pic- 
 kle by the powder of pimperlimpimp receives new virtues, 
 though it differs not in sight nor smell from the common 
 pickles, which preserve beef, and butter, and herrings. 
 
 W. Wotton, 
 
120 A TALE OP A TUB. 
 
 faction*, in a proper time of the moon. The 
 patient, who was to be pickled, if it were a house, 
 would infallibly be preserved from all spiders, 
 rats, and weazels; if the party affected were a 
 dog, he should be exempt from mange, and mad- 
 ness, and hunger. It also infallibly took away all 
 scabs and lice, and scald-heads from children ; 
 never hindering the patient from any duty, either 
 at bed or board. 
 
 But of all Peter's rarities he most valued a cer- 
 tain set of bullsf, whose race was by great fortune 
 preserved in a lineal descent from those that 
 guarded the golden fleece ; though some, who 
 pretended to observe them curiously, doubted 
 the breed had not been kept entirely chaste; be- 
 cause they had degenerated from their ancestors 
 in some qualities, and had acquired others very 
 extraordinary, but a foreign mixture. The bulls 
 of Colchis are recorded to have brazen feet. But 
 whether it happened by ill pasture and running, 
 by an allay from intervention of other parents, 
 
 * Sprinkling. 
 
 t The papal bulls are ridiculed by name; so that here 
 we are at no loss for the author's meaning. W. Wotton. 
 
 Ibid. Here the author has kept the name, and means 
 the Pope's bulls, or rather his nominations, and excom- 
 munications of heretical princes, all signed with lead, and 
 the seal of fisherman; and therefore said to have leaden 
 feet and fishes tails. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 121 
 
 from stolen intrigues; whether a weakness in 
 their progenitors had impaired the seminal vir- 
 tue, or, by a decline necessary through a long 
 course of time, the originals of nature being de- 
 praved in these latter sinful ages of the world : 
 whatever was the cause, it is certain, That Lord 
 Peter's bulls were extremely vitiated by the rust 
 of time in the metal of their feet, which w r as now 
 sunk into common lead. However, the terrible 
 roaring peculiar to their lineage, was preserved, 
 as likewise thai faculty of breathing outjire from 
 their nostrils # ; vvhich notwithstanding many of 
 their detractors took to be a feat of art, and to 
 be nothing so terrible as it appeared proceeding 
 only from their usual course of diet, which w r as 
 of squibs and crackersf. However, they had 
 tw T o peculiar marks, which extremely distinguish- 
 ed them from the bulls of Jason, and which I 
 have not met together in the description of any 
 other monster, beside that in Horace, 
 
 * These passages, and many others, no doubt, must be 
 construed as antichristian by the church of Rome. When 
 the chief minister and his minions are exposed, the keener 
 the satire, the more liable it is to be interpreted into high 
 treason against the King. Orrery. 
 
 f These are the fulminations of the Pope, threatening 
 hell and damnation to those princes who offend him. 
 
122 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 <J Varias inducere plnmas; 
 
 and 
 Atrtim desinit in piscern." 
 
 For these hadfishes tails; yet upon occasion could 
 out-fly any bird in the air. Peter put these bulls 
 upon several employs. Sometimes he would set 
 them a roaring to fright naughty boys*, and make 
 them quiet. Sometimes he would send them out 
 upon errands of great importance; where it is 
 wonderful to recount, and perhaps the cautious 
 reader may think much to believe it; anappetitus 
 semibilis deriving itself through the whole family, 
 from their noble ancestors, guardians of the gol- 
 den fleece: they continued so extremely fond of 
 gold, that if Peter sent them abroad, though it 
 were only upon a compliment, they would roar, 
 and spit, and belch, and piss, and J art, and snivel 
 out fire, and keep a perpetual coil, till you flung 
 them a bit of gold; but then, pulveris exigui 
 juctu, they would grow calm and quiet as lambs. 
 3n short, whether by secret connivance, or en- 
 couragement from their master, or out of their 
 own liquorish affection to gold, or both : it is 
 certain they were uo better than a sort of sturdy, 
 swaggering beggars; and, where they could not 
 prevail to get an alms, would make women mis- 
 
 * That is, Kings who incurred his displeasure. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. ]£3 
 
 carry, and children fall into fits : who to this ve- 
 ry day usually call sprights and hobgoblins by 
 the name of bull beggars. They grew at last so 
 very troublesome to the neighbourhood, that 
 some gentlemen of the north-west got a parcel of 
 right english bull-dogs, and baited them so terri- 
 bly, that they felt it ever after. 
 
 I must needs mention one more of Lord Peter's 
 projects, which was very extraordinaiy, and dis- 
 covered him to be a master of a high reach, and 
 profound invention. Whenever it happened that 
 any rogue of Newgate was condemned to be hang-* 
 ed, Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain 
 sum of money; which when the poor caitiff had 
 made all shifts to scrape up, and send, his Lordship 
 would return a piece of paper in this form* : 
 
 " TO all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, consta- 
 " bles, bailiffs', hangmen, &c. Whereas we are 
 " informed, that A. B. remains in the hands of 
 11 you, or some of you, under the sentence of 
 " death ; we will and command you, upon sight 
 " hereof, to let the said prisoner depart to his 
 
 * This is a copy of a general pardon, signed Servus 
 servorum. 
 
 Ibid. Absolution in articula mortis, and the tax camera 
 tpotlo lie®, are jested upon in Emperor Peter's letter. 
 
 W. Wottm. 
 C2 
 
124 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 " own habitation, whether he stands condemned 
 " for murder, sodomy, rape, sacrilege, incest, 
 " treason, blasphemy, &c. for which this shall 
 " be your sufficient warrant. And. if you fail 
 " thereof, G — d' d — mn you and yours to all 
 " eternity. And so we bid you heartilyfarewelL 
 Your most humble 
 
 Mans man, 
 
 Emperor Peter." 
 
 The wretches trusting to this, lost their lives 
 and money too. 
 
 I desire of those whom the learned among po- 
 sterity will appoint for commentators upon this 
 elaborate treatise, that they will proceed with 
 great caution upon certain dark points, wherein 
 all who are not vere adepti, may be in danger to 
 form rash and hasty conclusions ; especially in 
 some mysterious paragraphs, where certain ar- 
 cana are joined for brevity's sake, which in the 
 operation must be divided. And I am certain^ 
 that future sons of art will return large thanks to 
 my memory, for so grateful, so useful an innuendo. 
 
 It will be no difficult part to persuade the 
 reader, that so many worthy discoveries met with 
 great success in the world; though I may justly 
 assure him, that I have related much the smallest 
 number; my design having been only to single 
 ©ut such as will be of most benefit for public imi- 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 125 
 
 tation, or which best served to give some idea 
 of the reach and wit of the inventor. And there- 
 fore it need not b^ wondered, if by this time 
 Lord Peter was become exceeding rich. Bat, 
 alas! he had kept his brain so long and so vio- 
 lently upon the rack, that at last it shook itself, 
 and began to turn round for a little ease. In short, 
 what with pride, projects, and knavery, poor 
 Peter w r as grown distracted, and conceived the 
 strangest imaginations in the world. In the 
 height of his fits, as it is usual with those who 
 run mad out of pride, he would call himself 
 God Almighty*, and sometimes monarch of the 
 universe. I have seen him (says my author) take 
 three old high-crowned hats f, and clap them all 
 on his head, three story high, with a huge bunch 
 of keys at his girdle J, and an angling rod in his 
 hand. In which guise, whoever went to take 
 
 * The Pope is not only allowed to be the vicar of Christ, 
 but by several divines is called God upon earth, and other 
 blasphemous titles are given* him. 
 
 f The triple crown. 
 
 % The keys of the church. The church is here ta- 
 ken for the gate of heaven ; for the keys of heaven are 
 assumed by the Pope in consequence of what our Lord 
 said to Peter, I mil give unto thee the keys of the kingdom 
 of heaven. Hatches. 
 
 Ibid. The Pope's universal monarchy, and his triple 
 crown, and fisher's ring. W. Wotton. 
 
 o S 
 
126 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 him by the hand in the way of salutation, Peter, 
 with much grace, like a well educated spaniel, 
 would present them with his foot*; and if they 
 refused his civility, then he would raise it as high 
 as their chops, and give them a damned kick on 
 the mouth ; which hath ever since been called a 
 salute. Whoever walked by without paying him 
 their complements, having a wonderful strong 
 breath, he would blow their hats off into the 
 dirt. Mean time his affairs at home went upside 
 down, and his two brothers had a wretched time; 
 where his first boutadef was, to kick both their 
 wives one morning out of doors J, and his own 
 too; and in their stead, gave orders to pick up 
 the first three strollers could be jnet with in the 
 streets. A while after he nailed up the cellar- 
 door ; and would not allow his brothers a drop 
 of drink to their victuals §. Dining one day at 
 an alderman's in the city, Peter observed him ex- 
 
 * Neither does his arrogant way of requiring men to 
 kiss his slipper scape reflection. W. Wot ton. 
 
 + This word properly signifies a sudden jerk/ or lash 
 of an horse, when you do not expect it. 
 
 \ The celibacy of the Romish clergy is struck at in 
 Peters beating his own and brothers wives out of doors. 
 
 W. Wotton. 
 
 § The Pope's refusing the cup to the laity, persuading 
 them that the blood is contained in the bread, and that 
 the bread is the real and entire body of Christ. 
 
 ; 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 12? 
 
 patiating, after the manner of his brethren, in the 
 praises of his sirloin of beef. " Beef," said the said 
 magistrate, " is the king of meat : Beef compre- 
 hends in it the quintessence of partridge, and 
 quail, and venison, and pheasant, and plum pud- 
 ding, and custard ." When Peter came home, 
 he would needs take the fancy of cooking up 
 this doctrine into use, and apply the precept, in 
 default of a sirloin, to his brown loaf. " Bread/'* 
 says he, " dear brothers, is the staff of life ; in 
 which bread is contained, inclusive, the quin- 
 tessence of beef, mutton, veal, venison, partridge, 
 plum-pudding, and custard : And to render all 
 complete, there is intermingled a due quantity of 
 water, whose crudities are also corrected by yeast 
 or barm, through which means it becomes a 
 wholesome fermented liquor, diffused through the 
 mass of the bread." Upon the strength of these 
 conclusions, next day at dinner, was the brown 
 loaf served up, in all the formality of a city feast. 
 " Come, brothers," said Peter, " fall to, and 
 spare not; here is excellent good mutton*: or 
 hold, now my hand is in, I will help you." At 
 which word, in much ceremony, with fork and 
 
 * Transubstantiation. Peter turns his bread into mut- 
 ton, and, according to the Popish doctrine of concomitants, 
 his wine too, which in his way he calls palming his damned 
 crusts upon the brothers for mutton, W. Wot ton, 
 
 64 
 
128 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 knife he carves out two good slices of a loaf, and 
 presents each on a plate to his brothers. The el- 
 der of the two, not suddenly entering into Lord 
 Peter's conceit, began with very civil language 
 to examine the mystery. %i My Lord/ 7 said he, 
 (i I doubt, with great submission, there may be 
 some mistake." " What!" says Peter, "you are 
 pleasant: come then, let us hear this jest your 
 head is so big with." " None in the world, my 
 Lord ; but, rnless I am very much deceived, your 
 Lordship was pleased a while ago to let fall a 
 word about mutton, and I would be glad to see 
 it with all my heart." " How !" said Peter, ap- 
 pearinS in great surprise, " I do not comprehend 
 this at all." Upon which, the younger inter- 
 posing to set the business aright; " My Lord," 
 said he, " my brother I suppose is hungry, and 
 longs for the mutton your Lordship hath promi- 
 sed us to dinner." €i Pray," said Peter, " take 
 me along with you. Either you are both mad, or 
 disposed to be merrier than I approve of. If 
 you there do not like your piece, I will carve 
 you another ; though I should take that to be the 
 choice bit of the whole shoulder." " What then 
 my Lord," replied the first, " it seems this is a 
 shoulder of mutton all this while." " Pray, Sir," 
 says Peter, " eat your victuals, and leave ofFyour 
 impertinence, if you please; for I am not dispo- 
 sed to relish it at present." But the other could 
 
A TALE OF X TUB. IQ.Q 
 
 not forbear, being over-provoked at the affected 
 seriousness of Peter's countenance. " By G— , 
 my Lord/' said he, " I can only say, that, to my 
 eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and nose, it seems 
 to be nothing but a crust of bread." Upon which 
 the second put in his word: " I never saw a 
 piece of mutton in my life so nearly resembling a 
 slice from a twelve-penny loaf." " Look ye, gen- 
 tlemen/' cries Peter in a rage, <{ to convince you 
 what a couple of blind, positive, ignorant, wilful 
 puppies you are, I will use but this plain argu- 
 ment; By G — , it is true^ good, natural mutton, 
 as any in Leadenhall-m.irket; and G — confound 
 you both eternally, if you offer to believe other- 
 wise." Such a thundering proof as this left no 
 further room for objection. The two unbeliev- 
 ers began to gather and pocket up their mistakes 
 as hastily as they could. " Why, truly," said 
 the first, " upon more mature consideration — " 
 "Ay/' says the other, interrupting him, " now I 
 have thought better on the thing, your Lordship 
 seems to have a great deal of reason." " Very 
 well," said Peter. " Here, boy, fill me a beer- 
 glass of claret : Here's to you both with all my 
 heart." The two brethren, much delighted to 
 see him so readily appeased, returned their most 
 humble thanks, and said, they would be glad to 
 pledge his Lordship. " That you shall," said 
 Peter. " I am not a person to refuse you any 
 
 G O 
 
130 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 thing that is reasonable. Wine, moderately ta- 
 ken is a cordial. Here is a glass a-piece for you ; 
 it is true natural juice from the grape, none of 
 your damned vintners brewings." Having 
 spoke thus, he presented to each of them another 
 large dry crust, bidding them drink it off, and 
 not be bashful ; for it would do them no hurt. 
 The two brothers, after having performed the u- 
 sual office in such delicate conjunctures, of sta- 
 ring a sufficient period at Lord Peter, and each 
 other; and finding how matters were like to go, 
 resolved not to enter on a new dispute, but let 
 him carry the point as he pleased : for he was 
 now got into one of his mad fits ; and to argue 
 or expostulate further, would only serve to ren- 
 der him a hundred times more untractable. 
 
 I have chosen to relate this worthy matter in 
 all its circumstances, because it gave a principal 
 occasion to that great and famous rupture*, 
 which happened about the same time among 
 these brethren, and was never afterwards made 
 up. But of that I shall treat at large in another 
 section. 
 
 However, it is certain, that Lord Peter, even 
 in his lucid intervals, was very lewdly given in 
 his common conversation, extreme wilful and 
 positive; and would at any time rather argue to 
 
 • By this rupture is meant the Reformation. 
 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 131 
 
 the death, than allow himself once to be in an 
 error. Besides, he had an abominable faculty 
 of telling huge palpable lyes upon all occasions ; 
 and not only swearing to the truth, but cursing 
 the whole company to hell, if they pretended to 
 make the least scruple of believing him. One 
 time he swore he had a cow at home, which gave 
 as much milk at a meal as would fill three thou- 
 sand churches ; and, what was yet more extraor- 
 dinary, would never turn sour # . Another time 
 he was telling of an old signpost^ that belonged 
 to his father, with nails and timber enough in it 
 to build sixteen large men of war. Talking one 
 day of Chinese waggons, which were made so 
 
 light as to sail over mountains : " Z ds," 
 
 said Peter, " where's the wonder of that? By 
 G — , I saw a large house of lime and stone tra- 
 vel over sea and land, granting that it stopped 
 sometimes to bait, above two thousand German 
 leagues;];." And that which was the good of it, 
 
 * The ridiculous multiplying of the virgin Mary's milk 
 amongst the Papists, under the allegory of a cow which 
 gave as much milk at a meal as would fill three thousand 
 churches. W. Wot ton. 
 
 f By this sign-post is meant the cross of our blessed Sa- 
 viours—and if all the wood that is shewn for parts of 
 it, was collected, the quantity would sufficiently justi- 
 fy this sarcasm. Hatches. 
 
 J The chapel of Loretto. He falls here only upon tha 
 
 G 6 
 
132 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 he would swear desperately all the while, that he 
 never told a lye in his life ; and every word, 
 "By G — , Gentlemen, I tell you nothing but 
 
 the truth ; and the d 1 broil them eternally 
 
 that will not believe me." 
 
 In short, Peter grew so scandalous, that all the 
 neighbourhood began in plain words to say, he 
 was no better than a knave. And his two bro- 
 thers, long weary of his ill usage, resolved at last 
 to leave him ; but first they humbly desired a co- 
 py of their father's will, which had now lain by 
 neglected time out of mind. Instead of grant- 
 ing this request, he called them u damned sons 
 of whores, rogues, traitors," and the rest of the 
 vile names he could muster up. However, while 
 he was abroad one day upon his projects, the 
 two youngsters watched their opportunity, made 
 a shift to come at the will, and took a copia ve- 
 ra*; by which they presently saw how grossly 
 
 ridiculous invention of Popery. The church of Rome in- 
 tended by these things to gull silly superstitious people, 
 and rook them out of their money. The world had been 
 too long in slavery; but our ancestors gloriously redeem- 
 ed us from that yoke. The church of Rome therefore 
 ought to be exposed; and he deserves well of mankind, 
 that does expose it. W. Wot Ion. 
 
 Ibid. The chapel of Loretto, which travelled from the 
 Holy Land to Italy. 
 
 * Translated the scriptures into the vulgar tongues. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 13$ 
 
 they had been abused ; their father having left 
 them equal heirs, and strictly commanded, that 
 whatever they got should lie in common among 
 them all. Pursuant to which, their next enter- 
 prise was, to break open the cellar door, and get 
 a little good drink to spirit and comfort their 
 hearts # . In copying the will, they had met an- 
 other precept against whoring, divorce and sepa- 
 rate maintainance : upon which their next 
 work was, to discard their concubines, and send 
 for their wives f. Whilst all this was in agita- 
 tion, there enters a solicitor from Newgate, desi- 
 ring Lord Peter would please to procure a par- 
 don for a thief that was to be hanged to-morrow. 
 But the two brothers told him, he was a coxcomb, 
 to seek pardons from a fellow who deserved to 
 be hanged much better than his client ; and dis- 
 covered all the method of that imposture, in the 
 same form I delivered it a while ago ; advising 
 the solicitor to put his friend upon obtaining a 
 pardon from the kwgf. In the midst of all this 
 clutter and revolution, in comes Peter with a file 
 
 * Administered the cup to the laity at the communion. 
 
 f Allowed the marriages of priests. 
 
 t Directed penitents not to trust to pardons and absolu- 
 tions procured for money; but sent them to implore the 
 mercy of God, from whence alone remission is to be 
 obtained. 
 
134 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 of dragoons at his heels # ; and gathering from 
 all hands what was in the wind, he and his gang, 
 after several millions of scurrilities and curses, 
 not very important here to repeat, by main force 
 very fairly kicks them both out of doors f , and 
 would never let them come under his roof from 
 that day to this. 
 
 SECT. V. 
 
 A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 
 
 WE, whom the world is pleased to honour 
 with the title of modern authors, should never 
 have been able to compass our great design of 
 an everlasting remembrance, and never-dying 
 fame, if our endeavours had not been so highly 
 serviceable to the general good of mankind. 
 
 * By Peter's dragoons is meant the civil power, which 
 those princes, who were bigotted to the Romish supersti- 
 tion, employed against the Reformers.. 
 
 f The Pope shuts all who dissent from him out of 
 the church. 
 
A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 135 
 
 This, Universe! is the adventurous attempt of 
 me thy secretary ; 
 
 ■ Quemvis perferre laborem 
 Suadet, et inducit noctes vigilare serenas. 
 
 To this end, I have some time since, with a 
 world of pains and art, dissected the carcass of 
 human nature, and read many useful lectures up- 
 on the several parts both containing and contain- 
 ed ; till at last it smelt so strong, I could preserve 
 it no longer. Upon which, I have been at a great 
 expence to fit up all the bones with exact con- 
 texture, and in due symmetry ; so that I am rea- 
 dy to shew a very complete anatomy thereof, to 
 all curious u gentlemen and others/'' But, not 
 to digress farther in the midst of a digression, as 
 I have known some authors inclose digressions 
 in one another, like a nest of boxes ; I do affirm, 
 that having carefully cut up human nature, I have 
 found a very strange, new, and important disco- 
 very ; that the public good of mankind is per- 
 formed by two ways, instruction and diversion. 
 And I have farther proved in my said several 
 readings, (which perhaps the world may one day 
 see, if I can prevail on any friend to steal a copy, 
 or on any certain gentlemen of my admirers, to 
 be very importunate), that, as mankind is now 
 disposed, he receives much greater advantage by 
 being diverted than instructed; his epidemical dis- 
 
136 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 eases being fastidiosity, amorphy, and oscitation; 
 whereas, in the present universal empire of wit 
 and learning, there seems but little matter left 
 for instruction. However, in compliance with a 
 lesson of great age and authority, I have at- 
 tempted carrying the point in all its heights ? and 
 accordingly, throughout this divine treatise, have 
 skilfully kneaded up both together, with a layer 
 of utile, and a layer of duke. 
 
 When I consider how exceedingly our illustri- 
 ous moderns have eclipsed the weak glimmering 
 lights of the ancients, and turned them out of the 
 road of all fashionable commerce, to a degree, 
 that our choice town-wits, of most refined accom- 
 plishments, are in grave dispute, whether there 
 have been ever any ancients or no*; in which 
 point we are like to receive wonderful satisfaction 
 from the most useful labours and lucubrations 
 of thai worthy modern, Dr JBentley : I say, when 
 I consider all this, I cannot but bewail, that no 
 famous modern hath ever yet attempted an uni- 
 versal system, in a small portable volume, of all 
 things that are to be known, or believed, or ima- 
 gined, or practised in life. I am however forced 
 
 * The learned person here meant by our author, hath 
 been endeavouring to annihilate so many ancient writers, 
 that, until he is pleased to stop his hand, it will be dange- 
 rous to affirm, whether there have been any ancients in 
 the world. 
 
A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 137 
 
 to acknowledge, that such an enterprise was 
 thought on some time ago, by a great philoso- 
 pher of O. Brazil*. The method, he proposed, 
 was by a certain curious receipt, a nostrum, which, 
 after his untimely death, I found among his pa- 
 pers ; and do here, out of my great affection to 
 the modem learned, present them with it ; not 
 doubting, it may one day encourage some wor- 
 thy undertaker. 
 
 u You take fair correct copies, well bound in 
 calf-skin, and lettered at the back, of all modern 
 bodies of arts and sciences whatsoever, and in 
 what language you please. These you distil in 
 balneo Mariae, infusing quintessence of pop- 
 py q. s. together with three pints of lethe, 
 to be had from the apothecaries. You cleanse 
 away carefully the sordes and caput mortu- 
 um, letting all that is volatile evaporate. You 
 preserve only the first running, which is again to 
 be distilled seventeen times, till what remains 
 will amount to about two drams. This you keep 
 in a glass vial hermetically sealed, for one and 
 twenty days; then you begin your catholic trea- 
 tise, taking every morning fasting, first shaking 
 the vial, three drops of this elixir, snuffing it 
 strongly up your nose. It will dilate itself about 
 
 * This is an imaginary island, of kin to that which 
 is called the Painters wives island, placed in some unknown 
 part of the ocean, merely at the fancy of the map-maker, 
 
138 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the brain (where there is any) in fourteen minu- 
 tes, and you immediately perceive in your head 
 an infinite number of abstracts, summaries, com- 
 pendiums, extracts, collections, medulla's, ex- 
 cerpta quaedam's, florilegia's, and the like, all 
 disposed into great order, and reducible upon 
 paper." 
 
 I must needs own, it was by the assistance of 
 this arcanum, that I, though otherwise impar, 
 have adventured upon so daring an attempt; ne- 
 ver atchieved or undertaken before, but by a cer- 
 tain author, called Homer; in whom, though o- 
 therwise a person not without some abilities, and, 
 for an ancient, of a tolerable genius, I have disco- 
 vered many gross errors, which are not to be for- 
 given his very ashes, if by chance any of them 
 are left. For whereas we are assured, he design- 
 ed his work for a complete body # of all know- 
 ledge, human, divine, political, and mechanic; it 
 is manifest, he hath wholly neglected some, and 
 been very imperfect in the rest. For, first of all, 
 as eminent a cabalist as his disciples would repre- 1 
 sent him, his account of the " opus magnum" is 
 extremely poor and deficient; he seems to have 
 read but very superficially, either Sendivogus, 
 
 * Homerus omnes res humanas poeoaatis complexus est 
 XenopL iu conviv* 
 
 
A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 139 
 
 Behmcn, or AntophrosophiaTheomagica*. He 
 is also quite mistaken about the sphara pyro- 
 plastica, a neglect not to be atoned for ; and, if 
 the reader will admit so severe a censure, vix 
 crederem autorem hunc unquam audivisse ignis 
 vocem. His failings are not less prominent in 
 several parts of the mechanics. For, having 
 read his writings with the utmost application 
 usual among modern zvits, I could never yet dis- 
 cover the least direction about the structure of 
 that useful instrument, a save-all. For want of 
 which, if the moderns had not lent their assis- 
 tance, we might yet have wandered in the dark. 
 But I have still behind a fault, far more notori- 
 ous to tax this author with; I mean, his gross 
 ignorance in the common lazes of this realm, and 
 in the doctrine, as well as discipline of the church 
 of England f: a defect indeed, for which both 
 he and all the ancients stand most justly censur- 
 ed by my worthy and ingenious friend, Mr. 
 
 * A treatise written about fifty years ago, by a Welsh 
 gentleman of Cambridge. His name, as I remember, was 
 Vaughan ; as appears by the answer written to it by the 
 learned Dr Henry Moor. It is a piece of the most unin- 
 telligible fustain, that perhaps was ever published in 
 any language, 
 
 f Mr. Wotton, (to whom our author never gives any 
 any quarter), in his comparison of ancient and modern 
 learning, numbers divinity, law, &c. among those part* 
 ef knowledge wherein we excel the ancients. 
 
140 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Wotton, Bachelor of Divinity, in his incompa- 
 rable treatise of ancient and modern learning ; a 
 book never to be sufficiently valued, whether we 
 consider the happy turns and Sowings of the au- 
 thor's wit, the great usefulness of his sublime 
 discoveries upon the subject of flies and spittle, 
 or the laborious eloquence of his style. And I 
 cannot forbear doing that author the justice of 
 my public acknowledgements, for the great helps 
 and liftings I had out of his incomparable 
 piece, while I was penning this treatise. 
 
 But, besides these omissions in Homer, alrea- 
 dy mentioned, the curious reader will also ob- 
 serve several defects in that author's writings, 
 for which he is not altogether so accountable. 
 For whereas every branch of knowledge has re- 
 ceived such wonderful acquirements since his 
 age, especially within these last three years, or 
 thereabouts; it is almost impossible, he could 
 be so very perfect in modern discoveries, as his 
 advocates pretend. We freely acknowledge 
 him to be the inventor of the compass, of gun- 
 powder, and the circulation of the blood. But I 
 challenge any of his admirers, to shew me in all 
 his writings, a complete account of the spleen. 
 Does he not also leave us wholly to seek in the 
 art of political wagering ? What can be more 
 defective and unsatisfactory, than his long dis- 
 sertation upon tea? And as to his method of 
 
A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 141 
 
 salivation without mercury, so much celebrated 
 of late, it is, to my own knowledge and experi- 
 ence, a thing very little to be relied on. 
 
 It was to supply such momentous defects, 
 that I have been prevailed on, after Jong solici- 
 tation, to take pen in hand; and I dare venture 
 to promise, the judicious reader shall find no- 
 thing neglected here, that can be of use upon 
 any emergency of life. I am confident to have 
 included and exhausted all that human imagina- 
 tion can rise or fall to. Particularly, I recom- 
 mend to the perusal of the learned, certain dis- 
 coveries that are wholly untouched by others; 
 whereof I shall only mention, among a great ma- 
 ny more, My nezo help for smatterers; or, The 
 art of being deep-leamtd, and shallow-read : — A 
 curious invention about mouse traps: — An univer- 
 sal rule of reason; or, Every man his own carver-, 
 together with a most useful engine for catching 
 of owls. All which the judicious reader will find 
 largely treated on in the several parts of this dis- 
 course. 
 
 I hold myself obliged to give as much light as 
 is possible, into the beauties and excellences of 
 what I am writing, because it is become the fa- 
 shion and humour most applauded among the 
 first authors of this polite and learned age, when 
 they would correct the ill-nature, of critical, or 
 inform the ignorance of courteous readers. Be- 
 
142 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 sides, there have been several famous pieces late- 
 ly published, both in verse and prose; wherein, 
 if the writers had not been pleased, out of their 
 great humanity and affection to the public, to 
 give us a nice detail of the sublime and the admi- 
 rable they contain, it is a thousand to one, whe- 
 ther we should ever have discovered one grain 
 of either. For my own particular, I cannot de- 
 ny, that whatever I have said upon this occasion, 
 had been more proper in a preface, and more 
 agreeable to the mode, which usually directs it 
 thither. But I here think fit to lay hold on that 
 great and honourable privilege of being the last 
 writer; I claim an absolute authority in right, 
 as the freshest modern, which gives me a despo- 
 tic power over all authors before me. In the 
 strength of which title, I do utterly disapprove 
 and declare against that pernicious custom, of 
 making the preface a bill of fare to the book. 
 For I have always looked upon it as a high point 
 of indiscretion in monster-mongers, and other re- 
 tailers of strange sights, to hang out a fair large 
 picture over the dopr, drawn after the life, with 
 a most elegant description underneath. This 
 hath saved me many a three-pence; for my cu- 
 riosity was fully satisfied, and I never offered to 
 go in, though often invited by the urging and at- 
 tending orator, with his last moving and stand- 
 ing piece of rhetoric, Sir, upon my word, we am 
 
A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 143 
 
 just going to begin. Such is exactly the fate, at 
 this time, of Prefaces, Epistles, Advertisements^ 
 Introductions, Prolegomena s, Apparatus's, To 
 the readers. This expedient was admirable at 
 first- Our great Dryden has long carried it as 
 far as it would go, and with incredible success. 
 He hath often said to me in confidence, that the 
 world would have never suspected him to be so 
 great a poet, if he had not assured thern so fre- 
 quently in his prefaces, that it was impossible 
 they could either doubt or forget it. Perhaps 
 it may be so: however, I much fear, his in- 
 structions have edified out of their place, and 
 taught men to grow wiser in certain points, 
 where he never intended they should:, for it is 
 lamentable to behold; with what a lazy scorn 
 many of the yawning readers of our age do now r - 
 a-days twirl over forty or fifty pages of preface 
 and dedication, (which is the usual modern stint), 
 as if it were so much Latin. Though it must 
 be also allowed, on the other hand, that a 
 very considerable number is known to proceed 
 critics and wits, by reading nothing else. Into 
 which two factions, I think, all present readers 
 may justly be divided. Now, for myself, I pro- 
 fess to be of the former sort : and therefore ha- 
 ting the modern inclination to expatiate upon 
 the beauty of my own productions, and display 
 the bright parts of my discourse, I thought be*t 
 
144 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 to do it in the body of the work; where, as it 
 now lies, it makes a very considerable addition 
 to the bulk of the volume ; a circumstance by no 
 means to be neglecttd by a skilful writer. 
 
 Having thus paid my due deference and ac- 
 knowledgement to an established custom of our 
 newest authors, by a long digression unsought for, 
 and an universal censure unprovoked; by forcing 
 into the light, with much pains and dexterity, 
 my own excellencies, and other men's defaults, 
 with great justice to myself, and candour to 
 them; I now happily resume my subject, to the 
 infinite satisfaction both of the reader and the 
 author. 
 
 SECT. VI. 
 A TALE OF A TUB, 
 
 WE left Lord Peter in open rupture with his 
 two brethren ; both for ever discarded from his 
 house, and resigned to the wide world, with lit- 
 tle or nothing to trust to. Which are circum- 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 145 
 
 stances that render them proper subjects for the 
 charity of a writer's pen to work on; scenes of 
 misery ever affording the fairest harvest for great 
 adventures. And in this the world may perceive 
 the difference between the integrity of a gene- 
 rous author, and that of a common friend. The 
 latter is observed to adhere close in prosperity, 
 but, on the decline of fortune, to drop suddenly 
 off: whereas the generous author, just on the 
 contrary, finds his hero on the dunghill, from 
 thence by gradual steps raises him to a throne, 
 and then immediately withdraws, expecting not 
 so much as thanks for his pains. In imitation 
 of which example, I have placed Lord Peter in. ,« 
 
 a noble house, given him a title to wear, and *% 
 
 money to spend. There I shall leave him for 
 some time; returning where common charity /f 
 
 directs me, to the assistance of his two brothers 
 at their lowest ebb. However, I shall bf nu 
 means forget my character of an historian, to 
 follow the truth step by step, whatever happens; 1 , 
 or where-ever it may lead me. 
 
 The two exiles, so nearly united in fortune 
 and interest, took a lodging together; where, 
 their first leisure, they began to reflect on the 
 numberless misfortunes and vexations of their 
 life past; and could not tell, on the sudden, to 
 what failure in their conduct they ought to im- 
 pute them ; when, after some recollection, they 
 
 H 
 
146 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 called to mind the copy of their father's roil/, 
 which they had so happily recovered. This was 
 immediately produced, and a firm resolution 
 taken between them, to alter whatever was al- 
 ready amiss, and reduce all their future measures 
 to the strictest obedience prescribed therein. 
 The main body of the will, (as the reader can- 
 not easily have forgot) consisted in certain ad- 
 mirable rules about the wearing of their coats: 
 in the perusal whereof, the two brothers at eve- 
 ry period duly comparing the doctrine with the 
 practice, there was never seen a wider difference 
 between two things ; horrible, downright trans- 
 gressions of every point. Upon which they 
 both resolved, without further delay, to fall im- 
 mediately upon reducing the whole exactly af- 
 ter their father's model. * 
 
 But here it is good to stop the hasty reader, 
 ever impatient to see the end of an adventure, 
 before we writers can duly prepare him for it. 
 I am to record, that these two brothers began 
 to be distinguished at this time by certain 
 names. One of them desired to be called MAR- 
 TIN # , and the other took the appellation of 
 JACKf . These two had lived in much friend- 
 ship and agreement, under the tyranny of their 
 brother Peter; as it is the talent of fellow suffer- 
 
 * Martin Luther. f John Calvin. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 147 
 
 in misfortune being like men in the 
 dark, to whom all colours are the same. But 
 when they came forward into the world, and be- 
 gan to display themselves to each other, and to 
 the light, their complexions appeared extremely 
 different; which the present posture of their af- 
 fairs gave them sudden opportunity to dis~ 
 cover. 
 
 But here the severe reader may justly tax me 
 as a writer of short memory; a deficiency to 
 which a true modern cannot but, of necessity, be 
 a little subject: because memory being an em- 
 ployment of the mind upon things past, is a fa- 
 culty, for which the learned in our' illustrious 
 age have no manner of occasion, who deal en- 
 tirely with invention, and strike all things out of 
 themselves, or at least by collision from each o- 
 ther; upon which account we think it highly 
 reasonable to produce our great forgetfulness, 
 as an argument unanswerable for our great wit. 
 I ought, in method, to have informed the reader 
 about fifty pages ago, of a fancy Lord Peter 
 took, and infused into his brothers, to wear on 
 their coats whatever trimmings came up in fa- 
 shion; never pulling off any as they went out of 
 the mode, but keeping on all together; which a* 
 mounted in time to a medley, the most antic 
 yon can possibly conceive: and this to a degree, 
 that, upon the time of their falling out, there 
 h 2 
 
148 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 was hardly a thread of the original coat to be 
 seen; but an infinite quantity of lace, and rib- 
 bands, and fringe, and embroidery, and points; 
 ([ mean only those tagged with silver*, -for the 
 rest fell off). Now, this material circumstance 
 having been forgot in due place; as good for- 
 tune hath ordered, comes in very properly here, 
 when the two brothers are just going to reform 
 their vestures into the primitive state, prescribed 
 by their father's will. 
 
 They both unanimously entered upon this 
 great work, looking sometimes on their coats, 
 and sometimes on the will, Martin laid the 
 first hand; at one twitch brought off a large 
 handful of points', and, with a second pull, strip- 
 ped away ten dozen yard^ of fringe. But when 
 he had gone thus far, he demurred a while. He 
 knew very well, there yet remained a great deal 
 more to be done. However, the first heat being 
 over, his violence began to cool, and he resolved 
 to proceed more moderately i n the rest of the work ; 
 having already very narrowly escaped a swing- 
 ing rent in pulling off the points, which, being 
 tagged with silver, (as we have observed before), 
 the judicious workman had with much sagacity 
 
 * Points tagged with silver, or those doctrines that pro- 
 mote the greatness and wealth of the church, which have 
 been therefore woven deepest in the body of Popery. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 149 
 
 double sown, to preserve them from falling. 
 Resolving therefore to rid his coat of a huge 
 quantity olgo/d lace, he picked up the stitches 
 with much caution, and diligently gleaned out 
 all the loose threads as he went; which proved 
 to be a work of time. Then he fell about the 
 embroidered Indian figures of men, women, and 
 children; against which, as you have heard in 
 its due place, their father's testament was ex- 
 tremely exact and severe: these, with much 
 dexterity and application, were, after a while, 
 quite eradicated, or utterly defaced. For the 
 rest, where he observed the embroidery to be 
 worked so close, as not to be got away without 
 damaging the cloth, or where it served to hide 
 or strengthen any flaw in the body of the coat, 
 contracted by the perpetual tampering of work- 
 men upon it; he concluded, the w 7 isest course 
 was, to let it remain; resolving in no case what- 
 soever, that the substance of the stuff should 
 suffer injury; which he thought the best method 
 for serving the true intent and meaning of his 
 father's will. And this is the nearest account I 
 have been able to collect of Martin's proceed 
 ings upon this great revolution *.. 
 
 * The criticisms of the Martinists (whom we may suppose 
 the members of the church. of England) were, it is to be 
 Hoped, more candid than those contained in the following 
 $ote ; for Martin is treated with a muuh less degree of sar- 
 
 St 3 
 
150 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 '■■■ '"' ". ' . " ' . ' " " ' . ' ' " ** * "" * " '"' " " * * ■ '• 
 
 But his brother Jack*, whose adventures will 
 be so extraordinary as to furnish a great part in 
 the remainder of this discourse, entered upon 
 the matter with other thoughts, and a quite dif- 
 
 casm than the other two brothers.— The church of En- 
 gland can scarce be angry at such a favourable account of 
 Luther; especially as we have since reformed from Luthe: 
 himself; and, so far as our judgements can teach us, hav 
 restored our habits still nearer to the original fashion, 
 which they bore at the perfection of the testament. 
 
 Orrery. 
 * In the character of Jack, a set of people were alarmed, 
 who are easily offended, and who can scarce bear the chear- 
 fulness of a smile. In their dictionary, wit is only ano- 
 ther name for wickedness; and the purer or more excellent 
 the wit, the greater and more impious the abomination. 
 However wide, therefore, the difference of Peter and Jack 
 might have been in fashioning their coats, the two bro- 
 thers most sincerely agreed in their hatred of an adversary 
 so powerful as this anonymous author. They spared no 
 unmannerly reflections up©n his character. They had re- 
 course to every kind of abuse that could reach him. And 
 sometimes it was the work of Swift and his companions : 
 sometimes not a syllable of it was his work ; it was the 
 work of one of his uncle's sons, a clergyman; and some- 
 times it was the work of a person who was to be nameless. 
 Each of these malicious conjectures reigned in its turn : 
 and it will be found, that bold assertions, however false, 
 almost constantly meet with success; a kind of triumph 
 that would appear one of the severest institutes of fate, if 
 time and truth did not soon obliterate all marks of the vic- 
 tory, Orrery. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 j I 
 
 £— — " ■■ ■ . . ... . — ,... ... ,-- • ~-g 
 
 ferent spirit. For the memory of Lord Peter's 
 injuries produced a degree of hatred and spite, 
 which iiad a much greater share of inciting him, 
 than any regards after his father's commands; 
 since these appeared at best only secondary and 
 subservient to the other. However, for this 
 medley of humour he made a shift to fiad a very- 
 plausible name, honouring it with the title of 
 zealj which is perhaps the most significant word 
 that hath been ever yet produced in any lan- 
 guage; as, I think, I have fully proved in my 
 excellent analytical discourse upon that subject; 
 wherein I have deduced a histori-theo-phisi-logical 
 account of zeal, shewing how it first proceeded 
 from a notion into a word, and from thence, in a 
 hot summer, ripened into a tangible substance. 
 This work, containing three large volumes in fo- 
 lio, I design very shortly to publish by the mo- 
 dern way o£ subscription ; not doubting but the 
 nobility and gentry of the land will give me all 
 possible encouragement, having had already 
 such a taste of what I am able to perform. 
 
 I record, therefore, that brother Jack, brim- 
 full of this miraculous compound, reflecting with 
 indignation upon Peter's tyranny, and farther 
 provoked by the despondency of Martin, prefa- 
 ced his resolutions to this purpose. What, said . 
 he, a rogue that locked up his drink, turned- away 
 our wives, cheated us of our fortunes, palmed his 
 
 h 4 
 
152 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 damned crusts upon us for mutton, and at last 
 kicked us out of doors; must we be in his fashions, 
 with a pox! a rascal, besides, that all the street 
 cries out against. Having thus kindled and in- 
 flamed himself as high as possible, and by con- 
 sequence in a delicate temper for beginning a 
 reformation, he set about the work immediately, 
 and in three minutes made more dispatch than 
 Martin had done in as many hours. For, cour- 
 teous reader, you are given to understand, that 
 zeal is never so highly obliged, as when you set 
 it a tearing', and Jack, who doted on that quali- 
 ty in himself, allowed it at this time its full 
 swing. Thus it happened, that stripping down 
 a parcel of gold lace, a little too hastily, he rent 
 the main body of his coat from top to bottom; 
 and whereas his talent was not of the happiest 
 in taking up a stitch, he knew no better way, than 
 to darn it again with pack-thread and a skewer. 
 But the matter was yet infinitely worse (I record 
 it with tears) when he proceeded to the embroi- 
 dery : for, being clumsy by nature, and of tem- 
 per impatient ; withal, beholding millions of 
 stitches that required the nicest hand, and seda- 
 test constitution, to extricate; in a great rage 
 he tore off the whole piece, cloth and all, and 
 flung it into the kennel, and furiously thus con- 
 tinued his career: Ah, good brother Martin, said 
 he, do as I do, for the love of God; strip, tear, 
 
 
A TA27E OF A TUB. 353 
 
 pull, rend, flay off all, that we may appear as un- 
 like the rogue Peter, as it is possible. I would 
 not, for an hundred pounds, carry the least mark 
 about me, that might give occasion to the neigh- 
 bours, of suspecting I was related to such a rascal. 
 But Martin, who at this time happened to be ex* 
 trernely flegmatic and sedate, begged his brother, 
 of all love, not to damage his coat bij any means; 
 for he never would, get such another: desired him 
 to consider, that it w>as not their business to form 
 their actions by any reflection upon Peter, but by 
 observing the rules prescribed in their father's will: 
 that he should remember, Peter zvas still their 
 brother, whatever faults or injuries he had commits 
 ted ; and therefore they should by all means avoid 
 such a thought, as that of taking measures for good 
 and evil, from no other rule than of opposition to 
 him: that it was true, the testament of their good 
 father was very exact in zohat related to the zoear- 
 ing of their coats ; yet was it no less penal and 
 strict in prescribing agreement, and friendship, 
 and affection between them; and therefore, if 
 straining a point were at all dispensable, it would 
 certainly be so, rather to the advance of unity > , 
 than increase of contradiction* 
 
 Martin had still proceeded as gravely as he 
 began; and doubtless would have delivered an 
 admirable lecture of morality, which might have 
 exceedingly contributed to my reader's repose, 
 
 H 5 
 
154 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 both of body and mind, the true ultimate end of 
 ethics; but Jack was already gone a flight-shot 
 beyond his patience. And as, in scholastic dis- 
 putes, nothing serves to rouse the spleen of him 
 that opposes, so much as a kind of pedantic affect- 
 ed calmness in the respondent ; disputants being 
 for the most part like unequal scales, where the 
 gravity of one side advances the lightness of the 
 other, and causes it to fly up, and kick the beam : 
 so it happened here, that the weight of Martin's 
 arguments exalted Jack's levity, and made him 
 fly out and spurn against his brother's modera- 
 tion. In short, Martin's patience put Jack in a 
 rage. But that which most afflicted him, was, 
 to observe his brother's coat so well reduced in- 
 to the state of innocence; while his own was ei- 
 ther wholly rent to his shirt; or those places,, 
 which had escaped his cruel clutches, were still 
 in Peter's livery : so that he looked like a drun- 
 ken beau, half rifled by bullies; or like a fresh 
 tenant in Newgate, when he has refused the 
 payment of garnish; or like a discovered shop- 
 lifter, left to the mercy of Exchange women* ; 
 
 * The galleries over the piazzas in the Royal Exchange, 
 were formerly filled with shops, kept chiefly by women. 
 The same use was made of a building called the New Ex- 
 change in the strand. This edifice has been pulled down; 
 the shopkeepers have removed from the Royal Exchange 
 into Cornhill, and . the adjacent streets; and there are 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 155 
 
 - ... • ■ - .. . .. 1 . . ■ •-^. .^ -.. . : ===:s 
 
 or like a bawd in her old velvet petticoat, resign- 
 ed into the secular hands of the mobile. Like 
 any, or like all of these, a medley of rags-, and 
 lace, and rents, and fringes, unfortunate Jack did 
 now appear- He would have been extremely 
 glad to see his coat in the condition of Martin's, 
 but infinitely gladder to find that of Martin in 
 the same predicament with his. However, since 
 neither of these was likely to come to pass, he 
 thoughtfit to lend the whole business another turn, 
 and to dress up necessity^ into a virtue. There- 
 fore, after as many of the fox's arguments* as 
 he could muster up, for bringing Martin to rea- 
 son, as he called it, or, as he meant it, into his 
 own ragged, bob-tailed condition; and observ- 
 ing he said all to little purpose; what, alas! was 
 left for the forlorn Jack to do, but, after a mil- 
 lion of scurrilities against his brother, to run 
 mad with spleen, and spite, and contradiction? 
 To be short, here began a mortal breach between 
 these two. Jack went immediately to new lodg- 
 ings, and in a few days it was for certain report- 
 now no remains of Exchange women, hut in Exeter 'change, 
 and they are no longer, deemed the first ministers of fa- 
 shion. Hawkes. 
 
 * The fox in the fable, who having been caught in a 
 trap, and lost his tail, used many arguments to persuade 
 the rest to cut off theirs; that the singularity of his defor-- 
 mity might not expose him to derision, Hawkes. 
 hl6 
 
1.56 A TALE OF A TUB/ 
 
 ed, that he had run out of his wits. In a short 
 time after, he appeared abroad, and confirmed 
 the report by falling into the oddest whimsies 
 that ever a sick brain conceived. 
 
 And now the little boys in the streets began 
 to salute him with several names. Sometimes 
 they would call him Jack the bald* ; sometimes, 
 Jack with the lanthorn f ; sometimes, Dutch 
 Jack J; sometimes, French Hngh§; sometimes, 
 Tom the Beggar || ; and sometimes, Knocking 
 Jack of the North ^f. And it was under one, or 
 some, or all of these appellations, which I leave 
 the learned reader to determine, that he hath gi- 
 ven rise to the most illustrious and epidemic 
 sect of jEolists, who, with honourable commemo- 
 ration, do still acknowledge the renowned 
 JACK for their author and founder. Of whose 
 original, as well as principles, I am now advan- 
 cing to gratify the world with a very particular 
 account. 
 
 -Melleo contingens cuncta lepore* 
 
 * That is, Calvin; from callus, bald. 
 f All those who pretend to inward light 
 J Jack of Leyden, who gave rise to the Anabaptists. 
 § The Hugonots. 
 
 J| The Guenses, by which name some Protestants in 
 Flanders were called. 
 f John Knox the reformer of Scotland, 
 
! 
 
 DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 1ST 
 
 SECT. VII. 
 A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS 
 
 I have sometimes heard of an Iliad in a nut- 
 shell; but it hath been my fortune to have much 
 oftner seen a nutshell in an Iliad. There is no 
 doubt that human life has received most won- 
 derful advantages from both; but to which of 
 the two the world is chiefly indebted, I shall 
 leave among the curious, as a problem worthy of 
 their utmost inquiry. For the invention of the 
 latter, I think the commonwealth of learning is 
 chiefly obliged to the great modern improve- 
 ment of digressions: the late refinements in 
 knowledge running parallel to those of diet in 
 our nation, which, among men of a judicious 
 taste, are dressed up in various compounds, con* 
 sisting in soups and olio's, fricassees and ragousts. 
 
 It is true, there is a sort of morose, detract- 
 ing, ill-bred people, who pretend utterly to dis- 
 relish these polite innovations. And as to the 
 similitude from diet, they allow the parallel; but 
 
158 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 are so bold to pronounce the example itself, a 
 corruption and degeneracy of taste. They tell 
 us, that the fashion of jumbling fifty things to- 
 gether in a dish, was at first introduced in com- 
 pliance to a depraved and debauched appetite, as 
 well as to a crazy constitution : and to see am i 
 hunting through an olio after the head and brains 
 of a goose, a widgeon, or a woodcock, is a sign he 
 wants a stomach and digestion for more substan- 
 tial victuals. Farther they affirm, that digres- 
 sions in a book are like foreign troops in a state, 
 which argue the nation to want a heart and 
 hands of its own; and often either subdue the 
 natives, or drive them into the most unfruitful 
 corners. 
 
 But, after ail that can be objected by these 
 supercilious censors, it is manifest, the society 
 of writers would quickly be reduced to a very 
 inconsiderable number, if men were put upon 
 making books, with the fatal confinement of de- 
 livering nothing beyond what is to the purpose. 
 It is acknowledged, that were the case the same 
 among us as with the Greeks and Romans, 
 when learning was in its cradle, to be reared,, 
 and fed, and clothed by invention •, it would be 
 an easy task to fill up volumes upon particular 
 occasions, without farther expatiating from the 
 subject, than by moderate excursions, helping 
 to advance or clear the main design. But with*. 
 
DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 159 
 
 knowledge it has fared as with a numerous army, 
 encamped in a fruitful country; which for a few 
 days maintains itself by the product of the soil 
 it is on; till, provisions being spent, they are 
 sent to forage many a mile, among friends or 
 enemies, ii>rnatters not. Mean while, the neigh- 
 bouring fields, trampled and beaten down, be- 
 come barren and dry, affording no sustenance 
 hut clouds of dust. 
 
 The whole course of things being thus entire- 
 ly changed between us and the ancients, and the 
 moderns wisely sensible of it; we of this age 
 have discovered a shorter, and a more prudent 
 method, to become scholars and wits, without 
 the fatigue of reading and thinking. The most 
 accomplished w 7 ay of using books at present, is 
 twofold: either, first, to serve them as some 
 men do lords, learn their titles exactly, and then 
 brag of their acquaintance; or, secondly, which 
 is indeed the choicer, the profounder, and poli- 
 ter method, to get a thorough insight into the 
 index, by which the whole book is governed and 
 turned, like fishes by the tail. For to enter the 
 palace of learning at the great gate, requires an 
 expence of time and forms; therefore men of 
 much haste and little ceremony are content to 
 get in by the back-door. For the arts are all in 
 a flying march, and therefore more easily subdu- 
 ed by attacking them in the rear. Thus physi- 
 
160 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 cians discover the state of the whole body, by 
 consulting only what comes from behind. Thus 
 men catch knowledge by throwing their wit on 
 the posteriors of a book, as boys do sparrows by 
 flinging salt upon their tails. Thus human life 
 is best understood by the wise man's rule of re- 
 garding the end. Thus are the sciences found, 
 like Hercules's oxen, by tracing them backwards. 
 Thus are old sciences unravelled like old stockings 
 by beginning at the foot. 
 
 Besides all this, the army of the sciences hath 
 been of late, with a world of martial discipline, 
 drawn into its close order, so that a view, or a 
 muster may be taken of it with abundance of 
 expedition. For this great blessing we are whol- 
 ly indebted to syflems and abstracts, in which the 
 modern fathers of learning, like prudent usurers, 
 spent their sweat for the ease of us their chil- 
 dren.. For labour is the seed of idleness, and k 
 is the peculiar happiness of our noble age to ga- 
 ther the fruit. 
 
 Now, the method of growing wise, learned, 
 and sublime, having become so regular an affair, 
 and so established in all its forms; the number 
 of writers must needs nave increased according- 
 ly, and to a pitch that has made it of absolute 
 necessity for them to interfere continually with 
 each other. Besides, it is reckoned, that there 
 is not at this present a sufficient quantity of 
 
DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. I6i 
 
 new matter left in nature, to furnish and adorn 
 any one particular subject to the extent of a vo- 
 lume. This I am told by a very skilful compu- 
 ter, who hath given a full demonstration of it 
 from the rules of arithmetic. 
 
 This perhaps may be objected against by 
 those who maintain the infinity of matter, and 
 therefore will not allow that any species of it can 
 be exhausted. For answer to which, let us exa- 
 mine the noblest branch of modern wit or inven- 
 tion, planted and cultivated by the present age; 
 and which of all others hath borne the most, and 
 the fairest fruit. For though some remains of 
 it were left us b}' the ancients, yet have not any 
 of those, as I remember, been translated, or 
 compiled into systems for modern use. There- 
 fore we may affirm, to our own honour, that it 
 hath, in some sort, been both invented, and 
 brought to a perfection by the same hands. 
 What I mean, is that highly celebrated talent a- 
 mong the modern wits, of deducing similitudes, 
 allusions, and applications, very surprising, a- 
 greeable, and apposite, from the pudenda of ei- 
 ther sex, together with their proper uses. And 
 truly, having observed how little invention 
 bears any vogue, besides what is derived into 
 these channels, I have sometimes had a thought, 
 that the happy genius of our age and country 
 was prophetically held forth by that ancient ty- 
 
162 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 pical description of the Indian pygmies ; whose 
 stature did not exceed above two feet ; sed quorum 
 pudenda crassa, et ad talos usque pertingentia # 
 Now, I have been very curious to inspect the 
 late productions, wherein the beauties of this 
 kind have most prominently appeared. And al- 
 though this vein hath bled so freely, and all en- 
 deavours have been used in the power of human 
 breath, to dilate, extend, and keep it open; like 
 the Scythians, who had a custom^ and an instru- 
 ment, to blow up the privities of their mares, that 
 they might yield the more milkf; yet I am under 
 an apprehension, it is near growing dry, and , 
 past all recovery; and that either some new 
 fonde of wit should, if possible, be provided, or 
 else that we must e'en be content with repeti- 
 tion here, as well as upon all other occasions. 
 
 This will stand as an incontestable argument, 
 that our modern wits are not to reckon upon the 
 infinity of matter, for a constant supply. What 
 remains therefore, but that our last recourse 
 must be had to large indexes, and little compendia 
 urns? Quotations must be plentifully gathered, 
 and booked in alphabet. To this end, though 
 authors need be little consulted, yet critics, and 
 commentators, and lexicons, carefully must. But 
 above all, those judicious collectors of bright 
 
 * C testa fragm*. apud Photium. f Herodot. 1, 4. 
 
DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 163 
 
 [ ^ 
 
 parts, and flowers, and observandas, are to be 
 nicely dwelt on, by some called the sieves and 
 boulters of learning; though it is left uudeter- 
 j mined, whether they dealt in pearls or meal; 
 and consequently, whether we are more to va- 
 lue that which passed through, or what staid be- 
 hind. 
 
 By these methods, in a few weeks, there starts 
 up many a writer, capable of managing the pro- 
 foundest, and most universal subjects. For 
 what though his head be empty, provided his 
 common-place book be full? And if you will bate 
 him but the circumstances of method, and style, 
 and grammar, and invention-, allow him but the 
 common privileges of transcribing from others, 
 and digressing from himself, as often as he shall 
 see occasion; he will desire no more ingredients 
 towards fitting up a treatise, that shall make a 
 very comely figure on a bookseller's shelf, there 
 to be preserved neat and clean for a long eterni- 
 ty, adorned with the heraldry of its title fairly 
 inscribed on a label; never to be thumbed or 
 greased by students, nor bound to everlasting 
 chains of darkness in a library; but when the 
 fulness of time is come, shall happily undergo 
 the trial of purgatory, in order to ascend the 
 sky. 
 
 Without these allowances, how is it possible 
 we modern wits should ever have aa opportunity 
 
164 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 to introduce our collections, listed under so ma- 
 ny thousand heads of a different nature? for 
 want of which, the learned world would be de- 
 prived of infinite delight, as well as instruction; 
 and we ourselves buried, beyond redress, in an 
 inglorious and undistinguished oblivion. 
 
 From such elements as these, I am alive to 
 behold the day, wherein the corporation of au- 
 thors can outvie all its brethren in the guild: a 
 happiness derived to us with a great many o- 
 thers, from our Scythian ancestors; among whom* 
 the number of pens was so infinite, that the Gre- 
 cian eloquence had no other way of expressing 
 it, than by saying, that in the region far to the 
 North, it was hardly possible for a man to travel, 
 the vert/ air was so replete xmth feathers # . 
 
 The necessity of this digression will easily ex- 
 cuse the length; and I have chosen for it as 
 proper a place as I could readily find. If the 
 judicious reader can assign a fitter, I do here 
 impower him to remove it into any other corner 
 he pleases. And so I return, with great alacri- 
 ty, to pursue a more important concern. 
 
 * Herodot. 1. 4. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 16g 
 
 SECT. VIII. 
 
 A TAXE OF A TUB. 
 
 THE learned iEolists* maintain the original 
 cause of all things to be wind, from which prin- 
 ciple this whole universe was at first produced, 
 and into which it must at last be resolved; that 
 the same breath which had kindled, and blew 
 up the flame of nature, should one day blow it 
 out: 
 
 Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna ^ubernans. 
 
 This is what the adepti understand by their a- 
 
 nima mundi; that is to say, the spirit, or breath, 
 
 or wind of the world. For examine the whole 
 
 I system by the particulars of nature, and you will 
 
 find it not to be disputed. For whether you 
 
 S please to call the forma informans of man, by 
 the name of spirit us, animus, afflatus, or anima\ 
 
 * All pretenders to inspiration whatsoever. 
 
166 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 what are all these but several appellations for 
 wind® which is the ruling element in every com- 
 pound, and into which they all resolve upon 
 their corruption Farther, what is life itself, 
 but, as it is commonly called, the breath of our 
 nostril? Whence it is very justly observed by 
 naturalists, that wind still continues of great e- 
 molument in certain mysteries not to be named, 
 giving occasion for those happy epithets of tur- 
 gidus, and inflatus, applied either to the emittent 
 or recipient organs. 
 
 By what I have gathered out of ancient re- 
 cords, I find the compass of their doctrine took 
 in two and thirty points, wherein it would be te- 
 dious to be very particular. However, a few of 
 their most important precepts, deducible from 
 it, are by no means to be omitted; among which 
 the following maxim was of much weight. That 
 since wind had the master-share, as well as ope- 
 ration in every compound, by consequence those 
 beings must be of chief excellence, wherein that 
 primordwm appears most prominently to abound; 
 and therefore man is in highest perfection of all 
 created things, as having, by the great bounty 
 of philosophers, been endued with three distinct 
 anima's or winds, to which the sage iEolists, with 
 much liberality, have added a fourth, of equal 
 necessity, as well as ornament, with the other 
 three;- by this quartum principium, taking in our 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 1 67 
 
 four corners of the world; which gave occasion 
 for that renowned cabalist, Bumbastus*, of pla- 
 cing the body of men in due position to the four 
 cardinal points. 
 
 In consequence of this, their next principle 
 was, that man brings with him into the world a 
 peculiar portion or grain of wind, which may be 
 called a quinta essentia, extracted from the other 
 four. This quintessence is of a catholic use upon 
 all emergencies of life, is improvable into all arts 
 and sciences, and may be wonderfully refined, as 
 well as enlarged, by certain methods in educa- 
 tion. This, when blown up to its perfection, 
 ought not to be covetously hoarded up, stifled, 
 or hid under a bushel, but freely communicated 
 to mankind. Upon these reasons, and others of 
 equal weight, the wise JEolists affirm the gift of 
 BELCH IN G to be the noblest act of a rational 
 creature. To cultivate which art, and render it 
 more serviceable to mankind, they made use of 
 several methods. At certain seasons of the 
 year, you might behold the priests among them 
 in vast numbers, with their mouths gaping zeide 
 enough against a stormy. > At other times were 
 to be seen several hundred linked together in a 
 
 * This is one of the names of Paracelsus. He was called 
 Christopborus Theophrastus Paracelsus Bumbastus. 
 
 t This is meant of those seditious preachers, who blow 
 up the seeds of rebellion, &c. 
 
168 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 circular chain, with every man a pair of bellows 
 applied to his neighbour's breech, by which 
 they blew up each other to the shape and size of 
 a tun; and for that reason, with great propriety 
 of speech, did usually call their bodies their ves- \ 
 sels. When, by these and the like performances, ! 
 they were grown sufficiently replete, they would j 
 immediately depart, and disembogue, for the 
 public good, a plentiful share of their acquire- 
 ments into their disciples chaps. For we must 
 here observe, that all learning was esteemed a- 
 mong them to be compounded from the same 
 principle : because, first, it is generally affirmed, 
 or confessed, that learning puffeth men up: And, 
 secondly, they proved it by the following syllo- 
 gism: Words are but wind, and learning is no- 
 thing but words; ergo, learning is nothing but 
 wind. For this reason, the philosophers among 
 them did, in their schools, deliver to their pu- 
 pils, all their doctrines and opinions by eructa- 
 tion, wherein they had acquired a wonderful e- 
 loquence, and of incredible variety. But the 
 great characteristic by which their chief sages 
 were best distinguished, was a certain position 
 of countenance, which gave undoubted intelli- 
 gence to what degree or proportion the spirit a- 
 gitated the inward mass. For, after certain gri- 
 pings, the wind and vapours issuing forth; hav- 
 ing first, by their turbulence and convulsions 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 169 
 
 within, caused an earthquake in man's little 
 world; distorted the mouth, bloated the cheeks, 
 and gave the eyes a terrible kind of relievo. At 
 which junctures, all their belches were received 
 for sacred, the sourer the better, and swallowed 
 with infinite consolation by their meagre devo- 
 tees, And to render these yet more complete; 
 because the breath of man's life is in his nos- 
 trils, therefore the choicest, most edifying, and 
 most enlivening belches, were very wisely con- 
 veyed through that vehicle, to give them a tinc- 
 ture as they passed. 
 
 Their gods were the four winds, whom they 
 worshipped y as the spirits that pervade and enli- 
 ven the universe, and as those from whom alone 
 all inspiration can properly be said to proceed. 
 However, the chief of these, to whom they per- 
 formed the adoration of latria*, was the almigh- 
 ty North: an ancient deity, whom the inhabi- 
 tants of Megalopolis, in Greece, had likewise in 
 the highest reverence: Omnium deorum Boream 
 maxime celebrant f. This god, though endued 
 with ubiquity, was yet supposed by the profoun- 
 der iEolists to possess one peculiar habitation, 
 or (to speak in form) a cesium emipyr&um, where- 
 in he was more intimately present. This was si- 
 
 * Latvia is that worship which is paid only to the 8u 
 preme Deity. Hawkes. 
 f Pausan. 1. 8. 
 
170 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 tuated in a certain region, well known to the 
 ancient Greeks, by them called zxotU, or. the 
 land of darkness. And although many contro- 
 versies have arisen upon that matter; yet so 
 much is undisputed, that, from a region of the 
 like denomination , the most refined iEolists have 
 borrowed their original; from whence, in every 
 age, the zealous among their priesthood have 
 brought over their choicest inspiration, fetching 
 it with their own hands from the fountain head, 
 in certain bladders, and disploding it among the 
 sectaries in all nations; who did, and do, and 
 ever will, daily gasp and pant after it. 
 
 Now, their mysteries and rites wer£ performed 
 in this manner. It is well known among the 
 learned, that the virtuoso's of former ages had a 
 contrivance for carrying and preserving winds in 
 casks or barrels, which was of great assistance 
 upon long sea-voyages; and the loss of so useful 
 an art at present is very much to be lamentec 
 although, I know not how, with great negli- 
 gence omitted by Pancirollus # . It was an ir 
 vention ascribed to JEolus himself, from whor 
 this sect is denominated; and who, in honour of 
 their founder's memory, have to this day preser- 
 ved great numbers of those barrels, whereof they 
 
 * An author who writ de artibus perditis, &c. of arts 
 1 ost, and of arts invented. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 171 
 
 fix one in each of their temples, first beating out 
 the top. Into this barrel, upon solemn days, 
 the priest enters; where, having before duly pre- 
 pared himself by the methods already described, 
 a secret funnel is also conveyed from his poste- 
 riors to the bottom of the barrel, which admits 
 new supplies of inspiration from a northern chink 
 or crany. Whereupon you behold him swell 
 immediately to the shape and size of his vessel. 
 In this posture he disembogues whole tempests 
 upon his auditory, as the spirit from beneath 
 gives him utterance, which, issuing ex adytis etpe- 
 netralibus, is not perfqrmed without much pain 
 and gri pings. And the wind, in breaking forth, 
 deals with his face as it does with that of the 
 sea; first blackening, then wrinkling, and at last 
 bursting it into a foam*. It is ki this guise the 
 sacred JEolist delivers his oraculor belches to his 
 panting disciples; of whom some are greedily 
 gaping after the sanctified breath; others are all 
 the while hymning out the praises of the winds-, 
 and, gently wafted to and fro by their own hum- 
 ming, do thus represent the soft breezes of their 
 deities appeased. 
 
 It is from this custom of the priests, that some 
 authors maintain these JEolists to have been ve- 
 
 * This is an exact description of the changes made in 
 the face by enthusiastic preachers. 
 
 l 2 
 
I 
 
 17'2 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 ry ancient in the world; because the delivery of 
 their mysteries, which I have just now mention- 
 ed, appears exactly the same with that of other 
 ancient oracles, whose inspirations were owing 
 to certain subterraneous effluviums of wind, deli- 
 vered with the same pain to the priest, and much 
 about the same influence on the people. It is 
 true indeed, that these were frequently managed 
 and directed by female officers, whose organs 
 were understood to be better disposed for the ad- 
 mission of those oracular gusts, as entering an 
 parsing up through a receptacle of greater capa- 
 city, and causing also a pruriency by the way, 
 such as, with due management, hath been refi- 
 ned from carnal into a spiritual ecstacy. And, 
 to strengthen this profound conjecture, it is far- 
 ther insisted, that this custom of female priests* 
 is kept up still in certain refined colleges of our 
 modern iEolists, who are agreed to receive their 
 inspiration, derived through the receptacle afore- 
 said, like their ancestors, the Sibyls. 
 
 And whereas the mind of man, when he gives 
 the spur and bridle to his thoughts, doth never 
 stop, but naturally sallies out into both extremes 
 of high and low, of good and evil; his first flight 
 of fancy commonly transports him to ideas of 
 what is most perfect, finished, and exalted; till 
 
 * Quakers, who suffer their women to preach and pray. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 173 
 
 having soared out of his own reach and sight, 
 not well perceiving how near the frontiers of 
 height and depth border upon each other, with 
 the same course and wing, he falls down plum 
 into the lowest bottom of things; like one who 
 travels the east into the west; or like a strait line 
 drawn by its own length into a circle. Whether 
 a tincture of malice in our natures makes us 
 fond of furnishing every bright idea with its re- 
 verse; or whether reason, reflecting upon the 
 sum of things, can, like the sun, serve only to en- 
 lighten one half of the globe, leaving the other 
 half by necessity under shade and darkness; or 
 whether fancy, flying up to the imagination of 
 what is highest and best, becomes over-short, 
 and spent, and weary, and suddenly falls, like a 
 dead bird of paradise, to the ground; or whe- 
 ther, after all these metaphysical conjectures, i 
 have not entirely missed the true reason; the 
 proposition, however, which hath stood me in so 
 much circumstance, is altogether true, that as 
 the most uncivilized parts of mankind have some 
 way or other climbed up into the conception of 
 a god, or supreme power, so they have seldom 
 forgot to provide their fears with certain ghast- 
 ly notions ♦ which, instead of better, have served 
 them pretty tolerably for a devil. And this pro- 
 ceeding seems to be natural enough: for it is 
 with men, whose imaginations are lifted up very 
 
 i3 
 
174 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 high, after the same rate as with those whose 
 bodies are so; that as they are delighted with 
 the advantage of a nearer contemplation up- 
 wards, so they are equally terrified with the dis- 
 mal prospect of the precipice below. Thus, in 
 the choice of a devil, it hath been the usual me- 
 thod of mankind, to single out some being, ei- 
 ther in act, or in vision, which was in most anti- 
 pathy to the god they had framed. Thus also 
 the sect of iEolists possessed themselves with a 
 dread, and horror, and hatred of two malignant 
 natures, betwixt whom and the deities they ado- 
 red, perpetual enmity was established. The 
 first of these was the Camelion* ', sworn foe to 
 inspiration, who, in scorn, devoured large influ- 
 ences of their god, without refunding the small- 
 est blast by eructation. The other was a huge 
 terrible monster, called Moulinavent, who, with 
 four strong arms, waged eternal battle with all 
 their divinities, dextrously turning to avoid their 
 blows, and repay them with interest. 
 
 Thus furnished, and set out with gods, as well 
 as devils, was the renowned sect of iEolists; 
 which makes at this day so illustrious a figure 
 in the world, and whereof that polite nation of 
 
 * I do not well understand what the author aims at 
 here* any more than by the terrible monster mentioned in 
 the following lines, called Moulinavefit, which is the 
 French name for a wind-mill. 
 
I 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 175 
 
 Laplanders, are, beyond all doubt, a most au- 
 thentic branch: of whom I therefore cannot, 
 without injustice, here omit to make honourable 
 mention; since they appear to be so closely alli- 
 ed, in point of interest, as well as inclinations, 
 with their brother iEolists among us, as not on- 
 ly to buy their winds by wholesale from the same 
 merchants, but also to retail them after the same 
 rate and method, and to customers much alike. 
 
 Now, whether the system here delivered was 
 wholly compiled by Jack; or, as some writers 
 believe, rather copied from the original at Del- 
 phos, with certain additions and emendations 
 suited to the times and circumstances; I shall 
 not absolutely determine. This I may. affirm, 
 that Jack gave it at least a new turn, and form- 
 ed it into the same dress and model as it lies de- 
 duced by me. 
 
 I have long sought after this opportunity of 
 doing justice to a society of men, for whom I 
 have a peculiar honour; and whose opinions, as 
 well as practices, have been extremely misrepre- 
 sented and traduced by the malice or ignorance 
 of their adversaries. For I think it one of the 
 greatest and best of human actions, to remove 
 prejudices, and place things in their truest and 
 fairest light; which I therefore boldly under- 
 take, without any regards of my own, beside the 
 conscience, the honour, and the thanks. 
 
 i 4 
 
176 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 SECT. IX. 
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING THE ORIGINAL^ 
 
 THE USE, AND IMPROVEMENT OF 
 
 MADNESS IN A COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 NOR shall it any wise detract from the just 
 reputation of this famous sect, that its rise and 
 institution are owing to such an author as I have 
 described Jack to be; a person whose intellect- 
 uals were overturned, and his brain shaken out 
 of its natural position; which we commonly sup- 
 pose to be a distemper, and call by the name of 
 madness, or phrensy. For, if we take a survey of 
 the greatest actions that have been performed 
 in the world under the influence of single men; 
 which are, the establishment of new empires by 
 conquest; the advance and progress of new schemes 
 in philosophy ; and the contriving, as well as the 
 propagating of new religions; we shall find the 
 authors of them all to have been persons whose 
 natural reason had admitted great revolutions 
 from their diet, their education, the prevalency 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 177 
 
 of some certain temper, together with the par- 
 ticular influence of air and climate. Besides, 
 there is something individual in human minds, 
 that easily kindles at the accidental approach 
 and collision of certain circumstances, which, 
 though of paultiy and mean appearance, do 
 often flame out into the greatest emergencies of 
 life. For great turns are not alsvays given by 
 strong hands, but by lucky adaption, and at pro- 
 per seasons. And it is of no import where the 
 fire was kindled, if the vapour has once got up 
 into the brain. For the upper region of man is 
 furnished like the middle region of the air; the 
 materials are formed from causes of the widest 
 difference, yet produce at last the same sub- 
 stance and effect. Mists arise from the earth, 
 steams from dunghills, exhalations from the sea, 
 and smoke from fire; yet all clour's are the same 
 in composition, as well as consequences; and 
 the fumes issuing from a jakes, will furnish as 
 comely and useful a vapour, as incense from an 
 altar. Thus far, I suppose, will easily be grant- 
 ed me; and then it will follow, that as the face 
 of nature never produces rain, but when it is 
 overcast and disturbed; so human understand- 
 ing, seated in the brain, must be troubled and 
 overspread by vapours, ascending from the low- 
 er faculties, to water the invention, and render 
 it fruitful. Now, although these vapours (as it 
 l 5 
 
178 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 hath been already said) are of as various origin- 
 al, as those of the skies; yet the crops they pro- 
 duce, differ both in kind and degree, merely 
 according to the soil. I will produce two in- 
 stances, to prove and explain what I am now 
 advancing. 
 
 A certain great prince raised a mighty army, 
 filled his coffers with infinite treasures, provided 
 an invincible fleet; and all this, without giving 
 the least part of his design to his greatest mini- 
 sters, or his nearest favourites*. Immediately 
 the whole world was alarmed; the neighbouring 
 crowns in trembling expectations, towards what 
 point the storm would burst; the small politi- 
 cians every where forming profound conjectures. 
 Some believed, he had laid a scheme for univer- 
 sal monarchy ;.. others, after much insight, deter- 
 mined the matter to be a project for pulling 
 down the Pope, and setting up the reformed 
 religion, which had once been his own. Some 
 again> of a deeper sagacity, sent him into Asia, 
 to subdue the Turk, and recover Palestine. In 
 the midst of all these projects and preparations, 
 a certain state-mrgeonf, gathering the nature of 
 the disease by these symptoms, attempted the 
 cure; at one blow performed the operation, 
 broke the bag, and out flew the vapour. Nor 
 
 * This was Harry the Great of France. 
 
 f Kavillac, who stabbed Henry the Great in his coach. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 379 
 
 did any thing want to render it a complete re- 
 medy, only that the prince unfortunately hap- 
 pened to die in the performance. Now, is the 
 reader exceeding curious to learn, from whence 
 this vapour took its rise, which had so long set 
 the nations at a gaze? what secret wheel, what 
 hidden spring, could put into motion so won- 
 derful an engine ? It was afterwards discovered, 
 that the movement of this whole machine had 
 been directed by an absent female, whose eyes 
 had raised a protuberancy, and, before emission, 
 she was removed into an enemy's country. 
 What should an unhappy prince do in such tick- 
 lish circumstances as these ? He tried in vain 
 the poet's never-failing receipt of corpora qua- 
 que: For, 
 
 Idque petit corpus mens, made est saucia amore ; 
 Unde feritur, eo tendit, gestitque coire. Lucr, 
 
 Having to no purpose used all peaceable en- 
 deavours, the collected part of the semen, raised 
 and inflamed, became adust, converted to choler, 
 turned head upon the spinal duct, and ascended, 
 to the brain. The very same principle that in- 
 fluences a bully to break the windows of a whore 
 who has jilted him, naturally stirs up a great 
 prince to raise mighty armies, and dream of no- 
 thing but sieges, battles, and victories. 
 
180 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 -Teterrimi belli 
 
 Causa- 
 
 The other instance is, what I have read some- 
 where in a very ancient author, of a mighty 
 king # , who, for the space of above thirty years, 
 amused himself to take and lose towns ; beat ar- 
 mies, and be beaten; drive princes out of their 
 dominions; fright children from their bread and 
 butter; burn, lay waste, plunder, dragoon, mas- 
 sacre subject and stranger, friend and foe, male 
 and female. It is recorded, that the philoso- 
 phers of each country were in grave dispute up- 
 on causes natural, moral, and political, to find 
 out where they should assign an original solu- 
 tion of this phenomenon. At last the vapour or 
 spirit which animated the hero's brain, being in 
 perpetual circulation, seized upon that region of 
 the human body, so renowned for furnishing the 
 zibeta occidentalism, and gathering there into a 
 tumour, left the rest of the world for that time 
 
 * This is meant of the present French King, Lewis XIV. 
 
 f Paracelsus, who was so famous for chymistry, tried 
 an experiment upon human excrement, to make a per- 
 fume of it ; which when he had brought to perfection, he 
 called zibeta occidentalism or western civet, the back parts 
 of man (according to his division mentioned by the au- 
 thor, p. 361.) being the west. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 181 
 
 in peace. Of such mighty consequence it is, 
 where those exhalations fix; and of so little, 
 from whence they proceed. The same spirits, 
 which, in their superior progress, would conquer 
 a kingdom, descending upon the anus, conclude 
 in cijistula. 
 
 Let us next examine the great introducers of 
 new schemes in philosophy, and search till we 
 can find from what faculty of the soul the dispo- 
 sition arises in mortal man, of taking it into his 
 head to advance new systems, with such an eag- 
 er zeal, in things agreed on all hands impossible 
 to be known; from what seeds this disposition 
 springs, and to what quality of human nature 
 these grand innovators have been indebted for 
 their number of disciples: because it is plain, 
 that several of the chief among them, both an- 
 cient and modern, were usually mistaken by their 
 adversaries, and indeed by all, except their own 
 followers, to have been persons crazed, or out 
 of their wits; having generally proceeded, in the 
 common course of their words and actions, by a 
 method very different from the vuigar dictates 
 of unrefined reason ; agreeing, for the most part, 
 in their several models, with their present un- 
 doubted successors in the academy of modern 
 Bedlam-, (whose merits and principles I shall 
 farther examine in due place.) Of this kind 
 
182 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 were Epicurus, Diogenes, Apollonius, Lucretius, 
 Paracelsus, Des Cartes, and others; who, if they 
 were now in the world, tied fast, and separate 
 from their followers, would, in this our undistin- 
 guishing age, incur manifest danger of phlebo- 
 tomy, and zvhips, and chains, and dark chambers, 
 and straw. For what man, in the natural state 
 or course of thinking, did ever conceive it in his 
 power to reduce the notions of all mankind ex- 
 actly to the same length, and breadth, and 
 height of his own? Yet this is the first humble 
 and civil design of all innovators in the empire 
 of reason. Epicurus modestly hoped, that, one 
 time or other, a certain fortuitous concourse of 
 all men's opinions, after perpetual justlings, the 
 sharp with the smooth, the light and the heavy, 
 the round and the square, would, by certain 
 clinamina, unite in the notions of atoms and void, 
 as these did in the originals of all things. Car- 
 tesius reckoned to see, before he died, the senti- 
 ments of all philosophers, like so many lesser 
 stars in his romantic system, wrapped and drawn 
 within his own vortex. Now, 1 would gladly be 
 informed, how it is possible to account for such 
 imaginations as these in particular men, without 
 recourse to my phenomenon of vapours, ascend- 
 ing from the lower faculties to overshadow the 
 brain, and there distilling into conceptions, for 
 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 183 
 
 which the narrowness of our mother-tongue has 
 not yet assigned any other name besides that of 
 madness, or phrensy. Let us therefore now con- 
 jecture, how it comes to pass, that none of these 
 great prescribers do ever fail providing them- 
 selves and their notions with a number of im- 
 plicit disciples. And, I think, the reason is easy 
 to be assigned; for there is a peculiar string in 
 the harmony of human understanding, which in 
 several individuals is exactly of the same tuning. 
 This if you can dextrously screw up to its right 
 key, and then strike gently upon it; whenever 
 you have the good fortune to light among those 
 of the same pitch, they will, by a secret neces- 
 sary sympathy, strike exactly at the same time. 
 And in this one circumstance lies all the skill 
 or luck of the matter: for if you chance to jar 
 the string among those who are either above or 
 below your own height; instead of subscribing 
 to your doctrine, they will tie you fast, call you 
 mad, and feed you with bread and water. It is 
 therefore a point of the nicest conduct, to dis- 
 tinguish and adapt this noble talent with respect 
 to the differences of persons and of times. Ci- 
 cero understood this very well, when writing to 
 a friend in England, with a caution, among 
 other matters, to beware of being cheated by o,ur 
 hackney-coachmen, (who, it seems, in those days 
 
184 A TALE Or A TUB. 
 
 were as arrant rascals as they are now), has 
 these remarkable words : Est quod gaudeas te in 
 ista loca venisse, ubi aliquid sapere viderere*. 
 For, to speak a bold truth, it is a fatal miscar- 
 riage, so ill to order affairs, as to pass for a fool 
 in one company, when in another you might be 
 treated as a philosopher. Which I desire some 
 certain gentlemen of my acquaintance to lay up 
 in their hearts, as a very seasonable innuendo* 
 
 This, indeed, was the fatal mistake of that 
 worthy gentleman, my most ingenious friend, 
 Mr Wotton; a person, in appearance, ordain- 
 ed for great designs, as well as performances. 
 Whether you will consider his notions or his 
 looks, surely no man ever advanced into the 
 public with fitter qualifications of body and 
 mind, for the propagation of a new religion. 
 Oh, had those happy talents, misapplied to vain 
 philosophy, been turned into their proper chan- 
 nels of dreams and visions, where distortion of 
 mind and countenance are of such sovereign 
 use; the base detracting world would not then 
 have dared to report, that something is amiss, 
 that his brain hath undergone an unlucky shake; 
 which even his brethren modernists themselves, 
 like ungrates, do whisper so loud, that it reaches 
 up to the very garret I am now writing in. 
 
 * Epist. ad Fam. Trebat. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 185 
 
 Lastly, Whosoever pleases to look into the 
 fountains of enthusiasm, from whence, in all 
 ages, have eternally proceeded such fattening 
 streams, will find the spring-head to have been 
 as troubled and muddy as the current. Of such 
 great emolument is a tincture of this vapour, 
 which the world calls madness, that, without its 
 help, the world would not only be deprived of 
 those two great blessings, conquests and systems, 
 but even all mankind would unhappily be re- 
 duced to the same belief in things invisible* 
 
 Now, the former postulatum being held, that 
 it is of no import from what originals this va- 
 pour proceeds, but either in what anglesit strikes, 
 and spreads over the understanding, or upon 
 what species of brain it ascends; it will be a very 
 delicate point, to cut the feather, and divide the 
 several reasons to a nice and curious reader, 
 how this numerical difference in the brain can 
 produce effects of so vast a difference from the 
 same vapour, as to be the sole point of individu- 
 ation between Alexander the Great, Jack of 
 Leyden, and Monsieur Des Cartes. The pre- 
 sent argument is the most abstracted that ever I 
 engaged in; it strains my faculties to their high- 
 est stretch: and I desire the reader to attend 
 with utmost perpensity; for I now proceed to 
 unravel this knotty point. 
 
186 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 There is in mankind a certain* # 
 
 * # % # * '# 
 
 Hie multa 
 
 desiderantur. **##*# 
 
 * * * And this I take to be a clear 
 solution of the matter. * 
 
 Having therefore so narrowly passed through 
 this intricate difficulty, the reader will, I am 
 sure, agree with me in the conclusion, that if 
 the moderns mean by madness only a disturbance 
 or transposition of the brain, by force of certain 
 vapours issuing up from the lower faculties, 
 then has this madness been the parent of all those 
 mighty revolutions, that have happened in em- 
 pire, in philosophy and in religion. For the 
 brain, in its natural position and state of sere- 
 nity, disposeth its owner to pass his life in the 
 common forms, without any thoughts of subdu- 
 ing multitudes to his own power, his reasons, or 
 his visions: and the more he shapes his under- 
 standing by the pattern of human learning, the 
 less he is inclined to form parties after his par- 
 ticular notions; because that instructs him in 
 
 * Here is another defect in the manuscript; but I think 
 the author did wisely, and that the matter which thus 
 strained his faculties, was not worth a solution; and it 
 were well if all metaphysical cobweb problems were uo 
 otherwise answered. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 1B7 
 
 his private infirmities, as well as in the stubborn 
 ignorance of the people. But when a man's 
 fancy gets astride on his reason; when imagina- 
 tion is at cuffs with the senses; and common 
 understanding, as well as common sense, is kick- 
 ed out of doors ; the first proselyte he makes, is 
 himself; and when that is once compassed, the 
 difficulty is not so great in bringing over others; 
 a strong delusion always operating from without, 
 as vigorously as from within. For cant and vi- 
 sion are, to the ear and the eye, the same that 
 tickling is to the touch. Those entertainments 
 and pleasures we most value in life, are such as 
 dupe and play the wag with the senses. For if 
 w r e take an examination of what is generally un- 
 derstood by happiness, as it has respect either to 
 the understanding or the senses, we shall find 
 all its properties and adjuncts will herd under 
 this short definition, that it is a perpetual posses- 
 sion of being well deceived. And, first, with rela- 
 tion to the mind or understanding, it is mani- 
 fest, what mighty advantages fiction has over 
 truth: and the reason is just at our elbow; be- 
 cause imagination can build nobler scenes, and 
 produce more wonderful revolutions, than for- 
 tune or nature will be at expence to furnish. 
 Nor is mankind so much to blame in his choice 
 thus determining him, if we consider that the 
 debate: merely lies between things past and things 
 
188 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 conceived. And so the question is only this : 
 whether things that have place in the imagina- 
 tion, may not as properly be said to exist, as 
 those that are seated in the memory?- Which 
 may be justly held in the affirmative: and very 
 much to the advantage of the former; since this 
 is acknowledged to be the womb of things, and 
 the other allowed to be no more than the grave. 
 Again, if we take this definition of happiness, 
 and examine it with reference to the senses, it 
 will be acknowledged wonderfully adapt. How 
 fading and insipid do all objects accost us, that 
 are not conveyed in the vehicle of delusion! 
 How shrunk is every thing, as it appears in the 
 glass of nature ! So that if it were not for the 
 assistance of artificial mediums, false lights, re- 
 fracted angles, varnish and tinsel, there would 
 be a mighty level in the felicity and enjoyments 
 of mortal men. If this were seriously consider- 
 ed by the world, as I have a certain reason to 
 suspect it hardly will, men would no longer rec- 
 kon among their high points of wisdom, the art 
 of exposing weak sides, and publishing infirmi- 
 ties: an employment, in my opinion, neither 
 better nor worse than that of unmasking; which, 
 I think, has never been allowed fair usage, either 
 in the world, or the play-house. 
 
 In the proportion that credulity is a more 
 peaceful possession of the mind, than curiosity. 
 
'I 
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 189 
 
 so far preferable is that wisdom which converses 
 about the surface, to that pretended philosophy 
 which enters into the depth of things, and then 
 comes gravely back with informations and dis- 
 coveries, that in the inside they are good for no- 
 thing. The two senses to which all objects first 
 address themselves, are the sight and the touch. 
 These never examine farther than the colour, 
 ! the shape, the size, and whatever other qualities 
 f dw r ell, or are drawn by art upon the outward of 
 bodies; and then comes reason officiously with 
 tools for cutting, and opening, and mangling, 
 and piercing, offering to demonstrate, that they 
 are not of the same consistence quite through. 
 Now, I take all this to be the last degree of per- 
 verting nature; one of whose eternal laws it is, 
 to put her best furniture forward. And there- 
 fore, in order to save the charges of all such ex- 
 pensive anatomy for the time to come, I do here 
 think fit to inform the reader, that in such con- 
 clusions as these, reason is certainly in the right; 
 and that in the most corporeal beings which 
 have fallen under my cognisance, the outside 
 hath been infinitely preferable to the in. Where- 
 of I have been farther convinced from some late 
 experiments. Last week I saw a woman flayed, 
 and you will hardly believe how much it altered 
 her person for the worse. Yesterday I ordered 
 the carcase of a beau to be stripped in my pre- 
 
190 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 sence; when we were all amazed to find so ma- 
 ny unsuspected faults under one suit of cloaths. 
 Then T laid open his brain, his heart, and his 
 spleen. But I plainly perceived, at every opera- 
 tion, that the farther we proceeded, we found 
 the defects increase upon us in number and 
 bulk. From all which I justly formed this con- 
 clusion to myself, that whatever philosopher or 
 projector can find out an art to solder and patch 
 up the flaws and imperfections of nature, will 
 deserve much better of mankind, and teach us a 
 more useful science than that so much in present 
 esteem, of widening and exposing them, like 
 him who held anatomy to be the ultimate end of 
 physic. And he w r hose fortunes and dispositions 
 have placed him in a convenient station to en- 
 joy the fruits of this noble art; he that can, 
 with Epicurus, content his ideas w T ith the films 
 and images, that fly off upon his senses from the 
 superficies of things; such a man, truly wise, 
 creams off nature, leaving the sour and the dregs 
 for philosophy and reason to lap up. This is the 
 sublime and re6ned point of felicity, called the 
 possession of being well deceived; the serene peace- 
 ful state of being a fool among knaves. 
 
 But to return to tnadness: it is certain, that, 
 according to the system I have above deduced, 
 every species thereof proceeds from a redundancy 
 of vapours; therefore, as some kinds of phrtnsy 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 19 1 
 
 - ; ••; , - .. , , . ,, , ., «w: 
 
 give double strength to the sinews, so there are 
 of other species, which add vigour, and life, and 
 spirit to the brain. Now, it usually happens, 
 that these active spirits, getting possession of 
 the brain, resemhle those that haunt other waste 
 and empty dwellings, which, for want of busi- 
 ness, either vanish, and carry away a piece of 
 the house, or else stay at home, and fling it all 
 out of the windows. By which are mystically 
 displayed, the two principal branches of mad- 
 ?iess-, and which some philosophers, not consi- 
 dering so well as I, have mistaken to be differ- 
 ent in their causes; over-hastily assigning the 
 first to deficiency, and the other to redundance. 
 
 I think it therefore manifest, from what I 
 i have here advanced, that the main point of skill 
 and address is, to furnish employment for this 
 redundancy of vapour, and prudently to adjust 
 the season of it; by which means, it may cer- 
 tainly become of cardinal and catholic emolu- 
 ment in a commonwealth. Thus one man chu- 
 sing a proper conjecture, leaps into a gulf, from 
 thence proceeds a hero, and is called the saver 
 of his country : another atchieves the same en- 
 terprise; but, unlucky timing it, has left the 
 brand of madness fixed as a reproach upon his 
 memory. Upon so nice a distinction are we 
 taught to repeat the name of Curtius, with reve- 
 rence and love; that of Empedocles, with hatred 
 
 
1§2 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 
 and contempt. Thus also it is .usually conceiv- 
 ed, that the elder Brutus only personated the 
 fool and madman for the good of the public. 
 But this was nothing else than a redundancy of 
 the same vapour Jong misapplied, called by the 
 Latins, ingenium par negotiis* ; or, to translate 
 it as nearly as I can, a sort ofphrenzy, never in 
 its right element, till you take it up in the busi- 
 ness of the state. 
 
 Upon all which, and many other reasons of 
 equal weight, though not equally curious, I do 
 here gladly embrace an opportunity I have long 
 sought for, of recommending it as a very noble 
 undertaking to Sir Edward Seymour, Sir Chris- 
 topher Musgrave, Sir John Bowls, John How, 
 Esq; and other patriots concerned, that they 
 would move for leave to bring in a bill for ap- 
 pointing commissioners to inspect into Bedlam, 
 and the parts adjacent; who shall be impowered 
 to send for persons, papers, and records; to ex- 
 amine into the merits and qualifications of every 
 student and professor; to observe with utmost 
 exactness their several dispositions and behavi- 
 our; by which means duly distinguishing and 
 adapting their talents, they might produce ad- 
 mirable instruments for the several offices in a 
 
 • Tacit. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 193 
 
 state f # # # civil and military; proceeding in 
 such methods as I shall here humbly propose. 
 And I hope the gentle reader will give some 
 allowance to my great solicitudes in this im- 
 portant affair, upon account of the high esteem 
 I ha ve bone that honourable society, whereof 
 I had some time the happiness to bean unworthy 
 member. 
 
 Is any student tearing his straw in piece-meal, 
 swearing and blaspheming, biting his grate, 
 foaming at the mouth, and emptying his piss- 
 pot in the spectators faces ? Let the Right Wor- 
 shipful the Commissioners of Inspection give him 
 a regiment of dragoons, and send him into Flan- 
 ders among the rest. Is another eternally talking, 
 sputtering, gaping, bawling, in a sound without 
 period or article? What wonderful talents are 
 here mislaid! Let him be furnished immediately 
 with a green bag and papers, and three-pence J in 
 his pocket, and away with him to Westminster- 
 hall. You will find a third gravely taking the 
 dimensions of his kennel; a person of foresight 
 and insight, though kept quite in the dark ; for 
 why, like Moses, ecce cornuta erat ejus fades §. 
 
 f Ecclesiastical. Hawkes. 
 
 X A lawyer's coach-hire, when four together, from any 
 of the inns of court to Westminster. 
 
 § Cornutus is either horned or shining; and by this* 
 term Moses is described in the vulgar Latin of the Bible* 
 
 K 
 
1«)4 A TALE OF A TUB, 
 
 ■ ' ■ . . ' ■■ " m 
 
 He walks duly in pace; intreats your penny 
 with due gravity and ceremony ; talks much of 
 hard times, and taxes, and the whore of Babylon ; 
 bars up the wooden window of his cell con- 
 stantly at eight o'clock ; dreams of fire, and 
 shop-lifters, and court-customers, and privileged- 
 places. Now, what a figure would all these 
 acquirements amount to, if the owner were sent 
 into the city among his brethren ? Behold a fourth, 
 in much and deep conversation with himself; 
 biting his thumbs at proper junctures ; his coun- 
 tenance checkered with business and design; 
 sometimes walking very fast, with his eyes Bail- 
 ed to a paper that he holds in his hands ; a great 
 saver of time; somewhat thick of hearing; very 
 short of sight, but more of memory ; a ma; 
 ever in haste, a great hatcher and breeder 
 business, and excellent at the famous art 
 zohispering nothing ; a huge idolater of monosyl- 
 lables and procrastination ; so ready to give his 
 word to every body, that he never keeps it; one 
 that has got the common meaning of words, but 
 an admirable retainer of the sound; extremely 
 subject to the looseness, for his occasions are 
 perpetually calling him away. If you approach 
 his grate in his familiar intervals, Sir, says he, 
 give me a penny, and Til sing you a song ; but 
 give me the penny first. (Hence comes the com- 
 mon saying, and commoner practice, of parting 
 
 5 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 195 
 
 with money for a song.) What a complete 
 system of court-skill is here described in every 
 branch of it, and all utterly lost with wrong 
 application! Accost the hole of another kennel, 
 (first stopping your nose), you will behold a surly, 
 gloomy, nasty, slovenly mortal, raking in his own 
 dung, and dabbling in his urine. The best part 
 of his diet, is the reversion of his own ordure; 
 which, expiring into steams, whirls perpetually 
 about, and at last reinfunds. His complexion 
 is of a dirty yellow, with a thin scattered beard, 
 exactly agreeable to that of his diet upon its 
 first declination ; like other insects, who having 
 their birth and education in an excrement, from 
 thence borrow their colour and their smell. The 
 student of this apartment is very sparing of 
 his words, but somewhat over liberal of his breath : 
 he holds his hand out, ready to receive your 
 penny ; and immediately upon receipt, withdraws 
 to his former occupations. Now, is it not 
 amazing, to think, the society of Warwick-lane 
 should have no more concern for the recovery 
 of so useful a member, who, if one may judge 
 from these appearances, would become the 
 greatest ornament to that illustrious body ? 
 Another student struts up fiercely to your teeth, 
 puffing with his lips, half squeezing out his eyes, 
 and very graciously holds you out his haad to 
 x 'I 
 
1Q6 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 kiss. The keeper desires you not to be afraid of 
 this professor, for he will do you no hurt. To 
 him alone is allowed the liberty of the anticham- 
 ber ; and the orator of the place gives you to 
 understand, that this solemn person is a taylor, 
 run mad with pride. This considerable student 
 is adorned with many other qualities, upon which 
 
 at present I shall not further enlarge ■ ■■■■■ — 
 
 Hark in your ear* lam strangely 
 
 mistaken, if all his address, his motions, and his 
 airs, would not then be very natural, and in 
 their proper element. 
 
 I shall not descend so minutely, as to insist 
 upon the vast number of beaux, jidlers, poets, and 
 politicians, that the world might recover by such 
 a reformation. But what is more material, 
 besides the clear gain redounding to the com- 
 monwealth, by so large an acquisition of persons 
 to employ, whose talents and acquirements, if 
 I may be so bold to affirm it, are now buried, 
 or at least misapplied ; it would be a mighty 
 advantage accuring to the public from this 
 inquiry, that all these would very much excel! 
 and arrive at great perfection in their several 
 
 * I cannot conjecture what the author means here, or 
 how this chasm could be tilled, though it is capable *>f 
 more than one interpretation. 
 
A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 197 
 
 kinds; which, I think, is manifest from what 
 I have already shewn, and shall inforce by this 
 one plain instance, that even I myself, the author 
 of these momentous truths, am a person whose 
 imaginations are hardmouthed, and exceedingly 
 disposed to run away with his reason, which I 
 have observed from long experience, to be a very 
 light rider, and easily shaken off: upon which 
 account, my friends will never trust me alone 
 without a solemn promise to vent my speculations, 
 in this or the like manner, for the universal 
 benefit of human kind; which perhaps the gentle, 
 courteous, and candid reader, brimfull of that 
 modem charity and tenderness usually annexed 
 to his office, will be very hardly persuaded t© 
 believe. 
 
 K 3 
 
198 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 SECT. X. 
 
 A FURTHER DIGRESSION*. 
 
 IT is an unanswerable argument of a very 
 refined age, the wonderful civilities that have 
 passed of late years, between the nation of 
 authors, and that of readers. There can hardly 
 pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a poem, without 
 a preface full of acknowledgment to the world 
 for the general reception and applause they have 
 given it ; which the Lord knows where, or when, 
 or how, or from whom it receivedf. In due 
 deference to so laudable a custom, I do her 
 
 * This section has in former editions been intitlecl, 
 JL Tale of a Tub; but the tale not being continued till 
 Section 11, and this being only a further digression, no 
 apology can be thought necessary for making the title cor- 
 respond with the contents. Hatches. - 
 
 f This is literally true, as we may observe in the pre- 
 faces to most plays, poems, &c. 
 
 t 
 
 : 
 
A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 199 
 
 return my humble thanks to his Majesty, and 
 both houses of parliament ; to the Lords of the 
 King's Most Honourable Privy Council; to the 
 reverend the judges ; to the clergy, and gentry, 
 and yeomanry of this land : but, in a more 
 especial manner, to my worthy brethren and 
 friends at Will's coffee-house, and Gresham-college, 
 and Warzcick-lane, and Moor-fields, and Scotland* 
 yard, and WestminsUr-iudl, and Guild-hall : in 
 short, to all inhabitants and retainers whatsoever, 
 either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or 
 country, for their generous and universal accept- 
 ance of this divine treatise. I accept their ap- 
 probation and good opinion with extreme gra- 
 titude ; and, to the utmost of my poor capacity, 
 shall take hold of all opportunities to return the 
 obligation. 
 
 I am also happy, that fate has flung me into 
 so blessed an age for the mutual felicity of 
 booksellers and authors, whom I may safely 
 affirm to be at this day the two only satisfied 
 parties in England. Ask an author, how his last 
 piece has succeeded: Why, truly, he thanks his 
 stars, the world has been very favourable, and 
 he has not the least reason to complain. And yet, 
 by G — , he writ it in a week, at bits and starts, 
 when he would steal an hour from his urgent affairs; 
 as it is a hundred to one, you may see farther in 
 the preface, to which he refers you ; and for the 
 K 4 
 
£00 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 rest, to the bookseller. There you go as a 
 customer, and make the same question : He 
 blesses his God, the thing takes wonderfully ; he is 
 just printing the second edition, and has but three 
 left inhis shop. You beat down the price ; Sir, we 
 shall not differ ; and, in hopes of your custom 
 another time, lets you have it as reasonable as 
 you please : And, pray send as many of your 
 acquaintance as you will ; I shall, upon your 
 account, furnish them all at the same rate. 
 
 Now, it is not well enough considered, to 
 what accident and occasions the world is indebted 
 for the greatest part of those noble writings 
 which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were 
 not for a rainy day, a drunken vigil, a fit of the 
 spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy Sunday, an ih 
 run at dice, a long taylor*s bill, a beggars purse, 
 a factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want o, 
 books, and a just contempt of learning; but for 
 these events, I say, and some others too long to 
 recite, (especially a prudent neglect of taking 
 brimstone inwardly), 1 doubt the number of 
 authors, and of writings, would dwindle away 
 to a degree most woful to behold. To confirm 
 this opinion, hear the words of the famous 
 Troglodyte philosopher. It is certain, said he, 
 some grains of folly are of course annexed as part 
 of the composition of human nature ; only the 
 choice is left us, whether voe please to wear them 
 
 > 
 
 
A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 201 
 
 inlaid or imbossed : and we need not go very far 
 to seek how that is usually determined, when we 
 remember, it is with human faculties as with 
 liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top. 
 
 There is in this famous island of Britain, a 
 certain paultry scribler, very voluminous, whose 
 character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger 
 to. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings, 
 called second parts, and usually passes under the 
 name of the author of the first. I easily foresee, 
 that as soon as I Jay down my pen, this nimble 
 operator will have stolen it, and treat me as inhu- 
 manely as he hath already done Dr. Blackmore, 
 L 7 Estrange, and many others who shall here be 
 nameless. I therefore fly for justice and relief, 
 into the hands of that great rectifier of saddles*, 
 and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley, begging he 
 will take this enormous grievance into his most 
 modern consideration : and if it should so happen, 
 that the furniture of an ass, in the shape of a 
 second part, must for my sins be clapped by a 
 mistake upon my back ; that he will immediately 
 please, in the presence of the world, to lighten 
 me of the burthen, and take it home to his own 
 house, till the true beast thinks fit to call for it. 
 
 In the mean time, I do here give this public 
 
 * Alluding to the trite phrase, Place the saddle on 
 ■the right horse. Hatches. 
 
 K 5 
 
£02 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 notice, that my resolutions are to circumscribe 
 within this discourse, the whole stock of matter 
 I have been so many years providing. Since 
 my vein is once opened, I am content to exhaust 
 it all at a runinng, for the peculiar advantage of 
 my dear country, and for the universal benefit of 
 mankind. Therefore hospitably considering the 
 number of my guests, they shall have my whole 
 entertainment at a meal ; and I scorn to set up 
 the leavings in the cup-board. What the guest 
 cannot eat, may be given to the poor ; and the 
 dogs under the table may gnaw the hones*. This 
 I understand for a more generous proceeding, 
 than to turn the company's stomach, by inviting 
 them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps. 
 If the reader fairly considers the strength of 
 what I have advanced in the foregoing section, I 
 am convinced it will produce a wonderful revolu- 
 tion in his notions and opinions ; and he will 
 be abundantly better prepared to receive and to 
 relish the concluding part of this miraculous 
 treatise. Readers may be divided into three 
 classes ; the superficial, the ignorant, and the 
 /earned: and I have with much felicity fitted 
 my pen to the genius and advantage of each 
 
 * By dogs the author means common injudicious critics, 
 as he explains it himself before, in his Digression upon 
 Critics. 
 
 f 
 
A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 203 
 
 , ^ u »i » « * - ■ ■ . . . . , - 
 
 The superficial reader will be strangely provoked 
 to laughter ; which clears the breast and the 
 lungs, is sovereign against the spleen, and the 
 most innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant 
 reader, between whom and the former the dis- 
 tinction is extremely nice, will find himself 
 disposed to stare ; which is an admirable remedy 
 for ill eyes, serves to raise and enliven the spirits, 
 and wonderfully helps perspiration. But the reader 
 truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake 
 when others sleep, and sleep when others wake, 
 will here find sufficient matter to employ his 
 speculations for the rest of his life. It were much 
 to be wished, and I do hereby humbly propose 
 for an experiment, that every prince in Chris- 
 tendom will take seven of the deepest scholars, 
 in his dominions, and shut them up close for seven 
 years, insetfewchambers, with a command to write 
 seven ample commentaries on this comprehen- 
 sive discourse. I shall venture to affirm, that 
 whatever difference may be found in their several 
 conjectures, they will be all, without the least 
 distortion, manifestly deducible from the text. 
 Mean time, it is my earnest request, that so 
 useftri an undertaking may be entered upon, if 
 their Majesties please, with all convenient speed; 
 because I have a strong inclination before I 
 leave the world, to taste a blessing, which we 
 mysterious writers can seldom reach, till we have 
 
 k6 
 
£04 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 gotten into our graves; whether it is, that Fame, 
 being a fruit grafted on the body, can hardly 
 grow, and much less ripen, till the stock is in the 
 earth ; or whether she be a bird of prey, and is 
 lured among the rest to pursue after the scent 
 of a carcase ; or whether she conceives her trum- 
 pet sounds best and farthest, when she stands 
 on a tomb, by the advantage of a rising ground, 
 and the echo of a hollow vault. 
 
 It is true, Indeed, the republic of dark authors, 
 after they once found out this excellent expedient 
 of dying* have been peculiarly happy in the 
 variety, as w r ell as extent of their reputation. 
 For night being the universal mother of things, 
 wise philosophers hold all writings to be fruitful 
 in the proportion they are dark ; and therefore 
 the true illuminated # (that is to say, the darkest 
 of all) have met with such numberless commen- 
 tators, whose scholastic midwifery hath delivered 
 them of meanings that the authors themselves 
 perhaps never conceived, and yet may very 
 justly be allowed the lawful parents of them 4 
 
 * A name of the Rosy crucians.*—— These were fanatic 
 alchemists, who, in search after the great secret, had in- 
 vented a means altogether proportioned to their end. It 
 was a kind of theological philosophy, made up of almost 
 equal mixtures of Pagan Platonism, Christian Quietism, 
 and the Jewish Cabala. Warburton on the Rape of the 
 Lock, 
 
A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 205 
 
 the words of such writers being like seed, which, 
 however scattered at random, when they light 
 upon a fruitful, ground, will multiply far beyond 
 either the hopes or imagination of the sower *. 
 
 And therefore, in order to promote so useful 
 a work, I will here take leave to glance a few 
 innuendo's ', that may be of great assistance to 
 those sublime spirits, who shall be appointed to 
 labour in a universal comment upon this won- 
 derful discourse. And, first, I have couched a 
 very profound mystery in the number of O's 
 multiplied by seven, and divided by nine -f. Also, 
 if a devout brother of the Rosy Cross will pray 
 fervently for sixty-three mornings, with a lively 
 faith, and then transpose certain letters and 
 syllables according to prescription, in the second 
 and fifth section ; they will certainly reveal into 
 a full receipt of the opus magnum. Lastly, 
 whoever will be at the pains to calculate the 
 whole number of each letter in this treatise, 
 and sum up the difference exactly between the 
 several numbers, assigning the true natural 
 cause for every such difference; the discoveries 
 
 * Nothing is more frequent, than for commentators 
 to force interpretations which the author never meant. 
 
 f This is what the Cabalists among the Jews have done 
 with the Bible, and pretend to find wonderful myste- 
 ries by it. 
 
206 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 in the product will plentifully reward his labour. 
 But then he must beware of Bythus and Sige*, 
 and be sure not to forget the qualities of Acha- 
 moth\ a cujus lacrymis, humect a prodit substantia, 
 a risu lucida, a tristitia solida, et a timore mobi/is; 
 wherein Eugenius Philalethes f hath committed 
 an unpardonable mistake. 
 
 *I was told by an eminent divine, whom I consulted on 
 this point, that these two barbarous words, with that f 
 Achamoth, and its qualities, as here set down, are quoted 
 from Irensus. This he discovered by searching that an- 
 cient writer for another quotation of our author; which 
 he has placed in the title page, and refers to the book 
 and chapter. The curious were very inquisitive, whether 
 those barbarous words, basyma cacabasa, &c. are really in 
 Irenoeus ; and upon inquiry, it was found they were a sori 
 of cant or jargon of certain heretics, and therefore ver; 
 properly prefixed to such a book as this of our author. 
 
 f Vid. Anima magica abscondita. 
 
 To the above-mentioned treatise, called Anthroposophia 
 Theomagica, there is another annexed, called Anima magi- 
 ca abscondita, written by the same author, Vaughan, un- 
 der the name of Eugenius Philalethes; but in neither of 
 those treatises is there any mention of Achamoth, or its 
 qualities: so that this is nothing but amusement, and a 
 ridicule of dark, unintelligible writers; only the words, 
 a cujus lacrymis, &c. are, as we have said, transcribed 
 from Irenseus, though I know not from what part, I be- 
 lieve one of the author's designs was, to set curious men 
 a hunting through indexes, and inquiring for bucks out 
 of the common road. 
 
 ; 
 
A TALE OF A TUB* 207 
 
 SECT 7 . XL 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB* 
 
 AFTER so wide a compass as I have wandered, 
 I do now gladly overtake, and close in with my 
 subject; and shall henceforth hold on with it an 
 even pace to the end of my journey, except 
 some beautiful prospect appears within sight of 
 my way : whereof though at present I have 
 neither warning nor expectation, yet upon such 
 an accident, come when it will, I shall beg my 
 readers favour and company, allowing me to 
 conduct him through it along with myself. 
 For in writing, it is as in travelling ; if a man is 
 in haste to be at home, (which I acknowledge 
 to be none of my case, having never so little 
 business as when I am there), if his horse be 
 tired with long riding and ill ways, or be 
 naturally a jade, I advise him clearly to make 
 the straitest and the commonest road, be it ever 
 $o dirty, £ut then surely we must own such a 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 man to be a scurvy companion at best: he 
 spatters himself and his fellow-travellers at every 
 step ; all their thoughts, and wishes, and conver- 
 sation, turn entirely upon the subject of their 
 journey's end ; and at every splash, and plunge, 
 and stumble, they heartily wish one another at 
 the devil. 
 
 On the other side, when a traveller and his 
 horse are in heart and plight ; when his purse is 
 full, and the day before him ; he takes the road 
 only where it is clean and convenient ; enter- 
 tains his company there as agreeab y as he can : 
 but, upon the first occasion, carries them along 
 with him to every delightful scene in view, 
 whether of art, of nature, or of both ; and if 
 they chance to refuse, out of stupidity or wea- 
 riness, let them jog on by themselves, and be 
 
 d n'd : he'll overtake them at the next ttfwn ; 
 
 at which arriving, he rides furiously through; 
 the men, women, and children, run out to gaze; 
 a hundred noisy curs* run barking after him ; of 
 which if he honours the boldest with a lash of his 
 whip, it is rather out of sport then revenge : but 
 should some sourer mongrel dare too near an 
 approach, he receives a salute on the chops .by 
 an accidental stroke from the courser's heels, 
 
 * By these are meant what the author calls, the true- 
 critics* 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. £0$) 
 
 (nor is any ground lost by the blow), which sends 
 him yelping and limping home. 
 
 I now proceed to sum up the singular adven- 
 tures of my renowned Jack ; the state of whose 
 dispositions and fortunes the careful reader does, 
 no doubt, most exactly remember, as I last part- 
 ed with them in the conclusion of a former 
 section. Therefore his next care must be, from 
 two of the foregoing, to extract a scheme of 
 notions that may best fit his understanding for 
 a true relish of what is to ensue. 
 
 Jack had not only calculated the first revolu- 
 tion of his brain so prudently, as to give rise to 
 that empidemic sect of JEolists, but succeeding 
 also into a new and strange variety of concep- 
 tions, the fruitfulness of his imagination led him 
 into certain notions, which, although in appear- 
 ance very unaccountable, were not without their 
 mysteries and their meanings, nor wanted fol- 
 lowers to countenance and improve them. I 
 shall therefore be extremely careful and exact in 
 recounting such material passages of this nature 
 as I have been able to collect, either from 
 undoubted tradition, or indefatigable reading; and 
 shall describe them as graphically as it is possible, 
 and as far as notions of that height and latitude 
 can be brought within the compass of a pen. 
 Nor do I at all question, but they will furnish 
 plenty of noble matter for such, whose convert- 
 
£10 A TALE OF A TtlS. 
 
 ing imaginations dispose them to reduce all 
 things into types ; who can make shadows, no 
 thanks to the sun ; and then mould them into' 
 substances* no thanks to philosophy; whose 
 peculiar talent lies in fixing tropes and allegories 
 to the letter, and refining what is literal into 
 into figure and mystery. 
 
 Jack had provided a fair copy of his father's 
 will, ingrossed in form upon a large skin of 
 parchment : and resolving to act the part of a 
 most dutiful son, he became the fondest creature 
 of it imaginable. For though, as I have often 
 told the reader, it consisted wholy in certain 
 plain, easy directions about the management and 
 wearing of their coats, with legacies and penalties 
 in case of obedience or neglect ; yet he began 
 to entertain a fancy, that the matter was deeper 
 and darker, and therefore must needs have a 
 great deal more of mystery at the bottom* 
 Gentlemen, said he, / will prove this very skin of 
 parchment to be meat, drink, and cloth; to be the 
 philosopher's stone, and the univeral medicine*. 
 In consequence of which raptures, he resolved 
 to make use of it in the most necessary, as well 
 as the most paultry occasions of life. He had 
 
 • The author here lashes those pretenders to purity, 
 who place so much merit in using scripture-phrases on 
 all occasions. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 2ll 
 
 a way of working it into any shape he pleased; 
 so that it served him for a night-cap when he 
 went to bed., and for an umbrella in rainy weather* 
 He would lap a piece of it about a sore toe ; 
 or when he had fits, burn two inches under his 
 nose; or if any thing lay heavy on his stomach, 
 scrape off, and swallow as much of the powder 
 as would lie on a silver penny : they were all 
 infallible remedies. With analogy to these 
 refinements, his common talk and conversation 
 ran wholly in the phrase of his will * ; and 
 he circumscribed the utmost of his eloquence 
 within that compass, not daring to let slip a. 
 syllable without authority from thence. Once, 
 at a strange-house, he was suddenly taken short 
 upon an urgent juncture, whereon it may not 
 be allowed too particularly to dilate ; and being 
 not able to call to mind, with that suddenness 
 the occasion required, an authentic phrase for 
 demanding the way to the back-side ; he chose 
 rather, as the most prudent course, to incur the 
 penalty in such cases usually annexed. Neither 
 was it possible for the united rhetoric of man- 
 
 * The Protestant dissenters use scripture phrases in 
 their serious discourses and composures, more than the 
 Church of England men. Accordingly Jack is introduced, 
 making his common talk and conversation to run wholly 
 in the phrase of his WILL. W. Wottoru 
 
212 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 kind to prevail with him to make himself clean 
 again ; because, having consulted the will upon 
 this emergency, he met with a passage near the 
 bottom (whether foisted in by the transcriber, 
 is not known) which seemed to forbid it # . 
 
 He made it a part of his religion, never to say 
 grace to his meat f ; nor could all the world per- 
 suade him, as the common phrase is, to eat his 
 victuals like a Christian $• 
 
 He bore a strange kind of appetite to snap* 
 
 * I cannot guess the author's meaning here, which I 
 would be very glad to know, because it seems to be of 
 importance. 
 
 Ibid. Incurring the penalty in such cases usually annex- 
 ed, wants no explanation. He would not make himself 
 clean, because having consulted the will, (i. e. the New Tes- 
 tament),'^ met with a passage near the bottom, i. e. in the 
 11th verse of the last chapter of the Revelations, u He 
 which is filthy, let him be filthy still," which seemed to 
 forbid it. Whether foisted in by the transcriber, is added ; 
 because this paragraph is wanting in the Alexandrian 
 MS. the oldest and most authentic copy of the New 
 Testament. Hawkes. 
 
 f The slovenly way of receiving the sacrament among 
 the fanatics. 
 
 X This is a common phrase to express eating cleanly, and 
 is meant for an invective against that indecent manner 
 among some people in receiving the sacrament; so in the 
 lines before, which is to be understood of the dissenters 
 refusing to kneel at the sacrament. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. £13 
 
 dragon*, and to the livid snuffs of a burning 
 candle; which he would catch and swallow with 
 an agility wonderful to conceive ; and by this 
 procedure, maintained a perpetual flame in his 
 belly; which issued in a glowing steam from 
 both his eyes, as well as his nostrils, and his 
 mouth, made his head appear, in a dark night, 
 like the scull of an ass, wherein a roguish boy 
 had conveyed a farthing candle, to the terror of 
 his Majesty's liege subjects. Therefore he made 
 use of no other expedient to light himself home ; 
 but was wont to say, that a wise man was his own 
 lantern. 
 
 He would shut his eyes as he walked along 
 the street; and if he happened to bounce his 
 head against a post, or fall into the kennel, as 
 he seldom missed either to do one or both, he 
 would tell the gibing apprentices, who looked 
 on, that ht submitted, with entire resignation, as 
 to a trip, or biozo of fate, with whom he found by 
 long experience, how vain it was either to zorestle 
 or to cuffi\ and whoever durst undertake to do 
 either, would be sure to come off with aszoingeing 
 fall j or a bloody nose. It was ordained, said he, 
 some few days before the creation, that my nose 
 and this very post should have a rencounter; and 
 
 * I cannot well find out the author's meaning here, unless 
 it be the hot, untimely, blind zeal of enthusiasts. 
 
£14 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 therefore Nature thought fit to send us both into 
 the world in the same age, and to make us country- 
 men and fellow-citizens. Now, had my eyes been 
 open, it is very likely, the business might have 
 been a great deal worse; for how many a confound- 
 ed slip is daily got by man, with all his foresight 
 about him ? besides, the eyes of the understanding 
 set best, when those of the senses are out of the way ; 
 and therefore blind men are observed to tread 
 their steps with much more caution, and conduct, 
 and judgment, than those who rely with too 
 much confidence upon the virtue of the visual 
 nerve, which every little accident shakes out of 
 order, and a drop or film can wholly disconcert ; 
 like a lamp among a pack of roaring bullies, when 
 they scower the streets ; exposing its owner, and 
 itself, to outward kicks and buffets, which both 
 might have escaped, if the vanity of appearing 
 would have suffered them to walk in the dark, 
 But, farther, if we examine the conduct of these 
 boasted lights, it will prove yet a great deal worst 
 than their fortune : It is true, I have broke my 
 nose against this post, because fortune either forgot* 
 or did not think it convenient to tzoitch me by the 
 elbow, and give me notice to avoid it. But let 
 not this encourage either the present age or posterity 
 to trust their noses into the keeping of their eyes, 
 zehich may prove the fairest way of losing them 
 for good and alt. For, Oye eyes! ye blind guides-' 
 
A TA1E OF A TUB. 215 
 
 miserable guardians are ye of our frail noses-, ye, 
 I say, who fasten upon the Jirst precipice in view, 
 and then tow our wretched willing bodies after you, 
 to the very brink of destruction : but, alas! that 
 brink is rotten, our feet slip, and we tumble down 
 prone into a gulph, without one hospitable shrub 
 in the way to break the fall ; a fall, to which not 
 any nose of mortal make is equal, except that of the 
 giant * Laurcalco, who was lord of the silver 
 bridge. Most properly, therefore, O eyes! and 
 with great justice, may you be compared to those 
 foolish lights which conduct men through dirt and 
 darkness, till they fall into a deep pit, or a noisome 
 bog. 
 
 This I have produced, as a scantling of Jack's 
 great eloquence, and the force of his reasoning 
 upon such abstruse matters. 
 
 He was, besides, a person of great design and 
 improvement in affairs of devotion, having intro- 
 duced a new deity, who hath since met with a 
 vast number of worshippers ; by some called 
 Babel, — by others, Chaos ; who had an ancient 
 temple of Gothic structure upon Salisbury- 
 plain, famous for its shrine, and celebration by 
 pilgrims. 
 
 When he had some roguish trick to play, he 
 would down with his knees, up with his eyes, 
 
 
 Vide Don Quixote. 
 
£16 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 and fall to prayers, though in the midst of the 
 kennel*. Then it was that those, who under- 
 stood his pranks, would be sure to get far enough 
 out of his way ; and whenever curiosity attracted 
 strangers to laugh, or to listen, he would of a 
 sudden with one hand out with his gear, and piss 
 full in their eyes, and with the other all bespatter 
 them with mud. 
 
 In winter he went always loose and unbutton- 
 ed, and clad as thin as possible, to let in the 
 ambient heat; and in summer, lapped himself 
 close and thick, to keep it out f. 
 
 In all revolutions of government, he would 
 make his court for the office of hangman-gene- 
 ralj ; and in the exercise of that dignity, wherein 
 he was very dextrous, would make use of no 
 other vizor, than a long prayer %. 
 
 He had a tongue so musculous and subtile, that 
 he could twist it up into his nose, and deliver a 
 strange kind of speech from thence. He was 
 also the first in these kingdoms who began to 
 
 * The villanies and cruelties, committed by enthusiasts 
 and fanatics among us, were all performed under the 
 disguise of religion and long prayers. 
 
 f They affected differences in habit and behaviour. 
 
 % They are severe persecutors, and all in form of cant 
 and devotion. 
 
 § Cromwell and his confederates went, as they called 
 it, to seek God, when they resolved to inurtherthe King. 
 
A TALE OP A TUB. £17 
 
 improve the Spanish accomplishment of braying ; 
 and having large ears, perpetually exposed and 
 erected, he carried his art to such a perfection, 
 that it was a point of great difficulty to distin- 
 guish, either by the view or the sound, between 
 the original and the copy. 
 
 He was troubled with a disease, reverse to 
 that called the stinging of the tarantula ; and 
 would run dog-mad at the noise otmusic, especially 
 a pair of bag-pipes *. But he would cure himself 
 again, by taking two or three turns in Westmin- 
 ster-hall, or Billingsgate, or in a boarding-school, 
 or the Royal Exchange, or a state coffee house. 
 
 He was a person that feared no colours f, but 
 mortally hated all - y and upon that account bore 
 a cruel aversion against painters, insomuch that 
 in his paroxysms, as he walked the streets, he 
 would have his pockets loaden with stones, to 
 pelt at the signs. 
 
 Having, from this manner of living, frequent 
 occasion to wash himself, he would often leap 
 over head and ears into water, though it were 
 the midst of winter ; and was always observed 
 
 * This is to expose our dissenters aversion against 
 instrumental music in churches W. Wotton. 
 
 f They quarrel at the most innocent decency and orna- 
 ment, and defaced the statues and paintings on all the 
 churches in England, 
 
218 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 to come out again much dirtier, if possible, 
 than he went in *. 
 
 He was the first that ever found out the secret 
 of contriving a soporiferous medicine to be con- 
 veyed in at the ears. It was a compound of 
 sulphur and balm of Gilcad, with a little pilgrim's 
 salve f . 
 
 He wore a large plaister of artificial caustics 
 on his stomach, with the fervour of which he 
 could set himself a groaning, like the famous 
 board upon application of a red-hot iron. 
 
 He would stand in the turning of a street; 
 and, calling to those who passed by, would cry 
 to one, Worthy Sir, do me the honour of a good 
 slap in the chaps; to another, Honest friend, pray 
 favour me with a handsome kick on the arse. 
 Madam, shall I intreat a small box on the ear 
 from your ladyship's fair hand ? Noble Captain, 
 lend a reasonable thwack for the love of God, wilh 
 that cane of yours, over these poor shoulders J, 
 And when he had by such earnest solicitations, 
 
 * Baptism or aoults by plunging. Hatches* 
 f Fanatic preaching, composed either of hell or dam- 
 nation, or a fulsome description of ihe joys of heaven ; 
 both in such a dirty, nauseous style, as to be well resem- 
 bled to pilgrim's salve. 
 
 J The Fanatics have always had a way of affecting to 
 run into persecution, and count vast merit upon every 
 little hardship they suffer. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 219 
 
 made a shift to procure a basting sufficient to 
 swell up his fancy and his sides, he would return 
 home extremely comforted, and full of terrible 
 accounts of what he had undergone for the public 
 good. Observe this stroke, said he, shewing hi* 
 bare shoulders, a plaguy janisary gave it me this 
 very morning at seven o'clock, as, with much ado, 
 I was driving of the Great Turk. Neighbours, 
 mind this broken head deserves a plaister. Had 
 poor Jack been tender of his noddle, you would 
 have seen the Pope and the French King, long 
 before this time of day, among your wives and 
 your warehouses. Dear Christians, the Great 
 Mogul was come as far as White-chapel; and you 
 may thank these poor sides, that he hath not (God 
 bless us) already swallowed up man, woman, and 
 child. 
 
 It was highly worth observing, the singular 
 effects of that aversion or antipathy which Jack 
 and his brother Peter seemed, even to an affec- 
 tation, to bear against each other *<, Peter had 
 
 * The Papists and Fanatics, though they appear the 
 most averse against each other, yet bear a near resem- 
 blance, in many things, as hath been observed by learned 
 men. 
 
 Ibid. The agreement of our Dissenters and the Papists, 
 
 in that which Bishop Stillingfleet called, The fanaticism 
 
 of the church of Rome, is ludicriously described for several 
 
 pages together, by Jack's likeness to Peter, and their 
 
 l2 
 
£20 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 lately done some rogueries, that forced him to 
 abscond; and he seldom ventured to stir out 
 before night, for fear of bailiffs. Their lodgings 
 were at the two most distant parts of the town > 
 from each other; and whenever their occasions 
 or humours called them abroad, they would 
 make choice of the oddest unlikely times, and 
 most uncouth rounds, they could invent, that 
 they might be sure to avoid one another. Yet, 
 after all this, it was their perpetual fortune to 
 meet. The reason of which is easy enough to 
 apprehend : for the phrenzy and the spleen of 
 both having the same foundation, we may look 
 upon them as two pair of compasses, equally 
 extended, and the fixed foot of each remaining 
 in the same centre; which though moving 
 contrary ways at first, will be sure to encounter 
 somewhere or other rn the circumference. Be- 
 sides, it was among the great misfortunes of 
 Jack, to bear a huge personal resemblance with 
 his brother Peter. Their humour and dispositions 
 were not only the same, but there was a close 
 analogy in their shape and size, and their mien; 
 insomuch as nothing was more frequent, than 
 for a bailiff to seize Jack by the shoulders, and 
 cry, Mr. Peter, you are the King's prisoner ; or, 
 
 being often mistaken for each other, and their frequent 
 meetings when they least intended it. W. Wotton. 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 221 
 
 at other times, for one of Peter's nearest friends, 
 to accost Jack with open arms, Dear Peter, 
 I am glad to see thee ; pray, send me one of your 
 best medicines for the worms. This, we may 
 suppose, was a mortifying return of those pains 
 and proceedings Jack had laboured in so long; 
 and finding how directly opposite all his endea- 
 vours had answered to the sole end and inten- 
 tion which he had proposed to himself, how 
 could it avoid having terrible effects upon a head 
 and heart so furnished as his ? However, the 
 poor remainders of his coat bore all the punish- 
 ment. The orient sun never entered upon his 
 diurnal progress, without missing a piece of it. 
 He hired ataylor to stitch up the collar so close, 
 that it was ready to choke him, and squeezed 
 out his eyes at such a rate as one could see 
 nothing but the white. What little was left of 
 the main substance of the coat, he rubbed every 
 day. for two hours, against a rough-cast wall, in 
 order to grind away the remnants of lace and 
 embroidery ; but, at the same time, went on 
 with so much violence, that he proceeded a 
 Heathen philosopher. Yet, after all he could do 
 of this kind, the success continued still to disap- 
 point his expectation. For as it is the nature 
 of rags, to bear a kind of mock resemblance to 
 finery; there being a sort of fluttering appearance 
 in both, which is not to be distinguished at a 
 
 l 3 
 
$ 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 p 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 m 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 222 A TALE OF A TUB, 
 
 distance, in the dark, or by short-sighted eyes: 
 so, in those junctures, it fared with Jack and 
 his tatters, that they offered to the first view a 
 ridiculous flaunting; which, assisting the resem- 
 blance in person and air, thwarted all his projects 
 ©f separation, and left so near a similitude 
 between them, as frequently deceived the very 
 disciples and followers of both. * # 
 
 * * # 
 
 Desunt non- 
 nulla. 
 
 # * # 
 The old Sclavonian proverb said well, That it 
 
 is with men as with asses ; whoever would keep 
 them fast j must find a very good hold at their ears. 
 Yet I think we may affirm, that it hath beea 
 verified by repeated experience, that, 
 
 Effugiet tamen haec sceleratus vincula Proteus. 
 
 It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of 
 our ancestors, with great allowances to times and 
 persons. For, if we look into primitive records 
 we shall find, that no revolutions have been so 
 great, or so frequent, as those of human ears. 
 In former days, there was a curious invention to 
 catch and keep them ; which, I think, we may 
 justly reckon among the artesperditoe. And how 
 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 223 
 
 can it be otherwise, when, in these latter centu- 
 ries, the very species is not only diminished to a 
 very lamentable degree, but the poor remainder 
 is also degenerated so far, as to mock our skilful- 
 Jest tenure® For if the only slitting of one ear in 
 a stag hath been found sufficient to propagate 
 the defect through a whole forest, why should 
 we wonder at the greatest consequences, for so 
 many loppings and mutilations, to which the 
 ears of our fathers, and our own, have been of 
 late so much exposed ? It is true, indeed, that 
 while this island of ours was under the dominion 
 of grace, many endeavours were made to im- 
 prove the growth of ears once more among us. 
 The proportion of largeness was not only looked 
 upon as an ornament of the outward man, but a9 
 a type of grace in the inward. Besides, it is held 
 by naturalists, that if there be a protuberancy 
 of parts in the superior region of the body, as in 
 the ears and nose, there must be a parity also in 
 the inferior. And therefore, in that truly pious 
 age, the males in every assembly, according as 
 they were gifted, appeared very forward in 
 exposing their ears to view, and the regions 
 about them; because Hippocrates tells us, that 
 when the vein behind the ear happens to be cut, a 
 man becomes an eunuch *. And the females were 
 
 * Lib. de aere > locis, et aquis, 
 h 4 
 
224 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 nothing back warder in beholding and edifying by 
 them: whereof those who had already used 
 the means, looked about them with great concern, 
 in hopes of conceiving a suitable offspring by 
 such a prospect. Others, who stood candidates 
 for benevolence, found there a plentiful choice, 
 and was sure to fix upon such as discovered the 
 largest ears, that the breed might not dwindle 
 between them. Lastly, the devouter sisters, who 
 look upon all extraordinary dilatations of that 
 member as protrusions of zeal, or spiritual 
 excrescences, were sure to honour every head 
 they sat upon, as if they had been marks of 
 grace-, but especially that of the preacher, whose 
 ears were usually of the prime magnitude; which, 
 upon that account, he was very frequent and 
 exact in exposing with all advantages to the 
 people; in his rhetorical paroxysms, turning 
 sometimes to hold forth the one, and sometimes 
 fc> hold forth the other. From which custom, 
 the whole operation of preaching is to this very 
 day, among their professors, styled by the phrase 
 of holding forth* 
 
 Such was the progress of the saints for advan- 
 cing the size of that member; and it is thought, 
 the success would have been every way answera- 
 ble, if in process of time, a cruel king had not 
 arose, who raised a bloody persecution against 
 
 I 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. £%$ 
 
 all ears above a certain standard *. Upon which, 
 some were glad to hide their flourishing sprouts 
 in a black border; others crept wholly under a 
 periwig ; some were slit, others cropped, and a 
 great number sliced off to the stumps. But 
 of this more hereafter in my general history of 
 ears; which I design very speedily to bestow 
 upon the public. 
 
 From this brief survey of the falling state of 
 ears in the last age, and the small care had to 
 advance their ancient growth in the present, it is 
 manifest, how little reason we can have to rely 
 upon a hold so short, so weak, and so slippery; 
 and that whoever desires to catch mankind fast, 
 must have recourse to some other methods. 
 Now, he that will examine human nature with 
 circumspection enough, may discover several 
 handles, whereof the sixf senses afford one a-piece, 
 beside a great number that are screwed to the 
 passions, and some few rivetted to the intellect. 
 Among these last, curiosity is one, and, of all 
 others, affords the firmest grasp; curiosity , that 
 spur in the side, that bridle in the mouth, that 
 ring in the nose, of a lazy and impatient, and 
 a grunting reader. By this handle it is, that an 
 
 * This was K. Charles II. who, at his restoration, turn- 
 ed out all the dissenting teachers that would not conform, 
 f Including Scaliger's. 
 
 h 5 
 
€26 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 author should seize upon his readers; which as 
 soon as he hath once compassed, all resistance 
 and struggling are in vain ; and they become 
 his prisoners as close as he pleases, till weariness 
 or dulness force him to let go his grip. 
 
 And therefore I, the author of this miraculous 
 treatise, having hitherto, beyond expectation, 
 maintained, by the aforesaid handle, a firm hold 
 upon my gentle leaders; it is with great reluc- 
 tance, that I am at length compelled to remit 
 my grasp ; leaving thern in the perusal of what 
 remains to that natural oscitaticy inherent in the 
 tribe. I can only assure thee, courteous reader, 
 for both our comforts, that my concern is alto- 
 gether equal to thine, for my unhappiness in 
 losing, or mislaying among my papers, the 
 remaining part of these memoirs; which consist- 
 ed of accidents, turns, and adventures, both new, 
 agreeable, and surprising; and therefore calcu- 
 lated, in all due points, to the delicate taste of 
 this our noble age. But, alas! with my utmost 
 endeavours, I have been able only to retain a 
 few of the heads. Under which, there was a 
 full account, how Peter got & protection out of 
 the King's-bench ; and of a reconcilement be- 
 tween Jack and him, upon a design they had 
 in a certain rainy night to trepan brother Martin 
 into a spunging-home, and there strip him to the 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. £2?" 
 
 skin*: how Martin, with much ado, shewed 
 them both a fair pair of heels ; how anew war- 
 rant came out against Peter; upon which, how 
 Jack left him in the lurch, stole his protection, and 
 mad? me of it himself. How Jack's tatters came 
 into fashion in court and city ; how he got upon a 
 great horsef, and eat custardp But the particu- 
 lars of all these, with several others, which have 
 now slid out of my memory, are lost beyond all 
 hopes of recovery. For which misfortune, 
 leaving my readers to condole with each other, 
 as far as they shall find it to agree with 
 their several constitutions; but conjuring them, 
 
 * In the reign of K. James II. the Presbyterians, by the 
 King's invitation, joined with the Papists, against the 
 church of England, and addressed him for repeal of the 
 penal laws and test. The King, by his dispensing power, 
 gave liberty of conscience, which both Papists and Pres- 
 byterians made use of. But upon the Revolution, the 
 Papists being down of course, the Presbyterians freely 
 continued their assemblies, by virtue of K. Jame^s indul- 
 gence, before they had a toleration by law. This, I believe, 
 the author means by Jack's stealing Peter's protection, 
 and making use of it himself. 
 
 f Sir Humphrey Edwyn, a Presbyterian, was some 
 years ago Lord Mayor of London, and had the insolence 
 to go in his formalities to a conventicle, with the ensigns 
 of his office. 
 
 X Custard is a famous dish at a Lord Mayor's feast. 
 l6 
 
A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 by all the friendship that hath passed between 
 us from the title-page to this, not to proceed so 
 far as to injure their healths for an accident past 
 remedy : I now go on to the ceremonial part of 
 an accomplished writer; and therefore, by a 
 courtly modem, least of all others to be omitted. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 GOING too long, is a cause of abortion as 
 effectual, though not so frequent, as going too 
 short ; and holds true, especially in the labours 
 of the brain. Well fare the heart of that noble 
 Jesuit * who first adventured to confess in print,, 
 that books must he suited to their several seasons, 
 like dress, and diet, and diversions : and better 
 fare our noble nation, for refining upon this, 
 among other French modes. I am living fast to 
 see the time, when a book that misses its tide, 
 $hall be neglected, as the moon by day, or like 
 maekarei a week after the season. No man hath 
 more nicely observed our climate, than the 
 
 * Pere d'Orleans, 
 
THE CONCLUSION. £29 
 
 bookseller who bought the copy of this work. 
 He knows to a tittle, what subjects will best go 
 off in a dry year, and which it is proper to expose 
 foremost, when the weather-glass is fallen to 
 much rain. When he had seen this treatise, 
 and consulted his almanack upon it, he gave me 
 to understand, that he had manifestly considered 
 the two principal things, which were the bulk 
 and the subject ; and found, it would never take, 
 but after a long vacation ; and then only, in 
 case it should happen to be a hard year for tur- 
 nips. Upon which I desire to know, considering 
 my urgent necessities, what he thought might be 
 acceptable this month. He looked westward, 
 and said, / doubt we shall have a Jit of bad wea- 
 ther ; however, if you could prepare some pretty 
 little banter, (but not in verse), or a small treatise 
 
 upon the , it would run like wildfire. But 
 
 if it hold up, / have already hired an author to 
 write something against Dr. Bentley, which, I am 
 $ure y will turn to account*. 
 
 At length we agreed upon the expedient, that 
 when a customer comes for one of these, and 
 desires in confidence to know the author; he 
 
 * When Dr. Prideaux brought the copy of his connection 
 of the Old and New Testament to the bookseller, he told 
 him, it was a dry subject, and the printing could not safely 
 be ventured, unless he could enliven it with a little humour. 
 Hawkes. 
 
£30 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 will tell him very privately, as a friend, naming 
 which ever of the wits shall happen to be that 
 week in vogue; and if Durfey's last play should 
 be in course, I had as lieve he may be the 
 person as Congreve. This I mention, because 
 I am wonderfully well acquainted with the pre- 
 sent relish of courteous readers ; and have often 
 observed, with singular pleasure, that a fly driven 
 from a honey-pot, will immediately with very 
 good appetite, alight, and finish his meal on an 
 excrement. 
 
 I have one word to say upon the subject of 
 profound writers, who are grown very numerous 
 of late; and, L know very well, the judicious 
 world is resolved to list me in that number. 
 I conceive therefore, as to the business of being 
 profound, that it is with writeis, as with wells: 
 a person with good eyes may see to the bottom 
 of the deepest, provided any zvater be there; 
 and often when there is nothing in the world at 
 the bottom, besides dryness and dirt, though it 
 be but a yard and a half under ground, it shall 
 pass however for wondrous deep, upon no wiser 
 a reason, then because it is wondrous dark. 
 
 I am now trying an experiment very frequent 
 among modem authors; which is, to write upon 
 nothing: when the subject is utterly exhausted, 
 to let the pen still move on ; by some called, the 
 ghost of wit, delighting to walk after the death 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 231 
 
 of its body. And to say the truth, there seems 
 to be no part of knowledge in fewer hands, than 
 that of discerning when to have done. By the 
 time that an author hath written out a book, he 
 and his readers are become old acquaintance, 
 and grow very loth to part ; so that I have some- 
 times known it to be in writing, as in visiting, 
 where the ceremony of taking leave has employ- 
 ed more time than the whole conversation before. 
 The conclusion of a treatise resembles the con- 
 clusion of human life, which hath sometimes 
 been compared to the end of a feast ; where few 
 are satisfied to depart, ut plenus vita conviva: 
 for men will sit down after the fullest meal, 
 though it be only to dose, or to sleep out the rest 
 of the day. But, in this latter, I differ extremely 
 from other writers ; and shall be too proud, if, 
 by all my labours, I can have any waj T s contri- 
 buted to the repose of mankind, in times so tur- 
 bulent and unquiet as these*. Neither do T 
 think such an employment so very alien from 
 the office of a wit 9 as some would suppose. 
 For among a very polite nation in Greece, there 
 were the same temples built and consecrated 
 to Sleep and the Muses, between which two 
 
 * This was written before the peace of Kyswick, which 
 was signed in September 1697. 
 
232 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 deities they believed the strictest friendship was 
 established*. 
 
 I have one concluding favour to request of my 
 reader, That he will not expect to be equally 
 diverted and informed by every line, or every 
 page of this discourse; but give some allowance 
 to the author's spleen, and short fits or intervals 
 of dulness, as well as his own; and lay it seriously 
 to his conscience, whether, if he were walking 
 the streets in dirty weather, or a rainy day, he 
 would allow it fair dealing in folks, at their ease 
 from a window, to criticise his gait, and ridicule 
 his dress at such a juncture. 
 
 In my disposure of employments of the brain, 
 I have thought fit to make invention the master, 
 and to give method and reason the office of his 
 lacqueys. The cause of this distribution was, 
 from observing it my peculiar case to be often 
 under a temptation of being witty upon occa- 
 sions, where I could be neither wise nor sound, 
 nor any thing to the matter in hand. And I 
 am too much a servant of the modern way, to 
 neglect any such opportunities, whatever pains 
 or improprieties I may be at to introduce them. 
 For I have observed, that from a laborious col- 
 lection of seven hundred thirty-eight Jiozcers, and 
 shining hints of the best modern authors, digested 
 
 * Trezenii, Pausan, 1. 2. 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 233 
 
 with great reading into my book of common- 
 places \ I have not been able, after five years, to 
 draw, hook, or force into common conversation, 
 any more than a dozen. Of which dozen, the 
 one moiety failed of success, by being dropped 
 among unsuitable company ; and the other cost 
 me so many strains, and traps, and ambages to 
 introduce, that I at length resolved to give it 
 over. Now, this disappointment, (to discover a 
 secret), I must own, gave me the first hint of 
 setting up for an author ; and I have since found 
 among some particular friends, that it is become 
 a very general complaint, and has produced the 
 same effects upon many others. For I have 
 remarked many a towardly word to be wholly 
 neglected or despised in discourse^ whicfo hath 
 passed very smoothly, with some consideration 
 I and esteem, after its preferment and sanction in 
 print. But now, since, by the liberty and 
 encouragement of the press, I am grown absolute 
 master of the occasions and opportunities to 
 expose the talents I have acquired ; I already 
 discover, that the issues of my observanda begin 
 to grow too large for the receipts. Therefore I 
 shall here pause a while, till 1 find, by feeling 
 the world's pu.se, and mv own, that it will be 
 of absolute necessity for us both to resume my 
 pen. 
 
A 
 
 - 
 
 FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 BATTLE 
 
 FOUGHT LAST FRIDAY, 
 BETWEEN THE ANCIENT AND THE MODERN 
 
 BOOKS 
 
 JN ST. JAMES'S LIBRARY. 
 
THE 
 
 BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 
 
 THE following discourse, as it is unquestion- 
 ably of the same author, so it seems to have been 
 written about the same time with the former; 
 I mean, the year 1697, when the famous dispute 
 was on foot, about ancient and modern learning. 
 The controversy took its rise from an essay of 
 Sir William Temple's upon that subject; which 
 was answered by W. Wotton, B. D. with an 
 appendix by Dr. Bentley, endeavouring to 
 destroy the credit of iEsop and Phalaris for 
 authors, whom Sir William Temple had, in the 
 essay before mentioned, highly commended. In 
 that appendix, the doctor falls hard upon a new 
 edition of Phalaris, put out by the honourable 
 Charles Boyle, (now Earl of Orrery) ; to which 
 (Mr. Boyle replied at large, with great learning 
 and wit; and the doctor voluminously rejoined. 
 
238 THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 
 
 In this dispute, the town highly resented, to see 
 a person of Sir William Temple's character and 
 merits roughly used by the two Reverend gen- 
 tlemen aforesaid, and without any manner of 
 provocation. At length, there appearing no 
 end of the quarrel, our author tells us, that the 
 BOOKS in St. James's library, looking upon 
 theimelves as parties principally concerned, took 
 up the controversy, and came to a decisive battle ; 
 but the manuscript, by the injury of fortune or 
 weather, being in several places imperfect, we 
 cannot learn to which side the victory fell. 
 
 I must warn the reader, to beware of applying 
 to persons, what is here meant only of books in 
 the most literal sense. So, when Virgil is men- 
 tioned, we are not to understand the person of 
 a famous poet called by that name ; but only cer- 
 tain sheets of paper, bound up in leather, con- 
 taining in print the works of the jaid poet ; and 
 so of the rest. 
 
THE 
 
 PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 SATTKEi* a sort of glass, wherein beholders 
 do generally discover every body's face but 
 their own; which is the chief reason for that 
 kind reception it meets with in the world, and 
 that so very few are offended with it. But if it 
 should happen otherwise, the danger is not 
 great; and 1 have learned, from long experience, 
 never to apprehend mischief from those under- 
 standings I have been able to provoke. For 
 anger and fury, though they add strength to 
 the sinews of the body, yet are found to relax 
 those of the mind, and to render all its efforts 
 feeble and impotent. 
 
 There is a brain that will endure but one scum- 
 piing ; let the owner gather it with discretion, 
 and manage his little stock with husbandry. 
 
240 THE PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 - - • ' ' " • • ' ■ ■ ' - * ?' 
 
 But of all things, let him beware of bringing it 
 under the lash of his betters; because that will 
 make it all bubble up into impertinence, and he 
 will find no new supply: wit without knowledge 
 being a sort of crtam, which gathers in a night 
 to the top, and by a skilful hand may be soon 
 whipped into froth; but once scummed away, 
 what appears underneath, will be fit for nothing, 
 but to be thrown to the hogs. 
 
FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 BATTLE 
 
 Fought Last Friday, %c. * 
 
 VV HOEVER examines with due circumspec- 
 tion, into the annual records of time, will find 
 it remarked, that War is the child of pride, and 
 
 * The Battle of the Books took its rise from a contro- 
 versy between Sir William Temple and Mr. Wotton; a 
 a controversy which made much noise, and employed 
 many pens towards the latter end of the last century. 
 This humourous treatise is drawn up in an heroic comic 
 style, in which Swift, with great wit and spirit, gives the 
 victory to the former. The general plan is excellent, but 
 particular parts are defective. The frequent chasms puzzle 
 and interrupt the narrative: they neither convey anj 
 latent ideas ; nor point out any distinct or occult sarcasms. 
 Some characters are barely touched upon, which might 
 have been extended ; others are enlarged, which might 
 have been contracted. The name of Horace is inserted ; 
 
 M 
 
242 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 Pride the daughter of Riches*. The former of 
 which assertions may be soon granted : but one 
 cannot but so easy subscribe to the latter. For 
 
 and Virgil is introduced only for an opportunity of com- 
 paring his translator, Dryden, to the lady in a lobster ; 
 to a mouse under a canopy of state ; and to a shrivelled 
 heau zoithin the pent-house of' a full-bottomed periwig. These 
 similies carry the true stamp of ridicule. But rancour 
 must be very prevalent in the heart of an author, who 
 could overlook the merits of Dryden; many of whose 
 dedications and prefaces are as fine compositions, and as 
 just pieces of criticism, as any in our language. The 
 translation of Virgil was a work of haste and indigence. 
 Dryden was equal to the undertaking, but unfortunate 
 during the conduct of it. - The two chief heroes among 
 the modern generals, are Wotton and Bentley. Their 
 figures are displayed in the most disadvantageous attitudes. 
 The former is described, " full of spleen, dulness, and ill 
 manners." The latter is represented, " tall, without shape 
 or comeliness; lar^e, without strength or proportion."—* 
 The battle, which is maintained by the ancients with great 
 superiority of strength, though not of numbers, ends 
 with the demolition of Bentley, and his friend Wotton, by 
 the lance of the Honourable Charles Boyle, youngest 
 son of Roger the second Earl of Orrery, and father of the 
 present Earl. He was a fellow of the royal society, and 
 invented the astronomical machine called the Orrery* 
 Orrery. 
 
 * Riches produceth pride; pride is war's ground, &c. 
 Vid. Ephem. de Mary Clarke, opt. edit. — now called 
 Wing's sheet almanack, and printed by J. Roberts for the 
 company of Stationers. 
 
 I 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 243 
 
 Pride is nearly releated to Beggary and Want, 
 either by father or mother, and sometimes by 
 both: and, to speak naturally, it very seldom 
 happens among men to fall out, when all have 
 enough; invasions usually travelling from North 
 to South, that is to say, from poverty to plenty. 
 The most ancient and natural grounds of quar- 
 rels are Lust and Avarice ; which, though we may 
 allow to be brethren or collateral branches of 
 Pride, are certainly the issues of Want. For, to 
 speak in the phrase of writers upon politics, we 
 may observe in the republic of dogs, which in its 
 original seems to be an institution of the many, 
 that the whole state is ever in the profoundest 
 peace after a full meal; and that civil broils arise 
 among them, when it happens for one great bone 
 to be seized on by some hading dog; who either 
 divides it among the few, and then it falls to an 
 oligarchy; or keeps it to himself, and then it 
 runs up to a tyranny. The same reasoning also 
 holds place among them, in those dissensions we 
 behold upon a turgescency in any of the females. 
 For, the right of possession lying in common, (it 
 being impossible to establish a property in so deli- 
 cate a case), jealousies and suspicions do so 
 abound, that the whole commonwealth of that 
 state is reduced to a manifest state of war, of 
 every citizen against every citizen ; till some one 
 of more courage, conduct, or fortune, than the 
 M 2 
 
-544 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 rest, seizes and enjoys the prize : upon which 
 naturally arises plenty of heart-burning, and envy 
 and snarling against the happy dog. Again, if we 
 look upon any of these republics engaged in a 
 foreign war, either of invasion or defence, we 
 shall find, die same reasoning will serve as to the 
 grounds and occasions of each ; and that Poverty, 
 or Want, in some degree or other, (whether 
 real, or in opinion, which makes no alteration in 
 the case), has a great share, as well as Pride, on 
 the part of the aggressor. 
 
 Now, whoever will please to take this scheme, 
 and either reduce or adapt it to an intellectual 
 state, or commonwealth of learning, will soon 
 discover the first ground of disagreementbetween 
 the two great parties at this time in arms ; and 
 may form just conclusions upon the merits of 
 either cause. But the issue or events of this war 
 are not so easy to conjecture at: for the present 
 quarrel is so inflamed by the warm heads of 
 either faction, and the pretensions somewhere or 
 other so exorbitant, as not to admit the leas.t 
 overtures of accommodation. This quarrel 
 first began, as I have heard it affirmed by an old 
 dweller in the neighbourhood, about a small spot 
 X)f ground, laying and being upon one of the two 
 ; tops of the hill Parnassus, the highest and largest 
 of which had, it seems, been, time out of mind, 
 in quiet possession of certain tenants called the 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 245 
 
 Undents; and the other was held by the Modems. 
 But these disliking their present station, sent 
 certain ambassadors to the Ancients, complaining 
 of a great nuisance; how the height of that part 
 of Parnassus quite spoiled the prospect of theirs, 
 especially towards the east : and therefore, to 
 avoid a war, offered them the choice of this alter- 
 native, either that the Ancients would please to 
 remove themselves and their effects down to the 
 lower summity, which the Moderns would gra- 
 ciously surrender to them, and advance in their 
 place ; or else that the said Ancients will give leave 
 to the Moderns, to come with shovel and mat- 
 tocks, and level the said hill as low as they shall 
 think it convenient. To which the Ancients made 
 answer, How little they expected such a message 
 as this, from a colony whom they bad admitted, 
 out of their own free grace, to so near a neigh- 
 bourhood : that as to their own seat, they were 
 aborigines of it; and therefore, to talk with them 
 of a removal or surrender, was a language they 
 did not understand : that if the height of the 
 hill on their side shortened the prospect of the 
 Moderns, it was a disadvantage they could not 
 help ; but desired them to consider, whether that 
 injury (if it be any), were not largely recompens- 
 ed by the shade and shelter it afforded them : 
 that as to the levelling or digging down, it was 
 either folly or ignorance to propose it, if they 
 M 3 
 
246 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 did, or did not know, how that side of the hill 
 was an entire rock, which would break their 
 tools and hearts, without any damage to itself: 
 that they would therefore advise the Moderns, 
 rather to raise their own side of the hill, than 
 dream of pulling down that of the Ancients; to 
 the former of which they would not only give 
 licence, but also largely contribute. Ail this 
 'was rejected by the Moderns, with much indig- 
 nation ; who still insisted upon one of the two 
 expedients. And so this difference broke out 
 into a long and obstinate war; maintained on the 
 one part by resolution, and by the courage of 
 certain leaders and allies ; but on the other, by 
 the greatness of their number, upon all defeats 
 affording continual recruits. In this quarrel, 
 whole rivulets of ink have been exhausted, and 
 the virulence of both parties enormously aug- 
 mented. Now, it must here be understood, that 
 ink is the great missive weapon in all battles of 
 the learned, which conveyed through a sort of 
 engine called a quill, infinite numbers of these 
 are darted at the enemy, by the valiant on each 
 side, with equal skill and violence, as if it were 
 an engagement of porcupines. This malignant 
 liquor was compounded, by the engineer who 
 invented it, of two ingredients, which are gall 
 and copperas-, by its bitterness and venom, to 
 suit in some degree, as well as to foment, the 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 247 
 
 genius of the combatants. And as the Grecians, 
 after an engagement, when they could not agree 
 about the victory, were wont to set up trophies 
 on both sides; the beaten party being content to 
 be at the same expence to keep itself in counte- 
 nance, (a laudible and ancient custom happily 
 revived of late in the art of war); so the learned, 
 after a sharp and bloody dispute, do on both 
 sides hang out their trophies too, whichever 
 comes by the worst. These trophies have largely 
 inscribed on them, the merits of the cause; a 
 full impartial account of such a battle, and how 
 the victory fell clearly to the party that set them 
 up. They are known to the world under several 
 names; as, Disputes, Arguments, Rejoinders, Brief 
 Considerations, Anszoers, Replies, Remarks, Re- 
 flections, Objections, Confutations. For a very 
 few days they are fixed up in all public places, 
 either by themselves or their representatives*, 
 for passengers to gaze at: from whence the 
 chiefest and largest are removed to certain 
 magazines, they call libraries, there to remain 
 in a quarter purposely assigned them, and from 
 thenceforth begin to be called books of contro- 
 versy. 
 
 v In these books is wonderfully instilled, and 
 preserved, the spirit of each warrior, while he is 
 
 * Their title-pages. 
 M 4 
 
948 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 alive; and after his death, his soul transmigrates 
 there, to inform them. This, at least, is the 
 more common opinion. But I believe, it is with 
 libraries as with other coemeteries, where some 
 philosophers affirm, that a certain spirit, which 
 they call bratum hominis, hovers over the monu- 
 ment, till the body is corrupted, and turns to 
 dust or to worms, but then vanishes or dissolves : 
 so, we may say, a restless spirit haunts over 
 every book, till dust or worms have seized upon 
 it; which to some may happen in a few days, 
 but to others later. And therefore, hooks of 
 controversy, being of all others haunted by the 
 most disorderly spirits, have always been confin- 
 ed in a separate lodge from the rest ; and for 
 fear of mutual violence against each other, it 
 was thought prudent by our ancestors, to bind 
 them to the peace with strong iron chains. Of 
 which invention the original occasion was this. 
 When the works of Scotus first came out, they 
 were carried to a certain great library, and had 
 lodgings appointed them : but this author was 
 no sooner settled, than he went to visit his 
 master Aristotle; and there both concerted 
 together to seize Plato by main force, and turn 
 him out from his ancient station among the 
 divines, where he had peaceably dwelt near eight 
 hundred years. The attempt succeeded, and 
 the two usurpers have reigned ever since in his 
 
 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 249* 
 
 stead. But to maintain quiet for the future, it 
 was decreed, that all polemics of the largest size 
 should be held fast with a chain. 
 
 By this expedient, the public peace of libraries 
 might certainly have been preserved, if a new 
 species of controversial books had not arose of 
 late years, instinct with a mast malignant spirit, 
 from the war above mentioned, between the 
 Uar?ied r about the higher summity of Parnassus. 
 
 When these books were first admitted into 
 the public libraries, I remember to have said 
 upon occasion, to several persons concerned, 
 how I was sure they would create broils where- 
 ever they came, unless a world of care were 
 taken: and therefore I advised that the cham- 
 pions of each side should be coupled together, 
 or otherwise mix.ed ; that, like the blending of 
 contrary poisons,, their malignity might be 
 employed among themselves. And it seems I 
 was neither an ill prophet, nor an ill counsellor : 
 for it was nothing else but the neglect of this 
 caution, which gave occasion to the terrible 
 fight that happened on. Friday last, between the 
 Ancient and Modem books in the Kings library. 
 Now, because the talk of this battle is so fresh 
 in every body's mouth, and the expectation of 
 the town so great to be informed in the particu- 
 lars ; I, being possessed of all qualifications 
 requisite in an historian, and retained by neither 
 M 5 
 
 
250 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 party, have resolved to comply with the urgent 
 importunity of my friends, by writing down a 
 full impartial account thereof. 
 
 The guardian of the regal library, a person of 
 great valour, but chiefly renowned for his 
 humanity'*, had been a fierce champion for the 
 Moderns-, and in an engagement upon Parnassus, 
 had vowed, with his own hands to knock down 
 two of the Ancient chiefs, who guarded a small 
 pass on the superior rock : but endeavouring to 
 climb up, was cruelly obstructed by his own un- 
 happy weight, and tendency towards his centre : 
 a quality to which those of the Modern party 
 are extreme subject ; for, being light-headed, 
 they have in speculation a wonderful agility, and 
 conceive nothing too high for them to mount; 
 but in reducing to practice, discover a mighty 
 pressure about their posteriors and their heels. 
 Having thus failed in his design, the disappoint- 
 ed champion bore a cruel rancour to the Ancients ; 
 which he resolved to gratify, by shewing all 
 marks of his favour to the books of their adver- 
 saries, and lodging them in the fairest apart- 
 
 * TheHonourableMr. Boyle, in the preface to his edition 
 of Phalaris, says, he was refused a manuscript by the 
 library-keeper, pro solita, humanitate sua. 
 
 Ibid. Dr. Bentley was then library-keeper. The two 
 ancients were Phalaris and iEsop. Hawkes. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 251 
 
 - — 1 — - — - — - 
 
 merits; when at the same time, whatever book 
 had the boldness to own itself for an advocate 
 of the Ancients, was buried alive in some obscure 
 corner, and threatened upon the least displeasure, 
 to be turned out of doors. Besides, it so hap- 
 pened, that about this time there was a strange 
 confusion of place among all the books in the 
 library ; for which several reasons were assigned. 
 Some imputed it to a great heap of learned dust, 
 which a perverse wind blew off from a shelf of 
 Moderns into the keeper's eyes. Others affirmed, 
 he had a humour to pick the worms out of the 
 schoolmen, and swallow them fresh and fasting; 
 whereof some fell Upon his spleen, and some 
 climbed up into his head, to the great perturbation 
 of both. And lastly, others maintained, that, 
 by walking much in the dark about the library, 
 he had quite lost the situation of it out of his 
 head; and therefore, in replacing his books, he 
 was apt to mistake, and clap Bes Cartes next 
 to Aristotle, poor Plato had got between Hob- 
 bes and the Seven wise masters ; and Virgil was 
 hemmed in with Diyden on one side, and Withers 
 on the other. 
 
 Mean while, those books that were advocates 
 for the Moderns, chose out one from among them, 
 to make a progress through the whole library, 
 examine the number and strength of their party, 
 and concert their affairs. This messenger per- 
 m 6 
 
£52 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 formed all things very industriously, and brought 
 back with him a list of their forces, in all fifty 
 thousand, consisting chiefly of light horse, heavy 
 armed foot, and mercenaries : whereof the foot 
 were, in general, but sorrily armed, and worse 
 clad : their horses large, but extremely out of 
 case and heart. However, some few, by trading 
 among the Ancients, had furnished themselves 
 tolerably enough. 
 
 While things were in this ferment, discord 
 grew extremely high, hot words passed on both 
 sides, and ill blood was plentifully bred. Here 
 a solitary Ancient squeezed up among a whole 
 shelf of Moderns, offered fairly to dispute the 
 case and to prove by manifest reason, that the 
 priority was due to them, from long possession, 
 and in regard of their prudence, antiquity, and, 
 above all, their great merits towards the Mor 
 derm. But these denied the premises ; and 
 seemed very much to wonder, how the Ancients 
 could pretead to insist upon their antiquity, 
 when it was so plain, (if they went to that), 
 that the Moderns were much the more ancient* of 
 the two. As for any obligations they owed to 
 the Ancients, they renounced them all. " It is 
 true/' said tlxey, " we are informed some few of 
 our party have been so mean to borrow their sub-n 
 
 * According to the modern paradox, 
 
. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 253 
 
 sistence from you. But the rest, infinitely the 
 greater number, (and especially we French and 
 English,) were so far from stooping to so base 
 an example, that there never passed, till this 
 very hour, six words between us. For our 
 horses were of our own breeding, our arms of 
 our own forging, and our cloths of our own 
 cutting and sowing/' Plato was by chance upon 
 the next shelf, and observing those that &poke 
 to be in the ragged plight mentioned awhile ago ; 
 their jades lean and foundered, their weapons of 
 rotten wood, their armour rusty, and nothing 
 but rags underneath; he laughed aloud, and, in 
 
 his pleasant way, swore, By he believed 
 
 them. 
 
 Now, the Moderns had not proceeded in theb 
 late negociation, with secrecy enough to escape 
 the notice of the enemy. For those advocates 
 who had begun the quarrel, by setting first on 
 foot the dispute of precedency, talked so loud 
 of coming to a battle, that Temple happened to 
 overhear them,, and gave immediate intelligence 
 to the Jncients; who thereupon drew up their 
 scattered troops together, resolving to act upon 
 the defensive. Upon which several of the Mo- 
 derns fled over to their party, and among the 
 rest Temple himself. This Temple having been 
 educated and long conversed among the Ancients > 
 
254 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 was of all the Modems their greatest favourite, 
 and became their greatest champion. 
 
 Things were at this crisis, when a material 
 accident fell out. For, upon the highest corner 
 of a large window, there dwelt a certain spider, 
 swollen up to the first magnitude by the de- 
 struction of infinite numbers ofjlies, whose spoils 
 lay scattered before the gates of his palace, like 
 human bones before the cave of some giant. 
 The avenues to his castle were guarded with 
 turnpikes and palisadoes, all after the modem 
 way of fortification. After you had passed 
 several courts, you came to the center, wherein 
 you might behold the constable himself in his 
 own lodgings, which had windows fronting to 
 each avenue, and ports to sally out upon all 
 occasions of prey or defence. In this mansion 
 he had for some time dwelt in peace and plenty, 
 without danger to his person by swallows from 
 above, or to his palace by brooms from below ; 
 when it was the pleasure of fortune to conduct 
 thither a wandering bee, to whose curiosity a 
 broken pane in the glass had discovered itself : 
 and in he went; where expatiating a while, he 
 at last happened to alight upon one of the out- 
 ward walls of the spiders citadel ; which yielding 
 to the unequal weight, sunk down to the very 
 foundation. Thrice he endeavoured to force his 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 255 
 
 rr-r-~ "•" " - - ~ • " ' . . . " , , ■ , _;__ 
 
 passage, and thrice the center shook. The spider 
 within feeling the terrible convulsion, supposed 
 at first, that Nature was approaching to her final 
 dissolution; or else, that Beelzebub, with all 
 his legions, was come to revenge the death of 
 many thousands of his subjects, whom his enemy 
 had slain and devoured. However, he at length 
 valiantly resolved to issue forth, and meet his 
 fate. Meanwhile the bee had acquitted himself 
 of his toils, and, posted securely at some 
 distance, was employed in cleansing bis wings, 
 and disengaging them from the ragged remnants 
 of the cobweb. By this time the spider was 
 adventured out; when, beholding the chasms, 
 and ruins, and dilapidations of his fortress, he 
 was very near at his wit's end. He stormed and 
 swore like a madman, and swelled till he was 
 ready to burst. At length, casting his eye upon 
 the bee, and wisely gathering causes from events, 
 (for they knew each other by sight) ; " A plague 
 spilt you," said he, " for a giddy son of a whore. 
 Is it you, with a vengeance, that have made 
 this litter here ? Could not you look before you, 
 and be d — n'd? Do you think I have nothing 
 else to do, (in the devil's name), but to mend 
 and repair after your arse?" " Good words, 
 friend, (said the bee, having now pruned himself, 
 and being disposed to droll ; " I'll give you my 
 hand and word to come near your kennel na 
 
£56 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 more : I was never in such a confounded pickle 
 since I was born." "Sirrah," replied the spider, 
 ie if it were not for breaking an old pustom in our 
 family, never to stir abroad against an enemy, 
 I should come and teach you better manners/* 
 4S I pray, have patience," said the bee, " or you 
 will spend your substance; and, for aught I see, 
 you may stand in need of it all towards the 
 repair of your house " " Rogue, rogue," replied 
 the spider; u yet me thinks you should have more- 
 respect to a person, whom all the world allows 
 to be so much your betters." " By my troth," 
 said the bee, u the comparison will amount to- 
 a very good jest ; and you will do me a favour, 
 to let me know the reason that all the world is 
 pleased to use in so hopeful a dispute." At this, 
 the spider, having swelled himself into the size 
 and posture of a disputant, began his argument 
 in the true spirit of controversy, with a resolution 
 to be heartily scurrilous and angry; to urge on 
 his own reasons, without the least regard to the 
 answers or objections of his opposite; and fully 
 predetermined in his mind against all conviction. 
 u Not to disparage myself," said be, " by the- 
 eomparis®n with such a rascal, what art thou 
 but a vagabond, without house or home, without 
 stock or inheritance; born to no possession of 
 moxxx own, but a pair of wings and a dronepipe? 
 Your livelihood is an universal plunder upon* 
 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 257 
 
 nature; a freebooter over fields and gardens; 
 and for the sake of stealing, will rob a nettle as 
 readily as a violet. Whereas I am a domestic 
 animal, furnished with a native stock within 
 myself. This large castle, (to shew my improve- 
 ments in the mathematics) is all built with my 
 own hands, and the materials extracted alto- 
 gether out of my own person." 
 
 " I am glad/' answered the bee, "to hear you 
 grant at least, that I am come honestly by my 
 wings and my voice : for then, it seems, I am 
 obliged to heaven alone for my flights and my 
 music; and providence would never have bestow- 
 ed on me two such gifts, without designing them 
 for the noblest ends. I visit indeed all the 
 flowers and blosoms of the field and garden: 
 but whatever I collect from thence, enriches 
 myself, without the least injury to their beauty, 
 their smell, or their taste. Now, for you, and 
 your skill in architecture and other mathematics, 
 I have little to say. In that building of your's, 
 there might, for aught I know, have been labour 
 and method enough ; but, by woful experience 
 for us both, it is plain, the materials are naught; 
 and I hope you will henceforth take warning, 
 and consider duration and matter, as well as 
 method and art. You boast indeed of being 
 obliged to no other creature, but of drawing 
 and spinning out all from yourself; that is to 
 
258 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 say, if we may judge of the liquor in the vessel 
 by what issues out, you possess a good plentiful 
 store of dirt, and poison in your breast. And 
 and although I would by no means lessen or 
 disparage your genuine stock of either, yet, I 
 doubt, you are somewhat obliged for an increase 
 of both to a little foreign assistance. Your 
 inherent portion of dirt does not fail of acqui- 
 sitions, by sweepings exhaled from below; and 
 one insect furnishes you with a share of poison 
 to destroy another. So that, in short, the 
 question comes all to this, whether is the nobler 
 being of the two; that which, by alazy contem- 
 plation of four inches round, by an overweening 
 pride, feeding and ingendering on itself, turns 
 all into excrement and venom, producing nothing 
 at all, but fly -bane and a cob-web : or that which, 
 by an universal range, with long search, much 
 study, true judgment, and distinction of things, 
 brings home honey and wax ?" 
 
 This dispute was managed with such eagerness, 
 clamour and warmth, that the two parties of 
 books in arms below stood silent awhile, waiting 
 in suspence what would be the issue. Which 
 was not long undetermined : for the bee, grown 
 impatient at so much loss of time, fled straight 
 away to a bed of roses without looking for a 
 reply ; and left the spider, like an orator collected 
 in himself, and just prepared to burst out. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. t59 
 
 It happened, upon this emergency, that JEsop 
 broke silence first. He had been of late most 
 barbarously treated by a strange effect of the 
 regent's humanity, who had tore off his title-page, 
 sorely defaced one half of his leaves, and chain- 
 ed him fast among a shelf of Modems* ; where 
 soon discovering how high the quarrel was like 
 to proceed, he tried all his arts, and turned 
 himself to a thousand forms. At length, in the 
 borrowed shape of an ass, the regent mistook 
 him for a Modern; by which means he had time 
 and opportunity to escape to the Ancients, just 
 when the spider and the bee were entering into 
 the contest; to which, he gave his attention with 
 a world of pleasure; and when it was ended, 
 swore in the loudest key, that in all his life, he 
 had never known two cases so parallel and adapt 
 to each other, as that in the window, and this 
 upon the shelves. " The disputants," said he, 
 " have admirably managed the dispute between 
 them, have taken in the full strength of all that 
 is to be said on both sides, and exhausted the 
 substance of every argument pro and con. It 
 is but to adjust the reasonings of both to the 
 present quarrel, then to compare and apply the 
 labours and fruits of each, as the bee has learn- 
 
 * Bentley, who denied the antiquity of iEsop. 
 
£60 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 edly deduced them ; and we shall find the con- 
 clusion fail plain and close upon the Moderns 
 and us. For, pray, gentlemen, was ever any 
 thing so modem as the spider, in his air, his turns, 
 and his paradoxes? he argues in the behalf of 
 you his brethren, and himself, with many boast- 
 ings of his native stock, and great genius ; that 
 he spins and spits wholly from himself, and 
 scorns to own any obligation or assistance from 
 without, Then he displays to you his great skill 
 in architecture, and improvement in the ma- 
 thematicks. To all this, the bee, as an advocate 
 retained by us the Ancients, thinks fit to answer, 
 that if one may judge of the great genius or 
 inventions of the Moderns, by what they have 
 produced, you will hardly have countenance to 
 bear you out in boasting of either. Erect your 
 schemes with as much method and skill as you 
 please; yet if the materials be nothing but dirt, 
 spun out of your own entrails, (the guts of 
 modem brains), the edifice will conclude at last 
 in a cobweb; the duration of which, like that 
 of other spiders webs, may be imputed to their 
 being forgotten, or neglected, or hid in a cor- 
 ner. For any thing else of genuine that the 
 Modems, may pretend to, I cannot recollect- 
 unless it be a large vein of wrangling and satire, 
 much of a nature and substance with the spider's 
 poison ; which, however they pretend to spit 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. £61 
 
 wholly out of themselves, is improved by the 
 same arts, by feeding upon the insects and ver- 
 min of the age. As for us the Ancients, we 
 are content, with the bee, to pretend to nothing 
 of our own, beyond our zcings and our voice ; 
 that is to say, our flights and our language. 
 For the rest, whatever we have got, has been 
 by infinite labour and search, and ranging 
 •through every corner of nature. The difference 
 is, that instead of dirt and poison, we have 
 .rather chosen to fill our hives with honey and 
 wax; thus furnishing mankind with the two 
 noblest of things, which are, szoeetness and light" 
 It is wonderful to conceive the tumult arisen 
 among the books, upon the close of this long 
 descant ofiEsop. Both parties took the hint, 
 and heightened their animosities so on a sudden, 
 that they resolved it should come to a battle. 
 •Immediately the two main bodies withdrew 
 under their several ensigns, to the farther parts 
 of the library, and there entered into cabals and 
 consults upon the present emergency; The 
 Modems were in very warm debates upon the 
 choice of their leaders ; and nothing less than 
 the fear impending from their enemies, could 
 have kept them from mutinies upon this occasion. 
 The difference was greatest among the hone, 
 where every private trooper pretended to the 
 chief command, from Tasso and Milton, to 
 
262 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 Dryden and Withers. The light-horse were 
 commanded by Cowley and Despreaux*. There 
 came the bowmen under their valiant leaders, 
 Des Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes; whose 
 strength was such, that they could shoot their 
 arrows beyond the atmosphere, never to fall down 
 again, but turn, like that of Evander, into 
 meteors, or, like the cannon-ball, into stars, 
 Paracelsus brought a squadron of stinkpots/lingers 
 from the snowy mountains of Rhaetia. There 
 came, a vast body of dragoons of different nations, 
 under the leading of Harvey, their great Jgaf ; 
 part armed with scythes, the weapons of death ; 
 part with lances and long knives, all steeped in 
 poison; part shot bullets of a most malignant 
 nature, and used white powder, which infalliably 
 killed without report. There came several 
 bodies of heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries^ under 
 the ensign of Guiccardine, Davila, Polydore 
 Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, Camden, and others. 
 The engineers were commanded by Regiomon- 
 tanus and Wilkins. The rest were a confused 
 multitude, led by Scotus, Acquinas, and Ballar- 
 
 * More commonly known by the name of Boileau. 
 Hawkes. 
 
 f Dr. Harvey, who discovered the circulation of the 
 blood; a discovery much insisted on by the advocates for 
 the Moderns, and excepted against as false by Sir William 
 Temple, in his essay, p. 44. 45. Hawkes. 
 
_ 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 26^ 
 
 mine; of mighty balk and stature, but without 
 either arms, courage, or disciple. In the last 
 place, came infinite swarms of calories *, a 
 disorderly rout led by L'Estran^e ; rogues and 
 raggamuffins, that followed the camp for nothing 
 but the plunder; all without coats to cover 
 themf. 
 
 The army of Ancients was much few r er in 
 number : Homer led the horse, and Pindar the 
 light-horse; Euclid was chief engineer, Plato 
 and Aristotle commanded the bowmen; Hero- 
 dotus and Livy the foot; Hippocrates the dra- 
 goons; the allies led by Vossius, and Temple 
 brought up the rear. ' 
 
 All things violently tending to a decisive bat- 
 tle, Fame, who much frequented, and had a 
 1 large apartment formerly assigned her in the 
 
 regal library, fled up straight to Jupiter, to 
 whom she delivered a faithful account of all that 
 
 * Calories. By calling this disorderly rout calories, the 
 euthor points both his satire and contempt against all sorts 
 of mercenary scriblers, who write as they are commanded 
 by the leaders and patrons of sedition, faction, corruption, 
 and every evil work. They are styled calories, because 
 they are the meanest and most despisable of all writers ; as 
 the calories, whether belonging to the army, or private 
 families, were the meanest of all slaves or servants 
 whatsoever. Hawkes. 
 
 t These are pamphlets which are not bound or covered. 
 
254 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 passed between the two parties below; for 
 among the gods she always tells truth. Jove, in 
 great concern, convokes a council in the Milky 
 Way. The senate assembled : he declares the 
 occasion of convening them; a bloody battle 
 just impendent between two mighty armies of 
 Ancient and Modern creatures, called books, 
 wherein the celestial interest was but two deeply 
 concerned. Momus, the patron of the Moderns, 
 made an excellent speech in their favour; which 
 was answered by Pallas, the protectress of the 
 Ancients. The assembly was divided in their 
 affections; when Jupiter commanded the book 
 of Fate to be laid before him. Immediately 
 were brought, by Mercury, three large volumes 
 in folio, containing memoirs of all things past, 
 present, and to come. The clasps were of silver, 
 double gilt; the covers of celestial turkey-leather, 
 and the paper such as here on earth might almost 
 pass for vellum. Jupiter having silently read the 
 decree, would communicate the import to none, 
 but presently shut up the book. 
 
 Without the doors of this assembly, there 
 attended a vast number of light, nimble gods, 
 menial servants to Jupiter. These are his mini- j 
 stering instruments in all affairs below. They 
 travel in a caravan, more or less together, and 
 are fastened to each other, like a link of galley- 
 slaves, by a light chain, which passes from them 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 265 
 
 to Jupiter's great toe. And yet, in receiving or 
 delivering a message, they may never approach 
 above the lowest step of his throne, where he and 
 they whisper to each other through a long hol- 
 low trunk. These deities are called by mortal 
 men accidents or events ; but the gods call them 
 second causes. Jupiter having delivered his 
 message to a certain number of these divinities, 
 \ they flew immediately down to the pinnacle of 
 i the regal library, and, consulting a few minutes, 
 eii entered unseen, and disposed the parties accord- 
 i ing to their orders. 
 
 Mean while, Momus, fearing the worst, and 
 
 r calling to mind an ancient prophecy, which bore 
 
 no very good face to his children the Moderns, 
 
 bent his flight to the region of a malignant deity, 
 
 called Criticism. She dwelt on the top of a snowy 
 
 mountain in Nova Zembla. There Momus 
 
 tji found her extended in her den, upon the spoils 
 
 - of numberless volumes half devoured. At her 
 
 right hand sat Ignorance, her father and husband, 
 
 blind with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, 
 
 dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself 
 
 had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light 
 
 of foot, hood-winked, and head-strong ; yet 
 
 giddy, and perpetually turning. About her 
 
 played her children, Noise, and Impudence, Dul- 
 
 | ness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and 
 
 Ul-manners. The goddess herself had claws 
 
 * 
 
 & v 
 
266 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 like a cat; her head, and ears, and voice, 
 resembled those of an ass ; her teeth fallen out 
 before; her eyes turned inward, as if she looked 
 only upon herself; her diet was the overflowing 
 of her own gall; her spleen was so large, as to 
 stand prominent like a dug of the first rate ; 
 nor wanted excrescences in form of teats, at 
 which a crew of ugly monsters were greedily 
 sucking; and, what is wonderful to conceive, 
 the bulk of spleen increased faster than the suck- 
 ing could diminish it. " Goddess," said Momus, 
 " can you sit idle here, while our devout wor- 
 shippers, the Moderns, are this minute entering 
 into a cruel battle, and perhaps now lying under 
 the swords of their enemies ? who then hereafter 
 will ever sacrifice, or build altars to out divinities? 
 Haste therefore to the British isle, and, if possible, 
 prevent their destruction; while I make 
 factions among the gods, and gain them over 
 to our party," 
 
 Momus having thus delivered himself, staid 
 not for an answer, but left the goddess to her 
 own resentment. Up she rose in a rage; and as 
 it is the form upon such occasions, began a 
 soliloquy. " It is I," (said she) " who give wisdom 
 to infants and idiots; by me children grow wiser 
 than their parents; by me beaux become poli- 
 ticians, and school-boys judges of philosophy; 
 by mesophisters debate, and conclude upon the 
 
THE J5ATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 267 
 
 1 ■ i ■ - . - . 
 
 depths of knowledge; and coffeehouse-wits, 
 instinct by me, can correct an author's style, 
 and display his minutest errors, without under- 
 standing a syllable of his matter or his language; 
 by me striplings spend their judgment, as they 
 do their estate, before it conies into their hands. 
 It is I who have deposed wit and knowledge 
 from their .empire over Poetry, and advanced 
 myself in their stead. And shall a few upstart 
 
 Ancients dare oppose me ? But come, my 
 
 aged parents, and you my children dear, and 
 thou my beauteous sister; let us ascend my 
 
 \ chariot, and haste to assist our devout Modems, 
 who are now sacrificing to us a hecatomb, as I 
 
 I perceive by that grateful smell, which from 
 thence reaches my nostrils/' 
 
 The goddess and her train, having mounted 
 the chariot, which was drawn by tame geese, flevr 
 over infinite regions, shedding her influence in 
 due places, till at length she arrived at her belov- 
 ed island of Britain. But, in hovering over its 
 metropolis, what blessings did she not let fall 
 upon her seminaries of Gresham and Covent- 
 garden ? and now she reached the fatal plain 
 of St. James's library, at what time the two 
 armies were upon the point to engage; where 
 entering with all her caravan unseen, and, landing 
 N 2 
 
 -~-^ 
 
'€68 THE RATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 upon a case of shelves, now desart, but once 
 inhabited by a colony of virtuoso's, she staid 
 a while to observe the posture of both armies. 
 
 But here the tender cares of a mother began 
 to fill her thoughts, and move in her breast. 
 For, at the head of a troop of Modern bowmen, 
 -she cast her eyes upon her son Wotton ; tq whom 
 the Fates had assigned a very short thread; 
 Wotton, a young hero, whom an unknown 
 father of mortal race begot by stolen embraces 
 with this goddess. He was the darling of his 
 mother, above all her children, and she 'resolved 
 to go and comfort him. But first, according to 
 the good old custom of deities, she cast about 
 to change her shape; for fear the divinity of her 
 countenance might dazzle his mortal sight, and 
 over charge the rest of his-senses. She therefore 
 gathered up her person into an Octavo compass: 
 her body grew white and arid, and split in pieces 
 with driness ; the thick turned into paste-board, 
 and the thin into paper, upon which her parents 
 and children, artfully strewed a black juice, or 
 decoction of gall and soot, in form of letters ; 
 her head, and voice, and spleen, kept their 
 primitive form, and that which before was n 
 cover of skin, did still continue so. In this 
 guise, she march'd on towards the Moderns, 
 ^indistinguishable in shape and dress from the 
 divine Bentley, Wotton's dearest friend. a Brave 
 
 *j 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. £69 
 
 Wotton," said the goddess, " why do our troops 
 stand idle here, to spend ther present vigour 
 and opportunity of the day ? away, let us haste 
 to the generals, and advise to give the onset 
 immediately." Having spoke thus, she tock 
 the uglest of her monsters, full glutted from her 
 spleen, and flung it invisibly into his mouth; 
 which flying straight up into his head, squeezed 
 out his eye balls, gave him a* distorted look, and^ 
 half overturned his brain. Then she privately 
 ordered two of her beloved children, Dulness- 
 and Ill-manners, closely to attend his person in 
 all encounters. Having thus accoutred him, , 
 she vanished in a mist; and the hero perceived it 
 was the goddess his mother. 
 
 The destined hour of fate being now arrived, 
 the fight began ; whereof before I dare adventure 
 to make a particular description, I must, after 
 the example of other authors, petition for a 
 hundred tongues, and mouths, and hands, and 1 
 pens; which would all be too little to perform 
 so immense a work. Say, goddess, that presided 
 over history, who it was that first advanced in-.- 
 the field of battle. Paracelsus, at the head of 
 his dragoons, observing Galen in the adverse 
 wing, darted his javelin with a mighty force; 
 which the brave Ancient received upon his shield, 
 the point breaking in the second fold, # * 
 n 3 
 
£70 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 ***** Hie pauca 
 
 # * * * # desunt. 
 
 They bore the wounded Jga* on their shields 
 
 to his chariot. * * * 
 
 ***** Desunt 
 
 * * * * * nonnulla. 
 
 % # * # * * * 
 
 Then Aristotle observing Bacon advance with 
 a furious mien, drew his bow to the head, and 
 let fly his arrow; which missed the valiant Mo- 
 dern, and went hizzing over his head. But Des 
 Cartes it hit : the steel point quickly found a 
 defect in his head-piece; it pierced the leather and 
 the pasteboard, and went in at his right eye. 
 The torture of the pain whirled the valiant bow- 
 man round, till death, like a star of superior 
 influence, drew him into his own vortex. 
 
 w w w w w w flt* ^r 
 
 qt 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 $ 
 
 Ingens hiatus 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 hie in MS. 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * 9p * 
 
 when Homer appeared at the head of the cavalry, 
 mounted on a furious horse, with difficulty ma- 
 
 * Dr. Harvey. It was not thought proper to name 
 Tiis antagonist, but only to intimated that he was wounded. 
 Other moderns are spared by the hiatus that follows, 
 probably for similar reasons. Hawkes. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 2J\ 
 
 naged by the rider himself, but which no other 
 mortal durst approach. He rode among the 
 enemy's ranks, and bore down all before him. 
 Say, goddess, whom he slew first and whom he 
 slew last. First, Gondibert * advanced against 
 him, clad in heavy armour, and mounted on a 
 staid sober gelding, not so famed for his speed, 
 as his docility in kneeling, whenever his rider 
 would mount or alight. He had made a vow to 
 Pallas, that he would never leave the field, till 
 he had spoiled Homer of his armourf- : Madman | 
 who had never once seen the wearer, nor under- 
 stood his strength. Him Komer overthrew, 
 horse and man, to the ground; there to be 
 trampled and choked in the dirt. Then with a 
 long spear he slew Denham, a stout Modern; 
 who from his father's side derived his lineage 
 from Apollo, but his mother was of mortal racej # 
 He fell and bit the earth. The celestial part 
 Apollo took, and made its -a star; but the ter- 
 r estial lay wallowing upon the ground. Then 
 
 * An heroic poem by Sir William Davenant, in stanzas 
 of four lines. Hawkes. 
 
 f Vid' Homer. i 
 
 % Sir John Denham's poems ar* very unequal, extremely 
 good, and very indifferent; so that his detractors said, he 
 -was not the real author of Cooper's Hill. 
 
 N 4 
 
£72 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 Homer slew Wesley # , with a kick of his horse's 
 heel. He took Perault by mighty force, out of 
 his saddle; then hurled him at Fontenelle; with 
 the same blow dashing out both their brains. 
 
 On the left wing of the horse, Virgil appeared, 
 in shining armour, completely fitted to his body. 
 He was mounted on a dapple-grey steed, the 
 slowness of whose pace was an effect of the 
 highest mettle and vigour. He cast his eye on 
 the adverse wing, with a desire to find an object 
 "worthy of valour ; when, behold, upon a sorrel 
 gelding of a monstrous size, appeared a foe, 
 issuing from among the thickest of the enemy's 
 squadrons : but his speed was less than his noise ; 
 for his horse, old and lean, spent the drags of 
 his strength in a high trot; which, though it 
 made slow advances, yet caused a loud clashing 
 of his armour, terrible to hear. The two cava- 
 liers had now approached within the throw of a 
 lance ; when the stranger desired a parley, and 
 lifting up the vizor of his helmet, a face hardly 
 appeared from within ; which, after a pause, was 
 known for that of the renowned Dryden. The 
 brave Ancient suddenly started, as one possessed 
 with surprise and disappointment together: for 
 
 * Mr. Wesley, who wrote the Life of Christ in verse, 
 &c. Hatches. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 27S 
 
 the helmet was nine times too large for the head ; 
 which appeared situate far in the hinder part, 
 even like the lady in a lobster, or like a mouse 
 under a canopy of state, or like a shrivelled beau 
 from within the pent-house of a modern periwig: 
 and the voice was suited to the visage, sounding 
 weak and remote. Dryden in a long harrague,. 
 soothed up the good /Indent ; called him Father; 
 and, by a large deduction of genealogies, made 
 it plainly appear, that they were nearly related. 
 Then he humbly proposed an exchange of ar- 
 mour, as a lasting mark of hospitality between 
 them. Virgil consented, (for the goddess Diffi- 
 dence came unseen, and cast a mist before his 
 ej T es), though his was of gold, and cost a hun- 
 dred beeves # , the other's but of rusty iron* 
 However, this glittering armour became the 
 Modern yet worse than his own.; Then they 
 agreed to exchange horses; but when it came to 
 the trial,, Jttryden was afraid, and utterly unable 
 to mount. * # # " * 
 
 •• *■ * ♦*' Alter hia- 
 
 * * * ♦■ tusinMS. 
 
 # # # Lucan appeared upon 
 a. fiery horse, of admirable shape, but head- 
 strong, bearing the rider where he listed, over 
 the field. He made a mighty slaughter among, 
 
 * Vid. Homer. 
 N 5 
 
£74 TUJS BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 the enemy's horse ; which destruction to stop, 
 Blackmore, a famous Modern, (but one of the 
 mercenaries)) strenuously opposed himself, and 
 darted his javelin with a strong hand ; which fall- 
 ing short of its mark, struck deep in the earth. 
 Then Lucan threw a lance; but JEseulapius 
 came unseen, and turned off the point*. " Brave 
 Modern" said Lucan, " I perceive some god 
 protects you ; for never did my arm so deceive 
 me before. But what mortal can contend with 
 a god ? Therefore let us fight no longer, but 
 present gifts to each other." Lucan then bestow- 
 ed the Modern a pair of spurs, and Black more 
 gave Lucan a bridle. * * # 
 
 # # * * # p auca 
 
 * # # # _ # desunt. 
 Creech : but the goddess Dulness took a v cloud, 
 formed into the shape of Horace, armed and 
 mounted, and placed it in a flying posture before 
 him. Glad was the cavalier to begin a combat 
 with a flying foe, and pursued the image, threat- 
 ening loud; till at last it led him to the peaceful 
 bower of his father Ogleby; by whom he was 
 disarmed, and assigned to his repose. 
 
 Then Pindar slew — -, and , and Old- 
 
 * His skill as a physician atoned for his dulness as a 
 poet. Hawkes. 
 
_ 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 275 
 
 ham, and , and Afra and Amazon*, Jight 
 
 of foot ; never advancing in a direct line, but 
 wheeling with incredible agility and force, he 
 made a terrible slaughter among the enemy's 
 light-horse. Him when Cowley observed, his 
 generous heart burnt within him, and he ad- 
 vanced against the fierce Ancient , imitating his 
 address, his pace and career, as well as the vigour 
 of his horse, and his own skill, would allow, 
 When the two cavaliers had approached within 
 the length of three javelins ; first Cowley threw a 
 lance, which missed Pindar, and passed into the 
 enemy's ranks, fell ineffectual to the ground. 
 Then Pindar darted' a javelin, so large and 
 weighty, that scarce a dozen cavaliers, as cavaliers 
 are in our degenerate days, could raise it from 
 the ground; yet he threw it with ease, and it 
 went, by an unerring hand, singing through the 
 air; nor could the Modern have avoided present 
 death, if he had not luckily opposed the shield 
 that had been given him by Venusf . And now 
 both heroes drew their swords. But the Modem 
 was so aghast and disordered, that he knew not 
 where he was; his shield dropped from his hands; 
 thrice he fled, and thrice he could not escape. 
 
 * Mrs. Afra Behn, author of many plays, novels, and 
 poems. Hawkes. 
 f His poem called the Mistress. Hazvkes. 
 
£76 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 At last he turned, and, lifting up his hands in 
 the posture of a suppliant, i( Godlike Pindar!" 
 said he, " spare my life, and possess my horse, 
 with these arms, besides the ransom which my 
 friends will give, when they hear I am alive, 
 and your prisoner/' " Dog" said Pindar, u let 
 your ransom stay with your friends: but your 
 carcase shall be left for the fowls of the air, 
 and the beasts of the field." With that he raised 
 his sword, and, with a mighty stroke, cleft the 
 wretched Modern in twain, the sword pursuing 
 the blow; and one half lay panting on the 
 ground, to be trod in pieces by the horses feet, 
 the other half was borne by the frighted steed 
 thro' the field. This Venus took # , and washed it 
 seven times in ambrosia ; then struck it thrice 
 with a sprig of amaranth ; upon which the 
 leather grew round and soft, and the leaves 
 turned into feathers; and being gilded before, 
 continued gilded still; so it became a dove, and 
 she harnessed it to her chariot. # # 
 
 f I do not approve the author's judgment in this; fori 
 think Cowley's Pindarics are much preferable to his 
 Mistress. 
 
 It may however be considered, that Cowley's Pindarics 
 were but copies of which Pindar was the original. Before 
 Pindar; therefore his Pindarics might fall, and his Mis- 
 tress be preserved as properly his own. Hawkcs* 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 277 
 
 # * * * * Hiatus talde 
 
 # # # * * deflendusinMS. 
 Day being far spent, and the numerous forces 
 
 of the modems half inclining to a retreat, there 
 issued forth from a squadron of their htavy-arm- 
 edfoot*, a captain, whose name was Bentley; 
 the most deformed of all the Moderns; tall, but 
 without shape or comeliness ; large, but without 
 strength or proportion. His armour was patched 
 up of a thousand incoherent pieces; and the 
 sound of it, as he marched, was loud and dry, 
 like that made by the fall of a sheet of lead, 
 which an Etesian wind blows suddenly down 
 from the roof of some steeple. His helmet was 
 of old rusty iron ; but the vizor was brass, which, 
 tainted by his breath, corrupted into copperas, 
 nor wanted gall from the same fountain; so that, 
 whenever provoked by anger or labour, an atra- 
 mentous quality of most malignant nature was 
 seen to distill from his lips. In his right hand he 
 grasped a flailf, and (that he might never be un- 
 
 * The episode of Bentley and Wotton. 
 
 As the account of the battle of the books is an allegorical 
 representation of Sir William Temple's essa}', in which 
 the Ancients are opposed to the Moderns, the account of 
 of Bentley and Wotton is called an episode, and their 
 intrusion represented as an under action. Hawkes. 
 
 f The person here spoken of, is famous for letting fly 
 at every body without distinction, and using mean and 
 foul scurrilities. 
 
£78 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 provided of an offensive weapon) a vessel full of 
 ordure in his left. Thus completely armed, he 
 advanced with a slow and heavy pace, where the 
 Modern chiefs were holding a consult upon the 
 sum of things; who, as he came onwards, laugh- 
 ed to behold his crooked leg, and hump shoulder, 
 which his boot and armour vainly endeavouring 
 to hide, were forced to comply with, and expose. 
 The generals made use of him for his talent of 
 railing; which, kept within government, proved 
 frequently of great service to their cause; but at 
 other times did more mischief than good; for at 
 the least touch of offence, and often without 
 any at all, he would, like a wounded elephant, 
 convert it against his leaders. Such, at this 
 juncture was the disposition of Bentley, grieved 
 to see the enemy prevail, and dissatisfied with 
 every body's conduct but his own. He humbly 
 gave the Modern generals to understand, that he 
 conceived, with great submission, they were all 
 a pack of rogues, and fools, and son* of zohores, 
 and d — n'd cowards, and confounded loggerheads, 
 and illiterate wkelps 9 and nonsensical scoundrels; 
 that if himself had been constituted general, 
 those presumptuous dogs* the Ancients would 
 long before this have been beaten out of the 
 field. " You," said he, " sit here idle ; but when 
 I, or any other valiant Modem, kill an enemy, 
 
 * Vid. Homer de Thersite. 
 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 279 
 
 you are sure to seize the spoil. But I will n t 
 march one foot against the foe, till you all s v?ar 
 to me, that whomever I take or kill, his arms I 
 shall quietly possess." Bentley having spoken 
 thus, Scaliger bestowing him a sour look ; 
 " Miscreant prater," said he, " eloquent only in 
 thine own eyes, thou railest without wit, or 
 truth, or discretion. The malignity of thy 
 temper perverteth nature, thy learning makes thee 
 more barbarous ; thy study of humanity, more 
 inhuman ; they converse "among poets, more 
 grove/ling, miry, and dull. All arts of civilizing 
 others, render thee rude and untra table ; courts 
 have taught thee ill manners, and polite conver- 
 sation has finished thee a pedant. Besides, a 
 greater coward burdeneth not the army. But 
 never despond ; 1 pass my word, whatever spoil 
 thou takest, shall certainly be thy own; though, 
 I hope, that vile carcase will first become a prey 
 to kites and worms." 
 
 Bentley durst not reply; but half choaked 
 with spleen and rage, withdrew in full resolution 
 of performing some great achievement. With 
 him, for his aid and companion, he took his 
 beloved Wotton ; resolving, by policy or surprise, 
 to attempt some neglected quarter of the Ancients 
 array. They began their march over carcases of 
 their slaughtered friends ; then to the right of 
 their own forces ; then wheeled northward, till 
 they came to Aldrovandus's tomb ; which they 
 
280 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 passed on the side of the declining sun. And 
 now they arrived with fear towards the enemy's 
 out-guards; looking about, if haply they might 
 spy the quarters of the wounded, or some strang- 
 ling sleepers, unarmed and remote from the 
 rest. As when two mungrel curs, whom native 
 greediness and domestic want provoke and join in 
 partnership, though fearful, nightly to invade 
 the folds of some rich grazier; they, with tails 
 depressed and lolling tongues, creep soft and slow : 
 mean while, the conscious moon, now in her zenith, 
 on their guilty heads darts perpendicular rays; 
 nor dare they bark, though much provoked at 
 her refulgent visage, whether seen in puddle 
 by reflection, or in sphere direct ; but one sur~. 
 veys the region round, while t'other scouts the 
 plain, if happily to discover, at distance from the 
 flock, some carcase half devoured, the refuse of 
 gorged wolves, or omnious ravens : so marched 
 this lovely, loving pair of friends, nor with less 
 fear and circumspection'; when, at distance, they 
 might perceive two shining suits of armour, 
 hanging upon an oak, and the owners not far 
 off in a profound sleep. The two friends drew 
 lots, and the pursuing of this adventure fell to 
 Bentley. On he went, and in his van Confusion 
 and Amaze, while Horror and Affright brought 
 up the rear. As he came near, behold two 
 heroes of the Ancients army, Phalaris and JEsop, 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 281 
 
 lay fast asleep. Bentley would fain have dispatch- 
 ed them both ; and, stealing close, aimed his flail 
 at Phalaris's breast. But then the goddess 
 Affright interposing, caught the Modern in her 
 icy arms, and dragged him from the danger she 
 foresaw ; for both the dormant heroes happened 
 to turn at the same instant, though soundly 
 sleeping, and busy in a dream*. For Phalaris 
 wasjust that minute dreaming, how a most vile 
 poetaster had lampooned him, and how he had got 
 him roaring in his bull. And iEsop dreamed, 
 that as he and the Ancient chiefs were lying on 
 the ground, a wild ass broke loose, ran about 
 trampling and kicking, and dunging in their 
 faces. Bentley, leaving the two heroes asleep, 
 seized on both their armours, and withdrew in 
 quest of his darling Wotton. 
 
 He, in the mean time, had wandered long in 
 search of some enterprise, till at length he 
 arrived at a small rivulet, that issued from'a foun- 
 tain hard by, called in the language of mortal 
 men, Helican. Here he stopped, and, parched 
 with thirst, resolved to allay it in this limpid 
 stream. Thrice with profane hands he essayed 
 to raise the water to his lips, and thrice it slipp- 
 ed all through his fingers. Then he stooped 
 
 *■ This is according to Homer, who tells the dreams of 
 those who who were killed in their sleep. 
 
tSQ THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 prone on his breast ; but ere his mouth had kiss- 
 ed the liquid crystal, Apollo came, and in the 
 channel held his shield betwixt the Modern and 
 the fountain, so that he drew up nothing but 
 mud. For although no fountain on earth can 
 compare with the clearness of Helicon, yet there 
 lies at bottom a thick sediment of slime and mud: 
 for so Apollo begged of Jupiter, as a punish- 
 ment to those who durst attempt to taste it with 
 unhallowed lips, and for a lesson to all, not to 
 draw too deep, or far from the spring. 
 
 At the fountain-head, Wotton discerned two 
 heroes. The one he could not distinguish; but 
 the other was soon known for Temple, general of 
 the allies to the Ancients. His back was turned, 
 and he was employed ixx drinking large draughts 
 in his helmet, from the fountain, where he had 
 withdrawn himself to rest from the toils of the 
 war. Wotton observing hirn, with quaking 
 knees and trembling hands spoke thus to himself, 
 " Oh, that I could kill this destroyer of our 
 army ! what renown should I purchase among 
 the chiefs? But to issue out against him, man 
 against man, shield against shield, and lance 
 against lance*, what Modern of us dare ? for he 
 fights like a god, and Pallas or Apollo are ever 
 at his elbow. But, Oh, Mother! if what fame 
 
 * VicU. Homer. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. £83 
 
 reports be true, that I am the son of so great a 
 goddess, grant me to hit Temple with this lance, 
 that the stroke may send him to hell, and that 
 I may return in safety and triumph, laden with 
 his spoils." The first part of his prayer the godb 
 granted, at the intercession of his mother, and 
 of Momus ; but the rest, by a perverse wind, 
 sent from Fate, was scattered in the air. Then 
 Wotton grasped his lance, and brandishing it 
 thrice over his head, darted it with all his might; 
 the goddess his mother, at the same time, adding 
 strength to his arm. Away the lance went 
 hizzing, and reached even to the belt of the 
 averted Ancient ; upon which lightly grasing, 
 it fell to the ground. Temple neither felt the 
 weapon touch him, nor heard it fail. And 
 Wotton might have escaped to his army, with 
 the honour of having emitted his lauce against 
 so great a leader unrevenged ; but Apollo enrag- 
 ed that a javelin flung by the assistance of so 
 foul a goddess, should pollute his fountain, put 
 on the shape of — , and softly came to young 
 Boyle, who then accompanied Temple : he 
 pointed first to the lance, then to the distant 
 Modem that flung it, and commanded the young 
 hero to take immediate revenge. Boyle, clad in 
 a suit of armour which had been given him by all 
 
284 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOR?. 
 
 the gods*, immediately advanced against the 
 trembling foe, who now fled before him. Asa 
 young lion in the Libyan plains, or Arabian 
 Desart, sent by his aged sire to hunt for prey, 
 or health, or exercise; he scours along, wishing 
 to meet some tyger from the mountains, or a 
 furious boar; if chance a wild ass, with brayings 
 importune, affronts his ear; the generous beast, 
 though loathing to distain his claws with blood 
 so vile, yet much provoked at the offensive 
 noise ; which echo, foolish nymph, like her ill* 
 judging sex, repeats much louder, and with more 
 delight than Philomela's song; he vindicates the 
 honour of the forest, and hunts the noisy, long- 
 ear^d animal : so Wotton fled, so Boyle pursued. 
 But Wotton, heavy-armed, and slow of too 
 began to slack his course ; when his lover Ben tie 
 appeared, returning laden with the spoils of th 
 tvvosleepin^ Ancients, .Boyle observed him well 
 and soon discovering the helmet and shield of 
 Phalaris, his friend, both which he had lately, 
 with his own hands, new polished and gilded; 
 rage sparkled in his eyes ; and leaving his pursuit 
 after Wotton, he furiously rushed on against 
 
 \ 
 
 .e 
 
 I; 
 
 * Boyle was assisted in this dispute by Dean Aldric 
 Dr. Atterbury, afterwards Bishop of Rochester, and oth< 
 persons at Oxford, celebrated for their genius and thei 
 learning, than called the Christ Church-wits. Hawkes, 
 
 i 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE EOOKS. 2S5 
 
 this new approacher. Fain would he be reveng- 
 ed on both; but both now fled different ways. 
 i\nd as a woman in a little house, that gets a 
 painful livelihood by spinning*; if chance her 
 geese be scattered o'er the common, she courses 
 Found the plain from side to side, compelling 
 here and there the stragglers to the flock; they 
 cackle loud, and flutter o'er the champain : so 
 Boyle pursued, so fled this pair of friends. 
 Finding at length their flight was vain, they 
 bravely joined, and drew themselves in phalanx. 
 First, Bentley threw a spear with all his force, 
 hoping to pierce the enemy's breast. But Pallas 
 came unseen, and in the air took off the point, 
 and clapped on one of iead\ which, after a dead 
 'bang against the enemy's shield, fell blunted to 
 the ground. Then Boyle, observing well his time, 
 took up a lance of wondrous length and sharp- 
 ness ; and as this pair of friends compacted stood 
 close side to side, he wheeled him to the right, 
 and, with unusual force, darted the weapon. 
 Bentley saw his fate approach; and flanking 
 down his arms close to his ribs, hoping to save 
 his body, in went the point, passing through 
 arm and side: nor stopt, or spent its force, till 
 
 * This is also after the manner of Homer; the woman's 
 getting a painful livelihood by spinning, has nothing to do 
 with the similitude, nor would be excusable without such 
 authority. 
 
2R6 THE BATTLE OF THE BOO'KS. 
 
 it had also pierced the valiant Wotton ; who 
 going to sustain his dying friend, shared 
 his fate. As when a skilful cook has trussed a 
 brace of woodcocks, he, with iron skewer pierces 
 the tender sides of both, their legs and wings 
 close pinioned to their ribs : so was this pair of 
 friends transfixed, till down they fell, joined in 
 their lives, joined in their deaths ; so closely 
 joined, that Charon would mistake them both 
 for one, and waft them over Sty* for half his 
 fare. Farewell, beloved, loving pair ; few equals 
 have you left behind : and happy and immortal 
 shall you be, if all my wit and eloquence can 
 make you. 
 And, now 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 Desunt ccztera. 
 
A 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 CONCERNING THE MECHANICAL OPERATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SPIRIT, 
 
 IN A 
 
 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 
 
 A 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
THE 
 
 BOOKSELLER'S 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE following discourse came into my hands 
 perfect and entire: but there being several 
 things in it, which the present age would not 
 very well bear, I kept it by me some years, 
 resolving it should never see the light. At 
 length, by the advice and assistance of a judicious 
 friend, I retrenched those parts that might give 
 most offence, and have now ventured to publish 
 the remainder. Concerning the author, I am 
 wholly ignorant; neither can I conjecture, whe- 
 ther it be the same with that of the two fore- 
 going pieces, the original having been sent me 
 at a different time, and in a different hand. The 
 learned reader will better determine, to whose 
 judgment I entirely submit it. 
 
DISCOURSE 
 
 CONCERNING THE MECHANICAL OPERATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SPIRIT, &c* 
 
 For T. TL Esquire, at his Chambers in the Academy 
 of the Beaux Esprits in New-Holland. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 AT is now a good while since I have had in my 
 head something, not only very material, but 
 absolutely necessary to my health, that the world 
 
 * This discourse is not altogether equal to the two 
 former, the best parts of it being omitted; whether the 
 bookseller's account be true that he durst not print the 
 Test, I know not, nor indeed is it easy to determine, 
 whether he may be rely'd on, in any thing he says of 
 this, or the former treatises, only as to the time they were 
 : writ in ; which, however, appears more from the discourses 
 themselves than his relation. 
 
 o 
 
 
£90 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 should be informed in. For, to tell you a secret, 
 I am able to contain it no longer. However, I 
 have been perplexed for some time, to resolve 
 what would be the most proper form to send it 
 abroad in. To which end, I have been three days 
 coursing thro' Westminster-Hall, and St. Paul's 
 Church-yard, and Fleet-street, to peruse titles; 
 and, I do not find any which holds so general a 
 vogue, as that of A Letter to a Friend: nothing 
 is more common than to meet with long epistles 
 addressed to persons and places, where, at first 
 thinking, one would be apt to imagine it not 
 altogether so necessary or convenient ; such as, 
 a neighbour at next door, a mortal enemy, a perfect 
 stranger, or a person of quality in the clouds; 
 and these upon subjects in appearance, the least 
 proper for convey anceby the post ; as, long schemes 
 in Philosophy ; dark and wonderful Mysteries of 
 State-, Laborious Dissertations in Criticism and 
 Philosophy ; Advice to Parliaments, and the like. 
 Now, Sir, to proceed after the method in 
 present wear. (For let me say what I will to the 
 contrary, I am afraid you will publish this Letter^ 
 as soon as ever it comes to your hands.) I desire 
 you will be my witness to the world, how careless 
 and sudden a scribble it has been ; that it was bu 
 yesterday, when you and I began accidental! 
 to fall into discourse on this matter; that 
 was not very well, when we parted; that th 
 

 A FRAGMENT. £J)1 
 
 post is in such haste, I have had no manner of 
 time to digest it into order, or correct the style; 
 and if any other, modern excuses, for haste and 
 negligence shall occur to you in reading, I beg 
 you to insert them, faithfully promising they 
 shall be thankfully acknowledged. 
 
 Pray, Sir, in your next letter to the Iroquois 
 Virtuosi, do me the favour to present my humble 
 service to that illustrious body, and assure them, 
 I shall send an account of those phenomena, 
 as soon as we can determine them at Gresham. 
 
 I have not had a line from the Literati of 
 Tobinambou, these three last ordinaries. 
 
 And now, Sir, having dispatched what I had 
 to say of forms, or of business, let me intreat, 
 you will suffer me to proceed upon my subject; 
 and to pardon me, if I make no farther use of 
 the epistolary style, till I come to conclude. 
 
 SECT. L 
 
 'TIS recorded of Mahomet, that upon a visit he 
 was going to pay in Paradise, he had an offer 
 of several vehicles to conduct him upwards ; as 
 fiery chariots, wing'd horses, and celestial sedans : 
 
 o 2 
 
€ 2Q% A FRAGMENT. 
 
 but he refused them all, and would be born t 
 Heaven upon nothing but his ass. Now, this nidi 
 nation of Mahomet , as singular as it seems, hath 
 been since taken up by a great number of devout 
 Christians^ and doubtless, with very good reason. 
 For, since that Arabian is known to have borrow 
 ed a moiety of his religious system from the 
 Christian faith, it is but just he should pay repri« 
 sals to such as would challenge them, whereir 
 the good people of England, to do them al 
 right, have not been backward. For, tho' there 
 is not any other nation in the world, so plentiful] 
 provided with carriages for that journey, either 
 as to safety, or ease ; yet there are abundance 
 of us, who will not be satisfied with any other 
 machine, beside this of Mahomet. 
 
 For my own part, I must confess to bear a 
 very singular respect to this animal, by whom [ 
 take human nature to be most admirably held 
 forth in all its qualities as well as operations : 
 And therefore whatever in my small reading 
 occurs, concerning this our fellow-creature, I do 
 never fail to set it down, by way of common- 
 place; and when I have occasion to write 
 upon human reason, politicks, eloquence, or 
 knowledge; I lay my memorandums before me, 
 and insert them with a wonderful facility of 
 application. However, among all the quali- 
 fications ascribed to this distinguished brute, by 
 
A FRAGMENT. £93 
 
 antient or modern authors, I cannot remember 
 this talent of bearing his rider to heaven, has 
 been recorded for a part of his character, except 
 in the two examples mentioned already ; there- 
 fore, I conceive the methods of this art to be a 
 point of useful knowledge in very few hands, 
 and which the learned world would gladly be 
 better informed in: this is what I have undertaken 
 to perform in the following discourse. For, 
 towards the operation already mentioned, many 
 peculiar properties are required, both in the 
 rider and the ass; which I shall endeavour to 
 set in. as clear a light as I can. 
 
 But, because I am resolved, by all means, to 
 avoid giving offence to any party whatever ; I 
 will leave off discoursing so closely to the letter 
 as I have hitherto done, and go on for the future 
 by way of allegory, tho' in such a manner, that 
 the judicious reader may, without much strain- 
 ing, make his applications as often as he shall 
 think fit. Therefore, if you please, from hence 
 forward, instead of the term, ass, we shall make 
 use of gifted, or enlightned teacher; and the 
 word rider, we will exchange for that of fanatic 
 auditory, or any other denomination of the like 
 import. Having settled this weighty point, 
 the great subject of enquiry before us, is to 
 examine, by what methods this teacher arrives 
 at his Gifts, or Spirit, or Light; and by what 
 o 3 
 
£94 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 intercourse between him and his assembly, it is 
 cultivated and supported. 
 
 In all my writings, I have had constant regard 
 to this great end, not to suit and apply them to 
 particular occasions and circumstances of time, 
 of place, or of person; but to calculate them 
 for universal nature, and mankind in general. 
 And of such catholick use, I esteem this present 
 disquisition : for I do not remember any other 
 temper of body, or quality of mind, wherein all 
 nations and ages of the world have so unani- 
 mously agreed, as that of afanatick strain, or 
 tincture of enthusiasm ; which improved by 
 certain persons or societies of men, and by them 
 practised upon the rest, has been able to produce 
 revolutions of the greatest figure in history; 
 as will soon appear to those who know any things 
 of Arabia, Persia, India, or China, of Morocco 
 and Peru., Farther, it has possessed as great a 
 power in the kingdom of knowledge, where it is 
 hard -to assign one art or science, which has not 
 annexed to it some fanatick branch : such. are 
 the Philosopher's Stone ;* the Grand Elixir ; the 
 Planetary Worlds ; the Squaring of the Circle ; 
 the Summum Bonum; Utopian Common-wealths; 
 with some others of less or subordinate note ; 
 which all serve for nothing else, but to employ 
 
 * Some writers hold them for the same, others not. 
 
A FRAGMENT. %Q5 
 
 or amuse this grain of enthusiasm, dealt into 
 every composition. 
 
 But, if this plant has found a root in the fields 
 of Empire, and of knowledge, it has fixed deeper, 
 and spread yet farther upon holy ground. 
 Wherein, though it hath passed under the general 
 name of Enthusiasm, and perhaps arisen from 
 the same original, yet hath it produced certain 
 branches of a very different nature, however often 
 mistaken for each other. The word in its 
 universal acceptation, may be defined, A lifting 
 up of the soul or its faculties above matter. 
 This description will hold good in general ; but 
 I am only to understand it, as applied to Religion; 
 wherein there are three general ways of ejacu- 
 lating the soul, or transporting it beyond the 
 sphere of matter. The first, is the immediate 
 act of God, and is called Prophecy or Inspiration. 
 The second, is the immediate act of the devil, 
 and is termed Possession. The third, is the 
 product of natural causes, the effect of strong 
 imagination, spleen, violent anger, fear, grief, 
 pain, and the like. These three have been 
 abundantly treated on by authors, and therefore 
 shall not employ my enquiry. But, the fourth 
 method of Religious Enthusiasm, or launching 
 out of the soul, as it is purely an effect of artifice 
 and mechanick operation, has been sparingly 
 handled, or not at all, by any writer; because 
 o 4 
 
296 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 tho' it is an art of great antiquity, yet having 
 been confined to few persons, it long wanted 
 those advancements and refinements, which it 
 afterwards met with, since it has grown so 
 epidemick, and fallen into so many cultivating 
 hands. 
 
 It is therefore upon this mechanical operation 
 of the Spirit, that I mean to treat, as it is at 
 present performed by our British workmen. I 
 shall deliver to the reader the result of many 
 judicious observations upon the matter ; tracing, 
 as near as I can, the whole course and method 
 of this trade, producing parallel instances, and 
 relating certain discoveries that have luckily 
 fallen in my way. 
 
 I have said that there is one branch of Religious 
 Enthusiasm, which is purely an effect of nature; 
 whereas, the part I mean to handle, is wholy an 
 effect of art, which, however, is inclined to 
 work upon certain natures and constitutions, 
 more than others. Besides, there is many an 
 operation, which in its original, was purely an 
 artifice, but through a long succession of ages, 
 hath grown to be natural. Hippocrates tells us, 
 that among our ancestors, the Scythians, there 
 was a nation called,* Longheads, which at first 
 began by a custom among midwives and nurses 
 
 Macrocephali, 
 
A FRAGMENT; 297 
 
 of molding, and squeezing, and bracing up the 
 heads of infants; by which means, nature shut 
 out at one passage, was forced to seek another, 
 and finding room above, shot upwards, in the 
 form of a sugar-loaf; and being diverted that 
 way, for some generations, at last found it out 
 of herself, needing no assistance from the 
 nurse's hand. This was the original of the 
 Scythian Longheads, and thus did custom, from 
 being a second nature, proceed to be a first. 
 To all which, there is something very analogous 
 among us of this nation, w r ho are the undoubted 
 posterity of that refined people. For, in the age 
 of our fathers, there arose a generation of men 
 in this island, called Round-heads, whose race is 
 now spread over three kingdoms, yet in its 
 beginning, was meerly an operation of art, 
 produced by a pair of scissars, a squeeze of the 
 face, and a black cap. These heads, thus form- 
 ed into a perfect sphere in all assemblies, were- 
 most exposed to the view of the female sort, 
 which did influence their conceptions so effec- 
 tually, that nature, at last, took the hint, anck 
 did it of her self; so that a Round-head has 
 been ever since as familiar a sight among us, as 
 a Longhead among the Scythians. 
 
 Upon these examples, and others easy to 
 produce, I desire thecuriousreader to distinguish 
 first between an effect grown from art into 
 
 Q 5 
 
293 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 nature, and one that is natural from its begin- 
 ning ; Secondly between an effect wholly 
 natural, and one which has only a natural foun- 
 dation, but where the superstructure is entirely 
 artificial. For, the first and the last of these, 
 I understand to come within the districts of my 
 subject. And having obtained these allowances, 
 they will serve to remove any objections that 
 may be raised, hereafter against what I shall 
 advance* 
 
 The practitioners of this famous art, proceed 
 in general upon the following fundamental; 
 that, the corruption of the senses is the generation 
 of the spirit : because the senses in men are so 
 many avenues to the fort of reason, which in 
 this operation is wholly blocked up. All endea- 
 vours must be therefore used, either to divert, 
 bind up, stupify, fluster, and amuse the senses, 
 or else to justle them out of their stations; 
 and while they are either absent, or otherwise 
 employed or engaged in a civil war against each 
 other, the spirit enters and performs its part. 
 
 Now, the usual methods of managing the 
 senses upon such conjunctures, are what I shall 
 be very particular in delivering, as far as it is 
 lawful for me to do ; but having had the honour 
 to be initiated into the mysteries of every society, 
 I desire to be excused from divulging any rite&, 
 wherein the profane must have no part. 
 
A FRAGMENT. 2QQ 
 
 But here, before I can proceed farther, a very 
 dangerous objection must, if possible, be remov- 
 ed : for it is positively denied by certain criticks, 
 that the spirit can by any means be introduced 
 into an assembly of modern saints; the disparity 
 being so great in man}^ material circumstances, 
 between the primitive way of inspiration, and 
 that which is practised in the present age. This 
 they pretend to prove from the second chapter 
 of the Acts, where comparing both, it appears ; 
 First, that the Apostles were gathered together 
 with one accord in one place; by which is meant, 
 an universal agreement in opinion, and form of 
 worship ; a harmony (say they) so far from 
 being found between any two conventicles 
 among us, that it is in vain to expect it between 
 any two heads in the same. Secondly, the Spirit 
 instructed the apostles in the gift of speaking 
 jseveral languages; a knowledge so remote from 
 our dealers in this art, that they neither under- 
 stand propriety of words, or phrases in their own. 
 Lastly, (say these objectors) the modern artists do 
 utterly exclude all approaches of the Spirit, and 
 bar up its antient way of entering, by covering 
 themselves so close, and so industriously a-top. 
 For, they will needs have it as a point clearly 
 gained, that the cloven tongues never sat upon 
 the apostles' heads, while their hats were on. 
 
 Now, the force of these objections, seems 
 06 
 
300 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 
 to consist in the different acceptation of the 
 word, Spirit ; which, if it be understood for a 
 supernatural assistance, approaching from 
 without, the objectors have reason, and their 
 assertions may be allowed; but the Spirit we 
 treat of here, proceeding entirely from within, 
 the argument of these adversaries is wholly 
 eluded. And upon the same account, our 
 modern artificers, find it an expedient of abso- 
 lute necessity, to cover their heads as close as 
 they can, in order to prevent perspiration, than 
 which, nothing is observed to be a greater 
 splendor of mechanick light, as we may, perhaps, 
 farther shew in convenient place. 
 
 To proceed therefore upon the phenomenon 
 of Spiritual Mechanism, it is here to be noted, 
 that in forming and working up the Spirit, the 
 assembly has a considerable share, as well as the 
 preacher. The method of this arcanum, is as 
 follows: they violently strain their eye-balls 
 inward, half closing the lids; then, as they sit, 
 they are in a perpetual motion of see-saw, 
 making long hums at proper periods, and 
 continuing the sound at equal height, chusing 
 their time in those intermissions, while the 
 preacher is at ebb. Neither is this practice, in 
 any part of it, so singular and improbable, as 
 not to be traced in distant regions, from reading 
 
A FRAGMENT. 301 
 
 and observation. For, first, the *Jauguis, or 
 enlightened saints of India, see all their visions, 
 by help of an acquired straining and pressure of 
 the eyes. Secondly the art of seesaw on a beam, 
 and swinging by session upon a cord, in order 
 to raise artificial extasies, hath been derived to 
 us, from our f Scythian ancestors, where it is 
 practised at this day, among the women* 
 Lastly the whole proceeding, as I have here 
 related it, is performed by the natives of Ireland, 
 with a considerable improvement ; and it is 
 granted, that this noble nation hath, of all others, 
 admitted fewer corruptions, and degenerated 
 least from the purity of the old Tartars. Now 
 it is usual for a knot of Irish, men and women, 
 to abstract themselves from matter, bind up all 
 their senses, grow visionary and spiritual, by 
 influence of a short pipe of tobacco, handed 
 round the company; each preserving the smoke 
 in his mouth, till it comes again to his turn to 
 take in fresh ; at the same time, there is a con- 
 cert of a continued gentle hum, repeated and 
 renewed by instinct, as occasion requires, and 
 they move their bodies up and down, to a degree, 
 that sometimes their heads and points lie parallel 
 to the horizon. Meanwhile you may observe 
 
 • Bernier, Mem. de Mogol. 
 f Guagniai Hist, Sarmat. 
 
300, A FRAGMENT. 
 
 their eyes turnd up in the posture of one who 
 endeavours to keep himself awake; by which, 
 and many other symptoms among them, it 
 manifestly appears, that the reasoning faculties 
 are all suspended and superseded, that imagi- 
 nation hath usurped the seat, scattering a 
 thousand deliriums over the brain. Returning 
 from this digression, I shall describe the methods 
 by which the Spirit approaches. The eyes being 
 disposed according to art, at first, you can see 
 nothing: but after a short pause, a small glim- 
 mering light begins to appear, and dance before 
 you. Then by frequently moving your body 
 up and down, you perceive the vapours to ascend 
 very fast, till you are perfectly dosed and flus- 
 tred like one who drinks too much in a morning. 
 Mean while, the preacher is also at work ; he 
 begins a loud hum, which pierces you quite 
 through; this is immediately returned by the 
 audience, and you find yourself prompted to 
 imitate them, by a meer spontaneous impulse, 
 without knowing what you do. The interstitia 
 are duly filled up by the preacher, to prevent 
 too long a pause, under which the Spirit would 
 soon faint and gro\v languid. 
 
 This is all I am allowed to discover about the 
 progress of the Spirit, w T ith relation to that part, 
 which is born by the assembly; but in the 
 methods of the preacher, to which I now proceed, 
 I shall be more large and particular. 
 
A FRAGMENT. 303 
 
 SECT II. 
 
 YOU will read it very gravely remarked in 
 the books of those illustrious and right eloquent 
 pen-men, the modern travellers, that the fun- 
 damental difference in point of religion, between 
 the wild Indians and us, lies in this ; that we 
 worship God, and they worship the Devil. But> 
 there are certain criticks, who will by no means 
 admit of this distinction; rather believing, that 
 all nations whatsoever, adore the true God > 
 because, they seem to intend their devotions to 
 gome invisible power, of greatest goodness and 
 ability to help them ; which perhaps will take 
 in the brightest attributes ascribed to the 
 Divinity. Others, again, inform us, that 
 those idolaters adore two principles; the 
 principle of good, and that of evil: which 
 indeed, I am apt to look upon as the most 
 universal notion, that mankind, by the meer 
 light of nature, ever entertained of things 
 invisible. How this idea hath been managed 
 by the Indians and us, and with what advantage 
 to the understandings of either, may well 
 deserve to he examined. To me, the difference 
 
304 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 appears little more than this, that they are put 
 oftner upon their knees by their fears, and we 
 by our desires ; that the former set them a 
 praying* and us a cursing. What I applaud 
 them for, is their discretion, in limiting their 
 devotions and their deities to their several 
 districts, nor ever suffering the liturgy of the 
 white god, to cross or interfere with that of the 
 black. Not so with us, who pretending by the 
 lines and measures of our reason, to extend the 
 dominion of one invisible power, and contract 
 that of the other, have discovered a gross 
 ignorance in the natures of good and evil, and 
 most horribly confounded the frontiers of both. 
 After men have lifted up the throne of their 
 divinity to the Ccdum Empyraum, adorned with 
 all such qualities and accomplishments, as 
 themselves seem most to value and possess: 
 after they have sunk their principle of evil to 
 the lowest center, bound him with chains, load^ 
 ed him with curses, furnished him with viler 
 dispositions than any rake-hell of the town, 
 accoutred him with tail, and horns, and huge 
 claws, and sawcer eye; I laugh aloud, to see 
 these reasoners, at the same time, engaged in 
 wise dispute, about certain walks and purlieus, 
 whether they are in the verge of God or the Devil, 
 seriously debating, whether such and such 
 
A FRAGMENT. 305 
 
 influences come into men's mind from above or 
 below, whether certai npassions and affections are 
 guided by the evil spirit or the good : 
 
 Dum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinuin 
 Discernunt avidi 
 
 Thus do men establish a fellowship of Christ 
 with Belial, and such is the analogy they make 
 between cloven tongues, and cloven feet. Of 
 the like nature is the disquisition before us: it 
 hath continued these hundred years an even 
 debate, whether the deportment and the cant 
 of our English enthusiastic preachers, were 
 Possession, or Inspiration, and a world of argu- 
 ment has been drained on either side, perhaps, 
 to little purpose. For, I think, it is in life as 
 in tragedy, where, it is held, a conviction of 
 great defect, both in order and invention, to 
 interpose the assistance of preternal power, 
 without an absolute and last necessity. However, 
 it is a sketch of human vanity, for every 
 individual, to imagine the whole universe is 
 interested in his meanest concern. If he hath 
 got cleanly over a kennel, some angel unseen, 
 descended on purpose to help him by the hand; 
 if he hath knocked his head against a post, it 
 was the devil, for his sins, let loose from hell on 
 purpose to buffet him. Who, that sees a little 
 
506 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 paultry mortal, droning, and dreaming, and 
 drivelling to a multitude, can think it agreeable 
 to common good sense, that either heaven or 
 hell should be put to the trouble of influence or 
 inspection upon what he is about? therefore, I 
 am resolved immediately, to weed this error out 
 of mankind, by making it clear, that this mystery, 
 of vending spiritual gifts is nothing but a trade, 
 acquired by as much instruction, and mastered 
 by equal practice and application, as others are- 
 This will best appear by describing and deducing 
 the whole process of the operation, as variously 
 as it hath fallen under my knowledge or experi- 
 ence . 
 # # # # # 
 
 Here the whole scheme 
 of spiritual Mechanism 
 was deduced and ex- 
 plained, with an appear- 
 ance of great reading and 
 observation, but it was 
 thought neither safe nor 
 convenient to print it. 
 
 #rife i. -rife rife rife 
 
 *fl* •/P" W "W 
 
 Here it may not be amiss to add a few words 
 upon the laudable practice of wearing quilted 
 caps; which is not a matter of meer custom, 
 
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A FRAGMENT. 307 
 
 humour, or fashion, as some would preten^.1, but 
 an institution o£ great sagacity and use : these, 
 when moistened with sweat, stop all pespiration, 
 and by reverberating the heat, prevent the 
 spirit from evaporating any way, but at the 
 mouth ; even as a skilful housewife, that covers 
 her still with a wet clout, for the same reason, 
 and finds the same effect. For, it is the opinion 
 of choice virtuosi, that the brain is only a 
 crowd of little animals, but with teeth and claws 
 extremely sharp, and therefore, cling together 
 in the contexture we behold, like the picture 
 of Hobbes's Leviathan, or like bees in perpendi- 
 cular swarm upon a tree, or like a carrion 
 corrupted into vermin, still preserving the shape 
 and figure of the mother animal. That all 
 invention is formed by the morsure of two or 
 more of these animals, upon certain capillary 
 nerves, which proceed from thence, whereof 
 three branches spread into the tongue, and two 
 into the right hand. They hold also, that these 
 animals are of a constitution extremely cold; 
 that their food is their air we attract, their excre- 
 ment phlegm ; and that what we vulgarly call 
 rheums, and colds, and distillations, is nothing 
 else but an epidemical looseness, to which that 
 little common wealth is very subject, from the 
 climate it lies under. Farther, that nothing 
 else than a violent heat, can disentangle these 
 
308 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 creatures from their hamated station of life, or 
 give them vigour and humour, to imprint the 
 marks of their little teeth. That if the morsure 
 be hexagonal, it produces poetry; the circular 
 gives eloquence : if the bite hath been conical, 
 the person, whose nerve is so affected, shall be 
 disposed to write upon the politicks ; and so of 
 the rest. 
 
 I shall now discourse briefly, by what kind of 
 parctices the voice is best governed, towards the 
 composition and improvement of the Spirit; for 
 without a competent skill in tuning and toning 
 each word and syllable, and letter, to their due 
 cadence, the whole operation is incompleat, 
 misses entirely of its effect on the hearers, and 
 puts the workman himself to continual pains for 
 new supplies, without success. For, it is to be 
 understood, that in the language of the spirti, 
 cant and droning supply the place of sense and 
 reason, in the language of men : because, in 
 spiritual harangues, the disposition of the words 
 according to the art of grammar, hath not the 
 least use, but the skill and influence wholly lie 
 in the choice and cadence of the syllables;, 
 even as a discreet composer, who in setting a 
 song, changes the words and order so often, that 
 he is forced to make it nonsense, before he can 
 make it musick. For this reason it hath been 
 held by some, that the art of canting is ever in 
 
A FRAGMENT. 309 
 
 greatest perfection, when managed by ignorance; 
 which is thought to be enigmatically meant by 
 Plutarch, when he tells us, that the best musi- 
 cal instruments were made from the bones of 
 an ass. And the profounder criticks upon that 
 passage, are of opinion, the w r ord in its genuine 
 signification, means no other than a jaw-bone; 
 though some rather think it to have been the 
 os sacrum: but in so nice a case, I shall not 
 take upon me to decide; the curious are at 
 liberty, to pick from it whatever they please. 
 
 The first ingredient, towards the art of cant- 
 ing, is a competent .share of inward light ; that 
 is to say, a large memory, plentifully fraught 
 with theological polysyllables, and mysterious 
 texts from holy writ, applied and digested by 
 those methods, and mechanical operations al- 
 ready related : the bearers of this light, resem- 
 bling lanthorns, compact of leaves from old 
 Geneva bibles; which invention, Sir H-mphry 
 Edzc-n, during his mayoralty, of happy memory, 
 highly approved and advanced; affirming, tlie 
 scripture to be now fulfilled, where it says, Thy 
 xcord is a lanthorn to my feet, and a light to my 
 paths. 
 
 Now, the art of canting consists in skilfully 
 adapting the voice, to whatever words the spirit 
 delivers, that each may strike the ears of the 
 audience, with its most significant cadence, 
 
 
510 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 The force, or energy of this eloquence, is not 
 to be found, as among antient orators, in the 
 disposition of words to a sentence, or the turning 
 of long periods; but agreeable to the modern 
 refinements in musick, is taken up wholly in 
 dwelling, and dilating upon syllables and letters. 
 Thus it is frequent for a single vowel to draw 
 sighs from a multitude ; and for a whole assem- 
 bly of saints, to sob to the musick of one solitary 
 liquid. But these are trifles ; when even sounds 
 inarticulate, are observed to produce as forcible 
 effects. A master workman shall blow his nose 
 so powerfully, as to pierce the hearts of his 
 people, who are disposed to receive the excre- 
 ments of his brain, with the same reverence as 
 the issue of it. Hawking, spitting, and belching, 
 the defects of other men's rhetorick, are the 
 flowers, and figures, and ornaments of his. For, 
 the Spirit being the same in all, it is of no 
 import through what vehicle it is conveyed. 
 
 It is a point of too much difficulty, to draw 
 the principles of this famous art within the com- 
 pass of certain adequate rules. However, 
 perhaps, I may one day oblige the world with 
 my critical essay upon the art of Canting, Phi- 
 losophically, Physically, and Musically considered. 
 
 But, among -all improvements of the Spirit, 
 wherein the voice hath born a part, there is 
 none to be compared with that of conveying the ;| 
 
A FRAGMENT. 311 
 
 sound through the nose, which under the deno- 
 mination of # snuffling, hath passed with so 
 great applause in the world. The originals of 
 this institution are veiy dark ; but having been 
 initiated into the mystery of it, and leave 
 being given me to publish it to the world, I 
 shall deliver as direct a relation as I can. 
 
 This art, like many other famous inventions, 
 owed its birth, or at least, improvement and 
 perfection, to .an effect of chance; but was 
 established upon solid reasons, and hath flourish- 
 ed in this island ever since, with great lustre. 
 All agree, that it first appeared upon the decay 
 and discouragement of bag-pipes, which having 
 long suffered under the mortal hatred of the 
 brethren, tottered for a time, and at last fell 
 with monarchy. The story is thus related. 
 
 As yet, snuffling was not ; when the following 
 adventure happened to a Bambury Saint. 
 Upon a certain day, while he was far engaged 
 among the tabernacles of the wicked, he felt 
 the outward man put into odd commotions, and 
 strangely pricked forward by the inward : an 
 effect very usual among the modern inspired. 
 For, some think, that the Spirit is apt to feed on 
 
 * The snuffling of men, who have lost their noses by lewd 
 courses, is said io have given rise to that lone, which our 
 dissenters did too much affect. W. Wotton. 
 
 
312 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 the fleshy like hungry wines upon raw beef. 
 Others rather believe, there is a perpetual game 
 at leap-frog between both ; and, sometimes, the 
 flesh is uppermost, and sometimes the Spirit ; 
 adding, that the former, while it is in the state 
 of a rider, wears huge rippon spurs, and when it 
 comes lo the turn of being hearer, is wonderfully 
 head-strong and hard mouthed. However it 
 came about, the Saint felt his vessel full extended 
 in every part (a very natural effect of strong 
 inspiration;) and the place and time falling out 
 so unluckily, that he could not have the con- 
 venience of evacuating upwards, by repetition, 
 prayer, or lecture ; he was forced to open an 
 inferior vent. In short he wrestled with the 
 flesh so long, that he at length subdued it, 
 coming off with honourable wounds, all before. 
 The surgeon had now cured the parts, primarily 
 effected ; but the disease driven from its post, 
 flew up into his head; and as a skilful general, 
 valiantly attacked in his trenches, and beaten 
 from the field, by flying marches withdraws to 
 the capital city, breaking down the bridges to 
 prevent pursuit; so the disease repelled from 
 its first station, fled before the rod of Hermes, 
 to the upper region, there fortifying itself ; but, 
 finding the foe making attacks at the nose, 
 broke down the bridge, and retired to the head 
 quarters. Now, the naturalists observe,{that there 
 
A FRAGMENT. 313 
 
 is in human noses, an idiosyncracy, by virtue of 
 which, the more the passage is obstructed, the 
 more our speech delights to go through, as the 
 musick of a flagelate is made by the stops. 
 By this method the twang of the nose, becomes 
 perfectly to resemble the snuffle of a bag-pipe, and 
 is found to be equally attractive of British ears ; 
 whereof the Saint had sudden experience, by 
 practising his new faculty with wonderful success 
 in the operation of the Spirit ; for, in a short 
 time, no doctrine passed for sound and orthodox, 
 unless it were delivered through the nose. 
 Strait, every pastor copied after this original ; 
 and those, who could not otherwise arrive to 
 a perfection, spirited by a noble zeal, made use 
 of the same experiment to acquire it. So that, 
 I think, it may be truly affirmed, the Saints owe 
 their empire to the snuffling of one animal, as 
 Darius did his, to the neighing of another ; and 
 both stratagems were performed by the same 
 art ; for we read, how the* Persian beast acquir- 
 ed his faculty, by covering a mare the day 
 before. 
 
 I should now have done, if I were not con- 
 vinced, that whatever I have yet advanced upon 
 
 this subject, is liable to great exception. For, 
 i 
 
 * Herodot. 
 
314 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 allowing all I have said to be true, it may still 
 be justly objected, that there is in the common- 
 wealth of artificial enthusiasm, some real foun- 
 dation for art to work upon in the temper and 
 complexion of individuals, which other mortals 
 seem to want. Observe but the gesture, the 
 motion, and the countenance, of some choice 
 professors, though in the most familiar actions, 
 you will find them of a different. race from the 
 rest of human creatures. Remark your com- 
 monest pretender to a light within, how daik, 
 and dirty, and gloomy he is without : as lanthorns, 
 which the more light they bear in their bodies, 
 cast out so much the more soot, and smoak, and 
 fuliginous matter to adhere to the sides. Listen 
 but to their ordinary talk, and look on the mouth 
 that delivers it; you will imagine you are 
 hearing some antient oracle, and your under- 
 standing will be equal/i/ informed. Upon these, 
 and the like reasons, certain objectors pretend 
 to put it beyond all doubt, that there must be 
 a sort of preternal Spirit, possessing the heads 
 of the modern saints; and some will have it to 
 be the heat of zeal, working upon the dregs of 
 ignorance, as other Spirits are produced from 
 lees, by the force of fire. Some again think, 
 that when our earthly tabernacles are disordered 
 and desolate, shaken and out of repair, the Spirit 
 
A FRAGMENT. 515 
 
 delights to dwell witnin them, as houses are said 
 to be haunted when they are forsaken and gone 
 to decay. 
 
 To set this matter in as fair a light as possible ; 
 I shall here, very briefly, deduce the history of 
 Fanaticism, from the most early ages to^the 
 present. And if we are able to fix upon any 
 one material or fundamental point, wherein the 
 chief professors have universally agreed, I think 
 we may reasonably lay hold on that, and assign 
 it for the great seed or principle of the Spirit. 
 
 The mo^t early traces we meet with of Fana- 
 ticks, in ancient story, are among the ^Egyptians, 
 who instituted those rites, known in Greece by 
 the names of Qrgya, Panegyres, and Dionysia, 
 whether introduced there by Orpheus and Me- 
 lampus, we shall not dispute at present, nor in 
 all likelihood- at any time for the future. These 
 feasts were celebrated to the honour of Osyris, 
 whom the Grecians called Dionysius, and is the 
 same with Bacchus* : which has betrayed some 
 superficial readers to imagine, that the whole 
 business was nothing more than a set of roaring, 
 scouring companions, ; over-charged with wine; 
 but this is a scandalous mistake, foisted on the 
 world by a sort of modern authors, who have 
 too literal an understanding ; and because anti- 
 
 * Dido. Sic. L. 1. Plut. de hide <£• Osyridt* 
 P & 
 
316 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 quity is to be traced backwards, do therefore, 
 like Jews, begin their books at the wrong end, 
 as if learning were a sort of conjuring. These 
 are the men, who pretend to understand a book, 
 by scouting thro' the Index, as if a traveller 
 should go about to describe a palace, when he 
 had seen nothing but the privy: or like certain 
 fortune-tellers in Northern America, who have a 
 way of reading a man's destiny, by peeping in 
 his breech. For, at the time of instituting these 
 mysteries, # there w r as not one vine in all JEgypt, 
 the natives drinking nothing but ale ; which 
 liquor seems to have been far more ancient than 
 wine, and has the honour of owning its inven- 
 tion and progress, not only to the f Mgyptian 
 Osyrisj but to the Grecian Bacchus, who in their 
 famous expedition, carried the receipt of it 
 along with them, and gave it to the nations they 
 visited or subdued. Besides, Bacchus himself 
 was very seldom, or never drunk : for it is re- 
 corded of him, that he was the first % inventor 
 of the mitre ; which he wore continually on his 
 head (as the whole company of bacchanals did) 
 to prevent vapours and the head-ach, after hard 
 drinking. And for this reason (say some) the 
 Scarlet Whore, when she makes the kings of the. 
 
 * Herod. L. Q. 
 
 f Diod.Sic L. l.$3. 
 
 X Id. L. 4. 
 
A FRAGMENT. 31? 
 
 earth drunk with her cup of abomination, is al- 
 ways sober herself, tho' she never baulks the 
 glass in her turn, being, it seems, kept upon 
 her legs by the virtue of her triple mitre. Now, 
 these feasts were instituted in imitation of the 
 famous expedition Osyris made thro' the world, 
 and of the company that attended him, whereof 
 the bacchanalian* ceremonies were so many types 
 and symbols. From which account, it is ma- 
 nifest, that the fanatick rites of these bacchanals 
 cannot be imputed to intoxications by wine, but 
 must needs have had a deeper foundation. What 
 this was, we may gather large hints from cer- 
 tain circumstances in the course of their myste- 
 ries. For, in the first place, there was in their 
 processions, an entire mixture and confusion of 
 sexes ; they affected to ramble about hills and 
 desarts : their garlands were of ivy and vine, 
 emblems of cleaving and clinging; or of fir, the 
 parent of turpentine. It is added, that they 
 imitated satyrs, were attended by goats, and rode 
 upon asses, all companions of great skill and 
 practice in affairs of gallantry. They bore for 
 their ensigns, certain curious figures, perched 
 upon long poles, made into the shape and size 
 of the virga genitalis, with its appurtenances, 
 which were so many shadows and emblems of 
 
 * See the particulars in Diod. Sic, i, 1. fy S. 
 p 3 
 
518 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 the whole mystery, as well as trophies set up by 
 the female conquerors. Lastly, in a certain 
 town of Attica, the whole solemnity * stript of 
 all its types, was performed in puris naturalibus, 
 the votaries, not flying in coveys, but sorted 
 into couples. The same may be farther con- 
 jectured from the death of Orpheus, one of the 
 institutors of these mysteries, who was torn in 
 pieces by women, because he refused to -j- com- 
 municate his orgies to them ; which others ex- 
 plained, by telling us, he had castrated him- 
 self, upon grief for the loss of his wife. 
 
 Omitting many others of less note, the next 
 Tanaticks we meet with, of any eminence, were 
 the numerous sects of Hereticks appearing in 
 the five first centuries of the Christian ara^ 
 from Simon Magus and his followers, to those of 
 Eutyches. I have collected their systems from 
 infinite reading, and comparing them with those of 
 their successors in the several ages since, I find 
 there are certain bounds set even to the irregu- 
 larity of human thought, and those a great deal 
 narrower than is commonly apprehended. For, 
 as they all frequently interfere, even in their 
 wildest ravings; so there is one fundamental 
 point, wherein they are sure to meet, as lines ift 
 
 * Dionysia Brauronia. 
 
 f Vid. Photium in excerpiis « Conone, 
 
A FRAGMENT. 319 
 
 a centre, and that is the community of women. 
 Great were their solicitudes in this matter, and 
 they never failed of certain articles in their 
 schemes of worship, on purpose to establish it. 
 
 The last Fanaticks of note, were those which 
 started up in Germany, a little after the Refor- 
 mation of Luther ; springing, as mushrooms do 
 at the end of a harvest : such were John of Ley- 
 den, David George, Adam Neuster, and many 
 others; whose visions and revelations always 
 terminated in leading about half a dozen sisters 
 a-piece, and making that practice a fundamental 
 part of their system. , For, human life is a con- 
 tinual navigation, and, if we expect our vessels 
 to pass with safety, through the waves and tem- 
 pests of this fluctuating world, it is necessary 
 to make a good provision of the flesh, as seamen 
 lay in store of beef for a long voyage. 
 
 Now from this brief survey of some principal 
 sects, among the Fanaticks, in all ages (having 
 omitted the Mahometans and others, who might 
 also help to confirm the argument I am about) 
 to which I might add several among ourselves, 
 such as the Family of Love, Sweet Singers of 
 Israel, and the like: and from reflecting upon 
 that fundamental point in their doctrines, about 
 women, wherein they have so unanimously 
 agreed ; I am apt to imagine, that the seed, or 
 principle, which has ever put men upon visions 
 
320 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 in things invisible, is of a corporeal nature : for 
 the profounder chymists inform us, that the 
 strongest spirits may be extracted from human 
 flesh. Besides, the spinal marrow, being no- 
 thing else but a continuation of the brain, must 
 needs create a very free communication between 
 the superior faculties and those below : and thus 
 the thorn in the flesh serves for a spur to the spi- 
 rit. I think, it is agreed among physicians, 
 that nothing affects the head so much, as a ten- 
 tiginous humour, repelled and elated to the up- 
 per region, found by daily practice, to run fre- 
 quently up into madness. A very eminent mem- 
 ber of the faculty assured me, that when the 
 Quakers first appeared, he seldom was without 
 some female patients among them, for thefuror 
 persons of a visionary devotion, either 
 men or women, are in their complexion, of all 
 others, the most amorous : for, zeal is frequently 
 kindled from the same spark with other fires, 
 and from inflaming brotherly love, will proceed 
 to raise that of a gallant. If we inspect into 
 the usual process of modern courtship, we shall 
 find it to consist in a, devout turn of the eyes, 
 called ogling-, an artificial form of canting and 
 whining by rote, every interval, for want of 
 other matter, made up with a shrug, or a hum, 
 a sigh or a groan; the stile compact of insigni- 
 ficant words, incoherences and repetition. These, 
 
 ! 
 
A FRAGMENT. 3£1 
 
 I take, to be the most accomplished rules of ad- 
 dress to a mistress ; and where are these per- 
 formed with more dexterity, than by the saints ? 
 Nay, to bring this argument yet closer, I have 
 been informed by certain sanguine brethren of 
 the first class, that in the height and orgasmus of 
 their spiritual exercise, it has been frequent with 
 them * * # # * *; immediately after 
 which, they found the spirit to relax and flag of 
 a sudden with the nerves, and they were forced 
 to hasten to a conclusion. This may be farther 
 strengthened, by observing, with wonder, how 
 unaccountable all females are attracted by vi- 
 sionary or enthusiastic- preachers, though never 
 so contemptible in their outward men ; which is 
 usually supposed to be done upon considerations 
 purely spiritual, without any carnal regards at 
 all. But I have reason to think, the sex hath 
 certain characteristicks, by which they form a 
 truer judgment of human abilities and perform- 
 ings, than we ourselves can possibly do of each 
 other. Let that be as it will, thus much is cer- 
 tain, that however spiritual intrigues begin, they 
 generally conclude like all others ; they may 
 branch upwards towards heaven, but the root is 
 in the earth. Too intense a contemplation is 
 not the business of flesh and blood ; it must 
 by the necessary course of things, in a little 
 time, let go its hold, and fall into matter. Lo- 
 
32S A FRAGMENT. 
 
 vers, for the sake of celestial converse, are but 
 another sort of P'tatonicks, who pretend to see 
 stars and heaven in ladies eyes, and to look or 
 think no lower ; but the same pit is provided for 
 both ; and they seem a perfect moral to the 
 story of that philosopher, who, while his thoughts 
 and eyes were fixed upon the constellations, 
 found himself seduced by his lower parts into a 
 diU h. 
 
 I had somewhat more to say upon this part of 
 the subject; but the post is just going, which 
 forces me in great haste to conclude, 
 
 S I R, 
 
 Yours, &c* 
 
 Pray burn this 
 Letter as soon 
 as it comes to 
 your hands. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Plummet- and BreuM, Pri*tlti& A Lone JLaue, haUUt^uuT 
 
 J AJ\IX 
 
 4 ®49 
 

 Directions for placing the Plates, 
 
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 Dedication to Prince Posterity to face page $% 
 
 Grub-Street Authors triumph over Time to face page 68 
 Peter, John, and Martin, examining the Will to 
 
 face page • • • 90 
 
 A true Critick hunting down Authors to face page* • 104 
 
 Lord Peter presenting his Foot to face page • 126* 
 
 Jack courting Persecution to face page 318 
 
 
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