I have always made, that of all mortals a critic is the silliest; for, by enuring himself to examine all things, whether they are of consequence or not, he never looks upon any thing but with a design of passing sentence upon it; by which means he is never a companion, but always a censor. This makes him earnest upon trifles and dispute on the most indifferent occasions with vehemence. If he offers to speak or write, that talent, which would approve the work of the other faculties, prevents their operation. He comes upon action in armour, but without weapons; he stands in safety, but can gain no glory. The wit, on the other hand, has been hurried so long away by imagination only, that judgment seems not to have ever been one of his natural faculties. This gentleman takes himself to be as much obliged to be merry, as the other to be grave. A thorough critic is a sort of puritan in the polite world. As an enthusiast in religion stumbles at the ordinary occurrences of life, if he cannot quote scripture examples on the occasion; so the critic is never safe in his speech or writing, without he has, among the celebrated writers, an authority for the truth of his sentence. You will believe we had a very good time with these brethren, who were so far out of the dress of their native country, and so lost in its dialect, that they were as much strangers to themselves, as to their relation to each other. They took up the whole discourse; sometimes the critic grew passionate, and, when reprimanded by the wit for any trip or hesitation in his voice, he would answer, Mr. Dryden makes such a character, on such an occasion, break off in the same manner; so that the stop was according to nature, and as a man in a passion should do.' The wit, who is as far gone in letters as himself, seems to be at a loss to answer such an apology; and concludes only, that though

his anger is justly vented, it wants fire in the utterance. If wit is to be measured by the circumstances of time and place, there is no man has generally so little of that talent as he who is a wit by profession. What he says, instead of arising from the occasion, has an occasion invented to bring it in. Thus he is new for no other reason, but that he talks like nobody else; but has taken up a method of his own, without commerce of dialogue with other people. The lively Jasper Dactyle 4 is one of this character. He seems to have made a vow to be witty to his life's end. When you meet him, 'What do you think,' says he, I have been entertaining myself with?' Then out comes a premeditated turn; to which it is to no purpose to answer, for he goes on in the same strain of thought he designed without your speaking. Therefore I have a general answer to all he can say; as, 'Sure there never was any creature had so much fire!' Spondee, who is a critic, is seldom out of this fine man's company. They have no manner of affection for each other, but keep together, like Novel and Oldfox in the Plain Dealer, because they shew each other. I know several men of sense who can be diverted with this couple; but I see no curiosity in the thing, except it be, that Spondee is dull; but Dactyle is heavy with a brisk face. It must be owned also, that Dactyle has almost vigour enough to be a coxcomb; but Spondee, by the lowness of his constitution, is only a blockhead.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 15.

WE have no particulars of moment since our last except it be, that the copy of the following original

letter came by the way of Ostend. It is said to have been found in the closet of Monsieur Chamillard, the late secretary of state of France, since his disgrace. It was signed by two brothers of the famous Cavallier, who led the Cevennois, and had a personal interview with the king, as well as a capitulation to lay down his arms, and leave the dominions of France. There are many other names to it; among whom is the chief of the family of the marquis Guiscard: It is not yet known whether Monsieur Chamillard had any real design to favour the protestant interest, or only thought to place himself at the head of that people, to make himself considerable enough to oppose his enemies at court, and re-instate himself in power there.

" SIR,

6

WE have read your majesty's letter to the governors of your provinces, with instructions what sentiments to insinuate into the minds of your people: but as you have always acted upon the maxim, that we were made for you, and not you for us; we must

5 The celebrated leader of the French protestants in the Cevennes, when those warlike but enthusiastic mountaineers opposed the tyranny of Lewis XIV. and made a vigorous stand against the whole power of France. Cavallier found in his latter days an hospitable asylum in Ireland, and published, in 1726, Memoirs of the wars of the Cevennes, under col. Cavallier, in defence of the protestants persecuted in that country, and of the peace concluded between him and the mareschal duke of Villars; of his conference with the king of France, after the conclusion of the peace; with letters relating thereto, from mareschal Villars, and Chamillard, secretary of state.'

6 See the last two paragraphs of No 28.

take leave to assure your majesty, that we are exactly of the contrary opinion; and must desire you to send for your grandson home, and acquaint him, that you now know, by experience, absolute power is only a vertigo in the brain of princes, which for a time may quicken their motion, and double in their diseased sight the instances of power above them; but must end at last in their fall and destruction. Your memorial speaks you a good father of your family, but a very ill one of your people. Your majesty is reduced to hear truth, when you are obliged to speak it. There is no governing any but savages by other methods than their own consent, which you seem to acknowledge in appealing to us for our opinion of your conduct in treating of peace. Had your people been always of your council, the king of France had never been reduced so low as to acknowledge his arms were fallen into contempt. But since it is thus, we must ask, how is any man of France, but they of the house of Bourbon, the better, that Philip is king of Spain? We have outgrown that folly of placing our happiness in your majesty's being called, The Great. Therefore you and we are all alike 7 bankrupts, and undone; let us not deceive ourselves, but compound with our adversaries, and not talk like their equals. Your majesty must forgive us, that we cannot wish you success, or lend you help: for, if you lose one battle more, we may have a hand in the peace you make; and doubt not but your majesty's faith in treaties will require the ratification of the states of your kingdom. So we bid you heartily farewell, until we have the honour to meet you assembled in par

7 Monsieur Bernard and the chief bankers of France became bankrupts about this time.

liament. This happy expectation makes us willing to wait the event of another campaign, from whence we hope to be raised from the misery of slaves to the privileges of subjects. We are your majesty's truly faithful and loyal subjects, &c.'

STEELE,

N° 30. SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 1709.

Quicquid agunt homines—

nostri est farrago libelli.

Whatever good is done, whatever ill

JUV. Sat. i. 85, 86.

By human kind, shall this collection fill.

From my own Apartment, June 16.

THE vigilance, the anxiety, the tenderness, which I have for the good people of England, I am persuaded, will in time be much commended; but I doubt whether they will be ever rewarded. However, I must go on cheerfully in my work of reformation; that being my great design, I am studious to prevent my labours increasing upon me; therefore am particularly observant of the temper and inclination of childhood and youth, that we may not give vice and folly supplies from the growing generation. It is hardly to be imagined how useful this study is, and what great evils or benefits arise from putting us in our tender years to what we are fit or unfit for: therefore on Tuesday last (with a design to sound their inclinations) I took three lads, who are under my guardianship, a-rambling, in a hackney-coach, to shew them the town; as the lions, the tombs, Bed