I Little thought there would have been any Need of Defending the short Essay concerning Critical and Curious Learning, &c. which I • ately Writ and Printed, you know, • urely in Complyance to your Desires. But I did not consider how tenderly some People are affected with any thing that looks like a Reproof. It was no sooner published, but out comes an acute Answer from Oxon, and pronounces it a down-right Ignorant and impudent Libel, and the Author of it an Atheistical TownWit. Whether this dreadful Charge is made out or not, shall be my present Inquiry; and because I am not much in love with the La • pooner's method of Railing in general, and talking at random, I will beg your Patience while I take every particular Paragraph into a distinct, but short, Examination. Not that I think there is any thing in this Trivial Paper worth the trouble; for on the other Hand, Pudet recitare, & nugis addere pond • s. But the Author seems to be so full of himself, and writes with such a Magisterial Air, that some People (especially those that are byassed) may be apt to fancy he has Justice on his side, and that my Silence is a tacit acknowledgment of it. Besides, I may possibly do him himself no disservice, in shewing him how unfit a Champion he is to undertake the Defence of a Publick Cause. There is a vast difference betwixt the Qualifications, which may make a Man appear advantagiously enough in an University, and those which will render him acceptable and Eminent in the World. But I do not, Sir, pretend to undervalue an University▪ Education; for I know, the mo • t considerable Personages of our Nation have always been those, who had their first Institutions there. I would only urge, that a Man must have a more diffused and mixed Conver • ation than is to be met with in a College, before his Learning will sit agreeably upon him, or he can hope to become a finish'd Scholar; such a one I mean as this Gentleman takes himself to be.

I can Observe no Method in what I am about. You must take it as it comes, in the Confusion he has delivered it. And therefore without any more Preliminary, I will begin to Transcribe. Viz.

Sir, I thank you • or the Pamphlet you sent me the other day; and because you was pleased to make it the Condition of your Gi • t, that I should return my Thoughts upon it: I have here sent them by the first Post, and I believe much sooner than you expected. You have them in the very Order they at fi • st occurred to me, without any manner of Correction; for truly I did not think it worth my while to make any.

This Introduction you see affords nothing Remarkable, but that our Friend is very good at Writing Letters; and may be depended upon by his Correspondents for a speedy Answer, let the Business they employ him about be never so Disobliging to him, or Insignificant in it self; unless perhaps we are to understand by the particular Character of the Words Condition and Gift, that there is some pretty double Entendre couched in them. I suppose his Meaning (if he has any) must be to inform us (by way of Lawyer) that some Gifts are upon Condition, and some not; and that where there is a Condition, that Condition must be performed before the Title to the Gift can be good. But let the Distinction lye where it will, I wish for my part he had not thought this small Gift worth his Acceptance, upon the Barbarous Condition of persecuting his Unknown, Humble Servant, as you shall hear he now and then does.

First then, It is obvious to remark, that the Author, whoever he is, has given his Essay a wrong • itle. If he had had a Mind to deal honestly with his Reader, it should have run thus: An Essay, &c. • n which are Contained several False and Scandalous Reflections on Christ Church in Oxon. But to turn over the Title Page. In his Preamble (where I assure you he pretends abundance of Modesty) he cannot forhear making open Proclamation, that he and his Friend, to whom he addresses this piece, have resolved to censure and damn all Books, that shall be hereafter Published: To which purpose they have established a Critical Correspondence between them. Wo be to all poor Writers for the future! But he has given the World no reason to hope well of this Grand Design. For in the present case (which it seems is the first he has medled in) he is far from b • ing so fair and equitable a Moderator as he ought, or indeed as he himself would pretend to be. For he has every where shewed that Dogmatical Humour and Arrogance he blames in others; and has taken a most intolerable Freedom, where he ought not to have done it. I have but two Reasons to think that Dr. Bentley himself did not write this Treatise: One is, that the Matter is infinitely too Polite, and the Style too Smooth and Flowing for him. The other, that I hardly believe his Self-love and Pride, would have suffered him to have dealt so freely and justly with his own and his Friend's Characters; tho' it was the most likely way to do him a real Service at the bottom. For these Reasons I must acquit the Doctor, and tell you, that I rather believe the Author to be an Esquir • , (as he calls himself) and one of those mighty Wits amongst you in Town, that set u • for the Overthrow of Religion; who the better to gain their En • s, lay hold on all Occasions, of traducing the Universities, and undermining the Dignity and Character of the Clergy. And tho' I have said this of him, yet it is no Wonder that he is Dr. Bentley's Friend and Acquaintance.

Here I have several things to account for. The first is a Misnosmer. But I cannot agree with him in it, since I am by no means guilty of the False and Scandalous Reflections he talks of. For what I have said of Christ Church in Oxon, is so far from being the false or scandalous Insinuation of an Enemy, that their best Friends have frequently and publickly owned the Truth of it; and (to quote Horace once more) Dicere verum quid vetat? I appeal to you, or any impartial Person, whether I have not left many things unmentioned, that might easily have been brought in, if I had had a Mind to shew my Malice. But I thought my self Obliged to touch upon nothing, but what lay immediately within the Argument. I did not so much urge my own single Opinion, as deliver the Sense of every Body that knew them, which I could easily make appear, was it not too invidious a Task. But if I could not, this Gentleman has effectually done it for me. He has given the World a fresh and unquestionable Evidence, that there is as much Vanity at least, as Learning in that College, as I shall prove by and by from his own Words. If instead of making Amendments in my Title Page, he had given me some Useful Monitions and Grave Advice, and told me, that it was a Rule in Satyr, Parcere personis dicere de vitijs, that Truth was not to be spoken at all times, &c. I might very probably have stood Corrected, and never have troubled you nor him with this Defence. But he is pleased to be scurrilous, and I must go on with him to the next Accusation; which is for erecting a Critical Tribunal, and making you and my self the Arbitrary Judges of it. Could this be made out, I must confess, he would have great Reason to complain of me, for removing that Court of extream Justice from his Residence, and for wresting the Authority out of their Hands, who have more leisure and assurance to put it in Execution. But I cannot imagine what brought the Whim into his Head. There is not the least Ground for it, in that Sentence he seems to point at in the Essay; where, after professing my own Inability and Unwillingness to venture upon so Nice a Topick, I say, In order to begin that Correspondence betwixt us, which your Letter so kindly proposes, and which is so much for my own Benefit, I will here give my imperfect Thoughts upon, &c. He might as well have found out the Doctrine of Transubstantiation in these Words, as any such Meaning; but when a Man is resolved to say what comes next, who can help it? Hitherto the Essay and the Essayer (as he calls me) are only concerned. But now you have Dr. Bentley forced in by Neck and Heels, to bear me Company, and take his share of the Satyr. It seems, he is never to escape the Gaul of their acute Pens; for otherwise I cannot conceive, why he is named here, only to tell the Courteous Reader, that he had nothing to do with this Treatise. The same Argument would have brought in the Czar of Muscovy, and many other great Men, that never dreamt of turning Authors; unless he will insist upon it, that he has but two Reasons to believe the Dr. did not write it, and perhaps there may be two and twenty, to think the Czar did not: But then he must consider again, that one of the Reasons he has given is as good as one thousand, and in such a Gase a little Logick, with the Help of as much Philosophy, would have taught him to conceal his private Resentments. If Dr. Bentley had not been a Man of Self-love and Pride, commo • Sense sure would have hindered him from dealing so very freely with Mr. Wotton and himself. For I cannot see what Real Service it could do him at the bottom, to wound his Enemy through his own sides. The other Reason indeed I doubt was thrown in unawares, or with a Design meerly to mortifie the Doctor. For he no sooner says, that I write a better Style than the Doctor, but you may perceive he immediately recollects himself, and least I should grow proud upon it, calls me in the same Breath a Traducer of the University, a Reviler of the Clergy, an Underminer of the Church, and an Overthrower of Religion: And which is still more notorious (for I was to expect no better Language from him) he bestows the same Compliments upon the Doctor too, without any regard at all to his Character. One would have thought Dr. Bentley's Sermons against Atheism (for I must suppose our Student has read them) would have secured him in partic • lar from such insufferable Calumnies. I hope after this, he will not complain of any Man's incivility. There are no such Aspersions to be found in my late Piece. The Liberty there taken with Dr. Aldrich, is of a • other Nature, of a much lower form. For any thing I have said to the contrary, he may still be an Honest Man, and a good Christian. I medled not with his Morals or way of Life, because it would have been an impertinent and unjustifiable way of Det • action, which I thought b • low me: And yet this Censor Mo • , this Correcter of my Intol • rable Freedoms, has not boggled at it himself. Whatever he may think of my Squireship, I have a greater Respect for any Dignified Divine, than to call him an Atheist: I am not so like Almanzor (as he would elsewhere have me) to do all this because I dare. Every Man's Reputation (especially a Clergy▪ man's) ought to be Sacred: The Law makes it so, and has provid • d Penalties against the Authors o • Libels and De • amatory Books. But, if • here was no Satisfaction to be had in these cases, it is a mean and ungenerous thing, to expose and p • t lish any one's Faults, especially such as may really wound his Character, and good Name in the World. No body that had had any Notion of Honour or Good Manners, would have been guilty of it, when it had no relation at all to his Subject. So much for my Morals. In the next place you have an Account of my Learning.

But I would gladly know what there is in this piece, that should make it gain so mighty a Reputation, as you say it has; and particularly how it comes to deserve your Esteem, notwithstanding the aversion you are pleased to say you have to the Satyrical Stuff in it. It is indeed called (I should say miscalled) An Essay concerning Critical and Curious Learning: Which, I must own, is a very promising Title, and one might reasonably expect som • thing new and delicate upon so nice an Argument. It came to my Hands with an extraordinary Advantage, in that it had your Recommendation. I durst not pass any Censure upon it. I suspended my Judgment, and read it again and again; but I liked it worse every time I did so. I cannot indeed but acknowledge, I had some little reason to be byassed, when I found the Worthy and Reverend Dean of Christ Church so undecently treated; and the Reputation of • is whole Society arraigned in a most imperious and insolent Manner.

This Paragraph is civil enough in Conscience from a professed Adversary; and if I manage it to the best advantage, I shall be able to pick up a Compliment or two at least out of it, which may make some little amends for his former Rudenesses. First then, he tells me, the Essay has gained a good Reputation in General; that his Friend in particular, was pleased to pass a Favourable Censure upon it; and that truly for his own part, he is byassed upon the Dean of Christ-Church's account. After this frank Confession of his Partiality, I can easily forgive his calling what is said upon his College Satyrical Stuff. I am not concerned neither at any other Unkind Expressions; because I know they are extorted from his good Nature. I do not much care too, if I resign him my Title page, since he will needs insist again upon it, viz. It is called, (I should say miscalled). There is no withstanding such an unaffected flower and turn of Speech: • ully himself could not have said so much in so short a Parenthesis: And therefore (as I said before) my Title-page is at his Service. Thus far Matters are well enough reconciled: He has either meant me no harm, or done me none: And if I can acquit my self as well from what follows, we shall part very good Friends.

The seri • s part of this Piece is nothing but a Farrago of common Notions, put indeed into tolerable good Language: But the Author talks so very abruptly, and has so cramped himself upon every Head, that what he says of his Performance in jest, may very well be applyed to it in good earnest; viz. That by endeavouring to say a grea • deal in so narro • a Compass and short a Time, he has scarce said any thing. But why did not our Essayer take a wider Compass, and a longer Time for this mighty Undertaking of his? What provocation had he to speak to any Subject, unless he would have done it to purpose? Was it a Task imposed upon him, which he was willing to get off his Hands as soon as he could, and was he at the same time obliged to print it? When he delivers his own Opinion, and gives the finishing turn to any Argument, he does it in as positive decisive a manner, as if Dr. Bentley himself had done it. He bears all down before him, and when he is going to prove some ordinary known thing, puts himself into as great a Sweat and Tumult, as if he was about some of the knottyest Points in all Mathematicks, and was doing no less than squaring the Circle. To make a shew of much Learning (a Qualification not very common amongst such Wits) he runs through all the Sciences, but after a very odd manner: For when the Reader expects some handsome Account of them, he baulks him with lame and imperfect Definitions. He pretends to have pressed his matter very close, but it is still so sp • ngy, that it may be squeezed much closer, and fairly reduced into nothing. I have often heard honest Will. Pate, talk as roundly over a Glass of Wine, of all kinds of Learning and Languages, as our Author, without ever suspecting him to have any clear or full Notions of what he was about. There is a sort of Common-place, which any Man that keeps good Company may easily be furnished with; and yet at the same time, be no more a Scholar, than the Pope's Parrot, that could repeat the Creed, by keeping much Company with his Holiness, was a Christian.

The first Sentence here, is a flat Contradiction to what went before. Before he affirmed in Cool Blood, that my Matter was polite, and my Style smooth, and flowing: Now his Passion gets the better of him, and it is nothing but a Farrago of common Notions; which is as much as to say, that the same thing is white, and is not white at the same time: For a Farrago of common Notion, and polite Matter, are no more akin than Light • nd Darkness. However, since he still owns, that these Common Notions are put into Good Language, I have no reason to contend with him about a small Contradiction. For by this Concession, he gives me no less a Character, than that which the Criticks have made the Propriety of the Divine Horace, viz. the • xpressing Common Things in Excellent Words; (which by the way is the reason that Poet can never be well translated; for no other Language is sufficiently expressive of the Delicacy and Fulness of the Latine Phrase.) But in the following part of this Paragraph he seems at first sight to offer several weighty Objections, but they are put in such loose and general Terms, that I can make nothing of them. Instead of giving a Reason for what he says, he asks two or three impertinent Questions, of no more Consequence than if he should have said, What is your Name, Sir? What does T. R. stand for? Nay, they are hardly so much to his Point. For if he could but once have learned who I was, he mig • t possibly have made an odd use of it, and troubled the Wo • ld with a History of my Life. But that which looks most like a real Objection is this; He runs through all the Sciences, but after a very odd manner. For when the Reader expects some h • ndsome account of them, he baulks him w • h lame and imperfect Definitions. If • e means, that what I have said upo • the Sciences, is not suffi • ient to gve the Reader a distinct View, and • ll Idea of them, I shall readily a • quiesce in his Criticism, and only u • ge in my Vindication, that it was i • possible sor me to do it in the co • pass I had allotted my self. But if h • meaning is, that what I have said is in it self lame and imperfect, he would have done well to have giv • n me some particular instance of • t; for ' • ill he is pleased to do so, I can make no Defence without ac • using my self. I writ the Essay w • th the same awe (if I may be allo • ed the Comparison on my part) t • at Tully did his Epistles to Atticus. 〈◊〉 knew I was talking to one that understood every Topick better than my self; and was therefore much more sparing of my words than I should have been, had I pretended instruction. But, if I had designed that, I know not what like lier Method I could have taken▪ than first to give the general defintion of every Science in as pleas • g unscholastick Terms as I could, • nd then to deliver my own partic • lar Notions of it. But I never preended to answer the full end of your Proposals; or to give my Opnion, how far a Man might pro • eed in every Science, without carr • ing • is Search further, than was usefu • . This, Sir, I told you was an A • gument infinitely too bulky and e • tensive, for the form and length of 〈◊〉 Essay; and as I conceived, was t • be managed in the same Metho • , • he Famous Verulam had done hi • Excellent Book of the Advancement • f Learning, and would require a V • lume little less than his. I was so farfrom thinking my self equal to so • ast an Undertaking, that I was slocked at it; and I then said what I still think, that it was a Work hardly to be performed in the Compass of one Man's Life; and was therefore a more fit Employment for a Body of Learned Men, than a single Person. They must be Men too, hardly unacquainted with any thing. For how else could they determine critically of all kinds of Knowledge? How could they assign suitable Methods • nd proportionable Degrees, for the • rocess of Humane Understanding, i • all her Enquiries? How could t • ey pretend to fix the Boundaries of L • arning? How could they be capable of forming a regular Scheme and Plan of the whole Circle of Ar • s and Sciences for the Benefit of others, if they were not perfect Masters of 'em themselves? I question whether there is, or ever was, any one Man in the World thus qualified. Our late Lord Bacon has in the Book I just now mentioned, given large Proofs of the Universality of his Genius; but he himself was of my Opinion. Aristotle was certainly the most generally knowing of all Antiquity; yet he is suspected to have copied some of the Books ascribed to him, and to have burnt the Originals from whence he had them. To be thoroughly vers'd in any Art, is the Effect of much Time and Industry; and we are apt to think our selves accomplished Persons too, when once distinguished by the single Name of good Astronomets, or Poets, or Orators, &c. without ever hoping to be thought all of them. Those who now adays set up for universal Scholars▪ are commonly Men but of rambling Pedantical Learning. They are nicely skill'd in the Mechanical Part and Jargon of the Sciences; have pr • bably read and got by heart all the General Systems: They are such p • rfect Masters of the Terms in Logick, that they can immediately form an argument in any▪ Mode and Figure, detect a Sophism at the first Glance, and, which is still more, compile a Compendium of the whole Art, if Occasion be, for the Use of their Friends and Pupils. They understand so much of Mathematicks, as to solve most of the Problems in Euclid; Nay, perhaps as to draw up a small unintelligible Scheme of the Grounds and Principles of Geometry. They may be so well vers'd in Astronomy too, as to know the Common Revolutions of the Stars, to calculate the Eclipses of the Sun and Moon, and to furnish out an Almanack every year, (set off and adorned with Curious Italian Sculptures, whereby it becomes not only useful, to find out the Day of the Month, but at the same time serves instead of a Picture in a Clos • t, and by Consequence is never out of Date.) But whether such Men have any Notion of the profound Researches in these and other Sciences, whether they have made any useful and sound Reflections upon them or not, remains a doubt, 'till they shall give the World greater Proofs and Evidences than these I have named.

But I had almost forgot his Extraordinary Waggery, in comparing Will. Pate and me to Pope somebody's Parrot. It is plain from hence, that he is deeply read in Church History. He could no doubt have told what the Pope's Name was, what Language he and the Parrot used to converse in, &c. and I wonder he did not; since these and such like Circumstances would have been as New and Entertaining to the Reader, as that of the Birds repeating the Creed, and as applicable withal to me. But why poor • ill. Pate is here abused, is a Mistery of impertinence. He has not I hope tak • n Dr. Bentley's side, and spoken Trea • on against Phalaris. If he has, let him lye at a Tyrant's Mercy. If he has not, I will in his Name and my own, present our Athenian with one Bird for another, and tell him plainly, that he is as like an Owl, as either Will. Pate or Ia Parrot; for as the Proverb expresly has it, There are Owls at Athens, as well as Parrots at Rome.

In short, he is sometimes a proud, supercilious Critick, sometimes a dry and starch'd Common-placer, and always impertinent to his Reader, and inconsistent with himself. If it was worth while, I would undertake to refute every thing out of the Essay it self. One Sentence contradicts another. He is not of the same Opinion two Leaves together. Here you have him crying up Experimental Philo • ophy, but with abundance of Limitations, as the most pleasant Study in the World, and which a Man ought to spend all his time in. Presently he forgets this, and talks as loudly for all the other Sciences one after another; only Mathematicks and Metaphysicks have the hard hap not to be of the number of his Favourites. When he comes to talk of his beloved Argument, of Critical Learning in the Modern Acception, as it is taken for a thorough Understanding of Classick Authors, and an exact Knowledge of all those Rules, by which Men judge and determine nicely of all the finer Parts and Branches of Humane Literature; he displays all his force, and is most wonderfully instructive. He informs his Reader, that Aristotle was the first that drew up these Rules into a Compass, and made Criticism an Art; that Horace, Longinus, and all the Criticks both Ancient and Modern, drained most of their Knowledge from him. This is just as much and no more, than has been said an hundred times in Dedications and Prefaces to Plays. Not only Mr. Congreve, Dennis, &c. but even Settle and Durfey have often said it before him; and most of them in their present Controversie with Mr. Collier, make nothing of talking of Aristotle as familiarly as this Gentleman, without ever having read one word of him. But he goes on victoriously, and says, Criticism is without all douht a very good thing, notwithstanding what some People say of it; and hath a pretty similitude about Alexander and Caesar, nothing to the purpose; from whence however he infers as fast as Hops, the great Advantage of Critical Knowledge. Such Deductions are of the same stamp with his Friend • Dr. Bentley's: But I am sure I argue more Logically, when I say, that because Dr. Bentley writes false Latin and false English, that therefore by way of contrary he is in the right of it; for a good Argument may be, and often is ill defended. After having muster'd up all this, he leaves his Argument for a while, and makes a digression upon the use of frequent Compositions. Here he crowds his fine Notions very thick upon us, and to single out one from amongst many, he tells us, that all the Faculties of the Mind, whether Active or Passive, are mightily heightened and improved by Exercise. This proposition is certainly true; and so it will hold, if I should affirm it of the Faculties of the Body, and illustrate my Position with the Famous Story of Milo, who first tryed his Strength in carrying a Calf, and by constant Application, was at last able to do as much for an Oxe. But who could I hope to inform by it? Is • ny Body that had common Sense or Learning before, made ev • r a whit the wiser for this? If I say, Critically speaking, that Virgil is a better Poet than Martial, and Heroick Poetry nobler than Anagram, I talk upon safe Grounds, and no Body can contradict me, without palpably contradicting the Truth: But what then? When a Man will needs be an A • thor, especially of Essays; it is expected he should produce Ardens aliquid, something New and Entertaining: Montaign and Sir Evremont are remarkable for it. There is yet another notable piece of Criticism, and it is that Tully was a better Poet than an Oratour. This is true too, and I have nothing to say in Answer to it. But to return with him from this digression. The next thing he presents us with, is a terrible description of the Modern Criticks, That they are byassed by partiality, and in spight of all their specious Pretences, a strong Tincture of ill Nature unhappily appears in every Line. They tell us indeed in their Prefaces, that they have dealt very handsomly and candidly with the Authors they Comment upon: But when we come to the Remarks themselves, we are entertained with nothing but continual Snarling and Insolence. This will prove as true as the rest of his Axioms and wise Sayings, if rightly applyed, that is to himself.

One would imagine by the Concise in short at the Head of this Article, that he had before put himself quite out of Breath with Reasoning, and was now come to make his Use and Application from the whole. But it is at last only to say over again, what he has said several times already, that he could if he would, prove my Essay to be inconsistent and contradictory. If I thought this forbearance of his was pure good Nature, I should be mightily Obliged to him. But I am of their ill contrived Temper, who suspect every Kindness from an Enemy to be the effect of Necessity more than Choice; and think he does not do me Harm, only because he cannot. But, when a Man is at a Non plus, 'tis a pretty Superficial Turn, to pretend he will not trouble himself and the Reader, with heaping up all that might be said upon the Occasion. The true Reason of Silence in such Cases is, that what is left behind is not worth speaking. The Argument in it self may not be exhausted indeed; but it is not the Talent of every Pamphletee • to say just as much as a Subject will handsomely bear, and no more: There is required a solid Judgment to do this, even on the most trifling Questions. As to the Crying up Experimental Phylosophy, and then talking as loudly for all the other Sciences, it is unfairly alledged against me, and I may say without any breach of Modesty, that I have not Confounded my Opinions: I have been at least consistent with my self. For if I affirm, That Experimental Philosophy is the most Noble, Beneficial, and Satisfactory, of all those Sciences, that an inquirer into Nature can apply himself to, and in the same Discourse call History (in relation to Civil Life) one of the most useful and pleasant Studies in the Worl • , I shall be thought to Contradict my self by no body, that is possest of a tolerable Understanding, tho' the Superlative Degree is used in both Cases. And yet this is all I can find (upon an 〈◊〉 Examination) that makes him assert so positively, that one Sentence contradicts another; that I am not of the same Opinion two Leaves together. But the Mischief of it is, he suspects at the bottom I know nothing of the Topicks I am upon, and therefore takes it for granted, that I betray my ignorance every now and then, especially of Mathematicks and Metaphysicks. If I may be permitted to use the same freedom, and guess at his Skill in these Matters by his manner of Refuting an Essay, I fancy they are a little too Crabbed for his Head too, as well as mine. He • eems to be no Friend to the Mathematicks neither, and I doubt is so far from being likely to Square the Circle, that it would perplex him grievously to demonstrate, that the Three Angles in a Triangle are neither bigger nor less than Two Right Angles; or any such known Proposition. But all this is gratis dictum. He may overflow with Learning, and yet scorn to bestow any of it upon me and my idle Treatise. It is enough to say I write Non-sense, without being at the Pains to prove it; For some Mens bare Authority is more Convincing than other Mens best Arguments. In the next place he examines my Knowledge in Classick Learning, and here to my Eternal Shame he finds me no better a Proficient than in the Severer Studies. He finds nothing but common and trivial things, but what has been said in Dedications and Prefaces an hundred times. I own I say Aristotle was the Father of Criticism, which for any thing I know may have been said not only an hundred, but a thousand times before me. But what then? I do not advance it as a New Discovery. I only make use of it as a necessary Introduction to a Discourse upon that Subject. If I had talked of Criticism, and not named Aristotle, I suppose I should have been as much to blame on the other hand. And there would have been a great deal more reason for suspecting me not to have read any part of his Works than at present there can be. 'Tis true, I have quoted no Greek out of him, which I ought by all means to have done, had I foreseen my acquaintance with that Language had been likely to come in question▪ But whether I understand it or not, the four Poets (who are here as awkardly brought in and traduced as Will. Pate was) may, for any thing this Academick or I know to the contrary. None of them, I dare say, have ever made honourable mention of Aristotle in their Prefaces, without a Greek Citation or two at the same time. And in their present Controversie with Mr. Collier, some of them have plentifully quoted Latine and Greek Authors in their own Tongue; the Fathers themselves have hardly escaped. But I have enough to do to defend my self. It seems I have not only dealt too familiarly with Aristotle, but with his great Pupil Alexander, and Caesar likewise; and I must give an account of it. As to this; I will beg leave to tell my Friend, he has ignorantly, or (which is as bad) wilfully mistaken the plain Sense of a whole Pa • agraph, as you will immediately see, if you please to cast your Eye upon the 29th. Page of the Essay▪ He says I infer from Alexander and Caesar the great advantage of Critical Knowledge. Whereas on the contrary I • ay, some People have argued the inconvenience of adhereing to Critical Rules, from a Comparison of those two great Examples in Heroick Virtue. But for all this Mistake is so gross and apparent, he runs away with it, and in a most Academical Sophism (put indeed as a Parallel to my Reasoning, but truly a Specimen of his own) he ridicules me and Dr. Bentley at once for two poor silly Fellows, that know nothing of Logick. If this was not below an Answer, it would be very easie to prove from it, that he had never read one word of Aristotle, nor any other Logician neither, any more than my Worship. One would think it impossible for a Man of common Sense, to write such incoherent irrational Trash. But sometimes Peoples Malice perverts their Understanding, and transports them to a strange degree of Folly and Impertinence. But I may think, and say, and prove what I will; he is so well satisfied with the justness of his Reflections, that he pursues me with equal Vigour through the Digression upon the use of frequent Compositions; and to my great Comfort he does it just with equal success too. Here he is again disgusted at my Trumping common Notions upon him for fine Things; which (says he) are by no means proper for an Essay, where all should be New and Entertaining, (which he makes two Synonimous Terms). But with his good leave, (since he will • orce me to justifie my Common Notions) the commonest Notions are always the most proper Mediums, the best and surest Basis to reason upon, and are in themselves the strongest Arguments, for that they arise most naturally and easily out of any Subject. And therefore, whoever writes (Essay or Pamphlet) with a design to convince, must not neglect the use of them. The Sentence here produced as an Instance of my ordinary Common Stuff, [All the faculties of the Mind, whether active or passive, are mightily heightened and improved by Exercise] I am not at all ashamed of I still think it a good arg • ment, to evince the advantage of frequent application to Composition. If a Man would always resolve to write something that was never said or thought of before, his Productions might be▪ New indeed, but not therefore Entertaining; nay they must of Necessity be Whimsical and Ridiculous. We find very few Books upon the same Topicks, (tho' • enned by Authors of never such different Genius's) that do not for the most part use the 〈◊〉 Ge neral Arguments, and often interfere with one another: But that which commonly distinguishes them, is the particular Manner, the Style and Method of each Author. Not that I would affirm, that Men do not sometimes differ very materially in their Sentiments of the same things. What else has occasioned so many opposite Hypotheses, so many Disputes and Controversies, which have always employed the Pens of the Learned, and to which indeed are owing the greatest Progresses and Advances that have been made in Knowledge, both in past and present Ages? But I forget my Text. Another piece of Criticism is, that Tully was a better Poet than an Oratour, &c. I will take no advantage of the words Poet and Oratour being here transposed, because I believe it was through the Printer's Negligence; but I am not sure he would not have made himself merry with any such slip in my Book. He is guilty of as idle things. In this very place he quotes half a Sentence, puts his own Construction up▪ on it, and then makes me talk as like a Squire as he pleases. 'Tis true, (in the 39th. page of the Essay, which I suppose he refers to) I name Cicero; but it is only as an Instance to prove, that Invention i • any kind, will turn to some advantage or other, and that his application to Poetry was of great use to him in his Rhetorical Composures. But whether he was a better Poet or an Oratour, was a Controversie that did not lye much in my way, and I only hinted at it. To pronounce fully and clearly upon so doubtful a Question, to unriddle a Secret that had • ain hid so many Centuries, was reserved for some extraordinary Genius; such an Aedipus could arise only in Thebes or Athens. What follows, is transcribed from the Essay, and tartly applied to m • . But I think the Cap is put on at a Venture, without knowing or considering, whether it would fit or not. For he cannot make any Body else (if he can himself) believe, that I have betrayed the least Partiality, because Dr. Bentley is as freely handled as Christ-Church. Whatever either side may think of the Matter, I have honestly given them the real sense of the impartial part of the Town, about their Quarrel and way of Managing it. But if plain dealing can have no Effect upon them, let them e'en go on, and make sport for others by exposing themselves.

The next Paragraph is to inform all those whom it may concern, that I play boo • y▪ with Dr. B • ntley, and that upon second Thoughts I am more like Almanzor, than a Squire: Which (however important) I shall pass over in silence, as things that sufficiently answer themselves. But I canno • , I fear, make su • quick Work of that Paragraph which follows it. I have there a 〈◊〉 Scroll of Offences to answer to▪ and 〈◊〉 you may the better judge how • ar I am guilty, you must have the Patience to hear both sides.

In his first Attack upon the College, he takes Dr. Bentley's Method, and says peremptorily, Mr. Boyle's Name is falsly set to the late Answer to the Dissertation against Phalaris's Epistles, &c. and that he is sure he had no hand at all in it. This he does out of pure Complaisance to Mr. Boyl as a Gentleman, that there may be no Quarrel between them two; fo • he is resolv'd to cut and slash the Book to Pieces, and without any more to do, says it is full of nothing but little Witti • isms and School-Boys Jests. He begs leave of his Reader (being a very Civil Person) to suggest his own Opinion. And truly his Opinion is, that it was made (as most Compositions in that College are) by a Select Club: Every Man seems to have thrown in a Repartee, or so, in his Turn; and the most ingenious Dr. Aldrich, no doubt, was at the Head of them, and smoaked, and p • nned plentifully on this Occasion. A pretty Conceipt this! What a Dutch Image of Wit and Composition is here! I here is just as much Wit and Sence, as Probability and Good Manners in it. For when a Gentleman has affixed his Name to a Book, and owned it, shall any one that dares do neither, give him the Lye, and pretend Civility at the same time? It was a Clownish bold Piece of Freedom at first in Dr. Bentley, and now the same in this Ambuscado Writer. Such rude Treatment would have been abominable to any of Mr. Boyle's Quality, had he been a Man of no Note, had he never given any Proofs of his extraordinary Genius and great Learning to the World; and as the Case is quite otherwise, you and the Author must pardon, if I say it is downright impudent. But this is only a Sample of some more Behaviour of the same kind. He has plenty of such Civilities in store for the Dean and Students of Christ Church, who he takes to be the true Authors of the Book. But he does not trouble himself to answer them in any thing material; but without the least Provocation, takes their Manners most severely to Task, puts a mark upon them, and assures his Friend, that they distinguish themselves from the rest of the University, not by their extraordinary Learning, but their abominable Arrogance. He wonders how they can have the Confidence to condemn Pride in another, when they have so great a share of it themselves. He woul • very fain know, why it is not as excusable in Dr. Bentley, who is a Scholar, as in some young Men, who cannot reasonably be supposed to be so. He is very angry with the Dean, and admonishes him for encouraging this haughty proud Temper of theirs by his own Example; and as a strong Conviction that he does so, he calls a small Compendium of Logick to witness, in which the Dean was so unfortunate as to censure the Author of the Art of Thinking. I kno • not what Civilities T. R. Esq thinks are due to Forreigners; he is not very Courtly, I am sure, to his own Country men▪ But • arther; he ventures to affi • m, that the Compendium of Logick is one of the worst he ever read. The reason is, because it is writen in good Latin. A most unpardonable Fault ind • ed! Well, but this is not all: He has something more to quarrel with them about, and that is for calling Dr. Bentley Pedant, when he can prove th • m to be as rank Pedants themselves. For (says he) I take it to be as errant a Sign of Pedantry, to publish bad Edi • ions of old Authors, and to be highly solicitous about the various Readings of them, which former Editions have only neglected, because they were insignificant, as to lard English Writings with Greek and Latin. He is very much in the Right of it; but what is this to Christ-Chu • ch? Yes; it is directly levelled at it. For (he continues) Dr. Aldrich is pretty notorious at present for imploying his young unexperienced Students this way. I know not what he means by employing his young unexperienced Students: But I know, and under his Favour, it may be said without any Partiality at all, that those Books which have been put forth b • this College, both in the late Learned Dr. Fell's time, and the present Dean's too, have a very good Reputation, not only 〈◊〉 at home, but are likewise much approved by Forreigners abroad; which, I hope, will recommend them to Dr. Ben • ley's Esteem, whatever it may do to this Gentleman's. As for the late Edition of Aesop's Fables, it will be time enough to defend it when it is accused. Here the Preface is only concerned, for calling Dr. Bentley plain quidam. He would, I suppose, have had his Name ushered in with half a dozen Epithets of Respect; not considering how scurvily he is using Dr. Bentley's Betters all this whil • . But the next Charge bears hard upon them: For it is about no less than two Epigrams and one Verse, in a Poem, intituled, Articuli Pacis, • hich he has found in a Book late • y published, called, Examen Poericum duplex, &c. He is 〈◊〉 • olicitous (it being a Matter of va • t • onsequence) to discover the Author of them; and at last ventures to affirm, that either the Dean himself, or somebody els • made them. The Conjecture is not much unlike that of the D • ch C • mmentators about Horace's Mother, who, after all their Enquiry, could not b • • sitive who she was, but they una • imously agreed that he certainly had one. This being sag • ly premised; he proceeds to give D • . Bentley some Comfort, and to infuse a B • lm into the Wound, the Sting and Venom in the Tale of these wi • ked Epigrams might p • ssibly have made in his Mind, assuring him e • Critique. that these are by no means the best Copies in that Collection. As to this; if th • re was any need of an Apology (which I do not apprehend there is) it might be alledged as a good one, that that Collection was made privately by some Gentlemen, that did not think fit to own themselves, and the Poems spoke • of were inserted without the Author's Leave or Knowledge; and therefore they are not strictly obliged to account for them. But this is not very much to the Point in hand, and I shall wave it.

I am here at the same▪ loss I have been at all along, to find out any thing that will bear the least Examination; or indeed that looks like an Honest Defence. For to recite an Abuse (I give him his own Word) with a Pretence to answer it, and leave it unanswered, is certainly more injurious than the Abuse it self; which is the case before you. But because I believe he designed well, and meant his Friends and himself a real Service at the bottom, I will put his Objections in the clearest Light I can, and make the most of them. I am then chiefly accused of three things:

To all these Charges I plead not guilty. And first, I deny that I have either impudently or modestly robb'd Mr. Boyl of any Honour du • to him. For to argue • ith this A • ademick in his own way (i. e.) by way of Syllogism; because I wo • ld not be too serious in Asserting an ill-natur'd Truth.

If any Man puts his Name to a Book, which he is not the Author of, there is no impudence or injury in denying him a Title to it.

But Mr. Boyle has put his Name to a Book, which he is not the Autho • of.

Ergo.

If you are not yet convinced, I prove my Minor thus.

If Mr. Boyle has put his Name to a Book, which contains things he does not understand▪ then he has put his Name to a Book which he is not the Author of.

But Mr. Boyle has put his Name to a Book, which contains things h • does not understand.

Ergo again.

Another Hypothetick or two would clear the Point. But I trifle. Ther • is no need of shewing my Skill in Logick, or of endeavouring to make out that, which (like a first Principle) every Body takes for granted▪ Besides, to tell you the Truth, I am a little unwilling to push this Matter too far. I would be tender of a Hopeful young Gentleman's Reputation, if He and his Friends would be content with that Character, and not talk of his being a Man of Note, of his having given proofs of his extraordinary Genius and great Learning to the World, &c. All this indeed might be justly enough said of the late Mr. Boyle, who has written many Learned Treatises in Experimental Philosophy, and was the Ornament of the Royal Society; but not therefore of that Mr. Boyle, who has only published a faulty Edition of Phalaris' • Epistles; (for I do not pretend, but he might have a Hand in that Book, tho' not much in this last.) There seems to be a great stress laid upon his Quality; too as if it w • s a sort of Treason to appear against him. For my part, I am ready to pay all Respect▪ that is due to an Irish E • rl's young • Son, but then (waving the Cer • mony of giving him place) I think a Doctor of Divinity or an ind • pendent English Gentlem • n not much his inferiour. And I alledge it (in Kindness to him) as another Reason, that he did not write the Peice against Dr. Bentley, because it puts the Dr. more frequently in Mind of his Distance, than became any Man of never such high Birth to have done in the Contentions of Wit and Argument, where all must be allowed to be equal.

Secondly. I deny that I have insolently abused the Reverend and Worthy Dr. Aldrich. 'Tis true, I have taken Notice of his Smoaking and P • nning; but they are two very • ociable Qualites, and he has no Reason to be angry at me for it. He is not the only Clergy-man that takes Tobacco, nor the only Academick that puns. I must confess, he is a Punner of the first Rate; For the Town has been often obliged to him for good Catches, whi • h are the highest flights of that kind of Wit. But this is not all, I have called him a Proud Man, and abused his Logick. As to his Pride, I will say no more than what I hav already done; for my Design is not to brand his Reputation in so Tender a part. And as to his Compendium of Logick, I am sorry I men tioned it; for to decide whether there be any thing new in it, but the Language; and whether that Language is better for being labour'd and full of Elegant Phrases or not, is a Question, that concerns only the Fresh Men in the Universities; and I will now assign it over to them, and heartily ask their Pardon for invading their Province before.

Thirdly and Lastly. I deny, that I have ignorantly undervalued the ingenious Answer to Dr. Bentley, and the Christ-Church accurate Editions of Old Authors. But I will not here so much as recite any of those particular Witticisms and Passages, which displeased me when I perused this ingenious Celebrated Book; because I hear Dr. Bentley's Vindication is in the Press, and I am resolved not to interfere with him. It is sufficient for my present purpose, that it appears at first View to any Reader, to be done by several Hands. The Style and Matter is almost in every other Page of a different Complexion. One while you have something that looks a little Modest and Grave, and the Quotations managed to the best advantage. Pre • ently the Humour changes, and there is nothing to be met with, but Buffoonery and Unmannerly Jests with nothing in them. But it is Dr. Bentley's business (not mine) to detect and apply all their Errors. I have already exceeded the Limits of a Letter, and must hasten to the next thing; I must account for my speaking ill of their Editions of Old Authors, which (says my Friend) are Famous not only here at home, but are much approved by Forreigners abroad. If • his was true, what is the Meaning of the present Dispute with Dr. Bentley? But they are so far from being Books of any standing Value amongst other People, that they themselves are not long pleased with them. For many Authors, that were Published in Dr. Fell's Time, have been again Revised, Collated, Printed, Index'd, &c. in Dr. Aldrich's, and for any thing I know may undergoe the same Fate in the next Dean's too. As for the late Edition of Aesop's F • bles, I am told Dr. Bentley has Examined it very particularly, and proved it to be of the number of those, that neither deserve a good Reputation at home nor abroad. So that the same Reason, which made me conceal my Observations on their English Book, will oblige me to be silent here too; unless I would make my self a Party in the Quarrel; which I do not design to do, for all I am Dr. Bentley's dear Friend and Acquaintance. Here, Sir, I thought to have released you; for I was in hopes all had been pretty well over. But his Wit is inexhaustible: There is nothing so barren, which he cannot be fruitful and copious upon. Who else could have applied the Tale of the Dutch Commentators and Horace's Mother to two Epigrams? Any other Man would have told me bluntly, that if I had not been certain of what I said, I should have forborn my idle Conjectures. But to return him one ill Jest for another, I assure him, the Father of the Two Epigrams is not altogether so much unknown to me, as it seems Horace's Mother was to the Dutch-Commentators; and I did not only guess, when I laid them at a Doctor's Door. The Pretence of the Author's not being accountable for the abuses in them, because they were Printed without his Knowledge, is ridiculous, and of a Piece with the rest of his Arguments. They were not I hope Composed, Transcribed, and Dispersed without his Knowledge, which (had they not been harmless, inoffensive things) would have made them as much Libels as the Printing of them. Indeed it is an unfair Practice to betray a Man into Print. The Collectors▪ of the Examen, &c. should not have inserted them without leave, had they been never so Excellent, much l • ss when they hardly deserved a place in their Book. But one may guess by it (with Submission to the conjecturing Dutch Commentators) that they were no great Friends to Dr. Bentley neither, any more than the Author; and I some times 〈◊〉 , that we are secretly obliged to Christ-Church it self for that Miscellany, notwithstanding this Gentleman for some private Reasons publickly disclaims it. But, whencesoever it came, if it has given you any Divertisement in your Solitude, I have had my Desire, and there is an End of it.

There is yet another Paragraph behind, and so it is like to remain. For, besides that it has nothing in it but Your humble Servant Sir, I begin to blush almost as much for Examining, as the Author ought to do for writing this Pragmatical Rhapsody. Give me leave, Sir, to call it what I think I have fairly proved it to be; tho' (if I am not wrong informed) it was the Production of one that never doubted his own Sufficience and Abilities in all kinds of Poli • e Learning.