of the learned world. This is the more necessary, because there seems to be a general combination among the pedants to extol one another's labours, and cry up one another's parts; while men of sense either through that modesty which is natural to them, or the scorn they have for such trifling commendations, enjoy their stock of knowledge, like a hidden treasure, with satisfaction and silence. Pedantry indeed in learning is like hypocrisy in religion, a form of knowledge without the power of it; that attracts the eyes of the common people; breaks out in noise and show; and finds its reward not from any inward pleasure that attends it, but from the praises and approbations which it receives from men.

Of this shallow species there is not a more impor tunate, empty, and conceited animal, than that which is generally known by the name of a critic. This, in the common acceptation of the word, is one that, without entering into the sense and soul of an author, has a few general rules, which, like mechanical instruments, he applies to the works of every writer; and, as they quadrate with them, pronounces the author perfect or defective. He is master of a certain set of words, as 'unity, style, fire, phlegm, easy, natural, turn, sentiment,' and the like; which he varies, compounds, divides, and throws together, in every part of his discourse, without any thought or meaning. The marks you may know him by are, an elevated eye, and dogmatical brow, a positive voice, and a contempt for every thing that comes out, whether he has read it or not. He dwells altogether in generals. He praises or dispraises in the lump. He shakes his head very frequently at the pedantry of universities, and bursts into laughter when you mention an author that is not known at Will's. He hath formed his judgment upon Homer, Horace, and Virgil, not from

their own works, but from those of Rapin and Bossu. He knows his own strength so well, that he never dares praise any thing in which he has not a French author for his voucher.

With these extraordinary talents and accomplishments, Sir Timothy Tittle' puts men in vogue, or condemns them to obscurity; and sits as judge of life and death upon every author that appears in public. It is impossible to represent the pangs, agonies, and convulsions, which Sir Timothy expresses in every feature of his face, and muscle of his body, upon the reading of a bad poet.

About a week ago, I was engaged at a friend's house of mine, in an agreeable conversation with his wife and daughters, when in the height of our mirth Sir Timothy, who makes love to my friend's eldest daughter, came in amongst us, puffing and blowing as if he had been very much out of breath. He immediately called for a chair, and desired leave to sit down without any further ceremony. I asked him, where he had been? whether he was out of order? He only replied, that he was quite spent, and fell a cursing in soliloquy. I could hear him cry, 'A wicked rogue-An execrable wretch-Was there ever such a monster!'-The young ladies upon this began to be affrighted, and asked, whether any one had hurt him? He answered nothing, but still talked to himself. 'To lay the first scene,' says he, ' in St. James's-park, and the last in Northamptonshire !'—' Is that all !' said I. 'Then I suppose you have been at the rehearsal

Thought to have been Henry Cromwell, esq; who is said to have been also characterised in the Tatler, under the fictitious names of Squire Easy, the amorous Bard; of Sir Taffety Trippet, the fortune-hunter in No 47; and of Limberham, in No 49.

of a play this morning.'-' Been!' says he, I have been at Northampton, in the Park, in a lady's bedchamber, in a dining-room, every where; the rogue has led me such a dance' Though I could scarce forbear laughing at his discourse, I told him I was glad it was no worse, and that he was only metaphorically weary. 'In short, sir,' says he, the author has not observed a single unity in his whole play; the scene shifts in every dialogue; the villain has hurried me up and down at such a rate, that I am tired off my legs.' I could not but observe, with some pleasure, that the young lady whom he made love to, conceived a very just aversion towards him, upon seeing him so very passionate in trifles. And as she had that natural sense which makes her a better judge than a thousand critics, she began to rally him upon this foolish humour. For my part,' says she, ‘I never knew a play take that was written up to your rules, as you call them.'-'How, madam!' says he, 'is that your opinion? I am sure you have a better taste. It is a pretty kind of magic,' says she, 'the poets have, to transport an audience from place to place without the help of a coach and horses; I could travel round the world at such a rate. It is such an entertainment as an enchantress finds when she fancies herself in a wood, or upon a mountain, at a feast, or a solemnity; though at the same time she has never stirred out of her cottage.'-'Your simile, madam,' says Sir Timothy, is by no means just.' 'Pray,' says she, let my similes pass without a criticism. I must confess,' continued she, (for I found she was resolved to exasperate him) I laughed very heartily at the last new comedy which you found so much fault with.'-' But, madam,' says he, 'you ought not to have laughed; and I defy any one to shew me a single rule that you could laugh by.'-Ought not

to laugh!' says she; 'pray who should hinder me?' 'Madam,' says he, there are such people in the world as Rapin, Dacier, and several others, that ought to have spoiled your mirth.'-'I have heard,' says the young lady, that your great critics are always very bad poets: I fancy there is as much difference between the works of the one and the other, as there is between the carriage of a dancing-master and a gentleman. I must confess,' continued she, I would not be troubled with so fine a judgment as yours is; for I find you feel more vexation in a bad comedy, than I do in a deep tragedy.'-'Madam,' says Sir Timothy, that is not my fault; they should learn the art of writing.'-For my part,' says the young lady, 'I should think the greatest art in your writers of comedies is to please.'To please! says Sir Timothy; and immediately fell a laughing. Truly, says she, that is my opinion.' Upon this, he composed his countenance, looked upon his watch, and took his leave.

I hear that Sir Timothy has not been at my friend's house since this notable conference, to the great satisfaction of the young lady, who by this means has got rid of a very impertinent fop.

I must confess I could not but observe, with a great deal of surprise, how this gentleman, by his illnature, folly, and affectation, had made himself capable of suffering so many imaginary pains, and looking with such a senseless severity upon the common diversions of life.

ADDISON.

N° 166. TUESDAY, MAY 2, 1710.

-Dicenda, tacenda locutus.

HOR. Lib. 1. Ep. vii. 72.

-He said,

Or right or wrong, what came into his head.

FRANCIS.

White's Chocolate-house, May 1.

THE world is so overgrown with singularities in behaviour, and method of living, that I have no sooner laid before mankind the absurdity of one species of men, but there starts up to my view some new sect of impertinents that had before escaped notice. This afternoon, as I was walking with fine Mrs. Sprightly's porter, and desiring admittance upon an extraordinary occasion, it was my fate to be spied by Tom Modely riding by in his chariot. He did me the honour to stop, and asked, what I did there on a Monday? I answered, that I had business of importance, which I wanted to communicate to the lady of the house. Tom is one of those fools, who look upon knowledge of the fashion to be the only liberal science; and was so rough as to tell me, that a well-bred man would as soon call upon a lady, who keeps a day at midnight, as on any day but that which she professes being at home. There are rules and decorums, adds he, which are never to be transgressed by those who understand the world; and he who offends in that kind, ought not to take it ill if he is turned away, even when he sees the person look out at her window whom he inquires for. Nay,' said he, my lady Dimple is so positive in this rule, that she takes it for