Such was the high interposition by which De Foe was relieved from Newgate, in August, 1704. In order to avoid the town-talk, he retired immediately to St. Edmund's Bury: but his retreat did not prevent persecution. Dyer, the newswriter, propagated that De Foe had fled from justice. Fox, the bookseller, published that he had deserted his security. Stephen, a state-messenger, everywhere said, that he had a warrant for seizing him. This I suppose was wit, during the witty age of Anne. In our duller days of law, such outrages would be referred to the judgment of a jury. De Foe informed the secretary of state where he was, and when he would appear; but he was told not to fear, as he had not transgressed. Notwithstanding this vexation, our author's muse produced, on the 29th of August, 1704, A Hymn to Victory, when the successful skill of Marlborough furnished our poets with many occasions to publish Gazettes in Rhyme[39]. De Foe opened the year 1704-5 with his Double Welcome to the duke of Marlborough; disclaiming any expectation of place or pension. His encomiastic strains, I fear, were not heard while he wrote like an honest Englishman, against the continuance of the war; a war indeed of personal glory, of national celebration, but of fruitless expense. De Foe's activity, or his needs, produced in March, 1705, The Consolidator; or, Memoirs of Sundry Transactions, from the World in the Moon. It was one of De Foe's felicities to catch the 'living manners as they rose,' or one of his resources, to 'shoot folly as it flew.' In the lunar language he applies his satiric file to the prominences of every character: of the poets, from Dryden to Durfy; of the wits, from Addison to Prior; of the metaphysicians, from Malbranche to Hobbes; of the freethinkers, from Asgyl to the Tale of a Tub. Our author continually complains of the ill usage of the world; but with all his acuteness he did not advert, that he who attacks the world, will be by the world attacked. He makes the lunar politicians debate the policy of Charles XII. in pursuing the Saxons and Poles, while the Muscovites ravaged his own people. I doubt whether it were on this occasion that the Swedish ambassador was so ill-advised as to complain against De Foe, for merited ridicule of a futile warfare[40]. They had not then discovered, that the best defence against the shafts of satire is to let them fly. Our author's sentiment was expanded by Johnson, in those energetic lines, which thus conclude the character of the Swedish Charles: "Who left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale."