From Tuesday, Sept. 20, to Thursday, Sept. 22, 1709.

From my own Apartment, Sept. 21.

I have long been against my inclination employed in satire, and that in prosecution of such persons who are below the dignity of the true spirit of it; such who I fear are not to be reclaimed by making them only ridiculous. The sharpers therefore shall have a month's time to themselves free from the observation of this paper; but I must not make a truce without letting them know, that at the same time I am preparing for a more vigorous war; for a friend of mine has promised me, he will employ his time in compiling such a tract before the session of the ensuing Parliament, as shall lay gaming home to the bosoms of all who love their country or their families; and he doubts not but it will create an Act, that shall make these rogues as scandalous as those less mischievous ones on the highroad. I have received private intimations to take care of my walks, and remember there are such things as stabs and blows: but as there never was anything in this design which ought to displease a man of honour, or which was not designed to offend the rascals, I shall give myself very little concern for finding what I expected, that they would be highly provoked at these lucubrations. But though I utterly despise the pack, I must confess I am at a stand at the receipt of the following letter, which seems to be written by a man of sense and worth, who has mistaken some passage that I am sure was not levelled at him. This gentleman's complaints give me compunction, when I neglect the threats of the rascals. I can't be in jest with the rogues any longer, since they pretend to threaten. I don't know whether I shall allow them the favour of transportation.

"Mr. Bickerstaff,

Sept. 13.

"Observing you are not content with lashing the many vices of the age, without illustrating each with particular characters, it is thought nothing would more contribute to the impression you design by such, than always having regard to truth. In your Tatler of this day,[169] I observe you allow, that nothing is so tender as a lady's reputation; that a stain once got in their fame, is hardly ever to be washed out. This you grant even when you give yourself leave to trifle. If so, what caution is necessary in handling the reputation of a man, whose wellbeing in this life perhaps entirely depends on preserving it from any wound, which once there received, too often becomes fatal and incurable? Suppose some villainous hand, through personal prejudice, transmits materials for this purpose, which you publish to the world, and afterwards become fully convinced you were imposed on (as by this time you may be of a character you have sent into the world); I say, supposing this, I would be glad to know, what reparation you think ought to be made the person so injured, admitting you stood in his place. It has always been held, that a generous education is the surest mark of a generous mind. The former is indeed perspicuous in all your papers; and I am persuaded, though you affect often to show the latter, yet you would not keep any measures (even of Christianity) with those who should handle you in the manner you do others. The application of all this is from your having very lately glanced at a man, under a character, that were he conscious to deserve, he would be the first to rid the world of himself; and would be more justifiable in it to all sorts of men, than you in your committing such a violence on his reputation, which perhaps you may be convinced of in another manner than you deserve from him.

"A man of your capacity, Mr. Bickerstaff, should have more noble views, and pursue the true spirit of satire; but I will conclude, lest I grow out of temper, and will only beg for your own preservation, to remember the proverb of the pitcher.

"I am Yours,

A. J."

The proverb of the pitcher I have no regard to; but it would be an insensibility not to be pardoned, if a man could be untouched at so warm an accusation, and that laid with so much seeming temper. All I can say to it is, that if the writer, by the same method whereby he conveyed this letter, shall give me an instance wherein I have injured any good man, or pointed at anything which is not the true object of raillery, I shall acknowledge the offence in as open a manner as the press can do it, and lay down this paper for ever. There is something very terrible in unjustly attacking men in a way that may prejudice their honour or fortune; but when men of too modest a sense of themselves will think they are touched, it is impossible to prevent ill consequences from the most innocent and general discourses. This I have known happen in circumstances the most foreign to theirs who have taken offence at them. An advertisement lately published, relating to Omicron,[170] alarmed a gentleman of good sense, integrity, honour, and industry, which is, in every particular, different from the trifling pretenders pointed at in that advertisement. When the modesty of some is as excessive as the vanity of others, what defence is there against misinterpretation? However, giving disturbance, though not intended, to men of virtuous characters, has so sincerely troubled me, that I will break from this satirical vein; and to show I very little value myself upon it, shall for this month ensuing leave the sharper, the fop, the pedant, the proud man, the insolent; in a word, all the train of knaves and fools, to their own devices, and touch on nothing but panegyric. This way is suitable to the true genius of the Staffs, who are much more inclined to reward than punish. If therefore the author of the above-mentioned letter does not command my silence wholly, as he shall if I do not give him satisfaction, I shall for the above-mentioned space turn my thoughts to raising merit from its obscurity, celebrating virtue in its distress, and attacking vice by no other method but setting innocence in a proper light.

Will's Coffee-house, Sept. 20.

I find here for me the following letter:[171]

"Squire Bickerstaff,

"Finding your advice and censure to have a good effect, I desire your admonition to our vicar and schoolmaster, who in his preaching to his auditors, stretches his jaws so wide, that instead of instructing youth, it rather frightens them: likewise in reading prayers, he has such a careless loll, that people are justly offended at his irreverent posture; besides the extraordinary charge they are put to in sending their children to dance, to bring them off of those ill gestures. Another evil faculty he has, in making the bowling-green his daily residence, instead of his church, where his curate reads prayers every day. If the weather is fair, his time is spent in visiting; if cold or wet, in bed, or at least at home, though within a hundred yards of the church. These, out of many such irregular practices, I write for his reclamation: but two or three things more before I conclude; to wit, that generally when his curate preaches in the afternoon, he sleeps sitting in the desk on a hassock. With all this, he is so extremely proud, that he will go but once to the sick, except they return his visit."

I was going on in reading my letter, when I was interrupted by Mr. Greenhat, who has been this evening at the play of "Hamlet." "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "had you been to-night at the play-house, you had seen the force of action in perfection: your admired Mr. Betterton[172] behaved himself so well, that, though now about seventy, he acted youth; and by the prevalent power of proper manner, gesture and voice, appeared through the whole drama a young man of great expectation, vivacity, and enterprise. The soliloquy, where he began the celebrated sentence of, 'To be, or not to be;' the expostulation where he explains with his mother in her closet; the noble ardour, after seeing his father's ghost, and his generous distress for the death of Ophelia, are each of them circumstances which dwell strongly upon the minds of the audience, and would certainly affect their behaviour on any parallel occasions in their own lives. Pray, Mr. Bickerstaff, let us have virtue thus represented on the stage with its proper ornaments, or let these ornaments be added to her in places more sacred. As for my part," said he, "I carried my cousin Jerry, this little boy, with me, and shall always love the child for his partiality in all that concerned the fortune of Hamlet. This is entering youth into the affections and passions of manhood beforehand, and as it were antedating the effects we hope from a long and liberal education."

I cannot in the midst of many other things which press, hide the comfort that this letter from my ingenious kinsman gives me.

"To my Honoured Kinsman, Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.

"Dear Cousin,

Oxford, Sept. 18.

"I am sorry, though not surprised, to find that you have rallied the men of dress in vain; that the amber-headed cane still maintains its unstable post; that pockets are but a few inches shortened; and a beau is still a beau, from the crown of his nightcap to the heels of his shoes. For your comfort, I can assure you, that your endeavours succeed better in this famous seat of learning. By them, the manners of our young gentlemen are in a fair way of amendment, and their very language is mightily refined. To them it is owing, that not a servitor will sing a catch, not a senior fellow make a pun, not a determining bachelor drink a bumper; and I believe a gentleman commoner would as soon have the heels of his shoes red as his stockings. When a witling stands at a coffee-house door, and sneers at those who pass by, to the great improvement of his hopeful audience, he is no longer surnamed a slicer, but a man of fire is the word. A beauty, whose health is drunk from Heddington to Hinksey,[173] who has been the theme of the Muses (her cheeks painted with roses, and her bosom planted with orange boughs), has no more the title of lady, but reigns an undisputed toast. When to the plain garb of gown and band a spark adds an inconsistent long wig, we do not say now he boshes, but there goes a smart fellow. If a virgin blushes, we no longer cry the blues. He that drinks till he stares, is no more tow-row, but honest. A youngster in a scrape, is a word out of date; and what bright man says, I was Joabed by the dean: bamboozling is exploded; a shat is a tattler; and if the muscular motion of a man's face be violent, no mortal says, he raises a horse, but he is a merry fellow.

"I congratulate you, my dear kinsman, upon these conquests; such as Roman emperors lamented they could not gain; and in which you rival your correspondent Lewis le Grand, and his dictating academy.

"Be yours the glory to perform, mine to record (as Mr. Dryden has said before me to his kinsman);[174] and while you enter triumphant into the temple of the Muses, I, as my office requires, will, with my staff on my shoulder, attend and conduct you. I am, Dear cousin,

"Your most affectionate Kinsman,

Benjamin Beadlestaff."[175]

Upon the humble application of certain persons who have made heroic figures in Mr. Bickerstaff's narrations, notice is hereby given, that no such shall ever be mentioned for the future, except those who have sent menaces, and not submitted to admonition.