'This I thought had all the civility and reason in the world in it; but whether my letters are intercepted, or whatever it is, the lady patches as she used to do. It is observed by all the charitable society, as an instruction in their epistles, that they tell people of nothing but what is in their power to mend. I shall give another instance of this way of writing: two sisters in Essex Street are eternally gaping out of the window, as if they knew not the value of time, or would call in companions. Upon which I writ the following line:—
'"Dear Creatures,—On the receipt of this, shut your casements."
'But I went by yesterday, and found them still at the window. What can a man do in this case, but go in and wrap himself up in his own integrity, with satisfaction only in this melancholy truth, that virtue is its own reward; and that if no one is the better for his admonitions, yet he is himself the more virtuous, in that he gave those advices?'
No. 79. The 'Tatler.'—Oct. 11, 1709.
Mr. Bickerstaff's sister Jenny is going to be married. The 'Tatler' tells the following anecdote, as a warning 'to be above trifles:'—
'This, dear Jenny, is the reason that the quarrel between Sir Harry and his lady, which began about her squirrel, is irreconcilable. Sir Harry was reading a grave author; she runs into his study, and, in a playing humour, claps the squirrel upon the folio: he threw the animal, in a rage, on the floor; she snatches it up again, calls Sir Harry a sour pedant, without good nature or good manners. This cast him into such a rage, that he threw down the table before him, kicked the book round the room, then recollected himself: "Lord, madam," said he, "why did you run into such expressions? I was," said he, "in the highest delight with that author when you clapped your squirrel upon my book;" and smiling, added upon recollection, "I have a great respect for your favourite, and pray let us be all friends." My lady was so far from accepting this apology, that she immediately conceived a resolution to keep him under for ever, and, with a serious air, replied, "There is no regard to be had to what a man says who can fall into so indecent a rage and an abject submission in the same moment, for which I absolutely despise you." Upon which she rushed out of the room. Sir Harry stayed some minutes behind, to think and command himself; after which he followed her into her bed-chamber, where she was prostrate upon the bed, tearing her hair, and naming twenty coxcombs who would have used her otherwise. This provoked him to so high a degree that he forbade nothing but beating her; and all the servants in the family were at their several stations listening, whilst the best man and woman, the best master and mistress, defamed each other in a way that is not to be repeated even at Billingsgate. You know this ended in an immediate separation: she longs to return home, but knows not how to do it; and he invites her home every day. Her husband requires no submission of her; but she thinks her very return will argue she is to blame, which she is resolved to be for ever, rather than acknowledge it.'
