A ROD for Trepidantium Malleus, OR A LETTER TO Sam. Reconcileable. Clodius accusat Moechos. Simulata sanctitas duplex iniquitas. LONDON, Printed, and sold by M. Fabian at Mercer's Chapel in Cheapside. 1700 A ROD FOR Trepidantium Malleus, OR A LETTER TO Sam. Reconcileable. SIR, COMING not long since into a Coffee-house, I happened to seat myself at a Table with three or four that were very eager in Discourse, and I soon found you was the Subject. One that pretended to have read your Books, and had enjoyed some of your Conversation, would not be persuaded but that the glimpse of Knavery was easily discoverable through your Fool's Dress, and that there lay some bad Design lurking at the bottom; whilst another thought it was too natural to be a Disguise, and that you had no occasion for a Mask to act that part: a third, to reconcile the other two, would needs have you a Compound of both. These Comments drew from me my Opinion, which was, That you had too much Learning for a Fool, and too little Wit for a Knave, but was stark staring Mad, had got off your Shackles, and deserted the College. And to this, upon mature deliberation, they seemed to assent, and very affectionately began to pity your Condition. What thanks I shall have for my pains, I know not, I doubt but little; especially should you chance to be of the same mind with one not long since tried for Murder, who when some of his Friends would have insinuated to the Court, that he was non compos mentis, in order to save him, contradicted it, and was very angry at the Reproach; he stood upon Rep— and would rather be hanged than be thought a Mad man (I'm sure had I been one of his Jury, I should have found him so) and if you are in the same Case with that Gentleman, (notwithstanding all your Invectives against the Party) you'll be found a rank Antinomian, for you will be out of the reach of the Law. And now I'm mentioning the Antinomians, by the way I cannot but give you a hint of your horrid Character of Dr. Crisp (whose Memory deserves respect for his Piety) and your abominable ridicule of the Work of Conversion, Second New Year's Gift, p. 14. and so on. in Salem Ben Sholomoh the Jew, in such fulsome Language, that he that has the largest extent of Charity, can hardly judge you to have undergone the Operation. And indeed that Consideration takes off some of the surprise raised by your scurrilous, 2d Friendly Epistle to G. Keith, p. 15. etc. base and profane Reflections upon the Administration, and Administrators of an Ordinance of God. If they are in the wrong, they ought to be used with Candour, and Civility, and not to be burlesqued, and so scandalously reproached with ill Language, 2d Friendly Epistle, p. 30. and false Stories, especially by one who has expressed so great a Respect for ' 'em. Ludere cum Sacris, was ever abhorred by all mere Moralists; and shall one of the Ministerial Function be guilty of it? A Man that would be thought so mightily gifted that way, that he takes the Liberty to find fault with, and run down almost, all as parcel of Pulpit Quacks: One that will undertake to bring up a Boy of twelve Years old to preach better than most of the Baptists about the Town, etc. And sayest thou so Sam? Then thou art like some clumsy-heeled Dancing-masters, that can teach their Scholars to perform better than themselves; for thou never didst mount the Pulpit in thy Life yet, without proving the truth of a saying that is often in thy Mouth, viz. That it is not so easy a thing to Preach, as some people think it to be. Perhaps you will not believe me, neither indeed can I reasonably expect you should, when I consider the good Opinion you have of yourself; but, Sir, though Self-conceit may have a very prevalent sway in the Concavity of your Cranium, 'tis strange it should sprout out in such Self-applause as both your Books and Discourses are continually larded with; 2d New Year's Gift to the Crispians, p. 13, 14. 2d Friendly Epistle to G. Keith, p. 19 especially, that being one of the great Crimes laid upon Mr. Baxter by yourself, and for which you so severely lashed him. Pray read over that part of your Book against Baxter which touches upon that Subject, and learn to chastise yourself thro' the sides of another. I remember some time since, when Mr. jacob's said, The Baptists went down into the Water with the Women only to feel 'em, etc. your Spirit was very warm, and you mighty zealous in upbraiding him for it, and could say, (nay, and print it too) none but a Debauchee would have been guilty of such stuff: so that your last Book calls you Debauchee to your Face, and we dare believe it in that, though not in many things else. I could not have expected from a Man of your Years (and a Conjunction Copulative too) such things as are charged upon you, had I not heard that your Wife (and in that she's a happy Woman) must lie alone (and has done ever since her Reign ended, and your Tyranny began) you having something to teach the young Men in Bed. Either Physicians are in the wrong, when they say 'tis unwholesome, or some People don't do well to advise the young Men to lie upon their Backs, with their hands by their Sides, whilst they read Lectures upon some of the outer parts, and set the poor things a gog (by their negative Advice) after what they might happily otherwise not think of; but I hope they have wit enough to consider who they make their Confessor. How old? how many times? when last? etc. are questions to be very cautiously answered, notwithstanding a promise they won't tell. In short, Sir, there are some things buzzed abroad concerning you that are almost incredible, and hardly to be imagined should be done by such a one as you would be thought, or indeed by any other that had not laid a Caustick to his Conscience, or gotten the Fly-flap of Formality to keep away the Flies from stinging it. What Man but yourself ever had the Face, or could be imagined impudent enough to appear in the World against the pretended immodesty of an Ordinance (as you have done) unless he could wipe himself clean from such Reflections as have oft and again been cast upon you Sir Flog-well, and still stick close to you? Good Pedagogue, you can never pretend your Discipline (as you call it) is for the Correction of your Scholars, but rather calculated for the Meridian of your own Diversion; for what Punishment is there in the stroke of a Feather, or why should you ring the Bells, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. upon the Boys Bums? Prithee, why so many at once? one such Object is enough at a time; so many, one would think, should distract your weak Optics, and make you as wild in your Senses, as you are in your Understanding. And indeed, Sir, I cannot forbear finding fault with your Method as well as your Manners, and censuring your Prudence as well as your Modesty (I don't say Chastity) 'Tis highly reasonable to think, that young Men of twenty or thirty years of Age, should better be wrought upon by Persuasion, than Bum-brushing. But remembering you are a mighty lover of Stories and Verses (which, as they are surreptitiously scraped up here and there, are as oddly jumbled together, and profusely and blunderingly fling away, without Design, and to no end in your Books) be pleased kindly to accept of such as may chance to drop from my Pen. A certain Apothecary sends his Man to administer a Clyster, that was prescribed by a Physician, for a Gentleman his Patient, who was sorely afflicted with the Headache; the man enters the Gentleman's Chamber, who demands Who's there? answer is made, the Apothecary. What has the Doctor ordered me? A Clyster, A Clyster! quoth the Gentleman, you Villain, you Rascal, the Doctor's a Fool to send a thing to put in my A— to cure my Head, and so drove him out of the Room. What Lines of Communication you have found out between the Head and Tail of a Scholar, I know not; but it seems very preposterous to suppose, that diminishing the podicical Covering, should increase the Understanding. I doubt Birch-Clysters don't work kindly: A Patient's Fancy does very much assist the Doctor's endeavours; and therefore I doubt you have but little success in your Practice, because your Patients cannot be persuaded into a good Opinion of their Physic, for they have a natural aversion to pain. I find you are one of Co— atch's followers, your Medicines are all Acids. And now, Sir, having considered your Case, I find Distraction the best excuse I can make to myself and others, for these enormous excursions of your nonintellectuals; which makes me a little commiserate your Case, and hearty advise you in your very next interval, to read Dr. Echard's Letter to the Author of Hieragonisticon, and use his Prescriptions; they exactly hit your Case; pray don't neglect it, delays being dangerous: He says you must avoid all hot things, as Coffee and Tobacco (and I believe not without reason, for they are apt to dry up the Brain, and when things are too dry they will crack) but above all you must avoid writing Books, till you find the Distemper pretty well assuaged, and then too but moderately, for fear of a Relapse. But if you can't forbear till then, pray whatever you writ in your fit (which is but all you writ) read over in an interval before it goes to the Press, and then I doubt not they will all receive their fate as truly (though not as duly) as if they were burnt by the hands of the common Hangman. Indeed some of those already published have answered the end proposed, 2d and last New Years Gift to the Crispians, page 11. and have proved good Physic. A Friend of mine lays 'em in a convenient Place, where the reading one Leaf is a gentle Purge, and then 'tis sent after the Operation; the fittest use they can be put to. And, Sir, was there no other reason why they should suffer, but because they are too bold and saucy with their Author, that was enough: for while they are Jesters to others, they make a jest of him. You seem in all your Writings to drive very hard for the Buskins; but, I must tell you, they are too noble an Ornament to adorn your Farce; for what you writ is as much below that reproved Author, as a Bartholomew-fair Droll is below Seneca's Tragedies. I must acknowledge you have hammered hard for a little Wit to divert the World, and therefore the World's very ungrateful it won't accept the Will for the Deed; and 'tis really very hard that you should print Books at your own Charge, and be at the Expense both of Purse and Brain to please, and all in vain: yet you have this comfortable Solace in the experience you have gained, you have found out the best way of putting off your Books of any Man in England. I am told, that when you was, not long since, chewing the Cud, without dividing the Hoof, in Noah ' s Ark (as you call it) you was telling a Story of a Man that cried Pears, twelve, sixteen, twenty a Penny, and none would buy, till at last he cried Pears for nothing, and then he soon emptied his Basket; so (said you) is it with my Books. Why Sam! what an unhappy Fellow art thou to lay the Rod in the way thus? For who, do you think, won't reply, the reason why the Pears would not sell, was, because they were not good? I remember a Passage I once met with in a Dramatic Poem called, The Folly of Priest▪ craft. Father Politico (who bears the Character of a plotting, intriguing Priest) order his Man Manuel to read the Intelligences which he had received out of the Country, what Men there were in the several Counties that were fit Tools to work with, in building up the Catholic Cause; and among the rest, There is a Fellow of a broad Face, and no Brains, the want of which is supplied by a great stock of Impudence, which enables him to rail against Popery in Billingsgate Language, without two grains of Sense or Reason— He gets a good quantity of Money in the Year, and preaches in a little Shed at the end of his House. Then mark him down (says Politico) and send an hundred Pounds to make his Shed bigger; there are more converted to us by hearing bad Sermons against Popery, than by hearing good ones for it. Whether this is worthy the Consideration of your Antagonists, must be left to them, and how far the Story reacheth their Case. But I am very apt to think, should they be at the Charge of printing all you write (rather than you should be silent) it would prove for the good of the Cause you oppose; and one of your Books against any Opinion, will make more Converts to it, than ten good Books writ for it. I find, old Ishmael, you are resolved to keep us in uncertainty to what Party you belong, and make us think you are a Man of no Religion, by your quarrelling with all as wrong. I did believe you a Presbyterian (if any thing) till I met with those scurrilous Sarcasms upon the two great Men of the Age of that Persuasion, 2d New Years Gift for the Crispians, p. 35, 36. Dr. B— s and Mr. H— w. 'Tis mean and pitiful to rake the Ashes of the Dead, as you do of the Doctor, (you know the old saying, De mortuis nil nisi bonum) but 'tis intolerable to stamp 'em with Falsities. I can find no truth in what you would insinuate, though I have often endeavoured it, and can make no shift to free it from the name of a Lie, but that it is too gross to deceive. And I doubt not but you thought yourself a fit Man to speak to the King, in the name of the Dissenters, than he that did it (whom the World knows to be a learned Man, and needs no Encomium from any but his own Works) as you have often implicitly seemed to assert. That would have been the ready way to have revived the obsolete name of Fanatic, and to have given the King just cause to reflect upon on the Liberty given to Madmen, as he must have judged them by their Representative. You needed not to have taken the trouble to acknowledge yourself a Man of but little Prudence, as you do in the thirty second page of your second New-Years-Gift, for I never yet could meet with the Man thought you had any. You tell us a Story, William Pen and the Quakers, either Impostors or Apostates, p. 30. that a Quaker Woman coming into a Church, and disturbing it by her speaking, was asked by a Boy, Who sent her there that Day? she replied, God; No, said the Boy, than you would not have spoken so many things contrary to the Scriptures; neither can I imagine the Devil sent thee, for I thought he had more wit than to send such a Fool about his Work: and the Quaker never disturbed 'em afterward. Who sent you I cannot determine. but I wish the recital of your own Story may have the same Effect upon you, and keep you from making any farther disturbance by your foolish Scribble. Can you look a little into your own Constitution, that would mightily help towards it, for there — You'd find Your Body made for Labour, not your Mind. I fear, should it come to be known who is the Author of this Letter, by any of the Judicious, I shall incur their Displeasure; most are apt to think that you aim at nothing more than the honour of being thought worth answering, and would be glad of having any thing writ against you, to introduce something more of your incontinent Scribble into the World. Should it prove so in this, I hearty beg their Pardon, and hope I shall never again be guilty of Midwifeing any of your Brats, or be the Cause of provoking you to plague the World with more of your Stuff. Indeed if you'll be as good as your word, I need not much fear it in this Cause, for you tell us, 2d Friendly Epistle to G. Keith, fol. 20, 34▪ That you never intent to write one word more upon this Subject (that is, of Baptism) unless a Reply by any worthy Divine or Scholar of theirs makes it necessary. Can you think, or suppose, a worthy Divine, and a Scholar, to be without any thing else to do, than to trouble his Head about you? and till than you cannot expect any one should; besides, Man, such a one would as much scorn to draw a Pen against thee, as a well bred Gentleman to draw his Sword upon a naked Cit I understand you threaten very hard any that shall dare to appear in Print against you, and yet you see 'tis done. In the name of him you shall happen to pitch upon to rail at, as the Author of this Letter, I send you defiance in six Lines of Sir Carr Scroop to my Lord Rochester, upon his Lordship's having written something against him. Rail on poor feeble Scribbler, speak of me In as bad terms as the World speaks of thee: Sat swelling in thy Hole like a vexed Toad; Thy Venom, and thy Malice spit abroad; Thou canst hurt no Man's Name by thy ill word, Thy Pen is full as harmless as thy Sword. Philosensus. POSTSCRIPT. PErhaps some who may chance to peruse this Letter, may cavil at, and find fault with the Method I have taken, and the Style I have used in writing to the Quakers Beetle (head). Those that do, I desire to accept of this for Answer; I have endeavoured, as much as I could, to imitate the Gentleman, and fight him at his own Weapons, and therefore I have foisted in several Stories (and some of them abruptly) that I might come as near I could to my Copy. And if I'm accused for being so severe upon him, take his own Reason for the same thing, in his Book called William Pen and the Quakers, either Impostors or Apostates, etc. page 61. Quacks and Jugglers, and foolish pretenders to any thing, are not to be treated as wise and sober Men; Answer, says the wisest of Men, a Fool according to his Folly, lest he be wise in his own Conceit, Prov. 26.5. FINIS.