Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

and so great a lover of knowledge, that he made a voyage to grand Cairo for no other reason but to take the measure of a pyramid. His chief friend was one Sir Roger de Coverley, a whimsical country knight and a Templar, whose name he has not transmitted to us. He lived as a lodger at the house of a widow-woman, and was a great humourist in all parts of his life. This is all we can affirm with any certainty of his person and character. As for his speculations, notwithstanding the several obsolete words and obscure phrases of the age in which he lived, we still understand enough of them to see the diversions and characters of the English nation in his time: not but that we are to make allowance for the mirth and humour of the author, who has doubtless strained many representations of things beyond the truth. For if we interpret his words in their literal meaning, we must suppose that women of the first quality used to pass away whole mornings at a puppet-show that they attested their principles by their patches that an audience would sit out an❘ evening, to hear a dramatical performance written in a language which they did not understand that chairs and flower-pots were introduced as actors upon the British stage: that a promiscuous assembly of men and women were allowed to meet at midnight in masks within the verge of the court; with many improbabilities of the like nature. We must, therefore, in these and the like cases, suppose that these remote hints and allusions aimed at some certain follies which were then in vogue, and which at present we have not any notion of. We may guess by several passages in the speculations, that there were writers who endeavoured to detract from the works of this author: but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot guess at any objections that could be made to this paper. If we consider his style with that indulgence which we must shew to old English writers, or if we look into the variety of his subjects, with those several critical dissertations, moral reflections,

:

[blocks in formation]

I Do not know whether to call the following letter a satire upon coquettes, or a representation of their several fantastical accomplishments, or what other title to give it; but, as it is, I shall communicate it to the public. It will sufficiently explain its own intentions, so that I shall give it my reader at length, without either preface or postscript.

"MR. SPECTATOR, "Women are armed with fans as men with swords, and sometimes do more execution with them. To the end, therefore, that ladies may be entire mistresses of the weapon they bear, I have erected an academy for the training up of young women in the exercise of the fan, according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practised at court. The ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a-day in my great hall, where they are instructed in the use of their arms, and exercised by the following words of command; Handle

your fans, Unfurl your fans, Discharge your fans, Ground your fans, Recover, your fans, Flutter your fans. By the right observation of these few plain words of command, a woman of a tolerable genius, who will apply herself diligently to her exercise for the space of but one half-year, shall be able to give her fan all the graces that can possibly enter into that little modish machine.

"But to the end that my readers may form to themselves a right notion of this exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them in all its parts. When my female regiment is drawn up in array, with every one her weapon in her hand, upon my giving the word to Handle their fans, each of them shakes her fan at me with a smile, then gives her right-hand woman a tap upon the shoulder, then presses her lips with the extremity of her fan, then lets her arms fall in an easy motion, and stands in readiness to receive the next word of command. All this is done with a close fan, and is generally learned in the first week.

"The next motion is that of Unfurling the fan, in which are comprehended several little flirts and vi⚫ brations, as also gradual and deliberate openings, with many voluntary fallings asunder in the fan it self, that are seldom learned under a month's prac. tice. This part of the exercise pleases the spectators more than any other, as it discovers on a sudden an infinite number of cupids, garlands, altars, birds, beasts, rainbows, and the like agreeable figures that display themselves to view-whilst every one in the regiment holds a picture in her hand.

"Upon my giving the word to Discharge their fans, they give one general crack that may be heard at a considerable distance when the wind sets fair. This is one of the most difficult parts of the exercise: but I have several ladies with me, who at their first entrance could not give a pop loud enough to be heard at the farther end of a room, who can now discharge a fan in such a manner, that it shall make a report like a pocket-pistol. I have likewise taken care (in order to hinder young women from letting off their fans in wrong places or on unsuitable occasions) to shew upon what subject the crack of a fan may come in properly: I have likewise invented a fan, with which a girl of sixteen, by the help of a little wind which is enclosed about one of the largest sticks, can make as loud a crack as a woman of fifty with an ordinary fan.

"When the fans are thus discharged, the word of command, in course, is to Ground their fans. This teaches a lady to quit her fan gracefully when she throws it aside in order to take up a pack of cards, adjust a curl of hair, replace a falling pin, or apply herself to any other matter of importance. This part of the exercise, as it only consists in tossing a fan with an air upon a long table (which stands by for that purpose), may be learned in two days' time as well as in a twelvemonth.

"When my female regiment is thus disarmed, I generally let them walk about the room for some time; when, on a sudden (like ladies that look upon their watches after a long visit), they all of them hasten to their arms, catch them up in a hurry, and place themselves in their proper stations, upon my calling out, Recover your fans. This part of the exercise is not difficult, provided a woman applies her thoughts to it.

"The fluttering of the fan is the last, and indeed the master-piece of the whole exercise; but if a lady does not mis-spend her time, she may make herself mistress of it in three months. I generally lay

aside the dog-days and the hot time of the summer on this occasion, and treats it with a more than or for the teaching this part of the exercise; for as soon as ever I pronounce, Flutter your fans, the place is filled with so many zephyrs and gentle breezes as are very refreshing in that season of the year, though they might be dangerous to ladies of a tender constitution in any other.

dinary simplicity, at once to be a preacher and an example. With what command of himself does he lay before us, in the language and temper of his profession, a fault which, by the least liberty and warmth of expression, would be the most lively wit and satire! But his heart was better disposed, and the good man chastised the great wit in such a manner, that he was able to speak as follows:

[ocr errors]

"There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the flutter of a fan. There is the angry flutter, the modest flutter, the timorous flutter, -Amongst too many other instances of the and the amorous flutter. Not to be tedious, there great corruption and degeneracy of the age wherein is scarce any emotion in the mind which does not we live, the great and general want of sincerity in produce a suitable agitation in the fan; insomuch, conversation is none of the least. The world is that if I only see the fan of a disciplined lady, I grown so full of dissimulation and compliment, that know very well whether she laughs, frowns, or men's words are hardly any signification of their blushes. I have seen a fan so very angry, that it thoughts; and if any man measure his words by his would have been dangerous for the absent lover who heart, and speak as he thinks, and do not express provoked it to have come within the wind of it; more kindness to every man than men usually have and at other times so very languishing, that I have for any man, he can hardly escape the censure of been glad for the lady's sake the lover was at a suffi- want of breeding. The old English plainness and cient distance from it. I need not add, that a fan sincerity-that generous integrity of nature, and is either a prude or coquette, according to the na-honesty of disposition, which always argues true ture of the person who bears it. To conclude my greatness of mind and is usually accompanied with letter, I must acquaint you that I have from my undaunted courage and resolution, is in a great meaown observation compiled a little treatise for the use sure lost amongst us. There hath been a long enof my scholars, entitled, The Passions of the Fan; deavour to transform us into foreign manners and which I will communicate to you, if you think it fashions, and to bring us to a servile imitation of may be of use to the public. I shall have a general none of the best of our neighbours, in some of the review on Thursday next; to which you shall be worst of their qualities. The dialect of conversavery welcome if you will honour it with your pre- tion is now-a-days so swelled with vanity and comI am, &c. pliment, and so surfeited (as, I may say) of expressions of kindness and respect, that if a man that lived an age or two ago should return into the world again, he would really want a dictionary to help him to understand his own language, and to know the true intrinsic value of the phrase in fashion-and would hardly at first believe at what a low rate the highest strains and expressions of kindness imaginable do commonly pass in current payment: and when he should come to understand it, it would be a great while before he could bring himself with a good countenance and a good conscience to converse with men upon equal terms, and in their own way.

sence.

“P.S. I teach young gentlemen the whole art of gallanting a fan.

"N.B. I have several little plain fans made for this use, to avoid expense."

No. 103.] THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 1711.

-Sibi quivis

Speret idem, sudet multum, frustraque laboret
Ausus idem-
HOR. Ars Poet. v. 240.
Such all might hope to imitate with ease:
Yet while they strive the same success to gain,
Should find their labour and their hopes are vain.

FRANCIS.

My friend the divine having been used with words of complaisance (which he thinks could be properly applied to no one living, and I think could be only spoken of him, and that in his absence), was so extremely offended with the excessive way of speaking civilities among us, that he made a discourse against it at the club, which he concluded with this remark, "that he had not heard one compliment made in our society since its commencement." Every one was pleased with his conclusion; and as each knew his good-will to the rest, he was convinced that the many professions of kindness and service, which we ordinarily meet with, are not natural where the heart is well inclined: but are a prostitution of speech, seldom intended to mean any part of what they express, never to mean all they express. Our reverend friend, upon this topic, pointed to us two or three paragraphs on this subject in the first sermon of the first volume of the late archbishop's posthumous works. I do not know that I ever read any thing that pleased me more; and as it is the praise of Longinus, that he speaks of the sublime in a style suitable to it, so one may say of this author upon sincerity, that he abhors any pomp of rhetoric

See Archbishop Tillotson's Sermon on Sincerity, from John, chap. i. ver. 47, being the last discourse he preached, July 23, 1694. He died Nov. 24, following.

"And in truth it is hard to say, whether it should more provoke our contempt or our pity, to hear what solemn expressions of respect and kindness will pass between men, almost upon no occasion; how great honour and esteem they will declare for one whom perhaps they never saw before, and how entirely they are all on the sudden devoted to his service and interest, for no reason; how infinitely and eternally obliged to him, for no benefit; and how extremely they will be concerned for him, yea, and afflicted too, for no cause. I know it is said, in justification of this hollow kind of conversation, that there is no harm, no real deceit in compliment, but the matter is well enough, so long as we understand one another; et verba valent ut nummi, "words are like money ;" and when the current value of them is generally understood, no man is cheated by them, This is something, if such words were any thing; but being brought into the account, they are mere ciphers. However it is still a just matter of complaint, that sincerity and plainness are out of fashion, and that our language is running into a lie; that men have almost quite perverted the use of speech, and made words to signify nothing; that the greatest part of the conversation of mankind is little else but driving a trade of dissimulation; insomuch that it would make a man heartily sick and weary of the World, to see the little security that is in use and practice among men."

When the vice is placed in this contemptuous light, he argues unanswerably against it, in words and thoughts so natural, that any man who reads them would imagine he himself could have been the author of them.

"If the shew of any thing be good for any thing, I am sure sincerity is better: for why does any man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is not, but because he thinks it good to have such a quality as he pretends to? For to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the appearance of some real excellency. Now the best way in the world to seem to be any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be. Besides, that it is many times as troublesome to make good the pretence of a good quality, as to have it; and if a man have it not, it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it; and then all his pains and labour to seem to have it, are lost."

In another part of the same discourse he goes on to shew, that all artifice must naturally tend to the disappointment of him that practises it.

among all orders of men; nay, the very women, though themselves created as it were for ornament, are often very much mistaken in this ornamental part of life. It would, methinks, be a short rule for be haviour, if every young lady in her dress, words, and actions, were only to recommend herself as a sister, daughter, or wife, and make herself the more esteemed in one of those characters. The care of themselves with regard to the families in which women are born, is the best motive for their being courted to come into the alliance of other houses. Nothing can promote this end more than a strict preservation of decency. I should be glad if a certain equestrian order of ladies, some of whom one meets in an evening at every outlet of the town, would take this subject into their serious consideration. In order thereunto the following letter may not be wholly unworthy their perusal.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"Going lately to take the air in one of the most beautiful evenings this season has produced; as I "Whatsoever convenience may be thought to be was admiring the serenity of the sky, the lively coin falsehood and dissimulation, it is soon over; but lours of the fields, and the variety of the landscape the inconvenience of it is perpetual, because it every way around me, my eyes were suddenly called brings a man under an everlasting jealousy and sus-off from these inanimate objects by a little party of picion, so that he is not believed when he speaks truth, nor trusted when perhaps he means honestly. When a man has once forfeited the reputation of his integrity, he is set fast, and nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor falsehood."-R.

No. 104] FRIDAY, JUNE 29, 1711.
Qualis equos Threissa fatigat
Harpalyce VIRG. Æn. i. 316.
With such array Harpalyce bestrode
Her Thracian courser.-DRYDEN.

It would be a noble improvement, or rather a recovery of what we call good-breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst us for agreeable which was the least transgression against that rule of life called decorum, or a regard to decency. This would command the respect of mankind, because it carries in it deference to their good opinion, as humility lodged in a worthy mind is always attended with a certain homage which no haughty soul, with all the arts imaginable, will ever be able to purchase.

Tully says, virtue and decency are so nearly related, that it is difficult to separate them from each other but in our imagination. As the beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, so certainly is decency concomitant to virtue. As beauty of body, with an agreeable carriage, pleases the eye, and that pleasure consists in that we observe all the parts with a certain elegance are proportioned to each other; so does decency of behaviour which appears in our lives obtain the approbation of all with whom we converse, from the order, consistency, and moderation of our words and actions. This flows from the reverence we bear towards every good man and to the world in general; for to be negligent of what any one thinks of you, does not only show you arrogant, but abandoned. In all these considerations we are to distinguish how one virtue differs from another. As it is the part of justice never to do violence, it is of modesty never to commit offence. In the last particular lies the whole force of what is called decency; to this purpose that excellent moralist above-mentioned talks of decency; but this quality is more easily comprehended by an ordinary capacity, than expressed with all his eloquence. This decency of behaviour is generally transgressed

horsemen I saw passing the road. The greater part of them escaped my particular observation, by reason that my whole attention was fixed on very fair youth who rode in the midst of them, and seemed to have been dressed by some description in a romance. His features, complexion, and habit, had a remarkable effeminacy, and a certain languishing vanity appeared in his air. His hair, well curled and powdered, hung to a considerable length on his shoulders, and was wantonly tied, as if by the hands of his mistress, in a scarlet riband, which played like a streamer behind him; he had a oat and waistcoat of blue camlet trimmed and embroidered with silver; a cravat of the finest lace; and wore, in a smart cock, a little beaver hat edged with silver, and made more sprightly by a feather. His horse, too, which was a pacer, was adorned after the same airy manner, and seemed to share in the vanity of the rider. As I was pitying the luxury of this young person, who appeared to me to have been educated only as an object of sight, I perceived on my nearer approach, and as I turned my eyes downward, a part of the equipage I had not seen before, which was a petticoat of the same with the coat and waistcoat. After this discovery, I looked again on the face of the fair Amazon who had thus deceived me, and thought those features which had before offended me by their softness, were now strengthened into as improper a boldness; and though her eyes, nose, and mouth seemed to be formed with perfect symmetry, I am not certain whether she, who in appearance was a very handsome youth, may not be in reality a very indifferent woman.

"There is an objection which naturally presents itself against those occasional perplexities and mixtures of dress, which is, that they seem to break in upon that propriety and distinction of appearance in which the beauty of different characters is preserved; and if they should be more frequent than they are at present, would look like turning our public assemblies into a general masquerade. The model of this Amazonian hunting-habit for ladies was, as I take it, first imported from France, and well enough expresses the gaiety of a people who are taught to do any thing, so it be with an assurance; but I cannot help thinking it sits awkwardly yet on our English modesty. The petticoat is a kind of encumbrance

A man who has been brought up among books, and is able to talk of nothing else, is a very indif ferent companion, and what we call a pedant. But, methinks, we should enlarge the title, and give it to every one that does not know how to think out of his profession and particular way of life.

upon it; and if the Amazons should think_fit to go off at first as well as he could; but finding himself on in this plunder of our sex's ornaments, they ought pushed on all sides, and especially by the Templar, he to add to their spoils, and complete their triumph told us with a little passion, that he never liked peöver us, by wearing the breeches. dantry in spelling, and that he spelt like a gentle"If it be natural to contract insensibly the man-man, and not like a scholar: upon this Will had ners of those we imitate, the ladies who are pleased recourse to his old topic of shewing the narrow-spiwith assuming our dresses will do us more honour ritedness, the pride, and ignorance of pedants; than we deserve, but they will do it at their own ex-which he carried so far, that upon my retiring to my pense. Why should the lovely Camilla deceive us lodgings, I could not forbear throwing together such in more shapes than her own, and affect to be repre- reflections as occurred to me upon that subject. sented in her picture with a gun and a spaniel; while her elder brother, the heir of a worthy family, is drawn in silks like his sister? The dress and air of a man are not well to be divided; and those who would not be content with the latter, ought never to think of assuming the former. There is so large a portion of natural agreeableness among the fair sex of our island, that they seem betrayed into these romantic habits without having the same occasion for them with their inventors: all that needs to be desired of them is, that they would be themselves that is, what nature designed them. And to see their mistake when they depart from this, let them look at a man who affects the softness and effeminacy of a woman, to learn how their sex must appear to us when approaching to the resemblance of a man. "I am, Sir, your most humble servant."

T.

No. 105.] SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1711.

Id arbitror

Adprime in vita esse utile, NE QUID NIMIS.
TER. Andr, act. 1, Sc. 1.

I take it to be a principal rule of life, not to be too much addicted to any one thing.

What is a greater pedant than a mere man of the town? Bar him the play-houses, a catalogue of the reigning beauties, and an account of a few fashionable distempers that have befallen him, and you strike him dumb. How many a pretty gentleman's knowledge lies all within the verge of the court! He will tell you the names of the principal favorites, repeat the shrewd sayings of a man of quality, whisper an intrigue that is not yet blown upon by common fame; or, if the sphere of his observations is a little larger than ordinary, will perhaps enter into all the incidents, turns, and revolutions, in a game of ombre. When he has gone thus far, he has shewn you the whole circle of his accomplishments; his parts are drained, and he is disabled from any farther conversation. What are these but rank pedants? and yet these are the men who value themselves most on their exemption from the pedantry of colleges.

Too much of any thing, is good for nothing.-ENG. PROV. I might here mention the military pedant, who alMy friend Will Honeycomb values himself very ways talks in a camp-and is storming towns, making much upon what he calls the knowledge of mankind, lodgments, and fighting battles, from one end of the which has cost him many disasters in his youth; for year to the other. Every thing he speaks smells of Will reckons every misfortune that he has met with gunpowder; if you take away his artillery from him, among the women, and every rencounter among the he has not a word to say for himself. I might likemen, as parts of his education; and fancies he should wise mention the law pedant, that is perpetually never have been the man he is, had he not broke putting cases, repeating the transactions of Westwindows, knocked down constables, disturbed honest minster-hall, wrangling with you upon the most inpeople with his midnight serenades, and beat up a different circumstances of life, and not to be conlewd woman's quarters, when he was a young fellow. vinced of the distance of a place, or of the most The engaging in adventures of this nature Will calls trivial point in conversation, but by dint of arguthe studying of mankind; and terms this knowledge ment. The state pedant is wrapped up in news, and of the town the knowledge of the world. Will inge-lost in politics. If you mention either of the kings nuously confesses that for half his life his head of Spain or Poland, he talks very notably; but if ached every morning with reading of men over-you go out of the Gazette,* you drop him. In short, night; and at present comforts himself under certain a mere courtier, a mere soldier, a mere scholar, a pains which he endures from time to time, that with- mere any thing, is an insipid pedantic character, out them he could not have been acquainted with and equally ridiculous. the gallantries of the age. This Will looks upon as the learning of a gentleman, and regards all other kinds of science as the accomplishments of one whom he calls a scholar, a bookish man, or a philosopher. For these reasons Will shines in mixed company, where he has the discretion not to go out of his depth, and has often a certain way of making his real ignorance appear a seeming one. Our club however has frequently caught him tripping, at which times they never spare him. For as Will often insults us with his knowledge of the town, we sometimes take our revenge upon him by our know-out taste or distinction. ledge of books.

Of all the species of pedants which I have mentioned, the book pedant is much the most supportable; he has at least an exercised understanding, a head which is full, though confused-so that a man who converses with him may often receive from him hints of things that are worth knowing, and what he may possibly turn to his own advantage, though they are of little use to the owner. The worst kind of pedants among learned men, are such as are naturally endued with a very small share of common sense, and have read a great number of books with

The truth of it is, learning, like travelling, and He was last week producing two or three letters all other methods of improvement, as it finishes which he writ in his youth to a coquette lady. The raillery of them was natural, and well enough for a mere man of the town: but, very unluckily, several of the words were wrong spelt. Will laughed this

of current money, which was the stated price at which it was A newspaper, so called from gazette, the name of a piece originally sold.

good sense, so it makes a silly man ten thousand contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any infirmity of times more insufferable, by supplying variety of mat- old age, it is easy for a stander-by to observe a se. ter to his impertinence, and giving him an oppor-cret concern in the looks of all his servants. tunity of abounding in absurdities.

Shallow pedants cry up one another much more than men of solid and useful learning. To read the titles they give an editor, or collator of a manuscript, you would take him for the glory of the commonwealth of letters, and the wonder of his age! when perhaps upon examination you find that he has only rectified a Greek particle, or laid out a whole sentence in proper commas.

They are obliged indeed to be thus lavish of their praises, that they may keep one another in countenance; and it is no wonder if a great deal of knowledge which is not capable of making a man wise, has a natural tendency to make him vain and arrogant.

No. 106.] MONDAY, JULY 2, 1711.
-Hinc tibi copia

L.

Manabit ad plenum, benigno Ruris honorum opulenta cornu-HOR. 1 Od. xvii. 14. Here plenty's liberal horn shall pour Of fruits for thee a copious show'r, Rich honours of the quiet plain. HAVING often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverley, to pass away a month with him in the country, I last week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his country-house, where I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humour, lets me rise and go to bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my chamber as I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of the country coine to see him, he only shews me at a distance. As I have been walking in his fields I have observed them stealing a sight of me over a hedge, and have heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at.

My worthy friend has put me under the particular care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard their master talk of me as his particular friend.

My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in the woods or the fields, is a very venerable man who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years. This gentleman is a person of good sense and some learning, of a very regular life and oblig ing conversation: he heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows that he is very much in the old knight's esteem, so that he lives in the family rather as a rela. tion than a dependant.

I have observed in several of my papers, that my friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of a humorist; and that his virtues, as well as imperfections, are as it were tinged by a certain extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and distinguishes them from those of other men. This cast of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue would appear in their common and ordinary colours. As I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned? and without staying for my answer, told me that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table; for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at the university to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon." My friend," says Sir Roger, "found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, be- shew it. I have given him the patronage of the cause it consists of sober and staid persons; for as parish; and because I know his value, have settled the knight is the best master in the world, he seldom upon him a good annuity for life. If he outlives changes his servants; and as he is beloved by all me, he shall find that he was higher in my esteem about him, his servants never care for leaving him; than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with by this means his domestics are all in years, and me thirty years; and though he does not know I grown old with their master. You would take his have taken notice of it, has never in all that time valet-de-chambre for his brother, his butler is gray- asked any thing of me for himself, though he is every headed, his groom is one of the gravest men that I day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of other of my tenants his parishioners. There has a privy-counsellor. You see the goodness of the not been a lawsuit in the parish since he has lived master even in his old house-dog, and in a gray pad among them; if any dispute arises, they apply themthat is kept in the stable with great care and ten-selves to him for the decision; if they do not acderness, out of regard to his past services, though he has been useless for several years.

I could not but observe with a great deal of pleasure, the joy that appeared in the countenances of these ancient domesties upon my friend's arrival at his country seat. Some of them could not refrain from tears at the sight of their old master; every one of them pressed forward to do something for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At the same time the good old knight, with a mixture of the father and the master of the family, tempered the inquiries after his own affairs with several kind questions relating to themselves. This humanity and good-nature engages every body to him, so that when he is pleasant upon any of them, all his family are in good humour, and none so much as the person whom he diverts himself with: on the

quiesce in his judgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a present of all the good sermons which have been printed in English, and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly he has digested them into such a series, that they follow one another naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity."

As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking of came up to us; and upon the knight's asking him who preached to-morrow (for it was Saturday night,) told us, the bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then shewed us his list of preachers

Dr. William Fleetwood.

« ZurückWeiter »