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objects by a little party of horsemen I saw passing the road. The greater part of them escaped my particular observation, by reason that my whole attention was fixed on a 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 coat and waistcoat of blue camblet, 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 observed 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.

breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst | were suddenly called from these inanimate us for agreeable which was the least transgression against the 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 this 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 among all orders of men; nay, the very women, though themselves created as it were for an ornament, are often very There is an objection which naturally much mistaken in this ornamental part of presents itself against these occasional perlife. It would methinks be a short rule for plexities and mixtures of dress, which is behaviour, if every young lady, in her dress, that they seem to break in upon that prowords, and actions, were only to recom- priety and distinction of appearance in mend herself as a sister, daughter, or wife, which the beauty of different characters is and make herself the more esteemed in preserved; and if they should be more freone of those characters. The care of them- quent than they are at present, would look selves, with regard to the families in which like turning our public assemblies into a women are born, is the best motive for general masquerade. The model of this their being courted to come into the alli-Amazonian hunting-habit for ladies, was, ance 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.

as I take it, first imported from France, and well enough expresses the gayety 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 incumbrance upon it, and if the Amazons should think fit to go on in this plunder of our sex's ornaments, they ought to add to their spoils, and complete their triumph over us, by wearing the breeches,

'MR. SPECTATOR,-Going lately to take the air in one of the most beautiful evenings this season has produced; as I was admiring *On this passage Mr. Drake observes, At a period the serenity of the sky, the lively colours when the riding-habit has become as familiar as any of the fields, and the variety of the land-bly smile at the reproof and apprehensions of the Specother mode of female dress, my fair readers will probascape every where around me, my eyes tator; time has ascertained its utility as a travelling

'If it be natural to contract insensibly the | and regards all other kinds of science as the manners of those we imitate, the ladies who accomplishments of one whom he calls a are pleased with assuming our dresses will scholar, a bookish-man, or a philosopher. do us more honour than we deserve, but For these reasons Will shines in mixed they will do it at their own expence. Why company, where he has the discretion not should the lovely Camilla deceive us in to go out of his depth, and has often a cermore shapes than her own, and affect to be tain way of making his real ignorance aprepresented in her picture with a gun and a pear a seeming one. Our club however has spaniel; while her elder brother, the heir frequently caught him tripping, at which of a worthy family, is drawn in silks like times they never spare him. For as Will his sister? The dress and air of a man are often insults us with his knowledge of the not well to be divided; and those who would town, we sometimes take our revenge upon not be content with the latter ought never him by our knowledge of books. 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 upon 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 T.

servant.'

No. 105.] Saturday, June 30, 1711.

-Id arbitror

Adprime in vita esse utile, ne quid nimis.

Ter. Andr. Act 1. Sc. 1.

He was last week producing two or three letters 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 off at first as well as he could; but finding himself pushed on all sides, and especially by the Templar, he told us with a little passion, that he never liked pedantry in spelling, and that he spelt like a gentleman, and not like a scholar: upon this Will had recourse to his old topic of showing the narrow-spiritedness, the pride and ignorance of pedants; which he carried so far, that upon my retiring to my lodgings, I could not forbear throwing together such reflections as occurred to me upon that subject.

A man who has been brought up among books, and is able to talk of nothing else, is

I take it to be a principal rule of life, not to be too a very indifferent companion, and what we much addicted to any one thing.

Too much of any thing is good for nothing.

Eng. Prov.

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.

My friend Will Honeycomb values himself very much upon what he calls the What is a greater pedant than a mere knowledge of mankind, which has cost him man of the town? Bar him the play-houses, many disasters in his youth: for Will rec- a catalogue of the reigning beauties, and an kons every misfortune that he has met with account of a few fashionable distempers among the women, and every rencounter that have befallen him, and you strike him among the men, as parts of his education; dumb. How many a pretty gentleman's and fancies he should never have been the knowledge lies all within the verge of the man he is, had he not broke windows, court! He will tell you the names of the knocked down constables, disturbed honest principal favourites, repeat the shrewd saypeople with his midnight serenades, and ings of a man of quality, whisper an intrigue beat up a lewd woman's quarters, when he that is not yet blown upon by common fame: was a young fellow. The engaging in ad- or, if the sphere of his observations is a ventures of this nature Will calls the study-little larger than ordinary, will perhaps ing of mankind; and terms this knowledge of the town, the knowledge of the world. Will ingenuously confesses that for half his life his head ached every morning with reading of men overnight; and at present comforts himself under certain pains which he endures from time to time, that without them he could not have been acquainted with the gallantries of the age. This Will looks upon as the learning of a gentleman,

enter into all the incidents, turns and revolutions in a game of ombre. When he has gone thus far he has shown 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.

I might here mention the military pedant who always talks in a camp, and is stormdress, and, I believe, neither the chastity nor the mo- battles from one end of the year to the ing towns, making lodgments, and fighting desty of the sex has suffered by the experiment. Could our amiable moralist revisit the light of day, he would other. Every thing he speaks smells of have infinitely more reason to be shocked at the present gunpowder; if you take away his artillery Gallic fashion of going nearly naked, than at the warm from him, he has not a word to say for ecvering of broadcloth usurped by the beauties of his Drake's Essays, vol. iii. p. 42. himself. I might likewise mention the law

day.'

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 come to see him, he only shows 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.

pedant, that is perpetually putting cases, who is very well acquainted with my hurepeating the transactions of Westminster-mour, lets me rise and go to bed when I hall, wrangling with you upon the most indifferent circumstances of life, and not to be convinced of the distance of a place, or of the most trivial point in conversation, but by dint of argument. The state pedant is wrapt up in news, and lost in politics. If you mention either of the kings of Spain or Poland, he talks very notably; but if you go out of the Gazette, you drop him. In short, a mere courtier, a mere soldier, a mere scholar, a mere any thing, is an insipid pedantic character, and equally ridi

culous.

I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, because it consists of sober and staid persons; for as the knight is the best masOf all the species of pedants, which I ter in the world, he seldom changes his serhave mentioned, the book-pedant is much vants; and as he is beloved by all about the most supportable; he has at least an him, his servants never care for leaving exercised understanding, and a head which him: by this means his domestics are all in is full though confused, so that a man who years, and grown old with their master. converses with him may often receive from You would take his valet de chambre for him hints of things that are worth knowing, his brother, his butler is gray-headed, his and what he may possibly turn to his own groom is one of the gravest men that I have advantage, though they are of little use to ever seen, and his coachman has the looks the owner. The worst kind of pedants of a privy counsellor. You see the goodamong learned men, are such as are natu-ness of the master even in the old houserally endued with a very small share of dog, and in a gray pad that is kept in the common sense, and have read a great num-stable with great care and tenderness out of ber of books without taste or distinction. regard to his past services, though he has The truth of it is, learning, like travel-been useless for several years. ling, and all other methods of improvement, as it finishes good sense, so it makes a silly man ten thousand times more insufferable, by supplying variety of matter to his impertinence, and giving him an opportunity 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 collector 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. Lib. 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,

I could not but observe with a great deal of pleasure the joy that appeared in the countenances of these ancient domestics 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 contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of all his servants.

My worthy friend has put me under the partícular 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 of 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 obliging 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 relation than a | Calamy, with several living authors who dependent.

have published discourses of practical divinity. I no sooner saw this venerable man in the pulpit, but I very much approved of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications of a good aspect and a clear voice; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness of his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time more to my satisfaction. A sermon repeated after this manner, is like the composition of a poet in the mouth of a graceful actor.

I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy would follow this example; and instead of wasting their spirits in laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce what has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more edifying to the people.

L.

Æsopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici,
Servumque collocarunt æterna in basi,
Patere honoris scirent ut cunctis viam.
Phædr. Ep. I. 2.

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 back- No. 107.] Tuesday, July 3, 1711. gammon. 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 show it. I have given him the parsonage of the parish; and because I know his value, have settled upon him a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he was higher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty years; and though he does not know I have taken notice of it, has never in all that time asked any thing of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or other of my tenants his parishioners. There has not been a law-suit in the parish since he has lived among them; if any dispute arises they apply themselves to him for the decision; if they do not acquiesce 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 showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure, archbishop Tillotson, bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr.

• Dr. Fleetwood.

The Athenians erected a large statue to Æsop, and placed him, though a slave, on a lasting pedestal; to show, that the way to honour lies open indifferently

to all.

THE reception, manner of attendance, undisturbed freedom and quiet, which Í meet with here in the country, has confirmed me in the opinion I always had, that the general corruption of manners in servants is owing to the conduct of masters. The aspect of every one in the family carries so much satisfaction, that it appears he knows the happy lot which has befallen him in being a member of it. There is one particular which I have seldom seen but at Sir Roger's; it is usual in all other places, that servants fly from the parts of the house through which their master is passing; on the contrary, here they industriously place themselves in his way; and it is on both sides, as it were, understood as a visit, when the servants appear without calling. This proceeds from the humane and equal temper of the man of the house, who also perfectly well knows how to enjoy a great estate with such economy as ever to be much beforehand. This makes his own mind untroubled, and consequently unapt to vent peevish expressions, or give passionate or inconsistent orders to those about him. Thus respect and love go together; and a certain cheerfulness in performance of their duty is the particular distinction of the lower part of this family. When a servant is called before his master, he does not come with an expectation to hear himself rated for some trivial fault, threatened to be stripped, or used with any other unbecoming language, which mean masters

as humble, and as ready as he was. There is something wonderful in the narrowness of those minds, which can be pleased, and be barren of bounty to those who please them.

often give to worthy servants; but it is often | ment will make his successor be as diligent, to know, what road he took, that he came so readily back according to order; whether he passed by such a ground; if the old man who rents it is in good health; or whether he gave Sir Roger's love to him, or the like.

A man who preserves a respect founded on his benevolence to his dependents, lives rather like a prince than a master in his family; his orders are received as favours rather than duties; and the distinction of approaching him is part of the reward for executing what is commanded by him.

One might, on this occasion, recount the sense that great persons in all ages have had of the merit of their dependents, and the heroic services which men have done their masters in the extremity of their fortunes, and shown to their undone patrons, that fortune was all the difference between them; but as I design this my speculation only as a gentle admonition to thankless There is another circumstance in which masters, I shall not go out of the occurmy friend excels in his management, which rences of common life, but assert it as a is, the manner of rewarding his servants, general observation, that I never saw, but He has ever been of opinion, that giving in Sir Roger's family, and one or two more, his cast clothes to be worn by valets has a good servants treated as they ought to be. very ill effect upon little minds, and creates Sir Roger's kindness extends to their chila silly sense of equality between the par-dren's children, and this very morning he ties, in persons affected only with outward sent his coachman's grandson to prentice. things. I have heard him often pleasant on I shall conclude this paper with an account this occasion, and describe a young gentle- of a picture in his gallery, where there are man abusing his man in that coat, which a many which will deserve my future obmonth or two before was the most pleasing servation. distinction he was conscious of in himself. At the very upper end of this handsome He would turn his discourse still more plea-structure I saw the portraiture of two young santly upon the bounties of the ladies of this men standing in a river, the one naked, the kind; and I have heard him say he knew a other in livery. The person supported fine woman, who distributed rewards and seemed half dead, but still so much alive as punishments in giving becoming or unbe- to show in his face exquisite joy and love coming dresses to her maids. towards the other. I thought the fainting figure resembled my friend Sir Roger: and looking at the butler who stood by me, for an account of it, he informed me that the person in the livery was a servant of Sir Roger's, who stood on the shore while his master was swimming, and observing him taken with some sudden illness, and sink under water, jumped in and saved him. He told me Sir Roger took off the dress he was in as soon as he came home, and by a great bounty at that time, followed by his favour ever since, had made him master of that pretty seat which we saw at a distance as we came to this house. I remembered indeed Sir Roger said, there lived a very worthy gentleman, to whom he was highly A man of honour and generosity considers obliged, without mentioning any thing furit would be miserable to himself to have no ther. Upon my looking a little dissatisfied will but that of another, though it were of at some part of the picture, my attendant the best person breathing, and for that rea- informed me that it was against Sir Roger's son goes on as fast as he is able to put his will, and at the earnest request of the genservants into independent livelihoods. The tleman himself, that he was drawn in the greatest part of Sir Roger's estate is ten-habit in which he had saved his master. anted by persons who have served himself or his ancestors. It was to me extremely pleasant to observe the visitants from several parts to welcome his arrival into the Country: and all the difference that I could take notice of between the late servants who came to see him, and those who staid in the family, was that these latter were looked upon as finer gentlemen and better

But my good friend is above these little instances of good-will, in bestowing only trifles on his servants; a good servant to him is sure of having it in his choice very soon of being no servant at all. As I before observed, he is so good a husband, and knows so thoroughly that the skill of the purse is the cardinal virtue of this life; I say, he knows so well that frugality is the support of generosity, that he can often spare a large fine when a tenement falls, and give that settlement to a good servant who has a mind to go into the world, or make a stranger pay the fine to that servant, for his more comfortable maintenance, if he stays in his service.

courtiers.

This manumission and placing them in a way of livelihood, I look upon as only what is due to a good servant; which encourage

R.

No. 108.] Wednesday, July 4, 1711.

Gratis anhelans, multa agendo nihil agens.
Phædr. Fab. v. 1. 2.
Out of breath to no purpose and very busy about nothing.

with Sir Roger before his house, a country-
As I was yesterday morning walking
told him, Mr. William Wimble* had caught
fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he

* Mr. Thomas Morecraft, a Yorkshire gentleman.

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