Part 5

“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 master in the world, he seldom changes his servants; and, as he is beloved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him; by this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their master. You would take his valet-de-chambre for his brother; his butler is gray-headed, his groom is one of the gravest men I have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of a privy-counsellor. You see the goodness of the master even in the old house dog, and in a gray pad that is kept in the stable with great care and tenderness 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 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 old knight, with a mixture of the father and master of the family, tempered the inquiries after his own affairs with several kind questions relating to themselves. This humanity and good nature engages everybody 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 bystander to observe a secret concern in the looks of all his servants.

“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 in the fields, is a very venerable man who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived in 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 dependent.

“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 his 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 colours. As I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good man whom I have just 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 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 the back-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 anything of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or the 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 the 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 tomorrow, (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 a list of preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Sanderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with several living authors who 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. The 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 endeavor 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.”

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The peculiar relations between landowner and tenant as pictured by Addison, seem to be confirmed quite independently by that crusted old Tory, Sir Jonah Barrington. He writes:

“At the great house all disputes among the tenants were then settled, quarrels reconciled, old debts arbitrated; a kind Irish landlord reigned despotic in the ardent affections of the tenantry, their pride and pleasure being to obey and support him.

“But there existed a happy reciprocity of interest. The landlord of that period protected the tenant by his influence; any wanton injury to a tenant being considered as an insult to a landlord; and if either of the landlord’s sons were grown up, no time was lost by him in demanding satisfaction from any gentleman, for maltreating even his father’s blacksmith.

“No gentleman of this degree ever distrained a tenant for rent: indeed the parties appeared to be quite united and knit together. The greatest abhorrence, however, prevailed as to tithe protectors, coupled with no great predilection for the clergy who employed them. These latter certainly were, in principle and practice, the real country tyrants of that day, and first caused the assembling of the White Boys.

“I have heard it often said that at the time I speak of, every estated gentleman in the Queen’s county was _honored_ by the gout. I have since considered that its extraordinary prevalence was not difficult to be accounted for, by the disproportionate quantity of acid contained in their seductive beverage, called rum-shrub, which was then universally drunk in quantities incredible, generally from supper time till morning, by all country gentlemen, as they said, to keep down their claret.

“My grandfather could not refrain, and therefore he suffered well; he piqued himself on procuring, through the interests of Batty Lodge (a follower of the family who had married a Dublin grocer’s widow), the very first importation of oranges and lemons to the Irish capital every season. Horse loads of these packed boxes, were immediately sent to the great house of Cullenaghmore; and no sooner did they arrive, than the good news of _fresh fruit_ was communicated to the colonel’s neighboring friends, accompanied by the usual invitation.

“Night after night the revel afforded uninterrupted pleasure to the joyous gentry: the festivity being subsequently renewed at some other mansion, till the gout thought proper to put the whole party _hors de combat_; having the satisfaction of making cripples for a few months of each as he did not kill.

“While the convivials bellowed with only toe or finger agonies, it was a mere bagatelle; but when Mr. Gout marched up the country, and invaded the head or the stomach, it was then called _no joke_; and Drogheda usquebaugh, the hottest distilled drinkable liquor ever invented, was applied to for aid, and generally drove the tormentor in a few minutes to his former quarters. It was, indeed, counted specific; and I allude to it more particularly, as my poor grandfather was finished thereby.

“It was his custom to sit under a very large branching bay-tree in his armchair, placed in a fine, sunny aspect at the entrance to the garden. I particularly remember his cloak, for I kept it twelve years after his death; it was called a _cartouche_ cloak, from a famous French gang who, it was said, invented it for his gang for the purpose of evasion. It was made of very fine broadcloth, of a bright blue color on one side, and a bright scarlet on the other; so that on being turned, it might deceive even a vigilant pursuer.

“There my grandfather used to sit of a hot sunny day, receive any rents he could collect, and settle any accounts which his indifference on that head permitted him to think of.

“At one time he suspected a young rogue of having slipped some money off his table when paying rent; and therefore, when afterwards the tenants began to count out their money, he used to throw the focus of his large reading glass upon their hands: the smart, without any visible cause, astonished the ignorant creatures! they shook their hands, and thought it must be the devil who was scorching them. The priest was let into the secret: he seriously told them all it _was_ the devil, who had mistaken them for the fellow that had stolen the money from the colonel; but that if he (the priest) was _properly considered_, he would say as many masses as would bother fifty devils, were it necessary. The priest got his fee; and another farthing never was taken from my grandfather.”

* * * * *

Addison is too true an artist to give the impression that his character, his Sir Roger, is a type of the squire in general. Lightly, at the close of the essay on Sir Roger at church, he sketches another sort of man, the country squire full of pride and prejudice, who like Fielding’s _Squire Western_ in _Tom Jones_, is a good fellow in the main, but hard, violent, dogmatic. Such a man is like a bull, headstrong, sometimes offensive, quick to anger, always ready to give battle. He is like a badly broken horse and ready to rear and kick at the least sign of opposition to his own will. He will storm and rage, then, of a sudden there is a change and he is swiftly at the other extreme. Consider that glorious creation of Fielding’s, _Squire Western_, a contemporary of Sir Roger.

He is told that _Tom Jones_ has dared to fall in love with his daughter. Then the storm breaks:

It’s well for ’un I could not get at ’un; I’d a licked ’un; I’d a spoiled his caterwaulin; I’d ha’ taught the son of a whore to meddle with meat for his master. He shan’t ever have a morsel o’ meat o’ mine, or a farden to buy it. If she will have ’un, one smock shall be her portion. I’d sooner give my estate to the sinking fund that it may be sent to Hanover to corrupt our nation with.

Then, soon, there is the change. He is reconciled to _Tom_. He becomes as full of love as he was formerly of hate. The marriage shall not be delayed a day:

To her, boy, to her, go to her. Hath she appointed the day, boy? What, shall it be tomorrow or the next day? I shan’t be put off a minute longer than the next day, I am resolved.... I tell thee it’s all flim flam. Zoodikers! she’d have the wedding tonight with all her heart. Woulds’t not Sophy?... Where the devil is Allworthy?... Harkee, Allworthy, I bet thee five pounds to a crown, we have a boy tomorrow nine months. But prithee, tell me what wut ha? Wut ha Burgandy, Champagne, or what? For please Jupiter, we’ll make a night on’t.

Nor again must it be supposed that the picture which Addison gives of the well kept church is actually representative of the condition of all church buildings in that day. Sir Roger, interested in his surroundings, was at no time unwilling to spend time and money on improvements. Others did not. There was another side to the picture. Cowper, writing an article for the _Connoiseur_, (No. 26, August 19, 1756) says:

“The ruinous condition of some of these edifices gave me great offence; and I could not help wishing that the honest vicar, instead of indulging his genius for improvements, by inclosing his gooseberry bushes within a Chinese rail, and converting half an acre of his globe land into a bowling green, would have applied part of his income to the more laudable purpose of sheltering his parishioners from the weather, during their attendance on the divine service. It is no uncommon thing to see the parsonage house well thatched, and in exceeding good repair, while the church, perhaps, has scarce any other roof than the ivy that grows upon it. The noise of owls, bats and magpies, makes the principal part of the church music in many of these ancient edifices; and the walls, like a large map, seem to be portioned out into capes, seas and promontories, by the various colors by which the damps have stained them. Sometimes, the foundation being too weak to support the steeple any longer, it has been expedient to pull down that part of the building, and to hang the bells under a wooden shed on the ground beside it. This is the case in a parish in Norfolk, through which I lately passed, and where the clerk and the sexton, like the two figures in St. Dunstan’s, serve the bells in capacity of clappers, by striking them alternately with a hammer.

“In other churches I have observed that nothing unseemly or ruinous is to be found, except in the clergyman, and the appendages of his person. The squire of the parish or his ancestors, perhaps, to testify their devotion, and leave a lasting memorial of their magnificence, have adorned the altar piece with the richest crimson velvet, embroidered with vine leaves and ears of wheat; and have dressed up the pulpit with the same splendor and expense; while the gentleman who fills it, is exalted in the midst of all this finery, with a surplice as dirty as a farmer’s frock, and a periwig that seems to have transferred its faculty of curling to the band which appears in full buckle beneath it.

“But if I was concerned to see several distressed pastors, as well as many of our country churches in a tottering condition, I was more offended with the indecency of worship in others. I could wish that the clergy would inform their congregations, that there is no occasion to scream themselves hoarse in making the responses; that the town crier is not the only person qualified to pray with due devotion; and that he who bawls the loudest may, nevertheless, be the wickedest fellow in the parish. The old women, too, in the aisle might be told that their time would be better employed in attending to the sermon than in fumbling over their tattered testaments till they have found the text; by which time the discourse is drawing to its conclusion....

“The good old practice of psalm singing is, indeed, wonderfully improved in many country churches since the days of Sternhold and Hopkins; and there is scarce a parish clerk who has so little taste as not to pick his staves out of the New Version. This has occasioned great complaints in some places, where the clerk has been forced to bawl by himself, because the rest of the congregation cannot find the psalm at the end of the prayer book; while others are highly disgusted with the innovation, and stick as obstinately to the Old Version as to the Old Style. The tunes themselves have also been set to jiggish measures; and the sober drawl, which used to accompany the two first staves of the 100th psalm with the _Gloria patri_, is now split into as many quavers as an Italian air. For this purpose there is in every county an itinerant band of vocal musicians, who make it their business to go round to all the churches in their turns, and, after a prelude with the pitch pipe, astonish the audience with hymns set to the new Winchester measure and anthems of their own composing. As these new fashioned psalmodists are necessarily made up of young men and maids, we may naturally suppose that there is a perfect concord and symphony between them; and, indeed, I have known it happen that these sweet singers have more than once been brought into disgrace by too close unison between the thorough bass and the treble.

“... The Squire, like the King, may be styled Head of the Church in his own parish. If the benifice be in his own gift, the vicar is his creature, and of consequence entirely at his devotion; or, if the care of the church be left to a curate, the Sunday fees of roast beef and plum pudding, and a liberty to shoot in the manor, will bring him as much under the Squire’s command as his dogs and horses. For this reason the bell is often kept tolling, and the people waiting in the church yard an hour longer than the usual time; nor must the service begin till the Squire has strutted up the aisle, and seated himself in the great pew in the chancel. The length of the sermon is also measured by the will of the Squire, as formerly by the hour glass; and I know one parish where the preacher has always the complaisance to conclude his discourse, however abruptly, the minute that the Squire gives the signal, by rising up after his nap....

“... The ladies, immediately on their entrance, breathe a pious ejaculation through their fan sticks, and the beaux very gravely address themselves to the haberdasher’s bills glued upon the lining of their hats....”

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One incident of Addison’s boyhood is particularly interesting as exemplifying the conflict of opinion on matters religious. All pleasure had been barred under the Puritan rule, and the nation oppressed as never before under a religious despotism. Then, under Charles II, the pendulum swung too far in the other direction and sensual pleasure was exalted into a worship, and impiety into a creed. The aftermath of all that had its effect.

So we have a key to what follows, taken from an essay by Addison in _Spectator_ No. 125:

The worthy knight, being but a stripling, had occasion to inquire which was the way to St. Anne’s Lane, upon which, the person he spoke to instead of answering his question called him a young Popish cur, and asked him who made Anne a saint. The boy, in some confusion, inquired of the next he met which was the way to Anne’s Lane, but was called a prick ear’d cur, for his pains, and, instead of being shown the way, was told that she had been a saint before he was born and would be one after he was hanged. “Upon this,” said Sir Roger, “I did not see fit to repeat the former question, but going into every lane of the neighborhood, asked what they called the name of that lane.”

Again in a _Spectator_ of an earlier date, we find a semi-humorous letter setting forth the troubles of a man, a member of the Established Church, whose wife has become a dissenter. Thus:

I am one of the most unhappy men that are plagued with a gospel gossip so common among dissenters (especially friends). Lectures in the morning, church-meetings at noon, and preparation sermons at night, take up so much of her time, it is very rare she knows what we have for dinner, unless when the preacher is to be at it. With him, come a tribe, all brothers and sisters it seems; while others, really such, are deemed no relations. If at any time I have her company alone, she is a mere sermon pop-gun, repeating and discharging texts, proofs, and applications so perpetually, that however weary I may to bed, the noise in my head will not let me sleep till toward morning. The misery of my case, and great numbers of such sufferers, plead your pity and speedy relief; otherwise, I must expect in a little time, to be lectured, preached, and prayed into want, unless the happiness of being sooner talked to death prevent it. I am, etc.,

R. G.

* * * * *

SIR ROGER AT CHURCH.

NO. 112, SPECTATOR, JULY 9, 1711--ADDISON.

I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing and civilizing of mankind. It is certain the country people would soon degenerate into a kind of savage and barbarians, were there not such frequent returns of a stated time in which the whole village meet together with their best faces and in their cleanliest habits, to converse with one another upon different subjects, hear their duties explained to them, and join together in adoration of the Supreme Being. Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes in their minds the notion of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the church-yard, as a citizen does upon the Change, the whole parish politics being generally discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings.

My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside of his church with several texts of his own choosing; he has likewise given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed-in the communion table at his own expense. He has often told me that, at his coming to his estate, he found his parishioners very irregular; and that, in order to make them kneel and join in the responses, he gave every one of them a hassock and a common prayer book; and, at the same time, employed an itinerant singing-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the psalms; upon which they very much value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I have ever heard.

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and, if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself or sends his servants to them. Several other of the old knight’s peculiarities break out upon these occasions; sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing-psalms, half a minute after the rest of the congregation have done with it; sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces _Amen_ three or four times in the same prayer; and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to count the congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing.