In no part of these pages will be found a more eccentric, and, at the
same time, accomplished scholar and amiable man, than the individual,
memorandums concerning whom, at this place present themselves.
His father was a sound theologian, and popular preacher. His various
works on subjects of divinity still continue of high reputation. He was
the intimate friend of Bishop Hoadley, Archbishop Herring, Dr. Clarke,
and other illustrious members of our Church.
He left three sons, all of whom were greatly distinguished as scholars
and divines. The youngest of these, Philip, with whom we have to do, was
for a number of years intimately known to the Sexagenarian, and may,
without impropriety, perhaps, be denominated his first literary patron.
Though considerably advanced in life, he took great pleasure in
conversing with our friend, then very young, upon scholastic subjects,
and afforded him much aid and encouragement in the prosecution of his
literary pursuits. He had a valuable collection of classics, with which
he was intimately conversant, many of the best of which he gave to
his _protegé_. With respect to literature, his mind was somewhat of a
singular cast. He knew nothing of modern languages, and in fact despised
them. He had the same feelings as to the Belles Lettres. Latin and Greek
authors comprised all that he studied; the Septuagint and Greek Testament
all that he venerated.
A few of our old divines, and more particularly Bishop Hoadley, Dr.
Clarke, and his father, were high in his estimation; but, generally
speaking, he had rather the disposition to despise all modern writers.
His habits of life partook of the singularities of his opinions. Every
day, when the weather permitted, he took a very long walk of many miles
with his wife, whose personal appearance, character, and manners, were
little, if at all less eccentric than those of her husband.
But the information or amusement communicated on either side could not be
very great, for the gentleman invariably walked at least a hundred yards
in advance.
He lived plainly, but exceedingly well, allowing himself a bottle of
wine every day, about his management of which, he was also remarkably
whimsical. He had no wine-cellar, but every day, within half an hour of
dinner, his servant went to the tavern for a bottle of port. This he
divided into two equal parts, one of which he drank at dinner, which at
that time was at three o’clock, the other at supper, which was precisely
at nine. His wife, he said, or any accidental guest, might have what they
pleased, but “not a drop of his” for any body.
He had the further peculiarity of drinking his wine out of a jelly glass,
with a large wide foot, and this he did from the apprehension that some
of the numerous four-footed animals which filled his house might throw it
down.
The fondness, which he and his wife encouraged for the feline species,
was really ridiculous. When the door was opened, it, in some degree,
resembled the opening of a dog-kennel, nor were the olfactory nerves less
annoyed. Black, white, tabbies, tortoise-shell, grimalkins of all kinds
and colours, rushed from every opening, to the great annoyance of the
visitor.
Unluckily, there was a large school of boys in the vicinity of the
old gentleman’s residence. There was, of course, an open declaration
of hostilities between the “young dogs” and these cats. He was often
exasperated almost to frenzy, by what he termed their abominable
barbarity, and used to indulge himself in severe reproaches against the
master, for not inculcating more forcible lessons of gentleness and
humanity. His acquaintances were very few, and his guests fewer. With
the exception of one old gentleman, a clergyman, of a character not less
whimsical than his own, and occasionally, but very rarely indeed, the son
of this friend, his dinners were invariably tête-a-tête.
He possessed in manuscript, sermons of his father, and of both his
brothers; he had also composed a considerable number himself. The
characteristic of them all was sound good sense, very seldom deviating
into the subtleties of speculation, but strongly and earnestly enforcing
religious and virtuous practice. It occurred to him, that the publication
of these discourses might produce a sum of importance to the assistance
of a County Hospital, then recently established. They were accordingly
printed, and so far succeeded, that the charity was benefited to the
amount of three or four hundred pounds. But the work appeared with
this peculiarity, that the reader was left to exercise his sagacity in
discovering what discourses were the composition of the father, and what
of the brothers.
In taking leave of this worthy character, it is observed in our
“Recollections,” that he was a man of strong mind, and sound judgment,
acute, and intelligent. Taste he had none, and indeed despised what is
commonly so called.
What is more to his honour is, that he was friendly, affectionate, prompt
in works of benevolence, and anxious to communicate assistance upon
whatever occasion it was required.
The old clergyman, his friend, above alluded to, as being of a like
eccentric character, was one of those personages who are not often met
with in society. He was an excellent scholar, and had much taste and
judgment, but he passed the whole of a long life in studied obscurity.
He had some paternal fortune, and he married a woman of considerable
property.
But from the habit of living in a retired village after the death of
his wife, with an old crone of a servant, he contracted habits of the
extremest parsimony, of which his son experienced the good effects, for
he died prodigiously rich. But mark, it was not till after his death. He
did indeed send his son to college, but his allowance was so niggardly
bestowed, that he was often put to his shifts. After taking his degree,
he was obliged to submit to the drudgery of being usher in a large
school. He afterwards married respectably, but nothing could he obtain
from his father.
There was one trait in the old gentleman’s character so highly to his
honour, that it may well be set as a counterpoise against his infirmity
of avarice. He had the most rigid sentiments of honour. He was connected
with a noble family, who offered him the living of the place where they
resided, but on this condition, that he should sign bonds of resignation
in case of being called upon to vacate his preferment: but he refused
the offer with disdain; and though he might eventually, perhaps, with
a little worldly management, have succeeded on his own terms, he never
condescended to take any step whatever in the business, but continued to
the end of life, curate of the village of which he might have been the
rector.
Fortunam insanam esse et cæcam et brutam, perhibent philosophi,
Saxique instar globosi, prædicant volubilem,
Quia quo saxum impulerit fors, eo cadere fortunam autumant;
Cæcam ob eam rem esse iterant, quia nihil cernit quo sese applicet
Insanam autem aiunt, quia atrox, incerta instabilisque sit
Brutam, quia dignum atque indignum nequeat internoscere.