_Criminibus debent hortos._
JUV. _Sat._ i. ver. 75.
A beauteous garden, but by vice maintain'd.
As I was sitting in my chamber and thinking on a subject for my next
_Spectator_, I heard two or three irregular bounces[182] at my landlady's
door, and upon the opening of it, a loud cheerful voice inquiring whether
the Philosopher was at home. The child who went to the door answered very
innocently, that he did not lodge there. I immediately recollected[183]
that it was my good friend Sir Roger's voice; and that I had promised to
go with him on the water to Spring Garden[184], in case it proved a good
evening. The Knight put me in mind of my promise from the bottom of the
staircase, but told me that if I was speculating[185] he would stay below
till I had done. Upon my coming down I found all the children of the
family got about my old friend, and my landlady herself, who is a notable
prating gossip, engaged in a conference with him; being mightily pleased
with his stroking her little boy upon the head, and bidding him be a good
child, and mind his book.
We were no sooner come to the Temple stairs, but we were surrounded with
a crowd of watermen offering us their respective services. Sir Roger,
after having looked about him very attentively, spied one with a wooden
leg, and immediately gave him orders to get his boat ready. As we were
walking towards it, "You must know," says Sir Roger, "I never make use of
any body to row me, that has not either lost a leg or an arm. I would
rather bate him a few strokes of his oar[186] than not employ an honest
man that has been wounded in the Queen's service. If I was a lord or a
bishop, and kept a barge, I would not put a fellow in my livery that had
not a wooden leg."
[Illustration: I found all the Children of the Family got about my old
Friend]
My old friend, after having seated himself, and trimmed[187] the boat
with his coachman, who, being a very sober man, always serves for
ballast on these occasions, we made the best of our way for Fox-Hall. Sir
Roger obliged the waterman to give us the history of his right leg, and
hearing that he had left it at La Hogue, with many particulars which
passed in that glorious action, the Knight in the triumph of his heart
made several reflections on the greatness of the British nation; as, that
one Englishman could beat three Frenchmen; that we could never be in
danger of popery so long as we took care of our fleet; that the Thames
was the noblest river in Europe, that London Bridge was a greater piece
of work than any of the seven wonders of the world; with many other
honest prejudices which naturally cleave to the heart of a true
Englishman.
After some short pause, the old Knight turning about his head twice or
thrice, to take a survey of this great metropolis, bid me observe how
thick the city was set with churches, and that there was scarce a single
steeple on this side Temple Bar. "A most heathenish sight!" says Sir
Roger: "there is no religion at this end of the town. The fifty new
churches[188] will very much mend the prospect; but church work is slow,
church work is slow!"
I do not remember I have anywhere mentioned in Sir Roger's character, his
custom of saluting everybody that passes by him with a good-morrow or a
good-night. This the old man does out of the overflowings of his
humanity, though at the same time it renders him so popular among all his
country neighbours, that it is thought to have gone a good way in making
him once or twice knight of the shire[189]. He cannot forbear this
exercise of benevolence even in town, when he meets with any one in his
morning or evening walk. It broke from him to several boats that passed
by us upon the water; but to the Knight's great surprise, as he gave the
good-night to two or three young fellows a little before our landing, one
of them, instead of returning the civility, asked us, what queer old
put[190] we had in the boat? with a great deal of the like Thames
ribaldry. Sir Roger seemed a little shocked at first, but at length
assuming a face of magistracy, told us, "That if he were a Middlesex
justice, he would make such vagrants know that her Majesty's subjects
were no more to be abused by water than by land."
We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which is exquisitely pleasant at
this time of the year. When I considered the fragrancy of the walks and
bowers, with the choirs of birds that sung upon the trees, and the loose
tribe of people that walked under their shades, I could not but look upon
the place as a kind of Mahometan paradise. Sir Roger told me it put him
in mind of a little coppice by his house in the country, which his
chaplain used to call an aviary of nightingales. "You must understand,"
says the Knight, "there is nothing in the world that pleases a man in
love so much as your nightingale. Ah, Mr. Spectator! the many moonlight
nights that I have walked by myself, and thought on the widow by the
music of the nightingale!" He here fetched a deep sigh, and was falling
into a fit of musing, when a mask, who came behind him, gave him a
gentle tap upon the shoulder, and asked him if he would drink a bottle of
mead with her? But the Knight, being startled at so unexpected a
familiarity, and displeased to be interrupted in his thoughts of the
widow, told her, "she was a wanton baggage," and bid her go about her
business.
We concluded our walk with a glass of Burton ale, and a slice of
hung[191] beef. When we had done eating ourselves, the Knight called a
waiter to him, and bid him carry the remainder to the waterman that had
but one leg. I perceived the fellow stared upon him at the oddness of the
message, and was going to be saucy; upon which I ratified the Knight's
commands with a peremptory look.