i^\. ' .-0^^ "^^-- "■-^' N*\,.» V t -.^;, \' ^ .^^^^. -\^ C^^ '' ^-^A «=^^ " 8 \ > ■% / .^^ % .-3 o>^-'>,V'-^\^^\'>".;V""^\.r, V> ^ ^ * « ^ 0, ->. 0^ '"' "^- 0^ -/'. : * .0 s o ' \<;* v^~^ ■% r,\-^"^^o ^ '^, ~ -^ , •^oo^ -O^c " - ^^ ^ ' ' -.> it ^ .A "^A S^^ ■K ■^-./^ - '^c .^'^^ ^> .V ;^' x^'^^- > Si- ^ " " A ^ V A^^ •'*,,/■ Qder the editorial supervision of LINDSAY TODD DAMON. A.B. Associate Professor of English in Brown University. iDDISON— The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers— Abbott URKE— Speech on Conciliation with America— Denney ARLYLE— Essay on Burns— Aiton OOPER— Last of the Mohicans— Lewis OLERIDGE -The Ancient Mariner, \ OWELL-Visionof SirLaunfal, T 1 voI.-Moodt E QUINCEY-The Flight of a Tartar Tribe-FKENCH RYDEN— Palamon and Arcite-CooK . EORQE ELIOT— Silas Marner— Hancock OLDSMITH— The Vicar of Wakefield-MoRTON lAWTHORNE— The House of the Seven Gables— Herrick (AWTHORNE -Twice=Told Tales— Herrick and Bruere RVINQ— Life of Goldsmith— Krapp ^VING— Tales of a Traveller and parts of The Sketch Book — Krapp ....... 30c 25c 25c 40c 25c 25c 25c 30c 30c 35c 40c 40c 40c OWELL— Vision of Sir Launfal— See Coleridge lACAULAY— Essays on Addison and Johnson— Newcomer 30c lACAULAY— Essays on Milton and Addison— Newcomer . 30c IILTON— L'Allegro, 11 Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas— Neilson ........ 25c IILTON— Paradise Lost, Books I and II— Farley . . 25c OE— Poems and Tales, selected— Newcomer . . . 30c OPE-Homer's Iliad, Books I, VL XXII, XXIV-Cressy and Moody ........ 2Sc COTT— Lay of the Last Minstrel— Moody and Willard . 25c COTT— Lady of the Lake— Moody .... 30c COTT— Marmion— Moody and Willard . . . 30c COTT— Ivanhoe— SiMONDS ..... 45c lAKSPERE-The Neilson Edition— Edited with Introduc- tions, Notes, and Word Indexes by W. A. Neilson, Ph.D. As You Like It ..... , 25c Hamlet ....... 25c fJulius Caesar ...... 25c *Macbeth ....... 25c Twelfth Night . . . . . 25c HAKSPERE— Merchant of Venice— LovETT . . . 25c TEVENSON- Treasure Island— Broadus . . . 25c HACKERAY— Henry Esmond— Phelps . . . 50c ENNYSON— Gareth and Lynette, Lancelot and Elaine, The Passing of Arthur, and other Poems— Reynolds . 35c ENNYSON— The Princeis—COPELAND .... 25c or Study and Practice f College Entrance Requirem jnts in or Reading f English, 1905. Others in Preparation. SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY tblishers, 378-388 Wabash Avenue CHICAGO ^be Xahe jEngliab CIa60iC0 EDITED BY LINDSAY TODD DAMON, A.B. Associate. Professor of Ei^.glish in Brown University Zbc Xake lEnalieb Claeeice THE [R ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS THE SPECTATOR EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE HERBERT VAUGHAN ABBOTT INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY CHICAGO SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 1905 Copyright 1898 By SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY KOBT. O. LAW CO., PRINTERS AMD BI.VDBBS, CHICAGO PREFACE There is perhaps no humor in literature more likely appeal to a girl of sensitive tastes than the delicate rokes of Addison; there is certainly no period in nglish life so likely to appeal to a boy of masculine Istes as the brilliant and intensely human age of Queen nne. The humor of Addison must be left to disclose [self; it is never improved by the officiousness of an Hitor. Much can be done, however, to illustrate and ;.ake graphic the age for which and in which Steele and ddison wrote. This is the especial purpose of this )lume. In the Introduction, I have not restricted myself to such a brief account of Queen Anne's time as jboy or a girl might read off-hand at a sitting. On the btrary, I have attempted to gather historical material bm which the teacher may draw as occasion calls the class-room. The teacher is urged, however, 't to stop here; the pupils need to be set tasks of (earch for themselves. With this in view, he should, I possible, secure for them access to a complete copy of 6 PREFACb: the Spectator^ or, if that be out of the question, to thii Spectator in London (published by Seeley & Co. o; London). For the best work, he needs on the schoo shelves or in the town library, Sydney's two vohimes oi England and the English in the Eightee7ith Century, Macaiilay's famous third chapter in his History at England will also be useful. For biographical material Thackeray's English Humorists^ Courthorpe's Addisoii in the "English Men of Letters" Series and Dobson^J Steele in the '* English AVorthies" Series, will furnish all that is needed. I For text I have followed mainly that of Mr. A^ Gregory Smith in his new edition of the Spectator, s far as it has been published, modernizing, however, tH capitalization and the spelling of the original. Into th last paragraph of No. 383, I have introduced a clevci emendation, borrowed from Mr. D. 0. S. Lowell, ani have occasionally for similar reasons omitted bri( phrases in other portions of the essays. With thes exceptions, this volume will be found, I hope, a faithfi transcript of the original. Indeed, the last chapt( aims to be an exact copy of the text, that the pupil ma see for himself what a page looked like two centuri( ago. A glossary at the back of the volume furnishes exph nations of allusions not sufficiently prepared for by th PREFACE 7 introduction, and calls attention to idioms peculiar to he authors or their age. It also contains an index of he material given in the Introduction. In the text, rords which the pupil would not naturally look up are ndicated by a star. Herbert Vaughai^ Abbott. Cambridge, August, 1898. t^^a^ /W.^^ sLidyi^^'^'^iP' CONTENTS PAGE EFACE 5 FRODUCTION 1. The Spectator 13 2. The Streets 13 3. Night in London 15 ; 4. The Beau 16 /■f. The Woman of Fashion 16 6* A Fashionable Library . . . . . .17 li^l. A Fashionable Garden 19 ' 8. Fashionable Amusements. The Theatre . . 19 i^." The. Pit 31 ! 10,. Differences of Opinion 23 |/d^'TheCoffee-House 33 ^^ Special Coffee-Houses 34 ^3. The City 26 14. The Landed Interest 37 15. -Travel into the Country 37 ij5. The Country Gentleman 38 i/f7. Hunting Fashions 39 Wy^he Country Squire 30 ^■^^ The Church 31 '^0. The Whigs and the Tories 33 ,2V The War 34 h2. Pamphleteers 35 •2J, Journalists 36 ki. The Spectator Again 37 ^5. Joseph Addison 38 10 CONTENTS 26. Addison at the Coffee-House 27. Prudent Mr. Addison . 28. His Kindly Spirit . 29. Dick Steele . 30. Tlie Details of his Life . 31. His Frankness of Temper 32. His Simplicity of Feeling 33. Dobson on Steele . 34. Budgell . . • • '35. A Picture of the Age . ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS CHAPTER I. The Spectator . . . , n. The Club III. Sir Roger on Fashion and Virtue IV. The Club Again V. A Lady's Library VI. CovERLEY Hall VIL The Coverley Household . VIII. Will Wimble .... IX. The Family Portraits . X. The Coverley Ghost XI. Sunday with Sir Roger XII. Sir Roger in Love XIII. The Coverley Economy XIV. Sir Roger and the Hunt XV. The Hunting Field XVI. Moll White .... XVII. The Wooing XVIII. The Polite World . XIX. The Coverley Poultry XX. Sir Roger at the Assizes Addison Steele Steele Addison Addison Addison Steele Addison Steele Addison Addison Steele 11 Steele Addison Budgell Addison Steele Addison t Addison 1 Addison 1 CONTENTS 11 lAPTER XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. j:xvii. XVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. CXXII. XXIII. XXIV. Florio and Leonilla . Party Feeling . Whigs and Tories Sir Roger and the Gypsies A Summons to London . The Coach to London Sir Andrew on Trade . Sir Roger in London A Selection from a Spectator In Westminster Abbey . Sir Roger at the Play Will Honeycomb Sir Roger at Spring Garden The Death of Sir Roger hronology LossARY OF Words and Phrases I PAGE Addison 161 Addison 169 Addison 175 Addison 180 Addison 185 Steele 189 Steele 194 Addison 200 Addison 206 Addison 208 Addison 213 Budgell 218 Addison 223 Addison 228 233 . 235 INTRODUCTION The Spec. Eacli chapter in the adventures of Sir Roger tator. ^Q Coverley which appears in this volume riginally appeared as an issue o f a London daily jou ijial the eighteenth _c£ BtmT, c^edJhQ..^p£cUitor. It was iiblished i n a single sheet of fool scap, printed in double Dlumns, on both sides, and accompanied by a few mouncements of booksellers and theatre managers, ad the advertisements of private subscribers. It re- orted no news ; it aimed never t o dis<^iisa pnlitjcs ; it as in reality q^ d^^'^y ^^^^j r.^ aVpfnlij to be read by ten of fashion^over their chocola^te and women of ishion over their tea. To understand the novel pur- oses of this journal and the extraordinary influence it as exerted one needs to know something of these men ad women, who they were, how they lived, what they lought. 2. The The London in which they lived — for streets. i}^qj ^q^q most of them Londoners — ae might walk the length of in but little over an our, and across in less than half that time. To do , however, he would often have to dodge into the street nong gilded hackney coaches and fashionable sedan lairs, or else elbow his way brusquely and at risk of 14 INTRODUCTION an affray, among porters bent under their loads of merchandise, shopmen stationed at their doors, appren- tices, hawkers, sneak thieves, sauntering fops and big town bullies. The streets were narrow. There were no street numbers, and shopkeepers distinguished their shops by elaborate signs — blue boars, black swans, red} lions and hogs in ai'mor — which swung on creaking:' hinges over the j^assers-by. The sidewalks were narrow and divided from the streets by open gutters — ^kennels they called them then — and by an awkward arrange- - ment of posts and chains. To walk near these kennels-' in rainy weather was to be di^enched from the gutter J spouts which, while they hung out a good distance] toward the gutters, never sent their stream quite clear ij of the sidewalk. Rain or shine, men could always pick a quarrel on the privilege of keeping to the wall. One| of the most vivid pictures we have of London streets isl due to these quarrels regarding the wall. It is from aJj satirist of the time and runs as follows *, You'll sometimes meet a fop, of nicest tread, d Whose mantling peruke veils his empty head, At ev'ry step he dreads the wall to lose, I And risks, to save a coach, his red-heel' d shoes, " Him like the miller pass with caution by | Lest from his shoulders clouds of powder fly, But when the bully with assuming pace Cocks his broad hat, edg'd round with tarnish'd lace. Yield not the way ; defy his strutting pride. And thrust him to the muddy kennel's side. He never turns again, nor dares oppose But mutters coward curses as he goes. INTRODUCTION 15 •. Night At niglit, the tin vessels tliat served for London. lamps diffiisecl so little light, that every n with an honest errand engaged a torch-bearer to at him on his way. As for protection, every man 1 to trust to his own rapier. "Apparelled in thick, ivy gi'eat-coats, the watchmen i>erambnlated the ets, crying the hour after the chimes, taking precau- ns for the prevention of fire, proclaiming tidings of il or fair weather and awakening at daybreak all those o intended setting out on a journey."^ Neither tchman nor constable, however, had enough wit to ve an honest man in time of danger. The gi'eatest at night came not from ordinary criminals, )ugh these were common enough, but from bands ai'istocratic young rowdies, who seized peaceable n and women on the streets, tattooed or slashed their es, rolled reputable women round in barrels, or, itating the fox hunt, chased some citizen about town finally they had him at their mercy. Then they pt him dancing with pricks of their swords. Of )se ruffians, the most notorious were the MohiKiks. was probably of these that Dr. Johnson was thinking iCn he wrote the lines : Some fiery fop with new commission vain, Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man- Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil and stabs you for a jest. Sydney: England and the English in the Eighteenth 'itury. 16 INTRODUCTION The town was full of young men who h( nothing to occupy them but brawls, drinl JDg hmij ^j^_nnr(1-p]n.yiny^ anrl finp. grpgs^ and of these D small proportion spent all their serious attention o dress. The fashionable fop or beau enveloped his hea in a well -powdered wig, which needed constant attentioi and his neck and wi'ists in lace ruffles. His coat I threw open to display his costly shirt. He encased li legs in tight-fitting knickerbockers, and his feet ; high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. For the str& he added to this costume a cocked hat, a diamond-hilt( sword, a cane, which hung by a loop from his coat, ai not infrequently, if the weather were cold, a muff. 5. The "^^^ woman of fashion was a spirit^ Woman of coquettc. "There is scar CO any cmotiou Fashion. the mind," says one of the writers in tl Spectator^ "which does not produce a suitable agitati(i in the fan; in so much, that, if I only see the fan oi\ disciplined lady, I know very well whether she laugh frowns or blushes. I have seen a fan so very angr; that it would have been dangerous for the absent lo^ who provoked it to have come within the wind of and at other times so very languishing, that I have be' glad for the lady's sake the lover was at a sufficie- distance from it." Her coquetry, however, though charmed the men of her own circle, would be altogetl too pretentious to please taste to-day. She was affected creature. On pleasant days she would throT^; scarlet cloak over her shoulders, and with her lap-dog; her monkey under her arm, mince down the street INTRODUCTION 17 e the fashions . She had Jnst given up her towering 3ad-dress*/ her petticoats, says the Spectator^ "were own into an enormous concave," and her feet were 'opped up on high-lieele d sho es. One device she had •r giving^ dignity to her appearance ; she powdered her lir and face, and set off her ^c omplexion by little pie ces I black silk or velvet, called "^patchjgs." Skilful hands ade these devices charming, but the hands of the dinary woman scattered the powder clumsily and ultiplied the patches till they became absurd. On )pressing days, the great lady stayed at home and ^irsed her one cherished ailment, for every fashionable bman chose to consider herself "^jbjp^^- ^^ ^^^ ^1iiP°, as she called them, the "vapors." On these occa- )ns she was moody, irritable, and when crossed, might, she were only fashionable enough, become hysterical. A Fashion- SJT Eogcr dc Coverley 's ^ acquaintance le Library, amou^ the ladics wa s largely confined to ose who .aspired to lea rning. It is worth one's while , go over in detail tke library which one of these ladies^ Within my own memory I have known it rise and fall bve thirty degrees. About ten years ago, it shot up to Very great height, insomuch that the female part of our ^cies were much taller than the men. ... At present 3 whole sex is in a manner dwarfed and shrunk into a race beauties that seems almost another species. I remember reral ladies, who were once very near seven foot high, it at present want some inches of five ; how they came to thus curtailed I cannot learn. — The Spectator, June 22^ U. Leonora. See pages 73-78 in this voluma 18 INTRODUCTION i I is described as haying. Her shelves contained four French romances, Cassandra^ Cleopatra^ AstrcBa and Clelia. These stories strung out anywhere from three to ten Yolumes in length, and were full of sentimental shepherds, romantic knights, flowery meads and purling streams. In Sir Philip Sydney's Arcadia^ first publishe(3 by his sister, the Countess of Pembroke, she had anothet story of the same general sort, though it was far more genuine in feeling. Among those volumes of hers whicl] no lady's library must be without were the famous Elzevil editions of Latin, French and German classics, Dry^ den's Juvencd^ Ogilby's Virgil^ which, though \ wretched translation, was beautifully illustrated, and Baker 's Chronicle^ a popular jumble of the old Engiisl histories and a favorite volume of the lady's friend, Sii Roger, Her religious books had all at one time o: another been in the- fashion. There was Dick Steele' - Cliristian Hero; the author was too gallant not to bi popular ; there was Sherlock on Death; he was Dean o the great London Cathedral, St. Paul's; there wa^ Sacheverell's speech; he was the idol of all the ladies oi the Tory pai'ty. Ever since he ha^ undergone trial foj making scurrilous attacks on the Whigs, these ladieti had chosen to consider him a martyr. Sir Williarl Temple, whose works were on her shelves, was apolishef but conventional essayist; Locke and Newton wer profound and abstruse writers on scientific and ph: losophic topics far above her capacity; and th Ladies'* Calling was a sort of sequel to the WtoU But of 3Ian, a treatise in morals Avhich had run throng '1 INTRODUCTION 19 ny editions. Side by side with these pious volumes od "Handsome Fielding's" trial for bigamy, Thomas iUrfey's gross and dissolute songs and plays, and the ko Atla?itis, a collection of coarse and malicious [ndals.^ I Fashion- It was uo uucommou thing in the early p Garden. pg^j.^ Qf Jjift^jRi^rM^pTitb Pfinfnry fpr a, Inted coqu ette or a roguish ol d beau to pr of ess a love I Kature and simj)le out-door life. No sooner, how- ir, did they establish a country seat out of London m they began to make it as artificial as them- res. They laid out the paths in geometrical figures, y dug out artificial grottoes, and lined them with tils and bits of looking-glass that should glitter ier the rays of artificial light ; they even pruned the Bs into cones, pyramids, globes or fantastic shapes of n and animals. Fashiona- Dauciug was the only_active exercise in Lts^ThJ which the woman of fashio n ever thou ght fheatre. of jfldulging . She went through the mys- ies of the masked ball, the complicated steps of the iuet or the country-dance (or, as we should say, lare dance), bet with men at th e gfymiiig-inhlft^ saw ^1, practically the inventorjvf ^Piirip.h fl.Tid Jiir ly, libit his puppet-show in Covent Garden, or vis- l the opera, which was just then doubly popular be- ise o f its novelty in London and its pretentious stage- rs the author dared not speak of the victims of her slander uheir real names, she used feigned ones. To enjoy the full ight of the book, therefore, Leonora got a key. 30 INTRODUCTION settings.* The theatre, however, was still the place whei? the stranger would turn for the fashionable display o Jthe city:^ Here, at six jo^clock^ the w orld gathe red to rr and to be seen, to hear a nd to be heard. The uppe galleryTeld the noisy artizans, mechanics, body-servant and apprentices of the town. *'It is observed," say the Sj^ectator^ in one of its satires, "there has been certain person in the upper gallery of the play-house who, when he is pleased with anything that is acte< upon the stage, expresses his approbation by a loa knock upon the benches or the wainscot, which may t' heard over the whole theatre. This person is commonlii known by the name of the * trunk-maker in the uppe' gallery.' Whether it be that the blow he gives q these occasions resembles that which is often heai'd \ the shops of such artizans, or that he was supposed \ have been a real trunk-maker who, after the finishing < his day's work, used to unbend his mind at these publ; diversions with his hammer in his hand, I cannn certainly tell. There are some I know who have beei foolish enough to imagine it is a spirit which haunts tli upper gallery and from time to time makes these stran^ noises; and the rather because he is observed to 1 louder than ordinary every "time the ghost of Hamll appears. Others have reported that it is a dumb nui who has chosen this way of uttering himself when he transported with anything he sees or hears. Others wi ^ For satire on opera and puppet show, see the SpectaU ( Nos. 5, 13, 14, 18, 22, 29, and 31. INTRODUCTION 21 ke it to be tlie play-house thunderer that exerts him- f after this manner in the upper gallery when he has thing to do upon the roof. But having made it my siness to get the best information I could in a matter ;this moment, I find that the trunk-maker, as he is iimonly called, is a large black^ man, whom nobody ows. ^ He generally leans forward on a huge oaken int^ with great attention to everything that passes on stage. He is never seen to smile; but upon hearing thing that pleases him, he takes up his staff with h hands, and lays it upon the next piece of timber it stands in the way with exceeding vehemence, -er which, he composes himself in his former posture, such time as something new sets him at work." The Pit. The lower gallery held jhe_ plain and _salK-^ stantial c i t ize ns, an d the pit the barristers, students_and yo ung merchaj its-i^l-iiaia^tt-fch^Vy- ._ ^^. Well toward the front were the self-appointed 'ics, l ike the Templ ar,^ who were versed in plays, and 3se judgment oft'^n determined the fate of a new ture. Fashionable lords an^dladies, more conscious of ir brilliant costumes than of the performance, hired irs from the pla^firg^and^at on the.£tage. Not to be done in splendor, the players, whatever the perform- 8, dressedanjhejatest^iad^ Cato would wear a , and an ancient British maiden a modern head-dress. te in the audience, afraid they we re not getting atten- )ark complexioned. Cudgel. >ee pages 56-57 in this volume. 22 INTRODUCTION ^ tion enough by their ogling and finery, picked quarre and drew their swords. Sydney, in his England ai the English in the Eighteenth Century, describes oi such aifray. **One evening, in 1720, while the eel brated actress, Mrs. Oldfield, was captivating anaudiem with her impersonation of the Scornful Lady, Be? Robert Fielding . . . insulted a barrister nam( Fulwood by pushing rudely against him. Fulwo( loudly expostulating, the beau clapped his hand up( his sword. Fulwood drew his, and ran it into the boC of his antagonist, who walked off exhibiting his bleedii wound to the audience in order to excite the pity of tJ fair sex. Greatly to his chagrin, the ladies laugh loudly at his misfortune.'* 10. Differ- "^^^ audieucc did not hesitate to ma; ences of their opinions of the performance know Opinion. ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ important issues were apt I break up into distinct factions. One issue was polit ic The popularity of this playwright, like that of the auti: and the clergyman, depended not n litt^^ ^^ wb*^^^^^ ii was a Whig or Tory. The other issue was one o f art ajl morais7"~'' CTmm^ s written in the fashion which m prevailed before the days of the Spectator were sc{J)i dalously immo ral. A new school of playwrigb among them the authors of that journal, was J| coming into vogue. It was their purpose to cj^ar ' s^^ge_j)i4 mmoralit ^. Not all men of leisure were bea Many of them gave their time freely to the serious bi| ness of the state, to the encouragement of art, phi'jgr ophy, science and letters, or with more modest a INTRODUCTION 23 iised the tone of the society they were in by conducting lemselves as honest English gentlemen. These men sre ready to welcome clean and honest work. Unfor- Inately, the new school was not satisfied with trying to ^ pure in morals ; it was stiff and pedantic, and wrote, 5)t naturally, but according to arbitrary rules. The \istrest Mother,^ which Sir Eoger de Coverley is made : puff, was a play of the new school. The editors of Je Spectator were determined to make the author ibpular; his enemies coined from his name, Ambrose ^lillips, the epithet namhy-jmmhy. The cof- * ' If you would kuow our manner of living, " e-House. writes a man of the period, " 'tis thus? e rise by nine, and those that frequent great men's ees find entertainment at them till eleven, or, as in Hand, go to tea-tables ; about twelve the beau monde gembles in coffee or chocolate houses. If it be fine, take a turn in the Park till two, when we go to nner." It was to these coffee or chocolate houses at a stranger would turn if he wished to find out aat the men of LqndpiL-JKfira-- interested in and loughtful about. They were the places of rendezvous the wits, the gallants, the politician s, the poets, ^See pages 213-217, in this volume. When the play ^ns, Andromache, the widow of Hector, is a captive of the eeks. To save her son Astyanax from death, she finds she ast consent to marry her -captor Pyrrhus. Immediately ier the ceremony, Pyrrhus is slain at the instigation of ^rmione, to whom he had long been betrothed. The assassin i lover of Hermione, by name Orestes. I 24 INTEODUCTION I i the merchants, the essayists of the age. The highway. man that, well-masked, had rohbed you the night before as you rode into London might brush against you as you laid your penny of admission down at the bar. The great Dr. Swift, the satirist of the town, might be stalk, ing up and down, grim and silent, between the tables.- Many a poor scribbler for the booksellers, who slept all night in a garret, picked out some coffee-house as hip regular place of address, and made all his appointments and received his few letters there. It was the place tc see the latest fashion of the fop, to hear the brilliani co nversat ion of men of letters, and to learn the Igbtgs^ news of the^E nglish armies agaiiist tbej^nch . "I firs of all called in at St. James's," says one of the writern of the Spectator, "where I found the whole outwarc room in a buzz of politics. The speculations were bu very indifferent towards the door, but grew finer as yor advanced to the upper end of the room, and were s very much improved by a knot of theorists, who sat i], the inner room, within the steams of the coffee-pot that I there heard the whole Spanish monarchy dispose of, and all the line of Bourbon provided for in less tha^ a quarter of an hour." t Of the two thousand coffee-houses in Lot; 1?J. Special -, r.. T^ T /^ 1 Coffee- don at this time, the Sn' Roger de Coverlet Houses. paperg^^fer to seven. The oldest coffe(| house in town was'the Grecian, the resort of the Leajm^i Club. At Wil^s, situaled ' oVer a retail shop nej Covent Garden and the theatres, th^jwits andJhe_poe hadjiongre gated for many^ ars. The great poet Drydc, INTRODUCTION 25 ad gathered all his disciples there; but one of the litors of the Spectator, Joseph Addison, had set up a 9W literary circle at Button^ T^nd AYill's was losing ime of its old reputation. It was card-playing^j^ot it, which was now its chief attraction. Chilcrs^ in St. aul's churchyard, was frequented by ecclesiastics and ther professional men, Jonatha^Vl^y stockjobbers, 'qui]2ja^g''Ey lawyers and law students, the coffee -li(Tiise S. the Tilt Yard, by "military and mock-military fellows ho manfully pulled the noses of quiet citizens who wore ot swords/^ the Chocolate House, also known as the ocoa fe^e^ by the Tor ies, and St. JamSsloy the Whigs, here is a tale of this last coffee-house worth quoting 'ecause it concerns the chief editor of the Spectator^ Sir ichard Steele. "Lord Forbes," says the narrator, happened to be in company with . . . two mili- iry gentlemen ... in St. James's Coffee-House, ^hen two or three well-dressed men, all unknown to his !)rdship or to his company, came into the room, and in I public, outrageous manner abused Captain Steele as fie author of the Tatler} One of them, with great udacity and vehemence, swore that he would cut Steele's hroat or teach him better manners. *In this country,' ^id Lord Forbes, *you will find it easier to cut a purse lian to cut a throat.' His brother officers joined with lis lordship, and turned the cut-throats out with every hark of disgrace.'"' 3 1 1 I *A tri- weekly journal which preceded the Spectator. '''For further descriptions of the Coffee-House, see the Spectator, Nos. 46, 49, 148, 197, 403. 36 INTRODUCTION By this time the thoughtful reader will 13. The City. ,. , -. , ii ,-, begin to wonder where all the money came from to support the life of London. It came from great landed estates in the country on the one hand, and fromi a rapidly growing commerce on the other. ''When I have been upon the 'Change,'^ " says the Spectator, in one of its issues, *'I have often fancied one of our old* kings standing in person where he is represented in. effigy and looking down upon the wealthy concourse ofi people -with which that place is every day filled. In this! case how would he be surprised to hear all the languages' of Europe spoken in this little spot of his former dominions, and to see so many private men, who in his? time would have been the vassals of some powerful baron,i negotiating like princes for greater sums of money than were formerly to be met with in the royal treasury."' The community centering about this enormous mine of» wealth was called in distinction from the court and the aristocracy the "city," and its members were knowni as "citizens." In this region were gathered the great merchants of the realm. Every day they in- creased in power; every day they grew prouder o| their increasing wealth. Their wealth, however, could not save them from the witticisms of the clever fellows about town. Too often, indeed, the witticisms were; well deserved. The average merchant was apt to be! pompous and self-important, and the very fact that he could not get admittance to a lord's levees or a lady's ^ Exchange. | INTRODUCTION 27 jouts^ only made him strut a little more vain -gloriously. Chere were few merchants as dignified as Sir Andrew ^reeport,^ and few clever writers willing to treat him nth. as much respect as the editors of the Spectator Ihow to that worthy gentleman. : It was not from the "city," however, that La^ided In- mcu of f ashiou drew their wealth . It came terest. ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ p^rfc from the rents of landed States in the country. This land had descended to Ihem from their fathers, and, however great the debts SN^hich they slipped off their shoulders when they too went to their graves, this land would for the most part rlescend to their eldest sons, who could neither dis- pose of it nor bequeath it elsewhere. Creditors might make up their losses as best they could, and younger sons, It least those who could not live on the generosity of bheir elder brothers, were left to their own resources. jTo these younger sons, only three kinds of employment feeemed honorable,— statecraft, fighting in her Majesty's army or navy, and the Church; or, if the estates of the •father had been comparatively small, they might without iiisgrace try law or medicine. Meanwhile, their elder brothers kept up the honor of the family name. Manv landlords, however, seldom if ever 15. Travel -^ » \. -, mi i.i • into the saw the city of London. To know their Country. manner of life, one must travel into the icountry districts ; and journeying was slow and danger - 1 The term used for fashionable assemblies in the eighteenth century. 2 See page 58, in this volume. 28 INTRODUCTION ous. Every highway of importance was marked by gib- bets, and from many a gibbet hnng the corpse of a high- wayman. The coaches were without springs, and the i roads were almost intolerable. ''On the best lines of communication," says one writer, "ruts were so deep and obstructions so formidable that it was only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the road became available. Sel- dom could two vehicles pass each other unless one of them stopped." The inns along the route were identified to a passer-by by their gi'otesque signs, but to the old stager they must have stood out even more distinctly for the oddities of the host or hostess. Few of these worthies probably had ever stepped out of their own county. Many of them probably had never been a half- day's ride from home. A journey made from county to county was like an ocean voyage thirty years ago. The passengers quickly got acquainted. And wherever they stopped the men always paid for the women's refresh- ments as well as their own. 16 The ^^ ^^ ^^^y ^^^^^ some such journey as this Country that ouc camc into the petty territories of Gentleman. ^^^ g^^^H couutry gentleman, where, the year round, he lived among his tenants. His house" was usually either of plaster striped with timber, or else ■ of red brick with long bow -windows. Unpleasantly close to his house was his stable, and usually the whole space between was little better than a stable-yard. The owner himself was generally a roystering fellow who devoted his attention to hunting, cock-fighting, smok- ing, drinking and lording it over his neighbors « He INTRODUCTION 29 might follow the fox or the hare wherever it went, though he trampled down the standing grain on his tenants' or his neighbors' estates. If his income were of a certain figure, he might confiscate to his own use the guns, nets and traps which he found in the pos- session of the man of more ordinary means. ^ In his pleasures, the law gave him the privileges of a petty despot. 17. Hunting In the half cuntury before the Spectator Fashions. ^^g published, travel to and from London had grown a little more common. In that same period, the country squires had fallen into the habit of meeting joccasionally at some central bowling-green to bowl, dine, jdance, or discuss the news of the county. Still, the jordinary squire seldom if ever saw London ; and he cared less for his neighbors than he did for his hounds, his horses, his pipe and his beer. In fashions, he always lagged behind the age. Like his father, he selected his hounds not so much for their speed as for the musical effect of their voices when they blended in the chase. His hunting too was primitive. Much of the land was still so overrun with bogs and ditches that the master of the pack had to follow the dogs on foot, and by the long pole he balanced in his hand vault the spots which the tnen on horseback had carefully to skirt. ^ This privilege was given him by the game act. A man had bo have forty pounds a year in rents or a handsomer sum in 3ther forms of property before he was allowed to hunt. A' aaan with a hundred pounds a year in rents had the privilege 3f confiscation. 30 INTRODUCTION 18 The ^^^ administration of mucli of the county Country law was left in the hands of the country Squire. gentlemen. The humblest office open to them was that of justice of the peace, which brought with it the honorary title of ' ' Squire. ' ' In this capacity, they gave marriage certificates, bound disorderly persons ovei to keep the peace, and in criminal courts, meeting quarterly and known as quarter -sessions, admin isterec the highway, game and poor laws. Twice a year the judges of the superior courts held court sessions — knownl as assizes — in the various counties of England, and '1 summoned such squires as were ''eminent for knowledge i and prudence'' to sit with them. This body of "eminent" squires was known as the quorum. In addi- tion to receiving such honors, the landed gentleman might be elected "Sheriff of the County," an office which gave him the right to appear on state occasions in i] court dress; or, if he were a knight, he might be J elected to Parliament as "knight (or member) of the; shire. " Many a squire would have found it impossible to administer even the simple office of justice of the I peace had it not been for the clever coaching of his ' clerk. In almost every case his pretensions to learning were very slight. He had had perhaps a year or so at the University, but even there he had devoted him- self more to roystering than to learning, and when he had returned to his estates he was usually quite willing to settle back into his old ignorance. His knowledge of law was drilled into him by his clerk ; as for a knowl- edge of literature, he was content to pick up from somei INTRODUCTION 31 jk popular in the country regions a few proverbial oressions, with which he flavored his conversation on occasions.^ 19. The Besides its rents to the landlords, every Church. farm had to pay one-tenth of its yearly )duce to the support of the Church. This Church was ^reat political institutioUo Membership in it, like the h to support the Constitution, was a sign of patriot- 1, not of religious devotion. Parliament not only tied what the rites of the Church should be, but used political office to any one who had not taken the nmunion according to those rites. The great prizes the Church occasionally went to men of brilliant ents; quite as often, perhaps, to men who had family luence and a little cleverness of their own to back 'But that Sir Roger may appear in this, as in other pects, above the average of his order, there is in Coverley 11 a library rich in 'divinity and MS. household receipts.' Roger, too, had dra.wn many observations together out of reading in Baker's Chronicle and other authors 'who idujB lie in his hall window' ; and, however limited his own ssic lore, it is certain that both in love and friendship he played strong literary sympathies. The perverse widow, ose cruelty darkened his whole existence, was a 'reading y,' a 'desperate scholar,' and in argument 'as learned as ( best philosopher in Europe, ' one who, when in the country, es not run into dairies, but reads upon the nature of plants. ' Besides the Spectator — to whom he eventually [ueathed his books — he indulged a platonic admiration for )nora, a widow, formerly a celebrated woman, and still a y lovely woman, who turned all the passion of her sex into )ve of books and retirement." — W. H. Wills. 32 INTRODUCTION them; they seldom fell to men of religious earnestness Many of the clergy spent their time enjoying the pleas ures of London, and seldom saw the steeples of theij own parish churches. Even of those who lived in thei] parishes, a large number gave most of their time ti farming, hunting, drinking and gambling. "I founds parson di'unk," writes Dean Swift, in one of his letters, "fighting with a seaman, and Patrick and I were st wise as to part them, but the seaman followed him U Chelsea, cursing at him, and the parson slipped into ;; house, and so I know no more. It mortified me to se.i]jpc.^ whirliJinjUnh mt od their wealth anrl their Tf^pntnf.imi frn]y ) p^ , vamniPi p act The hree things dear to a Tory's heart were old_times, old |milies,^and grea^^^states. The AYhig, on the other and, cared J ifctle fo r_old- times ; he^jespected-ja^ealth hereveiMt came from, and wished avei-y^-prosperons lan to haYe_a n honn rahip s har^ in iha gr>ygrnment. 'hree quarters of a century before, a quarrel similar to lat between the Whigs and the Tories had begun etween the Stuart kings of England on the one hand ad the House of Commons on the other. They had )ught against each other through two civil wars, inally the House of Commons had triumphed, and set p a new line of sovereigns of their own choosing, but le Tory always looked back a bit wistfully to the time hen the Stuarts were kings by sheer right of birth, and b suspected every Whig of being a republican in dis- Liise. The Whig, on the other hand, was devotedly yal to the new dynasty, and believed, with a good deal i justice, that the Tories were plotting to bring back le hated Stuart tyrants. The Tory's religious preju- ces were affected by the political questions of the time, id he counted every political opponent an enemy the Church. The Whig was a bigoted Protestant, id suspected his opponents of being Roman Catholics. 3th parties were led by great rival families who handed 34 INTRODUCTIOIV down their iutense jealousies ot one another from genera- tion to generation. The most important ditference between them, however, was one of self-interest. The country gentry and the clergy were Tories because their interests were wrapped up in the preservation of the landed estates; the great merchants were AVhigs because their prosperity was dependent on the growing commerce of England. The intensity of party feeling it would be hard to describe. AVhen the Tories came into power, aj Tory mob burned Whig chapels and religious meeting-;] houses ; later, courtiers and fine ladies aired their personal! and political quarrels before the Queen, and even the editors of the Spectator^ hard as they had labored to introduce good-nature and kindness into political lifei^ could not escape the spirit of the times. Their long ancj; earnest friondship ended in political differences and personal bitterness. ]\ During much of this time, England wal^ 21. The War. ^y^ging a brilliant but protracted w4 against France and Spain. To fill up her navy, ships' crews were kidnapping able-bodied men from the i streets; to fill up her armies, the recruiting sergeant wa' going through the country districts, gathering in th(|f criminals from the jails and coaxing honest men, wheir, drunk, to enlist for a few shillings. These men wert led by active young fellows of good family, who ha( bought their lieutenancies or captaincies for somi hundreds of pounds, and over them all was the gi'ea but dishonest commander, Marlborough. Brilliant as wen some of the English victories, the majority of the peopj^ INTRODUCTION 35 _ne growing tired of the war. Taxes were heavy, and e corruption among the army officers was becoming ore and more scandalous. From the start, it had been '■ Whig war, for it was bound to increase the West dian commerce of England; but the Tories were now ■ power and in their eyes the war appeared to be doing ^-tle good. It was at this juncture that the greatest of 'e English allies, the Austrian general, Prince Eugene, sited England to change, if he could, the current of nglish feeling. At first it seemed as if he might be "Ccessful. Even the Tories received him with homage, rr they could not forget his military skill and courage, fid he never ventured on the streets without being rrounded by eager crowds. With all his courtesy and nil, however, his arguments finally gave offense. Tory ■ciety gave him the cold shoulder, and men who made •eir living by wi'iting Tory pamphlets uttered the senti- ents of the English government by abusing him with ■ul language. 32. Pam- The placc of the modern editorial writer jhieteers. qj^ ^ daily paper was taken in old times ' these bitter, scurrilous pamphleteers. No degree of ^rsonal slander was too coarse for them. Afraid, how- 'er, of the law, or else of a sound cudgeling at the bids of their victim, they tried to cover up their full teaning under an absurd system of stars and dashes, ost of these pamphlets would seem dull to the average kder of to-day. Any one with a quick wit, however, 'n detect what they must have been like from the fol- ding good-humored caricature of them which appears 36 INTRODUCTION in the pages of the Spectator: * ' If there are four Per- sons in the Nation who endeavour to bring all things into Confusion and ruin their native Country, I think every honest Engl-shm-n ought to be on his guard. That there are such, every one will agree with me, avLo hears me name * * * with his first Friend and Favourite * * * ^q[^ ^q mention * * * j^^p * * * These People may cry Ch-rch, Ch-rch, as long, as they please, but to make use of a homely Proverb, the* proof of the P-dd-ng is in the eating. * * * * I love < to speak out and declare my mind clearly when I am: talking for the Good of my Country. I will not makei my Court to an ill Man, tho' he were a B ^y or a;, T 1. Nay, I would not stick to call so wretched a;j Politician, a Traitor, an Enemy to his Country, and a] Bl-nd-rb-ss, etc., etc." 33. Jour- When the Spectator published its fii'st.| naiists. issuc, daily papers were a comparatively newv| thing. The first one ever established in England had, begun only nine years before, and then only in very primi-^ tive fashion. It was fourteen inches long, eight inches jj wide, and was printed only on one side of the sheet, The^^ reading matter of the first issue consisted of six short| paragraphs translated from the foreign papers. Foi|. news people still depended on the coffee-house,^, on pamphlets, on queer little weeklies, and on what wa^,, called the newsletter, a little manuscript journal writter, out by the editor with his own pen on a sheet of fin( paper and then painfully copied on similar sheets by hit, clerks. Half even of this sheet was left blank that thdL INTRODUCTION 37 irchaser might add to it his own private business if ore lie mailed it to liis friends in the country. "It as our custom at Sir Roger's," says the Spectator, in le of its issues, "upon the coming in of the Post to sit )out a pot of coffee, and hear the old Knight read yer's Letter; which he does with his spectacles upon s nose, and in an audible voice — smiling very often at lose little strokes of satire which are so frequent in the ritings of that author." On account of the heavy strictions still hampering the freedom of the press, the 3WS of the weeklies was meagre, misleading, and always :pressed with a great show of mystification. Roughly leaking, until the editors of the Tatler and the vectator set a better fashion, the ordinary journalist in ■nglandwas a contemptible and ill-natured gossip. =. The Spec- It takes the nicest sort of skill to civ- itor Again. ^w^q barbarians who already think them- 'Ives the most civilized of men; and this is really liat the Spectator set out to do. For people whose hole thought had been bent on following the latest fectation in di'ess, oaths, coquetry and dueling, it !t up simple and wholesome ideals of life and made !em popular. It commented on the little things of iily life, jested with suavity at extravagances, reasoned ith fools on their vices and follies, and in general made bity amusing, ostentation ridiculous, and meanness fntemptible. It contained some pleasant raillery for ose who thought it religious to wear long faces, and contained tokens of respect for the clergyman who d his duty in quiet, unostentatious fidelity. It brought 38 INTRODU-CTION different classes of people together, and showed the Whig and the Tory "what a large extent of ground they might occupy in common."^ AVisdom it brought "out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges to dwell in: clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and coffee-houses.""^ 36. Joseph The chief contributor to the Spectator was Addison. Joseph Addison, a scholar, poet, and diplomatist, then just in his 23rime. His early home life might seem too grave and formal to suit the children of to-day, but when Addison was young, all courtesy had something gi'ave and formal in it, and the circle that gathered under the Addison roof was at heart very simple and natural. His father was Dean of Lichfield,!' a gentleman who had traveled in France and Tangiers,'] and had written works highly esteemed in their time? his two brothers were of "excellent talent," and his* .sister Dorothy was "a kind of wit, very like her brother." At fifteen years of age young Addison ^entered the University of Oxford. By the time he was twenty-one, his reputation as a man of taste and scholai'ship had reached the men of letters in Lon- don. Six years later, on the strength of some con- ventional verse he had written, he received a pension oi £300 a year, that he might fit himself for diplomatic- service abroad. He spent a year in France, travelec into Italy, where "at every turn his memory suggestec fresh quotations from the whole range of Latin poetry,' visited Vienna and returned to England in 1703. Oi" ^ Courtliorpe, Addison in the English Men of Letters Series "^Spectator, No. 10. INTRODUCTION 39 is return ho was invited to join the famous Kit-Cat Ilub, composed of the leaders of the great Whig party. ». little later, he wrote to order a poem to commemorate ae victory which the great Whig general, Marlborough, ad won at Blenheim. Of this poem, Tlie Campaign ^ ne brief description of Marlborough is still remem- ered: Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; And pleased th' Ahnighty's orders to perform Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm. fut as a whole the poem, though finished and scholarly, light well be forgotten. It is in fact rather a tedious erformance. Nevertheless for this verse he was made Tnder Secretary of State. In 1709, he was appointed ecretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, where he rst began the sort of essays for which the Spectator as made him famous. In 1711, while the Spectator ras coming out, he purchased an estate in Warwickshire or £10,000; in 1713 he saw his play of Cato acted .efore enthusiastic throngs at the theatre; in 1716 he larried Lady Warwick; in 1717 he was made a Secre- iry of State. He retired in 1718, with a pension of 1,500, and died one year later when still only forty- )ven years of age. !6. Addison Duriug all these ups and downs of polit- :': the Coffee- icLil fortiiue, lie was mingling with men of affairs as well as men of letters, was writing [olitical pamphlets as well as literary essays. With all iis pleasure in learning, he lived as much among people 40 INTRODUCTION as among books, and, though in his light and easy style, he touched often, perhaps too often, on the little oddities in feminine fashions, he lived more among meni than among women. A man's man, he was seldomi! to be seen at fashionable assemblies. He was most! at home in the coffee-house which Button, an old* servant of his or Lady Warwick's, had established iiu Covent Garden. Here, with his tobacco and his wine,=| he sat late into the night, his friends and admirers- gathered around him. He, if any one, was counted the] leader among the great wits and wi'iters of the time Other men were abler than he, but none of them had the modesty and sweetness of temper, the lightness and delicacy of wit, the graceful simplicity of language which made the quiet Addison, when he was stimulated< by his friends or his surroundings, the master of every, conversation in which he took part. Even the envious but wonderfully clever Pope acknowledged' that Addison "had something more charming in hisi conversation than I ever knew in any other man, ' ' and the bitter, cynical Swift declared that often as they spent their evenings together he never wished for a third person. "If he had a mind to be chosen king," said that same biting satirist, with an enthusiastio humor quite unlike his usual self, "he would hardly be refused. ' ' 27. Prudent There is another side to the picture, how* Mr. Addison, evcr. Just, kindly, often forbearing in his friendship, he never quite forgot to be prudent even in behalf of a friend. He was more likely to give a INTRODUCTION 41 pendthrift good counsel than to lend him his purse in learty, open fashion. When it was proposed that he let )ff an old acquaintance from some official fee, he good- lumoredly replied: "I have forty friends whose fees ^nay be worth two guineas apiece ; I lose eighty guineas md my friends gain but two apiece." He was in truth I bit cold-blooded in his friendships. "I ask no favor f Mr. Secretary Addison," wrote Steele, too proud to Solicit from a life-long colleague a kindness which a more enerous man than Addison would have proffered off-hand. 38. His Yet few men in literary life have been ondiy Spirit, morc considcratc ; few men have guarded lore calmly and steadily against giving unnecessary iain. There is in his wittiest satires something of the ame quietness, something of the same placidity, which >ervades his familiar evening hymn : j Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; And all the stars that round her burn. And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll. And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though, in solemn silence, all Move round this dark, terrestrial ball; What though no real voice or sound, Among their radiant orbs be found ; In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing as they shine, The hand that made us is divine. 42 INTRODUCTION 29. Dick When the young Addison went np to the Steele. famous Chai'terhouse school in London to finish his preparation for the university, he met among the pupils there a boy, six weeks his senior, who was destined to become his benefactor, his gallant follower, his colleague, his life-long admirer, and except for a sorry political quarrel at the very close of Addison's life, his life-long friend. At this time young Steele was under the care of an uncle, for his father had died when he was but five years old, and his mother had died soon after. "I remember," he writes, speaking of his father's death, "I went into the room where his body lay and my mother sat weeping alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell a-beating the coffin and calling 'Papa,' for, I know not how, I had some slight idea he was locked up there. My mother catched me in her arms, and transported beyond all patience of the silent grief she was before in, she almost smothered me in her embrace, and told me in a flood of tears, Papa could not hear me, and would play with me no more, for tliey were going to put him undergTound whence he could never come to us again." Steele followed Addison to the university, 30. TheDe- .... .1 n . 1 taiia of but lie was so eager to jom m the war which his Life. -y^^g j;}jgj^ waging against France that he could not stay to graduate. In 1694, he enlisted as a pri- vate gentleman in the second troop of life-guards. A few years later he became a captain. His military ambitions had not kept him from trying his pen in a literary venture or so, and -by 1700 he was well known to some INTRODUCTION 43 ^f the chief wits of the time. In the same year, one or two of his acquaintances having thought fit to misuse him and try their valor upon him, he fought a duel in Hyde Park with a Captain Kelly, whom he wounded iangerously , though not mortally. ' ' This occurrence laid :he foundation of that dislike of dueling which he ever ifter exhibited." Finding his military life exposed to rnuch irregularity, he wrote his treatise on the Christian Hero, to fix upon his own mind a strong impression of kirtue and religion. This treatise he afterwards pub- lished "as a standing admonition against himself. " He lelped purify the stage by writing clean plays, was for I time the editor of the official newspaper of the court, ;he Gazette, and on the 12th of April, 1709, laid the foundation of his permanent fame by starting a tri- jyeekly Journal of essays, called the Tatler, To this ^journal Addison, then in Ireland, was a frequent and welcome contributor. A little later, the paper gave way •.oa new undertaking of theirs, the Spectator. In 1713, Steele was elected a member of Parliament. "Expelled Tom the House of Commons by the insolent and unmanly lanction of a majority," he was again elected to that 3ody in 1715. In 1718, he lost his wife, who was buried n Westminster Abbey. From that time on he engaged in theatrical affairs, wrote his fourth comedy, risked and est his money in wildcat ventures, and finally withdrew io a small estate in Wales, where he died in 1729.^ * For the facts of this paragraph and for very much of the ihrasing, the editor is indebted to Mr. Austin Dobson's life of Steele in the English Worthies Series. 44 INTRODUCTION The most characteristic thing about Frankness of Steele's face was the "Irish vivacity that Temper. lighted lip his eycs." He was one of the most sanguine of mortals, always active and always confi- dent that his latest venture would make him his fortune. It is said that an alchemist once duped him into believing that he could discover the philosopher's stone wliich should turn all things into gold. However this may be, so lively were his hopes of winning prosperity that on the strength of them he always ran beyond his income, and was always beset by creditors who somehow did not share his confidence. The courage with which he faced the future made him all the franker to acknowledge the shortcomings of his past. There was never any cowardly attempt on his part to bolster ujd his reputation. WheB: a correspondent took him to task in the Tatler for let-:' ting a piece of grossness slip into one of his comedies, he' accepted the correction, dwelt good-humor edly but soundly on its truth, and corrected the fault in the next^ edition of the play. His modesty was of a brave, out- spoken sort. He was never tired of acknowledging the debt he oweel to Addison for criticising and correcting his literary work. Any one, he declared of himselfi could tell from the quality of his wi'itings when Mr.' Addison was at home and when abroad. 32. His Sim- Steele, however, was high-spirited enougli pucity of to resent injustice even from Addison, Feeimg. -p^^, ^^^ estrangement which separatee them during the closing days of Addison's life, it is hare to see that Steele was in any sense to blame. Addisor INTRODUCTION 45 iiad attempted to confute him in a political argument, "^ot succeeding, perhaps, as well as he had hoped, and 10 doubt rendered peevish by the fatal illness from yhich he was suffering, he finally descended into irri- ating little personalities. At first Steele met them with ,Teat good humor. At last, stung by the changed atti- ude of his old friend, he replied to them with pathetic »ut dignified reproaches that did credit to his own self- respect, as well as to his loyalty toward old memories. In aany respects, Steele remained all through his life an vergrown boy ; he was apt to act first and think after- ards; he never adapted means to ends; he took his hances that everything would come out right in the nd. But when once his affection was aroused, he met he trials of life not only with sweetness of temper but ith resoluteness of heart and dignity of bearing. Any ne who would see with what affection, gallantry, dig- ity, wit and humor, a very human husband can address very petulant wife should read the letters^ which this ^ The following may serve as illustrations : June 5th, 1708. Dear Prue: — What you would have me do I know not. 11 that my fortune will compasse you shall always enjoy, nd have no body near, you that You do not like except I am lyself disapproved by You for being devotedly, Y'r Obedient Husband, Rich'd Steele. I shan't come home till night. June 7th, 1708. [Dear Prue: — I enclose you a Guiniea for y'r Pocket. I ine with Ld. Hallifax. 46 INTRODUCTION captain in the Coldstream Guards dashed off on the impulse of the moment to his wife. They are full of a kindly, half -humorous appeal to her best self. "I am told," says his old friend Victor in his Original Letters, ''that he retained his cheerful sweetness ofl temper to the last; and would often be carried outl on a summer's evening, when the country lads and lasses were assembled at their several sports, and, with his pencil, give an order on his agent the mercer, for a new gown for the best dancer." 33. Dobson "There have been wiser, stronger, great( on Steele. men, " says Austin Dobson. ''But mam a strong man would have been stronger for a touch ofi Steele's indulgent sympathy; many a gi'eat man has. wanted his genuine largeness of heart, many a wise mam might learn something from his deep and wide humanity." "If Addison," says the same critic,;, "delights us by his finish, he repels us by his restraint and absence of fervor ; if Steele is careless, he is always] frank and genial. Addison's papers are faultless in! their art, and in this way achieve an excellence whichi I wish I knew how to Court you into Good-Humour, foi Two or Three Quarrels more will dispatch Me quite. If yoi' have any Love for Me believe I am always pursuing our Mutual Good. Pray consider that all my little fortune is to b(p settled this month and that I have inadvertently made mysel: Liable to Impatient People whp take all advantages. If yoi have not patience I shall transact my businesse rashly anc Lose a very great sum to Quicken the time of yr being lidd o all people you don't like. Yrs Ever, RiCH'D Steele, INTRODUCTION 47 ] beyond the reach of Steele's quicker and more im- tulsive nature. But for words which the heart finds ^hen the head is seeking; for phrases glowing with he white-heat of a generous emotion; for sentences ^hich throb and tingle with manly pity or cour- geoiis indignation, we must turn to the essays of teele." Of Eustace Budgell, the third author represented in the Sir Roger de Coverley ^apers, little need be said. He was a scapegrace rotege of Addison's, quarreled with his superiors in ffice, gambled his property away in speculation, tried to ecover his fortunes by forging a will, and finally, filling ds pockets with stones, plunged into the Thames. His ontributions to the Spectator were probably under Addison's direction, and subject to his revision. 5. A Picture The skctchcs which compose the Sir Roger of the Age. ^g CoverUy Papers contain but a small taction of the literary work of Addison and Steele. Che reader who, when he has finished these papers, goes io further in his acquaintance with the Spectator loses nany of its most picturesque essays. The Spectator [as been read from generation to generation for its ^btle humor; it has been read for its graceful style; but lost of all, perhaps, it has been read for its graphic ictures of a bygone age. With the exception of Pepys^s liary^ no English book exists to-day which tells with he same faithful detail how ancestors of ours have Doked and acted. One who has familiarized himself rith the Tatler and the Spectator can imagine himself 48 INTRODUCTION at will among our barbarous and yet ceremonious an- cestors of a hundred and ninety years ago.^ ^ After reading this volume, let the reader turn for example to Nos. 13, 15, 16, 64, 69, 101, 150, 251, 324, 328, 452, 454, 474, and 481. The truest pictures of eighteenth century life he will find in numbers into which the idealized old knight, Sin Roger, does not enter. I EOGEE DE COVERLET PAPERS I THE SPECTATOR . [No. 1.— Addison. Thursday, March 1, 1710-11.] Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare Incem ' Cogitat, ut speciosa deliinc miracula promat.^ — Horace. I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure till he knows whether the wi'iter of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that conduce very much to the right under- standing of an author. To gratify this curiosity, which is so natural to a reader, I design this paper and my next as prefatory discourses to my following wTitings, and shall give some account in them of the severaP per- sons that are engaged in this work. As the chief trouble of compiling, digesting and correcting will fall to my share, I must do myself the justice to open the work with my own history. ^ He means to produce not smoke from flame but light from smoke, so that he may bring forth in succession wondrous beauties. ^ Note the force of the here. 49 50 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS I was born to a small hereditary estate, which, accord- ing to the tradition of the village where it lies, was bounded by the same hedges and ditches in William the Conqueror's time that it is at present, and has been delivered down from father to son whole and entire, without the loss or acquisition of a single field or meadow, during the space of six hundred years. There runs a story in the family, that my mother dreamt that she was brought to bed of a judge: Whether this might proceed from a lawsuit which was then depend- la' ing in the family, or my father's being a justice of the peace, I cannot determine; for I am not so vain as to think it presaged any dignity* that I should arrive at in my future life, though that was the interpretation which the neighborhood put upon it. The gravity of my be- m havior at my very first appearance in the world, seemed to favor my mother's dream : For, as she has often told me, I threw away my rattle before I was two months old, and would not make use of my coral until they had taken away the bells from it. As for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing in it remarkable, T shall pass it over in silence. I find that during my nonage, I had the reputation of* a very sullen youth, but was always a favorite with my school- j master, who used to say, "that my parts were solid, and i would wear well." I had not been long at the Uni- versity before I distinguished myself by a most profound silence: For during the space of eight years, excepting in the public exercises of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of an hundi^ed words ; and indeed do not s 21 THE SPECTATOR 51 remember that I ever spoke three sentences together in my whole life. Whilst I was in this learned body, I applied myself with so mnch diligence to my studies, that there are very few celebrated books, either in the learned or the modern tongues, which I am not acquainted with. Upon the death of my father, I was resolved to travel into foreign countries, and therefore left the University, with the character of an odd, unaccountable fellow, that had a great deal of learning, if I would but show it. An insatiable thirst after knowledge carried me into all the countries of Europe, in which there was anything new or strange to be seen : nay, to such a degree was my curiosity raised, that having read the controversies of I some great men concerning the antiquities of Egypt, I made a voyage to Grand Cairo, on purpose to take the measure of a pyramid ; and as soon as I had set myself right in that particular, returned to my native couutry with gi-eat satisfaction. I I have passed my latter years in this city, where I am frequently seen in most public places, though there are not above half a dozen of my select friends that know me; of whom my next paper shall give a more particulai account. There is no place of general resort wherein I do not often make my appearance ; sometimes I am seen thrusting my head into a round of politicians at Will's, and listening with gi'eat attention to the narratives that are made in those little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke a pipe at Child's, and whilst I seem attentive ito nothing but the Postman, overhear the conversation 52 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS of every table in the room. I appear on Sunday nights at St. James's coffee-house, and sometimes join the little committee of politics in the inner -room, as one who comes there to hear and improve. My face is likewise very well known at the Grecian, the Cocoa Tree, and in the theatres, both of Drur^^ Lane and the Hay Market. I have been taken for a merchant upon the Exchange : for above these ten years, and sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly of stock-jobbers at Jonathan's. In short, wherever I see a cluster of people, I always mix with them, though I never open my lips but in my own club. Thus I live in the world rather as a Spectator^ of man- kind, than as one of the species, by which means I have made myself a sjjeculative statesman, soldier, merchant, and artisan, without ever meddling with any practical part in life. I am very well versed in the theory of an husband, or a father, and can discern the errors in the economy, business, and diversion of others, better than those who are engaged in them : as standcrs-by discover blots which are apt to escape those who are in the game. I never espoused any party with violence, and am resolved to observe an exact neutrality between the Whigs and Tories^ unless I shall be forced to declare mj^self by the hostilities of either side. In short, I have ^ The Spectator is an imaginary cliaracter, Macaulay justly says of it, however, "It is not easy to doubt that the ji portrait was meant to be in some features a likeness of the i! painter, — Addison." 2 In the following pages, does he succeed in doing this? THE SPECTATOR 53 acted in all the parts of my life as a looker-on, which is the character I intend to preserve in this paper. I have given the reader just so much of my history and character, as to let him see I am not altogether ,5 unqualified for the business I have undertaken. As for other particulars in my life and adventures, I shall insert them in following papers, as I shall see occasion. In the mean time, when I consider how much I have seen, read, and heard, I begin to blame jio my own taciturnity ; and since I have neither time nor inclination, to communicate the fulness of my heart in speech, I am resolved to do it in writing, and to print myself out,* if possible, before I die. I have been often told by my friends that it is a pity so many useful' f5 discoveries which I have made should be in the pos- session of a silent man. For this reason, therefore, I shall publish a sheetf ul of thoughts every morning foi the benefit of my contemporaries ; and if I can any way contribute to the diversion, or improvement of the :o country in which I live, I shall leave it when I am sum- moned out of it, with the secret satisfaction of thinking that I have not lived in vain. There are three very material points which I have not spoken to* in this paper, and which, for several impor- ^ tant reasons, I must keep to myself, at least for some time: I mean, an account of my name, my age, and my lodgings. I must confess, I would gratify my reader in anything that is reasonable ; but as for these three par- ticulars, though I am sensible they might tend very » much to the embellishment of my paper, I cannot yet i 54 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS come to a resolution of communicating them to the public. They would indeed draw me out of that obscurity which I have enjoyed for many years, and exj^ose me in public places to several salutes and civilities, which have been always very disagreeable to me ; for the greatest pain I can suffer is the being talked to and being stared at. It is for this reason, likewise, that I keep my complexion and dress as very great secrets; though it is not impossible but I may make discoveries of both in the progress of the work I have undertaken. After having been thus particular upon myself, I shall in to-morrow's paper give an account of those gentlemen who are concerned with me in this work. For, as I have before intimated, a plan of it is laid and concerted (as all other matters of importance are) in a club. However, as my friends have engaged me to stand in the front, those who have a mind to correspond with me, may direct their letters to tlie Spectator, at Mr. Buck- ley's in Little Britain. For I must further acquaint 2t: the reader, that though our club meets only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have apj^ointed a committee to sit every night for the inspection of all such papers as may contribute to the advancement of the public weal. C. 11 THE CLUB [N9. "2 — Steele. Friday, March S.] Ast alii sex, Et plures, conclamant ore.^ — Juvenal The fii'st of our society is a gentleman of Worcester- shire, of ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His great grandfather was inventor of that famous country-dance which is called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behavior, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world only as he thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humor* creates him no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his being unconfined to modes and forms, makes him but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he lives 5 in Soho Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed in love by a perverse, beauti- ful widow of the next county to him. Before this dis- appointment, Sir Roger was what you call a fine ^ But six others and more cry out together with one voice. 55 56 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Su' George Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming* to town, and kicked Bully Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him ' 'youngster. ' ' But being ill- used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never di'essed afterwards ; he continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry ii humors, he tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he fii'st wore it. ^== * * * ^ * He is |( now in his fifty -sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country; a gi'eat lover of mankind; but there is lii such a mirthful cast in his behavior that he is rather beloved than esteemed.* His tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, all the young women profess love to him, and the young men are glad of his company: When he comes into a house he calls the servants by % j their names, and talks all the way up stairs to a visit. I must not omit that Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum ; that he fills the chair at a quarter -session with great abilities, and, three months ago, gained universal applause by explaining a passage in the Game Act. The gentleman next in esteem and authority among us is another bachelor, who is a member of the Inner Temple; a man of great probity, wit,* and understand- ing ; but he has chosen his place of residence rather to obey the direction of an old humorsome father, than in a| THE CLUB 57 pursuit of liis own inclinations. He was placed there to study the laws of the land, and is the most learned of any of the house in those of the stage. Aristotle and Longinus are much better understood by him than 5 Littleton or Coke. The father sends up, every post, questions relating to marriage-articles, leases, and tenures, in the neighborhood; all which questions he agrees with an attorney to answer* and take care of in the lump: He is studying the passions themselves, when he 'o should be inquiring into the debates, among men, which arise from them. He knows the argument* of each of the orations of Demosthenes and Tully, but not one case in the reports of our own courts. No one ever took him for a fool, but none, except his intimate friends, |5 know he has a great deal of wit. This turn makes him at once both disinterested and agreeable : As few of his I thoughts are drawn from business, they are most of them I fit for conversation. His taste of books is a little too just for the age he lives in; he has read all, but approves of very few. His familiarity with the cus- toms, manners, actions, and writings of the ancients makes him a very delicate observer of what occurs to him in the present world. He is an excellent critic, and the time of the play is his hour of business; exactly at five he passes through New Inn, crosses through Russell Court, and takes a turn at Will's till the play begins ; he has his shoes rubbed and his peri- wig powdered at the barber's as you go into the Rose. It is for the good of the audience when he is at a play, t) for the actors have an ambition to please him. 68 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS | The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew Eree- port, a merchant of great eminence in the city of Lon- don, a person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and great experience. His notions of trade are noble and generous, and (as every rich man has usually some sly way of jesting which would make no great figure were he not a rich man) he calls the sea the British Common. He is acquainted with commerce in all its parts, and will tell you that it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion by arms ;^ for true power is to i be got by arts and industry. He will often argue that if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we should gain from one nation; and if another, from another. I have heard him prove that diligence makes more last- ing acquisitions than valor, and that sloth has ruined more nations than the sword. He abounds in several frugal maxims, among which the gi'eatest favorite is, "A penny saved is a penny got." A general trader of good sense is pleasanter company than a general scholar ; and Sir Andrew having a natural, unaffected eloquence, the perspicuity of his discourse gives the same pleasure that wit would in another man. He has made his for- tunes himself, and says that England may be richer than other kingdoms by as plain methods as he himself is richer than other men ; though at the same time I can say this of him, that there is not a point in the compass but blows home a ship in which he is an owner. Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room sits Captain ^ How do you explain Sir Andrew Freeport's position on the war? See Introduction, Sections 20 and 21. THE CLUB 59 Sentry, a gentleman of gi'eat courage, good understand- ing, but invincible modesty. He is one of those that deserve very well, but are very awkward at putting their talents within the observation of such as should take notice of them. He was some years a captain, and behaved himself with great gallantry in several engage- ments and at several sieges ; but having a small estate of his own, and being next heir to Sir Roger, he has quitted a way of life in which no man can rise suitably to his \o merit who is not something of a courtier as well as a soldier. I have heard him often lament that in a pro- fession where merit is placed in so conspicuous a view, impudence should get the better of modesty. When he has talked to this purpose I never heard him make a 15 sour expression, but frankly confess that he left the world because he was not fit for it. A strict honesty and an even, regular behavior are in themselves obstacles to him that must press through crowds who endeavor at the same end with himself, — the favor of a commander. to He will, however, in this way of talk, excuse generals for not disposing according to men's desert, or inquir- ing into it, "For," says he, "that great man who has a mind to help me, has as many to break through to come at me as I have to come at him": Therefore he will conclude that the man who would make a figure, espe- cially in a military way, must get over all false modesty, and assist his patron against the importunity of other pretenders by a proper assurance in his own vindication. He says it is a civil cowardice to be backward in assert- » ing what you ought to expect, as it is a military fear to 60 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS be slow in attacking when it is your dnt3\ With this candor does the gentleman speak of himself and others. The same frankness runs through all his conversation. The military part of his life has furnished him with many adventures, in the relation of which he is very 5 agreeable to the company ; for he is never overbearing, though accustome' to command men in the utmost degree below him ; nor ever too obsequious from an habit | of obeying men highly above him. 1 But that our society may not appear a set of humor- id ists,* unacquainted with the gallantries and pleasures of the age, we have among us the gallant Will Honeycomb, a gentleman who according to his years should be in the decline of his life, but having ever been very careful of his person, and always had a very easy fortune, time has made but very little impression either by wrinkles on his forehead or traces in his brain. His person is well turned, of a good height. He is very ready at that sort of discourse with which men usually entertain women. He has all his life dressed very well, and remembers habits* as others do men. He can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs easily. He knows the history of every mode, and can inform you from which of the : French king's wenches our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that way of placing their hoods ; whose frailty was covered by such a sort of petti- coat, and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and knowledge has been in the female world: As other men of his age will take notice to you 'c THE CLUB 61 what such a minister said upon such and such an occa- sion, he will tell you Avhen the Duke of Monmouth danced at court such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head of his troop in the Park. 5 In all these important relations, he has ever about the same time received a kind glance or a blow of a fan from some celebrated beauty, mother of the present Lord Such-a-one. If you speak of a young commoner that said a lively thing in the House, he starts up: "He has good blood in his veins ; Tom Mirabell begot him, the rogue cheated me in that affair; that young fellow's mother used me more like a dog than any woman I ever made advances to." This way of talking of his very much enlivens the conversation among us of a more 15 sedate turn ; and I find there is not one of the company but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks of him as of that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred, fine gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concerned he is an honest, worthy man. I cannot tell whether I am to account him whom I am next to speak of as one of our company, for he visits us but seldom; but when he does, it adds to every man else a new enjoyment of himself. He is a clergyman, a very philosophic man, of general learning, great sanctity of life, and the most exact good breeding. He has the misfortune to be of a very weak constitution, and conse- quently cannot accept of such cares and business as preferments in his functions would oblige him to, he is therefore among divines what a chamber-counsellor is among lawyers. The probity of his mind and the integ- 6k/ ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS rity of his life, create him followers, as being eloquent or loud advances others. He seldom introduces the subject he speaks upon; but we are so far gone in years, that he observes when he is among us, an earnestness to have him fall on some divine topic, which he always treats 5 with much authority, as one wdio has no interests in this world, as one who is hastening to the object of all his wishes, and conceives hope from his decays and infirmi- ties. These are my ordinary companions. K, I Ill SIR ROGER ON FASHION AND VIRTUE [No. 6. — Steele. Wednesday, March 7.] Credebant hoc grande nefas, et morte piandum, Si juvenis vetulo non assurrexerat-^ ■ — Juvenal. I know no evil under the sun so great as the abuse* of the understanding, and yet tliere is no one vice more common. It has diffused itself through both sexes, and all qualities* of mankind, and there is hardly that per- son to be found, who is not more concerned for the reputation of wit and sense, than honesty and virtue. But this unhappy affectation of being wise rather than honest, witty than good-natured, is the source of most of the ill habits of life. Such false impressions are owing to the abandoned writings of men of wit, and the awkward imitation of the rest of mankind. For this reason Sir Roger was saying last night, That he was of opinion none but men of fine parts deserve to be hanged. The reflections of such men are so delicate upon all occurrences which they are concerned in, that they should be exposed to more than ordinary infamy and punishment for offending against such quick* 'They held it to be gross impiety, worthy of death, if a youth did not rise in the presence of age. 64 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS admonitions as their own souls give them, and blunting i the fine edge of their minds in such a manner that they are no more shocked at vice and folly than men of slower ? capacities. There is no greater monster in being than a I very ill* man of great parts. He lives like a man in a 5 palsy, with one side of him dead. While perhaps he .1 enjoys the satisfaction of luxury, of wealth, of ambition, |l he has lost the taste of good-will, of friendship, of inno- cence. Scarecrow, the beggar, in Lincoln's -Inn-Fields, who disabled himself in his right leg and asks alms all 10 v day to get himself a warm supper and a trull at night, is not half so despicable a wretch, as such a man of sense. The beggar has no relish above sensations; he finds rest more agreeable than motion ; and while he has a warm fire and his doxy, never reflects that he deserves to be 1^ whipped. "Every man who terminates* his satisfactions and enjoyments within the supply of his own necessities and passions is," says Sir Roger, "in my eye, as poor a rogue as Scarecrow. But," continued he, "for the loss of aa^ public and private virtue, we are beholden to your men ^ of fine parts, forsooth; it is with them no matter what is done, so it is done with an air. But to me, who am so whimsical in a corrupt age as to act according to nature and reason, a selfish man, in the most shining circum- ssi' stance* and equipage*, appears in the same condition with the fellow above mentioned, but more contemptible in proportion to what more he robs the public of and enjoys above him.* I lay it down therefore for a rule, that the whole man is to move together; that every so SIE ROGER ON FASHION AND VIRTUE 65 action of any importance is to have a prospect of public good ; and that the general tendency of our indifferent actions ougnt co be agreeable to the dictates of reason, of religion, of ?ood-breeding ; without this, a man, as I 5 have before hinted, is hopping instead of walking, he is not in his entii*e and proper motion." While the honest knight was thus bewildering himself in good starts, I looked intentively upon him, which made him, I thought, collect his mind a little. **What ,0 I aim at," says he, "is to represent that I am of opin- ion, to polish our understandings and neglect oiu* man- ners is of all things the most inexcusable. Reason should govern passion, but instead of that, you see, it is often subservient to it; and, as* unaccountable as one would think it, a wise man is not always a good man." This degeneracy is not only the guilt of particular* persons, but also, at some times, of a whole people ; and perhaps it may appear upon examination, that the most polite ages are the least virtuous. This may be attributed to the folly of admitting wit and learning as merit in themselves, without considering the application of them. By this means it becomes a rule, not so much to regard what we do, as how we do it. But this false beauty will not pass upon men of honest minds and true f taste. Sir Richard Blackmore says, with as much good sense as virtue, "It is a mighty dishonor and shame to employ excellent faculties and abundance of wit, to humor and please men in their vices and follies. The great enemy of mankind, notwithstanding his wit and angelic faculties, is the most odious being in the whole G6 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS creation." He goes on soon after to say, very gener- ously, that he undertook the writing of his poem "to rescue the Muses out of the hands of ravishers, to restore them to theii- sweet and chaste mansions, and to engage them in an employment suitable to their dignity. ' ' This certainly ought to be the purpose of every man who appears in public, and whoever does not proceed upon that foundation, injures his country as fast as he suc- ceeds in his studies. When modesty ceases to be the chief ornament of one sex, and integi'ity of the other, lo society is upon a wrong basis, and we shall be ever after without rules to guide our judgment in what is really becoming and ornamental. Nature and reason direct one thing, passion and humor another. To follow the dictates of the two latter is going into a road that is both m endless and intricate; when we pursue the other, our passage is delightful, and what we aim at easily attain- able. I do not doubt but England is at present as polite a nation as any in the world; but any mauAvho thinks, can easily see that the affectation of being gay and in fashion has very near eaten up our good sense and our religion. Is there anything so just, as that mode and gallantry should be built upon exerting ourselves in what is proper and agreeable to the institutions of justice and piety among us? And yet is there anything more common, than that we run in perfect contradiction to them? All which is supported by no other pretension than that it is done with what we call a good grace. Nothing ou2-ht to be held laudable, or becoming, but SIR ROGER ON FASHION AND VIRTUE 67 what nature itself should prompt us to think so. Respect to all kinds of superiors is founded, methinks, upon instinct ; and yet what is so ridiculous* as age? I make this abrupt transition to the mention of this vice 6 more than sljij other, in order to 'introduce a little story, which I think a pretty instance that the most polite age is in danger of being the most vicious. It happened at Athens, during a public representation of some play exhibited in honor of the commonwealth, \o that an old gentleman came too late for a place suit- able to his age and quality. Many of the young gentle- men who observed the difficulty and confusion he was in, made signs to him that they would accommodate him if he came where they sat. The good man bustled ib through the crowd accordingly ; but when he came to the seats to which he was invited, the jest was to sit close and expose him, as he stood out of countenance to the whole audience. The frolic went round all the Athenian benches. But on those occasions there were io also particular places assigned for foreigners. When the good man skulked towards the boxes appointed for the Lacedemonians, that honest people, more virtuous than polite, rose up all to a man, and with the greatest respect received him among them. The Athenians !5 being suddenly touched with a sense of the Spartan virtue and their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of applause; and the old man cried out, "The Athenians understand what is good, but the Lacedemonians practise it. '* E. IV THE CLUB AGAIN [No. 34. — Addison. Monday, April 9.'\ Parcit Cognatis maculis similis fera .* — Juvenal. The club of wliich I am a member is very luckily com- posed of such persons as are engaged in different ways of life, and deputed as it were out of the most conspicuous classes of mankind : By this means I am furnished with the gi^eatest variety of hints and materials, and know s everything that passes in the different quarters and divisions, not only of this great city, but of the whole kingdom. My readers, too, have the satisfaction to find that there is no rank or degree among them who* have not their representative in this club, and that there is 1 always somebody present who will take care of their respective interests, that nothing may be written or publislied to the prejudice or infringement of their just rights and privileges. I last night sat very late in company with this select 1 body of friends, who entertained me with several remarks which they and others had made upon these my • A wild beast spares the creature spotted like itself, 68 I I THE CLUB AGAIN 69 speculations, as also with the various success which they had met with among their several ranks and degrees of readers. Will Honeycomb told me, in the softest* man- ner he could, that there were some ladies ("But for your 5 comfort," says Will, "they are not those of the most wit") that were offended at the liberties I had taken with the opera and the puppet-show : That some of them were likewise very much surprised that I should think such serious points as the dress and equipage of persons 10 of quality, proper subjects for raillery. He was going on, when Sir Andrew Freeport took him up short, and told him that the papers he hinted at had done great good in the city, and that all their wives and daughters were the better for them; and 15 further added, that the whole city thought themselves very much obliged to me for declaring my generous intentions to scourge vice and folly as they appear in a multitude, without condescending to be a publisher of particular intrigues. "In short," says Sir Andi'ew, "if JO you avoid that foolish, beaten road of falling upon alder- men and citizens, and employ your pen upon the vanity and luxury of courts, your paper must needs be of gen- eral use." Upon this my friend the Templar told Sir Andrew s "that he wondered to hear a man of his sense talk after that manner ; that the city had always been the province for satire; and that the wits of King Charles's time jested upon nothing else during his whole reign." He then shewed, by the examples of Horace, Juvenal, Boileau, and the best writers of every age, that the follies 70 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS of the stage and court had never been accounted too sacred for ridicule, how gi'eat soever the persons might be that patronized them. '^But after all," says he, '*I think your raillery has made too great an excursion, in attacking several persons of the Inns of Court ; and I do 5 not believe you can show me any precedent for your behavior in that particular." My good friend Sir Roger de Coverley, who had said nothing all this while, began his speech with a ''Pish!" and told us that he wondered to see so many men of loi sense so very serious upon fooleries. ''Let our good i friend," says he, "attack every one that deserves it; I j would only advise you, Mr. Spectator" (applying him- self to me), "to take care how you meddle with country squires : They are the ornaments of the English nation ; 15 men of good heads and sound bodies ! and, let me tell you, some of them take it ill of you that you mention fox-hunters with so little respect." Captain Sentry spoke very sparingly on this occasion. What he said was only to commend my prudence in not 20 touching upon the army, and advised me to continue to act discreetly in that point. By this time I found every subject of my speculations was taken away from me, by one* or other of the club, and began to think m3^self in the condition of the S5; good man that had one wife who took a dislike to his gray hairs, and another to his black, till by their picking out what each of them had an aversion to, they left his head altogether bald and naked. While I was thus musing with myself, my worthy sc^ THE CLUB AGAIN 71 friend the clergyman, who, very luckily for me, was at the club that night, undertook my cause. He told us that he wondered any order of persons should think themselves too considerable to be advised : That it was 5 not quality,* but innocence, which exempted men from reproof: That vice and folly ought to be attacked wherever they could be met with, and especially when they were placed in high and conspicuous stations of life. He further added, that my paper would only serve to aggravate the pains of poverty, if it chiefly exposed those who are already depressed, and in some measure turned into ridicule, by the meanness of their conditions and circumstances. He afterward proceeded to take notice of the great use this paper might be of to the 5 public, by reprehending those vices which are too trivial for the chastisement of the law, and too fantastical for the cognizance of the pulpit. He then advised me to prosecute my undertaking with cheerfulness, and assured me, that whoever might be displeased with me, I should fio be approved by all those whose praises do honor to the persons on whom they are bestowed. The whole club pays a particular deference to the dis- course of this gentleman, and are drawn into what he says, as much by the candid, ingenuous manner with »5 which he delivers himself, as by the strength of argu- ment and force of reason which he makes use of. Will Honeycomb immediately agreed that what he had said was right, and that, for his part, he would not insist upon the quarter which he had demanded for the ladies. ?o Sir Andrew gave up the city Vv'ith the same frankness. 72 KOGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS The Templar would not stand out, and was followed by Sir Roger and the Captain — who all agreed that I should be at liberty to carry the war into what quarter I pleased, provided I continued to combat with criminals in a body, and to assault the vice without hurting the person. This debate, which was held for the good of man- kind, put me in mind of that which the Roman triumvi- rate were formerly engaged in for their destruction. Every man at first stood hard for his friend, till they found that by this means they should spoil their proscription ; loji and at length, making a sacrifice of all their acquaint- ance and relations, furnished out a very decent execution. Having thus taken my resolutions to march on boldly in the cause of virtue and good sense,, and to annoy their adversaries in whatever degi'ee or rank of men they may ii be found, I shall be deaf for the future to all the remonstrances that shall be made to me on this account. If Punch grows extravagant, I shall reprimand him very freely: If the stage becomes a nursery of folly and impertinence, I shall not be afraid to animadvert upon 2(| it. In short, if I meet with anything in city, court, or country, that shocks modesty or good manners, I shall use my utmost endeavors to make an example of it. I must, however, intreat every particular person who does me the honor to be a reader of this paper, never to think 2s| himself, or any one of his friends or enemies, aimed at in what is said: for I promise him, never to draw a faulty character which does not fit at least a thousand people ; or to publish a single paper that is not written in the spirit of benevolence and with a love to mankind. A LADY'S LIBRARY [No. S7.— Addison. Thursday, ApHl 12.] -Non ilia colo calathisve Minervse Femineas assueta manus .* — Virgil. Some months ago, my friend Sir Roger, being in the country, enclosed a letter to me, directed to a certain lady, whom I shall here call by the name of Leonora,* and as it contained matters of consequence, desired me 5 to deliver it to her with my own hand. Accordingly I waited upon her Ladyship pretty early in the morning, and was desired by her woman to walk into her Lady's library, till such time as she was in a readiness to receive me. The very sound of a lady^s library gave me a great curiosity to see it ; and as it was some time before the lady came to me, I had an opportunity of turning over a great many of her books, which were ranged together in a very beautiful order. At the end of the folios (which were finely bound and gilt) were gi'eat jars of china 5 placed one above another in a very noble piece of archi- tecture. The quartos were separated from the octavos by a pile of smaller vessels, which rose in a delightful pyramid. The octavos were bounded by tea-dishes of \ * Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskilled. — Dryden, T3 74 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS all shapes, colors, and sizes, which were so disposed on a wooden frame that they looked like one continued pillar indented with the finest strokes of sculpture and stained with the greatest variety of dyes. That part of the library which was designed for the reception of plays and pamphlets, and other loose papers, was enclosed in a kind of square, consisting of one of the prettiest grotesque works that ever I saw, and made up of scaramouches, lions, monkeys, mandarins, trees, shells, and a thousand other odd figures in china Mjj ware. In the midst of the room was a little japan table, '' with a quire of gilt paper upon it, and on the paper a silver snuff box made in the shape of a little book, I found there were several other counterfeit books upon the upper shelves, which were carved in wood, and i8i served only to fill up the number, like fagots in the mus- ter of a regiment. I was wonderfully pleased with such a mixed kind of furniture as seemed very suitable both to the lady and the scholar, and did not know, at first, whether I should fancy myself in a grotto or in a 20^ library. Upon my looking into the books, I found there were some few which the lady had bought for her own use; but that most of them had been got together, either because she had heard them praised, or because she had 25:;' seen the authors of them. Among several that I ' examined, I very well remember these that follow: Ogilby's Virgil. Dryden's Juvenal. ' Cassandra. 3© A LADY'S LIBRARY 75 Cleopatra. Astrgea. Sir Isaac Newton's Works. The Grand C3rrus; with a pin stuck in one of the ^ middle leaves. Pembroke's Arcadia. Lock of Human Understanding;* with a paper oi patches in it. A spelling-book. A dictionary for the explanation of hard words. Sherlock upon Death. The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony. Sir William Temple's Essays. Father Malebranche 's Search after Truth; translated 5 into English. A book of novels. The Academy of Compliments. Culpepper's Midwifery. The Ladies' Calling. Tales in Verse, by Mr. D'Urfey; bound in red leather, gilt on the back, and doubled down in several places. All the classic authors in wood. A set of Elzevirs by the same hand.* *A poor pun on Locke's famous essay concerning the Human Understanding, *The phrase "by the same hand" was a common phrase at this time for "by the same author." Here it means by the binder or carpenter, — a sly hit at the superficiaUty of Leo- nora's understanding. 76 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS Clelia; which opened of itself in the place that describes two lovers in a boAver. Baker's Chronicle. Advice to a Daughter. The New Atalantis, with a key to it. Mr. Steele's Christian Hero.^ A prayer-book; with a bottle of Hungary water by the side of it. Dr. Sacheverell's speech. Fielding's Trial. Seneca's Morals. Taylor's Holy Living and Dying. La Ferte's Instructions lor Country Dances. I was taking a catalogue in my pocket-book of these and several other authors, when Leonora entered, and, 155 upon my presenting her with the letter from the knight told me, with an unspeakable grace, that she hoped Sir Roger was in good health; I answered ''Yes," for I hate long speeches, and after a bow or two retired. Leonora was formerly a celebrated beauty, and is still 20 a very lovely woman. She has been a widow for two or three years, and being unfortunate in her first marriage, has taken a resolution never to venture upon a second. She has no children to take care of, and leaves the management of her estate to my good friend Sir Roger. But as the mind naturally sinks into a kind of lethargy, and falls asleep, that is not agitated by some favorite ^ Written by Dick Steele in one of his serious moments. Addison doesn't resist the temptation to quiz him on the sub- ject. See Introduction, Section 30. A LADY'S LIBRARY 77 pleasures and pursuits, Leonora has turned all the pas- sions of her sex into a love of books and retirement. She converses chiefly with men (as she has often said herself) , but it is only in their writings ; and admits ot very few male visitants except my friend Sir Roger, whom she hears with great pleasure and without scandal. As her reading has lain very much among romances, it has given her a very particular* turn of thinking, and discovers itself even in her house, her gardens, and her ) furniture. Sir Roger has entertained me an hour together with a description of her country seat, which is situated in a kind of wilderness, about an hundred miles distant from London, and looks like a little enchanted palace. The rocks about her are shaped into J artificial grottoes covered with woodbines and jessamines. The woods are cut into shady walks, twisted into bowers, and filled with cages of turtles. * The springs are made to run among pebbles, and by that means taught to murmur very agreeably. They are likewise collected into a beau- tiful lake that is inhabited by a couple of swans, and empties itself by a little rivulet, which runs through a green meadow, and is known in the family by the name of The Purling Stream. The knight likewise tells me that this lady preserves 3 her game better than any of the gentlemen in the country. *'Not," says Sir Roger, *'that she sets so great a value upon her partridges and pheasants, as upon her larks and nightingales ; for she says that every bird which is killed in her ground will spoil a concert, and that she shall certainly miss him the next year." 78 EOGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS When I think how oddly this lady is improved by learning, I look upon her with a mixture of admhation and pity. Amidst these innocent entertainments which she has formed to herself, how much more valuable does she appear than those of her sex who employ themselves 5 in diversions that are less reasonable, though more in fashion. What improvements would a woman have made, who is so susceptible of impressions from what she reads, had she been guided to such books as have a tend- ency to enlighten the understanding and rectify the lO passions, as well as to those which are of little more use than to divert the imagination. But the manner of a lady's employing herself usefully in reading shall be the subject of anotlier paper, in which I design to recommend such particular books as li may be proper for the improvement of the sex. And as this is a subject of a very nice nature, I shall desire my correspondents to give me their thoughts^ upon it. ^For these thoughts, see Spectators Nos. 92 and 140. Addison and Steele are more interesting when they talk as members of the club than when they talk in the persons of their correspondents. VI COVERLEY HALL [No. 106. —Addison. Monday, July 2.] Hinc tibi copia Manabit ad plenum, benigno Ruris honorum opuleDta cornii. ^ —Horace 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- 5 lionse, where I intend to form several of my ensning speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humor, 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 meiTy. 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 an hedge, and have heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to 5 be stared at. I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family because ^ Here plenty shall flow for you and pour out the riches ol the honors of the country. 80 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS 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 serv- ants never care for leaving him: By this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their i master. You would take his valet de cliamhre for his brother, his butler is gray-headed, his groom is one of the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of a privy counsellor. Y^ou see the good- ness of the master even in the old house-dog, and in a n 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 ifi 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 everybody to him, so that when he is pleasant* upon any of them, all his family are in good humor, 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. COVERLEY HALL 81 My worthy friend has put me under the particTilar care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully desir- ous 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 dependant. I have observed in several of my papers that my friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of an humorist ; and that his virtues as well as imperfec- tions are, as it were, tinged by a certain extravagance which makes them particularly his, and distinguislies 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 degi^ee of sense and virtue would appear in their common and ordinary colors. Ae 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 82 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS plain sense than mncli 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 5 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 other of my tenants, his parishioners. There has not i been a lawsuit 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 judg- ment, 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 ^ Sir Roger very pleasantly magnifies his office as country squire, and forgets that it takes a scholar to recognize a scholar. 1 COVERLEY HALL 83 we were talking of came up to us; and upon the knight 'a asking him who preached to-morrow (for it was Satur- day night), told us the Bishop of St. Asaph in the morn- ing and Doctor South in the afternoon. He then 5 showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Doctor Barrow, Doctor 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 grace- fulness of his figure and delivery, as well as with the dis- ccurses 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 p 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. L. I VII THE COVERLEY HOUSEHOLD [No. 107.— Steele. Tuesday, July 3."] ^sopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici, Servumque coUocarunt asterna in basi, Patere honoris scirent ut cunctis viam, ^ — PhcEdrus. The reception, manner of attendance, undisturbed freedom and quiet, which I 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 5» 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 lo 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 > The Athenians erected a large statue to ^sop, and placed him, a slave, on an eternal pedestal, to show that the path to honor lies open to all. *Find a paraphrase for this somewhat strained expression. 84 THE COVERLEY HOUSEHOLD 85 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 6 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 cheer- fulness in performance of then- 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* ma-sters often give to worthy servants ; but it is often to know, what road 1 5 he took, that he came so readily back according to order ; r 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 benev- JO olence to his dependents lives rather like a prince than a master in his family ; his orders are received as favors rather than duties; and the distinction of approaching him is part of the reward for executing what is com- manded by him. !5 There is another circumstance in which my friend excels in his management, which is the manner of rewarding his servants. He has ever been of opinion, that giving his cast* clothes to be worn by valets has a very ill effect upon little minds, and creates a silly sense » of equality between the parties, in persons affected only 86 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS with outward things. I have heard him often pleasant on this occasion, and describe a young gentleman abus- ing his man in that coat, which a month or two before was the most pleasing distinction he was conscious of in himself. He would turn his discourse still more pleas- antly upon the ladies' bounties of this kind; and I have heard him say he knew a fine woman, who distributed rewards and punishments in giving becoming or unbe- coming dresses to her maids. But my good friend is above these little instances of ic 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 an husband,* and knows so thoroughly that the skill of the purse is the cardinal virtue of this is life ; I say, he knows so well that frugality is the sup- port 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 20 more comfortable maintenance, if he stays in his service. A man of honor and generosity considers it would be miserable to himself to have no will but that of another, though it were of the best person breathing, and for that reason goes on as fast as he is able to put his servants 25 into independent livelihoods. The greatest part of Sir Roger's estate is tenanted by persons who have served himself or his ancestors. It was to me extremely pleas- ant to observe the visitants from several parts to wel- come his arrival into the country : and all the difference 30 THE COVERLEY HOUSEHOLD 8? that I could take notice of between the late servants who came to see him, and those who stayed in the family, was that these latter were looked upon as finer gentlemen and better courtiers. This manumission and placing them in a way of liveli- hood I look upon as only what is due to a good servant, which encouragement will make his successor be as diligent, 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. One might, on this occasion, recount the sense that great persons in all ages have had of the merit of their dependants, 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 specu- lation only as a gentle admonition to thankless masters, I shall not go out of the occurrences of common life, but () assert it, as a general observation, that I never saw, bat in Sir Roger's family and one or two more, good servants treated as they ought to be. Sir Roger's kindness extends to their children's children, and this very morn- ing he sent his coachman's grandson to prentice. I 5 shall conclude this paper with an account of a picture in his gallery, where there are many which will deserve my future observation. At the very upper end of this handsome structure I saw the portraiture of two young men standing in a river, the one naked, the other in a livery. The person 88 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS supported seemed half dead, but still so much alive as to | show in his face exquisite joy and love towards the ] other. I thought the fainting figure resembled my friend Sir Eoger; and, looking at the butler, who stood by me, for an account of it, he informed me that the 6 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 gTcat bounty at that time, followed by his favor ever since, liad made him master of that pretty seat which we sav/ at a distance as we came to this house. I remembered indeed Su* Roger said there lived a very worthy gentleman, to whom he was highly t obliged, without mentioning anything further. Upon my looking a little dissatisfied at some part of the pic- ture, my attendant informed me that it was against Sir Roger's will, and at the earnest request of the gentleman himself, that he was drawn in the habit in which he had a saved his master, R. VIII WILL WIMBLE [No. 108.— Addison. Wednesday, Jidy 4.] Gratis anhelans, multa agendo nihil agens.^ — Phcedrus. As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir Roger before his house, a country fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he told him, Mr. William Wimble* had \ caught that very morning; and that he presented it, 6 with* his service to him, and intended to come and dine with him. At the same time he delivered a letter, which my friend read to me as soon as the messenger left him. ' "Sir Roger: 10 "I desire you to accept of a jack, which is the best I have caught this season. I intend to come \ and stay with you a week, and see how the perch bite in I the Black River. I observed with some concern, the last time I saw you upon the bowling-green, that your 15 whip wanted a lash to it : I will bring half a dozen with I me that I twisted last week, which I hope will serve you all the time you are in the country. I have not been ' Out of breath for no purpose ; in doing many things, doing nothing. 90 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS out of the saddle for six days last past, having been at Eton with Sir John's eldest son. He takes to his learn- ing hngely. "I am, sir, your humble servant, "Will Wimble.*' 5 This extraordinary letter and message that accom- panied it made me very curious to know the character and quality of the gentleman who sent them, which I found to be as follows. W^ill AVimble is younger brother to a baronet, and descended of the ancient family of the lo AVimbles. He is now between forty and fifty, but, being bred to no business and born to no estate, he generally lives with his elder brother as superintendent of his game. He hunts a pack of dogs better than any man in the country, and is very famous for finding out a hare. 15 He is extremely well versed in all the little handicrafts of an idle man ; he makes a may-fly to a miracle ; and furnishes the whole country with angle-rods. As he is a good-natured, officious* fellow, and very much esteemed upon account of his family, he is a welcome 20 guest at every house, and keeps up a good correspond- ence* among all the gentlemen about him. He carries a tulip-root in his pocket from one to another, or exchanges a puppy between a couple of friends that live perhaps in the opposite sides of the county. Will is a 25 particular favorite of all the young heirs, whom he fre- quently obliges with a net that he has weaved, or a set- ting-dog that he has made himself. He now and then presents a pair of garters of his own knitting to their mothers or sisters, and raises a gi-cat deal of mirth among 30 WILL WIMBLE 91 them by inquiring, as often as he meets them, lioiv they ivear. These gentleman-like manufactures and obliging little humors make AVill the darling of the country. Sir Eoger was proceeding in the character of him, when we saw him make up to us with two or three hazel -twigs in his hand that he had cut in Sir Roger's woods, as he came through them, in his way to the house. I was very much pleased to observe on one side the hearty and sincere welcome with which Sir Roger received him, and on the other, the secret joy which his guest discovered at sight of the good old knight. After the first salutes were over, Will desired Sir Roger to lend him one of his servants to carry a set of shuttle- cocks he had with him in a little box to a lady that lived 5 about a mile off, to whom it seems he had promised such a present for above this half year. Sir Roger's back was no sooner turned but honest Will began to tell i me of a large cock pheasant that he had sprung in one of the neighboring woods, with two or three other adventures of the same nature. Odd and uncommon characters are the game that I look for and most delight in ; for which reason I was as much pleased with the novelty of the pers 3n that talked to me as he could be for his life with the springing of a pheasant, and there- 's fore listened to him with more than ordinary attention. In the midst of his discourse the bell rung to dinner, where the gentleman I have been speaking of had the pleasure of seeing the huge jack he had caught, served up for the first dish in a most sumptuous manner, to Upon our sitting down to it he gave us a long account 92 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS how he had hooked it, played with it, foiled it, and at length drew it out upon the bank, with several other particulars that lasted all the first course. A dish of wild fowl that came afterwards furnished conversation for the rest of the dinner, which concluded with a late 5 invention of AVill's for improving the quail-pipe. Upon withdrawing into my room after dinner, I was secretly touched with compassion towards the honest gentleman that had dined with us, and could not but consider with a great deal of concern how so good an u heart and such busy hands were wholly employed in trifles ; that so much humanity should be so little bene- ficial to others, and so much industry so little advan- tageous to himself. The same temper of mind and application to aifairs might have recommended him to it the public esteem, and have raised his fortune in another station of life. What good to his country or himself might not a trader or merchant have done with such useful though ordinary qualifications? Will Wimble's is the case of many a younger brother 2C of a great family, who had rather see their children starve like gentlemen than thrive in a trade or profession ( that is beneath their quality. This humor fills several parts of Europe with pride and beggary. It is the happiness of a trading nation, like ours, that the 25 younger sons, though uncapable of any liberal art or profession, may be placed in such a way of life as may perhaps enable them to vie with the best of their family. Accordingly we find several citizens that were launched into the world with narrow fortunes, rising by an honest so WILL WIMBLE 93 industry to greater estates than those of their elder brothers. It is not improbable but Will was formerly tried at divinity, law, or physic; and that finding his genius did not lie that way, his parents gave him up at 6 length to his own inventions : But certainly, however improper he might have been for studies of a higher nature, he was perfectly well turned for the occupations of trade and commerce. As I think this a point which cannot be too much inculcated, I shall desire my reader 10 to compare what I have here written with what I have said in my Twenty-First Speculation. ju. IX THE FAMILY PORTRAITS [No. 109. —Steele. Tliursday, July 5.] Abnormis sapiens." — Horace. I was this morning walking in the gallery, when Sir Roger entered at the end opposite to me, and, advancing towards me, said he was glad to meet me among his rela- tions, the de Coverleys, and hoped I liked the conversa- tion of so much good company, who were as silent as 5 myself. I knew he alluded to the pictures, and, as he is a gentleman who does not a little value himself upon his ancient descent, I expected he would give me some account of them. We were now arrived at the upper end of the gallery, when the knight faced towards one of lO the pictures, and, as we stood before it, he entered into the matter, after his blunt way of saying things as they occur to his imagination, without regular introduction or care to preserve the appearance of chain of thought. "It is," said he, "worth while to consider the force 15 of dress, and how the persons of one age differ from those of another merely by that only. One may observe, also, that the general fashion of one age has been fol- 1 Oddly wise. 94 THE FAMILY PORTRAITS 95 lowed by one particular set of people in another, and by them preserved from one generation to another. Thus, the vast jetting coat and small bonnet, which was the habit in Harry the Seventh's time, is kei3t on in the 5 yeomen of the guard ; not without a good and politic view, because they look a foot taller, and a foot and a half broader: Besides that the cap leaves the face expanded, and consequently more terrible, and fitter to stand at the entrance of palaces. 10 "This predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after this manner, and his cheeks would be no larger than mine, were he in a hat as I am. He was the last man that won a prize in the Tilt Yard (which is now a common street before Whitehall), You see the broken lance that 15 lies there by his right foot : he shivered that lance of his adversary all to pieces; and, bearing himself, look you, sir, in this manner, at the same time he came within the target* of the gentleman who rode against him, and taking him with incredible force before him on the 20 pommel of his saddle, he in that manner rid the tournament over, with an air that showed he did it rather to perform the rule of the lists than expose his enemy; however, it appeared he knew how to make use of a victory, and, with a gentle trot, he marched up to 25 a gallery where their mistress sat (for they were rivals) and let him down with laudable courtesy and pardonable insolence. I don't know but it might be exactly where the coffee-house is now. "You are to know this my ancestor was not only of a 30 military genius, but fit also for the arts of peace, for he 96 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS played on the bass-viol as well as any gentleman at court ; yon see where his viol hangs by his basket-hilt sword. The action at the Tilt Yard you may be sure won the fair lady, who was a maid of honor, and the greatest beauty of her time; here she stands, the next 5 picture. You see, sir, my great-great-great-gi*andmother has on the new-fashioned petticoat, except that the modern is gathered at the waist; my grandmother appears as if she stood in a large di'um, whereas the ladies now walk as if they were in a go-cart. * For all 10 this lady was bred at court, she became an excellent country wife; she brought ten children, and, when I show you the library, you shall see, in her own hand (allowing for the difference of the language), the best receipt now in England both for an hasty-pudding and 15 a white-pot. "If you please to fall back a little — because it is neces- sary to look at the three next pictures at one view — these are three sisters. She on the right hand, who is so very beautiful, died a maid; the next to her, still handsomer, 20 had the same fate, against her will ; this homely thing in the middle had both their portions added to her own, and was stolen by a neighboring gentleman, a man of stratagem and resolution, for he poisoned tlii^ee mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down two deer -stealers in 25 carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in all families. The theft of this romp and so much money was no great matter to our estate. But the next heir that possessed it was this soft gentleman, whom you see there: Observe the small buttons, the little boots, the 30 THE FAMILY PORTRAITS 97 laces, the slashes* about his clothes, and, above all, the posture he is drawn in (which to be sure was his own choosing) ; you see he sits with one hand on a desk, writing and looking, as it were^ another way, like an easy writer or a sonneteer. He was one of those that had too much wit to know how to live in the world ; he was a man of no justice, but great good manners ; he ruined everybody that had anything to do with him, but never said a rude thing in his life; the most indolent person in the world, he would sign a deed that passed away half his estate, with his gloves on, but would not put on his hat before a lady if it were to save his coun- try. He is said to be the first that made love by squeez- ing the hand. He left the estate with ten thousand 5 pound^s debt irpon it; but, however, by all hands I have been informed that he was every way the finest gentle- man in the world. That debt lay heavy on our house for one generation ; but it was retrieved by a gift from that honest man you see there, a citizen of our name, but nothing at all akin to us. I know Sir Andi-ew Freeport has said behind my back that this man was descended from one of the ten children of the maid of honor I showed you above ; but it was never made out. We winked* at the thing, indeed, because money was 5 wanting at that time." Here I saw my friend a little embarrassed, and turned my face to the next portraiture. Sir Roger went on with his account of the gallery in the following manner: "This man" (pointing to him I D looked at) "I take to be the honor of our house, Sir 98 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS Humphrey de Coverley; he was, in his dealings, as punctual as a tradesman and as generous as a gentleman. He would have thought himself as much undone by breaking his word as if it were to be followed by bank- ruptcy. He served his country as knight of this shire to 8 his dying day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an integrity in his words and actions, even in things that regarded the offices* which were incumbent upon him, in the care of his own affairs and relations of life, and therefore dreaded (though he had great talents) to lo go into employments of state, where he must be exposed to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great ability were the distinguishing parts of his character; the latter, he had often observed, had led to the destruction of the former, and used frequently to lament i5! that great and good had not the same signification. He was an excellent husbandman, but had resolved not to exceed such a degi'ee of wealth ; all above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years after the sum he aimed at for his own use was attained. Yet he did not slacken his 20 industry, but to a decent old age spent the life and fortune which was superfluous to himself, in the service of his friends and neighbors." Here we were called to dinner, and Sir Roger ended the discourse of this gentleman by telling me, as we fol- 36 lowed the servant, that this his ancestor was a brave man, and narrowly escaped being killed in the Civil Wars; *'for,'* said he, "he was sent out of the field upon a private message the day before the battle of Worcester." THE FAMILY PORTRAITS 99 The whim of narrowly escaping by having been within a day of danger, with other matters above mentioned, mixed with good sense, left me at a loss whether I waa Diore delighted with my friend's wisdom or simplicity. THE COVERLEY GHOST [No. 110.— Addison. Friday, July 6.] Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa sileutia terrent.^ — Virgil. At a little distance from Sir Roger's house, among the ruins of an old abbey, there is a long walk of aged elms, which are shot up so very high that, when one passes under them, the rooks and crows that rest upon the tops of them seem to be cawing in another region. I am very much delighted with this sort of noise, which I consider as a kind of natural prayer to that Being who supplies the wants of His whole creation, and who, in the beautiful language of the Psalms, feedeth the young ravens that call upon Him. I like this retirement the better, because of an ill report it lies under of being haunted ; for which reason (as I have been told in the family) no living creature ever walks in it besides the chaplain. My good friend, the butler, desired me, with a very grave face, not to venture myself in it after sun- set, for that one of the footmen had been almost frighted out of his wits by a spirit that appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without an head ; to which he ^ On every side horror makes our hearts quail, the very eilence terrifies. 100 THE COVERLEY GHOST lOl added, that about a month ago one of the maids coming home late that way, with a pail of milk upon her head, heard such a rustling among the bushes that she let it fall. > I was taking a walk in this place last night, between the hours of nine and ten, and could not but fancy it one of the most proper scenes in the world for a ghost to appear in. The ruins of the abbey are scattered up and down on every side, and half covered with ivy and ) elder bushes, the harbors of several solitary birds which seldom make their appearance till the dusk of the evening. The place was formerly a church -yard, and has still several marks in it of graves and burying-places. There is such an echo among the old ruins and vaults that, if you stamp but a little louder than ordinary, you hear the sound repeated. At the same time the walk of elms, with the croaking of the ravens, which from time to time are heard from the tops of them, looks exceeding solemn and venerable. These objects naturally raise seriousness and attention ; and when night heightens the awfulness of the place, and pours out her supernumerary horrors upon everything in it, I do not at all wonder that weak minds fill it with spectres and apparitions. Mr. Locke, in his chapter of the Association of Ideas, has very curious remarks to show how, by the prejudice of education, one idea often introduces into the mind a whole set that bear no resemblance to one another in the nature of things. Among several examples of this kind, he produces the following instance: "The ideas of gob- lins and sprites have really no more to do with darkness 102 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS than light ; yet, let but a foolish maid inculcate these often on the mind of a child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall never be able to separate their again so long as he lives, but darkness shall ever after- wards bring with it those frightful ideas, and they shall be so joined that he can no more bear the one than the other." As I was walking in this solitude, where the dusk ol the evening conspired with so many other occasions ol terror, I observed a cow grazing not far from me^ which an imagination that was apt to startle might easily have construed into a black horse without an head ; and( I dare say the poor footman lost his wits upon some sucH trivial occasion. My friend Sir Roger has often told me with a great deal of mirth, that at his first coming to his estate, he found three parts of his house altogether useless ; thai the best room in it had the reputation of being haunted, and by that means was locked up ; that noises had been heard in his long gallery, so that he could not get servant to enter it after eight o 'clock at night ; that the' door of one of his chambers was nailed up, because there went a story in the family that a butler had formerl}) hanged himself in it ; and that his mother, who lived tc a great age, had shut up half the rooms in the house, in which either her husband, a son, or daughter had died. The knight, seeing his habitation reduced to so small a compass, and himself in a manner shut out of his own house, upon the death of his mother ordered all the apartments to be flung open and exorcised by his chap- THE COVERLEY GHOST 103 lain, who lay in every room one after another, and by that means dissipated the fears which had so long reigned in tlie family. I should not have been thus particular upon these 5 ridiculous horrors, did I not find them so very much prevail in all i:)arts of the country. At the same time, I think a person who is thus terrified with the imagina- tion of ghosts and spectres much more reasonable than one who, contrary to the reports of all historians, sacred 10 and profane, ancient and modern, and to the traditions of all nations, thinks the appearance of spirits fabulous and groundless; could not I give myself up to this general testimony of mankind, I should to the relations of particular persons who are now living, and whom I 15 cannot distrust in other matters of fact. I might here add, that not only the historians, to whom we may join the poets, but likewise the philosophers of antiquity have favored this opinion. Lucretius himself, though by the course of his philosophy he was obliged to main- 20 tain that the soul did not exist separate from the body, makes no doubt of the reality of apparitions, and that men have often appeared after their death. This I think very remarkable; he was so jDressed with the matter of fact which he could not have the confidence to 25 deny, that he was forced to account for it by one of the most absurd, unphilosophical notions that was ever started. He tells us that the surfaces of all bodies are perpetually flying off from their respective bodies one after another, and that these surfaces or thin cases that 3c included each other, whilst they were joined in the body, 104 ROGKR DE COVERLEY PAPERS like the coats of an onion, are sometimes seen entire when they are separated from it ; by which means we often behold the shapes and shadows of persons who are either dead or absent. I shall dismiss this paper with a story out of Josephus, 5 not so much for the sake of the story itself as for the moral reflections with which the author concludes it, and which I shall here set down in his own words: "Glaphyra, the daughter of King Archelaus, after the death of her two first husbands (being married to a lo third, who was brother to her. first husband, and so passionately in love with her that he turned off his former wife to make room for this marriage) had a very odd kind of dream. She fancied that she saw her first husband, coming towards her, and that she embraced 15 him with great tenderness; when in the midst of the pleasure which she expressed at the sight of him, he reproached her after the following manner : " 'Glaphyra,' says he, 'thou hast made good the old saying that women are not to be trusted. Was not I the 80 husband of thy virginity? Have I not children by thee? How couldst thou forget our loves so far as to enter into a second marriage, and after that into a third, nay, to take for thy husband a man who has so shamelessly crept into the bed of his brother. However, for the sake of 25 our past loves, I shall free thee from thy present reproach, and make thee mine for ever.' "Glaphyi'a told this dream to several women of her acquaintance, and died soon after. "I thought this story might not be impertinent in this 30 THE COVERLEY GHOST 105 place wlierein I speak of those* kings : Besides that, the example deserves to be taken notice of, as it contains a most certain proof of the immortality of the soul, and of divine providence. If any man thinks these facts 5 incredible, let him enjoy his own opinion to himself, but let him not endeavor to disturb the belief of others, who by instances of this nature are excited to the study of virtue." L. XI SUNDAY WITH SIR ROGER [No. 11^.— Addison. Monday, July 9.] Tt>a.i — Pythagoras. I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and tliink, if keeping holy tlie seventh day w^ere only a human institution, it would be the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing and civil- izing of mankind. It is certain the country people would b soon degenerate into a kind of savages 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 indifferent subjects, hear their duties lo 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 notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting 15 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 ^ First fear the immortal gods, as the law directs. i06 SUNDAY WITH SIR ROGER 107 upon the Change, the wliole parish politics being gener- ally discussed in that place, either after sermon or before the bell rings. My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has 5 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 ; 10 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 15 the Psalms ; upon which they now very much value themselres, 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 20 to sleep in it besides himself; for, if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recover- ing out of it he stands up and looks about him, and, if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them him- self, or sends his servant to them. Several other of the 25 old knight's particularities break out upon these occa- sions ; 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 ' What is implied in this word? 108 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces *'Amen" three or four times to the same prayer; and sometimes stands up when everybody^ else is upon their knees, to count the congregation, or set? if any of his tenants are missing. 5 I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews, it seems, is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that lo time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behavior ; i5 besides that the general good sense and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these little singular- ities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good qualities. As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to 20 stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down from his seat in the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to him on each side, and every now and then inqukes how such ^in one's wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he 25 does not see at church, — which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. The chaplain has often told me that, upon a catechising day, when ^ Notice the error in grammar. SUNDAY WITH SIR ROGER 109 Sir Roger had been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given him next day for his encouragement, and sometimes accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has likewise 5 added five pounds a year to the clerk's place and that he may encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church -service, has promised upon the death of the present incumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to merit. 10 The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable, because the very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that rise between the parson and the 'squire, who live in a per- 15 petual state of war. The parson is always preaching at the 'squire; and the 'squire, to be revenged on the parson, never comes to church. The 'squire has made all his tenants atheists and tithe-stealers ; while the par- son instructs them every Sunday in the dignity of his 20 order, and insinuates to them in almost every sermon that he is a better man than his patron. In short, matters have come to such an extremity, that the 'squire has not said his prayers either in public or private this half year; and that the parson threatens him, if he does 25 not mend his manners, to pray for him in the face of the whole congregation. Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very fatal to the ordinary people ; who are so used to be dazzled with riches, that they pay as much 30 deference to the understanding of a man of an estate, as 110 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS of a man of learning ; and are very hardly brought to regard any truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them, when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not believe it. L. XII SIR ROGER IN LOVE [No. llS.—Steele. Tuesday, July 10.] • Haerent infixi pectore vultus.^ — Virgil. In my first description of the company in which I pass most of my time, it may be remembered that I men- tioned a gTeat affliction which my friend Sir 'Roger had met with in his yonth : which ^vas no less than a disap- 5 pointment in love. It happened this evening that we fell into a very pleasing walk at a distance from his house: As soon as we came into it, "It is," quoth the good old man, looking round him with a smile, "very hard that any part of my land should be settled* upon 10 one who has used me so ill as the perverse widow did ; and yet I am sure I could not see a sprig of any bough of this whole walk of trees but I should reflect upon her and her severity. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. You are to know this was 15 the place wnerein I used to muse upon her ; and by* that custom I can never come into it but the same tender sentiments revive in my mind, as if I had actually walked with that beautiful creature under these shades. * The face abides deep graven in one's heart. Ill 112 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS I have been fool enough to carve her name on the bark of several of these trees ; so unhappy is the condition of men in love to attempt the removing of their passions by the methods which serve only to imprint it deeper. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world." Here followed a profound silence ; and I was not dis- pleased to observe my friend falling so naturally into a discourse which I had ever before taken notice he industriously avoided. After a very long pause he entered upon an account of this great circumstance in iO( his life, with an air which I thought raised my idea of him above what I had ever had before ; and gave me the picture of that cheerful mind of his before it received that stroke which has ever since affected his words and actions. But he went on as follows : 15 *'I came to my estate in my twenty-second year, and resolved to follow the steps of the most worthy of my ancestors who have inhabited this spot of earth before me, in all the methods of hospitality and good neighbor- hood, for the sake of my fame ; and in country sports 2a and recreations, for the sake of my health. In my twenty-third year I was obliged to serve as Sheriff of the County; and in my servants, officers, and whole equip- age, indulged the pleasure of a young man (who did not think ill of his own person) in taking that public occa- sion of showing my figure and behavior to advantage. You may easily imagine to yourself what appearance I made, who am pretty tall, rid well, and was very well dressed, at the head of a whole county, with music before me, a feather in my hat, and my horse well 30; SIR ROGER IN LOVE 113 bitted. I can assure you I was not a little pleased with the kind looks and glances I had from all the bal- conies and windows, as I rode to the hall where the assizes were held. But when I came there, a beautiful 5 creature in a widow's habit sat in court, to hear the event of a cause concerning her dower. This command- ing creature (who was born for destruction of all who behold her) put on such a resignation in her counte- nance, and bore the whispers of all around the court with 10 such a pretty uneasiness, I warrant you, and then recoTered herself from one eye to another, till she was perfectly confused by meeting something so wistful in all she encountered, that at last, with a murrain to her, she cast her bewitching eye upon me. I no sooner met 15 it but I bowed like a great surprised booby; and, know- ing her cause to be the first which came on, I cried, like a captivated calf as I was, 'Make way for the defend- ant's* witnesses.' This sudden partiality made all the county immediately see the sheriff also was become a so slave to the fine widow. During the time her cause was upon trial, she behaved herself, I warrant you, with such a deep attention to her business, took opportunities to have little billets handed to her counsel, then would be in such a pretty confusion, occasioned, you must know, 35 by acting before so much company, that not only I but the whole court was prejudiced in her favor; and all that the next heir to her husband had to urge was thought so gi'oundless and frivolous that, when it came to her coun- sel to reply, there was not half so much said as every one w besides in the court thought he could have m-ged to her I 114 '^ ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS advantage. Yon must understand, sir, this pervei'se woman is one of those unaccountable creatures that secretly rejoice in the admiration of men, but indulge themselves in no further consequences. Hence it is that she has ever had a train of admirers, and she removes 5 from her slaves in town to those in the country accord- ing to the seasons of the year. She is a reading lady, and far gone in the pleasures of friendship; she is always accompanied by a confidante, who is witness to her daily protestations against our sex, and consequently a bar to lo her first steps towards love, upon the strength of her own maxims and declarations. "However, I must needs say this accomplished mis- tress of mine has distinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir Roger de Coverley was the is tamest and most human of all the brutes in the country. I was told she said so by one who thought he rallied me; but, upon the strength of this slender encouragement of being thought least detestable, I made new liveries, new- paired my coach-horses, sent them all to town to be 20 bitted and taught to throw their legs well and move all together, before I pretended to cross the country and wait upon her. As soon as I thought my retinue suit- able to the character of my fortune and youth, I set out from hence to make my addi-esses. The particular skill 35, of this lady has ever been to inflame your wishes and yet command respect. To make her mistress of this art, she has a gTcater share of knowledge, wit, and good sense than is usual even among men of merit. Then she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If you SIR ROGER IN LOVE 115 won't let her go on with a certain artifice with her eyes, and the skill of beauty, she will arm herself with her real charms, and strike you with admiration instead of desire. It is certain that, if you were to behold the 5 whole woman, there is that dignity in her aspect, that compos m-e in her motion, that complacency in her manner, that if her form makes you hope, her merit makes you fear. But then again, she is such a desper- ate* scholar that no country gentleman can approach her io without being a jest. As I was going to tell you, when I came to her house I was admitted to her presence with great civility; at the same time she placed herself to be first seen by me in such an attitude, as I think you call the posture of a picture, that she discovered new charms, 15 and I at last came towards her with such an awe as made me speechless. This she no sooner observed but she made her advantage of it, and began a discourse to me concerning love and honor, as they both are followed by pretenders, and the real votaries to them. When she had discussed these points in a discourse which I verily believe was as learned as the best philosopher in Europe could possibly make, she asked me whether she was so happy as to fall in with my sentiments on these important particulars. Her confidante sat by her, and, 5 upon my being in the last confusion and silence, this malicious aide of hers, turning to her, says, 'I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses upon this subject, and seems resolved to deliver all his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases to speak.' They both kept their countenances, and after I had sat half an hour medi- 116 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS tating how to behave before such profound casuists, I rose up and took my leave. Chance has since that time thrown me very often in her way, and she as often has directed a discourse to me which I do not understand. I This barbarity has kept me ever at a distance from the 5 most beautiful object my eyes ever beheld. It is thus also she deals wdth all mankind, and you must make love to her, as you would conquer the sphinx, by posing her. But were she like other women, and that there were any talking to her, how constant must the pleasure ic of that man be who could converse with a creature — But, after all, you may be sure her heart is fixed on some one or other; and yet I have been credibly informed — but who can believe half that is said? After she had done speaking to me, she put her hand to her i£ bosom and adjusted her tucker. Then she cast her eyes a little down, upon my beholding her too earnestly. They say she sings excellently : Her voice in her ordinary speech has something in it inexpressibly sweet. You must know I dined with her at a public table the day 2C after I first saw her, and she helped me to some tansy in the eye of all the gentlemen in the country : She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. I can assure you, sir, were you to behold her you would be in the same* condition, for as her speech is music her 2£ form is angelic. But I find I grow irregular while I am talking of her ; but indeed it would be stupidity to be unconcerned at such perfection. Oh, the excellent creature! she is as inimitable to all women as she is inaccessible to all men." 3C SIR ROGER IN LOVE 117 I found my friend begin to rave and insensibly led him towards the house that we might be joined by some other company; and am convinced that the widow is the secret cause of all that inconsistency which appears in 5 some parts of my friend's discourse ; though he has so much command of himself as not directly to mention her, yet according to that* of Martial which one knows not how to render in English, ^^Dum tacet lianc loquitur.'*'' I shall end this paper with that whole epigram which 10 represents with much humor my honest friend's condi* tion. Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est nisi Naevia Rufo; Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur : Cenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit — una est 15 Naevia , si non sit Naevia, mutus erit. Scriberet liesterna patri cum luce salutem, "Naevia lux," inquit, "Naevia lumen, ave." Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk, Still he can nothing but of Naevia talk ; 20 Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute, Still he must speak of Naevia or be mute ; He writ to his father, ending with this line, — *'I am, my lovely Naevia, ever thine." R. XIII THE COVERLEY ECONOMY [No. 114. — Steele. Wednesday, July 11.] Paupertatis pudor et fuga ,^ — Horace. Economy in our affairs has the same effect upon our fortunes which good breeding has upon our conversa- tions. There is a pretending behavior in both cases which instead of making men esteemed renders them both miserable and contemptible. We had yesterday at Sir Roger's a set of country gentlemen who dined with him ; and after dinner the glass was taken by those who pleased pretty plentifully. Among others I observed a person of a tolerable -good aspect who seemed to be more greedy of liquor than any of the company, and yet, methought, he did not taste it with delight. As he grew warm, he was suspicious of everything that was said; and as he advanced towards being fuddled, his humor grew worse. At the same time his bitterness seemed to be rather an inward dissatisfaction in his own mind than any dislike he had taken to the company. Upon hearing his name, I knew him to be a gentleman of a considerable fortune in this county, but greatly in * The shame and dread of poverty. 118 THE COVERLEY ECONOMY 119 debt. What gives the unhappy man this peevishness of spirit is, that his estate is dipped, and is eating out with usury ; and yet he has not the heart to sell any part of it. His proud stomach, at the cost of restless nights, 5 constant inquietudes, danger of affronts, and a thousand nameless inconveniences, preserves this canker in his fortune, rather than it shall be said he is a man of fewer hundreds a year than he has been commonly reputed. Thus he endures the torment of poverty, to avoid the 10 name of being less rich. If you go to his liouse you see gi'eat plenty, but served in a manner that shows it is all unnatural, and that the master's mind is not at home. There is a certain waste and carelessness in the air of everything, and the whole appears but a covered indi- 15 gence, a magnificent poverty. That neatness and cheer- fulness which attends the table of him who lives within compass is wanting, and exchanged for a libertine way of service in all about him. This gentleman's conduct, though a very common way 20 of management, is as ridiculous as that officer's would be who had but few men under his command, and should take the charge of an extent of country rather than of a small pass. To pay for, personate, and keep in a man's hands a greater estate than he really has, is of all others* 25 the most unpardonable vanity, and must in the end reduce the man who is guilty of it to dishonor. Yet, if we look round us in any county of Great Britain, we shall see many in this fatal error ; if that may be called by so soft a name which proceeds from a false shame of to appearing what they really are, when the contrary 120 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS behavior would in a short time advance them to the con- dition which they pretend to. Laertes has fifteen hundred pounds a year, which is mortgaged for six thousand pounds ; but it is impossible to convince him that if he sold as much as would pay off 5 that debt he would save four* shillings in the pound, which he gives for the vanity of being the reputed master of it.^ Yet, if Laertes did this, he would perhaps be easier in his own fortune; but then, Irus, a fellow of yesterday, who has but twelve hundi'cd a year, would be lO) his equal. Eather than this shall be, Laertes goes on to bring well-born beggars into the world, and every twelve- month charges his estate with at least one year's rent more by the birth of a child. Laertes and Irus are neighbors, whose way of living is; are an abomination to each other. Lus is moved by the fear of poverty, and Laertes by the shame of it. Though the motive of action is of so near affinity in both, and may be resolved into this, '*That to each of them poverty is the greatest of all evils, "yet are their manners 20 very widely different. Shame of poverty makes Laertes launch into unnecessary equipage, vain expense, and lavish entertainments ; fear of poverty makes Irus allow himself only plain necessaries, appear without a servant, sell his own corn, attend his laborers, and be himself a 25 laborer. Shame of poverty makes Laertes go every day a step nearer to it, and fear of poverty stks up Irus to make every day some further progress from it. These different motives produce the excesses which ^ Of as much land as would pay off that debt. THE COVERLEY ECONOMY 121 men are guilty of in the negligence of and provision for themselyes. Usury, stock- jobbing, extortion, and oppression have their seed in the dread of want; and vanity, riot, and prodigality, from the shame of it : But 8 both these excesses are infinitely below the pursuit of a reasonable creature. After we have taken care to com- mand so much as is necessary for maintaining om-selves in the order of men suitable to our character, the care of superfluities is a vice no less extravagant than the neglect io of necessaries would have been before. Certain it is that they are both out* of Nature when she is followed with Eeason and Good Sense. It is from this reflection that I always read Mr. Cowley with the gi'eatest pleasure: His magnanimity is as much above 15 that of other considerable men, as his understanding; and it is a true distinguishing spirit in the elegant author who published his works to dwell so much upon the temper of his mind and the moderation of his desires : By this means he has rendered his friend as amiable as 80 famous. That state of life which bears, the face of poverty with Mr. Cowley's "great vulgar,"* is admirably described ; and it is no small satisfaction to those of the same turn of deshe, that he produces the authority of the wisest men of the best age of the world, to strengthen 25 his opinion of the ordinary pursuits of mankind. It would, methinks, be no ill maxim of life, if, according to that ancestor of Sir Roger whom I lately mentioned, every man would point to himself what sum he would resolve not to exceed. He might by this 30 means cheat himself into a tranquillity on this side of that 123 R0(31ER DE COVERLEY PAPERS expectation, or convert what he should get above it to nobler uses than his own pleasures or necessities. This temper of mind would exempt a man from an ignorant envy of restless men above him, and a more inexcusable contempt of happy men below him. This would be sailing by some compass, living with some design; but to be eternally bewildered in prospects of future gain, and putting on unnecessary armor against improbable blows of fortune, is a mechanic being, which has not good sense for its direction, but is carried on by ic a sort of acquired instinct towards things below our con- sideration and unworthy our esteem. It is possible that the tranquillity I now enjoy at Sir Roger's may have created in me this way of thinking, vvhicli is so abstracted from the common relish of the is wojldj but, as I am now in a pleasing arbor, surrounded with a beautiful landscape, I find no inclination so strong as to continue in these mansions, so remote from the ostentatious scenes of life; and am, at this present writing, philosopher enough to conclude, with Mr. 3C Cowley, — If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat. With any wish so mean as to be great, Continue, Heav'n, still from me to remove The humble blessings of that life I love. T. XIV Sm ROGER AND THE HUNT [No. 115 — Addison. Thursday, July 1^.] XJt sit mens sana in corpore sano.^ — Juvenal. Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a man submits to for his livelihood, or that which he undergoes for his pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the name of labor for that of exercise, but differs only 6 from ordinary labor as it rises from another motive. A country life abounds in both these kinds of labor, and for that reason gives a man a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfect enjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. I consider the body as a 10 system of tubes and glands, or, to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner as to make a proper engine* for the soul to work with. This description does not only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, jg veins, nerves, and arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, which is a composition of fibres that are so many imperceptible tubes or pipes, interwoven on all sides with invisible glands or strainers. * That there may be a sound mind in a sound body. 133 124 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS This general idea of a human body, without consider- ing it in its niceties of anatomy, lets us see how absolutely necessary labor is for the right preservation of it. There must be frequent motions and agitations, to mix, digest, and separate the juices contained in it, as well as to clear and cleanse that infinitude of pipes and strainers of which it is composed, and to give their solid jDarts a more firm and lasting tone. Labor or exercise ferments the humors, casts them into their proper channels, throws off redundancies, and helps nature in those secret 10( distributions, without which the body cannot subsist in its vigor, nor the soul act with cheerfulness. I might here mention the effects which this has upon all the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understand- ing clear, the imagination untroubled, and refining those I5i spirits that are necessary for the proper exertion of our intellectual faculties, during the present* laws of union between soul and body. It is to a neglect in this par- ticular that we must ascribe the spleen which is so fre- quent in men of studious and sedentary tempers, as well 20( as the vapors to which those of the other sex are so often mbject. Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our tvell-being, nature would not have made the body so proper for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily produce those compressions, extensions, contortions, dilations, and all other kinds of motions that are necessary for the preser- vation of such a system of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. And that we might not want induce- SIR ROGER AND THE HUNT 125 ments to engage us in such an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it is so ordered that nothing valu- able can be procured without it. Not to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment are not to be come at 5 without the toil of the hands and sweat of the brows. Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored before it gives its increase ; and when it is forced into its several products, how many hands must they 10 pass through before they are fit for use ! Manufactures, trade, and agriculture naturally employ more than nine- teen parts of the sptcies in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labor, by the condition in which they are born, they are more miserable than the rest of man- is kind unless they indulge themselves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name of exercise. My friend Sir Roger has been an indefatigable man in business of this kind, and has hung several parts of his house with the trophies of his former labors. The walls 20 of his great hall are covered with the horns of several kinds of deer that he has killed in the chase, which he thinks the most valuable furniture of his house, as they afford him frequent topics of discourse, and show that he has not been idle. At the lower end of the hall is a 25 large otter's skin stuffed with hay, which his mother ordered to be hung up in that manner, and the knight looks upon with great satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine years old when his dog killed him. A little room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenal filled 30 with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which the 126 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS knight has made great havoc in the woods, and destroyed many thousands of pheasants, partridges, and woodcocks. His stable doors are patched with noses that belonged to foxes of the knight's own hunting down. Sir Roger showed me one of them, that for distinction sake has a i brass nail struck through it, which cost him about fif- teen hours' riding, carried him through half a dozen counties, killed him a brace of geldings, and lost above half his dogs. This the knight looks upon as one of the greatest exploits of his life. The perverse widow whom lO I have given some account of was the death of several foxes ; for Sir Roger has told me that in the course of • his amours he patched the western door of his stable. Whenever the widow was cruel, the foxes were sure to pay for it. In proportion as his passion for the widow 15 abated, and old age came on, he left off fox-hunting; but a hare is not yet safe that sits witliin ten miles of his house. There is no kind of exercise which I would so recom- mend to my readers of both sexes as this of riding, as 20 there is none which so much conduces to health, and is every way accommodated to the body, according to the idea which I have given of it. Dr. Sydenham is very lavish in his praises ; and if the English reader would see the mechanical effects of it described at length, he may 25 find them in a book published not many years since, under the title of "Medicina Gymnastica." For my own part, when I am in town, for want of these op]')ortunities I exercise myself an hour every morning upon a dumb bell that is placed in a corner of my room, 30 SIR ROGER AND THE HUNT 127 and pleases me the more because it does everything I require of it in the most profound silence. My landlady and her daughters are so well acquainted with my hours of exercise, that they never come into my room to dis- i turb me whilst I am ringing.* When I was some years younger than T am at present, I used to employ myself in a more laborious diversion, which I learned from a Latin treatise of exercises that is written with great erudition. It is there called the 10 oKio^axia, or the fighting with a man's own shadow, and consists in the brandishing of two short sticks grasped in each hand, and loaden with plugs of lead at I either end. This opens the chest, exercises the limbs, and gives a man all the pleasure of boxing, without the blows. I could wish that several learned men would lay out that time which they employ in controversies and disputes about nothing, in this method of fighting with their own shadows. It might conduce very much to evaporate the spleen, which makes them uneasy to the public as well as to themselves. To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I consider myself as obliged to a double scheme of duties, and I think I have not fulfilled the business of the day when I do not thus employ the one^ in labor and exer- 5 cise, as well as the other in study and contemplation. L. » The body. XV THE HUNTING FIELD [No. I16.—Budgell. Friday, July IS.] Vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron Taygetique canes .* — Virgil. Those who have searched into human nature, observe that nothing so much shows the nobleness of the soul as that its felicity consists in action. Every man has such an active principle in him that he will find out some- thing to employ himself upon, in whatever place or state of life he is posted. I have heard of a gentleman who was under close confinement in the Bastile seven years ; during which time he amused himself in scattering a few small pins about his chamber, gathering them up again, and placing them in different figures on the arm of a great chair. He often told his friends afterwards, that unless he had found out this piece of exercise, he verily believed he should have lost his senses. After what has been said, I need not inform my read- ers that Sir Roger, with whose character I hope they are 15 at present pretty well acquainted, has in his youth gone through the whole course of those rural diversions which ^Cithaeron calls with a great clamor, and the dogs of Taygetus. 128 THE HUNTING FIELD 129 the country abounds in, and which seem to be extremely well suited to that laborious industry a man may observe here in a far greater degree than in towns and cities. I have before hinted at some of my friend's exploits : He 5 has in his youthful days taken forty coveys of partridges in a season, and tired many a salmon with a line consist- ing but of a single hair. The constant thanks and good wishes of the neighborhood always attended him on account of his remarkable enmity towards foxes ; having* 10 destroyed more of those vermin* in one year that it was thought the whole country could have produced. Indeed, the knight does not scruple to own, among his most intimate friends, that, in order to establish his reputation this way, he has secretly sent for gi-eat num- 15 bers of them out of other counties, which he used to turn loose about the country by night, that he might the better signalize himself in their destruction the next day. His hunting horses were the finest and best managed in all these parts : his tenants are still full of the praises of 20 a gray stone-horse, that unhappily staked himself several years since, and was buried with gi'eat solemnity in the orchard. Sir Roger, being at present too old for fox-hunting, to keep himself in action has disposed of his beagles and 25 got a pack of stop-hounds. What these want in speed he endeavors to make amends for by the deepness of their mouths and the variety of their notes, which are suited in such manner to each other that the whole cry makes up a complete concert. He is so nice in this par- 30 ticular that a gentleman having made him a present of a 130 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS very fine hound the other day, the knight returned it by the servant with a great many expressions of civility, but desired him to tell his master that the dog he had sent was indeed a most excellent bass, but that at present he only wanted a counter-tenor. Could I believe my friend 5 had ever read Shakespeare, I should certainly conclude he had taken the hint from Theseus, in the * 'Midsummer Night's Dream:" My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung M With ears that sweep away the morning dew: Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match' d in mouths, like bells, Each under each : A cry more tuneable Was never holla' d to, nor cheer'd with horn. U Sir Roger is so keen at this sport that he has been out almost every day since I came down; and upon the chap- lain's oHering to lend me his easy pad, I was prevailed on yesterday morning to make one of the company. I was extremely pleased, as we rid along, to observe the 21 general benevolence of all the neighborhood towards my friend. The farmers' sons thought themselves happy if they could open a gate for the good old knight as he passed by; which he generally requited with a nod or a smile, and a kind inquiry after their fathers and uncles. After we had rid about a mile from home, we came upon a large heath, and the sportsmen began to beat. They had done so for some time, when, as I was at a little distance from the rest of the company, I saw a hare pop out from a small furze-brake almost under my THE HUNTING FIELD 131 horse's feet. I marked the way she took, which I endeavored to make the company sensible of by extend- ing my arm; but to no purpose, till Sir Eoger, who knows that none of my extraordinary motions are insig- 5 nificant, rode up to me, and asked me if puss was gone that way. Upon my answering "Yes," he immediately called in the dogs and put them upon the scent. As they were going off, I heard one of the country fellows muttering to his companion that 'twas a wonder they 16 had not lost all their sport, for want of the silent gentle- man's crying, *' Stole aAvay!" This, with my aversion to leaping hedges, made me withdraw to a rising ground, from whence I could have the picture of the whole chase, without the fatigue of 15 keeping in with the hounds. The hare immediately threw them above a mile behind her ; but I was pleased to find that instead of running straight forwards, or, in hunter's language, *' flying the country," as I was afraid she might have done, she wheeled about, and described 20 a sort of circle round the hill where I had taken my station, in such manner as gave me a very distinct view of the sport. I could see her first pass by, and the dogs som.e time afterwards unravelling the whole track she had made, and following her through all her doubles, 25 I was at the same time delighted in observing that defer- ence which the rest of the pack paid to each particular hound, according to the character he had acquired amongst them : If they were at fault, and an old hound of reputation opened but once, he was immediately 30 followed by the whole cry; while a raw dog, or one who 132 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS was a noted liar, might have yelped his heart out, with- out being taken notice of. The hare now, after having squatted two or three times, and been put up again as often, came still nearer to the place where she was at first started. The dogs 5 pursued her, and these were followed by the jolly knight, who rode upon a white gelding, encompassed by his tenants and servants, and cheering his hounds with ail the gaiety of five-and-twenty. One of the sportsmen rode up to me, and told me that he was sure the chase 19 was almost at an end, because the old dogs, which had hitherto lain behind, now headed the pack. The fellow was in the right. Our hare took a large field just under us, followed by the full cry "in view." I must confess the brightness of the weather, the cheerfulness of every- 15 thing around me, the chiding of the hounds, which was returned upon us in a double echo from two neighbor- ing hills, Avitli the hollowing of the sportsmen, and the sounding of the horn, lifted my spirits into a most lively pleasure, which I freely indulged because I was sure it 20 was innocent. If I was under any concern, it was on the account of the poor hare, that was now quite spent, and almost within the reach of her enemies; when the huntsman, getting forward, threw down his pole before the dogs. They were now within eight yards of that 25 game which they had been pursuing for almost as many hours; yet, on the signal before mentioned, they all made a sudden stand, and though they continued open- ing as much as before, durst not once attempt to pass beyond the pole. At the same time Sir Roger rode for- 30 THE HUNTING FIELD 133 ward, and, alighting, took up the hare in his arms, which he soon after delivered to one of his servants, with an order, if she could be kept alive, to let her go in his Great Orchard, where it seems he has several of these 5 prisoners of war, who live together in a very comfortable captivity. I was highly pleased to see the discipline of the pack, and the good-nature of the knight, who could not find in his heart to murder a creature that had given him so much diversion. 10 As we were returning home I remembered that Monsieur Pascal, in his most excellent discourse on the "Misery of Man," tells us that all our endeavors after greatness proceed from nothing but a desire of being surrounded by a multitude of persons and affairs that 15 may hinder us from looking into ourselves, which is a view we cannot bear. He afterwards goes on to show that our love of sports comes from the same reason, and is particularly severe upon hunting. *'What," says he, "unless it be to drown thought, can make men throw 20 away so much time and pains upon a silly animal, which they might buy cheaper in the market?" The foregoing reflection is certainly just when a man suffers his whole mind to be drawn into his sports, and altogether loses himself in the woods ; but does not affect those who pro- 25 pose a far more laudable end from this exercise,— I mean, the preservation of health, and keeping all the organs of the soul in a condition to execute her orders. Had that incomparable person, whom I last quoted, been a little more indulgent to himself in this point, the world 30 might probably have enjoyed him much longer j whereas 134 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS through too great an application to his studies in his youth, he contracted that ill habit of body which, after a tedious sickness, carried him off in the fortieth 3'ear of his age; and the whole history we have of his life till that time, is but one continued account of the behavior 5 of a noble soul struggling under innumerable pains and distempers. For my own part, I intend to hunt twice a week dur- ing my stay with Sir Roger; and shall prescribe the moderate use of this exercise to all my country friends, lo as the best kind of physic for mending a bad constitu- tion and preserving a good one. I cannot do this better than in the following lines out of Mr. Dry den: The first physicians by debauch were made ; 15 Excess began, and sloth sustains the trade. By chase our long-lived fathers earned their food ; Toil strung the nerves, and purified the blood; But we their sons, a pamper'd race of men, Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten. 20 Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wjse for cure on exercise depend : God never made his work for man to mend. X. XVI MOLL* WHITE [Xfo 117— Addison. Saturday, July I4.] Ipsi sibi somnia fingunt.^ — Virgil. There are some opinions in which a man should stand neuter, without engaging his assent to one side or the other. Such a hovering faith as this, which refuses to settle upon any determination, is absolutely necessary in 5 a mind that is careful to avoid errors and prepossessions. When the arguments press equally on both sides, in matters that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to neither. It is with this temper of mind that I consider the sub- 10 ject of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that are made from all parts of the world, not only from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but from every particular nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that there is such an intercourse and commerce* 15 with evil spirits as that which we express by the name of witchcraft. But when I consider that the ignorant and credulous parts of the world abound most in these rela- tions, and that the persons among us who are supposed to engage in such an infernal commerce are people of a * They invent dreams for themselves. 135 136 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS weak understanding and crazed imagination, and at the same time reflect upon the many impostures and delusions of this nature that have been detected in all ages, I endeavor to suspend my belief till I hear more certain accounts than any which have yet come to my 5 knowledge. In short, when I consider the question whether there are such persons in the world as those we call witches, my mind is divided between the two oppo- site opinions; or rather (to speak my thoughts freely), I believe in general that there is, and has been, such a ifl thing as witchcraft ; but at the same time can give no credit to any particular instance of it. I am engaged in this speculation by some occurrences that I met with yesterday, which I shall give my reader an account of at large. As I was walking with my i5 friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his woods, an old woman applied herself to me for my charity. Her dress and figure put me in mind of the following description in Otway : In a close lane as I pursued my journey, 20 I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, Picking diy sticks, and mumbling to herself. Her eyes with scalding rheum were galPd and red; Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd wither'd; And on her crooked shoulders had she wrajDp'd 25 The tatter' d remnants of an old striped hanging, Which served to keep her carcase from the cold: So there was nothing of a piece about her. Her lower weeds* were all o'er coarsely patch'd With diff'rent color' d rags, black, red, white, yellow, 30 And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness. MOLL WHITE 137 As I was musing on this description, and comparing it with the object before me, the knight told me that this very old woman had the reputation of a witch all over the country, that her lips were observed to be 5 always in motion, and that there was not a switch about her house which her neighbors did not believe had carried her several hundi'edsof miles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found sticks or straws that lay in the figure of a cross before her. If she made any mis- 10 take at church, and cried Amen in a wrong place, they never failed to conclude that she was saying her prayers backwards. There was not a maid in the parish that would take a pin of her, though she would offer a bag of money with it. She goes by the name of Moll White, 15 and has made the country ring with several imaginary exploits which are palmed upon her. If the dairy maid does not make her butter come so soon as she should have it, Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a horse sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon his 20 back. If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. *'Nay," (says Sir Roger), "I have known the master of the pack, upon such an occasion, send one of his servants to see if Moll White had been out that morning." 25 This account raised my curiosity so far that I begged my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel, which stood in a solitary corner under the side of the wood. Upon our first entering. Sir Roger winked to me, and pointed at something that stood behind the door, which, 30 upon looking that way, I found to be an old broomstaff. 138 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS At the same time he whispered me in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat that sat in the chimney-corner, which, as the old knight told me, lay under as bad a report as Moll White herself; for besides that Moll is said often to accompany her in the same shape, the cat 5 is reported to have spoken twice or thrice in her life, and to have played several pranks above the capacity of an ordinary cat. I was secretly concerned to see human nature in so much wretchedness and disgi'ace, but at the same time 10 could not forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who is a little puzzled about the old woman, advising her, as a justice of peace, to avoid all communication with the devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbor's cattle. We concluded our visit with a bounty, which was very 15 acceptable. In our return home, Sir Roger told me that old Moll had been often brought before him for making children spit pins, and giving maids the nightmare; and that the country people would be tossing her into a pond and 20 trying experiments with her every day, if it was* not for him and his chaplain. I have since found, upon inquiry, that Sir Roger was several times staggered with the reports that had been brought him concerning this old woman, and would fre- 25 quently have bound her over to the county sessions had not his chaplain with much ado persuaded him to the contrary. I have been the more particular in this account because I heai' there is scarce a village in England that has not a 30 MOLL WHITE 139 Moll White in it. When an old woman begins to dote, and gi'ow chargeable to a parish, she is generally tnrned into a witch, and fills the whole country with extrava- gant fancies, imaginary distempers, and terrifying di'pams. In the mean time the jDOor wi'etch that is the innocent occasion of so many evils begins to be frighted at herself, and sometimes confesses secret commerce and familiarities that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. This frequently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of compassion, and inspires people with a malev- olence towards those poor, decrepit parts of our species in whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage. L. XVII THE WOOING [No. 118. —Steele. Monday, July 16.] Haeret lateri lethalis arundo.^ — Virgil. This agreeable seat is surrounded with so many pleasing walks, which are struck out of a wood in the midst of which the house stands, that one can hardly ever be weary of rambling from one labyrinth of delight to another. To one used to live in a city, the charms 5^ of the country are so exquisite that the mind is lost in a certain transport which raises us above ordinary life, and yet is not strong enough to be inconsistent with tran- quillity. This state of mind was I in, ravished with the murmur of waters, the whisper of breezes, the singing lo of birds; and whether I looked up to the heavens, down on the earth, or turned on the prospects around me, still struck with new sense of pleasure; when I found by the voice of my friend, who walked by me, that we had insensibly strolled into the grove sacred to the widow. i5 "This woman," says he, "is of all others the most unintelligible ; she either designs to marry, or she does not. What is the most perplexing of all is, that she ^ The deadly shaft is fixed in his side. 140 THE WOOING 14:1 doth not either* say to her lovers she has any resohicion against that condition of life in general, or that she banishes them; bnt, conscions of her own merit, she per- mits their addresses without fear of any ill consequence, 6 or want of respect, from their rage or despair. She has that in her aspect against which it is impossible to offend. A man whose thoughts are constantly bent upon so agreeable an object must be excused if the ordinary occurrences in conversation are below his atten- tion. I call her, indeed, perverse, but, alas! why do I call her so? Because her superior merit is such that I cannot approach her without awe, that my heart is checked by too much esteem; I am ahgrj that her charms are not more accessible, that I am more inclined 5 to worship than salute her : How often have I wished her unhappy that I might have an opportunity of serving her? and how often troubled in that very imagination, at giving her the pain of being obliged? Well, I have led a miserable life in secret upon her account; but !0 fancy she would have condescended to have some regard for me if it had not been for that watchful animal, her confidante. "Of all persons under the sun" (continued he, calling me by my name), "be sure to set a mark upon confi- sdantes; they are of all people the most impertinent. What is most pleasant to observe in them is that they assume to themselves the merit of the persons whom they have in their custody. Orestilla is a great fortune,* and in wonderful danger of surprises, therefore full of » suspicions of the least indifferent thing, particularly 142 EOGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS careful of new acquaintance, and of growing too familiar with the old. Tliemista, lier favorite woman, is every whit as careful of whom she speaks to and what she says. Let the ward be a beauty, her confidante shall treat you with an air of distance ; let her be a fortune, and she i assumes the suspicious behavior of her friend and patroness. Thus it is that very many of our unmarried women of distinction are to all intents and purposes married, except the consideration of different sexes. They are directly under the conduct of their whisperer, : and think they are in a state of freedom while they can prate with one of these attendants of all men in general and still avoid the man they most like. You do not see one heiress in a hundred whose fate does not turn upon this circumstance of choosing a confidante. Thus it is : that the lady is addressed to, presented, and flattered, only by proxy, in her woman. In my case, how is it possible that — " Sir Eoger was proceeding in his harangue, when we heard the voice of one speaking very importunately, and i repeating these words, "What, not one smile?" We followed the sound till we came to a close thicket, on the other side of which we saw a young woman sitting as it ! were in a personated sullenness just over a transparent fountain. Opposite to her stood Mr. William, Sir 5i Roger's master of the game. The knight whispered me, "Hist, these are lovers." The huntsman, looking earnestly at the shadow of the young maiden in the stream: "0 thou dear picture, if thou couldst remain there in the absence of that fair creature, whom you rep- i THE WOOING 143 resent in tlie water, how willingly could I stand here satisfied for ever, without troubling my dear Betty her- self with any mention of her unfortunate William, whom she is angry with : But alas ! when she pleases to be 5 gone, thou wilt also vanish — yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. Tell my clearest Betty thou dost not more depend upon her than does her William. Her absence will make away with me as well as thee. If she offers to remove thee, I'll jump into these waves to lay 10 hold on thee ; her herself, her own dear person, I must never embrace again. Still do you hear me without one smile? — it is too much to bear. ' ' He had no sooner spoke these words but he made an offer of throwing himself into the water ; at which his mistress started up, and at the 15 next instant he jumped across the fountain and met her in an embrace. She, half recovering from her fright, said in the most charming voice imaginable, and with a tone of complaint, "I thought how well you would drown yourself. No, no, you won't drown yourself till you 90 have taken your leave of Susan llolliday." The hunts- man, with a tenderness that spoke the most passionate love, and with his cheek close to hers, whispered the softest vows of fidelity in her ear, and cried, ''Don't, my dear, believe a \\^ord Kate Willow says ; she is spiteful 25 and makes stories, because she loves to hear me talk to herself for your sake." "Look you there," quoth Sir Roger, "do jou see there, all mischief comes fi'om confidantes! But let us not interrupt them; the maid is honest, and the man 30 dare not be otherwise, for he knows T loved her father : 144 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS I will interpose in this matter, and hasten the wedding. Kate Willow is a witty, mischievous wench in the neighborhood, who was a beauty ; and makes me hope I «hall see the perverse widow in her condition.^ She was so flippant with her answers to all the honest fellows 5: that came near her, and so very vain of her beauty, that she has valued herself upon her charms till they are ceased. She therefore now makes it her business to pre- vent other young women from being more discreet than she was herself: However, the saucy thing said the la other day well enough, 'Sir Roger and I must make a match, for we are both despised by those we loved;* The hussy has a great deal of power wherever she comes, and has her share of cunning. *' However, when I reflect upon this woman,* I do la not know whether in the main I am the worse for hav- ing loved her : Whenever she is recalled to my imagina- tion my youth returns, and I feel a forgotten warmth in my veins. This affliction in my life has streaked all my conduct with a softness of which I should otherwise ai have been incapable. It is perhaps, to this dear image in my heart owing, that I am apt to relent, that I easily forgive, and that many desirable things are grown into my temper which I should not have arrived at by better motives than the thought of being one day hers. I am si pretty well satisfied such a passion as I have had is never well cured ; and between you and me, I am often apt to imagine it has had some whimsical eifect upon my ^ Sir Roger implies that Kate Willow has lost her beauty and her charms. THE WOOING 145 brain : For I frequently find that in my most serious dis- course I let fall some comical familiarity of speech or odd phrase that makes the company laugh ; however, I cannot but allow she is a most excellent woman. When 5 she is in the country, I warrant she does not run into dairies, but reads upon the nature of plants; but has a glass hive, and comes into the garden out of books to see them work, and observe the policies of their common- wealth. She understands everything. I'd give ten 10 pounds to hear her argue with my friend Sir Andrew Freeport about trade. No, no; for all she looks so innocent, as it were, take my word for it she is no fool." T. XVIII THE POLITE WORLD [No, 119.— Addison. Tuesday, July 17.] Urbem quam dicunt Roiiiam, Meliboee, putavi Stultiis ego huic nostrae similem .' — Virgil The first and most obvious reflections wliich arise in a man who changes the city for the country, are upon the different manners of the people whom he meets with in those two different scenes of life. By manners I do not mean morals, but behavior and good breeding as they show themselves in the town and in the country. And here, in the first place, I must observe a very great revolution that has happened in this article of good breeding. Several obliging deferences, condescensions, and submissions, with many outward forms and cere- monies that accompany them, were first of all brought up among the politer part of mankind, who lived in courts and cities, and distinguished themselves from the rustic i^art of the species (who on all occasions acted bluntly and naturally) by such a mutual complaisance and intercourse of civilities. These forms of conversa- tion by degrees multiplied and grew troublesome; the ^ The city, Meliboeus, that men call Rome, I foolishly- thought like this place of ours. 146 THE POLITE WORLD 147 modish Avorld found too great a constraint in them, and have therefore thrown most of them aside. Conversa- tion, like the Romish religion, was so encumbered with show and ceremony that it stood in need of a reforma- 6 tion to retrench its superfluities, and restore it to its natural good sense and beauty. At present, therefore, an unconstrained carriage, and a certain openness of behavior are the height of good breeding. The fashion- able world is grown free and easy ; our manners sit more 10 loose upon us : Nothing is so modish as an agreeable negligence. In a word, good breeding shows itself most where, to an ordinary eye, it appears the least. If after this we look on the people of mode in the country, we find in them the manners of the last age. 15 They have no sooner fetched themselves up to the fash- ion of the polite world but the town has dropped them, and are nearer to the fii'st state of nature than to those refinements which formerly reigned in the court and still prevail in the country. One may now know a man that 20 never conversed* in the world by his excess of good breeding. A polite country squire shall* make you as many bows in half an hour as would serve a courtier for a week. There is infinitely more to do about place and precedency in a meeting of justices' wives than in an 25 assembly of duchesses. This rural politeness is very troublesome to a man of my temper, who generally take the chair that is next me, and walk first or last, in the front or in the rear, as chance directs. I have known my friend Sir Roger's 50 dinner almost cold before the company could adjust the 148 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS ceremonial, and be prevailed upon to sit down; and have heartily pitied my old friend, Avhen I have seen him forced to pick and cull his guests, as they sat at the sev- eral parts of his table, that he might drink their healths according to their respective ranks and qualities. Hon- est Will Wimble, who I should have thought had been altogether uninfected with ceremony, gives me abun- dance of trouble in this particular. Though he has been fishing all the morning, he will not help himself at dinner till I am served. When we are going out of the i hall, he runs behind me; and last night, as we were walking in the fields, stopped short at a stile till I came up to it, and upon my making signs to him to get over, told me, with a serious smile, that, sure, I believed they had no manners in the country. There has happened another revolution in the point of good breeding, which relates to the conversation among men of mode, and which I cannot but look upon as very extraordinary. It was certainly one of the first dis- tinctions of a well-bred man to express everything that had the most remote appearance of being obscene in modest terms and distant phrases; whilst the clown, who had no such delicacy of conception and expression, clothed his ideas in those plain, homely terms that are the most obvious and natural. This kind of good man- ners was perhaps carried to an excess, so as to make con- versation too stiff, formal, and precise; for which reason (as hypocrisy in one age is generally succeeded by atheism in another) conversation is* in a great measure relapsed into the first extreme ; so that at present several THE POLITE WORLD 149 of our men of the town, and particularly those who have been polished in France, make use of the most coarse, uncivilized words in our language, and utter themselves often in such a manner as a clown would blush to hear. This infamous piece of good breeding which reigns among the coxcombs of the town has not yet made its way into the country ; and as it is impossible for such an irrational way of conversation to last long among a people that make any profession of religion, or show of » modesty, -if the country gentlemen get into it they will certainly be left in the lurch. Their good breeding will come too late to them, and they will be thought a parcel of lewd clowns, while they fancy themselves talking together like men of wit and pleasure. As the two points of good breeding which I have hitherto insisted upon regard behavior and conversation, there is a third which turns upon dress. In this, too, the country are very much behindhand. The rural beaus are not yet got out of the fashion that took place > at the time of the Revolution, but ride about the country in red coats and laced hats, while the women in many parts are still trying to outvie one another in the height of their head-dresses. But a friend of mine, who is now upon the western circuit, having promised to give me an account of the several modes and fashions that prevail in the different parts of the nation through which he passes, I shall defer the enlarging upon this last topic till I have received a letter from him, which I expect every post. L. XIX THE COVERLEY POULTRY [No. 120.— Addison. Wednesday, July 18.] — — Equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis Ingenium^ . Jovis omnia plena. ^ — Virgil. My friend Sir Eoger is very often merry with me upon my passing so much of my time among his poultry. He has caught me twice or thrice looking after a bird's nest, and several times sitting an hour or two together near an hen and chickens. He tells me he believes I am personally acquainted with every fowl about his house, calls such a particular cock my favorite, and frequently complains that his ducks and geese have more of my company than himself. I must confess I am infinitely delighted with those lo^l speculations of nature which are to be made in a coun- try life ; and as my reading has very much lain among books of natural history, I cannot forbear recollecting upon this occasion the several remarks which I have met with in authors, and comparing them with what falls 13' under my own observation : the arguments for Provi- * Indeed, I believe it because they have skill from the gods. * All things are full of Jove. 150 THE COVERLEY POULTRY 151 dence drawn from the natural history of animals being, in my opinion, demonstrative. The make of every kind of animal is different from that of every other kind; and yet there is not the least tm-n in the muscles or twist in the fibres of any one which does not render them more proper for that particular animaPs way of life than any other cast or texture of them would have been. . . . It is astonishing to consider the different degrees of 10 care that descend from the parent to the young, so far as is absolutely necessary for the leaving a posterity. Some creatures cast their eggs as chance directs them, and think of them no farther, as insects and several kinds of fish; others, of a nicer frame, find out proper beds to 15 deposit them in, and there leave them, as the serpent, the crocodile, and ostrich ; others hatch their eggs and tend the birth till it is able to shift for itself. What can we call the principle which directs every different kind of bird to observe a particular plan in the 20 structure of its nest, and directs all of the same species to work after the same model? It cannot be imitation ; for though you hatch a crow under a hen, and never let it see any of the works of its own kiud, the nest it makes shall be the same, to the la3nng of a stick, with 25 all the other nests of the same species. It cannot be reason; for were animals indued with it to as great a degree as man, their buildings would be as different as ours, according to the different conveniencies that they would propose to themselves. 30 Is it not remarkable that the same temper of weather 152 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS which raises this genial warmth in animals should cover the trees with leaves, and the fields with grass, for their security and concealment, and produce such infinite swarms of insects for the support and sustenance of their respective broods? Is it not wonderful that the love of the parent should be so violent while it lasts, and that it should last no longer than is necessary for the preservation of the young? . . . But notwithstanding this natural love in brutes is loi much more violent and intense than in rational creatures, Providence has taken care that it should be no longer troublesome to the parent than it is useful to the young ; for so soon as the wants of the latter cease, the mother withdraws her fondness, and leaves them to provide for is^ themselves : And what is a very remarkable circumstance in this part of instinct, we find that the love of the par- ent may be lengthened out beyond its usual time, if the preservation of the species requires it, as we may see in birds that drive away their young as soon as they are 20 able to get their livelihood, but continue to feed them if they are tied to the nest, or confined within a cage, or by any other means appear to be out of a condition of supplying their own necessities. This natural love is not observed in animals to ascend 25 from the young to the parent, which is not at all neces- sary for the continuance of the species : Nor indeed in reasonable creatures does it rise in any proportion, as it spreads itself downward; for in all family affection, we find protection granted and favors bestowed, are greater 30 THE COVERLEY POULTRY 153 motives to love and tenderness, than safety, benefits, or life received. One wonld wonder to hear sceptical men disputing for the reason of animals, and telling ns it is only our pride 5 and prejudices that will not allow them the use of that faculty. Reason shows itself in all occurrences of life ; whereas the brute makes no discovery of such a talent, but in what immediately regards his own preservation or the 10 continuance of his species. Animals in their generation are wiser than the sons of men, but their wisdom is con- fined to a few particulars, and lies in a very narrow compass. Take a brute out of his instinct, and you find him wholly deprived of understanding. To use an 15 instance that comes often under observation : With what caution does the hen provide herself a nesb in places unfrequented, and free from noise and disturb- ance! When she has laid her eggs in such a manner that she can cover them, what care does she take in 20 turning them frequently, that all parts may partake of the vital warmth! When she leaves them, to provide for her necessary sustenance, how punctually does she return before they have time to cool and become incapa- ble of producing an animal! In the summer you see 25 her giving herself greater freedoms, and quitting her care for above two hours together, but in winter, when the rigor of the season would chill the principles of life and destroy the young one, she grows more assiduous in her attendance, and stays away but half the time. JO When the birth approaches, with how much nicety and 154 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS attention does she help the chick to break its prison! not to take notice of her covering it from the injuries of tlie weather, providing it proper nourishment, and teach- ing it to help itself ; nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if after the usual time of reckoning the young one 5 does not make its appearance. A chj^mical operation could not be followed with greater art or diligence than is seen in the hatching of a chick; though there are many other birds that show an infinitely greater sagacity in all the forementioned particulars. lo But at the same time the hen, that has all this seeming ingenuity (which is indeed absolutely necessary for the proi3agation of the species), considered in other respects, is without the least glimmerings of thought or common- sense. She mistakes a j^iece of chalk for an egg, and 15 sits upon it in the same manner : She is insensible of any increase or diminution in the number of those she lays ; she does not distinguish between her own and those of another species ; and when the birth appears of never so different a bird, will cherish it for her own. In all these 20 circumstances which do not carry an immediate regard to the subsistence of herself or her species, she is a very idiot. There is not, in my opiiiiou, anything more mysterious in nature than this instinct in animals, which thus 35 rises above reason, and falls infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted for by any properties in matter, and at the same time works after so odd a manner that one cannot think it the faculty of an intellectual being. For my o'n n part, I look upon it as upon the principle of so THE COVERLEY POULTRY 155 gi'avitation in bodies, which is not to be explained by any known qualities inherent in the bodies themselves, nor from any laws of mechanism, but, according to the best notions of the greatest philosophers, is an immediate impression from the first Mover and the divine Energy acting in the creatures. L. XX SIR ROGER AT THE ASSIZES [No. 122.— Addison. Friday, July 20.] Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est.* — Piiblius Syrus. A man's first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own heart; his next, to escape the censures of the world. If the last interferes with the former, it ought to be entirely neglected ; but otherwise there cannot be a gi'eater satisfaction to an honest mind than to see those 5 approbations which it gives itself seconded by the applauses of the public. A man is more sure of his conduct when the verdict which he passes upon his own behavior is thus warranted and confu-med by the opinion of all that know him. 10 My worthy friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at peace within himself but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives a suitable tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind in the returns of affection and good-will which are paid him by every one 15 that lives within his neighborhood. I lately met with two or three odd instances of that general respect which is shown to the good old knight. He would needs carry Will Wimble and myself with him to the county assizes. As we were upon the road, Will Wimble joined a couple 20 * Pleasant company on the way is as good as a carriage. 156 SIR ROGER AT THE ASSIZES 157 of plain men who rid before us, and conversed with them for some time; during which my friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their characters. "The first of them," says he, "that has a spaniel by 5 his side, is a yeoman of about an hundred pounds a year, an honest man : He is just within the Game Act, and qualified to kill an hare or a pheasant. He knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week ; and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have to not so good an estate as himself. He would be a good neighbor if he did not destroy so many partridges : in short, he is a very sensible man. shoots flying, and has been several times foreman of the petty jury. "The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, 15 a fellow famous for taking the law of everybody. There is not one in the town where he lives that he has not sued at a quarter sessions. The rogue had once the impudence to go to law with the widow. His head is full of costs, damages, and ejectments: He plagued a couple of 20 honest gentlemen so* long for a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, till he was forced to sell the ground it enclosed to defray the charges of the prosecution : His father left him fourscore pounds a year, but he has cast and been cast so often that he is not now worth thirty. 25 I suppose he is going upon the old business of the willow tree."^ As Sir Roger was giving me this account of Tom Touchy,Will Wimble and his two companions stopped ^ Old to Sir Roger, but probably never before mentioned to the Spectator. 158 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS short till we came up to them. After having paid their respects to Sir Roger, Will told him that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal to him upon a dispute that arose between them. Will, it seems, had been giving his fellow-traveller an account of his angling one day in such a hole ; when s Tom Touchy, instead of hearing out his story, told him that Mr. Such an one, if he pleased, might take the law of him for fishing in that part of the river. My friend Sir Roger heard them both, upon a round trot; and, after having paused some time, told them, with lo^ the air of a man who would not give his judgment rashly, that much might be said on both sides. They were neither of them dissatisfied with the knight's determination, because neither of them found himself in the wrong by it. Upon which we made the best of our i5i way to the assizes. The court was sat before Sir Roger came; but not- withstanding all the justices had taken their places upon the bench, they made room for the old knight at the head of them; who, for his reputation in the country, 20 took occasion to whisper in the judge's ear that he was glad his lordship had met with so much good weather in his circuit. I was listening to the proceeding of the court with much attention, and infinitely pleased with that great appearance and solemnity which so properly 25' accompanies such a public administration of our laws, when, after about an hour s sitting, I observed to my great surprise, in the midst of a trial, that my friend Sir Koger was getting up to speak. I was in some pain for him, till I found he had acquitted himself of two or three 30 SIR ROGER AT THE ASSIZES 159 sentences, witli a look of much business and great intrepidity. Upon his first rising the court was hushed, and a general whisper ran among the country people that Sir 5 Roger was up. The speech he made was so little to the purpose that I shall not trouble my readers with an account of it ; and I believe was not so much designed by the knight himself to inform the court, as to give him a figure in my eye, and keep up his credit in the country. 10 I was highly delighted, when the court rose, to see the gentlemen of the country gathering about my old friend, and striving who should compliment him most ; at the same time that the ordinary people gazed upon him at a distance, not a little admiring his courage, that 15 was not afraid to speak to the judge. In our return home we met with a very odd accident, which I cannot forbear relating, because it shows how desirous all who know Sir Roger are of giving him marks of their esteem. When we were arrived upon the £0 verge of his estate, we stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The man of the house had, it seems, been formerly a servant in the knight's family; and, to do honor to his old master, had some time since, unknown to Sir Roger, pnt him up in a '^5 sign-post before the door ; so that the knight's head had hung out upon the road about a week before he himself knew anything of the matter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquainted with it, finding that his servant's indiscretion proceeded wholly from aifection and good ^0 will, he only told him that he had made him too high a 160 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS compliment ; and when the fellow seemed to think that could hardly be, added, with a more decisive look, that it was too great an honor for any man under a duke ; but told him at the same time that it might be altered with a very few touches, and that he himself would be 5 at the charge of it. Accordingly they got a painter, by the knight's directions, to add a pair of whiskers to the face, and by a little aggravation to the features to change it into the Saracen's Head. T should not have known this story had not the innkeeper, upon Sir Soger's lOi alighting, told him in my hearing that his honor's head was brought back last night with the alterations that he had ordered to be made in it. Upon this, my friend, with his usual cheerfulness, related the particulars above mentioned, and ordered the head to be brought into the is room. I could not forbear discovering* gi'eater expres- sions of mirth than ordinary upon the appearance of this monstrous face, under which, notwithstanding it was made to frown and stare in a most extraordinary manner, I could still discover a distant resemblance of my old so friend. Sir Roger, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I thought it possible for people to know him in that disguise. I at first kept my usual silence; but upon the knight's conjuring me to tell him whether it was not still more like himself than a Saracen, I composed my countenance in the best manner I could, and replied that much might be said on both sides. These several adventures, with the knight's behavior in them, gave me as pleasant a day as ever I met with in any of my travels. L. XXI FLORIO AND LEONILLA [No. 123. — Addison. Saturday, July 21.1 Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam Rectique cultus pectora roborant ; Utcunque defecere mores, Dedecorant bene nata ciilpae.^ — Horace. As I was yesterday taking the air with my friend Sir Roger, we were met by a fresh -colored, ruddy young man, who rid by us full speed, with a couple of servants behind him. Upon my inquiry who he was. Sir Roger 5 told me that he was a young gentleman of a considerable estate, who had been educated by a tender mother that lived not many miles from the place where we were. She is a very good lady, says my friend, but took so much care of her son*s health that she has made him good for 10 nothing. She quickly found that reading was bad for his eyes, and that writing made his head ache. He was ^ Instruction a new force imparts To faculties inherited, And, well directed, strengthens hearts In virtue's ways and valor's tread; But when bad morals bring bad fame, Good birth but aggravates the shame. — Sargent. 161 162 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS let loose among the woods as soon as he was able to ride on horseback, or to carry a gun upon his shoulder. To be brief, I found by my friend's account of him, that he had got a great stock of health, but nothing else ; and that, if it were a man's business only to live, 5 there would not be a more accomplished young fellow in the whole county. The truth of it is, since my residing in these parts I have seen and heard innumerable instances of young heirs and elder brothers who — either from their own reflecting io( upon the estates they are born to, and therefore thinking all other accomplishments unnecessary, or from hearing these notions frequently inculcated to them by the flattery of their servants and domestics, or from the same foolish thought prevailing in those who have the care of la their education — are of no manner of use but to keep up their families, and transmit their lands and houses in a line to posterity. This makes me often think on a story 1 have heard of two friends, which I shall give my reader at large under soj feigned names. The moral of it may, I hope, be useful, though there are some circumstances which make it rather appear like a novel* than a true story. Eudoxus and Leontine began the world with small estates. They were both of them men of good sense and 25j great virtue. They prosecuted their studies together in their earlier years, and entered into such a friendship as lasted to the end of their lives. Eudoxus, at his first setting out in the world, threw himself into a court, where by his natural endowments and his acquired FLORIO AND LEONILLA 163 abilities lie made his way from one post to another, till at length he had raised a very considerable fortune. Leon- tine, on the contrary, sought all opportunities of improv- ing his mind by study, conversation, and travel. He was not only acquainted with all the sciences, but with the most eminent professors of them throughout Europe. He knew perfectly well the interests of its princes, with the cnstoms and fashions of their courts, and could scarce meet with the name of an extraordinary person in 10 the Gazette whom he had not either talked to or seen. In short, he had so well mixed and digested his knowledge of men and books, that he made one of the most accom- plished persons of his age. During the whole course of his studies and travels he kept up a punctual corre- 15 spondence with Eudoxus, who often made himself acceptable to the principal men about court by the intel- ligence which he received from Leontine. When they were both turned of forty (an age in which according to Mr. Cowley, "there is no dallying with life") they 20 determined, pursuant to the resolution they had taken in the beginning of their lives, to retire, and pass the remainder of their days in the country. In order to this, they both of them married much about the same time. Leontine, with his own and his wife's fortune, 25 bought a farm of three hundred a year, which lay within the neighborhood of his friend Eudoxus, who had purchased an estate of as many thousands. They were both of them fathers about the same time, Eudoxus having a son born to him, and Leontine a daughter; but, JO to the unspeakable grief of the latter, his young wife, 164 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS in whom all his happiness was wrapt up, died in a few days after the birth of her daughter. His affliction would have been insupportable had not he been comforted by the daily visits and conversations of his friend. As they were one day talking together with their usual s! intimacy, Leontine, considering how incapable he was of giving his daughter a proper education in his own house, and Eudoxus reflecting on the ordinary behavior of a son who knows himself to be the heir of a great estate, they both agreed upon an exchange of children; i. namely, that the boy should be bred up with Leontine as his son, and that the girl should live with Eudoxus •as his daughter, till they w^ere each of them arrived at years of discretion. The wife of Eudoxus, knowing that her son could not be so advantageously brought up as ij under the care of Leontine, and considering at the same time that he would be perpetually under her own eye, was by degrees prevailed upon to fall in with the project. She therefore took Leonilla, for that was the name of the girl, and educated her as her own daughter. The two friends on each side had wrought themselves to such an habitual tenderness for the children who were under their direction, that each of them had the real passion of a father, where the title Avas but imaginary. Florio, the name of the young heir that lived with Leontine, though he had all the duty and affection imaginable for his supposed parent, was taught to rejoice at thesight of Eudoxus, w^ho visited his friend very fre- quently, and was dictated by his natural affection, as well as by the rules of prudence, to make himself s FLORIO AND LEONILLA 165 esteemed and beloved by Florio. The boy was now old enough to know his supposed father's circumstances, and that therefore he was to make his way in the world by his own industry. This consideration grew stronger 6 in him every day, and produced so good an effect that he applied himself with more than ordinary attention to the pursuit of everything which Leontine recommended to him. His natural abilities, which were very good, assisted by the directions of so excellent a counsellor, enabled him to make a quicker progress than ordinary through all the parts of his education. Before he was twenty years of age, having finished his studies and exercises with great applause, he was removed from the University to the Inns of Court, where there are very 5 few that make themselves considerable proficients in the studies of the place, who know they shall arrive at great estates without them. This was not Florio 's case; he found that three hundt'ed a year was but a poor estate for Leontine and himself to live upon, so that he studied -0 without intermission till he gained a very good insight into the constitution and laws of his country. I should have told my reader, that whilst Florio lived at the house of his foster-father he was always an acceptable guest in the family of Eudoxus, where he 5 became acquainted with Leonilla from her infancy. His acquaintance with her, by degrees grew into love, which in a mind trained up in all the sentiments of honor and virtue became a very uneasy passion. He despaired of gaining an heiress of sogi-eat a fortune, and would rather have died than attempted it by any indirect methods. 166 ROGER DE COYERLEY PAPERS Leonilla, who was a woman of the greatest beauty joined with the greatest modesty, entertained at the same time a secret passion for Florio, but conducted herself with so much prudence that she never gave him the least intimation of it. Florio was now engaged in 5 all those arts and improvements that are proper to raise a man's private fortune, and give him a figure in his country, but secretly tormented with that passion which burns with the greatest fury in a virtuous and noble heart, when he received a sudden summons from Leontine i| to repair to him into the country the next day. For it seems Eudoxus was so filled with the report of his son's reputation that he could no longer withhold making himself known to him. The morning after his arrival at the house of his supposed father, Leontine told him t that Eudoxus had something of great importance to communicate to him; upon which the good man embraced him and wept. Florio was no sooner arrived at the great house that stood in his neighborhood but Eudoxus took him by the hand, after the first salutes 2 were over, and conducted him into his closet. He there opened to him the whole secret of his parentage and education, concluding after this manner: *'I have no other w^ay left of acknowledging my gratitude to Leontine than by marrying you to his daugliter. He 2 shall not lose the pleasure of being your father by the discovery I have made to you. Leonilla, too, shall be still my daughter; her filial piety, though misplaced, has been so exemplary that it deserves the greatest reward I can confer upon it. You shall have the pleasure 3 FLORIO AND LEONILLA 167 of seeing a great estate fall to you, which yon would have lost the relish of had you known yourself born to it. Continue only to deserve it in the same manner you did before you were possessed of it. I have left your mother 5 in the next room. Her heart yearns toward you. She is making the same discoveries to Leonilla which I have made to yourself. " Florio was so overwhelmed with this profusion of happiness that he v/as not able to make a reply, but threw himself down at his father's feet, and 10 amidst a flood of tears kissed and embraced his knees, asking his blessing, and expressing in dumb show those sentiments of love, duty, and gratitude that were too big for utterance. To conclude, the happy pair were married, and half Eudoxus's estate settled upon them. 15 Leontine and Eudoxus passed the remainder of their lives together ; and received in the dutiful and affectionate behavior of Florio and Leonilla the just recompense, as well as the natural effects, of that care which they had bestowed upon them in their education.^ ' Addison's feeHngs on finishing this paper are described in the following letter to Mr. Edward Wortley Montague : "Dear Sir: — Being very well pleased with this day's Sjyec- tator, I cannot forbear sending you one of them, and desiring your opinion of the story in it. When you have a son I shall be glad to be his Leontine, as my circumstances will probably be like his. I have within this twelvemonth lost a place of £2,000 per annum, an estate in the Indies of £14,000, and what is worse than all the rest, my mistress. Hear this and wonder at my philosophy. I find they are going to take away my Irish place from me too ; to which I must add that I have just resigned my fellowship and that stocks sink every day^ 168 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS If you have any hints or subjects, pray send me up a paper full. I long to talk an evening with you. I believe I shall not go for Ireland this summer, and perhaps would pass a month with you, if I knew where. Lady Bellasis is very much your humble servant. Dick Steele and I often remember you. "I am, dear sir, yours eternally, *'July 21, 1711. Joseph Addison • XXII PARTY FEELING [No. 125.— Addison. Tuesday, July S4.] Ne, pueri, ne tanta animis assuescite bella: Neu patriae validas in viscera A'ertite vires. ^ — Virgil. My worthy friend, Sir Roger, when we are talking of the malice of parties, very frequently tells us an accident that happened to him when he was a school boy, which was at a time when feuds ran high between the Roundheads and Cavaliers. This worthy knight, being then but a stripling, had occasion to inquire which was the way to St.* Anne's Lane, upon which the person whom he spoke to, instead of answering his question, called him a young popish cur, and asked him who had made Anne a saint. The boy, being in some confusion, inquired of the next he met, which was the way to Anne's Lane; but was called a jmck -eared 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," says Sir Roger, "I did not think fit to repeat the former ques- ' Do not, my children, accustom your minds to great con- flicts nor turn your sturdy strength against the vitals of your country. 170 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS tion, but going into every lane of the neigliborhood, asked what they called the name of that lane." By which ingenious artifice he found out the place he inquired after, without giving offence to any party. Sir Roger generally closes this narrative with reflections on the mischief that parties do in the country; how they spoil good neighborhood, and make honest gentlemen hate one another ; besides that they manifestly tend to the prejudice of the land-tax, and the destruction of the game. There cannot a greater judgment befall a country than such a dreadful spirit of division as rends a govern- ment into two distinct people, and makes them greater strangers and more averse to one another than if they were actually two different nations. The effects of such a la division are pernicious to the last degree, not only with regard to those advantages which they give the common enemy, but to those private evils which they produce in the heart of almost every particular person. This influence is very fatal both to men's morals and their 2t understandings ; it sinks the virtue of a nation, and not only so, but destroys even common sense. A furious party spirit, when it rages in its full vio- lence, exerts itself in civil war and bloodshed ; and when it is under its greatest restraints naturally breaks out in 2t falsehood, detraction, calumny, and a parti 1 adminis- tration of justice. In a word, it fills a nation with spleen and rancor, and extinguishes all the sf eds of good- nature, compassion, and humanity. Plutarch says, very finely, that a man should not allow a PARTY FEELING 171 himself to hate even his enemies, because, says he, if you indulge this passion in some occasions, it will rise of itself in others; if you hate your enemies, you will contract such a vicious habit of mind as by degrees will 6 break out upon those who are your friends, or those, who are indifferent to you. I might here observe how admirably this precept of morality (which derives the malignity of hatred from the passion itself, and not from its object) answers to that great rule which was dictated 10 to the world about an hundred years before this philoso- pher ^\Tote; but instead of that, I shall only take notice, with a real grief of heart, that the minds of many good men among us appear soured with party principles, and alienated from one another in such a manner as 15 seems to me altogether inconsistent with the dictates either of reason or religion. Zeal for a public cause is apt to breed passions in the hearts of virtuous persons to w^hich the regard of their own private interest would never have betrayed them. 20 If this party spirit has so ill an effect on our morals, it ' has likewise a very great one upon our judgments. AYe often hear a poor insipid paper or pamphlet cried up, and sometimes a noble piece depreciated, by those who are of a different principle from the author. One who 25 is actuated by this spirit is almost under an incapacity of discerning either real blemishes or beauties. A man of merit in a different principle* is like an object seen in two different mediums, that appears crooked or broken, however straight or entire it may be in itself. 30 For this reason, there is scarce a person of any figure in 172 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS England who does not go by two contrary characters, as opposite to one another as light and darkness. Knowledge and learning suffer in a particular manner from this strange prejudice, which at present prevails amongst all ranks and degrees in the British nation. As 5 men formerly became eminent in learned societies by their parts and acquisitions, they now distinguish them- selves by the warmth and violence with which they espouse their respective parties. Books are valued upon the like considerations : An abusive, scurrilous style passes lo for satire, and a dull scheme of party notions is called fine writing. There is one piece of sophistry practiced by both sides, and that is the taking any scandalous story that has been ever whispered or invented of a private man, for a is known, undoubted truth, and raising suitable specula- tions upon it. Calumnies that have never been proved, or have been often refuted, are the ordhmYjposfuIahfDis of these infamous scribblers, upon which they proceed as upon first principles granted by all men, though in 20 their liearts they know they are false, or at best very doubtful. When they have laid these foundations of scurrility, it is no wonder that their superstructure is every way answerable to them. If this shameless practice of the present age endures much longer, 25 praise and reproach will cease to be motives of action in good men. There are certain periods of time in all governments when this inhuman spirit prevails. Italy was long torn in pieces by the Guelphs and Ghibellines, and France 30 — PARTY FEELING 173 by those who were for and against the league: But it is very unhappy for a man to be born in such a stormy and tempestuous season. It is the restless ambition of artful men that thus breaks a people into factions, and 5 di'aws several well-meaning persons to their interest* by a specious concern for their country. How many honest minds are filled with uncharitable and barbaroiia notions, out of their zeal for the public good! AVhat cruelties and outrages would they not commit against 10 men of an adverse j^arty, whom they would honor and esteem, if, instead of considering them as they are represented, they knew them as they are! Thus are persons of the gi'eatest probity seduced into shameful errors and prejudices, and made bad men even by that 15 noblest of principles, the love of their country. I cannot here forbear mentioning the famous Spanish proverb, "If there were neither fools nor knaves in the world, all people would be of one mind." For my own part, I could heartily wish that all honest 20 men would enter into an association for the support of one another against the endeavors of those whom they ought to look uj^on as their common enemies, whatso- ever side they may belong to. Were tliere such an honest body of neutral forces, we should never see the 25 worst of men in the great figures of life, because they are useful to a party ; nor the best unregarded, because they are above practicing those methods which would be grateful to their faction. We should then single every criminal out of the herd, and hunt him down, however 30 formidable and overgrown he might appear: On the 174 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS contrary, we should shelter distressed innocence, and defend virtue, however beset with contempt or ridicule, envy or defamation. In short, we should not any longer regard our fellow subjects as Whigs or Tories, but should make the man of merit onr friend, and the villain our 5 enemy, C. XXIII WHIGS, AND TORIES [No. 126.— Addison. Wednesday, July 25.] Tros Rutuliisve fuat, niiilo discrimine habebo.^ — Virgil. In my yesterday's paper, I proposed that the honest men of all parties should enter into a kind of association for the defence of one another and the confusion of their common enemies. As it is designed this neutral s body should act with a regard to nothing but truth and equity and divest themselves of the little heats and prepossessions that cleave to parties of all kinds, I have prepared for them the following form of an association, which may express their intentions in the most plain and 10 simple manner : We whose names are hereunto subscribed, do solemnly declare that we do in our consciences believe two and two make four; and that we shall adjudge any man whatsoever to be our enemy who endeavors to persuade 15 us to the contrary. We are likewise ready to maintain, with the hazard of all that is near and dear to us, that six is less than seven in all times and all places, and that ten will not be more three years hence tlian it is at present. We do also firmly declare, that it is our so resolution as long as we live to call Black black, and ^ I will make no difference between Trojans and Rutulians. U5 176 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS White white. And we shall upon all occasions oppose such persons that,* upon any day of the year, shall call Black white, or White black, with the utmost peril of our lives and fortunes. Were there such a combination of honest men, who s without any regard to places would endeavor to extirpate all such furious zealots as would sacrifice one half of their country to the passion and interest of the other; as also such infamous hypocrites that are for promoting their own advantage under color of the public good; i with all the profligate, immoral retainers to each side, that have nothing to recommend them but an implicit submission to their leaders; — ^we should soon see that furious party spirit extinguished, which may in time expose us to the derision and contempt of all the nations i about us. A member of this society that would thus carefully employ himself in making room for merit, by throwing down the worthless and depraved part of mankind from those conspicuous stations of life to which they have a been sometimes advanced, and all this without any regard to his private interest, would be no small bene- factor to his country. I remember to have read in Diodorus Siculus an account of a very active little animal, which I think he ss; calls the ichneumon, that makes it the whole business of his life to break the eggs of the crocodile, which he is always in search after. This instinct is the more remarkable because the ichneumon never feeds upon the eggs he has broken, nor in any other way finds his so WHIGS AND TORIES 177 account in them. Were it not for the incessant labors of this industrious animal, Egypt, says the historian, would be overrun with crocodiles; for the Egyptians are so far from destroying those pernicious creatures 5 that they worship them as gods. If we look into the behavior of ordinary partisans, we shall find them far from resembling this disinterested animal, and rather acting after the example of the wild Tartars, who are ambitious of destroying a man of the 10 most extraordinary parts and accomplishments, as think- ing that upon his decease the same talents, whatever post they qualified him for, enter of course into his destroyer. As in the whole train of my speculations I have endeavored, as much as I am able, to extinguish that 15 pernicious spirit of passion and prejudice which rages with the same violence in all parties, I am still the more desirous of doing some good in this particular because I observe that tlie spirit of party reigns more in the country than in the town. It here contracts a kind of brutality 20 and rustic fierceness to which men of a politer conversa- tion are wholly strangers. It extends itself even to the return of the bow and the hat ; and at the same time that the heads of parties preserve toward one another an outward show of good breeding, and keep up a perpetual 25 intercourse of civilities, their tools that are dispersed in these outlying parts will not so much as mingle together at a cock-match. This humor fills the country with several periodical meetings of Whig jockeys and Tory fox-hunters, not to mention the innumerable curses, 30 frowns, and whispers rt produces at a quarter sessions. 178 ROGER DE COYERLEY PAPERS I do not know whether I have observed in any of my former papers that my friend Sir Roger de Coverley and Sir Andrew Freeport are of different principles; the first of them inclined to the landed and the other to the moneyed interest. This hnmor is so moderate in each 5 of them that it proceeds no farther than to an agreeable raillery, which very often diverts the rest of the club. I find, however, that the knight is a much stronger Tory in the country than in town, which, as he has told me in my ear, is absolutely necessary for the keeping up his lo interest. In all our journey from London to his house Ave did not so much as bait at a Whig inn; or if by chance the coachman stopped at a wa'ong place, one of Sir Roger's servants woukl ride up to. his master full speed, and Avhisper to him that the master of the house is was against such an one in tlie last election. This often betrayed us into hard beds and bad cheer ; for we w^ere not so inquisitive about the inn as the innkeeper, and, provided our landlord's principles were sound, did not take any notice of the staleness of his provisions. 20 This I found still the more inconvenient because the better the host was, the worse generally were his accommo- dations; the fellow knowing very well that those who were his friends would take up with coarse diet and an hard lodging. For these reasons, all the while I was upon 25 the road I dreaded entering into an house of any one that Sir Roger had applauded for an Iionest man. Since my stay at Sir Roger's in the country, I daily ,find more instances of this narrow party-humor. Being upon a bowling-green at a neighboring market-town the 30 WHIGS AND TORIES 1 79 other day (for that is the place where the gentlemen of one side meet once a week), I observed a stranger among them of a better presence and genteel er behavior than ordinary ; bat was much surprised that, notwithstanding 5 he was a very fair bettor, nobody would take him up. But, upqn inquiry, I found that he was one that had given a disagi'eeabie vote in a former parliament, for which reason there was not a man upon that bowling- green who would have so much correspondence vrith him as to win his money of him. Among other instances of this nature, I must not omit one wdiich concerns myself. Will Wimble was the other day relating several strange stories, that he had picked up nobody knows where, of a certain great man ; and upon 5 my staring at him, as one that was surprised to hear sucli things in the country, which had never been so much as whispered in the town, Will stopped short in the thread of his discourse, and after dinner asked my friend Sir Roger in his car if lie was sure that I was lot a fanatic. It gives me a serious concern to see such a spirit of dissension in the countr}- ; not only as it destroys virtue and common sense, and renders us in a manner barbarians towards one another, but as it perpetuates our animosi- ties, widens our breaches, and transmits our present passions and prejudices to our posterity. For my own part, I am sometimes afraid that I discover the seeds of a civil war in these our divisions, and therefore cannot but bewail, as in their first principles, the miseries and cahimities of our childi'en. C. XXIV SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES [No. 130.— Addison. Monday, July 30.] Semperque recentes Convectare juvat praedas, et vivere rapto.^ — Virgil. As I was yesterday riding out in the fields with my friend Sir Roger, we saw at a little distance from iis a troop of gypsies. Upon the first discovery of them, my friend was in some doubt whether he should not exert the justice of the peace upon such a band of lawless si vagrants ; but not having his clerk with him, who is a necessary counsellor on these occasions, and fearing that his poultry might fare the worse for it, he let the thought di'op; but at the same time gave me a particular account of the mischiefs they do in the country, in stealing people's goods and spoiling their servants. ''If a stray piece of linen hangs upon an hedge,'* says Sir Roger, "they are sure to have it; if the hog loses his way in the fields, it is ten to one but he becomes their prey; our geese cannot live in peace for them; if a man prosecutes them with severity, his hen-roost is sure to pay for it. They generally straggle into these parts about * It is always a pleasant thing to gather fresh spoils and live on one's thefts. 180 SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES 181 this time of the year, and set the heads of our servant- maids so agog for husbands that we do not expect to have any business done as it should be whilst they are in the country. I have an honest dairymaid who crosses 5 their hands with a piece of silver every summer, and never fails being promised the handsomest young fellow in the parish for her pains. Your friend, the butler, has been fool enough to be seduced by them; and, though he is sure to lose a knife, a fork, or a spoon 10 every time his fortune is told him, generally shuts him- self up in the pantry with an old gypsy for about half an hour once in a twelvemonth. Sweethearts are the things they live upon, which they bestow very plentifully upon all those that apply themselves to them. You see, now 15 and then, some handsome young jades among them ; the sluts have often very white teeth and black eyes." Sir Roger, observing that I listened with great atten- tion to his account of a people who were so entirely new to me, told me that if I would they should tell us our 20 fortunes. As I was very well pleased with the knight's proposal, we rid up and communicated our hands to them. A Cassandra of the crew, after having examined my lines very diligently, told me that I loved a pretty maid in the corner; that I was a good woman's man; 25 with some other particulars which I do not think proper to relate. My friend Sir Roger alighted from his horse, and exposing his palm to two or three that stood by, they crumpled it into all shapes, and diligently scanned every wrinkle that could be made in it; when one of them, 30 who was older and more sunburnt than the rest, told I S5 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS him that he had a widow in his line of life: Ui-)on which the knight cried, "Go, go, you are an idle baggage"; and at the same time smiled upon me. The gypsy, finding he was not displeased in his heart, told him, after a further inquiry into his hand, that his true love was constant, and that she should dream of him to-night. My old friend cried "Pish!"' and bid her go on. The gypsy told him that he was a bachelor, but would not be so long : and that he was dearer to somebody than he thought: the knight still repeated she was aii idle baggage, and bid her go on. "Ah, master," says the gypsy, "that roguish leer of yours makes a pretty woman's heartache; you ha 'n't that simper about the mouth for nothing—." The uncouth gibberish with which all this was uttered, like the dai^kness of an oracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be short, the knight left the money with her that he had crossed her hand with, and got up again on his horse. As we were riding away, Sir Roger told me that he knew several sensible people who believed these 20^ gypsies now and then foretold very strange things ; and for half an hour together appeared more jocund than ordinary. In the height of his good humor, meeting a common beggar upon the road who was no conjurer, as he went to relieve him he found his pocket was 25 picked; that being a kind of palmistry at which this race of vermin are very dexterous. I might here entertain my reader with historical remarks on this idle, profligate people, who infest all the countries of Europe, and live in the midst of govern- 30 SIR ROGER AND THE GYPSIES 183 ments in a kind of commonwealth by themselves. But instead of entering into observations of this nature, I shall fill the remaining part of my paper v/ith a story which rs still fresh in Holland, and was printed in one of o our monthly accounts about twenty years ago : *'As the trehsclmyt^ or hackney boat, which carries passengers from Leyden to Amsterdam, was putting off, a boy running along the side of the canal desired to be taken in: which the master of the boat refused, because 10 the lad had not quite money enough to pay the usual fare. An eminent merchant, being pleased with the looks of the boy, and secretly touched with compassion towards him, paid the money for him, and ordered him to be taken on board. 15 "Upon talking with him afterwards, he found that he could speak readily in three or four languages, and learned upon farther examination that he had been stolen away when he was a child, by a gypsy, and had rambled ever since with a gang of those strollers up and down 20 several parts of Europe. It happened that the mer- chant, whose heart seems to have inclined towards the boy by a secret kind of instinct, had himself lost a child some years before. The parents, after a long search for him, gave him for drowned in one of the canals with 25 which that country abounds ; and the mother was so afflicted at the loss of a fine boy, who was her only son, that she died for grief of it. "Upon laying together all particulars, and examining the several moles and marks by which the mother used 184 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS to describe the child when he was first missing, the boy proved to be the son of the merchant whose heart had so unaccountably melted at the sight of him. The lad was very well pleased to find a father who was so rich, and likely to leave him a good estate ; the father, on the 5 other hand, was not a little delighted to see a son returned to him, whom he had given for lost, with such a strength of constitution, sharpness of understanding, and skill in languages." Here the printed story leaves off ; but if I may give lo credit to reports, our linguist, having received such extraordinary rudiments towards a good education, was afterwards trained up in everything that becomes a gentleman; wearing off by little and little all the vicious habits and practices that he had been used to in the 15 course of his peregrinations. Nay, it is said that he has since been employed in foreign courts upon national business, with great reputation to himself and honor to those who sent him, and that he has visited several countries as a public minister, in which he formerly 20 wandered as a gypsy. C. XXV A SUMMONS TO LONDON [No. 131. — Addison. Tuesday, July 31.] Ipsae rursum concedite sylvae.^ — Virgil. It is usual for a man who loves country sports to pre- serve the game in his own grounds, and divert himself upon those that belong to his neighbor. My friend Sir Eoger generally goes two or three miles from his house, 6 and gets into the frontiers of his estate, before he beats about in search of an hare or partridge, on purpose to spare his own fields, where he is always sure of finding di- version when the worst comes to the worst. By this means the breed about his house has time to increase and mul- 10 tiply ; besides that the sport is the more agreeable where the game is the harder to come at, and does not lie so thick as to produce any perplexity or confusion in the pur- suit. For these reasons the country gentleman, like the fox, seldom preys near his own home. 15 In the same manner I have made a month's excursion out of the town, which is the gi'eat field of game for sportsmen of my species, to try my fortune in the country, where I have stai'ted* several subjects and hunted them down, with some pleasure to myself, and I ' Once more, ye woods, adieu, 185 186 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS hope to others. I am here forced to use a gi'eat deal of diligence before I can spring anj^thing to my mind; whereas in town, whilst I am following one character, it is ten to one but I am crossed in my way by another, and 23nt up such a variety of odd creatures in both sexes 5 that they foil the scent of one another, and puzzle th-e chase. My greatest difficulty in the country is to find sport, and, in town, to choose it. In the meantime, as I have gi\^en a whole month's rest to the cities of Lon- don and Westminster, I promise myself abundance of i(( new game upon my return thither. It is indeed high time for me to leave the country, since I find the whole neighborhood begin to grow very inquisitive after my name and character; my love of solitude, taciturnity, and particular way of life, having it raised a great curiosity in all these parts. The notions which have been framed of me are various : some look upon me as very proud, and some as very melancholy. Will Wimble, as my friend the butler tells me, observing me very much alone, and extremely 2C silent when I am in company, is afraid I have killed a man. The country people seem to suspect me for a conjurer; and, some of them hearing of the visit which I made to Moll White, will needs have it that Sir Roger has brought down a cunning man with him, to 25 cure the old woman and free the country from her charms. So that the character which I go under in part of the neighborhood, is what they call here a *' White Witch." A justice of peace, who lives about five miles off, and 30 A SUMMONS TO LONDON 187 is not of Sir Roger's party, has, it seems, said twice or thrice at his table that he wishes * Sir Eoger does not har- bor a Jesuit in his house, and that he thinks the gentle- men of the country would do very well to make me give 5 some account of m3^self. On the other side, some of Sir Roger's friends are afraid the old knight is imposed upon by a designing fellow, and as they have heard that he converses very promiscuously, when he is in town, do not know but 10 he has brought down with him some discarded Whig, that is sullen and says nothing because he is out of place. Such is the variety of opinions that are here enter- tained of me, so that I pass among some for a disaffected 15 person, and among others for a popish priest; among some for a wizard, and among others for a murderer; and all this for no other reason, that I can imagine, but because I do not hoot and hollow and make a noise. It is true my friend Sir Roger tells them, that it is my 20 ivay^ and that I am only a philosopher ; but that will not satisfy them. They think there is more in me than he discovers, and that I do not hold my tongue for nothing. For these and other reasons I shall set out for London 25 to-morrow, having found by experience that the country is not a place for a person of my temper, who does not love jollity, and what they call good neighborhood. A man that is out of humor when an unexpected guest breaks in upon him, and does not care for sacrificing an 30 afternoon to every chance-comer ; that will be the master 188 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS of his own time, and the pursuer of his own inclinations makes but a very unsociable figure in this kind of life. I shall therefore retire into the town, if I may make use of that phrase, and get into the crowd again as fast as I can, in order to be alone. I can there raise what 5 speculations I please upon others, without being observed myself, and at the same time enjoy all the advantages of company with all the privileges of solitude. In the meanwhile, to finish the month, and conclude these my rural speculations, I shall here insert a letter from my lO friend Will Honeycomb, who has not lived a month for these forty years out of the smoke of London, and rallies me after his way upon my country life. "Dear Spec. "I suppose this letter will find thee picking of daisies, 15^ or smelling to a lock of hay, or passing away thy time in some innocent country diversion of the like nature. I have, however, orders from the club to summon thee up to town, being all of us cursedly afraid thou wilt not be able to relish our company after thy conversations with 20: Moll White and Will Wimble. Pr'ythee don't send us up any more stories* of a cock and a bull, nor frighten the town with spirits and witches. Thy speculations begin to smell confoundedly of woods and meadows. If thou dost not come up quickly, we shall conclude that 25: thou art in love with one of Sir Roger's dairy-maids. Service to the knight. Sir Andrew has grown the cock of the club since he left us, and if he does not return quickly will make every mother's son of us Common- wealth's men. "Dear Spec, "Thine Eternally, C. "Will Hoi^eycomb." XXVI THE COACH TO LONDON [No. 132. — Steele. Wednesday, August 1.1 Qui aut tempus quid postulet non videt, aut plura loquitur, aut se ostentat, aut eorum quibuscum est rationem non habet, is ineptus esse dicitur.^ — Tully. Having notified to my good friend Sir Roger that I should set out for London the next day, his horses were ready at the appointed hour in the evening; and attended by one of his gTooms, I arrived at the county 5 town at twilight, in order to be ready for the stage-coach the day following. As soon as we arrived at the inn, the servant who" waited upon me, inquired of the chamber- lain, in my hearing, what company he had for the coach. The fellow answered, *'Mrs.* Betty Arable, the great 10 fortune, and the widow, her mother ; a recruiting officer (who took a place because they were to go); young Squire Quickset, her cousin (that her mother wished her to be married to); Ephraim the Quaker, her guardian; and a gentleman that had studied himself 15 dumb from Sir Roger de Coverley's." I observed, by what he said of myself, that according to his office, he dealt much in intelligence ;* and doubted not but there ^ He is said to be inept who does not see that he is taking up the time, or talking too much, or obtrudes himself, or has no regard for those he is with. I8d 190 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS was some foundation for his reports of the rest of the compan}', as well as for the whimsical account he gave of me. The next morning at daybreak we were all called; and I, who know my own natural shyness, and endeavor to 5 be as little liable to be disputed with as possible, dressed immediately, that I might make no one wait. The first preparation for our setting out was, that the captain's half pike w^as placed near the coachman, and a drum behind the coach. In tlie meantime the drummer, the 10 captain's equipage, was very loud that none of the captain's things should be placed so as to be spoiled; upon which his cloak bag was fixed in the seat of the coach: And the captain himself, according to a fre- quent thougli invidious behavior of military men, 15 ordered his man to look sharp that none but one of the ladies should have the place he had taken fronting to the coach-box. We were in some little time fixed in our seats, and sat witli that dislike which people not too good-natured 20 usually conceive of each other at first sight. The coach jumbled us insensibly into some sort of familiarity, and vv'c had not moved above two miles when the widow asked the captain what success he had in his recruiting. The officer, with a frankness he believed very graceful, 25 told her that indeed he had but very little luck, and had suffered much by desertion, therefore should be glad to end his warfare in the service of her or her fair daughter. ""In a word, ■' continued he, *'I am a soldier, and to be plain is my character ; you see me, Madam, 3C THE COACH TO LONDON 191 young,sonnd, and impudent ; take me yourself, Widow, or give me to her ; I will be wholly at your disposal. I am a soldier of fortune, ha!" This was followed by a vain laugh of his own, and a deep silence of all the rest of the company. I had nothing left for it but to fall fast asleep, which I did with all speed. "Come," said he, "resolve upon it, we will make a wedding at the next town: we will wake this pleasant companion who is fallen asleep, to be the brideman, and" (giving the Quaker a clap on the knee), he concluded, "this sly saint, who, I'll warrant, understands what's what as well as you or I, Widow, shall give the bride as father." The Quaker, who happened to be a man of smartness, answered, "Friend, I take it in good part, that thou 5 hast given me the authority of a father over this comely and virtuous child; and Imust assure thee that, if I have the giving her, I shall not bestow her on thee. Thy mirth, friend, savoreth of folly ; thou art a person of a light mind; thy di'um is a type of thee — it soundeth because it is empty. Verily, it is not from thy fulness but thy emptiness that thou hast spoken this day. Friend, friend, we have hired this coach in partnership with thee, to carry us to the great city, we cannot go any other way. This worthy mother must hear thee if thou wilt needs utter thy follies; we cannot help it, friend, I say; if thou wilt, we must hear thee; but, if thou wert a m^an of understanding, thou wouldst not take advantage of thy courageous countenance to abash us children of peace. Thou art, thou sayest, a soldier : give quarter to us, who cannot resist thee. Why didp.t 192 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS thou fleer at our friend, who feigned himself asleep? ' He said nothing, but how dost thou know what he con- taineth? If thou speakest improper things in the heai'ing of this virtuous young virgin, consider it is an outrage against a distressed person that cannot get from thee: To speak indiscreetly what we are obliged to hear, by being hasped up with thee in this public vehicle, is ! in some degree assaulting on the high road." Here Ephraim paused, and the captain, with a happy and uncommon impudence (which can be convicted and support itself at the same time), cries, * 'Faith, friend, I thank thee ; I should have been a little impertinent if thou hadst not reprimanded me. Come, thou art, I see, a smoky old fellow, and I'll be very orderly the ensuing part of the journey. I was going to give myself airs, but, ladies, I beg pardon." The captain was so little out of humor, and our com- pany was so far from being soured by this little ruffle, that Ephraim and he took a particular delight in being agreeable to each other for the future, and assumed i their different provinces in the conduct of the company. Our reckonings, apai'tments, and accommodation fell under Ephraim ; and the captain looked to all disputes on the road, as the good behavior of our coachman, and the right* we had of taking place as going to London s of all vehicles coming from thence. The occurrences we met with were ordinary, and very little happened which could entertain by the relation of them: But when I considered the company we were in, I took it for no small good fortune that the whole journey was not spent a THE COACH TO LONDON 193 in impertinences, wliicli to one part of us might be an entertainment, to the other a suffering. What, therefore, Ephraim said when we were almost arrived at London, had to me an air not only of good 5 understanding but good breeding.* Upon the young lady's expressing her satisfaction in the journey, and declaring how delightful it had been to her, Ephraim delivered himself as follows: *' There is no ordinary part of human life which expresseth so much a good mind, 10 and a right inward man, as his behavior upon meeting with strangers, especially such as may seem the most unsuitable companions to him : Such a man, when he falleth in the way with persons of simplicity and innocence, however knowing he may be in the ways of 15 men, will not vaunt himself thereof; but will the rather hide his superiority to them, that he may not be painful unto them. My good friend, " continued he, turning to the officer, *'thee and I are to part by and by, and peradven- ture we may never meet again: But be advised by a 20 plain man ; modes and apparel are but trifles to the real man, therefore do not think such a man as thyself terrible for thy garb, nor such a one as me contemptible for mine. When two such as thee and I meet, with affec- tions as we ought to have towards each other, thou 25 shouldst rejoice to see my peaceable demeanor, and I should be glad to see thy strength and ability to protect me in it." T. ^ "There was an insane dislike to Quakers in Queen Anne's reign, and I have not met with one kindly or sympathetic remark about them in all my varied reading of these times. " — John Ashton. XXVII SIR ANDREW ON TRADE [No. 174. — Steele. Wednesday, September 19.] Haec raemini et victum frustra contendere Thyrsin.^ — Virgil. There is scarce anything more common than animosi- ties between parties that cannot subsist but by their agreement: This was well represented in the sedition of the members of the human body in the old Eoman fable. It is often the case of lesser confederate states against a superior power, which are hardly held together, though their unanimity is necessary for their common safety : And this is always the case of the landed and trading interest of Great Britain ; the trader is fed by the product of the land, and the landed man cannot be clothed but by the skill of the trader and yet those interests are ever jarring. We had last winter an instance of this at our club, in Sir Eoger de Coverley and Sir Andrew Freeport, between whom there is generally a constant, though friendly, opposition of opinions. It happened that one of the company, in an historical discourse, was observing that ' I remember these things and how Thyrsis, beaten, vainly went on in his contention, 194 SIR ANDREW ON TRADE 195 Carthaginian faith was a proverbial phrase to intimate breach of leagues. Sir Roger said it could hardly be otherwise: That "the Carthaginians were the gi'eatest traders in the world; and as gain is the chief end of- 5 such a people, they never pursue any other : The means to it are never regarded. They will, if it comes easily, get money honestly; but if not, they will not scruple to obtain it by fraud, or cozenage. And, indeed, what is the whole business of the trader's account, but to 10 overreach him who trusts to his memory? But were that not so, what can there great and noble be expected from him whose attention is forever fixed upon balancing his books, and watching over his expenses? And at best, let frugality and parsimony be the virtues of the 15 merchant, how much is his punctual dealing below a gentleman's charity to the poor, or hospitality among his neighbors!" Captain Sentry observed Sir Andrew very diligent in hearing Sir Roger, and had a mind to turn the discourse, 20 by taking notice in general, from the highest to the lowest parts of human society, there was a secret, though unjust, way among men, of indulging the seeds of ill-nature and envy, by comparing their own state of life to that of another, and grudging the approach of 25 their neighbor to their own happiness ; and on the other side, he who is the less at his ease, repines at the other who, he thinks, has unjustly the advantage over him. Thus the civil and military lists look upon each other with much ill-nature: the soldier repines at the courtier's 30 power, and the courtier rallies the soldier's honor; or. 196 ROGER DE COVERLET PAPERS to come to lower instances, the private men in the horse and foot of an army, the carmen and coach- men in the city streets, mutually look upon each other with ill-will, when they are in competition for quarters or the way, in their respective motions. "It is very well, good captain," interrupted Sir Andrew. "You may attempt to turn the discourse if you think fit; but I must, however, have a word or two with Sir Roger, who, I see, thinks he has paid me off, and been very severe upon the merchant. I shall not," continued he, *'at this time remind Sir Eoger of the gi'eat and noble monuments of charity and public spirit which have been erected by merchants since the Reformation, but at present content myself with what he allows us, — parsimony and frugality. If it were 5 consistent with the quality of so ancient a bai'onet as Sir Roger, to keep an account, or measure things by the most infallible way, that of numbers, he would prefer our parsimony to his hospitality. If to drink so many hogsheads is to be hospitable, we do not contend for the fame of that virtue ; but it would be worth while to con- sider whether so many artificers at work ten days together by my appointment, or so many peasants made merry on Sir Roger's charge, are the men more obliged? I believe the families of the artificers will thank me more than the households of the peasants shall* Sir Roger. Sir Roger gives to his men, but I place mine above the necessity or obligation of my bounty. I am in very little pain for the Roman proverb upon the Carthaginian traders ; the Romans were their professed a SIR ANDREW ON TRADE 197 enemies: I am only sorry no Carthaginian histories have come to our hands ; we might have been taught, perhaps, by them some proverbs against the Roman gener- osity, in fighting for and bestowing other people's goods. 5 But since Sir Roger has taken occasion from an old proverb to be out of humor with merchants, it should be no offence to offer one not quite so old in their defence. When a man happens to break in Holland, they say of him that 'he has not kept true accounts.' This phrase, perhaps, among us would appear a soft or humorous way of speaking, but with that exact nation it bears the highest reproach ; for a man to be mistaken in the calculation of his expense, in his ability to answer future demands, or to be impertinently* sanguine in 5 putting his credit to too great adventure, are all instances of as much infamy as, with gayer nations, to be failing in courage or common honesty. ** Numbers are so much the measure of everything that is valuable, that it is not possible to demonstrate the success of any action, or the prudence of any under- taking, without them. I say this in answer to what Sir Roger is pleased to say, that 'little that is truly noble can be expected from one who is ever poring on his cash-book or balancing his accounts.' When I have 5 my returns from abroad, I can tell to a shilling, by the help of numbers, the profit or loss by my adventure ; but I ought also to be able to show that I had reason for making it, either from my own experience or that of other people, or from a reasonable presumption that my ) returns will be sufficient to answer my expense and 198 EOGER DE COVERI.EY PAPERS hazard ; and tliis is never to be done without the skill of numbers. For instance, if I am to trade to Tukey, I ought beforehand to know the demand of our manu- factures there, as well as of their silks in England, and the customary prices that are given for both in each 8 country. I ought to have a clear knowledge of these matters beforehand, that I may presume upon sufficient retm*ns to answer the charge of the cargo I have fitted out, the freight and assurance out and home, the customs to the queen, and the interest of my own lof money, and besides all these expenses, a reasonable profit to myself. Now what is there of scandal in this skill? What has the merchant done that he should be so little in the good graces of Sir Roger? He throws down no man's enclosure, and tramples upon no man's corn;* is he takes nothing from the industrious laborer ; he pays the poor man for his work; he communicates his profit with mankind; by the preparation of his cargo, and the manufacture of his returns, he furnishes employment and subsistence to greater numbers than the richest ao| nobleman ; and even the nobleman is obliged to him for finding out foreign markets for the produce of his estate, and for making a great addition to his rents; and yet it is certain that none of all these things could be done by him without the exercise of his skill in 25 numbers. "This is the economy of the merchant, and the con- duct of the gentleman must be the same, unless by scorning to be the steward, he resolves the steward shall ^ A sly hit at the fox-hunting of the squires. SIR ANDREW OX TRADE 199 be the gentleman. The gentleman, no more than the merchant, is able, withont the help of numbers, to account for the success of any action, or the prudence or any adventure. If, for instance, the chase is his whole 5 adventure, his only returns must be the stag's horns in the great hall and the fox's nose upon the stable door. Without doubt Sir Koger knows tlie full value of these returns ; and if beforehand he had computed the charges of the chase, a gentleman of his discretion would certainly have hanged up all his dogs; he would never have brought back so many fine horses to the kennel ; he would never have gone so often, like a blast, over fields of corn. If such, too, had been the conduct of all his ancestors, he might truly have boasted, at this day, that the 5 antiquity of his family had never been sullied by a trade ; a merchant had never been permitted with his whole estate to purchase a room for his picture in the gallery of the Coverley's, or to claim his descent from the maid of honor. But 'tis very happy for Sir Eoger that the JO merchant paid so dear for his ambition. 'Tis the mis- fortune of many other gentlemen to turn out of the seats of their ancestors, to make way for such new masters as have been more exact in their accounts than themselves ; and certainly he deserves the estate a great deal better 25 who has got it by his industry, than he who has lost it by his negligence." T. XXVIII SIR ROGER IN LONDON » [No. 269. — Addison. Tuesday, January 8."] ^vo rarissima nostro Simplicitas . ^ — Ovid. I was this morning surprised with, a great knocking at the door, when my landlady's daughter came up to me and told me that there was a man below desired to speak to me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me it was a very grave, elderly person, but that she did 5 \ not know his name. I immediately went down to him, and found him to be the coachman of my worthy friend, Sir Roger de Coverley. He told me that his master came to town last night, and would be glad to take a ^ Sir Roger and Will Honeycomb appear for a moment in No. 251 of the Spectator. There is nothing, says that issue of the paper, which more astonishes a foreigner, and frights a country squire, than the Cries of London^ My good friend Sir Roger often declares, that he cannot get them out of his head, or go to sleep for them the first week that he is in town. On the contrary, Will Honeycomb calls them the Ramage de la Ville [warblers of the town], and prefers them to the sounds of larks and nightingales, with all the music of the fields and woods. 2 Simplicity, the rarest of things in our age. 200 SIR ROGER IN LONDON 201 turn with me in Gray's Inn Walks. As I was wonder- ing in myself what had brought Sir Eoger to town, not having lately received any letter from him, he told me that his master was come up to get a sight of Prince 5 Eugene, and that he desired I would immediately meet him. I was not a little pleased with the curiosity of the old knight, though I did not much wonder at it, having heard him say more than once in private discourse, that 10 he looked upon Prince Eugenio (for so the knight always calls him) to be a greater man than Scanderbeg. I was no sooner come into Gray's Inn Walks, but I heard my friend upon the terrace hemming twice or thrice to himself with great vigor, for he loves to clear 15 his pipes in good air (to make use of his own phrase), and is not a little pleased with any one who takes notice of the strength which he still exerts in his morning hems. I was touched with a secret joy at the sight of the good old man, who before he saw me was engaged in 20 conversation with a beggar -man that had asked an alms of him. I could hear my friend chide him for not find- ing out some work ; but at the same time saw him put his hand in his pocket and give him sixpence. Our salutations were very hearty on both sides, con- 25 sisting of many shakes of the hand, and several affection- ate looks which we cast upon one another. After which the knight told me my good friend his chaplain was very well, and much at my service, and that the Sunday before he had made a most incomparable sermon out of 30 Doctor Barrow. "I have left," says he, "all my affairs 202 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS in his hands, and being willing to lay an obligation npon him, have deposited with him thirty marks, to be dis- tributed among his poor parishioners." He then proceeded to acquaint me with the welfare of Will Wimble. Upon which he put his hand into his 5 fob and presented me, in his name, Avith a tobacco- stopper, telling me that Will had been busy all the beginning of the winter in turning great /quantities of them, and that he made a present of one to every gentle- man in the country who has good principles* and smokes, lo He added that poor Will was at present under great tribulation, for that Tom Touchy had taken the law of him for cutting some hazel sticks out of one of his hedges. Among other pieces of news which the knight brought is from his country-seat, he informed me that Moll White was dead ; and that about a month after her death the wind was so very high that it blew down the end of one of his barns. "But for my own part," says Sir Roger, "I do not think that the old woman had any hand in it." 20 He afterwards fell into an account of the diversions which had passed in his house during the holidays ; for Sir Roger, after the laudable custom of his ancestors, always keeps open house at Christmas. I learned from him that he had killed eight fat hogs for the season, 25 that he had dealt about his chines very liberally amongst his neighbors, and that in particular he had sent a string of hog's -puddings with a pack of cards to every poor family in the parish. "I have ofteii thought," says Sir Roger, "it happens very well that Christmas should fall so SIR ROGER IN LONDON 203 out in the middle of the winter. It is the most dead, uncomfortable time of the year, when the poor people would suffer very much from their poverty and cold, if they had not good cheer, warm fires, and Christmas 5 gambols to support them. I love to rejoice their poor hearts at this season, and to see the whole village merry in my gi'eat hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to my small beer, and set it a running for twelve days to every one that calls for it. I have always apiece of cold 10 beef and a mince pie upon the table, and am wonderfully pleased to see my tenants pass , away a whole evening in playing their innocent tricks, and smutting one another. Our friend ^Yill Wimble is as merry as any of them, and shows a thousand roguish tricks upon these 15 occasions." I was very much delighted with the reflection of my old friend, which carried so much goodness in it. He then launched out into the praise of the late Act of Parliament for securing* the Church of England, and 20 told me, with gi'eat satisfaction, that he believed it already began to take effect, for that a rigid Dissenter, who chanced to dine at his house on Christmas day, had been observed to eat very plentifully of his plum- porridge. 25 After having dispatched all our country matters. Sir Roger made several inquiries concerning the club, and particularly of his old antagonist. Sir Andrew Freeport. He asked me with a kind of smile whether Sir Andrew had not taken advantage of his absence to vent among 30 them some of his republican doctrines; but soon after, 204 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS gathering up his countenance into a more than ordinary seriousness, "Tell me truly," says he, "don't you think Sir Andrew had a hand in the Pope's Procession?" — but without giving me time to answer him, "Well, well," says he, "I know you are a wary man, and do 5 not care to talk of public matters." The knight then asked me if I had seen Prince Eugenio, and made me promise to get him a stand in some convenient place, where he might have a full sight of that extraordinary man, whose presence does so much lo honor to the British nation. He dwelt very long on the praises of this great general, and I found that, since I was with him in the country, he had drawn many observations together out of his reading in Baker's "Chronicle," and other authors, is who always lie in his hall window, which very much redound to the honor of this prince. Having passed away the greatest part of the morning in hearing the knight's reflections, which were partly private and partly political, he asked me if I would 20 smoke a pipe with him over a dii-h. of coffee at Squire's. As I love the old man, I take delight in complying with everything that is agreeable to him, and accordingly waited on him to the coffee house, where his venerable figure drew upon us the eyes of the whole room. He 25 had no sooner seated himself at the upper end of the high table, but he called for a clean pipe, a paper of tobacco, a dish of coffee, a wax candle, and the Si(ppleme?it, with such an air of cheerfulness and good humor that all the boys in the coffee-room (who seemed 30 SIR ROGER IN LONDON 205 to take pleasure in serving him) were at once employed on his several errands, insomuch that no body else could come at a dish of tea till the knight had got all his conveniencies about him L. XXIX A SELECTION FROM A SPECTATOR \No. 295. — Addison. February 7.] Socrates in Plato's Alcibiades, says he was informed by one who had traveled through Persia that as he passed over a gi'eat tract of lands and inquired what the name of the place was, they told him it was the Queen's Girdle ; to which he adds that another wide field which lay by 5 it was called the Queen's Veil and that in the same manner there was a large portion of ground set aside for every part of her majesty's di'ess. These lands might not be improperly called the Queen of Persia's Pin Money. i< I remember my friend, Sir Roger, who I dare say never read this passage in Plato, told me some time since that upon his courting the perverse widow (of whom I have given an account in former papers) he had disposed of an hundi'ed acres in a diamond ring, which he would have ie presented her with, had she thought fit to accept it, and that upon her wedding day she should have carried on her head fifty of the tallest oaks upon his estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a coal pit to keep her in clean linen, that he would have sc allowed her the profits of a windmill for her fans and have presented her once in three years with the 206 A SELECTION FROM A SPECTATOR 207 shearing of his sheep for her under petticoats ; to which the knight always adds that, though he did not care for fine clothes himself, there should not have been a woman in the country better dressed than my Lady Coverley. Sir Eoger, perhaps, may in this, as well as in many other of his devices, appear something odd and singular, but if the humor of pin money prevails, I think it would be very proper for every gentleman of an estate to mark out so many acres of it under the title of the pins. L. XXX IN WESTMINSTER* ABBEY 1 [No. 329.— Addison. Tuesday, March 18.] Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit et Ancus.* — Horace. My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me t'other night that he had been reading my paper upon Westminster Abbey, in which, says he, there are a great many ingenious fancies. He told me, at the same time, that he observed I had promised another paper upon the tombs, 5 and that he should be glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he had read history. I could not at first imagine how this came into the knight 'a head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all last summer upon Baker's ** Chronicle, " which he has id quoted several times in his disputes with Sir Andrew Freeport since his last coming to town. Accordingly, I promised to call upon him the next morning, that we might go together to the Abbey. I found the knight under his butlers hands, who always shaves him. He was no sooner dressed than he called for a glass of the widow Trueby's water, which he told me he always drank before he went abroad. He recommended me to a dram of it at the same time, ^ It remains to go down whither Nuina has gone and Ancus. 208 IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 209 with so much heartiness that I could not forbear drink- ing it. As soon as I had got it down, I found it very unpalatable; upon which the knight, observing that I had made several wry faces, told me that he knew I 5 should not like it at first, but that it was the best thing in the world against the stone or gravel. I could have wished, indeed, that he had acquainted me with the virtues of it sooner ; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had done was out of 10 good-will. Sir Roger told me, further, that he looked upon it to be very good for a man, whilst he stayed in town, to keep off infection; and that he got together a quantity of it upon the first news of the sickness being at Dantzic. When, of a sudden, turning short to one 15 of his servants, who stood behind him, he bid him call an hackney-coach, and take care it was an elderly man that drove it. He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. Trueby'a water, telling me that the Widow Trueby was one who 20 did more good than all the doctors and apothecaries in the county: That she distilled every poppy that grew within five miles of her ; that she distributed her water gratis among all sorts of people; to which the knight added that she had a very great jointure, and that the 25 whole country would fain have it a match between him and her; ''And truly," said Sir Roger, ''if I had not been engaged* perhaps I could not have done better." His discourse was broken off by his man's telling him he had called a coach. Upon our going to it, after 30 having cast his eye upon the wheels, he asked the coach- 210 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS man if his axle-tree was good; upon the fellow's telling him he would warrant it, the knight turned to me, told me he looked like an honest man, and went in without further ceremony. We had not gone far when Sir Roger, popping out 5 his head, called the coachman down from his box and, upon his presenting himself at the window, asked him if he smoked ; as I was considering what this would end in, he bid him stop by the way at any good tobacconist and take in a roll of their best A^irginia. Nothing 10 ] material happened in the remaining part of our journey till we were set down at the west end of the Abbey. As we went up the body of the church, the knight pointed at the trophies upon one of the new monuments, and cried out, * 'A brave man, I warrant him !" Passing is: afterwards by Sir Cloudesley Shovel, he flung his hand that way, and cried, "Sir Cloudesley Shovel! a very gallant man!" As we stood before Busby's tomb, the knight uttered himself again after the same manner : — "Dr. Busby — a great man! he Avhipped my grandfather 20 — a very great man ! I should have gone to him myself if I had not been a blockhead — a very great man!" We were immediately conducted into the little chapel on the right hand. Sir Roger, planting himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive to every thing he 25^ said, particularly to the account he gave us of the lord who had cut olf the King of Morocco's head. Among several other figures, he was very well j)leased to see the statesman Cecil upon his knees; and, concluding them all to be great men, was conducted to the figure 30 1 IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 211 which represents that martyr to good housewifery who died by the prick of a needle. Upon our interpreter's telling us that she was a maid of honor to Queen Elizabeth, the knight was very inquisitive into her 5 name and family ; and, after having regarded her finger for some time, "I wonder," says he, '*that Sir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his * Chronicle.' " We were then conveyed to the two coronation chairs, where my old friend, after having heard that the stone 10 underneath the most ancient of them, which was brought from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pillar, sat himself down in the chair, and, looking like the figure of an old Gothic king, asked our interpreter what authority they had to say that Jacob had ever been in Scotland. The 15 fellow, instead of returning him an answer, told hiiB that he hoped his honor would pay his forfeit. I could observe Sir Roger a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but, our guide not insisting upon his demand^ the knight soon recovered his good humor, and whispered' 20 in my ear that if Will Wimble were with us, and saw those two chairs, it would go hard but he would get s tobacco -stopper out of one or t'other of them. Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon Edward Ill's sword, and, leaning upon the pommel of 25 it, gave us the whole history of the Black Prince j; conc'ading that, in Sir Richard Baker's opinion, Edward the Third was one of the gi'eatest princes that ever sat upon the English throne. We were then shown Edward the Confessor's tombv JO upon which Sir Roger acquainted us that he was the m^ ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS first who touched for the evil ; and afterwards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his head and told us there was fine reading in the casualties of that reign. Our conductor then pointed to that monument where there is the figure of one of our English kings without an 5 head; and upon giving us to know that the head, which was of beaten silver, had been stolen away several years eince, *'Some Whig, I warrant yon," says Sir Roger; *'you ought to lock up your kings better; they will carry off the body too, if you don't take care." i The glorious names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabeth gave the knight great opportunities of shining and of doing justice to Sir Richard Baker, who, as our knight observed with some surprise, had a great many kings in him whose monuments he had not seen in the 1 Abbey. For my own part, I could not but be pleased to see the knight show such an honest passion for the glory of his country, and such a respectful gratitude to the memory of its princes. 2 I must not omit that the benevolence of my good old friend, which flows out towards everyone he converses with, made him very kind to our interpreter, whom he looked upon as an extraordinary man ; for which reason he shook him by the hand at parting, telling him that s ;he should be very glad to see him at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talk over these matters with him more at leisure. L. XXXI SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY [No. 335. — Addison. Tuesday, March 25.] Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo Doctum imitatorem, et veras hinc ducere voces.' — Horace. My friend Sir Roger de Coverley, when we last met ' together at the club, told me that he 'had a great mind to see the new tragedy with me, assuring me at the same time that he had not been at a play these twenty 3 years. '*The last I saw, ^' says Sir Roger, ''was the 'Committee,' which I should not have gone to, neither, ■ had not I been told beforehand that it was a good Church of England comedy." He then proceeded to inquire of me who this distressed mother was, and, upon [) hearing that she was Hector's widow, he told me that her husband was a brave man, and that when he was a ' school -boy he had read his life at the end of the diction- ary. My friend asked me, in the next place, if there would not be some danger in coming home late, in case 5 the Mohocks should be abroad. ''I assure you," says he, "I thought I had fallen into their hands last night, for I observed two or three lusty black men that fol- lowed me half-way up Fleet Street, and mended their pace behind me in proportion as I put on to get away ^ I'll bid the trained actor look for a model of life and man- ners, and thence get truth of speech. 213 214 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS from them. Yon must know," continued the knight, with a smile, "I fancied they had a mind to hunt me, for I remember an honest gentleman in my neighbor- hood, who was served such a trick in King Charles the Second's time; for which reason he has not ventured 5 Mmself in town ever since. I might have shown tliem very good sport had this been their design; for, as I am an old fox-hunter, I should have turned and dodged, and have played them a thousand tricks they had never seen in their lives before." Sir Roger added that if 10 ^liese gentlemen had any such intention they did not •succeed very well in it; "for I threw them out," says he, "at the end of Norfolk Street, where I doubled the •corner and got shelter in my lodgings before they could imagine what was become of me. However," says the 15 -knight, "if Captain Sentry will make one with us to- aGaorrow night, and if you will both of you call upon me ta'bout four o'clock, that we may be at the house before it is full, I will have my own coach in readiness to attend you, for John tells me he has got the fore wheels mended. ' ' :q The captain, who did not fail to meet me there, at the appointed hour, bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for that he had put on the same sword which he made use of at the battle of Steenkirk.^ Sir Roger's servants, and among the rest my old friend the butler, had, I found, 35 provided themselves with good oaken plants to attend their master upon this occasion. When he had placed him in his coach, with myself at his left hand, the 1 A sly jest here. The English, including Captain Sentry, had been badly beaten at Steenkirk. SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY *215 . captain before him, and his butler at the head of his footmen in the rear, we convoyed him in safety to the playhouse, where, after having marched up the entry in good order, the captain and I went in with him, and 5 seated him betwixt us in the pit. As soon as the house was full, and the candles lighted, my old friend stood up and looked about him with that pleasure which a mind seasoned with humanity naturally feels in itself at the sight of a multitude of people who seem pleased with one 10 another, and partake of the same common entertainment. I could not but fancy to myself, as the old man stood up in the middle of the pit, that he made a very proper centre to a tragic audience. Upon the entering of Pyrrhus, the knight told me that he did not believe the 15 King of France himself had a better strut. I was, indeed, very attentive to my old friend's remarks, because I looked upon them as a piece of natural criticism; and was well pleased to hear him, at the conclusion of almost every scene, telling me that he could 20 not imagine how the play would end. One while he appeared much concerned for Andromache, and a little while after as much for Hermione ; and was extremely puzzled to think what would become of Pyrrhus. When Sir Eoger saw Andromache's obstinate refusal 25 to her lover's importunities, he whispered me in the ear, that he was sure she would never have him; to which he added, with a more than ordinary vehemence, *'You can't imagine, sir, what 'tis to have to do with a widow." Upon Pprhus his threatening afterwards to 30 leave her, the knight shook his head, and muttered to 216 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS himself, *'Ay, do if you can." This part dwelt so much upon my friend's imagination, that at the close of the third act, as I was thinking of something else, he whispered in my ear, "These widows, sir, are the most perverse creatures in the world. But pray," says he, 5 "you that are a critic, is the play according to your dramatic rules, as you call them? Should your people in tragedy always talk to be understood? Why, there is not a single sentence in this play that I do not know the meaning of." 10 The fourth act very luckily begun before I had time to give the old gentleman an answer. "Well," says the knight, sitting down with great satisfaction, "I suppose we are now to see Hector's ghost." He then renewed his attention, and, from time to time, fell a 15 praising the widow. He made, indeed, a little mistake as to one of her pages, whom at first entering he took for Astyanax ; but he quickly set himself right in that particular, though, at the same time, he owned he should have been very glad to have seen the little boy, "who," so says he, "must needs be a very fine child by the account that is given of him." Upon Hermione's going off with a menace to Pyrrhus, the audience gave a loud clap, to which Sir Roger added, "On my word, a notable young baggage." 25 As there was a very remarkable silence and stillness in the audience during the whole action, it was natural for them to take the opportunity of these intervals between the acts to express their opinion of the players and of their respective parts. Sir Roger, hearing a ao SIR ROGER AT THE PLAY 217 cluster of them praise Orestes, struck in with them, and told them that he thought his friend Pylades was a very sensible man: As they were afterwards applauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a second time: "And let me 5 tell you," says he, "though he speaks but little, I like the old fellow in whiskers as well as any of them." Captain Sentry, seeing two or three wags, who sat near us, lean with an attentive ear towards Sir Roger, and fearing lest they should smoke the knight, plucked him by the elbow, and whispered something in his ear that lasted till the opening of the fifth act. The knight was wonderfully attentive to the account which Orestes gives of Pyrrhus his death, and, at the conclusion of it, told me it was such a bloody piece of work that he was glad i it was not done upon the stage. Seeing afterwards Orestes in his raving fit, he grew more than ordinary serious, and took occasion to moralize (in his way) upon an evil conscience, adding, that Orestes in his madness looked as if he saw something. As we were the first that came into the house, so we were the last that went out of it; being resolved to have a clear passage for our old friend, whom we did not care to venture among the justling of the crowd. Sir Roger went out fully satisfied with his entertainment, and we guarded him to his lodgings in the same manner that we brought him to the playhouse; being highly pleased, for my own part, not only with the performance of the excellent piece which had been presented, but with the satisfaction which it had given to the good old man. L. XXXII WILL HONEYCOMB [No. 359.—Budgell. Tuesday, April 22.] Torva leaena lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam ; Florenteni cytisum sequitur lasciva capella.' — Virgil. As we were at the club, last night, I observed that my friend Sk Roger, contrary to his usual custom, sat very silent, and instead of minding what was said by the company was whistling to himself in a very thoughtful mood, and playing with a cork. I jogged Sir Andi-ew 5 Freeport, who sat between us, and as we were both observing him, we saw the knight shake his head and heard him say to himself, "A foolish woman! I can't believe it. " Sir Andrew gave him a gentle pat upon the shoulder, and offered to lay him a bottle of wine io( that he was thinking of the widow. My old friend started, and, recovering out of his brown study, told Sir Andrew that once in his life he had been in the right. In short, after some little hesitation. Sir Roger told us, in the fulness of his heart, that he had just 15 received a letter from his steward, which acquainted him that his old rival and antagonist in the county. Sir David Dundrum, had been making a visit to the widow. * The savage lioness hunts the wolf, the wolf the kid, the frisky kid the flowering clover. n WILL HONEYCOMB 219 ^'However," says Sir Eoger, "I can never think that she'll have a man that's half a year older than I am, and a noted Republican' into the bargain." Will Honeycomb, who looks upon love as his particular 5 province, interrupting our friend with a jaunty laugh, "I thought, Knight," says he, "thou hadst lived long enough in the world not to pin thy happiness upon one that is a woman and a widow. I think that with- out vanity I may pretend to know as much of the 10 female world as any man in Great Britain, though the chief of my knowledge consists in this, that they are not to be know^n." Will immediately, with his usual fluency, rambled into an account of his own amours. "I am now," says he, "upon the verge of fifty," 15 though, by the way, we all knew he was turned of three score. "You may easily guess," continued Will, "that I have not lived so long in the world without having had some thoughts of settling in it, as the phrase is. To tell you truly, I have several times tried my fortune 10 that way, though I can't much boast of my success. "I made my fii'st addresses to a young lady in the country; but when I thought things w^ere pretty well drawing to a conclusion, her father, happening to hear that I had formerly boarded with a surgeon, the old put s forbid me his house, and within a fortnight after married his daughter to a fox-hunter in the neighborhood. "I made my next applications to a widow, and attacked her so briskly that I thouglit myself within a * No doubt a Whig, but probably a very loyal subject of the Queen, notwithstanding Sir Roger's prejudice. 220 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS fortnight of her. As I waited upon her one morning, she told me that she intended to keep her ready money and jointure in her own hand, and desired me to call upon her attorney in Lyon's Inn, who would adjust with me what it was proper for me to add to it. I was so 6 rebuffed by this overture, that I never inquired either for her or her attorney afterwards. "A few months after, I addressed myself to a young lady who was an only daughter and of a good family. I danced with her at several balls, squeezed her by the lo hand, said soft things, and, in short, made* no doubt of her heart; and, though my fortune was not equal to hers, I was in hopes that her fond father would not deny her the man she had fixed her affections upon. But, as I went one day to the house in order to break the is matter to him, I found the whole family in confusion, and heard, to my unspeakable surprise, that Miss Jenny was that very morning run away with the butler. "I then courted a second widow, and am at a loss to this day how I came to miss her, for she had often 20( commended my person and behavior. Her maid, indeed, told me one day that her mistress had said she never saw a gentleman with such a spindle pair of legs as Mr. Honeycomb. ''After this I laid siege to four heiresses successively, 2g and being a handsome young dog in those days, quickly made a breach in then* hearts ; but I don't know how it came to pass, though I seldom failed of getting the daughter's consent, I could never in my life get the old people on my side. so WILL HONEYCOMB 221 "I could give you an account of a thousand other unsuccessful attempts, particularly of one which I made some years since upon an old woman, whom I had certainly borne away with flying colors if her relations 5 had not come pouring in to her assistance from all parts of England; nay, I believe I should have got her at last, had she not been carried off by an hard frost." As Will's transitions are extremely quick, he turned from Sir Roger, and, applying himself to me, told me 10 there was a passage in the book^ I had considered last Saturday which deserved to be writ in letters of gold ; and, taking out a pocket Milton, read the following lines which are part of one of Adam's speeches to Eve after the fall : r-,. 15 . "Oh! why did our Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven With spirits mascuHne, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of Nature, and not fill the world at once 20 With men, as angels, without feminine. Or find some other way to generate Mankind? This mischief had not then befaH'n, And more that shall befall, innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares, 25 And strait conjunction with this sex : for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake ; Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain. Through her perverseness ; but shall see her gain'd 30 By a far worse ; or if she love, withheld By parents ; or his happiest choice too late * The tenth book of Paradise Lost. 222 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS Shall meet already link'd, and wedlock-bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame ; Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace confound." Sir Roger listened to this passage with great attention, and desiring Mr. Honeycomb to fold down a leaf at the place, and lend him his book, the knight put it up in his pocket, and told us that he would read over those verses again before he went to bed. X. XXXIII SIR ROGER AT SPRING GARDEN [No. 383. -^Addison. Tuesday, May SO. '^ Criminibus debent hortos .^ —Juvenal. As I was sitting in my chamber and thinking on a subject for my next "Spectator," I heard two or three irregular bounces at my landlady's door, and upon the opening of it, a loud, cheerful voice 5 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 that it was my good friend Sir Roger's voice, and that I had promised to go with him on the water to Spring 10 Garden, 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 he would stay below till I had done. Upon my coming down, I found all the children of the family got about my old ;5 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 ^ They bind over their gardens to vice. 223 224 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS 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 than not employ an honest man that had 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." My old friend, after having seated himself, and trimmed 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. ^How do you explain Sir Roger's attitude toward the war^: See Introduction, Sections 20 and 31. SIR ROGER AT SPRING GARDEN 225 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 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 Eoger's character, his custom of saluting everybody that passes by him with a good-morrow or 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 neighbors that it is thought to have gone a good way in making him once or twice knight of the shire. He cannot forbear this exercise of benevolence even in town, when he meets with anyone 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 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. 226 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which is exquisitely pleasant at this time of year. When I con- sidered 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 1 not but look upon the place as a kind of Mahometan i 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. "Youij 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 nightingales!" Here he 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 I at so unexpected a familiarity, and displeased to be* interrupted in his thoughts of the widow, told her that 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 beef. When we had done eating, our- selves, 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. SIR ROGER AT SPRING GARDEN 227 As we were going out of the garden, my old friend, thinking himself obliged, as a member of the quorum, to^ animadvert upon the morals of the place, told the mistress of the house, who sat at the bar, that h^ should 5 be a better customer to her garden if there were more nightingales and fewer masks. I, XXXIV THE DEATH OF SIR ROGERS [No. 517.— Addison. Tliursday, October 23.] Heu pietas! heu prisca fides! ^ — Virgil. We last night received a Piece of ill News at our Club, which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I question not but my Eeaders themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in Suspence, Sir EoGER DE Coverlet is dead. He departed this Life at 5 his House in the Country, after a few Weeks Sickness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a Letter from one of his Cor- respondents in those Parts, that informs him the old Man caught a Cold at the County- Sessions, as he was very warmly promoting an Address of his own penning, in 10 which he succeeded according to his Wishes. But this Particular comes from a Whig- Justice of Peace, who was always Sir Koger's Enemy and Antagonist. I have Letters both from the Chaplain and Captain Sentry which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many w Particulai's to the Honour of the good old Man. I have likewise a Letter from the Butler, who took so much care ' In this chapter, the editor follows Addison in spelling, punctuation and the use of capitals. 2 Alas! for that old-time piety and faith. THE DEATH OF SIR ROGER 229 of me last Summer when I was at the Knight's House. As my Friend the Butler mentions, in the Simplicity of his Heart, several Circumstances the others have passed over in Silence, I shall give my Reader a Copy of his 5 Letter, without any Alteration or Diminution. '''Honoured Sir^ ** Knowing that you was my old Master's good Friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy News of his Death, which has afflicted the whole Country, as well 10 as his poor Servants, who loved him, I may say, better than we did our Lives. I am afraid he caught his Death the last County Sessions, where he would go to see Justice done to a poor Widow Woman, and her Fatherless Children, that had been wronged by a neigh- 15 bouring Gentleman; for you know, Sir, my good Master was always the poor Man's Friend. Upon his coming home, the first Complaint he made was, that he had lost his Eoast-Beef Stomach, not being able to touch a Sirloin, which was served up according to Custom ; and ■20 you know he used to take great Delight in it. From: that time forward he grew worse and worse, but still kept a good Heart to the last. Indeed, we were once in great Hope of his Recovery, upon a kind Message that was sent him from the Widow Lady whom he had 15 made love to the Forty last Years of his Life ; but this only proved a Light 'ning before Death. He has bequeathed to this Lady, as a token of his Love, a great Pearl Necklace, and a Couple of Silver Bracelets set with Jewels, which belonged to my good old Lady his I 230 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS Mother: He has bequeathed the fine white Gelding, that he used to ride a hunting upon, to his Chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him, and has left you all his Books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the Chaplain a very pretty Tenement* with good Lands 5 about it. It being a very cold Day when he made his Will, he left for Mourning, to every Man in the Parish, a great Frize-Coat, and to every Woman a black Riding- hood. It was a most moving Sight to see him take leave of his poor Servants, commending us all for our Fidelity, lol whilst we were not able to speak a Word for weeping. As we most of us are grown Gray-headed in our Dear Master's Service, he has left us Pensions and Legacies, which we may live very comfortably upon, the remain- ing part of our Days. He has bequeath'd a great deal is' more in Charity, which is not yet come to my Knowl- edge, and it is iDcremptorily said in the Parish, that he has left Mony to build a Steeple to the Church ; for he was heard to say some time ago, that if he lived two Years longer, Coverly Church should have a Steeple to 20! it. The Chaplain tells everybody that he made a very good End, and never speaks of him without Tears. He was buried according to his own Directions, among the Family of the Coverhfs, on the Left Hand of his Father, Sir Arthur. The Coffin was carried by Six of his 25 Tenants, and the Pall held up by Six of the Quorum: \ The whole Parish follow'd the Corps with heavy Hearts, and in their Mourning Suits, the Men in Frize, and the Women in Eiding-Hoods. Captain Se:n^try, my Master 's JSTephew, has taken Possession of the Hall-House, and 30 THE DEATH OF SIR ROGER 231 the whole Estate. When my old Master saw him a little before his Death, he shook him by the Hand, and wished him Joy of the Estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make good Use of it, and to pay the several Legacies, and the Gifts of Charity which he told him he had left as Quitrents upon the Estate. The Captain truly seems a courteous Man, though he says but little. He makes much of those whom my Master loved, and shews great Kindness to the old House-dog, that you know my poor Master was so fond of. It would have gone to your Heart to have heard the Moans the dumb Creature made on the Day of my Master's Death. He has ne'er joyed himself since; no more has any of us. 'Twas the melancholiest Day for the poor People that ever happened in Worcestershire. This being all from, ^''Honoured Sir, ^^Your most Sorrotvful Servant, "Edward Biscuit." "P. S. My Master desired, some Weeks before he died, that a Book which comes up to you by the Carrier should be given to Sir Andretu Freejjort, in his Name." This Letter, notwithstanding the poor Butler's Manner of writing it, gave us such an Idea of our good old Friend, that upon the reading of it there was not a dry Eye in the Club. Sir Andretu opening the Book, found it to be a Collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in particular the Act of Uniformity, with some Passages in it marked by Sir Roger^s own Hand. Sir Andretu found that thev related to two or three Points, which he 232 ROGER DE COVERLEY PAPERS had disputed with Sir Rogei^ the last time he appeared at the Club. Sir Andreiv^ who would have been merry at such an Incident on another Occasion, at the sight of the old Man's Hand-writing burst into Tears, and put the Book into his Pocket. Captain Sentry informs 5 me, that the Knight has left Rings* and Mourning for every one in the Club.^ 0. ^In 530 Will Honeycomb marries; in 541 the Templar abandons poetry, turns to the law, and gives up his com- panions; in 544 we see Captain Sentry in possession of Sir Roger's estate. Later (in 549) we learn that the clergyman has peacefully passed awa}', and Sir Andrew retires from busi- ness and from club life, leaving the Spectator alone. Finally (in 555) he too makes his bow, and for a year and a half the curtain falls.— D. O. S. Lowell, CHRONOLOGY 1672 Steele born (March 12) ; Addison born (May 1). 1684 Steele enters the Charter house. 1686 Addison enters the Charter house ; Eustace Budgell born. 1687 Addison enters Oxford. 1689 William and Mary crowned. 1690 Steele enters Oxford. 1692 Battles of Steenkirk and La Hogue. 1694 Steele enters the army. 1698 Queen Mary dies. 1699 Addison begins his foreign travels. 1700 Steele seriously wounds Captain Kelly in a duel. 1701 Steele publishes The Christian Hero. 1702 King William dies and Queen Anne is crowned. 1703 Addison concludes his foreign travels. 1704 Battle of Blenheim. 1705 Steele marries. 1706 Addison appointed an under secretary. Steele's first wife dies. 1707 Steele marries Mistress Mary Scurlock. 1708 Addison enters Parliament. Execution on Steele's house for arrears of rent. 1709 Addison becomes Secretary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; Budgell becomes Addison's secretary; Steele starts the Tatler and Addison becomes a contributor. 1710 Whigs go out of office and Tories take office. 1711 Tatler discontinued; Spectator begun. Addison buys a large estate in Warwickshire. 1712 The Spectator discontinued. 833 234 CHRONOLOGY 1713 Steele elected a member of Parliament. Steele resigns his office under the government and attacks the party in power. He is reelected a member of Parliament. ITU Steele is attacked in a pamphlet bv Swift and expelled from the House of Commons for ''uttering a seditious libel." Queen Anne dies and Greorge I. succeeds her. In consequence Steele is soon appointed to several lucrative offices. The Spectator is revived, probably by Budgell, for about three months. 1715 Steele reelected to Parliament. 1716 Addison marries Lady Warwick. 1717 Addison made a Secretary of State. 1718 Addison retires with a pension ; Steele loses his second wife. 1719 Addison and Steele quarrel. June 17, Addison dies. 17*2'2 Steele writes his best known play, Tlie Conscious Lovers. 17"24 Steele retires to "Wales. 17"29 September 1. Steele dies. 1737 Budgell commits suicide. GLOSSARY AXD INDEX TO IXTRODUCTIOX There are several reasons for this glossary of Addison and Steele's writings (1) Special allusions and proper names need explanation. (2; Many words and phrases once perfectly intelligib'.e have gone out of fashion in the last two cen- turies. (3i Like all well-educated men of their age, both Addison and Steele had had a far more rigorous training in Latin than in English grammar, and in consequence introduced Latin idioms into their works. (4; In common with their contemporaries, both writers used to think often about daily life in an abstract sort of way very foreign to the modern mind. (5) Finally, both were men of aflFairs as well as men of letters, and often wrote or dictated their essays hurriedly and sent them to the press without much revision. Nevertheless, there Is still sound sense in Dr. Johnson's famous saying: •■U'hoever wishes to attain an English style familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious must giv9 his days and nights to the study of Addison." Above him, more than he; p. 64, 1. 29. Abuse of the understanding, the un- scrupulous or malicious use of one's cleverness or mental ability; p. 63, 1. 3. Act of Parliament, p. 203, l.l9:Act of Uniformity, p. 231, 1. 29; acts pre- scribing the form of services to be used in the Church of England and setting forth the need of conformity to them. Addison, Dorothy; Introduction. Sec- tion 25. Addison: Introduction, Sections 25-28. K 31. 32, 33, 34. Address; here probably a formal peti- tion of some sort ; p. 22S. 1. 11. Agreeable, to be, to agree with; p. 65, 1. 3. Amiable; misused by Steele for 'be- loved." " popular " : p. 121. 1. 19. Air [of distinction], p. 64. 1. 23. An; the use of -an" before the aspirate h. as in 'an hundred.' p. 50, 1. 30, or be- fore the silent h. as in '■ an humorist," p. 81, 1. 17, is now archaic. Andromache; Introduction. Section 10, footnote. Answer; ke agrees with an atiomey to ansuer; note that "attorney," not " he," is the subject of " answer." The meaning Addison gives to this phrase would not be justified in modern usage; p. 57, 1. 8. Answerable, correspondent, suitable; p. 172, 1. 24. Application of them, how they are ap- plied: p. 6-5. 1. 21. Application to affairs, application to business; p. 92, 1. 15. Argument, subject matter and general method: p. 57. 1. 11. Aristotle; the great Greek philosopher and Longinus. a minor Greek critic 235 236 GLOSSARY and philosopher of the third century, were counted in the Spectator's day the classic authorities from ancient time on the criticism of art. Both discussed the proper portrayal of sublime passion in poetry and drama. Littleton, in the fifteenth century, and Coke, who wrote a commentary on him in the sixteenth, were the classic English authorities on law; p. 57, 11. 3, 4,5. Army; Introduction, Section 21. As; as [of] his particular friend; p. 81, 1. 5: [as] unaccountable as: p. 65, 1.14. Assizes; Introduction, Section 18. Assurance, insurance; p. 198. 1. 10. Astyanax; Introduction, Section 10, footnote. Author who published his works. Dr. Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Boches- ter; p. 121,11. 16, 17. Baker's Chronicle; Introduction, Section 6. Basket hilt, a sword hilt which covers the hand and protects it from injury; p. 96, 1.2. Beau; Introduction, Sections 2, 4, 9. Be lengthening, lengthen; p. 107,1. 26; be tossing, toss; p. 138, 1. 20. Bed ; brought to bed of a judge; soon to give birth to one who should finally become a judge; p. 60, 1. 9. Beforehand; to be beforehand, to be supplied with money in advance of one's needs; p. 85, 1. 4. Black, dark-complexioned; p. 49, 1. 3. Blackmore, Sir Richard; Steele's eulogy of him is probably not quite serious. He was an estimable phy- sician but very tedious poet of the day, taught school for a time and wrote three epic poems of from ten to twelve books each. The poem to which Steele here refers was an at- tempted demonstration in verse of the existence and providence of God? p. 65, 1. 25. Blenheim; Introduction, Section 25. Blot, in backgammon a piece or man exposed and liable to be taken; p. 52, 1. 21. Bowling-green; Introduction, Sectxon 17. Break, fail; p. 197,1.8. Brought, bore; p. 96, 1. 12, Buckley's; Buckley was the publishec of the Spectator, also of the DailiJ Courant, the first daily newspaper in England; p. 54,1. 19. Budgell; Introduction, Section 34. Bully Dawson ; " a noted sharpen swaggerer about town, especially in Blackfriars purlieus."— OWj/s; p. 56/ 1.3. Button's; Introduction, Sections 12, 26. .' By reason, because; p. 55, 1. 16: by [reason of] thai custom; p. Ill, 1. 15. ♦'Campaign, The,** Introduction Section 25. Cassandra; (1) Introduction, Section 6 (2) A character in the Iliad, doomed tc foretell events and never to be be- lieved; p. 181, 1. 22. Cast, defeated; p. 157, 11. 23,21: Cast- clothes; Sir Boger's opinion on cas clothes is very ambiguously ex pressed; p. 85, 1. 28. ••Cato;" Introduction, Section 25. Chamber-counsellor, one who give! legal advice in his own chamber; or olfices but does not address th< courts; p. 61, 1.29. Change; see Exchange. Chaplain; Introduction, Section 19. Character, characterization; p. 91, 1.4. Charge, expense; p. 196, 1. 24. Charles's time, Charles the Second'! time, one of great profligacy in thi court; p. 69, I. 27. Charterhouse; Introduction^ Sectioi 29. GLOSSARY 237 Child's; Introduction, Section 12. Chocolate Houses; Introduction, Sec- tion 12, •♦Christian Hero, The;'* Introduc- tion, Sections 6, 30. Church; Introduction, Sections 14, 19. Chymical, chemical; p. 154, 1. 6. Circumstance, circumstances; p. 64, 1.25. Citizens; Introduction, Section 13. City; Introduction, Section 13, Clubs; in the early eighteenth century, informal associations of men who gathered on stated occasions at some inn or coffee-house, usually for politi- cal chat as well as for good fellowship. The following burlesque rules drawn up in one issue of the Spectator betray something of their character: " I. Every Member at his first evening in shall lay down his Two Pence. II. Every Member shall fill his Pipe out of his own Box. III. If any Member ab- sents himself he shall forfeit a Penny for the Use of the Club, unless in case of Sickness or Imprisonment. . . . VIIIo If a Member's Wife comes to fetch him Home from the Club, she shall speaK to him without the Door." P. 54, 1, 16. See also Introduction, Sec- tion 25. Coaches; Introduction, Section 15. Cocoa Tree; Introduction, Section 12. Coffee-Houses; Introduction, Sections 11,12,26. Coke; see Aristotle. Come at, get a chance at; p, 205, 1. 3. Commerce, dealings; p. 135, 1. 14. Communicates, shares ; p. 198, 1 17: note also the peculiar use on p. 181, 1. 21, Compass, due limits, one's means; p. 119, 1. 17. Complexion, the general appearance of one's face or features t a rare use); p. 54, 1. 8. Concerned for, anxious for, concerned about; p, 63,1.5. Confidence, temerity; p. 103, 1, 24, Converse, associate familiarly; Con- versed in the world, having mixed in the world; p.l47, 1. 20. Correspondence, dealings; p. 90, 1.22. Country dance; this dance, called the "Roger de Coverley," was similar to the present Virginia Reel (Country •^contra) ; p. 55, i. 4. See also Introduc- tion, Section 8. Country gentleman. Introduction, Sections 16, 17, 18, Cowley, Abraham; a diplomatist, poet and essayist of the generation just previous to Addison and Steele, In his own day his verse was regarded as a model of cultivated poetry, and his essays must still be '•egarded as a model of correct and simple prose. He aimed to make "moderation in all things* attractive to his readers. " Not he who blindly follows all his Pleasures," he asserted, " is the true Gentleman, but he who rationally guides them.'* " If I want Skill and Force to restrain the Beast that I ride upon, tho' I bought it and call it my own, yet in the truth of the matter I am at that time rather his man than he my horse" . o. 121 , 1. 13 Cried on. extolled, "praised to the skies J, 171, 1 22. Cross, tc aaake the sign of the cross on; p, 181,i 4, Cry, a pack of hounds, so called from the fact that they were often selected so that the voices of the entire pack would blend in a pleasant harmony; p. 129, 1. 28. Customs, custom-house duties; p. 198, 1. 11. Dancing; Introduction, Section 8. Dantzic; the sickness at Dantzic re- ferred to here was a return in 1709 of the same sort of plague which had de- vastated London in 1665. From 1683 te 238 GLOSSARY 1704 practically no cases of the plague existed in eastern Europe; in the latter year, however, it began to spread again; p. 209,1. 14. Day in liondon: Introduction, Section 11. Defendant's witnesses; Sir Roger made a tell-tale slip of the tongue, for the plaintiff's witnesses would naturally come first; p. 113 1. 17. Demonstrative, capable of demonstra- tion; p. 151, 1. 2. Desperate, causing despair in others; p. 115; 1. 8. Dictated [to] ; the indirect object of the active voice is here made the subject of the passive; p. 164, 1 29. Dignity, an honoxable office, rank, or title; an honor; p 50, 1. 13. Dipped, involved in debt; mortgaged (archaic slang) ; p. 119, 1. 2. Discoveries, disclosures; p. 64, 1. 10. Note also the use of the verb discover in this same sense. Distinction sake, distinction's sake; p. 126, 1. 5. Distrest Mother, Introduction, Sec- tion 10. Dobson, Austin; Introduction, Sec- tion 30, footnote, and Section 33. Dryden; Introduction, Sections 6, 12. Dyer's Letter; Introduction, Section 23. Easy, comfortable; p. 60, 1. 15. Economy, household management; p. 52, 1. 19. Either; according to modern usage either is misplaced on p. 141, 1. 1, and p 171, 1. 16. Engaged, attached to; committed In his affections to (not used in the modern sense of betrothed or prom- ised); p. 209,1.27. Engine, apparatus, machine; p. 123, 1.13. Entertain [the reader]; p. 192, 1 28. Equal, equable; p. 85, 1. 1. Equipage; a comprehensive term in- cluding one's dress, retinue, and establishment; that part of one's belongings which is used about or in the neighborhood of one's person for the display of one's rank or wealth , (obsolete) ; p. 64, 1. 26. On p. 190, 1. 11. j sarcastically applied to a single at- tendant. Esteem; in the old knighVs esteem, very much esteemed by the oldi knight; p. 81,1. 13. Esteemed, merely* esteemed; p.56, 1 17. Eugene, Prince; Introduction, Sec-' tion 21. Evil, scrofula, supposed to be curable s by the touch of a sovereign's hand, or even by the touch of the sover- eign's costume; p. 212, 1.1. Exceeding, exceedingly; p. 101, 1. 18. Except [for] ; p. 142, 1 9. Exchange; Introduction, Sections 9, 13. Exert the justice of the peace, exer- cise his authority as justice of the peace; p. 180,1. 4. Fable; See Shakspere's Coriolanus, i. 1; p. 194, 1. 5. Fans; Introduction, Section 5. Fielding, Beau Robert, Introduc- tion, Section 9. Figure, make a; (1) produce a marked effect; p. 58, 1. 6; ( 2) occupy a distin- guished position; p. 59, 1. 25. Find [it] ; p. 133, 1. 8. Fine, see Tenement. Fleer, laugh mockingly at; p. 192, 1. L Fops; Introduction, Sections 2, 4, 9. Forbes, Lord; Introduction, Section 12.: Fortune; heiress-hunting was so com- mon in the eighteenth century that tlie heiress was looked upon not only as having but as being a fortune; p.i 141, 1. 28. Fortune was tiie only dif- ference [that there had been] be- tween tliem; between the servants on GLOSSARY 239 the one hand and the masters in their former glory on the other. In other words, the servants emulated and equalled their masters in character and fineness of feeling; p. 87, 1. 16. Four shillings in the pound, the amount of the tax on land at the time; p. 120, 1. 6. Fox-hail, Vauxh all, a customary desig- nation of Spring Garden; p. 224, 1.16. See Spring Garben. Frame, structure; nicer frame, finer, more delicate structure; p. 151, 1. 14. Furze brake, thicket of furze; p. 130, 1. 30. Gallantry, courtliness of behavior; p. 66, 1. 23, Gallery; every great English house has a gallery of family portraits; p. 94, 1. 1. Game law; Introduction, Section 16, footnote, and Section 18. Gazette; Introduction, Section 30. The oflacial publication of the British gov- ernment, containing all important official appointments and court hon- ors. Generation; in their generation, after their kind; according to their lights; the limitations of their species being considered (Luke xvi. 8) ; p. 153, 1.10, Gibbets; Introduction, Section 15. Give myself up to, yield my judgment to; p.103, 1. 12, Go-cart, "a small framework with cast- ors or rollers and without a bottom, in which children learn to walk with- out danger of falling."— Cenfurj/ Dic- tionary; p. 96, 1. 10. Grecian, The; Introduction, Section 12. Grottoes; Introduction, Section 7. Guelphs, adherents of the people and the Popes in their contests with the German Emperor and the aristocracy in the Middle Ages. The GhibeUines were adherents of the Emperors; p. 172 1. 30. Habits; (1) styles orkindsof costumes; p. 60, I. 21: (2) Costumes, as in the modern phrase "riding-habits"; p. 106, 1. 9. Half pike, a short pike carried by offi- cers of infantry : p. 190, 1. 9. Halifax, Lord; Introduction, Section 32, footnote. Having destroyed, he having de- stroyed; p. 129, 1. 9. The same error in syntax occurs again later in the volume. Head-dress; Introduction, Section 5, footnote. Hector; Introduction, Section 10, foot- note. Hermione; Introduction, Section 10, footnote. Him, refers to " Scarecrow"; p. 64, 1. 29. His, I^rrhxis fiL'i; a mistaken and pedantic form for Pyrrhus's; p. 215, 1.29, Humor; (I) animal fluid. The four cardinal humors of the ancient physi- cians were blood, choler (yellow bile)^ phlegm and melancholy (black bile), regarded by them as determining by their conditions and proportions a per- son's physical and mental qualities and disposition; p. 124, 1. 9. Hence (2) one's disposition as distinguished from that of other people, one's mood; p. 56, 1. 11. (3) oddity of behavior; p. 55, 1. 12. (4) humors; whimsical inclinations, tastes founded upon temperament, not upon reason. Humorists, persons acting upon their own whims or humors rather than conventionally; persons having an odd way of their own; p. 60, 1. 10. Hungary water, a popular compound of spirits of wine, lavender and rose' mary, which was used both as a lotion, and as smelling salts are used to- 240 GLOSSARY day; indeed to many ladies it was a sort of cure-all;, p. 76, 1. 7. Hunting; Introduction, Sections 16, 17. Hunts, tiunts with; p. 90. 1. 14. Husband, a frugal person, one who manages his own or another's prop- erty with prudence; p. 86, 1. 14. Ill, bad; p. 64, 1. 5. Impertinent, irrelevant; p. 104, 1. 30. Impertinently, unduly; p. 197, 1. 14. Indifferent, immaterial; p. 106, 1. 12. Indifferent actions, actions neither obviously moral nor obviously im- moral; p. 65, 1. 2. Inner Temple; see Inns of Court. Inns of Court: the four Inns of Court (p. 70, 1. 5) in London were (and indeed, still are) four societies or col- leges of lawyers and law-students, which had the sole right of con- ferring the degree of barrister at law. These four Inns were named, from the halls of residence and meeting places of their members, Lincoln's Inn and Gray's Inn (anciently be- longing to the Earls of Lincoln and Gray) and the Inner (p. 56, 1. 27) and Middle Temple (once the prop- erty of the Knights Templars). A member of either the Inner or Middle Temple was called a Templar. New Inn (p. 57, 1. 25) was attached to the Middle Temple and was known as an inn of chancery. Pleasant walks and gardens were connected with these Inns, and Will Honeycomb and Sir Roger enjoyed them. Lincoln's- Inn-Fields (p. 64, 1. 9) was a pub- lic square neighboring Lincoln's Inn. "These celebrated fields were frequented froii^ a very early period down to the year 1735 by wrestlers, bowlers, cripples, beggars and idle boys." Inns; Introduction, Section 15. Intelligence, news ; p. 189, 1. 17. Intentively, attentively; p. 65, 1. 8. Interest, whatever makes for one's political or social advantage or wel- fare; one's prestige, following, back- ing and support; p. 173, 1. 5. Jack, a pike: p. 89, 1 11. Jetting, jutting out (now obsolete); p. 95, 1 3. Johnson, Dr.; Introduction, Sec- tion 3. Jonathan's; Introduction, Section 12, Journals; Introduction, Section 23 Judgment, a token of divine displeas- ure; p. 170,1. 11. Justice of the Peace; Introduction, Section 18. Kelly, Captain; Introduction, Section 30. Kennels; Introduction, Section 2. Kit-cat Club; Introduction, Section 25. Knight of the shire; Introduction, Section 18. Labored, formerly used transitively; still used in the phrase " to labor a point"; p. 125, 1.8, Laertes; in the eighteenth century, one used classic names at convenience, as we should use Smith, Jones or Robin- son. Laertes was the father of Ulysses and Irus was a beggar of Ithaca re- markable for his gluttony. By his choice of names Steele betrays his own sympathies ; p. 120, 1. 3. La Hogue, a naval victory won by the English and the Dutch over the French. The English pursued the French ships into the harbor and annihilated them there; p. 224, 1. 18. Landed Estates; Introduction, Sec- tions 13, 14. League, a league formed in France a few years after the massacre of St. Bartholomew to oppose the Hugue- GLOSSARY 241 aots and Henry of Navarre; p. 173, 1.1. Leonora; Introduction, Section 6. Lincoln's -Inn -Fields; see Inns of Court. Little Britain [street]; p. 54. 1.20. Littleton; see Aristotlk. Loaden, archaic form for '* loaded"; p. 127, 1.12. Loclce; Introduction, Section 6. London Streets; Introduction, Sec- tion 2. Longinus; see Aristotle. tfade, trained; made a hunting dog of; p. 90, 1.18. ffade no doubt of her heart, made myself confident of possessing her heart; p. 220, 1. 11. Harch 17 10-11; until 1752, the legal year began in England on March 25, though the year as it was custom- arily reckoned began on January 1. In dates previous to 1752, occurring between January 1 and March 24 In- clusive, two years are often given, the first being "old style" or the legal date, the second "new style" or the popular date; p. 49, 1. 1. lark, thirteen shillings four pence; p. 202, 1. 2. larlborough, Duke of; Introduction, Sections 21, 25. [ask, a woman wearing a mask; p. 226, 1.16. le; the indirect object, represented in Latin by the " dative of advantage or disadvantage." Other instances of the same locution can be found in these papers; p. 82, 1. 4. lean, vulgarly lacking in the quali- ties befitting one's rank (not neces- sarily underhand) ; p. 85, L 13, [easure of a Pyramid ; taken of coui-se by trigonometry. The whole passage is a good-natured hit at a noted geometrician and astronomer of the time who attempted to estab- lish the antiquity of English weights and measures by evidences drawn from one of the pyramids; p. 51, 1. 17. Mechanic being, mechanism with no Intelligence or initiative of its own. Is a mechanic being; is to be a piece of mechanism; p. 122, 1. 9. Medicina Gymnastica; written by Francis Fuller; p 126,1.27. Middlesex; a large portion of London is in Middlesex County; p. 225. 1. 28. Mode; (1) Prevalent fashion or style; p. 55, 1. 13: (2) fashionable behavior; p. 147, 1. 13. (Very common uses of the word in Addison's day.) Modish, fashionable; p. 147, 1. 1. Mohocks; Introduction, Section 3. Moll White; an act was still in force in Addison's day decreeing death to whoever dealt with evil spirits or invoked them, whereby any persons were killed or lamed, etc. Under this law two women were executed in Northampton just before the Spectator began to be pub- lished. Not long after (1716), a Mrs. Hicks and her daughter were hanged at Huntingdon for selling their souls to the devil, making their neigh- bors vomit pins, and raising a storm so that a certain ship was almost lost. •^Condensed from W. H. Wills A popu- lar test for discovering whether an old hag were a witch or not was to toss her into a pond. If she floated, she was a witch. Any cat or dog she might own was believed to be the devil in disguise, and any broomstick or switch she might own was supposed to be the carriage on which she rode on her nightli- errands. Witches, how- ever, varied in character. Black witches could do nothing but evil, white witches, though prankish at times, could do no real harm, and gray witches could work both good 24^ GLOSSARY and evil. According to some super- stitions, Lapland was overrun with witches, a fact which explains the reference to it in No. 117 of the Spec- tator; pp. 135-139. 3ionmoutli, Duke of, the scapegrace son of Charles II., likened by Dryden to Absalom; p. 61, 1. 2 " The queen . . it seems, was at Windsor at the late St. George's feast there, and the Duke of Monmouth dancing with her with his hat in his hand, the king came in and kissed him, and made him put on his hat, which everybody took notice of."— Pepys's Diary, April 27, 1663. Murrain, a disease affecting domestic animals, especially cattle. Murrain to her, plague take her; p. 113,1. 13. Mrs., abbreviation for "mistress," formerly applied as a title of respect to any woman or girl, whether mar- ried or unmarried; p. 189, 1 9. Namby-pamby; Introduction, Section 10. Nature, capacity; p. 81, 1; 9. Nature, Love of; Introduction; Section 7. Navy; Introduction, Section 21. Near, nearly; p. 66, 1. 22. New Inn, see Inns of Cottbt. Newsletter; Introduction, Section 23. Newspapers; Introduction, Section 23. Nice in this particular, fastidious in this respect: p. 129, 11. 29, 30. Night in London; Introduction, Sec- tion 3. Novel, a short story after the Spanish or Italian manner, with love as its mo- tive; p, 162, 1. 23. Oblige, fprce; p. 61,1. 28. Occasion, field for conversation; sub- ject; p.86,1.2. Of. (1) about; p. 99,1. 1; (2) of [being]; p. 50, 1. 23; (3) Of [having] ; p. 63, 1. 6. Offices, duties or services ; p. 98, 1 8. Officious, ready to be of service; obll-' ging; now generally used in an invidi- ous sense; p. 90. 1. 19. Ogilby's Virgil and other books men* tioned in Chapter Vr; Introduction, Section 6, Oldfleld, Mrs.; Introduction, Section 9. One or otlier ; modern usage would re- quire "'one or another"; p. 70, 1. 24. Opened, barked on view or scent of the game; p. 131, 1. 29. Order; in order to, with a view to; p. 163, 1. 22. Ordinary, ordinarily; p. 217, 1. 16. Orestes; Introduction, Section 10, foot*: note. Others; this word is here not only re-: dundant but illogical; p. 119, 1. 24. Out; to print myself out; to manifest myself clearly in print; it does nob mean to keep on printing until I have nothing left to say; p. 53. 1. 13. Out of; (i) from; made a sermon oit* of, preached a sermon from; p. 201J 1. 29: (2) away from; take a brute oit* of, deprive a brute of; p. 153, 1. 13. Out of Nature, out of harmony with nature; unnatural; p. 121, 1. 11. Pad, a horse with an easy pace; p. 1. 11. Pamphleteers ; Introduction, Section ! Particular; (1) peculiar, odd; p. 77, 1. 8r (2) special; p. 114, 1. 25: (3) occasion- ally used as a mere intensive; p. 72,1 1.24: (4) for the phrase "particulaij persons," p. 65, 1. 16, a modern writeij would use "individuals": (5) detailed; p. 103, 1. 4. Particularities, peculiarities, humors; p. 107, 1. 25. Parts, 'abilities, faculties. The word is not much used in this sense to-day; p. 50, 1. 25. Pass, impose; p. 65, 1. 24. Patches ; Introduction, Section 5. GLOSSARY 243 Patron; (1) In the first half of the eighteenth century men depended for advancement more avowedly than to- day upon the political and social in- fluence of the great, that is, upon wealthy noblemen, statesmen or eccle- siastics; p. 59, 1. 27: (2) one who ap- points to an ecclesiastical office; p. 109, 1.21. Petticoats; Introduction, Sec. 5. Phillips, Ambrose; Introduction, Sec- tion 10. Piece, of a, all in one piece; p. 136, 1. 28. Plants, cudgels: p. 214, 1 26. Play, The; Introduction, Sections 8, 9, 10. Pleasant upon, good-naturedly Jocose or merry at the expense of; p. 80, 1. 25. Pole; Introduction, Section 17. Polite; (1) fashionable; slcilled in the conventional usages of society; pol- ished; p. 65,1. 19: (2) obliging, cour- teous, as in the phrase a "polite country squire"; p. 147, 1. 21. Pope; Introduction, Section 26. Pope's Procession; an anti-Catholic demonstration celebrated eveiy seven- teenth of November by the Whig pop- ulace; p. 204. 1. 3. The year Sir Roger de Coverley went up to London to see Prince Eugene, the proces- sion threatened to assume extra- ordinary proportions, for the Whigs were violently agitated by fears that peace would be made with France and that the Tories were plotting to restore the Roman Catholic Stuarts to the throne in place of Queen Anne On the night of the sixteenth, the Tories raided Drury Lane theatre and carried oflF all the Whig effigies and paraphernalia. Postman, a journal edited by a French Protestant, Fonvive; it had some reputation for its foreign news and correspondence; p. 51, 1.30. Postulatums, assumptions; p. 172, 1 18. Powell; Introduction, Section 8. Prejudice of education, the bias oj bent of mind produced by one's trairv ing or education; p. 101, 11. 25, 26. Prentice, be apprenticed to a master who should teach him a trade. To send the coachman's grand.son " to prentice" required not only the exer else of Sir Roger's influence, taut probably a money payment from him as well; p. 87, 1. 24. Present laws, laws regulating man ir* this life, before liis death and resur rection; p. 124, 1, 17. Pretty instance, a pleasing and apt illustration. (The use of the word, "pretty" in this sense is now somewhat pedantic); p. 67, 1. 6. Principle, political belief or synnv pathy: p. 178, 1, 3. In a different prin cipie. considered in the light of the fact that his political principles are differ- ent from one's own; p. 171, 1 27. We look at a political opponent, Addison says in effect, not as he really is, but as if he were surrounded and envel- oped by his principles; and those principles we never see fairly, because we looli at them through our own prejudices. A man so seen looks dis- torted to us, like the stick which wo thrust into water and see through two different mediums, air and water. Addi-son's flgure of speech is not at all consistent. Proper, appropriate, apt; p. 05, 1. fl. Proper scenes, appropriate places; p. 10, 1. 7. Prospect, to have a prospect of pub- lic good, to be done in the expecta- tion that it will benefit the public; p. 65, 1. 1. Prue; Introduction, Section 32, foot- note. Punch and Judy; Introduction, Sec- tion 8. Put up, started up, started from its cover or concealment: p. 132. 1, 4 244 GLOSSARY Pyrrhus; Introduction, Section 10, foot- note. Quail-pipe, a pipe for imitating and alluring quail; p. 92, 1. 6. Quality; (1) family connections; de- scent, rank or social repute of one's family, especially noble rank, good blood; p. 71. 1. 5; (2; class; p. 63, 1.4. Quarter Sessions; Introduction, Sec- tion 18. Quick, active, nimble; p. 63, 1, 19. Quit rents; so called because by the payment of them the payer gets quit and free of all other service; p. 231, 1.6. Quorum; Introduction, Section 18. Rallies the soldier's honor, jests at the soldier's sense of honor; p. 195, 1. 30. Recovered herself from one eye to another, from exchanging glances with one person, turned away as if recollecting herself, only to exchange glances with another; p. 113, 1. 11. Relapsed, is relapsed, has relapsed; p. 148, 1. 30 Resolved, was resolved, had resolved; p. 51, 1. 7. Rid the tournament over, rode over the tournament or tilt yard; p. 95, 1. 20. Ridiculous, made the subject of ridi- cule (a strained use of the word; ; p. 67, 1.3. Riglit we had of taking place, etc., right of way we had over all vehicles coming from London since we were going up to London; p. 192. 1. 25. Ringing; Addison strains here for a pun on dumb-bell; p. 127, 1. 5. Rings and mourning, p. 232, 1. 6. A legacy quite in accordance with the custom of the times, as one may judge from the following quotations: "Mr. Pepys has been for neare forty years so much my particular friend that Mr. Jackson sent me compleat mourn- ing, desiring me to be one to hold up the pall at his magnificent obsequies, but my indisposition hindered me from doing him this last office." "Afternoon at the Funeral of my ex- cellent and dear friend, Dr. Thomas Gale, Dean of York, who was interred with great solemnity: lay in state, 200 rings (besides scarfs to bearers and gloves to all) given in the room where I was, which yet could not con- tain the company."— Dta;'?/ of Ealph Thoresby, May 26, 1703, April 15. 1702. Rochester, Lord, and Sir George Etherege, p. 56, 11. 1, 2. '• Both ' fine gentlemen ' who lived fast lives. The first was a favorite of Charles II. He died at thirty-one, confessing to Bishop Burnet that he hadfor'fi;-e years been continually drunk\ The second was a witty writer of some ability {Spec. No. 51), but he fell down stairs while intoxicated and broke his neck. Perhaps it was well that Sir Boger became very serious for a year and a half."— Z). O. S. Lowell. Romp, a boisterous girl, a hoyden; p. 96, 1. 27. Rose [tavern], a haunt of dramatic authors, notorious for its scenes of vio- lence. Here, seven months after the date of this paper (No. 2), the seconds arranged the duel in which the Duke of Hamilton and the unsavory Lord Mohun were both mortally wounded; p. 57, 1.28. St. Anne's Lane; so named from a church in the vicinity dedicated to the mother of the Virgin and called in her honor St. Anne's; p. 169, 1. 7. St. James; Introduction, Section 12. Salutes, salutations; p. 54,1. 4. Same condition [as I am]; p. 116, U \ GLOSSARY 245 Saracen's Head, p. 160, 1. 9; "When our countrymen came home from fighting with the Saracens, and were beaten bj' them, they pictured them with big, terrible faces (as you still see the sign of the Saracen's Head is ), when in truth they were like other men. But this they did to save their own credit."— iSeideyi's Table Talk. Says; for '-said" (now only vulgar); p. 213, 1. 15. Scanderbeg; a celebrated combatant against the Turks; he died in 1467; p. 201, 1, 11. "When Scanderbeg Prince of Epirus was dead, the Turks, who had but too of ten felt the Force of his Arm in the Battles he had won from them, imagined that by wearing a Piece of his Bones near their Heart they should be animated with a Vigour and Force like to that which inspired him when living.''''— Spectator. Seat, a dwelling and its grounds as in the modern phrase "country seat"; p. 88,1. 13. Securing, making secure; p. 203, 1. 19. Sensations, physical sensations; p. 64, 1.13. Settled; here used figuratively. Sir Roger means simply that the walk was so closely associated in his mind with the widow as to seem to him to pertain to her, to belong to her; p. Ill, 1.9. Service; see With his service. Shall; (1) a nice use of the word to de- note customary or inevitable action; p. 147,1. 21. (2) Shall should be used as Lhe future auxiliary, wherever it can be used without appearing in any way assertive cr dictatorial. Is the use on p. 196, 1. 26, justifiable? Sheriff of the county; Introduction, Section 18. Slash, a cut in the stuff of which a garment is made to show a brighter colored material underneath— a de- vice much used in the sixteenth and early part of the seventeenth cen* tury; p. 97,1. 1. Smoke, quiz (old slang) ; p. 217, 1. 9. Smoky, keen at detection (old slang); p. 192,1. 14, So long; tautological here; p. 157, 1. 20. Softest, kindliest; p. 69, 1. 3. Soho Square, a fashionable quarter of the city when Sir Roger visited it; later he went to quieter lodgings in Norfolk Street; p. 55, 1. 15. Sonneteer; Sir Roger evidently con- siders literary work a very lackadai- sical affair: p. 97, 1. 5. See Introduc- tion, Section IS and footnote. Species, the human species; p. 125, 1.12. Spectator, The: Introduction, Sections 1,24,25, 30,35. Speculations; (1) observations on, or investigations of, truth; p. 150,1.11: (2) used also to denote the successive numbers or issues of the Spectator; p. 69,1. 1. Spleen, ill-humor, low spirits; melau' choly; p. 127,1. 19. Spring, to start up or rouse; p. 186, 1. 2. Spring Garden; "A prettily cultivated plantation, laid out with walks and arbors: the nightingale sang in the trees; wild roses could be gathered in the hedges and cherries in the orchard". It became a fashion to stroll in the garden alleys and eat a lobster or a syllabub. Rude gal- lants from the city bent on escapades, would thrust themselves into the sup- per arbors and in the close walks of the garden; " the windings and turn- ings in the little wilderness were so intricate that the most experienced mothers often lost themselves in look- ing for their daughters." Eighteenth century literature is full of adventures that took place in these and similar pleasure grounds; p. 223. 1. 9. Squire; Introduction, Section 18. Squire's; Introduction, Section 12. 246 GLOSSARY staked, impaled on a stake or fence; p. 129, 1. 20. Started, p. 185, 1. 18: good starts: p. 65. 1.8; bunting terms. Steele; iBtfoduction, Sections 6, 12, 27, Jteeukirk, a signal defeat of the Eng- lish king, Augusta, 1692, by the French army, though he had at first surprised and routed them. To commemorate the celerity with which the French generals liad dressed themselves for battle the Parisian fops wore their cravats in apparent disorder and called them Steenkirks. The English fops soon imitated their example. The battle therefore had some social distinction; p. 214, 1. 24. Stomach, disposition, especially a haughty disposition; p. 119, 1. 4. Stone-horse, a stallion (archaic and colloquial) ; p. 129, 1, 20. Stop-hounds. "When one of these hounds found the scent, he gave no- tice of his good fortune by deliberately squatting to impart more effect to his deep tones and to get wind for a fresh start."— IK. H. Wills. The siop- hound was actually used only in stag- hunting; p. 129, 1. 25. Stories of a cock and a bull, cock and bull stories; p. 188,1. 22 Streets; Introduction, Section 2. Street signs; Introduction, Section 2 Stripped; have his livery taken oflf him. lose his place, be dismissed; p. 85, 1. 12. Stuarts; Introduction, Section 20. Such a, a certain (a colloquial phrase); p. 98, 1. 18. *« Supplement," a periodical news- paper; p. 204, 1. 29. Swift, Jonathan; Introduction, Sec- lions 11, 19, 26. Sydenham, Thomas, from 1660 to 1670, the chief physician of London; p. 126, 1.23. Tansy, p. 116, 1. 21 ; " Take about a dozea new-laid eggs, beat them up with three pints of cream, strain them through a coarse linen cloth, and put in of the strained juices of endive, spinach, sor-i rel and tansy each three spoonfuls;, half a grated nutmeg, four ounces ofi line sugar, and a little salt and roserj water. Put it, with a slight laying! of butter under it, into a shallow) pewter dish, and bake it in a moder-d ately heated oven. Scrape over it loafi sugar, sprinkle rose-water, and serve it up."— ^ Closet 0/ Harities, 1706. Target of the gentlemen, theshield;ti came within the target, struck thel shield with his lance; p. 95,11. 17,18. Tatler, The; Introduction, Sections 30j^ 31. Templar; see Inns of Court, also In*) troduction. Section 9. Temple Bar, a famous gateway int London dividing Fleet Street from thej street called the Strand; p. 225, 1. 5. Tenement, a piece of property; p. 230.i 1. 5. Tenement falls: often in the law of this period, when a tenanfcj wished to turn over the lease of his| property (or tenement as it was legallyj called) to another man, he was obliged to pay a sum of money or fee (legally! called a fine) to the landlord for the privilege. This money Sir Rogei often used to establish or settle old servants comfortably for life. Wheu so used Steele designates the money a "settlement"; p. 86, 1. 18. Terminates his satisfactions . . . within the supply of his own ne- cessities, is perfectly happy so long as his own selfish desires are supplied, p. 64, 1. 17. Tliat; such . . . that == such . „ . as; p. 176,1. 2. That [passage] of Martial; a common ellipsis in the days of the Spectator; p. 117, 1. 7. GLOSSARY Theatre, The; Introduction, Sections 8,9,10. This way, in this way; p. 129. 1. 14. Those kings; kings mentioned by Jo- sephus in his Antiquities just before he reaches the passage which Addison quotes; p. 105, 1. 1. Till ; either "so long" should be omitted in this sentence or " that " should be substituted for " till "; p. 157, 1. 21. Tilt Yard Coffee-House; Introduction, Section 12. Tithe-stealers; tithes are a tax levied on the agricultural produce of a parish for the support of its clerg>'. A tithe-stealer is one who wrongfully withholds part of the tax; p. 109, 1. 18. To; used much more freely in the eighteenth century than today, as in tbe following cases; to a point, about a point: p. 53, 1. 24; to a visit, ou the way to making a visit: p. 50, 1. 21; takes no/ice to you, calls your attention to: p. 60, 1. 30; oblige him to, force him into: p. 61, 1. 28; smelling, notifying, fronting to, smell- ing, notifying, fronting; p. 188,1.16; p. 189,1.1; p. 196,1.17. Tobacco-stopper, a contrivance for pressing down tobacco in a pipe. The smokers of the last century prided themselves on the fanciful shapes of their tobacco-stoppers. Fairholt gives a list of some of them; among them, a bear's tooth tipped with sil- ver, Dr. Henry Sacheverel in full canonicals carved in ivory, a boot, a horse's hind leg. Punch, a milkmaid, a countryman with a flail, a soldier in armor, a bust of Charles I., a bust of Cromwell; p. 202, 11. 6, 7. The tobacco of this period was commonly prepared in the form of a twisted rope and made up in rolls; p. 210, 1.10. Took off the dress he was In, took off the livery he was in, it being a badge of service; p. 88.1. 10. See Stkippkd, and note the distinction in signifi- cance between the two terms. Tories and Whigs; Introduction, Sec- tions 6. 10,20,21. Travel; Introduction, Section 15. Triumvirate; p. 72, 1. 7. See Shaks- pere's Julius Caesar, iv. 1. Trunk-maker; Introduction, Section 8- Tnlip-root; in Holland in the seven teenth century the price of tulips rose above that of most of the precious metals. Men gambled in them as men novv gamble in stocks. Even in Will Wimble's day, though the "bubble had burst", tulips still re- tained a factitious value; p. 90, 1. 23. Tully, the eighteenth century name for Marcus TuUius Cicero, now known as Cicero; p. 57, 1. 12. Turn at Will's, take a; play a game or so of cards there; p. 57, 1. 26. Turtle [dove] ; p. 77, 1. 17. Two first; modern usage now requires "first two"; p. 104,1. 10. Uncapable; modern usage requires "incapable"; p. 92. 1. 26. Upon, about; p. 103. 1. 4. Vapors, a nervous disease, character- ized by hallucinations and depres- sion of spirits; Introduction, Section 5. Vermin, a term once applied to ob- noxious animals even of consider- able size, but now more limited in its scope; p. 129, 1. 10. Victor; Introduction, Section 32. Visitant, visitor (now seldom used except to designate supernatural visitors); p. 77, 1. 5. Vulgar (from the Latin vulgus, people), the rank and file of people, the com- mon people; p. 121, 1. 21. Wall; Introduction, Section 2. Warm, excited with drink; p. 118, 1. 1?. War, The; Introduction, Sections 21 25.30. 248 GLOSSARY Warwick, liady; Introduction, Sec- tion 25. Was; you was; this form was long used by some people in the desire to make language more logical ; p. 229, 1. 7. If it ivas; careful usage requires " were" here; p. 138, 1. 21. Watchmen; Introduction, Section 3. Watermen; the river Thames was a favorite method of getting to distant parts of the city,— this, notwithstand- ing the ribaldry and blasphemy for which the watermen along the route were notorious; p. 224, 1. 1. Way; see Right we had, etc. Weeds, garments, as in the phrase " widow's weeds"; p. 136. 1. 29. Westminster; the city of Westmin- ster included the part of London in the vicinity of Westminster Abbey. As Westminster Abbey was once a cathedral or head church of a diocese, the municipality in which it was situated became, according to Eng- lish law, a city: p. 186. 1. 10. Westminster Abbey, p. 2o8. 1.2: here the most celebrated of the English dead are buried together with others whose fame was but ephemeral. Sir Cloudesley Sliovel, p. 210, 1. 16, an English admiral who took part in the victory of La Hogue, was ship- wrecked and drowned off the Scilly Islands in 1707. " Sir Cloudesley Shovel's Monument has very often given me great Offence: Instead of the brave rough English admiral, which was the distinguishing charac- ter of that plain, gallant Man, he is represented on his Tomb by the Figure of a Beau, dressed in a long Periwig, and reposing himself upon \ - ^vet Cushions under a Canopy of State."— .9pectotor,No. 26. Dr. Busby, p. 210. 1. 18, for fifty-five years head- master of Westminster School; re- puted to have whipped more great men than any other teacher of Eng- land, nevertheless he was loved and venerated by his pupils. Statesman Cecil upon his knees, p. 210. 1. 29, William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, kneel- ■ ing at the base of his wife's tomb, That martyr to good housewifery, I p. 211, 1. 1, "one of the hundred lies which the attendant is said to have;! told Goldsmith's Citizen of the World without blushing". Two) coronation cliairs, p. 211, 1. 8; the a more recent of these two chairs wass placed in the Abbey for the corona- tion of Marj' as joint sovereign with her husband, William III. The stone "under", or properly speaking, set into the other, was called Jacob's pillar because tradi.ion asserted t th-it it was on this stone that Jacob i had rested his head in the wilderness when he saw " the angels of God ascending and descending". Thence, so Scotch legends ran, it had gone to Spain, thence to Ireland and thence to Scotland. As an actual f.ict, it was a piece of common rough Scotch i sandstone, set into the chair in which i the kings of Scotland were crowned; ; it was seized by Edward I. of England 1 in his conquest of Scotland and con- veyed to the Abbey. Whoever sat in this chair must have had to pay a special fee or "tip" to the guide. Edward III. (p. 211, 1. 24) and his son, the Black Prince, were the heroes of Crecy. The present ; motto of the successive Princes of ' Wales, Ich dien, commemorates this •■■ victory. The sword referred to is i seven feet long and weighs eighteen i pounds. Touched for the evil (or scrofula), p. 212 1. 1, on the supposition that a king's touch would effect a mi- raculous cure. This superstition was very prevalent at this time. Without an head, p. 212, 11. 5,6; Henry V. ; the head of solid silver was stolen, the rest of the figure, which waj plated, , GLOSSARY 249 was stripped of its metal. Interpre- ter, p. 212, 1. 23; the guide. Whisperer, tale-bearer, Informer; p. 142, 1. 10. Whitepot, a dish made of cream, su- „ rice, currants, cinnamon, etc.; p. 96, 1. 16. White witch; see Moll White. Who have; this should properly be "which has"; p 68,1.9. The grammar throughout this issue of the Spectator is defective in the matter of pronouns. Any intelligent reader can correct it, however. Widow Trueby's water; "one of the innumerable strong waters drunk, it is said (perhaps libellously) chiefly by the fair sex as an exhilarant, the ex- cuse being the colic and the vapors." — W. H. Wills. The base of most of these waters was brandy; p. 208, 1. 17. William the Conqueror's time, p. 50, 1. 3; an amiable bit of vanity like the tracing of one's American ancestry back to the landing of the Mayflower. When the Conqueror had distributed the land of England among his aristo- cratic Norman followers, he had a census or survey taken, which, when completed in 1086, formed the first great English record to be published by the nation. Will's, Child's, St. James's, Gre- cian, Cocoa Tree, Jonathan's; London coflFee-houses; Introduction, Sections 11, 12. See also turn at Wilts. Wills, W. H., quoted; Introduction, Section 18, footnote. Wimble; there is an adjective "wim- ble" meaning active, nimble. What other proper names in these papers have been selected with a purpose? p. 89, 1. 3. Winked; Sir Roger is unwilling to think that any one closely related to him could ever engage in trade: p. 97, 1.24. Wishes, hopes (note that the old idiom here is the more accurate); p. 187, 1. 2. Wit; look up this word in the diction- aries. It meant not quite the same thing to the eighteenth century that it means to the nineteenth; p. 56, 1.28. With his service to him; a phrase of courtesy analogous to "with his com- pliments"; p. 89, 1.5. Woman; Sir Roger here recurs to the widow; p. 144, 1. 15. Woman of fashion ; Introduction, Sec- tion 5. Younger sons; Introduction, Sec- tion 14. t4i ,0 o ,0 o "f^ V^^ =■" N° °.. ^ o ^ , ..^. -^ \^ "^c, * S 1 A-^' ^^'^ V^^ "^ -Nc y ^O ^ / 0' X '*'•■' -^' •'. "J^, . -bo^ ^ V' ^^■' ■'^^ .#• Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: iVlarcIn 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724) 779-2111 vOo. ,.'^^' ^ %: \' ,/\.. 0^ o \' s \^' 9. = ^-^.^" .>- %/".-:: .\.^^% *''\v. 0^^-- vOo. ^^'!■ /^ > .^^ %-: ,%, ^.^V^^ ^^^^. .'-^ ^\^ ,: ,0 a -Z-iA/' ^ o>- ...^V