_The_ KINGS TREASURIES OF LITERATURE

 GENERAL EDITOR

 SIR A. T. QUILLER COUCH

 LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS LTD

[Illustration: J. Addison. ]

 _THE_ DE COVERLEY PAPERS _FROM_ _'THE SPECTATOR'_

 EDITED _BY_ JOSEPH MEEK _M. A. _

 All rights reserved by J. M. DENT & SONS LTD Aldine House · Bedford Street · London Made in Great Britain at The Aldine Press · Letchworth · Herts First published in this edition 1920 Last reprinted 1955

INTRODUCTION

No character in our literature, not even Mr. Pickwick, has more endearedhimself to successive generations of readers than Addison's Sir Roger deCoverley: there are many figures in drama and fiction of whom we feelthat they are in a way personal friends of our own, that once introducedto us they remain a permanent part of our little world. It is the abidingglory of Dickens, it is one of Shakespeare's abiding glories, to havecreated many such: but we look to find these characters in the novel orthe play: the essay by virtue of its limitations of space is unsuited forcharacter-studies, and even in the subject of our present reading thedifficulty of hunting the various Coverley Essays down in the greatnumber of _Spectator_ Papers is some small drawback. But here before thebirth of the modern English novel we have a full-length portrait of sucha character as we have described, in addition to a number of other moresketchy but still convincing delineations of English types. We arebrought into the society of a fine old-fashioned country gentleman, simple, generous, and upright, with just those touches of whimsicalityand those lovable faults which go straight to our hearts: and all socharmingly described that these Essays have delighted all who have readthem since they first began to appear on the breakfast-tables of thepolite world in Queen Anne's day. 

"Addison's" Sir Roger we have called him, and be sure that honest DickSteele, even if he drew the first outlines of the figure, would not bearus a grudge for so doing. Whoever first thought of Sir Roger, and howevermany little touches may have been added by other hands, he remainsAddison's creation: and furthermore it does not matter a snap of thefingers whether any actual person served as the model from which thepicture was taken. Of all the bootless quests that literary criticism canundertake, this search for "the original" is the least valuable. Theartist's mind is a crucible which transmutes and re-creates: to vary themetaphor, the marble springs to life under the workman's hands: we canalmost see it happening in these Essays: and we know how often enough awriter finds his own creation kicking over the traces, as it were, andbecoming almost independent of his volition. There is no original for SirRoger or Falstaff or Mr. Micawber: they may not have sprung Athena-likefully armed out of the author's head, and they may have been suggested bysome one he had in mind. But once created they came into a full-bloodedlife with personalities entirely of their own. 

A vastly more useful quest, one in fact of absorbing interest, is theattempt to follow the artist's method, to trace the devices which headopts to bring to our notice all those various traits by which we judgeof character. The prose writer has this much advantage over theplaywright, that he can represent his _dramatis personæ_ in a greaternumber of different situations, and furthermore can criticise them anddraw our special attention to what he wishes to have stressed: he caneven say that such and such thoughts and motives are in their minds. Notso the dramatist: his space is limited and he is cribbed, cabined, andconfined by having to give a convincing imitation of real life, where wecannot tell what is going on in the minds of even our most intimatefriends. Thus the audience is often left uncertain of the purport of whatit sees and hears: the ugly and inartistic convention of the aside mustbe used very sparingly if the play is to ring true; and so it is that weshall find voluminous discussions on the subject, for instance, of howShakespeare meant such and such a character to be interpreted. It standsto reason that the character in fiction can to this same extent be moreartificial. It is a test of the self-control and artistic restraint ofthe novelist if he can refrain from diving too deep into the unknown andarrogating to himself an impossibly full knowledge of the mentalprocesses of other people. And now notice how Addison gives us just suchrevelations of the old Knight's character as the observant spectatorwould gather from friendly intercourse with him. We see Sir Roger athome, ruling his household and the village with a genial if somewhatautocratic sway: we see him in London, taking the cicerone who pilots himround Westminster Abbey for a monument of wit and learning: and so on andso forth. There is no need to catalogue these occasions: what we havesaid should suffice to point out a very fruitful line of study which mayhelp the reader to a full appreciation of Addison's work. "Good wineneeds no bush, " and the Coverley Essays are good wine if ever there wassuch. 

The study of the style is also of the greatest value. Addison lived at atime when our modern English prose had recently found itself. We admirethe splendour of the Miltonic style, and lose ourselves in the richharmonies of Sir Thomas Browne's work; but after all prose is needed forordinary every-day jog-trot purposes and must be clear andstraightforward. It can still remain a very attractive instrument ofspeech or writing, and in Addison's hands it fulfilled to perfection theneeds of the essay style. He avoids verbiage and excessive adornment, heis content to tell what he sees or knows or thinks as simply as possible(and even with a tendency towards the conversational), and he has aninimitable feeling for just the right word, just the most elegantlyturned phrase and period. Do not imagine this sort of thing is the resultof a mere gift for style: true, it could not happen without that, butneither can it happen without a great deal of careful thought, ascrupulous choice, and balancing of word against word, phrase againstphrase. Because all this is done and because the result is so clear andruns so smoothly, it requires an effort on our part to realise the greatamount of work involved: _Ars est celare artem_: and in such an essay asthat describing the picture gallery in Sir Roger's house we can see thepictures in front of our eyes precisely because the description is soclear-cut, so free from unnecessary decoration, and yet so picturesqueand attractive. 

A very short acquaintance will enable the reader to appreciate Addison'scharming humour and sane grasp of character. The high moral tone of hiswork, the common-sense and broad culture and literary insight whichcaused the _Spectator_ to exert a profound influence over a dissoluteage, these can only be seen by a more extended reading of the Essays, andthose who are interested cannot do better than obtain some generalselection such as that of Arnold. 

Biographical and historical details are somewhat outside the scope of thepresent Essay. A short Chronological Table is appended, and the readercannot be too strongly recommended to study Johnson's Life of Addison, which is one of the best of the Lives of the Poets, and in which theliterary criticism is in Johnson's best vein. And Thackeray's _Esmond_contains some delightful passages introducing Richard Steele and hisentourage, with an interesting scene in Addison's lodgings. It is perhapsas well to mention that the _Spectator_ grew out of Addison'scollaboration with Steele in a similar periodical entitled the _Tatler_. There were several writers besides these two concerned in the_Spectator_, notably Budgell. (The letters at the end of most of thepapers are signatures: C. , L. , I. And O. Are the marks of Addison's work, R. And T. Of Steele's, and X. Of Budgell's. ) We have stories of Addison'sresentment of their tampering with his favourite character; it is evensaid that he killed the Knight off in his annoyance at one paper whichrepresented him in an unfitting situation. We cannot judge of the truthof such stories. In any case it was Addison who controlled the wholetenor and policy of the paper, wisely steering as clear as possible ofpolitics, and thereby broadening his appeal and reaching a wider public, and it was Addison's kindly and mellow criticism of life that informedthe whole work. His remaining literary productions, popular at the time, have receded into the background: but the _Spectator_ will keep his namealive as long as English literature survives. 

 * * * * *

(In this selection only those essays have been chosen which bear directlyon Sir Roger or the _Spectator_ Club: several have been omitted whichrefer to him only _en passant_ or as a peg on which to hang somedisquisition, and also one other which is wholly out of keeping with SirRoger's character. )

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE

 1672. Birth of Addison and Steele. 1697. Addison elected Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford. 1701, 3, 5, 22. Steele's Plays. 1702. Accession of Queen Anne. 1704. Addison's _Campaign_ (poem celebrating Blenheim). 1706. Addison's _Rosamond_ (opera). 1709-11. Steele's _Tatler_. 1711-12-14. The _Spectator_. 1713. Addison's _Cato_ (play). 1714. Accession of George I. 1717. Addison appointed Secretary of State. 1719. Death of Addison. 1729. Death of Steele. 

THE DE COVERLEY PAPERS

NO. 1. THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 1710-11

 _Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dart lucem Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat. _

 HOR. _Ars Poet. _ ver. 143. 

 One with a flash begins, and ends in smoke; The other out of smoke brings glorious light, And (without raising expectation high) Surprises us with dazzling miracles. 

 ROSCOMMON. 

I have observed, that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure, untilhe knows whether the writer of it be a black[1] or a fair man, of a mildor choleric[2] disposition, married or a bachelor, with other particularsof the like nature, that conduce very much to the right understanding ofan author. To gratify this curiosity, which is so natural to a reader, Idesign this paper and my next as prefatory discourses to my followingwritings, and shall give some account in them of the several persons thatare engaged in this work. As the chief trouble of compiling, digesting[3], and correcting will fall to my share, I must do myself thejustice to open the work with my own history. 

I was born to a small hereditary estate, which, according to thetradition of the village where it lies, was bounded by the same hedgesand ditches in William the Conqueror's time that it is at present, andhas been delivered down from father to son whole and entire, without theloss or acquisition of a single field or meadow, during the space of sixhundred years. There runs a story in the family, that before my birth mymother dreamt that she was brought to bed of a judge: whether this mightproceed from a lawsuit which was then depending[4] in the family, or myfather's being a justice of the peace, I cannot determine; for I am notso vain as to think it presaged any dignity that I should arrive at in myfuture life, though that was the interpretation which the neighbourhoodput upon it. The gravity of my behaviour at my very first appearance inthe world, and all the time that I sucked, seemed to favour my mother'sdream: for, as she has often told me, I threw away my rattle before I wastwo months old, and would not make use of my coral until they had takenaway the bells from it. 

As for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing in it remarkable, Ishall pass it over in silence. I find, that, during my nonage[5], I hadthe reputation of a very sullen youth, but was always a favourite of myschoolmaster, who used to say, that my parts[6] were solid, and wouldwear well. I had not been long at the University, before I distinguishedmyself by a most profound silence; for during the space of eight years, excepting in the public exercises[7] of the college, I scarce uttered thequantity of an hundred words; and indeed do not remember that I everspoke three sentences together in my whole life. Whilst I was in thislearned body, I applied myself with so much diligence to my studies, thatthere are very few celebrated books, either in the learned or the moderntongues, which I am not acquainted with. 

Upon the death of my father, I was resolved to travel into foreigncountries, and therefore left the University, with the character of anodd unaccountable fellow, that had a great deal of learning, if I wouldbut show it. An insatiable thirst after knowledge carried me into all thecountries of Europe, in which there was anything new or strange to beseen; nay, to such a degree was my curiosity raised, that having read thecontroversies of some great men concerning the antiquities of Egypt, Imade a voyage to Grand Cairo, on purpose to take the measure of apyramid: and, as soon as I had set myself right in that particular, returned to my native country with great satisfaction. 

I have passed my latter years in this city, where I am frequently seen inmost public places, though there are not above half a dozen of my selectfriends that know me; of whom my next paper shall give a more particularaccount. There is no place of general resort, wherein I do not often makemy appearance; sometimes I am seen thrusting my head into a round ofpoliticians at Will's[8], and listening with great attention to thenarratives that are made in those little circular audiences. Sometimes Ismoke a pipe at Child's[8], and, whilst I seem attentive to nothing butthe _Postman_[9], overhear the conversation of every table in the room. Iappear on Sunday nights at St. James's[8] coffee-house, and sometimesjoin the little committee of politics in the inner room, as one who comesthere to hear and improve. My face is likewise very well known at theGrecian[8], the Cocoa-Tree, and in the theatres both of Drury Lane andthe Hay-Market. I have been taken for a merchant upon the Exchange forabove these ten years, and sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly ofstock-jobbers at Jonathan's: in short, wherever I see a cluster ofpeople, I always mix with them, though I never open my lips but in my ownclub. 

Thus I live in the world rather as a spectator of mankind, than as one ofthe species, by which means I have made myself a speculative statesman, soldier, merchant, and artisan, without ever meddling with any practicalpart in life. I am very well versed in the theory of a husband or afather, and can discern the errors in the economy[10], business, anddiversion of others, better than those who are engaged in them, asstanders-by discover blots[11], which are apt to escape those who are inthe game. I never espoused any party with violence, and am resolved toobserve an exact neutrality between the Whigs and Tories, unless I shallbe forced to declare myself by the hostilities of either side. In short, I have acted in all the parts of my life as a looker-on, which is thecharacter I intend to preserve in this paper. 

I have given the reader just so much of my history and character, as tolet him see I am not altogether unqualified for the business I haveundertaken. As for other particulars in my life and adventures, I shallinsert them in following papers, as I shall see occasion. In themeantime, when I consider how much I have seen, read, and heard, I beginto blame my own taciturnity; and, since I have neither time norinclination to communicate the fulness of my heart in speech, I amresolved 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 pity somany useful discoveries which I have made should be in the possession ofa silent man. For this reason, therefore, I shall publish a sheet-full ofthoughts every morning, for the benefit of my contemporaries; and if Ican any way contribute to the diversion or improvement of the country inwhich I live, I shall leave it, when I am summoned out of it, with thesecret satisfaction of thinking that I have not lived in vain. 

There are three very material points which I have not spoken to[12] inthis paper; and which, for several important reasons, I must keep tomyself, 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 anythingthat is reasonable; but as for these three particulars, though I amsensible they might tend very much to the embellishment of my paper, Icannot yet come to a resolution of communicating them to the public. Theywould indeed draw me out of that obscurity which I have enjoyed for manyyears, and expose me in public places to several salutes and civilities, which have been always very disagreeable to me; for the greatest pain Ican suffer, is the being talked to, and being stared at. It is for thisreason likewise, that I keep my complexion[13] and dress as very greatsecrets; though it is not impossible, but I may make discoveries[14] ofboth in the progress of the work I have undertaken. 

After having been thus particular upon myself, I shall, in to-morrow'spaper, give an account of those gentlemen who are concerned with me inthis work; for, as I have before intimated, a plan of it is laid andconcerted (as all other matters of importance are) in a club. However, asmy friends have engaged me to stand in the front, those who have a mindto correspond with me, may direct their letters to the _Spectator_, atMr. Buckley's in Little Britain. For I must further acquaint the reader, that, though our club meets only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we haveappointed a committee to sit every night, for the inspection of all suchpapers as may contribute to the advancement of the public weal. 

 C. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Black. _ Dark. 

[2] _Choleric. _ Liable to anger. 

[3] _Digesting. _ Arranging methodically. 

[4] _Depending. _ Modern English _pending_. 

[5] _Nonage. _ Minority. 

[6] _Parts. _ Powers. 

[7] _Public exercises. _ Examinations for degrees at Oxford and Cambridgeformerly took the form of public debates. 

[8] _Will's_, _Child's_, _St. James's_, _Grecian_. Coffee-houses; allthese, and the cocoa-houses too, tended to become the special haunts ofmembers of some particular party, profession, etc. ; _e. G. _, Will's wasliterary, St. James's Whig. 

[9] _Postman. _ A weekly newspaper. 

[10] _Economy. _ Household management. 

[11] _Blots. _ Exposed pieces in backgammon. 

[12] _Spoken to. _ Referred to. 

[13] _Complexion. _ Countenance. 

[14] _Discoveries. _ Disclosures. 

NO. 2. FRIDAY, MARCH 2

 _Ast alii sex Et plures uno conclamant ore. _

 JUV. _Sat. _ vii. Ver. 167. 

 Six more at least join their consenting voice. 

The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of ancientdescent, a baronet, his name is Sir Roger de Coverley. Hisgreat-grandfather was inventor of that famous country-dance which iscalled after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted withthe parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is verysingular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his goodsense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world, only as hethinks the world is in the wrong. However this humour creates him noenemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his beingunconfined to modes and forms, makes him but the readier and more capableto please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he lives inSoho Square. It is said, he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he wascrossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a Fine Gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege[15], fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully Dawson[16]in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being ill-used bythe above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a half; andthough, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, hegrew careless of himself, and never dressed[17] afterwards. He continuesto wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at thetime of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he tells us, has beenin and out twelve times since he first wore it. He is now in hisfifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both intown and country; a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthfulcast in his behaviour, that he is rather beloved than esteemed. Histenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, all the young womenprofess love to him, and the young men are glad of his company: when hecomes into a house he calls the servants by their names, and talks allthe way upstairs to a visit. I must not omit, that Sir Roger is a justiceof the Quorum[18]; that he fills the chair at a quarter-session withgreat abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause byexplaining a passage in the Game Act[19]. 

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, andunderstanding; but he has chosen his place of residence rather to obeythe direction of an old humoursome[20] father, than in pursuit of his owninclinations. He was placed there to study the laws of the land, and isthe most learned of any of the house in those of the stage. Aristotle andLonginus[21] are much better understood by him than Littleton orCoke[22]. The father sends up every post questions relating tomarriage-articles, leases, and tenures, in the neighbourhood; all whichquestions he agrees with an attorney to answer and take care of in thelump. He is studying the passions themselves, when he should be inquiringinto the debates among men which arise from them. He knows the argumentof each of the orations of Demosthenes and Tully[23], but not one case inthe reports of our own courts. No one ever took him for a fool, but none, except his intimate friends, know he has a great deal of wit[24]. Thisturn makes him at once both disinterested and agreeable: as few of histhoughts are drawn from business, they are most of them fit forconversation. His taste of books is a little too just for the age helives in; he has read all, but approves of very few. His familiarity withthe customs, manners, actions, and writings of the ancients, makes him avery delicate observer of what occurs to him in the present world. He isan 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 until the play begins; he has his shoes rubbedand his periwig powdered at the barber's as you go into the Rose[25]. Itis for the good of the audience when he is at a play, for the actors havean ambition to please him. 

The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew Freeport, a merchant ofgreat eminence in the city of London. A person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and great experience. His notions of trade are noble andgenerous, 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 seathe British Common. He is acquainted with commerce in all its parts, andwill tell you that it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion byarms; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will oftenargue, that if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we shouldgain from one nation; and if another, from another. I have heard himprove, that diligence makes more lasting acquisitions than valour, andthat sloth has ruined more nations than the sword. He abounds in severalfrugal maxims, amongst which the greatest favourite is, "A penny saved isa penny got. " A general trader of good sense is pleasanter company than ageneral scholar; and Sir Andrew having a natural unaffected eloquence, the perspicuity of his discourse gives the same pleasure that wit wouldin another man. He has made his fortunes himself; and says that Englandmay be richer than other kingdoms, by as plain methods as he himself isricher 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 whichhe is an owner. 

Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room sits Captain Sentry, a gentleman ofgreat courage, good understanding, but invincible modesty. He is one ofthose that deserve very well, but are very awkward at putting theirtalents within the observation of such as should take notice of them. Hewas some years a captain, and behaved himself with great gallantry inseveral engagements, and at several sieges; but having a small estate ofhis own, and being next heir to Sir Roger, he has quitted a way of lifein which no man can rise suitably to his merit, who is not something of acourtier, as well as a soldier. I have heard him often lament, that in aprofession where merit is placed in so conspicuous a view, impudenceshould get the better of modesty. When he has talked to this purpose, Inever heard him make a sour expression, but frankly confess that he leftthe world[26] because he was not fit for it. A strict honesty and an evenregular behaviour, are in themselves obstacles to him that must pressthrough crowds, who endeavour at the same end with himself, the favour ofa commander. He will however, in his way of talk, excuse generals, fornot disposing according to men's desert, or inquiring into it: For, sayshe, that great man who has a mind to help me, has as many to breakthrough to come at me, as I have to come at him: Therefore he willconclude, that the man who would make a figure, especially in a militaryway, must get over all false modesty, and assist his patron against theimportunity of other pretenders, by a proper assurance in his ownvindication[27]. He says it is a civil[28] cowardice to be backward inasserting what you ought to expect, as it is a military fear to be slowin attacking when it is your duty. With this candour does the gentlemanspeak of himself and others. The same frankness runs through all hisconversation. The military part of his life has furnished him with manyadventures, in the relation of which he is very agreeable to the company;for he is never overbearing, though accustomed to command men in theutmost degree below him; nor ever too obsequious, from an habit ofobeying men highly above him. 

But that our society may not appear a set of humorists[29], unacquaintedwith the gallantries and pleasures of the age, we have among us thegallant Will Honeycomb, a gentleman who, according to his years, shouldbe in the decline of his life, but having ever been very careful of hisperson, and always had a very easy fortune, time has made but a verylittle impression, either by wrinkles on his forehead, or traces in hisbrain. His person is well turned[30], of a good height. He is very readyat that sort of discourse with which men usually entertain women. He hasall his life dressed very well, and remembers habits[31] as others domen. He can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs easily. He knows thehistory of every mode, and can inform you from which of the French ladiesour wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that wayof placing their hoods, and whose vanity to show her foot made that partof the dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation andknowledge have been in the female world: as other men of his age willtake notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such anoccasion, he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court, such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head ofhis troop in the Park. In all these important relations, he has everabout the same time received a kind glance or a blow of a fan from somecelebrated beauty, mother of the present Lord Such-a-one. This way oftalking of his very much enlivens the conversation among us of a moresedate turn; and I find there is not one of the company, but myself, whorarely speak at all, but speaks of him as of that sort of man who isusually 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, asone of our company; for he visits us but seldom, but, when he does, itadds to every man else a new enjoyment of himself. He is a clergyman, avery philosophic man, of general learning, great sanctity of life, andthe most exact good breeding. He has the misfortune to be of a very weakconstitution, and consequently cannot accept of such cares and businessas preferments in his function would oblige him to: he is therefore amongdivines what a chamber-counsellor[32] is among lawyers. The probity ofhis mind, and the integrity of his life, create him followers, as beingeloquent or loud advances others. He seldom introduces the subject hespeaks upon; but we are so far gone in years, that he observes when he isamong us, an earnestness to have him fall on some divine topic[33], whichhe always treats with much authority, as one who has no interests in thisworld, as one who is hastening to the object of all his wishes, andconceives hope from his decays and infirmities. These are my ordinarycompanions. 

 R. 

FOOTNOTES:

[15] _Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege. _ Well-known leaders offashion and dissipation. 

[16] _Bully Dawson. _ A notorious swaggerer and sharper. 

[17] _Dressed. _ _I. E. _, fashionably. 

[18] _Quorum. _ Panel of magistrates. 

[19] _Game Act. _ Laws dating from very early times and regulating thelicence to kill game. 

[20] _Humoursome. _ Capricious. 

[21] _Aristotle and Longinus. _ Aristotle's _Poetics_ and Longinus on the_Sublime_ are classics of literary criticism. 

[22] _Littleton or Coke. _ Famous writers on law. 

[23] _Demosthenes and Tully. _ Demosthenes and M. Tullius Cicero, thegreat orators of Athens and Rome respectively. 

[24] _Wit. _ Cleverness. 

[25] _The Rose. _ The Rose tavern was frequented by actors. 

[26] _The world. _ _I. E. _, of public life. 

[27] _Own vindication. _ Self-assertion. 

[28] _Civil. _ Civilian. 

[29] _Humorists. _ Eccentrics. 

[30] _Turned. _ Shaped. 

[31] _Habits. _ Clothes; _i. E. _, fashions. 

[32] _Chamber-counsellor. _ Barrister whose practice is confined toconsultations. 

[33] _Divine topic. _ Topic of divinity. 

NO. 106. MONDAY, JULY 2

 _Hinc tibi copia Manabit ad plenum, benigno Ruris honorum opulenta cornu. _

 HOR. _Od. _ xvii. L. I. Ver. 14. 

 Here to thee shall plenty flow, And all her riches show. To raise the honour of the quiet plain. 

 CREECH. 

Having often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverleyto pass away a month with him in the country, I last week accompanied himthither, and am settled with him for some time at his country-house, where I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, whois very well acquainted with my humour[34], lets me rise and go to bedwhen I please, dine at his own table or in my chamber as I think fit, sitstill and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen ofthe country come to see him, he only shows me at a distance: as I havebeen walking in his fields, I have observed them stealing a sight of meover an hedge, and have heard the Knight desiring them not to let me seethem, for that I hated to be stared at. 

I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, because it consists of soberand staid persons; for, as the Knight is the best master in the world, heseldom changes his servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, hisservants never care for leaving him; by this means his domestics are allin years, and grown old with their master. You would take his _valet dechambre_ for his brother, his butler is grey-headed, his groom is one ofthe gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks ofa privy counsellor. You see the goodness of the master even in the oldhouse-dog, and in a grey pad[35] that is kept in the stable with greatcare and tenderness out of regard to his past services, though he hasbeen useless for several years. 

I could not but observe, with a great deal of pleasure, the joy thatappeared in the countenance of these ancient domestics upon my friend'sarrival at his country seat. Some of them could not refrain from tears atthe sight of their old master; every one of them pressed forward to dosomething for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not employed. Atthe same time the good old Knight, with a mixture of the father and themaster of the family, tempered the inquiries after his own affairs withseveral kind questions relating to themselves. This humanity andgood-nature engages everybody to him, so that when he is pleasantupon[36] any of them, all his family are in good humour, and none so muchas the person whom he diverts himself with: on the contrary, if hecoughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a stander-byto observe a secret concern in the looks of all his servants. 

[Illustration: 'Every one of them press'd forward to do something forhim. ']

My worthy friend has put me under the particular care of his butler, whois a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard theirmaster talk of me as of his particular friend. 

My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in the woods orthe fields, is a very venerable man who is ever with Sir Roger, and haslived at his house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years. Thisgentleman is a person of good sense and some learning, of a very regularlife, and obliging conversation[37]: he heartily loves Sir Roger, andknows that he is very much in the old Knight's esteem, so that he livesin the family rather as a relation than a dependent. 

I have observed in several of my papers, that my friend Sir Roger, amidstall his good qualities, is something of an humorist[38]; and that hisvirtues, as well as imperfections, are, as it were, tinged by a certainextravagance, which makes them particularly _his_, and distinguishes themfrom those of other men. This cast of mind, as it is generally veryinnocent in itself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable, andmore delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue would appear intheir common and ordinary colours. As I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned? Andwithout staying for my answer, told me, that he was afraid of beinginsulted with Latin and Greek at his own table; for which reason hedesired a particular friend of his at the University to find him out aclergyman rather of plain sense than much learning, of a good aspect, aclear voice, a sociable temper, and, if possible, a man that understood alittle of backgammon. My friend, says Sir Roger, found me out thisgentleman, who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show it: I have given him theparsonage of the parish; and because I know his value, have settled uponhim a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he washigher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with methirty years; and though he does not know I have taken notice of it, hasnever in all that time asked anything of me for himself, though he isevery day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or other of mytenants, his parishioners. There has not been a law-suit in the parishsince he has lived among them: if any dispute arises they applythemselves to him for the decision; if they do not acquiesce in hisjudgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at most, theyappeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a present of allthe good sermons which have been printed in English, and only begged ofhim that every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly, he has digested[39] them into such a series, that theyfollow one another naturally, and make a continued system of practicaldivinity. 

As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking ofcame up to us; and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow(for it was Saturday night, ) told us, the Bishop of St. Asaph in themorning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then showed us his list ofpreachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasureArchbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, withseveral living authors who have published discourses of practicaldivinity. I no sooner saw this venerable man in the pulpit, but I verymuch approved of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications of a goodaspect and a clear voice; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness ofhis figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time more to my satisfaction. A sermonrepeated after this manner, is like the composition of a poet in themouth of a graceful actor. 

I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy would follow thisexample; and, instead of wasting their spirits in laborious compositionsof their own, would endeavour after a handsome elocution[40], and allthose other talents that are proper to enforce what has been penned bygreater masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but moreedifying to the people. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[34] _Humour. _ Disposition. 

[35] _Pad. _ Easy-paced horse. 

[36] _Is pleasant upon. _ Jokes with; chaffs. 

[37] _Conversation. _ Manner of conducting oneself in intercourse. Compare note on p. 40. 

[38] _Humorist. _ Whimsical person. 

[39] _Digested. _ Arranged. 

[40] _Handsome elocution. _ Good style of delivery. 

NO. 107. TUESDAY, JULY 3

 _Aesopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici, Servumque collocârunt aeterna in basi, Patere honoris scirent ut cunctis viam. _

 PHÆDR. _Epilog. _ l. 2. 

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

The reception, manner of attendance, undisturbed freedom and quiet, whichI meet with here in the country, has confirmed me in the opinion I alwayshad, that the general corruption of manners in servants is owing to theconduct of masters. The aspect of every one in the family[41] carries somuch satisfaction, that it appears he knows the happy lot which hasbefallen him in being a member of it. There is one particular which Ihave seldom seen but at Sir Roger's; it is usual in all other places, that servants fly from the parts of the house through which their masteris passing; on the contrary, here they industriously[42] place themselvesin his way; and it is on both sides, as it were, understood as a visitwhen the servants appear without calling. This proceeds from the humaneand equal temper of the man of the house, who also perfectly well knowshow to enjoy a great estate, with such economy as ever to be muchbeforehand[43]. This makes his own mind untroubled, and consequentlyunapt to vent peevish expressions, or give passionate or inconsistentorders to those about him. Thus respect and love go together; and acertain cheerfulness in performance of their duty is the particulardistinction of the lower part of this family. When a servant is calledbefore his master, he does not come with an expectation to hear himselfrated for some trivial fault, threatened to be stripped[44] or used withany other unbecoming language, which mean masters often give to worthyservants; but it is often to know what road he took, that he came soreadily back according to order; whether he passed by such a ground; ifthe old man who rents it is in good health; or whether he gave SirRoger's love to him, or the like. 

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

There is another circumstance in which my friend excels in hismanagement, which is the manner of rewarding his servants: he has everbeen of opinion, that giving his cast clothes to be worn by valets has avery ill effect upon little minds, and creates a silly sense of equalitybetween the parties, in persons affected only with outward things. I haveheard him often pleasant on this occasion[45], and describe a younggentleman abusing his man in that coat, which a month or two before wasthe most pleasing distinction he was conscious of in himself. He wouldturn his discourse still more pleasantly upon the ladies' bounties ofthis kind; and I have heard him say he knew a fine woman, who distributedrewards and punishments in giving becoming or unbecoming dresses to hermaids. 

But my good friend is above these little instances of good-will, inbestowing only trifles on his servants; a good servant to him is sure ofhaving it in his choice very soon of being no servant at all. As Ibefore observed, he is so good an husband[46], and knows so thoroughlythat the skill of the purse is the cardinal virtue of this life: I say, he knows so well that frugality is the support of generosity, that he canoften spare a large fine[47] when a tenement falls, and give thatsettlement to a good servant, who has a mind to go into the world, ormake a stranger pay the fine to that servant, for his more comfortablemaintenance, if he stays in his service. 

A man of honour and generosity considers it would be miserable to himselfto have no will but that of another, though it were of the best personbreathing, and for that reason goes on as fast as he is able to put hisservants into independent livelihoods. The greatest part of Sir Roger'sestate is tenanted by persons who have served himself or his ancestors. It was to me extremely pleasant to observe the visitants from severalparts to welcome his arrival in the country; and all the difference thatI could take notice of between the late servants who came to see him, andthose who stayed in the family, was, that these latter were looked uponas finer gentlemen and better courtiers. 

This manumission[48] and placing them in a way of livelihood, I look uponas only what is due to a good servant, which encouragement will make hissuccessor be as diligent, as humble, and as ready as he was. There issomething wonderful in the narrowness of those minds, which can bepleased, and be barren of bounty to those who please them. 

One might, on this occasion, recount the sense that great persons in allages have had of the merit of their dependents, and the heroic serviceswhich men have done their masters in the extremity of their fortunes; andshown, to their undone[49] patrons, that fortune was all thedifference[50] between them; but as I design this my speculation only asa gentle admonition to thankless masters, I shall not go out of theoccurrences of common life, but assert it as a general observation, thatI never saw but in Sir Roger's family, and one or two more, good servantstreated as they ought to be. Sir Roger's kindness extends to theirchildren's children, and this very morning he sent his coachman'sgrandson to prentice. I shall conclude this paper with an account of apicture in his gallery, where there are many which will deserve my futureobservation. 

At the very upper end of this handsome structure I saw the portraiture oftwo young men standing in a river, the one naked, the other in a livery. The person supported seemed half dead, but still so much alive as to showin his face exquisite joy and love towards the other. I thought thefainting figure resembled my friend Sir Roger; and looking at the butler, who stood by me, for an account of it, he informed me that the person inthe livery was a servant of Sir Roger's, who stood on the shore whilehis master was swimming, and observing him taken with some suddenillness, and sink under water, jumped in and saved him. He told me SirRoger took off the dress[51] he was in as soon as he came home, and by agreat bounty at that time, followed by his favour ever since, had madehim master of that pretty seat which we saw at a distance as we came tothis house. I remembered indeed Sir Roger said there lived a very worthygentleman, to whom he was highly obliged, without mentioning anythingfurther. Upon my looking a little dissatisfied at some part of thepicture, 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 inthe habit[52] in which he had saved his master. 

 R. 

FOOTNOTES:

[41] _Family. _ Family in its original Latin meaning of _household_. 

[42] _Industriously. _ On purpose. 

[43] _With such economy . . . Beforehand. _ With such thrift as always tobe well within his income. 

[44] _Stripped. _ Discharged. 

[45] _Pleasant on this occasion. _ Joking on this topic. 

[46] _So good an husband. _ So thrifty a man. 

[47] _Fine. _ Premium paid by new tenant to landlord. 

[48] _Manumission. _ Release from service. 

[49] _Undone. _ Ruined. 

[50] _All the difference. _ The only difference. 

[51] _Took off the dress. _ Dress = livery: _i. E. _, would not allow himto remain a servant. 

[52] _Habit. _ Dress. 

NO. 108. WEDNESDAY, JULY 4

 _Gratis anhelans, multa agenda nihil agens. _

 PHÆDR. _Fab. _ v. 1. 2. 

 Out of breath to no purpose, and very busy about nothing. 

As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir Roger before his house, acountry fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he told him, Mr. WilliamWimble had caught that very morning; and that he presented it, with hisservice to him, and intended to come and dine with him. At the same timehe delivered a letter which my friend read to me as soon as the messengerleft him. 

 SIR ROGER, I desire you to accept of a jack[53], 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 the Black River. I observed with some concern, the last time I saw you upon the bowling-green, that your whip wanted a lash to it; I will bring half a dozen with 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 the saddle for six days last past, having been at Eton with Sir John's eldest son. He takes to his learning hugely. I am, Sir, Your humble servant, WILL WIMBLE. 

This extraordinary letter, and message that accompanied it, made me verycurious to know the character and quality of the gentleman who sent them;which I found to be as follows. Will Wimble is younger brother to abaronet, and descended of the ancient family of the Wimbles. He is nowbetween forty and fifty; but, being bred to no business and born to noestate, he generally lives with his elder brother as superintendent ofhis game. He hunts a pack of dogs better than any man in the country, andis very famous for finding out a hare. He is extremely well-versed in allthe little handicrafts of an idle man: he makes a May-fly to a miracle;and furnishes the whole country[54] with angle-rods. As he is agood-natured officious[55] fellow, and very much esteemed upon account ofhis family, he is a welcome guest at every house, and keeps up a goodcorrespondence[56] among all the gentlemen about him. He carries atulip-root in his pocket from one to another, or exchanges a puppybetween a couple of friends that live perhaps in the opposite sides ofthe county. Will is a particular favourite of all the young heirs, whomhe frequently obliges with a net that he has weaved, or a setting dogthat he has made[57] himself: he now and then presents a pair of gartersof his own knitting to their mothers or sisters; and raises a great dealof mirth among them, by inquiring as often as he meets them _how theywear_? These gentleman-like manufactures and obliging little humours makeWill the darling of the country. 

Sir Roger was proceeding in the character of him, when we saw him make upto us with two or three hazel-twigs in his hand, that he had cut in SirRoger's woods, as he came through them in his way to the house. I wasvery much pleased to observe on one side the hearty and sincere welcomewith which Sir Roger received him, and on the other, the secret joy whichhis guest discovered[58] at sight of the good old Knight. After the firstsalutes were over, Will desired Sir Roger to lend him one of his servantsto carry a set of shuttlecocks he had with him in a little box to a ladythat lived about a mile off, to whom it seems he had promised such apresent for above this half-year. Sir Roger's back was no sooner turned, but honest Will began to tell me of a large cock pheasant that he hadsprung in one of the neighbouring woods, with two or three otheradventures of the same nature. Odd and uncommon characters are the gamethat I look for, and most delight in; for which reason I was as muchpleased with the novelty of the person that talked to me, as he could befor his life with the springing of a pheasant, and therefore listened tohim with more than ordinary attention. 

In the midst of his discourse the bell rung to dinner, where thegentleman I have been speaking of had the pleasure of seeing the hugejack, he had caught, served up for the first dish in a most sumptuousmanner. Upon our sitting down to it he gave us a long account how he hadhooked it, played with it, foiled[59] it, and at length drew it out uponthe bank, with several other particulars that lasted all the firstcourse. A dish of wild-fowl that came afterwards furnished conversationfor the rest of the dinner, which concluded with a late invention ofWill's for improving the quail-pipe[60]. 

Upon withdrawing into my room after dinner, I was secretly touched withcompassion towards the honest gentleman that had dined with us; and couldnot but consider with a great deal of concern, how so good an heart andsuch busy hands were wholly employed in trifles; that so much humanityshould be so little beneficial to others, and so much industry so littleadvantageous to himself. The same temper of mind and application toaffairs, might have recommended him to the public esteem, and have raisedhis fortune in another station of life. What good to his country orhimself might not a trader or merchant have done with such useful thoughordinary qualifications?

Will Wimble's is the case of many a younger brother of a great family, who had rather see their children starve like gentlemen, than thrive in atrade or profession that is beneath their quality. This humour[61] fillsseveral parts of Europe with pride and beggary. It is the happiness of atrading nation, like ours, that the younger sons, though incapable of anyliberal art or profession, may be placed in such a way of life, as mayperhaps enable them to vie with the best of their family: accordingly wefind several citizens that were launched into the world with narrowfortunes, rising by an honest industry to greater estates than those oftheir elder brothers. It is not improbable but Will was formerly tried atdivinity, law, or physic; and that, finding his genius did not lie thatway, his parents gave him up at length to his own inventions; butcertainly, however improper he might have been for studies of a highernature, he was perfectly well turned[62] for the occupations of trade andcommerce. As I think this is a point which cannot be too muchinculcated, I shall desire my reader to compare what I have here writtenwith what I have said in my twenty-first speculation. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[53] _Jack. _ Pike. 

[54] _Country. _ Country-side. 

[55] _Officious. _ Obliging. 

[56] _Correspondence. _ Inter-communication. 

[57] _Made. _ Trained. 

[58] _Discovered. _ Showed. 

[59] _Foiled. _ Rendered helpless. 

[60] _Quail-pipe. _ Device for decoying quails. 

[61] _Humour. _ Prejudice. 

[62] _Turned. _ Fitted by nature. 

NO. 109. THURSDAY, JULY 5

 _Abnormis sapiens. _

 HOR. _Sat. _ ii. L. 2. Ver. 3. 

 Of plain good sense, untutor'd in the schools. 

I was this morning walking in the gallery when Sir Roger entered at theend opposite to me, and advancing towards me, said he was glad to meet meamong his relations the De Coverleys, and hoped I liked theconversation[63] of so much good company, who were as silent as myself. Iknew he alluded to the pictures, and as he is a gentleman who does not alittle value himself upon his ancient descent, I expected he would giveme some account of them. We were now arrived at the upper end of thegallery, when the Knight faced towards one of the pictures, and, as westood before it, he entered into the matter, after his blunt way ofsaying things, as they occur to his imagination, without regularintroduction, or care to preserve the appearance of chain of thought. 

"It is, " said he, "worth while to consider the force of dress; and howthe 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 beenfollowed by one particular set of people in another, and by thempreserved from one generation to another. Thus the vast jetting[64] coatand small bonnet, which was the habit in Harry the Seventh's time, iskept on in the yeomen of the guard; not without a good and politic view, because they look a foot taller, and a foot and an half broader: besidesthat the cap leaves the face expanded, and consequently more terrible, and fitter to stand at the entrances of palaces. 

"This predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after this manner, and hischeeks would be no larger than mine, were he in a hat as I am. He was thelast man that won a prize in the tilt-yard (which is now a common streetbefore Whitehall). You see the broken lance that lies there by his rightfoot; he shivered that lance of his adversary all to pieces; and bearinghimself, look you, sir, in this manner, at the same time he came withinthe target[65] of the gentleman who rode against him, and taking him withincredible force before him on the pommel of his saddle, he in thatmanner rid the tournament[66] over, with an air that showed he did itrather 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 trothe marched up to a gallery where their mistress sat (for they wererivals) and let him down with laudable courtesy and pardonableinsolence[67]. I don't know but it might be exactly where thecoffee-house is now. 

"You are to know this my ancestor was not only of a military genius, butfit also for the arts of peace, for he played on the bass-viol[68] as wellas any gentleman at court; you see where his viol hangs by his basket-hiltsword. The action at the tilt-yard you may be sure won the fair lady, whowas a maid of honour, and the greatest beauty of her time; here she standsthe next picture. You see, sir, my great-great-great-grandmother has onthe new-fashioned petticoat, except that the modern is gathered at thewaist: my grandmother appears as if she stood in a large drum, whereasthe ladies now walk as if they were in a go-cart. For all[69] this ladywas bred at court, she became an excellent country wife, she brought tenchildren, 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 inEngland both for an hasty-pudding and a white-pot. 

"If you please to fall back a little, because it is necessary to look atthe three next pictures at one view: these are three sisters. She on theright hand, who is so beautiful, died a maid; the next to her, stillhandsomer, had the same fate, against her will; this homely thing in themiddle had both their portions added to her own, and was stolen by aneighbouring gentleman, a man of stratagem and resolution, for hepoisoned three mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down twodeer-stealers in carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in all families:the theft of this romp and so much money, was no great matter to ourestate. But the next heir that possessed it was this soft gentleman, whomyou see there: observe the small buttons, the little boots, the laces, the slashes[70] about his clothes, and above all the posture he is drawnin, (which to be sure was his own choosing;) you see he sits with onehand on a desk writing and looking as it were another way, like an easywriter, or a sonneteer: he was one of those that had too much wit to knowhow to live in the world; he was a man of no justice, but great goodmanners; he ruined everybody that had anything to do with him, but neversaid a rude thing in his life; the most indolent person in the world, hewould 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 hiscountry. He is said to be the first that made love by squeezing the hand. He left the estate with ten thousand pounds debt upon it, but however byall hands I have been informed that he was every way the finest gentlemanin the world. That debt lay heavy on our house for one generation, but itwas retrieved by a gift from that honest man you see there, a citizen ofour name, but nothing at all akin to us. I know Sir Andrew Freeport hassaid behind my back, that this man was descended from one of the tenchildren of the maid of honour I showed you above; but it was never madeout. We winked at the thing indeed, because money was wanting at thattime. "

Here I saw my friend a little embarrassed, and turned my face to the nextportraiture. 

Sir Roger went on with his account of the gallery in the followingmanner. "This man" (pointing to him I looked at) "I take to be the honourof our house, Sir Humphrey de Coverley; he was in his dealings aspunctual as a tradesman, and as generous as a gentleman. He would havethought himself as much undone by breaking his word, as if it were to befollowed by bankruptcy. He served his country as knight of this shire[71]to his dying day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an integrity inhis words and actions, even in things that regarded the offices whichwere incumbent upon him, in the care of his own affairs and relations oflife, and therefore dreaded (though he had great talents) to go intoemployments of state, where he must be exposed to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great ability were the distinguishing parts of hischaracter; the latter, he had often observed, had led to the destructionof the former, and used frequently to lament that great and good had notthe same signification. He was an excellent husbandman, but had resolvednot to exceed such a degree[72] of wealth; all above it he bestowed insecret bounties many years after the sum he aimed at for his own use wasattained. Yet he did not slacken his industry, but to a decent old agespent the life and fortune which was superfluous to himself, in theservice of his friends and neighbours. "

Here we were called to dinner, and Sir Roger ended the discourse of[73]this gentleman, by telling me, as we followed the servant, that this hisancestor was a brave man, and narrowly escaped being killed in the civilwars; "For, " said he, "he was sent out of the field upon a privatemessage, the day before the battle of Worcester. " The whim[74] ofnarrowly escaping by having been within a day of danger, with othermatters above mentioned, mixed with good sense, left me at a loss whetherI was more delighted with my friend's wisdom or simplicity. 

 R. 

FOOTNOTES:

[63] _Conversation. _ Intercourse with. Compare note on p. 28. 

[64] _Jetting. _ Bulging. 

[65] _Target. _ Targe or small shield. 

[66] _Tournament. _ Lists. 

[67] _Insolence. _ Triumph. 

[68] _Bass-viol. _ Violoncello. 

[69] _For all. _ In spite of the fact that. 

[70] _Slashes. _ Ornamental slits in a doublet, etc. 

[71] _Knight of this shire. _ M. P. For the county. 

[72] _Such a degree. _ A fixed amount. 

[73] _Discourse of. _ Discourse about. 

[74] _Whim. _ Absurd notion. 

NO. 110. FRIDAY, JULY 6

 _Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent. _

 VIRG. _Æn. _ ii. Ver. 755. 

 All things are full of horror and affright, And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night. 

 DRYDEN. 

At a little distance from Sir Roger's house, among the ruins of an oldabbey, 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 thetops of them seem to be cawing in another region. I am very muchdelighted with this sort of noise, which I consider as a kind of naturalprayer to that Being who supplies the wants of his whole creation, andwho, in the beautiful language of the Psalms, feedeth the young ravensthat call upon him. I like this retirement the better, because of an illreport it lies under of being _haunted_; for which reason (as I have beentold in the family) no living creature ever walks in it besides thechaplain. My good friend the butler desired me with a very grave face notto venture myself in it after sunset, for that one of the footmen hadbeen almost frighted out of his wits by a spirit that appeared to him inthe shape of a black horse without an head; to which he added, that abouta month ago one of the maids coming home late that way with a pail ofmilk upon her head, heard such a rustling among the bushes that she letit fall. 

I was taking a walk in this place last night between the hours of nineand ten, and could not but fancy it one of the most proper scenes in theworld for a ghost to appear in. The ruins of the abbey are scattered upand down on every side, and half covered with ivy and elder bushes, theharbours of several solitary birds which seldom make their appearancetill the dusk of the evening. The place was formerly a churchyard, andhas still several marks in it of graves and burying-places. There is suchan echo among the old ruins and vaults, that if you stamp but a littlelouder than ordinary, you hear the sound repeated. At the same time thewalk of elms, with the croaking of the ravens which from time to time areheard from the tops of them, looks exceeding solemn and venerable. Theseobjects naturally raise seriousness and attention; and when nightheightens the awfulness of the place, and pours out her supernumerary[75]horrors upon everything in it, I do not at all wonder that weak mindsfill it with spectres and apparitions. 

Mr. Locke, in his chapter of the Association of Ideas, has verycurious[76] remarks to show how, by the prejudice of education[77], oneidea often introduces into the mind a whole set that bear no resemblanceto one another in the nature of things. Among several examples of thiskind, he produces the following instance. "The ideas of goblins andsprites have really no more to do with darkness than light: yet let but afoolish maid inculcate these often on the mind of a child, and raise themthere together, possibly he shall never be able to separate them again solong as he lives; but darkness shall ever afterwards bring with it thosefrightful ideas, and they shall be so joined, that he can no more bearthe one than the other. "

As I was walking in this solitude, where the dusk of the eveningconspired with so many other occasions of terror, I observed a cowgrazing not far from me, which an imagination that was apt to startlemight easily have construed into a black horse without an head: and Idare say the poor footman lost his wits upon some such trivial occasion. 

My friend Sir Roger has often told me with a good deal of mirth, that athis first coming to his estate he found three parts of his housealtogether useless; that the best room in it had the reputation of beinghaunted, and by that means[78] was locked up; that noises had been heardin his long gallery, so that he could not get a servant to enter it aftereight o'clock at night; that the door of one of the chambers was nailedup, because there went a story in the family that a butler had formerlyhanged himself in it; and that his mother, who lived to a great age, hadshut 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 sosmall a compass, and himself in a manner shut out of his own house, uponthe death of his mother ordered all the apartments to be flung open, andexorcised[79] by his chaplain, who lay in every room one after another, and by that means dissipated the fears which had so long reigned in thefamily. 

I should not have been thus particular upon these ridiculous horrors, didnot I find them so very much prevail in all parts of the country. At thesame time I think a person who is thus terrified with the imagination ofghosts and spectres, much more reasonable than one who, contrary to thereports of all historians sacred and profane, ancient and modern, and tothe traditions of all nations, thinks the appearance of spirits fabulousand groundless: could not I give myself up to this general testimony ofmankind, I should to the relations of particular persons who are nowliving, and whom I cannot distrust in other matters of fact. I might hereadd, that not only the historians, to whom we may join the poets, butlikewise the philosophers of antiquity have favoured this opinion. Lucretius[80] himself, though by the course of his philosophy he wasobliged to maintain that the soul did not exist separate from the body, makes no doubt of the reality of apparitions, and that men have oftenappeared after their death. This I think very remarkable. He was sopressed[81] with the matter of fact which he could not have theconfidence to deny, that he was forced to account for it by one of themost absurd unphilosophical notions that was ever started. He tells us, that the surfaces of all bodies are perpetually flying off from theirrespective bodies, one after another; and that these surfaces or thincases, that included each other whilst they were joined in the body likethe coats of an onion, are sometimes seen entire when they are separatedfrom it; by which means we often behold the shapes and shadows of personswho are either dead or absent. 

I shall dismiss this paper with a story out of Josephus, not so much forthe sake of the story itself as for the moral reflections with which theauthor concludes it, and which I shall here set down in his own words. "Glaphyra the daughter of King Archelaus, after the death of her twofirst husbands (being married to a third, who was brother to her firsthusband, and so passionately in love with her that he turned off hisformer 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 thatshe embraced him with great tenderness; when in the midst of the pleasurewhich she expressed at the sight of him, he reproached her after thefollowing manner: 'Glaphyra, ' says he, 'thou hast made good the oldsaying, That women are not to be trusted. Was not I the husband of thyvirginity? Have I not children by thee? How couldst thou forget our lovesso 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 shamefully crept into thebed of his brother? However, for the sake of our passed loves, I shallfree thee from thy present reproach, and make thee mine for ever. 'Glaphyra told this dream to several women of her acquaintance, and diedsoon after. I thought this story might not be impertinent in this place, wherein I speak of those kings: besides that the example deserves to betaken notice of, as it contains a most certain proof of the immortalityof the soul, and of Divine Providence. If any man thinks these factsincredible, let him enjoy his own opinion to himself, but let him notendeavour to disturb the belief of others, who by instances of thisnature are excited to the study of virtue. "

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[75] _Supernumerary. _ Additional. 

[76] _Curious. _ Interesting. 

[77] _Prejudice of education. _ Bent given to the mind by education. 

[78] _By that means. _ Because of that. 

[79] _Exorcised. _ Delivered from supernatural influence. 

[80] _Lucretius. _ Roman philosopher-poet: 95-52 B. C. 

[81] _Pressed. _ Compelled. 

NO. 112. MONDAY, JULY 9

 [Greek: Athanatous men prôta theous, nomô hôs diakeitai, Tima. ]

 PYTHAG. 

 First, in obedience to thy country's rites, Worship the immortal Gods. 

I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday; and think, ifkeeping holy the seventh day were only[82] a human institution, it wouldbe the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing andcivilising of mankind. It is certain the country people would soondegenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians, were there not suchfrequent returns of a stated time, in which the whole village meettogether with their best faces, and in their cleanliest habits, toconverse with one another upon indifferent subjects, hear their dutiesexplained to them, and join together in adoration of the Supreme Being. Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshesin their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexesupon appearing[83] in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all suchqualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. Acountry fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard, as acitizen does upon the 'Change, the whole parish politics being generallydiscussed in that place, either after sermon or before the bell rings. 

My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the insideof his church with several texts of his own choosing: he has likewisegiven a handsome pulpit cloth, and railed in the communion-table at hisown expense. He has often told me, that at his coming to his estate hefound his parishioners very irregular; and that, in order to make themkneel and join in the responses, he gave every one of them a hassock anda common-prayer-book; and at the same time employed an itinerantsinging-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to instructthem rightly in the tunes of the psalms; upon which they now very muchvalue themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that Ihave ever heard. 

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in verygood order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; for, if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, uponrecovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he seesanybody else nodding, either wakes them himself, or sends his servants tothem. Several other of the old Knight's particularities[84] break outupon these occasions: sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in thesinging psalms, half a minute after the rest of the congregation havedone with it; sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of hisdevotion, he pronounces "Amen" three or four times to the same prayer;and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to countthe congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing. 

I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midstof the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he wasabout, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it seems isremarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking hisheels for his diversion. This authority of the Knight, though exerted inthat odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, has avery good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to seeanything ridiculous in his behaviour; besides that, the general goodsense and worthiness of his character makes his friends observe theselittle singularities as foils, that rather set off than blemish his goodqualities. 

As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir till Sir Rogeris gone out of the church. The Knight walks down from his seat in thechancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to him oneach side; and every now and then inquires how such an one's wife, ormother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church; which isunderstood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. 

The chaplain has often told me, that upon a catechising day, when SirRoger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered abible to be given him next day for his encouragement; and sometimesaccompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger, haslikewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place: and that he mayencourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the churchservice, has promised upon the death of the present incumbent[85], who isvery old, to bestow it according to merit. 

The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and theirmutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable, because thevery next village is famous for the differences and contentions thatarise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state ofwar. The parson is always preaching at the squire, and the squire to berevenged on the parson never comes to church. The squire has made all histenants atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson instructs themevery Sunday in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to them inalmost every sermon, that he is a better man than his patron. In short, matters are come to such an extremity, that the squire has not said hisprayers either in public or private this half-year; and that the parsonthreatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray for him in theface of the whole congregation. 

Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very fatalto the ordinary people; who are so used to be dazzled with riches, thatthey pay as much deference to the understanding of a man of an estate, asof 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 knowthere are several men of five hundred a year, who do not believe it. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[82] _Only. _ Merely. 

[83] _Puts both the sexes upon appearing. _ Impels them to appear. 

[84] _Particularities. _ Peculiarities. 

[85] _Incumbent. _ Holder of the post. 

NO. 113. TUESDAY, JULY 10

 _Haerent infixi pectore vultus. _

 VIRG. _Æn. _ iv. Ver. 4. 

 Her looks were deep imprinted in his heart. 

In my first description of the company in which I pass most of my time, it may be remembered that I mentioned a great affliction which my friendSir Roger had met with in his youth; which was no less than adisappointment in love. It happened this evening that we fell into a verypleasing 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, "veryhard, that any part of my land should be settled[86] upon one who hasused me so ill as the perverse widow did; and yet I am sure I could notsee a sprig of any bough of this whole walk of trees, but I shouldreflect upon her and her severity. She has certainly the finest hand ofany woman in the world. You are to know this was the place wherein I usedto muse upon her; and by that custom I can never come into it, but thesame tender sentiments revive in my mind, as if I had actually walkedwith that beautiful creature under these shades. I have been fool enoughto carve her name on the bark of several of these trees; so unhappy isthe condition of men in love, to attempt the removing of their passionsby the methods which serve only to imprint it deeper. She has certainlythe finest hand of any woman in the world. "

Here followed a profound silence; and I was not displeased to observe myfriend falling so naturally into a discourse, which I had ever beforetaken notice he industriously avoided. After a very long pause he enteredupon an account of this great circumstance in his life, with an air whichI thought raised my idea of him above what I had ever had before; andgave me the picture of that cheerful mind of his, before it received thatstroke which has ever since affected his words and actions. But he wenton as follows. 

"I came to my estate in my twenty-second year, and resolved to follow thesteps of the most worthy of my ancestors who have inhabited this spot ofearth before me, in all the methods of hospitality and goodneighbourhood, for the sake of my fame; and in country sports andrecreations, for the sake of my health. In my twenty-third year I wasobliged to serve as sheriff of the county; and, in my servants, officers, and whole equipage, indulged the pleasure of a young man (who did notthink ill of his own person) in taking that public occasion of showing myfigure and behaviour to advantage. You may easily imagine to yourselfwhat appearance I made, who am pretty tall, rid[87] well, and was verywell dressed, at the head of a whole county, with music before me, afeather in my hat, and my horse well bitted. I can assure you I was not alittle pleased with the kind looks and glances I had from all thebalconies and windows as I rode to the hall where the assizes were held. But when I came there, a beautiful creature in a widow's habit sat incourt, to hear the event of a cause concerning her dower[88]. Thiscommanding creature (who was born for the destruction of all who beholdher) put on such a resignation in her countenance, and bore the whispersof all around the court, with such a pretty uneasiness, I warrant you, and then recovered herself from one eye to another, till she wasperfectly confused by meeting something so wistful in all sheencountered, that at last, with a murrain to her, she cast her bewitchingeye upon me. I no sooner met it, but I bowed like a great surprisedbooby; and knowing her cause to be the first which came on, I cried, likea captivated calf as I was, 'Make way for the defendant's witnesses. 'This sudden partiality made all the county immediately see the sheriffwas also become a slave to the fine widow. During the time her cause wasupon trial, she behaved herself, I warrant you, with such a deepattention to her business, took opportunities to have little billetshanded to her counsel, then would be in such a pretty confusion, occasioned, you must know, by acting before so much company, that notonly I, but the whole court was prejudiced in her favour; and all thatthe next heir to her husband had to urge, was thought so groundless andfrivolous, that when it came to her counsel to reply, there was not halfso much said as every one besides in the court thought he could haveurged to her advantage. You must understand, sir, this perverse woman isone of those unaccountable creatures, that secretly rejoice in theadmiration of men, but indulge themselves in no further consequences. Hence it is that she has ever had a train of admirers, and she removesfrom her slaves in town to those in the country, according to the seasonsof the year. She is a reading lady, and far gone in the pleasures offriendship: she is always accompanied by a confidant, who is witness toher daily protestations against our sex, and consequently a bar to herfirst steps towards love, upon the strength of her own maxims anddeclarations. 

[Illustration: She began a Discourse to me concerning Love and Honour]

"However, I must needs say this accomplished mistress of mine hasdistinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir Rogerde Coverley was the tamest and most humane[89] of all the brutes in thecountry. I was told she said so, by one who thought he rallied[90] me;but upon the strength of this slender encouragement of being thoughtleast detestable, I made new liveries, new-paired my coach-horses, sentthem all to town to be bitted, and taught to throw their legs well, andmove all together, before I pretended[91] to cross the country, and waitupon her. As soon as I thought my retinue suitable to the character of myfortune and youth, I set out from hence to make my addresses. Theparticular skill of this lady has ever been to inflame your wishes, andyet command respect. To make her mistress of this art, she has a greatershare of knowledge, wit, and good sense, than is usual even among men ofmerit. Then she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If you will notlet her go on with a certain artifice with her eyes, and the skill ofbeauty, she will arm herself with her real charms, and strike you withadmiration instead of desire. It is certain that if you were to beholdthe whole woman, there is that dignity in her aspect, that composure inher motion, that complacency in her manner, that if her form makes youhope, her merit makes you fear. But then again she is such a desperatescholar, that no country gentleman can approach her without being a jest. As I was going to tell you, when I came to her house I was admitted toher presence with great civility; at the same time she placed herself tobe first seen by me in such an attitude, as I think you call the postureof a picture, that she discovered[92] new charms, and I at last cametowards her with such an awe as made me speechless. This she no soonerobserved but she made her advantage of it, and began a discourse to meconcerning love and honour, as they both are followed by pretenders, andthe real votaries to them. When she discussed these points in adiscourse, which I verily believe was as learned as the best philosopherin Europe could possibly make, she asked me whether she was so happy asto fall in with my sentiments on these important particulars. Herconfidant sat by her, and upon my being in the last[93] confusion andsilence, this malicious _aide_ of hers turning to her says, 'I am veryglad to observe Sir Roger pauses upon this subject, and seems resolved todeliver all his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases to speak. 'They both kept their countenances, and after I had sat half an hourmeditating how to behave before such profound casuists, I rose up andtook my leave. Chance has since that time thrown me very often in herway, and she as often has directed a discourse to me which I do notunderstand. This barbarity has kept me ever at a distance from the mostbeautiful object my eyes ever beheld. It is thus also she deals with allmankind, and you must make love to her, as you would conquer the sphinx, by posing her[94]. But were she like other women, and that there were anytalking to her, how constant must the pleasure of that man be, who wouldconverse with a creature--But, after all, you may be sure her heart isfixed on some one or other; and yet I have been credibly informed--butwho can believe half that is said? After she had done speaking to me, sheput her hand to her bosom and adjusted her tucker. Then she cast her eyesa little down, upon my beholding her too earnestly. They say she singsexcellently: her voice in her ordinary speech has something in itinexpressibly sweet. You must know I dined with her at a public table theday after I first saw her, and she helped me to some tansy in the eye ofall the gentlemen in the country. She has certainly the finest hand ofany 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 formis angelic. But I find I grow irregular[95] while I am talking of her;but indeed it would be stupidity to be unconcerned at such perfection. Ohthe excellent creature! she is as inimitable to all women, as she isinaccessible to all men. "

I found my friend begin to rave, and insensibly[96] led him towards thehouse, that we might be joined by some other company; and am convincedthat the widow is the secret cause of all that inconsistency whichappears in some parts of my friend's discourse, though he has so muchcommand of himself as not directly to mention her, yet according to thatof Martial[97], which one knows not how to render into English, _Dumtacet hanc loquitur_. I shall end this paper with that whole epigram, which represents with much humour my honest friend's condition. 

 _Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est, nisi Naevia Rufo, Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur: Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit, una est Naevia; si non sit Naevia, mutus erit. Scriberet hesternâ patri cùm luce salutem, Naevia lux, inquit, Naevia numen, ave. _

 _Epig. _ lxix. L. 1. 

 Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk, Still he can nothing but of Nævia talk; Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute, Still he must speak of Nævia, or be mute. He writ to his father, ending with this line, I am, my lovely Nævia, ever thine. 

 R. 

FOOTNOTES:

[86] _Settled. _ An obscure expression. Possibly it means "bound upwith. "

[87] _Rid. _ Rode. 

[88] _Dower. _ Widow's portion of her husband's property. 

[89] _Humane. _ Civilised. 

[90] _Rallied. _ Bantered. 

[91] _Pretended. _ Presumed. 

[92] _Discovered. _ Displayed. 

[93] _Last. _ Utmost. 

[94] _Conquer the sphinx, by posing her. _ Reference to the story ofOedipus, who answered the riddle of the Sphinx, whereupon she destroyedherself. "Pose" her, _i. E. _, with a problem she cannot solve. 

[95] _Irregular. _ Incoherent. 

[96] _Insensibly. _ Without his noticing it. 

[97] _Martial. _ Latin satirist: 41-104 A. D. 

NO. 115. THURSDAY, JULY 12

 _Ut sit mens sana in corpore sano. _

 JUV. _Sat. _ x. Ver. 356. 

 A healthy body and a mind at ease. 

Bodily labour is of two kinds, either that which a man submits to for hislivelihood, or that which he undergoes for his pleasure. The latter ofthem generally changes the name of labour for that of exercise, butdiffers only from ordinary labour as it rises from another motive. 

A country life abounds in both these kinds of labour, and for that reasongives a man a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfectenjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. I consider the body asa system of tubes and glands, or to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle ofpipes and strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner asto make a proper engine for the soul to work with. This description doesnot only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, nerves, andarteries, but every muscle and every ligature, which is a composition offibres, that are so many imperceptible tubes or pipes interwoven on allsides with invisible glands or strainers. 

This general idea of a human body, without considering it in its nicetiesof anatomy, lets us see how absolutely necessary labour is for the rightpreservation of it. There must be frequent motions and agitations, tomix, digest, and separate the juices contained in it, as well as to clearand cleanse that infinitude of pipes and strainers of which it iscomposed, and to give their solid parts a more firm and lasting tone. Labour or exercise ferments the humours, casts them into their properchannels, throws off redundancies, and helps nature in those secretdistributions, without which the body cannot subsist in its vigour, northe soul act with cheerfulness. 

I might here mention the effects which this has upon all the faculties ofthe mind, by keeping the understanding clear, the imagination untroubled, and refining those spirits that are necessary for the proper exertion ofour intellectual faculties, during the present laws of union between souland body. It is to a neglect in this particular[98], that we must ascribethe spleen[99], which is so frequent in men of studious and sedentarytempers, as well as the vapours[99] to which those of the other sex areso often subject. 

Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our well-being, naturewould not have made the body so proper for it, by giving such an activityto the limbs, and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily producethese compressions, extensions, contortions, dilatations, and all otherkinds of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a systemof tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. And that we might notwant inducements to engage us in such an exercise of the body as isproper for its welfare, it is so ordered that nothing valuable can beprocured without it. Not to mention riches and honour, even food andraiment are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and sweat ofthe brows. Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we shouldwork them up ourselves. The earth must be laboured before it gives itsincrease, and when it is forced into its several products, how many handsmust they pass through before they are fit for use? Manufactures, trade, and agriculture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the speciesin twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labour, by thecondition[100] in which they are born, they are more miserable than therest of mankind, unless they indulge themselves in that voluntary labourwhich goes by the name of exercise. 

My friend Sir Roger has been an indefatigable man in business of thiskind, and has hung several parts of his house with the trophies of hisformer labours. The walls of his great hall are covered with the horns ofseveral kinds of deer that he has killed in the chase, which he thinksthe most valuable furniture of his house, as they afford him frequenttopics of discourse, and show that he has not been idle. At the lower endof the hall is a large otter's skin stuffed with hay, which his motherordered to be hung up in that manner, and the Knight looks upon it withgreat satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine years old when hisdog killed him. A little room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenalfilled with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which the Knighthas made great havoc in the woods, and destroyed many thousands ofpheasants, partridges and woodcocks. His stable doors are patched[101]with noses that belonged to foxes of the Knight's own hunting down. SirRoger showed me one of them, that for distinction sake has a brass nailstruck through it, which cost him about fifteen hours' riding, carriedhim through half a dozen counties, killed him a brace of geldings, andlost above half his dogs. This the Knight looks upon as one of thegreatest exploits of his life. The perverse widow, whom I have given someaccount of, was the death of several foxes; for Sir Roger has told methat in the course of his amours[102] he patched the western door of hisstable. Whenever the widow was cruel, the foxes were sure to pay for it. In proportion as his passion for the widow abated and old age came on, heleft off fox-hunting; but a hare is not yet safe that sits within tenmiles of his house. 

There is no kind of exercise which I would so recommend to my readers ofboth sexes as this of riding, as there is none which so much conduces tohealth, and is every way accommodated to the body, according to the_idea_ which I have given of it. Doctor Sydenham is very lavish in itspraises; and if the English reader will see the mechanical effects of itdescribed at length, he may find them in a book published not many yearssince, under the title of _Medicina Gymnastica_. For my own part, when Iam in town, for want of these opportunities, I exercise myself an hourevery morning upon a dumb bell that is placed in a corner of my room, andpleases me the more because it does everything I require of it in themost profound silence. My landlady and her daughters are so wellacquainted with my hours of exercise, that they never come into my roomto disturb me whilst I am ringing. 

When I was some years younger than I am at present, I used to employmyself in a more laborious diversion, which I learned from a Latintreatise of exercises that is written with great erudition: it is therecalled the [Greek: skiomachia], 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 either end. This opens the chest, exercises the limbs, and gives a man all the pleasure of boxing, withoutthe blows. I could wish that several learned men would lay out that timewhich they employ in controversies and disputes about nothing, in thismethod of fighting with their own shadows. It might conduce very much toevaporate the spleen, which makes them uneasy[103] to the public as wellas to themselves. 

To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I consider myself asobliged to a double scheme of duties; and think I have not fulfilled thebusiness of the day when I do not thus employ the one in labour andexercise, as well as the other in study and contemplation. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[98] _Particular. _ Respect. 

[99] _Spleen_, _vapours_. Attacks of depression or melancholy. 

[100] _Condition. _ Rank. 

[101] _Patched. _ Decorated. 

[102] _Amours. _ Courtship. 

[103] _Uneasy. _ Trying. 

NO. 116. FRIDAY, JULY 13

 _Vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron, Taygetique canes. _

 VIRG. _Georg. _ iii. Ver. 43. 

 The echoing hills and chiding hounds invite. 

Those who have searched into human nature observe that nothing so muchshows 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 outsomething to employ himself upon, in whatever place or state of life heis posted. I have heard of a gentleman who was under close confinement inthe Bastile seven years; during which time he amused himself inscattering a few small pins about his chamber, gathering them up again, and placing them in different figures on the arm of a great chair. Heoften told his friends afterwards, that unless he had found out thispiece of exercise, he verily believed he should have lost his senses. 

After what has been said, I need not inform my readers that Sir Roger, with whose character I hope they are at present pretty well acquainted, has in his youth gone through the whole course of those rural diversionswhich the country abounds in; and which seem to be extremely well suitedto that laborious industry a man may observe here in a far greater degreethan in towns and cities. I have before hinted at some of my friend'sexploits: he has in his youthful days taken forty coveys of partridgesin a season; and tired many a salmon with a line consisting but of asingle hair. The constant thanks and good wishes of the neighbourhoodalways attended him, on account of his remarkable enmity towards foxes;having destroyed more of those vermin in one year, than it was thoughtthe whole country could have produced. Indeed the Knight does not scrupleto own among his most intimate friends, that in order to establish hisreputation this way, he has secretly sent for great numbers of them outof other counties, which he used to turn loose about the country bynight, that he might the better signalise himself in their destructionthe next day. His hunting horses were the finest and best managed[104] inall these parts: his tenants are still full of the praises of a greystone-horse[105] that unhappily staked[106] himself several years since, and was buried with great solemnity in the orchard. 

Sir Roger, being at present too old for fox-hunting, to keep himself inaction, has disposed of his beagles and got a pack of stop-hounds[107]. What these want in speed, he endeavours to make amends for by thedeepness of their mouths[108] and the variety of their notes, which aresuited in such manner to each other, that the whole cry[109] makes up acomplete concert. He is so nice[110] in this particular, that agentleman having made him a present of a very fine hound the other day, the Knight returned it by the servant with a great many expressions ofcivility; but desired him to tell his master, that the dog he had sentwas indeed a most excellent bass, but that at present he only wanted acounter-tenor[111]. Could I believe my friend 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 flu'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew. Crook-knee'd and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls, Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouths like bells, Each under each: a cry more tuneable Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn. 

Sir Roger is so keen at this sport, that he has been out almost every daysince I came down; and upon the chaplain's offering to lend me his easypad, I was prevailed on yesterday morning to make one of the company. Iwas extremely pleased, as we rid along, to observe the generalbenevolence[112] of all the neighbourhood towards my friend. The farmer'ssons thought themselves happy if they could open a gate for the good oldKnight as he passed by; which he generally requited with a nod or asmile, and a kind inquiry after their fathers and uncles. 

After we had rid about a mile from home, we came upon a large heath, andthe sportsmen began to beat. They had done so for some time, when as Iwas at a little distance from the rest of the company, I saw a hare popout from a small furze-brake almost under my horse's feet. I marked theway she took, which I endeavoured to make the company sensible of byextending my arm; but to no purpose, until Sir Roger, who knows that noneof my extraordinary motions are insignificant, rode up to me, and askedme if puss was gone that way? Upon my answering "Yes, " he immediatelycalled 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 itwas a wonder they had not lost all their sport, for want of the silentgentleman's crying 'Stole away[113]. '"

This, with my aversion to leaping hedges, made me withdraw to a risingground, from whence I could have the pleasure of the whole chase, withoutthe fatigue of keeping in with the hounds. The hare immediately threwthem above a mile behind her; but I was pleased to find, that instead ofrunning straight forwards, or, in hunter's language, flying the country, as I was afraid she might have done, she wheeled about, and described asort of circle round the hill where I had taken my station, in suchmanner as gave me a very distinct view of the sport. I could see herfirst pass by, and the dogs some time afterwards unravelling the wholetrack she had made, and following her through all her doubles. I was atthe same time delighted in observing that deference which the rest ofthe pack paid to each particular hound, according to the character he hadacquired amongst them: if they were at a fault, and an old hound ofreputation opened but once, he was immediately followed by the whole cry;while a raw dog, or one who was a noted liar, might have yelped his heartout without being taken notice of. 

The hare now, after having squatted two or three times, and been put upagain as often, came still nearer to the place where she was at firststarted. The dogs pursued her, and these were followed by the jollyKnight, who rode upon a white gelding, encompassed by his tenants andservants, and cheering his hounds with all the gaiety of five and twenty. One of the sportsmen rode up to me, and told me that he was sure thechase was almost at an end, because the old dogs, which had hitherto lainbehind, now headed the pack. The fellow was in the right. Our hare took alarge field just under us, followed by the full cry in view. I mustconfess the brightness of the weather, the cheerfulness of everythingaround me, the chiding of the hounds, which was returned upon us in adouble echo from two neighbouring hills, with the hallooing of thesportsmen and the sounding of the horn, lifted my spirits into a mostlively pleasure, which I freely indulged because I knew it was innocent. If I was under any concern, it was on the account of the poor hare, thatwas now quite spent and almost within the reach of her enemies; when thehuntsman, getting forward, threw down his pole[114] before the dogs. They were now within eight yards of that game which they had beenpursuing for almost as many hours; yet on the signal before mentionedthey all made a sudden stand, and though they continued opening as muchas before, durst not once attempt to pass beyond the pole. At the sametime Sir Roger rode forward, and alighting, took up the hare in his arms;which he soon delivered to one of his servants, with an order, if shecould be kept alive, to let her go in his great orchard; where it seemshe has several of these prisoners of war, who live together in a verycomfortable captivity. I was highly pleased to see the discipline of thepack, and the good nature of the Knight, who could not find in his heartto murder a creature that had given him so much diversion. 

[Illustration: Chearing his Hounds with all the Gaiety of Five andTwenty]

As we were returning home, I remembered that Monsieur Paschal[115] in hismost excellent discourse on "the misery of man, " tells us, that "all ourendeavours after greatness proceed from nothing but a desire of beingsurrounded by a multitude of persons and affairs that may hinder us fromlooking into ourselves, which is a view we cannot bear. " He afterwardsgoes on to show that our love of sports comes from the same reason, andis particularly severe upon hunting. "What, " says he, "unless it be todrown thought, can make men throw away so much time and pains upon asilly animal, which they might buy cheaper in the market?" The foregoingreflection is certainly just, when a man suffers his whole mind to bedrawn into his sports, and altogether loses himself in the woods; butdoes not affect those who propose a far more laudable end for thisexercise; I mean, the preservation of health, and keeping all the organsof the soul in a condition to execute her orders. Had that incomparableperson, whom I last quoted, been a little more indulgent to himself inthis point, the world might probably have enjoyed him much longer:whereas, through too great an application to his studies in his youth, hecontracted that ill habit[116] of body, which, after a tedious sickness, carried him off in the fortieth year of his age; and the whole history wehave of his life till that time, is but one continued account of thebehaviour of a noble soul struggling under innumerable pains anddistempers. 

For my own part, I intend to hunt twice a week during my stay with SirRoger; and shall prescribe the moderate use of this exercise to all mycountry friends, as the best kind of physic for mending a badconstitution, and preserving a good one. 

I cannot do this better, than in the following lines out of Mr. Dryden:--

 The first physicians by debauch were made; Excess began, and sloth sustains the trade. By chase our long-liv'd fathers earn'd their food; Toil strung the nerves, and purifi'd the blood; But we their sons, a pamper'd race of men, Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten. Better to hunt in fields for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend. 

 X. 

FOOTNOTES:

[104] _Managed. _ Trained. 

[105] _Stone-horse. _ Stallion. 

[106] _Staked. _ Impaled. 

[107] _Stop-hounds. _ Hounds trained to go slowly and stop at a signalfrom the huntsman. 

[108] _Mouths. _ Cry. 

[109] _Cry. _ Pack. 

[110] _Nice. _ Precise, fastidious. 

[111] _Counter-tenor. _ Alto. 

[112] _Benevolence. _ Good-will. 

[113] _Stole away. _ The correct hunting cry which the Spectator shouldhave given. 

[114] _Pole. _ A leaping-pole carried by the huntsman, who was on foot, and thrown by him as a signal to the hounds to stop. 

[115] _Monsieur Paschal. _ French philosopher: 1622-62. 

[116] _Habit. _ Constitution. 

NO. 117. SATURDAY, JULY 14

 _Ipsi sibi somnia fingunt. _

 VIRG. _Ecl. _ viii. Ver. 108. 

 Their own imaginations they deceive. 

There are some opinions in which a man should stand neuter[117], withoutengaging[118] his assent to one side or the other. Such a hovering faithas this, which refuses to settle upon any determination[119], isabsolutely necessary in a mind that is careful to avoid errors andprepossessions. When the arguments press equally on both sides in mattersthat are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves toneither. 

It is with this temper of mind that I consider the subject of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that are made from all parts of the world, notonly from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but fromevery particular nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that thereis such an intercourse and commerce with evil spirits, as that which weexpress by the name of witchcraft. But when I consider that the ignorantand credulous parts of the world abound most in these relations, and thatthe persons among us, who are supposed to engage in such an infernalcommerce, are people of a weak understanding and crazed imagination, andat the same time reflect upon the many impostures and delusions of thisnature that have been detected in all ages, I endeavour to suspend mybelief till I hear more certain accounts than any which have yet come tomy knowledge. In short, when I consider the question whether there aresuch persons in the world as those we call witches, my mind is dividedbetween the two opposite opinions; or rather, (to speak my thoughtsfreely) I believe in general that there is, and has been such a thing aswitchcraft; but, at the same time, can give no credit to any particularinstance of it. 

I am engaged in this speculation by some occurrences that I met withyesterday, which I shall give my reader an account of at large. As I waswalking with my friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his woods, an oldwoman applied herself to me for my charity. Her dress and figure put mein mind of the following description in Otway:--

 In a close lane as I pursu'd my journey, I spy'd a wrinkled Hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red; Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd wither'd; And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd The tatter'd remnants of an old strip'd hanging, Which serv'd 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-colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow, And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness. 

As I was musing on this description, and comparing it with the objectbefore me, the Knight told me, that this very old woman had thereputation of a witch all over the country, that her lips were observedto be always in motion, and that there was not a switch about her housewhich her neighbours did not believe had carried her several hundreds ofmiles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found sticks or straws thatlay in the figure of a cross before her. If she made any mistake atchurch, and cried Amen in a wrong place, they never failed to concludethat she was saying her prayers backwards. There was not a maid in theparish that would take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag ofmoney with it. She goes by the name of Moll White, and has made thecountry ring with several imaginary exploits which are palmed upon her. If the dairy-maid does not make the butter come so soon as she would haveit, Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a horse sweats in thestable, Moll White has been upon his back. If a hare makes an unexpectedescape from the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. "Nay, " (says SirRoger) "I have known the master of the pack, upon such an occasion, sendone of his servants to see if Moll White had been out that morning. "

[Illustration: Moll White]

This account raised my curiosity so far, that I begged my friend SirRoger to go with me into her hovel, which stood in a solitary cornerunder the side of the wood. Upon our first entering Sir Roger winked tome, and pointed at something that stood behind the door, which, uponlooking that way, I found to be an old broomstaff. At the same time hewhispered me in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat that sat in thechimney-corner, which, as the old Knight told me, lay under as bad areport as Moll White herself; for, besides that Moll is said often toaccompany her in the same shape, the cat is reported to have spoken twiceor thrice in her life, and to have played several pranks above thecapacity of an ordinary cat. 

I was secretly concerned to see human nature in so much wretchedness anddisgrace, but at the same time could not forbear smiling to hear SirRoger, who is a little puzzled about the old woman, advising her as ajustice of peace to avoid all communication with the Devil, and never tohurt any of her neighbour's cattle. We concluded our visit with a bounty, which was very acceptable. 

In our return home Sir Roger told me, that old Moll had been oftenbrought before him for making children spit pins, and giving maids thenightmare; and that the country people would be tossing her into a pond, and trying experiments with her every day, if it was not for him and hischaplain. 

I have since found, upon inquiry, that Sir Roger was several timesstaggered with the reports that had been brought him concerning this oldwoman, and would frequently 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[120] in this account, because I hearthere is scarce a village in England that has not a Moll White in it. When an old woman begins to dote, and grow chargeable to a parish, sheis generally turned into a witch, and fills the whole country withextravagant fancies, imaginary distempers, and terrifying dreams. In themeantime, the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion of so many evilsbegins to be frighted at herself, and sometimes confesses secretcommerce[121] and familiarities that her imagination forms in a deliriousold age. This frequently cuts off charity from the greatest objects ofcompassion, and inspires people with a malevolence towards those poordecrepit parts of our species, in whom human nature is defaced byinfirmity and dotage. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[117] _Neuter. _ Neutral. 

[118] _Engaging. _ Binding. 

[119] _Determination. _ Fixed opinion. 

[120] _Been the more particular. _ Given fuller details. 

[121] _Commerce. _ Intercourse. 

NO. 118. MONDAY, JULY 16

 _Haeret lateri lethalis arundo. _

 VIRG. _Æn. _ iv. Ver. 73. 

 The fatal dart Sticks in his side, and rankles in his heart. 

 DRYDEN. 

This agreeable seat is surrounded with so many pleasing walks, which arestruck out of a wood, in the midst of which the house stands, that onecan hardly ever be weary of rambling from one labyrinth of delight toanother. To one used to live in a city the charms of the country are soexquisite, that the mind is lost in a certain transport which raises usabove ordinary life, and is yet not strong enough to be inconsistent withtranquillity. This state of mind was I in, ravished with the murmur ofwaters, the whisper of breezes, the singing of birds; and whether Ilooked up to the heavens, down to the earth, or turned on the prospectsaround me, still struck with new sense of pleasure; when I found by thevoice of my friend, who walked by me, that we had insensibly strolledinto the grove sacred to the widow. "This woman, " says he, "is of allothers the most unintelligible; she either designs to marry, or she doesnot. What is the most perplexing of all, is, that she doth not either sayto her lovers she has any resolution against that condition of life ingeneral, or that she banishes them; but, conscious of her own merit, shepermits their addresses, without fear of any ill consequence, or want ofrespect, from their rage or despair. She has that in her aspect, againstwhich it is impossible to offend. A man whose thoughts are constantlybent upon so agreeable an object, must be excused if the ordinaryoccurrences in conversation[122] are below his attention. I call herindeed perverse; but, alas! why do I call her so? Because her superiormerit is such, that I cannot approach her without awe, that my heart ischecked by too much esteem: I am angry that her charms are not moreacceptable, that I am more inclined to worship than salute[123] her: howoften have I wished her unhappy, that I might have an opportunity ofserving her? and how often troubled in that very imagination, at givingher the pain of being obliged? Well, I have led a miserable life insecret upon her account; but fancy she would have condescended to havesome regard for me, if it had not been for that watchful animal herconfidant. 

"Of all persons under the sun" (continued he, calling me by my name) "besure to set a mark upon confidants: they are of all people the mostimpertinent. What is most pleasant[124] to observe in them, is, that theyassume to themselves the merit of the persons whom they have in theircustody. Orestilla is a great fortune, and in wonderful danger ofsurprises, therefore full of suspicions of the least indifferent thing, particularly careful of new acquaintance, and of growing too familiarwith the old. Themista, her favourite woman, is every whit as careful ofwhom she speaks to, and what she says. Let the ward be a beauty, herconfidant shall treat you with an air of distance; let her be a fortune, and she assumes the suspicious behaviour of her friend and patroness. Thus it is that very many of our unmarried women of distinction, are toall intents and purposes married, except the consideration of[125]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 oneof these attendants of all men in general, and still avoid the man theymost like. You do not see one heiress in a hundred whose fate does notturn upon this circumstance of choosing a confidant. Thus it is that thelady is addressed to, presented[126] and flattered, only by proxy, in herwoman. In my case, how is it possible that--" Sir Roger was proceeding inhis harangue, when we heard the voice of one speaking very importunately, and repeating these words, "What, not one smile?" We followed the soundtill we came to a close thicket, on the other side of which we saw ayoung woman sitting as it were in a personated sullenness[127], just overa transparent fountain. Opposite to her stood Mr. William, Sir Roger'smaster of the game[128]. The Knight whispered me, "Hist! these arelovers. " The huntsman looking earnestly at the shadow of the young maidenin the stream, "Oh thou dear picture, if thou couldst remain there in theabsence of that fair creature whom you represent in the water, howwillingly could I stand here satisfied for ever, without troubling mydear Betty herself with any mention of her unfortunate William, whom sheis angry with: but alas! when she pleases to be gone, thou wilt alsovanish--yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. Tell my dearestBetty thou dost not more depend upon her, than does her William: herabsence will make away with me as well as thee. If she offers to removethee, I will jump into these waves to lay hold on thee; herself, her owndear person, I must never embrace again. --Still do you hear me withoutone 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 hismistress started up, and at the next instant he jumped across thefountain and met her in an embrace. She, half recovering from her fright, said, in the most charming voice imaginable, and with a tone ofcomplaint, "I thought how well you would drown yourself. No, no, youwon't drown yourself till you have taken your leave of Susan Holiday. "The huntsman, with a tenderness that spoke the most passionate love, andwith his cheek close to hers, whispered the softest vows of fidelity inher ear, and cried, "Don't, my dear, believe a word Kate Willow says; sheis spiteful, and makes stories because she loves to hear me talk toherself for your sake. " "Look you there, " quoth Sir Roger, "do you seethere, all mischief comes from confidants! But let us not interrupt them;the maid is honest, and the man dares not be otherwise, for he knows Iloved her father: I will interpose in this matter, and hasten thewedding. Kate Willow is a witty mischievous wench in the neighbourhood, who was a beauty, and makes me hope I shall see the perverse widow in hercondition. She was so flippant with her answers to all the honest fellowsthat came near her, and so very vain of her beauty, that she has valuedherself upon her charms till they are ceased. She therefore now makes ither business to prevent other young women from being more discreet thanshe was herself: however, the saucy thing said the other day wellenough, 'Sir Roger and I must make a match, for we are both despised bythose 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 not know whether in themain I am the worse for having loved her: whenever she is recalled to myimagination 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 have been incapable. It is, perhaps, to thisdear image in my heart owing that I am apt to relent, that I easilyforgive, and that many desirable things are grown into my temper, which Ishould not have arrived at by better motives than the thought of beingone day hers. I am pretty well satisfied such a passion as I have had isnever well cured; and, between you and me, I am often apt to imagine ithas had some whimsical[129] effect upon my brain: for I frequently find, that in my most serious discourse I let fall some comical familiarity ofspeech, or odd phrase, that makes the company laugh; however, I cannotbut allow she is a most excellent woman. When she is in the country Iwarrant she does not run into dairies, but reads upon[130] the nature ofplants; but has a glass-hive, and comes into the garden out of books tosee them work, and observe the policies[131] of their commonwealth. Sheunderstands everything. I would give ten pounds to hear her argue withmy friend Sir Andrew Freeport about trade. No, no, for all she looks soinnocent as it were, take my word for it she is no fool. "

 T. 

FOOTNOTES:

[122] _Conversation. _ General intercourse. 

[123] _Salute. _ Kiss. 

[124] _Pleasant. _ Ludicrous. 

[125] _Except the consideration of. _ Except in respect of. 

[126] _Presented. _ _I. E. _, with gifts. 

[127] _Personated sullenness. _ Pretended, or possibly the image of, sullenness. 

[128] _Master of the game. _ Huntsman. 

[129] _Whimsical. _ Fantastic. 

[130] _Upon. _ About. 

[131] _Policies. _ Organisation. 

NO. 122. FRIDAY, JULY 20

 _Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est. _

 PUBL. SYR. _Frag. _

 An agreeable companion upon the road is as good as a coach. 

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 interfereswith the former, it ought to be entirely neglected; but otherwise therecannot be a greater satisfaction to an honest mind, than to see thoseapprobations which it gives itself seconded by the applauses of thepublic: a man is more sure of his conduct, when the verdict he passesupon his own behaviour is thus warranted and confirmed by the opinion ofall that know him. 

My worthy friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at peacewithin himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives asuitable tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind, in the returnsof affection and good-will, which are paid him by every one that liveswithin his neighbourhood. I lately met with two or three odd instances ofthat general respect which is shown to the good old Knight. He wouldneeds carry Will Wimble and myself with him to the county assizes: as wewere upon the road Will Wimble joined a couple of plain men who ridbefore us, and conversed with them for some time; during which my friendSir Roger acquainted me with their characters. 

"The first of them, " says he, "that has a spaniel by his side, is ayeoman of about an hundred pounds a year, an honest man: he is justwithin the Game Act[132], and qualified to kill an hare or a pheasant: heknocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week; and by thatmeans lives much cheaper than those who have not so good an estate ashimself. He would be a good neighbour if he did not destroy so manypartridges: in short, he is a very sensible man; shoots flying; and hasbeen several times foreman of the petty jury. 

"The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a fellow famous fortaking the law of everybody. There is not one in the town where he livesthat he has not sued at the quarter sessions. The rogue had once theimpudence to go to law with the widow. His head is full of costs, damages, and ejectments: he plagued a couple of honest gentlemen so longfor a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, till he was forced to sellthe ground it inclosed to defray the charges of the prosecution: hisfather left him fourscore pounds a year; but he has cast and beencast[133] so often, that he is not now worth thirty. I suppose he isgoing upon the old business of the willow tree. "

[Illustration]

As Sir Roger was giving me this account of Tom Touchy, Will Wimble andhis two companions stopped short till we came up to them. After havingpaid their respects to Sir Roger, Will told him that Mr. Touchy and hemust appeal to him upon a dispute that arose between them. Will it seemshad been giving his fellow-traveller an account of his angling one day insuch a hole; when Tom Touchy, instead of hearing out his story, told himthat Mr. Such-a-one, if he pleased, might take the law of him for fishingin that part of the river. My friend Sir Roger heard them both, upon around trot[134]; and after having paused some time told them, with theair of a man who would not give his judgment rashly, that much might besaid on both sides. They were neither of them dissatisfied with theKnight's determination, because neither of them found himself in thewrong by it: upon which we made the best of our way to the assizes. 

The court was sat before Sir Roger came; but notwithstanding all thejustices had taken their places upon the bench, they made room for theold Knight at the head of them; who for his reputation in the county tookoccasion to whisper in the judge's ear, "That he was glad his Lordshiphad met with so much good weather in his circuit. " I was listening to theproceeding of the court with much attention, and infinitely pleased withthat great appearance and solemnity which so properly accompanies such apublic administration of our laws; when, after about an hour's sitting, Iobserved to my great surprise, in the midst of a trial, that my friendSir Roger was getting up to speak. I was in some pain for him, till Ifound he had acquitted himself of two or three sentences, with a look ofmuch business and great intrepidity. 

Upon his first rising the court was hushed, and a general whisper ranamong the country people, that Sir Roger was up. The speech he made wasso little to the purpose, that I shall not trouble my readers with anaccount of it; and I believe was not so much designed by the Knighthimself to inform the court, as to give him a figure in my eye, and keepup his credit in the country. 

I was highly delighted, when the court rose, to see the gentlemen of thecountry gathering about my old friend, and striving who should complimenthim most; at the same time that the ordinary people gazed upon him at adistance, not a little admiring his courage, that was not afraid to speakto the judge. 

In our return home we met with a very odd accident[135]; which I cannotforbear relating, because it shows how desirous all who know Sir Rogerare of giving him marks of their esteem. When we were arrived upon theverge of his estate, we stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and ourhorses. The man of the house had it seems been formerly a servant in theKnight's family; and to do honour to his old master, had some time since, unknown to Sir Roger, put him up in a sign-post before the door; so thatthe Knight's head had hung out upon the road about a week before hehimself knew anything of the matter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquaintedwith it, finding that his servant's indiscretion proceeded wholly fromaffection and good-will, he only told him that he had made him too high acompliment; and when the fellow seemed to think that could hardly be, added with a more decisive look, "That it was too great an honour for anyman under a duke"; but told him at the same time that it might be alteredwith a very few touches, and that he himself would be at the charge[136]of it. Accordingly they got a painter by the Knight's directions to adda pair of whiskers to the face, and by a little aggravation[137] of thefeatures to change it into the Saracen's Head. I should not have knownthis story had not the innkeeper, upon Sir Roger's alighting, told him inmy hearing, "That his honour's head was brought back last night with thealterations that he had ordered to be made in it. " Upon this my friend, with his usual cheerfulness, related the particulars above mentioned, andordered the head to be brought into the room. I could not forbeardiscovering greater expressions of mirth than ordinary upon theappearance of this monstrous face, under which, notwithstanding it wasmade to frown and stare in a most extraordinary manner, I could stilldiscover a distant resemblance of my old friend. Sir Roger upon seeing melaugh, desired me to tell him truly if I thought it possible for peopleto know him in that disguise. I at first kept my usual silence; but uponthe Knight's conjuring[138] me to tell him whether it was not still morelike himself than a Saracen, I composed my countenance in the best mannerI could, and replied, that much might be said on both sides. 

These several adventures, with the Knight's behaviour in them, gave me aspleasant a day as ever I met with in any of my travels. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[132] _Game Act. _ See note on p. 19. 

[133] _Cast and been cast. _ Won and lost his case. 

[134] _Upon a round trot. _ While trotting briskly. 

[135] _Accident. _ Incident. 

[136] _Charge. _ Expense. 

[137] _Aggravation. _ Exaggeration. 

[138] _Conjuring. _ Adjuring, entreating. 

NO. 130. MONDAY, JULY 30

 _Semperque recentes Convectare juvat praedas, et vivere rapto. _

 VIRG. _Æn. _ vii. Ver. 748. 

 Hunting their sport, and plund'ring was their trade. 

 DRYDEN. 

As I was yesterday riding out in the fields with my friend Sir Roger, wesaw at a little distance from us a troop of gipsies. Upon the firstdiscovery of them, my friend was in some doubt whether he should notexert[139] the Justice of the Peace upon such a band of lawless vagrants;but not having his clerk with him, who is a necessary counsellor on theseoccasions, and fearing that his poultry might fare the worse for it, helet the thought drop: but at the same time gave me a particular accountof the mischiefs they do in the country, in stealing people's goods andspoiling 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 inthe fields, it is ten to one but he becomes their prey; our geese cannotlive in peace for them; if a man prosecutes them with severity, hishen-roost is sure to pay for it: they generally straggle into these partsabout this time of the year; and set the heads of our servant-maids soagog for husbands, that we do not expect to have any business done as itshould be whilst they are in the country. I have an honest dairy-maidwho crosses their hands with a piece of silver every summer, and neverfails being promised the handsomest young fellow in the parish for herpains. 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 every time hisfortune is told him, generally shuts himself up in the pantry with an oldgipsy for above half an hour once in a twelvemonth. Sweethearts are thethings they live upon, which they bestow very plentifully upon all thosethat apply themselves to them. You see now and then some handsome youngjades among them: the sluts have very often white teeth and black eyes. "

[Illustration: Told him, That he had a Widow in his Line of Life]

Sir Roger observing that I listened with great attention to his accountof a people who were so entirely new to me, told me, that if I would theyshould tell us our fortunes. As I was very well pleased with the Knight'sproposal, we rid up and communicated our hands to them. A Cassandra[140]of the crew, after having examined my lines very diligently, told me, that I loved a pretty maid in a corner[141], that I was a good woman'sman, 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 twoor three that stood by him, they crumpled it into all shapes, anddiligently scanned every wrinkle that could be made in it; when one ofthem, who was older and more sunburnt than the rest, told him, that hehad a widow in his line of life: upon which the Knight cried, "Go, go, you are an idle baggage"; and at the same time smiled upon me. The gipsyfinding he was not displeased in his heart, told him, after a furtherinquiry into his hand, that his true-love was constant, and that sheshould dream of him to-night: my old friend cried "pish, " and bid her goon. The gipsy 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 stillrepeated she was an idle baggage, and bid her go on. "Ah, master, " saysthe gipsy, "that roguish leer of yours makes a pretty woman's heart ache;you ha'n't that simper about the mouth for nothing--" The uncouthgibberish with which all this was uttered, like the darkness of anoracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be short, the Knight leftthe money with her that he had crossed her hand with, and got up again onhis horse. 

As we were riding away, Sir Roger told me, that he knew several sensiblepeople who believed these gipsies now and then foretold very strangethings; and for half an hour together appeared more jocund than ordinary. In the height of his good-humour, meeting a common beggar upon the roadwho was no conjurer, as he went to relieve him he found his pocket waspicked; that being a kind of palmistry at which this race of vermin arevery dexterous. 

I might here entertain my reader with historical remarks on this idleprofligate people, who infest all the countries of Europe, and live inthe midst of governments in a kind of commonwealth by themselves. Butinstead of entering into observations of this nature, I shall fill theremaining part of my paper with a story which is still fresh in Holland, and was printed in one of our monthly accounts about twenty years ago. "As the _trekschuyt_, or hackney-boat, which carries passengers fromLeyden to Amsterdam, was putting off, a boy running along the side of thecanal desired to be taken in; which the master of the boat refused, because the lad had not quite money enough to pay the usual fare. Aneminent merchant being pleased with the looks of the boy, and secretlytouched with compassion towards him, paid the money for him, and orderedhim to be taken on board. Upon talking with him afterwards, he found thathe could speak readily in three or four languages, and learned uponfurther examination that he had been stolen away when he was a child by agipsy, and had rambled ever since with a gang of those strollers[142] upand down several parts of Europe. It happened that the merchant, whoseheart seems to have inclined towards the boy by a secret kind ofinstinct, had himself lost a child some years before. The parents, aftera long search for him, gave him for drowned in one of the canals withwhich that country abounds; and the mother was so afflicted at the lossof a fine boy, who was her only son, that she died for grief of it. Uponlaying together all particulars, and examining the several moles andmarks by which the mother used to describe the child when he was firstmissing, the boy proved to be the son of the merchant whose heart had sounaccountably melted at the sight of him. The lad was very well pleasedto find a father who was so rich, and likely to leave him a good estate;the father on the other hand was not a little delighted to see a sonreturn to him, whom he had given for lost, with such a strength ofconstitution, sharpness of understanding, and skill in languages. " Herethe printed story leaves off; but if I may give credit to reports, ourlinguist having received such extraordinary rudiments towards a goodeducation, was afterwards trained up in everything that becomes agentleman; wearing off by little and little all the vicious habits andpractices that he had been used to in the course of his peregrinations:nay, it is said, that he has since been employed in foreign courts uponnational business, with great reputation to himself and honour to thosewho sent him, and that he has visited several countries as a publicminister, in which he formerly wandered as a gipsy. 

 C. 

FOOTNOTES:

[139] _Exert. _ Exert the power of. 

[140] _Cassandra. _ Reference to the mad prophetess of that name in thestory of Troy. 

[141] _In a corner. _ In secret. 

[142] _Strollers. _ Vagabonds. 

NO. 131. TUESDAY, JULY 31

 _Ipsae rursum concedite sylvae. _

 VIRG. _Ecl. _ x. Ver. 63. 

 Once more, ye woods, adieu. 

It is usual for a man who loves country sports to preserve the game onhis own grounds, and divert himself upon those that belong to hisneighbour. My friend Sir Roger generally goes two or three miles from hishouse, and gets into the frontiers of his estate, before he beats aboutin search of a hare or partridge, on purpose to spare his own fields, where he is always sure of finding diversion, when the worst comes to theworst. By this means the breed about his house has time to increase andmultiply, beside that the sport is the more agreeable where the game isthe harder to come at, and where it does not lie so thick as to produceany perplexity or confusion in the pursuit. For these reasons the countrygentleman, like the fox, seldom preys near his own home. 

In the same manner I have made a month's excursion out of the town, whichis the great field of game for sportsmen of my species, to try my fortunein the country, where I have started several subjects, and hunted themdown, with some pleasure to myself, and I hope to others. I am hereforced to use a great deal of diligence before I can spring[143] anythingto my mind, whereas in town, whilst I am following one character, it isten to one but I am crossed in my way by another, and put up such avariety of odd creatures in both sexes, that they foil the scent of oneanother, and puzzle the chase. My greatest difficulty in the country isto find sport, and in town to choose it. In the meantime, as I have givena whole month's rest to the cities of London and Westminster, I promisemyself abundance of new game upon my return thither. 

It is indeed high time for me to leave the country, since I find thewhole neighbourhood begin to grow very inquisitive after my name andcharacter: my love of solitude, taciturnity, and particular[144] way oflife, having raised a great curiosity in all these parts. 

The notions which have been framed of me are various: some look upon meas very proud, some as very modest, and some as very melancholy. WillWimble, as my friend the butler tells me, observing me very much alone, and extremely 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 thatSir Roger has brought down a cunning man with him, to cure the old woman, and free the country from her charms. So that the character which I gounder in part of the neighbourhood, is what they here call a "whitewitch[145]. "

A justice of peace, who lives about five miles off, and is not of SirRoger's party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his table, that hewishes Sir Roger does not harbour a Jesuit in his house, and that hethinks the gentlemen of the country would do very well to make me givesome account of myself. 

On the other side, some of Sir Roger's friends are afraid the old Knightis imposed upon by a designing fellow, and as they have heard that heconverses very promiscuously[146] when he is in town, do not know but hehas brought down with him some discarded[147] Whig, that is sullen, andsays nothing because he is out of place. 

Such is the variety of opinions which are here entertained of me, so thatI pass among some for a disaffected person, and among others for a Popishpriest; among some for a wizard, and among others for a murderer; and allthis for no other reason, that I can imagine, but because I do not hootand hollow, and make a noise. It is true my friend Sir Roger tells them, _That it is my way_, and that I am only a philosopher; but this will notsatisfy them. They think there is more in me than he discovers[148], andthat I do not hold my tongue for nothing. 

For these and other reasons I shall set out for London to-morrow, havingfound by experience that the country is not a place for a person of mytemper, who does not love jollity, and what they call goodneighbourhood[149]. A man that is out of humour when an unexpected guestbreaks in upon him, and does not care for sacrificing an afternoon toevery chance-comer; that will be the master of his own time, and thepursuer of his own inclinations, makes but a very unsociable figure inthis kind of life. I shall therefore retire into the town, if I may makeuse of that phrase, and get into the crowd again as fast as I can, inorder to be alone. I can there raise what speculations I please uponothers, without being observed myself, and at the same time enjoy all theadvantages of company with all the privileges of solitude. In themeanwhile, to finish the month, and conclude these my rural speculations, I shall here insert a letter from my friend Will Honeycomb, who has notlived a month for these forty years out of the smoke of London, andrallies me after his way upon my country life. 

 DEAR SPEC, I suppose this letter will find thee[150] picking of daisies, 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 Moll White and Will Wimble. Prithee do not 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 thou art in love with one of Sir Roger's dairymaids. Service to the Knight. Sir Andrew is 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 commonwealth's men[151]. 

 Dear Spec, Thine eternally, WILL HONEYCOMB. 

 C. 

FOOTNOTES:

[143] _Spring. _ Start from its hiding-place. 

[144] _Particular. _ Peculiar. 

[145] _White witch. _ One who uses supernatural powers, but only for goodpurposes. 

[146] _Converses very promiscuously. _ Mixes with all sorts of people. 

[147] _Discarded. _ Out of office. 

[148] _Discovers. _ Reveals. 

[149] _Neighbourhood. _ Sociability. 

[150] _Thee. _ The now obsolete familiar use of _thou_ and _thee_. 

[151] _Commonwealth's men. _ Republicans. 

NO. 269. TUESDAY, JANUARY 8

 _Aevo rarissima nostro Simplicitas. _

 OVID, _Ars Am. _ lib. I. Ver. 241. 

 Most rare is now our old simplicity. 

 DRYDEN. 

I was this morning surprised with a great knocking at the door, when mylandlady's daughter came up to me, and told me that there was a man belowdesired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me itwas a very grave elderly person, but that she did not know his name. Iimmediately went down to him, and found him to be the coachman of myworthy friend Sir Roger de Coverley. He told me, that his master came totown last night, and would be glad to take a turn[152] with me in Gray'sInn walks. As I was wondering in myself what had brought Sir Roger totown, not having lately received any letter from him, he told me that hismaster was come up to get a sight of Prince Eugene[153], and that hedesired I would immediately meet him. 

I was not a little pleased with the curiosity of the old Knight, though Idid not much wonder at it, having heard him say more than once in privatediscourse, that he looked upon Prince Eugenio (for so the Knight alwayscalls him) to be a greater man than Scanderbeg[154]. 

I was no sooner come into Gray's Inn walks, but I heard my friend uponthe terrace hemming[155] twice or thrice to himself with great vigour, for he loves to clear his pipes in good air (to make use of his ownphrase), and is not a little pleased with any one who takes notice of thestrength which he still exerts in his morning hems. 

I was touched with a secret joy at the sight of the good old man, whobefore he saw me was engaged in conversation with a beggar man that hadasked an alms of him. I could hear my friend chide him for not findingout some work; but at the same time saw him put his hand in his pocketand give him sixpence. 

Our salutations were very hearty on both sides, consisting of many kindshakes of the hand, and several affectionate looks which we cast upon oneanother. After which the Knight told me my good friend his chaplain wasvery well, and much at my service, and that the Sunday before he had madea most incomparable sermon out of Dr. Barrow. "I have left, " says he, "all my affairs in his hands, and being willing to lay an obligation uponhim, have deposited with him thirty merks[156], to be distributed amonghis poor parishioners. "

He then proceeded to acquaint me with the welfare of Will Wimble. Uponwhich he put his hand into his fob[157], and presented me in his namewith a tobacco-stopper, telling me that Will had been busy all thebeginning of the winter in turning great quantities of them; and that hemade a present of one to every gentleman in the country who has goodprinciples, and smokes. He added, that poor Will was at present undergreat tribulation, for that Tom Touchy had taken the law of him forcutting some hazel-sticks out of one of his hedges. 

Among other pieces of news which the Knight brought from his countryseat, he informed me that Moll White was dead; and that about a monthafter her death the wind was so very high, that it blew down the end ofone of his barns. "But for my own part, " says Sir Roger, "I do not thinkthat the old woman had any hand in it. "

He afterwards fell into an account of the diversions which had passed inhis house during the holidays; for Sir Roger, after the laudable customof his ancestors, always keeps open house at Christmas. I learned fromhim that he had killed eight fat hogs for this season, that he had dealtabout his chines very liberally amongst his neighbours, and that inparticular he had sent a string of hogs-puddings with a pack of cards toevery poor family in the parish. "I have often thought, " says Sir Roger, "it happens very well that Christmas should fall out in the middle ofwinter. It is the most dead uncomfortable time of the year, when thepoor people would suffer very much from their poverty and cold, if theyhad not good cheer, warm fires, and Christmas gambols to support them. Ilove to rejoice their poor hearts at this season, and to see the wholevillage merry in my great hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to mysmall beer, and set it a running for twelve days to every one that callsfor it. I have always a piece of cold beef and a mince-pie upon thetable, and am wonderfully pleased to see my tenants pass away a wholeevening in playing their innocent tricks, and smutting one another[158]. Our friend Will Wimble is as merry as any of them, and shows a thousandroguish tricks upon these occasions. "

I was very much delighted with the reflection of my old friend, whichcarried so much goodness in it. He then launched out into the praise ofthe late Act of Parliament[159] for securing the Church of England, andtold me, with great satisfaction, that he believed it already began totake effect, for that a rigid dissenter who chanced to dine at his houseon Christmas Day, had been observed to eat very plentifully of hisplum-porridge[160]. 

After having dispatched all our country matters, Sir Roger made severalinquiries concerning the club, and particularly of his old antagonist SirAndrew Freeport. He asked me with a kind of a smile, whether Sir Andrewhad not taken the advantage of his absence, to vent among them some ofhis republican doctrines; but soon after gathering up his countenanceinto a more than ordinary seriousness, "Tell me truly, " says he, "do notyou think Sir Andrew had a hand in the Pope's procession[161]?"--butwithout giving me time to answer him, "Well, well, " says he, "I know youare a wary man, and do not care to talk of public matters. "

The Knight then asked me if I had seen Prince Eugenio, and made mepromise to get him a stand in some convenient place, where he might havea full sight of that extraordinary man, whose presence does so muchhonour to the British nation. He dwelt very long on the praises of thisgreat general, and I found that, since I was with him in the country, hehad drawn many just observations together out of his reading in Baker's_Chronicle_[162], and other authors, who always lie in his hall window, which very much redound to the honour of this prince. 

Having passed away the greatest part of the morning in hearing theKnight's reflections, which were partly private, and partly political, heasked me if I would smoke a pipe with him over a dish of coffee atSquire's. As I love the old man, I take delight in complying witheverything that is agreeable to him, and accordingly waited on[163] himto the coffee-house, where his venerable figure drew upon us the eyes ofthe whole room. He had no sooner seated himself at the upper end of thehigh table, but he called for a clean pipe, a paper of tobacco, a dish ofcoffee, a wax-candle, and the _Supplement_, with such an air ofcheerfulness and good humour, that all the boys[164] in the coffee-room(who seemed to take pleasure in serving him) were at once employed on hisseveral errands, insomuch that nobody else could come at a dish of tea, until the Knight had got all his conveniences about him. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[152] _Turn. _ Stroll. 

[153] _Prince Eugene. _ Prince of Savoy (1663-1736), who aidedMarlborough at Blenheim and elsewhere, and was at this time on a visitto London. 

[154] _Scanderbeg. _ George Castriota, a famous Albanian leader againstthe Turks (1403-68). 

[155] _Hemming. _ Clearing his throat. 

[156] _Merks. _ A merk is 13s. 4d. , but only as a measure of value, notan actual coin. Compare our present use of a guinea. 

[157] _Fob. _ Small pocket. 

[158] _Smutting one another. _ Blacking one another's faces in sport. 

[159] _Act of Parliament. _ Act of Occasional Uniformity, 1710. 

[160] _Rigid dissenter . . . Plum porridge. _ Many Puritans refused toobserve Christmas Day, regarding it as smacking of Popery. 

[161] _Pope's procession. _ An annual Whig demonstration. 

[162] _Baker's Chronicle. _ _Chronicle of the Kings of England_ (1643), by Sir Richard Baker. 

[163] _Waited on. _ Accompanied. 

[164] _Boys. _ Waiters. 

NO. 329. TUESDAY, MARCH 18

 _Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit, et Ancus. _

 HOR. _Ep. _ vi. L. I. Ver. 27. 

 With Ancus, and with Numa, kings of Rome, We must descend into the silent tomb. 

My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me the other night, that he had beenreading my paper upon Westminster Abbey, "in which, " says he, "there area great many ingenious fancies. " He told me at the same time, that heobserved I had promised another paper upon the Tombs, and that he shouldbe glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he hadread history. I could not at first imagine how this came into theKnight's head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all lastsummer upon Baker's _Chronicle_, which he has quoted several times in hisdisputes with Sir Andrew Freeport since his last coming to town. Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next morning, that we mightgo together to the Abbey. 

I found the Knight under his butler's hands, who always shaves him. Hewas no sooner dressed than he called for a glass of the widow Trueby'swater, which they told me he always drank before he went abroad. Herecommended to me a dram of it at the same time, with so much heartiness, that I could not forbear drinking it. As soon as I had got it down, Ifound it very unpalatable, upon which the Knight observing that I hadmade several wry faces, told me that he knew I should not like it atfirst, but that it was the best thing in the world against the stone orgravel. 

I could have wished indeed that he had acquainted me with the virtues ofit sooner; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had donewas out of goodwill. Sir Roger told me further, that he looked upon it tobe 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 thesickness being at Dantzick: when of a sudden, turning short to one of hisservants who stood behind him, he bid him call a hackney-coach, and takecare it was an elderly man that drove it. 

He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's water, telling me thatthe widow Trueby was one who did more good than all the doctors orapothecaries in the country: that she distilled every poppy that grewwithin five miles of her; that she distributed her water gratis among allsorts of people; to which the Knight added, that she had a very greatjointure[165], and that the whole country would fain have it a matchbetween him and her; "and truly, " says Sir Roger, "if I had not beenengaged[166], perhaps I could not have done better. "

His discourse was broken off by his man's telling him he had called acoach. Upon our going to it, after having cast his eye upon the wheels, he asked the coachman if his axle-tree was good; upon the fellow'stelling him he would warrant it, the Knight turned to me, told me helooked like an honest man, and went in without further ceremony. 

We had not gone far, when Sir Roger, popping out his head, called thecoachman down from his box, and, upon presenting himself at the window, asked him if he smoked; as I was considering what this would end in, hebid him stop by the way at any good tobacconist's and take in a roll oftheir best Virginia. Nothing material happened in the remaining part ofour 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 trophiesupon one of the new monuments, and cried out, "A brave man, I warranthim!" Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudesley Shovel[167], he flung hishand that way, and cried, "Sir Cloudesley Shovel! a very gallant man!" Ashe stood before Busby's tomb, the Knight uttered himself again after thesame manner, "Dr. Busby[168], a great man! he whipped my grandfather; avery great man! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been ablockhead; a very great man!"

We were immediately conducted to the little chapel on the right hand. SirRoger, planting himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive toeverything he said, particularly to the account he gave us of the lordwho had cut off the King of Morocco's head. Among several other figures, he was very well pleased to see the statesman Cecil[169] upon his knees;and concluding them all to be great men, was conducted to the figurewhich represents that martyr to good housewifery, who died by the prickof a needle. Upon our interpreter's telling us that she was a maid ofhonour to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitive into her nameand family; and after having regarded her finger for some time, "Iwonder, " 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 friendafter having heard that the stone underneath the most ancient of them, which was brought from Scotland, was called "Jacob's pillar, " sat himselfdown 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 everbeen in Scotland? The fellow, instead of returning him an answer, toldhim, that he hoped his honour would pay his forfeit[170]. I could observeSir Roger a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but our guide notinsisting upon his demand, the Knight soon recovered his good humour, andwhispered in my ear, that if Will Wimble were with us, and saw those twochairs, it would go hard but he would get a tobacco-stopper out of one orthe other of them. 

Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon Edward the Third'ssword, and leaning upon the pommel[171] of it, gave us the whole historyof the Black Prince; concluding, that, in Sir Richard Baker's opinion, Edward the Third was one of the greatest princes that ever sat upon theEnglish throne. 

We were then shown Edward the Confessor's tomb; upon which Sir Rogeracquainted us, that he was the first who touched for the evil[172]; andafterwards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his head, and told usthere was fine reading in the casualties[173] of that reign. 

Our conductor then pointed to that monument where there is the figure ofone of our English kings without an head; and upon giving us to know, that the head, which was of beaten silver, had been stolen away severalyears since: "Some Whig, I'll warrant you, " says Sir Roger; "you ought tolock up your kings better; they will carry off the body too, if you don'ttake care. "

The glorious names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabeth gave the Knightgreat opportunities of shining, and of doing justice to Sir RichardBaker; who, as our Knight observed with some surprise, had a great manykings in him, whose monuments he had not seen in the Abbey. 

For my own part, I could not but be pleased to see the Knight show suchan honest passion for the glory of his country, and such a respectfulgratitude to the memory of its princes. 

I must not omit, that the benevolence of my good old friend, which flowsout towards every one he converses with, made him very kind to ourinterpreter, whom he looked upon as an extraordinary man; for whichreason he shook him by the hand at parting, telling him, that he shouldbe very glad to see him at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talkover these matters with him more at leisure. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[165] _Jointure. _ Settlement. 

[166] _Engaged. _ Pledged. 

[167] _Sir Cloudesley Shovel. _ Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovel, drownedoff the Scilly Isles, 1707. 

[168] _Dr. Busby. _ The famous flogging headmaster of Westminster. 

[169] _Cecil. _ Lord Burleigh, Queen Elizabeth's Lord High Treasurer. 

[170] _Forfeit. _ Gratuity due for sitting in the chair. 

[171] _Pommel. _ Part of the hilt. 

[172] _Touched for the evil. _ The royal touch was regarded as a cure forscrofula as late as Queen Anne's time. 

[173] _Casualties. _ Incidents. 

NO. 335. TUESDAY, MARCH 25

 _Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo Doctum imitatorem, et veras hinc ducere voces. _

 HOR. _Ars Poet. _ ver. 317. 

 Those are the likest copies, which are drawn From the original of human life. 

 ROSCOMMON. 

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[174] with me, assuring me at the same time, that he had not been at a play these twentyyears. "The last I saw, " said Sir Roger, "was the _Committee_, which Ishould not have gone to neither, had not I been told beforehand that itwas a good Church of England comedy. " He then proceeded to inquire of mewho this Distressed Mother was; and upon hearing that she was Hector'swidow, he told me that her husband was a brave man, and that when he wasa schoolboy he had read his life at the end of the dictionary. My friendasked me, in the next place, if there would not be some danger in cominghome late, in case the Mohocks[175] should be abroad. "I assure you, "says he, "I thought I had fallen into their hands last night; for Iobserved two or three lusty black men that followed me half-way up FleetStreet, and mended their pace behind me, in proportion as I put on[176]to get away from them. You must know, " continued the Knight with a smile, "I fancied they had a mind to _hunt_ me; for I remember an honestgentleman in my neighbourhood, who was served such a trick in KingCharles the Second's time, for which reason he has not ventured himselfin town ever since. I might have shown them very good sport, had thisbeen their design; for as I am an old fox-hunter, I should have turnedand dodged, and have played them a thousand tricks they had never seen intheir lives before. " Sir Roger added, that if these gentlemen had anysuch intention, they did not succeed very well in it; "for I threw themout, " 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 becomeof me. However, " says the Knight, "if Captain Sentry will make one withus to-morrow night, and if you will both of you call upon me about fouro'clock, that we may be at the house before it is full, I will have mycoach in readiness to attend you, for John tells me he has got thefore-wheels mended. "

The Captain, who did not fail to meet me there at the appointed hour, bidSir Roger fear nothing, for that he had put on the same sword which hemade use of at the battle of Steenkirk. Sir Roger's servants, and amongthe rest my old friend the butler, had, I found, provided themselves withgood oaken plants, to attend their master upon this occasion. When wehad placed him in his coach, with myself at his left hand, the Captainbefore him, and his butler at the head of his footmen in the rear, weconveyed him in safety to the play-house, where after having marched upthe entry in good order, the Captain and I went in with him, and seatedhim betwixt us in the pit. As soon as the house was full, and the candleslighted, my old friend stood up and looked about him with that pleasure, which a mind seasoned with humanity[177] naturally feels in itself, atthe sight of a multitude of people who seemed pleased with one another, and partake of the same common entertainment. I could not but fancy tomyself, as the old man stood up in the middle of the pit, that he made avery proper centre to a tragic audience. Upon the entering ofPyrrhus[178], the Knight told me that he did not believe the King ofFrance himself had a better strut. I was indeed very attentive to my oldfriend's remarks, because I looked upon them as a piece of naturalcriticism, and was well pleased to hear him, at the conclusion of almostevery scene, telling me that he could not imagine how the play would end. One while he appeared much concerned for Andromache; and a little whileafter as much for Hermione; and was extremely puzzled to think what wouldbecome of Pyrrhus. 

When Sir Roger saw Andromache's obstinate refusal to her lover'simportunities, he whispered me in the ear, that he was sure she wouldnever have him; to which he added, with a more than ordinary vehemence, "You cannot imagine, sir, what it is to have to do with a widow. " UponPyrrhus his[179] threatening afterwards to leave her, the Knight shookhis head and muttered to himself, "Ay, do if you can. " This part dwelt somuch upon my friend's imagination, that at the close of the third act, asI was thinking of something else, he whispered me in the ear, "Thesewidows, sir, are the most perverse creatures in the world. But pray, "says he, "you that are a critic, is the play according to your dramaticrules, as you call them? Should your people in tragedy always talk to beunderstood? Why, there is not a single sentence in this play that I donot know the meaning of. "

The fourth act very luckily begun before I had time to give the oldgentleman an answer: "Well, " says the Knight, sitting down with greatsatisfaction, "I suppose we are now to see Hector's ghost. " He thenrenewed his attention, and, from time to time, fell a praising the widow. He made, indeed, a little mistake as to one of her pages, whom at hisfirst entering he took for Astyanax[180]; but quickly set himself rightin that particular, though, at the same time, he owned he should havebeen very glad to have seen the little boy, "who, " says he, "must needsbe a very fine child by the account that is given of him. " UponHermione's going off with a menace to Pyrrhus, the audience gave a loudclap, to which Sir Roger added, "On my word, a notable young baggage!"

As there was a very remarkable silence and stillness in the audienceduring the whole action, it was natural for them to take the opportunityof the intervals between the acts, to express their opinion of theplayers, and of their respective parts. Sir Roger hearing a cluster ofthem praise Orestes, struck in with them, and told them, that he thoughthis friend Pylades was a very sensible man; as they were afterwardsapplauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a second time: "And let me tellyou, " says he, "though he speaks but little, I like the old fellow inwhiskers as well as any of them. " Captain Sentry seeing two or threewags, who sat near us, lean with an attentive ear towards Sir Roger, andfearing lest they should smoke[181] the Knight, plucked him by the elbow, and whispered something in his ear, that lasted till the opening of thefifth act. The Knight was wonderfully attentive to the account whichOrestes gives of Pyrrhus his death, and at the conclusion of it, told meit was such a bloody piece of work, that he was glad it was not done uponthe stage. Seeing afterwards Orestes in his raving fit, he grew more thanordinary serious, and took occasion to moralise (in his way) upon an evilconscience, adding, that _Orestes, in his madness, looked as if he sawsomething_. 

As we were the first that came into the house, so we were the last thatwent out of it; being resolved to have a clear passage for our oldfriend, whom we did not care to venture among the justling of the crowd. Sir Roger went out fully satisfied with his entertainment, and we guardedhim to his lodging in the same manner that we brought him to theplay-house; being highly pleased, for my own part, not only with theperformance of the excellent piece which had been presented, but with thesatisfaction which it had given to the old man. 

 L. 

FOOTNOTES:

[174] _New tragedy. _ _The Distressed Mother_, by Ambrose Phillips. 

[175] _Mohocks. _ Gangs of rowdies who roamed the streets at night andassaulted passers-by. See _Spectator_, NO. 324

[176] _Put on. _ Put on speed. 

[177] _Seasoned with humanity. _ Tempered with kindliness. 

[178] _Pyrrhus. _ Son of Achilles, to whom Hector's widow, Andromache, had fallen as his share of the plunder of Troy. 

[179] _Pyrrhus his. _ This use is due to a wrong idea that the possessivetermination is an abbreviation of _his_. 

[180] _Astyanax. _ Son of Hector and Andromache (and subject of one ofthe most touching passages in Homer). 

[181] _Smoke. _ A slang word, equivalent to the modern _rag_. 

NO. 383. TUESDAY, MAY 20

 _Criminibus debent hortos. _

 JUV. _Sat. _ i. Ver. 75. 

 A beauteous garden, but by vice maintain'd. 

As I was sitting in my chamber and thinking on a subject for my next_Spectator_, I heard two or three irregular bounces[182] at my landlady'sdoor, and upon the opening of it, a loud cheerful voice inquiring whetherthe Philosopher was at home. The child who went to the door answered veryinnocently, that he did not lodge there. I immediately recollected[183]that it was my good friend Sir Roger's voice; and that I had promised togo with him on the water to Spring Garden[184], in case it proved a goodevening. The Knight put me in mind of my promise from the bottom of thestaircase, but told me that if I was speculating[185] he would stay belowtill I had done. Upon my coming down I found all the children of thefamily got about my old friend, and my landlady herself, who is a notableprating gossip, engaged in a conference with him; being mightily pleasedwith his stroking her little boy upon the head, and bidding him be a goodchild, and mind his book. 

We were no sooner come to the Temple stairs, but we were surrounded witha crowd of watermen offering us their respective services. Sir Roger, after having looked about him very attentively, spied one with a woodenleg, and immediately gave him orders to get his boat ready. As we werewalking towards it, "You must know, " says Sir Roger, "I never make use ofany body to row me, that has not either lost a leg or an arm. I wouldrather bate him a few strokes of his oar[186] than not employ an honestman that has been wounded in the Queen's service. If I was a lord or abishop, and kept a barge, I would not put a fellow in my livery that hadnot a wooden leg. "

[Illustration: I found all the Children of the Family got about my oldFriend]

My old friend, after having seated himself, and trimmed[187] the boatwith his coachman, who, being a very sober man, always serves forballast on these occasions, we made the best of our way for Fox-Hall. SirRoger obliged the waterman to give us the history of his right leg, andhearing that he had left it at La Hogue, with many particulars whichpassed in that glorious action, the Knight in the triumph of his heartmade several reflections on the greatness of the British nation; as, thatone Englishman could beat three Frenchmen; that we could never be indanger of popery so long as we took care of our fleet; that the Thameswas the noblest river in Europe, that London Bridge was a greater pieceof work than any of the seven wonders of the world; with many otherhonest prejudices which naturally cleave to the heart of a trueEnglishman. 

After some short pause, the old Knight turning about his head twice orthrice, to take a survey of this great metropolis, bid me observe howthick the city was set with churches, and that there was scarce a singlesteeple on this side Temple Bar. "A most heathenish sight!" says SirRoger: "there is no religion at this end of the town. The fifty newchurches[188] will very much mend the prospect; but church work is slow, church work is slow!"

I do not remember I have anywhere mentioned in Sir Roger's character, hiscustom of saluting everybody that passes by him with a good-morrow or agood-night. This the old man does out of the overflowings of hishumanity, though at the same time it renders him so popular among all hiscountry neighbours, that it is thought to have gone a good way in makinghim once or twice knight of the shire[189]. He cannot forbear thisexercise of benevolence even in town, when he meets with any one in hismorning or evening walk. It broke from him to several boats that passedby us upon the water; but to the Knight's great surprise, as he gave thegood-night to two or three young fellows a little before our landing, oneof them, instead of returning the civility, asked us, what queer oldput[190] we had in the boat? with a great deal of the like Thamesribaldry. Sir Roger seemed a little shocked at first, but at lengthassuming a face of magistracy, told us, "That if he were a Middlesexjustice, he would make such vagrants know that her Majesty's subjectswere no more to be abused by water than by land. "

We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which is exquisitely pleasant atthis time of the year. When I considered the fragrancy of the walks andbowers, with the choirs of birds that sung upon the trees, and the loosetribe of people that walked under their shades, I could not but look uponthe place as a kind of Mahometan paradise. Sir Roger told me it put himin mind of a little coppice by his house in the country, which hischaplain used to call an aviary of nightingales. "You must understand, "says the Knight, "there is nothing in the world that pleases a man inlove so much as your nightingale. Ah, Mr. Spectator! the many moonlightnights that I have walked by myself, and thought on the widow by themusic of the nightingale!" He here fetched a deep sigh, and was fallinginto a fit of musing, when a mask, who came behind him, gave him agentle tap upon the shoulder, and asked him if he would drink a bottle ofmead with her? But the Knight, being startled at so unexpected afamiliarity, and displeased to be interrupted in his thoughts of thewidow, told her, "she was a wanton baggage, " and bid her go about herbusiness. 

We concluded our walk with a glass of Burton ale, and a slice ofhung[191] beef. When we had done eating ourselves, the Knight called awaiter to him, and bid him carry the remainder to the waterman that hadbut one leg. I perceived the fellow stared upon him at the oddness of themessage, and was going to be saucy; upon which I ratified the Knight'scommands with a peremptory look. 

 I. 

FOOTNOTES:

[182] _Bounces. _ Loud knocks. 

[183] _Recollected. _ We should now say _recognised_. 

[184] _Spring Garden. _ At Vauxhall. 

[185] _Speculating. _ Ruminating. 

[186] _Bate him a few strokes of his oar. _ Excuse his rowing slowly. 

[187] _Trimmed. _ Balanced. 

[188] _The fifty new churches. _ Voted by Parliament in 1711 for thewestern suburbs. 

[189] _Knight of the shire. _ M. P. See p. 44. 

[190] _Put. _ Rustic, boor. 

[191] _Hung. _ Salted or spiced. 

NO. 517. THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23

 _Heu pietas! heu prisca fides!_

 VIRG. _Æn. _ vi. Ver. 878. 

 Mirror of ancient faith! Undaunted worth! Inviolable truth!

 DRYDEN. 

We last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which verysensibly[192] afflicted every one of us. I question not but my readersthemselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longerin suspense, Sir Roger de Coverley _is dead_. He departed this life athis house in the country, after a few weeks' sickness. Sir AndrewFreeport has a letter from one of his correspondents in those parts, thatinforms him the old man caught a cold at the country sessions, as he wasvery warmly promoting[193] an address of his own penning, in which hesucceeded according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a Whigjustice of peace, who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antagonist. I haveletters both from the chaplain and Captain Sentry, which mention nothingof it, but are filled with many particulars to the honour of the good oldman. I have likewise a letter from the butler, who took so much care ofme last summer when I was at the Knight's house. As my friend the butlermentions, in the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances theothers have passed over in silence, I shall give my reader a copy of hisletter, without any alteration or diminution. 

 HONOURED SIR, Knowing that you was[194] my old master's good friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which has afflicted the whole country[195], as well 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 country sessions, where he would go to see justice done to a poor widow woman and her fatherless children, that had been wronged by a neighbouring 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 roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin, which was served up according to custom; and 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 made love to the forty last years of his life; but this only proved a lightning[196] 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 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 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 frieze 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, whilst we were not able to speak a word for weeping. As we most of us are grown grey-headed in our dear master's service, he has left us pensions and legacies, which we may live very comfortably upon the remaining part of our days. He has bequeathed a great deal more in charity, which is not yet come to my knowledge, and it is peremptorily[197] said in the parish, that he has left money to build a steeple to the church; for he was heard to say some time ago, that if he lived two years longer, Coverley church should have a steeple to 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 Coverleys, on the left hand of his father Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried by six of his tenants, and the pall held by six of the Quorum: the whole parish followed the corpse with heavy hearts, and in their mourning suits, the men in frieze, and the women in riding-hoods. Captain Sentry, my master's nephew, has taken possession of the hall-house, and 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 a good use of it, and to pay the several legacies, and the gifts of charity which he told him he had left as quit-rents[198] 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 shows great kindnesses 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 never joyed himself since; no more has any of us. It was the melancholiest day for the poor people that ever happened in Worcestershire. This is all from, Honoured Sir, Your most sorrowful 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 Andrew Freeport, in his name. 

This letter, notwithstanding the poor butler's manner of writing it, gaveus such an idea of our good old friend, that upon the reading of it therewas not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew opening the book, found it tobe a collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in particular the Actof Uniformity, with some passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own hand. Sir Andrew found that they related to two or three points, which he haddisputed with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the club. SirAndrew, who would have been merry at such an incident on anotheroccasion, at the sight of the old man's handwriting burst into tears, andput the book into his pocket. Captain Sentry informs me, that the Knighthas left rings and mourning for every one in the club. 

 O. 

FOOTNOTES:

[192] _Sensibly. _ Keenly. 

[193] _Promoting. _ Urging the adoption of. 

[194] _You was. _ A common seventeenth-century use with the singular_you_. 

[195] _Country. _ Country-side. 

[196] _Lightning. _ Last flash of life (quotation from Shakespeare). 

[197] _Peremptorily. _ Confidently. 

[198] _Quit-rents. _ Charges on the estate. 

[Illustration]