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THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 


SELECTIONS 

FROM 

ADDISON  AND  STEELE 


-ff\ 


Copyright,  1921,  by 

CBi^RLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
A 


m  I  !  1921 


THE   SCRIBNER   PRESS 

©CI.A614675 


/ 


1  CONTENTS 

The  Tatler 

No.     1.  Tuesday,  April  12,  1Y09.     SteeU       . 

No.    11.  Thursday,   May   6,   1709.     SteeU       . 

No.    25.  Tuesday,   June   7,   1709.     Steele 

No.   41.  Tuesday,  July  14,  1709.     Steele       . 

No.    42.  Saturday,  July  16,  1709.     Steele       . 

No.  132.  Saturday,  February  11, 1709-10.    Steele 

No.  155.  Thursday,  April  6,  1710.     Addison     . 

No.  158.  Thursday,  April  13,  1710.    Addison    . 

No.  161.  Thursday,  April  20,  1710.    Addison   . 

No.  163.  Tuesday,  April  25,  1710.    Addison     . 

No.  181.  Tuesday,   June  6,  1710.     Steele 

No.  229.  Tuesday,  September  26,  1710.    Addison 

No.  249.  Saturday,  November  11,  1710.    Addison 

No.  271.  Tuesday,  January  2,  1710.     Steele      . 

The  Spectator 

No.     1.  Thursday,  March  1, 1711.    Addison    . 

No.      2.  Friday,  March  2, 1711.    Steele     . 

No.      3.  Saturday,  March  3,  1711.    Addison    . 

No.     7.  Thursday,  March  8,  1711.    Addison    . 

No.    10.  Monday,  March  12,  1711.    Addison    . 

No.    13.  Thursday,  March  15, 1711.    Addison  . 

No.    28.  Monday,  April  2,  1711.    Addison       . 


vi  CONTENTS 

The  Spectator  (Continued) 

No.    35.     Tuesday,  April  10,  1711.    Addison      .  .  76 

Wednesday,  March  7,  1711.    Steele     .  .  80 

Saturday,  March  10,  1710-11.    Addison  .  84 

Tuesday,  March  20,  1710-11.    Steele   .  .  88 

Wednesday,  March  21,  1710-11.     Addison  92 

Friday,  March  20,  1711.    Addison      .  •  96 

Wednesday,  April  4,  1711.    Steele       .  .  100 

Monday,  April  9,  1917.     Addison      .  .  103 

Thursday,  April  12,  1711.    Addison    .  .  (l07. 

Saturday,  April  14,  1711.    Addison     .  .  Ill 

Wednesday,  April  18,  1711.     Addison  .  115 

Friday,  April  20,  1711.     Addison       .  .  118 

Tuesday,  April  24,  1711.     Addison     .  .  124 

Thursday,  April  26,  1711.    Steele       .  .  128 

Tuesday,  May  8,  1711.     Addison       .  .  131 

Wednesday,  May  9,  1711.    Addison    .  .  136 

Thursday,  May  10,  1711.    Addison     .  .  141 

Wednesday,  May  16,  1711.    Steele      .  .  144 

Monday,  May  21,  1711.     Addison       .  •  148 

Wednesday,  May  23,  1711.    Addison   .  .  154 

Friday,  May  25,  1711.     Addison       .  .  157 

Saturday,  June  2,  1711.    Addison       .  .  163 

Friday,  June  22,  1711.     Addison       .  .  167 

Monday,  July  2,  1711.     Addison       .  .  171 

Tuesday,  July  3,  1711.    Steele      ...  175 

Wednesday,  July  4,  1711.    Addison    .  .  178 

Thursday,  July  5,  1711.    Steele    ...  181 

Friday,  July  6,  1711.    Addison    ...  185 


No. 

6. 

No. 

9. 

No. 

17. 

No. 

18. 

No. 

26. 

No. 

30. 

No. 

34. 

vNo. 

37. 

No. 

39. 

No. 

42. 

No. 

44. 

No. 

47. 

No. 

49. 

No. 

59. 

No. 

60. 

No. 

61. 

No. 

66. 

No. 

70. 

No. 

72. 

No. 

74. 

-No. 

81. 

No. 

98. 

No.  106. 

No.  107. 

No.  108.' 

No.  109. 

No.  110. 

CONTENTS  vii 

The  Spectator  (Continued)  p^^j. 

No.  112.  Monday,  July  9,  1711.     Addison       .  .  189 

No.  113.  Tuesday,  July  10,  1711.    Steele    ...  192 

No.  114.  Wednesday,  July  11,  1711.    Steele      .  .  197 

No.  115.  Thursday,  July  12,  1711.    Addison     .  .  201 

No.  116.  Friday,  July  13,  1711.     Addison       .  .  204 

No.  117.  Saturday,  July  14,  1711.    Addison      .  .  210 

No.  118.  Monday,  July  16,  1711.     Steele  ...  213 

No.  119.  Tuesday,  July  17,  1711.    Addison      .  .  217 

No.  120.  Wednesday,  July  18,  1711.     Addison  .  220 

No.  122.  Friday,  July  20,  1711.     Addison       .  .  224 

No.  123.  Saturday,  July  21,  1711.    Addison      .  .  228 

No.  125.  Tuesday,  July  24,  1711.    Addison      .  .  233 

No.  126.  Wednesday,  July  25,  1711.     Addison  .  237 

No.  127.  Thursday,  July  26,  1711.    Addison     .  .  241 

No.  130.  Monday,  July  30,  1711.    Addison      .  .  244 

No.  131.  Tuesday,  July  31,  1711.    Addison      .  .  248 

No.  132.  Wednesday,  August  1,  1711.     Steele  .  251 

No.  135.  Saturday,  August  4,  1711.     Addison  .  255 

No.  159.  Saturday,  September  1,  1711.    Addison  .  259 

No.  165.  Saturday,  September  8,  1711.    Addison  .  264 

No.  170.  Friday,  September  14,  1711.    Addison  .  267 

No.  174.  Wednesday,  September  19,  1711.    Steele  .  273 

No.  235.  Thursday,  November  29,  1711.    Addison  .  277 

No.  251.  Tuesday,  December  18,  1711.    Addison  .  281 

No.  269.  Tuesday,  January  8,  1711-12.    Addison  .  285 

-  No.  275.  Tuesday,  January  15,  1711-12.    Addison  .  28^/ 

No.  280.  Monday,  January  21,  1711-12.    Steele  .  292  ^ 

No.  281.  Tuesday,  January  22,  1711-12.    Addison  .  296 


viii  CONTENTS 

The  Spectator  (Continued)  „,^„ 

PAGE 

No.  295.     Thursday,  February  7,  1711-12.     Addison    296 


No.  317.  Tuesday,  March  4,  1712.    Addison 

No.  323.  Tuesday,  March  11, 1712.    Addison    . 

No.  329.  Tuesday,  March  18,  1711-12.    Addison 

No.  335.  Tuesday,  March  25,  1712.    Addison    . 

'  No.  383.  Tuesday,  May  20,  1712.    Addison       . 

No.  517.  Thursday,  October  23,  1712.    Addison 


304 
308 
313 
317 
321 
324 


The  Freeholder 

No.    22.     Monday,  March  5,  1716.  Addison  .  .  327 

No.   44.     Monday,  May  21,  1716.  Addison  .  .  332 

No.    45.    Friday,  May  25,  1716.  Addison  .  .  336 

No.   47.    Friday,  June  1,  1716.  Addison  .  .  340 


INTRODUCTION 

The  eyes  of  readers  of  the  first  number  of  the  Tatler 
on  April  12th,  1709,  fell  upon  a  line  from  Juvenal, 

"Quicquid  agunt  homines — 
nostri  est  farrago  libelli," 

which  may  be  freely  translated, 

"Whatever  men  do,  or  say,  or  think,  or  dream, 
Our  motley  paper  seizes  for  its  theme." 

A  little  farther  down  the  page  came  this  satisfying 
passage,  "which  shall  be  the  end  and  purpose  of  this  my 
paper,  wherein  I  shall,  from  time  to  time  report  and 
consider  all  matters  of  what  kind  so  ever  that  shall  occur 
to  me,  and  publish  such  my  advices  and  reflections  every 
Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday  in  the  week,  for  the 
convenience  of  the  Post."  And  so  on,  as  may  be  read  in 
that  memorable  first  number. 

Here  was  something  to  delight  the  reader  of  that 
democratic  century.  And  it  came  almost  as  a  prophecy  of 
the  kind  of  prose,  which  would  ever  characterize  the 
century  that  was  about  to  produce  the  personal  essay, 
the  novel  and  the  best  letter-writers  of  which  England 
has  record. 

Within  the  scope  of  a  brief  introduction,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  set  forth  completely  the  causes  which  led 
to  the  first  number  of  the  Tatler,  or  even  to  sketch  the 
outline  of  the  lives  of  the  two  men,  who  carried  it 
through  and  inaugurated  its  more  famous  successor,  the 
Spectator.  Perhaps  it  is  better  so,  for  nothing  reveals 
so  clearly  the  interesting  life  of  the  time  as  the  pages 


X  INTEODUCTION 

of  the  Tatler  and  Spectator  themselves.  We  shall  con- 
sider our  part  well  performed  if  we  can  but  introduce 
some  sympathetic  reader  to  pages  which  picture  so  graphs 
ically  the  doings  and  manners  and  tastes  of  an  era  which 
seems  more  nearly  modern  than  any  period  besides  our 
own. 

However,  convention  requires  that  we  set  down,  if  only 
for  the  sake  of  reference,  the  outstanding  facts  in  the 
lives  of  Steele  and  Addison  and  the  incidents  which  led 
to  the  successful  venture  in  the  field  of  a  new  form  of 
prose  expression.  Eichard  Steele  was  bom  in  Dublin  in 
1672,  of  English  parents  and  was  educated  at  the  Charter- 
house, where  Addison  was  at  the  same  time  a  pupil.  In 
1690  he  matriculated  at  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  but, 
without  taking  a  degree,  left  college  and  entered  the 
army  as  a  cadet.  Later  he  obtained  the  rank  of  captain 
and  was  ever  afterward  familiarly  known  as  Captain 
Steele.  Between  1701  and  1722,  he  wrote  several  plays, 
"The  Christian  Hero,''  "The  Funeral,"  "The  Lying 
Lover,''  "The  Tender  Husband,"  and  "The  Conscious 
Lovers,"  chiefly  noteworthy  to-day  for  their  prevailing 
dullness  and  mawkish  sentimentality.  For  a  time  Steele 
held  a  seat  in  Parliament,  served  as  manager  of  Drury 
Lane  and  as  Commissioner  in  Scotland.  Nevertheless, 
throughout  his  life  Steele  was  at  war  with  fortune.  His 
hopefulness  was  inexhaustible,  but  he  seemed  to  learn  no 
lesson  from  experience  and  his  recklessness  brought  upon 
himself  innumerable  embarrassments  and  upon  his  family 
want  of  the  common  necessities  of  food  and  lodging.  Of 
his  most  famous  contributions,  the  Tatler  and  the  Spec- 
tator, a  brief  account  will  be  found  a  little  farther  on 
in  this  introduction.  In  1718,  Steele  lost  his  wife,  whom 
he  loved  ardently,  and  some  years  afterwards  his  only 
remaining  son.  Broken  in  health  and  fortune,  he  retired 
to  his  property  in  Wales  and  died  there  in  1729,  at  the 
age  of  fifty-seven. 

Joseph  Addison  was  born  in  1672,  the  same  year  as 
Steele,   at  Milston,   in  Wiltshire.     He  was  educated   at 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

the  Charterhouse,  where  he  entered  upon  his  memorable 
friendship  with  Steele.  Thence  in  1687,  at  the  age  of 
fifteen,  he  went  to  Queens  College,  Oxford.  A  few  months 
later,  on  account  of  his  Latin  verses,  he  gained  a  scholar- 
ship at  Magdalen,  of  which  college  later  he  became  a 
fellow.  A  pension  of  £300  a  year  enabled  him  to  travel 
in  order  that,  by  gaining  a  knowledge  of  French  and 
Italian,  he  might  be  fitted  for  the  diplomatic  service. 
One  of  the  best  known  incidents  relating  to  English 
literature  is  the  good  fortune  which  befell  Addison  when, 
on  request,  he  wrote  "The  Campaign"  to  celebrate  the 
distinguished  services  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  at  the 
Battle  of  Blenheim.  In  1713,  his  play,  "Cato,"  with  its 
stately  rhetoric  and  cold  dignity,  was  produced  and  had 
a  run,  remarkable  for  those  days,  of  thirty-five  nights. 
Unlike  Steele,  he  rose  to  positions  of  eminence  in  the 
State.  Without  much  loss,  his  contributions  to  govern- 
ment and  literature  besides  the  Tatler,  Spectator,  and 
Guardian  may  be  disregarded.  In  1716,  he  married  the 
Countess  of  Warwick.  According  to  tradition,  this  union 
was  not  a  happy  one  and  is  said  to  have  driven  Addison 
"to  the  consolations  of  the  tavern.''  He  died  in  1719 
and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Although  their  lives  spanned  the  same  interesting 
Queen  Anne  period  and  their  friendship  continued  almost 
unbroken  from  the  memorable  day  when  young  Richard 
and  Joseph  met  at  the  Charterhouse,  nevertheless  it 
would  be  difficult  to  name  two  contemporaries  more  dif- 
ferent or  two  whose  varied  characteristics  proved  more 
mutually  helpful.  To-day  after  two  centuries,  they  are 
always  mentioned  together  and  students  of  the  period 
delight  in  praising  one  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  other. 
We  can  only  be  grateful  that  they  so  completely  supple- 
mented each  other,  and  each  recognized  and  appreciated 
the  qualities  of  the  other. 

Keeping  in  mind  the  tendency  of  Macaulay  to  draw 
characters  in  broad  lines  and  the  disposition  of  Thackeray 
to  give  way  to  his  most  generous  impulses,  every  student 


xii  INTEODUCTION 

of  Englisli  literature  may  well  profit  by  reading  the 
descriptions  which  these  eminent  writers  of  the  nineteenth 
century  have  left  of  their  worthy  predecessors  in  the 
eighteenth  century. 

In  a  review  of  Lucy  Aikin's  ^T.ife  of  Joseph  Addison,'' 
Macaulay  wrote:  "But,  after  full  inquiry  and  impartial 
reflection,  we  have  long  been  convinced  that  he  deserved 
as  much  love  and  esteem  as  can  be  justly  claimed  by  any 
of  our  infirm  and  erring  race.  Some  blemishes  may  un- 
doubtedly be  detected  in  his  character;  but  the  more  care- 
fully it  is  examined,  the  more  will  it  appear,  to  use  the 
phrase  of  the  old  anatomists,  sound  in  the  noble  parts, 
free  from  all  taint  of  perfidy,  of  cowardice,  of  cruelty,  of 
ingratitude,  of  envy.  Men  may  easily  be  named,  in  whom 
some  particular  good  disposition  has  been  more  conspicu- 
ous than  in  Addison.  ^  But  the  just  harmony  of  qualities, 
the  exact  temper  between  the  stern  and  the  humane  vir- 
tues, the  habitual  observance  of  every  law,  not  only  of 
moral  rectitude,  but  of  moral  grace  and  dignity,  distin- 
guish him  from  all  men  who  have  been  tried  by  equally 
strong  temptations,  and  about  whose  conduct  we  i>ossess 
equally  full  information."  / 

Of  Steele  he  wrote: 

^Tffe  was  one  of  those  people  whom  it  is  impossible 
either  to  hate  or  to  respect.  His  temper  was  sweet,  his 
affections  warm,  his  spirits  lively,  his  passions  strong,  and 
his  principles  weak.  His  life  was  spent  in  sinning  and 
repenting;  in  inculcating  what  was  right,  and  doing  what 
was  wrong.  In  speculation,  he  was  a  man  of  piety  and 
honor ;  in  practise  he  was  much  of  the  rake  and  a  little  of 
the  swindler.  He  was,  however,  so  good-natured  that  it 
was  not  easy  to  be  seriously  angry  with  him,  and  that 
even  rigid  moralists  felt  more  inclined  to  pity  than  to 
blame  him,  when  he  diced  himself  into  a  sponging  house, 
or  drank  himself  into  a  fever.^' 

In  his  English  Humorists,  Thackeray  described  Addi- 
son in  this  wise: 

"Looking  at  that  calm  fair  face,  and  clear  countenance 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

— ^those  chiseled  features  pure  and  cold,  I  can't  but  fancy 
that  this  great  man — in  this  respect,  like  him  of  whom  we 
spoke  in  the  last  lecture — ^was  also  one  of  the  lonely  ones 
of  the  world.  Such  men  have  very  few  equals,  and  they 
don't  herd  with  those.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  such  lords 
of  intellect  to  be  solitary — they  are  in  the  world,  but  not 
of  it — and  our  minor  struggles,  brawls,  successes,  pass 
under  them. 

"Kind,  just,  serene,  impartial,  his  fortitude  not  tried 
beyond  easy  endurance,  his  affections  not  much  used,  for 
his  books  were  his  family,  and  his  society  was  in  public; 
admirably  wise,  wittier,  calmer,  and  more  instructed  than 
almost  every  man  with  whom  he  met,  how  could  Addison 
suffer,  desire,  admire,  feel  much?  I  may  expect  a  child 
to  admire  me  for  being  taller  or  writing  more  cleverly 
than  she ;  but  how  can  I  ask  my  superior  to  say  that  I  am 
a  wonder  when  he  knows  better  than  I  ?  In  Addison's  days^ 
you  could  scarcely  show  him  a  literary  performance,  a 
sermon,  or  a  poem,  or  a  piece  of  literary  criticism,  but  he 
felt  he  could  do  better.  His  justice  must  have  made  him 
indifferent.  He  didn't  praise,  because  he  measured  his 
compeers  by  a  higher  standard  than  common  people  have." 

And  of  Steele  he  said : 

"The  great  charm  of  Steele's  writing  is  its  naturalness. 
He  wrote  so  quickly  and  carelessly  that  he  was  forced  to 
make  the  reader  his  confidant,  and  had  not  the  time  to 
deceive  him.  He  had  a  small  share  of  book-learning,  but 
a  vast  acquaintance  with  the  world.  He  had  known  men 
and  taverns.  He  had  lived  with  gownsmen,  with  troopers, 
with  gentlemen  ushers  of  the  Court,  with  men  and  women 
of  fashion,  with  authors  and  wits,  with  the  inmates  of 
the  sponging-houses,  and  with  the  frequenters  of  all  the 
clubs  and  coffee-houses  in  the  town.  He  was  liked  in  all 
company  because  he  liked  it;  and  you  like  to  see  his  en- 
joyment as  you  like  to  see  the  glee  of  a  boxful  of  children 
at  the  pantomime.  He  was  not  of  those  lonely  ones  of  the 
earth  whose  greatness  obliged  them  to  be  solitary;  on  the 
contrary,  he  admired,  I  think,  more  than  any  man  who 


xiv  INTEODUCTION 

ever  wrote;  and  full  of  hearty  applause  and  sympathy, 
wins  upon  you  by  calling  you  to  share  his  delight  and 
good-humor.  His  laugh  rings  through  the  whole  house. 
He  must  have  been  invaluable  at  a  tragedy,  and  have 
cried  as  much  as  the  most  tender  young  lady  in  the 
boxes.  He  has  a  relish  for  beauty  and  goodness  wherever 
he  meets  it.  He  admired  Shakespeare  affectionately,  and 
more  than  any  man  of  his  time:  and  according  to  his 
generous  expansive  nature,  called  upon  all  his  company 
to  like  what  he  liked  himself.  He  did  not  damn  with  faint 
praise:  he  was  in  the  world  and  of  it;  and  his  enjoyment 
of  life  presents  the  strangest  contrast  to  Swift's  savage 
indignation  and  Addison's  lonely  serenity." 

For  an  understanding  of  the  years  of  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne  we  have  no  better  source  of  information  than 
the  Tatler  and  the  Spectator,  and,  conversely,  if  we  wish 
to  read  intelligently  the  pages  of  those  interesting  maga- 
zines, we  should  try  to  know  something  of  the  social  and 
political  history  of  the  period.  Let  us  at  the  outset  re- 
member that  what  we  call  modern  civilization  was  new 
then,  that  all  the  particulars  which  make  life  comfort- 
able to-day  were  either  not  known  then  or  were  as  new 
as  the  telephone  or  the  automobile  are  to  us.  And  we 
have  this  advantage,  that  we  are  accustomed  to  inventions 
and  that  new  wonders  soon  become  commonplace  to  us. 

London  was,  even  more  than  to-day,  the  center  of  En- 
glish life,  politically  and  socially.  The  city  was  a  me- 
tropolis very  different  in  size,  as  well  as  in  many  other 
of  its  characteristic  qualities,  from  the  London  of  our 
day.  Many  of  the  outlying  districts  were  then  divided 
from  the  city  by  wide  expanses  of  meadows  and  gardens. 
The  streets  were  ill-kept,  insufficiently  lighted  at  night, 
infested  by  bands  of  ruffians,  who  often  committed  brutal 
assaults  on  unoffending  people,  whom  they  met  in  the 
street.  It  was  not  until  1736  that  anything  in  the  way 
of  street-lighting  was  at  all  common.  The  ordinary 
hackney-coach  was  a  jolting,  uncomfortable  vehicle,  sel- 
dom  furnished   with   lamps.      The   sedan-chair   was   be- 


INTEODUCTION 


XV 


coming  a  regular  institution,  and  the  "chair/'  as  it  was 
soon  called,  came  to  have  something  of  the  popularity  of 
the  modern  taxicab.  There  was  no  regularly  organized 
police  force  to  guard  the  metropolis  or  regulate  the  street 
traffic.  Although  we  may  well  believe  that  common  report 
grossly  exaggerated  the  individual  acts  of  ruffianism  and 
barbarity,  yet  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  night  life  of 
London  often  witnessed  scenes  which  would  have  been 
a  disgrace  even  in  a  less  civilized  era.  The  age  was  in 
many  ways  gross,  but  it  was  working  with  all  possible 
zeal  for  better  things  and  it  sought  aid  from  every  di- 
rection. 

The  reader  who  likes  to  know  something  of  the  past 
will  soon  discover  that  in  the  Queen  Anne  period  there 
was  an  institution  which,  although  it  had  existed  before 
the  eighteenth  century,  flourished  with  great  variety  in 
that  time  when  social  intercourse  was  the  supreme  object 
of  existence,  namely,  the  coffee-house.  Everywhere  in 
the  city  sprang  up  these  public  houses,  which  welcomed 
anybody  who  could  pay  the  price  of  a  cup  of  coffee, 
usually  a  penny.  Hither  came  the  men  of  London  of  all 
classes  and  professions,  each  group  attracted  to  its  own 
house.  A  particular  coffee-house  came  to  be  known  as 
the  seat  of  some  worthy  master.  Dryden  held  forth  at 
Will's,  Addison  at  Button's,  the  Whigs  met  at  St.  James, 
the  Tories  at  the  Chocolate  House  or  the  Cocoa  Tree, 
the  merchants  at  Jonathan's,  the  scholars  at  the  Grecian, 
and  so  on,  ad  infinitum.  The  coffee-house  was  so  much 
the  center  of  the  social,  political  and  literary  life  of  the 
age  that  we  may  largely  credit  to  it  not  only  the  origin 
of  such  magazines  as  the  Tatler  and  Spectator  but  also 
the  movement  towards  a  broadening  of  intelligence  and 
an  extension  of  democratic  principles  and  practises. 
There  men  gathered  for  talk  and  discussion  and  England 
never  produced  better  talkers  than  from  1700  to  1770. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  the  literary  life  could  scarcely  be 
lived  at  all  away  from  London  with  its  politics  and  varied 
discussion,  and  hardly  any  great  author  was  to  be  found 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

working  in  solitude.  The  writing  of  every  author  of 
the  time  shows  how  the  city  atmosphere  told  upon  litera- 
ture itself,  determining  its  form,  enlivening  its  spirit, 
giving  it  intelligibility  and  virility.  So  poetical  expres- 
sion became  prosaic  and  prose  became  perfect. 

A  word  of  the  forerunners  of  the  Tatler  may  not  be  out 
of  place  here.  Toward  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
.tury,  there  were  published  occasional  pamphlets,  giving 
accounts  of  extraordinary  events.  The  first  daily  news- 
paper. The  Daily  Courant,  was  begun  in  1702,  and  lasted 
until  1735.  This  was  simply  news  sheets.  In  1690  John 
Dunton  commenced  the  Athenian  Mercury  in  which  ques- 
tions, put  to  the  editor  by  his  readers,  were  answered. 
This  continued  until  1711.  However,  the  only  paper  which 
had  any  real  influence  on  the  formation  of  the  Tatler 
was  Defoe's  Review,  which  first  appeared  in  1704  and 
continued  until  1713.  As  stated  by  Defoe,  its  object  was 
"to  set  the  affairs  of  Europe  in  a  clearer  light,  to  form  a 
complete  history  of  France  and  to  pursue  truth,  regard- 
less of  party."  The  Review  was  very  popular.  During 
its  existence,  it  was  greatly  changed  both  as  to  title  and 
content.  It  treated  of  political  and  economic  questions 
in  a  simple  and  practical  way  quite  new,  with  frequent 
observations  on  the  follies  and  vices  of  the  time.  In  itself 
it  would  never  have  commanded  the  attention  or  respect 
of  future  centuries  but  it  may  to-day  be  recognized  as  a 
possible  precursor  of  the  more  popular  periodicals,  which 
soon   appeared. 

Tradition  furnishes  us  with  pleasing  accounts  of  the 
origin  of  the  Tatler,  but,  if  we  knew  the  truth,  we  should 
probably  find  that  the  conception  of  the  Tatler  was,  like 
most  inventions,  the  combination  of  several  circumstances 
which  were  just  waiting  for  the  proper  hand  to  fix  them 
into  a  definite  mould.  The  first  number  of  the  Tatler 
appeared  on  Tuesday,  April  12th,  1709,  and  was  published 
on  post  days,  Tuesday,  Thursday  and  Saturday.  The 
ordinary  copies,  consisting  of  one  folio  leaf,  were  sold  at 
one  penny,  but  after  the  25th  number,  copies  were  printed 


INTEODUCTION  xvH 

with  a  sheet  left  blank  for  correspondence;  for  these  a 
charge  of  three  halfpence  was  made.  The  first  four  num- 
bers were  given  away.  The  last  number  of  the  Tatler 
appeared  January  2,  1711.  Of  the  271  numbers,  Steele 
wrote  188,  Addison  42,  and  about  36  were  written  by 
them  together.  Even  Addison  was  not  aware  of  the 
author  of  the  Tatler  until  he  read  in  the  sixth  number 
some  remarks  on  Vergil,  which  he  remembered  as  the  re- 
sult of  a  discussion,  which  he  had  had  with  Steele  years 
before.  Addison's  first  contribution  was  the  eighteenth. 
Swift  wrote  one  entire  paper  and  a  few  letters  and  short 
articles.  The  contributions  from  others  were  almost 
negligible. 

For  any  one  unacquainted  with  the  purpose  and  con- 
tents of  the  Tatler,  the  best  method  is  to  read  the  papers 
themselves.  It  was  published,  as  Steele  said,  "for  the  use 
of  the  good  people  of  England."  The  tastes  of  all  classes 
were  to  be  considered  and  the  nature  of  the  topic  was 
indicated  by  the  name  of  the  place  from  which  the  article 
was  supposed  to  have  come,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  first 
number.  The  early  papers  contained  short  contributions 
from  several  of  these  addresses,  but,  as  the  periodical 
progressed,  it  became  more  usual  to  confine  the  number 
to  one  subject  and  the  article  of  news  dropped  out  en- 
tirely. It  was  a  new  note  to  have  Steele  define  his  rela- 
tion to  the  people  in  these  words,  'We  have  all  along 
informed  the  public  that  we  intend  to  give  them  our 
advice  for  our  own  sakes,  and  are  laboring  to  make  our 
lucubrations  come  to  some  price  in  money,  for  our  more 
convenient  support  in  the  service  of  the  public." 

The  aim  in  spirit  and  content  of  the  enterprise  could 
scarcely  be  better  stated  than  in  the  characteristic  sen- 
tence where  he  refers  to  a  letter  of  a  country  correspond- 
ent, "As  for  my  labors,  which  he  is  pleased  to  inquire 
after,  if  they  but  wear  one  impertinence  out  of  human 
life,  destroy  a  single  vice,  or  give  a  morning's  cheerful- 
ness to  an  honest  mind ;  in  short,  if  the  world  can  be  but 
one  virtue  the  better,  or  in  any  degree  less  vicious,  or 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

receive  from  them  the  smallest  addition  to  their  innocent 
diversions,  I  shall  not  think  my  pains,  or  indeed  my  life 
to  have  been  spent  in  vain/^ 

The  first  number  of  the  Spectator  appeared  on  March 
1,  1711,  with  this  announcement,  "To  be  continued  every 
day,''  and  the  pledge  was  kept  until  December  6th,  1712. 
Addison  revived  the  paper  for  a  time  in  1714,  but  in  that 
continuation  Steele  had  no  share.  Of  the  555  numbers, 
Addison  wrote  274,  Steele  236,  leaving  45  for  Budgell, 
Hughes,  Pope,  and  a  few  occasional  contributors.  The 
purpose,  which  was  constantly  kept  to  the  front,  may  be 
read  in  the  first  number. 

Addison  was  at  his  best  in  the  Spectator,  while  Steele 
found  in  the  T  a  tier  opportunity  for  the  sense  of  freedom 
and  freshness,  which  were  lacking  in  the  more  stately 
successor.  The  remarkable  achievement  was  that  with 
two  such  different  personalities  the  two  men  were  able  to 
fashion  a  work  which  would  allow  full  scope  to  the  activi- 
ties and  capabilities  of  each  and  would  together  redound  to 
the  fame  of  both.  It  is  pleasing  to  hear  Steele  say,  "I 
remember  when  I  finished  the  ^Tender  Husband,'  I  told 
him  there  was  nothing  I  so  ardently  wished  as  that  we 
might  at  some  time  or  other  publish  a  work  written  by  us 
both,  which  should  bear  the  name  of  The  Monument,'  in 
memory  of  our  friendship." 

The  Tatler  had  started  the  fashion;  the  Spectator 
profited  by  that  popularity  and  its  fame  spread  rapidly 
and  widely.  Everybody  who  pretended  to  be  or  to  know 
anything  was  expected  to  display  an  acquaintance  with 
it,  to  quote  from  its  essays  and  to  argue  about  its  dis- 
cussions. Over  20,000  copies  of  the  paper  were  sometimes 
sold  in  a  single  day  and  we  may  assume  that  this  implied 
at  least  100,000  readers.  This  was  a  marvelous  achieve- 
ment, properly  taking  a  place  among  the  greatest  in- 
ventions, when  we  remember  that  there  was  before  the 
eighteenth  century  nothing  that  can  be  called  a  reading 
public.  Aside  from  its  social  and  literary  significance, 
the  story  of  the  Spectator  forms  one  of  the  most  delight- 


INTEODUCTION  xix 

ful  and  most  important  chapters  in  English  literature. 

The  Tatler  and  Spectator  may  be  considered  as  typify- 
ing, perhaps  more  accurately  than  any  other  work,  the 
characteristics  of  the  English  people.  The  seventeenth 
century  had  witnessed  one  of  the  greatest  civil  tragedies, 
a  clash  of  ideals  and  prejudices.  The  conflict  of  Cavaliers 
and  Puritans  had  left  its  mark  on  English  civilization. 
The  king  had  been  driven  out,  but  the  idealism  of  the 
Puritans  had  fallen  into  unloveliness.  By  1700,  the 
English  race  was  exhausted  by  a  century  of  passionate 
striving  and  all  that  seemed  to  be  left  of  the  idealism  of 
society  and  letters  were  licentiousness  and  shameless 
sensuality.  On  the  surface,  however,  there  was  a  delight 
in  respectability  and  good  manners.  Here  was  an  op- 
portunity for  the  young  moralist,  Steele — he  was  only 
thirty-seven  in  1709 — to  set  forth  his  creed  in  a  form  more 
definite  and  more  appealing  than  in  his  plays,  which  had 
met  only  a  half-hearted  reception.  Although  the  Tatler 
began  as  a  newspaper,  it  was  soon  transformed  into  a 
censor  of  morals,  which  fitted  well  into  the  temper  of 
the  Englishman's  desire  for  fixed  standards  of  respect- 
ability. Soon  Isaac  Bickerstaff  of  the  Tatler  found  his 
limitations  and  the  Spectator  essayed  the  censorship. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  happy  than  this  transition 
from  a  rather  vague  figure  with  no  well  defined  personal 
characteristics  into  the  very  definite  observer  and  cor- 
rector of  all  the  foibles  common  to  the  human  race.  It 
was  a  time  for  preaching.  How  much  more  palatable  it 
was  to  have  the  preachment  come  from  this  nameless,  shy 
and  whimsical  humorist  than  from  the  more  formal  and 
censorious  theologian,  incrusted  with  dogma!  Here  was 
the  opportunity  to  reveal  or  conceal  according  to  the 
caprice  of  the  writer.  The  sketch  of  the  Spectator  in  the 
first  papers  was  largely  fictitious  but  the  character  was 
maintained  throughout  with  real  consistency. 

The  reader  in  our  day,  who  for  the  first  time  happens 
upon  these  papers,  is,  indeed,  to  be  envied.  They  should 
not  be  read  as  a  task  but  should  lie  on  the  table  to  be 


XX  INTEODUCTION 

tasted  as  Bacon,  the  first  English  essayist,  properly  sug- 
gested, day  by  day  according  to  the  manner  of  publica- 
tion. Then  they  will  not  only  please  but  satisfy.  For 
such  a  reader,  England  will  live  again,  the  country  with 
its  well-to-do  squires,  its  devotees  of  the  chase,  its  con- 
tented servant  class  living  by  the  grace  of  a  well  estab- 
lished aristocracy.  For  such  a  reader,  London  will  be- 
come a  city  of  folk,  gathered  at  the  theater,  in  the  coffee 
houses,  in  the  streets  and  on  the  river,  talking  and  argu- 
ing, observing  and  gossiping  of  the  fads  and  foibles,  of 
all  the  big  and  little  things  that  make  the  world  an  inter- 
esting place  in  which  to  live. 

It  is  possible  to  make  many  kinds  of  selections  from 
the  varied  papers  that  comprise  the  Tatler  and  the  Spec- 
tator. This  is  but  one,  brought  together,  one  paper  here, 
another  there,  others  more  closely  associated,  to  convey 
something  of  the  variety  and  richness  of  the  range  and 
imagination  of  the  two  men  who  knew  so  well  the  com- 
posite life  of  which  they  formed  a  conspicuous  part.  We 
are  not  so  much  interested  in  passing  a  judgment  upon 
these  two  distinguished  men  or  in  singling  out  their 
respective  merits  or  defects.  Rather  we  wish  to  leave 
them  to  the  sympathetic  curiosity  of  him  who,  to  para- 
phrase the  words  of  an  eminent  nineteenth  century  critic, 
wishes  to  read  some  of  the  best  things  that  have  been 
thought  and  said  in  the  world. 

Will  D.  Howe. 
March  81,  1921. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   ADDISON 
AND  STEELE 

[Tatler  No.  1.    Tuesday,  April  12,  1709.    Steele."! 

Quicquid  agunt  homines v^ 

nostri   est  farrago   libelli.^ 

-— Juv.  Sat.  i.  85,  86.» 

Though  the  other  papers,  which  are  published  for  the 
use  of  the  good  people  of  England,  have  certainly  very 
wholesome  effects,  and  are  laudable  in  their  particular 
kinds,  they  do  not  seem  to  come  up  to  the  main  desiga 
of  such  narrations,  which,  I  humbly  presume,  should  be 
principally  intended  for  the  use  of  politic  persons,  whe 
are  so  public-spirited  as  to  neglect  their  own  affairs  to 
look  into  transactions  of  state.  Now  these  gentlemen, 
for  the  most  part,  being  persons  of  strong  zeal,  and  weak 
intellects,  it  is  both  a  charitable  and  necessary  work  to 
offer  something,  whereby  such  worthy  and  well-affected 
members  of  the  commonwealth  may  be  instructed,  after 
their  reading,  what  to  think;  which  shall  be  the  end  and 
purpose  of  this  my  paper,  wherein  I  shall,  from  time  to 
time,  report  and  consider  all  matters  of  what  'kind  soever 
that  shall  occur  to  me,  and  publish  such  my  advices  and 
reflections  every  Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday  in  the 
week,  for  the  convenience  of  the  post.  I  resolve  to  have 
something  which  may  be  of  entertainment  to  the  fair 
sex,  in  honor  of  whom  I  have  invented  the  title  of  this 

^  Whate'er  men   do,   or  say,   or  think,   or  dream; 
Our  motley   Paper  seizes  for   its   theme. 


2  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

paper.  I  therefore  earnestly  desire  all  persons,  without 
distinction,  to  take  it  in  for  the  present  gratis^  and  here- 
after at  the  price  of  one  penny,  forbidding  all  hawkers 
to  take  more  for  it  at  their  peril.  And  I  desire  all  per- 
sons to  consider,  that  I  am  at  a  very  great  charge  for 
proper  materials  for  this  work,  as  well  as  that,  before  I 
resolved  upon  it,  I  had  settled  a  correspondence  in  all 
parts  of  the  known  and  knowing  world.  And  forasmuch 
as  this  globe  is  not  trodden  upon  by  mere  drudges  of 
business  only,  but  that  men  of  spirit  and  genius  are  justly 
to  be  esteemed  as  considerable  agents  in  it,  we  shall  not, 
upon  a  dearth  of  news,  present  you  with  musty  foreign 
edicts,  and  dull  proclamations,  but  shall  divide  our  rela- 
tion of  the  passages  which  occur  in  action  or  discourse 
throughout  this  town,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  under  such 
dates  of  places  as  may  prepare  you  for  the  matter  you  are 
to  expect  in  the  following  manner. 

All  accounts  of  gallantry,  pleasure,  and  entertainment, 
shall  be  under  the  article  of  White's  Chocolate-house ;  ^ 
poetry  under  that  of  Will's  Coffee-house ;  ^  Learning,  un- 
der the  title  of  Grecian ;  ^  foreign  and  domestic  news, 
you  will  have  from  St.  James's  Coffee-house;  and  what 
else  I  have  to  offer  on  any  other  subject  shall  be  dated 
from  my  own  Apartment. 

1  once  more  desire  my  reader  to  consider,  that  as  I  can- 
not keep  an  ingenious  man  to  go  daily  to  Will's  under 
two-pence  each  day,  merely  for  his  charges;  to  White's 
under  six-pence ;  nor  to  the  Grecian,  without  allowing  him 
some  plain  Spanish,  to  be  as  able  as  others  at  the  learned 
table;  and  that  a  good  observer  cannot  speak  with  even 
Kidney^  at  St.  James's  without  clean  linen;  I  say,  these 

^  White's   Chocolate-house  was   in    St.   James's-street. 

2  WiU's  Coffee-house  was  on  the  north-side  of  RusseU-street  in 
Covent  Garden,  where  the  wits  of  that  time  used  to  assemble, 
and  where  Dryden  had,  when  he  lived,  been  accustomed  to  pre- 
side. 

'  The  Grecian  was  in  Devereux-court  in  the  Strand ;  probably 
the  most  ancient  coffee-house  in  London.  In  1652  an  English 
Turkey  merchant  brought  home  with  him  a  Greek  servant,  who 
first   opened   a   house  for   making   and   selling   coffee. 

*  Kidney   was   one    of   the   waiters  at    St.   James's   Coffee-house, 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  3 

considerations  will,  I  hope,  make  all  persons  willing  to 
comply  with  my  humble  request  (when  my  gratis  stock  is 
exhausted)  of  a  penny  apiece;  especially  since  they  are 
sure  of  some  proper  amusement,  and  that  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  want  means  to  entertain  them,  having,  besides 
the  force  of  my  own  parts,  the  power  of  divination,  and 
that  I  can,  by  casting  a  figure,  tell  you  all  that  will  happen 
before  it  comes  to  pass. 

But  this  last  faculty  I  shall  use  very  sparingly,  and 
speak  but  of  few  things  until  they  are  passed,  for  fear 
of  divulging  matters  which  may  offend  our  superiors. 


[The  Tatler.    No.  11.    Thursday,  May  5, 1709.    Steele.] 

Of  all  the  vanities  under  the  sun,  I  confess  that  of 
being  proud  of  one's  birth  is  the  greatest.  At  the  same 
time,  since  in  this  unreasonable  age,  by  the  force  of  pre- 
vailing custom,  things  in  which  men  have  no  hand  are 
imputed  to  them;  and  that  I  am  used  by  some  people,  as 
if  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  though  I  write  myself  Esquire,  was 
nobody:  to  set  the  world  right  in  that  particular,  I  shall 
give  you  my  genealogy,  as  a  kinsman  of  ours  has  sent 
it  from  the  Heralds  office.  It  is  certain,  and  observed  by 
the  wisest  writers,  that  there  are  women  who  are  not 
nicely  chaste,  and  men  not  severely  honest,  in  all  families ; 
therefore  let  those  who  may  be  apt  to  raise  aspersions 
upon  ours,  please  to  give  us  as  impartial  an  account  of 
their  own,  and  we  shall  be  satisfied.  The  business  of 
heralds  is  a  matter  of  so  great  nicety,  that,  to  avoid  mis- 
takes, I  shall  give  you  my  cousin's  letter  verbatim,  without 
altering  a  syllable. 

"Dear  Cousin, 

"Since  you  have  been  pleased  to  make  yourself  so 
famous  of  late,  by  your  ingenious  writings,  and  some 
time  ago  by  your  learned  predictions:  since  Partridge 
of  immortal  memory  is  dead  and  gone,  who,  poetical  as 


4  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

he  was,  could  not  Tinderstand  his  own  poetry;  and  philo- 
matical  as  he  was,  could  not  read  his  own  destiny:  since 
the  Pope,  the  King  of  France,  and  great  part  of  his  court, 
are  either  literally  or  metaphorically  defunct:  since,  I 
say,  these  things  (not  foretold  by  any  one  but  yourself) 
have  come  to  pass  after  so  surprising  a  manner ;  it  is  with 
no  small  concern  I  see  the  original  of  the  Staffian  race 
so  little  known  in  the  world  as  it  is  at  this  time;  for 
which  reason,  as  you  have  employed  your  studies  in  as- 
tronomy, and  the  occult  sciences,  so  I,  my  mother  being 
a  Welsh  woman,  dedicated  mine  to  genealogy,  particularly 
that  of  our  own  family,  which,  for  its  antiquity  and  num- 
ber, may  challenge  any  in  Great  Britain.  The  Staffs  are 
originally  of  Staffordshire,  which  took  its  name  from 
them :  the  first  that  I  find  of  the  Staffs  was  one  Jacobstaff, 
a  famous  and  renowned  astronomer,  who  (by  Dorothy  his 
wife)  had  issue  seven  sons,  viz,,  Bickerstaff,  Longstaff, 
Wagstaff,  Quarterstaff,  Whitestaff,  Ealstaff,  and  Tipstaff. 
He  also  had  a  younger  brother,  who  was  twice  married, 
and  had  five  sons,  viz,.  Distaff,  Pikestaff,  Mopstaff,  Broom- 
staff,  and  Eaggedstaff.  As  for  the  branch  from  whence 
you  spring,  I  shall  say  very  little  of  it,  only  that  it  is 
the  chief  of  the  Staffs,  and  called  Bickerstaff,  qvuisi 
Biggerstaff;  as  much  as  to  say,  the  Great  Staff,  or  Staff 
of  Staffs ;  and  that  it  has  applied  itself  to  astronomy  with 
great  success,  after  the  example  ol  our  aforesaid  fore- 
father. The  descendants  from  Longstaff,  the  second  son, 
were  a  rakish  disorderly  set  of  people,  and  rambled  from 
one  place  to  another,  until,  in  the  time  of  Harry  the  Sec- 
ond, they  settled  in  Kent,  and  were  called  long-tails,  from 
the  long-tails  which  were  sent  them  as  a  punishment  for 
the  murder  of  Thomas-a-Becket,  as  the  legends  say.  They 
have  always  been  sought  after  by  the  ladies;  but  whether 
it  be  to  show  their  aversion  to  popery,  or  their  love  to 
miracles,  I  cannot  say.  The  Wagstaffs  are  a  merry 
thoughtless  sort  of  people,  who  have  always  been  opinion- 
ated of  their  own  wit ;  they  have  turned  themselves  mostly 
to  poetry.    This   is  the  most  numerous  branch  of  our 


ADDISON  AISTD  STEELE  5 

family,  and  the  poorest.  The  Quarterstaffs  are  most  of 
them  prize-fighters  or  deer-stealers :  there  have  been  so 
many  of  them  hanged  lately,  that  there  are  very  few  of 
that  branch  of  our  family  left.  The  WhitestafFs  ^  are  all 
courtiers,  and  have  had  very  considerable  places.  There 
have  been  some  of  them  of  that  strength  and  dexterity, 
that  five  hundred  ^  of  the  ablest  men  in  the  kingdom  have 
often  tugged  in  vain  to  pull  a  staff  out  of  their  hands. 
The  Falstaffs  are  strangely  given  to  whoring  and  drink- 
ing: there  are  abundance  of  them  in  and  about  London. 
One  thing  is  very  remarkable  of  this  branch,  and  that  is, 
there  are  just  as  many  women  as  men  in  it.  There  was  a 
wicked  stick  of  wood  of  this  name  in  Harry  the  Fourth's 
time,  one  Sir  John  Falstaff.  As  for  Tipstaff,  the  young- 
est son,  he  was  an  honest  fellow;  but  his  sons,  and  his 
sons'  sons,  have  all  of  them  been  the  veriest  rogues  living : 
it  is  this  unlucky  branch  that  has  stocked  the  nation  with 
that  swarm  of  lawyers,  attorneys,  sergeants,  and  bailiffs, 
with  which  the  nation  is  over-run.  Tipstaff,  being  a 
seventh  son,  used  to  cure  the  king's-evil;  but  his  rascally 
descendants  are  so  far  from  having  that  healing  quality, 
that  by  a  touch  upon  the  shoulder  they  give  a  man  such 
an  ill  habit  of  body,  that  he  can  never  come  abroad 
afterwards.  This  is  all  I  know  of  the  line  of  Jacobstaff : 
his  younger  brother  Isaacstaff,  as  I  told  you  before,  had 
five  sons,  and  was  married  twice :  his  first  wife  was  a  Staff 
(for  they  did  not  stand  upon  false  heraldry  in  those  days) 
by  whom  he  had  one  son,  who,  in  process  of  time,  being  a 
schoolmaster  and  well  read  in  the  Greek,  called  himself 
Distaff,  or  Twicestaff.  He  was  not  very  rich,  so  he  put 
his  children  out  to  trades ;  and  the  Distaffs  have  ever  since 
been  employed  in  the  woollen  and  linen  manufactures,  ex- 
cept myself,  who  am  a  genealogist.  Pikestaff,  the  eldest 
son  by  the  second  venter,  was  a  man  of  business,  a  down- 
right plodding  fellow,  and  withal  so  plain,  that  he  became 

*  An   allusion   to   the    staff   carried,    as   an    ensign   of   his  office, 
by  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury. 

*  The  House  of  Commons. 


6  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

a  proverb.  Most  of  this  family  are  at  present  in  the  army. 
Eaggedstaff  was  an  unlucky  boy,  and  used  to  tear  his 
clothes  in  getting  birds'  nests,  and  was  always  playing 
with  a  tame  bear  his  father  kept.  Mopstaff  fell  in  love 
with  one  of  his  father's  maids,  and  used  to  help  her  to 
clean  the  house.  Broomstaff  was  a  chimney-sweeper.  The 
Mopstaffs  and  Broomstaffs  are  naturally  as  civil  people 
as  ever  went  out  of  doors;  but  alas!  if  they  once  get 
into  ill  hands,  they  knock  down  all  before  them.  Pilgrim- 
staff  ran  away  from  his  friends,  and  went  strolling  about 
the  country:  and  Pipestaff  was  a  wine-cooper.  (These 
two  were  the  unlawful  issue  of  Longstaff.) 

"N.B.     The  Canes,  the  Clubs,  the  Cudgels,  the  Wands, 
the  Devil  upon  two  Sticks,  and  one  Bread,  that  goes  by 
the  name  of  Staff  of  Life,  are  none  of  our  relations. 
I  am.  Dear  Cousin, 

Your  humble  servant, 

D.  Distaff." 

From  the  Heralds  Office,  May  1,  1709. 


[The  Tatler  No.  25.    Tuesday,  June  7,  1709.    Steele.] 

A  letter  from  a  young  lady,  written  in  the  most  pas- 
sionate terms,  wherein  she  laments  the  misfortune  of  a 
gentleman,  her  lover,  who  was  lately  wounded  in  a  duel, 
has  turned  my  thoughts  to  that  subject,  and  inclined  me 
to  examine  into  the  causes  which  precipitate  men  into 
so  fatal  a  folly.  And  as  it  has  been  proposed  to  treat  of 
subjects  of  gallantry  in  the  article  from  hence,  and  no 
one  point  in  nature  is  more  proper  to  be  considered  by 
the  company  who  frequent  this  place  than  that  of  duels, 
it  is  worth  our  consideration  to  examine  into  this  chimer- 
ical groundless  humor,  and  to  lay  every  other  thought 
aside,  until  we  have  stripped  it  of  all  its  false  pretences 
to  credit  and  reputation  amongst  men. 

But  I  must  confess,  when  I  consider  what  I  am  going 
about,  and  run  over  in  my  imagination  all  the  endless 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  7 

crowd  of  men  of  honor  who  will  be  offended  at  such  a 
discourse;  I  am  undertaking,  methinks,  a  work  worthy 
an  invulnerable  hero  in  romance,  rather  than  a  private 
gentleman  with  a  single  rapier:  but  as  I  am  pretty  well 
acquainted  by  great  opportunities  with  the  nature  of  man, 
and  know  of  a  truth  that  all  men  fight  against  their  will, 
the  danger  vanishes,  and  resolution  rises  upon  this  sub- 
ject. For  this  reason,  I  shall  talk  very  freely  on  a  custom 
which  all  men  wish  exploded,  though  no  man  has  courage 
enough  to  resist  it. 

But  there  is  one  unintelligible  word,  which  I  fear  will 
extremely  perplex  my  dissertation,  and  I  confess  to  you 
I  find  very  hard  to  explain,  which  is  the  term  "satisfac- 
tion.'' An  honest  country  gentleman  had  the  misfortune 
to  fall  into  company  with  two  or  three  modern  men  of 
honor,  where  he  happened  to  be  very  ill-treated;  and  one 
of  the  company,  being  conscious  of  his  offense,  sends  a 
note  to  him  in  the  morning,  and  tells  him,  he  was  ready 
to  give  him  satisfaction.  "This  is  fine  doing,''  says  the 
plain  fellow;  "last  night  he  sent  me  away  cursedly  out 
of  humor,  and  this  morning  he  fancies  it  would  be  a  sat- 
isfaction to  be  run  through  the  body." 

As  the  matter  at  present  stands,  it  is  not  to  do  hand- 
some actions  denominates  a  man  of  honor ;  it  is  enough  if 
he  dares  to  defend  ill  ones.  Thus  you  often  see  a  com- 
mon sharper  in  competition  with  a  gentleman  of  the  first 
rank;  though  all  mankind  is  convinced,  that  a  fighting 
gamester  is  only  a  pickpocket  with  the  courage  of  an 
highwayman.  One  cannot  with  any  patience  reflect  on 
the  unaccountable  jumble  of  persons  and  things  in  this 
town  and  nation,  which  occasions  very  frequently,  that  a 
brave  man  falls  by  a  hand  below  that  of  a  common  hang- 
man, and  yet  his  executioner  escapes  the  clutches  of  the 
hangman  for  doing  it.  I  shall  therefore  hereafter  con- 
sider, how  the  bravest  men  in  other  ages  and  nations 
have  behaved  themselves  upon  such  incidents  as  we  de- 
cide by  combat;  and  show,  from  their  practice,  that  this 
resentment  neither  has  its  foundation  from  true  reason 


8  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

or  solid  fame;  but  is  an  imposture,  made  of  cowardice, 
falsehood,  and  want  of  understanding.  For  this  work,  a 
good  history  of  quarrels  would  be  very  edifying  to  the 
public,  and  I  apply  myself  to  the  town  for  particulars 
and  circumstances  within  their  knowledge,  which  may 
serve  to  embellish  the  dissertation  with  proper  cuts. 
Most  of  the  quarrels  I  have  ever  known,  have  proceeded 
from  some  valiant  coxcomb's  persisting  in  the  wrong, 
to  defend  some  prevailing  folly,  and  preserve  himself 
from  the  ingenuousness  of  owning  a  mistake. 

By  this  means  it  is  called  ^%iving  a  man  satisfaction," 
to  urge  your  offense  against  him  with  your  sword;  which 
puts  me  in  mind  of  Peter's  order  to  the  keeper,  in  The 
Tale  of  a  Tub:  ^^if  you  neglect  to  do  all  this,  damn  you 
and  your  generation  for  ever:  and  so  we  bid  you  heartily 
farewell."  If  the  contradiction  in  the  very  terms  of  one 
of  our  challenges  were  as  well  explained  and  turned  into 
downright  English,  would  it  not  run  after  this  manner? 
"Sir, 

"Your  extraordinary  behavior  last  night,  and  the  lib- 
erty you  were  pleased  to  take  with  me,  makes  me  this 
morning  give  you  this,  to  tell  you,  because  you  are  an 
.  ill-bred  puppy,  I  will  meet  you  in  Hyde-park,  an  hour 
hence;  and  because  you  want  both  breeding  and  human- 
ity, I  desire  you  would  come  with  a  pistol  in  your  hand, 
on  horseback,  and  endeavor  to  shoot  me  through  the  head, 
to  teach  you  more  manners.  If  you  fail  of  doing  me  this 
pleasure,  I  shall  say,  you  are  a  rascal,  on  every  post  in 
town :  and  so,  sir,  if  you  will  not  injure  me  more,  I  shall 
never  forgive  what  you  have  done  already.  Pray,  sir, 
do  not  fail  of  getting  everything  ready;  and  you  will  in- 
finitely oblige,  sir,  your  most  obedient  humble  servant, 
etc." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  9 


[The  Tatlhr.    No.  41.    Thursday,  July  14,  1709. 
Steele.] 

Gelebrare  domestica  facta.* 

There  is  no  one  thing  more  to  be  lamented  in  our  na- 
tion, than  their  general  affectation  of  everything  that 
is  foreign;  nay,  we  carry  it  so  far,  that  we  are  more  anx- 
ious for  our  own  countrymen  when  they  have  crossed 
the  seas,  than  when  we  see  them  in  the  same  dangerous 
condition  before  our  eyes  at  home:  else  how  is  it  pos- 
sible, that  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  the  last  month,  there 
should  have  been  a  battle  fought  in  our  very  streets  of 
London,  and  nobody  at  this  end  of  the  town  have  heard 
of  it?  I  protest,  I,  who  make  it  my  business  to  inquire 
after  adventures,  should  never  have  known  this,  had 
not  the  following  account  been  sent  me  inclosed  in  a 
letter.  This,  it  seems,  is  the  way  of  giving  out  orders 
in  the  Artillery-company;  and  they  prepare  for  a  day 
of  action  with  so  little  concern,  as  only  to  call  it,  ^^An 
Exercise  of  Arms.'^ 

"An  Exercise  of  Arms  of  the  Artillery-company,  to  be 
performed  on  Wednesday,  June  the  twenty-ninth,  1709, 
under  the  command  of  Sir  Joseph  Woolfe,  knight  and 
alderman,  general;  Charles  Hopson,  esquire,  present  sher- 
iff, lieutenant-general;  Captain  Richard  Synge,  major; 
Major  John  Shorey,  captain  of  grenadiers;  Captain  Wil- 
liam Grayhurst,  Captain  John  Butler,  Captain  Robert 
Carellis,  captains. 

"The  body  marched  from  the  Artillery-ground,  through 
Moorgate,  Coleman  Street,  Lothbury,  Broad  Street,  Finch 
Lane,  Cornhill,  Cheapside,  St.  Martin's,  St.  Anne's  Lane, 
halt  the  pikes  under  the  wall  in  Noble  Street,  draw  up 
the  firelocks  facing  the  Goldsmiths'  Hall,  make  ready  and 
face  to  the  left,  and  fire,  and  so  ditto  three  times.  Beat 
to  arms,   and  march  round  the  hall,   as  up   Lad  Lane, 

^  "To  celebrate  domestic  deeds." 


10  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Gutter  Lane,  Honey  Lane,  and  so  wheel  to  the  right,  and 
make  your  salute  to  my  lord,  and  so  down  St.  Ann's 
Lane,  up  Aldersgate  Street,  Barbican,  and  draw  up  in 
Eed  Cross  Street,  the  right  at  St.  Paul's  Alley  in  the 
rear.  March  off  lieutenant-general  with  half  the  body 
up  Beech  Lane:  he  sends  a  sub-division  up  King's  Head 
Court,  and  takes  post  in  it,  and  marches  two  divisions 
round  into  Eed  Lion  Market,  to  defend  that  pass,  and 
succor  the  division  in  King's  Head  Court;  but  keeps  in 
White  Cross  Street,  facing  Beech  Lane,  the  rest  of  the 
body  ready  drawn  up.  Then  the  general  marches  up 
Beech  Lane,  is  attacked,  but  forces  the  division  in  the 
court  into  the  market,  and  enters  with  three  divisions 
while  he  presses  the  lieutenant-general's  main  body;  and 
at  the  same  time  the  three  divisions  force  those  of  the 
revolters  out  of  the  market,  and  so  all  the  lieutenant-gen- 
eral's body  retreats  into  Chiswell  Street,  and  lodges  two 
divisions  in  Grub  Street:  and  as  the  general  marches  on, 
they  fall  on  his  flank,  but  soon  made  to  give  way:  but 
have  a  retreating-place  in  Eed  Lion  Court,  but  could  not 
hold  it,  being  put  to  flight  through  Paul's  Alley,  and  pur- 
sued by  the  general's  grenadiers,  while  he  marches  up 
and  attacks  their  main  body,  but  are  opposed  again  by  a 
party  of  men  as  lay  in  Black  Eaven  Court;  but  they  are 
forced  also  to  retire  soon  in  the  utmost  confusion,  and  at 
the  same  time,  those  brave  divisions  in  Paul's  Alley  ply 
their  rear  with  grenadoes,  that  with  precipitation  they 
take  to  the  route  along  Bunhill  Eow:  so  the  general 
marches  into  the  Artillery-ground,  and  being  drawn  up, 
finds  the  revolting  party  to  have  found  entrance,  and 
makes  a  show  as  if  for  a  battle,  and  both  armies  soon 
engage  in  form,  and  fire  by  platoons." 

Much  might  be  said  for  the  improvement  of  this  sys- 
tem; which,  for  its  style  and  invention,  may  instruct 
generals  and  their  historians,  both  in  fighting  a  battle, 
and  describing  it  when  it  is  over.  These  elegant  expres- 
sions, ''ditto — and  so — ^but  soon — ^but  having — ^but  could 
not — ^but  are — ^but  they — finds  the  party  to  have  found," 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  11 

etc.,  do  certainly  give  great  life  and  spirit  to  the  relation. 
Indeed,  I  am  extremely  concerned  for  the  lieutenant- 
general,  who,  by  his  overthrow  and  defeat,  is  made  a  de- 
plorable instance  of  the  fortune  of  war,  and  vicissitudes 
of  human  affairs.  He,  alas!  has  lost,  in  Beech  Lane 
and  Chiswell  Street,  all  the  glory  he  lately  gained  in  and 
about  Holborn  and  St.  Giles's.  The  art  of  subdividing 
first,  and  dividing  afterwards,  is  new  and  surprising;  and 
according  to  this  method,  the  troops  are  disposed  in 
King's  Head  Court  and  Eed  Lion  Market:  nor  is  the 
conduct  of  these  leaders  less  conspicuous  in  their  choice 
of  the  ground  or  field  of  battle.  Happy  was  it,  that  the 
greatest  part  of  the  achievements  of  this  day  was  to  be 
performed  near  Grub  Street,  that  there  might  not  be 
wanting  a  sufficient  number  of  faithful  historians,  who 
being  eye-witnesses  of  these  wonders,  should  impartially 
transmit  them  to  posterity!  But  then  it  can  never  be 
enough  regretted,  that  we  are  left  in  the  dark  as  to  the 
name  and  title  of  that  extraordinary  hero,  who  com- 
manded the  divisions  in  Paul's  Alley;  especially  because 
those  divisions  are  justly  styled  brave,  and  accordingly 
were  to  push  the  enemy  along  Bunhill  Bow,  and  thereby 
occasion  a  general  battle.  But  Pallas  appeared  in  the 
form  of  a  shower  of  rain,  and  prevented  the  slaughter 
and  desolation,  which  were  threatened  by  these  extraor- 
dinary preparations. 

Hi    motus    animorum,    atque    haec    certamina    tanta 
Pulveris  exigui  jactu  compressa  quiescunt. 

"Yet  all  those  dreadful  deeds,  this  doubtful  fray, 
A  cast  of  scatter'd  dust  will  soon  allay." 


[The  Tatler  No.  42.    Saturday,  July  16,  1709. 
Steele.] 

It  is  now  twelve  of  the  clock  at  noon,  and  no  mail  come 
in;  therefore,  I  am  not  without  hopes  that  the  town  will 


12  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

allow  me  the  liberty  whicli  my  brother  news-writers  take, 
in  giving  them  what  may  be  for  their  information  in 
another  kind,  and  indulge  me  in  doing  an  act  of  friend- 
ship, by  publishing  the  following  account  of  goods  and 
movables. 

This  is  to  give  notice,  that  a  magnificent  palace,  with 
great  variety  of  gardens,  statues,  and  water-works,  may 
be  bought  cheap  in  Drury-lane;  where  there  are  likewise 
several  castles,  to  be  disposed  of,  very  delightfully  situ- 
ated; as  also  groves,  woods,  forests,  fountains,  and  coun- 
try-seats, with  very  pleasant  prospects  on  all  sides  of 
them;  being  the  movables  of  Christopher  Rich,^  Esquire, 
who  is  breaking  up  housekeeping,  and  has  many  curious 
pieces  of  furniture  to  dispose  of,  which  may  be  seen  be- 
tween the  hours  of  six  and  ten  in  the  evening. 

THE    INVENTORY 

Spirits  of  right  Nantz  brandy,  for  lambent  flames  and 
apparitions. 

Three  bottles  and  a  half  of  lightning. 

One  shower  of  snow  in  the  whitest  French  paper. 

Two  showers  of  a  browner  sort. 

A  sea,  consisting  of  a  dozen  large  waves ;  the  tenth  big* 
ger  than  ordinary,  and  a  little  damaged. 

A  dozen  and  half  of  clouds,  trimmed  with  black,  and 
well-conditioned. 

A  rainbow,  a  little  faded. 

A  set  of  clouds  after  the  French  mode,  streaked  with 
lightning,  and  furbelowed. 

A  new  moon,  something  decayed. 

A  pint  of  the  finest  Spanish  wash,  being  all  that  is  left 
of  two  hogsheads  sent  over  last  winter. 

A  coach  very  finely  gilt,  and  little  used,  with  a  pair  of 
dragons,  to  be  sold  cheap. 

A   setting-sun,  a  pennyworth. 

*  Drury-lane  playhouse  was  shut  up  about  this  time  by  a& 
order   from    the   Lord    Chamberlain. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  13 

An  imperial  mantle,  made  for  Cyrus  the  Great,  and 
worn  by  Julius  Cassar,  Bajazet,  king  Harry  the  Eighth, 
and  signor  Valentini. 

A  basket-hilted  sword,  very  convenient  to  carry  milk  in. 

Eoxana's  night-gown. 

Othello's  handkerchief. 

The  imperial  robes  of  Xerxes,  never  worn  but  once. 

A  wild  boar  killed  by  Mrs.  Tofts  and  Diocletian, 

A  serpent  to  sting  Cleopatra. 

A  mustard-bowl  to  make  thunder  with. 

Another  of  a  bigger  sort,  by  Mr.  D s's  ^  directions, 

little  used. 

Six  elbow-chairs,  very  expert  in  country-dances,  with 
six  flower-pots  for  their  partners. 

The  whiskers  of  a  Turkish  Pasha. 

The  complexion  of  a  murderer  in  a  band-box;  consist- 
ing of  a  large  piece  of  burnt  cork,  and  a  coal-black 
peruke. 

A  suit  of  clothes  for  a  ghost,  viz,  a  bloody  shirt,  a 
doublet  curiously  pinked,  and  a  coat  with  three  great 
eyelet-holes  upon  the  breast. 

A  bale  of  red  Spanish  wool. 

Modern  plots,  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  trap- 
doors, ladders  of  ropes,  vizard-masques,  and  tables  with 
broad  carpets  over  them. 

Three  oak-cudgels,  with  one  of  crab-tree;  all  bought 
for  the  use  of  Mr.  Pinkethman.^ 

Materials  for  dancing;  as  masques,  castanets,  and  a 
ladder  of  ten  rounds. 

Aurengezebe's  scimitar,  made  by  Will  Brown  in  Pic- 
cadilly. 

A  plume  of  feathers,  never  used  but  by  (Edipus  and 
the  Earl  of  Essex. 

There  are  also  swords,  halbards,  sheep-hooks,  cardinals' 
hats,  turbans,  drums,  gallipots,  a  gibbet,  a  cradle,  a  rack, 

^  John   Dennis,   the  critic. 

3  A  low  comedy  actor  and   manager  of  a  traveling  company. 


14  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

a  cart-wheel,  an  altar,  an  helmet,  a  back-piece,  a  breast- 
plate, a  bell,  a  tub,  and  a  jointed  baby. 

These  are  the  hard  shifts  we  intelligencers  are  forced 
to ;  therefore  our  readers  ought  to  excuse  us,  if  a  westerly- 
wind  blowing  for  a  fortnight  together,  generally  fills  every 
paper  with  an  order  of  battle;  when  we  show  our  martial 
skill  in  every  line,  and  according  to  the  space  we  have  to 
fill,  we  range  our  men  in  squadrons  and  battalions,  or 
draw  out  company  by  company,  and  troop  by  troop;  ever 
observing  that  no  muster  is  to  be  made,  but  when  the 
wind  is  in  a  cross-point,  which  often  happens  at  the  end 
of  a  campaign,  when  half  the  men  are  deserted  or  killed.* 
The  Courant  is  sometimes  ten  deep,  his  ranks  close:  the 
Post-boy  is  generally  in  files,  for  greater  exactness;  and 
the  Post-man  comes  down  upon  you  rather  after  the 
Turkish  way,  sword  in  hand,  pell-mell,  without  form  or 
discipline;  but  sure  to  bring  men  enough  into  the  field; 
and  wherever  they  are  raised,  never  to  lose  a  battle  for 
want  of  numbers. 


[The  Tatler  No.  132.    Saturday,  February  11,  1709-10. 

Steele.] 

Habeo  senectuti  magnam  gratiam,  quae  mihi  sermonis  avid 
itatem  auxit,  potionis  et  cibi  sustulit.^ — Tull.     de  Sen. 

After  having  applied  my  mind  with  more  than  ordi- 
nary attention  to  my  studies,  it  is  my  usual  custom  to 
relax  and  unbend  it  in  the  conversation  of  such,  as  are 
rather  easy  than  shining  companions.  This  I  find  par- 
ticularly necessary  for  me  before  I  retire  to  rest,  in  or- 
der to  draw  my  slumbers  upon  me  by  degrees,  and  fall 

^  A  sneer  at  the  ridiculous  miUtary  articles  published  in  the 
newspapers  of  those  days,  irtroduced  perhaps  with  a  view  to 
insinuate  that  the  news  articles  in  the  Tatler  were  most  to  be 
relied    upon    of    any    then    published. 

^  I  am  much  beholden  to  old  age,  which  has  increased  my 
eagerness  for  conversation  in  proportion  as  it  has  lessened  my  ap- 
petites   of    hunger    and    thirst. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  15 

asleep  insensibly.  This  is  the  particular  use  I  make 
of  a  set  of  heavy  honest  men,  with  whom  I  have  passed 
many  hours  with  much  indolence,  though  not  with  great 
pleasure.  Their  conversation  is  a  kind  of  preparative 
for  sleep:  it  takes  the  mind  down  from  its  abstractions, 
leads  it  into  the  familiar  traces  of  thought,  and  lulls  it 
into  that  state  of  tranquillity  which  is  the  condition  of 
a  thinking  man,  when  he  is  but  half  awake.  After  this, 
my  reader  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  the  account, 
which  I  am  about  to  give  of  a  club  of  my  own  contempo- 
raries, among  whom  I  pass  two  or  three  hours  every  eve- 
ning. This  I  look  upon  as  taking  my  first  nap  before 
I  go  to  bed.  The  truth  of  it  is,  I  should  think  myself 
unjust  to  posterity,  as  well  as  to  the  society  at  the  Trum- 
pet, of  which  I  am  a  member,  did  not  I  in  some  part  of 
my  writings  give  an  account  of  the  persons  among  whom 
I  have  passed  almost  a  sixth  part  of  my  time  for  these 
last  forty  years.  Our  club  consisted  originally  of  fif- 
teen; but,  partly  by  the  severity  of  the  law  in  arbitrary 
times,  and  partly  by  the  natural  effects  of  old  age,  we  are 
at  present  reduced  to  a  third  part  of  that  number:  in 
which,  however,  we  hear  this  consolation,  that  the  best 
company  is  said  to  consist  of  five  persons.  I  must  con- 
fess, besides  the  aforementioned  benefit  which  I  meet 
with  in  the  conversation  of  this  select  society,  I  am  not 
the  less  pleased  with  the  company,  in  that  I  find  myself 
the  greatest  wit  among  them,  and  am  heard  as  their  ora- 
cle in  all  points  of  learning  and  difficulty. 

Sir  Jeoffrey  Notch,  who  is  the  oldest  of  the  club,  has 
been  in  possession  of  the  right-hand  chair  time  out  of 
mind,  and  is  the  only  man  among  us  that  has  the  liberty 
of  stirring  the  fire.  This  our  foreman  is  a  gentleman  of 
an  ancient  family,  that  came  to  a  great  estate  some  years 
before  he  had  discretion,  and  run  it  out  in  hounds,  horses, 
and  cock-fighting;  for  which  reason  he  looks  upon  him- 
self as  an  honest,  worthy  gentleman,  who  has  had  mis- 
fortunes in  the  world,  and  calls  every  thriving  man  a 
pitiful  upstart. 


16  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Major  Matchlock  is  the  next  senior,  who  served  in  the 
last  civil  wars,  and  has  all  the  battles  by  heart.  He  does 
not  think  any  action  in  Europe  worth  talking  of  since 
the  fight  of  Marston  Moor ;  and  every  night  tells  us  of  his 
having  been  knocked  off  his  horse  at  the  rising  of  the 
London  apprentices;  for  which  he  is  in  great  esteem 
among  us. 

Honest  old  Dick  Reptile  is  the  third  of  our  society. 
He  is  a  good-natured  indolent  man,  who  speaks  little 
himself,  but  laughs  at  our  jokes;  and  brings  his  young 
nephew  along  with  him,  a  youth  of  eighteen  years  old, 
to  show  him  good  company,  and  give  him  a  taste  of  the 
world.  This  young  fellow  sits  generally  silent ;  but  when- 
ever he  opens  his  mouth,  or  laughs  at  anything  that 
passes,  he  is  constantly  told  by  his  uncle,  after  a  jocular 
manner,  ^^Aj,  ay.  Jack,  you  young  men  think  us  fools; 
but  we  old  men  know  you  are." 

The  greatest  wit  of  our  company,  next  to  myself,  is  a 
Bencher  of  the  neighboring  Inn,  who  in  his  youth  fre- 
quented the  ordinaries  about  Charing  Cross,  and  pre- 
tends to  have  been  intimate  with  Jack  Ogle.  He  has 
about  ten  distichs  of  Hudibras  without  book,  and  never 
leaves  the  club  until  he  has  applied  them  all.  If  any 
modern  wit  be  mentioned,  or  any  town-frolic  spoken  of, 
he  shakes  his  head  at  the  dullness  of  the  present  age,  and 
tells  us  a  story  of  Jack  Ogle. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  esteemed  among  them,  because 
they  see  I  am  something  respected  by  others;  though  at 
the  same  time  I  understand  by  their  behavior,  that  I  am 
considered  by  them  as  a  man  of  a  great  deal  of  learning, 
but  no  knowledge  of  the  world;  insomuch,  that  the  Major 
sometimes,  in  the  height  of  his  military  pride,  calls  me 
the  Philosopher:  and  Sir  Jeoffrey,  no  longer  ago  than 
last  night,  upon  a  dispute  what  day  of  the  month  it  was 
then  in  Holland,  pulled  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and 
cried,  'What  does  the  scholar  say  to  it?" 

Our  club  meets  precisely  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening; 
but  I  did  not  come  last  night  until  half  an  hour  after 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  17 

seven,  by  which  means  I  escaped  the  battle  of  Naseby, 
which  the  Major  usually  begins  at  about  three-quarters 
after  six:  I  found  also,  that  my  good  friend  the  Bencher 
had  already  spent  three  of  his  distichs;  and  only  waited 
an  opportunity  to  hear  a  sermon  spoken  of,  that  he  might 
introduce  the  couplet  where  *^a  stick"  rhymes  to  "ecclesi- 
astic." At  my  entrance  into  the  room,  they  were  nam- 
ing a  red  petticoat  and  a  cloak,  by  which  I  found  that  the 
Bencher  had  been  diverting  them  with  a  story  of  Jack 
Ogle. 

I  had  no  sooner  taken  my  seat,  but  Sir  Jeoffrey,  to 
show  his  good-will  towards  me,  gave  me  a  pipe  of  his  own 
tobacco,  and  stirred  up  the  fire.  I  look  upon  it  as  a  point 
of  morality,  to  be  obliged  by  those  who  endeavor  to  oblige 
me;  and  therefore,  in  requital  for  his  kindness,  and  to 
set  the  conversation  a-going,  I  took  the  best  occasion  I 
could  to  put  him  upon  telling  us  the  story  of  old  Gant- 
lett,  which  he  always  does  with  very  particular  concern. 
He  traced  up  his  descent  on  both  sides  for  several  gen- 
erations, describing  his  diet  and  manner  of  life,  with  his 
several  battles,  and  particularly  that  in  which  he  fell. 
This  Gantlett  was  a  gamecock,  upon  whose  head  the 
knight,  in  his  youth,  had  won  five  hundred  pounds,  and 
lost  two  thousand.  This  naturally  set  the  Major  upon 
the  account  of  Edge  Hill  fight,  and  ended  in  a  duel  of 
Jack  Ogle's. 

Old  Eeptile  was  extremely  attentive  to  all  that  was  said, 
though  it  was  the  same  he  had  heard  every  night  for 
these  twenty  years,  and,  upon  all  occasions,  winked  upon 
his  nephew  to  mind  what  passed. 

This  may  suffice  to  give  the  world  a  taste  of  our  inno- 
cent conversation,  which  we  spun  out  until  about  ten  of 
the  clock,  when  my  maid  came  with  a  lantern  to  light  me 
home.  I  could  not  but  reflect  with  myself,  as  I  was 
going  out,  upon  the  talkative  humor  of  old  men,  and  the 
little  figure  which  that  part  of  life  makes  in  one  who 
cannot  employ  his  natural  propensity  in  discourses  which 
would  make  him  venerable.     I  must  own,  it  makes  me 


18  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

very  melanclioly  in  company,  when  I  hear  a  young  man 
begin  a  story;  and  have  often  observed,  that  one  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  long  in  a  man  of  five-and-twenty, 
gathers  circumstances  every  time  he  tells  it,  until  it 
grows  into  a  long  Canterbury  tale  of  two  hours  by  that 
time  he  is  threescore. 

The  only  way  of  avoiding  such  a  trifling  and  frivolous 
old  age  is,  to  lay  up  in  our  way  to  it  such  stores  of  knowl- 
edge and  observation,  as  may  make  us  useful  and  agree- 
able in  our  declining  years.  The  mind  of  man  in  a  long 
life  will  become  a  magazine  of  wisdom  or  folly,  and  will 
consequently  discharge  itself  in  something  impertinent  or 
improving.  For  which  reason,  as  there  is  nothing  more 
ridiculous  than  an  old  trifling  story-teller,  so  there  is 
nothing  more  venerable,  than  one  who  has  turned  his  ex- 
perience to  the  entertainment  and  advantage  of  man- 
kind. 

In  short,  we,  who  are  in  the  last  stage  of  life,  and  are 
apt  to  indulge  ourselves  in  talk,  ought  to  consider,  if 
what  we  speak  be  worth  being  heard,  and  endeavor  to 
make  our  discourse  like  that  of  Nestor,  which  Homer 
compares  to  the  flowing  of  honey  for  its  sweetness. 


[The   Tatler   No.   155.    Thursday,  April   6,   1710. 
Addison.] 

Aliena  negotia  curat, 
Excussus  propriis, — Hob. 

From  my  own  apartment,  April  5. 

There  lived  some  years  since  within  my  neighborhood 
a  very  grave  person,  an  upholsterer,  who  seemed  a  man 
of  more  than  ordinary  application  to  business.  He  was 
a  very  early  riser,  and  was  often  abroad  two  or  three 
hours  before  any  of  his  neighbors.  He  had  a  particu- 
lar carefulness  in  the  knitting  of  his  brows,  and  a  kind 
of  impatience  in  all  his  motions,  that  plainly  discovered 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  19 

he  was  always  intent  on  matters  of  importance.  Upon 
my  inquiry  into  his  life  and  conversation,  I  found  him 
to  be  the  greatest  newsmonger  in  our  quarter;  that  he 
rose  before  day  to  read  the  Post  Man;  and  that  he  would 
take  two  or  three  turns  to  the  other  end  of  the  town 
before  his  neighbors  were  up,  to  see  if  there  were  any 
Dutch  mails  come  in.  He  had  a  wife  and  several  chil- 
dren; but  was  much  more  inquisitive  to  know  what 
passed  in  Poland  than  in  his  own  family,  and  was  in 
greater  pain  and  anxiety  of  mind  for  King  Augustus's 
weKare  than  that  of  his  nearest  relations.  He  looked 
extremely  thin  in  a  dearth  of  news,  and  never  enjoyed 
himself  in  a  westerly  wind.  This  indefatigable  kind  of 
life  was  the  ruin  of  his  shop;  for  about  the  time  that  his 
favorite  prince  left  the  crown  of  Poland,  he  broke  and 
disappeared. 

This  man  and  his  affairs  had  been  long  out  of  my 
mind,  till  about  three  days  ago,  as  I  was  walking  in  St. 
James's  Park,  I  heard  somebody  at  a  distance  hemming 
after  me :  and  who  should  it  be  but  my  old  neighbor  the 
upholsterer?  I  saw  he  was  reduced  to  extreme  poverty, 
by  certain  shabby  superfluities  in  his  dress:  for  notwith- 
standing that  it  was  a  very  sultry  day  for  the  time  of 
the  year,  he  worse  a  loose  greatcoat  and  a  muff,  with 
a  long  campaign- wig  out  of  curl;  to  which  he  had  added 
the  ornament  of  a  pair  of  black  garters  buckled  under  the 
knee.  Upon  his  coming  up  to  me,  I  was  going  to  inquire 
into  his  present  circumstances;  but  was  prevented  by  his 
asking  me,  with  a  whisper,  Whether  the  last  letters 
brought  any  accounts  that  one  might  rely  upon  from  Ben- 
der? I  told  him,  None  that  I  heard  of;  and  asked  him, 
Whether  he  had  yet  married  his  eldest  daughter?  He 
told  me.  No.  But  pray,  says  he,  tell  me  sincerely,  what 
are  your  thoughts  of  the  king  of  Sweden?  (for  though 
his  wife  and  children  were  starving,  I  found  his  chief 
concern  at  present  was  for  this  great  monarch).  I  told 
him,  that  I  looked  upon  him  as  one  of  the  first  heroes 
of  the  age.     But  pray,  says  he,  do  you  think  there  is  any- 


20  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

thing  in  the  story  of  his  wound?  and  finding  me  sur- 
prised at  the  question,  Nay,  says  he,  I  only  propose  it  to 
you.  I  answered,  that  I  thought  there  was  no  reason  to 
doubt  of  it.  But  why  in  the  heel,  say  he,  more  than  in 
any  other  part  of  the  body?  Because,  says  I,  the  bullet 
chanced  to  light  there. 

This  extraordinary  dialogue  was  no  sooner  ended,  but 
he  began  to  launch  out  into  a  long  dissertation  upon  the 
affairs  of  the  North;  and  after  having  spent  some  time 
on  them,  he  told  me,  he  was  in  a  great  perplexity  how 
to  reconcile  the  Supplement  with  the  English  Post,  and 
had  been  just  now  examining  what  the  other  papers  say 
upon  the  same  subject.  The  Daily  Courant,  says  he,  has 
these  words,  "We  have  advices  from  very  good  hands, 
that  a  certain  prince  has  some  matters  of  great  impor- 
tance under  consideration."  This  is  very  mysterious;  but 
the  Post  Boy  leaves  us  more  in  the  dark,  for  he  tells  us, 
"That  there  are  private  intimations  of  measures  taken 
by  a  certain  prince,  which  time  will  bring  to  light." 
Now  the  Post  Man,  says  he,  who  used  to  be  very  clear, 
refers  to  the  same  news  in  these  words;  "The  late  con- 
duct of  a  certain  prince  affords  great  matter  of  specula- 
tion." This  certain  prince,  says  the  upholsterer,  whom 
they  are  all  so  cautious  of  naming,  I  take  to  be — upon 
which,  though  there  was  nobody  near  us,  he  whispered 
something  in  my  ear  which  I  did  not  hear,  or  think  worth 
my  while  to  make  him  repeat. 

We  were  now  got  to  the  upper  end  of  the  Mall,  where 
were  three  or  four  very  odd  fellows  sitting  together  upon 
the  bench.  These  I  found  were  all  of  them  politicians, 
who  used  to  sun  themselves  in  that  place  every  day  about 
dinner-time.  Observing  them  to  be  curiosities  in  their 
kind,  and  my  friend's  acquaintance,  I  sat  down  among 
them. 

The  chief  politician  of  the  bench  was  a  great  assertor 
of  paradoxes.  He  told  us,  with  a  seeming  concern,  that 
by  some  news  he  had  lately  read  from  Muscovy,  it  ap- 
peared to  him  that  there  was  a  storm  gathering  in  the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  21 

Black  Sea,  which  might  in  time  do  hurt  to  the  naval  forces 
of  this  nation.  To  this  he  added,  that  for  his  part,  he 
could  not  wish  to  see  the  Turk  driven  out  of  Europe, 
which  he  believed  could  not  but  be  prejudicial  to  our 
woollen  manufacture.  He  then  told  us,  that  he  looked 
upon  those  extraordinary  revolutions  which  had  lately 
happened  in  these  parts  of  the  world,  to  have  risen  chiefly 
from  two  persons  who  were  not  much  talked  of ;  and  those, 
says  he,  are  Prince  Menzikoff,  and  the  Duchess  of  Miran- 
dola.  He  backed  his  assertions  with  so  many  broken 
hints,  and  such  a  show  of  depth  and  wisdom,  that  we 
gave  ourselves  up  to  his  opinions. 

The  discourse  at  length  fell  upon  a  point  which  sel- 
dom escapes  a  knot  of  true-born  Englishmen,  whether  in 
case  of  a  religious  war,  the  Protestants  would  not  be  too 
strong  for  the  Papists?  This  we  unanimously  deter- 
mined on  the  Protestant  side.  One  who  sat  on  my  right 
hand,  and,  as  I  found  by  his  discourse,  had  been  in  the 
West  Indies,  assured  us,  that  it  would  be  a  very  easy 
matter  for  the  Protestants  to  beat  the  pope  at  sea;  and 
added,  that  whenever  such  a  war  does  break  out,  it  must 
turn  to  the  good  of  the  Leeward  Islands.  Upon  this,  one 
who  sat  at  the  end  of  the  bench,  and,  as  I  afterwards 
found,  was  the  geographer  of  the  company,  said,  that  in 
case  the  Papists  should  drive  the  Protestants  from  these 
parts  of  Europe,  when  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  beat  them  out  of  Norway  and 
Greenland,  provided  the  northern  crowns  hold  together, 
and  the  Czar  of  Muscovy  stand  neuter. 

He  further  told  us  for  our  comfort,  that  there  were 
vast  tracts  of  land  about  the  pole,  inhabited  neither  by 
Protestants  nor  Papists,  and  of  greater  extent  than  all 
the  Roman  Catholic  dominions  in  Europe. 

When  we  had  fully  discussed  this  point,  my  friend 
the  upholsterer  began  to  exert  himself  upon  the  present 
negotiations  of  peace,  in  which  he  deposed  princes,  set- 
tled the  bounds  of  kingdoms,  and  balanced  the  power 
of  Europe,  with  great  justice  and  impartiality. 


22  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

I  at  length  took  my  leave  of  the  company,  and  was 
going  away;  but  had  not  been  gone  thirty  yards,  before 
the  upholsterer  hemmed  again  after  me.  Upon  his  ad- 
vancing towards  me,  with  a  whisper,  I  expected  to  hear 
some  secret  piece  of  news,  which  he  had  not  thought  fit 
to  communicate  to  the  bench;  but  instead  of  that,  he  de- 
sired me  in  my  ear  to  lend  him  half-a-crown.  In  com- 
passion to  so  needy  a  statesman,  and  to  dissipate  the  con- 
fusion I  found  he  was  in,  I  told  him,  if  he  pleased,  I 
would  give  him  five  shillings,  to  receive  five  pounds  of 
him  when  the  Great  Turk  was  driven  out  of  Constanti- 
nople; which  he  very  readily  accepted,  but  not  before  he 
had  laid  down  to  me  the  impossibility  of  such  an  event, 
as  the  affairs  of  Europe  now  stand. 

This  paper  I  design  for  the  particular  benefit  of  those 
worthy  citizens  who  live  more  in  a  coffee-house  than  in 
their  shops,  and  whose  thoughts  are  so  taken  up  with  the 
affairs  of  the  allies,  that  they  forget  their  customers. 


[The  Tatler  No.  158.     Thursday,  Aprh.  13,  1710. 

Addison.] 

Faciunt  nae  intelligendo,  ut  nihil  intelligant.^ — Teb. 

Tom  Folio  is  a  broker  in  learning,  employed  to  get 
together  good  editions,  and  stock  the  libraries  of  great 
men.  There  is  not  a  sale  of  books  begins  until  Tom 
Folio  is  seen  at  the  door.  There  is  not  an  auction  where 
his  name  is  not  heard,  and  that  too  in  the  very  nick  of 
time,  in  the  critical  moment,  before  the  last  decisive 
stroke  of  the  hammer.  There  is  not  a  subscription  goes 
forward  in  which  Tom  is  not  privy  to  the  first  rough 
draught  of  the  proposals;  nor  a  catalogue  printed,  that 
doth  not  come  to  him  wet  from  the  press.  He  is  an  uni- 
versal scholar,  so   far  as  the  title-page  of  all  authors; 

^  While  they  pretend  to  know  more  than  others,  they  know 
nothing   in    reality. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  23 

knows  th©  manuscripts  in  which  they  were  discovered, 
the  editions  through  which  they  have  passed,  with  the 
praises  or  censures  which  they  have  received  from  the 
several  members  of  the  learned  world.  He  has  a  greater 
esteem  for  Aldus  and  Elzevir,  than  for  Virgil  and  Hor- 
ace. If  you  talk  of  Herodotus,  he  breaks  out  into  a 
panegyric  upon  Harry  Stephens.  He  thinks  he  gives  you 
an  account  of  an  author,  when  he  tells  you  the  subject 
he  treats  of,  the  name  of  the  editor,  and  the  year  in 
which  it  was  printed.  Or  if  you  draw  him  into  farther 
particulars,  he  cries  up  the  goodness  of  the  paper,  extols 
the  diligence  of  the  corrector,  and  is  transported  with 
the  beauty  of  the  letter.  This  he  looks  upon  to  be  sound 
learning,  and  substantial  criticism.  As  for  those  who 
talk  of  the  fineness  of  style,  and  the  justness  of  thought, 
or  describe  the  brightness  of  any  particular  passages ;  nay, 
though  they  themselves  write  in  the  genius  and  spirit  of 
the  author  they  admire;  Tom  looks  upon  them  as  men 
of  superficial  learning,  and  flashy  parts. 

I  had  yesterday  morning  a  visit  from  this  learned  ideot, 
for  that  is  the  light  in  which  I  consider  every  pedant, 
when  I  discovered  in  him  some  little  touches  of  the  cox- 
comb, which  I  had  not  before  observed.  Being  very  full 
of  the  figure  which  he  makes  in  the  republic  of  letters, 
and  wonderfully  satisfied  with  his  great  stock  of  knowl- 
edge, he  gave  me  broad  intimations,  that  he  did  not  be- 
lieve in  all  points  as  his  forefathers  had  done.  He  then 
communicated  to  me  a  thought  of  a  certain  author  upon 
a  passage  of  Virgil's  account  of  the  dead,  which  I  made 
the  subject  of  a  late  paper.  This  thought  hath  taken 
very  much  among  men  of  Tom's  pitch  and  understand- 
ing, though  universally  exploded  by  all  that  know  how 
to  construe  Virgil,  or  have  any  relish  of  antiquity.  Not 
to  trouble  my  reader  with  it,  I  found,  upon  the  whole, 
that  Tom  did  not  believe  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  because  ^neas,  at  his  leaving  the  empire 
of  the  dead,  passed  through  the  gate  of  ivory,  and  not 
through  that  of  horn.     Knowing  that  Tom  had  not  sense 


24  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

enough  to  give  up  an  opinion  which  he  had  once  received, 
that  I  might  avoid  wrangling,  I  told  him  "that  Virgil 
possibly  had  his  oversights  as  well  as  another  author.'^ 
"Ah!  Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  says  he,  "you  would  have  another 
opinion  of  him,  if  you  would  read  him  in  Daniel  Hein- 
sius's  edition.  I  have  perused  him  myself  several  times 
in  that  edition,"  continued  he;  "and  after  the  strictest 
and  most  malicious  examination,  could  find  but  two  faults 
in  him;  one  of  them  is  in  the  ^neids,  where  there  are 
two  commas  instead  of  a  parenthesis;  and  another  in  the 
third  Georgic,  where  you  may  find  a  semicolon  turned 
upside  down."  "Perhaps,"  said  I,  "these  were  not  Vir- 
gil's faults,  but  those  of  the  transcriber."  "I  do  not  de- 
sign it,"  says  Tom,  "as  a  reflection  on  Virgil;  on  the  con- 
trary, I  know  that  all  the  manuscripts  declaim  against 
such  a  punctuation.  Oh !  Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  says  he,  "what 
would  a  man  give  to  see  one  simile  of  Virgil  writ  in  his 
own  hand?"  I  asked  him  which  was  the  simile  he  meant; 
but  was  answered,  any  simile  in  Virgil.  He  then  told 
me  all  the  secret  history  in  the  commonwealth  of  learn- 
ing; of  modem  pieces  that  had  the  names  of  ancient  au- 
tTiors  annexed  to  them;  of  all  the  books  that  were  now 
writing  or  printing  in  the  several  parts  of  Europe;  of 
many  amendments  which  are  made,  and  not  yet  published, 
and  a  thousand  other  particulars,  which  I  would  not  have 
my  memory  burdened  with  for  a  Vatican. 

At  length,  being  fully  persuaded  that  I  thoroughly  ad- 
mired him,  and  looked  upon  him  as  a  prodigy  of  learn- 
ing, he  took  his  leave.  I  know  several  of  Tom's  class, 
who  are  professed  admirers  of  Tasso,  without  understand- 
ing a  word  of  Italian :  and  one  in  particular,  that  carries 
a  Pastor  Fido  in  his  pocket,  in  which,  I  am  sure,  he  is 
acquainted  with  no  other  beauty  but  the  clearness  of  the 
character. 

There  is  another  kind  of  pedant,  who,  with  all  Tom 
Eolio's  impertinences,  hath  greater  superstructures  and 
embellishments  of  Greek  and  Latin;  and  is  still  more  in- 
supportable than  the  other,  in  the  same  degree  as  he  is 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  25 

more  learned.  Of  this  kind  very  often  are  editors,  com- 
mentators, interpreters,  scholiasts,  and  critics;  and,  in 
short,  all  men  of  deep  learning  without  common  sense. 
These  persons  set  a  greater  value  on  themselves  for  hav- 
ing found  out  the  meaning  of  a  passage  in  Greek,  than 
upon  the  author  for  having  written  it;  nay,  will  allow 
the  passage  itself  not  to  have  any  beauty  in  it,  at  the 
same  time  that  they  would  be  considered  as  the  greatest 
men  of  the  age,  for  having  interpreted  it.  They  will  look 
with  contempt  on  the  most  beautiful  poems  that  have 
been  composed  by  any  of  their  contemporaries;  but  will 
lock  themselves  up  in  their  studies  for  a  twelvemonth  to- 
gether, to  correct,  publish,  and  expound  such  trifles  of 
antiquity,  as  a  modern  author  would  be  contemned  for. 
Men  of  the  strictest  morals,  severest  lives,  and  the  grav- 
est professions,  will  write  volumes  upon  an  idle  sonnet, 
that  is  originally  in  Greek  or  Latin;  give  editions  of  the 
most  immoral  authors;  and  spin  out  whole  pages  upon 
the  various  readings  of  a  lewd  expression.  All  that  can 
be  said  in  excuse  for  them  is,  that  their  works  sufficiently 
shew  they  have  no  taste  of  their  authors;  and  that  what 
they  do  in  this  kind,  is  out  of  their  great  learning,  and 
not  out  of  any  levity  or  lasciviousness  of  temper. 

A  pedant  of  this  nature  is  wonderfully  well  described 
in  six  lines  of  Boileau,  with  which  I  shall  conclude  his 
character : 


Un  Pedant  enyvre  de  sa  vaine  science, 
Tout  herisse  de  Grec,  tout  bouffi  d'arrogance. 
Et  qui  de  mille  auteurs  retenus  mot  pour  mot, 
Dans  sa  tete  entassez  n'a  souvent  fait  qu'un  sot, 
Croit  qu'un  livre  fait  tout,  and  que  sans  Aristote 
La  raison  ne  voit  goute,  and  le  bon  sens  radote. 

Brim-full  of  learning  see  that  pedant  stride, 
Bristling  with  horrid  Greek,  and  puff'd  with  pride! 
A  thousand  authors  he  in  vain  has  read, 
And  with  their  maxims  stuff 'd  his  empty  head; 
And   thinks  that,   without  Aristotle's  rule, 
Reason  is  blind,  and  common  sense  a  fool. 


26  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

[The  Tatler  No.  161.    Thursday,  April  20,  1710. 
Addison.] 

Nunquam    Libertas   gratior   extat 

Qu£Lm  sub  rege  pio.^ 

I  was  walking  two  or  three  days  ago  in  a  very  pleas- 
ant retirement,  and  amusing  myself  with  the  reading  of 
that  ancient  and  beautiful  allegory,  called  "The  Table 
of  Cebes.''  I  was  at  last  so  tired  with  my  walk,  that  I 
sat  down  to  rest  myself  upon  a  bench  that  stood  in  the 
midst  of  an  agreeable  shade.  The  music  of  the  birds, 
that  filled  all  the  trees  about  me,  lulled  me  asleep  before 
I  was  aware  of  it;  which  was  followed  by  a  dream,  that 
I  impute  in  some  measure  to  the  foregoing  author,  who 
had  made  an  impression  upon  my  imagination,  and  put 
me  into  his  own  way  of  thinking. 

I  fancied  myself  among  the  Alps,  and,  as  it  is  natural 
in  a  dream,  seemed  every  moment  to  bound  from  one 
summit  to  another,  until  at  last,  having  made  this  airy 
progress  over  the  tops  of  several  mountains,  I  arrived 
at  the  very  center  of  those  broken  rocks  and  precipices. 
I  here,  methought,  saw  a  prodigious  circuit  of  hills,  that 
reached  above  the  clouds,  and  encompassed  a  large  space 
of  ground,  which  I  had  a  great  curiosity  to  look  into.  I 
thereupon  continued  my  former  way  of  traveling  through 
a  great  variety  of  winter  scenes,  until  I  had  gained  the 
top  of  these  white  mountains,  which  seemed  another  Alps 
of  snow.  I  looked  down  from  hence  into  a  spacious  plain, 
which  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  this  mound  of  hills, 
and  which  presented  me  with  the  most  agreeable  pros- 
pect I  had  ever  seen.  There  was  a  greater  variety  of 
colors  in  the  embroidery  of  the  meadows,  a  more  lively 
green  in  the  leaves  and  grass,  a  brighter  crystal  in  the 
streams,  than  what  I  ever  met  with  in  any  other  region. 

^  Never  does  Liberty  appear  more  amiable  than  under  the 
government    of   a   pious   and   good   prince. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  27 

The  light  itself  had  something  more  shining  and  glori- 
ous in  it,  than  that  of  which  the  day  is  made  in  other 
places.  I  was  wonderfully  astonished  at  the  discovery  of 
such  a  paradise  amidst  the  wildness  of  those  cold,  hoary 
landskips  which  lay  about  it;  but  found  at  length,  that 
this  happy  region  was  inhabited  by  the  goddess  of  Lib- 
erty; whose  presence  softened  the  rigors  of  the  climate, 
enriched  the  barrenness  of  the  soil,  and  more  than  sup- 
plied the  absence  of  the  sun.  The  place  was  covered  with 
a  wonderful  profusion  of  flowers,  that,  without  being  dis- 
posed into  regular  borders  and  parterres,  grew  promis- 
cuously ;  and  had  a  greater  beauty  in  their  natural  luxuri- 
ancy  and  disorder,  than  they  could  have  received  from 
the  checks  and  restraints  of  art.  There  was  a  river  that 
arose  out  of  the  south  side  of  the  mountain,  that  by  an 
infinite  number  of  turnings  and  windings,  seemed  to  visit 
every  plant,  and  cherish  the  several  beauties  of  the  spring 
with  which  the  fields  abounded.  After  having  run  to  and 
fro  in  a  wonderful  variety  of  meanders,  as  unwilling  to 
leave  so  charming  a  place,  it  at  last  throws  itself  into  the 
hollow  of  a  mountain;  from  whence  it  passes  under  a 
long  range  of  rocks,  and  at  length  rises  in  that  part  of 
the  Alps  where  the  inhabitants  think  is  the  first  source 
of  the  Rhone.  This  river,  after  having  made  its  progress 
through  those  free  nations,  stagnates  in  a  huge  lake  at 
the  leaving  of  them ;  and  no  sooner  enters  into  the  regions 
of  slavery  but  it  runs  through  them  with  an  incredible 
rapidity,  and  takes  its  shortest  way  to  the  sea. 

I  descend  into  the  happy  fields  that  lay  beneath  me, 
and  in  the  midst  of  them  beheld  the  goddess  sitting  upon 
a  throne.  She  had  nothing  to  enclose  her  but  the  bounds 
of  her  own  dominions,  and  nothing  over  her  head  but 
the  heavens.  Every  glance  of  her  eye  cast  a  track  of 
light  where  it  fell,  that  revived  the  spring,  and  made  all 
things  smile  about  her.  My  heart  grew  cheerful  at  the 
sight  of  her;  and  as  she  looked  upon  me,  I  found  a  cer- 
tain confidence  growing  in  me,  and  such  an  inward  reso- 
lution as  I  never  felt  before  that  time. 


28  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

On  the  left-hand  of  the  goddess  sat  the  Genius  of  a 
Commonwealth,  with  the  cap  of  Liberty  on  her  head,  and 
in  her  hand  a  wand,  like  that  with  which  a  Roman  citizen 
used  to  give  his  slaves  their  freedom.  There  was  some- 
thing mean  and  vulgar  but  at  the  same  time  exceeding 
bold  and  daring  in  her  air;  her  eyes  were  full  of  fire; 
but  had  in  them  such  casts  of  fierceness  and  cruelty,  as 
made  her  appear  to  me  rather  dreadful  than  amiable. 
On  her  shoulders  she  wore  a  mantle,  on  which  there  was 
wrought  a  great  confusion  of  figures.  As  it  flew  in  the 
wind,  I  could  not  discern  the  particular  design  of  them 
but  saw  wounds  in  the  bodies  of  some,  and  agonies  in  the 
faces  of  others;  and  over  one  part  of  it  I  could  read  in 
letters  of  blood,  'The  Ides  of  March." 

On  the  right-hand  of  the  goddess  was  the  Genius  of 
Monarchy.  She  was  clothed  in  the  whitest  ermine,  and 
wore  a  crown  of  the  purest  gold  upon  her  head.  In  her 
hand  she  held  a  scepter  like  that  which  is  borne  by  the 
British  monarchs.  A  couple  of  tame  lions  lay  crouching 
at  her  feet.  Her  countenance  had  in  it  a  very  great 
majesty  without  and  mixture  of  terror.  Her  voice  was 
like  the  voice  of  an  angel,  filled  with  so  much  sweetness, 
accompanied  with  such  an  air  of  condescension,  as  tem- 
pered the  awfulness  of  her  appearance,  and  equally,  in- 
spired love  and  veneration  into  the  hearts  of  all  that  be- 
held her. 

In  the  train  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  were  the  several 
Arts  and  Sciences,  who  all  of  them  flourished  underneath 
her  eye.  One  of  them  in  particular  made  a  greater  fig- 
ure than  any  of  the  rest,  who  held  a  thunderbolt  in  her 
right  hand,  which  had  the  power  of  melting,  piercing, 
or  breaking,  everything  that  stood  in  its  way.  The  name 
of  this  goddess  was  Eloquence. 

There  were  two  other  dependent  goddesses,  who  made  a 
very  conspicuous  figure  in  this  blissful  region.  The  first 
of  them  was  seated  upon  a  hill,  that  had  every  plant  grow- 
ing out  of  it,  which  the  soil  was  in  its  own  nature  capa- 
ble of  producing.     The  other  was  seated  in  a  little  island 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  29 

that  was  covered  with  groves  of  spices,  olives,  and  orange 
trees;  and  in  a  word,  with  the  products  of  every  foreign 
clime.  The  name  of  the  first  was  Plenty,  and  of  the  sec- 
ond Commerce.  The  first  leaned  her  right  arm  upon  a 
plow,  and  under  her  left  held  a  huge  horn  out  of  which 
she  poured  a  whole  autumn  of  fruits.  The  other  wore  a 
rostral  crown  upon  her  head,  and  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
a  compass. 

I  was  wonderfully  pleased  in  ranging  through  this  de- 
lightful place,  and  the  more  so,  because  it  was  not  en- 
cumbered with  fences  and  enclosures;  until  at  length, 
methought,  I  sprung  from  the  ground,  and  pitched  upon 
the  top  of  a  hill,  that  presented  several  objects  to  my 
sight  which  I  had  not  before  taken  notice  of.  The  winds 
that  passed  over  this  flowery  plain,  and  through  the  tops 
of  the  trees  which  were  in  full  blossom,  blew  upon  me 
in  such  a  continued  breeze  of  sweets,  that  I  was  wonder- 
fully charmed  with  my  situation.  I  here  saw  all  the 
inner  declivities  of  that  great  circuit  of  mountains 
whose  outside  was  covered  with  snow,  overgrown  with 
huge  forests  of  fir-trees,  which  indeed  are  very  fre- 
quently found  in  other  parts  of  the  Alps.  These  trees 
were  inhabited  by  storks,  that  came  thither  in  great 
flights  from  very  far  distant  quarters  of  the  world.  Me- 
thought I  was  pleased  in  my  dream  to  see  what  became 
of  these  birds,  when,  upon  leaving  the  places  to  which 
they  make  an  annual  visit,  they  rise  in  great  flocks  so 
high  until  they  are  out  of  sight,  and  for  that  reason  have 
been  thought  by  some  modern  philosophers  to  take  a  flight 
to  the  moon.  But  my  eyes  were  soon  diverted  from  this 
prospect,  when  I  observed  two  great  gaps  that  led  through 
this  circuit  of  mountains,  where  guards  and  watches  were 
posted  day  and  night.  Upon  examination,  I  found  that 
there  were  two  formidable  enemies  encamped  before  each 
of  these  avenues,  who  kept  the  place  in  a  perpetual  alarm, 
and  watched  all  opportunities  of  invading  it. 

Tyranny  was  at  the  head  of  one  of  these  armies,  dressed 
in  an  Eastern  habit,  and  grasping  in  her  hand  an  iron 


30  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

scepter.  Behind  her  was  Barbarity,  with  the  garb  and 
complexion  of  an  Ethiopian;  Ignorance,  with  a  turban 
upon  her  head;  and  Persecution  holding  up  a  bloody 
flag,  embroidered  with  flower-de-luces.  These  were  fol- 
lowed by  Oppression,  Poverty,  Famine,  Torture,  and  a 
dreadful  train  of  appearances  that  made  me  tremble  to 
behold  them.  Among  the  baggage  of  this  army,  I  could 
discover  racks,  wheels,  chains,  and  gibbets,  with  all  the 
instruments  art  could  invent  to  make  human  nature  mis- 
erable. Before  the  other  avenue  I  saw  Licentiousness, 
dressed  in  a  garment  not  unlike  the  Polish  cassock,  and 
leading  up  a  whole  army  of  monsters,  such  as  Clamor, 
with  a  hoarse  voice  and  an  hundred  tongues;  Confusion, 
with  a  misshapen  body,  and  a  thousand  heads;  Impu- 
dence, with  a  forehead  of  brass;  and  Rapine,  with  hands 
of  iron.  The  tumult,  noise,  and  uproar  in  this  quarter 
were  so  very  great,  that  they  disturbed  my  imagination 
more  than  is  consistent  with  sleep,  and  by  that  means 
awaked  me. 


[The  Tatler  No.  163.    Tuesday,  April  25,  1710. 
Addison.] 

Idem  inficeto  est  inficetior  rure, 

Simul  poemata  attigit;  neque  idem  unquam 

^que  est  beatus,  ac  poema  cum  scribit: 

Tam  gaudet  in  se,  tamque  se  ipse  miratur. 

Nimirum  idem  omnes  fallimur;  neque  est  quisquam 

Quem  non  in  aliqua  re  videre  Suffenum 

Possis  *  — Catul.  de  Suffeno  xx.  14. 

I  yesterday  came  hither  about  two  hours  before  the 
company  generally  make  their  appearance,  with  a  design 
to  read  over  all  the  newspapers;  but,  upon  my  sitting 

1  Suffenus  has  no  more  wit  than  a  mere  clown  when  he  at- 
tempts to  write  verses,  and  yet  he  is  never  happier  than  when 
he  is  scribbling ;  bo  much  does  he  admire  himself  and  his  com- 
positions. And,  indeed,  this  is  the  foible  of  every  one  of  us, 
for  there  is  no  man  living  who  is  not  a  Suflfenus  in  one  thing 
or   other. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  31 

down,  I  "was  accosted  by  Ned  Softly,  who  saw  me  from  a 
corner  in  the  other  end  of  the  room,  where  I  found  he 
had  been  writing  something.  "Mr.  Bickerstaff,"  says  he, 
"I  observe  by  a  late  Paper  of  yours,  that  you  and  I  are 
just  of  a  humor ;  for  you  must  know,  of  all  impertinences, 
there  is  nothing  which  I  so  much  hate  as  news.  I  never 
read  a  Gazette  in  my  life;  and  never  trouble  my  head 
about  our  armies,  whether  they  win  or  lose,  or  in  what 
part  of  the  world  they  lie  encamped."  Without  giving 
me  time  to  reply,  he  drew  a  paper  of  verses  out  of  his 
pocket,  telling  me,  "that  he  had  something  which  would 
entertain  me  more  agreeably;  and  that  he  would  desire 
my  judgment  upon  every  line,  for  that  we  had  time 
enough  before  us  until  the  company  came  in." 

Ned  Softly  is  a  very  pretty  poet,  and  a  great  admirer 
of  easy  lines.  Waller  is  his  favorite:  and  as  that  ad- 
mirable writer  has  the  best  and  worst  verses  of  any  among 
our  great  English  poets,  Ned  Softly,  has  got  all  the  bad 
ones  without  book;  which  he  repeats  upon  occasion,  to 
show  his  reading,  and  garnish  his  conversation.  Ned  is 
indeed  a  true  English  reader,  incapable  of  relishing  the 
great  and  masterly  strokes  of  this  art;  but  wonderfully 
pleased  with  the  little  Gothic  ornaments  of  epigram- 
matical  conceits,  turns,  points,  and  quibbles,  which  are 
so  frequent  in  the  most  admired  of  our  English  poets, 
and  practised  by  those  who  want  genius  and  strength  to 
represent,  after  the  manner  of  the  ancients,  simplicity 
in  its  natural  beauty  and  perfection. 

Finding  myself  unavoidably  engaged  in  such  a  con- 
versation, I  was  resolved  to  turn  my  pain  into  a  pleasure, 
and  to  divert  myseK  as  well  as  I  could  with  so  very  odd 
a  fellow.  "You  must  understand,"  says  Ned,  "that  the 
sonnet  I  am  going  to  read  to  you  was  written  upon  a 
lady,  who  showed  me  some  verses  of  her  own  making, 
and  is,  perhaps,  the  best  poet  of  our  age.  But  you  shall 
hear  it." 

Upon  which  he  began  to  read  as  follows : 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE 
TO  MIRA  ON  HER  INCOMPARABLE  POEMS 


When    dress'd    in   laurel   wreaths   you   shine, 
And  tune  your  soft  melodious  notes, 

You  seem  a  sister  of  the  Nine, 
Or   Phoebus'    self    in    petticoats. 

II 

I  fancy,  when  your  song  you  sing, 

(Your  song  you  sing  with  so  much  art) 

Your  pen  was  plucked  from  Cupid's  wing; 
For,  ah!   it  wounds  me  like  his  dart. 

'Why,"  says  I,  '^this  is  a  little  nosegay  of  conceits,  a 
very  lump  of  salt:  every  verse  has  something  in  it  that 
piques;  and  then  the  dart  in  the  last  line  is  certainly  as 
pretty  a  sting  in  the  tail  of  an  epigram,  for  so  I  think 
you  critics  call  it,  as  ever  entered  into  the  thought  of  a 
poet.''  "Dear  Mr.  Bickerstaff,''  says  he,  shaking  me  by 
the  hand,  "everybody  knows  you  to  be  a  judge  of  these 
things;  and  to  tell  you  truly,  I  read  over  Roscommon's 
translation  of  'Horace's  Art  of  Poetry'  three  several  times, 
before  I  sat  down  to  write  the  sonnet  which  I  have  shown 
you.  But  you  shall  hear  it  again,  and  pray  observe  every 
line  of  it;  for  not  one  of  them  shall  pass  without  your 
approbation. 

When  dress'd  in  laurel  wreaths,  you  shine, 

"That  is,"  says  he,  "when  you  have  your  garland  on; 
when  you  are  writing  verses."  To  which  I  replied,  "I 
know  your  meaning :  a  metaphor !"  "The  same,"  said  he, 
and  went  on. 

"And  tune  your  soft  melodious  notes. 

Pray  observe  the  gliding  of  that  verse;  there  is  scarce 
a  consonant  in  it :  I  took  care  to  make  it  run  upon  liquids. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  33 

Give  me  your  opinion  of  it/'  "Truly,"  said  I,  "I  think 
it  as  good  as  the  former."  "I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you 
say  so,"  says  he;  'T^ut  mind  the  next." 

You  seem  a  sister  of  the  Nine, 

^^That  is,"  says  he,  "you  seem  a  sister  of  the  Muses; 
for,  if  you  look  into  ancient  authors,  you  will  find  it  was 
their  opinion  that  there  were  nine  of  them."  "I  remem- 
ber it  very  well,"  said  I;  "but  pray  proceed." 

"Or  Phoebus'  self  in  petticoats. 

"Phoebus,"  says  he,  "was  the  god  of  poetry.  These  lit- 
tle instances,  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  show  a  gentleman's  read- 
ing. Then,  to  take  off  from  the  air  of  learning,  which 
Phoebus  and  the  Muses  had  given  to  this  first  stanza,  you 
may  observe,  how  it  falls  all  of  a  sudden  into  the  familiar ; 
'in  Petticoats' !" 

"Or  Phoebus'  self  in  petticoats. 

"Let  us  now,"  says  I,  "enter  upon  the  second  stanza; 
I  find  the  first  line  is  still  a  continuation  of  the  meta- 
phor, 

I  fancy,  when  your  song  you  sing." 

"It  is  very  right,"  says  he,  %ut  pray  observe  the  turn 
of  words  in  those  two  lines.  I  was  a  whole  hour  in  ad- 
justing of  them,  and  have  still  a  doubt  upon  me,  whethei* 
in  the  second  line  it  should  be  'Your  song  you  sing;  or^ 
You  sing  your  song  ?'     You  shall  hear  them  both : 

I   fancy,  when   your   song  you   sing, 
(Your  song  you  sing  with  so  much  art) 

OR 

I   fancy,  when   j^our   song   you   sing, 

(You  sing  your  song  with  so  much  art.)" 

"Truly,"  said  I,  "the  turn  is  so  natural  either  way,  that 
you  have  made  me  almost  giddy  with  it."     "Dear  sir/' 


34  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

said  he,  grasping  me  by  the  hand,  ^^you  have  a  great  deal 
of  patience;  but  pray  what  do  you  think  of  the  next 
verse? 

Your  pen  was  pluck'd  from  Cupid's  wing." 

"Think!''  says  I;  "I  think  you  have  made  Cupid  look 
like  a  little  goose/'  "That  was  my  meaning,"  says  he: 
"I  think  the  ridicule  is  well  enough  hit  off.  But  we  come 
now  to  the  last,  which  sums  up  the  whole  matter. 

For,  ah!   it  wounds  me  like  his  dart. 

"Pray  how  do  you  like  that  Ah!  doth  it  not  make  a 

pretty  figure  in  that  place?    Ah! it  looks  as  if  I  felt 

the  dart,  and  cried  out  as  being  pricked  with  it. 

For,  ah!   it  wounds  me  like  his  dart. 

"My  friend  Dick  Easy,"  continued  he,  "assured  me,  he 
would  rather  have  written  that  Ah!  than  to  have  been  the 
author  of  the  .^neid.  He  indeed  objected,  that  I  made 
Mira's  pen  like  a  quill  in  one  of  the  lines,  and  like  a  dart 

in  the  other.     But  as  to  that "    "Oh !  as  to  that,"  says 

I,  "it  is  but  supposing  Cupid  to  be  like  a  porcupine,  and 
his  quills  and  darts  will  be  the  same  thing."  He  was 
going  to  embrace  me  for  the  hint ;  but  half  a  dozen  critics 
coming  into  the  room,  whose  faces  he  did  not  like,  he 
conveyed  the  sonnet  into  his  pocket,  and  whispered  me 
in  the  ear,  "he  would  show  it  me  again  as  soon  as  his 
man  had  written  it  over  fair." 


[The  Tatler  No.  181.    Tuesday,  June  6,  lYlO.    Steele.] 
Dies,  ni  fallor,  adest,  quem  semper  acerbum, 


Semper  honoratum,  sic  dii  voluistis  habebo.^ 

There  are  those  among  mankind,  who  can  enjoy  no  rel- 
ish of  their  being,  except  the  world  is  made  acquainted 

*  And  now  the  rising  day  renews  the  year, 
A  day  for  ever  sad,  for  ever  dear. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  35 

with  all  that  relates  to  them,  and  think  everything  lost 
that  passes  unobserved;  but  others  find  a  solid  delight  in 
stealing  by  the  crowd,  and  modeling  their  life  after  such 
a  manner,  as  is  as  much  above  the  approbation  as  the 
practice  of  the  vulgar.  Life  being  too  short  to  give  in- 
stances great  enough  of  true  friendship  or  good  will, 
some  sages  have  thought  it  pious  to  preserve  a  certain 
reverence  for  the  Manes  of  their  deceased  friends;  and 
have  withdrawn  themselves  from  the  rest  of  the  world  at 
certain  seasons,  to  commemorate  in  their  own  thoughts 
such  of  their  acquaintance  who  have  gone  before  them 
out  of  this  life.  And  indeed,  when  we  are  advanced  in 
years,  there  is  not  a  more  pleasing  entertainment,  than 
to  recollect  in  a  gloomy  moment  the  many  we  have  parted 
with,  that  have  been  dear  and  agreeable  to  us,  and  to  cast 
a  melancholy  thought  or  two  after  those,  with  whom,  per- 
haps, we  have  indulged  ourselves  in  whole  nights  of  mirth 
and  jollity.  With  such  inclinations  in  my  heart  I  went 
to  my  closet  yesterday  in  the  evening,  and  resolved  to  be 
sorrowful;  upon  which  occasion  I  could  not  but  look  with 
disdain  upon  myself,  that  though  all  the  reasons  which 
I  had  to  lament  the  loss  of  many  of  my  friends  are  now 
as  forcible  as  at  the  moment  of  their  departure,  yet  did 
not  my  heart  swell  with  the  same  sorrow  which  I  felt  at 
that  time;  but  I  could,  without  tears,  reflect  upon  many 
pleasing  adventures  I  have  had  with  some,  who  have  long 
been  blended  with  common  earth. 

Though  it  is  by  the  benefit  of  nature,  that  length  of 
time  thus  blots  out  the  violence  of  afflictions;  yet  with 
tempers  too  much  given  to  pleasure,  it  is  almost  neces- 
sary to  revive  the  old  places  of  grief  in  our  memory;  and 
ponder  step  by  step  on  past  life,  to  lead  the  mind  into 
that  sobriety  of  thought  which  poises  the  heart,  and  makes 
it  beat  with  due  time,  without  being  quickened  with  de- 
sire, or  retarded  with  despair,  from  its  proper  and  equal 
motion.  When  we  wind  up  a  clock  that  is  out  of  order^ 
to  make  it  go  well  for  the  future,  we  do  not  immediately 
set  the  hand  to  the  present  instant,  but  we  make  it  strike 


36  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

the  round  of  all  its  hours,  before  it  can  recover  the  regu- 
larity of  its  time.  Such,  thought  I,  shall  be  my  method 
this  evening;  and  since  it  is  that  day  of  the  year  which 
I  dedicate  to  the  memory  of  such  in  another  life  as  I 
much  delighted  in  when  living,  an  hour  or  two  shall  be 
sacred  to  sorrow  and  their  memory,  while  I  run  over  all 
the  melancholy  circumstances  of  this  kind  which  have 
occurred  to  me  in  my  whole  life.  The  first  sense  of  sor- 
row I  ever  knew  was  upon  the  death  of  my  father  at  which 
time  I  was  not  quite  five  years  of  age;  but  was  rather 
amazed  at  what  all  the  house  meant,  than  possessed  with 
a  real  understanding  why  nobody  was  willing  to  play  with 
me.  I  remember  I  went  into  the  room  where  his  body 
lay,  and  my  mother  sat  weeping  alone  by  it.  I  had  my 
battledore  in  my  hand,  and  fell  a-beating  the  coffin,  and 
calling  papa;  for,  I  know  not  how,  I  had  some  slight 
idea  that  he  was  locked  up  there.  My  mother  catched 
me  in  her  arms,  and,  transported  beyond  all  patience  of 
the  silent  grief  she  was  before  in,  she  almost  smothered 
me  in  her  embraces;  and  told  me,  in  a  flood  of  tears, 
"Papa  could  not  hear  me,  and  would  play  with  me  no 
more,  for  they  were  going  to  put  him  under  ground, 
whence  he  could  never  come  to  us  again."  She  was  a 
very  beautiful  woman,  of  a  noble  spirit,  and  there  was  a 
dignity  in  her  grief  amidst  all  the  wildness  of  her  trans- 
port, which,  methought,  struck  me  with  an  instinct  of 
sorrow,  that,  before  I  was  sensible  of  what  it  was  to  grieve, 
seized  my  very  soul,  and  has  made  pity  the  weakness  of 
my  heart  ever  since.  The  mind  in  infancy  is,  methinks, 
like  the  body  in  embryo,  and  receives  impressions  so 
forcible,  that  they  are  as  hard  to  be  removed  by  reason, 
as  any  mark,  with  which  a  child  is  born,  is  to  be  taken 
away  by  any  future  application.  Hence  it  is,  that  good- 
nature in  me  is  no  merit;  but  having  been  so  frequently 
overwhelmed  with  her  tears  before  I  knew  the  cause  of 
any  affliction,  or  could  draw  defenses  from  my  own  judg- 
ment. I  imbibed  commiseration,  remorse,  and  an  un- 
manly gentleness  of  mind,  which  has  since  ensnared  me 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  37 

into  ten  thousand  calamities;  from  whence  I  can  reap 
no  advantage,  except  it  be,  that,  in  such  a  humor  as  I 
am  now  in,  I  can  the  better  indulge  myself  in  the  soft- 
nesses of  humanity,  and  enjoy  that  sweet  anxiety  which 
arises  from  the  memory  of  past  afflictions. 

We,  that  are  very  old,  are  better  able  to  remember 
things  which  befel  us  in  our  distant  youth,  than  the  pas- 
sages of  later  days.  For  this  reason  it  is,  that  the  com- 
panions of  my  strong  and  vigorous  years  present  them- 
selves more  immediately  to  me  in  this  office  of  sorrow. 
Untimely  and  unhappy  deaths  are  what  we  are  most  apt 
to  lament ;  so  little  are  we  able  to  make  it  indifferent  when 
a  thing  happens,  though  we  know  it  must  happen.  Thus 
we  groan  under  life,  and  bewail  those  who  are  relieved 
from  it.  Every  object  that  returns  to  our  imagination 
raises  different  passions,  according  to  the  circumstances 
of  their  departure.  Who  can  have  lived  in  an  army,  and 
in  a  serious  hour  reflect  upon  the  many  gay  and  agreeable 
men  that  might  long  have  flourished  in  the  arts  of  peace, 
and  not  join  with  the  imprecations  of  the  fatherless  and 
widow  on  the  tyrant  to  whose  ambition  they  fell  sacri- 
fices? But  gallant  men,  who  are  cut  off  by  the  sword, 
move  rather  our  veneration  than  our  pity;  and  we  gather 
relief  enough  from  their  own  contempt  of  death,  to  make 
that  no  evil,  which  was  approached  with  so  much  cheer- 
fulness, and  attended  with  so  much  honor.  But  when  we 
turn  our  thoughts  from  the  great  parts  of  life  on  such 
occasions,  and  instead  of  lamenting  those  who  stood  ready 
to  give  death  to  those  from  whom  they  had  the  fortune  to 
receive  it;  I  say,  when  we  let  our  thoughts  wander  from 
such  noble  objects,  and  consider  the  havoc  which  is  made 
among  the  tender  and  the  innocent,  pity  enters  with  an 
unmixed  softness,  and  possesses  all  our  souls  at  once. 

Here  (were  their  words  to  express  such  sentiments  with 
proper  tenderness)  I  should  record  the  beauty,  innocence 
and  untimely  death,  of  the  first  object  my  eyes  ever  be- 
held with  love.  The  beauteous  virgin  I  how  ignorantly  did 
she  charm,  how  carelessly  excel  I     Oh  Death!  thou  hast 


38  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

right  to  the  bold,  to  the  ambitious,  to  the  high,  and  to  the 
haughty ;  but  why  this  cruelty  to  the  humble,  to  the  meek, 
to  the  undiscerning,  to  the  thoughtless?  Nor  age,  nor 
business,  nor  distress,  can  erase  the  dear  image  from  my 
imagination..  In  the  same  week,  I  saw  her  dressed  for 
a  ball,  and  in  a  shroud.  How  ill  did  the  habit  of  death 
become   the  pretty    trifler?     I    stiU    behold   the    smiling 

earth A  large  train  of  disasters  were  coming  on  to 

my  memory,  when  my  servant  knocked  at  my  closet  door, 
and  interrupted  me  with  a  letter,  attended  with  a  hamper 
of  wine,  of  the  same  sort  with  that  which  is  to  be  put  to 
sale,  on  Thursday  next,  at  Garraway's  coffee-house.  Upon 
the  receipt  of  it,  I  sent  for  three  of  my  friends.  We  are 
so  intimate,  that  we  can  be  company  in  whatever  state  of 
mind  we  meet,  and  can  entertain  each  other  without  ex- 
pecting always  to  rejoice.  The  wine  we  found  to  be  gen- 
erous and  warming,  but  with  such  an  heat  as  moved  us 
rather  to  be  cheerful  than  frolicsome.  It  revived  the  spir- 
its, without  firing  the  blood.  We  commended  it  until 
two  of  the  clock  this  morning;  and  having  to-day  met  a 
little  before  dinner,  we  found,  that  though  we  drank  two 
bottles  a  man,  we  had  much  more  reason  to  recollect  than 
forget  what  had  passed  the  night  before. 


[The  Tatler  No.  229.     Tuesday,  September  26,  1710. 
Addison.] 

Quaesitam   meritis   sume   superbiam.^ 

The  whole  creation  preys  upon  itself.  Every  living 
creature  is  inhabited.  A  flea  has  a  thousand  invisible 
insects  that  tease  him  as  he  jumps  from  place  to  place, 
and  revenge  our  quarrels  upon  him.  A  very  ordinary 
microscope  shows  us,  that  a  louse  is  itself  a  very  lousy 

^  With   conscious    pride   

Assume    the    honors   justly   thine. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  8» 

creature.  A  whale,  besides  those  seas  and  oceans  in  the 
several  vessels  of  his  body,  which  are  filled  with  innu- 
merable shoals  of  little  animals,  carries  about  him  a  whole 
world  of  inhabitants;  insomuch  that,  if  we  believe  the 
calculations  some  have  made,  there  are  more  living  crea- 
tures, which  are  too  small  for  the  naked  eye  to  behold, 
about  the  Leviathan,  than  there  are  of  visible  creatures 
upon  the  face  of  the  whole  earth.  Thus  every  noble  crea- 
ture is,  as  it  were,  the  basis  and  support  of  multitudes 
that  are  his  inferiors. 

This  consideration  very  much  comforts  me,  when  I 
think  of  those  numberless  vermin  that  feed  upon  this 
paper,  and  find  their  sustenance  out  of  it;  I  mean  the 
small  wits  and  scribblers,  that  every  day  turn  a  penny  by 
nibbling  at  my  Lucubrations.  This  has  been  so  advan- 
tageous to  this  little  species  of  writers,  that,  if  they  da 
me  justice,  I  may  expect  to  have  my  statue  erected  in 
Grub  Street,  as  being  a  common  benefactor  to  that  quar- 
ter. 

They  say,  when  a  fox  is  very  much  troubled  with  fleas, 
he  goes  into  the  next  pool  with  a  little  lock  of  wool  in  his 
mouth,  and  keeps  his  body  under  water  until  the  vermin 
get  into  it;  after  which  he  quits  the  wool,  and  diving, 
leaves  his  tormentors  to  shift  for  themselves,  and  get  their 
livelihood  where  they  can.  I  would  have  these  gentlemen 
take  care  that  I  do  not  serve  them  after  the  same  man- 
ner; for  though  I  have  hitherto  kept  my  temper  pretty 
well,  it  is  not  impossible  but  I  may  some  time  or  other 
disappear;  and  what  will  then  become  of  them?  Should 
I  lay  down  my  paper,  what  a  famine  would  there  be 
among  the  hawkers,  printers,  booksellers,  and  authors! 
It  would  be  like  Doctor  Burgess's  ^  dropping  his  cloak, 
with  the  whole  congregation  hanging  upon  the  skirts  of 
it.  To  enumerate  some  of  these  my  doughty  antagonists ; 
I  was  threatened  to  be  answered  weekly  Tit  for  Tat;  I 
was   undermined   by  the    Whisperer;    haunted   by    Tom 

^  Daniel  Burgess,  the  doctor  here  aUuded  to,  resided  at  the 
court  of  Hanover  as  secretary  and  reader  to  the  Princess  Sophia. 


40  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Brown's  Ghost;  scolded  at  by  a  Female  Tatler;  and  slan- 
dered by  another  of  the  same  character,  under  the  title 
of  Atalantis.  I  have  been  annotated,  retattled,  examined, 
and  condoled:  but  it  being  my  standing  maxim  never  to 
speak  ill  of  the  dead,  I  shall  let  these  authors  rest  in 
peace;  and  take  great  pleasure  in  thinking,  that  I  have 
sometimes  been  the  means  of  their  getting  a  belly  full. 
When  I  see  myself  thus  surrounded  by  such  formidable 
enemies,  I  often  think  of  the  knight  of  the  Red  Cross  in 
Spenser's  "Men  of  Error,"  who,  after  he  has  cut  off  the 
dragon's  head,  and  left  it  wallowing  in  a  flood  of  ink, 
sees  a  thousand  monstrous  reptiles  making  their  attempts 
upon  him,  one  with  many  heads,  another  with  none,  and 
all  of  them  without  eyes. 

The  same  so  sore  annoyed  has  the  Knight, 
That,  well  nigh  choaked  with  the  deadly  stink. 
His  forces  fail,  he  can  no  longer  fight; 
Whose  courage  when  the  fiend  perceiv'd  to  shrink, 
She  poured  forth  out  of  her  hellish  sink 
Her  fruitful  cursed  spawn  of  serpents  small, 
Deformed  monsters,  foul,  and  black  as  ink; 
Which  swarming  all  about  his  legs  did  crawl. 
And  him  encumbered  sore,  but  could  not  hurt  at  all. 

As  gentle  shepherd  in  sweet  even  tide. 
When  ruddy  Phoebus  'gins  to  welk  in  west, 
High  on  an  hill,  his  flock  to  viewen  wide, 
Marks  which  do  bite  their  hasty  supper  best 
A  cloud  of  cumbrous  gnats  do  him  molest. 
All  striving  to  infix  their  feeble  stings, 
That  from  their  noyance  he  no  where  can  rest 
But  with  his  clownish  hands  their  tender  wings 
He  brusheth  oft,  and  oft  doth  mar  their  murmurings. 

If  ever  I  should  want  such  a  fry  of  little  authors  to 
attend  me,  I  shall  think  my  paper  in  a  very  decaying  con- 
dition. They  are  like  ivy  about  an  oak,  which  adorns 
the  tree  at  the  same  time  that  it  eats  into  it;  or  like  a 
great  man's  equipage,  that  do  honor  to  the  person  on 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  41 

whom  they  feed.  For  my  part,  when  I  see  myself  thus 
attacked,  I  do  not  consider  my  antagonists  as  malicious, 
but  hungry;  and  therefore  am  resolved  never  to  take 
any  notice  of  them. 

As  for  those  who  detract  from  my  labors,  without  be- 
ing prompted  to  it  by  an  empty  stomach;  in  return  to 
their  censures,  I  shall  take  pains  to  excel,  and  never  fail 
to  persuade  myself,  that  their  enmity  is  nothing  but  their 
envy  or  ignorance. 

Give  me  leave  to  conclude,  like  an  old  man,  and  a 
moralist,  with  a  fable. 

The  owls,  bats,  and  several  other  birds  of  the  night, 
were  one  day  got  together  in  a  thick  shade,  where  they 
abused  their  neighbors  in  a  very  sociable  manner.  Their 
satire  at  last  fell  upon  the  sun,  whom  they  all  agreed  to 
be  very  troublesome,  impertinent  and  inquisitive.  Upon 
which,  the  sun,  who  overheard  them,  spoke  to  them  after 
this  manner :  "Gentlemen,  I  wonder  how  you  dare  abuse 
one  that,  you  know,  could  in  an  instant  scorch  you  up, 
and  burn  every  mother's  son  of  you :  but  the  only  answer 
I  shall  give  you,  or  the  revenge  I  shall  take  of  you,  is, 
to  'shine  on.' " 


[The  Tatler  No,  249.    Saturday,  November  11,  1710. 

Addison.] 

Per  varies  casus,  per  tot  discrimina  rerum, 
Tendimus. ^  — Vieg.  -^n.  i.  208. 

I  was  last  night  visited  by  a  friend  of  mine,  who  has 
an  inexhaustible  fund  of  discourse,  and  never  fails  to  en- 
tertain his  company  with  a  variety  of  thoughts  and  hints 
that  are  altogether  new  and  uncommon.  Whether  it 
vvere  in  complaisance  to  my  way  of  living,  or  his  real 
opinion,  he  advanced  the  following  paradox:  that  it  re- 
quired much  greater  talents  to  fill  up  and  become  a  re- 

^  Through   various  hazards,  and  events,   we  move. 


42  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

tired  life  than  a  life  of  business.  Upon  this  occasion  lie 
rallied  very  agreeably  the  busy  men  of  the  age,  who  only 
value  themselves  for  being  in  motion,  and  passing  through 
a  series  of  trifling  and  insignificant  actions.  In  the  heat 
of  his  discourse,  seeing  a  piece  of  money  lying  on  my 
table,  ^T.  defy,'^  says  he,  "any  of  these  active  persons  to 
produce  half  the  adventures  that  this  twelve-penny  piece 
has  been  engaged  in,  were  it  possible  for  him  to  give  us 
an  account  of  his  life.'' 

My  friend's  talk  made  so  odd  an  impression  upon  my 
mind,  that  soon  after  I  was  a-bed  I  fell  insensibly  into 
an  unaccountable  reverie,  that  had  neither  moral  nor  de- 
sign in  it,  and  cannot  be  so  properly  called  a  dream  as  a 
delirium. 

Methought  the  shilling  that  lay  upon  the  table  reared 
itself  upon  its  edge,  and,  turning  the  face  towards  me, 
opened  its  mouth,  and  in  a  soft  silver  sound,  gave  me  the 
following  account  of  his  life  and  adventures: 

"I  was  born,"  says  he,  "on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  near 
a  little  village  of  Peru,  and  made  a  voyage  to  England 
in  an  ingot  under  the  convoy  of  sir  Francis  Drake.  I 
was,  soon  after  my  arrival,  taken  out  of  my  Indian  habit, 
refined,  naturalized,  and  put  into  the  British  mode,  with 
the  face  of  queen  Elizabeth  on  one  side,  and  the  arms  of 
the  country  on  the  other.  Being  thus  equipped,  I  found 
in  me  a  wonderful  inclination  to  ramble,  and  visit  all 
the  parts  of  the  new  world  into  which  I  was  brought. 
The  people  very  much  favored  my  natural  disposition, 
and  shifted  me  so  fast  from  hand  to  hand,  that,  before  I 
was  five  years  old,  I  had  traveled  into  almost  every  cor- 
ner of  the  nation.  But  in  the  beginning  of  my  sixth 
year,  to  my  unspeakable  grief,  I  fell  into  the  hands  of 
a  miserable  old  fellow,  who  clapped  me  into  an  iron  chest, 
where  I  found  five  hundred  more  of  my  own  quality 
who  lay  under  the  same  confinement.  The  only  relief  we 
had,  was  to  be  taken  out  and  counted  over  in  the  fresh 
air  every  morning  and  evening.  After  an  imprisonment 
of   several  years,  we  heard   somebody   knocking   at    our 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  43 

chest,  and  breaking  it  open  with  an  hammer.  This  we 
found  was  the  old  man's  heir,  who,  as  his  father  lay  dying, 
was  so  good  as  to  come  to  our  release.  He  separated  us 
that  very  day.  What  was  the  fate  of  my  companions  I 
know  not:  as  for  myself,  I  was  sent  to  the  apothecary's 
shop  for  a  pint  of  sack.  The  apothecary  gave  me  to  an 
herb-woman,  the  herb-woman  to  a  butcher,  the  butcher  to 
a  brewer,  and  the  brewer  to  his  wife,  who  made  a  present 
of  me  to  a  nonconformist  preacher.  After  this  manner 
I  made  my  way  merrily  through  the  world ;  for,  as  I  told 
you  before,  we  shillings  love  nothing  so  much  as  travel- 
ing. I  sometimes  fetched  in  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  some- 
times a  play-book,  and  often  had  the  satisfaction  to  treat 
a  templer  at  a  twelve-penny  ordinary,  or  carry  him  with 
three  friends  to  Westminster-hall. 

'^In  the  midst  of  this  pleasant  progress  which  I  made 
from  place  to  place,  I  was  arrested  by  a  superstitious  old 
iwoman,  who  shut  me  up  in  a  greasy  purse,  in  pursuance 
of  a  foolish  saying,  Hhat  while  she  kept  a  queen  Eliza- 
beth's shilling  about  her,  she  would  never  be  without 
tQoney.'  I  continued  here  a  close  prisoner  for  many 
taonths,  until  at  last  I  was  exchanged  for  eight-and-forty 
farthings. 

"I  thus  rambled  from  pocket  to  pocket  until  the  begin- 
ning of  the  civil  wars,  when,  to  my  shame  be  it  spoken,  I 
was  employed  in  raising  soldiers  against  the  king:  for, 
being  of  a  very  tempting  breadth,  a  sergeant  made  use  of 
me  to  inveigle  country  fellows,  and  lift  them  into  the 
service  of  the  Parliament. 

"As  soon  as  he  had  made  one  man  sure,  his  way  was, 
to  oblige  him  to  take  a  shilling  of  a  more  homely  figure, 
and  then  practice  the  same*  trick  upon  another.  Thus  I 
continued  doing  great  mischief  to  the  crown,  until  my 
officer  chancing  one  morning  to  walk  abroad  earlier  than 
ordinary,  sacrificed  me  to  his  pleasures,  and  made  use  of 
me  to  seduce  a  milk-maid.  This  wench  bent  me,  and  gave 
me  to  her  sweetheart,  applying  more  properly  than  she 
intended  the  usual  form  of,  *to  my  love  and  from  my 


44  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

love/  This  ungenerous  gallant  marrying  her  within  a 
few  days  after,  pawned  me  for  a  dram  of  brandy;  and 
drinking  me  out  next  day,  I  was  beaten  flat  with  an  ham- 
mer, and  again  set  a-running. 

*^After  many  adventures,  which  it  would  be  tedious  to 
relate,  I  was  sent  to  a  young  spendthrift,  in  company  with 
the  will  of  his  deceased  father.  The  young  fellow,  who  I 
found  was  very  extravagant,  gave  great  demonstrations  of 
joy  at  receiving  the  will ;  but  opening  it,  he  found  himself 
disinherited,  and  cut  off  from  the  possession  of  a  fair  estate 
by  virtue  of  my  being  made  a  present  to  him.  This  put 
him  into  such  a  passion,  that,  after  having  taken  me  in  his 
hand,  and  cursed  me,  he  squirred  me  away  from  him  as  far 
as  he  could  fling  me.  I  chanced  to  light  in  an  unfre- 
quented place  under  a  dead  wall,  where  I  lay  undiscovered 
and  useless  during  the  usurpation  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 

'^About  a  year  after  the  King's  return,  a  poor  cavalier, 
that  was  walking  there  about  dinner-time,  fortunately 
cast  his  eye  upon  me,  and,  to  the  great  joy  of  us  both, 
carried  me  to  a  cook's  shop,  where  he  dined  upon  me,  and 
drank  the  King's  health.  When  I  came  again  into  the 
world,  I  found  that  I  had  been  happier  in  my  retirement 
than  I  thought,  having  probably  by  that  means  escaped 
wearing  a  monstrous  pair  of  breeches. 

"Being  now  of  great  credit  and  antiquity,  I  was  rather 
looked  upon  as  a  medal  than  an  ordinary  coin;  for  which 
reason  a  gamester  laid  hold  of  me,  and  converted  me  to 
a  counter,  having  got  together  some  dozens  of  us  for 
that  use.  We  led  a  melancholy  life  in  his  possession, 
being  busy  at  those  hours  wherein  current  coin  is  at  rest, 
and  partaking  the  fate  of  our  master;  being  in  a  few 
moments  valued  at  a  crown,  a  pound,  or  sixpence,  ac- 
cording to  the  situation  in  which  the  fortune  of  the  cards 
placed  us.  I  had  at  length  the  good  luck  to  see  my  mas- 
ter break,  by  which  means  I  was  again  sent  abroad  under 
my  primitive  denomination  of  a  shilling. 

^T.  shall  pass  over  many  other  accidents  of  less  mo- 
ment, and  hasten  to  that  fatal  catastrophe  when  I  fell 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  45 

into  the  hands  of  an  artist,  who  conveyed  me  under 
ground,  and,  with  an  unmerciful  pair  of  sheers,  cut  off 
my  titles,  clipped  my  brims,  retrenched  my  shape,  rubbed 
me  to  my  inmost  ring;  and,  in  short,  so  spoiled  and  pil- 
laged me,  that  he  did  not  leave  me  worth  a  groat.  You 
may  think  what  confusion  I  was  in  to  see  myself  thus 
curtailed  and  disfigured.  I  should  have  been  ashamed 
to  have  shown  my  head,  had  not  all  my  old  acquaintance 
been  reduced  to  the  same  shameful  figure,  excepting  some 
few  that  were  punched  through  the  belly.  In  the  midst 
of  this  general  calamity,  when  everybody  thought  our 
misfortune  irretrievable,  and  our  case  desperate,  we  were 
thrown  into  the  furnace  together,  and,  as  it  often  happens 
with  cities  rising  out  of  a  fire,  appeared  with  greater 
beauty  and  luster  than  we  could  ever  boast  of  before. 
What  has  happened  to  me  since  this  change  of  sex  which 
you  now  see,  I  shall  take  some  other  opportunity  to  re- 
late. In  the  meantime,  I » shall  only  repeat  two  adven- 
tures, as  being  very  extraordinary,  and  neither  of  them 
having  ever  happened  to  me  above  once  in  my  life.  The 
first  was,  my  being  in  a  poet's  pocket,  who  was  so  taken 
with  the  brightness  and  novelty  of  my  appearance,  that 
it  gave  occasion  to  the  finest  burlesque  poem  in  the  Brit- 
ish language,  entitled,  from  me,  ^The  Splendid  Shilling.' 
The  second  adventure,  which  I  must  not  omit,  happened 
to  me  in  the  year  1703,  when  I  was  given  away  in  charity 
to  a  blind  man;  but  indeed  this  was  by  mistake,  the  per- 
son who  gave  me  having  thrown  me  heedlessly  into  the 
hat  among  a  pennyworth  of  farthings." 


[The  Tatler  No.  271.     Tuesday,  January  2,  1710. 
Steele.]  ^ 

The  printer  having  informed  me,  that  there  are  as 
many  of  these  papers  printed  as  will  make  four  volumes, 
I  am  now  come  to  the  end  of  my  ambition  in  this  matter, 

*  "Steele's  last  *Tatler*  came  out  to-day.  You  will  see  it  before 
this   comes   to   you,   and   how   he   takes   leave    of   the    world.     He 


46  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

and  have  nothing  farther  to  say  to  the  world  under  the 
character  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff.  This  work  has  indeed  for 
some  time  been  disagreeable  to  me,  and  the  purpose  of  it 
wholly  lost  by  my  being  so  long  understood  as  the  au- 
thor. I  never  designed  in  it  to  give  any  man  any  secret 
wound  by  my  concealment,  but  spoke  in  the  character  of 
an  old  man,  a  philosopher,  an  humorist,  an  astrologer, 
and  a  Censor,  to  allure  my  reader  with  the  variety  of  my 
subjects,  and  insinuate,  if  I  could,  the  weight  of  reason 
with  the  agreeableness  of  wit.  The  general  purpose  of 
the  whole  has  been  to  recommend  truth,  innocence,  honor, 
and  virtue,  as  the  chief  ornaments  of  life;  but  I  consid- 
ered, that  severity  of  manners  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  him  who  would  censure  others,  and  for  that  reason,  and 
that  only,  chose  to  talk  in  a  mask.  I  shall  not  carry  my 
humility  so  far  as  to  call  myself  a  vicious  man,  but  at 
the  same  time  must  confess,  my  life  is  at  best  but  par- 
donable. And,  with  no  greater  character  than  this,  a 
man  would  make  but  an  indifferent  progress  in  attack^ 
ing  prevailing  and  fashionable  vices,  which  Mr.  Bicker-- 
staff  has  done  with  a  freedom  of  spirit,  that  would  have 
lost  both  its  beauty  and  efficacy,  had  it  been  pretended  to 
by  Mr.  Steele. 

As  to  the  work  itself,  the  acceptance  it  has  met  with  is 
the  best  proof  of  its  value;  but  I  should  err  against  that 
candor,  which  an  honest  man  should  always  carry  about 
him,  if  I  did  not  own,  that  the  most  approved  pieces  in 
it  were  written  by  others,  and  those  which  have  been  most 
excepted  against,  by  myself.  The  hand  that  has  assisted 
me  in  those  noble  discourses  upon  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  the  glorious  prospects  of  another  life,  and  the  most 
sublime  ideas  of  religion  and  virtue,  is  a  person  who  is 
too  fondly  my  friend  ever  to  own  them;  but  I  should 

never  told  so  much  as  Addison  of  it,  who  was  surprized  as  much 
as  I ;  but,  to  say  the  truth,  it  was  time,  for  he  grew  cruel  dull 
and  dry.  To  my  knowledge  he  had  several  good  hints  to  go 
upon  ;  but  he  was  so  lazy  and  weary  of  the  work,  that  he  would 
not  improve  them.*' — Swift  to  Mrs.  Johnson. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  47 

little  deserve  to  be  his,  if  I  usurped  the  glory  of  them.^ 
I  must  acknowledge  at  the  same  time,  that  I  think  the 
finest  strokes  of  wit  and  humor  in  all  Mr.  Bickerstaff's  Lu- 
cubrations, are  those  for  which  he  also  is  beholden  to  him. 

As  for  the  satirical  part  of  these  writings,  those  against 
the  gentlemen  who  profess  gaming  are  the  most  licen- 
tious; but  the  main  of  them  I  take  to  come  from  losing 
gamesters,  as  invectives  against  the  fortunate;  for  in 
very  many  of  them  I  was  very  little  else  but  the 
transcriber.  If  any  have  been  more  particularly  marked 
at,  such  persons  may  impute  it  to  their  own  behavior, 
before  they  were  touched  upon,  in  publicly  speaking  their 
resentment  against  the  author,  and  professing  they  would 
support  any  man  who  should  insult  him.  When  I  men- 
tion this  subject,  I  hope  major  general  Davenport,  briga- 
dier Bisset,  and  my  Lord  Forbes,  will  accept  of  my 
thanks  for  their  frequent  good  offices,  in  professing  their 
readiness  to  partake  any  danger  that  should  befall  me 
in  so  just  an  undertaking,  as  the  endeavor  to  banish  fraud 
and  cozenage  from  the  presence  and  conversation  of 
gentlemen. 

But  what  I  find  is  the  least  excusable  part  of  aU  this 
work  is,  that  I  have,  in  some  places  in  it,  touched  upon 
matters  whicli  concern  both  Church  and  State.  All  I 
shall  say  for  this  is,  that  the  points  I  alluded  to,  are  such 
as  concerned  every  Christian  and  freeholder  in  England; 
and  I  could  not  be  cold  enough  to  conceal  my  opinion  on 
subjects  which  related  to  either  of  those  characters.  But 
politics  apart. 

I  must  confess  it  has  been  a  most  exquisite  pleasure 
to  me  to  frame  characters  of  domestic  life,  and  put  those 
parts  of  it  which  are  least  observed  into  an  agreeable  view ; 
to  inquire  into  the  seeds  of  vanity  and  affectation,  to  lay 
before  the  readers  the  emptiness  of  ambition:  in  a  word, 
to  trace  human  life  through  all  its  mazes  and  recesses, 
and  show  much  shorter  methods  than  men  ordinarily  prac- 
tice, to  be  happy,  agreeable,  and  great. 

*  Addison  was  the  assistant  here  alluded  to. 


48  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

But  to  inquire  into  men's  faults  and  weaknesses  has 
something  in  it  so  unwelcome,  that  I  have  often  seen 
people  in  pain  to  act  before  me,  whose  modesty  only 
makes  them  think  themselves  liable  to  censure.  This, 
and  a  thousand  other  nameless  things,  have  made  it  an 
irksome  task  to  me  to  personate  Mr.  Bickerstaff  any 
longer;  and  I  believe  it  does  not  often  happen,  that  the 
reader  is  delighted  where  the  author  is  displeased. 

All  I  can  now  do  for  the  farther  gratification  of  the 
town,  is  to  give  them  a  faithful  explication  of  passages 
and  allusions,  and  sometimes  of  persons  intended  in  the 
several  scattered  parts  of  the  work.  At  the  same  time,  I 
shall  discover  which  of  the  whole  have  been  written  by 
me,  and  which  by  others,  and  by  whom,  as  far  as  I  am 
ahle,  or  permitted. 

Thus  I  have  voluntarily  done,  what  I  think  all  authors 
should  do  when  called  upon.  I  have  published  my  name 
to  my  writings,  and  given  myself  up  to  the  mercy  of  the 
town,  as  Shakespeare  expresses  it,  ^^with  all  my  imper- 
fections on  my  head."  The  indulgent  reader's  most 
obliged,  most  obedient,  humble  servant, 

EiCHARD  Steele. 


[Spectator  No.  1.    Thursday,  March  1,  1711.    Addison.] 

Non   fumum  ex   fulgore,    sed  ex   fumo   dare   lucem 
Cogitat,   ut  speciosa   dehinc  miracula  promat. 

— Horace 
["One  with  a  flash  begins,  and  ends  in  smoke; 
Another  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  till  he  knows  whether  the  writer  of  it  be 
a  black  or  a  fair  man,  of  a  mild  or  choleric  disposition, 
married  or  a  bachelor,  with  other  particulars  of  the  like 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  49 

nature  that  conduce  very  mucli  to  the  right  understanding 
of  an  author.  To  gratify  this  curiosity,  which  is  so  nat- 
ural to  a  reader,  I  design  this  paper  and  my  next  as 
prefatory  discourses  to  my  following  writings,  and  shall 
give  some  account  in  them  of  the  several  persons  that  are 
engaged  in  this  work.  As  the  chief  trouble  of  compiling, 
digesting,  and  correcting  will  fall  to  my  share,  I  must 
do  myseK  the  justice  to  open  the  work  with  my  own  his- 
tory. I  was  born  to  a  small  hereditary  estate,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  tradition  of  the  village  where  it  lies,  was 
bounded  by  the  same  hedges  and  ditches  in  William  the 
Conqueror's  time  that  it  is  at  present,  and  has  been  de- 
livered down  from  father  to  son  whole  and  entire,  without 
the  loss  or  acquisition  of  a  single  field  or  meadow,  during 
the  space  of  six  hundred  years.  There  runs  a  story  in  the 
family,  that  my  mother  dreamed  that  she  was  brought  to 
bed  of  a  judge:  whether  this  might  proceed  from  a  law- 
suit which  was  then  depending  in  the  family,  or  my 
father's  being  a  justice  of  the  peace,  I  cannot  determine; 
for  I  am  not  so  vain  as  to  think  it  presaged  any  dignity 
that  I  should  arrive  at  in  my  future  life,  though  that 
was  the  interpretation  which  the  neighborhood  put  upon 
it.  The  gravity  of  my  behavior  at  my  very  first  appear- 
ance in  the  world  seemed  to  favor  my  mother's  dream: 
for,  as  she  has  often  told  me>  I  threw  away  my  rattle 
before  I  was  two  months  old,  and  would  not  make  use 
of  my  coral  till  they  had  taken  away  the  bells  from  it. 
As  for  the  rest  of  my  infancy,  there  being  nothing  in 
it  remarkable,  I  shall  pass  it  over  in  silence.  I  find  that, 
during  my  nonage,  I  had  the  reputation  of  a  very  sullen 
youth,  but  was  always  a  favorite  of  my  schoolmaster,  who 
used  to  say  that  my  parts  were  solid  and  would  wear  well. 
I  had  not  been  long  at  ^  the  University  before  I  distin- 
guished myself  by  a  most  profound  silence;  for  during 
the  space  of  eight  years,  excepting  in  the  public  exer- 
cises of  the  college,  I  scarce  uttered  the  quantity  of  an 
hundred  words;  and  indeed  do  not  remember  that  I  ever 
spoke  three  sentences  together  in  my  whole  life.     Whilst 


60  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

I  was  in  this  learned  body,  I  applied  myself  with  so  much 
diligence  to  my  studies  that  there  are  very  few  celebrated 
books,  either  in  the  learned  or  the  modern  tongues,  which 
I  am  not  acquainted  with. 

Upon  the  death  of  my  father  I  was  resolved  to  travel 
into  foreign  countries,  and  therefore  left  the  University 
with  the  character  of  an  odd,  unaccountable  fellow,  that 
had  a  great  deal  of  learning  if  I  would  but  show  it.  An 
insatiable  thirst  after  knowledge  carried  me  into  all  the 
countries  of  Europe  in  which  there  was  anything  new  or 
strange  to  be  seen ;  nay,  to  such  a  degree  was  my  curiosity 
raised,  that  having  read  the  controversies  of  some  great 
men  concerning  the  antiquities  of  Egypt,  I  made  a  voyage 
to  Grand  Cairo,  on  purpose  to  take  the  measure  of  a 
pyramid;  and  as  soon  as  I  had  set  myself  right  in  that 
particular,  returned  to  my  native  country  with  great  satis- 
faction. 

I  have  passed  my  latter  years  in  this  city,  where  I  am 
frequently  seen  in  most  public  places,  though  there  are 
not  above  half  a  dozen  of  my  select  friends  that  know 
me;  of  whom  my  next  paper  shall  give  a  more  particular 
account.  There  is  no  place  of  general  sort  wherein  I  do 
not  often  make  my  appearance;  sometimes  I  am  seen 
thrusting  my  head  into  a  round  of  politicians  at  Will's, 
and  listening  with  great  attention  to  the  narratives  that 
are  made  in  those  little  circular  audiences.  Sometimes  I 
smoke  a  pipe  at  Child's,  and  whilst  I  seem  attentive  to 
nothing  but  The  Postman,  overhear  the  conversation  of 
every  table  in  the  room.  I  appear  on  Sunday  nights  at 
St.  James's  Coffee-house,  and  sometimes  join  the  little 
committee  of  politics  in  the  Inner  room,  as  one  who 
comes  there  to  hear  and  improve.  My  face  is  likewise 
very  well  known  at  the  Grecian,  the  Cocoa-Tree,  and  in 
the  theaters  both  of  Drury  Lane  and  the  Hay-Market. 
I  have  been  taken  for  a  merchant  upon  the  Exchange  for 
above  these  ten  years,  and  sometimes  pass  for  a  Jew  in 
the  assembly  of  stock-jobbers  at  Jonathan's.  In  short, 
wherever  I  see  a  cluster  of  people,  I  always  mix  with 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  61 

them,  though  I  never  open  my  lips  but  in  my  own  club. 

Thus  I  live  in  the  world  rather  as  a  Spectator  of  man- 
kind than  as  one  of  the  species;  by  which  means  I  have 
made  myself  a  speculative  statesman,  soldier,  merchant, 
and  artisan,  without  ever  meddling  with  any  practical 
part  in  life.  I  am  very  well  versed  in  the  theory  of  an 
husband  or  a  father,  and  can  discern  the  errors  in  the 
economy,  business,  and  diversion  of  others  better  than 
those  who  are  engaged  in  them;  as  standers-by  discover 
blots  which  are  apt  to  escape  those  who  are  in  the  game. 
I  never  espoused  any  party  with  violence,  and  am  resolved 
to  observe  an  exact  neutrality  between  the  Whigs  and 
Tories,  unless  I  shall  be  forced  to  declare  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  the  char- 
acter I  intend  to  preserve  in  this  paper. 

I  have  given  the  reader  just  so  much  of  my  history  and 
character  as  to  let  him  see  I  am  not  altogether  unqualified 
for  the  business  I  have  undertaken.  As  for  other  par- 
ticulars in  my  life  and  adventures,  I  shall  insert  them  in 
following  papers  as  I  shall  see  occasion.  In  the  mean- 
time, when  I  consider  how  much  I  have  seen,  read,  and 
heard,  I  began  to  blame  my  own  taciturnity:  and  since 
I  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  communicate  the 
fulness  of  my  heart  in  speech,  I  am  resolved  to  do  it  in 
writing,  and  to  print  myself  out,  if  possible,  before  I  die. 
I  have  been  often  told  by  my  friends  that  it  is  a  pity  so 
many  useful  discoveries  which  I  have  made,  should  be  in 
the  possession  of  a  silent  man.  For  this  reason,  therefore, 
I  shall  publish  a  sheetful  of  thoughts  every  morning  for 
the  benefit  of  my  contemporaries;  and  if  I  can  in  any 
way  contribute  to  the  diversion  or  improvement  of  the 
country  in  which  I  live,  I  shall  leave  it,  when  I  am  sum- 
moned out  of  it,  with  the  secret  satisfaction  of  thinking 
that  I  have  not  lived  in  vain. 

There  are  three  very  material  points  which  I  have  not 
spoken  to  in  this  paper,  and  which,  for  several  important 
reasons,  I  must  keep  to  myself,  at  least  for  some  time:  I 


,52  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

mean,  an  account  of  my  name,  my  age,  and  my  lodgings. 
I  must  confess,  I  would  gratify  my  reader  in  anything 
tTiat  is  reasonable;  but,  as  for  tbese  three  particulars, 
though  I  am  sensible  they  might  tend  very  much  to  the 
embellishment  of  my  paper,  I  cannot  yet  come  to  a  reso- 
lution of  communicating  them  to  the  public.  They  would 
indeed  draw  me  out  of  that  obscurity  which  I  have  en- 
joyed for  many  years,  and  expose  me  in  public  places 
to  several  salutes  and  civilities  which  have  been  always 
very  disagreeable  to  me;  for  the  greatest  pain  I  can  suffer 
is  the  being  talked  to  and  being  stared  at.  It  is  for  this 
reason,  likewise,  that  I  keep  my  complexion  and  dress 
as  very  great  secrets,  though  it  is  not  impossible  but  I 
may  make  discoveries  of  both  in  the  progress  of  the  work 
I  have  undertaken. 

After  having  been  thus  particular  upon  myself,  I  shall 
in  to-morrow's  paper  give  an  account  of  those  gentlemen 
who  are  concerned  with  me  in  this  work;  for,  as  I  have 
before  intimated,  a  plan  of  it  is  laid  and  concerted  (as 
all  other  matters  of  importance  are)  in  a  club.  How- 
ever, as  my  friends  have  engaged  me  to  stand  in  the 
front,  those  who  have  a  mind  to  correspond  with  me  may 
direct  their  letters  To  the  Spectator,  at  Mr,  Buckley's,  in 
Little  Britain.  For  I  must  further  acquaint  the  reader 
that,  though  our  club  meets  only  on  Tuesdays  and  Thurs- 
days, we  have  appointed  a  committee  to  sit  every  night, 
for  the  inspection  of  all  such  papers  as  may  contribute 
to  the  advancement  of  the  public  weal.  C. 

[Spectator  No.  2.     FRroAY,  March  2,  1711.     Steele.] 

^Ast  alii  sex, 

Et  plures,  uno  conclamant  ore.^ 

— Juvenal. 

The  first  of  our  society  is  a  gentleman  of  Worcester- 
shire, of  ancient  descent,  a  baronet,  his  name  Sir  Roger 

^  "Six    more    at    least    join    their    consenting    voice." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  63 

de  Coverley.  His  great-grandfather  was  inventor  of  that 
famous  country-dance  which  is  called  after  him.  All  who 
know  that  shire  are  very  well  acquainted  with  the  parts 
and  merits  of  Sir  Eoger.  He  is  a  gentleman  that  is  very 
singular  in  his  behavior,  but  his  singularities  proceed 
from  his  good  sense,  and  are  contradictions  to  the  man- 
ners of  the  world  only  as  he  thinks  the  world  is  in  the 
wrong.  However,  this  humor  creates  him  no  enemies,  for 
he  does  nothing  with  sourness  of  obstinacy;  and  his  being 
unconfined  to  modes  and  forms,  makes  him  but  the  readier 
and  more  capable  to  please  and  oblige  all  who  know  him. 
When  he  is  in  town,  he  lives  in  Soho  Square.  It  is  said 
he  keeps  himself  a  bachelor  by  reason  he  was  crossed  in 
love  by  a  perverse,  beautiful  widow  of  the  next  county  to 
him.  Before  this  disappointment.  Sir  Eoger  was  what 
you  call  a  fine  gentleman,  had  often  supped  with  my  Lord 
Eochester  and  Sir  George  Etherege,  fought  a  duel  upon 
his  first  coming  to  town,  and  kicked  Bully  Dawson  in  a 
public  coffee-house  for  calling  him  "youngster."  But 
being  ill-used  by  the  above-mentioned  widow,  he  was  very 
serious  for  a  year  and  a  half;  and  though,  his  temper 
being  naturally  jovial,  he  at  last  got  over  it,  he  grew  care- 
less of  himseK,  and  never  dressed  afterward.  He  con- 
tinues to  wear  a  coat  and  doublet  of  the  same  cut  that 
were  in  fashion  at  the  time  of  his  repulse,  which,  in  his 
merry  humors,  he  tells  us,  has  been  in  and  out  twelve 
times  since  he  first  wore  it.  'Tis  said  Sir  Eoger  grew 
humble  in  his  desires  after  he  had  forgot  this  cruel 
beauty;  but  this  is  looked  upon  by  his  friends  rather  as 
matter  of  raillery  than  truth.  He  is  now  in  his  fifty-sixth 
year,  cheerful,  gay,  and  hearty;  keeps  a  good  house  in 
both  town  and  country;  a  great  lover  of  mankind;  but 
there  is  such  a  mirthful  cast  in  his  behavior  that  he  is 
rather  beloved  than  esteemed.  His  tenants  grow  rich, 
his  servants  look  satisfied,  all  the  young  women  profess 
love  to  him,  and  the  young  men  are  glad  of  his  company ; 
when  he  comes  into  a  house  he  calls  the  servants  by  their 
names,  and  talks  all  the  way  up  stairs  to  a  visit.     I  must 


64  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

not  omit  that  Sir  Eoger  is  a  justice  of  the  quorum;  that 
he  fills  the  chair  at  a  quarter-session  with  great  abilities; 
and,  three  months  ago,  gained  universal  applause  by  ex- 
plaining a  passage  in  the  Game  Act. 

The  gentleman  next  in  esteem  and  authority  among  us 
is  another  bachelor,  who  is  a  member  of  the  Inner  Temple ; 
a  man  of  great  probity,  wit,  and  understanding;  but  he 
has  chosen  his  place  of  residence  rather  to  obey  the  direct- 
tion  of  an  old  humorsome  father,  than  in  pursuit  of  his 
own  inclinations.  He  was  placed  there  to  study  the  laws 
of  the  land,  and  is  the  most  learned  of  any  of  the  house  in 
those  of  the  stage.  Aristotle  and  Longinus  are  much 
better  understood  by  him  than  Littleton  or  Coke.  The 
father  sends  up,  every  post,  questions  relating  to  marriage- 
articles,  leases,  and  tenures,  in  the  neighborhood;  all 
which  questions  he  agrees  with  an  attorney  to  apswer 
and  take  care  of  in  the  lump.  He  is  studying  the  pas- 
sions themselves,  when  he  should  be  inquiring  into  the 
debates  among  men  which  arise  from  them.  He  knows 
the  argument  of  each  of  the  orations  of  Demosthenes  and 
Tully,  but  not  one  case  in  the  reports  of  our  own  courts. 
No  one  ever  took  him  for  a  fool,  but  none,  except  his 
intimate  friends,  know  he  has  a  great  deal  of  wit.  This 
turn  makes  him  at  once  both  disinterested  and  agreeable; 
as  few  of  his  thoughts  are  drawn  from  business,  they  are 
most  of  them  fit  for  conversation.  His  taste  of  books  is 
a  little  too  just  for  the  age  he  lives  in;  he  has  read  all, 
but  approves  of  very  few.  His  familiarity  with  the  cus- 
toms, manners,  actions,  and  writings  of  the  ancients 
makes  him  a  very  delicate  observer  of  what  occurs  to  him 
in  tlie  present  world.  He  is  an  excellent  critic,  and  the 
time  of  the  play  is  his  hour  of  business;  exactly  at  five 
he  passes  through  New  Inn,  crosses  through  Kussell  Court, 
and  takes  a  turn  at  Will's  till  the  play  begins;  he  has 
his  shoes  rubbed  and  his  periwig  powdered  at  the  barber's 
as  you  go  into  the  Eose.  It  is  for  the  good  of  the  audi- 
ence when  he  is  at  a  play,  for  the  actors  have  an  ambi- 
tion to  please  him. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  55 

The  person  of  next  consideration  is  Sir  Andrew  Free- 
port,  a  merchant  of  great  eminence  in  the  city  of  London, 
a  person  of  indefatigable  industry,  strong  reason,  and 
great  experience.  His  notions  of  trade  are  noble  and 
generous,  and  (as  every  rich  man  has  usually  some  sly 
way  of  jesting  which  would  make  no  great  figure  were 
he  not  a  rich  man)  he  calls  the  sea  the  British  Common. 
He  is  acquainted  with  commerce  in  all  its  parts,  and 
will  tell  you  that  it  is  a  stupid  and  barbarous  way  to  ex- 
tend dominion  by  arms;  for  true  power  is  to  be  got  by 
arts  and  industry.  He  will  often  argue  that  if  this  part 
of  our  trade  were  well  cultivated,  we  should  gain  from 
one  nation;  and  if  another,  from  another.  I  have  heard 
him  prove  that  diligence  makes  more  lasting  acquisitions 
than  valor,  and  that  sloth  has  ruined  more  nations  than 
the  sword.  He  abounds  in  several  frugal  maxims,  among 
which  the  greatest  favorite  is,  "A  penny  saved  is  a  penny 
got."  A  general  trader  of  good  sense  is  pleasanter  com- 
pany than  a  general  scholar;  and  Sir  Andrew  having  a 
natural  unaffected  eloquence,  the  perspicuity  of  his  dis- 
course gives  the  same  pleasure  that  wit  would  in  another 
man.  He  has  made  his  fortunes  himself,  and  says  that 
England  may  be  richer  than  other  kingdoms  by  as  plain 
methods  as  he  himself  is  richer  than  other  men ;  though  at 
the  same  time  I  can  say  this  of  him,  that  there  is  not  a 
point  in  the  compass  but  blows  home  a  ship  in  which  he 
is  an  owner. 

Next  to  Sir  Andrew  in  the  club-room  sits  Captain 
Sentry,  a  gentleman  of  great  courage,  good  understanding, 
but  invincible  modesty.  He  is  one  of  those  that  deserve 
very  well,  but  are  very  awkward  at  putting  their  talents 
within  the  observation  of  such  as  should  take  notice  of 
them.  He  was  some  years  a  captain,  and  behaved  him- 
self with  great  gallantry  in  several  engagements  and  at 
several  sieges;  but  having  a  small  estate  of  his  own,  and 
being  next  heir  to  Sir  Eoger,  he  has  quitted  a  way  of  life 
in  which  no  man  can  rise  suitably  to  his  merit  who  is 
not  something  of  a  courtier  as  well  as  a  soldier.    I  have 


66  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

heard  him  often  lament  that  in  a  profession  where  merit 
is  placed  in  so  conspicuous  a  view,  impudence  should  get 
the  better  of  modesty.  When  he  has  talked  to  this  pur- 
pose I  never  heard  him  make  a  sour  expression,  but 
frankly  confess  that  he  left  the  world  because  he  was  not 
fit  for  it.  A  strict  honesty  and  an  even,  regular  behavior 
are  in  themselves  obstacles  to  him  that  must  press  through 
crowds  who  endeavor  at  the  same  end  with  himself, — 
the  favor  of  a  commander.  He  will,  however,  in  this  way 
of  talk,  excuse  generals  for  not  disposing  according  to 
men's  desert,  or  inquiring  into  it,  "For,''  says  he,  ^^that 
great  man  who  has  a  mind  to  help  me,  has  as  many  to 
break  through  to  come  at  me  as  I  have  to  come  at  him" ; 
therefore  he  will  conclude  that  the  man  who  would  make 
a  figure,  especially  in  a  military  way,  must  get  over  all 
false  modesty,  and  assist  his  patron  against  the  importun- 
ity of  other  pretenders  by  a  proper  assurance  in  his  own 
vindication.  He  says  it  is  a  civil  cowardice  to  be  back- 
ward in  asserting  what  you  ought  to  expect,  as  it  is  a 
military  fear  to  be  slow  in  attacking  when  it  is  your 
duty.  With  this  candor  does  the  gentleman  speak  of 
himself  and  others.  The  same  frankness  runs  through 
all  his  conversation.  The  military  part  of  his  life  has 
furnished  him  with  many  adventures,  in  the  relation  of 
which  he  is  very  agreeable  to  the  company;  for  he  is 
never  overbearing,  though  accustomed  to  command  men 
in  the  utmost  degree  below  him;  nor  ever  too  obsequious 
from  an  habit  of  obeying  men  highly  above  him. 

But  that  our  society  may  not  appear  a  set  of  humor- 
ists unacquainted  with  the  gallantries  and  pleasures  of 
the  age,  we  have  among  us  the  gallant  Will  Honeycomb, 
a  gentleman  who,  according  to  his  years,  should  be  in  the 
decline  of  his  life,  but  having  ever  been  very  careful  of 
his  person,  and  always  had  a  very  easy  fortune,  time  has 
made  but  very  little  impression  either  by  wrinkles  on  his 
forehead  or  traces  in  his  brain.  His  person  is  well  turned 
and  of  a  good  height.  He  is  very  ready  at  that  sort  of 
discourse  with  which  men  usually  entertain  women.    He 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  67 

has  all  his  life  dressed  very  well,  and  remembers  habits 
as  others  do  men.  He  can  smile  when  one  speaks  to 
him,  and  laughs  easily.  He  knows  the  history  of  every 
mode,  and  can  inform  you  from  which  of  the  French  king's 
wenches  our  wives  and  daughters  had  this  manner  of  curl- 
ing their  hair,  that  way  of  placing  their  hoods;  whose 
frailty  was  covered  by  such  a  sort  of  petticoat,  and  whose 
vanity  to  show  her  foot  made  that  part  of  the  dress  so 
short  in  such  a  year.  In  a  word,  all  his  conversation  and 
knowledge  has  been  in  the  female  world.  As  other  men 
of  his  age  will  take  notice  to  you  what  such  a  minister 
said  upon  such  and  such  an  occasion,  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  of  his  troop  in  the  Park.  In  all  these  important 
relations,  he  has  ever  about  the  same  time  received  a  kind 
glance  or  a  blow  of  a  fan  from  some  celebrated  beauty, 
mother  of  the  present  Lord  Such-a-one.  If  you  speak 
of  a  young  commoner  that  said  a  lively  thing  in  the 
House,  he  starts  up:  "He  has  good  blood  in  his  veins; 
Tom  Mirabell,  the  rogue,  cheated  me  in  that  affair;  that 
young  fellow's  mother  used  me  more  like  a  dog  than  any 
woman  I  ever  made  advances  to."  This  way  of  talking 
of  his  very  much  enlivens  the  conversation  among  us  of  a 
more  sedate  turn;  and  I  find  there  is  not  one  of  the  com- 
pany but  myself,  who  rarely  speak  at  all,  but  speaks  of 
him  as  of  that  sort  of  man  who  is  usually  called  a  well- 
bred,  fine  gentleman.  To  conclude  his  character,  where 
women  are  not  concerned,  he  is  an  honest,  worthy  man. 
I  cannot  tell  whether  I  am  to  account  him  whom  I  am 
next  to  speak  of  as  one  of  our  company,  for  he  visits  us 
but  seldom;  but  when  he  does,  it  adds  to  every  man  else 
a  new  enjoyment  of  himself.  He  is  a  clergyman,  a  very 
philosophic  man,  of  general  learning,  great  sanctity  of 
life,  and  the  most  exact  good  breeding.  He  has  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  of  a  very  weak  constitution,  and  conse- 
quently cannot  accept  of  such  cares  and  business  as 
preferments  in  his  function  would  oblige  him  to;  he  is 


68  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

therefore  among  divines  what  a  chamber-counselor  is 
among  lawyers.  The  probity  of  his  mind  and  the  integ- 
rity of  his  life  create  him  followers,  as  being  eloquent 
or  loud  advances  others.  He  seldom  introduces  the  sub- 
ject he  speaks  upon;  but  we  are  so  far  gone  in  years 
that  he  observes,  when  he  is  among  us,  an  earnestness 
to  have  him  fall  on  some  divine  topic,  which  he  always 
treats  with  much  authority,  as  one  who  has  no  interest 
in  this  world,  as  one  who  is  hastening  to  the  object  of 
all  his  wishes  and  conceives  hope  from  his  decays  and 
infirmities.     These  are  my  ordinary  companions.  K. 

[Spectator  No.  3.    Saturday,  March  3,  lYll.    Addison.] 

Quoi  quisque  fere  studio  devinctus  adhwret: 
Aut  quihus  in  rehus  multum  sumua  ante  morati; 
At  que  in  qua  ratione  fuit  contenta  magis  mens; 
In  s<yrmUs  eadem  plerumque  videmur  ohire} 

— ^LucR.  L.  iv. 

In  one  of  my  late  rambles,  or  rather  speculations,  I 
looked  into  the  great  hall  where  the  Bank  is  kept,  and 
was  not  a  little  pleased  to  see  the  directors,  secretaries 
and  clerks,  with  all  the  other  members  of  that  wealthy 
corporation,  ranged  in  their  several  stations,  according 
to  the  parts  they  act  in  that  just  and  regular  economy. 
This  revived  in  my  memory  the  many  discourses  which  I 
had  both  read  and  heard  concerning  the  decay  of  public 
credit,  with  the  methods  of  restoring  it,  and  which,  in 
my  opinion,  have  always  been  defective,  because  they  have 
always  been  made  with  an  eye  to  separate  interests,  and 
party-principles. 

The  thoughts  of  the  day  gave  my  mind  employment 
for  the  whole  night,  so  that  I  fell  insensibly  into  a  kind 
of  methodical  dream,  which  disposed  all  my  contempla- 
tions into  a  vision  or  allegory,  or  what  else  the  reader 
shall  please  to  call  it. 

Methoughts  I  returned  to  the  great  hall,  where  I  had 

^  What  stories  please,  what  most  delight, 

And  fill  men's  thoughts,  they  dream  them  o*er  at  night. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  69 

been  the  morning  before,  but,  to  my  surprise,  instead  of 
the  company  that  I  left  there,  I  saw  toward  the  upper 
end  of  the  hall  a  beautiful  virgin,  seated  on  a  throne  of 
gold.  Her  name  (as  they  told  me)  was  Public  Credit. 
The  walls,  instead  of  being  adorned  with  pictures  and 
maps,  were  hung  with  many  acts  of  parliament  written 
in  golden  letters.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  hall  was  the 
Magna  Charta,  with  the  Act  of  Uniformity  on  the  right 
hand,  and  the  Act  of  Toleration  on  the  left.  At  the 
lower  end  of  the  hall  was  the  Act  of  Settlement,  which 
was  placed  full  in  the  eye  of  the  virgin  that  sat  upon  the 
throne.  Both  the  sides  of  the  hall  were  covered  with 
such  acts  of  parliament  as  had  been  made  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  public  funds.  The  lady  seemed  to  set  an 
unspeakable  value  upon  these  several  pieces  of  furniture, 
insomuch  that  she  often  refreshed  her  eye  with  them,  and 
often  smiled  with  a  secret  pleasure,  as  she  looked  upon 
them;  but,  at  the  same  time,  showed  a  very  particular 
uneasiness,  as  if  she  saw  anything  approaching  that  might 
hurt  them.  She  appeared  indeed  infinitely  timorous  in 
all  her  behavior:  and,  whether  it  was  from  the  delicacy 
of  her  constitution,  or  that  she  was  troubled  with  vapors, 
as  I  was  afterwards  told  by  one  who  I  found  was  none  of 
her  well-wishers,  she  changed  color,  and  startled  at  every- 
thing she  heard.  She  was  likewise  (as  I  afterwards  found) 
a  greater  valetudinarian  than  any  I  had  ever  met  with, 
even  in  her  own  sex,  and  subject  to  such  momentary  con- 
sumptions, that  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  she  would 
fall  away  from  the  most  florid  complexion,  and  the  most 
healthful  state  of  body,  and  wither  into  a  skeleton.  Her 
recoveries  were  often  as  sudden  as  her  decays,  insomuch 
that  she  would  revive  in  a  moment  out  of  a  wasting 
distemper,  into  a  habit  of  the  highest  health  and  vigor. 

I  had  very  soon  an  opportunity  of  observing  these  quick 
turns  and  changes  in  her  constitution.  There  sat  at  her 
feet  a  couple  of  secretaries,  who  received  every  hour 
letters  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  which  the  one  or 
the  other  of  them  was  perpetually  reading  to  her;  and, 


60  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

according  to  the  news  slie  heard,  to  which  she  was  ex- 
ceedingly attentive,  she  changed  color,  and  discovered 
many  symptoms  of  health  or  sickness. 

Behind  the  throne  was  a  prodigious  heap  of  bags  of 
money,  which  were  piled  upon  one  another  so  high  that 
they  touched  the  ceiling.  The  floor,  on  her  right  hand 
and  on  her  left,  was  covered  with  vast  sums  of  gold  that 
rose  up  in  pyramids  on  either  side  of  her.  But  this  I 
did  not  so  much  wonder  at,  when  I  heard,  upon  inquiry, 
that  she  had  the  same  virtue  in  her  touch,  which  the 
poets  tell  us  a  Lydian  king  was  formerly  possessed  of :  and 
that  she  could  convert  whatever  she  pleased  into  that 
precious  metal. 

After  a  little  dizziness,  and  confused  hurry  of  thought, 
which  a  man  often  meets  with  in  a  dream,  methoughts 
the  hall  was  alarmed,  the  doors  flew  open,  and  there 
entered  half  a  dozen  of  the  most  hideous  phantoms  that 
I  had  ever  seen  (even  in  a  dream)  before  that  time. 
They  came  in  two  by  two,  though  matched  in  the  most 
dissociable  manner,  and  mingled  together  in  a  kind  of 
dance.  It  would  be  tedious  to  describe  their  habits  and 
persons,  lor  which  reason  I  shall  only  inform  my  reader 
that  the  first  couple  were  Tyranny  and  Anarchy,  the  sec- 
ond were  Bigotry  and  Atheism,  the  third  the  genius  of 
a  Commonwealth  and  a  young  man  of  about  twenty-two 
years  of  age,  whose  name  I  could  not  learn.  He  had  a 
sword  in  his  right  hand,  which  in  the  dance  he  often 
brandished  at  the  Act  of  Settlement;  and  a  citizen,  who 
stood  by  me,  whispered  in  my  ear,  that  he  saw  a  sponge  in 
his  left  hand.  The  dance  of  so  many  jarring  natures  put 
me  in  mind  of  the  sun,  moon  and  earth,  in  the  Rehearsal, 
that  danced  together  for  no  other  end  but  to  eclipse  one 
another. 

The  reader  will  easily  suppose,  by  what  has  been  before 
said,  that  the  lady  on  the  throne  would  have  been  almost 
frightened  to  distraction,  had  she  seen  but  any  one  of 
these  specters;  what  then  must  have  been  her  condition 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  61 

when  she  saw  them  all  in  a  body?     She  fainted  and  died 
away  at  the  sight. 

Et  neque  jam  color  est  misto  candor e  rubor i; 
Nee  vigor,  et  vires,  et  quae  modo  visa  placebant; 
Nee  corpus  remanet. 

— Ovid.  Met.  Lib.  iii. 

There  was  a  great  change  in  the  hill  of  money  bags, 
and  the  heaps  of  money,  the  former  shrinking,  and  falling 
into  so  many  empty  bags,  that  I  now  found  not  above  a 
tenth  part  of  them  had  been  fiUed  with  money.  The  rest 
that  took  up  the  same  space,  and  made  the  same  figure 
as  the  bags  that  were  really  filled  with  money,  had  been 
blown  up  with  air,  and  called  into  my  memory  the  bags 
full  of  wind,  which  Homer  tells  us  his  hero  received  as 
a  present  from  ^olus.  The  great  heaps  of  gold,  on  either 
side  the  throne,  now  appeared  to  be  only  heaps  of  paper, 
or  little  piles  of  notched  sticks,  bound  up  together  in 
bundles,  like  Bath  faggots. 

Whilst  I  was  lamenting  this  sudden  desolation  that 
had  been  made  before  me,  the  whole  scene  vanished:  in 
the  room  of  the  frightful  specters,  there  now  entered  a 
second  dance  of  apparitions  very  agreeably  matched  to- 
gether, and  made  up  of  very  amiable  phantoms.  The 
first  pair  was  Liberty  with  Monarchy  at  her  right  hand: 
the  second  was  Moderation  leading  in  Religion;  and  the 
third  a  person  whom  I  had  never  seen,  with  the  genius  of 
Great  Britain.  At  the  first  entrance  the  lady  revived,  the 
bag  swelled  to  their  former  bulk,  the  piles  of  faggots  and 
heaps  of  paper  changed  into  pyramids  of  guineas:  and 
for  my  own  part  I  was  so  transported  with  joy,  that  I 
awaked,  though  I  must  confess,  I  would  fain  have  fallen 
asleep  again  to  have  closed  my  vision,  if  I  could  have 
done  it. 


/63  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

f  Spectator  No.  7.    Thursday  March  8,  lYll.    Addison.] 

Sonmia,  terrores  magioos,  miraoula,  sagas, 

Nocturnes  lemuresy  portentaque  Thessala  rides?  ^ — ^HoB. 

Going  yesterday  to  dine  with  an  old  acquaintance,  I 
liad  the  misfortune  to  find  his  whole  family  very  much 
^iejected.  Upon  asking  him  the  occasion  of  it,  he  told 
me  that  his  wife  had  dreamt  a  strange  dream  the  night 
iefore,  which  they  were  afraid  portended  some  misfortune 
to  themselves  or  to  their  children.  At  her  coming  into 
the  room  I  observed  a  settled  melancholy  in  her  counte- 
nance, which  I  should  have  been  troubled  for,  had  I  not 
heard  from  whence  it  proceeded.  We  were  no  sooner 
sat  down  but  after  having  looked  upon  me  a  little  while, 
^^My  dear,''  (says  she,  turning  to  her  husband)  "you  may 
now  see  the  stranger  that  was  in  the  candle  last  night." 
Soon  after  this,  as  they  began  to  talk  of  family  affairs, 
a  little  boy  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table  told  her,  that 
he  was  to  go  into  join-hand  on  Thursday.  "Thursday?'^ 
(says  she,)  "No,  child,  if  it  please  God,  you  shall  not 
begin  upon  Childermas-day :  tell  your  writing-master  that 
Friday  will  be  soon  enough."  I  was  reflecting  with  my- 
self on  the  oddness  of  her  fancy,  and  wondering  that  any- 
body would  establish  it  as  a  rule  to  lose  a  day  in  every 
week.  In  the  midst  of  these  my  musings,  she  desired  me  to 
reach  her  a  little  salt  upon  the  point  of  my  knife,  which 
I  did  in  such  a  trepidation  and  hurry  of  obedience,  that 
I  let  it  drop  by  the  way ;  at  which  she  immediately  startled, 
and  said  it  fell  towards  her.  Upon  this  I  looked  very 
blank;  and,  observing  the  concern  of  the  whole  table, 
began  to  consider  myself,  with  some  confusion,  as  a 
person  that  had  brought  a  disaster  upon  the  family.  The 
lady  however  recovering  herself,  after  a  little  space,  said 
to  her  husband,  with  a  sigh,  "My  dear,  misfortunes  never 
come  single."  My  friend,  I  found,  acted  but  an  under 
part  at  his  table,  and  being  a  man  of  more  good-nature 

^  Visions  and  magic  spells,  can  you  despise, 
And  laugh  at  witches,  ghosts  and  prodigies. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  08 

than  understanding,  thinks  himself  obliged  to  fall  in  with 
all  the  passions  and  humors  of  his  yoke-fellow.  "Do  yon 
not  remember,  child,"  (says  she,)  "that  the  pigeon-house 
fell  the  very  afternoon  that  our  careless  wench  spilt  the 
salt  upon  the  table?"  "Yes,"  (says  he,)  "my  dear,  and 
the  next  post  brought  us  an  account  of  the  battle  of 
Almanza."  The  reader  may  guess  at  the  figure  I  mad^,. 
after  having  done  all  this  mischief.  I  dispatched  my 
dinner  as  soon  as  I  could,  with  my  usual  taciturnity  r 
when,  to  my  utter  confusion,  the  lady  seeing  me  quitting 
my  knife  and  fork,  and  laying  them  across  one  another 
upon  my  plate,  desired  me  that  I  would  humor  her  so  far 
as  to  take  them  out  of  that  figure,  and  place  them  side- 
by  side.  What  the  absurdity  was  which  I  had  committed 
I  did  not  know,  but  I  suppose  there  was  some  traditionary 
superstition  in  it ;  and  therefore,  in  obedience  to  the  lady 
of  the  house,  I  disposed  of  my  knife  and  fork  in  two 
parallel  lines,  which  is  the  figure  I  shall  always  lay 
them  in  for  the  future,  though  I  do  not  know  any  reason 
for  it. 

It  is  not  difficult  for  a  man  to  see  that  a  person  has 
conceived  an  aversion  to  him.  For  my  own  part,  I  quickly 
found,  by  the  lady's  looks,  that  she  regarded  me  as  a 
very  odd  kind  of  fellow,  with  an  unfortunate  aspect.  For 
which  reason  I  took  my  leave  immediately  after  dinner, 
and  withdrew  to  my  own  lodgings.  Upon  my  return  home, 
I  fell  into  a  profound  contemplation  of  the  evils  that 
attend  these  superstitious  follies  of  mankind;  how  they 
subject  us  to  imaginary  afflictions,  and  additional  sorrows, 
that  do  not  properly  come  within  our  lot.  As  if  the 
natural  calamities  of  life  were  not  sufficient  for  it,  we 
turn  the  most  indifferent  circumstances  into  misfortunes, 
and  suffer  as  much  from  trifling  accidents,  as  from  real 
evils.  I  have  known  the  shooting  of  a  star  spoil  a  nightfs 
rest;  and  have  seen  a  man  in  love  grow  pale  and  lose 
his  appetite,  upon  the  plucking  of  a  merry-thought.  A 
screech-owl  at  midnight  has  alarmed  a  family  more  than 
a  band  of  robbers ;  nay,  the  voice  of  a  cricket  hath  struck 


64  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

more  terror  than  the  roaring  of  a  lion.  There  is  nothing 
so  inconsiderable,  which  may  not  appear  dreadful  to  an 
imagination  that  is  filled  with  omens  and  prognostics. 
A  rusty  nail,  or  a  crooked  pin,  shoot  up  into  prodigies. 

I  remember  I  was  once  in  a  mixed  assembly,  that  was 
full  of  noise  and  mirth,  when  on  a  sudden  an  old  woman 
unluckily  observed  there  were  thirteen  of  us  in  company. 
This  remark  struck  a  panic  terror  into  several  who  were 
present,  insomuch  that  one  or  two  of  the  ladies  were  going 
to  leave  the  room;  but  a  friend  of  mine  taking  notice 
that  one  of  our  female  companions  was  big  with  child, 
affirmed  there  were  fourteen  in  the  room,  and  that,  in- 
stead of  portending  one  of  the  company  should  die,  it 
plainly  foretold  one  of  them  should  be  bom.  Had  not 
my  friend  found  this  expedient  to  break  the  omen,  I 
question  not  but  half  the  women  in  the  company  would 
have  fallen  sick  that  very  night. 

An  old  maid,  that  is  troubled  with  the  vapors,  produces 
infinite  disturbances  of  this  kind  among  her  friends  and 
neighbors.  I  know  a  maiden  aunt  of  a  great  family, 
who  is  one  of  these  antiquated  Sibyls,  that  forebodes  and 
prophesies  from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other.  She 
is  always  seeing  apparitions,  and  hearing  death-watches; 
and  was  the  other  day  almost  frighted  out  of  her  wits 
by  the  great  house-dog,  that  howled  in  the  stable  at  a 
time  when  she  lay  ill  of  the  tooth-ache.  Such  an  extrava- 
gant cast  of  mind  engages  multitudes  of  people  not  only 
in  impertinent  terrors,  but  in  supernumerary  duties  of 
life;  and  arises  from  that  fear  and  ignorance  which  are 
natural  to  the  soul  of  man.  The  horror  with  which 
we  entertain  the  thoughts  of  death  (or  indeed  of  any 
future  evil)  and  the  uncertainty  of  its  approach,  fill  a 
melancholy  mind  with  innumerable  apprehensions  and 
suspicions,  and  consequently  dispose  it  to  the  observa- 
tion of  such  groundless  prodigies  and  predictions.  Eor 
as  it  is  the  chief  concern  of  wise  men  to  retrench  the 
evils  of  life  by  the  reasonings  of  philosophy;  it  is  the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  66 

employment  of  fools  to  multiply  them  by  the  sentiments 
of  superstition. 

For  my  own  part,  I  should  be  very  much  troubled  were 
I  endowed  with  this  divining  quality,  though  it  should 
inform  me  truly  of  every  thing  that  can  befall  me.  I 
would  not  anticipate  the  relish  of  any  happiness,  nor 
feel  the  weight  of  any  misery,  before  it  actually  arrives. 

I  know  but  one  way  of  fortifying  my  soul  against 
these  gloomy  presages  and  terrors  of  mind,  and  that  is, 
by  securing  to  myself  the  friendship  and  protection  of  that 
Being  who  disposes  of  events,  and  governs  futurity.  He 
sees,  at  one  view,  the  whole  thread  of  my  existence,  not 
only  that  part  of  it  which  I  have  already  passed  through, 
but  that  which  runs  forward  into  all  the  depths  of  eter- 
nity. When  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,  I  recommend  myself 
to  his  care;  when  I  awake,  I  give  myself  up  to  his  direc* 
tion.  Amidst  all  the  evils  that  threaten  me,  I  will  look 
up  to  him  for  help,  and  question  not  but  he  will  either 
avert  them,  or  turn  them  to  my  advantage.  Though  I 
know  neither  the  time  nor  the  manner  of  the  death  I 
am  to  die,  I  am  not  at  all  solicitous  about  it;  because  I 
am  sure  that  he  knows  them  both,  and  that  he  will  not 
fail  to  comfort  and  support  me  under  them. 

[Spectator  No.  10.    Monday,  March  12, 1711.    Addison.] 

Non  aliter  quam  qui  adverse  vix  flumme  lemhutn 
Remigiis  suhigit:  si  hraohia  forte  remisit, 
Atque  ilium  in  prwceps  prono  rapit  alveus  amni.^ — ViBG. 

It  is  with  much  satisfaction  that  I  hear  this  great  city 
inquiring  day  by  day  after  these  my  papers,  and  receiving 
my  morning  lectures  with  a  becoming  seriousness  and 
attention.  My  publisher  tells  me  that  there  are  already 
three  thousand  of  them  distributed  every  day.  So  that 
if  I  allow  twenty  readers  to  every  paper,  which  I  look 

*  So  the  boat's  brawny  crew  the  current  stem, 
And,   slow   advancing,   struggle  with   the   stream : 
But  if  they  slack  their  hands  or  cease  to  strive, 
Then  down  the  flood  with  headlong  haste  they  drive. 

— Dryden. 


€6  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

upon  as  a  modest  computation,  I  may  reckon  about  three- 
score thousand  disciples  in  London  and  Westminster,  who ; 
I  hope  will  take  care  to  distinguish  themselves  from  the 
thoughtless  herd  of  their  ignorant  and  unattentive  breth- 
ren. Since  I  have  raised  to  myseK  so  great  an  audi- 
ence, I  shall  spare  no  pains  to  make  their  instruction 
agreeable,  and  their  diversion  useful.  For  which  reasons 
I  shall  endeavor  to  enliven  morality  with  wit,  and  to 
temper  wit  with  morality,  that  my  readers  may,  if  pos- 
sible, both  ways  find  their  account  in  the  speculation  of 
the  day.  And  to  the  end  that  their  virtue  and  discretion 
may  not  be  short,  transient,  intermitting  starts  of  thought, 
I  have  resolved  to  refresh  their  memories  from  day  to  day, 
till  I  have  recovered  them  out  of  that  desperate  state  of 
vice  and  folly  into  which  the  age  is  fallen.  The  mind 
that  lies  fallow  but  a  single  day,  sprouts  up  in  follies 
that  are  only  to  be  killed  by  a  constant  and  assiduous 
culture.  It  was  said  of  Socrates,  that  he  brought  philoso- 
phy down  from  heaven,  to  inhabit  among  men;  and  I 
shall  be  ambitious  to  have  it  said  of  me,  that  I  have 
brought  philosophy  out  of  closets  and  libraries,  schools 
and  colleges,  to  dwell  in  clubs  and  assemblies,  at  tea- 
tables  and  in  coffee-houses. 

I  would  therefore  in  a  very  particular  manner  recom- 
mend these  my  speculations  to  aU  well-regulated  families, 
that  set  apart  an  hour  in  every  morning  for  tea  and 
bread  and  butter;  and  would  earnestly  advise  them  foi 
their  good  to  order  this  paper  to  be  punctually  served  up, 
and  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  part  of  the  tea-equipage. 

Sir  Francis  Bacon  observes,  that  a  well  written  book, 
compared  with  its  rivals  and  antagonists,  is  like  Moses's 
serpent,  that  immediately  swallowed  up  and  devoured 
those  of  the  Egyptians.  I  shall  not  be  so  vain  as  to 
think,  that  where  the  Spectator  appears,  the  other  public 
prints  will  vanish;  but  shall  leave  it  to  my  reader's  con- 
sideration, whether,  is  it  not  much  better  to  be  let  into 
the  knowledge  of  one's  self,  than  to  hear  what  passes 
in  Muscovy  or  Poland;  and  to  amuse  ourselves  with  such 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  67 

writings  as  tend  to  the  wearing  out  of  ignorance,  passion, 
and  prejudice,  than  such  as  naturally  conduce  to  inflame 
hatreds,  and  make  enmities  irreconcilable? 

In  the  next  place,  I  would  recommend  this  paper  to* 
the  daily  perusal  of  those  gentlemen  whom  I  cannot  but 
consider  as  my  good  brothers  and  allies,  I  mean  the 
fraternity  of  spectators,  who  live  in  the  world  without 
having  anything  to  do  in  it;  and  either  by  the  affluence 
of  their  fortunes,  or  laziness  of  their  dispositions,  have 
no  other  business  with  the  rest  of  mankind,  but  to  look 
upon  them.  Under  this  class  of  men  are  comprehen(3aJ 
all  contemplative  tradesmen,  titular  physicians,  fellow&  of 
the  Eoyal  Society,  Templars  that  are  not  given  to  be 
contentious,  and  statesmen  that  are  out  of  business;  m 
short,  every  one  that  considers  the  world  as  a  theater, 
and  desires  to  form  a  right  judgment  of  those  who  are 
the  actors  on  it. 

There  is  another  set  of  men  that  I  must  likewise  lay 
a  claim  to,  whom  I  have  lately  called  the  blanks  of  society, 
as  being  altogether  unfurnished  with  ideas,  till  the  busi- 
ness and  conversation  of  the  day  has  supplied  them,  I 
have  often  considered  these  poor  souls  with  an  eye  of 
great  commiseration,  when  I  have  heard  them  asking  the 
first  man  they  have  met  with,  whether  there  was  aiiy 
news  stirring?  and  by  that  means  gathering  together 
materials  for  thinking.  These  needy  persons  do  not  know 
what  to  talk  of,  till  about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  morning; 
for  by  that  time  they  are  pretty  good  judges  of  the 
weather,  know  which  way  the  wind  sits,  and  whether  the 
Dutch  mail  be  come  in.  As  they  lie  at  the  mercy  of  the 
first  man  they  meet,  and  are  grave  or  impertinent  all 
the  day  long,  according  to  the  notions  which  they  have 
imbibed  in  the  morning,  I  would  earnestly  intreat  thenr 
not  to  stir  out  of  their  chambers  till  they  have  read 
this  paper,  and  do  promise  them  that  I  will  daily  instil 
into  them  such  sound  and  wholesome  sentiments,  as  shall 
have  a  good  effect  on  their  conversation  for  the  ensuing: 
twelve  hours. 


68  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

But  there  are  none  to  whom  this  paper  will  be  more 
useful,  than  to  the  female  world.  I  have  often  thought 
there  has  not  been  sufficient  pains  taken  in  finding  out 
proper  employments  and  diversions  for  the  fair  ones. 
Their  amusements  seem  contrived  for  them,  rather  as  they 
are  women,  than  as  they  are  reasonable  creatures;  and 
are  more  adapted  to  the  sex  than  to  the  species.  The 
toilet  is  their  great  scene  of  business,  and  the  right 
adjusting  of  their  hair  the  principal  employment  of  their 
lives.  The  sorting  of  a  suit  of  ribbons  is  reckoned  a  very 
good  morning's  work;  and  if  they  make  an  excursion  to 
a  mercer's  or  a  toy-shop,  so  great  a  fatigue  makes  them 
unfit  for  anything  else  all  the  day  after.  Their  more 
serious  occupations  are  sewing  and  embroidery,  and  their 
greatest  drudgery  the  preparation  of  jellies  and  sweet- 
meats. This,  I  say,  is  the  state  of  ordinary  women; 
though  I  know  there  are  multitudes  of  those  of  a  more 
elevated  life  and  conversation,  that  move  in  an  exalted 
sphere  of  knowledge  and  virtue,  that  join  all  the  beauties 
of  the  mind  to  the  ornaments  of  dress,  and  inspire  a 
kind  of  awe  and  respect,  as  well  as  love,  into  their  male 
beholder.  I  hope  to  increase  the  number  of  these  by 
publishing  this  daily  paper,  which  I  shall  always  endeavor 
to  make  an  innocent  if  not  an  improving  entertainment, 
and  by  that  means  at  least  divert  the  minds  of  my  female 
readers  from  greater  trifles.  At  the  same  time,  as  I 
would  fain  give  some  finishing  touches  to  those  which 
are  already  the  most  beautiful  pieces  in  human  nature,  I 
shall  endeavor  to  point  out  all  those  imperfections  that 
are  the  blemishes,  as  well  as  those  virtues  which  are  the 
embellishments  of  the  sex.  In  the  meanwhile  I  hope 
these  my  gentle  readers,  who  have  so  much  time  on  their 
hands,  will  not  grudge  throwing  away  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  in  a  day  on  this  paper,  since  they  may  do  it  without 
any  hindrance  to  business. 

I  know  several  of  my  friends  and  well-wishers  are  in 
great  pain  for  me,  lest  I  should  not  be  able  to  keep  up 
the  spirit  of  a  paper  which  I  oblige  myself  to  furnish 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  69 

every  day:  but  to  make  them  easy  in  this  particular,  I 
will  promise  them  faithfully  to  give  it  over  as  soon  as  I 
grow  dull.  This  I  know  will  be  matter  of  great  raillery 
to  the  small  wits;  who  will  frequently  put  me  in  mind 
of  my  promise,  desire  me  to  keep  my  word,  assure  me  that 
it  is  high  time  to  give  over,  with  many  other  little  pleas- 
antries of  the  like  nature,  which  men  of  a  little  smart 
genius  cannot  forbear  throwing  out  against  their  best 
friends,  when  they  have  such  a  handle  given  them  of 
being  witty.  But  let  them  remember  that  I  do  hereby 
enter  my  caveat  against  this  piece  of  raillery. 

[Spectator    No.    13.       Thursday,    March    16,    1711. 

Addison.] 

Die  tnihi,  si  fueras  tu  leo,  qualis  erisf^ — ^Mabt, 

There  is  nothing  that  of  late  years  has  afforded  matter 
of  greater  amusement  to  the  town  than  Siguier  Nicolini's 
combat  with  a  lion  in  the  Haymarket,  which  has  been 
very  often  exhibited  to  the  general  satisfaction  of  most 
of  the  nobility  and  gentry  in  the  kingdom  of  Great 
Britain.  Upon  the  first  rumor  of  this  intended  combat, 
it  was  confidently  affirmed,  and  is  still  believed  by  many 
in  both  galleries,  that  there  would  be  a  tame  lion  sent 
from  the  Tower  every  opera  night,  in  order  to  be  killed 
by  Hydaspes;  this  report,  though  altogether  groundless, 
so  universally  prevailed  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  play- 
house, that  some  of  the  most  refined  politicians  in  those 
parts  of  the  audience  gave  it  out  in  whisper,  that  the 
lion  was  a  cousin-german  of  the  tiger  who  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  King  William's  days,  and  that  the  stage 
would  be  supplied  with  lions  at  the  public  expense,  during 
the  whole  session.  Many  likewise  were  the  conjectures 
of  the  treatment  which  this  lion  was  to  meet  with  from 
the  hands  of  Siguier  Nicolini ;  some  supposed  that  he  was 
to  subdue  him  in  recitative,  as  Orpheus  used  to  serve 
the  wild  beasts  in  his  time,  and  afterwards  to  knock  him 

^  The  doves  are  censured,  while  the  crows  are  spared. 


70  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

on  the  head;  some  fancied  that  the  lion  would  not  pre- 
tend to  lay  his  paws  upon  the  hero,  by  reason  of  the 
received  opinion,  that  a  lion  will  not  hurt  a  virgin:  sev- 
eral, who  pretended  to  have  seen  the  opera  in  Italy,  had 
informed  their  friends,  that  the  lion  was  to  act  a  part 
in  High-Dutch,  and  roar  twice  or  thrice  to  a  thorough- 
base,  before  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  Hydaspes.  To  clear  up 
a  matter  that  was  so  variously  reported,  I  have  made  it 
my  business  to  examine  whether  this  pretended  lion  is 
really  the  savage  he  appears  to  be,  or  only  a  counterfeit. 
But  before  I  communicate  my  discoveries,  I  must  ac- 
quaint the  reader,  that  upon  my  walking  behind  the 
scenes  last  winter,  as  I  was  thinking  on  something  else, 
I  accidentally  justled  against  a  monstrous  animal  that 
extremely  startled  me,  and  upon  my  nearer  survey  of  it, 
appeared  to  be  a  lion  rampant.  The  lion,  seeing  me 
very  much  surprised,  told  me,  in  a  gentle  voice,  that  I 
might  come  by  him  if  I  pleased:  "for,"  (says  he,)  "I 
do  not  intend  to  hurt  anybody."  I  thanked  him  very 
kindly,  and  passed  by  him.  And  in  a  little  time  after 
saw  him  leap  upon  the  stage,  and  act  his  part  with  very 
great  applause.  It  has  been  observed  by  several,  that 
the  lion  has  changed  his  manner  of  acting  twice  or  thrice 
since  his  first  appearance;  which  will  not  seem  strange, 
when  I  acquaint  my  reader  that  the  lion  has  been  changed 
upon  the  audience  three  several  times.  The  first  lion  was 
a  candle-snuffer,  who  being  a  fellow  of  a  testy,  choleric 
temper,  overdid  his  part,  and  would  not  suffer  himself 
to  be  killed  so  easily  as  he  ought  to  have  done;  besides, 
it  was  observed  of  him,  that  he  grew  more  surly  every 
time  he  came  out  of  the  lion,  and  having  dropt  some 
words  in  ordinary  conversation,  as  if  he  had  not  fought 
his  best,  and  that  he  suffered  himself  to  be  thrown  upon 
bis  back  in  the  scuffle,  and  that  he  would  wrestle  with  Mr. 
Nicolin  for  what  he  pleased,  out  of  his  lion's  skin,  it 
was  thought  proper  to  discard  him:  and  it  is  verily  be- 
lieved, to  this  day,  that  had  he  been  brought  upon  the 
stage  another  time,  he  would  certainly  have  done  mis- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  71 

chief.  Besides,  it  was  objected  against  the  first  lion,  that 
he  reared  himself  so  high  upon  his  hinder  paws,  and 
walked  in  so  erect  a  posture,  that  he  looked  more  like  an 
old  man  than  a  lion. 

The  second  lion  was  a  tailor  by  trade,  who  belonged  to 
the  play-house,  and  had  the  character  of  a  mild  and  peace- 
able man  in  his  profession.  If  the  former  was  too  furious, 
this  was  too  sheepish,  for  his  part;  insomuch  that  after 
a  short  modest  walk  upon  the  stage,  he  would  fall  at  the 
first  touch  of  Hydaspes,  without  grappling  with  him, 
and  giving  him  an  opportunity  of  showing  his  variety 
of  Italian  trips :  it  is  said  indeed,  that  he  once  gave  him 
a  rip  in  his  flesh-colour  doublet;  but  this  was  only  to 
make  work  for  himself,  in  his  private  character  of  a 
tailor.  I  must  not  omit  that  it  was  this  second  lion  who 
treated  me  with  so  much  humanity  behind  the  scenes. 

The  acting  lion  at  present  is,  as  I  am  informed,  a 
country  gentleman,  who  does  it  for  his  diversion,  but 
desires  his  name  may  be  concealed.  He  says  very  hand- 
somely in  his  own  excuse,  that  he  does  not  act  for  gain, 
that  he  indulges  an  innocent  pleasure  in  it;  and  that  it 
is  better  to  pass  away  an  evening  in  this  manner,  than 
in  gaming  and  drinking :  but  at  the  same  time  says,  with 
a  very  agreeable  raillery  upon  himself,  that  if  his  name 
should  be  known,  the  ill-natured  world  might  call  him 
*^The  ass  in  the  lion's  skin."  This  gentleman's  temper 
is  made  out  of  such  a  happy  mixture  of  the  mild  and 
the  choleric,  that  he  outdoes  both  his  predecessors,  and 
has  drawn  together  greater  audiences  than  have  been 
known  in  the  memory  of  man. 

I  must  not  conclude  my  narrative,  without  taking 
notice  of  a  groundless  report  that  has  been  raised,  to  a 
gentleman's  disadvantage  of  whom  I  must  declare  myself 
an  admirer;  namely,  that  Siguier  Nicolini  and  the  lion 
have  been  seen  sitting  peaceably  by  one  another,  and 
smoking  a  pipe  together,  behind  the  scenes;  by  which 
their  common  enemies  would  insinuate,  that  it  is  but  a 
eham  combat  which  they  represent  upon  the  stage:  "but. 


72  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

upon  inquiry  I  find,  that  if  any  sucli  correspondence  has 
passed  between  them,  it  was  not  till  the  combat  was  over, 
when  the  lion  was  to  be  looked  upon  as  dead,  according 
to  the  received  rules  of  the  drama.  Besides,  this  is  what 
is  practised  every  day  in  Westminster  hall,  where  nothing 
is  more  usual  than  to  see  a  couple  of  lawyers,  who  have 
been  tearing  each  other  to  pieces  in  the  court,  embracing 
one  another  as  soon  as  they  are  out  of  it. 

I  would  not  be  thought,  in  any  part  of  this  relation,  to 
reflect  upon  Siguier  Nicolini,  who  in  acting  this  part  only 
complies  with  the  wretched  taste  of  his  audience ;  he  knows 
very  well,  that  the  lion  has  many  more  admirers  than 
himself;  as  they  say  of  the  famous  equestrian  statue  on 
the  Pont-Neuf  at  Paris,  that  more  people  go  to  see  the 
horse,  than  the  king  who  sits  upon  it.  On  the  contrary, 
it  gives  me  a  just  indignation  to  see  a  person  whose 
action  gives  new  majesty  to  kings,  resolution  to  heroes, 
and  softness  to  lovers,  thus  sinking  from  the  greatness 
of  his  behavior,  and  degraded  into  the  character  of  the 
London  Prentice.  I  have  often  wished  that  our  trage- 
dians would  copy  after  this  great  master  in  action.  Could 
they  make  the  same  use  of  their  arms  and  legs,  and 
inform  their  faces  with  as  significant  looks  and  passions, 
how  glorious  would  an  English  tragedy  appear  with 
that  action,  which  is  capable  of  giving  a  dignity  to  the 
forced  thoughts,  cold  conceits,  and  unnatural  expressions 
of  an  Italian  opera.  In  the  mean  time,  I  have  related 
this  combat  of  the  lion,  to  show  what  are  at  present  the 
reigning  entertainments  of  the  politer  part  of  Great 
Britain. 

Audiences  have  often  been  reproached  by  writers  for 
the  coarseness  of  their  tastes;  but  our  present  grievance 
does  not  seem  to  be  the  want  of  a  good  taste,  but  of 
common  sense. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  73 


[Spectator  No.  28.    Monday,  April  2,  1711.    Addison.] 

Neque  semper  arcum 
Tendit  Appolo,^  — Hob. 

I  shall  here  present  my  reader  with  a  letter  from  a 
projector,  concerping  a  new  office  which  he  thinks  may 
very  much  contribute  to  the  embellishment  of  the  city, 
and  to  the  driving  barbarity  out  of  our  streets.  I  con- 
sider it  as  a  satire  upon  projectors  in  general,  and  a  lively 
picture  of  the  whole  art  of  modern  criticism. 

"Sir, 

'^Observing  that  you  have  thoughts  of  creating  certain 
officers  under  you,  for  the  inspection  of  several  petty 
enormities  which  you  yourseK  cannot  attend  to ;  and  find- 
ing daily  absurdities  hung  out  upon  the  sign-post  of  this 
city,  to  the  great  scandal  of  foreigners,  as  well  as  those 
of  our  own  country,  who  are  curious  spectators  of  the 
same:  I  do  humbly  propose,  that  you  would  be  pleased 
to  make  me  your  superintendent  of  all  such  figures  and 
devices  as  are  or  shall  be  made  use  of  on  this  occasion; 
with  full  powers  to  rectify  or  expunge  whatever  I  shall 
find  irregular  or  defective.  For  want  of  such  an  officer, 
there  is  nothing  like  sound  literature  and  good  sense  to 
be  met  with  in  those  objects,  that  are  everywhere  thrust- 
ing themselves  out  to  the  eye,  and  endeavoring  to  become 
visible.  Our  streets  are  filled  with  blue  boars,  black 
swans,  and  red  lions ;  not  to  mention  flying  pigs,  and  hogs 
in  armor,  with  many  other  creatures  more  extraordinary 
than  any  in  the  deserts  of  Africa.  Strange !  that  one  who 
has  all  the  birds  and  beasts  in  nature  to  choose  out  of, 
should  live  at  the  sign  of  an  ens  rationis! 

*'My  first  task  therefore  should  be,  like  that  of  Hercules, 
to  clear  the  city  from  monsters.  In  the  second  place  I 
would  forbid  that  creatures  of  jarring  and  incongruous 
natures  should  be  joined  together  in  the  same  sign;  such 

*  Nor  does   Apollo  always  bend   his   bow. 


74  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

as  the  Bell  and  the  Neat's  Tongue,  the  Dog  and  Gridiron. 
The  Fox  and  the  Goose  may  be  supposed  to  have  met; 
but  what  has  the  Fox  and  the  Seven  Stars  to  do  together  ? 
And  when  did  the  Lamb  and  Dolphin  ever  meet,  except 
upon  a  sign-post?  As  for  the  Cat  and  the  Fiddle,  there 
is  a  conceit  in  it;  and  therefore  I  do  not  intend  that  any 
thing  I  have  here  said  should  affect  it.  I  must  however 
observe  to  you  upon  this  subject,  that  it  is  usual  for  a 
young  tradesman,  at  his  first  setting  up,  to  add  to  his 
sign  that  of  the  master  whom  he  served;  as  the  husband 
after  marriage,  gives  a  place  to  his  mistress's  arms  in  his 
own  coat.  This  I  take  to  have  given  rise  to  many  of 
those  absurdities  which  are  committed  over  our  heads; 
and,  as  I  am  informed,  first  occasioned  the  Three  Nuns 
and  a  Hare,  which  we  see  so  frequently  joined  together. 
I  would  therefore  establish  certain  rules,  for  the  deter- 
mining how  far  one  tradesman  may  give  the  sign  of 
another,  and  in  what  cases  he  may  be  allowed  to  quarter 
it  with  his  own. 

"In  the  third  place,  I  would  enjoin  every  shop  to  make 
use  of  a  sign  which  bears  some  affinity  to  the  wares  in 
which  it  deals.  What  can  be  more  inconsistent,  than  to 
see  a  bawd  at  the  sign  of  the  Angel,  or  a  tailor  at  the 
Lion?  A  cook  should  not  live  at  the  Boot,  nor  a  shoe- 
maker at  the  Boasted  Pig;  and  yet,  for  want  of  this 
regulation,  I  have  seen  a  goat  set  up  before  the  door  of 
a  perfumer,  and  the  French  king's  head  at  a  sword-cutler's. 

"An  ingenious  foreigner  observes,  that  several  of  those 
gentlemen  who  value  themselves  upon  their  families,  and 
overlook  such  as  are  bred  to  trade,  bear  the  tools  of  their 
forefathers  in  their  coats  of  arms.  I  will  not  examine 
how  true  this  is  in  fact :  but  though  it  may  not  be  neces- 
sary for  posterity  thus  to  set  up  the  sign  of  their  fore- 
fathers, I  think  it  highly  proper  for  those  who  actually 
profess  the  trade,  to  show  some  such  marks  of  it  before 
their  doors. 

"When  the  name  gives  an  occasion  for  an  ingenious 
sign-post,  I  would  likewise  advise  the  owner  to  take  that 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  76 

opportunity  of  letting  the  world  know  wlio  lie  is.  It 
would  have  been  ridiculous  for  the  ingenious  Mrs.  Salmon 
to  have  lived  at  the  sign  of  the  Trout;  for  which  reason 
she  has  erected  before  her  house  the  figure  of  the  fish  that 
is  her  name-sake.  Mr.  Bell  has  likewise  distinguished 
himself  by  a  device  of  the  same  nature:  and  here,  Sir,  I 
must  beg  leave  to  observe  to  you,  that  this  particular 
figure  of  a  bell  has  given  occasion  to  several  pieces  of 
wit  in  this  kind.  A  man  of  your  reading  must  know  that 
Abel  Drugger  gained  great  applause  by  it  in  the  time  of 
Ben  Jonson.  Our  apocryphal  heathen  god  is  also  repre- 
sented by  this  figure;  which,  in  conjunction  with  the 
dragon,  makes  a  very  handsome  picture  in  several  of  our 
streets.  As  for  the  Bell  Savage,  which  is  the  sign  of 
a  savage  man  standing  by  a  bell,  I  was  formerly  very 
much  puzzled  upon  the  conceit  of  it,  till  I  accidentally 
fell  into  the  reading  of  an  old  romance  translated  out  of 
the  French;  which  gives  an  account  of  a  very  beautiful 
woman  who  was  found  in  the  wilderness,  and  is  called  in 
the  French  La  Belle  Sauvage;  and  is  everywhere  trans- 
lated by  our  countrymen  the  Bell  Savage.  This  piece 
of  philology  will,  I  hope,  convince  you  that  I  have  made 
signposts  my  study,  and  consequently  qualified  myself  for 
the  employment  which  I  solicit  at  your  hands.  But  be- 
fore I  conclude  my  letter,  I  must  communicate  to  you 
another  remark  which  I  have  made  upon  the  subject  with 
which  I  am  now  entertaining  you,  namely/  that  I  can 
give  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  humor  of  the  inhabitant  by 
the  sign  that  hangs  before  his  door.  A  surly  choleric 
fellow,  generally  makes  choice  of  a  bear;  as  men  of  milder 
dispositions  frequently  live  at  the  Lamb.  Seeing  a  punch- 
bowl painted  upon  a  sign  near  Charing  Cross,  and  very 
curiously  garnished,  with  a  couple  of  angels  hovering  over 
it,  and  squeezing  a  lemon  into  it,  I  had  the  curiosity 
to  ask  after  the  master  of  the  house,  and  found  upon 
inquiry,  as  I  had  guessed  by  the  little  agremen^  upon  his 
sign,  that  he  was  a  Frenchman.  I  know,  Sir,  it  is  not 
requisite  for  me  to  enlarge  upon  these  hints  to  a  gentleman 


76  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

of  your  great  abilities;  so  humbly  recommending  myself 
to  your  favor  and  patronage, 

**I  remain,  etc/' 

I  shall  add  to  the  foregoing  letter  another,  which  came 
to  me  by  the  same  penny-post. 

'Trom  my  own  apartment  near  Charing  Cross. 
^^ONORED  Sm, 

"Having  heard  that  this  nation  is  a  great  encourager 
of  ingenuity,  I  have  brought  with  me  a  rope-dancer  that 
was  caught  in  one  of  the  woods  belonging  to  the  Great 
Mogul.  He  is  by  birth  a  monkey;  but  swings  upon  a 
rope,  takes  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  and  drinks  a  glass  of  ale, 
like  any  reasonable  creature.  He  gives  great  satisfaction 
to  the  quality;  and  if  they  will  make  a  subscription  for 
him,  I  will  send  for  a  brother  of  his  out  of  Holland  that 
is  a  very  good  tumbler;  and  also  for  another  of  the  same 
family  whom  I  design  lor  my  Merry- Andrew,  as  being 
an  excellent  mimic,  and  the  greatest  droll  in  the  country 
where  he  now  is.  I  hope  to  have  thTs  entertainment  in 
readiness  for  the  next  winter;  and  doubt  not  but  it  will 
please  more  than  the  opera  or  puppet-show.  I  will  not 
say  that  a  monkey  is  a  better  man  than  some  of  the  opera 
heroes;  but  certainly  he  is  a  better  representative  of  a 
man,  than  the  most  artificial  composition  of  wood  and 
wire.  If  you  will  be  pleased  to  give  me  a  good  word  in 
your  paper,  you  shall  be  every  night  a  spectator  at  my 
show  for  nothing, 

'1  am,  etc." 

[Spectator  No.  35.    Tuesday,  April  10,  lYll.    Addison.] 

Risu  inepto  res  ineptior  nulla  est} — Mart. 

Among  all  kinds  of  writing,  there  is  none  in  which 
authors  are  more  apt  to  miscarry  than  in  works  of  humor, 
as  there  is  none  in  which  they  are  more  ambitious  to  excel. 

*  Unbred   to   spinning,   in   the   loom   unskilled.— Dryden. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  17 

It  is  not  an  imagination  that  teems  with  monsters,  an 
head  that  is  filled  with  extravagant  conceptions,  which 
is  capable  of  furnishing  the  world  with  diversions  of  this 
nature;  and  yet  if  we  look  into  the  productions  of  several 
writers,  who  set  up  men  of  humor,  what  wild  irregular 
fancies,  what  unnatural  distortions  of  thought,  do  we 
meet  with?  If  they  speak  nonsense,  they  believe  they 
are  talking  humor;  and  when  they  have  drawn  together 
a  scheme  of  absurd  inconsistent  ideas,  they  are  not  able 
to  read  it  over  to  themselves  without  laughing.  These 
poor  gentlemen  endeavor  to  gain  themselves  the  reputa- 
tion of  wits  and  humorists,  by  such  monstrous  conceits 
as  almost  qualify  them  for  Bedlam;  not  considering  that 
humor  should  always  lie  under  the  check  of  reason,  and 
that  it  requires  the  direction  of  the  nicest  judgment,  by 
so  much  the  more  as  it  indulges  itseH  in  the  most  bound- 
less freedoms.  There  is  a  kind  of  nature  that  is  to 
be  observed  in  this  sort  of  compositions,  as  well  as  in  all 
other;  and  a  certain  regularity  of  thought  which  must 
discover  the  writer  to  be  a  man  of  sense,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  appears  altogether  given  up  to  caprice.  For 
my  part,  when  I  read  the  delirious  mirth  of  an  unskilful 
author,  I  cannot  be  so  barbarous  as  to  divert  myself  with 
it,  but  am  rather  apt  to  pity  the  man,  than  to  laugh  at 
anything  he  writes. 

The  deceased  Mr.  Shadwell,  who  had  himself  a  great 
deal  of  the  talent  which  I  am  treating  of,  represents  an 
empty  rake,  in  one  of  his  plays,  as  very  much  surprised 
to  hear  one  say  that  breaking  of  windows  was  not  humor ; 
and  I  question  not  but  several  English  readers  will  be 
as  much  startled  to  hear  me  affirm,  that  many  of  those 
raving  incoherent  pieces,  which  are  often  spread  among 
us,  under  odd  chimerical  titles,  are  rather  the  offsprings 
of  a  distempered  brain,  than  works  of  humor. 

It  is  indeed  much  easier  to  describe  what  is  not  humor, 
than  what  is ;  and  very  difficult  to  define  it  otherwise  than 
as  Cowley  has  done  wit,  by  negatives.  Were  I  to  give 
my  own  notions  of  it,  I  would  deliver  them  after  Plato's 


78  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

manner,  in  a  kind  of  allegory,  and  by  supposing  Humor 
to  be  a  person,  deduce  to  him  all  his  qualifications,  accord- 
ing to  the  following  genealogy.  Truth  was  the  founder 
of  the  family,  and  the  father  of  Good  Sense.  Good  Sense 
was  the  father  of  Wit,  who  married  a  lady  of  a  collateral 
line  called  Mirth,  by  whom  he  had  issue  Humor.  Humor 
therefore  being  the  youngest  of  this  illustrious  family,  and 
descended  from  parents  of  such  different  dispositions,  is 
very  various  and  unequal  in  his  temper;  sometimes  you 
see  him  putting  on  grave  looks  and  a  solemn  habit,  some- 
times airy  in  his  behavior,  and  fantastic  in  his  dress: 
insomuch  that  at  different  times  he  appears  as  serious  as  a 
judge,  and  as  jocular  as  a  Merry- Andrew.  But  as  he  has 
a  great  deal  of  the  mother  in  his  constitution,  whatever 
mood  he  is  in,  he  never  fails  to  make  his  company  laugh. 

But  since  there  is  an  impostor  abroad,  who  takes  upon 
him  the  name  of  this  young  gentleman,  and  would  will- 
ingly pass  for  him  in  the  world;  to  the  end  that  well- 
meaning  persons  may  not  be  imposed  upon  by  cheats,  I 
would  desire  my  readers,  when  they  meet  with  this  pre- 
tender, to  look  into  his  parentage,  and  to  examine  him 
strictly,  whether  or  no  he  be  remotely  allied  to  Truth,  and 
lineally  descended  from  Good  Sense;  if  not,  they  may  con- 
clude him  a  counterfeit.  They  may  likewise  distinguish 
him  by  a  loud  and  excessive  laughter,  in  which  he  seldom 
gets  his  company  to  join  with  him.  For  as  True  Humor 
generally  looks  serious,  while  everybody  laughs  about  him ; 
False  Humor  is  always  laughing,  whilst  everybody  about 
him  looks  serious.  I  shall  only  add,  if  he  has  not  in  him 
a  mixture  of  both  parents,  that  is,  if  he  would  pass  for 
the  offspring  of  Wit  without  Mirth,  or  Mirth  without  Wit, 
you  may  conclude  him  to  be  altogether  spurious,  and  a 
cheat. 

The  impostor  of  whom  I  am  speaking,  descends  origi- 
nally from  Falsehood,  who  was  the  mother  of  Nonsense, 
who  was  brought  to  bed  of  a  son  called  Frenzy,  who 
married  one  of  the  daughters  of  Folly,  commonly  known 
by  the  name  of  Laughter,  on  whom  he  begot  that  mon- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  19 

strous  infant  of  which  I  have  been  here  speaking.  I 
shall  set  down  at  length  the  genealogical  table  of  False 
Humor,  and,  at  the  same  time,  place  under  it  the  gene- 
alogy of  True  Humor,  that  the  reader  may  at  one  view 
behold  their  different  pedigrees  and  relations. 

Falsehood. 
Nonsense. 

Frenzy. ^Laughter. 

False  Humor. 

Truth. 
Good  Sense. 

Wit. Mirth. 

Humor. 

I  might  extend  the  allegory,  by  mentioning  several  of  the 
children  of  False  Humor,  who  are  more  in  number  than 
the  sands  of  the  sea,  and  might  in  particular  enumerate 
the  many  sons  and  daughters  which  he  has  begot  in  this 
island.  But  as  this  would  be  a  very  invidious  task,  I 
shall  only  observe  in  general,  that  False  Humor  differs 
from  the  True,  as  a  monkey  does  from  a  man. 

First  of  all,  he  is  exceedingly  given  to  little  apish  tricks 
and  buffooneries. 

Secondly,  he  so  much  delights  in  mimicry,  that  it  is  all 
one  to  him  whether  he  exposes  by  it  vice  and  folly,  luxury 
and  avarice;  or,  on  the  contrary,  virtue  and  wisdom,  pain 
and  poverty. 

Thirdly,  he  is  wonderfully  unlucky,  insomuch  that  he 
will  bite  the  hand  that  feeds  him,  and  endeavor  to  ridicule 
both  friends  and  foes  indifferently.  For  having  but  small 
talents,  he  must  be  merry  where  he  can,  not  where  he 
should. 

Fourthly,  being  entirely  void  of  reason,  he  pursues  no 
point  either  of  morality  or  instruction,  but  is  ludicrous 
only  for  the  sake  of  being  so. 

Fifthly,  being  incapable  of  anything  but  mock  repre- 


80  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

sentations,  his  ridicule  is  always  personal,  and  aimed  at 
the  vicious  man,  or  the  writer;  not  at  the  vice,  or  at  the 
writing. 

I  have  here  only  pointed  at  the  whole  species  of  false 
humorists;  but,  as  one  of  my  principal  designs  in  this 
paper  is  to  beat  down  that  malignant  spirit,  which  dis- 
covers itself  in  the  writings  of  the  present  age,  I  shall 
not  scruple,  for  the  future,  to  single  out  any  of  the 
small  wits,  that  infest  the  world  with  such  compositions 
as  are  ill-natured,  immoral  and  absurd.  This  is  the  only 
exception  which  I  shall  make  to  the  general  rule  I  have 
prescribed  myself,  of  attacking  multitudes:  since  every 
honest  man  ought  to  look  upon  himself  as  in  a  natural 
state  of  war  with  the  libeler  and  lampooner,  and  to  annoy 
them  wherever  they  fall  in  his  way.  This  is  but  retaliat- 
ing upon  them,  and  treating  them  as  they  treat  others. 


[Spectator  No.  6.    Wednesday,  March  7,  lYll.    Steele.] 

Credebant  hoc  grande  nefas,  et  morte  piandum. 
Si  juvenis  vetulo  non  aasurrexerat- 

Tuvenal. 


I  know  no  evil  under  the  sun  so  great  as  the  abuse  of 
the  understanding,  and  yet  there  is  no  one  vice  more 
common.  It  has  diffused  itself  through  both  sexes  and 
all  qualities  of  mankind,  and  there  is  hardly  that  person 
to  be  found  who  is  not  more  concerned  for  the  reputation 
of  wit  and  sense,  than  honesty  and  virtue.  But  this  un- 
happy affectation  of  being  wise  rather  than  honest,  witty 
than  good-natured,  is  the  source  of  most  of  the  ill  habits 
of  life.  Such  false  impressions  are  owing  to  the  aban- 
doned writings  of  men  of  wit,  and  the  awkward  imitation 
of  the  rest  of  mankind. 

*"  'Twas  impious  then   (so  much  was  age  revered) 

For  youth  to  keep  their  seats  when  an  old  man  appeared." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  81 

Eor  this  reason,  Sir  Eoger  was  saying  last  night  that  he 
was  of  opinion  that  none  but  men  of  fine  parts  deserve 
to  be  hanged.  The  reflections  of  such  men  are  so  delicate 
upon  all  occurrences  which  they  are  concerned  in,  that 
they  should  be  exposed  to  more  than  ordinary  infamy 
and  punishment  for  offending  against  such  quick  admoni- 
tions as  their  own  souls  give  them,  and  blunting  the  fine 
edge  of  their  minds  in  such  a  manner  that  they  are 
no  more  shocked  at  vice  and  folly  than  men  of  slower 
capacities.  There  is  no  greater  monster  in  being  than 
a  very  ill  man  of  great  parts.  He  lives  like  a  man  in  a 
palsy,  with  one  side  of  him  dead.  While  perhaps  he  en- 
joys the  satisfaction  of  luxury,  of  wealth,  of  ambition,  he 
has  lost  the  taste  of  good-will,  of  friendship,  of  innocence. 
Scarecrow,  the  beggar  in  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,  who  dis- 
abled himself  in  his  right  leg  and  asks  alms  all  day  to 
get  himself  a  warm  supper  at  night,  is  not  half  so  despic- 
able a  wretch  as  such  a  man  of  sense.  The  beggar  has 
no  relish  above  sensations;  he  finds  rest  more  agreeable 
than  motion,  and  while  he  has  a  warm  fire,  never  reflects 
that  he  deserves  to  be  whipped. 

"Every  man  who  terminates  his  satisfaction  and  enjoy- 
ments within  the  supply  of  his  own  necessities  and  pas- 
sions, is,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "in  my  eye,  as  poor  a  rogue  as 
Scarecrow.  But,"  continued  he,  "for  the  loss  of  public 
and  private  virtue  we  are  beholden  to  your  men  of  fine 
parts,  forsooth;  it  is  with  them  no  matter  what  is  done, 
so  it  is  done  with  an  air.  But  to  me,  who  am  so  whim- 
sical in  a  corrupt  age  as  to  act  according  to  nature  and 
reason,  a  selfish  man  in  the  most  shining  circumstance 
and  equipage  appears  in  the  same  condition  with  the 
fellow  above-mentioned,  but  more  contemptible  in  pro- 
portion to  what  more  he  robs  the  public  of  and  enjoys 
above  him.  I  lay  it  down  therefore  for  a  rule,  that  the 
whole  man  is  to  move  together;  that  every  action  of  any 
importance  is  to  have  a  prospect  of  public  good;  and 
that  the  general  tendency  of  our  indifferent  actions  ought 
to  be  agreeable  to  the  dictates  of  reason,  of  religion,  of 


82  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

good-breeding:  without  this,  a  man,  as  I  have  before 
hinted,  is  hopping  instead  of  walking;  he  is  not  in  his 
entire  and  proper  motion." 

While  the  honest  knight  was  thus  bewildering  himself 
in  good  starts,  I  looked  intentively  upon  him,  which 
made  him,  I  thought,  collect  his  mind  a  little.  ^What  I 
aim  at,"  says  he,  "is  to  represent  that  I  am  of  opinion, 
to  polish  our  understandings  and  neglect  our  manners  is 
of  all  things  the  most  inexcusable.  Reason  should  govern 
passion,  but  instead  of  that,  you  see,  it  is  often  sub- 
servient to  it;  and  as  unaccountable  as  one  would  think 
it,  a  wise  man  is  not  always  a  good  man." 

This  degeneracy  is  not  only  the  guilt  of  particular 
persons,  but  also  at  some  times  of  a  whole  people;  and 
perhaps  it  may  appear  upon  examination  that  the  most 
polite  ages  are  the  least  virtuous.  This  may  be  attibuted 
to  the  folly  of  admitting  wit  and  learning  as  merit  in 
themselves,  without  considering  the  application  of  them. 
By  this  means  it  becomes  a  rule  not  so  much  to  regard 
what  we  do,  as  how  we  do  it.  But  this  false  beauty  will 
not  pass  upon  men  of  honest  minds  and  true  taste.  Sir 
Richard  Blackmore  says,  with  as  much  good  sense  as 
virtue:  "It  is  a  mighty  dishonor  and  shame  to  employ 
excellent  faculties  and  abundance  of  wit,  to  humor  and 
please  men  in  their  vices  and  follies.  The  great  Enemy 
of  Mankind,  notwithstanding  his  wit  and  angelic  faculties, 
is  the  most  odious  being  in  the  whole  creation."  He  goes 
on  soon  after  to  say,  very  generously,  that  he  undertook 
writing  of  his  poem  "to  rescue  the  Muses,  to  restore  them 
to  their  sweet  and  chaste  mansions,  and  to  engage  them 
in  an  employment  suitable  to  their  dignity."  This  cer- 
tainly ought  to  be  the  purpose  of  every  man  who  appears 
in  public,  and  whoever  does  not  proceed  upon  that  foun- 
dation, injures  his  country  as  fast  as  he  succeeds  in 
his  studies.  When  modesty  ceases  to  be  the  chief  orna- 
ment of  one  sex  and  integrity  of  the  other,  society  is 
upon  a  wrong  basis,  and  we  shall  be  ever  after  without 
rules  to  guide  our  judgment  in  what  is  really  becoming 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  83 

and  ornamental.  Nature  and  reason  direct  one  thing, 
passion  and  humor  another.  To  follow  the  dictates  of 
these  two  latter,  is  going  into  a  road  that  is  both  endless 
and  intricate;  when  we  pursue  the  other,  our  passage 
is  delightful,  and  what  we  aim  at  easily  attainable. 

I  do  not  doubt  but  England  is  at  present  as  polite  a 
nation  as  any  in  the  world;  but  any  man  who  thinks  can 
easily  see  that  the  affectation  of  being  gay  and  in  fashion 
has  very  near  eaten  up  our  good  sense  and  our  religion. 
Is  there  anything  so  just,  as  that  mode  and  gallantry 
should  be  built  upon  exerting  ourselves  in  what  is  proper 
and  agreeable  to  the  institutions  of  justice  and  piety 
among  us?  And  yet  is  there  anything  more  common, 
than  that  we  run  in  perfect  contradiction  to  them?  All 
which  is  supported  by  no  other  pretension  than  that  it  is 
done  with  what  we  call  a  good  grace. 

Nothing  ought  to  be  held  laudable,  or  becoming,  but 
what  nature  itself  should  prompt  us  to  think  so.  Respect 
to  all  kind  of  superiors  is  founded,  methinks,  upon  in- 
stinct; and  yet  what  is  so  ridiculous  as  age?  I  make  this 
abrupt  transition  to  the  mention  of  this  vice  more  than 
any  other,  in  order  to  introduce  a  little  story,  which  I 
think  a  pretty  instance  that  the  most  polite  age  is  in 
danger  of  being  the  most  vicious. 

It  happened  at  Athens,  during  a  public  representation 
of  some  play  exhibited  in  honor  of  the  commonwealth, 
that  an  old  gentleman  came  too  late  for  a  place  suitable 
to  his  age  and  quality.  Many  of  the  young  gentlemen 
who  observe  the  difficulty  and  confusion  he  was  in,  made 
signs  to  him  that  they  would  accommodate  him  if  he 
came  where  they  sat.  The  good  man  bustled  through  the 
crowd  accordingly ;  but  when  he  came  to  the  seats  to  which 
he  was  invited,  the  jest  was  to  sit  close  and  expose  him, 
as  he  stood  out  of  countenance,  to  the  whole  audience. 
The  frolic  went  round  all  the  Athenian  benches.  But 
on  those  occasions  there  were  also  particular  spaces  as- 
signed for  foreigners.  When  the  good  man  skulked  to- 
ward the  boxes  appointed  for  the  Lacedemonians,  that 


84  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

honest  people,  more  virtuous  than  polite,  rose  up  all  to 
a  man,  and  with  the  greatest  respect  received  him  among 
them.  The  Athenians  being  suddenly  touched  with  a 
sense  of  the  Spartan  virtue  and  their  own  degeneracy, 
gave  a  thunder  of  applause;  and  the  old  man  cried  out, 
"The  Athenians  understand  what  is  good,  but  the  Lacede- 
monians practise  it." 


[Spectator  No.  9.     Saturday,  March  10,  1710-11. 
Addison.] 

^Tigris  agit  rabida  cum  tigride  pacem 

Perpetuam,  saevis  inter  se  convenit  ursis.^ 

— Juv.  Sat.  XV.  163. 

Man  is  said  to  be  a  sociable  animal,  and,  as  an  instance 
of  it,  we  may  observe  that  we  take  all  occasions  and 
pretensions  of  forming  ourselves  into  those  little  nocturnal 
assemblies,  which  are  commonly  known  by  the  name  of 
clubs.  When  a  set  of  men  find  themselves  agree  in  any 
particular,  though  never  so  trivial,  they  establish  them- 
selves into  a  kind  of  fraternity,  and  meet  once  or  twice 
a  week  upon  the  account  of  such  a  fantastic  resemblance. 
I  know  a  considerable  market-town  in  which  there  was 
a  club  of  fat  men,  that  did  not  come  together  (as  you  may 
well  suppose)  to  entertain  one  another  with  sprightliness 
and  wit,  but  to  keep  one  another  in  countenance.  The 
room  where  the  club  met  was  something  of  the  largest, 
and  had  two  entrances;  the  one  by  a  door  of  moderate 
size,  and  the  other  by  a  pair  of  folding  doors.  If  a  candi- 
date for  this  corpulent  club  could  make  his  entrance 
through  the  first,  he  was  looked  upon  as  unqualified;  but 
if  he  stuck  in  the  passage,  and  could  not  force  his  way 
through  it,  the  folding  doors  were  immediately  thrown 
open  for  his  reception,  and  he  was  saluted  as  a  brother. 

'  Tiger  with  tiger,   bear  with  bear,   you'll  find 
In  leagues  offensive  and  defensive  join'd. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  85 

I  have  heard  that  this  club,  though  it  consisted  but  of 
fifteen  persons,  weighed  above  three  ton. 

In  opposition  to  this  society,  there  sprung  up  another 
composed  of  scarecrows  and  skeletons,  who,  being  very- 
meager  and  envious,  did  all  they  could  to  thwart  the  de- 
signs of  their  bulky  brethren,  whom  they  represented  as 
men  of  dangerous  principles,  till  at  length  they  worked 
them  out  of  the  favor  of  the  people,  and  consequently  out 
of  the  magistracy.  These  factions  tore  the  corporation 
in  pieces  for  several  years,  till  at  length  they  came  to  this 
accommodation:  that  the  two  bailiffs  of  the  town  should 
be  annually  chosen  out  of  the  two  clubs;  by  which  means 
the  principal  magistrates  are  at  this  day  coupled  like 
rabbits,  one  fat  and  one  lean. 

Every  one  has  heard  of  the  club,  or  rather  the  con- 
federacy, of  the  Kings.  This  grand  alliance  was  formed 
a  little  after  the  return  of  King  Charles  the  Second,  and 
admitted  into  it  men  of  all  qualities  and  professions,  pro- 
vided they  agreed  in  this  surname  of  King,  which,  as 
they  imagined,  sufficiently  declared  the  owners  of  it  to 
be  altogether  untainted  with  republican  and  anti-mon- 
archical principles. 

A  Christian  name  has  likewise  been  often  used  as  a 
badge  of  distinction,  and  made  the  occasion  of  a  club. 
That  of  the  George's  which  used  to  meet  at  the  sign  of  the 
George  on  St.  George's  day,  and  swear,  "Before  George,'^ 
is  still  fresh  in  every  one's  memory. 

There  are  at  present  in  several  parts  of  this  city  what 
they  call  street  clubs,  in  which  the  chief  inhabitants  of 
the  street  converse  together  every  night.  I  remember, 
upon  my  inquiring  after  lodgings  in  Ormond  Street,  the 
landlord,  to  recommend  that  quarter  of  the  town,  told  me 
there  was  at  that  time  a  very  good  club  in  it;  he  also 
told  me,  upon  further  discourse  with  him,  that  two  or 
three  noisy  country  squires,  who  were  settled  there  the 
year  before,  had  conisderably  sunk  the  price  of  house- 
rent;  and  that  the  club   (to  prevent  the  like  inconven- 


86  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

iences  for  the  future)  had  thoughts  of  taking  every  house 
that  became  vacant  into  their  own  hands,  till  they  had 
found  a  tenant  for  it  of  a  sociable  nature  and  good 
conversation. 

The  Hum-Drum  club,  of  which  I  was  formerly  an 
unworthy  member,  was  made  up  of  very  honest  gentle- 
men of  peaceable  dispositions,  that  used  to  sit  together, 
smoke  their  pipes,  and  say  nothing  till  midnight.  The 
Mum  club  (as  I  am  informed)  is  an  institution  of  the 
same  nature,  and  as  great  an  enemy  to  noise. 

After  these  two  innocent  societies,  I  cannot  forbear 
mentioning  a  very  mischievous  one,  that  was  erected  in 
the  reign  of  King  Charles  the  Second:  I  mean  the  club 
of  Duellists,  in  which  none  was  to  be  admitted  that  had 
not  fought  his  man.  The  president  of  it  was  said  to 
have  killed  half-a-dozen  in  single  combat;  and,  as  for 
the  other  members,  they  took  their  seats  according  to 
the  number  of  their  slain.  There  was  likewise  a  side- 
table,  for  such  as  had  only  drawn  blood,  and  shown  a 
laudable  ambition  of  taking  the  first  opportunity  to 
qualify  themselves  for  the  first  table.  This  club,  consist- 
ing only  of  men  of  honor,  did  not  continue  long,  most  of 
the  members  of  it  being  put  to  the  sword,  or  hanged,  a 
little  after  its  institution. 

Our  modern  celebrated  clubs  are  founded  upon  eating 
and  drinking,  which  are  points  wherein  most  men  agree, 
and  in  which  the  learned  and  illiterate,  the  dull  and  the 
airy,  the  philosopher  and  the  buffoon,  can  all  of  them  bear 
a  part.  The  Kit-cat^  itself  is  said  to  have  taken  its 
original  from  a  mutton-pie.    The  Beef-steak  2  and  October 

^  This  club  took  its  name  from  Christopher  Cat,  a  maker  of 
mutton  pies ;  it  was  originally  formed  in  Shire  Lane,  for  a  little 
free  evening  conversation,  about  the  time  of  the  trial  of  the 
seven  bishops ;  in  Queen  Anne's  reign  the  club  consisted  of  numer- 
ous peers  and  gentry  who  were  firm  friends  to  the  Hanoverian 
succession. 

2  Of  this  club,  it  is  said,  that  Mrs.  Woflangton,  the  only  woman 
in  it,  was  president ;  Richard  Estcourt,  the  comedian,  was  their 
providore,  and,  as  an  honorable  badge  of  his  office,  wore  a  small 
gridiron  of  gold  hung  round  his  neck  with  a  green  silk  riband. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  87 

clubs  *  are  neither  of  them  averse  to  eating  and  drinking, 
if  we  may  form  a  judgment  of  them  from  their  respective 
titles. 

When  men  are  thus  knit  together  by  a  love  of  society, 
not  a  spirit  of  faction,  and  do  not  meet  to  censure  or 
annoy  those  that  are  absent,  but  to  enjoy  one  another; 
when  they  are  thus  combined  for  their  own  improvement, 
or  for  the  good  of  others,  or  at  least  to  relax  themselves 
from  the  business  of  the  day,  by  an  innocent  and  cheerful 
conversation,  there  may  be  something  very  useful  in  these 
little  institutions  and  establishments. 

I  cannot  forbear  concluding  this  paper  with  a  scheme 
of  laws  that  I  met  with  upon  a  wall  in  a  little  alehouse. 
How  I  came  thither  I  may  inform  my  reader  at  a  more 
convenient  time.  These  laws  were  enacted  by  a  knot  of 
artisans  and  mechanics,  who  used  to  meet  every  night; 
and,  as  there  is  something  in  them  which  gives  us  a 
pretty  picture  of  low  life,  I  shall  transcribe  them  word 
for  word. 

ETJLES 

To  he  observed  in  the  Two-penny  cluh,  erected  in  this 
place  for  the  preservation  of  friendship  and  good 
neighborhood, 

I.  Every  member  at  his  first  coming  in  shall  lay  down 
his  two-pence. 

II.  Every  member  shall  fill  his  pipe  out  of  his  own  box. 

III.  If  any  member  absents  himself,  he  shall  forfeit  a 
penny  for  the  use  of  the  club,  unless  in  case  of  sickness 
or  imprisonment. 

IV.  If  any  member  swears  or  curses,  his  neighbor  may 
give  him  a  kick  upon  the  shins. 

V.  If  any  member  tells  stories  in  the  club  that  are  not 
true,  he  shall  forfeit  for  every  third  lie  a  haKpenny. 

^  The  October  Club  was  held  at  the  Bell  Tavern,  King  Street, 
Westminster,  and  chiefly  consisted  of  Tory  squires,  who  drank 
perdition  to  all  foreigners  in  draughts  of  October  ale. 


88  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

VI.  If  any  member  strikes  another  wrongfully,  he  shall 
pay  his  club  for  him. 

VII.  If  any  member  brings  his  wife  into  the  club,  he 
shall  pay  for  whatever  she  drinks  or  smokes. 

VIII.  If  any  member's  wife  comes  to  fetch  him  home 
from  the  club,  she  shall  speak  to  him  without  the  door. 

IX.  If  any  member  calls  another  a  cuckold,  he  shall 
be  turned  out  of  the  club. 

X.  None  shall  be  admitted  into  the  club  that  is  of  the 
same  trade  with  any  member  of  it. 

XI.  None  of  the  club  shall  have  his  clothes  or  shoes 
made  or  mended,  but  by  a  brother  member. 

XII.  No  non-juror  shall  be  capable  of  being  a  member. 

The  morality  of  this  little  club  is  guarded  by  such 
wholesome  laws  and  penalties,  that  I  question  not  but  my 
reader  will  be  as  well  pleased  with  them,  as  he  would 
have  been  with  the  Leges  Convivales  of  Ben  Jonson,  the 
regulations  of  an  old  Roman  club  cited  by  Lipsius,  or  the 
rules  of  a  Symposium  in  an  ancient  Greek  author.      C. 


[Spectator  No.  17.     Tuesday,  March  20,  1710-11. 
Steele.] 

— ^Tetrum   ante   omnia  vultum.* 

— Juv.  X.  191. 

Since  our  persons  are  not  of  our  own  making,  when  they 
are  such  as  appear  defective  or  uncomely,  it  is,  methinks, 
an  honest  and  laudable  fortitude  to  dare  to  be  ugly;  at 
least  to  keep  ourselves  from  being  abashed  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  imperfections  which  we  cannot  help,  and  in 
which  there  is  no  guilt.  I  would  not  defend  a  haggard 
beau,  for  passing  away  much  time  at  a  glass,  and  giving 
softnesses  and  languishing  graces  to  deformity,  all  I  in- 
tend is,  that  we  ought  to  be  contented  with  our  counte- 


-A  visage  rough, 


Deformed,  unfeatured. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  89 

nance  and  shape,  so  far  as  never  to  give  ourselves  an 
uneasy  reflection  on  that  subject.  It  is  to  the  ordinary 
people,  who  are  not  accustomed  to  make  very  proper  re- 
marks on  any  occasion,  matter  of  great  jest,  if  a  man 
enters  with  a  prominent  pair  of  shoulders  into  an  as- 
sembly, or  is  distinguished  by  an  expansion  of  mouth,  or 
obliquity  of  aspect.  It  is  happy  for  a  man  that  has  any 
of  these  oddnesses  about  him,  if  he  can  be  as  merry  upon 
himself,  as  others  are  apt  to  be  upon  that  occasion."*  When 
he  can  possess  himseK  with  such  a  cheerfulness,  women 
and  children,  who  were  at  first  frightened  at  him,  will 
afterwards  be  as  much  pleased  with  him.  As  it  is  bar- 
barous in  others  to  rally  him  for  natural  defects,  it  is 
extremely  agreeable  when  he  can  jest  upon  himself  for 
them. 

Madame  Maintenon's  first  husband  2  was  a  hero  in  this 
kind,  and  has  drawn  many  pleasantries  from  the  irregu- 
larity of  his  shape,  which  he  describes  as  very  much  re- 
sembling the  letter  Z.  He  diverts  himself  likewise  by 
representing  to  his  reader  the  make  of  an  engine  and 
pulley,  with  which  he  used  to  take  off  his  hat.  When 
there  happens  to  be  anything  ridiculous  in  a  visage,  and 
the  owner  of  it  thinks  it  an  aspect  of  dignity,  he  must  be 
of  very  great  quality  to  be  exempt  from  raillery.  The 
best  expedient  therefore  is  to  be  pleasant  upon  himseK. 
Prince  Harry  and  Falstaff,  in  Shakespeare,  have  carried 
the  ridicule  upon  fat  and  lean  as  far  as  it  will  go.  Fal- 
staff is  humorously  called  woolsack,  bed-pressed,  and  hill 
of  flesh;  Harry,  a  starveling,  an  elves-skin,  a  sheath,  a 
bow-case,  and  a  tuck.  There  is,  in  several  incidents  of 
the  conversation  between  them,  the  jest  still  kept  up 
upon  the  person.  Great  tenderness  and  sensibility  in 
this  point  is  one  of  the  greatest  weaknesses  of  seK-love. 
For  my  own  part,  I  am  a  little  unhappy  in  the  mold  of 


*  And  through  the  whole  host,  from  a  woman's  longing  for 
the  prey  and  spoils  with  heedless  ardor  roamed. — Vir.  ^n.  xi.  782. 

-  Abbe  Paul  Scarron,  the  burlesque  writer,  who  was  deformed 
from  his  birth. 


90  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

my  face,  whicli  is  not  quite  so  long  as  it  is  broad. 
Whether  this  might  not  partly  arise  from  my  opening  my 
mouth  much  seldomer  than  other  people,  and  by  conse- 
quence not  so  much  lengthening  the  fibers  of  my  visage, 
I  am  not  at  leisure  to  determine.  However  it  be,  I  have 
been  often  put  out  of  countenance  by  the  shortness  of 
my  face,  and  was  formerly  at  great  pains  in  concealing  it 
by  wearing  a  periwig  with  a  high  foretop,  and  letting  my 
beard  grow.  But  now  I  have  thoroughly  got  over  this 
delicacy,  and  could  be  contented  it  were  much  shorter, 
provided  it  might  qualify  me  for  a  member  of  the  merry 
club  which  the  following  letter  gives  me  an  account  of. 
I  have  received  it  from  Oxford;  and  as  it  abounds  with 
the  spirit  of  mirth  and  good-humor  which  is  natural  to 
that  place,  I  shall  set  it  down  word  for  word  as  it  came 
to  me. 

"Most  Profound  Sir, 

"Having  been  very  well  entertained,  in  the  last  of  your 
speculations  that  I  have  yet  seen,  by  your  specimen  upon 
clubs,  which  I  therefore  hope  you  will  continue,  I  shall 
take  the  liberty  to  furnish  you  with  a  brief  account  of 
such  a  one  as  perhaps  you  have  not  seen  in  all  your 
travels,  unless  it  was  your  fortune  to  touch  upon  some  of 
the  woody  parts  of  the  African  continent,  in  your  voyage 
to  or  from  Grand  Cairo.  There  have  arose  in  this  uni- 
versity (long  since  you  left  us  without  saying  anything) 
several  of  these  inferior  hebdomadal  societies,  as  the 
Punning  Club,  the  Witty  Club,  and,  amongst  the  rest, 
the  Handsome  Club ;  as  a  burlesque  upon  which,  a  certain 
merry  species,  that  seem  to  have  come  into  the  world  in 
masquerade,  for  some  years  last  past  have  associated 
themselves  together,  and  assumed  the  name  of  the  Ugly 
Club.  This  ill-favored  fraternity  consists  of  a  president 
and  twelve  fellows;  the  choice  of  which  is  not  confined 
by  patent  to  any  particular  foundation  (as  St.  John's 
men  would  have  the  world  believe,  and  have  therefore 
erected  a  separate  society  within  themselves),  but  liberty 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  91 

is  left  to  elect  from  any  school  in  Great  Britain,  provided 
the  candidates  be  within  the  rules  of  the  club,  as  set 
forth  in  a  table,  entitled  The  Act  of  Deformity;  a  clause 
or  two  of  which  I  shall  transmit  to  you: — 

^^I.  That  no  person  whatsoever  shall  be  admitted  with- 
out a  visible  queerity  in  his  aspect,  or  peculiar  cast  of 
countenance;  of  which  the  president  and  officers  for  the 
time  being  are  to  determine,  and  the  president  to  have 
the  casting  voice. 

"II.  That  a  singular  regard  be  had,  upon  examination, 
to  the  biggosity  of  the  gentlemen  that  offer  themselves  as 
founder's  kinsmen;  or  to  the  obliquity  of  their  figure,  in 
what  sort  soever. 

"III.  That  if  the  quantity  of  any  man's  nos6  be  emi- 
nently miscalculated,  whether  as  to  length  or  breadth, 
he  shall  have  a  just  pretence  to  be  elected. 

^Xastly,  That  if  there  shall  be  two  or  more  competitors 
for  the  same  vacancy,  coeteris  paribus ^  he  that  has  the 
thickest  skin  to  have  the  preference. 

"Every  fresh  member,  upon  his  first  night,  is  to  enter- 
tain the  company  with  a  dish  of  cod-fish,  and  a  speech  in 
praise  of  -^sop ;  ^  whose  portraiture  they  have  in  full 
proportion,  or  rather  disproportion,  over  the  chimney; 
and  their  design  is,  as  soon  as  their  funds  are  sufficient, 
to  purchase  the  heads  of  Thersites,  Duns  Scotus,  Scarron, 
Hudibras,  and  the  old  gentleman  in  Oldham,  with  all  the 
celebrated  ill  faces  of  antiquity,  as  furniture  for  the  club- 
room. 

"As  they  have  always  been  professed  admirers  of  the 
other  sex,  so  they  unanimously  declare  that  they  will  give 
all  possible  encouragement  to  such  as  will  take  the  bene- 
fit of  the  statute,  though  none  yet  have  appeared  to  do  it. 

"The  worthy  president,  who  is  their  most  devoted  cham- 
pion, has  lately  shown  me  two  copies  of  verses,  composed 
by  a  gentleman  of  his  society:  the  first,  a  congratulatory 
ode,  inscribed  to  Mrs.  Touchwood,  upon  the  loss  of  her 

^  iEsop  was  said  to  be  "the  most  deformed  of  all  men  of  his 
age." 


92  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

two  fore-teeth;  the  other,  a  panegyric  upon  Mrs.  And- 
iron's left  shoulder.  Mrs.  Vizard  (he  says),  since  the 
small-pox,  is  grown  tolerably  ugly,  and  a  top  toast  in  the 
club;  but  I  never  heard  him  so  lavish  of  his  fine  things, 
as  upon  old  Nell  Trot,  who  constantly  officiates  at  their 
table;  her  he  even  adores  and  extols  as  the  very  coun- 
terpart of  Mother  Shipton;  in  short,  Nell  (says  he)  is  one 
of  the  extraordinary  works  of  nature;  but  as  for  com- 
plexion, shape,  and  features,  so  valued  by  others,  they  are 
all  mere  outside  and  symmetry,  which  is  his  aversion. 
Give  me  leave  to  add,  that  the  president  is  a  facetious, 
pleasant  gentleman,  and  never  more  so  than  when  he  has 
got  (as  he  calls  them)  his  dear  mummers  about  him;  and 
he  often  protests  it  does  him  good  to  meet  a  fellow  with 
a  right  genuine  grimace  in  his  air  (which  is  so  agreeable 
in  the  generality  of  the  French  nation) ;  and,  as  an  in- 
stance of  his  sincerity  in  this  particular,  he  gave  me  a 
sight  of  a  list  in  his  pocket-book  of  all  of  this  class  who 
for  these  five  years  have  fallen  under  his  observation,  with 
himseK  at  the  head  of  them,  and  in  the  rear  (as  one  of 
a  promising  and  improving  aspect), 

"Sir,  your  obliged  and  humble  servant, 

"Alex.   Carbuncle." 
E. 
Oxford,  March  12,  1710. 


[Spectator  No.  18.     Wednesday,  March  21,  1710-11. 
Addison.] 

— Equitis  quoque  jam  migravlt  ab  aure  voluptas 
Omnis  ad  incertos  oculos  et  gaudia  vana.* 

—Hob. 

It  is  my  design  in  this  paper  to  deliver  down  to  pos- 
terity a  faithful  account  of  the  Italian  Opera,  and  of  the 
gradual  progress  which  it  has  made  upon  the  English 

^  But  now  our  nobles  too  are  fops  and  vain, 
Neglect  the  sense,  but  love  the  painted  scene. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  93 

stage:  For  there  is  no  question  but  our  great  grandchil- 
dren will  be  very  curious  to  know  the  reason  why  their 
forefathers  used  to  sit  together  like  an  audience  of  for- 
eigners in  their  own  country,  and  to  hear  whole  plays 
acted  before  them  in  a  tongue  which  they  did  not  under- 
stand. 

Arsinoe  ^  was  the  first  opera  that  gave  us  a  taste  of 
Italian  music.  The  great  success  this  opera  met  with, 
produced  some  attempts  of  forming  pieces  upon  Italian 
plans,  which  should  give  a  more  natural  and  reasonable 
entertainment  than  what  can  be  met  with  in  the  elab- 
orate trifles  of  that  nation.  This  alarmed  the  poetasters 
and  fiddlers  of  the  town,  who  were  used  to  deal  in  a  more 
ordinary  kind  of  ware;  and  therefore  laid  down  an  estab- 
lished rule,  which  is  received  as  such  to  this  day,  That 
nothing  is  capable  of  heing  well  set  to  music,  that  is  not 
nonsense. 

This  maxim  was  no  sooner  received,  but  we  immedi- 
ately fell  to  translating  the  Italian  operas;  and  as  there 
was  no  great  danger  of  hurting  the  sense  of  those  extraor- 
dinary pieces,  our  authors  would  often  make  words  of 
their  own  which  were  entirely  foreign  to  the  meaning  of 
the  passages  they  pretended  to  translate;  their  chief  care 
being  to  make  the  numbers  of  the  English  verse  answer  to 
those  of  the  Italian,  that  both  of  them  might  go  to  the 
same  tune.     Thus  the  famous  song  in  Camilla, 

"Barbara  si  t'  intendo,"  &c. 
''Barbarous  woman,  yes,  I  know  your  meaning," 

which  expresses  the  resentments  of  an  angry  lover,  was 
translated  into  that  English  lamentation — 

"Frail  are  a  lover's  hopes,"  &c. 

And  it  was  pleasant  enough  to  see  the  most  refined  per- 
sons of  the  British  nation  dying  away  and  languishing  to 

*  Arsinoe,  produced  at  Dniry  Liane  in  1705.  No  doubt  the 
failure  of  his  English  opera  ^'Rosamond'*  gave  to  Addison's  criti- 
cisms upon   Italian  opera  an   additional  bitterness. 


94  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

notes  that  were  filled  with  a  spirit  of  rage  and  indigna- 
tion. It  happened  also  very  frequently,  where  the  sense 
was  rightly  translated,  the  necessary  transposition  of 
words  which  were  drawn  out  of  the  phrase  of  one  tongue 
into  that  of  another,  made  the  music  appear  very  absurd 
in  one  tongue  that  was  very  natural  in  the  other.  I  re- 
member an  Italian  verse  that  ran  thus  word  for  word. 

^'And  turn'd  my  rage  into  pity;" 

which  the  English  for  rhyme  sake  translated, 

''And  into  pity  turn'd  my  rage." 

By  this  means  the  soft  notes  that  were  adapted  to  pity  in 
the  Italian,  fell  upon  the  word  rage  in  the  English;  and 
the  angry  sounds  that  were  turned  to  rage  in  the  orig- 
inal, were  made  to  express  pity  in  the  translation.  It 
oftentimes  happened  likewise,  that  the  finest  notes  in  the 
air  fell  upon  the  most  insignificant  words  in  the  sen- 
tence. I  have  known  the -word  and  pursued  through  the 
whole  gamut,  have  been  entertained  with  many  a  melo- 
dious the,  and  have  heard  the  most  beautiful  graces,  quav- 
vers  and  divisions  bestowed  upon  then,  for,  and  from;  to 
the  eternal  honor  of  our  English  particles. 

The  next  step  to  our  refinement,  was  the  introducing 
of  Italian  actors  into  our  opera;  who  sung  their  parts 
in  their  own  language,  at  the  same  time  that  our  country- 
men performed  theirs  in  our  native  tongue.  The  king 
or  hero  of  the  play  generally  spoke  in  Italian,  and  his 
slaves  answered  him  in  English :  the  lover  frequently  made 
his  court,  and  gained  the  heart  of  his  princess  in  a  lan- 
guage which  she  did  not  understand.  One  would  have 
thought  it  very  difficult  to  have  carried  on  dialogues 
after  this  manner,  without  an  interpreter  between  the 
persons  that  conversed  together;  but  this  was  the  state  of 
the  English  stage  for  about  three  years. 

At  length  the  audience  grew  tired  of  understanding 
half  the  opera,  and  therefore  to  ease  themselves  entirely 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  95 

of  the  fatigue  of  thinking,  have  so  ordered  it  at  present 
that  the  whole  opera  is  performed  in  an  unknown  tongue. 
We  no  longer  understand  the  language  of  our  own  stage; 
insomuch  that  I  have  often  been  afraid,  when  I  have  seen 
our  Italian  performers  chattering  in  the  vehemence  of  ac- 
tion, that  they  have  been  calling  us  names,  and  abusing 
us  among  themselves;  but  I  hope,  since  we  do  put  such 
an  entire  confidence  in  them,  they  will  not  talk  against  us 
before  our  faces,  though  they  may  do  it  with  the  same 
safety  as  if  it  were  behind  our  backs.  In  the  meantime 
I  cannot  forbear  thinking  how  naturally  an  historian, 
who  writes  two  or  three  hundred  years  hence,  and  does 
not  know  the  tastes  of  his  wise  forefathers,  will  make  the 
following  reflection.  In  the  heginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  the  Italian  tongue  was  so  well  understood  in 
England,  that  operas  were  acted  on  the  public  stage  in 
that  language. 

One  scarce  knows  how  to  be  serious  in  the  confutation 
of  an  absurdity  that  shows  itself  at  the  first  sight.  It 
does  not  want  any  great  measure  of  sense  to  see  the  ridi- 
cule of  this  monstrous  practise;  but  what  makes  it  the 
more  astonishing,  it  is  not  the  taste  of  the  rabble,  but  of 
persons  of  the  greatest  politeness,  which  has  established  it. 

If  the  Italians  have  a  genius  for  music  above  the  Eng- 
lish, the  English  have  a  genius  for  other  performances  of 
a  much  higher  nature,  and  capable  of  giving  the  mind  a 
much  nobler  entertainment.  Would  one  think  it  was  pos- 
sible (at  a  time  when  an  author  lived  that  was  able  to 
write  the  Phosdra  and  Hippolitus)  ^  for  a  people  to  be  so 
stupidly  fond  of  the  Italian  opera,  as  scarce  to  give  a 
third  day's  hearing  to  that  admirable  tragedy?  Music  is 
certainly  a  very  agreeable  entertainment,  but  if  it  would 
take  the  entire  possession  of  our  ears,  if  it  would  make 
us  incapable  of  hearing  sense,  if  it  would  exclude  arts  that 
have  a  much  greater  tendency  to  the  refinement  of  hu- 
man nature:  I  must  confess  I  would  allow  it  no  better 

^  The  tragedy  of  Phosdra  and  HippolitiiSy  acted  without  success 
in    1707,    was   written    by   Edmund    Smith. 


96  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

quarter  than  Plato  has  done,  who  banishes  it  out  of  his 
commonwealth. 

At  present,  our  notions  of  music  are  so  very  uncertain, 
that  we  do  not  know  what  it  is  we  like,  only,  in  general, 
we  are  transported  with  anything  that  is  not  English: 
so  if  it  be  of  a  foreign  growth,  let  it  be  Italian,  French, 
or  High-Dutch,  it  is  the  same  thing.  In  short,  our  Eng- 
lish music  is  quite  rooted  out,  and  nothing  yet  planted 
in  its  stead. 

When  a  royal  palace  is  burnt  to  the  ground,  every  man 
is  at  liberty  to  present  his  plan  for  a  new  one ;  and  though 
it  be  but  indifferently  put  together,  it  may  furnish  sev- 
eral hints  that  may  be  of  use  to  a  good  architect.  I  shall 
take  the  same  liberty  in  a  following  paper,  of  giving  my 
opinion  upon  the  subject  of  music,  which  I  shall  lay  down 
only  in  a  problematical  manner  to  be  considered  by  those 
who  are  masters  in  the  art.  C. 


[Spectator  No.  26.    Friday,  March  20,  1711. 
Addison.] 

Pallida  mors  sequo  pulsat  pede  pauperum  tabernas 

Regumqueturres,  0  beate  Sexti. 
Vitae  summa  brevis  spem  nos  vetat  inchoare  longam. 

Jam  te  premet  nox  fabulseque  manes, 
Et  domus  exilis  Plutonia. —  ^ 

—Hob.  1  Od.  iv.  13. 

When  I  am  in  a  serious  humor,  I  very  often  walk  by 
myself  in  Westminster  Abbey;  where  the  gloominess  of 
the  place,  and  the  use  to  which  it  is  applied,  with  the 
solemnity  of  the  building,  and  the  condition  of  the  peo- 
ple who  lie  in  it,  are  apt  to  fill  the  mind  with  a  kind  of 

'  With  equal  foot,  rich   friend,  impartial  fate 
Knocks  at  the  cottage,  and  the  palace  gate  : 
Life's   span   forbids  thee  to   extend   thy   cares, 
And  stretch  thy  hopes  beyond  thy  years  : 
Night   soon  will  seize,  and  you  must  quickly  go 
To   story'd  ghosts,   and   Pluto's  house  below. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  97 

melanclioly,  or  rather  thoughtfulness,  that  is  not  dis- 
agreeable. I  yesterday  passed  a  whole  afternoon  in  the 
churchyard,  the  cloisters,  and  the  church,  amusing  myself 
with  the  tombstones  and  inscriptions  that  I  met  with  in 
those  several  regions  of  the  dead.  Most  of  them  recorded 
nothing  else  of  the  buried  person,  but  that  he  was  born 
upon  one  day,  and  died  upon  another:  the  whole  history 
of  his  life  being  comprehended  in  those  two  circum- 
stances that  are  common  to  all  mankind.  I  could  not  but 
look  upon  these  registers  of  existence,  whether  of  brass 
or  marble,  as  a  kind  of  satire  upon  the  departed  persons; 
who  left  no  other  memorial  of  them,  but  that  they  were 
born,  and  that  they  died.  They  put  me  in  mind  of  sev- 
eral persons  mentioned  in  the  battles  of  heroic  poems,  who 
have  sounding  names  given  them,  for  no  other  reason  but 
that  they  may  be  killed,  and  are  celebrated  for  nothing 
but  being  knocked  on  the  head. 

**  T\avK6p  re  "Mieddvra  re  Oepcn\ox^v  r€." 

HOM. 

**Glaucumque,  Medontaque,  Thersilochumque." 

ViBG. 

"Glaucus,  and  Medon,  and  Thersiloclius." 

The  life  of  these  men  is  finely  described  in  holy  writ 
by  "the  path  of  an  arrow,"  which  is  immediately  closed 
up  and  lost. 

Upon  my  going  into  the  church,  I  entertained  myself 
with  the  digging  of  a  grave;  and  saw  in  every  shovelful 
of  it  that  was  thrown  up,  the  fragment  of  a  bone  or  skull 
intermixed  with  a  kind  of  fresh  mouldering  earth,  that 
some  time  or  other  had  a  place  in  the  composition  of  an 
human  body.  Upon  this  I  began  to  consider  with  my- 
self, what  innumerable  multitudes  of  people  lay  confused 
together  under  the  pavement  of  that  ancient  cathedral; 
how  men  and  women,  friends  and  enemies,  priests  and 
soldiers,  monks  and  prebendaries,  were  crumbled  amongst 
one  another,  and  blended  together  in  the  same  common 


98  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

mass;  how  beauty,  strength,  and  youth,  with  old  age, 
weakness,  and  deformity,  lay  undistinguished  in  the  same 
promiscuous  heap  of  matter. 

After  having  thus  surveyed  this  great  magazine  of 
mortality,  as  it  were  in  the  lump,  I  examined  it  more 
particularly  by  the  accounts  which  I  found  on  several  of 
the  monuments  which  are  raised  in  every  quarter  of  that 
ancient  fabric.  Some  of  them  were  covered  with  such 
extravagant  epitaphs,  that  if  it  were  possible  for  the  dead 
person  to  be  acquainted  with  them,  he  would  blush  at 
the  praises  which  his  friends  have  bestowed  on  him. 
There  are  others  so  excessively  modest,  that  they  deliver 
the  character  of  the  person  departed  in  Greek  or  Hebrew, 
and  by  that  means  are  not  understood  once  in  a  twelve- 
month. In  the  poetical  quarter,  I  found  there  were  poets 
who  had  no  monuments,  and  monuments  which  had  no 
poets.  I  observed,  indeed,  that  the  present  war  had  fiUed 
the  church  with  many  of  these  uninhabited  monuments, 
which  had  been  erected  to  the  memory  of  persons  whose 
bodies  were,  perhaps,  buried  in  the  plains  of  Blenheim, 
or  in  the  bosom  of  the  ocean. 

I  could  not  but  be  very  much  delighted  with  several 
modern  epitaphs,  which  are  written  with  great  elegance 
of  expression  and  justness  of  thought,  and  therefore  do 
honor  to  the  living  as  well  as  to  the  dead.  As  a  for- 
eigner is  very  apt  to  conceive  an  idea  of  the  ignorance  or 
politeness  of  a  nation  from  the  turn  of  their  public  monu- 
ments and  inscriptions,  they  should  be  submitted  to  the 
perusal  of  men  of  learning  and  genius  before  they  are 
put  in  execution.  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel's  monument  has 
very  often  given  me  great  offense.  Instead  of  the  brave, 
rough,  English  admiral,  which  was  the  distinguishing 
character  of  that  plain,  gallant  man,  he  is  represented  on 
his  tomb  by  the  figure  of  a  beau,  dressed  in  a  long  peri- 
wig, and  reposing  himself  upon  velvet  cushions  under  a 
canopy  of  state.  The  inscription  is  answerable  to  the 
monument;  for,  instead  of  celebrating  the  many  remark- 
able actions  he  had  performed  in  the  service  of  his  coun- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  9& 

try,  it  acquaints  us  only  with  the  manner  of  his  death,  in 
which  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  reap  any  honor.  The 
Dutch,  whom  we  are  apt  to  despise  for  want  of  genius^ 
show  an  infinitely  greater  taste  of  antiquity  and  polite- 
ness in  their  buildings  and  works  of  this  nature,  than 
what  we  meet  with  in  those  of  our  own  country.  The 
monuments  of  their  admirals,  which  have  been  erected 
at  the  public  expense,  represent  them  like  themselves,  and 
are  adorned  with  rostral  crowns  and  naval  ornaments^ 
with  beautiful  festoons  of  seaweed,  shells,  and  coral. 

But  to  return  to  our  subject.  I  have  left  the  reposi- 
tory of  our  English  kings  for  the  contemplation  of  an- 
other day,  when  I  shall  find  my  mind  disposed  for  so 
serious  an  amusement.  I  know  that  entertainments  of 
this  nature  are  apt  to  raise  dark  and  dismal  thoughts  in 
timorous  minds  and  gloomy  imaginations;  but  for  my 
own  part,  though  I  am  always  serious,  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is  to  be  melancholy;  and  can  therefore  take  a  view 
of  nature  in  her  deep  and  solemn  scenes,  with  the  same 
pleasure  as  in  her  most  gay  and  delightful  ones.  By 
this  means  I  can  improve  myself  with  those  objects,  which 
others  consider  with  terror.  When  I  look  upon  the  tombs 
of  the  great,  every  emotion  of  envy  dies  in  me;  when  I 
read  the  epitaphs  of  the  beautiful,  every  inordinate  desire 
goes  out;  when  I  meet  with  the  grief  of  parents  upon  a 
tombstone,  my  heart  melts  with  compassion;  when  I  see 
the  tomb  of  the  parents  themselves,  I  consider  the  vanity 
of  grieving  for  those  whom  we  must  quickly  follow. 
When  I  see  kings  lying  by  those  who  deposed  them,  when 
I  consider  rival  wits  placed  side  by  side,  or  the  holy  men 
that  divided  the  world  with  their  contests  and  disputes,  I 
reflect  with  sorrow  and  astonishment  on  the  little  compe- 
titions, factions,  and  debates  of  mankind.  When  I  read 
the  several  dates  of  the  tombs,  of  some  that  died  yester- 
day, and  some  six  hundred  years  ago,  I  consider  that 
great  day  when  we  shall  all  of  us  be  contemporaries,  and 
make  our  appearance  together.  C. 


100  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

[Spectator  No.  30.    Wednesday,  April  4, 1711.    Steele.] 

Si,  Mimnermus  uti  censet,  sine  amore  jocisque 
Nil  est  jucundum;  vivas  in  amore  jocisque.* 

—Hob.  1  Ep.  vi.  65. 

One  common  calamity  makes  men  extremely  affect  each 
other,  though  they  differ  in  every  other  particular.  The 
passion  of  love  is  the  most  general  concern  among  men; 
and  I  am  glad  to  hear  by  my  last  advices  from  Oxford, 
that  there  are  a  set  of  sighers  in  that  university  who  have 
erected  themselves  into  a  society  in  honor  of  that  tender 
passion.  These  gentlemen  are  of  that  sort  of  inamoratos 
who  are  not  so  very  much  lost  to  common  sense  but  that 
they  understand  the  folly  they  are  guilty  of;  and  for  that 
reason  separate  themselves  from  all  other  company,  be- 
cause they  will  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  talking  incoherently, 
without  being  ridiculous  to  any  but  each  other.  When 
a  man  comes  into  the  club,  he  is  not  obliged  to  make  any 
introduction  to  his  discourse,  but  at  once,  as  he  is  seat- 
ing himself  in  his  chair,  speaks  in  the  thread  of  his  own 
thoughts,  "She  gave  me  a  very  obliging  glance;  she  never 
looked  so  well  in  her  life  as  this  evening";  or  the  like 
reflection,  without  regard  to  any  other  member  of  the  so- 
ciety; for  in  this  assembly  they  do  not  meet  to  talk  to 
each  other,  but  every  man  claims  the  full  liberty  of  talk- 
ing to  himself.  Instead  of  snuff-boxes  and  canes,  which 
are  usual  helps  to  discourse  with  other  young  fellows, 
these  have  each  some  piece  of  riband,  a  broken  fan,  or 
an  old  girdle,  which  they  play  with  while  they  talk  of 
the  fair  person  remembered  by  each  respective  token.  Ac- 
cording to  the  representation  of  the  matter  from  my  let- 
ters, the  company  appear  like  so  many  players  rehearsing 
behind  the  scenes:  one  is  sighing  and  lamenting  his  des- 
tiny in  beseeching  terms;  another  declaring  he  will  break 

*  If  nofhing,  as  Mimnermus  strives  to  prove, 
Can   e'er   be   pleasant   without   mirth   and   love, 
Then  live  in  mirth  and   love,   thy   sports  pursue. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  101 

his  chains;  and  another,  in  dumb-show,  striving  to  ex- 
press his  passion  by  his  gesture.  It  is  very  ordinary  in 
the  assembly  for  one  of  a  sudden  to  rise  and  make  a  dis- 
course concerning  his  passion  in  general,  and  describe 
the  temper  of  his  mind  in  such  a  manner,  as  that  the 
whole  company  shall  join  in  the  description  and  feel  the 
force  of  it.  In  this  case,  if  any  man  has  declared  the 
violence  of  his  flame  in  more  pathetic  terms,  he  is  made 
president  for  that  night,  out  of  respect  to  his  superior 
passion. 

We  had  some  years  ago  in  this  town  a  set  of  people 
who  met  and  dressed  like  lovers,  and  were  distinguished 
by  the  name  of  the  Fringe-glove  club;  but  they  were  per- 
sons of  such  moderate  intellects,  even  beiore  they  were 
impaired  by  their  passion,  that  their  irregularities  could 
not  furnish  sufficient  variety  of  folly  to  afford  daily  new 
impertinences;  by  which  means  that  institution  dropped. 
These  fellows  could  express  their  passion  in  nothing  but 
their  dress;  but  the  Oxonians  are  fantastical  now  they 
are  lovers,  in  proportion  to  their  learning  and  understand- 
ing before  they  became  such.  The  thoughts  of  the  an- 
cient poets  on  this  agreeable  frenzy  are  translated  in 
honor  of  some  modern  beauty;  and  Chloris  is  won  to-day 
by  the  same  compliment  that  was  made  to  Lesbia  a  thou- 
sand years  ago.  But  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  the  patron  of 
the  club  is  the  renowned  Don  Quixote.  The  adventures 
of  that  gentle  knight  are  frequently  mentioned  in  the  so- 
ciety, under  the  color  of  laughing  at  the  passion  and  them- 
selves; but  at  the  same  time,  though  they  are  sensible  of 
the  extravagances  of  that  unhappy  warrior,  they  do  not 
observe,  that  to  turn  all  the  reading  of  the  best  and  wisest 
writings  into  rhapsodies  of  love,  is  a  frenzy  no  less  di- 
verting than  that  of  the  aforesaid  accomplished  Spaniard. 
A  gentleman  who,  I  hope,  will  continue  his  correspond- 
ence, is  lately  admitted  into  the  fraternity,  and  sent  me 
the  following  letter : 
"Sir, 

"Since  I  find  you  take  notice  of  clubs,  I  beg  leave  to 


102  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

give  you  an  account  of  one  in  Oxford,  whicli  you  have 
nowhere  mentioned,  and  perhaps  never  heard  of.  We 
distinguish  ourselves  by  the  title  of  the  Amorous  club, 
are  all  votaries  of  Cupid,  and  admirers  of  the  fair  sex. 
The  reason  that  we  are  so  little  known  in  the  world,  is 
the  secrecy  which  we  are  obliged  to  live  under  in  the  uni- 
versity. Our  constitution  runs  counter  to  that  of  the 
place  wherein  we  live:  for  in  love  there  are  no  doctors; 
and  we  all  profess  so  high  a  passion,  that  we  admit  of  no 
graduates  in  it.  Our  presidentship  is  bestowed  accord- 
ing to  the  dignity  of  passion;  our  number  is  unlimited; 
and  our  statutes  are  like  those  of  the  druids,  recorded 
in  our  own  breasts  only,  and  explained  by  the  majority 
of  the  company.  A  mistress,  and  a  poem  in  her  praise, 
will  introduce  any  candidate.  Without  the  latter  no  one 
can  be  admitted;  for  he  that  is  not  in  love  enough  to 
rhyme  is  unqualified  for  our  society.  To  speak  disre- 
spectfully of  any  woman  is  expulsion  from  our  gentle  soci- 
ety. As  we  are  at  present  all  of  us  gownmen,  instead 
of  dueling  when  we  are  rivals,  we  drink  together  the 
health  of  our  mistress.  The  manner  of  doing  this  some- 
times indeed  creates  debates;  on  such  occasions  we  have 
recourse  to  the  rules  of  love  among  the  ancients. 

"Naevia  sex  Cyathis,  septem  Justina  bibatur.'* 

— Maet.  Epig.  i.  72. 
'*  Six  cups  to  Naevia,  to  Justina  seven." 

This  method  of  a  glass  to  every  letter  of  her  name,  occa- 
sioned the  other  night  a  dispute  of  some  warmth.  A 
young  student,  who  is  in  love  with  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Dimple, 
was  so  unreasonable  as  to  begin  her  health  under  the 
name  of  Elizabetha;  which  so  exasperated  the  club,  that 
by  common  consent  we  retrenched  it  to  Betty.  We  look 
upon  a  man  as  no  company  that  does  not  sigh  five  times 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  and  look  upon  a  member  as  very 
absurd  that  is  so  much  himself  as  to  make  a  direct  an- 
swer to  a  question.  In  fine,  the  whole  assembly  is  made 
up  of  absent  men,  that  is,  of  such  persons  as  have  lost 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  103 

their  locality,  and  whose  minds  and  bodies  never  keep 
company  with  one  another.  As  I  am  an  unfortunate 
member  of  this  distracted  society,  you  cannot  expect  a 
very  regular  account  of  it;  for  which  reason  I  hope  you 
will  pardon  me  that  I  so  abruptly  subscribe  myself, 
"Sir,  your  most  obedient  humble  servant, 

"T.  B. 
"I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Albina,  who  has  six  votaries 
in  this  club,  is  one  of  your  readers/' 

K. 

[Spectator  No.  34.    Monday,  April  9,  1711.    Addison.] 

-parcit 


Cognatis  maculis  similis  fera- 

— Juv.  Sat.  XV.  159. 

The  club  of  which  I  am  a  member,  is  very  luckily  com- 
posed of  such  persons  as  are  engaged  in  different  ways  of 
life,  and  deputed,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  most  conspicuous 
classes  of  mankind.  By  this  means  I  am  furnished  with 
the  greatest  variety  of  hints  and  materials,  and  know 
everything  that  passes  in  the  different  quarters  and  divi- 
sions, not  only  of  this  great  city,  but  of  the  whole  king- 
dom. My  readers  too  have  the  satisfaction  to  find  that 
there  is  no  rank  or  degree  among  them  who  have  not  their 
representative  in  this  club,  and  that  there  is  always  some- 
body present  who  will  take  care  of  their  respective  in- 
terests, that  nothing  may  be  written  or  published  to  the 
prejudice  or  infringement  of  their  just  rights  and  priv- 
ileges. 

I  last  night  sat  very  late  in  company  with  this  select 
body  of  friends,  who  entertained  me  with  several  remarks 
which  they  and  others  had  made  upon  these  my  specula- 
tions, as  also  with  the  various  success  which  they  had 
met  with  among  their  several  ranks  and  degrees  of  read- 
ers.   Will  Honeycomb  told  me,  in  the  softest  manner  he 

*rrom  spotted   skins   the   leopard   does   refrain. 


104  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

could,  that  there  were  some  ladies  (but  for  your  com- 
fort, says  Will,  they  are  not  those  of  the  most  wit)  that 
were  offended  at  the  liberties  I  had  taken  with  the  opera 
and  the  puppet-show;  that  some  of  them  likewise  were 
very  much  surprised  that  I  should  think  such  serious 
points  as  the  dress  and  equipage  of  persons  of  quality 
proper  subjects  for  raillery. 

He  was  going  on,  when  Sir  Andrew  Freeport  took  him 
up  short,  and  told  him  that  the  papers  he  hinted  at  had 
done  great  good  in  the  city,  and  that  all  their  wives  and 
daughters  were  the  better  for  them;  and  farther  added 
that  the  whole  city  thought  themselves  very  much  obliged 
to  me  for  declaring  my  generous  intentions  to  scourge 
vice  and  folly  as  they  appear  in  a  multitude,  without 
condescending  to  be  a  publisher  of  particular  intrigues 
and  cuckoldoms.  "In  short,"  says  Sir  Andrew,  "if  you 
avoid  that  foolish  beaten  road  of  falling  upon  aldermen 
and  citizens,  and  employ  your  pen  upon  the  vanity  and 
luxury  of  courts,  your  paper  must  needs  be  of  general 
use/' 

Upon  this  my  friend  the  Templar  told  Sir  Andrew  that 
he  wondered  to  hear  a  man  of  his  sense  talk  after  that 
manner;  that  the  city  had  always  been  the  province  of 
satire;  and  that  the  wits  of  King  Charles's  time  jested 
upon  nothing  else  during  his  whole  reign.  He  then 
showed,  by  the  examples  of  Horace,  Juvenal,  Boileau,  and 
the  best  writers  of  every  age,  that  the  follies  of  the  stage 
and  court  had  never  been  accounted  too  sacred  for  ridi- 
cule, how  great  soever  the  persons  might  be  that  patron- 
ized them.  "But  after  all,"  says  he,  "I  think  your  raillery 
has  made  too  great  an  excursion  in  attacking  several  per- 
sons of  the  inns  of  court;  and  I  do  not  believe  you  can 
show  me  any  precedent  for  your  behavior  in  that  par- 
ticular." 

My  good  friend  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley,  who  had  said 
nothing  all  this  while,  began  his  speech  with  a  pish!  and 
told  us  that  he  wondered  to  see  so  many  men  of  sense 
so  very  serious  upon  fooleries.     "Let  our  good  friend," 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  105 

says  he,  "attack  every  one  that  deserves  it:  I  would  only 
advise  you,  Mr.  Spectator,"  applying  himself  to  me,  "to 
take  care  how  you  meddle  with  country  squires.  They 
are  the  ornaments  of  the  English  nation;  men  of  good 
heads  and  sound  bodies !  and,  let  me  tell  you,  some  of  them 
take  it  ill  of  you  that  you  mention  fox-hunters  with  so 
little  respect.'^ 

Captain  Sentry  spoke  very  sparingly  on  this  occasion. 
What  he  said  was  only  to  commend  my  prudence  in  not 
touching  upon  the  army,  and  advised  me  to  continue  to 
act  discreetly  in  that  point. 

By  this  time  I  found  every  subject  of  my  speculations 
was  taken  away  from  me  by  one  or  other  of  the  club ;  and 
began  to  think  myself  in  the  condition  of  the  good  man 
that  had  one  wife  who  took  a  dislike  to  his  gray  hairs, 
and  another  to  his  black,  till,  by  their  picking  out  what 
each  of  them  had  an  aversion  to,  they  left  his  head  al- 
together bald  and  naked. 

While  I  was  thus  musing  with  myself,  my  worthy 
friend  the  Clergyman,  who,  very  luckily  for  me,  was  at 
the  club  that  night,  undertook  my  cause.  He  told  us, 
that  he  wondered  any  order  of  persons  should  think  them- 
selves too  considerable  to  be  advised :  that  it  was  not  qual- 
ity, but  innocence,  which  exempted  men  from  reproof: 
that  vice  and  folly  ought  to  be  attacked  wherever  they 
could  be  met  with,  and  especially  when  they  were  placed 
in  high  and  conspicuous  stations  of  life.  He  further 
added,  that  my  paper  would  only  serve  to  aggravate  the 
pains  of  poverty,  if  it  chiefly  exposed  those  who  are  al- 
ready depressed,  and  in  some  measure  turned  into  ridi- 
cule, by  the  meanness  of  their  conditions  and  circum- 
stances. He  afterwards  proceeded  to  take  notice  of  the 
great  use  this  paper  might  be  of  to  the  public,  by  repre- 
hending those  vices  which  are  too  trivial  for  the  chas- 
tisement of  the  law,  and  too  fantastical  for  the  cogniz- 
ance of  the  pulpit.  He  then  advised  me  to  prosecute  my 
undertaking  with  cheerfulness,  and  assured  me,  that,  who- 
ever might  be  displeased  with  me,  I  should  be  approved  by 


106  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

all  those  whose  praises  do  honor  to  the  persons  on  whom 
they  are  bestowed. 

The  whole  club  pay  a  particular  deference  to  the  dis- 
course of  this  gentleman,  and  are  drawn  into  what  he 
says,  as  much  by  the  candid  ingenuous  manner  with  which 
he  delivers  himself,  as  by  the  strength  of  argument  and 
force  of  reason  which  he  makes  use  of.  Will  Honeycomb 
immediately  agreed,  that  what  he  had  said  was  right; 
and  that,  for  his  part,  he  would  not  insist  upon  the  quar- 
ter which  he  had  demanded  for  the  ladies.  Sir  Andrew 
gave  up  the  city  with  the  same  frankness.  The  Templar 
would  not  stand  out;  and  was  followed  by  Sir  Eoger  and 
the  Captain;  who  all  agreed  that  I  should  be  at  liberty 
to  carry  the  war  into  what  quarter  I  pleased,  provided  I 
continued  to  combat  with  criminals  in  a  body,  and  to  as- 
sault the  vice  without  hurting  the  person. 

This  debate,  which  was  held  for  the  good  of  mankind, 
put  me  in  mind  of  that  which  the  Roman  triumvirate 
were  formerly  engaged  in  for  their  destruction.  Every 
man  at  first  stood  hard  for  his  friend,  till  they  found, 
that  by  this  means  they  should  spoil  their  proscription; 
and  at  length,  making  a  sacrifice  of  all  their  acquaintances 
and  relations,  furnished  out  a  very  decent  execution. 

Having  thus  taken  my  resolutions  to  march  on  boldly 
in  the  cause  of  virtue  and  good  sense,  and  to  annoy  their 
adversaries  in  whatever  degree  or  rank  of  men  they  may 
be  found,  I  shall  be  deaf  for  the  future  to  all  the  remon- 
strances that  shall  be  made  to  me  on  this  account.  If 
Punch  grows  extravagant,  I  shall  reprimand  him  very 
freely.  If  the  stage  becomes  a  nursery  of  folly  and  im- 
pertinence, I  shall  not  be  afraid  to  animadvert  upon  it. 
In  short,  if  I  meet  with  anytliing  in  city,  court,  or  coun- 
try, that  shocks  modesty  or  good  manners,  I  shall  use 
my  utmost  endeavors  to  make  an  example  of  it.  I  must, 
however,  entreat  every  particular  person  who  does  me 
the  honor  to  be  a  reader  of  this  paper,  never  to  think 
himself,  or  any  one  of  his  friends  or  enemies,  aimed  at 
in  what  is  said :  for  I  promise  him  never  to  draw  a  faulty 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  107 

character  which  does  not  fit  at  least  a  thousand  people; 
or  to  publish  a  single  paper,  that  is  not  written  in  the 
spirit  of  benevolence  and  with  a  love  to  mankind.      C. 

[Spectator  No.  37.    Thursday,  April  12,  1711. 
Addison.] 

^Non  ilia  colo  calathisve  Minerva 

Foemineas  assueta  manus — * 
^  — ViEG.  -^n.  vii.  805. 


jome  months  ago,  my  friend  Sir  Eoger,  being  in  the 
country,  inclosed  a  letter  to  me,  directed  to  a  certain  lady 
whom  I  shall  here  call  by  the  name  of  Leonora,  and,  as 
it  contained  matters  of  consequence,  desired  me  to  de- 
liver it  to  her  with  my  own  hand.  Accordingly  I  waited 
upon  her  ladyship  pretty  early  in  the  morning,  and  was 
desired  by  her  woman  to  walk  into  her  lady's  library,  till 
such  time  as  she  was  in  a  readiness  to  receive  me.  The 
very  sound  of  a  lady's  library  gave  me  a  great  curiosity 
to  see  it;  and  as  it  was  sometime  before  the  lady  came 
to  me,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  turning  over  a  great  many 
of  her  books,  which  were  ranged  together  in  a  very  beau- 
tiful order.  At  the  end  of  the  folios  (which  were  finely 
bound  and  gilt)  were  great  jars  of  china  placed  one  above 
another  in  a  very  noble  piece  of  architecture.  The  quar- 
tos were  separated  from  the  octavos  by  a  pile  of  smaller 
vessels,  which  rose  in  a  delightful  pyramid.  The  octavos 
were  bounded  by  tea-dishes  of  all  shapes,  colors,  and  sizes, 
which  were  so  disposed  on  a  wooden  frame,  that  they 
looked  like  one  continued  pillar  indented  with  the  finest 
strokes  of  sculpture,  and  stained  with  the  greatest  vari- 
ety of  dyes.  That  part  of  the  library  which  was  designed 
for  the  reception  of  plays  and  pamphlets,  and  other  loose 
papers,  was  enclosed  in  a  kind  of  square,  consisting  of 
one  of  the  prettiest  grotesque  works  that  ever  I  saw,  and 
made  up   of  scaramouches,   lions,   monkeys,   mandarins, 

*  Unbred  to  spinning,  in  the  loom  unskiU'd. 


108  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

trees,  shells,  and  a  thousand  other  odd  figures  in  china 
ware.  In  the  midst  of  the  room  was  a  little  japan  table, 
with  a  quire  of  gilt  paper  upon  it,  and  on  the  paper  a 
silver  snuff-box  made  in  the  shape  of  a  little  book.  I 
found  there  were  several  other  counterfeit  books  upon  the 
upper  shelves,  which  were  carved  in  wood,  and  served 
only  to  fill  up  the  number,  like  fagots  in  the  muster  of 
a  regiment.  I  was  wonderfully  pleased  with  such  a  mixed 
kind  of  furniture,  as  seemed  very  suitable  both  to  the  lady 
and  the  scholar,  and  did  not  know  at  first  whether  I 
should  fancy  myself  in  a  grotto,  or  in  a  library. 

Upon  my  looking  into  the  books,  I  found  there  were 
some  few  which  the  lady  had  bought  for  her  own  use, 
but  that  most  of  them  had  been  got  together,  either  be- 
cause she  had  heard  them  praised,  or  because  she  had  seen 
the  authors  of  them.  Among  several  that  I  examined, 
I  very  well  remember  these  that  follows : — 

Ogleby's  Virgil. 

Dryden's  Juvenal. 

Cassandra.  1     [Romances  from  the  French  of  Gautier 

Cleopatra,  j        de  Costes.] 

Astrsea. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Works. 

The  Grand  Cyrus  [by  Madeleine  de  Scuderi] ;  with  a 

pin  stuck  in  one  of  the  middle  leaves. 
Pembroke's  Arcadia. 
Locke   on   Hiunan  Understanding:    with   a    paper    of 

patches  in  it. 
A  Spelling  Book. 

A  Dictionary  for  the  explanation  of  hard  words. 
Sherlock  upon  Death. 
The  fifteen  Comforts  of  Matrimony. 
Sir  William  Temple's  Essays. 
Eather  Malebranche's   Search  after  Truth,  translated 

into  English. 
A  book  of  Novels. 
The  Academy  of  Compliments. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  109 

Culpepper's  Midwifery. 

The  Ladies'  Calling. 

Tales  in  Verse  by  Mr.  Durfey;  bound  in  red  leather, 
gilt  on  the  back,  and  doubled  down  in  several  places. 

All  the  Classic  Authors  in  Wood. 

A  set  of  Elzevirs  by  the  same  Hand. 

Clelia:  which  opened  of  itself  in  the  place  that  de- 
scribes two  lovers  in  a  bower. 

Baker's  Chronicle. 

Advice  to  a  Daughter. 

The  New  Atalantis/  with  a  Key  to  it. 

Mr.  Steele's   Christian  Hero. 

A  prayer-book :  with  a  bottle  of  Hungary- Water  by  the 
side  of  it. 

Dr.  Sacheverell's  Speech. 

Fielding's  Trial. 

Seneca's  Morals. 

Taylor's  Holy  Living  and  Dying. 

La  Forte's  2  Instructions  for  Country  Dances. 

I  was  taking  a  catalogue  in  my  pocket-book  of  these, 
and  several  other  authors,  when  Leonora  entered,  and 
upon  my  presenting  her  with  a  letter  from  the  knight, 
told  me,  with  an  unspeakable  grace,  that  she  hoped  Sir 
Koger  was  in  good  health:  I  answered  Yes,  for  I  hate 
long  speeches,  and  after  a  bow  or  two,  retired. 

Leonora  was  formerly  a  celebrated  beauty,  and  is  still 
a  very  lovely  woman.  She  has  been  a  widow  for  two  or 
three  years,  and  being  unfortunate  in  her  first  marriage, 
has  taken  a  resolution  never  to  venture  upon  a  second. 
She  has  no  children  to  take  care  of,  and  leaves  the  man- 
agement of  her  estate  to  my  good  friend  Sir  Koger.  But 
as  the  mind  naturally  sinks  into  a  kind  of  lethargy,  and 
falls  asleep,  that  is  not  agitated  by  some  favorite  pleas- 
ures and  pursuits,  Leonora  has  turned  all  the  passions  of 

^A  scandalous  book  which  under  feigned  names  especiaUy  at- 
tacked members  of  Whig  families. 

*A  famous  dancing  master  of  this  date. 


110  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

her  sex  into  a  love  of  books  and  retirement.  She  con-^ 
verses  chiefly  with  men  (as  she  has  often  said  herself), 
but  it  is  only  in  their  writings;  and  admits  of  very  few 
male  visitants,  except  my  friend  Sir  Roger,  whom  she 
hears  with  great  pleasure,  and  without  scandal.  As  her 
reading  has  lain  very  much  among  romances,  it  has  given 
her  a  very  particular  turn  of  thinking,  and  discovers  it- 
self even  in  her  house,  her  gardens,  and  her  furniture. 
Sir  Roger  has  entertained  me  an  hour  together  with  a 
description  of  her  country  seat,  which  is  situated  in  a 
kind  of  wilderness,  about  a  hundred  miles  distant  from 
London,  and  looks  like  a  little  enchanted  palace.  The 
rocks  about  her  are  shaped  into  artificial  grottos  covered 
with  woodbines  and  jessamines.  The  woods  are  cut  into 
shady  walks,  twisted  into  bowers,  and  filled  with  cages  of 
turtles.  The  springs  are  made  to  run  among  pebbles,  and 
by  that  means  taught  to  murmur  very  agreeably.  They 
are  likewise  collected  into  a  beautiful  lake  that  is  inhab- 
ited by  a  couple  of  swans,  and  empties  itself  by  a  little 
rivulet,  which  runs  through  a  green  meadow,  and  is 
known  in  the  family  by  the  name  of  the  Purling  Stream. 
The  knight  likewise  tells  me,  that  this  lady  preserves  her 
game  better  than  any  of  the  gentlemen  in  the  country, 
not  (says  Sir  Roger)  that  she  sets  so  great  a  value  upon 
her  partridges  and  pheasants,  as  upon  her  larks  and 
nightingales.  For  she  says  that  every  bird  that  is  killed 
in  her  ground,  will  spoil  a  consort,  and  she  shall  certainly 
miss  him  next  year. 

When  I  think  how  oddly  this  lady  is  improved  by 
learning,  I  look  upon  her  with  a  mixture  of  admiration 
and  pity.  Amidst  these  innocent  entertainments  which 
she  has  formed  to  herself,  how  much  more  valuable  does 
she  appear  than  those  of  her  sex,  who  employ  themselves 
in  diversions  that  are  less  reasonable,  though  more  in 
fashion?  What  improvements  would  a  woman  have 
made,  who  is  so  susceptible  of  impressions  from  what  she 
reads,  had  she  been  guided  to  such  books  as  have  a  ten- 
dency to   enlighten  the  understanding   and   rectify   the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  111 

passions,  as  well  as  to  those  which  are  of  little  more  use 
than  to  divert  the  imagination? 

But  the  manner  of  a  lady's  employing  herseK  usefully 
in  reading,  shall  be  the  subject  of  another  paper,  in  which 
I  design  to  recommend  such  particular  books  as  may  be 
proper  for  the  improvement  of  the  sex.  And  as  this  is 
a  subject  of  a  very  nice  nature,  I  shall  desire  my  cor- 
respondents to  give  me  their  thoughts  upon  it.  C. 

[Spectator  No.  39.    Saturday,  April  14, 1711.    Addison.] 

Multa  ferOf  ut  placem  genus  irritable  vatum, 
Cum  scribo}  — Hob. 

As  a  perfect  tragedy  is  the  noblest  production  of  hu- 
man nature,  so  it  is  capable  of  giving  the  mind  one  of  the 
most  delightful  and  most  improving  entertainments.  A 
virtuous  man  (says  Seneca)  struggling  with  misfortunes, 
is  such  a  spectacle  as  gods  might  look  upon  with  pleas- 
ure: and  such  a  pleasure  it  is  which  one  meets  with  in 
the  representation  of  a  well-written  tragedy.  Diversions 
of  this  kind  wear  out  of  our  thoughts  everything  that 
is  mean  and  little.  They  cherish  and  cultivate  that  hu- 
manity which  is  the  ornament  of  our  nature.  They 
soften  insolence,  soothe  affliction,  and  subdue  the  mind  to 
the  dispensations  of  Providence. 

It  is  no  wonder  therefore  that  in  all  the  polite  nations 
of  the  world,  this  part  of  the  drama  has  met  with  public 
encouragement. 

The  modern  tragedy  excels  that  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
in  the  intricacy  and  disposition  of  the  fable;  but,  what 
a  Christian  writer  would  be  ashamed  to  own,  falls  in- 
finitely short  of  it  in  the  moral  part  of  the  performance. 

This  I  may  show  more  at  large  hereafter;  and  in  the 
meantime,  that  I  may  contribute  something  towards  the 
improvement  of  the  English  tragedy,  I  shall  take  notice, 

1  "Much  do  I  suffer,  much,  to  keep  in  place 
This  jealous,   waspish,   wrong-headed   rhyming   race." 

— POPB. 


112  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

in  this  and  in  other  following  papers,  of  some  particular 
parts  in  it  that  seem  liable  to  exception. 

Aristotle  observes,  that  the  iambic  verse  in  the  Greek 
tongue  was  the  most  proper  for  tragedy:  because  at  the 
same  time  that  it  lifted  up  the  discourse  from  prose,  it 
was  that  which  approached  nearer  to  it  than  any  other 
kind  of  verse.  For,  says  he,  we  may  observe  that  men 
in  ordinary  discourse  very  often  speak  iambics,  without 
taking  notice  of  it.  We  may  make  the  same  observa- 
tion of  our  English  blank  verse,  which  often  enters 
into  our  common  discourse,  though  we  do  not  attend  to 
it,  and  is  such  a  due  medium  between  rime  and  prose, 
that  it  seems  wonderfully  adapted  to  tragedy.  I  am 
therefore  very  much  offended  when  I  see  a  play  in 
rhyme;  which  is  as  absurd  in  English,  as  a  tragedy  of 
hexameters  would  have  been  in  Greek  or  Latin.  The  sole- 
cism is,  I  think,  still  greater,  in  those  plays  that  have  some 
scenes  in  rhyme  and  some  in  blank  verse,  which  are  to  be 
looked  upon  as  two  several  languages;  or  where  we  see 
some  particular  similes  dignified  with  rhyme,  at  the  same 
time  that  eTerything  about  them  lies  in  blank  verse.  I 
would  not  however  debar  the  poet  from  concluding  his 
tragedy,  or,  if  he  pleases,  every  act  of  it,  with  two  or 
three  couplets,  which  may  have  the  same  effect  as  an  air 
in  the  Italian  opera  after  a  long  recitative,  and  give  the 
actor  a  graceful  exit.  Besides  that,  we  see  a  diversity 
of  numbers  in  some  parts  of  the  old  tragedy,  in  order 
to  hinder  the  ear  from  being  tired  with  the  same  con- 
tinued modulation  of  voice.  For  the  same  reason  I  do 
not  dislike  the  speeches  in  our  English  tragedy  that  close 
with  an  hemistich,  or  half  verse,  notwithstanding  the  per- 
son who  speaks  after  it  begins  a  new  verse,  without  filling 
up  the  preceding  one;  nor  with  abrupt  pauses  and  break- 
ings-off  in  the  middle  of  a  verse,  when  they  humor  any 
passion  that  is  expressed  by  it. 

Since  I  am  upon  this  subject,  I  must  observe  that  our 
English  poets  have  succeeded  much  better  in  the  style, 
than   in  the  sentiments   of  their   tragedies.     Their  Ian- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  113 

gnage  is  very  often  noble  and  sonorous,  but  the  sense 
either  very  trifling  or  very  common.  On  the  contrary, 
in  the  ancient  tragedies,  and  indeed  in  those  of  Corneille 
and  Racine,  though  the  expressions  are  very  great,  it  is 
the  thought  that  bears  them  up  and  swells  them.  For  my 
own  part,  I  prefer  a  noble  sentiment  that  is  depressed 
with  homely  language,  infinitely  before  a  vulgar  one  that 
is  blown  up  with  all  the  sound  and  energy  of  expression. 
Whether  this  defect  in  our  tragedies  may  rise  from  want 
of  genius,  knowledge,  or  experience  in  the  writers,  or 
from  their  compliance  with  the  vicious  taste  of  their 
readers,  who  are  better  judges  of  the  language  than  of 
the  sentiments,  and  consequently  relish  the  one  more  than 
the  other,  I  can  not  determine.  But  I  believe  it  might 
rectify  the  conduct  both  of  the  one  and  of  the  other,  if 
the  writer  laid  down  the  whole  contexture  of  his  dialogue 
in  plain  English,  before  he  turned  it  into  blank  verse; 
and  if  the  reader,  after  the  perusal  of  a  scene,  would  con- 
sider the  naked  thought  of  every  speech  in  it,  when  di- 
vested of  all  its  tragic  ornaments;  by  this  means,  without 
being  imposed  upon  by  words,  we  may  judge  impartially 
of  the  thought,  and  consider  whether  it  be  natural  or 
great  enough  for  the  person  that  utters  it,  whether  it  de- 
serves to  shine  in  such  a  blaze  of  eloquence,  or  show  itself 
in  such  a  variety  of  lights  as  are  generally  made  use  of 
by  the  writers  of  our  English  tragedy. 

I  must  in  the  next  place  observe,  that  when  our 
thoughts  are  great  and  just,  they  are  often  obscured  by 
the  sounding  phrases,  hard  metaphors,  and  forced  expres- 
sions in  which  they  are  clothed.  Shakespeare  is  often 
very  faulty  in  this  particular.  There  is  a  fine  observa- 
tion in  Aristotle  to  this  purpose,  which  I  have  never  seen 
quoted.  The  expression,  says  he,  ought  to  be  very  much 
labored  in  the  unactive  parts  of  the  fable,  as  in  descrip- 
tions, similitudes,  narrations,  and  the  like;  in  which  the 
opinions,  manners,  and  passions  of  men  are  not  repre- 
sented; for  these  (namely  the  opinions,  manners  and  pas- 
sions) are  apt  to  be  obscured  by  pompous  phrases  and 


114  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

elaborate  expressions.  Horace,  who  copied  most  of  his 
criticisms  after  Aristotle,  seems  to  have  had  his  eye  on 
the  foregoing  rule,  in  the  following  verses: 

Et  tragicus  plerumque  dolet  sermone  pedestri 
Telephus  et  Peleus,  cum  pauper  et  exsul  uterque, 
Projicit  ampullas  et  sesquipedelia  verba, 
Si  curat  cor   spectantis  tetigisse  querela. 

Tragedians,  too,  lay  by  their  state,  to  grieve. 
Peleus  and  Telephus,  exiled  and  poor. 
Forget  their  swelling  and  gigantic  words. 

— Ld.  Roscommon. 

Among  our  modem  English  poets,  there  is  none  who 
was  better  turned  for  tragedy  than  Lee;  if  instead  of  fa- 
voring the  impetuosity  of  his  genius,  he  had  restrained  it, 
and  kept  it  within  its  proper  bounds.  His  thoughts  are 
wonderfully  suited  to  tragedy,  but  frequently  lost  in  such 
a  cloud  of  words,  that  it  is  hard  to  see  the  beauty  of  them. 
There  is  an  infinite  fire  in  his  works,  but  so  involved  in 
smoke,  that  it  does  not  appear  in  half  its  luster.  He 
frequently  succeeds  in  the  passionate  parts  of  the  tragedy, 
but  more  particularly  where  he  slackens  his  efforts,  and 
eases  the  style  of  those  epithets  and  metaphors,  in  which 
he  so  much  abounds.  What  can  be  more  natural,  more 
soft,  or  more  passionate,  than  that  line  in  Statira's  speech, 
where  she  describes  the  charms  of  Alexander's  conversa- 
tion? 

Then  he  would  talk ;  Good  Gods !  how  he  would  talk ! 

That  unexpected  break  in  the  line,  and  turning  the 
description  of  his  manner  of  talking  into  an  admiration 
of  it,  is  inexpressibly  beautiful,  and  wonderfully  suited 
to  the  fond  character  of  the  person  that  speaks  it.  There 
is  a  simplicity  in  the  words,  that  outshines  the  utmost 
pride  of  expression. 

Otway  has  followed  nature  in  the  language  of  his 
tragedy,  and  therefore  shines  in  the  passionate  parts,  more 
than  any  of  our  English  poets.     As  there  is  something 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  115 

familiar  and  domestic  in  the  fable  of  his  tragedy,  more 
than  in  those  of  any  other  poet,  he  has  little  pomp,  but 
great  force  in  his  expressions.  For  which  reason,  though 
he  has  admirably  succeeded  in  the  tender  and  melting  part 
of  his  tragedies,  he  sometimes  falls  into  too  great  a  fa- 
miliarity of  phrase  in  those  parts,  which,  by  Aristotle's 
rule,  ought  to  have  been  raised  and  supported  by  the  dig- 
nity of  expression. 

It  has  been  observed  by  others,  that  this  poet  has 
founded  his  tragedy  of  Venice  Preserved  on  so  wrong  a 
plot,  that  the  greatest  characters  in  it  are  those  of  rebels 
and  traitors.  Had  the  hero  of  his  play  discovered  the 
same  good  qualities  in  the  defense  of  his  country,  that  he 
showed  for  its  ruin  and  subversion,  the  audience  could 
not  enough  pity  and  admire  him :  but  as  he  is  now  repre- 
sented, we  can  only  say  of  him  what  the  Roman  historian 
says  of  Catiline,  that  his  fall  would  have  been  glorious 
(si  pro  Patria  sic  concidisset)  had  he  so  fallen  in  the  serv- 
ice of  his  country. 

[Spectator  No.  42.    Wednesday,  April  18,  1711. 
Addison.] 

Gurganum  mugire  putes  nemtts  aut  mare   Tusowm, 

Tanto  cum  strepitu  ludi  speotaniur,  et  artes, 

Diviticeque  peregrince ;  quihus  ohlitus  actor 

Cum  stetit  in  scena,  concurrit  dextera  laevce, 

Diant  adhuc  aliquidf     Nil  sane.     Quid  placet  ergo? 

Lana  Ta/rentvno,  violas  imitata  veneno}  — HoB. 

Aristotle  has  observed,  that  ordinary  writers  in  trag- 
edy endeavor  to  raise  terror  and  pity  in  their  audience, 
not  by  proper  sentiments   and   expressions,  but  by  the 

^  "Loud  as  the  wolves  on  Orca's  stormy  steep 
Howl  to  the  roarings  of  the  northern  deep : 
Such  is  the  shout,  the  loud  applauding  note, 
At   Quin   high   plume,   or   Oldfield's   petticoat ; 
Or  when  from  court  a  birthday  suit  bestowed 
Sinks  the  lost  actor  in  the  tawdry  load. 
Booth   enters — ^hark !   the  universal   peal- 
But  has  he  spoken? — not  a  syllable — 
What  shook  the  stage  and  made  the  people  stare? 
Cato's  long  wig,  flowered  gown  and  lacquered  chair." 

— POPB. 


116  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

dresses  and  decorations  of  the  stage.  There  is  some- 
thing of  this  kind  very  ridiculous  in  the  English  theater. 
When  the  author  has  a  mind  to  terrify  us,  it  thunders; 
when  he  would  make  us  melancholy,  the  stage  is  dark- 
ened. But  among  all  our  tragic  artifices,  I  am  the  most 
offended  at  those  which  are  made  use  of  to  inspire  us 
with  magnificent  ideas  of  the  persons  that  speak.  The 
ordinary  method  of  making  an  hero,  is  to  clap  a  huge 
plume  of  feathers  upon  his  head,  which  rises  so  very  high, 
that  there  is  often  a  greater  length  from  his  chin  to  the 
top  of  his  head,  than  to  the  sole  of  his  foot.  One  would 
believe  that  we  thought  a  great  man  and  a  tall  man  the 
same  thing.  This  very  much  embarrasses  the  actor,  who 
is  forced  to  hold  his  neck  extremely  stiff  and  steady  all 
the  while  he  speaks;  and  notwithstanding  any  anxieties 
which  he  pretends  for  his  mistress,  his  country  or  his 
friends,  one  may  see  by  his  action,  that  his  greatest  care 
and  concern  is  to  keep  the  plume  of  feathers  from  falling 
off  his  head.  For  my  own  part,  when  I  see  a  man  utter- 
ing his  complaints  under  such  a  mountain  of  feathers,  I 
am  apt  to  look  upon  him  rather  as  an  unfortunate  luna- 
tic, than  a  distressed  hero.  As  these  superfluous  orna- 
ments upon  the  head  make  a  great  man,  a  princess  gen- 
erally receives  her  grandeur  from  those  additional  en- 
cumbrances that  fall  into  her  tail:  I  mean  the  broad 
sweeping  train  that  follows  her  in  all  her  motions,  and 
finds  constant  employment  for  a  boy  who  stands  behind 
her  to  open  and  spread  it  to  advantage.  I  do  not  know 
how  others  are  affected  at  this  sight,  but,  I  must  confess, 
my  eyes  are  wholly  taken  up  with  the  page's  part;  and 
as  for  the  queen,  I  am  not  so  attentive  to  anything  she 
speaks,  as  ^o  the  right  adjusting  of  her  train,  lest  it 
should  chance  to  trip  up  her  heels,  or  incommode  her, 
as  she  walks  to  and  fro  upon  the  stage.  It  is,  in  my  opin- 
ion, a  very  odd  spectacle,  to  see  a  queen  venting  her  pas- 
sion in  a  disordered  motion,  and  a  little  boy  taking  care 
all  the  while  that  they  do  not  ruffle  the  tail  of  her  gown. 
The  parts  that  the  two  persons  act  on  the  stage  at  the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  117 

same  time,  are  very  different :  The  princess  is  afraid  lest 
she  should  incur  the  displeasure  of  the  king  her  father,  or 
lose  the  hero  her  lover,  whilst  her  attendant  is  only  con- 
cerned lest  she  should  entangle  her  feet  in  her  petticoat. 

We  are  told,  that  an  ancient  tragic  poet,  to  move  the 
pity  of  his  audience  for  his  exiled  kings  and  distressed 
heroes,  used  to  make  the  actors  represent  them  in  dresses 
and  clothes  that  were  threadbare  and  decayed.  This  arti- 
fice for  moving  pity,  seems  as  ill  contrived,  as  that  we 
have  been  speaking  of  to  inspire  us  with  a  great  idea  of 
the  persons  introduced  upon  the  stage.  In  short,  I  would 
have  our  conceptions  raised  by  the  dignity  of  thought 
and  sublimity  of  expression,  rather  than  by  a  train  of 
robes  or  a  plume  of  feathers. 

Another  mechanical  method  of  making  great  men,  and 
adding  dignity  to  kings  and  queens,  is  to  accompany  them 
with  halberts  and  battle-axes.  Two  or  three  shifters  of 
scenes,  with  the  two  candle  snuffers,  make  up  a  com- 
plete body  of  guards  upon  the  English  stage;  and  by  the 
addition  of  a  few  porters  dressed  in  red  coats,  can  repre- 
sent above  a  dozen  legions.  I  have  sometimes  seen  a 
couple  of  armies  drawn  up  together  upon  the  stage,  when 
the  poet  has  been  disposed  to  do  honor  to  his  generals. 
It  is  impossible  for  the  reader's  imagination  to  multiply 
twenty  men  into  such  prodigious  multitudes,  or  to  fancy 
that  two  or  three  hundred  thousand  soldiers  are  fighting 
in  a  room  of  forty  or  fifty  yards  in  compass.  Incidents 
of  such  nature  should  be  told,  not  represented. 

Non  tamen  intus 
Digna  geri  promes  in  scenam;   multaque  tolles 
Ex  oculis,  quae  mox  narret  facundia  prsesens. — ^HoB» 

Yet  there  are  things  improper  for  a  scene. 
Which  men  of  judgment  only  will  relate. 

— Ld.  Roscommon. 

I  should  therefore,  in  this  particular,  recommend  to 
my  countrymen  the  example  of  the  French  stage,  where 
the  kings   and  queens   always   appear  unattended,   and 


118  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

leave  their  guards  behind  the  scenes.  I  should  likewise 
be  glad  if  we  imitated  the  French  in  banishing  from  our 
stage  the  noise  of  drums,  trumpets,  and  huzzas;  which  is 
sometimes  so  very  great,  that  when  there  is  a  battle  in 
the  Haymarket  theater,  one  may  hear  it  as  far  as  Charing 
Cross. 

I  have  here  only  touched  upon  those  particulars  which 
are  made  use  of  to  raise  and  aggrandize  the  persons  of  a 
tragedy;  and  shall  show  in  another  paper  the  several  ex- 
pedients which  are  practised  by  authors  of  a  vulgar 
genius,  to  move  terror,  pity,  or  admiration,  in  their  hearers. 

The  tailor  and  the  painter  often  contribute  to  the  suc- 
cess of  a  tragedy  more  than  the  poet.  Scenes  affect  ordi- 
nary minds  as  much  as  speeches;  and  our  actors  are  very 
sensible,  that  a  well-dressed  play  has  sometimes  brought 
them  as  full  audiences,  as  a  well-written  one.  The  Ital- 
ians have  a  very  good  phrase  to  express  this  art  of  im- 
posing upon  the  spectators  by  appearances:  they  call  it 
the  fourheria  della  scena,  the  knavery  or  trickish  part  of 
the  drama.  But  however  the  show  and  outside  of  the 
tragedy  may  work  upon  the  vulgar,  the  more  understand- 
ing part  of  the  audience  immediately  see  through  it,  and 
despise  it. 

A  good  poet  will  give  the  reader  a  more  lively  idea  of 
an  army  or  a  battle  in  a  description,  than  if  he  actually 
saw  them  drawn  up  in  squadrons  and  battalions,  or  en- 
gaged in  the  confusion  of  a  fight.  Our  minds  should  be 
opened  to  great  conceptions,  and  inflamed  with  glorious 
sentiments,  by  what  the  actor  speaks,  more  than  by  what 
he  appears.  Can  all  the  trappings  or  equipage  of  a  king 
or  hero,  give  Brutus  half  that  pomp  and  majesty  which 
he  receives  from  a  few  lines  in  Shakespeare? 

[Spectator  No.  44.    FRroAY,  April  20,  1711.    Addison.] 
Tu   quid   ego   et  popuUis   mecum   desideret   cuudi} — HoR. 
Among  the  several  artifices  which  are  put  in  practise 

by  the  poets  to  fill  the  minds  of  an  audience  with  terror, 

1  Now   hear   what   every    auditor   expects. — Roscommon. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  119 

the  first  place  is  due  to  thunder  and  lightning,  which  are 
often  made  use  of  at  the  descending  of  a  god,  or  the  ris- 
ing of  a  ghost,  at  the  vanishing  of  a  devil,  or  at  the  death 
of  a  tyrant.  I  have  known  a  bell  introduced  into  sev- 
eral tragedies  with  good  effect;  and  have  seen  the  whole 
assembly  in  a  very  great  alarm  all  the  while  it  has  been 
ringing.  But  there  is  nothing  which  delights  and  ter- 
rifies our  English  theater  so  much  as  a  ghost,  especially 
when  he  appears  in  a  bloody  shirt.  A  specter  has  very 
often  saved  a  play,  though  he  has  done  nothing  but  stalked 
across  the  stage,  or  rose  through  a  cleft  of  it,  and  sunk 
again  without  speaking  one  word.  There  may  be  a 
proper  season  for  these  several  terrors;  and  when  they 
only  come  in  as  aids  and  assistances  to  the  poet,  they 
are  not  only  to  be  excused,  but  to  be  applauded.  Thus 
the  sounding  of  the  clock  in  Venice  Preserved^  makes  the 
hearts  of  the  whole  audience  quake;  and  conveys  a 
stronger  terror  to  the  mind,  than  it  is  possible  for  words  to 
do.  The  appearance  of  the  ghost  in  Hamlet  is  a  master- 
piece in  its  kind,  and  wrought  up  with  all  the  circum- 
stances that  can  create  either  attention  or  horror.  The 
mind  of  the  reader  is  wonderfully  prepared  for  his  recep- 
tion by  the  discourses  that  precede  it:  his  dumb  behavior 
at  his  first  entrance,  strikes  the  imagination  very  strongly ; 
but  every  time  he  enters,  he  is  still  more  terrifying.  Who 
can  read  the  speech  with  which  young  Hamlet  accosts 
him,  without  trembling  ? 

Eor.    Look,  my  Lord,  it  comes! 

Hami.     AngeJfs  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us! 
Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health,  or  goblin  damned; 
Bring  with  thee  airs  from  heaven,  or  blasts  from  helU 
Be  thy  event  wicked  or  charitable; 
Thou  com'st  in  such  a  questionable  shape, 
That  I  will  speak  to  thee.    1^11  call  thee  Hamlet, 
King,  Father,  Royal  Dane:  Oh!  Oh!  answer  me, 
Let  me  not  burst  in  ignorance;  but  tell 
Why  thy  canonized  bones,  hearsed  in  death, 
Have  burst  their   cerements?     Why  the  sepulchre. 


120  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Wherein  we  saw  thee  quietly  inurned. 
Hath  oped  his  ponderous  and  marble  jaws, 
To  cast  thee  up  again?     What  may  this  mean? 
That  thou  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 
Making  night  hideous? 

I  do  not  therefore  find  fault  with  tlie  artifices  above 
mentioned,  when  they  are  introduced  with  skill,  and  ac- 
companied by  proportionable  sentiments  and  expressions 
in  the  writing. 

For  the  moving  of  pity,  our  principal  machine  is  the 
handkerchief;  and  indeed,  in  our  common  tragedies,  we 
should  not  know  very  often  that  the  persons  are  in  distress 
by  any  thing  they  say,  if  they  did  not  from  time  to  time 
apply  their  handkerchiefs  to  their  eyes.  Ear  be  it  from 
me  to  think  of  banishing  this  instrument  of  sorrow  from 
the  stage;  I  know  a  tragedy  could  not  subsist  without  it: 
all  that  I  would  contend  for,  is,  to  keep  it  from  being  mis- 
applied. In  a  word,  I  would  have  the  actor's  tongue 
sympathize  with  his  eyes. 

A  disconsolate  mother,  with  a  child  in  her  hand,  has 
frequently  drawn  compassion  from  the  audience,  and  has 
therefore  gained  a  place  in  several  tragedies.  A  modem 
writer,  that  observed  how  this  had  took  in  other  plays, 
being  resolved  to  double  the  distress,  and  melt  his  audi- 
ence twice  as  much  as  those  before  him  had  done,  brought 
a  princess  upon  the  stage  with  a  little  boy  in  one  hand 
and  a  girl  in  the  other.  This  too  had  a  very  good  effect. 
A  third  poet  being  resolved  to  outwrite  all  his  predeces- 
sors, a  few  years  ago  introduced  three  children,  with  great 
success:  and,  as  I  am  informed,  a  young  gentleman,  who 
is  fuUy  determined  to  break  the  most  obdurate  hearts,  ha8 
a  tragedy  by  him,  where  the  first  person  that  appears  upon 
the  stage  is  an  afflicted  widow  in  her  mourning  weeds, 
with  half  a  dozen  fatherless  children  attending  her,  like 
those  that  usually  hang  about  the  figure  of  charity.  Thus 
several  incidents  that  are  beautiful  in  a   good  writer. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  121 

become  ridiculous  by  falling  into  the  hands  of  a  bad  one. 
But  among  all  our  methods  of  moving  pity  or  terror, 
there  is  none  so  absurd  and  barbarous,  and  what  more 
exposes  us  to  the  contempt  and  ridicule  of  our  neighbors, 
than  that  dreadful  butchering  of  one  another,  which  is  so 
very  frequent  upon  the  English  stage.  To  delight  in  see- 
ing men  stabbed,  poisoned,  racked,  or  impaled,  is  certainly 
the  sign  of  a  cruel  temper :  and  as  this  is  often  practised 
before  the  British  audience,  several  French  critics,  who 
think  these  are  grateful  spectacles  to  us,  take  occasion 
from  them  to  represent  us  a  people  that  delight  in  blood. 
It  is  indeed  very  odd,  to  see  our  stage  strewed  with  car- 
cases in  the  last  scene  of  a  tragedy ;  and  to  observe  in  the 
wardrobe  of  the  playhouse  several  daggers,  poniards, 
wheels,  bowls  for  poison,  and  many  other  instruments  of 
death.  Murders  and  executions  are  always  transacted  be- 
hind the  scenes  in  the  French  theater;  which  in  general 
is  very  agreeable  to  the  manners  of  a  polite  and  civilized 
people:  but  as  there  are  no  exceptions  to  this  rule  on  the 
French  stage,  it  leads  them  into  absurdities  almost  as 
ridiculous  as  that  which  falls  under  our  present  censure. 
I  remember  in  the  famous  play  of  Corneille,  written  upon 
the  subject  of  the  Horatii  and  Curiatii,  the  fierce  young 
hero  who  had  overcome  the  Curiatii  one  after  another  (in- 
stead of  being  congratulated  by  his  sister  for  his  victory, 
being  upbraided  by  her  for  having  slain  her  lover)  in  the 
height  of  his  passion  and  resentment  kills  her.  If  anything 
could  extenuate  so  brutal  an  action,  it  would  be  the  doing 
of  it  on  a  sudden,  before  the  sentiments  of  nature,  reason, 
or  manhood  could  take  place  in  him.  However,  to  avoid 
public  bloodshed,  as  soon  as  his  passion  is  wrought  to  its 
height,  he  follows  his  sister  the  whole  length  of  the  stage, 
and  forbears  killing  her  till  they  are  both  withdrawn 
behind  the  scenes.  I  must  confess,  had  he  murdered  her 
before  the  audience,  the  indecency  might  have  been 
greater;  but  as  it  is,  it  appears  very  unnatural,  and  looks 
like  killing  in  cold  blood.     To  give  my  opinion  upon  this 


122  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

case,  the  fact  ought  not  to  have  been  represented,  but  to 
have  been  told,  if  there  was  any  occasion  for  it. 

It  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader,  to  see  how 
Sophocles  has  conducted  a  tragedy  under  the  like  delicate 
circumstances.  Orestes  was  in  the  same  condition  with 
Hamlet  in  Shakespeare,  his  mother  having  murdered  his 
father,  and  taken  possession  of  his  kingdom  in  conspiracy 
with  her  adulterer.  That  young  prince  therefore,  being 
determined  to  revenge  his  father's  death  upon  those  who 
filled  his  throne,  conveys  himself  by  a  beautiful  strategem 
into  his  mother's  apartment,  with  a  resolution  to  kill  her. 
But  because  such  a  spectacle  would  have  been  too  shock- 
ing to  the  audience,  this  dreadful  resolution  is  executed 
behind  the  scenes :  the  mother  is  heard  calling  out  to  her 
son  for  mercy ;  and  the  son  answering  her,  that  she  showed 
no  mercy  to  his  father:  after  which  she  shrieks  out  that 
she  is  wounded,  and  by  what  follows  we  find  that  she  is 
slain.  I  do  not  remember  that  in  any  of  our  plays  there 
are  speeches  made  behind  the  scenes,  though  there  are 
other  instances  of  this  nature  to  be  met  with  in  those  of 
the  ancients :  and  I  believe  my  reader  will  agree  with  me, 
that  there  is  something  infinitely  more  affecting  in  this 
dreadful  dialogue  between  the  mother  and  her  son  behind 
the  scenes,  than  could  have  been  in  anything  transacted 
before  the  audience.  Orestes  immediately  after  meets  the 
usurper  at  the  entrance  of  his  palace ;  and  by  a  very  happy 
thought  of  the  poet  avoids  killing  him  before  the  audience, 
by  telling  him  that  he  should  live  some  time  in  his  present 
bitterness  of  soul  before  he  would  dispatch  him,  and  by 
ordering  him  to  retire  into  that  part  of  the  palace  where 
he  had  slain  his  father,  whose  murder  he  would  revenge 
in  the  very  same  place  where  it  was  committed.  By  this 
means  the  poet  observes  that  decency,  which  Horace  after- 
wards established  by  a  rule,  of  borbearing  to  commit  parri- 
cides or  unnatural  murders  before  the  audience. 

Nee  coram  populo  notos  Medea  trucidet. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  12a 

Let  not  Medea  draw  her  murthering  knife, 
And  spill  her  children's  blood  upon  the  stage. 

The  French  have  therefore  refined  too  much  upon  Horace's 
rule,  who  never  designed  to  banish  all  kinds  of  death 
from  the  stage;  but  only  such  as  had  too  much  horror 
in  them,  and  which  would  have  a  better  effect  upon  the 
audience  when  transacted  behind  the  scenes.  I  would 
therefore  recommend  to  my  countrymen  the  practice  of 
the  ancient  poets,  who  were  very  sparing  of  their  public 
executions,  and  rather  chose  to  perform  them  behind  the 
scenes,  if  it  could  be  done  with  as  great  an  effect  upon 
the  audience.  At  the  same  time  I  must  observe,  that 
though  the  devoted  persons  of  the  tragedy  were  seldom 
slain  before  the  audience,  which  has  generally  something 
ridiculous  in  it,  their  bodies  were  often  produced  after 
their  death,  which  has  always  in  it  something  melancholy 
or  terrifying;  so  that  the  killing  on  the  stage  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  avoided  only  as  an  indecency,  but  also 
as  an  improbability. 

Nee  pueros  coram  populo  Medea  trucidet; 
Aut  humana  palam  coquat  exta  nefarius  Atreus; 
Aut  in  avem  Progne  vertatur,  Cadmus  in  anguen* 
Quodcunque  ostendis  mihi  sic,  incredulus  odi. 

—Hob. 

Medea  must  not  draw  her  murthering  knife, 
Nor  Atreus  there  his  horrid  feast  prepare, 
Cadmus  and  Progne's  metamorphosis, 
(She  to  a  swallow  turned,  he  to  a  snake ^ 
And  whatsoever  contradicts  my  sense, 
I  hate  to  see,  and  never  can  believe. 

— KOSCOMMON. 

I  have  now  gone  through  the  several  dramatic  inven- 
tions which  are  made  use  of  by  the  ignorant  poets  to 
supply  the  place  of  tragedy,  and  by  the  skilful  to  improve 
it;  some  of  which  I  could  wish  entirely  rejected,  and  the 
rest  to  be  used  with  caution.  It  would  be  an  endless  task 
to  consider  comedy  in  the  same  light,  and  to  mention  the 


124  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

innumerable  shifts  that  small  wits  put  in  practice  to  raise 
a  laugh.  Bullock  in  a  short  coat,  and  Norris  in  a  long 
one,  seldom  fail  of  this  effect.  In  ordinary  comedies,  a 
broad  and  a  narrow  brimmed  hat  are  different  char- 
acters. Sometimes  the  wit  of  the  scene  lies  in  a  shoulder- 
belt,  and  sometimes  in  a  pair  of  whiskers.  A  lover 
running  about  the  stage,  with  his  head  peeping  out  of 
a  barrel,  was  thought  a  very  good  jest  in  King  Charles 
the  Second^s  time;  and  invented  by  one  of  the  first  wits 
of  that  age.  But  because  ridicule  is  not  so  delicate  as 
compassion,  and  because  the  objects  that  make  us  laugh 
are  infinitely  more  numerous  than  those  that  make  us 
weep,  there  is  a  much  greater  latitude  for  comic  than 
tragic  artifices,  and  by  consequence  a  much  greater  in- 
dulgence to  be  allowed  them. 

[Spectator  No.  47.    Tuesday,  April  24,  1711.    Addison.] 
Ride,  si  sapis — ^  — Mart. 

Mr.  Hobbs,  in  his  Discourse  of  Human  Nature,  which 
in  my  humble  opinion  is  much  the  best  of  all  his  works, 
after  some  very  curious  observations  upon  laughter,  con- 
cludes thus :  "The  passion  of  laughter  is  nothing  else  but 
sudden  glory  arising  from  some  sudden  conception  of  some 
eminency  in  ourselves,  by  comparison  with  the  infirmity 
of  others,  or  with  our  own  formerly:  for  men  laugh  at 
the  follies  of  themselves  past,  when  they  come  suddenly 
to  remembrance,  except  they  bring  with  them  any  present 
dishonor." 

According  to  this  author,  therefore,  when  we  hear  a 
man  laugh  excessively,  instead  of  saying  he  is  very 
merry,  we  ought  to  tell  him  he  is  very  proud.  And, 
indeed,  if  we  look  into  the  bottom  of  this  matter,  we  shall 
meet  with  many  observations  to  confirm  us  in  this  opin- 
ion. Everyone  laughs  at  somebody  that  is  in  an  inferior 
state  of  folly  to  himself.    It  was  formerly  the  custom  for 

^  Laugh,  if  you're  wise. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  125 

every  great  house  in  England  to  keep  a  tame  fool  dressed 
in  petticoats,  that  the  heir  of  the  family  might  have  an 
opportunity  of  joking  upon  him,  and  diverting  himself 
with  his  absurdities.  Eor  the  same  reason,  idiots  are  still 
in  request  in  most  of  the  courts  of  Germany,  where  there 
is  not  a  prince  of  any  great  magnificence,  who  has  not 
two  or  three  dressed,  distinguished,  undisputed  fools  in 
his  retinue,  whom  the  rest  of  the  courtiers  are  always 
breaking  their  jests  upon. 

The  Dutch,  who  are  more  famous  for  their  industry 
and  application  than  for  wit  and  humor,  hang  up  in 
several  of  their  streets  what  they  call  the  sign  of  the 
Gaper,  that  is,  the  head  of  an  idiot  dressed  in  a  cap  and 
bells,  and  gaping  in  a  most  immoderate  manner.  This 
is  a  standing  jest  at  Amsterdam. 

Thus  everyone  diverts  himself  with  some  person  or 
other  that  is  below  him  in  point  of  understanding,  and 
triumphs  in  the  superiority  of  his  genius,  whilst  he  has 
such  objects  of  derision  before  his  eyes.  Mr.  Dennis  has 
very  well  expressed  this  in  a  couple  of  humorous  lines 
which  are  part  of  a  translation  of  a  satire  in  Monsieur 
Boileau : 

"Thus  one  fool  lolls  his  tongue  out  at  another, 
And  shakes  his  empty  noddle  at  his  brother." 

Mr.  Hobbs^s  reflection  gives  us  the  reason  why  the 
insignificant  people  above  mentioned  are  stirrers-up  of 
laughter  among  men  of  a  gross  taste:  but  as  the  more 
understanding  part  of  mankind  do  not  find  their  risibility 
affected  by  such  ordinary  objects,  it  may  be  worth  the 
while  to  examine  into  the  several  provocatives  of  laughter 
in  men  of  superior  sense  and  knowledge. 

In  the  first  place  I  must  observe,  that  there  is  a  set 
of  merry  drolls,  whom  the  common  people  of  all  countries 
admire,  and  seem  to  love  so  well,  "that  they  could  eat 
them,''  according  to  the  old  proverb:  I  mean  those  cir- 
cumforaneous  wits  whom  every  nation  calls  by  the  name 
of  that  dish  of  meat  which  it  loves  best : — in  Holland  they 


126  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

are  termed  Pickled  Herrings;  in  France,  Jeaij  Pottages; 
in  Italy,  Maccaronies;  and  in  Great  Britain,  Jack  Pud- 
dings. These  merry  wags,  from  whatsoever  food  they 
receive  their  titles,  that  they  may  make  their  audiences 
laugh,  always  appear  in  a  fool's  coat,  and  commit  such 
blunders  and  mistakes  in  every  step  they  take,  and  every 
word  they  utter,  as  those  who  listen  to  them  would  be 
ashamed  of. 

But  this  little  triimiph  of  the  understanding,  under  the 
disguise  of  laughter,  is  nowhere  more  visible  than  in  that 
custom  which  prevails  everywhere  among  us  on  the  first 
day  of  the  present  month,  when  everybody  takes  it  in  his 
head  to  make  as  many  fools  as  he  can.  In  proportion  as 
there  are  more  follies  discovered,  so  there  is  more  laughter 
raised  on  this  day  than  on  any  other  day  in  the  whole 
year.  A  neighbor  of  mine,  who  is  a  haberdasher  by  trade, 
and  a  very  shallow,  conceited  fellow,  makes  his  boast 
that  for  these  ten  years  successively  he  has  not  made  less 
than  a  hundred  April  fools.  My  landlady  had  a  falling 
out  with  him  about  a  fortnight  ago,  for  sending  every 
one  of  her  children  upon  some  sleeveless  errand,  as  she 
terms  it.  Her  eldest  son  went  to  buy  a  half-pennyworth 
of  incle  at  a  shoemaker's;  the  eldest  daughter  was  de- 
spatched half-a-mile  to  see  a  monster;  and,  in  short,  the 
whole  family  of  innocent  children  made  April  fools.  Nay, 
my  landlady  herself  did  not  escape  him.  This  empty- 
fellow  has  laughed  upon  these  conceits  ever  since. 

This  art  of  wit  is  well  enough,  when  confined  to  one 
day  in  a  twelvemonth;  but  there  is  an  ingenious  tribe  of 
men  sprung  up  of  late  years,  who  are  for  making  April 
fools  every  day  in  the  year.  These  gentlemen  are  com- 
monly distinguished  by  the  name  of  Biters :  a  race  of  men 
that  are  perpetually  employed  in  laughing  at  those  mis- 
takes which  are  of  their  own  production. 

Thus  we  see,  in  proportion  as  one  man  is  more  refined 
than  another,  he  chooses  his  fool  out  of  a  lower  or  higher 
class  of  mankind,  or,  to  speak  in  a  more  philosophical 
language,  that  secret  elation  and  pride  of  heart,  which  is 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  127 

generally  called  laughter,  arises  in  him,  from  his  com- 
paring himself  with  an  object  below  him,  whether  it  so 
happens  that  it  be  a  natural  or  an  artificial  fool.  It  is; 
indeed,  very  possible,  that  the  persons  we  laugh  at  may 
in  the  main  of  their  characters  be  much  wiser  men  than 
ourselves;  but  if  they  would  have  us  laugh  at  them,  they 
must  fall  short  of  us  in  those  respects  which  stir  up  this 
passion. 

I  am  afraid  I  shall  appear  too  abstracted  in  my  specu- 
lations, if  I  show  that  when  a  man  of  wit  makes  us 
laugh,  it  is  by  betraying  some  oddness  or  infirmity  in  his 
own  character,  or  in  the  representation  which  he  makes 
of  others;  and  that  when  we  laugh  at  a  brute,  or  even  at 
an  inanimate  thing,  it  is  at  some  action  or  incident  that 
bears  a  remote  analogy  to  any  blunder  or  absurdity  in 
reasonable  creatures. 

But  to  come  into  common  life:  I  shall  pass  by  the 
consideration  of  those  stage  coxcombs  that  are  able  to 
shake  a  whple  audience,  and  take  notice  of  a  particular 
sort  of  men  who  are  such  provokers  of  mirth  in  conver- 
sation, that  it  is  impossible  for  a  club  or  merry  meeting 
to  subsist  without  them;  I  mean,  those  honest  gentlemen 
that  are  always  exposed  to  the  wit  and  raillery  of  their 
well-wishers  and  companions;  that  are  pelted  by  men, 
women,  and  children,  friends  and  foes,  and  in  a  word, 
stand  as  butts  in  conversation,  for  every  one  to  shoot  at 
that  pleases.  I  know  several  of  these  butts  who  are  men 
of  wit  and  sense,  though  by  some  odd  turn  of  humor,  some 
unlucky  cast  in  their  person  or  behavior,  they  have  always 
the  misfortune  to  make  the  company  merry.  The  truth 
of  it  is,  a  man  is  not  qualified  for  a  butt,  who  has  not 
a  good  deal  of  wit  and  vivacity,  even  in  the  ridiculous 
side  of  his  character.  A  stupid  butt  is  only  fit  for  the 
conversation  of  ordinary  people:  men  of  wit  require  one 
that  will  give  them  play,  and  bestir  himself  in  the  absurd 
part  of  his  behavior.  A  butt  with  these  accomplishments 
frequently  gets  the  laugh  on  his  side,  and  turns  the  ridi- 
cule upon  him  that  attacks  him.     Sir  John  Falstaff  was 


128  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

a  hero  of  this  species,  and  gives  a  good  description  of 
himself  in  his  capacity  of  a  butt,  after  the  following 
manner: — "Men  of  all  sorts,"  says  that  merry  knight, 
"take  a  pride  to  gird  at  me.  The  brain  of  man  is  not 
able  to  invent  anything  that  tends  to  laughter  more  than 
I  invent,  or  is  invented  on  me.  I  am  not  only  witty  in 
myseK,  but  the  cause  that  wit  is  in  other  men/^  C. 


[Spectator  No.  49.    Thursday,  April  26,  1711.    Steele.] 

Hominem  pagina  nostra  sapit.* 

— Mart, 


It  is  very  natural  for  a  man  who  is  not  turned  for 
mirthful  meetings  of  men,  or  assemblies  of  the  fair  sex, 
to  delight  in  that  sort  of  conversation  which  we  find  in 
coffee-houses.  Here  a  man  of  my  temper  is  in  his  ele- 
ment; for,  if  he  cannot  talk,  he  can  still  be  more  agree- 
able to  his  company,  as  well  as  pleased  in  himself,  in 
being  only  a  hearer.  It  is  a  secret  known  but  to  few, 
yet  of  no  small  use  in  the  conduct  of  life,  that  when  you 
fall  into  a  man's  conversation,  the  first  thing  you  should 
consider  is,  whether  he  has  a  greater  inclination  to  hear 
you,  or  that  you  should  hear  him.  The  latter  is  the 
more  general  desire,  and  I  know  very  able  flatterers  that 
never  speak  a  word  in  praise  of  the  persons  from  whom 
they  obtain  daily  favors,  but  still  practise  a  skilful  atten- 
tion to  whatever  is  uttered  by  those  with  whom  they  con- 
verse. We  are  very  curious  to  observe  the  behavior  of 
great  men  and  their  clients;  but  the  same  passions  and 
interests  move  men  in  lower  spheres;  and  I  (that  have 
nothing  else  to  do  but  make  observations)  see  in  every 
parish,  street,  lane,  and  alley  of  this  populous  city,  a  little 
potentate  that  has  his  court  and  his  flatterers,  who  lay 
snares  for  his  affection  and  favor,  by  the  same  arts  that 
are  practised  upon  men  in  higher  stations. 

^  Men  and   their  manners  I   describe. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  129 

In  the  place  I  most  usually  frequent,  men  differ  rather 
in  the  time  of  day  in  which  they  make  a  figure,  than  in 
any  real  greatness  above  one  another.  I,  who  am  at  the 
coffee-house  at  six  in  the  morning,  know  that  my  friend 
Beaver,  the  haberdasher,  has  a  levee  of  more  undissembled 
friends  and  admirers  than  most  of  the  courtiers  or  gen- 
erals of  Great  Britain.  Every  man  about  him  has,  per- 
haps, a  newspaper  in  his  hand;  but  none  can  pretend 
to  guess  what  step  will  be  taken  in  any  one  court  of 
Europe  till  Mr.  Beaver  has  thrown  down  his  pipe,  and 
declares  what  measures  the  allies  must  enter  into  upon 
this  new  posture  of  affairs.  Our  coffee-house  is  near  one 
of  the  inns  of  court,  and  Beaver  has  the  audience  and 
admiration  of  his  neighbors  from  six  till  within  a  quarter 
of  eight,  at  which  time  he  is  interrupted  by  the  students 
of  the  house;  some  of  whom  are  ready  dressed  for  West- 
minster at  eight  in  the  morning,  with  faces  as  busy  as  if 
they  were  retained  in  every  cause  there;  and  others  come 
in  their  night-gowns  to  saunter  away  their  time  as  if 
they  never  designed  to  go  thither.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
meet  in  any  of  my  walks,  objects  which  move  both  my 
spleen  and  laughter  so  effectually  as  those  young  fellows 
at  the  Grecian,  Squire's,  Searle's,^  and  all  other  coffee- 
houses adjacent  to  the  law,  who  rise  early  for  no  other 
purpose  but  to  publish  their  laziness.  One  would  think 
that  these  young  virtuosos  take  a  gay  cap  and  slippers, 
with  a  scarf  and  party-colored  gown,  to  be  ensigns  of 
dignity;  for  the  vain  things  approach  each  other  with  an 
air  which  shows  they  regard  one  another  for  their  vest- 
ments. I  have  observed  that  the  superiority  among  these 
proceeds  from  an  opinion  of  gallantry  and  fashion.  The 
gentleman  in  the  strawberry  sash,  who  presides  so  much 
over  the  rest,  has,  it  seems,  subscribed  to  every  opera  this 
last  winter,  and  is  supposed  to  receive  favors  from  one 
of  the  actresses. 

When  the  day  grows  too  busy  for  these  gentlemen  to 

*  The  Grecian  was  by  the  Temple ;  Squire's  by  Gray's  Inn ;  and 
Searle's   by   Lincoln's   Inn. 


130  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

enjoy  any  longer  the  pleasures  of  their  deshabille,  with 
any  manner  of  confidence,  they  give  place  to  men  who 
have  business  or  good  sense  in  their  faces,  and  come  to 
the  cojSFee-house  either  to  transact  affairs,  or  enjoy  con- 
versation. The  persons  to  whose  behavior  and  discourse 
I  have  most  regard,  are  such  as  are  between  these  two 
sorts  of  men;  such  as  have  not  spirits  too  active  to  be 
happy,  and  well  pleased  in  a  private  condition;  nor 
complexions  too  warm  to  make  them  neglect  the  duties 
and  relations  of  life.  Of  these  sort  of  men  consist  the 
worthier  part  of  mankind;  of  these  are  all  good  fathers, 
generous  brothers,  sincere  friends,  and  faithful  subjects. 
Their  entertainments  are  derived  rather  from  reason  than 
imagination;  which  is  the  cause  that  there  is  no  impa- 
tience or  instability  in  their  speech  or  action.  You  see 
in  their  countenances  they  are  at  home,  and  in  quiet 
possession  of  the  present  instant  as  it  passes,  without 
desiring  to  quicken  it  by  gratifying  any  passion,  or 
prosecuting  any  new  design.  These  are  the  men  formed 
for  society,  and  those  little  communities  which  we  ex- 
press by  the  word  neighborhoods. 

The  coffee-house  is  the  place  of  rendezvous  to  all  that 
live  near  it,  who  are  thus  turned  to  relish  calm  and 
ordinary  life.  Eubulus  presides  over  the  middle  hours 
of  the  day,  when  this  assembly  of  men  meet  together. 
He  enjoys  a  great  fortune  handsomely,  without  launching 
into  expense;  and  exerts  many  noble  and  useful  qualities, 
without  appearing  in  any  public  employment.  His  wis- 
dom and  knowledge  are  serviceable  to  all  that  think  fit  to 
make  use  of  them;  and  he  does  the  office  of  a  counsel,  a 
judge,  an  executor,  and  a  friend  to  all  his  acquaintance, 
not  only  without  the  profits  which  attend  such  offices,  but 
also  without  the  deference  and  homage  which  are  usually 
paid  to  them.  The  giving  of  thanks  is  displeasing  to 
him.  The  greatest  gratitude  you  can  show  him,  is  to 
let  him  see  you  are  the  better  man  for  his  services;  and 
that  you  are  as  ready  to  oblige  others,  as  he  is  to  oblige 
you. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  181 

In  the  private  exigencies  of  his  friends  he  lends,  at  legal 
value,  considerable  sums,  which  he  might  highly  increase 
by  rolling  in  the  public  stocks.  He  does  not  consider  in 
whose  hands  his  money  will  improve  most,  but  where  it 
will  do  most  good. 

Eubulus  has  so  great  an  authority  in  his  little  diurnal 
audience,  that  when  he  shakes  his  head  at  any  piece  of 
public  news,  they  all  of  them  appear  dejected;  and,  on 
the  contrary,  go  home  to  their  dinners  with  a  good 
stomach  and  cheerful  aspect  when  Eubulus  seems  to  inti- 
mate that  things  go  well.  Nay,  their  veneration  towards 
him  is  so  great,  that  when  they  are  in  other  company  they 
speak  and  act  after  him ;  are  wise  in  his  sentences,  and  are 
no  sooner  sat  down  at  their  own  tables,  but  they  hope  or 
fear,  rejoice  or  despond,  as  they  saw  him  do  at  the  coffee- 
house. In  a  word,  every  man  is  Eubulus  as  soon  as  his 
back  is  turned. 

Having  here  given  an  account  of  the  several  reigns  that 
succeed  each  other  from  daybreak  till  dinner-time,  I  shall 
mention  the  monarchs  of  the  afternoon  on  another  occa- 
sion, and  shut  up  the  whole  series  of  them  with  the  his- 
tory of  Tom  the  Tyrant;  who,  as  first  minister  of  the 
coffee-house,  takes  the  government  upon  him  between  the 
hours  of  eleven  and  twelve  at  night,  and  gives  his  orders 
in  the  most  arbitrary  manner  to  the  servants  below  him, 
as  to  the  disposition  of  liquors,  coal,  and  cinders.        K. 

[Spectator  No.  59.    Tuesday,  May  8,  1711.    Addison.] 

Operose  nihil  agunt.* — Sen. 

There  is  nothing  more  certain  than  that  every  man 
would  be  a  wit  if  he  could,  and  notwithstanding  pedants  of 
pretended  depth  and  solidity  are  apt  to  decry  the  writings 
of  a  polite  author,  as  flash  and  froth,  they  all  of  them 
show  upon  occasion  that  they  would  spare  no  pains  to 
arrive   at   the   character   of   those  whom   they   seem  to 

*  Busy  about  nothing. 


132  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

despise.  For  this  reason  we  often  find  them  endeavoring 
at  works  of  fancy,  which  cost  them  infinite  pangs  in  the 
production.  The  truth  of  it  is,  a  man  had  better  be  a 
galley-slave  than  a  wit,  were  one  to  gain  that  title  by 
those  elaborate  trifles  which  have  been  the  inventions  of 
such  authors  as  were  often  masters  of  great  learning, 
but  no  genius. 

In  my  last  paper  I  mentioned  some  of  those  false  wits 
among  the  ancients,  and  in  this  shall  give  the  reader 
two  or  three  other  species  of  them  that  flourished  in  the 
same  early  ages  of  the  world.  The  first  I  shall  produce 
are  the  Lipogrammatists  or  letter-droppers  of  antiquity, 
that  would  take  an  exception,  without  any  reason,  against 
some  particular  letter  in  the  alphabet,  so  as  not  to  admit 
it  once  into  a  whole  poem.  One  Tryphiodorus  was  a  great 
master  in  this  kind  of  writing.  He  composed  an  Odyssey 
or  epic  poem  on  the  adventures  of  Ulysses,  consisting  of 
four  and  twenty  books,  having  entirely  banished  the  letter 
A  from  his  first  book,  which  was  called  Alpha  (as  lucus  a 
non  lucendo)  because  there  was  not  an  Alpha  in  it.  His 
second  book  was  inscribed  Beta,  for  the  same  reason.  In 
short,  the  poet  excluded  the  whole  four  and  twenty  letters 
in  their  turns,  and  showed  them,  one  after  another,  that 
he  could  do  his  business  without  them. 

It  must  have  been  very  pleasant  to  have  seen  this  poet 
avoiding  the  reprobate  letter,  as  much  as  another  would 
a  false  quantity,  and  making  his  escape  from  it  through 
the  several  Greek  dialects,  when  he  was  pressed  with  it 
in  any  particular  syllable.  For  the  most  apt  and  elegant 
word  in  the  whole  language  was  rejected,  like  a  diamond 
with  a  flaw  in  it,  if  it  appeared  blemished  with  a  wrong 
letter.  I  shall  only  observe  upon  this  head,  that  if  the 
work  I  have  here  mentioned  had  been  now  extant,  the 
Odyssey  of  Tryphiodorus,  in  all  probability,  would  have 
been  oftener  quoted  by  our  learned  pedants,  than  the 
Odyssey  of  Homer.  What  a  perpetual  fund  would  it  have 
been  of  obsolete  words  and  phrases,  unusual  barbarisms 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  133 

and  rusticities,  absurd  spellings  and  complicated  dialects? 
I  make  no  question  but  it  would  have  been  looked  upon 
as  one  of  the  most  valuable  treasuries  of  the  Greek  tongue. 
I  find  likewise  among  the  ancients  that  ingenious  kind 
of  conceit,  which  the  moderns  distinguish  by  the  name 
of  rebus,  that  does  not  sink  a  letter  but  a  whole  word, 
by  substituting  a  picture  in  its  place.  When  Caesar  was 
one  of  the  masters  of  the  Roman  mint,  he  placed  the 
figure  of  an  elephant  upon  the  reverse  of  the  public 
money;  the  word  Caesar  signifying  an  elephant  in  the 
Punic  language.  This  was  artificially  contrived  by 
Caesar,  because  it  was  not  lawful  for  a  private  man  to 
stamp  his  own  figure  upon  the  coin  of  the  commonwealth, 
Cicero,  who  was  so  called  from  the  founder  of  his  family, 
that  was  marked  on  the  nose  with  a  little  wen  like  a 
vetch  (which  is  cicer  in  Latin)  instead  of  Marcus  TuUius 
Cicero,  ordered  the  words  Marcus  TuUius  with  the  figure 
of  a  vetch  at  the  end  of  them  to  be  inscribed  on  a  public 
monument.  This  was  done  probably  to  show  that  he  was 
neither  ashamed  of  his  name  or  family,  notwithstanding 
the  envy  of  his  competitors  had  often  reproached  him 
with  both.  In  the  same  manner  we  read  of  a  famous 
building  that  was  marked  in  several  parts  of  it  with 
the  figures  of  a  frog  and  a  lizard;  those  words  in  Greek 
having  been  the  names  of  the  architects,  who  by  the  laws 
of  their  country  were  never  permitted  to  inscribe  their 
own  names  upon  their  works.  For  the  same  reason  it  is 
thought,  that  the  forelock  of  the  horse  in  the  antique 
equestrian  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  represents  at  a 
distance  the  shape  of  an  owl,  to  intimate  the  country  of 
the  statuary,  who,  in  all  probability  was  an  Athenian. 
This  kind  of  wit  was  very  much  in  vogue  among  our 
own  countrymen  about  an  age  or  two  ago,  who  did  not 
practise  it  for  any  oblique  reason,  as  the  ancients  above 
mentioned,  but  purely  for  the  sake  of  being  witty. 
Among  innumerable  instances  that  may  be  given  of  this 
nature,  I  shall  produce  the  device  of  one  Mr.  Newberry, 


134  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

as  I  find  it  mentioned  by  our  learned  Camden  in  his 
Remains.  Mr.  Newberry,  to  represent  his  name  by  a  pic- 
ture, hung  up  at  his  door  the  sign  of  a  yew  tree,  that  had 
several  berries  upon  it,  and  in  the  midst  of  them  a 
great  golden  N  hung  upon  a  bough  of  the  tree,  which  by 
the  help  of  a  little  false  spelling  made  up  the  word 
N-ew-berry. 

I  shall  conclude  this  topic  with  a  rebus,  which  has 
been  lately  hewn  out  in  free-stone,  and  erected  over  two 
of  the  portals  of  Blenheim  house,  being  the  figure  of  a 
monstrous  lion  tearing  to  pieces  a  little  cock.  For  the 
better  understanding  of  which  device,  I  must  acquaint  my 
English  reader  that  a  cock  has  the  misfortune  to  be  called 
in  Latin  by  the  same  word  that  signifies  a  Frenchman,  as 
a  lion  is  the  emblem  of  the  English  nation.  Such  a 
device  in  so  noble  a  pile  of  building  looks  like  a  pun  in 
an  heroic  poem ;  and  I  am  very  sorry  the  truly  ingenious 
architect  would  suffer  the  statuary  to  blemish  his  excel- 
lent plan  with  so  poor  a  conceit :  but  I  hox)e  what  I  have 
said  will  gain  quarter  for  the  cock,  and  deliver  him  out 
of  the  lion's  paw. 

I  find  likewise  in  ancient  times  the  conceit  of  making 
an  echo  talk  sensibly,  and  give  rational  answers.  If  this 
could  be  excusable  in  any  writer,  it  would  be  in  Ovid, 
where  he  introduces  the  echo  as  a  nymph,  before  she  was 
worn  away  into  nothing  but  a  voice.  The  learned  Eras- 
mus, though  a  man  of  wit  and  genius,  has  composed  a 
dialogue  upon  this  silly  kind  of  device,  and  made  use  of 
an  echo  who  seems  to  have  been  a  very  extraordinary 
linguist,  for  she  answers  the  person  she  talks  with  in 
Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew,  according  as  she  found  the 
syllables  which  she  was  to  repeat  in  any  of  those  learned 
languages.  Hudihras,  in  ridicule  of  this  false  kind  of 
wit,  has  described  Bruin  bewailing  the  loss  of  his  bear 
to  a  solitary  echo,  who  is  of  great  use  to  the  poet  in 
several  distichs,  as  she  does  not  only  repeat  after  him, 
but  helps  out  his  verse,  and  furnishes  him  with  rimes. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  135 

He  raged,  and  kept  as  heavy  a  coil  as 

Stout  Hercules  for  loss  of  Hylas; 

Forcing  the  valleys  to  repeat 

The  accents   of  his  sad  regret; 

He  beat  his  breast,  and  tore  his  hair, 

For  loss  of  his  dear  crony  bear. 

That  Echo  from  the  hollow  ground 

His  doleful  wailings  did  resound 

More  wistfully,  by  many  times, 

Than  in  small  poets  splay-foot  rimes. 

That  make  her,  in  their  rueful  stories, 

To  answer  to  int'rogatories. 

And  most  unconscionably  depose 

Things  of  which  she  nothing  knows: 

And  when  she  has  said  all  she  can  say, 

'Tis  wrested  to  the  lover's  fancy. 

Quoth  he,  0  whether,  wicked  Bruin, 

Art  thou  fled  to  my — Echo,  Ruin? 

I  thought  th'  hadst  scorned  to  budge  a  step 

For  fear;    (quoth  Echo)    Marry  guep. 

Am  not  I  here  to  take  thy  part! 

Then  what  has  quelled  thy  stubborn  heart? 

Have  these  bones  rattled,  and  this  head 

So  often  in  thy  quarrel  bled? 

Kor  did  I  ever  winch  or  grudge  it, 

For  thy  dear  sake,     (quoth  she)     Mum  budget. 

Think'st  thou  'twill  not  be  laid  i'  th'  dish— 

Thou  turnd'st  thy  back?     Quoth  Echo,  Pish. 

To  run  from  those  th'  hadst  overcome 

Thus  cowardly?     Quoth  Echo,  Mum. 

But  what  a-vengeance  makes  thee  fly 

From  me  too,  as  thine  enemy? 

Or  if  thou  hadst  no  thought  of  me, 

Nor  what  I  have  endured  for  thee. 

Yet  shame  and  honor  might  prevail 

To  keep  thee  thus  from  turning  tail: 

For   who  would   grudge   to   spend   his   blood   in 

His  honor's  cause?     Quoth  she,  A  pudding. 


136  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

[Spectator  No.  60.    Wednesday,  May  9,  1711.    Addison.] 

Hoc  est  quod  pallesf     Cur  quis  non  prandeat,  hos  estf^ 

— ^Pers.  Sat.  iii. 

Several  kinds  of  false  wit  that  vanished  in  the  refined 
ages  of  the  world,  discovered  themselves  again  in  the 
times  of  monkish  ignorance. 

As  the  monks  were  the  masters  of  all  that  little  learn- 
ing which  was  then  extant,  and  had  their  whole  lives 
entirely  disengaged  from  business,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
several  of  them,  who  wanted  genius  for  higher  perform- 
ances, employed  many  hours  in  the  composition  of  such 
tricks  in  writing  as  required  much  time  and  little  capacity. 
I  have  seen  half  the  JEneid  turned  into  Latin  rimes  by 
one  of  the  heaux  esprits  of  that  dark  age;  who  says,  in 
his  preface  to  it,  that  the  u3Eneid  wanted  nothing  but  the 
sweets  of  rime  to  make  it  the  most  perfect  work  in  its 
kind.  I  have  likewise  seen  an  hymn  in  hexameters  to 
the  Virgin  Mary,  which  filled  a  whole  book,  though  it 
consisted  but  of  the  eight  following  words; 

Tot,  tibi,  sunt,  Virgo,  dotes,  quot,  sidera,  caelo. 

Thou  hast  as  many  virtues,  0  Virgin,  as  there  are  stars  in 
heaven. 

The  poet  rung  the  changes  upon  these  eight  several  words, 
and  by  that  means  made  his  verses  almost  as  numerous 
as  the  virtues  and  the  stars  which  they  celebrated.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  men  who  had  so  much  time  upon  their 
hands,  did  not  only  restore  all  the  antiquated  pieces  of 
false  wit,  but  enriched  the  world  with  inventions  of  their 
own.  It  was  to  this  age  that  we  owe  the  production  of 
anagrams,  which  is  nothing  else  but  a  transmutation  of 
one  word  into  another,  or  the  turning  of  the  same  set 
of  letters  into  different  words;  which  may  change  night 
into  day,  or  black  into  white,  if  Chance,  who  is  the  goddess 

^  Is  it   for   this   you   gain   those   meagre   looks, 
And  sacrifice  your  dinner  to  your  books? 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  137 

that  presides  over  these  sorts  of  composition,  shall  so 
direct.  I  remember  a  witty  author,  in  allusion  to  this 
kind  of  writing,  calls  his  rival,  who  (it  seems)  was  dis- 
torted, and  had  his  limbs  set  in  places  that  did  not 
properly  belong  to  them,  "The  anagram  of  a  man." 

When  the  anagrammatist  takes  a  name  to  work  upon, 
he  considers  it  at  first  as  a  mine  not  broken  up,  which 
will  not  show  the  treasure  it  contains  till  he  shall  have 
spent  many  hours  in  the  search  of  it :  for  it  is  his  business 
to  find  out  one  word  that  conceals  itself  in  another,  and 
to  examine  the  letters  in  all  the  variety  of  stations  in 
which  they  can  possibly  be  arranged.  I  have  heard  of  a 
gentleman  who,  when  this  kind  of  wit  was  in  fashion, 
endeavored  to  gain  his  mistress's  heart  by  it.  She  was 
one  of  the  finest  women  of  her  age,  and  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Lady  Mary  Boon.  The  lover  not  being  able 
to  make  any  thing  of  Mary,  but  certain  liberties  indulged 
to  this  kind  of  writing  converted  it  into  Moll;  and  after 
having  shut  himself  up  for  haK  a  year,  with  indefatigable 
industry  produced  an  anagram.  Upon  the  presenting  it 
to  his  mistress,  who  was  a  little  vexed  in  her  heart  to  see 
herself  degraded  into  Moll  Boon,  she  told  him,  to  his 
infinite  surprise,  that  he  had  mistaken  her  surname,  for 
that  it  was  not  Boon,  but  Bohun. 

Ibi  omnis 

Effusus  labor. 

The  lover  was  thunderstruck  with  his  misfortune,  inso- 
much that  in  a  little  time  after  he  lost  his  senses,  which 
indeed  had  been  very  much  impaired  by  that  continual 
application  he  had  given  to  his  anagram. 

The  acrostic  was  probably  invented  about  the  same  time 
with  the  anagram,  though  it  is  impossible  to  decide 
whether  the  inventor  of  the  one  or  the  other  were  the 
greater  blockhead.  The  simple  acrostic  is  nothing  but  the 
name  or  title  of  a  person  or  thing  made  out  of  the 
initial  letters  of  several  verses,  and  by  that  means  written, 
after  the  manner  of  the  Chinese,  in  a  perpendicular  line. 


138  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

But  besides  these  there  are  compound  acrostics,  when  the 
principal  letters  stand  two  or  three  deep.  I  have  seen 
some  of  them  where  the  verses  have  not  only  been  edged 
by  a  name  at  each  extremity,  but  have  had  the  same 
name  running  down  like  a  seam  through  the  middle  of 
the  poem. 

There  is  another  near  relation  of  the  anagrams  and 
acrostics,  which  is  commonly  called  a  chronogram.  This 
kind  of  wit  appears  very  often  on  many  modern  medals, 
especially  those  of  Germany,  when  they  represent  in  the 
inscription  the  year  in  which  they  were  coined.  Thus 
we  see  on  a  medal  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  the  following 
words,  ChrIstVs  DuX  ergo  trIVMphVs.  If  you  take 
the  pains  to  pick  the  figures  out  of  the  several  words,  and 
range  them  in  their  proper  order,  you  will  find  they 
amount  to  MDCXVVYII,  or  1627,  the  year  in  which  the 
medal  was  stamped :  for  as  some  of  the  letters  distinguish 
themselves  from  the  rest,  and  overtop  their  fellows,  they 
are  to  be  considered  in  a  double  capacity,  both  as  letters 
and  as  figures.  Your  laborious  German  wits  will  turn 
over  a  whole  dictionary  for  one  of  these  ingenious  devices. 
A  man  would  think  they  were  searching  after  an  apt 
classical  term;  but  instead  of  that,  they  are  looking  out  a 
word  that  has  an  L,  an  M,  or  a  D  in  it.  When  therefore 
we  meet  with  any  of  these  inscriptions,  we  are  not  so 
much  to  look  in  them  for  the  thought,  as  for  the  year 
of  the  Lord. 

The  Bouts  Rimez  were  the  favorites  of  the  French  na- 
tion for  a  whole  age  together,  and  that  at  a  time  when 
it  abounded  in  wit  and  learning.  They  were  a  list  of 
words  that  rime  to  one  another,  drawn  up  by  another 
hand,  and  given  to  a  poet,  who  was  to  make  a  poem  to 
the  rimes  in  the  same  order  that  they  were  placed  upon 
the  list:  the  more  uncommon  the  rimes  were,  the  more 
extraordinary  was  the  genius  of  the  poet  that  could 
accommodate  his  verses  to  them.  I  do  not  know  any 
greater  instance  of  the  decay  of  wit  and  learning  among 
the  French    (which  generally   follows  the  declension   of 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  139 

empire)  than  the  endeavoring  to  restore  this  foolish  kind 
of  wit.  If  the  reader  will  be  at  the  trouble  to  see  ex- 
amples of  it,  let  him  look  into  the  new  Mecure  Galant; 
where  the  author  every  month  gives  a  list  of  rimes  to  be 
filled  up  by  the  ingenious,  in  order  to  be  communicated 
to  the  public  in  the  Mercure  for  the  succeeding  month. 
That  for  the  month  of  November  last,  which  now  lies 
before  me,  is  as  follows. 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Lauriers 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Guerriers 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Musette 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Lisette 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Cesars 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Etendars 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Houlette 

—  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  —  Folette 

One  would  be  amazed  to  see  so  learned  a  man  as  Menage 
talking  seriously  on  this  kind  of  trifle  in  the  following 
passage. 

"Monsieur  de  la  Chambre  has  told  me,  that  he  never 
knew  what  he  was  going  to  write  when  he  took  his  pen 
into  his  hand;  but  that  one  sentence  always  produced 
another.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  knew  what  I  should 
write  next  when  I  was  making  verses.  In  the  first  place 
I  got  all  my  rimes  together,  and  was  afterwards  perhaps 
three  or  four  months  in  filling  them  up.  I  one  day  showed 
Monsieur  Gambaud  a  composition  of  this  nature,  in  which 
among  others  I  had  made  use  of  the  four  following  rimes, 
Amaryllis,  Phillis,  Marne,  Arne,  desiring  him  to  give  me 
his  opinion  of  it.  He  told  me  immediately,  that  my  verses 
were  good  for  nothing.  And  upon  my  asking  his  reason, 
he  said,  because  the  rimes  are  too  common;  and  for  that 
reason  easy  to  be  put  into  verse.  Marry,  says  I,  if  it 
be  so,  I  am  very  well  rewarded  for  all  the  pains  I  have 
been  at.  But  by  Monsieur  Gambaud's  leave,  notwith- 
standing the  severity  of  the  criticism,  the  verses  were 


140  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

good/'  Vid,  Menagiana.  Thus  far  the  learned  Menage, 
whom  I  have  translated  word  for  word. 

The  first  occasion  of  these  Bouts  Rimez  made  them  in 
some  manner  excusable,  as  they  were  tasks  which  the 
French  ladies  used  to  impose  on  their  lovers.  But  when 
a  grave  author,  like  him  above  mentioned,  tasked  him- 
self, could  there  be  anything  more  ridiculous?  Or  would 
not  one  be  apt  to  believe  that  the  author  played  booty,  and 
did  not  make  his  list  of  rimes  till  he  had  finished  his 
poem? 

I  shall  only  add,  that  this  piece  of  false  wit  has  been 
finely  ridiculed  by  Monsieur  Sarasin,  in  a  poem  entitled 
La  defaite  des  Bouts-Rimez,  The  Eout  of  the  Bouts- 
Rimez. 

I  must  subjoin  to  this  last  kind  of  wit  the  double 
rimes,  which  are  used  in  doggerel  poetry,  and  generally 
applauded  by  ignorant  readers.  If  the  thought  of  the 
couplet  in  such  compositions  is  good,  the  rime  adds 
little  to  it;  and  if  bad,  it  will  not  be  in  the  power  of  the 
rime  to  recommend  it.  I  am  afraid  that  great  numbers 
of  those  who  admire  the  incomparable  Hudibras,  do  it 
more  on  account  of  these  doggerel  rimes  than  of  the 
parts  that  really  deserve  admiration.  I  am  sure  I  have 
heard  the 

Pulpit,  drum  ecclesiastic, 

Was  beat  with  fist  instead  of  a  stick. 


and 


There  was  an  ancient  sage  philosopher 
Who  had  read  Alexander  Ross  over. 


more  frequently  quoted,  than  the  finest  pieces  of  wit  in 
the  whole  poem. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  141 


[Specta'"or  No.  61.    Thursday,  May  10,  1711.    Addison.] 

Non  equidem  studeo,  bullatis  ut  mihi  nugis 
lagina  turgescat,  dare  pondus  idonea  fumo.^ 

Pers.  Sat.  V.  19. 


There  is  no  kind  of  false  wit  which  has  been  so  recom- 
mended by  the  practise  of  all  ages  as  that  which  consists 
in  a  jingle  of  words,  and  is  comprehended  under  the  gen- 
eral name  of  punning.  It  is  indeed  impossible  to  kill  a 
weed,  which  the  soil  has  a  natural  disposition  to  produce. 
The  seeds  of  punning  are  in  the  minds  of  all  men;  and 
though  they  may  be  subdued  by  reason,  reflection,  and 
good  sense,  they  will  be  very  apt  to  shoot  up  in  the  great- 
est genius  that  is  not  broken  and  cultivated  by  the  rules 
of  art.  Imitation  is  natural  to  us,  and  when  it  does 
not  raise  the  mind  to  poetry,  painting,  music,  or  other 
more  noble  arts,  it  often  breaks  out  in  puns  and  quibbles. 

Aristotle,  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  his  book  of  rhetoric, 
describes  two  or  three  kinds  of  puns,  which  he  calls  para- 
grams,  among  the  beauties  of  good  writing,  and  produces 
instances  of  them  out  of  some  of  the  greatest  authors  in 
the  Greek  tongue.  Cicero  has  sprinkled  several  of  his 
works  with  puns,  and,  in  his  book  where  he  lays  down  the 
rules  of  oratory,  quotes  abundance  of  sayings  as  pieces  of 
wit,  which  also  upon  examination  prove  arrant  puns. 
But  the  age  in  which  the  pun  chiefly  flourished  was  in  the 
reign  of  king  James  the  First.  That  learned  monarch 
was  himself  a  tolerable  punster,  and  made  very  few  bishops 
or  privy-counselors  that  had  not  some  time  or  other  sig- 
nalized themselves  by  a  clinch,  or  a  conundrum.  It  was 
therefore  in  this  age  that  the  pun  appeared  with  pomp 
and  dignity.  It  had  been  before  admitted  into  merry 
speeches  and  ludicrous   compositions,   but  was   now   de- 

I'Tis  not  indeed  my  talent  to  engage 
In  lofty  trifles,   or  to  swell  my  page 
With   wind   and   noise. 


142  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

livered  with  great  gravity  from  the  pulpit,  or  pronounced 
in  the  most  solemn  manner  at  the  council-table.  The 
greatest  authors,  in  their  most  serious  works,  made  fre- 
quent use  of  puns.  The  sermons  of  Bishop  Andrews,  and 
the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare,  are  full  of  them.  The  sin- 
ner was  punned  into  repentance  by  the  former,  as  in  the 
latter  nothing  is  more  usual  than  to  see  a  hero  weeping 
and  quibbling  for  a  dozen  lines  together. 

I  must  add  to  these  great  authorities,  which  seem  to 
have  given  a  kind  of  sanction  to  this  piece  of  false  wit, 
that  all  the  writers  of  rhetoric  have  treated  of  punning 
with  very  great  respect,  and  divided  the  several  kinds 
of  it  into  hard  names,  that  are  reckoned  among  the  figures 
of  speech,  and  recommended  as  ornaments  in  discourse.  I 
remember  a  country  schoolmaster  of  my  acquaintance 
told  me  once  that  he  had  been  in  company  with  a  gentle- 
man whom  he  looked  upon  to  be  the  greatest  paragram- 
matist  among  the  modems.  Upon  inquiry,  I  found  my 
learned  friend  had  dined  with  Mr.  Swan,  the  famous 
punster;  and  desiring  him  to  give  me  some  account  of 
Mr.  Swan's  conversation,  he  told  me  that  he  generally 
talked  in  the  Paranomasia,  that  he  sometimes  gave  into 
the  Ploce,  but  that  in  his  humble  opinion  he  shined  most 
in  the  Antanaclasis. 

I  must  not  here  omit,  that  a  famous  university  of  this 
land  was  formerly  very  much  infested  with  puns;  but 
whether  or  no  this  might  not  arise  from  the  fens  and 
marshes  in  which  it  was  situated,  and  which  are  now 
drained,  I  must  leave  to  the  determination  of  more 
skilful  naturalists. 

After  this  short  history  of  punning,  one  would  wonder 
how  it  should  be  so  entirely  banished  out  of  the  learned 
world  as  it  is  at  present,  especially  since  it  had  found  a 
place  in  the  writings  of  the  most  ancient  polite  authors. 
To  account  for  this  we  must  consider,  that  the  first  race 
of  authors  who  were  the  great  heroes  in  writing,  were 
destitute  of  all  rules  and  arts  of  criticism;  and  for  that 
reason,  though  they  excel  later  writers  in  greatness  of 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  143 

genius,  they  fall  short  of  them  in  accuracy  and  correct- 
ness. The  modems  cannot  reach  their  beauties,  but  can 
avoid  their  imperfections.  When  the  world  was  furnished 
with  these  authors  of  the  first  eminence,  there  grew  up 
another  set  of  writers,  who  gained  themselves  a  reputa- 
tion by  the  remarks  which  they  made  on  the  works  of 
those  who  preceded  them.  It  was  one  of  the  employments 
of  these  secondary  authors  to  distinguish  the  several  kinds 
of  wit  by  terms  of  art,  and  to  consider  them  as  more  or 
less  perfect,  according  as  they  were  founded  in  truth.  It 
is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  even  such  authors  as  Iso- 
crates,  Plato,  and  Cicero  should  have  such  little  blemishes 
as  are  not  to  be  met  with  in  authors  of  a  much  inferior 
character,  who  have  written  since  those  several  blemishes 
were  discovered.  I  do  not  find  that  there  was  a  proper 
separation  made  between  puns  and  true  wit  by  any  of 
the  ancient  authors,  except  Quintilian  and  Longinus. 
But  when  this  distinction  was  once  settled,  it  was  very 
natural  for  all  men  of  sense  to  agree  in  it.  As  for  the 
revival  of  this  false  wit,  it  happened  about  the  time  of 
the  revival  of  letters;  but  as  soon  as  it  was  once  detected, 
it  immediately  vanished  and  disappeared.  At  the  same 
time  there  is  no  question,  but  as  it  has  sunk  in  one  age 
and  rose  in  another,  it  will  again  recover  itself  in  some 
distant  period  of  time,  as  pedantry  and  ignorance  shall 
prevail  upon  wit  and  sense.  And,  to  speak  the  truth,  I 
do  very  much  apprehend,  by  some  of  the  last  winter's 
productions,  which  had  their  sets  of  admirers,  that  our 
posterity  will  in  a  few  years  degenerate  into  a  race  of 
punsters;  at  least,  a  man  may  be  very  excusable  for  any 
apprehensions  of  this  kind,  that  has  seen  acrostics  handed 
about  the  town  with  great  secrecy  and  applause;  to  which 
I  must  also  add  a  little  epigram  called  the  Witches' 
Prayer,  that  fell  into  verse  when  it  was  read  either  back- 
ward or  forward,  excepting  only  that  it  cursed  one  way, 
and  blessed  the  other.  When  one  sees  there  are  actually 
such  painstakers  among  our  British  wits,  who  can  tell 
what  it  may  end  in  ?    If  we  must  lash  one  another,  let  it 


144  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

be  with  the  manly  strokes  of  wit  and  satire;  for  I  am 
of  the  old  philosopher's  opinion,  that,  if  I  must  suffer  from 
one  or  the  other,  I  would  rather  it  should  be  from  the 
paw  of  a  lion  than  from  the  hoof  of  an  ass.  I  do  not 
speak  this  out  of  any  spirit  of  party.  There  is  a  most 
crying  dullness  on  both  sides.  I  have  seen  Tory  acrostics 
and  Whig  anagrams,  and  do  not  quarrel  with  either  of 
them,  because  they  are  Whigs  or  Tories,  but  because  they 
are  anagrams  and  acrostics. 

But  to  return  to  punning.  Having  pursued  the  history 
of  a  pun,  from  its  original  to  its  downfall,  I  shall  here 
define  it  to  be  a  conceit  arising  from  the  use  of  two 
words  that  agree  in  the  sound,  but  differ  in  the  sense.  The 
only  way  therefore  to  try  a  piece  of  wit,  is  to  translate 
it  into  a  different  language.  If  it  bears  the  test,  you 
may  pronounce  it  true;  but  if  it  vanishes  in  the  experi- 
ment, you  may  conclude  it  to  have  been  a  pun.  In  short, 
one  may  say  of  a  pun  as  the  countryman  described  his 
nightingale,  that  it  is  ''vox  et  prceterea  nihil"  "a  sound, 
and  nothing  but  a  sound.''  On  the  contrary,  one  may 
represent  true  wit  by  the  description  which  Aristenetus 
makes  of  a  fine  woman :  when  she  is  dressed  she  is  beauti- 
ful, when  she  is  undressed  she  is  beautiful ;  or,  as  Mercerus 
has  translated  it  more  emphatically,  ''Induitur,  formosa 
est:  exuitur,  ipsa  forma  est/*  C. 


[Spectator  No.  66.    Wednesday,  May  16,  1711.    Steele.] 

Motus  doceri  gaudet  lonicos 
Mktura  virgo;   et  fingitur  artubus 
Jam  nunc,  et  incestos  amores 
De  tenero  meditatur  ungui.^ 

Hob.  3  Od.  vi.  21.: 

1  Behold  a  ripe  and  melting  maid 
Bound   'prectice   to   the   wanton   trade : 
Ionian  artists  at  a  mighty   price. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  145 

The  two  following  letters  are  upon  a  subject  of  very 
great  importance,  though  expressed  without  any  air  of 
gravity : — 


"TO  THE  SPECTATOE. 

^^SlR, 

"I  take  the  freedom  of  asking  your  advice  in  behalf 
of  a  young  country  kinswoman  of  mine,  who  is  lately 
come  to  town  and  under  my  care  for  her  education.  She 
is  very  pretty,  but  you  can't  imagine  how  unformed  a 
creature  it  is.  She  comes  to  my  hands  just  as  nature 
left  her,  half  finished,  and  without  any  acquired  improve- 
ments. When  I  look  on  her  I  often  think  of  the  Belle 
Sauvage  mentioned  in  one  of  your  papers.  Dear  Mr. 
Spectator,  help  me  to  make  her  comprehend  the  visible 
graces  of  speech,  and  the  dumb  eloquence  of  motion;  for 
she  is  at  present  a  perfect  stranger  to  both.  She  knows 
no  way  to  express  herself  but  by  her  tongue,  and  that 
always  to  signify  her  meaning.  Her  eyes  serve  her  yet 
only  to  see  with,  and  she  is  utterly  a  foreigner  to  the 
language  of  looks  and  glances.  In  this  I  fancy  you  could 
help  her  better  than  anybody.  I  have  bestowed  two 
months  in  teaching  her  to  sigh  when  she  is  not  con- 
cerned, and  to  smile  when  she  is  not  pleased,  and  am 
ashamed  to  own  she  makes  little  or  no  improvement. 
Then  she  is  no  more  able  now  to  walk  than  she  was  to 
go  at  a  year  old.  By  walking  you  will  easily  know  I 
mean  that  regular  but  easy  motion  which  gives  our  per- 
sons so  irresistible  a  grace  as  if  we  moved  to  music,  and 
is  a  kind  of  disengaged  figure;  or,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
recitative  dancing.  But  the  want  of  this  I  cannot  blame 
in  her,  for  I  find  she  has  no  ear,  and  means  nothing  by 
walking  but  to  change  her  place.     I  could  pardon  too  her 

Instruct  her  in  the  mysteries  of  vice, 

What  nets  to  spread,  where  subtle  baits  to  lay  ; 

And  with  an  early  hand  they  form  the  temper'd  clay. 


146  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

blushing,  if  she  knew  how  to  carry  herself  in  it,  and  if 
it  did  not  manifestUy  injure  her  complexion. 

"They  tell  me  you  are  a  person  who  have  seen  the 
world,  and  are  a  judge  of  fine  breeding;  which  makes  me 
ambitious  of  some  instructions  from  you  for  her  improve- 
ment :  which  when  you  have  favored  me  with,  I  shall 
farther  advise  with  you  about  the  disposal  of  this  fair 
forester  in  marriage;  for  I  will  make  it  no  secret  to  you, 
that  her  person  and  education  are  to  be  her  fortune. 
"I  am,  Sir, 

^Tour  very  humble  servant, 

"Celimene." 

"Being  employed  by  Celimene  to  make  up  and  send  to 
you  her  letter,  I  make  bold  to  recommend  the  case  therein 
mentioned  to  your  consideration,  because  she  and  I  happen 
to  differ  a  little  in  our  notions.  I,  who  am  a  rough  man, 
am  afraid  the  young  girl  is  in  a  fair  way  to  be  spoiled: 
therefore  pray,  Mr.  Spectator,  let  us  have  your  opinion 
of  this  fine  thing  called  fine  breeding;  for  I  am  afraid  it 
differs  too  much  from  that  plain  thing  called  good 
breeding. 

"Your  most  humble  servant."  ^ 

The  general  mistake  among  us  in  the  educating  our 
children  is,  that  in  our  daughters  we  take  care  of  their 
persons  and  neglect  their  minds ;  in  our  sons  we  are  so  in- 
tent upon  adorning  their  minds  that  we  wholly  neglect 
their  bodies.  It  is  from  this  that  you  shall  see  a  young 
lady  celebrated  and  admired  in  all  the  assemblies  about 
town,  when  her  elder  brother  is  afraid  to  come  into  a 
room.  From  this  ill  management  it  arises,  that  we  fre- 
quently observe  a  man's  life  is  half  spent  before  he  is 
taken  notice  of;  and  a  woman  in  the  prime  of  her  years 
is  out  of  fashion  and  neglected.     The  boy  I  shall  consider 

^  John  Hughes,  it  is  said,  was  the  author  of  this  and  the  pre- 
ceding letter. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  147 

upon  some  other  occasion,  and  at  present  stick  to  the 
girl:  and  I  am  the  more  inclined  to  this,  because  I  have 
several  letters  which  complain  to  me  that  my  female 
readers  have  not  understood  me  for  some  days  last  past, 
and  take  themselves  to  be  unconcerned  in  the  present  turn 
of  my  writings.  When  a  girl  is  safely  brought  from  her 
nurse,  before  she  is  capable  of  forming  one  simple  notion 
of  anything  in  life,  she  is  delivered  to  the  hands  of  her 
dancing-master;  and  with  a  collar  round  her  neck  the 
pretty  wild  thing  is  taught  a  fantastical  gravity  of  be- 
havior, and .  forced  to  a  particular  way  of  holding  her 
head,  heaving  her  breast,  and  moving  with  her  whole 
body;  and  all  this  under  pain  of  never  having  a  husband 
if  she  steps,  looks,  or  moves  awry.  This  gives  the  young 
lady  wonderful  workings  of  imagination  what  is  to  pass 
between  her  and  this  husband  that  she  is  every  moment 
told  of,  and  for  whom  she  seems  to  be  educated.  Thus 
her  fancy  is  engaged  to  turn  all  her  endeavors  to  the 
ornament  of  her  person  as  what  must  determine  her  good 
and  ill  in  this  life;  and  she  naturally  thinks,  if  she  is 
tall  enough,  she  is  wise  enough  for  anything  for  which 
her  education  makes  her  think  she  is  designed.  To  make 
her  an  agreeable  person  is  the  main  purpose  of  her  par- 
ents ;  to  that  is  all  their  cost,  to  that  all  their  care  directed ; 
and  from  this  general  folly  of  parents  we  owe  our  present 
numerous  race  of  coquettes.  These  reflections  puzzle  me 
when  I  think  of  giving  my  advice  on  the  subject  of 
managing  the  wild  thing  mentioned  in  the  letter  of  my 
correspondent.  But  sure  there  is  a  middle  way  to  be 
followed:  the  management  of  a  young  lady's  person  is 
not  to  be  overlooked,  but  the  erudition  of  her  mind  is 
much  more  to  be  regarded.  According  as  this  is  man- 
aged you  will  see  the  mind  follow  the  appetites  of  the 
body,  or  the  body  express  the  virtues  of  the  mind. 

Cleomira  dances  with  all  the  elegance  of  motion  imagin- 
able; but  her  eyes  are  so  chastised  with  the  simplicity  and 
innocence  of  her  thoughts  that  she  raises  in  her  beholders 
admiration   and   good-will,   but   no   loose   hope   or    wild 


148  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

imagination.  The  true  art  in  this  case  is  to  make  the 
mind  and  body  improve  together;  and,  if  possible,  to  make 
gesture  follow  thought,  and  not  let  thought  be  employed 
upon  gesture.  E. 

[Spectator  No.  70.    Monday,  May  21,  1711.    Addison.] 
Interdum  vulgus  rectum  videt.^ — Hob. 

When  I  traveled,  I  took  a  particular  delight  in  hearing 
the  songs  and  fables  that  are  come  from  father  to  son, 
and  are  most  in  vogue  among  the  common  people  of 
the  countries  through  which  I  passed;  for  it  is  impos- 
sible that  anything  should  be  universally  tasted  and 
approved  by  a  multitude,  though  they  are  only  the  rabble 
of  a  nation,  which  hath  not  in  it  some  peculiar  aptness 
to  please  and  gratify  the  mind  of  man.  Human  nature  is 
the  same  in  all  reasonable  creatures;  and  whatever  falls 
in  with  it,  will  meet  with  admirers  amongst  readers  of  all 
qualities  and  conditions.  Moliere,  as  we  are  told  by 
Monsieur  Boileau,  used  to  read  all  his  comedies  to  an 
old  woman  who  was  his  housekeeper,  as  she  sat  with 
him  at  her  work  by  the  chimney-comer;  and  could  fore- 
tell the  success  of  his  play  in  the  theater,  from  the  recep- 
tion it  met  at  his  fire-side:  for  he  tells  us  the  audience 
always  followed  the  old  woman,  and  never  failed  to  laugh 
in  the  same  place. 

I  know  nothing  which  more  shows  the  essential  and 
inherent  perfection  of  simplicity  of  thought,  above  that 
which  I  call  the  Gothic  manner  in  writing,  than  this; 
the  first  pleases  all  kinds  of  palates,  and  the  latter  only 
such  as  have  formed  to  themselves  a  wrong  artificial  taste 
upon  little  fanciful  authors  and  writers  of  epigram. 
Homer,  Virgil,  or  Milton,  so  far  as  the  language  of  their 
poems  is  understood,  will  please  a  reader  of  plain  com- 
mon sense,  who  would  neither  relish  nor  comprehend  an 
epigram  of  Martial,  or  a  poem   of  Cowley:   so,  on  the 

*  Sometimes  the  vulgar  see  and  judge  aright. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  149 

contrary,  an  ordinary  song  or  ballad  that  is  the  delight 
of  the  common  people,  cannot  fail  to  please  all  such 
readers  as  are  not  unqualified  for  the  entertainment  by 
their  affectation  or  ignorance;  and  the  reason  is  plain, 
because  the  same  paintings  of  nature  which  recommend 
it  to  the  most  ordinary  reader,  will  appear  beautiful  to 
the  most  refined. 

The  old  song  of  Chevy  Chase  is  the  favorite  ballad 
of  the  common  people  of  England;  and  Ben  Jonson  used 
to  say  he  had  rather  have  been  the  author  of  it  than 
of  all  his  works.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  in  his  discourse  of 
Poetry  speaks  of  it  in  the  following  words:  "I  never 
heard  the  old  song  of  Percy  and  Douglas,  that  I  found 
not  my  heart  more  moved  than  with  a  trumpet;  and  yet 
it  is  sung  by  some  blind  crowder  with  no  rougher  voice 
than  rude  style;  which  being  so  evil  appareled  in  the 
dust  and  cobweb  of  that  uncivil  age,  what  would  it  work 
trimmed  in  the  gorgeous  eloquence  of  Pindar?'^  For  my 
own  part,  I  am  so  professed  an  admirer  of  this  antiquated 
song,  that  I  shall  give  my  reader  a  critique  upon  it,  with- 
out any  further  apology  for  so  doing. 

The  greatest  modern  critics  have  laid  it  down  as  a 
rule,  that  an  heroic  poem  should  be  founded  upon  some 
important  precept  of  morality,  adapted  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  country  in  which  the  poet  writes.  Homer  and 
Virgil  have  formed  their  plans  in  this  view.  As  Greece 
was  a  collection  of  many  governments,  who  suffered  very 
much  among  themselves,  and  gave  the  Persian  emperor, 
who  was  their  common  enemy,  many  advantages  over 
them  by  their  mutual  jealousies  and  animosities.  Homer, 
in  order  to  establish  among  them  an  union,  which  was  so 
necessary  for  their  safety,  grounds  his  poem  upon  the 
discords  of  the  several  Grecian  princes  who  were  engaged 
in  a  confederacy  against  an  Asiatic  prince,  and  the  several 
advantages  which  the  enemy  gained  by  such  their  dis- 
cords. At  the  time  the  poem  we  are  now  treating  of 
was  written,  the  dissensions  of  the  barons,  who  were  then 
so  many  petty  princes,  ran  very  high,  whether  they  quar- 


150  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

reled  among  themselves  or  with  their  neighbors,  and 
produced  unspeakable  calamities  to  the  country :  The  poet, 
to  deter  men  from  such  unnatural  contentions,  describes 
a  bloody  battle  and  dreadful  scene  of  death,  occasioned 
by  the  mutual  feuds  which  reigned  in  the  families  of  an 
English  and  Scotch  nobleman:  That  he  designed  this 
for  the  instruction  of  his  poem,  we  may  learn  from  his 
four  last  lines,  in  which,  after  the  example  of  the  modern 
tragedians,  he  draws  from  it  a  precept  for  the  benefit  of 
his  readers. 

God  save  the  King,  and  bless  the  land 

In  plenty,  joy,   and  peace; 
And  grant  henceforth  that  foul  debate 

'Twixt  noblemen  may  cease. 

The  next  point  observed  by  the  greatest  heroic  poets, 
hath  been  to  celebrate  persons  and  actions  which  do  honor 
to  their  country:  thus  Virgil's  hero  was  the  founder  of 
Home,  Homer's  a  prince  of  Greece;  and  for  this  reason 
Valerius  Elaccus  and  Statins,  who  were  both  Romans, 
might  be  justly  derided  for  having  chosen  the  expedition 
of  the  Golden  Fleece,  and  the  Wars  of  Thehes,  for  the  sub- 
ject of  their  epic  writings. 

The  poet  before  us,  has  not  only  found  out  an  hero  in 
his  own  country,  but  raises  the  reputation  of  it  by  several 
beautiful  incidents.  The  English  are  the  first  who  take 
the  field,  and  the  last  who  quit  it.  The  English  bring 
only  fifteen  hundred  to  the  battle,  and  the  Scotch  two 
thousand.  The  English  keep  the  field  with  fifty-three :  the 
Scotch  retire  with  fifty-five:  all  the  rest  on  each  side 
being  slain  in  battle.  But  the  most  remarkable  cir- 
cumstance of  this  kind  is  the  different  manner  in  which 
the  Scotch  and  English  kings  receive  the  news  of  this 
fight,  and  of  the  great  men's  deaths  who  commanded  in  it. 

This  news  was  brought  to   Edinburgh, 

Where  Scotland's  king  did  reign, 
That  brave  Earl  Douglas  suddenly 

Was  with  an  arrow  slain. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  161 

0  heavy  news,  King  James  did  say, 
Scotland  can  witness  be, 

1  have  not  any  captain  more 
Of  such  account  as  he. 

Like  tidings  to  King  Henry  came 

Within  as  short  a  space, 
That  Percy  of  Northumberland 

Was  slain  in  Chevy-Chase. 

Now  God  be  with  him,  said  our  King, 

Sith  'twill  no  better  be, 
I  trust  I  have  within  my  realm 

Five  hundred  as  good  as  he. 

Yet  shall  not  Scot  nor  Scotland  say 

But  I  will  vengeance  take, 
And  be  revenged  on  them  all 

For  brave  Lord  Percy's  sake. 

This  vow  full  well  the  King  performed 

After  on  Humble-down, 
In  one  day  fifty  knights  were  slain, 

With  lords  of  great  renown. 

And  of  the  rest  of  small  account 
Did  many  thousand  die,  etc. 

At  the  same  time  that  our  poet  shows  a  laudable  partiality 
to  his  countrymen,  he  represents  the  Scots  after  a  manner 
not  unbecoming  so  bold  and  brave  a  people. 

Earl  Douglas  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

Most  like  a  baron  bold. 
Rode  foremost  of  the  company. 

Whose  armor  shone  like  gold. 

His  sentiments  and  actions  are  every  way  suitable  to  an 
hero.  One  of  us  two,  says  he,  must  die:  I  am  an  earl  as 
well  as  yourself,  so  that  you  can  have  no  pretence  for 
refusing  the  combat:  however,  says  he,  'tis  pity,  and  in- 
deed would  be  a  sin,  that  so  many  innocent  men  should 


152  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

perish  for  our  sakes,  rather  let  you  and  I  end  our  quarrel 
in  single  fight. 

Ere  thus  I  will  outbraved  be, 

One  of  us  two  shall   die; 
I  know  thee  well,  an  earl  thou  art. 

Lord  Percy,  so  am  I. 

But  trust  me,  Percy,  pity  it  were^ 

And  great  offence,  to  kill 
Any  of  these  our  harmless  men, 

For  they  have  done  no  ill. 

Let  thou  and  I  the  battle  try, 

And  set  our  men  aside; 
Accurs'd  be  he.   Lord  Percy  said, 

By  whom  this  is  denied. 

When  these  brave  men  had  distinguished  themselves  in 
the  battle  and  in  single  combat  with  each  other,  in  the 
midst  of  a  generous  parley,  full  of  heroic  sentiments,  the 
Scotch  earl  falls;  and  with  his  dying  words  encourages 
his  men  to  revenge  his  death,  representing  to  them,  as 
the  most  bitter  circumstance  of  it,  that  his  rival  saw  him 
fall. 

With  that  there  came  an  arrow  keen 

Out  of   an   English   bow, 
Which  struck  Earl  Douglas  to  the  heart 

A  deep  and  deadly  blow. 

Who  never  spoke  more  words  than  these, 

Fight  on  my  merry  men  all. 
For  why,  my  life  is  at  an  end, 

Lord  Percy  sees  my  fall. 

^^Merry  men,''  in  the  language  of  those  times,  is  no 
more  than  a  cheerful  word  for  companions  and  fellow- 
soldiers.  A  passage  in  the  eleventh  book  of  Virgil's 
^neids  is  very  much  to  be  admired,  where  Camilla  in  her 
last  agonies,  instead  of  weeping  over  the  wound  she  had 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  163 

received,  as  one  might  have  expected  from  a  warrior  of 
her  sex,  considers  only  (like  the  hero  of  whom  we  are  now 
speaking)  how  the  battle  should  be  continued  after  her 
death. 

Turn  sic  expirans,  etc. 

A  gathering  mist  o'erclouds  her  cheerful  eyes; 
And  from  her  cheeks  the  rosy  color  flies. 
Then  turns  to  her,  whom,  of  her  female  train, 
She  trusted  most,  and  thus  she  speaks  with  pain; 
Acca,  'tis  past!   he  swims  before  my  sight. 
Inexorable  death;  and  claims  his  right. 
Bear  my  last  words  to  Turnus,  fly  with  speed, 
And  bid  him  timely  to  my  charge  succeed: 
Repel  the  Trojans,  and  the  town  relieve: 
Farewell. 

Turnus  did  not  die  in  so  heroic  a  manner;  though  our 
poet  seems  to  have  had  his  eye  upon  Turnus's  speech  in 
the  last  verse. 

Lord  Percy  sees  my  fall. 

Vicisti,  et  victum  tendere  palmas 
Ausonii  videre. 
The  Latian   chiefs  have  seen  me  beg  my  life. 

Earl  Percy's  lamentation  over  his  enemy  is  generous, 
beautiful  and  passionate;  I  must  only  caution  the  reader 
not  to  let  the  simplicity  of  the  style,  which  one  may  well 
pardon  in  so  old  a  poet,  prejudice  him  against  the  great- 
ness of  the  thought. 

Then  leaving  life,  Earl  Percy  took 

The  dead  man  by  the  hand, 
And  said.  Earl  Douglas,  for  thy  life 

Would  I  had  lost  my  land. 

0  Christ!  my  very  heart  doth  bleed 

With  sorrow  for  thy  sake; 
For  sure  a  more  renowned  knight 

Mischance  did  never  take. 


154  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

That  beautiful  line,  ^Taking  the  dead  man  by  the  hand/^ 
will  put  the  reader  in  mind  of  ^neas's  behavior  towards 
Lausus,  whom  he  himself  had  slain  as  he  came  to  the 
rescue  of  his  aged  father. 

At  vero  ut  vultum  vidit  morientis,  et  era, 

Ora  modis  Anchisiades  pallentia  miris; 

Ingemuit  miserans  graviter,  dextramque  tetendit,  etc. 

The  pious  prince  beheld  young  Lausus  dead; 

He  grieved  he  wept;  then  grasped  his  hand,  and  said, 

Poor  hapless  youth!  what  praises  can  be  paid 

To    worth    so   great! 

I  shall  take  another  opportunity  to  consider  the  other 
parts  of  this  old  song. 


[Spectator  No.  72.    Wednesday,  May  23, 1711.    Addison.] 

— Genus  immortale  manet,  multosque  per  annos 
Stat  fortuna  domus,  et  avi  numerantur  avorum. 

ViBG.  Georg.  iv.  208. 

Th'  immortal  line  in  sure  succession  reigns. 

The  fortune  of  the  family  remains, 

And  grandsire's  grandsons  the  long  list  contains. 

Having  already  given  my  reader  an  account  of  several 
extraordinary  clubs  both  ancient  and  modern,  I  did  not 
design  to  have  troubled  him  with  any  more  narratives  of 
this  nature;  but  I  have  lately  received  information  of  a 
club,  which  I  can  call  neither  ancient  nor  modern,  that  I 
dare  say  will  be  no  less  surprising  to  my  reader  than  it 
was  to  myself;  for  which  reason  I  shall  communicate  it 
to  the  public  as  one  of  the  greatest  curiosities  in  its  kind. 

A  friend  of  mine  complaining  of  a  tradesman  who  is 
related  to  him,  after  having  represented  him  as  a  very 
idle  worthless  fellow,  who  neglected  his  family  and  spent 
most  of  his  time  over  a  bottle,  told  me,  to  conclude  his 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  155 

character,  that  he  was  a  member  of  the  Everlasting  Club. 
So  very  odd  a  title  raised  my  curiosity  to  inquire  into 
the  nature  of  a  club  that  had  such  a  sounding  name;  upon 
which  my  friend  gave  me  the  following  account: 

The  Everlasting  Club  consists  of  a  hundred  members, 
who  divide  the  whole  twenty-four  hours  among  them  in 
such  a  manner,  that  the  club  sits  day  and  night  from  one 
end  of  the  year  to  another;  no  party  presuming  to  rise 
till  they  are  relieved  by  those  who  are  in  course  to  suc- 
ceed them.  By  this  means  a  member  of  the  Everlasting 
Club  never  wants  company;  for  though  he  is  not  upon 
duty  himself,  he  is  sure  to  find  some  who  are;  so  that 
if  he  be  disposed  to  take  a  whet,  a  nooning,  an  evening's 
draught,  or  a  bottle  after  midnight,  he  goes  to  the  club, 
and  finds  a  knot  of  friends  to  his  mind. 

It  is  a  maxim  in  this  club  that  the  steward  never  dies; 
for  as  they  succeed  one  another  by  way  of  rotation,  no 
man  is  to  quit  the  great  elbow-chair  which  stands  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  table,  till  his  successor  is  in  readiness 
to  fill  it;  insomuch  that  there  has  not  been  a  sede  vacante 
in  the  memory  of  man. 

This  club  was  instituted  towards  the  end  (or,  as  some 
of  them  say,  about  the  middle)  of  the  civil  wars,  and 
continued  without  interruption  till  the  time  of  the  great 
fire,  which  burnt  them  out,  and  dispersed  them  for  several 
weeks.  The  steward  at  that  time  maintained  his  post  till 
he  had  like  to  have  been  blown  up  with  a  neighboring 
house  (which  was  demolished  in  order  to  stop  the  fire) ; 
and  would  not  leave  the  chair  at  last,  till  he  had  emptied 
all  the  bottles  upon  the  table,  and  received  repeated  direc- 
tions from  the  club  to  withdraw  himself.  This  steward 
is  frequently  talked  of  in  the  club,  and  looked  upon  by 
every  member  of  it  as  a  greater  man  than  the  famous 
captain  mentioned  in  my  Lord  Clarendon,  who  was  but 
in  his  ship  because  he  would  not  quit  it  without  orders. 
It  is  said  that  towards  the  close  of  1700,  being  the  great 
year  of  Jubilee,  the  club  had  it  under  consideration 
whether  they  should  break  up  or  continue  their  session; 


156  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

but  after  many  speeches  and  debates,  it  was  at  length 
agreed  to  sit  out  the  other  century.  This  resolution 
passed  in  a  general  club  nemine  contradicente* 

Having  given  this  short  account  of  the  institution 
and  continuation  of  the  Everlasting  Club,  I  should  here 
endeavor  to  say  something  of  the  manners  and  characters 
of  its  several  members,  which  I  shall  do  according  to 
the  best  light  I  have  received  in  this  matter. 

It  appears  by  their  books  in  general,  that,  since  their 
first  institution,  they  have  smoked  fifty  tons  of  tobacco, 
drank  thirty  thousand  butts  of  ale,  one  thousand  hogs- 
heads of  red  port,  two  hundred  barrels  of  brandy,  and  a 
kilderkin  of  small  beer.  There  has  been  likewise  a  great 
consumption  of  cards.  It  is  also  said  that  they  observe 
the  law  in  Ben  Jonson's  club,  which  orders  the  fire  to  be 
always  kept  in  (focus  perennis  esto),  as  well  for  the  con- 
venience of  lighting  their  pipes,  as  to  cure  the  dampness 
of  the  club-room.  They  have  an  old  woman  in  the  nature 
of  a  vestal,  whose  business  it  is  to  cherish  and  perpetuate 
the  fire  which  burns  from  generation  to  generation,  and 
has  seen  the  glass-house  fires  in  and  out  above  a  hundred 
times. 

The  Everlasting  Club  treats  all  other  clubs  with  an 
eye  of  contempt,  and  talks  even  of  the  Kit-Cat  and  Octo- 
ber as  a  couple  of  upstarts.  Their  ordinary  discourse  (as 
much  as  I  have  been  able  to  learn  of  it)  turns  altogether 
upon  such  adventures  as  have  passed  in  their  own  assem- 
bly; of  members  who  have  taken  the  glass  in  their  turns 
for  a  week  together,  without  stirirng  out  of  the  club;  of 
others  who  have  smoked  a  hundred  pipes  at  a  sitting; 
of  others  who  have  not  missed  their  morning's  draught 
for  twenty  years  together.  Sometimes  they  speak  in 
raptures  of  a  run  of  ale  in  king  Charles's  reign;  and 
sometimes  reflect  with  astonishment  upon  games  at  whist, 
which  have  been  miraculously  recovered  by  members  of 
the  society,  when  in  all  human  probability  the  case  was 
desperate. 

They  delight  in  several  old  catches,  which  they  sing  at 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  157 

all  hours  to  encourage  one  another  to  moisten  their  clay, 
and  grow  immortal  by  drinking;  with  many  other  edify- 
ing exhortations  of  the  like  nature. 

There  are  four  general  clubs  held  in  a  year,  at  which 
times  they  fill  up  vacancies,  appoint  waiters,  confirm  the 
old  fire-maker  or  elect  a  new  one,  settle  contributions  for 
coals,  pipes,  tobacco,  and  other  accessories. 

The  senior  member  has  outlived  the  whole  club  twice 
over,  and  has  been  drunk  with  the  grandfathers  of  some 
of  the  present  sitting  members.  C. 

[Spectator  No.     74.    FRroAY,  May  25,  1711.     Addison.] 
Pendent  opera  interrupta.^ — ^ViBG. 

In  my  last  Monday's  paper  I  gave  some  general  in- 
stances of  those  beautiful  strokes  which  please  the  reader 
in  the  old  song  of  Chevy  Chase;  I  shall  here,  according 
to  my  promise,  be  more  particular,  and  show  that  the 
sentiments  in  that  ballad  are  extremely  natural  and  poet- 
ical, and  full  of  the  majestic  simplicity  which  we  admire 
in  the  greatest  of  the  ancient  poets:  for  which  reason  I 
shall  quote  several  passages  of  it,  in  which  the  thought  is 
altogether  the  same  with  what  we  meet  in  several  pas- 
sages of  the  ^neid;  not  that  I  would  infer  from  thence, 
that  the  poet  (whoever  he  was)  proposed  to  himself  any 
imitation  of  those  passages,  but  that  he  was  directed  to 
them  in  general  by  the  same  kind  of  poetical  genius,  and 
by  the  same  copyings  after  nature. 

Had  this  old  song  been  filled  with  epigrammatical  turns 
and  points  of  wit,  it  might  perhaps  have  pleased  the 
wrong  taste  of  some  readers;  but  it  would  never  have 
become  the  delight  of  the  common  people,  nor  have 
warmed  the  heart  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  like  the  sound  of 
a  trumpet;  it  is  only  nature  that  can  have  this  effect, 
and  please  those  tastes  which  are  the  most  unprejudiced 
or  the  most  refined.  I  must  however  beg  leave  to  dissent 
from  so  great  an  authority  as  that  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 

*Tbe  works  unfinished  and  neglected  lie. 


158  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

in  the  judgment  which  he  has  passed  as  to  the  rude  style 
and  evil  apparel  of  this  antiquated  song;  for  there  are 
several  parts  in  it  where  not  only  the  thought  but  the  lan- 
guage is  majestic,  and  the  numbers  sonorous;  at  least,  the 
apparel  is  much  more  gorgeous  than  many  of  the  poets 
made  use  of  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  as  the  reader  will 
see  in  several  of  the  following  quotations. 

What  can  be  greater  than  either  the  thought  or  the  ex- 
pression in  that  stanza, 

To  drive  the  deer  with  hound  and  horn 

Earl  Percy  took  his  way; 
Th©  child  may  rue  that  is  unborn 

The  hunting  of  that  day! 

This  way  of  considering  the  misfortunes  which  this 
battle  would  bring  upon  posterity,  not  only  on  those 
who  were  born  immediately  after  the  battle,  and  lost  their 
fathers  in  it,  but  on  those  also  who  perished  in  future 
battles  which  took  their  rise  from  this  quarrel  of  the  two 
earls,  is  wonderfully  beautiful,  and  conformable  to  the 
way  of  thinking  among  the  ancient  poets. 

Audiet  pugnas  vitio   parentum 
Kara  juventus.  Hop. 

Posterity,  thinn'd  by  their  fathers'  crimes, 
Shall  read  with  grief  the  story  of  their  times. 

What  can  be  more  sounding  and  poetical,  or  resemble 
more  the  majestic  simplicity  of  the  ancients,  than  the 
following  stanzas? 

The  stout  Earl  of  Northumberland 

A  vow  to  God   did  make, 
His  pleasure  in  the  Scottish  woods 

Three  summer's  days  to  take. 

With  fifteen  hundred  bowmen  bold, 

All  chosen  men  of  might, 
Who  knew  full  well,  in  time  of  need. 

To  aim  their  shafts  aright. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  169 

The  hounds  ran  swiftly  through  the  woods 

The  nimble  deer  to  take; 
And  with  their  cries  the  hills  and  dales 

An  echo  shrill  did  make. 

Vocat  ingenti  clamore  Cithseron 
Taygetique  canes,  domitrixque  Epidaurus  equorum: 
Et  vox  assensu  nemorum  ingeminata  remugit. 

Cithaeron  loudly  calls  me  to  my  way; 

Thy  hounds,  Taygetus,  open,  and  pursue  the  prey: 

High  Epidaurus  urges  on  my  speed, 

Fam'd  for  his  hills,  and  for  his  horses'  breed: 

From  hills  and  dales  the  cheerful  cries  rebound; 

For  Echo  hunts  along  and  propagates  the  sound. 

Lo,  yonder  doth  Earl  Douglas  come, 

His  men  in  armor  bright; 
Full  twenty  hundred  Scottish  speaxB, 

All  marching  in  our  sight. 

All  men  of  pleasant  Tividale, 
Fast  by  the  river  Tweed,  etc. 

The  country  of  the  Scotch  warriors,  described  in  these  two 
last  verses,  has  a  fine  romantic  situation,  and  affords  a 
couple  of  smooth  words  for  verse.  If  the  reader  com- 
pares the  foregoing  six  lines  of  the  song  with  the  follow- 
ing Latin  verses,  he  will  see  how  much  they  are  written 
in  the  spirit  of  Virgil. 

Adversi  campo  apparent,  hastasque  reductis 
Protendunt  longe  dextris;   et  spicula  vibrant: 
Quique  altum  Praeneste  viri,  quique  arva  Gabinse 
Junonis,  gelidumque  Anienem,  et  roscida  rivis 
Hernica  saxa  colunt: — qui  rosea  rura  Velini, 
Qui  Tetricse  horrentes  rupes,  montemque  SeverunL 
Casperiamque  colunt,  Forulosque  et  flumen  Himellse: 
Qui  Tiberim  Fabarimque  bibunt. 

Advancing  in  a  line,  they  couch  their  spears — 
— Prseneste  sends  a  chosen  band, 
With  those  who  plow  Saturnia'i  Gabine  land: 
Besides  the  succours  which  cold  Anien  yields; 


160  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

The  rocks  of  Hernicus — ^besides  a  band      ,. 
That  followed  from  Velinum's  dewy  land — ■ 
And  mountaineers  that  from  Severus  came: 
And  from  the  craggy  cliffs  of  Tetrica; 
And  those  where  yellow  Tiber  takes  his  way, 
And  where  Himella's  wanton  waters  play; 
Casperia  sends  her  arms,  with  those  that  lie 
By  Fabaris,  and  fruitful  Foruli. 

But  to  proceed. 

Earl  Douglas  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

Most  like  a  baron  bold, 
Rode  foremost  of  the  company, 

Whose  armor  shown  like  gold, 

Turnus    ut    antevolans    tardum    praecesserat    agmen,    etc. 
Vidisti,  quo  Turnus  equo,  quibus  ibat  in  armis 
Aureus. 

Our  English  archers  bent  their  bows, 
Their  hearts  were  good  and  true; 

At  the  first  flight  of  arrows  sent, 
Full  threescore  Scots  they  slew. 

They  closed  full  fast  on  every  side, 

No  slackness  there  was  found: 
And  many  a  gallant  gentleman 

Lay  gasping  on  the  ground. 

With  that  there  came  an  arrow  keen 

Out  of  an  English  bow, 
Which  struck  Earl  Douglas  to  the  heart 

A  deep  and  deadly  blow. 

^neas  was  wounded  after  the  same  manner  by  an  un- 
known hand  in  the  midst  of  a  parley. 

Has  inter  voces,  media  inter  talia  verba, 
Ecce  viro  stridens  alis  allapsa  sagitta  est, 
Incertum  qua  pulsa  manu. 

Thus,  while  he  spake,  unmindful  of  defense, 
A  winged  arrow  struck  the  pious  prince; 
But  whether  from  an  human  hand  it  came, 
Or  hostile  god,  is  left  unknown  by  fame. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  161 

But  of  all  the  descriptive  parts  of  this  song,  there  are 
none  more  beautiful  than  the  four  following  stanzas, 
which  have  a  great  force  and  spirit  in  them,  and  are  filled 
with  very  natural  circumstances.  The  thought  in  the 
third  stanza  was  never  touched  by  any  other  poet,  and 
is  such  an  one  as  would  have  shined  in  Homer  or  in 
Virgil. 

So  thus  did  both  these  nobles  die. 

Whose  courage  none  could  stain: 
An  English  archer  then  perceived 

The  noble  Earl  was  slain. 

He  had  a  bow  bent  in  his  hand, 

Made  of  a  trusty  tree, 
An   arrow   of   a   cloth-yard   long 

Unto  the  head  drew  he. 

Against  Sir  Hugh  Montgomery 

So  right  his  shaft  he  set, 
The  gray  goose  wing  that  was  thereon 

In  his  heart-blood  was  wet. 

This  fight  did  last  from  break  of  day 

Till  setting  of  the  sun; 
For  when  they  rung  the  evening  bell 

The  battle  scarce  was  done. 

One  may  observe  likewise,  that  in  the  catalogue  of  the 
slain  the  author  has  followed  the  example  of  the  greatest 
ancient  poets,  not  only  in  giving  a  long  list  of  the  dead, 
but  by  diversifying  it  with  little  characters  of  particular 
persons. 

And  with  Earl  Douglas  there  was  slain 

Sir  Hugh  Montgomery, 
Sir  Charles  Carrel,  that  from  the  field 

One  foot  would  never  fly: 

Sir  Charles  Murrel  of  Ratcliff  too, 

His  sister's  son  was  he, 
Sir  David  Lamb,  so  well  esteemed. 

Yet  saved  could  not  be. 


162  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

The  familiar  sound  in  these  names  destroys  the  majesty 
of  the  description;  for  this  reason  I  do  not  mention  this 
part  of  the  poem  but  to  show  the  natural  cast  of  thought 
which  appears  in  it,  as  the  two  last  verses  look  almost 
like  a  translation  of  Virgil. 

Cadit  et  Ripheus,  justissimus  unus 
Qui  fuit  in  Teucris  et  servantissimus  sequi, 
Diis  aliter  risum  est. 

Then  Ripheus  fell  in  the  unequal  fight, 
Just  of  his  word,  observant  of  the  right: 
Heav'n  thought  not  so. 

In  the  catalogue  of  the  English  who  fell,  Witherington's 
behavior  is  in  the  same  manner  particularlized  very 
artfully,  as  the  reader  is  prepared  for  it  by  that  account 
which  is  given  of  him  in  the  b^inning  of  the  battle; 
though  I  am  satisfied  your  little  buffoon  readers  (who 
have  seen  that  passage  ridiculed  in  Hudibras)  will  not 
be  able  to  take  the  beauty  of  it:  for  which  reason  I  dare 
not  so  much  as  quote  it. 

Then  stept  a  gallant  squire  forth, 
Witherington  was  his  name, 

Who  said,  I  would  not  have  it  told 
To  Henry  our  King  for  shame. 

That  e'er  my  captain  fought  on  foot 
And  I  stood  looking  on. 

We  meet  with  the  same  heroic  sentiment  in  Virgil. 

Non  pudet,  0  Rutuli,  cimctis  pro  talibus  imam 
Objectare  animam?  numerone  an  viribus  sequi 
Non  sumus? 

For  shame,  Rutilians,  can  you  bear  the  sight 
Of  one  exposed  for  all  in  single  fight? 
Can  we  before  the  face  of  heav'n  confess 
Our  courage  colder,  or  our  numbers  less! 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  163 

What  can  be  more  natural  or  more  moving,  than  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  describes  the  behavior  of  those 
women  who  had  lost  their  husbands  on  this  fatal  day? 

Next  day  did  many  widows  come, 

Their    husbands   to  bewail; 
They  washed  their  wounds  in  brinish  tears. 

But  all  would  not  prevail. 

Their  bodies  bathed  in  purple  blood. 

They  bore  with  them  away; 
They  kissed  them  dead  a  thousand  times, 

When  they  were  clad  in  clay. 

Thus  we  see  how  the  thoughts  of  this  poem,  which 
naturally  arise  from  the  subject,  are  always  simple,  and 
sometimes  exquisitely  noble;  that  the  language  is  often 
very  sounding,  and  that  the  whole  is  written  with  a  true 
poetical  spirit. 

If  this  song  had  been  written  in  the  Gothic  manner, 
which  is  the  delight  of  all  our  little  wits,  whether  writers 
or  readers,  it  would  not  have  hit  the  taste  of  so  many 
ages,  and  have  pleased  the  readers  of  all  ranks  and 
conditions.  I  shall  only  beg  pardon  for  such  a  profusion 
of  Eatin  quotations;  which  I  should  not  have  made  use 
of,  but  that  I  feared  my  own  judgment  would  have 
looked  too  singular  on  such  a  subject,  had  not  I  supported 
it  by  the  practice  and  authority  of  Virgil. 

[Spectator  No.  81.    Saturday,  June  2,  1711.    Addison.] 

Qualis  ubi  audito  venantum  murmure  Tigris 
Horruit  in  maculas — 

— Statius. 

As  when  the  tigress  hears  the  himter's  din, 
Dark  angry  spots  distain  her  glossy  skin. 

About  the  middle  of  last  winter  I  went  to  see  an  opera 
at  the  theatre  in  the  Haymarket,  where  I  could  not  but 
take  notice  of  two  parties  of  very  fine  women,  that  had 
placed  themselves  in  the  opposite  side-boxes,  and  seemed 


164  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

drawn  up  in  a  kind  of  battle  array  one  against  another. 
After  a  short  survey  of  them,  I  found  they  were  patched 
differently;  the  faces  on  one  hand  being  spotted  on  the 
right  side  of  the  forehead,  and  those  upon  the  other  on 
the  left.  I  quickly  perceived  that  they  cast  hostile  glances 
upon  one  another;  and  that  their  patches  were  placed  in 
those  different  situations,  as  party-signals  to  distinguish 
friends  from  foes.  In  the  middle  boxes,  between  these 
two  opposite  bodies,  were  several  ladies  who  patched 
indifferently  on  both  sides  of  their  faces,  and  seemed  to 
sit  there  with  no  other  intention  but  to  see  the  opera. 
Upon  inquiry  I  found,  that  the  body  of  Amazons  on  my 
right  hand,  were  Whigs,  and  those  on  my  left,  Tories ;  and 
that  those  who  had  placed  themselves  in  the  middle  boxes 
were  a  neutral  party,  whose  faces  had  not  yet  declared 
themselves.  These  last,  however,  as  I  afterwards  found, 
diminished  daily,  and  took  their  party  with  one  side  or 
the  other;  insomuch  that  I  observed  in  several  of  them, 
the  patches,  which  were  before  dispersed  equally,  are  now 
all  gone  over  to  the  Whig  or  Tory  side  of  the  face.  The 
censorious  say,  that  the  men,  whose  hearts  are  aimed  at, 
are  very  often  the  occasions  that  one  part  of  the  face  is 
thus  dishonored,  and  lies  under  a  kind  of  disgrace,  while 
the  other  is  so  much  set  off  and  adorned  by  the  owner; 
and  that  the  patches  turn  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  of  the  man  who  is  most  in 
favor.  But  whatever  may  be  the  motives  of  a  few  fan- 
tastical coquettes,  who  do  not  patch  for  the  public  good 
so  much  as  for  their  own  private  advantage,  it  is  certain, 
that  there  are  several  women  of  honor  who  patch  out  of 
principle,  and  with  an  eye  to  the  interest  of  their  country. 
Nay,  I  am  informed  that  some  of  them  adhere  so  stead- 
fastly to  their  party,  and  are  so  far  from  sacrificing  their 
zeal  for  the  public  to  their  passion  for  any  particular 
person,  that  in  a  late  draft  of  marriage  articles  a  lady  has 
stipulated  with  her  husband,  that,  whatever  his  opinions 
are,  she  shall  be  at  liberty  to  patch  on  which  side  she 
pleases. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  165 

I  must  here  take  notice,  that  Eosalinda,  a  famous  Whig 
partisan,  has  most  unfortunately  a  very  beautiful  mole 
on  the  Tory  part  of  her  forehead;  which  being  very  con- 
spicuous, has  occasioned  many  mistakes,  and  given  a 
handle  to  her  enemies  to  misrepresent  her  face,  as  though 
it  had  revolted  from  the  Whig  interest.  But,  whatever 
this  natural  patch  may  seem  to  intimate,  it  is  well-known 
that  her  notions  of  government  are  still  the  same.  This 
unlucky  mole,  however,  has  misled  several  coxcombs;  and 
like  the  hanging  out  of  false  colors,  made  some  of  them 
converse  with  Eosalinda  in  what  they  thought  the  spirit 
of  her  party,  when  on  a  sudden  she  has  given  them  an 
unexpected  fire,  that  has  sunk  them  all  at  once.  If 
Eosalinda  is  unfortunate  in  her  mole,  Nigranilla  is  as 
unhappy  in  a  pimple,  which  forces  her,  against  her  in- 
clinations, to  patch  on  the  Whig  side. 

I  am  told  that  many  virtuous  matrons,  who  formerly 
have  been  taught  to  believe  that  this  artificial  spotting 
of  the  face  was  unlawful,  are  now  reconciled  by  a  zeal 
for  their  cause,  to  what  they  could  not  be  prompted  by 
a  concern  for  their  beauty.  This  way  of  declaring  war 
upon  one  another,  puts  me  in  mind  of  what  is  reported 
of  the  tigress,  that  several  spots  rise  in  her  skin  when  she 
is  angry,  or  as  Mr.  Cowley  has  imitated  the  verses  that 
stand  as  the  motto  on  this  paper, 

-She  swells  with  angry  pride. 


And  calls  forth  all  her  spots  on  ev'ry  side. 

When  I  was  in  the  theater  the  time  above-mentioned,  I 
had  the  curiosity  to  count  the  patches  on  both  sides,  and 
found  the  Tory  patches  to  be  about  twenty  stronger  than 
the  Whig;  but  to  make  amends  for  this  small  inequality, 
I  the  next  morning  found  the  whole  puppet-show  filled 
with  faces  spotted  after  the  Whiggish  manner.  Whether  or 
no  the  ladies  had  retreated  hither  in  order  to  rally  their 
forces  I  cannot  tell ;  but  the  next  night  they  came  in  so  great 
a  body  to  the  opera,  that  they  outnumbered  the  enemy. 

This  account  of  party  patches  will,  I  am  afraid,  appear 


166  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

improbable  to  those  who  live  at  a  distance  from  the  fash- 
ionable world;  but  as  it  is  a  distinction  of  a  very  singu- 
lar nature,  and  what  perhaps  may  never  meet  with  a 
parallel,  I  think  I  should  not  have  discharged  the  office 
of  a  faithful  Spectator,  had  I  not  recorded  it. 

I  have,  in  former  papers,  endeavored  to  expose  this 
party-rage  in  women,  as  it  only  serves  to  aggravate  the 
hatreds  and  animosities  that  rei^^  among  men,  and  in  a 
great  measure  deprive  the  fair  sex  of  those  peculiar 
charms  with  which  nature  has  endowed  them. 

When  the  Romans  and  Sabines  were  at  war,  and  just 
upon  the  point  of  giving  battle,  the  women,  who  were  al- 
lied to  both  of  them,  interposed  with  so  many  tears  and 
entreaties,  that  they  prevented  the  mutual  slaughter  which 
threatened  both  parties,  and  united  them  together  in  a 
firm  and  lasting  peace. 

I  would  recommend  this  noble  example  to  our  British 
ladies,  at  a  time  when  their  country  is  torn  with  so  many 
unnatural  divisions,  that  if  they  continue,  it  will  be  a 
misfortune  to  be  born  in  it.  The  Greeks  thought  it  so  im- 
proper for  women  to  interest  themselves  in  competitions 
and  contentions,  that  for  this  reason,  among  others,  they 
forbade  them,  under  pain  of  death,  to  be  present  at  the 
Olympic  games,  notwithstanding  these  were  the  public 
diversions  of  all  Greece. 

As  our  English  women  excel  those  of  all  nations  in 
beauty,  they  should  endeavor  to  outshine  them  in  all  other 
accomplishments  proper  to  the  sex,  and  to  distinguish 
themselves  as  tender  mothers,  and  faithful  wives,  rather 
than  as  furious  partisans.  Female  virtues  are  of  a  do- 
mestic turn.  The  family  is  the  proper  province  for  pri- 
vate women  to  shine  in.  If  they  must  be  showing  their 
zeal  for  the  public,  let  it  not  be  against  those  who  are  per- 
haps of  the  same  family,  or  at  least  of  the  same  religion . 
or  nation,  but  against  those  who  are  the  open,  professed, 
undoubted  enemies  of  their  faith,  liberty,  and  country. 
When  the  Eomans  were  pressed  with  a  foreign  enemy,  the 
ladies  voluntarily  contributed  all  their  rings  and  jewels 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  167 

to  assist  the  government  under  a  public  exigence,  which 
appeared  so  laudable  an  action  in  the  eyes  of  their  coun- 
trymen, that  from  thenceforth  it  was  permitted  by  a  law 
to  pronounce  public  orations  at  the  funeral  of  a  woman 
in  praise  of  the  deceased  person,  which  till  that  time  was 
peculiar  to  men.  Would  our  English  ladies,  instead  of 
sticking  on  a  patch  against  those  of  their  own  country, 
show  themselves  so  truly  public-spirited  as  to  sacrifice 
every  one  her  necklace  against  the  common  enemy,  what 
decrees  ought  not  to  be  made  in  favor  of  them? 

Since  I  am  recollecting  upon  this  subject  such  pas- 
sages as  occur  to  my  memory  out  of  ancient  authors,  I 
cannot  omit  a  sentence  in  the  celebrated  funeral  oration 
of  Pericles,  which  he  made  in  honor  of  those  brave  Athe- 
nians that  were  slain  in  a  fight  with  the  Lacedaemonians. 
After  having  addressed  himself  to  the  several  ranks  and 
orders  of  his  countrymen,  and  shown  them  how  they 
should  behave  themselves  in  the  public  cause,  he  turns 
to  the  female  part  of  his  audience :  "And  as  for  you  (says 
he)  I  shall  advise  you  in  very  few  words :  Aspire  only  to 
those  virtues  that  are  peculiar  to  your  sex;  follow  your 
natural  modesty,  and  think  it  your  greatest  commendation 
not  to  be  talked  of  one  way  or  other."  C. 

[Spectator  No.  98.    Friday,  June  22,  1711.    Addison.] 

Tanta  est  quaerendi  cura  decoris. 

— Juv.  Sat.  vi.  500. 
So  studiously  their  persons  they  adorn. 

There  is  not  so  variable  a  thing  in  nature  as  a  lady^s 
headdress.  Within  my  own  memory  I  have  known  it 
rise  and  fall  above  thirty  degrees.  About  ten  years  ago 
it  shot  up  to  a  very  great  height,  insomuch  that  the  fe- 
male part  of  our  species  were  much  taller  than  the  men.^ 

*  This  refers  to  the  commode  (called  by  the  B*rench  fontange), 
a  kind  of  head-dress  worn  by  the  ladies  at  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  which  by  means  of  wire  bore  up  the  hair  and 
fore  part  of  the  cap.  consisting  of  many  folds  of  fine  lace,  to  a 
prodigious  height.  The  transition  from  this  to  the  opposite  ex- 
treme was  very  abrupt  and  sudden. 


168  ADDISON  AND  STEELE. 

The  women  were  of  such  an  enormous  stature,  that  "we 
appeared  as  grasshoppers  before  them'' ;  ^  at  present  the 
whole  sex  is  in  a  manner  dwarfed,  and  shrunk  into  a 
race  of  beauties  that  seems  almost  another  species.  I 
remember  several  ladies,  who  were  once  very  near  seven 
foot  high,  that  at  present  want  some  inches  of  five.  How 
they  came  to  be  thus  curtailed  I  cannot  learn.  Whether 
the  whole  sex  be  at  present  under  any  penance  which 
we  know  nothing  of ;  or  whether  they  have  cast  their  head- 
dresses in  order  to  surprise  us  with  something  in  that 
kind  which  shall  be  entirely  new;  or  whether  some  of  the 
tallest  of  the  sex,  being  too  cunning  for  the  rest,  have 
contrived  this  method  to  make  themselves  appear  sizeable, 
is  still  a  secret;  though  I  find  most  are  of  opinion,  they 
are  at  present  like  trees  new  lopped  and  pruned,  that 
will  certainly  sprout  up  and  flourish  with  greater  heads 
than  before.  For  my  own  part,  as  I  do  not  love  to  be 
insulted  by  women  who  are  taller  than  myself,  I  admire 
the  sex  much  more  in  their  present  humiliation,  which 
has  reduced  them  to  their  natural  dimensions,  than  when 
they  had  extended  their  persons  and  lengthened  them- 
selves out  into  formidable  and  gigantic  figures.  I  am 
not  for  adding  to  the  beautiful  edifices  of  nature,  nor  for 
raising  any  whimsical  superstructure  upon  her  plans:  I 
must  therefore  repeat  it,  that  I  am  highly  pleased  with  the 
coiffure  now  in  fashion,  and  think  it  shows  the  good 
sense  which  at  present  very  much  reigns  among  the  valu- 
able part  of  the  sex.  One  may  observe  that  women  in 
all  ages  have  taken  more  pains  than  men  to  adorn  the 
outside  of  their  heads;  and  indeed  I  very  much  admire, 
that  those  female  architects  who  raise  such  wonderful 
structures  oiU  of  ribands,  lace,  and  wire,  have  not  been 
recorded  for  their  respective  inventions.  It  is  certain 
there  have  been  as  many  orders  in  these  kinds  of  build- 
ing, as  in  those  which  have  been  made  of  marble.  Some- 
times they  rise  in  the  shape  of  a  pyramid,  sometimes  like 

» Numbers  xiii,  33. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  169 

a  tower,  and  sometimes  like  a  steeple.  In  Juvenal's  time 
the  building  grew  by  several  orders  and  stories,  as  he  has 
very  humorously  described  it: 

"Tot  premit  ordinibus,  tot  adhuc  compagibus  altum 
^dificat  caput:  Andromachen  a  f route  videbis; 
Post  minor   est:    aliam   credas." 

— Juv.  Sat.  vi.  501. 

"With  curls  on  curls  they  build  her  head  before, 
And  mount  it  with  a  formidable  tow'r: 
A  giantess  she  seems;  but  look  behind. 
And  then  she  dwindles  to  the  pigmy  kind." 

But  I  do  not  remember  in  any  part  of  my  reading,  that 
the  head-dress  aspired  to  so  great  an  extravagance  as  in 
the  fourteenth  century;  when  it  was  built  up  in  a  couple 
of  cones  or  spires,  which  stood  so  excessively  high  on  each 
side  of  the  head,  that  a  woman,  who  was  but  a  Pigmy 
without  her  head-dress,  appeared  like  a  Colossus  upon  put- 
ting it  on.  Monsieur  Paradin^  says,  "That  these  old- 
fashioned  fontanges  rose  an  ell  above  the  head;  that  they 
were  pointed  like  steeples;  and  had  long  loose  pieces  of 
crape  fastened  to  the  tops  of  them,  which  were  curiously 
fringed,  and  hung  down  their  backs  like  streamers." 

The  women  might  possibly  have  carried  this  Gothic 
building  much  higher,  had  not  a  famous  monk,  Thomas 
Conecte  by  name,  attacked  it  with  great  zeal  and  resolu- 
tion. This  holy  man  traveled  from  place  to  place  to 
preach  down  this  monstrous  commode;  and  succeeded  so 
.well  in  it,  that,  as  the  magicians  sacrificed  their  books  to 
the  flames  upon  the  preaching  of  an  apostle,  many  of  the 
women  threw  down  their  head-dresses  in  the  middle  of 
his  sermon,  and  made  a  bonfire  of  them  within  sight  of 
the  pulpit.  He  was  so  renowned,  as  weU  for  the  sanc- 
tity of  his  life  as  his  manner  of  preaching,  that  he  had 
often  a  congregation  of  twenty  thousand  people;  the  men 
placing  themselves  on  the  one  side  of  his  pulpit,  and  the 

1  GuiUaume  Paradin  was  a  French  writer  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, author  of  several  voluminous  histories.  It  is  from  his 
Annates  de  Bovrgoigne,  published  in  1566,  that  the  following  pas- 
sages are  quoted. 


iro  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

women  on  the  other,  that  appeared  (to  use  the  similitude 
of  an  ingenious  writer)  like  a  forest  of  cedars  with  their 
heads  reaching  to  the  clouds.  He  so  warmed  and  ani- 
mated the  people  against  this  monstrous  ornament,  that 
it  lay  under  a  kind  of  persecution;  and,  whenever  it  ap- 
peared in  public,  was  pelted  down  by  the  rabble,  who 
flung  stones  at  the  persons  that  wore  it.  But  notwith- 
standing this  prodigy  vanished  while  the  preacher  was 
among  them,  it  began  to  appear  again  some  months  after 
his  departure,  or,  to  tell  it  in  Monsieur  Paradin's  own 
words,  "the  women,  that  like  snails  in  a  fright  had  drawn 
in  their  horns,  shot  them  out  again  as  soon  as  the  dan- 
ger was  over.''  This  extravagance  of  the  women's  head- 
dresses in  that  age  is  taken  notice  of  by  Monsieur  d'Ar- 
gentre  in  his  History  of  Bretagne,^  and  by  other  histori- 
ans, as  well  as  the  person  I  have  here  quoted. 

It  is  usually  observed,  that  a  good  reign  is  the  only 
proper  time  for  the  making  of  laws  against  the  exorbitance 
of  power ;  in  the  same  manner  an  excessive  head-dress  may 
be  attacked  the  most  effectually  when  the  fashion  is 
against  it.  I  do  therefore  recommend  this  paper  to  my 
female  readers  by  way  of  prevention. 

I  would  desire  the  fair  sex  to  consider  how  impossible 
it  is  for  them  to  add  anything  that  can  be  ornamental 
to  what  is  already  the  masterpiece  of  nature.  The  head 
has  the  most  beautiful  appearance,  as  well  as  the  highest 
station,  in  a  human  figure.  Nature  has  laid  out  all  her 
art  in  beautifying  the  face;  she  has  touched  it  with  ver- 
milion, planted  in  it  a  double  row  of  ivory,  made  it  the 
seat  of  smiles  and  blushes,  lighted  it  up  and  enlivened  it 
with  the  brightness  of  the  eyes,  hung  it  on  each  side  with 

1  Bertrand  d'Argentre  was  an  eminent  French  lawyer  of  the 
sixteenth  century  :  his  Histoire  de  Bretdgne  was  printed  at  Rennea 
in  1582.  Thomas  Conecte,  mentioned  above,  was  a  Carmelite 
monk,  bom  in  Bretagne,  who  began  to  be  famous  for  his  preach- 
ing in  1428.  After  having  traveled  through  several  parts  of 
Europe,  opposing  the  fashionable  vices  of  the  age,  he  came  to 
Rome,  where  his  zeal  led  him  to  reprove  the  enormities  of  the 
papal  court  and  the  dissoluteness  of  the  Romish  clergy.  On  thia 
he  was  imprisoned,  tried,  and  condemned  to  the  flames  for  heresy ; 
a  punishment  which  he  suffered  with  great  constancy  in  1434. 


[ADDISON  AND  STEELE  171 

the  curious  organs  of  sense,  giving  it  airs  and  graces  that 
cannot  be  described,  and  surrounded  it  with  such  a  flow- 
ing shade  of  hair  as  sets  all  its  beauties  in  the  most  agree- 
able light.  In  short,  she  seems  to  have  designed  the  head 
as  the  cupola  to  the  most  glorious  of  her  works ;  and  when 
we  load  it  with  such  a  pile  of  supernumerary  ornaments, 
we  destroy  the  symmetry  of  the  human  figure,  and  fool- 
ishly contrive  to  call  off  the  eye  from  great  and  real  beau- 
ties, to  childish  gewgaws,  ribands,  and  bone-lace.  L. 

[Spectator  No.  106.    Monday,  July  2,  1711.    Addison.] 

Hinc  tibi  copia 

Manabit  ad  plenum,  benigno 
Kuris  honorum  opulenta  cornu. 

— ^Horace. 
"Here  plenty's  liberal  horn  shall  pour 
Of  fruits  for  thee  a  copious  show'r, 
Rich  honors  of  the  quiet  plain." 

Having  often  received  an  invitation  from  my  friend 
Sir  Koger  de  Coverley,  to  pass  away  a  month  with  him 
in  the  country,  I  last  week  accompanied  him  thither,  and 
am  settled  with  him  for  some  time  at  his  country-house, 
where  I  intend  to  form  several  of  my  ensuing  specula- 
tions. Sir  Eoger,  who  is  very  well  acquainted  with  my 
humor,  lets  me  rise  and  go  to  bed  when  I  please,  dine  at 
his  own  table  or  in  my  chamber,  as  I  think  fit,  sit  still  and 
say  nothing  without  bidding  me  be  merry.  When  the 
gentlemen  of  the  country  come  to  see  him,  he  only  shows 
me  at  a  distance.  As  I  have  been  walking  in  his  fields  I 
have  observed  them  stealing  a  sight  of  me  over  an  hedge, 
and  have  heard  the  knight  desiring  them  not  to  let  me 
see  them,  for  that  I  hated  to  be  stared  at. 

I  am  the  more  at  ease  in  Sir  Eoger's  family  because  it 
consists  of  sober  and  staid  persons;  for,  as  the  knight  is 
the  best  master  in  the  world,  he  seldom  changes  his  serv- 
ants; and  as  he  is  beloved  by  all  about  him,  his  servants 
never  care  for  leaving  him;  by  this  means  his  domestics 


172  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

are  all  in  years,  and  grown  old  with  their  master.  You 
would  take  his  valet  de  chamhre  for  his  brother,  his  but- 
ler is  gray-headed,  his  groom  is  one  of  the  gravest  men 
that  I  have  ever  seen,  and  his  coachman  has  the  looks 
of  a  privy  counsellor.  You  see  the  goodness  of  the  master 
even  in  the  old  house-dog,  and  in  a  gray  pad  that  is  kept 
in  the  stable  with  great  care  and  tenderness,  out  of  re- 
gard to  his  past  services,  though  he  has  been  useless  for 
several  years. 

I  could  not  but  observe  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure 
the  joy  that  appeared  in  the  countenances  of  these  ancient 
domestics  upon  my  friend's  arrival  at  his  country-seat. 
Some  of  them  could  not  refrain  from  tears  at  the  sight 
of  their  old  master ;  every  one  of  them  pressed  forward  to 
do  something  for  him,  and  seemed  discouraged  if  they 
were  not  employed.  At  the  same  time  the  good  old 
knight,  with  a  mixture  of  the  father  and  the  master  of 
the  family,  tempered  the  inquiries  after  his  own  affairs 
with  several  kind  questions  relating  to  themselves.  This 
humanity  and  good-nature  engages  everybody  to  him,  so 
that  when  he  is  pleasant  upon  any  of  them,  all  his  family 
are  in  good  humor,  and  none  so  much  as  the  person  whom 
he  diverts  himself  with;  on  the  contrary,  if  he  coughs, 
or  betrays  any  infirmity  of  old  age,  it  is  easy  for  a 
stander-by  to  observe  a  secret  concern  in  the  looks  of  all 
his  servants. 

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

My  chief  companion,  when  Sir  Roger  is  diverting  him- 
self in  the  woods  or  the  fields,  is  a  very  venerable  man 
who  is  ever  with  Sir  Eoger,  and  has  lived  at  his  house  in 
the  nature  of  a  chaplain  above  thirty  years.  This  gen- 
tleman is  a  person  of  good  sense  and  some  learning,  of  a 
very  regular  life  and  obliging  conversation;  he  heartily 
loves  Sir  Roger,  and  knows  that  he  is  very  much  in  the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  173 

old  knight's  esteem,  so  that  he  lives  in  the  family  rather 
as  a  relation  than  a  dependent. 

I  have  observed  in  several  of  my  papers  that  my  friend 
Sir  Roger,  amidst  all  his  good  qualities,  is  something  of 
an  humorist,  and  that  his  virtues  as  well  as  imperfec- 
tions are,  as  it  were,  tinged  by  a  certain  extravagance, 
which  makes  them  particularly  his,  and  distinguishes 
them  from  those  of  other  men.  This  cast  of  mind,  as  it 
is  generally  very  innocent  in  itself,  so  it  renders  his  con- 
versation highly  agreeable,  and  more  delightful  than  the 
same  degree  of  sense  and  virtue  would  appear  in  their 
common  and  ordinary  colors.  As  I  was  walking  with  him 
last  night,  he  asked  me  how  I  liked  the  good  man  whom 
I  have  just  now  mentioned,  and  without  staying  for  my 
answer,  told  me  that  he  was  afraid  of  being  insulted  with 
Latin  and  Greek  at  his  own  table,  for  which  reason  he 
desired  a  particular  friend  of  his,  at  the  University,  to 
find  him  out  a  clergyman  rather  of  plain  sense  than  much 
learning,  of  a  good  aspect,  a  clear  voice,  a  sociable  tem- 
per, and,  if  possible,  a  man  that  understood  a  little  of 
backgammon.  "My  friend,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "found  me 
out  this  gentleman,  who,  besides  the  endowments  required 
of  him,  is,  they  tell  me,  a  good  scholar,  though  he  does 
not  show  it;  I  have  given  him  the  parsonage  of  the  par- 
ish, and,  because  I  know  his  value,  have  settled  upon  him 
a  good  annuity  for  life.  If  he  outlives  me,  he  shall  find 
that  he  was  higher  in  my  esteem  than  perhaps  he  thinks 
he  is.  He  has  now  been  with  me  thirty  years,  and  though 
he  does  not  know  I  have  taken  notice  of  it,  has  never  in 
all  that  time  asked  anything  of  me  for  himself,  though  he 
is  every  day  soliciting  me  for  something  in  behalf  of  one 
or  other  of  my  tenants,  his  parishioners.  There  has  not 
been  a  lawsuit  in  the  parish  since  he  has  lived  among 
them;  if  any  dispute  arises  they  apply  themselves  to  him 
for  the  decision;  if  they  do  not  acquiesce  in  his  judgment, 
which  I  think  never  happened  above  once,  or  twice  at  most,, 
they  appeal  to  me.  At  his  first  settling  with  me  I  made 
him  a  present  of  all  the  good  sermons  which  have  been 


174  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

printed  in  English,  and  only  begged  of  him  that  every 
Sunday  he  would  pronounce  one  of  them  in  the  pulpit. 
Accordingly  he  has  digested  them  into  such  a  series  that 
they  follow  one  another  naturally  and  make  a  continued 
system  of  practical  divinity/' 

As  Sir  Roger  was  going  on  in  his  story,  the  gentleman 
we  were  talking  of  came  up  to  us ;  and  upon  the  knight's 
asking  him  who  preached  to-morrow  (for  it  was  Saturday 
night),  told  us  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph  in  the  morning 
and  Dr.  South  in  the  afternoon.  He  then  showed  us  his 
list  of  preachers  for  the  whole  year,  where  I  saw  with 
a  great  deal  of  pleasure  Archbishop  Tillotson,  Bishop 
Saunderson,  Dr.  Barrow,  Dr.  Calamy,  with  several  liv- 
ing authors  who  have  published  discourses  of  practical 
divinity.  I  no  sooner  saw  this  venerable  man  in  the  pul- 
pit but  I  very  much  approved  of  my  friend's  insisting 
upon  the  qualifications  of  a  good  aspect  and  a  clear  voice; 
for  I  was  so  charmed  with  the  gracefulness  of  his  figure 
and  delivery  as  well  as  with  the  discourses  he  pronounced, 
that  I  think  I  never  passed  any  time  more  to  my  sat- 
isfaction. A  sermon  repeated  after  this  manner  is  like 
the  composition  of  a  poet  in  the  mouth  of  a  graceful  actor. 

I  could  heartily  wish  that  more  of  our  country  clergy 
would  follow  this  example;  and,  instead  of  wasting  their 
spirits  in  laborious  compositions  of  their  own,  would  en- 
deavor after  a  handsome  elocution  and  all  those  other  tal- 
ents that  are  proper  to  enforce  what  has  been  penned 
by  greater  masters.  This  would  not  only  be  more  easy  to 
themselves,  but  more  edifying  to  the  people.  L. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  175 


[Spectator  No.  107.    Tuesday,  July  3,  1711.    Steele.] 

^sopo  ingentem  statuam  posuere  Attici, 
Serrumque  collocarunt  aeterna  in  basi, 
Patere  honoris  scirent  ut  cuncti  viam.* 

— PHiEDBUS. 

The  reception,  manner  of  attendance,  undisturbed  free- 
dom and  quiet,  which  I  meet  with  here  in  the  country, 
has  confirmed  me  in  the  opinion  I  always  had,  that  the 
general  corruption  of  manners  in  servants  is  owing  to 
the  conduct  of  masters.  The  aspect  of  every  one  in  the 
family  carries  so  much  satisfaction  that  it  appears  he 
knows  the  happy  lot  which  has  befallen  him  in  being  a 
member  of  it.  There  is  one  particular  which  I  have  sel- 
dom seen  but  at  Sir  Koger's;  it  is  usual,  in  all  other 
places,  that  servants  fly  from  the  parts  of  the  house 
through  which  their  master  is  passing;  on  the  contrary, 
here,  they  industriously  place  themselves  in  his  way;  and 
it  is  on  both  sides,  as  it  were,  understood  as  a  visit,  when 
the  servants  appear  without  calling.  This  proceeds  from 
the  humane  and  equal  temper  of  the  man  of  the  house, 
who  also  perfectly  well  knows  how  to  enjoy  a  great  es- 
tate with  such  economy  as  ever  to  be  much  beforehand. 
This  makes  his  own  mind  untroubled,  and  consequently 
unapt  to  vent  peevish  expressions,  or  give  passionate  or 
inconsistent  orders  to  those  about  him.  Thus  respect  and 
love  go  together;  and  a  certain  cheerfulness  in  perform- 
ance of  their  duty  is  the  particular  distinction  of  the  lower 
part  of  this  family.  When  a  servant  is  called  before  his 
master,  he  does  not  come  with  an  expectation  to  hear 
himself  rated  for  some  trivial  fault,  threatened  to  be 
stripped,  or  used  with  any  other  unbecoming  language, 
which  mean  masters  often  give  to  worthy  servants;  but 
it  is  often  to  know  what  road  he  took  that  he  came  so 

^  The  Athenians  erected  a  large  statue  to  ^sop,  and  placed 
him,  though  a  slave,  on  a  lasting  pedestal :  to  show  that  the 
way  to  honor  lies  open  indifferently  to  alL 


176  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

readily  back  according  to  order;  whether  he  passed  by 
such  a  ground;  if  the  old  man  who  rents  it  is  in  good 
health;  or  whether  he  gave  Sir  Eoger's  love  to  him,  or  the 
like. 

A  man  who  preserves  a  respect  founded  on  his  benevo- 
lence to  his  dependents  lives  rather  like  a  prince  than  a 
master  in  his  family;  his  orders  are  received  as  favors 
rather  than  duties;  and  the  distinction  of  approaching 
him  is  part  of  the  reward  for  executing  what  is  com- 
manded by  him. 

There  is  another  circumstance  in  which  my  friend  ex- 
cels in  his  management,  which  is  the  manner  of  reward- 
ing his  servants;  he  has  ever  been  of  opinion  that  giving 
his  cast  clothes  to  be  worn  by  valets  has  a  very  ill  effect 
upon  little  minds,  and  creates  a  silly  sense  of  equality 
between  the  parties  in  persons  affected  only  with  outward 
things.  I  have  heard  him  often  pleasant  on  this  occa- 
sion and  describe  a  young  gentleman  abusing  his  man  in 
that  coat  which  a  month  or  two  before  was  the  most  pleas- 
ing distinction  he  was  conscious  of  in  himself.  He  would 
turn  his  discourse  still  more  pleasantly  upon  the  ladies' 
bounties  of  this  kind;  and  I  have  heard  him  say  he  knew 
a  fine  woman  who  distributed  rewards  and  punishments 
in  giving  becoming  or  unbecoming  dresses  to  her  maids. 

But  my  good  friend  is  above  these  little  instances  of 
good-will  in  bestowing  only  trifles  on  his  servants ;  a  good 
servant  to  him  is  sure  of  having  it  in  his  choice  very  soon 
of  being  no  servant  at  all.  As  I  before  observed,  he  is  so 
good  an  husband  and  knows  so  thoroughly  that  the  skill 
of  the  purse  is  the  cardinal  virtue  of  this  life, — I  say, 
he  knows  so  well  that  frugality  is  the  support  of  generos- 
ity, that  he  can  often  spare  a  large  fine  when  a  tenement 
falls,  and  give  that  settlement  to  a  good  servant  who  has 
a  mind  to  go  into  the  world,  or  make  a  stranger  pay  the 
fine  to  that  servant,  for  his  more  comfortable  mainte- 
nance, if  he  stays  in  his  service. 

A  man  of  honor  and  generosity  considers  it  would  be 
miserable  to  himself  to  have  no  will  but  that  of  another, 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  177 

thougli  it  were  of  the  best  person  breathing,  and  for  that 
reason  goes  on  as  fast  as  he  is  able  to  put  his  servants 
into  independent  livelihoods.  The  greatest  part  of  Sir 
Eoger's  estate  is  tenanted  by  persons  who  have  served 
himself  or  his  ancestors.  It  was  to  me  extremely  pleas- 
ant to  observe  the  visitants  from  several  parts  to  welcome 
his  arrival  into  the  country;  and  all  the  difference  that 
I  could  take  notice  of  between  the  late  servants  who  came 
to  see  him  and  those  who  stayed  in  the  family,  was  that 
these  latter  were  looked  upon  as  finer  gentlemen  and  bet- 
ter courtiers. 

This  manumission  and  placing  them  in  a  way  of  liveli- 
hood I  look  upon  as  only  what  is  due  to  a  good  servant, 
which  encouragement  will  make  his  successor  be  as  dili- 
gent, as  humble,  and  as  ready  as  he  was.  There  is  some- 
thing wonderful  in  the  narrowness  of  those  minds  which 
can  be  pleased  and  be  barren  of  bounty  to  those  who 
please  them. 

One  might,  on  this  occasion,  recount  the  sense  that 
great  persons  in  all  ages  have  had  of  the  merit  of  their 
dependents,  and  the  heroic  services  which  men  have  done 
their  masters  in  the  extremity  of  their  fortunes,  and  shown 
to  their  undone  patrons  that  fortune  was  all  the  difference 
between  them;  but  as  I  design  this  my  speculation  only 
as  a  gentle  admonition  to  thankless  masters,  I  shall  not 
go  out  of  the  occurrences  of  common  life,  but  assert  it, 
as  a  general  observation,  that  I  never  saw,  but  in  Sir 
Roger's  family  and  one  or  two  more,  good  servants  treated 
as  they  ought  to  be.  Sir  Roger's  kindness  extends  to  their 
children's  children,  and  this  very  morning  he  sent  his 
coachman's  grandson  to  prentice.  I  shall  conclude  this 
paper  with  an  account  of  a  picture  in  his  gallery,  where 
there  are  many  which  will  deserve  my  future  observation. 

At  the  very  upper  end  of  this  handsome  structure  I 
saw  the  portraiture  of  two  young  men  standing  in  a  river, 
the  one  naked,  the  other  in  a  livery.  The  person  sup- 
ported seemed  half  dead,  but  still  so  much  alive  as  to 
show  in  his  face  exquisite  joy  and  love  toward  the  other. 


178  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

I  thought  the  fainting  figure  resembled  my  friend.  Sir 
Eoger;  and,  looking  at  the  butler,  who  stood  by  me,  for 
an  account  of  it,  he  informed  me  that  the  person  in  the 
livery  was  a  servant  of  Sir  Roger's  who  stood  on  the 
shore  while  his  master  was  swimming,  and  observing  him 
taken  with  some  sudden  illness,  and  sink  under  water, 
jumped  in  and  saved  him.  He  told  me  Sir  Roger  took 
off  the  dress  he  was  in  as  soon  as  he  came  home,  and 
by  a  great  bounty  at  that  time,  followed  by  his  favor  ever 
since,  had  made  him  master  of  that  pretty  seat  which  we 
saw  at  a  distance  as  we  came  to  this  house.  I  remem- 
bered indeed  Sir  Eoger  said  there  lived  a  very  worthy 
gentleman,  to  whom  he  was  highly  obliged,  without  men- 
tioning anything  further.  Upon  my  looking  a  little  dis- 
satisfied at  some  part  of  the  picture,  my  attendant  in- 
formed me  that  it  was  against  Sir  Eoger's  will,  and  at 
the  earnest  request  of  the  gentleman  himself,  that  he  was 
drawn  in  the  habit  in  which  he  had  saved  his  master. 

R. 

[Spectator  No.  108.    Wednesday,  July  4,  1711. 
Addison.] 

Gratis  anhelans,  multa  agendo  nihil  agens.* 

— Ph^idbus. 

As  I  was  yesterday  morning  walking  with  Sir  Roger 
before  his  house,  a  country  fellow  brought  him  a  huge 
fish,  which,  he  told  him,  Mr.  William  Wimble  had  caught 
that  very  morning;  and  that  he  presented  it,  with  his 
service  to  him,  and  intended  to  come  and  dine  with  him. 
At  the  same  time  he  delivered  him  a  letter,  which  my 
friend  read  to  me  as  soon  as  the  messenger  left  him : — 

^'SiR  Roger, — 

*^I  desire  you  to  accept  of  a  jack,  which  is  the  best  I 
have  caught  this  season.  I  intend  to  come  and  stay  with 
you  a  week,  and  see  how  the  perch  bite  in  the  Black 

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


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  179 

Eiver.  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  accompa- 
nied it  made  me  very  curious  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  a 
baronet,  and  descended  of  the  ancient  family  of  the  Wim- 
bles. He  is  now  between  forty  and  fifty,  but,  being  bred 
to  no  business  and  bom  to  no  estate,  he  generally  lives 
with  his  elder  brother  as  superintendent  of  his  game. 
He  hunts  a  pack  of  dogs  better  than  any  man  in  the 
country,  and  is  very  famous  for  finding  out  a  hare.  He 
is  extremely  well  versed  in  all  the  little  handicrafts  of 
an  idle  man;  he  makes  a  may-fly  to  a  miracle,  and  fur- 
nishes the  whole  country  with  angle-rods.  As  he  is  a 
good-natured,  officious  fellow,  and  very  much  esteemed 
upon  account  of  his  family,  he  is  a  welcome  guest  at 
every  house,  and  keeps  up  a  good  correspondence  among 
all  the  gentlemen  about  him.  He  carries  a  tulip-root 
in  his  pocket  from  one  to  another,  or  exchanges  a  puppy 
between  a  couple  of  friends  that  live  perhaps  in  the  op- 
posite sides  of  the  county.  Will  is  a  particular  favorite 
of  all  the  young  heirs,  whom  he  frequently  obliges  with 
a  net  that  he  has  weaved  or  a  setting-dog  that  he  has  made 
himself.  He  now  and  then  presents  a  pair  of  garters  of 
his  own  knitting  to  their  mothers  or  sisters,  and  raises  a 
great  deal  of  mirth  among  them  by  inquiring  as  often 
as  he  meets  them,  hour  they  wear.  These  gentleman-like 
manufactures  and  obliging  little  humors  make  Will  the 
darling  of  the  country. 


180  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Sir  Eoger  was  proceeding  in  the  character  of  him,  when 
he  saw  him  make  up  to  us  with  two  or  three  hazel-twigs  in 
his  hand  that  he  had  cut  in  Sir  Eoger's  wood,  as  he  came 
through  them,  in  his  way  to  the  house.  I  was  very  much 
pleased  to  observe  on  one  side  the  hearty  and  sincere 
welcome  with  which  Sir  Koger  received  him,  and  on  the 
other,  the  secret  joy  which  his  guest  discovered  at  sight 
of  the  good  old  knight.  After  the  first  salutes  were  over, 
Will  desired  Sir  Eoger  to  lend  him  one  of  his  servants  to 
carry  a  set  of  shuttlecocks  he  had  with  him  in  a  little 
box  to  a  lady  that  lived  about  a  mile  off,  to  whom  it  seems 
he  had  promised  such  a  present  for  above  this  half  year. 
Sir  Eoger's  back  was  no  sooner  turned  but  honest  Will 
began  to  tell  me  of  a  large  cock-pheasant  that  he  had 
sprung  in  one  of  the  neighboring  woods,  with  two  or  three 
other  adventures  of  the  same  nature.  Odd  and  uncom- 
mon characters  are  the  game  that  I  look  for  and  most 
delight  in;  for  which  reason  I  was  as  much  pleased  with 
the  novelty  of  the  person  that  talked  to  me  as  he  could 
be  for  his  life  with  the  springing  of  a  pheasant,  and  there- 
fore listened  to  him  with  more  than  ordinary  attention. 

In  the  midst  of  his  discourse  the  bell  rung  to  dinner, 
where  the  gentleman  I  have  been  speaking  of  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  the  huge  jack  he  had  caught  served 
up  for  the  first  dish  in  a  most  sumptuous  manner.  Upon 
our  sitting  down  to  it  he  gave  us  a  long  account  how 
he  had  hooked  it,  played  with  it,  foiled  it,  and  at  length 
drew  it  out  upon  the  bank,  with  several  other  particulars 
that  lasted  all  the  first  course.  A  dish  of  wild-fowl  that 
came  afterward  furnished  conversation  for  the  rest  of  the 
dinner,  which  concluded  with  a  late  invention  of  Will's 
for  improving  the  quail-pipe. 

Upon  withdrawing  into  my  room  after  dinner,  I  was  se- 
cretly touched  with  compassion  toward  the  honest  gen- 
tleman that  had  dined  with  us,  and  could  not  but  con- 
sider, with  a  great  deal  of  concern,  how  so  good  an  heart 
and  such  busy  hands  were  wholly  employed  in  trifles ;  that 
80  much  humanity  should  be  so  little  beneficial  to  otherSi 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  181 

and  so  much  industry  so  little  advantageous  to  himself. 
The  same  temper  of  mind  and  application  to  affairs  might 
have  recommended  him  to  the  public  esteem  and  have 
raised  his  fortune  in  another  station  of  life.  What  good 
to  his  country  or  himself  might  not  a  trader  or  mer- 
chant have  done  with  such  useful  though  ordinary  quali- 
fications ? 

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  a  trade  or  profession 
that  is  beneath  their  quality.  This  humor  fills  several 
parts  of  Europe  with  pride  and  beggary.  It  is  the  hap- 
piness of  a  trading  nation,  like  ours,  that  the  younger 
sons,  though  incapable  of  any  liberal  art  or  profession, 
may  be  placed  in  such  a  way  of  life  as  may  perhaps  en- 
able them  to  vie  with  the  best  of  their  family.  Accord- 
ingly, we  find  several  citizens  that  were  launched  into 
the  world  with  narrow  fortunes,  rising  by  an  honest  in- 
dustry to  greater  estates  than  those  of  their  elder  brothers. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  Will  was  formerly  tried  at  di- 
vinity, law,  or  physic ;  and  that,  finding  his  genius  did  not 
lie  that  way,  his  parents  gave  him  up  at  length  to  his 
own  inventions.  But  certainly,  however  improper  he 
might  have  been  for  studies  of  a  higher  nature,  he  was 
perfectly  well  turned  for  the  occupations  of  trade  and 
commerce.  As  I  think  this  is  a  point  which  cannot  be 
too  much  inculcated,  I  shall  desire  my  reader  to  compare 
what  I  have  here  written,  with  what  I  have  said  in  my 
twenty-first  si)eculation.  L. 

[Spectator  No.  109.    Thursday,  July  5,  1711.  Steele.] 

Abnormis  sapiens.^ 

— ^Horace. 

I  was  this  morning  walking  in  the  gallery,  when  Sir 
Eoger  entered  at  the  end  opposite  to  me,  and,  advancing 

*  "Of  plain  good  sense,  untutored  in  the  schools." 


182  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

toward  me,  said  he  was  glad  to  meet  me  among  his  rela- 
tions the  de  Coverleys,  and  hoped  I  liked  the  conversation 
of  so  much  good  company,  who  were  as  silent  as  myself. 
I  know  he  alluded  to  the  pictures;  and,  as  he  is  a  gen- 
tleman who  does  not  a  liftle  value  himself  upon  his  an- 
cient descent,  I  expected  he  would  give  me  some  account 
of  them.  We  were  now  arrived  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
gallery,  when  the  knight  faced  toward  one  of  the  pictures 
and,  as  we  stood  before  it,  he  entered  into  the  matter, 
after  his  blunt  way  of  saying  things  as  they  occur  to  his 
imagination,  without  regular  introduction  or  care  to  pre- 
serve the  appearance  of  chain  of  thought. 

"It  is,"  said  he,  "worth  while  to  consider  the  force  of 
dress,  and  how  the  persons  of  one  age  differ  from  those 
of  another  merely  by  that  only.  One  may  observe,  also, 
that  the  general  fashion  of  one  age  has  been  followed  by 
one  particular  set  of  people  in  another,  and  by  them 
preserved  from  one  generation  to  another.  Thus,  the  vast 
jetting  coat  and  small  bonnet,  which  was  the  habit  in 
Harry  the  Seventh's  time,  is  kept  on  in  the  yeomen  of 
the  guard;  not  without  a  good  and  politic  view,  because 
they  look  a  foot  taller  and  a  foot  and  a  half  broader; 
besides  that  the  cap  leaves  the  face  expanded,  and  conse- 
quently more  terrible  and  fitter  to  stand  at  the  entrance 
of  palaces. 

"This  predecessor  of  ours,  you  see,  is  dressed  after  this 
manner,  and  his  cheeks  would  be  no  larger  than  mine, 
were  he  in  a  hat  as  I  am.  He  was  the  last  man  that  won 
a  prize  in  the  Tilt  Yard,  which  is  now  a  common  street 
before  Whitehall.  You  see  the  broken  lance  that  lies 
there  by  his  right  foot:  he  shivered  that  lance  of  his  ad- 
versary all  to  pieces;  and,  bearing  himself,  look  you,  sir, 
in  this  manner,  at  the  same  time  he  came  within  the 
target  of  the  gentleman  who  rode  against  him,  and  taking 
him  with  incredible  force  before  him  on  the  pommel  of 
his  saddle,  he  in  that  manner  rid  the  tournament  over, 
with  an  air  that  showed  he  did  it  rather  to  perform  the 
rule  of  the  lists  than  expose  his  enemy;  however,  it  ap- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  183 

peared  he  knew  how  to  make  use  of  a  victory,  and,  with 
a  gentle  trot,  he  marched  up  to  a  gallery  where  their  mis- 
tress sat,  for  they  were  rivals,  and  let  him  down  with 
laudable  courtesy  and  pardonable  insolence.  I  don't  know 
but  it  might  be  exactly  where  the  coffee-house  is  now. 

"You  are  to  know  this  my  ancestor  was  not  only  of  a 
military  genius  but  fit  also  for  the  arts  of  peace,  for  he 
played  on  the  bass-viol  as  well  as  any  gentleman  at  court ; 
you  see  where  his  viol  hangs  by  his  basket-hilt  sword. 
The  action  of  the  Tilt  Yard  you  may  be  sure  won  the 
fair  lady,  who  was  a  maid  of  honor  and  the  greatest 
beauty  of  her  time;  here  she  stands,  the  next  picture. 
You  see,  sir,  my  great-great-great-grandmother  has  on  the 
new-fashioned  petticoat,  except  that  the  modern  is  gath- 
ered at  the  waist ;  my  grandmother  appears  as  if  she  stood 
in  a  large  drum,  whereas  the  ladies  now  walk  as  if  they 
were  in  a  go-cart.  For  all  this  lady  was  bred  at  court, 
she  became  an  excellent  country  wife;  she  brought  ten 
children,  and,  when  I  show  you  the  library,  you  shall  see, 
in  her  own  hand  (allowing  for  the  difference  of  the  lan- 
guage), the  best  receipt  now  in  England  both  for  an 
hasty-pudding  and  a  white-pot. 

"If  you  please  to  fall  back  a  little,  because  'tis  neces- 
sary to  look  at  the  three  next  pictures  at  one  view,  these 
are  three  sisters.  She  on  the  right  hand,  who  is  so  very 
beautiful,  died  a  maid;  the  next  to  her,  still  handsomer, 
had  the  same  fate  against  her  will;  this  homely  thing  in 
the  middle  had  both  their  portions  added  to  her  own,  and 
was  stolen  by  a  neighboring  gentleman,  a  man  of  strata- 
gem and  resolution,  for  he  poisoned  three  mastiffs  to  come 
at  her,  and  knocked  down  two  deer-stealers  in  carrying 
her  off.  Misfortunes  happen  in  all  families.  The  theft 
of  this  romp  and  so  much  money  was  no  great  matter  to 
our  estate.  But  the  next  heir  that  possessed  it  was  this 
soft  gentleman,  whom  you  see  there;  observe  the  small 
buttons,  the  little  boots,  the  laces,  the  slashes  about  his 
clothes,  and  above  all,  the  posture  he  is  drawn  in  (which 
to  be  sure  was  his  own  choosing) ;  you  see  he  sits  with 


184  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

one  hand  on  a  desk,  writing  and  looking  as  it  were  an- 
other way,  like  an  easy  writer  or  a  sonneteer.  He  was 
one  of  those  that  had  too  much  wit  to  know  how  to  live 
in  the  world;  he  was  a  man  of  no  justice  but  great  good 
manners;  he  ruined  everybody  that  had  anything  to  do 
with  him,  but  never  said  a  rude  thing  in  his  life;  the 
most  indolent  person  in  the  world,  he  would  sign  a  deed 
that  passed  away  half  his  estate,  with  his  gloves  on,  but 
would  not  put  on  his  hat  before  a  lady  if  it  were  to  save 
his  country.  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,  by  all  hands  I  have 
been  informed  that  he  was  every  way  the  finest  gentleman 
in  the  world.  That  debt  lay  heavy  on  our  house  for  one 
generation;  but  it  was  retrieved  by  a  gift  from  that  hon- 
est man  you  see  there,  a  citizen  of  our  name  but  noth- 
ing at  all  akin  to  us.  I  know  Sir  Andrew  Ereeport  has 
said  behind  my  back  that  this  man  was  descended  from 
one  of  the  ten  children  of  the  maid  of  honor  I  showed 
you  above;  but  it  was  never  made  out.  We  winked  at 
the  thing,  indeed,  because  money  was  wanting  at  that 
time.'' 

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

Sir  Eoger  went  on  with  his  account  of  the  gallery  in 
the  following  manner:  "This  man"  (pointing  to  him  I 
looked  at)  "I  take  to  be  the  honor  of  our  house,  Sir 
Humphrey  de  Coverley;  he  was,  in  his  dealings,  as  punc- 
tual as  a  tradesman  and  as  generous  as  a  gentleman.  He 
would  have  thought  himself  as  much  undone  by  breaking 
his  word  as  if  it  were  to  be  followed  by  bankruptcy.  He 
served  his  country  as  knight  of  this  shire  to  his  dying 
day.  He  found  it  no  easy  matter  to  maintain  an  integ- 
rity in  his  words  and  actions,  even  in  things  that  re- 
garded the  offices  which  were  incumbent  upon  him,  in 
the  care  of  his  own  affairs  and  relations  of  life,  and  there- 
fore dreaded,  though  he  had  great  talents,  to  go  into  em- 
ployments  of  state,  where  he  must  be  exposed  to  the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  185 

snares  of  ambition.  Innocence  of  life  and  great  ability 
were  the  distinguishing  parts  of  his  character;  the  latter, 
he  had  often  observed,  had  led  to  the  destruction  of  the 
former,  and  used  frequently  to  lament  that  great  and  good 
had  not  the  same  signification.  He  was  an  excellent  hus- 
bandman, but  had  resolved  not  to  exceed  such  a  degree 
of  wealth;  all  above  it  he  bestowed  in  secret  bounties 
many  years  after  the  sum  he  aimed  at  for  his  own  use 
was  attained.  Yet  he  did  not  slacken  his  industry,  but 
to  a  decent  old  age  spent  the  life  and  fortune  which  was 
superfluous  to  himself  in  the  service  of  his  friends  and 
neighbors." 

Here  we  were  called  to  dinner,  and  Sir  Roger  ended 
the  discourse  of  this  gentleman  by  telling  me,  as  we  fol- 
lowed the  servant,  that  this  his  ancestor  was  a  brave  man, 
and  narrowly  escaped  being  killed  in  the  Civil  Wars; 
'^for,^'  said  he,  ^*he  was  sent  out  of  the  field  upon  a  pri- 
vate message  the  day  before  the  battle  of  Worcester." 

The  whim  of  narrowly  escaping  by  having  been  within 
a  day  of  danger,  with  other  matters  above  mentioned, 
mixed  with  good  sense,  left  me  at  a  loss  whether  I  was 
more  delighted  with  my  friend's  wisdom  or  simplicity. 

R. 

[Spectator  No.  110.    Friday,  July  6,  1711.     Addison.] 

Horror  ubique  animos,   simul  ipsa  silentia  terrent.* 

— ^Vebgil. 

At  a  little  distance  from  Sir  Roger's  house,  among  the 
ruins  of  an  old  abbey,  there  is  a  long  walk  of  aged  elms, 
which  are  shot  up  so  very  high  that,  when  one  passes 
under  them,  the  rooks  and  crows  that  rest  upon  the  tops 
of  them  seem  to  be  cawing  in  another  region.  I  am  very 
much  delighted  with  this  sort  of  noise,  which  I  consider 
as  a  kind  of  natural  prayer  to  that  Being  who  supplies 
the  wants  of  His  whole  creation,  and  who,  in  the  beauti- 

*  "All  things  are  full  of  horror  and  affright, 

And  dreadful  ev'n  the  silence   of  the  night." — Drtdbn. 


186  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

f  ul  lan^age  of  the  Psalms,  f  eedeth  the  young  ravens  that 
call  upon  Him.  I  like  this  retirement  the  better,  be- 
cause of  an  ill  report  it  lies  under  of  being  haunted;  for 
which  reason,  as  I  have  been  told  in  the  family,  no  living 
creature  ever  walks  in  it  besides  the  chaplain.  My  good 
friend  the  butler  desired  me,  with  a  very  grave  face,  not 
to  venture  myself  in  it  after  sunset,  for  that  one  of  the 
footmen  had  been  almost  frighted  out  of  his  wits  by  a 
spirit  that  appeared  to  him  in  the  shape  of  a  black  horse 
without  an  head;  to  which  he  added,  that  about  a  month 
ago  one  of  the  maids  coming  home  late  that  way,  with  a 
pail  of  milk  upon  her  head,  heard  such  a  rustling  among 
the  bushes  that  she  let  it  fall. 

I  was  taking  a  walk  in  this  place  last  night,  between 
the  hours  of  nine  and  ten,  and  could  not  but  fancy  it  one 
of  the  most  proper  scenes  in  the  world  for  a  ghost  to  ap- 
pear in.  The  ruins  of  the  abbey  are  scattered  up  and 
down  on  every  side,  and  half  covered  with  ivy  and  elder- 
bushes,  the  harbors  of  several  solitary  birds,  which  seldom 
make  their  appearance  till  the  dusk  of  the  evening.  The 
place  was  formerly  a  churchyard,  and  has  still  several 
marks  in  it  of  graves  and  burying-places.  There  is  such 
an  echo  among  the  old  ruins  and  vaults  that,  if  you  stamp 
but  a  little  louder  than  ordinary,  you  hear  the  sound  re- 
peated. At  the  same  time  the  walk  of  elms,  with  the 
croaking  of  the  ravens,  which  from  time  to  time  are 
heard  from  the  tops  of  them,  looks  exceeding  solemn  and 
venerable.  These  objects  naturally  raise  seriousness  and 
attention;  and  when  night  heightens  the  awfulness  of  the 
place  and  pours  out  her  supernumerary  horrors  upon 
everything  in  it,  I  do  not  at  all  wonder  that  weak  minds 
fill  it  with  specters  and  apparitions. 

Mr.  Locke,  in  his  chapter  on  the  Association  of  Ideas, 
has  very  curious  remarks  to  show  how,  by  the  prejudice 
of  education,  one  idea  often  introduces  into  the  mind  a 
whole  set  that  bear  no  resemblance  to  one  another  in  the 
nature  of  things.  Among  several  examples  of  this  kind, 
he  produces  the  following  instance:     "The  ideas  of  gob- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  187 

lins  and  sprites  have  really  no  more  to  do  with  dark- 
ness than  light ;  yet,  let  but  a  foolish  maid  inculcate  these 
often  on  the  mind  of  a  child  and  raise  them  there  together, 
possibly  he  shall  never  be  able  to  separate  them  again  so 
long  as  he  lives,  but  darkness  shall  ever  afterward  bring 
with  it  those  frightful  ideas,  and  they  shall  be  so  joined 
that  he  can  no  more  bear  the  one  than  the  other." 

As  I  was  walking  in  the  solitude,  where  the  dusk  of 
the  evening  conspired  with  so  many  other  occasions  of 
terror,  I  observed  a  cow  grazing  not  far  from  me,  which 
an  imagination  that  is  apt  to  startle  might  easily  have 
construed  into  a  black  horse  without  an  head;  and  I  dare 
say  the  poor  footman  lost  his  wits  upon  some  such  trivial 
occasion. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  has  often  told  me,  with  a  great 
deal  of  mirth,  that  at  his  first  coming  to  his  estate,  he 
found  three  parts  of  his  house  altogether  useless;  that 
the  best  room  in  it  had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted, 
and  by  that  means  was  locked  up;  that  noises  had  been 
heard  in  his  long  gallery,  so  that  he  could  not  get  a  serv- 
ant to  enter  it  after  eight  o'clock  at  night;  that  the  door 
of  one  of  his  chambers  was  nailed  up,  because  there  went 
a  story  in  the  family  that  a  butler  had  formerly  hanged 
himself  in  it;  and  that  his  mother,  who  lived  to  a  great 
age,  had  shut  up  half  the  rooms  in  the  house,  in  which 
either  her  husband,  a  son,  or  daughter  had  died.  The 
knight,  seeing  his  habitation  reduced  to  so  small  a  com- 
pass, and  himself  in  a  manner  shut  out  of  his  own  house, 
upon  the  death  of  his  mother  ordered  all  the  apartments 
to  be  flung  open  and  exorcised  by  his  chaplain,  who  lay 
in  every  room  one  after  another,  and  by  that  means  dis- 
sipated the  fears  which  had  so  long  reigned  in  the  family. 

I  should  not  have  been  thus  particular  upon  these  ridic- 
ulous horrors,  did  not  I  find  them  so  very  much  prevail 
in  all  parts  of  the  country.  At  the  same  time,  I  think 
a  person  who  is  thus  terrified  with  the  imagination  of 
ghosts  and  specters  much  more  reasonable  than  one  who, 
contrary  to  the  reports  of  all  historians,  sacred  and  pro- 


188  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

fane,  ancient  and  modern,  and  to  the  traditions  of  all 
nations,  thinks  the  appearance  of  spirits  fabulous  and 
groundless.  Could  not  I  give  myself  up  to  this  general 
testimony  of  mankind,  I  should  to  the  relations  of  par- 
ticular persons  who  are  now  living  and  whom  I  cannot 
distrust  in  other  matters  of  fact.  I  might  here  add,  that 
not  only  the  historians,  to  whom  we  may  join  the  poets, 
but  likewise  the  philosophers  of  antiquity  have  favored 
this  opinion.  Lucretius  himself,  though  by  the  course  of 
his  philosophy  he  was  obliged  to  maintain  that  the  soul 
did  not  exist  separate  from  the  body,  makes  no  doubt  of 
the  reality  of  apparitions,  and  that  men  have  often  ap- 
peared after  their  death.  This  I  think  very  remarkable; 
he  was  so  pressed  with  the  matter  of  fact  which  he  could 
not  have  the  confidence  to  deny,  that  he  was  forced  to 
account  for  it  by  one  of  the  most  absurd  unphilosophical 
notions  that  was  ever  started.  He  tells  us  that  the  sur- 
faces of  all  bodies  are  perpetually  flying  off  from  their 
respective  bodies  one  after  another,  and  that  these  sur- 
faces or  thin  cases  that  included  each  other,  whilst  they 
were  joined  in  the  body,  like  the  coats  of  an  onion,  are 
sometimes  seen  entire  when  they  are  separated  from  it; 
by  which  means  we  often  behold  the  shapes  and  shadows 
of  persons  who  are  either  dead  or  absent. 

I  shall  dismiss  this  paper  with  a  story  out  of  Josephus, 
not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  story  itseK  as  for  the 
moral  reflections  with  which  the  author  concludes  it,  and 
which  I  shall  here  set  down  in  his  own  words : — 

^'Glaphyra,  the  daughter  of  King  Archelaus,  after  the 
death  of  her  two  first  husbands  (being  married  to  a  third, 
who  was  brother  to  her  first  husband,  and  so  passionately 
in  love  with  her  that  he  turned  off  his  former  wife  to 
make  room  for  this  marriage)  had  a  very  odd  kind  of 
dream.  She  fancied  that  she  saw  her  first  husband  com- 
ing toward  her,  and  that  she  embraced  him  with  great 
tenderness;  when  in  the  midst  of  the  pleasure  which  she 
expressed  at  the  sight  of  him,  he  reproached  her  after 
the* following  manner: — 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  189 

"  ^Glaphyra/  says  he,  Hhou  hast  made  good  the  old  say- 
ing that  women  are  not  to  be  trusted.  Was  not  I  the 
husband  of  thy  virginity?  Have  I  not  children  by  thee? 
How  couldst  thou  forget  our  loves  so  far  as  to  enter  into 
a  second  marriage,  and  after  that  into  a  third  ?  .  .  .  How- 
ever, for  the  sake  of  our  past  loves  I  shall  free  thee  from 
thy  present  reproach,  and  make  thee  mine  forever/ 

"Glaphyra  told  this  dream  to  several  women  of  her  ac- 
quaintance, and  died  soon  after. 

"I  thought  this  story  might  not  be  impertinent  in  this 
place  wherein  I  speak  of  those  kings.  Besides  that,  the 
example  deserves  to  be  taken  notice  of,  as  it  contains 
a  most  certain  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and 
of  divine  providence.  If  any  man  thinks  these  facts  in- 
credible, let  him  enjoy  his  own  opinion  to  himself,  but 
let  him  not  endeavor  to  disturb  the  belief  of  others,  who 
by  instances  of  this  nature  are  excited  to  the  study  of 
virtue."  L. 

[Spectator  No.  112.    Monday,  July  9,  1711.    Addison.] 

*A$av6.T0vs  nlv  irpwra  0eovs,  v6/Mi^  cbs  dtdicctrai, 

— ^Pythagoras. 

I  am  always  very  well  pleased  with  a  country  Sunday, 
and  think,  if  keeping  holy  the  seventh  day  were  only  a 
human  institution,  it  would  be  the  best  method  that  could 
have  been  thought  of  for  the  polishing  and  civilizing  of 
mankind.  It  is  certain  the  country  people  would  soon 
degenerate  into  a  kind  of  savages  and  barbarians  were 
there  not  such  frequent  returns  of  a  stated  time,  in  which 
the  whole  village  meet  together  with  their  best  faces, 
and  in  their  cleanliest  habits,  to  converse  with  one  an- 
other upon  indifferent  subjects,  hear  their  duties  explained 
to  them,  and  join  together  in  adoration  of  the  Supreme 
Being.     Sunday  clears  away  the  rust  of  the  whole  week, 

» "First   in   obedience  to  thy  country's  ritea 
Worship  the  immortal  gods/* 


190  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

not  only  as  it  refreshes  in  their  minds  the  notions  of  re- 
ligion, but  as  it  puts  both  the  sexes  upon  appearing  in 
their  most  agreeable  forms,  and  exerting  all  such  qualities 
as  are  apt  to  give  them  a  figure  in  the  eye  of  the  village. 
A  country  fellow  distinguishes  himself  as  much  in  the 
churchyard  as  a  citizen  does  upon  the  'Change,  the  whole 
parish  politics  being  generally  discussed  in  that  place 
either  after  sermon  or  before  the  bell  rings. 

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

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

I  was  yesterday  very  much  surprised  to  hear  my  old 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  191 

friend,  in  the  midst  of  the  service,  calling  out  to  one 
John  Matthews  to  mind  what  he  was  about,  and  not  dis- 
turb the  congregation.  This  John  Matthews,  it  seems, 
is  remarkable  for  being  an  idle  fellow,  and  at  that  time 
was  kicking  his  heels  for  his  diversion.  This  authority 
of  the  knight,  though  exerted  in  that  odd  manner  which 
accompanies  him  in  all  circumstances  of  life,  has  a  very- 
good  effect  upon  the  parish,  who  are  not  polite  enough  to 
see  anything  ridiculous  in  his  behavior;  besides  that  the 
general  good  sense  and  worthiness  of  his  character  makes 
his  friends  observe  these  little  singularities  as  foils  that 
rather  set  off  than  blemish  his  good  qualities. 

As  soon  as  the  sermon  is  finished,  nobody  presumes  to 
stir  till  Sir  Eoger  is  gone  out  of  the  church.  The  knight 
walks  down  from  his  seat  in  the  chancel  between  a  double 
row  of  his  tenants,  that  stand  bowing  to  him  on  each 
side,  and  every  now  and  then  inquires  how  such  an  one's 
wife,  or  mother,  or  son,  or  father  do,  whom  he  does  not 
see  at  church, — ^which  is  understood  as  a  secret  reprimand 
to  the  person  that  is  absent. 

The  chaplain  has  often  told  me  that,  upon  a  catechizing 
day,  when  Sir  Eoger  had  been  pleased  with  a  boy  that 
answers  well,  he  has  ordered  a  Bible  to  be  given  him  next 
day  for  his  encouragement,  and  sometimes  accompanies 
it  with  a  flitch  of  bacon  to  his  mother.  Sir  Eoger  has 
likewise  added  five  pounds  a  year  to  the  clerk's  place; 
and,  that  he  may  encourage  the  young  fellows  to  make 
themselves  perfect  in  the  church  service,  has  promised, 
upon  the  death  of  the  present  incumbent,  who  is  very  old, 
to  bestow  it  according  to  merit. 

The  fair  understanding  between  Sir  Eoger  and  his 
chaplain,  and  their  mutual  concurrence  in  doing  good,  is 
the  more  remarkable  because  the  very  next  village  is  fa- 
mous for  the  differences  and  contentions  that  rise  between 
the  parson  and  the  squire,  who  live  in  a  perpetual  state 
of  war.  The  parson  is  always  preaching  at  the  squire, 
and  the  squire,  to  be  revenged  on  the  parson,  never  comes 
to  church.     The  squire  has  made  all  his  tenants  atheists 


192  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

and  tithe-stealers ;  while  the  parson  instructs  them  every 
Sunday  in  the  dignity  of  his  order,  and  insinuates  to  them 
in  almost  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  his  prayers  either  in  public 
or  private  this  half  year;  and  that  the  parson  threatens 
him,  if  he  does  not  mend  his  manners,  to  pray  for  him  in 
the  face  of  the  whole  congregation. 

Feuds  of  this  nature,  though  too  frequent  in  the  coun- 
try, are  very  fatal  to  the  ordinary  people,  who  are  so 
used  to  be  dazzled  with  riches  that  they  pay  as  much  def- 
erence to  the  understanding  of  a  man  of  an  estate  as  of 
a  man  of  learning;  and  are  very  hardly  brought  to  regard 
any  truth,  how  important  soever  it  may  be,  that  is 
preached  to  them,  when  they  know  there  are  several  men 
of  five  hundred  a  year  who  do  not  believe  it.  L. 

[Spectator  No.  113.    Tuesday,  July  10,  1711.    Steele.] 

Haerent  infixi  pectore  vultus.* 

— ^Vebqil. 

In  my  first  description  of  the  company  in  which  I  pass 
most  of  my  time,  it  may  be  remembered  that  I  men- 
tioned a  great  affliction  which  my  friend  Sir  Eoger  had 
met  with  in  his  youth:  which  was  no  less  than  a  disap- 
pointment in  love.  It  happened  this  evening  that  we  fell 
into  a  very  pleasing  walk  at  a  distance  from  his  house. 
As  soon  as  we  came  into  it,  "It  is,"  quoth  the  good  old 
man,  looking  round  him  with  a  smile,  "very  hard  that 
any  part  of  my  land  should  be  settled  upon  one  who  has 
used  me  so  ill  as  the  perverse  widow  did;  and  yet  I  am 
sure  I  could  not  see  a  sprig  of  any  bough  of  this  whole 
walk  of  trees  but  I  should  reflect  upon  her  and  her  sever- 
ity. She  has  certainly  the  finest  hand  of  any  woman  in 
the  world.  You  are  to  know  this  was  the  place  wherein 
I  used  to  muse  upon  her;  and  by  that  custom  I  can  never 

» "Her  looks  were  deep  Imprinted  in  his  heart." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  193 

come  into  it  but  the  same  tender  sentiments  revive  in  my 
mind,  as  if  I  had  actually  walked  with  that  beautiful 
creature  under  these  shades.  I  have  been  fool  enough  to 
carve  her  name  on  the  bark  of  several  of  these  trees;  so 
unhappy  is  the  condition  of  men  in  love  to  attempt  the 
removing  of  their  passion  by  the  methods  which  serve 
pnly  to  imprint  it  deeper.  She  has  certainly  the  finest 
hand  of  any  woman  in  the  world.'' 

Here  followed  a  profound  silence;  and  I  was  not  dis- 
pleased to  observe  my  friend  falling  so  naturally  into  a 
discourse  which  I  had  ever  before  taken  notice  he  indus- 
triously avoided.  After  a  very  long  pause  he  entered 
upon  an  account  of  this  great  circumstance  in  his  life, 
with  an  air  which  I  thought  raised  my  idea  of  him  above 
what  I  had  ever  had  before;  and  gave  me  the  picture  of 
that  cheerful  mind  of  his  before  it  received  that  stroke 
which  has  ever  since  affected  his  words  and  actions.  But 
he  went  on  as  follows : — 

"I  came  to  my  estate  in  my  twenty-second  year,  and 
resolved  to  follow  the  steps  of  the  most  worthy  of  my 
ancestors  who  have  inhabited  this  spot  of  earth  before  me, 
in  all  the  methods  of  hospitality  and  good  neighborhood, 
for  the  sake  of  my  fame,  and  in  country  sports  and  rec- 
reations, for  the  sake  of  my  health.  In  my  twenty-third 
year  I  was  obliged  to  serve  as  sheriff  of  the  county;  and 
in  my  servants,  officers,  and  whole  equipage,  indulged  the 
pleasure  of  a  young  man,  who  did  not  think  ill  of  his  own 
person,  in  taking  that  public  occasion  of  showing  my  fig- 
ure and  behavior  to  advantage.  You  may  easily  imagine 
to  yourself  what  appearance  I  made,  who  am  pretty  tall, 
rid  well,  and  was  very  well  dressed,  at  the  head  of  a  whole 
county,  with  music  before  me,  a  feather  in  my  hat,  and 
my  horse  well  bitted.  I  can  assure  you  I  was  not  a  little 
pleased  with  the  kind  looks  and  glances  I  had  from  all 
the  balconies  and  windows,  as  I  rode  to  the  hall  where 
the  assizes  were  held.  But  when  I  came  there,  a  beau- 
tiful creature  in  a  widow's  habit  sat  in  court  to  hear  the 
event  of  a  cause  concerning  her  dower.     This  commanding 


194  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

creature,  who  was  born  for  destruction  of  all  who  behold 
her,  put  on  such  a  resignation  in  her  countenance,  and 
bore  the  whispers  of  all  around  the  court  with  such  pretty 
uneasiness,  I  warrant  you,  and  then  recovered  herself 
from  one  eye  to  another,  till  she  was  perfectly  confused 
by  meeting  something  so  wistful  in  all  she  encountered, 
that  at  last,  with  a  murrain  to  her,  she  cast  her  bewitching 
eye  upon  me.  I  no  sooner  met  it  but  I  bowed  like  a 
great  surprised  booby;  and,  knowing  her  cause  to  be  the 
first  which  came  on,  I  cried,  like  a  captivated  calf  as  I 
was,  'Make  way  for  the  defendant's  witnesses.'  This  sud- 
den partiality  made  all  the  county  immediately  see  the 
sheriff  also  was  become  a  slave  to  the  fine  widow.  Dur- 
ing the  time  her  cause  was  upon  trial,  she  behaved  her- 
self, I  warrant  you,  with  such  a  deep  attention  to  her 
business,  took  opportunities  to  have  little  billets  handed 
to  her  counsel,  then  would  be  in  such  a  pretty  confusion, 
occasioned,  you  must  know,  by  acting  before  so  much  com- 
pany, that  not  only  I  but  the  whole  court  was  prejudiced 
in  her  favor;  and  all  that  the  next  heir  to  her  husband 
had  to  urge  was  thought  so  groundless  and  frivolous  that, 
when  it  came  to  her  counsel  to  reply,  there  was  not  half 
so  much  said  as  every  one  besides  in  the  court  thought 
he  could  have  urged  to  her  advantage.  You  must  under- 
stand, sir,  this  perverse  woman  is  one  of  those  unaccount- 
able creatures  that  secretly  rejoice  in  the  admiration  of 
men,  but  indulge  themselves  in  no  further  consequences. 
Hence  it  is  that  she  has  ever  had  a  train  of  admirers,  and 
she  removes  from  her  slaves  in  town  to  those  in  the  coun- 
try according  to  the  seasons  of  the  year.  She  is  a  read- 
ing lady,  and  far  gone  in  the  pleasures  of  friendship;  she 
is  always  accompanied  by  a  confidante,  who  is  witness  to 
her  daily  protestations  against  our  sex,  and  consequently 
a  bar  to  her  first  steps  toward  love,  upon  the  strength  of 
her  own  maxims  and  declarations. 

"However,  I  must  needs  say  this  accomplished  mistress 
of  mine  has  distinguished  me  above  the  rest,  and  has  been 
known  to  declare  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  was  the  tamest 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  195 

and  most  human  of  all  the  brutes  in  the  country.  I  was 
told  she  said  so  by  one  who  thought  he  rallied  me;  but, 
upon  the  strength  of  this  slender  encouragement  of  being 
thought  least  detestable,  I  made  new  liveries,  new-paired 
my  coach-horses,  sent  them  all  to  town  to  be  bitted  and 
taught  to  throw  their  legs  well  and  move  all  together,  be- 
fore I  pretended  to  cross  the  country  and  wait  upon  her. 
As  soon  as  I  thought  my  retinue  suitable  to  the  charac- 
ter of  my  fortune  and  youth,  I  set  out  from  hence  to 
make  my  addressee.  The  particular  skill  of  this  lady  has 
ever  been  to  inflame  your  wishes  and  yet  command  re- 
specto  To  make  her  mistress  of  this  art,  she  has  a  greater 
share  of  knowledge,  wit,  and  good  sense  than  is  usual 
even  among  men  of  merit.  Then  she  is  beautiful  be- 
yond the  race  of  women.  If  you  won't  let  her  go  on  with 
a  certain  artifice  with  her  eyes  and  the  skiU  of  beauty, 
she  will  arm  herself  with  her  real  charms,  and  strike  you 
with  admiration.  It  is  certain  that,  if  you  were  to  be- 
hold the  whole  woman,  there  is  that  dignity  in  her  as- 
pect, that  composure  in  her  motion,  that  complacency  in 
her  manner,  that  if  her  form  makes  you  hope,  her  merit 
makes  you  fear.  But  then  again,  she  is  such  a  desperate 
scholar  that  no  country  gentleman  can  approach  her  with- 
out being  a  jest.  As  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  when  I  came 
to  her  house  I  was  admitted  to  her  presence  with  great 
civility;  at  the  same  time  she  placed  herself  to  be  first 
seen  by  me  in  such  an  attitude,  as  I  think  you  call  the 
posture  of  a  picture,  that  she  discovered  new  charms,  and 
I  at  last  came  toward  her  with  such  an  awe  as  made  me 
speechless.  This  she  no  sooner  observed  but  she  made 
her  advantage  of  it,  and  began  a  discourse  to  me  con- 
cerning love  and  honor,  as  they  both  are  followed  by  pre- 
tenders and  the  real  votaries  to  them.  When  she  had  dis- 
cussed these  points  in  a  discourse  which  I  verily  believe 
was  as  learned  as  the  best  philosopher  in  Europe  could 
possibly  make,  she  asked  me  whether  she  was  so  happy  as 
to  fall  in  with  my  sentiments  on  these  important  par- 
ticulars.   Her  confidante  sat  by  her,  and,  upon  my  being 


196  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

in  the  last  confusion  and  silence,  this  malicious  aid  of 
hers,  turning  to  her,  says,  ^I  am  very  glad  to  observe  Sir 
Roger  pauses  upon  this  subject,  and  seems  resolved  to  de- 
liver all  his  sentiments  upon  the  matter  when  he  pleases 
to  speak/  They  both  kept  their  countenances,  and  after 
I  had  sat  half  an  hour  meditating  how  to  behave  before 
such  profound  casuists,  I  rose  up  and  took  my  leave. 
Chance  has  since  that  time  thrown  me  very  often  in  her 
way,  and  she  as  often  has  directed  a  discourse  to  me  which 
I  do  not  understand.  This  barbarity  has  kept  me  ever 
at  a  distance  from  the  most  beautiful  object  my  eyes  ever 
beheld.  It  is  thus  also  she  deals  with  all  mankind,  and 
you  must  make  love  to  her,  as  you  would  conquer  the 
Sphinx,  by  posing  her.  But  were  she  like  other  women, 
and  that  there  were  any  talking  to  her,  how  constant  must 
the  pleasure  of  that  man  be  who  could  converse  with  a 
creature —  But,  after  all,  you  may  be  sure  her  heart  is 
fixed  on  some  one  or  other;  and  yet  I  have  been  credibly 
informed — ^but  who  can  believe  half  that  is  said?  After 
she  had  done  speaking  to  me,  she  put  her  hand  to  her 
bosom  and  adjusted  her  tucker.  Then  she  cast  her  eyes 
a  little  down,  upon  my  beholding  her  too  earnestly.  They 
say  she  sings  excellently ;  her  voice  in  her  ordinary  speech 
has  something  in  it  inexpressibly  sweet.  You  must  know 
I  dined  with  her  at  a  public  table  the  day  after  I  first 
saw  her,  and  she  helped  me  to  some  tansy  in  the  eye  of 
all  the  gentlemen  in  the  country:  she  has  certainly  the 
finest  hand  of  any  woman  in  the  world.  I  can  assure  you, 
sir,  were  you  to  behold  her,  you  would  be  in  the  same 
condition;  for  as  her  speech  is  music,  her  form  is  angelic. 
But  I  find  I  grow  irregular  while  I  am  talking  of  her; 
but  indeed  it  would  be  stupidity  to  be  unconcerned  at 
such  perfection.  Oh,  the  excellent  creature!  she  is  as 
inimitable  to  all  women  as  she  is  inaccessible  to  all  men." 
I  found  my  friend  begin  to  rave,  and  insensibly  led 
him  toward  the  house,  that  we  might  be  joined  by  some 
other  company;  and  am  convinced  that  the  widow  is  the 
secret  cause  of  all  that  inconsistency  which  appears  in 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  197 

some  parts  of  my  friend's  discourse;  though  he  has  so 
much  command  of  himself  as  not  directly  to  mention  her, 
yet  according  to  that  passage  of  Martial,  which  one  knows 
not  how  to  render  in  English,  ''Dvrni  tacet  hanc  loquitur/^ 
I  shall  end  this  paper  with  that  whole  epigram,  which  rep- 
resents with  much  himior  my  honest  friend's  condition: 

"Quicquid  agit  Rufus,  nihil  est  nisi  Naevia  Rufo; 
Si  gaudet,  si  flet,  si  tacet,  hanc  loquitur: 
Cenat,  propinat,  poscit,  negat,  annuit — ^una  est 
Nsevia;  si  non  sit  Naevia,  mustus  erit. 
Scriberet  hesterna  patri  cum  luce  salutem, 
'N'eevia  lux,'  inquit,   T^aevia  lumen,  ave.'  '* 

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

[Spectator  No.  114.    Wednesday,  July  11,  1711. 
Steele.] 

— ^Paupertatis  pudor  et  fuga— -.* 

— ^Horace. 

Economy  in  our  affairs  has  the  same  effect  upon  our 
fortunes  which  good  breeding  has  upon  our  conversations. 
There  is  a  pretending  behavior  in  both  cases,  which,  in- 
stead of  making  men  esteemed,  renders  them  both  miser- 
able and  contemptible.  We  had  yesterday  at  Sir  Roger's 
a  set  of  country  gentlemen  who  dined  with  him ;  and  after 
dinner  the  glass  was  taken,  by  those  who  pleased,  pretty 
plentifully.  Among  others,  I  observed  a  person  of  a  tol- 
erable good  aspect,  who  seemed  to  be  more  greedy  of 
liquor  than  any  of  the  company,  and  yet,  methought,  he 
did  not  taste  it  with  delight.  As  he  grew  warm,  he  was 
suspicious  of  everything  that  was  said;  and  as  he  ad- 

*  — "The  dread  of  nothing  more 
Than  to  be  thought  necessitous  and  poor." 


198  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

vanced  toward  being  fuddled,  his  humor  grew  worse.  At 
the  same  time  his  bitterness  seemed  to  be  rather  an  in- 
ward dissatisfaction  in  his  own  mind  than  any  dislike 
he  had  taken  at  the  company.  Upon  hearing  his  name, 
I  knew  him  to  be  a  gentleman  of  a  considerable  fortune 
in  this  county,  but  greatly  in  debt.  What  gives  the  un- 
happy man  this  peevishness  of  spirit  is,  that  his  estate  is 
dipped,  and  is  eating  out  with  usury ;  and  yet  he  has  not 
the  heart  to  sell  any  part  of  it.  His  proud  stomach,  at 
the  cost  of  restless  nights,  constant  inquietudes,  danger 
of  affronts,  and  a  thousand  nameless  inconveniences,  pre- 
serves this  canker  in  his  fortune,  rather  than  it  shall  be 
said  he  is  a  man  of  fewer  hundreds  a  year  than  he  has 
been  commonly  reputed.  Thus  he  endures  the  t  jrment  of 
poverty,  to  avoid  the  name  of  being  less  rich.  If  you  go 
to  his  house  you  see  great  plenty,  but  served  in  a  manner 
that  shows  it  is  all  unnatural,  and  that  the  master's  mind 
is  not  at  home.  There  is  a  certain  waste  and  careless- 
ness in  the  air  of  everything,  and  the  whole  appears  but 
a  covered  indigence,  a  magnificent  poverty.  That  neat- 
ness and  cheerfulness  which  attends  the  table  of  him  who 
lives  within  compass,  is  wanting,  and  exchanged  for  a 
libertine  way  of  service  in  all  about  him. 

This  gentleman's  conduct,  though  a  very  common  way 
of  management,  is  as  ridiculous  as  that  officer's  would  be 
who  had  but  few  men  under  his  command,  and  should 
take  the  charge  of  an  extent  of  country  rather  than  of  a 
small  pass.  To  pay  for,  personate,  and  keep  in  a  man's 
hands  a  greater  estate  than  he  really  has,  is  of  all  others 
the  most  unpardonable  vanity,  and  must  in  the  end  re- 
duce the  man  who  is  guilty  of  it  to  dishonor.  Yet,  if  we 
look  round  us  in  any  county  of  Great  Britain,  we  shall 
see  many  in  this  fatal  error— if  that  may  be  called  by  so 
soft  a  name  which  proceeds  from  a  false  shame  of  ap- 
pearing what  they  really  are — ^when  the  contrary  behavior 
would  in  a  short  time  advance  them  to  the  condition  which 
they  pretend  to. 

Laertes  has  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a  year,  which  is 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  199 

mortgaged  for  six  thousand  pounds;  but  it  is  impossible 
to  convince  him  that  if  he  sold  as  much  as  would  pay  off 
that  debt  he  would  save  four  shillings  in  the  pound,  which 
he  gives  for  the  vanity  of  being  the  reputed  master  of  it 
Yet,  if  Laertes  did  this,  he  would  perhaps  be  easier  in 
his  own  fortune;  but  then,  Irus,  a  fellow  of  yesterday, 
who  has  but  twelve  hundred  a  year,  would  be  his  equaL 
Rather  than  this  shall  be,  Laertes  goes  on  to  bring  well« 
born  beggars  into  the  world,  and  every  twelvemonth 
charges  his  estate  with  at  least  one  year's  rent  more  by 
the  birth  of  a  child. 

Laertes  and  Irus  are  neighbors,  whose  way  of  living 
are  an  abomination  to  each  other.  Irus  is  moved  by  the 
fear  of  poverty,  and  Laertes  by  the  shame  of  it.  Though 
the  motive  of  action  is  of  so  near  affinity  in  both,  and 
may  be  .resolved  into  this,  "That  to  each  of  them  poverty 
is  the  greatest  of  all  evils,''  yet  are  their  manners  very 
widely  different.  Shame  of  poverty  makes  Laertes  launch 
into  unnecessary  equipage,  vain  expense,  and  lavish  en- 
tertainments; fear  of  poverty  makes  Irus  allow  himself 
only  plain  necessaries,  appear  without  a  servant,  sell  his 
own  corn,  attend  his  laborers,  and  be  himself  a  laborer. 
Shame  of  poverty  makes  Laertes  go  every  day  a  step 
nearer  to  it,  and  fear  of  poverty  stirs  up  Irus  to  make 
every  day  some  further  progress  from  it. 

These  different  motives  produce  the  excesses  which  men 
are  guilty  of  in  the  negligence  of  and  provision  for  them- 
selves. Usury,  stock-jobbing,  extortion,  and  oppression 
have  their  seed  in  the  dread  of  want;  and  vanity,  riot, 
and  prodigality,  from  the  shame  of  it;  but  both  these  ex- 
cesses are  infinitely  below  the  pursuit  of  a  reasonable 
creature.  After  we  have  taken  care  to  command  so  much 
as  is  necessary  for  maintaining  ourselves  in  the  order  of 
men  suitable  to  our  character,  the  care  of  superfluities  is 
a  vice  no  less  extravagant  than  the  neglect  of  necessaries 
would  have  been  before. 

Certain  it  is  that  they  are  both  out  of  nature  when  she 
is  followed  with  reason  and  good  sense.     It  is  from  this 


200  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

reflection  that  I  always  read  Mr.  Cowley  with  the  great- 
est pleasure.  His  magnanimity  is  as  much  above  that 
of  other  considerable  men  as  his  understanding;  and  it 
is  a  true  distinguishing  spirit  in  the  elegant  author  who 
published  his  works,  to  dwell  so  much  upon  the  temper 
of  his  mind  and  the  moderation  of  his  desires.  By  this 
means  he  has  rendered  his  friend  as  amiable  as  famous. 
That  state  of  life  which  bears  the  face  of  poverty  with 
Mr.  Cowley's  "great  vulgar,"  is  admirably  described;  and 
it  is  no  small  satisfaction  to  those  of  the  same  turn  of 
desire,  that  he  produces  the  authority  of  the  wisest  men 
of  the  best  age  of  the  world  to  strengthen  his  opinion  of 
the  ordinary  pursuits  of  mankind. 

It  would,  methinks,  be  no  ill  maxim  of  life  if,  accord- 
ing to  that  ancestor  of  Sir  Roger  whom  I  lately  mentioned, 
every  man  would  point  to  himself  what  sum  he  would 
resolve  not  to  exceed.  He  might  by  this  means  cheat  him- 
self into  a  tranquillity  on  this  side  of  that  expectation,  or 
convert  what  he  should  get  above  it  to  nobler  uses  than 
his  own  pleasures  or  necessities. 

This  temper  of  mind  would  exempt  a  man  from  an  ig- 
norant envy  of  restless  men  above  him,  and  a  more  inex- 
cusable contempt  of  happy  men  below  him.  This  would 
be  sailing  by  some  compass,  living  with  some  design; 
but  to  be  eternally  bewildered  in  prospects  of  future  gain, 
and  putting  on  unnecessary  armor  against  improbable 
blows  of  fortune,  is  a  mechanic  being  which  has  not 
good  sense  for  its  direction,  but  is  carried  on  by  a  sort  of 
acquired  instinct  toward  things  below  our  consideration 
and  unworthy  our  esteem. 

It  is  possible  that  the  tranquillity  I  now  enjoy  at  Sir 
Roger's  may  have  created  in  me  this  way  of  thinking, 
which  is  so  abstracted  from  the  common  relish  of  the 
world;  but,  as  I  am  now  in  a  pleasing  arbor,  surrounded 
with  a  beautiful  landscape,  I  find  no  inclination  so  strong 
as  to  continue  in  these  mansions,  so  remote  from  the  os- 
tentatious scenes  of  life;  and  am,  at  this  present  writing, 
philosopher  enough  to  conclude,  with  Mr.  Cowley : 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  201 

"If  e'er  ambition  did  my  fancy  cheat, 
With  any  wish  so  mean  as  to  be  great, 
Continue,  Heaven,  still  from  me  to  remove 
The  humble  blessings  of  that  life  I  love!"        T. 

[Spectator  No.  115.     Thursday,  July  12,  1711. 
Addison.] 

Ut  sit  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano.* 

— JUVEWAL. 

Bodily  labor  is  of  two  kinds:  either  that  which  a  man 
submits  to  for  his  livelihood,  or  that  which  he  undergoes 
for  his  pleasure.  The  latter  of  them  generally  changes  the 
name  of  labor  for  that  of  exercise,  but  differs  only  from 
ordinary  labor  as  it  rises  from  another  motive. 

A  country  life  abounds  in  both  these  kinds  of  labor, 
and  for  that  reason  gives  a  man  a  greater  stock  of  health, 
and  consequently  a  more  perfect  enjoyment  of  himself, 
than  any  other  way  of  life.  I  consider  the  body  as  a 
system  of  tubes  and  glands,  or,  to  use  a  more  rustic 
phrase,  a  bundle  of  pipes  and  strainers,  fitted  to  one  an- 
other after  so  wonderful  a  manner  as  to  make  a  proper 
engine  for  the  soul  to  work  with,  This  description  does 
not  only  comprehend  the  bones,  tendons,  veins,  nerves, 
and  arteries,  but  every  muscle  and  every  ligature,  which 
is  a  composition  of  fibers  that  are  so  many  imperceptible 
tubes  or  pipes,  interwoven  on  all  sides  with  invisible 
glands  or  strainers. 

This  general  idea  of  a  human  body,  without  considering 
it  in  its  niceties  of  anatomy,  lets  us  see  how  absolutely 
necessary  labor  is  for  the  right  preservation  of  it.  There 
must  be  frequent  motions  and  agitations,  to  mix,  digest, 
and  separate  the  juices  contained  in  it,  as  well  as  to 
clear  and  cleanse  that  infinitude  of  pipes  and  strainers 
of  which  it  is  composed,  and  to  give  their  solid  parts  a 
more  firm  and  lasting  tone.  Labor  or  exercise  ferments 
the  humors,  casts  them  into  their  proper  channels,  throws 
off  redundancies,  and  helps  nature  in  those  secret  distri- 

'  "Pray  for  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body." 


202  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

butions  without  which  the  body  cannot  subsist  in  its  vigor, 
nor  the  soul  act  with  cheerfulness. 

I  might  here  mention  the  effects  which  this  has  upon 
all  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  by  keeping  the  understand- 
ing clear,  the  imagination  untroubled,  and  refining  those 
spirits  that  are  necessary  for  the  proper  exertion  of  our 
intellectual  faculties,  during  the  present  laws  of  union 
between  soul  and  body.  It  is  to  a  neglect  in  this  par- 
ticular that  we  must  ascribe  the  spleen  which  is  so  fre- 
quent in  men  of  studious  and  sedentary  tempers,  as  well 
as  the  vapors  to  which  those  of  the  other  sex  are  so  often 
subject. 

Had  not  exercise  been  absolutely  necessary  for  our  well- 
being,  nature  would  not  have  made  the  body  so  proper 
for  it,  by  giving  such  an  activity  to  the  limbs  and  such 
a  pliancy  to  every  part  as  necessarily  produce  those  com- 
pressionSp  extensions,  contortions,  dilatations,  and  all 
other  kinds  of  motions  that  are  necessary  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  such  a  system  of  tubes  and  glands  as  has  been 
before  mentioned.  And  that  we  might  not  want  induce- 
ments to  engage  us  in  such  an  exercise  of  the  body  as  is 
proper  for  its  welfare,  it  is  so  ordered  that  nothing  valu- 
able can  be  procured  without  it.  Not  to  mention  riches 
and  honor,  even  food  and  raiment  are  not  to  be  come 
at  without  the  toil  of  the  hands  and  sweat  of  the  brows. 
Providence  furnishes  materials,  but  expects  that  we 
should  work  them  up  ourselves.  The  earth  must  be  la- 
bored befo.re  it  gives  its  increase;  and  when  it  is  forced 
into  its  several  products,  how  many  hands  must  they  pass 
through  before  they  are  fit  for  use!  Manufactures,  trade, 
and  agriculture  naturally  employ  more  than  nineteen 
parts  of  the  species  in  twenty;  and  as  for  those  who  are 
not  obliged  to  labor,  by  the  condition  in  which  they  are 
born,  they  are  more  miserable  than  the  rest  of  mankind 
unless  they  indulge  themselves  in  that  voluntary  labor 
which  goes  by  the  name  of  exercise. 

My  friend  Sir  Eoger  has  been  an  indefatigable  man  in 
business  of  this  kind,  and  has  hung  several  parts  of  his 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  203 

house  with  the  trophies  of  his  former  labors.  The  walls 
of  his  great  hall  are  covered  with  the  horns  of  several 
kinds  of  deer  that  he  has  killed  in  the  chase,  which  he 
thinks  the  most  valuable  furniture  of  his  house,  as  they 
afford  him  frequent  topics  of  discourse,  and  show  that  he 
has  not  been  idle.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  is  a  large 
otter's  skin  stuffed  with  hay,  which  his  mother  ordered 
to  be  hung  up  in  that  manner,  and  the  knight  looks  upon 
with  great  satisfaction,  because  it  seems  he  was  but  nine 
years  old  when  his  dog  killed  himo  A  little  room  ad- 
joining to  the  hall  is  a  kind  of  arsenal  filled  with  guns 
of  several  sizes  and  inventions,  with  which  the  knight 
has  made  great  havoc  in  the  woods,  and  destroyed  many 
thousands  of  pheasants,  partridges,  and  woodcocks.  His 
stable  doors  are  patched  with  noses  that  belonged  to  foxes 
of  the  nighf  s  own  hunting  dowHo  Sir  Roger  showed  me 
one  of  them  that  for  distinction  sake  has  a  brass  nail 
struck  through  it,  which  cost  him  fifteen  hours'  riding, 
carried  him  through  half  a  dozen  counties,  killed  him  a 
brace  of  geldings,  and  lost  above  half  his  dogSo  This  the 
knight  looks  upon  as  one  of  the  greatest  exploits  of  his 
life.  The  perverse  widow,  whom  I  have  given  some  ac- 
count of,  was  the  death  of  several  foxes;  for  Sir  Eoger 
has  told  me  that  in  the  course  of  his  amours  he  patched 
the  western  door  of  his  stable.  Whenever  the  widow  was 
cruel,  the  foxes  were  sure  to  pay  for  it.  In  proportion 
as  his  passion  for  the  widow  abated,  and  old  age  came  on, 
he  left  off  fox-hunting;  but  a  hare  is  not  yet  safe  that 
sits  within  ten  miles  of  his  house. 

There  is  no  kind  of  exercise  which  I  would  so  recom- 
mend to  my  readers  of  both  sexes  as  this  of  riding,  as 
there  is  none  which  so  much  conduces  to  health,  and  is 
every  way  accommodated  to  the  body,  according  to  the 
idea  which  I  have  given  of  it.  Dr.  Sydenham  is  very  lav- 
ish in  its  praises;  and  if  the  English  reader  will  see  the 
mechanical  effects  of  it  described  at  length,  he  may  find 
them  in  a  book  published  not  many  years  since,  under  the 
title  of  the  Medicina  Gymnastica, 


204  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Eor  my  own  part,  wlien  I  am  in  town,  for  want  of  these 
opportunities,  I  exercise  myself  an  hour  every  morning 
upon  a  dumb  bell  that  is  placed  in  a  comer  of  my  room, 
and  pleases  me  the  more  because  it  does  everything  I  re- 
quire of  it  in  the  most  profound  silence.  My  landlady 
and  her  daughters  are  so  well  acquainted  with  my  hours 
of  exercise  that  they  never  come  into  my  room  to  disturb 
me  whilst  I  am  ringing. 

When  I  was  some  years  younger  than  I  am  at  present, 
I  used  to  employ  myseK  in  a  more  laborious  diversion, 
which  I  learned  from  a  Latin  treatise  of  exercises  that 
is  written  with  great  erudition.  It  is  there  called  the 
cKLOfjtaxiay  or  the  fighting  with  a  man's  own  shadow, 
and  consists  in  the  brandishing  of  two  short  sticks 
grasped  in  each  hand,  and  loaded  with  plugs  of  lead  at 
either  end.  This  opens  the  chest,  exercises  the  limbs,  and 
gives  a  man  all  the  pleasure  of  boxing,  without  the  blows. 
I  could  wish  tEat  several  learned  men  would  lay  out  that 
time  which  they  employ  in  controversies  and  disputes 
about  nothing,  in  this  method  of  fighting  with  their  own 
shadows.  It  might  conduce  very  much  to  evaporate  the 
spleen,  which  makes  them  uneasy  to  the  public  as  well 
as  to  themselves. 

To  conclude,  as  I  am  a  compound  of  soul  and  body,  I 
consider  myself  as  obliged  to  a  double  scheme  of  duties, 
and  I  think  I  have  not  fulfilled  the  business  of  the  day 
when  I  do  not  thus  employ  the  one  in  labor  and  exer- 
cise, as  well  as  the  other  in  study  and  contemplation. 

L. 

[Spectator  No.  116.    FRroAY,  July  13,  1711.      Addison.] 

^Vocat  ingenti  clamore  Cithaeron, 

Taygetique  canes .* 

— Vkbgil. 

Those  who  have  searched  into  human  nature,  observe 
that  nothing  so  much  shows  the  nobleness  of  the  soul  as 

i««The  echoing  hills  and  chiding  hounds  invite." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  205 

that  its  felicity  consists  in  action.  Every  man  has  such 
an  active  principle  in  him  that  he  will  find  out  something 
to  employ  himself  upon,  in  whatever  place  or  state  of  life 
he  is  posted.  I  have  heard  of  a  gentleman  who  was  under 
close  confinement  in  the  Bastile  seven  years ;  during  which 
time  he  amused  himself  in  scattering  a  few  small  pins 
about  his  chamber,  gathering  them  up  again,  and  plac- 
ing them  in  different  figures  on  the  arm  of  a  great  chair. 
He  often  told  his  friends  afterward,  that  unless  he  had 
found  out  this  piece  of  exercise,  he  verily  believed  he 
should  have  lost  his  senses. 

After  what  has  been  said,  I  need  not  inform  my  readers 
that  Sir  Eoger,  with  whose  character  I  hope  they  are  at 
present  pretty  well  acquainted,  has  in  his  youth  gone 
through  the  whole  course  of  those  rural  diversions  which 
the  country  abounds  in,  and  which  seem  to  be  extremely 
well  suited  to  that  laborious  industry  a  man  may  ob- 
serve here  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  in  towns  and 
cities.  I  have  before  hinted  at  some  of  my  friend's  ex- 
ploits: he  has  in  his  youthful  days  taken  forty  coveys 
of  partridges  in  a  season,  and  tired  many  a  salmon  with 
a  line  consisting  but  of  a  single  hair.  The  constant 
thanks  and  good  wishes  of  the  neighborhood  always  at- 
tended him  on  account  of  his  remarkable  enmity  toward 
foxes,  having  destroyed  more  of  those  vermin  in  one  year 
than  it  was  thought  the  whole  country  could  have  pro- 
duced. Indeed,  the  knight  does  not  scruple  to  own, 
among  his  most  intimate  friends,  that  in  order  to  estab- 
lish his  reputation  this  way,  he  has  secretly  sent  for  great 
numbers  of  them  out  of  other  counties,  which  he  used  to 
turn  loose  about  the  country  at  night,  that  he  might 
the  better  signalize  himself  in  their  destruction  the  next 
day.  His  hunting  horses  were  the  finest  and  best  man- 
aged in  all  these  parts:  his  tenants  are  still  full  of  the 
praises  of  a  gray  stone-horse  that  unhappily  staked  him- 
self several  years  since,  and  was  buried  with  great  so- 
lemnity in  the  orchard. 

Sir  Roger,  being  at  present  too  old  for  fox-hunting, 


206  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

to  keep  himself  in  action  has  disposed  of  his  beagles  and 
got  a  pack  of  stop-hounds.  What  these  want  in  speed 
he  endeavors  to  make  amends  for  by  the  deepness  of  their 
mouths  and  the  variety  of  their  notes,  which  are  suited 
in  such  manner  to  each  other  that  the  whole  cry  makes 
up  a  complete  concert.  He  is  so  nice  in  this  particular 
that  a  gentleman  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  of  civility,  but  de- 
sired him  to  tell  his  master  that  the  dog  he  had  sent  was 
indeed  a  most  excellent  bass,  but  that  at  present  he  only 
wanted  a  counter-tenor.  Could  I  believe  my  friend  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  flewed,  so  sanded,  and  their  heads  are  hung 
With   ears  that   sweep    away   the   morning   dew: 
Crook-kneed  and  dew-lapped  like  Thessalian  bulls; 
Slow  in  pursuit,  but  matched  in  mouths,  like  bells, 
Each  under  each.     A  cry  more  tuneable 
Was  never  hollaed  to,  nor  cheered  with  horn." 

Sir  Roger  is  so  keen  at  this  sport  that  he  has  been  out 
almost  every  day  since  I  came  down;  and  upon  the  chap- 
lain's offering  to  lend  me  his  easy  pad,  I  was  prevailed  on 
yesterday  morning  to  make  one  of  the  company.  I  was 
extremely  pleased,  as  we  rid  along,  to  observe  the  general 
benevolence  of  all  the  neighborhood  toward  my  friend. 
The  farmers'  sons  thought  themselves  happy  if  they  could 
open  a  gate  for  the  good  old  knight  as  he  passed  by ;  which 
he  generally  requited  with  a  nod  or  a  smile,  and  a  kind 
inquiry  after  their  fathers  and  uncles. 

After  we  had  rid  about  a  mile  from  home,  we  came 
upon  a  large  heath,  and  the  sportsmen  began  to  beat. 
They  had  done  so  for  some  time,  when,  as  I  was  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  I  saw  a  hare 
pop  out  from  a  small  furze-brake  almost  under  my  horse's 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  207 

feet.  I  marked  the  way  she  took,  which  I  endeavored  to 
make  the  company  sensible  of  by  extending  my  arm;  but 
to  no  purpose,  till  Sir  Eoger,  who  knows  that  none  of  my 
extraordinary  motions  are  insignificant,  rode  up  to  me, 
and  asked  me  if  puss  was  gone  that  way.  Upon  my  an- 
swering "Yes,''  he  immediately  called  in  the  dogs  and  put 
them  upon  the  scent.  As  they  were  going  off,  I  heard 
one  of  the  country  fellows  muttering  to  his  companion  that 
'twas  a  wonder  they  had  not  lost  all  their  sport,  for  want 
of  the  silent  gentleman's  crying  "Stole  away!" 

This,  with  my  aversion  to  leaping  hedges,  made  me 
withdraw  to  a  rising  ground,  from  whence  I  could  have 
the  picture  of  the  whole  chase,  without  the  fatigue  of 
keeping  in  with  the  hounds.  The  hare  immediately  threw 
them  above  a  mile  behind  her;  but  I  was  pleased  to  find 
that  instead  of  running  straight  forward,  or,  in  hunter's 
language,  "flying  the  country,"  as  I  was  afraid  she  might 
have  done,  she  wheeled  about,  and  described  a  sort  of  cir- 
cle round  the  hill  where  I  had  taken  my  station,  in  such 
manner  as  gave  me  a  very  distinct  view  of  the  sport.  I 
could  see  her  first  pass  by,  and  the  dogs  some  time  after- 
ward unraveling  the  whole  track  she  had  made,  and  fol- 
lowing her  through  all  her  doubles.  I  was  at  the  same 
time  delighted  in  observing  that  deference  which  the 
rest  of  the  pack  paid  to  each  particular  hound,  accord- 
ing to  the  character  he  had  acquired  amongst  them:  if 
they  were  at  fault,  and  an  old  hound  of  reputation  opened 
but  once,  he  was  immediately  followed  by  the  whole  cry; 
while  a  raw  dog,  or  one  who  was  a  noted  liar,  might  have 
yelped  his  heart  out,  without  being  taken  notice  of. 

The  hare  now,  after  having  squatted  two  or  three  times, 
and  been  put  up  again  as  often,  came  still  nearer  to  the 
place  where  she  was  at  first  started.  The  dogs  pursued 
her,  and  these  were  followed  by  the  jolly  knight,  who  rode 
upon  a  white  gelding,  encompassed  by  his  tenants  and 
servants,  and  cheering  his  hounds  with  all  the  gaiety  of 
five-and-twenty.  One  of  the  sportsmen  rode  up  to  me, 
and  told  me  that  he  was  sure  the  chase  was  almost  at  an 


208  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

end,  because  the  old  dogs,  which  had  hitherto  lain  behind, 
now  headed  the  pack.  The  fellow  was  in  the  right.  Our 
hare  took  a  large  field  just  under  us,  followed  by  the  full 
cry  ^^in  view.''  I  must  confess  the  brightness  of  the 
weather,  the  cheerfulness  of  everything  around  me,  the 
chiding  of  the  hounds,  which  was  returned  upon  us  in 
a  double  echo  from  two  neighboring  hills,  with  the  hol- 
lowing of  the  sportsmen,  and  the  sounding  of  the  horn, 
lifted  my  spirits  into  a  most  lively  pleasure,  which  I  freely 
indulged  because  I  was  sure  it  was  innocent.  If  I  was 
under  any  concern,  it  was  on  the  account  of  the  poor  hare, 
that  was  now  quite  spent,  and  almost  within  reach  of 
her  enemies;  when  the  huntsman,  getting  forward,  threw 
down  his  pole  before  the  dogs.  They  were  now  within 
eight  yards  of  that  game  which  they  had  been  pursuing 
for  almost  as  many  hours;  yet,  on  the  signal  before  men- 
tioned, they  all  made  a  sudden  stand,  and  though  they 
continued  opening  as  much  as  before,  durst  not  once  at- 
tempt to  pass  beyond  the  pole.  At  the  same  time  Sir 
Koger  rode  forward,  and,  alighting,  took  up  the  hare  in 
Hs  arms,  which  he  soon  delivered  up  to  one  of  his  serv- 
ants with  an  order,  if  she  could  be  kept  alive,  to  let  her 
go  in  his  great  orchard,  where  it  seems  he  has  several  of 
these  prisoners  of  war,  who  live  together  in  a  very  com- 
fortable captivity.  I  was  highly  pleased  to  see  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  pack,  and  the  good-nature  of  the  knight, 
who  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to  murder  a  creature  that 
had  given  him  so  much  diversion. 

As  we  were  returning  home  I  remembered  that  Mon- 
sieur Pascal,  in  his  most  excellent  discourse  on  the  '^Mis- 
ery of  Man,"  tells  us  that  all  our  endeavors  after  great- 
ness proceed  from  nothing  but  a  desire  of  being  sur- 
rounded by  a  multitude  of  persons  and  affairs  that  may 
hinder  us  from  looking  into  ourselves,  which  is  a  view 
we  cannot  bear.  He  afterward  goes  on  to  show  that  our 
love  of  sports  comes  from  the  same  reason,  and  is  par- 
ticularly severe  upon  hunting.  "What,''  says  he,  "unless 
it  be  to  drown  thought,  ^an  make  men  throw  away  so 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  209 

much  time  and  pains  upon  a  silly  animal,  which  they 
might  buy  cheaper  in  the  market?"  The  foregoing  re- 
flection is  certainly  just  when  a  man  suffers  his  whole 
mind  to  be  drawn  into  his  sports,  and  altogether  loses 
himself  in  the  woods;  but  does  not  affect  those  who  pro- 
pose a  far  more  laudable  end  from  this  exercise, — I  mean, 
the  preservation  of  health,  and  keeping  all  the  organs  of 
the  soul  in  a  condition  to  execute  her  orders.  Had  that 
incomparable  person,  whom  I  last  quoted,  been  a  little 
more  indulgent  to  himself  on  this  point,  the  world  might 
probably  have  enjoyed  him  much  longer;  whereas  through 
too  great  an  application  to  his  studies  in  his  youth,  he 
contracted  that  ill  habit  of  body  which,  after  a  tedious 
sickness,  carried  him  off  in  the  fortieth  year  of  his  age; 
and  the  whole  history  we  have  of  his  life  till  that  time, 
is  but  one  continued  account  of  the  behavior  of  a  noble 
soul  struggling  under  innumerable  pains  and  distempers. 

For  my  own  part,  I  intend  to  hunt  twice  a  week  dur- 
ing my  stay  with  Sir  Eoger;  and  shall  prescribe  the  mod- 
erate use  of  this  exercise  to  all  my  country  friends,  as 
the  best  kind  of  physic  for  mending  a  bad  constitution 
and  preserving  a  good  one. 

I  cannot  do  this  better  than  in  the  following  lines  out 
of  Mr.  Dry  den: 

"The  first  physicians  by  debauch  were  made; 
Excess  began,  and  sloth  sustains  the  trade. 
By  chase  our  long-lived  fathers  earned  their  food; 
Toil  strung  the  nerves,  and  purified  the  blood; 
But  we  their  sons,  a  pampered  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» 


210  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

[Spectator  No.  117.     Saturday,  July  14,  1711. 
Addison.] 

Ipsi  sibi  somnia  fingunt.* 

— ^Veegil. 

There  are  some  opinions  in  which  a  man  should  stand 
neuter,  without  engaging  his  assent  to  one  side  or  the 
other.  Such  a  hovering  faith  as  this,  which  refuses  to 
settle  upon  any  determination,  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
a  mind  that  is  careful  to  avoid  errors  and  prepossessions. 
When  the  arguments  press  equally  on  both  sides  in  mat- 
ters that  are  indifferent  to  us,  the  safest  method  is  to 
give  up  ourselves  to  neither. 

It  is  with  this  temper  of  mind  that  I  consider  the  sub- 
ject of  witchcraft.  When  I  hear  the  relations  that  are 
made  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  not  only  from  Norway 
and  Lapland,  from  the  East  and  West  Indies,  but  from 
every  particular  nation  in  Europe,  I  cannot  forbear  think- 
ing that  there  is  such  an  intercourse  and  commerce  with 
evil  spirits  as  that  which  we  express  by  the  name  of  witch- 
craft. But  when  I  consider  that  the  ignorant  and  credu- 
lous parts  of  the  world  abound  most  in  these  relations, 
and  that  the  persons  among  us  who  are  supposed  to 
engage  in  such  an  infernal  commerce  are  people  of  a  weak 
understanding  and  a  crazed  imagination,  and  at  the  same 
time  reflect  upon  the  many  impostures  and  delusions  of 
this  nature  that  have  been  detected  in  all  ages,  I  endeavor 
to  suspend  my  belief  till  I  hear  more  certain  accounts  than 
any  which  have  yet  come  to  my  knowledge.  In  short, 
when  I  consider  the  question  whether  there  are  such  per- 
sons in  the  world  as  those  we  call  witches,  my  mind  is 
divided  between  the  two  opposite  opinions;  or  rather  (to 
speak  my  thoughts  freely),  I  believe  in  general  that  there 
is,  and  has  been,  such  a  thing  as  witchcraft;  but  at  the 
same  time  can  give  no  credit  to  any  particular  instance 

of  it. 

'  — -i— — ^^^ 

^  "With  voluntary  dreams  they  cheat  their  minds." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  211 

I  airi  engaged  in  this  speculation  by  some  occurrences 
that  I  met  with  yesterday,  which  I  shall  give  my  reader 
an  account  of  at  large.  As  I  was  walking  with  my  friend 
Sir  Eoger  by  the  side  of  one  of  his  woods,  an  old  woman 
applied  herself  to  me  for  my  charity.  Her  dress  and 
figure  put  me  in  mind  of  the  following  description  in 
Otway : 

•*In  a  close  lane  as  I  pursued  my  journey, 
I  spied  a  wrinkled  hag,  with  age  grown  double, 
Picking  dry  sticks,  and  mumbling  to  herself. 
Her  eyes  with  scalding  rheum  were  galled  and  red; 
Cold  palsy  shook  her  head;  her  hands  seemed  withered; 
And  on  her  crooked  shoulders  had  she  wrapped 
The  tattered  remnants  of  an  old  striped  hanging. 
Which  served  to  keep  her  carcase  from  the  cold: 
So  there  was  nothing  of  a  piece  about  her. 
Her  lower  weeds  were  all  o'er  coarsely  patched 
With  different  colored  rags — ^black,  red,  white,  yellow — 
And  seemed  to  speak  variety  of  wretchedness." 

As  I  was  musing  on  this  description,  and  comparing 
it  with  the  object  before  me,  the  knight  told  me  that  this 
very  old  woman  had  the  reputation  of  a  witch  all  over 
the  country,  that  her  lips  were  observed  to  be  always  in 
motion,  and  that  there  was  not  a  switch  about  her  house 
which  her  neighbors  did  not  believe  had  carried  her 
several  hundreds  of  miles.  If  she  chanced  to  stumble, 
they  always  found  sticks  or  straws  that  lay  in  the  figure 
of  a  cross  before  her.  If  she  made  any  mistake  at  church, 
and  cried  "Amen"  in  a  wrong  place,  they  never  failed 
to  conclude  that  she  was  saying  her  prayers  backward. 
There  was  not  a  maid  in  the  parish  that  would  take  a 
pin  of  her,  though  she  would  offer  a  bag  of  money  with 
it.  She  goes  by  the  name  of  Moll  White,  and  has  made 
the  country  ring  with  several  imaginary  exploits  which 
are  palmed  upon  her.  If  the  dairy-maid  does  not  make 
her  butter  come  so  soon  as  she  should  have  it,  Moll 
White  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  chum.    If  a  horse  sweats 


212  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

in  the  stable,  Moll  White  has  been  upon  his  back.  If  a 
hare  makes  an  unexpected  escape  from  the  hounds,  the 
huntsman  curses  Moll  White.  "Nay,"  says  Sir  Roger,  'T. 
have  known  the  master  of  the  pack,  upon  such  an  occa- 
sion, send  one  of  his  servants  to  see  if  Moll  White  had 
been  out  that  morning." 

This  account  raised  my  curiosity  so  far  that  I  begged 
my  friend  Sir  Eoger  to  go  with  me  into  her  hovel,  which 
stood  in  a  solitary  corner  under  the  side  of  the  wood. 
Upon  our  first  entering,  Sir  Roger  winked  to  me,  and 
pointed  at  something  that  stood  behind  the  door,  which, 
upon  looking  that  way,  I  found  to  be  an  old  broomstaff. 
At  the  same  time  he  whispered  me  in  the  ear  to  take  no- 
tice of  a  tabby  cat  that  sat  in  the  chimney-comer,  which, 
as  the  old  knight  told  me,  lay  under  as  bad  a  report  as 
Moll  White  herself;  for  besides  that  Moll  is  said  often  to 
accompany  her  in  the  same  shape,  the  cat  is  reported  to 
have  spoken  twice  or  thrice  in  her  life,  and  to  have 
played  several  pranks  above  the  capacity  of  an  ordinary 
eat. 

I  was  secretly  concerned  to  see  human  nature  in  so 
much  wretchedness  and  disgrace,  but  at  the  same  time 
could  not  forbear  smiling  to  hear  Sir  Koger,  who  is  a 
little  puzzled  about  the  old  woman,  advising  her,  as  a 
justice  of  peace,  to  avoid  all  communication  with  the 
devil,  and  never  to  hurt  any  of  her  neighbor's  cattle.  We 
concluded  our  visit  with  a  bounty,  which  was  very  ac- 
ceptable. 

In  our  return  home.  Sir  Eoger  told  me  that  old  Moll 
had  been  often  brought  before  him  for  making  children 
spit  pins,  and  giving  maids  the  nightmare;  and  that  the 
country  people  would  be  tossing  her  into  a  pond  and  try- 
ing experiments  with  her  every  day,  if  it  was  not  for  him 
and  his  chaplain. 

I  have  since  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  Sir  Koger  was 
several  times  staggered  with  the  reports  that  had  been 
brought  him  concerning  this  old  woman,  and  would  fre- 
quently have  bound  her  over  to  the  county  sessions  had 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  213 

not  his  chaplain  with  much  ado  persuaded  him  to  the 
contrary. 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  in  this  account  be- 
cause I  hear  there  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,  she  is  generally 
turned  into  a  witch,  and  fills  the  whole  country  with  ex- 
travagant fancies,  imaginary  distempers,  and  terrifying 
dreams.  In  the  meantime  the  poor  wretch  that  is  the 
innocent  occasion  of  so  many  evils  begins  to  be  frighted 
at  herself,  and  sometimes  confesses  secret  commerce  and 
familiarities  that  her  imagination  forms  in  a  delirious 
old  age.  This  frequently  cuts  off  charity  from  the  great- 
est objects  of  compassion,  and  inspires  people  with  a 
malevolence  toward  those  poor,  decrepit  parts  of  our 
species  in  whom  human  nature  is  defaced  by  infirmity 
and  dotage.  L. 

[Spectator  No.  118.    Monday,  July  16,  1711.    Steele.] 

Haeret  lateri  lethalis  arundo.^ 

— ^Vergil. 

This  agreeable  seat  is  surrounded  with  so  many  pleas- 
ing walks  which  are  struck  out  of  a  wood  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  house  stands,  that  one  can  hardly  ever  be 
weary  of  rambling  from  one  labyrinth  of  delight  to  an- 
other. To  one  used  to  live  in  a  city,  the  charms  of  the 
country  are  so  exquisite  that  the  mind  is  lost  in  a  certain 
transport  which  raises  us  above  ordinary  life,  and  is  yet 
not  strong  enough  to  be  inconsistent  with  tranquillity. 
This  state  of  mind  was  I  in,  ravished  with  the  murmur  of 
waters,  the  whisper  of  breezes,  the  singing  of  birds;  and 
whether  I  looked  up  to  the  heavens,  down  on  the  earth, 
or  turned  to  the  prospects  around  me,  still  struck  with 
new  sense  of  pleasure;  when  I  found  by  the  voice  of  my 
friend,  who  walked  by  me,  that  we  had  insensibly  strolled 

^  "The  fatal  dart 
Sticks  in   his   side,  and  rankles  in  his  heart." — Drydbn. 


214  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

into  the  grove  sacred  to  the  widow.  "This  woman,"  says 
he,  "is  of  all  others  the  most  unintelligible;  she  either 
designs  to  marry,  or  she  does  not.  What  is  the  most 
perplexing  of  all  is,  that  she  doth  not  either  say  to  her 
lovers  she  has  any  resolution  against  that  condition  of 
life  in  general,  or  that  she  banishes  them;  but,  conscious 
of  her  own  merit,  she  permits  their  addresses  without  fear 
of  any  ill  consequence,  or  want  of  respect,  from  their 
rage  or  despair.  She  has  that  in  her  aspect  against  which 
it  is  impossible  to  offend.  A  man  whose  thoughts  are 
constantly  bent  upon  so  agreeable  an  object  must  be 
excused  if  the  ordinary  occurrences  in  conversation  are 
below  his  attention.  I  call  her,  indeed,  perverse,  but,  alas  I 
why  do  I  call  her  so?  Because  her  superior  merit  is 
such  that  I  cannot  approach  her  without  awe,  that  my 
heart  is  checked  by  too  much  esteem ;  I  am  angry  that  her 
charms  are  not  more  accessible,  that  I  am  more  inclined 
to  worship  than  salute  her;  how  often  have  I  wished  her 
unhappy  that  I  might  have  an  opportunity  of  serving  her  ? 
and  how  often  troubled  in  that  very  imagination,  at 
giving  her  the  pain  of  being  obliged?  Well,  I  have  led 
a  miserable  life  in  secret  upon  her  account;  but  fancy 
she  would  have  condescended  to  have  some  regard  for 
me  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  watchful  animal,  her 
confidante. 

"Of  all  persons  under  the  sun,"  continued  he,  calling 
me  by  my  name,  "be  sure  to  set  a  mark  upon  confidantes ; 
they  are  of  all  people  the  most  impertinent.  What  is 
most  pleasant  to  observe  in  them  is  that  they  assume  to 
themselves  the  merit  of  the  persons  whom  they  have  in 
their  custody.  Orestilla  is  a  great  fortune,  and  in  won- 
derful danger  of  surprises,  therefore  full  of  suspicions  of 
the  least  indifferent  thing,  particularly  careful  of  new  ac- 
quaintance, and  of  growing  too  familiar  with  the  old. 
Themista,  her  favorite  woman,  is  every  whit  as  careful 
of  whom  she  speaks  to  and  what  she  says.  Let  the  ward 
be  a  beauty,  her  confidante  shall  treat  you  with  an  air  of 
distance;  let  her  be  a  fortune,  and  she  assumes  the  suspi- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  215 

cious  behavior  of  her  friend  and  patroness.  Thus  it  is 
that  very  many  of  our  unmarried  women  of  distinction 
are  to  all  intents  and  purposes  married,  except  the 
consideration  of  different  sexes.  They  are  directly  under 
the  conduct  of  their  whisperer,  and  think  they  are  in  a 
state  of  freedom  while  they  can  prate  with  one  of  these 
attendants  of  all  men  in  general  and  still  avoid  the  man 
they  most  like.  You  do  not  see  one  heiress  in  a  hundred 
whose  fate  does  not  turn  upon  this  circumstance  of  choos- 
ing a  confidante.  Thus  it  is  that  the  lady  is  addressed 
to,  presented,  and  flattered,  only  by  proxy,  in  her  woman. 

In  my  case,  how  is  it  possible  that " 

Sir  Roger  was  proceeding  in  his  harangue,  when  we 
heard  the  voice  of  one  speaking  very  importunately,  and 
repeating  these  words,  "What,  not  one  smile?''  We  fol- 
lowed the  sound  till  we  came  to  a  close  thicket,  on  the 
other  side  of  which  we  saw  a  young  woman  sitting  as  it 
were  in  a  personated  suUenness  just  over  a  transparent 
fountain.  Opposite  to  her  stood  Mr.  William,  Sir  Roger's 
master  of  the  game.  The  knight  whispered  me,  "Hist, 
these  are  lovers."  The  huntsman,  looking  earnestly  at 
the  shadow  of  the  young  maiden  in  the  stream :  "O  thou 
dear  picture,  if  thou  couldst  remain  there  in  the  absence 
of  that  fair  creature,  whom  you  represent  in  the  water, 
how  willingly  could  I  stand  here  satisfied  forever,  without 
troubling  my  deaj*  Betty  herself  with  any  mention  of  her 
unfortunate  William,  whom  she  is  angry  with;  but  alas  I' 
when  she  pleases  to  be  gone,  thou  wilt  also  vanish — yet 
let  me  talk  to  thee  while  thou  dost  stay.  Tell  my  dearest 
Betty  thou  dost  not  more  depend  upon  her  than  does  her 
William;  her  absence  will  make  away  with  me  as  well 
as  thee.  If  she  offers  to  remove  thee,  I'll  jump  into  these 
waves  to  lay  hold  on  thee;  herself,  her  own  dear  person, 
I  must  never  embrace  again.  Still  do  you  hear  me  with- 
out one  smile? — it  is  too  much  to  bear."  He  had  no 
sooner  spoke  these  words  but  he  made  an  offer  of  throwing 
himself  into  the  water;  at  which  his  mistress  started  up, 
and  at  the  next  instant  he  jumped  across  the  fountain 


216  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

and  met  her  in  an  embrace.  She,  half  recovering  from 
her  fright,  said  in  the  most  charming  voice  imaginable, 
and  with  a  tone  of  complaint,  "I  thought  how  well  you 
would  drown  yourself.  No,  no,  you  won't  drown  your- 
self till  you  have  taken  your  leave  of  Susan  HoUiday ." 
The  huntsman,  with  a  tenderness  that  spoke  of  the  most 
passionate  love,  and  with  his  cheek  close  to  hers,  whis- 
pered the  softest  vows  of  fidelity  in  her  ear,  and  cried, 
"Don't,  my  dear,  believe  a  word  Kate  Willow  says ;  she  is 
spiteful  and  makes  stories,  because  she  loves  to  hear  me 
talk  to  herself  for  your  sake." 

"Look  you  there,"  quoth  Sir  Eoger,  "do  you  see  there, 
all  mischief  comes  from  confidantes!  But  let  us  not  in- 
terrupt 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  the  wedding.  Kate 
Willow  is  a  witty,  mischievous  wench  in  the  neighborhood, 
who  was  a  beauty;  and  makes  me  hope  I  shall  see  the 
perverse  widow  in  her  condition.  She  was  so  flippant 
with  her  answers  to  all  the  honest  fellows  that  came  near 
her,  and  so  very  vain  of  her  beauty,  that  she  has  valued 
herself  upon  her  charms  till  they  are  ceased.  She  there- 
fore now  makes  it  her  business  to  prevent  other  young 
women  from  being  more  discreet  than  she  was  herself; 
however,  the  saucy  thing  said  the  other  day  well  enough, 
^Sir  Roger  and  I  must  make  a  match,  for  we  are  both 
despised  by  those  we  loved.'  The  hussy  has  a  great  deal 
of  power  wherever  she  comes,  and  has  her  share  of  cun- 
ning. 

"However,  when  I  reflect  upon  this  woman,  I  do  not 
know  whether  in  the  main  I  am  the  worse  for  having  loved 
her ;  whenever  she  is  recalled  to  my  imagination  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  this  dear  image  in  my  heart  owing,  that 
I  am  apt  to  relent,  that  I  easily  forgive,  and  that  many  de- 
sirable things  are  grown  into  my  temper  which  I  should 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  217 

not  have  arrived  at  by  better  motives  than  the  thought  of 
being  one  day  hers.  I  am  pretty  well  satisfied  such  a 
passion  as  I  have  had  is  never  well  cured;  and  between 
you  and  me,  I  am  often  apt  to  imagine  it  has  had  some 
whimsical  effect  upon  my  brain.  For  I  frequently  find 
that  in  my  most  serious  discourse  I  let  fall  some  comical 
familiarity  of  speech  or  odd  phrase  that  makes  the  com- 
pany laugh;  however,  I  cannot  but  allow  she  is  a  most 
excellent  woman.  When  she  is  in  the  country,  I  warrant 
she  does  not  run  into  dairies,  but  reads  upon  the  nature 
of  plants ;  but  has  a  glass  hive,  and  comes  into  the  garden 
out  of  books  to  see  them  work,  and  observe  the  policies  of 
their  commonwealth.  She  understands  everything.  I'd 
give  ten  pounds  to  hear  her  argue  with  my  friend  Sir 
Andrew  Freeport  about  trade.  No,  no;  for  all  she  looks 
so  innocent,  as  it  were,  take  my  word  for  it  she  is  no 
fool."  T. 


[Spectator  No.  119.    Tuesday,  July  1Y,  lYll.    Addison.] 

Urbem  quam  dicunt  Romam,  Meliboee,  putavi 

Stultus  ego  huic  nostrae  similem .^ 

— Vergil. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  reflections  which  arise  in  a 
man  who  changes  the  city  for  the  country,  are  upon  the 
different  manners  of  the  people  whom  he  meets  with  in 
those  two  different  scenes  of  life.  By  manners  I  do  not 
mean  morals,  but  behavior  and  good  breeding  as  they 
show  themselves  in  the  town  and  in  the  country. 

And  here,  in  the  first  place,  I  must  observe  a  very  great 
revolution  that  has  happened  in  this  article  of  good 
breeding.  Several  obliging  deferences,  condescensions, 
and  submissions,  with  many  outward  forms  and  cere- 
monies that  accompany  them,  were  first  of  all  brought  up 

1  "The  city  men   caU  Rome,  unskilful  clown, 
I  thought  resembled  this  our  humble  town." 

— Wabton. 


218  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

among  the  politer  part  of  mankind,  who  lived  in  courts 
and  cities,  and  distinguished  themselves  from  the  rustic 
part  of  the  species,  who  on  all  occasions  acted  bluntly 
and  naturally,  by  such  a  mutual  complaisance  and  inter- 
course of  civilities.  These  forms  of  conversation  by  de- 
grees multiplied  and  grew  troublesome;  the  modish  world 
found  too  great  a  constraint  in  them,  and  have  therefore 
thrown  most  of  them  aside.  Conversation  was  so  encum- 
bered with  show  and  ceremony  that  it  stood  in  need  of  a 
reformation  to  retrench  its  superfluities  and  restore  it  to 
its  natural  good  sense  and  beauty.  At  present,  therefore, 
an  unconstrained  carriage  and  a  certain  openness  of 
behavior  are  the  height  of  good  breeding.  The  fashion- 
able world  is  grown  free  and  easy;  our  manners  sit  more 
loose  upon  us.  Nothing  is  so  modish  as  an  agreeable 
negligence.  In  a  word,  good  breeding  shows  itself  most 
where,  to  an  ordinary  eye,  it  appears  the  least. 

If  after  this  we  look  on  the  people  of  mode  in  the 
country,  we  find  in  them  the  manners  of  the  last  age. 
They  have  no  sooner  fetched  themselves  up  to  the  fashion 
of  the  polite  world  but  the  town  has  dropped  them,  and 
are  nearer  to  the  first  state  of  nature  than  to  those  re- 
finements which  formerly  reigned  in  the  court  and  still 
prevail  in  the  country.  One  may  now  know  a  man  that 
never  conversed  in  the  world  by  his  excess  of  good  breed- 
ing. A  polite  country  squire  shall  make  you  as  many 
bows  in  half  an  hour  as  would  serve  a  courtier  for  a 
week.  There  is  infinitely  more  to  do  about  place  and 
precedency  in  a  meeting  of  justices'  wives  than  in  an 
assembly  of  duchesses. 

This  rural  politeness  is  very  troublesome  to  a  man  of 
my  temper,  who  generally  take  the  chair  that  is  next  me, 
and  walk  first  or  last,  in  the  front  or  in  the  rear,  as 
chance  directs.  I  have  known  my  friend  Sir  Roger's  din- 
ner almost  cold  before  the  company  could  adjust  the  cere- 
monial, and  be  prevailed  upon  to  sit  down;  and  have 
heartily  pitied  my  old  friend,  when  I  have  seen  him  forced 
to  pick  and  cull  his  guests  as  they  sat  at  the  several  parts 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  219 

of  his  table,  that  he  might  drink  their  healths  according 
to  their  respective  ranks  and  qualities.  Honest  Will 
Wimble,  who  I  should  have  thought  had  been  altogether 
uninfected  with  ceremony,  gives  me  abundance  of  trouble 
in  this  particular.  Though  he  has  been  fishing  all  the 
morning,  he  will  not  help  himself  at  dinner  till  I  am 
served.  When  we  are  going  out  of  the  hall,  he  runs 
behind  me;  and  last  night,  as  we  were  walking  in  the 
fields,  stopped  short  at  a  stile  till  I  came  up  to  it,  and 
upon  making  signs  to  him  to  get  over,  told  me,  with  a 
serious  smile  that,  sure,  I  believed  they  had  no  manners 
in  the  country. 

There  has  happened  another  revolution  in  the  point  of 
good  breeding,  which  related  to  the  conversation  among 
men  of  mode,  and  which  I  cannot  but  look  upon  as  very 
extraordinary.  It  was  certainly  one  of  the  first  distinc- 
tions of  a  well-bred  man  to  express  everything  that  had 
the  most  remote  appearance  of  being  obscene  in  modest 
terms  and  distant  phrases;  whilst  the  clown,  who  had  no 
such  delicacy  of  conception  and  expression,  clothed  his 
ideas  in  those  plain,  homely  terms  that  are  the  most 
obvious  and  natural.  This  kind  of  good  manners  was 
perhaps  carried  to  an  excess,  so  as  to  make  conversation 
too  stiff,  formal,  and  precise;  for  which  reason,  as  hy- 
pocrisy in  one  age  is  generally  succeeded  by  atheism  in 
another,  conversation  is  in  a  great  measure  relapsed  into 
the  first  extreme;  so  that  at  present  several  of  our  men 
of  the  town,  and  particularly  those  who  have  been  polished 
in  France,  make  use  of  the  most  coarse,  uncivilized  words 
in  our  language,  and  utter  themselves  often  in  such  a 
manner  as  a  clown  would  blush  to  hear. 

This  infamous  piece  of  good  breeding  which  reigns 
among  the  coxcombs  of  the  town  has  not  yet  made  its 
way  into  the  country;  and  as  it  is  impossible  for  such 
an  irrational  way  of  conversation  to  last  long  among  a 
people  that  make  any  profession  of  religion  or  show 
of  modesty,  if  the  country  gentlemen  get  into  it  they  will 
certainly  be  left  in  the  lurch.     Their  good  breeding  will 


220  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

come  too  late  to  them,  and  they  will  be  thought  a  parcel 
of  lewd  clowns,  while  they  fancy  themselves  talking  to- 
gether like  men  of  wit  and  pleasure. 

As  the  two  points  of  good  breeding  which  I  have  hither- 
to insisted  upon  regard  behavior  and  conversation,  there 
is  a  third  which  turns  upon  dress.  In  this,  too,  the  coun- 
try are  very  much  behindhand.  The  rural  beaus  are 
not  yet  got  out  of  the  fashion  that  took  place  at  the  time 
of  the  Revolution,  but  ride  about  the  country  in  red  coats 
and  laced  hats,  while  the  women  in  many  parts  are  still 
trying  to  outvie  one  another  in  the  height  of  their  head- 
dresses. 

But  a  friend  of  mine,  who  is  now  upon  the  western 
circuit,  having  promised  to  give  me  an  account  of  the 
several  modes  and  fashions  that  prevail  in  the  different 
parts  of  the  nation  through  which  he  passes,  I  shall  defer 
the  enlarging  upon  this  last  topic  till  I  have  received 
a  letter  from  him,  which  I  expect  every  post.  L. 

[Spectator    No.    120.      Wednesday,    July    18,    1711. 
Addison.] 

Equidem  credo,  quia  sit  divinitus  illis 

Ingenium .^ 

— Veegil. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  is  very  often  merry  with  me  upon 
my  passing  so  much  of  my  time  among  his  poultry.  He 
has  caught  me  twice  or  thrice  looking  after  a  bird's  nest, 
and  several  times  sitting  an  hour  or  two  together  near 
an  hen  and  chickens.  He  tells  me  he  believes  I  am  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  every  fowl  about  his  house;  calls 
such  a  particular  cock  my  favorite,  and  frequently  com- 
plains that  his  ducks  and  geese  have  more  of  my  company 
than  himself. 

I  must  confess  I  am  infinitely  delighted  with  those 
speculations  of  nature  which  are  to  be  made  in  a  country 

*  " 1  deem  their  breasts  inspired 

With  a  divine  sagacity." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  221 

life;  and  as  my  reading  has  very  much  lain  among  books 
of  natural  history,  I  cannot  forbear  recollecting  upon 
this  occasion  the  several  remarks  which  I  have  met  with 
in  authors,  and  comparing  them  with  what  falls  under 
my  own  observation, — the  arguments  for  Providence  drawn 
from  the  natural  history  of  animals  being,  in  my  opinion, 
demonstrative. 

The  make  of  every  kind  of  animal  is  different  from  that 
of  every  other  kind;  and  yet  there  is  not  the  least  turn 
in  the  muscles  or  twist  in  the  fibers  of  any  one,  which 
does  not  render  them  more  proper  for  that  particular 
animal's  way  of  life  than  any  other  cast  or  texture  of 
them  would  have  been.  .  .  . 

It  is  astonishing  to  consider  the  different  degrees  of 
care  that  descend  from  the  parent  to  the  young,  so  far 
as  is  absolutely  necessary  for  the  leaving  a  posterity. 
Some  creatures  cast  their  eggs  as  chance  directs  them, 
and  think  of  them  no  farther,  as  insects  and  several  kinds 
of  fish;  others,  of  a  nicer  frame,  find  out  proper  beds  to 
deposit  them  in,  and  there  leave  them,  as  the  serpent,  the 
crocodile,  and  ostrich;  others  hatch  their  eggs  and  tend 
the  birth  till  it  is  able  to  shift  for  itseK. 

What  can  we  call  the  principle  which  directs  every 
different  kind  of  bird  to  observe  a  particular  plan  in  the 
structure  of  its  nest,  and  directs  all  of  the  same  species 
to  work  after  the  same  model?  It  cannot  be  imitation; 
for  though  you  hatch  a  crow  under  a  hen,  and  never  let 
it  see  any  of  the  works  of  its  own  kind,  the  nest  it  makes 
shall  be  the  same,  to  the  laying  of  a  stick,  with  all  the 
other  nests  of  the  same  species.  It  cannot  be  reason ;  for 
were  animals  indued  with  it  to  as  great  a  degree  as  man, 
their  buildings  would  be  as  different  as  ours,  according 
to  the  different  conveniences  that  they  would  propose  to 
themselves. 

Is  it  not  remarkable  that  the  same  temper  of  weather 
which  raises  this  genial  warmth  in  animals,  should  cover 
the  trees  with  leaves,  and  the  fields  with  grass,  for  their 
security    and    concealment,    and    produce    such    infinite 


222  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

swarms  of  insects  for  the  support  and  sustenance  of  their 
respective  broods? 

Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  love  of  the  parent  should 
be  so  violent  while  it  lasts,  and  that  it  should  last  no 
longer  than  is  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  the  young  ? 
.  .  .  For  so  soon  as  the  wants  of  the  latter  cease,  the 
mother  withdraws  her  fondness,  and  leaves  them  to  pro- 
vide for  themselves;  and  what  is  a  very  remarkable  cir- 
cumstance in  this  part  of  instinct,  we  find  that  the  love 
of  the  parent  may  be  lengthened  out  beyond  its  usual  time, 
if  the  preservation  of  the  species  requires  it:  as  we  may 
see  in  birds  that  drive  away  their  young  as  soon  as  they 
are  able  to  get  their  livelihood,  but  continue  to  feed 
them  if  they  are  tied  to  the  nest,  or  confined  within  a 
cage,  or  by  any  other  means  appear  to  be  out  of  a  condi- 
tion of  supplying  their  own  necessities.  .  .  .  This  natural 
love  is  not  observed  in  animals  to  ascend  from  the  young 
to  the  parent,  which  is  not  at  all  necessary  for  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  species :  nor  indeed  in  reasonable  creatures 
does  it  rise  in  any  proportion,  as  it  spreads  itself  down- 
wards; for  in  all  family  affection  we  find  protection 
granted  and  favors  bestowed  are  greater  motives  to  love 
and  tenderness  than  safety,  benefits,  or  life  received. 

One  would  wonder  to  hear  skeptical  men  disputing  for 
the  reason  of  animals,  and  telling  us  it  is  only  our  pride 
and  prejudices  that  will  not  allow  them  the  use  of  that 
faculty. 

Keason  shows  itself  in  all  occurrences  of  life;  whereas 
the  brute  makes  no  discovery  of  such  a  talent  but  in  what 
immediately  regards  his  own  preservation  or  the  continu- 
ance of  his  species. 

Animals  in  their  generation  are  wiser  than  the  sons  of 
men,  but  their  wisdom  is  confined  to  a  few  particulars, 
and  lies  in  a  very  narrow  compass.  Take  a  brute  out  of 
his  instinct,  and  you  find  him  wholly  deprived  of  under- 
standing. To  use  an  instance  that  comes  often  under 
observation : 

With  what  caution  does  the  hen  provide  herself  a  nest 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  223 

in  places  unfrequented  and  free  from  noise  and  disturb- 
ance 1  When  she  has  laid  her  eggs  in  such  a  manner  that 
she  can  cover  them,  what  care  does  she  take  in  turning 
them  frequently,  that  all  parts  may  partake  of  the  vital 
warmth !  When  she  leaves  them,  to  provide  for  her  neces- 
sary sustenance,  how  punctually  does  she  return  before 
they  have  time  to  cool  and  become  incapable  of  producing 
an  animal!  In  the  summer  you  see  her  giving  herself 
greater  freedoms,  and  quitting  her  care  for  above  two 
hours  together ;  but  in  winter,  when  the  rigor  of  the  season 
would  chill  the  principles  of  life,  and  destroy  the  young 
one,  she  grows  more  assiduous  in  her  attendance,  and 
stays  away  but  half  the  time.  When  the  birth  approaches, 
with  how  much  nicety  and  attention  does  she  help  the 
chick  to  break  its  prison!  not  to  take  notice  of  her  cover- 
ing it  from  the  injuries  of  the  weather,  providing  it 
proper  nourishment,  and  teaching  it  to  help  itself;  nor 
to  mention  her  forsaking  the  nest,  if  after  the  usual  time 
of  reckoning  the  young  one  does  not  make  its  appearance. 
A  chemical  operation  could  not  be  followed  with  greater 
art  or  diligence  than  is  seen  in  the  hatching  of  a  chick; 
though  there  are  many  other  birds  that  show  an  infinitely 
greater  sagacity  in  all  the  forementioned  particulars. 

But  at  the  same  time  the  hen,  that  has  all  this  seeming 
ingenuity,  which  is  indeed  absolutely  necessary  for  the 
propagation  of  the  species,  considered  in  other  respects, 
is  without  the  least  glimmerings  of  thought  or  common- 
sense.  She  mistakes  a  piece  of  chalk  for  an  egg,  and  sits 
upon  it  in  the  same  manner;  she  is  insensible  of  any 
increase  or  diminution  in  the  number  of  those  she  lays; 
she  does  not  distinguish  between  her  own  and  those  of 
another  species;  and  when  the  birth  appears  of  never 
so  different  a  bird  will  cherish  it  for  her  own.  In  all 
these  circumstances  which  do  not  carry  an  immediate 
regard  to  the  subsistence  of  herself  or  her  species,  she 
is  a  very  idiot. 

There  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  anything  more  mysterious 
in    nature   than    this    instinct   in    animals,    which   thus 


224:  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

rises  above  reason,  and  falls  infinitely  short  of  it.  It 
cannot  be  accounted  for  by  any  properties  in  matter, 
and  at  the  same  time  works  after  so  odd  a  manner  that 
one  cannot  think  it  the  faculty  of  an  intellectual  being. 
For  my  own  part,  I  look  upon  it  as  upon  the  principle  of 
gravitation  in  bodies,  which  is  not  to  be  explained  by  any 
known  qualities  inherent  in  the  bodies  themselves,  nor 
from  any  laws  of  mechanism,  but,  according  to  the  best 
notions  of  the  greatest  philosophers,  is  an  immediate  im- 
pression from  the  first  Mover  and  the  Divine  Energy  act- 
ing in  the  creatures.  L. 

[Spectator  No.  122.    Fmday,  July  20,  1711.    Addison.] 

Comes  jucundus  in  via  pro  vehiculo  est.* 
— PuBLius  Sybus. 

A  man's  first  care  should  be  to  avoid  the  reproaches  of 
his  own  heart;  his  next,  to  escape  the  censures  of  the 
world.  If  the  last  interferes  with  the  former,  it  ought 
to  be  entirely  neglected;  but  otherwise  there  cannot  be  a 
greater  satisfaction  to  an  honest  mind  than  to  see  those 
approbations  which  it  gives  itself  seconded  by  the  ap- 
plauses of  the  public.  A  man  is  more  sure  of  his  con- 
duct when  the  verdict  which  he  passes  upon  his  own 
behavior  is  thus  warranted  and  confirmed  by  the  opinion 
of  all  that  know  him. 

My  worthy  friend  Sir  Eoger  is  one  of  those  who  is  not 
only  at  peace  within  himself  but  beloved  and  esteemed  by 
all  about  him.  He  receives  a  suitable  tribute  for  his 
universal  benevolence  to  mankind  in  the  returns  of  affec- 
tion and  good-will  which  are  paid  him  by  every  one  that 
lives  within  his  neighborhood.  I  lately  met  with  two  or 
three  odd  instances  of  that  general  respect  which  is 
shown  to  the  good  old  knight.  He  would  needs  carry 
Will  Wimble  and  myself  with  him  to  the  county  assizes. 
As  we  were  upon  the  road.  Will  Wimble  joined  a  couple 
of  plain  men  who  rid  before  us,  and  conversed  with  them 

*  "An  agreeable  companion  on  the  road  is  as  good  as  a  coach." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  225 

for  some  time,  during  which  my  friend  Sir  Eoger  ac- 
quainted me  with  their  characters. 

"The  first  of  them,"  says  he,  "that  has  a  spaniel  by 
his  side,  is  a  yeoman  of  about  an  hundred  pounds  a  year, 
an  honest  man.  He  is  just  within  the  Game  Act,  and 
qualified  to  kill  an  hare  or  a  pheasant.  He  knocks  down 
a  dinner  with  his  gun  twice  or  thrice  a  week;  and  by 
that  means  lives  much  cheaper  than  those  who  have  not 
so  good  an  estate  as  himself.  He  would  be  a  good  neigh- 
bor if  he  did  not  destroy  so  many  partridges;  in  short 
he  is  a  very  sensible  man,  shoots  flying,  and  has  been  sev- 
eral times  foreman  of  the  petty- jury. 

"The  other  that  rides  along  with  him  is  Tom  Touchy,  a 
fellow  famous  for  taking  the  law  of  everybody.  There  is 
not  one  in  the  town  where  he  lives  that  he  has  not  sued 
for  a  quarter-sessions.  The  rogue  had  once  the  impudence 
to  go  to  law  with  the  widow.  His  head  is  full  of  costs, 
damages,  and  ejectments;  he  plagued  a  couple  of  honest 
gentlemen  so  long  for  a  trespass  in  breaking  one  of  his 
hedges,  till  he  was  forced  to  sell  the  ground  it  enclosed 
to  defray  the  charges  of  the  prosecution.  His  father  left 
him  fourscore  poimds  a  year,  but  he  has  cast  and  been 
cast  so  often  that  he  is  not  now  worth  thirty.  I  suppose 
he  is  going  upon  the  old  business  of  the  willow  tree." 

As  Sir  Roger  was  giving  me  this  account  of  Tom 
Touchy,  Will  Wimble  and  his  two  companions  stopped 
short  till  we  came  up  to  them.  After  having  paid  their 
respects  to  Sir  Roger,  Will  told  him  that  Mr.  Touchy 
and  he  must  appeal  to  him  upon  a  dispute  that  arose 
between  them.  Will,  it  seems,  had  been  giving  his  fellow- 
traveler  an  account  of  his  angling  one  day  in  such  a  hole ; 
when  Tom  Touchy,  instead  of  hearing  out  his  story,  told 
him  that  Mr.  Such-an-one,  if  he  pleased,  might  take  the 
law  of  him  for  fishing  in  that  part  of  the  river.  My 
friend  Sir  Roger  heard  them  both,  upon  a  round  trot; 
and,  after  having  paused  some  time,  told  them,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  would  not  give  Bis  judgment  rashly, 
that  much  might  he  said  on  both  sides.    Th^  were  neither 


226  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

of  them  dissatisfied  with  the  knight's  determination,  be- 
cause neither  of  them  found  himself  in  the  wrong  by  it. 
Upon  which  we  made  the  best  of  our  way  to  the  assizes. 

The  court  was  sat  before  Sir  Roger  came;  but  not- 
withstanding all  the  justices  had  taken  their  places  upon 
the  bench,  they  made  room  for  the  old  knight  at  the 
head  of  them ;  who,  for  his  reputation  in  the  country,  took 
occasion  to  whisper  in  the  judge's  ear  that  he  was  glad  his 
lordship  had  met  with  so  much  good  weather  in  his  cir- 
cuit. I  was  listening  to  the  proceeding  of  the  court  with 
much  attention,  and  infinitely  pleased  with  that  great 
appearance  and  solemnity  which  so  properly  accompanies 
such  a  public  administration  of  our  laws,  when,  after 
about  an  hour's  sitting,  I  observed,  to  my  great  surprise, 
in  the  midst  of  a  trial,  that  my  friend  Sir  Roger  was 
getting  up  to  speak.  I  was  in  some  pain  for  him,  till 
I  found  he  had  acquitted  himself  of  two  or  three  sentences, 
with  a  look  of  much  business  and  great  intrepidity. 

Upon  his  first  rising  the  court  was  hushed,  and  a  gen- 
eral whisper  ran  among  the  country  people  that  Sir  Roger 
was  up.  The  speech  he  made  was  so  little  to  the  purpose 
that  I  shall  not  trouble  my  readers  with  an  account  of 
it;  and  I  believe  was  not  so  much  designed  by  the  knight 
himself  to  inform  the  court,  as  to  give  him  a  figure  in 
niy  eye,  and  keep  up  his  credit  in  the  country. 

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

In  our  return  home  we  met  with  a  very  odd  accident, 
which  I  cannot  forbear  relating,  because  it  shows  how 
desirous  all  who  know  Sir  Roger  are  of  giving  him  marks 
of  their  esteem.  When  we  were  arrived  upon  the  verge 
of  his  estate,  we  stopped  at  a  little  inn  to  rest  ourselves 
and  our  horses.  The  man  of  the  house  had,  it  seems, 
been  formerly  a  servant  in  the  knight's  family;  and,  to 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  227 

do  honor  to  his  old  master,  had  some  time  since,  unknown 
to  Sir  Roger,  put  him  up  in  a  sign-post  before  the  door; 
so  that  the  knight's  head  had  hung  out  upon  the  road 
about  a  week  before  he  himself  knew  anything  of  the 
matter.  As  soon  as  Sir  Eoger  was  acquainted  with  it, 
finding  that  his  servant's  indiscretion  proceeded  wholly 
from  affection  and  good-will,  he  only  told  him  that  he  had 
made  him  too  high  a  compliment;  and  when  the  fellow 
seemed  to  think  that  could  hardly  be,  added,  with  a 
more  decisive  look,  that  it  was  too  great  an  honor  for  any 
man  under  a  duke;  but  told  him  at  the  same  time  that 
it  might  be  altered  with  a  very  few  touches,  and  that  he 
himself  would  be  at  the  charge  of  it.  Accordingly  they 
got  a  painter,  by  the  knight's  directions,  to  add  a  pair 
of  whiskers  to  the  face,  and  by  a  little  aggravation  to  the 
features  to  change  it  into  the  Saracen's  Head.  I  should 
not  have  known  this  story  had  not  the  inn-keeper,  upon 
Sir  Roger's  alighting,  told  him  in  my  hearing  that  his 
honor's  head  was  brought  back  last  night  with  the  altera- 
tions that  he  had  ordered  to  be  made  in  it.  Upon  this, 
my  friend,  with  his  usual  cheerfulness,  related  the  par- 
ticulars above  mentioned,  and  ordered  the  head  to  be 
brought  into  the  room.  I  could  not  forbear  discovering 
greater  expressions  of  mirth  than  ordinary  upon  the  ap- 
pearance of  this  monstrous  face,  under  which,  notwith- 
standing it  was  made  to  frown  and  stare  in  a  most  extraor- 
dinary manner,  I  could  still  discover  a  distant  resem- 
blance of  my  old  friend.  Sir  Roger,  upon  seeing  me 
laugh,  desired  me  to  tell  him  truly  if  I  thought  it  possible 
for  people  to  know  him  in  that  disguise.  I  at  first  kept 
my  usual  silence;  but  upon  the  knight's  conjuring  me 
to  tell  him  whether  it  was  not  still  more  like  himself  than 
a  Saracen,  I  composed  my  countenance  in  the  best  manner 
I  could,  and  replied  that  much  might  be  said  on  both 
sides. 

These  several  adventures,  with  the  knight's  behavior  in 
them,  gave  me  as  pleasant  a  day  as  ever  I  met  with  in  any 
of  my  travels.  L. 


228  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 


[Spectator  No.  123.    Saturday,  July  21, 1711.    Addison.] 

Doctrina  sed  vim  promo  vet  insitam 

Rectique  cultus  pectora  roborant; 
Utcunque  defecere  mores, 
Dedecorant  bene  nata  culpae.* 

— ^HOBACE, 

As  I  was  yesterday  taking  the  air  with  my  friend  Sir 
Koger,  we  were  met  by  a  fresh-colored,  ruddy  young  man, 
who  rid  by  us  full  speed,  with  a  couple  of  servants  behind 
him.  Upon  my  inquiry  who  he  was.  Sir  Eoger  told  me 
that  he  was  a  young  gentleman  of  a  considerable  estate, 
who  had  been  educated  by  a  tender  mother  that  lives  not 
many  miles  from  the  place  where  we  were.  She  is  a  very 
good  lady,  says  my  friend,  but  took  so  much  care  of  her 
son's  health,  that  she  has  made  him  good  for  nothing. 
She  quickly  found  that  reading  was  bad  for  his  eyes, 
and  that  writing  made  his  head  ache.  He  was  let  loose 
among  the  woods  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  ride  on  horse- 
back, or  to  carry  a  gun  upon  his  shoulder.  To  be  brief, 
I  found  by  my  friend's  account  of  him,  that  he  had  got  a 
great  stock  of  he:^lth,  but  nothing  else;  and  that,  if  it 
were  a  man's  business  only  to  live,  there  would  not  be 
a  more  accomplished  young  fellow  in  the  whole  country. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  since  my  residing  in  these  parts  I 
have  seen  and  heard  innumerable  instances  of  young  heirs 
and  elder  brothers  who — either  from  their  own  reflecting 
upon  the  estates  they  are  born  to,  and  therefore  thinking 
all  other  accomplishments  unnecessary;  or  from  hearing 
these  notions  frequently  inculcated  to  them  by  the  flattery 
of  their  servants  and  domestics ;  or  from  the  same  foolish 
thought  prevailing  in  those  who  have  the  care  of  their 
education — are  of  no  manner  of  use  but  to  keep  up  their 

*  "Yet  the  best  blood  by  learning  is  refined, 
And  virtue  arms  the  solid   mind  ; 
Whilst  vice  will  stamp  the  noblest  race, 
And   the   paternal   stamp    efface." — Oldiswobth. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  229 

families,  and  transmit  their  lands  and  houses  in  a  line  to 
posterity. 

This  makes  me  often  think  on  a  story  I  have  heard  of 
two  friends,  which  I  shall  give  my  reader  at  large  under 
feigned  names.  The  moral  of  it  may,  I  hope,  be  useful, 
though  there  are  some  circumstances  which  make  it  rather 
appear  like  a  novel  than  a  true  story. 

Eudoxus  and  Leontine  began  the  world  with  small  es- 
tates. They  were  both  of  them  men  of  good  sense  and 
great  virtue.  They  prosecuted  their  studies  together  in 
their  earlier  years,  and  entered  into  such  a  friendship  as 
lasted  to  the  end  of  their  lives.  Eudoxus,  at  his  firsi? 
setting  out  in  the  world,  threw  himself  into  a  court, 
where  by  his  natural  endowments  and  his  acquired  abili- 
ties he  made  his  way  from  one  post  to  another,  till  at 
length  he  had  raised  a  very  considerable  fortune.  Leon- 
tine,  on  the  contrary,  sought  all  opportunities  of  improv- 
ing his  mind  by  study,  conversation,  and  travel.  He 
was  not  only  acquainted  with  all  the  sciences,  but  the 
most  eminent  professors  of  them  throughout  Europe.  He 
knew  perfectly  well  the  interests  of  its  princes,  with  the 
customs  and  fashions  of  their  courts,  and  could  scarce 
meet  with  the  name  of  an  extraordinary  person  in  The 
Gazette  whom  he  had  not  either  talked  to  or  seen.  In 
short,  he  had  so  well  mixed  and  digested  his  knowledge 
of  men  and  books  that  he  made  one  of  the  most  accom- 
plished persons  of  his  age.  During  the  whole  course  of 
his  studies  and  travels  he  kept  up  a  punctual  correspond- 
ence with  Eudoxus,  who  often  made  himseK  acceptable  to 
the  principal  men  about  court  by  the  intelligence  which 
he  received  from  Leontine.  When  they  were  both  turned 
of  forty — an  age  in  which,  according  to  Mr.  Cowley,  "there 
is  no  dallying  with  life" — ^they  determined,  pursuant  to 
the  resolution  they  had  taken  in  the  beginning  of  their 
lives,  to  retire,  and  pass  the  remainder  of  their  days  in 
the  country.  In  order  to  this,  they  both  of  them  married 
much  about  the  same  time.  Leontine,  with  his  own  and 
his  wife's  fortune,  bought  a  farm  of  three  hundred  a 


230  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

year,  which  lay  wiihin  the  neighborhood  of  his  friend 
Eudoxus,  who  had  purchased  an  estate  of  as  many  thou- 
sands.    They  were  both  of  them  fathers  about  the  same 
time,  Eudoxus  having  a  son  born  to  him,  and  Leontine  a 
daughter;  but,  to  the  unspeakable  grief  of  the  latter,  his 
young  wife,   in  whom  all  his  happiness   was  wrapt  up, 
died  a  few  days  after  the  birth  of  her  daughter.     His 
affliction  would  have  been  insupportable  had  not  he  been 
comforted  by  the  daily  visits   and  conversations  of  his 
friend.     As  they  were  one  day  talking  together  with  their 
usual  intimacy,  Leontine  considering  how  incapable  he 
was  of  giving  his  daughter  a  proper  education  in  his 
own  house,  and  Eudoxus  reflecting  on  the  ordinary  be- 
havior of  a  son  who  knows  himself  to  be  the  heir  of  a 
great  estate,  they  both  agreed  upon  an  exchange  of  chil- 
dren; namely,  that  the  boy  should  be  bred  up  with  Leon- 
tine as  his  son,  and  that  the  girl  should  live  with  Eudoxus 
as  his  daughter,  till  they  were  each  of  them  arrived  at 
years  of  discretion.     The  wife  of  Eudoxus,  knowing  that 
her  son  could  not  be  so  advantageously  brought  up  as 
under  the  care  of  Leontine,  and  considering  at  the  same 
time  that  he  would  be  perpetually  under  her  own  eye, 
was  by  degrees  prevailed  upon  to  fall  in  with  the  project. 
She  therefore  took  Leonilla,  for  that  was  the  name  of 
the  girl,  and  educated  her  as  her  own  daughter.     The  two 
friends  on  each  side  had  wrought  themselves  to  such  an 
habitual  tenderness  for  the  children  who  were  under  their 
direction,  that  each  of  them  had  the  real  passion  of  a 
father,  where  the  title  was  but  imaginary.     Florio,  the 
name  of  the  young  heir  that  lived  with  Leontine,  though 
he  had  all  the  duty  and  affection  imaginable  for  his  sup- 
posed parent,  was  taught  to  rejoice  at  the  sight  of  Eu- 
doxus, who  visited  his  friend  very  frequently,  and  was 
dictated  by  his  natural  affection,  as  well  as  by  the  rules 
of  prudence,  to  make  himself  esteemed  and  beloved  by 
Elorio.     The  boy  was  now  old  enough  to  know  his  sup- 
posed father's  circumstances,  and  that  therefore  he  was 
to  make  his  way  in  the  world  by  his  own  industry.     This 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  231 

consideration  grew  stronger  in  him  every  day,  and  pro- 
duced so  good  an  effect  that  he  applied  himself  with  more 
than  ordinary  attention  to  the  pursuit  of  everything  which 
Leontine  recommended  to  him.  His  natural  abilities, 
which  were  very  good,  assisted  by  the  directions  of  so 
excellent  a  counselor,  enabled  him  to  make  a  quicker 
progress  than  ordinary  through  all  the  parts  of  his  educa- 
tion. Before  he  was  twenty  years  of  age,  having  finished 
his  studies  and  exercises  with  great  applause,  he  was 
removed  from  the  University  to  the  Inns  of  Court,  where 
there  are  very  few  that  make  themselves  considerable  pro- 
ficients in  the  studies  of  the  place  who  know  they  shall 
arrive  at  great  estates  without  them.  This  was  not 
Florio's  case;  he  found  that  three  hundred  a  year  was 
but  a  poor  estate  for  Leontine  and  himself  to  live  upon, 
so  that  he  studied  without  intermission  till  he  gained  a 
very  good  insight  into  the  constitution  and  laws  of  his 
country. 

I  should  have  told  my  reader,  that  whilst  Florio  lived 
at  the  house  of  his  foster-father  he  was  always  an  ac- 
ceptable guest  in  the  family  of  Eudoxus,  where  he  became 
acquainted  with  Leonilla  from  her  infancy.  His  ac- 
quaintance with  her,  by  degrees  grew  into  love,  which  in 
a  mind  trained  up  in  all  the  sentiments  of  honor  and 
virtue  became  a  very  uneasy  passion.  He  despaired  of 
gaining  an  heiress  of  so  great  a  fortune,  and  would  rather 
have  died  than  attempted  it  by  any  indirect  methods. 
Leonilla,  who  was  a  woman  of  the  greatest  beauty  joined 
with  the  greatest  modesty,  entertained  at  the  same  time 
a  secret  passion  for  Florio,  but  conducted  herself  with 
so  much  prudence  that  she  never  gave  him  the  least  inti- 
mation of  it.  Florio  was  now  engaged  in  all  those  arts 
and  improvements  that  are  proper  to  raise  a  man's  private 
fortune,  and  give  him  a  figure  in  his  country,  but  secretly 
tormented  with  that  passion  which  burns  with  the  great- 
est fury  in  a  virtuous  and  noble  heart,  when  he  received 
a  sudden  summons  from  Leontine  to  repair  to  him  into 
the  country  the  next  day.     For  it  seems  Eudoxus  was  so 


232  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

filled  with  the  report  of  his  son's  reputation  that  he  could 
no  longer  withhold  making  himself  known  to  him.  The 
morning  after  his  arrival  at  the  house  of  his  supposed 
father,  Leontine  told  him  that  Eudoxus  had  something 
of  great  importance  to  communicate  to  him;  upon  which 
the  good  man  embraced  him  and  wept.  Florio  was  no 
sooner  arrived  at  the  great  house  that  stood  in  his  neigh- 
borhood but  Eudoxus  took  him  by  the  hand,  after  the 
first  salutes  were  over,  and  conducted  him  into  his  closet. 
He  there  opened  to  him  the  whole  secret  of  his  parentage 
and  education,  concluding  after  this  manner:  "I  have  no 
other  way  left  of  acknowledging  my  gratitude  to  Leontine 
than  by  marrying  you  to  his  daughter.  He  shall  not 
lose  the  pleasure  of  being  your  father  by  the  discovery 
I  have  made  to  you.  Leonilla,  too,  shall  be  still  my  daugh- 
ter; her  filial  piety,  though  misplaced,  has  been  so  exem- 
plary that  it  deserves  the  greatest  reward  I  can  confer 
upon  it.  You  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  a  great 
estate  fall  to  you,  which  you  would  have  lost  the  relish  of 
had  you  known  yourself  bom  to  it.  Continue  only  to 
deserve  it  in  the  same  manner  you  did  before  you  were 
possessed  of  it.  I  have  left  your  mother  in  the  next 
room.  Her  heart  yearns  toward  you.  She  is  making  the 
same  discoveries  to  Leonilla  which  I  have  made  to 
yourself.''  Florio  was  so  overwhelmed  with  this  profu- 
sion of  happiness  that  he  was  not  able  to  make  a  reply, 
but  threw  himseK  down  at  his  father's  feet,  and  amidst  a 
flood  of  tears  kissed  and  embraced  his  knees,  asking  his 
blessing,  and  expressing  in  dumb  show  those  sentiments 
of  love,  duty,  and  gratitude  that  were  too  big  for  utter- 
ance. To  conclude,  the  happy  pair  were  married,  and 
half  Eudoxus's  estate  settled  upon  them.  Leontine  and 
Eudoxus  passed  the  remainder  of  their  lives  together;  and 
received  in  the  dutiful  and  affectionate  behavior  of  Florio 
and  Leonilla  the  just  recompense,  as  well  as  the  natural 
effects,  of  that  care  which  they  had  bestowed  upon  them 
in  their  education.  L, 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  233 

On  Party  Spirit 
[Spectator  No.  125.    Tuesday,  July  24,  1711.    Addison.] 

Ne,  pueri,  ne  tanta  animis  assuescite  bella: 
Neu  patriae  validas  in  viscera  vertite  vires.^ 

— Vebgll. 

My  worthy  friend,  Sir  Eoger,  when  we  are  talking 
of  the  malice  of  parties,  very  frequently  tells  us  an  acci- 
dent that  happened  to  him  when  he  was  a  school-boy, 
which  was  at  a  time  when  the  feuds  ran  high  between  the 
Eoundheads  and  Cavaliers.  This  worthy  knight,  being 
then  but  a  stripling,  had  occasion  to  inquire  which  was 
the  way  to  St.  Anne's  Lane,  upon  which  the  person  whom 
he  spoke  to,  instead  of  answering  his  question,  called  him 
a  young  popish  cur,  and  asked  him  who  had  made  Anne 
a  saint!  The  boy,  being  in  some  confusion,  inquired  of 
the  next  he  met,  which  was  the  way  to  Anne's  Lane;  but 
was  called  a  prick-eared  cur  for  his  pains,  and  instead  of 
being  shown  the  way  was  told  that  she  had  been  a  saint 
before  he  was  bom,  and  would  be  one  after  he  was  hanged. 
"Upon  this,"  says  Sir  Roger,  "I  did  not  think  fit  to  repeat 
the  former  question,  but  going  into  every  lane  of  the 
neighborhood,  asked  what  they  called  the  name  of  that 
lane."  By  which  ingenious  artifice  he  found  out  the  place 
he  inquired  after,  without  giving  offense  to  any  party. 
Sir  Roger  generally  closes  this  narrative  with  reflections 
on  the  mischief  that  parties  do  in  the  country;  how  they 
spoil  good  neighborhood,  and  make  honest  gentlemen  hate 
one  another;  besides  that  they  manifestly  tend  to  the 
prejudice  of  the  land-tax,  and  the  destruction  of  the  game. 

There  cannot  a  greater  judgment  befall  a  country  than 
such  a  dreadful  spirit  of  division  as  rends  a  government 
into  two  distinct  people,  and  makes  them  greater  strangers 

1  "This  thirst  of  kindred  blood,  my  sires,  detest. 
Nor  turn  your  force  against  your  country's  breast." 

— Drydbn. 


234  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

and  more  averse  to  one  another  than  if  they  were  actually 
two  different  nations.  The  effects  of  such  a  division  are 
pernicious  to  the  last  degree,  not  only  with  regard  to 
those  advantages  which  they  give  the  common  enemy,  but 
to  those  private  evils  which  they  produce  in  the  heart  of 
almost  every  particular  person.  This  influence  is  very 
fatal  both  to  men's  morals  and  their  understandings;  it 
sinks  the  virtue  of  a  nation,  and  not  only  so,  but  destroys 
even  common  sense. 

A  furious  party  spirit,  when  it  rages  in  its  full  violence, 
exerts  itself  in  civil  war  and  bloodshed;  and  when  it  is 
under  its  greatest  restraints  naturally  breaks  out  in  false- 
hood, detraction,  calumny,  and  a  partial  administration 
of  justice.  In  a  word,  it  fills  a  nation  with  spleen  and 
rancor,  and  extinguishes  all  the  seeds  of  good-nature, 
compassion,  and  humanity.  Plutarch  says,  very  finely, 
that  a  man  should  not  allow  himself  to  hate  even  his 
enemies ; — ^^Because,"  says  he,  '4f  you  indulge  this  passion 
in  some  occasions,  it  will  rise  of  itself  in  others;  if  you 
hate  your  enemies,  you  will  contract  such  a  vicious  habit 
of  mind  as  by  degrees  will  break  out  upon  those  who 
are  your  friends,  or  those  who  are  indifferent  to  you."  I 
might  here  observe  how  admirably  this  precept  of  morality, 
which  derives  the  malignity  of  hatred  from  the  passion 
itself,  and  not  from  its  object.,  answers  to  that  great  rule 
which  was  dictated  to  the  world  about  an  hundred  years 
before  this  philosopher  wrote;  but  instead  of  that,  I  shall 
only  take  notice,  with  a  real  grief  of  heart,  that  the  minds 
of  man^  good  men  among  us  appear  soured  with  party 
principles,  and  alienated  from  one  another  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  seems  to  me  altogether  inconsistent  with  the  dic- 
tates either  of  reason  or  religion.  Zeal  for  a  public  cause 
is  apt  to  breed  passions  in  the  hearts  of  virtuous  persons 
to  which  the  regard  of  their  own  private  interest  would 
never  have  betrayed  them. 

If  this  party  spirit  has  so  ill  an  effect  on  our  morals, 
it  has  likewise  a  very  great  one  upon  our  judgments.  We 
often  hear  a  poor,  insipid  paper  or  pamphlet  cried  up,  and 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  235 

sometimes  a  noble  piece  depreciated,  by  those  who  are  of 
a  different  principle  from  the  author.  One  who  is  actu- 
ated by  this  spirit  is  almost  under  an  incapacity  of  dis- 
cerning either  real  blemishes  or  beauties.  A  man  of  merit 
in  a  different  principle  is  like  an  object  seen  in  two 
different  mediums,  that  appears  crooked  or  broken,  how- 
ever straight  or  entire  it  may  be  in  itself.  For  this  rea- 
son, there  is  scarce  a  person  of  any  figure  in  England  who 
does  not  go  by  two  contrary  characters,  as  opposite  to 
one  another  as  light  and  darkness.  Knowledge  and  learn- 
ing suffer  in  a  particular  manner  from  this  strange  preju- 
dice, which  at  present  prevails  amongst  all  ranks  and 
degrees  in  the  British  nation.  As  men  formerly  became 
eminent  in  learned  societies  by  their  parts  and  acquisi- 
tions, they  now  distinguish  themselves  by  the  warmth 
and  violence  with  which  they  espouse  their  respective 
parties.  Books  are  valued  upon  the  like  considerations. 
An  abusive,  scurrilous  style  passes  for  satire,  and  a  dull 
scheme  of  party  notions  is  called  fine  writing. 

There  is  one  piece  of  sophistry  practised  by  both  sides, 
and  that  is  the  taking  any  scandalous  story  that  has  been 
ever  whispered  or  invented  of  a  private  man  for  a  known, 
undoubted  truth,  and  raising  suitable  speculations  upon 
it.  Calumnies  that  have  never  been  proved,  or  have  been 
often  refuted,  are  the  ordinary  postulatums  of  these  in- 
famous scribblers,  upon  which  they  proceed  as  upon  first 
principles  granted  by  all  men,  though  in  their  hearts  they 
know  they  are  false,  or  at  best  very  doubtful.  When  they 
have  laid  these  foundations  of  scurrility,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  their  superstructure  is  every  way  answerable  to  them. 
If  this  shameless  practise  of  the  present  age  endures  much 
longer,  praise  and  reproach  will  cease  to  be  motives  of 
action  in  good  men. 

There  are  certain  periods  of  time  in  all  governments 
when  this  inhuman  spirit  prevails.  Italy  was  long  torn 
in  pieces  by  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibellines,  and  France  by 
those  who  were  for  and  against  the  League;  but  it  is  very 
unhappy  for  a  man  to  be  born  in  such  a  stormy  and 


236  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

tempestuous  season.  It  is  the  restless  ambition  of  artful 
men  that  thus  breaks  a  people  into  factions,  and  draws 
several  well-meaning  persons  to  their  interest  by  a  spe- 
cious concern  for  their  country.  How  many  honest  minds 
are  filled  with  uncharitable  and  barbarous  notions,  out 
of  their  zeal  for  the  public  good!  What  cruelties  and 
outrages  would  they  not  commit  against  men  of  an 
adverse  party,  whom  they  would  honor  and  esteem,  if, 
instead  of  considering  them  as  they  are  represented,  they 
knew  them  as  they  are !  Thus  are  persons  of  the  greatest 
probity  seduced  into  shameful  errors  and  prejudices,  and 
made  bad  men  even  by  that  noblest  of  principles,  the  'love 
of  their  country."  I  cannot  here  forbear  mentioning  the 
famous  Spanish  proverb,  "If  there  were  neither  fools  nor 
knaves  in  the  world,  all  people  would  be  of  one  mind." 

For  my  own  part,  I  could  heartily  wish  that  all 
honest  men  would  enter  into  an  association  for  the  sup- 
port of  one  another  against  the  endeavors  of  those  whom 
they  ought  to  look  upon  as  their  common  enemies,  what- 
soever side  they  may  belong  to.  Were  there  such  an 
honest  body  of  neutral  forces,  we  should  never  see  the 
worst  of  men  in  great  figures  of  life,  because  they  are  use- 
ful to  a  party;  nor  the  best  unregarded,  because  they  are 
above  practising  those  methods  which  would  be  grateful 
to  their  faction.  We  should  then  single  every  criminal 
out  of  the  herd,  and  hunt  him  down,  however  formidable 
and  overgrown  he  might  appear.  On  the  contrary,  we 
should  shelter  distressed  innocence,  and  defend  virtue, 
however  beset  with  contempt  or  ridicule,  envy  or  defama- 
tion. In  short,  we  should  not  any  longer  regard  our 
fellow  subjects  as  Whigs  or  Tories,  but  should  make  the 
man  of  merit  our  friend,  and  the  villain  our  enemy. 

0. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  237 

[Spectator  No.   126.     Wednesday,  July  25,  1711, 
Addison.] 

Tros  Rutulusve  fuat,  nullo  discrimine  habebo.^ 

— Vebgil. 

In  my  yesterday's  paper,  I  proposed  that  the  honest  men 
of  all  parties  should  enter  into  a  kind  of  association 
for  the  defense  of  one  another  and  the  confusion  of  their 
common  enemies.  As  it  is  designed  this  neutral  body 
should  act  with  a  regard  to  nothing  but  truth  and  equity, 
and  divest  themselves  of  the  little  heats  and  preposses- 
sions that  cleave  to  parties  of  all  kinds,  I  have  prepared 
for  them  the  following  form  of  an  association,  which  may 
express  their  intentions  in  the  most  plain  and  simple 
manner : 

^We  whose  names  are  hereunto  subscribed,  do  solemnly 
declare  that  we  do  in  our  consciences  believe  two  and 
two  make  four;  and  that  we  shall  adjudge  any  man 
whatsoever  to  be  our  enemy  who  endeavors  to  persuade 
us  to  the  contrary. 

^We  are  likewise  ready  to  maintain,  with  the  hazard 
of  all  that  is  near  and  dear  to  us,  that  six  is  less  than 
seven  in  all  times  and  all  places,  and  that  ten  will  not 
be  more  three  years  hence  than  it  is  at  present. 

"We  do  also  firmly  declare,  that  it  is  our  resolution  as 
long  as  we  live  to  call  black  black,  and  white  white.  And 
we  shall  upon  all  occasions  oppose  such  persons  that,  upon 
any  day  of  the  year,  shall  call  black  white,  or  white 
black,  with  the  utmost  peril  of  our  lives  and  fortunes." 

Were  there  such  a  combination  of  honest  men,  who 
without  any  regard  to  places  would  endeavor  to  extirpate 
all  such  furious  zealots  as  would  sacrifice  one  half  of  their 
country  to  the  passion  and  interest  of  the  other;  as  also 

*  "Rutulians,  Trojans,  are  the  same  to  me.'* — Drtdbn. 


238  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

such  infamous  hypocrites  that  are  for  promoting  their 
own  advantage  under  color  of  the  public  good;  with  all 
the  profligate,  immoral  retainers  to  each  side,  that  have 
nothing  to  recommend  them  but  an  implicit  submission  to 
their  leaders; — we  should  soon  see  that  furious  party 
spirit  extinguished  which  may  in  time  expose  us  to  the 
derision  and  contempt  of  all  the  nations  about  us. 

A  member  of  this  society  that  would  thus  carefully 
employ  himself  in  making  room  for  merit  by  throwing 
down  the  worthless  and  depraved  part  of  mankind  from 
those  conspicuous  stations  of  life  to  which  they  have  been 
sometimes  advanced,  and  all  this  without  any  regard  to 
his  private  interest,  would  be  no  small  benefactor  to  his 
country. 

I  remember  to  have  read  in  Diodorus  Siculus  an  ac- 
count of  a  very  active  little  animal,  which  I  think  he  calls 
the  ichneumon,  that  makes  it  the  whole  business  of  his 
life  to  break  the  eggs  of  the  crocodile,  which  he  is  always 
in  search  after.  This  instinct  is  the  more  remarkable 
because  the  ichneumon  never  feeds  upon  the  eggs  he  has 
broken,  nor  in  any  other  way  finds  his  account  in  them. 
Were  it  not  for  the  incessant  labors  of  this  industrious 
animal,  Egypt,  says  the  historian,  would  be  overrun  with 
crocodiles;  for  the  Egyptians  are  so  far  from  destroying 
those  pernicious  creatures  that  they  worship  them  as  gods. 

If  we  look  into  the  behavior  of  ordinary  partizans,  we 
shall  find  them  far  from  resembling  this  disinterested  ani- 
mal, and  rather  acting  after  the  example  of  the  wild 
Tartars,  who  are  ambitious  of  destroying  a  man  of  the 
most  extraordinary  parts  and  accomplishments,  as  think- 
ing that  upon  his  decease  the  same  talents,  whatever  post 
they  qualified  him  for,  enter  of  course  into  his  destroyer. 

As  in  the  whole  train  of  my  speculations  I  have  en- 
deavored, as  much  as  I  am  able,  to  extinguish  that  per- 
nicious spirit  of  passion  and  prejudice  which  rages  with 
the  same  violence  in  aU  parties,  I  am  still  the  more 
desirous  of  doing  some  good  in  this  particular  because  I 
observe  that  the  spirit  of  party  reigns  more  in  the  coun- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  239 

try  than  in  the  town.  It  here  contracts  a  kind  of  brutality 
and  rustic  fierceness  to  which  men  of  a  politer  conversa- 
tion are  wholly  strangers.  It  extends  itself  even  to  the 
return  of  the  bow  and  the  hat ;  and  at  the  same  time  that 
the  heads  of  parties  preserve  toward  one  another  an  out- 
ward show  of  good  breeding,  and  keep  up  a  perpetual 
intercourse  of  civilities,  their  tools  that  are  dispersed  in 
these  outlying  parts  will  not  so  much  as  mingle  together 
at  a  cock-match.  This  humor  fills  the  country  with  sev- 
eral periodical  meetings  of  Whig  jockeys  and  Tory  fox- 
hunters,  not  to  mention  the  innumerable  curses,  frowns, 
and  whispers  it  produces  at  a  quarter-sessions. 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  observed,  in  any  of  my 
former  papers,  that  my  friends  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and 
Sir  Andrew  Freeport  are  of  different  principles;  the  first 
of  them  inclined  to  the  landed  and  the  other  to  the 
moneyed  interest.  This  humor  is  so  moderate  in  each  of 
them  that  it  proceeds  no  farther  than  to  an  agreeable 
raillery,  which  very  often  diverts  the  rest  of  the  club.  I 
find,  however,  that  the  knight  is  a  much  stronger  Tory  in 
the  country  than  in  town,  which,  as  he  has  told  me  in  my 
ear,  is  absolutely  necessary  for  the  keeping  up  his  interest. 
In  all  our  journey  from  London  to  his  house  we  did  not 
so  much  as  bait  at  a  Whig  inn ;  or  if  by  chance  the  coach- 
man stopped  at  a  wrong  place,  one  of  Sir  Roger's  servants 
would  ride  up  to  his  master  full  speed,  and  whisper  to 
him  that  the  master  of  the  house  was  against  such  an  one 
in  the  last  election.  This  often  betrayed  us  into  hard 
beds  and  bad  cheer;  for  we  were  not  so  inquisitive  about 
the  inn  as  the  innkeeper,  and,  provided  our  landlord's 
principles  were  sound,  did  not  take  any  notice  of  the 
staleness  of  his  provisions.  This  I  found  stiU  the  more 
inconvenient  because  the  better  the  host  was,  the  worse 
generally  were  his  accommodations, — ^the  fellow  knowing 
very  well  that  those  who  were  his  friends  would  take  up 
with  coarse  diet  and  an  hard  lodging.  For  these  reasons, 
all  the  while  I  was  upon  the  road  I  dreaded  entering  into 


240  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

an  house  of  any  one  that  Sir  Eoger  had  applauded  for  an 
honest  man. 

Since  my  stay  at  Sir  Eoger's  in  the  country,  I  daily 
find  more  instances  of  this  narrow  party-humor.  Being 
upon  a  bowling-green  at  a  neighboring  market-town  the 
other  day  (for  that  is  the  place  where  the  gentlemen 
of  one  side  meet  once  a  week),  I  observed  a  stranger 
among  them  of  a  better  presence  and  genteeler  behavior 
than  ordinary;  but  was  much  surprised  that,  notwith- 
standing he  was  a  very  fair  better,  nobody  would  take  him 
up.  But,  upon  inquiry,  I  found  that  he  was  one  who 
had  given  a  disagreeable  vote  in  a  former  parliament, 
for  which  reason  there  was  not  a  man  upon  that  bowling- 
green  who  would  have  so  much  correspondence  with  him 
as  to  win  his  money  of  him. 

Among  other  instances  of  this  nature,  I  must  not  omit 
one  which  concerns  myself.  Will  Wimble  was  the  other 
day  relating  several  strange  stories,  that  he  had  picked  up 
nobody  knows  where,  of  a  certain  great  man,  and  upon 
my  staring  at  him,  as  one  that  was  surprised  to  hear  such 
things  in  the  country  which  had  never  been  so  much  as 
whispered  in  the  town.  Will  stopped  short  in  the  thread 
of  his  discourse,  and  after  dinner  asked  my  friend  Sir 
Koger  in  his  ear  if  he  was  sure  that  I  was  not  a  fanatic' 

It  gives  me  a  serious  concern  to  see  such  a  spirit  of 
dissension  in  the  country;  not  only  as  it  destroys  virtue 
and  common  sense,  and  renders  us  in  a  manner  bar- 
barians toward  one  another,  but  as  it  perpetuates  our 
animosities,  widens  our  breaches,  and  transmits  our  pres- 
ent passions  and  prejudices  to  our  posterity.  For  my 
own  part,  I  am  sometimes  afraid  that  I  discover  the  seeds 
of  a  civil  war  in  these  our  divisions,  and  therefore  cannot 
but  bewail,  as  in  their  first  principles,  the  miseries  and 
calamities  of  our  children.  C. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  241 

[Spectator    No.    127.      Thursday,    July    26,    1711. 
Addison.] 


Quantum  est  in  rebus  Inane?* 

— Pees. 

It  is  our  custom  at  Sir  Roger's,  upon  the  coming  in  of 
the  post,  to  sit  about  a  pot  of  coffee,  and  hear  the  old 
knight  read  Dyer's  Letter;  which  he  does  with  his  spec- 
tacles upon  liis  nose,  and  in  an  audible  voice,  smiling 
very  often  at  those  little  strokes  of  satire  which  are  so  fre- 
quent in  the  writings  of  that  author.  I  afterwards  com- 
municate to  the  knight  such  packets  as  I  receive  under 
the  quality  of  Spectator.  The  following  letter  chancing 
to  please  him  more  than  ordinary,  I  shall  publish  it  at 
his  request: — 

"Mr.  Spectator, 

^TTou  have  diverted  the  town  almost  a  whole  month  at 
the  expense  of  the  country,  it  is  now  high  time  that  you 
should  give  the  country  their  revenge.  Since  your  with- 
drawing from  this  place,  the  fair  sex  are  run  into  great 
extravagancies.  Their  petticoats,  which  began  to  heave 
and  swell  before  you  left  us,  are  now  blown  up  into  a 
most  enormous  concave,  and  rise  every  day  more  and 
more:  in  short,  sir,  since  our  women  know  themselves 
to  be  out  of  the  eye  of  the  Spectator,  they  will  be  kept 
within  no  compass.  You  praised  them  a  little  too  soon, 
for  the  modesty  of  their  head-dresses;  for  as  the  humor 
of  a  sick  person  is  often  driven  out  of  one  limb  into  an- 
other, their  superfluity  of  ornaments,  instead  of  being 
entirely  banished,  seems  only  fallen  from  their  heads 
upon  their  lower  parts.  What  they  have  lost  in  height 
they  have  made  up  in  breadth,  and  contrary  to  all  rules  of 
architecture  widen  the  foundations  at  the  same  time  that 
they  shorten  the  superstructure.     Were  they,  like  Spanish 

1  How  much  of  emptiness  we  find  in  things? 


242  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

jennets,  to  impregnate  by  the  wind,  they  could  not  have 
thought  on  a  more  proper  invention.  But  as  we  do  not  yet 
hear  any  particular  use  in  this  petticoat,  or  that  it  contains 
anything  more  than  what  was  supposed  to  be  in  those 
of  scantier  make,  we  are  wonderfully  at  a  loss  about  it. 

"The  women  give  out,  in  defense  of  these  wide  bottoms, 
that  they  are  airy  and  very  proper  for  the  season;  but 
this  I  look  upon  to  be  only  a  pretense,  and  a  piece  of  art, 
for  it  is  well  known  we  have  not  had  a  more  moderate 
summer  these  many  years,  so  that  it  is  certain  the  heat 
they  complain  of  cannot  be  in  the  weather;  besides,  I 
would  fain  ask  these  tender-constitutioned  ladies,  why 
they  should  require  more  cooling  than  their  mothers  be- 
fore them? 

"I  find  several  speculative  persons  are  of  opinion  that 
our  sex  has  of  late  years  been  very  saucy,  and  that  the 
hoop  petticoat  is  made  use  of  to  keep  us  at  a  distance. 
It  is  most  certain  that  a  woman's  honor  cannot  be  better 
entrenched  than  after  this  manner,  in  circle  within  circle, 
amidst  such  a  variety  of  out-works  and  lines  of  circumval- 
lation.  A  female  who  is  thus  invested  in  whale-bone  is 
sufficiently  secured  against  the  approaches  of  an  ill-bred 
fellow,  who  might  as  well  think  of  Sir  George  Etherege's 
way  of  making  love  in  a  tub,  as  in  the  midst  of  so  many 
hoops. 

"Among  these  various  conjectures,  there  are  men  of  su- 
perstitious tempers,  who  look  upon  the  hoop  petticoat  as 
a  kind  of  prodigy.  Some  will  have  it  that  it  portends  the 
downfall  of  the  French  king,  and  observe  that  the  farth- 
ingale appeared  in  England  a  little  before  the  ruin  of 
the  Spanish  monarchy.  Others  are  of  opinion  that  it 
foretells  battle  and  bloodshed,  and  believe  it  of  the  same 
prognostication  as  the  tail  of  a  blazing  star.  For  my 
part,  I  am  apt  to  think  it  is  a  sign  that  multitudes  are 
coming  into  the  world  rather  than  going  out  of  it. 

"The  first  time  I  saw  a  lady  dressed  in  one  of  these 
petticoats,  I  could  not  forbear  blaming  her  in  my  own 
thoughts  for  walking  abroad  when  she  was  so  near  her 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  243 

time,  but  soon  recovered  myself  out  of  my  error,  when  I 
found  all  the  modish  part  of  the  sex  as  far  gone  as  herself. 
It  is  generally  thought  some  crafty  women  have  thus  be- 
trayed their  companions  into  hoops,  that  they  might  make 
them  accessory  to  their  own  concealments,  and  by  that 
means  escape  the  censure  of  the  world;  as  wary  generals 
have  sometimes  dressed  two  or  three  dozen  of  their  friends 
in  their  own  habit,  that  they  might  not  draw  upon  them- 
selves any  particular  attacks  of  the  enemy.  The  strutting 
petticoat  smooths  all  distinctions,  levels  the  mother  with 
the  daughter,  and  sets  maids  and  matrons,  wives  and 
widows,  upon  the  same  bottom.  In  the  meanwhile  I  can- 
not but  be  troubled  to  see  so  many  well-shaped  innocent 
virgins  bloated  up,  and  waddling  up  and  down  like  big- 
bellied  women. 

^^Should  this  fashion  get  among  the  ordinary  people, 
our  public  ways  would  be  so  crowded  that  we  should  want 
street-room.  Several  congregations  of  the  best  fashion 
find  themselves  already  very  much  straitened,  and  if  the 
mode  increase  I  wish  it  may  not  drive  many  ordinary 
women  into  meetings  and  conventicles.  Should  our  sex 
at  the  same  time  take  it  into  their  heads  to  wear  trunk 
breeches  (as  who  knows  what  their  indignation  at  this 
female  treatment  may  drive  them  to),  a  man  and  his  wife 
would  fill  a  whole  pew. 

"You  know,  sir,  it  is  recorded  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
that  in  his  Indian  expedition  he  buried  several  suits  of 
armor,  which  by  his  direction  were  made  much  too  big  for 
any  of  his  soldiers,  in  order  to  give  posterity  an  extraor- 
dinary idea  of  him,  and  make  them  believe  he  had  com- 
manded an  army  of  giants.  I  am  persuaded  that  if  one 
of  the  present  petticoats  happen  to  be  hung  up  in  any 
repository  of  curiosities,  it  wiU  lead  into  the  same  error 
the  generations  that  lie  some  removes  from  us:  unless 
we  can  believe  our  posterity  will  think  so  disrespectfully 
of  their  great-grandmothers,  that  they  made  themselves 
monstrous  to  appear  amiable. 

"When  I  survey  this  new-fashioned  rotonda  in  all  its 


244  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

parts,  I  cannot  but  think  of  the  old  philosopher,  who  after 
having  entered  into  an  Egyptian  temple,  and  looked  about 
for  the  idol  of  the  place,  at  length  discovered  a  little  black 
monkey  enshrined  in  the  midst  of  it,  upon  which  he  could 
not  forbear  crying  out  (to  the  great  scandal  of  the  wor- 
shipers), what  a  magnificent  palace  is  here  for  such  a 
ridiculous  inhabitant! 

"Though  you  have  taken  a  resolution,  in  one  of  your 
papers,  to  avoid  descending  to  particularities  of  dress,  I 
believe  you  will  not  think  it  below  you,  on  so  extraor- 
dinary an  occasion,  to  unhoop  the  fair  sex,  and  cure  this 
fashionable  tympany  that  is  got  among  them.  I  am  apt 
to  think  the  petticoat  will  shrink  of  its  own  accord  at 
your  first  coming  to  town;  at  least  a  touch  of  your  pen 
will  make  it  contract  itself,  like  the  sensitive  plant,  and 
by  that  means  oblige  several  who  are  either  terrified  or 
astonished  at  this  portentous  novelty,  and  among  the  rest, 

"Your  humble  Servant,  &c ." 

0. 


[Spectator  No.  130.    Monday,  July  30,  1711.    Addison.} 


-Semperque  recentes 


Convectare  juvat  praedas,  et  vivere  rapto.* 

— ^Vebqil. 

As  I  was  yesterday  riding  out  in  the  fields  with  my 
friend  Sir  Eoger,  we  saw  at  a  little  distance  from  us  a 
troop  of  gipsies.  Upon  the  first  discovery  of  them,  my 
friend  was  in  some  doubt  whether  he  should  not  exert 
the  justice  of  the  peace  upon  such  a  band  of  lawless 
vagrants;  but  not  having  his  clerk  with  him,  who  is  a 
necessary  counselor  on  these  occasions,  and  fearing  that 
his  poultry  might  fare  the  worse  for  it,  he  let  the  thought 
drop;  but  at  the  same  time  gave  me  a  particular  account 
of  the  mischiefs  they  do  in  the  country,  in  stealing  peo- 

*  "A  plundering  race,  stiU  eager  to  invade, 
On  spoil  they  live,  and  make  of  theft  a  trade." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  245 

ple^s  goods  and  spoiling  their  servants.  "If  a  stray  piece 
of  linen  hangs  upon  an  hedge,"  says  Sir  Eoger,  "they  are 
sure  to  have  it;  if  the  hog  loses  his  way  in  the  fields,  it 
is  ten  to  one  but  he  becomes  their  prey;  our  geese  cannot 
live  in  peace  for  them;  if  a  man  prosecutes  them  with 
severity,  his  hen-roost  is  sure  to  pay  for  it.  They  gen- 
erally straggle  into  these  parts  about  this  time  of  the 
year,  and  set  the  heads  of  our  servant-maids  so  agog  for 
husbands  that  we  do  not  expect  to  have  any  business  done 
as  it  should  be  whilst  they  are  in  the  country.  I  have  an 
honest  dairy-maid  who  crosses  their  hands  with  a  piece 
of  silver  every  summer,  and  never  fails  being  promised 
the  handsomest  young  fellow  in  the  parish  for  her  pains. 
Your  friend,  the  butler,  has  been  fool  enough  to  be 
seduced  by  them;  and,  though  he  is  sure  to  lose  a  knife, 
a  fork,  or  a  spoon  every  time  his  fortune  is  told  him, 
generally  shuts  himself  up  in  the  pantry  with  an  old  gipsy 
for  above  half  an  hour  once  in  a  twelvemonth.  Sweet- 
hearts are  the  things  they  live  upon,  which  they  bestow 
very  plentifully  upon  all  those  that  apply  themselves  to 
them.  You  see,  now  and  then,  some  handsome  young 
jades  among  them;  the  sluts  have  very  often  white  teeth 
and  black  eyes." 

Sir  Eoger,  observing  that  I  listened  with  great  atten- 
tion to  his  account  of  a  people  who  were  so  entirely  new 
to  me,  told  me  that  if  I  would  they  should  tell  us  our 
fortunes.  As  I  was  very  well  pleased  with  the  knight's 
proposal,  we  rid  up  and  communicated  our  hands  to  them. 
A  Cassandra  of  the  crew,  after  having  examined  my  lines 
very  diligently,  told  me  that  I  loved  a  pretty  maid  in  a 
corner ;  that  I  was  a  good  woman's  man ;  with  some  other 
particulars  which  I  do  not  think  proper  to  relate.  My 
friend  Sir  Eoger  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  exposing 
his  palm  to  two  or  three  that  stood  by  him,  they  crumpled 
it  into  all  shapes,  and  diligently  scanned  every  wrinkle 
that  could  be  made  in  it;  when  one  of  them,  who  was 
older  and  more  sunburnt  than  the  rest,  told  him  that  he 
had  a  widow  in  his  line  of  life;  upon  which  the  knight 


246  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

cried,  "Go,  go,  you  are  an  idle  baggage" ;  and  at  the  same 
time  smiled  upon  me.  The  gipsy,  finding  he  was  not 
displeased  in  his  heart,  told  him,  after  a  farther  inquiry 
into  his  hand,  that  his  true  love  was  constant,  and  that 
she  should  dream  of  him  to-night;  my  old  friend  cried 
"Pish!"  and  bid  her  go  on.  The  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  still 
repeated  she  was  an  idle  baggage,  and  bid  her  go  on. 
"Ah,  master,"  says  the  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  uncouth  gibberish 
with  which  all  this  was  uttered,  like  the  darkness  of  an 
oracle,  made  us  the  more  attentive  to  it.  To  be  sure,  the 
knight  left  the  money  with  her  that  he  had  crossed  her 
hand  with,  and  got  up  again  on  his  horse. 

As  we  were  riding  away.  Sir  Roger  told  me  that  he 
knew  several  sensible  people  who  believed  these  gipsies 
now  and  then  foretold  very  strange  things;  and  for  half 
an  hour  together  appeared  more  jocund  than  ordinary. 
In  the  height  of  his  good  humor,  meeting  a  common  beg- 
gar upon  the  road  who  was  no  conjurer,  as  he  went  to 
relieve  him  he  found  his  pocket  was  picked, — ^that  being 
a  kind  of  palmistry  at  which  this  race  of  vermin  are  very 
dexterous. 

I  might  here  entertain  my  reader  with  historical  re- 
marks on  this  idle,  profligate  people,  who  infest  all  the 
countries  of  Europe,  and  live  in  the  midst  of  governments 
in  a  kind  of  commonwealth  by  themselves.  But  instead 
of  entering  into  observations  of  this  nature,  I  shall  fill 
the  remaining  part  of  my  paper  with  a  story  which  is  still 
fresh  in  Holland,  and  was  printed  in  one  of  our  monthly 
accounts  about  twenty  years  ago: — 

"As  the  treJcschuytj  or  hackney  boat,  which  carries  pas- 
sengers from  Leyden  to  Amsterdam,  was  putting  off,  a 
boy  running  along  the  side  of  the  canal  desired  to  be 
taken  in;  which  the  master  of  the  boat  refused,  because 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  247 

the  lad  had  not  quite  money  enough  to  pay  the  usual 
fare.  An  eminent  merchant  being  pleased  with  the  looks 
of  the  boy,  and  secretly  touched  with  compassion  towards 
him,  paid  the  money  for  him,  and  ordered  him  to  be  taken 
on  board. 

"Upon  talking  with  him  afterward,  he  found  that  he 
could  speak  readily  in  three  or  four  languages,  and  learned 
upon  farther  examination  that  he  had  been  stolen  away 
when  he  was  a  child,  by  a  gipsy,  and  had  rambled  ever 
since  with  a  gang  of  those  strollers  up  and  down  several 
parts  of  Europe.  It  happened  that  the  merchant,  whose 
heart  seems  to  have  inclined  toward  the  boy  by  a  secret 
kind  of  instinct,  had  himself  lost  a  child  some  years 
before.  The  parents,  after  a  long  search  for  him,  gave 
him  for  drowned  in  one  of  the  canals  with  which  that 
country  abounds;  and  the  mother  was  so  afflicted  at  the 
loss  of  a  fine  boy,  who  was  her  only  son,  that  she  died 
for  grief  of  it. 

^'Upon  laying  together  all  particulars,  and  examining 
the  several  moles  and  marks  by  which  the  mother  used 
to  describe  the  child  when  he  was  first  missing,  the  boy 
proved  to  be  the  son  of  the  merchant  whose  heart  had 
so  unaccountably  melted  at  the  sight  of  him.  The  lad 
was  very  well  pleased  to  find  a  father  who  was  so  rich, 
and  likely  to  leave  him  a  good  estate:  the  father,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  not  a  little  delighted  to  see  a  son  return 
to  him,  whom  he  Tiad  given  up  for  lost,  with  such  a 
strength  of  constitution,  'sharpness  of  understanding, 
and  skill  in  languages." 

Here  the  printed  story  leaves  off;  but  if  I  may  give 
credit  to  reports,  our  linguist  having  received  such  ex- 
traordinary rudiments  towards  a  good  education,  was 
afterward  trained  up  in  everything  that  becomes  a  gentle- 
man; wearing  off  by  little  and  little  all  the  vicious  habits 
and  practises  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  upon  national  business,  with 


248  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

great  reputation  to  himself  and  honor  to  those  who  sent 
him,  and  that  he  has  visited  several  countries  as  a  public 
minister  in  which  he  formerly  wandered  as  a  gipsy. 

0. 


[Spectator  No.  131.    Tuesday,  July  31,  1711.    Addison.] 

Ipsae  rursum  concedite  sylvae.* 

— ^Vergil. 

It  is  usual  for  a  man  who  loves  country  sports  to  pre- 
serve the  game  in  his  own  grounds,  and  divert  himself 
upon  those  that  belong  to  his  neighbor.  My  friend  Sir 
Eoger  generally  goes  two  or  three  miles  from  his  house, 
and  gets  into  the  frontiers  of  his  estate,  before  he  beats 
about  in  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  the  worst.  By  this 
means  the  breed  about  his  house  has  time  to  increase 
and  multiply;  besides  that  the  sport  is  the  more  agree- 
able where  the  game  is  the  harder  to  come  at,  and  where 
it  does  not  lie  so  thick  as  to  produce  any  perplexity  or 
confusion  in  the  pursuit.  For  these  reasons  the  country 
gentleman,  like  the  fox,  seldom  preys  near  his  own  home. 

In  the  same  manner  I  have  made  a  month's  excursion 
out  of  the  town,  which  is  the  great  field  of  game  for 
sportsmen  of  my  species,  to  try  my  fortune  in  the  country, 
where  I  have  started  several  subjects  and  hunted  them 
down,  with  some  pleasure  to  myself,  and  I  hope  to  others. 
I  am  here  forced  to  use  a  great  deal  of  diligence  before 
I  can  spring  anything  to  my  mind;  whereas  in  town, 
whilst  I  am  following  one  character,  it  is  ten  to  one  but 
I  am  crossed  in  my  way  by  another,  and  put  up  such  a 
variety  of  odd  creatures  in  both  sexes  that  they  foil  the 
scent  of  one  another,  and  puzzle  the  chase.  My  greatest 
difficulty  in  the  country  is  to  find  sport,  and,  in  town, 

>  "Once    more,    ye    woods,    adieu." 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  249 

to  choose  it.  In  the  meantime,  as  I  have  given  a  whole 
month's  rest  to  the  cities  of  London  and  Westminster,  I 
promise  myself  abundance  of  new  game  upon  my  return 
thither. 

It  is  indeed  high  time  for  me  to  leave  the  country,  since 
I  find  the  whole  neighborhood  begin  to  grow  very  inquisi- 
tive after  my  name  and  character;  my  love  of  solitude, 
taciturnity,  and  particular  way  of  life,  having  raised  a 
great  curiosity  in  all  these  parts. 

The  notions  which  have  been  framed  of  me  are  various : 
some  look  upon  me  as  very  proud,  some  as  very  modest, 
and  some  as  very  melancholy.  Will  Wimble,  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  that  Sir  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  go  under  in  part  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, is  what  they  here  call  a  'White  Witch," 

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

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

Such  is  the  variety  of  opinions  which  are  here  enter- 
tained of  me,  so  that  I  pass  among  some  for  a  disaffected 
person,  and  among  others  for  a  popish  priest;  among  some 
for  a  wizard,  and  among  others  for  a  murderer:  and  all 
this  for  no  other  reason,  that  I  can  imagine,  but  because 


250  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

I  do  not  hoot  and  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  not  satisfy 
them.  They  think  there  is  more  in  me  than  he  discovers, 
and  that  I  do  not  hold  my  tongue  for  nothing. 

For  these  and  other  reasons  I  shall  set  out  for  London 
to-morrow,  having  found  by  experience  that  the  country 
is  not  a  place  for  a  person  of  my  temper,  who  does  not 
love  jollity,  and  what  they  call  good  neighborhood.  .  A 
man  that  is  out  of  humor  when  an  unexpected  guest 
breaks  in  upon  him,  and  does  not  care  for  sacriiScing  an 
afternoon  to  every  chance-comer;  that  will  be  the  master 
of  his  own  time,  and  the  pursuer  of  his  own  inclinations, 
makes  but  a  very  unsociable  figure  in  this  kind  of  life. 
I  shall  therefore  retire  into  the  town,  if  I  may  make  use 
of  that  phrase,  and  get  into  the  crowd  again  as  fast  as 
I  can,  in  order  to  be  alone.  I  can  there  raise  what  specu- 
lations I  please  upon  others,  without  being  observed  my- 
self, and  at  the  same  time  enjoy  all  the  advantages  of 
company  with  all  the  privileges  of  solitude.  In  the  mean- 
while, to  finish  the  month,  and  conclude  these  my  rural 
speculations,  I  shall  here  insert  a  letter  from  my  friend 
Will  Honeycomb,  who  has  not  lived  a  month  for  these 
forty  years  out  of  the  smoke  of  London,  and  rallies  me 
after  his  way  upon  my  country  life. 

^^Dear  Spec, — 

I  suppose  this  letter  will  find  thee  picking  of  daisies,  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.  Pr'ythee  don't  send  us 
up  any  more  stories  of  a  cock  and  a  bull,  nor  frighten  the 
town  with  spirits  and  witches.  Thy  speculations  begin  to 
smell  confoundedly  of  woods  and  meadows.  If  thou  dost 
not  come  up  quickly,  we  shall  conclude  that  thou  art  in 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  851 

love  with  one   of   Sir  Roger's   dairy-maids.     Service   to 
the  night.     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. 
"Dear  Spec,  thine  eternally, 
C.  "Will  Honeycomb." 


[Spectator  No.  132.     Wednesday,  August  1,  1711. 
Steele.] 

Qui  aut  tempus  quid  postulet  non  videt,  aut  plura  loquitur, 
aut  se  ostentat,  aut  eorum  quibuscum  est  rationem  non  habet, 
is  ineptus  esse  dicitur.*  — Tully. 

Having  notified  to  my  good  friend  Sir  Roger  that  I 
should  set  out  for  London  the  next  day,  his  horses  were 
ready  at  the  appointed  hour  in  the  evening;  and  attended 
by  one  of  his  grooms,  I  arrived  at  the  country-town  at 
twilight,  in  order  to  be  ready  for  the  stage-coach  the  day 
following.  As  soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  inn,  the  servant 
who  waited  upon  me,  inquired  of  the  chamberlain,  in  my 
hearing,  what  company  he  had  for  the  coach.  The  fellow 
answered,  "Mrs.  Betty  Arable,  the  great  fortune,  and  the 
widow,  her  mother;  a  recruiting  officer  (who  took  a  place 
because  they  were  to  go) ;  young  Squire  Quickset,  her 
cousin  (that  her  mother  wished  her  to  be  married  to) ; 
Ephraim,  the  Quaker,  her  guardian ;  and  a  gentleman  that 
had  studied  himself  dumb  from  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley's." 
I  observed,  by  what  he  said  of  myseK,  that  according  to 
his  office,  he  dealt  much  in  intelligence ;  and  doubted  not 
but  there  was  some  foundation  for  his  reports  of  the  rest 
of  the  company  as  well  as  for  the  whimsical  account  he 
gave  of  me. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  we  were  all  called;  and 

*  **That  man  may  be  caUed  impertinent,  who  considers  not  the 
circumstances  of  time,  or  engrosses  the  conversation,  or  makes 
himself  the  subject  of  his  discourse,  or  pays  no  regard  to  the 
company  he  is  in." 


252  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

I,  who  know  my  own  natural  shyness,  and  endeavor  to  be 
as  little  liable  to  be  disputed  with  as  possible,  dressed 
immediately,  that  I  might  make  no  one  wait.  The  first 
preparation  for  our  setting  out  was,  that  the  captain^s 
half-pike  was  placed  near  the  coachman,  and  a  drum 
behind  the  coach.  In  the  meantime  the  drummer,  the 
captain's  equipage,  was  very  loud  that  none  of  the  cap- 
tain's things  should  be  placed  so  as  to  be  spoiled;  upon 
which  his  cloak  bag  was  fixed  in  the  seat  of  the  coach; 
and  the  captain  himself,  according  to  a  frequent  though 
invidious  behavior  of  military  men,  ordered  his  man  to 
look  sharp  that  none  but  one  of  the  ladies  should  have  the 
place  he  had  taken  fronting  to  the  coach-box. 

We  were  in  some  little  time  fixed  in  our  seats,  and  sat 
with  that  dislike  which  people  not  too  good-natured  usually 
conceive  of  each  other  at  first  sight.  The  coach  jumbled 
us  insensibly  into  some  sort  of  familiarity,  and  we  had  not 
moved  above  two  miles  when  the  widow  asked  the  captain 
what  success  he  had  in  his  recruiting.  The  officer,  with  a 
frankness  he  believed  very  graceful,  told  her  that  indeed 
he  had  but  very  little  luck  and  had  suffered  much  by 
desertion,  therefore  should  be  glad  to  end  his  warfare 
in  the  service  of  her  or  her  fair  daughter.  ^T.n  sl  word," 
continued  he,  ^^I  am  a  soldier,  and  to  be  plain  is  my  char- 
acter; you  see  me,  madam,  young,  sound,  and  impudent; 
take  me  yourself,  widow,  or  give  me  to  her;  I  will  be 
wholly  at  your  disposal.  I  am  a  soldier  of  fortune,  ha!" 
This  was  followed  by  a  vain  laugh  of  his  own,  and  a  deep 
silence  of  all  the  rest  of  the  company.  I  had  nothing 
left  for  it  but  to  fall  fast  asleep,  which  I  did  with  all 
speed.  ^^Come,"  said  he,  ^^resolve  upon  it,  we  will  make 
a  wedding  at  the  next  town;  we  will  wake  this  pleasant 
companion  who  has  fallen  asleep,  to  be  the  brideman, 
and,"  giving  the  Quaker  a  clap  on  the  knee,  he  concluded, 
^'this  sly  saint,  who,  I'll  warrant,  understands  what's  what 
as  well  as  you  or  I,  widow,  shall  give  the  bride  as  father." 

The  Quaker,  who  happened  to  be  a  man  of  smartness, 
answered,  "Friend,  I  take  it  in  good  part,  that  thou  hast 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  253 

given  me  the  authority  of  a  father  over  this  comely  and 
virtuous  child;  and  I  must  assure  thee  that,  if  I  have  the 
giving  her,  I  shall  not  bestow  her  on  thee.  Thy  mirth, 
friend,  savoreth  of  folly ;  thou  art  a  person  of  a  light  mind ; 
thy  drum  is  a  type  of  thee — it  soundeth  because  it  is 
empty.  Yerily,  it  is  not  from  thy  fulness  but  thy  empti- 
ness that  thou  hast  spoken  this  day.  Eriend,  friend,  we 
have  hired  this  coach  in  partnership  with  thee,  to  carry 
us  to  a  great  city;  we  cannot  go  any  other  way.  This 
worthy  mother  must  hear  thee  if  thou  wilt  needs  utter 
thy  follies ;  we  cannot  help  it,  friend,  I  say — if  thou  wilt, 
we  must  hear  thee;  but,  if  thou  wert  a  man  of  under- 
standing, thou  wouldst  not  take  advantage  of  thy  coura- 
geous countenance  to  abash  us  children  of  peace.  Thou 
art,  thou  say  est,  a  soldier;  give  quarter  to  us,  who  cannot 
resist  thee.  Why  didst  thou  fleer  at  our  friend,  who 
feigned  himself  asleep?  He  said  nothing,  but  how  dost 
thou  know  what  he  containeth?  If  thou  speakest  im- 
proper things  in  the  hearing  of  this  virtuous  young  virgin, 
consider  it  is  an  outrage  against  a  distressed  person  that 
cannot  get  from  thee:  to  speak  indiscreetly  what  we  are 
obliged  to  hear,  by  being  hasped  up  with  thee  in  this 
public  vehicle,  is  in  some  degree  assaulting  on  the  high 
road." 

Here  Ephraim  paused,  and  the  captain,  with  an  happy 
and  uncommon  impudence,  which  can  be  convicted  and 
support  itself  at  the  same  time,  cries,  "Faith,  friend,  I 
thank  thee;  I  should  have  been  a  little  impertinent  if 
thou  hadst  not  reprimanded  me.  Come,  thou  art,  I  see, 
a  smoky  old  fellow,  and  PU  be  very  orderly  the  ensuing 
part  of  the  journey.  I  was  going  to  give  myself  airs, 
but,  ladies,  I  beg  pardon." 

The  captain  was  so  little  out  of  humor,  and  our  com- 
pany was  so  far  from  being  soured  by  this  little  ruffle, 
that  Ephraim  and  he  took  a  particular  delight  in  being 
agreeable  to  each  other  for  the  future,  and  assumed  their 
different  provinces  in  the  conduct  of  the  company.  Our 
reckonings,   apartments,   and   accommodation  fell  under 


254  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Epiiraim;  and  the  captain  looked  to  all  disputes  on  the 
road,  as  the  good  behavior  of  our  coachman,  and  the  right 
we  had  of  taking  place,  as  going  to  London,  of  all 
vehicles  coming  from  thence. 

The  occurrences  we  met  with  were  ordinary,  and  very 
little  happened  which  could  entertain  by  the  relation  of 
them;  but  when  I  considered  the  company  we  were  in, 
I  took  it  for  no  small  good  fortune  that  the  whole  journey 
was  not  spent  in  impertinences,  which  to  one  part  of  us 
might  be  an  entertainment,  to  the  other  a  suffering. 

What,  therefore,  Ephraim  said  when  we  were  almost 
arrived  at  London,  had  to  me  an  air  not  only  of  good 
understanding  but  good  breeding.  Upon  the  young  lady's 
expressing  her  satisfaction  in  the  journey,  and  declaring 
how  delightful  it  had  been  to  her,  Ephraim  declared  him- 
self as  follows :  ^^There  is  no  ordinary  part  of  human  life 
which  expresseth  so  much  a  good  mind,  and  a  right  in- 
ward man,  as  his  behavior  upon  meeting  with  strangers, 
especially  such  as  may  seem  the  most  unsuitable  com- 
panions to  him;  such  a  man,  when  he  falleth  in  the  way 
with  persons  of  simplicity  and  innocence,  however  know- 
ing he  may  be  in  the  ways  of  men,  will  not  vaunt  himself 
thereof;  but  will  the  rather  hide  his  superiority  to  them, 
that  he  may  not  be  painful  unto  them.  My  good  friend," 
continued  he,  turning  to  the  officer,  "thee  and  I  are  to 
part  by  and  by,  and  peradventure  we  may  never  meet 
again ;  but  be  advised  by  a  plain  man :  modes  and  apparel 
are  but  trifles  to  the  real  man,  therefore  do  not  think 
such  a  man  as  thyself  terrible  for  thy  garb,  nor  such  a 
one  as  me  contemptible  for  mine.  When  two  such  as 
thee  and  I  meet,  with  affections  as  we  ought  to  have 
toward  each  other,  thou  shouldst  rejoice  to  see  my  peace- 
able demeanor,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  see  thy  strength 
and  ability  to  protect  me  in  it,"  T. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  255 

[Spectator  No.   135.     Saturday,  August  4,  1711. 

Addison.] 

Est  brevitate  opus,  ut  currat   sententia.* — HoB. 

I  have  somewhere  read  of  an  eminent  person,  who  used 
in  his  private  offices  of  devotion  to  give  thanks  to  heaven 
that  he  was  born  a  Frenchman:  for  my  own  part  I  look 
upon  it  as  a  peculiar  blessing  that  I  was  born  an  English- 
man. Among  many  other  reasons,  I  think  myself  very 
happy  in  my  country,  as  the  language  of  it  is  wonderfully 
adapted  to  a  man  who  is  sparing  of  his  words,  and  an 
enemy  to  loquacity. 

As  I  have  frequently  reflected  on  my  good  fortune  in 
this  particular,  I  shall  communicate  to  the  public  my 
speculations  upon  the  English  tongue,  not  doubting  but 
they  will  be  acceptable  to  all  my  curious  readers. 

The  English  delight  in  silence  more  than  any  other 
European  nation,  if  the  remarks  which  are  made  on  us 
by  foreigners  are  true.  Our  discourse  is  not  kept  up  in 
conversation,  but  falls  into  more  pauses  and  intervals 
than  in  our  neighboring  countries;  as  it  is  observed,  that 
the  matter  of  our  writings  is  thrown  much  closer  to- 
gether, and  lies  in  a  narrower  compass  than  is  usual  in  the 
works  of  foreign  authors :  for,  to  favor  our  natural  taci- 
turnity, when  we  are  obliged  to  utter  our  thoughts,  we 
do  it  in  the  shortest  way  we  are  able,  and  give  as  quick  a 
birth  to  our  conceptions  as  possible. 

This  humor  shows  itself  in  several  remarks  that  we 
may  make  upon  the  English  language.  As  first  of  all  by 
its  abounding  in  monosyllables,  which  gives  us  an  op- 
portunity of  delivering  our  thoughts  in  few  sounds.  This 
indeed  takes  off  from  the  elegance  of  our  tongue,  but  at 
the  same  time  expresses  our  ideas  in  the  readiest  man- 
ner, and  consequently  answers  the  first  design  of  speech 
better  than  the  multitude  of  syllables,  which  make  the 
words  of  other  languages  more  tuneable  and  sonorous. 

*  Express  your  sentiments  with  brevity. 


256  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

The  sounds  of  our  English  words  are  commonly  like  those 
of  string  music,  short  and  transient,  which  rise  and  per- 
ish upon  a  single  touch;  those  of  other  languages  are 
like  the  notes  of  wind  instruments,  sweet  and  swelling, 
and  lengthened  out  into  variety  of  modulation. 

In  the  next  place  we  may  observe,  that  where  the  words 
are  not  monosyllables,  we  often  make  them  so,  as  much 
as  lies  in  our  power,  by  our  rapidity  of  pronunciation; 
as  it  generally  happens  in  most  of  our  long  words  which 
are  derived  from  the  Latin,  where  we  contract  the  length 
of  the  syllables  that  gives  them  a  grave  and  solemn  air 
in  their  own  language,  to  make  them  more  proper  for 
dispatch,  and  more  comfortable  to  the  genius  of  our 
tongue.  This  we  may  find  in  a  multitude  of  words,  as 
"liberty,"  "conspiracy,"  "theater,"  "orator,"  etc. 

The  same  natural  aversion  to  loquacity  has  of  late 
years  made  a  very  considerable  alteration  in  our  lan- 
guage, by  closing  in  one  syllable  the  termination  of  our 
preterperfect  tense,  as  in  the  words  "drown'd,"  "walk'd," 
"arriVd,"  for  "drowned,"  "walked,"  "arrived,"  which  has 
very  much  disfigured  the  tongue,  and  turned  a  tenth  part 
of  our  smoothest  words  into  so  many  clusters  of  con- 
sonants. This  is  the  more  remarkable,  because  the  want 
of  vowels  in  our  language  has  been  the  general  complaint 
of  our  politest  authors,  who  nevertheless  are  the  men 
that  have  made  these  retrenchments,  and  consequently 
very  much  increased  our  former  scarcity. 

This  reflexion  on  the  words  that  end  in  "ed,"  I  have 
heard  in  conversation  from  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses 
this  age  has  produced.  I  think  we  may  add  to  the  fore- 
going observation,  the  change  which  has  happened  in  our 
language,  by  the  abbreviation  of  several  words  that  are 
terminated  in  "eth,"  by  substituting  an  "s"  in  the  room 
of  the  last  syllable,  as  in  "drowns,"  "walks,"  "arrives," 
and  innumerable  other  words,  which  in  the  pronunciation 
of  our  forefathers  were  "drowneth,"  "walketh,"  "arriv- 
eth."  This  has  wonderfully  multiplied  a  letter  which  was 
before  too  frequent  in  the  English  tongue,  and  added  to 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  257 

that  hissing  in  our  language,  which  is  taken  so  much  no- 
tice of  by  foreigners;  but  at  the  same  time  humors  our 
taciturnity,  and  eases  us  of  many  superfluous  syllables. 

I  might  here  observe,  that  the  same  single  letter  on 
many  occasions  does  the  office  of  a  whole  word,  and  rep- 
resents the  "his''  and  "her"  of  our  forefathers.  There  is 
no  doubt  but  the  ear  of  a  foreigner,  which  is  the  best 
judge  in  this  case,  would  very  much  disapprove  of  such 
innovations,  which  indeed  we  do  ourselves  in  some  meas- 
ure, by  retaining  the  old  termination  in  writing,  and  in 
all  the  solemn  offices  of  our  religion. 

As  in  the  instances  I  have  given  we  have  epitomized 
many  of  our  particular  words  to  the  detriment  of  our 
tongue,  so  on  other  occasions  we  have  drawn  two  words 
into  one,  which  has  likewise  very  much  untuned  our  lan- 
guage, and  clogged  it  with  consonants,  as  "mayn't," 
"can't,"  ''shan't,"  "won't,"  and  the  like,  for  "may  not," 
"can  not,"  "shall  not,"  "will  not,"  etc. 

It  is  perhaps  this  humor  of  speaking  no  more  than 
we  needs  must,  which  has  so  miserably  curtailed  some  of 
our  words,  that  in  familiar  writings  and  conversations 
they  often  lose  all  but  their  first  syllables,  as  in  "mob," 
"rep."  "pos."  "incog."  and  the  like;  and  as  all  ridiculous 
words  make  their  first  entry  into  a  language  by  familiar 
phrases,  I  dare  not  answer  for  these  that  they  will  not 
in  time  be  looked  upon  as  a  part  of  our  tongue.  We  see 
some  of  our  poets  have  been  so  indiscreet  as  to  imitate 
Hudibras's  doggerel  expressions  in  their  serious  compo- 
sitions, by  throwing  out  the  signs  of  our  substantives, 
which  are  essential  to  the  English  language.  Nay,  this 
humor  of  shortening  our  language  had  once  run  so  far, 
that  some  of  our  celebrated  authors,  among  whom  we  may 
reckon  Sir  Eoger  L'Estrange  in  particular,  began  to 
prune  their  words  of  all  superfluous  letters,  as  they 
termed  them,  in  o.rder  to  adjust  the  spelling  to  the  pro- 
nunciation; which  would  have  confounded  all  our  ety- 
mologies, and  have  quite  destroyed  our  tongue. 

We  may  here  likewise  observe,  that  our  proper  names, 


268  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

when  familiarized  in  English,  generally  dwindle  to  mono- 
syllables, whereas  in  other  modern  languages,  they  re- 
ceive a  softer  turn  on  this  occasion,  by  the  addition  of 
a  new  syllable.  ^^Nick"  in  Italian  is  ^^Nicolini,"  "Jack" 
in  French  "Janot,"  and  so  of  the  rest. 

There  is  another  particular  in  our  language  which  is 
a  great  instance  of  our  frugality  in  words,  and  that  is 
the  suppressing  of  several  particles  which  must  be  pro- 
duced in  other  tongues  to  make  a  sentence  intelligible: 
this  often  perplexes  the  best  writers,  when  they  find  the 
relatives  "whom,"  "which,"  or  "they,"  at  their  mercy 
whether  they  may  have  admission  or  not;  and  will  never 
be  decided  till  we  have  something  like  an  academy,  that 
by  the  best  authorities  and  rules  drawn  from  the  analogy 
of  languages,  shall  settle  all  controversies  between  gram- 
mar and  idiom. 

I  have  only  considered  our  language  as  it  shows  the 
genius  and  natural  temper  of  the  English,  which  is  mod- 
est, thoughtful  and  sincere,  and  which  perhaps  may  recom- 
mend the  people,  though  it  has  spoiled  the  tongue.  We 
might  perhaps  carry  the  same  thought  into  other  lan- 
guages, and  deduce  a  great  part  of  what  is  peculiar  to 
them  from  the  genius  of  the  people  who  speak  them.  It 
is  certain  the  light  talkative  humor  of  the  French  has 
not  a  little  infected  their  tongue,  which  might  be  shown 
by  many  instances ;  as  the  genius  of  the  Italians,  which  is 
so  much  addicted  to  music  and  ceremony,  has  molded  all 
their  words  and  phrases  to  those  particular  uses.  The 
stateliness  and  gravity  of  the  Spaniards  shows  itself  to 
perfection  in  the  solemnity  of  their  language;  and  the 
blunt  honest  humor  of  the  Germans  sounds  better  in  the 
roughness  of  the  High-Dutch,  than  it  would  in  a  politer 
tongue. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  259 


[Spectator  No.  169.    Saturday,  September  1,  1711. 
Addison.] 

— Omnem,  quae  nunc  obducta  tuenti 

Mortales  hebetat  visus  tibi,  et  bumida  circum 

Caligat,  nubem  eripiam — * 

— ViRG.  ^n.  ii.  604. 

When  I  was  at  Grand  Cairo,  I  picked  up  several  Ori- 
ental manuscripts,  wbich  I  have  still  by  me.  Among  oth- 
ers I  met  with  one  entitled  The  Visions  of  Mirza,  which 
I  have  read  over  with  great  pleasure.  I  intend  to  give  it 
to  the  public  when  I  have  no  other  entertainment  for 
them;  and  shall  begin  with  the  first  vision,  which  I  have 
translated  word  for  word  as  follows: — 

"On  the  fifth  day  of  the  moon,  which  according  to  the 
custom  of  my  forefathers  I  always  keep  holy,  after  hav- 
ing washed  myself,  and  offered  up  my  morning  devo- 
tions, I  ascended  the  high  hills  of  Bagdad,  in  order  to 
pass  the  rest  of  the  day  in  meditation  and  prayer.  As  I 
was  here  airing  myself  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  I 
fell  into  a  profound  contemplation  on  the  vanity  of  hu- 
man life;  and  passing  from  one  thought  to  another, 
^Surely,'  said  I,  ^man  is  but  a  shadow,  and  life  a  dream.' 
Whilst  I  was  thus  musing,  I  cast  my  eyes  towards  the 
summit  of  a  rock  that  was  not  far  from  me,  where  I  dis- 
covered one  in  the  habit  of  a  shepherd,  with  a  musical 
instrument  in  his  hand.  As  I  looked  upon  him  he  ap- 
plied it  to  his  lips,  and  began  to  play  upon  it.  The 
sound  of  it  was  exceedingly  sweet,  and  wrought  into  a 
variety  of  tunes  that  were  inexpressibly  melodious,  and 
altogether  different  from  anything  I  had  ever  heard.  They 
put  me  in  mind  of  those  heavenly  airs  that  are  played 
to  the  departed  souls  of  good  men  upon  their  first  arrival 
in  Paradise,  to  wear  out  the  impressions  of  their  last 

*The  cloud,  which,  intercepting  the  clear  light, 
Hangs  o'er  thy  eyes,  and  blunts  thy  mortal  sight, 
I  will  remove — 


260  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

agonies,  and  qualify  them  for  the  pleasures  of  that  happy 
place.     My  heart  melted  away  in  secret  raptures. 

"I  had  been  often  told  that  the  rock  before  me  was  the 
haunt  of  a  Genius;  and  that  several  had  been  entertained 
with  music  who  had  passed  by  it,  but  never  heard  that 
the  musician  had  before  made  himself  visible.  When  he 
had  raised  my  thoughts  by  those  transporting  airs  which 
he  played  to  taste  the  pleasures  of  his  conversation,  as  I 
looked  upon  him  like  one  astonished,  he  beckoned  to  me, 
and  by  the  waving  of  his  hand  directed  me  to  approach 
the  place  where  he  sat.  I  drew  near  with  that  reverence 
which  is  due  to  a  superior  nature;  and  as  my  heart  was 
entirely  subdued  by  the  captivating  strains  I  had  heard,  I 
fell  down  at  his  feet  and  wept.  The  Genius  smiled  upon 
me  with  a  look  of  compassion  and  affability  that  familiar- 
ized him  to  my  imagination,  and  at  once  dispelled  all  the 
fears  and  apprehensions  with  which  I  approached  him. 
He  lifted  me  from  the  ground,  and  taking  me  by  the 
hand,  ^Mirza,'  said  he,  ^I  have  heard  thee  in  thy  solilo- 
quies; follow  me.' 

"He  then  led  me  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  rock, 
and  placing  me  on  the  top  of  it,  ^Cast  thy  eyes  eastward,' 
said  he,  'and  tell  me  what  thou  seest.'  'I  see,'  said  I,  *a 
huge  valley,  and  a  prodigious  tide  of  water  rolling  through 
it.'  'The  valley  that  thou  seest,'  said  he,  'is  the  Vale  of 
Misery,  and  the  tide  of  water  that  thou  seest  is  part  of 
the  great  Tide  of  Eternity.'  'What  is  the  reason,'  said 
I,  'that  the  tide  I  see  rises  out  of  a  thick  mist  at  one  end, 
and  again  loses  itself  in  a  thick  mist  at  the  other?' 
'What  thou  seest,'  said  he,  'is  that  portion  of  eternity 
which  is  called  time,  measured  out  by  the  sun,  and 
reaching  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  its  consum- 
mation. Examine  now,'  said  he,  'this  sea  that  is  bounded 
with  darkn^s  at  both  ends,  and  tell  me  what  thou  dis- 
coverest  in  it.'  'I  see  a  bridge,'  said  I,  'standing  in  the 
midst  of  the  tide.'  'The  bridge  thou  seest,'  said  he,  'is 
Human  Life:  consider  it  attentively.'  Upon  a  more 
leisurely  survey  of  it,  I  found  that  it  consisted  of  three- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  261 

score  and  ten  entire  arches,  with  several  broken  arches, 
which  added  to  those  that  were  entire,  made  up  the  num- 
ber about  a  hundred.  As  I  was  counting  the  arches,  the 
Genius  told  me  that  this  bridge  consisted  at  first  of  a 
thousand  arches;  but  that  a  great  flood  swept  away  the 
rest,  and  left  the  bridge  in  the  ruinous  condition  I  now 
beheld  it.  ^But  tell  me  farther,'  said  he,  Vhat  thou  dis- 
coverest  on  it.'  'I  see  multitudes  of  people  passing  over 
it,'  said  I,  ^and  a  black  cloud  hanging  on  each  end  of  it/ 
As  I  looked  more  attentively,  I  saw  several  of  the  pas- 
sengers dropping  through  the  bridge  into  the  great  tide 
that  flowed  underneath  it;  and  upon  farther  examina- 
tion, perceived  there  were  innumerable  trap-doors  that  lay 
concealed  in  the  bridge,  which  the  passengers  no  sooner 
trod  upon,  but  they  fell  through  them  into  the  tide,  and 
immediately  disappeared.  These  hidden  pitfalls  were  set 
very  thick  at  the  entrance  of  the  bridge,  so  that  throngs 
of  people  no  sooner  broke  through  the  cloud,  but  many 
of  them  fell  into  them.  They  grew  thinner  towards  the 
middle,  but  multiplied  and  lay  closer  together  towards  the 
end  of  the  arches  that  were  entire. 

"There  were  indeed  some  persons,  but  their  number 
was  very  small,  that  continued  a  kind  of  hobbling  march 
on  the  broken  arches,  but  fell  through  one  after  another, 
being  quite  tired  and  spent  with  so  long  a  walk. 

"I  passed  some  time  in  the  contemplation  of  this  won- 
derful structure,  and  the  great  variety  of  objects  which 
it  presented.  My  heart  was  filled  with  a  deep  melancholy 
to  see  several  dropping  unexpectedly  in  the  midst  of  mirth 
and  jollity,  and  catching  at  everything  that  stood  by  them 
to  save  themselves.  Some  were  looking  up  towards  the 
heavens  in  a  thoughtful  posture,  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
speculation  stumbled  and  fell  out  of  sight.  Multitudes 
were  very  busy  in  the  pursuit  of  bubbles  that  glittered  in 
their  eyes  and  danced  before  them;  but  often  when  they 
thought  themselves  within  the  reach  of  them,  their  foot- 
ing failed  and  down  they  sunk.  In  this  confusion  of  ob- 
jects, I  observed  some  with  scimitars  in  their  hands,  and 


262  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

others  with  urinals,  wlio  ran  to  and  fro  upon  the  bridge, 
thrusting  several  persons  on  trap-doors  which  did  not 
seem  to  lie  in  their  way,  and  which  they  might  have  es- 
caped had  they  not  been  thus  forced  upon  them. 

"The  Genius  seeing  me  indulge  myself  on  this  melan- 
choly prospect,  told  me  I  had  dwelt  long  enough  upon  it. 
'Take  thine  eyes  off  the  bridge,'  said  he,  ^and  tell  me  if 
thou  yet  seest  anything  thou  dost  not  comprehend.'  Upon 
looking  up,  What  mean,'  said  I,  'those  great  flights  of 
birds  that  are  perpetually  hovering  about  the  bridge,  and 
settling  upon  it  from  time  to  time?  I  see  vultures, 
harpies,  ravens,  cormorants,  and  among  many  other  feath- 
ered creatures  several  little  winged  boys,  that  perch  in 
great  numbers  upon  the  middle  arches/  'These,'  said  the 
Genius,  'are  Envy,  Avarice,  Superstition,  Despair,  Love, 
with  the  like  cares  and  passions  that  infest  human  life.' 

"I  here  fetched  a  deep  sigh.  'Alas,'  said  I,  'Man  was 
made  in  vain!  how  is  he  given  away  to  misery  and  mor- 
tality! tortured  in  life,  and  swallowed  up  in  death!'  The 
Genius  being  moved  with  compassion  towards  me,  bid  me 
quit  so  uncomfortable  a  prospect.  'Look  no  more,'  said 
he,  'on  man  in  the  first  stage  of  his  existence,  in  his  set- 
ting out  for  eternity ;  but  cast  thine  eye  on  that  thick  mist 
into  which  the  tide  bears  the  several  generations  of  mor- 
tals that  fall  into  it.'  I  directed  my  sight  as  I  was  or- 
dered, and  (whether  or  no  the  good  Genius  strengthened 
it  with  any  supernatural  force,  or  dissipated  part  of  the 
mist  that  was  before  too  thick  for  the  eye  to  penetrate) 
I  saw  the  valley  opening  at  the  farther  end,  and  spread- 
ing forth  into  an  immense  ocean,  that  had  a  huge  rock 
of  adamant  running  through  the  midst  of  it,  and  divid- 
ing it  into  two  equal  parts.  The  clouds  still  rested  on  one 
half  of  it,  insomuch  that  I  could  discover  nothing  in  it; 
but  the  other  appeared  to  me  a  vast  ocean  planted  with 
innumerable  islands,  that  were  covered  with  fruits  and 
flowers,  and  interwoven  with  a  thousand  little  shining 
seas  that  ran  among  them.  I  could  see  persons  dressed 
in  glorious  habits  with  garlands  upon  their  heads,  pass- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  263 

ing  among  the  trees,  lying  down  by  the  sides  of  fountains, 
or  resting  on  beds  of  flowers;  and  could  hear  a  confused 
harmony  of  singing  birds,  falling  waters,  human  voices, 
and  musical  instruments.  Gladness  grew  in  me  upon  the 
discovery  of  so  delightful  a  scene.  I  wished  for  the  wings 
of  an  eagle,  that  I  might  fly  away  to  those  happy  seats; 
but  the  Genius  told  me  there  was  no  passage  to  them, 
except  through  the  gates  of  death  that  I  saw  opening 
every  moment  upon  the  bridge.  ^The  islands,'  said  he, 
'that  lie  so  fresh  and  green  before  thee,  and  with  which 
the  whole  face  of  the  ocean  appears  spotted  as  far  as  thou 
canst  see,  are  more  in  number  than  the  sands  on  the  sea- 
shore: there  are  myriads  of  islands  behind  those  which 
thou  here  discoverest,  reaching  farther  than  thine  eye, 
or  even  thine  imagination  can  extend  itself.  These  are 
the  mansions  of  good  men  after  death,  who,  according  to- 
the  degree  and  kinds  of  virtue  in  which  they  excelled, 
are  distributed  among  these  several  islands,  which  abound 
with  pleasures  of  different  kinds  and  degrees,  suitable  to 
the  relishes  and  perfections  of  those  who  are  settled  in 
them:  every  island  is  a  paradise  accommodated  to  its 
respective  inhabitants.  Are  not  these,  O  Mirza,  habi- 
tations worth  contending  for?  Does  life  appear  miser- 
able that  gives  thee  opportunities  of  earning  such  a  re- 
ward? Is  death  to  be  feared  that  will  convey  thee  to  so 
happy  an  existence?  Think  not  man  was  made  in  vain, 
who  has  such  an  eternity  reserved  for  him.'  I  gazed  with 
inexpressible  pleasure  on  these  happy  islands.  At  length, 
said  I,  'Show  me  now,  I  beseech  thee,  the  secrets  that  lie 
hid  under  those  dark  clouds  which  cover  the  ocean  on  the 
other  side  of  the  rock  of  adamant.'  The  Genius  making 
me  no  answer,  I  turned  me  about  to  address  myself  to  him 
a  second  time,  but  I  found  that  he  had  left  me;  I  then 
turned  again  to  the  vision  which  I  had  been  so  long  con- 
templating; but  instead  of  the  rolling  tide,  the  arched 
bridge,  and  the  happy  islands,  I  saw  nothing  but  the  long 
hollow  valley  of  Bagdad,  with  oxen,  sheep,  and  camels 
grazing  upon  the  sides  of  it."  0. 


264  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 


[Spectator  No.  165.    Saturday,  September  8,  1711. 
Addison.] 

8i  forte  necesse  est, 
Fingere  cinctutis  non  exavdita  Cethegis, 
Contmget:  ddbitv/rque  licentia  sumpta  pudenter.^ — Hob. 

I  have  often  -vrislied  that,  as  in  our  constitution  there 
are  several  persons  whose  business  it  is  to  watch  over  our 
laws,  our  liberties  and  commerce,  certain  men  might  be 
set  apart  as  superintendents  of  our  language,  to  hinder 
any  words  of  a  foreign  coin  from  passing  among  us;  and 
in  particular  to  prohibit  any  French  phrases  from  be- 
coming current  in  this  kingdom,  when  those  of  our  own 
stamp  are  altogether  as  valuable.  The  present  war  has 
so  adulterated  our  tongue  with  strange  words  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  one  of  our  great-grandfathers  to 
know  what  his  posterity  have  been  doing,  were  he  to  read 
their  exploits  in  a  modern  newspaper.  Our  warriors  are 
very  industrious  in  propagating  the  French  language,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  are  so  gloriously  successful  in 
beating  down  their  power.  Our  soldiers  are  men  of  strong 
heads  for  action,  and  perform  such  feats  as  they  are  not 
able  to  express.  They  want  words  in  their  own  tongue  to 
tell  us  what  it  is  they  achieve,  and  therefore  send  us 
over  accounts  of  their  performances  in  a  jargon  of 
phrases,  which  they  learn  among  their  conquered  ene- 
mies. They  ought  however  to  be  provided  with  secreta- 
ries and  assisted  by  our  foreign  ministers,  to  tell  their 
story  for  them  in  plain  English,  and  to  let  us  know  in 
our  mother-tongue  what  it  is  our  brave  countrymen  are 
about.  The  French  would  indeed  be  in  the  right  to  pub- 
lish the  news  of  the  present  war  in  English  phrases,  and 
make  their  campaigns  unintelligible.  Their  people  might 
flatter  themselves  that  things  are  not  so  bad  as  they  really 

^ If  you  would  unheard-of  things  express, 

Invent  new  words ;  we  can  indulge  a  muse, 
Until  the  license  rise  to  an  abuse. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  265 

are,  were  they  thus  palliated  with  foreign  terms,  and 
thrown  into  shades  and  obscurity :  But  the  English  can- 
not be  too  clear  in  their  narrative  of  those  actions,  which 
have  raised  their  country  to  a  higher  pitch  of  glory  than 
it  ever  yet  arrived  at,  and  which  will  be  still  the  more  ad- 
mired the  better  they  are  explained. 

For  my  part,  by  that  time  a  siege  is  carried  on  two  or 
three  days,  I  am  altogether  lost  and  bewildered  in  it,  and 
meet  with  so  many  inexplicable  difficulties,  that  I  scarce 
know  which  side  has  the  better  of  it,  till  I  am  informed 
by  the  Tower  guns  that  the  place  is  surrendered.  I  do 
indeed  make  some  allowances  for  this  part  of  the  war,  for- 
tifications having  been  foreign  inventions,  and  upon  that 
account  abounding  in  foreign  terms.  But  when  we  have 
won  battles  which  may  be  described  in  our  own  language, 
why  are  our  papers  filled  with  so  many  unintelligible 
exploits,  and  the  French  obliged  to  lend  us  a  part  of  their 
tongue  before  we  can  know  how  they  are  conquered  ?  They 
must  be  made  accessory  to  their  own  disgrace,  as  the 
Britons  were  formerly  so  artificially  wrought  in  the  cur- 
tain of  the  Roman  theater,  that  they  seemed  to  draw  it 
up,  in  order  to  give  the  spectators  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  their  own  defeat  celebrated  upon  the  stage:  for  so 
Mr.  Dry  den  has  translated  that  verse  in  Vergil : 
Atque  intertexti  tollant  aulsea  Britanni. 

Which  interwoven  Britons  seem  to  raise, 

And  show  the  triumph  that  their  shame  displays. 

The  histories  of  all  our  former  wars  are  transmitted  to 
us  in  our  vernacular  idiom,  to  use  the  phrase  of  a  great 
modern  critic.  I  do  not  find  in  any  of  our  chronicles,  that 
Edward  III.  ever  reconnoitered  the  enemy,  though  he 
often  discovered  the  posture  of  the  French,  and  as  often 
vanquished  them  in  battle.  The  Black  Prince  passed 
many  a  river  without  the  help  of  pontoons,  and  filled  a 
ditch  with  faggots  as  successfully  as  the  generals  of  oui 
times  do  it  with  fascines.  Our  commanders  lose  half  their 
praise,  and  our  people  half  their  joy,  by  means  of  those 


266  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

hard  words  and  dark  expressions  in  which  our  news- 
papers do  so  much  abound.  I  have  seen  many  a  prudent 
citizen,  after  having  read  every  article,  inquire  of  his 
next  neighbor  what  news  the  mail  had  brought. 

I  remember  in  that  remarkable  year  when  our  country 
was  delivered  from  the  greatest  fears  and  apprehensions, 
and  raised  to  the  greatest  height  of  gladness  it  had  ever 
felt  since  it  was  a  nation;  I  mean  the  year  of  Blenheim, 
I  had  the  copy  of  a  letter  sent  me  out  of  the  country, 
which  was  written  from  a  young  gentleman  in  the  army 
to  his  father,  a  man  of  a  good  estate  and  plain  sense:  as 
the  letter  was  very  modishly  chequered  with  this  modem 
military  eloquence,  I  shall  present  my  reader  with  a  copy 
of  it. 

^'SlR, 

*^Upon  the  junction  of  the  French  and  Bavarian  armies 
they  took  post  behind  a  great  morass  which  they  thought 
impracticable.  Our  general  the  next  day  sent  a  party  of 
horse  to  reconnoiter  them  from  a  little  hauteur,  at  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour's  distance  from  the  army,  who  re- 
turned again  to  the  camp  unobserved  through  several  de- 
files, in  one  of  which  they  met  with  a  party  of  French 
that  had  been  marauding,  and  made  them  all  prisoners 
at  discretion.  The  day  after  a  drum  arrived  at  our  camp, 
with  a  message  which  he  would  communicate  to  none  but 
the  general;  he  was  followed  by  a  trumpet,  who  they  say 
behaved  himself  very  saucily,  with  a  message  from  the 
duke  of  Bavaria.  The  next  morning  our  army  being  di- 
vided into  two  corps,  made  a  movement  towards  the 
enemy:  you  will  hear  in  the  public  prints  how  we  treated 
them,  with  the  other  circumstances  of  that  glorious  day. 
I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  in  the  regiment  that  pushed 
the  Gens  d'Arms.  Several  French  battalions,  who  some 
say  were  a  corps  de  reserve,  made  a  show  of  resistance; 
but  it  only  proved  a  gasconade,  for  upon  our  preparing 
to  fill  up  a  little  fosse,  in  order  to  attack  them,  they  beat 
the  chamade,  and  sent  us  chart e  blanche.    Their  com- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  267 

mandant,  with  a  great  many  other  general  officers,  and 
troops  without  number,  are  made  prisoners  of  war,  and 
will  I  believe  give  you  a  visit  in  England,  the  cartel  not 
being  yet  settled.  Not  questioning  but  these  particulars 
will  be  very  welcome  to  you,  I  congratulate  you  upon 
them,  and  am  your  most  dutiful  son,"  etc. 

The  father  of  the  young  gentleman  upon  the  perusal 
of  the  letter  found  it  contained  great  news,  but  could  not 
guess  what  it  was.  He  immediately  communicated  it  to 
the  curate  of  the  parish,  who  upon  the  reading  of  it,  being 
vexed  to  see  anything  he  could  not  understand,  fell  into 
a  kind  of  passion,  and  told  him,  that  his  son  had  sent 
him  a  letter  that  was  neither  fish,  flesh,  nor  good  red- 
herring.  "I  wish,"  says  he,  "the  captain  may  be  compos 
mentis,  he  talks  of  a  saucy  trumpet,  and  a  drum  that  car- 
ries messages;  then  who  is  this  Charte  Blanche?  He 
must  either  banter  us,  or  he  is  out  of  his  senses."  The 
father,  who  always  looked  upon  the  curate  as  a  learned 
man,  began  to  fret  inwardly  at  his  son's  usage,  and  pro- 
ducing a  letter  which  he  had  written  to  him  about  three 
posts  afore,  "You  see  here,"  says  he,  ^Vhen  he  writes  for 
money,  he  knows  how  to  speak  intelligibly  enough;  there 
is  no  man  in  England  can  express  himself  clearer,  when 
he  wants  a  new  furniture  for  his  horse."  In  short,  the 
old  man  was  so  puzzled  upon  the  point,  that  it  might 
have  fared  ill  with  his  son,  had  he  not  seen  all  the  prints 
about  three  days  after  filled  with  the  same  terms  of  art, 
and  that  Charles  only  writ  like  other  men. 

[Spectator  No.  170.     FRmAY,  September  14,  1711. 
Addison.] 

In  amore  haec  omnia  insunt  vitia:  injurisB, 

Suspiciones,  inimicitise,  induciae, 

Bellum,  pax  rursum *  — Teb.   Eun. 

Upon  looking  over  the  letters  of  my  female  correspond- 
ents, I  find  several  from  women  complaining  of  jealous 

*  In   love  are  all  these  ills :    suspicions,   quarrels. 
Wrongs,    reconcilements,    war    and    peace    again. 


268  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

husbands,  and  at  the  same  time  protesting  their  own  in- 
nocence; and  desiring  my  advice  on  this  occasion.  I 
shall,  therefore,  take  this  subject  into  my  consideration, 
and  the  more  willingly  because  I  find  that  the  Marquis 
of  Halifax,  who,  in  his  Advice  to  a  Daughter,  has  in- 
structed a  wife  how  to  behave  herself  towards  a  false,  an 
intemperate,  a  choleric,  a  sullen,  a  covetous,  or  a  silly 
husband,  has  not  spoken  one  word  of  a  jealous  husband. 

Jealousy  is  that  pain  which  a  man  feels  from  the  ap- 
prehension that  he  is  not  equally  beloved  by  the  person 
whom  he  entirely  loves.  Now,  because  our  inward  pas- 
sions and  inclinations  can  never  make  themselves  visible, 
it  is  impossible  for  a  jealous  man  to  be  thoroughly  cured 
of  his  suspicions.  His  thoughts  hang  at  best  in  a  state 
of  doubtfulness  and  uncertainty;  and  are  never  capable 
of  receiving  any  satisfaction  on  the  advantageous  side; 
so  that  his  inquiries  are  most  successful  when  they  dis- 
cover nothing:  his  pleasure  arises  from  his  disappoint* 
ments,  and  his  life  is  spent  in  pursuit  of  a  secret  that 
destroys  his  happiness  if  he  chance  to  find  it. 

An  ardent  love  is  always  a  strong  ingredient  in  this 
passion;  for  the  same  affection  which  stirs  up  the  jealous 
man's  desires,  and  gives  the  party  beloved  so  beautiful  a 
figure  in  his  imagination,  makes  him  believe  she  kindles 
the  same  passion  in  others,  and  appears  as  amiable  to  all 
beholders.  And  as  jealousy  thus  arises  from  an  extraor- 
dinary love,  it  is  of  so  delicate  a  nature,  that  it  scorns 
to  take  up  with  anything  less  than  an  equal  return  of 
love.  Not  the  warmest  expressions  of  affection,  the  soft- 
est and  most  tender  hypocrisy,  are  able  to  give  any  sat- 
isfaction, where  we  are  not  persuaded  that  the  affection 
is  real  and  the  satisfaction  mutual.  For  the  jealous  man 
wishes  himself  a  kind  of  deity  to  the  person  he  loves: 
he  would  be  the  only  pleasure  of  her  senses,  the  employ- 
ment of  her  thoughts ;  and  is  angry  at  everything  she  ad- 
mires, or  takes  delight  in,  besides  himself. 

Phaedria's  request  to  his  mistress,  upon  his  leaving  her 
for  three  days,  is  inimitably  beautiful  and  natural. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  269 

Cum  milite  isto  praesens,  absens  ut  sies: 
Dies,  noctesque  me  ames:   me  desideres: 
Me  somnies:  me  exspectes:   de  me  cogites: 
Me  speres:  me  te  oblectes:  mecum  tota  sis: 
Meus  fae  sis  postremo  animus,  quando  ego  sum  tuus. 

— Teb.    Eun.^ 

The  jealous  man^s  disease  is  of  so  malignant  a  nature, 
that  it  converts  all  he  takes  into  its  own  nourishment.  A 
cool  behavior  sets  him  on  the  rack,  and  is  interpreted  as 
an  instance  of  aversion  or  indifference;  a  fond  one  raises 
his  suspicions,  and  looks  too  much  like  dissimulation  and 
artifice.  If  the  person  he  loves  be  cheerful,  her  thoughts 
must  be  employed  on  another;  and  if  sad,  she  is  certainly 
thinking  on  himself.  In  short,  there  is  no  word  or  ges- 
ture so  insignificant,  but  it  gives  him  new  hints,  feeds 
his  suspicions,  and  furnishes  him  with  fresh  matters  of 
discovery:  so  that  if  we  consider  the  effects  of  this  pas- 
sion, one  would  rather  think  it  proceeded  from  an  invet- 
erate hatred  than  an  excessive  love;  for  certainly  none 
can  meet  with  more  disquietude  and  uneasiness  than  a 
suspected  wife,  if  we  except  the  jealous  husband. 

But  the  great  unhappiness  of  this  passion  is,  that  it 
naturally  tends  to  alienate  the  affection  which  it  is  so 
solicitous  to  engross;  and  that  for  these  two  reasons,  be- 
cause it  lays  too  great  a  constraint  on  the  words  and 
actions  of  the  suspected  person,  and  at  the  same  time 
shews  you  have  no  honorable  opinion  of  her;  both  of 
which  are  strong  motives  to  aversion. 

Nor  is  this  the  worst  effect  of  jealousy;  for  it  often 
draws  after  it  a  more  fatal  train  of  consequences,  and 
makes  the  person  you  suspect  guilty  of  the  very  crimes 
you  are  so  much  afraid  of.  It  is  very  natural  for  such 
who  are  treated  ill  and  upbraided  falsely,  to  find  out  an 
intimate  friend  that  will  hear  their  complaints,  condole 

*  When  you  are  in  company  with  that  soldier,  behave  as  if  you 
were  absent ;  but  continue  to  love  me  by  day  and  by  night :  want 
me ;  dream  of  me ;  expect  me ;  think  of  me ;  wish  for  me ;  delight 
in  me ;  be  wholly  with  me :  in  short,  be  my  very  soul,  as  I  am 
yours. 


270  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

their  sufferings,  and  endeavor  to  soothe  and  assuage  their 
secret  resentments.  Besides,  jealousy  puts  a  woman  often 
in  mind  of  an  ill  thing  that  she  would  not  otherwise, 
perhaps,  have  thought  of,  and  fills  her  imagination  with 
such  an  unlucky  idea,  as  in  time  grows  familiar,  excites 
desire,  and  loses  all  the  shame  and  horror  which  might 
at  first  attend  it.  Nor  is  it  a  wonder  if  she  who  suffers 
wrongfully  in  a  man^s  opinion  of  her,  and  has,  therefore, 
nothing  to  forfeit  in  his  esteem,  resolves  to  give  him 
reason  for  his  suspicions,  and  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of 
the  crime,  since  she  must  undergo  the  ignominy.  Such 
probably  were  the  considerations  that  directed  the  wise 
man  in  his  advice  to  husbands:  "Be  not  jealous  over 
the  wife  of  thy  bosom,  and  teach  her  not  an  evil  lesson 
against  thyseK."  ^ 

And  here,  among  the  other  torments  which  this  pas- 
sion produces,  we  may  usually  observe  that  none  are 
greater  mourners  than  jealous  men,  when  the  person 
who  provoked  their  jealousy  is  taken  from  them.  Then 
it  is  that  their  love  breaks  out  furiously,  and  throws  off 
all  the  mixtures  of  suspicion  which  choked  and  smothered 
it  before.  The  beautiful  parts  of  the  character  rise  up- 
permost in  the  jealous  husband's  memory,  and  upbraid 
him  with  the  ill  usage  of  so  divine  a  creature  as  was  once 
in  his  possession;  whilst  all  the  little  imperfections,  that 
were  before  so  uneasy  to  him,  wear  off  from  his  remem- 
brance, and  shew  themselves  no  more. 

We  may  see  by  what  has  been  said,  that  jealousy  takes 
the  deepest  root  in  men  of  amorous  dispositions;  and  of 
these  we  may  find  three  kinds  who  are  most  overrim 
with  it. 

The  first  are  those  who  are  conscious  to  themselves  of 
an  infirmity,  whether  it  be  weakness,  old  age,  deformity, 
ignorance,  or  the  like.  These  men  are  so  well  acquainted 
with  the  unamiable  part  of  themselves,  that  they  have  not 
the  confidence  to  think  they  are  really  beloved;  and  are 
so    distrustful    of   their   own   merits,   that   all   fondness 

lEccls.    ix.    !.• 


ADDISON  AND  STEELIT  271 

towards  them  puts  them  out  of  countenance,  and  looks 
like  a  jest  upon  their  persons.  They  grow  suspicious  on 
their  first  looking  in  a  glass,  and  are  stung  with  jealousy 
at  the  sight  of  a  wrinkle.  A  handsome  fellow  immedi- 
ately alarms  them,  and  everything  that  looks  young  or 
gay  turns  their  thoughts  upon  their  wives. 

A  second  sort  of  men,  who  are  most  liable  to  this  pas- 
sion, are  those  of  cunning,  wary,  and  distrustful  tempers. 
It  is  a  fault  very  justly  found  in  histories  composed  by 
politicians,  that  they  leave  nothing  to  chance,  or  humor, 
but  are  still  for  deriving  every  action  from  some  plot 
and  contrivance,  for  drawing  up  a  perpetual  scheme^  of 
causes  and  events,  and  preserving  a  constant  correspond- 
ence between  the  camp  and  the  council-table.  And  thus 
it  happens  in  the  affairs  of  love  with  men  of  too  refined 
a  thought.  They  put  a  construction  on  a  look,  and  find 
out  a  design  in  a  smile;  they  give  new  senses  and  sig- 
nifications to  words  and  actions;  and  are  ever  tormenting 
themselves  with  fancies  of  their  own  raising:  they  gen- 
erally act  in  a  disguise  themselves,  and  therefore  mistake 
all  outward  shows  and  appearances  for  hypocrisy  in  oth- 
ers; so  that  I  believe  no  men  see  less  of  the  truth  and 
reality  of  things  than  these  great  refiners  upon  inci- 
dents, who  are  so  wonderfully  subtle  and  overwise  in  their 
conceptions. 

Now  what  these  men  fancy  they  know  of  women  by  re- 
flection, your  lewd  and  vicious  men  believe  they  have 
learned  by  experience.  They  have  seen  the  poor  husband 
so  misled  by  tricks  and  artifices,  and  in  the  midst  of  his 
inquiries  so  lost  and  bewildered  in  a  crooked  intrigue, 
that  they  still  suspect  an  under-plot  in  every  female  ac- 
tion; and  especially  where  they  see  any  resemblance  in 
the  behavior  of  two  persons,  are  apt  to  fancy  it  proceeds 
from  the  same  design  in  both.  These  men,  therefore,  bear 
hard  upon  the  suspected  party,  pursue  her  close  through 
all  her  turnings  and  windings,  and  are  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  chase,  to  be  slung  off  by  any  false  steps  or  doub- 
les :  besides,  their  acquaintance  and  conversation  has  lain 


272  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

wholly  among  the  vicious  part  of  womankind,  and  there- 
fore it  is  no  wonder  they  censure  all  ahke,  and  look  upon 
the  whole  sex  as  a  species  of  impostors.  But  if,  notwith- 
standing their  private  experience,  they  can  get  over  these 
prejudices,  and  entertain  a  favorable  opinion  of  some 
women,  yet  their  own  loose  desires  will  stir  up  new  sus- 
picions from  another  side,  and  make  them  believe  all  men 
subject  to  the  same  inclinations  with  themselves. 

Whether  these  or  other  motives  are  most  predominant, 
we  learn  from  the  modern  histories  of  America,  as  well 
as  from  our  own  experience  in  this  part  of  the  world, 
that  jealousy  is  no  northern  passion,  but  rages  most  in 
those  nations  that  lie  nearest  the  influence  of  the  sun. 
It  is  a  misfortune  for  a  woman  to  be  born  between  the 
tropics;  for  there  lie  the  hottest  regions  of  jealousy, 
which  as  you  come  northward  cools  all  along  with  the 
climate,  till  you  scarce  meet  with  anything  like  it  in  the 
polar  circle.  Our  own  nation  is  very  temperately  situ- 
ated in  this  respect;  and  if  we  meet  with  some  few  dis- 
ordered with  the  violence  of  this  passion,  they  are  not 
the  proper  growth  of  our  country,  but  are  many  degrees 
nearer  the  sun  in  their  constitutions  than  in  their  cli- 
mate. 

After  this  frightful  account  of  jealousy,  and  the  per- 
sons who  are  most  subject  to  it,  it  will  be  but  fair  to  shew 
by  what  means  the  passion  may  be  best  allayed,  and 
those  who  are  possessed  with  it  set  at  ease.  Other  faults, 
indeed,  are  not  under  the  wife's  jurisdiction,  and  should, 
if  possible,  escape  her  observation ;  but  jealousy  calls  upon 
her  particularly  for  its  cure,  and  deser\^es  all  her  art  and 
application  in  the  attempt:  besides,  she  has  this  for  her 
encouragement,  that  her  endeavors  will  be  always  pleas- 
ing, and  that  she  will  still  find  the  affection  of  her  hus- 
band rising  towards  her  in  proportion  as  his  doubts  and 
suspicions  vanish;  for,  as  we  have  seen  all  along,  there 
is  so  great  a  mixture  of  love  in  jealousy  as  is  well  worth 
separating.     But  this  shall  be  the  subject  of  another  paper. 

L. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  273 


[Spectator  No.  174.  Wednesday,  September  19,  1711. 
Steele.] 

Haec  memini  et  victum  frustra  contendere  Tliyrsin.^ 

— Yhsjqil, 

There  is  scarce  anything  more  common  than  animosi- 
ties between  parties  that  cannot  subsist  but  by  their 
agreement:  this  was  well  represented  in  the  sedition  of 
the  members  of  the  human  body  in  the  old  Roman  fable. 
It  is  often  the  case  of  lesser  confederate  states  against 
a  superior  power,  which  are  hardly  held  together,  though 
their  unanimity  is  necessary  for  their  common  safety. 
And  this  is  always  the  case  of  the  landed  and  trading  in- 
terest of  Great  Britain :  the  trader  is  fed  by  the  product 
of  the  land,  and  the  landed  man  cannot  be  clothed  but  by 
the  skill  of  the  trader;  and  yet  those  interests  are  ever 
jarring. 

We  had  last  winter  an  instance  of  this  at  our  club, 
in  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  be- 
tween whom  there  is  generally  a  constant,  though 
friendly,  opposition  of  opinions.  It  happened  that  one 
of  the  company,  in  an  historical  discourse,  was  observing 
that  Carthaginian  faith  was  a  proverbial  phrase  to  inti- 
mate breach  of  leagues.  Sir  Roger  said  it  could  hardly 
be  otherwise;  that  '^the  Carthaginians  were  the  greatest 
traders  in  the  world,  and  as  gain  is  the  chief  end  of 
such  a  people,  they  never  pursue  any  other, — the  means  to 
it  are  never  regarded.  They  will,  if  it  comes  easily,  get 
money  honestly;  but  if  not,  they  will  not  scruple  to  ob- 
tain it  by  fraud  or  cozenage.  And,  indeed,  what  is  the 
whole  business  of  the  trader's  account,  but  to  overreach 
him  who  trusts  to  his  memory?  But  were  that  not  so, 
what  can  there  great  and  noble  be  expected  from  him 
whose  attention  is  forever  fixed  upon  balancing  his  books, 
and  watching  over  his  expenses  ?    And  at  best,  let  f rugal- 

*  "The  whole  debate  In  memory  1   retain, 

When   Thyrsia   argued   warmly,    but    in    vain." 


274  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

ity  and  parsimony  be  the  virtues  of  the  merchant,  how 
much  is  his  punctual  dealing  below  a  gentleman's  char- 
ity to  the  poor,  or  hospitality  among  his  neighbors?" 

Captain  Sentry  observed  Sir  Andrew  very  diligent  in 
hearing  Sir  Eoger,  and  had  a  mind  to  turn  the  discourse 
by  taking  notice  "in  general,  from  the  highest  to  the  low- 
est parts  of  human  society,  there  was  a  secret,  though  un- 
just, way  among  men  of  indulging  the  seeds  of  ill-nature 
and  envy,  by  comparing  their  own  state  of  life  to  that  of 
another,  and  grudging  the  approach  of  their  neighbor  to 
their  own  happiness.  And  on  the  other  side,  he  who  is 
the  less  at  his  ease,  repines  at  the  other  who,  he  thinks, 
has  unjustly  the  advantage  over  him.  Thus  the  civil  and 
military  lists  look  upon  each  other  with  much  ill-nature: 
the  soldier  repines  at  the  courtier's  power,  and  the  courtier 
rallies  the  soldier's  honor;  or,  to  come  to  lower  instances, 
the  private  men  in  the  horse  and  foot  of  an  army,  the 
carmen  and  coachmen  in  the  city  streets,  mutually  look 
upon  each  other  with  ill-will,  when  they  are  in  competi- 
tion for  quarters  or  the  way,  in  their  respective  motions." 

"It  is  very  well,  good  captain,"  interrupted  Sir  An- 
drew, ^^ou  may  attempt  to  turn  the  discourse  if  you 
think  fit;  but  I  must,  however,  have  a  word  or  two  with 
Sir  Roger,  who,  I  see,  thinks  he  has  paid  me  off,  and  been 
very  severe  upon  the  merchant.  I  shall  not,"  continued 
he,  ^^at  this  time  remind  Sir  Eoger  of  the  great  and 
noble  monuments  of  charity  and  public  spirit  which  have 
been  erected  by  merchants  since  the  Reformation,  but  at 
present  content  myself  with  what  he  allows  us — parsimony 
and  frugality.  If  it  were  consistent  with  the  quality  of 
so  ancient  a  baronet  as  Sir  Eoger  to  keep  an  account, 
or  measure  things  by  the  most  infallible  way,  that  of 
numbers,  he  would  prefer  our  parsimony  to  his  hospitality. 
If  to  drink  so  many  hogsheads  is  to  be  hospitable,  we  do 
not  contend  for  the  fame  of  that  virtue;  but  it  would  be 
worth  while  to  consider  whether  so  many  artificers  at  work 
ten  days  together  by  my  appointment,  or  so  many  peasants 
made  merry  on  Sir  Roger's  charge,  are  the  men  more 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  275 

obliged!  I  believe  the  families  of  the  artificers  will  thank 
me  more  than  the  households  of  the  peasants  shall  Sir 
Eoger.  Sir  Eoger  gives  to  his  men,  but  I  place  mine 
above  the  necessity  or  obligation  of  my  bounty.  I  am 
in  very  little  pain  for  the  Eoman  proverb  upon  the  Cartha- 
ginian traders;  the  Romans  were  their  professed  enemies. 
I  am  only  sorry  that  no  Carthaginian  histories  have  come 
to  our  hands ;  we  might  have  been  taught,  perhaps,  by  them 
some  proverbs  against  the  Eoman  generosity,  in  fighting 
for  and  bestowing  other  people's  goods.  But  since  Sir 
Eoger  has  taken  occasion  from  an  old  proverb  to  be  out  of 
humor  with  merchants,  it  should  be  no  offense  to  offer  one 
not  quite  so  old  in  their  defense.  When  a  man  happens  to 
break  in  Holland,  they  say  of  him  that  ^he  has  not  kept 
true  accounts.'  This  phrase,  perhaps,  among  us  would 
appear  a  soft  or  humorous  way  of  speaking;  but  with 
that  exact  nation  it  bears  the  highest  reproach.  For  a 
man  to  be  mistaken  in  the  calculation  of  his  expense,  in 
his  ability  to  answer  future  demands,  or  to  be  imperti- 
nently sanguine  in  putting  his  credit  to  too  great  adven- 
ture, are  all  instances  of  as  much  infamy  as,  with  gayer 
nations,  to  be  failing  in  courage  or  common  honesty. 

"Numbers  are  so  much  the  measure  of  everything  that 
is  valuable,  that  it  is  not  possible  to  demonstrate  the 
success  of  any  action  or  the  prudence  of  any  undertaking, 
without  them.  I  say  this  in  answer  to  what  Sir  Eoger 
is  pleased  to  say,  that  ^little  that  is  truly  noble  can  be 
expected  from  one  who  is  ever  poring  on  his  cash-book 
or  balancing  his  accounts.'  When  I  have  my  returns 
from  abroad,  I  can  tell  to  a  shilling,  by  the  help  of 
numbers,  the  profit  or  loss  by  my  adventure;  but  I  ought 
also  to  be  able  to  show  that  I  had  reason  for  making  it, 
either  from  my  own  experience  or  that  of  other  people, 
or  from  a  reasonable  presumption  that  my  returns  will 
be  sufficient  to  answer  my  expense  and  hazard — and  this 
is  never  to  be  done  without  the  skill  of  numbers.  For 
instance,  if  I  am  to  trade  to  Turkey,  I  ought  beforehand  to 
know  the  demand  of  our  manufactures  there,  as  well  as 


276  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

of  their  silks  in  England,  and  the  customary  prices  that 
are  given  for  both  in  each  country.  I  ought  to  have  a 
clear  knowledge  of  these  matters  beforehand,  that  I  may 
presume  upon  sufficient  returns  to  answer  the  charge  of 
the  cargo  I  have  fitted  out,  the  freight  and  assurance 
out  and  home,  the  custom  to  the  Queen,  and  the  interest 
of  my  own  money,  and  besides  all  these  expenses,  a  reason- 
able profit  to  myself.  Now  what  is  there  of  scandal  in 
this  skill?  What  has  the  merchant  done  that  he  should 
be  so  little  in  the  good  graces  of  Sir  Roger?  He  throws 
down  no  man's  enclosure,  and  tramples  upon  no  man's 
corn;  he  takes  nothing  from  the  industrious  laborer;  he 
pays  the  poor  man  for  his  work;  he  communicates  his 
profit  with  mankind;  by  the  preparation  of  his  cargo,  and 
the  manufacture  of  his  returns,  he  furnishes  employment 
and  subsistence  to  greater  numbers  than  the  richest  noble- 
man; and  even  the  nobleman  is  obliged  to  him  for  finding 
out  foreign  markets  for  the  produce  of  his  estate,  and  for 
making  a  great  addition  to  his  rents ;  and  yet  it  is  certain 
that  none  of  all  these  things  could  be  done  by  him  with- 
out the  exercise  of  his  skill  in  numbers. 

"This  is  the  economy  of  the  merchant;  and  the  conduct 
of  the  gentleman  must  be  the  same,  unless  by  scorning  to 
be  the  steward,  he  resolves  the  steward  shall  be  the  gen- 
tleman. The  gentleman,  no  more  than  the  merchant,  is 
able,  without  the  help  of  numbers,  to  account  for  the 
success  of  any  action,  or  the  prudence  of  any  adventure. 
If,  for  instance,  the  chase  is  his  whole  adventure,  his  only 
returns  must  be  the  stag's  horns  in  the  great  hall  and  the 
fox's  nose  upon  the  stable  door.  Without  doubt  Sir  Roger 
knows  the  full  value  of  these  returns;  and  if  beforehand 
he  had  computed  the  charges  of  the  chase,  a  gentleman 
of  his  discretion  would  certainly  have  hanged  up  all  his 
dogs;  he  would  never  have  brought  back  so  many  fine 
horses  to  the  kennel;  he  would  never  have  gone  so  often, 
like  a  blast,  over  fields  of  com.  If  such,  too,  had  been 
the  conduct  of  all  his  ancestors,  he  might  truly  have 
boasted,  at  this  day,  that  the  antiquity  of  his  family  had 


ADDISON  AISTD  STEELE  27Y 

never  been  sullied  by  a  trade;  a  merchant  had  never  been 
permitted  with  his  whole  estate  to  purchase  a  room  for 
his  picture  in  the  gallery  of  the  Coverleys,  or  to  claim 
his  descent  from  the  maid  of  honor.  But  ^tis  very  happy 
for  Sir  Roger  that  the  merchant  paid  so  dear  for  his 
ambition.  'Tis  the  misfortune  of  many  other  gentlemen 
to  turn  out  of  the  seats  of  their  ancestors  to  make  way 
for  such  new  masters  as  have  been  more  exact  in  their 
accounts  than  themselves;  and  certainly  he  deserves  the 
estate  a  great  deal  better  who  has  got  it  by  his  industry, 
than  he  who  has  lost  it  by  his  negligence,"  T. 


[Spectator  No.  236.    Thursday,  November  29,  1711. 
Addison.] 

— Populares 
Vincentem    strepitus —  ^ 

— HoR.  Ars  Poet.  81. 

There  is  nothing  which  lies  more  within  the  province 
of  a  Spectator  than  public  shows  and  diversions;  and,  as 
among  these  there  are  none  which  can  pretend  to  vie 
with  those  elegant  entertainments  that  are  exhibited 
in  our  theaters,  I  think  it  particularly  incumbent  on  me 
to  take  notice  of  every  thing  that  is  remarkable  in  such 
numerous  and  refined  assemblies. 

It  is  observed,  that  of  late  years  there  has  been  a  cer- 
tain person  in  the  upper  gallery  of  the  play-house,  who, 
when  he  is  pleased  with  anything  that  is  acted  upon  the 
stage,  expresses  his  approbation  by  a  loud  knock  upon 
the  benches  or  the  wainscot,  which  may  be  heard  over  the 
whole  theater.  This  person  is  commonly  known  by  the 
name  of  the  "Trunk-maker  in  the  upper  gallery." 
Whether  it  be  that  the  blow  he  gives  on  these  occasions 

*  Awes  the  tumultuous  noises  of  the  pit. 


278  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

resembles  that  which  is  often  heard  in  the  shops  of  such 
artisans,  or  that  he  was  supposed  to  have  been  a  real 
trunk-maker,  who  after  the  finishing  of  his  day's  work 
used  to  unbend  his  mind  at  these  public  diversions  with 
his  hammer  in  his  hand,  I  cannot  certainly  tell.  There 
are  some,  1  know,  who  have  been  foolish  enough  to  imagine 
it  is  a  spirit  which  haunts  the  upper  gallery,  and  from 
time  to  time  makes  those  strange  noises;  and  the  rather, 
because  he  is  observed  to  be  louder  than  ordinary  every 
time  the  ghost  of  Hamlet  appears.  Others  have  reported, 
that  it  is  a  dumb  man,  who  has  chosen  this  way  of  utter- 
ing himself  when  he  is  transported  with  anything  he  sees 
or  hears.  Others  will  have  it  to  be  the  play-house  thun- 
derer,  that  exerts  himself  after  this  manner  in  the  upper 
gallery  when  he  has  nothing  to  do  upon  the  roof. 

But  having  made  it  my  business  to  get  the  best  in- 
formation I  could  in  a  matter  of  this  moment,  I  find  that 
the  trunk-maker,  as  he  is  commonly  called,  is  a  large  black- 
man,  whom  nobody  knows.  He  generally  leans  forward 
on  a  huge  oaken  plant  with  great  attention  to  everything 
that  passes  upon  the  stage.  He  is  never  seen  to  smile;  but, 
upon  hearing  anything  that  pleases  him,  he  takes  up  his 
staff  with  both  hands,  and  lays  it  upon  the  next  piece  of 
timber  that  stands  in  his  way  with  exceeding  vehemence; 
after  which,  he  composes  himself  in  his  former  posture, 
till  such  time  as  something  new  sets  him  again  at  work. 

It  has  been  observed,  his  blow  is  so  well  timed  that  the 
most  judicious  critic  could  never  except  against  it.  As 
soon  as  any  shining  thought  is  expressed  in  the  poet,  or 
any  uncommon  grace  appears  in  the  actor,  he  smites  the 
bench  or  wainscot.  If  the  audience  does  not  concur  with 
him,  he  smites  a  second  time;  and  if  the  audience  is  not 
yet  awakened,  looks  round  him  with  great  wrath,  and 
repeats  the  blow  a  third  time,  which  never  fails  to  produce 
the  clap.  He  sometimes  lets  the  audience  begin  the  clap 
themselves,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  their  applause  ratifies 
it  with  a  single  thwack. 

He  is  of  so  great  use  to  the  play-house,  that  it  is  said 


4DDIS0N  AND  STEELE  279 

a  former  director  of  it,  upon  his  not  being  able  to  pay 
his  attendance  by  reason  of  sickness,  kept  one  in  pay  to 
officiate  for  him  until  such  time  as  he  recovered;  but  the 
person  so  employed,  though  he  laid  about  him  with  in- 
credible violence,  did  it  in  such  wrong  places  that  the 
audience  soon  found  out  that  it  was  not  their  old  friend 
the  trunk-maker. 

It  has  been  remarked,  that  he  has  not  yet  exerted  him- 
self with  vigor  this  season.  He  sometimes  plies  at  the 
opera;  and,  upon  Nicolini's  first  appearance,  was  said  to 
have  demolished  three  benches  in  the  fury  of  his  applause. 
He  has  broken  half-a-dozen  oaken  plants  upon  Dogget, 
and  seldom  goes  away  from  a  tragedy  of  Shakespeare 
without  leaving  the  wainscot  extremely  shattered. 

The  players  do  not  only  connive  at  his  obstreperous  ap- 
probation, but  very  cheerfully  repair  at  their  own  cost 
whatever  damages  he  makes.  They  once  had  a  thought 
of  erecting  a  kind  of  wooden  anvil  for  his  use,  that  should 
be  made  of  a  very  sounding  plank,  in  order  to  render  his 
strokes  more  deep  and  mellow ;  but  as  this  might  not  have 
been  distinguished  from  the  music  of  a  kettle  drum,  the 
project  was  laid  aside. 

In  the  meanwhile,  I  cannot  but  take  notice  of  the  great 
use  it  is  to  an  audience  that  a  person  should  thus  preside 
over  their  heads  like  the  director  of  a  concert,  in  order 
to  awaken  their  attention,  and  beat  time  to  their  ap- 
plauses; or,  to  raise  my  simile,  I  have  sometimes  fancied 
the  trunk-maker,  in  the  upper  gallery,  to  be  like  VirgiFs 
ruler  of  the  wind,  seated  upon  the  top  of  a  mountain,  who, 
when  he  struck  his  scepter  upon  the  side  of  it,  roused  an 
hurricane,  and  set  the  whole  cavern  in  an  uproar. 

It  is  certain  the  trunk-maker  has  saved  many  a  good 
play,  and  brought  many  a  graceful  actor  into  reputation, 
who  would  not  otherwise  have  been  taken  notice  of.  It 
is  very  visible,  as  the  audience  is  not  a  little  abashed, 
if  they  find  themselves  betrayed  into  a  clap  when  their 
friend  in  the  upper  gallery  does  not  come  into  it;  so  the 
actors  do  not  value  themselves  upon  the  clap,  but  regard 


280  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

it  as  a  mere  hrutum  fulmen,  or  empty  noise,  when  it  has 
not  the  sound  of  the  oaken  plant  in  it.  I  know  it  has 
been  given  out  by  those  who  are  enemies  to  the  trunk- 
maker,  that  he  has  sometimes  been  bribed  to  be  in  the 
interest  of  a  bad  poet,  or  a  vicious  player;  but  this  is  a 
surmise  which  has  no  foundation:  his  strokes  are  always 
just,  and  his  admonitions  seasonable:  he  does  not  deal 
about  his  blows  at  random,  but  always  hits  the  right  nail 
upon  the  head.  That  inexpressible  force  wherewith  he 
lays  them  on,  sufficiently  shows  the  evidence  and  strength 
of  his  conviction.  His  zeal  for  a  good  author  is  indeed 
outrageous,  and  breaks  down  every  fence  and  partition, 
every  board  and  plank,  that  stands  within  the  expression 
of  his  applause. 

As  I  do  not  care  for  terminating  my  thoughts  in  bar- 
ren speculations,  or  in  reports  of  pure  matter  of  fact, 
without  drawing  something  from  them  for  the  advantage 
of  my  countrymen,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  make  an 
humble  proposal,  that  whenever  the  trunk-maker  shall 
depart  this  life,  or  whenever  he  shall  have  lost  the  spring 
of  his  arm  by  sickness,  old  age,  infirmity,  or  the  like,  some 
able-bodied  critic  should  be  advanced  to  this  post,  and 
have  a  competent  salary  settled  on  him,  to  be  furnished 
with  bamboos  for  operas,  crab-tree  cudgels  for  comedies, 
and  oaken  plants  for  tragedy,  at  the  public  expense.  And 
to  the  end  that  this  place  should  be  always  disposed  of 
according  to  merit,  I  would  have  none  preferred  to  it  who 
has  not  given  convincing  proofs  both  of  a  sound  judgment 
and  a  strong  arm,  and  who  could  not  upon  occasion, 
either  knock  down  an  ox,  or  write  a  comment  upon  Hor- 
ace's Art  of  Poetry.  In  short,  I  would  have  him  a  due 
composition  of  Hercules  and  Apollo,  and  so  rightly  quali- 
fied for  this  important  office,  that  the  trunk-maker  may 
not  be  missed  by  our  posterity.  0. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  281 


[Spectator  No.  251.     Tuesday,  December  18,  1711. 
Addison.] 

— Linguae  centum  sunt,  oraque  centum, 
Ferrea  vox — ^ 

— ViRG.  ^n.  vi.  625. 

There  is  nothing  which  more  astonishes  a  foreigner, 
and  frights  a  country  squire,  than  the  Cries  of  London. 
My  good  friend  Sir  Roger  often  declares  that  he  cannot 
get  them  out  of  his  head,  or  go  to  sleep  for  them,  the 
first  week  that  he  is  in  town.  On  the  contrary.  Will 
Honeycomb  calls  them  the  Ramage  de  la  Ville,  and  prefers 
them  to  the  sounds  of  larks  and  nightingales,  with  all  the 
music  of  the  fields  and  woods.  I  have  lately  received  a 
letter  from  some  very  odd  fellow  upon  this  subject,  which 
I  shall  leave  with  my  reader,  without  saying  anything 
farther  of  it. 

^^SiR, 

"I  am  a  man  out  of  all  business,  and  would  willingly 
turn  my  hand  to  anything  for  an  honest  livelihood.  I 
have  invented  several  projects  for  raising  many  millions 
of  money  without  burdening  the  subject,  but  I  cannot 
get  the  parliament  to  listen  to  me,  who  look  upon  me,  for- 
sooth, as  a  crack  and  a  projector;  so  that,  despairing  to 
enrich  either  myself  or  my  country  by  this  public-spirited- 
ness,  I  would  make  some  proposals  to  you  relating  to  a 
design  which  I  have  very  much  at  heart,  and  which  may 
procure  me  a  handsome  subsistence,  if  you  will  be  pleased 
to  recommend  it  to  the  cities  of  London  and  Westminster. 

"The  post  I  would  aim  at,  is  to  be  Comptroller-General 
of  the  London  Cries,  which  are  at  present  under  no  man- 
ner of  rules  and  discipline.  I  think  I  am  pretty  well 
qualified  for  this  place,  as  being  a  man  of  very  strong 
lungs,    of    great    insight    into    all    the   branches    of    our 

^  — A  hundred  mouths,  a  hundred  tongues, 
And   throats   of   brass   inspir'd   with   iron   lungs. 


282  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

British  trades  and  manufactures,  and  of  a  competent  skill 
in  music. 

"The  Cries  of  London  may  be  divided  into  vocal  and 
instrumental.  As  for  the  latter,  they  are  at  present  under 
a  very  great  disorder.  A  freeman  of  London  has  the  privi- 
lege of  disturbing  a  whole  street  for  an  hour  together, 
with  the  twanking  of  a  brass  kettle  or  frying-pan.  The 
watchman's  thump  at  midnight  startles  us  in  our  beds, 
as  much  as  the  breaking  in  of  a  thief.  The  sowgelder's 
horn  has  indeed  something  musical  in  it,  but  this  is 
seldom  heard  within  the  liberties.  I  would  therefore 
propose,  that  no  instrument  of  this  nature  should  be  made 
use  of,  which  I  have  not  tuned  and  licensed,  after  having 
carefully  examined  in  what  manner  it  may  affect  the 
ears  of  her  Majesty's  liege  subjects. 

^^Vocal  cries  are  of  a  much  larger  extent,  and  indeed 
so  full  of  incongruities  and  barbarisms,  that  we  appear 
a  distracted  city  to  foreigners,  who  do  not  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  such  enormous  outcries.  Milk  is  generally 
sold  in  a  note  above  E-la,  and  in  sounds  so  exceedingly 
shrill,  that  it  often  sets  our  teeth  on  edge.  The  chimney- 
sweeper is  confined  to  no  certain  pitch;  he  sometimes 
utters  himself  in  the  deepest  base,  and  sometimes  in  the 
sharpest  treble;  sometimes  in  the  highest,  and  sometimes 
in  the  lowest  note  of  the  gamut.  The  same  observation 
might  be  made  on  the  retailers  of  small-coal,  not  to  men- 
tion broken  glasses  or  brick-dust.  In  these,  therefore,  and 
the  like  cases,  it  should  be  my  care  to  sweeten  and  mellow 
the  voices  of  these  itinerant  tradesmen,  before  they  make 
their  appearance  in  our  streets,  as  also  to  acommodate 
their  cries  to  their  respective  wares:  and  to  take  care 
in  particular,  that  those  may  not  make  the  most  noise 
who  have  the  least  to  sell,  which  is  very  observable  in 
the  vendors  of  card-matches,  to  whom  I  cannot  but  apply 
the  old  proverb  of  ^Much  cry  but  little  wool.' 

"Some  of  these  last-mentioned  musicians  are  so  very 
loud  in  the  sale  of  these  trifling  manufactures,  that  an 
honest  splenetic  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  bargained 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  283 

with  one  of  tliem  never  to  come  into  the  street  where 
he  lived.  But  what  was  the  effect  of  this  contract  ?  Why, 
the  whole  tribe  of  card  match-makers,  which  frequent  that 
quarter,  passed  by  his  door  the  very  next  day,  in  hopes 
of  being  bought  off  after  the  same  manner. 

"It  is  another  great  imperfection  in  our  London  Cries, 
that  there  is  no  just  time  nor  measure  observed  in  them. 
Our  news  should  indeed  be  published  in  a  very  quick 
time,  because  it  is  a  commodity  that  will  not  keep  cold. 
It  should  not,  however,  be  cried  with  the  same  precipita- 
tion as  fire.  Yet  this  is  generally  the  case.  A  bloody 
battle  alarms  the  town  from  one  end  to  another  in  an 
instant.  Every  motion  of  the  French  is  published  in  so 
great  a  hurry,  that  one  would  think  the  enemy  were  at 
our  gates.  This  likewise  I  would  take  upon  me  to  regu- 
late in  such  a  manner,  that  there  should  be  some  distinc- 
tion made  between  the  spreading  of  a  victory,  a  march, 
or  an  encampment,  a  Dutch,  a  Portugal,  or  a  Spanish 
mail.  Nor  must  I  omit  under  this  head  those  excessive 
alarms  with  which  several  boisterous  rustics  infest  our 
streets  in  turnip-season;  and  which  are  more  inexcusable, 
because  these  are  wares  which  are  in  no  danger  of  cooling 
upon  their  hands. 

"There  are  others  who  affect  a  very  slow  time,  and  are 
in  my  opinion  much  more  tuneable  than  the  former. 
The  cooper  in  particular  swells  his  last  note  in  an  hollow 
voice,  that  is  not  without  its  harmony;  nor  can  I  forbear 
being  inspired  with  a  most  agreeable  melancholy,  when  I 
hear  that  sad  and  solemn  air  with  which  the  public  are 
very  often  asked,  if  they  have  any  chairs  to  mend  ?  Your 
own  memory  may  suggest  to  you  many  other  lamentable 
ditties  of  the  same  nature,  in  which  the  music  is  wonder- 
fully languishing  and  melodious. 

"I  am  always  pleased  with  that  particular  time  of  the 
year  which  is  proper  for  the  pickling  of  dill  and  cucum- 
bers ;  but,  alas !  this  cry,  like  the  song  of  the  nightingale, 
is  not  heard  above  two  months.    It  would  therefore  be 


284  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

worth  while  to  consider,  whether  the  same  air  might  not 
in  some  eases  be  adapted  to  other  words. 

^^It  might  likewise  deserve  our  most  serious  considera- 
tion, how  far,  in  a  well-regulated  city,  those  humorists 
are  to  be  tolerated,  who,  not  contented  with  the  traditional 
cries  of  their  forefathers,  have  invented  particular  songs 
and  tunes  of  their  own :  such  as  was,  not  many  years  since, 
the  pastryman,  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  the  CoUy- 
MoUy-Puff ;  ^  and  such  as  is  at  this  day  the  vendor  of 
powder  and  wash-balls,  who,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  goes 
under  the  name  of  Powder-Wat. 

^T[  must  not  here  omit  one  particular  absurdity  which 
runs  through  this  whole  vociferous  generation,  and  which 
renders  their  cries  very  often  not  only  incommodious,  but 
altogether  useless  to  the  public.  I  mean  that  idle  accom- 
plishment, which  they  all  of  them  aim  at,  of  crying  so  as 
not  to  be  understood.  Whether  or  not  they  have  learned 
this  from  several  of  our  affected  singers,  I  will  not  take 
upon  me  to  say;  but  most  certain  it  is,  that  people  know 
the  wares  they  deal  in  rather  by  their  tunes  than  by  their 
words;  insomuch  that  I  have  sometimes  seen  a  country 
boy  run  out  to  buy  apples  of  a  bellows-mender,  and  ginger- 
bread from  a  grinder  of  knives  and  scissors.  Nay,  so 
strangely  infatuated  are  some  very  eminent  artists  of  this 
particular  grace  in  a  cry,  that  none  but  their  acquaintance 
are  able  to  guess  at  their  profession;  for  who  else  can 
know,  that  Vork  if  I  had  it,'  should  be  the  signification 
of  a  corn-cutter. 

^Torasmuch,  therefore,  as  persons  of  this  rank  are 
seldom  men  of  genius  or  capacity,  I  think  it  would  be 
proper  that  some  man  of  good  sense  and  profound  judg- 
ment should  preside  over  these  public  cries,  who  should 
permit  none  to  lift  up  their  voices  in  our  streets,  that  have 
not  tuneable  throats,  and  are  not  only  able  to  overcome 
the  noise  of  the  crowd,  and  the  rattling  of  coaches,  but 

*  This  little  man  was  only  able  to  support  the  basket  of  pastry 
which  he  carried  on  his  head,  and  sung  in  a  very  peculiar  tone 
the   cant  words  which   passed  into  his  name.     Colly-Molly-Puff. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  285 

also  to  vend  their  respective  merchandise  in  apt  phrases, 
and  in  the  most  distinct  and  agreeable  sounds.  I  do 
therefore  himibly  recommend  myseli  as  a  person  rightly 
qualified  for  this  post ;  and,  if  I  meet  with  fitting  encour- 
agement, shall  communicate  some  other  projects  which 
I  have  by  me,  that  may  no  less  conduce  to  the  emolument 
of  the  public. 

'1  am,  'Sir,  &c. 
C.  'TRalph  Crotchet/' 


[Spectator  No.  269.    Tuesday,  January  8,  1711-12. 
Addison.] 

JEvo  rarissima  nostro 

Simplicitas .*  — Ovm. 

I  was  this  morning  surprised  with  a  great  knocking  at 
the  door,  when  my  landlady's  daughter  came  up  to  me 
and  told  me  that  there  was  a  man  below  desired  to  speak 
with  me.  Upon  my  asking  her  who  it  was,  she  told  me 
it  was  a  very  grave,  elderly  person,  but  that  she  did  not 
know  his  name.  I  immediately  went  down  to  him,  and 
found  him  to  be  the  coachman  of  my  worthy  friend.  Sir 
Roger  de  Coverley.  He  told  me  that  his  master  came 
to  town  last  night,  and  would  be  glad  to  take  a  turn  with 
me  in  Gray's  Inn  Walks.  As  I  was  wondering  in  myself 
what  had  brought  Sir  Eoger  to  town,  not  having  lately 
received  any  letter  from  him,  he  told  me  that  his  master 
was  come  up  to  get  a  sight  of  Prince  Eugene,  and  that  he 
desired  I  would  immediately  meet  him. 

I  was  not  a  little  pleased  with  the  curiosity  of  the  old 
knight,  though  I  did  not  much  wonder  at  it,  having  heard 
him  say  more  than  once  in  private  discourse  that  he 
looked  upon  Prince  Eugenio  (for  so  the  knight  always 
calls  him)  to  be  a  greater  man  than  Scanderbeg. 

I  was  no  sooner  come  into  Gray's  Inn  Walks,  but  I 

» ''Most   rare   is   now   our   old    simpUcity." — Dbtdih. 


286  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

heard  my  friend  upon  the  terrace  hemming  twice  or  thrice 
to  himself  with  great  vigor,  for  he  loves  to  clear  his 
pipes  in  good  air  (to  make  use  of  his  own  phrase),  and  is 
not  a  little  pleased  with  any  one  who  takes  notice  of 
the  strength  which  he  still  exerts  in  his  morning  hems. 

I  was  touched  with  a  secret  joy  at  the  sight  of  the  good 
old  man,  who  before  he  saw  me  was  engaged  in  conver- 
sation with  a  beggarman  that  had  asked  an  alms  of  him. 
I  could  hear  my  friend  chide  him  for  not  finding  out  some 
work;  but  at  the  same  time  saw  him  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  and  give  him  sixpence. 

Our  salutations  were  very  hearty  on  both  sides,  consist- 
ing of  many  kind  shakes  of  the  hand,  and  several  affec- 
tionate looks  which  we  cast  upon  one  another.  After 
which  the  knight  told  me  my  good  friend  his  chaplain  was 
very  well,  and  much  at  my  service,  and  that  the  Sunday 
before  he  had  made  a  most  incomparable  sermon  out  of 
Doctor  Barrow.  "I  have  left,"  says  he,  "all  my  affairs 
in  his  hands,  and  being  willing  to  lay  an  obligation  upon 
him,  have  deposited  with  him  thirty  marks,  to  be  dis- 
tributed among  his  poor  parishioners.'' 

He  then  proceeded  to  acquaint  me  with  the  welfare 
of  Will  Wimble.  Upon  which  he  put  his  hand  into  his 
fob  and  presented  me,  in  his  name,  with  a  tobacco-stopper, 
telling  me  that  Will  had  been  busy  all  the  beginning  of 
the  winter  in  turning  great  quantities  of  them,  and  that 
he  made  a  present  of  one  to  every  gentleman  in  the 
country  who  has  good  principles  and  smokes.  He  added 
that  poor  Will  was  at  present  under  great  tribulation,  for 
that  Tom  Touchy  had  taken  the  law  of  him  for  cutting 
some  hazel  sticks  out  of  one  of  his  hedges. 

Among  other  pieces  of  news  which  the  knight  brought 
from  his  country-seat,  he  informed  me  that  Moll  White 
was  dead;  and  that  about  a  month  after  her  death  the 
wind  was  so  very  high  that  it  blew  down  the  end  of  one 
of  his  barns.  ^TBut  for  my  own  part,"  says  Sir  Koger,  ^^I 
do  not  think  that  the  old  woman  had  any  hand  in  it." 

He  afterward  fell  into  an  account  of  the  diversions 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  287 

which  had  passed  in  his  house  during  the  holidays ;  for  Sir 
Roger,  after  the  laudable  custom  of  his  ancestors,  always 
keeps  open  house  at  Christmas.  I  learned  from  him 
that  he  had  killed  eight  fat  hogs  for  the  season,  that  he 
had  dealt  about  his  chines  very  liberally  amongst  hia 
neighbors,  and  that  in  particular  he  had  sent  a  string 
of  hog's-puddings  with  a  pack  of  cards  to  every  poor 
family  in  the  parish.  ^^I  have  often  thought,"  says  Sir 
Eoger,  "it  happens  very  well  that  Christmas  should  fall 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  winter.  It  is  the  most  dead, 
uncomfortable  time  of  the  year,  when  the  poor  people 
would  suffer  very  much  from  their  poverty  and  cold,  if 
they  had  not  good  cheer,  warm  fires,  and  Christmas  gam- 
bols to  support  them.  I  love  to  rejoice  their  poor  hearts 
at  this  season,  and  to  see  the  whole  village  merry  in  my 
great  hall.  I  allow  a  double  quantity  of  malt  to  my  small 
beer,  and  set  it  a  running  for  twelve  days  to  every  one 
that  calls  for  it.  I  have  always  a  piece  of  cold  beef  and 
a  mince-pie  upon  the  table,  and  am  wonderfully  pleased  to 
see  my  tenants  pass  away  a  whole  evening  in  playing 
their  innocent  tricks,  and  smutting  one  another.  Our 
friend  Will  Wimble  is  as  merry  as  any  of  them,  and 
shews  a  thousand  roguish  tricks  upon  these  occasions." 

I  was  very  much  delighted  with  the  reflection  of  my 
old  friend,  which  carried  so  much  goodness  in  it.  He  then 
launched  out  into  the  praise  of  the  late  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment for  securing  the  Church  of  England,  and  told  me, 
with  great  satisfaction,  that  he  believed  it  already  began 
to  take  effect,  for  that  a  rigid  Dissenter,  who  chanced  to 
dine  at  his  house  on  Christmas  Day,  had  been  observed 
to  eat  very  plentifully  of  his  plum-porridge. 

After  having  dispatched  all  our  country  matters.  Sir 
Koger  made  several  inquiries  concerning  the  club,  and 
particularly  of  his  old  antagonist.  Sir  Andrew  Freeport. 
He  asked  me  with  a  kind  of  smile  whether  Sir  Andrew 
had  not  taken  advantage  of  his  absence  to  vent  among 
them  some  of  his  republican  doctrines;  but  soon  after, 
gathering  up  his  countenance  into  a  more  than  ordinary 


288  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

seriousness,  ^Tell  me  truly/*  says  he,  "don't  you  think 
Sir  Andrew  had  a  hand  in  the  Pope's  Procession!" — ^but 
without  giving  me  time  to  answer  him,  "Well,  well,"  says 
he,  ^^I  know  you  are  a  wary  man,  and  do  not  care  to  talk 
of  public  matters." 

The  knight  then  asked  me  if  I  had  seen  Prince  Eugenio, 
and  made  me  promise  to  get  him  a  stand  in  some  con- 
venient place,  where  he  might  have  a  full  sight  of  that 
extraordinary  man,  whose  presence  does  so  much  honor 
to  the  British  nation. 

He  dwelt  very  long  on  the  praises  of  this  great  general, 
and  I  found  that,  since  I  was  with  him  in  the  country, 
he  had  drawn  many  observations  together  out  of  his  read- 
ing in  Baker's  Chronicle,  and  other  authors  who  always 
lie  in  his  hall  window,  which  very  much  redound  to  the 
honor  of  this  prince. 

Having  passed  away  the  greatest  part  of  the  morning 
in  hearing  the  knight's  reflections,  which  were  partly 
private  and  partly  political,  he  asked  me  if  I  would  smoke 
a  pipe  with  him  over  a  dish  of  coffee  at  Squire's.  As  I 
love  the  old  man,  I  take  delight  in  complying  with  every- 
thing that  is  agreeable  to  him,  and  accordingly  waited 
on  him  to  the  coffee-house,  where  his  venerable  figure 
drew  upon  us  the  eyes  of  the  whole  room.  He  had  no 
sooner  seated  himself  at  the  upper  end  of  the  high  table, 
but  he  called  for  a  clean  pipe,  a  paper  of  tobacco,  a  dish 
of  coffee,  a  wax  candle,  and  The  Supplement,  with  such 
an  air  of  cheerfulness  and  good  humor  that  all  the  boys 
in  the  coffee-room,  who  eeemed  to  take  pleasure  in  serving 
him,  were  at  once  employed  on  his  several  errands,  inso- 
much that  nobody  else  could  come  at  a  dish  of  tea  till 
the  knight  had  got  all  his  conveniences  about  him. 

L. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  289 


[Spectator  No.  275.    Tuesday,  January  15,  1711-12. 
Addison.] 

— tribus  Anticyris  caput  insanabile — * 

—Hob.  Ars  Poet.  300. 

I  was  yesterday  engaged  in  an  assembly  of  virtuosos, 
where  one  of  them  produced  many  curious  observations 
which  he  had  lately  made  in  the  anatomy  of  an  human 
body.  Another  of  the  company  communicated  to  us  sev- 
eral wonderful  discoveries,  which  he  had  also  made  on 
the  same  subject  by  the  help  of  very  fine  glasses.  This 
gave  birth  to  a  great  variety  of  uncommon  remarks,  and 
furnished  discourse  for  the  remaining  part  of  the  day. 

The  different  opinions  which  were  started  on  this  occa- 
sion, presented  to  my  imagination  so  many  new  ideas, 
that,  by  mixing  with  those  which  were  already  there, 
they  employed  my  fancy  all  the  last  night,  and  composed 
a  very  wild  extravagant  dream. 

I  was  invited  methought  to  the  dissection  of  a  beau's 
head  and  of  a  coquette's  heart,  which  were  both  of  them 
laid  on  a  table  before  us.  An  imaginary  operator  opened 
the  first  with  a  great  deal  of  nicety,  which,  upon  a  cursory 
and  superficial  view,  appeared  like  the  head  of  another 
man;  but  upon  applying  our  glasses  to  it,  we  made  a  very 
odd  discovery,  namely,  that  what  we  looked  upon  as  brains, 
were  not  such  in  reality,  but  an  heap  of  strange  materials 
wound  up  in  that  shape  and  texture,  and  packed  together 
with  wonderful  art  in  the  several  cavities  of  the  skull. 
For,  as  Homer  tells  us  that  the  blood  of  the  gods  is  not 
real  blood,  but  only  something  like  it;  so  we  found  that 
the  brain  of  a  beau  is  not  a  real  brain,  but  only  some- 
thing like  it. 

The  pineal  gland,  which  many  of  our  modem  philoso- 
phers suppose  to  be  the  seat  of  the  soul,  smelt  very  strong 
of  essence  and  orange-flower  water,  and  was  encompassed 

*A  head  no  hellebore  can  cure. 


290  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

with  a  kind  of  homy  substance,  cut  into  a  thousand  little 
faces  or  mirrors  which  were  imperceptible  to  the  naked 
eye,  insomuch  that  the  soul,  if  there  had  been  any  here, 
must  have  been  always  taken  up  in  contemplating  her 
own  beauties. 

We  observed  a  large  antrum  or  cavity  in  the  sinciput, 
that  was  filled  with  ribands,  lace  and  embroidery,  wrought 
together  in  a  most  curious  piece  of  net-work,  the  parts 
of  which  were  likewise  imperceptible  to  the  naked  eye. 
Another  of  these  antrums  or  cavities  was  stuffed  with 
invisible  billet-doux,  love-letters,  pricked  dances,  and  other 
trumpery  of  the  same  nature.  In  another  we  found  a 
kind  of  powder,  which  set  the  whole  company  a  sneezing, 
and  by  the  scent  discovered  itself  to  be  right  Spanish. 
The  several  other  cells  were  stored  with  commodities  of 
the  same  kind,  of  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  give  the 
reader  an  exact  inventory. 

There  was  a  large  cavity  on  each  side  the  head,  which 
I  must  not  omit.  That  on  the  right  side  was  filled  with 
fictions,  flatteries,  and  falsehoods,  vows,  promises,  and 
protestations;  that  on  the  left,  with  oaths  and  impreca- 
tions. There  issued  out  a  duct  from  each  of  these  cells, 
which  ran  into  the  root  of  the  tongue,  where  both  joined 
together,  and  passed  forward  in  one  common  duct  to  the 
tip  of  it.  We  discovered  several  little  roads  or  canals 
running  from  the  ear  into  the  brain,  and  took  particular 
care  to  trace  them  out  through  their  several  passages. 
One  of  them  extended  itseK  into  a  bundle  of  sonnets  and 
little  musical  instruments.  Others  ended  in  several  blad- 
ders which  were  filled  either  with  wind  or  froth.  But  the 
large  canal  entered  into  a  great  cavity  in  the  skull,  from 
whence  there  went  another  canal  into  the  tongue.  This 
great  cavity  was  filled  with  a  kind  of  spongy  substance, 
which  the  French  anatomists  called  galimatias,  and  the 
English,  nonsense. 

The  skins  of  the  forehead  were  extremely  tough  and 
thick,  and,  what  very  much  surprised  us,  had  not  in 
them  any  single  blood-vessel  that  we  were  able  to  dis- 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  291 

cover,  either  with  or  without  our  glasses;  from  whence 
we  concluded,  that  the  party  when  alive  must  have  been 
entirely  deprived  of  the  faculty  of  blushing. 

The  OS  cribriforme  was  exceedingly  stuffed,  and  in  some 
places  damaged  with  snuff.  We  could  not  but  take  notice 
in  particular  of  that  small  muscle  which  is  not  often 
discovered  in  dissections,  and  draws  the  nose  upwards, 
when  it  expresses  the  contempt  which  the  owner  of  it  has, 
upon  seeing  anything  he  does  not  like,  or  hearing  any- 
thing he  does  not  understand.  I  need  not  tell  my  learned 
reader,  this  is  that  muscle  which  performs  the  motion  so 
often  mentioned  by  the  Latin  poets,  when  they  talk  of  a 
man's  cocking  his  nose,  or  playing  the  rhinoceros. 

We  did  not  find  anything  very  remarkable  in  the  eye, 
saving  only  that  the  musculi  amatorii,  or,  as  we  may 
translate  it  into  English,  the  ogling  muscles,  were  very 
much  worn  and  decayed  with  use;  whereas,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  elevator,  or  the  muscle  which  turns  the  eye 
towards  heaven,  did  not  appear  to  have  been  used  at  all. 

I  have  only  mentioned  in  this  dissection  such  new  dis- 
coveries as  we  were  able  to  make,  and  have  not  taken 
any  notice  of  those  parts  which  are  to  be  met  with  in 
common  heads.  As  for  the  skull,  the  face,  and  indeed 
the  whole  outward  shape  and  figure  of  the  head,  we  could 
not  discover  any  difference  from  what  we  observe  in  the 
heads  of  other  men.  We  were  informed  that  the  person 
to  whom  this  head  belonged,  had  passed  for  a  man  above 
five  and  thirty  years ;  during  which  time  he  ate  and  drank 
like  other  people,  dressed  well,  talked  loud,  laughed  fre- 
quently, and  on  particular  occasions  had  acquitted  him- 
self tolerably  at  a  ball  or  an  assembly;  to  which  one  of 
the  company  added,  that  a  certain  knot  of  ladies  took  him 
for  a  wit.  He  was  cut  off  in  the  flower  of  his  age  by 
the  blow  of  a  paring  shovel,  having  been  surprised  by 
an  eminent  citizen,  as  he  was  tendering  some  civilities 
to  his  wife. 

When  we  had  thoroughly  examined  this  head  with  all 
its  apartments,  and  its  several  kinds  of  furniture,  we  put 


292  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

up  the  brain,  such  as  it  was,  into  its  proper  place,  and 
laid  it  aside  under  a  broad  piece  of  scarlet  cloth,  in  order 
to  be  prepared,  and  kept  in  a  great  repository  of  dissec- 
tions; our  operator  telling  us  that  the  preparation  would 
not  be  so  difficult  as  that  of  another  brain,  for  that  he 
bad  observed  several  of  the  little  pipes  and  tubes  which 
ran  through  the  brain  were  already  filled  with  a  kind  of 
mercurial  substance,  which  he  looked  upon  to  be  true 
quicksilver. 

He  applied  himself  in  the  next  place  to  the  coquette's 
heart,  which  he  likewise  laid  open  with  great  dexterity. 
There  occurred  to  us  many  particularities  in  this  dissec- 
tion; but  being  unwilling  to  burthen  my  reader's  memory 
too  much,  I  shall  reserve  this  subject  for  the  speculation 
of  another  day.  L. 


[Spectator  No.  280.    Monday,  January  21,  1711-12. 
Steele.] 

Principibus  placuisse  viris  non  ultima  laus  est.* 

— Hob.  1  Ep.  xvii.  35. 

The  desire  of  pleasing  makes  a  man  agreeable  or  un- 
welcome to  those  with  whom  he  converses,  according  to 
the  motive  from  which  that  inclination  appears  to  flow. 
If  your  concern  for  pleasing  others  arises  from  an  innate 
benevolence,  it  never  fails  of  success;  if  from  a  vanity 
to  excel,  its  disappointment  is  no  less  certain.  What  we 
call  an  agreeable  man,  is  he  who  is  endowed  with  that 
natural  bent  to  do  acceptable  things  from  a  delight  he 
takes  in  them  merely  as  such;  and  the  affectation  of 
that  character  is  what  constitutes  a  fop.  Under  these 
leaders  one  may  draw  up  all  those  who  make  any  manner 
of  figure,  except  in  dumb  show.  A  rational  and  select 
conversation  is  composed  of  persons  who  have  the  talent 
of  pleasing  with   delicacy   of   sentiments,   flowing   from 

*  To  please  the  great  is  not  the  smaUest  praise. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  293 

habitual  chastity  of  thought;  but  mixed  company  is  fre- 
quently made  up  of  pretenders  to  mirth,  and  is  usually 
pestered  with  constrained,  obscene,  and  painful  witticisms. 
Now  and  then  you  meet  with  a  man  so  exactly  formed 
for  pleasing,  that  it  is  no  matter  what  he  is  doing  or 
saying,  that  is  to  say,  that  there  need  be  no  manner  of 
importance  in  it,  to  make  him  gain  upon  everybody  who 
hears  or  beholds  him.  This  felicity  is  not  the  gift  of 
nature  only,  but  must  be  attended  with  happy  circum- 
stances, which  add  a  dignity  to  the  familiar  behavior 
which  distinguishes  him  whom  we  call  an  agreeable  man. 
It  is  from  this  that  everybody  loves  and  esteems  Poly- 
carpus.  He  is  in  the  vigor  of  his  age  and  the  gaiety  of 
life,  but  has  passed  through  very  conspicuous  scenes  in  it : 
though  no  soldier,  he  has  shared  the  danger,  and  acted 
with  great  gallantry  and  generosity  on  a  decisive  day  of 
battle.  To  have  those  qualities  which  only  make  other 
men  conspicuous  in  the  world  as  it  were  supernumerary 
to  him,  is  a  circumstance  which  gives  weight  to  his  most 
indifferent  actions;  for  as  a  known  credit  is  ready  cash 
to  a  trader,  so  is  acknowledged  merit  immediate  distinc- 
tion, and  serves  in  the  place  of  equipage,  to  a  gentleman. 
This  renders  Polycarpus  graceful  in  mirth,  important  in 
business,  and  regarded  with  love  in  every  ordinary  occur- 
rence. But  not  to  dwell  upon  characters  which  have 
such  particular  recommendations  to  our  hearts,  let  us 
turn  our  thoughts  rather  to  the  methods  of  pleasing  which 
must  carry  men  through  the  world,  who  cannot  pretend 
to  such  advantages.  Falling  in  with  the  particular  humor 
or  manner  of  one  above  you,  abstracted  from  the  general 
rules  of  good  behavior,  is  the  life  of  a  slave.  A  parasite 
differs  in  nothing  from  the  meanest  servant,  but  that  the 
footman  hires  himseK  for  bodily  labor,  subjected  to  go 
and  come  at  the  will  of  his  master,  but  the  other  gives 
up  his  very  soul :  he  is  prostituted  to  speak,  and  professes 
to  think  after  the  mode  of  him  whom  he  courts.  This 
servitude  to  a  patron,  in  an  honest  nature,  would  be  more 
grievous  than  that  of  wearing  his  livery;  therefore  we 


294  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

shall  speak  of  those  methods  only  which  are  worthy  and 
ingenuous. 

The  happy  talent  of  pleasing  either  those  above  you  or 
below  you,  seems  to  be  wholly  owing  to  the  opinion  they 
have  of  your  sincerity.  This  quality  is  to  attend  the  agree- 
able man  in  all  the  actions  of  his  life;  and  I  think  there 
need  be  no  more  said  in  honor  of  it,  than  that  it  is  what 
forces  the  approbation  even  of  your  opponents.  The 
guilty  man  has  an  honor  for  the  judge  who  with  justice 
pronounces  against  him  the  sentence  of  death  itself. 
The  author  of  the  sentence  at  the  head  of  this  paper  was 
an  excellent  judge  of  human  life,  and  passed  his  own  in 
company  the  most  agreeable  that  ever  was  in  the  world. 
Augustus  lived  amongst  his  friends  as  if  he  had  his 
fortune  to  make  in  his  own  court.  Candor  and  affability, 
accompanied  with  as  much  power  as  ever  mortal  was 
vested  with,  were  what  made  him  in  the  utmost  manner 
agreeable  among  a  set  of  admirable  men,  who  had  thoughts 
too  high  for  ambition,  and  views  too  large  to  be  gratified 
by  what  he  could  give  them  in  the  disposal  of  an  empire, 
without  the  pleasures  of  their  mutual  conversation.  A 
certain  unanimity  of  taste  and  judgment,  which  is  natu- 
ral to  all  of  the  same  order  in  the  species,  was  the  band 
of  this  society;  and  the  emperor  assumed  no  figure  in  it 
but  what  he  thought  was  his  due  from  his  private  talents 
and  qualifications,  as  they  contributed  to  advance  the 
pleasures  and  sentiments  of  the  company. 

Cunning  people,  hypocrites,  all  who  are  but  half  virtu- 
ous, or  half  wise,  are  incapable  of  tasting  the  refined 
pleasures  of  such  an  equal  company  as  could  wholly  ex- 
clude the  regard  of  fortune  in  their  conversations. 
Horace,  in  the  discourse  from  whence  I  take  the  hint  of 
the  present  speculation,  lays  down  excellent  rules  for  con- 
duct in  conversation  with  men  of  power;  but  he  speaks 
it  with  an  air  of  one  who  had  no  need  of  such  an  appli- 
cation for  anything  which  related  to  himself.  It  shows 
he  understood  what  it  was  to  be  a  skiKul  courtier,  by 
just  admonitions  against  importunity,  and  showing  how 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  295 

forcible  it  was  to  speak  modestly  of  your  own  wants. 
There  is  indeed  something  so  shameless  in  taking  all 
opportunities  to  speak  of  your  own  affairs,  that  he  who 
is  guilty  of  it  towards  him  upon  whom  he  depends,  fares 
like  the  beggar  who  exposes  his  sores,  which,  instead  of 
moving  compassion,  makes  the  man  he  begs  of  turn  away 
from  the  object. 

I  cannot  tell  what  is  become  of  him,  but  I  remember 
about  sixteen  years  ago  an  honest  fellow,  who  so  justly 
understood  how  disagreeable  mention  or  appearance  of 
his  wants  would  make  him,  that  I  have  often  reflected 
upon  him  as  a  counterpart  of  Irus,  whom  I  have  formerly 
mentioned.  This  man,  whom  I  have  missed  for  some 
years  in  my  walks,  and  have  heard  was  some  way  em- 
ployed about  the  army,  made  it  a  maxim,  that  good  wigs, 
delicate  linen,  and  a  cheerful  air,  were  to  a  poor  depen- 
dent the  same  that  working  tools  are  to  a  poor  artificer. 
It  was  no  small  entertainment  to  me,  who  knew  his 
circumstances,  to  see  him,  who  had  fasted  two  days, 
attribute  the  thinness  they  told  him  of,  to  the  violence 
of  some  gallantries  he  had  lately  been  guilty  of.  The 
skilful  dissembler  carried  this  on  with  the  utmost  address ; 
and  if  any  suspected  his  affairs  were  narrow,  it  was 
attributed  to  indulging  himself  in  some  fashionable  vice 
rather  than  an  irreproachable  poverty,  which  saved  his 
credit  with  those  on  whom  he  depended. 

The  main  art  is  to  be  as  little  troublesome  as  you  can, 
and  make  all  you  hope  for  come  rather  as  a  favor  from 
your  patron  than  claim  from  you.  But  I  am  here  prating 
of  what  is  the  method  of  pleasing  so  as  to  succeed  in 
the  world,  when  there  are  crowds  who  have,  in  city,  town, 
court,  and  country,  arrived  to  considerable  acquisitions, 
and  yet  seem  incapable  of  acting  in  any  constant  tenor  of 
life,  but  have  gone  on  from  one  successful  error  to  an- 
other: therefore  I  think  I  may  shorten  this  inquiry  after 
the  method  of  pleasing ;  and  as  the  old  beau  said  to  his  son, 
once  for  all,  ^Tray,  Jack,  be  a  fine  gentleman;"  so  may  I 


296  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

to  my  reader,  abridge  my  instructions,  and  finish  the  art 
of  pleasing  in  a  word,  "Be  rich/'  T. 


[Spectator  No.  281.    Tuesday,  January  22,  1711-12. 
Addison.] 

Pectoribus  inhians  spirantia  consulit  erta.^ 

— ViBQ.  -^n.  iv.  64. 

Having  already  given  an  account  of  the  dissection  of  a 
beau's  head,  with  the  several  discoveries  made  on  that 
occasion;  I  shall  here,  according  to  my  promise,  enter 
upon  the  dissection  of  a  coquette's  heart,  and  communicate 
to  the  public  such  particularities  as  we  observed  in  that 
curious  piece  of  anatomy. 

I  should  perhaps  have  waived  this  undertaking,  had 
not  I  been  put  in  mind  of  my  promise  by  several  of  my 
unknown  correspondents,  who  are  very  importunate  wtth 
me  to  make  an  example  of  the  coquette,  as  I  have  already 
done  of  the  beau.  It  is  therefore,  in  compliance  with  the 
request  of  friends,  that  I  have  looked  over  the  minutes  of 
my  former  dream,  in  order  to  give  the  public  an  exact 
relation  of  it,  which  I  shall  enter  upon  without  farther 
preface. 

Our  operator,  before  he  engaged  in  this  visionary  dis- 
section, told  us  that  there  was  nothing  in  his  art  more 
difficult  than  to  lay  open  the  heart  of  a  coquette,  by 
reason  of  the  many  labyrinths  and  recesses  which  are  to 
be  found  in  it,  and  which  do  not  appear  in  the  heart 
of  any  other  animal. 

He  desired  us  first  of  all  to  observe  the  pericardium, 
or  outward  case  of  the  heart,  which  we  did  very  atten- 
tively; and  by  the  help  of  our  glasses  discerned  in  it 
millions  of  little  scars,  which  seemed  to  have  been  occa- 
sioned by  the  points  of  innumerable  darts  and  arrows, 
that  from  time  to  time  had  glanced  upon  the  outward 

*  Anxious  the  reeking  entrails  he   consults. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  297 

coat;  thougli  we  could  not  discover  the  smallest  orifice 
by  which  any  of  them  had  entered  and  pierced  the  inward 
substance. 

Every  smatterer  in  anatomy  knows  that  this  pericar- 
dium, or  case  of  the  heart,  contains  in  it  a  thin  reddish 
liquor,  supposed  to  be  bred  from  the  vapors  which  exhale 
out  of  the  heart,  and  being  stopped  here,  are  condensed 
into  this  watery  substance.  Upon  examining  this  liquor, 
we  found  that  it  had  in  it  all  the  qualities  of  that  spirit 
which  is  made  use  of  in  the  thermometer  to  show  the 
change  of  weather. 

Nor  must  I  here  omit  an  experiment  one  of  the  company 
assured  us  he  himseK  had  made  with  this  liquor,  which 
he  found  in  great  quantity  about  the  heart  of  a  coquette 
whom  he  had  formerly  dissected.  He  affirmed  to  us,  that 
he  had  actually  inclosed  it  in  a  small  tube  made  after 
the  manner  of  a  weather-glass;  but  that,  instead  of  ac- 
quainting him  with  the  variations  of  the  atmosphere,  it 
showed  him  the  qualities  of  those  persons  who  entered 
the  room  where  it  stood.  He  affirmed  also,  that  it  rose 
at  the  approach  of  a  plume  of  feathers,  an  embroidered 
coat,  or  a  pair  of  fringed  gloves;  and  that  it  fell  as  soon 
as  an  ill-shaped  periwig,  a  clumsy  pair  of  shoes,  or  an 
unfashionable  coat  came  into  his  house.  Nay,  he  pro- 
ceeded so  far  as  to  assure  us,  that  upon  his  laughing  aloud 
when  he  stood  by  it,  the  liquor  mounted  very  sensibly, 
and  immediately  sunk  again  upon  his  looking  serious.  In 
short,  he  told  us  that  he  knew  very  well  by  this  invention, 
whenever  he  had  a  man  of  sense  or  a  coxcomb  in  his 
room. 

Having  cleared  away  the  pericardium,  or  the  case,  and 
liquor  above-mentioned,  we  came  to  the  heart  itself.  The 
outward  surface  of  it  was  extremely  slippery,  and  the 
mucro,  or  point,  so  very  cold  withal,  that  upon  endeavor- 
ing to  take  hold  of  it,  it  glided  through  the  fingers  like  a 
smooth  piece  of  ice. 

The  fibers  were  turned  and  twisted  in  a  more  intricate 
and  perplexed  manner  than  they  are  usually  found  in 


298  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

other  hearts;  insomuch  that  the  whole  heart  was  wound 
up  together  like  a  Gordian  knot,  and  must  have  had  very 
irregular  and  unequal  motions,  while  it  was  employed  in 
its  vital  function. 

One  thing  we  thought  very  observable,  namely,  that 
upon  examining  all  the  vessels  which  came  into  it,  or 
issued  out  of  it,  we  could  not  discover  any  communica- 
tion that  it  had  with  the  tongue. 

We  could  not  but  take  notice  likewise  that  several  of 
those  little  nerves  in  the  heart  which  are  affected  by  the 
sentiments  of  love,  hatred,  and  other  passions,  did  not 
descend  to  this  before  us  from  the  brain,  but  from  the 
muscles  which  lie  about  the  eye. 

Upon  weighing  the  heart  in  my  hand,  I  found  it  to  be 
extremely  light,  and  consequently  very  hollow,  which  I 
did  not  wonder  at,  when,  upon  looking  into  the  inside  of 
it,  I  saw  multitudes  of  cells  and  cavities  running  one 
within  another,  as  our  historians  describe  the  apartments 
of  Rosamond's  bower.  Several  of  these  little  hollows  were 
stuffed  with  innumerable  sorts  of  trifles,  which  I  shall 
forbear  giving  any  particular  account  of,  and  shall, 
therefore,  only  take  notice  of  what  lay  first  and  upper- 
most, which,  upon  our  unfolding  it,  and  applying  our 
microscopes  to  it,  appeared  to  be  a  flame-colored  hood. 

We  are  informed  that  the  lady  of  this  heart,  when 
living,  received  the  addresses  of  several  who  made  love 
to  her,  and  did  not  only  give  each  of  them  encourage- 
ment, but  made  everyone  she  conversed  with  believe  that 
she  regarded  him  with  an  eye  of  kindness;  for  which 
reason  we  expected  to  have  seen  the  impression  of  multi- 
tudes of  faces  among  the  several  plaits  and  foldings  of  the 
heart;  but  to  our  great  surprise  not  a  single  print  of  this 
nature  discovered  itself  till  we  came  into  the  very  core 
and  center  of  it.  We  there  observed  a  little  figure,  which, 
upon  applying  our  glasses  to  it,  appeared  dressed  in  a 
very  fantastic  manner.  The  more  I  looked  upon  it,  the 
more  I  thought  I  had  seen  the  face  before,  but  could 
not  possibly  recollect  either  the  place  or  time;  when  at 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  299 

length  one  of  the  company,  who  had  examined  this  figure 
more  nicely  than  the  rest,  showed  us  plainly  by  the  make 
of  its  face,  and  the  several  turns  of  its  features,  that  the 
little  idol  which  was  thus  lodged  in  the  very  middle  of 
the  heart  was  the  deceased  beau,  whose  head  I  gave 
some  account  of  in  my  last  Tuesday's  paper. 

As  soon  as  we  had  finished  our  dissection,  we  resolved 
to  make  an  experiment  of  the  heart,  not  being  able  to 
determine  among  ourselves  the  nature  of  its  substance, 
which  differed  in  so  many  particulars  from  that  in  the 
heart  of  other  females.  Accordingly,  we  laid  it  into  a 
pan  of  burning  coals,  when  we  observed  in  it  a  certain 
salamandrine  quality,  that  made  it  capable  of  living  in 
the  midst  of  fire  and  flame,  without  being  consumed  or  so 
much  as  singed. 

As  we  were  admiring  this  strange  phenomenon,  and 
standing  round  the  heart  in  a  circle,  it  gave  a  most 
prodigious  sigh,  or  rather  crack,  and  dispersed  all  at  once 
in  smoke  and  vapor.  This  imaginary  noise,  which  me- 
thought  was  louder  than  the  burst  of  a  cannon,  produced 
such  a  violent  shake  in  my  brain,  that  it  dissipated  the 
fumes  of  sleep,  and  left  me  in  an  instant  broad  awake. 

L. 

[Spectator  No.  295.    Thursday,  February  7,  1711-12. 
Addison.] 

Prodiga  non  sen  tit  pereuntem  foemina  censum: 
At,  velut  exhausta  redivivus  pullulet  area 
Nummus,  et  e  pleno  semper  tollatur  acervo, 
Non  unquam  reputat,  quanti  sibi  gaudia  constent.* 

— Juv.  Sat.   vi.   362. 

'^Mr.  Spectator, 

"I  am  turned  of  my  great  climacteric,  and  am  naturally 
a  man  of  a  meek  temper.  About  a  dozen  years  ago  I  was 

1  But  womankind,  that  never  knows  a  mean, 
Down  to  the  dregs  their  sinking  fortunes  drain  : 
Hourly  they  give,   and  spend,   and  waste,  and  wear, 
And  think  no  pleasure  can  be  bought  too  dear. 


800  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

married,  for  my  sins,  to  a  young  woman  of  a  good  family 
and  of  a  high  spirit;  but  could  not  bring  her  to  close 
with  me  before  I  had  entered  into  a  treaty  with  her 
longer  than  that  of  the  grand  alliance.  Among  other 
articles,  it  was  therein  stipulated  that  she  should  have 
£400  a-year  for  pin-money,  which  I  obliged  myself  to 
pay  quarteriy  into  the  hands  of  one  who  acted  as  her 
plenipotentiary  in  that  affair.  I  have  ever  since  reli- 
giously observed  my  part  in  this  solemn  agreement.  Now, 
sir,  so  it  is,  that  the  lady  has  had  several  children  since 
I  married  her;  to  which,  if  I  should  credit  our  malicious 
neighbors,  her  pin-money  has  not  a  little  contributed. 
The  education  of  these  my  children,  who,  contrary  to  my 
expectation,  are  born  to  me  every  year,  straitens  me  so 
much  that  I  have  begged  their  mother  to  free  me  from 
the  obligation  of  the  above-mentioned  pin-money,  that 
it  may  go  towards  making  a  provision  for  her  family. 
This  proposal  makes  her  noble  blood  swell  in  her  veins, 
insomuch,  that  finding  me  a  little  tardy  in  her  last 
quarter's  payment,  she  threatens  me  every  day  to  arrest 
me;  and  proceeds  so  far  as  to  tell  me,  that  if  I  do  not 
do  her  justice,  I  shall  die  in  a  jail.  To  this  she  adds, 
when  her  passion  will  let  her  argue  calmly,  that  she  has 
several  play-debts  on  her  hand,  which  must  be  discharged 
very  suddenly,  and  that  she  cannot  lose  h"er  money  as 
becomes  a  woman  of  her  fashion  if  she  makes  me  any 
abatements  in  this  article.  I  hope,  sir,  you  will  take  an 
occasion  from  hence  to  give  your  opinion  upon  a  subject 
which  you  have  not  yet  touched,  and  inform  us  if  there 
are  any  precedents  for  this  usage  among  our  ancestors; 
or  whether  you  find  any  mention  of  pin-money  in  Grotius, 
Puffendorff,  or  any  other  of  the  civilians. 

^^I  am  ever  the  humblest  of  your  admirers, 
^'JosuH  Fribble,  Esq." 

As  there  is  no  man  living  who  is  a  more  professed 
advocate  of  the  fair  sex  than  myself,  so  there  is  none  that 
would  be  more  unwilling  to  invade  any  of  their  ancient 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  301 

rights  and  privileges;  but  as  the  doctrine  of  pin-money 
is  of  a  very  late  date,  unknown  to  our  great-grandmothers, 
and  not  yet  received  by  many  of  our  modern  ladies,  I  think 
it  is  for  the  interest  of  both  sexes  to  keep  it  from  spread- 
ing. 

Mr.  Fribble  may  not  perhaps  be  much  mistaken  where 
he  intimates  that  the  supplying  a  man's  wife  with  pin- 
money,  is  furnishing  her  with  arms  against  himself,  and 
in  a  manner  becoming  accessory  to  his  own  dishonor. 
We  may  indeed  generally  observe  that  in  proportion  as  a 
woman  is  more  or  less  beautiful,  and  her  husband  ad- 
vanced in  years,  she  stands  in  need  of  a  greater  or  less 
number  of  pins,  and,  upon  a  treaty  of  marriage,  rises 
and  falls  in  her  demands  accordingly.  It  must  likewise 
be  owned,  that  high  quality  in  a  mistress  does  very  much 
inflame  this  article  in  the  marriage-reckoning. 

But  where  the  age  and  circumstances  of  both  parties 
are  pretty  much  upon  a  level,  I  cannot  but  think  the  in- 
sisting upon  pin-money  is  very  extraordinary;  and  yet  we 
find  several  matches  broken  off  upon  this  very  head. 
What  would  a  foreigner,  or  one  who  is  stranger  to  this 
practise,  think  of  a  lover  that  forsakes  his  mistress 
because  he  is  not  willing  to  keep  her  in  pinsl  But  what 
would  he  think  of  the  mistress  should  he  be  informed 
that  she  asks  five  or  six  hundred  pounds  a-year  for  this 
usel  Should  a  man,  unacquainted  with  our  customs,  be 
told  the  sums  which  are  allowed  in  Great  Britain  under 
the  title  of  pin-money,  what  a  prodigious  consumption  of 
pins  would  he  think  there  was  in  this  island?  "A  pin  a 
day,''  says  our  frugal  proverb,  "is  a  groat  a  year;"  so 
that,  according  to  this  calculation,  my  friend  Fribble's 
wife  must  every  year  make  use  of  eight  millions  six  hun- 
dred and  forty  thousand  new  pins. 

I  am  not  ignorant  that  our  British  ladies  allege  they 
comprehend  under  this  general  term  several  other  con- 
veniences of  life;  I  could  therefore  wish,  for  the  honor 
of  my  country-women,  that  they  had  rather  called  it 
needle-money,  which  might  have  implied  something  of 


302  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

good  housewifery,  and  not  have  given  the  malicious  world 
occasion  to  think  that  dress  and  trifles  have  always  the 
uppermost  place  in  a  woman's  thoughts. 

I  know  several  of  my  fair  reasoners  urge,  in  defense  of 
this  practise,  that  it  is  but  a  necessary  provision  they 
make  for  themselves  in  case  their  husband  proves  a  churl 
or  a  miser;  so  that  they  consider  this  allowance  as  a  kind 
of  alimony  which  they  may  lay  their  claim  to  without 
actually  separating  from  their  husbands.  But  with  sub- 
mission, I  think  a  woman  who  will  give  up  herself  to  a 
man  in  marriage,  where  there  is  the  least  room  for  such 
an  apprehension,  and  trust  her  person  to  one  whom  she 
will  not  rely  on  for  the  conunon  necessaries  of  life,  may 
very  properly  be  accused  (in  the  phrase  of  a  homely  prov- 
erb) of  being  "penny  wise  and  pound  foolish." 

It  is  observed  of  over-cautious  generals,  that  they  never 
engage  in  a  battle  without  securing  a  retreat  in  case  the 
event  should  not  answer  their  expectations;  on  the  other 
hand,  your  greatest  conquerors  have  burnt  their  ships, 
and  broke  down  the  bridges  behind  them,  as  being  deter- 
mined either  to  succeed  or  die  in  the  engagement.  In 
the  same  manner  I  should  very  much  suspect  a  woman 
who  takes  such  precautions  for  her  retreat,  and  contrives 
methods  how  she  may  live  happily,  without  the  affection 
of  one  to  whom  she  joins  herself  for  life.  Separate  purses 
between  man  and  wife  axe,  in  my  opinion,  as  unnatural  as 
separate  beds.  A  marriage  cannot  be  happy  where  the 
pleasures,  inclinations,  and  interests  of  both  parties  are 
not  the  same.  There  is  no  greater  incitement  to  love  in 
the  mind  of  man  than  the  sense  of  a  person's  depending 
upon  him  for  her  ease  and  happiness;  as  a  woman  uses 
all  her  endeavors  to  please  the  person  whom  she  looks 
upon,  as  her  honor,  her  comfort,  and  her  support. 

For  this  reason  I  am  not  very  much  surprised  at  the 
behavior  of  a  rough  country  squire,  who,  being  not  a  little 
shocked  at  the  proceeding  of  a  young  widow  that  would 
not  recede  from  her  demands  of  pin-money,  was  so  en- 
raged at  her  mercenary  femper,  that  he  told  her  in  great 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  803 

wrath,  "As  much  as  she  thought  him  her  slave,  he  would 
show  all  the  world  he  did  not  care  a  pin  for  her."  Upon 
which  he  flew  out  of  the  room,  and  never  saw  her  more. 

Socrates,  in  Plato's  Alcihiades,  says  he  was  informed 
by  one  who  had  traveled  through  Persia,  that  as  he  had 
passed  over  a  great  tract  of  land,  and  inquired  what  the 
name  of  the  place  was,  they  told  him  it  was  the  Queen's 
Girdle:  to  which  he  adds,  that  another  wide  field,  which 
lay  by  it,  was  called  the  Queen's  Veil;  and  that  in  the 
same  manner  there  was  a  large  portion  of  ground  set  aside 
for  every  part  of  her  Majesty's  dress.  These  lands  might 
not  be  improperly  called  the  Queen  of  Persia's  pin-money. 

I  remember  my  friend  Sir  Eoger,  who,  I  dare  say,  never 
read  this  passage  in  Plato,  told  me  some  time  since,  that 
upon  his  courting  the  perverse  widow  (of  whom  I  have 
given  an  account  in  former  papers),  he  had  disposed  of  a 
hundred  acres  in  a  diamond  ring,  which  he  would  have 
presented  her  with  had  she  thought  fit  to  accept  it;  and 
that,  upon  her  wedding  day,  she  should  have  carried  on 
her  head  fifty  of  the  tallest  oaks  upon  his  estate.  He 
farther  informed  me,  that  he  would  have  given  her  a 
coal-pit  to  keep  her  in  clean  linen,  that  he  would  have 
allowed  her  the  profits  of  a  windmill  for  her  fans,  and 
have  presented  her  once  in  three  years  with  the  shearing 
of  his  sheep  for  her  under-petticoats.  To  which  the 
knight  always  adds,  that  though  he  did  not  care  for  fine 
clothes  himself,  there  should  not  have  been  a  woman  in 
the  country  better  dressed  than  my  Lady  Coverley.  Sir 
Roger,  perhaps,  may  in  this,  as  well  as  in  many  other 
of  his  devices,  appear  something  odd  and  singular;  but  if 
the  humor  of  pin-money  prevails,  I  think  it  would  be 
very  proper  for  every  gentleman  of  an  estate  to  mark  out 
so  many  acres  of  it  under  the  title  of  "The  Pins."        L. 


304  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

[Spectator  No.  317.    Tuesday,  March  4, 1712.    Addison.] 
Fruges  consmnere  nati.* — HoR. 

Augustus,  a  few  moments  before  his  death,  asked  his 
friends  who  stood  about  him,  if  they  thought  he  had  acted 
his  part  well;  and  upon  receiving  such  an  answer  as 
was  due  to  his  extraordinary  merit,  "Let  me  then,"  says 
he,  "go  off  the  stage  with  your  applause'' ;  using  the  expres- 
sion with  which  the  Eoman  actors  made  their  exit  at  the 
conclusion  of  a  dramatic  piece.  I  could  wish  that  men, 
while  they  are  in  health,  would  consider  well  the  nature 
of  the  part  they  are  engaged  in,  and  what  figure  it  will 
make  in  the  minds  of  those  they  leave  behind  them: 
Whether  it  was  worth  coming  into  the  world  for,  whether 
it  be  suitable  to  a  reasonable  being;  in  short,  whether 
it  appears  graceful  in  this  life,  or  will  turn  to  an  advan- 
tage in  the  next.  Let  the  sycophant,  or  buffoon,  the 
satirist,  or  the  good  companion,  consider  with  himself, 
when  his  body  shall  be  laid  in  the  grave,  and  his  soul 
pass  into  another  state  of  existence,  how  much  it  will 
redound  to  his  praise  to  have  it  said  of  him,  that  no  man 
in  England  eat  better,  that  he  had  an  admirable  talent 
at  turning  his  friends  into  ridicule,  that  nobody  outdid 
him  at  an  ill-natured  jest,  or  that  he  never  went  to  bed 
before  he  had  despatched  his  third  bottle.  These  are, 
however,  very  common  funeral  orations,  and  eulogiums  on 
deceased  persons  who  have  acted  among  mankind  with 
some  figure  and  reputation. 

But  if  we  look  into  the  bulk  of  our  species,  they  are 
such  as  are  not  likely  to  be  remembered  a  moment  after 
their  disappearance.  They  leave  behind  them  no  traces 
of  their  existence,  but  are  forgotten  as  though  they  had 
never  been.  They  are  neither  wanted  by  the  poor,  re- 
gretted by  the  rich,  nor  celebrated  by  the  learned.  They 
are  neither  missed  in  the  Commonwealth,  nor  lamented 
by  private  persons.     Their  actions  are  of  no  significancy 

*  Born  to  drink  and  eat. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  805 

to  mankind,  and  might  have  been  performed  by  creatures 
of  much  less  dignity,  than  those  who  are  distinguished 
by  the  faculty  of  reason.  An  eminent  French  author 
speaks  somewhere  to  the  following  purpose:  I  have  often 
seen  from  my  chamber-window  two  noble  creatures,  both 
of  them  of  an  erect  countenance,  and  endowed  with  rea- 
son. These  two  intellectual  beings  are  employed  from 
morning  to  night,  in  rubbing  two  smooth  stones  one  upon 
another;  that  is,  as  the  vulgar  phrase  it,  in  polishing 
marble. 

My  friend.  Sir  Andrew  Freeport,  as  we  were  sitting 
in  the  Club  last  night,  gave  us  an  account  of  a  sober 
citizen,  who  died  a  few  days  since.  This  honest  man 
being  of  greater  consequence  in  his  own  thoughts,  than  in 
the  eye  of  the  world,  had  for  some  years  past  kept  a  jour- 
nal of  his  life.  Sir  Andrew  showed  us  one  week  of  it. 
Since  the  occurrences  set  down  in  it  mark  out  such  a  road 
of  action  as  that  I  have  been  speaking  of,  I  shall  present 
my  reader  with  a  faithful  copy  of  it;  after  having  first 
informed  him,  that  the  deceased  person  had  in  Jiis 
youth  been  bred  to  trade,  but  finding  himself  not  so  well 
turned  for  business,  he  had  for  several  years  last  past  lived 
altogether  upon  a  moderate  annuity. 

MONDAY,  Eight  a  clock.  I  put  on  my  clothes  and 
walked  into  the  parlor. 

Nine  a  clock,  ditto.  Tied  my  knee-strings,  and  washed 
my  hands. 

Hours  Ten,  Eleven  and  Twelve.  Smoked  three  pipes 
of  Virginia.  Read  the  Supplement  and  Daily  Courant, 
Things  go  ill  in  the  North.  Mr.  Nisby's  opinion  there- 
upon. 

One  a  clock  in  the  afternoon.  Chid  Ealph  for  mislay- 
ing my  tobacco-box. 

Two  a  clock.  Sat  down  to  dinner.  Mem.  Too  many 
plums,  and  no  suet. 

From  Three  to  Four,    Took  my  afternoon's  nap. 


306  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

From  Four  to  Six.  Walked  into  the  fields.  Wind, 
S.S.E. 

From  Six  to  Ten.  At  the  Club.  Mr.  Nisby's  opinion 
about  the  peace. 

Ten  a  clock.    Went  to  bed,  slept  sound. 

TUESDAY,  BEING  HOLIDAY,  Eight  a  clocJc.  Eose 
as  usual. 

Nine  a  clock.  Washed  hands  and  face,  shaved,  put  on 
my  double  soled  shoes. 

Ten,  Eleven,  Twelve.     Took  a  walk  to  Islington. 

One.     Took  a  pot  of  Mother  Cob's  mild. 

Between  Two  and  Three.  Returned,  dined  on  a  knuckle 
of  veal  and  bacon.    Mem.    Sprouts  wanting. 

Three.    Nap  as  usual. 

From  Four  to  Six.  Coffee-house.  Read  the  News.  A 
dish  of  twist.     Grand  Vizier  strangled. 

From  Six  to  Ten.  At  the  Club.  Mr.  Nisby's  account 
of  the  great  Turk. 

Ten.    Dream  of  the  Grand  Yizier.    Broken  sleep. 

WEDNESDAY.  Eight  a  clock.  Tongue  of  my  shoe- 
buckle  broke.     Hands  but  not  face. 

Nine.  Paid  off  the  butcher's  bill.  Mem.  To  be  al- 
lowed for  the  last  leg  of  mutton. 

Ten,  Eleven.  At  the  coffee-house.  More  work  in  the 
north.  Stranger  in  a  black  wig  asked  me  how  stocks 
went. 

From  Twelve  to  One.  Walked  in  the  fields.  Wind 
to  the  south. 

From  One  to  Two.     Smoked  a  pipe  and  a  half. 

Two.    Dined  as  usual.     Stomach  good. 

Three.  Nap  broke  by  the  falling  of  a  pewter-dish. 
Mem.     Cook-maid  in  love,  and  grown  careless. 

From  Four  to  Six.  At  the  Coffee-house.  Advice  from 
Smyrna,  that  the  Grand  Vizier  was  first  of  all  strangled, 
and  afterwards  beheaded. 

Six  a  clock  in  the  evening.    Was  half  an  hour  in  the 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  807 

Club  before  any  body  else  came.    Mr.  Nisby  of  opinion 
that  the  Grand  Vizier  was  not  strangled  the  sixth  instant. 
Ten  at  night.    Went  to  bed.    Slept  without  waking  till 
nine  next  morning. 

THURSDAY,  Nine  a  clocJc.  Staid  within  till  two  a 
clock  for  Sir  Timothy.  Who  did  not  bring  me  my 
annuity  according  to  his  promise. 

Two  in  the  afternoon.  Sat  down  to  Dinner.  Loss  of 
appetite.     Small  beer  sour.    Beef  over-corned. 

Three.    Could  not  take  my  nap. 

Four  and  Five.  Gave  Ealph  a  box  on  the  ear.  Turned 
off  my  cook-maid.  Sent  a  message  to  Sir  Timothy. 
Mem.  I  did  not  go  to  the  Club  to-night.  Went  to  bed 
at  nine  a  clock. 

FKIDAT.  Passed  the  morning  in  meditation  upon 
Sir  Timothy,  who  was  with  me  a  quarter  before  twelve. 

Twelve  a  clock.  Bought  a  new  head  to  my  cane,  and 
a  tongue  to  my  buckle.  Drank  a  glass  of  purl  to  recover 
appetite. 

Two  arid  Three.    Dined,  and  slept  well. 

From  Four  to  Six.  Went  to  the  coffee-house.  Met  Mr. 
Nisby  there.  Smoked  several  pipes.  Mr.  Nisby  of  opin- 
ion that  laced  coffee  is  bad  for  the  head. 

Six  a  clocJc.    At  the  Club  as  steward.     Sat  late. 

Twelve  a  cloch.  Went  to  bed,  dreamt  that  I  drank 
small-beer  with  the  Grand  Vizier. 

SATTJEDAT.  Waked  at  eleven,  walked  in  the  fields, 
Wind  N.E. 

Twelve.     Caught  in  a  shower. 

One  in  the  afternoon.  Keturned  home,  and  dried  my- 
self. 

Two.  Mr.  Nisby  dined  with  me.  First  course  marrow- 
bones, second,  ox-cheek,  with  a  bottle  of  Brook's  and 
Hellier. 

Three  a  clock.    Overslept  myself. 


308  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Six.  Went  to  the  Club.  Like  to  have  fallen  into  a 
^tter.     Grand  Vizier  certainly  dead,  etc. 

I  question  not,  but  the  reader  will  be  surprised  to  find 
the  above-mentioned  journalist  taking  so  much  care  of 
a  life  that  was  filled  with  such  inconsiderable  actions, 
and  received  so  very  small  improvements;  and  yet,  if 
we  look  into  the  behavior  of  many  whom  we  daily  con- 
verse with,  we  shall  find  that  most  of  their  hours  are 
taken  up  in  those  three  important  articles  of  eating,  drink- 
ing, and  sleeping.  I  do  not  suppose  that  a  man  loses 
his  time,  who  is  not  engaged  in  public  affairs,  or  in  an 
illustrious  course  of  action.  On  the  contrary,  I  believe 
our  hours  may  very  often  be  more  profitably  laid  out  in 
such  transactions  as  make  no  figure  in  the  world,  than 
in  such  as  are  apt  to  draw  upon  them  the  attention  of 
mankind.  One  may  become  wiser  and  better  by  several 
methods  of  employing  one's  self  in  secrecy  and  silence, 
and  do  what  is  laudable  without  noise,  or  ostentation.  I 
would,  however,  recommend  to  every  one  of  my  readers, 
the  keeping  a  journal  of  their  lives  for  one  week,  and 
setting  down  punctually  their  whole  series  of  employments, 
during  that  space  of  time.  This  kind  of  self-examina- 
tion would  give  them  a  true  state  of  themselves,  and 
incline  them  to  consider  seriously  what  they  are  about. 
One  day  would  rectify  the  omissions  of  another,  and  make 
a  man  weigh  all  those  indifferent  actions,  which,  though 
they  are  easily  forgotten,  must  certainly  be  accounted 
for. 


[Spectator  No.  323.  Tuesday,  March  11, 1712.  Addison.] 

Mode  vir,  mode  femina.^ — Virg. 

The  Journal  with  which  I  presented  my  reader  on 
Tuesday  last,  has  brought  me  in  several  letters  with  ac- 
counts of  many  private  lives  cast  into  that  form.     I  have 

^  Sometimes  a  man,   sometimes  a  woman. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  809 

the  Eake's  Journal,  the  Sot's  Journal,  the  Whoremaster'8 
Journal,  and  among  several  others  a  very  curious  piece, 
entitled,  The  Journal  of  a  Mohock.  By  these  instances 
I  find  that  the  intention  of  my  last  Tuesday's  paper  has 
been  mistaken  by  many  of  my  readers.  I  did  not  design 
so  much  to  expose  vice  as  idleness,  and  aimed  at  those 
persons  who  pass  away  their  time  rather  in  trifles  and 
impertinence,  than  in  crimes  and  immoralities.  Of- 
fenses of  this  later  kind  are  not  to  be  dallied  with,  or 
treated  in  so  ludicrous  a  manner.  In  short,  my  journal 
only  holds  up  folly  to  the  light,  and  shows  the  disagree- 
ableness  of  such  actions  as  are  indifferent  in  themselves, 
and  biameable  only  as  they  proceed  from  creatures  en- 
dowed with  reason. 

My  following  correspondent,  who  calls  herself  Clarinda, 
is  such  a  journalist  as  I  require:  she  seems  by  her  letter 
to  be  placed  in  a  modish  state  of  indifference  between  vice 
and  virtue,  and  to  be  susceptible  of  either,  were  there 
proper  pains  taken  with  her.  Had  her  journal  been  filled 
with  gallantries,  or  such  occurrences  as  had  shown  her 
wholly  divested  of  her  natural  innocence,  notwithstanding 
it  might  have  been  more  pleasing  to  the  generality  of 
readers,  1  should  not  have  published  it;  but  as  it  is  only 
the  picture  of  a  life  filled  with  a  fashionable  kind  of 
gaiety  and  laziness,  1  shall  set  down  five  days  of  it,  as 
I  have  received  it  from  the  hand  of  my  correspondent. 

Dear  Mr.  Spectator, 

You  having  set  your  readers  an  exercise  in  one  of  your 
last  week's  papers,  I  have  performed  mine  according  to 
your  orders,  and  herewith  send  it  you  enclosed.  You 
must  know,  Mr,  Spectator,  that  I  am  a  maiden  lady  of 
a  good  fortune,  who  have  had  several  matches  offered  me 
for  these  ten  years  last  past,  and  have  at  present  warm 
applications  made  to  me  by  a  very  pretty  fellow.  As  I 
am  at  my  own  disposal,  I  come  up  to  town  every  winter, 
and  pass  my  time  after  the  manner  you  will  find  in  the 


810  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

following  journal,  which  I  began  to  write  upon  the  very 
day  after  your  Spectator  upon  that  subject. 

Tuesday  night.  Could  not  go  to  sleep  tiU  one  in  the 
morning  for  thinking  of  my  journal. 

Wednesday.  From  Eight  till  Ten.  Drank  two  dishes 
of  chocolate  in  bed,  and  fell  asleep  after  them. 

From  Ten  to  Eleven.  Eat  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter, 
drank  a  dish  of  bohea,  read  the  Spectator. 

From  Eleven  to  One.  At  my  toilette,  tried  a  new  head. 
Gave  orders  for  Veny  to  be  combed  and  washed.  Mem. 
I  look  best  in  blue. 

From  One  till  half  an  hour  after  Two.  Drove  to  the 
Change.    Cheapened  a  couple  of  fans. 

Till  Four.  At  dinner.  Mem.  Mr.  Froth  passed  by  in 
his  new  liveries. 

From  Four  to  Six.  Dressed,  paid  a  visit  to  old  Lady 
Blithe  and  her  sister,  having  before  heard  they  were  gone 
out  of  town  that  day. 

From  Six  to  Eleven.  At  basset.  Mem.  Never  set 
again  upon  the  ace  of  diamonds. 

Thursday.  From  Eleven  at  night  to  Eight  in  the 
morning.    Dreamed  that  I  punted  to  Mr.  Froth. 

From  Eight  to  Ten.  Chocolate.  Kead  two  acts  in 
Aurenzehe  a-bed. 

From  Ten  to  Eleven.  Tea-table.  Sent  to  borrow  Lady 
Faddle's  Cupid  for  Veny.  Kead  the  play-bills.  Received 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Froth.  Mem.  Locked  it  up  in  my 
strong  box. 

Rest  of  the  morning.  Fontange,  the  tire-woman,  her 
account  of  my  Lady  Blithe's  wash.  Broke  a  tooth  in  my 
little  tortoise-shell  comb.  Sent  Frank  to  know  how  my 
Lady  Hectic  rested  after  her  monkey's  leaping  out  at  win- 
dow. Looked  pale.  Fontange  tells  me  my  glass  is  not 
true.    Dressed  by  Three. 

From  Three  to  Four.    Dinner  cold  before  I  sat  down. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  811 

From  Four  to  Eleven.  Saw  company.  Mr.  Frotli's 
opinion  of  Milton.  His  account  of  the  Mohocks.  His 
fancy  for  a  pin-cushion.  Picture  in  the  lid  of  his  snuff- 
box. Old  Lady  Faddle  promises  me  her  woman  to  cut 
my  hair.    Lost  five  guineas  at  crimp. 

Twelve  a  clock  at  night    Went  to  bed. 

FwDAY.  Eight  in  the  morning.  A-bed.  Eead  over  all 
Mr.  Froth's  letters.     Cupid  and  Veny. 

Ten  a  clock.     Stayed  within  all  day,  not  at  home. 

From  Ten  to  Twelve.  In  conference  with  my  mantua- 
maker.  Sorted  a  suit  of  ribands.  Broke  my  blue  china 
cup. 

From  Twelve  to  One.  Shut  myself  up  in  my  chamber, 
practised  Lady  Betty  Modely's  skuttle. 

One  in  the  afternoon.  Called  for  my  flowered  hand- 
kerchief. Worked  half  a  violet  leaf  in  it.  Eyes  ached 
and  head  out  of  order.  Threw  by  my  work,  and  read  over 
the  remaining  part  of  Aurenzehe. 

From  Three  to  Four.    Dined. 

From  Four  to  Twelve.  Changed  my  mind,  dressed, 
went  abroad,  and  played  at  crimp  till  midnight.  Found 
Mrs.  Spitely  at  home.  Conversation:  Mrs.  Brilliant's 
necklace  false  stones.  Old  Lady  Loveday  going  to  be  mar- 
ried to  a  young  fellow  that  is  not  worth  a  groat.  Miss 
Prue  gone  into  the  country.  Tom  Townley  has  red  hair. 
Mem.  Mrs.  Spitely  whispered  in  my  ear  that  she  had 
something  to  tell  me  about  Mr.  Froth,  I  am  sure  it  is  not 
true. 

Between  Twelve  and  One.  Dreamed  that  Mr.  Froth  lay 
at  my  feet,  and  called  me  Indamora. 

Saturday.  Kose  at  eight  a  clock  in  the  morning.  Sat 
down  to  my  toilette. 

From  Eight  to  Nine.  Shifted  a  patch  for  half  an  hour 
before  I  could  determine  it.  Fixed  it  above  my  left  eye- 
brow. 

From  Nine  to  Twelve.    Drank  my  tea,  and  dressed. 


312  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

From  Twelve  to  Two.  At  chapel.  A  great  deal  of 
good  company.  Mem.  The  third  air  in  the  new  opera. 
Lady  Blithe  dressed  frightfully. 

From  Three  to  Four.  Dined.  Mrs.  Kitty  called  upon 
me  to  go  to  the  opera  before  I  was  risen  from  table. 

From  dinner  to  Six.  Drank  tea.  Turned  off  a  foot- 
man for  being  rude  to  Veny. 

Six  a  clocJc.  Went  to  the  opera.  I  did  not  see  Mr. 
Froth  till  the  beginning  of  the  second  act.  Mr.  Froth 
talked  to  a  gentleman  in  a  black  wig.  Bowed  to  a  lady 
in  the  front  box.  Mr,  Froth  and  his  friend  clapped  Nico- 
lini  in  the  third  act.  Mr.  Froth  cried  out  Ancora.  Mr. 
Froth  led  me  to  my  chair.     I  think  he  squeezed  my  hand. 

Eleven  at  night.  Went  to  bed.  Melancholy  dreams. 
Methought  Nicolini  said  he  was  Mr.  Froth, 

Sunday.    Indisposed. 

Monday.  Eight  a  cloch  [Waked]  by  Miss  Kitty. 
Aurenzele  lay  upon  the  chair  by  me.  Kitty  repeated 
without  book  the  eight  best  lines  in  the  play.  Went  in 
our  mobs  to  the  dumb  man,  according  to  appointment. 
Told  me  that  my  lover's  name  began  with  a  G.  Mem. 
The  conjurer  was  within  a  letter  of  Mr.  Froth's  name,  etc. 

Upon  looking  back  into  this  my  journal,  I  find  that 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  I  pass  my  time  well  or 
ill;  and  indeed  never  thought  of  considering  how  I  did  it, 
before  I  perused  your  speculation  upon  that  subject.  I 
scarce  find  a  single  action  in  these  five  days  that  1  can 
thoroughly  approve  of,  except  the  working  upon  the  violet 
leaf,  which  I  am  resolved  to  finish  the  first  day  I  am  at 
leisure.  As  for  Mr.  Froth  and  Veny,  I  did  not  think  they 
took  up  so  much  of  my  time  and  thoughts,  as  I  find  they 
do  upon  my  journal.  The  latter  of  them  I  will  turn  off 
if  you  insist  upon  it;  and  if  Mr.  Froth  does  not  bring 
matters  to  a  conclusion  very  suddenly,  I  will  not  let  my 
life  run  away  in  a  dream. 

Your  humble  servant, 

Olarenda. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  313 

To  resume  one  of  the  morals  of  my  first  paper,  and  to 
confirm  Clarinda  in  her  good  inclinations,  I  would  have 
her  consider  what  a  pretty  figure  she  would  make  among 
posterity,  were  the  history  of  her  whole  life  published  like 
these  five  days  of  it.  I  shall  conclude  my  paper  with  an 
epitaph  written  by  an  uncertain  author  on  Sir  Philip 
Sidney's  sister,  a  lady  who  seems  to  have  been  of  a  tem- 
per very  much  different  from  that  of  Clarinda.  The  last 
thought  of  it  is  so  very  noble,  that  I  dare  say  my  reader 
will  pardon  the  quotation. 

On  the  Countess  Dowager  of  Pembroke 
Underneath  this  marhle  hearse 
Lies  the  subject  of   all  verse, 
Sidney's  sister,  Pembroke's  mother; 
Death,  ere  thou  hast  killed  another, 
Fair  and  learned,  and  good  as  she, 
Time  shall  throw  a  dart  at  thee. 


[Specjtator  No.  329.     Tuesday,  March  18,  1711-12. 
Addison.] 

Ire  tamen  restat,  Numa  quo  devenit  et  Ancus.* 

— HORAC?E, 

My  friend  Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley  told  me  t'other  night 
that  he  had  been  reading  my  paper  upon  Westminster 
Abbey,  in  which,  says  he,  there  are  a  great  many  in- 
genious fancies.  He  told  me,  at  the  same  time,  that  he 
observed  I  had  promised  another  paper  upon  the  tombs, 
and  that  he  should  be  glad  to  go  and  see  them  with  me, 
not  having  visited  them  since  he  had  read  history.  I 
could  not  at  first  imagine  how  this  came  into  the  knight's 
head,  till  I  recollected  that  he  had  been  very  busy  all  last 
summer  upon  Baker's  Chronicle,  which  he  has  quoted 
several  times  in  his  disputes  with  Sir  Andrew  Freeport, 

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


314  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

since  his  last  coming  to  town.  Accordingly,  I  promised 
to  call  upon  him  the  next  morning,  that  we  might  go  to- 
gether to  the  Abbey. 

I  found  the  knight  under  his  butler's  hands,  who  al- 
ways shaves  him.  He  was  no  sooner  dressed  than  he 
called  for  a  glass  of  the  Widow  Trueby's  water,  which  he 
told  me  he  always  drank  before  he  went  abroad.  He 
recommended  me  to  a  dram  of  it  at  the  same  time  with 
so  much  heartiness  that  I  could  not  forbear  drinking  it. 
As  soon  as  I  had  got  it  down,  I  found  it  very  unpalatable; 
upon  which  the  knight,  observing  that  I  had  made  sev- 
eral wry  faces,  told  me  that  he  knew  I  should  not  like  it 
at  first,  but  that  it  was  the  best  thing  in  the  world  against 
the  stone  or  gravel. 

I  could  have  wished,  indeed,  that  he  had  acquainted  me 
with  the  virtues  of  it  sooner ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  com- 
plain, and  I  knew  what  he  had  done  was  out  of  good- 
will. Sir  Eoger  told  me,  further,  that  he  looked  upon  it 
to  be  very  good  for  a  man,  whilst  he  stayed  in  town,  to 
keep  off  infection;  and  that  he  got  together  a  quantity  of 
it  upon  the  first  news  of  the  sickness  being  at  Dantzic. 
When,  of  a  sudden,  turning  short  to  one  of  his  servants, 
who  stood  behind  him,  he  bid  him  call  a  hackney-coach, 
and  take  care  it  was  an  elderly  man  that  drove  it. 

He  then  resumed  his  discourse  upon  Mrs.  Trueby^s 
water,  telling  me  that  the  Widow  Trueby  was  one  who 
did  more  good  than  all  the  doctors  and  apothecaries  in  the 
country;  that  she  distilled  every  poppy  that  grew  within 
five  miles  of  her;  that  she  distributed  her  water  gratis 
among  all  sorts  of  people:  to  which  the  knight  added  that 
she  had  a  very  great  jointure,  and  that  the  whole  country 
would  fain  have  it  a  match  between  him  and  her;  "And 
truly,"  said  Sir  Eoger,  "if  I  had  not  been  engaged,  per- 
haps I  could  not  have  done  better." 

His  discourse  was  broken  off  by  his  man's  telling  him 
he  had  called  a  coach.  Upon  our  going  to  it,  after  hav- 
ing cast  his  eye  upon  the  wheels,  he  asked  the  coachman 
if  his  axle-tree  was  good;  upon  the  fellow's  telling  him 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  315 

he  would  warrant  it,  the  knight  turned  to  me,  told  me  he 
looked  like  an  honest  man,  and  went  in  without  further 
ceremony. 

We  had  not  gone  far  when  Sir  Eoger,  popping  out  his 
head,  called  the  coachman  down  from  his  box  and,  upon 
his  presenting  himself  at  the  window,  asked  him  if  he 
smoked;  as  I  was  considering  what  this  would  end  in,  he 
bid  him  stop  by  the  way  at  any  good  tobacconist's,  and 
take  in  a  roll  of  their  best  Virginia.  Nothing  material 
happened  in  the  remaining  part  of  our  journey  till  we 
were  set  down  at  the  west  end  of  the  Abbey. 

As  we  went  up  the  body  of  the  church,  the  knight 
pointed  at  the  trophies  upon  one  of  the  new  monuments, 
and  cried  out,  "A  brave  man,  I  warrant  him!"  Passing 
afterward  by  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,  he  flung  his  hand  that 
way,  and  cried,  "Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel!  a  very  gallant 
man!"  As  we  stood  before  Busby's  tomb,  the  knight  ut- 
tered himself  again  after  the  same  manner: — ^*^Dr.  Busby 
— a  great  man !  he  whipped  my  grandfather — a  very  great 
man!  I  should  have  gone  to  him  myself  if  I  had  not 
been  a  blockhead — a  very  gj-eat  man !" 

We  were  immediately  conducted  into  the  little  chapel 
on  the  right  hand.  Sir  Eoger,  planting  himself  at  our 
historian's  elbow,  was  very  attentive  to  everything  he  said, 
particularly  to  the  account  he  gave  us  of  the  lord  who 
had  cut  off  the  King  of  Morocco's  head.  Among  several 
other  figures,  he  was  very  well  pleased  to  see  the  states- 
man Cecil  upon  his  knees;  and,  concluding  them  all  to 
be  great  men,  was  conducted  to  the  figure  which  repre- 
sents that  martyr  to  good  housewifery  who  died  by  the 
prick  of  a  needle.  Upon  our  interpreter's  telling  us  that 
she  was  a  maid  of  honor  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  knight 
was  very  inquisitive  into  her  name  and  family,  and,  after 
having  regarded  her  finger  for  some  time,  "I  wonder," 
says  he,  ^^that  Sir  Kichard  Baker  has  said  nothing  of  her 
in  his  Chronicle." 

We  were  then  conveyed  to  the  two  coronation  chairs, 
where  my  old  friend,  after  having  heard  that  the  stone 


316  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

underneath  the  most  ancient  of  them,  which  was  brought 
from  Scotland,  was  called  Jacob's  Pillar,  sat  himself 
down  in  the  chair,  and,  looking  like  the  figure  of  an  old 
Gothic  king,  asked  our  interpreter  what  authority  they 
had  to  say  that  Jacob  had  ever  been  in  Scotland.  The 
fellow,  instead  of  returning  him  an  answer,  told  him  that 
he  hoped  his  honor  would  pay  his  forfeit.  I  could  ob- 
serve Sir  Roger  a  little  ruffled  upon  being  thus  trepanned ; 
but,  our  guide  not  insisting  upon  his  demand,  the  knight 
soon  recovered  his  good  humor,  and  whispered  in  my  ear 
that  if  Will  Wimble  were  with  us,  and  saw  those  two 
chairs,  it  would  go  hard  but  he  would  get  a  tobacco* 
stopper  out  of  one  or  t'other  of  them. 

Sir  Roger,  in  the  next  place,  laid  his  hand  upon  Ed- 
ward the  Third's  sword,  and,  leaning  upon  the  pommel  of 
it,  gave  us  the  whole  history  of  the  Black  Prince;  con- 
cluding that,  in  Sir  Richard  Baker's  opinion,  Edward 
the  Third  was  one  of  the  greatest  princes  that  ever  sat 
upon  the  English  throne. 

We  were  then  shown  Edward  the  Confessor's  tomb, 
upon  which  Sir  Roger  acquainted  us  that  he  was  the 
first  who  touched  for  the  evil;  and  afterward  Henry  the 
Fourth's,  upon  which  he  shook  his  head  and  told  us  there 
was  fine  reading  in  the  casualties  in  that  reign. 

Our  conductor  then  pointed  to  that  monument  where 
there  is  the  figure  of  one  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  sev- 
eral years  since,  ^^Some  Whig,  I'll  warrant  you,"  says 
Sir  Roger;  "you  ought  to  lock  up  your  kings  better;  they 
will  carry  off  the  body  too,  if  you  don't  take  care." 

The  glorious  names  of  Henry  the  Fifth  and  Queen 
Elizabeth  gave  the  knight  great  opportunities  of  shin- 
ing and  of  doing  justice  to  Sir  Richard  Baker,  who,  as 
our  knight  observed  with  some  surprise,  had  a  great  many 
kings  in  him  whose  monuments  he  had  not  seen  in  the 
Abbey. 

For  my  own  part,  I  could  not  but  be  pleased  to  see 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  317 

the  knight  show  such  an  honest  passion  for  the  glory  of 
his  country  and  such  a  respectful  gratitude  to  the  mem- 
ory of  its  princes. 

I  must  not  omit  that  the  benevolence  of  my  good  old 
friend,  which  flows  out  towards  every  one  he  converses 
with,  made  him  very  kind  to  our  interpreter,  whom  he 
looked  upon  as  an  extraordinary  man;  for  which  reason 
he  shook  him  by  the  hand  at  parting,  telling  him  that  he 
should  be  very  glad  to  see  him  at  his  lodgings  in  Nor- 
folk Buildings,  and  talk  over  these  matters  with  him  more 
at  leisure.  L. 


[Spectator  No.  335.     Tuesday,  March  25,  1712. 
Addison.] 

Respicere  exemplar  vitae  morumque  jubebo 
Doctum  imitatorem,  et  veras  hinc  ducere  voces.* 

— Horace. 

My  friend  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  when  we  last  met 
together  at  the  club,  told  me  that  he  had  a  great  mind  to 
see  the  new  tragedy  with  me,  assuring  me,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  had  not  been  at  a  play  these  twenty  years. 
^^The  last  I  saw,"  said  Sir  Eoger,  "was  The  Committee, 
which  I  should  not  have  gone  to,  neither,  had  I  not  been 
told  beforehand  that  it  was  a  good  Church  of  England 
comedy."  He  then  proceeded  to  inquire  of  me  who  this 
Distressed  Mother  was,  and,  upon  hearing  that  she  was 
Hector's  widow,  he  told  me  that  her  husband  was  a  brave 
man,  and  that  when  he  was  a  school-boy  he  had  read  his 
life  at  the  end  of  the  dictionary.  My  friend  asked  me, 
in  the  next  place,  if  there  would  not  be  some  danger  in 
coming  home  late,  in  case  the  Mohocks  should  be  abroad. 
"I  assure  you,"  says  he,  "I  thought  I  had  fallen  into 
their  hands  last  night,  for  I  observed  two  or  three  lusty 

*  "Keep  Nature's  great  original  in  view, 

And  thence  the  living  images  pursue." — ^Francis. 


318  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

black  men  that  followed  me  half  way  up  Fleet  Street,  and 
mended  their  pace  behind  me  in  proportion  as  I  put  on 
to  get  away  from  them.  You  must  know,"  continued  the 
knight,  with  a  smile,  ^T  fancied  they  had  a  mind  to  hunt 
me,  for  I  remember  an  honest  gentleman  in  my  neigh- 
borhood who  was  served  such  a  trick  in  King  Charles  the 
Second's  time;  for  which  reason  he  has  not  ventured 
himself  in  town  ever  since.  I  might  have  shown  them 
very  good  sport  had  this  been  their  design;  for,  as  I  am 
an  old  fox-hunter,  I  should  have  turned  and  dodged,  and 
have  played  them  a  thousand  tricks  they  had  never  seen 
in  their  lives  before."  Sir  Eoger  added  that  if  these  gen- 
tlemen had  any  such  intention  they  did  not  succeed  very 
well  in  it;  "for  I  threw  them  out,"  says  he,  "at  the  end 
of  Norfolk  Street,  where  I  doubled  the  comer  and  got 
shelter  in  my  lodgings  before  they  could  imagine  what 
had  become  of  me.  However,"  says  the  knight,  "if  Cap- 
tain Sentry  will  make  one  with  us  to-morrow  night,  and 
if  you  will  both  of  you  call  upon  me  about  four  o'clock, 
that  we  may  be  at  the  house  before  it  is  full,  I  will  have 
my  own  coach  in  readiness  to  attend  you,  for  John  tells 
me  he  has  got  the  fore  wheels  mended." 

The  captain,  who  did  not  fail  to  meet  me  there  at  the 
appointed  hour,  bid  Sir  Eoger  fear  nothing,  fo.r  that  he 
had  put  on  the  same  sword  which  he  made  use  of  at  the 
battle  of  Steenkirk.  Sir  Roger's  servants,  and  among  the 
rest  my  old  friend  the  butler,  had,  I  found,  provided  them- 
selves with  good  oaken  plants  to  attend  their  master  upon 
this  occasion.  When  he  had  placed  him  in  his  coach, 
with  myself  at  his  left  hand,  the  captain  before  him,  and 
his  butler  at  the  head  of  his  footmen  in  the  rear,  we  con- 
voyed him  in  safety  to  the  playhouse,  where,  after  hav- 
ing marched  up  the  entry  in  good  order,  the  captain  and 
I  went  in  with  him,  and  seated  him  betwixt  us  in  the 
pit.  As  soon  as  the  house  was  full,  and  the  candles 
lighted,  my  old  friend  stood  up  and  looked  about  him 
with  that  pleasure  which  a  mind  seasoned  with  human- 
ity naturally  feels  in  itself  at  the  sight  of  a  multitude 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  819 

of  people  who  seem  pleased  with  one  another  and  par- 
take of  the  same  common  entertainment.  I  could  not 
but  fancy  to  myself,  as  the  old  man  stood  up  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  pit,  that  he  made  a  very  proper  center  to  a 
tragic  audience.  Upon  the  entering  of  Pyrrhus,  the 
knight  told  me  that  he  did  not  believe  the  King  of  France 
himself  had  a  better  strut.  I  was,  indeed,  very  attentive 
to  my  old  friend's  remarks,  because  I  looked  upon  them 
as  a  piece  of  natural  criticism;  and  was  well  pleased  to 
hear  him,  at  the  conclusion  of  almost  every  scene,  telling 
me  that  he  could  not  imagine  how  the  play  would  end. 
One  while  he  appeared  much  concerned  for  Andromache, 
and  a  little  while  after  as  much  for  Hermione;  and  was 
extremely  puzzled  to  think  what  would  become  of  Pyrrhus. 

When  Sir  Eoger  saw  Andromache's  obstinate  refusal  to 
her  lover's  importunities,  he  whispered  me  in  the  ear 
that  he  was  sure  she  would  never  have  him;  to  which 
he  added,  with  a  more  than  ordinary  vehemence,  *^ou 
can't  imagine,  sir,  what  'tis  to  have  to  do  with  a  widow.'* 
Upon  Pyrrhus  his  threatening  afterward  to  leave  her,  the 
knight  shook  his  head,  and  muttered  to  himself,  "Aye,  do 
if  you  can."  This  part  dwelt  so  much  upon  my  friend's 
imagination  that  at  the  close  of  the  third  act,  as  I  was 
thinking  of  something  else,  he  whispered  in  my  ear, 
"These  widows,  sir,  are  the  most  perverse  creatures  in 
the  world.  But  pray,"  says  he,  "you  that  are  a  critic,  is 
this  play  according  to  your  dramatic  rules,  as  you  call 
them?  Should  your  people  in  tragedy  always  talk  to  be 
understood?  Why,  there  is  not  a  single  sentence  in  this 
play  that  I  do  not  know  the  meaning  of." 

The  fourth  act  very  luckily  begun  before  I  had  time  to 
give  the  old  gentleman  an  answer.  "Well,"  says  the 
knight,  sitting  down  with  great  satisfaction,  "I  suppose 
we  are  now  to  see  Hector's  ghost."  He  then  renewed 
his  attention,  and,  from  time  to  time,  fell  a-praising  the 
widow.  He  made,  indeed,  a  little  mistake  as  to  one  of  her 
pages,  whom  at  his  first  entering  he  took  for  Astyanax; 
but  he  quickly  eet  himself  right  in  that  particular,  though. 


320  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

at  the  same  time,  he  owned  he  should  have  been  very 
glad  to  have  seen  the  little  boy,  ^'who/'  says  he,  "must 
needs  be  a  very  fine  child  by  the  account  that  is  given  of 
him.'' 

Upon  Hermione's  going  off  with  a  menace  to  Pyrrhus, 
the  audience  gave  a  loud  clap,  to  which  Sir  Eoger  added, 
^^On  my  word,  a  notable  young  baggage!'' 

As  there  was  a  very  remarkable  silence  and  stillness 
in  the  audience  during  the  whole  action,  it  was  natural 
for  them  to  take  the  opportunity  of  these  intervals  be- 
tween the  acts  to  express  their  opinion  of  the  players  and 
of  their  respective  parts.  Sir  Eoger,  hearing  a  cluster  of 
them  praise  Orestes,  struck  in  with  them,  and  told  them 
that  he  thought  his  friend  Pylades  was  a  very  sensible 
man;  as  they  were  afterward  applauding  Pyrrhus,  Sir 
Eoger  put  in  a  second  time:  '^And  let  me  tell  you,"  says 
he,  "though  he  speaks  but  little,  I  like  the  old  fellow  in 
whiskers  as  well  as  any  of  them."  Captain  Sentry,  see- 
ing two  or  three  wags,  who  sat  near  us,  lean  with  an  at- 
tentive ear  toward  Sir  Eoger,  and  fearing  lest  they  should 
smoke  the  knight,  plucked  him  by  the  elbow,  and  whis- 
pered something  in  his  ear  that  lasted  till  the  opening  of 
the  fifth  act.  The  knight  was  wonderfully  attentive  to 
the  account  which  Orestes  gives  of  Pyrrhus  his  death, 
and,  at  the  conclusion  of  it,  told  me  it  was  such  a  bloody 
piece  of  work  that  he  was  glad  it  was  not  done  upon  the 
stage.  Seeing  afterward  Orestes  in  his  raving  fit,  he 
grew  more  than  ordinary  serious,  and  took  occasion  to 
moralize  (in  his  way)  upon  an  evil  conscience,  adding 
that  Orestes  in  his  madness  looked  as  if  he  saw  some- 
thing. 

As  we  were  the  first  that  came  into  the  house,  so  we 
were  the  last  that  went  out  of  it;  being  resolved  to  have 
a  clear  passage  for  our  old  friend,  whom  we  did  not  care 
to  venture  among  the  jostling  of  the  crowd.  Sir  Eoger 
went  out  fully  satisfied  with  his  entertainment,  and  we 
guarded  him  to  his  lodgings  in  the  same  manner  that  we 
brought  him  to  the  playhouse;  being  highly  pleased,  for 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  321 

my  own  part,  not  only  with  the  performance  of  the  ex- 
cellent piece  which  had  been  presented  but  with  the  sat- 
isfaction which  it  had  given  to  the  old  man.  L. 


[Spectator  No.  383.    Tuesday,  May  20,  1712.    Addison.] 
Criminibus  debent  hortos .* 

— JirVENAL. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  my  chamber  and  thinking  on  a  sub- 
ject for  my  next  Spectator,  I  heard  two  or  three  irregular 
bounces  at  my  landlady's  door,  and  upon  the  opening  of 
it,  a  loud,  cheerful  voice  inquiring  whether  the  philoso- 
pher was  at  home.  The  child  who  went  to  the  door  an- 
swered very  innocently  that  he  did  not  lodge  there.  \  I 
immediately  recollected  that  it  was  my  good  friend  Sir 
Roger's  voice,  and  that  I  had  promised  to  go  with  him 
on  the  water  to  Spring  Garden,  in  case  it  proved  a  good 
evening.  J  The  knight  put  me  in  mind  of  my  promise 
from  the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  but  told  me  that  if  I 
was  speculating  he  would  stay  below  till  I  had  done. 
Upon  my  coming  down,  I  found  all  the  children  of  the 
family  got  about  my  old  friend,  and  my  landlady  herself, 
who  is  a  notable  prating  gossip,  engaged  in  a  conference 
with  him,  being  mightily  pleased  with  his  stroking  her 
little  boy  upon  the  head,  and  bidding  him  be  a  good 
child  and  mind  his  book. 

We  were  no  sooner  come  to  the  Temple  Stairs  but  we 
were  surrounded  with  a  crowd  of  watermen,  offering  us 
their  respective  services.  Sir  Roger,  after  having  looked 
about  him  very  attentively,  spied  one  with  a  wooden  leg, 
and  immediately  gave  him  orders  to  get  his  boat  ready. 
As  we  were  walking  toward  it,  "You  must  know,"  says 
Sir  Roger,  "I  never  make  use  of  anybody  to  row  me 
that  has  not  either  lost  a  leg  or  an  arm.  I  would  rather 
bate  him  a  few  strokes  of  his  oar  than  not  employ  an 

*  "A   beauteous   garden,   but   by   vice   maintained." 


323  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

honest  man  that  had  been  wounded  in  the  Queen's  service. 
If  I  was  a  lord  or  a  bishop,  and  kept  a  barge,  I  would 
not  put  a  fellow  in  my  livery  that  had  not  a  wooden  leg." 

My  old  friend,  after  having  seated  himseK,  and  trimmed 
the  boat  with  his  coachman,  who,  being  a  very  sober  man, 
always  serves  for  ballast  on  these  occasions,  we  made  the 
beet  of  our  way  for  Fox-hall.  Sir  Roger  obliged  the 
waterman  to  give  us  the  history  of  his  right  leg,  and, 
hearing  that  he  had  left  it  at  La  Hogue,  with  many  par- 
ticulars which  passed  in  that  glorious  action,  the  knight 
in  the  triimaph  of  his  heart,  made  several  reflections  on 
the  greatness  of  the  British  nation;  as,  that  one  English- 
men could  beat  three  Frenchmen;  that  we  could  never  be 
in  danger  of  popery  so  long  as  we  took  care  of  our  fleet; 
that  the  Thames  was  the  noblest  river  in  Europe;  that 
London  Bridge  was  a  greater  piece  of  work  than  any  of 
the  seven  wonders  of  the  world;  with  many  other  hon- 
est prejudices  which  naturally  cleave  to  the  heart  of  a 
true  Englishman. 

After  some  short  pause,  the  old  knight,  turning  about 
his  head  twice  or  thrice,  to  take  a  survey  of  this  great 
metropolis,  bid  me  observe  how  thick  the  city  was  set 
with  churches,  and  that  there  was  scarcely  a  single  steeple 
on  this  side  Temple  Bar.  *^A  most  heathenish  sight!" 
says  Sir  Eoger;  "there  is  no  religion  at  this  end  of  the 
town.  The  fifty  new  churches  will  very  much  mend  the 
prospect;  but  church  work  is  slow,  church  work  is  slowl" 

I  do  not  remember  I  have  anywhere  mentioned,  in  Sir 
Roger's  character,  his  custom  of  saluting  everybody  that 
passes  by  him  with  a  good-morrow  or  a  good-night.  This 
the  old  man  does  out  of  the  overflowings  of  his  humanity, 
though  at  the  same  time  it  renders  him  so  popular  among 
all  his  country  neighbors  that  it  is  thought  to  have  gone 
a  good  way  in  making  him  once  or  twice  knight  of  the 
shire. 

He  cannot  forbear  this  exercise  of  benevolence  even  in 
town,  when  he  meets  with  any  one  in  his  morning  or  eve- 
ning walk.    It  broke  from  him  to  several  boats  that  passed 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  323 

by  us  upon  the  water;  but  to  the  knight's  great  surprise, 
as  he  gave  the  good-night  to  two  or  three  young  fellows 
a  little  before  our  landing,  one  of  them,  instead  of  return- 
ing the  civility,  asked  us  what  queer  old  put  we  had  in 
the  boat,  with  a  great  deal  of  the  like  Thames  ribaldry. 
Sir  Roger  seemed  a  little  shocked  at  first,  but  at  length, 
assuming  a  face  of  magistracy,  told  us  that  if  he  were  a 
Middlesex  justice  he  would  make  such  vagrants  know 
that  her  Majesty's  subjects  were  no  more  to  be  abused  by 
water  than  by  land. 

We  now  arrived  at  Spring  Garden,  which  is  exquisitely 
pleasant  at  this  time  of  year.  When  I  considered  the 
fragrancy  6i  the  walks  and  bowers,  with  the  choirs  of 
birds  that  sung  upon  the  trees,  and  the  loose  tribe  of  peo- 
ple that  walked  under  their  shades,  I  could  not  but  look 
upon  the  place  as  a  kind  of  Mahonfetan  paradise.  Sir 
Eoger  told  me  it  put  him  in  mind  of  a  little  coppice  by 
his  house  in  the  country,  which  his  chaplain  used  to  call 
an  aviary  of  nightingales,  '^ou  must  understand,''  says 
the  knight,  "there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  pleases 
a  man  in  love  so  much  as  your  nightingale.  Ah,  Mr. 
Spectator !  the  many  moonlight  nights  that  I  have  walked 
by  myself  and  thought  on  the  widow  by  the  music  of  the 
nightingales!"  He  here  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and  was 
falling  into  a  fit  of  musing,  when  a  mask,  who  came  be- 
hind him,  gave  him  a  gentle  tap  upon  the  shoulder,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  drink  a  bottle  of  mead  with  her. 
But  the  knight,  being  startled  at  so  unexpected  a  fa- 
miliarity, and  displeased  to  be  interrupted  in  his  thoughts 
of  the  widow,  told  her  she  was  a  wanton  baggage,  and 
bid  her  go  about  her  business. 

We  concluded  our  walk  with  a  glass  of  Burton  ale  and 
a  slice  of  hung  beef.  When  we  had  done  eating,  our- 
selves, the  knight  called  a  waiter  to  him  and  bid  him  carry 
the  remainder  to  the  waterman  that  had  but  one  leg.  I 
perceived  the  fellow  stared  upon  him  at  the  oddness  of 
the  message,  and  was  going  to  be  saucy,  upon  which  I 


324  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

ratified  the  knight's  commands  with  a  peremptory  look. 
As  we  were  going  out  of  the  garden,  my  old  friend 
thinking  himself  obliged,  as  a  member  of  the  quorum,  to 
animadvert  upon  the  morals  of  the  place,  told  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  who  sat  at  the  bar,  that  he  should  be  a  bet- 
ter customer  to  her  garden  if  there  were  more  nightin- 
gales and  fewer  masks.  I. 


[Spectator  No.  617.     Thursday,  October  23,  1712. 
Addison.] 

Heu  pietas!  heu  prisca  fides! .* 

-— VntGiL. 

We  last  night  received  a  piece  of  ill  news  at  our  club 
which  very  sensibly  afflicted  every  one  of  us.  I  question 
not  but  my  readers  themselves  will  be  troubled  at  the 
hearing  of  it.  To  keep  them  no  longer  in  suspense.  Sir 
Koger  de  Coverley  is  dead.  He  departed  this  life  at  his 
house  in  the  country,  after  a  few  weeks'  sickness.  Sir 
Andrew  Freeport  has  a  letter  from  one  of  his  correspond- 
ents in  those  parts,  that  informs  him  the  old  man  caught 
a  cold  at  the  county-sessions,  as  he  was  very  warmly  pro- 
moting an  address  of  his  own  penning,  in  which  he  suc- 
ceeded according  to  his  wishes.  But  this  particular  comes 
from  a  Whig  justice  of  peace,  who  was  always  Sir  Soger's 
enemy  and  antagonist.  I  have  letters  both  from  the  chap- 
lain and  Captain  Sentry  which  mention  nothing  of  it,  but 
are  filled  with  many  particulars  to  the  honor  of  the  good 
old  man.  I  have  likewise  a  letter  from  the  butler,  who 
took  so  much  care  of  me  last  summer  when  I  was  at  the 
knight's  house.  As  my  friend  the  butler  mentions,  in  the 
simplicity  of  his  heart,  several  circumstances  the  others 
have  passed  over  in  silence,  I  shaU  give  my  reader  a  copy 
of  his  letter  without  any  alteration  or  diminution. 

» **Alas  for  the  charity !  alas  for  the  old-time  faith,*' 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  325 

"Honored  Sir, 

"Knowing  that  you  was  my  old  Master's  good  Friend,  I 
could  not  forbear  sending  you  the  melancholy  News  of  his 
Death,  which  has  afflicted  the  whole  Country,  as  well  as 
his  poor  Servants,  who  loved  him,  I  may  say,  better  than 
we  did  our  Lives.  I  am  afraid  he  caught  his  Death  the 
last  County  Sessions,  where  he  would  go  to  see  Justice 
done  to  a  poor  Widow  Woman  and  her  Fatherless  Chil- 
dren, that  had  been  wronged  by  a  neighboring  Gentle- 
man; 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  Koast-Beef 
Stomach,  not  being  able  to  touch  a  Sirloin,  which  was 
served  vp  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  Re- 
covery, upon  a  kind  Message  that  was  sent  him  from  the 
Widow  Lady  whom  he  had  made  love  to  the  Forty  last 
Tears  of  his  Life;  but  this  only  proved  a  Lightening  be- 
fore 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,  be- 
queathed, 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  Frize-Coat,  and  to  every  Woman  a  black 
Kiding-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  Gray-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 


326  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

deal  more  in  Charity,  wliich  is  not  yet  come  to  my 
Knowledge,  and  it  is  peremptorily  said  in  the  Parish,  that 
he  has  left  Mony  to  build  a  Steeple  to  the  Church ;  for  he 
was  heard  to  say  some  time  ago,  that  if  he  lived  two 
Years  longer,  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  Coverlies,  on  the  Left  Hand  of  his  Fv.\tr, 
Sir  Arthur.  The  Coffin  was  carried  by  Six  of  his  .^'^n- 
ants,  and  the  Pall  held  up  by  Six  of  the  Quorum:  The 
whole  Parish  foUow'd  the  Corps  with  heavy  Hearts,  and 
in  their  Mourning  Suits,  the  Men  in  Prize,  and  the 
Women  in  Eiding-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  be- 
fore his  Death,  he  shook  him  by  the  Hand,  and  wished 
him  Joy  of  the  Estate  which  was  falling  to  him,  desiring 
him  only  to  make  good  Use  of  it,  and  to  pay  the  several 
Legacies,  and  the  Gifts  of  Charity  which  he  told  him 
he  had  left  as  Quit-rents  upon  the  Estate.  The  Captain 
truly  seems  a  courteous  Man,  though  he  says  but  little. 
He  makes  much  of  those  whom  my  Master  loved,  and 
shews  great  Kindness  to  the  old  House-dog,  that  you 
know  my  poor  Master  was  so  fond  of.  It  would  have 
gone  to  your  Heart  to  have  heard  the  Moans  the  dumb 
Creature  made  on  the  Day  of  my  Master's  Death.  He 
has  ne'er  joyed  himself  since;  no  more  has  any  of  us. 
'Twas  the  melancholiest  Day  for  the  poor  People  that 
ever  happened  in  Worcestershire.  This  being  all  from, 
"Honored  Sir, 

"Your  most  Sorrowful  Servant, 

"Edward  Biscuit." 

'T.  8.  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.'' 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  327 

This  letter,  notwithstanding  the  poor  butler's  manner 
of  writing  it,  gave  us  such  an  idea  of  our  good  old  friend 
that  upon  the  reading  of  it  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  in 
the  club.  Sir  Andrew,  opening  the  book,  found  it  to  be 
a  collection  of  Acts  of  Parliament.  There  was  in  par- 
ticular the  Act  of  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  had  dis- 
puted with  Sir  Eoger  the  last  time  he  appeared  at  the 
club.  Sir  Andrew,  who  would  have  been  merry  at  such 
an  incident  on  another  occasion,  at  the  sight  of  the  old 
man's  handwriting  burst  into  tears,  and  put  the  book 
into  his  pocket.  Captain  Sentry  informs  me  that  the 
knight  has  left  rings  and  mourning  for  every  one  in 
the  club.  O. 

[The  Freeholder  No.  22.     Monday,  March  6,  1716. 
Addison.] 

Studiis  rudis,  sermone  barbarus,  impetu  strenuus,  manu 
promptus,  cogitatione  celer.^*^ — ^Vell.     Paterc. 

For  the  honor  of  his  Majesty,  and  the  safety  of  his 
government,  we  cannot  but  observe,  that  those  who  have 
appeared  the  greatest  enemies  to  both,  are  of  that  rank 
of  men,  who  are  commonly  distinguished  by  the  title  of 
Foxhunters.  As  several  of  these  have  had  no  part  of 
their  education  in  cities,  camps,  or  courts,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  they  are  of  greater  ornament  or  use  to  the  na- 
tion in  which  they  live.  It  would  be  an  everlasting  re- 
proach to  politics,  should  such  men  be  able  to  overturn 
an  establishment  which  has  been  formed  by  the  wisest 
laws,  and  is  supported  by  the  ablest  heads.  The  wrong 
notions  and  prejudices  which  cleave  to  many  of  these 
country  gentlemen,  who  have  always  lived  out  of  the  way 
of  being  better  informed,  are  not  easy  to  be  conceived  by 
a  person  who  has  never  conversed  with  them. 

*  Uncultivated  in  taste,  rude  in  speech,  restlessly  impetuoil9» 
quick  to  blows,  hasty  in  thought. 


328  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

That  I  may  give  my  readers  an  image  of  these  rural 
statesm.en,  I  shall,  without  farther  preface,  set  down  an 
account  of  a  discourse  I  chanced  to  have  with  one  of  them 
some  time  ago.  I  was  traveling  towards  one  of  the  re- 
mote parts  of  England,  when  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  seeing  a  country  gentleman  trotting  before 
me  with  a  spaniel  by  his  horse's  side,  I  made  up  to  him. 
Our  conversation  opened,  as  usual,  upon  the  weather;  in 
which  we  were  very  unanimous;  having  both  agreed  that 
it  was  too  dry  for  the  season  of  the  year.  My  fellow- 
traveler,  upon  this,  observed  to  me,  that  there  had  been 
no  good  weather  since  the  Eevolution.  I  was  a  little 
startled  at  so  extraordinary  a  remark,  but  would  not  in- 
terrupt him  till  he  proceeded  to  tell  me  of  the  fine  weather 
they  used  to  have  in  King  Charles  the  Second's  reign. 
I  only  answered  that  I  did  not  see  how  the  badness  of 
the  weather  could  be  the  king's  fault;  and,  without  wait- 
ing for  his  reply,  asked  him  whose  house  it  was  we  saw 
upon  a  rising  ground  at  a  little  distance  from  us.  He 
told  me  it  belonged  to  an  old  fanatical  cur,  Mr.  Such-a- 
one.  'TTou  must  have  heard  of  him,"  says  he,  ^Tie's  one 
of  the  Eump."  I  knew  the  gentleman's  character  upon 
hearing  his  name,  but  assured  him  that  to  my  knowledge 
he  was  a  good  churchman:  "Aye!"  says  he  with  a  kind 
of  surprise,  "We  were  told  in  the  country,  that  he  spoke 
twice  in  the  queen's  time  against  taking  off  the  duties 
upon  French  claret."  This  naturally  led  us  in  the  pro- 
ceedings of  late  Parliaments,  upon  which  occasion  he  af- 
firmed roundly,  that  there  had  not  been  one  good  law 
passed  since  King  William's  accession  to  the  throne, 
except  the  act  for  preserving  the  game.  I  had  a  mind 
to  see  him  out,  and  therefore  did  not  care  for  contra- 
dicting him.  'T[s  it  not  hard,"  says  he,  "that  honest  gen- 
tlemen should  be  taken  into  custody  of  messengers  to 
prevent  them  from  acting  according  to  their  consciences  ? 
But,"  says  he,  "what  can  we  expect  when  a  parcel  of  fac- 
tious sons  of "    He  was  going  on  in  great  passion,  but 

chanced  to  miss  his  dog,  who  was  amusing  himself  about 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  329 

a  bush,  that  grew  at  some  distance  behind  us.  We  stood 
still  till  he  had  whistled  him  up ;  when  he  fell  into  a  long 
panegyric  upon  his  spaniel,  who  seemed  indeed  excellent 
in  his  kind:  but  I  found  the  most  remarkable  adventure 
of  his  life  was,  that  he  had  once  like  to  have  worried  a 
dissenting  teacher.  The  master  could  hardly  sit  on  his 
horse  for  laughing  all  the  while  he  was  giving  me  the 
particulars  of  this  story,  which  I  found  had  mightily 
endeared  his  dog  to  him,  and  as  he  himself  told  me,  had 
made  him  a  great  favorite  among  all  the  honest  gentle- 
men of  the  country.  We  were  at  length  diverted  from 
this  piece  of  mirth  by  a  post-boy,  who  winding  his  horn 
at  us,  my  companion  gave  him  two  or  three  curses,  and 
left  the  way  clear  for  him.  '^I  fancy,"  said  I,  "that  post 
brings  news  from  Scotland.  I  shall  long  to  see  the  next 
Gazette."  "Sir,"  says  he,  "I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  be- 
lieve any  of  your  printed  news.  We  never  see,  sir,  how 
things  go,  except  now  and  then  in  Dyer's  Letter,  and  I 
read  that  more  for  the  style  than  the  news.  The  man  has 
a  clever  pen  it  must  be  owned.  But  is  it  not  strange 
that  we  should  be  making  war  upon  Church  of  England 
men,  with  Dutch  and  Swiss  soldiers,  men  of  anti-mon- 
archical principles?  these  foreigners  will  never  be  loved 
in  England,  sir;  they  have  not  that  wit  and  good-breeding 
that  we  have."  I  must  confess  I  did  not  expect  to  hear 
my  new  acquaintance  value  himself  upon  these  qualifica- 
tions, but  finding  him  such  a  critic  upon  foreigners,  I 
asked  him  if  he  had  ever  traveled;  he  told  me,  he  did 
not  know  what  traveling  was  good  for,  but  to  teach  a  man 
to  ride  the  great  horse,  to  jabber  French,  and  to  talk 
against  passive  obedience:  to  which  he  added,  that  he 
scarce  ever  knew  a  traveler  in  his  life  who  had  not  for- 
sook his  principles,  and  lost  his  hunting-seat.  "For  my 
part,"  says  he,  "I  and  my  father  before  me  have  always 
been  for  passive  obedience,  and  shall  be  always  for  op- 
posing a  Prince  who  makes  use  of  ministers  that  are  of 
another  opinion.  But  where  do  you  intend  to  inn  to- 
night? (for  we  were  now  come  in  sight  of  the  next  town) 


330  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

I  can  help  you  to  a  very  good  landlord  if  you  will  go 
along  with  me.  He  is  a  lusty  jolly  fellow,  that  lives  well, 
at  least  three  yards  in  the  girt,  and  the  best  Church  of 
England  man  upon  the  road.'^  I  had  a  curiosity  to  see 
this  high-church  inn-keeper,  as  well  as  to  enjoy  more  of 
the  conversation  of  my  fellow-traveler,  and  therefore  read- 
ily consented  to  set  our  horses  together  for  that  night. 
As  we  rode  side  by  side  through  the  town,  I  was  let  into 
the  characters  of  all  the  principal  inhabitants  whom  we 
met  in  our  way.  One  was  a  dog,  another  a  whelp,  an- 
other a  cur,  and  another  the  son  of  a  bitch,  under  which 
several  denominations  were  comprehended  all  that  voted 
on  the  Whig  side  in  the  last  election  of  burgesses.  As 
for  those  of  his  own  party,  he  distinguished  them  by  a 
nod  of  his  head,  and  asking  them  how  they  did  by  their 
Christian  names.  Upon  our  arrival  at  the  inn,  my  com- 
panion fetched  out  the  jolly  landlord,  who  knew  him  by 
his  whistle.  Many  endearments,  and  private  whispers 
passed  between  them;  though  it  was  easy  to  see,  by  the 
landlord's  scratching  his  head,  that  things  did  not  go  to 
their  wishes.  The  landlord  had  swelled  his  body  to  a 
prodigious  size,  and  worked  up  his  complexion  to  a  stand- 
ing crimson  by  his  zeal  for  the  prosperity  of  the  church, 
which  he  expressed  every  hour  of  the  day,  as  his  cus- 
tomers dropped  in,  by  repeated  bumpers.  He  had  not 
time  to  go  to  church  himself,  but,  as  my  friend  told  me 
in  my  ear,  had  headed  a  mob  at  the  pulling  down  of  two 
or  three  meeting-houses.  While  supper  was  prepared,  he 
enlarged  upon  the  happiness  of  the  neighboring  shire; 
*Tor,"  says  he,  "there  is  scarce  a  Presbyterian  in  the 
whole  county,  except  the  bishop."  In  short,  I  found  by 
his  discourse  that  he  had  learned  a  great  deal  of  politics, 
but  not  one  word  of  religion,  from  the  parson  of  his  par- 
ish; and,  indeed,  that  he  had  scarce  any  other  notion  of 
religion,  but  that  it  consisted  in  hating  Presbyterians.  I 
had  a  remarkable  instance  of  his  notions  in  this  par- 
ticular. Upon  seeing  a  poor  decrepit  old  woman  pass 
under  the  window  where  we  sat,  he  desired  me  to  take 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  831 

notice  of  her;  and  afterwards  informed  me,  that  she  was 
generally  reputed  a  witch  by  the  country  people,  but  that, 
for  his  part,  he  was  apt  to  believe  she  was  a  Presbyterian. 
Supper  was  no  sooner  served  in,  than  he  took  occasion, 
from  a  shoulder  of  mutton  that  lay  before  us,  to  cry  up 
the  plenty  of  England,  which  would  be  the  happiest  coun- 
try in  the  world,  provided  we  would  live  within  our- 
selves. Upon  which,  he  expatiated  on  the  inconveniences 
of  trade,  that  carried  from  us  the  commodities  of 
our  country,  and  made  a  parcel  of  upstarts  as  rich  as 
men  of  the  most  ancient  families  of  England.  He  then 
declared  frankly,  that  he  had  always  been  against  all 
treaties  and  alliances  with  foreigners;  *'Our  wooden 
walls,''  says  he,  "are  our  security,  and  we  may  bid  defi- 
ance to  the  whole  world,  especially  if  they  should  attack 
us  when  the  militia  is  out."  I  ventured  to  reply,  that  I 
had  as  great  an  opinion  of  the  English  fleet  as  he  had; 
but  I  could  not  see  how  they  could  be  paid,  and  manned, 
and  fitted  out,  unless  we  encouraged  trade  and  naviga- 
tion. He  replied  with  some  vehemence  that  he  would 
undertake  to  prove  trade  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  Eng- 
lish nation.  I  would  fain  have  put  him  upon  it;  but  he 
contented  himself  with  affirming  it  more  eagerly,  to  which 
he  added  two  or  three  curses  upon  the  London  merchants, 
not  forgetting  the  directors  of  the  Bank.  After  supper 
he  asked  me  if  I  was  an  admirer  of  punch;  and  immedi- 
ately called  for  a  sneaker.  I  took  this  occasion  to  insinu- 
ate the  advantages  of  trade,  by  observing  to  him,  that 
water  was  the  only  native  of  England  that  could  be  made 
use  of  on  this  occasion:  but  that  the  lemons,  the  brandy, 
the  sugar,  and  the  nutmeg  were  all  foreigners.  This  put 
him  into  some  confusion ;  but  the  landlord,  who  overheard 
me,  brought  him  off,  by  affirming,  that  for  constant  use, 
there  was  no  liquor  like  a  cup  of  English  water,  pro- 
vided it  had  malt  enough  in  it.  My  squire  laughed  heart- 
ily at  the  conceit,  and  made  the  landlord  sit  down  with 
us.  We  sat  pretty  late  over  our  punch;  and,  amidst  a 
great  deal  of  improving  discourse,  drank  the  healths  of 


382  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

several  persons  in  the  country,  whom  I  had  never  heard 
of,  that,  they  both  assured  me,  were  the  ablest  statesmen 
in  the  nation :  and  of  some  Londoners,  whom  they  extolled 
to  the  skies  for  their  wit,  and  who,  I  knew,  passed  in  town 
for  silly  fellows.  It  being  now  midnight,  and  my  friend 
perceiving  by  his  almanac  that  the  moon  was  up,  he  called 
for  his  horses,  and  took  a  sudden  resolution  to  go  to  his 
house,  which  was  at  three  miles'  distance  from  the  town, 
after  having  bethought  himself  that  he  never  slept  well 
out  of  his  own  bed.  He  shook  me  very  heartily  by  the 
hand  at  parting,  and  discovered  a  great  air  of  satisfac- 
tion in  his  looks,  that  he  had  met  with  an  opportunity 
of  showing  his  parts,  and  left  me  a  much  wiser  man  than 
he  found  me. 


[The  Freeholder  No.  44.     Monday,  May  21,  1716. 
Addison.] 

Multaque  prseterea  variarum  monstra  ferarum 
Centauri  in  foribus  stabulant,  Scyllseque  biformes, 
Et  centum  geminus  Briareus,  ac  bellua  Lernse, 
Horrendum  stridens,   flammisque  armata   Chimaera, 
Gorgones,  Harpyiaeque,  et  forma  tricorporis  umbrae. 
Corripit  hie   subita  trepidus  formidine  ferrum 
^neas,   strictamque   aciem  venientibus  offert. 
Et  in  docta  comes  tenues  sinex  corpore  vitas 
Admoneat  volitare  cava  sub  imagine  tormse, 
Irruant,  et  frustra  ferro  diverberet  umbras.^ — ^Virg. 

As  I  was  last  Friday  taking  a  walk  in  the  park,  I  saw 
a  country  gentleman  at  the  side  of  Rosamond's  pond, 
pulling  a  handful  of  oats  out  of  his  pocket,  and  with  a 

^  There  are  the  phantoms,  besides,  of  a  myriad  monsters  prodigious ; 
Centaurs  abide  at  the  gates,  with  Scylla,  half  beast  and  half  numan, 
Hundred-handed  Briareus,  too,  and  the  Dragon  of  Lerna, 
Horribly    hissing;     and,    armed    with     breathings    of    flame,     the 

Chimaera  ; 
Gorgons,  and  Harpies  dire,  and  Geryon's  three-headed  spectre. 
Here,  ^Eneas,  in  sudden  alarm  unsheathing  his  dagger. 
Flashes  the  naked  blade  in  defiance  of  all  who  approach  him ; 
And  did  his  wiser  guide  not  warn  him  that  light,  unsubstantial 
Beings  are  flitting  about  in  the  shadowy  semblance  of  bodies, 
He  would  attack  with  the  sword,  and  vainly  strike  shadows  asunder. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  833 

great  deal  of  pleasure,  gathering  the  ducks  about  him. 
Upon  my  coming  up  to  him,  who  should  it  be  but  my 
friend  the  foxhunter,  whom  I  gave  some  account  of  in 
my  twenty-second  paper!  I  immediately  joined  him;  and 
partook  of  his  diversion,  till  he  had  not  an  oat  left  in  his 
pocket.  We  then  made  the  tour  of  the  park  together, 
when  after  having  entertained  me  with  the  description  of 
a  decoy-pond  that  lay  near  his  seat  in  the  country,  and  of 
a  meeting-house  that  was  going  to  be  rebuilt  in  a  neigh- 
boring market-town,  he  gave  me  an  account  of  some  very 
odd  adventures  which  he  had  met  with  that  morning; 
and  which  I  shall  lay  together  in  a  short  and  faithful  his- 
tory, as  well  as  my  memory  will  give  me  leave. 

My  friend,  who  has  a  natural  aversion  to  London, 
would  never  have  come  up,  had  not  he  been  subpoenaed 
to  it,  as  he  told  me,  in  order  to  give  his  testimony  for 
one  of  the  rebels,  whom  he  knew  to  be  a  very  fair  sports- 
man. Having  traveled  all  night,  to  avoid  the  inconven- 
iences of  dust  and  heat,  he  arrived  with  his  guide,  a  little 
after  break  of  day,  at  Charing  Cross;  where,  to  his  great 
surprise,  he  saw  a  running  footman  carried  in  a  chair, 
followed  by  a  waterman  in  the  same  kind  of  vehicle.  He 
was  wondering  at  the  extravagance  of  their  masters,  that 
furnished  them  with  such  dresses  and  accommodations, 
when  on  a  sudden  he  beheld  a  chimney-sweeper,  con- 
veyed after  the  same  manner,  with  three  footmen  run- 
ning before  him.  During  his  progress  through  the 
Strand,  he  met  with  several  other  figures  no  less  wonder- 
ful and  surprising.  Seeing  a  great  many  in  rich  morn- 
ing-gowns, he  was  amazed  to  find  that  persons  of  quality 
were  up  so  early:  and  was  no  less  astonished  to  see  many 
lawyers  in  their  bar-gowns,  when  he  knew  by  his  almanac 
the  term  was  ended.  As  he  was  extremely  puzzled  and 
confounded  in  himself  what  all  this  should  mean,  a  hack- 
ney-coach chancing  to  pass  by  him,  four  bats  popped  out 
their  heads  all  at  once,  which  very  much  frighted  both 
him  and  his  horse.  My  friend,  who  always  takes  care  to 
cure  his  horse  of  such  starting  fits,  spurred  him  up  to 


334  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

the  very  side  of  the  coach,  to  the  no  small  diversion  of 
the  bats;  who,  seeing  him  with  his  long  whip,  horse-hair 
periwig,  jockey-belt,  and  coat  without  sleeves,  fancied  him 
to  be  one  of  the  masqueraders  on  horseback,  and  received 
him  with  a  loud  peal  of  laughter.  His  mind  being  full 
of  idle  stories,  which  are  spread  up  and  down  the  na- 
tion by  the  disaffected,  he  immediately  concluded  that  all 
the  persons  he  saw  in  these  strange  habits  were  foreign- 
ers, and  conceived  a  great  indignation  against  them,  for 
pretending  to  laugh  at  an  English  country-gentleman. 
But  he  soon  recovered  out  of  his  error,  by  hearing  the 
voices  of  several  of  them,  and  particularly  of  a  shep- 
herdess quarreling  with  her  coachman,  and  threatening 
to  break  his  bones  in  very  intelligible  English,  though 
with  a  masculine  tone.  His  astonishment  still  increased 
upon  him,  to  see  a  continued  procession  of  harlequins, 
scaramouches,  punchineUos,  and  a  thousand  other  merry 
dresses,  by  which  people  of  quality  distinguish  their  wit 
from  that  of  the  vulgar. 

Being  now  advanced  as  far  as  Somerset  House,  and 
observing  it  to  be  the  great  hive  whence  this  swarm  of 
chimeras  issued  forth  from  time  to  time,  my  friend  took 
his  station  among  a  cluster  of  mob,  who  were  making 
themselves  merry  with  their  betters.  The  first  that  came 
out  was  a  very  venerable  matron,  with  a  nose  and  chin, 
that  were  within  a  very  little  of  touching  one  another. 
My  friend,  at  the  first  view  fancying  her  to  be  an  old 
woman  of  quality,  out  of  his  good  breeding  put  off  his  hat 
to  her,  when  the  person  pulling  off  her  mask,  to  his  great 
surprise  appeared  a  smock-faced  young  fellow.  His  at- 
tention was  soon  taken  off  from  this  object,  and  turned  to 
another  that  had  very  hollow  eyes  and  a  wrinkled  face, 
which  flourished  in  all  the  bloom  of  fifteen.  The  white- 
ness of  the  lily  was  blended  in  it  with  the  blush  of  the 
rosa  He  mistook  it  for  a  very  whimsical  kind  of  mask; 
but  upon  a  nearer  view  he  found  that  she  held  her  vizard 
in  her  hand,  and  that  what  he  saw  was  oniy  her  natural 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  335 

countenance,  touched  up  with  the  usual  improvements 
of  an  aged  coquette. 

The  next  Y^ho  showed  herself  was  a  female  quaker,  so 
very  pretty,  that  he  could  not  forbear  licking  his  lips,  and 
saying  to  the  mob  about  him,  ^^It  is  ten  thousand  pities 
she  is  not  a  church-woman."  The  quaker  was  followed 
by  half  a  dozen  nuns,  who  filed  off  one  after  another  up 
Catherine  Street,  to  their  respective  convents  in  Drury 
Lane. 

The  squire  observing  the  preciseness  of  their  dress, 
began  now  to  imagine  after  all,  that  this  was  a  nest  of 
sectaries;  for  he  had  often  heard  that  the  town  was  full 
of  them.  He  was  confirmed  in  this  opinion  upon  seeing 
a  conjuror,  whom  he  guessed  to  be  the  holderforth.  How- 
ever, to  satisfy  himself  he  asked  a  porter,  who  stood  next 
him,  what  religion  these  people  were  of?  The  porter  re- 
plied, "They  are  of  no  religion;  it  is  a  masquerade." 
"Upon  that  (says  my  friend),  I  began  to  smoke  that  they 
were  a  parcel  of  mummers" ;  and  being  himself  one  of  the 
quorum  in  his  own  country,  could  not  but  wonder  that 
none  of  the  Middlesex  justices  took  care  to  lay  some  of 
them  by  the  heels.  He  was  the  more  provoked  in  the 
spirit  of  magistracy,  upon  discovering  two  very  unseemly 
objects:  the  first  was  a  judge,  who  rapped  out  a  great 
oath  at  his  footman;  and  the  other  a  big-bellied  woman, 
who  upon  taking  a  leap  into  the  coach,  miscarried  of  a 
cushion.  What  still  gave  him  greater  offense  was  a 
drunken  bishop,  who  reeled  from  one  side  of  the  court 
to  the  other,  and  was  very  sweet  upon  an  Indian  queen. 
But  his  worship,  in  the  midst  of  his  austerity,  was  molli- 
fied at  the  sight  of  a  very  lovely  milk-maid,  whom  he  be- 
gan to  regard  with  an  eye  of  mercy,  and  conceived  a  par- 
ticular affection  for  her,  until  he  found,  to  his  great 
amazement,  that  the  standers-by  suspected  her  to  be  a 
duchess. 

I  must  not  conclude  this  narrative  without  mention- 
ing one  disaster  which  happened  to  my  friend  on  this  oc« 
casion.    Having  for  his  better  convenience  dismounted. 


336  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

and  mixed  among  tte  crowd,  lie  found,  upon  his  arrival 
at  the  inn,  that  he  had  lost  his  purse  and  his  almanac. 
And  though  it  is  no  wonder  such  a  trick  should  be  played 
him  by  some  of  the  curious  spectators,  he  cannot  beat  it 
out  of  his  head,  but  that  it  was  a  cardinal  who  picked  his 
pocket,  and  that  this  cardinal  was  a  Presbyterian  in  dis* 
guise. 

[The  Freeholder  No.  45.    FRroAY,  May  25,  1716. 

Addison.] 

Nimium  risus  pretium  est  si  probitatis  impendio  constat.* 

— QUINTIL. 

I  have  lately  read,  with  much  pleasure,  the  essays 
upon  several  subjects  published  by  Sir  Eichard  Blackmore; 
and  though  I  agree  with  him  in  many  of  his  excellent  ob- 
servations, I  cannot  but  take  that  reasonable  freedom, 
which  he  himself  makes  use  of  with  regard  to  other  writ- 
ers, to  dissent  from  him  in  some  few  particulars.  In  his 
reflections  upon  works  of  wit  and  humor,  he  observes  how 
unequal  they  are  to  combat  vice  and  folly;  and  seems  to 
think,  that  the  finest  raillery  and  satire,  though  directed 
by  these  generous  views,  never  reclaimed  one  vicious  man, 
or  made  one  fool  depart  from  his  folly. 

This  is  a  position  very  hard  to  be  contradicted,  be- 
cause no  author  knows  the  number  or  names  of  his  con- 
verts. As  for  the  Tatlers  and  Spectators  in  particular, 
which  are  obliged  to  this  ingenious  and  useful  author  for 
the  character  he  has  given  of  them,  they  were  so  gener- 
ally dispersed  in  single  sheets,  and  have  since  been 
printed  in  so  great  numbers,  that  it  is  to  be  hoped  they 
have  made  some  proselytes  to  the  interests,  if  not  to  the 
practise  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  among  such  a  multitude 
of  readers. 

I  need  not  remind  this  learned  gentleman,  that  Socrates, 

1  The  price  of  a  laugh  is  too  great  if  it  involves  the  sacrifice 
of  propriety. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  837 

who  wa8  the  greatest  propagator  of  morality  in  the 
heathen  world,  and  a  martyr  for  the  unity  of  the  God- 
head, was  so  famous  for  the  exercise  of  this  talent  among 
the  politest  people  of  antiquity,  that  he  gained  the  name 
of  (  oEipcov  )  the  Droll. 

There  are  very  good  effects  which  visibly  arose  from 
the  above-mentioned  performances,  and  others  of  the  like 
nature;  as,  in  the  first  place,  they  diverted  raillery  from 
improper  objects,  and  gave  a  new  turn  to  ridicule,  which 
for  many  years  had  been  exerted  on  persons  and  things 
of  a  sacred  and  serious  nature.  They  endeavored  to  make 
mirth  instructive,  and  if  they  failed  in  this  great  end, 
they  must  be  allowed  at  least  to  have  made  it  innocent. 
If  wit  and  humor  begin  again  to  relapse  into  their  for- 
mer licentiousness,  they  can  never  hope  for  approbation 
from  those  who  know  that  raillery  is  useless  when  it  has 
no  moral  under  it,  and  pernicious  when  it  attacks  any- 
thing that  is  either  unblamable  or  praiseworthy.  To  this 
we  may  add,  what  has  been  commonly  observed,  that  it 
is  not  difficult  to  be  merry  on  the  side  of  vice,  as  serious 
objects  are  the  most  capable  of  ridicule;  as  the  party, 
which  naturally  favors  such  a  mirth,  is  the  most  numer- 
ous; and  as  there  are  the  most  standing  jests  and  pat- 
terns for  imitation  in  this  kind  of  writing. 

In  the  next  place :  such  productions  of  wit  and  humor, 
as  have  a  tendency  to  expose  vice  and  folly,  furnish  use- 
ful diversions  to  all  kinds  of  readers.  The  good  or  pru- 
dent man  may,  by  these  means,  be  diverted,  without 
prejudice  to  his  discretion  or  morality,  Eaillery,  under 
such  regulations,  unbends  the  mind  from  serious  studies 
and  severer  contemplations,  without  throwing  it  off  from 
its  proper  bias.  It  carries  on  the  same  design  that  is 
promoted  by  authors  of  a  graver  turn,  and  only  does  it 
in  another  manner.  It  also  awakens  reflection  in  those 
who  are  the  most  indifferent  in  the  cause  of  virtue  or 
knowledge,  by  setting  before  them  the  absurdity  of  such 
practises  as  are  generally  unobserved,  by  reason  of  their 
being  common  or  fashionable;  nay,  it  sometimes  catches 


338  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

the  dissolute  and  abandoned  before  they  are  aware  of  it; 
who  are  often  betrayed  to  laugh  at  themselves,  and  upon 
reflection  find,  that  they  are  merry  at  their  own  expense. 
I  might  farther  take  notice,  that  by  entertainments  of 
this  kind,  a  man  may  be  cheerful  in  solitude,  and  not  be 
forced  to  seek  for  company  every  time  he  has  a  mind  to 
be  merry. 

The  last  advantage  I  shall  mention  from  compositions 
of  this  nature,  when  thus  restrained,  is,  that  they  show 
wisdom  and  virtue  are  far  from  being  inconsistent  with 
politeness  and  good  humor.  They  make  morality  appear 
amiable  to  people  of  gay  dispositions,  and  refute  the  com- 
mon objection  against  religion,  which  represents  it  as  only 
fit  for  gloomy  and  melancholy  tempers.  It  was  the  motto 
of  a  bishop  very  eminent  for  his  piety  and  good  works 
in  King  Charles  the  Second's  reign,  Inservi  Deo  et  Icetare, 
Serve  God  and  be  cheerful.  Those  therefore  who  supply 
the  world  with  such  entertainments  of  mirth  as  are  in- 
structive, or  at  least  harmless,  may  be  thought  to  deserve 
well  of  mankind;  to  which  I  shall  only  add,  that  they 
retrieve  the  honor  of  polite  learning,  and  answer  those 
sour  enthusiasts  who  affect  to  stigmatize  the  finest  and 
most  elegant  authors,  both  ancient  and  modern  (which 
they  have  never  read)  as  dangerous  to  religion,  and  de- 
structive of  all  sound  and  saving  knowledge. 

Our  nation  are  such  lovers  of  mirth  and  humor,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  detached  papers,  which  come  out  on 
stated  days,  either  to  have  a  general  run,  or  long  con- 
tinuance, if  they  are  not  diversified,  and  enlivened  from 
time  to  time,  with  subjects  and  thoughts,  accommodated 
to  this  taste  which  so  prevails  among  our  countrymen. 
No  periodical  author,  who  always  maintains  his  gravity, 
and  does  not  sometimes  sacrifice  to  the  Graces,  must  ex- 
pect to  keep  in  vogue  for  any  considerable  time.  Po- 
litical speculations  in  particular,  however  just  and  im- 
portant, are  of  so  dry  and  austere  a  nature,  that  they  will 
not  go  down  with  the  public  without  frequent  seasonings 
of  this  kind.     The  work  may  be  well  performed,  but  will 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  339 

never  take,  if  it  is  not  set  off  with  proper  scenes  and 
decorations.  A  mere  politician  is  but  a  dull  companion, 
and,  if  he  is  always  wise,  is  in  great  danger  of  being  tire- 
some or  ridiculous. 

Besides,  papers  of  entertainment  are  necessary  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  readers,  especially  among  those  of 
different  notions  and  principles;  who  by  this  means  may 
be  betrayed  to  give  you  a  fair  hearing,  and  to  know  what 
you  have  to  say  for  yourself.  I  might  likewise  observe, 
that  in  all  political  writings  there  is  something  that  grates 
upon  the  mind  of  the  most  candid  reader,  in  opinions 
which  are  not  conformable  to  his  own  way  of  thinking; 
and  that  the  harshness  of  reasoning  is  not  a  little  soft- 
ened and  smoothed  by  the  infusions  of  mirth  and  pleas- 
antry. 

Political  speculations  do  likewise  furnish  us  with  sev- 
eral objects  that  may  very  innocently  be  ridiculed,  and 
which  are  regarded  as  such  by  men  of  sense  in  all  parties ; 
of  this  kind  are  the  passions  of  our  stateswomen,  and  the 
reasonings  of  our  foxhunters. 

A  writer  who  makes  fame  the  chief  end  of  his  endeav- 
ors, and  would  be  more  desirous  of  pleasing  than  of  im- 
proving his  readers,  might  find  an  inexhaustible  fund  of 
mirth  in  politics.  Scandal  and  satire  are  never-failing 
gratifications  to  the  public.  Detraction  and  obloquy  are 
received  with  as  much  eagerness  as  wit  and  humor. 
Should  a  writer  single  out  particular  persons,  or  point 
his  raillery  at  any  order  of  men,  who  by  their  profession 
ought  to  be  exempt  from  it;  should  he  slander  the  inno- 
cent, or  satirize  the  miserable;  or  should  he,  even  on  the 
proper  subjects  of  derision,  give  the  full  play  to  his  mirth, 
without  regard  to  decency  and  good  manners;  he  might 
be  sure  of  pleasing  a  great  part  of  his  readers,  but  must 
be  a  very  ill  man,  if  by  such  a  proceeding  he  could  please 
himself. 


340  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

[The  Freeholder  No.  47.     Friday,  June  1,  1Y16. 
Addison.] 

Cessit  furor,  et  rabida  ora  quierunt.* — ^ViEG. 

I  question  not  but  most  of  my  readers  will  be  very 
well  pleased  to  hear,  that  my  friend  the  foxhunter,  of 
whose  arrival  in  town  I  gave  notice  in  my  forty-fourth 
paper,  is  become  a  convert  to  the  present  establishment, 
and  a  good  subject  to  King  George.  The  motives  to  his 
conversion  shall  be  the  subject  of  this  paper,  as  they  may 
be  of  use  to  other  persons  who  labor  under  those  preju- 
dices and  prepossessions,  which  hung  so  long  upon  the 
mind  of  my  worthy  friend.  These  I  had  an  opportunity 
of  learning  the  other  day,  when,  at  his  request,  we  took 
a  ramble  together,  to  see  the  curiosities  of  this  great  town. 

The  first  circumstance,  as  he  ingeniously  confessed  to 
me  (while  we  were  in  the  coach  together)  which  helped  to 
disabuse  him,  was  seeing  King  Charles  I.  on  horseback, 
at  Charing  Cross ;  for  he  was  sure  that  prince  could  never 
have  kept  his  seat  there,  had  the  stories  been  true  he  had 
heard  in  the  country,  that  forty-one  was  come  about  again. 

He  owned  to  me  that  he  looked  with  horror  on  the  new 
church  that  is  half  built  in  the  Strand,  as  taking  it  at 
first  sight  to  be  half  demolished:  but  upon  inquiring  of 
the  workmen,  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find,  that  instead 
of  pulling  it  down,  they  were  building  it  up;  and  that 
fifty  more  were  raising  in  other  parts  of  the  town. 

To  these  I  must  add  a  third  circumstance,  which  I 
find  had  no  small  share  in  my  friend's  conversion.  Since 
his  coming  to  town,  he  chanced  to  look  into  the  church 
of  St.  Paul,  about  the  middle  of  sermon-time,  where 
having  first  examined  the  dome,  to  see  if  it  stood  safe, 
(for  the  screw-plot  still  ran  in  his  head)  he  observed,  that 
the  lord  mayor,  aldermen,  and  city  sword  were  a  part 
of  the  congregation.     This  sight  had  the  more  weight 

*Tlie  uproar  ceased,  and  the  world  forces  were  still. 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  841 

with  him,  as  by  good  luck  not  above  two  of  that  venerable 
body  were  fallen  asleep. 

This  discourse  held  us  till  we  came  to  the  Tower;  for 
our  first  visit  was  to  the  lions.  My  friend,  who  had  a 
great  deal  of  talk  with  their  keeper,  inquired  very  much 
after  their  health,  and  whether  none  of  them  had  fallen 
sick  upon  the  taking  of  Perth,  and  the  flight  of  the  Pre- 
tender? and  hearing  they  were  never  better  in  their  lives, 
I  found  he  was  extremely  startled :  for  he  had  learned  from 
his  cradle,  that  the  lions  in  the  Tower  were  the  best 
judges  of  the  title  of  our  British  kings,  and  always  sym- 
pathized with  our  sovereigns. 

After  having  here  satiated  our  curiosity,  we  repaired 
to  the  Monument,  where  my  fellow-traveler,  being  a  well- 
breathed  man,  mounted  the  ascent  with  much  speed  and 
activity.  I  was  forced  to  halt  so  often  in  this  perpendicu- 
lar march,  that,  upon  my  joining  him  on  the  top  of  the 
pillar,  I  found  he  had  counted  all  the  steeples  and  towers 
which  were  discernible  from  this  advantageous  situation, 
and  was  endeavoring  to  compute  the  number  of  acres 
they  stood  upon.  We  were  both  of  us  very  well  pleased 
with  this  part  of  the  prospect;  but  I  found  he  cast  an 
evil  eye  upon  several  warehouses,  and  other  buildings,  that 
looked  like  barns,  and  seemed  capable  of  receiving  great 
multitudes  of  people.  His  heart  misgave  him  that  these 
were  so  many  meeting-houses,  but,  upon  communicating 
his  suspicions  to  me,  I  soon  made  him  easy  in  this  par- 
ticular. 

We  then  turned  our  eyes  upon  the  river,  which  gave  me 
an  occasion  to  inspire  him  with  some  favorable  thoughts 
of  trade  and  merchandise,  that  had  filled  the  Thames  with 
such  crowds  of  ships,  and  covered  the  shore  with  such 
swarms  of  people. 

We  descended  very  leisurely,  my  friend  being  careful 
to  count  the  steps,  which  he  registered  in  a  blank  leaf 
of  his  new  almanac.  Upon  our  coming  to  the  bottom, 
observing  an  English  inscription  upon  the  basis,  he  read 
it  over  several  times,  and  told  me  he  could  scarce  believe 


342  ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

his  own  eyes,  for  tliat  lie  had  often  heard  from  an  old  at- 
torney, who  lived  near  him  in  the  country,  that  it  was  the 
Presbyterians  who  burned  down  the  city;  whereas,  says 
he,  this  pillar  positively  affirms  in  so  many  words,  that 
"the  burning  of  this  ancient  city  was  begun  and  carried 
on  by  the  treachery  and  malice  of  the  Popish  faction,  in 
order  to  the  carrying  on  their  horrid  plot  for  extirpating 
the  Protestant  religion,  and  old  English  liberty,  and  in- 
troducing Popery  and  slavery/'  This  account,  which  he 
looked  upon  to  be  more  authentic,  than  if  it  had  been  in 
print,  I  found,  made  a  very  great  impression  upon  him. 

We  now  took  coach  again,  and  made  the  best  of  our 
way  for  the  Koyal  Exchange,  though  I  found  he  did  not 
much  care  to  venture  himself  into  the  throng  of  that 
place;  for  he  told  me  he  had  heard  they  were,  generally 
speaking,  republicans,  and  was  afraid  of  having  his  pocket 
picked  amongst  them.  But  he  soon  conceived  a  better 
opinion  of  them,  when  he  spied  the  statue  of  King  Charles 
II.  standing  up  in  the  middle  of  the  crowd,  and  most  of 
the  kings  in  Baker's  Chronicle  ranged  in  order  over  their 
heads;  from  whence  he  very  justly  concluded,  that  an 
antimonarchical  assembly  could  never  choose  such  a  place 
to  meet  in  once  a  day. 

To  continue  this  good  disposition  in  my  friend,  after 
a  short  stay  at  Stocks  Market,  we  drove  away  directly 
for  the  Mews,  where  he  was  not  a  little  edified  with  the 
sight  of  those  fine  sets  of  horses  which  have  been  brought 
over  from  Hanover,  and  with  the  care  that  is  taken  of 
them.  He  made  many  good  remarks  upon  this  occasion, 
and  was  so  pleased  with  his  company,  that  I  had  much 
ado  to  get  him  out  of  the  stable. 

In  our  progress  to  St.  James's  Park  (for  that  was  the 
end  of  our  journey)  he  took  notice,  with  great  satis- 
faction, that,  contrary  to  his  intelligence  in  the  country, 
the  shops  were  all  open  and  full  of  business ;  that  the  sol- 
diers walked  civilly  in  the  streets;  that  clergymen,  in- 
stead of  being  affronted,  had  generally  the  wall  given 
them;  and  that  he  had  heard  the  bells  ring  to  prayers 


ADDISON  AND  STEELE  343 

from  morning  to  night,  in  some  part  of  the  town  or  an- 
other. 

As  he  was  full  of  these  honest  reflections,  it  happened 
very  luckily  for  us  that  one  of  the  King's  coaches  passed 
by  with  the  three  young  princesses  in  it,  whom  by  an  ac- 
cidental stop  we  had  an  opportunity  of  surveying  for 
some  time :  my  friend  was  ravished  with  the  beauty,  inno- 
cence, and  sweetness,  that  appeared  in  all  their  faces.  He 
declared  several  times,  that  they  were  the  finest  children 
he  had  ever  seen  in  all  his  life;  and  assured  me  that, 
before  this  sight,  if  any  one  had  told  him  it  had  been 
possible  for  three  such  pretty  children  to  have  been  born 
out  of  England  he  should  never  have  believed  them. 

We  were  now  walking  together  in  the  park,  and  as  it  is 
usual  for  men  who  are  naturally  warm  and  heady,  to  be 
transported  with  the  greatest  flush  of  good  nature  when 
they  are  once  sweetened;  he  owned  to  me  very  frankly, 
he  had  been  much  imposed  upon  by  those  false  accounts 
of  things  he  had  heard  in  the  country ;  and  that  he  would 
make  it  his  business,  upon  his  return  thither,  to  set  his 
neighbors  right,  and  give  them  a  more  just  notion  of  the 
present  state  of  affairs. 

What  confirmed  my  friend  in  this  excellent  temper  of 
mind,  and  gave  him  an  inexpressible  satisfaction,  was  a 
message  he  received,  as  we  were  walking  together,  from 
the  prisoner,  for  whom  he  had  given  his  testimony  in  his 
late  trial.  This  person  having  been  condemned  for  his 
part  in  the  late  rebellion,  sent  him  word  that  his  Majesty 
had  been  graciously  pleased  to  reprieve  him,  with  sev- 
eral of  his  friends,  in  order,  as  it  was  thought,  to  give 
them  their  lives;  and  that  he  hoped  before  he  went  out 
of  town  they  should  have  a  cheerful  meeting,  and  drink 
health  and  prosperity  to  King  George. 


THE  MODERN 
STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

Each  volume  edited  with  an  introduction  by  a  leading 

American  authority 

WILL  D.  HOWE,  General  Editor 

This  series  is  composed  of  such  works  as  are  conspicuous  in  the 
province  of  literature  for  their  enduring  influence.  Every  volume 
is  recognized  as  essential  to  a  liberal  education  and  will  tend  to  in- 
fuse a  love  for  true  literature  and  an  appreciation  of  the  qualities 
which  cause  it  to  endure. 


A  WEEK  ON  THE  CONCORD  AND 

MERRIMAC  RIVERS 

By  Henry  David  Thoreau 

With  an  Introduction  by 
ODELL  SHEPARD 

Professor  of  English  at  Trinity  College 

**.  .  .  Here  was  a  man  who  stood  with  his  head  in  the  clouds, 
perhaps,  but  with  his  feet  firmly  planted  on  rubble  and  grit.  He 
was  true  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home.  Thoreau's 
eminently  practical  thought  was  really  concerned,  in  the  last  anal- 
ysis with  definite  human  problems.  The  major  question  how  to  Hve 
was  at  the  end  of  all  his  vistas." 

EMERSON'S  ESSAYS 

Selected  and  edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by 
ARTHUR  HOBSON  QUINN 

Professor  of  English  and  Dean  of  the  College  University  of 
Pennsylvania 

"Among  the  shifting  values  in  our  literary  history,  Emerson  stands 
secure.  As  a  people  we  are  rather  prone  to  underestimate  our  native 
writers  in  relation  to  English  and  continental  authors,  but  even 
among  those  who  have  been  content  to  treat  our  literature  as  a  by- 
product of  British  letters,  Emerson's  significance  has  become  only 
more  apparent  with  time." 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

THE  ESSAYS  OF 
ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Selected  and  edited  by 
WILL  D.  HOWE 

Professor  of  English  at  Indiana  University 

With  the  writings  of  these  two  remarkable  essayists  modem  prose 
began.  It  is  not  merely  that  their  style  even  to-day,  after  two  cen- 
turies, commands  attention,  it  is  equally  noteworthy  that  these 
men  were  among  the  first  to  show  the  possibilities  of  our  language 
in  developing  a  reading  public. 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  AND 
JONATHAN  EDWARDS 

With  an  Introduction  by 
CARL  VAN  DOREN 

Franklin  and  Edwards  often  sharply  contrasted  in  thought  are, 
however,  in  the  main,  complimentary  to  each  other.  In  religion, 
Franklin  was  the  utilitarian,  Edwards  the  mystic.  Franklin  was 
more  interested  in  practical  morality  than  in  revelation;  Edwards 
sought  a  spiritual  exaltation  in  religious  ecstasy.  In  science  Frank- 
lin was  the  practical  experimenter,  Edwards  the  detached  observer, 
the  theoretical  investigator  of  causes. 

THE 
HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN 

By  Sir  Walter  Scott 

With  an  Introduction  by 
WILLIAM  P.  TRENT 

Professor  of  English  at  Columbia  University 

Universally  admitted  one  of  the  world's  greatest  story-tellers, 
"Bcott  himself  considered  "The  Heart  of  Midlothian"  his  master- 
piece, and  it  has  been  accepted  as  such  by  most  of  his  admirers. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENrS  LIBRARY 

THE  ORDEAL  OF 

RICHARD  FEVEREL 

By  George  Meredith 

With  an  Introduction  by 
FRANK  W.  CHANDLER 

Professor  of  English  at  the  University  of  Cincinnati 

"The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel,"  published  in  1859,  was  Mere- 
dith's first  modern  novel  and  probably  his  best.  Certainly  it  was, 
and  has  remained,  the  most  generally  popular  of  all  this  author's 
books  and  among  the  works  of  its  type  it  stands  pre-eminent.  The 
story  embodies  in  the  most  beautiful  form  the  idea  that  in  life  the 
whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth  is  best. 

MEREDITH'S 
ESSAY  ON  COMEDY 

With  an  Introduction,  Notes,  and  Biographical  Sketch  by 
LANE  COOPER 

Professor  of  English  at  Cornell  University 

"Good  comedies,"  Meredith  tells  us,  "are  such  rare  productions 
that,  notwithstanding  the  wealth  of  our  literature  in  the  comic 
element,  it  would  not  occupy  us  long  to  run  over  the  English  list." 

The  "Essay  on  Comedy"  is  in  a  peculiarly  intimate  way  the  ex- 
position of  Meredith's  attitude  toward  life  and  art.  It  helps  us  to 
understand  more  adequately  the  subtle  delicacies  of  his  novels. 

CRITICAL  ESSAYS  OF  THE 
NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

Selected  and  edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by 
RAYMOND  M.  ALDEN 

Professor  of  English  at  Leland  Stanford  University 

The  essays  in  this  volume  include  those  of  Wordsworth,  Copleston, 
Jejffrey,  Scott,  Coleridge,  Lockhart,  Lamb,  Hazlitt,  Byron,  Shelley, 
Newman,  DeQuincey,  Macaulay,  Wilson,  and  Hunt. 


TEE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

ENGLISH  POETS  OF  THE 
EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

Selected  and  Edited  by 
ERNEST  BERNBAUM 

Professor  of  English  at  the  University  of  Illinois 

The  great  age  of  the  eighteenth  century  is,  more  than  any  other, 
perhaps,  mirrored  in  its  poetry,  and  this  anthology  reveals  its  man- 
ners and  ideals. 

While  the  text  of  the  various  poems  is  authentic,  it  is  not  bur- 
dened with  scholastic  editing  and  marginal  comment.  The  collec- 
tion and  its  form  is  one  which  satisfies  in  an  unusual  way  the  in- 
terest of  the  general  reader  as  well  as  that  of  the  specialist. 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 
By  John  Bunyan 

With  an  Introduction  and  Notes  by 
DR.  S.  M.  CROTHERS 

This  book  is  one  of  the  most  vivid  and  entertaining  in  the  English 
language,  one  that  has  been  read  more  than  any  other  in  our  lan- 
guage, except  the  Bible. 

PRIDE  AND  PREJUDICE 
By  Jane  Austen 

With  an  Introduction  by 
WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS 

To  have  this  masterpiece  of  realistic  literature  introduced  by  so 
eminent  a  critic  as  William  Dean  Howells  is,  in  itself,  an  event  in 
the  literary  world.  We  cannot  better  comment  upon  the  edition 
than  by  quoting  from  Mr.  Howells' s  introduction: 

He  says:  **When  I  came  to  read  the  book  the  tenth  or  fifteenth 
time  for  the  purposes  of  this  introduction,  I  found  it  as  fresh  as  when 
I  read  it  first  in  1889,  after  long  shying  off  from  it." 


TEE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

NINETEENTH  CENTURY 
LETTERS 

Selected  and  Edited  by 
BYRON  JOHNSON  REES 

Professor  of  English  at  Williams  College 

Contains  letters  from  William  Blake,  William  Wordsworth, 
Sydney  Smith,  Robert  Southey,  Charles  Lamb,  Washington  Irving, 
Benjamin  Robert  Haydon,  John  Keats,  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle,  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson,  John  Sterling,  Abraham  Lincoln,  William  Make- 
peace Thackeray,  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  Matthew  Arnold, 
Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  George  Meredith,  "Lewis  Carroll,"  Phillips 
Brooks,  Sidney  Lanier,  and  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

PAST  AND  PRESENT 

By  Thomas  Carlyle 

With  an  Introduction  by 
EDWIN  W.  MIMS 

Professor  of  English  at  Vanderbilt  University 

"Past  and  Present,"  written  in  1843,  when  the  industrial  revolu- 
tions had  just  taken  place  in  England  and  when  democracy  and 
freedom  were  the  watchwords  of  liberals  and  progressives,  reads  like 
a  contemporary  volume  on  industrial  and  social  problems, 

BOSWELL'S 
LIFE  OF  JOHNSON 

Abridged  and  edited,  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by 
CHARLES  G.  OSGOOD 

Professor  of  English  at  Princeton  University 

Boswell  has  created  one  of  the  great  masterpieces  of  the  world. 
Seldom  has  an  abridgment  been  made  with  as  great  skill  in  omit- 
ting nothing  vital  and  keeping  proper  proportions  as  this  edition  by 
Professor  Osgood. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENTS  LIBRARY 
BACON'S  ESSAYS 

Selected,  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by 
MARY  AUGUSTA  SCOTT 

Late  Professor  of  English  Literature  at  Smith  College 

These  essays,  the  distilled  wisdom  of  a  great  observer  upon  the 
affairs  of  common  life,  are  of  endless  interest  and  profit.  The  more 
one  reads  them  the  more  remarkable  seem  their  compactness  and 
their  vitality. 

ADAM  BEDE 
By  George  Eliot 

With  an  Introduction  by 
LAURA  J.  WYLIE 

Professor  of  English  at  Vassar  College 

With  the  publication  of  "Adam  Bede'*  in  1859,  it  was  evident 
both  to  England  and  America  that  a  great  novelist  had  appeared. 
**Adam  Bede*'  is  the  most  natural  of  George  Eliot's  books,  simple 
in  problem,  direct  in  action,  with  the  freshness  and  strength  of  the 
Derbyshire  landscape  and  character  and  speech  in  its  pages. 


THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 
By  Robert  Browning 

With  an  Introduction  by 
FREDERICK  MORGAN  PADELFORD 

Professor  of  English  at  Washington  University 

"  *The  Ring  and  the  Book,'  "  says  Dr.  Padelford  in  his  introduc- 
tion, "is  Browning's  supreme  literary  achievement.  It  was  written 
after  the  poet  had  attained  complete  mastery  of  his  very  individual 
style;  it  absorbed  his  creative  activity  for  a  prolonged  period;  and  it 
issued  with  the  stamp  of  his  characteristic  genius  on  every  page." 


^4 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON'S 
ESSAYS 

With  an  Introduction  by 
WILLIAM  LYON  PHELPS 

Professor  of  English  at  Yale  University 

This  volume  includes  not  only  essays  in  formal  literary  criticism^ 
but  also  of  personal  monologue  and  gossip,  as  well  as  philosophical 
essays  on  the  greatest  themes  that  can  occupy  the  mind  of  man.  All 
reveal  the  complex,  whimsical,  humorous,  romantic,  imaginative, 
puritanical  personality  now  known  everywhere  by  the  formula 
R.  L.  S. 

PENDENNIS 
By  Thackeray 

With  an  Introduction  by 
ROBERT  MORSS  LOVETT 

Professor  of  English  at  the  University  of  Chicago 

"Pendennis"  stands  as  a  great  representative  of  biographical 
fiction  and  reflects  more  of  the  details  of  Thackeray's  life  than  all 
his  other  writings.  Of  its  kind  there  is  probably  no  more  interesting 
book  in  our  literature. 

THE 
RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE 

By  Thomas  Hardy 

With  an  Introduction  and  Notes  by 
JOHN  W.  CUNLIFFE 

Professor  of  English  at  Columbia  University 

"The  Return  of  the  Native"  is  probably  Thomas  Hardy's  great 
tragic  masterpiece.  It  carries  to  the  highest  perfection  the  rare 
genius  of  the  finished  writer.  It  presents  in  the  most  remarkable 
way  Hardy's  interpretation  of  nature  in  which  there  is  a  perfect 
unison  between  the  physical  world  and  the  human  character. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 


RUSKIN'S 
SELECTIONS  AND  ESSAYS 

With  an  Introduction  by 
FREDERICK  WILLIAM  ROE 

Assistant  Professor  of  English  at  University  of  Wisconsin 

"Ruskin,"  said  John  Stuart  Mill,  "was  one  of  the  few  men  in 
Europe  who  seemed  to  draw  what  he  said  from  a  source  within  him- 
self."^^  Carlyle  delighted  in  the  "fierce  lightning  bolts"  that  Ruskin 
was  "copiously  and  desperately  pouring  into  the  black  world  of 
anarchy  all  around  him/' 

The  present  volume,  by  its  wide  selection  from  Ruskin's  writings, 
affords  an  unusual  insight  into  this  remarkable  man's  interests  and 
character. 

THE  SCARLET  LETTER 
By  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 

With  an  Introduction  by 
STUART  P.  SHERMAN 

Professor  of  English  at  University  of  Illinois 

"  *T^®.  ^^^^'^*  Letter'  appears  to  be  as  safe  from  competitors 
as  'Pilgrim's  Progress'  or  *  Robinson  Crusoe.'  It  is  recognized  as 
the  classical  treatment  of  its  particular  theme.  Its  symbols  and 
scenes  of  guilt  and  penitence— the  red  letter  on  the  breast  of  Hester 
Prynne,  Arthur  Dimmesdale  on  the  scaffold — have  fixed  themselves 
in  the  memory  of  men  like  the  figure  of  Crusoe  bending  over  the 
footprints  in  the  sand,  and  have  become  a  part  of  the  common  stock 
of  images  like  Christian  facing  the  lions  in  the  way. 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


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