Chapter VI: Part II: | Indulgence (1)

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THE SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY
PAPERS

I. THE SPECTATOR

[No. 1. Thursday, March 1, 1711. ADDISON.]

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

HOR.

I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book
with pleasure till he knows whether the writer of it be a
black[3] or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition,
married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like
nature that conduce very much to the right understanding (45: 5)
of an author. To gratify this curiosity, which is so natural
to a reader, I design this paper and my next as prefatory
discourses to my following 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, (10)
and correcting will fall to my share, I must do myself
the justice to open the work with my own history. I was
born to a small hereditary estate, which, according to the
tradition of the village where it lies, was bounded by the
same hedges and ditches in William the Conqueror's time
that it is at present, and has been delivered down from
father to son whole and entire, without the loss or acquisition (46: 5)
of a single field or meadow, during the space of six
hundred years. There runs a story in the family, that
my mother ... dreamt that she was brought to bed of a
judge: whether this might proceed from a lawsuit which
was then depending[4] in the family, or my father's being a (10)
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 neighbourhood put upon it. The gravity
of my behaviour at my very first appearance in the world, (15)
and all the time that I sucked, seemed to favour my
mother's dream; for, as she had often told me, I threw
away my rattle before I was two months old, and would
not make use of my coral[5] till they had taken away the
bells from it. (20)

[3] _I.e_. of dark complexion. But it will be seen later in the paper
that the Spectator decides not to gratify the curiosity of his readers
on this point.

[4] We should now say, "pending."

[5] A child's toy, made of a piece of coral, usually with a whistle at
one end and bells at the other.

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,[6] I had the reputation of a very sullen
youth, but was always a favourite of my schoolmaster, who
used to say that my parts were solid and would wear well. (25)
I had not been long at the university before I distinguished
myself by a most profound silence; for during
the space of eight years, excepting in the public exercises
of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of an hundred
words; and indeed do not remember that I ever (47: 5)
spoke three sentences together in my whole life. Whilst
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. (10)

[6] Non+age, _i.e_. the years before the youth comes of age.

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 (15)
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 (20)
of a pyramid; and as soon as I had set myself right in
that particular, returned to my native country with great
satisfaction.

I have passed my latter years in this city, where I am
frequently seen in most public places, though there are (25)
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 resort wherein I
do not often make my appearance; sometimes I am seen
thrusting my head into a round of politicians at Will's,
and listening with 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 (48: 5)
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 (10)
the theatres both of Drury Lane and the Haymarket. 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 stockjobbers at Jonathan's. In short,
wherever I see a cluster of people, I always mix with (15)
them, though I never open my lips but in my own club.

Thus I live in the world rather as a Spectator of mankind
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 (20)
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[7] which are apt to escape those who are in the game. (25)
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
character I intend to preserve in this paper.

[7] A blot, in backgammon, is a man left uncovered and so liable to
capture.

I have given the reader just so much of my history and (49: 5)
character as to let him see I am not altogether unqualified
for the business I have undertaken. As for other
particulars in my life and adventures, I shall insert them
in following papers as I shall see occasion. In the mean
time, when I consider how much I have seen, read, and (10)
heard, I begin 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 pity so many (15)
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 any way contribute to
the diversion or improvement of the country in which I live, (20)
I shall leave it, when I am summoned 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 (25)
mean, an account of my name, my age, and my lodgings.
I must confess, I would gratify my reader in anything that
is reasonable; but, as for these three particulars, though
I am sensible they might tend very much to the embellishment
of my paper, I cannot yet come to a resolution
of communicating them to the public. They would indeed
draw me out of that obscurity which I have enjoyed
for many years, and expose me in public places to several
salutes and civilities, which have been always very disagreeable (50: 5)
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[8] of both in the progress of the work I have (10)
undertaken.

[8] Disclosures.

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 (15)
all other matters of importance are--in a club. However,
as my friends have engaged me to stand in the
front, those who have a mind to correspond with me may
direct their letters to the Spectator, at Mr. Buckley's in
Little Britain. For I must further acquaint the reader (20)
that, though our club meets only on Tuesdays and Thursdays,
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.

II. THE CLUB

[No. 2. Friday, March 2, 1711. STEELE.]

Ast alii sex
Et plures uno conclamant ore.

JUV.

The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire,
of ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger
de Coverley. His great-grandfather was inventor of that
famous country-dance which is called after him. All who
know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts (51: 5)
and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very
singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed
from his good sense, and are contradictions to the manners
of the world only as he thinks the world is in the wrong.
However, this humour creates him no enemies, for he does (10)
nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his being unconfined
to modes and forms, makes him but the readier
and more capable[9] 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 (15)
crossed in love by a perverse, beautiful widow of the next
county to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger
was what you call a fine gentleman; had often supped
with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege, 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, (52: 5)
his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, he
grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards.
He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut
that were in fashion at the time of his repulse, which,[10] in
his merry humours, he tells us, has been in and out twelve (10)
times since he first wore it.... He is now in his fifty-sixth
year, cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house
both in town and country; a great lover of mankind;
but there is such a mirthful cast in his behaviour that he is
rather beloved than esteemed. His tenants grow rich, (15)
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 not omit that Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum;[11] (20)
that he fills the chair at a quarter session[12] with great
abilities; and, three months ago, gained universal applause
by explaining a passage in the Game Act.

[9] Is this word correctly used?

[10] Note the careless use of pronouns in this sentence; Addison would
hardly have written it.

[11] Justice of the peace. See _Century Dictionary_ for explanation
of the Latin phrase _quorum unum A.B. esse volumus_ in the commission
issued to justices.

[12] A criminal court held once a quarter, in the counties, by justices
of the peace.

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 direction of an old humoursome father, than in pursuit (53: 5)
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 (10)
relating to marriage-articles, leases, and tenures, in the
neighborhood; all which questions he agrees with an
attorney to answer and take care of in the lump. He is
studying the passions themselves, when he should be
inquiring into the debates among men which arise from (15)
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 (20)
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 customs, manners, actions, and writings (25)
of the ancients makes him a very delicate observer
of what occurs to him in the present world. He is an
excellent critic, and the time of the play is his hour of
business; exactly at five he passes through New Inn,
crosses through Russell Court, and takes a turn at Will's
till the play begins; he has his shoes rubbed and his
periwig powdered at the barber's as you go into the
Rose. It is for the good of the audience when he is at
a play, for the actors have an ambition to please him. (54: 5)

The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew Freeport,
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 (10)
jesting which would make no great figure were he not
a rich man--he calls the sea the British Common. He
is acquainted with commerce in all its parts, and will
tell you that it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend
dominion by arms; for true power is to be got by arts and (15)
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 valour, and
that sloth has ruined more nations than the sword. He (20)
abounds in several frugal maxims, amongst which the
greatest favourite is, "A penny saved is a penny got."
A general trader of good sense is pleasanter company
than a general scholar; and Sir Andrew having a natural,
unaffected eloquence, the perspicuity of his discourse (25)
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, (55: 5)
but invincible modesty. He is one of those that deserve
very well, but are very awkward at putting their talents
within the observation of such as should take notice of
them. He was some years a captain, and behaved himself
with great gallantry in several engagements and at (10)
several sieges; but having a small estate of his own, and
being next heir to Sir Roger, he has quitted a way of
life in which no man can rise suitably to his merit who
is not something of a courtier as well as a soldier.
I have heard him often lament that in a profession (15)
where merit is placed in so conspicuous a view, impudence
should get the better of modesty. When he has
talked to this purpose I never heard him make a sour
expression, but frankly confess that he left the world
because he was not fit for it. A strict honesty and an (20)
even, regular behaviour are in themselves obstacles to him
that must press through crowds who endeavour at the same
end with himself,--the favour of a commander. He will,
however, in his way of talk, excuse generals for not
disposing[13] according to men's desert, or inquiring into it. (25)
"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 importunity of other pretenders by a proper
assurance in his own vindication.[14] He says it is a civil
cowardice to be backward in asserting what you ought to (56: 5)
expect, as it is a military fear to be slow in attacking when
it is your duty. With this candour 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 (10)
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. (15)

[13] Is this a correct modern use of the word?

[14] Can you express Steele's meaning in this clause more precisely?

But that our society may not appear a set of humorists
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[15] ever been very careful of his person, (20)
and always had a very easy fortune, time has made but
very little impression either by wrinkles on his forehead
or traces in his brain. His person is well turned, of a
good height. He is very ready at that sort of discourse
with which men usually entertain women. He has all his (25)
life dressed very well, and remembers habits[16] as others do
men. He can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs
easily. He knows the history of every mode,[17] and can
inform you from which of the French king's wenches our
wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, (57: 5)
that way of placing their hoods; ... 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[18] what such a minister said upon (10)
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,[19]
he has ever about the same time received a kind glance (15)
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; ... that young
fellow's mother used me more like a dog than any woman (20)
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 company
but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks of him as
of that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred, (25)
fine gentleman. To conclude his character, where
women are not concerned, he is an honest, worthy
man.

[15] Another example of Steele's careless structure; correct the
sentence.

[16] Costumes, styles of dress.

[17] Fashion.

[18] Change into a modern idiom.

[19] What is the meaning of this word here?

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 (58: 5)
but seldom; but when he does, it adds to every man else
a new enjoyment of himself. He is a clergyman, a very
philosophic man, of general learning, great sanctity of
life, and the most exact good breeding. He has the
misfortune to be of a very weak constitution, and consequently (10)
cannot accept of such cares and business as
preferments in his function would oblige him to; he is
therefore among divines what a chamber-counsellor is
among lawyers. The probity of his mind and the integrity
of his life create him followers, as being eloquent or (15)
loud advances others. He seldom introduces the subject
he speaks upon; but we are so far gone in years
that he observes, when he is among us, an earnestness to
have him fall on some divine topic, which he always treats
with much authority, as one who has no interests in this (20)
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. R.

III. SIR ROGER'S CRITICISMS ON POLITE
SOCIETY

[No. 6. Wednesday, March 7, 1711. STEELE.]

Credebant hoc grande nefas et morte piandum,
Si iuvenis vetulo non assurrexerat.

JUV.

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 (59: 5)
of wit and sense, than honesty and virtue. But this unhappy
affectation of being wise rather than honest, witty
than good-natured, is the source of most of the ill habits
of life. Such false impressions are owing to the abandoned
writings of men of wit, and the awkward imitation (10)
of the rest of mankind.

For this reason, Sir Roger was saying last night that
he was of opinion none but men of fine parts deserve
to be hanged. The reflections of such men are so delicate
upon all occurrences which they are concerned in, (15)
that they should be exposed to more than ordinary infamy
and punishment for offending against such quick admonitions
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 enjoys the (60: 5)
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 disabled
himself in his right leg, and asks alms all day to get himself
a warm supper ... at night, is not half so despicable (10)
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 satisfactions and enjoyments (15)
within the supply of his own necessities and passions,
is," says Sir Roger, "in my eye, as poor a rogue as
Scarecrow. But," continued he, "for the loss of public
and private virtue we are beholden to your men of parts,
forsooth; it is with them no matter what is done, so it is (20)
done with an air. But to me, who am so whimsical in a
corrupt age as to act according to nature and reason,
a selfish man in the most shining circumstance and equipage,
appears in the same condition with the fellow above-mentioned,
but more contemptible in proportion to what (25)
more he robs the public of and enjoys above him.[20] 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 good-breeding.
Without this, a man, as I have before hinted, is hopping
instead of walking; he is not in his entire and proper (61: 5)
motion."

[20] _I.e_. the fellow above mentioned.

While the honest knight was thus bewildering himself
in good starts,[21] I looked intentively[22] 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, (10)
to polish our understandings and neglect our manners[23] is
of all things the most inexcusable. Reason should govern
passion, but instead of that, you see, it is often subservient
to it; and, as unaccountable as one would think
it, a wise man is not always a good man." (15)

[21] A term used in hunting. But _is_ Sir Roger bewildering himself?

[22] Attentively.

[23] Notice that the word is used in the broad sense of conduct.

This degeneracy is not only the guilt of particular persons,
but also at some times of a whole people; and
perhaps it may appear upon examination that the most
polite ages are the least virtuous. This may be attributed
to the folly of admitting wit and learning as merit in (20)
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 (25)
virtue,--"It is a mighty dishonour and shame to employ
excellent faculties and abundance of wit, to humour 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 (62: 5)
on soon after to say, very generously, that he undertook
the 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 certainly ought to be the purpose of every man who (10)
appears in public; and whoever does not proceed upon
that foundation, injures his country as fast as he succeeds
in his studies. When modesty ceases to be the chief
ornament of one sex and integrity of the other, society
is upon a wrong basis, and we shall be ever after without (15)
rules to guide our judgment in what is really becoming
and ornamental. Nature and reason direct one thing,
passion and humour another. To follow the dictates of
the two latter, is going into a road that is both endless
and intricate; when we pursue the other, our passage is (20)
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. (25)
Is there anything so just, as that mode[24] and gallantry[25]
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 (63: 5)
is done with what we call a good grace.

[24] Fashion.

[25] Politeness, fine manner. Does this sentence seem obscure or
cumbrous? Can you improve it?

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 instinct;
and yet what is so ridiculous as age?[26] I make (10)
this abrupt transition to the mention of this vice[27] 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.

[26] _I.e_. what seems nowadays so ridiculous.

[27] The vice of disrespect for age.

It happened at Athens, during a public representation (15)
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 observed the difficulty and confusion he was in,
made signs to him that they would accommodate him if (20)
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 (25)
benches. But on those occasions there were also particular
places assigned for foreigners. When the good
man skulked towards the boxes appointed for the Lacedemonians,
that honest people, more virtuous than polite,
rose up all, to a man, and with the greatest respect
received him among them. The Athenians, being suddenly
touched with a sense of the Spartan virtue and (64: 5)
their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of applause; and
the old man cried out, "The Athenians understand what
is good, but the Lacedemonians practise it!" R.

IV. THE CLUB AND THE SPECTATOR

[No. 34. Monday, April 9, 1711. ADDISON.]

Parcit
Cognatis maculis similis fera--

JUV.

The club of which I am a member is very luckily composed
of such persons as are engaged in different ways (10)
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 divisions,
not only of this great city, but of the whole kingdom. (15)
My readers, too, have the satisfaction to find that
there is no rank or degree among them who have not
their[28] representative in this club, and that there is always
somebody present who will take care of their respective
interests, that nothing may be written or published to
the prejudice or infringement of their just rights and
privileges.

[28] Correct the bad grammar.

I last night sat very late in company with this select
body of friends, who entertained me with several remarks (65: 5)
which they and others had made upon these my speculations,
as also with the various success which they[29] had
met with among their several ranks and degrees of
readers. Will Honeycomb told me, in the softest manner
he could, that there were some ladies--"but for (10)
your comfort," says Will, "they are not those of the
most wit"--that were offended at the liberties I had
taken with the opera and the puppet-show; that some of
them were likewise very much surprised that I should
think such serious points as the dress and equipage of (15)
persons of quality proper subjects for raillery.

[29] What is the antecedent?

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[30] wives and
daughters were the better for them; and further added, (20)
that the whole city thought themselves very much obliged
to me for declaring my generous intentions to scourge
vice and folly as they appear in a multitude, without condescending
to be a publisher of particular intrigues. "In
short," says Sir Andrew, "if you avoid that foolish beaten (25)
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."

[30] Whose?

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 for
satire; and that the wits of King Charles's time jested
upon nothing else during his whole reign. He then (66: 5)
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
ridicule, how great soever the persons might be that patronized
them. "But after all," says he, "I think your (10)
raillery has made too great an excursion, in attacking
several persons of the Inns of Court; and I do not
believe you can show me any precedent for your behaviour
in that particular."

My good friend Sir Roger de Coverley, who had said (15)
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," says he, "attack every one that deserves it; I
would only advise you, Mr. Spectator,"--applying himself (20)
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." (25)

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 (67: 5)
of them had an aversion to, they left his head altogether
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 (10)
any order of persons should think themselves too
considerable to be advised. That it was not quality, but
innocence, which exempted men from reproof. That vice
and folly ought to be attacked wherever they could be
met with, and especially when they were placed in high (15)
and conspicuous stations of life. He further added, that
my paper would only serve to aggravate the pains of poverty,
if it chiefly exposed those who are already depressed,
and in some measure turned into ridicule, by the meanness
of their conditions and circumstances. He afterwards (20)
proceeded to take notice of the great use this
paper might be of to the public, by reprehending those
vices which are too trivial for the chastisement of the
law, and too fantastical for the cognizance of the pulpit.
He then advised me to prosecute my undertaking with (25)
cheerfulness, and assured me, that whoever might be displeased
with me, I should be approved by all those
whose praises do honour to the persons on whom they
are bestowed.

The whole club pays a particular deference to the discourse
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 (68: 5)
immediately agreed that what he had said was right,
and that, for his part, he would not insist upon the quarter
which he had demanded for the ladies. Sir Andrew gave
up the city with the same frankness. The Templar would
not stand out, and was followed by Sir Roger and the (10)
Captain,--who all agreed that I should be at liberty to
carry the war into what quarter I pleased, provided I continued
to combat with criminals in a body, and to assault
the vice without hurting the person.

This debate, which was held for the good of mankind, (15)
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 acquaintance and relations, (20)
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 remonstrances (25)
that shall be made to me on this account. If
Punch grows extravagant, I shall reprimand him very
freely. If the stage becomes a nursery of folly and
impertinence, I shall not be afraid to animadvert upon it.
In short, if I meet with anything in city, court, or country,
that shocks modesty or good manners, I shall use my
utmost endeavours to make an example of it. I must,
however, intreat every particular person who does me the
honour to be a reader of this paper, never to think himself, (69: 5)
or any one of his friends or enemies, aimed at in what is
said: for I promise him, never to draw a faulty character
which does not fit at least a thousand people; or to
publish a single paper that is not written in the spirit of
benevolence and with a love to mankind. (10)

V. A LADY'S LIBRARY

[No. 37. Thursday, April 12, 1711. ADDISON.]

Non illa colo calathisve Minervae
Femineas assueta manus....

VIRG.

Some months ago, my friend Sir Roger, being in the
country, enclosed a letter to me, directed to a certain
lady whom I shall here call by the name of Leonora, and
as it contained matters of consequence, desired me to
deliver it to her with my own hand. Accordingly I waited (15)
upon her ladyship pretty early in the morning, and was
desired by her woman to walk into her lady's library, till
such time as she was in a readiness to receive me. The
very sound of "a lady's library" gave me a great curiosity
to see it; and as it was some time before the lady came (20)
to me, I had an opportunity of turning over a great many
of her books, which were ranged together in a very beautiful
order. At the end of the folios, which were finely
bound and gilt, were great jars of china placed one above
another in a very noble piece of architecture. The quartos (70: 5)
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, colours, and
sizes, which were so disposed on a wooden frame that
they looked like one continued pillar indented with the (10)
finest strokes of sculpture and stained with the greatest
variety of dyes.

That part of the library which was designed for the
reception of plays and pamphlets, and other loose papers,
was enclosed in a kind of square, consisting of one of the (15)
prettiest grotesque works that ever I saw, and made up
of scaramouches, lions, monkeys, mandarins, trees, shells,
and a thousand other odd figures in china 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 (20)
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[31] in the muster of a regiment. I was
wonderfully pleased with such a mixed kind of furniture (25)
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.

[31] "A person formerly hired to take the place of another at the
muster of a military company, or to hide deficiency in its number when
it was not full."--_Century Dictionary_.

Upon my looking into the books, I found there were
some few which the lady had bought for her own use;
but that most of them had been got together, either because (71: 5)
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 follow:

Ogilby's _Virgil_.

Dryden's _Juvenal_. (10)

_Cassandra_.

_Cleopatra_.

_Astraea_.

Sir Isaac Newton's Works.

_The Grand Cyrus_, with a pin stuck in one of the (15)
middle leaves.

Pembroke's _Arcadia_.

Locke of _Human Understanding_, with a paper of
patches in it.

A spelling book. (20)

A dictionary for the explanation of hard words.

Sherlock upon _Death_.

_The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony_.

Sir William Temple's _Essays_.

Father Malebranche's _Search after Truth_, translated (25)
into English.

A book of novels.

_The Academy of Compliments_.

Culpepper's _Midwifery_.

_The Ladies' Calling_.

_Tales in Verse_, by Mr. D'Urfey; bound in red leather,
gilt on the back, and doubled down in several places.

All the classic authors in wood.

A set of Elzevirs by the same hand. (72: 5)

_Clelia_, which opened of itself in the place that describes
two lovers in a bower.

Baker's _Chronicle_.

_Advice to a Daughter_.

_The New Atalantis_, with a key to it. (10)

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. (15)

Seneca's _Morals_.

Taylor's _Holy Living and Dying_.

La Ferte's _Instructions for Country Dances_.

I was taking a catalogue in my pocket-book of these
and several other authors, when Leonora entered, and (20)
upon my presenting her with the letter from the knight,
told me, with an unspeakable grace, that she hoped Sir
Roger was in good health. I answered, "Yes," for I
hate long speeches, and after a bow or two retired.

Leonora was formerly a celebrated beauty, and is still (25)
a very lovely woman. She has been a widow for two or
three years, and being unfortunate in her first marriage,
has taken a resolution never to venture upon a second.
She has no children to take care of, and leaves the management
of her estate to my good friend Sir Roger. But
as the mind naturally sinks into a kind of lethargy, and
falls asleep, that[32] is not agitated by some favourite pleasures
and pursuits, Leonora has turned all the passions of
her sex into a love of books and retirement. She converses (73:5)
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.

[32] Rearrange this sentence.

As her reading has lain very much among romances, (10)
it has given her a very particular turn of thinking, and
discovers itself even in her house, her gardens, and her
furniture. Sir Roger has entertained me an hour together
with a description of her country seat, which is situated
in a kind of wilderness, about an hundred miles distant (15)
from London, and looks like a little enchanted palace.
The rocks about her are shaped into artificial grottoes
covered with woodbines and jessamines. The woods are
cut into shady walks, twisted into bowers, and filled with
cages of turtles.[33] The springs are made to run among pebbles, (20)
and by that means taught to murmur very agreeably.
They are likewise collected into a beautiful lake that is
inhabited by a couple of swans, and empties itself by a
little rivulet which runs through a green meadow, and is
known in the family by the name of the Purling Stream. (25)

[33] Turtle doves.

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 which is killed
in her ground will spoil a consort,[34] and that she shall
certainly miss him the next year."

[34] Concert.

When I think how oddly this lady is improved by (74: 5)
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 (10)
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
tendency to enlighten the understanding and rectify the
passions, as well as to those which are of little more use (15)
than to divert the imagination.

But the manner of a lady's employing herself 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 (20)
subject of a very nice nature, I shall desire my correspondents
to give me their thoughts upon it. C.

VI. COVERLEY HALL

[No. 106. Monday, July 2, 1711. ADDISON.]

Hinc tibi copia
Manabit ad plenum benigno
Ruris honorum opulenta cornu.

HOR.

Having often received an invitation from my friend
Sir Roger de Coverley to pass away a month with him in
the country, I last week accompanied him thither, and
am settled with him for some time at his country house,
where I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. (75: 5)
Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my
humor, lets me rise and go to bed when I please, dine at
his own table or in my chamber, as I think fit, sit still
and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When
the gentlemen of the country come to see him, he only (10)
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.

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The Sir Roger de Coverley PapersChapter VI: Part II: | Indulgence (1)

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