Chapter VIII: Part II: | Indulgence (3)

"However, I must needs say this accomplished mistress
of mine has distinguished me above the rest, and (25)
has been known to declare Sir Roger de Coverley was the
tamest and most human of all the brutes in the country.
I was told she said so by one who thought he rallied me;
but, upon the strength of this slender encouragement of
being thought least detestable, I made new liveries, new-paired
my coach-horses, sent them all to town to be bitted
and taught to throw their legs well and move altogether,
before I pretended to cross the country and wait upon
her. As soon as I thought my retinue suitable to the (108: 5)
character of my fortune and youth, I set out from hence
to make my addresses. The particular skill of this lady
has ever been to inflame your wishes and yet command
respect. To make her mistress of this art, she has a
greater share of knowledge, wit, and good sense than is (10)
usual even among men of merit. Then she is beautiful
beyond the race of women. If you won't let her go on
with a certain artifice with her eyes, and the skill of
beauty, she will arm herself with her real charms, and
strike you with admiration instead of desire. It is certain (15)
that, if you were to behold the whole woman, there
is that dignity in her aspect, 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 (20)
gentleman can approach her without being a jest. As I
was going to tell you, when I came to her house I was
admitted to her presence with great civility; at the same
time she placed herself to be first seen by me in such an
attitude, as I think you call the posture of a picture, that (25)
she discovered new charms, and I at last came towards
her with such an awe as made me speechless. This she
no sooner observed but she made her advantage of it,
and began a discourse to me concerning love and honour,
as they both are followed by pretenders, and the real
votaries to them. When she had discussed these points
in a discourse which I verily believe was as learned as
the best philosopher in Europe could possibly make, she
asked me whether she was so happy as to fall in with my (109: 5)
sentiments on these important particulars. Her confidante
sat by her, and upon my being 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 deliver all his sentiments (10)
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 (15)
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 (20)
posing[67] 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 (25)
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 (110: 5)
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, (10)
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 (15)
inimitable to all women as she is inaccessible to all men."

[67] The word seems not to be used with precision here. To pose is to
silence or nonplus one by puzzling or unanswerable questions; it was
the sphinx that posed all comers with her famous riddle till Œdipus
answered it.

I found my friend begin to rave, and insensibly led
him towards the house, that we might be joined by some
other company; and am convinced that the widow is
the secret cause of all that inconsistency which appears (20)
in some parts of my friend's discourse. Though he has
so much command of himself as not directly to mention
her, yet, according to that of Martial, which one knows
not how to render in English, "_Dum tacet hanc loquitur_."
I shall end this paper with that whole epigram, which (25)
represents with much humor my honest friend's condition.

"Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est nisi Naevia Rufo;
Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur:
Caenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit,--una est
Naevia; si non sit Naevia, mutus erit.
Scriberet hesterna patri cum luce salutem,
Naevia lux, inquit, 'Naevia lumen, ave.'

"Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk,
Still he can nothing but of Naevia talk; (111: 5)
Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute,
Still he must speak of Naevia or be mute;
He writ to his father, ending with this line,--
'I am, my lovely Naevia, ever thine.'" R.

XIII. HOW TO BEAR POVERTY

[No. 114. Wednesday, July 11, 1711. STEELE.]

Paupertatis pudor et fuga.

HOR.

Economy in our affairs has the same effect upon our (10)
fortunes which good breeding has upon our conversations.
There is a pretending behaviour in both cases, which,
instead of making men esteemed, renders them both
miserable and contemptible. We had yesterday at Sir
Roger's, a set of country gentlemen who dined with him; (15)
and after dinner, the glass was taken by those who pleased
pretty plentifully. Among others, I observed a person of
a tolerable good aspect, who seemed to be more greedy
of liquor than any of the company; and yet, methought,
he did not taste it with delight. As he grew warm, he (20)
was suspicious of everything that was said; and as he
advanced towards being fuddled, his humour grew worse.
At the same time, his bitterness seemed to be rather an
inward dissatisfaction in his own mind than any dislike
he had taken to the company. Upon hearing his name,
I knew him to be a gentleman of a considerable fortune (112: 5)
in this county, but greatly in debt. What gives the unhappy
man this peevishness of spirit is, that his estate is
dipped,[68] and is eating out with usury;[69] and yet he has
not the heart to sell any part of it. His proud stomach,[70]
at the cost of restless nights, constant inquietudes, danger (10)
of affronts, and a thousand nameless inconveniences, preserves
this canker in his fortune, rather than it shall be
said he is a man of fewer hundreds a year than he has
been commonly reputed. Thus he endures the torment
of poverty, to avoid the name of being less rich. If you (15)
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
carelessness in the air of everything, and the whole appears
but a covered indigence, a magnificent poverty. (20)
That neatness 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.

[68] Mortgaged.

[69] Interest, not necessarily illegal interest.

[70] Disposition, spirit; not frequently used in this sense, as here,
with the adjective "proud."

This gentleman's conduct, though a very common way
of management, is as ridiculous as that officer's would be (25)
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,[71] and keep in a man's
hands a greater estate than he really has, is of all others[2]
the most unpardonable vanity, and must in the end reduce (113: 5)
the man who is guilty of it to dishonour. 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
appearing what they really are,--when the contrary behavior (10)
would in a short time advance them to the condition
which they pretend to.

[71] Represent, keep up the appearance of owning.

Laertes has fifteen hundred pounds a year, which is
mortgaged for six thousand pounds; but it is impossible
to convince him that if he sold as much as would pay off (15)
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. (20)
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 neighbours, whose way of living (25)
are[72] 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 entertainments; (114: 5)
fear of poverty makes Irus allow himself only
plain necessaries, appear without a servant, sell his own
corn, attend his labourers, and be himself a labourer.
Shame of poverty makes Laertes go every day a step
nearer to it, and fear of poverty stirs up Irus to make (10)
every day some further progress from it.

[72] Correct the English.

These different motives produce the excesses which
men are guilty of in the negligence of and provision for
themselves. Usury, stock-jobbing, extortion, and oppression
have their seed in the dread of want; and vanity, (15)
riot, and prodigality, from the shame of it: but both these
excesses 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 (20)
a vice no less extravagant[73] than the neglect of necessaries
would have been before.

[73] In what sense here used?

Certain it is that they are both out of[74] nature when she
is followed with reason and good sense. It is from this
reflection that I always read Mr. Cowley with the greatest (25)
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,[75] and (115: 5)
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.

[74] At variance with.

[75] Can you so paraphrase this sentence as to bring any clear meaning
out of it?

It would, methinks, be no ill maxim of life, if, (10)
according to that ancestor of Sir Roger whom I lately
mentioned, every man would point to himself what
sum he would resolve not to exceed. He might by
this means cheat himself into a tranquillity on this
side of that expectation, or convert what he should (15)
get above it to nobler uses than his own pleasures or
necessities.

This temper of mind would exempt a man from an
ignorant envy of restless men above him, and a more
inexcusable contempt of happy men below him. This (20)
would be sailing by some compass, living with some
design; but to be eternally bewildered in prospects of
future gain, and putting on unnecessary armour against
improbable blows of fortune, is a mechanic being,[76] which
has not good sense for its direction, but is carried on by (25)
a sort of acquired instinct towards things below our consideration
and unworthy our esteem.

[76] Steele's careless English again; recast the sentence so as to
express his meaning more correctly.

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[77] of the (116: 5)
world; but, as I am now in a pleasing arbour, surrounded
with a beautiful landscape, I find no inclination so strong
as to continue in these mansions, so remote from the
ostentatious scenes of life; and am, at this present writing,
philosopher enough to conclude, with Mr. Cowley,-- (10)

[77] So different from the common taste.

"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.

XIV. LABOUR AND EXERCISE

[No. 115. Thursday, July 12, 1711. ADDISON.]

Ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.

JUV.

Bodily labour is of two kinds: either that which a man (15)
submits to for his livelihood, or that which he undergoes
for his pleasure. The latter of them generally changes
the name of labour for that of exercise, but differs only
from ordinary labour as it rises from another motive.

A country life abounds in both these kinds of labour,
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, (117: 5)
a bundle of pipes and strainers, fitted to one another after
so wonderful a manner as to make a proper engine for
the soul to work with. This description does not only
comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, nerves,
and arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, which (10)
is a composition of fibres 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 (15)
necessary labour 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 (20)
lasting tone. Labour or exercise ferments the humours,
casts them into their proper channels, throws off redundancies,
and helps nature in those secret distributions
without which the body cannot subsist in its vigour, nor
the soul act with cheerfulness. (25)

I might here mention the effects which this has upon
all the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understanding
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 particular
that we must ascribe the spleen which is so frequent in
men of studious and sedentary tempers, as well as the vapours
to which those of the other sex are so often subject. (118: 5)

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
compressions, extensions, contortions, dilatations, and all (10)
other kinds of motions that are necessary for the preservation
of such a system of tubes and glands as has been
before mentioned. And that we might not want inducements
to engage us in such an exercise of the body as is
proper for its welfare, it is so ordered that nothing valuable (15)
can be procured without it. Not to mention riches
and honour, 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 laboured (20)
before 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 (25)
obliged to labour, by the condition in which they are
born, they are more miserable than the rest of mankind
unless they indulge themselves in that voluntary labour
which goes by the name of exercise.

My friend Sir Roger has been an indefatigable man in
business of this kind, and has hung several parts of his
house with the trophies of his former labours. 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 (119: 5)
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 (10)
looks upon it with great satisfaction, because it seems he
was but nine years old when his dog killed him.[78] A little
room adjoining 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 (15)
many thousands of pheasants, partridges, and woodcocks.
His stable doors are patched with noses that belonged
to foxes of the knight's own hunting down. Sir Roger
showed me one of them, that for distinction sake has a
brass nail struck through it, which cost him about fifteen (20)
hours' riding, carried him through half a dozen counties,
killed him a brace of geldings, and lost above half his
dogs. This the knight looks upon as one of the greatest
exploits of his life. The perverse widow, whom I have
given some account of, was the death of several foxes; (25)
for Sir Roger has told me that in the course of his amours
he patched the western door of his stable. Whenever
the widow was cruel, the foxes were sure to pay for it.
In proportion as his passion for the widow 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.

[78] The otter or Sir Roger? Recast the sentence.

There is no kind of exercise which I would so recommend
to my readers of both sexes as this of riding, as (120: 5)
there is none which so much conduces to health, and is
every way accommodated to the body, according to the
idea which I have given of it. Dr. Sydenham is very
lavish in its praises; and if the English reader will see
the mechanical effects of it described at length, he may (10)
find them in a book published not many years since,
under the title of the _Medicina Gymnastica_.

For my own part, when 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 corner of my room, (15)
and pleases me the more because it does everything I
require of it in the most profound silence. My landlady
and her daughters are so well acquainted with my hours
of exercise, that they never come into my room to disturb
me whilst I am ringing. (20)

When I was some years younger than I am at present,
I used to employ myself in a more laborious diversion,
which I learned from a Latin treatise of exercises that
is written with great erudition. It is there called the
[Greek: skiomachia], or the fighting with a man's own shadow, and (25)
consists in the brandishing of two short sticks grasped in
each hand, and loaden with plugs of lead at either end.
This opens the chest, exercises the limbs, and gives a man
all the pleasure of boxing, without the blows. I could
wish that several learned men would lay out that time
which they employ in controversies and disputes about
nothing, in this method of fighting with their own shadows.
It might conduce very much to evaporate the spleen,
which makes them uneasy[79] to the public as well as to (121: 5)
themselves.

[79] Disagreeable.

To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I
consider myself as obliged to a double scheme of duties,
and think I have not fulfilled the business of the day
when I do not thus employ the one in labour and exercise, (10)
as well as the other in study and contemplation. L.

XV. SIR ROGER GOES A-HUNTING

[No. 116. Friday, July 13, 1711. BUDGELL.]

----Vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron,
Taygetique canes.

VIRG.

Those who have searched into human nature observe
that nothing so much shows the nobleness of the soul as
that its felicity consists in action. Every man has such
an active principle in him that he will find out something (15)
to employ himself upon, in whatever place or state of life
he is posted. I have heard of a gentleman who was under
close confinement in the Bastile seven years; during
which time he amused himself in scattering a few small
pins about his chamber, gathering them up again, and
placing them in different figures on the arm of a great
chair. He often told his friends afterwards, that unless
he had found out this piece of exercise, he verily believed (122: 5)
he should have lost his senses.

After what has been said, I need not inform my readers
that Sir Roger, with whose character I hope they are at
present pretty well acquainted, has in his youth gone
through the whole course of those rural diversions which (10)
the country abounds in, and which seem to be extremely
well suited to that laborious industry a man may observe
here in a far greater degree than in towns and cities. I
have before hinted at some of my friend's exploits: he
has in his youthful days taken forty coveys of partridges (15)
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 neighbourhood always attended him on account
of his remarkable enmity towards foxes, having[80] destroyed
more of those vermin in one year than it was thought the (20)
whole country could have produced. Indeed, the knight
does not scruple to own, among his most intimate friends,
that in order to establish his reputation this way, he has
secretly sent for great numbers of them[81] out of other
counties, which he used to turn loose about the country (25)
by night, that he might the better signalize himself in their
destruction the next day. His hunting horses were the
finest and best managed in all these parts: his tenants
are still full of the praises of a gray stone-horse[82] that
unhappily staked himself[83] several years since, and was
buried with great solemnity in the orchard.

[80] Correct the English.

[81] Friends or foxes? Correct the sentence.

[82] Stallion.

[83] Killed by impaling himself on a fence which he was trying to leap.

Sir Roger, being at present too old for fox-hunting, to (123: 5)
keep himself in action has disposed of his beagles and
got a pack of stop-hounds.[84] What these want in speed
he endeavours 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 (10)
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 desired him
to tell his master that the dog he had sent was indeed a (15)
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_: (20)

[84] Hounds trained to stop at a word--as they are said to have done in
the following paragraph.

"My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd,[85] so sanded,[86] and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew:
Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd[87] like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouths,[88] like bells,
Each under each.[89] A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn."

[85] Flews are the chaps or overhanging upper lips of a dog.

[86] Of such a sandy colour.

[87] The dew-laps are the folds of skin hanging under the neck in some
animals, especially cattle.

[88] Incorrectly quoted for "mouth," meaning bark or voice.

[89] _I.e_. at proper musical intervals, like a chime of bells.

Sir Roger is so keen at this sport that he has been out (124: 5)
almost every day since I came down; and upon the chaplain'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 neighbourhood towards (10)
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 (15)
upon a large heath, and the sportsmen began to beat.[90]
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 feet.
I marked the way she took, which I endeavoured to make (20)
the company sensible of by extending my arm; but to
no purpose, till Sir Roger, 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
answering, "Yes," he immediately called in the dogs and
put them upon the scent. As they were going off, I heard
one of the country fellows muttering to his companion
that 'twas a wonder they had not lost all their sport, for (125: 5)
want of the silent gentleman's crying "Stole away!"

[90] _I.e_. to beat the bushes or undergrowth in order to rouse any
game hidden there.

This,[91] with my aversion to leaping hedges, made me
withdraw to a rising ground, from whence I could have
the pleasure of the whole chase, without the fatigue of
keeping in with the hounds. The hare immediately threw (10)
them above a mile behind her; but I was pleased to find
that instead of running straight forwards, or, in hunter's
language, "flying the country," as I was afraid she might
have done, she wheeled about, and described a sort of
circle round the hill where I had taken my station, in (15)
such manner as gave me a very distinct view of the sport.
I could see her first pass by, and the dogs some time
afterwards unravelling the whole track she had made, and
following her through all her doubles. I was at the same
time delighted in observing that deference which the rest (20)
of the pack paid to each particular hound, according to
the character he had acquired amongst them: if they
were at fault, and an old hound of reputation opened[92] but
once, he was immediately followed by the whole cry;
while a raw dog, or one who was a noted liar, might have (25)
yelped his heart out without being taken notice of.

[91] What?

[92] Bayed.

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, (126: 5)
and told me that he was sure the chase was almost at an
end, because the old dogs, which had hitherto lain behind,
now headed the pack. The fellow was in the right. Our
hare took a large field just under us, followed by the full
cry "in view." I must confess the brightness of the (10)
weather, the cheerfulness of everything around me, the
chiding of the hounds, which was returned upon us in a
double echo from two neighbouring hills, with the hollowing
of the sportsmen, and the sounding of the horn, lifted
my spirits into a most lively pleasure, which I freely indulged (15)
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 the
reach of her enemies; when the huntsman, getting forward,
threw down his pole before the dogs. They were (20)
now within eight yards of that game which they had been
pursuing for almost as many hours; yet on the signal
before mentioned, they all made a sudden stand, and
though they continued opening as much as before, durst
not once attempt to pass beyond the pole. At the same (25)
time Sir Roger rode forward, and, alighting, took up the
hare in his arms, which he soon after delivered up to one
of his servants with an order, if she could be kept alive, to
let her go in his great orchard, where it seems he has
several of these prisoners of war, who live together in a
very comfortable captivity. I was highly pleased to see
the discipline of the pack, and the good-nature of the
knight, who could not find in his heart to murder a
creature that had given him so much diversion. (127: 5)

As we were returning home I remembered that Monsieur
Pascal, in his most excellent discourse on the
_Misery of Man_, tells us that all our endeavours after
greatness proceed from nothing but a desire of being surrounded
by a multitude of persons and affairs that may (10)
hinder us from looking into ourselves, which is a view we
cannot bear. He afterwards goes on to show that our
love of sports comes from the same reason, and is particularly
severe upon hunting. "What," says he, "unless
it be to drown thought, can make men throw away so (15)
much time and pains upon a silly animal, which they
might buy cheaper in the market?" The foregoing
reflection is certainly just when a man suffers his whole
mind to be drawn into his sports, and altogether loses
himself in the woods; but does not affect those who propose (20)
a far more laudable end from this exercise,--I
mean, the preservation of health, and keeping all the
organs of the soul in a condition to execute her orders.
Had that incomparable person, whom I last quoted, been
a little more indulgent to himself in this point, the world (25)
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 behaviour
of a noble soul struggling under innumerable pains and
distempers.

For my own part, I intend to hunt twice a week during (128: 5)
my stay with Sir Roger; and shall prescribe the moderate
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 (10)
of Mr. Dryden:

"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; (15)
But we their sons, a pamper'd race of men,
Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten.
Better to hunt in fields for health unbought
Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.
The wise for cure on exercise depend: (20)
God never made his work for man to mend."
X.

XVI. THE COVERLEY WITCH

[No. 117. Saturday, July 14, 1711. ADDISON.]

Ipsi sibi somnia fingunt.

VIRG.

There are some opinions in which a man should stand
neuter,[93] without engaging his assent to one side or the
other. Such a hovering faith as this, which refuses to
settle upon any determination, is absolutely necessary in
a mind that is careful to avoid errors and prepossessions. (129: 5)
When the arguments press equally on both sides, in matters
that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give
up ourselves to neither.

[93] Neutral.

It is with this temper of mind that I consider the subject
of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that are (10)
made from all parts of the world,--not only from Norway
and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but
from every particular nation in Europe,--I cannot forbear
thinking that there is such an intercourse and commerce
with evil spirits as that which we express by the (15)
name of witchcraft. But when I consider that the ignorant
and credulous 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 endeavour to suspend my belief till
I hear more certain accounts than any which have yet (130: 5)
come to my knowledge. In short, when I consider the
question whether there are such persons in the world as
those we call witches, my mind is divided between the
two opposite opinions; or rather, to speak my thoughts
freely, I believe in general that there is, and has been, (10)
such a thing as witchcraft; but at the same time can
give no credit to any particular instance of it.

I am engaged in this speculation by some occurrences
that I met with yesterday, which I shall give my reader
an account of at large. As I was walking with my friend (15)
Sir Roger by the side of one of his woods, an old woman
applied herself to me for my charity. Her dress and
figure put me in mind of the following description in
Otway:

"In a close lane as I pursued my journey, (20)
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself.
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red;
Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd wither'd;
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd (25)
The tatter'd remnants of an old striped hanging,
Which served to keep her carcase from the cold:
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds[94] were all o'er coarsely patch'd
With diff'rent colour'd rags--black, red, white, yellow--
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness."

[94] Garments.

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 (131: 5)
the country, that her lips were observed to be always in
motion, and that there was not a switch about her house
which her neighbours 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 (10)
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 backwards.
There was not a maid in the parish that would
take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag of money (15)
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 churn. If a horse (20)
sweats 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,
"I have known the master of the pack, upon such an
occasion, send one of his servants to see if Moll White (25)
had been out that morning."

This account raised my curiosity so far that I begged
my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel, which
stood in a solitary corner under the side of the wood.
Upon our first entering, Sir Roger winked to me, and
pointed at something that stood behind the door, which,
upon looking that way, I found to be an old broomstaff.
At the same time, he whispered me in the ear to take
notice of a tabby cat that sat in the chimney-corner, (132: 5)
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 (10)
ordinary cat.

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 Roger, who is a
little puzzled about the old woman, advising her, as a (15)
justice of peace, to avoid all communication with the
devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbours' cattle.
We concluded our visit with a bounty, which was very
acceptable.

In our return home, Sir Roger told me that old Moll (20)
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
trying experiments with her every day, if it was not for
him and his chaplain. (25)

I have since found, upon inquiry, that Sir Roger was
several times staggered with the reports that had been
brought him concerning this old woman, and would frequently
have bound her over to the county sessions had
not his chaplain with much ado persuaded him to the
contrary.

I have been the more particular in this account because
I hear there is scarce a village in England that has not
a Moll White in it. When an old woman begins to dote, (133: 5)
and grow chargeable to a parish, she is generally turned
into a witch, and fills the whole country with extravagant
fancies, imaginary distempers, and terrifying dreams. In
the mean time the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion
of so many evils begins to be frighted at herself, and (10)
sometimes confesses secret commerce and familiarities
that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. This
frequently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of
compassion, and inspires people with a malevolence
towards those poor, decrepit parts of our species in (15)
whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage.
L.

XVII. SIR ROGER TALKS OF THE WIDOW

[No. 118. Monday, July 16, 1711. STEELE.]

Haeret lateri lethalis arundo.

VIRG.

This agreeable seat is surrounded with so many pleasing
walks, which are struck out of a wood, in the midst
of which the house stands, that one can hardly ever be
weary of rambling from one labyrinth of delight to another. (20)
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 yet is 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 (134: 5)
I looked up to the heavens, down on the earth, or turned
on the prospects around me, still struck with new sense of
pleasure; when I found, by the voice of my friend, who
walked by me, that we had insensibly strolled into the
grove sacred to the widow. (10)

"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 (15)
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 (20)
an object must be excused if the ordinary occurrences
in conversation are below his attention. I call her indeed
perverse; but, alas! why do I call her so? Because her
superior merit is such that I cannot approach her without
awe, that my heart is checked by too much esteem; I am (25)
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. (135: 5)

"Of all persons under the sun," continued he, calling
me by name, "be sure to set a mark upon confidantes;
they are of all people the most impertinent. What is most
pleasant[95] to observe in them is that they assume to themselves
the merit of the persons whom they have in their (10)
custody. Orestilla is a great fortune, and in wonderful
danger of surprises; therefore full of suspicions of the least
indifferent thing, particularly careful of new acquaintance,
and of growing too familiar with the old. Themista, her
favourite woman, is every whit as careful of whom she (15)
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 suspicious behaviour
of her friend and patroness. Thus it is that very many
of our unmarried women of distinction are to all intents (20)
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.[96] You do (25)
not see one heiress in a hundred whose fate does not
turn upon this circumstance of choosing a confidante.
Thus it is that the lady is addressed to,[97] presented,[98] and
flattered, only by proxy, in her woman. In my case, how
is it possible that--"

[95] Amusing.

[96] Improve the arrangement of clauses here.

[97] Addressed, courted.

[98] Given presents.

Sir Roger was proceeding in his harangue, when we
heard the voice of one speaking very importunately, and (136: 5)
repeating these words: "What, not one smile?" We followed
the sound till we came to a close thicket, on the
other side of which we saw a young woman sitting as it
were in a personated[99] sullenness just over a transparent
fountain. Opposite to her stood Mr. William, Sir Roger's (10)
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 (15)
water, how willingly could I stand here satisfied for ever,
without troubling my dear Betty herself with any mention
of her unfortunate William, whom she is angry with;
but alas! when she pleases to be gone, thou wilt also
vanish;--yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. (20)
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;
her, herself, her own dear person, I must never embrace (25)
again. Still do you hear me without one smile?--it is
too much to bear." He had no sooner spoke these
words, but he made an offer of throwing himself into the
water; at which his mistress started up, and at the next
instant he jumped across the fountain and met her in an (137: 5)
embrace. She, half recovering from her fright, said in
the most charming voice imaginable, and with a tone of
complaint, "I thought how well you would drown yourself.
No, no, you won't drown yourself till you have
taken your leave of Susan Holliday." The huntsman, (10)
with a tenderness that spoke the most passionate love,
and with his cheek close to hers, whispered the softest
vows of fidelity in her ear, and cried, "Don't, my dear,
believe a word Kate Willow says; she is spiteful and
makes stories, because she loves to hear me talk to herself (15)
for your sake."

[99] Assumed: notice how this meaning comes directly from the etymology
of the word.

"Look you there," quoth Sir Roger, "do you see
there, all mischief comes from confidantes! But let us
not interrupt them; the maid is honest, and the man
dare not be otherwise, for he knows I loved her father; (20)
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 (25)
came near her, and so very vain of her beauty, that she
has valued herself upon her charms till they are ceased.
She therefore now makes it her business to 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 cunning. (138: 5)

"However, when I reflect upon this woman,[100] 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 (10)
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 desirable things are grown into
my temper which I should not have arrived at by better (15)
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 (20)
fall some comical familiarity of speech or odd phrase that
makes the company laugh; however,[101] 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, (25)
and comes into the garden out of books[102] to see them[103] 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. (139: 5)

[100] The widow, not the hussy.

[101] What is the force of this word here?

[102] _I.e_. leaves her books to come into the garden.

[103] What is the antecedent?

XVIII. MANNERS IN THE COUNTRY

[No. 119. Tuesday, July 17, 1711. ADDISON.]

Urbem quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee, putavi
Stultus ego huic nostrae similem----.

VIRG.

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 behaviour and good breeding as they (10)
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[104] obliging deferences, condescensions,
and submissions, with many outward forms and ceremonies (15)
that accompany them, were first of all brought
up among the politer part of mankind, who lived in
courts and cities, and distinguished themselves from the
rustic part of the species--who on all occasions acted
bluntly and naturally--by such a mutual complaisance
and intercourse of civilities. These forms of conversation[105]
by degrees multiplied and grew troublesome; the
modish[106] world found too great a constraint in them, and
have therefore thrown most of them aside. Conversation, (140: 5)
like the Romish religion, was so encumbered 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 (10)
are the height of good breeding. The fashionable
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. (15)

[104] Various.

[105] Social intercourse.

[106] Fashionable.

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,[107] and are[108]
nearer to the first stage of nature than to those refinements (20)
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 breeding.
A polite country squire shall make you as many bows in
half an hour as would serve a courtier for a week. There (25)
is infinitely more to do about place and precedency
in a meeting of justices' wives than in an assembly of
duchesses.