Yi r . ADDISON AND STEELE SELECTIONS FEOM THE TATLER and THE SPECTATOR . EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE BY HERBERT VAUGHAN ABBOTT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, SMITH COLLEGE SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK 1^3 COPYRIGHT 1914 BY SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY AUG 26 1914 Wa. C1,A379253 PREFACE In these selections I have aimed to present as many-sided a view of Steele and Addison as can be comfortably had within the limits of a first impression. In this attempt I have been somewhat hampered by the fact that Steele, being the sanguine and impulsive sort of promoter that he was, often threw his heartiest and most generous sentiments into English so blun- dering that it is likely to be a cause of sore confusion to the reader rather than a source of pleasure and good-will. For this reason it is impossible to do full justice to his protests against snobbery, his sympathy with those who often lack a champion, and his love of courage, fair play, and frankness. The selections from Addison will, I hope, illustrate his diversion over the fashions and foibles of society, his interest in material progress and prosperity, his faith in the reasonableness of the universe, and his taste for the simple, the normal, and the rational. The acute reader may also discern that he v.^as sometimes patient with what he took to be foibles when they were in reality new phases of thought and feeling to which he was obtuse. That the selection may be more repre- sentative, I have included two of Addison's papers from the Freeholder and two from the Guardian. Q PEEFACE They will be found as Chapters IX, X, XXIV, and XXVIII of this volume. The Roger de Coverley Paper's, having been published in another volume of the Lake English Classics, are not reprinted here. My introduction to that edition of the Roger de Coverley Papers, I have ventured to repeat, but with the omission of some paragraphs pertinent only to the earlier book and with the inclusion of others on the opera and early eighteenth century taste. From my former preface, I may quote : ''There is perhaps no humor in literature more likely to appeal to a girl of sensitive tastes than the delicate strokes of Addison; there is certainly no period in English life so likely to appeal to a boy of masculine tastes as the brilliant and intensely human age of Queen Anne. The humor of Addison must be left to disclose itself ; it is never improved by the officiousness of an editor. Much can be done, how- ever, to illustrate and make graphic the age for which and in which Steele and Addison wrote. ... In the Introduction, I have not restricted myself to such a brief account of Queen Anne's time as a boy or a girl might read off-hand at a sitting. On the con- trary, I have attempted to gather historical material from which the teacher may draw as occasion calls in the class room." This material I have supplemented in the glossary at the back of the volume by such notes as could not be easily included in one consistent and coherent piece of historical setting. I would call especial PEEFACE 7 attention to the notes under the following titles: Apprentice, Ballads, Civil War, Gothic, Heroic Poems, London and Westminster, Louis XIV, Mahomet, Men of Sense, Presbyterians, Boyal Society, Sweden, and Unities. Besides explaining literary, geographical, and historical allusions, the Glossary explains words and phrases used in what is now an antiquated sense, calls attention to usages peculiar to the authors or their age, and contains an index of the subjects treated in the Introduction. For further light, students may turn with great advantage to a full copy of the Spectator, the third chapter o| Macaula^^^ffisfor^/ of England, and, if they are procurable', William Connor Sydney's two volumes on England arid the English in the Eighteenth Century. For biographical m^aterial, one will find that Thackeray's English Humorists, Courthorpe's Addison in the "English Men of Letters Series," and Dobson's Steele in the ''English Worthies Series" will furnish all that is needed. In preparing this edition I have made no changes in the authoritative editions I have followed except in modernizing spelling and capitalization and in cutting out a few brief passages which seemed to require omission. Herbert Yaughan Abbott. Northampton, Mas^^husetts, February, 1914. CONTENTS PAGE Preface 5 Introduction 1. The Tatler and the Spectator : 13 2. The Streets of London 13 3. Night in London 15 4. The Beau 15 5. The Woman of rashionV-<"^ 16 6. Fashionable Amusements 17 7. Life at the Theater 18 8. The Polished Critics ' .... 19 9. The Taste of the Upper Gallery .20 10. Classical Taste 21 11. Eules of the Drama 21 '^12. Coffee Houses and Chocolate Houses 22 \13. Special Coffee Houses 23 14. The City 24 15. The Landed Interest 25 *.16. Travel into the Country 26 1.7. The Country Gentleman 27 18. The Country Squire 27 19. The Church . 28 20. The Whigs and the Tories 30 21. The War 32 22. Pamphleteers 33 23. Journalists 34 24. The Spectator Again; 35 25 Joseph Addison 36 26. Addison at the Coffee House 37 27. Prudent Mr. Addison 38 9 10 CONTENTS PAGE 28. His Kindly Spirit 39 29. Dick Steele 40 30. The Details of His Life 40 31. His Frankness of Temper 42 32. His Simplicity of Feeling 43 33. Dobson on Steele 44 34. A Picture of the Age 45 Chronology 45 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE CHAPTER I The story of a Fable .... Addison 49^ II The Eeaders of the Spectator Addison Sly III Lewis the Fourteenth Steele 57>/ IV The Upholsterer Addison 6S^'~ V Coffee House News Addison 69* VI Printing and Paper ..... Addison 74 VII The Adventures of a Shilling . . Addison 79 VIII The Trumpet Club Steele 85 IX Memoirs of a Preston Eebel . . Addison 91 X The Tory Fox Hunter .... Addison 98 XI Men of Fire Steele 105 XII Magnanimity of Mind Steele 109 XIII Horse Play Steele 113 XIV The Honor of the Duelist .... Steele 117 XV In a Home. Circle Steele 121 XVI In Another Home Circle .... Steele 129 XVII Servants Steele 135 XVIII i^A Filial Daughter Steele 140 XIX oxes for the gentlemen. INTEODUCTION 19 tury, describes one siich. affray. ''One evening, in 1720, while the celebrated actress, Mrs. Oldfield, was captivating an audience with ^ her impersonation, of The Scornful Lady, Beau Kobert Fielding . . . insulted a barrister named Fulwood by pushing rudely against him. Fulwood loudly expostulating, the beau clapped his hand upon his sword. Fulwood drew his, and ran it into the body of his antagonist, who walked off exhibiting his bleeding wound to the audience in order to excite the pity of the fair sex. Greatly to his chagrin, the ladies laughed loudly at his misfortune. ' ^ 3. The '^^^ lower gallery held the plain and Polished Substantial citizens, and the pit, the " ^^^ barristers, law students, and young mer- chants of note on the exchange. Well toward the front were the self-appointed critics who were versed in plays and whose judgment, even more than the cat- calls, of the upper gallery, determined the fate of a new venture. These students of the drama admired the good counsel that comes from discretion and ex- perience ; even a comedy they thought pleasanter if it had a lesson in prudent living, tactfully expressed. They prided themselves, too, on the quickness and pro- priety of their judgment. This made them enjoy those neat distinctions, neatly put, that were called wit. Above all, they expected the dramatist to avoid the eccentric and the extraordinary and to furnish an agreeable entertainment for their normal, rational feelings. 20 INTKODUCTION 9. The Taste "^^^ ^^^^^ people of the upper gallery of the Upper had a taste very different from this. aiiery Many of them were full of miraculous legends, repeated by generation to generation since the middle ages and made more absurd and childish with each retelling. Every apprentice probably knew the story of the marvelous London Prentice, who, in a far-away pagan land, won a Mohammedan princess for himself and his religion, and with his own bare hands tore the hearts of wicked, unchristian lions out through their throats. This tale could be bought for a penny or so in a little leaflet, crudely printed and crudely illustrated. So, too, could the stories of other Christian heroes who slaughtered pagans, killed dragons, rescued ladies, and, unlike the London Pren- tice^ cherished lions and converted them to peace and gentleness. From the same earlier, cruder ages there had also come down romantic narratives^ in rough verse, once sung by w^andering minstrels and now faith- fully repeated by grandsires to their households or hawked in cheap copies on the street. So simple, and homely, and genuine were some of the touches of feel- ing in these tales that a few learned people had begun to collect them as curiosities. But no polished writer thought of imitating them. They seemed too clownish. The man of taste preferred the air of good breeding and easy elegance of manner which he could associate with good dress, good form, and an enviable position in society. He was of the same mind as the great 1 For further details, see Ballads in the Glossary. INTEODUCTION 21 French critic Boileau, who about this time was sug- gesting some such advice as this: 'Avoid the ignoble, the language of the market place, of the country, of the street corner. If you are Avriting a pastoral, don 't make your shepherds talk like villagers. Follow the example of Virgil and Theocritus. ... In their learned verses they can show you how to animate two shepherds to a contest on the flute. ' 10. Classical There was probably not a man of taste ^^^*® in all London who did not wish a few apt Latin quotations at his command while he lived and a Latin epitaph on his tombstone after he had died. In his moments of leisure he was apt to turn to the dexterous verse of Horace on the A^^t of Poetry^ or the grave and polished lines of Virgil, as perfect examples of civilized writing. In the same spirit, he turned to Homer, totally unconscious of the fact that the tales in the Iliad and Odyssey were, like the ballads he despised so much, old popular traditions long before they had taken their composite shape under Homer's pen.^ To him, Homer, Virgil, Horace, and the highly artificial authors of the French court of his day were all equally men of taste and all equally set an example of good sense, good form, and good h reeding. 11. Ktiies of Fifty years after the last Spectator was the Drama written, an obscure English writer w^as to say : * ' Every one has some natural bent or pas- 1 For further details, see Heroic Poems, Homer, Virgil, Horace, and Boileau, in the Glossary. 22 INTRODUCTION sion, something peculiar in his genius, which if he does not follow, he will never be able to speak or write with any success." But in the days of Steele and Addison, critics cared not a whit for a ruling bent or passion, except in some tragic hero or co'mic butt. What they prized was deference to established principles or rules. Such rules, attributed to the ancient Aristotle, were constantly on their lips, and the. rigid treatises of modern French critics, Bossu, Dacier, and Hapin, always at their elbow.^ ''If you would know our manner of 12. Coffee , . . , , . „ , Houses and living, writcs a man oi the period, Chocolate ' ' '|^jg ^]^^g . -^q p^gg j^y -j^iyiq and those Souses that frequent great men's levees find en- tertainment at them till eleven, or, as in Holland, go to tea tables ; about twelve the beau monde assembles in coffee or chocolate houses. If it be fine, we take a turn in the Park till two, when we go to dinner." It Avas to these coffee or chocolate houses that a stranger would turn if he wished to find out what the men of London were interested in and thoughtful about. They were the places of rendezvous for the wits, the gallants, the politicians, the poets, the merchants, the essayists of the age. The highwayman who, well-masked, had robbed you the night before as you rode into London might brush against you as you laid your penny of admission down at the bar. The great Dr. Swift, the satirist of the town, might be stalking up and down, grim and silent, between the tables. ]\Iany a poor 1 For further details, see Unities in the Glossary. INTEODUCTION 23 scribbler for the booksellers, who slept all night in a garret, picked out some coffee house as his regular place of address, and made all his appointments and received his few letters there. It was the place to see the latest fashion of the fop, to hear the brilliant conversation of men of letters, and to learn the news of the English armies operating against the French. 13 STJeciai ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ thousand coffee houses in Coffee London at this time, the oldest was the Houses Grecian, the resort of the Learned Club. At Will's, situated over a retail shop near Covent Garden and the theaters, the wits and the poets had congregated for years. The great poet Dryden had gathered all his disciples there ; but one of the editors of the Spectator, Joseph Addison, had set up a new literary circle at Button's, and AVill's was losing some of its old reputation. Card playing, not wit, w^as now its chief attraction. Child's, in St. Paul's churchyard, was frequented by ecclesiastics and other professional men, Jonathan's by stockjobbers, Lloyd 's by the wine merchants and ship brokers, intent on transacting business, Giles's and the Rainbow by French Protestants, exiled from France because of their religion, Garraway's by commercial people, Jenny Mann's coffee house in the Tilt Yard, by *' military and mock-military fellows who manfully pulled the noses of quiet citizens who wore not swords," the Chocolate House, also known as the Cocoa Tree, by the Tories, and St. James by the Whigs. There is a tale of this last coffee house worth quoting 24 INTEODUCTION because it concerns the chief editor of the Spectator, Sir Richard Steele. "Lord Forbes," says the nar- rator, "happened to be in company with . . . two military gentlemen ... in St. James's Coffee House, when two or three well dressed men, all unknown jto his lordship or to his company, came into the room, and in a public, outrageous manner abused Captain Steele as the author of the Tatler. One of them, with great audacity and vehemence, swore that he would cut Steele's throat or teach him better manners. 'In this country,' said Lord Forbes, 'you will find it easier to cut a purse than to cut a throat.' His brother officers joined with his lordship, and turned the cut- throats out with every mark of disgrace." By this time the thoughtful reader will 14. The City _ '^ . ^ i n i begin to wonder where all the money came from to support the life of London. It came from great landed estates in the country on the one hand, and from a rapidly growing commerce on the other. "When I have been upon the 'Change'^" says the Spectator, in one of its issues, "I have often fan- cied one of our old kings standing in person where he is represented in effigy and looking down upon the wealthy concourse of people with which that place is every day filled. In this case how would he be sur- prised to hear all the languages of Europe spoken in this little spot of his former dominions, and to see so many private men, who in his time would have been the vassals of some powerful baron, negotiating like 1 Exchange. INTEODUCTION 25 princes for greater sums of money than were formerly to be met with in the royal treasury. ' ' The commu- nity centering about this enormous mine of wealth was called in distinction from the court and the aristocracy the "city," and its members were known as "citizens." In this region were gathered the great merchants of the realm. Every day they increased in power ; every day they grew prouder of their increas- ing wealth. Their wealth, however, could not save them from the witticisms of the clever fellows about town. Too often, indeed, the witticisms were well deserved. The average merchant was apt to be pom- pous and self-important, and the very fact that he could not get admittance to a lord's levees or a lady's routs^ only made him strut a little more vaingloriously among those he thought his inferiors in fortune or position. 15 The ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ from the "city," however, landed that men of fashion drew their wealth. Interest j^ Came for the most part from the rents of landed estates in the country. This land had descended to them from their fathers, and, however great the debts which they slipped off their shoulders when they too went to their graves, this land would for the most part descend to their eldest sons, who could neither dispose of it nor bequeath it elsewhere. Creditors might make up their losses as best they could ; and younger sons, at least those who could not 1 The term used for fashionable assemblies in the eighteenth century. 26 INTEODUCTION live on the generosity of their elder brothers, were left to their own resources. To these younger sons, only three kinds of employment seemed honorable, — state- craft, fighting in her Majesty's army or navy, and the Church; or, if the estates of the father had been comparatively small, they might without disgrace try law or medicine. Meanwhile, their elder brothers kept up the honor of the family name. 16 Travel Many landlords, however, seldom if ever into the saw the city of London. To know their oun ry manner of life, one must travel into the country districts; and journeying was slow and dan- gerous. Every highway of importance was marked by gibbets, and from many a gibbet hung the corpse of a highwayman. The coaches were without springs, and the roads were almost intolerable. ''On the best lines of communication," says one writer, "ruts were so deep and obstructions so formidable that it was only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the road became available. Seldom could two vehicles pass each other unless one of them stopped." The inns along the route were identified to a passer-by by their grotesque signs, but to the old stager they must have stood out even more distinctly for the oddities of the host or hostess. Few of these worthies probably had ever stepped out of their own county. Many of them probably had never been a half-day's ride from home. A journey made from county to county was like an ocean voyage thirty years ago. The passengers quickly got acquainted. And wherever they stopped INTKODUCTION 27 the men always paid for the women's refreshments as well as their own. 17. The ^^ ^^^ ^^^y after some such journey as coimtry this that one came into the petty terri- en eman tories of the small country gentleman, where, the year round, he lived among his tenants. His house was usually either of plaster striped with timber, or else of red brick with long bow-windows. Unpleasantly close to his house was his stable, and usually the whole space betw^een was little better than a stable-yard. The owner himself was generally a roistering fellow Avho devoted his attention to hunting, cock-fighting, smoking, drinking, and lording it over his neighbors. He could follow the fox or the hare wherever it went, tliough he trampled do^^m the stand- ing grain on his tenants' or his neighbors' estates. If his income were of a certain figure, he might con- fiscate to his own use the guns, nets, and traps which he found in the possession of the man of more ordi- nary m.eans. In his pleasures, the law gave him the privileges of a petty despot. 18. Tiie '^^^ administration of much of the Country county law was left in the hands of the Squire country gentlemen. The humblest office open to them was that of justice of the peace, which brought with it the honorary title of "Squire." In this capacity, they gave marriage certificates, bound disorderly persons over to keep the peace, and in criminal courts, meeting quarterly and known as quarter-sessions, administered the highway, game, and 28 INTEODUCTION poor laws. Twice a year the judges of the superior courts held court sessions — known as assizes — in the various counties of England, and summoned such squires as were "eminent for knowledge and pru- dence" to sit with them. This body of "eminent" squires was known as the quorum. In addition to receiving such honors, the landed gentleman might be elected "Sheriff of the County," an office which gave him the right to appear on state occasions in court dress ; or, if he were a knight, he might be elected to Parliament as "knight (or member) of the shire." Many a squire would have found it impossible to administer even the simple office of justice of the peace had it not been for the clever coaching of his clerk. In almost every case his pretensions to learning were very slight. He had had perhaps a year or so at the University, but even there he had devoted him- self more to roistering than to learning, and when he had returned to his estates he was usually quite willing to settle back into his old ignorance. His knowledge of law was drilled into him by his clerk ; as for a knowledge of literature, he was content to pick up from some book popular in the country regions a few proverbial expressions, with which he flavored his conversation on all occasions. 19. The Besides its rents to the landlords, every Church farm had to pay one-tenth of its yearly produce to the support of the Church. This organiza- tion was a great political institution. Membership in it, like the oath to support the Constitution, was a sign INTEODUCTION 29 of patriotism, not of religious devotion. Parliament not only settled what the rites of the Chnrch should be, but refused political ofP^ce to any one who had not taken the communion according to those rites. ^ The great prizes in the Church occasionally went to men of brilliant talents; quite as often, perhaps, to men who had family influence and a little cleverness of their own to back them; they seldom fell to men of religious earnestness. Many of the clergy spent their time enjoying the pleasures of London, and seldom saw the steeples of their own parish churches. Even of those who lived in their parishes, a large number gave most of their time to farming, hunting, drinking, and gambling. "I found a parson drunk," writes Dean Swift, in one of his letters; ''fighting with a seaman, and Patrick and I were so wise as to part them, but the seaman followed him to Chelsea, cursing at him, and the parson slipped into a house, and so I know no more. It mortified me to see a man in my coat^ so overtaken." The right of appointing a clergyman to any particular church belonged usually to some landed proprietor, who generally exercised it 1 A great many Protestants refused to acknowledge the Church of England as the only true Church, but a number even of these would sometimes take its communion in order to hold some political office. This occasional conformity, as it was called, caused great annoyance to true worshipers. For fur- ther details regarding the religious difficulties of the times see Conventicle, Dissenter, Nonconformist, Presbyterians, and Civil War in the Glossary. - In the garb or livery of my profession. 30 INTRODUCTION to repay a political favor, to push the fortunes of his own relations, or to satisfy his own whims. From the duke to the squire, every landed proprietor had in his employ a domestic chaplain. On small country estates, this poor fellow was treated as a sort of man of all work. ' ' In addition to digging for an hour or two daily in the garden or the orchard, ' ' says a historian of the period, he "was required to bring the hope of the family past the wearisome bitterness of his learning, to check the rent-book and the miller's score, to shoe the horses, to say grace at meals, and to withdraw as soon as the cheese and tarts made their appearance on the table. " "I always keep a chaplain, ' ' wrote one bitter satirist, ' ' to drink my foul wine for me. ' ' 20. The ^^^ through the eighteenth century, whig-s and there were two great political parties in the Tories England, the Tories and the Whigs. The Tory wished all the powers of government to be in the hands of the landed families, which had inherited their wealth and their reputation from a remote past. The three things dear to a Tory 's heart were old times, old families, and great estates. The Whig, on the other hand, cared little for old times; he respected wealth wherever it came from, and wished every prosperous man to have an honorable share in the government. Three quarters of a century before, a quarrel similar to that between the Whigs and the Tories had begun between the Stuart kings of England on the one hand and the House of Commons on the other. They had INTEODUCTION 31 fought against each other through two civil wars.^ Finally the House of Commons had triumphed, and set up sovereigns of their own choosing ; but the Tory always looked back a bit wistfully to the time when the men of the Stuart line were kings by sheer right of birth, and he suspected every Whig of being a republican in disguise. The Whig, on the other hand, was devotedly loyal to his Protestant sovereign, Queen Anne, and believed, with a good- deal of justice, that the Tories were plotting to bring back the old and hated dynasty. The Tory's religious prejudices were affected by the political questions of the time, and he counted every political opponent an enemy of the Church. The Whig was a bigoted Protestant, and suspected his opponents of being Roman Catholics.- Both parties were led by great rival families who handed down their intense jealousies of one another from generation to generation. The most important difference between them, however, was one of self- interest. The country gentry and the clergy were Tories because their interests were wrapped up in the preservation of the landed estates; the great mer- chants were Whigs because their prosperity was dependent on the growing commerce of England. The intensity of party feeling it would be hard to describe. When the Tories came into power, a Tory mob burned Whig chapels and religious meeting-houses; later, 1 For further details, see Civil War in the Glossary. - Severe laws were in force to restrict the political and religious activities of Eoman Catholics. 32 INTEODUCTION courtiers and fine ladies aired their personal and political quarrels before the Queen; and even the editors of the Spectator, hard as they had labored to introduce good nature and kindness into political life, could not escape the spirit of the times. Their long and earnest friendship ended in political differences and personal bitterness. During much of this time, England was 21. Tiie war ^^^^^-^^^ ^ brilliant but protracted wai against France and Spain.^ To fill up her navy ships' crews were kidnapping able-bodied men fron the streets ; to fill up her armies, the recruiting ser- geant was going through the country districts, gather- ing in the criminals from the jails and coaxing hones- men, when drunk, to enlist for a few shillings. Thes* men were led by active young fellows of good famiy who had bought their lieutenancies or captaincies f' some hundreds of pounds ; and over them all was ti. great but dishonest commander, Marlborough. Brh liant as were some of the English victories, most of th( people were growing tired of the war. Taxes wer( heavy, and the corruption among the army officers wa becoming more and more scandalous. From the start it had been a Whig war, for the Whigs had seen tha it was bound to increase the West Indian commerce o England; but the Tories were now in power and ij their eyes the war appeared to be doing little good, i was at this juncture that the greatest of the Englis allies, the Austrian general, Prince Eugene, visite 1 For further details, see Louis XIV in the Glossary. INTEODUCTION 33 England to change, if lie could, tlie current of English feeling. At first it seemed as if he might be success- ful. Even the Tories received him with homage, for they could not forget his military skill and courage, and he never ventured on the streets without being surrounded by eager crowds. With all his courtesy and skill, however, his arguments finally gave offense. Tory society gave him the cold shoulder, and men who made their living by writing Tory pamphlets uttered the sentiments of the English government by abusing him with foul language. 22. Pam- The place of the modern editorial writer phieteers q^i ^ daily paper was taken in old times by these bitter, scurrilous pamphleteers. No degree of personal slander was too coarse for them. Afraid, owever, of the law, or else of a sound cudgeling at le hands of their victim, they tried to cover up their :'ull meaning under an absurd system of stars and dashes. Most of these pamphlets would seem dull to the average reader of today. Any one with a cpiick wit, however, can detect what they must have been like from the following good-humored caricature of them which appears in the pages of the Spectator: ''If there are four Persons in the Nation who en- ieavour to bring all things into Confusion and ruin heir native Country, I think every honest Engl-shm-n ought to be on his guard. That there are such every ane will agree with me, who hears me name * * * vith his first Friend and Favourite * * * not to mention * * * nor * * * These People 34 INTEODUCTION may cry Ch-rch, Ch-rch, as long as they please, but to make use of a homely Proverb, the proof of the P-dd-ng is in the eating. '^ ^ ^ -^ l love to speak out and declare my mind clearly when I am talking for the Good of my Country. I will not make my Court to an ill Man, tho' he were a B y or a T 1. Nay, I would not stick to call so wretched a Politician, a Traitor, an Enemy to his Country, and a Bl-nd-rb-ss, etc., etc." 23. Jour- When the Spectator published its first naiists issue, daily papers were a comparatively new^ thing. The first one ever established in England — The Daily Coiirant — had begun but nine years before, and even then in very primitive fashion. It was fourteen inches long, eight inches wide, and was printed only on one side of the sheet. The reading matter of the first issue consisted of zix short para- graphs translated from the foreign papers. For news, people still depended on the coffee house, on pam- phlets, on queer little tri-weeklies like the Postboy, the Supplement, or the Evening Post, and on what was called the newsletter, a little manuscript journal writ- ten out b}^ the editor with his own pen on a sheet of fine paper and then painfully copied on similar sheets by his clerks. Half even of this sheet was left blank that the purchaser might add to it his own private business before he mailed it to his friends in the country. ''It was our custom at Sir Roger's," says the Spectator, in one of its issues, "upon the coming in of the post to sit about a pot of coffee, and hear the INTEODUCTION 35 old Knight read Dyer's Letter; which he does with his spectacles upon his nose, and in an audible voice — smiling very often at those little strokes of satire which are so frequent in the writings of that author." On account of the heavy restrictions still hampering the freedom of the press, the news of the weeklies was meager, misleading, and always expressed with a great show of mystification ; and even after the editors of the Tatler and the Spectator set a better fashion, the ordinary journalist in England was little better than an irresponsible and mischievous gossip. 24. The ^^ takes the nicest sort of skill to civ- spectator ^ ilize barbarians who already think them- Ag-am selves the most civilized of men; and this is really what the Tatler and the Spectator set out to do. For people whose whole thought had been bent on following the latest affectation in dress, oaths, coquetry, and dueling, they set up simple and wiioie- some ideals of life and made them popular. They commented on the little things of daily life, jested at foibles and follies, and in general made vanity amusing, ostentation ridiculous, and meanness con- temptible. They contained some pleasant raillery for those who thought it religious to wear long faces, and they contained tokens of respect for the clergyman who did his duty in quiet, unostentatious fidelity. They brought different classes of people together, and showed the Whig and the Tory "what a large extent of ground they might occupy in common. ' '^ Wisdom 1 Coiirtliorpe, Addison in the English Men of Letters Series, 36 INTEODUCTION they brougM ' ' out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea tables and coffee houses. ' '^ 25. Joseph The chief contributor to these journals Addison ^^j^^ Joseph Addison, a scholar, poet, and diplomatist, then just in his prime. His early home life might seem too grave and formal to suit the children of today, but when Addison was young, all courtesy had something grave and formal in it, and the circle that gathered under the Addison roof was at heart very simple and natural. His father was Dean of Litchfield, a gentleman who had traveled in France and Tangiers, and had written works highly esteemed in their time ; his two brothers were of ' ' ex- cellent talent," and his sister Dorothy was "a kind of wit, v( ry like her brother. ' ' At fifteen years of age young Addison entered the University of Oxford. By the time he was twenty-one, his reputation as a man of taste and scholarship had reached the men of letters in London, Six years later, on the strength of some conventional verse he had written, he received a pen- sion of £300 a year, that he might fit himself for diplomatic service abroad. He spent a year in France,, traveled into Italy, where, "at every turn, his memory suggested fresh quotations from the whole range of Latin poetry," visited Vienna, and returned to Eng- land in 1703 On his return he was invited to join the famous Kit-Cat Club, composed of the leaders of the great Whig party. A little later, he wrote to ^Spectator, No. 10. INTRODUCTION 37 order a poem to commemorate the victory which the great Whig general, Marlborough, had won at Blenheim. Of this poem, The Campaign, one brief description of Marlborough is still remembered: Calm and serene, he drives the furious blast; And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform^ . Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm. But, as a whole, the poem, though finished and schol- arly, might well be forgotten. It is, in fact, rather a tedious performance. Nevertheless, for this verse he was made Under Secretary of State. In 1705, he tried his hand at the libretto for an opera, with no success. In 1709, he was appointed Secretary to the Lord- Lieutenant of Ireland, where he first began the sort of essays for which the Tatler and the Spectator have made him famous. In 1711, while the Spectator was coming out, he purchased an estate in Warwickshire for £10,000; in 1713, he saw his play of Cato acted before enthusiastic throngs at the theater; in 1716, he married Lady Warwick ; in 1717, he was made a Secretary of State. He retired in 1718, with a pension of £1500, and died one year later, when still only forty-seven years of age. 26 Addison During all these ups and down of polit- at the Coffee ical fortune, he was mingling with men of affairs as well as men of letters, was writing political pamphlets as well as literary essays. With all his pleasure in learning, he lived as much 38 INTEODUCTION among people as among books, and, though in his light and easy style, he touched often, perhaps too often, on the little oddities in feminine fashions, he lived more among men than among women. A man's man, he was seldom to be seen at fashionable assemblies. He was most at home in the coffee house which Button, an old servant of his or Lady Warwick's, had estab- lished in Covent Garden. Here, with his tobacco and his wine, he sat late into the night, his friends and admirers gathered around him. He, if any one, was counted the leader among the great wits and writers of the time. Other men were abler than he, but none of them had the modesty and sweetness of temper, the lightness and delicacy of wit, the graceful simplicity of language which made the quiet Addison, when he was stimulated by his friends or his surroundings, the master of every conversation in which he took part. Even the envious but wonderfully clever Pope acknowledged that Addison "had something more charming in his conversation than I ever knew in any other man," and the bitter, cynical Swift declared that often as they spent their evenings together he never wished for a third person. "If he had a mind to be chosen king, ' ' said that same biting satirist, with an enthusiastic humor quite unlike his usual self, "he Vvould hardly be refused." 27. Prudent There is another side to the picture, how- Mr. Addison ever. Just, kindly, often forbearing in his friendship, he never quite forgot to be prudent when a friend asked help of him. He was more likely INTEODUCTION 39 to give a spendthrift good counsel than to lend him his purse in hearty, open fashion. When it was proposed that he let off an old acquaintance from some official fee, he good-humoredly replied : ^ ' I have forty friends whose fees may be worth two guineas apiece ; I lose eighty guineas and my friends gain but two apiece." He was in truth a bit cold-blooded in his friendships. ' ' I ask no favor of Mr. Secretary Addi- son, ' ' wrote Steele, too proud to solicit from a life-long colleague a kindness w^hich a more generous man than Addison would have proffered off-hand. 28. His ^^et few men in literary life have been Kindly Spirit more considerate ; few men have guarded more calmly and steadily against giving unnecessary pain. There is in his wittiest satires something of the same quietness, something of the same placidity which pervades his familiar evening hymn : Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Eepeats the story of her birth; And all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn. Confirm the tidings as they roll. And spread the truth from pole to pole. "What though, in solemn silence, all Move round this dark, terrestrial ball; "What though no real voice or sound, Among their radiant orbs be found; In reason's ear they all rejoice. And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing as they shine. The hand that made us is divine. 40 INTEODUCTION , 29. Dick When the young Addison went up to the Steele famous Charterhouse school in London to finish his preparation for the university, he met among the pupils there a boy, six weeks his senior, who was destined to become his benefactor, his gallant follower, his colleague, his life-long admirer, and except for a sorry political quarrel at the very close of Addison's life, his life-long friend. At this time young Steele was under the care of an uncle, for his father had died when he was but five years old, and his mother had died soon after. ''I remember," he writes, speaking of his father's death, "I went into the room where his body lay and my mother sat weep- ing alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell a-beating the coffin and calling ' Papa, ' for, I know not how, I had some slight idea he was locked up there. My mother catched me in her arms, and transported beyond all patience of the silent grief she was before in, she almost smothered me in her embrace, and told me in a flood of tears, Papa could not hear me, and would play with me no m^ore, for they were going to put him underground, w^hence he could never come to us again." 30 The Steele followed Addison to the univer- DetaUs of sity, but he was so eager to join in the His Life ^^^^_^ which w^as then waging against France that he could not stay to graduate. In 1694, he enlisted as a private gentleman in the second troop of life-guards. A few years later, he became a captain. His military ambitions had not kept him from trying INTEODUCTIOlSr 41 his pen in a literary venture or so, and by 1700 he was well known to some of the chief wits of the time. In the same year, one or two of his acquaintances having thought fit to misuse him and try their valor upon him, he fought a duel in Hyde Park with a Captain Kelly, whom he wounded dangerously, though not mortally. "This occurrence laid the foundation of that dislike of dueling which he ever after ex- hibited. " Finding his military life exposed to much irregularity, he wrote his treatise on The Christian Hero, to fix upon his own mind a strong impression of virtue and religion. This treatise he afterwards pub- lished "as a standing admonition against himself." He helped purify the, stage by writing clean plays, was for a time the editor of the official newspaper of the court, the Gazette, and on the 12th of April, 1709, laid the foundation of his permanent fame by starting a tri-weekly journal of essays, called the Tatler. To this journal Addison, then in Ireland, was a frequent and welcome contributor. A little later, the paper gave way to a new undertaking of theirs, the Spectator. In 1713, Steele was elected a member of Parliament. "Expelled from the House of Commons by the inso- lent and unmanly sanction of a majority," he was again elected to that body in 1715. In 1718, he lost his wife, who was buried in "Westminster Abbey. From that time on he engaged in theatrical affairs,^ wrote his fourth comedy, risked and lost his money in wildcat 1 Appointed by the king pensioner on the Drury Lane Theater, he proved of invaluable help in the success of the enterprise. 42 INTEODUCTION ventures, and finally withdrew to a small estate in Wales, where he died in 1729/ 31 His '^^^ most characteristic thing about Frankness Steele 's face w^as the ' ' Irish vivacity that of Temper lighted up his eyes. ' ' He was one of the most sanguine of mortals, always active and always confident that his latest venture would make him his fortune. It is said that an alchemist once duped him into believing that he could discover the philosopher's stone which should turn all things into gold. How- ever this may be, so lively were his hopes of winning prosperity that on the strength of them he always ran beyond his income, and was always beset by creditors w^ho somehow did not share his confidence. The cour- age with which he faced the future made him all the franker to acknowledge the shortcomings of his past. There was never any cowardly attempt on his part to bolster up his reputation. When a correspondent took him to task in the Tatler for letting a piece of gross- ness slip into one of his comedies, he accepted the correction, dwelt good-humoredly but soundly on its truth, and corrected the fault in the next edition of the play. His modesty was of a brave, outspokcA sort. He was never tired of acknowledging the debt he owed to Addison for criticizing and correcting his literary work. Any one, he declared of himself, could tell from the quality of his writings when Mr. Addison was at home and when abroad. 1 For the facts of this paragraph and for very inuch of the phrasing, the editor is indebted to Mr. Austin Dobson's life of Steele in the English Worthies Series. ^ INTRODUCTION 43 32 His Steele, however, was high-spirited enough Simplicity to resent injustice even from Addison. of Peeling- -^^^ ^^^ estrangement which separated them during the closing days of Addison's life it is hard to see that Steele was in any sense to blame. Addison had attempted to confute him in a political argument. Not succeeding, perhaps, as well as he had hoped, and no doubt rendered peevish by the fatal illness from which he was suffering, he finally descended into irritating little personalities. At first Steele met t!lem with great good humor. At last, stung by the changed attitude of his old friend, he replied to them with pathetic but dignified reproaches that did credit to his own self-respect as well as to his loyalty toward old memories. In many ways, Steele remained all through his life an overgrow^n boy; he was apt to act first and think afterwards; {le never adapted means to ends; he took his chances that everything would come out right in the long run. But his loyalty and his courage were quickly aroused and he met the tests of friendship and the trials of life not only with sweetness of temper but with resoluteness of heart and dignity of bearing. Any one who would see with what affection, gallantry, dignity, wit, and humor, a very human husband can address a very petulant wife should read the letters^ 1 The following may serve as illustrations : June 5th, 1708. Dear Prue: — ^What you would have me do I know not. All that my fortune will compasse you shall always enjoy, and 44 IIsTEODUCTIOISr which this captain in the Coldstream Guards dashed off on the impulse of the moment to his wife. They are full of a kindly, half -humorous appeal to her }3est self. "I am told," says his old friend Victor in his Original Letters, ''that he retained his cheerful sweet- ness of temper to the last ; and would often be carried out on a summer 's evening, when the country lads and lasses were assembled at their several sports, and, with his pencil, give an order on his agent the mercer for a new gown for the best dancer." 33. Dobson "There have been wiser, stronger, on Steele greater men," says Austin Dobson, "but many a strong man would have been stronger for a touch of Steele's indulgent sympathy; many have no body near you that You do not like except I am myself disapjDroved by You for being devotedly, Y'r Obedient Husband, Eich'd Steele. I shan^t come home till night. June 7th, 1708. Dear Prue:-t— I enclose you a Guiniea for y'r Pocket. I dine with Ld. Hallifax. I wish I knew how to Court you into Good-Humour, for Two or • Three Quarrels more will dispatch Me quite. If you have any Love for Me believe I am always pursuing our Mutual Good. Pray consider that all my little fortune is to be settled this m-onth and that T have inadvertently made myself Liable to Impatient People who take all advantages. If you have not patience I shall transact my businesse rashly and Lose a very great sum tc Quicken the time of yr being ridd of all people you don't like. Yrs Ever, Eich'd Steele. INTEODUCTION 45 a great man has wanted Ms genuine largeness of heart, many a wise man might learn something from his deep and wide humanity." "If Addison," says the same critic, "delights us by his finish, he repels us by his restraint and absence of fervor ; if Steele is careless, he is always frank and genial. Addison's papers are faultless in their art, and in this v/ay achieve an excellence which is beyond the reach of Steele's quicker and more impulsive nature. But for words which the heart finds when the head is seeking ; for phrases glowing with the white-heat of a generous emotion; for sentences which throb and tingle with manly pity or courageous indignation, we must turn to the essays of Steele." 34. A Picture 'i'he sketches in this volume contain but of the Age a small fraction of the literary work of Addison and Steele. The reader who, when he has finished these papers, goes no further in his acquaint- ance with these writers loses many of their picturesque essays. The Tatler and the Spectator have been read from generation to generation for their pleasant humor ; they have been read for their graceful style ; but most of all, perhaps, they have been read for their graphic pictures of a bygone age. "With the exception of Pepy's Diary ^ no English book exists today which tells with the same faithful detail how ancestors of ours have looked and acted. One who has familiarized himself with the Tatler and the Spectator can imag- ine himself at will among our barbarous yet ceremoni- ous ancestors of two hundred odd years ago. CHRONOLOGY 1672 Steele born' (March 12) ; Addison born (May 1) ; William of Orange becomes ruler of Holland. 1684 Steele enters the Charterhouse. 1685 Charles II dies; James II succeeds to the throne; the Duke of Monmouth starts an unsuccessful Protestant rebellion; Louis XIV so oppresses the Protestants of France that many of them flee to England. 1686 Addison enters the Charterhouse. 1687 Addison enters Oxford. 1688 The Revolution which drives James II from the kingdom. 1689 William and Mary crowned; Toleration Act. 1690 Steele enters Oxford. 1692 Battles of La Hogue and Steenkirk. 1694 Steele enters the army; Bank of England organized; Queen Mary dies. 1697 Peace of Ryswick. 1699 Addison begins his foreign travels. 1700 Steele seriously wounds Captain Kelly in a duel; death of the King of Spain. 1701 Steele publishes The Christian Sera; James II dies; war begun over the Spanish succession. 1702 King William dies and Queen Anne is crowned. 1703 Addison concludes his foreign travels. 1704 Battle of Blenheim. 1705 Steele marries. 1706 Addison appointed an under secretary; Steele's first wife dies; Battle of Eamillies. 1707 Steele marries Mistress Mary Scurlock; Battle of Al- manza. 1708 Addison becomes Chief Secretary for Ireland. 1 The dates in Steele's life are often only surmises. 46 CHRONOLOGY 47 1709 Steele starts the Tatler and Addison becomes a con- tributor ; King of Sweden encamps near the borders of Eussia and Turkey. 1710 Whigs go out of office and Tories take office; a lottery is conducted for the government. 1711 Tatler discontinued; Spectator begun. Addison buys a large estate in Warwickshire. 1712 The Spectator discontinued. 1713 Guardian begun; Steele resigns his office under the government and attacks the party in power; he is elected a member of Parliament. 1714 Steele is attacked in a pamphlet by Swift and expelled from the House of Commons for ' ' uttering a seditious libel;" Queen Anne dies and George I succeeds her; in consequence Steele is soon appointed to several lucrative offices. 1715 Steele reelected to Parliament; death of Louis XIV; a rebellion begun in favor of the Stuarts; arrest of some members of Parliament for treason; the Free- holder begun, to support George I. 1716 Addison marries Lady Warwick; the rebellion fails. 1717 Addison made a Secretary of State. 1718 Addison retires with a pension; Steele loses his second wife. 1719 Addison and Steele quarrel; June 17, Addison dies. 1722 Steele writes his best known play, The Conscious Lovers. 1724 Steele retires to Wales. 1729 September 1, Steele dies. . ^^} /a. ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE THE STOET OF A FABLE [From the Spectator, No. 512. — Addison. Friday, October 17, 1712.] If we look into ancient histories, we find the wise men of old very often chose to give counsel to their kings in fables. To omit many which will occur to everyone's memory, there is a pretty instance of this 5 nature in a Turkish tale, which I do not like the worse for that little oriental extravagance which is mixed with it. We are told that the Sultan Mahmoud, by his per- petual wars abroad and his tyranny at home, had 10 filled his dominions with ruin and desolation, and half -unpeopled the Persian Empire. The vizier to this great sultan (whether an humorist or an enthusi- ast we are not informed) pretended to have learned of a certain dervish to understand the language of 15 birds, so that there was not a bird that could open his mouth but the vizier knew what it was he said. As he was one evening with the emperor, in their return from hunting, they saw a couple of owls upon 49 50 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE a tree that grew near an old wall out of an heap of rubbish. ''I would fain know," says the sultan, ''what those two owls are saying to one another; listen to their discourse and give me an account of it. ' ' The vizier approached the tree, pretending to be very 5 attentive to the two owls. Upon his return to the sultan, "Sir," says he, ''I have heard part of their conversation, but dare not tell you what it is." The sultan would not be satisfied with such an answer, but forced him to repeat word for word everything 10 the owls had said. ''You must know, then," said the vizier, ''that one of these owls has a son, and the other a daughter, between whom they are now upon a treaty of marriage. The father of the son said to the father of the daughter in my hearing, * Brother, I consent toiE this marriage, provided you will settle upon your daughter fifty ruined villages for her portion.' To which the father of the daughter replied, *^ Instead of fifty I will give her five hundred, if you please. God grant a long life to Sultan Mahmoud ! whilst he reigns 2c over us we shall never want ruined villages.' " The story says the sultan was so touched with the fable that he rebuilt the towns and villages which had been destroyed, and from that time forward consulted the good of his people. ^' II THE EEADEES OF THE SPECTATOR * [The Spectator, No. 10. — Addison. Monday, March 12, 1710-ll.J Non aliter quam qui adverse vix flumine lembum Eemigiis subigit, si bracchia forte remisit, Atque ilium praeceps prono rapit alveus amni.i — Virgil. It is with much satisfaction that I hear this great city inquiring day by day after these my papers, and receiving my morning lectures with a becoming serious- ness and attention. My publisher tells me that there 5 are already three thousand of them distributed every day : so that if I allow twenty readers to every paper, which I look upon as a modest computation, I may reckon about threescore thousand disciples in London and Westminster, w^ho, I hope, will take care to distin- loguish themselves from the thoughtless herd of their ignorant and unattentive brethren. Since I have raised to myself so great an audience, I shall spare no pains to make their instruction agreeable, and their 1 ' * . . . Like a boatman who just manages to make head against the stream, if the tension of his arms happens to relax, and the current whirls away the boat headlong down the river 's bed. ' ' — John Conington, 51 I 52 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE ^ diversion useful. For which reasons I shall endeavor to enliven morality with wit, and to temper wit with morality, that my readers may, if possible, both ways^ find their account in the speculation of the day. And to the end that their virtue and discretion may not be 5 short, transient, intermittent starts of thought, I have resolved to refresh their memories from day to day, till I have recovered them out of that desperate state of vice and folly into which the age is fallen. The mind that lies fallow but a single day sprouts up inio follies that are only to be killed by a constant and assiduous culture. It was said of Socrates that he brought philosophy down from heaven to inhabit among men ; and I shall be ambitious to have it said of me that I have brought philosophy out of closets 15 and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea tables and in coffee houses. I would, therefore, in a very particular manner recommend these my speculations to all well-regulated families that set apart an hour in every morning for 20 tea and bread and butter, and would earnestly advise them for their good to order this paper to be punc- tually served up, and to be looked upon as a part of the tea equipage. Sir Francis Bacon observes that a well-written book, 25 compared with its rivals and antagonists, is like Moses's serpent, that immediately swallowed up and devoured those of the Egyptians. I shall not be so vain as to think that where the Spectator appears 1 Both ways; in both ways. _ THE EEADEES OF THE SPECTATOE 53 the other public prints will vanish, but shall leave it to my reader's consideration whether, Is it not much better to be let into the knowledge of one's self than to hear what passes in Muscovy or Poland, and to 5 amuse ourselves with such writings as tend to the wearing out of ignorance, passion, and prejudice than such as naturally conduce to inflame hatreds and make enmities irreconcilable ? In the next place, I would recommend this paper to 10 the daily perusal of those gentlemen whom I cannot but consider as my good brothers and allies ; I mean the fraternity of spectators who live in the world without having anything to do in it, and either by the affluence of their fortunes or laziness of their disposi- 15 tions have no other business with the rest of mankind but to look upon them. Under this class of men are comprehended all contemplative tradesmen, titular physicians, fellows of the Royal Society, Templars that are not given to b"e contentious, and statesmen that 20 are out of business ; in short, everyone that considers the world as a theater and desires to form a right judgment of those who are the actors on it. There is another set of men that I must likewise lay a claim to, whom I have lately called the blanks of 25 society, as being altogether unfurnished with ideas till the business and cunversation of the day has sup- plied them. I have often considered these poor souls with an eye of great commiseration when I have heard them asking the first man they have met with whether 30 there was any news stirring; and by that means 54 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE gathering together materials for thinking. These needy persons do not know what to talk of till about twelve o'clock in the morning; for by that tim.e they are pretty good judges of the weather, know which way the wind sits, and whether the Diitch mail be 5 come in. As they lie at the n:iercy of the first man they meet, and are grave or impertinent all the day long, according to the notions which they have imbibed in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them not to stir out of their chambers till they have read this lo paper, and do promise them that I will daily instill into them such sound and wholesome sentiments as shall have a good effect on their conversation for the ensuing twelve hours. But there are none to w^iom this paper will be more is useful than to the female world. I have often thought there has not been sufficient pains taken in finding out proper employments and diversions for the fair ones. Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as they are women than as they are reasonable creatures ; 20 and are more adapted to the sex than to the species. The toilet is their great scene of business, and the right adjusting of their hair the principal employment of their lives. The sorting of a suit of ribbons is reck- oned a very good morning's work; and if they make 25 an excursion to a mercer's or a toy shop, so great a fatigue makes them unfit for anything else all the day after. Their more serious occupations are sewing and embroidery, and their greatest drudgery the prepara- tion of jellies and sweetmeats. This, I say, is the 30 THE EEADEES OF THE SPECTATOK 55 state of ordinary women; though I know there are multitudes of those of a more elevated life and con- versation that move in an exalted sphere of knowl- edge and virtue, that join all the beauties of the mind 5 to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind of awe and respect, as well as love, into their male beholders. I hope to increase the number of these by publishing this daily paper, which I shall always endeavor to make an innocent, if not an improving, entertainment, 10 and by that means at least divert the minds of my female readers from greater trifles. At the same time, as I would fain give some finishing touches to those which are already the most beautiful pieces in human nature, I shall endeavor to point out all those imper- 15 fections that are the blemishes, as well as those virtues which are the embellishments, of the sex. In the meanwhile I hope these my gentle readers, who have so much time on their hands, will not grudge throw- ing away a quarter of an hour in a day on this paper, 20 since they may do it without any hindrance to busi- ' ness. I know several of my friends and well wishers are in great pain for me, lest I should not be able to keep up the spirit of a paper which I oblige myself to 25 furnish every day ; but to make them easy in this par- ticular, I will promise them faithfully to give it over as soon as I grow dull. This I know w411 be matter of great raillery to the small wits ; who will frequently put me in mind of my promise, desire me to keep my 30 word, assure me that it is high time to give over, with 56 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE many other little pleasantries of the like nature, which men of a little smart genius cannot forbear throwing out against their best friends, when they have such a handle given them of being witty. But let them remember that I do hereby enter my caveat against 5 this piece of raillery. C Ill LEWIS THE EOUETEENTH [The Spectator, No. 180. — Steele. Wednesday, Septemoer S6, 1711.] Delirant reges, plectiintur Achivi. ^ — Horace. The following letter has so much weight and p:ood sense that I cannot forbear inserting it, though it relates to an hardened sinner, whom I have very little hopes of reforming, viz., Lewis XIV. of France. 5 "Mr. Spectator: "Amidst the variety of subjects of which you have treated I could wish it had fallen in your way to expose the vanity of conquests. This thought would naturally lead one to the French king, who has been 10 generally esteemed the greatest conqueror of our age, till her majesty's armies had torn from him so many of his countries, and deprived him of the fruit of all his former victories. For my own part, if I were to draw his picture, I should be for taking him no lower 15 than to the Peace of Eeswick, just at the end of his triumphs, and before his reverse of fortune ; and even i^'Tlie monareli's folly makes the people rue." (Except when otherwise specified, translations of the mottoes are taken from comparatively early editions of the Tatler or Spectator.) 57 58 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE then I should not forbear thinking his ambition had been vain and unprofitable to himself and his people. ''As for himself, it is certain he can have gained nothing by his conquests, if they have not rendered him master of more subjects, more riches, or greater 5 power. What I shall be able to offer upon these heads, I resolve to submit to your consideration. "To begin, then, with his increase of subjects. From the time he came of age, and has been a manager for himself, all the people he had^ acquired were suchio only as he had reduced by his wars, and were left in his possession by the peace ; he had conquered not above one-third part of Flanders, and consequently no more than one-third part of the inhabitants of that province. is "About one hundred years ago, the houses in that country were all numbered, and by a just computation the inhabitants of all sorts could not then exceed 750,- 000 souls. And if any man will consider the desola- tion by almost perpetual wars, the numerous armies 20 that have lived almost ever since at discretion upon the people, and how much of their commerce has removed for more security to other places, he will have little reason to imagine that their numbers have since increased ; and therefore with one-third part of that 25 province that prince can have gained no more than one-third part of the inhabitants, or 250,000 new sub- jects, even though it should be supposed they were all ^ Bad acquired; each liad in this paragraph should be lias and each were, are. LEWIS THE FOURTEENTH 59 contented to live still in their native country, and transfer their allegiance to a new master. ' ' The fertility of this province, its convenient situa- tion for trade and commerce, its capacity for furnish- 5 ing employment and subsistence to great numbers, and the vast armies that have been maintained here, make it credible that the remaining two-thirds of Flanders are equal to all his other conquests ; and consequently by all he cannot have gained more than 750,000 new 10 subjects, men, women, and children, especially if a deduction shall be made of such as have retired from the conqueror to live under their old masters. " It is time now to set his loss against his profit, and to show for the new subjects he had acquired how 15 many old ones he had lost in the acquisition. I think that in his wars he has seldom brought less into the field in all places than 200,000 fighting men, besides what have been left in garrisons ; and I think the com- mon computation is that of an army, at the latter end 20 of a campaign, without sieges or battle, scarce four- fifths can be mustered of those that came into the field at the beginning of the year. His wars at several times till the last peace have held about twenty years ; and if 40,000 yearly lost, or a fifth part of his armies, 25 are to be multiplied by twenty, he cannot have lost less th1an 800,000 of his old subjects, all able-bodied men, a greater number than the new subjects he had acquired. ' ' But this loss is not all. Providence seems to have 30 equally divided the whole mass of mankind into dif- 60 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE ferent sexes that every woman may have her husband, and that both may equally contribute to the continu- ance of the species. It follows, then, that for all the men that have been lost as many women must have lived single. In so long a course of years great parts of them must have died, and all the rest must go off at last without leaving any representatives behind. By this account he must have lost not only 800,000 subjects, but double that number, and all the increase that was reasonably to be expected from it. lo "It is said in the last war there was a famine in his kingdom which swept away two millions of his people. This is hardly credible; if the loss was only of one-fifth part of that sum it was very great. But 'tis no wonder there should be famine where so much is of the people's substance is taken away for the king's use that they have not sufficient left to provide against accidents, where so many of the men are taken from the plough to serve the king in his wars, and a great part of the tillage is left to the weaker hands of so 20 many women and children. Whatever was the loss, it must undoubtedly be placed to the account of his ambition. "And so must also the destruction or banishment of three or four hundred thousand of his reformed 25 subjects; he could have no other reasons for valuing those lives so very cheap but only to recommend him- self to the bigotry of the Spanish nation. "How should there be industry in a country w^here all property is precarious? What subject will sow so LEWIS THE FOUETEENTH 61 his land that his prince may reap the whole harvest? Parsimony and frugality must be strangers to such a people; for will any man save today what he has reason to fear will be taken from him tomorrow ? And 5 where is the encouragement for marrying? "Will any man think of raising children without any assurance of clothing for their backs, or so much as food for their bellies ? And thus by his fatal ambition he must have lessened the number of his subjects, not only by 10 slaughter and destruction, but by preventing their very births, he has done as much as was possible toward destroying posterity itself. • ' Is this then the great, the invincible Lewis ? This the immortal man, the tout puissant, or the almighty, 15 as his flatterers have called him ? Is this the man that is so celebrated for his conquests? For every subject he has acquired, has he not lost three that were his inheritance? Are not his troops fewer, and those neither so well fed, or clothed, or paid, as they were 20 formerly, though he has now so much greater cause to exert himself? And what can be the reason of all this but that his revenue is a great deal less, his subjects are either poorer, or not so many to be plun- dered by constant taxes for his use ? 25 "It is well for him he had found out a way to steal a kingdom; if he had gone on conquering as he did before, his ruin had been long since finished. This brings to my mind a saying of King Pyrrhus, after he had a second time beat the Romans in a pitched battle, 30 and was complimented by his generals, 'Yes,' says he, 62 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE 'such another victory and I am quite undone.' And since I have mentioned Pyrrhus, I will end with a very good, though known, story of this ambitious mad- man. AVhen he had shewn the utmost fondness for his expedition against the Romans, Cyneas, his chiefs minister, asked him what he proposed to himself by this war. 'Why,' says Pyrrhus, 'to conquer the Romans, and reduce all Italy to my obedience.' 'What then?' says Cyneas. lo 'To pass over into Sicily,' says Pyrrhus, 'and then all the Sicilians must be our subjects.' 'And what does your majesty intend next?' 'Why, truly,' says the king, 'to conquer Carthage, and make myself master of all Africa.' 15 'And what, sir,' says the minister, 'is to be the end of all your expeditions ? ' 'Why, then,' says the king, 'for the rest of our lives we'll sit down to good wine.' 'How sir,' replied Cyneas, 'to better than we have 20 now before us? Have we not already as much as we can drink?' ^'Riot and excess are not the becoming characters of princes; but if Pyrrhus and Lewis had debauched like Vitellius they had been less hurtful to their 25 people. "Your humble servant, ' ' Philarithm us. ' ' IV THE UPHOLSTEEER [The Tatler, No. 155.— Addison. Thursday, April 6, 1710.] Aliena negotia curat, Excussus propriis.i — Horace. From my oivn Apartment, April 5. There lived some years since, within my neighbor- hood, a very grave person, an npholsterer, who seemed a man of more than ordinary application to business. He was a very early riser and was often abroad two 5 or three hours before any of his neighbors. He had a particular carefulness in the knitting of his brows and a kind of impatience in all his motions that plainly discovered he was always intent on matters of impor- tance. Upon my inquiry into his life and conversa- lotion, I found him to be the greatest newsmonger in our quarter : that he rose before day to read the Post- man; and that he would take two or three turns to the other end of the town before his neighbors were up, to see if there were any Dutch mails come in. He 15 had a wife and several children ; but was much more I'^When he had lost all business of his own, He ran in quest of news through all the town.'' 63 64 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE inquisitive to know what passed in Poland than in his own family and was in greater pain and anxiety of mind for King Augustus's welfare than^ that of his nearest relations. He looked extremely thin in a dearth of news and never enjoyed himself in a west- 5 erly Vvdnd. This indefatigable kind of life was the ruin of his shop ; for about the time that his favorite prince left the crown of Poland, he broke and disap- peared. This man and his affairs had been long out of myic mind, until about three days ago, as I was walking in St. James's park, I heard somebody at a distance hem- ming after me ; and who should it be but my old neigh- bor, the upholsterer ? I saw he was reduced to extreme poverty, by certain shabby superfluities in his dress : i£ for, notwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for the time of the year, he wore a loose greatcoat and a muff, with a long campaign wig out of curl, to which he had added the ornament of a pair of black garters buckled under the knee. 2C ITpon his coming up to me, I was going to inquire into his present circumstances ; but was prevented by his asking me, with a whisper, 'whether the last let-** ters brought any accounts that one might rely upon from Bender?' 25 T told him, ' ' None that I heard of, ' ' and asked him, 'whether he had yet married his eldest daughter.' He told me, "No. But pray," says he, "tell me sincerely what are your thoughts of the King of ^ A more careful writer would have put a for after this word. THE UPHOLSTEEEE 65 Sweden?" For though his wife and children were starving, I found his chief concern at present was for this great monarch. I told him, that I looked upon him as one of the first heroes of the age. 5 "But pray," says he, "do you think there is any- thing in the story of his wound?" And finding me surprised at the question, "Nay," says he, "I only propose it to you." I answered that I thought there was no reason to 10 doubt of it. "But why in the heel," says he, "more than any other part of the body ? " "Because," said I, "the bullet chanced to light there. ' ' 15 This extraordinary dialogue was no sooner ended but he began to launch out into a long dissertation upon the affairs of the North ; and after having spent some time on them, he told me he was in a great perplexity how to reconcile the Supplement with the 20 English Post and had been just now examining what the other papers say upon the same subject. "The Daily Courant,^^ says he, "has these words. 'We have advices from very good hands that a certain prince has some matters of great importance under consider- 25ation.' This is very mysterious but the Post-hoy leaves us more in the dark ; for he tells us ' That there are private intimations of measures taken by a certain prince which time will bring to light. ' Now the Post- man/' says he, "who uses to be very clear, refers to 30 the same news in these words: 'The late conduct of 66 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE a certain prince affords great matter of speculation.' "This certain prince/' says the upholsterer, "whom they are all so cautious of naming, I take to be . ' ' Upon which, though there was nobody near us, he whispered something in my ear, which I did not hear, 5 or think worth my while to make him repeat. We were now got to the upper end of the Mall, where were three or four very odd fellows sitting together upon the bench. These I found were all of them politicians who used to sun themselves in that 10 place every day about dinner time. Observing them to be curiosities in their kind and my friend's ac- quaintance, I sat down among them. The chief politician of the bench was a great as- serter of paradoxes. He told us, with a seeming con- 15 cern, that by some news he had lately read from Muscovy it appeared to him that there was a storm gathering in the Black Sea which might in time do hurt to the naval forces of this nation. To this he added that, for his part, he could not wish to see the 20 Turk driven out of Europe, which he believed could not but be prejudicial to our woolen manufacture. He then told us that he looked upon those extraor- dinary revolutions which had lately happened in those parts of the world to have risen chiefly from two per- 25 sons who were not much talked of; "and those," says he "are Prince Menzikoff and the Duchess of Miran- dola." He backed his assertions with so many broken hints and such a show of depth and wisdom that we gave ourselves up to his opinions. 3G THE UPHOLSTEEEE 67 The discourse at length fell upon a point which seldom escapes a knot of true-born Englishmen, whether, in case of a religious war, the Protestants would not be too strong for the Papists? This we 5 unanimously determined on the Protestant side. One who sat on my right hand, and, as I found by his discourse, had been in the West Indies, assured us, that it v/ould be a Yery easy matter for the Protes- tants to beat the Pope at sea; and added that when- ever such a war does break out, it must turn to the good of the Leeward Islands. Upon this, one who sat at the end of the bench and, as I afterwards found, was the geographer of the company, said that in case the Papists should drive the Protestants from .5 these parts of Europe, when the worst came to the worst, it would be impossible to beat them out of Nor- way and Greenland, provided the northern crowns hold together and the czar of Muscovy stand neuter. He further told us, for our comfort, that there were 20 vast tracts of lands about the pole, inhabited neither by Protestants nor Papists and of greater extent than all the Roman Catholic dominions in Europe. When we had fully discussed this point my friend, the upholsterer, began to exert himself upon the pres- 25 ent negotiations of peace ; in which he deposed princes, settled the bounds of kingdoms, and balanced the power of Europe, with great justice and impartiality. I at length took my leave of the company, and was going away, but had not gone thirty yards before the 30 upholsterer hemmed again after me. Upon his ad- (68 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE vancing toward me with a whisper, I expected to hear some secret piece of news, which he had not thought fit to communicate to the bench; but instead of that, he desired me in my ear to lend him half-a- crown. In compassion to so needy a statesman, and 5 to dissipate the confusion I found he was in, I told him, if he pleased, I would give him five shillings, to receive five pounds of him when the Great Turk was driven out of Constantinople; which he very readily accepted, but not before he had laid down to me theic impossibility of such an event as the affairs of Europe now stand. This paper I design for the particular benefit of those worthy citizens who live more in a coffee house than in their shops, and whose thoughts are so taken i£ up with the affairs of the allies that they forget their customers. V COFFEE HOUSE NEWS [The Spectator, No. 403. — Addison. Thursday, June 12, 1112.'\ Qui mores hominum multorum vidit.i — Horace. "When I consider this great city in its several quar- ters and divisions, I look upon it as an aggregate of various nations distinguished from each other by their respective customs, manners, and interests. The courts 5 of two countries do not so much differ from one an- other as the court and city in their peculiar ways of life and conversation. In short, the inhabitants of St. James's, notwithstanding they live under the same laws, and speak the same language, are a distinct 10 people from those of Cheapside, who are likewise removed from those of the Temple on the one side, and those of Smithfield on the other, by several cli- mates and degrees in their way of thinking and con- versing together. 15 For this reason, when any public affair is upon the anvil, I love to hear the reflections that arise upon it in the several districts and parishes of London and "Westminster, and to ramble up and down a whole day together, in order to make myself acquainted with 1 ' ' Who sees the manners of many men. ' ' 69 70 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE the opinions of my ingenious countrymen. By this means I know the faces of all the principal politicians within the bills of mortality ; and as every coffee house has some particular statesman belonging to it, who is the mouth of the street where he lives, I always take 5 care to place myself near him, in order to know his judgment on the present posture of affairs. The last progress that I made with this intention was about three months ago, when we had a current report of the king of France's death. As I foresaw this would lo produce a new face of things in Europe, and many curious speculations in our British coffee houses, I was very desirous to learn the thoughts of our most eminent politicians on that occasion. That I might begin as near the fountain head as is possible, I first of all called in at St. James's, where I found the whole outward room in a buzz of politics. The speculations were but very indifferent toward the door, but grew finer as you advanced to the upper end of the room, and were so verj^ much improved by 20 a knot of theorists who sat in the inner room, within the steams of the coffee pot, that I there heard the whole Spanish monarchy disposed of and all the line of Bourbon provided for in less than a quarter of an hour. 25 I afterwards called in at Giles's, where I saw a board of French gentlemen sitting upon the life and death of their grand monarque. Those among them who had espoused the Whig interest very positively affirmed that he departed this life about a week since, 30 COFFEE HOUSE NEWS 71 and therefore proceeded without any further delay to the release of their friends on the galleys, and to their own re-establishment ; but finding they could not agree among themselves, I proceeded on my intended prog- 5 ress. Upon my arrival at Jenny Man's, I saw an alert young fellow that cocked his hat upon a friend of his who entered just at the same time with myself, and accosted him after the following manner. "Well, 10 Jack, the old prig is dead at last. Sharp 's the w^ord. Now or never boy. Up to the walls of Paris directly. ' ' With several other deep reflections of the same nature. I met with very little variation in the politics be- tween Charing Cross and Covent Garden. And upon 15 my going into Will 's, I found their discourse was gone off from the death of the French king to that of Monsieur Boileau, Racine, Corneille, and several other poets, whom they regretted on this occasion, as per- sons who would have obliged the world with very 20 noble elegies on the death of so great a prince, and so eminent a patron of learning. At a coffee house near the Temple, I found a couple of young gentlemen engaged very smartly in a dis- pute on the succession to the Spanish monarchy. One 25 of them seemed to have been retained as advocate for the Duke of Anjou, the other for his Imperial Majes- ty. They were both for regulating the title to that kingdom by the statute laws of England ; but finding them going out of my depth I passed forward to 30 Paul 's churchyard, where I listened with great atten- 72 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE tion to a learned man, who gave the company an account of the deplorable state of France during the minority of the deceased king. j I then turned on my right hand into Fish Street, where the chief politician of that quarter, upon hear- 5 ing the news, (after having taken a pipe of tobacco, and ruminated for some time) "If," says he, ''the Mng of France is certainly dead, we shall have plenty of mackerel this season; our fishery will not be dis- turbed by privateers, as it has been for these ten 10 years past. ' ' He afterwards considered how the death of this great man would affect our pilchards, and by several other remarks infused a general joy into his whole audience. I afterwards entered a by coffee house that stood 15 at the upper end of a narrow lane, where I met with a nonjuror, engaged very warmly with a laceman who was the great support of a neighboring conven- ticle. The matter in debate was whether the late French king was most like Augustus Caesar or Nero. 20 The controversy was carried on with great heat on both sides, and as each of them looked upon me very frequently during the course of their debate, I was under some apprehension that they would appeal to me, and therefore laid down my penny at the bar, 25 and made the best of my way to Cheapside. I here gazed upon the signs for some time before I found one to my purpose. The first object I met in the coffee room was a person who expressed a great grief for the death of the French king ; but upon his 30 COFFEE HOUSE NEWS 73 explaining himself, I found his sorrow did not arise from the loss of the monarch, but for his having sold out of the bank about three days before he heard the news of it: upon which a haberdasher, who was the 5 oracle of the coffee house, and had his circle of ad- mirers about him, called several to witness that he had declared his opinion above a week before that the French king was certainly dead; to which he added, that considering the late advices we had re- 10 ceived from France, it was impossible that it could be otherwise. As he was laying these together and dictating to his hearers with great authority, there came in a gentleman from Garraway's, who told us that there were several letters from France just come 15 in, with advice that the king was in good health, and was gone out a-hunting the very morning the post came away: upon which the haberdasher stole off his hat that hung upon a wooden peg by him, and re- tired to his shop with great confusion. This intelli- 20 gence put a stop to my travels, which I had prosecuted with much satisfaction; not being a little pleased to hear so many different opinions upon so great an event, and to observe how naturally upon such a piece of news everyone is apt to consider it with a regard to 25 his particular interest and advantage. L VI PRINTING AND PAPER [The Spectator, No. 367. — Addison. Thursday, May 1, 1712.1 Periturae parcere chartae.i — Juvenal. I have often pleased myself with considering the two kinds of benefits which accrue to the public from these my speculations, and which, were I to speak after the manner of logicians, I would distinguish into the material and the formal. By the latter 1 5 understand those advantages which my readers re- ceive, as their minds are either improved or delighted by these my daily labors; but having already several times descanted on my endeavors in this light, I shall at present wholly confine myself to the consideration lo of the former. By the word material I mean those benefits which arise to the public from these my speculations, as they consume a considerable quantity of our paper manufacture, employ our artisans in printing, and find business for great numbers ofi5 indigent persons. Our paper manufacture takes into it several mean materials which could be put to no other use, and affords work for several hands in the collecting of 1 ' ' To spare paper that is sure to be wasted. ' ' — Lewis Tlvans. 74 FEINTING AND PAPEK 75 them which are incapable of *any other employment. Those poor retailers whom we see so busy in every street deliver in their respective gleanings to the merchant. The merchant carries them in loads to 5 the paper mill, where they pass through a fresh set of hands, and give life to another trade. Those who have mills on their estates by this means considerably raise their rents, and the whole nation is in a great measure supplied with a manufacture for which 10 formerly she was obliged to her neighbors. The materials are no sooner wrought into paper but they are distributed among the presses, where they again set innumerable artists at work, and fur- nish business to another mystery. From hence, 15 accordingly as they are stained with news or politics, they fly through the town in Postmen, Post-hoys, Daily Courants, Reviews, Medleys, and Examiners. Men, women, and children contend who shall be the first bearers of them, and get their daily sustenance 20 by spreading them. In short, when I trace in my mind a bundle of rags to a quire of Spectators, I find so many hands employed in every step they take through their whole progress that while I am writing a Spectator I fancy myself providing bread for a 25 multitude. If I do not take care to obviate some of my witty readers, they will be apt to tell me that my paper, after it is thus printed and published, is still bene- ficial to the public on several occasions. I must confess 30 1 have lighted my pipe with my own works for this 76 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE twelve-month past: my landlady often sends up her little daughter to desire some of my old Spectators, and has frequently told me that the paper they are printed on is the best in the world to wrap spice in. They likewise make a good foundation for a muttons pie, as I have more than once experienced, and were very much sought for last Christmas by the whole neighborhood. It is pleasant enough to consider the changes that a linen fragment undergoes by passing through theio several hands above mentioned. The finest pieces of holland, when worn to tatters, assume a new white- ness more beautiful than their first, and often return in the shape of letters to their native country. A lady 's shift may be metamorphosed into billets-doux, 15 and come into her possession a second time. A beau may peruse his cravat after it is worn out, with greater pleasure and advantage than ever he did in a glass. In a word, a piece of cloth, after having offi- ciated for some years as a towel or a napkin, may by 20 this means be raised from a dunghill, and become the most valuable piece of furniture in a prince 's cabinet^ The politest nations of Europe have endeavored to vie with one another for the reputation of the finest printing. Absolute governments, as well as republics, 25 have encouraged an art Y\'hich seems to be the noblest and most beneficial that was ever invented among the sons of men. The present King of France, in his pursuits after glory, has particularly distinguished himself by the promoting of this useful art, insomuch so FEINTING AND PAPEE 77 that several books have been printed in the Louvre at his own expense, upon which he sets so great a value that he considers them as the noblest presents he can make to foreign princes and ambassadors. If 5 we look into the commonwealths of Holland and Venice, we shall find that in this particular they have made themselves the envy of the greatest monarchies. Elzever and Aldus are more frequently mentioned than any pensioner of the one or doge of the other. 10 The several presses which are now in England, and the great encouragement which has been given to learning for some years last past, has made our own nation as glorious upon this account as for its late triumphs and conquests. The new edition which is 15 given us of Caesar's Commentaries has already been- taken notice of in foreign Gazettes, and is a work that does honor to the English press. It is no wonder that an edition should be very correct which has passed through the hands of one of the most accurate, 20 learned, and judicious writers this age has produced. The beauty of the paper, of the character, and of the several cuts with which this noble work is illustrated, makes it the finest book that I have ever seen; and is a true instance of the English genius, which, 25 though it does not come the first into any art, generally carries it to greater heights than any other country in the world. I am particularly glad that this author comes from a British printing house in so great a magnificence, as he is the first who has given us any 30 tolerable account of our countrv. 78 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE My illiterate readers, if any such there are, will be surprised to hear me talk of learning as the glory of a nation, and of printing as an art that gains a reputa- tion to a people among whom it flourishes. When men's thoughts are taken up with avarice and ambi-5 tion, they cannot look upon any thing as great or valuable which does not bring with it an extraordinary power or interest to the person who is concerned in it. But as I shall never sink this paper so far as to engage with Goths and Yandals, I shall only regard lo such kind of reasoners with that pity which is due to so deplorable a degree of stupidity and ignorance. L VII THE ADVENTUEES OF A SHILLING [The Tatler, No. S49. — Addison. Saturday, Nov. 11, 1710.] Per varies casus, per tot discrimina rernm, Tendimus.i —Virgil. From my oivn Apartment, Novemher 10.- I was last night visited by a friend of mine who has an inexhaustible fund of discourse and never" fails to entertain his company with a variety of thoughts and hints that are altogether new and un- 5 common. Whether it were in complaisance to my way of living, or his real opinion, he advanced the following paradox: That it required much greater talents to fill up and become a retired life than a life of business. Upon this occasion he rallied, very 10 agreeably, the busy men of the age who only valued themselves for being in motion and passing through a series of trifling and insignificant actions. In the heat of his discourse, seeing a piece of money lying on my table, "I defy," says he, ''any of these active 15 persons to produce half the adventures that this twelve-penny piece has been engaged in, were it pos- sible for him to give us an account of his life." 1 ' ' Through various hazards and events we move. ' ' — John Dryden. 79 80 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE My friend's talk made so odd an impression upon my mind that soon after I was a-bed I fell insensibly into a most unaccountable reverie, that had neither moral nor design in it and cannot be so properly called a dream as a delirium. 5 ]\lethought the shilling that lay upon the table reared itself upon its edge and, turning the face to- ward me, opened its mouth and, in a soft silver sound, gave me the following account of his life and adventures : _ ic ^'I was born," says he, ''on the side of a mountain, ■near a little village of Peru, and made a voyage to England in an ingot, under the convoy of Sir Francis Drake. I was, soon after my arrival, taken out of my Indian habit, refined, naturalized and put into is the British mode, with the face of Queen Elizabeth on one side and the arms of the country on the other. Being thus equipped, I found in me a wonderful in- clination to ramble and visit all parts of the new world into which I was brought. The people very 20 much favored my natural disposition and shifted me so fast from hand to hand that, before I was five years old, I had traveled into almost every corner of the nation. But in the beginning of my sixth year, to my unspeakable grief, I fell into the hands of a 25 miserable old fellow, who clapped me into an iron chest, where I found five hundred more of my own quality who lay under the same confinement. The only relief we had was to be taken out and counted over in the fresh air every morning and evening, sc THE ADVENTUEES OF A SHILLING 81 After an imprisonment of several years, we heard somebody knocking at our chest and breaking it open with a hammer. This we found was the old man's heir, who, as his father lay a-dying, was so good as to 5 come to our release. He separated us that very day. What was the fate of my companions I know not ; as for myself, I was sent to the apothecary's shop for a pint of sack. The apothecary gave me to an herb- woman, the herb-woman to a butcher, the butcher to oa brewer, and the brewer to his wife, who made a present of me to a nonconformist preacher. After this manner I made my way merrily through the world, for, as I told you before, we shillings love nothing so much as traveling. I sometimes fetched sin a shoulder of mutton, sometimes a play-book, and often had the satisfaction to treat a templar at a twelve-penny ordinary, or carry him with three friends to Westminster Hall. ''In the midst of this pleasant progress wiiich I lomade from place to place, I was arrested by a super- stitious old woman, who shut me up in a greasy purse, in pursuance of a foolish saying, 'that while she kept a Queen Elizabeth's shilling about her, she should never be without money.' I continued here 25 a close prisoner for many months, until at last I was exchanged for eight-and-forty farthings. "I thus rambled from pocket to pocket, until the beginning of the civil wars, when, to my shame be it spoken, I was employed in raising soldiers against JO the king: for, being of a very tempting breadth, a 82 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE sergeant made use of me to inveigle country fellows and list them into the service of the parliament. ''As soon as he had made one man sure, his way was to oblige him to take a shilling of a more homely figure and then practice the same trick upon another. Thus I continued doing great mischief to the crown, until my officer sacrificed me to his pleasures. "After many adventures, which it would be tedious to relate, I was sent to a young spendthrift, in com- pany with the will of his deceased father. The young fellow, who, I found, was very extravagant, gave great demonstrations of joy at the receiving the will; but opening it, he found himself disinherited, and cut off from the possession of a fair estate, by virtue of my being made a present to him. This put him into such a passion, that after having taken me into his hand and cursed me, he squirred me away from him as far as he could fling me. I chanced to light in an unfrequented place, under a dead wall, where I lay undiscovered and useless during the usurpation o'f Oliver Cromwell. ''About a year after the king's return, a poor cavalier that was walking there about dinner-time fortunately cast his eye upon me and, to the great joy of us both, carried me to a cook's shop, where he dined upon me and drank the king's health. When I came again into the world, I found that I had been happier in my retirement than I thought, having probably by that means escaped wearing a monstrous pair of breeches. THE ADVENTUKES OF A SHILLING 83 *' Being now of great credit and antiquity, I was rather looked upon as a medal than an ordinary coin ; for which reason a gamester laid hold of me and converted m.e to a counter, having got together some 5 dozens of us for that use. We led a melancholy life in his possession, being busy at those hours wherein current coin is at rest, and partaking the fate of our master; being in a few moments valued at a crown, a pound, or a sixpence, according to the situation in a which the fortune of the cards placed us. I had at length the good luck to see my master break, by which means I was again sent abroad under my primitive denomination of a shilling. "I shall pass over many other accidents of less .5 moment and hasten to that fatal catastrophe when I fell into the hands of an artist who conveyed me under ground and, with an unmerciful pair of shears, cut off my titles, clipped my brims, retrenched my shape, rubbed me to my inm^ost ring and, in short, 20 so spoiled and pillaged me that he did not leave me worth a groat. You may think 'what confusion I was in to see myself thus curtailed and disfigured. I should have been ashamed to have shown my head had not all of my old acquaintances been reduced 25 to the same shameful figure, excepting some few that were punched through the belly. In the midst of this general calamity, when everybody thought our misfortune irretrievable and our case desperate, we were thrown into the furnace together and, as it often 30 happens with cities rising out a fire, appeared with 84 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE greater beauty and luster than we could ever boast of before. What has happened to me since this change of sex which you now see, I shall take some other opportunity to relate. In the meantime, I shall only repeat two adventures, as being very extraordinary, 5 and neither of them having ever happened to me above once in my life. The first was, my being in a poet's pocket, who was so taken with the brightness and novelty of my appearance that it gave occasion to the finest burlesque poem in the British language, enti-10 tuled, from me. The Splendid Shilling. The second adventure which I must not omit happened to me in the year 1703, when I was given away in charity to a blind man; but indeed this was by mistake, the person who gave me having thrown me heedlessly is into the hat among a penny-worth of farthings." VIII THE TRUMPET CLUB [The Tatler, No. 132.— Steele. Saturday, Feb. 11, 1709-10.] Habeo seneetuti magnam gratiam, quae mihi sermonis avidi- tatem auxit, potionis et cibi sustulit.i — Tullius, de Senectute. After having applied my mind with more than ordinary attention to my studies, it is my usual custom to relax and unbend it in the conversation of such as are rather easy than shining companions. This I 5 find particularly necessary for me before I retire to rest, in order to draw my slumbers upon me by degrees and fall asleep insensibly. This is the particular use I make of a set of heavy, honest men, with whom I have passed many hours with much indolence, though 10 not with great pleasure. Their conversation is a kind of preparative for sleep : it takes the mind down from its abstractions, leads it into the familiar traces of thought, and lulls it into that state of tranquillity which is the condition of a thinking man when he is 15 but half awake. After this, my reader will not be surprised to hear the account which I am about to 1 ' ' I am much beholden to old age, which has increased my eagerness for conversation in proportion as it has lessened my appetites of hunger and thirst." 85 gg ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE give of a club of my own contemporaries among whom I pass two or three hours every evening. This I look upon as taking my first nap before I go to bed. The truth of it is, I should think myself unjust to posterity, as well as to the society at the Trumpet, of which 5 I am a member, did not I in some part of my Avritings give an account of the persons among whom I have passed almost a sixth part of my time for these last forty years. Our club consisted originally of fifteen ; but, partly by the severity of the law in arbitrary k times, and partly by the natural effects of old age, we are at present reduced to a third part of that number ; in which, however, we have this consolation, that the best company is said to consist of five persons. I must confess, besides the aforementioned benefit which In meet with in the conversation of this select society, I am not the less pleased with the company, in that I find myself the greatest wit among them and am heard as their oracle in all points of learning and difficulty^ Sir Jeoffery Notch, who is the oldest of the club,2( has been in possession of the right-hand chair time out of mind and is the only man among us that has the liberty of stirring the fire. This, our foreman, is a gentleman of an ancient family, that came to a great estate some years before he had discretion and 21 run it out in hounds, horses, and cock-fighting; f or - which reason he looks upon himself as an honest, worthy gentleman who has had misfortunes in the w^orld, and calls every thriving man a pitiful upstart, Major Matchlock is the next senior, who served mm t:^e trumpet club 87 the last civil wars and has all the battles by heart. He does not think any action in Europe worth talking of since the fight of Marston Moor ; and every night tells us of his having been knocked off his horse at 5 the rising of the London apprentices ; for which he is in great esteem among us. Honest old Dick Reptile is the third of our society. He is a good-natured, indolent man who speaks little himself but laughs at our jokes; and brings his young nephew along with him, a youth of eighteen years old, to show him good company and give him a taste of the world. This young f ellov/ sits generally silent ; but whenever he opens his mouth or laughs at any thing that passes he is constantly told by his uncle, 15 after a jocular manner, "Ay, ay, Jack, you young men think us fools; but we old men know you are." The greatest wit of our company, next to myself, is a bencher of the neighboring inn, who in his youth frequented the ordinaries about Charing Cross, and 20 pretends to have been intimate with Jack Ogle. He has about ten distiches of Hudibras without book and never leaves the club till he has applied them all. If any modern wit be mentioned, or any town frolic spoken of, he shakes his head at the dullness of the 25 present age and tells us a story of Jack Ogle. For my own part, I am esteemed among them because they see I am something respected by others ; though at the same time I understand by their behavior that I am considered by them as a man of a great deal 30 of learning but no knowledge of the world ; insomuch, 88 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE that the Major sometimes, in the height of his military pride, calls me the philosopher; and Sir Jeoffery, no longer ago than last night, upon a dispute what day of the month it was then in Holland, pulled his pipe out of his mouth and cried, "What does the scholars say to it?" Our club meets precisely at six o'clock in the evening; but I did not come last night until half an hour after seven, by which means I escaped the battle of Naseby, which the Major usually begins atio about three-quarters after six: I found also that my good friend the bencher had already spent three of his distiches ; and only waited an opportunity to hear a sermon spoken of that he might introduce the couplet where "a stick" rhymes to "ecclesiastic." At my 15 entrance into the room, they were naming a red petti- coat and a cloak, by which I found that the bencher had been diverting them with a story of Jack Ogle. I had no sooner taken my seat but Sir Jeoffery, to show his good will toward me, gave me a pipe of 20 his own tobacco and stirred up the fire. I look upon it as a point of morality to be obliged by those who endeavor to oblige me; and therefore, in requital for his kindness and' to set the conversation a-going, I took the best occasion I could to put him upon telling 25 us the story of old Gantlett, which he always does with very particular concern. . He traced up his descent on both sides for several generations, describ- ing his diet and manner of life, with his several battles, and particularly that in which he fell. This so THE TRUMPET CLUB 89 Gantlett was a game cock upon whose head the knight, in his youth, had won five hundred pounds and lost two thousand. This naturally set the Major upon the account of Edgehill fight, and ended in a duel 5 of Jack Ogle 's. Old Reptile was extremely attentive to all that was said, though it was the same he had heard every night for these twenty years, and, upon all occasions, winked upon his nephew to mind what passed. 10 This may suffice to give the world a taste of our innocent conversation, which we spun out until about ten of the clock, when my maid came with a lantern to light me home. I could not but reflect with myself, as I was going out, upon the talkative humor of old 15 men and the little figure which that part of life makes in one who cannot employ his natural propensity in discourses which would make him venerable. I must own, it makes me very melancholy in company, when I hear a young man begin a story; and have often 20 observed that one of a quarter of an hour long in a man of five-and-twenty gathers circumstances every time he tells it, until it grows into a long Canterbury tale of two hours by that time he is threescore. The only way of avoiding such a trifling and 25 frivolous old age is to lay up in our way to it such stores of knowledge and observation as may make us useful and agreeable in our declining years. The mind of man in a long life will become a magazine of wisdom or folly, and will consequently discharge itself 30 in something impertinent or improving. For which 90 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE reason, as there is nothing more ridiculous than an old trifling story-teller, so there is nothing more ven- erable than one who has turned his experience to the entertainment and advantage of mankind. In short, we who are in the last stage of life and 5 are apt to indulge ourselves in talk ought to consider if what we speak be worth being heard and endeavor to make our discourse like that of Nestor, which Homer compares to the flowing of honey for its sweetness. I am afraid I shall be thought guilty of this excess lo I am speaking of, when I cannot conclude without observing that Milton certainly thought of this passage in Homer when, in his description of an eloquent spirit, he says, *'His tongue dropped manna.'' IX MEMOIES OF A PEESTON EEBEL [The Freeholder, No. 3. — Addison. Friday, Bee. 30, 1715.] Qoibiis otio vel magnifice, vel molliter vivere copia erat, ineerta Pro certis, bellum quam pacem, malebant.i — Sallust. Every one knows that it is usual for a French officer who can write and read to set down all the occur- rences of a campaign in which he pretends to have been personally concerned; and to publish them under the 5 title of his ' ' Memoirs, ' ' when most of his fellow sol- diers are dead that might have contradicted any of his matters of fact. Many a gallant young fellow has been killed in battle before he came to the third page of his secret 10 history ; when several, who have taken more care of their persons, have lived to fill a whole volume with their military performances, and to astonish the world with such instances of their braverj^ as had escaped the notice of everybody else. One of our late Preston 15 heroes had, it seems, resolved upon this method of doing himself justice; and had he not been nipped in the bud, might have made a very formidable 1 ' ' Those who might have lived splendidly and at ease pre- ferred uncertainties to certainties, war before peace." 91 92 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE figure in his own works among posterity. A friend of mine, who had the pillage of his pockets has made me the present of the following memoirs, which he desires me to accept as a part of the spoils of the rebels. I have omitted the introduction, as mores proper for the inspection of a secretary of state, and shall only set down so much of the memoirs as seem to be a faithful narrative of that wonderful expedition which drew upon it the eyes of all Europe. ''Having thus concerted measures for a rising, weio had a general meeting over a bowl of punch. It w^as here proposed, by one of the wisest among us, to draw up a manifesto, setting forth the grounds and motives of our taking arms; for, as he observed, there had never yet been an insurrection in England where the 15 leaders had not thought themselves obliged to give some reasons for it. To this end, we laid our heads together to consider what grievances the nation had suffered under the reign of King George. After hav- ing spent some hours upon this subject, without being 20 able to discover any, we unanimously agreed to rebel first, and to find out reasons for it afterwards. It was, indeed, easy to guess at several grievances of a private nature which influenced particular persons. One of us had spent his fortune; another was a 25 younger brother; a third had the incumbrance of a father upon his estate. But that which principally disposed us in favor of the Chevalier was that most of the company had been obliged to take the abjuration MEMOIKS OF A PEESTON EEBEL 93 oath against their will. Being at length thoroughly inflamed with zeal and punch, we resolved to take horse the next morning, which we did accordingly, having been joined by a considerable reinforcement 5 of Roman Catholics, whom we could rely upon, as knowing them to be the best Tories in the nation, and avow^ed enemies to Presbyterianism. We were, like- wise, joined by a very useful associate, who was a fiddler by profession, and brought in with him a 10 body of lusty young fellows whom he had tweedled into the service. About the third day of our march, I v\^as made a colonel; though I must needs say I gained my commission by my horse's virtues, not my own ; having leaped over a six-bar gate at the head 15 of the cavalry. My general, who is a discerning man, hereupon gave me a regiment; telling me, 'He did not question but I would do the like when I came to the enemy 's palisadoes. ' We pursued our march, with much intrepidity, through two or three open towns, 20 to the great terror of the market people. Notwith- standing the magistracy was generally against us, we could discover many friends among our spectators; particularly in two or three balconies After these signal successes in the north of England, it was 25 thought advisable, by our general, to proceed toward our Scotch confederates. During our first day's march, I amused myself with considering what post I should accept of under James the Third, when we had put him in possession of the British dominions. 30 Being a great lover of country sports, I absolutely 94 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE determined not to be a minister of state, nor to be fobbed off with a garter ; until, at length, passing by a noble country seat which belongs to a Whig, I resolved to beg it ; and pleased myself, the remainder of the day, with several alterations I intended to make 5 in it. For, though the situation was very delightful, I neither liked the front of the house, nor the avenues that led to it. We were, indeed, so confident of success that I found most of my fellow -soldiers were taken up w^ith imaginations of the same nature. There hadio like to have been a duel between two of our subalterns upon a dispute which of them should be governor of Portsmouth. A Popish priest, about the same time, gave great offense to a Northumberland squire, whom he threatened to excommunicate, if he did not give 15 up to him the church lands which his family had usurped ever since the Reformation. In short, every man had cut out a place for himself in his own thoughts; so that I could reckon up in our little army two or three lord treasurers, half a dozen secre- 20 taries of state, and at least a score of lords justices in Eyre, for each side of the Trent. We pursued our march through several villages, which we drank dry, making proclamation at our entrance, in the name of James the Third, against all concealments of ale and 25 brandy. Being very much fatigued with the action of a whole week, it was agreed to rest on Sunday, when we heard a most excellent sermon. Our chaplain insisted principally upon two heads. Under the first he proved to us that the breach of public oaths is no 30 MEMOIES OF A PEESTON EEBEL 95 perjury; and under the second, expounded to us the nature of non-resistance ; which might be interpreted from the Hebrew to signify either loyalty or rebellion, according as his sovereign bestowed his favors and 5 preferments. He concluded with exhorting us, in a most pathetic manner, to purge the land by whole- some severities, and to propagate sound principles by fire and sword. We set forward the next day toward our friends at Kelso; but, by the way, had like to 10 have lost our general and some of our most active officers. For a fox, unluckily crossing the road, drew off a considerable detachment, v/ho clapped spurs to their horses and pursued him with whoops and halloos till we had lost sight of them. A covey of 15 partridges, springing up in our front, put our infantry into disorder on the same day. It was not long after this that we w^ere joined by our friends from the other side of ^he Frith. Upon the junction of the two corps, our spies brought us word that they discovered 20 a great cloud of dust at some distance ; upon which we sent out a party to reconnoiter. They returned to us with intelligence that the dust was raised by a great drove of black cattle. The news was not a little welcome to us, the army of both nations being very 25 hungry. "We quickly formed ourselves and received orders for the attack, with positive instructions to give no quarter. Everything was executed with so much good order that we made a very plentiful supper. We had, three days after, the same success CO against a flock of sheep, which we were forced to eat 96 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE with great precipitation, having received advice of General Carpenter's march as we were at dinner. Upon this alarm, we made incredible stretches toward the south, with a design to gain the fastnesses of Preston. We did little remarkable in our way, except 5 setting fire to a few houses, and frightening an old woman into fits. We had now got a long day's march of the enemy; and meeting with a considerable refreshment of October, all the officers assembled over it, among whom were several Popish lords and gen-io tlemen, who toasted many loyal healths and confusions, and wept very plentifully for the danger of the church. We sat till midnight and at our parting resolved to give the enemy battle but, the next morn- ing, changed our resolutions and prosecuted our march is with indefatigable speed. We were no sooner arrived upon the frontiers of Cumberland but we saw a great body of militia drawn up in array against u^ Orders were given to halt; and a council of war was imme- diately called, wherein we agreed, with that great 20 unanimity which w^as so remarkable among us on these occasions, to make a retreat. But before we could give the word, the train bands, taking advantage ^ of our delay, fled first. We arrived at Preston without any memorable adventure ; where, after having 25 formed many barricades and prepared for a vigorous resistance, upon the approach of the king's troops, under General Wills, who was used to the outlandish wRy of making war, we thought it high time to put in practice that passive obedience in which our part}' 30 MEMOIES OF A PEESTON BEBEL 97 SO much glories, and which I would advise them to stick to for the future." Such was the end of this rebellion; which, in all probability, will not only tend to the safety of our 5 constitution, but the preservation of the game. V; X THE TOEY FOX HUNTEE [TJie FreeJiolder, No. 22. — Addison. March 5, 1715-16.] Studiis rudis, sermone barbarus, impetii streiiuus, manu promptus, cogitatioiie celer.i — Vellius Patere. For the honor of his IMajesty and the safety of his government we cannot bnt observe that those who have appeared the greatest enemies to both are of that rank of men w^ho are common^ distinguished by the title of fox hunters. As several of these have had 5 no part of their education in cities, camps, or courts, it is doubtful whether they are of greater ornament or use to the nation in which they live. It would be an everlasting reproach to politics, should such men be able to overturn an establishment wiiich has been lo formed by the wisest laws and is supported by the ablest heads. The wrong notions and prejudices w^hich cleave to many of these country gentlemen, who have always lived out of the way of being better informed, are not easy to be conceived b}^ a person i5 who has never conversed with them. That I may give my readers an image of these rural statesmen, I shall, wdthout further preface, set down an account of a discourse I chanced to have with one i^'Eude of education, barbarous of speech, vehement in opposition, quick of hand, and rash of thought." 98 THE TOEY FOX HUNTEE 99 of them some time ago. I was traveling toward one of the remotest parts of England, when, about three o'clock in the afternoon, seeing a country gentleman trotting before me with a spaniel by his horse's side, 5 1 made up to him. Our conversation opened, as usual, upon the weather, in which we were very unanimous; having both agreed that it was too dry for the season of the year. My fellow traveler, upon this, observed to me that there had been no good 10 weather since the Revolution. I was a little startled at so extraordinary a remark, but would not interrupt him until he proceeded to tell me of the fine weather they used to have in King Charles the Second's reign. I only answered that I did not see how the badness 15 of the weather could be the king 's fault ; and, without waiting for his reply, asked him whose house it was we saw upon a rising ground at a little distance from us. He told me it belonged to an old fanatical cur, Mr. Such-a-one. 20 "You must have heard of him," says he, ''he's one of the Rump." I knew the gentleman's character upon hearing his name, but assured him that to my knowledge he was a good churchman. 25 ''Ay," says he with a kind of surprise, "We were told in the country that he spoke twice in the queen's time against taking off the duties upon French claret. ' ' This naturally led us into the proceedings of late 30 parliaments, upon which occasion he affirmed roundly 100 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE that there had not been one good law passed since King "William's accession to the throne, except the act for preserving the game. I had a mind to see him out, and therefore did not care for contradicting him. ''Is it not hard," says he, ''that honest gentlemen 5 should be taken into custody of messengers to prevent them from acting according to their consciences? But," says he, "what can we expect when a parcel of factious sons of ." He was going on in great passion but chanced toio miss his dog, who was amusing himself about a bush that grew at some distance behind us. We stood still till he had whistled him up ; when he fell into a long panegyric upon his spaniel, who seemed indeed excel- lent in his kind; but I found the most remarkable 15 adventure of his life was that he had once like to have worried^ a dissenting teacher. The master could hardly sit on his horse for laughing all the while he was giving me the particulars of this story, which I found had mightily endeared his dog to him and, as he 20 himself told me, had made him a great favorite among all the honest gentlemen of the country. We were at length diverted from this piece of mirth by a post-boy, who, winding his horn at us, my companion gave him two or three curses and left the way clear for him. 25 "I fancy," said I, "that post brings news from Scotland. I shall long to see the next Gazette.^' "Sir," says he, "I make it a rule never to believe any of your printed news. We never see, sir, how 1 Once good English for ''came near worrying. '^ THE TOEY EOX HUNTER 101 things go, except now and then in 'Dyer's Letter,' and I read that more for the style than the news. The man has a clever pen, it must be owned. But is it not strange that we should be making war upon 5 Church of England men, with Dutch and Swiss sol- diers, men of anti-monarchical principles? These foreigners will never be loved in England, sir; they have not that wit and good breeding that we have." I must confess I did not expect to hear my new 10 acquaintance value himself upon these qualifications; but finding him such a critic upon foreigners, I asked him if he had ever traveled. He told me he did not know what traveling was good for, but to teach a man to ride the great horse, to jabber French, and 15 to talk against passive obedience. To which he added that he scarce ever knew a traveler in his life who had not forsook his principles and lost his hunting- seat. "For my part," says he, ''I and my father before 20 me have always been for passive obedience, and shall be always for opposing a prince who makes use of min- isters that are of another opinion. But where do you intend to inn tonight (for we were now come in sight of the next town) ? I can help you to a very good 25 landlord if you will go along with me. He is a lusty, jolly fellow, that lives well, at least three yards in the girth, and the best Church of England man upon the road. ' ' I had the curiosity to see this high-church inn- 30 keeper, as well as to enjoy more of the conversation 102 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE of my fellow-traveler, and therefore readily consented to set our horses together for that night. As we rode side by side through the town I was let into the characters of all the principal inhabitants whom we met in our way. One was a dog, another a whelp, 5 and another a cur, under which several denomina- tions were comprehended all that voted on the Whig side in the last election of burgesses. As for those of his own party, he distinguished them by a nod of his head and asking them how they did, by their lo Christian names. Upon our arrival at the inn, my companion fetched out the jolly landlord, who knew him by his whistle. Many endearments and private whispers passed between them; though it was easy to see by the landlord 's scratching his head that things is did not go to their wishes. The landlord had swelled his body to a prodigious size, and worked up his com- plexion to a standing crimson by his zeal for the pros- perity of the Church, which he expressed every hour of the day, as his customers dropped in, by repeated 20 bumpers. He had not time to go to church himself, but, as my friend told me in my ear, had headed a mob at the pulling down of two or three meeting- houses. While supper was preparing, he enlarged upon the happiness of the neighboring shire : ' ' For, ' ' 25 says he, "there is scarce a Presbyterian in the whole county, except the bishop. ' ' In short, I found by his discourse that he had learned a great deal of politics, but not one word of religion, from the parson of his parish : and, indeed, that he had scarce any other 30 THE TOEY FOX HUNTEE 103 notion of religion but that it consisted in hating Presbyterians. I had a remarkable instance of his notions in this particular. Upon seeing a poor, decrepit, old woman pass under the window where he 5 sat, he desired me to take notice of her ; and after- wards informed me that she was generally reputed a witch by the country people, but that, for his part, he was apt to believe she was a Presbyterian. Supper was no sooner served in than he took occa- losion, from a shoulder of mutton that lay before us, to cry up the plenty of England, which would be the happiest country in the world, provided we would live withiix ourselves„ Upon which, he expatiated on the inconveniences of trade, that carried from us the 15 commodities of our country, and made a parcel of upstarts as rich as men of the most ancient families of England. He then declared frankly that he had always been against all treaties and alliances with foreigners: "Our wooden walls," says he, "are our 20 security, and we may bid defiance to the whole world, especially if they should attack us when the militia is out." I ventured to reply that I had as great an opinion of the English fleet as he had; but I could not see how they could be paid, and manned, and 25 fitted out, unless we encouraged trade and navigation. He replied with some vehemence that he would under- take to prove trade would be the ruin of the English nation. I would fain have put him upon it; but he contented himself with affirming it more eagerly, to 30 which he added two or three curses upon the London 104 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE merchants, not forgetting the directors of the Bank. After supper he asked me if I was an admirer of punch ; and immediately called for a sneaker. I took this occasion to insinuate the advantages of trade, by observing to him that water was the only native of 5 England that could be made use of on this occasion ; but that the lemons, the brandy, the sugar, and the nutmeg were all foreigners. This put him into some confusion; but the landlord, who overheard me, brought him off, by affirming that for constant useio there was no liquor like a cup of English water, pro- vided it had malt enough in it. My Squire laughed heartily at the conceit and made the landlord sit down with us. We sat pretty late over our punch; and, amidst a great deal of improving iiscourse, drank the is healths of several persons in the country, whom I had never heard of, that, they both assured me, were the ablest statesmen in the nation; and of some Lon- doners, whom they extolled to the skies for their wit, and who, I knew, passed in town for silly fellows. 20 It now being midnight, and my friend perceiving by his almanac that the moon was up, he called for his horse and took a sudden resolution to go to his house, which was at three miles' distance from the town, after having bethought himself that he never slept 25 well out of his own bed. He shook me very heartily by the hand at parting, and discovered a great air of satisfaction in his looks that he had met with an • opportunity of showing his parts, and left me a much wiser man than he found me. so XI MEN OF riEE [The Tatler, No. 61:1. — Steele. Tuesday, Augut^t 30, 1709.] Quicquid agnnt homines nostri est farrago libelli.i — Juvenal. White's Chocolate House, August 29. Among many phrases which have crept into con- versation, especially of such company as frequent this place, there is not one which misleads men more than that of a ' ' Fellow of a great deal of fire. ' ' This meta- 5phorical term, Fire, has done much good in keeping coxcombs in awe of one another; but, at the same time, it has made them troublesome to every body else. You see in the very air of a "Fellow of Fire," something so expressive of what he would be at that 10 if it were not for self-preservation a man would laugh out. I had last night the fate to drink a bottle with two of these Firemen, who are indeed dispersed like the myrmidons in all quarters and to be met with among 15 those of the most different education. One of my companions was a scholar with Fire ; and the other 1 ' ' Whate 'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, Our motley paper seizes for its theme,'* 105 106 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE a soldier of the same complexion. ^ly learned man would fall into disputes and argue without any manner of provocation or contradiction : the other was decisive without words and would give a shrug or an oath to express his opinion. My learned man was a mere 5 scholar and my man 'of war as mere a soldier. The particularity of the first was ridiculous, that of the second, terrible. They were relations by blood, which in some measure moderated their extravagances toward each other : I gave myself up merely as a lo person of no note in the company; but as if brought to be convinced that I was an inconsiderable thing, any otherwise than that they would show each other to me and make me spectator of the triumph they alternately enjoyed. The scholar has been very con- 15 versant with books and the other with men only; which makes them both superficial: for the taste of books is necessary to our behavior in the best company and the knowledge of men is required for a true relish of books : but they have both Fire, which makes one 20 pass for a man of sense, the other for a fine gentleman I found I could easily enough pass my time with the scholar: for, if I seemed not to do justice to his parts and sentiments, he pitied me, and let me alone. But the warrior could not let it rest there; I must 25 know all that happened within his shallow observa- tions of the nature of the war : to all which he added an air of laziness, and contempt of those of his companions who were eminent for delighting in the exercise and knowledge of their duty. Thus it is that so . MEX OF FIKE 107 all the young fellows of much animal life and little understanding who repair to our armies usurp upon the conversation of reasonable men, under the notion of having Fire. 5 The word has not been of greater use to shallow lovers to supply them with chat to their mistresses than it has been to pretended men of pleasure to support them in being pert and dull and saying of every fool of their order, "Such a one has Fire." LO There is Colonel Truncheon, who marches with divisions ready on all occasions; a hero who never doubted in his life but is ever positively fixed in the wrong, not out of obstinate opinion, but invincible stupidity. 15 It is very unhappy for this latitude of London that it is possible for such as can learn only fashion, habit, and a set of common phrases of salutation, to pass with no other accomplishments, in this nation of freedom, for men of conversation and sense. All 20 these ought to pretend to is not to offend; but they carry it so far as to be negligent whether they offend or not ; ''for they have Fire." But their force dift'ers from true spirit as much as a vicious from a mettle- some horse. A man of Fire is a general enemy to 25 all the waiters where you drink; is the only man affronted at the company's being neglected; and makes the drawers abroad, his valet de cliamhre and footman at home, know he is not to be provoked without danger. so This is not the Fire that animates the noble 108 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE Marinus, a youth of good nature, affability, and mod- eration. He commands his ship as an intelligence moves its orb : he is the vital life and his officers the limbs of the machine. His vivacity is seen in doing all the offices of life with readiness of spirit and 5 propriety in the manner of doing them. To be ever active in laudable pursuits is the distinguishing char- acter of a man of merit; while the common behavior of every gay coxcomb of Fire is to be confidently in the Avrong and dare to persist in it. lo XII MAGNANIMITY OF MIND [The Spectator, No. 350.— Steele. Friday, April 11, 1712.'\ Ea animi elatio, quae cernitur in periculis ... si justitia vacat pugnatque . . . pro suis eommodis, in vitio est.i ■ — Cicero. Captain Sentry was last night at the Club, and produced a letter from Ipswich, which his corre- spondent desired him to communicate to his friend, the Bpectator. It contained an account of an engagement 5 between a French privateer, commanded by one Dominick Pottiere, and a little vessel of that place laden with corn, the master whereof, as I remember, was one Goodwin. The Englishman defended himself with incredible bravery, and beat off the French, after 10 having been boarded three or four times. The enemy still came on with greater fury, and hoped by his number of men to carry the prize; till at last the Englishman, finding himself sink apace, and ready to perish, struck: But the effect which this singular 15 gallantry had upon the captain of the privateer was no other than an unmanly desire of vengeance for the loss he had sustained in his several attacks. He told the Ipswich man in a speaking trumpet that he I'^That elation of mind wMeli is perceived in danger, if it proceeds from self-interest rather than justice, is vicious." 109 110 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE would not take him aboard ; and that he stayed to see him sink. The Englishman at the same time observed a disorder in the vessel, which he rightly judged to , proceed from the disdain which the ship's crew had • of their captain 's inhumanity : With this hope, he 5 went into his boat, and approached the enemy. He was taken in by the sailors in spite of their com- mander; but though they received him against his command, they treated him when he Avas in the ship in the manner he directed.^ Pottiere caused his menic to hold Goodwin while he beat him with a stick till he fainted with loss of blood, and rage of heart; after which he ordered him into irons, without allowing him any food but such as one or two of the men stole to him under peril of the like usage : After having kept ii him several days overwhelmed w^ith the misery of stench, hunger, and soreness, he brought him into Calais. The governor of the place was soon ac- quainted with all that had passed, dismissed Pottiere from his charge with ignominy, and gave Goodwin 2c all the relief which a man of honor would bestow upon an enemy barbarously treated, to recover the imputa- tion of cruelty upon his prince and country. When Mr. Sentry had read his letter, full of many other circumstances which aggravate the barbarity, 2e he fell into a sort of criticism upon magnanimity and courage, and argued that they were inseparable ; and that courage, without regard to justice and humanity, was no other than the fierceness of a wild beast. A 1 Note the confusion of pronouns here. MAGNANIMITY OF MIND HI good and truly bold spirit, continued he, is ever actu- ated by reason and a sense of honor and duty : The affectation of such a spirit exerts itself in an impu- dent aspect, an overbearing confidence, and a certain 5 negligence of g:iving offense. This is visible in all the cocking youths you see about this town, who are noisy in assemblies, unawed by the presence of wise and virtuous men; in a word, insensible of all the honors and decencies of humane life. A shameless 10 fellow takes advantage of merit clothed with modesty and magnanimity, and in the eyes of little people appears sprightly and agreeable; while the man of resolution and true gallantry is overlooked and dis- regarded, if not despised. There is a propriety in all 15 things ; and I believe what you scholars call just and sublime, in opposition to turgid and bombast, expres- sion may give you an idea of what I mean when I say modesty is the certain indication of a great spirit, and impudence the affectation of it. He that 20 vv-rites with judgment, and never rises into improper vrarmths, manifests the true force of genius; in like manner, he who is quiet and equal in all his behavior is supported in that deportment by what we may call true courage. Alas, it is not so easy a thing to be a 25 brave man as the unthinking part of mankind imag- ine: To dare is not all that there is in it. The pri- vateer we were just now talking of had boldness enough to attack his enemy, but not greatness of mind enough to admire the same quality exerted by that so enemy in defending himself. Thus his base and little 112 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE mind was wholly taken up in the sordid regard to the prize, of which he failed, and the damage done to his own vessel; and therefore he nsed an honest man, who defended his own from him, in the manner as he wonld a thief that should rob him. 5 He was equally disappointed, and had not spirit enough to consider that one case would be laudable, and the other criminal. Malice, rancor, hatred, venge- ance are what tear the breasts of mean men in fight ; but fame, glory, conquests, desires of opportunities toio pardon and oblige their opposers are what glow in the minds of the gallant. The captain ended his dis- course with a specimen of his book learning; and gave us to understand that he had read a French author on the subject of justness in point of gallantry. ''lis love," said Mr. Sentry, "a critic who mixes the rules of life with annotations upon writers. My author," added he, ^'in his discourse upon epic poems, takes occasion to speak of the same quality of courage drawn in the two different characters of Turnus and ^neas : 20 He makes courage the chief and greatest ornament of Turnus ; but in ^neas there are many others which outshine it, among the rest that of piety. Turnus is therefore all along painted by the poet full of ostenta- tion, his language haughty and vainglorious, as plac-25 ing his honor in the manifestation of his valor ; ^neas speaks little, is slow to action, and shows only a sort of defensive courage. - If equipage and address make Turnus appear more courageous than ^neas, conduct and success prove ^neas more valiant than Turnus. ' ' 30 XIII HORSE PLAY [The Tatler, No. 45, III. — Steele. Saturday, July 23, 1709.1 From my own Apartment, July 22. I am got hither safe, but never spent time with so little satisfaction as this evening ; for, you must know, I was five hours with three Merry, and two Honest, Fellows. The former sang catches; and the latter 5 even died with laughing at the noise they made. "Well," says Tom Bellfrey, "you scholars, Mr. Bickerstaff, are the worst company in the world." "Ay," says his opposite, "you are dull tonight; pr'ythee be merry." 10 "With that I huzzaed and took a jump cross the table, then came clever upon my legs, and fell a-laugh- ing. "Let Mr. Bickerstaff alone," saj^s one of the Honest Fellows; "when he is in a good humor, he is as good 15 company as any man in England." He had no sooner spoke but I snatched his hat off his head and clapped it upon my own and burst out a-laughing again; upon which we all fell a-laughing for half an hour. One of the Honest Fellows got 20 behind me in the interim and hit me a sound slap on the back; upon which he got the laugh out of my 113 114 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE hands ; and it was snch a twang on my shoulders that I confess he w^as much merrier than I. I was half angry ; but resolved to keep up the good humor of the company; and after hallooing as loud as I could possibly, I drank off a bumper of claret that made me 5 stare again. "Nay," says one of the Honest Fellows, ''Mr. Isaac is in the right ; there is no conversation in this ; what signifies jumping, or hitting one another on the back ? let us drink about." lo We did so from seven of the clock until eleven ; and now I am come hither and, after the manner of the wise Pj^thagoras, begin to reflect upon the passages of the day. I remember nothing but that I am bruised to death ; and as it is my way to write down all the 15 good things I have heard in the last conversation, to furnish my paper, I can from this only tell you my sufferings and my bangs. I named Pythagoras just now; and I protest to you, as he believed m^en after death entered into other 20 species, I am now and then tempted to think other animals enter into men and could name several on two legs that never discover any sentiments above what is common with the species of a lower kind; as we see in these bodily wits with whom I Avas tonight, 25 whose parts consist in strength and activity ; but their boisterous mirth gives me great impatience for the return of such happiness as I enjoyed in a conversa- tion last week. Among others in that company we had Plorio. who never interrupted any man living 30 HOESE PLAY 115 when he was speaking; or ever ceased to speak but others lamented that he had done. His discourse ever rises from the fullness of the matter before him and not from ostentation or triumph of his understand- 5ing; for though he seldom delivers what he need fear being repeated, he speaks without having that end in view ; and his forbearance of calumny or bitterness is owing rather to his good nature than his discretion; for which reason he is esteemed a gentleman perfectly 10 qualified for conversation, in whom a general good will to mankind takes off the necessity of caution and cir- cumspection. We had at the same time that evening the best sort of companion that can be ; a good-natured old man. 15 This person in the company of young men meets with veneration for his benevolence ; and is not only valued for the good qualities of which he is master but reaps an acceptance from the pardon he gives to other men 's faults: and the ingenuous sort of men with whom he 20 converses have so just a regard for him that he rather is an example than a check to their behavior. For this reason, as Senecio never pretends to be a man of pleasure before youth, so young men never set up for wisdom before Senecio ; so that you never meet where 25 he is those monsters of conversation who are grave or gay above their years. He never converses but with followers of nature and good sense, where all that is uttered is only the effect of a communicable temper, and not of emulation to excel their companions ; all 30 desire of superiority being a contradiction to that 116 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE spirit which makes a just conversation, the very essence of which is mntnal good will. Hence it is that I take it for a rule that the natural, and not the acquired man, is the companion. Learning, wit, gallantry, and good breeding are all but subordinate qualities in soci- 5 ety and are of no value but as they are subservient to benevolence and tend to a certain manner of being or appearing equal to the rest of the company; for conversation is composed of an assembly of men as they are men and not as they are distinguished 'byio fortune : therefore he who brings his quality with him into conversation should always pay the reckoning; for he came to receive homage and not to meet his friends. But the din about my ears from the clamor of the people I was with this evening has carried me 15 beyond my intended purpose, which was to explain upon the order of merry fellows; but I think I may pronounce of them, as I heard good Senecio, with a spice of the wit of the last age, say, viz., *'That a merrv fellow is the saddest fellow in the world. ' ' 20 XIV THE HONOE OF THE DUELIST [The Tatler, No. 25. — Steele. Tuesday, June 7, 1709,'] Quiequid agunt homines nostri est farrago libelli.i — Juvenal, White's Chocolate House, June 6. A letter from a young lady, written in the most passionate terms, wherein she laments the misfortune of a gentleman, her lover, who was lately wounded in a duel, has turned my thoughts to that subject and 5 inclined me to examine into the causes which precipi- tate men into so fatal a folly. And as it has been proposed to treat of subjects of gallantry in the article from hence and no one point in nature is more proper to be considered by the company who frequent this 10 place than that of duels, it is worth our consideration to examine into this chimerical, groundless humor and to lay every other thought aside, until we have stripped it of all its false pretenses to credit and repu- tation amongst men. 15 But I must confess, w^hen I consider what I am i^'Whate'er men do, or say, or think, or dream. Our motley paper seizes for its theme. '^ 117 118 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE going about, and run over in my imagination all the endless crowd of men of honor who will be offended at such a discourse, I am undertaking, methinks, a work w^orthy an invulnerable hero in romance, rather than a private gentleman with a single rapier : but 5 as I am pretty well acquainted by great opportunities with the nature of man and know of a truth that all men fight against their will, the danger vanishes and resolution rises upon this subject. For this reason, I shall talk very freely on a custom which all men wish lo exploded, though no man has courage enough to re- sist it. But there is one unintelligible word, which I fear will extremely perplex my dissertation and I confess to you I find very hard to explain, which is the term is ^'satisfaction." An honest country gentleman had the misfortune to fall into company with two or three modern men of honor, where he happened to be very ill-treated; and one of the company, being conscious of his offense, sends a note to him in the morning and 20 tells him he was ready to give him satisfaction. ' ' This is fine doing," says the plain fellow; "last night he sent me away cursedly out of humor, and this morning he fancies it would be a satisfaction to be run through the body." 25 As the matter at present stands, it is not to do hand- some actions denominates a man of honor ; it is enough if he dares to defend ill ones. Thus you often see a common sharper in competition with a gentleman of the first rank; though all mankind is convinced thatso THE HONOR OF THE DUELIST 119 a ■fighting gamester is only a pickpocket with the cour- age of a highwayman. One cannot with any patience reflect on the unaccountable jumble of persons and things in this town and nation, which occasions very 5 frequently that a brave man falls by a hand below that of a common hangman and yet his executioner escapes the clutches of the hangman for doing it. I shall, therefore, hereafter consider how the bravest men in other ages and nations have behaved themselves 10 upon such incidents as we decide by combat; and show, from their practice, that this resentment neither has its foundation from true reason or solid fame ;^ but is an imposture, made of cowardice, falsehood, and want of understanding. For this work, a good history 15 of quarrels would be very edifying to the public and I apply myself to the town for particulars and cir- cumstances within their knowledge which may serve to embellish the dissertation with proper cuts. Most of the quarrels I have ever known have proceeded 20 from some valiant coxcomb 's persisting in the wrong, to defend some prevailing folly and preserve himself from the ingenuousness of owning a mistake. By this means it is called "giving a man satisfac- tion," to urge your offense against him with your 25 sword ; which puts me in mind of Peter 's order to the keeper in The Tale of a Tub: "if you neglect to do all this, damn you and your generation for ever : and so we bid you heartily farewell. ' ' If the contradiction 1 Hasty English for ' ' has no foundation either from true reason or solid fame. ' ' 120 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE in the very terms of one of our challenges were as well explained and turned into downright English, would it not run after this manner? '^Sir: "Tour extraordinary behavior last night and the 5 liberty you were pleased to take with me makes me this morning give you this, to tell you, because you are an ill-bred puppy, I will meet you in Hyde Park an hour hence ; and because you want both breeding and humanity, I desire you would come with a pistol lo in your hand, on horseback, and endeavor to shoot me through the head, to teach you more manners. If you fail of doing me this pleasure. I shall say you are a rascal on every post in town : and so, sir, if you will not injure me more, I shall never forgive what you is have done already. Pray, sir, do not fail of getting everything ready; and you will infinitely oblige, Sir, Your most obedient humble servant, etc." XV IN A HOME CIRCLE [The Tailer, No. 95.— Steele. Thursday, November 17, 1709.] Interea dukes pendent circum oscula nati, Casta pudicitiam servat domus.i — Virgil. From my own Apartment, November 16. There are several persons who have many pleasures and entertainments in their possession which they do not enjoy. It is therefore a good and kind office to acquaint them with their own happiness, and turn 5 their attention to such instances of their good fortune as they are apt to overlook. Persons in the married state often want such a monitor ; and pine away their days by looking upon the same condition in anguish and nnirmur which carries with it, in the opinion of loothers. a complication of all the pleasures of life and a retreat from its inquietudes. I am led into this thought by a visit I made an old 1 ' ' His cares are eased with intervals of bliss, His little children, climbing for a kiss, Welcome their father's late return at night; His faithful bed is crowned with chaste delight." — John Dryden. 121 122 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE friend who was formerly my schoolfellow. He came to town last week with his family for the winter and yesterday morning sent me word his wife expected me to dinner. I am, as it were, at hom.e at that house and every member of it knows me for their well-wisher. 5 I cannot indeed express the pleasure it is to be met by the children with so much joy as I am when I go thither. The boys and girls strive who shall come first, when they think it is I that am knocking at the door ; and that child which loses the race to me runs 10 back again to tell the father it is Mr. Bickerstaff. This day I was led in by a pretty girl that we all thought must have forgot me ; for the family has been out of town these two years. Her knowing me again was a mighty subject with us and took up our dis-15 course at the first entrance. After which, they began to rally me upon a thousand little stories they heard in the country about my marriage to one of my neigh- bor's daughters. Upon which the gentleman, my friend, said : 20 "Nay, if Mr. Bickerstaff marries a child of any of his old companions, I hope mine shall have the prefer- ence; there is ]\Irs. Mary is now sixteen and would make him as fine a widow as the best of them. But I know him too well ; he is so enamored with the very 25 memory of those who flourished in our youth that he will not so much as look upon the modern beauties. I remember, old gentleman, how often you went home in a day to refresh your countenance and dress when Teraminta reigned in your heart. As we came up inso IN A HOME CIECLE 123 the coach, I repeated to my wife some of your verses on her." With such reflections on little passages which hap- pened long ago, we passed our time during a cheerful sand elegant meal. After dinner, his lady left the room, as did also the children. As soon as we were alone, he took me by the hand. "Well, my good friend," says he, "I am heartily glad to see thee; I was afraid you would never have seen all the com- lopany that dined with you today again. Do not you think the good woman of the house a little altered since you followed her from the playhouse to find out who she was for me?" I perceived a tear fall down his cheek as he spoke, 15 which moved me not a little. But, to turn the dis- course, I said, "She is not indeed quite that creature she was, when she returned me the letter I carried from you ; and told me ' she hoped, as I was a gentle- man, I would be employed no more to trouble her, who 20 had never offended me ; but would be so much the gen- tleman 's friend as to dissuade him from a pursuit which he could never succeed in. ' You may remember I thought her in earnest ; and you were forced to em- ploy your cousin Will, who made his sister get ac- 25quainted with her for you. You cannot expect her to be for ever fifteen. ' ' "Fifteen!" replied my good friend: "Ah! you little understand, you that have lived a bachelor, how great, how exquisite a pleasure there is in being really 30 beloved ! It is impossible that the most beauteous face 124 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AnD STEELE in nature should raise in me such pleasing ideas as when I look upon that excellent woman. That fading in her countenance is chiefly caused by her watching with me in my fever. This was followed by a fit of sick- ness, which had like to have carried her off^ last win- 5 ter. I tell you sincerely I have so many obligations to her that I cannot with any sort of moderation think of her present state of health. But as to what you say of fifteen, she gives me every day pleasures beyond what I ever knew in the possession of her beauty, when lo I was in the vigor of youth. Every moment of her life brings me fresh instances of her complacency to my inclinations and her prudence in regard to my for- tune. Her face is to me much more beautiful than when I first saw it; there is no decay in any feature is which I cannot trace from the very instant it was occasioned by some anxious concern for my welfare and interests. Thus, at the same time, methinks, the love I conceived toward her for what she was is heightened by my gratitude for what she is. The love 20 of a wife is as much above the idle passion commonly called by that name as the loud laughter of buffoons is inferior to the elegant mirth of gentlemen. Oh ! she is an inestimable jewel. In her examination of her household affairs, she shows a certain f earfulness 25 to find a fault which makes her servants obey her like children ; and the meanest we have has an ingenuous shame for an offense not always to be seen in children ^ * * Came near carrying her off. ' ' Steele 's expression is no longer good English. IN A HOME CIECLE 125 in other families. I speak freely to you, my old friend ; ever since her sickness, things that gave me the quick- est joy before turn now to a certain anxiety. As the children play in the next room, I know the poor things 5 by their steps and am considering what they must do should they lose their mother in their tender years. The pleasure I used to take in telling my boy stories of battles and asking my girl questions about the dis- posal of her baby and the gossiping of it is turned into 10 inward reflection and melancholj^ ' ' He would have gone on in this tender way when the good lady entered and, with an inexpressible sweet- ness in her countenance, told us she had been search- ing her closet for something very good to treat such 15 an old friend as I was. Her husband 's eyes sparkled with pleasure at the cheerfulness of her countenance ; and I saw all his fears vanish in an instant. The lady, observing something in our looks which showed we had been more serious than ordinary and seeing her 20 husband receive her wdth great concern under a forced cheerfulness, immediately guessed at what we had been talking of; and, applying herself to me, said, with a smile, "Mr. Bickerstaff, do not believe a word of what he tells you ; I shall still live to have you for 25 my second, as I have often promised you, unless he takes more care of himself than he has done since his coming to town. You must know he tells me that he finds London is a much more healthy place than the country; for he sees several of his old acquaintance 30 and schoolfellows are here young fellows wdth fair 126 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE full-bottomed periwigs. I could scarce keep him this morning from going out open-breasted." My friend, who is always extremely delighted with her agreeable humor, made her sit down with us. She did it with that easiness which is peculiar to women 5 of sense ; and, to keep up the good humor she had brought in with her, turned her raillery upon me. * ' Mr. Bickerstaff , you remember you followed me one night from the playhouse ; suppose you should carry ^ me thither tomorrow night and lead me into the front lo box." This put us into a long field of discourse about the beauties who were mothers to the present and shined^ in the boxes twenty years ago. I told her, ' ' I was glad she had transferred so many of her charms and I did is not question but her eldest daughter was within half a year of being a toast. ' ' We were pleasing ourselves with this fantastical preferment of the young lady, when on a sudden Ave were alarmed with the noise of a drum and imme- 20 diately entered my little godson to give me a point of war. His mother, between laughing and chiding, would have put him out of the room; but I would not part with him so. I found upon conversation with him, though he was a little noisy in his mirth, 25 that the child had excellent parts and was a great master of all the learning on the other side eight years old. I perceived him a very great historian in M sop's Fables: but he frankly declared to me his 1 Shone. IN A HOME CIECLE 127 mind, 'that he did not delight in that learning, be- cause he did not believe they were true;' for which reason I found he had very much turned his studies, for about a twelvemonth past, into the lives and ad- 5 ventures of Don Belianis of Greece, Guy of Warwick, the Seven Champions, and other historians of that age. I could not but observe the satisfaction the father took in the forwardness of his son; and, that these diver- sions might turn to some profit, I found the boy had 10 made remarks, which might be of service to him during the course of his whole life. He would tell you the mismanagements of John Hickerthrift, find fault with the passionate temper in Bevis of South- ampton, and loved Saint George for being the cham- ispion of England; and by this means had his thoughts insensibly molded into the notions of discretion, vir- tue, and honor. I was extolling his accomplishments, when the mother told me, that the little girl who led me in this morning, was, in her way, a better 20 scholar than he. "Betty," said she, ''deals chiefly in fairies and sprites, and sometimes in a winter night will terrify the maids with her accounts, until they are afraid to go up to bed." I sat with them until it was very late, sometimes 25 in merry, sometimes in serious discourse, with this particular pleasure, which gives the only true relish to all conversation, a sense that every one of us liked each other. ^ I went home, considering the different conditions of a married life and that of a bachelor; ^ Every one of us liked all the rest. 128 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE and I must confess it struck me with a secret concern to reflect that whenever I go off I shall leave no traces behind me. -In this pensive mood I returned to my family ; that is to say, to my maid, my dog, and my cat, who only can be the better or worse for what happens 5 to me. XYI IN ANOTHER HOME CIRCLE [The Tatler, No. 150.— Steele. Saturday, March 25, 1710.] Haec sunt jucundi causa, cibusque mali.i — Ovid. From my own Apartment, March 24. I have received the following letter upon the sub- ject of my last paper. The writer of it tells me I there spoke of marriage as one that knows it only by specu- lation and for that reason he sends me his sense of it, 5 as drawn from experience : ''Mr. Bicker staff,— ' ' I have received your paper of this day and think you have done the nuptial state a great deal of justice in the authority you give us of Pliny, whose letters 10 to his wife you have there translated. But give me leave to tell you that it is impossible for you, that are a bachelor, to have so just a notion of this way of life as to touch the affections of your readers in a par- ticular wherein every man's own heart suggests more 15 than the nicest observer can form to himself without experience. I, therefore, w^ho am an old married man, 1 ^ ( 'Tis this that causes and foments the evil And gives us pleasure mixed with pain." — B,. Wynne. 129 130 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE have sat down to give you an account of the matter from my own knowledge and the observations which I have made upon the conduct of others in that most agreeable or wretch'ed condition. * ' It is very commonly observed that the most smart 5 pangs which we meet with are in the beginning of wedlock, which proceed from ignorance of each other's humor and want of prudence to make allow- ances for a change from the most careful respect to the most unbounded familiarity. Hence it arises that 10 trifles are commonly occasions of the greatest anxiety ; for contradiction being a thing wholly unusual be- tween a new-married couple, the smallest instance of it is taken for the highest injury ; and it very seldom happens that the man is slow enough in assuming the is character of a husband or the woman quick enough in condescending to that of a wife. It immediately follows that they think they have all the time of their courtship been talking in masks to each other and therefore begin to act like disappointed people. Phi- 20 lander finds Delia ill-natured and impertinent and Delia, Philander surly and inconstant. ''I have known a fond couple quarrel in the very honeymoon about cutting up a tart : nay, I could name two who, after having had seven children, fell out 25 upon the boiling of a leg of mutton. My very next neighbors have not spoke to one another these three days, because they difiPered in their opinions whether the clock should stand by the window or over the chimney. It may seem strange to you, who are not a so IN ANOTHER HOME CIECLE 131 married man, when I tell you liow the least trifle can strike a woman dumb for a week together. But, if you ever enter into this state, you will find that the soft sex as often express their anger by an obstinate 5 silence as by an ungovernable clamor, ' ' Those indeed who begin this course of life without jars at their setting out arrive within few months^ at a pitch of benevolence and affection of which the most perfect friendship is but a faint resemblance. 10 As in the unfortunate marriage, the most minute and indifferent things are objects of the sharpest resent- ment; so in a happy one, they are occasions of the most exquisite satisfaction. For, what does not oblige in one we love? What does not offend in one we dis- 15 like? For these reasons I take it for a rule that in. marriage the chief business is to acquire a preposses- sion in favor of each other. They should consider one another's words and actions with a secret indulgence^ There should be always an inward fondness pleading- 20 for each other, such as may add new beauties to every thing that is excellent, give charms to what is indiffer- ent, and cover every thing that is defective. For want of this kind propensity and bias of mind, the married pair often take things ill of each other which no one 25 else would take notice of in either of them. ; "But the most unhappy circumstance of all is where each party is always laying up fuel for dissension and gathering together a magazine of provocations to exas- perate each other with when they are out of humor. 1 Within a few months. s, 132 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE These people, in common discourse, make no scruple to let those who are by know they are quarreling with one another; and think they are discreet enough, if they conceal from the company the matters which they are hinting at. About a w^eek ago, I was enter- 5 tained for a whole dinner with a mysterious conver- sation of this nature : out of which I could learn no more than that the husband and wife were an^ry at one another. AVe had no sooner sat down but says the gentleman of the house, in order to raise discourse, 10 ' I thought Margarita sung, extremely well last night. ' "Upon this, says the lady, looking as pale as ashes, 'I suppose she had cherry-colored ribbons on.' '' 'No,' answered the husband, with a flush in his face, 'but she had laced shoes.' 15 "I look upon it that a stander-by on such occasions has as much' reason to be out of countenance as either of the combatants. To turn off my confusion and seem regardless of what had passed, I desired the servant who attended to give me the vinegar, which 20 unluckily created a new dialogue of hints ; for, as far as I could gather by the subsequent discourse, they had dissented the day before about the preference of elder to wine vinegar. In the midst of their discourse, there appeared a dish of chicken and asparagus, when 25 the husband seemed disposed to lay aside all disputes ; and, looking upon her with a great deal of good nature, said, 'Pray, my dear, will you help my friend to a wing of the fowl that lies next you, for I think it looks extremely well.' so IN ANOTHEB HOME CIECLE 133 ''The lady, instead of answering him, addressing herself to me, 'Pray, sir,' said she, 'do you in Surrey reckon the white or the black-legged fowls the best?' ' ' I found the husband change color at the question ; 5 and before I could answer, asked me,^ 'Whether we did not call hops broom in our country?' "I quickly found they did not ask questions so much out of curiosity as anger: for which reason I thought fit to keep my opinion to myself and, as an 10 honest man ought, when he sees two friends in warmth with each other, I took the first opportunity I could to leave them by themselves. "You see, sir, I have laid before you only small incidents, which are seemingly frivolous: but take it 15 from a m.an very well experienced in this state, they are principally evils of this nature which make mar- riages unhappy. At the same time, that I may do justice to this excellent institution, I must ovni to you there are unspeakable pleasures which are as little 20 regarded in the computation of the advantages of marriage as the others are in the usual survey that is made of its misfortunes. "Lovemore and his wife live together in the happy possession of each other's hearts and, by that means, 25 have no indifferent moments but their whole life is one continued scene of delight. Their passion for each other communicates a certain satisfaction, like that which they themselves are in, to all that approach them. "When she enters the place where he is, you i AsTced me should be ''he asked me." 134 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE see a pleasure which he cannot conceal, nor he, or any- one else, describe. In so consummate an affection, the very presence of the person beloved has the effect of the most agreeable conversation. Whether they have matter to talk of or not, they enjoy the pleasures of 5 society and at the same time the freedom of solitude. Their ordinary life is to be preferred to the happiest moments of other lovers. In a word, they have each of them great merit, live in the esteem of all who know them, and seem but to comply with the opinions of lo their friends, in the just value they have for each other/' XVII SEKVANTS [The Spectator, No. 137. — Steele. Tuesday, August 7, 1711.] At haec etiam servis semper libera fuerunt, timerent, gauderent, dolerent, suo potius quam alterius arbitrio.i — Cicero. It is no small concern to me that I find so many complaints from that part of mankind whose portion it is to live in servitude that those whom they depend upon will not allow them to be even as happy as 5 their condition will admit of. There are, as these unhappy correspondents inform me, masters who are offended at a cheerful countenance, and think a serv- ant is broke loose from them, if he does not preserve the utmost awe in their presence. There is one who 10 says, if he looks satisfied, his master asks him what makes him so pert this morning; if a little sour, "Hark ye, sirrah, are not you paid your wages?" The poor creatures live in the most extreme misery together. The master knows not how to preserve 15 respect, nor the servant how to give it. It seems this person is of so sullen a nature that he knows but I'^Even slaves were always at liberty to fear, rejoice, and grieve at their own rather than another's pleasure." 135 136 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE little satisfaction in the midst of a plentiful fortune, and secretly frets to see any appearance of content in one that lives upon the hundredth part of his income, who is unhappy in the possession of the whole. Uneasy persons, who cannot possess their ov^^n 5 minds, vent their spleen upon all who depend upon them ; which, I think, is expressed in a lively manner in the following letters. ''August 2, 1711. ' Sir, 10 '*I have read your Spectator of the 3d of the last month, and wish I had the happiness of being pre- ferred to serve so good a master as Sir Koger. The character of my master is the very reverse of that good and gentle knight 's. All his directions are given, 15 and his mind revealed by way of contraries : As when any thing is to be remembered, with a peculiar cast of face, he cries, ' Be sure to forget now. ' If I am to make haste back, 'Don't come these two hours; be sure to call by the way upon some of your compan-20 ions.' Then another excellent way of his is, if he sets me any thing to do which he knows must neces- sarily take up half a day, he calls ten times in a quar- ter of an hour to know whether I have done yet. This is his manner, and the same perverseness runs through 25 all his actions, according as the circumstances varj^ Besides all this, he is so suspicious that he submits himself to the drudgery of a spy. He is as unhappy himself as he makes his servants. He is constantly watching us, and we differ no more in pleasure and 30 SERVANTS 137 liberty than as a jailer and a prisoner. He lays traps for faults, and no sooner makes a discovery but falls into such language as I am more ashamed of for com- ing from him than for being directed to me. This, 5 sir, is a short sketch of a master I have served up- wards of nine years ; and though I have never wronged him, I confess my despair of pleasing him has very much abated my endeavor to do it. If you will give me leave to steal a sentence out of my master's Clar- 10 endon, I shall tell you my case in a word, 'Being used worse than I deserved, I cared less to deserve well than I had done.' I am, ^'Sir, "Your humble servant, 15 ''RxVLPH Yalet." ''Dear Mr. Specter, "I am the next thing to a lady's woman, and am under both my lady and her woman. I am so used by them both that I should be very glad to see them 20 in the Specter. My lady herself is of no mind in the world, and for that reason her woman is of twenty minds in a moment. My lady is one that never knows what to do with herself; she pulls on and puts off every thing she wears twenty times before she resolves 25 upon it for that day. I stand at one end of the room, and reach things to her woman. Wlien my lady asks for a thing, I hear and have half brought it, when the woman meets me in the middle of the room to receive it, and, at that instant, she says, ' No ! she will 30 not have it.' Then I go back, and her woman comes 138 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE up to her, and by this time she will have that, and two or three things more in an instant: The woman and I run to each other; I am loaded and delivering the things to her when my lady says she wants none of. all these things, and we are the dullest creatures 5 in the world, and she the unhappiest woman living, for she shan 't be dressed in any time. Thus we stand not knowing what to do, when our good lady with all the patience in the world tells us as plain as she can speak that she will have temper because we have no lo manner of understanding, and begins again to dress, and see if we can find out of ourselves what we are to do. When she is dressed she goes to dinner, and after she has disliked every thing there, she calls for the coach, then commands it in again, and then she is will not go out at all, and then will go, too, and orders the chariot. Now, good Mr. Specter, I desire you would, in the behalf of all who serve froward ladies, give out in your paper that nothing can be done with- out allowing time for it, and that one cannot be back 20 again with what one was sent for if one is called back before one can go a step for that they want. And if you please let them know that all mistresses are as like as all servants. I am, ''Your loving friend, 25 "Patience Giddy." These are great calamities ; but I met the other day in the five fields toward Chelsea, a pleasanter tyrant than either of the above represented. A fat fellow was puffing on in his open waistcoat ; a boy of fourteen so SEEVANTS 139 in a livery carrying after him liis cloak, upper coat, hat, wig, and sword. The poor lad was ready to sink with the weight, and could not keep up with his mas- ter, who turned back every half furlong, and won- 5 dered what made the lazy young dog lag behind. There is something very unaccountable that people cannot put themselves in the condition of the persons below them when they consider the commands they give. But there is nothing more common than to 10 see a fellow (who, if he were reduced to it, would not be hired by any man living) lament that he is troubled with the most worthless dogs in nature. It would, perhaps, be running too far out of com- mon life to urge that he who is not master of himself 15 and his own passions cannot be a proper master of another. Equanimity in a man's own words and actions will easily diffuse itself through his whole family. Pamphilio has the happiest household of any man I know, and that proceeds from the human re- 20 gard he has to them in their private persons as well as in respect that they are his servants. If there be any occasion wherein they may in themselves be sup- posed to be unfit to attend their master's concerns, by reason of any attention to their own, he is so good 25 as to place himself in their condition. I thought it very becoming in him when, at dinner, the other day, he made an apology for want of more attendants. He said, "One of my footmen is gone to the wedding of his sister, and the other I don 't expect to wait, because 30 his father died but two days ago. ' ' XYIII A FILIAL DAUGHTEE [From The Spectator, No. 466. — Steele. Monday, August 25, 1712.1 ''Mr. Spectator, ''I am a widower with but one daughter; she was by nature much inclined to be a romp, and I had no way of educating her but commanding a young woman, whom I entertained to take care of her, to be very 5 watchful in her care and attendance about her. I am a man of business, and obliged to be much abroad. The neighbors have told me that in my absence our maid has let in the spruce servants in the neighbor- hood to junketings, while my girl played and romped, 10 even in the street. To tell you the plain truth, I catched her once, at eleven years old, at chuck- farthing among the boys. This put me upon new thoughts about my child, and I determined to place her at a boarding-school, and at the same time gave 15 a very discreet young gentlewoman her maintenance, at the same place and rate, to be her companion. I took little notice of my girl from time to time, but saw her now and then in good health, out of harm's way, and w^as satisfied. But by much importunity, 1 20 was lately prevailed with to go to one of their balls. 140 A FILIAL DAUGHTER 141 I cannot express to you the anxiety my silly heart was in, when I saw my romp, now fifteen, taken out: I never felt the pangs of a father upon me so strongly in my whole life before ; and I could not have suffered 5 more, had my whole fortune been at stake. My girl came on with the most becoming modesty I had ever seen, and casting a respectful eye,^ as if she feared me more than all the audience, I gave a nod, which, I think, gave her all the spirit she assumed upon it, 10 but she rose properly to that dignity of aspect. My romp, now the most graceful person of her sex, as- sumed a majesty which commanded the highest re- spect; and when she turned to me, and saw my face in rapture, she fell into the prettiest smile, and I 15 saw in all her motion that she exulted in her father 's satisfaction. You, Mr. Spectator, will, better than I can tell you, imagine to yourself all the different beauties and changes of aspect in an accomplished young w^oman, setting forth all her beauties with a 20 design to please no one so much as her father. My girl's lover can never know half the satisfaction that I did in her that day. I could not possibly have imagined that so great improvement could have been wrought by an art that I always held in itself ridicu- 25I0US and contemptible. There is, I am convinced, no method like this to give young women a sense of their own value and dignity ; and I am sure there can be none so expeditious to communicate that value to others. As for the flippant, insipidly gay, and wan- 1 An ungrammatieal use of the participial phrase. 142 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE tonly forward, whom you behold among dancers, that carriage is more to be attributed to the perverse genius of the performers than imputed to the art itself. For my part, my child has danced herself into my esteem, and I have as great an honor for her 5 as ever I had for her mother, from whom she derived those latent good qualities which appeared in her countenance, when she was dancing; for my ^irl, though I say it myself, showed, in one-quarter of an hour, the innate principles of a modest virgin, a ten- 10 der wife, a generous friend, a kind mother, and an indulgent mistress. I'll strain hard, but I will pur- chase for her an husband suitable to her merit. I am your convert in the admiration of what I thought you jested when you recommended^ ; and if you please 15 to be at my house on Thursday next, I make a ball for my daughter, and you shall see her dance, or, if you will do her that honor, dance with her, ''I am. sir, ^'Your most humble servant, 20 Philipater. ' ' 1 Awkward Englisli for ''Of what I thought you jested of when you recommended it.'' XIX THE CHAEM OF WOMAN [The Spectator, No. 306. — Steele. Wednesday, February 20 , 1711-12.] Quae forma, ut se tibi semper Imputet? 1 — Juvenal. *'Mr. Spectator: "I write this to communicate to you a misfortune which frequently happens, and therefore deserves a consolatory discourse on the subject. I was within 5 this half-year in the possession of as much beauty and as many lovers as any young lady in England. But my admirers have left me, and I cannot com- plain of their behavior. I have within that time had the smallpox; and this face, which (according to 10 many amorous epistles which I have by me) was the seat of all that is beautiful in woman, is now disfig- ured with scars. It goes to the very soul of me to speak what I really think of my face; and though I think I did not overrate my beauty while I had it, 15 it has extremely advanced in its value with me now 1 ' ' What dignity of deportment, what beauty, can compen- sate for your wife's always throwing her own worth in your teeth ? ' ' — Lewis Evans. 143 144 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE it is lost. There is one circumstance which makes my case very particular ; the ugliest fellow that ever pre- tended to me was, and is most in my favor, and he treats me at present the most unreasonably. If you could make him return an obligation which he owes 5 me, in liking a person that is not amiable^; But there is, I fear, no possibility of making passion move by the rules of reason and gratitude. But say what you can to one who has survived herself, and knows not how to act in a new being. My lovers are at the lo feet of my rivals, my rivals are every day bewailing me, and I cannot enjoy what I am, by reason of the distracting reflection upon what I was. Consider the woman I was did not die of old age, but I was taken off in the prime of my youth, and according to the 15 course of nature may have forty years after-life to come. I have nothing of myself left which I like, but that *^I am, Sir, "Your most humble servant, 20 "Parthenissa. " When Lewis of France had lost the battle of Ra- millies, the addresses to him at that time were full of his fortitude, and they turned his misfortune to his glory; in that, during his prosperity, he could 25 never have manifested his heroic constancy under distresses, and so the world had lost the most eminent part of his character. Parthenissa 's condition gives ^A personal appearance that is not attractive. THE CHAEM OF WOMAN 145 her the same opportunity ; and to resign conquests is a task as difficult in a beauty as an hero. In the very entrance upon this work she must burn all her love letters; or, since she is so candid as not to call her 5 lovers, who follow her no longer, unfaithful, it would be a very good beginning of a new life from that of a beauty to send them back to those who writ them, with this honest inscription. Articles of a Marriage Treaty Broken Off by the Smallpox. I have known 10 but one instance where a matter of this kind went on after a like misfortune; where the lady, who was a woman of spirit, writ this billet to her lover : ^'Sir, If you flattered me before I had this terrible mai- ls ady, pray come and see me now. But if you sincerely liked me, stay away; for I am not the same CORINNA. ' ' The lover thought there was something so sprightly in her behavior that he answered: 20 ' ' Madam, I am not obliged, since you are not the same woman, to let you know whether I flattered you or not; but I assure you I do not, when I tell you I now like you above all your sex and hope you will bear 25 what may befall me when we are both one as well as you do what happens to yourself now you are single ; therefore I am ready to take such a spirit for my companion as soon as you please. Amilcar/' If Parthenissa can now possess her own mind, and 146 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE think as little of her beauty as she ought to have done when she had it, there will be no great diminu- tion of her charms; and if she was formerly affected too much with them, an easy behavior will more than make up for the loss of them. Take the whole sex 5 together, and you find those who have the strongest possession of men's hearts are not eminent for their beauty) You see it often happen that those who en- gage men to the greatest • violence are such as those who are strangers to them would take to be remark- lo ably defective for that end. The fondest lover I know said to me one day in a crowd of women at an entertainment of music: "You have often heard me talk of my beloved; that woman there," continued he, smiling when he had fixed my eye, "is her very 15 picture." The lady he showed me was by much the least remarkable for beauty of any in the whole as- sembly; but, having my curiosity extremely raised, I could not keep my eyes off of her. Her eyes at last met mine, and with a sudden surprise she looked 20 round her to see who near her was remarkably handsome that I was gazing at. This little act ex- plained the secret: She did not understand herself for the object of love, and therefore she was so. The lover is a very honest plain man ; and what charmed 25 him was a person that goes along with him in the cares and joys of life, not taken up with herself, but sincerely attentive with a ready and cheerful mind to accompany him in either. I can tell Parthenissa for her comfort that the so THE CHAEM OF WOMAN 147 beauties, generally spealiing, are the most impertinent and disagreeable of women. An apparent desire of admiration, a reflection upon their own merit, and a precise behavior in their general conduct are almost 5 inseparable accidents in beauties. All you obtain of them is granted to importunity and solicitation for what did not deserve so much of your time, and you recover from the possession of it, as out of a dream. You are ashamed of the vagaries of fancy wiiich so 10 strangely misled you, and your admiration of a beauty, merely as such is inconsistent with a tolerable reflec- tion upon yourself. The cheerful, good-humored creatures, into whose heads it never entered that they could make any man unhappy, are the persons formed 15 for making men happy. There's Miss Liddy can dance a jig, raise paste, write a good hand, keep an account, give a reasonable answer, and do as she is bid, while her elder sister. Madam Martha, is out of humor, has the spleen, learns by reports of people of 20 higher quality new ways of being uneasy and dis- pleased. And this happens for no reason in the world but that poor Liddy knows she has no such thing as 'a certain negligence that is so becoming,' that there is not 'I know not what in her air.' And 25 that if she talks like a fool, there is no one will say, "Well! I know not what it is, but everything pleases when she speaks it. Ask any of the husbands of your great beauties, and they '11 tell you that they hate their wives nine hours so of every day they pass together. There is such a 148 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE particularity forever affected by them that they are encumbered with their charms in all they say or do. They pray at public devotions as they are beauties; they converse on ordinary occasions as they are beaii- ties. Ask Belinda what it is o 'clock, and she is at a 5 stand whether so great a beauty should answer you. In a word, I think instead of offering to administer consolation to Parthenissa, I should congratulate her metamorphosis; and however she thinks she was not in the least insolent in the prosperity of her charms, 10 she was enough so to find she may make herself a much more agreeable creature in her present adversity. The endeavor to please is highly promoted by a con- sciousness that the approbation of the person you would be agreeable to is a favor you do not deserve ; 15 for in this case assurance of success is the most certain way to disappointment. Good nature will always supply the absence of beauty, but beauty cannot long supply the absence of good nature. P. S. 20 *' Madam, - February 18. I have yours of this day, wherein you twice bid me not disoblige you, but you must explain yourself further before I know what to do. Your most obedient servant, 25 The Spectator." XX YAEICO AND INKLE [The Spectator, No. 11. — Steele. Thursday, March 13, 1711-lS.] Dat veniam eorvis, vesat censura columhas.i — Juvenal. Arietta is visited by all persons of both sexes who have any pretense to wit and gallantry. She is in that time of life which is neither affected with the follies of youth, or infirmities of age;- and her con- Bversation is so mixed with gayety and prudence that she is agreeable both to the young and the old. Her behavior is very frank, without being in the least blamable; and as she is out of the track of any amorous or ambitious pursuits of her own, her vis- loitants entertain her with accounts of themselves very freely, whether they concern their passions or their interests. I made her a visit this afternoon, having been formerly introduced to the honor of her acquaint- ance, by my friend Will Honeycomb, who has pre- 15 vailed upon her to admit me sometimes into her 1 ''Acquit the vultures and condemn the doves." — William Gifford. • A blunder for ' * affected neither with the follies of youth nor with the infirmities of age." 149 150 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE assembly, as a civil, inoffensive man. I found her accompanied with one person only, a commonplace talker, who, upon my entrance, rose, and after a very slight civility sat down again; then turning to Arietta, pursued his discourse, which I found was 5 upon the old topic of constancy in love. He went on with great facility in repeating what he talks every day of his life; and with the ornaments of insignificant laughs and gestures, enforced his argu- ments by quotations out of plays and songs, which lo allude to the perjuries of the fair, and the general levity of women. Methought he strove to shine more than ordinarily in his talkative way that he might insult my silence and distinguish himself before a woman of Arietta 's taste and understanding. She 15 had often an inclination to interrupt him, but could find no opportunity, till the larum ceased of itself; which it did not till he had repeated and murdered the celebrated story of the Ephesian Matron. Arietta seemed to regard this piece of raillery as 20 an outrage done to her sex; as indeed I have always observed that women, whether out of a nicer regard to their honor, or what other reason I cannot tell, are more sensibly touched wdth those general asper- sions which are cast upon their sex than men are by 25 what is said of theirs. When she had a little recovered herself from the serious anger she was in, she replied in the following manner. Sir, AA^hen I consider how perfectly new all you so YAEICO AND INKLE 151 have said on this subject is, and that the story you have given us is not quite two thousand years old, I cannot but think it a piece of presumption to dispute with you : but your quotations put me in mind of the 5 fable of the lion and the man. The man, walking with that noble animal, sho^ved him, in the ostentation of human superiority a sign of a man killing a lion. Upon which the lion said very justly. We lions are none of us painters, else we could show a hundred 10 men killed by lions, for one lion killed by a man. You men are writers and can represent us women as unbecoming as you please in your works, while we are unable to return the injury. You have twice or thrice observed in your discourse that hypocrisy is the very 15 foundation of our education ; and that an ability to dissemble our affections is a professed part of our breeding. These, and such other reflections, are sprinkled up and down the writings of all ages, by authors, who leave behind them memorials of their 20 resentment against the scorn of particular women in invectives against the whole sex. Such a writer, I doubt not, was the celebrated Petronius, who invented the pleasant aggravations of the frailty of the Ephesian lady; but when we consider this question 25 between the sexes, which has been either a point of dispute or raillery^ ever since there were men and women, let us take facts from plain people, and from such as have not either ambition or capacity to embel- lish their narrations with any beauties of imagination. 1 An error for ' ' a point either of dispute or of raillery. ' ' 152 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE I was the other day amusing myself with Ligon's account of Barbadoes; and, in answer to your well wrought tale, I will give you (as it dwells upon my memory) out of that honest traveler, in his fifty-fifth page, the history of Inkle and Yarico. • 5 ]\Ir. Thomas Inkle, of London, aged twenty years, embarked in the Downs, on the good ship called the Achilles, bound for the West Indies, on the 16th of June, 1647, in order to improve his fortune by trade and merchandise. Our adventurer was the third son lo of an eminent citizen, who had taken particular care to instill into his mind an early love of gain, by making him a perfect master of numbers, and conse- quently giving him a quick view of loss and advantage, and preventing the natural impulses of his passions, i5 by prepossession toward his interests. With a mind thus turned, young Inkle had a person every way agreeable, a ruddy vigor in his countenance, strength in his limbs, with ringlets of fair hair loosely flowing on his shoulders. It happened, in the course of the 20 voyage, that the Achilles, in some distress, put into a creek on the Main of America, in search of pro- visions. The youth, who is the hero of my story, among others, went ashore on this occasion. From their first landing they were observed by a party of 25 Indians, who hid themselves in the woods for that purpose. The English unadvisedly marched a great distance from the shore into the country, and were intercepted by the natives, who slew the greatest number of them. Our adventurer escaped among so YAEICO AND INKLE 153 others, by flying into a forest. Upon his coming into a remote and pathless part of the wood, he threw himself, tired and breathless, on a little hillock, when an Indian maid rushed from a thicket behind him: 5 After the first surprise they appeared mutually agree- able to each other. If the European was highly charmed with the features and wild graces of the naked American; the American was no less taken with the dress, complexion, and shape of an European, 10 covered from head to foot. The Indian grew imme- diately enamored of him, and consequently solicitous for his preservation : she therefore conveyed him to a cave, where she gave him a delicious repast of fruits, and led him to a stream to slake his thirst. In the 15 midst of these good offices, she would sometimes play with his hair, and delight in the opposition of its color to that of her fingers. She was, it seems, a person of distinction, for she every day came to him in a different dress, of the most beautiful shells, bugles, 20 and bredes. She likewise brought him a great many spoils, which her other lovers had presented to her; so that his cave was richly adorned with all the spotted skins of beasts, and most parti-colored feathers of fowls which that world afforded. To make his 25 confinement more tolerable, she would carry him in the dusk of the evening, or by the favor of moon- light, to unfrequented groves and solitudes, and show him. where to lie down in safety, and sleep amidst the falls of waters, and melody of nightingales. Her 30 part was to watch and hold him awake in her arms, 154 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE for fear of her countrymen, and awake him on occa- sions to consult his safety. In this manner did the lovers pass away their time, till they had learned a language of their own, in which the voyager commu- nicated to his mistress how happy he should be to 5 have her in his country, where she should be clothed in such silks as his waistcoat was made of, and be carried in houses drawn by horses, without being ex- posed to wind or weather. All this he promised her the enjoyment of, without such fears and alarms as lu they were there tormented with. In this tender corre- spondence these lovers lived for several months, when Yarico, instructed by her lover, discovered a vessel on the coast, to which she made signals; and in the night, with the utmost joy and satisfaction, accom-15 panied him to a ship 's crew of his countrymen, bound for Barbadoes. When a vessel from the main arrives in that island, it seems the planters come down to the shore, where there is an immediate market of the Indians and other slaves, as with us of horses and 20 oxen. To be short, Mr. Thomas Inkle, now coming into English territories, began seriously to reflect upon his loss of time, and to weigh with himself how many days' interest of his money he had lost during his 25 stay with Yarico. This thought made the young man very pensive, and careful what account he should be able to give his friends of his voyage. Upon which considerations, the prudent and frugal young man sold Yarico to a Barbadian merchant. 30 YAEICO AND INKLE 155 I was so touched with this story (which I think should be always a counterpart to the Ephesian Matron), that I left the room with tears in my eyes; which a woman of Arietta's good sense, did, I am 5 sure, take for greater applause than any compliments I could make her. XXI A SUPEESTITIOUS HOUSEHOLD [The Spectator, No. 7. — Addison. . Wednesday, March 8, 1710-11.'] Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas, Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala rides ? i — Horace. Going yesterday to dine with an old acquaintance, I had the misfortune to find his whole family very much dejected. Upon asking him the occasion of it, he told me that his wife had dreamt a very strange dream the night before, which they were afraid por-5 tended some misfortune to themselves or to their children. At her coming into the room, I observed a settled melancholy in her countenance, which I should have been troubled for, had I not heard from whence it proceeded. We were no sooner sat down, lo but, after having looked upon me a little while, My dear, says she, turning to her husband, you may now see the stranger that was in the candle last night. Soon after this, as they began to talk of family affairs, a little boy at the lower end of the table told her, i5 1 ' ' Can you make sport of portents, gipsy crones. Hobgoblins, dreams, raw head and bloody bones?" — John Conington, 156 A SUPEESTITIOUS HOUSEHOLD 157 that he was to go into join-hand on Thursday. Thurs- day? says she, No, Child, if it please God, you shall not begin upon Childermas Day; tell your writing master that Friday will be soon enough. I was 5 reflecting with myself on the oddness of her fancy, and wondering that anybody would establish it as a rule to lose a day in every week. In the midst of these my musings, she desired me to reach her a little salt upon the point of my knife, which I did in such 10 a trepidation and hurry of obedience that I let it drop by the way; at which she immediately startled, and said it fell toward her. Upon this I looked very blank; and, observing the concern of the whole table, began to consider myself, with some confusion, 15 as a person that had brought a disaster upon the family. The lady, however, recovering herself after a little space, said to her husband with a sigh, My dear, misfortunes never come single. My friend, I found, acted but an under part at his table, and 20 being a man of more good nature than understanding, thinks himself obliged to fall in with all the passions and humors of his yoke-fellow : Do not you remember. Child, says she, that the pigeon-house fell the very afternoon that our careless wench spilt the salt upon 25 the table ? Yes, says he, My dear, and the next post brought us an account of the battle of Almanza. The reader may guess at the figure I made, after having done all this mischief. I despatched my dinner as soon as I could, with my usual taciturnity; when, to so my utter confusion, the lady seeing me quitting my 158 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE knife and fork, and laying them across one another upon my plate, desired me that I would hnmor her so far as to take them out of that figure, and place them side by side. What the absurdity was which I had committed I did not know, but I suppose there 5 was some traditionary superstition in it; and there- fore, in obedience to the lady of the house, I disposed of my knife and fork in two parallel lines, which is the figure I shall always lay them in for the future, though I do not know any reason for it. lo It is not difficult for a man to see that a person has conceived an aversion to him. For my own part, I quickly found, by the lady's looks, that she regarded me as a very odd kind of fellow, with an unfortunate aspect : For which reason I took my leave immedi- 15 ately after dinner, and withdrew to my own lodgings. Upon my return home, I fell into a profound con- templation on the evils that attend these superstitious follies of mankind ; how they subject us to imaginary afflictions, and additional sorrows, that do not prop- 20 erly come within our lot. As if the natural calamities of life were not suificient for it, we turn the most indifferent circumstances into misfortunes, and suffer as much from trifling accidents as from real evils. I have known the shooting of a star spoil a night's 25 rest; and have seen a man in love grow pale and lose his appetite upon the plucking of a merry- thought. A screech owl at midnight has alarmed a family more than a band of robbers; nay, the voice of a cricket hath struck more terror than the roaring 30 A SUPEESTITIOUS HOUSEHOLD 159 of a lion. There is nothing so inconsiderable which may not appear dreadful to an imagination that is filled with omens and prognostics. A rusty nail, or a crooked pin, shoot up into prodigies. 5 An old maid that is troubled with the vapors produces infinite disturbances of this kind among her friends and neighbors. I know a maiden aunt, of a great family, who is one of these antiquated sibyls, that forebodes and prophesies from one end of the year 10 to the other. She is always seeing apparitions and hearing death watches; and was the other day almost frighted out of her wits by the great house dog that howled in the stable at a time when she lay ill of the toothache. Such an extravagant cast of mind engages 15 multitudes of. people, not only in impertinent terrors, but in supernumerary duties of life ; and arises from that fear and ignorance which are natural to the soul of man. The horror with which we entertain the thoughts of death (or indeed of any future evil) and 20 the uncertainty of its approach fill a melancholy mind with innumerable apprehensions and suspicions, and consequently dispose it to the observation of such groundless prodigies and predictions. For as it is the chief concern of wise men to retrench the evils of 25 life hy the reasonings of philosophy ; it is the employ- ment of fools to multiply them by the sentiments of superstition. For my own part, I should be very much troubled were I endowed with this divining quality, though 30 it should inform me truly of every thing that can 160 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE befall me. I would not anticipate the relish of any happiness, nor feel the weight of any misery, before it actually arrives. I know but one way of fortifying my soul against these gloomy presages and terrors of mind, and that 5 is by securing to myself the friendship and protection of that Being who disposes of events, and governs futurity: He sees, at one view, the whole thread of my existence, not only that part of it which I have already passed through, but that which runs forward lo into all the depths of eternity. When I lay me down to sleep, I recommend myself to his care; when I awake, I give myself up to his direction. Amidst all the evils that threaten me, I will look up to him for help, and question not but he will either avert them, is or turn them to my advantage. Though I know neither the time nor the manner of the death I am to die, I am not at all solicitous about it; because I am sure that he knows them both, and that he will not fail to comfort and support me under them. 20 C XXII MICEOSCOPES AND TELESCOPES [The Tatler, No, 119. — Addison. Thursday, January 12, 1709-10.] In tenui labor.i — Virgil. Sheer Lane, January 11. I have lately applied myself with much satisfaction to the curious discoveries that have been made by the help of microscopes, as they are related by authors of our own and other nations. "There is a great deal 5 of pleasure in prying into this world of wonders which nature has laid out of sight and seems indus- trious to conceal from us. Philosophy had ranged over all the visible creation and began to want objects for her inquiries, when the present age, by the in- lovention of glasses, opened a new and inexhaustible magazine of rarities, more wonderful and amazing than any of those which astonished our forefathers. I was yesterday amusing myself with speculations of this kind and reflecting upon myriads of animals that i A part of tlie following phrase: In tenui, lahor; at tenuis non gloria; ''labor on a mean subject, but the glory is not mean. ' ' 161 162 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE swim in those little seas of juices that are contained in the several vessels of a human body. While my mind was thus filled with that secret wonder and delight, I could not but look upon myself as in an act of devotion and lam very well pleased with the 5 thought of the great heathen anatomist who calls his description of the parts of a human body, "A Hymn to the Supreme Being." The reading of the day produced in my imagination an agreeable morning's dream, if I may call it such; for I am still in doubt lo whether it passed in my sleeping or waking thoughts. However it was, I fancied that my good genius stood at my bed's head and entertained me with the follow- ing discourse ; for, upon my rising, it dwelt so strongl}^ upon me that I writ down the substance of i5 it, if not the very words. "If," said he, "you can be so transported with those productions of nature which are discovered to you by those artificial eyes that are the works of human invention, how great will your surprise be, 20 when you shall have it in your power to model your own eye as you please, and adapt it to the bulk of objects, which, with all these helps, are by infinite degrees too minute for your perception ! We who are unbodied spirits can sharpen our sight to what degree 25 v^e think fit and make the least work of the creation distinct and visible. This gives us such ideas as cannot possibly enter into your present conceptions. There is not the least particle of matter which may not furnish one of us sufficient employment for a whole so MICEOSCOPES AND TELESCOPES 153 eternity. "We can still divide it and still open it and still discover new wonders of providence, as we look into the different texture of its parts, and meet with beds of vegetables, minerals and metallic mixtures and 5 several kinds of animals that lie hid, and, as it were, lost in such an endless fund of matter. I find you are surprised at this discourse; but, as your reason tells yoa there are infinite parts in the smallest por- tion of matter, it will likewise convince you that there 10 is as great a variety of secrets, and as much room for discoveries, in a particle no bigger than the point of a pin as in the globe of the whole earth. Your micro- scopes bring to sight shoals of living creaturC'S in a spoonful of vinegar; but we who can distinguish 15 them in their different magnitudes see among them several huge leviathans that terrify the little fry of animals about them and take their pastime as in an ocean or the great deep." I could not but smile at this part of his relation 20 and told him, ' ' I doubted not but he could give me the history of several invisible giants, accompanied with their respective dwarfs, in case that any of these little beings are of a human shape." ''You may assure yourself," said he, "that we see 25 in these little animals different natures, instincts, and modes of life, which correspond to what you observe in creatures of bigger dimensions. "We descry millions of species subsisted on a green leaf, which your glasses represent only in crowds and swarms. "What appears 30 to your eye but as hair or down rising on the surface 164 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE of it, we find to be woods and forests, inhabited by beasts of prey that are as dreadful in those their little haunts, as lions and tigers in the deserts of Lybia." I was much delighted with his discourse, and could 5 not forbear telling him, 'that I should be wonderfully pleased to see a natural history of imperceptibles, containing a true account of such vegetables and animals as grow and live out of sight.' "Such disquisitions," answered he, "are veryio suitable to reasonable creatures; and, you may be sare, there are many curious spirits among us who employ themselves in such amusements. For, as our hands and all our senses may be formed to what degree of strength and delicacy we please, in theis same manner as our sight, we can make what experi- ments we are inclined to, how small soever the matter be in which we make them. I have been present at the dissection of a mite and have seen the skeleton of a flea. I have been shown a forest of numberless 20 trees which has been picked out of an acorn. Your microscope can show you in it a complete oak in miniature; and could you suit all your organs as we do, you might pluck an acorn from this little oak, which contains another tree ; and so proceed from 25 tree to tree, as long as you would think fit to continue your disquisitions. It is almost impossible," added he, "to talk of thinors so remote from common life and the ordinary notions which mankind receive from blunt and gross organs of sense, without appearing 3(r MICEOSCOPES AND TELESCOPES 165 extravagant and ridiculous. You have often seen a dog opened, to observe the circulation of the blood or make any other useful inquiry; and yet would be tempted to laugh if I should tell you that a circle 5 of much greater philosophers than any of the Royal Society were present at the cutting up of one of those little animals v/hich we find in the blue of a plum; that it was tied down alive before them ; and that they observed the palpitations of the heart, the course of 10 the blood, the working of the muscles and the con- vulsions in the several limbs, with great accuracy and improvement. ' ' "I must confess," said I, "for my own part, I go along with you in all your discoveries with great 15 pleasure : but it is certain they are too fine for the gross of mankind, who are more struck with the de- scription of every thing that is great and bulky. Accordingly, we find the best judge of human nature setting forth his wisdom, not in the formation of these 20 minute animals, though indeed no less wonderful than the other, but in that of the leviathan and behemoth, the horse, and the crocodile." "Your observation," said he, "is very just; and I must acknowledge, for my own part, that although 25 it is with much delight that I see the traces of provi- dence in these instances, I still take greater pleasure in considering the works of the creation in their immensity than in their minuteness. For this reason, I rejoice when I strengthen my sight so as to make it 30 pierce into the most remote spaces and take a view 166 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE of those heavenly bodies which lie out of the reach of human eyes, though assisted by telescopes. What you look upon as one confused white in the milky way appears to me a long track of heavens, distinguished by stars that are ranged in proper figures and con- 5 stellations. While you are admiring the sky in a starry .night, I am entertained with a variety of worlds and suns placed one above another and rising up to such an immense distance that no created eye can see an end of them." 10 The latter part of his discourse flung me into such an astonishment that he had been silent some time before I took notice of it; when, on a sudden, I started up and drew my curtains, to look if any one was near me, but saw nobody, and cannot tell to this 15 moment whether it was my good genius or a dream that left me. XXIII CONDEMNING THE UNFOETUNATE [The Spectator, No. 483. — Addison. Saturday, September 13, 1712.1 Nee deus intersit, nisi dignas vindice nodus Inciderit.i — Horace. We cannot be guilty of a greater act of oncharita- bleness than to interpret the afflictions which befall our neighbors as punishments and judgments. It aggravates the evil to him who suffers, when he looks 5 upon himself as the mark of divine vengeance, and abates the compassion of those toward him who regard him in so dreadful a light. This humor of turning every misfortune into a judgment proceeds from wrong notions of religion, which, in its own 10 nature, produces good will toward men, and puts the mildest construction upon every accident that befalls them. In this case, therefore, it is not religion that sours a man's temper, but it is his temper that sours his religion: people of gloomy, uncheerful imagina- 15 tions, or of envious, malignant tempers, whatever kind of life they are engaged in, will discover their natural 1 ' ' Let not a god come in save to untie Some knot that will liis presence justify." — Sir Theodore Martin. 167 168 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE tincture of mind in all their thoughts, words, and actions. As the finest wines have often the taste of the soil, so even the most religious thoughts often draw something that is particular from the constitu- tion of the mind in which they arise. "When folly 5 or superstition strike in with this natural depravity of temper, it is not in the power even of religion itself to preserve the character of the person who is possessed with it from appearing highly absurd and' ridiculous. 10 An old maiden gentlewoman, whom I shall conceal under the name of Nemesis, is the greatest discoverer of judgments that I have met with. She can tell you what sin it was that set such a man's house on fire, or blew down his barns. Talk to her of an unfortunate 15 young lady that lost her beauty by the smallpox, she fetches a deep sigh, and tells you that when she had a fine face she was always looking on it in her glass. Tell her of a piece of good fortune that has befallen one of her acquaintance, and she wishes it may prosper 20 with her; but her mother used one of her nieces very barbarously. Her usual remarks turn upon people who had great estates but never enjoyed them, by reason of some flaw in their own, or their father's behavior. She can give you the reason why such an 25 one died childless: Why such an one was cut off in the flower of his youth: Why such an one was un- happy in her marriage : Wliy one broke his leg on such a particular spot of ground, and why another was killed with a back-sword rather than with anvso CONDEMNING THE UNFOETUNATE 169 other kind of weapon. She has a crime for every misfortune that can befall any of her acquaintance, and when she hears of a robbery that has been made, or a murder that has been committed, enlarges more 5 on the guilt of the suffering person than on that of the thief or the assassin. In short, she is so good a Christian that whatever happens to herself is a trial, and whatever happens to her neighbors is a judgment. 10 The very description of this folly, in ordinary life, is sufficient to expose it ; but, when it appears in a pomp and dignity of style, it is very apt to amuse and terrify the mind of the reader. Herodotus and Plutarch very often apply their judgments as imper- istiiiently as the old woman I have before mentioned, though their manner of relating them makes the folly itself appear venerable. Indeed, most historians, as well Christian as pagan, have fallen into this idle superstition, and spoken of ill success, unforeseen dis- 20 asters, and terrible events, as if they had been let into the secrets of providence, and made acquainted with that private conduct by which the world is gov- erned. One would think several of our own historians in particular had many revelations of this kind made 25 to them. Our old English monks seldom let any of their kings depart in peace who had endeavored to diminish the power or wealth of which the ecclesiastics were in those times possessed, William the Con- queror's race generally found their judgments in the 30 New Forest, where their father had pulled down 170 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE churches and monasteries. In short, read one of the chronicles written by an author of this frame of mind, and yon would think you were reading an history of the kings of Israel or Judah, where the historians were actually inspired, and where, by as particular scheme of providence, the kings w^ere dis- tinguished by judgments or blessings, according as they promoted idolatry or the worship of the true God. I cannot but look back upon this manner of judging lo upon misfortunes, not only to be very uncharitable in regard to the person whom they befall, but very pre- sumptuous in regard to him who is supposed to inflict them. It is a strong argument for a state of retribu- tion hereafter that in this world virtuous persons are is very often unfortunate, and vicious persons pros- perous, which is wholly repugnant to the nature of a being who appears infinitely wise and good in all his works, unless we may suppose that such a promis- cuous and undistinguishing distribution of good and 20 evil, which was necessary for carrying on the designs of providence in this life, will be rectified and made amends for in another. We are not therefore to expect that fire should fall from heaven in the ordinary course of providence; nor, when we see triumphant 25 guilt or depressed virtue in particular persons, that omnipotence will make bare its holy arm in the defense of the one or punishment of the other. It is sufficient that there is a day set apart for the hearing and requiting of both according to their respective merits, so CONDEMNING THE UNFORTUNATE 171 The folly of ascribing temporal judgments to any particular crimes may appear from several considera- tions. I shall only mention two: First, That gen- erally speaking, there is no calamity or affliction 5 which is supposed to have happened as a judgment to a vicious man which does not sometimes happen to men of approved religion and virtue. "When Diagoras the atheist w^as on board one of the Athenian ships, there arose a very violent tempest ; upon which 10 the mariners told him that it was a just judgment upon them for having taken so impious a man on board. Diagoras begged them to look upon the rest of the ships that were in the same distress, and asked them whether or no Diagoras was on board every 15 vessel in the fleet. We are all involved in the same calamities, and subject to the same accidents; and when we see any one of the species under any par- ticular oppression, we should look upon it as arising from the common lot of human nature rather than 20 from the guilt of the person who suffers. Another consideration that may check our pre- sumption in putting such a construction upon a mis- fortune is this, That it is impossible for us to know w^hat are calamities and what are blessings. How 25 many accidents have passed for misfortunes which have turned to the welfare and prosperity of the persons in whose lot they have fallen? How m.any disappointments have, in their consequences, saved a man from ruin? If Ave could look into the effects of 30 everything, we might be allow^ed to pronounce boldly 172 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE ■upon blessings and judgments ; but for a man to give his opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its beginnings, is an unjustifiable piece of rashness and folly. The story of Biton and Clitobus, which was in great reputation among the heathens, for we see its quoted by all the ancient authors, both Greek and Latin, who have written upon the immortality of soul, may teach us a caution in this matter. These two brothers, being the sons of a lady who was priestess to Juno, drew their mother's chariot to the temple atio the time of a great solemnity, the persons being absent who by their office were to have drawn her chariot on that occasion. The mother was so trans- ported with this instance of filial duty that she peti- tioned her goddess to bestow upon them the greatest is gift that could be given to men; upon which they were both cast into a deep sleep, and the next morning found dead in the temple. This was such an event as would have been construed into a judgment had it happened to the two brothers after an act of dis-20 obedience, and would doubtless have been represented as such by any ancient historian who had given us an account of it. XXIV THE LION SPIES [The Guardian, No. 71. — Addison. Tuesday, June 2, 1713.1 Quale portentum neque militaris Daunia in latis alit esculetis: Nee Jubae tellus general, leonum Arida nutrix.i — Horace. I question not but my country customers will be surprised to hear me complain that this town is, of late years, very much infested with lions; and will perhaps, look upon it as a strange piece of news when 5 1 assure them that there are many of these beasts of prey who walk our streets in broad daylight, beating about from coffee house to coffee house, and seeking whom they may devour. To unriddle this paradox, I must acquaint my 10 rural reader that we polite men of the town give the name of a lion to any one that is a great man's spy. And whereas I cannot discharge my office of Guardian without setting a mark on such a noxious animal, and 1 ' '■ No beast of more portentous size, In the Hereinian forest lies; Nor fiercer in Numidia bred, With Carthage were in triumph led." — Boscommon. 173 174 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE cautioning my wards against him, I design this whole paper as an essay upon the political lion. It has cost me a great deal of time to discover the reason of this appellation, but after many disquisitions and conjectures on so obscure a subject, I find there 5 are two accounts of it more satisfactory than the rest. In the republic of Venice, which has been always the mother of politics, there are near the Doge's palace several large figures of lions curiously wrought in marble, with mouths gaping in a most enormous man- u ner. Those who have a mind to give the state any private intelligence of what passes in the city put their hands into the mouth of one of these lions and convey into it a paper of such private informations as any way regard the interest or safety of the if commonwealth. By this means all the secrets of state come out of the lion's mouth. The informer is con- cealed ; it is the lion that tells every thing. In short, there is not a mismanagement in office, or a murmur in conversation, which the lion does not acquaint thezc government with. For this reason, say the learned, a spy is very properly distinguished by the name of lion. I must confess this etymology is plausible enough, and I did for some time acquiesce in it, till about a 25 year or two ago I met with a little manuscript which sets this whole matter in a clear light. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, says my author, the renowned Walsingham had many spies in his service, from whom the government received great advantage. The most so THE LION SPIES 175 eminent among them was the statesman's barber, whose surname was Lion. This fellow had an ad- mirable knack of fishing ont the secrets of his cus- tomers, as they were under his hands. He would rub 5 and lather a man's head until he had got out every thing that was in it. He had a certain snap in his fingers and a volubility in his tongue that would engage a man to talk with him whether he would or no. By this means he became an inexhaustible fund 10 of private intelligence, and so signalized himself in the capacity of a spy that from his time a master-spy goes under the name of a lion. Walsingham had a most excellent penetration, and never attempted to turn any man into a lion whom 15 he did not see highly qualified for it when he was in his human condition. Indeed the speculative men of those times say of him that he would now and then play them off, and expose them a little unmercifully; but that, in my opinion, seems only good policy, for 20 otherwise they might set up for men again, w^ien they thought fit, and desert his service. But how- ever, though in that very corrupt age he made use of these animals, he had a great esteem for true men, and always exerted the highest generosity in offering 25 them more, without asking terms of them, and doing more for them out of mere respect for their talents, though against him, than they could expect from any other minister whom they had served never so con- spicuously. This made Raleigh (who professed him- 30 self his opponent) say one day to a friend, ''Pox 176 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE take this Walsingham, he baffles everybody ; he won 't so much as let a man hate him in private." True it is, that by the wanderings, roarings, and Inrkings of his lions, he knew the way to every" man breathing, who had not a contempt for the world itself. He 5 had lions rampant whom he nsed for the service of the church, and conchant who were to lie down for the queen. They were so much at command, that the couchant would act as the rampant, and the rampant I- as couchant, without being the least out of counte-i* nance, and all this within four-and-twenty hours. Walsingham had the ple.asantest life in the world; for, by the force of his power and intelligence, he saw men as they really were, and not as the world thought of them: all this was principally brought i about by feeding his lions well, or keeping them hungry, according to their different constitutions. Having given this short, but necessary account of this statesman and his barber, who, like the tailor in Shakespeare's Pyramus and Thisbe, was a man made 2 as other men are, notwithstanding he was a nominal lion, I shall proceed to the description of this strange species of creatures. Ever since the wise Walsingham was secretary in this nation, our statesmen are said to have encouraged the breed among us, as very well 2 knowing that a lion in our British arms is one of the supporters of the crown, and that it is impossible for a government, in which there are such a variety of factions and intrigues, to subsist without this neces- sary animal. 3! THE LION SPIES 177 A lion, or master-spy, hath several jackals under him, who are his retailers in intelligence, and bring him in materials for his report; his chief haunt is a coffee house, and as his voice is exceeding strong, it 5 aggravates the sound of every thing it repeats. As the lion generally thirsts after blood, and is of a fierce and cruel nature, there are no secrets which he hunts after with more delight than those that cut off heads, hang, draw, and quarter, or end in the 10 ruin of the person who becomes his prey. If he gets the wind of any word or action that may do a man good, it is not for his purpose, he quits the chase and falls into a more agreeable scent. He discovers a wonderful sagacity in seeking after 15 his prey. He couches and frisks about in a thousand sportful motions to draw it within his reach, and has a particular way of imitating the sound of the creature whom he would ensnare; an artifice to be met with in no beast of prey, except the hyena and the political 20 lion. You seldom see a cluster of newsmongers without a lion in the midst of them. He never misses taking his stand within ear-shot of one of those little ambi- tious men, who set up for orators in places of public 25 resort. If there is a whispering-hole, or any public- spirited corner in a coffee house, you never fail of seeing a lion couched upon his elbow in some part of the neighborhood. A lion is particularly addicted to the perusal of 30 every loose paper that lies in his way. He appears 178 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE i more than ordinary attentive to what he reads, while he listens to those who are about him. He takes np the Postman, and snuffs the candle, that he may hear the better by it. I have seen a lion pore upon a single paragraph in an old Gazette for two hours together, 5 if his neighbors have been talking all that while. Plaving given a full description of this monster, for the benefit of such innocent persons as may fall into his walks, I shall apply a word or two to the lion himself, whom I would desire to consider tnat he is 10 a creature hated both by God and man, and regarded with the utmost contempt even by such as make use of him. Hangmen and executioners are necessary in a state, and so may the animal I have been here mentioning ; but how despicable is the wretch that 15 takes on him so vile an employment ! There is scarce a being that would not suffer^ hy a comparison with him, except that being only who acts the same kind of part and is both the tempter and accuser of mankind. 20 N. B. ]Mr. Ironside has, within five wrecks last past, muzzled three lions, gorged five, and killed one. On Monday next the skin of the dead one will be hung up in terror em, at Button 's coffee house, over against Tom's, in Covent Garden. 25 1 Probably a slip of the pen for ' ' would suffer. ' ' XXV IN A COFFEE HOUSE [The Spectator, No. 46. — Addison. Monday, April 23, nil.}, Non bene junctarum diseordia semina rerum.i — Ovid. When I want materials for this paper, it is my custom to go abroad in qnest of game : and when I meet any proper subject, I take the first opportunity of setting down an hint of it upon paper. At the 5 same time I look into the letters of my correspondents, and if I find any thing suggested in them that may afford matter of speculation, I likewise enter a minute of it in my collection of materials. By this means I frequently carry about me a whole sheetful of hints, 10 that would look like a rhapsody of nonsense to any- body but myself: There is nothing in them but obscurity and confusion, raving and inconsistency. In short, they are my speculations in the first prin- ciples, that (like the world in its chaos) are void of 15 all light, distinction, and order. i^bout a week since, there happened to me a very odd accident, by reason of one of these my papers of minutes which I had accidentally dropped at 1 ' ' The jarring seeds of ill-concerted things. ' ' 179 180 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE Lloyd's coffee house, where the auctions are usually kept. Before I missed it, there, was a cluster of people who had found it, and were diverting them- selves with it at one end of the coffee house : It had raised so much laughter among them, before I had 5 observed what they were about, that I had not the courage to own it. The boy of the coffee house, when ihey had done with it, carried it about in his hand, asking everj^body if they had dropped a written paper; but nobody challenging it, he was ordered by 10 those merry gentlemen who had before perused it, to get up into the auction pulpit, and read it to the w:hole room, that if any one would own it, they might. The boy accordingly mounted the pulpit, and with a very audible voice read as follows: 15 IMINUTES. Sir Roger de Coverley's country seat — ^Yes, for I hate long speeches — Query, if a good Christian may be a conjurer — Childermas Day, Saltseller, House Dog, Screech Owl, Cricket — Mr. Thomas Inkle of London, in the good Ship called the Achilles. Yarico — 20 Aegrescitque medendo^ — Ghosts — The Lady's Library — Lion by trade a tailor — Dromedary called Bu- cephalus — Equipage the Lady's summura bonum — Charles Lillie to be taken notice of — Short face a relief to envy — Redundancies in the three professions 25 ■ — King Latinus a recruit — Jew devouring an ham 1 And it grows worse under healing. IN A COFFEE HOUSE 181 01 bacon — Westminster Abbey — Grand Cairo— Pro- crastination — April Fools — Blue Boars, Red Lions, Hogs in Armor — Enter a King and two Fiddlers solus —Admission into the Ugly Club— Beauty, how im- 5 provable — Families of true and false Humor — The Parrot's Schoolmistress— Face half Pict half British —No Man to be an Hero of a Tragedy under six Foot —Club of Sighers— Letters from Flower Pots, Elbow Chairs, Tapestry Figures, Lion, Thunder— The Bell 10 rings to the Puppet Show— Old A¥oman with a Beard Married to a Smock-faced Boy— My next Coat to be turned up with Blue— Fable of Tongs and Gridiron- Flower Dyers— The Soldier's Prayer— Thank ye for nothing, says the Galley-pot — Pactolus in Stockings, 15 with Golden Clocks to them— Bamboos, Cudgels, Drum-sticks— Slip of my Landlady's eldest Daughter —The black Mare with a Star in her Forehead — The Barber's Pole — Will Honeycomb's Coat Pocket- Caesar's Behavior and my own in Parallel Circum- 20 stances— Poem in Patchwork— NuUi gravis est per- cussus Achilles' — The Female Conventicler — The Ogle Master. The reading of this paper made the whole coffee house very merry; some of them concluded it was 25 written by a madman, and others by somebody that had been taking notes out of the Spectator. One who had the appearance of a very substantial citizen told us, with several politic winks and nods, that he wished there was no more in the paper than what was 1 ' ' The stricken Achilles bears heavily on no one. ' ' 182 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE expressed in it: That, for his part, he looked upon the dromedary, the gridiron, and the barber's pole, to signify something more than what was usually meant by those w^ords ; and that he thought the coffee man could not do better than to carry the paper to 5 one of the secretaries of state. He further added that he did not like the name of the outlandish man with the golden clock in his stockings. A young Oxford scholar, who chanced to be with his uncle at the coffee house, discovered to us who this Pactolus lo w^as; and by that means turned the whole scheme of this worthy citizen into ridicule. While they were making their several conjectures upon this innocent paper, I reached out my arm to the boy, as he was coming out of the pulpit, to give it me ; which he did i5 accordingly. This drew the eyes of the whole com- pany upon me ; but after having cast a cursory glance over it, and shook my head twice or thrice at the reading of it, I twisted it into a kind of match, and lit my pipe with it. My profound silence, together with 20 the steadiness of my countenance, and the gravity of my behavior during this whole transaction, raised a very loud laugh on all sides of me; but as I had escaped all suspicion of being the author, I was very well satisfied, and applying myself to my pipe and 25 the Postman, took no further notice of anything that passed about me. My reader will find that I have already made use of above half the contents of the foregoing paper ; and -will easily suppose that those subjects which are yet so IN A COFFEE HOUSE 183 iintouched were such provisions as I had made for his future entertainment. But as I have been unhickily prevented by this accident, I shall only give him the letters which relate to the two last hints. The first 5 of them I should not have published, were I not in- formed that there is many an husband who suffers very much in his private affairs by the indiscreet zeal of such a partner as is hereafter mentioned ; to whom I may apply the barbarous inscription quoted by the 10 Bishop of Salisbury in his Travels; Dum nimia pia est, facta est impia.^ ''Sir, I am one of those unhappy men that are plagued with a gospel gossip, so common among dissenters 15 (especially Friends). Lectures in the morning, church meetings at noon, and preparation sermons at night, take up so much of her time, 'tis very rare she knows what we have for dinner, unless when the preacher is to be at it. With him come a tribe, all 20 brothers and sisters it seems ; while others, really such, are deemed no relations. If at any time I have her company alone, she is a mere sermon popgun, repeat- ing and discharging texts, proofs, and applications so perpetually, that however weary I may go to bed, the 25 noise in my head will not let me sleep till toward morning. The misery of my case, and great numbers of such sufferers, plead your pity, and speedy relief ; otherwise must expect, in a little time, to be lectured, iBad Latin for ^^f one is too pious ('good* or 'relig- ious'), one becomes impious." 184 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE preached, and prayed into want, unless the happiness of being sooner talked to death prevent it. I am, &c., Pt. G." The second letter, relating to the ogling master, runs thus : ^'Mr. Spectator, I am an Irish gentleman, that have traveled many years for my improvement ; during which time I have accomplished m^'^self in the whole art of ogling, as it is at present practiced in all the polite nations of lo Europe. Being thus qualified, I intend by the advice of my friends, to set up for an ogling master. I teach the church ogle in the morning, and the playhouse - ogle by candle light. I have also brought over with rae a new flying ogle fit for the Eing ; which I teach i5 in the dusk of the evening, or in any hour of the day by darkening ore of my windows. I have a manu- script by me called The Complete Ogler, which I shall be ready to show you upon any occasion: In the meantime, I beg you will publish the substance of 20 this letter in an advertisement, and you will very much oblige. Yours, &e." C XXYI BEING NEGLIGENT AND BEING BUSY [The Spectator, No. S84.— Steele. Friday, January 25, 171S.] Postliabui tamen illorum mea seria ludo.^ — Virgil. An unaffected behavior is without question a very great charm; but under the notion of being uncon- strained and disengaged, people take upon them to be unconcerned in any duty of life. A general negli- 5 gence is what they assume upon all occasions, and set up for an aversion to all manner of business and atten- tion. ' ' I am the carelessest creature in the world, " " I have certainly the worst memory of any man living, ' ' are frequent expressions in the mouth of a pretender 10 of this sort. It is a professed maxim with these people never to think; there is something so solemn in reflection, they, forsooth, can never give themselves time for such a way of employing themselves. It happens often that this sort of man is heavy enough 15 in his nature to be a good proficient in such matters as are attainable by industry ; but alas ! he has such an ardent desire to be what he is not, to be too volatile, to have the faults of a person of spirit, that he pro- fesses himself the most unfit man living for any 20 manner of application. When this humor enters into 1 ' ' However, I let their play take precedence of my work. ' ' — John Conington. 185 186 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE the head of a female, she generally professes sickness upon all occasions, and acts all things with an indis- posed air: she is offended, but her mind is too lazy to raise her to anger; therefore she lives only as actuated by a violent spleen and gentle scorn. She 5 has hardly curiosity to listen to scandal of her acquaintance, and has never attention enough to hear them commended. This affectation in both sexes makes them vain of being useless, and take a certain pride in their insignificancy. lo Opposite to this folly is another no less unreason- able, and that is the impertinence of being always in a hurry. There are those who visit ladies, and beg pardon, afore they are well seated in their chairs, that they just called in, but are obliged to attend 15 business of importance elsewhere the very next moment. Thus they run from place to place, pro- fessing that they are obliged to be stilP in another company than that which they are in. These persons who are just a-going somewhere else should never 20 be detained; let all the world allow that business is to be minded, and their affairs will be at an end. Their vanity is to be importuned, and compliance with their multiplicity of affairs would effectually dispatch 'em. The traveling ladies who have half the town to 25 see in an afternoon may be pardoned for being in constant hurry ; but it is inexcusable in men to come where they have no business, to profess they absent themselves where they have. It has been remarked 1 Always. BEING NEGLIGENT AND BEING BUSY 187 by some nice observers and critics that there is noth- ing discovers the true temper of a person so much as his letters. I have by me two epistles, which are written by two people of the different humors above 5 mentioned. It is wonderful that a man cannot observe upon himself when he sits down to write, but that he will gravely commit himself to paper the same man that he is in the freedom of conversation. I have hardly seen a line from any of these gentlemen but 10 spoke them as absent from w^hat they were doing, as the}^ profess they are when they come into company: For the folly is that they have persuaded themselves they really are busy. Thus their whole time is spent in suspense of the present moment to the next, and 15 then from the next to the succeeding, which to the end of life is to pass away with pretense to many things, and the execution of nothing. ''Sir, The post is just going out, and I have many other 20 letters of very great importance to write this evening, but I could not omit making my com.pliments to you for your civilities to me when I was last in town. It is my misfortune to be so full of business that I cannot tell you a thousand things v/hich I have to 25 say to you. I must desire you to communicate the contents of this to no one living; but believe me to be, with the greatest fidelity. Sir, Your most obedient, humble servant, 30 Stephen Courier." 188 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE ' ' Madam, I hate writing, of all things in the world ; however, though I have drunk the waters, and am told I ought not to use my eyes so much, I cannot forbear writing to you, to tell you I have been to the last degrees hipped since I saw you. How could you entertain such a thought as that I should hear of that silly fellow with patience? Take my word for it, there is nothing in it; and you may believe it when so lazy a creature as I am undergo the pains to assure lo you of it by taking pen, ink, and paper in my hand. Forgive this; you know I shall not often offend in this kind. I am very much Your servant, 15 Bridget Eitherdown. The fellow is of your country; prithee send me word, however, whether he has so great an estate." XXVII A BUSY LIFE [TJie Spectator, No. 317. — Addison. Tuesday, March 4, 1711-12.'] Fruges consumere nati.i — Horace. Augustus, a few moments before his death, asked his friends who stood about him if they thought he had acted his part well ; and upon receiving such an answer as was due to his extraordinary merit. Let 5 me then, says he, go off the stage wdth your applause, using the expression with which the Roman actors made their exit at the conclusion of a dramatic piece. I could wish that men, while they are in health, would consider well the nature of the part they are engaged 10 in, and what figure it will make in the minds of those they leave behind them : whether it was worth coming into the world for, whether it be suitable to a reason- able being; in short, whether it appears graceful in this life, or will turn to an advantage in the next. 15 Let the sycophant, or buffoon, the satirist, or the good companion, consider with himself, when his body shall be laid in the grave, and his soul pass into i/'Born but to feed." — Sir Theodore Martin. 189 190 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE another state of existence, how much it will redound to his praise to have it said of him that no man in England eat better, that he had an admirable talent at turning his friends into ridicule, that nobody outdid him at an ill-natured jest, or that he never 5 went to bed before he had dispatched his third bottle. These are, however, very common funeral orations, and eulogiums on deceased persons who have acted among mankind with some figure and reputation. But if we look into the bulk of our species, they are lo such as are not likely to be remembered a moment after their disappearance. They leave behind them no traces of their existence, but are forgotten as though they had never been. They are neither wanted by the poor, regretted by the rich, nor celebrated by 15 the learned. They are neither missed in the common- wealth, nor lamented by private persons. Their actions are of no significancy to mankind, and might have been performed b}^ creatures of much less dig- nity than those who are distinguished by the faculty 20 of reason. An eminent French author speaks some- where to the following purpose : I have often seen from my chamber window two noble creatures, both of them of an erect countenance, and endowed Avith reason. These two intellectual beings are employed, 25 from morning to night, in rubbing tv/o smooth stones one upon another ; that is, as the vulgar phrase it, in polishing marble. My friend. Sir Andrew Freeport, as we were sit- ting in the Club last night, gave us an account of a so A BUSY LIFE 191 sober citizen who died a few days since. This honest man, being of greater consequence in his own thoughts than in the eye of the w^orld, had for some years past kept a journal of his life. Sir Andrew showed us one 5 week of it. Since the occurrences set down in it mark out such a road of action as that I have been speaking of, I shall present my reader with a faithful copy of it ; after having first informed him that the deceased person had in his youth been bred to trade, but find- 10 ing himself not so well turned for business, he had for several years last past lived altogether upon a moderate annuity. Monday, Eight o'clock. , I put on my clothes and walked into the parlor. 15 Nine o'clock, ditto. Tied my knee-strings, and Avashed my hands. Hours ten, eleven, and twelve. Smoked three pipes of Virginia. Read the Supplement and Daily Courant. Things go ill in the north. Mr. Nisby's opinion 20 thereupon. One o'clock in the afternoon. Chid Ralph for mislaying my tobacco-box. Two o'clock. Sat down to dinner. Mem. Too many plums, and no suet. 25 From three to four. Took my afternoon's nap. From four to six. Walked into the fields. A¥ind, S.S.E. From six to ten. At the Club. Mr. Nisby 's opinion about the peace. 30 Ten o'clock. Went to bed, slept sound. 192 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE Tuesday, Being Holiday, Eight o'clock. Rose as usual. Nine o'clock. Washed hands and face, shaved, put on my double soled shoes. Ten, eleven, twelve. Took a walk to Islington. 5 One. Took a pot of IMother Cob's Mild. Between two and three. Returned, dined on a , knuckle of veal and bacon. Mem. Sprouts wanting. Three. Nap as usual. From four to six. Coffee house. Read the news. 10 A dish of twist. Grand Vizier strangled. From six to ten. At the Club. Mr. Nisby's account of the Great Turk. Ten. Dream of the Grand Vizier. Broken sleep. Wednesday, Eight o'clock. Tongue of my shoe- 15 buckle broke. Hands, but not face. . Nine. Paid off the butcher's bill. Mem. To be allowed for the last leg of mutton. Ten, eleven. At the coffee house. More work in the north. Stranger in a black wig asked me how 20 stocks went. From twelve to one. Walked in the fields. Wind to the south. From one to two. Smoked a pipe and a half. Two. Dined as usual. Stomach good. 25 Three. Nap broke by the falling of a pewter-dish. Mem. Cook-maid in love, and grown careless. From four to six. At the coffee house. Advice from Smyrna, that the Grand Vizier was first of all strangled, and afterwards beheaded. so A BUSY LIFE 193 Six o'clock in the evening. Was half an hour in the Club before anybody else came. Mr. Nisby of opinion that the Grand Vizier was not strangled the sixth instant. 5 Ten at night. Went to bed. Slept without waking till nine next morning. Thursday, Nine o'clock. Stayed within till two o'clock for Sir Timothy, who did not bring me my annuity according to his promise. 10 Two in the afternoon. Sat down to dinner. Loss of appetite. Small beer sour. Beef overcorned. Three. Could not take my nap. Four and five. Gave Ralph a box on the ear. Turned off my cookmaid. Sent a message to Sir 15 Timothy. Mem. I did not go to the Club tonight. Went to bed at nine o'clock. Friday. Passed the morning in meditation upon Sir Timothy, who was with me a quarter before twelve. 20 Twelve o'clock. Bought a new head to my cane, and a tongue to my buckle. Drank a glass of purl to recover appetite. Two and three. Dined, and slept well. From four to six. Went to the coffee house. Met 25 Mr. Nisby there. Smoked several pipes. Mr. Nisby of opinion that laced coffee is bad for the head. Six o'clock. At the Club as steward. Sat late. Twelve o'clock. Went to bed, dreamt that I drank small beer with the Grand Vizier. 194 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE Saturday. Waked at eleven, walked in the fields. "Wind N.E. Twelve. Caught in a shower. One in the afternoon. Returned home, and dried myself. s Two. Mr. Nisby dined with me. First course marrow-bones. Second ox-cheek, with a bottle of Brook's and Hellier. Three o'clock. Overslept myself. Six. Went to the Club. Like to have fallen into a lo gutter. Grand Vizier certainly dead, etc. I question not but the reader will be surprised to find the above-mentioned journalist taking so much care of a life that was filled with such inconsiderable actions and received so very small improvements ; and 15 yet, if we look into the behavior of many whom we daily converse with, we shall find that most of their hours are taken up in those three important articles of eating, drinking, and sleeping. I do not suppose that a man loses his time, who is not engaged in public 20 affairs, or in an illustrious course of action. On the contrary, I believe our hours may very often be more profitably laid out in such transactions as make no figure in the world than in such as are apt to draw upon them the attention of mankind. One may be- 25 come wiser and better by several methods of employing one's self in secrecy and silence, and do what is laudable without noise or ostentation. I would, how- ever, recommend to every one of my readers the keeping a journal of their lives for one week, and so A BUSY LIFE 195 setting down punctually their whole series of em- ployments during that space of time. This kind of self-examination would give them a true state of them- selves, and incline them to consider seriously what 5 they are about. One day would rectify the omissions of another, and make a man weigh all those indifferent actions, which, though they are easily forgotten, must certainly be accounted for. L XXYIII TOM D'UEFEY [The Guardian, No. 67. — Addison. Thursday, May 28, 1713.] ne forte pudori Sit tibi musa lyrae solers, et cantor Apollo. i — Horace. It has been remarked by curious observers that poets are generally long-lived, and run beyond the usual age of man, if not cut off by some accident or excess, as Anacreon, in the midst of a very merry old age, was choked with a grape-stone. The same 5 redundancy of spirits that produces the poetical flame keeps up the vital warmth, and administers uncommon fuel to life. I question not but several instances will occur to my reader's memory, from Homer down to Mr. Dryden. I shall only take notice of two who 10 have excelled in lyrics, the one an ancient, and the other a modern. The first gained an immortal repu- tation by celebrating several jockeys in the Olympic games, the last has signalized himself on the same occasion by the ode that begins with — ^'To horse, brave 15 boys, to Newmarket, to horse." My reader will, by this time, know that the two poets I have mentioned, are Pindar and Mr. D 'Urf ey. The former of these is 1 ' ' Blush not to patronize the Muse 's skill. ' ' 196 TOM D'UEFEY 197 long since laid in his urn, after having, many years together, endeared himself to all Greece by his tuneful compositions. Our countryman is still living, and in a blooming old age, that still promises many musical 5 productions ; for if I am not mistaken, our British swan will sing to the last. The best judges who have perused his last song on The Moderate Man do not discover any decay in his parts, but think it deserves a place amongst the finest of those works with which 10 he obliged the world in his more early years. I am led into this subject by a visit which I lately received from my good old friend and contemporary. As we both flourished together in King Charles the Second 's reign, we diverted ourselves with the remem- 15 brance of several particulars that passed in the world before the greatest part of my readers were born, and could not but smile to think how insensibly we were grown into a couple of venerable old gentlemen. Tom observed to me that, after having written more odes 20 than Horace, and about four times as many comedies as Terence, he was reduced to great difficulties by the importunities of a set of men, who, of late years, had furnished him with the accommodations of life, and would not, as we say, be paid with a song. In 25 order to extricate my old friend,. I immediately sent for the three directors of the playhouse, and desired them that they would, in their turn, do a good office for a man who, in Shakespeare's phrase, had often filled their mouths ; I mean with pleasantry, and pop- so ular conceits. They very generously listened to my 198 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE proposal, and agreed to act The Plotting Sisters (a very taking play of my old friend's composing) on the fifteenth of the next month, for the benefit of the author. My kindness to the agreeable Mr. D'Urfey will be 5 imperfect, if, after having engaged the players in his favor, I dQ not get the town to come into it. I must therefore heartily recommend to all the young ladies, my disciples, the case of my old friend, who has often made their grandmothers merry, and whose sonnets 10 have perhaps lulled asleep many a present toast, when she lay in her cradle. I have already prevailed on my Lady Lizard to bb at the house in one of the front boxes, and design, if I am in town, to lead her in myself at the head of her is daughters. The gentleman I am speaking of has laid obligations on so many of his countrymen that I hope they will think this but a just return to the good service of a veteran poet. I myself remember King Charles the Second leaning 20 on Tom D'Urfey 's shoulder more than once, and hum- ming over a song with him. It is certain that monarch was not a little supported by Joy to Great Ccesar, which gave the Whigs such a blow as they were not able to recover that whole reign. My friend after- 25 wards attacked popery with the same success, having exposed Bellarmine and Porto-Carrero more than once in short satirical compositions, which have been in everybody's mouth. He has made use of Italian tunes and sonatas for promoting the protestant interest, and 30 TOM D'UEFEY 199 turned a considerable part of the pope's music against himself. In short, he has obliged the court with polit- ical sonnets, the country with dialogues and pastorals, the city with descriptions of a lord-mayor's feast, not 5 to mention his little ode upon Stool-Ball, with many others of the like nature. Should the very individuals he has celebrated make their appearance together, they would be sufficient to fill the playhouse. Pretty Peg of Windsor, Gilian of 10 Croydon, with Dolly and Molly, and Tommy and Johnny, with many others to be met with in the Musical Miscellanies, entitled. Pills to Purge Melan- cJioly, would make a good benefit night. As my friend, after the manner of the old lyrics, 15 accompanies his works with his own voice, he has been the delight of the most polite companies and conver- sations, from the beginning of King Charles the Sec- ond's reign to our present times. Many an honest gentleman has got a reputation in his country, by 20 pretending to have been in company with Tom D'Urfey. I might here mention several other merits in my friend ; as his enriching our language with a multitude of rhymes, and bringing words together that without 25 his good offices would never have been acquainted with one another, so long as it had been a tongue. But I must not omit that my old friend angles for a trout the best of any man in England. May flies come in late this season, or I myself should, before now, 30 have had a trout of his hooking. 200 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE After what I have said and much more that I might say on this subject, I question not but the world will think that my old friend ought not to pass the remain- der of his life in a cage like a singing bird, but enjoy all that Pindaric liberty which is suitable to a man of 5 his genius. He has made the world merry, and I hope they will make him easy so long as he stays among us. This I will take upon me to say: they cannot do a kindness to a more diverting companion, or a more cheerful, honest, and good-natured man. lo XXIX TEANSMIGEATION [The Spectator, No. 343. — Addison. Thursday, April 3, 1712.'\ Errat, et illine Hue venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupat artus Spiritus: eque feris humana in corpora transit, Inque feras noster.i — Ovid. Will Honeycomb, who loves to show upon occasion all the little learning he has picked up, told us yester- day at the Club that he thought there might be a great deal said for the transmigration of souls, and that the 5 eastern parts of the world believed in that doctrine to this day. "Sir Paul Rycaut," says he, "gives us an account of several well-disposed Mahometans that pur- chase the freedom of any little bird they see confined to a cage, and think they merit as much by it as we 10 should do here by ransoming any of our countrymen from their captivity in Algiers. You must know," says Will, "the reason is, because they consider every animal as a brother or a sister in disguise, and there- 1 ' ' Here and there th ' unbodied spirit flies. By time, or force, or sickness, dispossessed, And lodges where it lights, in man or beast. ' ' — John Dryden. 201 202 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE fore think themselves obliged to extend their char- ity to them, though under such mean circumstances. They'll tell you," says Will, "that the soul of a man, when he dies, immediately passes into the body of another man, or of some brute, which he resembled 5 in his humor, or his fortune, when he was one of us. ' ' As I was wondering what this profusion of learning would end in. Will told us that Jack Freelove, who was a fellow of whim, made love to one of those ladies who throw away all their fondness on parrots, mon- 10 keys, and lap-dogs. Upon going to pay her a visit one morning, he writ a Yery pretty epistle upon this hint. "'Jack," says he, "was conducted into the parlor, where he diverted himself for some time with her favorite monkey, Avhich was chained in one of the 15 windows; till, at length, observing a pen and ink lie by him, he writ the following letter to his mistress, in the person of the monkey ; and upon her not coming down so soon as he expected, left it in the window; and went about his business. 20 "The lady soon after, coming into the parlor, and seeing her monkey look upon a paper with great earnestness, took it up, and to this day is in some doubt," says Will, "whether it was written by Jack or the monkey. 25 " 'Madam, ' ' ' Not having the gift of speech, I have a long time waited in vain for an opportunity of making myself known to you ; and having at present the conveniences of pen, ink, and paper by me, I gladly take the occa-30 TRANSMIGRATION 203 sion of giving you my history in writing, which I could not do by word of mouth. You must know. Madam, that about a thousand years ago I was an Indian brachman, and versed in all those mysterious 6 secrets which your European philosopher, called Pythagoras, is said to have learned from our frater- nity. I had so ingratiated myself by my great skill in the occult sciences with a d^mon whom I used to converse with that he promised to grant me whatever 10 1 should ask of him. I desired that my soul might never pass into the body of a brute creature ; but this he told me was not in his power to grant me. I then begged that into whatever creature I should chance to transmigrate, I might still retain my memory, and 15 be conscious that I Avas the same person who lived in different animals. This he told me was within his power, and accordingly promised on the word of a daemon that he would grant m-e what I desired. From that time forth I lived so very unblamably that I w^as 20 made president of a college of brachmans, an office which I discharged with grea't integrity till the day of my death. " 'I was then shuffled into another human body, and acted my part so very well in it that I became first 25 minister to a prince who reigned upon the banks of the Ganges. I here lived in great honor for several years, but by degrees lost all the innocence of the brachman, being obliged to rifle and oppress the people to enrich my sovereign ; till, at length, I be- so came so odious that my master, to recover his credit 204 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE with, his subjects, shot me through the heart with an arrow, as I was one day addressing myself to him at the head of his army. '' 'Upon my next remove, I found myself in the woods under the shape of the jackal, and soon listed 5 myself in the service of a lion. I used to yelp near his den about midnight, which was his time of rousing and seeking after his prey. He always followed me in the rear, and when I had run down a fat buck, a wild goat, or an hare, after he had feasted very plentifully lo upon it himself, would now and then throw me a bone that was but half picked for my encouragement; but upon my being unsuccessful in two or three chases, he gave me such a confounded gripe in his anger that I died of it. 15 ' ' ' In next transmigration, I was again set upon two legs, and became an Indian tax-gatherer; but having been guilty of great extravagances, and being married to an expensive jade of a wife, I ran so cursedly in debt that I durst not show my head. I could no sooner 20 step out of my house but I was arrested hj somebody or other that lay in wait for me. As I ventured abroad one night in the dusk of the evening, I was taken up and hurried into a dungeon, where I died a few months after. 25 ' ' ' My soul then entered into a flying-fish, and in that state led a most melancholy life for the space of six years. Several fishes of prey pursued me when I was in the water, and if I betook myself to my wings, it was ten to one but I had a flock of birds aiming at me. 30 TRANSMIGEATION 205 As I was one day flying amidst a fleet of English ships, I observed an huge seagull whetting his bill and hovering just over my head: Upon my dipping into the water to avoid him, I fell into the mouth of 5 a monstrous shark that swallowed me down in an instant. '* 'I was some years afterwards, to my great sur- prise, an eminent banker in Lombard Street; and remembering how I had formerly suffered for want 10 of money, became so very sordid and avaricious that the whole town cried shame of me. I was a miserable little old fellow to look upon, for I had in a manner starved myself, and was nothing but skin and bone when I died. 15 ' ' ' I was afterwards very much troubled and amazed to find myself dwindled into an emmet. I was heartily concerned to make so insignificant a figure, and did not know but, some time or other, I might be reduced to a mite if I did not mend my manners. I therefore 20 applied myself with great diligence to the offices that were allotted me, and was generally looked upon as the notablest ant in the whole molehill. I was at last picked up, as I was groaning under a burden, by an unlucky cock-sparrow that lived in the neighborhood, 25 and had before made great depredations upon our commonwealth. " 'I then bettered my condition a little, and lived a whole summer in the shape of a bee ; but being tired with the painful and penurious life I had undergone 30 in my two last transmigrations, I fell into the other 206 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE extreme, and turned drone. As I one day headed a party to plunder an hive, we were received so warmly by the swarm which defended it that we were most of us left dead upon the spot. ** 'I might tell you of many other transmigrations 5 which I went through; how I was a town-rake, and afterwards did penance in a bay gelding for ten years ; as also how I was a tailor, a shrimp, and a tom-tit. In the last of these my shapes, I was shot, in the Christmas holidays, by a young jackanapes, whoio would needs try his new gun upon me. " 'But I shall pass over these and several other stages of life, to remind you of the young beau who made love to you about six years since. You may remember, Madam, how he masked, and danced, andi5 sung, and played a thousand tricks to gain you; and how he was at last carried off by a cold that he got under your window one night in a serenade. I was that unfortunate young fellow, whom you w^ere then so cruel to. Not long after my shifting that unlucky 20 body, I found myself upon a hill in Ethiopia, where I lived in my present grotesque shape, till I was caught by a servant of the English factory, and sent over into Great Britain : I need not inform you how I came into your hands. You see, Madam, this is not 25 the first time that you have had me in a chain ; I am, however, very happy in this my captivity, as you often bestow on me those kisses and caresses which I would have given the world for when I was a man. I hope this discovery of my person will not tend to my 30 TEANSMIGEATION 207 disadvantage, but that you will still continue your accustomed favors to 'Your most devoted humble servant, Pugg/" '^ 'P. S. I would advise your little shock-dog to keep out of my w^ay ; for as I look upon him to be the most formidable of my rivals, I may chance one time or other to give him such a snap as he won't like.' " L XXX THE BEAU'S HEAD [The Spectator, No. 215, — Addison. Tuesday, January 15, 1711-12.'] tribus Anticyris caput insanabile.i — Juvenal. \ * '■*■ I was yesterday engaged in an assembly of virtuosos, where one of them produced many curious observa- tions, which he had lately made in the anatomy of an human body. Another of the company communicated to us several wonderful discoveries, which he had also 5 made on the same subject, by the help of very fine glasses. This gave birth to a great variety of uncom- mon remarks, and furnished discourse for the remain- ing part of the day. The different opinions which were started on this lo occasion presented to my imagination so many new ideas that, by mixing with those which were already there, they employed my fancy all the last night, and composed a very wild extravagant dream. I was invited, meth ought, to the dissection of a 15 1 ' ' Their heads, which three Anticyras cannot heal. ' ' — Eorace : Ars Poetica, 300, erroneously attributed by Addison to Juvenal. Translated by Ben Jonson. 208 THE BEAU'S HEAD 20& beau's head, and of a coquette's heart, which were both of them laid on a table before us. An imaginary operator opened the first with a great deal of nicety, which, upon a cursory and superficial view, appeared 5 like the head of another man ; but, upon applying our glasses to it, we made a very odd discover}^, namely, that what we looked upon as brains, were not such in reality, but an heap of strange materials wound up in that shape and texture, and packed together with 10 wonderful art in the several cavities of the skull. For, as Homer tells us that the blood of the gods is not real blood, but only something like it ; so we found that the brain of a beau is not real brain but only some- thing like it. 15 The pineal gland, which many of our modern phi- losophers suppose to be the seat of the soul, smelt very strong of essence and orange-flower water, and was encompassed with a kind of horny substance, cut into a thousand little faces or mirrors, which were 20 imperceptible to the naked eye; insomuch that the soul, if there had been any here, must have been always taken up in contemplating her own beauties. We observed a large antrum or cavity in the sinci- put, that was filled with ribbons, lace, and embroidery, 25 wrought together in a most curious piece of network, the parts of which were likewise imperceptible to the naked eye. Another of these antrums or cavities was stuffed with invisible billets-doux, love-letters, pricked dances, and other trumpery of the same nature. In 30 another we found a kind of powder, which set the 210 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE whole company a sneezing, and by the scent discovered itself to be right Spanish. The several other cells were stored with commodities of the same kind, of wiiich it would be tedious to give the reader an exact inventory. 5 There was a large cavity on each side of the head, which I must not omit. That on the right side was filled with fictions, flatteries, and falsehoods, vows, promises, and protestations; that on the left with oaths and imprecations. There issued out a duct from loj each of these cells, which ran into the root of the tongue, where both joined together, and passed for- ward in one common duct to the tip of it. We discov- ered several little roads or canals running from the ear into the brain, and took particular care to trace is them out through their several passages. One of them extended itself to a bundle of sonnets and little musical instruments. Others ended in several bladders which were filled either with wind or froth. But the large canal entered into a great cavity of the skull, from 20 whence there went another canal into the tongue. This great cavity was filled with a kind of spongy sub- stance, which the French anatomists call galimatias, and the English nonsense. The skins of the forehead were extremely tough and 25 thick, and, what very much surprised us, had not in them Siny single blood-vessel that we were able to dis- cover, either with or without our glasses ; from whence we concluded that the party when alive must have been entirely deprived of the faculty of blushing. 30 THE BEAU'S HEAD 211 The OS eribriforme was exceedingly stuffed, and in some places damaged with snuff. "We could not but 1 take notice in particular of that small muscle which is not often discovered in dissections, and draws the 5 nose upwards, when it expresses the contempt which the owner of it has, upon seeing anything he does not like, or hearing anything he does not understand. I need not tell my learned reader, this is that muscle which performs the motion so often mentioned by the 10 Latin poets, when they talk of a man's cocking his nose, or playing the rhinoceros. "We did not find anything very remarkable in the eye, saving only that the musculi amatorii, or as we may translate it into English, the ogling muscles, were 15 very much worn and decayed with use; whereas on the contrary, the elevator or the muscle which turns the eye toward heaven did not appear to have been used at all. I have only mentioned in this dissection such new 20 discoveries as we were able to make, and have not taken any notice of those parts which are to be met with in common heads. As for the skull, the face, and indeed the whole outward shape and figure of the head, we could not discover any difference from what 25 we observe in the heads of other men. We were informed that the person to whom this head belonged, had passed for a man above five and thirty years; during which time he eat and drank like other people^ dressed well, talked loud, laughed frequently, and on 30 particular occasions had acquitted himself tolerably 212 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE at a ball or an assembly, to which one of the company added that a certain knot of ladies took him for a wit. He was cut off in the flower of his age, by the blow of a paving shovel, having been surprised by an eminent citizen, as he was tendering some civilities to 5 his wife. When we had thoroughly examined this head with all its apartments, and its several kinds of furniture, we put up the brain, such as it was, into its proper place, and laid it aside under a broad piece of scarlet lo cloth, in order to be prepared, and kept in a great repository of dissections, our operator telling us that the preparation would not be so difficult as that of another brain, for that he had observed several of the little pipes and tubes which ran through the brain is were already filled with a kind of mercurial substance, which he looked upon to be true quicksilver. He applied himself in the next place to the coquette 's heart, which he likewise laid open with great dexter- ity. There occurred to us many particularities in this 20 dissection; but, being unwilling to burden my read- er's memory too much, I shall reserve this subject for the speculation of another day. L XXXI THE COQUETTE'S HEAET [The Spectator, No. 281. — Addison. Tuesday, January 22, 1711-12.] Pectoribus inhians spiraiitia consulit exta.i — Virgil. Having already given an account of the dissection of a bean's head, with the several discoveries made on that occasion, I shall here, according to my prom- ise, enter upon the dissection of a coquette's heart, 5 and communicate to the public such particularities as we observed in that curious piece of anatomy, I should perhaps have waived this undertaking, had not I been put in mind of my promise by several of my unknown correspondents, who are very importu- lonate with me to make an example of the coquette, as I have already done of the beau. It is, therefore, in compliance with the request of friends that I have looked over the minutes of my former dream, in order to give the public an exact relation of it, which I shall 15 enter upon without further preface. Our operator, before he engaged in this visionary 1 ' ' And gazing greedily on the . . . breasts, consults the entrails, yet quivering with life." — John Conington. 213 214 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE dissection, told ns that there was nothing in his art more difficult than to lay open the heart of a coquette, hy reason of the many labyrinths and recesses which are to be found in it, and which do not appear in the heart of any other animal. 5 He desired us first of all to observe the pericardium, or outward case of the heart, which we did very atten- tively; and by the help of our glasses discerned in it millions of little scars, which seemed to have been occasioned by the points of innumerable darts and ic arrows, that from time to time had glanced upon the outward coat ; though we could not discover the small- est orifice by which any of them had entered and pierced the inward substance. Every smatterer in anatomy knows that this peri- 15 cardium, or case of the heart, contains in it a thin reddish liquor, supposed to be bred from the vapors which exhale out of the heart, and being stopped here, are condensed into this watery substance. Upon exam- ining this liquor, we found that it had in it all the 20 qualities of that spirit which is made use of in the thermometer to show the change of weather. Nor must I here omit an experiment one of the company assured us he himself had made with this liquor, which he found in great quantity about the 25 heart of a coquette whom he had formerly dissected. He affirmed to us that he had actually enclosed it in a small tube made after the manner of a weather- glass ; but that, instead of acquainting him with the variations of the atmosphere, it showed him the qual-30 THE COQUETTE'S HEART 215 I ities of those persons who entered the room where it I stood. He affirmed also that it rose at the approach of a plume of feathers, an embroidered coat, or a pair of fringed gloves; and that it fell as soon as an ill- 5 shaped periwig, a clumsy pair of shoes, or an unfash- ionable coat came into his house: Nay, he proceeded so far as to assure us that upon his laughing aloud, when he stood by it, the liquor mounted very sensibly, and immediately sunk again upon his looking serious. 10 In short, he told us that he knew very well by this invention whenever he had a man of sense or a cox- comb in his room. Having cleared away the pericardium, or the case and liquor above mentioned, w^e came to the heart 15 itself. The outvv^ard surface of it was extremely slip- pery, and the mucro, or point, so very cold withal that, upon endeavoring to take hold of it, it glided through the fingers like a smooth piece of ice. The fibers were turned and twisted in a more intri- 20 cate and . perplexed manner than they are usually found in other hearts ; insomuch, that the whole heart was wound up together like a Gordian knot, and must have had very irregular and unequal motions, whilst it was employed in its vital function. 25 One thing we thought very observable, namely, that upon examining all the vessels which came into it or issued out of it, we could not discover any communica- tion that it had with the tongue. We could not but take notice, likewise, that several 30 of those little nerves in the heart which are affected by 216 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE the sentiments of love, hatred, and other passions, did not descend to this before us from the brain, but from the muscles which lie about the eye. Upon weighing the heart in my hand, I found it to be extremely light, and consequently very hollow ; 5 which I did not wonder at when, upon looking into the inside of it, I saw multitudes of cells and cavities running one within another, as our historians describe the apartments of Rosamond's Bower. Several of these little hollows were stuffed with innumerable 10 sorts of trifles, which I shall forbear giving any par- ticular account of, and shall therefore only take notice of what lay first and uppermost, which upon our un- folding it and applying our microscope to it appeared to be a flame-colored hood. 15 We were informed that the lady of this heart, when living, received the addresses of several who made love to her, and did not only give each of them encourage- ment, but made everyone she conversed with believe that she regarded him with an eye of kindness; for 20 which reason we expected to have seen the impression of multitudes of faces among the several plates and foldings of the heart, but to our great surprise not a single print of this nature discovered itself till we came into the very core and center of it. We there 25 observed a little figure, which, upon applying our glasses to it, appeared dressed in a very fantastic manner. The more I looked upon it, the more I thought I had seen the face before, but could not possibly recollect either the place or time; when at 30 THE COQUETTE'S HEAET 217 length one of the company, who had examined this figure more nicely than the rest, showed us plainly by the make of its face, and the several turns of its features, that the little idol that was thus lodged in 5 the middle of the heart was the deceased beau, whose head I gave some account of in my last Tuesday's paper. As soon as w^e had finished our dissection, we resolved to make an experiment of the heart, not being 10 able to determine among ourselves the nature of its substance, which differed in so many particulars from that of the heart in other females. Accordingly we laid it into a pan of burning coals, when we observed in it a certain salamandrine quality, that 15 made it capable of living in the midst of fire and flame, without being consumed, or so much as singed. As we were admiring this strange phenomenon, and standing round the heart in a circle, it gave a most prodigious sigh, or rather crack, and dispersed all at 20 once in smoke and vapor. This imaginary noise, w^hich methought was louder than the burst of a cannon, produced such a violent shake in my brain, that it dissipated the fumes of sleep, and left me in an instant broad awake. L XXXII THE FAN DRILL [The Spectator, No. lOS. — Addison. Wednesday, June 27 ^ 1711.] Lnsus animo debent aliquando dari, Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi.i — Phaedrus. 1 do not know whether to call the following letter a satire upon coquettes or a representation of their sev- eral fantastical accomplishments, or what other title to give it; but as it is I shall communicate it to the public. It will sufficiently explain its own intentions. 5 so that I shall give it my reader at length, without preface or postscript, ''Mr. Spectator, "Women are armed wdth fans as men with swords, and sometimes do more execution with them : To the 10 end therefore that ladies may be entire mistresses of the weapon which they bear, I have erected an acad- emy for the training up of young women in the exer- cise of the fan, according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practiced at court. The 15 ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a 1 ' ' The mind ought sometimes to be diverted, that it may return the better to thinking." 218 THE FAN DRILL 219 day in my great hall, where they are instructed in , the use of their arms, and exercised by the following I words of command, ^ Handle your Fans, 5 Unfurl your FanS; Dirc::arge your Fans, GrouD*l your Fans, Re-', over your Fans, Flutter your Fans. 10 By the right observation of these few plain words of command, a woman of a tolerable genius who will apply herself diligently to her exercise for the space of but one-half year shall be able to give her fan all the graces that can possibly enter into that little 15 modish machine. ' ' But to the end that my readers may form to them- selves a right notion of this exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them in all its parts. When my female regiment is drawn up in array, with every one her 20 weapon in her hand, upon my giving the word to handle their fans, each of them shakes her fan at me with a smile, then gives her right hand woman a tap upon the shoulder, then presses her lips with the extremity of her fan, then lets her arms fall in an 25 easy motion, and stands in a readiness to receive the next word of command. All this is done with a close . fan, and is generally learned in the first week. ''The next motion is that of unfurling the fan, in which are comprehended several little flirts and vibra- sotiors, as also gradual and deliberate openings, with 220 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE many voluntary fallings asunder in the fan itself, that are seldom learned under a month's practice. This part of the exercise pleases the spectators more than any other, as it discovers on a sudden an infinite num- ber of cupids, garlands, altars, birds, beasts, rainbows, 5 and the like agreeable figures, that display themselves to view, whilst every one in the regiment holds a pic- ture in her hand. "Upon my giving the word to discharge their fans, they give one general crack that may be heard at a 10 considerable distance when the wind sits fair. This is one of the most difficult parts of the exercise; but I have several ladies with me, who at their first entrance could not give a pop loud enough to be heard at the further end of a room, who can now 15 discharge a fan in such a manner that it shall make a report like a pocket pistol. I have likewise taken care (in order to hinder young women from letting off their fans in wrong places or unsuitable occasions) to show upon what subject the crack of a fan may 20 come in properly : I have likewise invented a fan, with which a girl of sixteen, by the help of a little wind, which is enclosed about one of the largest sticks, can make as loud a crack as a woman of fifty with an ordinary fan. 25 "When the fans are thus discharged, the word of command in course is to ground their fans. This teaches a lady to quit her fan gracefully when she throws it aside in order to take up a pack of cards, adjust a curl of hair, replace a falling pin, or apply 30 THE FAN DEILL 221 herself to any other matter of importance. This part of the exercise, as it only consists in tossing a fan with an air upon a long table (which stands by for that purpose), may be learned in two days' time as well 5 as in a twelvemonth. ' ' When my female regiment is thus disarmed, I gen- erally let them walk about the room for some time; when, on a sudden, (like ladies that look upon their watches after a long visit) they all of them hasten to 10 their arms, catch them up in a hurry, and place them- selves in their proper stations upon my calling out, 'Recover your fans.' This part of the exercise is not difficult, provided a woman applies her thoughts to it. ' ' The fluttering of the fan is the last, and indeed the 15 masterpiece, of the whole exercise ; but if a lady does not misspend her time, she may make herself mistress of it in three months. I generally lay aside the dog days and the hot time of the summer for the teaching this part of the exercise; for as soon as ever I pro- 2onounce 'Flutter your fans,' the place is filled with so many zephyrs and gentle breezes as are very refreshing in that season of the year, though they might be dangerous to ladies of a tender constitution in any other. 25 ' ' There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the flutter of a fan: There is the angry flutter, the modest flutter, the timorous flutter, the confused flutter, the merry flutter, and the amorous flutter. Not to be tedious, there is scarce any emo- sotion in the mind which does not produce a suitable 222 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE agitation in the fan; insomuch, that if I only see the fan of a disciplined lady, I know very well "whether she laughs, frowns, or blushes. I have seen a fan so very angry that it would have been danger- ous for the absent lover who provoked it to have come 5 within the wind of it ; and at other times so very lan- guishing that I have been glad for the lady's sake the lover was at a sufficient distance from it. I need not add that a fan is either a prude or coquette, accord- ing to the nature of the person who bears it. To con- 1 elude my letter, I must acquaint you that I have from my own observations compiled a little treatise for the use of my scholars, entituled The Passions of the Fan; W'hich I will communicate to you, if you think it may be of use to the public. I shall have a general review 11 on Thursday next, to which you shall be very welcome if you will honor it with your presence, ''I am, &c. *'P. S. I teach young gentlemen the whole art of gallanting a fan. 2( "N. B. I have several little plain fans made for this use, to avoid expense." L # XXXIII LADIES' HOODS [The Spectator, No. 265. — Addison. Thursday, January 3, Dixerit e multis aliquis, quid virus in angues Adjicis? Et rabidae tradis ovile lupaefi —Ovid. One of the fathers, if I am rightly informed, lias defined a woman to be t,(pov ^iAokoct/xov," an animal that delights in finery. I have already treated of the sex in two or three papers, conformably to this definition, e and have in particular observed that in all ages they liave been more careful than the men to adorn that part of the head which we generally call the outside. This observation is so very notorious that when in ordinary discourse we say a man has a fine head, a 1^ long head, or a good head, we express ourselves meta- phorically, and speak in relation to his understanding ; whereas when we say of a woman, she has a fine, a long, or a good head, we speak only in relation to her commode. i^'But some exclaim: Wiiat frenzy rules your mind? Would you increase the craft of womankind? Teach them new wiles and arts? As well you may Instruct a snake to bite or wolf to prey. ' ' — John Congreve. 2 Literally, * ' a living creature that loves harmony or order. ' ' 223 224 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE It is observed among birds that nature has lavished all her ornaments upon the male, who very often appears in a most beautiful headdress : Whether it be a crest, a comb, a tuft of feathers, or a natural little plume, erected like a kind of pinnacle on the very top 5 of the head. As nature on the contrary has poured out her charms in the greatest abundance upon the female part of our species, so they are very assiduous in bestowing upon themselves the finest garnitures of art. The peacock, in all his pride, does not display lo half the colors that appear in the garments of a Brit- ish lady when she is dressed either for a ball or a birthday. But to return to our female heads. The ladies have been for some time in a kind of molting season, with is regard to that part of their dress, having cast great quantities of ribbon, lace, and cambric, and in some measure reduced that part of the human figure to the beautiful globular form which is natural to it. We have for a great while expected what kind of orna-20 ment would be substituted in the place of those anti- quated commodes. But our female projectors were all the last summer so taken up with the improvement of their petticoats that they had not time to attend to anything else ; but having at length sufficiently 25 adorned their lower parts, they now begin to turn their thoughts upon the other extremity, as well remembering the old kitchen proverb, that if you light your fire at both ends, the middle will shift for itself. 30 LADIES* HOODS 225 I I am engaged in this speculation by a sight which ^ I lately met with at the opera. As I was standing in the hinder part of the box, I took notice of a little cluster of women sitting together in the prettiest col- 5 ored hoods that I ever saw. One of them was blue, another yellow, and another philomot ; the fourth was of a pink color, and the fifth of a pale green. I looked with as much pleasure upon this little parti- colored assembly as upon a bed of tulips, and did not 10 know at first whether it might not be an embassy of Indian queens ; but upon my going about into the pit, and taking them in front, I was immediately unde- ceived, and saw so much beauty in every face, that I found them all to be English. Such eyes and lips, 15 cheeks and foreheads, could be the growth of no other country. The complexion of their faces hindered me from observing any further the color of their hoods, though I could easily perceive by that unspeakable satisfaction which appeared in their looks that their 20 own thoughts were wholly taken up on those pretty ornaments they wore upon their heads. I am informed that this fashion spreads daily, in- somuch that the Whig and Tory ladies begin already to hang out different colors, and to show their prin- 25ciples in their headdress. Nay, if I may believe my friend Will Honeycomb, there is a certain old co- quette of his acquaintance, who intends to appear very suddenly in a rainbow hood, like the Iris in Dryden's Yirgil, not questioning but that among such variety 30 of colors she shall have a charm for every heart. 226 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE My friend Will, who very miicli values himself upon his great insights into gallantry, tells me that he can already guess at the humor a lady is in by her hood, as the courtiers of Morocco know the disposition of their present emperor by the color of the dress which 5 he puts on. When Melesinda wraps her head in flame color, her heart is set upon execution. When she covers it with purple, I would not, says he, advise her lover to approach her ; but if she appears in white, it is peace, and he may hand her out of her box with ic safety. Will informs me, likewise, that these hoods may be used as signals. Why else, says he, does Cornelia always put on a black hood when her husband is gone into the country? is Such are my friend Honeycomb's dreams of gal- lantry. For my own part, I impute this diversity of colors in the hoods to the diversity of complexion in the faces of my pretty countrywomen. Ovid in his Art of Love has given some precepts as to this partic- 20 nlar, though I find they are different from those which prevail among the moderns. He recommends a red striped silk to the pale complexion; white to the brown, and dark to the fair. On the contrar3^ my friend Will, who pretends to be a greater master 25 in this art than Ovid, tells me that the palest fea- tures look the most agreeable in w^hite sarsenet; that a face which is overflushed appears to advantage in the deepest scarlet, and that the darkest complexion is not a little alleviated by a black hood. In short, he 30 LADIES' HOODS 227 is for losing the color of the face in that of the hood, as a fire burns dimly, and a candle goes half out in the light of the sun. This, says he, your Ovid him- self has hinted, where he treats of these matters, when 5 he tells us that the blue water nymphs are dressed in sky-colored garments; and that Aurora, who always appears in the light of the rising sun, is robed in saffron. Whether these his observations are justly grounded 10 1 cannot tell, but I have often known him, as we have stood together behind the ladies, praise or dispraise the complexion of a face which he never saw, from observing the color of her hood, and has been very seldom out in his guesses. 15 As I have nothing more at heart than the honor and improvement of the fair sex, I cannot conclude this paper without an exhortation to the British ladies that they would excel the women of all other nations as much in virtue and good sense as they do in 20 beauty; which they may certainly do, if they will be as industrious to cultivate their minds as they are to adorn their bodies. In the meanwhile, I shall recom- mend to their most serious consideration the saying of an old Greek poet, 25 TvvaLKi Kocr/xos 6 Tp67ro<;, k' ov ^vaCa. 1 Quoted from Menander and translated in the 271st number of The Spectator as: '' Manners and not dress are the orna- ments of a woman.'' XXXIV TOWN AND COUNTRY FASHIONS [The Spectator, No. 129. — Addison Saturday, July 28, 1711.] Vertentem sese frustra sectabere canthum, Cum rota posterior curras et iu axe seeundo.i — Persius. Great masters in painting never care for drawing people in the fashion; as very well knowing that the headdress, or periwig, that now prevails, and gives a grace to their portraitures at present, will make a very odd figure, and perhaps look monstrous, in the 5 eyes of posterity. For this reason, they often repre- sent an illustrious person in a Roman habit, or in some other dress that never varies. I could wish, for the sake of my country friends, that there was such a kind of everlasting drapery to be made use of by all lo who live at a certain distance from the town, and that they would agree upon such fashions as should never be liable to changes and innovations. For want of this standing dress, a man who takes a journey into the 1 ' ' Thou, like the hindmost chariot wheels, art curst, Still to be near, but ne 'er to be the first. ' ' — John Dryden. 228 TOWN AND COUNTRY FASHIONS 229 country is as much surprised as one who walks in a ! gallery of old family pictures; and finds as great a variety of garbs and habits in the persons he con- verses with. Did they keep to one constant dress they 5 would sometimes be in the fashion, which they never are, as matters are managed at present. If, instead of running after the mode, they would continue fixed in one certain habit, the mode would some time or other overtake them, as a clock that stands still is 10 sure to point right once in twelve hours. In this case, I therefore, I would advise them, as a gentleman did his friend, who was hunting about the whole town after a rambling fellow, "If you follow him you will never find him, but if you plant yourself at the corner of 15 any one street, I '11 engage it will not be long before you see him." I have already touched upon this subject, in a specu- lation which shows how cruelly the country are led astray in following the town ; and equipped in a ridic- 2oulous habit, when they fancy themselves in the height of the mode. Since that speculation, I have received a letter (which I there hinted at) from a gentleman who is now in the western circuit. "Mr. Spectator: 25 "Being a lawyer of the Middle Temple, a Cornish- man by birth, I generally ride the western circuit for my health, and, as I am not interrupted with clients, have leisure to make many observations that escape the notice of my fellow travelers. 30 ' ' One of the most fashionable women I met with in 230 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE all the circuit was my landlady at Stains, where I chanced to be on a holiday. Her commode was not half a foot high, and her petticoat within some yards of a modish circumference. In the same place, I ob- served a young fellow with a tolerable periwig, had it not been covered with a hat that was shaped in the Ramillie cock. As I proceeded in my journey I ob- served the petticoat grew scantier and scantier, and, about three-score miles from London, was so very un- fashionable that a woman might walk in it without i any manner of inconvenience. ''Not far from Salisbury I took notice of a justice of the peace 's lady who was at least ten years behind- hand in her dress, but at the same time as fine as hands could make her. She was flounced and furbe-i lowed from head to foot; every ribbon was wrinkled, and every part of her garments in curl, so that she looked like one of those animals which in the country we call a Friesland hen. "Not many miles beyond this place, I was informed a that one of the last year's little muffs had by some means or other straggled into those parts, and that all the women of fashion were cutting their old muffs in two, or retrenching them according to the little model which was got among them. I cannot believe the re-2E port they have there, that it was sent down franked by a parliament man in a little packet; but probably by next winter this fashion will be at the height in the country, when it is quite out at London. ' ' The greatest beau at our next county sessions was 30 TOWN AND COUNTRY i^ASHIONS 231 dressed in a most monstrous flaxen periwig that was made in King William's reign. The wearer of it goes, it seems, in his own hair when he is at home, and ' lets his wig lie in buckle for a whole half year that 5 he may put it on, upon occasion, to meet the judges in it. ''I must not here omit an adventure which hap- pened to us in a country church upon the frontiers of Cornwall. As w^e were in the midst of the service, a Lolady, who is the chief woman of the place and had ' passed the winter at London with her husband, en- tered the congregation in a little headdress and a hooped petticoat. The people, w^ho were wonderfully startled at such a sight, all of them rose up. Some 15 stared at the prodigious bottom, and some at the little top of this strange dress. In the meantime, the lady of the manor filled the area of the church and walked up to her pew with an unspeakable satisfaction, amidst the whispers, conjectures, and astonishments 20 of the whole congregation. "Upon our way from hence we saw a young fellow riding toward us full gallop, with a bob wig and a black silken bag tied to it. He stopped short at the coach, to ask us how far the judges were behind us. 25 His stay was so very short that we had only time to observe his new silk waistcoat, which was unbut- toned in several places to let us see that he had a clean shirt on, which was ruffled down to his middle. ''From this place, during our progress through the 30 most western parts of the kingdom, we fancied our- 232 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE selves in King Charles the Second's reign, the people having made very little variations in their dress since that time. The smartest of the country squires appear still in the Monmouth cock, and when they go a-wooing (whether they have any post in the militia 5 or not) they generally put on a red coat. We were indeed very much surprised at the place we lay at last night, to meet with a gentleman that had accoutered himself in a nightcap wig, a coat with long pockets and slit sleeves, and a pair of shoes with lo high scollop tops; but we soon found by his con- versation that he was a person who laughed at the ignorance and rusticity of the country people, and was resolved to live and die in the mode. ' ' Sir, if you think this account of my travels may 15 be of any advantage to the public, I will next year trouble you with such occurrences as I shall meet wdth in other parts of England. For I am informed there are greater curiosities in the northern circuit than in the western; and that a fashion makes its 20 progress much slower into Cumberland than into Cornwall. I have heard, in particular, that the Steen- kirk arrived but two months ago at Newcastle, and that there are several commodes in those parts which are worth taking a journey thither to see." C 25 XXXV EAELY EISING [The Tatler, No. 263. — Steele. Thursday, December 14, J710.] Minima coiitentos nocte Britannos.i — Juvenal. From my oivn Apartment, December 13. An old friend of mine being lately come to town, I went to see liim on Tuesday last, about eight o'clock in the evening, with a design to sit with him an hour or two and talk over old stories; but upon inquiry 5 after him, I found he was gone to bed. The next morning, as soon as I was up and dressed and had despatched a little business, I came again to my friend's house, about eleven o'clock, with a design to renew my visit ; but upon asking for him, his servant 10 told me he was just sat down to dinner. In short, I found that my old-fashioned friend religiously ad- hered to the example of his forefathers and observed the same hours that had been kept in the family ever since the Conquest. 15 It is very plain that the night was much longer formerly in this island than it is at present. By 1 ''Britons, contented with the shortest night." ' 233 234 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE the night, I mean that portion of time which nature has thrown into darkness and which the wisdom of mankind had formerly dedicated to rest and silence. This used to begin at eight o 'clock in the evening and conclude at six in the morning. The curfew, or eight 5 o'clock bell, was the signal throughout the nation for putting out their candles and going to bed. Our grandmothers, though they were wont to sit up the last in the family, were all of them fast asleep at the same hours that their daughters are bus}^ at 10 crimp and basset. Modern statesmen are concerting schemes and engaged in the depth of politics at the time when their forefathers were laid down quietly to rest and had nothing in their heads but dreams. As we have thus thrown business and pleasure into 15 the hours of rest and, by that means, made the natural night but half as long as it should be, we are forced to piece it out with a great part of the morning; so that near two-thirds of the nation lie fast asleep for several hours in broad daylight. This irregularity is 20 grown so very fashionable at present that there is scarce a lady of quality in Great Britain that ever saw the sun rise. And, if the humor increases in proportion to what it has done of late years, it is not impossible but our children may hear the bellman 25 going about the streets at nine o'clock in the morning and the watch making their rounds until eleven. This unaccountable disposition in mankind to continue awake in the night and sleep in the sunshine has made me inquire whether the same change of inclination so EARLY EISING 235 has happened to any other animals ? For this reason, I desired a friend of mine in the country to let me know whether the lark rises as early as he did for- merly; and whether the cock begins to crow at his 5 usual hour. My friend answered me 'that his poul- try are as regular as ever and that all the birds and beasts of his neighborhood keep the same hours that they have observed in the memory of man; and the same which, in all probability, they have kept for 10 these five thousand years.' If you would see the innovations that have been made among us in this particular, you may only look into the hours of colleges, where they still dine at eleven and sup at six, which were doubtless the hours 15 of the whole nation at the time when those places were founded. But, at present, the courts of justice are scarce opened in Westminster Hall at the time when William Rufus used to go to dinner in it. All business is driven forward. The landmarks of our 20 fathers, if I may so call them, are removed and planted further up into the day; insomuch, that I am afraid our clergy will be obliged, if they expect full congregations, not to look any more upon ten o'clock in the morning as a canonical hour. In my 25 own memory, the dinner has crept by degrees from twelve o'clock to three, and where it will fix nobody knows. I have sometimes thought to draw up a memorial in the behalf of Supper against Dinner, setting forth 30 that the said Dinner has made several encroachments 236 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE upon the said Supper and entered very far upon his frontiers; that he has banished him out of several families and in all has driven him from his head- quarters and forced him to make his retreat into the hours of midnight; and, in short, that he is now ins danger of being entirely confounded and lost in a breakfast. Those who have read Lucian, and seen the complaints of the letter T against S, upon account of many injuries and usurpations of the same nature, will not, I believe, think such a memorial forced andio unnatural. If dinner has been thus postponed, or, if you please, kept back from time to time, you may be sure that it has been in compliance with the other business of the day, and that supper, has still observed a proportionable distance. There is a venerable i5 proverb, which we have all of us heard in our infancy, of "putting the children to bed, and laying the goose to the fire." This was one of the jocular sayings of our forefathers but may be properly used in the literal sense at present. Who would not wonder at this per- 20 verted relish of those who are reckoned the most polite part of mankind, that prefer sea-coals and candles to the sun and exchange so many cheerful morning hours for the pleasures of midnight revels and debauches? If a man w^as only to consult his 25 health, he would choose to live his whole time, if possible, in daylight; and to retire out of the world into silence and sleep, while the raw damps and unwholesome vapors fly abroad without a sun to dis- perse, moderate, or control them. For my own part, so EAELY EISING 237 I value an hour in the morning as much as common libertines do an hour at midnight. When I find myself awakened into being and perceive my life renewed within me and at the same time see the whole 5 face of nature recovered out of the dark uncom- fortable state in which it lay for several hours, my heart overflows with such secret sentiments of joy and gratitude as are a kind of implicit praise to the great Author of nature. The mind, in these early seasons 10 of the day is so refreshed in all its faculties and borne up with such new supplies of animal spirits that she finds herself in a state of youth, especially when she is entertained with the breath of flowers, the melody of birds, the dews that hang upon the plants, and all 15 those other sweets of nature that are peculiar to the morning. It is impossible for a man to have this relish of being, this exquisite taste of life, who does not come into the world before it is in all its noise and hurry ; 20 who loses the rising of the sun, the still hours of the day, and immediately upon his first getting up plunges himself into the ordinary cares or follies of the world. I shall conclude this paper with Milton's inimitable description of Adam 's awakening his Eve in Paradise, 25 which indeed would have been a place as little delight- ful as a barren heath, or desert to those who slept in it. The fondness of the posture in which Adam is represented and the softness of his whisper are passages in this divine poem that are above all com- 30 mendation and rather to be admired than praised. 238 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE Now Morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep Was airy light from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapors bland, which th' only sound 5 Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan. Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song Of birds on every bough; so much the more His wonder was to find unwakened Eve, With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, 10 As through unquiet rest. He on his side Leaning half -raised, with looks of cordial love, Hung over her, enamored, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep. Shot forth peculiar graces. Then, with voice 15 Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whispered thus: Awake, My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight. Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field 20 Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove. What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, Hovi Nature paints her colors, how the bee Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet. 25 Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, My glory, my perfection, glad I see Thy face, and morn returned 1 30 1 Those interested in seeing a different point of view from- Steele's on this subject should turn to Charles Lamb's ''Popu- lar Fallacies," Nos. 14 and 15. XXXVI A BED OF TULIPS . [The Tatlery No. 218. — Addison. Thursday, August ^i,^ nio.] ^^ Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes.i — Horace, From my own Apartment, August 30. I chanced to rise very early one particular morning this summer and took a walk into the country to divert myself among the fields and meadows, while the green was new and the flowers in their bloom. 5 As at this season of the year every lane is a beautiful walk and every hedge full of nosegays, I lost myself with a great deal of pleasure among several thickets and bushes that w^ere filled with a great variety of birds and an agreeable confusion of notes, which 10 formed the pleasantest scene in the world to one who had passed a whole winter in noise and smoke. The freshness of the dews that lay upon every thing about me, with the cool breath of the morning, which inspired the birds with so many delightful instincts, created 1 ' ' The tribe of writers, to a man, admire The peaceful grove and from the town retire." — Francis. 239 240 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE in me the same kind of animal pleasure and made my heart overflow with such secret emotions of joy and satisfaction as are not to be described or accounted for. On this occasion, I could not but reflect upon a beautiful simile in Milton : 5 As one who long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoin 'd, from each thing met conceives delight: 10 The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound. Those who are conversant in the ^^Titings of polite authors receive an additional entertainment from the country as it revives in their memories those charming 15 descriptions with which such authors do frequently abound. I was thinking of the foregoing beautiful simile in Milton, and applying it to myself, when I observed to the windward of me a black cloud falling to the 20 earth in long trails of rain, which made me betake myself for shelter to a house I saw at a little distance from the place where I was walking. As I sat in the porch, I heard the voices of two or three persons, who seemed very earnest in discourse. My curiosity was 25 raised when I heard the names of Alexander the Great and Artaxerxes; and as their talk seemed to run on ancient heroes, I concluded there could be no secret in it ; for which reason I thought I might very fairly listen to what they said. so A BED OF TULIPS 241 After several parallels between great men, which appeared to me altogether groundless and chimerical, I was surprised to hear one say that he valued the Black Prince more than the Duke of Vendome. How a the Duke of Vendome should become a rival of the Black Prince, I could not conceive : and was the more startled when I heard a second affirm, with great vehemence, that if the Emperor of Germany was not going off, he should like him better than either of 10 them. He added that, though the season was so changeable, the Duke of Marlborough was in blooming beauty. I was wondering to myself from whence they had received this odd intelligence ; especially when I heard them mention the names of several other great 15 generals, as the Prince of Hesse, and the King of Sweden, who, they said, were both running away. To which they added, what I entirely agreed with them in, that the Crown of France was very weak, but that the Marshal Villars still kept his colors. The 20 shower, which had driven them as well as myself into the house, was now over: and as they were passing by me into the garden, I asked them to let me be one of their company. The gentleman of the house told me, 'if I delighted 25 in flowers, it would be worth my while ; for that he believed he could show me such a blow of tulips as was not to be matched in the whole country. * I accepted the offer, and immediately found that they had been talking in terms of gardening and 30 that the kings and generals they had mentioned were 242 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE only so many tulips, to which the gardeners, according to their nsual custom, had given such high titles and appellations of honor. I was very much pleased and astonished at the glorious show of these gay vegetables, that arose in 5 great profusion on all the banks about us. Sometimes I considered them with the eye of an ordinary spec- tator, as so many beautiful objects varnished over with a natural gloss and stained with such a variety of colors as are not to be equaled in any artificial lo dyes or tinctures. Sometimes I considered every leaf as an elaborate piece of tissue, in which the threads and fibers were woven together into different config- urations, which gave a different coloring to the light as it glanced on the several parts of the surface. if> Sometimes I considered the whole bed of tulips, ac- cording to the notion of the greatest mathematician and philosopher that ever lived, ^ as a multitude of optic instruments, designed for the separating light into all those various colors of which it is composed. 20 I was awakened out of these my philosophical specu- lations by observing the company often seemed to laugh at me. I accidentally praised a tulip as one of the finest I ever saw ; upon which they told me it was a common fool 's coat. Upon that, I praised a 25 second, which it seems was but another kind of fool's coat. I had the same fate with two or three more; for which reason I desired the owner of the garden to let me know which were the finest of the flowers; 1 Sir Tsnae NpTvfori. A BED OF TULIPS 243 for that I was so unskillful in the art that I thought the most beautiful were the most valuable and that those which had the gayest colors were the most beau- tiful. The gentleman smiled at my ignorance. He 5 seemed a very plain honest man and a person of good sense, had not his head been touched with that distemper which Hippocrates calls the TvXiTnrofjirjvLa, Tiilipomania; insomuch that he would talk very rationally on any subject in the world but a tulip. 10 He told me, 'that he valued the bed of flowers which lay before us and was not above twenty yards in length and two in breadth more than he would the best hundred acres of land in England'; and added 'that it would have been worth twice the money it 15 is, if a foolish cookmaid of his had not almost ruined him the last winter by mistaking a handful of tulip roots for a heap of onions and by that means,' says he, "made me a dish of porridge that cost me above a thousand pounds sterling." He then showed me 20 what he thought the finest of his tulips, which I found received all their value from their rarity and oddness, and put me in mind of your great fortunes, which are not always the greatest beauties. I have often looked upon it as a piece of happiness 25 that I have never fallen into any of these fantastical tastes, nor esteemed any thing the more for its being uncommon or hard to be met with. For this reason, I look upon the whole country in springtime as a spacious garden and make as many visits to a spot 30 of daisies, or a bank of violets, as a florist does to his 244 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE borders or parterres. There is not a bush in blossom within a mile of me which I am not acquainted with, nor scarce a daffodil or cowslip that withers away in my neighborhood without my missing it/ I walked home in this temper of mind through several fields 5 and meadows with an unspeakable pleasure, not with- out reflecting on the bounty of providence, which has made the most pleasing and beautiful objects the most ordinary and most common. 1 Addison means, of course, ' ' without my seeing it. ' ' XXXYII AET AND NATUEE [The Spectator, No. 414. — Addison. Wednesday, June £5^ 171£.] Alterius sic Altera poscit opem res et conjurat amice.i — Horace. If we consider the works of nature and art, as tliey are qualified to entertain the imagination, we shall find the last very defective in comparison of the former ; for though they may sometimes appear as 5 beautiful or strange, they can have nothing in them of that vastness and immensity which afford so great an entertainment to the mind of the beholder. The one may be as polite and delicate as the other, but can never show herself so august and magnificent in 10 the design. There is something more bold and mas- terly in the rough, careless strokes of nature than in 1 The full passage of which this is a part, Sir Theodore Martin has translated as follows: ''In all fine work, methinks, each plays a part — Art linked with genius, genius linked with art : Each doth the other's helping hand require. And to one end, they both, like friends, conspire." 245 246 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE the nice touches and embellishments of art. The beauties of the most stately garden or palace lie in a narrow compass, the imagination immediately runs them over, and requires something else to gratify her ; but, in the wide fields of nature, the sight wanders 5 up and down without confinement, and is fed with an infinite variety of images, without any certain stint or number. For this reason we always find the poet in love with a country life, where nature appears in the greatest perfection, and furnishes out all those lo scenes that are most apt to delight the imagination. Scriptorum eliorus omnis amat nemus et fugit urbes.i — Horace. Hie secura quies, et nescia fallere vita, Dives opum variarum, hie latis otia fundis, -^5 Speluncae, vivique laeus, hie frigida Tempe, Mugitusque bourn, mollesque sub arbore somni.2 — Virgil. But though there are several of these wild scenes that are more delightful than any artificial shows ; 20 yet we find the works of nature still more pleasant, the more they resemble those of art : For in this case 1 See p. 239, footnote. 2 Virgil's Georgics 11:467-70; translated by John Coning- ton as follows: ' ' Still they have repose without care and a life where fraud and pretense are unknown. With stores of manifold wealth, they have the liberty of broad domains, grottoes and natural lakes, cool Tempe-like valleys and the lowing of oxen; and luxurious slumbers in the shade are there at their call. ' ' AET AND NATURE 247 our pleasure rises from a double principle ; from the agreeableness of the objects to the eye, and from their similitude to other objects: We are pleased as well with comparing their beauties as with surveying them, 5 and can represent them to our minds either as copies or originals. Hence it is that we take delight in a prospect which is well laid out, and diversified with fields and meadows, w^oods and rivers; in those acci- dental landscapes of trees, clouds, and cities that are 10 sometimes found in the veins of marble; in the curious fretw^ork of rocks and grottoes; and, in a word, in anything that hath such a variety or regu- larity as may seem the effect of design in what we call the w^orks of chance. 15 If the products of nature rise in value, according as they more or less resemble those of art, we may be sure that artificial works receive a greater advantage from their resemblance of such as are natural ; because here the similitude is not only pleasant, but the pat- 20 tern more perfect. The prettiest landscape I ever saw was one drawn on the walls of a dark room, which stood opposite on one side to a navigable river, and on the other to a park. The experiment is very common in optics. Here you might discover the waves 25 and fluctuations of the water in strong and proper colors, with the picture of a ship entering at one end, and sailing by degrees through the whole piece. On another there appeared the green shadows of trees, waving to and fro with the wind and herds of deer 30 among them in miniature, leaping about upon the 248 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE wall. I must confess, the novelty of such a sight may be one occasion of its pleasantness to the imagination, but certainly the chief reason is its near resemblance to nature, as it does not only, like other pictures, give the color and figure, but the motion of the things its represents. We have before observed that there is generally in nature something more grand and august than what we meet with in the curiosities of art. When, there- fore, w^e see this imitated in any measure, it gives usio a nobler and more exalted kind of pleasure than what we receive from the nicer and more accurate produc- tions of art. On this account our English gardens are n^t so entertaining to the fancy as those in France and Italy, where we see a large extent of ground is covered over wuth an agreeable mixture of garden and forest, which represent everywhere an artificial rude- ness, much more charming than that neatness and elegancy which we meet with in those of our own country. It might, indeed, be of ill consequence to 20 the public, as well as unprofitable to private persons, to alienate so much ground from pasturage and the plow, in many parts of a country that is so well peopled, and cultivated to a far greater advantage. But why may not a whole estate be thrown into a kind 25 of garden by frequent plantations, that may turn as much to the profit as the pleasure of the owner? A marsh overgrown with willows, or a mountain shaded with oaks, are not only more beautiful, but more beneficial, than when they lie bare and unadorned, so I AET AND NATUBE 249 Fields of corn make a pleasant prospect, and if the walks were a little taken care of that lie between them, if the natural embroidery of the meadows were helped and improved by some small additions of art, and the 5 several rows of hedges set off by trees and flowers that the soil w^as capable of receiving a man might make a pretty landscape of his own possessions. Writers who have given ns an account of China tell us the inhabitants of that country laugh at the 10 plantations of our Europeans, which are laid out by the rule and line; because, they say, anyone may place trees in equal rows and uniform figures. They choose rather to show a genius in works of this nature, and therefore always conceal the art by w^hich they 15 direct themselves. They have a word, it seems, in their language, by which they express the particular beauty of a plantation that thus strikes the imagination at first sight without discovering what it is that has so agreeable an effect. Our British gardeners, on the 20 contrary, instead of humoring nature, love to deviate from it as much as possible. Our trees rise in cones, globes, and pyramids. We see the marks of the scis- sors upon every plant and bush. I do not know whether I am singular in my opinion, but, for my 25 own part, I would rather look upon a tree in all its luxuriancy and diffusion of boughs and branches than when it is thus cut and trimmed into a mathe- matical figure ; and cannot but fancy that an orchard in flower looks infinitely more delightful than all the 30 little labyrinths of the most finished parterre. But 250 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE as onr great modelers of gardens have their maga- zines of plants to dispose of, it is very natural for them to tear up all the beautiful plantations of fruit trees, and contrive a plan that may most turn to their own profit, in taking off their evergreens, and the like 5 movable plants, with which their shops are plentifully stocked. XXXVIII THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE [The Spectator, No. 70, — Addison. jlonday, May 21, 1711.1 Interdum vulgus rectum videt.i — Horace. When I traveled, I took a particular delight in hearing the songs and fables that are come from father to son and are most in vogue among the com- mon people of the countries through which I passed; 5 for it is impossible that any thing should be univer- sally tasted and approved by a multitude, though they are only the rabble of a nation, which hath not in it some peculiar aptness to please and gratify the mind of man. Human nature is the same in all rea- 10 sonable creatures ; and whatever falls in with it will meet with admirers amongst readers of all qualities and conditions. Moliere, as we are told by Monsieur Boileau, used to read all his comedies to an old woman who w^as his housekeeper, as she sat with him 15 at her work by the chimney corner ; and could fore- tell the success of his play in the theater from the reception it met at his fireside. For he tells us the 1 ' ' The popular judgment now and then is sound. ' ' — Sir Theodore Martin. 251 252 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE audience always followed the old woman and never failed to laugh in the same place. I know nothing which more shows the essential and inherent perfection of simplicity of thought, above that which I call the Gothic manner in writing, than i this, that the first pleases all kinds of palates, and the latter only such as have formed to themselves a wrong, artificial taste upon little fanciful authors and writers of epigram. Homer, Virgil, or Milton, so far as the language of their poems is understood, will] please a reader of plain common sense, who would neither relish nor comprehend an epigram of Martial or a poem of Cowley. So, on the contrary, an ordinary song or ballad that is the delight of the common people cannot fail to please all such readers as are not un- 1 qualified for the entertainment by their affectation j or ignorance; and the reason is plain, because the same paintings of nature which recommend it to the most ordinary reader will appear beautiful to the most refined. 2( The old song of Chevy Chase is the favorite ballad of the common people of England; and Ben Jonson used to say he had rather have been the author of it than of all his works. Sir Philip Sidney in his Dis- course of Poetry speaks of it in the following words : 21 "I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart more moved than with a trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind crowder with no rougher voice than rude style; which being so evil appareled in the dust and cobweb of that so THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 253 uncivil age, what would it work trimmed in the gor- geous eloquence of Pindar?" For my own part, I am so professed an admirer of this antiquated song that I shall give my reader a critic upon it without 5 any further apology for so doing. The greatest modern critics have laid it down as a I rule that an heroic poem should be founded upon some important precept of morality, adapted to the constitution of the country in which the poet writes. LO Homer and Virgil have formed their plans in this view As Greece was a collection of many govern- ments who^ suffered very much among themselves and gave the Persian emperor, who was their common enemy, many advantages over them by their mutual 15 jealousies and animosities, Homer, in order to estab- lish among them an union, which was so necessary for their safety, grounds his poem upon the discords of the several Grecian princes who were engaged in a confederacy against an Asiatic prince, and the sev- 20 eral advantages which the enemy gained by such their discords. At the time the poem we are now treating of was written, the dissensions of the barons, who were then so many petty princes, ran very high, whether they quarreled among themselves, or with 25 their neighbors, and produced unspeakable calamities to the country: The poet, to deter men from such unnatural contentions, describes a bloody battle and dreadful scene of death, occasioned by the mutual feuds which reigned in the families of an English 1 An error for which. 254 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE and^ Scotch nobleman. That he designed this for the instruction of his poem, we may learn fiom his four last lines, in which, after the example of the modern tragedians, he draws from it a precept for the benefit of his readers. God save the King, and bless the Land In Plenty, Joy, and Peace; And grant henceforth that foul Debate Twixt Noblemen may cease. The next point observed by the greatest heroic, poets hath been to celebrate persons and actions which do honor to their country : Thus Virgil 's hero was the founder of Rome, Homer 's a prince of Greece ; and for this reason Valerius Flaccus and Statins, who were both Romans, might be justly derided for having chosen the expedition of the Golden Fleece, and the Wars of Thebes, for the subjects of their epic writings. The poet before us has not only found out an hero in his own country, but raises the reputation of it by 2 several beautiful incidents. The English are the first who take the field, and the last who quit it. The English bring only fifteen hundred to the battle, the Scotch, two thousand. The English keep the field with fifty-three: The Scotch retire with fifty-five: 2 all the rest on each side being slain in battle. But the most remarkable circumstance of this kind, is the different manner in which the Scotch and English 1 An ' ' a ' ' is needed here to make good sense. THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 255 kings receive the news of this fight, and of the great men 's „deaths who commanded in it. This News was brought to Edinburgh, Where Scotland's King did reign, That brave Earl Douglas suddenly Was with an Arrow slain. heavy News, King James did say, Scotland can Witness be, 1 have not any Captain more I Of such Account as he. Like tidings to King Henry came Within as short a Space, That Percy of Northumberland Was slain in Chevy Chase. Now God be with him, said our King, Sith 'twill no better be, I trust I have within my Eealm Five hundred as good as he. Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say But I will Vengeance take, .And be revenged on them all For brave Lord Percy's Sake. This Vow full well the King perform 'd After on Humble-down, In one Day fifty Knights were slain With Lords of great Kenown. And of the rest of small Account Did many Thousands die, &c. 256 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE At the same time that our poet shows a laudable par- tialty to his countrymen, he represents the Scots after a manner not unbecoming so bold and brave a people. Earl Douglas on a milk-white Steed, Most like a Baron bold, I Eode foremost of the Company, Whose Armor shone like Gold. His sentiments and actions are every way suitable to an hero. One of us two, says he, must die; I am an earl as well as yourself, so that you can have noio pretense for refusing the combat : However, says he, 'tis pity, and indeed would be a sin, that so many innocent men should perish for our sakes; rather let you and I^ end our quarrel in single fight. E 'er thus I will out-braved be, 1^ One of us two shall die; I know thee well, an Earl thou art, Lord Percy, so am L But trust me, Percy, Pity it were, And great Offense, to kill 20 Any of these our harmless Men, For they have done no 111. Let thou and I the Battle try, And set our Men aside; Accurst be he. Lord Percy said, * 25 By whom this is deny'd. - Should be ''let you and me.'* THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 257 When these brave men had distinguished them- selves in the battle and in single combat with each other, in the midst of a generous parley, full of heroic sentiments, the Scotch earl falls; and with his dying 5 words encourages his men to revenge his death, repre- senting to them, as the most bitter circumstance of it, that his rival saw him fall. With that there came an Arrow keen Out of an English Bow, 10 Which struck Earl Douglas to the Heart A deep and deadly blow. . •- Who never spoke more Words than these, Fight on my merry Men all. For why, ray Life is at an End, 15 Lord Percy sees my fall. Merry men, in the language of those times, is no more than a cheerful w^ord for companions and fellow sol- diers. A passage in the eleventh book of Virgil's Mneids is very much to be admired, where Camilla 20 in her last agonies, instead of weeping over the wound she had received, as one might have expected from a warrior of her sex, considers only (like the hero of whom we are now speaking) how the battle should be continued after her death. 25 Turn sic expirans, &c. A gathering mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes; And from her cheeks the rosy color flies, Then, turns to her whom of her female train She trusted m'^st, and thus she speaks with pain. 253 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE Acea, 'tis past! He swims before my sight, Inexorable death; and claims his right. Bear my last words to Turnus, fly with speed, And bid him timely to my charge succeed: Eepel the Trojans, and the town relieve: 5 Farewell . Turnus did not die in so heroic a manner; though our poet seems to have had his eye upon Turnus 's speech in the last verse. Lord Percy sees my fall. 10 Vicisti, et victum tendere palmas Ausonii videre .i Earl Percy's lamentation over his enemy is gener- ous, beautiful, and passionate ; I must only caution the reader not to let the simplicity of the style, which is one may well pardon in so old a poet, prejudice him against the greatness of the thought. Then, leaving Life, Earl Percy took The dead Man by the Hand, And said. Earl Douglas for thy Life 20 Would I had lost my Land. O Christ! My very Heart doth bleed With Sorrow for thy Sake; For sure a more renowned Knight Mischance did never take. 25 1 A plea by the conquered Turnus that his captive father "be treated humanely; translated by John Conington as follows: ''You are conqueror; the Ausonians have seen my conquered iand.-' outstretched." THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE 259 That beautiful line Taking the dead man by the hand, will put the reader in mind of ^neas's behavior toward Lausus, whom he himself had slain as he came to the rescue of his aged father. 5 At vero ut vultum vidit morientis, et ora, Ora modis Anchisiades pallentia miris, Ingemuit, miserans graviter, dextramque tetendit, &e. The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead; He griev'd, he wept; then grasp 'd his hand, and said, 10 Poor hapless Youth! What praises can be paid To worth so great ! I shall take another opportunity to consider the other parts of this old song. C XXXIX SIE TIMOTHY TITTLE [The Tatler, No. 165.— Addison. Saturday, April ^9, 1710.] From my own Apartment, April S8. It has always been my endeavor to distinguish between realities and appearances and to separate true merit from the pretense to it. As it shall ever be my study to make discoveries of this nature in human life and to settle the proper distinctions 5 between the virtues and perfections of mankind and those false colors and resemblances of them that shine alike in the eyes of the vulgar, so I shall be more particularly careful to search into the various merits and pretenses of the learned world. This is the more 10 necessary, because there seems to be a general com- bination among the pedants to extol one another's labors and cry up one another's parts; while men of sense, either, through that modesty which is natural to them, or the scorn they have for such trifling com- 15 mendations, enjoy their stock of knowledge, like a hidden treasure, with satisfaction and silence. Pe- dantry indeed, in learning, is like hypocrisy in religion, a form of knowledge without the power of it ; that attracts the eyes of the common people ; 20 breaks out in noise and show; and finds its reward, 260 SIE TIMOTHY TITTLE 261 not from any inward pleasure tliat attends it, but from the praises and approbations which it receives from men. Of this shallow species there is not a more importu- snate, empty, and conceited animal than that which is generally known by the name of a Critic. This, in the common acceptation of the word, is one that, with- out entering into the sense and soul of an author, has a few general rules, which, like mechanical instru- loments, he applies to the works of every writer; and as they quadrate with them, pronounces the author perfect or defective. He is master of a certain set of words, as Unity, Style, Fire, Phlegm, Easy, Nat- ural, Turn, Sentiment, and the like; which he varies, 15 compounds, divides, and throws together, in every part of his discourse, without any thought or mean- ing. The marks you may know him by are an ele- vated eye and a dogmatical brow, a positive voice and a contempt for everything that comes out, whether 20 he has read it or not. He dwells altogether in gen- erals. He praises or dispraises in the lump. He shakes his head very frequently at the pedantry of universities and bursts into laughter when you men- tion an author that is not known at Will's. He hath 25 formed his judgment upon Homer, Horace, and Yir- gil, not from their own works, but from those of Rapin and Bossu. He knows his own strength so well that he never dares praise any thing in which he has not a French author for his voucher. 30 With these extraordinary^ talents and accomplish- 262 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE ments, Sir Timothy Tittle puts men in vogue, or con- dei ms them to obscurity, and sits as judge of life and death upon every author that appears in public. It is impossible to represent the pangs, agonies, and convulsions which Sir Timothy expresses in every 5 feature of his face and muscle of his body upon the reading a bad poet. About a week ago, I was engaged, at a friend's house of mine, in an agreeable conversation with his wife and daughters, when, in the height of our mirth, 10 Sir Timothy, wdio makes love to my friend's eldest daughter, came in amongst us, puffing and blowing as if he had been very much out of breath. He imme- diately called for a chair and desired leave to sit down without any further ceremony. I asked him, 15 where he had been? whether he was out of order? He only replied, that he was quite spent, and fell a cursing in soliloquy. I could hear him cry, "A wicked rogue — an execrable wretch — was there ever such a monster!" The young ladies upon this began 20 to be affrighted, and asked, whether anyone had hurt him? He answered nothing, but still talked to him- self. "To lay the first scene," says he, "in St. James's Park and the last in Northamptonshire ! ' ' "Is that all? "said I. "Then I suppose you have 25 been at the rehearsal of a play this morning." "Been!" says he; "I have been at Northampton, in the park, in a lady's bed-chamber, in a dining- room, everywhere; the rogue has led me such a dance " so SIE TIMOTHY TITTLE 263 Though I could scarce forbear laughing at his dis- course, I told him I was glad it was no worse, and that he was only metaphorically weary. "In short, sir," says he, "the author has not 5 observed a single unity in his whole play; the scene shifts in every dialogue; the villain has hurried me up and down at such a rate that I am tired off my legs." I could not but observe with some pleasure that 10 the young lady whom he made love to conceived a very just aversion toward him, upon seeing him so very passionate in trifles. And as she had that nat- ural sense which makes her a better judge than a thousand critics, she began to rally him upon this 15 foolish humor. "For my part," says she, "I never knew a play take that was written up to your rules, as you call them." "How, Madam!" says he. "Is that your opinion? I am sure you have a better taste. ' ' 20 "'It is a pretty kind of magic," says she, "the • poets have, to transport an audience from place to place without the help of a coach and horses ; I could travel round the world at such a rate. It is such an entertainment as an enchantress finds when she fan- 25 cies herself in a wood, or upon a mountain, at a feast, or a solemnity ; though at the same time she has never stirred out of her cottage." "Your simile. Madam," says Sir Timothy, "is by no means just." 30 "Pray," says she, "let my similes pass without a 264 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE criticism. I must confess," continued she (for I found she was resolved to exasperate him), "I laughed very heartily at the last new comedy which you found so much fault with." * ' But, Madam, ' ' says he, ' ' you ought not to have 5 laughed ; and I defy anyone to show me a single rule that you could laugh by." ''Ought not to laugh!" says she; *'pray who should hinder me?" ' ' Madam, ' ' says he, ' ' there are such people in the 10 world as Rapin, Dacier, and several others, that ought to have spoiled your mirth." ''I have heard," says the young lady, ''that your great critics are always very bad poets : I fancy there is as much difference between the works of the one 15 and the other as there is between the carriage of a dancing-master and a gentleman. I must confess," continued she, "I would not be troubled with so fine a judgment as yours is ; for I find you feel more vexa- tion in a bad comedy than I do in a deep tragedy. ' ' 20 "Madam," says Sir Timothy, "that is not my fault; they should learn the art of writing." "For my part," says the young lady, "I should think the greatest art in your writers of comedies is to please." 25 "To please!" says Sir Timothy; and immediately fell a-laughing. "Truly," says she, "that is my opinion." Upon this he composed his countenance, looked upon his watch, and took his leave. 30 SIR TIMOTHY TITTLE 265 I hear that Sir Timothy has not been at my friend 's house since this notable conference, to the great satis- faction of the young lady, who by this means has got rid of a very impertinent fcp. 5 I must confess, I could not but observe with a great deal of surprise how this gentleman, by his ill-nature, folly, and affectation, had made himself capable of suffering so many imaginary pains and looking with such a senseless severity upon the com- lomon diversions of life. XL THE APPLAUDING TEUNK-MAKEE [The Spectator, No. 235. — Addison. Thursday, Novemler 29, 1711.] Populares Vincentem strepitus .i — Horace. There is nothing which lies more within the prov- ince of a spectator than public shows and diversions ; and as among these there are none which can pretend to vie with those elegant entertainments that are exhibited in our theaters, I think it particularly 5 incumbent on me to take notice of everything that is remarkable in such numerous and refined assemblies. It is observed that, of late years, there has been a certain person in the upper gallery of the playhouse, who, when he is pleased with anything that is acted 10 upon the stage, expresses his approbation by a loud knock upon the benches or the wainscot, which may be heard over the whole theater. This person is com- monly known by the name of the Trunk-maker m the Upper Gallery. Whether it be that the blow he gives 15 on these occasions resembles that which is often heard I'^And awe the mob perforce." — John Conington. 266 THE APPLAUDING TKUNK-MAKEE 267 in the shops of such artisans, or that he was supposed to have been a real trunk-maker, who after the finish- ing of his day's work, used to unbend his mind at these public diversions with his hammer in his hand, 5 I cannot certainly tell. There are some, I know, who have been foolish enough to imagine it is a spirit which haunts the upper gallery, and from time to time makes those strange noises; and the rather, because he is observed to be louder than ordinary 10 every time the ghost of Hamlet appears. Others have reported that it is a dumb man, who has chosen this way of uttering himself, when he is transported with anything he sees or hears. Others will have it to be the playhouse thunderer, that exerts himself after 15 this manner in the upper gallery, when he has nothing to do upon the roof. But having made it my business to get the best information I could in a matter of this moment, I find that the Trunk-maker, as he is commonly called, 20 is a large black man, whom nobody knows. He gen- erally leans forward on a huge oaken plant with great attention to everything that passes upon the stage. He is never seen to smile; but upon hearing anything that pleases him, he takes up his staff with both hands, 25 and lays it upon the next piece of timber that stands in his way with exceeding vehemence : After which he composes himself in his former posture, till such time as something new sets him again at work. It has been observed his blow is so well timed that 30 the most judicious critic could never except against it. 268 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE As soon as any shining thought is expressed in the poet, or any uncommon grace appears in the actor, he smites the bench or wainscot. If the audience does not concur with him, he smites a second time; and if the audience is not yet awaked, looks round him 5' with great wrath, and repeats the blow a third time, which never fails to produce the clap. He sometimes lets the audience begin the clap of themselves, and at the conclusion of their applause ratifies it with a single thwack. lo He is of so great use to the playhouse that it is said a former director of it, upon his not being able to pay his attendance by reason of sickness, kept one in pay to officiate for him till such, time as he recov- ered; but the person so employed, though he laidi5 about him with incredible violence, did it in such wrong places, that the audience soon found out it was not their old friend the Trunk-maker. It has been remarked that he has not yet exerted * himself with vigor this season. He sometimes plies 20 at the opera; and upon Nicolini's first appearance, was said to have demolished three benches in the fury of his applause. He has broken half a dozen oaken plants upon Doggett, and seldom goes away from a tragedy of Shakespeare without leaving tl© wainscot 25 extremely shattered. The players do not only connive at this his obstrep- erous approbation, but very cheerfully repair at their own cost whatever damages he makes. They had once a thought of erecting a kind of wooden anvil for his so THE APPLAUDING TEUNK-MAKEE 269 use, that should be made of a very sounding plank, in order to render his strokes more deep and mellow; but as this might not have been distinguished from the music of a kettledrum, the project was laid aside. 5 In the meanwhile I cannot but take notice of the great use it is to an audience that a person should thus preside over their heads, like the director of a consort, in order to aw^aken their attention, and beat time to their applauses. Or to raise my simile, I 10 have sometimes fancied the Trunk-maker in the Upper Gallery to be like Yirgil's Ruler of the Winds, seated upon the top of a mountain, who, when he struck his scepter upon the side of it, roused an hurricane, and set the whole cavern in an uproar. 15 It is certain the Trunk-maker has saved many a good play, and brought many a graceful actor into reputation, who would not otherwise have been taken notice of. It is very visible, as the audience is not a little abashed, if they find themselves betrayed into a 20 clap, when their friend in the upper gallery does not come into it; so the actors do not value themselves upon the clap, but regard it as a mere hrutum fulmen, or empty noise, when it has not the sound of the oaken plant in it. I know it has been given out by 25 those who are enemies to the Trunk-maker that he has sometimes been bribed to be in the interest of a bad poet, or a vicious player; but this is a surmise, which has no foundation ; his strokes are always just, and his admonitions seasonable ; he does not deal about 30 his blows at random, but always hits the right nail 270 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE upon the head. The inexpressible force wherewith he lays them on sufficiently shows the evidence and strength of his conviction. His zeal for a good author is indeed outrageous, and breaks down every force and partition, every board and plank, that stands within 5 the expression of his applause. As I do not care for terminating my thoughts in barren speculations, or in reports of pure matter of fact, without drawing something from them for the advantage of my countrymen, I shall take the liberty lo to make an humble proposal, that whenever the Trunk-maker shall depart this life, or whenever he shall have lost the spring of his arm by sickness, old age, infirmit}^, or the like, some able-bodied critic should be advanced to this post, and have a competent i5 salary settled on him for life, to be furnished with bamboos for operas, crabtree-cudgels for comedies, and oaken plants for tragedy, at the public expense. And to the end that this place should always be disposed of according to merit, I would have none 20 preferred to it who has not given convincing proofs, both of a sound judgment and a strong arm, and who could not, upon occasion, either knock down an ox or write a comment upon Horace's Art of Poetry. In short, I would have him a due composi- 25 tion of Hercules and Apollo, and so rightly qualified for this important office that the Trunk-maker may not be missed by our posterity. C XLI NICOLINI AND THE LIONS [The Spectator, No. 13. — Addison. Thursday, March 15, 1710-11.] Die mihi, si fias tu leo, qualis eris? i — Martial. There is nothing that of late years has afforded matter of greater amusement to the town than Signior Nicolini 's combat with a lion in the Haymarket, which has been very often exhibited to the general satisfac- 5 tion of most of the nobility and gentry in the kingdom of Great Britain. Upon the first rumor of this intended combat, it w^as confidently affirmed, and is still believed by many in both galleries, that there would be a tame lion sent from the Tower every opera 10 night, in order to be killed by Hydaspes ; this report, though altogether groundless, so universally prevailed in the upper regions of the playhouse that some of the most refined politicians in those parts of the audi- ence gave it out in whisper that the lion was a cousin- 15 german of the tiger who made his appearance in King William's days, and that the stage would be supplied with lions at the public expense, during the whole 1 i^^Were you a lion, how would you behave?'^ 271 272 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE session. Many likewise were the conjectures of the treatment which this lion was to meet with from the hands of Signior Nicolini ; some supposed that he was to subdue him in reciiativo, as Orpheus used to serve the wild beasts in his time, and afterwards to knocks him on the head; some fancied that the lion would not pretend to lay his paws upon the hero, by reason of the received opinion that a lion will not hurt a virgin: Several, who pretended to have seen the opera in Italy, had informed their friends that the i< lion was to act a part in High-Dutch, and roar twice or thrice to a thorough bass before he fell at the feet of Hydaspes. To clear up a matter that was so vari- ously reported, I have made it my business to examine whether this pretended lion is really the savage he ii appears to be, or only a counterfeit. But before I communicate my discoveries, I must acquaint the reader that upon my walking behind the scenes last winter, as I was thinking on something else, I accidentally jostled against a monstrous ani- 2c mal that extremely startled me and, upon my nearer survey of it, appeared to be a lion rampant. The lion, seeing me very much surprised, told me, in a gentle* voice that I might come by him if I pleased: ''For (says he) I do not intend to hurt anybody." 1 25 thanked him very kindly, and passed by him. And in a little time after saw him leap upon the stage, and act his part with very great applause. It has been observed by several that the lion has changed his manner of acting twice or thrice since his first appear- 30 NICOLINI AND THE LIONS 273 ance; which will not seem strange when I acquaint my reader that the lion has been changed upon the audience three several times. The first lion was a candle snuffer, who, being a fellow of a testy choleric 5 temper, overdid his part, and would not suffer himself to be killed so easily as he ought to have done ; besides, it was observed of him that he grew more surly every time he came out of the lion; and having dropped some words in ordinary conversation, as if he had 10 not fought his best, and thdlrhe suffered himself to be thrown upon his back in the scuffle, and that he would wrestle with Mr. Nicolini for what he pleased, out of his lion's skin, it was thought proper to discard him:^ And it is verily believed to this day that had he been 15 brought upon the stage another time, he would cer- tainly have done mischief. Besides, it was objected against the first lion that he reared himself so high upon his hinder paws, and walked in so erect a posture that he looked more like an old man than a 20 lion. The second lion was a tailor by trade, who belonged to the playhouse, and had the character of a mild and peaceable man in his profession. If the former was too furious, this was too sheepish, for his part; inso- 25 much that, after a short modest walk upon the stage^ he would fall at the first touch of Hydaspes, without grappling with him, and giving him an opportunity of showing his variety of Italian trips: it is said indeed, that he once gave him a rip in his flesh- so color doublet, but this was only to make work for 274 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE himself, in his private character of a tailor. I must not omit that it was this second lion who treated me with so much humanity behind the scenes. The acting lion at present is, as I am informed, a country gentleman, who does it for his diversion, but 5 desires his name may be concealed. He says very handsomely in his own excuse, that he does not act for gain, that he indulges an innocent pleasure in it, and that it is better to pass a^^y an evening in this manner than in gaming and (^rmling : But at the same time lo says, with a very agreeab'iJjisaillery upon himself, that if his name should be known, the ill-natured world might call him, the ass in the lion 's skin. This gentle- man's tempe^is made out of such a happy mixture of the mild" and the choleric that he outdoes both his is predecessors, and has drawn together greater audi- ences than have been known in the memory of man. I must not conclude my narrative without taking riotice of a groundless report that has been raised, to a gentleman 's disadvantage of whom I must declare 20 myself an admirer ; namely, that Signior Nieolini and the lion have been seen sitting peaceably by one another, and smoking a pipe together, behind the scenes ; by which their common enemies Avould insinu- ate that it is but a sham combat which they represent 25 upon the stage : But upon inquiry I find that if any such correspondence has passed between them, it was not till the combat was over, when th^^n was to be looked upon as dead, according to the^ceived rules of the drama. Besides, this is what is practiced every so NICOLINI AND THE LIONS - 275 day in Westminster Hall, where nothing is more usual than to see a couple of lawyers, who have been tearing each other to pieces in the court, embracing one an- other as soon as they are out of it. 5 I would not be thought, in any part of this relation^ to reflect upon Signior Nicolini, who in acting this part only complies with the wretched taste of his audi- ence ; he knows very well that the lion has many more admirers than himself; as ile*ey say, of the famous 10 equestrian statue on the Ppfct-Neuf at Paris, that more people go to see the horse than the king who sits upon it. On the contrary, it gives me a just indig- nation to see a person' whose action gives Jiew majesty to kings, resolution to heroes, and softness to lovers, 15 thus sinking from the greatness of his behavior, and degraded into the character of the London Prentice. I have often wished that our tragedians would copy after this great master in action. Could they make the same use of their arms and legs, and inform their 20 faces with as significant looks and passions, how glori- ous would an English tragedy appear with that action, which is capable of giving a dignity to the forced thoughts, cold conceits, and unnatural expressions of an Italian opera. In the meantime, I have related 25 this combat of the lion to show what are at present the reigning entertainments of the politer part of Great Britain. 1 Audiences have often been reproached by writers I for the coarseness of their taste, but our present 80 grievance does not seem to be the want of a good taste, but of common sense. C XLII THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS [The Spectator, No. 558. — Addison. Wednesday, June 23, j,17U.-] Qui' fit, Maecenas, ut nemo, quam sibi Gortem Sen ratio dederit, sen fors objecerit, ilia Contentus vivat, laudet diversa sequentes? O fortunati mercatores, gravis annis Miles ait, multo jam fractus membra labore! 5 Contra mercator, navim jactantibus austris: Militia est potior. Quid euim? Coneurritur? horae Momento cita mors venit, aut victoria laeta. Agricolam laudat juris legumque peritus, Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat, IC Hie, datis vadibus qui rure extractus in urbem est, Solos feliees viventes clamat in urbe. Cetera de genere hoc (adeo sunt multa) loquacem Delassare valent Eabium. Ne te morer, audi. Quo rem deducam. Siquis Deus, en ego, dicat, 15 Jam faciam quod vultis; eris tu, qui modo miles, Mercator: tu eonsultus modo rusticus, Hinc vos, Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus. Eia! Quid statis? Nolint. Atqui licet esse beatis.i — Horace. 20 1 ' ' How comes it, say, Maecenas, if you can, That none will live, like a contented man, Where choice or chance directs, but each must praise The folk who pass through life by other ways? 276 THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS 277 It is a celebrated thought of Socrates that if all the misfortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those w^ho now think themselves the most un- 5 happy would prefer the share they are already pos- sessed of before that which would fall to them by such a division. Horace has carried this thought a great deal further in the motto of my paper, which implies that the hardships or misfortunes we lie under are 10 more easy to us than those of any other person would be, in case we could change conditions with him. As I was ruminating on these two remarks and '^ Those lucky merckants! " cries the soldier stout When years of toil have well-nigh worn him out: What says the merchant, tossing o'er the brine? ''Yon soldier's lot is happier sure than mine. One short, sharp shock, and presto! all is done: Death in an instant comes, or victory's won." The lawyer lauds the farmer, when a knock Disturbs his sleep at crowing of the cock: The farmer, dragged to town on business, swears That only citizens are free from cares. I need not run through all; so long the list, Fabius himself would weary and desist: So take in brief my meaning; just suppose Some God should come, and with their wishes close: ''See here am I, come down of my mere grace To right you. Soldier, take the merchant's place! You, counsellor, the farmer's! Go your way One here, one there! None stirring? All say nay? How now? You won't be happy when you may?" Horace: Satires 1:1:1. Translated ty John Conington. 278 ESSAYS BY ADDISON" AND STEELE seated in m}^ elbow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a sudden, methought there was a proclama- tion made by Jupiter that every mortal should bring in his griefs and calamities and thro^v them together in a heap. There was a large plain appointed for this 5 purpose. I took my stand in the center of it and saw with a great deal of pleasure the whole human species marching one after another, and throwing down their several loads, which immediately grew up into a pro- digious mountain that seemed to rise above the clouds, lo There was a certain lady of a thin airy shape, who was very active in this solemnity. She carried a magnifying glass in one of her hands, and was clothed in a loose flowing robe, embroidered with several fig- ures of fiends and specters, that discovered themselves is in a thousand chimerical shapes as her garment hov- ered in the wdnd. There was something wild and dis- tracted in her looks. Her name was Fancy. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, after having very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, 20 and laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me to see m}^ fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burthens, and to consider that prodig- ious bulk of human calamities which lay before me. There were, however, several persons who gave me 25 great diversion upon this occasion. I observed one bringing in a fardel very carefully concealed under an old embroidered cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the heap, I discovered to be poverty. Another, after a great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage ; 30 w^hich, upon examining, I found to be his wife. THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS 279 There were multitudes of lovers saddled with very whimsical burthens, composed of darts and flames; but, what was very odd, though they sighed as if their hearts would break under these bundles of 5 calamities, they could not persuade themselves to cast them into the heap, when they came up to it; but after a few faint efforts, shook their heads and marched away, as heavy loaden as they came. I saw multitudes of old women throw down their wrinkles, 10 and several young ones who stripped themselves of a tawny skin. There were very great heaps of red noses, large lips, and rusty teeth. The truth of it is, I was surprised to see the greatest part of the moun- tain made up of bodily deformities. Observing one 15 advancing toward the heap with a larger cargo than ordinary upon his back, I found upon his near ap- proach that it was only a natural hump, which he disposed of, with great joy of heart, among this col- lection of human miseries. There were likewise distem- 20 pers of all sorts, though I could not but observe, that there were many more imaginary than real. One little packet I could not but take notice of, which was a com- plication of all the diseases incident to human nature, and was in the hand of a great many fine people : This 25 was called the spleen. But what most of all surprised me was a remark I made, that there was not a single vice or folly thrown into the whole heap : At which I was very much astonished, having concluded within myself, that every one would take this opportunity of 30 getting rid of his passions, prejudices, and frailties. 280 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE I took notice in particular of a very profligate fellow, who I did not question came loaden with his crimes, but upon searching into his bundle, I found that instead of throwing his guilt from him, he had only laid down his memory. He was followed by 5 another worthless rogue, who flung away his modesty - instead of his ignorance. When the whole race of mankind had thus cast their burdens, the phantom, which had been so busy on this occasion, seeing me an idle spectator of what 10 passed, approached toward me. I grew uneasy at her presence, when of a sudden she held her magnify- ing glass full before my eyes. I no sooner saw my face in it but was startled at the shortness of it, which now appeared to me in its utmost aggravation. 15 The immoderate breadth of the features made me very much out of humor with my own countenance, upon which I threw it from me like a mask. It hap- pened very luckily that one who stood by me had just before thrown down his visage, which, it seems, was 20 too long for him. It was indeed extended to a most shameful length; I believe the very chin was, mod- estly speaking, as long as my whole face. We had both of us an opportunity of mending ourselves, and, all the contributions being now brought in, every 25 man was at liberty to exchange his misfortune for those of another person. But as there arose many new incidents in the sequel of my vision, I shall re- serve them for the subject of my next paper. XLIII THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS No. II [The Spectator, No. 559. — Addison. Friday, June 25, 1714.} Quid causae est, merito quiu illis Jupiter ambas Iratus buecas inflet, neque se fore posthac Tarn f aeilem dieat, votis ut praebeat aurem ? i — Horace. In my last paper, I gave my reader a sight of that mountain of miseries which was made up of those several calamities that afflict the minds of men. I saw, with unspeakable pleasure, the whole species thus 5 delivered from its sorrows ; though, at the same time, as we stood round the heap, and surveyed the several materials of which it was composed, there was scarce a mortal, in this vast multitude, who did not discover what he thought pleasures and blessings of life; and 10 wondered how the owners of them ever came to look upon them as burthens and grievances. As we were regarding very attentively this con- fusion of miseries, this chaos of calamity, Jupiter 1 ^^'^^ere it not most fitting, now, that Jove at this should fume and vow. He never, never, would again give credence to the prayers of men. ' ' — Sir Theodore Martin, 281 282 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE issued out a second proclamation, that every one was now at liberty to exchange his affliction, and to return to his habitation with any such other bundle as should be delivered to him. Upon this, Fancy began again to bestir herself, 5 and, parceling out the whole heap with incredible activity, recommended to every one his particular packet. The hurry and confusion at this time was not to be expressed. Some observations, which I made upon the occasion, I shall communicate to the public. 10 A venerable gray-headed man, who had laid down the colic, and who, I found, wanted an heir to his estate, snatched up an undutiful son, that had been thrown into the heap by his angry father. The graceless youth, in less than a quarter of an hour, i5 pulled the old gentleman by the beard, and had like to have knocked his brains out; so that meeting the true father, who came toward him in a fit of the gripes, he begged him to take his son again, and give back his colic ; but they were incapable, either of 20 them, to recede from the choice they had made. A poor galley slave, who had thrown down his chains, took up the gout in their stead, but made such wry faces that one might easily perceive he was no great gainer by the bargain. It was pleasant enough to 25 see the several exchanges that were made, for sickness against poverty, hunger against want of appetite, and care against pain. The female world were very busy among themselves in bartering for features ; one was trucking a lock of 30 THE VISION OF DISCONTENTS NO. II 283 gray hairs for a carbuncle, another was making over a short waist for a pair of round shoulders, and a third cheapening a bad face for a lost reputaticn : But on all these occasions, there was not one of them 5 who did not think the new blemish, as soon as sl:e had got it into her possession, much more disagreeable than the old one. I made the same observation on every other misfortune or calamity, which every one in the assembly brought upon himself, in lieu of what 10 he had parted with; whether it be that all the evils which befall us are in some measure suited and pro- portioned to our strength, or that every evil becomes more supportable by our being accustomed to it, I shall not determine. 15 I could not for my heart forbear pitying the poor hump-backed gentleman mentioned in the former paper, who went off a very w^ell-shaped person with a stone in his bladder ; nor the fine gentleman who had struck up this bargain with him, that limped 20 through a whole assembly of ladies who used to admire him, v>dth a pair of shoulders peeping over his head. I must not omit my own particular adventure. My friend with the long visage had no sooner taken upon him my short face, but he made such a grotesque 25 figure in it that, as I looked upon him, I could not forbear laughing at myself, insomuch that I put my own face out of countenance. The poor gentleman was so sensible of the ridicule that I found he was ashamed of what he had done : On the other side I 30 found that I myself had no great reason to triumph, 284 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE for as I went to touch my forehead I missed the place and clapped my finger upon my upper lip. Besides, as my nose was exceeding prominent, I gave it two or three unlucky knocks as I was playing my hand about my face, and aiming at some other part of it. I saw 5 two other gentlemen by me, who were in the same ridiculous circumstances. These had made a foolish swap between a couple of thick bandy legs, and two long trapsticks that had no calfs to them. One of these looked like a man walking upon stilts, and was i< so lifted up into the air above his ordinary height that his head turned round with it, while the other made such awkward circles, as he attempted to walk, that he scarce knew how to move forward upon his new supporters : Observing him to be a pleasant kind ie of fellow, I stuck my cane in the ground, and told him I would lay him a bottle of wine that he did not march up to it on a line, that I drew for him, in a quarter of an hour. The heap was at last distributed among the two 20 sexes, who made a most piteous sight, as they wan- dered up and down under the pressure of their sev- eral burthens. The whole plain was filled with mur- murs and complaints, groans and lamentations. Jupiter at length, taking compassion on the poor 25 mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. They discharged themselves with a great deal of pleasure, after which, the phantom, who had led them into such gross delusions, was commanded to so THE VISION 01^ DISCONTENTS NO. II 285 disappear. There was sent in her stead a goddess of a quite different figure : her motions were steady and composed, and her aspect serious but cheerful. She every now and then cast her eyes toward heaven, 5 and fixed them upon Jupiter : her name was Patience. She had no sooner placed herself by the mount of sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the whole heap sunk to such a degree, that it did not appear a third part so big as it was before. She 10 afterwards returned every man his own proper calam- ity, and teaching him how to bear it in the most commodious manner,^ he marched off with it con- tentedly, being ver}^ well pleased that he had not been left to his own choice as to the kind of evils 15 which fell to his lot. Besides the several pieces of morality to be drawn out of this vision, I learnt from it never to repine at my own misfortunes, or to envy the happiness of another, since it is impossible for any man to form a 20 right judgment of his neighbor's sufferings ; for which reason also I have determined never to think too lightly of another's complaints, but to regard the sorrows of my fellow creatures with sentiments of humanity and compassion. 1 Note that this clause lias no grammatical relation to the rest of the sentence. XLIY A CURE FOR THE SPLEEN [The Tatler, No. 80, II.— Steele. Thursday, Octoter 13, 1709.] White's Chocolate House, October 12. It will be allowed me that I have all along showed great respect in matters which concern the fair sex; bnt the inhumanity with which the author of the following letter has been used is not to be suffered. October 9. 5 ''Sir, — Yesterday, I had the misfortune to drop in at my lady Haughty 's upon her visiting-day. When I entered the room where she receives company, they all stood up indeed; but they stood as if they were to stare at, rather than to receive, me. After a long 10 pause, a servant brought a round stool, on which I sat down at the lower end of the room, in the presence of no less than twelve persons, gentlemen and ladies, lolling in elbow-chairs. And, to complete my disgrace, my mistress was of the society. I tried to compose 15 myself in vain, not knowing how to dispose of either legs or arms, nor how to shape my countenance; the eyes of the whole room being still upon me in a pro- found silence. My confusion at last was so great that, 286 A CUEE FOE THE SPLEEN 287 without speaking, or being spoken to, I fled for it and left the assembly to treat me at their discretion. A lecture from you upon these inhuman distinctions in a free nation will, I doubt not, prevent the like evils 5 for the future and make it, as we say, as cheap sitting as standing. I am with the greatest respect. Sir, ''Your most humble and most obedient servant, ''J. E. "P. S. I had almost forgot to inform you that a 10 fair young lady sat in an armless chair upon my right hand with manifest discontent in her looks.'' Soon after the receipt of this epistle, I heard a very gentle knock at my door: my m.aid went down and brought up word, "that a tall, lean, black man, well 15 dressed, who said he had not the honor to be ac- quainted with me, desired to be admitted." I bid her show him up, met him at my chamber door, and then fell back a few paces. He approached me with great respect and told me, with a low voice, ''he was 20 the gentleman that had been seated upon the round stool." I immediately recollected that there was a joint stool in my chamber, which I was afraid he might take for an instrument of distinction, and there- fore winked at my boy to carry it into my closet. 25 1 then took him by the hand and led him to the upper end of my room, where I placed him in my great elbow-chair ; at the same time drawing another with- out arms to it for myself to sit by him. I then asked him, "at what time this misfortune befell him?" 30 He ai:swered, "between the hours of seven and eight 288 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE in the evening." I farther demanded of him, what he had eat or drank that day ? He replied, ' ' nothing but a dish of water gruel with a few plums in it." In the next place, I felt his pulse, w^hich was very low and languishing. These circumstances confirmed me t in an opinion, which I had entertained upon the first reading of his letter, that the gentleman was far gone in the spleen. I therefore advised him to rise the next morning and plunge into a cold bath, there to remain under water until he was almost drowned, i This I ordered him to repeat six days successively; and on the seventh to repair at the wonted hour to my lady Haughty 's and to acquaint me afterward with what he shalP meet with there and particularly to tell me, whether he shall think they stared uponi him so much as the time before. The gentleman smiled; and by his way of talking to me, showed himself a man of excellent sense in all particulars, unless when a cane chair, a round or a joint stool, were spoken of. He opened his heart to me at the 2 same time concerning several other grievances ; such as being overlooked in public assemblies, having his bows unanswered, being helped last at table, and placed at the back part of a coach; with many other distresses, which have withered his countenance, and 21 "worn him to a skeleton. Finding him a man of rea- son, I entered into the bottom of his distemper. ''Sir," said I, "there are more of your constitution in this island of Great Britain than in any other part 1 An error for ' ' should. ' ' A CUEE FOR THE SPLEEN 289 of the world; and I beg the favor of you to tell me whether you do not observe that you meet with most affronts in rainy days?" He answered candidly^ *'that he had long observed that people were less 5 saucy in sunshine than in cloudy weather." Upon which I told him plainly, "his distemper was the spleen; and that, though the world was very ill- natured, it was not so bad as he believed it. " I fur- ther assured him, that his use of the cold bath, with 10 a course of steel which I should prescribe him, would certainly cure most of his acquaintance of their rude- ness, ill-behavior, and impertinence." My patient smiled and promised to observe my prescriptions, not forgetting to give me an account of their operation. 15 This distemper being pretty epidemical, I shall for the benefit of mankind, give the public an account of the progress I make in the cure of it. XLY TEMPERATE LIVING [The Spectator, No. 195. — Addison. Saturday, Octoher IS, 1711.] NT^TTiot^ ovok taacTiv^ oaio ttXIov rjjxlav Travros, OiiS' opov iv fJLaXd)(r] re Kal aacfioSeXw /xey' ovevap.^ — Hesiod. There is a story in the Arabian Nights Tales of a king who had long languished under an ill habit of body, and had taken abundance of remedies to no purpose. At length, says the fable, a physician cured him by the following method. He took an 5 hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several drugs, after which he closed it up so artificially that nothing appeared. He likewise took a mall, and after having hollowed the handle, and that part which strikes the ball, he enclosed in them several drugs after the same 10 manner as in the ball itself. He then ordered the sultan, who was his patient, to exercise himself early in the morning, with these rightly prepared instru- ments, till such time as he should sweat. When, as the story goes, the virtue of the medicaments per- 15 spiring through the wood, had so good an influence 1 ' ' Pools not to know that half exceeds the whole, How blest the sparing meal and temperate bowl ! ' ' 290 TEMPEEATE LIVING 291 on the sultan's constitution, that they cured him of an indisposition which all the compositions he had taken inwardly had not been able to remove. This Eastern allegory is finely contrived to show us how 5 beneficial bodily labor is to health, and that exercise is the most effectual physic. I have described, in my hundred and fifteenth paper, from the general structure and mechanism of an human body, how absolutely necessary exercise is for its preservation. 10 I shall in this place recommend another great pre- servative of health, which in many cases produces the same effects as exercise, and may, in some measure, supply its place, where opportunities of exercise are wanting. The preservative I am speaking of is tem- 15 perance, which. has those particular advantages above all other means of health that it may be practiced by all ranks and conditions, at any season, or in any place. It is a kind of regimen, into which every man may put himself, without interruption to business, 20 expense of money, or loss of time. If exercise throws off all superfluities, temperance prevents them. If exercise clears the vessels, temperance neither satiates nor overstrains them. If exercise raises proper fer- ments in the humors, and promotes the circulation 25 of the blood, temperance gives nature her full play, and enables her to exert herself in all her force and vigor. If exercise dissipates a growing distemper, temperance starves it. Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the 30 substitute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are 292 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE indeed absolutely necessaiy in acute distempers, that cannot wait the slow operations of these two great instruments of health ; but did men live in an habitual course of exercise and temperance, there would be but little occasion for them. Accordingly we find that 5 those parts of the world are the most healthy, where they subsist by the chase ; and that men lived longest when their lives were employed in hunting, and when they had little food besides what they caught. Blis- tering, cupping, bleeding are seldom of use but to the lo idle and intemperate ; as all those inward applications which are so much in practice among us are for the most part nothing else but expedients to make luxury consistent with health. The apothecary is perpetually employed in countermining the cook and the vintner, is It is said of Diogenes, that, meeting a young man who was going to a feast, he took him up in the street and carried him home to his friends, as one who was running into imminent danger, had not he prevented him. "What would that philosopher have 20 said, had he been present at the gluttony of a modern meal? Would not he have thought the master of a family mad, and have begged his servants to tie down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish, and flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; 25 throw down salads of twenty different herbs, sauces of an hundred ingredients, confections and fruits of numberless sweets and flavors ? What unnatural motions and counterferments must such a medley of iutemperance produce in the body? For my part, so TEMPEEATE LIVING 293 when I behold a fashionable table set out in all its magnificence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies, fevers and lethargies, with other innumerable dis- tempers, lying in ambuscade among the dishes. 5 Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs are the food of this species, fish of that, and flesh of a third. Man falls upon eYevy thing that comes in his way ; not the smallest fruit or excrescence of the earth, 10 scarce a berry or a mushroom, can escape him. It is impossible to lay down any determinate riile for temperance, because what is luxury in one may be temperance in another; but there are few that have lived any time in the world who are not judges 15 of their own constitutions, so far as to know what kinds and what proportions of food do best agree with them. Were I to consider my readers as my patients, and to prescribe such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to all persons, and such as is 20 particularly suitable to our climate and way of living, I would copy the following rules of a very eminent physician. Make your whole repast out of one dish. If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking anything strong till you have finished your meal; at the same 25 time abstain from all sauces, or at least such as are rot the most plain ?nd simple. A man could not be weU guilty of gluttony, if he stuck to these few obvious and easy rules. In the first case there would be no variety of tastes to solicit his palate, and occasion 30 excess; nor in the second any artificial provocatives 294 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE to relieve satiety, and create a false appetite. Were I to prescribe a rule for drinking, it should be formed upon a saying quoted by Sir William Temple : the first glass for myself, the second for my friends, the third for good humor, and the fourth for mine ene- 5 mies. But because it is impossible for one who lives in the world to diet himself always in so philosophical a manner, I think every man should have his days of abstinence, according as his constitution will per- mit. These are great reliefs to nature, as they qualify lo her for struggling with hunger and thirst, whenever any distemper or duty of life may put her upon such difficulties ; and at the same time give her an oppor- tunity of extricating herself from her oppressions, and recovering the several tones and springs of her 15 distended vessels. Besides that, abstinence well timed often kills a sickness in embryo, and destroys the first seeds of an indisposition. It is observed by two or three ancient authors that Socrates, notwithstand- ing he lived in Athens during that Great Plague 20 which has made so much noise through all ages, and has been celebrated at different times by such emi- nent hands, I say, notwithstanding that he lived in the time of this devouring pestilence, he never caught the least infection, which those writers unanimously 25- ascribe to that uninterrupted temperance which he always observed. And here I cannot but mention an observation which I have often made, upon reading the lives of the philosophers, and comparing it with any series so TEMPEEATE LIVi:^rG 295 of kings or great men of the same number. If we consider these ancient sages, a great part of whose philosophy consisted in a temperate and abstemious course of life, one would think the life of a philoso- spher, and the life of a man, were of two different dates. For we find that the generality of these wise men were nearer an hundred than sixty years of age at the time of their respective deaths. But the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of temperance 10 toward the procuring of long life is what we meet with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro, the Venetian, which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubted credit, as the late Venetian ambassador, who was of the same family, attested more than once 15 in conversation, when he resided in England. Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatise I am mentioning, was of an infirm constitution till about forty, when by obstinately persisting in an exact course of temperance, he recovered a perfect 20 state of health; insomuch that at fourscore he pub- lished his book, which has been translated into Eng- lish under the title of The Sure Way of Attaining a Long and Healthful Life. He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and after having passed his 25 hundredth year, died without pain or agony, and like one who falls asleep. The treatise I mention has been taken notice of by several eminent authors, and is written with such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion^ and good sense as are the natural concomitants of 30 temperance and sobriety. . The mixture of the old 296 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE man in it is rather a recommendation than a discredit to it. Having designed this paper as the sequel to that upon exercise, I have not here considered temperance as it is a moral virtue, which I shall make the subjects of a future speculation, but only as it is the means of health. L XLYI THE LOTTEEY [The Spectator, No. 191, — Addison. Tuesday, Octoter 9, — ovXov oveipov^ Some ludicrous schoolmen have put the case that if an ass were placed between two bundles of hay, which affected his senses equally on each side, and tempted him in the very same degree, whether it 5 would be possible for him to eat of either. They generally determine this question to the disadvantage of the ass, who they say would starve in the midst of plenty, as not having a single grain of free will to determine him more to the one than to the other. 10 The bundle of hay on either side, striking his sight and smell in the same proportion, would keep him in a perpetual suspense, like the two magnets which, travelers have told us, are placed, one of them in the roof, and the other in the floor cf ^lahomet's burying 15 place at Mecca, and by that means, say they, pull the impostor's iron coffin with such an equal attraction that it hangs in the air between both of them. As for the ass's behavior in such nice circumstances, " whether he would starve sooner than violate his neu- 1 ' ' Baneful dream. " 297 298 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE trality to the two bundles of hay, I shall not presume to determine; but only take notice of the conduct of our own species in the same perplexity. When a man has a mind to venture his money in a lottery, every figure of it appears equally alluring, and as likely to 5 succeed as any of its fellows. They all of them have the same pretensions to good luck, stand upon the same foot of competition, and no manner of reason can be given why a man should prefer one to the other before the lottery is drawn. In this case, therefore, lo caprice very often acts in the place of reason, and forms to itself some groundless imaginary motive, where real and substantial ones are wanting. I know a well meaning man that is very well pleased to risk his good fortune upon the number 1711, because it is is the year of our Lord. I am acquainted with a tacker that would give a good deal for the number 134. On the contrary, I have been told of a certain zealous dissenter who, being a great enemy to popery, and believing that bad men are the most fortunate 20 in this world, will lay two to one on the number 1666 against any other number, because, says he, it is the number of the beast. Several would prefer the num- ber 12,000 before any other, as it is the number of the pounds in the great prize. In short, some are 25 pleased to find their own age in their number; some that they have got a number which makes a pretty appearance in the ciphers, and others because it is the same number that succeeded in the last lottery. Each of these, upon no other grounds, thinks he so THE LOTTEEY • 299 stands fairest for the great lot, and that he is pos- sessed of what may not be improperly called the golden number. These principles of election are the pastimes and 5 extravagances of human reason, which is of so busy a nature that it will be exerting itself in the meanest trifles, and working even when it wants materials. The wisest of men are sometimes acted by such unac- countable motives, as the life of the fool and the 10 superstitious is guided by nothing else. I am surprised that none of the fortune tellers, or as the French call them, the Diseurs de tonne aven- hire, who publish their bills in every quarter of the town, have not turned our lotteries to their advan- 15 tage : did any of them set up for a caster of fortunate figures, what might he not get by his pretended discoveries and predictions? I remember among the advertisements in the Post- hoy of September the 27th, I was surprised to see 20 the following one. This is to give notice. That ten shillings over and above the market price will be given for the ticket in 1,500,000L lottery. No. 132, by Nath Cliff at the Bible and Three Crowns in Cheapside. 25 This advertisement has given great matter of specu- lation to coffee house theorists. Mr. Cliff's principles and conversation have been canvassed upon this occa- sion, and various conj^ectures made why he should thus set his heart upon No. 132. I have examined all 30 the powers in those numbers, broken them into frac- 300 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE tions, extracted the square and cube root, divided and multiplied them all ways, but could not arrive at the secret till about three days ago, when I received the following letter from an unknown hand; by which I find that Mr. Nathaniel Cliff is only the 5 agent, and not the principal, in this advertisement. ''Mr. Spectator, I am the person that lately advertised I would give ten shillings more than the current price for the ticket No. 132 in the lottery now drawing, which lo is a secret I have communicated to some friends, who rally me incessantly upon that account. You must know I have but one ticket, for which reason, and a certain dream I have lately had more than once, I was resolved it should be the number I most approved. i5 I am so positive I have pitched upon the great lot that I could almost lay all I am worth of it. My visions are so frequent and strong upon this occasion that I have not only possessed the lot, but disposed of the money which in all probability it will sell for. 20 This morning, in particular, I set up an equipage which I look upon to be the gayest in the town. The liveries are very rich, but not gaudy. I should be very glad to see a speculation or two upon lottery subjects, in which you would oblige all people ccn-25 cerned, and in particular Your most humble servant, George Gossling. P. S. Dear Spec. If I get the 12,000 pound, I'll make thee a handsome present." 30 THE LOTTEEY 301 After having wished my correspondent good luck, and thanked him for his intended kindness, I shall for this time dismiss the subject of the lottery, and only observe that the greatest part of mankind are 5 in some degree guilty of my friend Gossling 's extrava- gance. We are apt to rely upon future prospects, and become really expensive while we are only rich in possibility. We live up to our expectations, not to our possessions, and make a figure proportionable 10 to what we may be, not what w^e are. We outrun our present income, as not douWng to disburse ourselves out of the profits of some future place, project, or reversion that we have in view. It is through this temper of mind, which is so common among us, that 15 we see tradesmen break, who have met with no m.is- fortunes in their business, and men of estates reduced to poverty, who have never suffered from losses or repairs, tenants, taxes, or lawsuits. In short, it is this foolish sanguine temper, this depending upon con- 2otingent futurities that occasions romantic generosity, chimerical grandeur, senseless ostentation, and gen- erally ends in beggary and ruin. The man who will live above his present circumstances is in great dan- ger of living in a little time much beneath them, or, 25 as the Italian proverb runs. The man who lives by hope will die by hunger. It should be an indispensable rule in life to con- tract our desires to our present condition, and, whatever may be our expectations, to live within the 30 compass of what we actually possess. It will be time 302 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE enough to enjoy an estate when it comes into our hands; but if we anticipate^ our good fortune, we shall lose the pleasure of it when it arrives, and may possibly never possess what we have so foolislily counted upon. L 5 1 Addison uses this word in its only proper sense : So to act in expectation of anything as to prevent or to forestall its natural consequences, as in warding off a blow or in mortgag- ing one's future income. XLVII STAGE-COACHES AND CONSTANCY [The Tatler, No. 19 S.— Addison. Saturday, July 1, 1710.] Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens.i — Horace. From my own Apartment, June 30. Some years since, I was engaged with a eoacliful of friends to take a journey as far as the Land's End. We were very well pleased with one another the first day; every one endeavoring to recommend 5 himself by his good humor and complaisance to the rest of the company. This good correspondence did not last long; one of our party was soured the very first evening by a plate of butter which had not been melted to his mind and which spoiled his temper to 10 such a degree that he continued upon the fret to the end of our journey. A second fell off from his good humor the next morning, for no other reason that I could imagine but because I chanced to step into the coach before him and place myself on the shady side. 15 This, however, was but my own private guess ; for he did not mention a word of it, nor indeed of any thing else for three days following. The rest of our com- ^ ' ' Gladly I With thee would live, with thee would die.^' — Francis, 303 304 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE pany held out very near half the way, when, on a sudden, Mr. Sprightly fell asleep ; and, instead of endeavoring to divert and oblige us, as he had hitherto done, carried himself with an unconcerned, careless, drowsy behavior, until we came to our last stage. 5 There were three of us who still held up our heads and did all we could to make our journey agreeable; but, to my shame be it spoken, about three miles on this side of Exeter, I was taken with an unaccountable fit of sullenness, that hung upon me tor above three- 10 score miles; whether it were for want of respect, cr from an accidental tread on my foot, or from a foolish maid's calling me "The old gentleman," I cannot tell. In short, there was but one who kept his good humor to the Land's End. 15 There was another coach that went along with us, in which I likewise observed that there were many secret jealousies, heart-burnings, and animosities : for when we joined companies at night, I could not but take notice that the passengers neglected their owm 20 company and studied how to make themselves esteemed by us, who were altogether strangers to them; until at length they grew so well acquainted with us that they liked us as little as they did one another. When 1 reflect upon this journey, I often fancy it to be a 25 picture of human life, in respect to the several friend- ships, contracts, and alliances that are made and dis- solved in the several periods of it. The most delight- ful and most lasting engagements are generally those which pass between man and woman; and yet upon 30 STAGE-COACHES AND CONSTANCY 305 what trifles are they weakened or entirely broken! Sometimes the parties fly asunder even in the midst of courtship and sometimes grow cool in the very honey-month. Some separate before the first child, 5 and some after the fifth ; others continue good until thirty, others until forty; while some few, whose souls are of a happier make, and better fitted to one another, travel on together to the end of their journey in a continual intercourse of kind offices, and mutual 10 endearments. When we therefore choose our companions for life^ if we hope to keep both them and ourselves in good humor to the last stage of it, we must be extremely careful in the choice we make as well as in the con- is duct on our own part. When the persons to whom we join ourselves can stand an examination and bear the scrutiny ; when they mend upon our acquaintance with them and discover new beauties the more we search into their characters; our love will naturally 20 rise in proportion to their perfections. But because there are very few possessed of such accomplishments of body and mind, we ought to look after those qualifications both in ourselves and others, which are indispensably necessary toward this happy 25 union and which are in the power of every one to acquire, or, at least, to cultivate and improve. These, in my opinion, are cheerfulness and constancy. A cheerful temper, joined with innocence, will make beauty attractive, knowledge delightful, and wit good- 30 natured. It will lighten sickness, poverty, and afflic- 306 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE tion; convert ignorance into an amiable simplicity; and render deformity itself agreeable. Constancy is natural to persons of even tempers and uniform dispositions; and may be acquired by those of the greatest fickleness, violence, and passion, who i consider seriously the terms of union upon which they come together, the mutual interest in which they are engaged, with all the m_otives that ought to incite their tenderness and compassion toward those who have their dependence upon them and are embarked i with them for life in the same state of happiness or misery. Constancy, when it grows in the mind upon considerations of this nature, becomes a moral virtue and a kind of good-nature that is not subject to any change of health, age, fortune, or any of those acci- ] dents which are apt to unsettle the best dispositions, that are founded rather in constitution than in rea- son. Where such a constancy as this is wanting, the most inflamed passion may fall away into coldness and indifference and the most melting tenderness de-r generate into hatred and aversion. I shall conclude this paper with a story that is very well known in the north of England. About thirty years ago, a packet-boat that had several passengers on board was cast away upon a ^ rock and in so great danger of sinking that all who were in it endeavored to save themselves as well as they could; though only those who could swim well had a bare possibility of doing it. Among the passen- gers there were two women of fashion, who, seeing g STAGE-COACHES AND CONSTANCY 307 themselves in such, a disconsolate condition, begged of their husbands not to leave them. One of them chose rather to die with his wife than to forsake her; the other, though he was moved with the utmost com- 5 passion for his wife, told her, "that for the good of their children, it was better one of them should live than both perish." By a great piece of good luck, next to a miracle, when one of our good men had taken the last and long farew^ell in order to save him- 10 self and the other held in his arms the person that was dearer to him than life, the ship was preserved. It is with a secret sorrow and vexation of mind that I must tell the sequel of the story and let my reader know that this faithful pair who were ready to have 15 died in each other's arms, about three years after their escape, upon some trifling disgust, grew to a coldness at first and at length fell out to such a degree that they left one another and parted forever. The other couple lived together in an uninterrupted f riend- 20 ship and felicity; and, what was remarkable, the hus- band whom the shipwreck had like to have separated from his wife died a few months after her, not being able to survive the loss of her. I must confess, there is something in the change- 25 ableness and inconstancy of human nature that very often both dejects and terrifies me. Whatever I am at present, I tremble to think what I may be. While I find this principle in me, how can I assure myself that I shall be always true to my God, my friend, or 30 myself ? In short, without constancy there is neither love, friendship, nor virtue, in the world. XLYIII THE VISION OF MIKZAH l^The Spectator, No. 159. — Addison. Saturday, Septemder 1, 1711.'] Omnem, quae- nunc obducta tuenti Mortales liebetat visus tibi, et humida circum Caligat, nubem eripiam .i — Virgil. "When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several oriental manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others I met with one, entituled The Visions of Mirzah, which I have read over with great pleasure. I intend to give it to the public when I have no other entertainment for them and shall begin with the first vision, which I have translated, word for word, as follows : "On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, i after having washed myself and offered up my morn- ing devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and 1 ' ' I will take away wholly the cloud whose veil, cast over your eyes, dulls your mortal vision and darkles round you damp and thick." — JoJin Conington. 308 THE VISION OF MIEZAH 309 prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought to another, Surely, said I, man is but a 5 shadow and life a dream. "Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes toward the summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a little musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him, he applied it to his 10 lips, and began to play upon it. The sound of it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether dif- ferent from any thing I had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played 15 to the departed souls of good men upon their first arrival in paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret raptures. 20 "I had been often told that the rock before me was the haunt of a genius; and that several had been entertained with music who had passed by it, but never heard that the musician had before made him- self visible. When he had raised my thoughts, by 25 those transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon him like one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his hand directed me to approach the place where he sat. I drew near with that reverence 30 which is due to a superior nature ; and as my heart 310 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affa- bility that familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with 5 which I approached him. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirzah, said he, I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; Follow me. He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing me on the top of it, Cast thy eyes east- 1 ward, said he, and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge valley and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it. The valley that thou seest, said he, is the vale of misery, and the tide of water that thou seest is part of the great tide of eternity. What n is the reason, said I, that the tide I see rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick mist at the other? What thou seest, said he, is that portion of eternity which is called time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the beginning of 2C the world to its consummation. Examine now, said he, this sea that is bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of the tide. The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life; con- 25 sider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the number about an hundred. As I was counting the arches, the so THE VISION OF MIRZAH 311 genius told me that this bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches ; but that a great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition I now beheld it. But tell me further, said he, what 5 thou discoverest on it. I see multitudes of people passing over it, said I, and a black cloud hanging on each end of it. As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the passengers dropping through the bridge, into the great tide that flowed underneath it; and 10 upon further examination, perceived there were innumerable trapdoors that lay concealed in the bridge, which the passengers no sooner trod upon but they fell through them into the tide and immediately disappeared. These hidden pitfalls were set very 15 thick at the entrance of the bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner toward. the middle, but multiplied and lay closer together toward the end of the arches that were entire. 20 ' ' There were indeed some persons, but their number was very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long a walk. 25 "I passed some time in the contemplation of this * wonderful structure, and the great variety of objects Yv'hich it presented. My heart was filled with a deep melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and catching at every 30 thing that stood by them to save themiselves. Some 312 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE were looking up toward the heavens in a thoughtful posture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled and fell out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles that glittered in their eyes and danced before them, but often when they thought i themselves within the reach of them their footing failed and down they sunk. In this confusion of objects, I observed some with scimitars in their hands, who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrusting several persons on trapdoors which did not seem to lie in i their way, and which they might have escaped had they not been thus forced upon them. "The genius, seeing me indulge myself in this mel- ancholy prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it: Take thine eyes off the bridge, said he, andi tell me if thou yet seest any thing thou dost not com- prehend. Upon looking up, What mean, said 1, those great flights of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it from time to time ? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants ; 2 and among many other feathered creatures several little winged boys that perch in great numbers upon the middle arches. These, said the genius, are envy, avarice, superstition, despair, love, with the like cares and passions, that infest human life. 21 "I here fetched a deep sigh. Alas, said I, man was made in vain ! How is he given away to misery and mortality ! tortured in life, and SAvallowed up in death ! The genius being moved with compassion toward me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a prospect : 3( THE VISION OF MIRZAII 313 Look no more, said he, on man in the first stage of his existence, in his setting out for eternity; but cast thine eye on that thick mist into which the tide bears the several generations of mortals that fall into it. 5 1 directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no the good genius strengthened it with any super- natural force, or dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the further end, and spreading 10 forth into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into two equal parts. The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch that I could dis- cover nothing in it, but the other appeared to me a 15 vast ocean planted with innumerable islands, that were covered with fruits and flowers, and interwoven with a thousand little shining seas that ran among them. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, with garlands upon their heads, passing among the 20 trees, lying down by the sides of fountains, or resting on beds of flowers; and could hear a confused har- mony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, and musical instruments. Gladness grew in me upon the discovery of so delightful a scene. I wished for 25th3 wings of an eagle that I might fly away to those happy seats; but the genius told me there was no passage to them, except through the gates of death that I saw opening every moment upon the bridge. The islands, said he, that lie so fresh and green before 30 thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean 314 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number than the sands on the seashore; there are myriads of islands behind those which thou here dis- coverest, reaching further than thine eye or even thine imagination can extend itself. These are the 5 mansions of good men after death, who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, are distributed among these several islands, which abound with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the relishes and perfections of those who lo are settled in them ; every island is a paradise accom- modated to its respective inhabitants. Are not these, Mirzah, habitations worth contending for? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities of earning such a reward ? Is death to be feared, is that will convey thee to so happy an existence ? Think not man was made in vain, who has such an eternity reserved for him. I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on these happy islands. At length, said I, show me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those 20 dark clouds which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant. The genius making me no answer^ I turned about to address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left me ; I then turned again to the vision which I had been so long 25 contemplating, but instead of the rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long hollow valley of Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing upon the sides of it. " . . . C 30 XLIX WESTMINSTER ABBEY [The Spectator, No. 26. — Addison. Friday, March 30, 1711.] Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regumque turres. O beate Sesti, Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam. Jam te premet nox, fabulaeque manes, Et domus exilis Plutonia A — Horace. When I am in a serious humor, I very often w^ilk by myself in Westminister Abbey; where the gloomi- ness of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and the condition 5 of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. I yesterday passed a whole afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters, and the church, amusing myself with the tombstones and 10 inscriptions that I met with in those several regions 1 ' ' O Sextius, Fortune 's favorite, the kingly tower alike And pauper's liut pale Death will strike. Life's narrow space forbids to frame large hopes. Thee, too, the night Will vex; thee, many a fabled sprite, Thee, Pluto's cribbing cell." — W. E. Gladstone. 315 316 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE of the dead. Most of them recorded nothing else of the buried person but that he was born upon one day and died upon another : The whole history of his life being comprehended in those two circum- stances that are common to all mankind. I could 5 not but look upon these registers of existence, whether of brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the de- parted persons; w^ho had left no other memorial of them but that they were born and that they died. They put me in mind of several persons mentioned lo in the battles of heroic poems, who have sounding names given them, for no other reason but that they may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the head. TXavKov re MeSovra re ®epaiXo)(ov re. Glaucumqiie, Medontaqiie, Thersilochumqiie.i — Virgil. The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writis by the path of an arrow, which is immediately closed up and lost. Upon my going into the church, I entertained myself wdth the digging of a grave; and saw in every shovelful of it that was thrown up the frag- 20 ment of a bone or skull intermixed with a kind of fresh mouldering earth that some time or other had a place in the composition of an human body. Upon i^'Glaucus, and Medon, and Thersilochiis " ; three warriors who fought in behalf of Troy against the Greeks. Virgil represents ^neas, the Trojan exile, as meeting them in Hades. - ' WESTMINSTEE ABBEY 317 this, I began to consider with myself what innu- merable multitudes of people lay confused together under the pavement of that ancient cathedral; how men and women, friends and enemies, priests and 5 soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass ; how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness, and deformity, lay undis- tinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter. 10 After having thus surveyed this great magazine of mortality, as it were, in the lum.p, I examined it more particularly by the accounts which I found on several of the monuments which are raised in every quarter of that ancient fabric. Some of them were covered 15 with such extravagant epitaphs that, if it were pos- sible for the dead person to be acquainted with them, he would blush at the praises which his friends have bestowed upon him. There are others so excessively modest that they deliver the character of the person 20 departed in Greek or Hebrew and by that means are not understood once in a twelvemonth. In the poetical quarter, I found there were poets who had no monu- ments, and monuments which had no poets. I. ob- served indeed that the present war had filled the 25 church with many of these uninhabited monuments, which had been erected to the memory of persons whose bodies were perhaps buried in the plains of Blenheim, or in the bosom of the ocean. I could not but be very much delighted with several 30 modern epitaphs, which are written with great ele- 318 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE gance of expression and justness of thought, and therefore do honor to the living as well as to the dead. As a foreigner is very apt to conceive an idea of the ignorance or politeness of a nation from the turn of their public monuments and inscriptions, they should 5 be submitted to the perusal of men of learning and genius before they are put in execution. Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument has very often given me great offense : instead of the brave rough English admiral, which was the distinguishing character^ of 10 that plain, gallant man, he is represented on his tomb by the figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a canopy of state. The inscription is answerable to the monument; for instead of celebrating the many 15 remarkable actions he had performed in the service of his country, it acquaints us only with the manner of his death, in which it was impossible for him to reap any honor. The Dutch, whom we are apt to despise for want of genius, show an infinitely greater 20 taste of antiquity and politeness in their buildings and works of this nature than what we meet with in those of our own country. The monuments of their admirals, which have been erected at the public expense, represent them like themselves; and are 25 adorned with rostral crowns and naval ornaments, with beautiful festoons of seaweed, shells, and coral. But to return to our subject. I have left the repository of our English kings for the contempla- 1 Note the error in grammar here. WESTMINSTER ABBEY 319 tion of another day, when I shall find my mind disposed for so serious an amusement. I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds, and gloomy 5 imaginations ; but for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melan- choly ; and can therefore take a view of nature in her deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this means I 10 can improve myself with those objects which others consider with terror. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me ; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out ; when I meet with the grief of parents 15 upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow: When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits 20 placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yester- 25 day, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together. C IN 2011 A. D. [Noc 101. — Addison. Tuesday, June S6, 1711.1 Eomulus et Liber pater et cum Castore Pollux, Post ingentia facta deorum in templa recepti, Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella Componunt, agros assignant, oppida condunt: Ploravere suis non respondere favorem Speratum meritis.^ — Horace. Censure, says a late ingenious author, is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent. It is a folly for an eminent man to think of escaping it, and a weakness to be affected with it. All the illus- trious persons of antiquity, and indeed of every age 5 in the world, have passed through this fiery persecu- tion. There is no defense against reproach but 1 ' ' The doers of great deeds in times of old, For which they now are with the gods enrolled, Eoirulus, Bacchus, Castor, Pollux, when Taming wild regions and still wilder men, Staying the deadly ravage of the sword. Allotting lands and building towns, deplored That goodly works and noble service done, From those they served, such scant requital won." — Sir Theodore Martin. 320 IN 2011 A. D. 321 obscurity; it is a kind of concomitant to greatness, as satires and invectives were an essential part of a Roman triumph. If men of eminence are exposed to censure on one 5 hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they do not deserve. In a word, the man in a high post is never regarded with an indifferent eye, but always consid- LO ered as a friend or an enemy. For this reason, persons in great stations have seldom their true characters drawn till several years after their deaths. Their personal friendships and enmities must cease, and the parties they w^ere engaged in be at an end, before 15 their faults or their virtues can have justice done them. When writers have the least opportunity of knowing the truth, they are in the best disposition to tell it. It is therefore the privilege of posterity to adjust JO the characters of illustrious persons, and to set matters right betw^een those antagonists who by their rivalry for greatness divided a whole age into factions. We can now allow Caesar to be a great man, without derogating from Pompey; and celebrate the virtues !5of Cato, without detracting from those of Caesar. Every one that has been long dead has a due propor- tion of praise allotted him, in which whilst he lived his friends were too profuse and his enemies too sparing. According to Sir Isaac Newton's calculations, the 322 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE last comet that made. its appearance in 1680 imbibed so much heat by its approaches to the sun that it would have been two thousand times hotter than red hot iron, had it been a globe of that metal; and thr.t supposing it as big as the earth, and at the same 5 distance from the sun, it would be fifty thousand years in cooling, before it recovered its natural tem- per. In the like manner, if an Englishman considers the great ferment into which our political world is thro^vn, at present, and how intensely it is heated in i( all its parts, he cannot suppose that will cool again in less than three hundred years. In such a tract of time, it is possible that the heats of the present age may be extinguished, and our several classes of great men represented under their proper characters, ii Some eminent historian may then probably arise that will not write recentihus odiis^ (as Tacitus expresses it), with the passions and prejudices of a conteiri- porary author, but make an impartial distribute n of fame among the great men of the present age. 2( I cannot forbear entertaining myself very often with the idea of such an imaginary historian de- scribing the reign of Anne the First, and introduci ^g it with a preface to his reader, that he is now enteri g upon the most shining part of the English stcj\'/. 2!: The great rivals in fame will be then distinguislicd according to their respective merits, and shine y\ their proper points of light. Such an one (says the historian), though variously represented by the 1 ' ' With hates still fresh in mind. ' * IN 2011 A. D. 323 writers of his own age, appears to have been a man of more than ordinary abilities, great application, and uncommon integrity: Nor was such an one (though of an opposite party and interest) inferior to him in 5 any of these respects. The several antagonists, who now endeavor to depreciate one another, and are cele- brated or traduced by different parties, will then have the same body of admirers, and appear illustrious in the opinion of the whole British nation. The deserv- loing man, who can now recommend himself to the esteem of but half his countrymen, will then receive the approbations and applauses of a whole age. Among the several persons that flourish in this glorious reign, there is no question but such a future 15 historian as the person of whom I am speaking will make mention of the men of genius and learning, who have now any figure in the British nation. For my own part, I often flatter myself with the honor- able mention which will then be made of me; and 20 have drawn up a paragraph in my own imagination, that I fancy will not be altogether unlike what will be found in some page or other of this imaginary historian. It was under this reign, says he, that the Spectator 25 published those little diurnal essays which are still extant. We know very little of the name or person of this author, except only that he was a man of a very short face, extremely addicted to silence, and so great a lover of knowledge that he made a voyage 30 to Grand Cairo for no other reason but to take the 324 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE measure of a pyramid. His chief friend was one Sir Roger de Coverley, a whimsical country knight, and a Templar whose name he has not transmitted to us. He lived as a lodger at the house of a widow woman, and was a great humorist^ in all parts of his life. 5 This is all we can affirm with any certainty of his person and character. As for his speculations, not- withs'tanding the several obsolete words and obscure phrases of the age in which he lived, we still under- stand enough of them to see the diversi'ons and lo characters of the English nation in his time: Not but that Vv^e are to make allowance for the mirth and humor of the author, who has doubtless strained many representations of things beyond the truth. For if we interpret his words in their literal meaning, we is must suppose that women of the first quality used to pass away whole mornings at a puppet show: That they attested their principles by their patches: That an audience would sit out an evening to hear a dramatical performance written in a language which 20 they did not understand : That chairs and flower pots were introduced as actors upon the British stage: That a promiscuous assembly of men and women were allowed to meet at midnight in masks within the verge of the court ; with many improbabilities of the like 25 nature. We must, therefore, in these and the like cases, suppose that these remote hints and allusions aimed at some certain follies which were then in vogue, and which at present we have not any notion of. 1 Eccentric character. See Glossary. IN 2011 A. D. 325 We may guess by several passages in tlie speculations that there were writers who endeavored to detract from the works of this author ; but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot guess at any 5 objections that could be made to his paper. If we consider his style with that indulgence which we must show to old English writers, or if we look into the variety of his subjects, with those several critical dissertations, moral reflections, 10 The following part of the paragraph is so much to my advantage, and beyond any thing I can pretend to, that I hope my reader will excuse me for not inserting it. L LI CUSTOM AND HAPPINESS^ IThe Spectator, No. 447. — Addison. Saturday, August 2, 1712.] ^rjfJiL iroXv^poviiqv fjLeXirrjv c/x/xevat, cf>tXe' koL St] TavTT^v avOpoiTVOLdL reXevTOiaav v(TLV elvai.^ There is not a Common- Saying which has a better turn of Sense in it, than what we often hear in the Months of the Vulgar, that Custom is a second Nature. It is indeed able to form the Man anew, and to give Mm Inclinations and Capacities altogether different 5 from those he was born with. Dr. Plot, in his History of Staffordshire, tells of an Ideot that chancing to live within the Sound of a Clock, and always amusing himself with counting the Hour of the Day whenever the Clock struck, the Clock being spoiled by some lo Accident, the Ideot continued to strike and count the Hour without the help of it, in the same manner as he had done when it was entire. Though I dare not vouch for the Truth of this Story, it is very certain 1 In this chapter, the editor follows Addison in spelling, punctuation, and the use of capitals. 2 ' ' For Custom of some date, my Friend, forgoes Its proper Shape, and second Nature grows." 326 CUSTOM AND HAPPINESS 327 that Custom has a Mechanical Effect upon the Body, at the same time that it has a very extraordinary Influence upon the Mind. I shall in this Paper consider one very remarkable 5 Effect which Custom has upon Human Nature ; and which, if rightly observed, may lead us into very use- ful Rules of Life. What I shall here take notice of in Custom, is its wonderful Efficacy in making every thing pleasant to us. A Person who is addicted to 10 Play or Gaming, tho ' he took but little delight in it at first, by degrees contracts so strong an Inclination towards it, and gives himself up so intirely to it, that it seems the only End of his Being. The Love of a retired or busie Life will grow upon a Man 15 insensibly, as he is conversant in the one or the other, 'till he is utterly unqualified for relishing that to which he has been for some time disused. Nay, a Man may Smoak, of Drink, or take Snuff, 'till he is unable to pass away his Time, without it; not to mention 20 how our Delight in any particular Study, Art, or Science, rises and improves in Proportion to the Appli- cation which we bestow upon it. Thus what was at first an Exercise, becomes at length an Entertainment. Our Employments are changed into our Diversions. 25 The Mind grov/s fond of those actions she is accus- tomed to, and is drawn with Reluctancy from those Paths in which she has been used to walk. Not only such Actions as were at first Indifferent to us, but even such as were Painful, will by Custom 30 and Practice become pleasant. Sir Francis Bacon 328 ESSAYS BY ADDISON AND STEELE observes in his Natural Philosophy, that our Taste is never pleased better than with those things which at first created a Disgust in it. He gives particular Instances of Claret, Coffee, and other Liquours, which the Palate seldom approves upon the first Taste ; but 5 when it has once got a Relish of them, generally retains it for Life. The Mind is constituted after the same manner, and after having habituated herself to any particular Exercise or Employment, not only loses her first Aversion towards it, but conceives aic certain Fondness and Affection for it. I have heard one of the greatest Geniuses this Age has produced, who had been trained up in all the Polite Studies of Antiquity, assure me, upon his being obliged to search into several Rolls and Records, that notwithstanding 15 such an Employment was at first very dry and irk- some to him, he at last took an incredible Pleasure in it, and preferred it even to the reading of Virgil or Cicero. The Reader will observe, that I have not here considered Custom as it makes things easie, but 20 as it renders tliem delightful ; and though others have often made the same Reflections, it is possible they may not have drawn those Uses from it, with which I intend to fill the remaining Part of this Paper. If we consider attentively this Property of Human 25 Nature, it may instruct us in very fine Moralities. In the first place, I would have no Man discouraged with that kind of Life or Series of Action, in which the Choice of others, or his own Necessities, may have engaged him. It may perhaps be very disagreeable so CUSTOM AND HAPPINESS 329 to him at first ; but Use and Application will certainly render it not only less painful, but pleasing and satisfactory. In the second place I would recommend to every 5 one that admirable Precept which Pythagoras is said to have given to his Disciples, and which that Philoso- pher must have drawn from the Observation I have enlarged upon. Optimum vitce genus eligito, nam consuetudo faciei jucundissimum,^ Pitch upon that 10 Course of Life which is the most Excellent, and Cus- tom will render it the most Delightful. Men, whose Circumstances will permit them to chuse their own way of Life, are inexcusable if they do not pursue that which their Judgment tells them is the most 15 laudable. The Voice of Reason is more to be regarded than the Bent of any present Inclination, since by the Rule above-mentioned. Inclination will at length come over to Reason, though we can never force Reason to comply wdth Inclination. 20 In the third place, this Observation may teach tlie most sensual and irreligious Man, to overlook those Hardships and Difficulties which are apt to discourage him from the Prosecution of a Virtuous Life. The Gods, said Hesiod, have placed Lahour before Virtue; 25 the way to her is at first rough and difficult, hut grows more smooth and easie the further you advance in it. The Man who proceeds in it, with Steadiness and Resolution, will in a little time find, that her Ways are Ways of Pleasantness, and that all her Paths are BO Peace, ... 1 ' ' Choose the best sort of life, for use will make it very pleasant," GLOSSARY AND INDEX TO INTRODUCTION There are several reasons for this glossary of Addison and Steele's writings. (1) Special allusions and proper names need explanation. (2) Many words and phrases once perfectly intelligible have gone out of fashion in the last two cen- turies. (3) Lilie all well-educated men of their age, Addison and Steele had had a far more rigorous training in Latin than in English grammar, and in con- sequence introduced Latin Idioms into their works. (4) In common with their contemporaries, both writers used to think often about daily life in an abstract sort of way very foreign to the modern mind. (5) Finally, both were men of affairs as well as men of letters, and often wrote or dictated their essays hurriedly and sent them to the press without much revision. A.l> juration oatli; an oath dis- claiming any belief that the Stuarts had any right to the English throne. It was required in old times of all persons in office and of any others whom the magistrates suspected of disloyalty to the reigning sovereign ; p. 92, 1. 29. broad; away from home; p. 140, 1. 7. Absent from; absent minded in re- gard to ; p. 187, 1. 10. Accidents; attributes; p. 147, 1. 5. \cted; actuated; p. 299, 1. S. ;lddison, Doi'otliy; see Introduc- tion, Section 25. Addison, Joseph; see Introduc- tion, Sections 25-28, 32, 33. lEneids; in modern usage, ^neid ; p. 257, 1. 19 ; see Virg'il. Afore; before; p. 186, 1. 14. \ldns; a celebrated Venetian printer of the fifteenth century, whence the adjective Aldine ; p. 77, 1. 8. Alexander tlie Great (356 323, B. c.) ; the greatest of Greek con- querors ; p. 240, 1. 26. Algriers; see under Maliomet. dlmanza; a gi-eat defeat, in 1707, administered to the British and their allies by the French and Spanish ; p. 157, 1. 26. An; no longer used before letters which are really consonantal in sound, as in an European, p. 153, 1. 9, or an one, p. 168, 1. 25 ff. Nor is an now used before monosyllables or accent- ed syllables beginning with the as- pirate h, as in an heap, p. 50, 1. 1. Anaereon; an early Greek poet who sang the praises of wine. The story of his death, referred to by Addison, was probably the invention of some one with a love of "poetic justice" ; p. 196, 1. 4. Anjon, Dnlce of; see under Louis XIV. AnsTV'erable to; in keeping with; p. 318, 1. 14. Antrnni; Latin for cave; p. 209, 1. 23. Apollo; in Greek and Roman myth- ology,- the god of music and poetry ; p. 270, 1. 26. Apprentice; one bound by law for a number of years to serve an em- ployer in some trade in exchange for bed, board, instruction, and training London once contained many such ap- prentices, and often they were dis^ 331 332 GLOSSAEY orderly. On July 14, 1647, ten thousand of them petitioned parlia- ment that Charles I be restored. Twelve days later, with other riot- ers, apprentices stormed parliament and forced it to repeal an obnoxious law. On Christmas Day, 1647, a mob of them decorated a public pump with holly because the Puri- tans tried to abolish festivities on that day ; p. 87, 1. 5. Aristotle; a Greek philosopher of the fourth century before Christ. The rough notes preserved of his lectures were taken as an infallible guide on art and science through many cen- turies of the Christian era. In Ad- dison's day, it was still venturesome to question his authority on aesthet- ics ; p. 22, 1. 8. Army; see Introduction, Section 21. Arrestetl; in the eighteenth century, debtors could be jailed till they paid their debts, as Steele, Dr. Samuel Johnson, Oliver Goldsmith, and many others found out to their cost ; p. 204, 1. 21. Artaxerxes; the name of three old kings of Persia ; p. 240, 1. 27. Assizes; see Introduction, Section 18. Ang'nstns; (a) also called Augus- tus Caesar, first and greatest of the Roman emperors. His reign was unusually peaceful, prosperous, and stable. Literature flourished under comrt patronage; p. 72, 1. 20. (b) Augustus II, King of Poland; see under S'^vecleii, King of. Aurora; in ancient mythology, the goddess of the dawn ; p. 227, 1. 6. Baby; doll; p. 125, 1. 9. Bacon, Sir Francis (1561-1626) ; the earliest great essayist in Eng- land ; noted for his brevity and acute- ness. Addison quotes from his Ad- vancement of Learning ; p. 52, 1. 25. Bagtlat; see under Malioniet. Balanced tlie poT\'er of Eu- x'ope; see under Louis XIV. Ballads; narrative poems, ol rude in diction and versificati They are more or less lyrical form, and, contrary to the supp tion of Addison, peculiarly 1 from any didactic import. T originated among the common i pie, but whether the ballad is composition of an individual or c community is disputed. They wt and still are to some extent, i served by word of mouth. In Ac son's day they were also haw: about in cheap, printed forms no one undertook to prepare j print them for educated readers til a dozen years after Addiso praise of "Chevy Chase." Bef the close of the century such a mantic interest in old ballads veloped that scholars edited th( impostors palmed off forgeries them and great poets imitated tl beautiful touches. Addison ag praises ballads in the 74th and 85th issues of the Spectator ; p. 2; see also the Introduction, Section and Heroic Poems. Bank: of Eng-land; founded 1G94 under the Whig king, Willi III, to further his military policj' loans to the government and his cc mercial policy by stimulating t guiding business enterprise. It gan with twenty-four directors & fifty-four assistants. It has alw; been the supreme financial insti tion of England and closely relai to the government ; p. 104, 1. 1." Basset; a game of cards; p. 234, 11. Beast; a hideous creature descril in the thirteenth chapter of Rere tion, and associated with the uu ber 666. He has been taken symbolize the Roman Empire, Fe Napoleon, and by some zealous Pr estants, the Roman Catholic Chui or the papacy. Addison, in his je gets the number wrong ; p. 298, 23. GLOSSAEY 333 at; beaten; p. 61, 1. 29. liemotli; an extraordinary crea- ure, described in Job, 40:15-24; p. 65, 1. 21. llarmine; a noted Italian cardi- lal of the sixteenth and seventeenth ■enturies ; p. 198, 1. 27. Iliiian ; the town-crier, employed shout public and private notices hrough the streets ; the name was ilso applied to the night-watchman ; 5. 234, 1. 25. ncli; a term in England for judges Then sitting officially on a case ; p. ;6, 1. 14. ■iieliei'; one of the governors of he l7ins of Court (which see under jOiidLon and Westiiiimster). ;iider; see STredeii, Kins' of. ■vis of Sonthanipton ; in old ales, a persecuted stepson who flees pagan parts, where his Christian ndignation makes him slaughter a lundred Saracens at a time ; p. 127, . 13. ble and Three CroTvns; the lame of an inn; p. 299, 1. 24. clierstaff, Isaac; see under London and l?^estniinster. d; old form for Mde; p. 287, 1. 16. llets-donx; love-letters; p. 76, . 15. lis; posters or handbills; p. 299, . 13; hills of mortality; official re- :urns of deaths, published by 109 jarishes in and about London ; with- n the bills of mortality; within this iistrict ; p. 70, 1. 3. ack; dark-complexioned; p. 267, .. 20. aeli Prince, Tlie (1330-76) ; the heroic son of Edward III of Eng- land ; so-called probably from the 3olor of his armor ; p. 241, 1. 4. anlis of society; an allusion to the fourth issue of the Spectator, by Steele ; p. 53, 1. 24. lenlLeim; a bloody English vic- tory over the French and Bavarians in 1704. More than 50,000 were killed; p. 317, 1. 28; see Introduc- tion, Section 25 ; see also Lonis XIV. BloTv; a display of blossoms ; p. 241, 1. 26. Boilean (1636-1711) ; a French crit- ic whose highly finished poem on the value of polish, wit, ami good sense in poetry for a time determined the standards of taste not only in his own country but in England as well ; p. 71, 1. 17. See also Introduction, Section 9. Bossn; a seventeenth century French critic of epic poetry, now pretty much ignored; p. 261, 1. 27. Bonrbon; see under Louis XIV. Boxes; see Introduction, Section 7, note. Braclinians ; brahmans ; the heredi- tary priests of the Brahman religion in India. By the cruelest social re- strictions, they maintained their su- periority to the other classes of their country; p. 203, 1. 4. Break; to go bankrupt; p. 83, 1. 11. Brede; braid; p. 153, 1. 20. Broke; old form for broken; p. 135, 1. 8. Brook's and Heilier; should be Brooke and Hellier's ; a noted firm of wine merchants who advertised regularly in the Spectator. Steele and Addison allowed advertisers to influence their literary columns ; p. 194, 1. 8. Brntnm fnlinen; a harmless thun- derbolt ; mere noise ; p. 269, 1. 22. Bnckle; the state of being crisped and curled ; p. 231, 1. 4. Bng-le; bead; p. 153, 1. 19. Burgess; (a) a representative of a town or part of a town in the House of Commons; (b) one of the govern- ing body of a town ; p. 102, 1. 8. Button's; see Introduction, Sections 13, 26. C; see Clio. Caesar's Commentaries; a "puff" for an edition, just published by Addison's friend and club-fellow. 334 GLOSSARY Jacob Tonson, who kept the Specta- tor on sale at his shop ; p. 77, 1. 15. Cairo 5 like most cultivated gentle- men of his day, Addison had trav- eled only along fashionable routes to a few of the principal places of Eu- rope. Plis references to Grand Cairo are a favorite joke of his at those who went to Egypt to study the pyr- amids ; p. 308, 1. 1. Ca,lais; a famous French seaport. On clear nights its harbor light can be seen from the English coast ; p. 110, 1. IS. Calfs; error for calves; p. 284, 1. 9. Camilla; see Virg'il. Candle snulSer; the employee who attended to the candles that served to light the theater ; p. 273, 1. 4. Canonical lionrs; the legal hours for the performance of a marriage ceremony in an English parish church ; p. 235, 1. 24. Canterbury tales; tales told by pilgrims on their way to Canterbury cathedral ; the phrase is so used for the pleasant pilgrims' tales told by the fourteenth century ' poet and humorist, Geoffrey Chaucer ; finally, on account of the length of these, any long, tedious tales ; p. 89, 1. 22. Catch; a round; especially a humor- ous one ; p. 113, 1. 4. Catcliecl; once used as freely as caught; p. 140, 1. 12. Cato; an austere Roman in Caesar's time ; see Introduction, Sections 7, 25. Cavaliers; the followers of the Stuarts into danger and exile. On the restoration of Charles II to pow- er, few of them were rewarded for their sacrifices. The poverty of the rest remained a reproach to the king; p. 82, 1, 23. Cliairs and flon^er pots; a dig at the opera. See Spectators, Nos. 5, 18, and 22 for an explanation of the allusions in the 101st Specta- tor; p. 324, 1. 21. Chambers; apartments; p. 54, 10. Cliang-e of sex; Addison's sh ling, which first bore the face Queen Elizabeth, lay concealed whi Oliver Cromwell was protector ai so escaped being melted and remii; ed with shields like svs'ollen breech on it, and was reminted under Wil iam III with the face of the kii on one side; p. 84, 1. 2. Character; (a) typography; print( characters; p. 77, 1. 21; (b) cha acteristic ; p. 62, 1. 23. Charing- Cross; see under Lou don and Westminster. Charles II's reign (1660-85) time when gayety of dress and ma: ners was much affected ; p. 197, 14. Charterhouse; see Introductio: Section 29. Cheapen; buy. There were no fix( prices in the eighteenth centur; The buyer, therefore, always tried i beat down the seller ; p. 283, 1. 3. Cheapside; see under Londo: and W^estminstei*. Chelsea; a pleasant suburb on tl bank of the Thames ; p. 138, 1. 28. Chevalier; see under Civil Wai Chid; chided; p. 191, 1. 21. Childermas Day; in the religior calendar, December 28 commemc rates the children slaughtered t Herod; see Matthew, 11:16. Add son's comment on this seems t arise from a temporary confusion i his mind; p. 157, 1. 3. Child's; see Introduction, Sectio 13. Chocolate Houses; see Introduc tion. Sections 12, 13. Christian Hero, The; see Intro duction. Section 30. Chnrch; see Introduction, Sectioi 19. Churchman; a supporter of the au thority and legal privileges of th; Church of England as against mem. bers of independent denominations GLOSSAEY 335 a high churchman ; a Church of England man ; p. 99, 1. 24. icero; a famous Roman orator and ossayist of the first century after Christ; p. 328, 1. 19. ircuit; the region over which any one court must travel in the hearing of cases ; p. 229, 1. 26. irciila-tioii of tlie blood; the nature of the process by which the blood flows from the heart into the arteries, then into the veins, then back into the heart, making a com- plete circuit in less than half a min- ute ; fir.^t correctly described by Har- vey in 1G2S ; p. 165, 1. 2. itizens; see Introduction, Section 14. ity; see under liondon and. "Westiiiimster; also see Intro- duction, Section 14. ivil Wai'; sometimes called the Great Reiellion ; a war between King Charles I and the adherents of par- liament. They were determined not to have an absolute monarch. He was determined to raise revenue without their permission and govern without their interference. Relig- ious differences intensified the quar- rel. Prominent among his f:;llower3 were those bishops in the Church of England who were using harsh meas- ures to make its beliefs, its laws, its feasts and its ceremonies more like those of the Roman Catholic Church. In 1646, he was captured; in 1649, executed, and England became a Commonivea Itli, which rigorously suppressed all bishops, and their fa- vorite doctrines, feasts, and ceremo- nies. The Commonwealth bore hard, ion. on many pleasures and amuse- ments. (See Prestoyterians.) In 1653, Oliver Cromwell assumed the title of Lord Protector. In 1660, a year and a half after his death, the people were glad to welcome back the gay and dissolute Charles II, who re-established the Church of England. This return is known as the Restoration. In 1685, he died. Three years later his Roman Catho- lic successor, James II, so angered Protestant England that he was forced to flee the kingdom. This is known as the Revolution. His Prot- estant son-in-law and daughter (Will- iam III and Mary) became sov- ereigns by the invitation of parlia- ment. James II never abandoned his claim to the throne. The king- dom itself passed on to "William's Protestant sister-in-law, Anne, and then to her Protestant cousin. Prince George of Hanover. But on James's death in 1701 his eldest son, James Edward, inherited his claim and be- came known as the Pretender or, sometimes in courtesy and sometimes in mockery, as the Chevalier. Ad- herents continually plotted for him and opponents kept their eye on him. As for time-servers, they felt much as follows .* "God bless the king, I mean the faith's defender ; God bless — no harm in blessing — the pretender ; But which preter.der is and which is k;- g — God bless u.s r.ll ! that's quite an- other thing." In 1715, his Scotch friends tookarms for him. He joined them but fled at the first real danger. Meanwhile, government agents had taken into custody some suspected members of parliament. One of the suspected members whom they failed to arrest started in the extreme north of Eng- land an uprising which planned to cooperate with rebels in Scotland. The less than ninety men with which it started had become 1500 when they were cooped up in Preston, forty miles from Liverpool and forced to surrender. Later, Sir CliarJes Wills and his superior officer. Lord Carpenter, quarreled bitterly over 336 GLOSSAEY the honors of their capture. See also Introduction, Sections 19 and 20. Ciareiidoii, EtlTrard Hyde, Earl of; an English statesman, and father-in-law of James II. In 1667, he was obliged to flee to France. He wrote a famous historj of his own times, an autobiography, and an essay on the active and the contemplative life ; p. 137, 1. 9. Classical Taste; see Introductioa, Section 10. Clever iipom my legs; nimbly upon my legs ; p. 113, 1. 11. Clio; "All the papers which I have distinguished by any letter in the name of the muse Clio were given me by the gentleman of whose as- sistance I formerly boasted in the preface and concluding leaf of my Tatlers. I am indeed more proud of his long continued friendship than I should be of being thought the au- thor of any writings which he him- self is capable of producing." — Steele. This gentleman was Addi- son. Closet; private room; p. 287, 1. 24. Clubs; in the early eighteenth cen- tury, informal associations of men who gathered on stated occasions at some inn or coffee house, usually for political chat as well a-j for good fel- lowship. The following burlesque rules drawn up in one issue of the Spectator betray something of their character : '"I. Every Member at his first evening in shall lay down his Two Pence. II. Every Member shall fill his Pipe out of his own Box. III. If any Member absents himself he shall forfeit a Penny for the Use of the Club, unless in case of Sick- ness cr Imprisonment. . . . VIII. If a Member's Wife comes to fetch him Home from the Club, she shall speak to him without the Door." The Glut) ; a fictitious club, invented by Steele and Addison to contain pleasant types of eighteenth century life, including: (a) a kindly old country squire, somewhat whimsical and rustic. Sir Roger de Coverley ; (b) a wealthy Whig merchant. Sir Andrew Freeport. His "notions of trade" are noble and generous, though his favorite motto is a penny saved is a penny got; (c) an old beau. Will Honeycomb, who tries to keep up an appearance of youth by the use of paint, powder, and jaunti- ness of 'behavior ; wittily described in the dedication to Volume 8 of the Spectator; (d) a brave army officer, Captain Sentry; (e) and a lawyer, called the Templar (see Inns of Court under London and Westminster), more judicious in the criticism of literature and the drama than learned in the law. For the description of the Club, see the second issue of the Spectator. Coaches; see Introduction, Section 16. Coals; a common English plural; p. 217, 1. 13. Cock; a turn grven to the brim of a hat. It was securely fastened. Monmouth code; such a turn worn in honor of Charles II 's natural son, the Protestant Duke of Monmouth. In 1685, in an ineffective rebellion, he tried to displace the Roman Cath- olic, James II, on the throne ; p. 232, 1. 4. Cocoa Tree; see Introduction, Sec- tion 13. Cofi'ee House; see Introduction, Sections 12 and 13. Commode; a tall headdress made of wire, covered with silk or lace ; p. 223, 1. 14. Complication; combination; p. 121, 1. 10. Conceit; quaint turn of thought; fantastic bit of wit; p. 104, 1. 13. Consort; in music, a combination of voices or instruments ; p. 269, 1. 8. Conventicle; in 1664, attendants on public religious services, con- GLOSSAEY 337 ducted not in accordance with the Church of England, were made lia- ble to seven years of hard labor in a foreign colony. Such meetings were called conventicles. Under William III, tills law was displaced by a Toleration Act^ but the hostile term conventicle still persisted in use; p. 72, 1. 18. orn; grain of any sort; p. 249, 1. 1. ornaro, Liuigi; his book, which first appeared in Padua in l-5o8, has been often translated and still often- pr reprinted; p. 295, 1. 11. orneille, Pierre (1606-1684) ; generally reckoned in his day the su- preme master of French tragedy ; surpassed in taste, however, by his only serious rival, Jean Racine (1639-1699). Either was capable of making a declamatory eulogy on kings ; p. 71, 1. 17. 9rresponcleiice; harmony ; agreement; p. 154, 1. 11. Bueliamt; lying with the body rest- ing on the legs and the head lifted up; p. 176, 1. 7. ftuntry gentleman; see Intro- duction, Sections 17 and 18. OTiiity sessions; a court for criminal cases, meeting in each coun- ty four times a year; p. 230, 1. 30; see also Introduction, Section 18. »veiit Garden; see under Lon- don and Westminster. Bverley, Sir Roger de; see under Clnl>s;see also Introduction, Section 23. i^wley, Abraham; a fashion- able, over-ingenious poet of the gen- eration just previous to Addison and Steele. "Went to Mr. Cowley's fu- neral . . . near an hundred coaches of noblemen and persons of quality following ; among these all the wits Df the town." — Jolin Evelyn; p. 252, 1. 13. .•imp; a game of cards; p. 234, 1, 11. fitic; criticism; p. 253, 1. 4. ritics; see Introduction, Section 8. Cromwell, Oliver; see under Civil War. Cross; across; p. 113, 1. 10. Crowder; fiddler; p. 252, 1. 28. Cumberland; nowt verra good was iver born oot a' (outside of) Cum- terland used to be a common saying among the stubborn peasantry of this secluded upland countv ; p. 232, 1. 21. Cupping' and bleeding; so con- stantly resorted to by physicians in days of old as to arouse the ridicule of the wits ; p. 292, 1. 10. Custody of messengers; in 1715, six members of the House of Commons were arrested for conspir- ing to help the Stuart claimant to the throne, called the Pretender, against the actual sovereign, George I ; p. 100, 1. 6. Cut off -tvith a sbilling; disin- herited, a mere shilling being left one in the will to show that the dis- inheritance was intentional ; p. 82, 1. 13. Daeier ; a seventeenth century French critic, now chiefly remem- bered for his brilliant wife ; p. 264, 1. 11. Daemon; same as genius (which see). Daily Courant; the only daily newspaper in England in the days of the Spectator; p. 65, 1. 22; see In- troduction, Section 23. Day in L,ondon; see Introduction, Section 12. Day, that great; the Judgment Day, described in Matthew 25 :31- 46; p. 319, 1. 26. Death watch; the popular name of various insects which make a noise like the ticking of a watch and are supposed by the superstitious to por- tend death; p. 159, 1. 11. Delivei*; express; p. 317, 1. 19. Diagoras; a Greek philosopher, ac- cused of impiety and forced to flee 538 GLOSSAEY from Athens. He died in Corinth ; p. 171, 1. 8. Diog-enes; an ancient Greek philos- opher, so devoted to the simple life that, it is said, he exposed himself to all weathers, wore the harshest clothing, ate the crudest food, and slept in a tub in the open air; p. 292, 1. 16. Dislmrse; reimburse; p. 301, 1. 11. Discover; disclose; p. 63, 1. 8; dis- covery; disclosure; p. 206, 1 30. Diseurs de bonne avemturej tellers of good fortune ; p. 299, 1. 12, Riss'Tist; quarrel; p. 307, 1. 16. Dissentei*; any English Protestant who publicly worships according to a mode not prescribed by the Church of England ; p. 183, 1. 14. Distemper; any disease which for- merly would have been attributed to a disorder of the blood ; p. 279, 1. 10 ; see Humor. Dotoson, Austin; see Introduction, Sections 31, note 33. Doge; formei'ly the chief magistrate of Venice or Genoa ; p. 77, 1. 9. Doggett, TSiomas (d. 1721) ; praised by Steele as the best of co- medians and by another as "an hon- est man" ; p. 268, 1. 24. Don Belianis; hero of an absurd book of chivalry and later of an English nursery tale ; p. 127, 1. 5. Downs; an anchorage for ships on the southeast coast of England ; it was protected by hidden sandbars ; p. 152, 1. 7. Drake, Sir Francis (1540 ?-96) ; a seaman under Queen Elizabeth who sacked Spanish vessels and vil- lages, especially in the Western hem- isphere. Much of his booty was gold and silver fresh from the mines ; p. 80, 1. 13. Drank:; better, drunk; p. 288, 1. 2. DraTS'er; one who draws liquor for customers ; p. 107, 1. 27. Drink abont; to pass a vessel of liquor about and drink from it in turn; p. 114, 1. 10. Drnry Lane; see Introduction, Sec- tion 30, note. Dryden, Jobn (1629-1700); a masculine poet, dramatist, and crit- ic, generally accounted by his con- temporaries the greatest English writer of his time ; p. 196, 1. 10. D'Urfey. Thomas (1653-1723) ; a man about town who wrote many supposedly witty poems and plays, not at all worth reading. Steele fol- lowed him to the grave and wore the watch and chain which D'Urfey be queathed to him ; p. 196. Dntcb mail; Holland contained th( nearest friendly ports to England Swift sailing vessels brought mai from them over the treacherous Brit ish Channel ; p. 54, 1. 5. Dntcb taste; as a lo.val Whig, Ad dison admired the great Whig Hoi lander, William III. He therefor* admired Dutch taste, though, ii many respects, it was dull and emp ty in comparison with that of thi Stuart court which it displaced ; p 318, 1. 19. Dnties upon French claret protective duties to encourage th( consumption and manufacture o English ale and so of English hops p. 99, 1. 27. Dyer's Letter; a newsletter; p 101, 1. 1 ; see Introduction, Sectioi 23. Eat; (a) ate; p. 190, 1. 3 ; (b eaten ; p. 288, 1. 2. Edgehill; see under Mai-stoi Moor. Elbo-»v chair; arm chair; p. 278 1. 1. Elizabeth, Q,neen; during he reign (1558-1603), her kingdom wa: often enriched with bullion, plun dered from Spanish America b: Francis Drake and others ; p. 80, 1 16. ElsBCver; better, Elzevir; surnam< of a family of famous Dutch printer; GLOSSAEY 33f) of the seventeenth century ; p. 77, 1. 8. En^lisli Post; Evening Post; p. 65, 1. 20. Entertain; (a) to interest, to oc- cupy the attention of; p. 162, 1. 13. (b) to keep or retain in one's serv- ice ; p. 140, 1. 5. Entertainment; source of inter- est ; occupation of the mind ; p. 55, 1. 9. Sntlinsiast; in the eighteenth cen- tury, one who mistakenly believes himsell to be directed in his actions by God ; one who thinks he has di- vine inspiration for what he does ; p. 49, 1. 12. Sntituled; entitled; p. 84, 1. 10. i^pliesian Matron; in a tale by the cynical Roman, Petronius, and often repeated, a widow who while weeping at the tomb of her husband was captivated by the charms of a stranger : p. 150, 1. 19. ilqnestrian Statne on tlie Pont-lVenf; a statue of the French king, Henry IV, erected at one of the bridges (ponts) in Paris in -1635. It was melted into cannon during the French Revolution ; p. 275, 1. 10. iqnipag'e; a comprehensive term including one's dress, retinue, and establishment ; that part of one's be- longings which is used about or in the neighborhood of one's person for the display of one's rank or wealth ; p. 180, 1. 23. Tea equipage; all the paraphernalia connected with serv- ing tea ; p. 52, 1. 24. Essence and orange-flower ■tvater; cologne; p. 209, 1. 17. Istablishment; a settled govern- ment or constitution ; particularly, the permanence of the Hanoverian dynasty (George I, etc.), parliamen- tary institutions, and the national Church, which seemed to Addison to constitute the essentials of law and order; p. 98, 1. 10. Eng-ene, Prince; see Introduction^ Section 21. Examiner, TKe ; the weekly organ of the Tory government and exceed- ingly bitter against the Whigs. Its chief editor was the satirist. Dean Swift; p. 75, 1. 17. Exceeding; exceedingly; p. 284, h 3. Exebange, The; see Introduction. Section 14. Explain npon; explain; p. 116, 1. 16. Eyre, lords justices in; circuit judges ; p. 94, 1. 22 ; see Introduc- tion, Section 18. Fabins; a Roman general noted for the skill with which he could tire out an opposing army of superior force, by dilatory tactics; p. 277, 1. 24. Factory; a trading station or es- tablishment in a foreign country ; p. 206, 1. 23. Fardel; burden; p. 278, 1. 27. Fathers; Christian theologians of the first five centuries ; p. 223, 1. 1. Fello^v of the Royal Society; any member of it ; p. 53, 1. 18 ; see Royal Society. Fielding, Bean Robert; see In trdduction, Section 7. Fire should fall from lieaT-- en; seeKingsI :XVIII :17-40 ; Luke IX:51-56; p. 170, 1. 24. Flaccus, C. Valerius; a medio ere Latin poet, who imitated Virgil ; p. 254, 1. 14. Flanders; a name once much in vogue for the region now occupied by Holland and Belgium ; p. 58, 1. 13. Flora; in ancient mythology, the goddess of flowers and spring ; p. 238, 1. 16. Followers of Nature; see In- troduction, Sections 6, 8. Fops; see Introduction, Sections 2, 4, 7. 340 GLOSSAKY Forbes, Lord; see Introduction, Section 13. Franked; until 1840, English post- age Avas ten ames what it is today and was paid hy the receiver, not the sender. Members of parliament and high officials, by the use of their au- tograph (or frank), could send mat- ter free. This they were often asked to do for friends ; p. 230, 1. 26. Freeholder, Tlie; a freeholder is one who owns his own homestead and is therefore under obligation to no one. To predispose such people toward a Protestant king and a par- liamentary government and against the Roman Catholic pretender, Ad- dison issued a paT[>ev, The Freeholder, every Friday and Monday from De- cember 23, 1715, to June 29, 1716 ; p. 91. Freeport, Sir AmdreTv; see under Clubs. Friend of mine; Dean Swift, au- thor of Gulliver's Travels; p. 79, 1. 1. Fritli; better, flrtli; any inlet from the sea or its tributary tidal rivers ; across the frith; across the waters that make into the Solway Firth and therefore across the Scottish border ; p. 95, 1. 18. Oalley slave; a captive or criminal forced to work at the oar in a great rowed vessel. Galleys were used par- ticularly on the Mediterranean ; p. 282, 1. 22. •Game laT»^s; see Introduction, Sec- tions 17, 18. Ganges; a river of India, fifteen hundred miles long and in places as broad as a small bay ; considered sacred by the inhabitants ; p. 203, 1. 26. Gai-raTvay's; see Introduction, Sec- tion 13. •Garter; the badge of the highest or- der of English knighthood ; it is a ribbon of dark blue velvet, edged with gold and worn upon the left knee; p. 94, 1. 2. Gazette; see Introduction, Section 30 ; see also London Gazette. Gelding; a horse as distinguished from a mare and a stallion ; p. 200. 1. 7. Genius, oi* daemon; according to ancient superstitions, the attendant spirit allotted to a person at his birtb to govern his fortunes and determine his character. According to some traditions, there were supposed to be two such spirits, disputing or sharing the task between them, one evil and the other good ; p. 162, 1. 12. Places, too, are superstitiously believed to have such controlling spirits; p. 309, 1. 21. Gibbets; see Introduction, Sectior 16. Giles's; see Introduction, Section 13. Glasses; a general term for micro- scopes, telescopes, magnifying glasses, etc. Addison erred in sup- posing them to have been invoutec! near his time. They have gradually evolved from primitive instruments of ancient date ; p. 161, 1. 10. Golden Fleece; according to ar old tale, the marvelous fleece of t .winged ram stolen by means of sor eery and trickery from a city oi Asia Minor by a miscellaneous com pany of Greeks ; p. 254, 1. 16. Golden number; a number usee in calculating the time when Eastei will fall ; p. 299, 1. 3. Goi'dian knot; in a Greek legend, one Gordius tied a knot which could not be untied. According to super- natural prophecy, he who undid it would become master of Asia. Alex- ander, afterwards the Great, cut i1 through with his sword; p. 215, 1. 22. Gospel gossip; one who is always talking of sermons, texts, etc. ; p. 183, 1. 14. Gossiping; christening; p. 125, 1 GLOSSAEY 341 Gothic; a term ignorantly applied in tlie early eighteenth century to any work of art or of letters between the fall of the Roman Empire and the very recent attempts to imitate Greek and Roman taste ; sometimes applied even to Shakespeare. Ad- dison whimsically uses the term for the affected courtier poets of the late seventeenth century. "I look upon these writers," says Addison (Spectator 62) "as Goths in poetry, who, like those in architecture, not being able to come up to the beauti- ful simplicity of the old Greeks and Romans, have endeavored to supply its place with all the extravagances of an irregular fancy" ; p. 252, 1. 5. Gotlis and Vandals; barbarians; p. 78, 1. 10. Gi'and "Vizier; chief minister of the Sultan; p. 192, 1. 11. Greatcoat; overcoat; p. 64, 1. 17. Great Iiorse; war horse or charger; p. 101, 1. 14. Great Turk; the- Sultan; p. 68, 1. 8. Gx*eciaii, The; see Introduction, Section 13. Grottoes; see under Topiary. Gnai'dian, Tlie; a little daily, like the Spectator. It was begun by Steele in March, 1713, and ran for about thirty weeks; pp. 173, 196. Guy of "WarTvick; in old tales, a hero who slays giants and dragons but rescues lions and ladies. He dies of melancholy. His wife follows fif- teen days after. Their Epitaph Under this marble lies a pair. Scarce such another in tfie world there are. Like him so valiant or like her so fair; p. 127, 1. 5. Habit ; liabits ; costumes or clothes ; p. 309, 1. 7. Half-a=eroT*^n; two shillings and a half ; equivalent to about sixty cents; p. 68, 1. 4. Halifax, Lord; see Introduction. Section 32, note. Haymarket; one of the two thea- ters in town ; the one devoted to opera ; p. 271, 1. 3. Headdress; see Introduction, Sec- tion 5, note. Herb-Tvoman ; one who sells herbs ; p. 81, 1. 9. Hercules; in ancient mythology, the god of physical strength and cour- age; p. 270, 1. 26. Herodotus; an ancient Greek trav- eler and historian ; vivid, garrulous ; somewhat credulous, but always nat- ural ; often called the father of his- tory ; p. 169, 1. 13. Heroic Poems; narrative poems in celebration of heroic characters and events, usually of national impor- tance. In the earliest times, long poems, of this sort developed as fol- lows : Among a simple people, leg- etids grew up about any striking events or characters, magnifying them. The ways of nature, such as the rising and the setting of the sun, also started stories, more or less re- ligious, called myths. These legends and myths, gathered about some heroic achievement, were composed finally under the hand of one or more poets into a long heroic poem. This was not the creation, as Addison and his contemporaries thought, of one definite purpose. It was a growth. Its gods and goddesses were not clever literary machinery deliber- ately invented by a shrewd poet. They, too, were a growth, notwith- standing Addison's remarks ; p. 2.53, 1. 7. Homer's Iliad and Odyssey were poems of this character. They probably existed much as we know them today a good many years before the Greeks were involved in wars with Persia, and were composed, in part at least, of poems rather local in their character. The deeds of the hero Achilles in the Siege of Troy, as told in the Iliad, and the later 342 GLOSSARY wanderings of Ulysses, as told in the Odyssey, were legendary events ; see Homer; see Virgil; see Bal- lads. Hesiod; one of the earliest of the Greek poets. He wrote of gods and heroes, the origin of the world and the quiet pursuits of ordinary life ; p. 329, 1. 24. Hioliertlirift, Jolin; commonly called Tom Hickathrift in old tales, an overgrown farm boy, who, when he chose, could carry a ton of hay on his head or pull up a tree as big as a cart ; but what he chiefly loved was idleness ; p. 127, 1. 12. Hig-li-cliurcli ; laying great stress on the authority of the clergy and on the power and significance of the ceremonies of the Church of Eng- land ; p. 101, 1. 29. Hipiied; affected by hypochondria; in low spirits ; slang in Steele's time rs it is today; p. ISS, 1. 6. Hippocrates; a Greek philosopher, sometimes called the father of med- icine : p. 243, 1. 7. Hoiiiei*; the ancient Greek poet who composed the legends of the Iliad and Odyssey in their present form (see Heroic Poems) ; recognized in the eighteenth century as the greatest of all poets. "The source," said Dr. Johnson, "of everything in and out of nature that can serve the purpose of poetry is to be found in Homer ; every species of distress, every modification of heroic charac- ter, battles, storms, ghosts, incanta- tions, etc."; p. 90, 1. S; see also Introduction, Section 10. Honeycomb, ^Vill; see under Clubs. Honey-montli; a pedantic substi- tute for honeymoon ; p. 305, 1. 4. Horace; a Latin poet of the time of Augustus, famous for wit, urbanity, aptness, and discretion. His Art of Poetry {Ars Poetica) , according to John Conington's translation, gives the following characteristic advice : Let but our theme be equal to our powers. Choice language, clear arrangement, both are ours. Would you be told how best your pearls to thread? Why just say now what just now should be said. But put off other matter for today, To introduce it later, by the way ; p. 197, 1. 20 ; see also Introduction, Section 10. Hudibras; a jeering doggerel poem by Samuel Butler (1612-1680), who had very unwillingly served as a clerk to a Puritan magistrate. Sir Hubibras is a Presbyterian who sal- lies out, clad in armor, to suppress other men's pleasures : When civil dudgeon first grew high. And men fell out, they knew not why, When hard work, jealousies and fears. Set folks together by the ears, :t; :}; ^ :}: When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded With long-eared rout, to battle sounded, And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic. Was beat with fist instead of a stick, Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling And out he rode a colonelling ; p. 87, 1. 21. H iimble-do-fvii ; Homildon Hill, in the far north of England ; the scene of an a Gray between English and Scotch in 1402 ; p. 255, 1. 24. Hiimor; (1) animal fluid. The four cardinal humors of the ancient physi- cians were blood, choler (yellow bile), phlegm, and melancholy (black bile), regarded by them as determin- ing by their conditions and propor- tions a person's physical and mental qualities and disposition ; p. 291, 1. 24. Hence (2) one's disposition as distinguished from that of other GLOSSARY 343 people, one's mood; p. 202, 1. G; (3) oddity of behavior; (4) humors; whimsical inclinations, tastes founded upon temperament, not upon reason. HTiiiioi*i$its; persons acting upon their OAvn whims or humors rather than conventionally ; persons having an odd way of their own ; p. 49, 1. 12. HTiJitin§--seat; the way one sits a horse Avhen hunting, p. 101. 1. 17. Hydaspes; a rOle taken by Nicolini (see Introduction, Section 6) in May, 17.10. He is thrown into the arena to be devoured by a lion but the sight of the woman he loves so heartens him that he destroys the beast with his naked hand ; p. 271, 1. 10. Hyde Park; see under liondon and "W^estmiiister; see also In- troduction, Section 30. II; see Clio. Imperial Majesty, His; see un- der Louis XIV. Impei'tinemtj irrelevant; p. 54, 1. 7. Indiffiei'ent; (a) ordinary; p. 70, 1. IS ; (b) immaterial ; p. 158, 1. 23 ; (c) impartial; p. 321, 1. 9. Inns; see Introduction, Section 16. Inns of Court; see under Lion- don and "Westminster. Instrument of distinction; a source of unpleasant distinctions ; p. 287, 1. 23. Ii°is; in Greek mythology, the goddess of the rainbow and messenger of the gods : "Downward the various goddess took her flight. And drew a thousand colors from the light. Virgil -.^neid :IV -.1003-1004 ; trans- lated by John Dryden ; p. 225, 1. 28. Ironside, Nestor; the name as- sumed by Steele in writing his papers for the Guardian as he assumed the name of Isaac Bickerstaff when writ- ing his Toilers; p. 178, 1. 21. Islington; see under London and Westminster. Israel and Jndali, History of tlie King's of; the Books of Kings and of Chronicles. For an il- lustration of Addison's point, see Chronicles I :XXI :1-17 ; p. 170, 1. 4. Jenny Man's; properly, Jenny Mann's Tiltyard Coffee house ; p. 71, 1. 6 ; see also Introduction, Sec- tion 13. Johnson, Dr. ; see Introduction, Section 3. Join-Iiaud; (a) handwriting; (b) the class in handwriting ; p. 157. 1. 1. Joint stool; a stool made of parts by a joiner or cabinet maker ; p. 287, 1. 22. Jonathan's; see Introduction, Sec- tion 13. Jonson, Ben; "Rare Ben Jonson" ; author of good comedies, stiff trag- edies, and two or three exquisite lyrics in the time of Shakespeare ; p. 252, 1. 22. Journals; see Introduction, Section 23. Jndgment; a token of divine dis- pleasure; p. 167, 1. 3. Jndgment day; see Matthew XXV:31-46; p. 170. 1. 29. Jnpiter; the greatest of the Roman gods; p. 278, 1. 3. Justice of tlie Peace; see In- troduction, Section 18. Kelly, Captain; see Introduction, Section 30. Kennels; see Introduction, Section 2. Kine; cows; p. 240, 1. 11. King of France's deatli; in 1712, French circles were greatly disturbed by the rumor that various recent deaths in the royal family were due to poison. From this rumor 344 GLOSSAEY may have sprung the English report of the king's death ; p. 70, 1. 10. Kit-cat Clul>; see Introduction, Section 25. Knig-lit of the Sliire; see Intro- duction, Section 18. li; see Clio. Laced coffiee; coffee with a touch of spirits in it ; p 193, 1. 26. I^anded Estates; see Introduction, Section 15. liandiuarks of otir fathers; a reference to Deuteronomy 19:14, etc., p. 235, 1. 19. Laiid's End; the southwestern-most point of England, between two hun- dred and fifty and three hundred miles from London. Exeter is about three-fifths of the way toward it ; p. 303, 1. 2. Liarani; call to arms; hubbub; state of alarm ; p. 150, 1. 17. liate iiigenioiiis author; Dean Swift, as much alive in 1711 as Ad- dison himself. Addison quotes from Swift's Thoughts on Various Sub- jects, Moral and Diverting ; p. 320, 1. 1. Liaiisus; see Virgil. Letter from a Gentleman; such a letter was promised in the last paragraph of No. 119 ; p. 229, I. 22. liCviatlian; a sea beast described in Job XLI; p. 163, 1. 16. liCTvis; see Louis. Ligon, Richard; a True and Exact History of the Island «»f Barbados, 1st ed., 1657. Perhaps Steele's attention was drawn to this book by the fact that in 1706, he inherited from his first wife, Mrs. Margaret Stretch, a plantation in the Barbadoes, worth over four thousand dollars a year. It owed its wealth, of course, to slave labor. The book contains the following passage: ''This Indian dwelling near the Sea- coast, upon the Main, an English ship put in to a Bay, and sent some of her men a shoar, to try what victualls or water they could find, for in some distresse they were : But the Indians perceiv- ing them to go up so far into the country, as they were sure they could not make a safe retreat, intercepted them in their return, and fell upon them, chasing them into a Wood, and being dispersed there, some were taken, and some kill'd : but a young man amongst them stragling from the rest, was met by this Indian Maid, who upon the first sight fell in love with him, and hid him close from her Countrymen (the Indians) in a cave, and there fed him, till they could safely go down to the shoar, where the ship lay at anchor, expecting the return of their friends. But at last, seeing them upon the shoar, sent the long-Boat for them, took them aboard, and brought them away. But the youth, when he came ashoar in the Barljadoes, forgot the kindness of the poor maid, that had ventured her life for his safety, and sold her for a slave, who was as free born as he : And so poor Yarico for her love, lost her liberty." The name Inh^e, meaning originally cheap tape, was a clever invention of Steele's for the miserable merchant in stuffs wlio figures in the story ; p. 152, 1. 1. Lillie, Charles; a perfumer and agent for the Tatler and Spectator; p. 180, 1. 24, Lion anel the man; one of La Fontaine's fablesj. It was also re^ counted in Lord Shaftesbury's "Characteristics" the same year with the Spectator; it was most vividly told in 1851 by Cardinal Newman in his first lecture on the Present Position of Catholics in England; p. 151, 1. 5. Lion -^vill not hurt a virgin; out of deference to the Virgin Mary ; an absurd piece of monkish natural history in medieval times ; p. 272, 1. 8. GLOSSARY 345 Jist; enlist; p. 82, 1. 2; see Intro- cluction, Section 21. iloyd's Coffee liouse; see Intro- duction, Section 13. joaden.; loaded or laden; p. 280, 1. 2. iOmbard Street; see under Lon- don and Westminster. iOndon and Westminster; legally two municipalities, though separated only by a small arch called Temple Bar. Close to this bar, in Sheer or Shire Lane, was supposed to live the quaint bachelor, Isaac BickerstafC, who, it was pretended, wrote the Tatler papers. All about him were coffee houses and taverns. Toward the West, lay Westminster or the Town. It contained all the smart residences, the parks, West- minster Abbey, the only two theaters, and the courts of law. (The term Westminster was sometimes used to mean the Courts, the Judiciary, or the Legal Profession.) Within the boundaries of Westminster, parlia- ment met and on its Western out- skirts was the Queen's palace. To the East of Temple Bar, lay Old London or the City, with its busy, money-making Citizens, the jest of men of birth. Here were found, to- gether with much that was drab and petty, ships that brought merchan- dise at profit, the great Bank of Bng'land (which see), the Royal Exchange, and Lomiard Street, as famous in Europe as Wall Street is in America; p. 51, 1. 8; Cliaring' Cross ; a center of busy traffic in the Town. "The full tide of human existence," said Dr. Johnson, "'is at Charing Cross" ; p. 71, 1. 14. Clieapside; in the old city of London, a street of busy shops and the region surrounding it. It also contained dwellings, among them the Lord Mayor's substantial rersidence; p. 69, 1. 10. Covent Garden; called by Steele, "the heart of the Town" ; full of fruit shops, theater- goers, and the world on the wing ; p. 71, 1. 14. Hyde Pai-k; a park of over six hundred acres oa the western outskirts of the Town. It had retired spots, well adapted for dueling in the early morning. Here on November 15, 1712, the Duke of Hamilton killed the in- veterate duelist. Lord Mohun, and was in turn treacherously stabbed, so it was said, by Lord Mohun's second ; p. 120, 1. 8. Inns of Court; the four Inns of Court (p. 87, 1. IS) in London were (and in- deed, still are) four societies or colleges of lawyers and law-stu- dents, which had the sole right of conferring the degree of barrister at law. These four luns were named, from the halls of residence and meet- ing places of their members. Lin- coln's Inn and Gray's Inn (anciently belonging to the Earls of Lincoln and Gray) were the one in the* City and the other in the Town ; and the Inner and Middle Temple (once the property of the Knights Templar) were close to Temple Bar. A mem- ber of either the Inner of Middle Temple was called a Templar; p. 53, 1. IS. New Inn was attached to the Middle Temple. Pleasant walks and gardens were connected with these Inns. Their government was In the hands of their senior mem- bers, called Benchers; p. 87, 1. IS. Isling'ton; a modest suburb two miles from St. Paul's Cathedral. "Men who frequent coffee houses are as pleased to hear of a piebald horse that has strayed out of a field near Islington as of a whole troop that have been engaged in any foreign adventure" ; Spceta- tor 452; p. 192, 1. 5. Mall, Tbe; a fashionable walk in St. James's Park, lined on one side with "good- ly elms," on the other by gay, flow- ering limes ; p. 66, 1. 7. Paxil's Clinrcliyard ; St. Paul's Church- yard ; a busy area, lined with sta- 3^6 GLOSSARY tioners' and printers' shops, etc., surrounding St. Paul's Cathedral and its burial ground; p. 71, 1. 30. Ring-, Tlie; a fashionable resort in Hyde Park for promenaders and horsemen; p. 184, 1.15. St. James's; the route to the Queen's palace ; lined with polite residences, smart coffee houses, and various re- sorts of fashion; p. 69, 1. 8. St. James's Park; a favorite but not fashionable rendezvous for lovers and others where one saw cows in the meadow and birds on the lake; p. 64, 1. 12. Smitlifield; a square famous for its cattle market and cattle fairs. "Here I see in- stances of a piece of craft and cun- ning that I never dreamed of, con- cerning the buying and selling of horses." Peinj>i ; p. 69, 1. 12. ToT5'er, Tlie; an ancient and gloomy mass of buildings in Old London, used as a fortress, a prison, and a museum. From 1252, when Henry III of England became pos- sessor of a white bear, until 1830, it caged a few wild animals from foreign parts for the pleasure of the populace. This was a source of many jests among the wits. Per- haps the reference to the tiger on page 271 is one of these witticisms. Westminster Abbey; here the most celebrated of the English dead are buried together with others whose fame was but ephemeral. The Poets' Corner contains the tombs among others of Chaucer, Spenser, Ben Jonson, and Dryden. Among the royal personages commemorated in the Abbey are Queen Elizabetli and Mary, Queen of Scots, whom she executed, Richard II, murdered in the reign of Henry IV, and Edward V, slain by Richard III; p. 315, 1. 2. Sixty-five years after Addison wrote of the Abbey, Dr. Johnson asserted that he would never consent to disgrace its walls with an En- glish inscription. To both Addison and Johnson, as to all their learnei contemporaries, Latin seemed to proper language for epitaphs. Fo other accounts of the Abbey, see Ad dison's 829th issue of the Spectator Washington Irviug's Sketch liook Oliver Goldsmith's Citizen of th( World and Charles Lamb's Letter o Elia to Robert Southey. Esq W^estminster Hall; a sp;:ciou: hall, 290 feet by 68, in which th( law courts met. Part of the spac< they did not use was devoted t( the stalls of booksellers, law-sta tioners, and other small shop keep- ers ; p. 81, 1. 18. London Gazette; "the most cau- tious of all the gazettes" ; said tc insert "no news but what is cer- tain" ; published Mondays, Thurs days, and Saturdays ; p. 100, 1. 27. London Prentice; see Introduc tion. Section 9. Lotteries; although in 1699 parlia- ment had declared all lotteries to be public nuisances, in 1710 and again in 1711 it arranged to borrow £1,500,000 (about $7,500,000) by means of one. Each ticket was to cost £10. In thirty-two years every- one would get back his money and meanwhile get 6 per cent a year. In addition, over £400,000 were te be divided into prizes, payable also in thirty- two years, with the same rate of interest. Schoolboys did the drawing. "The jackanapes," says Dean Swift, "gave themselves such airs in pulling out the tickets and showed white hands open to the • company to let us see there was no cheat" ; p. 297. Louis XIV; called the Bourbon be- cause of his family surname and Le Grand Monarque because of the mag- nificence of his reign. He was king of France from 1643, when he as- cended the throne at five years of age, until his death in 1715. In 1661, he took the management of the GLOSSARY 347 government into his own hands. There were at least five reasons why his reign produced a great impres- sion throughout Europe. (a) He centered the wealth, the fashion, and the culture of the kingdom about his court. Moliere, Boileau, and the other great writers whom he encour- aged by his bounty set the literary standards for Europe, (b) He built up great industries and commercial enterprises with no regard to the comfort or health of those employed in them. In this, too, he was imi- tated, particularly by the practical "Whig statesmen under William III, Queen Anne, and the Georges, (c) He determined to enlarge the bound- aries and increase the national power of France by conquests on sea and laud. He invaded Belgium and Germany, tried to make the Medi terranean a French sea, and got all the transatlantic colonies and com- merce possible, (d) In 1713, after twelve years of bloody war (the War of the Spanish Succession), he put his grandson, the Duke of Anjou, on the Spanish throne against the claims of his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Leopold of Austria, and his successors, (e) Louis XIV cham- pioned the cause of Roman Cathol- icism throughout Europe, and in 16S5 forbade the exercise of the Re- formed (or Protestant) Religion in France, and the education of chil- dren in the Protestant faith. Louis's ambition Involved him in war not only with the Protestant powers of England and Holland but with some Catholic powers as well, who were determined that no one nation should gain a dangerous predomi- nance over all the others. This ef- fort on their part they called "main- taining the balance of power"; p. 67, 1. 26. As a result of these wars, England, in 1713, found herself the chief sea power in Europe ; pp. 57- 62. LiOuvre; an imposing mass of public buildings in the center of Paris, partially occupied by works of art ; in Addison's day it also contained rooms assigned by the Crown to men of letters and of learning ; p. 77, 1. 1. Lncian; a deft and sprightly Greek wit of the second century after Christ, who rallied the philosophers and burlesqued the gods ; p. 236, 1. 7. Magrazine; store or store-house; p. 89, 1. 28. Maliomet (571?-632); better, Mo- hammed ; among the Christians of the eighteenth century universally believed to be an impostor who made use of his epileptic fits to dupe his followers into believing him a proph- et of God. Addison confuses his birthplace, Mecca^ with his place of burial, Medina. Mecca, to which Mohammedans (Moslems) flock in pilgrimage and from which all Chris- tians are jealously excluded, contains a stone, possibly meteoric, which may have led to Addison's story on p. 297, 1. 12. It is a story, says Bayle's famous eighteenth century dic- tionary, which makes the "followers of Mahomet" "laugh when they hear Christians assert it as a fact." Ad- dison evidently gathered his ideas of Mohammedans from ideas current in his day and a hasty reading of miscellaneous books. The follow- ing are four of the sources for his impressions: (a) The Frenchman, Antoine Galland, introduced the Ara-^ tian Nights' Entertertainments to Europe by very free translations and adaptations, which ran from 1704 to 1712. It was through these, prob- ably, that Addison learned about the chief scene for these stories, the rich Mohammedan city and province in Asia, called Bagdad (rather than Bagdat) ; p. 308, 1. 12. (b) Sir Paul Rycaut, member of the Royal 348 GLOSSAEY Society (which see), iu 1668, published an account of the Turkish Empire, ^Yhich contained the facts he had carefully accumulated during five years' residence in Constanti- nople. Will Honeycomb's impres- sion to the contrary (p. 201, 1. 6), he nowhere implies that the Turks believe in the transmigration of the soul, and, though they are tender to animals, he finds them peculiarly cruel to human beings, (c) It was a matter of common notoriety in Addison's day that Algiers (p. 201, 1. 11) and Morocco, on the African coast of the Mediterranean, had long been nests of Mohammedan pi- rates who preyed on Christian ship- ping and shamefully abused all Christian captives till they were ran- somed. TJie Sultan or King of Mo- rocco (p. 226, 1. 4) ; from 1672 to 1727 was Ismail the Bloodthirsty, noted for his ability, his vitality, and the variations in his dress, which he changed according to his mood. "Green was his favorite, white the most promising of good behavior, yel- low was fatal." (d) The hatred which Christians early felt for Mo- hammedans has left its traces in many absurd stories that grew cruder and cruder and more and more childish, till they reached the penny books that were hawked about among the people. The most absurd of these stories is perhaps the London Prentice ; see Introduction, Sec- tion 9. Main; (a) the open sea along a coast line; (b) a coast; p. 152, 1. 22. Majesty, Her; Queen Anne, who reigned from 1702 to 1714; p. 57, 1. 11 ; His Majesty; George I, who reigned from 1714 to 1727; p. 98, 1. 1. ■ Mall, Tlie; see under liondon and W^estniinster. Manor, Loi'd of the; chief land- ed proprietor of a community ; the squire; lady of tlie manor ; his wife; p. 231, 1. 17; see Introduction, Sec tions 17, 18. March 13, 1710-11; until 1752 the legal year began in Englan March 25, though the customar; reckoning began January 1. Betwee; these days, two dates are, therefore often given, the first the legal o "old" style, the second the popula or "new" ; p. 51. Marg-arita; Francesca Mai-gariti de I'Epine ; an Italian opera singe of the day; p. 132, 1. 11. Marlborough, Dxilie of; th' most brilliant, handsome, avaricious and unscrupulous English general o; his time; like Addison and Steele, j Whig; p. 241, 1. 11; see Introduc tion. Sections 21 and 25. Marston Moor (1644) ; Naseb:^ (1645) ; Edg-ehill (1642) ; bat ties in the English Civil "W'ar two total defeats for the king', forces and one drawn battle ; pp 87-89. Martial; a social "climber" and epi- grammatic poet of the early Romar Empire; p. 252, 1. 12. Maslied; masquerades with maskec faces were common in Addison's day; p. 206, 1. 15. Master; captain; p. 109, 1. 7. Matches; in our sense of the term, not known until the nineteenth cen- tury ; in Addison's day, pieces of cord, cloth, paper, or wood which had been dipped in melted sulphur and could be easily lighted ; p. 1S2, 1. 19. Medley, The; a Whig organ started to combat the Tory Examiner ;^i%Qle and Addison contributed to it; p. 75, 1. 17. ^leeting'-honse; a Protestant place of worship not connected with the Church of England; p. 102, 1. 23 ; see Conventicle. Men of Sense; men pleased with the growing reasonableness of their age. With John Dryden they could say: "Is it not evident in these last hundred years . . . that GLOSSAEY 349 more useful experiments in philoso- phy [physics] have been made, more noble secrets in optics, medicine, anatomy, astronomy discovered, than in all these credulous and doting ages from Aristotle to us? So true it is that nothing spreads so fast as science when rightly and generally cultivated." Men of sense controlled their emotions, conventionalized their behavior, and aimed to be al- ways normal, usual, and judicious; p. 106, 1. 21 ; see also Royal Society. en of Taste; see Introduction, Sections 8, 9, 10, 11. enzikofif, Prince (d. 1729) ; a favorite of the Russian Czar, Peter the Great ; he was brutal, versatile, and corrupt ; p. 66. 1. 27. ei'cer; a retail drygoods merchant; p. 54, 1. 26. ei-ry - tlionglit; wish-bone ; p. 158, 1. 27. etliinlis; it seems to me; p. 124, 1. 18. itldle Temple ; see Inns of Court imder London and Westmin- ster. ilton, John (1608-74) ; "the first of our English poets," says Addison, who "in the greatness of his senti- ments triumphs over all the poets , . . Homer only excepted." Addi- son devoted the Spectator for every Saturday from January 5 to May 3, 1712, to discussing Paradise Lost. The Tatler quotes the opening lines of Book V (p. 238) and Book IX: 445-451 (p. 240). The eloquent spirit on p. 90 is the fiend Belial ; Par. Lost, 11:113. irandola; an Italian town on the road from Bologna to Verona. It had dukes of its own from 1619 to 1710; p. 66, 1. 27. ;oliere (1622-1673) ; a master of clear, logical, polished, French com- edy ; p. 251, 1. 12. [onnionth; see under Cock. Monstrous pair of Ijreeeliesj see under Cliange of sex. Morocco; see under Maliomet. 3Ioses's serpent; should be Aar- on's. Exodus, VII:8-12; p. 52, L 27. 3Iotlier Cob's Mild; probably some malt drink sold as a quack medicine ; p. 192, 1. 6. Mrs.; abbreviation for "mistress," formerly applied as a title of re- spect to any woman or girl, whether married or unmarried ; p. 122, 1. 23. 3Incro; in zoology, a technical term for a sharp point ; p. 215, 1. 16. Mnff ; see Introduction, Section 4. Mnscovy; Russia; p. 53, 1. 4; see under Siveden, Kins' of. 3Iystery; a bookish term for an art or trade ; p. 75, 1. 14. Naseby; see uuder Marston Moor. IVatnre; normal human nature; nor- mal feelings ; see Introduction, Sec- tions 0, 8. Aavy; see Introduction, Section 21. Nemesis; in ancient mythology, the goddess of retribution or vengeance ; p. 168, 1. 12. Nero; commonly remembered as the cruelest of the Roman Emperors ; p. 72, 1. 20. Nestor; the most venerable of all the Greeks pictured in Homer's Iliad ; p. 90, 1. 8. NeTT Forest; see under William, tbe Conqueror. New Inn; see Inns of Court under London and Westminster. Newmarket; a famous English race course ; p. 196, 1. 16. Neivsletter; see Introduction, Sec- tion 23. NeT*^spapers; see Introduction, Section 23. Newton, Sii* Isaac; see under Royal Society. Nicolini; see under Hydaspes; also see Introduction, Section 6. 350 GLOSSAEY Nigrlit in London; see Introduc- tiou, Section 3. Nonconformist; any English Protestant not conforming to tlie practices of the Church of England ; p. 81, 1. 11. Nonjux'ors; when William and Mary, in accordance with the choice of parliament, ascended the throne in 1689, four hundred of the clergy refused to take the oath of alle- giance to the new sovereigns, on the ground that Mary's father, James II, was still, by divine right, the head of the Church and the State. Al- though he was a Roman Catholic, they tried to maintain a Protestant church with him as its head. They were called nonjurors ; p. 72, 1. 17. Non-resistance; same as pas- sive olbedienee (which see) ; p- 95, 1. 2. North; about the Baltic Sea; p. 65, 1. 17 ; see under g-^veden, Kins' - of. Nortlianiptonsliire; an English county, at its nearest point fifty miles from London ; p. 262, 1. 24. Nortlinniberland; this northern- most shire or county of England suf- fered severely by border raids in the old days when England and Scotland were different countries and perpetu- ally at war ; p. 255, 1. 13. O; see Clio. Occasional conformity; see In- troduction, Section 19, note. Occult sciences; masses of super- stition regarding supposed magic powers in the star s, in metals, spells, etc. ; p. 203, 1. 8. October; ale brewed in October; p. 96, 1. 9. Offices; services; duties or func- tions; p. 121, 1. 3. Officiously; attentively; p. 278, 1. 20. 08"le, Jolm; a seventeenth century roisterer ; p. 87, 1. 20. Oldiield, Mrs.; see Introductior Section 7, Olympic grames; every fou years, athletes from the variou cities and states of Greece gathere at Olympia for contests that rouse the interest of the whole Gree race; p. 196, 1. 13. Open-breasted; with the coa open so as to display a fine shir and a m.anly and youthful indiffei ence to tlie weather ; p. 126, 1. 2. Opei-a; see Introduction, Section 6 Ordinary (noun) ; a table d'h5t meal; p. 81, 1. 17. Ordinary (adj.); ordinarily; p 178, 1. 1. Orplieus; according to an ancieu Greek story, a hero who couL charm birds, beasts, and even tree and stones with the music of hi lyre; p. 272, 1. 4. Os cribriforme; a sieve-like bon; plate ; through it passes the nervi connected with smelling; p. 211, 1 1. Out of ox'der; not well; p. 202, 1 16. Ovid; a Latin writer of amator: verse. His Art of Love is full o figures drawn from the sea. I also contains this passage (see H T, Riley's translation) : "What an I to say on clothing ? . . . Lo ! then is the color of the sky at a tim( when the sky is without clouds anc the warm south wind is not sum moning the showers of rain" ; p 226, 1. 19. Oxford; Oxford University; p. 182. 1. 9. Pjicket-boat; a boat running a1 regular intervals between ports, foi the conveyance of mails, passengers, and freight; p. 306, 1. 24. Pactolus; a small river of Asia Mi- nor, celebrated for the gold to be found in its bed of r^and ; p. 181, 1. 14. GLOSSAEY 351 iPamplileteers; see Introduction, Section 22. Paper; in Addison's day, composed of linen rags made into pulp by ma- chinery and shaped into paper by hand with the use of molds and sheets of felt. The manufacture was introduced into England with the Whig revolution of 1688; p. 74, 1. 17. Pai'liament mam ; member of par- liament ; p. 230, 1. 27. Particular; (a) exceptional; p. 144, 1. 2; (b) distinctive; p. 168, 1. 4. Particularity; (a) distinctive characteristic; p. 106, 1. 7; (b) fas- tidiousness ; p. 148, 1. 1. Parts; abilities; p. 106, 1. 24. Passive obedience, doctrine of; the doctrine, once held by ex- treme Tories, that resistance to one's king, whether as head of the Church or of the State, is always wrong. Since William, Mary, Anne, and all the Georges owed their posi- tion to the fact that James II had not been passively obeyed, this doc- trine was not at all relished by their ardent supporters ; p. 96, 1. 30. Paste; a sweet cake or dainty made of dough ; p. 147, 1. 16. Patches; in the 81st Spectator, not printed in this volume, Addison pretends that Whigladies "patched" on one side of the face and Tory ladies on the other; p. 324, 1. 18; see Introduction, Section 5. Paul's Churcliyard ; see under London and "Westminster. Pay liis attendance; attend; p. 268, 1. 13. Pensioner of Holland; the chief magistrate of any Dutch city; p. 77, 1. 9. PeriTi-igs; same as Wigs (which see). Person; personal appearance; p. 144, 1. 6. Perukes; seme as Wigs (which see). Petronius; see under Ephesian Matron. Petticoats; see Introduction, Sec- tion 5. Pliilaritlimus ; from the Greek for love and arithmetic; p. 62, 1. 26. Pliilipater; from the Greek for love and father; p. 142, 1. 21. Pliilomot; should be ^iejwo*; brown- ish-yellow; p. 225, 1. 6. Pliilosophy; science ; especially physics; p. 161, 1. 7. Pliysic; medicine; p. 291, 1. 6. Pindar; an ancient Greek poet vho sang the praises of the victors at the great athletic contests of his day, "Can anything be more ridic- ulous than for men of sober and moderate fancy to imitate this poet's way of writing in those monstrous compositions which go among us un- der the name of Pindarics?'" — Spec- tator, No. 160; p. 196, 1. 18. Pineal gland; a little portion of the brain, shaped like a pine-cone, the function of which is not known. Old writers liked to consider it the seat of the soul; p. 209, 1. 15. Pit; orchestra seats; p. 225, 1. 11. Plant; a sapling used as a cudgel or staff; p. 267, 1. 21. Plantation; any large group of planted trees ; p. 248, 1. 26. Play, Tlie; see Introduction, Sec- tions 7-11. Pliny ; Pliny the Younger ; a literary' man of the early Roman Empire, who took fastidious pains over his letters with a view to their publica- tion. Three of them appear in the 149th issue of the Tatler; p. 129, 1. 9. Plot, Robert; a somewhat cred- ulous antiquary of the seventeenth century ; for some time secretary of the Royal Society (which see) ; p. 326, 1. 6. Plume of feathers; "You must doubtless have observed that great numbers of young fellows have for several months last past taken upon 352 GLOSSARY them to wear feathers." — Spectator, No. 319 ; p. 215, 1. 3. Plutarcli; a Greek moralist. Our ideas of Roman virtue are largely derived from his idealistic biogra- phies of Roman men of action ; p. 169, 1. 14. Point of Tvar; a strain of mar- tial music; p. 126, 1. 21. Poland; in 1710, an independent kingdom, governed by a king who was elected by the nobles ; p. 53, 1. 4 ; see Sweden, Kins' of. Polite; (a) polished, cultured, re- fined; (b) recognized as appealing to cultivated taste; p. 240, 1. 13; (c) civilized and fashionable ; p. 76, 1. 23. Pope, Alexander; see Introduc- tion, Section 26. Porto-Carrero; a cardinal arch- bishop of Toledo in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ; p. 198, 1. 27. Portsniontli; England's greatest naval station ; p. 94, 1. 13, Post; (a) a post placed in the street, to which notices could be affixed ; p. 120, 1. 14; (b) mail; p. 100, 1. 26. Post-l>oy; (a) postman; p. 100, 1. 23 ; (b) a journal of the time pub- lished every other day, given to re- porting news as hearsay ; p. 65, 1. 25. Postman; a journal of the time, edited by a French Protestant, with some reputation for its foreign news and correspondence; p. 63, 1. 11. Ponnd; an English unit of money, worth about five dollars ; p. 89, 1. 2. PoAvell; see Introduction, Section 6. Precise; exacting and unadaptable; p. 147, 1. 4. I'rentice; see Apprentice. Preparation sermons; sermons in preparation for the communion service; p. 183, 1. 16. Presbyterians; one of a body of Christians who disbelieve in bish- ops and are governed by assemblies or convocations in which all tht clergy (or presbyters) have an equal voice. When they secured power ic the Civil War (which see) thej made themselves obnoxious by theii rigid censorship of pleasures and amusements. Such a Tory squire at Addison describes in the Freeholder might call even a bishop a Presby- teiian if the bishop were a rigid moralist; p. 102, 1. 26. Preserving tlie game; see In- troduction, Sections 17 and 18. Preston; see under Civil War. Prevented; anticipated; p. 183, 1. 3. Pricked dances; dances according to set, printed music. Musical notes at one time were pricked rather than printed ; p. 209, 1. 28. Prince of Hesse; a German prince, more or less closely allied with the English in their wars against Louis XIV of France; p. 241, 1. 15. Prints; periodicals; p. 53, 1. 1. Proficient; proficient man; p. 185, 1. 15. Progress; a journey made in state by some royal personage or high dignitary ; p. 70, 1. 8. Projector; promoter; p. 224, 1. 22. Prne; see Introduction, Section 32, note. Punch and Jndy; see Introduc- tion, Section 6. Pni'l; a medicine of malt liquor with wormwood and aromatics ; p. 193, 1. 21. Pyrrlius; a brilliant but restlesg Greek king over three hundred years before Christ, who invaded Italy to fight the Romans. Steele borrows the story, p. 61, 1. 28, from Plutarch. Pytliagoi'as; an early Greek phi- losopher. His followers believed in the value of self-examination and in the transmigration of souls (which see) ; p. 114, 1, 13. Q,uadrate; square; p. 261, 1. 11. Q,uality; (a) rank; social position; GLOSSARY 353 p. 251, 1. 11; (b) high social posi- tion; p. 116, 1. 11. Quarter sessions; same as county sessions; see Introduc- tion, Section IS. Q,neen's time; the reign of Queen Anne (1702-14) ; p. 99. 1. 20. Q,uomni; see Introduction, Section 18. Racine; -see under Corneille. RainljoT*^, Tlxe; see Introduction, Section 13. Raleigli, Sir "Walter; author, courtier, and adventurer on the high seas, under Queen Elizabeth ; through the plots of his enemies, executed under James I in 1618; p. 175, 1. 29. Ramillies; a famous victory by the English under the Duke of Marl- borough in 1706 ; p. 144, 1. 22. Rampant; rearing or standing with the forepaws in the air; p. 176, 1. 6. Rapin; a seventeenth century French essayist on Horace, Virgil, and Aris- totle ; now pretty much neglected ; p. 261, 1. 26. Recover tlie imputation; counteract the imputation; p. 110, 1. 22. Reformed subjects; Protestant subjects ; p. 60, 1. 25. Res'^vick; see Ryswick. Reversion; the right to succeed to some estate, moneys, or salaried of- fice after the expiration of the pres- ent possessor's rights or after his death. Such reversions were once much more common than they are now ; and much money was borrowed at exorbitant rates on the strength of them ; p. 301, 1. 13. ReviCTV, The; a journal issued every other day by Daniel Defoe ; p. 75, I. 17. Revolution, Tlie; see under Civil War. Rig'lit; thoroughly; p. 210, 1. 2. Ring'; see under London and "W^estminster. Roger, Sir; Sir Roger de Coverley; see under Clubs. Rolls; ancient records written on rolls of parchment ; p. 3^8, 1. 15. Rosamond's Bower; a bower where Henry II is said to have sheltered a favorite, Rosamond Clif- ford. In 1705j Addison made it the theme for an opera, which promptly failed. Part of his libretto is as follows : "Behold on yonder rising ground The bower that wanders, In meanders. Ever bending. Never ending, Glades on glades, Shades in shades, Running an eternal round." p. 216, 1. 9. Royal Society; in 1645, a group of studious gentlemen came together for the purpose of comparing their observations and opinions on such subjects as optics, medicine, anat- omy,- astronomy, etc. In 1660, the club or society they formed was meeting every Wednesday at three o'clock. Its entrance fees were ten shillings and its annual dues three. In the days of the Spectator its president was the mathematician and astronomer. Sir Isaac Neioton, who, according to his epitaph in West- minster Abbey, "by a vigor of mind almost stupendous, first demon- strated the motions and figures of the planets, the paths of the comets, and the tides of the ocean." The "fellows" or members, of this soci- ety, were of various sorts. Some were busy-idle country gentlemen who did little more than collect coins or record changes in the weather. Others were wise and learned inves- tigators. Still others were quaint and curious speculators. From the collections of its secretary origi- 354 GLOSSARY nated the present British Museum. From another of its members came the childish theory that fossils have been buried at different depths in the earth's surface by the force of Noah's flood. Today this Royal So- ciety is the most notable of all Brit- ish associations for the advance- ment of science; p. 53, 1. IS; see also Men of Sense. Ruler of the Winds; King ^o- lus, who at the command of the gods unlooses a storm that wrecks .lEne- as ; see Virgil's ^neid 1 :85 ; p. 269, 1. 11. Rules; see Introduction, Section 11; also see Unities. Rump; sixty men left in parliament after Colonel Pride, in 1648, drove all Presbyterians out of that body. It lasted till 1653, when Cromwell turned it out ; p. 99, 1. 21. Run; better, ran; p. 86, 1. 26. Rycaut, Sir Paul; see under Ma- lioniet. RysTFiek, Peace of; a treaty of peace in 1797, by which Louis XIV acknowledged the Protestants, Wil- liam and Mary, as the sovereigns of England, and consented to other se- rious losses to his prestige ; p. 57, 1. 15. Sack ; cheap white Spanish wine ; p. 81, 1. 8. Saint George; in old legends, a slayer of dragons ; adopted as the patron saint of England ; p. 127, 1. 14. St. James's; (a) a coffee house; p. 70, 1. 16; see Introduction, Sec- tion 13; (b) a region in Westmin- ster-; p. 69, 1. 8 ; see under Lon- don and Westminster. St. James's Park; see under London and W^estminster. Salisbury, Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of; a busy Protestant bishop, who tutored the princesses Mary and Anne, mixed in Church and State politics, and wrote gar- rulous memoirs ; p. 183, 1. 10. Schoolmen; those learned in logic, philosophy, and theology in the mid- dle ages. They were devoted to the art of drawing very fine distinctions and asking ingenious and puzzling questions in matters where human knowledge is impossible and often would be useless ; p. 297, 1. 1. Scotland ; in January, 1716, James Edward, son of James II, and there- fore claimant to the throne of Eng- land, made a public entry into Perth, Scotland, in pursuit of the English crown. Within a month he had fled the kingdom ; p. 100, 1. 27 ; see also Civil War. Sea-coals; coal as distinguished from charcoal ; p. 236, 1. 22. See him out; "It was Addison's practice, when he found any man invincibly wrong, to flatter his opin- ions by acquiescence and sink him yet deeper in absurdity," Dr. John- son; p. 100, 1. 3. Senecio; from the Latin word Senex, meaning old man; p. 115, 1. 22. Sense; see Men of Sense. Sentry, Captain; see under Clubs. Seven champions of Chris- tendom; the patron saints of seven different countries, each noted for his own miracle or marvel. B"or instance, we are told that St. Denis, of France, after being beheaded, walked off with his head under his arm ; p. 127, 1. 6. Severity of the lafv in an- cient times; under Cromwell, severe measures were used in exiling or suppressing those in favor of the Stuart kings ; p. 86, 1. 10. Se'CT-er; an open ditch or gutter; p. 240, 1. 7. Sheer Lane; see under London and Westminster. Shilling:; a silver piece worth about twenty-five cents, Four farthings GLOSSAEY 355 make a penny, twelve pence a shil- ling; p. 80, 1. 6. Shire; county; p. 102, 1. 25. Short face; a good-natured reflec- tion on the rotundity of Addison's face ; a common joke with Steele and Addison ; p. 323, 1. 28. Sliovel, Six* ClOTidesley; an English admiral who took part in the victory of La Hogue (1692) and was shipwrecked and drowned on the Scilly Isles in 1707; p. 318, 1. 8. Sibyl; in ancient superstitions, a woman gifted with prophecy and the power of placating the gods ; p. 159, 1. 8. Sidney, Sir Pliilip; noted in the court of Queen Elizabeth as a chiv- alric soldier and romantic poet ; p. 252, 1. 24. Sir Roger de Coverley's couiitry seat; those interested in Mr. Spectator's notes may under- stand most of them by reading the following papers: 1) 2, 2) 4, 3 and 4) 7, 5) 11, 6) 25, 7) 12, 8) 37, 9) 13, 10) 31, 11) 15, 12) 16, 13) 19, 14) 21, 15) 22, 16) 14, 17) 26, 18) 1, 8, 17, 21) 28, 22) 29, 23) 17, 32, 24) 33, 25) 35, 26) 36, 27) 41, 29) 30, 30) 22, 31) 14, 44) 23, 47 and 48) 46. The ingenious may be able to trace other of these notes. Some, however, are merely make-believe ; p. 180, 1. 16. Small liieex'; poor beer. "Like sour small beer, she could never have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is spoiled," Dr. Johnson; p. 193, 1. 11. Smallpox; a pest of which every- one lived in fear until vaccination was discovered in 1796 ; p. 143, 1. 9. Smithlield; see under London and Westminster. Socrates; an ancient Greek phi- losopher. He is said to have taught on the street and in the market place by asking his pupils or op- ponents shrewd and searching ques- . tions ; noted for his homeliness of behavior and whimsical expressions of humility ; p. 52, 1. 12. Sold out of tlie Bank; sold his stock in the Bank of E^ng'land (which see) ; p. 73, 1. 2. Something; somewhat; p. 87, 1. 27. Spanish monarchy; see under Louis XIV. Spectator, The; see Introduction, Sections 1, 24, 30, 34. Speculation; (a) theory; p. 129, 1. 3; (b) long sustained thought on a serious subject; p. 161, 1. 13; (c) any issue of the Tatler or Spectator ; p. 52, 1. 4. Spleen; nervous depression; p. 147, 1. 19. Splendid Shilling', The; this poem by John Philips (1676-1709) begins : Happy the man, who, void of cares and strife. In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling; he nor hears with pain New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; p. 84, 1, 11. Spoke; spoken; p. 113, 1. 16. Squir;- to throw with a jerk; p. 82, 1. 17. Squire; see Introduction, Sections 17 and 18. Stations; positions; p. 321, 1. 11. Statins; author of a long Latin epic about two unhappy brothers who fought for the possession of the Greek city of Thebes ; p. 254, 1. 14, Steal a kingdom; an allusion to Louis XlV's use of diplomacy as well as war in securing the Spanish throne for his grandson; p. 61, L 25; see Louis XIV. Steele; see Introduction, Sections 13, 20, 29-33. Steenkirk; a signal defeat of the English king, August 3, 1692, by the French army, though William 356 GLOSSARY had at first surprised and routed them. To commemorate the celerity with which the French generals had dressed themselves for battle the Parisian fops wore their cravats in apparent disorder and called them Steenkirks. The English fops soon imitated their example. The battle therefore had some social distinc- tion ; p. 232, 1. 22. Still; always; p. 109, 1. 11; p. 246, 1. 21, etc. Stool-ball; an outdoor game, some- thing like cricket, played chiefly by women ; p. 199, 1. 5. Streets; see Introduction, Section 2. Street signs; see Introduction, Section 2. Stuarts; see under Civil AVar; see also Introduction. Section 20. Subsisted; subsisting; p. 163, I. 28. Suit of ribbons; set of ribbons; p. 54, 1. 24. Suniumni bonuui; highest good; p. 180, 1 23. Supplement, Tlie; a journal pub- lished alternately with the Postboy ; p. 65, 1. 19. S'tvau; a bird fabled to sing beauti- fully while dyiug. The word is often applied to poets noted for grace and melod.v ; p. 197, 1. 6. S"\vetleu, King? Cbarles XII of; he cimducted brilliant but un- successful campaigns against Rus- sia (Muscovy) ; he ravageu what was then the independent kingdom of Poland and in 1704 deposed its sovereign. King Augustus II; from 1709 to 1713, he encamped in Ben- der, near the borders of Russia and Turkey. The Turks, who, for a time were allied with him against the Czar, Peter the Great, made a treaty of peace with Peter, and on Charles's refusal to break up camp, captured him in 1713. He was wounded in the heel in 1709: "As he was returning to his camp, he received a shot from a carbine, which pierced his boot and shattered the bone of his heel. There was not the least alteration observable in his countenance from which it could be suspected that he had received a wound. He continued to give orders Avith great composure, and after this accident remained al- most six hours on horseback. One of the domestics, observing that the sole of the king's boot was bloody, made haste to call the surgeons ; and the pain had now become bo severe that they were obliged to assist him in dismounting and to carry him to his tent. The surgeons examined the wound, and were of opinion that the leg must be cut off, which threw the army into the ut- most consternation. But one of the surgeons, named Newman, who had more skill and courage than the rest, affirmed that bj' making deep in- cisions he could save the king's leg. 'Fall to work then, presently,' said the king to him, 'cut boldly and fear nothing.' He himself held the leg with both his hands, and beheld the incisions that were made in it, as if the operation had been performed upon another person." Voltaire, translated by 0. W. Wight; p. 64, 1. 29. S^vift, Jonatban; see Introduc- tion, Sections 12, 19, 26. Tacitus ; an ancient Roman his- torian, who often compressed a great deal, not always flattering to hu- man nature, into a short compass ; p. 322, 1. 17. * Tacker; in 1704, one of 134 mem- bers of the House of Commons who tried to pass a Tory measure by tacking it to an appropriation bjU- They were overwhelmingly defeated ; p. 298, 1. 17. Taken out; taken as a partner in a dance ; p. 141, 1. 2. Tale of a. Tub; a biting satire against various divisions of Chris- tians, published arjonj'mously by the GLOSSAEY 357 Rev. Jouathan Swift, later Dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin; p. 119, 1. 26. Taste, 3IeTi of; see Introduction, Sections 8, 9, 10, 11 ; compare with Men of Sense. Taster of antiauity; the taste supposed to be shown by the Greeks and Romans for proper proportions in all matters of art, and self-con- trol in all matters of feeling. This, in Addison's eyes, was the truest and highest taste ; p. 318, 1. 21 ; see Introduction, Section 10. Tatler, The; see Introduction, Sec- tions 1, 13, 24, 30, 31, 34. Tax-gatlierer; in Oriental coun- tries, it has often been customary to sell the right to collect taxes to the highest bidder. He was entitled to collect all he could get ; p. 204, 1. 17. Tetlded grass; grass cut and spread out to dry; p. 240, 1. 11. Tenipe; a romantic valley near Mount Olympus in Greece ; p. 24G. Temperance; moderation; self- control ; never used in Addison's day to mean total abstinence ; p. 291, 1. 22. Templar; see Clubs; and Iniis of CowrUmder London andW-^est- minster. Temple; see Inns of Court under London and Westminster. Temple Bai*; see under London and Westminster. Temple, Sir William; a diplo- matist who retired from politics in Charles II 's reign and solaced his loneliness by writing pleasant es- says. "When all is done," he says, "human life is at the greatest and the best but like a froward child, that must be played with, and humored a little to keep it quiet till it falls asleep and then the care is over" ; p. 294, 1. 3. Terence; a Roman writer of comedies of the second century be- fore Christ. Six of his plays survive; p. 197, 1. 21. Tlieater, The; see Introduction, Sections 7-11. Third bottle; third pint of port wine at a sitting ; a common boast of hard drinkers in the eighteenth century; p. 190, 1. 6. Thousand arches; see Genesis V; p. 311, 1. 2. Thi-eescore and ten entire ai'ches; see Psalms XC:10; p. 310, 1. 27. Tig-er; see Tower under London and Westxninster. Tilt Yard Coffee House; see Introduction, Section 13. Titles; the value of a gold coin ex- pressed in carats ; hence the far- fetched pun on p. S3, 1. 18. In the same passage, Addison refers to those who stole what silver they could from a shilling and then passed it on. Toast; one honored by having toasts drunk to her honor ; in some circles, some one belle was made the toast for the season; p. 126, 1. 17. Topiary; the art of pruning trees into cones, pyramids, globes, or fan- tastic shapes of men and animals ; a taste much affected by the arti- ficial "lovers of nature" in the early eighteenth century along with a sentiment for classical and "goth- ic" summer houses and manufac- tured grottoes, lined with shells and •bits of looking glass. Tories; see Introduction, Sections 20, 21. Tout puissant; all powerful; p. 61, 1. 14. ToTver, The; see under London and W^estminstei*. Town, The; see under London and Westminstei*. Trade; commercial business; p. 191, 1. 9. Train bands; militia companies; p. 96, 1. 23. 358 GLOSSAEY Iransiuis'i-ation of souls; the belief held by various peoples, especially in India, that the soul or something very like it in every creature, instead of perishing at death,' reappears in a new body of a sort fitted to its deserts. Believers in transmigration naturally hold animals in superstitious and fantas- tic esteem. Pythagoras, a Greek philosopher, some five hundred years before Christ, is said to have taught this doctrine and to have persuaded his followers not to eat meat. It is not a Mahometan doctrine ; p. 201, 1. 4. Travel; see Introduction, Section 16. Trent; one of the principal rivers of central England ; the uprisings in favor of the Stuart pretenders were always to the north of it ; the south was a stronghold for parlia- mentary government and the rulers that were the choice of parliament ; p. 94, 1. 22. Triumpli; a solemn procession de- creed by the Roman Senate to a victorious general. He entered the city in a four-horse chariot, pre- ceded by his captives and spoils and followed by his troops; p. 321, 1. 3. Tmclving'; exchanging; swapping; p. 282, 1. 30. True-born Englislimau; a term by which the Whigs jeered at the narrow patriotism of those Tories who objected to the pro- gressive William III because he was foreign-born ; p. 67, 1. 2. Trumpet, The; an inn in Sheer Lane (which see under London and Westminster). Tulipomania; in Holland, in the seventeenth century, men gambled in tulips as men gamble in stocks. Even in Addison's day, though "the bubble had burst," tulips were bought and sold at absurdly high prices; p. 243, 1. 8. Tui'nus; see Virgril. TT*'ist; a mixed drink of some Sort, as gin-twist ; dish of twist ; a cup of twist; p. 192, I. 11. Unities, Tlie; the three dramatic unities of time, place, and acMon, or plot, designed to give plays an air of greater reality. "The largest compass for the first unity," says an old critic, "is twenty-four hours. But a lesser proportion is more reg- ular. To be exact, the whole busi- ness of the play should not be much longer than the time it takes up in playing. The second unity is that of place. To observe it, the scene must not wander from one town or coun- try to another. It must continue in the same house, street, or, at far thest, in the same city where it was first laid. . . . The third unity is that of action. ... To represent two considerable actions independent of each other destroys the beauty of subordination . . . and . . . splits the play." Much ridicule has been heaped on eighteenth century critics for laying so much stress on these three unities, and it is true that slavish adherence to them has led to long-winded descriptions and frigid declamations. But it is also true that many an author today has recognized their value and has profited by them in writing con- centrated plays of vivid scenes and rapid action; p. 261, 1. 13. Urn; in classical times, the ashes of the dead, after cremation, were placed in urns ; later, the word be- came a poetical term for the grave ; p. 197, 1. 1. Uses to be very cleai*; is ac- customed to be very clear ; p. 65, 1. 29. Vapors; see Introduction, Section 5. VendSme, Duke of; a famous French general under Louis XIV ; p. 241, 1. 4. GLOSSAEY 359 Vessels; veins, arteries, etc.; p. 162, 1. 2. Victor; see Introduction, Section 32. Villars, Marshal; a famous French general under Louis XIV ; p. 241, 1. 19. ^'irsril; a Roman poet of great cul- ture and refinement. He deliberately imitated earlier poets in his poems on shepherds {The Bucolics) and farming {The Georgics) , and fol- lowed the example of Homer in his JEneid. In this poem, the hero MnesiS, rendered homeless by the ruin of his native city, wanders fruitlessly many years until he reaches Italy. Here, eager to gain a wife and a kingdom, he incurs the hostility of the native princes and is forced into a bloody war (pp. 257-259). Among his enemies, the chief is the fierce Turnus : "By such a fury is he driven; from all his countenance The fiery flashes leap, the flames in his fierce eyeballs dance." Another foe is the maiden warrior Camilla, "Leading a mighty host of horse all blossoming with brass, The very winds might she outgo with hurrying maiden feet, Or speed across the topmost blades of tall unsmitten wheat, Nor ever hurt the tender ears below her as she ran." The most chivalric of 2Eneas's ene- mies is Lausus, who dies in rescu- ing his father from ^]neas's wrath : "Ah, whither rushest thou to die, and darest things o'er great" (Tr. by William Morris). For further comment on Virgil, see Introduction. Section 10. Visitant; visitor (now seldom used except to denote supernatural visi- tors) ; p. 149, I. 9. "Vitellius; a gluttonous Roman Em- peror, too sluggish to overwhelm his enemies ; they seized him, and, after the most insulting treatment, iiilled him; p. 62, 1. 25. Vulg-ar, Tlie; the uneducated; p. 326, 1. 3. AValsingliam, Sir Francis; a celebrated statesman who conducted the detective department of Queen Elizabeth's government ; p. 174, 1. 29. Want; lacli, need; p. 121, 1. 7. "War, The; see Introduction, Sec- tions 21, 25, 30. "V^'ax'Tt-ioli, Lady; see Introduc- tion, Section 25. "^Vatcli; a watchman or group of them ; p. 234, 1. 27 ; see Introduc- tion, Section 3. IVaters; the waters of some me- dicinal spring at a fashionable re- sort; p. 188, L 3. ■Weather-glass J thermometer; p. 214, 1. 28. ^\ estminster; Westminstei* Abbey; Westminster Hall; see under London and West- minster. Whig-s; see Introduction, Sections 20, 21. WidoTT "tvoman; described in the twelfth issue of the Spectator; p. 324, 1. 4. Wigs; through much of the seven- teenth century and most of the eighteenth, no gentleman was seen without Bis wig. On very informal occasions, he wore a ioiicig, in which the bottom locks were turned up into short curls. In full-iottomed icigs, the curls flowed over the shoulders ; in the Ramillie wig, the hair diminished from the shoulders into a long plaited curl, ending in a bow; in a campaign wig (p. 64, 1. 18), the hair was full and curled but not flowing; the term nightcap wig is a joke that explains Itself. Wigs were also called periwigs (p. 360 GLOSSAEY 126, 1. 1) and perukes (p. 14, 1. 21). William Riifus, or William the Red, king of England from 1087 till his death in 1100 in New B^'orest ; p. 235, 1. 18. ^Villiani's reign, King; 1689- 1702; p. 231, 1. 2. "William the Conqueror; a duke of Normandy who invaded Eng- land in 1066, seized the throne and divided the control of English terri- tory among his Norman followers. In this division he was bountiful to the Church, but apparently not bountiful enough to suit its more ardent adherents. His New Forest Avas a large territory which he maintained as a hunting preserve, after he had destroyed, so it is said, some of its villages and churches. Here two of his sons and one of his grandsons lost their lives, either by the accidents of the chase, or by assassination ; p. 169, 1. 28. "Will's; a coffee house; see Introduc- tion, Section 13. Winked npon; winked at; p. 89, 1. 8. Wit; see Introduction, Section 8. "Witch; an act was still in force in Addison's day decreeing death to whoever dealt with evil spirits or invoked them, whereby any persons were killed or lamed, etc. Under this law two women were executed in Northampton just before the Spectator began to be published. Not long after (1716), a Mrs. Hicks and her daughter were hanged at Huntingdon for selling their souls to the devil, making their neighbors vomit pins, and raising a storm so that a certain ship was almost lost. — Condensed from W. H. Wills ; p. 103, 1. 7. "Within onr selves; by keeping out importations through a high Tory tariff and discouraging the commerce the Whigs wished to en- courage ; p. 103, 1. 13. Woman of fashion; see Intro- duction, Section 5. "Wooden walls; a navy; p. 103, 1. 19. "Woolen mannfacture; so eager was the government to increase the use of woolen that it allowed no body to be buried till it wa wrapped in woolen ; p. 66, 1. 22. Writ; wrote; p. 145, 1. 7. Young-er sons; see Introduction, Section 15. Zephyrns; the mildest and gentlest of the breezes of the forest ; p. 238, 1. 16. 3if77-5 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: March 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16065 (724)779-2111