The De Coverley Papers
J >>
Joseph Addison and Others >> The De Coverley Papers
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7
[Illustration: She began a Discourse to me concerning Love and Honour]
"However, I must needs say this accomplished mistress of mine has
distinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir Roger
de Coverley was the tamest and most humane[89] of all the brutes in the
country. I was told she said so, by one who thought he rallied[90] me;
but upon the strength of this slender encouragement of being thought
least detestable, I made new liveries, new-paired my coach-horses, sent
them all to town to be bitted, and taught to throw their legs well, and
move all together, before I pretended[91] to cross the country, and wait
upon her. As soon as I thought my retinue suitable to the character of my
fortune and youth, I set out from hence to make my addresses. The
particular skill of this lady has ever been to inflame your wishes, and
yet command respect. To make her mistress of this art, she has a greater
share of knowledge, wit, and good sense, than is usual even among men of
merit. Then she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If you will not
let her go on with a certain artifice with her eyes, and the skill of
beauty, she will arm herself with her real charms, and strike you with
admiration instead of desire. It is certain that if you were to behold
the whole woman, there is that dignity in her aspect, that composure in
her motion, that complacency in her manner, that if her form makes you
hope, her merit makes you fear. But then again she is such a desperate
scholar, that no country gentleman can approach her without being a jest.
As I was going to tell you, when I came to her house I was admitted to
her presence with great civility; at the same time she placed herself to
be first seen by me in such an attitude, as I think you call the posture
of a picture, that she discovered[92] new charms, and I at last came
towards her with such an awe as made me speechless. This she no sooner
observed but she made her advantage of it, and began a discourse to me
concerning love and honour, as they both are followed by pretenders, and
the real votaries to them. When she discussed these points in a
discourse, which I verily believe was as learned as the best philosopher
in Europe could possibly make, she asked me whether she was so happy as
to fall in with my sentiments on these important particulars. Her
confidant sat by her, and upon my being in the last[93] confusion and
silence, this malicious _aide_ of hers turning to her says, 'I am very
glad to observe Sir Roger pauses upon this subject, and seems resolved to
deliver all his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases to speak.'
They both kept their countenances, and after I had sat half an hour
meditating how to behave before such profound casuists, I rose up and
took my leave. Chance has since that time thrown me very often in her
way, and she as often has directed a discourse to me which I do not
understand. This barbarity has kept me ever at a distance from the most
beautiful object my eyes ever beheld. It is thus also she deals with all
mankind, and you must make love to her, as you would conquer the sphinx,
by posing her[94]. But were she like other women, and that there were any
talking to her, how constant must the pleasure of that man be, who would
converse with a creature--But, after all, you may be sure her heart is
fixed on some one or other; and yet I have been credibly informed--but
who can believe half that is said? After she had done speaking to me, she
put her hand to her bosom and adjusted her tucker. Then she cast her eyes
a little down, upon my beholding her too earnestly. They say she sings
excellently: her voice in her ordinary speech has something in it
inexpressibly sweet. You must know I dined with her at a public table the
day after I first saw her, and she helped me to some tansy in the eye of
all the gentlemen in the country. She has certainly the finest hand of
any woman in the world. I can assure you, sir, were you to behold her,
you would be in the same condition; for as her speech is music, her form
is angelic. But I find I grow irregular[95] while I am talking of her;
but indeed it would be stupidity to be unconcerned at such perfection. Oh
the excellent creature! she is as inimitable to all women, as she is
inaccessible to all men."
I found my friend begin to rave, and insensibly[96] led him towards the
house, that we might be joined by some other company; and am convinced
that the widow is the secret cause of all that inconsistency which
appears in some parts of my friend's discourse, though he has so much
command of himself as not directly to mention her, yet according to that
of Martial[97], which one knows not how to render into English, _Dum
tacet hanc loquitur_. I shall end this paper with that whole epigram,
which represents with much humour my honest friend's condition.
_Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est, nisi Naevia Rufo,
Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur:
Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit, una est
Naevia; si non sit Naevia, mutus erit.
Scriberet hesterna patri cum luce salutem,
Naevia lux, inquit, Naevia numen, ave._
_Epig._ lxix. l. 1.
Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk,
Still he can nothing but of Naevia talk;
Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute,
Still he must speak of Naevia, or be mute.
He writ to his father, ending with this line,
I am, my lovely Naevia, ever thine.
R.
FOOTNOTES:
[86] _Settled._ An obscure expression. Possibly it means "bound up
with."
[87] _Rid._ Rode.
[88] _Dower._ Widow's portion of her husband's property.
[89] _Humane._ Civilised.
[90] _Rallied._ Bantered.
[91] _Pretended._ Presumed.
[92] _Discovered._ Displayed.
[93] _Last._ Utmost.
[94] _Conquer the sphinx, by posing her._ Reference to the story of
Oedipus, who answered the riddle of the Sphinx, whereupon she destroyed
herself. "Pose" her, _i.e._, with a problem she cannot solve.
[95] _Irregular._ Incoherent.
[96] _Insensibly._ Without his noticing it.
[97] _Martial._ Latin satirist: 41-104 A.D.
NO. 115. THURSDAY, JULY 12
_Ut sit mens sana in corpore sano._
JUV. _Sat._ x. ver. 356.
A healthy body and a mind at ease.
Bodily labour is of two kinds, either that which a man submits to for his
livelihood, or that which he undergoes for his pleasure. The latter of
them generally changes the name of labour for that of exercise, but
differs only from ordinary labour as it rises from another motive.
A country life abounds in both these kinds of labour, and for that reason
gives a man a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfect
enjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. I consider the body as
a system of tubes and glands, or to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of
pipes and strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner as
to make a proper engine for the soul to work with. This description does
not only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, nerves, and
arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, which is a composition of
fibres, that are so many imperceptible tubes or pipes interwoven on all
sides with invisible glands or strainers.
This general idea of a human body, without considering it in its niceties
of anatomy, lets us see how absolutely necessary labour is for the right
preservation of it. There must be frequent motions and agitations, to
mix, digest, and separate the juices contained in it, as well as to clear
and cleanse that infinitude of pipes and strainers of which it is
composed, and to give their solid parts a more firm and lasting tone.
Labour or exercise ferments the humours, casts them into their proper
channels, throws off redundancies, and helps nature in those secret
distributions, without which the body cannot subsist in its vigour, nor
the soul act with cheerfulness.
I might here mention the effects which this has upon all the faculties of
the mind, by keeping the understanding clear, the imagination untroubled,
and refining those spirits that are necessary for the proper exertion of
our intellectual faculties, during the present laws of union between soul
and body. It is to a neglect in this particular[98], that we must ascribe
the spleen[99], which is so frequent in men of studious and sedentary
tempers, as well as the vapours[99] to which those of the other sex are
so often subject.
Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our well-being, nature
would not have made the body so proper for it, by giving such an activity
to the limbs, and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily produce
these compressions, extensions, contortions, dilatations, and all other
kinds of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a system
of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. And that we might not
want inducements to engage us in such an exercise of the body as is
proper for its welfare, it is so ordered that nothing valuable can be
procured without it. Not to mention riches and honour, even food and
raiment are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and sweat of
the brows. Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we should
work them up ourselves. The earth must be laboured before it gives its
increase, and when it is forced into its several products, how many hands
must they pass through before they are fit for use? Manufactures, trade,
and agriculture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the species
in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labour, by the
condition[100] in which they are born, they are more miserable than the
rest of mankind, unless they indulge themselves in that voluntary labour
which goes by the name of exercise.
My friend Sir Roger has been an indefatigable man in business of this
kind, and has hung several parts of his house with the trophies of his
former labours. The walls of his great hall are covered with the horns of
several kinds of deer that he has killed in the chase, which he thinks
the most valuable furniture of his house, as they afford him frequent
topics of discourse, and show that he has not been idle. At the lower end
of the hall is a large otter's skin stuffed with hay, which his mother
ordered to be hung up in that manner, and the Knight looks upon it with
great satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine years old when his
dog killed him. A little room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenal
filled with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which the Knight
has made great havoc in the woods, and destroyed many thousands of
pheasants, partridges and woodcocks. His stable doors are patched[101]
with noses that belonged to foxes of the Knight's own hunting down. Sir
Roger showed me one of them, that for distinction sake has a brass nail
struck through it, which cost him about fifteen hours' riding, carried
him through half a dozen counties, killed him a brace of geldings, and
lost above half his dogs. This the Knight looks upon as one of the
greatest exploits of his life. The perverse widow, whom I have given some
account of, was the death of several foxes; for Sir Roger has told me
that in the course of his amours[102] he patched the western door of his
stable. Whenever the widow was cruel, the foxes were sure to pay for it.
In proportion as his passion for the widow abated and old age came on, he
left off fox-hunting; but a hare is not yet safe that sits within ten
miles of his house.
There is no kind of exercise which I would so recommend to my readers of
both sexes as this of riding, as there is none which so much conduces to
health, and is every way accommodated to the body, according to the
_idea_ which I have given of it. Doctor Sydenham is very lavish in its
praises; and if the English reader will see the mechanical effects of it
described at length, he may find them in a book published not many years
since, under the title of _Medicina Gymnastica_. For my own part, when I
am in town, for want of these opportunities, I exercise myself an hour
every morning upon a dumb bell that is placed in a corner of my room, and
pleases me the more because it does everything I require of it in the
most profound silence. My landlady and her daughters are so well
acquainted with my hours of exercise, that they never come into my room
to disturb me whilst I am ringing.
When I was some years younger than I am at present, I used to employ
myself in a more laborious diversion, which I learned from a Latin
treatise of exercises that is written with great erudition: it is there
called the [Greek: skiomachia], or the fighting with a man's own shadow,
and consists in the brandishing of two short sticks grasped in each hand,
and loaden with plugs of lead at either end. This opens the chest,
exercises the limbs, and gives a man all the pleasure of boxing, without
the blows. I could wish that several learned men would lay out that time
which they employ in controversies and disputes about nothing, in this
method of fighting with their own shadows. It might conduce very much to
evaporate the spleen, which makes them uneasy[103] to the public as well
as to themselves.
To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I consider myself as
obliged to a double scheme of duties; and think I have not fulfilled the
business of the day when I do not thus employ the one in labour and
exercise, as well as the other in study and contemplation.
L.
FOOTNOTES:
[98] _Particular._ Respect.
[99] _Spleen_, _vapours_. Attacks of depression or melancholy.
[100] _Condition._ Rank.
[101] _Patched._ Decorated.
[102] _Amours._ Courtship.
[103] _Uneasy._ Trying.
NO. 116. FRIDAY, JULY 13
_Vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron,
Taygetique canes._
VIRG. _Georg._ iii. ver. 43.
The echoing hills and chiding hounds invite.
Those who have searched into human nature observe that nothing so much
shows the nobleness of the soul as that its felicity consists in action.
Every man has such an active principle in him, that he will find out
something to employ himself upon, in whatever place or state of life he
is posted. I have heard of a gentleman who was under close confinement in
the Bastile seven years; during which time he amused himself in
scattering a few small pins about his chamber, gathering them up again,
and placing them in different figures on the arm of a great chair. He
often told his friends afterwards, that unless he had found out this
piece of exercise, he verily believed he should have lost his senses.
After what has been said, I need not inform my readers that Sir Roger,
with whose character I hope they are at present pretty well acquainted,
has in his youth gone through the whole course of those rural diversions
which the country abounds in; and which seem to be extremely well suited
to that laborious industry a man may observe here in a far greater degree
than in towns and cities. I have before hinted at some of my friend's
exploits: he has in his youthful days taken forty coveys of partridges
in a season; and tired many a salmon with a line consisting but of a
single hair. The constant thanks and good wishes of the neighbourhood
always attended him, on account of his remarkable enmity towards foxes;
having destroyed more of those vermin in one year, than it was thought
the whole country could have produced. Indeed the Knight does not scruple
to own among his most intimate friends, that in order to establish his
reputation this way, he has secretly sent for great numbers of them out
of other counties, which he used to turn loose about the country by
night, that he might the better signalise himself in their destruction
the next day. His hunting horses were the finest and best managed[104] in
all these parts: his tenants are still full of the praises of a grey
stone-horse[105] that unhappily staked[106] himself several years since,
and was buried with great solemnity in the orchard.
Sir Roger, being at present too old for fox-hunting, to keep himself in
action, has disposed of his beagles and got a pack of stop-hounds[107].
What these want in speed, he endeavours to make amends for by the
deepness of their mouths[108] and the variety of their notes, which are
suited in such manner to each other, that the whole cry[109] makes up a
complete concert. He is so nice[110] in this particular, that a
gentleman having made him a present of a very fine hound the other day,
the Knight returned it by the servant with a great many expressions of
civility; but desired him to tell his master, that the dog he had sent
was indeed a most excellent bass, but that at present he only wanted a
counter-tenor[111]. Could I believe my friend had ever read Shakespeare,
I should certainly conclude he had taken the hint from Theseus in the
_Midsummer Night's Dream_.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flu'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew.
Crook-knee'd and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls,
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouths like bells,
Each under each: a cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn.
Sir Roger is so keen at this sport, that he has been out almost every day
since I came down; and upon the chaplain's offering to lend me his easy
pad, I was prevailed on yesterday morning to make one of the company. I
was extremely pleased, as we rid along, to observe the general
benevolence[112] of all the neighbourhood towards my friend. The farmer's
sons thought themselves happy if they could open a gate for the good old
Knight as he passed by; which he generally requited with a nod or a
smile, and a kind inquiry after their fathers and uncles.
After we had rid about a mile from home, we came upon a large heath, and
the sportsmen began to beat. They had done so for some time, when as I
was at a little distance from the rest of the company, I saw a hare pop
out from a small furze-brake almost under my horse's feet. I marked the
way she took, which I endeavoured to make the company sensible of by
extending my arm; but to no purpose, until Sir Roger, who knows that none
of my extraordinary motions are insignificant, rode up to me, and asked
me if puss was gone that way? Upon my answering "Yes," he immediately
called in the dogs, and put them upon the scent. As they were going off,
I heard one of the country fellows muttering to his companion, "That it
was a wonder they had not lost all their sport, for want of the silent
gentleman's crying 'Stole away[113].'"
This, with my aversion to leaping hedges, made me withdraw to a rising
ground, from whence I could have the pleasure of the whole chase, without
the fatigue of keeping in with the hounds. The hare immediately threw
them above a mile behind her; but I was pleased to find, that instead of
running straight forwards, or, in hunter's language, flying the country,
as I was afraid she might have done, she wheeled about, and described a
sort of circle round the hill where I had taken my station, in such
manner as gave me a very distinct view of the sport. I could see her
first pass by, and the dogs some time afterwards unravelling the whole
track she had made, and following her through all her doubles. I was at
the same time delighted in observing that deference which the rest of
the pack paid to each particular hound, according to the character he had
acquired amongst them: if they were at a fault, and an old hound of
reputation opened but once, he was immediately followed by the whole cry;
while a raw dog, or one who was a noted liar, might have yelped his heart
out without being taken notice of.
The hare now, after having squatted two or three times, and been put up
again as often, came still nearer to the place where she was at first
started. The dogs pursued her, and these were followed by the jolly
Knight, who rode upon a white gelding, encompassed by his tenants and
servants, and cheering his hounds with all the gaiety of five and twenty.
One of the sportsmen rode up to me, and told me that he was sure the
chase was almost at an end, because the old dogs, which had hitherto lain
behind, now headed the pack. The fellow was in the right. Our hare took a
large field just under us, followed by the full cry in view. I must
confess the brightness of the weather, the cheerfulness of everything
around me, the chiding of the hounds, which was returned upon us in a
double echo from two neighbouring hills, with the hallooing of the
sportsmen and the sounding of the horn, lifted my spirits into a most
lively pleasure, which I freely indulged because I knew it was innocent.
If I was under any concern, it was on the account of the poor hare, that
was now quite spent and almost within the reach of her enemies; when the
huntsman, getting forward, threw down his pole[114] before the dogs.
They were now within eight yards of that game which they had been
pursuing for almost as many hours; yet on the signal before mentioned
they all made a sudden stand, and though they continued opening as much
as before, durst not once attempt to pass beyond the pole. At the same
time Sir Roger rode forward, and alighting, took up the hare in his arms;
which he soon delivered to one of his servants, with an order, if she
could be kept alive, to let her go in his great orchard; where it seems
he has several of these prisoners of war, who live together in a very
comfortable captivity. I was highly pleased to see the discipline of the
pack, and the good nature of the Knight, who could not find in his heart
to murder a creature that had given him so much diversion.
[Illustration: Chearing his Hounds with all the Gaiety of Five and
Twenty]
As we were returning home, I remembered that Monsieur Paschal[115] in his
most excellent discourse on "the misery of man," tells us, that "all our
endeavours after greatness proceed from nothing but a desire of being
surrounded by a multitude of persons and affairs that may hinder us from
looking into ourselves, which is a view we cannot bear." He afterwards
goes on to show that our love of sports comes from the same reason, and
is particularly severe upon hunting. "What," says he, "unless it be to
drown thought, can make men throw away so much time and pains upon a
silly animal, which they might buy cheaper in the market?" The foregoing
reflection is certainly just, when a man suffers his whole mind to be
drawn into his sports, and altogether loses himself in the woods; but
does not affect those who propose a far more laudable end for this
exercise; I mean, the preservation of health, and keeping all the organs
of the soul in a condition to execute her orders. Had that incomparable
person, whom I last quoted, been a little more indulgent to himself in
this point, the world might probably have enjoyed him much longer:
whereas, through too great an application to his studies in his youth, he
contracted that ill habit[116] of body, which, after a tedious sickness,
carried him off in the fortieth year of his age; and the whole history we
have of his life till that time, is but one continued account of the
behaviour of a noble soul struggling under innumerable pains and
distempers.
For my own part, I intend to hunt twice a week during my stay with Sir
Roger; and shall prescribe the moderate use of this exercise to all my
country friends, as the best kind of physic for mending a bad
constitution, and preserving a good one.
I cannot do this better, than in the following lines out of Mr. Dryden:--
The first physicians by debauch were made;
Excess began, and sloth sustains the trade.
By chase our long-liv'd fathers earn'd their food;
Toil strung the nerves, and purifi'd the blood;
But we their sons, a pamper'd race of men,
Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten.
Better to hunt in fields for health unbought,
Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.
The wise for cure on exercise depend;
God never made his work for man to mend.
X.
FOOTNOTES:
[104] _Managed._ Trained.
[105] _Stone-horse._ Stallion.
[106] _Staked._ Impaled.
[107] _Stop-hounds._ Hounds trained to go slowly and stop at a signal
from the huntsman.
[108] _Mouths._ Cry.
[109] _Cry._ Pack.
[110] _Nice._ Precise, fastidious.
[111] _Counter-tenor._ Alto.
[112] _Benevolence._ Good-will.
[113] _Stole away._ The correct hunting cry which the Spectator should
have given.
[114] _Pole._ A leaping-pole carried by the huntsman, who was on foot,
and thrown by him as a signal to the hounds to stop.
[115] _Monsieur Paschal._ French philosopher: 1622-62.
[116] _Habit._ Constitution.
NO. 117. SATURDAY, JULY 14
_Ipsi sibi somnia fingunt._
VIRG. _Ecl._ viii. ver. 108.
Their own imaginations they deceive.
There are some opinions in which a man should stand neuter[117], without
engaging[118] his assent to one side or the other. Such a hovering faith
as this, which refuses to settle upon any determination[119], is
absolutely necessary in a mind that is careful to avoid errors and
prepossessions. When the arguments press equally on both sides in matters
that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to
neither.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7