The De Coverley Papers
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Joseph Addison and Others >> The De Coverley Papers
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As we were riding away, Sir Roger told me, that he knew several sensible
people who believed these gipsies now and then foretold very strange
things; and for half an hour together appeared more jocund than ordinary.
In the height of his good-humour, meeting a common beggar upon the road
who was no conjurer, as he went to relieve him he found his pocket was
picked; that being a kind of palmistry at which this race of vermin are
very dexterous.
I might here entertain my reader with historical remarks on this idle
profligate people, who infest all the countries of Europe, and live in
the midst of governments in a kind of commonwealth by themselves. But
instead of entering into observations of this nature, I shall fill the
remaining part of my paper with a story which is still fresh in Holland,
and was printed in one of our monthly accounts about twenty years ago.
"As the _trekschuyt_, or hackney-boat, which carries passengers from
Leyden to Amsterdam, was putting off, a boy running along the side of the
canal desired to be taken in; which the master of the boat refused,
because the lad had not quite money enough to pay the usual fare. An
eminent merchant being pleased with the looks of the boy, and secretly
touched with compassion towards him, paid the money for him, and ordered
him to be taken on board. Upon talking with him afterwards, he found that
he could speak readily in three or four languages, and learned upon
further examination that he had been stolen away when he was a child by a
gipsy, and had rambled ever since with a gang of those strollers[142] up
and down several parts of Europe. It happened that the merchant, whose
heart seems to have inclined towards the boy by a secret kind of
instinct, had himself lost a child some years before. The parents, after
a long search for him, gave him for drowned in one of the canals with
which that country abounds; and the mother was so afflicted at the loss
of a fine boy, who was her only son, that she died for grief of it. Upon
laying together all particulars, and examining the several moles and
marks by which the mother used to describe the child when he was first
missing, the boy proved to be the son of the merchant whose heart had so
unaccountably melted at the sight of him. The lad was very well pleased
to find a father who was so rich, and likely to leave him a good estate;
the father on the other hand was not a little delighted to see a son
return to him, whom he had given for lost, with such a strength of
constitution, sharpness of understanding, and skill in languages." Here
the printed story leaves off; but if I may give credit to reports, our
linguist having received such extraordinary rudiments towards a good
education, was afterwards trained up in everything that becomes a
gentleman; wearing off by little and little all the vicious habits and
practices that he had been used to in the course of his peregrinations:
nay, it is said, that he has since been employed in foreign courts upon
national business, with great reputation to himself and honour to those
who sent him, and that he has visited several countries as a public
minister, in which he formerly wandered as a gipsy.
C.
FOOTNOTES:
[139] _Exert._ Exert the power of.
[140] _Cassandra._ Reference to the mad prophetess of that name in the
story of Troy.
[141] _In a corner._ In secret.
[142] _Strollers._ Vagabonds.
NO. 131. TUESDAY, JULY 31
_Ipsae rursum concedite sylvae._
VIRG. _Ecl._ x. ver. 63.
Once more, ye woods, adieu.
It is usual for a man who loves country sports to preserve the game on
his own grounds, and divert himself upon those that belong to his
neighbour. My friend Sir Roger generally goes two or three miles from his
house, and gets into the frontiers of his estate, before he beats about
in search of a hare or partridge, on purpose to spare his own fields,
where he is always sure of finding diversion, when the worst comes to the
worst. By this means the breed about his house has time to increase and
multiply, beside that the sport is the more agreeable where the game is
the harder to come at, and where it does not lie so thick as to produce
any perplexity or confusion in the pursuit. For these reasons the country
gentleman, like the fox, seldom preys near his own home.
In the same manner I have made a month's excursion out of the town, which
is the great field of game for sportsmen of my species, to try my fortune
in the country, where I have started several subjects, and hunted them
down, with some pleasure to myself, and I hope to others. I am here
forced to use a great deal of diligence before I can spring[143] anything
to my mind, whereas in town, whilst I am following one character, it is
ten to one but I am crossed in my way by another, and put up such a
variety of odd creatures in both sexes, that they foil the scent of one
another, and puzzle the chase. My greatest difficulty in the country is
to find sport, and in town to choose it. In the meantime, as I have given
a whole month's rest to the cities of London and Westminster, I promise
myself abundance of new game upon my return thither.
It is indeed high time for me to leave the country, since I find the
whole neighbourhood begin to grow very inquisitive after my name and
character: my love of solitude, taciturnity, and particular[144] way of
life, having raised a great curiosity in all these parts.
The notions which have been framed of me are various: some look upon me
as very proud, some as very modest, and some as very melancholy. Will
Wimble, as my friend the butler tells me, observing me very much alone,
and extremely silent when I am in company, is afraid I have killed a man.
The country people seem to suspect me for a conjurer; and some of them,
hearing of the visit which I made to Moll White, will needs have it that
Sir Roger has brought down a cunning man with him, to cure the old woman,
and free the country from her charms. So that the character which I go
under in part of the neighbourhood, is what they here call a "white
witch[145]."
A justice of peace, who lives about five miles off, and is not of Sir
Roger's party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his table, that he
wishes Sir Roger does not harbour a Jesuit in his house, and that he
thinks the gentlemen of the country would do very well to make me give
some account of myself.
On the other side, some of Sir Roger's friends are afraid the old Knight
is imposed upon by a designing fellow, and as they have heard that he
converses very promiscuously[146] when he is in town, do not know but he
has brought down with him some discarded[147] Whig, that is sullen, and
says nothing because he is out of place.
Such is the variety of opinions which are here entertained of me, so that
I pass among some for a disaffected person, and among others for a Popish
priest; among some for a wizard, and among others for a murderer; and all
this for no other reason, that I can imagine, but because I do not hoot
and hollow, and make a noise. It is true my friend Sir Roger tells them,
_That it is my way_, and that I am only a philosopher; but this will not
satisfy them. They think there is more in me than he discovers[148], and
that I do not hold my tongue for nothing.
For these and other reasons I shall set out for London to-morrow, having
found by experience that the country is not a place for a person of my
temper, who does not love jollity, and what they call good
neighbourhood[149]. A man that is out of humour when an unexpected guest
breaks in upon him, and does not care for sacrificing an afternoon to
every chance-comer; that will be the master of his own time, and the
pursuer of his own inclinations, makes but a very unsociable figure in
this kind of life. I shall therefore retire into the town, if I may make
use of that phrase, and get into the crowd again as fast as I can, in
order to be alone. I can there raise what speculations I please upon
others, without being observed myself, and at the same time enjoy all the
advantages of company with all the privileges of solitude. In the
meanwhile, to finish the month, and conclude these my rural speculations,
I shall here insert a letter from my friend Will Honeycomb, who has not
lived a month for these forty years out of the smoke of London, and
rallies me after his way upon my country life.
DEAR SPEC,
I suppose this letter will find thee[150] picking of daisies, or
smelling to a lock of hay, or passing away thy time in some
innocent country diversion of the like nature. I have however
orders from the club to summon thee up to town, being all of us
cursedly afraid thou wilt not be able to relish our company, after
thy conversations with Moll White and Will Wimble. Prithee do not
send us up any more stories of a cock and a bull, nor frighten the
town with spirits and witches. Thy speculations begin to smell
confoundedly of woods and meadows. If thou dost not come up
quickly, we shall conclude that thou art in love with one of Sir
Roger's dairymaids. Service to the Knight. Sir Andrew is grown the
cock of the club since he left us, and if he does not return
quickly will make every mother's son of us commonwealth's men[151].
Dear Spec,
Thine eternally,
WILL HONEYCOMB.
C.
FOOTNOTES:
[143] _Spring._ Start from its hiding-place.
[144] _Particular._ Peculiar.
[145] _White witch._ One who uses supernatural powers, but only for good
purposes.
[146] _Converses very promiscuously._ Mixes with all sorts of people.
[147] _Discarded._ Out of office.
[148] _Discovers._ Reveals.
[149] _Neighbourhood._ Sociability.
[150] _Thee._ The now obsolete familiar use of _thou_ and _thee_.
[151] _Commonwealth's men._ Republicans.
NO. 269. TUESDAY, JANUARY 8
_Aevo rarissima nostro
Simplicitas._
OVID, _Ars Am._ lib. i. ver. 241.
Most rare is now our old simplicity.
DRYDEN.
I was this morning surprised with a great knocking at the door, when my
landlady's daughter came up to me, and told me that there was a man below
desired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me it
was a very grave elderly person, but that she did not know his name. I
immediately went down to him, and found him to be the coachman of my
worthy friend Sir Roger de Coverley. He told me, that his master came to
town last night, and would be glad to take a turn[152] with me in Gray's
Inn walks. As I was wondering in myself what had brought Sir Roger to
town, not having lately received any letter from him, he told me that his
master was come up to get a sight of Prince Eugene[153], and that he
desired I would immediately meet him.
I was not a little pleased with the curiosity of the old Knight, though I
did not much wonder at it, having heard him say more than once in private
discourse, that he looked upon Prince Eugenio (for so the Knight always
calls him) to be a greater man than Scanderbeg[154].
I was no sooner come into Gray's Inn walks, but I heard my friend upon
the terrace hemming[155] twice or thrice to himself with great vigour,
for he loves to clear his pipes in good air (to make use of his own
phrase), and is not a little pleased with any one who takes notice of the
strength which he still exerts in his morning hems.
I was touched with a secret joy at the sight of the good old man, who
before he saw me was engaged in conversation with a beggar man that had
asked an alms of him. I could hear my friend chide him for not finding
out some work; but at the same time saw him put his hand in his pocket
and give him sixpence.
Our salutations were very hearty on both sides, consisting of many kind
shakes of the hand, and several affectionate looks which we cast upon one
another. After which the Knight told me my good friend his chaplain was
very well, and much at my service, and that the Sunday before he had made
a most incomparable sermon out of Dr. Barrow. "I have left," says he,
"all my affairs in his hands, and being willing to lay an obligation upon
him, have deposited with him thirty merks[156], to be distributed among
his poor parishioners."
He then proceeded to acquaint me with the welfare of Will Wimble. Upon
which he put his hand into his fob[157], and presented me in his name
with a tobacco-stopper, telling me that Will had been busy all the
beginning of the winter in turning great quantities of them; and that he
made a present of one to every gentleman in the country who has good
principles, and smokes. He added, that poor Will was at present under
great tribulation, for that Tom Touchy had taken the law of him for
cutting some hazel-sticks out of one of his hedges.
Among other pieces of news which the Knight brought from his country
seat, he informed me that Moll White was dead; and that about a month
after her death the wind was so very high, that it blew down the end of
one of his barns. "But for my own part," says Sir Roger, "I do not think
that the old woman had any hand in it."
He afterwards fell into an account of the diversions which had passed in
his house during the holidays; for Sir Roger, after the laudable custom
of his ancestors, always keeps open house at Christmas. I learned from
him that he had killed eight fat hogs for this season, that he had dealt
about his chines very liberally amongst his neighbours, and that in
particular he had sent a string of hogs-puddings with a pack of cards to
every poor family in the parish. "I have often thought," says Sir Roger,
"it happens very well that Christmas should fall out in the middle of
winter. It is the most dead uncomfortable time of the year, when the
poor people would suffer very much from their poverty and cold, if they
had not good cheer, warm fires, and Christmas gambols to support them. I
love to rejoice their poor hearts at this season, and to see the whole
village merry in my great hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to my
small beer, and set it a running for twelve days to every one that calls
for it. I have always a piece of cold beef and a mince-pie upon the
table, and am wonderfully pleased to see my tenants pass away a whole
evening in playing their innocent tricks, and smutting one another[158].
Our friend Will Wimble is as merry as any of them, and shows a thousand
roguish tricks upon these occasions."
I was very much delighted with the reflection of my old friend, which
carried so much goodness in it. He then launched out into the praise of
the late Act of Parliament[159] for securing the Church of England, and
told me, with great satisfaction, that he believed it already began to
take effect, for that a rigid dissenter who chanced to dine at his house
on Christmas Day, had been observed to eat very plentifully of his
plum-porridge[160].
After having dispatched all our country matters, Sir Roger made several
inquiries concerning the club, and particularly of his old antagonist Sir
Andrew Freeport. He asked me with a kind of a smile, whether Sir Andrew
had not taken the advantage of his absence, to vent among them some of
his republican doctrines; but soon after gathering up his countenance
into a more than ordinary seriousness, "Tell me truly," says he, "do not
you think Sir Andrew had a hand in the Pope's procession[161]?"--but
without giving me time to answer him, "Well, well," says he, "I know you
are a wary man, and do not care to talk of public matters."
The Knight then asked me if I had seen Prince Eugenio, and made me
promise to get him a stand in some convenient place, where he might have
a full sight of that extraordinary man, whose presence does so much
honour to the British nation. He dwelt very long on the praises of this
great general, and I found that, since I was with him in the country, he
had drawn many just observations together out of his reading in Baker's
_Chronicle_[162], and other authors, who always lie in his hall window,
which very much redound to the honour of this prince.
Having passed away the greatest part of the morning in hearing the
Knight's reflections, which were partly private, and partly political, he
asked me if I would smoke a pipe with him over a dish of coffee at
Squire's. As I love the old man, I take delight in complying with
everything that is agreeable to him, and accordingly waited on[163] him
to the coffee-house, where his venerable figure drew upon us the eyes of
the whole room. He had no sooner seated himself at the upper end of the
high table, but he called for a clean pipe, a paper of tobacco, a dish of
coffee, a wax-candle, and the _Supplement_, with such an air of
cheerfulness and good humour, that all the boys[164] in the coffee-room
(who seemed to take pleasure in serving him) were at once employed on his
several errands, insomuch that nobody else could come at a dish of tea,
until the Knight had got all his conveniences about him.
L.
FOOTNOTES:
[152] _Turn._ Stroll.
[153] _Prince Eugene._ Prince of Savoy (1663-1736), who aided
Marlborough at Blenheim and elsewhere, and was at this time on a visit
to London.
[154] _Scanderbeg._ George Castriota, a famous Albanian leader against
the Turks (1403-68).
[155] _Hemming._ Clearing his throat.
[156] _Merks._ A merk is 13s. 4d., but only as a measure of value, not
an actual coin. Compare our present use of a guinea.
[157] _Fob._ Small pocket.
[158] _Smutting one another._ Blacking one another's faces in sport.
[159] _Act of Parliament._ Act of Occasional Uniformity, 1710.
[160] _Rigid dissenter ... plum porridge._ Many Puritans refused to
observe Christmas Day, regarding it as smacking of Popery.
[161] _Pope's procession._ An annual Whig demonstration.
[162] _Baker's Chronicle._ _Chronicle of the Kings of England_ (1643),
by Sir Richard Baker.
[163] _Waited on._ Accompanied.
[164] _Boys._ Waiters.
NO. 329. TUESDAY, MARCH 18
_Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit, et Ancus._
HOR. _Ep._ vi. l. i. ver. 27.
With Ancus, and with Numa, kings of Rome,
We must descend into the silent tomb.
My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me the other night, that he had been
reading my paper upon Westminster Abbey, "in which," says he, "there are
a great many ingenious fancies." He told me at the same time, that he
observed I had promised another paper upon the Tombs, and that he should
be glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he had
read history. I could not at first imagine how this came into the
Knight's head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all last
summer upon Baker's _Chronicle_, which he has quoted several times in his
disputes with Sir Andrew Freeport since his last coming to town.
Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next morning, that we might
go together to the Abbey.
I found the Knight under his butler's hands, who always shaves him. He
was no sooner dressed than he called for a glass of the widow Trueby's
water, which they told me he always drank before he went abroad. He
recommended to me a dram of it at the same time, with so much heartiness,
that I could not forbear drinking it. As soon as I had got it down, I
found it very unpalatable, upon which the Knight observing that I had
made several wry faces, told me that he knew I should not like it at
first, but that it was the best thing in the world against the stone or
gravel.
I could have wished indeed that he had acquainted me with the virtues of
it sooner; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had done
was out of goodwill. Sir Roger told me further, that he looked upon it to
be very good for a man whilst he stayed in town, to keep off infection,
and that he got together a quantity of it upon the first news of the
sickness being at Dantzick: when of a sudden, turning short to one of his
servants who stood behind him, he bid him call a hackney-coach, and take
care it was an elderly man that drove it.
He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's water, telling me that
the widow Trueby was one who did more good than all the doctors or
apothecaries in the country: that she distilled every poppy that grew
within five miles of her; that she distributed her water gratis among all
sorts of people; to which the Knight added, that she had a very great
jointure[165], and that the whole country would fain have it a match
between him and her; "and truly," says Sir Roger, "if I had not been
engaged[166], perhaps I could not have done better."
His discourse was broken off by his man's telling him he had called a
coach. Upon our going to it, after having cast his eye upon the wheels,
he asked the coachman if his axle-tree was good; upon the fellow's
telling him he would warrant it, the Knight turned to me, told me he
looked like an honest man, and went in without further ceremony.
We had not gone far, when Sir Roger, popping out his head, called the
coachman down from his box, and, upon presenting himself at the window,
asked him if he smoked; as I was considering what this would end in, he
bid him stop by the way at any good tobacconist's and take in a roll of
their best Virginia. Nothing material happened in the remaining part of
our journey, till we were set down at the west end of the Abbey.
As we went up the body of the church, the Knight pointed at the trophies
upon one of the new monuments, and cried out, "A brave man, I warrant
him!" Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudesley Shovel[167], he flung his
hand that way, and cried, "Sir Cloudesley Shovel! a very gallant man!" As
he stood before Busby's tomb, the Knight uttered himself again after the
same manner, "Dr. Busby[168], a great man! he whipped my grandfather; a
very great man! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a
blockhead; a very great man!"
We were immediately conducted to the little chapel on the right hand. Sir
Roger, planting himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive to
everything he said, particularly to the account he gave us of the lord
who had cut off the King of Morocco's head. Among several other figures,
he was very well pleased to see the statesman Cecil[169] upon his knees;
and concluding them all to be great men, was conducted to the figure
which represents that martyr to good housewifery, who died by the prick
of a needle. Upon our interpreter's telling us that she was a maid of
honour to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitive into her name
and family; and after having regarded her finger for some time, "I
wonder," says he, "that Sir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his
_Chronicle_."
We were then conveyed to the two coronation chairs, where my old friend
after having heard that the stone underneath the most ancient of them,
which was brought from Scotland, was called "Jacob's pillar," sat himself
down in the chair; and looking like the figure of an old Gothic king,
asked our interpreter, what authority they had to say that Jacob had ever
been in Scotland? The fellow, instead of returning him an answer, told
him, that he hoped his honour would pay his forfeit[170]. I could observe
Sir Roger a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but our guide not
insisting upon his demand, the Knight soon recovered his good humour, and
whispered in my ear, that if Will Wimble were with us, and saw those two
chairs, it would go hard but he would get a tobacco-stopper out of one or
the other of them.
Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon Edward the Third's
sword, and leaning upon the pommel[171] of it, gave us the whole history
of the Black Prince; concluding, that, in Sir Richard Baker's opinion,
Edward the Third was one of the greatest princes that ever sat upon the
English throne.
We were then shown Edward the Confessor's tomb; upon which Sir Roger
acquainted us, that he was the first who touched for the evil[172]; and
afterwards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his head, and told us
there was fine reading in the casualties[173] of that reign.
Our conductor then pointed to that monument where there is the figure of
one of our English kings without an head; and upon giving us to know,
that the head, which was of beaten silver, had been stolen away several
years since: "Some Whig, I'll warrant you," says Sir Roger; "you ought to
lock up your kings better; they will carry off the body too, if you don't
take care."
The glorious names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabeth gave the Knight
great opportunities of shining, and of doing justice to Sir Richard
Baker; who, as our Knight observed with some surprise, had a great many
kings in him, whose monuments he had not seen in the Abbey.
For my own part, I could not but be pleased to see the Knight show such
an honest passion for the glory of his country, and such a respectful
gratitude to the memory of its princes.
I must not omit, that the benevolence of my good old friend, which flows
out towards every one he converses with, made him very kind to our
interpreter, whom he looked upon as an extraordinary man; for which
reason he shook him by the hand at parting, telling him, that he should
be very glad to see him at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talk
over these matters with him more at leisure.
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