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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 5 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,

rant you, with such a deep attention to her business, took opportunities to have little billets handed to her counsel, then would be in such a pretty confusion, occasioned, you must know, by acting before so much company, that not only I but the whole court was prejudiced in her favor; and all that the next heir to her husband had to urge was thought so groundless and frivolous, that when 10 she is such a desperate scholar that no it came to her counsel to reply, there was not half so much said as every one besides in the court thought he could have urged to her advantage. You must understand, sir, this perverse 15 woman is one of those unaccountable creatures that secretly rejoice in the admiration of men, but indulge themselves in no farther consequences. Hence it is that she has ever had a train 20 of admirers, and she removes from her slaves in town to those in the country, according to the seasons of the year. She is a reading lady, and far gone in the pleasures of friendship. She is al- 25 ways accompanied by a confidante, who is witness to her daily protestations against our sex, and consequently a bar to her first steps towards love, upon the strength of her own maxims and declarations.


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 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 honor, 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 confidante sat by her, and on my being in the last confusion and silence, this malicious aid of hers turning to her, says, "I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses upon this subject, and seems resolved to deliver all his sentiments 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 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. But were she like other women, and that there were any talking to her, how constant must the pleasure

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 35 Coverley was the tamest and most humane of all the brutes in the country. I was told she said so by one who thought he rallied me; and upon the strength of this slender encouragement of being thought 40 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 to cross the 45 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. 55 of that man be, who could converse with

Then she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If you will not let her go on with a certain artifice with her eyes,


a creature - But, after all, you may be sure her heart is fixed on some one or other and yet I have been credibly in

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formed - but who can believe half that
is said! 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 coun-
try. 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 while I am
talking of her; but indeed it would be 15
stupidity to be unconcerned at such per-
fection. Oh, the excellent creature! she
is as inimitable to all women, as she is
inaccessible to all men.'

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next four-and-twenty hours, till the many different objects I must needs meet with should tire my imagination, and give me an inclination to a repose more 5 profound than I was at that time capable of. I beg people's pardon for an odd humor I am guilty of, and was often that day, which is saluting any person whom I like, whether I know him or not. This is a particularity would be tolerated in me, if they considered that the greatest pleasure I know I receive at my eyes, and that I am obliged to an agreeable person for coming abroad into my view. as another is for a visit of conversation at their own houses.

The hours of the day and night are taken up in the cities of London and Westminster by people as different from

different centuries. Men of six o'clock give way to those of nine, they of nine to the generation of twelve; and they of twelve disappear, and make room for the fashionable world, who have made two o'clock the noon of the day.

I found my friend begin to rave, and 20 each other as those who are born in insensibly led him towards the house, that we might be joined by some other company; and am convinced that the widow is the secret cause of all that inconsistency which appears in some parts 25 of my friend's discourse; though he has so much command of himself as not directly to mention her, yet according to that of Martial, which one knows not how to render into English, dum tacet hanc 30 loquitur [even when silent he talks of her].

[No. 454.]

Tuesday, July 10, 1711.



When we first put off from shore, we soon fell in with a fleet of gardeners, bound for the several market ports of London; and it was the most pleasing scene imaginable to see the cheerfulness with which those industrious people plied their way to a certain sale of their goods. The banks on each side are as well peo35 pled, and beautified with as agreeable plantations, as any spot on the earth; but the Thames itself, loaded with the product of each shore, added very much to the landscape. It was very easy to

It is an expressible pleasure to know 40 observe by their sailing and the countea little of the world, and to be of no character or significancy in it.

nances of the ruddy virgins who were supercargoes, the parts of the town to which they were bound. There was an air in the purveyors for Covent Garden, who frequently converse with morning rakes, very unlike the seeming sobriety of those bound for Stocks Market.

To be ever unconcerned, and ever looking on new objects with an endless curiosity, is a delight known only to those 45 who are turned for speculation: nay, they who enjoy it must value things only as they are the objects of speculation, without drawing any worldly advantage to themselves from them, but just as they 50 are what contribute to their amusement, or the improvement of the mind. I lay one night last week at Richmond; and being restless, not out of dissatisfaction, but a certain busy inclination one some- 55 arrived at Strand Bridge at six of the

times has, I rose at four in the morning, and took boat for London, with a resolution to rove by boat and coach for the

Nothing remarkable happened in our voyage; but I landed with ten sail of apricot-boats, at Strand Bridge, after having put in at Nine Elms, and taken in melons, consigned by Mr. Cuffe, of that place, to Sarah Sewell and Company, at their stall in Covent Garden. We

clock, and were unloading, when the hackney-coachmen of the foregoing night took their leave of each other at the

Darkhouse, to go to bed before the day was too far spent. Chimney-sweepers passed by us as we made up to the market, and some raillery happened between one of the fruit-wenches and those black men about the Devil and Eve, with allusion to their several professions. I could not believe any place more entertaining than Covent Garden, where I

laced shoe on her left foot, with a careless gesture, just appearing on the opposite cushion, held her both firm and in a proper attitude to receive the next 5 jolt.

As she was an excellent coach-woman, many were the glances at each other which we had for an hour and a half in all parts of the town, by the skill of our

strolled from one fruit-shop to another, 10 drivers, till at last my lady was conven- .

with crowds of agreeable young women, around me, who were purchasing fruit for their respective families. It almost eight of the clock before I could

iently lost, with notice from her coachman to ours to make off, and he should hear where she went. This chase was now at an end, and the fellow who drove

leave that variety of objects. I took 15 her came to us, and discovered that he

coach and followed a young lady, who
tripped into another just before me, at-
tended by her maid. I saw immediately
she was of the family of the Vainloves.
There are a set of these, who, of all 20
things, affect the play of blindman's-
buff, and leading men into love for they
know not whom, who are fled they know
not where. This sort of woman is usu-
ally a jaunty slattern; she hangs on her 25
clothes, plays her head, varies her pos-
ture, and changes place incessantly, and
all with an appearance of striving at the
same time to hide herself, and yet give
you to understand she is in humor to 30
laugh at you. You must have often seen
the coachmen make signs with their fin-
gers, as they drive by each other, to in-
timate how much they have got that day.
They can carry on that language to give 35
intelligence where they are driving. In
an instant my coachman took the wink to
pursue, and the lady's driver gave the
hint that he was going through Longacre
toward St. James's; while he whipped up 40
James Street, we drove for King Street,
to save the pass at St. Martin's Lane.
The coachmen took care to meet, jostle,
and threaten each other for way, and
be entangled at the end of Newport 45
Street and Longacre. The fright, you
must believe, brought down the lady's
coach-door, and obliged her, with her
mask off, to inquire into the bustle,-
when she sees the man she would avoid. 50
The tackle of the coach-window is so
bad she cannot draw it up again, and
she drives on, sometimes wholly dis-
covered, and sometimes half escaped, ac-
cording to the accident of carriages in 55
her way. One of these ladies keeps her
seat in a hackney-coach as well as the
best rider does on a managed horse. The

was ordered to come again in an hour, for that she was a silk-worm. I was surprised with this phrase, but found it was a cant among the hackney fraternity for their best customers, women who ramble twice or thrice a week from shop to shop, to turn over all the goods in town without buying anything. The silk-worms are, it seems, indulged by the tradesmen; for, though they never buy, they are ever talking of new silks, laces, and ribbons, and serve the owners in getting them customers, as their common dunners do in making them pay.

The day of people of fashion began now to break, and carts and hacks were mingled with equipages of show and vanity, when I resolved to walk it, out of cheapness; but my unhappy curiosity is such, that I find it always my interest to take a coach, for some odd adventure among beggars, ballad-singers, or the like, detains and throws me into expense. It happened so immediately, for at the corner of Warwick Street, as I was listening to a new ballad, a ragged rascal, a beggar who knew me, came up to me, and began to turn the eyes of the good company upon me, by telling me he was extreme poor, and should die in the street for want of drink, except I immediately would have the charity to give him sixpence to go into the next ale-house and save his life. He urged with a melancholy face, that all his family had died of thirst. All the mob have humor, and two or three began to take the jest; by which Mr. Sturdy carried his point, and let me sneak off to a coach. As I drove along, it was a pleasing reflection to see the world so prettily checkered since I left Richmond, and the scene still filling with children of a new hour. This satis

I went afterward to Robin's, and saw people who had dined with me at the five-penny five-penny ordinary just before, give bills for the value of large estates; and 5 could not but behold with great pleasure property lodged in and transferred in a moment from, such as would never be masters of half as much as is seemingly in them, and given from them, every

afternoon I left the city, came to my common scene of Covent Garden, and passed the evening at Will's in attending the discourses of several sets of people, who relieved each other within my hearing on the subjects of cards, dice, love, learning, and politics. The last subject kept me till I heard the streets in the possession of the bellman, who had now the world to himself, and cried, 'Past two o'clock.' This roused me from my seat; and I went to my lodgings, led by a light, whom I put into the discourse of his private economy, and made him give me an account of the charge, hazard, profit, and loss of a family that depended upon a link, with a design to end my trivial day with the generosity of sixpence, instead of a third part of that

faction increased as I moved towards the city; and gay signs, well-disposed streets, magnificent public structures, and wealthy shops adorned with contented faces, made the joy still rising till we came into the center of the city, and center of the world of trade, the Exchange of London. As other men in the crowds about me were pleased with their hopes and bargains, I found my account in observing 10 day they live. But before five in the them, in attention to their several interests. I, indeed, looked upon myself as the richest man that walked the Exchange that day; for my benevolence made me share the gains of every bargain that 15 was made. It was not the least of my satisfaction in my survey, to go up stairs and pass the shops of agreeable females; to observe so many pretty hands busy in the folding of ribbons, and the 20 utmost eagerness of agreeable faces in the sale of patches, pins, and wires, on each side of the counters, was an amusement in which I could longer have indulged myself, had not the dear creatures 25 called to me, to ask what I wanted, when I could not answer, Only to look at you.' I went to one of the windows which opened to the area below, where all the several voices lost their distinc- 30 sum. tion, and rose up in a confused humming, which created in me a reflection that could not come into the mind of any but of one a little too studious; for I said to myself with a kind of pun in thought, 35 'What nonsense is all the hurry of this world to those who are above it?' In these, or not much wiser thoughts, I had like to have lost my place at the chophouse, where every man, according to 40 the natural bashfulness or sullenness of our nation, eats in a public room a mess of broth, or chop of meat, in dumb silence, as if they had no pretense to speak to each other on the foot of being men, 45 except they were of each other's acquaintance.

When I came to my chambers, I writ down these minutes, but was at a loss what instruction I should propose to my reader from the enumeration of so many insignificant matters and occurrences; and I thought it of great use, if they could learn with me to keep their minds open to gratification, and ready to receive it from anything it meets with. This one circumstance will make every face you see give you the satisfaction you now take in beholding that of a friend; will make every object a pleasing one; will make all the good which arrives to any man an increase of happiness to yourself.

Monday, August 11, 1712.

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JOSEPH ADDISON (1672-1719)

From a refined clerical home, Addison was sent to Charterhouse School and thence, at fifteen to Oxford, where he distinguished himself as a scholar and rose to a fellowship at Magdalen College (1697-99). By his twenty-second year, he was known as a cultivated writer of English and Latin verses and Dryden had welcomed him to the world of letters. While he was considering the church, the Whig government, desiring to enlist the service of his pen, granted him a pension which enabled him to spend four years in study and travel on the continent. Returning, in 1704, to a mean London lodging, he was directly sought out by the Whig leaders and commissioned to celebrate the recent victory of Marlborough at Blenheim. His poem, The Campaign, proved satisfactory, and he was rewarded with lucrative secretaryhips, one of which took him to Ireland, where he was eminently successful and popular. Meantime, he had become a leader among the coffee-house wits and had won the friendship of Swift. He renewed his Charterhouse intimacy with Steele, was responsible for many applauded strokes' in the latter's comedy, The Tender Husband (1705), and contributed to The Tatler (1709), 42 of its 271 numbers. With Steele, he started The Spectator (1711-12) which appeared daily and ran to 555 numbers, of which Addison wrote 274. In The Spectator, Addison's genius found its aptest expression. No other periodical writing has every combined, so high a degree, immediate journalistic effectiveness and permanent literary charm. This success was promptly followed by that of his tragedy, Cato (1713), which, though intrinsically indramatic, became immensely famous because of its supposed political sentiments. When The Whigs returned to power, he was made chief secretary for Ireland; carried on, for a ime, a party periodical called The Freeholder; became in 1716 commissioner for trade and the colonies, and, in 1717, secretary of state. Ill-health and, possibly, ill-success as a public speaker induced him to resign his post after a few months. In the midst of new literary plans and an unkind political squabble with his old friend Steele, he was cut off by death when only forty-seven years of age. A fine elegy, by his friend Tickell, gives us a good dea of his impressive night burial in Westminster Abbey. Addison's central qualities are discretion and self-possession. He always preferred cheerluess to mirth,' and those who look for sensational elements, whether in style or behavior, will find him tame. A profane person once pronounced him a parson in a tye-wig,' and nother vindictively declared, One day or other you'll see that man a bishop.' But the hiefs of a witty and sociable age owned that, after the bottle had been round and among riends, he was the most delightful companion alive. As a writer, he profoundly influenced English manners and morals by demonstrating that urbanity and good breeding might be ssociated with learning, and that virtue is not necessarily incompatible with elegance and wit. of his merit as a prose stylist, no one has spoken more roundly than Dr. Johnson in his easured statement, that Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not parse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison.'

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No. 1.]




standing of an author. To gratify this. curiosity, which is SO natural to a reader, I design this paper, and my next, as prefatory discourses to my following 5 writings, and shall give some account in them of the several persons that are engaged in this work. As the chief trouble of compiling, digesting, and correcting, will fall to my share, I must do myself the justice to open the work with my own history.

I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure, til he knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric dis- 10 position, married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that I was born to a small hereditary esconduce very much to the right under- tate, which, according to the tradition of

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