SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. I. THE SPECTATOR. [Spectator No. 1. Thursday, March 1, 1711. Addison.] Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem HORACE. I HAVE observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure till he knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature that conduce very much to the right understanding 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 writings, and shall give some account in them of the several persons that are engaged in The date of this first paper was March 1, 1711. The year is sometimes written 1710-1711, because until 1752 England considered the legal new year to begin on March 25; so in dates previous to 1752 occurring between January 1 and March 24 inclusive, two years are often given the first being old style, the second new style. But Addison dated this simply 1711, as the customary year in England and Ireland, and both the customary and legal year in Scotland, dated from January 1. In Scotland the new style had been legal since 1600. The first number of the Spectator was called by Addison a prefatory discourse-a term which he extended to the second number also-and forms a fitting introduction to the de Coverley papers. See Appendix. 1 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 was born to a small hereditary estate, which, according to the tradition of the village where it lies, was bounded by the same hedges and ditches in William the Conqueror's time that it is at present, and has been delivered down from father to son whole and entire, without the loss or acquisition of a single field or meadow, during the space of six hundred years. There runs a story in the family, that my mother dreamt that she was brought to bed of a judge: whether this might proceed from a lawsuit which was then depending in the family, or my father's being a justice of the peace, I cannot determine; for I am not so vain as to think it presaged any dignity that I should arrive at in my future life, though that was the interpretation which the neighborhood put upon it. The gravity of my behavior at my very first appearance in the world seemed to favor my mother's dream; for, as she has often told me, I threw away my rattle before I was two months old, and would not make use of my coral till they had taken away the bells from it. 5 4 As for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing in it remarkable, I shall pass it over in silence. I find that, during my nonage, I had the reputation of a very sullen 1 The editing of the daily sheet which the Spectator Club is about to issue. See the concluding paragraph of this number. 2 Of course this "history" is a fictitious one; but as you read it, note whether there are any resemblances to what you know of Addison's history and personality. See the Introduction (Biography), Macaulay's Essay on Addison, and Thackeray's English Humorists. Also consult the encyclopædias and biographical dictionaries. Like many other writers, as, for instance, Hawthorne and Irving, while denying his own belief in some theory, the author contrives to convince the reader that the theory may be true, after all. See some large dictionary, like Webster's International, the Standard, the Century, or Murray's. What does this imply as to the first two months? See note 3. See the dictionary. I. e., of being; or, the reputation which a sullen youth would gain. youth, but was always a favorite of my school-master, who used to say 66 that my parts were solid and would wear well." I had not been long at the University before I distinguished myself by a most profound silence; for during the space of eight years, excepting in the public exercises of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of an hundred words; and indeed do not remember that I ever spoke three sentences together in my whole life. Whilst I was in this learned body, I applied myself with so much diligence to my studies that there are very few celebrated books, either in the learned or the modern tongues, which I am not acquainted with. Upon the death of my father, I was resolved to travel into foreign countries, and therefore left the University with the character of 2 an odd, unaccountable fellow, that had a great deal of learning, if I would but show it. An insatiable thirst after knowledge carried me into all the countries of Europe in which there was anything new or strange to be seen; nay, to such a degree was my curiosity raised, that having read the controversies of some great men concerning the antiquities of Egypt, I made a voyage to Grand Cairo, on purpose to take the measure of a pyramid; and as soon as I had set myself right in that particular, returned to my native country with great satisfaction.3 I have passed my latter years in this city, where I am frequently seen in most public places, though there are not above half a dozen of my select friends that know me; of Read between the lines of this humorous hyperbole and you will be reminded of the German proverb: "Speech is silvern, silence is golden; Speech is human, silence is divine." Sir Walter Scott said: "Silence is deep as eternity; speech is shallow as time." Contrast, also, the Spectator's description of himself with Sydney Smith's witty description of Macaulay: "Macaulay is like a book in breeches. He has occasional flashes of silence, that make his conversation perfectly delightful." 2 Cf. with "the reputation of" on p. 2 and note 7. A satire on great undertakings with small returns. ciously Addison would treat of our Arctic expeditions! * London. How deli 2 whom my next paper shall give a more particular account. There is no place of general resort wherein I do not often make my appearance; sometimes I am seen thrusting my head into a round of politicians at Will's,1 and listening with great attention to the narratives that are made in those little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke a pipe at Child's,1 and whilst I seem attentive to nothing but the Postman, overhear the conversation of every table in the room. I appear on Sunday nights at St. James's1 coffeehouse, and sometimes join the little committee of politics in the inner room, as one who comes there to hear and improve. My face is likewise very well known at the Grecian,1 the Cocoa Tree,1 and in the theatres both of Drury Lane and the Hay Market. I have been taken for a merchant upon the Exchange for above these ten years, and sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly of stockjobbers at Jonathan's. In short, wherever I see a cluster of people, I always mix with them, though I never open my lips but in my own club. Thus I live in the world rather as a SPECTATOR of mankind than as one of the species; by which means I have made myself a speculative statesman, soldier, merchant, and artisan, without ever meddling with any practical part in life. I am very well versed in the theory of an husband or a father, and can discern the errors in the economy, business, and diversion of others better than those who are engaged in them: as standers-by discover blots which are 1 These were all coffee-houses (except the Cocoa Tree, which was a chocolate house)-places much frequented in Addison's time. For full description see notes on Spectator No. 1, in Henry Morley's edition of the Spectator, and G. W. Greene's edition of Addison's works. See also Spectators 46, 49, 148, 197, 403, 476, 521, Tatler No. 268, and read chap. iii. in Macaulay's Hist. of England. The Grecian, in Devereux Court, Strand, was one of the first coffeehouses in London. In 1652 an English Turkey merchant brought home with him a Greek servant who first opened this house for making and selling coffee hence the name. 2 A penny weekly newspaper. 3 Note the two antithetical words. * A term used in backgammon when a single man is left exposed. |