Study Edition · Essay 22
Sir Roger in Westminster Abbey
Source: The Spectator, No. 329, Tuesday 18 March 1712. Text from The Spectator, ed. Henry Morley, Project Gutenberg #12030. Spelling and capitals modernized. Archaic verb forms modernized; vocabulary kept and glossed.
A year after his solemn walk among the tombs (essay 20), Mr. Spectator returns to Westminster Abbey with Sir Roger de Coverley, the kindly, old-fashioned country squire of the Spectator Club. Sir Roger has been reading a popular history book and wants to see the kings for himself. The comedy lies in his innocent enthusiasm, his quack medicine, his suspicion of Whigs and his generous heart.
33 sentences: 7 simple, 11 moderate, 15 complex. Hover a number for its paraphrase; click it for the full note.
Key Vocabulary
- t'otherthe other (casual contraction)
- ingeniousclever and original
- fanciesimaginative ideas
- chroniclea history written as a record of events year by year
- unpalatableunpleasant to taste
- the stone or gravelkidney or bladder stones
- hackney coacha horse-drawn carriage for hire, an early taxi
- apothecarya person who made and sold medicines; a pharmacist
- gratisfree of charge
- jointureproperty settled on a wife to support her if widowed
- faingladly; willingly
- axletreethe bar on which a carriage's wheels turn
- warrantto guarantee; “I warrant” = I'm sure
- housewiferythe skills of running a household, including sewing
- trepannedtrapped or tricked (old slang)
- tobacco-stoppera small tool for pressing tobacco down in a pipe
- pommelthe knob at the end of a sword's handle
- touch for the evilto cure scrofula by a royal touch, an old belief
- benevolencekindness; goodwill
The Essay
Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit et Ancus. (Horace)1
My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me t'other night, that he had been reading my paper upon Westminster Abbey, in which, says he, there are a great many ingenious fancies.2 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.3 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.4 Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next morning, that we might go together to the Abbey.5
I found the knight under his butler's hands, who always shaves him.6 He was no sooner dressed, than he called for a glass of the Widow Trueby's water, which he told me he always drank before he went abroad.7 He recommended me to a dram of it at the same time, with so much heartiness, that I could not forbear drinking it.8 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.9
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 good-will.10 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 Danzig: 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.11
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 and apothecaries in the county: 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, 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, perhaps I could not have done better.12
His discourse was broken off by his man's telling him he had called a coach.13 Upon our going to it, after having cast his eye upon the wheels, he asked the coachman if his axletree 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.14
We had not gone far, when Sir Roger popping out his head, called the coachman down from his box, and upon his 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.15 Nothing material happened in the remaining part of our journey, till we were set down at the west end of the Abbey.16
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!17 Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudesley Shovel, he flung his hand that way, and cried, Sir Cloudesley Shovel! a very gallant man!18 As we stood before Busby's tomb, the knight uttered himself again after the same manner, Dr. Busby, a great man! he whipped my grandfather; a very great man!19 I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a blockhead; a very great man!20
We were immediately conducted into the little chapel on the right hand.21 Sir Roger planting himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive to every thing he said, particularly to the account he gave us of the lord who had cut off the King of Morocco's head.22 Among several other figures, he was very well pleased to see the statesman Cecil 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.23 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.24
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?25 The fellow, instead of returning him an answer, told him, that he hoped his Honour would pay his forfeit.26 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 t'other of them.27
Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon Edward the Third's sword, and leaning upon the pommel 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.28
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; and afterwards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his head, and told us there was fine reading in the casualties in that reign.29
Our conductor then pointed to that monument where there is the figure of one of our English kings without a 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.30
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.31
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.32
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.33
Sentence Notes
In plain English: “Yet it remains for you to go where Numa and Ancus have gone.”
Reference & context: Horace, Epistles I.6.27. Numa Pompilius and Ancus Marcius were early kings of Rome. Even good kings die: a fitting motto for a tour of royal tombs.
In plain English: My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me the other night that he'd been reading my essay on Westminster Abbey, which, he said, had lots of clever ideas in it.
Reference & context: The paper is Spectator No. 26 (essay 20 in this collection). Sir Roger is the much-loved country gentleman of the fictional Spectator Club, who appears in many papers.
In plain English: He also said he had noticed my promise of another essay on the tombs, and he'd like to go with me, as he hadn't been there since he'd started reading history.
In plain English: At first I couldn't think where he'd got this idea, until I remembered that he had spent all last summer reading Baker's Chronicle, and had quoted it several times in his arguments with Sir Andrew Freeport since arriving in London.
Reference & context: Sir Richard Baker's A Chronicle of the Kings of England (1643) was a popular, old-fashioned history much read by country gentlemen. Sir Andrew Freeport is the club's merchant and Sir Roger's friendly rival in argument.
In plain English: So I promised to collect him the next morning so we could go to the Abbey together.
In plain English: When I arrived, Sir Roger was being shaved by his butler, who always does it.
In plain English: As soon as he was dressed he asked for a glass of the Widow Trueby's water, which he said he always drank before going out.
Reference & context: “Water” here means a home-distilled medicinal drink. “Go abroad” meant simply to go out of doors.
In plain English: He urged me to have a small glass too, so warmly that I couldn't refuse.
In plain English: As soon as I'd swallowed it I found it disgusting. Seeing me pull faces, Sir Roger said he knew I wouldn't like it at first, but that it was the best cure in the world for kidney stones.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Typical Sir Roger: kindly, confident and completely unscientific.
In plain English: I wished he'd told me what it was supposed to do before I drank it; but it was too late to complain, and I knew he meant well.
Reference & context: Dry humour: Mr. Spectator didn't have kidney stones, so he drank a vile medicine for nothing.
In plain English: He added that it was excellent protection against infection while in London, and that he'd stocked up on it as soon as he heard about the plague in Danzig. Then he suddenly turned to a servant behind him and told him to fetch a cab, making sure the driver was an older man.
Reference & context: Plague struck Danzig (Gdańsk) and the Baltic in 1709–1711, causing fear in England. Sir Roger wants an elderly coachman presumably because he trusts age and experience over youthful recklessness.
In plain English: He went back to talking about Mrs. Trueby's water. The widow, he said, did more good than all the doctors and chemists in the county: she distilled every poppy within five miles and gave her medicine away free to everyone. He added that she had a large income from her late husband, that the whole county wanted the two of them to marry, and that honestly, if his heart had not been taken, he couldn't have found anyone better.
Reference & context: Poppies yield opium, so the widow's “water” was probably laced with laudanum, which may explain its popularity. Sir Roger's heart is “engaged” to a cruel widow who rejected him years before, a running joke in the Spectator papers.
In plain English: He was interrupted by his servant saying the coach had arrived.
In plain English: When we got to it, he looked at the wheels and asked the driver if his axle was sound. The man said he'd guarantee it, so Sir Roger turned to me, said he looked like an honest fellow, and climbed in without more fuss.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Sir Roger judges people entirely by their faces and their word, which is touching and naive.
In plain English: We hadn't gone far when Sir Roger stuck his head out, called the driver down from his seat, and asked him if he smoked. While I was wondering where this was going, he told him to stop at a good tobacco shop on the way and buy himself a roll of the best Virginia tobacco.
Reference & context: Virginia tobacco from the American colonies was the finest available. Sir Roger is giving the coachman a present.
In plain English: Nothing important happened for the rest of the trip until we were dropped at the Abbey's west door.
In plain English: As we walked up the nave, Sir Roger pointed at the carved trophies on a new monument and exclaimed, “A brave man, I'm sure!”
Reference & context: Trophies are carved groups of weapons and flags. The “new monuments” were for officers killed in the current war against France.
In plain English: Later, passing Sir Cloudesley Shovell's monument, he waved a hand at it and cried, “Sir Cloudesley Shovell! A very brave man!”
Reference & context: The same monument Mr. Spectator criticised in No. 26 for showing the admiral as a pampered beau. Sir Roger notices none of that.
In plain English: In front of Dr. Busby's tomb he spoke out again in the same way: “Dr. Busby, a great man! He flogged my grandfather. A very great man!”
Why this phrase is worth keeping: A perfectly comic line: a flogging is offered as proof of greatness.
Reference & context: Dr. Richard Busby (1606–1695), headmaster of Westminster School for 57 years, was famous for his learning and for his fondness for the birch rod.
In plain English: “I would have gone to his school myself if I hadn't been such a dunce. A very great man!”
In plain English: We were then led into the little chapel on the right.
In plain English: Sir Roger stuck close to our guide's side and listened carefully to everything, especially the story of the lord who had cut off the King of Morocco's head.
Reference & context: Guides at the Abbey (here called the “historian” and “interpreter”) told tall tales. This one may refer to the tomb of Sir Bernard Brocas, said to have beheaded a Moorish king in Spain.
In plain English: Among other statues, he was very pleased to see the statesman Cecil kneeling, and, deciding they were all great men, he was led to the figure of the lady who, as a martyr to household skills, died from pricking herself with a needle.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Addison's mock-heroic phrasing gently laughs at the guides' tall tale.
Reference & context: William Cecil, Lord Burghley, Elizabeth I's chief minister, is shown kneeling on his family tomb. The “martyr” is Lady Elizabeth Russell, whose statue points a finger downward. Guides claimed she had died from a needle prick while sewing on a Sunday.
In plain English: When the guide said she had been a maid of honour to Queen Elizabeth, Sir Roger asked eagerly about her name and family; and after studying her finger for a while he said, “I'm surprised Sir Richard Baker doesn't mention her in his Chronicle.”
In plain English: Next we were taken to the two coronation chairs. When my old friend heard that the stone under the older one, brought from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pillar, he sat down in the chair, looking like a statue of some ancient Gothic king, and asked the guide what proof they had that Jacob had ever been to Scotland.
Reference & context: The Stone of Scone, on which Scottish kings were crowned, was taken by Edward I in 1296 and placed under the Coronation Chair. Legend said it was the stone Jacob used as a pillow when he dreamed of the ladder to heaven (Genesis 28:11–18). It was returned to Scotland in 1996.
In plain English: Instead of answering, the guide said he hoped His Honour would pay the fine.
Reference & context: Visitors who sat in the Coronation Chair were expected to pay a small fine or tip.
In plain English: I could see Sir Roger was a bit annoyed at being caught out like this; but since the guide didn't press for the money, he soon cheered up and whispered to me that if Will Wimble were here, he'd surely manage to carve a pipe-tamper out of one chair or the other.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Sir Roger's joke imagines the throne of England whittled into a tobacco gadget, irreverent and affectionate at once.
Reference & context: Will Wimble is a neighbour of Sir Roger's in the Spectator, an idle younger son who spends his time making little gadgets such as tobacco-stoppers (Spectator No. 108).
In plain English: Next Sir Roger put his hand on Edward III's sword and, leaning on its hilt, told us the whole story of the Black Prince, concluding that, according to Sir Richard Baker, Edward III was one of the greatest kings ever to sit on the English throne.
Reference & context: Edward III (reigned 1327–1377) won great victories in the Hundred Years' War; his son Edward, the Black Prince, won the battles of Crécy and Poitiers. Edward III's huge state sword is still shown in the Abbey.
In plain English: Then we were shown Edward the Confessor's tomb, and Sir Roger told us he was the first king to cure scrofula by touching sufferers. Then came Henry IV's tomb, at which he shook his head and said there was some fine reading about the disasters of that reign.
Reference & context: Edward the Confessor (d. 1066) founded the Abbey. “The King's Evil” was scrofula, a disease people believed the monarch's touch could cure; Queen Anne still touched sufferers in 1712. Henry IV seized the throne from Richard II, and his reign was full of rebellion. Baker's Chronicle lists the year's “casualties” (strange accidents) at the end of each reign. Henry IV is actually buried in Canterbury, a slip by Addison or by the guide.
In plain English: Our guide then pointed to a royal effigy with no head and told us that the head, made of hammered silver, had been stolen years ago. “Some Whig, I bet,” said Sir Roger. “You ought to lock up your kings better; they'll steal the body too if you're not careful.”
Why this phrase is worth keeping: Sir Roger's party prejudice turns a theft into a political crime, and his advice to “lock up your kings” is wonderfully absurd.
Reference & context: The oak effigy of Henry V had a silver head that was stolen in 1546 (a new head was made in 1971). Sir Roger is a loyal Tory, so he blames the rival Whig party, which supported limits on royal power.
In plain English: The great names of Henry V and Queen Elizabeth gave Sir Roger plenty of chances to show off his knowledge and quote Sir Richard Baker. He noticed with some surprise that Baker's book contained many kings whose monuments he hadn't seen in the Abbey.
Reference & context: Many English kings are buried elsewhere, for example at Winchester, Windsor or Canterbury. Sir Roger innocently expects the book and the building to match.
In plain English: For my part, I was delighted to see Sir Roger show such sincere love for his country's glory and such respectful gratitude towards its past rulers.
Why this phrase is worth keeping: After all the gentle mockery, Addison makes clear that he loves Sir Roger's simple patriotism.
In plain English: I mustn't forget to say that my old friend's kindness, which he shows to everyone he talks to, made him very generous to our guide, whom he thought a remarkable man. So he shook his hand when we left and said he'd be very glad to see him at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings to chat about these things at more leisure.
Reference & context: Norfolk Buildings were off the Strand in London. A country squire inviting a paid tour guide to visit him as a friend would have seemed charmingly unworldly.
Fun Fact
The papers about Sir Roger became so popular that Addison decided to kill him off (in Spectator No. 517, 1712), reportedly so that no other writer could borrow the character and spoil him. The old country dance “Sir Roger de Coverley” is older than the Spectator and gave the knight his name, and it is still danced at English and American Christmas parties.