VERLEY: no model magiftrate, or self-righteous cenfor; but a hearty humorous plain old gentleman—one of themselves-with enough of their foibles taftes and prejudices to win their fympathies and to charm them into reformation.

None of the characters were elaborated with fo much care-to none was imparted fuch thorough completeness, as that of Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY; between which (to quote a saying of Horace Walpole) and Sir John Falstaff—though a wide interval-nothing like it exists in literature for truthfulness and finish. Sir ROGER'S eccentricities do not, as fome have written, disturb the consistency of the character: on the contrary they strengthen its individuality. If they be difcords, inftead of jarring, they enrich the harmony. They are precisely the humours of an honest elderly sensitive bachelor, whofe early history had been dafhed with the romance of his having been jilted. Sir ROGER does nothing and fays nothing which might not have been said and done, in his day, by any warmhearted ruftic gentleman who had been irredeemably croffed in love. Indeed, turning thus from Nature to the confummate Art which copied her, it can scarcely be denied that the character owes its immortality to the quaint traits of extravagance

which have been ftigmatized as blemishes: without impairing the efficacy of Sir ROGER as a special admonitory example to the country efquire of the reign of Queen Anne, his oddities were deftined to rivet the intereft and excite the affectionate smile of all readers in all time.

The effays which feparate the Coverley papers from one another, however exquifite in themselves, break the spell which binds the reader while lingering over the benevolence or humour of the Worceftershire baronet. Even when arranged more conveniently in a fequence, as in this book, it is not pleafing to remember that fo captivating an Identity was originated and wrought out by "feveral hands." Every fresh lineament of the good Sir ROGER fo ftrengthens the sense of Unity, that we rather love to be deluded with the notion that the whole was the work of one mind. With all art fo perfect that it conceals art, we prefer the ignorance which is our blifs, to the knowledge that reveals the companionships, contrivances, or agonies of authorcraft. Though curiofity is gratified, fentiment is hurt, when we are told that the outlines of Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY were imagined and partly traced by Sir Richard Steele; that the colouring and more prominent lineaments were elaborated by

Jofeph Addison; that fome of the back-ground was put in by Euftace Budgell; and, that the portrait was defaced by either Steele or Thomas Tickell with a deformity which Addison repudiated and which is not here reproduced.

The fum of the account in hard figures ftands thus;-Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY's adventures, opinions, and converfations occur in thirty of the Spectator's papers. Of these, Addison wrote twenty, Budgell two, and Steele eight; if it be certain that he was the author of the obnoxious portion of No. 410; which has also been attributed to Tickell.

But over this divided labour, all evidence proves that Addison exercised a rigid and harmonifing editorial vigilance. In the words of an accurate critic, "Addison took the rude outlines into his own hands, retouched them, coloured them; and is, in truth, the creator of the Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY and the WILL HONEYCOMB with whom we are all familiar." The habits of Addison and Steele were those of a close literary partnership. What Steele's quick impatient genius planned, Addifon's rich taste and thoughtful industry executed : what were, and would perhaps have ever remained, dreams in Steele's brain, came out distinct realities

from under Addison's hand. Between them Pope's maxim was fully obeyed :

"To write with fervour and correct with phlegm."

Steele fupplied fome of the fervour: Addison all the finish, all the phlegm.

But, it must be repeated, those who love Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY love not these ungenial revelations. They like to feel that the fine-hearted creation comes from a fingle fource;-from thofe nicely-balanced ftores of touching pathos and refined humour; of found common-fense and polished wit; of keen fatire and kind words; of fharp observation and genial description which exist in the single gentleman who paints his own portrait in the first pages, and who is known wherever English letters can be read, as

"THE SPECTATOR."