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THE SPECTATOR.

No. 1.] Thursday, March 1, 1710-11.

Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem
Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula proniat.
Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 143,

it over in silence. I find, that during my nonage, I had the reputation of a very sullen youth, but was always a favourite with my schoolmaster, who used to say, '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 exer cises 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.

One with a flash begins, and ends in smoke; Another out of smoke brings glorious light, And. (without raising expectation high) Surprises us with dazzling miracles. Roscommon. 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 ac- Upon the death of my father, I was recount in them of the several persons that are solved to travel into foreign countries, and engaged in this work. As the chief trouble therefore left the university, with the chaof compiling, digesting and correcting will racter of an odd, unaccountable fellow, that fall to my share, I must do myself the jus-had a great deal of learning, if I would but tice to open the work with my own history. show it. An insatiable thirst after knowI was born to a small hereditary estate, ledge carried me into all the countries of which according to the tradition of the vil-Europe, in which there was any thing new lage where it lies, was bounded by the or strange to be seen; nay, to such a desame hedges and ditches in William the gree was my curiosity raised, that having Conqueror's time that it is at present, and read the controversies of some great men has been delivered down from father to concerning the antiquities of Egypt, I son, whole and entire, without the loss or made a voyage to Grand Cairo, on puracquisition of a single field or meadow, pose to take the measure of a pyramid: during the space of six hundred years. and as soon as I had set myself right in that There runs a story in the family, that particular, returned to my native country when my mother was gone with child of with great satisfaction. * me about three months, she dreamt that I have passed my latter years in this city, she was brought to bed of a judge. Whe-where I am frequently seen in most public ther 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 neighbourhood put upon it. The gravity of my behaviour at my very first appearance in the world, and all the time that I sucked, seemed to favour 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 until they had taken away the bells from it.

As for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing in it remarkable, I shall pass

places, though there are not above half a dozen of my select friends that know me; of 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, and listening with great attention to the narratives that are made in those little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke a pipe at Child's,† and whilst I

astronomical professor at Oxford, who in 1646 publish* This is, probably, an allusion to Mr. John Greaves. ed a work entitled Pyramidographia.'

† Child's coffee-house was in St. Paul's church-yard

and much frequented by the clergy; St. James's is in

its original situation; Jonathan's was in Changealley, and the Rose was on the west side of Temple-bar

seem attentive to nothing but the Post- is reasonable; but as for these three partiman, overhear the conversation of every culars, though I am sensible they might table in the room. I appear on Sunday tend very much to the embellishment of nights at St. James's coffee-house, and my paper, I cannot yet come to a resolusometimes join the little committee of po- tion of communicating them to the public. litics in the inner-room, as one who comes They would indeed draw me out of that obthere to hear and improve. My face is scurity which I have enjoyed for many likewise very well known at the Grecian, years, and expose me in public places to the Cocoa-tree, and in the theatres both of several salutes and civilities, which have Drury-lane and the Hay-market. I have been always very disagreeable to me; for been taken for a merchant upon the Ex- the greatest pain I can suffer, is the being change for above these ten years, and talked to, and being stared at. It is for sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly this reason likewise, that I keep my comof stock-jobbers at Jonathan's. In short, plexion and dress as very great secrets; wherever I see a cluster of people, I al-though it is not impossible but I may make ways mix with them, though I never open | discoveries of both in the progress of the my lips but in my own club. work I have undertaken.

Thus I live in the world rather as a After having been thus particular upon Spectator of mankind, than as one of the myself, I shall in to-morrow's paper give species, by which means I have made my- an account of those gentlemen who are conself a speculative statesman, soldier, mer-cerned with me in this work; for, as I have chant, and artisan, without ever meddling before intimated, a plan of it is laid and with any practical part in life. I am very concerted (as all other matters of importwell versed in the theory of a husband, or ance are) in a club. However, as my a father, and can discern the errors in the friends have engaged me to stand in the economy, business, and diversion of others, front, those who have a mind to correbetter than those who are engaged in them; spond with me, may direct their letters to as standers-by discover blots, which are the Spectator, at Mr. Buckley's, in Little apt to escape those who are in the game. Britain. For I must further acquaint the I never espoused any party with violence, reader, that though our club meet only on and am resolved to observe an exact neu- Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have aptrality between the Whigs and Tories, un-pointed a committee to sit every night for less I shall be forced to declare myself by the inspection of all such papers as may the hostilities of either side. In short, I contribute to the advancement of the pubhave acted in all the parts of my life as a lic weal. looker-on, which is the character I intend

to preserve in this paper.

I have given the reader just so much of

Ast alii sex

C.

Et plures, uno conclamant ore.-Juv. Sat. vii. 167.
Six more at least join their consenting voice.

my history and character, as to let him see No. 2.] Friday, March 2, 1710-11. I am not altogether unqualified for the business I have undertaken. As for other particulars in my life and adventures, I shall insert them in following papers, as I shall see occasion. In the mean time, when I consider how much I have seen, read, and Worcestershire, of an ancient descent, a THE first of our society is a gentleman of heard, I begin to blame my own tacitur- baronet, his name is sir Roger de Coverly. nity; and since I have neither time nor in- His great grandfather was inventor of that clination, to communicate the fulness of my famous country-dance which is called after heart in speech, I am resolved to do it in him. All who know that shire are very writing, and to print myself out, if possi-well acquainted with the parts and the ble, before I die. I have been often told merits of sir Roger. He is a gentleman by my friends, that it is a pity so many that is very singular in his behaviour, but useful discoveries which I have made his singularities proceed from his good should be in the possession of a silent man. sense, and are contradictions to the manFor this reason, therefore, I shall publish ners of the world, only as he thinks the a sheet full of thoughts every morning, for world is in the wrong. However, this huthe benefit of my contemporaries; and if I mour creates him no enemies, for he does can any way contribute to the diversion, or improvement of the country in which I nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his live, I shall leave it when I am summoned makes him but the readier and more capabeing unconfined to modes and forms, out of it, with the secret satisfaction of ble to please and oblige all who know him. thinking that I have not lived in vain. square.* When he is in town, he lives in SohoIt is said, he keeps himself a

There are three very material points which I have not spoken to in this paper; and which, for several important reasons, I must keep to myself, at least for some Sobo-square was at that time the genteelest part time: I mean an account of my name, my of the town. The handsome house, built by the unfor age, and my lodgings. I must confess, Itunate Duke of Monmouth, occupied, until the year 1773, the whole of the ground on which Bateman's would gratify my reader in any thing that buildings now stand.

bachelor by reason he was crossed in love | but not one case in the reports of our own by a perverse beautiful widow of the next courts. No one ever took him for a fool; County to him. Before this disappoint- but none, except his intimate friends, know ment, sir Roger was what you call a fine he has a great deal of wit. This turn gentleman, had often supped with my Lord makes him at once both disinterested and Rochester and sir George Etherege, fought agreeable. As few of his thoughts are a duel upon his first coming to town, and drawn from business, they are most of them kicked bully Dawson* in a public coffee-fit for conversation. His taste for books house for calling him youngster. But be- is a little too just for the age he lives in; ing ill used by the abovementioned widow, he has read all, but approves of very few. he was very serious for a year and a half; His familiarity with the customs, manners, and though, his temper being naturally jo- actions and writings of the ancients, makes vial, he at last got over it, he grew careless him a very delicate observer of what ocof himself, and never dressed afterwards. curs to him in the present world. He is an He continues to wear a coat and doublet of excellent critic, and the time of the play the same cut that were in fashion at the is his hour of business; exactly at five he time of his repulse, which, in his merry passes through New-Inn, crosses through humours, he tells us, has been in and out Russel-court, and takes a turn at Will's twelve times since he first wore it. It is till the play begins; he has his shoes rubsaid Sir Roger grew humble in his desires bed and his periwig powdered at the barafter he had forgot his cruel beauty, inso-ber's as you go into the Rose. It is for much that it is reported he has frequently the good of the audience when he is at cffended in point of chastity with beggars a play, for the actors have an ambition to and gypsies: but this is looked upon, by his please him. friends, rather as a matter of raillery than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country; a great lover of mankind: but there is such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, that he is rather beloved than esteemed. His tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, all the young women profess love to him, and the young men are glad of his company. When he comes into a house, he calls the servants by their names, and talks all the way up stairs to a visit. I must not omit, that Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum; that he fills the chair at a quarter-sessions with great abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause, by explaining a passage in the game-act.

The gentleman next in esteem and authority among us is another bachelor, who is a member of the Inner Temple, a man of great probity, wit and understanding; but he has chosen his place of residence rather to obey the direction of an old humoursome father, than in pursuit of his own inclinations. He was placed there to study the laws of the land, and is the most learned of any of the house in those of the stage. Aristotle and Longinus are much better understood by him than Littleton or Coke. The father sends up every post questions relating to marriage-articles, leases and tenures, in the neighbourhood; all which questions he agrees with an attorney to answer and take care of in the lump. He is studying the passions themselves when he should be inquiring into the debates among men which arise from them. He knows the argument of each of the orations of Demosthenes and Tully,

This fellow was a noted sharper, swaggerer, and debauchee about town, at the time here pointed out; he was well known in Blackfriars and its then infamous purlieus.

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The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew Freeport, a merchant of great eminence in the city of London; a person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and great experience. His notions of trade are noble and generous, and (as every rich man has usually some sly way of jesting, which would make no great figure were he not a rich man) he calls the sea the British Common. He is acquainted with commerce in all its parts, and will tell you that it is a stupid and barbarcus way to extend dominion by arms; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will often argue, that if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we should gain from one nation; and if another, from another. I have heard him prove, that diligence makes more lasting acquisitions than valour, and that sloth has ruined more nations than the sword. He abounds in several frugal maxims, amongst which the greatest favourite is, A penny saved is a penny got.' A general trader of good sense is pleasanter company than a general scholar; and Sir Andrew having a natural unaffected eloquence, the perspicuity of his discourse gives the same pleasure that wit would in another man. He has made his fortune himself; and says that England may be richer than other kingdoms, by as plain methods as he himself is richer than other men; though at the same time I can say this of him, that there is not a point in the compass, but blows home a ship in which he is an owner.

Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room sits Captain Sentry, a gentleman of great courage, good understanding, but invincible modesty. He is one of those that deserve very well but are very awkward at putting their talents within the observation of such as should take notice of them. He was some years a captain, and behaved

himself with great gallantry in several en- | a word, all his conversation and knowledge gagements and at several sieges; but hav-has been in the female world. As other ing a small estate of his own, and being men of his age will take notice to you what next heir to Sir Roger, he has quitted a way such a minister said upon such and such an of life in which no man can rise suitably to occasion, he will tell you, when the duke nis merit, who is not something of a cour-of Monmouth danced at court, such a wotier as well as a soldier. I have heard him man was then smitten, another was taken often lament, that in a profession where with him at the head of his troop in the merit is placed in so conspicuous a view, Park. In all these important relations, he impudence should get the better of modes- has ever about the same time received a ty. When he has talked to this purpose, kind glance, or a blow of a fan from some I never heard him make a sour expression, celebrated beauty, mother of the present but frankly confess that he left the world, lord Such-a-one. If you speak of a young because he was not fit for it. A strict ho- commoner, that said a lively thing in the nesty and an even regular behaviour, are house, he starts up, 'He has good blood in in themselves obstacles to him that must his vein; Tom Mirable begot him; the press through crowds who endeavour at rogue cheated me in that affair; that young the same end with himself, the favour of a fellow's mother used me more like a dog commander. He will however in his way than any woman I ever made advances of talk excuse generals, for not disposing to.' This way of talking of his, very much according to men's desert, or inquiring into enlivens the conversation amongst us of a it; for, says he, that great man who has more sedate turn; and I find there is not a mind to help me, has as many to break one of the company, but myself, who rarethrough to come at me, as I have to come ly speak at all, but speaks of him as of that at him: therefore he will conclude, that the sort of man, who is usually called a wellman who would make a figure, especially bred fine gentleman. To conclude his chain a military way, must get over all false racter, where women are not concerned, modesty, and assist his patron against the he is an honest worthy man. importunity of other pretenders, by a proper assurance in his own vindication. He says it is a civil cowardice to be backward in asserting what you ought to expect, as it is a military fear to be slow in attacking when it is your duty. With this candour does the gentleman speak of himself and others. The same frankness runs through all his conversation. The military part of his life has furnished him with many adventures, in the relation of which he is very agreeable to the company; for he is never overbearing, though accustomed to command men in the utmost degree below him; nor ever too obsequious, from a habit of obeying men highly above him.

But that our society may not appear a set of humourists, unacquainted with the gallantries and pleasures of the age, we have amongst us the gallant Will Honeycomb; a gentleman who, according to his years, should be in the decline of his life; but having ever been very careful of his person, and always had a very easy fortune, time has made but a very little impression, either by wrinkles on his forehead, or traces on his brain. His person is well turned, and of a good height. He is very ready at that sort of discourse with which men usually entertain women. He has all his life dressed very well, and remembers habits as others do men. He can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs easily. He knows the history of every mode, and can inform you from which of the French King's wenches, our wives and daughters nad this manner of curling their hair, that way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort of petticoat, and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the dress so short in such a year. In

I cannot tell whether I am to account him, whom I am next to speak of, as one of our company; for he visits us but seldom, but when he does, it adds to every man else a new enjoyment of himself. He is a clergyman, a very philosophic man, of general learning, great sanctity of life, and the most exact good breeding. He has the misfortune to be of a very weak constitution, and consequently cannot accept of such cares and business as preferments in his function would oblige him to; he is therefore among divines what a chamber-counsellor is among lawyers. The probity of his mind, and the integrity of his life, create him followers, as being eloquent or loud advances others. He seldom introduces the subject he speaks upon; but we are so far gone in years, that he observes when he is among us, an earnestness to have him fall on some divine topic, which he always treats with much authority, as one who has no interest in this world, as one who is hastening to the object of all his wishes, and conceives hope from his decays and infirmities. These are my ordinary companions.

No. 3.] Saturday, March 3, 1710-11.
Et quoi quisque fere studio devinctus adhæret,
Atque in qua ratione fuit contenta magis mens,
Aut quibus in rebus multum sumus ante morati,
In somnis eadem plerumque videmur obire.

R.

Lucr. 1. iv. 959.

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to see the directors, secretaries, and clerks, | letters from all parts of the world, which with all the other members of that weal- the one or the other of them was perpetuthy corporation, ranged in their several ally reading to her; and, according to the stations, according to the parts they act news she heard, to which she was exceedin that just and regular economy. This ingly attentive, she changed colour, and revived in my memory the many discourses discovered many symptoms of health or which I had both read and heard, concern- sickness. ing the decay of public credit, with the methods of restoring it, and which in my opinion, have always been defective, because they have always been made with an eye to separate interests, and party principles.

The thoughts of the day gave my mind employment for the whole night, so that I fell insensibly into a kind of methodical dream, which disposed all my contemplations into a vision or allegory, or what else the reader shall please to call it.

Behind the throne was a prodigious heap of bags of money, which were piled upon one another so high that they touched the ceiling. The floor on her right hand, and on her left, was covered with vast sums of gold that rose up in pyramids on either side of her. But this I did not so much wonder at, when I heard upon inquiry, that she had the same virtue in her touch, which the poets tell us a Lydian king was formerly possessed of: and that she could convert whatever she pleased into that precious metal.

After a little dizziness, and confused hurry of thought, which a man often meets with in a dream, methought the hall was alarmed, the doors flew open and there entered half a dozen of the most hideous phantoms that I had ever seen (even in a dream) before that time. They came in two by two, though matched in the most dissociable manner, and mingled together in a kind of dance. It would be tedious to describe their habits and persons, for which reason I shall only inform my reader, that the first couple were Tyranny and Anarchy, the second were Bigotry and Atheism, and the third the genius of a commonwealth, and a young man of about twenty-two years of age, whose name I could not learn. He had a sword in his right hand, which in the dance he often brandished at the Act of Settlement; and a citizen, who stood by me, whispered in my ear, that he saw a sponge in his left hand. The dance of so many jarring natures put me in mind of the sun, moon, and earth, in the Rehearsal, that danced together for no other end but to eclipse one another.

Methought I returned to the great hall, where I had been the morning before, but to my surprise, instead of the company that I left there, I saw, towards the upper end of the hall, a beautiful virgin seated on a throne of gold. Her name (as they told me) was Public Credit. The walls, instead of being adorned with pictures and maps, were hung with many acts of parliament written in golden letters. At the upper end of the hall was the Magna Charta, with the Act of Uniformity on the right hand, and the Act of Toleration on the left. At the lower end of the hall was the Act of Settlement, which was placed full in the eye of the virgin that sat upon the throne. Both the sides of the hall were covered with such acts of parliament as had been made for the establishment of public funds. The lady seemed to set an unspeakable value upon these several pieces of furniture, insomuch that she often refreshed her eye with them, and often smiled with a secret pleasure, as she looked upon them; but, at the same time, showed a very particular uneasiness, if she saw any thing approaching that might hurt them. She appeared, indeed, infinitely timorous in all The reader will easily suppose, by what her behaviour: and whether it was from has been before said, that the lady on the the delicacy of her constitution, or that she throne would have been almost frighted to was troubled with vapours as I was after-distraction, had she seen but any one of wards told by one, who I found was none of her well-wishers, she changed colour, and startled at every thing she heard. She was likewise (as I afterwards found) a greater valetudinarian than any I had ever met with, even in her own sex, and subject to such momentary consumptions, that in the twinkling of an eye, she would fall away from the florid complexion, and most healthful state of body, and wither into a skeleton. Her recoveries were often as sudden as her decays, insomuch that she There was as great a change in the hill would revive in a moment out of a wasting of money-bags, and the heaps of money; distemper, into a habit of the highest health the former shrinking and falling into so and vigour. many empty bags, that I now found not

I had very soon an opportunity of observing these quick turns and changes in her Constitution. There sat at her feet a couple of secretaries, who received every hour

these spectres; what then must have been her condition when she saw them all in a body? She fainted and died away at the sight.

·

'Et neque jam color est misto candore rubori;
Nec vigor, et vires, et quæ modò visa placebant;
Nec corpus remanet-
Ovid, Met. iii. 49.

Her spirits faint,

Her blooming cheeks assume a pallid teint,
And scarce her form remains.'

June 10, 1688. See Tat. No. 187.
*James Stuart, the pretended Prince of Wales, born

To wipe out the national debt.

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