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TO TES

LE JOHN LORD SOMERS,

OF EVESHAM *.

services which you have effected. Do what you bec-will, the present age will be talking of your virtues, one though posterity alone will do them justice.

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Other men pass through oppositions and contending interests in the ways of ambition; but your can great abilities have been invited to power, and imOurs portuned to accept of advancement. Nor is it ing strange that this should happen to your lordship, at- who could bring into the service of your sovereign so- the arts and policies of ancient Greece and Rome;

as well as the most exact knowledge of our own Ter- constitution in particular, and of the interests of to Europe in general; to which I must also add, a But, certain dignity in yourself, that (to say the least ich of it) has been always equal to those great honours which have been conferred upon you.

for It is very well known how much the church ive owed to you, in the most dangerous day it ever lu- saw, that of the arraignment of its prelates † ; and the how far the civil power, in the late and present ns, reign, has been indebted to your counsels and ali- wisdom.

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But to enumerate the great advantages which al the public has received from your administration,

ave lord high chancellor of England. In the beginning of os 1700 he was removed from his post of lord chancellor; at and the year after was impeached of high crimes and misle, demeanors by the house of commons, of which he was acd- quitted upon trial by the house of lords. He then retired self to a studious course of life, and was chosen president of the ece Royal Society. In 1706 he proposed a bill for the regulation of the law; and the same year was one of the principal ma

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nagers for the union between England and Scotland. In nd 1708 he was made lord president of the council, from which post he was removed in 1710, upon the change of the mini22, stry. In the latter end of Queen Anne's reign, his lordship a- grew very infirm in his health; which indisposition is sup. posed to have been the reason that he held no other post than a seat at the council table after the accession of King George I. -p- He died of an apoplectic fit, April 26, 1716. Lord Somers, bet-sides being a most incorrupt lawyer, and honest statesman, was a master-orator, a genius of the finest taste, a great patron d. of men of parts and learning, and was the person who reof deemed Milton's 'Paradise Lost' from that obscurity in which of party-prejudice and hatred had suffered it long to lie neglectce, ed. He wrote several pieces on the subject of politics, and he translated certain parts of Plutarch and Ovid.

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+ Trial of the seven bishops, June 29, 1689.

would be a more proper work for an history, than himself, without thinking the less meanly of hi for an address of this nature.

Your lordship appears as great in your private life, as in the most important offices which you have borne. I would, therefore, rather choose to speak of the pleasure you afford all who are admitted to your conversation, of your elegant taste in all the polite arts of learning, of your great humanity and complacency of manners, and of the surprising influence which is peculiar to you, in making every one who converses with your lordship prefer you to

own talents. But if I should take notice of all tha might be observed in your lordship, I should have nothing new to say upon any other character of distinction. I am, MY LORD,

Your lordship's most devoted,

Most obedient humble servant,
THE SPECTATOR.

This must certainly be an error; and for less we should read more.

THE

SPECTATOR.

NI. THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 1710-11.

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Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem
Cagitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat.
HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 143.

One with a flash begins, and ends in smoke;
Another out of smoke brings glorious light,
And (without raising expectation high)
Surpises us with dazzling miracles.
ROSCOMMON.

VOL. 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 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 bandred years. There runs a story in the family, that when my mother was gone with child of me about three months, she dreamt that she was brought to bed of a judge. Whether this might proceed from a law-suit 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 ap pearance in the world, and at the time that I sucked, seemed to favour my mother's dream: for, as she has often told me, I threw away my rattle befure I was two months old, and would not make the of my coral until they and taken away the beils from it.

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 youth, but was always a favourite of 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 exercises of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of a hundred words; and indeed do not remember that I ever spoke three sentences toge-, ther in my whole life. Whilst I was in this fearned body, I applied myself with so much diligence 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 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 any thing 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*.

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 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 au'diences; sometimes I smoke a pipe at Child'st, and, while I seem attentive to nothing but the Post man, overhear the conversation of every table in the room. I appear on Sunday night at St. James's coffee-house, and sometimes join the lit tle 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, the Cocoa-Tree, and in the theatres both of Drury Lane and the Haymarket. 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 stock-jobbers 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 artizan, without ever meddling with any practical part in life. I am very well versed in the theory of a 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 apt to escape those who are in the game. I never espoused any party with violence, and am resolved to observe an exact neutrality between the whigs and tories, unless I shall be forced to declare myself by the hostilities of either side. In short, I have acted in all the parts of my life as a looker-on, which is the character I intend to preserve in this paper.

*An allusion, no doubt, to Mr. John Greaves, a mathematician and antiquary, who, after visiting Egypt, published a book entitled Pyramidographia."

sort of the clergy.
+ This coffee-house, in St. Paul's Church-yard, was the re

In 'Change Alley.

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I have given the reader just so much of my history and character, as to let him see 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 heard, I begin to blame my own taciturnity; and since I have neither time nor inclination to communicate the fulness of my heart in speech, I am resolved to do it in writing, and to print myself out, if possible, before I die. I have been often told by my friends, that it is pity, so many useful discoveries which I have made should be in the possession of a silent man. For this reason, therefore, I shall publish a sheet-full of thoughts every morning for the benefit of my contemporaries; and if I can any way contribute to the diversion or improvement of the country in which I live, I shall leave it, when I am summoned out of it, with the secret satisfaction of thinking that I have not lived in vain.

There are three very material points which I have not spoken to in this paper; and which, for several important reasons, 1 must keep to myself, at least for some time; I mean, an account of my name, my age, and my lodgings. I must confess, I would gratify my reader in any thing that is reasonable; but as for these three particulars, though I am sensible they might tend very much to the embellishment of my paper, I cannot yet come to a resolution of communicating them to the public. They would indeed draw me out of that obscurity which I have enjoyed for many years, and expose me in public places to several salutes and civilities, which have been always very disagreeable to me; for the greatest pain I can suffer, is the being talked to, and being stared at. It is for this reason, likewise, that I keep my complexion and dress as very great secrets; though it is not impossible but I may make discoveries of both in the progress of the work I have undertaken.

was inventor of that famous country-dance which is called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world, only as he thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humour creates him no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his being unconfined to modes and forms, makes him but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he lives in Soho Square*. It is said, he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow + of the next county to him. Before this disappointment Sir Roger was what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etheridge, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked bully Dawson‡ in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being ill used by the above-mentioned widow, be was very serious for a year and a half: and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards. He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. It is said Sir Roger grew humble in his desires after he had forgot his cruel beanty, insomuch that it is reported he has frequently offended in point of chastity with beggars and gipsies; but this is looked upon, by his friends, rather as 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 be 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-session with great abilities; and three months ago gained universal applause, by explaining a passage in the game-act.

After having been thus particular upon myself, I shall in to-morrow's paper give an account of those gentlemen who are concerned with me in this work; for, as I have before intimated, a plan of it is laid and concerted (as all other matters of importance are) in a club. However, as my friends have engaged me to stand in the front, those who have a mind to correspond with me may direct their letters to the Spectator, at Mr. Buckley's, in Little Britain; for I must further acquaint the reader, that though our club mects only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have appointed a committee, to sit every night for the inspection of all such papers may contribute to the advancement of the pub-humorsome father, than in pursuit of his own inlic weal. ADDISON*.

N° 2. FRIDAY, MARCH 2, 1710-11.

Ast alii sex

Et plures, uno conclamant ore

C.

JUV. Sat. vii. 167. Six more at least join their consenting voice. THE first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of an ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His great grandfather

* His papers in the Spectator are all marked by some one of the letters composing the word CLIO. See N° 555.

+ This character is said by Mr. Tyers to have been drawn for Sir John Pac'ington of Worcestershire; a tory, not without good sense, but abounding in absurdities. But this may,

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

clinations. 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

probably, have been only a vague report. Mr. Tickell seems to have been of opinion, that the account of the Spectator and the club are altogether fictitious.

* Then the most fashionable part of the town.

+ Dr. Johnson said it appeared to him, that the story of the widow was intended to have something superinduced upon it; but the superstructure did not come.' Life of Johnson, vol. ii. p. 376, 3d edit.

Boswell's

# A noted sharper, swaggerer, and debauchee, well known in Black Friars and its then infamous purlieus; and to expose whom, it has been said, the character of Captain Hackum, in Shadwell's comedy called The Squire of Alsatia, was drawIL.

1.

THE

VOL. I.

43.

eruses

er the ild or

with

nduce

uthor.

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 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 any thing 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*.

to a

I have passed my latter years in this city, where I am frequently seen in most public places, though refa- there are not above half a dozen of my select shall friends that know me; of whom my next paper ersons shall give a more particular account. There is no trou- place of general resort wherein I do not often will make my appearance: sometimes I am seen ice to thrusting my head into a round of politicians at Will's, and listening with great attention to the which, narratives that are made in those little circular auere it 'diences; sometimes I smoke a pipe at Child's+, hes in and, while I seem attentive to nothing but the Post esent, man, overhear the conversation of every table in Oson, the room. I appear on Sunday night at St. ion of James's coffee-house, and sometimes join the litof six tle committee of politics in the inner room, as one mily, who comes there to hear and improve. My face is of me likewise very well known at the Grecian, the was Cocoa-Tree, and in the theatres both of Drury might | Lane and the Haymarket. I have been taken for nding a merchant upon the Exchange for above these ten of the years, and sometimes pass for a Jew in the assem

vain bly of stock-jobbers at Jonathan's. In short, hould wherever I see a cluster of people, I always mix he in- with them, though I never open my lips but in my on it. own club.

st ap.

Thus I live in the world rather as a Spectator suck of mankind than as one of the species; by which or, as means I have made myself a speculative statesman, le be- soldier, merchant, and artizan, without ever medmake dling with any practical part in life. I am very y the well versed in the theory of a husband or a father, and can discern the errors in the economy, busigno- ness, and diversion of others, better than those who in si- are engaged in them; as standers-by discover blots, d the which are .apt to escape those who are in the Iways game. I never espoused any party with violence, o say, and am resolved to observe an exact neutrality bewell, tween the whigs and tories, unless I shall be forced I dis- to declare myself by the hostilities of either side. ; for, In short, I have acted in all the parts of my life as n the a looker-on, which is the character I intend to preed the serve in this paper.

lo not
* An allusion, no doubt, to Mr. John Greaves, a mathema-
toge-tician and antiquary, who, after visiting Egypt, published a
fearn- book entitled Pyramidographia.'

+ This coffee-house, in St. Paul's Church-yard, was the re gence sort of the clergy.

rated

In 'Change Alley,

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