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Spectator Club
Spectator Club
Introductory Note
Sir Richard Steele (1672-1729), Addison`s chief collaborator in the
"Tatler" and the "Spectator," was born in Dublin of an English father and an
Irish mother. He made Addison`s acquaintance at school, and they were at
Oxford together. Steele left the University to enter the army, and opened his
literary career, while still a soldier, with "The Christian Hero." In 1702 he
began to write for the stage, and was of notable influence in redeeming the
English drama from the indecency which had marked much of it since the
Restoration. Like Addison, he combined politics with literature, and in 1715
was knighted as a reward for his services to the Hanoverian party.
The chief glory of the "Spectator" is, of course, the club, and it was in
the essay which follows that Steele first sketched the characters composing
it. The Spectator himself was Addison`s creation, and Addison also elaborated
Sir Roger, though Steele originated him. Whatever may be the respective claims
of Addison and Steele to the credit for the success of the "Spectator," it is
to Steele that the honor belongs of having founded its predecessor, the
"Tatler," and so of originating the periodical essay.
Steele was a warm - hearted, impulsive man, full of sentiment,
improvident, and somewhat weak of will. These qualities are reflected in his
writings, which are inferior to Addison`s in grace and finish, but are marked
by greater spontaneity and invention. Probably no piece of writing of equal
length has added so many portraits to the gallery of our literature as the
first sketch of the Spectator Club which is here printed.
Published in "The Spectator," March 1, 1711.
Ast alii sex
Et plures uno conclamant ore.
- Juvenal, "Satires," vii. 166.
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
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 behavior, 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 humor 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 Etherege, 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, he 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
humors, 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
beauty, insomuch that it is reported he has frequently offended with beggars
and gypsies; 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 behavior, 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 upstairs 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.
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 humorsome 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
neighborhood; 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, but not one
case in the reports of our own courts. No one ever took him for a fool; but
none, except his intimate friends, know he has a great deal of wit. This turn
makes him at once both disinterested and agreeable. As few of his thoughts are
drawn from business, they are most of them fit for conversation. His taste for
books is a little too just for the age he lives in; he has read all, but
approves of very few. His familiarity with the customs, manners, actions, and
writings of the ancients, makes him a very delicate observer of what occurs to
him in the present world. He is an excellent critic, and the time of the play
is his hour of business; exactly at five he passes through New - inn, crosses
through Russell - court, and takes a turn at Will`s till the play begins; he
has his shoes rubbed and his periwig powdered at the barber`s as you go into
the Rose. It is for the good of the audience when he is at the play, for the
actors have an ambition to please him.
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 barbarous 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 valor, and that sloth has ruined more nations than
the sword. He abounds in several frugal maxims, amongst which the greatest
favorite 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 clubroom 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 engagements and
at several sieges; but having a small estate of his own, and being next heir
to Sir Roger, he has quitted a way of life in which no man can rise suitably
to his merit, who is not something of a courtier as well as a soldier. I have
heard him often lament that, in a profession where merit is placed in so
conspicuous a view, impudence should get the better of modesty. When he has
talked to this purpose, I never heard him make a sour expression, but frankly
confess that he left the world because he was not fit for it. A strict honesty
and an even regular behavior are in themselves obstacles to him that must
press through crowds, who endeavor at the same end with himself, the favor of
a commander. He will, however, in his way of talk excuse generals for not
disposing according to men`s dessert, or inquiring into it; for, says he, that
great man who has a mind to help me has as many to break through to come to me
as I have to come at him: therefore he will conclude that the man who would
make a figure, especially in a military way, must get over all false modesty,
and assist his patron against the 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 candor 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 an habit of obeying men highly above
him.
But that our society may not appear a set of humorists,^2 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 had this manner of
curling their hair, that way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered
by such a sort of a petticoat, and whose vanity to show her foot made that
part of the dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and
knowledge have been in the female world. As other men of his age will take
notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an occasion, he
will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court, such a woman was then
smitten, another was taken with him at the head of his troop in the park. In
all these important relations, he has ever about the same time received a kind
glance, or a blow of a fan from some celebrated beauty, mother of the present
Lord Such - a - one. If you speak of a young commoner that said a lively thing
in the House, he starts up, "He has good blood in his veins; Tom Mirable begot
him; the rogue cheated me in that affair; that young fellow`s mother used me
more like a dog than any woman I ever made advances to." This way of talking
of his very much enlivens the conversation among us of a more sedate turn, and
I find there is not one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all,
but speaks of him as of that sort of a man who is usually called a well - bred
fine gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concerned, he
is an honest worthy man.
[Footnote 2: Whimsical characters.]
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.
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