ADVERTISEMENT. IN presenting to the American public this new edition of the writings of Joseph Addison, the publishers hold it altogether superfluous and unnecessary to say anything in commendation of the works themselves, or make any reference to the established and increasing celebrity of the author. That celebrity has been deliberately conferred by a succession of generations, and the name of Addison is permanently enrolled among the brightest that adorned the Augustan age of English literature. A few words, however, of comment upon the peculiar advantages of this edition may be permitted, it is hoped, if on no other ground, at least as showing the anxiety of the publishers to provide the community with the best which they can obtain, and the most suited to gratify the wants and wishes of every reader. The superiority of this edition over any heretofore published in this country, or, indeed, in England, consists in its convenience of form, its low price, its accuracy, its neatness of mechanical execution, and, above all, its completeness. It comprises not only all the essays, letters, poems, criticisms, tales, descriptions, and dramatic works of Addison, but also the whole of the Spectator; this last being a new and very useful arrangement, inasmuch as many of the finest essays, narratives, and characters in that admirable series were contributed jointly by Addison and others. The delightful character of Sir Roger de Coverley, for instance, was frequently taken up by Steele; and the pens of Steele, Budgell, and several others of the contributors, were quite as often employed in the beautiful papers relating to "The Club" as was that of Addison. It is evident that, by separating those of the latter from the others, as has been done in former editions of his works, the continuity of the story is destroyed and the pleasure of the reader materially diminished. In this point of view alone the edition now offered must be considered vastly preferable. Care has been taken, nevertheless, to designate not only the papers contributed by Addison, but also those furnished by each of the other writers; and in all other respects the edition of the Spectator comprised within these volumes is as complete and perfect as any ever published. The publishers have only to add the expression of their hope, that the favour of the public to this undertaking may be such as shall encourage them to the production of other English classics, in a corresponding style of excellence, literary and mechanical. THE SPECTATOR. No. 1.] Thursday, March 1, 1710-11. Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem 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 exercises of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of an hundred words; and indeed 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. 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.* 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, mar-do not remember that I ever spoke three ried 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 hundred 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 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 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 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 Change alley, 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. C. looker-on, which is the character I intend to preserve in this paper. Ast alii sex Et plures, uno conclamant ore.-Juv. Sat. vii. 167. I have given the reader just so much of 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 THE first of cur society is a gentleman of consider how much I have seen, read, and Worcestershire, of an ancient descent, a heard, I begin to blame my own tacitur- barcnet, 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. 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, I 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 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 Sohosquare. It is said, he keeps himself a * Sobo-square was at that time the genteelest part of the town. The handsome house, built by the unfor tunate Duke of Monmouth, occupied, until the year buildings now stand. 1773, the whole of the ground on which Bateman's 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, 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 coffeehouse for calling him youngster. But being ill used by the abovementioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a half; 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 offended in point of chastity with beggars and gypsies: but this is looked upon, by his friends, rather as a matter of raillery than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty; kecps 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 debanchee about town, at the time here pointed out; he was well known in Blackfriars and its then infa. mous purlieus. the good of the audience when he is at a 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 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 |