resolved to observe an exact neutrality between the Whigs and Tories,17 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 5 in this paper.

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 10 adventures, I shall insert them in following papers, as I shall see occasion. In the meantime, 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 15 the fullness 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 20 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 25 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 18 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 anything that is reasonable; 5 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 10 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 15 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.

After having been thus particular upon myself, 20 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 25 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,1o in Little Britain.20 For I must further acquaint the reader, that though our club meets only on Tuesdays and

Thursdays, we have appointed a committee to sit every night for the inspection of all such papers as may contribute to the advancement of the public

wear.

No. 2. The Club

SPECTATOR No. 2. Friday, March 2, 1710–11

Ast alii sex,

Et plures, uno conclamant ore — 1

3

4

Juv. Sat. vii. 167.

THE first of our society 2 is a gentleman of Wor- 5 cestershire, of an ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His great grandfather was inventor of that famous country-dance 5 which is called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts and merits 10 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 15 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. said, he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next country to him. Before this disappointment,

It is 20

8

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Sir Roger was what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester 7 and Sir George Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked bully Dawson in a 5 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 10 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 10 twelve times since he first wore it. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, 15 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 20 profess to love 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 11; that he fills 25 the chair at a quarter-session 12 with great abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause, by explaining a passage in the game-act.13

The gentleman next in esteem and authority among us is another bachelor, who is a member of

the Inner Temple,14 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, 5 and is the most learned of any of the house in those of the stage. Aristotle 15 and Longinus 16 are much better understood by him than Littleton 17 or Coke.18 The father sends up every post questions relating to marriage-articles, leases and tenures, in the 10 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 15 of each of the orations of Demosthenes 19 and Tully,20 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.21 This turn makes him at once both disinter- 20 ested 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 25 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 22 is his