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knows the argument of each of the orations of Demosthenes and Tully, but not one case in the reports of our own courts. 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 of 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 Russel-Court, and takes a turn at Will's till the play begins : be has his shoes rubbed and his perriwig powdered at the barber's as you go into the Rose.' It is for 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
| The Rose stood at the end of a passage in Russell Street, ndjoining the theatre ; which then, be it remembered, faced Drury Lane. It was here that on the 12th November, 1712, the seconds on either side arranged the duel fought the next day by the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun, in which both were killed
? "To Sir Roger, who as a country gentleman appears to be a Tory; or, as it is generally expressed, an adherent to the landed interest, is opposed to Sir Andrew Freeport, a new man and a wealthy merchant, zealous for the money'd interest, and a Whig. Of this contrariety of opinions more consequences were at first intended than could be produced when the resolution was taken to exclude party from the paper.”—Dr. Johnson's Life of Addison.
No one has ventured to name originals either for the Templar or Sir Andrew Freeport —*
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 Com.
He is acquainted with commerce in all its parts, and will tell
you 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 fortunes him. self; 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
Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room sits Captain Sentry, a gentleman of great courage, and understanding, but invincible modesty.' He is one of those that deserve very well, but are very aukward at putting their talents within the observation of such as should take notice of them. He was some years a cap. tain, and behaved himself with great gallantry in several engage.
| This character, heir to Sir Roger, is said—with no more probability than attaches to the imagined origin of the others—to have been copied from Col. Kempenfeldt, father of the Admiral who was drowned in the Royal George when it went down to Spithead in 1782. The conjecture probably had no other foundation—a very frail one-than an culogium on the colonel's character in Captain Sentry's letter to the club, announcing his induction into Sir Roger's estate, which forms the last of the Coverloy papers.
ments 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 behaviour, are in themselves obstacles to him that must press through crowds, who endeavour 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 desert, 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 at 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 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 among us the gallant Will. Honeycomb,' a gentleman who, ac
1 Col. Cleland of the Life Guards has been named as the real person
cording 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 very little impression, either by wrinkles on his forehead, or traces in his brain. His person is well turned, 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 petticoat, and whose vanity to shew her foot made that part of the dress so short in such a year : in a word, all his conversation and knowledge has 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 Mirabel 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 man who
here described: but, as in the former instances, the supposition is ill supported.
is usually called a well-bred fine gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concer
erned, he is an honest worthy man.
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 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 interests 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. — (STEELE.)
. Though this paper, in former editions, is not marked with any letter of the word CLIO, by which Mr. Addison distinguished his performances, it was thought necessary to insert it, as containing characters of the several persons mentioned in the whole course of this work.-T.
(The characters were concerted with Mr. Addison; and the draught of them, in this paper, I suppose touched by him.)-H.
A supposition altogether gratuitous, or rather founded upon the commentator's unjustifiable dislike of Steele.-G.