he is sure to find some who are; so that if | clubs with an eye of contempt, and talks he be disposed to take a whet, a nooning, even of the Kit-Cat and October as of a an evening's draught, or a bottle after couple of upstarts. Their ordinary dismidnight, he goes to the club, and finds a course, (as much as I have been able to knot of friends to his mind. learn of it) turns altogether upon such adIt is a maxim in this club, that the stew-ventures as have passed in their own asard never dies; for as they succeed one an-sembly; of members who have taken the other by way of rotation, no man is to quit the great elbow-chair which stands at the upper-end of the table, till his successor is in readiness to fill it: insomuch that there has not been a sede vacante in the memory of man.

glass in their turns for a week together, without stirring out of the club; of others who have smoked an hundred pipes at a sitting; of others, who have not missed their morning's draught for twenty years together. Sometimes they speak in raptures of a run of ale in king Charles's reign; and sometimes reflect with astonishment upon games at whist, which have been miraculously recovered by members of the society, when in all human probability the case was desperate.

This club was instituted towards the end (or as some of them say, about the middle) of the civil wars, and continued without interruption till the time of the great fire,* which burnt them out, and dispersed them for several weeks. The steward at that time maintained his post till he had like to have been blown up with a neighbouring house, (which was demolished in order to stop the fire;) and would not leave the chair at last, till he had emptied all the bottles upon the table, and received re-ture. peated directions from the Club to withdraw himself. This steward is frequently talked of in the club, and looked upon by every member of it as a greater man than the famous captain mentioned in my lord Clarendon, who was burnt in his ship because he would not quit it without orders. It is said, that towards the close of 1700, being the great year of jubilee, the club had it under consideration whether they should break up or continue their session; but after many speeches and debates, it was at length agreed to sit out the other No. 73.] Thursday, May 24, 1711. century. This resolution was passed in a general club nemine contradicente.

They delight in several old catches, which they sing at all hours, to encourage one another to moisten their clay, and grow immortal by drinking; with many other edifying exhortations of the like na

There are four general clubs held in a year, at which times they fill up vacancies, appoint waiters, confirm the old firemaker, or elect a new one, settle contributions for coals, pipes, tobacco, and other necessaries.

The senior member has outlived the whole club twice over, and has been drunk with the grandfathers of some of the sent sitting members.

-O Dea certe!

pre

Virg. En. i. 328. O goddess! for no less you seem. Having given this short account of the IT is very strange to consider, that a institution and continuation of the Ever-creature like man, who is sensible of so lasting Club, I should here endeavour to many weaknesses and imperfections, should say something of the manners and charac- be actuated by a love of fame: that vice ters of its several members, which I shall and ignorance, imperfection and misery, do according to the best lights I have re- should contend for praise, and endeavour as much as possible to make themselves objects of admiration.

ceived in this matter.

It appears by their books in general, that since their first institution, they have But notwithstanding man's essential persmoked fifty tons of tobacco, drank thirty fection is but very little, his comparative thousand butts of ale, one thousand hogs- perfection may be very considerable. If he heads of red port, two hundred barrels of looks upon himself in an abstracted light, brandy, and a kilderkin of small beer. he has not much to boast of; but if he conThere has been likewise a great consump-siders himself with regard to others, he tion of cards. It is also said, that they ob- may find occasion of glorying, if not in his serve the law in Ben Jonson's club,† which own virtues, at least in the absence of anorders the fire to be always kept in (focus other's imperfections. This gives a difperennis esto) as well for the convenience ferent turn to the reflections of the wise of lighting their pipes, as to cure the damp-man and the fool. The first endeavours to ness of the club-room. They have an old shine in himself, and the last to outshine woman in the nature of a vestal, whose others. The first is humbled by the sense business it is to cherish and perpetuate the fire, which burns from generation to generation, and has seen the glass-house fires in and out above an hundred times.

of his own infirmities, the last is lifted up by the discovery of those which he observes in other men. The wise man considers what he wants, and the fool what he abounds in. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation, and the fool when he recommends himself to the applause of those about him.

But however unreasonable and absurd this passion for admiration may appear in such a creature as man, it is not wholly to be discouraged; since it often produces very good effects, not only as it restrains him from doing any thing which is mean and contemptible, but as it pushes him to actions which are great and glorious. The principle may be defective or faulty, but the consequences it produces are so good, that for the benefit of mankind, it ought not to be extinguished.

It is observed by Cicero, that men of the greatest and the most shining parts are the most actuated by ambition; and if we look into the two sexes, I believe we shall find this principle of action stronger in women than in men.

smiles make men happy; their frowns drive them to despair. I shall only add under this head, that Ovid's book of the Art of Love is a kind of heathen ritual, which contains all the forms of worship which are made use of to an idol.

when they refuse to comply with the prayers that are offered to them.

It would be as difficult a task to reckon up these different kinds of idols, as Milton's was to number those that were known in Canaan, and the lands adjoining. Most of them are worshipped like Moloch in fires and flames. Some of them, like Baal, love to see their votaries cut and slashed, and a shedding their blood for them. Some of them, like the idol in the Apocrypha, must have treats and collations prepared for them every night. It has indeed been known, that some of them have been used The passion for praise, which is so very by their incensed worshippers like the Chivehement in the fair sex, produces excel-nese idols, who are whipped and scourged lent effects in women of sense, who desire to be admired for that only which deserves admiration; and I think we may observe, without a compliment to them, that many of them do not only live in a more uniform course of virtue, but with an infinitely greater regard to their honour, than what we find in the generality of our own sex. How many instances have we of chastity, fidelity, devotion! How many ladies distinguish themselves by the education of their children, care of their families, and love of their husbands, which are the great qualities and achievements of womankind! as the making of war, the carrying on of traffic, the administration of justice, are those by which men grow famous, and get them-at a table with three of her votaries about selves a name.

I must here observe that those idolaters who devote themselves to the idols I am here speaking of, differ very much from all other kinds of idolaters. For as others fall out because they worship different idols, these idolaters quarrel because they worship the same.

The intention therefore of the idol is quite contrary to the wishes of the idolater: as the one desires to confine the idol to himself, the whole business and ambition of the other is to multiply adorers. This humour of an idol is prettily described in a tale of Chaucer. He represents one of them sitting

her, who are all of them courting her favour, and paying their adorations. She smiled upon one, drank to another, and trod upon the other's foot which was under the table. Now which of these three, says the old bard, do you think was the favourite? In troth, says he, not one of all the three.

But as this passion for admiration, when it works according to reason, improves the beautiful part of our species in every thing that is laudable; so nothing is more destructive to them when it is governed by vanity and folly. What I have therefore here to say, only regards the vain part of the sex, The behaviour of this old idol in Chaucer, whom for certain reasons, which the reader puts me in mind of the beautiful Clarinda, will hereafter see at large, I shall distin- one of the greatest idols among the moderns. guish by the name of idols. An idol is She is worshipped once a week by candlewholly taken up in the adorning of her per-light, in the midst of a large congregation, son. You see in every posture of her body, air of her face, and motion of her head, that it is her business and employment to gain adorers. For this reason your idols appear in all public places and assemblies, in order to seduce men to their worship. The playhouse is very frequently filled with idols; several of them are carried in procession every evening about the ring, and several of them set up their worship even in churches. They are to be accosted in the language proper to the deity. Life and death are in their power: joys of heaven and pains of hell, are at their disposal; paradise is in their arms, and eternity in every moment that you are present with them. Raptures, transports, and ecstacies are the rewards which they confer; sighs and tears, prayers and broken hearts, are the offerings which are paid to them. Their

generally called an assembly. Some of the
gayest youths in the nation endeavour to
plant themselves in her eye, while she sits
in form with multitudes of tapers burning
about her. To encourage the zeal of her
idolaters, she bestows a mark of her favour
upon every one of them, before they go out
of her presence. She asks a question of one,
tells a story to another, glances an ogle
upon a third, takes a pinch of snuff from
the fourth, lets her fan drop by accident to
give the fifth an occasion of taking it up.
In short, every one goes away satisfied with 3
his success, and encouraged to renew his
devotions on the same canonical hour that
day seven-night.

An idol may be undeified by many accidental causes. Marriage in particular is a kind of counter-apotheosis, or a deification inverted.-When a man becomes familiar

1

with his goddess, she quickly sinks into a

woman.

Old age is likewise a great decayer of your idol. The truth of it is, there is not a more unhappy being than a superannuated idol, especially when she has contracted such airs and behaviour as are only graceful when her worshippers are about her.

Considering therefore that in these and many other cases the woman generally outlives the idol, I must return to the moral of this paper, and desire my fair readers to give a proper direction to their passion for being admired; in order to which, they must endeavour to make themselves the objects of a reasonable and lasting admiration. This is not to be hoped for from beauty, or dress, or fashion, but from those inward ornaments which are not to be defaced by time or sickness, and which appear most amiable to those who are most acquainted with them. C.

The works unfinish'd and neglected lie.

In my last Monday's paper I gave some general instances of those beautiful strokes which please the reader in the old song of Chevy-Chase; I shall here, according to my promise, be more particular, and show that the sentiments in that ballad are extremely natural and poetical, and full of the majestic simplicity which we admire in the greatest of the ancient poets: for which reason I shall quote several passages of it, in which the thought is altogether the same with what we meet in several passages of the Eneid; not that I would infer from thence that the poet (whoever he was) proposed to himself any imitation of those passages, but that he was directed to them in general by the same kind of poetical genius, and by the same copyings after

nature.

Had this old song been filled with epigrammatical turns and points of wit, it might perhaps have pleased the wrong taste of some readers; but it would never have become the delight of the common people, nor have warmed the heart of Sir Philip Sidney like the sound of a trumpet; it is only nature that can have this effect, and please those tastes which are the most unprejudiced, or the most refined. I must however beg leave to dissent from so great an authority as that of Sir Philip Sidney, in the judgment which he has passed as to the rude style and evil apparel of this antiquated song; for there are several parts in it where not only the thought but the language is majestic, and the numbers sonorous; at least the apparel is much more gorgeous than many of the poets made use of in Queen Elizabeth's time, as the reader

This way of considering the misfortunes
which this battle would bring upon pos-
terity, not only on those who were born im-
mediately after the battle, and lost their
fathers in it, but on those also who perished
in future battles which took their rise from
this quarrel of the two earls, is wonderfully
beautiful, and conformable to the way of
thinking among the ancient poets.
Audiet pugnas vitio parentum

Rara juventus.
Hor. Lib. 1. Od. ii. 23.
Posterity, thinn'd by their fathers' crimes,
Shall read, with grief, the story of their times.
What can be more sounding and poetical,
or resemble more the majestic simplicity of
the ancients, than the following stanzas?

'The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,

His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summers' days to take.

'With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might,

Who knew full well, in time of need

To aim their shafts aright.

"The hounds ran swiftly through the woods
The nimble deer to take,

And with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.'

-Vocat ingenti clamore Citharon,
Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum:
Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit.
Georg. iii. 43.

Citharon loudly calls me to my way;
Thy hounds, Taygetus, open, and pursue the prey:
High Epidaurus urges on my speed,

Fam'd for his hills, and for his horses' breed:
From hills and dales the cheerful cries rebound;
For Echo hunts along and propagates the sound.
Dryden.

'Lo yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears,
All marching in our sight.

All men of pleasant Tividale,

Fast by the river Tweed,' &c.

The country of the Scotch warriors, de-
scribed in these two last verses, has a fine
romantic situation, and affords a couple of
smooth words for verse. If the reader com-
pares the foregoing six lines of the song
with the following Latin verses, he will see
how much they are written in the spirit of
Virgil:

Adversi campo apparent, hastasque reductis
Protendunt longe dextris; et spicula vibrant:-
Quique altum Præneste viri, quique arva Gabine
Junonis, gelidumque Anienem, et roscida rivis
Hernica saxa colunt:-qui rosea rura Velini,
Qui Tetrica horrentes rupes, montemque Severum,
Casperiamque colunt, Forulosque, et flumen Himelle:
Qui Tiberim Fabarimque bibunt.-

En. xi. 605-vii. 682, 712.

Advancing in a line, they couch their spears-
-Præneste sends a chosen band,
With those who plow Saturnia's Gabine land:
Besides the succours which cold Anien yields;

Then how like a man of the town, so wild considering what sort of figure a man and gay is that!

It would have been a very wild endeavour for a man of my temper to offer any opposition to so nimble a speaker as my fair enemy is; but her discourse gave me very many reflections, when I had left her company. Among others, I could not but consider with some attention, the false impressions the generality (the fair sex more especially) have of what should be intended, when they say 'a fine gentleman;' and could not help revolving that subject by the sense of virtue, has the same effect in my thoughts, and settling, as it were, an idea of that character in my own imagina