Interdum vulgus rectum videt

the like nature; that our climate of itself, and No. 70.] Monday, May 21, 1711.
without the assistance of art, can make no far-
ther advances towards a plum, than to a sloe,
Hor. Lib. ii. Ep. i. 83
and carries an apple to no greater perfection
Sometimes the vulgar see and judge aright.
than a crab; that our melons, our peaches, our
figs, our apricots, and cherries, are strangers WHEN I travelled, I took a particular delight
among us, imported in different ages, and in hearing the songs and fables that are come
naturalized in our English gardens; and that from father to son, and are most in vogue
they would all degenerate and fall away into the among the common people of the countries
trash of our own country, if they were wholly through which I passed; for it is impossible
neglected by the planter, and left to the mercy that any thing should be universally tasted and
of our sun and soil. Nor has traffic more en-approved by a multitude, though they are only
riched our vegetable world, than it has improv-the rabble of a nation, which hath not in it
ed the whole face of nature among us. Our some peculiar aptness to please and gratify the
ships are laden with the harvest of every cli- mind of man. Human nature is the same in
mate. Our tables are stored with spices, and all reasonable creatures; and whatever falls in
oils, and wines. Our rooms are filled with with it, will meet with admirers amongst rea-
pyramids of China, and adorned with the ders of all qualities and conditions. Moliere,
workmanship of Japan. Our morning's draught as we are told by Monsieur Boileau, used to
comes to us from the remotest corners of the read all his comedies to an old woman who was
earth. We repair our bodies by the drugs of his house-keeper, as she sat with him at her
America, and repose ourselves under Indian work by the chimney-corner; and could fore-
canopies. My friend Sir Andrew calls the vine-tell the success of his play in the theatre, from
yards of France our gardens; the spice-islands, the reception it met with at his fire-side; for
our hot-beads; the Persians, our silk-weavers, he tells us the audience always followed the
and the Chinese, our potters. Nature indeed old woman, and never failed to laugh in the
furnishes us with the bare necessaries of life, same place.
but traffic gives us a great variety of what is
useful, and at the same time supplies us with
every thing that is convenient and ornamental.
Nor is it the least part of this our happiness,
that whilst we enjoy the romotest products of
the north and south, we are free from those
extremities of weather which gives them birth;
that our eyes are refreshed with the green fields
of Britain, at the same time that our palates
are feasted with fruits that rise between the
trophies.

I know nothing which more shows the essential and inherent perfection of simplicity of thought, above that which I call the Gothic manner of writing, than this-that the first pleases all kinds of palates, and the latter only such as are formed to themselves a wrong artificial taste upon little fanciful authors and writers of epigrams. Homer, Virgil, or Milton, so far as the language of their poems is understood, will please a reader of plain common sense, who would neither relish nor comFor these reasons there are not more useful prehend an epigram of Martial, or a poem of members in a commonwealth than merchants. Cowley; so, on the contrary, an ordinary song They knit mankind together in a mutual in-or ballad that is the delight of the common peotercourse of good offices, distribute the gifts ple, cannot fail to please all such readers as of nature, find work for the poor, add wealth are not unqualified for the entertainment by to the rich, and magnificence to the great. Our English merchant converts the tin of his own country into gold, and exchanges its wool for rubies. The Mahometans are clothed in our British manufacture, and the inhabitants of the frozen zone warmed with the fleeces of our sheep.

their affectation or ignorance; and the reason
is plain, because the same paintings of na-
ture, which recommend it to the most ordi-
nary reader, will appear beautiful to the most
refined.

The old song of Chevy-Chase is the favourite ballad of the common people of England, and When I have been upon the 'Change, I have Ben Johnson used to say, he had rather have often fancied one of our old kings standing in been the author of it than of all his works. Sir person, where he is represented in effigy, and Philip Sidney, in his discourse of poetry, looking down upon the wealthy concourse of speaks of it in the following words: 'I never people with which that place is every day filled.heard the old song of Percy and Douglass, that In this case, how would he be surprised to hear I found not my heart more moved than with a all the languages of Europe spoken in this lit-trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind tle spot of his former dominions, and to see so crowder with no rougher voice than rude style, many private men, who in his time would have which being so evil apparelled in the dust and been the vassals of some powerful baron, nego-cobweb of that uncivil age, what would it work tiating like princes for greater sums of money trimmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar?' than were formerly to be met with in the royal For my own part, I am so professed an admirtreasury! Trade, without enlarging the British er of this antiquated song, that I shall give my territories, has given us a kind of additional reader a critique upon it, without any further empire. It has multiplied the number of the apology for so doing.* rich, made our landed estates infinitely more valuable than they were formerly, and added to them an accession of other estates as valuable as the lands themselves. C.

admired by Sir Philip Sidney and Ben Jonson, was not * Mr. Addison was not aware that the old song so much the same as that which he here so elegantly criticises, and which, in Dr. Percey's opinion, cannot be older than the time of Elizabeth; and was probably written after the eulogium of Sir Philiy Sidney, or in consequence of it.

Like tidings to King Henry came
Within as short a space,
That Percy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy-Chase.

'Now God be with him, said our king,
Sith 'twill no better be,

I trust I have within my realm
Five hundred as good as he.

Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say,
But I will vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all
For brave Lord Percy's sake.

The greatest modern critics have laid it down as a rule, That an beroic poem should be founded upon some important precept of morality, adapted to the constitution of the Country in which the poet writes. Homer and Virgil have formed their plans in this view. As Greece was a collection of many governments, who suffered very much among themselves, and gave the Persian emperor, who was their common enemy, many advantages over them by their mutual jealousies and animosities, Homer, in order to establish among them an union which was so necessary for their safety, grounds his poem upon the discords of the several Grecian princes who were engaged in a confederacy against an Asiatic prince, and the several advantages which the enemy gained by such discords. At the time the poem we are now treating of was written, the dissén- At the same time that our poet shows a laudtions of the barons, who were then so many able partiality to his countrymen, he represents petty princes, ran very high, whether they the Scots after a manner not unbecoming so quarrelled among themselves, or with their bold and brave a people:

neighbours, and produced unspeakable calam-
ities to the country. The poet, to deter men
from such unnatural contentions, describes a
bloody battle and dreadful scene of death, oc-
casioned by the mutual feuds which reigned in
the families of an English and Scotch noble-
man, That he designed this for the instruction
of his poem, we may learn from his four last
Imes, in which, after the example of the mo-
dern tragedians, he draws from it a precept
for the benefit of his readers:

God save the king, and bless the land
In plenty, joy, and peace;
And grant henceforth that foul debate
'Twixt noblemen may cease.'

The next point observed by the greatest heroic poets, hath been to celebrate persons and actions which do honour to their country: thus Virgil's hero was the founder of Rome, Homer's a prince of Greece; and for this reason Valerius Flaccus, and Statius. who were both Romans, might be justly derided for having chosen the expedition of the Golden Fleece, and the wars of Thebes, for the subjects of their epic writings.

This vow full well the king perform'd
After on Humble-down,
In one day fifty knights were slain,
With lords of great renown.

'And of the rest of small account
Did many thousands die,' &c.

Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of the company,

Whose armour shone like gold.'

His sentiments and actions are every way suit-
able to an hero. One of us two, says he, must
die. I am an earl as well as yourself, so that
you can have no pretence for refusing the com-
bat: however, says he, it is pity, and indeed
would be a sin, that so many innocent men
should perish for our sakes, rather let you and
I end our quarrel in single fight:

Ere thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two shall die;

I know thee well, an earl thou art,
Lord Percy, so am I.

But trust me, Percy, pity it were,
And great offence, to kill
Any of these our harmless men,
For they have done no ill.

'Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside;
Accurst be he, Lord Percy said,

By whom it is deny'd.'"

The poet before us has not only found out an When these brave men had distinguished bero in his own country, but raises the reputa- themselves in the battle, and in single combat tion of it by several beautiful incidents. The with each other, in the midst of a generous parEnglish are the first who take the field, and the ley, full of heroic sentiments, the Scotch earl last who quit it. The English bring only fif- falls; and with his dying words encourages his teen hundred to the battle, the Scotch two men, to revenge his death, representing to thousand. The English keep the field with them, as the most bitter circumstance of it, fifty-three; the Scotch retire with fifty-five: that his rival saw him fall:

all the rest on each side being slain in battle. But the most remarkable circumstance of this kind is the different manner in which the Scotch and English kings receive the news of this fight, and of the great men's deaths who commanded in it :

This news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's king did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an arrow slain.

O heavy news, King James did say,
Scotland can witness be,

I have not any captain more
Of such account as he.

With that there came an arrow keen

Out of an English bow,

Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart
A deep and deadly blow.

Who never spoke more words than these-
Fight on my merry-men all,
For why, my life is at an end,
Lord Percy sees my fall.'

Merry-men in the language of those times, is
no more than a cheerful word for companions
and fellow-soldiers. A passage in the eleventh
book of Virgil's Eneid is very much to be ad-
mired, where Camilla, in her last agonies, in-
stead of weeping over the wound she had re-

[No. 71.

ceived, as one might have expected from a attempt to regulate them. But there is a third
warrior of her sex, considers only (like the thing which may contribute not only to the
hero of whom we are now speaking) how the
battle should be continued after her death:

Tum sic expirans Accam ex æqualibus unam
Alloquitur; fida ante alias quæ sola Camillæ.
Quicum partiri curas; atque hæc ita fatur:
Hactenus, Acca soror, potui: nunc vulnus acerbum
Conficit, et tenebris nigrescunt omnia circum:
Effuge, et hæc Turno mandata novissima perfer;
Succedat pugnæ, Trojanosque arceat urbe:
Jamque vale.
En. xi. 820.

A gathering mist o'er clouds her cheerful eyes;
And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies,
Then turns to her, whom, of her female train,
She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:
Acca, 'tis past! he swims before my sight,
Inexorable death; and claims his right.
Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed,
And bid him timely to my charge succeed,'
Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:
Farewell.

Dryden.

Turnus did not die in so heroic a manner; though our poet seems to have had his eye upon Turnus's speech in the last verse:

'Lord Percy sees my fall.'

Vicisti, et victum tendere palmas
Ausonii vidère
Æn. xii. 936.

The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life.
Dryden.

Earl Percy's lamentation over his enemy is generous, beautiful, and passionate: I must only caution the reader not to let the simplicity of the style, which one may well pardon in so old a poet, prejudice him against the greatness of the thought:

Then leaving life, Earl Percy took
The dead man by the hand,
And said, Earl Douglas, for thy life
Would I had lost my land.

'O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more renowned knight
Mischance did never take.'

The beautiful line, Taking the dead man by
the hand,' will put the reader in mind of
Eneas's behaviour towards Lausus, whom he
himself had slain as he came to the rescue of
his aged father:

At verò ut vultum vidit morientis, et ora,
Ora modis Anchisiades pallentia miris;
Ingemuit, miserans graviter, dextramque tetendit.
En. x. 822.

The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead;
He griev'd, he wept, then grasp' his hand and said, &c.
Dryden.

I shall take another opportunity to consider the other parts of this old song.

C.

ease, but also to the pleasure of our life; and that is refining our passions to a greater elegance than we receive them from nature. When the passion is love, this work is performed in innocent, though rude and uncultivated minds, by the mere force and dignity of the object. There are forms which naturally create respect in the beholders, and at once inflame and chastise the imagination. Such an impression as this gives an immediate ambition to deserve, in order to please. This cause and effect are beautifully described by Mr. Dryden in the fable of Cymon and Iphigenia. After he has represented Cymon se stupid, that

'He whistled as he went for want of thought;'

'It happen'd on a summer's holiday,
That to the greenwood-shade he took his way;
His quarter-staff, which he could ne'er forsake,
Hung half before, and half behind his back.
He trudg'd along, unknowing what he sought,
And whistled as he went for want of thought.

By chance conducted, or by thirst constrain'd,
The deep recesses of the grove he gain'd;
Where in a plain, defended by the wood,
Crept through the matted grass a crystal flood,
By which an alabaster fountain stood:
And on the margin of the fount was laid
(Attended by her slaves) a sleeping maid,
Like Dian and her nymphs, when tir'd with sport,
To rest by cool Eurotas they resort:
The dame herself the goddess well express'd,
Not more distinguish'd by her purple vest,
Than by the charming features of her face.
And e'en in slumber a superior grace:
Her comely limbs compos'd with decent care,
Her body shaded with a slight cymar;
Her bosom to the view was only bare:
The fanning wind upon her bosom blows;
To meet the fanning wind her bosom rose;
The fanning wind and purling streams continue her

repose.

The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes,
And gaping mouth, that testify'd surprise;
Fix'd on her face, nor could remove his sight,
New as he was to love, and novice in delight:
Long mute he stood, and leaning on his staff,
His wonder witness'd with an idiot laugh;
Then would have spoke, but by his glimm'ring sense
First found his want of words, and fear'd offence:
Doubted for what he was he should be known,
By his clown-accent, and his country-tone.'

But lest this fine description should be exmaster Mr. Dryden, and not on account of cepted against, as the creation of that great what has really ever happened in the world, I shall give you verbatim, the epistle of an enamoured footman in the country to his mistress. Their sirnames shall not be inserted, because their passions demand a greater respect than is due to their quality. James is servant in a great family, and Elizabeth waits upon the daughter of one as numerous, some Love bade me write. miles off her lover. James, before he beheld. THE entire conquest of our passions is so ler, and quarrelsome cudgel-player; Betty a Betty, was vain of his strength, a rough wrestdifficult a work, that they who despair of it public dancer at may-poles, a romp at stoolshould think of a less difficult task, and only ball: he always following idle women,

No. 71.]

Tuesday, May 22, 1711.
Scribere jussit amor.

Ovid. Ep. iv. 10.

she

playing among the peasants: he a country |

Poor James! since his time and paper were bully, she a country coquette. But love has so short, I that have more than I can use well made her constantly in her mistress's cham- of both, will put the sentiments of this kind ber, where the young lady gratifies a secret letter (the style of which seems to be confused passion of her own, by making Betty talk of with scraps he had got in hearing and reading James; and James is become a constant wai- what he did not understand) into what he ter near his master's apartment, in reading, meant to express. as well as he can, romances. I cannot learn who Molly is, who it seems walked ten miles to carry the angry message, which gave occasion to what follows:

'MY DEAR BETTY,

May 14, 1711

Remember your bleeding lover, who lies bleeding at the wounds Cupid made with the arrows he borrowed at the eyes of Venus, which is your sweet person.

Nay more, with the token you sent me for my love and service offered to your sweet person; which was your base respects to my ill conditions; when, alas! there is no ill conditions in me, but quite contrary; all love and purity, especially to your sweet person; but all this I take as a jest.

DEAR CREATURE,

"Can you then neglect him who has forget all his recreations and enjoyments to pine away his life in thinking of you? When I do so, you appear more amiable to me than Venus does in the most beautiful description that ever was made of her. All this kindness you return with an accusation, that I do not love you: but the contrary is so manifest, that I cannot think you in earnest. But the certainty given me in your message by Molly, that you do not love me, is what robs me of all comfort. She says you will not see me: if you can have so much cruelty, at least write to me, that I may kiss the impression made by your fair hand. I love you above all things, and, in my condition, what you look upon with indifference is to me the most exquisite pleasure or pain. Our young lady and a fine gentleman from London, who are to marry for mercenary ends, walk about 'For she told me, if I came forty times to our gardens, and hear the voice of evening you, you would not speak with me, which nightingales, as if for fashion sake they courted words I am sure is a great grief to me. those solitudes, because they have heard lovers 'Now, my dear, if I may not be permitted do so. Oh, Betty! could I hear those rivulets to your sweet company, and to have the hap-murmur, and birds sing, while you stood near piness of speaking with your sweet person, I me, how little sensible should I be that we are beg the favour of you to accept of this my se- both servants, that there is any thing on earth cret mind and thoughts, which hath so long above us! Oh! I could write to you as long as lodged in my breast, the which if you do not I love you, till death itself. accept, I believe will go nigh to break my heart.

'But the sad and dismal news which Molly brought me struck me to the heart, which was, it seems, and is, your ill conditions for my love and respects to you.

'For indeed, my dear, I love you above all the beauties I ever saw in all my life.

'The young gentleman, and my master's daughter, the Londoner that is come down to marry her, sat in the arbour most part of last night. Oh, dear Betty, must the nightingales sing to those who marry for money, and not to us true lovers! Oh, my dear Betty, that we could meet this night where we used to do in the wood!'

'Now, my dear, if I may not have the blessing of kissing your sweet lips, I beg I may have the happiness of kissing your fair hand, with a few lines from your dear self, presented by whom you please or think fit. I believe, if time would permit me, I could write all day; but the time being short, and paper little, no more from your neverfailing lover till death,

'JAMES

The writer of this loving epistle was James Hirst, a servant to the Hon. Edward Wortley, esq. In delivering amber of letters to his master, he gave him, by mistake, this which he had just written to his sweetheart, and in its stead kept one of his master's. James soon discovered the error he had committed, and returned to rectify it, bat it was too late: the letter to Betty was the first which met Mr. Wortley's eye, and he had indulged his curiosity in reading the pathetic effusion of his love-lorn footman. James begged to have it returned: "No, James," said his master, "You shall be a great man; and this letter Bust appear in the Spectator."

'JAMES.'

N. B. By the words ill conditions, James means, in a woman coquetry, in a man inconR. stancy.

Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns,
The fortune of the family remains,
And grandsires grandsons the long list contains.
Dryden.

HAVING already given my reader an account of several extraordinary clubs both ancient and modern, I did not design to have troubled him with any more narratives of this nature; but I have lately received information of a club which I can call neither ancient nor modern, that I dare say will be no less surprising to my reader than it was to myself; for which reason I shall communicate it to the public as one of the greatest curiosities in its kind.

A friend of mine complaining of a tradesman who is related to him, after having represented him as a very idle worthless fellow, who ne

James at length succeeded in convincing Betty that he had no "ill conditions," and obtained her consent to marry him; the marriage, however, was unfortunately prevented by her sudden death; and James, who seems to have been a good sort of soul, soon after married her sister. This sister was, most probably, the Molly who trudg ed so many miles to carry the angry message.

glected his family, and spent most of his time in (focus perennis esto) as well for the conve over a bottle, told me, to conclude his character,nience of lighting their pipes, or to cure the that he was a member of the Everlasting Club. dampness of the club-room. They have an old So very odd a title raised my curiosity to in-woman in the nature of a vestal, whose business quire into the nature of a club that had such it is to cherish and perpetuate the fire which a sounding name; upon which my friend gave burns from generation to generation, and has me the following account: seen the glass-house fires in and out above an hundred times.

The Everlasting Club consists of a hundred members, who divide the whole twenty-four The Everlasting Club treats all other clubs hours among them in such a manner, that the with an eye of contempt, and talks even of the club sits day and night from one end of the Kit-Cat and October as of a couple of upstarts. year to another; no party presuming to rise Their ordinary, discourse, (as much as I have till they are relieved by those who are in course been able to learn of it) turns altogether upon to succeed them. By this means a member of such adventures as have passed in their own the Everlasting Club never wants company; assembly; of members who have taken the for though he is not upon duty himself, he is glass in their turns for a week together, withsure to find some who are; so that if he be out stirring out of the club; of others who disposed to take a whet, a nooning, an even-have smoked an hundred pipes at a sitting; of ing's draught, or a bottle after midnight, he others, who have not missed their morning's goes to the club, and finds a knot of friends draught for twenty years together. Sometimes to his mind. they speak in raptures of a run of ale in king It is a maxim in this club, that the steward Charles's reign; and sometimes reflect with never dies; for as they succeed one another astonishment upon games at whist, which have by way of rotation, no man is to quit the great been miraculously recovered by members of elbow-chair which stands at the upper end of the society, when in all human probability the the table, till his successor is in readiness to fill case was desperate. it: insomuch that there has not been a sede vacante in the memory of man.

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 nature.

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 repeated directions from the Club to withdraw himself. This steward members. is frequently talked of in the club, and looked upon by every member of it as a greater man, than No. 73.] Thursday, May 24, 1711. 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 century. This resolution passed in a general club nemine contradicente.

There are four general clubs held in a year, at which times they fill up vacancies, appoint waiters, confirm the old fire-maker, 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 present sitting

Having given this short account of the institution and continuation of the Everlasting Club, I should here endeavour to say something ofthe manners and characters of its several members, which I shall do according to the best lights I have received in this matter.

O Dea certè!

C.

Virg. Æn. i. 328.

O goddess! for no less you seem.

It is very strange to consider, that a creature like man, who is sensible of so many weaknesses and imperfections, should be actuated by a love of fame: that vice and ignorance, imperfection and misery, should contend for praise, and endeavour as much as possible to make themselves objects of admiration.

But notwithstanding man's essential perfection is but very little, his comparative perfection may be very considerable. If he looks upon himself in an abstracted light, he has not much to boast of; but if he considers himself It appears by their books in general, that, with regard to others, he may find occasion of since their first institution, they have smoked glorying, if not in his own virtues, at least in fifty tons of tobacco, drank thirty thousand the absence of another's imperfections. This butts of ale, one thousand hogsheads of red gives a different turn to the reflections of the port, two hundred barrels of brandy, and a wise man and the fool. The first endeavours to kilderkin of small beer. There has been like-shine in himself, and the last to outshine others. wise a great consumption of cards. It is also The first is humbled by the sense of his own insaid, that they observe the law in Bon Jonson's firmities, the last is lifted up by the discovery of club, which orders the fire to be always kept those which he observes in other men. The wise man considers what he wants, and the fool

* Anno 1666.

+ See the Leges Convivales of this club, in Lang-what he abounds in. The wise man is happy baine's Lives of English Poets, &c. Art. Ben Jonson. when he gains his own approbation, and the