In short, he is one of those men that know everything except how to make a living.

Him would I keep on the square next my own royal compartment on life's chessboard.

To him I would push up another pawn, in the shape of a comely and wise young woman, whom he would of course take--to wife.

For all contingencies I would liberally provide.

In a word, I would, in the plebeian, but expressive phrase, "put him through" all the material part of life; see him sheltered, warmed, fed, button-mended, and all that, just to be able to lay on his talk when I liked,--with the privilege of shutting it off at will.
A Club is the next best thing to this, strung like a harp, with about a dozen ringing intelligences, each answering to some chord of the macrocosm.