"Huic parco paucis contento, quinque diebus "Nil erat in loculis. Noctes vigilabat ad ipfum "Mane: diemtotum ftertebat. Nil fuit unquam "Sic impar fibiHor. Sat. 3. Lib. 1.

Instead of tranflating this paffage in Horace, I shall entertain my English reader with the defcription of a parallel character, that is wonderfully well finifhed by Mr. Dryden, and raifed upon the fame foundation.

"In the first rank of thefe did Zimri ftand. "A man so various, that he feem'd to be "Not one, but all mankind's epitome. "Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; "Was ev'ry thing by ftarts, and nothing long; "But in the courfe of one revolving moon, "Was chymift, fidler, statesman, and buffoon: "Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drink"ing:

"Befides ten thousand freaks that dy'd in thinking.

"Bleft madman, who cou'd ev'ry hour employ, "With fomething new to with, or to enjoy!"


-Si quid ego adfuero, curamve levafo,
Quæ nunc te coquit, & verfat fub peétore fixa,
Ecquid erit pretii ?
Eun. apud Tullium.
Say, will you thank me if I bring you reft,
And ease the torture of your lab'ring breaft?

Enquiries after happinefs, and rules for at

taining it, are fo neceffary and useful to mankind as the arts of confolation, and supporting one's felf under a liction. The utmoft we can hope for in this world is contentment; if we aim at any thing higher, we shall meet with nothing but grief and difappointment. A man fhould direct all his ftudies and endeavours at making himself eafy now, and happy hereafter.

The truth of it is, if all the happinefs that is difperfed through the whole race of mankind in this world were drawn together, and put into the poffeffion of any fingle man, it would not make a very happy being. Though, on the contrary, if the miferies of the whole fpecies were fixed in a figle perfon, they would make a very miferable one.

I am engaged in this fubject by the following letter, which, though fubfcribed by a fictitious name, I have reafon to believe is not imaginary.


Mr. Spectator,

A M one of your difciples, and endeavour to live up to your ruies, which I hope will incline you to pity my condition: I fhall open it to you in a very few words. About three < years fince a gentleman, whom, I am fure, you yourfelf would have approved, made his • addreffes to me. He had every thing to re'commend him but an eftate, fo that my friends, 'who all of them applauded his perfon, would not for the fake of both of us favour his paffion. For my own part, I refigned myself up entirely to the direction of those who knew the world much better than myself, but ftill lived in hopes that fome juncture or other would make me happy in the man whom, in my heart, I preferred to all the world; being determined if I could not have him, to have no

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body elfe. About three months ago I receive! ' a letter from him, acquainting me, that by the death of an uncle he had a confiderable eftate left him, which he faid was welcome to him upon no other account, but as he hoped it 'would remove all difficulties that lay in-the way to our mutual happinefs. You may well fuppofe, Sir, with how much joy I received this letter, which was followed by feveral others 'filled with thofe expreffions of love and joy, which I verily believe nobody felt more fincerely, nor knew better how to defcribe, than the gentleman I am fpeaking of. But, Sir, how fhall I be able to tell it you! By the last week's poft I received a letter from an intimate friend of this unhappy gentleman, acquainting me, that as he had just fertied his affairs, and was preparing for his journey, he fell fick of a fever and died. It is impoffible 'to exprefs to you the distress I am in upon this ' occafion. I can only have recourfe to my devotions, and to the reading of good books for my confolation; and as I always take a parti'cular delight in thofe frequent advices and ad

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monitions which you give the public, it would be a very great piece of charity in you to lend 'me your affiftance in this conjuncture. If after the reading of this letter you find yourfelf in a 'humour, rather to railly and ridicule, than to comfort me, I defire you would throw it into the fire, and think no more of it; but if you are touched with my misfortune, which is greater than I know how to bear, your counfels may very much fupport, and will infinitely 'oblige the afflicted • Leonora.

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A difappointment in love is more hard to get over than any other; the paffion itself fo foftens and fubdues the heart, that it difables it from ftruggling or bearing up against the woes and diftreffes which befal it. The mind meets with other misfortunes in her whole strength; fhe ftands collected within herfelf, and fuftains the fhock with all the force which is natural to her; but a heart in love has its foundations fapped. and immediately finks under the weight of accidents that are difagreebble to its favourite paffion.

In afflictions men generally draw their confolations out of books of morality, which indeed are of great ufe to fortify and ftrengthen the mind against the impreffions of forrow. Monfieur St. Evremont, who does not approve of this method, recommends authors who are apt to ftir up mirth in the mind of the readers, and fancies Don Quixote can give more relief to an heavy heart than Plutarch or Seneca, as it is much easier to divert grief than to conquer it. This doubtless may have its effects on fome tempers. I fhould rather have recourfe to authors of a quite contrary kind, that give us instances of calamities and misfortunes, and fhew human nature in its greatest diftreffes.

If the afflictions we groan under be very heavy, we shall find fome confolation in the fociety of as great fufferers as ourselves, especially when we find our companions men of virtue and merit, If our afflictions are light, we shall be comforted by the comparison we make between ourfelves and our fellow-fufferers. A lofs at fea, a fit of fickness, or the death of a friend, are fuch trifies when we confider whole kingdoms laid in ashes, D d


families put to the fword, wretches fhut up in dungeons, and the like calamities of mankind, that we are out of countenance for our own weakness, if we fink under fuch little strokes of fortune.

Let the difconfolate Leonora confider, that at the very time in which the languishes for the lofs of her deceased lover, there are perfons in feveral parts of the world juft perishing in a fhipwreck; others crying out for mercy in the terrors of a death-bed repentance; others lying under the tortures of an infamous execution, or the like dreadful calamities; and he will find her forrows vanish at the appearance of thofe which are fo much greater and more aftonish


I would further propofe to the confideration of my afflicted difciple, that poflibly what he now locks upon as the greatest misfortune, is not really fuch in itfelf. For my own part, I queftion not but cur fouls in a feparate ftate will look back on their lives in quite another view, than what they had of them in the body; and that what they now confider as misfortunes and difappointments, will very often appear to have been escapes and blessings.

The mind that hath any caft towards devotion. naturally flies to it in its afflictions.

When I was in France I heard a very remarkable ftory of two lovers, which I fhall relate at length in my to-morrow's paper, not only be caufe the circumftances of it are extraordinary, but baufe it may ferve as an illuftration to all that can be faid on this last head, and fhew the power of religion in abating that particular anguifh which feems to lie fo heavy on Leonora. The story was told by a priest, as I travelled with him in a stage coach. I fhall give it my reader, as well as I can remember, in his own words, after having premised, that if confolations might be drawn from a wrong religion and a mifguided devotion, they cannot but flow much more naturally from thofe which are founded upon reafon, and established in good sense.

Illa, quisme, inquit, & te perdidit, Orpheus?
Famque vale: feror irgenti circumdata nocte,
Invalidafque tibi tendens, beu! non tua, palmas.


VIRG. Georg. 4. v. 494.

Then thus the bride: what fury feiz'd on thee,
Unhappy man! to lofe thyfelf and me?
And now farewell! involv'd in fhades of night,
For ever I am ravish'd from the fight:
In vain I reach my feeble hands to join
In fweet embraces, ah! no longer thine!


ONSTANTIA was a woman of extraordi

verfation, made fuch an impreffion in her heart as it was impoffible for time to efface: he was himself no lefs fmitten with Conftantia. A long acquaintance made them ftill difcover new beauties in each other, and by degrees raised in them that mutual paffion which had an influence on their following lives. It unfortunately happened, that in the midst of this intercourse of love and friendship between Theodofius and Conftantia, there broke out an irreparable quarrel between their parents, the one valuing himself too much upon his birth, and the other upon his poffeffions. The father of Conftantia was fo incenfed at the father of Theodofius, that he contracted an unreafonable averfion towards his fon, infomuch that he forbad him his house, and charged his daughter upon her duty never to fee him more. In the mean time, to break off all communication between the two lovers, who he knew entertained fecret hopes of fome favourable opportunity that should bring them together, he found out a young gentleman of a good fortune and an agreeable perfon, whom he pitched upon as a husband for his daughter. He foon concerted this affair so well, that he told Conftantia it was his defign to marry her to fuch a gentleman, and that her wedding fhould be celebrated on fuch a day. Conftantia, who was overawed with the authority of her father, and unable to object any thing against so advantageous a match, received the propofal with a profound filence, which her father commended in her, as the most decent manner of a virgin's giving her consent to an overture of that kind. The noife of this intended marriage foon reached Theodofius, who, after a long tumult of paffions which naturally rife in a lover's heart on fuch an occafion, writ the following letter to Conftantia.

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This letter was conveyed to Constantia that very evening, who fainted at the reading of it; and the next morning fhe was much more alarmed by two or three meffengers, that came to her father's houfe one after another to enquire if they had heard any thing of Theodofius, who it seems had left his chamber about midnight, and could no where be found. The deep melancholy, which had hung upon his mind fome time before, made them apprehend the worst that could befall him.

very the re

a father, who having arrived at great riches by his own industry, took delight in nothing but his money. Theodofius was the younger fon of a decayed family, of great parts and learning, improved by a genteel and virtuous education. When he was in the twentieth year of his age he became acquainted with Conftantia, who had not then paffed her fifteenth. As he lived but a few miles diftant from her father's houfe, he had frequent opportunities of feeing her; and by the advantages of a good perfon and a pleafing con


port of her marriage could have driven him to fuch extremities, was not to be comforted: fhe now accufed herself for having fo tamely given an ear to the proposal of a husband, and looked upon the new lover as the murderer of Theodofius: in fhort, the refolved to fuffer the utmost effects of her father's difpleafure, rather than comply with a marriage which appeared to her fo full of guilt and horror. The father feeing himfelf entirely rid of Theodofius, and likely to keep a confiderable port.on in his family, was not very


much concerned at the obftinate refufal of his daughter; and did not find it very difficult to excufe himself upon that account to his intended fon-in-law, who had all along regarded this alliance rather as a marriage of convenience than of love. Conftantia had now no relief but in her devotions and exercises of religion, to which her afflictions had fo entirely subjected her mind, that after fome years had abated the violence of her forrows, and fettled her thoughts in a kind of tranquillity, the refolved to pass the remainder of her days in a convent. Her father was not displeased with a resolution, which would fave money in his family, and readily complied with his daughter's intentions. Accordingly in the twenty-fifth year of her age, while her beauty was yet in all its height and bloom, he carried her to a neighbouring city, in order to look out a fifterhood of nuns among whom to place his daughter. There was in this place a father of a convent who was very much renowned for his piety and exemplary life; and as it is usual in the Romish church for those who are under any great affliction, or trouble of mind, to apply themselves to the most eminent confeffors for pardon and confolation, our beautiful votary took the opportunity of confeffing herself to this celebrated father.

We must now return to Theodofius, who, the very morning that the above-mentioned inquiries had been made after him, arrived at a religious house in the city, where now Conftantia refided; and defiring that fecrecy and concealment of the fathers of the convent, which is very ufual upon any extraordinary occafion, he made himself one of the order, with a private vow never to enquire after Conftantia; whom he looked upon as given away to his rival upon the day on which, according to common fame, their marriage was to have been folemnized. Having in his youth made a good progrefs in learning, that he might dedicate himfelf more entirely to religion, he entered into holy orders, and in a few years became renowned for his fanctity of life, and thofe pious fentiments which he infpired into all who converfed with him. It was this holy man to whom Conftantia had determined to apply herself in confeffion, though neither the nor any other, befides the prior of the convent, knew any thing of his name or family. The gay, the amiable Theodofius had now taken upon him the name of Father Francis, and was fo far concealed in a long beard, a fhaven head, and a religious habit, that it was impoffible to difcover the man of the world in the venerable conventual.

As he was one morning fhut up in his confeffional, Conftantia kneeling by him, opened the ftate of her foul to him; and after having given him the hiftory of a life full of innocence, the burst out in tears, and entered upon that part of her story in which he himself had fo great a fhare. My behaviour, fays he, has I fear been the death of a man who had no other fault but that of loving me too much. Heaven only knows how dear he was to me whilft he lived, and how bitter the remembrance of hirm has been to me fince his death. She here paufed and lifted up her eyes that streamed with tears towards the father; who was fo moved with the fenfe of her forrows, that he could only command his voice, which was broke with fighs and fobbings, fo far as to bid her proceed. She followed his direc

tions, and in a flood of tears poured out her heart before him. The father could not forbear weeping aloud, infomuch that in the agonies of his grief the feat fhook under him. Conftantia, who thought the good man was thus moved by his compaffion towards her, and by the horror of her guilt, proceeded with the utmoft contrition to acquaint him with that vow of virginity in which the was going to engage herself, as the proper atonement for her fins, and the only facrifice fhe could make to the memory of Theodofius. The father, who by this time had pretty well compofed himself, burst out again in tears upon hearing that name to which he had been fo long difufed, and upon receiving this inftance of an unparalleled fidelity from one who he thought had feveral years fince given herself up to the poffeffion of another. Amidst the interruptions of his forrow, feeing his penitent overwhelmed with grief, he was only able to bid her from time to time be comforted to tell her that her fins were forgiven her that her guilt was not fo great as the apprehended--that the fhould not fuffer herself to be afflicted above meafure. After which he recovered himself enough to give her the abfolution in form; directing her at the fame time to repair to him again the next day, that he might encourage her in the pious refolutions fhe had taken, and give her fuitable exhortations for her behaviour in it. Conftantia retired, and the next morning renewed her applications. Theodofius having manned his foul with proper thoughts and reflections, exerted himself on this occafion in the best manner he could to animate his penitent in the course of life the was entered upon, and wear out of her mind thofe groundless fears and apprehenfions which had taken poffeffion of it; concluding, with a promife to her, that he would from time to time continue his admonitions when the should have taken upon her the holy veil. The rules of our refpective orders, fays he, will not permit that I fhould fee you, but you may affure yourfelf not only of having a place in my prayers, but of receiving fuch frequent inftructions as I can convey to you by letters. Go on chearfully in the glorious courfe you have undertaken, and you will quickly find fuch a peace and fatisfaction in your mind, which it is not in the power of the world to give.

Conftantia's heart was fo elevated with the difcourfe of father Francis, that the very next day fhe entered upon her vow. As foon as the folemnities of her reception were over, the retired, as it is ufual, with the abbefs into her own apartment.

The abbefs had been informed the night before of all that had paffed between her noviciate and father Francis: from whom she now delivered to her the following letter:

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S the firft-fruits of thofe joys and confolations which you may expect from the life you are now engaged in, I must acquaint you that Theodofius, whofe death fits fo heavy upon your thoughts, is ftill alive: and that the father, to whom you have confeffed yourfelf, was once that Theodofius whom you fo much lament. The love which we have had for one another will make us more happy in its difappointment than it could have done in its fuccefs. Providence has difpofed of us for our D d 2 advantage,

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Conftantia saw that the hand-writing agreed with the contents of the letter: and upon reflecting on the voice of the perfon, the behaviour, and above all the extreme forrow of the father during her confeffion, the difcovered Theodofius in every particular. After having wept with tears of joy, It is enough, fays fhe, Theodofius is ftill in being: I fhall live with comfort and die in peace.

The letters which the father fent her afterwards are yet extant in the nunnery where the refided; and are often read to the young religious, in order to infpire them with good refolutions and fentiments of virtue. It fo happened, that after Conftantia had lived about ten years in the cloifter, a violent fever broke out in the place, which fwept away great multitudes, and among others Theodofius. Upon his death-bed he fent his benediction in a very moving manncr to Conftantia, who at that time was herself fo far gone in the fame fatal distemper, that fhe lay delirious. Upon the interval which generally precedes death in fickneffes of this nature, the Abbefs, finding that the physicians had given her over, told her that Theodofius was just gone before her, and that he had fent her his benediction in his last moments, Conftantia received it with pleasure: and now, fays the, if I do not afk any thing improper, let me be buried by Theodofius. My vow reaches no farther than the grave. What I afk is, I hope, no violation of it-She died foon after, and was interred according to her request.

Their tombs are ftill to be feen, with a fhort Latin infcription over them to the following purpose.

Here lie the bodies of father Francis and "fifter Conftance. "They were lovely in their "lives, and in their deaths they were not divi❝ded." C

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Have often wished, that as in our conftitution there are several perfons whofe business it is to watch over our laws, our liberties and commerce, certain men might be fet apart as fuperintendents of our language, to hinder any words of a foreign coin from paffing among us; and in particular to prohibit any French phrafes from becoming current in this kingdom, when thofe of our own ftamp are altogether as valuable.. The prefent war has fo adulterated our tongue with frange words, that it would be impeffible for one of our great grandfathers to know what his pofterity have been doing, were he to read their exploits in a modern news-paper. Our warriors are very industrious in pro

Pagating the French language, at the fame time that they are fo gloriously successful in beating down their power. Our foldiers are men of ftrong heads for action, and perform fuch feats as they are not able to exprefs. They want words in their own tongue to tell us what it is they atchieve, and therefore fend us over accounts of their performance in a jargon of phrases, which they learn among their conquered enemies. They ought however to be provided with fecretaries, and affifted by our foreign ministers, to tell their story for them in plain English, and to let us know in our mother-tongue what it is our brave countrymen are about. The French would indeed be in the right to publish the news of the prefent war in English phrases, and make their campaigns unintelligible. Their people might flatter themfelves that things are not fo bad as they really are, were they thus palliated with foreign terms and thrown into fhades and obfcurity: but the English cannot be too clear in their narrative of thofe actions, which have raifed their country to a higher pitch of glory than it ever yet arrived at, and which will be ftill the more admired the better they are ex- plained. For my part, by that time a fiege is carried on two or three days, I am altogether loft and bewildered in it, and meet with fo many inexplicable difficulties, that I scarce know which fide has the better of it, until I am informed by the Tower-guns that the place is furrendered. I do indeed make fome allowances for this part of the war, fortifications having been foreign inventions, and upon that account abounding in foreign terms. But when we have won battles which may be defcribed in our own language, why are our papers filled with so many unintelligible exploits, and the French obliged to lend us a part of their tongue before we can know how they are conquered? They must be made acceffary to their own difgrace, as the Britons were formerly fo artificially wrought in the curtain of the Roman theatre, that they seemed to draw it up in order to give the fpectators an opportunity of feeing their own defeat celebrated upon the ftage: for fo Mr. Dryden has tranflated that verfe in Virgil.

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Which interwoven Britons seem to raise, «And shew the triumph that their shame dif "plays."

The hiftories of all our former wars are tranfmitted to us in our vernacular idiom, to use the phrafe of a great modern critic. I do not find in any of the chronicles, that Edward the third ever reconnoitred our enemy, though he often difcovered the posture of the French, and as often vanquished them in battle. The Black Prince paffed many a river without the help of pontoons, and filled a ditch with faggots as fuccefsfully as the generals of our times do it with fafcines. Our commanders lofe half their praise, and our people half the joy, by means of those hard words and dark expreffions in which our news papers do fo much abound. I have feen many a prudent citizen, after having read every article, enquire of his next neighbour what news the mail had brought.

I remem

I remember in that remarkable year when our country was delivered from the greatest fears and apprehenfions, and raised to the greatest height of gladness it had ever felt fince it was a nation, 1 mean the year of Blenheim,, I had the copy of a letter fent me out of the country, which was written from a young gentleman in the army to his father, a man of a good estate and plain fenfe: as the letter was very modifhly chequered with this modern military eloquence, I fhall prefent my reader with a copy of it.

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UPO "PON the junction of the French and Bavarian armies they took poft behind a great morafs which they thought Our general the next day fent a party of horfe to reconnoitre them from a little hauteur, at about a quarter of an hour's distance from the army, who returned again to the camp unobferved through feveral defiles, in one of which they met with a party of French • that had been marauding, and made them all prifoners at difcretion. The day after a drum ⚫ arrived at our camp, with a meffage which he would communicate to none but the general; he was followed by a trumpet, who they fay behaved himfelf very faucily, with a meffage ❝ from the Duke of Bavaria. The next morning our army being divided into two corps, made a movement towards the enemy, you will hear in the public prints how we treated them, with the other circumftances of that glorious day. I had the good-fortune to be in that ' regiment that pushed the Gens d'Armes. Several French battalions, whom fome fay were a corps de referve, made a fhew of refiftance; but it only proved a gafconade, for upon our preparing to fill up a little foffé, in order to attack them, they beat the chamade, and fent us carte blanche. Their commandant, with a great many other general officers, and troops ' without number, are made prifonerr of war, • and will, I believe, give you a vifit in England, the cartel not being yet fettled. Not queftion⚫ing.but these particulars will be very welcome to you, I congratulate you upon them, and am < your most dutiful fon, &c.'

The father of the young gentleman upon the perufal of the letter found it contained great news, but could not guess what it was. He immediately communicated it to the curate of the parish, who upon the reading of it, being vexed to fee any thing he could not understand, fell into a kind of paffion, and told him, that his fon had fent him a letter that was neither fifh, flesh, nor good red-herring. I wish, fays he, the captain may be compos mentis, he talks of a faucy trumpet, and a drum that carries meffages; then who is this carte blanche? He muft either banter us or he is out of his fenfes. The father, who always looked upon the curate as a learned man, began to fret inwardly at his fon's ufage, and producing a letter which he had written to him about three pofts before, you fee here, fays he, when he writes for money he knows how to Ipeak intelligibly enough; there is no man in England can exprefs himself clearer, when he wants a new furniture for his horfe. In fhort, the old man was fo puzzled upon the point, that At might have fared ill with his fon, had he not

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copy or tranfcript of thofe ideas which are

RISTOTLE tells us that the world is a

in the mind of the firft Being; and that thefe ideas, which are in the mind of man, are a tranfcript of the world: to this we may add, that words are the tranfcript of thofe ideas which are in the mind of man, and that writing or printing are the tranfcript of words.

As the Supreme Being has expreffed, and as it were printed his ideas in the creation, men exprefs their ideas in books, which by this great invention of thefe latter ages may last as long as the fun and moon, and perifh only in the ral wreck of nature. Thus Cowley in his Poem on the Refurrection, mentioning the deftruction of the univerfe, has thofe admirable lines.


"Now all the wide extended sky,
"And all th' harmonious worlds on high,
"And Virgil's facred work fhall die."

There is no other method of fixing thofe thoughts which arife and difappear in the mind of man, and tranfmitting them to the last periods of time; no other method of giving a permanency to our ideas, and preferving the knowledge of any particular perfon, when his body is mixed with the common mafs of matter, and his foul retired into the world of fpirits. Books are the legacies that a great genius leaves to mankind, which are delivered down from generation to generation, as prefents to the pofterity of thofe who are yet unborn.

All other arts of perpetuating our ideas continue but a fhort time: ftatues can laft but a few thousands of years, edifices fewer, and colours ftill fewer than edifices. Michael Angelo, Fontana, and Raphael, will hereafter be what Phidias, Vitruvius, and Apelles are at profent; the names of great ftatuaries, architects and painters, whofe works are loft. The feveral arts are expreffed in mouldering materials: nature finks under them, and is not able to fupport the ideas which are imprest upon it.

The circumftance which gives authors an advantage above all these great mafters, is this, that they can multiply their originals; or rather can make copies of their works, to what number they pleafe, which fhall be as valuable as the originals themfelves. This gives a great author fomething like a profpect of eternity, but at the fame time deprives him of thofe other advantages which artists meet with. The artist finds greater returns in profit, as the author in fame. What an ineftimable price would a Virgil or a Homer, a Cicero or an Aristotle bear, were their works like a ftatue, a building, or a picture, or to be confined

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