Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood,

And heard, and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd.
The fam'd physician tucks his robes around,
With ready hands, and hastens to the wound.
With gentle touches he performs his part,
This way and that soliciting the dart,
And exercises all his heavenly art.

All soft'ning simples, known of sov'reign use,
He presses out, and pours their noble juice;
These first infus'd, to lenify the pain,

He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then to the patron of his art he pray'd:
The patron of his art refus'd his aid.

But now the goddess mother, mov'd with grief,
And pierc'd with pity hastens her relief.
A branch of healing dittany she brought,
Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought;
Rough in the stem, which woolly leaves surround;
The leaves with flowers, the flow'rs with purple

crown'd;

Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief
To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief.
This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd; and brews
Th' extracted liquor with Ambrosian dews,
And od❜rous penance: unseen she stands,
Temp'ring the mixture with her heavenly hands;
And pours it in a bowl already crown'd
With juice of med'cinal herbs, prepar'd to bathe the

ing" they perform such and such cures: | husband I was married to at fourteen, by this expression is certainly very proper and my uncle and guardian, (as I afterwards emphatical, for that is all they have for it. discovered,) by way of sale, for the third And if ever a cure is performed on a patient part of my fortune. This fellow looked upon where they are concerned, they can claim me as a mere child he might breed up after no greater share in it than Virgil's Iapis in his own fancy: if he kissed my chamberthe curing of Æneas; he tried his skill, was maid before my face, I was supposed so very assiduous about the wound, and indeed ignorant, how could I think there was any was the only visible means that relieved the hurt in it? When he came home roaring hero; but the poet assures us it was the drunk at five in the morning, it was the particular assistance of a deity that speeded custom of all men that live in the world. the operation. An English reader may see I was not to see a penny of money, for, poor the whole story in Mr. Dryden's transla- thing, how could I manage it? He took a tion: handsome cousin of his into the house (as he said,) to be my house-keeper, and to govern my servants; for how should I know how to rule a family? While she had what money she pleased, which was but reasonable for the trouble she was at for my good, I was not to be so censorious as to dislike familiarity and kindness between near relations. I was too great a coward to contend, but not so ignorant a child to be thus imposed upon. I resented his contempt as I ought to do, and as most poor passive blinded wives do, until it pleased heaven to take away my tyrant, who left me free possession of my own land, and a large jointure. My youth and money brought me many lovers, and several endeavoured to establish an interest in my heart while my husband was in his last sickness; the honourable Edward Waitfort was one of the first who addressed to me, advised to it by a cousin of his that was my intimate friend, and knew to a penny what I was worth. Mr. Waitfort is a very agreeable man, and every body would like him as well as he does himself, if they did not plainly see that his esteem and love is all taken up, and by such an object as it is impossible to get the better of; I mean himself. He made no doubt of marrying me within four or five months, and began to proceed with such an assured easy air, that piqued my pride not to banish him; quite contrary, out of pure malice, I heard his first declaration with so much innocent surprise, and blushed so prettily, I perceived it touched his very heart, and he thought me the best-natured silly poor thing on earth. When a man has such a notion of a woman, he loves her better than he thinks he does. I was overjoyed to be thus revenged on him for designing on my fortune; and finding it was in my power to make his heart ache, I resolved to complete my conquest, and entertained several other pretenders. The first impression of my undesigning innocence was so strong in his head, he attributed all my followers to the inevitable force of my charms; and, from several blushes and side glances, concluded himself the favourite; and when I used him like a dog for my diversion, he thought it was all prudence and fear; and pitied the violence I did my own inclinations to comply with my friends, when I married Sir Nicholas Fribble, of sixty years of age. You know, sir, the case of Mrs. Medlar

wound.

The leech, unknowing of superior art,

Which aids the cure, with this foments the part;
And in a moment ceas'd the raging smart.
Staunch'd in the blood and in the bottom stands
The steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender hands,
Moves up and follows of its own accord;
And health and vigour are at once restor❜d.
Iapis first perceiv'd the closing wound;
And first the footsteps of a god he found:
'Arms, arms!' he cries,' the sword and shield prepare,
And send the willing chief, renew'd, to war.
This is no mortal work, no cure of mine,
Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine.’

Virg. Æn. Lib. xii. 391, &c.

No. 573.] Wednesday, July 28, i14.
-Castigata remordent.
Juv. Sat. ii. 35.
Chastised, the accusation they retort.

My paper on the club of widows, has brought me in several letters; and, amongst the rest, a long one from Mrs. President, as follows:

"SMART SIR,-You are pleased to be very merry, as you imagine, with us widows: and you seem to ground your satire on our receiving consolation so soon after the death of our dears, and the number we are pleased to admit for our companions; but you never reflect what husbands we have buried, and how short a sorrow the loss of them was capable of occasioning. For my own part, Mrs. President as you call me, my first

I hope you would not have had me cry out | himself, and what a glory would it be for my eyes for such a husband. I shed tears me, and how I should be envied, made me enough for my widowhood a week after accept of being third wife to my lord Fri my marriage; and when he was put in his day. I proposed from my rank and his grave, reckoning he had been two years estate, to live in all the joys of pride; but dead, and myself a widow of that standing, how was I mistaken! he was neither exI married three weeks afterwards John travagant, nor ill-natured, nor debauched. Sturdy, Esq. his next heir. I had indeed I suffered however more with him than some thoughts of taking Mr. Waitfort, but with all my others. He was splenetic. I I found he could stay; and besides, he was forced to sit whole days hearkening to thought it indecent to ask me to marry his imaginary ails; it was impossible to tell again until my year was out; so, privately what would please him, what he liked when resolving him for my fourth, I took Mr. the sun shined made him sick when it Sturdy for the present. Would you believe rained: he had no distemper, but lived in it, sir, Mr. Sturdy was just five-and-twenty, constant fear of them all. My good genius about six foot high, and the stoutest fox- dictated to me to bring him acquainted with hunter in the country, and I believe I wished Dr. Gruel; from that day he was always ten thousand times for my old Fribble again; contented, because he had names for all he was following his dogs all the day, and his complaints; the good doctor furnished all the night keeping them up at table with him with reasons for all his pains; and prehim and his companions: however, I think scriptions for every fancy that troubled him; myself obliged to them for leading him a in hot weather he lived upon juleps, and chase in which he broke his neck. Mr. let blood to prevent fevers; when it grew Waitfort began his addresses anew; and I cloudy, he generally apprehended a converily believe I had married him now, but sumption. To shorten the history of this there was a young officer in the guards that wretched part of my life, he ruined a good had debauched two or three of my ac- constitution by endeavouring to mend it; quaintance, and I could not forbear being a and took several medicines, which ended little vain of his courtship. Mr. Waitfort in taking the grand remedy, which cured neard of it, and read me such a lecture upon both him and me of all our uneasiness. After the conduct of women, I married the officer his death, I did not expect to hear any more that very day, out of pure spite to him. of Mr. Waitfort. I knew he had renounced Half an hour after I was married I received me to all his friends, and been very witty a penitential letter from the honourable Mr. upon my choice, which he affected to talk Edward Waitfort, in which he begged par- of with great indifferency. I gave over don for his passion, as proceeding from the thinking of him, being told that he was enviolence of his love. I triumphed when I gaged with a pretty woman and a great read it, and could not help, out of the pride fortune; it vexed me a little, but not enough of my heart, showing it to my new spouse; to make me neglect the advice of my cousir and we were very merry together upon it. Wishwell, that came to see me the day my Alas! my mirth lasted a short time; my lord went into the country with Russel; she young_husband was very much in debt told me experimentally, nothing put an unwhen I married him, and his first action faithful lover and a dear husband so soon afterwards was to set up a gilt chariot and out one's head as a new one, and at the six, in fine trappings before and behind. I same time proposed to me a kinsman of had married so hastily, I had not the pru-her's. "You understand enough of the dence to reserve my estate in my own world," said she, "to know money is the hands; my ready money was lost in two most valuable consideration; he is very nights at the Groom-porter's; and my dia- rich, and I am sure cannot live long; he has mond necklace, which was stole I did not a cough that must carry him off soon. I know how, I met in the street upon Jenny knew afterwards she had given the selfWheedle's neck. My plate vanished piece same character of me to him; but, however, by piece: and I had been reduced to down- I was so much persuaded by her, I hastened right pewter, if my officer had not been on the match for fear he should die before deliciously killed in a duel, by a fellow that the time came; he had the same fears, and had cheated him of five hundred pounds, was so pressing, I married him in a fortand afterwards, at his own request, satisfied night, resolving to keep it private a forthim and me too, by running him through night longer. During this fortnight Mr. the body. Mr. Waitfort was still in love, Waitfort came to make me a visit: he told and told me so again; and, to prevent all me he had waited on me sooner, but had fears of ill usage, he desired me to reserve that respect for me, he would not interrupt every thing in my own hands: but now my me in the first day of my affliction for my acquaintance began to wish me joy of his dead lord; that, as soon as he heard I was constancy, my charms were declining, and at liberty to make another choice, he had I could not resist the delight I took in show- broke off a match very advantageous for ing the young flirts about town it was yet his fortnne, just upon the point of concluin my power to give pain to a man of sense; sion, and was forty times more in love this, and some private hopes he would hang with me than ever. I never received more

Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Recte beatum; rectius occupat

Nomen beati, qui Deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati.

Hor. Od. ix. Lib. 4. 45.

Believe not those that lands possess,
And shining heaps of useless ore,
The only lords of happiness:

But rather those that know

For what kind fates bestow,
And have the art to use the store:
That have the generous skill to bear
The hated weight of poverty.—Creech.

pleasure in my life than from this declara- | No. 574.] Friday, July 30, 1714. tion; but I composed my face to a grave air, and said the news of his engagement had touched me to the heart, that in a rash jealous fit I had married a man I could never have thought on, if I had not lost all hopes of him. Good-natured Mr. Waitfort had liked to have dropped down dead at hearing this, but went from me with such an air as plainly showed me he had laid all the blame upon himself, and hated those friends that had advised him to the fatal application; he seemed as much touched by my misfortune as his own, for he had not the least doubt I was still passionately I WAS once engaged in discourse with a in love with him. The truth of the story Rosicrucian about the great secret.' As is, my new husband gave me reason to re- this kind of men (I mean those of them who pent I had not staid for him; he had mar- are not professed cheats) are overrun with ried me for my money, and I soon found enthusiasm and philosophy, it was very he loved money to distraction; there was amusing to hear this religious adept des nothing he would not do to get it; nothing he canting on his pretended discovery. He would not suffer to preserve it; the smallest talked of the secret as of a spirit which expense kept him awake whole nights; and lived within an emerald, and converted when he paid a bill, it was with as many every thing that was near it to the highest sighs, and after as many delays, as a man perfection it is capable of. 'It gives a lusthat endures the loss of a limb. I heard tre,' says he, to the sun, and water to the nothing but reproofs for extravagancy what- diamond. It irradiates every metal, and ever I did. I saw very well that he would enriches lead with all the properties of have starved me, but for losing my jointures; gold. It heightens smoke into flame, flame and he suffered agonies between the grief into light, and light into glory.' He farther of seeing me have so good a stomach, and added, that 'a single ray of it dissipates the fear that, if he had made me fast, it pain, and care, and melancholy, from the might prejudice my health. I did not doubt person on whom it falls. In short,' says he, he would have broke my heart, if I did not its presence naturally changes every place break his, which was allowable by the law into a kind of heaven.' After he had gonc of self-defence. The way was very easy. on for some time in this unintelligible cant, I resolved to spend as much money as II found that he jumbled natural and moral could; and, before he was aware of the ideas together in the same discourse, and stroke, appeared before him in a two thou- that his great secret was nothing else but sand pound diamond necklace: he said content. nothing, but went quietly to his chamber, and, as it is thought, composed himself with a dose of opium. I behaved myself so well upon the occasion, that to this day I believe he died of an apoplexy. Mr. Waitfort was resolved not to be too late this time, and I heard from him in two days. I am almost out of my weeds at this present writing, and very doubtful whether I will marry him or no. I do not think of a seventh for the ridiculous reason you mention, but out of pure morality that I think so much constancy should be rewarded, though I may not do it after all perhaps. I do not believe all the unreasonable malice of mankind can give a pretence why I should have been constant to the memory of any of the deceased, or have spent much time in grieving for an insolent, insignificant, negligent, extravagant, splenetic, or covetous husband: my first insulted me, my second was nothing to me, my third disgusted me, the fourth would have ruined me, the fifth tormented me, and the sixth would have starved me. If the other ladies you name would thus give in their husbands' pictures at length, you would see they have had as little reason as myself to lose their hours in weeping and wailing. VOL. II. 46

This virtue does indeed produce, in some measure, all those effects which the alchymist usually ascribes to what he calls the philosopher's stone; and if it does not bring riches, it does the same thing, by banishing the desire of them. If it cannot remove the disquietudes arising out of man's mind, body, or fortune, it makes him easy under them. It has indeed a kindly influence on the soul of man, in respect of every being to whom he stands related. It extinguishes all murmur, repining, and ingratitude, towards that Being who has allotted him his part to act in this world. It destroys all inordinate ambition, and every tendency to corruption, with regard to the community wherein he is placed. It gives sweetness to his conversation, and a perpetual serenity to all his thoughts.

Among the many methods which might be made use of for the acquiring of this virtue, I shall only mention the two following. First of all, a man should always consider how much he has more than he wants: and, secondly, how much more unhappy he might be than he really is.

First of all, a man should always consider how much he has more than he wants. I am wonderfully pleased with the reply

between the misfortunes which he suffers, and greater misfortunes which might have befallen him.

I like the story of the honest Dutchman, who upon breaking his leg by a fall from the mainmast, told the standers by, it was a great mercy that it was not his neck. To which, since I am got into quotations, give me leave to add the saying of an old philosopher, who, after having invited some of his friends to dine with him, was ruffled by his wife, that came into the room in a passion, and threw down the table that stood before them: Every one,' says he, 'has his calamity, and he is a happy man that has no greater than this.' We find an instance to the same purpose in the life of doctor Ham

man was troubled with a complication of distempers, when he had the gout upon him, he used to thank God that it was not the stone; and when he had the stone, that he had not both these distempers on him at the same time.

which Aristippus made to one who condoled him upon the loss of a farm; 'Why,' said he, 'I have three farms still, and you have but one; so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you than you for me.' On the contrary, foolish men are more apt to consider what they have lost than what they possess; and to fix their eyes upon those who are richer than themselves, rather than on those who are under greater difficulties. All the real pleasures and conveniencies of life lie in a narrow compass; but it is the humour of mankind to be always looking forward, and straining after one who has got the start of them in wealth and honour. For this reason, as there are none can be properly called rich who have not more than they want, there are few richmond, written by bishop Fell. As this good men in any of the politer nations, but among the middle sort of people, who keep their wishes within their fortunes, and have more wealth than they know how to enjoy. Persons of a higher rank live in a kind of splendid poverty, and are perpetually wanting, because, instead of acquiescing in the solid I cannot conclude this essay without obpleasures of life, they endeavour to outvie serving that there never was any system one another in shadows and appearances. besides that of Christianity, which could Men of sense have at all times beheld, with effectually produce in the mind of man the a great deal of mirth, this silly game that virtue I have been hitherto speaking of. In is playing over their heads, and, by con- order to make us content with our present tracting their desires, enjoy all that secret condition, many of the ancient philosophers satisfaction which others are always in tell us that our discontent only hurts ourquest of. The truth is, this ridiculous chase selves, without being able to make any after imaginary pleasures cannot be suffi- alteration in our circumstances; others, that ciently exposed, as it is the great source of whatever evil befalls us is derived to us by those evils which generally undo a nation. a fatal necessity, to which the gods themLet a man's estate be what it will, he is a selves are subject; while others very gravely poor man if he does not live within it, and tell the man who is miserable, that it is naturally sets himself to sale to any one that necessary he should be so to keep up the can give him his price. When Pittacus, harmony of the universe, and that the after the death of his brother, who had left scheme of Providence would be troubled nim a good estate, was offered a great sum and perverted were he otherwise. These, of money by the king of Lydia, he thanked and the like considerations, rather silence him for his kindness, but told him he had than satisfy a man. They may show him already more by half than he knew what to that his discontent is unreasonable, but are do with. In short, content is equivalent to by no means sufficient to relieve it. They wealth, and luxury to poverty; or, to give rather give despair than consolation. the thought a more agreeable turn, Con-word, a man might reply to one of these tent is natural wealth,' says Socrates; to comforters as Augustus did to his friend, which I shall add, Luxury is artificial who advised him not to grieve for the death poverty.' I shall therefore recommend to of a person whom he loved, because his the consideration of those who are always grief could not fetch him again; 'It is for aiming after superfluous and imaginary en- that very reason,' said the emperor, that joyments, and will not be at the trouble of I grieve. contracting their desires, an excellent saying of Bion the philosopher; namely, that no man has so much care as he who endeavours after the most happiness.'

In a

On the contrary, religion bears a more tender regard to human nature. It prescribes to every miserable man the means of bettering his condition; nay, it shows him that the bearing of his afflictions as he ought to do will naturally end in the removal of them: it makes him easy here, because it can make him happy hereafter.

In the second place, every one ought to reflect how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. The former consideration took in all those who are sufficiently provided with the means to make them-. Upon the whole, a contented mind is the selves easy; this regards such as actually lie under some pressure or misfortune. These may receive great alleviation from such a comparison as the unhappy person may make between himself and others, or

greatest blessing a man can enjoy in this world; and if in the present life his happiness arises from the subduing of his desires, it will arise in the next from the gratification of them.

A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefoot, Father,' says he, you are in a very miserable condition, if there is not another world.' True, son,' said the hermit, but what is thy condition if there is?' Man is a creature designed for two different states of being, or rather for two different lives. His first life is short and transient; his second permanent and lasting. The question we are all concerned in is this, in which of these two lives it is our chief interest to make ourselves happy? Or, in other words, whether we should endeavour to secure to ourselves the pleasures and gratifications of a life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its utmost length of a very inconsiderable duration? or to secure to ourselves the pleasures of a life which is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every man, upon the first hearing of this question, knows very well which side of it he ought to close with. But however right we are in theory, it is plain that in practice we adhere to the wrong side of the question. We make provisions for this life as though it were never to have an end, and for the other life as though it were never to have a beginning. Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human nature, accidentally alight upon the earth, and take a survey of its inhabitants, what would his notions of us be? Would not he think that we are a species of beings made for quite different ends and purposes than what we really are? Must not he imagine that we are placed in this world to get riches and honours? Would not he think that it was our duty to toil after wealth, and station, and title? Nay, would not he believe we were forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to pursue our pleasures under pain of damnation? He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a scheme of duties quite opposite to those which are indeed prescribed And truly, according to such an imagination, he must conclude that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in the universe; that we are constant to our duty; and that we keep a steady eye to the end for which me were sent hither.

to us.

no preparations? Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason, than that men, who are persuaded of these two different states of being, should be perpetually employed in providing for a life of threescore and ten years, and neglecting to make provision for that which after many myriads of years will be still new, and still beginning; especially when we consider that our endeavours for making ourselves great, or rich, or honourable, or whatever else we place our happiness in, may after all prove unsuccessful; whereas, if we constantly and sincerely endeavour to make ourselves happy in the other life, we are sure that our endeavours will succeed, and that we shall not be disappointed of our hope.

The following question is started by one of the schoolmen.-Supposing the whole body of the earth were a great ball or mass of the finest sand, and that a single grain or particle of this sand should be annihilated every thousand years? Supposing then that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this prodigious mass of sand was consuming by this slow method until there was not a grain of it left, en condition you were to be miserable for ever after? Or, supposing that you might be happy for ever after, on condition you would be miserable until the whole mass of sand were thus annihilated at the rate of one sand in a thousand years:-which of these two cases would you make your choice?

It must be confessed in this case, so many thousands of years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though in reality they do not bear so great a proportion to that duration which is to follow them as a unit does to the greatest number which you can put together in figures, or as one of those sands to the supposed heap. Reason therefore tells us, without any manner of hesitation, which would be the better part in this choice. However, as I have before intimated, our reason might in such case be so overset by the imagination, as to dispose some persons to sink under the consideration of the great length of the first part of this duration, and of the great distance of that second duration, which is to succeed it. The mind, I say, might give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, considering that it is so very near, and that it would last so very long. But when the choice we actually have before us is this, But how great would be his astonish- whether we will choose to be happy for the ment, when he learned that we were be-space of only threescore and ten, nay, perings not designed to exist in this world above threescore and ten years; and that the greatest part of this busy species fall short even of that age? How would he be lost in horror and admiration, when he should know that this set of creatures, who lay out all their endeavours for this life, which scarce deserves the name of existence-when, I say, he should know that this set of creatures are to exist to all eternity in another life, for which they make

haps of only twenty or ten years, I might say of only a day or an hour, and miserable to all eternity: or, on the contrary, miserable for this short term of years, and happy for a whole eternity: what words are sufficient to express that folly and want of consideration, which in such a case makes a wrong choice?

I here put the case even at the worst, by supposing, what seldom happens, that a course of virtue makes us miserable in this