pondents, one of whom sends me the follow-heels fly up, by a trip which was given him so ing letter: smartly that I could scarce discern it. I found that the old wrestlers seldom entered the ring " SIR, until some one was grown formidable by hav'Though you are pleased to retire from using thrown two or three of his opponents; but so soon into the city, I hope you will not think kept themselves as it were in a reversed body the affairs of the country altogether unworthy to defend the hat, which is always hung up of your inspection for the future. I had the by the person who gets it in one of the most honour of seeing your short face at Sir Roger conspicuous parts of the house, and looked de Coverley's, and have ever since thought upon by the whole family as something reyour person and writings both extraordinary. dounding much more to their honour than a Had you staid there a few days longer, you coat of arms. There was a fellow who was would have seen a country wake, which you so busy in regulating all the ceremonies, and know in most parts of England is the eve-feast seemed to carry such an air of importance in of the dedication of our churches. I was his look, that I could not help inquiring who last week at one of these assemblies, which he was, and was immediately answered, "That was held in a neighbouring parish; where I he did not value himself upon nothing, for found their green covered with a promiscuous that he and his ancestors had won so many multitude of all ages and both sexes, who hats. that his parlour looked like a haberdaesteem one another more or less the following sher's shop." However, this thirst of glory in part of the year, according as they distinguish them all was the reason that no one man stood themselves at this time. The whole company" lord of the ring" for above three falls while were in their holyday clothes, and divided into I was among them. several parties, all of them endeavouring to show themselves in those exercises wherein they excelled, and to gain the approbation of the lookers on. "it 'The young maids, who were not lookers-on at these exercises, were themselves engaged in some diversions: and upon my asking a farmer's son of my own parish what he was gazing at with so much attention, he told me, "That he was seeing Betty Welch," whom I knew to be his sweetheart, " pitch a bar." Sir, Your's, &c. 'I found a ring of cudgel-players, who were breaking one another's heads in order to make some impression on their mistresses' hearts. I observed a lusty young fellow, who had the 'In short, I found the men endeavoured to misfortune of a broken pate; but what consi-show the women they were no cowards, and derably added to the anguish of the wound, that the whole company strived to recom. was his overhearing an old man, who shook mend themselves to each other by making it his head and said, "That he questioned now appear that they were all in a perfect state of if Black Kate would marry him these three health, and fit to undergo any fatigues of boyears." I was diverted from a farther ob-dily labour. servation of these combatants by a foot-ball 'Your judgment upon this method of love match, which was on the other side of the and gallantry, as it is at present practised green; where Tom Short behaved himself so among us in the country, will very much well, that most people seemed to agree, oblige, was impossible that he should remain a bachelor until the next wake." Having played many a match myself, I could have looked longer on this sport, had I not observed a country girl, If I would here put on the scholar and powho was posted on an eminence at some dis-litician, I might inform my readers how these tance from me, and was making so many odd bodily exercises or games were formerly engrimaces, and writhing and distorting her couraged in all the commonwealths of Greece; whole body in so strange a manner, as made from whence the Romans afterwards borrowed me very desirous to know the meaning of it. their pentathlum, which was composed of runUpon my coming up to her, I found that she ning, wrestling, leaping, throwing, and boxwas overlooking a ring of wrestlers, and that ing, though the prizes were generally nothing her sweetheart, a person of small stature, was but a crown of cypress or parsley, hats not contending with a huge brawny fellow, who being in fashion in those days: that there is twirled him about, and shook the little man so an old statute, which obliges every man in violently, that by a secret sympathy of hearts England, having such an estate, to keep and it produced all those agitations in the person excercise the long-bow; by which means our of his mistress, who I dare say, like Cælia in ancestors excelled all other nations in the use of Shakspeare on the same occasion, could have that weapon, and we had all the real advantawished herself "invisible to catch the strong ges, without the inconvenience of a standing fellow by the leg."* The 'squire of the parish army and that I once met with a book of protreats the whole company every year with a jects, in which the author considering to what hogshead of ale; and proposes a beaver hat noble ends that spirit of emulation, which so as a recompense to him who gives most falls. remarkably shows itself among our common This has raised such a spirit of, emulation in the youth of the place, that some of them have rendered themselves very expert at this exercise; and I was often surprised to see a fellow's * As You Like it. Act i. Sc. 6. VOL. 1. people in these wakes, might be directed, proposes that for the improvement of all our handicraft trades there should be annual prizes set up for such persons as were most excellent in their several arts. But laying aside all these political considerations, which might tempt me 27 to pass the limits of my paper. I confess the man's conviction ought to be be very strong, greatest benefit and convenience that I can ob- and if possible so well timed, that worldly adserve in these country festivals, is the bringing vantages may seem to have no share in it, or young people together, and giving them an op- mankind will be ill-natured enough to think he portunity of showing themselves in the most does not change sides out of principle, but advantageous light. A country fellow that either out of levity of temper, or prospects of throws his rival upon his back, has generally interest. Converts and renegadoes of all kinds as good success with their common mistress; should take particular care to let the world see as nothing is more usual than for a nimble-foot- they act upon honourable motives; or, whated wench to get a husband at the same time ever approbations they may receive from themthat she wins a smock. Love and marriages selves, and applauses from those they converse are the natural effects of these anniversary as-with, they may be very well assured that they semblies. I must therefore very much approve are the scorn of all good men, and the public the method by which my correspondent tells marks of infamy and derision. me each sex endeavours to recommend itself Irresolution on the schemes of life which ofto the other, since nothing seems more likely fer themselves to our choice, and inconstancy to promise a healthy offspring, or a happy in pursuing them, are the greatest and most cohabition. And I believe I may assure my universal causes of all our disquiet and unhapcountry friend, that there has been many a piness. When ambition pulls one way, intercourt lady who would be contented to ex-est another, inclination a third, and perhaps change her crazy young husband for Tom reason contrary to all, a man is likely to pass Short, and several men of quality who would have parted with a tender yoke-fellow for Black Kate. I am the more pleased with having love made the principal end and design of these meetings, as it seems to be most agreeable to the intent for which they were at first instituted, as we are informed by the learned Dr. Kennet,* with whose words I shall conclude my present paper. his time but ill who has so many different parties to please. When the mind hovers among such a variety of allurements, one had better settle on a way of life that is not the very best we might have chosen, than grow old without determining our choice, and go out of the world as the greatest part of mankind do, before we have resolved how to live in it. There is but one method of setting ourselves at rest in this particular, and that is by adhering steadThese wakes, (says he), were in imitation fastly to one great end as the chief and ultiof the ancient ajáza, or love-feasts; and mate aim of all our pursuits. If we are firmly were first established in England by Pope resolved to live up to the dictates of reason, Gregory the Great, who in an epistle to Me- without any regard to wealth, reputation, or litus the abbot, gave order that they should be the like considerations, any more than as they kept in sheds or arbories made up with the fall in with our principal design, we may go branches and boughs of trees round the through life with steadiness and pleasure; church.' but if we act by several broken views, and He adds, that this laudable custom of wakes will not only be virtuous, but wealthy, popuprevailed for many ages, until the nice puri-lar, and every thing that has a value set upon tans began to exclaim against it as a remnant it by the world, we shall live and die in misery of popery; and by degrees the precise humour and repentance. grow so popular, that at an Exeter assizes the Lord Chief Baron Walter made an order for the suppression of all wakes; but on Bishop Laud's complaining of this innovating humour, the king commanded the order to be reversed.' X. No. 162.] One would take more than ordinary care to guard one's self against this particular imperfection, because it is that which our nature very strongly inclines us to; for if we examine ourselves thoroughly, we shall find that we are the most changeable beings in the universe. In respect of our understanding, we often embrace and reject the very same opinions; whereas being above and beneath us have probably no opinions at all, or at least no wavering and uncertainties in those they have. Our Hor. Ars Poet. v. 126. superiors are guided by intuition, and our in Wednesday, September 5, 1711. Servetur ad imum, Keep one consistent plan from end to end. NOTHING that is not a real crime makes a man appear so contemptible and little in the eyes of the world as inconstancy, especially when it regards religion or party. In either of these cases, though a man perhaps does but his duty in changing his side, he not only makes himself hated by those he left, but is seldom heartily esteemed by those he comes over to. feriors by instinct. In respect of our wills, we fall into crimes and recover out of them, are amiable or odious in the eyes of our great Judge, and pass our whole life in offending and asking pardon. On the contrary, the beings underneath us are not capable of sinning, nor those above us of repenting. The one is out of the possibilities of duty, and the other used in an eternal course of sin, or an eternal course of virtue. There is scrrce a state of life, or stage in it, which does not produce changes and revoluIn these great articles of life, therefore, a tions in the mind of man. Our schemes of Parochial Antiquities, 4to. 1695, p. 610, 614. thought in infancy are lost in those of youth; these too take a different turn in manhood, un -Si quid ego adjuero, curamve levasso till old age often leads us back into our former No. 163.] Thursday, September 6, 1711. infancy. A new title or an unexpected success throws us out of ourselves, and in a manner destroys our identity. A cloudy day, or a little sunshine, have as great an influence on many constitutions, as the most real blessing Say, will you thank me if I bring you rest, or misfortune. A dream varies our being, and And ease the torture of your troubled breast? changes our condition while it lasts; and every INQUIRIES after happiness, and rules for rapassion, not to mention health and sickness and the greater alterations in body and mind, taining it, are not so necessary and useful to makes us appear almost different creatures. If mankind as the arts of consolation, and supThe uta man is so distinguished among other beings porting one's self under affliction. by this infirmity, what can we think of such as most we can hope for in this world is conmake themselves remarkable for it even among tentment; if we aim at any thing higher, we their own species? It is a very trifling cha-shall meet with nothing but grief and disapracter to be one of the most variable beings pointment. A man should direct all his stuof the most variable kind, especially if we dies and endeavours at making himself easy consider that he who is the great standard of now, and happy hereafter. perfection has in him no shadow of change, The truth of it is, if all the happiness that is but is the same yesterday, to day, and for dispersed through the whole race of mankind in this world were drawn together, and put into ever.' make a very happy being. Though on the contrary, if the miseries of the whole species were fixed in a single person, they would make a very miserable one. As this mutability of temper and inconsis-the possession of any single man, it would not tency with ourselves is the greatest weakness of human nature, so it makes the person who is remarkable for it in a very particular manner more ridiculous than any other infirmity whatsoever, as it sets him in a greater variety of I am engaged in this subject by the followfoolish lights, and distinguishes him from him- ing letter, which, though subscribed by a ficself by an opposition of party-coloured cha-titious name, I have reason to believe is not racters. The most humorous character in imaginary. Horace is founded upon this unevenness of temper and irregularity of conduct: Sardus habebat Ille Tigellius hoc: Cæsar, qui cogere posset, 'MR.. SPECTATOR, 'I am one of your disciples, and endeavour to live up to your rules, which I hope will incline you to pity my condition. I shall open it to you in a very few words. About three years since, a gentleman, whom, I am sure, you yourself would have approved, made his addresses to me. He had every thing to recommend him but an estate, so. that my friends, who all of them applauded his person, would not for the sake of both of us favour his pasetsion. For my own part, I resigned myself up Instead of translating this passage in Horace, I shall entertain my English reader with the description of a parallel character, that is wonderfully well finished by Mr, Dryden, and raised upon the same foundation : eutirely to the direction of those who knew the world much better than myself, but still lived in hopes that some juncture or other would make me happy in in the man, whom, in my heart, I preferred to all the world; being determined if I could not have him, to have nobody else. About three months ago I received a letter from him, acquainting me, that by the death of an uncle he had a considerable estate left him, which he said 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 happiness. You may well suppose, sir, with how much joy I received this letter, which was followed by several others filled with those expressions of love and joy, which I verily believe nobody felt more sincerely, nor knew better how to describe than the gentleman I am speaking of. But, sir, how shall I be able to tell it you! By the last week's post I received a letter from an intimate friend of this unhappy gentleman, acquainting nie, that as he had just settled his affairs, and was preparing for his journey, he * "Absalom and Ahithophel." It is perhaps unneces- to express to you the distress I am in upon this fell sick of a fever and died. It is impossible sary to observe, that the character of Zimri is that of George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, author of the "Re- occasion. I can only have recourse to my devotions and to the reading of good books for In the first rank of these did Zimri stand: hearsal." C. my consolation; and as I always take a parti-of my affiicted disciple, that possibly what she cular delight in those frequent advices and now looks upon as the greatest misfortune, is admonitions which you give the public, it not really such in itself. For my own part, would be a very great piece of charity in you I question not but our souls in a separate state to lend me your assistance in this conjuncture. will look back on their lives in quite another If after the reading of this letter you find view, than what they had of them in the body; yourself in a humour, rather to rally and ridi-and that what they now consider as misfortunes cule, than to comfort me, I desire you would and disappointments, will very often appear to throw it into the fire, and think no more of it; have been escapes and blessings. but if you are touched with my misfortune, which is greater than I know how to bear, your counsels may very much support, and will infinitely oblige, the afflicted ' LEONORA.' The mind that hath any cast towards devotion, naturally flies to it in its afflictions. When I was in France I heard a very remarkable story of two lovers, which I shall relate at length in my to-morrow's paper, not only because the circumstances of it are exA disappointment in love is more hard to traordinary, but because it may serve as an get over than any other; the passion itself so illustration to all that can be said on this last softens and subdues the heart, that it disables head, and show the power of religion in abating it from struggling or bearing up against the that peculiar anguish which seems to lie so woes and distresses which befal it. The mind heavy on Leonora. The story was told me by meets with other misfortunes in her whole a priest, as I travelled with him in a stagestrength; she stands collected within herself, coach. I shall give it my reader as well as I and sustains the shock with all the force which can remember, in his own words, after having is natural to her; but a heart in love has its foundation sapped, and immediately sinks under the weight of accidents that are disagreeable to its favourite passion. premised, that if consolations may be drawn from a wrong religion and a misguided devotion, they cannot but flow much more naturally from those which are founded upon reason and L. Illa, Quis et me, inquit, miseram, et te perdidit, Orpheu? ** Virg. Georg. iv. 494. In affliction men generally draw their con-established in good sense. solations out of books of morality, which indeed are of great use to fortify and strengthen the mind against the impressions of sorrow. Mon- No. 164.] Friday, September 7, 1711. sieur St. Evremont, who does not approve of this method, recommends authors who are apt to stir up mirth in the mind of the readers, and fancies Don Quixote can give more relief to a 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 some tempers. I should rather have recourse to authors of a quite contrary kind, that give us instances of calamities and misfortunes, and show human nature in its greatest distresses. Then thus the bride: What fury seiz'd on thee, CONSTANTIA was a woman of extraordinary wit and beauty, but very unhappy in a father, who having arrived at great riches by his own industry, took delight in nothing but his money. Theodosius* was the younger son of á decayed family, of great parts and learning, improved If the afflictions we groan under be very heavy, we shall find some consolation in the society of as great sufferers 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 ourselves and our fellow-suf-by a genteel and virtuous education. When he was in the twentieth year of his age he ferers. A loss at sea, a fit of sickness, or the became acquainted with Constantia, who had death of a friend, are such trifles, when we not then passed her fifteenth. As he lived but consider whole kingdoms laid in ashes, families put to the sword, wretches shut up in dun-a few miles distant from her father's house, he geons, and the like calamities of mankind, that had frequent opportunities of seeing her; and we are out of countenance for our own weak-by the advantages of a good person and a ness, if we sink under such little strokes of for-pleasing conversation, made such an impres sion on her heart as it was impossible for time to efface. He was himself no less smitten with Let the disconsolate Leonora consider, that Constantia. at the very time in which she languishes for still discover new beauties in each other, and A long acquaintance made them the loss of her deceased lover, there are per- by degrees raised in them that mutual passion sons in several parts of the world just perishing which had an influence on their following lives. in a shipwreck; others crying out for mercy It unfortunately happened, that in the midst in the terrors of a death-bed repentance; oth-of this intercourse of love and friendship be ers lying under the tortures of an infamous ex- tween Theodosius and Constantia, there broke ecution, or the like dreadful calamities; and she will find her sorrows vanish at the appear-rents, the one valuing himself too much upon out an irreparable quarrel between their paance of those which are so much greater and more astonishing. tune. * Dr. Langhorne's Theodosius and Constantia is found I would further propose to the considerationed upon this paper. his birth, and the other upon his possessions. | religion, to which her afflictions had so enThe father of Constantia was so incensed at tirely subjected her mind, that after some the father of Theodosius, that he contracted years had abated the violence of her sorrows, an unreasonable aversion towards his son, in- and settled her thoughts in a kind of transomuch that he forbade him his house, and quillity, she resolved to pass the remainder of charged his daughter upon her duty, never to her days in a convent. Her father was not see him more. In the mean time, to break displeased with a resolution, which would save off all communication between the two lovers, money in his family, and readily complied with who he knew entertained secret hopes of some his daughter's intentions. Accordingly in the favourable opportunity that should bring them twenty-fifth year of her age, while her beauty together, he found out a young gentleman of a was yet in all its height and bloom, he cargood fortune and an agreeable person, whom ried her to a neighbouring city, in order to he pitched upon as a husband for his daughter. look out a sisterhood of nuns among whom to He soon concerted this affair so well, that he place his daughter. There was in this place told Constantia it was his design to marry her a father of a convent who was very much to such a gentleman, and that her wedding renowned for his piety and exemplary life; should be celebrated on such a day. Constan- and as it is usual in the Romish church for tia, who was overawed with the authority of those who are under any great affliction, or her father, and unable to object any thing trouble of mind, to apply themselves to the against so advantageous a match, received the most eminent confessors for pardon and conproposal with a profound silence, which her solation, our beautiful votary took the opporfather commended in her, as the most decent tunity of confessing herself to this celebrated manner of a virgin's giving her consent to an father. overture of that kind. The noise of this in- We must now return to Theodosius, who, tended marriage soon reached Theodosius, the very morning that the above-mentioned who after a long tumult of passions, which inquiries had been made after him, arrived naturally rise in a lover's heart on such an occasion, writ the following letter to Constantia. at a religious house in the city where now Constantia resided; and desiring that secrecy and concealment of the fathers of the convent, 'The thought of my Constantia, which for occasion, he made himself one of the order, which is very usual upon any extraordinary some years has been my only happiness, is with a private vow never to enpuire after Connow become a greater torment to me than Istantia; whom he looked upon as given away am able to bear. Must I then live to see you to his rival upon the day on which, according another's? The streams, the fields and mea- to common fame, their marriage was to have dows, where we have so often talked together, been solemnized. Having in his youth made grow painful to me; life itself is become a burden. May you long be happy in the world, but forget that there was ever such a man in it as 'THEODOSIUS.' dicate himself more entirely to religion, he a good progress in learning, that he might deentered into holy orders, and in a few years became renowned for his sanctity of life, and those pious sentiments which he inspired into all who conversed with him. It was this holy man to whom Constantia had determined to apply herself in confession, though neither she nor any other, besides the prior of the convent, knew any thing of his name or family. The gay, the amiable Theodosius had now taken upon him the name of Father Francis, and was so far concealed in a long beard, a shaven head, and a religious habit, that it was impossible to discover the man of the world in the This letter was conveyed to Constantia that very evening, who fainted at the reading of it; and the next morning she was much more alarmed by two or three messengers, that came to her father's house, one after another, to inquire if they had heard any thing of Theodosius, who it seems had left his chamber about midnight, and could no where be found. The deep melancholy which had hung upon his mind some time before made them apprehend the worst that could befal him. Constantia, who knew that nothing but the report of her venerable conventual. marriage could have driven him to such extre- As he was one morning shut up in his conmities, was not to be comforted. She now ac-fessional, Constantia kneeling by him opened cused herself of having so tamely given an ear the state of her soul to him; and after having to the proposal of a husband, and looked upon given him the history of a life full of innothe new lover as the murderer of Theodosius. cence, she burst out into tears, and entered In short, she resolved to suffer the utmost ef- upon that part of her story in which he himfects of her father's displeasure, rather than self had so great a share. 'My behavionr,' says comply with a marriage which appeared to her she, 'has I fear been the death of a man who so full of guilt and horror. The father seeing had no other fault but that of loving me too himself entirely rid of Theodosius, and likely to much. Heaven only knows how dear he was keep a considerable portion in his family, was to me whilst he lived, and how bitter the rememnot very much concerned at the obstinate re-brance of him had been to me since his death.' fusal of his daughter; and did not find it very She here paused, and lifted up her eyes that difficult to excuse himself upon that account to streamed with tears towards the father; who his intended son-in-law, who had all along re- was so moved with the sense of her sorrows, garded this alliance rather as a marriage of that he could only command his voice, which convenience than of love. Constantia had now was broke with sighs and sobbings, so far as no relief but in her devotions and exercises of to bid her proceed. She followed his directions, |