-1 and passions in all ages, I thought it very proper to take minutes of what passed in that age, for the instruction of this. The antiquary who lent me these papers, gave me a character of Eucrate, the favourite of Pharamond, extracted from an author who lived in that court. The account he gives both of the prince and this his faithful friend, will not be improper to insert here, because I may have occasion to mention many of their conversations, into which these memorials of them may give light. 'Pharamond, when he had a mind to retire for an ' hour or two from the hurry of business and fatigue of ceremony, made a signal to Eucrate, by putting his hand to his face, placing his arm negligently on a window, or some such action as appeared indifferent to all the rest of the company. Upon such notice, unobserved by others (for their entire intimacy was always a secret) Eucrate repaired to his own apartment to receive the King. There was a secret access to this part of the court, at which Eucrate used to admit many whose mean appearence in the eyes of the ordina: y waiters and doorkeepers made them to he repulsed from other parts of the palace. Such as these were let in here by the order of Eucrate, and had audiences of Pharamond. This entrance Pharamond called The Gate of the Unhappy, ' and the tears of the afflicted who came before him, he would say, were bribes received by Eucrate; for Eucrate had the most compassionate spirit of all men living, except his generous master, who was always kindled at 'the least affliction which was communicated to him. In 6 6 the regard for the miserable, Eucrate took particular care, that the common forms of distress, and the idle pretenders to sorrow, about courts, who wanted only supplies to luxury, should never obtain favour by his means but the distresses which arise from the many inexplicable cccurrences that happen among men, the unaccountable alienation of parents from their children, cruelty of husbands to their wives, poverty occasioned from shipwreck or fire, the falling out of friends or such other terrible disasters to which the lite of man is exposed; In cases of this nature, Eucrate was the patron; and enjoyed this part of the royal favour so much with'out being envied, that it was never inquired into by whose 6 66 whose means, what no one else cared for doing, was brought about. 66 One evening when Pharamond came into the apartment of Eucrate, he found him extremely dejected; upon which he asked (with a smile which was natural to him) "What, is there any one co iserable to be "relieved by Pharamond, that Eucrate is melancholy? "I fear there is, answered the favourite, a person without "of a good air, well dressed, and though a man in the strength of his life, seems to faint under some inconso"lable calamity: all his features seems suffused with agony "of mind; but Ican observe in him, that it is more inclin❝ed to break away in tears than rage. I asked him what "he would have? be said he would speak to Pharamond. "I desired his business; he could hardly say to me, Eucrate, carry me to the king, my story is not to be told "twice, I fear I shall not be able to speak it at all."? Pharamond commanded Eucrate o tet him enter; he did so, and the gentleman approached the king with an air which spoke him under the greatest concern in what maner to demean himself. The king, who had a quick discerning, relieved hit from the oppression he was under; and with the most beautiful con placency, said to him, “Sir, do not add to that load of sorrow I see in "your countenance, the awe of my presence: think you are speaking to your friend: if the circumstances of your distress will admit of it, you shall find me so." "To whom the stranger: "O excellent Pharamond, 66 name not a friend to the unfortunate Spinar ent. "had one, but he is dead by mine own hand; but, oh "Pharamond, though it was by the hand of Spinamont, it was by the guilt of Pharan.ond. I come not, ch excellent prince, to implore your warden; I come to "relate my sorrow, a serrow tob great for human life to 66 support: from henceforth shall all occurrences appear "dreams or short intervals of amusement, from this one "affliction which has seized my very bemg: pardon me "ob Pharam ond, if my griefs give me leave, that I lay "before you, in the anguish ofa wounded mind, that you, "good as you are, are guilty of the generous blood spilt "this day by this unhappy hand; oh that it had perished "before that instant Here the stranger paused, 46 66 66 recollée 66 66 66 66 recollecting his mind, after some little meditation, he ⚫ went on in a calmer tone and gesture as follows: "There is an authority due to distress, and as none of human race is above the reach of sorrow, none should be above the hearing the voice cf it: I am sure Phara"mond is not. Know then, that I have this morning "unfortunately killed, in a duel, the man of whom all men 66 living I most loved. I command myself too much in your royal presence, to say, Pharamond, give me my "friend! Pharamond has taken him from me! I will not say, Shall the merciful Pharamond destroy his own subjects? Will the father of his country murder his people! But, the merciful Pharamond does destroy his subjects! "the father of his country does murder his people. Fortune is so much the pursuit of mankind, that all glory "and honour is in the power of a prince, because he has "the distribution of their fortunes. It is therefore the "inadvertency, negligence, or guilt of princes, to let any "thing grow into custom which is against their laws. A "court can make fashion and duty walk together; it can 66 never, without the guilt of a court, happen, that it shall 66 not be unfashionable to do what is unlawful. But alas! "in the dominions of Pharamond, by the force of a tyrant "custom, which is misnamed a point of honour, the duel"list kills his friend whom he loves; and the judge con"demns the duellist, while he approves his behaviour. "Shame is the greatest of all evils; what avail laws, when "death only attends the breach of them, and shame obe"dience to them? As for me? oh Pharamoad were it "possible to describe the nameless kind of compunctions "and tendernesses I feel, when I reflect upon the little "accidents in our former familiarity, my mind swells into sorrow which cannot be resisted enough to be silent in "the presence of Pharamond.” With that he fell into a 'flood of tears, and wept aloud.' Why should not Pha"ramond hear the anguish he only can relieve others from "in time to come? Let him hear from me, what they feel ἐσ who have given death by the false mercy of his admini"stration, and form to himself the vengeance called for "by those who have perished by his negligence.” R No 85. It THURSDAY, June 7. By ADDISON, Interdum speciosa locsi, morataque recte HOR. Ars. Poet. v. 319. Sometimes in rough and undigested plays ROSCOMMON. is the custom of the Mahometans, if they see any printed or written paper upon the ground, to take it up and lay it aside carefully, as not knowing but it may contain some piece of their Alcoran. I must confess I have so much of the Mussulman in me, that I cannot forbear looking into every printed paper which comes in my way, under whatsoever despicable circumstances it may appear; for as no mortal author, in the ordinary fate and vicissitude of things, knows to what use his works may, some time or other, be applied, a man may often meet with very celebrated names in a paper of tobacco. I have lighted my pipe more than once with the writings of a prelate; and know a friend of mine, who, for these several years, has converted the essays of a man of quality into akind of fringe for his candlesticks. I remember in particular, after having read over a poem of an eminent author on a victory, I met with several fragments of it upon the next rejoicing day, which had been employed in squibs and crackers, and by that means celebrated its subject in a double capacity. Ionce met with a page of Mr. Baxter under a Christmas pye. Whether or no the pastry-oook had made use of it through chance or waggery, for the defence of that superstitious viande, I know not; but, upon the perusal of a concer conceived so good an idea of the authors piety, that I bought the whole book. I have often profited by these accidental readings, and have sometimes found very curious pieces, that are either out of print, or not to be met with in the shops of our London booksellers. For this reason, when my friends take a survey of my library, they are very much surprised to find upon the shelf of folios, two long band-boxes standing upright among my books, till I let them see that they are both of them lined with deep erudition and abstruse literature. I might likewise mention a paper-kite from which I have received great improvement; and a hat-case, which I would not exchange for all the beavers in Great Britain. This my inquisitive temper, or rather impertinent humour of prying into all sorts of writing, with my natural aversion to loquacity, give me a good deal of employment when I enter any house in the country; for I cannot for my heart leave a room, before I have throughly studied the walls of it, and examined the several printed papers which are usually pasted upon them. The last piece that I met with upon this occasion gave me a most exquisite pleasure. My reader will think I am not serious, when I acquaint him that the piece I am going to speak of was the old ballad of the Two Children in the Wood, which is one of the darling songs of the common people, and has been the delight of most Englishmen in some part of their age. The song is a plain simple copy of nature, destitute of the helps and ornaments of art. The tale of it is a pretty tragical story, and pleases for no other reason but because it is a copy of nature. There is even a despicable simplicity in the verse; and yet because the sentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to move the mind of the most polite reader with inward meltings of humanity and compassion. The incidents grow out of the subject and are such as are the most proper to excite pity; for which reason the whole narration has something in it very moving, notwithstanding the author of it (whoever he was) has delivered it in such an abject phrase and poorness of expression, that the quoting any part of it would look like a design of turning it into ridicule. But though language is mean, the thoughts, as I have before said, 1 m one end to the other, are natural, and therefore cannot |