The great philosopher, Citophilus, said one day to a justly
disconsolate lady--"Madam, an English Queen, a daughter of the great
Henry IV. was no less unhappy than you are. She was driven from her
kingdom: she narrowly escaped death in a storm at sea: she beheld her
royal husband perish on the scaffold." "I am sorry for her;" said the
lady--and fell a weeping at her own misfortunes.
"But," said Citophilus, "remember Mary Stuart. She was very becomingly
in love with a gallant musician, with a fine _tenor_ voice. Her husband
slew the musician before her face: and then her good friend and
relation, Elizabeth, who called herself the Virgin Queen, had her
beheaded on a scaffold hung with black, after an imprisonment of
eighteen years." "That was very cruel," replied the lady--and she
plunged again into sorrow.
"You have perhaps heard," said her comforter, "of the fair Jane of
Naples, who was taken prisoner and strangled?" "I have a confused
recollection of her," said the afflicted one.
"I must tell you," added the other, "the fate of a Queen, who, within
my own time, was dethroned by night, and died in a desert island." "I
know all that story," answered the lady.
"Well then, I will inform you of what befel a great princess, whom I
taught philosophy. She had a lover, as all great and handsome
princesses have. Her father once entering her chamber, surprised the
lover, whose features were all on fire, and whose eye sparkled like a
diamond: she, too, had a most lively complexion. The young gentleman's
look so displeased the father, that he administered to him the most
enormous box on the ear, ever given in that country. The lover seized a
pair of tongs, and broke the old gentleman's head; which was cured with
difficulty, and still carries the scar. The nymph, in despair, sprung
through the window; and dislocated her foot in such a way, that she to
this day limps perceptibly, though her mien is otherwise admirable. The
lover was condemned to die, for having broken the head of a puissant
monarch. You may judge the condition of the princess, when her lover
was led forth to be hanged. I saw her, during her long imprisonment:
she could speak of nothing but her afflictions."
"Then why would not you have me brood over mine?" said the lady.
"Because," said the philosopher, "you _ought not_ to brood over them;
and because, so many great ladies having been so miserable, it ill
becomes _you_ to despair. Think of Hecuba--of Niobe." "Ah!" said the
lady, "if I had lived in their time, or in that of all your fine
princesses, and you, to comfort them, had told them my misfortunes, do
you think they would have listened to you?"
The next day, the philosopher lost his only son; and was on the point
of dying with grief. The lady had a list prepared, of all the kings who
had lost their children, and carried it to the philosopher: he read it,
found it correct, and----wept on, as much as ever. Three months after,
they met again; and were surprised to find each other cheerful and gay.
They caused a handsome statue to be reared to TIME, with this
inscription:
"TO THE GREAT CONSOLER."