I entirely agree with the amiable and unfortunate Lesbia, that an insult upon a woman in her circumstances is as infamous in a man, as a tame behaviour when the lie or a buffet is given: which truth I shall beg leave of her to illustrate by the following observation. It is a mark of cowardice passively to forbear resenting an affront, the resenting of which would lead a man into danger; it is no less a sign of cowardice to affront a creature that hath not power to avenge itself. Whatever name therefore this ungenerous man may bestow on the helpless lady he hath injured, I shall not scruple to give him, in return for it, the appellation of coward. A man that can so far descend from his dignity, as to strike a lady, can never recover his reputation with either sex, because no provocation is thought strong enough to justify such treatment from the powerful towards the weak. In the circumstances in which poor Lesbia is situated, she can appeal to no man whatsoever to avenge an insult more grievous than a blow. If she could open her mouth, the base man knows that a husband, a brother, a generous friend, would die to see her righted. A generous mind, however enraged against an enemy, feels its resentments sink and vanish away when the object of its wrath falls into its power. An estranged friend, filled with jealousy and discontent towards a bosom acquaintance, is apt to overflow with tenderness and remorse, when a creature that was once dear to him undergoes any misfortune. What name then shall we give to his ingratitude, (who forgetting the favours he solicited with eager ness, and received with rapture) can insult the miseries that he himself caused, and make sport with the pain to which he owes his greatest pleasure? There is but one being in the creation whose province it is to practise upon the imbecilities of frail creatures, and triumph in the woes which his own artifices brought about; and we well know those who follow his example will receive his reward. was surprised to find it open, and a glimmering light in the church. He had the courage to advance towards the light; but was terribly startled at the sight of a woman in white, who ascended from a grave with a bloody knife in her hand. The phantom marched up to him, and asked him what he did there. He told her the truth, without reserve, believing that he had met a ghost; upon which she spoke to him in the following manner: 'Stranger, thou art in my power: I am a murderer as thou art. Know then that I am a nun of a noble family. A base perjured man undid me, and boasted of it. I soon had him despatched; but not content with the murder, I have bribed the sexton to let me enter his grave, and have now plucked out his false heart from his body; and thus I use a traitor's heart.' At these words she tore it in pieces and trampled it under her feet. No. 612.] Wednesday, October 27, 1714. IT is highly laudable to pay respect to men who are descended from worthy ancestors, not only out of gratitude to those who have done good to mankind, but as it is an encouragement to others to follow their example. But this is an honour to be received, not demanded, by the descendants mind us of their ancestors only put us upon of great men; and they who are apt to remaking comparisons to their own disadvantage. There is some pretence for boasting of wit, beauty, strength, or wealth, because the communication of them may give pleasure or profit to others; but we can have no merit, nor ought we to claim any respect, because our fathers acted well, whether we would or no. The following letter ridicules the folly I have mentioned in a new, and I think, not disagreeable light, Leaving my fair correspondent to the direction of her own wisdom and modesty; and her enemy, and his mean accomplices, 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Were the genealogy to the compunction of their own hearts; I of every family preserved, there would shall conclude this paper with a memora-probably be no man valued or despised on ble instance of revenge, taken by a Spanish account of his birth. There is scarce a lady upon a guilty lover, which may serve to show what violent effects are wrought by the most tender passion, when soured into hatred; and may deter the young and unwary from unlawful love. The story, however romantic it may appear, I have heard affirmed for a truth. beggar in the streets, who would not find himself lineally descended from some great man; nor any one of the highest title, who would not discover several base and indigent persons among his ancestors. It would be a pleasant entertainment to see one pedigree of men appear together, under the Not many years ago an English gentle- same characters they bore when they acted man, who, in a rencounter by night in the their respective parts among the living. streets of Madrid, had the misfortune to Suppose, therefore, a gentleman, full of his kill his man, fled into a church-porch for illustrious family, should in the same mansanctuary. Leaning against the door, helner Virgil makes Æneas look over his de scendants, see the whole line of his pro-ing sheep. The expectations of my good genitors pass in review before his eyes- cousin were wonderfully raised by a match with how many varying passions would he into the family of a knight; but unforbehold shepherds and soldiers, statesmen tunately for us this branch proved barren: and artificers, princes and beggars, walk in on the other hand, Margery the milk-maid, the procession of five thousand years! How being twined round a bough, it flourished would his heart sink or flutter at the seve-out into so many shoots, and bent with so ral sports of fortune, in a scene so diversi- much fruit, that the old gentleman was fied with rags and purple, handicraft tools quite out of countenance. To comfort me and sceptres, ensigns of dignity, and em- under this disgrace, he singled out a branch blems of disgrace! And how would his ten times more fruitful than the other, fears and apprehensions, his transports and which he told me he valued more than any mortifications, succeed one another, as the in the tree, and bade me be of good comline of his genealogy appeared bright or fort. This enormous bough was a graft out obscure! of a Welsh heiress, with so many Ap's upon it, that it might have made a little grove by itself. From the trunk of the pedigree, which was chiefly composed of labourers and shepherds, arose a huge sprout of farmers: this was branched out into yeoman, and ended in a sheriff of the county, who was knighted for his good service to the crown in bringing up an address. Several of the names that seemed to disparage the family, being looked upon as mistakes, were lopped off as rotten or withered; as, on the contrary, no small number appearing without any titles, my cousin, to supply the defects of the manuscript, added esq. at the end of each of them. In most of the pedigrees hung up in old mansion-houses, you are sure to find the first in the catalogue a great statesman, or a soldier with an honourable commission. The honest artificer that begot him, and all his frugal ancestors before him, are torn off from the top of the register; and you are not left to imagine that the noble founder of the family ever had a father. Were we to trace many boasted lines farther backwards, we should lose them in a mob of tradesmen, or a crowd of rustics, without hope of seeing them emerge again: not unlike the old Appian way, which, after having run many miles in length, loses itself in a bog. ‘I lately made a visit to an old country gentleman, who is very far gone in this sort of family madness. I found him in his study perusing an old register of his family, which he had just then discovered as it was branched out in the form of a tree, upon a skin of parchment. Having the honour to have some of his blood in my veins, he permitted me to cast my eyes over the boughs of this venerable plant; and asked my advice in the reforming of some of the superfluous branches. This tree, so pruned, dressed and cultivated, was, within a few days, transplanted into a large sheet of vellum, and placed in the great hall, where it attracts the veneration of his tenants every Sunday morning, while they wait until his worship is ready to go to church; wondering that a man who had so many fathers before him should not be made a knight, or at least a justice of the peace.' No. 613.] Friday, October 29, 1714. -Studiis florentem ignobilis oti. Virg. Georg. iv. 564. Affecting studies of less noisy praise.-Dryden. It is reckoned a piece of ill-breeding for one man to engross the whole talk to himself. For this reason, since I keep three visiting-days in the week, I am content now and then to let my friends put in a word. There are several advantages hereby accruing both to my readers and myself. As first, young and modest writers have an opportunity of getting into print; again, the town enjoys the pleasures of variety; and posterity will see the humour of the present age, by the help of these lights into private and domestic life. The benefits I receive from thence are such as these: I gain more time for future speculations: pick up hints which I improve for the public good; give advice; redress grievances; and, by leav ing commodious spaces between the several letters that I print, furnish out a Spectator, with little labour and great ostentation. We passed slightly over three or four of our immediate forefathers, whom we knew by tradition, but were soon stopped by an alderman of London, who I perceived made my kinsman's heart go pit-a-pat. His confusion increased when he found the alderman's father to be a grazier; but he recovered his fright upon seeing justice of the quorum at the end of his titles. Things went on pretty well as we threw our eyes Occasionally over the tree, when unfortunately he perceived a merchant-tailor perched on a bough, who was said greatly to have increased the estate; he was just going to cut him off if he had not seen gent. after the name of his son; who was recorded to have mortgaged one of the manors his honest father had purchased. A weaver, who was burnt for his religion in the reign of queen Mary, was pruned away without mercy; as was likewise a yeoman, who died of a fall from his own cart. But great was our triumph in one of the blood who was beheaded for high treason: which nevertheless was not a little allayed by another 'MR. SPECTATOR---I was mightily pleas - ancestors who was hanged for steal-ed with your speculation of Friday. Your sentiments are noble, and the whole worked "What shall I do to be for ever known, man who has a heart one degree softer than a stone. As for my part, who do not pretend to more humanity than my neighbours, I have oftentimes gone from my chambers with money in my pocket, and returned to them not only penny less, but destitute of a farthing, without bestowing of it any other way than on these seeming objects of pity. In short, I have seen more eloquence in a look from one of these despicable creatures than in the eye of the fairest she I ever saw, yet no one a greater admirer of that sex than myself. What I have to desire of you is, to lay down some directions in order to guard against these powerful orators, or else I know nothing to the contrary but I must myself be forced to leave the profession of the law, and endeavour to get the qualifications necessary to that more profitable one of begging. But, in whichsoever of these two capacities I shine, I shall always desire to be your constant reader, and ever will be your most humble servant, 6 'J. B.' SIR,-Upon reading a Spectator last week, where Mrs. Fanny Fickle submitted was the result of a laudable ambition. It the choice of a lover for life to your decisive was not until after frequent disappoint- determination, and imagining I might claim ments that he termed himself the melan- the favour of your advice in an affair of the choly Cowley; and he praised solitude when like, but much more difficult nature, I callhe despaired of shining in a court. The ed for pen and ink, in order to draw the soul of man is an active principle. He, characters of seven humble servants, whom therefore, who withdraws himself from the I have equally encouraged for some time. scene before he has played his part, ought|But, alas! while I was reflecting on the to be hissed off the stage, and cannot be agreeable subject, and contriving an advandeemed virtuous, because he refuses to an- tageous description of the dear person I swer his end. I must own I am fired with was most inclined to favour, I happened to an honest ambition to imitate every illus-look into my glass. The sight of the smalltrious example. The battles of Blenheim pox, out of which I am just recovered, tor and Ramilies have more than once made mented me at once with the loss of my me wish myself a soldier. And, when I captivating arts and my captives. The have seen those actions so nobly celebrated confusion I was in, on this unhappy, unseaby our poets, I have secretly aspired to be sonable discovery, is inexpressible. Believe one of that distinguished class. But in vain me, sir, I was so taken up with the thoughts I wish, in vain I pant with the desire of ac- of your fair correspondent's case, and so intion. I am chained down in obscurity, and tent on my own design, that I fancied mythe only pleasure I can take is in seeing so self as triumphant in my conquests as ever. many brighter geniuses join their friendly lights to add to the splendour of the throne. Farewell, then, dear Spec, and believe me to be with great emulation, and no envy, your professed admirer, WILL HOPELESS.' 'Middle-Temple, Oct. 26, 1714. 'SIR,-Though you have formerly made eloquence the subject of one or more of your papers, I do not remember that you ever considered it as possessed by a set of people, who are so far from making Quintilian's rules their practice, that, I dare say for them, they never heard of such an author, and yet are no less masters of it than Tully or Demosthenes among the ancients, or whom you please among the moderns. The persons I am speaking of are our common beggars about this town; and, that what I say is true, I appeal to any VOL. II. 52 'Now, sir, finding I was incapacitated to amuse myself on that pleasing subject, I resolved to apply myself to you, or your casuistical agent, for advice in my present circumstances. I am sensible the tincture of my skin, and the regularity of my features, which the malice of my late illness has altered, are irrecoverable; yet do not despair but that that loss by your assistance, may, in some measure, be repairable, if you will please to propose a way for the recovery of one only of my fugitives. One of them is in a more particular manner beholden to me than the rest; he, for some private reasons, being desirous to be a lover incognito, always addressed me with a billet-doux, which I was so careful of in my sickness, that I secured the key of my love magazine under my head, and, hearing a noise of opening a lock in my chamber, endangered my life by getting out of bed, to prevent, if it had been attempted, I promise of marriage to Philander, made the discovery of that amour. during her husband's life? 'I have formerly made use of all those artifices which our sex daily practise over yours, to draw, as it were, undesignedly, the eyes of a whole congregation to my pew; I have taken a pride in the number of admirers at my afternoon levee; but am now quite another creature. I think, could I regain the attractive influence I once had, if I had a legion of suitors, I should never be ambitious of entertaining more than one. I have almost contracted an antipathy to the trifling discourses of impertinent lovers; though I must needs own I have thought it very odd of late to hear gentlemen, instead of their usual complaisances, fall into disputes before me of politics, or else weary me with the tedious repetition of how thankful I ought to be, and satisfied with my recovery out of so dangerous a distemper: this, though I am very sensible of the blessing, yet I cannot but dislike, because 'Q. Whether Sempronia, having faithfully given a promise to two several persons during the last sickness of her husband, is not thereby left at liberty to choose which of them she pleases, or to reject them both for the sake of a new lover? 'Cleora asks me, whether she be obliged to continue single according to a vow made to her husband at the time of his presenting her with a diamond necklace; she being informed by a very pretty young fellow, of a good conscience, that such vows are in their nature sinful? Another inquires, whether she hath not the right of widowhood, to dispose of herself to a gentleman of great merit, who presses very hard; her husband being irrecoverably gone in a consumption? 'An unreasonable creature hath the confidence to ask, whether it be proper for her to marry a man who is younger than her eldest son? such advice from them rather seems to insult than comfort me, and reminds me too 'A scrupulous well-spoken matron, who much of what I was: which melancholy gives me a great many good words, only consideration I cannot yet perfectly sur-doubts whether she is not obliged, in conmount, but hope your sentiments on this head will make it supportable. To show you what a value I have for your dictates, these are to certify the persons concerned, that unless one of them returns to his colours, if I may so call them now, before the winter is over, I will voluntarily confine myself to a retirement, where I will punish them all with my needle. I will be revenged on them by decyphering them on a carpet, humbly begging admittance, myself scornfully refusing it. If you disapprove of this, as savouring too much of malice, be pleased to acquaint me with a draught you like better, and it shall be faithfully performed, by the unfortunate 'MONIMIA.' No. 614.] Monday, November 1, 1714. Si mihi non animo fixum immotumque sederet, Virg. Æn. iv. 15. -Were I not resolved against the yoke 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Having in some former papers taken care of the two states of virginity and marriage, and being willing that all people should be served in their turn, I this day draw out my drawer of widows, where I met with several cases, to each whereof I have returned satisfactory answers by the post. The cases are as follow: science, to shut up her two marriageable daughters, until such time as she hath comfortably disposed of herself? 'Sophronia, who seems by her phrase and spelling to be a person of condition, sets forth, that whereas she hath a great estate, and is but a woman, she desires to be informed whether she would not do prudently to marry Camillus, a very idle tall young fellow, who hath no fortune of his own, and consequently hath nothing else to do but to manage hers?' Before I speak of widows, I cannot but observe one thing, which I do not know how to account for; a widow is always more sought after than an old maid of the same age. It is common enough among ordinary people, for a stale virgin to set up a shop in a place where she is not known; where the large thumb-ring, supposed to be given by her husband, quickly recommends her to some wealthy neighbour, who takes a liking to the jolly widow, that would have overlooked the venerable spinster. The truth of it is, if we look into this set of women, we find, according to the different characters or circumstances wherein they are left, that widows may be divided into those who raise love and those who raise compassion. But, not to ramble from this subject, there are two things in which consists chiefly the glory of a widow-the love of her deceased husband, and the care of her children; to which may be added a third, arising out of the former, such a prudent conduct as may do honour to both. A widow possessed of all these three qualities makes not only a virtuous but a sublime character. There is something so great and so gener'Q. Whether Amoret be bound by alous in this state of life, when it is accom panied with all its virtues, that it is the | No. 615.] Wednesday, November 3, 1714. subject of one of the finest among our modern tragedies in the person of Andromache, and has met with a universal and deserved applause, when introduced upon our English stage by Mr. Philips.* The most memorable widow in history is queen Artemisia, who not only erected the famous mausoleum, but drank up the ashes. of her dead lord; thereby enclosing them in a nobler monument than that which she had built, though deservedly esteemed one of the wonders of architecture. This last lady seems to have had a better title to a second husband than any I have read of, since not one dust of her first was remaining. Our modern heroines might think a husband a very bitter draught, and would have good reason to complain, if they might not accept of a second partner until they had taken such a troublesome method of losing the memory of the first. I shall add to these illustrious examples out of ancient story, a remarkable instance of the delicacy of our ancestors in relation to the state of widowhood, as I find it recorded in Cowell's Interpreter. At East and West Enborne, in the county of Berks, if a customary tenant die, the widow shall have what the law calls her free-bench in all his copyhold lands, dum sola et casta fuerit, that is, while she lives single and chaste; but if she commits incontinency she forfeits her estate; yet if she will come into the court riding backward upon a black ram, with his tail in her hand, and say the words following, the steward is bound by the custom to re-admit her to her freebench.† 'Here I am Riding upon a black ram, And for my crincum erancum, Have lost my bincum bancum, The like custom there is in the manor of the west. It is not impossible but I may in a little time present you with a register of Berkshire ladies, and other western dames, who rode publicly upon this occasion; and I hope the town will be entertained with a cavalcade of widows. + *See Nos. 290 and 335. Qui Deorum Hor. Od. ix. Lib. 4. 47. Who spend their treasure freely as 'twas giv'n Smile at the doubtful tide of fate, But kindly for their friend embrace cold death, IT must be owned that fear is a very powerful passion, since it is esteemed one of the greatest virtues to subdue it. It being implanted in us for our preservation, it is no wonder that it sticks close to us as long as we have any thing we are willing to preserve. But as life, and all its enjoyments, would be scarce worth the keeping if we were under a perpetual dread of losing them, it is the business of religion and philosophy to free us from all unnecessary anxieties, and direct our fear to its proper object. If we consider the painfulness of this passion, and the violent effects it produces, we shall see how dangerous it is to give way to it upon slight occasions. Some have frightened themselves into madness, others have given up their lives to these apprehensions. The story of a man who grew gray in the space of one night's anxiety is very famous. 'O nox, quam longa es, quæ facis una senem !' 'A tedious night indeed, that makes a young man old!' These apprehensions if they proceed from a consciousness of guilt, are the sad warnings of reason; and may excite our pity, but admit of no remedy. When the hand of the Almighty is visibly lifted against the impious, the heart of mortal man cannot withstand him. We have this passion sublimely represented in the punishment of the Egyptians, tormented with the plague of darkness in the apocryphal book of Wisdom ascribed to Solomon. For when unrighteous men thought to oppress the holy nation; they being shut up in their houses, the prisoners of darkness, and fettered with the bonds of a long night, lay there exiled from the eternal Providence. For while they supposed to lie hid in their secret sins, they were scattered un† See Jacob's Law Dictionary, art. Free-bench.-der a dark veil of forgetfulness, being horFrank Bank, or Free-bench, [Sedes Libera, or, in Law. ribly astonished and troubled with strange Latin, Francus Bancus] is that estate in copyhold lands, apparitions-For wickedness, condemned decease of her husband for a dower. Fitzherbert calls this a custom by which, in some cities, the wife shall have all the lands of her husband for dower.-Les TerSee No. 623. The custom in the manors of East and West Enborne, of Torre, and other parts in the West of England, is a kind of penance among jocular tenures to purge the offence, and has there, it seems, the force which the wife, being married, a virgin hath after the mes de la Ley, edit. 1667, p. 575. and validity of statute law. Jacob's Dict. ut supra, edit. 1736, in folio. by her own witness, is very timorous, and, being oppressed with conscience, always forecasteth grievous things. For fear is nothing else but a betraying of the succours which reason offereth-For the whole world shined with clear light, and none only was spread a heavy night, an image were hindered in their labour. Over them |