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 cut 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. 'We passed slightly over three or four of our immediate forefathers, whom we -Studiis florentem ignobilis oti. Virg. Georg. iv. 564. knew by tradition, but were soon stopped Affecting studies of less noisy praise.-Dryden. by an alderman of London, who I perceived made my kinsman's heart go pit-a-pat. It is reckoned a piece of ill-breeding for His confusion increased when he found the one man to engross the whole talk to himalderman's father to be a grazier; but he self. For this reason, since I keep three recovered his fright upon seeing justice of visiting-days in the week, I am content now the quorum at the end of his titles. Things and then to let my friends put in a word. went on pretty well as we threw our eyes There are several advantages hereby acoccasionally over the tree, when unfor- cruing both to my readers and myself. As tunately he perceived a merchant-tailor first, young and modest writers have an opperched on a bough, who was said greatly portunity of getting into print; again, the to have increased the estate; he was just town enjoys the pleasures of variety; and going to cut him off if he had not seen gent. posterity will see the humour of the present after the name of his son; who was record- age, by the help of these lights into private ed to have mortgaged one of the manors his and domestic life. The benefits I receive honest father had purchased. A weaver, from thence are such as these: I gain more who was burnt for his religion in the reign time for future speculations: pick up hints of queen Mary, was pruned away without which I improve for the public good; give mercy; as was likewise a yeoman, who advice; redress grievances; and, by leav died of a fall from his own cart. But greating commodious spaces between the several was our triumph in one of the blood who letters that I print, furnish out a Spectator, was beheaded for high treason: which ne- with little labour and great ostentation. vertheless was not a little allayed by another 'MR. SPECTATOR---I was mightily pleasof our ancestors who was hanged for steal-ed with your speculation of Friday. Your

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 pennyless, 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,

sentiments are noble, and the whole worked | man who has a heart one degree softer than up in such a manner as cannot but strike upon every reader. But give me leave to make this remark; that while you write so pathetically on contentment, and a retired life, you sooth the passion of melancholy, and depress the mind from actions truly glorious. Titles and honours are the reward of virtue; we therefore ought to be affected with them; and though light minds are too much puffed up with exterior pomp, yet I cannot see why it is not as truly phifosophical to admire the glowing ruby, or the sparkling green of an emerald, as the fainter and less permanent beauties of a rose or a myrtle. If there are men of extraordinary capacities, who lie concealed from the world, I should impute it to them as a blot in their characters, did not I believe it owing to the meanness of their fortune rather than of their spirit. Cowley, who tells the story of Aglaus with so much pleasure, was no stranger to courts, nor insensible of praise.

"What shall I do to be for ever known,
And make the age to come my own?"

It

was the result of a laudable ambition.
was not until after frequent disappoint-
ments that he termed himself the melan-
choly Cowley; and he praised solitude when
he despaired of shining in a court. The
soul of man is an active principle. He,
therefore, who withdraws himself from the
scene before he has played his part, ought |
to be hissed off the stage, and cannot be
deemed virtuous, because he refuses to an-
swer his end. I must own I am fired with
an honest ambition to imitate every illus-
trious example. The battles of Blenheim
and Ramilies have more than once made
me wish myself a soldier. And, when I
have seen those actions so nobly celebrated
by our poets, I have secretly aspired to be
one of that distinguished class. But in vain
I wish, in vain I pant with the desire of ac-
tion. I am chained down in obscurity, and
the only pleasure I can take is in seeing so
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

'J. B.'

SIR,-Upon reading a Spectator last week, where Mrs. Fanny Fickle submitted the choice of a lover for life to your decisive determination, and imagining I might claim the favour of your advice in an affair of the like, but much more difficult nature, I called for pen and ink, in order to draw the characters of seven humble servants, whom I have equally encouraged for some time. But, alas! while I was reflecting on the agreeable subject, and contriving an advantageous description of the dear person I was most inclined to favour, I happened to look into my glass. The sight of the smallpox, out of which I am just recovered, tor mented me at once with the loss of my captivating arts and my captives. The confusion I was in, on this unhappy, unseasonable discovery, is inexpressible. Believe me, sir, I was so taken up with the thoughts of your fair correspondent's case, and so intent on my own design, that I fancied myself as triumphant in my conquests as ever.

'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?

'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?

'I have formerly made use of all those Q. Whether Sempronia, having faithartifices which our sex daily practise over fully given a promise to two several persons yours, to draw, as it were, undesignedly, during the last sickness of her husband, is the eyes of a whole congregation to my not thereby left at liberty to choose which pew; I have taken a pride in the number of of them she pleases, or to reject them both admirers at my afternoon levee; but am for the sake of a new lover? 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 such advice from them rather seems to insult than comfort me, and reminds me too much of what I was: which melancholy consideration I cannot yet perfectly surmount, 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,
Ne cui me vinclo vellem sociare jugali,
Postquam primus amor deceptam morte fefellit;
Si non pertæsum thalami, tædæque fuisset;
Huic uni forsan potui succumbere culpæ.

Virg. En. iv. 15.

-Were I not resolved against the yoke
Of hapless marriage; never to be curs'd
With second love, so fatal was the first,
To this one error I might yield again.-Dryden.
THE following account hath been trans-
mitted to me by the love casuist.

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?

A scrupulous well-spoken matron, who gives me a great many good words, only doubts whether she is not obliged, in conscience, 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 dif ferent characters or circumstances wherein they are left, that widows may be divided into those who raise love and those who raise compassion.

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.

But, not to ramble from this subject, there are two things in which consists chiefly the 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Having in some for-glory of a widow-the love of her deceased mer 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:

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

Qui Deorum-
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati,
Pejusque letho fagitium timet;

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.t

* See Nos. 290 and 335.

Non ille pro caris amicis
Aut patria timidus perire.

Hor. Od. ix. Lib. 4. 47.

Who spend their treasure freely as 'twas giv'n
By the large bounty of indulgent heav'n;
Who in a fix'd unalterable state

Smile at the doubtful tide of fate,
And scorn alike her friendship and her hate:
Who poison less than falsehood fear,
Loath to purchase life so dear;

But kindly for their friend embrace cold death,
And seal their country's love with their departing
breath.-Stepney.

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. Latin, Francus Bancus is that estate in copyhold lands, which the wife, being married, a virgin hath after the 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 Ter

mes de la Ley, edit. 1667, p. 575.

See 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 and validity of statute law. Jacob's Dict. ut supra,

edit. 1736, in folio.

ribly astonished and troubled with strange apparitions-For wickedness, condemned 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 were hindered in their labour. Over them only was spread a heavy night, an image