Contents
Contents, p. 8
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Wednesday, October 27, 1714 |
|
Murranum hic atavos et avorum antiqua sonantem
Nomina per regesque actum genus omne Latinos,
Præcipitem scopulo, atque ingentis turbine saxi
Excutit, effunditque solo.
Virg.
translation
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 receiv'd, not demanded, by the
Descendants of great Men; and they who are apt to remind us of their
Ancestors, only put us upon making 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.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'Were the Genealogy of every Family preserved, there would probably be
no Man valued or despis'd on Account of his Birth. There is scarce a
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 same Characters they bore when they acted their
respective Parts among the Living. Suppose therefore a Gentleman, full
of his illustrious Family, should, in the same manner as
Virgil
makes
Æneas look over his Descendants, see the whole Line of his
Progenitors pass in a Review before his Eyes, and with how many
varying Passions would he behold Shepherds and Soldiers, Statesmen and
Artificers, Princes and Beggars, walk in the Procession of five
thousand Years! How would his Heart sink or flutter at the several
Sports of Fortune in a Scene so diversified with Rags and Purple,
Handicraft Tools and Scepters, Ensigns of Dignity and Emblems of
Disgrace; and how would his Fears and Apprehensions, his Transports
and Mortifications, succeed one another, as the Line of his Genealogy
appear'd bright or obscure?
'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 Rusticks, without hope of seeing them emerge again: Not
unlike the old
Appian Way, which after having run many Miles in
Length, loses it self 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
discover'd, 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 Eye over the Boughs of this venerable
Plant; and asked my Advice in the Reforming of some of the superfluous
Branches.
'We passed slightly over three or four of our immediate Fore-fathers,
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
Grasier; 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 encreased the Estate; he was just a 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 of our Ancestors, who was hanged for stealing
Sheep. The Expectations of my good Cousin were wonderfully raised by a
Match into the Family of a Knight, but unfortunately for us this
Branch proved Barren: On the other hand
Margery the Milk-maid being
twined round a Bough, it flourished out into so many Shoots, and bent
with so much Fruit, that the old Gentleman was quite out of
Countenance. To comfort me, under this Disgrace, he singled out a
Branch ten times more fruitful than the other, which, he told me, he
valued more than any in the Tree, and bad me be of good Comfort. This
enormous Bough was a Graft out of a
Welsh Heiress, with so many
Ap's upon it that it might have made a little Grove by it self. 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
Yeomen; 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.
'This Tree so pruned, dressed, and cultivated, was, within 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 till his Worship is ready to go to Church;
wondering that a Man who had so many Fathers before him, should not be
made a
Knight1, or at least a Justice of the Peace.'
Footnote 1:
Lord,
Contents
Contents, p. 8
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 my
self. As first, Young and modest Writers have an Opportunity of getting
into Print: Again, The Town enjoys the Pleasure of Variety; and
Posterity will see the Humour of the present Age, by the help of these
little Lights into private and domestick 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 publick Good; give
Advice; redress Grievances; and, by leaving commodious Spaces between
the several Letters that I print, furnish out a
Spectator
with little
Labour and great Ostentation.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I was mightily pleased with your Speculation of
Friday. Your
Sentiments are Noble, and the whole worked 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 tho' light
Minds are too much puffed up with exterior Pomp, yet I cannot see why
it is not as truly Philosophical, 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 lye concealed from the World, I should impute it to
them as a Blot in their Character, did not I believe it owing to the
Meanness of their Fortune rather than of their Spirit.
Cowley, who
tells the Story of
Aglaüs 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?
was the Result of a laudable Ambition. It was not till after frequent
Disappointments, that he termed himself the Melancholy
Cowley; and
he praised Solitude, when he despair'd of shining in a Court. The Soul
of Man is an active Principle. He therefore, who withdraws himself
from the Scene before he has play'd his Part, ought to be hissed off
the Stage, and cannot be deemed Virtuous, because he refuses to answer
his End. I must own I am fired with an honest Ambition to imitate
every illustrious Example. The Battles of
Blenheim and
Ramillies
have more than once made me wish my self a Soldier. And when I have
seen those Actions so nobly celebrated by our Poets, I have secretly
aspir'd to be one of that distinguished Class. But in vain I wish, in
vain I pant with the De
Sir e of Action. I am chained down in Obscurity,
and the only Pleasure I can take is in seeing so many brighter
Genius's join their friendly Lights, to add to the Splendor of the
Throne. Farewel then dear
Spec, and believe me to be with great
Emulation, and no Envy,'
Your profess'd Admirer,
Will. Hopeless.
Middle-Temple, October 26, 1714.
Sir ,
'Tho' you have formerly made
Eloquence the Subject of one or more of
your Papers, I do not remember that you ever consider'd 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
amongst 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
Man who has a Heart one Degree softer than a Stone. As for my part,
who don't 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 is a greater Admirer of that Sex than my self. What I
have to de
Sir e 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 my self 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 which soever of these two Capacities
I shine, I shall always de
Sir e to be your constant Reader, and ever
will be'
Your most humble Servant,
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 Small-Pox, out of
which I am just recovered, tormented 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 my self on that
pleasing Subject, I resolved to apply my self 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 don't despair, but that Loss, by your Assistance, may in some
measure be reparable, if you'll 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 de
Sir ous to be a Lover
incognito, always addressed me with
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,
indangered my Life by getting out of Bed, to prevent, if it had been
attempted, the Discovery of that Amour.
'I have formerly made use of all those Artifices, which our Sex daily
practises 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 Levée; 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
Complacencies, fall into Disputes before me of Politicks, 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 shew you what a Value I have for your Dictates, these are to
certify the Persons concern'd, that unless one of them returns to his
Colours, (if I may so call them now) before the Winter is over, I'll
voluntarily confine my self to a Retirement, where I'll punish them
all with my Needle. I'll be reveng'd on them by deciphering them on a
Carpet, humbly begging Admittance, my self scornfully refusing it: If
you disapprove of this, as favouring 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.
Contents
Contents, p. 8
Si mihi non animo fixum, immotumque sederet,
Ne cui me vinclo vellem sociare jugali,
Postquam primus amor deceptam morte fefellit;
Si non pertæsum thalami, tedæque fuisset:
Huic uni forsan potui succumbere culpæ.
Virg.
translation
The following Account hath been transmitted to me by the Love Casuist.
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 drew 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:
'Q. Whether Amoret be bound by a Promise of Marriage to
Philander, made during her Husband's Life?
'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 chase 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 enquires, Whether she hath not the Right of Widowhood, to
dispose of her self 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, till such time as she hath
comfortably disposed of her self?
'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 deSir es 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 her 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 Sett 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 generous in this State of Life, when
it is accompanied with all its Virtues, that it is the Subject of one of
the finest among our modern Tragedies in the Person of
Andromache
; and
hath met with an 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, till 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
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 Copy-hold Lands
, dum sola & casta fuerit;
that is
, while she
lives single and chaste;
but if she commit 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
Free-Bench
.
Here I am,
Riding upon a Black Ram,
Like a Whore as I am;
And, for my Crincum Crancum,
Have lost my Bincum Bancum;
And, for my Tail's Game,
Have done this worldly Shame;
Therefore, I pray you Mr. Steward, let me have my Land again.
The like Custom there is in the Manor of
Torre
in
Devonshire
, and
other Parts 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
publickly upon this Occasion; and I hope the Town will be entertained
with a Cavalcade of Widows.
Footnote 1:
Frank Bank or Free bench are copyhold lands which the wife,
being married a spinster, had after her husband's death for dower.
Contents
Contents, p. 8
|
Wednesday, November 3, 1714 |
|
—Qui Deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati,
Pejusque letho flagitium timet:
Non ille pro caris amicis
Aut patriâ timidus perire.
Hor.
translation
It must be owned that Fear is a very powerful Passion, since it is
esteemed one of the greatest of Virtues to subdue it. It being implanted
in us for our Preservation, it is no Wonder 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 grey in the Space of one Night's Anxiety is very famous;
O! Nox, quam longa es, quæ facis una Senem.
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
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 fetter'd
with the Bonds of a long Night, lay here exiled from the eternal
Providence. For while they supposed to lye hid in their secret Sins,
they were scattered under a dark Veil of Forgetfulness, being horribly
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 of that Darkness which should afterwards receive them; but yet
were they unto themselves more grievous than the Darkness.'
1
To Fear, so justly grounded, no Remedy can be proposed; but a Man (who
hath no great Guilt hanging upon his Mind, who walks in the plain Path
of Justice and Integrity, and yet either by natural Complection, or
confirmed Prejudices, or Neglect of serious Reflection, suffers himself
to be moved by this abject and unmanly Passion) would do well to
consider, That there is nothing which deserves his Fear, but that
beneficent Being who is his Friend, his Protector, his Father. Were this
one Thought strongly fixed in the Mind, what Calamity would be dreadful?
What Load can Infamy lay upon us when we are sure of the Approbation of
him, who will repay the Disgrace of a Moment with the Glory of Eternity?
What Sharpness is there in Pain and Diseases, when they only hasten us
on to the Pleasures that will never fade? What sting is in Death, when
we are assured that it is only the Beginning of Life? A Man who lives
so, as not to fear to die, is inconsistent with himself, if he delivers
himself up to any incidental Anxiety.
The Intrepidity
a just good Man is so nobly set forth by
Horace
,
that it cannot be too often repeated.
The Man resolved and steady to his Trust,
Inflexible to Ill, and obstinately just,
May the rude Rabble's Insolence despise,
Their senseless Clamours and tumultuous Cries;
The Tyrant's Fierceness he beguiles,
And the stern Brow, and the harsh Voice defies,
And with superior Greatness smiles.
Not the rough Whirlwind, that deforms
Adria's
black Gulf, and vexes it with Storms,
The stubborn Virtue of his Soul can move;
Not the Red Arm of angry Jove,
That flings the Thunder from the Sky,
And gives it Rage to roar, and Strength to fly.
Should the whole Frame of Nature round him break,
In Ruin and Confusion hurl'd,
He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty Crack,
And Stand secure amidst a falling World.2
The Vanity of Fear may be yet farther illustrated, if we reflect,
First
, What we fear may not come to pass. No human Scheme can be so
accurately projected, but some little Circumstance intervening may spoil
it. He, who directs the Heart of Man at his Pleasure, and understands
the Thoughts long before, may by ten thousand Accidents, or an immediate
Change in the Inclinations of Men, disconcert the most subtle Project,
and turn it to the Benefit of his own Servants.
In the next Place we should consider, though the Evil we imagine should
come to pass, it may be much more supportable than it appeared to be. As
there is no prosperous State of Life without its Calamities, so there is
no Adversity without its Benefits, Ask the Great and Powerful, if they
do not feel the Pangs of Envy and Ambition. Enquire of the Poor and
Needy, if they have not tasted the Sweets of Quiet and Contentment. Even
under the Pains of Body; the Infidelity of Friends; or the
Misconstructions put upon our laudable Actions, our Minds (when for some
Time accustomed to these Pressures) are sensible of secret Flowings of
Comfort, the present Reward of a pious Resignation. The Evils of this
Life appear like Rocks and Precipices, rugged and barren at a Distance,
but at our nearer Approach, we find little fruitful Spots, and
refreshing Springs, mixed with the Harshness and Deformities of Nature.
In the last Place, we may comfort our selves with this Consideration;
that, as the Thing feared may not reach us, so we may not reach what we
fear: Our Lives may not extend to that dreadful Point which we have in
View. He who knows all our Failings, and will not suffer us to be
tempted beyond our Strength, is often pleased in his tender Severity, to
separate the Soul from its Body and Miseries together.
If we look forward to him for Help, we shall never be in Danger of
falling down those Precipices which our Imagination is apt to create.
Like those who walk upon a Line, if we keep our Eye fixed upon one
Point, we may step forward securely; whereas an imprudent or cowardly
Glance on either Side will infallibly destroy us.
Footnote 1:
Wisd. xvii.
passim.
Footnote 2:
Horace, Bk III.
Od.
3.
Contents
Contents, p. 8
Qui bellus homo est, Cotta, pusillus homo est.
Martial.
translation
Cicero
hath observed, that a Jest is never uttered with a better
Grace, than when it is accompanied with a serious Countenance. When a
pleasant Thought plays in the Features, before it discovers it self in
Words, it raises too great an Expectation, and loses the Advantage of
giving Surprize. Wit and Humour are no less poorly recommended by a
Levity of Phrase, and that kind of Language which may be distinguished
by the Name of