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,
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 publicly upon this occasion; and I hope the town will be entertained with a cavalcade of widows.‡

*See Nos. 290 and 335.

Qui Deorum-
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati,
Pejusque letho fagitium timet;
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 unSee 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 copy hold lands, apparitions-For wickedness, condemned which the wife, being married, a virgin hath after the decease of her husband for a dower. Fitzherbert calls by her own witness, is very timorous, and, this a custom by which, in some cities, the wife shall being oppressed with conscience, always have all the lands of her husband for dower.-Les Ter 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

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.

of that darkness which should afterwards and contentment. Even under the pains of receive them; but yet were they unto them- body, the infidelity of friends, or the misselves, more grievous than the darkness." constructions put upon our laudable acTo fear, so justly grounded, no remedy tions; our minds, when for some time accuscan be proposed; but a man (who hath no tomed to these pressures, are sensible off great guilt hanging upon his mind, who secret flowings of comfort, the present rewalks in the plain path of justice and in- ward of a pious resignation. The evils of tegrity, and yet, either by natural complex- this life appear like rocks and precipices, ion, or confirmed prejudices, or neglect of rugged and barren at a distance; but in our serious reflection, suffers himself to be nearer approach we find little fruitful spots moved by this abject and unmanly passion) and refreshing springs, mixed with the would do well to consider, that there is harshness and deformities of nature. nothing which deserves his fear, but that In the last place, we may comfort cebeneficent Being who is his friend, his pro-selves with this consideration, that, as the tector, his father. Were this one thought thing feared may not reach us, so we may strongly fixed in the mind, what calamity not reach what we fear. Our lives may 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 of a just good man is so nobly set forth by Horace, that it cannot be too often repeated:

The man resolv'd 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 remove:
Not the red arm of angry Jove,

That flings the thunder from the sky.

And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly.

not extend to that dreadful point which we have in view. He who knows all our fullings, 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.

No. 616.] Friday, November 5, 1714.
Qui bellus homo est, Cotta, pasilius homo est.
Mart. Egag, 1. L
A pretty fellow is but half a man.

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

Should the whole frame of nature round him break, plays in the features before it discovers it

In ruin and confusion hurl'd,

He, unconcern'd, would hear this mighty crack,
And stand secure amidst a falling world.'

The vanity of fear may be yet farther illustrated if we reflect,

self in words, it raises too great an expectation, and loses the advantage of giving surprise. Wit and humour are no less poorly recommended by a levity of phrase, and that kind of language which may be First, what we fear may not come to pass. distinguished by the name of cant. RidNo human scheme can be so accurately cule is never more strong than when it is projected, but some little circumstance in-concealed in gravity. True humour bes tervening may spoil it. He who directs in the thought, and arises from the reprethe heart of man at his pleasure, and un-sentation of images in odd circumstances derstands 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.

and uncommon lights. A pleasant thought strikes us by the force of its natural beauty; and the mirth of it is generally rather palled than heightened, by that ridiculous phraseology which is so much in fashion among the pretenders to humour and pleasantry. This tribe of men are like our mountebanks; they make a man a wit by putting him in a fantastic habit.

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 calami- Our little burlesque authors, who are ties, so there is no adversity without its be-the delight of ordinary readers, generally nefits. Ask the great and powerful, if abound in these pert phrases, which have they do not feel the pangs of envy and am-in them more vivacity than wit. bition. Inquire of the poor and needy, if they have not tasted the sweets of quiet

• Wisd. xvii. passim.

I lately saw an instance of this kind of writing, which gave me so lively an ea of it, that I could not forbear begging a copy of the letter from the gentleman who

showed it to me. It is written by a country wit, upon the occasion of the rejoicings on the day of the king's coronation.

'Past two o'clock, and a frosty morning, DEAR JACK, I have just left the right worshipful and his myrmidons about a sneaker of five gallons. The whole magistracy was pretty well disguised before I gave them the slip. Our friend the alderman was half-seas over before the bonfire was out. We had with us the attorney, and two or three other bright fellows. The doctor plays least in sight.

'At nine o'clock in the evening we set fire to the whore of Babylon. The devil acted his part to a miracle. He has made his fortune by it. We equipped the young dog with a tester a piece. Honest old Brown of England was very drunk, and showed his loyalty to the tune of a hundred rockets. The mob drank the king's health, on their marrow bones, in mother Day's double. They whipped us half a dozen hogsheads. Poor Tom Tyler had like to have been demolished with the end of a sky-rocket, that fell upon the bridge of his nose as he was drinking the king's health, and spoiled his tip. The mob was very loyal till about midnight, when they grew a little mutinous for more liquor. They had like to have dumbfounded the justice; but his clerk came in to his assistance, and

took them all down in black and white.

'When I had been huzzaed out of my seven senses, I made a visit to the women, who were guzzling very comfortably. Mrs. Mayoress clipped the king's English.

Clack was the word.

I forgot to tell thee, that every one of the posse had his hat cocked with a distich; the senators sent us down a cargo of riband and metre for the occasion.

'Sir Richard, to show his zeal for the Protestant religion, is at the expense of a tar-barrel and a ball. I peeped into the knight's great hall, and saw a very pretty bevy of spinsters. My dear relict was amongst them, and ambled in a country dance as notably as the best of them.

May all his majesty's liege subjects love him as well as his good people of this his ancient borough! Adieu.

of that little pert phraseology which I took notice of in my last paper; the other in the affectation of strained and pompous expressions, fetched from the learned languages. The first savours too much of the town; the other of the college.

As nothing illustrates better than example, I shall here present my reader with a letter of pedantic humour, which was written by a young gentleman of the university to his friend, on the same occasion, and from the same place, as the lively epistle published in my last Spectator:

'DEAR CHUM,-It is now the third watch of the night, the greatest part of which I have spent round a capacious bowl of China, filled with the choicest products of both the Indies. I was placed at a quadrangular table, diametrically opposite to the mace-bearer. The visage of that venerable herald was, according to custom, most gloriously illuminated on this joyful occasion. The mayor and aldermen, those pillars of our constitution, began to totter; and if any one at the board could have so far articulated, as to have demanded intelligibly a re-inforcement of liquor, the whole assembly had been by this time extended under the table.

'The celebration of this night's solemnity was opened by the obstreperous joy of drummers, who, with their parchment thunder, gave a signal for the appearance of the mob under their several classes and denominations. They were quickly joined by the melodious clank of marrow-bones and cleavers, while a chorus of bells filled up the concert. A pyramid of stack-fagots cheered the hearts of the populace with the promise of a blaze: the guns had no sooner uttered the prologue, but the heavens were brightened with artificial meteors and stars of our own making: and all the High-street lighted up from one end to another with a galaxy of candles. We collected a largess for the multitude, who tippled eleemosynary until they grew exceeding vociferous. There was a pasteboard pontiff, with a little swarthy demon at his elbow, who, by his diabolical whispers and insinuations, tempted his holiness into the fire, and then

left him to shift for himself. The mobile were very sarcastic with their clubs, and gave the old gentleman several thumps upon his triple head-piece.* Tom Tyler's phiz is something damaged by the fall of a rocket, which hath almost spoiled the gnomon of his countenance. The mirth of the commons grew so very outrageous, that it found work for our friend of the quorum, who, by the help of his amanuensis, took down all their names and their crimes, with a design to produce his manuscript at the next quarter sessions, &c. &c.'

I shall subjoin to the foregoing piece of a letter the following copy of verses translated from an Italian poet, who was the

* The Pope's tiara, or triple mitre.

Cleveland of his age, and had multitudes | No. 618.] Wednesday, November 10, 1714. of admirers. The subject is an accident that happened under the reign of Pope Leo, when a fire-work, that had been prepared upon the castle of St. Angelo, began to play before its time, being kindled by a flash of lightning. The author has written a poem in the same kind of style as that I have already exemplified in prose. Every line in it is a riddle, and the reader must be forced to consider twice or thrice, before he will know that the Cynic's tenement is a tub, and Bacchus's cast-coat a hogshead, &c.

MR. SPECTATOR,-You have in mur two last Spectators given the town a cle of remarkable letters in different stris: I take this opportunity to offer to you some remarks upon the epistolary way ee w ing in verse. This is a species of poetry by itself; and has not so much as been hinted

•Twas night, and heaven, a Cyclops all the day, at in any of the Arts of Poetry that have

The clouds envelop'd heaven from human sight; love-letters, letters of friendship, and let

styles, sentiments, and informations, which are transmitted to me, would lead a very curious, or very idle reader, insensiblyalong through a great many pages.

I know some authors who would pick up

trations, his comparisons, and the greatest part of his images, must be drawn from common life. Strokes of satire and criticism, as well as panegyric, judiciously thrown in, (and as it were by the by,) give a wonderful life and ornament to composi-a secret history out of such materials, and tions of this kind. But let our poet, while he writes epistles, though never so familiar, still remember that he writes in verse, and must for that reason have a more than ordinary care not to fall into prose, and a vulgar diction, excepting where the nature and humour of the thing does necessarily require it. In this point, Horace has been thought by some critics to be sometimes careless, as well as too negligent of his versification; of which he seems to have been sensible himself.

All I have to add is, that both these manners of writing may be made as entertaining, in their way, as any other species of poetry, if undertaken by persons duly qualified; and the latter sort may be managed so as to become in a peculiar manner instructive. I am, &c.'

make a bookseller an alderman by the copy. I shall therefore carefully preserve the original papers in a room set apart for that purpose, to the end that they may be of service to posterity; but shall at present content myself with owning the receipt of several letters, lately come to my hands, the authors whereof are impatient for an answer.

Charissa, whose letter is dated from Cornhill, desires to be eased in some scruples relating to the skill of astrologers.-Referred to the dumb man for an answer.

J. C. who proposes a love case, as he calls it, to the love casuist, is hereby desired to speak of it to the minister of the parish; it being a case of conscience.

The poor young lady, whose letter is dated October 26, who complains of a harsh guardian and an unkind brother, can only have my good wishes, unless she pleases to be more particular.

The remonstrance of T. C. against the profanation of the sabbath by barbers, shoecleaners, &c. had better be offered to the society of reformers.

I shall add an observation or two to the remarks of my ingenious correspondent; and, in the first place, take notice, that The petition of a certain gentleman, subjects of the most sublime nature are whose name I have forgot, famous for reoften treated in the epistolary way with newing the curls of decayed periwigs, is advantage, as in the famous epistle of Ho-referred to the censor of small wares. race to Augustus. The poet surprises us with his pomp, and seems rather betrayed into his subject than to have aimed at it by design. He appears like the visit of a king incognito, with a mixture of familiarity and grandeur. In works of this kind, when the dignity of the subject hurries the poet into descriptions and sentiments, seemingly unpremeditated, by a sort of inspiration, it is usual for him to recollect himself, and fall back gracefully into the natural style of a letter.

I might here mention an epistolary poem, just published by Mr. Eusden, on the king's accession to the throne; wherein, among many other noble and beautiful strokes of poetry, his reader may see this rule very happily observed.

No. 619.] Friday, November 12, 1714.

dura

Exerce imperia, et ramos compesce fluentes.
Virg. Georg. ii. 369.
Exert a rigorous sway,

And lop the two luxuriant boughs away.

I HAVE often thought that if the several letters which are written to me under the

character of Spectator, and which I have not made use of, were published in a volume, they would not be an unentertaining collection. The variety of the subjects,

* A letter to Mr. Addison on the king's accession to the throne.

A learned and laborious treatise upon the art of fencing, returned to the author.

To the gentleman of Oxford, who desires me to insert a copy of Latin verses, which were denied a place in the university books. Answer: Nonum prematur in annum.

To my learned correspondent, who writes against master's gowns, and poke sleeves, with a word in defence of large scarfs. Answer: I resolve not to raise animosities amongst the clergy.

To the lady who writes with rage against one of her own sex, upon the account of party warmth. Answer: Is not the lady she writes against reckoned handsome?

I desire Tom Truelove (who sends me a sonnet upon his mistress, with a desire to print it immediately,) to consider, that it is long since I was in love

I shall answer a very profound letter from my old friend the upholsterer, who is still inquisitive whether the king of Sweden be living or dead, by whispering him in the ear, that I believe he is alive.

Let Mr. Dapperwit consider, What is that long story of the cuckoldom to me?

At the earnest desire of Monimia's lover, who declares himself very penitent, he is recorded in my paper by the name of the faithful Castalio.

The petition of Charles Cocksure, which †They were published in 1725, by Charles Lillie, in the petitioner styles 'very reasonable,'

2 vols. 8vo.

rejected.