-n, but an ill-grounded hope, that it is which they rather deserve, our pity, or Magister artis, ingenique largitor PERS. Prolog. ver. 10. Necessity is the mother of invention. ENGLISH PROVERBS. It is not unpleasant to see a fellow, N° 283. THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 1711-12. ng old in attendance, and after having a life in servitude, call himself the of all men, and pretend to be disapecause a courtier broke his word. He ses himself any thing but what may rise from his own property or labour, eyond the desire of possessing above three even of that, lays up for himreasing heap of afflictions and disapThere are but two means in the world by other men, and these are by being eable or considerable. The generality do all things for their own sakes; and ope any thing from persons above you, ot say, I can be thus agreeable, or able,' it is ridiculous to pretend to the -eing unfortunate when they leave you; judicious in hoping for any other than ted for such as can come within these of being capable to please, or serve , when his humour or interests call for ty either way. LUCIAN rallies the philosophers in his time, who could not agree whether they should admit riches into the number of real goods; the professors of the severer sects threw them quite out, while others as resolutely inserted them. not, methinks, be a useless comparison condition of a man who shuns all the life, and of one who makes it his busue them. Hope in the recluse makes -s comfortable, while the laxurious man g but uneasiness from his enjoyments. difference in the happiness of him who d by abstinence, and his who is surexcess? He who resigns the world has on to envy, hatred, malice, anger, but t possession of a serene mind: he who pleasures of it, which are in their very pointing, is in constant search of care, emorse, and confusion. I am apt to believe, that as the world grew more polite, the rigid doctrines of the first were wholly discarded; and I do not find any one so hardy at present as to deny that there are very great advantages in the enjoyment of a plentiful fortune. Indeed the best and wisest of men, though they may possibly despise a good part of those things which the world calls pleasure, can, I think, hardly be insensible of that weight and dignity which a moderate share of wealth adds to their characters, counsels, and actions. and trades, that the richest members of them are We find it is a general complaint in professions chiefly encouraged, and this is falsely imputed to the ill-nature of mankind, who are ever bestowing their favours on such as least want them. Whereas if we fairly consider their proceedings in this case, we shall find them founded on undoubted reason: since supposing both equal in their natural integrity, I ought, in common prudence, to fear foul play from an indigent person, rather than from one whose circumstances seem to have placed him above the bare temptation of money. This reason also makes the commonwealth regard her richest subjects, as those who are most conTATOR, Jan. the 14, 1712. cerned for her quiet and interest, and consequently Dung woman and have my fortune to fittest to be intrusted with her highest employhich reason I come constantly to church ments. On the contrary, Catiline's saying to those he service, and make conquests: but men of desperate fortunes, who applied themselves ndrance in this my design is, that our to him, and of whom he afterwards composed his was once a gardener, has this Christ-army, that they had nothing to hope for but from decked the church with greens, that he oilt my prospect; insomuch that I have sions he desired. a civil war, was too true not to make the impresthe young baronet I dress at these , though we have both been very condevotions, and do not sit above three he church, as it is now equipped, looks green-house than a place of worship: aisle is a very pretty shady walk, and ok like so many arbours on each side pulpit itself has such clusters of ivy, osemary about it, that a light fellow took occasion to say, that the congrethe word out of a bush, like Moses. Love's pew in particular is so well all my batteries have no effect. I am shoot at random among the boughs, ng any manner of aim. Mr. Spectaou will give orders for removing these all grow a very awkward creature at soon have little else to do there but rayers. I am in haste, 'Dear SIR, 'Your most obedient servant, JENNY SIMPER.' T. I believe I need not fear but that what I have cient with most of my readers to excuse the subsaid in praise of money, will be more than suffiject of my present paper, which I intend as an essay on the ways to raise a man's fortune, or the art of growing rich. The first and most infallible method towards the attaining of this end is thrift. All men are not Never do that by proxy which you can do yourself. A third instrument of growing rich is method in business, which, as well as the two former, is also attainable by persons of the meanest capacities. | The famous De Witt, one of the greatest states- of brick-dust, and having disposed of it into seve men of the age in which he lived, being asked by ral papers, writ upon one, Poison for monsieur;' a friend, how he was able to dispatch that multitude upon a second, Poison for the dauphin;' and on of affairs in which he was engaged? replied, that a third, Poison for the king.' Having made this his whole art consisted in doing one thing at once. provision for the royal family of France, he laid If,' says he, I have any necessary dispatches to his papers so that his landlord, who was an inquimake, I think of nothing else until those are fi-sitive man, and a good subject, might get a sight nished; if any domestic affairs require my atten- of them. tion, I give myself up wholly to them until they are set in order.' In short, we often see men of dull and phlegmatic tempers arriving to great estates, by making a regular and orderly disposition of their business, and that without it the greatest parts and most lively imaginations rather puzzle their affairs, than bring them to an happy issue. From what has been said, I think I may lay it down as a maxim, that every man of good common sense may, if he pleases, in his particular station of life, most certainly be rich. The reason why we sometimes see that men of the greatest capacities are not so, is either because they despise wealth in comparison of something else; or at least are not content to be getting an estate, unless they may do it in their own way, and at the same time enjoy all the pleasures and gratifications of life. But besides these ordinary forms of growing rich, it must be allowed that there is room for genius as well in this, as in all other circumstances of life. Though the ways of getting money were long since very numerous, and though so many new ones have been found out of late years, there is certainly still remaining so large a field for invention, that a man of an indifferent head might easily sit down and draw up such a plan for the conduct and support of his life, as was never yet once thought of. We daily see methods put in practice by hungry and ingenious men, which demonstrate the power of invention in this particular. It is reported of Scaramouch, the first famous Italian comedian, that being at Paris and in great want, he bethought himself of constantly plying near the door of a noted perfumer in that city, and when any one came out who had been buying snuff, never failed to desire a taste of them: when he had by this means got together a quantity made up of several different sorts he sold it again at a lower rate to the same perfumer, who finding out the trick, called it Tabac de mille fleurs,' or Snuff of a thousand flowers.' The story further tells us, that by this means he got a very comfortable subsistence, until making too much haste to grow rich, he one day took such an unreasonable pinch out of the box of a Swiss officer, as engaged him in a quarrel, and obliged him to quit this ingenious way of life. Nor can I in this place omit doing justice to a youth of my own country, who, though he is scarce yet twelve years old, has with great industry and application attained to the art of beating the grenadiers march on his chin. I am credibly informed that by this means he does not only maintain himself and his mother, but that he is laying up money every day, with a design, if the war continues, to purchase a drum at least, if not a pair of colours. I shall conclude these instances with the device of the famous Rabelais, when he was at a great distance from Paris, and without money to bear his expenses thither. This ingenious author being thus sharp set, got together a convenient quantity The plot succeeded as he desired. The host gave immediate intelligence to the secretary of state. The secretary presently sent down a special messenger, who brought up the traitor to court, and provided him, at the king's expense, with proper accommodations on the road. As soon as he appeared, he was known to be the celebrated Rabelais, and his powder upon examination being found very innocent, the jest was only laughed at; for which a less eminent droll would have been sent to the gallies. Trade and commerce might doubtless be still varied a thousand ways, out of which would arise such branches as have not yet been touched. The famous Doily is still fresh in every one's memory, who raised a fortune by finding out materials for such stuffs as might at once be cheap and genteel. I have heard it affirmed, that had not he discovered this frugal method of gratifying our pride, we should hardly have been able to carry on the last war. I regard trade not only as highly advantageous to the commonwealth in general, but as the most natural and likely method of making a man's fortune; having observed, since my being a Spectator in the world, greater estates got about Change, than at Whitehall or St. James's. I believe I may also add, that the first acquisitions are generally attended with more satisfaction, and as good a conscience. I must not, however, close this essay, without observing, that what has been said is only intended for persons in the common ways of thriving, and is not designed for those men who from low beginnings push themselves up to the top of states, and the most considerable figures in life. My maxim of saving is not designed for such as these, since nothing is more usual than for thrift to disappoi the ends of ambition; it being almost impossible that the mind should be intent upon trifles, while u is at the same time forming some great design. I may therefore compare these men to a grea poet, who, as Longinus says, while he is full of the most magnificent ideas, is not always at leisur to mind the little beauties and niceties of his art. I would, however, have all my readers tak great care how they mistake themselves for uncom mon geniuses, and men above rule, since it is ver easy for them to be deceived in this particular. BUDGELL. No 284. FRIDAY, JANUARY 25, 1711-12. Posthabui tamen illorum meu seria ludo. An unaffected behaviour is without question a ver great charm; but under the notion of being unco strained and disengaged, people take upon the to be unconcerned in any duty of life. A gener negligence is what they assume upon all occasion and set up for an aversion to all manner of be ness and attention. I am the carelessest creatu 1 284. in the world, I have certainly the worst memory of any man living,' are frequent expressions in the mouth of a pretender of this sort. It is a professed maxim with these people never to think ; there is something so solemn in reflection, they, forsooth, can never give themselves time for such a way of employing themselves. It happens often that this sort of man is heavy enough in his nature to be a good proficient in such matters as are attainable by industry; but, alas! he has such an ardent desire to be what he is not, to be too volatile, to have the faults of a person of spirit, that he professes himself the most unfit man living for any manner of application. When this humour enters into the head of a female, she generally professes sickness upon all occasions, and acts all things with an indisposed air. She is offended, but her mind is too lazy to raise her to anger, therefore she lives only as actuated by a violent spleen, and gentle scorn. She has hardly curiosity to listen to scandal of her acquaintance, and has never atten tion enough to hear them commended. This affectation in both sexes makes them vain of being useless, and take a certain pride in their insignificancy. Opposite to this folly is another no less unreasonable, and that is, the impertinence of being always in a hurry.' There are those who visit ladies, and beg pardon, before they are well seated in their chairs, that they just called in, but are obliged to attend business of importance elsewhere the very next moment. Thus they run from place to place, professing that they are obliged to be still in another company than that which they are in. These persons who are just a going somewhere else should never be detained; let all the world allow that business is to be minded, and their affairs will be at an end. Their vanity is to be importuned, and compliance with their multiplicity of affairs would effectually dispatch them. The travelling ladies, who have half the town to see in an afternoon, may be pardoned for being in constant hurry; but it is inexcusable in men to come where they have no business, to profess they absent themselves where they have. It has been remarked by some nice observers and critics, that there is nothing discovers the true temper of a person so much as his letters. I have by me two epistles, which are written by two people of the different bumours above-mentioned. It is wonderful that a man cannot observe upon himself when he sits down to write, but that he will gravely commit bimself to paper the same man that he is in the freedom of conversation. I have hardly scen a line from any of these gentlemen, but spoke them as absent from what they were doing, as they profess they are when they come into company. For the folly is, that they have persuaded themselves they really are busy. Thus their whole time is spent in suspense of the present moment to the next, and then from the next to the succeeding, which, to the end of life, is to pass away with pretence to many things, and execution of nothing. SIR, THE post is just going out, and I have many other letters of very great importance to write this evening, but I could not omit making my compliments to you for your civilities to me when I was last in town. It is my misfortune to be so full of busiBess, that I cannot tell you a thousand things which I have to say to you. I must desire you to com municate the contents of this to no one living; but MADAM, SIR, STEPHEN COURIER.' 'I HATE writing, of all things in the world; how- BRIDGET EITHERDOWN. 'The fellow is of your country; pr'ythee send me word, however, whether he has so great an estate.' MR. SPECTATOR, Jan. 24, 1712. 'I AM clerk of the parish from whence Mrs. Sim- X X See the last letter in N° 282. means: therefore humbly pray the boughs may be | are used in ordinary conversation, become too fa fixed, until she shall give security for her peaceable intentions. miliar to the ear, and contract a kind of meannes by passing through the mouths of the vulgar; a poct should take particular care to guard himself against idiomatic ways of speaking. Ovid and Lucan have many poornesses of expression upon this account, as taking up with the first phrases that offered, without putting themselves to the trouble of looking after such as would not only have been No 285. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1711-12. natural, but also elevated and sublime. Miltos Ne, quicunque Deus, quicunque adhibebitur heros, But then they did not wrong themselves so much, Nor (to avoid such meanness) soaring high, ROSCOMMON. HAVING already treated of the fable, the characters, and sentiments in the Paradise Lost*, we are, in the last place, to consider the language; and as the learned world is very much divided upon Milton as to this point, I hope they will excuse me if I appear particular in any of my opinions, and incline to those who judge the most advantageously of the author. It is requisite that the language of an heroic poem should be both perspicuous and sublime. In proportion as either of these two qualities are wanting, the language is imperfect. Perspicuity is the first and most necessary qualification; insomuch that a good-natured reader sometimes overlooks a little slip even in the grammar or syntax, where it is impossible for him to mistake the poet's sense. Of this kind is that passage in Milton, wherein he speaks of Satan: God and his Son except, Created thing nought valued he nor shunn'd: and that in which he describes Adam and Eve: It is plain, that in the former of these passages, according to the natural syntax, the divine persons mentioned in the first line are represented as created beings; and that, in the other, Adam and Eve are confounded with their sons and daughters. Such little blemishes as these, when the thought is great and natural, we should, with Horace, impute to a pardonable inadvertency, or to the weakness of human nature, which cannot attend to each minute particular, and give the last finishing to every circumstance in so long a work. The ancient critics, therefore, who were acted by a spirit of candour, rather than that of cavilling, invented certain figures of speech, on purpose to palliate little errors of this nature in the writings of those authors who had so many greater beauties to atone for them. If clearness and perspicuity were only to be consulted, the poet would have nothing else to do but to clothe his thoughts in the most plain and natural expressions. But since it often happens that the most obvious phrases, and those which • Nos. 267, 273, 279. has but few failings in this kind, of which, bowever, you may meet with some instances, as in the following passages: Embrios and idiots, eremites and friars, White, black, and grey, with all their trumperg, A while discourse they hold. No fear lest dinner cool; when thus began Who of all ages to succeed, but feeling The great masters in composition knew very well that many an elegant phrase becomes improper for a poet or an orator, when it has been de based by common use. For this reason the works of ancient authors, which are written in dead lasguages, have a great advantage over those which are written in languages that are now spoken, Were there any mean phrases or idioms in Virgil and Homer, they would not shock the ear of the most delicate modern reader, so much as they would have done that of an old Greek or Roman, because we never hear them pronounced in our streets, or in ordinary conversation. It is not therefore sufficient, that the language of an epic poem be perspicuous, unless it be also sublime. To this end it ought to deviate from the common forms and ordinary phrases of speech. The judgment of a poet very much discovers itself in shunning the common roads of expression, without falling into such ways of speech as may seem stiff and unnatural: he must not swell into a false sublime, by endeavouring to avoid the other extreme. Among the Greeks, Eschylus, and sometimes Sophocles, were guilty of this fault; among the Latins, Claudian and Statius; and among our own countrymen, Shakspeare and Lee. In these authors the affectation of greatness often hurts the perspicuity of the style, as in many others the endeavour after perspicuity prejudices its greatness. Aristotle has observed, that the idiomatic style may be avoided, and the sublime formed, by the following methods. First, by the use of metaphors; such are those of Milton: Imparadis'd in one another's arms. In these, and innumerable other instances, the metaphors are very bold but just: I must however observe, that the metaphors are not so thick sowa that they never clash with one another, which, as in Milton, which always savours too much of wit; Aristotle observes, turns a sentence into a kind of an enigma or riddle; and that he seldom has recourse to them where the proper and natural words will do as well. Another way of raising the language, and giving 4. e. Actuated. This word is frequently so used in the it a poetical turn, is to make use of the idioms of Spectator; as also by Locke and Dr, South. other tongues. Virgil is full of the Greek forms of the critics call Hellenisms, as Horace wounds with them much more than Virnot mention the several dialects which made use of for this end. Milton, in ith the practice of the ancient poets, stotle's rule, has infused a great many = well as Græcisms, and sometimes nto the language of his poem; as toginning of it: y not perceive the evil plight h the palpable obscure find out both ascend ns of God. BOOK II. = head may be reckoned the placing after the substantive, the transposition ➡ turning the adjective into a substanveral other foreign modes of speech Det has naturalized, to give his verse ound, and throw it out of prose. ethod mentioned by Aristotle, is what he genius of the Greek language more at of any other tongue, and is thereed by Homer than by any other poet. ngthening of a phrase by the addition ich may either be inserted or omitted, extending or contracting of particular - insertion or omission of certain syl. on has put in practice this method of nguage, as far as the nature of our ermit, as in the passage above-menite, for what is hermit in common you observe the measure of his verse, creat judgment suppressed a syllable ords, and shortened those of two sylone; by which method, besides the oned advantage, he has given a greater s numbers. But this practice is more remarkable in the names of persons tries, as Beelzebub, Hessebon, and in particulars, wherein he has either name, or made use of that which is commonly known, that he might the from the language of the vulgar. reason recommended to him several hich also makes his poem appear the ple, and gives it a greater air of an kewise take notice, that there are in al words of his own coining, as cerbeated, hell-doomed, embryon, atoms, and - If the reader is offended at this liEnglish poet, I would recommend course in Plutarch, which shows us how Homer has made use of the same li y the above-mentioned helps, and by f the noblest words and phrases which would afford him, has carried our langreater height than any of the English ever done before or after him, and blimity of his style equal to that of his -en the more particular in these obserMilton's style, because it is that part of h he appears the most singular. The have here made upon the practice of - with my observations out of Aristotle, will perhaps alleviate the prejudice which some have taken to his poem upon this account; though, after all, I must confess that I think his style, though admirable in general, is in some places too much stiffened and obscured by the frequent use of those methods which Aristotle has prescribed for the raising of it, This redundancy of those several ways of speech which Aristotle calls foreign language,' and with which Milton has so very much enriched, and in some places darkened the language of his poem, was the more proper for his use, because his poem is written in blank verse. Rhyme, without any other assistance, throws the language off from prose, and very often makes an indifferent phrase pass unregarded; but where the verse is not built upon rhymes, there pomp of sound and energy of expression are indispensably necessary to support the style, and keep it from falling into the flatness of prose. Those who have not a taste for this elevation of style, and are apt to ridicule a poet when he departs from the common forms of expression, would do well to see how Aristotle has treated an ancient author called Euclid, for his insipid mirth upon this occasion. Mr. Dryden used to call these sort of men his prose-critics, I should, under this head of the language, consider Milton's numbers, in which he has made use of several elisions, which are not customary among other English poets, as may be particularly observed in his cutting off the letter Y, when it precedes a vowel. This, and some other innovations in the measure of his verse, has varied his numbers in such a manner, as makes them incapable of satiating the ear, and cloying the reader, which the same uniform measure would certainly have done, and which the perpetual returns of rhyme never fail to do in long narrative poems, I shall close these reflections upon the language of Paradise Lost with observing, that Milton has copied after Homer rather than Virgil in the length of his periods, the copiousness of his phrases, and the running of his verses into one another, 'MR. SPECTATOR, York, Jan. 18, 1711-12. I PRETEND not to inform a gentleman of so much taste, whenever he pleases to use it; but it may not be amiss to inform your readers, that there is a false delicacy as well as a true one. True delicacy, as I take it, consists in exactness of judgment and dignity of sentiment, or, if you will, purity of affection, as this is opposed to corruption and grossness. There are pedants in breeding, as well as in learning. The eye that cannot bear the light is A good constitution apnot delicate, but sore. pears in the soundness and vigour of the parts, not in the squeamishness of the stomach; and a false delicacy is affectation, not politeness. What then can be the standard of delicacy, but truth and virtue? Virtue, which, as the satirist long since observed, is real honour; whereas the other distinctions among mankind are merely titular. Judging by that rule, in my opinion, and in that of many of your virtuous female readers, you are so far |