xit HISTORICAL PREFACE TO THE RAMBLER. of his arm chalked out a giant on the wall, was one Richardson, an attorney. Polyphilus, in No. 19, is said to have been drawn from the various studies of Floyer Sydenhem, but no produce of his studies is known except his translations. words we shall borrow on the present occasion. After noticing the mistakes Mr. Boswell had fallen into, on the subject of the perfection of the RAMBLERS at their first appearance, the editor of the "Essayists" says, "Is it not surprising that this friend and companion of our illustrious author, who has obliged the public with the most perfect delineation ever exhibited of any human being, and who declared so often that he was determined 'To lose no drop of that immortal man'.- It has been remarked by the editor of the "British Essayists" that the RAMBLER made its way very slowly into the world. This may be true, if spoken of its appearance in numbers. The style was new; it appeared harsh, involved, and perplexed; it required more than a transitory inspection to be understood; but this repulsive appearance was soon overcome: and few works have been more successful, when reprinted in volumes. It was admired by scholars, and recommended by the friends of religion and literature, as a book by which a man might be taught to think: and the author lived to see ter large editions printed in England, besides those which were clandestinely printed in other parts of Great Britain, in Ireland, and in America. For some years past the demand for it has been greater than for any of the "British Essayists;" its in-re-wrote, although it must not be taken in its fluence on the literature of the age has been great. Dr. Johnson is certainly not to be imitated with perfect success, yet the attempt to imitate him, where it has neither been servile or artificial, has elevated the style of every species of literary composition. "In every thing we perceive more vigour, more spirit, more elegance. He not only began a revolution in our language, but lived till it was almost completed." It has already been said that Dr. Johnson set a high value on the RAMBLER, and it may now be added that he bestowed a labour upon it, with which he never favoured any other of his works. This circumstance, which escaped the researches of all his biographers, was lately discovered by the editor of the British Essayists," whose that one so inquisitive after the most trifling circumstance connected with Dr. Johnson's character or history, should have never heard or discovered that Dr. Johnson almost re-wrote the RAMBLER after the first folio edition. Yet the alterations made by him in the second and third editions of the RAMBLER far exceed six thousand; a number which may justify the use of the word literal acceptation. A comparison of the first edi tion with the fourth or any subsequent edition will show the curious examiner in what these alterations consist. In the mean time we may apply to the author what he says of Pope-'He laboured his works, first to gain reputation, and afterwards to keep it.' He was not content to satisfy; he desired to excel, and therefore always endeavoured to do his best: he did not court the candour, but dared the judgment of his readers; and expecting no indulgence from others, he showed none himself. He examined lines and words with minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with indefatigable diligence till he had left nothing to be forgiven." Ꭲ Ꮋ Ꭼ Ꭱ Ꭺ Ꮇ Ᏼ Ꮮ Ꭼ Ꭱ. THE difficulty of the first address on any new occasion, is felt by every man in his transactions with the world, and confessed by the settled and regular forms of salutation which necessity has introduced into all languages. Judgment was wearied with the perplexity of being forced upon choice, where there was no motive to preference; and it was found convenient that some easy method of introduction should be established, which, if it wanted the allurement of novelty, might enjoy the security of prescription. Perhaps few authors have presented themselves before the public, without wishing that such ceremonial modes of entrance had been anciently established as might have freed them from those dangers which the desire of pleasing is certain to produce, and precluded the vain expedients of softening censure by apologies, or rousing attention by abruptness. The epic writers have found the proemial part of the poem such an addition to their undertaking, that they have almost unanimously adopted the first lines of Homer, and the reader needs only be informed of the subject, to know in what manner the poem will begin. But this solemn repetition is hitherto the peculiar distinction of heroic poetry; it has never been legally extended to the lower orders of literature, but seems to be considered as an hereditary privilege, to be enjoyed only by those who claim it from their alliance to the genius of Ho mner. The rules which the injudicious use of this pre10gative suggested to Horace, may indeed be applied to the direction of candidates for inferior fame; it may be proper for all to remember, that they ought not to raise expectation which it is not in their power to satisfy, and that it is more pleasing to see smoke brightening into flame, than flame sinking into smoke. This precept has been long received, both from regard to the authority of Horace, and its conformity to the general opinion of the world; yet there have been always some, that thought it no deviation from modesty to recommend their own labours, and imagined themselves entitled by indisputable merit to an exemption from general restraints, and to elevations not allowed in common life. They, perhaps, believed, that when, like Thucydides, they bequeathed to mankind Kτnμa és del an estate for ever, it was an additional favour to inform them of its value. It may, indeed, be no less dangerous to claim on certain occasions, too little than too much. There is something captivating in spirit and intrepidity, to which we often yield, as to a resistless power; nor can he reasonably expect the confidence of others, who too apparently distrusts himself. Plutarch, in his enumeration of the various occasions on which a man may without just offence proclaim his own excellencies, has omitted the case of an author entering the world; unless it may be comprehended under his general position, that a man may lawfully praise himself for those qualities which cannot be known but from his own mouth; as when he is among strangers, and can have no opportunity of an actual exertion of his powers. That the case of an author is parallel, will scarcely be granted, because he necessarily discovers the degree of his merit to his judges, when he appears at his trial. But it should be remembered, that unless his judges are inclined to favour him, they will hardly be persuaded to hear the cause. In love, the state which fills the heart with a degree of solicitude next that of an author, it has been held a maxim, that success is most easily obtained by indirect and unperceived approaches, he who too soon professes himself a lover, raises obstacles to his own wishes, and those whom disappointments have taught experience, endeavour to conceal their passion till they believe their mistress wishes for the discovery. The same method, if it were practicable to writers, would save many complaints of the severity of the age, and the caprices of criticism. If a man could glide imperceptibly into the favour of the public, and only proclaim his pretensions to literary honours when he is sure of not being rejected, he might commence author with better hopes, as his failings might escape contempt, though he shall never attain much regard. But since the world supposes every man that writes, ambitious of applause, as some ladies have taught themselves to believe that every man intends love, who expresses civility, the miscarriage of any endeavour in learning raises an unbounded contempt, indulged by most minds with 14 THE RAMBLER. out scruple, as an honest triumph over unjust fearful, for to such the shortness of every single claims, and exhorbitant expectations. The arti- paper is a powerful encouragement. He that fices of those who put themselves in this hazard-questions his abilities to arrange the dissimilar ous state, have therefore been multiplied in protion to their fear as well as their ambition; and are to be looked upon with more indulgence, as they are incited at once by the two great movers of the human mind, the desire of good and the fear of evil. For who can wonder that, allured on one side, and frightened on the other, some should endeavour to gain favour by bribing the judge with an appearance of respect which they do not feel, to excite compassion by confessing weakness of which they are not convinced; and others to attract regard by a show of openness and magnanimity, by a daring profession of their own deserts, and a public challenge of honours and rewards? The ostentatious and haughty display of themselves has been the usual refuge of diurnal writers; in vindication of whose practice it may be said, that what it wants in prudence is supplied by sincerity, and who at least may plead, that if their boasts deceive any into the perusal of their performances, they defraud them of but little time. Quid enim? Concurritur-hora FRANCIS. The question concerning the merit of the day is soon decided, and we are not condemned to toil through half a folio, to be convinced that the writer has broke his promise. parts of an extensive plan, or fears to be lost in No. 2.] SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1749-50. Ante fugam, absentemque ferit gravis ungula campum. Th' impatient courser pants in every vein, STATIUS POPE. It is one among many reasons for which I purpose to endeavour the entertainment of my countrymen by a short essay on Tuesday and Saturday, that I hope not much to tire those whom I THAT the mind of man is never satisfied with shall not happen to please; and if I am not com- the objects immediately before it, but is always mended for the beauty of my works, to be at breaking away from the present moment, and least pardoned for their brevity. But whether losing itself in schemes of future felicity; and my expectations are most fixed on pardon or that we forget the proper use of the time now in praise, I think it not necessary to discover; for our power to provide for the enjoyment of that having accurately weighed the reasons for arro- which, perhaps, may never be granted us, has gance and submission, I find them so nearly been frequently remarked; and as this practice equiponderant, that my impatience to try the is a commodious subject of raillery to the gay, event of my first performance will not suffer me to and of declamation to the serious, it has been riattend any longer the trepidations of the balance. diculed with all the pleasantry of wit, and exag There are, indeed, many conveniences almost gerated with all the amplifications of rhetoric. peculiar to this method of publication, which may Every instance, by which its absurdity might ap naturally flatter the author, whether he be con- pear most flagrant, has been studiously collectfident or timorous. The man to whom the ex-ed; it has been marked with every epithet of tent of his knowledge, or the sprightliness of his contempt, and all the tropes and figures have been imagination, has, in his own opinion, already called forth against it. secured the praises of the world, willingly takes that way of displaying his abilities which will soonest give him an opportunity of hearing the voice of fame; it heightens his alacrity to think in how many places he shall hear what he is now writing, read with ecstacies to-morrow. He will often please himself with reflecting, that the author of a large treatise must proceed with anxiety, lest, before the completion of his work, the attention of the public may have changed its object; but that he who is confined to no single topic, may follow the national taste through all its variations, and catch the aura popularis, the gale of favour, from what point soever it shall blow. Nor is the prospect less likely to ease the doubts of the cautious, and the terrors of the train Censure is willingly indulged, because it always implies some superiority; men please themselves with imagining that they have made a deeper search, or wider survey than others, and detected faults and follies, which escape vulgar observation. And the pleasure of wantoning in common topics is so tempting to a writer, that he cannot easily resign it; of sentiments generally received enables him to shine without labour, and to conquer without a contest. It is so easy to laugh at the folly of him who lives only in idea, refuses immediate ease for distant pleasures, and, instead of enjoying the blessings of life, lets life glide away in preparations to enjoy them; it affords such opportunities of triumphant exultation, to exem to the production of every thing great or excellent, as some plants are destroyed by too open exposure to that sun which gives life and beauty to the vegetable world. plify the uncertainty of the human state, to rouse guine, may, indeed, be easily vitiated by the mortals from their dream, and inform them of luxurious indulgence of hope, however necessary the silent celerity of time, that we may believe authors willing rather to transmit than examine so advantageous a principle, and more inclined to pursue a track so smooth and so flowery, than attentively to consider whether it leads to truth. This quality of looking forward into futurity, seems the unavoidable condition of a being, whose motions are gradual, and whose life is progressive: as his powers are limited, he must use means for the attainment of his ends, and intend first what he performs last; as by continual advances from his first stage of existence, he is perpetually varying the horizon of his prospects, he inust always discover new motives of action, new excitements of fear, and allurements of desire. The end therefore which at present calls forth our efforts, will be found, when it is once gained, to be only one of the means to some remoter end. The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope. He that directs his steps to a certain point, must frequently turn his eyes to that place which he strives to reach; he that undergoes the fatigue of labour, must solace his weariness with the contemplation of its reward. In agriculture, one of the most simple and necessary employments, no man turns up the ground but because he thinks of the harvest, that harvest which blights may intercept, which inundations may sweep away, or which death or calamity may hinder him from reaping. Perhaps no class of the human species requires more to be cautioned against this anticipation of happiness, than those that aspire to the name of authors. A man of lively fancy no sooner finds a hint moving in his mind, than he makes momentaneous excursions to the press, and to the world, and, with a little encouragement from flattery, pushes forward into future ages, and prognosticates the honours to be paid him, when envy is extinct, and faction forgotten, and those, whom partiality now suffers to obscure him, shall have given way to the triflers of as short duration as themselves. Those who have proceeded so far as to appeal to the tribunal of succeeding times, are not likely to be cured of their infatuation; but all endea vours ought to be used for the prevention of a disease, for which, when it has attained its height, perhaps no remedy will be found in the gardens of philosophy, however she may boast her phy sic of the mind, her cathartics of vice, or lenitives of passion. I shall, therefore, while I am yet but lightly touched with the symptoms of the writer's malady, endeavour to fortify myself against the infection, not without some weak hope that my preservatives may extend their virtue to others, whose employment exposes them to the same danger. Laudis amore tumes? Sunt certa piacula, quæ te Is fame your passion? Wisdom's powerful charm, FRANCIS. Yet as few maxims are widely received or long retained but for some conformity with truth and nature, it must be confessed that this caution against keeping our view too intent upon remote advantages is not without its propriety or usefulness, though it may have been recited with too much levity, or enforced with too little distinction; for, not to speak of that vehemence of deIt is the sage advice of Epictetus, that a man sire which presses through right and wrong to its should accustom himself often to think of what gratification, or that anxious inquietude which is is most shocking and terrible, that by such rejustly chargeable with distrust of Heaven, sub-flections he may be preserved from too ardent jects too solemn for my present purpose; it fre- wishes for seeming good, and from too much dequently happens that by indulging early the rap-jection in real evil. tures of success, we forget the measures necessary to secure it, and suffer the imagination to riot in the fruition of some possible good, till the time of obtaining it has slipped away. There would, however, be few enterprises of great labour or hazard undertaken, if we had not the power of magnifying the advantages which we persuade ourselves to expect from them. When the knight of La Mancha gravely recounts to his companion the adventures by which he is to signalize himself in such a manner, that he shall be summoned to the support of empires, solicited to accept the heiress of the crown which he has preserved, have honours and riches to scatter about him, and an island to bestow on his worthy squire, very few readers, amidst their mirth or pity, can deny that they have admitted visions of the same kind; though they have not, perhaps, expected events equally strange, or by means equally inadequate. When we pity him, we reflect on our own disappointments; and when we laugh, our hearts inform us that he is not more ridiculous than ourselves, except that he tells what we have only thought. The understanding of a man naturally san There is nothing more dreadful to an author than neglect; compared with which, reproach, hatred, and opposition, are names of happiness; yet this worst, this meanest fate, every one who dares to write has reason to fear. 1 nunc, et versus tecum meditare canoros, Go now, and meditate thy tuneful lays. ELPHINSTON It may not be unfit for him who makes a new entrance into the lettered world, so far to suspect his own powers as to believe that he possibly may deserve neglect; that nature may not have qualified him much to enlarge or embellish knowledge, nor sent him forth entitled by indisputable supe riority to regulate the conduct of the rest of mankind; that, though the world must be granted to be yet in ignorance, he is not destined to dispel the cloud, nor to shine out as one of the lumina ries of life. For this suspicion, every catalogue of a library will furnish sufficient reason; as he will find it crowded with names of men, who, though now forgotten, were once no less enter prising or confident than himself, equally pleased with their own productions, equally caressed by their patrons, and flattered by their friends. But, though it should happen that an author is capable of excelling, yet his merit may pass without notice, huddled in the variety of things, and thrown into the general miscellany of life. He that endeavours after fame by writing, solicits the regard of a multitude fluctuating in pleasures, or immersed in business, without time for intellectual amusements; he appeals to judges, prepossessed by passions, or corrupted by prejudices, which preclude their approbation of any new performance. Some are too indolent to read any thing, till its reputation is established; others too envious to promote that fame which gives them pain by its increase. What is new is opposed, because most are unwilling to be taught; and what is known is rejected, because it is not sufficiently considered, that men more frequently require to be reminded than informed. The learned are afraid to declare their opinion early, lest they should put their reputation in hazard; the ignorant always imagine themselves giving some proof of delicacy, when they refuse to be pleased: and he that finds his way to reputation through all these obstructions, must acknowledge that he is indebted to other causes besides his industry, his learning, or his wit. I'He task of an author is, either to teach what is not known, or to recommend known truths by his manner of adorning them; either to let new light in upon the mind, and open new scenes to the prospect, or to vary the dress and situation of common objects, so as to give them fresh grace and more powerful attractions, to spread such flowers over the regions through which the intellect has already made its progress, as may tempt it to return, and take a second view of things hastily passed over, or negligently regarded. ment, to hinder the reception of every work of learning, or genius, who stand as sentinels in the avenues of fame, and value themselves upon giving Ignorance and Envy the first notice of a prey. To these men, who distinguish themselves by the appellation of Critics, it is necessary for a new author to find some means of recommenda tion. It is probable, that the most malignant of these persecutors might be somewhat softened, and prevailed on, for a short time, to remit their fury. Having for this purpose considered many expedients, I find in the records of ancient times, that Argus was lulled by music, and Cerberus quieted with a sop; and am therefore inclined to believe that modern critics, who, if they have not the eyes, have the watchfulness of Argus, and can bark as loud as Cerberus, though, perhaps, they cannot bite with equal force, might be subdued by methods of the same kind. I have heard how some have been pacified with claret and a supper, and others laid asleep with the soft notes of flattery. Though the nature of my undertaking gives me sufficient reason to dread the united attacks of this virulent generation, yet I have not hitherto persuaded myself to take any measures for flight or treaty. For I am in doubt whether they can act against me by lawful authority, and suspect that they have presumed upon a forged commission, styled themselves the ministers of Criticism, without any authentic evidence of delegation, and uttered their own determinations as the decrees of a higher judicature. Criticism, from whom they derive their claim to decide the fate of writers, was the eldest daughter of Labour and of Truth: she was, at her birth, committed to the care of Justice, and brought up by her in the palace of Wisdom. Being soon distinguished by the celestials, for her uncommon qualities, she was appointed the governess of Fancy, and empowered to beat time to the chorus of the Muses, when they sung before the throne of Jupiter. When the Muses condescended to visit this lower world, they came accompanied by Criticism, to whom, upon her descent from her native regions, Justice gave a sceptre, to be carried aloft in her right hand, one end of which was tinctured with ambrosia, and inwreathed with a golden foliage of amaranths and bays; the other end was encircled with cypress and poppies, and dipped in the waters of oblivion. In her left hand she bore an unextinguishable torch, manufactured by Labour, and lighted by Truth, of which it was the particular quality immedi ately to show every thing in its true form, however it might be disguised to common eyes. Whatever Art could complicate, or Folly could confound, was, upon the first gleam of the torch of Truth, exhibited in its distinct parts and origiIt might be imagined that such an employ-nal simplicity; it darted through the labyrinths ment was in itself sufficiently irksome and hazardous; that none would be found so malevolent as wantonly to add weight to the stone of Sisyphus; and that few endeavours would be used to obstruct those advances to reputation, which must be made at such an expense of time and thought, with so great hazard in the miscarriage, and with so little advantage from the suc Either of these labours is very difficult, because that they may not be fruitless, men must not only be persuaded of their errors, but reconciled to their guide; they must not only confess their ignorance, but, what is still less pleasing, must allow that he from whom they are to learn is more knowing than themselves. cess. Yet there is a certain race of men, that either imagine it their duty, or make it their amuse of sophistry, and showed at once all the absurdities to which they served for refuge; it pierced through the robes which rhetoric often sold to falsehood, and detected the disproportion of parts which artificial veils had been contrived to cover. Thus furnished for the execution of her office, Criticism came down to survey the performances of those who professed themselves the votaries of the Muses. Whatever was brought before her, she beheld by the steady light of the |