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PREFACE.

"To print or not to print?-this is the question :
Whether 'tis better in a trunk to bury

The quirks and crotchets of outrageous fancy,
Or send a well wrote copy to the press,

And, by disclosing, end them?

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For who would bear th' impatient thirst of fame,
The pride of conscious merít, and 'bove all,

The tedious importunity of friends

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To groan and sweat under a load of wit?

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'Tis critics that make cowards of us all."

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JAGO

CUSTOM, it has been repeatedly observed by many of my worthy (and some perhaps unworthy) predecessors in authorship, has rendered a preface almost indispensably necessary; while others again have as frequently remarked, that "custom is the law of fools." Those considerations induced me to hesitate whether I should usher my performance into the world with a preface, and thus hazard being classed with the adherents to that law, or by omitting it, escape the opprobrium, for "who shall decide when doctors disagree?" Now, though I would not take upon me to decide in every point in which doctors disagree, yet after giving the present subject that mature consideration which so important a concern required, I thought myself fully competent to decide, if not to general satisfaction, at least so as fully to satisfy one

particular person for whom I profess to have a very great regard, though perhaps few are to be found who would be equally condescending to him; who that person is I do not wish publicly to declare, as (being a very modest man) it might offend him; I shall only say, the more you read the Memoirs contained in the following pages, the better you will become acquainted with him. I ground my decision on these arguments; I concluded as most of my brethren of the quill do of their labours, that my performance possessed so much intrinsic merit as would occasion it to be universally admired by all good judges as a prodigious effort of human genius, and that this approbation must naturally excite the envy of some authors, who had not met with that high applause they deemed themselves entitled to, and incline them to search for imperfections in my work, and though I was persuaded of the impossibility of their finding any, yet being thus foiled, they might catch at the want of a preface, and construe that into an omission, so that in order to dis arm them I resolved to have one; especially as those who deem prefaces unnecessary may, if they choose, decline reading it, whilst those on the other side of the question, if there was none, might be disappointed and have cause for complaint; but to be serious-if I

can.

Almost every author, on producing the effusions of his pen (and his brain, if he has any) thinks it prudent to introduce himself by a kind of prologue, as it may be called, stating his reasons with due precision for intruding himself on his readers (whether true or otherwise is not always material to enquire,) bespeaking their candour towards his weaknesses and imperfections (which by the bye, few authors are so sensible of as their readers) and not unfrequently endeavouring to sooth those Goliahs in literature, ycleped critics, (with whom not many little Davids are found hardy enough to contend,) hoping thus to coax them into good-humour; or perhaps, if his vanity preponderates,

he throws the gauntlet of defiance with a view of terrifying them either to hold their peace or to do justice to those mighty abilities he is confident he possesses in a degree eminently superior to most of his brethren.

Among "true Parnassian bullies," De Scudery stands one of the foremost; he concludes his preface to the works of his friend Theophile, with these remarkable words, "I do not hesitate to declare that, amongst all the dead and all the living, there is no person who has anything to show that approaches the force of this vigorous genius; but if amongst the latter any one were so extravagant as to consider that I detract from his imaginary glory, to shew him that I fear as little as I esteem him, this is to inform him that my name is De Scudery." We have another remarkable instance in Claude Terllon, a poetical soldier, who begins his poems, by informing the critics, that if any one attempts to censure him, he will only condescend to answer him sword in hand."

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For my own part I disclaim these modes, convinced that in the first case every reader, whatever the author may plead, will judge for himself; and with regard to professed critics, were I so disposed, neither my natural or acquired abilities enable me to bully those who must be very ill qualified for their task, if they were thus to be intimidated from declaring their real sentiments; and, on the other hand, to affect a degree of humility, and by flattery to aim at warping their minds, is, in my opinion, paying them a very bad compli

ment.

"Critics, forgive the first essay

Of one whose thoughts are plain,

Whose heart is full, who never means
To steal your time again."

Never should I have ventured to appear in this habit before the public, had not the following motives urged me thereto :

Many of my acquaintances have frequently expressed a desire of obtaining from myself such particulars as they could rely on, of my passage through life.

I have even been repeatedly threatened, by some particular friends, that, if I declined drawing up a narrative, they were determined to do it for me. One of the first mentioned gentlemen prevailed on me (as the most likely mode to bring it to a period) to devote now and then a spare hour in minuting down some of the most material occurrences of my life, and to send them to him in an epistolary form, intending to digest the whole into a regula narrative for publication; that gentleman however on perusal was of opinion that it would be additionally acceptable to the curious part of the public, if exhibited to them in the plain and simple manner in which these letters were written, as thus tending to display such traits and features of a somewhat original character, and give a more perfect idea of “I, great I, the little hero of each tale,” than any other mode that could have been adopted, especially as many intelligent persons were confident I could not write at all, while others kindly attributed to me what I never wrote.

"Then think

That he who thus is forc'd to speak,

Unless commanded, would have died in silence."

If among the multitude of memoirs under which the press has groaned, and with which it still continues to be tortured, the following sheets should afford some degree of entertainment, as a relaxation from more grave and solid studies, to an inquisitive and candid reader (those of an opposite description are not to be pleased with the ablest performance,) and he should deem it not the worst nor the most expensive among the numerous tribe, I shall esteem myself amply rewarded; had I however been disposed to be more attentive to entertainment and less to veracity, I might to many have rendered it much more agree

able, though less satisfactory to myself; as I believe the observation long since made to be just, that few books are so ill written but that something may be gleaned from their perusal.

Should the insignificance of my Life induce any person better qualified to present the world with his, big with interesting events, my disposing of several large editions of that performance will afford me more solia satisfaction as a bookseller than any success or emolument which can possibly arise from this my first and most probably last essay as an author.

If unfortunately any of my kind readers should find the book so horrid dull and stupid that they cannot get through it, or if they do, and wish not to travel the same road again, I here declare my perfect readiness to supply them with abundance of books, much more witty, much more whatever they please. They never shall want books while L. is able to assist them; and whether they prefer one of his writing, or that of any other author, he protests he will not be in the smallest degree offended: let every author make the same declaration if he can.

Should my Memoirs be attended with no other benefit to society, they will at least tend to show what may be effected by a persevering habit of industry, and an upright conscientious demeanour in trade towards the public, and probably inspire some one, of perhaps superior abilities, with a laudable ambition to emerge from obscurity by a proper application of those talents with which providence has favoured him, to his own credit and emolument, as well as the benefit of the community. To such a one I ever have and ever shall wish every possible success, as it has uniformly been my opinion, that whatever is thus ac quired is more honourable to the parties than the possession of wealth obtained without any intrinsic merit or exertion, and which is too frequently con umed with rapidity in the pursuit of vice and dissi pation.

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