the very crime that I think I am censuring. But while justice to my readers compels me to admit that I write, because I have nothing to do, justice to my self induces me to add, that I will cease to write the moment I have nothing to say. Discretion has been termed the better part of valour, and it is more certain that diffidence is the better part of knowledge. Where I am ignorant, and know that I am so, I am silent. That Grecian gave a better reason for his taciturnity, than most authors for their loquacity, who observed, "What was to the purpose I could not say; and what was not to the purpose I would not say.' And yet Shakspeare has hinted, that even silence is not always commendable: since it may be foolish, if we are wise, but wise if we are foolish. The Grecian's maxim would indeed be a sweeping clause in literature; it would reduce many a giant to a pigmy; many a speech to a sentence; and many a folio to a primer. As the fault of our orators is, that they get up to make a speech, rather than to speak; so the great error of our authors 13, that they sit down to make a book rather than to write. To combine profundity with perspicuity, wit with judgment, solidity with vivacity, truth with novelty, and all of them with liberalitywho is sufficient for these things? a very serious question; but it is one which authors had much better propose to themselves before publication, than have proposed to them by their editors after it.

I have thrown together in this work, that which is the result of some reading and reflection; if it be but little, I have taken care that the volume which contains it, shall not be large. I plead the privilege which a preface allows to an author for saying thus much of myself; since if a writer be inclined to egotism, a preface is the most proper place for him to be delivered of it; for prefaces are not always read, and ded ications seldom; books, says my lord Bacon, should have no patrons but truth and reason. Even the attractive prose of Dryden, could not dignify dedications; and perhaps they ought never to be resorted to

being as derogatory to the writer, as dull to the read. er, and when not prejudicial, at least superfluous. If a book really wants the patronage of a great name, it is a bad book, and if it be a good book, it wants it not. Swift dedicated a volume to Prince Posterity, and there was a manliness in the act. Posterity will prove a patron of the soundest judgment, as unwilling to give, as unlikely to receive, adulation. But Posterity is not a very accessible personage; he knows the high value of that which he gives, he therefore is extremely particular as to what he receives. Very few of the presents that are directed to him, reach their destination. Some are too light, others too heavy, since, it is as difficult to throw a straw any distance, as a ton. I have addressed this volume to those who think, and some may accuse me of an ostentatious independence, in presuming to inscribe a book to so small a minority. But a volume addressed to those who think, is in fact addressed to all the world; for although the proportion of those who do think be extremely small, yet every individual flatters himself that he is one of the number. In the present rage for all that is marvellous and interesting, when writers of undoubted talent consider only what will sell, and readers only what will please, it is perhaps a bold experiment to send a volune into the world, whose very faults, (manifold as I fear they are,) will cost more pains to detect, than sciolists would feel inclined to bestow, even if they were sure of discovering nothing but beauties. Some also of my conclusions will no doubt be condemned by those who will not take the trouble of looking into the postulata; for the soundest argument will produce no more conviction in an empty nead, than the most superficial declamation; as a feather and a guinea fall with equal velocity in a vacuum.

The following pages, such as they are, have cost me some thought to write, and they may possibly cost others some to read them. Like Demosthenes, who talked Greek to the waves, I have continued my task, with the hope of instructing others with the certainty

medim of prejur & secured; through the channels of custom, it will be adulterated; through the gochie walls of the college, or of the cloister, it will smell of the lang

He that studies books alone, will know how things ought to be; and he that studies men, will know how things are; and it would have been impossible to have written these pages, without mixing somewhat more freely with the world than inclination might prompt, or judgment approre. For observation, made in the cloister, or a the desert, will generally be as obscure as the one, and as barrea as the other: but he that would paint with his pencil, must study originals, and not be over fearful of a little dust. In fact, every author is a far better judge of the pains that his efforts have cost him, than any reader can possibly be; but to what purpose he has taken those pains, this is a question on which his readers will not allow the author a voice, nor even an opinion: from the tribunal of the public there is no appeal, and it is fit that it should be so, otherwise we should not only have rivers of ink expended in bad writing, but oceans more in defending it; for he that writes in a bad style is sure to retort in a worse.

I have availed myself of examples both ancient

Labour is self a pleasure-Pes

modern, wherever they appeared likely to illustrate, or strengthen my positions; but I am not so sanguine as to expect that all will draw the same conclusions from the same premises. I have not forgotten the ouservation, of him who said, that in the same meadon, the ox seeks the herbage; the dog, the hare; and the stork, the lizard.' Times also of profound peace and tranquillity are most propitious to every literary pursu. Satur est, cum dicit Horatius euge** know that Malherbe, on hearing a prose work of great merit extolled, dryly asked if it would reduce the price of bread! neither was his appreciation of poetry much higher, when he observed, that a good port was of no inore service to the church or the state, than a good player at ninepins!!

We

The anecdotes that are interspersed in these pages. have seldom been cited for their own sake, but enieny for their application, nor can I see why the Moranst should be denied those examples so useful to the Historian. The lover of variety will be fastidious. I be finds nothing here to his taste; but like him waʊ wrote a book de omnibus rebur. et quitusuum aliis,' I may perhaps be accused of looking mic every thing, but of seeing into nothing.

in

There are two things, cheap and common enough when separated, but as costly in value, as irresistibe when combined-truth and wneity. Their power. union is like that of steam and offre, whenotning can overcome. Truth and novel, when unte, must overcome the whole superincumbeni pressures, Phot and of prejudice, whatever bennes, as luceheets will be proportionate to the restzat: DL" Lue mon e earthquake, unlike the naturar, Padriasts wit nations, reforms them to pee mate. On which make there beer faldu, incl sands absolu

Ab

lutely false. It is a melancholy consideration for au
thors, that there is very little Terra Incognita' in
literature, and there now remain to us moderns, only
two roads to success; discovery and conquest. If in-
deed we can advance any propositions that are both
true and new, these are indisputably our own, by right
of discovery; and if we can repeat what is old, more
briefly and brightly than others, this also becomes our
own by right of conquest. The pointed propriety of
Pope, was to all his readers originality, and even the
lawful possessors could not always recognise their
own property in his hands. Few have borrowed more
freely than Gray and Milton, but with a princely pro-
digality, they have repaid the obscure thoughts of
others, with far brighter of their own; like the ocean
wach drinks up the muddy water of the rivers, from
the flood, but replenishes them with the clearest from
the shower. These reflections, however they may
tend to show the difficulties all must encounter who
aim at originality, will, nevertheless in nowise tend
to diminish the number of those who will attempt to
surmount them, since fools rush in, where angels
fear to tread.' In good truth, we should have a glo
rious conflagration, if all who cannot put fire into
their works, would only consent to put their works in-
to the fire. But this is an age of economy, as well as
of ilumination, and a considerate author will not
rasnly condemn his volumes to that devouring ele-
ment, 'flammis emendatioribus," who reflects that
the pastry-cook and the confectioner are sure to put
good things into his pages, if he fail to do it himself.
With respect to the style I have adopted in the fol-
lowing sheets, I have attempted to make it
vary with
the subject; avoiding all pomp of words, where there
was no corresponding elevation of ideas; for such tur-
gidity, although it may be as aspiring as that of a bal-
foon, is also as useless. I have neither spare time for
superfluous writing, nor spare money for superfluous

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