affecting false characters, in order to purchase applause; so hypocrisy sets us on an endeavour to avoid censure by concealing our vices under an appearance of their opposite virtues. And tho' these two causes are often confounded, (for they 5 require some distinguishing;) yet, as they proceed from very different motives, so they are as clearly distinct in their operations for indeed, the affectation which arises from vanity is nearer to truth than the other; as it hath not that violent repugnancy of nature to struggle with, which that of the hypoIO crite hath. It may be likewise noted, that affectation doth not imply an absolute negation of those qualities which are affected: and therefore, tho', when it proceeds from hypocrisy, it be nearly allied to deceit; yet when it comes from vanity only, it partakes of the nature of ostentation: for instance, the 15 affectation of liberality in a vain man, differs visibly from the same affectation in the avaricious; for tho' the vain man is not what he would appear, or hath not the virtue he affects, to the degree he would be thought to have it; yet it sits less awkwardly on him than on the avaricious man, who is the very 20 reverse of what he would seem to be.

From the discovery of this affectation arises the Ridiculous

which always strikes the reader with surprize and pleasure; and that in a higher and stronger degree when the affectation arises from hypocrisy, than when from vanity for to discover 25 any one to be the exact reverse of what he affects, is more surprizing, and consequently more ridiculous, than to find him a little deficient in the quality he desires the reputation of. I might observe that our Ben Jonson, who of all men understood the Ridiculous the best, hath chiefly used the hypocritical 30 affectation.

Now from affectation only, the misfortunes and calamities of life, or the imperfections of nature, may become the objects of ridicule. Surely he hath a very ill-framed mind, who can

look on ugliness, infirmity, or poverty, as ridiculous in themselves nor do I believe any man living who meets a dirty fellow riding through the streets in a cart, is struck with an idea of the Ridiculous from it; but if he should see the same figure descend from his coach and six, or bolt from his chair 5 with his hat under his arm, he would then begin to laugh, and with justice. In the same manner, were we to enter a poor house and behold a wretched family shivering with cold and languishing with hunger, it would not incline us to laughter, (at least we must have very diabolical natures, if it would): 10 but should we discover there a grate, instead of coals, adorned with flowers, empty plate or china dishes on the side-board, or any other affectation of riches and finery either on their persons or in their furniture; we might then indeed be excused, for ridiculing so fantastical an appearance. Much less are 15 natural imperfections the object of derision: but when ugliness aims at the applause of beauty, or lameness endeavours to display agility; it is then that these unfortunate circumstances, which at first moved our compassion, tend only to raise our mirth.

The poet carries this very far;

None are for being what they are in fault,

But for not being what they would be thought.

20

Where if the metre would suffer the word Ridiculous to close the first line, the thought would be rather more proper. Great 25 vices are the proper objects of our detestation, smaller faults of our pity but affectation appears to me the only true source of the Ridiculous.

But perhaps it may be objected to me, that I have against my own rules introduced vices, and of a very black kind into 30 this work. To this I shall answer: first, that it is very difficult to pursue a series of human actions and keep clear from them.

Secondly, that the vices to be found here, are rather the accidental consequences of some human frailty, or foible, than causes habitually existing in the mind. Thirdly, that they are never set forth as the objects of ridicule, but detestation. 5 Fourthly, that they are never the principal figure at that time on the scene; and lastly, they never produce the intended evil.

V

SHEWING WHAT KIND OF A HISTORY THIS IS;
WHAT IT IS LIKE, AND WHAT IT IS NOT LIKE

Tho' we have properly enough entitled this our work, a history, and not a life; nor an apology for a life, as is more in fashion; yet we intend in it rather to pursue the method of Io those writers who profess to disclose the revolutions of countries, than to imitate the painful and voluminous historian, who to preserve the regularity of his series, thinks himself obliged to fill up as much paper with the details of months and years in which nothing remarkable happened, as he employs upon 15 those notable æras when the greatest scenes have been transacted on the human stage.

Such histories as these do, in reality, very much resemble a news-paper, which consists of just the same number of words, whether there be any news in it or not. They may likewise 20 be compared to a stage-coach, which performs constantly the same course, empty as well as full. The writer, indeed, seems to think himself obliged to keep even pace with Time, whose amanuensis he is; and, like his master, travels as slowly through centuries of monkish dulness, when the world seems to have 25 been asleep, as through that bright and busy age so nobly distinguished by the excellent Latin poet.

"Ad confligendum venientibus undique Pœnis;
Omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu
Horrida contremuere sub altis ætheris auris:·
In dubioque fuit sub utrorum regna cadendum
Omnibus humanis esset, terraque marique:

Of which, we wish we could give our reader a more adequate translation than that by Mr. Creech.

"When dreadful Carthage frightened Rome with arms,
And all the world was shook with fierce alarms;
Whilst undecided yet, which part should fall,
Which nation rise the glorious lord of all."

5

IO

Now it is our purpose in the ensuing pages, to pursue a contrary method. When any extraordinary scene presents itself (as we trust will often be the case) we shall spare no pains nor paper to open it at large to our reader; but if whole years 15 should pass without producing any thing worthy his notice, we shall not be afraid of a chasm in our history; but shall hasten on to matters of consequence, and leave such periods of time totally unobserved.

These are indeed to be considered as blanks in the grand 20 lottery of Time. We therefore who are the registers of that lottery, shall imitate those sagacious persons who deal in that which is drawn at Guild-Hall and who never trouble the public with the many blanks they dispose of; but when a great prize happens to be drawn, the news-papers are presently filled with it, 25 and the world is sure to be informed at whose office it was sold: indeed, commonly two or three different offices lay claim to the honour of having disposed of it; by which I suppose the. adventurers are given to understand that certain brokers are in the secrets of Fortune, and indeed of her cabinet-council. 30 My reader then is not to be surprized, if in the course of this work, he shall find some chapters very short, and others altogether

as long; some that contain only the time of a single day, and others that comprise years; in a word, if my history sometimes seems to stand still, and sometimes to fly. For all which I shall not look on myself as accountable to any court of critical 5 jurisdiction whatever: for as I am, in reality, the founder of a new province of writing, so I am at liberty to make what laws I please therein. And these laws, my readers, whom I consider as my subjects, are bound to believe in and to obey; with which that they may readily and chearfully comply, I do hereby Io assure them that I shall principally regard their ease and advantage in all such institutions: for I do not, like a jure divino tyrant, imagine that they are my slaves or my commodity. I am, indeed, set over them for their own good only, and was created for their use, and not they for mine. Nor do I doubt, 15 while I make their interest the great rule of my writings, they will unanimously concur in supporting my dignity, and in rendering me all the honour I shall deserve or desire.

VI

MATTER PREFATORY IN PRAISE OF BIOGRAPHY

Notwithstanding the preference which may be vulgarly given to the authority of those romance-writers who entitle their books, 20 the History of England, the History of France, of Spain, &c.

it is most certain that truth is only to be found in the works of those who celebrate the lives of great men, and are commonly called biographers, as the others should indeed be termed topographers, or chorographers: words which might well mark the 25 distinction between them; it being the business of the latter chiefly to describe countries and cities, which, with the assistance of maps, they do pretty justly, and may be depended upon : but as to the actions and characters of men, their writings