1. CHAPTER I.
Showing what kind of a history this is; what it is like, and what it
is not like
Though 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 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 detail of months and years in which nothing
remarkable happened, as he employs upon those notable aeras when the
greatest scenes have been transacted on the human stage.
Such histories as these do, in reality, very much resemble a
newspaper, which consists of just the same number of words, whether
there be any news in it or not. They may likewise 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 been asleep, as through that bright and busy
age so nobly distinguished by the excellent Latin poet-
Ad confligendum venientibus undique poenis,
Omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu
Horrida contremuere sub altis aetheris auris;
In dubioque fuit sub utrorum regna cadendum
Omnibus humanis esset, terraque marique.
Of which we wish we could give our readers a more adequate translation
than that by Mr. Creech-
When dreadful Carthage frighted 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.
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 should pass without
producing anything 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 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
Guildhall, and who never trouble the public with the many blanks
they dispose of; but when a great prize happens to be drawn, the
newspapers are presently filled with it, 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.
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 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
cheerfully comply, I do hereby 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,
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.