NO, I’ll not say a word about it——here it is;—in publishing it—I have
appealed to the world——and to the world I leave it;—it must speak for
itself.
All I know of the matter is—when I sat down, my intent was to write a
good book; and as far as the tenuity of my understanding would hold
out—a wise, aye, and a discreet—taking care only, as I went along, to
put into it all the wit and the judgment (be it more or less) which the
great Author and Bestower of them had thought fit originally to give
me——so that, as your worships see—’tis just as God pleases.
Now, _Agalastes_ (speaking dispraisingly) sayeth, That there may be
some wit in it, for aught he knows——but no judgment at all. And
_Triptolemus_ and _Phutatorius_ agreeing thereto, ask, How is it
possible there should? for that wit and judgment in this world never go
together; inasmuch as they are two operations differing from each other
as wide as east from west——So, says _Locke_——so are farting and
hickuping, say I. But in answer to this, _Didius_ the great church
lawyer, in his code _de fartendi et illustrandi fallaciis_, doth
maintain and make fully appear, That an illustration is no
argument——nor do I maintain the wiping of a looking-glass clean to be a
syllogism;—but you all, may it please your worships, see the better for
it——so that the main good these things do is only to clarify the
understanding, previous to the application of the argument itself, in
order to free it from any little motes, or specks of opacular matter,
which, if left swimming therein, might hinder a conception and spoil
all.
Now, my dear anti-Shandeans, and thrice able criticks, and
fellow-labourers (for to you I write this Preface)——and to you, most
subtle statesmen and discreet doctors (do—pull off your beards)
renowned for gravity and wisdom;——_Monopolus_, my politician—_Didius_,
my counsel; _Kysarcius_, my friend;—_Phutatorius_, my
guide;——_Gastripheres_, the preserver of my life; _Somnolentius_, the
balm and repose of it——not forgetting all others, as well sleeping as
waking, ecclesiastical as civil, whom for brevity, but out of no
resentment to you, I lump all together.——Believe me, right worthy,
My most zealous wish and fervent prayer in your behalf, and in my own
too, in case the thing is not done already for us——is, that the great
gifts and endowments both of wit and judgment, with every thing which
usually goes along with them——such as memory, fancy, genius, eloquence,
quick parts, and what not, may this precious moment, without stint or
measure, let or hindrance, be poured down warm as each of us could bear
it—scum and sediment and all (for I would not have a drop lost) into
the several receptacles, cells, cellules, domiciles, dormitories,
refectories, and spare places of our brains——in such sort, that they
might continue to be injected and tunn’d into, according to the true
intent and meaning of my wish, until every vessel of them, both great
and small, be so replenish’d, saturated, and filled up therewith, that
no more, would it save a man’s life, could possibly be got either in or
out.
Bless us!—what noble work we should make!——how should I tickle it
off!——and what spirits should I find myself in, to be writing away for
such readers!——and you—just heaven!——with what raptures would you sit
and read—but oh!—’tis too much——I am sick——I faint away deliciously at
the thoughts of it—’tis more than nature can bear!—lay hold of me——I am
giddy—I am stone blind—I’m dying—I am gone.—Help! Help! Help!—But
hold—I grow something better again, for I am beginning to foresee, when
this is over, that as we shall all of us continue to be great wits—we
should never agree amongst ourselves, one day to an end:——there would
be so much satire and sarcasm——scoffing and flouting, with raillying
and reparteeing of it—thrusting and parrying in one corner or
another——there would be nothing but mischief among us——Chaste stars!
what biting and scratching, and what a racket and a clatter we should
make, what with breaking of heads, rapping of knuckles, and hitting of
sore places—there would be no such thing as living for us.
But then again, as we should all of us be men of great judgment, we
should make up matters as fast as ever they went wrong; and though we
should abominate each other ten times worse than so many devils or
devilesses, we should nevertheless, my dear creatures, be all courtesy
and kindness, milk and honey—’twould be a second land of promise—a
paradise upon earth, if there was such a thing to be had—so that upon
the whole we should have done well enough.
All I fret and fume at, and what most distresses my invention at
present, is how to bring the point itself to bear; for as your worships
well know, that of these heavenly emanations of _wit_ and _judgment_,
which I have so bountifully wished both for your worships and
myself—there is but a certain _quantum_ stored up for us all, for the
use and behoof of the whole race of mankind; and such small modicums of
’em are only sent forth into this wide world, circulating here and
there in one bye corner or another—and in such narrow streams, and at
such prodigious intervals from each other, that one would wonder how it
holds out, or could be sufficient for the wants and emergencies of so
many great estates, and populous empires.
Indeed there is one thing to be considered, that in _Nova Zembla, North
Lapland_, and in all those cold and dreary tracks of the globe, which
lie more directly under the arctick and antartick circles, where the
whole province of a man’s concernments lies for near nine months
together within the narrow compass of his cave—where the spirits are
compressed almost to nothing—and where the passions of a man, with
every thing which belongs to them, are as frigid as the zone
itself—there the least quantity of _judgment_ imaginable does the
business——and of _wit_——there is a total and an absolute saving—for as
not one spark is wanted—so not one spark is given. Angels and ministers
of grace defend us! what a dismal thing would it have been to have
governed a kingdom, to have fought a battle, or made a treaty, or run a
match, or wrote a book, or got a child, or held a provincial chapter
there, with so _plentiful a lack_ of wit and judgment about us! For
mercy’s sake, let us think no more about it, but travel on as fast as
we can southwards into _Norway_—crossing over _Swedeland_, if you
please, through the small triangular province of _Angermania_ to the
lake of _Bothmia_; coasting along it through east and west _Bothnia_,
down to _Carelia_, and so on, through all those states and provinces
which border upon the far side of the _Gulf_ of _Finland_, and the
north-east of the _Baltick_, up to _Petersbourg_, and just stepping
into _Ingria_;—then stretching over directly from thence through the
north parts of the _Russian_ empire—leaving _Siberia_ a little upon the
left hand, till we got into the very heart of _Russian_ and _Asiatick
Tartary._
Now through this long tour which I have led you, you observe the good
people are better off by far, than in the polar countries which we have
just left:—for if you hold your hand over your eyes, and look very
attentively, you may perceive some small glimmerings (as it were) of
wit, with a comfortable provision of good plain houshold judgment,
which, taking the quality and quantity of it together, they make a very
good shift with——and had they more of either the one or the other, it
would destroy the proper balance betwixt them, and I am satisfied
moreover they would want occasions to put them to use.
Now, Sir, if I conduct you home again into this warmer and more
luxuriant island, where you perceive the spring-tide of our blood and
humours runs high——where we have more ambition, and pride, and envy,
and lechery, and other whoreson passions upon our hands to govern and
subject to reason——the _height_ of our wit, and the _depth_ of our
judgment, you see, are exactly proportioned to the _length_ and
_breadth_ of our necessities——and accordingly we have them sent down
amongst us in such a flowing kind of decent and creditable plenty, that
no one thinks he has any cause to complain.
It must however be confessed on this head, that, as our air blows hot
and cold—wet and dry, ten times in a day, we have them in no regular
and settled way;—so that sometimes for near half a century together,
there shall be very little wit or judgment either to be seen or heard
of amongst us:——the small channels of them shall seem quite dried
up——then all of a sudden the sluices shall break out, and take a fit of
running again like fury——you would think they would never stop:——and
then it is, that in writing, and fighting, and twenty other gallant
things, we drive all the world before us.
It is by these observations, and a wary reasoning by analogy in that
kind of argumentative process, which _Suidas_ calls _dialectick
induction_——that I draw and set up this position as most true and
veritable;
That of these two luminaries so much of their irradiations are suffered
from time to time to shine down upon us, as he, whose infinite wisdom
which dispenses every thing in exact weight and measure, knows will
just serve to light us on our way in this night of our obscurity; so
that your reverences and worships now find out, nor is it a moment
longer in my power to conceal it from you, That the fervent wish in
your behalf with which I set out, was no more than the first
insinuating _How d’ye_ of a caressing prefacer, stifling his reader, as
a lover sometimes does a coy mistress, into silence. For alas! could
this effusion of light have been as easily procured, as the exordium
wished it—I tremble to think how many thousands for it, of benighted
travellers (in the learned sciences at least) must have groped and
blundered on in the dark, all the nights of their lives——running their
heads against posts, and knocking out their brains without ever getting
to their journies end;——some falling with their noses perpendicularly
into sinks——others horizontally with their tails into kennels. Here one
half of a learned profession tilting full but against the other half of
it, and then tumbling and rolling one over the other in the dirt like
hogs.—Here the brethren of another profession, who should have run in
opposition to each other, flying on the contrary like a flock of wild
geese, all in a row the same way.—What confusion!—what
mistakes!——fiddlers and painters judging by their eyes and
ears—admirable!—trusting to the passions excited—in an air sung, or a
story painted to the heart——instead of measuring them by a quadrant.
In the fore-ground of this picture, a _statesman_ turning the political
wheel, like a brute, the wrong way round——_against_ the stream of
corruption—by Heaven!——instead of _with_ it.
In this corner, a son of the divine _Esculapius_, writing a book
against predestination; perhaps worse—feeling his patient’s pulse,
instead of his apothecary’s——a brother of the Faculty in the
back-ground upon his knees in tears—drawing the curtains of a mangled
victim to beg his forgiveness;—offering a fee—instead of taking one.
In that spacious HALL, a coalition of the gown, from all the bars of
it, driving a damn’d, dirty, vexatious cause before them, with all
their might and main, the wrong way!——kicking it _out_ of the great
doors, instead of, _in_——and with such fury in their looks, and such a
degree of inveteracy in their manner of kicking it, as if the laws had
been originally made for the peace and preservation of
mankind:——perhaps a more enormous mistake committed by them still——a
litigated point fairly hung up;——for instance, Whether _John o’Nokes_
his nose could stand in _Tom o’Stiles_ his face, without a trespass, or
not—rashly determined by them in five-and-twenty minutes, which, with
the cautious pros and cons required in so intricate a proceeding, might
have taken up as many months——and if carried on upon a military plan,
as your honours know an ACTION should be, with all the stratagems
practicable therein,——such as feints,—forced
marches,—surprizes—ambuscades—mask-batteries, and a thousand other
strokes of generalship, which consist in catching at all advantages on
both sides——might reasonably have lasted them as many years, finding
food and raiment all that term for a centumvirate of the profession.
As for the Clergy——No——if I say a word against them, I’ll be shot.——I
have no desire; and besides, if I had—I durst not for my soul touch
upon the subject——with such weak nerves and spirits, and in the
condition I am in at present, ’twould be as much as my life was worth,
to deject and contrist myself with so bad and melancholy an account—and
therefore ’tis safer to draw a curtain across, and hasten from it, as
fast as I can, to the main and principal point I have undertaken to
clear up——and that is, How it comes to pass, that your men of least
_wit_ are reported to be men of most _judgment._——But mark—I say,
_reported to be_—for it is no more, my dear Sirs, than a report, and
which, like twenty others taken up every day upon trust, I maintain to
be a vile and a malicious report into the bargain.
This by the help of the observation already premised, and I hope
already weighed and perpended by your reverences and worships, I shall
forthwith make appear.
I hate set dissertations——and above all things in the world, ’tis one
of the silliest things in one of them, to darken your hypothesis by
placing a number of tall, opake words, one before another, in a right
line, betwixt your own and your reader’s conception—when in all
likelihood, if you had looked about, you might have seen something
standing, or hanging up, which would have cleared the point at
once—“for what hindrance, hurt, or harm doth the laudable desire of
knowledge bring to any man, if even from a sot, a pot, a fool, a stool,
a winter-mittain, a truckle for a pully, the lid of a goldsmith’s
crucible, an oil bottle, an old slipper, or a cane chair?”—I am this
moment sitting upon one. Will you give me leave to illustrate this
affair of wit and judgment, by the two knobs on the top of the back of
it?—they are fastened on, you see, with two pegs stuck slightly into
two gimlet-holes, and will place what I have to say in so clear a
light, as to let you see through the drift and meaning of my whole
preface, as plainly as if every point and particle of it was made up of
sun-beams.