I have often heard it observed by the readers of biography, that the
characters are generally too high painted; and that the _good_ or
_bad_ qualities of the person pretended to be faithfully represented,
are displayed in stronger colours than are to be found in nature. To
this the lovers of hyperbole reply, that _virtue_ cannot be drawn too
beautiful, nor _vice_ too deformed, in order to excite in us an
ambition of imitating the _one_, and a horror at the thoughts of
becoming any way like the _other_.--The argument at first, indeed,
seems to have some weight, as there is nothing, not even precept
itself, which so greatly contributes whether to rectify or improve the
mind, as the prevalence of example: but then it ought to be
considered, that if the pattern laid down before us, is so altogether
angelic, as to render it impossible to be copied, emulation will be in
danger of being swallowed up in an unprofitable admiration; and, on
the other hand, if it appears so monstrously hideous as to take away
all apprehensions of ever resembling it, we might be too apt to
indulge ourselves in errors which would seem small in comparison with
those presented to us.--There never yet was any one man, in whom all
the _virtues_, or all the _vices_, were summed up; for, though reason
and education may go a great way toward curbing the passions, yet I
believe experience will inform, even the _best_ of men, that they will
sometimes launch out beyond their due bounds, in spite of all the care
can be taken to restrain them; nor do I think the very _worst_, and
most wicked, does not feel in himself, at some moments, a propensity
to good, though it may be possible he never brings it into practice;
at least, this was the opinion of the antients, as witness the poet's
words:
All men are born with seeds of _good_ and _ill_;
And each shoot forth, in more or less degree:
_One_ you may cultivate with care and skill,
But from the _other_ ne'er be wholly free.
The human mind may, I think, be compared to a chequer-work, where
light and shade appear by turns; and in proportion as either of these
is most conspicuous, the man is alone worthy of praise or censure; for
none there are can boast of being wholly bright.
I believe by this the reader will be convinced he must not expect to
see a faultless figure in the hero of the following pages; but to
remove all possibility of a disappointment on that score, I shall
farther declare, that I am an enemy to all _romances_, _novels_, and
whatever carries the air of them, tho' disguised under different
appellations; and as it is a _real_, not _fictitious_ character I am
about to present, I think myself obliged, for the reasons I have
already given, as well as to gratify my own inclinations, to draw him
such as he was, not such as some sanguine imaginations might with him
to have been.
I flatter myself, however, that _truth_ will appear not altogether
void of charms, and the adventures I take upon me to relate, not be
less pleasing for being within the reach of probability, and such as
might have happened to any other as well as the person they did.--Few
there are, I am pretty certain, who will not find some resemblance of
himself in one part or other of his life, among the many various and
surprizing turns of fortune, which the subject of this little history
experienced, as also be reminded in what manner the passions operate
in every stage of life, and how far the constitution of the _outward
frame_ is concerned in the emotions of the _internal faculties_.
These are things surely very necessary to be considered, and when they
are so, will, in a great measure, abate that unbecoming vehemence,
with which people are apt to testify their admiration, or abhorrence
of actions, which it very often happens would lose much of their
_eclat_ either way, were the secret springs that give them motion,
seen into with the eyes of philosophy and reflection.
But this will be more clearly understood by a perusal of the facts
herein contained, from which I will no longer detain in the attention
of my reader.
BOOK the First.