SIR,

I am the modest young man whom you favoured with your advice, in a

late paper; and, as I am very far from suspecting that you foresaw the

numberless inconveniencies which I have, by following it, brought upon

myself, I will lay my condition open before you, for you seem bound

to extricate me from the perplexities in which your counsel, however

innocent in the intention, has contributed to involve me.

You told me, as you thought, to my comfort, that a writer might easily

find means of introducing his genius to the world, for the _presses of

England were open_. This I have now fatally experienced; the press is,

indeed, open.

_----Facilis descensus Averni,_

_Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis._

VIRG. Æn. lib. vi. 126.

The gates of hell are open night and day;

Smooth the descent, and easy is the way.

DRYDEN.

The means of doing hurt to ourselves are always at hand. I immediately

sent to a printer, and contracted with him for an impression of several

thousands of my pamphlet. While it was at the press, I was seldom absent

from the printing-house, and continually urged the workmen to haste, by

solicitations, promises, and rewards. From the day all other pleasures

were excluded, by the delightful employment of correcting the sheets; and

from the night, sleep generally was banished, by anticipations of the

happiness which every hour was bringing nearer. At last the time of

publication approached, and my heart beat with the raptures of an author.

I was above all little precautions, and, in defiance of envy or of

criticism, set my name upon the title, without sufficiently considering,

that what has once passed the press is irrevocable, and that though the

printing-house may properly be compared to the infernal regions, for the

facility of its entrance, and the difficulty with which authors return

from it; yet there is this difference, that a great genius can never

return to his former state, by a happy draught of the waters of oblivion.

I am now, Mr. Rambler, known to be an author, and am condemned,

irreversibly condemned, to all the miseries of high reputation. The first

morning after publication my friends assembled about me; I presented

each, as is usual, with a copy of my book. They looked into the first

pages, but were hindered, by their admiration, from reading further. The

first pages are, indeed, very elaborate. Some passages they particularly

dwelt upon, as more eminently beautiful than the rest; and some delicate

strokes, and secret elegancies, I pointed out to them, which had escaped

their observation. I then begged of them to forbear their compliments,

and invited them, I could do no less, to dine with me at a tavern.

After dinner, the book was resumed; but their praises very often so much

over-powered my modesty, that I was forced to put about the glass, and

had often no means of repressing the clamours of their admiration, but by

thundering to the drawer for another bottle.

Next morning another set of my acquaintance congratulated me upon my

performance, with such importunity of praise, that I was again forced

to obviate their civilities by a treat. On the third day, I had yet a

greater number of applauders to put to silence in the same manner; and,

on the fourth, those whom I had entertained the first day came again,

having, in the perusal of the remaining part of the book, discovered so

many forcible sentences and masterly touches, that it was impossible for

me to bear the repetition of their commendations. I therefore persuaded

them once more to adjourn to the tavern, and choose some other subject,

on which I might share in their conversation. But it was not in their

power to withhold their attention from my performance, which had so

entirely taken possession of their minds, that no entreaties of mine

could change their topick, and I was obliged to stifle, with claret, that

praise which neither my modesty could hinder, nor my uneasiness repress.

The whole week was thus spent in a kind of literary revel, and I have now

found that nothing is so expensive as great abilities, unless there is

joined with them an insatiable eagerness of praise; for to escape from

the pain of hearing myself exalted above the greatest names, dead and

living, of the learned world, it has already cost me two hogsheads of

port, fifteen gallons of arrack, ten dozen of claret, and five and forty

bottles of champagne.

I was resolved to stay at home no longer, and therefore rose early and

went to the coffee-house; but found that I had now made myself too

eminent for happiness, and that I was no longer to enjoy the pleasure

of mixing, upon equal terms, with the rest of the world. As soon as I

enter the room, I see part of the company raging with envy, which they

endeavour to conceal, sometimes with the appearance of laughter, and

sometimes with that of contempt; but the disguise is such, that I can

discover the secret rancour of their hearts, and as envy is deservedly

its own punishment, I frequently indulge myself in tormenting them with

my presence.

But though there may be some slight satisfaction received from the

mortification of my enemies, yet my benevolence will not suffer me to

take any pleasure in the terrours of my friends. I have been cautious,

since the appearance of my work, not to give myself more premeditated

airs of superiority, than the most rigid humility might allow. It is,

indeed, not impossible that I may sometimes have laid down my opinion,

in a manner that shewed a consciousness of my ability to maintain it, or

interrupted the conversation, when I saw its tendency, without suffering

the speaker to waste his time in explaining his sentiments; and, indeed,

I did indulge myself for two days in a custom of drumming with my

fingers, when the company began to lose themselves in absurdities, or

to encroach upon subjects which I knew them unqualified to discuss. But

I generally acted with great appearance of respect, even to those whose

stupidity I pitied in my heart. Yet, notwithstanding this exemplary

moderation, so universal is the dread of uncommon powers, and such the

unwillingness of mankind to be made wiser, that I have now for some days

found myself shunned by all my acquaintance. If I knock at a door, nobody

is at home; if I enter a coffee-house, I have the box to myself. I live

in the town like a lion in his desert, or an eagle on his rock, too great

for friendship or society, and condemned to solitude by unhappy elevation

and dreaded ascendency.

Nor is my character only formidable to others, but burdensome to myself.

I naturally love to talk without much thinking, to scatter my merriment

at random, and to relax my thoughts with ludicrous remarks and fanciful

images; but such is now the importance of my opinion, that I am afraid to

offer it, lest, by being established too hastily into a maxim, it should

be the occasion of errour to half the nation; and such is the expectation

with which I am attended, when I am going to speak, that I frequently

pause to reflect whether what I am about to utter is worthy of myself.

This, Sir, is sufficiently miserable; but there are still greater

calamities behind. You must have read in Pope and Swift how men of parts

have had their closets rifled, and their cabinets broke open, at the

instigation of piratical booksellers, for the profit of their works; and

it is apparent that there are many prints now sold in the shops, of men

whom you cannot suspect of sitting for that purpose, and whose likenesses

must have been certainly stolen when their names made their faces

vendible. These considerations at first put me on my guard, and I have,

indeed, found sufficient reason for my caution, for I have discovered

many people examining my countenance, with a curiosity that shewed their

intention to draw it; I immediately left the house, but find the same

behaviour in another.

Others may be persecuted, but I am haunted; I have good reason to believe

that eleven painters are now dogging me, for they know that he who can get

my face first will make his fortune. I often change my wig, and wear my

hat over my eyes, by which I hope somewhat to confound them; for you know

it is not fair to sell my face, without admitting me to share the profit.

I am, however, not so much in pain for my face as for my papers, which I

dare neither carry with me nor leave behind. I have, indeed, taken some

measures for their preservation, having put them in an iron chest, and

fixed a padlock upon my closet. I change my lodgings five times a week,

and always remove at the dead of night.

Thus I live, in consequence of having given too great proofs of a

predominant genius, in the solitude of a hermit, with the anxiety of

a miser, and the caution of an outlaw; afraid to shew my face lest it

should be copied; afraid to speak, lest I should injure my character;

and to write, lest my correspondents should publish my letters; always

uneasy lest my servants should steal my papers for the sake of money, or

my friends for that of the publick. This it is to soar above the rest of

mankind; and this representation I lay before you, that I may be informed

how to divest myself of the laurels which are so cumbersome to the

wearer, and descend to the enjoyment of that quiet, from which I find a

writer of the first class so fatally debarred.