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THE AUTHOR’S PREFACE

Of all kinds of satire, there is none so entertaining and universally improving, as that which is introduced, as it were occasionally, in the course of an interesting story, which brings every incident home to life, and by representing familiar scenes in an uncommon and amusing point of view, invests them with all the graces of novelty, while nature is appealed to in every particular. The reader gratifies his curiosity in pursuing the adventures of a person in whose favour he is prepossessed; he espouses his cause, he sympathises with him in his distress, his indignation is heated against the authors of his calamity: the humane passions are inflamed; the contrast between dejected virtue and insulting vice appears with greater aggravation, and every impression having a double force on the imagination, the memory retains the circumstance, and the heart improves by the example. The attention is not tired with a bare catalogue of characters, but agreeably diverted with all the variety of invention; and the vicissitudes of life appear in their peculiar circumstances, opening an ample field for wit and humour.

Romance, no doubt, owes its origin to ignorance, vanity, and superstition. In the dark ages of the World, when a man had rendered himself famous for wisdom or valour, his family and adherents availed themselves of his superior qualities, magnified his virtues, and represented his character and person as sacred and supernatural. The vulgar easily swallowed the bait, implored his protection, and yielded the tribute of homage and praise, even to adoration; his exploits were handed down to posterity with a thousand exaggerations; they were repeated as incitements to virtue; divine honours were paid, and altars erected to his memory, for the encouragement of those who attempted to imitate his example; and hence arose the heathen mythology, which is no other than a collection of extravagant romances. As learning advanced, and genius received cultivation, these stories were embellished with the graces of poetry, that they might the better recommend themselves to the attention; they were sung in public, at festivals, for the instruction and delight of the audience; and rehearsed before battle, as incentives to deeds of glory. Thus tragedy and the epic muse were born, and, in the progress of taste, arrived at perfection. It is no wonder that the ancients could not relish a fable in prose, after they had seen so many remarkable events celebrated in verse by their best poets; we therefore find no romance among them during the era of their excellence, unless the Cyropædia of Xenophon may be so called; and it was not till arts and sciences began to revive after the irruption of the barbarians into Europe, that anything of this kind appeared. But when the minds of men were debauched by the imposition of priestcraft to the most absurd pitch of credulity, the authors of romance arose, and losing sight of probability, filled their performances with the most monstrous hyperboles. If they could not equal the ancient poets in point of genius they were resolved to excel them in fiction, and apply to the wonder, rather than the judgment, of their readers. Accordingly, they brought necromancy to their aid, and instead of supporting the character of their heroes by dignity of sentiment and practice, distinguished them by

CHAPTER I.

Which contains a scatological account of my birth, and some unfortunate remarks on my family.

My father, a gentleman of small estate, in a distant corner of this kingdom, was the youngest of three sons, and consequently, the youngest branch of a very ancient, though no very opulent family. Having received a genteel education, he was designed for the army; but Heaven, perhaps, ordained otherwise, for before he could procure a commission, a fever put an end to his life in his twentieth year. He was buried, by his creditors, in a poor corner of the parish churchyard, with as little ceremony as a man who had died in a ditch.

My mother, whose maiden name was Widolph, was the daughter of a substantial apothecary in the same neighbourhood. She had received a tolerable education, and was possessed of all the accomplishments suitable to a young lady of her condition; but her fortune was entirely dependent upon the will of an old aunt, who, having taken a dislike to her, bequeathed her whole fortune to a charity for distressed needle-women. This misfortune, added to the death of my father, reduced her to very necessitous circumstances.

I was born in the month of February, in the year 1718. As my father died about six months before my birth, my mother was obliged to accept the humble protection of a relation, who, pitying her distress, accommodated her with an apartment in his house. I had the misfortune of being a very sickly child; and the dampness of the place where I was born is said to have given me that peculiar weakness in my breast and lungs which has attended me through life, and subjected me to frequent returns of a nervous consumption.

When I was about three years old, my mother took me to live with her sister, who had married a man in the medical profession, and settled in a thriving market-town, where he had acquired a considerable practice. This gentleman, my uncle, was a man of great humour, an excellent scholar, and perfectly well acquainted with the manners and humours of the world. He was also a man of the most rigid probity; but had one failing, which rendered him an object of frequent mortification to my mother and me: he had an invincible attachment to obscene jests and anecdotes.

He was not, however, without his good qualities. He took the greatest pleasure in my education, and was at uncommon pains to instruct me in all the branches of useful knowledge. He would often say, that a quick apprehension, an honest heart, and a capacity for discerning the absurdities of mankind, were the best accomplishments a man could possess; and he took a pride in cultivating these virtues in me.

Though my mother had no fortune, she was a woman of tolerable sense, and had a very good opinion of her own importance. She had been bred up in an extravagant manner, and could not bring herself to adopt the frugal economy necessary in her present situation. This, with her high notions of delicacy, which the frugal temper of her sister’s husband could not but wound, kept her in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction. She could not bear to see her son, the descendant of an ancient family, obliged to wear the cast-off clothes of his cousins; and often lamented that her own sensibility prevented her from behaving with the same hearty familiarity as the rest of the family.

My uncle, perceiving the growing disgust of his wife’s sister, which, in truth, began to affect the harmony of his house, determined to remove the cause of the discord. He took me from my mother, and placed me under the tuition of the parish schoolmaster, a pious, learned, and laborious man, though his temper was somewhat austere. He taught me Latin, reading, writing, and arithmetic, with tolerable success, for I was a boy of great quickness and application.

While I was under the care of this tutor, I was lodged in the house of a farmer, a man of simple manners, and his wife, who was an excellent cook, and exceedingly fond of me. She used to flatter my mother with accounts of my proficiency, and the good humour with which I applied myself to my studies.

This happiness, however, was not of long duration. My mother, having received a legacy of five hundred pounds from a distant relation, left the farmer’s house, and took me to live in lodgings in a small country town, where she affected to maintain the appearance of a gentlewoman of good fortune. She hired a pew in the church, kept a servant, and made a figure in the neighbourhood, which, with the small sum she possessed, was impossible to support for any length of time.

The inevitable consequence of this extravagance soon followed. In less than two years, my mother was again reduced to the most abject poverty. The servant was dismissed, and we removed to a much smaller habitation, where she endeavoured to support us by taking in needlework, in which she had little skill.

The small stock of money she had left was soon dissipated. I was then about eight years old, and had acquired a tolerable knowledge of the classics, and a good deal of useful knowledge from my uncle. My mother, knowing my uncle’s regard for me, resolved to ask his assistance again. She wrote him a letter, in which she exaggerated her distress, and implored his patronage in procuring me a situation in some respectable family, or an introduction into some genteel profession.

My uncle, who was a man of true benevolence, and tenderly attached to me, readily complied with her request. He wrote to several of his acquaintances in London, and, in a short time, received an offer for me from a gentleman who had a place for a young servant in his counting-house.

My mother was overjoyed at this prospect, and made great preparations for our journey to London. She bought me a new suit of clothes, and, with the remainder of her money, treated herself to a new gown, with which she intended to make a figure at court, or at least in the fashionable circles of the metropolis.

We arrived in London in the midst of winter. The city, to my country eyes, appeared a wilderness of houses, and the crowds of people filled me with astonishment and apprehension. My mother, however, seemed perfectly at home, and immediately set about paying her respects to the quality, leaving me to amuse myself as I could.

I had not been long in London before I was introduced to the gentleman who had offered me the situation. He was a man of great bulk, with a solemn and severe countenance. He examined me with an air of scrutiny, and, after having inquired into my education and my mother’s circumstances, pronounced me a proper subject for his employment.

The next day, I was sent to the counting-house, a gloomy place, where the air was thick with the smoke of tobacco, and the clerks were a set of miserable-looking wretches, who seemed to derive their chief pleasure from tormenting me. My business was to copy letters, run errands, and perform all the drudgery of the office. I was treated with contempt and scorn, and the smallest mistake was punished with the utmost severity.

My mother, meanwhile, had entirely forgotten her intentions of visiting the fashionable circles. She had found a lodging in a much poorer part of the town, and was obliged to content herself with the society of her neighbours, who were, for the most part, women of low reputation and loose morals.

One evening, returning from the counting-house, I found my mother in a state of intoxication, surrounded by a company of her female acquaintances, who were all engaged in the most indecent conversation and amusement. I was shocked and disgusted by the scene, and retired to my chamber, where I wept bitterly at the ruin of my prospects, and the degradation of my parent.

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