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The Preface
The wits of the present age being so very numerous and penetrating,
it seems the grandees of Church and State begin to fall under
horrible apprehensions lest these gentlemen, during the intervals of
a long peace, should find leisure to pick holes in the weak sides of
religion and government. To prevent which, there has been much
thought employed of late upon certain projects for taking off the
force and edge of those formidable inquirers from canvassing and
reasoning upon such delicate points. They have at length fixed upon
one, which will require some time as well as cost to perfect.
Meanwhile, the danger hourly increasing, by new levies of wits, all
appointed (as there is reason to fear) with pen, ink, and paper,
which may at an hour's warning be drawn out into pamphlets and other
offensive weapons ready for immediate execution, it was judged of
absolute necessity that some present expedient be thought on till
the main design can be brought to maturity. To this end, at a grand
committee, some days ago, this important discovery was made by a
certain curious and refined observer, that seamen have a custom when
they meet a Whale to fling him out an empty Tub, by way of
amusement, to divert him from laying violent hands upon the Ship.
This parable was immediately mythologised; the Whale was interpreted
to be Hobbes's "Leviathan," which tosses and plays with all other
schemes of religion and government, whereof a great many are hollow,
and dry, and empty, and noisy, and wooden, and given to rotation.
This is the Leviathan from whence the terrible wits of our age are
said to borrow their weapons. The Ship in danger is easily
understood to be its old antitype the commonwealth. But how to
analyse the Tub was a matter of difficulty, when, after long inquiry
and debate, the literal meaning was preserved, and it was decreed
that, in order to prevent these Leviathans from tossing and sporting
with the commonwealth, which of itself is too apt to fluctuate, they
should be diverted from that game by "A Tale of a Tub." And my
genius being conceived to lie not unhappily that way, I had the
honour done me to be engaged in the performance.
This is the sole design in publishing the following treatise, which
I hope will serve for an interim of some months to employ those
unquiet spirits till the perfecting of that great work, into the
secret of which it is reasonable the courteous reader should have
some little light.
It is intended that a large Academy be erected, capable of
containing nine thousand seven hundred forty and three persons,
which, by modest computation, is reckoned to be pretty near the
current number of wits in this island {50}. These are to be
disposed into the several schools of this Academy, and there pursue
those studies to which their genius most inclines them. The
undertaker himself will publish his proposals with all convenient
speed, to which I shall refer the curious reader for a more
particular account, mentioning at present only a few of the
principal schools. There is, first, a large pederastic school, with
French and Italian masters; there is also the spelling school, a
very spacious building; the school of looking-glasses; the school of
swearing; the school of critics; the school of salivation; the
school of hobby-horses; the school of poetry; the school of tops;
the school of spleen; the school of gaming; with many others too
tedious to recount. No person to be admitted member into any of
these schools without an attestation under two sufficient persons'
hands certifying him to be a wit.
But to return. I am sufficiently instructed in the principal duty
of a preface if my genius, were capable of arriving at it. Thrice
have I forced my imagination to take the tour of my invention, and
thrice it has returned empty, the latter having been wholly drained
by the following treatise. Not so my more successful brethren the
moderns, who will by no means let slip a preface or dedication
without some notable distinguishing stroke to surprise the reader at
the entry, and kindle a wonderful expectation of what is to ensue.
Such was that of a most ingenious poet, who, soliciting his brain
for something new, compared himself to the hangman and his patron to
the patient. This was insigne, recens, indictum ore alio {51a}.
When I went through that necessary and noble course of study, {51b}
I had the happiness to observe many such egregious touches, which I
shall not injure the authors by transplanting, because I have
remarked that nothing is so very tender as a modern piece of wit,
and which is apt to suffer so much in the carriage. Some things are
extremely witty to-day, or fasting, or in this place, or at eight
o'clock, or over a bottle, or spoke by Mr. Whatdyecall'm, or in a
summer's morning, any of which, by the smallest transposal or
misapplication, is utterly annihilate. Thus wit has its walks and
purlieus, out of which it may not stray the breadth of a hair, upon
peril of being lost. The moderns have artfully fixed this Mercury,
and reduced it to the circumstances of time, place, and person.
Such a jest there is that will not pass out of Covent Garden, and
such a one that is nowhere intelligible but at Hyde Park Corner.
Now, though it sometimes tenderly affects me to consider that all
the towardly passages I shall deliver in the following treatise will
grow quite out of date and relish with the first shifting of the
present scene, yet I must need subscribe to the justice of this
proceeding, because I cannot imagine why we should be at expense to
furnish wit for succeeding ages, when the former have made no sort
of provision for ours; wherein I speak the sentiment of the very
newest, and consequently the most orthodox refiners, as well as my
own. However, being extremely solicitous that every accomplished
person who has got into the taste of wit calculated for this present
month of August 1697 should descend to the very bottom of all the
sublime throughout this treatise, I hold it fit to lay down this
general maxim. Whatever reader desires to have a thorough
comprehension of an author's thoughts, cannot take a better method
than by putting himself into the circumstances and posture of life
that the writer was in upon every important passage as it flowed
from his pen, for this will introduce a parity and strict
correspondence of ideas between the reader and the author. Now, to
assist the diligent reader in so delicate an affair--as far as
brevity will permit--I have recollected that the shrewdest pieces of
this treatise were conceived in bed in a garret. At other times
(for a reason best known to myself) I thought fit to sharpen my
invention with hunger, and in general the whole work was begun,
continued, and ended under a long course of physic and a great want
of money. Now, I do affirm it will be absolutely impossible for the
candid peruser to go along with me in a great many bright passages,
unless upon the several difficulties emergent he will please to
capacitate and prepare himself by these directions. And this I lay
down as my principal postulatum.
Because I have professed to be a most devoted servant of all modern
forms, I apprehend some curious wit may object against me for
proceeding thus far in a preface without declaiming, according to
custom, against the multitude of writers whereof the whole multitude
of writers most reasonably complain. I am just come from perusing
some hundreds of prefaces, wherein the authors do at the very
beginning address the gentle reader concerning this enormous
grievance. Of these I have preserved a few examples, and shall set
them down as near as my memory has been able to retain them.
One begins thus: "For a man to set up for a writer when the press
swarms with," &c.
Another: "The tax upon paper does not lessen the number of
scribblers who daily pester," &c.
Another: "When every little would-be wit takes pen in hand, 'tis in
vain to enter the lists," &c.
Another: "To observe what trash the press swarms with," &c.
Another: "Sir, it is merely in obedience to your commands that I
venture into the public, for who upon a less consideration would be
of a party with such a rabble of scribblers," &c.
Now, I have two words in my own defence against this objection.
First, I am far from granting the number of writers a nuisance to
our nation, having strenuously maintained the contrary in several
parts of the following discourse; secondly, I do not well understand
the justice of this proceeding, because I observe many of these
polite prefaces to be not only from the same hand, but from those
who are most voluminous in their several productions; upon which I
shall tell the reader a short tale.
A mountebank in Leicester Fields had drawn a huge assembly about
him. Among the rest, a fat unwieldy fellow, half stifled in the
press, would be every fit crying out, "Lord! what a filthy crowd is
here. Pray, good people, give way a little. Bless need what a
devil has raked this rabble together. Z----ds, what squeezing is
this? Honest friend, remove your elbow." At last a weaver that
stood next him could hold no longer. "A plague confound you," said
he, "for an overgrown sloven; and who in the devil's name, I wonder,
helps to make up the crowd half so much as yourself? Don't you
consider that you take up more room with that carcass than any five
here? Is not the place as free for us as for you? Bring your own
guts to a reasonable compass, and then I'll engage we shall have
room enough for us all."
There are certain common privileges of a writer, the benefit whereof
I hope there will be no reason to doubt; particularly, that where I
am not understood, it shall be concluded that something very useful
and profound is couched underneath; and again, that whatever word or
sentence is printed in a different character shall be judged to
contain something extraordinary either of wit or sublime.
As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of praising myself,
upon some occasions or none, I am sure it will need no excuse if a
multitude of great examples be allowed sufficient authority; for it
is here to be noted that praise was originally a pension paid by the
world, but the moderns, finding the trouble and charge too great in
collecting it, have lately bought out the fee-simple, since which
time the right of presentation is wholly in ourselves. For this
reason it is that when an author makes his own eulogy, he uses a
certain form to declare and insist upon his title, which is commonly
in these or the like words, "I speak without vanity," which I think
plainly shows it to be a matter of right and justice. Now, I do
here once for all declare, that in every encounter of this nature
through the following treatise the form aforesaid is implied, which
I mention to save the trouble of repeating it on so many occasions.
It is a great ease to my conscience that I have written so elaborate
and useful a discourse without one grain of satire intermixed, which
is the sole point wherein I have taken leave to dissent from the
famous originals of our age and country. I have observed some
satirists to use the public much at the rate that pedants do a
naughty boy ready horsed for discipline. First expostulate the
case, then plead the necessity of the rod from great provocations,
and conclude every period with a lash. Now, if I know anything of
mankind, these gentlemen might very well spare their reproof and
correction, for there is not through all Nature another so callous
and insensible a member as the world's posteriors, whether you apply
to it the toe or the birch. Besides, most of our late satirists
seem to lie under a sort of mistake, that because nettles have the
prerogative to sting, therefore all other weeds must do so too. I
make not this comparison out of the least design to detract from
these worthy writers, for it is well known among mythologists that
weeds have the pre-eminence over all other vegetables; and therefore
the first monarch of this island whose taste and judgment were so
acute and refined, did very wisely root out the roses from the
collar of the order and plant the thistles in their stead, as the
nobler flower of the two. For which reason it is conjectured by
profounder antiquaries that the satirical itch, so prevalent in this
part of our island, was first brought among us from beyond the
Tweed. Here may it long flourish and abound; may it survive and
neglect the scorn of the world with as much ease and contempt as the
world is insensible to the lashes of it. May their own dulness, or
that of their party, be no discouragement for the authors to
proceed; but let them remember it is with wits as with razors, which
are never so apt to cut those they are employed on as when they have
lost their edge. Besides, those whose teeth are too rotten to bite
are best of all others qualified to revenge that defect with their
breath.
I am not, like other men, to envy or undervalue the talents I cannot
reach, for which reason I must needs bear a true honour to this
large eminent sect of our British writers. And I hope this little
panegyric will not be offensive to their ears, since it has the
advantage of being only designed for themselves. Indeed, Nature
herself has taken order that fame and honour should be purchased at
a better pennyworth by satire than by any other productions of the
brain, the world being soonest provoked to praise by lashes, as men
are to love. There is a problem in an ancient author why
dedications and other bundles of flattery run all upon stale musty
topics, without the smallest tincture of anything new, not only to
the torment and nauseating of the Christian reader, but, if not
suddenly prevented, to the universal spreading of that pestilent
disease the lethargy in this island, whereas there is very little
satire which has not something in it untouched before. The defects
of the former are usually imputed to the want of invention among
those who are dealers in that kind; but I think with a great deal of
injustice, the solution being easy and natural, for the materials of
panegyric, being very few in number, have been long since exhausted;
for as health is but one thing, and has been always the same,
whereas diseases are by thousands, besides new and daily additions,
so all the virtues that have been ever in mankind are to be counted
upon a few fingers, but his follies and vices are innumerable, and
time adds hourly to the heap. Now the utmost a poor poet can do is
to get by heart a list of the cardinal virtues and deal them with
his utmost liberality to his hero or his patron. He may ring the
changes as far as it will go, and vary his phrase till he has talked
round, but the reader quickly finds it is all pork, {56a} with a
little variety of sauce, for there is no inventing terms of art
beyond our ideas, and when ideas are exhausted, terms of art must be
so too.
But though the matter for panegyric were as fruitful as the topics
of satire, yet would it not be hard to find out a sufficient reason
why the latter will be always better received than the first; for
this being bestowed only upon one or a few persons at a time, is
sure to raise envy, and consequently ill words, from the rest who
have no share in the blessing. But satire, being levelled at all,
is never resented for an offence by any, since every individual
person makes bold to understand it of others, and very wisely
removes his particular part of the burden upon the shoulders of the
World, which are broad enough and able to bear it. To this purpose
I have sometimes reflected upon the difference between Athens and
England with respect to the point before us. In the Attic {56b}
commonwealth it was the privilege and birthright of every citizen
and poet to rail aloud and in public, or to expose upon the stage by
name any person they pleased, though of the greatest figure, whether
a Creon, an Hyperbolus, an Alcibiades, or a Demosthenes. But, on
the other side, the least reflecting word let fall against the
people in general was immediately caught up and revenged upon the
authors, however considerable for their quality or their merits;
whereas in England it is just the reverse of all this. Here you may
securely display your utmost rhetoric against mankind in the face of
the world; tell them that all are gone astray; that there is none
that doeth good, no, not one; that we live in the very dregs of
time; that knavery and atheism are epidemic as the pox; that honesty
is fled with Astraea; with any other common-places equally new and
eloquent, which are furnished by the splendida bills {56c}; and when
you have done, the whole audience, far from being offended, shall
return you thanks as a deliverer of precious and useful truths.
Nay, further, it is but to venture your lungs, and you may preach in
Covent Garden against foppery and fornication, and something else;
against pride, and dissimulation, and bribery at Whitehall. You may
expose rapine and injustice in the Inns-of-Court chapel, and in a
City pulpit be as fierce as you please against avarice, hypocrisy,
and extortion. It is but a ball bandied to and fro, and every man
carries a racket about him to strike it from himself among the rest
of the company. But, on the other side, whoever should mistake the
nature of things so far as to drop but a single hint in public how
such a one starved half the fleet, and half poisoned the rest; how
such a one, from a true principle of love and honour, pays no debts
but for wenches and play; how such a one runs out of his estate; how
Paris, bribed by Juno and Venus, loath to offend either party, slept
out the whole cause on the bench; or how such an orator makes long
speeches in the Senate, with much thought, little sense, and to no
purpose;--whoever, I say, should venture to be thus particular, must
expect to be imprisoned for scandalum magnatum, to have challenges
sent him, to be sued for defamation, and to be brought before the
bar of the House.
But I forget that I am expatiating on a subject wherein I have no
concern, having neither a talent nor an inclination for satire. On
the other side, I am so entirely satisfied with the whole present
procedure of human things, that I have been for some years preparing
material towards "A Panegyric upon the World;" to which I intended
to add a second part, entitled "A Modest Defence of the Proceedings
of the Rabble in all Ages." Both these I had thoughts to publish by
way of appendix to the following treatise; but finding my common-
place book fill much slower than I had reason to expect, I have
chosen to defer them to another occasion. Besides, I have been
unhappily prevented in that design by a certain domestic misfortune,
in the particulars whereof, though it would be very seasonable, and
much in the modern way, to inform the gentle reader, and would also
be of great assistance towards extending this preface into the size
now in vogue--which by rule ought to be large in proportion as the
subsequent volume is small--yet I shall now dismiss our impatient
reader from any further attendance at the porch; and having duly
prepared his mind by a preliminary discourse, shall gladly introduce
him to the sublime mysteries that ensue.
Content of The Preface [Jonathan Swift's ebook: A Tale of a Tub]
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