AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
As it is possible the mere English reader may have a different idea ofromance from the author of these little[A] volumes, and may consequentlyexpect a kind of entertainment not to be found, nor which was evenintended, in the following pages, it may not be improper to premise afew words concerning this kind of writing, which I do not remember tohave seen hitherto attempted in our language.
[A] _Joseph Andrews_ was originally published in 2 vols. duodecimo.
The EPIC, as well as the DRAMA, is divided into tragedy and comedy.HOMER, who was the father of this species of poetry, gave us a patternof both these, though that of the latter kind is entirely lost; whichAristotle tells us, bore the same relation to comedy which his Iliadbears to tragedy. And perhaps, that we have no more instances of itamong the writers of antiquity, is owing to the loss of this greatpattern, which, had it survived, would have found its imitators equallywith the other poems of this great original.
And farther, as this poetry may be tragic or comic, I will not scrupleto say it may be likewise either in verse or prose: for though it wantsone particular, which the critic enumerates in the constituent parts ofan epic poem, namely metre; yet, when any kind of writing contains allits other parts, such as fable, action, characters, sentiments, anddiction, and is deficient in metre only, it seems, I think, reasonableto refer it to the epic; at least, as no critic hath thought proper torange it under any other head, or to assign it a particular nameto itself.
Thus the Telemachus of the archbishop of Cambray appears to me of theepic kind, as well as the Odyssey of Homer; indeed, it is much fairerand more reasonable to give it a name common with that species fromwhich it differs only in a single instance, than to confound it withthose which it resembles in no other. Such are those voluminous works,commonly called Romances, namely, Clelia, Cleopatra, Astraea, Cassandra,the Grand Cyrus, and innumerable others, which contain, as I apprehend,very little instruction or entertainment.
Now, a comic romance is a comic epic poem in prose; differing fromcomedy, as the serious epic from tragedy: its action being more extendedand comprehensive; containing a much larger circle of incidents, andintroducing a greater variety of characters. It differs from the seriousromance in its fable and action, in this; that as in the one these aregrave and solemn, so in the other they are light and ridiculous: itdiffers in its characters by introducing persons of inferior rank, andconsequently, of inferior manners, whereas the grave romance sets thehighest before us: lastly, in its sentiments and diction; by preservingthe ludicrous instead of the sublime. In the diction, I think,burlesque itself may be sometimes admitted; of which many instanceswill occur in this work, as in the description of the battles, and someother places, not necessary to be pointed out to the classical reader,for whose entertainment those parodies or burlesque imitations arechiefly calculated.
But though we have sometimes admitted this in our diction, we havecarefully excluded it from our sentiments and characters; for there itis never properly introduced, unless in writings of the burlesque kind,which this is not intended to be. Indeed, no two species of writing candiffer more widely than the comic and the burlesque; for as the latteris ever the exhibition of what is monstrous and unnatural, and where ourdelight, if we examine it, arises from the surprizing absurdity, as inappropriating the manners of the highest to the lowest, or _e converso_;so in the former we should ever confine ourselves strictly to nature,from the just imitation of which will flow all the pleasure we can thisway convey to a sensible reader. And perhaps there is one reason why acomic writer should of all others be the least excused for deviatingfrom nature, since it may not be always so easy for a serious poet tomeet with the great and the admirable; but life everywhere furnishes anaccurate observer with the ridiculous.
I have hinted this little concerning burlesque, because I have oftenheard that name given to performances which have been truly of the comickind, from the author's having sometimes admitted it in his dictiononly; which, as it is the dress of poetry, doth, like the dress of men,establish characters (the one of the whole poem, and the other of thewhole man), in vulgar opinion, beyond any of their greater excellences:but surely, a certain drollery in stile, where characters and sentimentsare perfectly natural, no more constitutes the burlesque, than an emptypomp and dignity of words, where everything else is mean and low, canentitle any performance to the appellation of the true sublime.
And I apprehend my Lord Shaftesbury's opinion of mere burlesque agreeswith mine, when he asserts, There is no such thing to be found in thewritings of the ancients. But perhaps I have less abhorrence than heprofesses for it; and that, not because I have had some little successon the stage this way, but rather as it contributes more to exquisitemirth and laughter than any other; and these are probably more wholesomephysic for the mind, and conduce better to purge away spleen,melancholy, and ill affections, than is generally imagined. Nay, I willappeal to common observation, whether the same companies are not foundmore full of good-humour and benevolence, after they have been sweetenedfor two or three hours with entertainments of this kind, than whensoured by a tragedy or a grave lecture.
But to illustrate all this by another science, in which, perhaps, weshall see the distinction more clearly and plainly, let us examine theworks of a comic history painter, with those performances which theItalians call Caricatura, where we shall find the true excellence of theformer to consist in the exactest copying of nature; insomuch that ajudicious eye instantly rejects anything _outre_, any liberty which thepainter hath taken with the features of that _alma mater_; whereas inthe Caricatura we allow all licence--its aim is to exhibit monsters,not men; and all distortions and exaggerations whatever are within itsproper province.
Now, what Caricatura is in painting, Burlesque is in writing; and in thesame manner the comic writer and painter correlate to each other. Andhere I shall observe, that, as in the former the painter seems to havethe advantage; so it is in the latter infinitely on the side of thewriter; for the Monstrous is much easier to paint than describe, and theRidiculous to describe than paint.
And though perhaps this latter species doth not in either science sostrongly affect and agitate the muscles as the other; yet it will beowned, I believe, that a more rational and useful pleasure arises to usfrom it. He who should call the ingenious Hogarth a burlesque painter,would, in my opinion, do him very little honour; for sure it is mucheasier, much less the subject of admiration, to paint a man with a nose,or any other feature, of a preposterous size, or to expose him in someabsurd or monstrous attitude, than to express the affections of men oncanvas. It hath been thought a vast commendation of a painter to say hisfigures seem to breathe; but surely it is a much greater and noblerapplause, that they appear to think.
But to return. The Ridiculous only, as I have before said, falls withinmy province in the present work. Nor will some explanation of this wordbe thought impertinent by the reader, if he considers how wonderfully ithath been mistaken, even by writers who have professed it: for to whatbut such a mistake can we attribute the many attempts to ridicule theblackest villanies, and, what is yet worse, the most dreadfulcalamities? What could exceed the absurdity of an author, who shouldwrite the comedy of Nero, with the merry incident of ripping up hismother's belly? or what would give a greater shock to humanity than anattempt to expose the miseries of poverty and distress to ridicule? Andyet the reader will not want much learning to suggest such instancesto himself.
Besides, it may seem remarkable, that Aristotle, who is so fond and freeof definitions, hath not thought proper to define the Ridiculous.Indeed, where he tells us it is proper to comedy, he hath remarked thatvillany is not its object: but he hath not, as I remember, positivelyasserted what is. Nor doth the Abbe Bellegarde, who hath written atreatise on this subject, though he shows us many species of it, oncetrace it to its fountain.
The only source of the true Ridiculous (as it appears to me) isaffectation. But though it arises from one spring only, when we considerthe infin
ite streams into which this one branches, we shall presentlycease to admire at the copious field it affords to an observer. Now,affectation proceeds from one of these two causes, vanity or hypocrisy:for as vanity puts us on affecting false characters, in order topurchase applause; so hypocrisy sets us on an endeavour to avoidcensure, by concealing our vices under an appearance of their oppositevirtues. And though these two causes are often confounded (for there issome difficulty in distinguishing them), yet, as they proceed from verydifferent motives, so they are as clearly distinct in their operations:for indeed, the affectation which arises from vanity is nearer to truththan the other, as it hath not that violent repugnancy of nature tostruggle with, which that of the hypocrite hath. It may be likewisenoted, that affectation doth not imply an absolute negation of thosequalities which are affected; and, therefore, though, when it proceedsfrom hypocrisy, it be nearly allied to deceit; yet when it comes fromvanity only, it partakes of the nature of ostentation: for instance, theaffectation of liberality in a vain man differs visibly from the sameaffectation in the avaricious; for though the vain man is not what hewould appear, or hath not the virtue he affects, to the degree he wouldbe thought to have it; yet it sits less awkwardly on him than on theavaricious man, who is the very reverse of what he would seem to be.
From the discovery of this affectation arises the Ridiculous, whichalways strikes the reader with surprize and pleasure; and that in ahigher and stronger degree when the affectation arises from hypocrisy,than when from vanity; for to discover any one to be the exact reverseof what he affects, is more surprizing, and consequently moreridiculous, than to find him a little deficient in the quality hedesires the reputation of. I might observe that our Ben Jonson, who ofall men understood the Ridiculous the best, hath chiefly used thehypocritical affectation.
Now, from affectation only, the misfortunes and calamities of life, orthe imperfections of nature, may become the objects of ridicule. Surelyhe hath a very ill-framed mind who can look on ugliness, infirmity, orpoverty, as ridiculous in themselves: nor do I believe any man living,who meets a dirty fellow riding through the streets in a cart, isstruck with an idea of the Ridiculous from it; but if he should see thesame figure descend from his coach and six, or bolt from his chair withhis hat under his arm, he would then begin to laugh, and with justice.In the same manner, were we to enter a poor house and behold a wretchedfamily shivering with cold and languishing with hunger, it would notincline us to laughter (at least we must have very diabolical natures ifit would); but should we discover there a grate, instead of coals,adorned with flowers, empty plate or china dishes on the sideboard, orany other affectation of riches and finery, either on their persons orin their furniture, we might then indeed be excused for ridiculing sofantastical an appearance. Much less are natural imperfections theobject of derision; but when ugliness aims at the applause of beauty, orlameness endeavours to display agility, it is then that theseunfortunate circumstances, which at first moved our compassion, tendonly to raise our mirth.
The poet carries this very far:--
None are for being what they are in fault, But for not being what they would be thought.
Where if the metre would suffer the word Ridiculous to close the firstline, the thought would be rather more proper. Great vices are theproper objects of our detestation, smaller faults, of our pity; butaffectation appears to me the only true source of the Ridiculous.
But perhaps it may be objected to me, that I have against my own rulesintroduced vices, and of a very black kind, into this work. To which Ishall answer: first, that it is very difficult to pursue a series ofhuman actions, and keep clear from them. Secondly, that the vices to befound here are rather the accidental consequences of some human frailtyor foible, than causes habitually existing in the mind. Thirdly, thatthey are never set forth as the objects of ridicule, but detestation.Fourthly, that they are never the principal figure at that time on thescene: and, lastly, they never produce the intended evil.
Having thus distinguished Joseph Andrews from the productions of romancewriters on the one hand and burlesque writers on the other, and givensome few very short hints (for I intended no more) of this species ofwriting, which I have affirmed to be hitherto unattempted in ourlanguage; I shall leave to my good-natured reader to apply my piece tomy observations, and will detain him no longer than with a wordconcerning the characters in this work.
And here I solemnly protest I have no intention to vilify or asperse anyone; for though everything is copied from the book of nature, and scarcea character or action produced which I have not taken from my I ownobservations and experience; yet I have used the utmost care to obscurethe persons by such different circumstances, degrees, and colours, thatit will be impossible to guess at them with any degree of certainty; andif it ever happens otherwise, it is only where the failure characterizedis so minute, that it is a foible only which the party himself may laughat as well as any other.
As to the character of Adams, as it is the most glaring in the whole, soI conceive it is not to be found in any book now extant. It is designeda character of perfect simplicity; and as the goodness of his heartwill recommend him to the good-natured, so I hope it will excuse me tothe gentlemen of his cloth; for whom, while they are worthy of theirsacred order, no man can possibly have a greater respect. They willtherefore excuse me, notwithstanding the low adventures in which he isengaged, that I have made him a clergyman; since no other office couldhave given him so many opportunities of displaying his worthyinclinations.
THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURES OF JOSEPH ANDREWS AND HIS FRIEND MRABRAHAM ADAMS
BOOK I.
Joseph Andrews, Vol. 1 Page 4
