If you are a Man, make the first Overtures: Remember, it is the Man’s Part to address the Fair; and it will be her’s to be tenderly won.
Be bold then, and put the Question; she desires no more than to have the Question put; and sure you will not deny your own Wishes that Favour.
Jupiter himself went a courting to the Heroines of old: For I never heard of any Girl who courted him.
But if you find Madam gives herself any immoderate Airs at your Proposal, it will then be good to recede a little from your Undertaking, and to affect to sheer off: For many of them, according to the Poet,
Pursue what flies, and fly what doth pursue.
A short Absence will soon cure her Disdain.
It may be proper likewise to conceal your intentions a little at first, and make your first Advance under the Pretence of Platonic Friendship.
I have known many a Prude taken under these false Colours; and the Platonic Friend hath soon become a happy Lover.
And now as to your Complexion; for believe me, this is a Matter of some Consequence: Though I would not have you effeminate, yet I would have you delicate.
A fair Complexion in a Tar is scandalous, and looks more like a Borough Captain or one of those fresh-water Sailors, who have so much dishonoured our Navy. The Skin of a Seaman ought to be rough, and well battered with Winds and Waves.
Such likewise ought to be the Face of a Fox-hunter, who ought not to fear Rain or Easterly Winds: And the fame becomes the Soldier.
But let the Soldier of Venus look fair and delicate; nay, if your Complexion inclines to Paleness, so much the better; for this will be imputed by every young Girl to Love.
Young Orion with a pale Countenance wandered through the Groves, being sick with the Love of Lyrice: And the same Effect had the Love of Naïs upon the Countenance of Daphnis; two Lovers very famous in Antiquity.
Leanness is another Token of a Lover; to obtain which, you need not take Physick; sitting up all Night; and writing Love-Letters, will bring this about.
Be sure to look as miserable as possible; so that every one who sees you, may cry, There goes a Lover.
And here shall I lament the Wickedness of Mankind, or only simply observe it to you? But in Reality all Friendship and Integrity are nothing more than Names.
Alas! It is dangerous to be too prodigal in the Praises of your Mistress, even to your Friend; for if he believes you, he becomes your Rival.
It is true there are some old Stories of faithful Friends: Patroclus never made a Cuckold of Achilles; and Phaedra’s Chastity was never attempted by Pirithous.
Pylades loved Hermions, who was his Friend’s Wife; but it was with the pure Love of a Brother: And the same Fidelity did Castor preserve towards his Twin-Brother Pollux.
But if you expect to find such Instances in these degenerate Days, you may as well have Faith enough to expect a Pine-Apple from a Pear-Tree, or to hope to fill your Bottle with Burgundy from the River.
I am afraid we are grown so bad, that Iniquity itself gives a Relish to our Pleasures; and every Man is not only addicted to his Pleasures, but those are the sweeter, when season’d with another’s Pain.
It is in short a terrible Case, that a Lover ought to fear his Friend more than his Enemy. Beware of the former, and you are safe.
Beware of your Cousin, and your Brother, and your dear and intimate Companions. These are the Sort of Gentry, from whom you are to apprehend most Danger.
Here I intended to have finished; but one Rule more suggests itself.
You are to note then, that there is a great Variety in the Tempers of Women; for a thousand different Women are to be wooed a thousand different Ways.
Mr. Miller will tell you, that the same kind of Soil is not proper for all Fruits. One produces good Carrots, another Potatoes, and a third Turneps. Now there is as great a Variety of Disposition in the human Mind, as there are Forms in the World: For which Reason a Politician is capable of accommodating himself to innumerable Kinds of Tempers: Not Proteus could indeed diversify himself more Ways than he can.
Nay you may learn this Lesson from every Fisherman; for some Fish are to be taken with one Bait, and some with another; others will scarce bite at any, but are however to be drawn out of the Water by a Net.
One good Caution under this Head, is to consider the Age of your Mistress: Old Birds are not taken with Chaff; and an old Hare will be sure to double.
Again, consider Circumstances. Do not frighten an ignorant Woman with Learning, nor a poor Country Girl with your fine Cloathes; for by these Means you will create in them too great an Awe of you. Many a Girl hath run away frighted from the Embraces of the Master, and afterwards fallen into the Clutches of his Footman.
And here we will now cast our Anchor, having finished the first Part of our intended Voyage.
FINIS
LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDE R
THE MASQUERADE
OF TRUE GREATNESS
OF GOOD NATURE TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF RICHMOND
LIBERTY
TO A FRIEND ON THE CHOICE OF A WIFE
TO JOHN HAYES ESQ.
A DESCRIPTION OF U — N G — (ALIAS NEW HOG’S NORTON), IN COM. HANTS.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (NOW EARL OF OXFORD)
TO THE SAME. ANNO 1731
WRITTEN EXTEMPORE ON A HALFPENNY
THE BEGGAR
AN EPIGRAM
THE QUESTION
N-W-T-S AT A PLAY
TO CELIA
ON A LADY COQUETTING WITH A VERY SILLY FELLOW
ON THE SAME
EPITAPH ON BUTLER’S MONUMENT
ANOTHER ON A WICKED FELLOW, WHO WAS A GREAT BLUNDERER
EPIGRAM ON ONE WHO INVITED MANY GENTLEMEN TO A SMALL DINNER
A SAILOR’S SONG
ADVICE TO THE NYMPHS OF NEW S — M
TO CELIA
TO THE SAME ON HER WISHING TO HAVE A LILIPUTIAN TO PLAY WITH
SIMILES
THE PRICE
HER CHRISTIAN NAME
TO THE SAME
AN EPIGRAM
ANOTHER EPIGRAM
TO THE MASTER OF THE SALISBURY ASSEMBLY
THE CAT AND FIDDLE
A PARODY
A SIMILE
TO EUTHALIA
PART OF JUVENAL’S SIXTH SATIRE
TO MISS H — AND AT BATH
PLAIN TRUTH
THE LOVERS ASSISTANT, OR, NEW ART OF LOVE
LIST OF POEMS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDE R
A DESCRIPTION OF U — N G — (ALIAS NEW HOG’S NORTON), IN COM. HANTS.
A PARODY
A SAILOR’S SONG
A SIMILE
ADVICE TO THE NYMPHS OF NEW S — M
AN EPIGRAM
AN EPIGRAM
ANOTHER EPIGRAM
ANOTHER ON A WICKED FELLOW, WHO WAS A GREAT BLUNDERER
EPIGRAM ON ONE WHO INVITED MANY GENTLEMEN TO A SMALL DINNER
EPITAPH ON BUTLER’S MONUMENT
HER CHRISTIAN NAME
LIBERTY
N-W-T-S AT A PLAY
OF GOOD NATURE TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF RICHMOND
OF TRUE GREATNESS
ON A LADY COQUETTING WITH A VERY SILLY FELLOW
ON THE SAME
PART OF JUVENAL’S SIXTH SATIRE
PLAIN TRUTH
SIMILES
THE BEGGAR
THE CAT AND FIDDLE
THE LOVERS ASSISTANT, OR, NEW ART OF LOVE
THE MASQUERADE
THE PRICE
THE QUESTION
TO A FRIEND ON THE CHOICE OF A WIFE
TO CELIA
TO CELIA
TO EUTHALIA
TO JOHN HAYES ESQ.
TO MISS H — AND AT BATH
TO THE MASTER OF THE SALISBURY ASSEMBLY
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (NOW EARL OF OXFORD)
TO THE SAME
TO THE SAME ON HER WISHING TO HAVE A LILIPUTIAN TO PLAY WITH
TO THE SAME. ANNO 1731
> WRITTEN EXTEMPORE ON A HALFPENNY
The Non-Fictio n
Milbourne House, Barnes Green, south-west London — Fielding’s home in later years
THE JOURNAL OF A VOYAGE TO LISBO N
CONTENTS
DEDICATION TO THE PUBLIC
INTRODUCTION
THE VOYAGE
DEDICATION TO THE PUBLIC
Your candor is desired on the perusal of the following sheets, as they are the product of a genius that has long been your delight and entertainment. It must be acknowledged that a lamp almost burnt out does not give so steady and uniform a light as when it blazes in its full vigor; but yet it is well known that by its wavering, as if struggling against its own dissolution, it sometimes darts a ray as bright as ever. In like manner, a strong and lively genius will, in its last struggles, sometimes mount aloft, and throw forth the most striking marks of its original luster.
Wherever these are to be found, do you, the genuine patrons of extraordinary capacities, be as liberal in your applauses of him who is now no more as you were of him whilst he was yet amongst you. And, on the other hand, if in this little work there should appear any traces of a weakened and decayed life, let your own imaginations place before your eyes a true picture in that of a hand trembling in almost its latest hour, of a body emaciated with pains, yet struggling for your entertainment; and let this affecting picture open each tender heart, and call forth a melting tear, to blot out whatever failings may be found in a work begun in pain, and finished almost at the same period with life. It was thought proper by the friends of the deceased that this little piece should come into your hands as it came from the hands of the author, it being judged that you would be better pleased to have an opportunity of observing the faintest traces of a genius you have long admired, than have it patched by a different hand, by which means the marks of its true author might have been effaced. That the success of the last written, though first published, volume of the author’s posthumous pieces may be attended with some convenience to those innocents he hath left behind, will no doubt be a motive to encourage its circulation through the kingdom, which will engage every future genius to exert itself for your pleasure. The principles and spirit which breathe in every line of the small fragment begun in answer to Lord Bolingbroke will unquestionably be a sufficient apology for its publication, although vital strength was wanting to finish a work so happily begun and so well designed. PREFACE THERE would not, perhaps, be a more pleasant or profitable study, among those which have their principal end in amusement, than that of travels or voyages, if they were wrote as they might be and ought to be, with a joint view to the entertainment and information of mankind. If the conversation of travelers be so eagerly sought after as it is, we may believe their books will be still more agreeable company, as they will in general be more instructive and more entertaining. But when I say the conversation of travelers is usually so welcome, I must be understood to mean that only of such as have had good sense enough to apply their peregrinations to a proper use, so as to acquire from them a real and valuable knowledge of men and things, both which are best known by comparison. If the customs and manners of men were everywhere the same, there would be no office so dull as that of a traveler, for the difference of hills, valleys, rivers, in short, the various views of which we may see the face of the earth, would scarce afford him a pleasure worthy of his labor; and surely it would give him very little opportunity of communicating any kind of entertainment or improvement to others.
To make a traveler an agreeable companion to a man of sense, it is necessary, not only that he should have seen much, but that he should have overlooked much of what he hath seen. Nature is not, any more than a great genius, always admirable in her productions, and therefore the traveler, who may be called her commentator, should not expect to find everywhere subjects worthy of his notice. It is certain, indeed, that one may be guilty of omission, as well as of the opposite extreme; but a fault on that side will be more easily pardoned, as it is better to be hungry than surfeited; and to miss your dessert at the table of a man whose gardens abound with the choicest fruits, than to have your taste affronted with every sort of trash that can be picked up at the green-stall or the wheel-barrow. If we should carry on the analogy between the traveler and the commentator, it is impossible to keep one’s eye a moment off from the laborious much-read doctor Zachary Gray, of whose redundant notes on Hudibras I shall only say that it is, I am confident, the single book extant in which above five hundred authors are quoted, not one of which could be found in the collection of the late doctor Mead.
As there are few things which a traveler is to record, there are fewer on which he is to offer his observations: this is the office of the reader; and it is so pleasant a one, that he seldom chooses to have it taken from him, under the pretense of lending him assistance. Some occasions, indeed, there are, when proper observations are pertinent, and others when they are necessary; but good sense alone must point them out. I shall lay down only one general rule; which I believe to be of universal truth between relator and hearer, as it is between author and reader; this is, that the latter never forgive any observation of the former which doth not convey some knowledge that they are sensible they could not possibly have attained of themselves.
But all his pains in collecting knowledge, all his judgment in selecting, and all his art in communicating it, will not suffice, unless he can make himself, in some degree, an agreeable as well as an instructive companion. The highest instruction we can derive from the tedious tale of a dull fellow scarce ever pays us for our attention. There is nothing, I think, half so valuable as knowledge, and yet there is nothing which men will give themselves so little trouble to attain; unless it be, perhaps, that lowest degree of it which is the object of curiosity, and which hath therefore that active passion constantly employed in its service. This, indeed, it is in the power of every traveler to gratify; but it is the leading principle in weak minds only.
To render his relation agreeable to the man of sense, it is therefore necessary that the voyager should possess several eminent and rare talents; so rare indeed, that it is almost wonderful to see them ever united in the same person. And if all these talents must concur in the relator, they are certainly in a more eminent degree necessary to the writer; for here the narration admits of higher ornaments of style, and every fact and sentiment offers itself to the fullest and most deliberate examination. It would appear, therefore, I think, somewhat strange if such writers as these should be found extremely common; since nature hath been a most parsimonious distributor of her richest talents, and hath seldom bestowed many on the same person. But, on the other hand, why there should scarce exist a single writer of this kind worthy our regard; and, whilst there is no other branch of history (for this is history) which hath not exercised the greatest pens, why this alone should be overlooked by all men of great genius and erudition, and delivered up to the Goths and Vandals as their lawful property, is altogether as difficult to determine. And yet that this is the case, with some very few exceptions, is most manifest. Of these I shall willingly admit Burnet and Addison; if the former was not, perhaps, to be considered as a political essayist, and the latter as a commentator on the classics, rather than as a writer of travels; which last title, perhaps, they would both of them have been least ambitious to affect. Indeed, if these two and two or three more should be removed from the mass, there would remain such a heap of dullness behind, that the appellation of voyage-writer would not appear very desirable. I am not here unapprised that old Homer himself is by some considered as a voyage-writer; and, indeed, the beginning of his Odyssey may be urged to countenance that opinion, which I shall not controvert. But, whatever species of writing the Odyssey is of, it is surely at the head of that species, as much as the Iliad is of another; and so far the excellent Longinus would allow, I believe, at this day.
But, in reality, the Odyssey, the Telemachus, and all of that kind, are to the voyage-writing I here intend, what
romance is to true history, the former being the confounder and corrupter of the latter. I am far from supposing that Homer, Hesiod, and the other ancient poets and mythologists, had any settled design to pervert and confuse the records of antiquity; but it is certain they have effected it; and for my part I must confess I should have honored and loved Homer more had he written a true history of his own times in humble prose, than those noble poems that have so justly collected the praise of all ages; for, though I read these with more admiration and astonishment, I still read Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon with more amusement and more satisfaction. The original poets were not, however, without excuse. They found the limits of nature too straight for the immensity of their genius, which they had not room to exert without extending fact by fiction: and that especially at a time when the manners of men were too simple to afford that variety which they have since offered in vain to the choice of the meanest writers. In doing this they are again excusable for the manner in which they have done it.
Ut speciosa dehine miracula promant.
They are not, indeed, so properly said to turn reality into fiction, as fiction into reality. Their paintings are so bold, their colors so strong, that everything they touch seems to exist in the very manner they represent it; their portraits are so just, and their landscapes so beautiful, that we acknowledge the strokes of nature in both, without inquiring whether Nature herself, or her journeyman the poet, formed the first pattern of the piece. But other writers (I will put Pliny at their head) have no such pretensions to indulgence; they lie for lying sake, or in order insolently to impose the most monstrous improbabilities and absurdities upon their readers on their own authority; treating them as some fathers treat children, and as other fathers do laymen, exacting their belief of whatever they relate, on no other foundation than their own authority, without ever taking the pains or adapting their lies to human credulity, and of calculating them for the meridian of a common understanding; but, with as much weakness as wickedness, and with more impudence often than either, they assert facts contrary to the honor of God, to the visible order of the creation, to the known laws of nature, to the histories of former ages, and to the experience of our own, and which no man can at once understand and believe. If it should be objected (and it can nowhere be objected better than where I now write, 12 as there is nowhere more pomp of bigotry) that whole nations have been firm believers in such most absurd suppositions, I reply, the fact is not true. They have known nothing of the matter, and have believed they knew not what. It is, indeed, with me no matter of doubt but that the pope and his clergy might teach any of those Christian heterodoxies, the tenets of which are the most diametrically opposite to their own; nay, all the doctrines of Zoroaster, Confucius, and Mahomet, not only with certain and immediate success, but without one Catholic in a thousand knowing he had changed his religion.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 382
