No. 84. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24,

B

1759.

MIOGRAPHY is, of the various kinds of narrative writing, that which is most eagerly read, and most easily applied to the purpose of life.1

In romances, when the wild field of possibility lies open to invention, the incidents may easily be made more numerous, the vicissitudes more sudden, and the events more wonderful; but from the time of life when fancy begins to be overruled by reason and corrected by experience, the most artful tale raises little curiosity when it is known to be false2; but though it may, perhaps, be sometimes read as a model of a neat or elegant style, not for the sake of knowing what it contains, but how it is written; or those that are weary of themselves, may have recourse to it as a pleasing dream, of which, when they awake, they voluntarily dismiss the images from their minds.

The examples and events of history press, indeed, upon the mind with the weight of truth, 1 See ante, Rambler, No. 60.

2 "It is somewhere recorded of a retired citizen that he was in the habit of again and again perusing Robinson Crusoe without a suspicion of its authenticity. At length a friend assured him of its being a work of fiction. 'What you say,

replied the old man mournfully, 'may be true, but your information has taken away the only comfort of my age.'"-Johnson's Works, iv. 398, note by the Editor.

but when they are reposited in the memory, they are oftener employed for shew than use, and rather diversify conversation1 than regulate life. Few are engaged in such scenes as give them opportunities of growing wiser by the downfall of statesmen or the defeat of generals. The stratagems of war, and the intrigues of courts, are read by far the greater part of mankind with the same indifference as the adventures of fabled heroes, or the revolutions of a fairy region. Between falsehood and useless truth there is little difference. As gold which he cannot spend will make no man rich, so knowledge which he cannot apply will

make no man wise.

are

The mischievous consequences of vice and folly, of irregular desires and predominant passions, are best discovered by those relations which levelled with the general surface of life, which tell not how any man became great, but how he was made happy; not how he lost the favour of his prince, but how he became discontented with himself.

Those relations are therefore commonly of most value in which the writer tells his own story. He that recounts the life of another, commonly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the familiarity of his tale to increase its dignity, shews his

1 Johnson in practice did not admit that it diversified conversation. "Sooner than hear of the Punic War he would be rude to the person that introduced the subject."-Boswell's Johnson, iii., 206, note 1.

2 Boswell refers to this passage in the beginning of his Life of Johnson.

favourite at a distance, decorated and magnified like the ancient actors in their tragic dress, and endeavours to hide the man that he may produce a hero.

But if it be true, which was said by a French prince, That no man was a hero to the servants of his chamber, it is equally true, that every man is yet less a hero to himself. He that is most elevated above the crowd by the importance of his employments, or the reputation of his genius, feels himself affected by fame or business but as they influence his domestic life. The high and low, as they have the same faculties and the same senses, have no less similitude in their pains and pleasures. The sensations are the same in all, though produced by very different occasions. The prince feels the same pain when an invader seizes a province, as the farmer when a thief drives away his Men thus equal in themselves will appear equal in honest and impartial biography;

cow.

1 "This phrase is commonly attributed to Mme. de Sévigné, but on the authority of Mme. Aisse belongs to Mme. Cornuel. Few men are admired by their servants.'-Montaigne, Essays, Bk. iii., chap. 11." Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, ed. 1888, p. 630. Carlyle remarks on this saying: -"It is not the Hero's blame, but the Valet's; that his soul, namely, is a mean valet-soul. He expects his Hero to advance in royal stage-trappings, with measured step, trains borne behind him, trumpets sounding before him. It should stand rather, No man can be a Grand-Monarque to his valet-de-chambre."-Lectures on Heroes, ed. 1858, p. 322.

2 "Shakespeare added drunkenness to the other qualities of the Danish usurper, knowing that kings love wine like other men, and that wine exerts its natural power upon kings."-Johnson's Works, v. 109.

and those whom fortune or nature place at the greatest distance may afford instruction to each other.

The writer of his own life has at least the first qualification of an historian, the knowledge of the truth; and though it may be plausibly objected that his temptations to disguise it are equal to his opportunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that impartiality may be expected with equal confidence from him that relates the passages of his own life, as from him that delivers the transactions of another.

Certainty of knowledge not only excludes mistake, but fortifies veracity. What we collect by conjecture, and by conjecture only can one man judge of another's motives or sentiments, is easily modified by fancy or by desire; as objects imperfectly discerned take forms from the hope or fear of the beholder. But that which is fully known cannot be falsified but with reluctance of understanding, and alarm of conscience : of understanding, the lover of truth; of conscience, the sentinel of virtue.

He that writes the life of another is either his friend or his enemy, and wishes either to exalt his praise or aggravate his infamy ; many temptations to falsehood will occur in the disguise of passions, too specious to fear much resistance. Love of virtue will animate panegyric, and hatred of wickedness imbitter censure. The zeal of gratitude, the ardour of patriotism, fondness for an opinion, or fidelity to a party, may easily overpower the vigilance of a mind habitually well

disposed, and prevail over unassisted and unfriended veracity.

But he that speaks of himself has no motive to falsehood or partiality except self-love, by which all have so often been betrayed, that all are on the watch against its artifices. He that writes an apology for a single action, to confute an accusation, to recommend himself to favour, is indeed always to be suspected of favouring his own cause; but he that sits down calmly and voluntarily to review his life for the admonition of posterity, or to amuse himself, and leaves this account unpublished, may be commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood cannot appease his own mind, and fame will not be heard beneath the tomb.