Joseph Andrews, Vol. 1

by Henry Fielding

  CHAPTER I.

  _Of Divisions in Authors_.

  There are certain mysteries or secrets in all trades, from the highestto the lowest, from that of prime-ministering to this of authoring,which are seldom discovered unless to members of the same calling. Amongthose used by us gentlemen of the latter occupation, I take this ofdividing our works into books and chapters to be none of the leastconsiderable. Now, for want of being truly acquainted with this secret,common readers imagine, that by this art of dividing we mean only toswell our works to a much larger bulk than they would otherwise beextended to. These several places therefore in our paper, which arefilled with our books and chapters, are understood as so much buckram,stays, and stay-tape in a taylor's bill, serving only to make up the sumtotal, commonly found at the bottom of our first page and of his last.

  But in reality the case is otherwise, and in this as well as all otherinstances we consult the advantage of our reader, not our own; andindeed, many notable uses arise to him from this method; for, first,those little spaces between our chapters may be looked upon as an inn orresting-place where he may stop and take a glass or any otherrefreshment as it pleases him. Nay, our fine readers will, perhaps, bescarce able to travel farther than through one of them in a day. As tothose vacant pages which are placed between our books, they are to beregarded as those stages where in long journies the traveller stays sometime to repose himself, and consider of what he hath seen in the partshe hath already passed through; a consideration which I take the libertyto recommend a little to the reader; for, however swift his capacity maybe, I would not advise him to travel through these pages too fast; forif he doth, he may probably miss the seeing some curious productions ofnature, which will be observed by the slower and more accurate reader. Avolume without any such places of rest resembles the opening of wilds orseas, which tires the eye and fatigues the spirit when entered upon.

  Secondly, what are the contents prefixed to every chapter but so manyinscriptions over the gates of inns (to continue the same metaphor),informing the reader what entertainment he is to expect, which if helikes not, he may travel on to the next; for, in biography, as we arenot tied down to an exact concatenation equally with other historians,so a chapter or two (for instance, this I am now writing) may be oftenpassed over without any injury to the whole. And in these inscriptions Ihave been as faithful as possible, not imitating the celebratedMontaigne, who promises you one thing and gives you another; nor sometitle-page authors, who promise a great deal and produce nothing at all.

  There are, besides these more obvious benefits, several others which ourreaders enjoy from this art of dividing; though perhaps most of them toomysterious to be presently understood by any who are not initiated intothe science of authoring. To mention, therefore, but one which is mostobvious, it prevents spoiling the beauty of a book by turning down itsleaves, a method otherwise necessary to those readers who (though theyread with great improvement and advantage) are apt, when they return totheir study after half-an-hour's absence, to forget where they left off.

  These divisions have the sanction of great antiquity. Homer not onlydivided his great work into twenty-four books (in compliment perhaps tothe twenty-four letters to which he had very particular obligations),but, according to the opinion of some very sagacious critics, hawkedthem all separately, delivering only one book at a time (probably bysubscription). He was the first inventor of the art which hath so longlain dormant, of publishing by numbers; an art now brought to suchperfection, that even dictionaries are divided and exhibited piecemealto the public; nay, one bookseller hath (to encourage learning and easethe public) contrived to give them a dictionary in this divided mannerfor only fifteen shillings more than it would have cost entire.

  Virgil hath given us his poem in twelve books, an argument of hismodesty; for by that, doubtless, he would insinuate that he pretends tono more than half the merit of the Greek; for the same reason, ourMilton went originally no farther than ten; till, being puffed up by thepraise of his friends, he put himself on the same footing with theRoman poet.

  I shall not, however, enter so deep into this matter as some verylearned criticks have done; who have with infinite labour and acutediscernment discovered what books are proper for embellishment, and whatrequire simplicity only, particularly with regard to similes, which Ithink are now generally agreed to become any book but the first.

  I will dismiss this chapter with the following observation: that itbecomes an author generally to divide a book, as it does a butcher tojoint his meat, for such assistance is of great help to both the readerand the carver. And now, having indulged myself a little, I willendeavour to indulge the curiosity of my reader, who is no doubtimpatient to know what he will find in the subsequent chapters ofthis book.