The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book II, Chapter I

CHAPTER I.

_Of Divisions in Authors_.

There are certain mysteries or secrets in all trades, from the highest

to the lowest, from that of prime-ministering to this of authoring,

which are seldom discovered unless to members of the same calling. Among

those used by us gentlemen of the latter occupation, I take this of

dividing our works into books and chapters to be none of the least

considerable. Now, for want of being truly acquainted with this secret,

common readers imagine, that by this art of dividing we mean only to

swell our works to a much larger bulk than they would otherwise be

extended to. These several places therefore in our paper, which are

filled 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 sum

total, 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 other

instances we consult the advantage of our reader, not our own; and

indeed, many notable uses arise to him from this method; for, first,

those little spaces between our chapters may be looked upon as an inn or

resting-place where he may stop and take a glass or any other

refreshment as it pleases him. Nay, our fine readers will, perhaps, be

scarce able to travel farther than through one of them in a day. As to

those vacant pages which are placed between our books, they are to be

regarded as those stages where in long journies the traveller stays some

time to repose himself, and consider of what he hath seen in the parts

he hath already passed through; a consideration which I take the liberty

to recommend a little to the reader; for, however swift his capacity may

be, I would not advise him to travel through these pages too fast; for

if he doth, he may probably miss the seeing some curious productions of

nature, which will be observed by the slower and more accurate reader. A

volume without any such places of rest resembles the opening of wilds or

seas, which tires the eye and fatigues the spirit when entered upon.

Secondly, what are the contents prefixed to every chapter but so many

inscriptions over the gates of inns (to continue the same metaphor),

informing the reader what entertainment he is to expect, which if he

likes not, he may travel on to the next; for, in biography, as we are

not tied down to an exact concatenation equally with other historians,

so a chapter or two (for instance, this I am now writing) may be often

passed over without any injury to the whole. And in these inscriptions I

have been as faithful as possible, not imitating the celebrated

Montaigne, who promises you one thing and gives you another; nor some

title-page authors, who promise a great deal and produce nothing at all.

There are, besides these more obvious benefits, several others which our

readers enjoy from this art of dividing; though perhaps most of them too

mysterious to be presently understood by any who are not initiated into

the science of authoring. To mention, therefore, but one which is most

obvious, it prevents spoiling the beauty of a book by turning down its

leaves, a method otherwise necessary to those readers who (though they

read with great improvement and advantage) are apt, when they return to

their study after half-an-hour's absence, to forget where they left off.

These divisions have the sanction of great antiquity. Homer not only

divided his great work into twenty-four books (in compliment perhaps to

the twenty-four letters to which he had very particular obligations),

but, according to the opinion of some very sagacious critics, hawked

them all separately, delivering only one book at a time (probably by

subscription). He was the first inventor of the art which hath so long

lain dormant, of publishing by numbers; an art now brought to such

perfection, that even dictionaries are divided and exhibited piecemeal

to the public; nay, one bookseller hath (to encourage learning and ease

the public) contrived to give them a dictionary in this divided manner

for only fifteen shillings more than it would have cost entire.

Virgil hath given us his poem in twelve books, an argument of his

modesty; for by that, doubtless, he would insinuate that he pretends to

no more than half the merit of the Greek; for the same reason, our

Milton went originally no farther than ten; till, being puffed up by the

praise of his friends, he put himself on the same footing with the

Roman poet.

I shall not, however, enter so deep into this matter as some very

learned criticks have done; who have with infinite labour and acute

discernment discovered what books are proper for embellishment, and what

require simplicity only, particularly with regard to similes, which I

think are now generally agreed to become any book but the first.

I will dismiss this chapter with the following observation: that it

becomes an author generally to divide a book, as it does a butcher to

joint his meat, for such assistance is of great help to both the reader

and the carver. And now, having indulged myself a little, I will

endeavour to indulge the curiosity of my reader, who is no doubt

impatient to know what he will find in the subsequent chapters of

this book.