Journal of A Voyage to Lisbon | Page 5

Patriot seems to me to be Parson Adams'
letter describing his adventure with a young "bowe" of his day; and this
I select, together with one or two numbers of the Covent Garden
Journal. I have not found in this latter anything more characteristic than
Murphy's selection, though Mr. Dobson, with his unfailing kindness,
lent me an original and unusually complete set of the Journal itself.
It is to the same kindness that I owe the opportunity of presenting the
reader with something indisputably Fielding's and very characteristic of
him, which Murphy did not print, and which has not, so far as I know,
ever appeared either in a collection or a selection of Fielding's work.
After the success of David Simple, Fielding gave his sister, for whom
he had already written a preface to that novel, another preface for a set
of Familiar Letters between the characters of David Simple and others.
This preface Murphy reprinted; but he either did not notice, or did not
choose to attend to, a note towards the end of the book attributing
certain of the letters to the author of the preface, the attribution being
accompanied by an agreeably warm and sisterly denunciation of those
who ascribed to Fielding matter unworthy of him. From these the letter
which I have chosen, describing a row on the Thames, seems to me not
only characteristic, but, like all this miscellaneous work, interesting no
less for its weakness than for its strength. In hardly any other instance
known to me can we trace so clearly the influence of a suitable medium
and form on the genius of the artist. There are some writers--Dryden is
perhaps the greatest of them--to whom form and medium seem almost
indifferent, their all-round craftsmanship being such that they can turn
any kind and every style to their purpose. There are others, of whom I
think our present author is the chief, who are never really at home but
in one kind. In Fielding's case that kind was narrative of a peculiar sort,

half-sentimental, half-satirical, and almost wholly
sympathetic--narrative which has the singular gift of portraying the
liveliest character and yet of admitting the widest disgression and
soliloquy.
Until comparatively late in his too short life, when he found this special
path of his (and it is impossible to say whether the actual finding was in
the case of Jonathan or in the case of Joseph), he did but flounder and
slip. When he had found it, and was content to walk in it, he strode with
as sure and steady a step as any other, even the greatest, of those who
carry and hand on the torch of literature through the ages. But it is
impossible to derive full satisfaction from his feats in this part of the
race without some notion of his performances elsewhere; and I believe
that such a notion will be supplied to the readers of his novels by the
following volumes, in a very large number of cases, for the first time.

THE JOURNAL OF A VOYAGE TO LISBON
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