My Life as an Author | Page 3

any of my
innumerable private letters to friends, or other MSS., unless they are
strictly and merely of a literary nature.
Biography, where honest and true, is no doubt one of the most
fascinating and instructive phases of literature; but it requires a higher
Intelligence than any (however intimate) friend of a man to do it fairly
and fully; so many matters of character and circumstance must ever be
to him unknown, and therefore will be by him unrecorded. And even as
to autobiography, who, short of the Omniscient Himself, can take into
just account the potency of outward surroundings, and still more of
inborn hereditary influences, over both mind and body? the bias to

good or evil, and the possession or otherwise of gifts and talents, due
very much (under Providence) to one's ancient ancestors and one's
modern teachers? We are each of us morally and bodily the psychical
and physical composite of a thousand generations. Albeit every
individual possesses as his birthright a freewill to turn either to the right
or to the left, and is liable to a due responsibility for his words and
actions, still the Just Judge alone can and must make allowance for the
innate inclinings of heredity and the outward influences of
circumstance, and He only can hold the balance between the guilt and
innocence, the merit or demerit, of His creature.
So far as my own will goes, I leave my inner spiritual biography to the
Recording Angel, choosing only to give some recollections and
memories of my outer literary life. For spiritual self-analysis in matters
of religion and affection I desire to be as silent as I can be; but in such a
book as this absolute taciturnity on such subjects is practically
impossible.
For the matter, then, of autobiography, I decline its higher and its
deeper aspects; as also I wish not to obtrude on the public eye mere
domesticities and privacies of life. But mainly lest others less
acquainted with the petty incidents of my career should hereafter take
up the task, I accede with all frankness and humility to what seems to
me like a present call to duty, having little time to spare at seventy-six,
so near the end of my tether,--and protesting, as I well may, against the
charge of selfish egotism in a book necessarily spotted on every page
with the insignificant letter I; and while, of course on human-nature
principles, willing enough to exhibit myself at the best, promising also
not to hide the second best, or worse than that, where I can perceive it.
That shrewd old philosopher, Benjamin Franklin, thus excuses his own
self-imposed task of "autobiography," and I cannot do better than quote
and adopt his wise and just remarks:--
"In thus employing myself, I shall yield to the inclination so natural to
old men, of talking of themselves and their own actions, and I shall
indulge it without being tiresome to those who, from respect to my age,
might conceive themselves obliged to listen to me, since they will

always be free to read me or not. And (I may as well confess it, as the
denial would be believed by nobody) I shall, perhaps, not a little gratify
my own vanity. Indeed, I never heard or saw the introductory words,
'Without vanity I may say,' &c., but some vain thing immediately
followed. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they
may have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter wherever I meet
with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the
possessor, and to others who are within his sphere of action; and
therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man
were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.
"And now I speak of thanking God, I desire, with all humility, to
acknowledge that I attribute the happiness of my past life to His divine
providence, which led me to the means I used, and gave the success.
My belief of this induces me to hope, though I must not presume, that
the same goodness will still be exercised towards me in continuing that
happiness or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse, which I may
experience as others have done; the complexion of my future fortune
being known to Him only in whose power it is to bless us, even in our
afflictions."
Thus speaketh the honest wisdom of Benjamin Franklin.
* * * * *
I do not see that a better plan can be chosen for carrying out the title of
this book than the one I have adopted, namely, tracing from the earliest
years to old age the author's literary lifework, illustrated by accounts of,
and specimens from, his various