to employ all that will desire to remember them;
and surely he that is pushing his predecessors into the gulph of
obscurity, cannot but sometimes suspect, that he must himself sink in
like manner, and, as he stands upon the same precipice, be swept away
with the same violence.
It sometimes happens, that fame begins when life is at an end; but far
the greater number of candidates for applause have owed their reception
in the world to some favourable casualties, and have therefore
immediately sunk into neglect, when death stripped them of their casual
influence, and neither fortune nor patronage operated in their favour.
Among those who have better claims to regard, the honour paid to their
memory is commonly proportionate to the reputation which they enjoyed in
their lives, though still growing fainter, as it is at a greater
distance from the first emission; and since it is so difficult to obtain
the notice of contemporaries, how little is to be hoped from future
times? What can merit effect by its own force, when the help of art or
friendship can scarcely support it?
No. 147. TUESDAY, AUGUST 13, 1751.
Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva. Hon. Ar. Poet. 385.
--You are of too quick a sight,
Not to discern which way your talent lies. ROSCOMMON.
TO THE RAMBLER.
SIR,
As little things grow great by continual accumulation, I hope you will
not think the dignity of your character impaired by an account of a
ludicrous persecution, which, though it produced no scenes of horrour or
of ruin, yet, by incessant importunity of vexation, wears away my
happiness, and consumes those years which nature seems particularly to
have assigned to cheerfulness, in silent anxiety and helpless
resentment.
I am the eldest son of a gentleman, who having inherited a large estate
from his ancestors, and feeling no desire either to increase or lessen
it, has from the time of his marriage generally resided at his own seat;
where, by dividing his time among the duties of a father, a master, and
a magistrate, the study of literature, and the offices of civility, he
finds means to rid himself of the day, without any of those amusements,
which all those with whom my residence in this place has made me
acquainted, think necessary to lighten the burthen of existence.
When my age made me capable of instruction, my father prevailed upon a
gentleman, long known at Oxford for the extent of his learning and the
purity of his manne
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