ned the sale of his Aristophanes. This ingenious invention of
the prefacer of Aristophanes at length was detected by Menage.

The insincerity of prefaces arises whenever an author would disguise his
solicitude for his work, by appearing negligent, and even undesirous of
its success. A writer will rarely conclude such a preface without
betraying himself. I think that even Dr. Johnson forgot his sound
dialectic in the admirable Preface to his Dictionary. In one part he says,
"having laboured this work with so much application, I cannot but have
some degree of parental fondness." But in his conclusion he tells us, "I
dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from
censure or from praise." I deny the doctor's "frigidity." This polished
period exhibits an affected stoicism, which no writer ever felt for the
anxious labour of a great portion of life, addressed not merely to a class
of readers, but to literary Europe.

But if prefaces are rarely sincere or just, they are, notwithstanding,
literary opuscula in which the author is materially concerned. A work
with a poor preface, like a person who comes with an indifferent
recommendation, must display uncommon merit to master our prejudices, and
to please us, as it were, in spite of ourselves. Works ornamented by a
finished preface, such as Johnson not infrequently presented to his
friends or his booksellers, inspire us with awe; we observe a veteran
guard placed in the porch, and we are induced to conclude from this
appearance that some person of eminence resides in the place itself.

The public are treated with contempt when an author professes to publish
his puerilities. This Warburton did, in his pompous edition of Shakspeare.
In the preface he informed the public, that his notes "were among his
_younger amusements,_ when he turned over these _sort of writers._" This
ungracious compliment to Shakspeare and the public, merited that perfect
scourging which our haughty commentator received from the sarcastic
"Canons of Criticism."[A] Scudery was a writer of some genius, and great
variety. His prefaces are remarkable for their gasconades. In his epic
poem of Alaric, he says, "I have such a facility in writing verses, and
also in my invention, that a poem of double its length would have cost me
little trouble. Although it contains only eleven thousand lines, I believe
that longer epics do not exhibit more embellishments than mine." And to
conclude with on