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Those who attempt periodical essays seem to be often stopped in the beginning, by the difficulty of finding a proper title. Two writers, since the time of the Spectator, have assumed his name, without any pretensions to lawful inheritance ; an effort was once made to revive the Tatler; and the strange appellations by which other papers have been called, show that the authors were distressed like the natives of America, who come to the Europeans to beg a name. It will be easily believed of the Idler, that if his title had required any search, he never would have found it. Every mode of life has its conveniences. The Idler, who habituates himself to be satisfied with what he can most easily obtain, not only escapes labours which are often fruitless, but sometimes succeeds bet

* Originally published in “ The Universal Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette,” a newspaper projected by Mr. John Newbery. - C. WOL. VII. B

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ter than those who despise all that is within their reach,
and think every thing more valuable as it is harder to
be acquired.
If similitude of manners be a motive to kindness,
the Idler may flatter himself with universal patronage.
There is no single character under which such num-
bers are comprised. Every man is, or hopes to be, an
Idler. Even those who seem to differ most from us
are hastening to increase our fraternity; as peace is
the end of war, so to be idle is the ultimate purpose
of the busy.
There is perhaps no appellation by which a writer
can better denote his kindred to the human species. It
has been found hard to describe man by an adequate
definition. Some philosophers have called him a rea-
sonable animal; but others have considered reason as
a quality of which many creatures partake.” He has
been termed likewise a laughing animal; but it is said
that some men have never laughed. Perhaps man may
be more properly distinguished as an idle animal; for
there is no man who is not sometimes idle. It is at
least a definition from which none that shall find it in
this paper can be excepted; for who can be more idle
than the reader of the Idler?
That the definition may be complete, idleness must
be not only the general but the peculiar characteristics
of man; and perhaps man is the only being that can
properly be called idle, that does by others what he
is ght do himself, or sacrifices duty or pleasure to the
love of ease.
Scarcely any name can be imagined from which less
envy or competition is to be dreaded. The Idler has
no rivals or enemies. The man of business forgets

him; the man of enterprise despises him; and though such as tread the same track of life fall commonly into jealousy and discord, Idlers are always found to associate in peace; and he who is most famed for doing nothing, is glad to meet another as idle as himself. What is to be expected from this paper, whether it will be uniform or various, learned or familiar, serious or gay, political or moral, continued or interrupted, it is hoped that no reader will enquire. That the Idler has some scheme, cannot be doubted; for to form schemes is the Idler's privilege. But though he has many projects in his head, he is now grown sparing of communication, having observed, that his hearers are apt to remember what he forgets himself; that his tardiness of execution exposes him, to the encroachments of those who catch a hint and fall to work; and that very specious plans, after long contrivance and pompous displays, have subsided in weariness without a trial, and without miscarriage have been blasted by derision. Something the Idler's character may be supposed to promise. Those that are curious after diminutive history, who watch the revolutions of families, and the rise and fall of characters either male or female, will hope to be gratified by this paper; for the Idler is always inquisitive and seldom retentive. He that delights in obloquy and satire, and wishes to see clouds gathering over any reputation that dazzles him with its brightness, will snatch up the Idler's essays with a beating heart. The Idler is naturally censorious; those who attempt nothing themselves think every thing easily performed, and consider the unsuccessful always as criminal.

I think it necessary to give notice, that I make no contract, nor incur any obligation. If those who depend on the Idler for intelligence and entertainment should suffer the disappointment which commonly follows ill-placed expectations, they are to lay the blame only to themselves.

Yet hope is not wholly to be cast away. The Idler, though sluggish, is yet alive, and may sometimes be stimulated to vigour and activity. He may descend into profoundness, or tower into sublimity; for the diligence of an Idler is rapid and impetuous, as ponderous bodies forced into velocity move with violence proportionate to their weight.

But these vehement exertions of intellect cannot be frequent, and he will' therefore gladly receive help from any correspondent who shall enable him to please without his own labour. He excludes no style, he prohibits no subject; only let him that writes to the Idler

remember, that his letters must not be long; no words

are to be squandered in declarations of esteem, or confessions of inability; conscious dullness has little right to be prolix, and praise is not so welcome to the Idler as quiet.

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MANY positions are often on the tongue, and seldom in the mind; there are many truths which every human being acknowledges and forgets. It is gene

rally known, that he who expects much will be often disappointed; yet disappointment seldom cures us of expectation, or has any other effect than that of producing a moral sentence or peevish exclamation. He that embarks in the voyage of life, will always wish to advance rather by the impulse of the wind than the strokes of the oar; and many founder in the passage, while they lie waiting for the gale that is to waft them to their wish. * It will naturally be suspected that the Idler has lately suffered some disappointment, and that he does not talk thus gravely for nothing. No man is required to betray his own secrets. I will, however, confess, that I have now been a writer for almost a week, and have not yet heard a single word of praise, nor received one hint from any correspondent. Whence this negligence proceeds I am not able to discover. Many of my predecessors have thought themselves obliged to return their acknowledgements in the second paper for the kind reception of the first; and, in a short time, apoligies have become necessary to those ingenious gentlemen and ladies, whose performances, though in the highest degree elegant and learned, have been unavoidably delayed. What then will be thought of me, who, having experienced no kindness, have no thanks to return; whom no gentleman or lady has yet enabled to give any cause of discontent, and who have therefore no opportunity of showing how skilfully I can pacify resentment, extenuate negligence, or palliate rejection? I have long known that splendour of reputation is not to be counted among the necessaries of life, and therefore shall not much repine if praise be withheld

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