“A question not to be asked,” said an odder person than I shall ever pretend to be, “is a question not to be answered.”
Nevertheless, gentle reader, in courtesy I will give sundry answers to your interrogation, and leave you to fix upon which of them you may think likely to be the true one.
The Author may be of opinion that his name, not being heretofore known to the public, could be of no advantage to his book.
Or, on the other hand, if his name were already well known, he might think the book stands in no need of it, and may safely be trusted to its own merits. He may wish to secure for it a fairer trial than it could otherwise obtain, and intend to profit by the unbiassed opinions which will thus reach his ear; thinking complacently with Benedict, that “happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.” In one of Metastasio's dramatic epithalamiums, Minerva says,
l'onore, a cui
Venni proposta anch' io
Piu meritar, che conseguir desio;
and he might say this with the Goddess of Wisdom.
He may be so circumstanced that it would be inconvenient as well as unpleasant for him to offend certain persons,—Sir Andrew Agnewites for example,—whose conscientious but very mischievous notions he nevertheless thinks it his duty to oppose, when he can do so consistently with discretion.
He may have wagers dependent upon the guesses that will be made concerning him.
Peradventure it might injure him in his professional pursuits, were he to be known as an author, and that he had neglected “some sober calling for this idle trade.”
He may be a very modest man, who can muster courage enough for publication, and yet dares not encounter any farther publicity.