University of Virginia Library

PREFACE.
COMPRISING A SHORT DISSERTATION
ON NOVEL.

THE eighteenth century, says a writer,
may be peculiarly and emphatically called
the Age of Novels.[1] The remark is undoubtedly
applicable, from the number
which appeared within that period, and the
avidity with which they were sought and
read. Among these, some were from authors
of distinguished abilities, and will
long be celebrated; others are but miserable
imitations, destined never to receive
a second impression.

Novel, or Romance,[2] is a species of
narrative in which either the principal characters
are real, and the incidents compounded
of fiction and truth, or where the
actors, the scenery and the drama, are entirely

imaginary. When embellished
with national characteristics, that of the
former class cannot fail of claiming preference,
as the most interesting.

The days of chivalry afforded ample
scope and materials for Romance. To
the knights errant the most absurd and
improbable exploits and achievements
were ascribed, such as the demolition of
impregnable castles, the destruction of
monsters and mighty giants. Even dæ
mons were put to flight, enchantments
broken, and the powers of darkness vanquished,
by these all-conquering, roving,
gentry. Extravagant as these fabulous
stories were, and abounding, as they did,
with licentiousness and impurity, yet, in
those gloomy and superstitious times,
they, for a long season, held an unbounded
influence over public taste, which, in
all ages, has fondly relished the wonderful
and the marvellous. But the shafts of ridicule,
from the quiver of genius, finally
demolished the magic structure, destroyed
the fantastic apparatus, and effected a
reform in general sentiment; since which,
fictitious narrative has experienced various
improvements and modifications,

until it received the costume in which it
now appears.

But though Novel is divested of some
of its objectional qualities, it yet retains
many irregularities and disproportionate
features. In general, its characters are
incorrectly drawn, its incidents improbable,
its descriptive colourings artificial and
unnatural. To the discriminating eye, a
distorted portrait is ever disgusting.

Another fault is the multiplicity of character
introduced, through a mistaken notion
of producing variety, by which, not
only the reader, but frequently the writer
himself, is plunged into a wilderness of
intricate mazes, from whence, with extreme
difficulty and embarrassment, the
chain of events leads to the final catastrophe,
through inextricable confusion, and
impenetrable obscurity. Diversity of incident
may be happily effected, without
involving the plot in a host of personage.

But the most important objection to
these productions, is their immoral tendency.
Nor can the objection be esteemed
unfounded, when we consider the

manner in which they are commonly written.
In most of our modern novels, seduction
forms the prominent feature.—
On the one hand, all the faculties, every
active power, all the affections, are concentrated
and drawn to a point—the indulgence
of a single passion. Wealth,
reputation, honour, health, are considered
as trifling sacrifices to the attainment of
the object pursued, which, no sooner is
possessed than abandoned, without a sigh
of regret, though its transition from innocence
to infamy be the consequence. On
the other side, youth, beauty, loveliness,
virtue, with all the fascinating graces of
female excellence, are set in battle array
against the formidable foe. The conflict
is minutely described, offensive by the
former party, defensive by the latter,
which, notwithstanding its inferiority in
strength and tactic skill, makes a brave
resistance against clandestine intrigue and
open force, external and internal adversaries;
and though driven to the last extremity,
refuses to surrender, on offer of the
most liberal and flattering terms; and
when finally vanquished, it is by surprise,
by escalade, by bribing the guards, or by
lulling them asleep with some soporific
preparation. In this representation the
language glows with the `sorcery of sentiment,'
the scenery with meretricious voluptuousness,
serving as incentives to indelicate
passion, as stimuli to licentious
principle. To portraitures like these,
few, if any originals, ever existed.

There is another class of novelists, perhaps
equally dangerous. These affect to
follow nature, and to draw their characters
from real life. Thus, as a contrast to
the virtuous and worthy qualifications
which their principal personages are made
to possess, they must also exhibit their
foibles, their frailties, and their vices; and
as they never fail to make the former predominate,
the reader, as he becomes interested
in the story, loses his aversion to
the evil actions and propensities, in the
splendour and brilliancy of the meritorious
exploits and achievements, and is finally
induced to venerate the hero, though
`black with murder, sacrilege and crime.'
On this point, the writer is of opinion, that
real pictures of life and manners, are the
province of history; of novel, to portray
characters as they probably might be.

Previous to the age of chivalry, so far
as we have any evidence, the general, character
of Romance was less exceptionable
than even under the boasted refinement of
the present day. The most ancient which
has fallen within the writer's knowledge, is
the Ethiopics of Heliodorus, a bishop of
Thessaly, written about the year A. D.
350. Who that has read it, but must
have felt a deep and sympathetic interest
in the delicate and sentimental disquietudes,
the tender loves, and affectionate vicissitudes,
of Theagines and Chariclea,
the principal personages in the work?
Who but must admire the beauty of scenery,
the correctness of descriptive drapery,
therein displayed? It was a chaste
and virtuous production, yet such were the
superstition and fanaticism of the day, that
the bishop was not only deprived of his
office, but excommunicated the church,
for refusing to suppress it.

It would be difficult to point out the
novels which have obtained the greatest
popularity, so various and so different are
public taste and opinion. In the field of
satire, perhaps, the Don Quixote of Cervantes
leads the van, from which, probably,

Butler took the hint for forming the
drama of his famous Hudibras. The
Tom Jones of Fielding has generally
been considered as a finished production,
yet it abounds with indelicacy, grossness
and profanity, abhorrent to a correct mind.
For incident, Brookes' Fool of Quality,
is, by many, styled eminent; and as a
compilation of truth and fiction, the Travels
of Cyrus, is highly esteemed. As a
philosophical performance, the Rasselas,
of Dr. Johnson, is justly celebrated, as is
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield, for its
chastity and moral tendency, though, by
some, it has been objected to, on account
of its uniformity, want of incident, and of
variety.

But of all the novels extant, none has
been considered more dangerous to youthful
morals and principles than Rosseau's
Nouvelle Heloise, Like the poems of Anacreon
Moore, its blandishing, florid, and
seductive style, irresistibly interests the
heart, and enlists the passions and the affections.
Sentimentally voluptuous, and licentiously
descriptive, its glowing pages
fascinate the intellectual powers, and like
the dæmon in an angel's form, charm, and

allure, but to destroy. It is said that the author,
when he wrote this singular work, did
not intend it for publication, but that adverse
circumstances, in his advanced years,
induced him to commit it to the press.

Dr. Miller justly observes that the novels
most esteemed for their chastity and
purity, are those written by ladies; among
these may be named the Children of
the Abbey, Camilla, and other productions
from the same pens, as also the works of
Miss Seward, Williams, C. Smith, Owenson,
Mrs. Sheridan, Brooke, and some
others. The historic Romances of Miss
Porter, particularly her Thaddeus of Warsaw,
and her Scottish Chiefs, are peculiarly
celebrated; the former of which has already
run through several editions. But
no writer, ancient or modern, has yet equalled
Mrs. Radcliffe, in the field of Romance.
In pathos, incident, in interesting
narrative, and particularly in sublime
description, mingled with wild romantic
scenery, and solemn terrific imagery, she
has no rival; added to these, her style is
elegant, natural and easy, and her pages
unsullied by a stain. The unfortunate
fate of this lady is deeply to be lamented

by every friend to genius and sentimental
literature.[3]

Few novelists of any eminence, have
appeared in this country. Indeed the only
one who can lay much claim to originality,
is Brown, of Philadelphia. His
writings evince rich invention, lively description,
and classical diction. Some,
however, have complained of their sameness
in rapidity of style. Miss Warren,
of Boston, has written a work of considerable
merit, entitled The Gamesters;
Glencairne, also, by the author of The
Lawyer, is no mean production.

In fictitious narrative the scenery
should be natural, the sentiment pure, the
story probable, and explicit; not loaded
with inexplicated incidents, nor involved
in mysteries unelucidated by the catastrophe.
Indecorous stimulants ought, on
no occasion, to be admitted, profanity never

personified, nor should carricatura be
freely indulged, unless the performance be
farcical. In description, the portraits
should be drawn from familiar objects, the
paintings correct, the colours regular:
they may glow, but not dazzle; strike,
but not confound. The pictures, though
taken from nature, yet ought not to represent
either the brightest or the darkest
traits in the originals. Gross and immoral
imagery should ever be avoided.

That romantic history may be so written
as to be productive of real usefulness
and advantage, cannot, with propriety be
denied. When properly executed, it
tends to purify and elevate the affections;
to improve the mind, while it amuses the
fancy; to amend, as well as to interest the
heart, and thus enlarge the sphere of knowledge,
and promote the cause of moral
and social virtue. There are, indeed,
some novels which may lay claim to this
distinction; but these are, comparatively,
so few, and those of a contrary tendency
so numerous, that the general character of
Novel has been brought into disrepute.

To assist in retrieving the reputation of
sentimental story, has been the author's

aim in the ensuing work; a reputation tarnished,
not by integral defect, or constitutional
depravity, but by a deviation, like
the true church, from its original, correct,
and orthodox standard. The fine gold
has become debased, and rendered impure
by the copious mixture of alloy.

As an exemplification to preceding observations,
it may not be improper here to
remark, that the most sublime specimens
of fine writing, the most splendid productions
of belleslettres genius, of either ancient
or modern date, have been presented
to us in the form of Novel. The Iliad of
Homer, the ænead of Virgil, Ossian's
Fingal, Milton's Paradise, Dwight's Conquest,
Barlow's Columbiad, and several
other similar performances, are, in fact,
epic novels, possessing the polished and
superior advantages of lofty and majestic
numbers. They have their unities of design,
their plots, and their catastrophes.
They are systems of ingenious fiction,
built on truth, embellished with incident,
description, sentiment, and with all the
grand apparatus of heroic romance. Of
the comic, and tragi-comic class, instances
might be adduced. Writers on

other subjects, from the earliest times,
have adopted this mode for conveying
wise and useful information to man.

But what wilt thou say, moral reader,
should the author inform thee that thy Bible
contains specimens of this species of
writing? Yet be assured that such is the
fact. The sacred writers, the holy seers,
and the inspired prophets, frequently had
recourse to this method, for the purpose
of revealing, and instilling into the mind
the most solemn and important truths.
Even the great founder of the Christian religion,
often inculcated its principles by
similitude, or parable; a convincing proof
of its utility in gaining access to the heart.

It is not, therefore, the essential, or
radical principle, but the perverted use,
or abuse, of this kind of composition,
which admits just cause of complaint;
and to similar abuses and complaints are
the best and wisest of human inventions
and institutions ever liable.

Then let not the moralist or the Divine,
turn, fastidiously, from our pages, before
he has given them a perusal. Let not

prejudice condemn the book, merely because
it may be considered as coming under
the class of Novel. Permit it to speak
for itself; let it be its own advocate; read
it, and then decide according to its merits.

From preceding remarks, the general
plan on which the following work is attempted,
may be perceived. One point,
the author has endeavoured to establish,
that a firm reliance on Providence, however
the affections and the passions may be at
war with its dispensations, is the only real
source of consolation in the gloomy hours
of affliction; and that, generally, such
dependence, though embarrassed with difficulties
and perplexities, will, in the end,
meet a happy and victorious reward.

If any should object to it as a work of
fancy, the author informs them that this is
not, exclusively, the case, in respect to
the succeeding production, as the principal
characters there introduced, are still
living, though their names, for obvious
reasons, are assumed. To some of the
detailed events, witnesses yet remain to
attest. It may be esteemed a juvenile
production, as the historic part was moulded

into form by the writer in the leisure
hours of his early years, and a few of the
incidents interwoven therewith; methodized,
and delineated, with additional colourings,
it thereafter appeared in a miscellaneous
print; it is now published on
a revised, and much extended scale, in
which former deficiencies are supplied,
preceding errors corrected, and new characters,
scenes, and occurrences, introduced.

Romance, founded on great events, and
embracing eminent characters and important
achievements, cannot be written, with
any considerable degree of interest and
effect, where the scenery is laid, and
the drama cast, in America; because,
should it be attempted, the theatre must
be erected on the field of the revolution,
an era not sufficiently remote, and comprising
occurrences too recent, to be arrayed
in the vesture of fiction. It will,
however, furnish materials, and the most
brilliant apparatus, to a writer of some
succeeding century.

Should there be found those who may
consider the work too highly decorated

with descriptive drapery, or object to what
is termed a luxuriancy of style, the writer
would observe that it was his original intention
to give it as great a variety of vivid
colourings as he conceived it would bear;
and, unless he is mistaken, if the paintings
are correct, it renders the performance
much more acceptable to readers of
sentimental taste and refinement. Embellished
with these fanciful decorations, Novel
is a garden of rich shrubbery and flowers;
without them, it is a cheerless and
dreary waste.

The author well knows what critics can
say on this subject. They may censure
him as loading his style with the epithets
of poetry, which they may pronounce
inelegant and improper, in such kind of
composition, and call on Aristotle, Longinus,
and a thousand other critical annotators,
to prove the correctness of this
opinion. In plain narrative, the remark
would, doubtless, be correct; but Novel
is of a different character; it is compounded
of historic description, of real
and fictitious incident; it is, therefore,
nearly allied, not only to poetry, but, also,
to painting, where, in similar cases,

fancy is permitted to display her colourings
with superior brilliancy, and with
greater freedom, than on more classic or
methodical subjects. Hence, few readers
would become interested in a novel, written
after the formal and philosophic manner
of analogous history.

In the narrative department, it was intended
the language should be of the middle
class, neither soaring to that sublimity
which dazzles the understanding by its
perpetual glitter, nor sinking to dull and
trite inelegance. If such be the fact, it
will have constituted a variety of diction,
and formed a contrast to those descriptive
parts where a more florid style is admitted.

Contrary to general custom, the principal
episode, instead of being intermingled
in alternate periods through the body
of the work, is given entire. This
mode was preferred, not solely as a precedent,
but because it was esteemed as
better adapted to the taste of most readers,
who prefer connexion and regularity
to disorder and interruption; and although
this episode may not be considered as
forming an important link in the grand

chain of events—of unity, plot, and design—yet
was it not introduced, merely, to
swell the volumes, but with a view to picture
man in the various grades and attitudes
of life, through affluence, mediocrity,
misfortune, and wretchedness. Its
perusal was also intended to prepare the
mind of Melissa, young and inexperienced
in the ways of life, for the events she,
thereafter, was destined to encounter. The
sketch therein comprised relative to new
settlers, may, likewise, not be found uninteresting.
At any rate, it constitutes variety,
which is not the least object in performances
of this description.

Errors not discerned by an author, may
yet be discovered by the critical reader. It
would be rare, if, especially in a first edition,
such was not the case. On this point
the writer will only remark, that it was not
in his power, from his local situation, to
submit the manuscript to a circle of literary
friends for their inspection, advice, or
correction. He was, therefore, compelled
to rely upon his own judgment.

The production is entirely American.
The poetry is all from the geniuses of our

own country, to most of whom credit is
given; where this is not done, it is because
the writer was not at liberty to make
the references. The scenery, though extended
to Europe, is laid in New-London,
Boston, Charleston, (S. C.) and in various
other parts of the United States.

Whether the author has succeeded in his
attempt; whether his work will obtain general
approbation, or be thrown aside among
other ephemeral productions of the
day, must yet be decided by the public tribunal.
That his hopes are in his favour,
he need scarcely say. Should he experience
disappointment, he would have the
satisfaction still left, that, to him, the circumstance
would not be unprecedented,
and that he, only, must be the principal
sufferer. It will not, he also flatters himself,
be deemed censurable, that he has
contributed a particle to the common stock,
with a view to increase the happiness, by
adding to the amusement, of the people of
his own country.