You and I, my good friend, have often deliberated on the difficulty of
writing such a dedication as might gratify the self-complacency of a
patron, without exposing the author to the ridicule or censure of the
public; and I think we generally agreed that the task was altogether
impracticable.--Indeed, this was one of the few subjects on which we have
always thought in the same manner. For, notwithstanding that deference
and regard which we mutually pay to each other, certain it is, we have
often differed, according to the predominancy of those different
passions, which frequently warp the opinion, and perplex the
understanding of the most judicious.
In dedication, as in poetry, there is no medium; for, if any one of the
human virtues be omitted in the enumeration of the patron's good
qualities, the whole address is construed into an affront, and the writer
has the mortification to find his praise prostituted to very little
purpose.
On the other hand, should he yield to the transports of gratitude or
affection, which is always apt to exaggerate, and produce no more than
the genuine effusions of his heart, the world will make no allowance for
the warmth of his passion, but ascribe the praise he bestows to
interested views and sordid adulation.
Sometimes too, dazzled by the tinsel of a character which he has no
opportunity to investigate, he pours forth the homage of his admiration
upon some false Maecenas, whose future conduct gives the lie to his
eulogium, and involves him in shame and confusion of face. Such was the
fate of a late ingenious author [the Author of the "Seasons"], who was so
often put to the blush for the undeserved incense he had offered in the
heat of an enthusiastic disposition, misled by popular applause, that he
had resolved to retract, in his last will, all the encomiums which he had
thus prematurely bestowed, and stigmatise the unworthy by name--a
laudable scheme of poetical justice, the execution of which was fatally
prevented by untimely death.
Whatever may have been the fate of other dedicators, I, for my own part,
sit down to write this address, without any apprehension of disgrace or
disappointment; because I know you are too well convinced of my affection
and sincerity to repine at what I shall say touching your character and
conduct. And you will do me the justice to believe, that this public
distinction is a testimony of my particular friendship and esteem.
Not that I am either insensible of your infirmities, or disposed to
conceal them from the notice of mankind. There are certain foibles which
can only be cured by shame and mortification; and whether or not yours be
of that species, I shall have the comfort to think my best endeavours
were used for your reformation.
Know then, I can despise your pride, while I honour your integrity, and
applaud your taste, while I am shocked at your ostentation.--I have known
you trifling, superficial, and obstinate in dispute; meanly jealous and
awkwardly reserved; rash and haughty in your resentments; and coarse and
lowly in your connexions. I have blushed at the weakness of your
conversation, and trembled at the errors of your conduct--yet, as I own
you possess certain good qualities, which overbalance these defects, and
distinguish you on this occasion as a person for whom I have the most
perfect attachment and esteem, you have no cause to complain of the
indelicacy with which your faults are reprehended. And as they are
chiefly the excesses of a sanguine disposition and looseness of thought,
impatient of caution or control, you may, thus stimulated, watch over
your own intemperance and infirmity with redoubled vigilance and
consideration, and for the future profit by the severity of my reproof.
These, however, are not the only motives that induce me to trouble you
with this public application. I must not only perform my duty to my
friends, but also discharge the debt I owe to my own interest. We live
in a censorious age; and an author cannot take too much precaution to
anticipate the prejudice, misapprehension, and temerity of malice,
ignorance, and presumption.
I therefore think it incumbent upon me to give some previous intimation
of the plan which I have executed in the subsequent performance, that I
may not be condemned upon partial evidence; and to whom can I with more
propriety appeal in my explanation than to you, who are so well
acquainted with all the sentiments and emotions of my breast?
A novel is a large diffused picture, comprehending the characters of
life, disposed in different groups, and exhibited in various attitudes,
for the purposes of an uniform plan, and general occurrence, to which
every individual figure is subservient. But this plan cannot be executed
with propriety, probability, or success, without a principal personage to
attract the attention, unite the incidents, unwind the clue of the
labyrinth, and at last close the scene, by virtue of his own importance.
Almost all the heroes of this kind, who have hitherto succeeded on the
English stage, are characters of transcendent worth, conducted through
the vicissitudes of fortune, to that goal of happiness, which ever ought
to be the repose of extraordinary desert.--Yet the same principle by
which we rejoice at the remuneration of merit, will teach us to relish
the disgrace and discomfiture of vice, which is always an example of
extensive use and influence, because it leaves a deep impression of
terror upon the minds of those who were not confirmed in the pursuit of
morality and virtue, and, while the balance wavers, enables the right
scale to preponderate.
In the drama, which is a more limited field of invention, the chief
personage is often the object of our detestation and abhorrence; and we
are as well pleased to see the wicked schemes of a Richard blasted, and
the perfidy of a Maskwell exposed, as to behold a Bevil happy, and an
Edward victorious.
The impulses of fear, which is the most violent and interesting of all
the passions, remain longer than any other upon the memory; and for one
that is allured to virtue, by the contemplation of that peace and
happiness which it bestows, a hundred are deterred from the practice of
vice, by that infamy and punishment to which it is liable, from the laws
and regulations of mankind.
Let me not, therefore, be condemned for having chosen my principal
character from the purlieus of treachery and fraud, when I declare my
purpose is to set him up as a beacon for the benefit of the unexperienced
and unwary, who, from the perusal of these memoirs, may learn to avoid
the manifold snares with which they are continually surrounded in the
paths of life; while those who hesitate on the brink of iniquity may be
terrified from plunging into that irremediable gulf, by surveying the
deplorable fate of Ferdinand Count Fathom.
That the mind might not be fatigued, nor the imagination disgusted, by a
succession of vicious objects, I have endeavoured to refresh the
attention with occasional incidents of a different nature; and raised up
a virtuous character, in opposition to the adventurer, with a view to
amuse the fancy, engage the affection, and form a striking contrast which
might heighten the expression, and give a relief to the moral of the
whole.
If I have not succeeded in my endeavours to unfold the mysteries of
fraud, to instruct the ignorant, and entertain the vacant; if I have
failed in my attempts to subject folly to ridicule, and vice to
indignation; to rouse the spirit of mirth, wake the soul of compassion,
and touch the secret springs that move the heart; I have, at least,
adorned virtue with honour and applause, branded iniquity with reproach
and shame, and carefully avoided every hint or expression which could
give umbrage to the most delicate reader--circumstances which (whatever
may be my fate with the public) will with you always operate
in favour of,
Dear sir, your very affectionate friend and servant,