Since Hugh Wynne was published in book form in 1896, it has been many
times reprinted, and now that again there is need for a new edition, I
use a desired opportunity to rectify some mistakes in names, dates, and
localities. These errors were of such a character as to pass unnoticed
by the ordinary reader and disturb no one except the local archaeologist
or those who propose to the novelist that he shall combine the accuracy
of the historical scholar with the creative imagination of the writer of
what, after all, is fiction.
Nevertheless, the desire of the scientific mind even in the novel is
for all reasonable accuracy, and to attain it I used for six years
such winter leisures as the exacting duties of a busy professional life
permitted, to collect notes of the dress, hours, sports, habits and talk
of the various types of men and women I meant to delineate. I burned
a hundred pages of these carefully gathered materials soon after I had
found time, in a summer holiday, to write the book for which these notes
were so industriously gathered.
It is probable that no historical novel was ever paid the compliment
of the close criticism of details which greeted Hugh Wynne. I was most
largely in debt for the pointing out of errors in names and localities
to a review of my book in a journal devoted to the interest of one of
the two divisions of the Society of Friends.
I deeply regretted at the time that my useful critic should have
considered my novel as a deliberately planned attack on the views
entertained by Friends. It was once again an example of the assumption
that the characters of a novel in their opinions and talk represent the
author’s personal beliefs. I was told by my critic that John Wynne is
presented as “the type of the typical character of the Friends.” As well
might Bishop Proudie be considered as representative of the members and
views of the Church of England or Mr. Tulkinghorn of the English lawyer.
A man’s course in life does not always represent simple obedience to the
counsels of perfection implied in an accepted creed of conduct, but is
modified by his own nature. He may therefore quite fail to secure from
his beliefs that which they produce in more assimilative natures. Age
softens some hard characters, but in John Wynne the early development
of senile dementia deprived him of this chance. I drew a peculiar and
happily a rare type of man who might have illustrated failure to get the
best out of any creed.
The course of this great revolutionary struggle made or marred many men,
and the way in which such a time affects character affords to the novel
of history its most interesting material.
Erroneous statements in regard to the time and place of Friends’
Meetings have been pointed out. As concerns these and the like, I may
here state that the manuscript of my novel was read with care by a
gentleman who was a birthright member of the Society and both by age
and knowledge competent to speak. He remarked upon some of my technical
errors in regard to the meetings and discipline of Friends, but advised
against change and said that it was traditionally well known that at the
time of the Revolution there was much confusion in their assemblies and
great bitterness of feeling when so many like Wetherill chose to revolt
against the doctrine of absolute obedience to what, whether rightfully
or not, they regarded as oppression. Needless to say that I meant no
more than to delineate a great spiritual conflict in a very interesting
body of men who, professing neutrality, were, if we may trust
Washington, anything but neutral.
The amount of accuracy to be allowed in historic fiction aroused fresh
interest when Hugh Wynne first appeared. In romances like Quentin
Durward and Ivanhoe the question need not be considered. What may annoy
the historian in the more serious novel of history does not trouble the
ordinary reader nor does it detract from the interest of the story. How
little the grossest errors in biography and history affect the opinions
of the public concerning a novel long popular may be illustrated by the
fact that one of my critics referred me to Henry Esmond for an example
of desirable accuracy. It was an unfortunate choice, for in Esmond there
is hardly a correct historical statement. The Duke of Hamilton described
as about to marry Beatrix was the husband of a second living wife and
the father of seven children--an example of contemplated literary
bigamy which does not distress the happily ignorant, nor are they at all
troubled by the many other and even more singular errors in statement,
some of them plainly the result of carelessness. A novel, it seems, may
sin sadly as concerns historic facts and yet survive.
The purpose of the novel is, after all, to be acceptably interesting.
If it be historical, the historic people should not be the constantly
present heroes of the book. The novelist’s proper use of them is to
influence the fates of lesser people and to give the reader such sense
of their reality as in the delineation of characters, is rarely possible
for the historian.
With these long intended comments, I leave this book to the many readers
whose wants a new edition is meant to supply. I may say in conclusion
that I should have been less eager to alter, correct, and explain if it
were not that in schools and colleges Hugh Wynne has been and is
still used in a variety of ways so that the example of accuracy and a
definition of its desirable extent in historic fiction becomes in some
sense a literary duty.