part I
have believed that more care is to be had of ones with; and if any one remarks the name of _Satrape_ in this _Romanze_, let him not magine that my ignorance hath confounded the ancient and new Persia, and that I have done it without Authority, I have an example thereof in _Vigenere_, who makes use of it in his Illustrations upon _Calchondila_; and I have learned it of a _Persian_, which is at _Paris_, who saith, that by corruption of speech they call yet to this day the Governours of Provinces, _Soltan Sitripin_.
Now lest some other should further accuse me for having improperly named _Ibrahim_'s House a Palace, since all those of quality are called _Seraglioes_ at _Constantinople_, I desire you to remember that I have done it by the counsel of two or three excellent persons, who have found as well as my self, that this name of _Seraglio_ would leave an _Idea_ which was not seemly, and that it was fit not to make use of it, but in speaking of the Grand Signior, and that as seldom as might be. But whilest we are speaking of a Palace, I am to advertise you, that such as are not curious to see a goodly building, may pass by the gate of that of my _Heroe_ without entring into it, that is to say, not to read the description of it; it is not because I have handled this matter like to _Athenagoras_, who playes the Mason In the Temple of _Jupiter Hammon_; nor like _Poliphile_ in his dreams, who hath set down most strange terms, and all the dimensions of Architecture, whereas I have employed but the Ornaments thereof; it is not because they are not Beauties suitable to the _Romanze_, as well as to the _Epique Poem_, since the most famous both of the one and the other have them; nor is it too because mine is not grounded on the History, which assures us that it was the most superb the Turks ever made, as still appears by the remains thereof, which they of that Nation call _Serrau Ibrahim_.
But to conclude, as inclinations ought to be free, such as love not those beautifull things, for which I have so much passion (as I have said) pass on without looking on them, and leave them to others more curious of those rarities, which I have assembled together with art and care enough. Now Reader, ingenuity being a matter necessary for a man of Honour, and the theft of glory being the basest that may be committed, I must confess here for fear of being accused of it, that the History of the Count of _Lavagna_, which you shall see in my Book, is partly a Paraphrase of _Mascardies_; this Adventure falling out in the time whilest I was writing, I judged it too excellent not to set it down, and too well indited for to undertake to do it better; so that regard not this place but as a Translation of that famous Italian, and except the matters, which concern my History, attribute all to that great man, whose Interpreter only I am. And if you finde something not very serious in the Histories of a certain French Marquis, which I have interlaced in my Book, remember if you please, that a _Romanze_ ought to have the Images of all natures; and this diversity makes up the beauties of it, and the delight of the Reader; and at the worst regard it as the sport of a Melancholick, and suffer it without blaming it. But before I make an end, I must pass from matters to the manner of delivering them, and desire you also not to forget, that a Narrative stile ought not to be too much inflated, no more than that of ordinarie conversations; that the more facile it is, the more excellent it is; that it ought to glide along like the Rivers, and not rebound up like Torrents; and that the less constraint it hath, the more perfection it hath; I have endeavoured then to observe a just mediocrity between vicious Elevation, and creeping Lowness; I have contained my self in Narration, and left my self free in Orations and in Passions, and without speaking as extravagants and the vulgar, I have laboured to speak as worthy persons do.
Behold, Reader, that which I had to say to you, but what defence soever, I have imployed, I know that it is of works of this nature, as of a place of War, where notwithstanding all the care the Engineer hath brought to fortifie it, there is alwayes some weak part found, which he hath not dream'd of, and whereby it is assaulted; but this shall not surprize me; for as I have not forgot that I am a man, no more have I forgot that I am subject to erre.
THE
Secret History
OF
Queen _ZARAH_,
AND THE
_Zarazians_;
BEING A
Looking-glass
FOR
----- --------
In the Kingdom of
_ALBIGION_.
Faithfully Translated from the _Italian_ Copy now lodg'd in the _Vatican_ at _Rome_, and never before Printed in any Language.
_Albigion_, Printed in the Year 1705.
Price Stitch'd 1 _s._ Price Bound 1 _s._ 6 _d._
TO THE
READER.
_The Romances in_ France _have for a long Time been the Diversion and Amusement of the whole World; the People both in the City and at Court have given themselves over to this Vice, and all Sorts of People have read these Works with a most surprizing Greediness; but that Fury is very much abated, and they are all fallen off from this Distraction: The Little_ Histories _of this Kind have taken Place of_ Romances, _whose Prodigious Number of Volumes were sufficient to tire and satiate such whose Heads were most fill'd with those Notions._
_These little Pieces which have banish'd_ Romances _are much more agreeable to the Brisk and Impetuous Humour of the_ English, _who have naturally no Taste for long-winded Performances, for they have no sooner begun a Book, but they desire to see the End of it: The Prodigious Length of the Ancient_ Romances, _the Mixture of so many Extraordinary Adventures, and the great Number of Actors that appear on the Stage, and the Likeness which is so little managed, all which has given a Distaste to Persons of good Sense, and has made Romances so much cry'd down, as we find 'em at present. The Authors of Historical Novels, who have found out this Fault, have run into the same Error, because they take for the Foundation of their History no more than one Principal Event, and don't overcharge it with_ Episodes, _which wou'd extend it to an Excessive Length; but they are run into another Fault, which I cannot Pardon, that is, to please by Variety the Taste of the Reader, they mix particular Stories with the Principal_ History, _which seems to me as if they reason'd Ill; in Effect the Curiosity of the Reader is deceiv'd by this Deviation from the Subject, which retards the Pleasure he wou'd have in seeing the End of an Event; it relishes of a Secret Displeasure in the Author, which makes him soon lose Sight of those Persons with whom he began to be in Love; besides the vast Number of Actors who have such different Interests, embarresses his Memory, and causes some Confusion in his Brain, because 'tis necessary for the Imagination to labour to recal the several Interests and Characters of the Persons spoken of, and by which they have interrupted the_ History.
_For the Reader's better Understanding, we ought not to chuse too Ancient Accidents, nor unknown Heroes, which are fought for in a Barbarous Countrey, and too far distant in Time, for we care little for what was done a Thousand Years ago among the_ Tartars _or_ Ayssines.
_The Names of Persons ought to have a Sweetness in them, for a Barbarous Name disturbs the Imagination; as the Historian describes the Heroes to his Fancy, so he ought to give them Qualities which affect the Reader, and which fixes him to his Fortune; but he ought with great Care to observe the Probability of Truth, which consists in saying nothing but what may Morally be believed._
_For there are Truths that are not always probable; as for Example 'tis an allowed Truth in the_ Roman History _that_ Nero _put his Mother to Death, but 'tis a Thing against all Reason and Probability that a Son shou'd embrue his Hand in the Blood of his own Mother; it is also no less probable that a Single Captain shou'd at the Head of a Bridge stop a whole Army, although 'tis probable that a small Number of Soldiers might stop, in Defiles, Prodigious Armies, because the Situation of the Place favours the Design, and renders them almost Equal. He that writes a True History ought to place the Accidents as they Naturally happen, without endeavouring to sweeten them for to procure a greater Credit, because he is not obliged to answer for their Probability; but he that composes a History to his Fancy, gives his Heroes what Characters he pleases; and places the Accidents as he thinks fit, without believing he shall be contradicted by other Historians, therefore he if obliged to Write nothing that is improbable; 'tis nevertheless allowable that an Historian shows the Elevation of his_ Genius, _when advancing Improbable Actions, he gives them Colours and Appearances capable of Perswading._
_One of the Things an Author ought first of all to take Care of, is to keep up to the Characters of the Persons he introduces. The Authors of_ Romances _give Extraordinary Virtues to their Heroins, exempted from all the Weakness of Humane Nature, and much above the Infirmities of their Sex; 'tis Necessary they shou'd be Virtuous or Vicious to Merit the Esteem or Disesteem of the Reader; but their Virtue out to be spared, and their Vices exposed to every Trial: It wou'd in no wise be probable that a Young Woman fondly beloved by a Man of great Merit, and for whom she had a Reciprocal Tenderness, finding her self at all Times alone with him in Places which favour'd their Loves, cou'd always resist his Addresses; there are too Nice Occasions; and an Author wou'd not enough observe good Sense, if he therein exposed his Heroins; 'tis a Fault which Authors of_ Romances _commit in every Page; they would blind the Reader with this Miracle, but 'tis necessary the Miracle shou'd be feisable, to make an Impression in the Brain of Reasonable Persons; the Characters are better managed in the Historical Novels, which are writ now-a-days; they are not fill'd with great Adventures, and extraordinary Accidents, for the most simple Action may engage the Reader by the Circumstances that attend it; it enters into all the Motions and Disquiets of the Actor, when they have well express'd to him the Character. If he be Jealous, the Look of a Person he Loves, a Mouse, a turn of the Head, or the least complaisance to a Rival, throws him into the greatest Agitations, which the Readers perceive by a Counter-blow; if he be very Vertuous, and falls into a Mischance by Accident, they Pity him and Commiserate his Misfortunes; for Fear and Pity in Romance as well as Tragedies are the Two Instruments which move the Passion; for we in some Manner put our selves in the Room of those we see in Danger; the Part we take therein, and the fear of falling into the like Misfortunes, causes us to interest our selves more in their Adventures, because that those sort of Accidents may happen, to all the World; and it touches so much the more, because they are the common Effect of Nature._
_The Heroes in the Ancient_ Romances _have nothing in them that is Natural; all is unlimited in their Character; all their Advantages have Something Prodigious, and all their Actions Something that's Marvellous; in short, they are not Men: A single Prince attact by a great Number of Enemies, it so far from giving way to the Croud, that he does Incredible Feats of Valour, beats them, puts them to flight, delivers all the Prisoners, and kills an infinite Number of People, to deserve the Title of a Hero. A Reader who has any Sense does not take part with these Fabulous Adventures, or at least is but slightly touch'd with them, because they are not natural, and therefore cannot be believ'd. The Heroes of the Modern Romances are better Characteriz'd, they give them Passions, Vertues or Vices, which resemble Humanity; thus all the World will find themselves represented in these Descriptions, which ought to be exact, and mark'd by Tracts which express clearly the Character of the Hero, to the end we may not be deceived, and may presently know our predominant Quality, which ought to give the Spirit all the Motion and Action of our Lives; 'tis that which inspires the Reader with Curiosity, and a certain impatient Desire to see the End of the Accidents, the reading of which causes an Exquisite Pleasure when they are Nicely handled; the Motion of the Heart gives yet more, but the Author ought to have an Extraordinary Penetration to distinguish them well, and not to lose himself in this Labyrinth. Most Authors are contented to describe Men in general, they represent them Covetous, Courageous and Ambitious, without entering into the
## Particulars, and without specifying the Character of their
Covetousness, Valour or Ambition; they don't perceive Nice Distinctions, which those who know it Remark in the Passions; in Effect, the Nature, Humour and Juncture, give New Postures to Vices; the Turn of the Mind, Motion of the Heart, Affection and Interests, alter the very Nature of the Passions, which are different in All Men; the Genius of the Author marvellously appears when he Nicely discovers those Differences, and exposes to the Reader's Sight those almost unperceivable Jealousies which escape the Sight of most Authors, because they have not an exact Notion of the Turnings and Motions of Humane Understanding; and they know nothing but the gross Passions, from whence they make but general Descriptions._
_He that Writes either a True or False History, ought immediately to take Notice of the Time and Sense where those Accidents happen'd, that the Reader may not remain long in Suspence; he ought also in few Words describe the Person who bears the most Considerable Part in his Story to engage the Reader; 'tis a Thing that little conduces to the raising the Merit of a Heroe, to Praise him by the Beauty of his Face; this is mean and trivial, Detail discourages Persons of good Taste; 'tis the Qualities of the Soul which ought to render him acceptable; and there are those Qualities likewise that ought to be discourag'd in the Principal Character of a Heroe, for there are Actors of a Second Rank, who serve only to bind the Intrigue, and they ought not to be compar'd with those of the First Order, nor be given Qualities that may cause them to be equally Esteemd; 'tis not by Extravagant Expressions, nor Repeated Praises, that the Reader's Esteem is acquired to the Character of the Heroe's, their Actions ought to plead far them; 'tis by that they are made known; and describe themselves; altho' they ought to have some Extraordinary Qualities, they ought not all to have 'em in an equal degree; 'tis impossible they shou'd not have some Imperfections, seeing they are Men, but their Imperfections ought not to destroy the Character that is attributed to them; if we describe them Brave, Liberal and Generous, we ought not to attribute to them Baseness or Cowardice, because that their Actions wou'd otherwise bely their Character, and the Predominant Virtures of the Heroes: 'Tis no Argument that_ Salust, _though so Happy in the Description of Men, in the Description of_ Cataline _does not in some manner describe him Covetous also; for he says this Ambitious Man spent his own Means profusely, and raged after the Goods of another with an Extream Greediness, but these Two Motions which seem contrary were inspired by the same Wit; these were the Effects of the Unbounded Ambition of_ Cataline, _and the desire he had to Rise by the help of his Creatures on the Ruins of the_ Roman _Republic; so vast a Project cou'd not be Executed by very great Sums of Money, which obliged_ Cataline _to make all Sorts of Efforts to get it from all Parts._
_Every Historian ought to be extreamly uninterested; he ought neither to Praise nor Blame those he speaks of; he ought to be contented with Exposing the Actions, leaving an entire Liberty to the Reader to judge at he pleases, without taking any care not to blame his Heroes, or make their Apology; he is no judge of the merit of his Heroes, his Business is to represent them in the same Form as they are, and describe their Sentiments, Manners and Conduct; it deviates in some manner from his Character, and that perfect uninterestedness, when he adds to the Names of those he introduces Epithets either to Blame or Praise them; there are but few Historians who exactly follow this Rule, and who maintain this Difference, from which they cannot deviate without rendring themselves guilty of Partiality._
_Although there ought to be a great Genius required to Write a History perfectly, it is nevertheless not requisite that a Historian shou'd always make use of all his Wit, nor that he shou'd strain himself, in Nice and Lively Reflexions; 'tis a Fault which is reproach'd with some Justice to_ Cornelius Tacitus, _who is not contented to recount the Feats, but employs the most refin'd Reflexions of Policy to find out the secret Reasons and hidden Causes of Accidents, there is nevertheless a distinction to be made between the Character of the Historian and the Heroe, for if it be the Heroe that speaks, then he ought to express himself Ingeniously, without affecting any Nicety of Points or Syllogisms, because he speaks without any Preparation; but when the Author speaks of his Chief, he may use a more Nice Language, and chuse his Terms for the better expressing his Designs; Moral Reflexions, Maxims and Sentences are more proper in Discourses for Instructions than in Historical Novels, whose chief End if to please; and if we find in them some Instructions, it proceeds rather from their Descriptions than their Precepts._
_An Acute Historian ought to observe the same Method, at the Ending as at the Beginning of his Story, for he may at first expose Maxims relating but a few Feats, but when the End draws nigher, the Curiosity of the Reader is augmented, and he finds in him a Secret Impatience of desiring to see the Discovery of the Action; an Historian that amuses himself by Moralizing or Describing, discourages an Impatient Reader, who is in haste to see the End of Intrigues; he ought also to use a quite different Sort of Stile in the main Part of the Work, than in Conversations, which ought to be writ after an easie and free Manner: Fine Expressions and Elegant Turns agree little to the Stile of Conversation, whose Principal Ornament consists in the Plainness, Simplicity, Free and Sincere Air, which is much to be preferr'd before a great Exactness: We see frequent Examples in Ancient Authors of a Sort of Conversation which seems to clash with Reason; for 'tis not Natural for a Man to entertain himself, for we only speak that we may communicate our Thoughts to others; besides, 'tis hard to comprehend how an Author that relates Word for Word, the like Conversation cou'd be instructed to repeat them with so much Exactness; these Sort of Conversations are much more Impertinent when they run upon strange Subjects, which are not indispensibly allied to the Story handled: If the Conversations are long they indispensibly tire, because they drive from our Sight those People to whom we are engaged, and interrupt the Seque of the Story._
_'Tis an indispensible Necessity to end a Story to satisfie the Disquiets of the Reader, who is engag'd to the Fortunes of those People whose Adventures are described to him; 'tis depriving him of a most delicate Pleasure, when he is hindred from seeing the Event of an Intrigue, which has caused some Emotion in him, whose Discovery he expects, be it either Happy or Unhappy; the chief End of History is to instruct and inspire into Men the Love of Vertue, and Abhorrence of Vice, by the Examples propos'd to them; therefore the Conclusion of a Story ought to have some Tract of Morality which may engage Virtue; those People who have a more refin'd Vertue are not always the most Happy; but yet their Misfortunes excite their Readers Pity, and affects them; although Vice be not always punish'd, yet 'tis describ'd with Reasons which shew its Deformity, and make it enough known to be worthy of nothing but Chastisements._
THE JEWISH SPY:
BEING A
PHILOSOPHICAL, HISTORICAL and CRITICAL _Correspondence,_
_By_ LETTERS
Which lately pass'd between certain _JEWS_ in _Turky, Italy, France, &c._
Translated from the ORIGINALS into _French_,
_By the_ MARQUIS D'ARGENS; _And now done into_ English.
THE SECOND EDITION.
VOL. I.
[Illustration]
_LONDON_:
Printed for D. BROWNE, without _Temple-Bar;_ R. HETT, in the _Poultry_; J. SHUCKBURGH, in _Fleet-street_; J. HODGES, on _London Bridge_; and A. MILLAR, in the _Strand_. M DCC XLIV.
[Illustration]
LETTER XXXV.
AARON MONCECA _to_ ISAAC ONIS, _a Rabbi, at_ Constantinople.
_Paris_----
I still expect the Books from _Amsterdam_; and have writ several times to _Moses Rodrigo_ to press him to send them to me; but to no purpose: He puts me off to the End of the Month, and I shall not be able to send them to _Constantinople_ in less than five Weeks.
I have search'd all the Booksellers Shops at _Paris_ for some choice new Tracts, to add to those which I shall receive from _Holland_, but found nothing good besides what I have already sent thee, except two little. Romances that are lately come out. The first is intitled, _Les Égaremens du Coeur & de l'Esprit_; the Author of which I have already made mention of in my former Letters.[13] He writes in a pure Stile, understands Human Nature, and he lays the Heart of Man open with a great deal of Clearness and Justice: But in this Work he has fallen into an Error, which he has often condemn'd in the Writings of others. He makes it plain to the Reader, that he affects to be witty; and there are some Passages where Nature is sacrificed to the false Glare. But this Error, which is not common, is repair'd by a thousand Beauties. The Author of this Romance paints rather than writes Things; and the Pictures he draws strike the Imagination with Pleasure. Do but consider if it be possible to define the first Surprize of a Heart with more Justness and Clearness. _Without searching into the Motive of my Action, I managed, I interpreted her Looks; I endeavour'd to make her least Motions my Lessons. So much Obstinacy in not losing Sight of her made me at last taken notice of by her. She looked upon me in her turn, I fix'd her without knowing it, and during the Charm with which I was captivated whether I wou'd or not, I know not what my Eyes told her, but she turn'd hers away with a sort of Blush._
None but a Man who was at that Juncture, or had been formerly, in Love cou'd, with so much Truth and Delicacy, have painted all the Motions of the Soul. Genius, Wit, and Learning cannot draw Pictures so much to the Life, it being a Point to which the Heart alone can attain. When I say the Heart, I mean a tender Heart, and one that is in such Situations. The following is the Character of a Prude in Love. _Being not to be depended upon in her Proceedings, she was a perpetual Mixture of Tenderness and Severity: She seem'd to yield only to be the more obstinate in her Opposition. If she thought she had, by what she said, disposed me to entertain any sort of Hopes, being on the Watch how to disappoint me, she presently resum'd that Air which had made me so often tremble, and left me nothing to trust to but a melancholy Uncertainty_. One cannot help being struck with the Truth and Nature which, prevail in this Character. Without an Acquaintance with the World, and a perfect Knowledge of Mankind, 'tis impossible to attain to this Point. 'Tis difficult to distinguish the different Forms, and, as one may say, the internal Motives of different Characters. A mean Writer does only take a Sketch of 'em; but a good Author paints them, sets them plainly in Sight, and exposes them as they really are.
A Romance is consider'd in no other Light than as a Work composed only for Amusement; but something else ought to be the Scope of it: For every Book that has not the Useful as well as the Agreeable, does not deserve the Esteem of good Judges. The Heart ought to be instructed at the same time as the Mind is amused; and this is the Quality with which the greatest Men have render'd their Writings famous.
A Writer who, abounding with bold Fictions and Imaginations, amuses the Readers for a matter of a dozen Volumes with Incidents, work'd up artfully and importantly, and who nevertheless in the Close of his Book entertains his Reader's Imagination with nothing but Rapes, Duels, Sighs, Despair, and Tears[14]; has not the Talent of instructing, nor can he attain to Perfection; for he possesses but the least part of his Art. An Author who pleases without instructing, does not please long; for he sees his Book grow mouldy in the Bookseller's Shop, and his Works have the Fate of sorry Sermons and cold Panegyric.
Heretofore Romances were nothing more than a Rhapsody of tragical Adventures, which captivated the the Imagination and distracted the Heart[15]. 'Twas pleasant enough to read them, but nothing more was got by it than feeding the Mind with Chimæras, which were often hurtful. The Youth greedily swallow'd all the wild and gigantic Ideas of those fabulous Heroes, and when their Genius's were accustomed to enormous Imaginations, they had no longer a Relish for the Probable. For some time past this manner of Thinking has been chang'd: Good Taste is again return'd; the Reasonable has succeeded in the place of the Supernatural; and instead of a Number of Incidents with which the least Facts were overcharg'd, a plain lively Narration is required, such as is supported by Characters that give us the _Utile Dulci_.
Some Authors have wrote in this Taste, and have advanced more or less towards Perfection, in proportion as they have copy'd Nature[16].
There are others who carry Things to Extremity; for, by affecting to appear natural, they become low and creeping, and have neither the Talent of pleasing nor of instructing[17].
Some have had recourse to insipid Allegory[18], thinking to please by a new Taste; but their Works dy'd in their Birth, and were so little read that they escaped Criticism.
If the bad Authors were but to reflect on the Talents and Qualifications necessary for a good Romance, Works of this kind would no longer be their Refuge. A Man who is press'd both by Hunger and Thirst, sets about writing a Book, and tho' he has not Knowledge enough to write History, nor Genius for Works of Morality, he stains a couple of Quires of Paper with a Heap of ill-digested Adventures, which he relates without Taste, and without Genius, and carries his Work to a Bookseller, who, were he oblig'd to buy it by Weight, and to give him but twice the Cost of the Paper, wou'd pay more for it than the Worth of it. Perhaps there is as much need for Wit, an Acquaintance with Mankind, and the Knowledge of the Passions, to compose a Romance as to write a History. The only Qualification to paint Manners and Customs, is a long Experience; and a Man must have examin'd the various Characters very closely, to be able to describe them to a Nicety.
How can an Author, whose common Vocation is staining of Paper, and spending his whole Time in a Coffee-house or in a Garret, give a just Definition of a Prince, a Courtier, or a fine Lady? He never sees those Persons but as he walks the Streets; and I can scarce think that the Mud with which he is often dash'd by their Equipages, communicates to him any Share of their Sentiments. Yet there is not a wretched Author but makes a Duke and Dutchess speak as he fancies. But when a Man of Fashion comes to cast his Eye on these ridiculous Performances, he is perfectly surpriz'd to see the Conversation of _Margaret_ the Hawker, retail'd by the Name of the Dutchess of ----, or the Marchioness of ----. Yet be these Books ever so bad, abundance of 'em are sold; for many People, extravagantly fond of Novelty, who only judge of Things superficially, buy those Works, tho' by the Perusal of 'em they acquire a Taste as remote from a happy Talent of Writing, as the Authors themselves are.
Don't fear, dear _Isaac_, that I shall ever send thee a Collection of such paultry Books. Be a Man ever so fond at _Constantinople_ of Romances and Histories of Gallantry, 'tis expected they should serve not only for Pleasure but for Edification.
The second Book that I have bought, seems to me to be written with this View. 'Tis intitled, _Memoirs of the Marquis_ de Mirmon; _or the Solitary Philosopher_. The Author writes with an easy lively Stile[19]; and 'tis plain, that he himself was acquainted with the Characters which he paints. Without affecting to appear to have as much Wit as the former Author that I mention'd to thee, he delivers the Truth every where in an amiable Dress. If any Fault can be found with him, 'tis explaining himself a little too boldly; and he is also reproach'd with a sort of Negligence pardonable in a Man whose Stile is in general so pure as his is. The following is his Character of Solitude, _'Tis not to torment himself that a wise Man seems to separate himself from Mankind: He is far from imposing new Laws on himself, and only follows those that are already prescrib'd to his Hands. If he lays himself under any new Laws, he reserves to himself the Power of changing them, being their absolute Master, and not their Slave. Being content to cool his Passions, and to govern them by his Reason, he does not imagine it impossible to tame them to his own Fancy, and does not convert what was formerly an innocent Amusement to him, into a Monster to terrify him. He retains in Solitude all the Pleasures which Men of Honour have a Relish for in the World, and only puts it out of their Power of being hurtful, by preventing them from being too violent._
There are several other Passages in this Book, which are as remarkable for their Perspicuity as their Justness. Such is the Description of the Disgust which sometimes attends Marriages. _When Persons are in Love, they put the best Side outwards. A Man who is desirous of pleasing, takes a world of Care to conceal his Defects. A Woman knows still better how to dissemble. Two Persons often study for six Months together to bubble one another, and at last they marry, and punish one another the Remainder of their Lives for their Dissimulation._
You will own, dear _Isaac_, that there is a glaring Truth and Perspicuity in this Character, which strikes the Mind. These naked Thoughts present themselves with Lustre to the Imagination, which cannot help being pleased, because they are so just. If the Authors who write Romances in this new Taste, would always adhere to the Truth, and never suffer themselves to be perverted to any new Mode (for this is what Works of Wit are liable to) their Writings wou'd probably be as useful in forming the Manners as Comedy, because they wou'd render Romances the Picture of Human Life. A covetous Man will therein find himself painted in such natural Colours; a Coquette will therein see her Picture so resembling her, that their Reflection upon reading the Character will be more useful to them than the long-winded Exhortations of a Fryar, who makes himself hoarse with Exclamation, and often tires out the Patience of his Hearers.
Authors who set about writing Romances, ought to study to paint Manners according to Nature, and to expose the most secret Sentiments of the Heart. As their Works are but ingenious Fictions, they can never please otherwise than as they approach to the Probable. Nor is every thing that favours of the Marvellous, esteem'd more among Men of Taste than pure Nonsense. Both generally go together, and the Authors who fall into gigantic or unnatural Ideas, have commonly a declamatory Stile, bordering upon a pompous and unintelligible Diction.
The Stile of Romances ought to be simple; indeed it should be more florid than that of History, but not have all that Energy and Majesty. Gallantry is the Soul of Romance, and Grandeur and Justness that of History. A Person must be very well acquainted with the World to excel in the one, and he must have Learning and Politics to distinguish himself in the other. Good Sense, Perspicuity, Justness of Characters, Truth of Descriptions, Purity of Stile are necessary in both. The Ladies are born Judges of the Goodness of a Romance. Posterity decides the Merit of a History.
Fare thee well, dear _Isaac_. As soon as I have receiv'd the new Books from _Holland_, I will send them to thee.
NOTES:
[13] _Crébillon_ the Son.
[14] _La Calprenede_.
[15] The _Polexandre of Gomberville_, the _Ariana_ of _Des Maretz_, &c.
[16] _Le Prevot d'Exiles_. See the _Bibliotheque des Romans_.
[17] Histoire du Chevalier des _Essars_, & de la Comtesse de _Merci_, &c.
[18] _Fanseredin_, &c.
[19] M. _d'Argens_.
[Illustration]
CLARISSA.
OR, THE
HISTORY
OF A
YOUNG LADY:
Comprehending
_The most_ Important Concerns _of_ Private LIFE, And particularly shewing, The DISTRESSES that may attend the Misconduct Both of PARENTS and CHILDREN, In Relation to MARRIAGE.
_Published by the_ EDITOR _of_ PAMELA.
VOL. IV.
[Illustration]
_LONDON:_
Printed for S. Richardson: And Sold by JOHN OSBORN, in _Pater-noster Row_; ANDREW MILLAR, over-against _Catharine-street_ in the _Strand_; J. and JA. RIVINGTON, in _St. Paul's Church-yard_; And by J. LEAKE, at _Bath_
M.DCC.XLVIII.
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THE EDITOR _to the_ READER.
If it may be thought reasonable to criticise the Public Taste, in what are generally supposed to be Works of mere Amusement; or modest to direct its Judgment, in what is offered for its Entertainment; I would beg leave to introduce the following Sheets with a few cursory Remarks, that may lead the common Reader into some tolerable conception of the nature of this Work, and the design of its Author.
The close connexion which every Individual has with all that relates to MAN in general, strongly inclines us to turn our observation upon human affairs, preferably to other attentions, and impatiently to wait the progress and issue of them. But, as the course of human
## actions is too slow to gratify our inquisitive curiosity, observant
men very easily contrived to satisfy its rapidity, by the invention of _History_. Which, by recording the principal circumstances of past facts, and laying them close together, in a continued narration, kept the mind from languishing, and gave constant exercise to its reflections.
But as it commonly happens, that in all indulgent refinements on our satisfactions, the Procurers to our pleasures run into excess; so it happened here. Strict matters of fact, how delicately soever dressed up, soon grew too simple and insipid to a taste stimulated by the Luxury of Art: They wanted something of more poignancy to quicken and enforce a jaded appetite. Hence the Original of the first barbarous _Romances_, abounding with this false provocative of uncommon, extraordinary, and miraculous Adventures.
But satiety, in things unnatural, soon, brings on disgust. And the Reader, at length, began to see, that too eager a pursuit after _Adventures_ had drawn him from what first engaged his attention, MAN _and his Ways_, into the Fairy Walks of Monsters and Chimeras. And now those who had run farthest after these delusions, were the first that recovered themselves. For the next Species of Fiction, which took its name from its _novelty_, was of _Spanish_ invention. These presented us with something of Humanity; but of Humanity in a stiff unnatural state. For, as every thing before was conducted by _Inchantment_; so now all was managed by _Intrigue_. And tho' it had indeed a kind of _Life_, it had yet, as in its infancy, nothing of _Manners_. On which account, those, who could not penetrate into the ill constitution of its plan, yet grew disgusted at the dryness of the Conduct, and want of ease in the Catastrophe.
The avoiding these defects gave rise to the _Heroical Romances_ of the _French_; in which some celebrated Story of antiquity was so stained and polluted by modern fable and invention, as was just enough to shew, that the contrivers of them neither knew how to lye, nor speak truth. In these voluminous extravagances, _Love_ and _Honour_ supplied the place of _Life_ and _Manners_. But the over-refinement of Platonic sentiments always sinks into the dross and feces of that Passion. For in attempting a more natural representation of it, in the little amatory Novels, which succeeded these heavier Volumes, tho' the Writers avoided the dryness of the Spanish Intrigue, and the extravagance of the French Heroism, yet, by too natural a representation of their Subject, they opened the door to a worse evil than a corruption of _Taste_; and that was, A corruption of _Heart_.
At length, this great People (to whom, it must be owned, all Science has been infinitely indebted) hit upon the true Secret, by which alone a deviation from strict fact, in the commerce of Man, could be really entertaining to an improved mind, or useful to promote that Improvement. And this was by a faithful and chaste copy of real _Life and Manners_: In which some of their late Writers have greatly excelled.
It was on this sensible Plan, that the Author of the following Sheets attempted to please, in an Essay, which had the good fortune to meet with success: That encouragement engaged him in the present Design: In which his sole object being _Human Nature_; he thought himself at liberty to draw a Picture of it in that light which would shew it with most strength of Expression; tho' at the expense of what such as read merely for Amusement, may fancy can be ill-spared, the more artificial composition of a story in one continued Narrative.
He has therefore told his Tale in a Series of Letters, supposed to be written by the Parties concerned, as the circumstances related, passed. For this juncture afforded him the only natural opportunity that could be had, of representing with any grace those lively and delicate impressions which _Things present_ are known to make upon the minds of those affected by them. And he apprehends, that, in the study of Human Nature, the knowlege of those apprehensions leads us farther into the recesses of the Human Mind, than the colder and more general reflections suited to a continued and more contracted Narrative.
This is the nature and purport of his Attempt. Which, perhaps, may not be so well or generally understood. For if the Reader seeks here for Strange Tales, Love Stories, Heroical Adventures, or, in short, for anything but a _Faithful Picture of Nature_ in _Private Life_, he had better be told beforehand the likelihood of his being disappointed. But if he can find Use or Entertainment; either _Directions for his Conduct_, or _Employment for his Pity_, in a HISTORY _of_ LIFE _and_ MANNERS, where, as in the World itself, we find Vice, for a time, triumphant, and Virtue in distress, an idle hour or two, we hope, may not be unprofitably lost.
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MEMOIRS
OF THE
_Count_ Du BEAUVAL,
INCLUDING
Some curious PARTICULARS
Relating to the DUKES of
Wharton _and_ Ormond,
During their Exiles.
WITH
ANECDOTES of several other Illustrious and Unfortunate Noblemen of the present Age.
_Translated from the_ French _of the Marquis_ D'ARGENS, _Author of_ The Jewish Letters.
_By Mr._ DERRICK.
_LONDON:_
Printed for M. COOPER, at the _Globe_ in _PaterNoster-Row_.
M.DCC.LIV.
PREFACE.
_The Ground-work of Romances, till of late Years, has been a Series of Actions, few of which, ever existed but in the Mind of the Author; to support which, with proper Spirit, a strong picturesque Fancy, and a nervous poetical Diction, were necessary. When these great Essentials were wanting, the Narration became cold, insipid, and disagreeable._
_The principal Hero was generally one who fac'd every Danger, without any Reflection, for it was always beneath him to think; it was a sufficient Motive of persisting, if there seem'd Peril; conquering Giants, and dissolving Enchantments, were as easy to him as riding. He commonly sets out deeply in Love; his Mistress is a Virgin, he loses her in the Beginning of the Book, thro' the Spite or Craft of some malicious Necromancer, pursues her thro' a large Folio Volume of Incredibility, and finds her, indisputably, at the End of it, like try'd Gold, still more charming, from having pass'd the Fire Ordeal of Temptation._
_Amusement and Instruction were the Intent of these Sort of Writings; the former they always fulfill'd, and if they sometimes fail'd in the latter, it was because the Objects they conjur'd up to Fancy, were merely intellectual Ideas, consequently not capable of impressing so deeply as those which are to be met with in the Bustle of Life._
_Hence those, whose Genius led them to cultivate this Sort of writing, have been induc'd to examine amongst such Scenes as are daily found to move beneath their Inspection. On this Plan are founded the Writings of the celebrated Mons._ MARIVAUX, _and the Performances of the ingenious Mr_. FIELDING; _each of whom are allow'd to be excellent in their different Nations._
_The Marquis_ D'ARGENS, _sensible of the Advantages accruing from Works of this Kind, was not satisfied with barely copying the_ Accidents, _but has also united with them the real Names of_ Persons, _who have been remarkable in Life; conscious that we pay a more strict Attention to the Occurrences that have befallen those who enter within the Compass of our Acquaintance, or Knowledge, and if a Moral ensues from the Relation, it is more firmly rooted in the Mind, than when it is to be deduced from either Manners or Men, with whom we are entirely unacquainted._
_The Marquis is easy in his Stile, delicate in his Sentiments, and not at all tedious in his Narration. In the following Piece we find Nothing heavy or insipid, he dwells not too long upon any Adventure, nor does he burthen the Memory, or clog the Attention with Reflections intended, too often more for the Bookseller's Emolument, in swelling the Bulk of the Performance, than the Service of the Reader, on whom he knew it to be otherwise an Imposition; since, by long-winded wearisome Comments upon every Passage (a Fault too frequent in many Writers) he takes from him an Opportunity of exercising his reflective Abilities, seeming thereby to doubt them_.
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PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
FIRST YEAR (1946-47)
Numbers 1-4 out of print.
5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693).
6. _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704) and _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704).
SECOND YEAR (1947-1948)
7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702).
8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684).
9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736).
10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, etc._ (1744).
11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717).
12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood Krutch.
THIRD YEAR (1948-1949)
13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720).
14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753).
15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_ (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ (1712).
16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673).
17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespeare_ (1709).
18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719); and Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).
FOURTH YEAR (1949-1950)
19. Susanna Centlivre's _The Busie Body_ (1709).
20. Lewis Theobold's _Preface to The Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).
21. _Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela_ (1754).
22. Samuel Johnson's _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749) and Two _Rambler_ papers (1750).
23. John Dryden's _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).
24. Pierre Nicole's _An Essay on True and Apparent Beauty in Which from Settled Principles is Rendered the Grounds for Choosing and Rejecting Epigrams_, translated by J.V. Cunningham.
FIFTH YEAR (1950-51)
25. Thomas Baker's _The Fine Lady's Airs_ (1709).
26. Charles Macklin's _The Man of the World_ (1792).
27. Frances Reynolds' _An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Taste, and of the Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty, etc._ (1785).
28. John Evelyn's _An Apologie for the Royal Party_ (1659); and _A Panegyric to Charles the Second_ (1661).
29. Daniel Defoe's _A Vindication of the Press_ (1718).
30. Essays on Taste from John Gilbert Cooper's _Letters Concerning Taste_, 3rd edition (1757), & John Armstrong's _Miscellanies_ (1770).
31. Thomas Gray's _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard_ (1751); and _The Eton College Manuscript_.