Preface to the Third Edition
[1822]
IT WOULD BE affectation to retain in this edition of our book, a preface, that professes to doubt of its favourable reception; we find ourselves, therefore, compelled to write something new.
We are told by the Booksellers, that the public is pleased with the tale, and we take this occasion to say, that we are delighted with the public. We hope that this reciprocity of good-will may continue.
Many people think, that as the United States is, in the way of works of fiction, untrodden ground, it is a fine field for the pen of an author. We can only speak of it as we have found it. It is true, that we are a people composed of emigrants from every country of the Christian world:—but they did not come here by chance, nor do they stay here through necessity. They emigrated to improve their temporal conditions and they remain, because they have been successful. When men assemble with such commendable intentions, and under circumstances that afford a just ground for hope, whatever is peculiar in customs, is soon merged in the expedients, which the most ingenious invent for their mutual benefit. It is a general remark amongst travellers, that, contrary to their expectations, they find less originality of character in this country than in England. They make the comparison with England, because we are parts of the same people; and the surprise is occasioned, that so unexpected a result should proceed from the extraordinary freedom of our government. If by originality they mean oddness and eccentricity, the observation is just; but if invention, quickness to remedy evils, and boldness of thought be intended, it is wrong.
Common sense is the characteristic of the American people: it is the foundation of their institutions; it pervades society, bringing the high and the low near to each other: it tempers our religion, yielding that indulgence to each other’s weakness, which should follow the mandates of God; it wears down the asperities of character—but it ruins the beau ideal.
The difficulty is only increased in works of fiction that are founded on the customs of America, when a writer attempts to engraft the scions of the imagination, on the stock of history. The plant is too familiar to the senses, and the freshness of the exotic is tarnished by the connexion. This very book will, probably, be cited as an instance of the fallacy of this opinion. We wish that we could think so. “The Spy” was introduced at a happy moment, and the historical incidents were but little known, at the same time that they were capable of deep interest; but, so far as well known characters are concerned, we have been assailed with every variety of criticism, from the cock of a hat to the colour of a horse.
Besides the familiarity of the subject, there is a scarcity of events, and a poverty in the accompaniments, that drives an author from the undertaking in despair. In the dark ages of our history, it is true that we hung a few unfortunate women for witches, and suffered some inroads from the Indians; but the active curiosity of the people has transmitted those events with so much accuracy, that there is no opportunity for digression.—Then, again, notwithstanding that a murder is at all times a serious business, it is much more interesting in a castle, than in a corn field. In short, all that glow, which can be given to a tale, through the aid of obscure legends, artificial distinctions, and images connected with the association of the ideas, is not attainable in this land of facts. Man is not the same creature here as in other countries. He is more fettered by reason and less by laws, than in any other section of the globe; consequently, while he enjoys a greater political liberty, he is under a greater moral restraint than his European brother.
We cannot suffer this edition of “The Spy” to appear, without saying a few words in our own justification. While the book was in press we consulted, with a few friends, on the subject of abandoning it entirely, under the apprehension of losing by its publication. We were persuaded to persevere, as it was urged that “Precaution” had received a respectful notice from a few English periodicals and newspapers, and it was thought its author would be secure from loss. Could we have found a Bookseller who would have given enough for the work to pay the scribe, we might have been tempted to dispose of the copy-right—but none offered. With such a prospect before us, we continued to write by the way of amusement, and because we were committed by an advertisement; but it was with an indifference and carelessness that were somewhat disrespectful to the public, and unjust to ourselves. Were we to relate the disadvantages under which “The Spy” was written and printed, we should only gain credit with some four or five to whom we are intimately known; but after our unexpected introduction to the American public, we must add, that it was printed as it was written; that it was printed with a very superficial revision of the press—the second edition without a proof-sheet coming out of the office; and that it was published without a hope of success. We should have been above stating these facts with a view to disarm criticism; but, after the reception that has been bestowed on our work, we present them by way of apology.