Prefaces to Four Seventeenth-Century Romances

A PREFACE TO THE READER, CONCERNING The Design of this Book

IT is justly esteemed by those which know themselves, as the onely work that is worthy of wise men, so to employ their better faculties and improve their time, that at last they may obtain an End, in which they may rejoyce eternally: After a sincere intention of this End, to prosecute it with a constant use of fit means, is the Character of a Prudent and Good man. Those which govern not their life by this Principle, do either suffer themselves to be benum’d with Idleness, or abuse the activity of their Souls in some vain employment.

The first of these two out of their great love to do nothing, can make no better wish for themselves, then that they might sleep out the other half of their time; and it is rationall to do so, if his Rule were good for any thing, who said, He values his life at a just rate, who would be content to forgoe it for a Dream.

The other make their bargain but a little better; for whilest they entertain themselves with things which correspond not with the Dignity of Reasonable Souls, instead of perfecting those rare Capacities with which their Natures are invested, by a generous endeavour to obtain that Happiness which God doth not envy us, they lessen themselves, clip the wings of their Souls, and bring them down from those degrees of Excellency which they actually enjoy, and make them degenerate into a brutish incapacity, though many times they take no notice of the weakness of their judgements: till they meet it in the miserable Consequences of their Actions.

It is not my purpose here to reckon up all the impertinencies of Mankind, which are the several instances of the forementioned folly, I would onely give a charitable notice of one, viz. the VVriting and Reading of Romances. This I put into the number, because for the most part it is verified in them what Justin Martyr said of Homers Poetry, Ἔστι γαρ ἡ πᾶσα ῥαψῳδία Ἰλιάδος τε καὶ Ὀδυσσείας, ἀρχὴ καὶ τέλος, γυνὴ, i.e. The whole Rhapsody of Homers Iliads and Odysseis, beginning and end, is but a VVoman. Yet they dote so much upon that subject, that they think with those amorous Trojans, that Helen was not onely worthy of all the labours of Homers Quill, but also of the sharp contentions of the Greek and Trojan swords.

She was a brave Woman indeed, and it was but fit that so many Gallant men should destroy one another in the Revenge and Defence of her Adultery. But Maximus Tyrius in his 15th. Dissertation doth justly reprove the folly of their opinion, and condemn the unreasonablenesse of that lavish praise.

I am not ignorant that Homer wrote upon another design, then to tell so many tales of Helen and Paris, and that Horace hath said in his Commendation,

It may be so; for though Chrysippus was so great a man, that he was esteemed the onely support of the Stoick School, according to the Proverbiall speech recorded by Diogenes Laertius, Εἰ μὴ γὰρ ἦν Χρύσιππος, οὐκ ἂν ἦν Στοά. Yet quite contrary to the vertuous design of prudent Socrates, he spoil’d the Docrine of good manners, and unwisely changed the substiantiall precepts of a morall life for the uselesse subtilties of nice disputation. Or what if Crantor, whom he yokes with him in the disparagement, made no great proficiency either by Plato, to whose School he belonged, or Homer himself, who was his delight? For all this fair verdict, which Horace hath passed in favour of his Brother Poet, the Morall Vertues, which so highly concern the felicity of the World, ought to be discours’d in another manner then he useth; for he, as it may be said also of other Romancers, hath made the fabulous rind so thick, that few can see through it into the usefull sense. I do not deny what Plutarch saies, that his Verses were not written onely for pleasure, ὰλλὰ γαρ βαθύτερός εστι τους ενκεκρυμμενους τοις επεσι, i.e. but that a deeper meaning is hid under his Poems; but he hath sunk it so deep, that very few can come at it. And some of those who applaud him for a Philosopher, confesse that such onely can make a gain of him, that have already attain’d a mature judgement by long study; that is, such may possibly learn of him, who are able to teach him: But he is so unfit for others, that Plato desired they might not see him, ἱνα μη μυθους οιησοιντο γραφειν τον Ἡρωα, i.e. for fear they should think that the Hero wrote fables, which he had good reason to expect upon the perusall.

Besides this, as many others do, he hath so form’d the representations of Vertue and Vice, that it is hard to say, which is commended and which reproved; whil’st the Gods are frequently brought in practising Immoralities, he doth at least equall Vice to Vertue, and nourish that which he should eradicate. For, why should men endeavour to be better then their Gods? So he in the Comedy made the Adultery of Jupiter an apology for his lust.

By these and such like instances the Greek Fathers did convince the Heathens of the imperfection of their best Authors. So one may perceive in some Romances of a later date, that the pictures of Heroes, which they have drawn far exact patterns of the most rais’d vertue are often blotted with notorious defects, as Impatience, Revenge, and the like.

But this sort of Books is most to be blamed, because for the greater part, as I said before, their chief Design is to put fleshly Lust into long stories, and sometimes not without very unhandsome mixtures, tending onely to the service of brutish Concupiscence, the nourishment of dishonorable affections, and by exciting in the Readers muddy fancies, to indispose them for their attendance upon God by their better part. For some such reason, I suppose, the great Sidney before his death charg’d his friend Sir Fulk Grevill, who had the onely Copy of his Arcadia, that he should never permit it to be made publick.

The other pieces, which fill up the intervalls of the story, and grace it with pleasing varieties, are commonly frivolous devices of wit in some contemptible matter, and serve but to some such slight purpose, as doth the writing of Verses in the form of an Egge or Hatchet, where the measures of words and sense are constrain’d to suite with the odde proportions of such figures. These are fine rarities of no use, the intertexture of the by-accidents being as triviall as the principall Design.

’Tis true, some of these Authors written in divers Languages, are applauded for the Elegancy of each particular Tongue, and are here and there interspers’d with good Sentences: but they are so deeply infected with noisome words, immodest Tales and Discourses, which do fatally corrupt the manners of Youth, that I cannot but assent to the Opinion of many wise men, who judge them, for all that, well worthy of the fire. Neither do I think it improper to use the words, which the old Sages of Troy silently mutter’d, when they perceived the dangers which attended the beauty of Helen, which the young men extoll’d as equall to that of the heavenly Goddesses.

I could easily name them, but that Labour is needless to such as know books: and to those which do not, I ought not, by making a Catalogue, to give notice of such as I could wish burnt. If they were, they would not be greatly miss’d, as to that propriety of speech unto which they lay claim, and for which they are magnified by their Readers; because the best Languages used in the world, may as well be learn’d from Authors that are as Elegant as Chaste.

For these reasons I think the Noble Mountaigne gave a great proof of his early wisdome, in that, as he saies, Quant aux Amadis, et telles sortes d’escrits, ils n’ont pas eu le credit d’arrester seulement mon enfance, i.e. Amadis and such like trash of VVriting; had not so much credit with him, as to allure his youth to delight in them. And upon the same considerations one may well judge some Excellent Wits thrown away in writing great stories of Nothing; and that others lose their unvaluable Time whilst they reade them. And the rather, because, besides the direct losse, they leave the Memory so full of fantasticall images of things which are not, that they cannot easily dismisse them: the Fancy being held in the amusement of those foolish Dreames, as we are in Sleep with the various representations of severall things, which never were nor will be in such Ridiculous Conjunctions. And when the Reader considers how prettily he hath abused himself, yet cannot he presently dispossesse his fancy of those vain Imaginations which he hath entertain’d, but is still haunted with them, and much indispos’d in Mind for more worthy Considerations; as troublesome Dreams often leave the Body not so well affected.

There is no doubt but that most Readers of such things, ingenuously examining what beneficiall use they could make of the gains reaped from their Studies, would find themselves hard put to it to name a better then the Great VVit was forc’d to, who said, when he thought to retire from his Extravagancies, and to repose his wearied Spirit, and it still pester’d him with an orderlesse rabble of troublesome Chimæras, he resolv’d to keep a Register of them, hoping by that meanes one day to make it asham’d, and blush at it self.

It is no wonder that these Fooleries are not easily thrown off, because of that deep impression which they make upon the affectionate part, through the cunning inveglements of Fancy. For men having indulg’d Imagination, and play’d carelesly with its Fantasms, unawares take vehement pleasure in things which they do not believe, and weep for such inconsiderable reasons, that afterward they laugh at themselves for it, and read Fables with such affections, as if their own or their friends best interest were wrapp’d up in them. What strong Expectation have they for the Issue of a doubtfull Design? How unsatisfied are they till the End of a paper-Combate? What fears possesse them for the Knight whose part they take? How passionately are they delighted with the Description of a Castle built in the aire? How ravish’d upon the conceit of Beauties which owe themselves only to the paint which came out of the Poets Ink-pot? How are they taken with pleasure and sorrow for the good and bad success of the Romantick Lovers? They are apt also to draw to themselves or their friends such things as they read in far-fetch’d references: if the resemblances suite in some little points, they seem to do and suffer such things; and what fits not they endeavour to patch up with some feign’d coherency.

But if in the midst of this busie Idlenesse they would admit a severe consideration of more important duties neglected the while, a few disentangled thoughts would rout the Troop of their fond Imaginations.

Some peradventure not altogether satisfied with that which I have said, may reply, What, then is Fancy uselesse? Is it not one of the naturall faculties of the Soul? Were any of them made to no purpose? Is there any more proper entertainment for it then the Conceit and Language of a well-form’d Romance? Many books, which pretend to declare better matters to us, do it so jejunely, that it is a work of more then ordinary patience to give them the reading; and we are put into a doubt, whether or no those who wrote them did intend any should make use of their Understandings in the perusall of them, or whether they were able to give that which others would expect as a reasonable satisfaction. Besides, we perceive many Books of grave Titles so afflicted with Disputes about troublesome niceties and trifling Capriccio’s, that wise persons find the books as little of kin to their Names, as the Contents are of small Furtherance to their best Concernments.

To these things I answer; Fancy is not uselesse, and may as lawfully be gratified with excellent forms of Invention, as the Eye may entertain it self with the Beauty of well-plac’d Colours, or the Sense of Smelling please it self with the odours of a delicious Rose. But though it be a Naturall Faculty, yet it is under discipline of the Supreme Governesse of Soul and Body, Reason; and when it wanders without its Keeper, out-staying its time in allowed diversions, or transgressing the limits of such Subjects as sound Judgement permits, it returns abus’d with hurtfull delight, and instead of being us’d decently, is unworthily prostituted: in whose behalf the Rationall Guide, which is not farre off, will take notice and complain, as it doth often, and whip the Vagrant, and not spare to reproach it with the cheap reward of foolish recreation, for the enjoyment of which she mispent the time which she took from her Prayers, and, it may be, for the reading of an Idle Story neglected the Examination of her Conscience; and afterward is made to understand that the same pleasure which was pretended to be sought abroad, is to be found at Home. For Reason is no such severe Mistresse as to detain us with Awe that is void of Love and Joy; but besides the solid Complacencies of Vertue, allows also the chearfull entertainments of Wit and Fancy. There are Books good store where Truths of greatest Importance are presented neither besmeared with loathsome Nonsence, nor blended with unprofitable Disputes, which adde nothing to Religion, but trouble and darknesse, and where Excellent sense and good words offer themselves in such lovely Embraces, that they are a perfect content to all beholders but such as cannot Fancy, Understand and Love. Wit and ability of mind do so shine in many Religious Discourses, that we cannot justly make that pretended defect an Excuse for our deferring of sober studies. Now God forbid that we should think his Gifts so imprudently thrown amongst men, that none should be able to get them that would use them to the adorning of that which most deserves it, Vertue; which, though by reason of its innate beauty it least needs any adventitious ornament, yet doth not scorn the light vaile of Romance, if it be of that fashion which I shall by and by describe.

It were a thing to be wondred at, that by many nothing is esteem’d witty, except Poetry and Romances, but that want of Judgement doth notoriously discover it self in those persons who are highly pleas’d with pittifull things. Divers of their admired Authors are so empty of true worth, that if the entire sense of their books were summ’d up, it would onely amount to some small matter as triviall as uselesse: And if most of them, whether Antient or Modern, were examined with a Judicious Eye, they would appear to be full of the grossest Indecorum’s of Invention, as odious misrepresentations of Divinity, unnaturall Descriptions of Humane Life, Improper and Prophane Allusions to Sacred Things, frequent and palpable Contradictions, Sottish stories, and in short, all the absurdities of wild Imagination. I need not verifie this by bringing together those great multitudes of Instances which abound in that sort of books written in the Greek, Latin, Italian and French Languages. If any desire, they may see it done largely in the Extravagant Shepheard, especially in the Speech of Clarimond in the 13th. book, not long since translated by Mr. Davies.

For my own part I do not desire that all books should be as dull as many are, and none compos’d, as all are not, to delight; but I would have that delight true, and the quicknesse not evaporate into Lightnesse and Vanity. Is there no joy but laughter? Doth nothing recreate but what is fabulous? Such as do not like true happinesse, because it is a serious thing, have a reasonable Soul bestowed upon them in vain, and would have been better pleas’d if God had made them worse, and more content if God had not design’d them to so Noble an End. But those which like nothing except what goes in a plain Rode of talk, may as reasonably desire every body to spell, when they read. Such as would not have Truth presented in ingenious Schemes of Discourse, do foolishly condemn the wisdom of the Antients, some of which we may not reprove without a kind of Blasphemy: and whilst they understand not the Excellent use of Apologues, Parables, and such like Modes of signification, they are sufficiently answer’d by the Confession of their own Ignorance. There are severall spirits in the World; some will take a thing one way, that will not another. A Physitian will not wisely quarrell with his Patient, because he refuseth to take the Pill unlesse it be guilded. There are also some persons that need to have some things told them, which because they are guarded with the stately Circumstance of Worldly Quality, one cannot so easily come near them as in a Disguise.

There are some brave minds, in whom Riches of Conceit are attended with incomparable Expression: and Truth is not unwilling to be dress’d by such; and those which revile them for their paines, are justly abhorr’d for their Envy, or pitied for their Ignorance. Its a mischief that distresses most little Capacities, impotently to desire that all others should be constituted after their size; and having passionately, but foolishly, wish’d such a thing a great while, at last they begin to believe that what they desire is so indeed.

It is an ungratefull folly and a pride to be laugh’d at, when men are unwilling that others should endeavour to further their Good, because they gave them not leave to prescribe them the way for doing of it: but they should consider, that there may be such in the world which understand that which themselves do not, and are delighted with such things as they contemn.

But some that mean well, and think they are not mistaken in the sense of their proposition, humbly desire that those Excellent Wits would lay their design of Romance deeper then the Shallows of Fancy; that so the Reader may not stick upon every Shelf of Fiction, and that the streams of Wit be made navigable for the Importation of such Wisdom as is necessary for our best life. The design to please is then as well accomplished; but not terminating in the surface of Recreation, it is improv’d into a higher advantage of those nobler faculties which God hath given us.

They think also that the Way to this End is miss’d, when the Authors account their Contrivance poor, unless they can sail under water too. As when there is no morall design of making men better, the Work is done but by the Halves, as we say: so if that lie under ground in such deep conceits as but few can dive into the bottom of them, their labour is so far only not lost, as that some who are more ingenious will take the pains to understand what they meant.

To conclude, I have not all this while spoke my own Hopes concerning what I have perform’d in this work, but my wishes were hearty that it might neither displease nor be unprofitable. Whereas I have in severall places reprov’d some things frequently found amongst Men, I only plead, that since they make no scruple of acting unworthily, I though: I might much more justly take liberty to talk of it. And since you have had the patience to be acquainted with what I would have done, if any body be pleas’d with that which is written, I shall not be discouraged, but if they be profited too, then I shall think that I have not laboured in vain.

SUCH AN ACCOUNT Of the following BOOK, Sent with it to a FRIEND; As may serve instead of a PREFACE

To convince you, Sir, how much more I am concern’d to have you think, I can Obey well, than Write well; I venture to send you the Account, (as imperfect and unpolish’d as it is) that you are pleas’d to command Of the last Hours of Theodora. But I must beg your leave to accompany it with another Account (though but a short one) how I came to meddle with this Subject; and why what I present you about it, is so much Maim’d, and has no more Uniformity.

Having had occasion many years ago to turn over a Martyrology, and some other Books, that related to the Sufferings of the Primitive Christians; I chanc’d to light on those of a Virgin, who, though (to my wonder) she was left unnam’d by the other Writers that mentioned her, seem’d plainly to be the same, that is by one of them expresly call’d Theodora: I own, I was not a little affected, at the reading of such moving and uncommon adventures as hers: and finding her story to be related, by the Author that nam’d both her and her Lover, not only very succinctly and imperfectly, but very dully too; I found my self tempted so to enlarge this Story, as that it might be contriv’d into a somewhat voluminous Romance: But upon second thoughts, it appeared incongruous to turn a Martyr into a Nymph or an Amazon: And I consider’d too, that (to omit what else might be objected against that sort of Composures) as true Pearls are Cordials and Antidotes, which counterfeit ones, how fine soever they may appear, are not; so True Examples do arm and fortify the mind far more efficaciously, than Imaginary or Fictitious ones can do; and the fabulous labours of Hercules, and Exploits of Arthur of Britain, will never make men aspire to Heroick Vertue half so powerfully, as the real Examples of Courage and Gallantry afforded by Jonathan Cæsar, or the Black Prince. But yet, thinking it great pity, that so shining a Vertue as Theodora’s should prove Exemplary, but to her own time, and to one City; and remembring, that soon after the Age which she Ennobl’d, it was counted among the Primitive Christians an act of Piety, to build fair Monuments, upon the formerly abject Graves of the Martyrs; to repay, by Honours done to their Memories, the indignities and Disgraces they had suffer’d in their Persons; I thought fit to try, if I could rescue from more unskilful Hands than even mine, a story that abundantly deserv’d to be well told.

But upon further thoughts, I soon foresaw, that this Task was not more worthy to be undertaken, than it would prove difficult to be well perform’d: For the Martyrologist having allow’d scarce one whole Page, to a Relation, that perhaps merited a Volume, had left so many Chasms, and so many necessary things unmentioned, that I plainly perceiv’d, I wanted a far greater number of Circumstances, than that he had supply’d me with to make up so maim’d a story tolerably compleat. And as the Relation deny’d me matter enough to work upon, so the nature of the Subject refus’d most of those Imbellishments which in other Themes, where young Gallants and fair Ladies are the chief Actors, are wont to supply the deficiences of the matter. Besides, my task was not near so easie as it would have been, if I had been only to recite the Intrigues of an Amour, with the liberty to feign surprizing adventures, to adorn the Historical part of the account, and to make a Lover speak as Passionately as I could, and his Mistress as Kindly as the indulgentest laws of decency would permit. But I was to introduce a Christian and pious Lover, who was to contain the expressions of his Flame within the narrow bounds of his Religion; and a Virgin, who, being as modest and discreet as handsom, and as devout as either, was to own an high Esteem for an excellent Lover, and an uncommon Gratitude to a transcendent Benefactor, without intrenching either upon her Vertue, or her Reservedness. And I perceiv’d the difficulty of my Task would be encreas’d, by that of Reconciling Theodora’s Scrupulousness to the humours of some young Persons of Quality of either Sex, who were earnest to engage my Pen on this occasion, and would expect that I should make Theodora more kind, than I thought her great Piety and strict Modesty would permit. But for all this; the esteem I had for the fair Martyrs Excellencies, and the compliance I had for those that desir’d to receive an account of so rare a Persons actions and Sufferings, made me resolve to try what I could do. Which I adventur’d upon with the less Reluctancy, because, though I esteem’d it a kind of Profaneness, to transform a piece of Martyrology into a Romance; yet I thought it allowable enough, where a Narrative was written so concisely, and left so unperfect, as That I had to descant upon; to make such supplements of Circumstances, as were not improbable in the nature of the thing, and were little less than necessary to the clearness and entireness of the Story, and the decent connection of the parts it should consist of. I suppos’d too, that I needed not scruple, to lend Speeches to the Persons I brought upon the Stage, provided they were suitable to the Speakers, and Occasions; since I was warranted by the Examples of Livy, Plutarch, and other Grave and Judicious Historians, who make no scruple to give us set Orations, of their own framing, and sometimes put them into the mouths of Generals at the head of their Armies, just going to give Battel: though at such times the hurry and distraction that both they and their Auditors must be in, must make it very unlikely, either that they should make elaborate Speeches, or their Hearers mind and remember them well enough to repeat them to the Historians.