_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 t.i.tle 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 Pa.s.sions, 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 Pa.s.sions; 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 Pa.s.sions, 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 Pa.s.sions, 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 Princ.i.p.al 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_ Sal.u.s.t, _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 Princ.i.p.al 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 Chastis.e.m.e.nts._

THE JEWISH SPY:

BEING A

PHILOSOPHICAL, HISTORICAL and CRITICAL _Correspondence,_

_By_ LETTERS

Which lately pa.s.s'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.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_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.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LETTER x.x.xV.

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 int.i.tled, _Les egaremens 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 Pa.s.sages 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 Amus.e.m.e.nt; 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 Chimaeras, 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 Pa.s.sions, 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 int.i.tled, _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 Pa.s.sions, 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 Amus.e.m.e.nt 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 Pa.s.sages 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 l.u.s.tre 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 hoa.r.s.e 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] _Crebillon_ 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_.