Count Fathom, part 1 | Page 5

was
the fate of a late ingenious author [the Author of the "Seasons"], who
was so often put to the blush for the undeserved incense he had offered
in the heat of an enthusiastic disposition, misled by popular applause,
that he had resolved to retract, in his last will, all the encomiums which
he had thus prematurely bestowed, and stigmatise the unworthy by
name--a laudable scheme of poetical justice, the execution of which
was fatally prevented by untimely death.
Whatever may have been the fate of other dedicators, I, for my own
part, sit down to write this address, without any apprehension of
disgrace or disappointment; because I know you are too well convinced
of my affection and sincerity to repine at what I shall say touching your

character and conduct. And you will do me the justice to believe, that
this public distinction is a testimony of my particular friendship and
esteem.
Not that I am either insensible of your infirmities, or disposed to
conceal them from the notice of mankind. There are certain foibles
which can only be cured by shame and mortification; and whether or
not yours be of that species, I shall have the comfort to think my best
endeavours were used for your reformation.
Know then, I can despise your pride, while I honour your integrity, and
applaud your taste, while I am shocked at your ostentation.--I have
known you trifling, superficial, and obstinate in dispute; meanly jealous
and awkwardly reserved; rash and haughty in your resentments; and
coarse and lowly in your connexions. I have blushed at the weakness of
your conversation, and trembled at the errors of your conduct--yet, as I
own you possess certain good qualities, which overbalance these
defects, and distinguish you on this occasion as a person for whom I
have the most perfect attachment and esteem, you have no cause to
complain of the indelicacy with which your faults are reprehended. And
as they are chiefly the excesses of a sanguine disposition and looseness
of thought, impatient of caution or control, you may, thus stimulated,
watch over your own intemperance and infirmity with redoubled
vigilance and consideration, and for the future profit by the severity of
my reproof.
These, however, are not the only motives that induce me to trouble you
with this public application. I must not only perform my duty to my
friends, but also discharge the debt I owe to my own interest. We live
in a censorious age; and an author cannot take too much precaution to
anticipate the prejudice, misapprehension, and temerity of malice,
ignorance, and presumption.
I therefore think it incumbent upon me to give some previous
intimation of the plan which I have executed in the subsequent
performance, that I may not be condemned upon partial evidence; and
to whom can I with more propriety appeal in my explanation than to
you, who are so well acquainted with all the sentiments and emotions

of my breast?
A novel is a large diffused picture, comprehending the characters of life,
disposed in different groups, and exhibited in various attitudes, for the
purposes of an uniform plan, and general occurrence, to which every
individual figure is subservient. But this plan cannot be executed with
propriety, probability, or success, without a principal personage to
attract the attention, unite the incidents, unwind the clue of the
labyrinth, and at last close the scene, by virtue of his own importance.
Almost all the heroes of this kind, who have hitherto succeeded on the
English stage, are characters of transcendent worth, conducted through
the vicissitudes of fortune, to that goal of happiness, which ever ought
to be the repose of extraordinary desert.--Yet the same principle by
which we rejoice at the remuneration of merit, will teach us to relish
the disgrace and discomfiture of vice, which is always an example of
extensive use and influence, because it leaves a deep impression of
terror upon the minds of those who were not confirmed in the pursuit of
morality and virtue, and, while the balance wavers, enables the right
scale to preponderate.
In the drama, which is a more limited field of invention, the chief
personage is often the object of our detestation and abhorrence; and we
are as well pleased to see the wicked schemes of a Richard blasted, and
the perfidy of a Maskwell exposed, as to behold a Bevil happy, and an
Edward victorious.
The impulses of fear, which is the most violent and interesting of all the
passions, remain longer than any other upon the memory; and for one
that is allured to virtue, by the contemplation of that peace and
happiness which it bestows, a hundred are deterred from the practice of
vice, by that infamy and punishment to which it is liable, from the laws
and regulations