Hours in a Library, Volume I | Page 5

me in Canada!' Many people are diverted from the weak
part of the story by this ingenious confirmation, and, in their surprise at
the coherence of the narrative, forget that the narrative itself rests upon
entirely anonymous evidence. A chain is no stronger than its weakest
link; but if you show how admirably the last few are united together,
half the world will forget to test the security of the equally essential
links which are kept out of sight. De Foe generally repeats a similar
trick in the prefaces of his fictions. ''Tis certain,' he says, in the
'Memoirs of a Cavalier,' 'no man could have given a description of his
retreat from Marston Moor to Rochdale, and thence over the moors to
the North, in so apt and proper terms, unless he had really travelled
over the ground he describes,' which, indeed, is quite true, but by no
means proves that the journey was made by a fugitive from that
particular battle. He separates himself more ostentatiously from the
supposititious author by praising his admirable manner of relating the
memoirs, and the 'wonderful variety of incidents with which they are
beautified;' and, with admirable impudence, assures us that they are
written in so soldierly a style, that it 'seems impossible any but the very
person who was present in every action here related was the relater of
them.' In the preface to 'Roxana,' he acts, with equal spirit, the character
of an impartial person, giving us the evidence on which he is himself
convinced of the truth of the story, as though he would, of all things,
refrain from pushing us unfairly for our belief. The writer, he says, took
the story from the lady's own mouth: he was, of course, obliged to
disguise names and places; but was himself 'particularly acquainted
with this lady's first husband, the brewer, and with his father, and also
with his bad circumstances, and knows that first part of the story.' The
rest we must, of course, take upon the lady's own evidence, but less
unwillingly, as the first is thus corroborated. We cannot venture to
suggest to so calm a witness that he has invented both the lady and the
writer of her history; and, in short, that when he says that A. says that B.
says something, it is, after all, merely the anonymous 'he' who is
speaking. In giving us his authority for 'Moll Flanders,' he ventures
upon the more refined art of throwing a little discredit upon the
narrator's veracity. She professes to have abandoned her evil ways, but,
as he tells us with a kind of aside, and as it were cautioning us against

over-incredulity, 'it seems' (a phrase itself suggesting the impartial
looker-on) that in her old age 'she was not so extraordinary a penitent
as she was at first; it seems only' (for, after all, you mustn't make too
much of my insinuations) 'that indeed she always spoke with
abhorrence of her former life.' So we are left in a qualified state of
confidence, as if we had been talking about one of his patients with the
wary director of a reformatory.
This last touch, which is one of De Foe's favourite expedients, is most
fully exemplified in the story of Mrs. Veal. The author affects to take
us into his confidence, to make us privy to the pros and cons in regard
to the veracity of his own characters, till we are quite disarmed. The
sober gentlewoman vouches for Mrs. Bargrave; but Mrs. Bargrave is by
no means allowed to have it all her own way. One of the ghost's
communications related to the disposal of a certain sum of 10l. a year,
of which Mrs. Bargrave, according to her own account, could have
known nothing, except by this supernatural intervention. Mrs. Veal's
friends, however, tried to throw doubt upon the story of her appearance,
considering that it was disreputable for a decent woman to go abroad
after her death. One of them, therefore, declared that Mrs. Bargrave
was a liar, and that she had, in fact, known of the 10l. beforehand. On
the other hand, the person who thus attacked Mrs. Bargrave had himself
the 'reputation of a notorious liar.' Mr. Veal, the ghost's brother, was
too much of a gentleman to make such gross imputations. He confined
himself to the more moderate assertion that Mrs. Bargrave had been
crazed by a bad husband. He maintained that the story must be a
mistake, because, just before her death, his sister had declared that she
had nothing to dispose of. This statement, however, may be reconciled
with the ghost's remarks about the 10l., because she obviously
mentioned such a trifle merely by way of a token of the reality of her
appearance. Mr. Veal, indeed, makes