Seats of the Mighty | Page 3

far-off day, a ship was wrecked upon the coast at
Mablethorpe, and the only person saved was the captain, who came
ashore with a Bible in his hands. During the writing now and again a
friend would come to me from London or elsewhere, and there would
be a day off, full of literary tattle, but immediately my friends were
gone I was lost again in the atmosphere of the middle of the eighteenth
century.
I stayed at Mablethorpe until the late autumn, and then I went to
Harrogate, exchanging the sea for the moors, and there, still living the
open-air life, I remained for several months until I had finished the
book. The writing of it knew no interruption and was happily set. It was
a thing apart, and not a single untoward invasion of other interests
affected its course.
The title of the book was for long a trouble to me. Months went by
before I could find what I wanted. Scores of titles occurred to me, but
each was rejected. At last, one day when I was being visited by Mr.
Grant Richards, since then a London publisher, but at that time a writer,
who had come to interview me for 'Great Thoughts', I told him of my
difficulties regarding the title. I was saying that I felt the title should be,
as it were, the kernel of a book. I said: "You see, it is a struggle of one
simple girl against principalities and powers; it is the final conquest of
the good over the great. In other words, the book will be an illustration
of the text, 'He has put down the mighty from their seats, and has
exalted the humble and meek.'" Then, like a flash, the title came 'The
Seats of the Mighty'.
Since the phrase has gone into the language and was from the very first
a popular title, it seems strange that the literary director of the
American firm that published the book should take strong exception to
it on the ground that it was grandiloquent. I like to think that I was firm,
and that I declined to change the title.
I need say no more save that the book was dramatised by myself, and

produced, first at Washington by Herbert (now Sir Herbert) Beerbohm
Tree in the winter of 1897 and 1898, and in the spring of 1898 it
opened his new theatre in London.

PREFATORY NOTE TO FIRST EDITION
This tale would never have been written had it not been for the
kindness of my distinguished friend Dr. John George Bourinot, C.M.G.,
of Ottawa, whose studies in parliamentary procedure, the English and
Canadian Constitutions, and the history and development of Canada
have been of singular benefit to the Dominion and to the Empire.
Through Dr. Bourinot's good offices I came to know Mr. James
Lemoine, of Quebec, the gifted antiquarian, and President of the Royal
Society of Canada. Mr. Lemoine placed in my hands certain historical
facts suggestive of romance. Subsequently, Mr. George M. Fairchild,
Jr., of Cap Rouge, Quebec, whose library contains a valuable collection
of antique Canadian books, maps, and prints, gave me generous
assistance and counsel, allowing me "the run" of all his charts, prints,
histories, and memoirs. Many of these prints, and a rare and authentic
map of Wolfe's operations against Quebec are now reproduced in this
novel, and may be considered accurate illustrations of places, people,
and events. By the insertion of these faithful historical elements it is
hoped to give more vividness to the atmosphere of the time, and to
strengthen the verisimilitude of a piece of fiction which is not, I believe,
out of harmony with fact.
Gilbert Parker

PRELUDE
To Sir Edward Seaforth, Bart., of Sangley Hope in Derbyshire, and
Seaforth House in Hanover Square.
Dear Ned: You will have them written, or I shall be pestered to my
grave! Is that the voice of a friend of so long standing? And yet it

seems but yesterday since we had good hours in Virginia together, or
met among the ruins of Quebec. My memoirs--these only will content
you? And to flatter or cajole me, you tell me Mr. Pitt still urges on the
matter. In truth, when he touched first upon this, I thought it but the
courtesy of a great and generous man. But indeed I am proud that he is
curious to know more of my long captivity at Quebec, of Monsieur
Doltaire and all his dealings with me, and the motions he made to serve
La Pompadour on one hand, and, on the other, to win from me that
most perfect of ladies, Mademoiselle Alixe Duvarney.
Our bright conquest of Quebec is now heroic memory, and honour and
fame and reward have been parcelled out. So I