inflamed; the contrast between dejected virtue and
insulting vice appears with greater aggravation, and every impression
having a double force on the imagination, the memory retains the
circumstance, and the heart improves by the example. The attention is
not tired with a bare catalogue of characters, but agreeably diverted
with all the variety of invention; and the vicissitudes of life appear in
their peculiar circumstances, opening an ample field for wit and
humour.
Romance, no doubt, owes its origin to ignorance, vanity, and
superstition. In the dark ages of the World, when a man had rendered
himself famous for wisdom or valour, his family and adherents availed
themselves of his superior qualities, magnified his virtues, and
represented his character and person as sacred and supernatural. The
vulgar easily swallowed the bait, implored his protection, and yielded
the tribute of homage and praise, even to adoration; his exploits were
handed down to posterity with a thousand exaggerations; they were
repeated as incitements to virtue; divine honours were paid, and altars
erected to his memory, for the encouragement of those who attempted
to imitate his example; and hence arose the heathen mythology, which
is no other than a collection of extravagant romances. As learning
advanced, and genius received cultivation, these stories were
embellished with the graces of poetry, that they might the better
recommend themselves to the attention; they were sung in public, at
festivals, for the instruction and delight of the audience; and rehearsed
before battle, as incentives to deeds of glory. Thus tragedy and the epic
muse were born, and, in the progress of taste, arrived at perfection. It is
no wonder that the ancients could not relish a fable in prose, after they
had seen so many remarkable events celebrated in verse by their best
poets; we therefore find no romance among them during the era of their
excellence, unless the Cyropaedia of Xenophon may be so called; and it
was not till arts and sciences began to revive after the irruption of the
barbarians into Europe, that anything of this kind appeared. But when
the minds of men were debauched by the imposition of priestcraft to
the most absurd pitch of credulity, the authors of romance arose, and
losing sight of probability, filled their performances with the most
monstrous hyperboles. If they could not equal the ancient poets in point
of genius. they were resolved to excel them in fiction, and apply to the
wonder, rather than the judgment, of their readers. Accordingly, they
brought necromancy to their aid, and instead of supporting the
character of their heroes by dignity of sentiment and practice,
distinguished them by their bodily strength, activity, and extravagance
of behaviour. Although nothing could be more ludicrous and unnatural
than the figures they drew, they did not want patrons and admirers; and
the world actually began to be infected with the spirit of knight-errantry,
when Cervantes, by an inimitable piece of ridicule, reformed the taste
of mankind, representing chivalry in the right point of view, and
converting romance to purposes far more useful and entertaining, by
making it assume the sock, and point out the follies of ordinary life.
The same method has been practised by other Spanish and French
authors, and by none more successfully than by Monsieur Le Sage,
who, in his Adventures of Gil Blas, has described the knavery and
foibles of life, with infinite humour and sagacity. The following sheets
I have modelled on his plan, taking me liberty, however, to differ from
him in the execution, where I thought his particular situations were
uncommon, extravagant, or peculiar to the country in which the scene
is laid. The disgraces of Gil Blas are, for the most part, such as rather
excite mirth than compassion; he himself laughs at them; and his
transitions from distress to happiness, or at least ease, are so sudden,
that neither the reader has time to pity him, nor himself to be
acquainted with affliction. This conduct, in my opinion, not only
deviates from probability, but prevents that generous indignation,
which ought to animate the reader against the sordid and vicious
disposition of the world. I have attempted to represent modest merit
struggling with every difficulty to which a friendless orphan is exposed,
from his own want of experience, as well as from the selfishness, envy,
malice, and base indifference of mankind. To secure a favourable
prepossession, I have allowed him the advantages of birth and
education, which in the series of his misfortunes will, I hope, engage
the ingenuous more warmly in his behalf; and though I foresee, that
some people will be offended at the mean scenes in which he is
involved, I persuade myself that the judicious will not only perceive the
necessity of describing those situations to which he must of course be
confined,
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