The writer has published so much truth which the world has insisted
was fiction, and so much fiction which has been received as truth,
that, in the present instance, he is resolved to say nothing on the
subject. Each of his readers is at liberty to believe just as much, or
as little, of the matter here laid before him, or her, as may suit
his, or her notions, prejudices, knowledge of the world, or
ignorance. If anybody is disposed to swear he knows precisely where
Clawbonny is, that he was well acquainted with old Mr. Hardinge, nay,
has often heard him preach--let him make his affidavit, in
welcome. Should he get a little wide of the mark, it will not be the
first document of that nature, which has possessed the same weakness.
It is possible that certain captious persons may be disposed to
inquire into the _cui bono?_ of such a book. The answer is
this. Everything which can convey to the human mind distinct and
accurate impressions of events, social facts, professional
peculiarities, or past history, whether of the higher or more familiar
character, is of use. All that is necessary is, that the pictures
should be true to nature, if not absolutely drawn from living
sitters. The knowledge we gain by our looser reading, often becomes
serviceable in modes and manners little anticipated in the moments
when it is acquired.
Perhaps the greater portion of all our peculiar opinions have their
foundation in prejudices. These prejudices are produced in consequence
of its being out of the power of any one man to see, or know, every
thing. The most favoured mortal must receive far more than half of all
that he learns on his faith in others; and it may aid those who can
never be placed in positions to judge for themselves of certain phases
of men and things, to get pictures of the same, drawn in a way to give
them nearer views than they might otherwise obtain. This is the
greatest benefit of all light literature in general, it being possible
to render that which is purely fictitious even more useful than that
which is strictly true, by avoiding extravagancies, by pourtraying
with fidelity, and, as our friend Marble might say, by "generalizing"
with discretion.
This country has undergone many important changes since the
commencement of the present century. Some of these changes have been
for the better; others, we think out of all question, for the
worse. The last is a fact that can be known to the generation which is
coming into life, by report only, and these pages may possibly throw
some little light on both points, in representing things as they
were. The population of the republic is probably something more than
eighteen millions and a half to-day; in the year of our Lord one
thousand eight hundred, it was but a little more than five
millions. In 1800, the population of New-York was somewhat less than
six hundred thousand souls; to-day it is probably a little less than
two millions seven hundred thousand souls. In 1800, the town of
New-York had sixty thousand inhabitants, whereas, including Brooklyn
and Williamsburg, which then virtually had no existence, it must have
at this moment quite four hundred thousand. These are prodigious
numerical changes, that have produced changes of another
sort. Although an increase of numbers does not necessarily infer an
increase of high civilization, it reasonably leads to the expectation
of great melioration in the commoner comforts. Such has been the
result, and to those familiar with facts as they now exist, the
difference will probably be apparent in these pages.
Although the moral changes in American society have not kept even pace
with those that are purely physical, many that are essential have
nevertheless occurred. Of all the British possessions on this
continent, New-York, after its conquest from the Dutch, received most
of the social organization of the mother country. Under the Dutch,
even, it had some of these characteristic peculiarities, in its
patroons; the lords of the manor of the New Netherlands. Some of the
southern colonies, it is true, had their caciques and other
semi-feudal, and semi-savage noblesse, but the system was of short
continuance; the peculiarities of that section of the country, arising
principally from the existence of domestic slavery, on an extended
scale. With New-York it was different. A conquered colony, the mother
country left the impression of its own institutions more deeply
engraved than on any of the settlements that were commenced by grants
to proprietors, or under charters from the crown. It was strictly a
royal colony, and so continued to be, down to the hour of
separation. The social consequences of this state of things were to be
traced in her habits unlit the current of immigration became so
strong, as to bring with it those that were conflicting, if not
absolutely antagonist. The influence of these two sources of thought
is still obvious to the reflecting, giving rise to a double set of
social opinions; one of which bears all the characteristics of its New
England and puritanical origin, while the other may be said to come of
the usages and notions of the Middle States, proper.
This is said in anticipation of certain strictures that will be likely
to follow some of the incidents of our story, it not being always
deemed an essential in an American critic, that he should understand
his subject. Too many of them, indeed, justify the retort of the man
who derided the claims to knowledge of life, set up by a neighbour,
that "had been to meetin' and had been to mill." We can all obtain
some notions of the portion of a subject that is placed immediately
before our eyes; the difficulty is to understand that which we have no
means of studying.
On the subject of the nautical incidents of this book, we have
endeavoured to be as exact as our authorities will allow. We are fully
aware of the importance of writing what the world thinks, rather than
what is true, and are not conscious of any very palpable errors of
this nature.
It is no more than fair to apprize the reader, that our tale is not
completed in the First Part, or the volumes that are now published.
This, the plan of the book would not permit: but we can promise those
who may feel any interest in the subject, that the season shall not
pass away, so far as it may depend on ourselves, without bringing the
narrative to a close. Poor Captain Wallingford is now in his
sixty-fifth year, and is naturally desirous of not being hung up long
on the tenter-hooks of expectation, so near the close of life. The
old gentleman having seen much and suffered much, is entitled to end
his days in peace. In this mutual frame of mind between the principal,
and his editors, the public shall have no cause to complain of
unnecessary delay, whatever may be its rights of the same nature on
other subjects.
The author--perhaps editor would be the better word--does not feel
himself responsible for all the notions advanced by the hero of this
tale, and it may be as well to say as much. That one born in the
Revolution should think differently from the men of the present day,
in a hundred things, is to be expected. It is in just this difference
of opinion, that the lessons of the book are to be found.