Produced by Tapio Riikonen
THE HISTORY OF PENDENNIS
By William Makepeace Thackeray
TO DR. JOHN ELLIOTSON
My Dear Doctor,
Thirteen months ago, when it seemed likely that this story had come toa close, a kind friend brought you to my bedside, whence, inall probability, I never should have risen but for your constantwatchfulness and skill. I like to recall your great goodness andkindness (as well as many acts of others, showing quite a surprisingfriendship and sympathy) at that time, when kindness and friendship weremost needed and welcome.
And as you would take no other fee but thanks, let me record them herein behalf of me and mine, and subscribe myself,
Yours most sincerely and gratefully,
W. M. THACKERAY.
PREFACE
If this kind of composition, of which the two years' product is now laidbefore the public, fail in art, as it constantly does and must, it atleast has the advantage of a certain truth and honesty, which a workmore elaborate might lose. In his constant communication with thereader, the writer is forced into frankness of expression, and to speakout his own mind and feelings as they urge him. Many a slip of the penand the printer, many a word spoken in haste, he sees and would recallas he looks over his volume. It is a sort of confidential talk betweenwriter and reader, which must often be dull, must often flag. In thecourse of his volubility, the perpetual speaker must of necessity laybare his own weaknesses, vanities, peculiarities. And as we judge of aman's character, after long frequenting his society, not by one speech,or by one mood or opinion, or by one day's talk, but by the tenor of hisgeneral bearing and conversation; so of a writer, who delivers himselfup to you perforce unreservedly, you say, Is he honest? Does he tellthe truth in the main? Does he seem actuated by a desire to find out andspeak it? Is he a quack, who shams sentiment, or mouths for effect? Doeshe seek popularity by claptraps or other arts? I can no more ignore goodfortune than any other chance which has befallen me. I have found manythousands more readers than I ever looked for. I have no right to sayto these, You shall not find fault with my art, or fall asleep over mypages; but I ask you to believe that this person writing strives to tellthe truth. If there is not that, there is nothing.
Perhaps the lovers of 'excitement' may care to know, that this bookbegan with a very precise plan, which was entirely put aside. Ladiesand gentlemen, you were to have been treated, and the writer's and thepublisher's pocket benefited, by the recital of the most active horrors.What more exciting than a ruffian (with many admirable virtues) in St.Giles's, visited constantly by a young lady from Belgravia? Whatmore stirring than the contrasts of society? the mixture of slang andfashionable language? the escapes, the battles, the murders? Nay, up tonine o'clock this very morning, my poor friend, Colonel Altamont, wasdoomed to execution, and the author only relented when his victim wasactually at the window.
The 'exciting' plan was laid aside (with a very honourable forbearanceon the part of the publishers), because, on attempting it, I found thatI failed from want of experience of my subject; and never having beenintimate with any convict in my life, and the manners of ruffians andgaol-birds being quite unfamiliar to me, the idea of entering intocompetition with M. Eugene Sue was abandoned. To describe a real rascal,you must make him so horrible that he would be too hideous to show; andunless the painter paints him fairly, I hold he has no right to show himat all.
Even the gentlemen of our age--this is an attempt to describe one ofthem, no better nor worse than most educated men--even these we cannotshow as they are, with the notorious foibles and selfishness of theirlives and their education. Since the author of Tom Jones was buried, nowriter of fiction among us has been permitted to depict to his utmostpower a MAN. We must drape him, and give him a certain conventionalsimper. Society will not tolerate the Natural in our Art. Many ladieshave remonstrated and subscribers left me, because, in the course of thestory, I described a young man resisting and affected by temptation.
My object was to say, that he had the passions to feel, and themanliness and generosity to overcome them. You will not hear--it is bestto know it--what moves in the real world, what passes in society, in theclubs, colleges, mess-rooms,--what is the life and talk of your sons.A little more frankness than is customary has been attempted in thisstory; with no bad desire on the writer's part, it is hoped, and with noill consequence to any reader. If truth is not always pleasant, atany rate truth is best, from whatever chair--from those whence graverwriters or thinkers argue, as from that at which the story-teller sitsas he concludes his labour, and bids his kind reader farewell.
Kensington, Nov. 26th, 1850.