any cause, or support any theory, the didactic
element must be made entirely subordinate to the purely creative
element. Otherwise we impart to the novel the tediousness of a homily
without its accepted authority. Art must be wooed as a mistress; she can
never be commanded as a slave. He, therefore, who seeks to press (p. 110)
fiction into a work so foreign to its nature as the inculcation of
political opinions, must, if he hopes to succeed, make the story suggest
the lesson without conveying it obtrusively. Above all is there need of
delicate touch and skillful handling, if the aim be to affect those who
are prejudiced against the views expressed, or whose interests are
involved in the fate of those attacked. But Cooper's was never a
delicate touch. What he thought he never insinuated; what he believed
himself he never allowed to make its way indirectly into the minds of
others. He always uttered it boldly, and sometimes offensively.
Effective this assuredly is in compositions of a certain class; but it
is entirely out of place in a work of fiction. In the case of these
particular novels the purpose is avowed openly and repeatedly. Cooper,
indeed, takes care never to let it escape the reader's attention. He may
almost be said to stand by his shoulder to jog him if he once happens to
forget that the story has a moral. American institutions, especially,
were constantly held up as models in which the best results were seen,
and which it was the policy of all other countries to imitate. The
course taken was a mark of patriotism; but it was not the way to gain
converts. It is, in truth, the misfortune of the novelist, burdened with
a moral purpose, that the reader usually feels the burden and is not
affected by the moral. It was not by methods like these that Scott threw
about chivalry and aristocracy that glamour which outlasts the most
minute acquaintance with the reality, and influences the imagination in
spite of the protest of the judgment.

But another result that followed from writing novels with a purpose, had
a more direct influence upon his reputation. It made it impossible (p. 111)
that his work should any longer be criticised fairly. This was
immediately seen in the case of "The Bravo." This novel had far more
success in Europe than in America. But the success was not of a
legitimate kind. Parties were at once arrayed for it or against it, not
because it was a good or bad production from a literary point of vi