eavouring to impose upon good-natured persons
by protestations of demerits, want of experience and talent, with that
long series of et ceteras with which a writer generally opens his first
campaign.

The public has nothing to do with an exculpatory doctrine, which carries
with it the aggravating circumstance of not being sincere; for I am sure
that no man, with a moderate share of common sense, will suppose that an
author really believes the accusation he so humbly utters against
himself. Could he indeed persuade himself that his book was so very
indifferent a performance, he might assuredly more justly accuse himself
of acting the part of an unnatural parent in thus gratuitously exposing
his intellectual offspring to the neglect and compassion of the world.

Besides, when an author presents his readers with this stultifying
catalogue of demerits, he supplies them with the very best reasons to
retort upon him:--"Good heavens; if the man has neither talents nor
information, why does he write at all?" Having thus waved my claims to
any similar indulgence, it only remains for me to say a few words
respecting the origin and the object of the following Romance.

As an enthusiastic admirer of the lofty genius, the delightful and vivid
creations of that great founder of English historical fiction, Sir
Walter Scott, it often struck me, while reading his enchanting novels,
as rather singular that he had never availed himself of the beautiful
and inexhaustible materials for works upon a similar plan to be met
with in Spain. It has, indeed, been generally admitted that Spain was
the classic ground of chivalry and romance. The long dominion of the
Moors--the striking contrast between their religion, their customs and
manners, and those of their Christian enemy--the different petty
kingdoms into which Spain was divided, with the consequent feuds,
intrigues and battles,--all concurred to produce a succession of
extraordinary incidents and character, highly adapted for romantic and
dramatic illustration. Yet, while the less abundant chronicles and
traditions of England, Scotland, Ireland and France, were successively
ransacked by the great magician and his most successful imitators, they
seem almost studiously to have avoided dwelling upon those glowing,
luxuriant productions, replete with such variety of incident and
character, which form the national treasures of Spain.

Conceiving, then, that I had the same right as any one else