journalists had brought against Home As Found. Doubtless the publisher would have been pleased to find other American writers sufficiently democratic to provide free copy.
Tales for Fifteen owes most of its interest today to its crucial position in the Cooper canon. The literary value of “Imagination” and “Heart,” as their author realized, is slight. They were essentially experiments in which he sought to deploy indigenous materials within the conventions of British domestic fiction. “Imagination,” with its sprightly observation of American middle-class vulgarities, betrays a satiric awareness that Cooper did later develop; but “Heart” is a forced sentimental indulgence of a sort he never permitted by preference in later works, though he sometimes tolerated it as a concession to feminine readers. For Cooper the chief significance of these stories was that they demonstrated forcibly, if demonstration was necessary, that neither the characteristic materials nor the characteristic forms employed by the British women were congenial to his imagination. His failure was altogether fortunate; for had The American Tales been completed and published instead of The Spy, Cooper’s career and the course of much of American literature might have been different.
First editions of Tales for Fifteen are the rarest of all Cooper “firsts.” The four copies presently known are in the Cooper Collection of the Yale University Library, the American Antiquarian Society, the J. K. Lilly Collection of Indiana University, and the New York Society Library.
James Franklin Beard
Clark University
Southern District of New-York.
Be it remembered, That on the thirteenth day of June, in the forty-seventh year of the Independence of the United States of America, Charles Wiley, of the said District, hath deposited in this office the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words and figures following, to wit:
“Tales for Fifteen; or Imagination and Heart. By Jane Morgan.”
In conformity to the Act of Congress of the United States entitled, “An Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned.” And also to an Act, entitled “an Act, supplementary to an Act, entitled an Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints.”
JAMES DILL,
Clerk of the Southern District of New-York
Preface
When the author of these little tales commenced them, it was her intention to form a short series of such stories as, it was hoped, might not be entirely without moral advantage; but unforeseen circumstances have prevented their completion, and, unwilling to delay the publication any longer, she commits them to the world in their present unfinished state, without any flattering anticipations of their reception. They are intended for the perusal of young women, at that tender age when the feelings of their nature begin to act on them most insidiously, and when their minds are least prepared by reason and experience to contend with their passions.
“Heart” was intended for a much longer tale, and is unavoidably incomplete; but it is unnecessary to point out defects that even the juvenile reader will soon detect. The author only hopes that if they do no good, her tales will, at least, do no harm.
Imagination
Chapter I
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
“Do – do write to me often, my dear Anna!” said the weeping Julia Warren, on parting, for the first time since their acquaintance, with the young lady whom she had honoured with the highest place in her affections. “Think how dreadfully solitary and miserable I shall be here, without a single companion, or a soul to converse with, now you are to be removed two hundred miles into the wilderness.”
“Oh! trust me, my love, I shall not forget you now or ever,” replied her friend, embracing the other slightly, and, perhaps, rather hastily for so tender an adieu; at the same time glancing her eye on the figure of a youth, who stood in silent contemplation of the scene. “And doubt not but I shall soon tire you with my correspondence, especially as I more than suspect it will be subjected to the criticisms of Mr. Charles Weston.” As she concluded, the young lady curtisied to the youth in a manner that contradicted, by its flattery, the forced irony of her remark.
“Never, my dear girl!” exclaimed Miss Warren with extreme fervour. “The confidence of our friendship is sacred with me, and nothing, no, nothing, could ever tempt me to violate such a trust. Charles is very kind and very indulgent to all my whims, but he never could obtain such an influence over me as to become the depositary of my secrets. Nothing but a friend, like yourself, can do that, my dear Anna.”
“Never! Miss Warren,” said the youth with a lip that betrayed by its tremulous motion the interest he took in her speech – “never includes a long period of time. But,” he added with a smile of good-humoured pleasantry, “if admitted to such a distinction, I should not feel myself competent to the task of commenting on so much innocence and purity, as I know I should find in your correspondence.”
“Yes,” said Anna, with a little of the energy of her friend’s manner, “you may with truth say so, Mr. Weston. The imagination of my Julia is as pure as – as” but turning her eyes from the countenance of Julia to that of the youth, rather suddenly, the animated pleasure she saw delineated in his expressive, though plain features, drove the remainder of the speech from her recollection.
“As her heart!” cried Charles Weston with emphasis.
“As her heart, Sir,” repeated the young lady coldly.
The last adieus were hastily exchanged, and Anna Miller was handed into her father’s gig by Charles Weston in profound silence. Miss Emmerson, the maiden aunt of Julia, withdrew from the door, where she had been conversing with Mr. Miller, and the travellers departed. Julia followed the vehicle with her eyes until it was hid by the trees and shrubbery that covered the lawn, and then withdrew to her room to give vent to a sorrow that had sensibly touched her affectionate heart, and in no trifling degree haunted her lively imagination.
As Miss Emmerson by no means held the good qualities of the guest, who had just left them, in so high an estimation as did her niece, she proceeded quietly and with great composure in the exercise of her daily duties; not in the least suspecting the real distress that, from a variety of causes, this sudden separation had caused to her ward.
The only sister of this good lady had died in giving birth to a female infant, and the fever of 1805 had, within a very few years of the death of the mother, deprived the youthful orphan of her remaining parent. Her father was a merchant, just commencing the foundations of what would, in time, have been a large estate; and as both Miss Emmerson and her sister were possessed of genteel independencies, and the aunt had long declared her intention of remaining single, the fortune of Julia, if not brilliant, was thought rather large than otherwise. Miss Emmerson had been educated immediately after the war of the revolution, and at a time when the intellect of
