The Portent and Other Stories

~

Dedicated to
Duncan McColl Esq., R.N., Huntly.

My Dear Sir,

Allow me, with the honour due to my father's friend, to inscribe this
little volume with your name. The name of one friend is better than
those of all the Muses.

And permit me to say a few words about the story.--It is a Romance. I am
well aware that, with many readers, this epithet will be enough to
ensure condemnation. But there ought to be a place for any story, which,
although founded in the marvellous, is true to human nature and to
itself. Truth to Humanity, and harmony within itself, are almost the
sole unvarying essentials of a work of art. Even The Rime of the
Ancient Mariner--than which what more marvellous?--is true in these
respects. And Shakespere himself will allow any amount of the
marvellous, provided this truth is observed. I hope my story is thus
true; and therefore, while it claims some place, undeserving of being
classed with what are commonly called sensational novels.

I am well aware that such tales are not of much account, at present; and
greatly would I regret that they should ever become the fashion; of
which, however, there is no danger. But, seeing so much of our life must
be spent in dreaming, may there not be a still nook, shadowy, but not
miasmatic, in some lowly region of literature, where, in the pauses of
labour, a man may sit down, and dream such a day-dream as I now offer to
your acceptance, and that of those who will judge the work, in part at
least, by its purely literary claims? If I confined my pen to such
results, you, at least, would have a right to blame me. But you, for
one, will, I am sure, justify an author in dreaming sometimes.

In offering you a story, however, founded on The Second Sight, the
belief in which was common to our ancestors, I owe you, at the same
time, an apology. For the tone and colour of the story are so different
from those naturally belonging to a Celtic tale, that you might well be
inclined to refuse my request, simply on the ground that your pure
Highland blood revolted from the degenerate embodiment given to the
ancient belief. I can only say that my early education was not Celtic
enough to enable me to do better in this respect. I beg that you will
accept the offering with forgiveness, if you cannot with approbation.

Yours affectionately,
George MacDonald.

Kensington, May, 1864.

~

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