ot until the first of February, 1823, that the book appeared.
The public curiosity, however, had been fully excited. Extracts from
it--according to a custom then prevalent in England--had been
furnished in advance to some of the newspapers, and though these were
not the most striking passages, they served to direct attention and
awaken expectation. At the close of January, announcement of the
precise date of publication was made. Success was certain from the
start; but the degree of it outran all anticipation. The evening
papers of the first of February were able to state that up to twelve
o'clock that day there had been sold three thousand five hundred
copies. Even at this period, with a population more than five times as
numerous, such a half day's sale, under similar circumstances, would
be remarkable. It is little wonder, therefore, that the newspapers of
that period felt that only largeness of type and profusion of
exclamation points could suitably record such a success.

"The Pioneers" was the first work to display a peculiarity of the author's
character, which came afterwards into marked prominence. Cooper in a
sense belonged to the school of Scott; and he was so far from denying
it that in one place he speaks of himself as being nothing more than a
chip from the former's block. But his life would have been far happier
and his success much greater had he followed in one respect the example
of him he called his master. Scott ordinarily did not read criticisms
upon his own writings; and when he did, he was careful not to let his
equanimity be seriously disturbed even by the severest attacks. (p. 042)
of this was no doubt due to prudence; but a good deal of it to contempt.
For of all the rubbish that time shoots into the wallet of oblivion,
contemporary criticism runs about the least chance of being rescued
from the forgetfulness into which it has been thrust. This is a result
entirely independent of its goodness or badness. If the criticism is
both destructive and just, the very death of the subject against which
it is directed causes it to perish in the ruin it has brought about.
If it is unjust, it is certain to be speedily forgotten, unless he who
suffers from it takes the pains to perpetuate its memory, or some later
investigator drags it from its obscurity for the sake of pointing out
its absurdity. The creative literature of the past is the utmost the
present can be expected to read. Its critical literature