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Varied physiognomy of the country, combined in China
with a homogeneous race of inhabitants-Social organi-
zation spirit worship-The three recognized religions.
of China Peking, the sacred capital-Present political
organization of China-Chinese apotheosis of "Com-
petitive Examination" Indications that China is
slowly abandoning her position of seclusion and about
to take her place among the nations-The tea-trade,
and silk-trade-England and the opium-trade; evils of
opium-smoking: spread of the practice among Euro-
pean races-Cotton-trade-A Buddhist pilgrimage—
History of Christianity in China: present prospects.

ART. VIII.-FREDERICK LUCAS

Opportuneness and advantages of this Life-Lucas's general

character: his outspokenness and quickness to apologize

and make the amende honorable-He studies law:

becomes a Catholic; commences the Tablet newspaper

-Sketch of the decade 1840-1850-Lucas the first

promoter of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul in the

United Kingdom, and of other Associations-Spirit in
which Lucas acted as an editor: the Pope's opinion
thereon-He goes to Ireland and becomes a Repealer-
Qualifications needful in a Catholic newspaper editor:
Lucas a strong writer.

THE

DUBLIN REVIEW.

JULY, 1886.

ART. I.-NOVELISTS AND NOVELS.

"Novels, as they were long manufactured, form a library of illiterate authors for illiterate readers; but as they were created by genius, are precious to the philosopher."-I. D'ISRAELI.

NOVE

OVELS form so large a portion of the literature now published, and hold so wide a circulation among all classes of society, that a sweeping condemnation of novelists and their works would be at variance with the pronounced verdict of the literary world. In truth, all writers have considered fiction as one of the most appropriate methods of imparting to mankind great principles and important moral lessons. The reason is obvious. The writer of fiction has at his command many charming illusions in which to drape the most unpalatable truths of religion or morality, and thus present them in a form attractive to the most fastidious. Seeds of goodness are thus easily sown broadcast in the world, and as the novelist can play largely on the softer passions, he may by a judicious management so warm the heart as to produce an artificial hotbed in which the germs of virtue fructify, strike root, and develop into the finest exotics that the garden of our soul is capable of producing.

But fiction has another advantage, which, as it is less generally known, deserves to be the more carefully considered. On studying the psychological constitution of man, we find that his education, especially his earlier education, depends very much on the power of the phantasy or imagination. It is this faculty which receives, aids to reproduce, separate, and combine those sensible pictures (phantasmata) on the fecundity, clearness, and brilliancy of which the success of intellectual operations greatly depends. Without a rich and strong imagination the orator VOL. XVI.-NO. I. [Third Series.]

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would be feeble and the artist barren; the author would fail to write with graphic lucidity, and the poet would no longer charm us with the beauties of fancy; the philosopher would be unable to ascend to the heights of speculation, and the inventor would never produce his marvels of skill and ingenuity; in a word, all the politer arts would be paralyzed, and the lower branches of industry would suffer in proportion. It is therefore easy to understand how great is the necessity that the imagination should be cultivated and perfected while it still retains the flexibility of youth. To this end fiction is eminently suited. Its characteristics are animation of language, brilliancy of description, richness of colouring, excitement of incident, and play of passion; all of which powerfully excite the imagination and urge it to take that exercise which is necessary to its development and perfection. The novelist causes the young reader to wander through the wildest plains of romance, such as can be crossed only by the springs and flights of fancy, and thereby supplies to the mind what physical exercise gives to the body.

The object, therefore, which the writer of fiction should always hold in view is to exercise the phantasy in pleasant but lawful subjects, to fill it with novel and happy images, and by this indirect, as well as by a direct, appeal to the heart, so to temper and control the passions as may be most suitable to the formation of virtue and the extirpation of vice. For this reason, his representations should be chaste, his sentiments pure, and his leading characters noble-minded and virtuous.

The great variety of virtue which the human soul can acquire place at the author's disposal so many springs of action by which the plot may be kept moving, and so many labyrinths of sentiment through which the reader may be conducted, that the novelist never need look beyond the sphere of every-day life for his subjects, nor fear to weary by harping on the often-touched strings that run through every heart.

It will, of course, be understood that the representations of virtue are usually accompanied by the descriptions of vice. The author must follow the same principle as the artist. His high lights must be brought out by shadow, and the brightness of his picture be toned down by judicious shading. But in the introduction of human weakness, crime, and sin, he must be realistic in his moral, and, as he cannot conduct the reader beyond the stage of this world, he must anticipate the final end of sin, and this is misery.

In connection with the depicting of vice there is a point in which vitiated writers constantly offend. As concupiscence is rooted in fallen nature, and as its desires are inflammable and violent, allusions to this passion and descriptions of its play are

among the most frequent means by which indifferent authors seek to arouse their reader's interest. Yet no literary process is more opposed to the principles of art and morality. The office of the artist is to raise and elevate, to excite a hatred of the bad and inspire a love for the good, to aid mankind in overcoming sin and in winning virtue. Moralists, however, unanimously agree that the lusts of sensuality are not to be conquered by pondering on their lowness and brutality, but by ignoring their existence, by occupying the mind with other subjects, and turning a deaf ear to their seductions. To introduce the reader, then, to vices that are not named in polite society, and to surround them with all the seductive paraphernalia of love and beauty, is to quit the path of art and to violate a well-founded rule of ascetical life. The virtue of innocence is, in fact, like a highly polished mirror, before which no dark object can pass without casting a stain on its burnished surface, and sullying the lustre of its brightness. Immoral books present the greatest danger to the frailest virtue. This fact, acknowledged by all that have had a painful experience in such matters, is easily explained. Shame hinders such as are not entirely abandoned from indulging freely in licentious talk, but the book is a companion so confidential and private that modesty is soon reconciled to its language. The spoken word, too, is transient, and its meaning often ambiguous; but the printed page is durable, and may be studied until its full sense has thoroughly penetrated the mind. The one, moreover, is mostly the product of the moment, but the other is long premeditated, artfully composed, carefully coloured and dressed, so that innocence is lost before the peril is fully remarked. The former, again, has only a narrow circle of auditors; but the latter can speak to thousands in the present and in the future. The reproduction by the press can give it a multitude of tongues, and the pens of translators can teach it as many languages. Without a conscience, remorse, or fear, the book as readily betrays the innocence of youth as it pampers the sensuality of old age; and, reckless of consequences, it produces in the world confusion of ideas, loss of principle, knowledge of sin, perversion of morals, irreligion, and practical paganism. There is a very charming fable illustrative of the permanent and widespread misery immoral books produce: A robber and an author are in hell; both are enclosed in huge iron cauldrons, beneath which fires burn; yet with this difference, that beneath the robber is continually decreasing, while that beneath the author is ever growing worse. The author deems his sins to have been less than those of his companion; he complains of the gods' injustice, and one of the infernal Sisters is sent to vindicate the sentence of Providence.

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