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Immoral School of Fiction.

451

Balzac, Eugène Sue, and Charles de Bernard, there are, no doubt, amusing sketches of society, and characters drawn with great finesse: there is much of observation, true appreciation of private life, and sometimes an uncommon vigour and raciness of style: but what we object to is the selection of the subjects which the writers almost uniformly make. We will venture to say, that not one of the numerous works produced by the above-named authors can be selected, the chief incident of which is not an adulterous intercourse, either accomplished, or, at all events, attempted. Nor is this violation of the laws of God palliated, or even acknowledged to be a reprehensible fact, introduced only for the sake of dramatic effect. No, it is a daguerreotype of the world as it is; and any person who has had some experience of the fashionable doings in Paris, has met constantly with the actual models which we see sketched at full length in La Peau de Chagrin, Les Mémoires du Diable, or Les Mystères de Paris. The fact is, that if a modern French novelist writes to depict society as it is, he must exhibit in vivid colours all the worst passions of the human heart: the unbounded love of gain, the recklessness of the future, man's whole energies concentrated upon the enjoyment of the present hour, a state of civilization in which extreme refinement has produced moral and intellectual corruption. Is it to be wondered at, that modest women should be the exception in a country where an author endeavours to give, if we may so say, the aesthetics of "frailty;" and, more than that, finds readers willing to endorse his monstrous opinions? It is M. de Balzac who has penned the following curious piece of criticism :

"Obliged, as he was, to espouse the ideas of an essentially hypocritical nation, Walter Scott has represented humanity under false colours in his character of woman; and the reason is, that schismatics were sitting for his models. The Protestant woman has no ideal. She may be chaste, pure, virtuous; but her inexpressive love will always be calm and orderly, as proceeding from the consciousness of fulfilled duty. It would seem that the Virgin Mary has hardened the hearts of the sophists who drove her from heaven, together with her treasures of mercy. In the Protestant religion there is nothing possible for a woman, when she has once committed a fault; in the Catholic Church, on the contrary, the hope of pardon renders her sublime. Consequently, the representation of the female character is ever the same among Protestant writers, whilst every new situation brings a new woman before the Catholic author."

With a literary creed such as this, it is not difficult to justify the grossest vices; and whatever may be said about the Protestant woman's consciousness that she has fulfilled her duty, we most sincerely rejoice that, according to M. de Balzac's own acknowledgment, the nature of evangelical Christianity is incom

patible with beings of the same class as Delphine de Nucingen, the Duchess de Langeais, and Madame de Marneffe.

And this is the reason why M. de Balzac's novels, more especially, are so dangerous to the unguarded reader. The effect they produce is that of a slow dissolvent, which acts gradually, but surely, upon the generous feelings of the heart, and leaves us unfit to cope with the realities of life. Paul de Kock is at times grossly indelicate; but he never throws a veil of plausibility over the grivois scenes of his novels. Balzac, without describing scenes of actual indecency, dismisses us under the impression that there is not one woman who is proof against seduction; not one man who would not sell his name and fame for a title, a coach and six, or a handsome per-centage. Frédéric Soulié, Eugène Sue, and Charles de Bernard-nay, the whole modern school of French novelists, with only two or three exceptions—are liable to the same accusation.

There is no doubt that, especially since 1830, society in France seems to be hurrying on towards a final dissolution, and a thorough reform is more and more needed, to clear the moral atmosphere. Such is the feeling which has given rise to a third class of novelists, the last we shall examine here, and which may be designated as the Socialist romance-writers of la Jeune France. Emile Souvestre belongs to that school, and deserves peculiar notice for the healthy tone of his works. A deep melancholy feeling is the chief characteristic of his style, and, like a modern Juvenal, he lashes with unsparing hand the vices, the follies, and the heartlessness of the nineteenth century. He sees admirably what are the weak points of French society; the misfortune is, that he does not suspect how the evils are to be remedied. At least, he speaks of religion, and sees beyond time; but his creed is very vague, and resolves itself into a cold Deism.

M. Alphonse Karr has not entered the arena of literature with the professed object of waging war against social abuses; his novels are distinguished more by humour than by invective; yet his quiet satire oftentimes exposes the "shams" by which we allow ourselves to be led about; and in a tale bearing the eccentric title, Fort en Thême,* he has particularly denounced the extravagant idea which came into fashion about thirty years ago, to wit, that literature is the only pursuit worth following at the present day. A great deal has been said respecting the "fourth estate," and "the priesthood of letters;" but truly we have frequently met with members belonging to that guild, who disgraced it as much as Tetzel or Escobar ever did their own order. Literature has been lately too much used as a stepping

In the Harrow or Eton latitude, the English for the above would be, “A Dab at Latin Verses."

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stone to political influence. In France a literary character was wont to be considered as a kind of demi-god, before whom incense should be burnt, and genuflexions performed. This was offering a premium to fast and questionable scribbling, and asserting that the destinies of a great nation may safely be committed to a man who has only the dexterity and the impudence of a chevalier d'industrie. On points such as these, M. Alphonse Karr has no such illusions, and his strong common-sense stands in vivid contrast to the folly of some, and the rascality of others.

But our readers have already been thinking, no doubt, of the celebrated person who is most conspicuously identified with the social and religious upheavings of modern society. The nineteenth century, with its scepticism, its errors, its aspirations, has found its true representative in George Sand. No name, perhaps, has been the object of more opprobrium; no literary character has met with such staunch defenders. The gifted authoress of Mauprat has, since the Revolution of 1848, given up her pretensions to the apostleship of Socialism; but of her earlier productions, admirable as they are in point of style and descriptive power, we feel bound to speak (with the exception of André, Mauprat, and the Lettres d'un Voyageur) in terms of the strongest reprobation. We admit, quite readily, that she felt society to be altogether out of joint; but we deny that the proper way of mending matters is to confound the boundaries of order and virtue, and to dissolve the principles that hold society together. The codes that govern modern civilized communities require amendment and correction; but the mistake of George Sand was to confound with controvertible formulas and men-appointed, therefore fallible, regulations, the laws laid down by God Himself. It is, however, a very remarkable circumstance, that George Sand has bid adieu to the dreams which engrossed her attention during the early part of her literary career. Disappointed at seeing that each political outburst only delayed the realization of her schemes; having derived from a long intercourse with her fellow-men hardly any thing except heart-burnings and despondency, she has determined upon leaving the destinies of society in the hands of Him who alone can safely direct its course, and she now devotes herself entirely to purely artistic emotions.

The novel, as well as poetry and the drama, exhibits the same sad symptoms of decay which we have already had occasion to notice. It was formerly said of the reign of Louis XV, "Ce fut une halte dans la boue." This expression is entirely applicable to the present state of French imaginative literature; it has sunk knee-deep in the mire of materialism. After what has been previously said in the course of this article, is it necessary that we should explain, at greater length, either how such a state of

things has been brought about, or how it can find a speedy termination? We think not. Facts speak for themselves with sufficient clearness, and proclaim the root of the evil to be in that universal scepticism which has pervaded the whole fabric of society. The human mind is ever anxious to reach after absolute truth; when it has come to the conclusion, through some radically false inference, that positive religion cannot yield that truth, it seeks elsewhere. The soul, longing to be filled, and yearning after peace, fancies that politics will supply the place of religion; and it honours schemes of social reform with the worship it denies to the only true God. It sets up its idol in the forum, or the Parliament-hall. The error, however, is not of long duration; a very small amount, indeed, of experience suffices to make us perceive that there is no absolute truth to be found in the region of political discussions. Then man sinks lower still: he centres all his energies upon the only tangible results this world can afford; he rushes forward in the pursuit of pleasure, riches, enjoyments of every description, and yields himself up as a slave to all the animal passions.

Now, to those three different stages correspond as many phases in the history of literature. When, in a nation, the principle of religious faith is still strong; when the power of God is generally recognised and cherished; then it is that literature finds its true conditions of development and progress. The worship of politics, on the other hand, naturally brings in its train the glorification of the intellect: man no longer considers thought as a powerful weapon to secure the triumph of virtue, and the vindication of the eternal laws of right and truth. He views literature both as the means and the end; he introduces the maxim, "Art for art's sake," or, in other terms, he proclaims that we must both speak and write without any meaning. Lastly, materialism in ethics invariably leads to materialism in literature. The man whose great object is the satisfaction of sense, and the pursuit of pleasure, will naturally say, as M. Dumas did to Dr. Véron, "The thing is to exchange good manuscripts against good bank-notes." His motto will be, "Who'll buy?" Our conclusion, therefore, is obvious. Let us see a revival of religion in France, and by religion we do not mean Ultramontanism, nor even Gallicanism,-we shall soon see a corresponding revival of literature. Whenever it may please God to send His Spirit into the "dry bones," the world of thought must share in the common influence. We know not whether this view of the case may occur to any of the hommes de lettres who purpose contending for the prizes offered by M. Buloz in the Revue des deux Mondes; but we feel convinced that there lies the solution of the problem.

Donaldson's Book of Jashar.

455

ART. VII.-JASHAR. Fragmenta archetypa Carminum Hebraicorum in Masorethico Veteris Testamenti Textu passim tessellata, collegit, ordinavit, restituit, in unum Corpus redegit, Latine exhibuit, Commentario instruxit JOANNES GUILELMUS DONALDSON, S. Theologiæ Doctor; Collegii SS. Trinitatis apud Cantabrigienses quondam Socius. 8vo. London and Berlin. 1854.

"Is not this written in the book of Jasher?". (Joshua x. 13.) "Behold, it is written in the book of Jasher." (2 Sam. i. 18.)

The two short passages above quoted have given rise, like the reference of the Apostle Jude to the ancient prophetical Book of Enoch, to much very natural curiosity as to the writings thus obscurely hinted at in the sacred volume. In literature, as in other things, demand creates supply. And as surely as curiosity has yearned after some manuscript dark with the dust of centuries, with which the name of some of these old histories referred to in Scripture might be identified; so surely have claimants come forth to challenge for themselves the belief of mankind,—until John Albert Fabricius, as far back as the beginning of the last century, could fill some volumes with an enumeration of the Codex Pseudepigraphus of the Old Testament alone.

One of the most notable of more recent literary forgeries of this kind was perpetrated about a hundred years ago, when a thin quarto of about sixty pages appeared, bearing as title, "The Book of Jasher, with Testimonies and Notes explanatory of the Text; to which is prefixed various Readings, translated into English from the Hebrew, by Alcuin, of Britain, who went a Pilgrimage into the Holy Land." According to the story, Alcuin of Britain (who, by the way, was never out of Europe) went a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and reached the city of Gazna. He took with him two companions, who learned with him, in the University of Oxford, (which, be it remembered, was not founded till long after Alcuin's death,) "all those languages which the people of the East speak." At Gazna he sent wedges of gold to the Treasurer, the Custos, and the Recorder of the city all this was to unlock a precious treasure which was in the keeping of these worthies. The treasure was a manuscript which was safely guarded in a chest divided into compartments. "It is written," we read, "in large characters, and exceeding beautiful. The paper on which it is wrote," (although, unfortunately for the credit of the story, the art of manufacturing paper was not known for three or more centuries after Alcuin's time,)" is for thickness the eighth of an inch. To the touch it seemed as soft as velvet, and to the eye as white as snow." He then describes the trouble involved in obtaining a translation,

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