ny attractive lights nothing better to her,
after all, than "fabula ista de Christo"? Are the various forms under
which she has exhibited it no more for her than the Mahometan and Hindoo
systems were for the poet of Thalaba and Kehama? Has she been carrying
out in these novels the precepts of that chapter in which Dr. Strauss
teaches his disciples how, while believing the New Testament narrative
to be merely mythical, they may yet discharge the functions of the
Christian preacher without exposing themselves by their language to any
imputation of unsoundness? But, even apart from this distressing
question, there is much to interfere with the hope and the interest with
which we should wish to look forward to the future career of a writer so
powerful and so popular as the authoress of these books--much to awaken
very serious apprehensions as to the probable effect of her influence.
No one who has looked at all into our late fictitious literature can
have failed to be struck with the fondness of many of the writers of the
day for subjects which at an earlier time would not have been thought
of, or would have been carefully avoided. The idea that fiction should
contain something to soothe, to elevate, or to purify seems to be
extinct. In its stead there is a love for exploring what would be better
left in obscurity; for portraying the wildness of passion and the
harrowing miseries of mental conflict; for dark pictures of sin and
remorse and punishment; for the discussion of questions which it is
painful and revolting to think of. By some writers such themes are
treated with a power which fascinates even those who most disapprove the
manner in which it is exercised; by others with a feebleness which shows
that the infection has spread even to the most incapable of the
contributors to our circulating libraries. To us the influence of the
"Jack Shepherd" school of literature is really far less alarming than
that of a class of books which is more likely to find its way into the
circles of cultivated readers, and, most especially, to familiarize the
minds of our young women in the middle and higher ranks with matters on
which their fathers and brothers would never venture to speak in their
presence. It is really frightful to think of the interest which we have
ourselves heard such readers express in criminals like Paul Ferroll, and
in sensual ruffians like Mr. Rochester: and there is much in the
writings of "George Eliot" which, on