of cities,--in the
turmoil and the crowd; it is in the still, the lonely, and more sacred
life, which for some hours, under every sun, the student lives (his
stolen retreat from the Agora to the Cave), that I feel there is between
us the bond of that secret sympathy, that magnetic chain, which unites
the everlasting brotherhood of whose being Zanoni is the type.

E.B.L. London, May, 1845.

INTRODUCTION.

One of the peculiarities of Bulwer was his passion for occult studies.
They had a charm for him early in life, and he pursued them with the
earnestness which characterised his pursuit of other studies. He
became absorbed in wizard lore; he equipped himself with magical
implements,--with rods for transmitting influence, and crystal balls
in which to discern coming scenes and persons; and communed with
spiritualists and mediums. The fruit of these mystic studies is seen in
"Zanoni" and "A strange Story," romances which were a labour of love to
the author, and into which he threw all the power he possessed,--power
re-enforced by multifarious reading and an instinctive appreciation
of Oriental thought. These weird stories, in which the author has
formulated his theory of magic, are of a wholly different type from his
previous fictions, and, in place of the heroes and villains of every
day life, we have beings that belong in part to another sphere, and that
deal with mysterious and occult agencies. Once more the old forgotten
lore of the Cabala is unfolded; the furnace of the alchemist, whose
fires have been extinct for centuries, is lighted anew, and the lamp
of the Rosicrucian re-illumined. No other works of the author,
contradictory as have been the opinions of them, have provoked such
a diversity of criticism as these. To some persons they represent
a temporary aberration of genius rather than any serious thought or
definite purpose; while others regard them as surpassing in bold and
original speculation, profound analysis of character, and thrilling
interest, all of the author's other works. The truth, we believe,
lies midway between these extremes. It is questionable whether the
introduction into a novel of such subjects as are discussed in these
romances be not an offence against good sense and good taste; but it
is as unreasonable to deny the vigour and originality of their author's
conceptions, as to deny that the execution is imperfect, and, at times,
bungling and absurd.

It has been justly said that th