collection is otherwise? The lingering and fitful charities of the churches may forbid their enlarging it as they desire, and as the wants of our own and foreign lands require. The Nonconformist literature has many volumes they would gladly add to their existing collection. There are two other great eras of religious conflict and effort, from the literature of which the London Tract Society has drawn largely, and this Institution as yet not at all. We allude to the era of the stormy infancy of the Scottish National Church, and the works of its Rutherford, its Guthrie, its Binning, its Andrew Gray, and its Durham. The other greater and earlier era is that of the English Reformation. Of the works of the English reformers our British brethren have published several volumes. As to the present availableness of this latter literature we are aware that there is division of opinion; but its history would be valuable, if not its remains.

Nor is the American Tract Society to be judged as if it had completed its own designs, or finished its mission as respects a native religious literature. Its power to elicit works drawn up with peculiar reference to our position and habits as a people, has as yet been shown but in a small degree. The churches of this country are capable of much more, and need much more; and, if duly sustained, the Society may proceed in this work to a point far beyond the limit of its present attainments. Will the churches afford this aid? Here at least they will haveif they choose, by prayer, and effort, and liberality, to secure it-they will have a literature all that they can wish, as to its national adaptation.

And if our country and others that have been long favored with the serene and pure light of the Gospel are yet to know days of dark and stormy controversy with error; if over the once peaceful encampments of our churches is spreading the bum that betokens an approaching combat; if, as some fear, we are entering in our times upon a stern and close conflict with Romanism or with skepticism, or with both; or are to stand up for our national morals and national existence against the floods of a frivolous and profligate literature that now drowns the minds of our youth as beneath a rushing deluge of inanity, and filth, and venom, we have little fear as to the result. We cannot distrust the powers and the triumphs of Scripture, the safety and ultimate victories of the church. In the God of the Bible and the Head of the Church we need not fear to place

the most unquestioning and imperturbable confidence. He who gave the Bible will guard the gift; and He who built will watch, as with a wall of fire, around the city of his own chosen Jerusalem. And, from all the past history of the church, we augur that out of this or any other conflict that may be awaiting us in the interval between our times and the final glory of Christ's kingdom, there may grow some of the richest productions of that literature which the church is yet to enjoy; a literature as yet unwritten, and which this Institution, we trust, will, with others, aid in educing, diffusing, and perpetuating. Some of the richest legacies which sanctified genius has ever bequeathed to the Christian church are like that more cherished portion which the dying patriarch gave to his favorite son, his Joseph, "One portion above thy brethren, which I took out of the hand of the Amorite with my sword and with my bow;" the spoils plucked as out of the very teeth of the Destroyer, the trophies of a late and hard-won victory.

ARTICLE V.

MORAL AND LITERARY INFLUENCE OF NOVELS.

By E. D. Sanborn, Prof. of the Latin Language and Literature, Dartmouth College, N. H.

WHEN the human mind is in a healthy condition, there is a pleasure in mere intellectual activity. But it is the cultivated student only who can derive intense enjoyment from long-protracted and patient thought. To the undisciplined mind severe application is always painful. Hence a large proportion of mankind seek pleasure in novelty and variety. Any change is preferable to monotony. The more rapid the succession of strange events, which pass before the eye, the greater is the satisfaction experienced. In the gratification of this natural curiosity of untutored minds, the memory and imagination are chiefly employed. The other faculties are liable to remain weak and infantile from mere inaction. The imagination needs less stimulus than any of the other native powers of the soul. It

is usually most active in children, and of course the most difficult to control. It seems to occupy a middle ground between sense and the understanding. Its pleasures are not so gross as those of sense, nor so refined as those of the understanding. This faculty is peculiarly active among rude nations that are just breaking the fetters of sense, and aspiring to intellectual freedom. Imagination then has a boundless range of action, and an exhaustless supply of materials. With memory for her ally, she subdues and governs the whole empire of mind. Hoary tradition and youthful history alike wear her livery, and obey her behests. The most common events are clothed with mystery, and the ordinary exploits of heroes, under her magic touch, become feats of superhuman power. Every event, whose cause is not apparent to the untaught barbarian, is ascribed to the immediate interposition of a god. Mythology is the product of this unrestrained activity of the imagination. It requires ages of improvement to subdue this fondness for fiction, and to reduce the monstrous exaggerations of a youthful people to the just proportions of history. Invention always precedes judgment and taste in the progress of civilization. Passion appears before reason. Men feel and enjoy before they reason and judge. Hence poetry, which is the language of emotion, precedes prose. Romance is earlier than history. Every nation, in its infancy, has its age of miracles, and its tales of wonder. We need not, therefore, resort to northern Sagas, to Oriental fable, or to the fragments of classic_superstition, to find the origin of romantic fiction in Europe. It is the natural product of the soil where it is found. "In reality," says Mr. Southey, "mythological and romantic tales are current among all savages of whom we have any full accounts; for man has his intellectual as well as his bodily appetites, and these things are the food of his imagination and faith. They are found wherever there is language and discourse of reason; in other words, wherever there is man. And in similar stages of civilization, or states of society, the fictions of different people will bear a corresponding resemblance, notwithstanding the difference of time and scene." These tales lose their hold upon the popular mind only through the influence of refinement and intellectual culture. The stories which please the child, become insipid to the youth, and offensive to the man of years. The traditions of a youthful people lose their charms when the higher faculties are developed, and are finally rejected from history as unworthy of credit.

Among the ancient Greeks fiction usually wore the poetic dress. Except the Cyropædia of Xenophon, we find nothing resembling the modern romance in the palmy days of Grecian literature. Fable and allegory were often used for the purpose of imparting instruction or admonition which might be offensive to the hearers. Epic and dramatic poetry was the ordinary vehicle of didactic instruction and romantic fiction. The ancient drama and epic afford but little variety of character and incidents. The materials were wanting for a complete delineation of human nature in all its phases. What we call society was scarcely known among the Greeks and Romans. Females were degraded, and, of course, the domestic virtues were not appreciated. Refined love, which is regarded as an essential element of the modern novel, was scarcely known. There was no middle class in the community from which the most interesting originals are usually drawn. Poetic characters were mostly taken from the higher classes. Persons of low rank, to be sure, were often brought upon the stage, yet they had nothing to distinguish them from other individuals of the same class. They generally acted as slaves or low buffoons. There was nothing in them decidedly attractive and original, as in the characters of "ancient Pistol," or "mine host of the Garter." Such characters as these become the personal friends of the reader, and he highly prizes their acquaintance. The old poet depended for success rather upon the striking exploits or bold adventures of his heroes, than upon their peculiar characteristics. Time and place were of more importance than thought and sentiment. great variety of character could not be expected, where the persons represented were confined to one class, and mostly to one sex; and where there was no press to perpetuate, by memoirs, epistles and history, the peculiarities of individuals. Hence there is a certain air of uniformity and stiffness in the ancient drama. The exhibition of private life and the play of domestic affections, which give grace and interest to the modern drama and novel, were wanting. When classic literature declined, works of romance became more numerous. These also exhib

A

ited the peculiar characteristics of the age in which they originated. But few of them give evidence of profound thought or originality of invention. Indeed we could expect nothing more from an age of mental and physical decrepitude. In the dark ages monks and minstrels were the chief representatives of the literary world. In Italy, literature first revived. Her authors

first dared to break the trammels of the classics, and to clothe their thoughts in the language of the people. "It was there, too," says an English writer," that those novels or tales were first cultivated which are fitted to attract every class of society, because they reflect the manners of all classes. This species of writing reached great perfection in Italy, before literature had attained that maturity, in any other country of Europe, which could enable it to emulate the excellence which that country so early reached in poetry. At that time, the poetry of most countries of Europe was confined to the rude though occasionally vigorous effusions of wandering minstrels, and their metrical tales were afterwards extended into voluminous romances, in prose, which reflected those notions of love, war and chivalry, that were universally prevalent, from the existing state of society." The age of chivalry abounded in works of fiction, or rather in monstrous histories of real adventures embellished by fancy. Every thing, in literature, as in real life, was wild and extravagant. Romance ruled the world. One mighty spell rested upon society. Men dwelt in fairy-land. Their castles were enchanted; their strong-holds guarded by dragons. Fair ladies were imprisoned, and brave knights encountered unheard-of perils, to deliver them. There was a strange commingling of passions. Love and valor were wedded. The weaker passion became the master, and proud and turbulent warriors submitted to its dictates. Of course, love and heroism were the principal themes of literary discussion. Poetry and romance united to celebrate feminine charms and masculine prowess. From this hybridous union of passion and folly arose the countless romances of chivalry. They were read, admired and imitated till the world was flooded with extravagant fictions, and men went mad with the delicious intoxication. The peculiar state of society and manners gave birth to these frivolous, absurd, and, in some instances, licentious productions, and they, in turn, reacted upon society and contributed materially to the continuance of those institutions which had already become useless and burdensome. But as the institutions of chivalry lost their hold upon the popular mind, this species of literature declined. The matchless wit and irony of Cervantes finally brought it into utter contempt, and restored men to the use and guidance of the understanding. When the romances of chivalry lost their popularity, authors sought a different species of entertainment for the public. As society SECOND SERIES, VOL. IX. NO. II. 8