INTRODUCTION.
The historical romance of Mr. Keon, now republished with the author's most cordial permission and his latest corrections, was first printed in London, in 1866, by Mr. Bentley, publisher in ordinary to the Queen. The edition was brought out in a very handsome style, and sold at the high price of a guinea. Notwithstanding the heavy price at which the work was furnished to our transpontine kinsfolk, (or at least to the "upper ten thousand" of them,) it is at this moment out of print, and an effort made about two years ago to procure copies for sale in this country was unsuccessful. The copy kindly sent us by the author was accidentally mislaid for several months, and this circumstance, together with the desire to give our readers the opportunity of perusing the work as soon as their attention should be directed to it by a notice such as its high merit demands, caused us to delay the proper public acknowledgment to the author until the present moment. Its success in England, in spite of the nationality and religion of the writer, is no slight proof of its intrinsic excellence, especially when we consider that he ventured into a field which the subject-matter of the book would turn into the very home and headquarters of English prejudice.
To every effect adequate cause; and, in this instance, to those who take up the story of Dion, one cause of its success will, before they have gone half way through its events and adventures, speak for itself. Yet, however light to read, the work has, we feel convinced, been in the last degree laborious both to plan and to execute. "Easy writing," said Thomas Moore, "very often makes fearfully hard reading." We believe the converse has often proved equally true.
We are glad to learn that Mr. Keon has recently received a far more gratifying recognition of his distinguished merit than any other to which a Catholic author can aspire. At a private audience granted him by Pius IX., His Holiness complimented him on his services to literature and religion, and gave him a beautiful rosary of pearl as a token of his august favor.
One word more, and we shall let the story itself begin to be heard. The epoch of Dion was the turning-point of all human history—the hinge of the fateful gates, the moment of the mightiest and most stupendous transition our world has ever known, the transition of transitions; the moment on this earth of a superplanetary, supercosmic drama. There were two suns in the heavens; one rising, never to set; the other going down to rise no more. At no epoch had human genius blazed so luminous, or human pride poised itself on wings so wide, in a sphere so sublime; but this genius was for the first time confronted in its own sphere by divine inspiration and a supernatural authority. The setting of a classic though pagan day saw the dawning day of Christianity. There were two suns in one sky at the same moment. The doubtful cross-lights of two civilizations over-arched the world with a vault of shifting, contending, contrary, and awful splendors—those of one order in the utmost intensity of their radiance, those of the other in their first, glimmering beginnings; a seeming confusion; an internecine war; a hazy mingling of embattled glories as full of meaning as it was of mystery.
Ed. Cath. World.