Thine is the power by which we enter in!
Dum Spiro, Spero.
Reviews.
A MODERN MAGICIAN. A Romance, by J. Fitzgerald Molloy, in Three Volumes. Ward & Downey, 12, York Street, Covent Garden.
Opinions may be greatly divided as to the merits of this book; and to those who look for unexceptionable literary style as a primary element in fiction, it may not be satisfactory. But to all those who regard ideas as the first requisite, this work will probably prove of great interest. It has been somewhat curious to note the reception with which Mr. Molloy has met. The Pall Mall Gazette, for instance, devotes considerable length to him, and somewhat smartly calls him “a novelist born, but not made”; after which it proceeds, with more apparent animus than judiciousness, to criticise the pedantic style of conversation and narrative which the author occasionally makes use of. Curiously enough, the critic selects for his worst blows the phrases used by the chief inspector of the detectives. Now, if there is one thing more common than another, it is to find the half educated, but uncultured, men of the class from which police inspectors are drawn, using the longest words and phrases, not so much as a proof of their culture, as with the object of impressing their hearers. The reviewer was perhaps right to assail Mr. Molloy for sending his hero to Scotland Yard to hunt up news of his erring wife, who, as he was perfectly aware, had fled with another man. But this, and other trifling mistakes of similar character, are venial errors, and could only be so strongly animadverted upon in a paper which devotes itself to hunting plagiarisms in impossible places, through envy of successful authors; or by a reviewer who is a personal enemy of the author. As Macintosh well said: “The critic who is discerning in nothing but faults, may care little to be told that this is the mark of unenviable disposition, but he might not feel equally easy, were he convinced that he thus gives absolute proofs of ignorance and want of taste.” To make matters worse, and more interesting to Lucifer, the reviewer is plainly a partisan of the Society for Psychical Research, to which Mr. Molloy somewhat unfeelingly alludes as the “Society of Scientific Cackle.” The review in the Pall Mall Gazette starts with smartness and intelligence, but allows itself to run off into partisanship and prejudice. But all that is in strict keeping with the tone of a “Gazette” which generally starts useful work well, continues it badly, and ends by throwing mud out of the gutter at anybody or anything which happens to run counter to it. For instance, here is a specimen of the reviewer:
“As a story teller he (the author) is the Bobadil of fashionable mysticism: as a literary workman he is a pretentious bungler: his syntax is inconceivable, his dialogue impossible, his style a desperately careful expression of desperately slovenly thinking, his notions of practical affairs absurd, and his conception of science and philosophy a superstitious guess; yet he has an indescribable flourish, a dash of half-ridiculous poetry, a pathetic irresponsibility, a captivating gleam of Irish imagination, and, above all, an unsuspicious good nature, that compel a humane public to read his books rather than mortify him by a neglect which he has done nothing malicious to deserve.”
Such criticism can only be met from the point of view of the reviewer, by “Set a thief to catch a thief,” and from that of Mr. Molloy, by “Heaven save me from the penny-a-liners, actuated by personal animus!”
The reviewer may be allowed to have pointed out a few glaring errors in Mr. Molloy’s style and syntax, but we add that, in pointing these out, he has only exposed himself.
As regards the central figure of Benoni, the adept in the book, Lucifer may, perhaps, say a few words. Slightly as the character is drawn, and startling as are the deeds of this personage, there is a majesty about him which commands respect, and we may congratulate Mr. Molloy on his effort. We do not entirely accord with the author in the deeds which he sets Benoni to do, but with regard to the words and precepts which he puts into the adept’s mouth, we do absolutely agree, and recommend our readers, and especially all the Theosophists, to read Mr. Molloy’s book. Here the Pall Mall reviewer—being, as said, an admiring follower of the Society for Psychical Research—again falls foul of Mr. Molloy; but we may safely quote the impressive and truthful words of Benoni, and leave the rest to others.
Amerton, the hero of the book, reproaches the adept with having seen trouble approaching him, and with having neglected to warn him. Benoni replies: