# Zanoni/Vol. 1/Book 1

NOVELS
OF
SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON
Library Edition
ROMANCES
VOL. IV.
ZANONI
BY
SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, BART.
LIBRARY EDITION — IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXI
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH
TO
JOHN GIBSON, R.A.,
SCULPTOR.
In looking round the wide and luminous circle of our great living Englishmen, to select one to whom I might fitly dedicate this work,—one who, in his life as in his genius, might illustrate the principle I have sought to convey;—elevated by the ideal which he exalts, and serenely dwelling in a glorious existence with the images born of his imagination,—in looking round for some such man, my thoughts rested upon you. Afar from our turbulent cabals—from the ignoble jealousy and the sordid strife which degrade and acerbate the ambition of Genius,—in your Roman Home, you have lived amidst all that is loveliest and least perishable in the Past, and contributed with the noblest aims, and in the purest spirit, to the mighty heirlooms of the Future. Your youth has been devoted to toil, that your manhood may be consecrated to fame;—a fame unsullied by one desire of gold. You have escaped the two worst perils that beset the Artist in our time and land — the debasing tendencies of Commerce, and the angry rivalries of Competition. You have not wrought your marble for the market—you have ​not been tempted, by the praises which our vicious criticism has showered upon exaggeration and distortion, to lower your taste to the level of the Hour; you have lived, and you have laboured, as if you had no rivals but in the Dead—no purchasers, save in judges of what is best. In the divine Priesthood of the Beautiful, you have sought only to increase her worshippers and enrich her temples. The pupil of Canova, you have inherited his excellences, while you have shunned his errors:—yours his delicacy, not his affectation. Your heart resembles him even more than your genius: you have the same noble enthusiasm for your sublime profession—the same lofty freedom from envy, and the spirit that depreciates—the same generous desire, not to war with, but to serve. Artists in your art; aiding, strengthening, advising, elevating the timidity of inexperience, and the vague aspirations of youth. By the intuition of a kindred mind, you have equalled the learning of Winckelman, and the plastic poetry of Goethe, in the intimate comprehension of the antique. Each work of yours, rightly studied, is in itself a criticism illustrating the sublime secrets of the Grecian Art, which, without the servility of plagiarism, you have contributed to revive amongst us; in you we behold its three great and long-undetected principles—simplicity, calm, and concentration.
But your admiration of the Greeks has not led you to the bigotry of the mere Antiquarian, nor made you less sensible of the unappreciated excellence of the mighty Modern, worthy to be your countryman,—though till his statue is in the streets of our capital, we show ourselves not worthy of the glory he has shed upon our land: You have not suffered even your gratitude to Canova to blind ​you to the superiority of Flaxman. When we become sensible of our title-deeds to renown in that single name, we may look for an English public capable of real patronage to English Art,—and not till then.
I, Artist in words, dedicate, then, to you, Artist, whose ideas speak in marble, this well-loved work of my matured manhood. I love it not the less because it has been little understood and superficially judged by the common herd: it was not meant for them. I love it not the more because it has found enthusiastic favourers amongst the Few. My affection for my work is rooted in the solemn and pure delight which it gave me to conceive and to perform. If I had graven it on the rocks of a desert, this apparition of my own innermost mind, in its least-clouded moments, would have been to me as dear: And this ought, I believe, to be the sentiment with which he whose Art is born of faith in the truth and beauty of the principles he seeks to illustrate, should regard his work. Your serener existence, uniform and holy, my lot denies—if my heart covets. But our true nature is in our thoughts, not our deeds: And therefore, in Books—which are his Thoughts—the Author's character lies bare to the discerning eye. It is not in the life 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.
PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1853.
As a work of imagination, Zanoni ranks, perhaps, amongst the highest of my prose fictions. In the Poem of King Arthur, published many years afterwards, I have taken up an analogous design, in the contemplation of our positive life through a spiritual medium: and I have enforced, through a far wider development, and, I believe, with more complete and enduring success, that harmony between the external events which are all that the superficial behold on the surface of human affairs, and the subtle and intellectual agencies which in reality influence the conduct of individuals, and shape out the destinies of the World. As Man has two lives — that of action and that of thought — so I conceive that work to be the truest representation of Humanity which faithfully delineates both, and opens some elevating glimpse into the sublimest mysteries of our being, by establishing the inevitable union that exists between the plain things of the day, in which our earthly bodies perform their allotted part, and the latent, often uncultivated, often invisible, affinities of the soul with all the powers that eternally breathe and move throughout the Universe of Spirit.
​I refer those who do me the honour to read Zanoni with more attention than is given to ordinary romance, to the Poem of King Arthur, for suggestive conjecture into most of the regions of speculative research, affecting the higher and more important condition of our ultimate being, which have engaged the students of immaterial philosophy in my own age.
Affixed to the "Note" with which this work concludes, and which treats of the distinctions between type and allegory, the reader will find, from the pen of one of our most eminent living writers, an ingenious attempt to explain the interior or typical meanings of the work now before him.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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