MR. JAMES'S AGINCOURT.

TEE avowal of Mr. JAMES in the preface to the collected edition of his novels, that he dictates his works off-hand to an amanuensis, explains many things connected with them that were formerly mysterious. When a man has brought himself to speak off a novel extempore, the number produced is not surprising. Neither is their heavy style at all difficult of comprehension ; together with their uniform character as regards composition, and pretty much as re- gards interest, though broken here and there by a powerful scene or two, and sometimes by a more stirring and rapid story. Take a man well read in history and archreology, so as to have personages, public events, customs and costumes, ready to his hand, or procurable at a moment's notice like articles in a well-arranged shop—let travel and a spice of connoisseurship have acquainted him with the general and local character of countries and buildings—give him sufficient metaphysical skill to conceive and develop his characters and ac- count learnedly for their motives of action, with enough knowledge of the world to avoid gross and glaring errors in the conduct of his personages—and you have the raw materials of a speaking novelist. Add to these an acquaintance with the principal fictions, and much dexterity in turning their materials to account without plagiarism or very readily-detected imitation—give him the habit of arranging the plan of a chapter or two in his mind, and the knack, acquired by resolution and practice, of continuously uttering his ideas aloud—and you have the speaking novelist complete, as ready to set to work when his amanuensis has got his pen and paper, as a barrister when the Court has taken its seat, or the charged orator of the Commons when he catches the Speaker's eye. Such a mode of composition is by no means favourable to finished excellence. The toil of writing is a great friend to condensation. The desire to avoid mechanical labour induces a habit of con- sidering not only bow to say a thing in the shortest way, but the shortest way in which masses of things may be expressed : it in- fluences structure as well as diction. If the drudgery of writing could be put upon orators, they would be much briefer than they are, as the physical impediments of lungs or voice may be observed to compel closeness and clearness in some speakers. Another dis- advantage of oral writing, at least of such regularly productive wri- ting as that of Mr. JAMES, is the want of time for selecting and shaping the materials, as well as for testing their effects, by some interposed delay—to say nothing of the loss of lucky moments, contrasted with the necessity of having to write invitd Minervd. The scribe, indeed, might be willing enough to lose a day or two ; but the author's character for fluency is at stake, and on he goes, though he is too often making those commonplaces which all cul- tivated men possess in their own art, and that power of composi- tion which comes by habit, do the work of appropriate matter, expressed under a strong perception of the subject.

The manufacturing principle of production to which this plan gives rise is exhibited by Mr. JAMES in various ways. It appears in the general heaviness of his composition, especially in description ; which is too literal, as if (we can now see) the writer were reckon- ing up the parts in his own mind, rather than conveying a general impression. It is shown in the long topographical and historical descriptions of some of his beginnings, the slow progress of his narratives, and his frequent reflections, as if he fell back upon commonplaces when invention failed, merely to keep his man at work. In structure it appears by carrying the hero about in order to introduce him to the great men and grand doings of the age ; and though long practice and a critical judgment prevent Mr. JAMES from falling into the burlesque proceedings of inferior novelists, yet it is easy to perceive that the scenes are introduced rather for their own sake than necessarily to carry on the story. Sometimes, too, he violates a rule which forbids the introduction of agents without accounting for them before and afterwards : those who influence action should not "come like shadows so de- part." But the most mischievous effect of such a regular busi- ness-like system of word-spinning is to prevent rejection—to give the world the every-day run of a man's mind. An author who writes his book has time for pause when he has chosen a bad or inferior subject, and is tempted, perhaps enforced, to discard it. A speak- ing author has no memento of this kind: he goes on without a drag to check him ; hurries off his manuscript, that he may set to work again ; and, like Mr. JAMES, publishes a great many works inferior to his true powers, and very often repetitions of himself. .Agincourt is not among the best of Mr. JAMES'S productions, still less is it among the worst. As is usual with him, he exhibits a good deal of knowledge of the externals of the age, and of what might have been the appearances of the country. Henry the Fifth it introduced in the opening as Hal, in the close as Harry at .Agincourt, and in the intermediate parts as Henry. The hero, a country squire of that age, in modern language a gentleman of family and estate, brings before us the old English hospitality of

the fifteenth century : in search of fame and knighthood, or rather to fill out the story, he is carried to the English and Burgundian courts, engaged in the outbreaks between France and Burgundy ; does many feats of arms ; and, though under suspicion by the villanies of a rival, is present and valorous at Agincourt. Obvious characteristics of the age are also introduced,—the Lollar& at home, the Hussite& abroad ; the minstrels in their decline ; and the soldiers, priests, and nobility of the period. But the whole is crude and composite ; not a patchwork, but a made article, such as a well-stored novel-wright could at any time supply from the regular stock of fictions. There is a knightly villain, much like other melo-

dramatic villains, though his modus operandi is not always clearly

explained, and his crimes seem to produce much more effect than was likely. There is a sub-villain, an old follower of Prince

Hal, joining with the chief villain out of revenge for a blow,—

which a hero ought not to have struck : but, as in the other case, his villanies seem of a character that were im- practicable. There is a murder at the opening which turns out to be no murder at the close, for a striking effect by the supposed dead coming to life. There is a minstrel-girl befriended by Woodville, who to some extent acts the part of SCOTT'S extra- ordinary agents, as she is obviously suggested by them ; and there is the usual variety of incidents. But, properly speaking, there is no action, and hardly a story. The marriage of Woodville and Mary might as well take place at the opening as at the close ; the successive stages scarcely clear away the scrupulous difficulty which the author has created ; and even when her father is discovered and his consent gained, the ceremony is put off, merely for more adventures.

One of the best scenes in the book, and the one best adapted for extract, is where Woodville, in the Burgundian service, rescues a party from a mill on an island where they are in danger of being swept away by a flood. The description of the landscape, the storm, and the swelling waters, is powerful; but we commence at a climax, when Woodville is preparing to attempt the rescue, in despite of the remonstrance of his superior officer.

" Why are you stripping off your casque and camail, Sir Richard?' asked the Count.

• Because I imagine they may soon want help, my good Lord,' replied the young Knight. • Madness ' cried the Lord of St. Paul; 'no man could swim such a tor- rent as that.'

" ' I do not know that, noble sir,' answered Richard of Woodville; 'we are great swimmers in my country, and accustomed to buffet with the waves. But there is a boat higher up. I will first try that ; and if that sinks, swimming

must serve me.' • • "Thus saying, he sped on to the very brink of the water; which, instead of decreasing, was still rising rapidly. There, he tried to make the people of the

mill hear him ; and they shouted from the casement in reply, but the roaring of the torrent drowned their words; and, hurrying up to the spot where he had seen the boat moored, he found it, now far out from the actual brink of the stream, swaying backwards and forwards with the eddies. The top of the post, to which it was attached by a chain, and which an hour before had been some yards on shore, was now just visible above the rushing waters; but, wading in, the young Knight caught the chain, and drew the boat to him.

" It was luckily fiat, and somewhat heavy in its build; so that he managed to get in without upsetting it, but not without difficulty. The only imple- ments, however, which he found to guide its course, were one paddle soda large pole with an iron hook, such as he had seen in the hands of the people of the mill. Bat he had no hesitation—no fear ; and, throwing loose the chain, he

guided the boat into the middle of the stream, where, though the current was stronger, the eddies were less frequent. There it was borne forward with terrible rapidity towards what had been the island, but was no longer to be dis- tinguished from the rest of the stream but by the foaming ripple on either side, and the mill rising in the midst. "The bank of the river on the Eastern side was crowded by his own attend- ants and the followers of the Count of Sc. Paul; the windows of the mill, and

a little railed platform above the wheel, showed a multitude of anxious faces.

No one spoke—no one moved, however, but two stout Englishmen, who were seen upon the shore stripping off their arms and clothing; while the timbers

of the mill, and the posts and stanchions of the platform, quivered and shook with the roaring tide as it whirled, red and furious, past them, lingering in a curling vortex round, as if unwilling to dash on without carrying every ob- stacle along with it.

"Richard of Woodville raised not his eyes to look at those who hung be- tween death and life : he turned not to gaze at his companions on the shore :

he knew that every energy, eve7 thought was wanted to accomplish the great object ; and if he suffered his mind to stray for even a single instant to other things, it was but to think, I will show thore who have belied me that I can risk life, even for beings I do not know.' His eyes were fixed upon one spot, where the boiling of the tide evinced that the ground came near the surface; and there he determined first to check the furious speed at which he was hurried down the stream. A little further on were the strong standards and braces of a mill of those days; and he thought that if he could break the first rush of the boat at the shallow, he should be able more easily to bring her up under the casements and the platform.

"Now guiding with the paddle' now starting up to hold the boat-pike, he came headlong towards the shoal ; but, fending off till the speed of the boat was checked and she swung round with the torrent and drifted more slowly on, he

caught at the thick uprights of the mill with the hook—missed the first, grappled the second; and, though almost thrown over with the shock, held fast till the boat swung heavily round and struck with her broadside against the building. A rope was instantly thrown from above; and, tying it fast through a ring, which was to be found in the bow of all boats in those days, he relaxed his hold of the wood-work, and the skiff floated further round.

"Then first he looked up; and then first a feeling of deadly terror took possession of him. His cheek grew pale; his lips turned white; and, stretch- ing out his arms he exclaimed, 'Oh, Mary !—oh, my beloved! is it you on whom such peril has fallen 7—Quick, quick I' he continued, 'loge not a me- meat. The stream is coming down more and more strong—the building can- not stand. Bear her down quick, Sir John.' • Poo 1 the building will stand well enough,' said a:man, in a rude jargon of the French tongue. "Tin but that people are afraid.' '" Fool I ' cried Richard of Woodville, who saw the timbers quivering ea shaken by mortal agony; 'If you would save your life, come down with the rest.' " 'Not I,' answered -the miller with a laugh; 'I have seen as bad floods bo-

Tore now. Here, lady, here—set a foot upon the wheel ; it is made fast, and -cannot move. Catch her, young gentleman : nay, not so far, or you will up-

-set the boat I--that will do—there she is ! and Richard of Woodville, receiving Mary Grey in his arms, seated her in the stera of the boat, and again advanced to aid her women and the old Knight in descending. Two fair young girls, a young clerk in a black gown, and three armed servants, formed the train ; and they were the first to take refuge in the boat, leaving their horses behind them. There were three other men remained above, and laughed lightly at the thought -of danger; but one young lad, of fifteen years of age, though he too said he would stay, bore a white cheek and a wandering eye.

" ` Send down the boy, at least,' cried Richard of Woodville to the miller : though you may be foolhardy, there is no need to sacrifice his life.' "'Go, go, Edme,' said the miller ; you are as well there as here. "You can Ilia us no good.'

" The boy hesitated; but the increasing force of water made the mill tremble 4more violently than ever ; and, hurrying on, he sprang into the boat. ''Every one down, and motionless!' cried Richard of Woodville, without exchanging even a word with those who were most dear ; and, casting off the rope, he steered as well as the paddle would permit tewards the bank. But, 'hurried rapidly forward down the stream, with scarcely any power of direction, he saw that the frail bark must pass the ruined bridge. It was a moment of terrible anxiety ; for the eddies showed that the foundations of the piers were left beneath the waters. By impulse, the instinct of great peril, he guided the boat over the most violent gush of the stream, between two of the half-checked whirlpools; and she shot clear down, falling into another vortex below, a hich carried her completely round twice; and then, broken by the blade of the -paddle, let her float away into the stream. "The whole band of the Count of St. Paul were running down by the side of the river ; and, as the course of the skiff became more steady, Richard of Woodville turned his eyes towards them. They had got what seemed a rope in their hand,; and ever and anon one of his own archers held it up, and made -signs as if he would have thrown it had they been nearer.

" ' Some one be ready to catch the rope!' cried Woodville, 'I cannot quit -the steering '; and he guided the boat gently and gradually towards the shore. The young clerk sprang at once into the bow ; the women sat still in breath- less expectation. Sir John Grey advanced slowly and steadily to aid the youth ; and when, at the distance of a few yards, a band, formed of the sword-belts of the troop tightly tied together, was thrown on hoard, the young man and the old Knight caught it, but were putted down by the shock. Some of the others aided to hold it fast; but, in spite of all Woodville's efforts, the boat swung round, struck the rocky shore violently, and began to fill. "There were now many to aid, however; and one after another was sup- potted to the land."