NEW NOVELS. * WHATEVER else may be thought of Perversion, or

the Causes and Consequences of Infidelity, it is powerful as a composition. There is a good deal of matter derived from an observation of society and an interest in the questions of the day : there is a knowl

of life, especially as it exists in schools, the Universities parish in the clerical sense, and the classes connected with educa- tion and religion. The thoughts of the writer are well presented, not with the balanced periods or rhetorical phrases of the littera- teur, but with the power of unconscious mastery which his train- ing gives to the scholar, using language as a medium to express thought : an unflagging energy sustains the writer from first to last.

The story is not so good. It is cleverly managed, and in parts it excites the interest of the reader in the events narrated. But it rather exhibits the dexterity of a skilful contriver than the spontaneity of a gifted story-teller. Public events are pressed into the service, sometimes in connexion with the tale,—as the system of tyranny at schools, the " larks " and evil living of mili- tary officers in barracks, the differences in the Church, and the fanatical imposture of Mormonism. At other times the connexion is not so close,—as the shipwreck of a steamer, which conduces to nothing beyond the scene itself. The incidents of the story are not all very new ; an attempt at a false marriage which turns out to be a true one, with the villany of an attorney and a public trial, are staple means of interest in romance. Of late years, school and university life, with sketches of clergymen and religious peo- ple, have been introduced into novels ; but they are not so hack- nied. The characters, like the story, are occasionally old enough. Armstrong, afterwards Archer, the atheistical villain of the book —strong in constitution and Will, wantonly cruel in his school days, cautiously licentious in the army, excelling everybody at the university, controlling every one who comes in contact with him by dint of genius, adaptability, and will—is one of those im- possible creations continually met with in novels. Bampton, who probably is the hero after all, with his genius, taste, and infirm- of purpose from weakness of resolution, has more novelty. Ilis sister Clara, with equal genius, but more will running into obstinacy, is still newer. The object of this " tale for the times," as the title implies, is to guard people if possible against "the causes and consequences of infidelity." The exaggeration and want of natural coherence which appear in the story as a work of art, are shown in the theological illustrations. There are three leading infidels or sceptics—Archer, Bampton, and his sister. But it is difficult under the circumstances to see " causes " that admit of remedy, or " consequences " that are natural or likely. Archer is by nature an Atheist, because, we are told, he is by nature of a bad, selfish, tyrannical disposition. The Manchester Unitarians do not convince him of anything; the "Progressive Review" and the German Rationalists to which they introduce him only give shape to his foregone conclusions. Except, perhaps, in skilful arguing with others, he would have been just the same without Atkinson, Miss Martineau, and the Pantheists, but more coarse, probably brutal. It is the same with Bampton. and Clara: nature and cir- cumstances make them what they are ; the books they read or the discussions they hold having little influence one way or another. There is a good letter, expository of the right mode of looking at Christianity, by the clergyman who restores Bampton to the fold ; but it is an essay, not a necessary part of a fiction. There is a graver fault in Perversion than artistical and logical exaggeration. There is misrepresentation of classes, with, ap- parently, an eye to individuals. - This seems done for the sake of artistical effect ; which is hardly attained, while the logical re- sult is simply mischievous. The scenes at the grammar. school appear over-coloured. The torments to which Bampton is sub- jected in the bedroom, if such a case ever occurred in fact, is for grave exposure or legal punishment, not for fiction. -Authorities as painted in these pages seem to be all narrow-minded, selfish, and looking to emoluments without regard to right or good feel- ing. Infidels are of course bad characters. In a didactic sense, the greatest defect of the book is, that except a few clergy- men and the poor they have converted, there would seem, ac- cording to the author, to be no Christians in the country. Low Church and Tractarians, with their respective followers, are all held up to ridicule as fools or to odium as hypocrites ; while some low and selfish or silly object is constantly assigned to numbers as their motive for professing religion. This broad painting, however, may be leoitunate as satire, though it is not consistent with & professed purposes of the writer. Such a character as this, followed by such a story, comes under the re- mark already made with respect to the proceedings at Lyngford School.

" The Reverend Henry Morgan was as ultra High Church. as Mr. Mooney was ultra Low Church ; in short, (to adopt the popular slang of the day,) Mr. Mooney was a Recordite,' and Mr. Morgan a Tractarian.' His father the Archdeacon was indeed one of the leaders of the last-named party ; for though he had been an infidel when at college, and now laughed in his sleeve at the opinions which he affected to advocate, he had a craving for * Perversion ; or the Causes and Consequences of Infidelity: a Tale for the Times. In three volumes. Published by Smith and Elder. The Sorrows of Gentility. By Geraldine E. Jewsbury, Author of "Constance Herbert," 4.c. In two volumes. Published by Hurst and Blackett. notoriety, which was gratified by his position as a 'party leader. At the same time, his passion for jobbing led him into so many malpractices, that it was almost necessary for him to command the services of a band of Janis- saries, who (from a spirit of partisanship) were ready to defend him whe- ther right or wrong. Moreover, he found it profitable to raise a dust around him by public agitation, in order to blind men's eyes to his private delin- quencies. In this, however he did not entirely succeed ; for his sharp practice occasionally brought 'him into the courts of law ; and his character had been roughly handled on such occasions, both by the speeches of coun- sel and by the verdicts of juries.

" The rectory of Chetwick, which he had just conferred upon his son, he had acquired in a characteristic manner. Its patronage belonged to an old lady, who knew nothing of business, and employed a stupid country attor- ney as her agent. When the rectory (which was one of the richest in the diocese) became vacant, she presented her grandson to it. " In reply, the Archdeacon, who acted as secretary to the Bishop, re- quested her to send her title-deeds to his solicitor for inspection, on the plea of his anxiety to satisfy himself that there could be no other claimant. To this demand her attorney was weak enough to consent. " After a delay of two months from the receipt of the deeds, the solicitor ed his doubts about the title, and raised some ingenious points of law affecting its validity.

" On these points a discussion was carried on between the solicitors on both sides, the Archdeacon professing the moat conscientious scrupulosity on the subject, declaring his anxiety to present the old lady's nominee, and only wishing to be quite sure that he should not involve himself in respon- sibiliV.by. so doing. " This discussion was spun out till the period of six months was over, after which every vacant living lapses to the bishop.

" Then the mask was thrown aside. The episcopal secretary wrote to say that his lordship had satisfied himself that Mrs. Jones's title was de- fective ; and the next day the Bishop collated Henry Morgan to the bene- fice."

If this story is true as a particular fact, fiction is not the place for it, unless it were distinctly limited ; for readers are apt to take dramatic characters as types of a class or a principle. In reality, it seems scarcely possible as a fact. No patron, no legal adviser, would submit to such an episcopal swindle ; for the Bishop is the responsible person though the Archdeacon is the actor. Some Churchmen will stand a good deal, but they would scarcely stand a scandal like this. There is a measure even in abuses.

An important lesson is aimed at in Miss jewsbury's fiction of The Sorrows of Gentility. To point the moral of consequences is the object of the writer—that any act, or any habit, great or

small, carries consequences with it which cannot be removed by effort, or remedied by repentance, but must be received as a bur- den and borne. This idea is worked out with skill and felicity. The illustrations are natural, moderate, and complete, without the frequent onesidedness of didactic stories. The observations of the writer, marking the moral, are terse and to the point. The dramatis personae are consistent, without the usual extremes of good and evil in which other novelists as well as the didactic indulge. Occasionally there may appear a little exaggeration, or that kind of concentrated strength which belongs to the drama ; but this seems done to " keep up the character," rather than from any mistaken notion of effect. There is also a second moral, against educating children above their sphere ; but this is more open to objection.

The subject matter of the book is not equal to the purpose or the treatment. The fastidious reader will think- much of

it low, or at least below the elevation of fiction ; and though human nature' may be always the same, our interest in it varies with circumstances, and the more elevated the embodiment the larger the moral. The person who illustrates " the sorrows of gentility" is the daughter of a wealthy innkeeper of the old school ; an admirably-drawn character, from his mixture of the goodness of the animal qualities with the more vulgar moral vices, as love of money. By the influence of her mother, Gertrude Morley is sent to a fashionable boarding-school • where the inn-

keeper's daughter is a subject of tart remark. ?When she returns

home, well-educated and acco4lished, the coarseness of her father and brother, the homely teasi4 love of her mother, the bustle of the house, and the vulgar manners of her associates, make her miserable. Summoned, unwillingly enough, by the father, to be the companion of a school friend during her convalescence, she sadly contrasts the quiet arrangements of a country gentle- man a house with the noise and disturbances of the Metringham Arnie. A young Irishman of ancient family, half fortune-hunter, half place-hunter, but too impulsive for the former role, falls desperately in love with her. Tired of a repulsive home, anxious to rise above her station, and with no firm moral or religious principles, Gertrude elopes to Gretna Green with Mr. Augustus Donelly ; and her troubles begin. The dowager Mrs. Donelly is very poor, but very stately in her ways ; Miss Donelly is veiy proud ; both are disappointed with the match ; and poor Gertrude leads a comfortless life with them. Matters lighten a little when Augustas gets a place, but are overcast again when his mother

and sister come to live with them ; get gloomier still when debts overwhelm the establishment, and Mr. Donelly has to depart for Boulogne. Gertrude has been forgiven and is received by her father • but the consequences of her injudicious education and her undutiful conduct pursue her for rears, partly with her own family, but still more hardly when living with her reckless, ex- travagant, and good-natured husband—if an easy selfish indiffer- ence that will not disturb itself is to be so termed. This is the state of things some years after the first break-up of the family. Augustus has been abroad a second time, and has just returned to live upon the exertions of his wife, who prefers earning her bread - to residing with her parents. "Mr. Augustus, having received a suit of new clothes from the tailor, was scarcely ever at home. He did not tell his wife whither he went, nor how he passed his time ; but he never failed to ask her for money before he went out. He had quite overcome his objection to seeing her manty- make,' or do anything else she pleased to earn money. He seemed now to accept it as a matter of course that she was to work, and that he was always to obtain money from her for the asking.

" This was neither a right nor a wise mode of proceeding ,• but Gertrude disliked the sight of him so much, and was so exceedingly thankful to have him out of the house on any terms, that she gave him money from her hoarded store, lest if she should refuse he should sit and lounge over the fire all day.

" She accustomed him to have breakfast in his own room i she always prepared it carefully, and took it to him herself. The only time when he decided to breakfast in the sitting-room, where she and Clarissa were at work, either from accident or design the difference in the comfort was so great that he never attempted it again.

" We are sorry to confess that she had contracted such an intense disgust and contempt for him, that her sole study was to isolate him, and to have as little of his society as possible. She never showed any irritation of tem- per—she never complained, or found fault with him ; she attended to his comfort—studied his convenience—always spoke gently to him ; but there was with all this a smooth marble coldness of manner, an intangible some- thing, that repelled all companionship. She was there as regarded her bodily presence, coldly irreproachable ; but she herself was all the while separated and concealed as behind a wall of ice. If Mr. Augustus had re- tamed a spark of affection for his wife, he would have suffered much ; but as he was quite indifferent, it did not hurt his feelings in the least. Still he was aggravated by the cold dignified aversion she manifested, which he had sense enough to perceive, although she gave him no excuse for fin fault. His wounded amour propre soon converted indifference into a d smouldering dislike, which grew stronger every day.

"The genuine feeling, whatever it may be, from which our actions spring always makes itself felt; and all that Gertrude gained by her impeccable be- haviour was, that her husband never felt the slightest gratitude for any- thing she did, but had a fixed idea that she was very sorry he had not been devoured or murdered by savages, or come to some fatal end amongst his many adventures, and that she would bo very glad if he would once more go away and never come back again—in fact, that she wished him dead on any terms. Mr. Augustus, with all his faults, was not a malicious man ; on the contrary. he was good-natured. This was fortunate for Gertrude, as he did not give 'himself the trouble to torment her by the only means in his power—viz. stopping at home. To be sure, it would have been a bore to himself to have done so : he therefore took the less obnoxious course of 'scorning to stop where ho was not wanted,' took his liberty and all the money she could give him, and considered that he was to be pitied for having a wife with such a confoundedly bad temper."