THE HING AND TUE COUNTESS. * THE " King " of
this fiction is Francis the First ; the " Countess," the heiress of the fief or principality of Mirandola in Italy : the hero is an Eng- lish adventurer of gentle blood, self-banished, who after taking service with France has attached himself to the celebrated Constable Bourbon. The other historical personages are Charles the Fifth and his principal ministers and generals ; Louise of Savoy, the mother of Francis, through whose attach- ment to Bourbon and his rejection of it arose the affronts and persecutions that drove him from France; and Pope Clement, Loyola, the Chevalier Bayard, with some German and Italian soldiers. The historical events are those which led to Bourbon's escape from France and his alliance with the Emperor, followed by the Italian campaigns so disastrous to Francis, involving the repulse of Bonnivet, the King's defeat and captivity at Pavia, his long imprisonment at Madrid, and Bourbon's sack of Rome. The story of the romance arises from the determination of Charles to marry the heroine to a certain Count Struzzi, and the efforts of Esme Noel, the hero, to baffle the Emperor and the suitor : but the fortunes of the parties are so closely connected with the historical events, and indeed so dependent upon them, that The King and the Countess may truly be called an historical romance.
The book possesses the first quality of a novel—it is very read- able. In a mechanical or tangible point of view, this is owing to a clever structure, and a brief yet sufficient narrative. Each scene ad- vances the end, or is necessary to its comprehension ; and while enough is done to impress the persons and incidents on the mind, nothing is overdone. The narrative is rapid ; and if the writer does not always outrun the impatience of the reader, he at least keeps up with it, except in the scenes where the Countess of Mirandola is carried by command of the Emperor to the convent of the stern order of St. Anne of Zion, to be forced to take the veil ; whence she is rescued by Noel.
There are some deviations from strict history ; but the author possesses a good knowledge of the men and the times, and power enough to ex- hibit them. He is wanting in the higher requisites of a novelist. He aims at effective situations by unlikely and melodramatic means ; strictly speaking, the fortunes of his persons are so dependent upon the history, or the will of historical personages, that the story is without unity. He cannot realize the age. Except in a critical account, as it were, of the historical persons or the manners and costumes the story is of the present, not of the past ; the characters feel and speak like persons of the nine- teenth, not of the sixteenth century. Neither does the writer nationalize his dramatis persorue ; they are not Spaniards, Frenchmen, and Italians, but English. This deficiency in dramatic power may be inherent, or it may only require time and art to remedy. If the former is the case, we sus- pect the author has touched the highest point of his greatness in romanoe- writing. If the latter, he has a fair career before him ; since in the im- portant, though after all perhaps mechanical points of carrying the reader along, he is equalled by few novelists.
Among the different exploits in which the hero Noel is engaged, some- what after the fashion of Scott's Quentin Durward; he has to conduct the Dutchess of Alencou, the French King's sister, from Madrid to the fron- tiers, in order to pass the boundary before her safe-conduct has expired ; it having been discovered that Charles is determined to detain her should she outstay the hour. The journey is therefore one against time. A storm in the Pyrenees renders it doubtful whether the road is passable at all, even if it can be done within the hour fixed. The party had been delayed at a mountain venda, and with difficulty they procure a guide for the last stage.
"The contrabandista raised no further objection ; and their horses having by his advice been exchanged for mules, as more sure-footed, they resumed the as- cent to the pass. "Fierce gusts drove volumes of cloud higher and higher up the mountain; and soon the sun burst forth, unveiling every object. Before them rose immense piles of rock, resembling hideous monsters, ready to bound on their prey, or projecting like rained arches, which the slightest touch would hurl on the wayfarer, and so crush him to dust. Each moment the road became more rugged, and at length was ascended by small steps, cut in the solid rock. Steep bare .precipices met the eye below; blasted pines, starting from apparently-volcanic cavities, loomed over- head; and pinnacles and pillars of gigantic dimensions appeared on either side, seeming to totter before the wind. "Gaining the gorge, a precipitous path, strewn with roots and fallen trunks, conducted the travellers into a grove of pines, along the side of a ravine, through which the water flew in a torrent of foam. Farther on, a spring, gushing out of a natural grotto, fell down crags overgrown with lichens in innumerable cascades, bedding their united streams in a deep chasm, spanned by a rude pine bridge. "To this the mules descended by rugged steps; and Marguerite closed her eyes, afraid to look down. In a moment she was borne on to the bridge, and was hover- ing above the abyss. The timber creaked beneath the mule's hoof, and the cau- tious animal paused, making her heart sink with terror. Again he moved on; his tread grew firmer; it became steady; and, looking round, she found herself safe on a ledge of the mountain. " ' 'What say you, now, &inhere? 'asked the contrabandista. 'Will you go on ?' "'Assuredly. There can be nothing worse than this.'
" Senhora shall see. But we must leave the mules to the Maragutos, and trust now to our own limbs.'
"Alighting, he began to climb an immense block of limestone, in which notches were made for the foot, and, speedily effecting his ascent, bent down to assist Mar- guerite. The summit was a narrow ridge, overlooking at a fearful elevation the other side of the chasm, while the water was heard roaring below, though a pass- ing cloud hid it from sight. The little halting-place joined a huge acclivity of the mountain, rounding off in a sharp curve, belted with a goat-path, which ab- solutely overhung the fissans. "Marguerite involuntarily shuddered.
"'Will you go on, senhora? 'asked the contrabandist& " 'I am resolute. Lead the way.'
• The Xing and the Countess ; a Romance. In throe volumed. Published by Clot- "'Sanborn must go first. The path is slippery with rain, and my footsteps would make it more so. I will follow you.' Has there not been a bridge here?' asked Earoe, pointing to two poets. "'Yes, senhor. It is the one that was carried away last night, by the fall of rock. Be firm, senhora, or let us return.' "Marguerite, pale as death, and almost sinking, clasped her hands, and looked
uprrdforaa7:1 "'I am djitsaid. 'Remember, then, the least slip is death,' said the contrabandista. And he raised her on to the path. "Marguerite moved on, halting at every step. A few paces brought her to the curve, jetting over the immeasurable depth; and, the cloud having passed by, she saw eagles flying hundreds of feet beneath, and still lower the cataract leaping from ledge to ledge with the swiftness of lightning. Her heart beat quick; her breath seemed to stop; but her fort was firm. The path grew more and more hazardous, slanting outwards, so as barely to leave room for the step. She felt a giddiness coming over her, and her wearied limbs tremble: yet the path was not half traversed. The sky appeared to be falling, the mountains to move; the noise of rushing waters grew more deafening, and the wind rolled past with an appalling roar. Her head awam—her eyes closed—she fell l "
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