8 MAY 1858, Page 17

NEW wervELs.* As times go, Violet Bank and its Inmates

is a very good novel. The earlier parts may be somewhat spun out by "sketches" and minute delineation ; the author has a liking for odd characters, and presents them with a prominence disproportioned to their at- traction for the reader ; there is rather too much of the manners and customs and couleur locale of an uninteresting provincial town ; and these things put together retard the progress of the story. But the life of Violet Bank is that of the present day, and is upon the whole truthfully exhibited. Many of the lessons which it teaches are of general application, though the principal moral is too much implicated with peculiar circumstances to be practically very instructive. As the plot advances, the interest thickens depending, however, less upon action than upon a suc- cession of scenes which lead, if not to a catastrophe, at any rate to a sufficiently impressive termination.

' Matrimony and its consequences may be said to be one subject of the story. Dr. Mansell is a well looking, well mannered, plau- sible and clever young physician, with much selfishness, little principle, and at bottom great weakness of character. He has settled at Twiston, a manufacturing town, and the pressure of his circumstances renders money desirable. Struck with the beauty of the heroine Grace Lloyd, he proposes and is accepted ; but just

, before the marriage is about to take place, Mrs. Lloyd loses her property. The Doctor has never really loved, but admired and been attracted. He does not so much hesitate as fluctuate be- tween his easy good nature and taste, and what he thinks to be his worldly advantage, Grace by her submission to his varying moods really increasing his caprices. This painful course of false love is well described ; but it somewhat fails of effect from the weakness of Grace, although she is still in her teens, and the talent, selfishness, and temper of Mansell. Meantime the Doc- tor has been intrauced to a lady of property who admires him ; his vanity is tickled as his taste was formerly ; he proposes to Sylvia Birch, and breaks with Grace Lloyd. The story has several concurrent episodes, including the fortunes of Grace, but the great interest settles upon the growing unhappiness of their marriage till it ends in final alienation. In this denouement there is poetical • justice, and there are minor morals of general application. The great conclusion of all depends so muchupon the peculiar circumstances of the case, and upon the individual characters of husband and wife-

, upon the weakness and shallowness of Mansell, and his worldly , coarse-grained selfishness—upon the impulsive, exacting, and sus- picious nature of Sylvia, that it is difficult to see how matters could have been otherwise than they turn out.- The novelist admits it with regard to Mansell, but really Sylvia is the most doubtful. Had Max made a good match—a fair face, a fair property, and a com- mon-place character, that would not have troubled- him by too much of exaction or display of affection with worldly success in addition, he might have got through life comfortably enough. The case is by no means so clear with Sylvia. Besides what may

• be called her temperament, she has a speculative mind that seeks ' for evils, and a brooding disposition that magnifies them. This is an example of what she was before marriage. She rather than Mansell had made the advances ; her penetration renders her doubtful of his affection ; her family wonder at her solicitude, - which they cannot enter into ; one day she resolves to open herself to her oldtutor, an exiled Pole who has found a sort of refuge in - her mother's house.

"The Count took the seat pointed out to him, resolved to suggest - thoughts both healthy and comforting to the morbid, undisciplined creature, now the sole living interest of his barren life. His hollow eye brightened as she spoke, as might do those of a veteran at some martial story recalling past prowess. Her struggles for a moment broke that monotony in which, as if in a lead coffin, his recollections had been soldered no for many a year. Sylvia awoke in him the echo of his stormy youth ; and he threw himself with forgotten vehemence into the current of her feelings. He saw hard- ness in the eyes she fixed on him ; but he also saw the good and the evil spirit engaged in a mortal duel.

" ' Do you think he loves me ?' began Sylvia ; 'now, speak out honest- ly, and don't be afraid.'

"'My dear young lady, would you listen to a page from the book of ex- perience of others

• "'What sort of an answer do you call that ? Why don't you say an honest No '? '

"'That was not the answer that came to my lips.' "'What was this wonderful experience of yours ? ' "As you hope for happiness, never seek to penetrate the heart of one you love. V Among the flowers may be some small venomous thorn, which once in your flesh, you will never be able to pull out. Why should you wish to to gaze on the past ?—it is beyond your reach and your. power. Be confi- ding, be tender and true, and your reward will come of itself.'

• "'Then you do think there is something to hide ? Come, speak ; what do you know ?'

• riolet

Blaekett Bank and its inmates. In three volumes. Published by Hurst and 8ir Gust 1Y Bsterre. By Selina Bunbury, Author of" Combe Abbey," Ike. &e. In two volumes. Published by Routledge. The- Web of Life. By Allan Park Paton. Published by Longmans and Co.

'" I have read that every man's heart is a closet of Blue Beard, into which no good wife should seek to enter.'

" You think I am going to put up with that ! You horrible old man, who do you mean ? ' i " 'It s the page from my book of wisdom,' he said, very sadly.

" ' Thank you, old gentleman, you have answered me, and with a ven- geance,' said Sylvia bitterly; though you have tried to smother the truth with flowers of rhetoric, you are not quite such a humbug as the rest ; but still you have your own little prudence. Oh ! if I had met one sincere heart in my life, I shouldn't be the miserable being I am. I was born under an evil star ; no one ever did—no one ever will care for me.'

"The Count looked at her, and said—,

"'But if you doubt, really and truly, it is not yet too late—'

"‘ There you go,' interrupted Sylvia, blowing hot and cold with the same breath.' Ugh ! I wonder where peace or comfort are to be found in this world ? One moment I am to be trusting, and everything will come right, though you don't know if anything's wrong. Then you get up a bloody-bones story to frighten me ; when, if you had a grain of sense, you might tell me that love begets love. Don't speak ; I have had enough of your pages ; nod your head. Well, I'll love him so dearly, dearly, dearly. I'll make him love me. You ought to know by this time I don't mean every word I say in a passion. Come, don't look so sorry ; you shall play and I will sing, Life let us Cherish.'

"And it was thus Dr. Mansell found her that day."

The time and place in Sir Guy D'Esterre are well enough chosen for an historical romance, being striking in their features and with tolerable freshness. The story opens in Ireland during the wars towards the close of Elizabeth's reign, changes after a while to London with the two extremes of a prison and the court ; goes back again to Ireland under the lieutenancy of Essex ; once more in London, the anxious gathering at Exeter House is exhi- bited on that fatal morning which led its owner to the block; and the death-bed of the Queen is brought before the reader to settle one of the love affairs.

The merit of an historical fiction depends in some degree upon the test to which it is brought. • The majority think that a gene- ral knowledge of the age suffices. If the writer is acquainted with the public events and persons of the period, has clipped a little into its memoirs, and examined its surviving portraits so as to revive the features of persons and their costumes, enough seems to be done. The critical few may think a more thorough study necessary—such as can only be acquired by research among con- temporary literature and original records, as well as a familiarity with the fine and even useful arts of the day. Either mode has its drawbacks together with its advantages. The general infor- mation is likely to be superficial or mistaken ; the thorough knowledge is as apt to make the delineation of manners and cus- toms predominate over the essentials of story, incidents, passion and so forth, unless the writer is possessed both of judgment and self-control as well as of imagination.

The class Selina. Banbury belongs to is rather the first than the second of these schools of writers ; she occasionally introduces, however, matters which are not strictly essential to the progress of events, and hardly possesses imagination enough to revive the past in its spirit, whatever she may do with its form and habits. Considered simply as a story Sir Guy D'Esterre suffers from want of action or movement. The hero remains in prison during a large portion of the tale ; first in an Irish sea-begirt castle, and then in the Marshalsea, his former confinement being made a charge against him, as his conduct appeared suspicious, and ene- mies fomented the charge of treason. This imprisonment is certainly relieved by the business of persons "out of doors," and when Sir Guy is enlarged there is more of movement. This his- torical romance is not, however, of a high class, though readable and clever. A sacrifice of the probable to the melodramatic may add to its effect upon novel readers though diminishing its value to the critic. Here is an example where Essex contrives a scene which is to reconcile Sir Guy and his lady love, and to show an Irish follower of the Earl—supposed to be in prison and danger, to his betrothed.

"Sir Guy D'Esterre had received an order some days afterwards from the Lord-Lieutenant to be in waiting. He had, accordingly, spent a rather wearisome hour, lolling on a somewhat uneasy seat in a closet adjoining the private cabinet of the Viceroy. The opening of that door gave hint intima- tion of the entrance of some person or persons, but they were so noiseless that he could not otherwise be conscious of the fact. The opposite one also

almost immediately opened, and Essex came in. His mode of salutation, which was seen and heard by him, left Guy without doubt as to the identity

of the visitors. Hilda and Isabel were there ; both veiled, and both now in the Irish costume. That deep melody of voice, which was Nature's gift, and not the birthright of country, told him it was Hilda Fitzclare who spoke. characterized 7dasbya the aterkablebrvoteeet,, rutit Lcremdelbhyfiutehnet,inatnor dtrioopnpitnhgatoisn

the ear like cadences of wild music.

"Sir Guy approached the open door, and, when he had done so, he beth saw the speaker and heard her words distinctly. "'Noble Earl,' said Hilda, in reply apparently to a question from Essex, I have come to plead for a brother's freedom or, it may be, for a brother's life. I seek for either as a favour, and meant to argue for it as a justice. I am not here to impeach the honour of Sir Guy D'Esterre, or to defend ourselves from his impeachments: his falsehood or his truth have nought to do with the suit I urge.'

" ' But who,' cried D'Esterre, striding with utter contempt of eeremony into the apartment, 'who would dare to say that these were doubted

"They stood face to face : the lady ealm and grave ; the knight flushed and angry : but their eyes met, and her face was suffused with the rush of blood which a quick thrill of delight, of joy, sent bounding 'from the heart, as that gaze seemed to utter there the words= He is true !' - " Ho ! without there ! ho !' cried Essex ; and an opposite door flying back, there stood Morven Fitzclare, whose return Essex had contrived to keep concealed from all until this little drama was arranged.

"Isabel, with a cry so fully blent with joy, and pain, surprise, fear, and delight, that one could not tell what emotion prevailed, sprang forward, with outstretched arms, between him and Essex, as if she believed he had only been produced in order to be executed.

'"Save him!—spare him !—good my lord, spare him,' she exclaimed, falling on her knees before the Earl.

" ' Sweet mistress Isabel, he shall be your prisoner now, if he wishes to exchange his late fetters for the rosy ones those bright eyes can form,' was his reply, as at once both he and the somewhat astonished youth lifted her from her position.

"'And you, most lovely lady,' he added, turning to Hilda,you will tread a measure with me now ? We shall dance the brawl tonight.

"But But pale and cold, without a word or sound, she sunk on her brother's 'breast, her long black hair falling over the arms in which he held her."

If a judgment is to be formed from The Web of Life, Mr. Allan Park Paton is deficient in the essential quality of a novelist ; he cannot tell a story, and sooth to say is rather devoid of a story to tell. There is some descriptive power in his book ; there are touches of satire but with a strong tendency to farcical ex- aggeration, and, a laboured art of exposition partaking at once Of the platform discourse and the minuteness of the metaphysical novel. In tale-telling he is utterly to seek, whether we speak of it as an art or a gift. Chapters follow chapters consisting of what are called " scenes " or "sketches," and so far relating to the hero and heroine that they sometimes appear in them, at others are talked of in them, and as the story begins with the birth of the hero and goes back to the courtship of the heroine's parents, there is a chronological progress. At the outset some power in word-painting attracts the reader, but this attraction soon flags when it is found to lead to nothing but other word- painting. Neither could much be made out of the elements of The Web of Life by a more skilful hand. Graham Kennedy is a youthful Scotchman, with delicate health, which in- duces his parents to leave him to his inclinations. These, aided by his old nurse's tales, carry him to romantic and poetical lite- rature and to communings with nature. Ellen Lee is the daugh- ter of a tutor, who clandestinely married his patron's daughter, and had to turn strolling player for a livelihood. Gifted with a -love of poetry and personation, Ellen, when she learns the family history, determines to take to the stage with a view of raising the character and proving the utility of the profession. Just as suc- cess begins to dawn upon her, she dies suddenly when reciting a part; her father dies suddenly too as a consequence, and Graham Kennedy is left in grief standing over the grave. The characters of the different strollers, and their adventures in search of a clergyman to offer prayer at the funeral, (in the Scottish manner,) is the most real and varied material in the book; but it is injured by exaggeration.