SPECTATOR'S LIBRARY.

ROMiticAt. Ficinow, Harold, the Last of the Saxon Kings. By the Author of " Rienzi," " The Last of

the Barons," &c. In three volumes Bendey.

TgAvitot,

$ecoSections of Bush Life in Australia, during a Residence of Eight Years in the In- terior. By Henry William Haygarth, Esq Murray.

LITSZATTILli OF NATI7H3L PHILOSOPHY,

COSMOS : Sketch of a Physical Description of the Universe. By Alexander von Humboldt. Vol II. Translated under the Superintendence of Lieut.-Col. Edward Sabine, RA., For. Sec. RA Longman and Co.

SIB BTILWER LYTTON'S HAROLD.

IT may be doubted whether a direct historical subject, treated in the mixed manner that modern readers require, is well adapted for prose fiction. Sbakspere and Ben Jonson, in their historical plays, followed history pretty much as they received it ; contenting themselves with giving a dramatic form and spirit to the persons and events, such as records or tradition described them. The modern historical romance makes public men and public affairs subordinate to the interest of the story and the fortunes of the actors. Their fate, indeed, may be connected with the history, or even influenced by it ; but history, however prominent it may seem, and whatever variety, largeness, and relief may be communicated by its introduction, is not the thing which interests the reader in the story. Each method has its advantages. In the drama, history is ex- hibited as it appeared to the popular eye, broadly and in the mass, with- out regard to dates and details : whatever lessons it contains the poet can inculcate, whether referring to public policy or general life; and, ad- hering to the facts as he finds them, he is able to present the men and their age in their true characters. The school of romance which Scott founded only deals incidentally with history proper; for the most part presenting historical persons in their personal character, or under circum- stances which (had they been true) history is not supposed to have re- corded. Hence, in an artistical point of view, a much greater licence is admitted in changes necessary for the fiction : Scott, indeed, made the received opinions of history subordinate to his literary ends, not so much perhaps in changing facts, as in colouring them to suit his own purposes. We do not say that morally this is proper to be done, to the extent which Scott has been charged with doing it where his political or religions pre- judices came into play ; but critically speaking, we say that it may be done without affecting the unity of the work, or producing any other artistical injury.

But if an historical subject be made the groundwork of a novel in order accurately to present recorded events and the writer's views thereupon, at the same time engrafting upon them the private and domestic interest of a modern novel, then, it seems to us, a principle comes into play which introduces a source of injury by blending together in- congruous things. We do not attach so much regard as many do to the variations from the record in order to soften asperities or adapt the story to fiction.. Common readers may not perceive the change ; and if it be artistically done, so as to produce the end designed, the skilful will be little if at all offended. The danger 'seems to us of another kind. In turning the bistorieal actor into the hero of a modern romance, much that is questionable, much that is positively wrong, must be got rid of, and be must be made amiable at the expense of truth ; so that his fate, or pos- sibly the entire cause he represents, ceases to point the moral which the history itself enforces. The amalgamation of the recorded and the invented parts will also be difficult ; and there is a risk that the facts and fiction will not mingle, just as the waters of two rivers may sometimes be seen to run separate after their junction though flowing in the same channel. The Harold of Sir Bulwer Lytton seems to confirm the above opinion. The author tells the reader in a dedicatory epistle to Mr. Tennyson D'Eyncourt, that he has sought " less to portray mere manners, which modern researches have rendered familiar to ordinary students in our history, than to bring forward the great characters, so carelessly dis- missed in the loose record of centuries ; to show more clearly the motives and policy of the agents of an event the most memorable in Europe; and to convey a definite, if general notion of the human beings, whose brains schemed and whose hearts beat in that realm of shadows which lies behind the Norman Conquest. * * * I have thus been faithful to the leading historical incidents in the grand tragedy of Harold, and as careful as con- tradictory evidences will permit, both as to accuracy in the delineation of character, and correctness in that chronological chain of dates with- out which there can be no historical philosophy—that is, no tangible link between the cause and the effect." The author opens his story fourteen years before the battle of Hastings, with a visit of William of Normandy to Edward the Confessor ; and subsequently exhibits the principal incidents that he deems likely to tell in his fiction between that period and the great battle., He transforms the concubine Edith, who recognized the body of Harold, into a noble Saxon lady betrothed to Harold, and looking to the influence of the King for the Pope's dispen- sation of their prohibited kindred ; while Edith's grandmother, Hilda, represents the ancient Scandinavian priestess with her superstitions. The daughter of a Saxon thane, whom Harold refuses on account of his at- tachment to Edith, marries Gryffyth King of Wales, and thus connects the Welsh Monarch both personally and publicly with Harold ; while the presence of Siward, who defeated Macbeth, forms a passing link with Scotland. In a superficial point of view, this is an artistical idea; and it would have been more effective had the real history been less 's- heared, and even historical accuracy less regarded ; invention being

allowed to predominate over chronicle. The battle of Hastings, like the fall of Constantinople and the glorious death of its last Em-

peror, is a great poetical event. Harold stands in the field as a patriot repelling the invader, and as the representative of the last Of the Anglo-Saxon dynasty, which only perishes in his fall ; but it will no more do to go back upon the latter part of the Anglo-Saxon history than upon the Byzantine for purposes of greatness ; since we find

there nothing but anarchy, slavish submission to invaders, treachery, and

all the other vices that render social restoration impossible from within and call for the roughest remedies from without. Alfred himself had been

unable to raise his people ; there is not a shadow of reason to suppose that Harold could have done it, but perhaps the contrary. Yet, though his en- tire character was mixed and questionable, his cause, his courage, and his fate, were sufficient to endow him with heroic virtue, if we regard poeti- cally only the close of his career. His "life and times" is another affair; and if that be taken as a subject, especially as an historical subject, the historical features of his nation as well as himself should be painted ; not occasionally, in a paragraph or a sentence, just to save historical accuracy, but broadly and boldly, with representatives of the classes. This Sir Ba- wer Lytton has not done ; nor could he, we think, upon his plan ; for an Englishman of sentiment was sure to favour Harold, and this could only be effectively done by taking him at Hastings and sinking the past. The main drawback to Harold as a romance, however, is the inter- mixture and interference of the history with the fiction. In his dedicatory epistle the author intimates that he has consulted many volumes and given to his subject much research. In the more directly historical portion this appears in a close narrative, sometimes translated from the chroniclers, sometimes in an imitation of their style : in the portraiture of customs and manners the author is scrupulously accurate, not unfrequently quoting his authorities at the foot of the page. But this minuteness, which would be proper in a series of essays, is out of place in a fio- don, and not only interrupts the reader but destroys the homogeneity of the work. The larger parts of history, the incidents connected with the principal persons and their characters, are treated more broadly ; and the concomitants are well contrived to bring out the author's object of " explanation," though rather in the spirit of the novelist than of the historian. This want of unity is the more to be re- gretted as Sir Bulwer Lytton is successful in the fiction, or in those parts where the filling up is imaginary though there may be some substratum of fact. The characters are often painted with nice metaphysical discri- mination, especially Edward the Confessor. The dramatic and favourable features of the Anglo-Saxons are brought oat ; some touches of rhetorical inflation may be found, but generally the style is subdued, without much loss of brilliancy or effect ; and though possibly a too theatrical manner is infused into the descriptions, it has its advantages in cases where dramatic action or discourse has to be exhibited, from the telling way in which it enables the author to " make his points." An example, and one of the best in the volumes, may be found in the appearance of Godwin's eldest son, Sweyn, before the Witan ; whither the Earl with his family and friends has come, in order that he may be judged previously to resto- ration of his titles and estates. In what preceded the following extract, the crafty and eloquent Earl had just ceased speaking, having produced a favourable impression.

"But now, as from the sons Sweyn the eldest stepped forth, with a wandering eye and uncertain foot, there was a movement like a shudder amongst the large majority of the audience, and a murmur of hate or of horror. • The young Earl marked the sensation his presence produced, and stop* short His breath came- thick; he raised his right han4.bnt spoke not. Hid voice died on his lips; his eyes roved wildly round with a haggard stare more imploring than defying. Then rose, in his episcopal stole, Alred-the Bishop, and his clear sweet vioce trembled as he spoke. "' Comes Sweyn son of Godwin here to prove his innocence of treason against the King?—if so, let him hold his peace; for if the Witan acquit Godwin son of Wolnoth of that charge, the acquittal includes his house. But in the name of the holy Church, here represented by its fathers, will Sweyn say, and fasten his word by oath, that he is guiltless of treason to the King of Kings—guiltless of sacrilege that my lips shrink to name? Alas, that the duty falls on me; for I loved thee once, and love thy kindred now. But I am Gods servant before all things.' The prelate paused, and gathering up new energy, added in unfaltering accents, 'I charge thee -here, Sweyn the outlaw, that, moved by the fiend, thou didst bear off from God's house and violate a daughter of the Church—Algive Abbess of Leominster I' " And I,' cried Siward, rising to the fall height of his stature,' I, in the pre- sence of these proceres, whose proudest title is milites or warriors—I charge Sweyn, son of Godwin, that, not in open field and hand to hand, but by felony and guile, he wrought the foul and abhorrent murder of his cousin, Beorn the Earl "At these two charges from men so eminent, the effect upon the audience was startling. While those not influenced by Godwin raised their eyes, sparkling with wrath and scorn, upon the wasted yet still noble face of the eldest born, even those most zealous on behalf of that popular house evinced no sympathy for its heir. Smne looked down abashed and mournful; some regarded the accused with a cold, unpitying look. Only perhaps among the oeorls, at the end of the hall, might be seen some compassion on anxious faces; for before those deeds of crime had been bruited abroad, none among the sous of Godwin more blithe of mien and bold of hand, more honoured and beloved, than Sweyn the outlaw. But the hush that succeeded the charges was appalling in its depth. Godwin himself shaded his face with his mantle, and only those close by could see that his breast heaved and his limbs trembled. The brothers bad shrunk from the side of the accused, outlawed even amongst his kin—all save Harold, who, strong in his blameless name and beloved repute, advanced three strides amidst the si- lence, and, standing by his brother's side, lifted his commanding brow above the seated judges, but he did not speak. " Then said Sweyn the Earl, strengthened by such solitary companionship in that hostile assemblage—' I might answer that for these charges in the past, for deeds alleged as done eight long years ago, I have the King's grace and the in- law's right; and that in the Wilms over which I as Earl presided, no man was twice judged for the same offence. That I hold to be the law, in the great coun- cils as the small.'

" It is! it is exclaimed Godwin; his paternal feelings conquering his pru- dence and his decorous dignity. Hold to it, my son!' " I hold to it not,' resumed the young Earl, casting a haughty glance over the somewhat blank and disappointed faces of his foes, ' for my law is kere'--and he smote his heart—' and that condemns me, not once alone, but evermore! Aired, 0 holy father, at whose knees I once confessed my every sin, I blame thee not that thou first in the Witan !Meat thy voice against me, though thou knowest that I loved Algive from youth upward; she, with her heart yet mine, was given in the last year of Hardicanute, when might was right, to the Church. I met her again, flushed with my victories over the Walloon lungs, with power in my hand and passion in my veins. Deadly was my sin! but what asked l?—that vows compelled should be annulled; that the love of my youth might yet be the wife of my manhood. Pardon, that I knew not then how eternal are the bonds yv of the Church have woven round those of whom, if ye fail of saints, ye may at Iamb make martyrs!' " He paused, and his lip curled, and his eye shot wildfire; for in that moment his mother's blood was high within him, and he looked and thought perhaps as some heathen Dane; but the flash of the former man was momentary, and, humbly smiting his breast, he murmured, ' Avaunt, Satan ! yea, deadly was my sin I And the sin was mine alone; Algive, if stained, was blameless; she escaped—and —and died I " The King was wroth; and first to strive against my pardon was Harold my brother, who now alone in my penitence stands by my aide: he strove manfully and openly; I blamed him not; but Beorn, my cousin, desired my earldom, and he strove against me wilily and in secret2-to my facekind, behind my back de- spitefuL I detected his falsehood, and meant to detain but not to slay him. He lay bound in my ship; be reviled and he taunted me in the hour of my gloom, and when the blood of the sea-kings flowed in fire through my veins. And I lifted my axe in ire; and my men lifted theirs; and so—and so!— Again I say, deadly was my sin! " ' Think not that I seek now to make less my guilt, as I sought when I deemed that life was yet long and power was yet sweet. Since then I have known worldly evil and worldly good—the storm and the shine of life: I have swept the seas, a sea-king; I have battled with the Dane in his native land; I have almost grasped in my right hand, as I grasped in my dreams, the crown of my kinsman, Canute; again, I have been a fugitive and an exile; again, I have been inlawed, and Earl of all the lands from Isis to the Wye. And whether in state or in penury, whether in war or in peace, I have seen the pale face of the nun betrayed, and the gory wounds of the murdered man. Wherefore, I come not here to plead for a pardon, which would console me not, but formally to dissever my kins- men's cause from mine, which alone sullies and degrades it: I come here to say, that, coveting not your acquittal, fearing not your judgment, I pronounce mine own doom. Cap of noble and axe of warrior I lay aside for ever; bare- footed and alone, I go hence to the Holy Sepulchre, there to =soil my soul, and implore that grace which cannot come from man ! Harold, step forth in the place of Sweyn the first-born ! And ye prelates and peers, militea and ministers, proceed to adjudge the living ! To you, and to England, he who now quits you is the dead.

" He gathered his robe of state over his breast as a monk his gown, and look big neither to right nor to left, passed slowly down the hall, through the crowd, which made way for him in awe and silence; and it seemed to the assembly as if a cloud had gone from the face of day.

"And Godwin still stood with his face covered by his robe.

"And Harold anxiously watched the faces of the assembly, and saw no re- lenting I "And Garth crept to Harold's side. "And the gay Leofwine looked sad.

"And the young Wolnoth turned pale and trembled.

"And the fierce Tostig played with his golden chain.

"And one low sob was beard, and it came from the breast of Alred the meek accuser—God's true but gentle priest."

Besides the prose narrative with its dialogues and scenes, a good many verses are scattered through the volumes. Of these the best is a versified incident in the life of Duke Rollo, with which Taillefer, William's minstrel, startles the court of Edward, after it has been flattered by the serious songs of his minstrels. The bard has come over on urgent business, and thus announces his presence. "The dirge ceased; but so benumbing had been its effect, that the torpor it created did not subside with the cause. There was a dead and funereal silence throughout the spacious hall, when suddenly, loudly, mightily, as the blast of the trumpet upon the hush of the grave, rose a single voice. All started—all turned—all looked to one direction; and they saw that the great-voice pealed from the farthest end of the ball. From under his gown the gigantic stranger had drawn a smallthree-stringed instrument, somewhat resembling the modem late, and thus he sang-

" THE BALLAD OF ROM

"From Blois to Senlis, wave by wave, roll'd on the Norman flood, And Frank on Frank went drifting down the welter-tide of blood; There was not left in all the land a castle-wall to fire, And not a wife but wailed a lord, a child but mourned a sire. To Charles the King, the mitred monks, the mailed barons flew, While, shaking earth, behind them strode the thunder-march of Ron.

" 0 King,' then cried those barons bold, in vain are mace and mail; We fall before the Norman axe, as corn before the hail.' ' And vainly,' cried the pious monks, by Mary's shrine we kneel; For prayers, like arrows, glance aside, against the Norman steel' The barons groaned, the shavelings wept, while near and nearer drew, As death-birds round their scented feast, the raven flags of Ron.

"Then said King Charles, Where thousands fail, what king can stand alone? The strength of kings is in the men that gather round the throne. When war dismays my barons bold, 'tis time for war to cease; When Heaven forsakes my pious monks, the will of Heaven is peace. Go forth, my monks, with mass and rood the Norman camp unto, And to the fold with shepherd crook, entice this grisly Roo.

" ' I'll give him all the ocean coast, from Michael Mount to Eure, And Gills my child shall be his bride, to bind him fast and sure: Let him but kiss the Christian cross, and sheathe the heathen sword, And hold the lands I cannot keep, a fief from Charles his lord: Forth went the pastors of the Church the shepherd's work to do, And wrap the golden fleece around the tiger loins of Ron.

"Psalm-chanting came the shaven monks, within the camp of dread;

• Amidst his warriors, Norman Ron stood taller by the head.

Out spoke the Frank Archbishop then, a priest devout and sage, ' When peace and plenty wait thy word, what need of war and rage? Why waste a land as fair as aught beneath the arch of blue, Which might be thine to sow and reap P—Thus saith the King to Ron: " give thee all the ocean coast, from Michael Mount to Eure, And Gille my fairest child, as bride, to bind thee fast and sure; If thou but kneel to Christ our God, and sheathe thy Payniin sword, And bold thy land, the Church's son, a fief from Charles thy lord.' The Norman on his warriors looked—to counsel they withdrew: The saints took pity on the Franks, and moved the soul of Rou.

"So back he strode, and thus he spoke to that Archbishop meek:

take the land thy king bestows from Eure to Michael-peak; I take the maid, or foul or fair, a bargain with the coast; And for thy creed, a sea-king's gods are those that give the most. So hie thee back, and tell thy chief to make his proffer true, And he ahall find a docile son, and ye a saint in Rou.'

"So o'er the border stream of Epte came Ron the Norman, where, Begirt with barons, sat the King, enthroned at green St. Clair: He placed his hand in Charles's hand,—load shouted all the throng, But tears were in King Charles's eyes—the grip of Rou was strong. 'Novi kiss the foot,' the Bishop said, that homage still is due': Then dark the frown and stern the smile of that grim convert Ron. "He takes the foot, as if the foot to slavish lips to bring: The Normans scowl—he tilts the throne, and backward falls the King. Loud laugh the joyous Norman men, pale stare the Franks aghast; And Ron lifts up his head as from the wind springs up the mast: I said I would adore a god, but not a mortal-too; • The foot that fled before a foe let cowards kiss!' said Ron.