NEW NOVELS. * Tim interest attaching to the name of the

conqueror of Undo has led to the publication of the historical romance, which he composed some twenty years ago, on the life of Harold and of "William the Conqueror." It was written during a period of leisure or more truly of retirement from public employment after his quarrel with Sir Frederick Adam. If not offered for publica- tion to more than one bookseller, it was submitted to the late Mr. Colburn' from whom, says the editor Sir William, there was "much trouble" in getting it back. During this time of deten- tion it would appear that the manuscript was read by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, and that he "gave an opinion to Colburn on its merit—a favourable opinion—seems certain." The editor also says that "some resemblance will be found in parts to Sir Ed- ward Bulwer Lytton's romance of Harold, especially the creation of the Vela_ But Sir C. Napier's work was composed years before Sir Edward's was published. It was, originally called 'Harold' also."

The interest of the reader for the author will not be altogether disappointed in the book. It cannot indeed be called a work of high art ; for though Sir Charles appears to have read up for the occasion, acquainting himself with the biography of William' and the contemporary history of Europe so far as relates to Normandy and England, as well as with the more obvious peculiarities of the age, he wants the delicate faculty of painting manners, and is prone to exaggerate the more obvious traits, almost into the melo- dramatic. This turn for making the most of things, which is visible in all the writings of all the Napiers, leads to overdoing

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particular scenes or situations. But there s the Napier vigour throughout ; the art may be little, the taste not always of the best, but we have the work of a man who conceives boldly and distinctly, and expresses his conceptions vividly. Nor is there any lack of the elements of romance ; strongly marked characters, striking incidents, and movement if it be not always critical ac- tion, will be found in William the Conqueror ; and indicate that Charles the Conqueror might have done something in romance, though his genius no doubt was more adapted to reality. One peculiarity is worth noting. There seems more of genuine histo- mai romance in the book than is usual, caused by giving promi- nence to the personal fortunes of William and Harold, and con- necting the novel interest with them and their lady loves. The title indicates the hero and William is the leading personage, Harold and his connexions being in a certain sense subordinate to • lrilliam the Conqueror. An Historical Romance. By General Sir Charles No pier, G.C.B., &c. &c. Lieutenant-General Sir William Napier, K.C.B., Editor. Published by Routledge and Co. The Ladies of Bever Hollow. A Tale of English Country Life. By the Author of "Mary Powell." In two volumes. Published by Bentley. The Heirs of Clievekigh. By Gervaise Abbott. In three volumes. by Longmans and Co. .Bastori and its Inhabitants ; or Sketches of Life in a Country Town. P13yubibilL. 2.14 Published by Booth. jjwee of the Conqueror, though the saddest and most mournful in- terest gathers round the great Saxon. Pathos, however, is not the forte of the author. The biographer of Sir Charles Napier omitted some letters in the "Memoir" on account of the too great predominance of Rabe- lais, vein. It was on more than one kind of theme that the sa- tirist and jester were conspicuous in Sir Charles. He would pause in his extremest anger to crack a joke if it came in his way. This bitter-sweet tendency is visible in his fiction. The introductory account of the manner in which the editor got possession of the MB. is only redeemed by jocularity from stale commonplace ; but Peter Grievous is amusing from his hits at the Horse Guards and other matters. The story is told in the autobiographical form by a centegenarian knight who knew William as a boy, was present at the battle of Hastings, and sits down half a century after the event to dictate his reminiscences from the boyhood of Duke Wil- liam to the battle of Hastings, with which action the romance closes. This scheme produces formal incongruities enough, but it offers opportunities for pungent and satirical remark. Sovereign and Papal politics, the lay and clerical opinions of the times, and a good many of its practices in peace and war, are commented upon by the old knight, while the translator drops in a contrastive re- mark, not always favourable to the present day. The moment Duke Robert was dead, the great barons, who had sworn fealty to the young Duke William began to strengthen their castles, and sallied forth to ravage the country around, and replenish their provisions, that their strong places might be prepared to stand sieges. These provisions they took from the poor without giving remuneration ; and they committed those excesses which the nobles of all countries usually do ; for how can they otherwise maintain their state and dignity ? God has decreed that there shall be poor and rich ; and how can some be deli unless they take from the many- poor ? It is often distressing to see these ravages, but so nature has decreed that it should be, and the order of nobility must be maintained, boy Wace, or the bonds of society would be dissolved, and all thrown into confusion.

"'But there should be some order in such doings. The feudal chief should have his due from his feudatories; and they from their vavasours, and the vavasours from their franldins, as the Saxons call them ; and these again, aided by their superiors, take from the land whatever the land can be made to produce by the labour of the lowest class, who, being naturally immoral, idle, and disobedient, must be compelled by wholesome coercion to cultivate the earth diligently ; receiving, however, due food and raiment from their chiefs. No true knight would starve his serf, who has a right to food, lodging, clothing, and protection from his lord, in exchange for labour.'

"Here the translator cannot but notice the barbarism of ancient times, where the ,good knight so amusingly talks of feeding, clothing, and lodging the labouring man ! What a pity he did not lire in our times, to learn that the poor ought to be thrown upon their own resources.' "

The editor tells us that "it is not a little remarkable that most of the rules for good government so pointed at [in the book] where afterwards realized by the author in Seinde." These on the treatment of rich and poor, we imagine are some of them. Duke William is the speaker after rescuing his future wife Ma- tilda from the Count of Anjou.

" So much for the gratitude of nobles. Now here the whole of the poor population pour forth from their city to weleome Matilda, who is loved for her kindness and they seem also to have felt anxiously for their earl, who is reputed to be just and good ; yet I have seen in all this crowd, but few of the rich and noble—mind that, Taillefer. Those who are poor are suffi- ciently chastised by their poverty, and a sovereign's whole mind should be applied to relieve and protect them ; their gratitude and support is certain, because they must always have so many' despots to torment them, that it is their nature, as men, to cling steadily to the most powerful while they are sure of his will and power to protect them.

"On the other hand, we see that nobles are menerally bad ; the rich have seldom any feelings of kindness, but have strong feelings of fear, and must be kept in awe with an iron-handed rule. A sovereign should treat the rich with reserve, watchfulness and rigour ; and take every opportu- nity of striking at their purses. Let him make them poor, and he will make them grateful. Exalt the poor and abase the rich ; the nearer you can bring them to a level the more easily can they be ruled : for it is clear that the more equally a pair of scales is balanced, the less is the weight re- quired to give the preponderance to either side. "Put down the rich villains in Normandy with a strong hand I will—or they shall put me down ! For, by the holy saints, I will not endure that the ducal crown and glaive be a mockery and a bauble, like a jester's cap and wooden sword. I have this day seen that the poor people are the real strength and best allies of a sovereign • and from this day let the Norman nobles look to it, for either they or I shull go down !"

The author of Mary Powell has not attained her usual success in The Ladies of Bever Hollow. And the cause is the same which induces failure in fiction among so many other writers of elegant minds and literary culture—a want of story. In the present tale there is very nice observation of " English country life" in a se- cluded district, and an equally nice delineation of various persons formed in it. There is abundance of delicate word-painting ; the subjects being domestic interiors and country landscapes of rather an everyday cast, and deriving their character from their Peculiarity. But there is no story. Certain people marry or are in the course of marrying at the termination, but their loves are not very prominent, their difficulties of the very mildest kind ; and these arise from doubt and apprehension rather than any ex- ternal obstacle to be overcome. The-longest and most elaborated incident in the piece, is a coolness nearly ending in estrangement, effected between two elderly maiden sisters by a mischief-making widow.

Although fiction must primarily rest upon a story, still a powerful or attraetive novel may be produced by a succession even of ill-connected scenes, or of simple-discussions in the form of dialogues and occurrences, if the subjects have a current at- traction or are important in themselves—in short if they appeal to our curiosity or impart information. Neither of these points are aohieved in Bever Hollow to any extent. The dialogues are certainly natural ; but the subjects are generally common -place, and the matter trivial—the sort of conversation that bores you in real life and makes you wonder how the speakers can feel any in- terest in what they are saying. Parts may have broader traits, involving development of character, or pointing some moral lesson of daily life. There is also much nicety of observation so happily expressed as to amount to what we have called word-painting.

Here is an example on so simple a matter as an autumnal evening- walk homeward.

"Meanwhile, her own footsteps over the spongy heath were as light and springing as those of a Highlander. Now and then, iu her endeavours to reach home more quickly by cutting across the common than by patsuing the devious sandy road, the uncertain light betrayed her into stepping into a rabbit-hole or tuft of prickly furze, or slipping down a bank of loose sand. Now and then, sounds and glimpses of animal life, such as had never been noted by her in broad daylight, struck her eye and ear with something wild, mysterious, and interesting. Now it was a stoat or weasel crossing her path ; nose, a grey rabbit ; now, the squeak of a shrew-mouse, the call of some unknown bird, the rustle of some unseen wing. The short, sharp bark of a distant dog, the whistle of his master, the gradual forcing itself into light of some evening star, the sudden blazing up of some remote bon- fire of weeds, the kindling a candle in some cottage across the heath with door set ajar that its 'long levelled rule of streaming light' might guide the goodrnan to his home—each and all of these accessories of an autumnal evening walk across a Wild common, had their intense charm for Rhoda."

"Double, double, toil, and trouble," seems to be the principle of composition in The Heirs of Chereleigh. Mr. Gervaise Abbott

might be called a vigorous writer, if vigour consists in exaggerat- ing the sayings and doings of common life ; straining up the ro- mantic into the improbable, if not impossible ; and exhibiting common though grave or sad events in the manner of prose run mad.

"Sense, speech, and measure, living tongues, and dead, Let all give way, and Morris may be read."

To readers ignorant of the manners of society, the practice of af- fairs, and the probabilities of life, and possessing a liking for writ- ing above the theme, The Heirs of Cheveleigh will not be de-Void of attraction. It has variety of fortune, events both striking and startling, if not very new or likely, and a style of narration that cannot at all events be termed flat.

As the experienced might divine from the title, the story turns upon the succession to a property, which as times go was worth trying for ; "the rent-roll of Cheveleigh showed an annual result of some twenty thousand pounds and upwards ; besides this there were estates of some value in Wales ; and common gossip capped these desirable conditions with an extravagant income from the funds." The true male heir dies, having been thrust into the water by—but never mind ; another but unknown male heir, after acting the part of a dens ex machind, dies too, or more exactly, it killed ; the heiress is the subject of villainous plots and persecu- tions. The, general ideas of the contest for the above-mentioned property, and the crossings of love, are not very new. They pos- sess a sort of novelty—or incongruity rather,—owing to the older novelists originally 'deriving. their incidents from reality, and. so having a consistency, which is lost when applied to other times, and a widely different state of society. Some things, however, are clearly novel, and one is the death of the principal villain. This man is a solicitor who has married the widow of Mr. Cheveleigh (whom his professional arts have contributed to embarrass) his object being to get possession of the estates. This can be managed after failure of heirs male by getting rid of the heroine Lucy Cheveleigh, or at least preventing her marriage. To accomplish this the scene is changed to Ger- many ; Lucy is reported mad and nearly driven so ; a castle is taken in which to immure her ; this place had formerly been the abode of banditti, who improved the vaults into a labyrinth ; and here Mr. Rutter loses himself when difficulties are thickening round. him. The readers of Voltaire on the probable and the unbelievable in history, will remember the scorn with which he treats the story of the bishop devoured by rats ; yet this is the fate reserved by Mr. Gervaise Abbott for his villainous attorney- There is matter for a fair novel of the second-rate kind in .Eas- ton and its Inhabitants. The description of what the writer does know—the small people of a country town with their silly pecu- liarities and petty j ealousies—is indeed somewhat flat ; but then the characters anti manners of "the quality "with which L. E. does not seem to be very familiar atone for it in effect, by sometimes pass- ing into farce, at others into a species of genteel comedy, foundesi upon the received ideas of the heartlessness of the aristocracy, Here is an example where Lady Hyacinths Fitzgerald has been driven to elope with a man she cares nothing for, because her, parents are bent on forcing her into a match with an old lord, However, she has been rescued by a relation, Frank Lysaght, and carried to his father's. As a matter of course father and son go to Lord Fitzgerald's to announce the news. "Lady Fitz-Gerald was reclining in a comfortable arm-chair, negli- gently and becomingly attired, in a loose quilted silk dressing-gown, wida -a little cap of the finest lace at the back of her head. "She was sipping a cup of chocolate in a lazy, dawdling meaner, and hardly looked up as the gentlemen entered the room. " • eh, Waiter! how d'ye do ?—glad to see you,' she began, in a soft; languid voice. So that tiresome gal of mine has turned up at your house at last ? How she ever got them, I can't conceive ; for I have just re- ceived, thrugh Lord Coleraine, a note she wrote to her Easton friend—the girl who laves at Richmond, you know. She says in that she is at Folke- stone, with a horrid Captain Luxmoor. It is one of the most disgraceful /tones lever heard, and has made us quite ill. Fortunately, Frank's little note, -saying Tiney was safe at her aunt's house, reached ua before the other one, or I should have gone quite distracted. I am quite knocked up, as it

is. Dear ! dear ! what a dreadful responsibility it is to have daughter.! You are very fortunate in having only a son, Sir Walter.' "But I hope to have a daughter before long, eh, Frank ? ' said Sir Walter, winking at Frank, and trying to look knowing.

" Ah ! a daughter-in-law. But that is quite a different thing,' said Lady Fitz-Gerald. ' Unmarried daughters are so dreadfully troublesome. Mine quite wear my heart out, I'm sure. Poor Fitz-Gerald Is laid up with a fit of the gout, entirely brought on by this worry. What on earth we are to do with that girl, I cannot imagine ! Such an example to her sisters ! I don't like to have her at home ; and as for her marrying now, it is out of the question. Of course, we never could listen to Captain Luxmoor for a moment ; and as the story must be known all over London by this time, it is quite impossible that Lord Augustus Wyon will think of her again. I wonder whether we could get your sister Dulcie to take her in, Walter, till all this blows over ? I really cannot bring myself to see her at present ; and how I am to get over the disgrace of hearing it all talked about, I can't think. What has become of that dreadful man, too ? Surely he is not still with her.'" There are several similar pictures of high life, taken from books or the stage, such truth as they possess being second-hand, and rather belonging to a past generation. There are also scenes of emotion and suspense in middle-class life, but with little stamp of reality upon them. Then there are three love stories, an though these are not very naturally managed, still there are three stories, and if they are not told rapidly, the single volume to which L. E. is confined, gets them along quickly ; and that in these days of tediousness is something.