FOREST DAYS.
Tun hero, or at least a subject of this new romance of the inde- fatigable Mr. JAMES, is Robin Hood, transferred from the usually assigned time of Richard the First to that of Henry the Third, and leagued with De Montfort Earl of Leicester and the Barons who sided with him against foreigners and arbitrary power. Of course, bold Robin is not made the hero of a love-tale, but he is made the protector of the lovers ; assisting the true hero, Hugh de Monthermer, to escape from his difficulties, and tracking out a plot, by which Richard de Ashby, the villain of the piece, involves Hugh in a charge of murder, and a trial by battle, which must forfeit his life and disgrace his name if defeated, and which if victorious will stain his hands in the blood of his affianced's brother.
ID a high artistical sense, Forest Days is inferior to most of the better romances of Mr. JAMES, both as regards its history and its historical characters, as well as in the persons more entirely belong- ing to the novel. The history is deficient in breadth and interest ; much more so, we think, than it needed to have been. What- ever judgment may be passed upon the character and objects of the real De Montfort, there is no doubt that he was the first who clearly discerned the growing power of the citizens or burghers, and raised the Commons of England to a consideration they never received before and have never since lost. Mr. JAMES is of course aware of this fact, but he makes no use of it. We are scarcely introduced to a city, and to citizens not at all. The his- tory is confined to Prince Edwari's escape and the battle of Eve- sham, and to some passing sketches of De Montfort, the weak and foolish sovereign, and his son the future Justinian of England. None of these personages are depicted with much nicety or force ; and the same may be said of the people of the romance. They are, as it were, stock characters,—a hero, a lady, a poor but villanous relation work- ing upon the family pride of her hasty but generous brother, two old barons, one blunt and faithful to death, the other rather weak and pursuing his own interests without much regard to principle, together with a sufficiency of Norman nobles, foreign courtiers, pea- sants, and broken-down gentlemen turned cutthroats. All these es- sentially resemble similar persons in numerous other romances, only slightly varied by the character of the age in which they appear. A half-supernatural dwarf, who is an instrument of Robin Hood, is a less common person; but the general conception was a favourite with Scow. Kate Grantley, the mistress or lemon of Richard de Ashby, is a rather ticklish subject ; but is well drawn, and well managed.
As regards the great hero of English ballad and tradition, Robin Hood himself, it was hardly to be expected that Mr. JAMES would succeed, wban WALTER Scorr failed. Scow, however, failed in ex- ecution rather than conception. He connected the "bold outlaw" of "the fayre forrest" with great characters and great events ; but the connexion is accidental. He failed by materializing his character and creation in the development, and turned out a staid and somewhat good sort of man, instead of the frank, fearless, and cheerful yeoman of "merry England." Mr. JAMES has not even aimed at reaching the true character of the national archer and outlaw. He makes him a politician and political leader, and that in a matter-of-fact and business-like way. "Jollye Robin," as drawn by Mr. JAMES, might have beaded a deputation on the Forest-laws in his own time, and in ours have denounced the Tariff or argued for a free trade in corn. The forest-life is indeed the worst done thing in the romance : the outlaws look like modern and mechanical gentlemen masquerading at a pic-nic, rather than the earnest, hearty, jovial archers of the old ballads. But although Forest Days is inferior to many romances of Mr. Jastss in the interest which springs from history or historical manners, it surpasses most of his works in rapidity and readable- ness. Though not devoid of extraneous passages, both his digres- sions and his reflections are fewer in number ; and in losing the events of history, he has also got rid of some of his heavy historical disquisitions, which, however good in themselves, were always stops to the progress of the story. This rather militates against such extracts as suit our space during the great talk ; for the unconnected passages are fewer than Usual, and the work in point of mere composition is scarcely so raid. We will, however, take a short part, of powerful writing— the scene where Richard de Ashby is waiting the perpetration of his relation's murder ; suspicion of which he designed to throw upon, Hugh de Monthermer.
SUSPENSE AND REMORSE.
He was mistaken, there was no horse there. The sound was in his own imagination ; and he returned to his place of shelter, feeling the autumnal air Chilly, though the day was in no degree cold. It was that the blood in his own veins had, in every drop, the feverish thrill of anxiety and dreadful expectation. No words can tell the state of that miserable man's mind during the space of two hours, which elapsed while he remained in that cottage. Remorse and fear had possession of him altogether—ay, fear ; for although we have acknow- ledged that perhaps the only good quality he possessed was courage, yet as resolution is a very different thing from bravery, so were the terrors that possessed his mind at that moment of a very distinct character from those which seize the trembling coward on the battle- field.
There was the dread of detection, shame, exposure, the hissing scorn of the whole world, everlasting infamy as well as punishment. Death was the least part, indeed, of what he feared ; and could he have been sure that means would be afforded him to terminate his own existence in case of failure, the chance of nieh a result would have lost half its terror.
But there was remorse besides—remorse which he had stifled till it was too late. Be saw his kinsman's %line hair; he saw his countenance. He en- deavoured in vain to call it up before his ee es, with some of those frowns or haughty looks upon it which his own vices and folliea had very often produced. There was nothing there now but the smile of kindness, but the look of ge- perows-setinaction with which from time to time the old Berl had bestowed upon him some favour or afforded him some assistance. Memory would not perform the task he wished to put upon it. She gave him up the anguish of conscience, without even awakening the bad passions of the past to palliate the deeds of the present. He leaned on the dismantled window-frame with his heart scorched and seared, without a tear to moisten his burning lid, without one place on which the mind could rest in place. The hell of the wicked always begins upon earth ; and the foul fiend had already the spirit in his grasp, and revelled in the luxury of torture. At length there came a distant sound ; and, starting up, he ran forth to look out. His ears no longer deceived him, but the noise increased each moment : it was horses' feet coming tepidly along the road. He gazed earnestly towards Lindwell ; but instead of those whom he expected to see, he beheld a large party of cavalry riding by at full speed; and as they passed on before him, galloping away towards Nottingham, the towering form of Prince Edward, rising by the full head above any of his train, caught the eye of the watcher, and explained their appearance there. The rapid tramp died away, and all was silent again. Some twenty minutes more elapsed, and then there was a duller sound ; but still it was like the footfalls of horses coming quick. Once more he gazed forth ; and now he beheld, much nearer than he expectid, four mounted men approaching the cottage, but avoiding the hard road, and riding over the turf of the common. One of them seemed to be supporting another by the arm, who bent somewhat feebly towards his horse's head, and appeared ready to fall. In a minute they came round : and Ellerby, swinging to the ground, while the man they bad called Parsou held the rein of Dightou's horse, aided the latter to dismount, and led him into the cottage.
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