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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78468-0.txt b/78468-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..037017d --- /dev/null +++ b/78468-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6209 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78468 *** + + + + + ST. ALBAN’S ABBEY + + A + + POETICAL ROMANCE. + + + + + GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE, + OR + THE COURT OF HENRY III. + KEEPING FESTIVAL IN ARDENNE, + =A Romance.= + + ST. ALBAN’S ABBEY, + A METRICAL TALE; + WITH SOME POETICAL PIECES. + + + BY ANNE RADCLIFFE, + + AUTHOR OF “THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO,” “ROMANCE OF THE FOREST,” &c. + + TO WHICH IS PREFIXED + + A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, + + WITH EXTRACTS FROM HER JOURNALS. + + + IN FOUR VOLUMES. + + VOL. I. + + + LONDON: + HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. + 1826. + + + LONDON: + + PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET-STREET. + + + + + CONTENTS + OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + + Page. + Memoir of the Life and Writings of Mrs. Radcliffe iii + GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE. + Introduction 3 + The First Day 79 + The Second Day 105 + + + + + MEMOIR + + OF THE + + LIFE AND WRITINGS + + of + + MRS. RADCLIFFE. + + + + + LIFE AND WRITINGS + OF + MRS. RADCLIFFE. + + +The Life of Mrs. Radcliffe is a pleasing phenomenon in the literature of +her time. During a period, in which the spirit of personality has +extended its influence, till it has rendered the habits and conversation +of authors almost as public as their compositions, she confined herself, +with delicate apprehensiveness, to the circle of domestic duties and +pleasures. Known only by her works, her name was felt as a spell by her +readers. Among the thousands, whose life blood curdled beneath her +terrors, many little suspected, that the potent enchantress was still an +inhabitant of this “bright and breathing world.” Even her romances, +forming a class apart from all, which had gone before, and unapproached +by imitators, wore a certain air of antiquity, and seemed scarcely to +belong to the present age. Having long ceased to publish, she acquired +in her retreat the honours of posthumous fame. Her unbroken retirement +suggested to those, who learned that she still lived, a fancy that +something unhappy was connected with her story, and gave occasion to the +most absurd and groundless rumours, respecting her condition. But, while +some spoke of her as dead, and others represented her as afflicted with +mental alienation, she was thankfully enjoying the choicest blessings of +life—with a cheerfulness as equable as if she had never touched the +secret springs of horror, and with a humility as genuine as though she +had not extended the domain of romance, for the delight and the benefit +of her species. + +In drawing aside the veil from the personal course of this celebrated +lady, her biographer cannot exhibit any of the amusing varieties, which +usually chequer the lives of successful authors: here are no brilliant +conversational triumphs; no elaborate correspondence with the +celebrated, or the great; no elegant malice; no anecdotes of patrons or +rivals; none of fashion’s idle pastime, nor of controversy’s more idle +business. Even the great events of Mrs. Radcliffe’s life, the successive +appearances of her novels, extend over a small part only of its +duration. A stranger, witnessing its calm tenor of happiness, would +little guess to what high and solemn inventions some of its hours had +been devoted; yet the more attentive observer would perceive, in her +ordinary reflections and pleasures, indications of the power so +marvellously exerted in her works. Fortunately, the means of watching +the developement of her faculties and tastes in her daily pursuits are +supplied by copious memorandums written on several of her journeys; in +which, among rich and vivid descriptions, many characteristic traits of +sentiment and feeling are scattered, and her moral excellencies shine +forth in a lustre which warms, while it enlightens. + +Mrs. Radcliffe was born in London, in July 1764. She was the only child +of William and Ann Ward, persons of great respectability, who, though +engaged in trade, were allied to families of independent fortune and +high character. She was descended from the family of the De Witts of +Holland. It appears, from some of the documents in the hands of her +friends, that a member of this distinguished house came to England in +the reign of Charles the First, under the patronage of Government, to +execute a plan for draining the fens of Lincolnshire. The project was +interrupted by the political troubles which ensued; but its author +remained in England, and passed the remainder of his days in a mansion +near Hull. He brought with him an infant daughter, named Amelia, who was +the mother of one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s male ancestors. Her paternal +grandmother was the sister of Cheselden, the celebrated Surgeon, of +whose kindness her father retained a lively recollection. Her maternal +grandmother was Ann Oates, the sister of Doctor Samuel Jebb, of +Stratford, who was the father of Sir Richard Jebb; and she was related, +on her mother’s side, to Dr. Halifax, Bishop of Gloucester, and to Dr. +Halifax, Physician to the King. She was instructed in all womanly +accomplishments after the earlier fashion of the time, but was not +exercised in the classics, nor excited to pursue the studies necessary +to form the modern heroine of conversations. In childhood, her +intelligence and docility won the marked affection of her relatives, who +moved in a somewhat higher sphere than her parents, and she passed much +of her time at their houses. Her maternal uncle-in-law, the late Mr. +Bentley, of the firm of Wedgewood and Bentley, was exceedingly partial +to his niece, and invited her often to visit him at Chelsea, and +afterwards at Turnham Green, where he resided. At his house she enjoyed +the benefit of seeing some persons of literary eminence, and many of +accomplished manners. Mrs. Piozzi, Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Ord, and the +gentleman called “Athenian Stuart,” were among the visitors. + +Although the quickness and accuracy of Mrs. Radcliffe’s powers of +observation were early felt by her friends, it does not seem, that the +peculiar bent of her genius was perceived till after her marriage. She +had been educated among members of the old school, in manners and +morals, whose notions, while they prompted the most considerate kindness +towards their young charge, did not perhaps tend to excite precocious +intellect, especially in a female of diffidence, approaching to shyness. +Something of the formality derived from education may be traced in her +works, supplying a massive but noble and definite frame-work for her +sombre and heroic pictures. There was also, in the feeling of old +gentility, which most of her relatives cherished, a natural repugnance +to authorship, which she never entirely lost even after her splendid +success was ensured, and she had found herself the creator of a new +class in English romances. + +In the twenty-third year of her age, Miss Ward was married to Mr. +William Radcliffe, a graduate of Oxford, who, at one period, intended to +follow the profession of the law, and, with that view, kept several +terms at one of the Inns of Court, but who afterwards changed his +purpose. The ceremony was performed at Bath, where her parents then +resided, and she afterwards proceeded with her husband to live in the +neighbourhood of London. Encouraged by him, she soon began to employ her +leisure in writing; and, as her distrust of herself yielded to conscious +success, proceeded with great rapidity. Mr. Radcliffe, about this time, +became the proprietor of “The English Chronicle,” and took an active +share in the management of the paper, which, with other avocations, +obliged him to be frequently absent from home till a late hour in the +evening. On these occasions, Mrs. Radcliffe usually beguiled the else +weary hours by her pen, and often astonished her husband, on his return, +not only by the quality, but the extent of the matter she had produced, +since he left her. The evening was always her favourite season for +composition, when her spirits were in their happiest tone, and she was +most secure from interruption. So far was she from being subjected to +her own terrors, that she often laughingly presented to Mr. Radcliffe +chapters, which he could not read alone without shuddering. + +Although Mrs. Radcliffe was as far as possible removed from the slavery +of superstitious fear, she took an eager interest in the work of +composition, and was, for the time, completely absorbed in the conduct +of her stories. The pleasures of painting have been worthily celebrated +by men, who have been devoted to the art; but these can scarcely be +regarded as superior to the enjoyments of a writer of romance, conscious +of inventive power. If in the mere perusal of novels we lose our painful +sense of the realities of “this unimaginable world,” and delightedly +participate in the sorrows, the joys, and the struggles of the persons, +how far more intensely must an authoress like Mrs. Radcliffe feel that +outgoing of the heart, by which individuality is multiplied, and we seem +to pass a hundred lives! She spreads out many threads of sympathy and +lives along every line. The passions, the affections, the hopes of her +character are essentially hers; born out of her own heart; figured from +the tracings of her own brain; and reflecting back again, in shape and +form, the images and thoughts, which work indistinctly in the fancies of +others. There is a perpetual exercise of that plastic power, which +realizes the conceptions of the mind to itself, and gives back to it its +own imaginations in “clear dream and solemn vision.” How delightful to +trace the dawnings of innocent love, like the coming on of spring; to +unveil the daily course of a peaceful life, gliding on like smooth +water; to exhibit the passions in their high agitations and contests; to +devise generous self-sacrifice in heroic thought; to pour on the wearied +and palpitating heart overflowing happiness; to throw the mind forward +to advanced age, and through its glass to take a mournful retrospect of +departed joy, and pensively understand a mild and timely decay! No +exertion of the faculties appears more enviable than that of forming the +outline of a great tale, like “The Mysteries of Udolpho;” bringing out +into distinctness all the hints and dim pictures, which have long +floated in the mind; keeping in view the catastrophe from the first, and +the relations to it of the noblest scenes and most complicated +adventures; and feeling already, as through all the pulses of the soul, +the curiosity, the terror, the pity and the admiration, which will be +excited by the perusal in the minds of thousands and thousands of +readers. + +Incited by the intellectual recompense of such a pursuit, Mrs. Radcliffe +gave her romances in quick succession to the world:—her first work, “The +Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne,” was published in the year 1789; the +“Sicilian Romance,” in 1790; the “Romance of the Forest,” in 1791; “The +Mysteries of Udolpho,” in 1794; and “The Italian,” in 1797. It is +pleasing to trace the developement of her resources and her gradual +acquisition of mastery over them in these productions. The first, with a +goodly number of old towers, dungeon keeps, subterraneous passages and +hair-breadth escapes, has little of reality, or life; as if the author +had caught a glimpse of the regions of romance from afar, and formed a +sort of dreamy acquaintance with its recesses and glooms. In her next +work, the “Sicilian Romance,” she seems to obtain a bird’s-eye view of +all the surface of that delightful region—she places its winding vales +and delicious bowers and summer seas before the eye of the mind—but is +as yet unable to introduce the reader individually into the midst of the +scene, to surround him with its luxurious air, and compel him to shudder +at its terrors. In the “Romance of the Forest,” she approaches and takes +up her very residence in the pleasant borders of the enchanted land; the +sphere she chooses is small and the persons limited; but here she +exercises clear dominion, and realizes every thing to the fancy. The +“Mysteries of Udolpho” is the work of one, who has entered and possessed +a mighty portion of that enchanted land; who is familiar with its +massive towers and solemn glooms;—and who presents its objects of +beauty, or horror, through a certain haze, which sometimes magnifies and +sometimes veils their true proportions. In the “Italian,” she occupies a +less space; but, shining in golden light, her figures have the +distinctness of terrible pictures; and her scenes, though perhaps less +astounding in the aggregate, are singly more thrilling and vivid. + +This splendid series of fictions became immediately popular with the +numerous class of readers, who seek principally for amusement, and soon +attracted the attention of the finer spirits of the age. Dr. Joseph +Warton, the Head Master of Winchester School, who was far advanced in +life when “The Mysteries of Udolpho” was published, told Mr. Robinson, +the publisher, that, happening to meet with it, he was so fascinated, +that he could not go to bed till he had finished it, and actually sat up +the greater part of the night for the purpose. Mr. Sheridan spoke of the +same work in terms of the highest eulogy. Mr. Fox, in a letter written +to an intimate friend, soon after the publication of “The Italian,” +spoke of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works in terms of high praise, and entered +into a somewhat particular examination and comparison of the respective +merits of the “Mysteries of Udolpho” and “The Italian.” The author of +the Pursuits of Literature, not much given to commend, describes her as +“The mighty magician of The Mysteries of Udolpho, bred and nourished by +the Florentine muses, in their sacred, solitary caverns, amid the paler +shrines of Gothic superstition, and in all the dreariness of +enchantment: a poetess, whom Ariosto would, with rapture, have +acknowledged as + + —— La nudrita + Damigella Trivulzia al sacro speco.” + +The pecuniary advantages, which she derived from her works, though they +have been exaggerated, were considerable, according to the fashion of +the times. For the “Mysteries of Udolpho” she received from Messrs. +Robinson £500.; a sum then so unusually large for a work of fiction, +that Mr. Cadell, who had great experience in such matters, on hearing +the statement, offered a wager of £10. that it was untrue. By the +Italian, although considerably shorter, she acquired about the sum of +£800. + +The reputation, which Mrs. Radcliffe derived from her writings did not +draw her from the retirement, in which they were written. Although, as +she had no children, the duties of a family did not engross her +attention, she declined entering into the society she was so well +calculated to adorn. Nothing but entire reciprocity in all the +accompaniments of society could satisfy her ideas of the independence it +became her to preserve. She would, indeed, have conferred honour and +obligation on any circle, which she could prevail on herself to join; +but a scrupulous self-respect, almost too nice to be appreciated in +these days, induced her sedulously to avoid the appearance of reception, +on account of her literary fame. The very thought of appearing in person +as the author of her romances shocked the delicacy of her mind. To the +publication of her works she was constrained by the force of her own +genius; but nothing could tempt her to publish _herself_; or to sink for +a moment, the gentlewoman in the novelist. She felt also a distaste to +the increasing familiarity of modern manners, to which she had been +unaccustomed in her youth; and, though remarkably free and cheerful with +her relatives and intimate friends, she preferred the more formal +politeness of the old school among strangers. Besides these reasons for +preserving her seclusion, she enjoyed, with peculiar relish, the elegant +pleasures it gave her the means of partaking with her husband. She chose +at once the course she would pursue, and, finding that her views met the +entire concurrence of Mr. Radcliffe, adhered to it through life. Instead +of lavishing time and money on entertainments, the necessity for which, +according to her feelings, was connected with a participation in general +society, she sought the comforts of residing in airy and pleasant +situations, of unbroken leisure and frequent travelling; and, as her +income was increased by the death of relatives, she retained the same +plan of living, only extending its scale of innocent luxury. + +In the summer of 1794, subsequent to the publication of “The Mysteries +of Udolpho,” Mrs. Radcliffe accompanied her husband on a tour through +Holland and the western frontier of Germany, returning down the Rhine. +This was the first and only occasion, on which she quitted England; +though the vividness of her descriptions of Italy, Switzerland and the +south of France, in which her scenes are principally laid, induced a +general belief, that she had visited those countries. So strongly was +this conviction impressed on the public mind, that a recent traveller of +celebrity referred to her descriptions as derived from personal +observation; and it was asserted in the “Edinburgh Review” for May 1823, +that she accompanied her husband to Italy, when he was attached to one +of the British Embassies, and that “it was on that occasion she imbibed +the taste for picturesque scenery, and the obscure and wild +superstitions of mouldering castles, of which she has made so beautiful +a use in her romances.” After their return from the Continent, Mr. and +Mrs. Radcliffe made a tour to the English Lakes, and were highly +gratified by the excursion. On these journeys, Mrs. Radcliffe almost +invariably employed snatches of time at the inns where she rested, in +committing to paper the impressions and events of the day, which she +could afterwards review at leisure—a happy mode of prolonging those +vivid pleasures of life, for which she had a fine relish. Such a habit, +when it does not become too frequently introspective, or “sickly o’er” +our enjoyments with “the pale cast of thought,” tends to impart a unity +to our intellectual being. It enables us to live over again the unbroken +line of existence; to gather up the precious drops of happiness, that +they be not lost; and, in the last moments of feeling and thought, to +find “a glass which shows us many more.” After Mrs. Radcliffe’s return, +she was prevailed on to give to her notes a regular form, and to publish +them in a quarto volume, which met with a favourable reception. + +The subsequent excursions of Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe were of less extent, +and chiefly directed to the southern coast of England. Always once, and +generally twice in the year, they took a journey through some beautiful +or interesting country, limiting themselves to no particular course, but +enjoying the perfect freedom, which was most agreeable to their tastes. +Mrs. Radcliffe continued her little diary of these pleasant rovings, but +without the slightest idea of publication, from which she generally +shrunk as an evil. Some specimen of these journals are now first +presented to the reader, which will exhibit her mind in its undress—show +her feelings as they were undisguised—and display her tact of +observation and descriptive power, as existing simply for her own +gratification. She always travelled with a considerable number of books, +and generally wrote, while Mr. Radcliffe derived amusement from reading +them. + +The following notes are extracted from memoranda made on a little tour +to the coast of Kent, in the autumn of 1797. They appear to have been +written at the Inn at Hythe, while Mr. Radcliffe rode to Folkstone. + +“September 1st. Began our tour to the seaside. Between Gravesend and +Rochester, the road, though farther from the river than about +Northfleet, commands delightful views of it, expanding to great breadth, +and in length reaching towards the Nore; ranges of distant hills in +Essex and Kent finally close the prospect. The shores green and rich, +and the water covered with sails tacking in all directions. Sweet +afternoon. Continual villages; neat and pleasant country houses, with +lawns and shrubberies and high-walled kitchen gardens. Views of the +river. The dignity of these views now much increased; the distant hills +run out into long ridges, and fold one behind the other. The river often +seen between green-dipping hills, and then opening in vast majesty. +Descended towards Rochester: solemn appearance of the castle, with its +square ghastly walls and their hollow eyes, rising over a bank of the +Medway, grey and massive and floorless; nothing remaining but the shell. +From the bridge looked on the right, up the Medway, winding broad +between woody picturesque heights, sometimes shelving into points. On +the left, the river busy with shipping, as it winds round the town, +towards the Thames, and very broad. + +“Made our way in the gig through the long narrow streets, and then, +leaving Chatham on the left, mounted a very steep road, having wide +views of Chatham, the docks and shipping, the new barracks—a town +themselves—rising up a hill, with fortifications above its green mounds, +with cannon and two small artificial hills, with flags. A great +prospect, but too broken, and full of scars and angles of fortifications +and other buildings and of excavations, to be quite pleasing. Further +on, mounted Chatham Hill; the view wonderfully grand and various. The +vale of the Medway, sweeping from Rochester to Sheerness, and the Nore, +with the Essex hills beyond the Thames, bounding the scene to the +north-west; one of the richest green landscapes, with wood and villages, +I ever saw. The Thames itself visible for many miles, running sometimes +almost parallel with the green, rich vale of the Medway, till it pours +its broad waves into the sea opposite Sheerness. The fortress lying low +upon this side of the Medway, with its shipping distinctly seen by the +help of a good glass; the sea, animated with ships beyond Southend, +visible on the Thames opposite to Sheerness, almost upon the open sea: +knew a sloop to be one, which we had seen sailing on the Thames by +Greenhithe. Proceeded to Sittingbourn, through orchards, pastures and +fragrant villages; the road frequently rose and fell, but the prospects +were not considerable, except at Sittingbourn, an open, pleasant town. + +“September 2.—Set out about eleven for Canterbury. The road very hilly, +but through a most rich country of orchards, hop-grounds and pastures, +villages and pretty houses, with lawns and gardens frequently occurring. +Feversham, a mile on the left; saw it with its arm of the sea, and the +sea itself, at a distance. Soon after began the long ascent of Boughton +Hill; the summit rewarded us with a prodigious prospect. The hill itself +wild with fern and coppice wood. Many woods also in the near prospect, +intermingled with surprising richness of pasture, orchard and hops. +Descending the other side, saw the tower of Canterbury cathedral, +cresting a hill beyond; the body of the cathedral and the city not yet +appearing; the tower became visible again at intervals, and, at length, +the city, with its ancient gates and buildings. The cathedral itself +looked very tall and solemn, like a spectre of ancient times, and seemed +to hint of what it had witnessed. As we approached the gate, supported +by octagonal towers, a long line of horses and soldiers poured from the +high narrow arch. Proceeded, after dinner, to Dover over Barham Downs. +Views into rich little valleys on the right; each village having its +tall grey steeple. Noble mansions and parks frequently on the rising +grounds. + +“September 3.—Walked on the beach, watching the retiring and returning +waves, and attending to the bursting thunder of the surge. + +“Afterwards stood on a fortified point below the castle, immediately and +high over the beach, commanding a vast marine horizon, with a long tract +of the French coast, a white line bounding the blue waters. Below, on +the right, Dover curves picturesquely along the sea-bay; the white and +green cliffs rising closely over it, except near the castle, where they +give place to hills, that open to a green valley, with enclosures and a +pretty village, beyond which it winds away. The most grand and striking +circumstances, as we stood on the point, were—the vast sea view—the long +shades on its surface of soft green, deepening exquisitely into purple; +but, above all, that downy tint of light blue, that sometimes prevailed +over the whole scene, and even faintly tinged the French coast, at a +distance. Sometimes, too, a white sail passed in a distant gloom, while +all between was softly shadowed; the cliffs above us broken and +encumbered with fortifications; the sea viewed beyond them, with vessels +passing from behind; the solemn sound of the tide, breaking immediately +below, and answered, as it were, at measured intervals, along the whole +coast; this circumstance inexpressibly grand; the sound more solemn and +hollow than when heard on the beach below. A fleet of merchantmen, with +a convoy, passed and spread itself over the channel. + +“Afternoon.—Walked towards Shakspeare’s Cliff; the fleet still in view. +Looked down from the edge of the cliffs on the fine red gravel margin of +the sea. Many vessels on the horizon and in mid-channel. The French +coast, white and high, and clear in the evening gleam. Evening upon the +sea becoming melancholy, silent and pale. A leaden-coloured vapour +rising upon the horizon, without confounding the line of separation; the +ocean whiter, till the last deep twilight falls, when all is one +gradual, inseparable, undistinguishable, grey. + +“September 4.—Morning fine, calm, but become slightly cloudy. Walked to +the topmost point of Shakspeare’s Cliff, which appears a huge face of +chalk over the sea. The way through fields; the path constantly rising, +and leading near the edge of the cliffs; leaned sometimes over the +railing, and looked down the precipices and on the blue sea; little +boats and a sloop below. Coast of France visible; though always most +clearly seen about sunset, when the western rays strike horizontally +upon it, and light up all its features. Proceeding to the point of the +cliff, had no longer the protection of a railing; bushes of hawthorn, +mossed with yellow, alone fence the precipice. Putting our hands on the +ground, we peeped over, ledge below ledge, abrupt down. Many of the +ledges hung with plants and bushes. On the east, Dover—the bay—the +castle—cliffs beyond—the boundless sea. In front, France, (Calais not +visible,) a long tract sinking away to the West, and leaving a wider +sea. Westward, charming view towards Beachy Head, the high and farthest +promontory; black points of land, or rather low promontories, running +out, one beyond another, into the sea; hills retiring to some margin, +wild, heathy and broken; then the coast makes a fine sweep; and, after +forming a vast bay, stretches out in the long, low point of land, called +Dungeness, on which stands a light-house. Within this fine bay, +Folkstone was visible, with Sandgate castle and village on the margin; +then Hythe, a little more removed and higher; then an old castle, higher +still and further from the shore; Romney, with its long marshes, beyond; +and far beyond all, the high lands of Beachy Head, so eminent and bold, +as scarcely to be known for a continuation of the same coast. The cliffs +decline towards Folkstone, and there are none beyond, on this side of +Beachy Head; but at some distance, from the shore, rise broken and wild, +though small hills. The best circumstances in the view are, first, the +fine dark points and then the noble sweep of the coast, the dark levels +of the marshes contrasting with the blue sea they skirt. Crows took wing +for their nests in the cliffs below us. Thought of “the midway air;” no +sea-fowl. The white surf beating far along the curving margin below to +where other chalky points uprear themselves. Within land, the hills are +brown and bleak and broken. The castle hills, on the land side, scarred +by roads and far from picturesque; steep chalk hollows among the heath. + +“About half past five in the afternoon, set off for Hythe, ten miles, +chiefly along the high sea-cliffs, except that about a mile from Dover, +we wound among brown hills, and, the cliffs sometimes sinking a little, +we had catches of the sea and of France, between green-dipping heights. +Near Folkstone, descended a very long chalk hill, whence an enchanting +view towards Beachy Head; the hills, retiring at some distance from the +shore, open a curving bosom, and show towns and villages at their feet. +Glad to get through the narrow steep streets of Folkstone, though the +town is well situated. Proceeded in the dusk for Sandgate. Descended +upon it—a white, new village, straggling along the beach, on each side +of the wide road. Green hills rising all about it, and the place wide +and free and pleasant; the sea beach appearing at every step between the +houses, on one side, and as easy an access to the hills, on the other +side. On the beach an ancient castle, of several round towers, ivied and +clustered together, and built low like Sandwich castle. Soldiers on +guard at the gate; thick walls; cannon; all on the outside was green +sod. The village being full, proceeded through deepening dusk to Hythe, +a mile and a half farther, the road leading along the beach, at the foot +of green hills; the sea appearing to flow even with us. Cottages by the +road side and people straggling all the way. Came late to Hythe, and +slept there. Its ancient church stands high, is a sea-mark and a +picturesque object, its grey towers and gothic windows appearing among +wood, and having a hill behind them.” + +In the autumn of 1798, Mrs. Radcliffe, accompanied by her husband, +visited Portsmouth, the Isle of Wight and Winchester. Her journal on +this little tour, which she seems to have particularly enjoyed, is too +minute to give entire; but we select the following specimens. + +“September 20—Set out in a beautiful afternoon for Portsmouth. Ascending +to Esher by twilight, heard the bells sounding, with most melancholy +sweetness, from the summit, and strengthening as we approached: every +thing pensive, and tranquil. + +“September 21, 1798. Sweet fresh morning. Left Cobham between seven and +eight. Passed under a picturesque bridge uniting the grounds of Paine’s +hill; high, rough, broken banks, topped with lofty trees, that hang over +a light rustic bridge. Then enter upon a wide scene of heath, skirted +here and there with rich distances; afterwards, many miles of heath, of +a dull purple and dusty iron brown, with, sometimes, sudden knolls +planted with firs; sometimes distances let in between bold hills. After +Guildford, a large neat old town, and pretty Godalmin, at the end of a +green level; steep hills to Haslemere and beyond it, but opening to vast +prospects:—again, many miles of purple and rusty heath, with scarcely a +tree or a hut. Nearer to Horndon, the country, though it continues to be +heathy, is upon a grander scale, opening to distant ridges of high +swelling hills, that probably overlook the sea; the hills in Hampshire, +on the right, more cultivated; those in Sussex vast, sweeping and downy. +Fine sunset from under clouds; the strong gleam almost blinded us as we +descended in a hollow; the high, heathy banks receiving the full +effulgence, while all below was gloom. The rays had already become much +fainter, as we wound up a chalky precipice of great sweep and length, +with steep downs rising over it; sheep on the summit showing themselves +against the sky. A fine moon rose, and lighted us over the downs to +Horndon. Heard only the sheep-bells, as the shepherd lad was folding his +flocks, and they came down from the hills. Slept at Horndon. + +“September 22. Showers, but cleared up to a fine morning. Passed over +two or three miles of the beautiful forest of Bere, the most picturesque +of any we have seen in England, breaking in sweet woodland glades, all +around to other hills and valleys, with patches of green-sward and +heath; and to the bold ridges, that extend to the sea. A cottage, here +and there, under the trees, with its grey curling smoke. As we mount +Portsdown hill, views, on the left, towards Chichester and the bay of +the sea; on the right, towards Southampton; retrospect of Bere forest in +the valley, and ascending among the Hampshire hills most beautifully. +Having reached the summit of Portsdown hill, the channel, the blue, +high, sweeping ridge of the Isle of Wight, Spithead, Portsmouth, with +its long embankments and spacious harbour, spread before our eyes. This +view, though very grand, was not so striking as I expected. The hills do +not advance near enough to the shore to hang over it, nor are they bold +and broken in their shapes. We are not allowed to look down abruptly on +the sea and the Isle of Wight; but view the first at four miles +distance, after the eye has gradually passed over the flat lands below, +and the landlocked harbours, which break the scene with comparative +littlenesses. The shipping at Spithead appeared beyond the town, on the +left, where a low coast extends to the Chichester river, and towards St. +Helens on the main sea. The Isle of Wight rises immediately in front of +the picture. Farther is the chalky ridge, that sinks towards the +Southampton water, and admits within its concave a tract of low coast, +that extends towards the channel. + +“Descend, and pass through the village of Cosham, at its foot. The road +now becomes animated, and shows symptoms of a populous place; carts, +coaches, horsemen, private carriages, soldiers, frequent signs and dusty +air, instead of the lonely wilderness and breezy freshness of the hills +and forest. Pass Portsea bridge, fortified and guarded, and so to +Portsmouth, between other fortifications and the deeply-arched gates of +the town. The ditches, the turfed embankments, crowned with rows of +trees, reminded me of Bommel, in Holland. On the right, a view over the +harbour, with huge, black prison-ships moored upon it. Passed through +the long dusty old suburbs. The town itself old, level and somewhat +mean, except the High-street, and about the seaward ramparts. Drove to +the Fountain, a large and good inn, but could hardly get a room to dine +in, as a West India and a Lisbon fleet were waiting to sail in a day or +two. Went to the ramparts over the sea, crowded with officers of the +army and navy, their wives and friends, and many well-dressed people +attending to see the guns fired, in honour of the coronation. From this +place the shipping at Spithead in front, and the Isle of Wight, with the +whole channel, are enchanting. Returned to the Inn. + +“After dinner we left the horse and chaise at the inn, and walked down +to the busy, dirty place, called the Point, where we got into a wherry, +and so went over the harbour to the decked passage-boat, that was to +carry us to the Isle of Wight. Adverse wind, but not much of it. Sat on +the deck; a fine view of the town, the hospital, the forts and harbour, +as we sailed out: the sea not rough. Hear the _he-hoes_ of the sailors, +afar in the channel, and the boatswain’s shrill whistle. Passed through +a part of the fleet; saw Sir Sidney Smith’s fine ship, of immense size, +with many other large ones round it. A cloudy sunset, but a gleam came +out that fell upon the distant town and harbour, lighted up the sea, and +touched the dark polished sides of all the ships; glanced athwart the +western hills of the island, of which we were now gaining a view. Sailed +down the channel for Cowes. The breeze gradually sunk, and we were +becalmed. A full September moon rose, and shed its radiance on the +waters. Glided along the woody steeps of the island, and saw many a +sweeping bay and obscure valley beyond. Reached Cowes about nine; the +approach to it, in a beautiful bay, striking, with its summer lights +illuminating many windows, and its houses seeming to rise steeply from +the shore; many vessels at anchor in the bay; its slopes of scattered +wood and pasture traced darkly round the bright clear water, and opening +to an obscure valley. Landed at West Cowes, and went to the Vine Inn. + +“September 23. Lovely day. Walked down to the shore and to the castle, a +low grey tower on a rocky point, washed by the tide and shadowed by +lofty elms; sentinels pacing under them, round the fort; fine view of +Cowes and the bay. Thence mounted the rising ground over the shore, and +walked a mile on the Yarmouth road, the views opening between trees and +hedges to the dark lines of the New Forest; the Southampton water just +opposite; eastward, Portsmouth faintly seen and the shipping at +Spithead; the masts of the ships at Cowes caught among the trees below; +the scene changing at every step, with the winding road; sometimes quite +shut out, then smiling in the softest colours. All was in gradual shades +of blue; the calm sea below, the shores and distant hills, stretching +along a cloudless blue sky. Innumerable vessels and little sails, whose +whiteness was just softened with the azure tint. It is impossible to +express the beauty of those soft melting tints, that painted the distant +perspective, towards Spithead, where sea and sky united, and where the +dark masts and shapes of shipping, drawing themselves on the horizon, +gave this softness its utmost effect. + +“Returned to dine at the Vine. Hired a good sailing-boat, to take us to +Ryde; and, after dinner, sailed from the harbour. The points, that form +the horns of the crescent, are of rough, dark rock and shrub. On a brow, +over a wood, rose the picturesque tower of a modern castle, which we +heard had lately been the residence of a sister of Admiral Macbride. +Glided with gentle breeze along the quiet and beautiful shores of the +island, undulating in gentle slopes, covered with woods, to the water’s +edge; sometimes the lighter green of meadows and pastures stretched to +the very bank, with here and there a cottage, a village church, or some +ornamented house on an ascent among trees, above which rose the main +hills of the island. The shore seldom runs out into points, but winds +into easy bays, hung with woods, sometimes opening into sweet valleys, +at others, advancing gently, with all their “green delights,” to meet +the passing sails. The coast immediately opposite is uninteresting and +flat; the chalky ridge of Portsdown too distant and uniform to be grand. +In the retrospect, indeed, the New Forest spread a dark line along the +sea, and the western hills of the island, near Yarmouth, waved along the +horizon, and two pointed summits of the Isle of Purbeck folded in behind +them, making it difficult to discern which were the different coasts. +Sea-fowl showing their white wings in the sun, as they circled over the +waters. The breeze increased, and we sailed finely among the now +roughening, yet still green and almost transparent waves, along the +shore. About half way, the coast returns into a green recess, and the +waters wind away among the hills verdant with thick woods and +enclosures. Here the Governor has built a picturesque tower above his +woods. Hence extend along the shore the fine woods of the rector of a +village on an ascent, where the tower of the church, almost hid in wood, +insists upon being painted. Here imagination has nothing to do; we have +only to preserve the impression of the living picture on the memory, in +its own soft colours. + +“Vessels of all sizes in the channel; the sailors’ _he-ho_, the shrill +whistle, and the rattle of cordage, as the sails were altered. + +“Reached Ryde, about sunset. The town, among trees, rises from the shore +up a long hill. + +“At the inn, though very neat, accommodations were so inadequate, that +we resolved to proceed in an open boat, which was about to return to +Portsmouth. After taking a hasty dish of very good tea, went down a +rough causeway, where many people were hurrying to the same boat, and +such a crowd collected as alarmed me. A small party was, however, soon +made up for a second boat; when, with little sails and two oars, we +launched among the peaceful waters; tinged, on one side of the horizon +with the red glow of sunset, and brightening on the other, under a broad +moon rising over the ships at Spithead. Passed through the fleet. Heard +voices talking far off over the dim waves, and sometimes laughter and +joviality; especially as we passed near a large ship, where lights in +the great cabin high above, told of the Captain and cheer. Distant +lights appearing from the ships successively, as the evening deepened, +like glowworms, and dotting the waters far around. As we drew near the +shore, the music of French horns sounded with faint and melancholy +sweetness; discovered at last to come from Monckton Fort. Landed after +an hour and a half, at the rampart steps. Walk by moonlight on the +rampart. Supped and slept at the Fountain, after a day the most +delightful of the whole tour.” + +From Portsmouth Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe proceeded by Winchester to +London. The following is her notice of the approach to Winchester, of +the City and the Cathedral. + +“Saw the City lying deep among the hollows, sheltered from the winds by +bare hills, which half conceal the town at their feet. The King’s house, +once really a palace, with new houses, conspicuous on rising ground. +Found out at last, through the dusk, the venerable Cathedral, with its +long roofs and very low tower, among fine old elms; a recess deep and +retired. The streets clean and quiet; not a student visible. This +decorum and neatness form a curious contrast to the bustle and tumult of +Portsmouth, sending forth her people to the whole world; while +Winchester seems to be so much withdrawn from it. Went to the George, a +noble inn: sat in a part of the Assembly room, severed off. Angelica +Kauffman’s drawings at each end. Walked by moonlight up the High-street; +good, terminated by a fine old gate. Led by the sound of martial music +to the court of the barracks in the old palace. The suburbs old and +narrow. + +“September 25. Sweet morning. Rose soon, and went, before breakfast, to +see the Cathedral, a very large ancient fabric, not highly ornamented +without. Walks round it of most noble, tall elms, forming almost a +perfect archway and as high as the roof of the Church. Old men employed +to weed them. The Cathedral, we were told, is fifteen feet longer than +any other in England, but it did not appear to the eye so long as that +of Canterbury. Nave of great height; painted windows poor, but the choir +affords the most beautiful _coup d’œil_ I ever saw; the carving of the +dark stalls, and of the pulpit exquisitely fine; but the white +filigranne-work of the altar is as delicate to the eye as point-lace. +The altar-piece, by West, is Lazarus rising from the dead. The face well +expresses the wanness and sharpness of death; but it might have been +much more descriptive of reviving life, beginning to steal upon the +languor of death; and of surprise and joyful hope, on beholding our +SAVIOUR. The attitude of Lazarus is indeed such, that he might be taken +for a person dying rather than one returning to life. The countenance of +our SAVIOUR is full of placid benevolence; but the action should have +been more expressive of command——of command, without effort. The +principal female figure, who supports Lazarus, is clear, beautiful and +natural; she looks up to our SAVIOUR, with tears of awe and gratitude; +but the grief and anxiety she has suffered are not yet entirely chased +from her countenance by joy and thankfulness; their impression was too +deep to be suddenly effaced, though the cause of them is removed. The +faces of the spectators do not sufficiently speak astonishment, awe and +adoration, except that of one, seen remotely and obscurely, as if +pressing forward more fully to ascertain the fact.” + +On the 10th of July, 1800, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe left home on a tour to +the southern coast. The first evening they reached Capel;—after this the +Journal proceeds. + +“July 11th.—Fine airy morning. Set off at ten. Hilly road, often narrow +and shady. Upon the eminences views over the tops of oaks to mountainous +hills and promontories, covered nearly to their summits with thick, +woody inclosures; whenever the bank-trees opened, caught blue, peeping +hill tops, or mountainous lines, coloured with a lovely blueish haze, +and seen enchantingly beyond the dark, tufted foliage of majestic oak. +Passed several open, pleasant villages. Every where, vegetation seems in +the utmost luxuriance; every cottage-window arboured with rose, or +woodbine. The South Downs, at a distance, heaved up their high, blue +lines, as ramparts worthy of the sublimity of the ocean, from whose +power they seemed to guard the island. Dined at a little inn in a +village—Billinghurst. Terrible road after this; flinty, sandy, and over +frequent hills, but with some recompensing prospects. As we drew nearer +the South Downs, distinguished the smooth green of their swelling +summits from the dark woods below, and in the hollows of the hills, over +which the evening sun threw rich lights and shadows. Abundance of wood +round the villages; good gardens to the cottages. + +“Came at length to Bury, only four miles from Arundel; but our horse +wanted rest after so toilsome a road, and we drank tea, before beginning +to mount one of the prodigious hills we had long seen. Came at last to +the fine downs on its summit, whence a world seemed to lie before us. +Grandeur, grace and beauty united in this wonderful view. We could just +distinguish doubtfully in the twilight, at great distance, the channel +between the coast and the Isle of Wight, a line of light upon the scene, +with faint cloudy lands of the island beyond. We soon entered upon the +domain of Arundel, the road winding finely among its pompous woods and +rough forest lawns. Partly by the tediousness of the ascent and partly +by our delay upon the summit, these four miles occupied an hour and a +half. We did not see the castle from the road, but the woods and the +remains of old gateways were perceptible. A church of great extent, +apparently old and grand. The main street of the town fearfully steep. +Reached an excellent inn, about half past nine. + +“July 12. Fine day, but very hot. Went in the morning to see the castle, +which stands on an eminence, near the town, about four miles from the +sea. An irregular avenue leads to a solemn old gateway very deep and +bending like those at Mentz, which, with the ruinous tower over it, +mantled with ivy, looked well in the dark perspective of the trees. Low +arched doors in the gateway, at the sides; loops for archers and +abundance of room for them in the immense thickness of the walls. + +“The library is in a long gallery, where hang some portraits; among them +James the Second; his first wife, Lord Clarendon’s daughter, handsome, +but with an air of discontent; Elizabeth of Bavaria and her husband; two +Cardinals, one of them a Howard. In many of the rooms, the walls, +wherever a window occurs, are lined with dark mahogany, which forms the +cases into frames, as it were, for the landscape seen through them, but +in general looks brown and poor: little wood visible from this side of +the castle. We passed through several noble apartments, not quite +finished, and others indifferently furnished; the walls of several, +however, wainscoted, chair-high, with beautiful mahogany. The pillars +and Gothic arch-work of the music-gallery exquisitely carved. + +“Monday, July 14.—Cool, cloudy morning. Set off, at eleven, for +Worthing. A flat, uninteresting coast. Drove partly over the sands, the +tide being down. Larks singing among the corn, near the shore. A +sea-gull fishing in the salt-pools, near the sands. Within a few miles +of Worthing discovered the sweep of grey downs about Brighton, that form +a background to the large bay; within which, Brighton, Worthing, &c. are +seated. Soon after, distinguished the dark masts of vessels lying before +Worthing, some of which, seen upon the lighter grey of the distant +hills, forming that fine bay, were picturesque, and seemed to be of +consequence, but proved to be only small sloops. Horses and a carriage +upon the sands informed us of our nearer approach to Worthing, which +stands well upon the beach; the tide out, and a fine plain of sand +spread before the village. It was animated by groups of the busy and the +idle; little boats along the edge of the tide, others at anchor: +altogether it was a very lively and amusing scene. A fleet of ships, +said to be transports, convoyed by two men-of-war, came upon the +distance, and clouded the horizon for some time, but were too far off to +be interesting. Dined at a pleasant hotel near the beach, with a +grass-plot before it. Amused with numerous parties, who had come from +Brighton in sociables, chariots and gigs, to dine, and who exhibited +themselves on the grass-plot under our window. After dinner, and after +seeing the tide flow up the beach, very high, set off for Little +Hampton, by an inner road, through pleasant, shady lanes, between corn +fields, with a range of distant hills on one side, their feet darkened +with wood. Delightful afternoon. After a sweet ride, met the sea again, +at the Beach House, where we drank tea, supped, and slept. + +“July 15. Lovely day. Left Little Hampton about one for Worthing. Could +not go by the sands, the tide being too near. Stopped to dine at the +village of Terring, at a small house with a garden. After dinner, walked +up a high hill to see a celebrated prospect. Gained the summit of the +sheep-down, and stood on the top, whence we saw the whole compass of the +horizon and such a stretch of sea and landscape! The whole southern sky, +and the blue sea, extending from the Isle of Wight (its faint blue-lands +rising towards the west) to the white face of what we took to be Beachy +Head, but afterwards learned to be Seaford Cliffs: beneath, lay sloping +towards the sea, a landscape of exquisite hues, of corn and thick +hedge-rows of woods and intermingled villages. Within the scope of the +bay, towards Beachy Head, Worthing, Shoreham, Brighton, on the sea edge, +backed with downs. Farther on, the hills begin to whiten, and rise into +the high face guarding the entrance of Newhaven river, which seems to +fall into a fine bay. To the west, Little Hampton, the woods, town and +castle of Arundel; further on, amidst a long tract of woody country, the +spire of Chichester Cathedral; further still, the high point of +Portsdown hill, but not Portsmouth. The whole of the Isle of Wight +clearly within view; the ridge of hills divided into three parts. +Spithead may be distinguished, it is said, at times. To the north, we +looked down into woody valleys at the feet of the Downs, and saw Mr. +Shelly’s new mansion, among his fine woods. + +“Went back to our cottage inn delighted. Went to Worthing to tea. The +tide just turning, the blue sea flowing almost even with our windows. +Parties again from Brighton at our inn. Lovely evening. When the tide +was lower, the sands were gay with fine company. In another part, a +cricket match going on upon the sands. Fishing vessels at anchor. Saw +the Isle of Wight under the evening light, more distinctly in some +respects, than before, yet like a dark cloud rising out of the sea.” + +From Worthing, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe went by short journeys to Seaford. +The following reflections, prompted by the “melancholy greatness of +nature,” on a little excursion by the shore, will strikingly illustrate +the thoughtful and pious cast of the writer. + +“July 19.—Went to see the rural village of Alfriston, over such a road +as I never saw before; and leading over such hills! Two men helped the +chaise down one of them. Some finely spreading oaks about the village, +which stands on an eminence in a green valley backed by grey downs. +Dined at a very old inn; had seats brought on the ground, before and +after dinner. Walked the greatest part of the way back to Seaford; saw +the sun set behind one of the vast hills. The silent course over this +great scene awful—the departure melancholy. Oh GOD! thy great laws will +one day be more fully known by thy creatures; we shall more fully +understand Thee and ourselves. The GOD of order and of all this and of +far greater grandeur, the Creator of that glorious sun, which never +fails in its course, will not neglect us, His intelligent, though frail +creatures, nor suffer us to perish, who have the consciousness of our +mortal fate long before it arrives, and of HIM. He, who called us first +from nothing, can again call us from death into life. + +“In this month, on the 24th of July, my dear father died two years +since: on the 14th of last March, my poor mother followed him: I am the +last leaf on the tree! The melancholy greatness with which I was +surrounded this evening, made me very sensible of this.” + +From Seaford the tourists proceeded to Eastbourne, and visited Beachy +Head. The journal contains the following short description, which places +a striking scene before us, with a few strokes of a masterly pencil. + +“July 20.—Dined at the little village of Friston, seated deep down +between immense hills, in a valley, that about a mile off opens to the +sea, at the dangerous place called Burling Gap. A Prussian captain, +whose vessel had been wrecked at the foot of Beacky, as our landlord +called it, had been nine weeks at our poor little inn. The village had +been almost buried in the snow, which came down upon the village from +the steep sides of the hills; then the thaw nearly overwhelmed it. From +the summit of a hill, on our way to Eastbourne, immense retrospect of +sea and land. Surprising appearance of the sea, which seemed to rise so +high, that it could scarce be distinguished from clouds; ships looked +like birds in the sky. Nothing seen but great and simple objects—the +round sea—the huge uncultivated headlands.” + +The ascent of Beachy Head, and the view from it, are described at some +length in the Journal; but the following scene on the shore is more +peculiar and striking. + +“July 23. Walked to the shore and along it, with a hope of having some +sight of the sea—front of Beachy Head from beneath it, though four or +five miles off. The beach impassable by any sort of carriage. A shore of +ruins under the cliffs, which gradually rise from what is called the +Wish-House, a small white building standing sweetly near the beach, to +the summit of the Cape. Large blocks of granite imbedded on the shore, +and extending to the waves, which rage and foam over them, giving one +dreadful ideas of shipwreck. Sometimes, patches of gravelly sand, or +pebbles, soon ending against masses of granite, or chalk, between which +it is difficult, and not always possible to walk; some of them must be +stepped upon. Within half a mile of the great front, unable to proceed +farther; sat down on a block, wearied out, desiring William to go on; he +was soon hid by a turn of the cliffs. Almost frightened at the solitude +and vastness of the scene, though _Chance_[1] was with me. Tide almost +out; only sea in front; white cliffs rising over me, but not impending; +strand all around a chaos of rocks and fallen cliffs, far out into the +waves; sea-fowl wheeling and screaming; all disappeared behind the +point, beyond which, is the great cliff; but we had doubled point after +point, in the hope that this would be the next, and had been much +deceived in the distances by these great objects; after one remote point +gained, another and another succeeded, and still the great cliff was +unattained; the white precipices beautifully varied with plants, green, +blue, yellow and poppy. Wheat-ears flew up often from the beach: +_Chance_ pursued them. At length, William returned, having been nearly, +but not quite, in front of the great promontory. Slowly and laboriously +we made our way back along the beach, greatly fatigued, the day +exceedingly hot, the horizon sulphurous, with lowering clouds; thunder +rolled faintly at a distance.” + +Footnote 1: + + Her favourite Dog. + +The same afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe continued their tour to +Hastings. The following is the picturesque view of their journey from +Bexhill to Hastings, in the evening. + +“From Bexhill, descended between the high, shrubby banks of lanes, so +narrow, that the wheels seemed to fill the passage; in some places a +horse could not have passed; we met no carriage, or we must have backed +a great way. Breathing honeysuckles on the banks; deep twilight. Heard +the sea frequently on our right when the wheels stopped. We had before +passed Pevensey levels and the town, with its fine old castle: towers in +ruins. On our approach, it reminded one of Newark castle. Near eleven, +before we reached Hastings; no moon; starlight; milky-way very lucid; +seemed to rise out of the sea. Solemn and pleasing night-scene. +Glowworms, in great numbers, shone silently and faintly on the dewy +banks, like something supernatural. Judgment of Shakspeare in selecting +this image to assist the terrific impression in his ghost-scene. May be +called earth-stars. The coast patrole passed us. How far to Hastings? +Three miles. Farther on had a narrow escape: horse and chaise suddenly +plunged down a bank into the pebbles; nearly overturned. Happily our +horse stood quite still, after the shock, and until we had ascertained +the rugged course we were in; I walked the rest of the way. Pass under +grand, dark rocks, disjointed and starting up in splintered points, and +huge masses. These rocks, near the beach and over the road, continue to +where the houses open.” + +From Hastings Mrs. Radcliffe proceeded along the coast to Dover, to +which place she was extremely partial, and thence by Feversham to +London. After minutely detailing her little adventures, she thus +concludes her journey:— + +“In all our tour saw nothing so fine and beautiful as the views of sea +and land from the Downs over the East Bourne. The sweet repose of the +landscape and sea-bay to Hastings, and the grandeur of the various +views, on all sides between the valleys of the South Downs, and even +above these summits, circling nearly the whole horizon, with soft blue +waves.” + +In the autumn of this year, Mrs. Radcliffe spent a fortnight at Little +Hampton, and returning by Haslemere, thus describes the country +immediately southward of that place. + +“Three miles of continual ascent, or descent of almost tremendous hills, +long and steep opening to vast distances, now obscured in ruin, but +sublime in their obscurity— + + ‘Where wilds immeasurably spread, + Seem lengthening, as we go.’—GOLDSMITH. + + ‘These high, wild hills and rough uneven roads, + Drag out our miles and make them wearisome.’ + CYMBELINE. + +“This is the country, from which Collins drew his first ideas, and fed +his early taste for the wild and the grand. + + ’O! vales and wild-woods, would he say, + In yonder grave your Druid lies.” + COLLINS. + +“Have never seen such wild woody mountains before in England; they +resemble the forests of Wetteravia more than any I have seen, but with +this difference, that there the mountains are more pointing, abrupt and +rocky, and that here the road often winds round the edge of the hills +into deep and most picturesque glades, where comfortable cottages lie +snug beneath noble trees, and ruddy children play under the branches, +among the huge timber felled on the ground, the Woodman’s implements and +the thatched hovel. Sylvan, or other rural industry appeared in every +hamlet. Clouds of smoke from places, where wood was charred, sometimes +darkened the air. This is the most woody tract in Sussex, and probably +in England. The eastern end of the country has no wood: the immense +hills stand bare in all their grandeur.” + +The following notes are extracted from the Journal of a Tour, made in +the autumn of 1801, to Southampton, Lymington, and the Isle of Wight. +The two first days’ journey supply no matters of interest: in the +afternoon of the third day, 29th Sept. the travellers thus approach the +beautiful neighbourhood of Southampton: + +“At length, the blue hill tops of the Isle of Wight appeared faintly on +the horizon, over the stretching forest masses of the near scene. At the +sixth mile-stone, entered a part of the New Forest; beautiful woods and +glades; thick trees shadowing the road; wherever the woods opened, +especially on the right and in front, other rich masses and others still +beyond, rose pompously. One of the perspectives in front particularly +fine, as we saw our road descending among the deep woods, and other +woods rising up the hills and crowning the bold summit of an eminence, +that seemed to rear itself over all the forest. The deep gloom of stormy +clouds and fleeting lights of sunshine extremely various; the sun often +shedding a misty glory over the solemn woods in the west, while sudden +and awful shadows dwelt wide over other summits. Passed a most +picturesque hamlet of green mossed cottages scattered round a little +lawn, where the woods opened, but closed again in thicker shades. Four +miles of this sweet scenery, when we entered upon heath, and came upon a +high level common, extending a mile, or two, that opened upon a vast +prospect on either hand: in front, all the hills of the Isle of Wight, +from east to west, swelled along the horizon. On the right, the wavy +woods of the New Forest bounded all the western and northern view. The +richness of this vast mass of tufted woods is indescribable. Part of the +Southampton water was visible on this side, flowing between wooded banks +with villages on its edge. On the left, the view over the vale was not +so grand, but more diversified by the light green of pastures and by +frequent villages and white mansions among the woods, that spread among +the gentle slopes. Showers and sunshine alternately dimmed and +brightened the hills. The splendour of the sun fell, at times, upon the +forest, in the west, while a heavy shower darkened an open valley in the +east, softened the verdure of the nearer hills, and spread over the +woods and meadows and villages a gradual chastening tint, that was +enchanting. At length, the spire of the great church of Southampton +appeared over the woods in front, while the town was yet unseen.” + +After a short notice of Southampton, where Mrs. Radcliffe remained only +two nights, the Journal proceeds:— + +“After breakfast, set off for Lyndhurst; passed along the head of the +bay, and by Millbrook, then the long bridge and causeway. After a long +hill, descend upon the New Forest, and pass between open lawns and +woods, capping every little eminence, and spreading round like those of +Kensington Gardens. Longed for the speed of a stag to bound along these +lawns and endless forest-glades. Dined at the Crown, in a parlour +opposite to the inn, which was full; some forest-commissioners here. The +Princess Sophia of Gloucester expected at the King’s House; shown to us +by an elderly woman. Good rooms; ancient furniture. A wood fire on the +hearth of the Princess’s room and on that of the dining-room below. All +these rooms look under thick lofty trees to the forest woods, that rise +close over the village, towards Brokenhurst. Oak-benches at the upper +end of Rufus’-hall, where the forest courts are held—the most ancient +part of the building. A large iron stirrup, called Rufus’s stirrup. + +“From Lyndhurst, the ride to Brokenhurst is through five miles of +pompous forest groves, of which grandeur is the characteristic, mingled +with great beauty. The forest crowds over the road. Only two spots the +whole way where the trees retire round lawns. Hence to Lymington: the +country is inclosed; but still the lanes are forest-lanes. Passed +Boldre, leaving Mr. Gilpin’s a mile on the left, and soon came in view +of the Isle of Wight, with Lymington, and its neat cupola-church. Came +in at dusk; made our way in the market-place, between waggons and cheese +piled up for the morrow’s fair. + +“Oct. 3. Left Lymington at half past three, in the packet for Yarmouth; +after viewing the fair, and the fine booths of trinkets and plate. +Passed many charming residences among the woody banks on the left. +Glided smoothly under a light summer air; the evening splendid, and the +scene most lovely. The Needles are vast dark blocks of rock, tall, but +not pointed, standing out from the island in the sea. Hurst castle, with +its dark line of peninsula stretching athwart the Channel. The Needles +become more huge seen against the light, with the point of the Alum Rock +in shade. These objects, with the high line of the Isle of Purbeck, +faintly grey beyond, composed a perfect picture, with most harmonious +colouring. The light silver grey of the sea first met the eye, then the +dark Alum Rock projected to meet Hurst Castle, whose towers were +pencilled in deep grey beyond, which softened away to the heights of +Purbeck, that closed the perspective. After sunset, streaks of brightest +crimson appeared on the sky, behind clouds, black and swelling; the +upper shores clear, though dark. Approached Yarmouth, under this sweet +twilight. The western shore of Yarmouth goes off in a darkly wooded +point, with many white houses, or cottages, among the trees. Landed on +Yarmouth quay, small, and crowded with people. Dutch sentinels on the +little fort over the quay and rampart of the old castle. Our inn built +by Sir Robert Holmes, governor of the island, on the scite, I fancy, of +Henry the Eighth’s old castle. Our horse and gig came in another packet. + +“Oct. 4. After breakfasting at Yarmouth, set out in a bright morning for +the Light-house above the Needles. As we rose, the Channel and the +English coast, from Portsdown Hill (known by its long chalk-pit) to the +shore near Pool in Dorsetshire, lay before us, bounded partly by the New +Forest and thick inclosures, and spreading with towns and villages and +innumerable seats and farms, with a vast extent of the northern part of +the Isle of Wight, and with Southampton Bay, to Lymington, here and +there a white house on the shore, snug under trees, and other house-tops +peeping out, almost wherever I directed the glass, above the forest. +Discovered Lyndhurst steeple, with the large white house at Mount Royal, +‘bosomed high in tufted trees.’ The whole country, from the +neighbourhood of Southampton to the West, rises gradually from the shore +into a line of horizon little varied; but the richness and cheerful +beauty of this widely extending amphitheatre, seen over the calm blue +Channel, with here and there a white sail and a ship of war at anchor, +permit no desire for greater variety. As we rose upon the down, this +scene enlarged: the Isle of Purbeck became more majestic; its outline is +more mountainous than that of the Isle of Wight, with a range of high +awful cliffs below. It was now tinged with misty azure, but the sun +brightened all the sea before it. Two of its summits appeared finely in +the perspective from Cowes’ Point. The effect of the sea so close on +either hand of this vast western promontory, called the Needle Point, or +the Alum rock, running out upon the ocean like a long narrow causeway, +is awful. You have a wonderful and rather a painful sensation of the +narrowness of the earth that bears you, though it may be half a mile, or +more, in width. As the Needle rocks were not visible from the +Light-house, we left the chaise, and descended the down half a mile, and +looked upon them. On their summits, which now seem sharp, and splintered +into ledges and points, perceived with the glass numbers of dark birds +quietly seated; not one took wing, or uttered any cry. Perhaps it was +owing to our great height, that the Needles disappointed us, and +appeared insignificant, compared with the grander objects around us: +listened to the surge breaking below, round the feet of these rocks. Did +not venture near enough the edge to see into Alum Bay. Drove to +Freshwater Bay. The inn at Freshwater Gate in the bottom is a little +cottage, with two or three rooms apart on the beach. A ruinous and +desolate shore spreads and rises on either hand. Mounted a promontory, +which confined our view from the inn, on the right. Greatness and +desolation. As the tide was coming in, could not see a cave in the cliff +below. Returned to Yarmouth at five.” + +The following is Mrs. Radcliffe’s account of a visit to the tract called +Undercliffe. + +“Oct. 6. Set off for the Undercliffe, a tract of shore formed by fallen +cliffs, and closely barricadoed by a wall of rock of vast height. +Entered upon it about a mile from Kniton, and found ourselves in such a +scene of ruin, as we never saw before. The road is, for the most part, +close to the wall of rock, which seems to lie in loose horizontal +strata, with frequent perpendicular fissures, which threaten the +traveller with destruction, as he passes sometimes beneath enormous +masses, that lean forward. This is the boundary on one side of the road; +on the other side, is an extremely irregular and rugged descent of half +a mile towards the sea: on this side, there are sometimes what may be +called amphitheatres of rock, where all the area is filled with ruins, +which are, however, frequently covered with verdure and underwood, that +stretch up the sides, with the wildest pomp, and shelter here a cottage, +here a villa among the rocky hillocks. We were two hours and a half in +going from Kniton to the inn at Steephill, five miles, W. leading the +horse almost the whole way: a Druid scene of wildness and ruin. +Sometimes the road led us into vast semicircular bays of rock, filled up +entirely to the eye with wild wood and broken hillocks; the sea below +appearing to stretch so from point to point, that it seemed impossible +to make our way out, till the road led us under projecting crags of the +promontory into other recesses, and, winding under these threatening +walls, again led near the sea, on which I looked down, not without +terror. Descended upon the romantic and sweet village of St. Lawrence, +among thickets on a hill, near the shore. Beautiful cottages, covered +with ivy even to the chimney tops, with each its garden, and some with +little orchards hung with golden fruit; clear, gushing rills passing +under the shades to the sea. A mile beyond, the beautiful village of +Steephill, in the same style. Went to the New Inn, standing on a hill, +with a wide sea view in front, half a mile off, and at the foot of St. +Boniface Downs, whose steep green sides rise to a tremendous height +behind it, having below them, on the other hand, the little woody +village of St. Boniface, with its beautiful cottages and villas.” + +The remaining memoranda of the visit to Steephill, are too long to be +extracted, but contain some beautiful descriptions, and several vivid +notices of the effects of light, as for example:—“The sea in gloom, with +gleams of cold silvery light upon it, where the clouds began to break: +these lights finely marked the distances on the grand surface of the +ocean, as they fell in blue lines.” Again, “Sunlights on the sea, and, +now and then, bright green spots between black shadows;”—in the evening +“a fiery sunset with _sullen_ clouds.” The following short recollection +of a storm is full of feeling and power:— + +“After dark, a storm, with thunder and lightning; listened to the +strong, steady force of the wind and waves below. The thunder rolled and +burst at intervals, and often the sound was so mingled with that of the +wind and waves, as to be scarcely distinguished from it. No complaining +of the wind, but a strong and awful monotony. Lightning, very blue, +showed at moments the foaming waves far out: utter darkness between the +flashes. Glad to hear from the other side of the house, cheerful voices +talking, or singing. When the storm subsided, the thunder rolled away +towards the Sussex coast. This display of the elements was the grandest +scene I ever beheld; a token of God directing his world. What +particularly struck me was the appearance of irresistible power, which +the deep monotonous sound of the wind and surge conveyed. Nothing +sudden; nothing laboured; all a continuance of sure power, without +effort.” + +From Steephill the travellers proceeded to Ryde, where Mrs. Radcliffe +made the following characteristic remarks:—“Rejoice to look again on a +peopled sea, and prefer this point of the Isle, for animated and +beautiful scenery, to any other. The back of the island has very +extensive views; and, for that extensiveness, may be called grand; but +there are no mountain lines, no shapes, that overwhelm us with +admiration: the want of wood forbids them magnificence. The undercliff +is wild and romantic, rather than grand; but the sea horizon from it, is +often very grand. Upon the whole, I prefer rich beauty to wild beauty, +unless accompanied by such shapes of grandeur as verge upon the sublime. +Lovely sunset; a roseate, melting into saffron and shades of blue; some +light purple streaks. Below, the dark woody line of shore bending +towards Cowes; the bay at its feet, purpled from the clouds. All this +seen from our bed-room windows, above and between lofty trees.” + +Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe returned by Salisbury. We extract from the +journal the approach to Salisbury and the description of its Cathedral. + +“Oct. 13. Rainy morning; cleared up to a lovely afternoon. Left +Southampton before twelve, for Salisbury. Turned out of the road, at the +village of Totting, and soon entered upon the skirts of the New Forest, +but saw no avenues there, no lovely forest-glades, rather forest-land, +than forest; but we had often rich woody views into the vale, near +Southampton on the right, and continual forests rising on the left; and +a few miles from Plaitford, came upon some of the sweetest scenery of +the New Forest. Upon a wild glade, touching effect of misty light, +beyond its gloom. Sometimes an opening in the near copses showed a +distant perspective of deep shade. About five miles from Salisbury, gain +the summit of a high ridge, and look at once upon a new and grander +ridge large and sharper hills rising to a great extent, with the vast +Cathedral and lofty spire of Salisbury in front. We had lingered so much +on our road, that as we entered Salisbury, a new moon gave us faintly +the shadow of its sublime Cathedral, with its pointed roofs and its +pinnacles and its noble spire. How could Mr. Gilpin prefer a tower to +it! Saw, as we passed, the moonlight shining through the windows of the +aisles and touching aslant the lofty spire, while the elms beside it +were in deep shade. Had entered the city by a deep Gothic gateway, and +saw others lighted up in perspective, in a street, out of which we +turned to our inn, the Antelope—a very good inn. + +“Oct. 14. Went, in the rain, to the Cathedral; entered it just as the +organ and chaunt struck up; very fine, but not so solemn, as at +Canterbury. The church most light, beautiful and elegant; but it did not +affect me, like the solemn simplicity, the awful roofs and grand +perspective of Canterbury. The tone of the organ, too, very good, but +did not listen for its swelling and dying sounds, as through the vast +aisles of Canterbury; there is not space for them to roll in, and murmur +afar off, as there. Was much struck with the effigies of the dead, laid +out on each side of the great aisle, from pillar to pillar. Having been +brought by Mr. Wyatt from St. Mary’s Chapel, that terminates the choir, +they have been placed on a raised step, that seems indeed to have been +originally designed for them. The pillars of this Cathedral are in +Gothic clusters, not of the slender form, that afterwards prevailed, +but, as Mr. Gilpin says, “when Saxon heaviness first began to give way.” +Their effect is elegant. They are washed of a stone colour, as are the +walls and roofs; the last are without tracery, and are marked as if of +brick. The arches are obtusely pointed, having one narrow vein of open +work running near the outer edge, which gives lightness to them.” + +After an attempt to visit Stonehenge, which was frustrated by a violent +storm, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe returned, in the leisurely manner which +they preferred, to London. + +In the autumn of 1802, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe took a journey to +Leicester and Warwick, and returned by Woodstock and Oxford. From the +journal kept during that tour, the following descriptions of Kenilworth, +of one or two scenes in Warwick Castle, and of Blenheim, are perhaps +most worthy of selection. Both Warwick Castle and Blenheim are described +with great minuteness; but both these mansions are so generally known, +that it is thought sufficient to extract such portions of the accounts +of them only, as are most characteristic of the writer’s feelings and +tastes. + + + KENILWORTH. + +“Left Coventry at half past twelve, and passed through a pleasant +well-wooded country to Kenilworth. Almost every village over-topped with +lofty trees. Passed for some miles over Kenilworth Chase, by a straight +road of noble breadth, bordered with forest. Part of this forest was, in +former times, cut down, in order to dislodge robbers. The gate of the +castle, to which we drove up, is in the grey square tower, built on a +high rock, by Leicester. This gate being now a residence, the former +entrance by it to the court of the Castle is stopped up, and we passed +through the garden, at its side, into the green and open area, that was +once the grand court of the castle. Hence we looked up to the noble +masses of ruin, that still stand proudly, and form three broken and +irregular sides of what was once the inner court. Of the buildings that +formed the fourth side, there are now no vestiges, except the +_knolliness_ of the ground, where they once stood, may be called such, +and except part of the buildings still called Leicester’s, these having +been built by him. These are a fine mass of ruined walls, covered with +thickest ivy, on the left; on the right, stands a more noble mass, with +three lofty arches in a row, going the whole depth of the wall, sixteen +feet: this is called Cæsar’s Tower, and, though the oldest part of the +Castle, appears, on the outside, the freshest and newest. It is of a +greyer and more solid stone than the rest. This, too, is finely hung +with ivy. Between these masses, in perspective, forming the third side +of the court, is the most picturesque remainder of the castle, though +Cæsar’s Tower is the grandest. This was once the great hall, or +banqueting-room. Its three beautiful pointed window-frames are there +still; and the arch of a Gothic door, most elegantly twined with +vine-leaves, all now hung and clustered with the richest drapery of ivy. +The trunk of some of this ivy is of great thickness, and it is so old, +that in some places, the branches are sapless and leafless, and the grey +stalks seemed to crawl about the ruin in sympathy. Other remains of +buildings partly connect the three sides of the court, and are +intermingled and crowned with alder and ash plants. This view of the +ruin was very striking; the three chief masses great and solemn, without +being beautiful. They spoke at once to the imagination, with the force +and simplicity of truth, the nothingness and brevity of this +life—‘generations have beheld us and passed away, as you now behold us, +and shall pass away: they thought of the generations before them, as you +now think of them, and as future ages shall think of you. We have +witnessed this, yet we remain; the voices that revelled beneath us are +heard no more, yet the winds of Heaven still sound in our ivy.’ And a +still and solemn sound it was as we stood looking up at these walls.” + + + SCENES IN WARWICK CASTLE. + +“After leaving the great hall, went, on the left, into the chapel—a +plain memorable chapel, lined with oak; then to the armoury, a long, +narrow gallery, or rather a suite of narrow rooms, communicating by +small Gothic doorways, and extending, perhaps, nearly the whole length +of the Castle, with tall windows of painted glass, bowing out into the +court of the Castle. The walls of this armoury were covered with weapons +of various kinds and sizes, from the Indian war-spear, to the Highland +dirk, with a knife and fork tucked into the same sheath. But what struck +me most was near the end of the gallery (when it makes a sudden turn +into the tower that terminates the castle), where appeared before me a +broad, yet dark staircase of oak, and at the foot of it, as if guarding +the passage, a large figure in complete armour, the beaver down, and a +sword in its hand! The general twilight, with the last western gleam +breaking through the painted window at the foot of the staircase, and +touching the bronze, gave full effect to this scene, and heightened the +obscurity of the stairs, in perspective. This armour came from Germany; +our conductor knew no more. Saw the brass coat, shot-proof, worn by Lord +Brooke when he was shot in the eye during his attack upon Lichfield +Cathedral. On the opposite side, a complete suit of black armour, the +knees with projecting points: could learn nothing of its history. Left +the building with regret. Paused again in the court to admire the +beautiful lofty acacias and other noble trees surrounding the lawn, and +the most majestic towers forming the grand front. The octagon tower, +rising in the angle of the walls near the house-door, the most +beautiful, as far as regards proportion; the one nearest the house the +most venerable and warlike. Near the summit an embattled overhanging +gallery, where formerly, no doubt, sentinels used to pace during the +night, looked down upon the walls of the Castle, the rivers and the +country far and wide, received the watch-word from the sentinel, perched +in the little watch-tower, higher still and seeing farther in the +moonlight, and repeated it to the soldiers on guard on the walls and +gates below. Before those great gates and underneath these towers, +Shakspeare’s ghost might have stalked; they are in the very character +and spirit of such an apparition, grand and wild and strange; there +should, however, have been more extent. Stayed before these grey towers +till the last twilight.” + + + BLENHEIM. + +“Lovely day. At eleven, walked through the Park. The triumphal arch, at +the entrance, has too much the air of a merely handsome gateway; the +convenient division into passages in the ordinary mode of considerable +gates, leaves nothing appropriate to Fame. The view of the Park, with +the turrets of the palace, of the mass of wood beyond, the verdant sweep +of the intermediate ground, that descends to the water, with the water +itself and the Palladian bridge beyond, is very striking, a few paces +after the entrance. The palace itself, though here seen beyond and over +clumps of trees, appears to greater advantage than when more distinctly +viewed: its many turrets, now beheld in clusters, have an air of +grandeur, which they want when separately observable. As we advance, the +groves on the left thicken and have a forest-like shade; but the view on +the rising ground, including the celebrated pillar, is too much broken +into parts. Though the ground rises finely, its great flowing lines are +spoiled by too many groves; there should have been one, or two, grand +masses of wood, and the rest sweeping lawn. This park is not comparable +with that at Knole, either for swell and variety of surface, or for +grandeur and disposition of wood; no such enchanting groves of plane and +birch and oak, as there. But a very grand avenue extends from the Oxford +gate to the palace. On entering the garden, of finest turf and shade, +pass the east front to the lawn of the back front, opening to a view of +distant hills between the high groves. The back front of the house much +the best; more simple, and, seen in perspective, very good. Parterres in +the flower-garden, with basket-work round them, in the pretty fashion of +the last century in France. Hence, through deep shade to the sheep-walk, +where the light opens upon the country, and then soon look down upon +another bridge and water. This walk continues on the brow, for about +half a mile, very sweetly, and leads to a sloping lawn shaded with the +noblest trees in the garden. More struck with this spot than with any, +except about the large lake. First, two poplars of most astonishing +height, much larger than those in the avenue at Manheim. At their feet, +the light green spray foliage of these deciduous cypresses had a most +charming effect. Near the poplars, a lofty plane, but inferior in +height. Near this, a surprising Portugal laurel swept the ground, and +spread to a vast circumference; a very extraordinary tree for size. +Delighted with the steep green slope, the water and bridge below, the +abrupt woody banks opposite, and, above all, the grandeur of the shades. +Pass the bridge: on the right, the massy rocks of the cascade, but no +water; on the left, the water winding beyond the woody banks; a highly +tufted island, with a wooden building near its margin, very picturesque. + +“Over a sofa, in the dining-room, a large family picture by Sir Joshua +Reynolds. The Duke seated, and turning to the Marquis of Blandford, when +a boy, with an air and countenance in which the nobleman and the good +man are blended; more pleasing and dignified than Romney’s portrait of +him. The Duchess, of pleasing countenance, and much sweetness in her +eyes. Of the children, the most striking is Lady Charlotte (Nares), five +or six years old, playfully holding a mask, and laughing behind it, as +she frightens her sister, who draws back in doubt and with some +apprehension but calmly. The figure of Lady C. has all the natural, +playful grace of a child, though the attitude is rather overstrained. +Vandyke’s portrait of Charles the First’s Queen is not so fine as his +picture of her in the domestic drawing-room at Warwick Castle. + +“It is in the superior colours and expressive drawing of the tapestry, +that Blenheim chiefly excels the interior decorations of other great +mansions. That in the state room is from Brussels, and most exquisite; +presented by that city to the great Duke. It entirely covers the lofty +walls. Each compartment displays a different siege or battle, and the +distance, fading often into blue hills, is so finely shaded, that the +whole seems almost a living prospect, and that you might step into the +scene. The figures in the foreground are nearly as large as life, and +chiefly portraits: they are admirably grouped, and the action not only +spirited and natural, but often full of character. The Duke is always on +horseback, and has the same air of countenance—attentive and eager; the +features somewhat thin. The face of a French spy, under examination +before the Duke, is admirable; watchful, sedate, and firm. In the next +compartment is a very spirited figure of Lord Cadogan, on horseback, his +hat held off at arm’s length, receiving orders from the Duke. His +eagerness, proud submission, and impatience to be gone, while he bends +to listen, and can scarcely rein his impatient charger, are all +conspicuous. His faithful dog, that would be near him in every battle, +and that returned safe home at last, is waiting beside him.” + +In June 1805, Mrs. Radcliffe went to see Belvedere House, the seat of +Lord Eardley. The following is an extract from her account of that +mansion. + +“The park entrance from Lexden Heath is through a low, iron gate, beyond +which is seen the gravel road, winding like a path, among the turf, +under the stately branches of clumps of oak, &c. Neither the house, nor +any good prospect is visible here; but, as you advance along the elegant +plain of the park, a blue distance of the Essex hills appears beneath +the low-spread branches of oaks, where there is a seat; on the right, +the Grecian portico of the house, among the deep shades, which exclude +all other view. The entrance is to a light, elegant hall, or vestibule, +of French grey stucco, as are all the extensive passages of the house, +the floors covered with oilcloth, of a small pattern, in shades of blue. +On the right, through an ante-room of elegant simplicity, pass to a +dining-room; the walls of French grey; silk-moreen curtains, orange; +chocolate-coloured fringe. Over the door, two exquisite views of Venice, +by Canaletti; the Alchymist, Teniers, in a corner near the fire; then +Rembrandt (by himself), looking out of the picture, with a broad smile, +a coarse but arch countenance; Van Trump, the Dutch Admiral, a bluff +countenance, as if the habits of a seaman predominated over those of the +officer. After seeing several other very fine pictures here, pass some +smaller rooms and elegant passages to the red drawing-room, the finest +in the house; hung with crimson damask, bordered with gold; curtains and +chairs the same, and a most rich carpet, in crimson and black. A finely +stuccoed carved ceiling; a large bow-window looking upon the woods of +the park. In a shaded corner, near the chimney, a most exquisite Claude, +an evening view, perhaps over the Campagna of Rome. The sight of this +picture imparted much of the luxurious repose and satisfaction, which we +derive from contemplating the finest scenes of Nature. Here was the +poet, as well as the painter, touching the imagination, and making you +see more than the picture contained. You saw the real light of the sun, +you breathed the air of the country, you felt all the circumstances of a +luxurious climate on the most serene and beautiful landscape; and, the +mind being thus softened, you almost fancied you heard Italian music on +the air—the music of Paisiello; and such, doubtless, were the scenes +that inspired him. Passed into smaller rooms, and by the same elegant +lobbies, to the summer drawing-room, where the bowed window looks down +upon a noble sweep of the Thames, with the well-wooded sloping hills of +Essex in the distance. The noble simplicity of this long bend of the +Thames, and of the whole scene, is very striking. The eye passes +abruptly, between the hanging woods of two jutting eminences of the +park, to the green level below, which forms in front a perfect bow of +several miles. The woods near the house are so planted, as to conceal +the entrance and exit of the river upon the plains below, leaving +nothing of it visible but that line of perfect grace and grandeur which +it marks between the two green shores, while the vessels seem to steal +upon the scene, appearing and disappearing, on either hand, from behind +the woods. The dark verdure of these, the lighter green of the plain +beneath, the silver grey of the river that bounds it, the white sails +and various shades of the fleeting vessels, ships with clustering +top-gallant sails, sloops with the stretching and elegantly swelling +sails at their heads and above them, and skiffs, or other boats, with +their little spritsails, too often bending low:—these, with the hills of +Essex bending into bluish distance, form altogether a soothing harmony +of tints and objects.—Among other pictures that struck me, (especially +the family of Snyders, by Rubens,) was one of Wouvermans, representing +the dark gate of a fort, with cavaliers on war-horses, waiting +impatiently for admittance, their horses rearing and prancing; upon the +high, shadowing walls, shrubs appear against the light sky, and above +them is seen a high embankment, with a cannon pointed downwards, and +near it a tree, down which a man is hastily descending, as if he had +been overlooking a skirmish on the plains below, (not in view,) whence +the party without the gate seem to have made a precipitate retreat. They +are, perhaps, waiting till he has reported to the guard at the gate, +whether they are friends or enemies. The impatience for admittance of +those who think themselves likely to be pursued, the cautious +apprehension of those within the fort, and the unseen and doubtful +battle, hinted at by the man on the tree, render this a very interesting +picture. + +“The grand staircase, by which we passed to the room over this, is +remarkable for its lightness and elegance. All its light is received +from a raised frame of glass, which crowns a most richly stuccoed roof, +that forms a broad border only round it. I was much struck with the +lightness, proportion, and elegance of this staircased hall, and indeed +with the numerous long passages of the house. In the family dining-room +the pictures are all portraits. One of the late Lady Eardley, when +young, is a profile of most exquisite sweetness. + + ‘Softness and sweetest innocence she wears, + And looks like Nature, in the world’s first bloom.’ + +Strong countenance of a tutor of Lord Eardley. No view, but of the Park, +from any of these rooms; nor from the library, opening by pillars from a +kind of ante-room, or vestibule. Before a cone at the upper end, is a +most noble mahogany library-table with drawers. Between the windows are +semicircular inlaid tables, with deep drawers for maps; some valuable +modern books, but no old ones. The art of giving effect to the finest +views, by permitting them to be seen only from the rooms whence they may +be observed without interruption and in their perfection, is carried +very far here; for, as you advance through the grounds to the house, the +eye is confined by the woods; and is suffered only once to catch a +glimpse of distance under the spreading shades, sufficient to touch the +imagination and excite expectation of a scene, whose grandeur and +simplicity, when at length it does appear, fully repays the impatience +of curiosity. We did not see the woody grounds extending very far along +the brow over the Thames, nor the tower of the Belvedere, nearly at the +extremity of them and on their highest point. This must look down +suddenly upon a new scene of the river, where it spreads into that broad +bay, whose eastern point projects opposite to the broken steeps of +Purfleet, and comprehends within its curve Erith, with its ivied church, +and the hills around it, varied with woods and villas, and whose western +point lies near the foot of this eminence, concealed by the woods. But +from a window of this lofty tower I doubt not the eye extends to +Gravesend in the east, and probably further. Its southern window must +look athwart the back of Shooter’s Hill to the Knockholt beeches on the +ridge near Seven-oaks; and its northern one over Epping Forest and a +great part of Essex. Wherever the wood-walks open, there must be a +glimpse of the river, and white sails gliding athwart the vista.” + +In the autumn of 1807, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe visited Knole House for +the second time. The following is a small portion of Mrs. Radcliffe’s +reminiscences of the house, and especially of its pictures. + +“We were astonished at the extent of this mansion, and at its vast +collection of portraits. Warwick Castle has the greatest number of +Vandyke’s pictures; Blenheim of Rubens’s; Knole of Holbein’s, with many +of Vandyke too. The old porter at the first gate had lived about the +spot fifty years; was there in the time of the late Duke’s grandfather: +those were grand times; the late Dukes were very good, but things had +got dearer then. When we were going, he desired Mr. R. to write our +names in the book, that my lord might have the _pleasure_ of seeing who +had been there. + + * * * * * + +At the upper end of the lofty and noble hall, where the high table +stood, is now a very large statue of Demosthenes, robed, with buskined +feet and a book or scrowl in his hand; the attitude composed; the +countenance expresses nothing of the energy and fire that characterize +his eloquence. It was bought by the late Duke in Italy, for seven +hundred pounds. The brown gallery is almost covered with portraits by +Holbein, the greatest assemblage of famous persons I ever saw. In the +little closet of entrance, the countenance of Giardini, the composer, +gives you the idea that he is listening to the long drawn notes of his +own violin. Holbein’s Erasmus, in the gallery, must be truth itself: the +keen and quick, small eye; the humorous, though serious smile; the thin, +finely-pointed, yet bending nose; the thin-drawn lips and chin, are all +exquisite. In a picture containing three portraits, that in the middle +is of Luther. His bluff, blunt, strong habits of expression; his +dauntless and persevering mind; his consciousness of the truth and +importance of his cause, and his resolution to maintain it, are well +expressed: strength and resolution in the chin. On his right is +Melancthon, reasoning, acute, amiable. On his left, Pomeranius; a +somewhat sly and monkish countenance. Queen Elizabeth and several of her +Court: Salisbury, civil, sagacious and fastidious; effeminate; very +fair: Burleigh, with a steady, penetrating, grey eye, high forehead, +with black hair; a cast of humour: Leicester, sturdy and crafty. + +“Lord Surrey, the poet, young, thin and melancholy. No very fine +pictures in what is called Lady Betty Germain’s room, which looks +delightfully upon the green and stately alleys of the garden. High +state-bed; dingy white plumes crown the bed-posts. In the dressing-room +are three Earls of Dorset, and drawings by Titian and Michael Angelo. In +another room a state-bed, presented by James the First. In the +dressing-room, among many fine pictures, is one of Sir Theodore Mayerne, +physician to James the First, and to two of his successors, by Vandyke: +he is seated in an armchair, and his right hand rests on a human skull; +his own head is grey, and he looks at you with a mild and sensible +countenance, turned a little towards his left shoulder; the fading look +of age, without actual weakness. + +“In the great dining-room below, Hoppner’s copy of his portrait of Mr. +Pitt, a strong, and, I think, not a flattering likeness. Fletcher, +intelligent, thoughtful, and tender; brown complexion, acute black eyes. +Beaumont, florid, with light blue eyes; of an open, cheerful, handsome +countenance. Near the windows is a group of portraits, painted by Sir +Joshua Reynolds, with one of himself, in the midst of these his familiar +friends, now all dead. On his right is Doctor Johnson, drawn +bareheaded—a severe deduction from the harmonies of any frame: it is +nearly a profile; intense thought and anxiety press down the benevolent +brow. On the left is Goldsmith, painted in the same style, a strong +countenance, but of very different expression; coarse; the eyebrow’s not +bent, like Johnson’s, firmly and evenly over the eyes, but only towards +the nose; the other end highly hoisted, as if with caprice; unpleasing +countenance; nothing of the goodness of Johnson. Garrick, with a most +pleasant and living look, piercing eyes fixed upon you, with perfect +ease and kindness, as he leans with both arms on a table; older than the +portraits I have seen. Burke, vulgarized by Opie. Betterton, the actor, +manly, sensible face. Pope, old, wrinkled, spectre-like. Swift, gentle +in comparison with Pope. Otway, heavy, squalid, unhappy; yet tender +countenance, but not so squalid as one we formerly saw; full, speaking, +black eyes; it seems as if dissolute habits had overcome all his finer +feelings, and left him little of mind, except a sense of sorrow. Dryden, +in his velvet cap, younger than usual. Addison, mild. Waller, thinner +and older than usual, with scarce a spark of his fire left, but still a +courtier-like gentleman. + +“In a small, domestic parlour, leading into the book-room, is that fine +picture of Lord Gowrie and Vandyke, by the latter; the finest portrait I +ever saw, except one of Rubens, by himself, at Buckingham House, and +another at Warwick, in the cabinet that terminates the long suite of +staterooms. + +“In a blue room, a domestic drawing-room, Lord Whitworth, a shrewd and +comely man of the world, with spirited and penetrating grey eyes; an +expressive but somewhat clouded brow. The Duchess, in a black velvet +riding habit, with a hat and feather, by Opie; a pleasing picture: you +do not think of her in this portrait as of the Duchess, which is the +object of one in the drawing-room, but as of a happy wife and a +good-natured, sensible woman; a little too much care in the attitude. + +“In one room a head of Louis the Fourteenth, all flutter and fume. + +“The rooms are so numerous and the suites of them so long, that, though +I have seen them twice, I could not now find my way through them, and +cannot even recollect them all. All the principal rooms look upon the +garden, with its lawns and lofty shades. Scarcely a spot of brown earth +is visible: so many various tints of green; the trees sometimes bending +their branches down to the shrubs and flowers. + +“In the Park, abounding with noble beech groves, is one, on the left of +the road leading to the house, which, for mass and overtopping pomp, +excels even any in Windsor Park, when viewed as you descend from the +Park gate, whence shade rises above shade, with amazing and magnificent +grandeur. In this mass of wood is one beech, that stretches upwards its +grey limbs among the light, feathery foliage to a height and with a +majesty that is sublime. Over a seat, placed round the hole, it spreads +out a light yet umbrageous fan, most graceful and beautiful. With all +its grandeur and luxuriance, there is nothing in this beech heavy or +formal; it is airy, though vast and majestic, and suggests an idea at +once of the strength and fire of a hero! I should call a beech-tree—and +this beech above every other—the hero of the forest, as the oak is +called the king.” + +In the autumn of 1811, Mrs. Radcliffe went again to Portsmouth and the +Isle of Wight. The following extracts bear but a small proportion to her +entire journal of this little tour.—“Passed through Bere Forest, on the +right, with many seats and woods and spires, around. Almost dusk. An +horizon of glowing crimson lay behind the woods on the right, where the +sun had set. Delightful to catch the different saffron, crimson, or +fiery tints among the purple streaks. All the prospect lay in sullen +twilight from Portsdown Hill, and it was quite dark when we reached +Portsmouth. Could just discern the high rampart walks, with trees, +before we rambled under the deep, fortified gateway of Portsea. Went to +the George Inn, a very large handsome house, with many galleries and +staircases. Handsome furniture and excellent accommodation, except that +you could get nothing when you wanted it. We had fish brought without +plates, and then plates without bread. All this owing to a vast throng +of company, two hundred vessels or more being detained by winds, besides +many ships of war. Nothing but ringing of bells and running about of +waiters. If you ask a waiter a question, he begins a civil answer, but +shuts the door before you have heard it all. It was very diverting to +hear the different tones and measure of the ringings, particularly about +supper time, and the next day about five, when every body happened to be +dining at one and the same time, to hear them all ringing together, or +in quick succession, in different keys and measure, according to the +worn out, or better, patience of the ringer. These different keys +enabled me to distinguish how often each bell was rung before it was +answered; also the increasing impatience of the ringer, till, at the +third, or fourth summons, the bell was in a downright passion. There was +a mischievous amusement in this, after we had gone through the delay +ourselves, and had gotten what we wanted. Such life and bustle is +inspiriting, for a little while. Before supper, we had been down to the +platform, over the sea. All was indistinct and vast; the comet high, but +no moon; calm. Heard the falling of the tide—monotonous, not +grand—cannon all around and sentinels; some old seamen. + +“Oct. 11.—Cloudy, with silver gleams. In the afternoon, sailed in the +packet for Ryde. The wind being contrary, though moderate, we were two +hours and a half on our passage; had a delightful sail, festooning among +all the fleet at Spithead. A passenger asked ‘What brig is that?’ as we +passed a man-of-war. A midshipman, who leaned over the side, made no +answer. ‘What brig is that, sir?’—‘The Rover.’ Every body admired this +vessel. Two ships of 100 guns, one of 74, and many of other degrees of +force. It was a grand and glorious sight, this anchored fleet, at +various distances on the gleaming waves, some in shadow, others upon +long lines of distant light, of coldest silver. Among other passengers +were two Missionaries going to Sierra Leone in the brig Minerva, +belonging to Mr. Macaulay: the eldest Wilhelm, a German, the younger a +Persian; modest, sedate, well-intentioned men; had some knowledge of +Greek; one of them was taking his wife with him. The captain of their +ship, on board, seemed to be a good sort of German. Another captain of a +trading ship was a passenger, Captain Reynolds, going to his ship, the +Crescent, bound for the Mediterranean: a plain, steady, grave seaman, of +the old stamp; good sense, with a pious tender heart. Said he had +carried, or that he was then about to carry, several hundred copies of +the New Testament in the modern Greek, to be distributed under the +direction of agents of the British and Foreign Bible Society. Captain +——, a Cornish man, going to his ship, the Commerce. These two captains +had met “on strands afar remote,” and now, by accident, on board this +packet. One of them accosted the other with an apology for some apparent +inattention at Malta, where they had last parted—his ship having been +“so far to leeward.” They talked of parts of Smyrna, Constantinople, and +other ports beyond the Straights, as familiarly as they could of London +or Bristol. Mr. W——, a London merchant, having a seat somewhere in the +west, a tall thin man, about sixty, with a florid face and white hair; +an unassuming well-bred man. The captain of the packet, formerly a +pilot, had a keen, steady, dark eye, with a brow low-bent, from +attention to distant objects, and a countenance quick and firm, that +seemed to say he was master of his business, and proud of it. + +“Landed at Ryde, after a fine sail, through a grand and interesting +scene. + +“Oct. 15.—After a foggy night, a clear and cloudless day, with the +warmth of June. At Steephill; saw the skirts of the fog clearing up the +steeps of Boniface, like a curtain, and the sea below brightening from +misty grey into it’s soft blue, and the whole horizon gradually +clearing, till all was cheerful warmth and sunshine, about ten o’clock. +About twelve, we set off to walk to the Signal-house, on the highest +steep of Boniface, not visible near the house, nor indeed till we had +gone a long way, being on the eastern side of the down. Followed the +steep Newport road, for a mile or two; looked down on the vast sea-line, +and on the huge promontories and broken rocks of the Undercliffe. Then, +leaving the road, turned into a field on the right, with heathy steeps +and downs, that would have been capped with clouds, had there been any. +The air keen, and the climate considerably different from that below. +The views astonishing and grand in a high degree. From these ridges we +looked down, on one side, over the whole interior of the island: but the +sublime view was that to the south; where, as we seemed perched on an +extreme point of the world, we looked immediately down on hills and +cliffs of various height and form, tumbled in confusion, as if by an +earthquake, and stretching into the sea, which spreads its vast +circumference beyond, and its various shades of blue. This soft blue, +thus spreading below us, was, in general, deeper than that of the +cloudless sky; and the sky itself was paler at the horizon than high +above, appearing there like the dawn of light, and deepening as the arch +ascended. This might be the effect of vapour, drawn up from the sea. +Found our way at length over nearly trackless furze and heath, to the +Signal-house, which looks down on the steeps of Boniface, and the rocks +of Bonchurch, and over to the sweep of Sandown Bay, then all over +Brading Harbour and the long coast of Sussex, which, in clear weather, +may be seen as far as Beachy Head. + +“In returning, we endeavoured to follow a path down the steeps near +Bonchurch, and to find some steps, cut in the precipice, by which to +descend. The look down upon the shores and sea tremendous—steeps below +steeps, to the surge beating and whitening below all. Followed, for +some time without dizziness, till we lost our little track, and saw +all around and beneath us scarcely any thing but pathless +descents—tremendous. From the fear of coming to some impracticable +steep in this wild descent and being unable to find the hewn steps, we +re-ascended to the Signal-house, and so returned home. The sea a +desert, except that a fine frigate sailed majestically at a distance, +and one brig was also in sight. + +“How sweet is the cadence of the distant surge! It seemed, as we sat in +our inn, as if a faint peal of far-off bells mingled with the sounds on +shore, sometimes heard, sometimes lost: the first note of the beginning, +and last of the falling peal, seeming always the most distinct. This +resounding of the distant surge on a rocky shore might have given +Shakspeare his idea when he makes Ferdinand, in the Tempest, hear, +amidst the storm, bells ringing his father’s dirge; a music which Ariel +also commemorates, together with the sea-wave:— + + ‘Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell, + Ding, dong, bell!’ + +“This chiming of the surge is when the tide is among the rocks, and the +wind, blowing from the sea, bears and softens all the different notes of +the waves to a distance, in one harmonious cadence; as in a concert, +your distance from the orchestra blends the different instruments into a +richer and softer harmony.” + +From several walks in the neighbourhood of Steephill, we select the +following:— + +“Passed Lord Dysart’s beautiful cottage. It stands at some distance from +the shore, and has several distinct roofs, well thatched: a large +conservatory stands on a winding lawn, with a fine beech grove and a +long and richly coloured copse, bending along down, and afterwards along +the feet of cliffs below. The crimson berries of the hawthorn gave +exquisite tints to this coppice, among the brown and various shades of +the autumnal woods, and appeared in abundance every where among the +trees and wild shrubs of the whole Undercliffe. The little church of St. +Lawrence, perhaps the smallest in England, stands on a knoll, and +terminates the cultivated valley; immediately beyond which, we entered +upon a scene of extreme wildness, grandeur and solitude. Many of the +ruinous precipices of the upper cliffs project in horizontal strata, yet +have perpendicular rents. Some of the shattered masses give most clear +echoes: we stood before one, which repeated every syllable of several +passages from the most sonorous languages, with an exactness of tone +that was truly astonishing. It seemed as if a living spirit was in the +rock, so near, so loud, and so exact! ‘Speak to it, Horatio!’ I could +have listened to it for hours. How solemn is the voice of cliffs and +seas! How great the style of Nature! how expressive! ‘Speak to the +rock!’ and again it gave every word, as if in sport or imitation, but +with truth itself. How long had it slumbered in silence? We returned by +the course we had come, the yellow sun lighting up seas and shores with +the warmth of May, and the birds singing every where. + +“Oct. 19.—Left Steephill. Sailed from Cowes in the Southampton packet, +about half past five; the Naiad frigate lying before the town. What +particularly struck me in the passage was, not only the sun actually +appearing to set in the sea, but the splendid amber light, left upon +that long level perspective of waters, and the vessels upon it at +various distances, seeming dark on this side, and marking out its extent +to the eye. The grace and majesty of an anchored ship, too, lying with +her stern to the eye, though at less distance, is indescribable; showing +all her shrouds and yards lessening, like a pyramid, as they rise upon +the light. How tranquil and grand the scene lay, beneath the gradually +deepening shade! Still the dark shores and stately vessels kept their +dignity upon the fading waters. How impressive the silence, and then how +according the solemn strain, that died upon the waves from unseen and +distant bugles, like a song of peace to the departing day! Another of +those measured portions that make up our span of life, was gone; every +one who gazed upon this scene, proud or humble, was a step nearer to the +grave—yet none seemed conscious of it. The scene itself, great, +benevolent, sublime—powerful, yet silent in its power—progressive and +certain in its end, steadfast and full of a sublime repose: the scene +itself spoke of its CREATOR.” + +In this year Mrs. Radcliffe visited Penshurst. From some very extensive +notes upon this ancient seat of the Sydneys, we extract the following:— + +“As we drew near, the woods began to thin; and an old latticed wooden +gate showed one entrance into a park, now in ruins, for the grass is +tall, scanty, and intermingled with taller fern. No deer appeared on the +rusty lawns, or under the scattered trees, or decaying groves, of this +once rich domain. Penshurst lies in a small valley of its own, that +hangs upon the ridge of hills which form the southern boundary of the +grand valley overlooked from Riverhill. All its heights are hung with +its own woods, which shut out every distant prospect from the house, +except from the turrets; and even from these, at least from the one I +climbed, the view is not extensive; but it is a pleasing scene, with +here and there an intermingled spire and ancient mansion. After +following for a considerable time the paling of this extensive park, an +elderly woman admitted us to it through the chief gate, and the ancient +mansion immediately appeared over a rough lawn, surrounded with groves. +The house is much in the style of Knole, but more irregular, and not of +half the size. It is of brick and rough stone, with now a tower, and now +a turret; high lozenge chimneys, an embattled wall, and, above all, the +long peaked roof of the great hall. In the court, over the arched +portal, is a row of five shields of the family arms, in stone. The great +hall is on the opposite side: it is grand, but gloomy, showing the dark +rafters of the roof; the tall, pointed windows below shed but a subdued +light on the pavement, which is of brick. The rafters have been +blackened by the fires of two centuries, lighted on the centre of the +pavement, where the bricks, raised half a foot, form a small octagon, on +which, perhaps, Sir Philip Sydney and the knights his companions have +often stood round the blazing fagots, piled upon the same iron dogs, of +enormous size, that still remain there. I think I see, in glimpses, the +strong blaze of the wood flashing on their visages. The armour of Sir +Philip himself, with helm (the vizor closed), stands at the back of an +obscure gallery, and close beneath a high window, whose small frames +admit a blunted, melancholy light. It stands like a spectre in arms, +watching over the scene it once inhabited; and is admirably placed to +touch the imagination, but not to gratify curiosity, its distance being +considerable. A partial light, thrown more strongly on the head, would +give it very fine effect. It is best seen from one of the doors, that +open from the raised step at the upper end of the hall, where the high +table stood. + +“The hall being so lofty as to seem shorter than it should be, and than +it really is, one of the late owners, to remedy this defect, had a +painted perspective placed at one end—a most unsuitable expedient in so +great and simple a scene; but the drawings of knights in armour, larger +than life, between the windows, are well done. Several very rudely +carved wooden images, now whitened and probably brought from some other +part of the house, are placed in front of the gallery, as if looking +over the railing. + +“Mrs. Perry, the grandmother of the present Mr. Sydney, who changed his +name from Shelley, was a niece of Sydney, Earl of Leicester, and +co-heiress with her sister, Lady Howard, of the Penshurst estates. The +old housekeeper, who attended us, lamented much that Mr. Sydney did not +now live here, but hoped to see him return. She had been all her life on +the spot, and told us what fine times she remembered when _Lady_ Perry +used to drive to the gate in a coach and six, and come down with such ‘a +sight of servants.’ All the tenants used to come to meet her, and ‘_we +girls_’ (the speaker was a grandmother) used to stand all in a row to +meet her. Such noble liveries! and then the poor woman shook her head, +and bustled about, with emotion. The bells were a ringing all day, and +there were such goings on. ‘Was she _Lady_ Perry?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ rather +sharply, as if astonished that we could doubt it. ‘Was she a _Lady_ by +birth?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ more sharply, ‘she _was_ a Lady indeed.’ She led us +down a modernized winding staircase into a small hall in the chief part +of the mansion, opening into the garden. We passed a fine Gothic window, +that gives light to it, having painted shields of arms; among them Queen +Elizabeth’s. From the great dining-parlour, a staircase leads past many +rooms lined with oak panels, worm-eaten; among them the nursery, which +the housekeeper pointed out, with a strong regret of _old times_—not +those of Sir Philip Sydney, but of Lady Perry. And there were the +children’s playthings; there they were all—with some sighs. As I +humoured her, she began, in the midst of her regrets, to apologize for +her dress, and to lament that she had not had time to appear better. ‘Do +the stairs near the nursery lead to the top of the turret?’—‘I don’t +know, ma’am, but I’ll see.’ I followed to the small platform, and looked +over the battlements upon the wood and the valley. The view was +pleasing, but not impressive, or extensive. + +“She led us through the great hall, to see the kitchen; one suitable to +such a hall, with a lofty, raftered roof, enormous chimney, and long old +tables of oak, not nearly so thick as those in the hall at Coventry. +Here the good woman was at the climax of her regrets, and she shook her +head and sighed often. ‘It is a dismal place now, and what do I remember +it in _Lady_ Perry’s time! I remember, when all them hooks,’ pointing to +rows of them that run, at a great height, over the wide and lofty +chimney piece and round the roof, ‘were hung with sides of bacon; ay, I +ha’ seen them all hung with bacon. And here was such a sight of servants +running about, some one way, some another.’ She then reverted to Lady +P.’s coach and six, and the rejoicings that were to take place when she +came down, and ‘_we girls_ used to stand all in a row.’ In short, one +would have thought that nobody had ever lived in this mansion but Lady +Perry. As to Sir Philip and the rest of the Sydneys, they were never +thought of when she spoke of _old times_—a neglect which at first +somewhat embarrassed me, who thought of them and old times as +inseparable. She took us into a smaller kitchen, to show us the stoves +and the iron plates, on which, in her old times, teacakes and crumpets +were baked, and related, with pride, that she used to assist in turning +them.” + +In October 1812, Mrs. Radcliffe visited Malvern. The following is her +note of her walk to the summit of the hills:— + +“Oct. 21, 1812.—Having slept at the Foley Arms hotel, an excellent inn, +delightfully situated, we walked out, about eleven, hoping to reach the +highest point of the Malvern Hills. By the zigzag turf-path, we reached +the little Well-house, where we came upon the wild turf, and began to +ascend the higher steeps of a mountain. The hoary crags, in vast masses, +looked out from among the brown and red tints of the autumnal fern, and +from the green earth, but the crags ceased below the summits, which were +smooth and still green. Our view here commanded the vast expanse to the +eastward, which we had seen from the inn; but we now saw over the broad +Breedon hill, which there bounded the horizon in one direction; and many +lines were now visible beyond it. This view is great and comprehensive, +but not sublime; the elevation reducing the importance of other heights, +so that no single object remains sufficiently striking, either in form +or character, to arrest attention, and break the uniform harmony of that +rich and woody scene, the vale of the Severn, whose waters were visible +only here and there, in little glimmering threads of light. At the +summit, we could just discern them near Bristol, rolling in greater +breadth. From the Well-house, we soon reached a good winding path, cut +in the turf, which led us round one mountain, overlooking other craggy +or green steeps of Malvern, till we caught a first glimpse of +Herefordshire and of the hills of South Wales, over the ridge, to the +west. They were more distant, and less broken and individual, than I had +hoped, but grand notwithstanding. Having, at length, turned into a sort +of intrenchment, which runs up to the summit, and divides Worcestershire +and Herefordshire, we walked in this securely, and with some little +shelter from the winds, till we reached the highest point of Malvern, +and beheld a vast horizon circling at our feet. Thirteen counties are +said to be visible from this summit, which overlooks the other heights +of Malvern. It is indeed a defect in the scene, that there are no other +supereminent heights, except those which are too distant to have a fully +impressive effect. Even Breedon hill, that broad feature in the vale of +the Severn, was here too much lowered. Towns and villages were often +distinguishable chiefly by the wreaths of smoke that spread from them +along the vale, but sometimes by the broad tower of a church. On a more +intent view, white mansions and woody parks would frequently appear; and +rich meadows, hedge-rows and groves filled the vale, ascended to the +hills of other counties, and often spread over their summits too. Few of +the mountains of South Wales were sharp, or very bold, at this distance. +On this side of them, the square mass of the tower of Hereford Cathedral +was perceivable; and, far more southward, the high, level downs of +Clifton. Bristol itself is sometimes seen hence. The broad Gloucester +hills—the Cotswolds—and the city of Gloucester, with its noble +cathedral, are in the nearer vale. From this spot, we could distinguish, +merely by turning round, three great cities, with their +cathedrals—Gloucester, Worcester, and Hereford, to say nothing of the +fine abbey-church of Tewksbury. The tower of Malvern church, once a +priory-church, is also a venerable feature in the scene. One of the most +striking circumstances was the vast sweep of shadows and lights thrown +from the clouds over this great prospect. The mottled expanse of moving +lights over the surface of the wide vale sometimes resembled the billows +of a sea, on which you look down from some lofty cliff. The lights +brought out the villages and mansions on the knolls of Herefordshire +surprisingly; and many are most charmingly seated.” + +Mrs. Radcliffe was particularly interested by Kenilworth Castle, and +spent much time in exploring its history after she had visited its +ruins. The subject struck her imagination; and in the winter of 1802, +she wrote the tale of Gaston de Blondeville, now for the first time +given to the world. After this, she undertook no work of magnitude, but +occasionally employed her leisure in composing poems, from which a +selection has been made for these volumes. In Romance, she probably felt +that she had done enough; and, feeling it impossible to surpass her +“Mysteries of Udolpho” and her “Italian,” declined again to subject +herself to criticism by publication. Though gratified by a sense of the +enjoyment she had provided for multitudes, and justly proud of the +honest and blameless means by which it was produced, she rarely alluded +to her novels. At first, the sums she received, though not necessary, +were welcome; but, as her pecuniary resources became more ample, she was +without sufficient excitement to begin on an extended romance, though, +had the first effort been made, the pursuit must have been delightful. +Even Gaston de Blondeville was not intended for the press, and, having +amused herself and her husband, was laid aside, so disinclined had she +become to publication. + +It is curious that several years after this tale was written, Mrs. +Radcliffe, having forgotten many of the incidents, perused it with +nearly the same interest as if it had been the production of a stranger. +It was again laid aside; and in the latter part of life she repeated the +experiment, but it did not absorb her attention as before, the former +perusal having stamped the contents on her memory. + +Secluded as Mrs. Radcliffe was from the world, she was tremblingly alive +to every circumstance which could, by the remotest possibility, raise an +inference injurious to the personal character she valued far above +literary fame; and, as nothing could induce her to appear before the +public in any sort of contention, every thing of this nature preyed long +upon her mind. She was much affected by a passage of Miss Seward’s +correspondence, which seemed, to her apprehensive feelings, to convey an +imputation that she had allowed the dramas afterwards avowed by Miss +Baillie to be attributed to her pen. Miss Seward in one of her letters +dated May 21, 1799, after mentioning the plays, gave the following +quotation from a letter of “her literary friend and correspondent Mrs. +Jackson”—“Before their author was known, I observed so much of the power +and defects of Mrs. Radcliffe’s compositions in these dramas, as to +believe them hers, and I hear she owns them. Mrs. Radcliffe, in whatever +she writes, attentive solely to the end, is not sufficiently attentive +to observe probability in the means she uses to attain it. She bends her +plan—or, if it will not bend, she breaks it, to her catastrophe, by +making it grow out of the preceding events. Still she always takes hold +of the reader’s feelings, and effects her purpose boldly if not +regularly. Her descriptive talent, used to satiety in her novels, is +here employed with more temperance, and consequently to better purpose.” + +The imputation thus conveyed was, perhaps, implicitly removed by two +letters of a few months later date; in one of which Miss Seward, +speaking of the Plays on the Passions, says, “My literary friends now +assert that they are not Mrs. Radcliffe’s;” and in the other, “The +literary world now asserts, that the Plays on the Passions are not Mrs. +Radcliffe’s;” for, if Mrs. Radcliffe had really owned them, it is +scarcely probable the literary world could so soon have discredited her +acknowledgment, while the real author remained unknown. This implied +vindication from a charge, which perhaps no one ever regarded, was not +sufficient for Mrs. Radcliffe’s delicate sense of propriety and honour. +She made inquiries after Mrs. Jackson, the lady mentioned as Miss +Seward’s informant, in order that she might trace out the origin of her +rumour. Having learned that Mrs. Jackson, after residing at Bath, had +removed to Edinburgh, she requested Mr. Davies, of the firm of Cadell +and Davies, who had ample opportunities of procuring information +respecting the literary society of Edinburgh, to ascertain if Mrs. +Jackson was still in that city. In the result of these inquiries it +appeared, that the lady, to whom the report was ascribed, had left +Edinburgh; that her residence was unknown; and that she was not even +supposed to be living. Under these circumstances, Mrs. Radcliffe was +obliged to leave her vindication (as, in truth, she safely might) to the +tenor of her whole literary course; for no one ever felt, or expressed, +more repugnance to factitious praise, or more strenuously declined to +avail herself of the warmth of private regard in softening the rigour of +criticism. The prayer of the poet, “O grant an honest fame, or grant me +none!” was the language of all her actions. She even took pains to +prevent some, who, she knew, were desirous of expressing their sense of +her genius, from writing eulogies on her works, as she could not endure +the conscious degradation of being exalted even by the genial quackery +of friendship. It is scarcely necessary now to assert, that the +supposition of her having laid claim to the authorship of the Plays on +the Passions, or voluntarily endured the ascription of those powerful +compositions to her pen, was utterly groundless. Rich as these works are +in passion, and richer in fancy, they could not tempt the author of the +Mysteries of Udolpho, even if she had not been restrained by any higher +feeling than pride, to claim them—not because they would have been +unworthy of her, if she had written them, but because the secret sense +of merited reputation must alone have created a distaste for eulogies +which she did not deserve. Anxious as Mrs. Radcliffe was to repel the +suggestion, she felt that, as she could not discover its author, it +would not become her to intrude on Miss Baillie a denial of the report, +which she had not sanctioned; and the same susceptible delicacy, which +made her feel it so deeply, compelled her to bear it in silence. The +subject, which was always painful to her, is rather now alluded to as an +instance of the singular apprehensiveness of her moral sense, than as at +all required for the vindication of her character. + +Another circumstance, of a more trivial nature, gave her uneasiness, +though in a less degree. In one of the published letters of the late +Mrs. Carter, was a passage of a eulogistic nature, alluding to her +works; and to this a note was appended by the editor, showing that “Mrs. +Carter had no personal acquaintance with Mrs. Radcliffe.” This statement +was literally true; but to her sensitive nature it seemed to bear the +construction, that the excellent lady referred to would have avoided her +acquaintance. The fact, indeed, was exactly the reverse; for, in the +spring of 1799, Mrs. Carter sent to Mrs. Radcliffe a letter of +introduction from a lady of high respectability at Bath, and proposed by +note to wait on her on the following day; but Mrs. Radcliffe, being +engaged to leave town in the morning with her husband, whose health +required country air, was obliged respectfully to decline the intended +honour. The correspondence appeared in the Annual Biography for 1824, +with a short Memoir of Mrs. Radcliffe; and produced from Dr. Pennington, +the writer of the note, a most handsome letter, in which he earnestly +disclaimed even the slightest idea of disrespect to Mrs. Radcliffe, +stating that he was not aware of the little correspondence, or he would +have mentioned it with pleasure. Dr. Pennington also avows, not merely +with candour, but cordially, the admiration and personal respect, with +which Mrs. Carter thought and spoke of Mrs. Radcliffe. + +With more reason, Mrs. Radcliffe was amazed at an absurd report, that, +haunted by the images of fear, with which she had thrilled her readers, +she had sunk into a state of mental alienation. A more unphilosophical +foundation for an untruth was never imagined; for it is obvious, that +through all her works she holds entire mastery over the terrors which +she employs, and even sedulously prepares the means of explaining them +by natural causes. It seems, however, that the authoress of a Tour +through England, in noticing the Duke of Rutland’s venerable and +romantic seat, called Haddon House, asserted that it was there that Mrs. +Radcliffe acquired her taste for castles and ancient buildings, and +proceeded to lament that she had, for many years, fallen into a state of +insanity, and was under confinement in Derbyshire:—the fact being, not +only that the main assertion was false, but that all its accompaniments +were destitute of foundation;—for Mrs. Radcliffe was only in Derbyshire +on two occasions, for a few days each, after her marriage, and never saw +Haddon House at all. This report, the falsehood of which might have been +ascertained by the authoress, on a reference to her own publisher, was +copied in a larger work of more recent date; and to complete the +fiction, a plate and description of Haddon House, as the scene of Mrs. +Radcliffe’s early impressions, were annexed by way of illustration. It +also supplied materials for poetry; as in an “Ode to Terror,” with other +effusions, published by a clergyman in 1810, Mrs. Radcliffe is bemoaned, +as having died in that species of mental derangement called “the +horrors.” Some of these rumours reached her; but she could not endure +the thought of writing in the newspapers that she was not insane; and, +at last, learned to smile at the pity of those, who thought her in +confinement, and the charity of others, who had kindly permitted her to +find a release in death from her supposed intellectual sufferings. + +While the fate of the authoress of Udolpho was thus considered by the +world as sealed, she was enjoying her wonted recreations and studies, +with entire relish. As, however, curiosity was satiated with exploring +all the finest country within 100 miles of London, and she became more +attached to the comforts of home, she contracted the sphere of her +excursions. Instead of making journeys of length, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe +hired a carriage for the summer months, in which they were accustomed to +make frequent trips to beautiful spots in the neighbourhood of London, +where they dined and spent the day at some good inn, and returned in the +evening. Esher, Stanmore, Richmond, Southgate, and Harrow, were their +favourite places of resort, especially the latter, where they chose the +room, not the largest, but which commands the richest prospect, and +where Crawley Wood, near Ashridge, could be often distinctly seen. Mrs. +Radcliffe also was much attached to St. Alban’s, the antiquities of +which she explored with unwearied zeal, and the historical dignity of +which she has vindicated in her longest poem. From 1812 to 1815 +inclusive, she passed much time at Windsor and its neighbourhood, and +formed an intimate acquaintance with all the recesses of its forest. + + “She knew each lane, and every alley green, + Dingle or bushy dell of those old woods, + And every bosky bower from side to side.” + +She often vividly described the beautiful spots of this regal domain. +There was scarcely a tree of importance, with the peculiar form of which +she was not familiar, and the varieties of whose aspect in light and +shade she could not picture in words. With reference to their age and to +the analogy she fancied to the lines of monarchs, with which they might +be coeval, she described the trees separately as Plantagenet oaks, Tudor +beeches, or Stuart elms. At this time, she expressed her feelings in +verse, rather than in prose, and the reader will find them chronicled in +several of her poems. One night-scene on the terrace, however, deserves +to be inserted; and may be compared with the descriptions of castellated +heights, which abound in her novels. + +“We stood in the shade on the north terrace, where a platform projects +over the precipice, and beheld a picture perfect in its kind. The massy +tower at the end of the east terrace stood up high in shade; but +immediately from behind it the moonlight spread, and showed the flat +line of wall at the end of that terrace, with the figure of a sentinel +moving against the light, as well as a profile of the dark precipice +below. Beyond it, was the park and a vast distance, in the faint light, +which spread over the turf, touched the avenues, and gave fine contrast +to the deep shades of the wooded precipice, on which we stood, and to +the whole line of buildings, which rise on the north terrace. Above this +high dark line the stars appeared with a very sublime effect. No sound +but the faint clinking of the soldier’s accoutrements, as he paced on +watch, and the remote voices of people turning the end of the east +terrace, appearing for a moment in the light there and vanishing. In a +high window of the tower a light. Why is it so sublime to stand at the +foot of a dark tower, and look up its height to the sky and the stars? + +“What particularly strikes at Windsor is the length of terrace in the +east, thus seen by moonlight; the massy towers, four in perspective; the +lights and shades of the park below, the obscure distance beyond them, +the low and wide horizon, which you seem to look upon, the grandeur of +the heavenly arch, which appears to spring from it, and the multitude of +stars, which are visible in so vast and uninterrupted a view. Then the +north terrace stretching and finally turning away from them towards the +west, where high dark towers crown it. It was on this terrace, surely, +that Shakspeare received the first hint of the time for the appearance +of his ghost.— + + ‘Last night of all, + When yon same star that westward from the Pole + Had made his course to illume that part of heaven + Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, + The bell then beating one——’” + +From inclination, Mrs. Radcliffe was minutely attentive to her household +affairs, probably thinking with Schiller, that, after all, one of the +best enjoyments of life arises from the exact performance of some +mechanical duty. Although by no means disposed to parsimony, she kept an +exact account of daily disbursements, until a very short time before her +death. Much of her leisure was spent in reading the literary productions +of the day, especially poetry and novels. Of the latter works she always +spoke with an entire freedom from jealousy, and devoured the earlier +Scotch novels with all the avidity of youth, although she felt deeply a +slighting expression in “Waverley,” towards herself, which the author +might have spared. Sir Walter Scott has, however, made ample amends to +her reputation by his elaborate criticism prefixed to Ballantine’s +edition of her romances. To music she was passionately attached, and +sang herself with exquisite taste, though her voice, remarkably sweet, +was limited in compass. At the Opera she was a frequent visitor, and on +her return home would sit up singing over the airs she had heard, which +her quickness of ear enabled her to catch, till a late hour. She was +peculiarly affected by sacred music, and occasionally went to the +oratorios, when they afforded her the opportunity of listening to the +compositions of Handel. She sometimes, though more rarely, accompanied +Mr. Radcliffe to the theatres; and was a warm admirer of Mrs. Siddons, +whom she recollected at Bath, when herself was young. She used to speak +with much pleasure of having seen this great actress, before the +commencement of her splendid career in London, going to Church with her +little son Henry, and was struck by her exceeding dignity and grace. +When she visited the theatre, Mrs. Radcliffe generally sat in the pit, +partly because her health required warm clothing, and partly because, in +that situation, she felt more withdrawn from the observation she +disliked. She was fond of listening to any good verbal sounds, and would +often desire to hear passages from the Latin and Greek classics, +requiring at intervals the most literal translations, that could be +given, however much the version might lose in elegance by the exactness. + +During the last twelve years of her life, Mrs. Radcliffe suffered at +intervals from a spasmodic asthma, which occasioned a general loss of +health, and called for the unwearied attentions of her affectionate +husband. In the hope of obtaining relief, she visited Ramsgate in the +autumn of 1822, and, deriving benefit from the air, recurred to her old +habit of noting down her impressions of scenery. The following is the +last she ever wrote. + +“Ramsgate, Saturday morning, Oct. 19, 1822.—Stormy day, rain without +sun, except that early a narrow line of palest silver fell on the +horizon, showing, here and there, distant vessels on their course. Ships +riding in the Downs, exactly on the sea-line, over the entrance into the +harbour, opposite to our windows, were but dim and almost shapeless +hints of what they were. Many vessels, with sails set, making for the +port; pilot-boats rowed out of the harbour to meet them; the tide +rolling in, leaving the foaming waves at its entrance, where vessels of +all kinds, from ships to fishing-boats, appeared in succession, at short +intervals, dashing down among the foam, and rushing into the harbour. +The little black boats around them often sunk so low in the surge, as to +be invisible for a moment. This expansive harbour, encircled by the +noble piers, might be considered as a grand theatre, of which the +entrance and the sea beyond were the stage, the two pier-heads the +portals, the plain of the harbour the pit, and the houses at the end of +it the front boxes. This harbour was not now, as some hours since, +flooded with a silver light, but grey and dull, in quiet contrast with +the foaming waves at its entrance. The horizon thickened, and the scene +around seemed to close in; but the vessels, as they approached, though +darker, became more visible and distinct, the sails half-set, some +nearly whole set. They all kept away a little to the westward of the +west pier, the wind south-west, then changed their course, and dashed +round the light-house pier-head, tossing the foam high about them, some +pitching head foremost, as if going to the bottom, and then rolling +helplessly, and reeling in, settled in still waters. A lofty tide.” + +Although the health of Mrs. Radcliffe was improved by this excursion, +she was much affected by the severe cold in the beginning of the ensuing +winter. On the ninth of January, 1823, another attack of her disease +commenced, which ultimately proved fatal. At first it appeared less +serious than some of her previous seizures; but it soon became alarming. +On the eleventh of January, Dr. Scudamore, to whose care she had +formerly been indebted, was called in, and did every thing for her that +skill and tenderness could suggest; but in vain. A few days before her +death, an account, which she had accidentally read, of a shocking murder +recently perpetrated, pressed on her memory, and joined with the natural +operation of the disease to produce a temporary delirium. From this, +however, she completely recovered, and remained sensible to the last. On +the sixth of February, she did not appear to be in any immediate danger, +though in a state of great weakness. At twelve at night, Mr. Radcliffe +assisted in giving her some refreshment, which she took with apparent +satisfaction, her last words being, “There is some substance in that.” +She then fell into a slumber; but, when Mr. Radcliffe, who had been +sitting up in the next room, re-entered her apartment, in the course of +an hour or two, she was breathing rather hardly, and neither he nor the +nurse was able to awake her. Dr. Scudamore was instantly sent for; but, +before his arrival, she tranquilly expired, at between two and three +o’clock in the morning of the seventh of February, 1823, being in the +59th year of her age. Her countenance after death was delightfully +placid, and continued so for some days. Her remains were interred in a +vault in the Chapel of Ease, at Bayswater, belonging to St. George’s, +Hanover Square. + +As, since Mrs. Radcliffe’s death, the story of her mental alienation has +been revived, in reference to her later days, it has been deemed right +to apply to Dr. Scudamore for an authentic statement, which he has +kindly given, and which must set such idle reports entirely at rest. It +is as follows: + +“Mrs. Radcliffe had been for several years subject to severe catarrhal +coughs, and also was occasionally afflicted with asthma. + +“In March 1822, she was ill with inflammation of the lungs, and for a +considerable time remained much indisposed. With the summer season and +change of air, she regained a tolerable state of health. + +“In the early part of January 1823, in consequence of exposure to cold, +she was again attacked with inflammation of the lungs, and much more +severely than before. Active treatment was immediately adopted, but +without the desired relief; and the symptoms soon assumed a most +dangerous character. At the end of three weeks, however, and contrary to +all expectation, the inflammation of the lungs was overcome; and the +amendment was so decided, as to present a slight prospect of recovery. + +“Alas! our hopes were soon disappointed. Suddenly, in the very moment of +seeming calm from the previous violence of disease, a new inflammation +seized the membranes of the brain. The enfeebled frame could not resist +this fresh assault: so rapid in their course were the violent symptoms, +that medical treatment proved wholly unavailing. + +“In the space of three days, death closed the melancholy scene. + +“In this manner, at the age of fifty-nine, society was deprived of a +most amiable and valuable member, and literature of one of its brightest +ornaments. + +“The foregoing statement will, I hope, afford all the explanation, which +can be required, of the nature of Mrs. Radcliffe’s illness. During the +whole continuance of the inflammation of the lungs, the mind was perfect +in its reasoning powers, and became disturbed only on the last two or +three days, as a natural consequence of the inflammation affecting the +membranes of the brain. + +“Previously to the last illness, and at all times, Mrs. Radcliffe +enjoyed a remarkably cheerful state of mind; and no one was farther +removed from “mental desolation,” as has been so improperly described of +the latter part of her life. + +“She possessed a quick sensibility, as the necessary ally of her fine +genius; but this quality would serve to increase the warmth of the +social feelings, and effectually prevent the insulation of the mind, +either as regards the temper or the understanding.” + +Mrs. Radcliffe was, in her youth, exquisitely proportioned, though she +resembled her father, and his brother and sister, in being low of +stature. Her complexion was beautiful, as was her whole countenance, +especially her eyes, eyebrows, and mouth. She was educated in the +principles of the Church of England; and through life, unless prevented +by serious indisposition, regularly attended its services. Her piety, +though cheerful, was deep and sincere. Although perfectly well bred, and +endowed with faculties and tastes which rendered her a delightful +companion, she wanted that confidence which is necessary to mixed +society, and which she could scarcely acquire, without losing something +of the delicacy of feeling, which marked her character. If, in her +retirement, she was sometimes affected by circumstances which would have +passed unheeded amidst the bustle of the world, she was more than repaid +by the enjoyments, which were fostered in the shade; and perhaps few +distinguished authors have passed a life so blameless and so happy. + +Mrs. Radcliffe may fairly be considered as the inventor of a new style +of romance; equally distinct from the old tales of chivalry and magic, +and from modern representations of credible incidents and living +manners. Her works partially exhibit the charms of each species of +composition; interweaving the miraculous with the probable, in +consistent narrative, and breathing of tenderness and beauty peculiarly +her own. The poetical marvels of the first fill the imagination, but +take no hold on the sympathies, to which they have become alien: the +vicissitudes of the last awaken our curiosity, without transporting us +beyond the sphere of ordinary life. But it was reserved for Mrs. +Radcliffe to infuse the wondrous in the credible; to animate rich +description with stirring adventure; and to impart a portion of human +interest to the progress of romantic fiction. She occupied that middle +region between the mighty dreams of the heroic ages and the realities of +our own, which remained to be possessed; filled it with goodly imagery; +and made it resonant with awful voices. Her works, in order to produce +their greatest impression, should be read first, not in childhood, for +which they are too substantial; nor at mature age, for which they may +seem too visionary; but at that delightful period of youth, when the +soft twilight of the imagination harmonizes with the luxurious and +uncertain light cast on their wonders. By those, who come at such an age +to their perusal, they will never be forgotten. + +The principal means, which Mrs. Radcliffe employed to raise up her +enchantments on the borders of truth, are, first, her faculty of +awakening emotions allied to superstitious fear; and, secondly, her +skill in selecting and describing scenes and figures precisely adapted +to the feelings she sought to enkindle. We will examine each of these +powers, and then shortly advert to their developement in her successive +romances. + +I. The art, by which supernatural agency is insinuated, derives its +potency from its singular application to human nature, in its extremes +of weakness and strength. Simply considered, fear is the basest of +emotions, and the least adapted to the dignity of romance; yet it is +that, of which the most heroic heart sometimes whispers a confession. On +the other hand, every thing, which tends to elevate and ennoble our +feelings, to give the character of permanency to our impressions, and +impart a tongue to the silence of nature, has reference to things +unseen. The tremblings of the spirit, which are base when prompted by +any thing earthly, become sublime when inspired by a sense of the +visionary and immortal. They are the secret witnesses of our alliance +with power, which is not of this world. We feel both our fleshly +infirmity and our high destiny, as we shrink on the borders of spiritual +existence. Whilst we listen for echoes from beyond the grave, and search +with tremulous eagerness for indications of the unearthly, our Curiosity +and Fear assume the grandeur of passions. We might well doubt our own +immortality, if we felt no restless desire to forestal the knowledge of +its great secret, and held no obstinate questionings with the sepulchre. +We were not of heavenly origin, if we did not struggle after a communion +with the invisible; nor of human flesh, if we did not shudder at our own +daring;—and it is in the union of this just audacity and venial terror, +that we are strangely awed and affected. It is, therefore, needless to +justify the use of the supernatural in fiction; for it is peculiarly +adapted to the workings of the imagination—that power, whose high +province is to mediate between the world without us and the world within +us; on the one hand to impart sentiment and passion to the external +universe, and make it redolent of noble associations; and, on the other, +to clothe the affections of the heart and the high suggestions of the +reason with colour and shape, and present them to the mind in living and +substantial forms. + +There are various modes, in which the supernatural may be employed, +requiring more or less of a dextrous sympathy, in proportion to the +depth and seriousness of the feeling, which the author proposes to +awaken. In cases where the appeal is only made to the fancy, it is +sufficient if the pictures are consistent with themselves, without any +reference to the prejudices, or passions, of those, before whom they are +presented. To this class the fables of the Greek mythology belong, +notwithstanding their infinite varieties of grandeur and beauty. They +are too bright and palpable to produce emotions of awe, even among +those, who professed to believe them; and rather tended to inclose the +sphere of mortal vision, which they adorned and gladdened, with more +definite boundaries, than to intimate the obscure and eternal. Instead +of wearing, then, the solemn aspect of antiquity, they seem, even now, +touched with the bloom of an imperishable youth. The gorgeous Oriental +fictions and modern tales of fairy lore are also merely fantastical, and +advance no claim on faith, or feeling. Their authors escape from the +laws of matter, without deriving any power from the functions of spirit; +they are rather without than above nature, and seek only an excuse in +the name of the supernatural for their graceful vagaries. Akin +essentially to these are mere tales of terror, in which horrors are +accumulated on horrors. Beyond the precincts of the nursery, they are +nothing but a succession of scenic representations—a finely coloured +phantasmagoria, which may strike the fancy, but do not chill the blood, +and soon weary the spectator. It is only the “eye of childhood” which +“fears a painted devil.” In some of the wild German tales, indeed, there +is, occasionally, a forcible exaggeration of truth, which strikes for a +moment, and seems to give back the memory of a forgotten dream. But none +of these works, whatever poetical merit they may possess, have the power +to fascinate and appal, by touching those secret strings of mortal +apprehension, which connect our earthly with our spiritual being. + +In these later days, it, no doubt, requires a fine knowledge of the +human heart to employ the supernatural, so as to move the pulses of +terror. Of all superstitions, the most touching are those, which relate +to the appearance of the dead among the living; not only on account of +the reality which they derive from mingling with the ordinary business +of life, but of the cold and shuddering sympathy we feel for a being +like to whom we may ourselves become in a few short years. To bring such +a vision palpably on the scene is always a bold experiment, and usually +requires a long note of preparation, and a train of circumstances, which +may gradually and insensibly dispose the mind to implicit credence. Yet +to dispense with all such appliances, and to call forth the grandest +spirit, that ever glided from the tomb, was not beyond Shakspeare’s +skill. A few short sentences only prepare the way for the ghost of the +murdered King of Denmark; the spirit enters, and we feel at once he is +no creature of time; he speaks, and his language is “of Tartarus, and +the souls in bale.” Such mighty magic as this, however, belonged only to +the first of poets. Writers who, in modern times, have succeeded in +infusing into the mind thoughts of unearthly fear, have usually taken +one of these two courses: either they have associated their +superstitions with the solemnities of nature, and contrived to +interweave them in the very texture of life, without making themselves +responsible for the feelings they excite: or they have, by mysterious +hints and skilful contrivances, excited the curiosity and terror of +their readers, till they have prepared them either to believe in any +wonder they may produce, or to image for themselves in the obscurity +fearful shapes, and to feel the presence of invisible horrors. + +Those, who seek to create a species of supernatural interest by the +first of these processes, find abundant materials adapted to their use +in the noblest parts of our own intellectual history. There are doubtful +phenomena within the experience of all reflecting minds, which may +scarcely be referred to their mere mortal nature, and which sometimes +force on the coldest sceptic a conviction, that he is “fearfully” as +well as “wonderfully made.” Golden dreams hover over our cradle, and +shadows thicken round the natural descent of the aged into the grave. +Few there are, who, in childhood, have not experienced some strange +visitings of serious thought, gently agitating the soul like the wind +“that bloweth where it listeth,” suggesting to it holy fancies, and +awakening its first sympathy with a world of sorrow and of tears. Who +has not felt, or believed that he has felt, a sure presentiment of +approaching evil? Who, at some trivial occurrence, “striking the +electric chord by which we are darkly bound,” has not been startled by +the sudden revival of old images and feelings, long buried in the depth +of years, which stalk before him like the spectres of departed +companions? Who has not shrunk from the fascination of guilty thoughts, +as from “supernatural soliciting?” Where is the man so basely moulded, +that he does not remember moments of inspiration, when statelier images +than his common intellect can embody, hopes and assurances brighter than +his constitutional temperament, may recal, and higher faculties within +himself than he has ever been able to use, have stood revealed to him +like mountain-tops at the utmost reach of vision, touched by a gleam of +the morning sun? And who, in the melancholy calm of the mind, sadly +looking into its depths, has not perceived the gigantic wrecks of a +nobler nature, as the fortunate voyager on some crystal lake has +discerned, or fancied he discerned, the wave-worn towers of a forgotten +city far in the deep waters? There are magic threads in the web of life, +which a writer of romance has only to bring out and to touch with +appropriate hues of fancy. From the secret places of the soul are voices +more solemn than from old superstitions, to which he may bid us hearken. +In his works, prophecies may be fulfilled; presentiments justified; the +history of manhood may answer to the dreams of the nursery; and he may +leave his readers to assert if they can, “These have their causes; they +are natural.” Let him only give due effect to the problem, and he may +safely trust their hearts to supply the answer! + +The other mode of exciting terror requires, perhaps, greater delicacy +and skill, as the author purposes to influence the mind directly from +without, instead of leaving it, after receiving a certain clue, to its +own workings. In this style, up to the point where Mrs. Radcliffe +chooses to pause and explain, she has no rival. She knows the string of +feeling she must touch, and exactly proportions her means to her design. +She invariably succeeds not by the quantity but the quality of her +terrors. Instead of exhibiting a succession of magnificent glooms, which +only darken the imagination, she whispers some mysterious suggestion to +the soul, and exhibits only just enough of her picture to prolong the +throbbings she has excited. In nothing is her supremacy so clearly +shown, as in the wise and daring economy, with which she has employed +the instruments of fear. A low groan issuing from distant vaults; a +voice heard among an assembly from an unknown speaker; a little track of +blood seen by the uncertain light of a lamp on a castle staircase; a +wild strain of music floating over moonlight woods; as introduced by +her, affect the mind more deeply than terrible incantations, or +accumulated butcheries. “Pluck out the heart of her mystery!”—tell, at +once, the secret, the lightest hint of which appals—verify the worst +apprehensions of the reader; and what would be the reality in common +hands? You can suspect nothing more than a cruel murder perpetrated many +years ago by an unprincipled monk, or an avowed robber! Why should we +suffer all the stings of curiosity on such an issue? Human life is not +held so precious, murder is not so strange and rare an occurrence, that +we should be greatly agitated by the question whether, two centuries +ago, a bandit destroyed one of his captives; but the skill of the +writer, applying itself justly to the pulses of terror in our +intellectual being, gives tragic interest to the inquiry, makes the +rusted dagger terrible, and the spot of blood sublime. This faculty is +the more remarkable, as it is employed to raise a single crime into +importance; while others of equal dye are casually alluded to, and +dismissed, as deeds of little note, and make no impression on the +reader. Assassins who murder for hire, commonly excite no feeling in +romance, except as mere instruments, like the weapons they use; but, +when Mrs. Radcliffe chooses to single out one of these from the mass, +though undistinguished by peculiar characteristics, she rivets our +attention to Spalatro, as by an irresistible spell; forces us to watch +every movement of his haggard countenance, and makes the low sound of +his stealthy footsteps sink into the soul. Her faculty, therefore, which +has been represented as melo-dramatic, is akin to the very essence of +tragic power, which is felt not merely in the greatness of the actions, +or sorrows, which it exhibits, but in its nice application to the inmost +sources of terror and of pity. + +It is extraordinary, that a writer thus gifted should, in all her works +intended for publication, studiously resolve the circumstances, by which +she has excited superstitious apprehensions, into mere physical causes. +She seems to have acted on a notion, that some established canon of +romance obliged her to reject real supernatural agency; for it is +impossible to believe she would have adopted this harassing expedient if +she had felt at liberty to obey the promptings of her own genius. So +absolute was her respect for every species of authority, that it is +probable she would rather have sacrificed all her productions, than have +transgressed any arbitrary law of taste, or criticism. It is equally +obvious, that there is no valid ground of objection to the use of the +supernatural, in works of fiction, and that it is absolutely essential +to the perfection of that kind of romance, which she invented. To the +imagination it is not only possible, but congenial, when introduced with +art, and employed for high and solemn purposes. Grant only the +possibility of its truth, which “the fair and innocent” are half +disposed to believe, and there is nothing extravagant in the whole +machinery, by which it works. But discard it altogether, and introduce, +in its stead, a variety of startling phenomena, which are resolved at +last into petty deceptions and gross improbabilities, and you at once +disappoint the fancy, and shock the understanding of the reader. In the +first case, the reason is not offended, because it is not consulted; in +the last, it is expressly appealed to with the certainty of an +unfavourable decision. Besides it is clear that all the feelings created +up to the moment of explanation, and which it has been the very object +of the author to awaken, have obeyed the influence of these very +principles, which at last she chooses to disown. If the minds to whom +the work is addressed were so constituted as to reject the idea of +supernatural agency, they would be entirely unmoved by the circumstances +arranged to produce the impression of its existence; and “The Mysteries +of Udolpho” would have fallen still-born from the press! Why then should +the author turn traitor to her own “so potent art?” Why, having wrought +on the fears of her readers till she sways them at her will, must she +turn round and tell them they have been awed and excited by a succession +of mockeries? Such impotent conclusions injure the romances as works of +art, and jar on the nerves of the reader, which are tuned for grand +wonders, not paltry discoveries. This very error, however, which injures +the effect of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works, especially on a second perusal, +sets off, in the strongest light, the wizard power of her genius. Even +when she has dissolved mystery after mystery, and abjured spell after +spell, the impression survives, and the reader is still eager to attend +again, and be again deluded. After the voices heard in the chambers of +Udolpho have been shown to be the wanton trick of a prisoner, we still +revert to the remaining prodigies with anxious curiosity, and are +prepared to give implicit credence to new wonders at Chateau le Blanc. +In the romance of Gaston de Blondeville, Mrs. Radcliffe, not intending +to publish, gratified herself by the introduction of a true spectre; +and, without anticipating the opinion of the public on that work, we may +venture to express a belief, that the manner, in which the supernatural +agency is conducted, will deepen the general regret, that she did not +employ it in her longer and more elaborate productions. + +II. Mrs. Radcliffe’s faculties of describing and picturing scenes and +appropriate figures was of the highest order. Her accurate observation +of inanimate nature, prompted by an intense love of all its varieties, +supplied the materials for those richly coloured representations, which +her genius presented. Without this perception of the true, the liveliest +fancy will only produce a chaos of beautiful images, like the remembered +fragments of a gorgeous dream. How singularly capable Mrs. Radcliffe was +of painting the external world, in its naked grandeur, her published +tour among the English Lakes, and, perhaps still more, the notes made on +her journeys for her own amusement, abundantly prove. In the first, the +boldness and simplicity of her strokes, conveying the clear images to +the eye of the mind, with scarcely any incrustation of sentiment, or +perplexing dazzle of fancy, distinguish her from almost all other +descriptive tourists. Still the great charm of simplicity was hardly so +complete, as in her unstudied notices of scenery; because in writing for +the press, it is scarcely possible to avoid altogether the temptation of +high sounding and ambiguous expressions, which always impede the distant +presentiment of material forms. To this difficulty, she thus adverts in +her account of Ulswater. “It is difficult to spread varied pictures of +such scenes before the imagination. A repetition of the same images of +rock, wood, and water, and the same epithets of grand, vast, and +sublime, which necessarily occur, must appear tautologous, though their +archetypes in nature, ever varying in outline or arrangement, exhibit +new visions to the eye, and produce new shades of effect on the mind.” +In the journals, as no idea of authorship interposed to give restraint +to her style, there is entire fidelity and truth. She seems the very +chronicler and secretary of nature; makes us feel the freshness of the +air; and listen to the gentlest sounds. Not only does she keep each +scene distinct from all others, however similar in general character; +but discriminates its shifting aspects with the most delicate exactness. +No aerial tint of a fleecy cloud is too evanescent to be imaged in her +transparent style. Perhaps no writer in prose, or verse, has been so +happy in describing the varied effects of light in winged words. It is +true, that there is not equal discrimination in the views of natural +scenery, which she presents in her romances. In them she writes of +places, which she has not visited; and, like a true lover, invests +absent nature with imaginary loveliness. She looks at the grandeurs and +beauties of creation through a soft and tender medium, in which its +graces are heightened, but some of its delicate varieties are lost. +Still it is nature that we see, though touched with the hues of romance, +and which could only be thus presented by one who had known, and studied +its simple charms. + +In the estimate of Mrs. Radcliffe’s pictorial powers, we must include +her persons as well as her scenes. It must be admitted that, with +scarcely an exception, they are figures rather than characters. No +writer ever produced so powerful an effect, without the aid of sympathy. +Her machinery acts directly on her readers, and makes them tremble and +weep, not for others, but for themselves. Adeline, Emily, Vivaldi, and +Ellena, are nothing to us, except as filling up the scene; but it is we +ourselves, who discover the manuscript in the deserted abbey; we, who +are prisoners in the castle of Udolpho; we, who are inmates of +Spalatro’s cottage; we, who stand before the secret tribunal of the +Inquisition, and even there are startled by the mysterious voice +deepening its horrors. The whole is prodigious painting, so entire as to +surround us with illusion; so cunningly arranged as to harrow up the +soul; and the presence of a real person would spoil its completeness. As +figures, all the persons are adapted with peculiar skill to the scenes +in which they appear;—the more, as they are part of one entire +conception. Schedoni is the most individual and fearful; but through all +the earlier parts of the romance, he stalks like a being not of this +world; and works out his purposes by that which, for the time at least, +we feel to be superhuman agency. But when, after glaring out upon us so +long as a present demon; or felt, when unseen, as directing the whole by +his awful energies; he is brought within the range of human emotion by +the discovery of his supposed daughter, and an anxiety for her safety +and marriage; the spell is broken. We feel the incongruity; as if a +spectre should weep. To develope character was not within the scope of +Mrs. Radcliffe’s plan, nor compatible with her style. At one touch of +human pathos the enchantment would have been dissolved, as spells are +broken by a holy word, or as the ghost of Protesilaus vanished before +the earthly passion of his enamoured widow. + +As the absence of discriminated feeling and character was necessary to +the completeness of the effect Mrs. Radcliffe sought to produce, so she +was rather assisted by manners peculiarly straight-laced and timorous. A +deep vein of sentiment would have suggested thoughts and emotions +inconsistent with that “wise passiveness,” in which the mind should +listen to the soft murmur of her “most musical, most melancholy” spells. +A moral paradox could not co-exist with a haunted tower in the mind of +her readers. The exceeding coldness and prudence of her heroines do not +abstract them from the scenes of loveliness and terror through which we +desire to follow them. If her scrupulous sense of propriety had not +restrained her comic powers, Mrs. Radcliffe would probably have +displayed considerable talent for the humorous. But her talkative +servants are all very guarded in their loquacity; and even Annette, +quaintly and pleasantly depicted, fairly belongs to the scene. Her +old-fashioned primness of thought, which with her was a part of +conscience, with all its cumbrous accompaniments, serves at once to +render definite, and to set off, her fanciful creations. Romance, as +exhibited by her, “tricked in antique ruff and bonnet,” has yet eyes of +youth; and the beauty is not diminished by the folds of the brocade, or +the stiffness of the damask stomacher. + +These remarks apply, in their fullest effect, only to “_The Mysteries of +Udolpho_,” and “_The Italian_,” in which alone the chief peculiarities +of Mrs. Radcliffe’s genius are decidedly marked. In her first work, +“_The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne_,” it is scarcely possible to +discover their germ. Its scene is laid “in the most romantic part of the +Highlands of Scotland,” yet it is without local truth or striking +picture. It is at once extravagant and cold. Except one scene, where the +Earl of Athlin pursues two strangers through the vaults of his castle, +and is stabbed by one of them in the darkness, nothing is delineated; +but incredible events follow each other in quick succession, without any +attempt to realize them. Those, who complain of the minuteness of Mrs. +Radcliffe’s descriptions, should read this work, where every thing +passes with headlong rapidity, and be convinced of their error. In some +few instances, perhaps, in “The Mysteries of Udolpho,” the descriptions +of external scenery may occur too often; but her best style is +essentially pictorial; and a slow developement of events was, therefore, +necessary to her success. + +The “_Sicilian Romance_” is a work of much more “mark and likelihood;” +and, very soon after its first appearance, attracted a considerable +share of public attention. Here the softer blandishments of our author’s +style, which were scarcely perceptible in her first production, were +spread forth to captivate the fancy. Transported to the “sweet south,” +her genius, which had shrunk in the bleak atmosphere of Scotland, caught +the luxurious spirit of a happier clime. Never was a title more justly +applied than to this romance; it reminds the reader of “Sicilian +fruitfulness.” In tender and luxurious description of natural scenery, +it is surpassed by none of Mrs. Radcliffe’s productions. The flight of +her heroine is like a strain of “lengthened sweetness long drawn +out;”—as one series of delicious valleys opens on us after another; and +the purple light of love is shed over all. Still she had not yet +acquired a mastery over her own power of presenting terrific incidents +and scenes to the eye of the mind, and awakening the throbs of suspense +by mysterious suggestions. The light seen through the closed windows of +the deserted rooms—the confession of Vincent stopped by death—the groans +heard from beneath Ferdinand’s prison—and the figure perceived stealing +among the vaults, are not introduced with sufficient earnestness, and +lose all claim to belief, by the utter incredibility of the incidents, +with which they are surrounded. Escapes, recaptions, encounters with +fathers and banditti, surprising partings, and more surprising meetings, +follow each other as quickly as the changes of a pantomime, and with +almost as little of intelligible connexion. One example may +suffice.—Hippolitus enters a ruin by moonlight, for shelter; hears a +voice as of a person in agony; sees, through a shattered casement, a +group of banditti plundering a man, who turns out to be Ferdinand, his +intended brother-in-law; finds himself, he knows not how, in a vault; +hears a scream from an inner apartment; bursts open the door and +discovers a lady fainting, whom he recognizes as his mistress; overhears +a quarrel and combat for the lady between two of the banditti, which +ends in the death of one of them; fights with the survivor, and kills +him; endeavours to escape with Julia; finds his way into a “dark abyss,” +which is no other than the burial-place of the victims of the banditti, +marked with graves, and strewed with unburied carcases; climbs to a +grate, and witnesses a combat between the robbers and officers of +justice; escapes with the lady through a secret door into the forest, +where they are pursued by her father’s party; but, while he fights at +the mouth of a cavern, she loses her way in its recesses, till they +actually conduct her to the dungeon where her mother, who had been +considered dead for fifteen years, is imprisoned;—and all this in a few +pages! There are, in this short story, incidents enough for two such +works as “The Mysteries of Udolpho,” where, as in that great romance, +they should not only be told, but painted; and where reality and +grandeur should be given to their terrors. + +In “_The Romance of the Forest_,” Mrs. Radcliffe, who, since the dawn of +her powers, had been as one “moving about in worlds unrealized,” first +exhibited the faculty of controlling and fixing the wild images which +floated around her, and of stamping on them the impress of consistency +and truth. This work is, as a whole, the most faultless of all her +productions; but it is of an inferior order to “The Mysteries of +Udolpho” and “The Italian;” and can only be preferred by those, who +think the absence of error of more importance than original excellence. +There is a just proportion between all its parts; its mysteries are +adequately explained; it excites and gratifies a very pleasant degree of +curiosity; but it does not seem to dilate the imagination, nor does it +curdle the blood. Its opening after a sentence of marvellous +common-place, is striking; the midnight journey of La Motte and his +family they know not whither, and the introduction of the heroine, under +extraordinary circumstances, to their care, rivet attention to all that +is to follow. The scenes in the forest where they take up their abode +are charming. This seems the most delicious asylum for the persecuted +outlaw; its wood-walks and glades glisten before us with the morning +dew; and there is something in the idea of finding a home in a deserted +abbey, which answers to some of the wildest dreams of childhood, and +innocently gratifies that partiality for unlicensed pleasure, or repose, +which is so natural to the heart. The whole adventure of La Motte and +the Marquis is sufficiently probable and interesting; and the influence, +which it ultimately enables the more resolute villain to exercise over +the weaker, is managed with peculiar skill, and turned to great account +in the progress of the story. There is here scarcely any hint of the +supernatural; but the skeleton in the chest of the vaulted chamber; the +dagger, spotted with rust; the manuscript of the prisoner, which Adeline +reads by the fitful light of her lamp, and which proves to be written by +her own father, possess us with the apprehension of some secret crime, +which acquires importance from its circumstances and its mystery. There +are some highly-finished scenes; as that where Adeline, in her solitary +chamber, dares not raise her eyes to her glass, lest another face than +her own should meet them; her escape with a man whom she supposes to be +the servant she had trusted, and who startles her with a strange voice; +the luxurious pavilion of the Marquis, to which we are introduced after +a frightful journey through a storm; and, above all, the conversation, +in which the Marquis, after a series of dark solicitations, understood +by La Motte, as pointing to Adeline’s dishonour, proposes her death. +This last, as a piece of dramatic effect, is perhaps equal to any +passage in the author’s works. The closing chapters of the work are +inferior in themselves to its commencement; but they gratify by +affording a worthy solution of the intricacies of a plot, which has +excited so deep an interest in its progress. + +“_The Mysteries of Udolpho_” is by far the most popular of Mrs. +Radcliffe’s works. To this preeminence it is, we think, justly entitled; +for, although “_The Italian_” may display more purely intellectual +power, it is far less enchanting. Of all the romances in the world, this +is perhaps the most romantic. Its outline is noble, it is filled with +majestic or beautiful imagery; and it is touched throughout with a +dreamy softness, which harmonizes all its scenes, and renders its +fascination irresistible. It rises from the gentlest beauty by just +gradations to the terrific and the sublime. Nothing can be fancied more +soothing to the mind, fevered with the bustle of the world, than the +picture of domestic repose, with which it opens. We are dwellers in the +home of the good St. Aubert, who has retired to a beautiful spot, once +the favourite scene of his youthful excursions; and sharers in its +elegant and tranquil pleasures. Next come the exquisite journey of the +father and daughter through the heart of the Pyrenees, where we trace +out every variety of mountain grandeur; the richly coloured scene of +vintage gaiety among the woods of the chateau; and the death of St. +Aubert in the neighbourhood of a place, which we understand to be +connected with his destiny, and where strains of unearthly music are +heard in sad accordance with human sorrow. When Emily’s aunt, to whose +care she is consigned, marries the desperate Montoni, we feel that the +clouds are gathering round her progress, and we shudder at the +forebodings of approaching peril. A little interval is given among the +luxuries of Venice, which are painted with exquisite delicacy and +lightness; and then the work of terror begins. Nothing can be more +picturesque than the ascent of the Apennines; mountain seems to rise +above mountain in gloomy stateliness before us, till we skirt the inmost +valley, far shut out from the world, and Montoni, breaking a long +silence, utters the charmed words, “There is Udolpho!” The ideas of +extent, of massiveness, and austere grandeur, conveyed in the +description of the castle, have matchless force and distinctness, and +prepare the mind for the crimes and wonders, of which it is the silent +witness. Every thing beneath “these dark battlements” is awful; the +slightest incidents wear a solemn hue, and “Fate in sullen echoes” seems +to “tell of some nameless deed.” Not only the mysterious appearances and +sounds appal us, but the rushing wind, a rustling curtain, the lonely +watch-word on the terrace, have power to startle, and keep curiosity +awake. The whole persecution and death of Madame Montoni seem +prodigious, as though they were something out of nature; yet they derive +all this importance from the circumstances, with which they are +invested; for there is nothing extraordinary in the fate of a despicable +woman, worried into the grave by her husband, because she will not give +up her settlement. The mysteries of Chateau le Blanc are less majestic +than those of Udolpho, but perhaps they are even more touching; at +least, the visit of Emily to the chamber where the Marchioness died, +twenty years before, not without suspicion of poison, and which had been +shut up ever since, is most affecting and fearful. The faded +magnificence of the vast apartment; the black pall lying on the bed, as +when it decked the corpse; the robe and articles of dress remaining as +they had been carelessly scattered in the lifetime of their owner; her +veil, which hand had never approached since, now dropping into pieces; +her lute on the table, as it was touched on the evening of her death; +would be solemn and spectral, even if the pall did not move and a face +arise from beneath it. This scene derives a tenderer interest from the +strange likeness, which Emily seems to bear to the deceased lady, and +which is artfully heightened by the action of the old housekeeper +throwing the black veil over her, and by her touching the long-neglected +lute. Such are some among the many striking features of this romance; +its defects are great and obvious. Its mysteries are not only resolved +into natural causes, but are explained by circumstances provokingly +trivial. What reader would bear to be told that the black veil, from +which his imagination has scarcely been allowed to turn for three +volumes, conceals a waxen image; that the wild music, which has chanced +to float on the air, in all the awful pauses of action, proceeded from +an insane nun, permitted to wander about the woods; and that the words, +which startled Montoni and his friends, at their guilty carousals, were +uttered by a man wandering through a secret passage almost without +motive; unless the power and sweetness of the spell remained after it +was thus rudely broken? + +“_The Italian_” has more unity of plan than “The Mysteries of Udolpho;” +and its pictures are more individual and distinct; but it has far less +tenderness and beauty. Its very introduction, unlike the gentle opening +of the former romance, impresses the reader with awe. Its chief agent, +Schedoni, is most vividly painted; and yet the author contrives to +invest him with a mystery, which leads us to believe, that even her +image is inadequate to the reality. Up to the period, at which he +unnaturally melts from demon to man, he is the always chief figure when +he is present; and, where we do not see him, his spirit yet seems to +influence all around us. The great scenes of this romance stand out in +bold relief as in compartments; of which the chief are the adventures in +the vaults of Pallozzi; the machinations of Schedoni and the +Marchioness, for the destruction of the heroine; her confinement in the +monastery of San Stephano, and her escape with Vivaldi; her terrible +sojourn in Spalatro’s cottage on the seashore; and the whole +representation of the Inquisition, which fills the mind when Schedoni’s +supremacy ceases. Of these, perhaps the very finest is the scene in the +church, where the Confessor makes palpable to the Marchioness the secret +wishes of her heart for Ellena’s death: the situation is essentially +fearful; and all the circumstances are contrived with admirable effect +to heighten, vary and prolong the feeling of curiosity and terror. The +dreary horrors of the fisherman’s cottage are admirably painted; but the +effort to produce a great theatrical effect is very imperfectly +concealed; and we cannot help being somewhat dissatisfied with the +process of bringing a helpless orphan to such a distance, merely that +she may be murdered with eclat; with the equally unaccountable delay in +performing the deed; the strange relentings of the ruffian; and the long +preparation, which precedes the attempt of Schedoni to strike the fatal +blow. There is great art in the scene, to which all this is +introductory; and the discovery of the portrait is a most striking _coup +de theatre_; but the art is too palpable, and the contrast between the +assassin and the father too violent—at least, for a second perusal. Not +so, the graphic description of the vast prisons of the Inquisition; they +are dim, prodigious, apparently eternal; and the style is solemn and +weighty as the subject. Mrs. Radcliffe alone could have deepened the +horror of this gloom by whispers of things yet more terrible; and +suggest fears of the unseen, which should overcome the present +apprehensions of bodily torture. + +Of the tale and the poems now first presented to the world, it would +scarcely become us particularly to speak. The verses, scattered through +all the romances, are so inartificially introduced, that they have +little chance of being estimated by an impatient reader; but, when +examined, they will be found replete with felicitous expression and with +rich though indistinct imagery. + +In her own peculiar style of composition, Mrs. Radcliffe has never been +approached. Her success naturally drew forth a crowd of imitators, who +produced only cumbrous caricatures, in which the terrors were without +decorum, and the explanations absolutely farcical. No successful writer +has followed her without calling to aid other means, which she would not +condescend to use. The Author of “The Monk” mingled a sickly +voluptuousness with his terrors; and Maturin, full of “rich conceits,” +approached the borders of the forbidden in speculation, and the +paradoxical in morals. She only, of all writers of romance, who have +awed and affected the public mind, by hints of things unseen, has +employed enchantments purely innocent; has forborne to raise one +questionable throb, or call forth a momentary blush. This is the great +test not only of moral feeling, but of intellectual power; and in this +will be found her highest praise. + + * * * * * + +The Editor of the present Publication, who is not the Writer of the +preceding Memoir, is aware, that it would be unbecoming for him to say +more of Works, written by one so dear to him, than may be necessary to +give the Public an early assurance of their authenticity; and that fact, +he apprehends, will be sufficiently proved by the distribution, which he +has resolved to make, of the whole purchase-money of the copy-right. +Every part of that produce will be paid, as it shall accrue to him, to +some public charitable institution in England. The Lord Bishop of Bath +and Wells, and Sir Walter Stirling, Bart. in consideration of the +utility of this purpose, allow him the honour of saying, that they will +audit his account of that distribution. + + + + + GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE; + + OR THE + + COURT OF HENRY THE THIRD + + KEEPING FESTIVAL IN ARDEN. + + + + + GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE. + + + INTRODUCTION. + +“Well! now are we in Arden,” said an English traveller to his companion, +as they passed between Coventry and Warwick, over ground, which his dear +Shakspeare had made classic. As he uttered this exclamation of Rosalind, +he looked forward with somewhat of the surprise and curiosity, which she +may be supposed to have felt, and with an enthusiasm all his own, on +beholding the very scene, into which the imagination of the poet had so +often transported him with a faint degree of its own rapture. He was +not, it appears, one of those critics, who think that the Arden of +Shakspeare, lay in France. But he looked in vain for the thick and +gloomy woods, which, in a former age, were the home of the doubtful +fugitive, and so much the terror of the traveller, that it had been +found necessary, on this very road, to clear the ground, for a breadth +of six acres on each side, in order to protect the wayfaring part of his +Majesty’s liege subjects. + +Now, albeit the landscape was still wild and woody, he could not any +where espy a forest scene of dignity sufficient to call up before his +fancy the exiled duke and his court, at their hunter-feast, beneath the +twilight of the boughs; nor a single beech, under the grandeur of whose +shade the melancholy Jaques, might “lose and neglect the creeping hours +of time,” while he sadly sympathized with the poor stag, that, escaped +from the pursuit of man, came to drop his tears into the running brook, +and to die in quiet. Not even a grove appeared, through whose deep vista +the traveller might fancy that he caught, in the gayer light, a glimpse +of the wandering Rosalind and her companions, the wearied princess and +the motley fool, or of the figure of Orlando, leaning against an oak, +and listening to her song: he could not even catch the last faint echo +of that song, in a scene so different from the one his fancy had +represented to him for the forest of Arden. + +“Alas!” said he, “that enchanting vision is no more found, except in the +very heart of a populous city, and then neither by the glimmering of the +dawn, nor by the glow of evening, but by the paltry light of +stage-lamps. Yet there, surrounded by a noisy multitude, whose cat-calls +often piped instead of the black-bird, I have found myself transported +into the wildest region of poetry and solitude; while here, on the very +spot which Shakspeare drew, I am suddenly let down from the full glow of +my holiday-feelings into the plain reality of this work-a-day world.” + +Here ensued a conversation on illusions of the imagination and on the +various powers of exciting them, shown by English poets, especially by +Shakspeare and Milton, which it is unnecessary to repeat in this place. +Such was its length, that Mr. Simpson’s part in it had gradually become +less and less active, while Willoughton’s increased earnestness had +rendered him less and less sensible of the deficiency of replies. At +last, on his asking, rather peremptorily, whether his friend did not +recollect some fine effects of the towers of Windsor Castle upon the +imagination, Mr. Simpson, fortunately concealing how nearly he had +approached to a nap, answered, “No, no; I do not recollect any thing of +what you tell me; but you were talking a little while ago of Hamlet and +towers; now, if you want towers that would do honour to Hamlet, go to +Warwick Castle, and if we reach it, as we hope, this night, you can walk +from the inn while supper is preparing, and you will find, on the +terrace or platform before the gates, towers frowning and majestic +enough. If the moon is up, you will see them to perfection, and, as you +are so fond of ghosts, you can hardly fail to make an assignation with +one there.” “I shall delight in the advantage,” replied Willoughton, +laughing: “Though I am not so fond of ghosts in general, as you seem to +think. It is only for a few of particular excellence, that I feel a +friendship; for them, indeed, I am willing to own even an affection.” + +Willoughton, not receiving a rejoinder, observed, that his friend had +fallen again into his nap; and he returned to the busy thoughts, to +which his first view of this land of Arden, the ground of Shakspeare, +had led. Sunk in reverie, he was no longer in the living scene, but +ranging over worlds of his own, till a jolt of the carriage awoke his +companion; who, shaking his head, and looking out of the window, with +the sudden alertness of one who thinks he has been losing time, now +supposed himself bound to brush up his thoughts and to talk to his +friend. + +Willoughton could well have spared the interruption, till a remark, +delivered with an air of self-satisfaction, touched the string that +recalled him willingly to the present scene. + +“There now is an oak,” said Simpson, “that may have been of Elizabeth’s +time, by the hollowness of its vast trunk and the state of its +branches.” + +“Ay, long before her time,” said his companion, “and perhaps +Shakspeare’s eyes have dwelt on it; perhaps he has rested under its +shade:—O! we are coming now to something like the Forest of Arden: see +how finely the woods rise in the distance, and what a rich gleam the +western sun throws along the ground, beyond those low-hung boughs on our +left.” + +As the travellers advanced upon Kenilworth-chace, the country assumed a +more forest-like appearance, and a new train of ideas engaged +Willoughton, on approaching the venerable ruins of the once magnificent +castle, at one period its prison, and at another, the _plaisance_ of +royalty, where Edward the II. groaned under the traiterous power of +Mortimer, and his abandoned Queen; and where the crafty Leicester +entertained Elizabeth, with princely splendour. The domain of this +castle, with its parks and chaces, included a circuit of nearly twenty +miles; and when a survey of it was taken in the reign of James the I., +on its forfeiture by the voluntary exile and contempt of Sir Robert +Dudley, the son of Leicester and of his first wife, the Lady +Sheffield,—the woods alone were valued at twenty thousand pounds, +according to Dugdale, who observes of the castle and its territory, that +“the like, both for strength, state, and pleasure, was not within the +realm of England.” + +Recollections of the long and varied history of this castle, crowded +upon the mind of Willoughton, and he looked out, with impatience, for a +glimpse of its stately towers in the distance, and then of its +mouldering gateways, in the sun gleam, beneath the woods that now rose +round him with majestic shade. Here, at least, was a mass and pomp of +foliage worthy of the noble ruin he was approaching and of the memory of +Arden; and, when he first caught a view of the grey walls and turrets +overtopping the woods, lighted up by the evening sun, whose long beams, +slanting now under the boughs, touched with a golden flush the bending +trunk of many an old beech standing deep within the shade, he uttered a +note of admiration and curiosity that discomposed Mr. Simpson, who +immediately directed the postilion to make his way to the nearest gate. + +Soon afterwards they found themselves in a valley, whose woody slopes +excluded all distant prospect, and confined their attention to the +venerable relique, which seemed to characterise, with its own quiet +gloom, the surrounding landscape. They observed the several fine and +detached masses of the castle rising on a lone rock in the centre of +this secluded little valley; and, as they drove towards the only +entrance of the area of these deserted courts, near the square-turreted +gateway, which Leicester built for the grand approach to the castle, the +impatience of Willoughton became tempered with a gentle and luxurious +melancholy, and he forgot even Shakspeare, while he was influenced by +somewhat of the poet’s feelings. + +But a sense of real life broke in upon him even in this scene of solemn +grandeur, and it required somewhat of the patience of a philosopher to +endure, in the full glow of his present enthusiasm, the clamorous +impetuosity of idle children, who, on the first sound of wheels, were +seen running to assail the strangers from every cottage on the +neighbouring banks. The visions of quiet solitude and of venerable +antiquity were, in an instant, dispersed; the chaise was surrounded, and +the travellers, having alighted, made their way with difficulty to the +little gate, that led through a garden beside Leicester’s ruined tower +into the area that was once the lower court of the castle, followed by a +noisy troop, whom neither money, nor command, could for some time +disperse. + +The tower—the gateway being now closed up,—was no longer accessible to +curiosity, nor could gratify it by any traits of the customs of former +times. No warder’s bench lurked within the gloom, nor portcullis hung in +the arch. The warden’s chamber for those, who, by military tenure, kept +guard on certain nights of the year, was transformed into a light +parlour, and the whole building changed into a modern habitation. From +the green and broken square, anciently the lower court-yard, the +travellers looked up to the noble mass of ruins that yet stand proudly +on their rocky knoll, and form three irregular sides of what was once +the inner and grand court. + +Of the fourth side, which separated the upper from the lower court, are +now no vestiges, save in the inequality of the ground where their +foundations stood, and where the walls, fallen from above, may lie +buried under the turf and briers, that now cover the spot. + +On the left, the shattered walls of that lofty pile, built by Leicester +and still called by his name, advance proudly to the edge of the +eminence that overlooked the lower court, hung with the richest drapery +of ivy; on the right, stands the strong square tower, called Cæsar’s, +which, though the most ancient part of the castle, appears fresher and +less injured by time, than parts that were raised some ages later. This +was the keep, or citadel, of the castle; and the prodigious thickness of +the walls appears through the three arches in front, proportioned and +shaped like some which may yet be seen in aqueducts near Rome; the walls +here show a depth of fifteen or sixteen feet. The stone, of which this +noble tower is built, is of closer texture and of a greyer hue, than +that in any other part of the building; and this hue harmonizes +beautifully with the ivy towers, which overshadow its arches and +doorcases, and with the ashlings and elder crowning its summit, which +highly overtops every relique of this once magnificent abode of princes. + +“It should seem,” said Willoughton, “that no human force could lay low +walls of such strength as these; yet, as one side of the tower is +destroyed, while the other three remain nearly entire, it must have been +assailed by some power more sudden and partial than that of time.” + +“Yes, Sir, yes,” said a man, who had been standing by, observing the +strangers with attentive curiosity, “that part was pulled down by +Cromwell’s soldiers, and, if they had had more time on their side, they +would have pulled it all down; as it was, they did a mort of mischief.” + +Willoughton turned to look at his informer, and saw a tall, thin man, +who appeared to be a villager, and who, without waiting for +encouragement, proceeded: “I have heard say, they destroyed all that +stood between Cæsar’s and John O’Gaunts tower there, at the end of the +great hall, and a deal on the other side of the court, between the +Whitehall and Lord Leicester’s buildings.” + +“Are those walls before us the remains of the great hall?” inquired Mr. +Simpson, pointing to a picturesque mass of ruins, standing on the third +side of the upper court and seen in perspective between the other two. + +“Yes, Sir,” said the man, “that there was the great banqueting-hall +where”— + +“Leicester entertained Queen Elizabeth,” observed Willoughton. “How +beautifully the ivy falls over those light Gothic window-mullions and +that arched door-way, so appropriately and elegantly sculptured with +vine-leaves! The sun now slopes its rays through the arch, as if +purposely to show the beauty of its proportion and the grace of the vine +that entwines it.” + +“Ay,” said Mr. Simpson, “many a pitcher of wine and many a baron of beef +have been carried under that arch by the king’s yeomen, when Henry the +Third kept his court here.” + +“I doubt whether by yeomen,” replied Willoughton, “for, though yeomen of +the household are mentioned, about this time, yeomen of the guard, a +part of whose office it afterwards became to carry certain dishes to the +king’s table, do not occur till the reign of Henry the Seventh. However, +it is probable, that, before the appointment of the latter, yeomen of +the household might perform this business on state occasions, and in +that very hall may have stood before the long tables, in double row, +with wine ewers in their hands.” + +“Those were times worth living in,” observed Mr. Simpson. + +“Ay, those were jolly times! Sir,” said the stranger man; “it’s lonely +and sad enough in that old hall now; nothing but briers and ivy. Why, +there is an ivy tree now against that old wall there, partly as old as +the wall itself. Look, Sir, it is as grey, and almost as sapless as the +stone it crawls upon, though the trunk is such a size, and hardly shows +a green leaf, spring or summer.” + +The travellers made their way among the briers to take a nearer view of +it; and, if verdant festoons of younger plants had charmed them, +Willoughton, at least, was no less affected by the withered sinews and +grey locks of this most forlorn and aged tree, which had itself become a +ruin, while adorning another. He climbed over hillocks of briers and +weeds, which now covered the ruins of walls, fallen into this +court-yard, and he looked down into the area of the great hall, through +a door-way which had once led from it by a vestibule towards the white +hall, of which latter hardly a vestige remains, and to King Henry’s +lodgings. Here he distinguished the upper end of that magnificent +banqueting-room, the very spot where the _deis_, or high table, had +stood, which had feasted kings and princes, its lords, or visitors; +where Henry the Third had sitten, where John O’Gaunt had caroused, and +where Elizabeth had received the homage of Leicester. + +At one end of this platform were still the remains of the large +bay-window, opening upon the grand court, where the cup-board had stood, +and the golden plate was piled; at the other end, a windowed recess +bowed out towards the spot, where there had been a lake, and to woods, +that still flourished. This also, on state occasions, had probably held +a plate-board, or cup-board, and, on others, had been occupied as a +pleasant seat, commanding the finest views of the park. + +The four walls only of this noble hall marked its former grandeur, not a +fragment of either roof, or floor, remaining; the ground, upon which +Willoughton immediately looked, having been the foundation of a chamber, +or hall, for domestic and inferior guests, under the great one, which +was eighty-six feet in length, and forty-five in width. + +Those walls, where gorgeous tapestry had hung, showed only the remains +of doorways and of beautiful gothic windows, that had admitted the light +of the same sun, which at this moment sent the last gleam of another day +upon Willoughton, and warned him, that another portion of his life too +was departing. + +The melancholy scene around him spoke, with the simplicity of truth, the +brevity and nothingness of this life. Those walls seemed to +say—“Generations have beheld us and passed away, as you now behold us, +and shall pass away. They have thought of the generations before their +time, as you now think of _them_, and as future ones shall think of you. +The voices, that revelled beneath us, the pomp of power, the +magnificence of wealth, the grace of beauty, the joy of hope, the +interests of high passion and of low pursuits have passed from this +scene for ever; yet we remain, the spectres of departed years and shall +remain, feeble as we are, when you, who now gaze upon us, shall have +ceased to be in this world!” + +“Why, here is a stone bench yet in this old window,” said Mr. Simpson; +“and a pleasant window it is still. This homely bench has outlived all +the trappings of the castle, though, I dare say, it was little valued in +their time!” + +“You see, Sir,” said the old man, “it belongs to the wall itself; else +it would have been carried off long ago.” + +Willoughton turned at the now repeated voice of this stranger, whose +intrusion he did not entirely like, though his knowledge of the castle +might be useful, and his conduct did not appear to be ill-meant. To an +inquiry, whether he lived in the neighbourhood, he answered, “Hard by, +Sir, in Kenilworth. I saw you was a stranger, Sir, and thought you might +like to know a little about the castle here; and, unless you hap to +light on such a one as me, you may go away as wise as you came—for, you +will know nothing. No offence, I hope, Sir.” + +“No, no; no offence at all;” replied Willoughton; “and since you are so +well acquainted with this spot, let me hear a little of what you know of +it.” + +“Ay, let us hear what you have to say,” said Mr. Simpson. + +Willoughton, turning as he heard this, perceived his friend seated in +the recess he had before noticed. Much remained of the beautiful +stone-work of this bay-window, and it now showed itself upon the glowing +west, where the sun had just descended, behind the dark woods of the +valley. He advanced into it, and looking out upon the scenery, was +interested by the stillness and solemnity that began to prevail over it. +At some distance down the steep bank on which the castle stands, he +could distinguish fragments of the walls that once surrounded it, with +here and there some remains of a tower, or a banqueting-house. The +ground below seemed marshy, but pasture of a better green stretched up +the opposite slopes, and mingled with the woods, that, on every side, +shut out the world! This valley seemed the home of a composed +melancholy. + +“But where,” said Willoughton, “is the noble lake that, in Leicester’s +time, surrounded this castle, on which, as you may have heard, Queen +Elizabeth was welcomed with pageants and so much flattery?” + +“Ay, where is it?” echoed Mr. Simpson, looking at the old man with an +air that seemed to say, “Now we have some use for you, and will put you +to the test.” + +But Willoughton, without giving him time to reply, proceeded:— + +“I am doomed to disappointment in Arden. For many miles, I could not +discover any thing like a forest-shade, that might have sheltered a +banished court, or favourite; and here not a wave of the lake, that +delighted a festive one, and which might have supplied me with a +floating island, moving to the sound of invisible music, or to the +shells of surrounding tritons and sea-nymphs. Nay, I cannot even catch a +gleam of the torches, which, on such an occasion, might have thrown +their light on the woods and towers of the castle, and have quivered on +the waters over which they passed.” + +“No, sir,” said the old man, “it would be a hard matter to find any +thing of all that now. Cromwell’s people would have knocked all that o’ +the head, when they drained off the water, if such things had been there +then.” + +“Cromwell’s people again! However it is as well to remember them. What +had the venerable scenes of Kenilworth to do with politics, or freedom? +But thus it is; if even the leaders in political agitations have a +better taste themselves than to destroy, for the mere sake of +destruction, they let the envy and malice of their followers rage away +against whatsoever is beautiful, or grand.” + +So said Willoughton to his friend, who smiled, as he perceived that the +indignant admirer of antiquity had allowed himself to speak of a +military operation, as though it had been a popular commotion. + +“Where went the line of the lake, my man of Kenilworth?” asked Simpson. + +“Why, Sir, it flowed round two sides of the castle, as I have heard say; +it went from the tilt-yard, all along the valley here, for half a mile, +and spread out at the foot of these banks,—as wide as to the woods +yonder, on the hill side.” + +“What a noble sheet of water,” exclaimed Willoughton, “with lawns and +woods sloping to its margin and reflected on its surface!” + +“Yes, Sir, all that on the opposite side was a deer-park then, as I’ve +heard from the account of some book, except that low ground further on, +and that was pasture for cattle.” + +“For cattle!” exclaimed Mr. Simpson,—“how they would poach such ground +as that!” + +“But what a beautiful picture they helped to make from the castle +windows here,” said Willoughton; “when, on a summer’s noon, they lay +under those shades, or stood in the cool waters of the lake.” + +“Ay,” said Mr. Simpson, “to such as did not value the land.” + +“It was just opposite the Pleasant, yonder,” said the aged historian. + +“The _Pleasant_!” + +“Yes, Sir; if you look this way, I will tell you where it stood:—it was +a banqueting-house on the lake.” + +“O! the _Plaisance_!” + +“It stood on the walls there, down in the valley, to the right of John +O’Gaunt’s tower here, and not far from the Swan Tower; but it is so dusk +now you can hardly see where I mean.” + +Willoughton inquired where the Swan Tower stood. + +“Further off, a good way, Sir; but there is nothing of it to be seen +now. It stood at the corner of the garden-wall, just where the lake came +up; but there is nothing to be seen of that garden either now, Sir, +though we know the place where it was. Queen Elizabeth used to take +great delight in the banqueting-house, as I’ve heard.” + +“It was pleasantly seated;” observed Willoughton. + +“Yes, Sir; but there was rare feasting and music too, I reckon. She used +to be fond of sitting in this very window, too!” + +“How do you know all this, my friend?” + +“Why, Sir, the place is called Queen Elizabeth’s turret, to this day, +because she took such a fancy to it; and it was pleasant enough to be +sure, for it overlooked the widest part of the lake;—this bench had +velvet trappings enough then, I warrant.” + +“I have no pleasure in remembering Elizabeth;” said Willoughton, as he +turned to look for his friend. + +“No!—not in remembering the wisest princess that ever reigned?” said Mr. +Simpson. + +“No: her wisdom partook too much of craft, and her policy of treachery; +and her cruelty to poor Mary is a bloody hand in her escutcheon, that +will for ever haunt the memory of her.” + +“You are too ardent,” observed Mr. Simpson; “much may be said on her +conduct on that head.” + +“She inspires me only with aversion and horror,” replied Willoughton. + +“She gives other people the horrors, too,” said the villager. + +“How do you mean, friend?” + +“There are strange stories told, Sir, if one could but believe +them;—there are old men now in the parish, who say they have seen her +about the castle here, dressed in a great ruff about her neck, just as +she is in her picture; they knew her by that.” + +Here Mr. Simpson, giving Willoughton a look of sly congratulation, on +his having met with a person of taste seemingly so congenial with his +own, burst forth into a laugh, or rather a shout, that made every echo +of the ruin vocal, his friend smile, and the old man stare; who, +somewhat gravely, proceeded—— + +“They say, too, she has been seen sitting there, in that very window, +when there was but just light enough to see her by.” + +“A ghost in a ruff and farthingale!” exclaimed Mr. Simpson, in +exultation;—“that is, surely, the very perfection of propriety in the +ghost-costume;” and again the roar of laughter rolled round every turret +of the castle. + +“Why does that strike you as so absurd?” asked Willoughton; “this is +only a ghost representing the familiar image of the person when alive. +Can it be more ridiculous than the Scotch plaid for the supernatural +being, whom we call a witch? And yet, when you and I used to discuss the +taste of ghost-dresses, you did not object to that appearance; but +justified it, as one with which popular superstition was familiar.” + +“Yes,” replied Simpson; “but though the ruff and farthingale accompany +our idea of Queen Elizabeth, it is of her, as a living character, not in +that of her apparition.” + +“And yet,” rejoined Willoughton; “if you remain in this ruin, half an +hour longer, till you can scarcely distinguish the walls, you will feel +less inclined to laugh at Queen Elizabeth’s ghost in a ruff and +farthingale.” + +“Perhaps I might,” said Mr. Simpson, “if you had not let me so much into +the secret of effect in these cases. Yet I question whether it would +have been possible for Elizabeth’s picture, arrayed in that ridiculous +court-dress, supposing it actually to appear, to extort from me any +thing but laughter.” + +“They say, Sir,” said the aged man, “that she looked solemn and stern +enough as she sat in that window, just where you do now, leaning her +head upon her hand, or something that looked like one. She sat quite +still, for some time, and old Taylor sat quite still looking at her, for +he could not move;—but when she rose up and turned round, and made a +motion with her hand—thus—as much as to say, ‘Go about your business!’ +he thought he should have dropped, and would have gone fast enough if he +could.” + +“Ay,” said Mr. Simpson; “there was the characteristical in manner, as +well as in dress. This must be a true history!” + +“Well, friend,” said Willoughton, “and what followed?” + +“Why, Sir, then she went down this steep place you now stand upon, into +the hall there, where _he_ could not have gone, in broad day-light, +without risk of his neck; she sank down, as it were, and he lost her +awhile, it was so dark; but presently he saw her, all on a sudden, +standing in that door-way there,—and I can almost guess I see her there +now.” + +“You are a silly old man,” said Mr. Simpson; and he looked immediately +to the door. + +“You would not like,” said Willoughton, smiling, “to inquire minutely +into the difference between purposely avoiding to look, and purposely +looking in the midst of this story;” but—turning to the old man—“what +next?” + +“Why, Sir, she stood in the arch some time with a very stern look; but I +never rightly understood what became of her. Old Taylor said she passed +away like a cloud; but then afterwards he was not sure but he saw her +again, in a minute or two, in this very window.” + +“And have you never been fortunate enough,” said Mr. Simpson, “to see +any of those sights?” + +“No, Sir, no; I hope I have no need of them; though, if I was that way +given, I might have thought _I_ saw things too sometimes. Once by +Mortimer’s tower, down in the tilt-yard, I as good as thought I saw a +man standing with a mask on his face, in a moonlight night, with a drawn +sword in his hand.” + +“That tower,” remarked Willoughton, “was doubtless named after Mortimer, +the paramour of the infamous Isabel?” + +“They say, Sir, some king was once shut up there.” + +“Ay, Edward the Second, for a short time.” + +“And they will tell you a power of stories of what was to be seen about +that tower, before it was pulled down, and after too; but I don’t +believe a word of them. People are always conjuring up strange tales +when they have nothing better to do. I have got an old book at home full +of them, enough to make one’s hair stand on end, if one could but make +it all thoroughly out. I showed it to Mr. Timothy, the school-master, +and he could hardly make it out neither; but he said it was no matter, +for it was full of nothing but nonsense. He read me some of it, and I +could not get it out of my head again for a week.” + +“Ay, it met with a thriving soil,” said Mr. Simpson, “it’s well you got +the nonsense out of your head at all. But how happened you to buy a book +in a language you could not read?” + +“I did not buy it, Sir; and, as to the language, I could understand that +well enough, but I could not read the letters; and Timothy himself +bungled at the spelling.” + +Willoughton inquired where this book was met with; and whether he could +have a sight of it? + +“Why, Sir, it was dug out of the ground, where an old chapel once stood, +belonging to the Priory hard by.” + +“O! I remember,” said Willoughton; “there was formerly a monastery of +Black Canons at Kenilworth, founded by Geoffry de Clinton, lord +chamberlain to the first King Henry, and the founder of this same castle +too: but go on.” + +“The place is used for a burial-ground still,” resumed the old villager; +“and it happened, that as Guy, our sexton, was one day going to dig a +grave there, he lighted upon a coffin, or the chest, or whatever it was, +that held a many things besides this strange book.” + +“Indeed!” said Willoughton, eagerly; “let us hear a little about this.” + +“We shall not get to Warwick to-night,” said Mr. Simpson, gravely. + +“Why, Sir, it was one day last autumn,—no, I believe it was as late as +November; I remember it had rained hard all morning; but whether it was +October or November, I cannot be sure.” + +“That, I should suppose, does not much signify,” said Mr. Simpson. + +“Come, now,” said Willoughton, “do let him be as circumstantial as he +pleases.” + +“Willingly, willingly, only remember, we are not to sleep at +Kenilworth.” + +“Well, Sir, I cannot be sure exactly of the time, only it had been a +dismal day; but the rain was over, when old Guy came running to me in as +great a fright as ever I saw a man, and said he had found something in +the ground, he could not tell what, but he never felt any thing so heavy +in his life; he could not move it, and desired I would go and help him +to raise it; and he stared, as if he was out of his wits. When I heard +it was so heavy, I thought we might as well have my son to help us, for +he was a stout lad. Guy did not much like this, I saw, for he was +thinking he should find a treasure, and Guy was always a close one, and +for getting as much as he could; it was only two years before he got his +money raised for tolling; and there is not one in the parish has liked +him since. However, I got my son to go with me, and we set to work, +without saying a word to any one; and it was so near dark that nobody +was likely to see us in that lonely place.” + +“Well! but if it had been treasure, it would have belonged to the Lord +of the Manor,” said Mr. Simpson. + +“Yes, Sir, I know that well enough; but you shall hear. We raised it out +of the ground at last, and what should it be but an old oak chest. It +was so large, a man might have lain down in it at full length; but what +helped to make it so heavy was the iron bands that held it together, and +three great iron locks, that fastened it. Now, as the place where it was +dug up was the east end of the church, Guy took it into his head it +contained church plate, that had been put there, in troublesome times, +by the monks of the priory. If you had but seen him! he thought his +fortune was made; he threw away his spade, and cut a caper as high as a +wall. I thought myself there must be something worth looking at o’the +inside, but by this time it was so dark we could hardly see what we were +about; so I sent my son home for the lantern, and then we tried with old +Guy’s crow to get the lid open. We got it off at last; and what do you +think, Sir, we found? Why, nothing but old parchments; some with seals +dangling to them, and some old books, dropping to pieces with the worms, +though the leaves were thick enough, too: at the bottom of the chest was +a great heap of dust.” + +“Did you find nothing else?” asked Mr. Simpson, fixing his eyes on him. + +“No, Sir, nothing else,” said the old man, with a little hesitation; +“nothing else, except an old staff, with a large head; and there was a +little silver on that and on a book I have at home.” + +Mr. Simpson inquired what had made the chest so weighty. + +“Why, Sir, it was made of solid oak, six inches thick, I warrant, and +had a great deal of iron about it. I took a fancy to that book, though I +could not read it, for I could not make out the letters; but there is +some pretty pictures on the leaves, and the colours are as fresh as if +they were just painted; and some of the great letters are done all over +with gold as bright as the sun.” + +“A manuscript, illuminated probably by some monk of the priory,” said +Willoughton; “can I see it?” + +“Yes, Sir,” replied the old man, “I have it at home; but what made me +wonder most was to see it look so fresh, after it had lain all that time +in the ground; to be sure it was well wrapped up in parchment, and the +trunk was thick enough, for that matter; but some of the other books +dropped to pieces as soon as the air came to them.” + +Willoughton asked what had been done with the parchments; adding, to his +companion, that they were probably the leigerbook and some other +muniments of the Priory, hidden when the terrors of Henry the Eighth +first prevailed in the monasteries, and afterwards pretended to be lost, +first from some hope of their future utility, and then from a fear of +avowing their concealment. + +“When Guy,” resumed the old man, “found what sort of treasure he had +gotten, he was ready to throw himself into the old chest, to be put +under ground with it again; but I said there was no need of that; so we +took out some of the best of the books, but none of the others had +pictures; and Guy took the old staff, and then we did lay the trunk in +the earth again.” + +Willoughton made many inquiries concerning the parchments with the +seals, and the seals themselves, and whether his informant could find +again the spot where they were deposited. + +“Come, come,” said Mr. Simpson; “let us leave this place; it is almost +dark.” + +The old man said he thought he could find the spot; but that would be of +no use; for it had lain so deep in the ground, that there had been depth +over it for graves, and it was now beneath them. + +Willoughton, shocked at this circumstance, said no more on the subject; +but the old man proceeded. + +“Among other things in the book, Sir, is a view of this old hall. I +should never have found it out myself; for it was no more like what it +is now than nothing: but Timothy Crabb, our school-master, knew it at +once by this very window—and he read something about this window, +too,—and by a door-way in the wall, yonder.” + +“How does it appear in the drawing?” asked Willoughton. + +“Why, Sir,—but you shall see the book, if you like. The hall had a high +roof, like a church there, and a gallery ran all along the bottom of it, +and such a chimney!”— + +“Ay! like the remains of what we see here now, I suppose,” said Mr. +Simpson. + +“No, Sir, as different as can be.” + +“O! perhaps,” turning to Willoughton, “it was such an one as we saw at +Penshurst; a raised hearth, with irons to hold wood, in the middle of +the hall.” + +“No; that style,” observed Willoughton, “was of later date than chimneys +in English halls. It came in, I apprehend, with the castellated mansion, +of which style is Penshurst, the more ancient part of the building at +least. In the hall of the older castle, a chimney sloped back from the +line of the wall into the thickness of it, and let out the smoke through +a loop above. Thus, the raised hearth, on which the wood fire blazed, +projected into the chamber, and was sometimes overhung by a canopy of +stone-work supported by pillars, that gave it a resemblance to a gothic +porch, such as adorn some of our finest cathedrals.” + +“Yes, Sir, this in the book looks like something like a church porch +without the sides, the top comes so far over the hearth. Then all down +the hall are rows of tables, with gentle-folk and ladies sitting at +them, and—” + +“I must see this manuscript,” interrupted Willoughton; “it appears to be +a curious one.” + +“Come,” said Mr. Simpson, “it is already so dark, we can hardly see our +way hence. There is scarce a gleam of light left on the horizon.” + +“No, Sir, but the moon is rising yonder, and some gentry have a fancy to +see this place by moonlight.” + +“O! we have seen enough of it.” + +“I recommend you,” said Willoughton, “to avoid looking, just at this +moment, towards the door at the bottom of the hall, lest you should see +the stately form of Elizabeth in the archway; I had a glimpse of +something like her just now; nay, I am not quite sure that I did not see +the grave physiognomy of Leicester, under his small black velvet cap and +feather.” + +“We shall not get to Warwick to-night,” said Mr. Simpson, fretfully. +“They talk of the patience of a painful antiquary; think what the +patience of his friend must be.” + +“I have not the honour to deserve the former title,” said Willoughton. + +“Between us, we approach to it; the painful part of it, you will allow, +belongs to me.” + +“In the old sense of the word,” said Willoughton, “you do not claim it; +and, as to the new one, your jests recompense you for your pain: I have +all possible inclination to deserve the title, in its best sense; at +least by cherishing those inquiries, which make us intimate with the +characters and habits of our fellow creatures in past ages, which show +them to us in their halls, their ceremonies, their tournaments, their +banquets, their domestic usages and even in their monastic retirement. +These picturesque visions, in which the imagination so much delights, +and every discovery, however remote, awaken a peculiar kind of interest +and of sentiment no less delightful, which render antiquity, of all +studies, the least liable to the epithet of dry, though dull and dry +people so liberally bestow it. Antiquity is one of the favourite regions +of poetry.” + +“Nay,” said Mr. Simpson, “your woods and your meadows are the region for +that. Who ever thought of looking for a muse in an old castle? But come, +let us remember, that we are on the road for Warwick.” + +“Before we go, my friend here must show me his old manuscript; and I +must see this fine ruin by moonlight.” + +“By moonlight!” exclaimed Simpson; “would you really stay for so +romantic a purpose? We have seen it already by sun-light, and almost by +no light at all?” + +“The moon is rising, now, Sir,” said the old man, “and by the time the +gentleman has seen the book it will be risen high enough to give you +light on your journey.” + +“Meanwhile, the horses will have no objection to a little corn,” +remarked Willoughton; “nor the postilion to a little ale, if this good +man will direct him where to get it.” + +Mr. Simpson having added, that he too should like a little Warwickshire +ale, the old man replied, “The ale they sell is not much to brag on; +but, if you please, gentlemen, I will direct the lad where he and the +horses may rest themselves, and, if you will step with me, you can taste +some of my home-brewed, and see the book at the same time.” + +The travellers assented, and their conductor, after having directed the +postilion to a house, accompanied them to his cottage, where he produced +the desired manuscript. It was written on vellum, and richly +illuminated, and purported to be an account of what passed at +Kenilworth, when Henry the Third there kept the feast of Saint Michael, +and of some wonderful accident that there befel. + +“There is a title-page written almost in the form of a triangle,” said +Willoughton, “and that about as closely as if it were printed. The date, +which forms the apex of the reversed triangle, I cannot wholly make out, +but it is twelve hundred and something.” + +At the heads of chapters and sometimes on the broad margins, there were +made drawings of parts of Kenilworth Castle, as it had appeared in the +time of Henry probably, with some of the scenes which had there passed, +and sometimes with single portraits of the chief persons engaged in +them. These gave vivid ideas of the customs and manners of that period, +and were traced, with more knowledge of perspective and more attention +to proportion, than Willoughton expected. Among them was a procession of +knights and ladies, led by numerous harpers, returning from the +tilt-yard to the great hall, which showed a high sloping roof, while the +windows below, at a considerable elevation from the ground, had +round-headed arches, instead of pointed ones. The door-way, leading into +it, accorded with the place where one still appears; but the arch was +differently constructed, and the receding mouldings seemed to have been +ornamented with chevron work, or zigzag, instead of the elegant vine now +sculptured there, which latter he had no hesitation in assigning to the +time of Leicester. + +Another drawing gave an inside view of the hall, as mentioned by the old +man. The roof was of great height, open to the rafters, and with pendent +beams below, formed into arches, ornamented with inverted pinnacles, +nicely carved. Another drawing gave the inside of a chapel, of which +there are no longer any remains at Kenilworth. + +The original style of the building appeared very ancient, but this was +mixed with one more light and elegant, like that of the pointed arches +of the windows; and Willoughton conjectured this improvement to have +been made by Henry the Third, who is known to have repaired the chapel +of the castle for his own use, during his occasional residence there. + +There was a representation of a marriage ceremony in celebration at the +altar, where a numerous assemblage of dignified persons were arranged in +state. A king was giving the hand of the bride to a young man, who was +decorated with many military insignia, but who was so far from receiving +the gift with joy, that he appeared to be struck with consternation, +while the lady, by her attitude, seemed to be fainting. + +In the margin was a portrait of a king robed and wearing a crown of +gold, which seemed intended for Henry the Third, to whose statue in +brass, in his monument in Westminster Abbey, it bore a considerable +resemblance. + +At the head of another chapter was an inside view of a tower, where a +man was sitting alone near a lamp. In the background a face appeared at +the grate. The same chamber was represented afterwards, with a man +stretched upon a low pallet, but whether asleep, or dead, was not +expressed by the drawing. The lamp had gone out, and, instead of a face +at the grate, the moon appeared through a window beyond, and threw a +pale light on the couch. + +Another drawing gave a view of a chapel, or hall; Willoughton was not +certain which: there was, however, something like an altar at the +farthest end, near which stood a figure alone, the face concealed in a +vizor, the left arm, uplifted, held a shield, the right a lance, but the +feet were in a position of rest, though another figure near a door was +departing, as if with the fear of being pursued, his hands outstretched, +and his face turned back over his shoulder. There, too, the moon +appeared through a window, and the light fell upon the lifted shield. + +While Willoughton was musing what this could mean, the old man, looking +upon the leaf, said, “Timothy Crabb, Sir, maintains this is a picture of +the Priory-Chapel, he is sure, as it stood formerly. I should never have +found it out myself, there is so little left of the chapel; but Tim +makes it all out fine enough.” + +“Does he tell you what that figure means?” + +“Not as I remember, Sir; but the book tells that, I reckon.” + +Willoughton turned over the leaves near the drawing; the language, the +orthography and the characters were all so ancient, that he hesitated +much. What he did make out, however, fixed his attention so deeply, that +his friend lost the small remains of his patience, and declared he would +set off without him. Willoughton then told his humble host, that, if he +was willing to part with the manuscript, he was disposed to give him his +own price for it. + +“Why, Sir, I like to look at the pictures sometimes, and the gold is so +bright it is a pleasure to see it; but the book for other matters is not +of much value to me, though it may be to other people, seeing as I can’t +make it out; and, for that matter, if I could, I do not know any good it +would do; for, what Tim did read made me as foolish almost as old John, +and afraid to go near the castle, for some time, after dark, though I +was always counted a little more sensible than some. But I see no good +in such things, not I.” + +“You are a sensible fellow,” said Mr. Simpson, “and I wish my friend +here had a little less curiosity, and a little more such wit as yours. +And now, Harry, do leave the book and come away.” + +“No, I shall first console myself for the mortification of your +compliments. What shall I give you for the book, my friend?” + +“Why, Sir, I don’t know, I am sure; I don’t know the value of such +things. Tim Crabb said it might be worth its weight in gold for aught he +knew; but I leave it, Sir, to your generosity.” + +“It is well you do not leave it to mine,” said Mr. Simpson, “for I +should make a low reckoning of it.” + +The sum Willoughton offered accorded with his own estimation of so +curious a relick, rather than with the expectation of his host, who +heard it with exclamations of thankfulness; while Mr. Simpson expressed +not merely surprise but reprehension, and the vulgar proverb of “Fools +and their money—” was nearly audible on his lips. + +“What other books did you find in the same place?” asked Willoughton. + +“Ah! bless you, Sir,” replied the ancient villager, “I wish I had a +score of them.” + +“Well you may, my friend, if they would fetch you such a price as this!” +was the ready remark of Mr. Simpson. + +“It is his honour’s own generosity, Sir, and I suppose he thinks the +book worth the money, or he would not give it.” + +“Come, Harry,” continued Simpson, “here has been folly enough for once; +let us be gone.” + +“You are sure you have no other book like this?” inquired Willoughton. + +“There is another or two, that do still hold together, I think,” said +the old man; “They have got no pictures; but then they have the same +kind of letters, that cannot be understood.”—He went for them. + +“You will tempt the man to steal the parish-register, and offer it to +you as a curious relick,” said Mr. Simpson; “and indeed it will deserve +your money better than this.” + +The old man returned with a small quarto, printed in black letter and +bound in real boards, which had been guarded at the corners with brass; +the marks of clasps remained on it and those of a lozenge in the centre +of each board. + +“Though this is of later date, much later date, than the manuscript,” +said Willoughton, “I see it is one of the earliest books that came from +the press in England. It appears also by its contents, to have been +intended to assist the purposes of the monks of that dark age.” + +“A Boke of Sprites!” exclaimed Simpson, with a shout of exultation: “a +boke of sprites, with the signs they may be known by, and divers rules +to keep you from harm: the like was never known before!” + +“Excellent! excellent!” said Willoughton; “and here is another +black-letter volume. Well, friend, without looking further, what shall I +give you for them?” + +“This is past endurance!” said Mr. Simpson; “my patience is out!” + +“O Sir! I will give you these into the bargain,” said the old man, +smiling; an offer which Willoughton would not accept, who paid the old +man what he thought they were worth. Mr. Simpson, then taking his friend +by the arm, desired his host to direct them to the chaise. + +“I must see the ruin by moonlight,” said Willoughton; “but I will not +detain you many minutes.” + +“No, no; you will see the towers of Warwick by moonlight; which will be +much finer.” + +“My good friend here,” said Willoughton, “will order the chaise round to +the gate where it set us down; and, by the time it arrives, I shall have +seen what I wish to see.” + +“Be it so,” said Mr. Simpson, with an air of resignation; “one is sure +of you when a journey is to be begun; but never when one would end, or +hasten it. I have not forgotten our midnight rambles about Stonehenge! +Doubtless we were the first human beings, who had appeared there, at +such an hour, for many centuries; and what astonished me afterwards, +more than any thing I saw, was, that I myself should have been conjured +there at such an unseasonable hour; I, whose brain never hatched any of +those ‘high and unimaginable fantasies,’ as your poet Gray calls them, +‘which distract the heads of some of his readers.’” + +“Ay! those shadows of the moon at full,” said Willoughton laughing, as +they walked towards the ruin, his friend remonstrating with him on the +imprudence of this passion for antiquities and on his credulity. “And +can you really hold,” said he, “that these books were found in the +manner related; and that any of them, especially the ‘Boke of Sprites,’ +ever belonged to the library of the priory?” + +“It does not seem probable,” replied Willoughton, “that the old man +should have invented the story he has related of the discovery of them; +but, be that as it may, the books themselves announce their own genuine +antiquity. The manuscript is laboriously illuminated, and it is well +known, that such works were chiefly performed by the inhabitants of +monasteries. The Boke of Sprites even was likely to have served the +purposes of the monks. We know that the libraries of monasteries +contained a most heterogeneous assemblage: Ovid, the Romance of +Charlemagne, Guy of Warwick, and the Rimes of Robin Hood, have been +found on the shelf with Homilies, and other books; which, although they +might be tinged with the corruptions of the Papal school, ought not to +have had such companions. You may recollect, that Warton, in the +interesting sketches of ancient manners which he gives in his History of +English Poetry, mentions this very fully; and that, among others, the +library of Peterborough contained ‘Amys and Amdion,’ ‘Sir Tristram +Merlin’s Prophecies,’ and the ‘Destruction of Troy:’ and books of this +sort were not only copied, but often invented by the monks, sometimes +for their amusement, sometimes for worse purposes.” + +“One of the old books you have relates to their castle, I think,” said +Mr. Simpson, looking up at the shadowy masses; which, shown thus faintly +by the rising moon, seemed more majestic than before. + +“Yes, and I perceive,” continued Willoughton, “that even you feel a +curiosity to know what may have passed so many ages back, on the spot we +now stand upon.” + +“Why,” acknowledged Simpson, “when one looks up at the very walls now +crumbling into ruin, that were once so magnificent, and that inclosed +beings with passions as warm as our own—beings, who have so long since +vanished from the earth, one cannot help wishing to know a little of +their history and of the scenes they witnessed; but, for your legend, I +fear to trust it.” + +“It speaks of the times of Henry the Third,” said Willoughton, “those +were lawless enough to permit many adventures; and, if the citizens of +London were then robbed in the streets even at noon-day, what could +travellers in the forest of Arden expect? But this Manuscript seems to +tell of princely feasts given in the castle, and of adventures passing +in the presence of the Court.” + +“Ay, if one could but believe them.” + +“A great part of the castle,” pursued Willoughton, “which then existed, +is now gone; and much that we look at, stands in its place; but that +noble hall, and Cæsar’s tower and several other towers, such as those +where the moonlight falls, beheld the very court of Henry the Third, ay, +and Montfort, on whom he had bestowed Kenilworth, and who added +ingratitude to treason, by holding the fortress against his benefactor +and liege lord.” + +They stood for some minutes in silence, looking up at the ruin and +listening, as the breeze rushed by, to the shivering of the ivy, that +overhung it,—all the shining leaves trembling in the moonlight. The +pauses of solemn stillness, that followed these sighings of the air +among the old branches, were very solemn, and the sound itself—so still, +uncertain, and sudden, Willoughton could have fancied to have been the +warning murmurs of one, who, in his mortal state, had lived within these +walls, and now haunted the scene where it had once revelled, or, +perhaps, suffered. It seemed like a voice imperfectly uttering forth +some dark prophecy, and telling of the illusion of life and the +certainty of death. To Willoughton’s recollection this spectacle of the +remains of ages past, now glimmering under the soft shadows of +moonlight, brought those touching lines of Beattie— + + “Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, + And woo the weary to profound repose, + Can passion’s wildest uproar lull to rest, + And whisper comfort to the man of woes.” + +Willoughton stood so wrapt, that he heard not his friend’s inquiry, +whether he meant to pass a night at Kenilworth, as a sequel to a former +one at Stonehenge; nor was he immediately aware of the nearer approach +of his aged conductor, who said, in a tone somewhat tremulous, “You are +now on the very spot, Sir, where Mortimer’s tower stood; it was the main +entrance to the castle, when there was a lake, and it opened from the +tilt-yard, that ran along the end of the water into the lower court: you +see, Sir, it was quite on the opposite side of the castle from Lord +Leicester’s great gate.” + +Willoughton surveyed the place, but not a vestige of the building +remained. “Here then,” said he, “the unhappy Edward the Second was, for +a while, imprisoned, before he was removed to Corfe and Berkeley +Castles, his last abodes.” + +“If you please, Sir,” said the man, “the chaise is at the gate; and, if +you will take my advice, you will not stay here long, for I cannot say I +like it myself; I shall begin to think I see that strange figure again, +and I had rather not.” + +“Well, let us go,” said Mr. Simpson, “or I shall begin to fancy +something of the same sort, too. What did you say, it had a mask on its +face?” + +“Yes, Sir, and a drawn sword in its hand; but I don’t like the place, +Sir, let us go.” + +“Ay, ay,” said Mr. Simpson, “let us go; we—we—we shall not get to +Warwick to-night.” + +A laugh from his friend, which he too well understood, both vexed and +ashamed him. “I did not think it possible,” said he, “that I could have +yielded to the contagion of this folly thus; remember, however, it is +not Elizabeth in her ruff and farthingale, that I fear, nor any thing +else distinctly.” + +Willoughton laughed again triumphantly. “Better and better; your +feelings are true to my arguments, in spite of your own. I desire no +farther proof of the effects of time and circumstances—of solitude and +obscurity on the imagination.” + +As they passed by Cæsar’s tower, and inquired where the line of the +castle-ditch had been traced, he observed, that probably the chief +entrance had at first been over a draw-bridge to that tower, though now +no sign of it could be distinguished. + +When the travellers were once more seated in the chaise, Mr. Simpson +betook himself to sleep; while, on their journey of four miles through +the checkered moonlight of woody lanes to Warwick, Willoughton did not +lament the silence of his friend, which left him to the quiet musings of +his own mind, and to the peace of nature, reposing under this soft and +beautiful shade. The air was so still that scarcely a leaf trembled of +the lofty boughs that overshadowed the road; and when the postilion +stopped to make some alteration of the harness, the breathing of the +horses alone was heard through all this scene of night. + +There is a peace of the spirits, which has surely somewhat holy in it. +Such is the calmness which the view of a midsummer-dawn communicates, or +that of moonlight on woods and green plains; and such Willoughton +experienced during this short ride, till he drew near Warwick, when the +beautiful towers of Saint Mary’s appeared on the right, and the more +lofty and distant ones of the castle on the left of the perspective; and +these awakened the stronger interest of expectation. + +Having reached the inn, and Mr. Simpson, late as it was, having ordered +a good supper, they walked out to take a view of the castle. Finding +that, at this hour, they could not gain admittance by the porter’s gate, +they went to the bridge over the Avon, on the outside of the town, and +thence had a fine retrospect of the castle, with all its towers crowning +the high, woody bank of that peaceful and classic stream. One vast, +round tower of most warlike air, looking down upon the precipice, +delighted Willoughton more than any other. A part of the edifice, +repaired and adorned in the time of James the First, containing the +state rooms, which run in a long line upon the steep, was not in harmony +with this tower, and gave very different ideas of the character and +manners of the respective ages to which they belonged. The moonlight +touched this tower with a fine solemnity, and fell on the tops of the +dark cedars and other trees, that clothe the precipice, as it glanced to +Shakspeare’s stream below, where it rested in all its silver radiance, +as if pleased to claim it for its home. + +Willoughton leaned over the bridge, and looked upon the scene in +silence. The brightness of the river, the dark, clear shade of the +woods, reflected on its margin and rising with majesty up the steep, +with the grey towers, in softened light, crowning all, formed a harmony +of tints and of objects such as he had not often seen, and which +recalled to him that state of holy peace he had so lately experienced. + +Amidst the stillness of this scene, there arose a strain, as if +commanded by Shakspeare’s wand, and to which his words might have been +applied. “O! it came o’er mine ear, like the sweet south, that breathes +upon a bank of violets.” It was the music of French horns, sweetened by +distance and by the water, over which it passed, accompanied by a few +voices addressing the river and celebrating the bard in the well-known +song of Garrick and Arne,—“Thou soft-flowing Avon!” + +Nothing could exceed the beauty of some of the cadences, prolonged by +the deep, mellow tones of the horns, or of the chorus, and of the close, +that gave these words:— + + “The fairies by moonlight dance round the green bed, + For, hallow’d the turf is, that pillows his head.” + +They brought tears into the eyes of Willoughton, and drew from him a +deep sigh long after silence had returned. + +Mr. Simpson looked about to discover whence this charming tribute to the +memory of the loved poet came, and perceived two little boats stealing +along the margin of the stream, under shadow of the bank that rose to +the castle. The white awning of the first betrayed it to his eye, before +it emerged on the moonlight; and now the measured trampling of the oars +told its departing course upon the waters, till once again that chorus +died along the air, and then the steps of the oars were heard no more. + +The travellers remained for some moments, as if spell-bound, in +thoughtful silence; and they left this enchanting scene, and returned to +their inn, without having uttered a word. This was an unusual mood with +Mr. Simpson; he had caught it from his companion, rather than from the +scene; and now, on the entrance of supper, he rejoiced to get rid of it, +and to return to the more substantial pleasures of this world. + +Willoughton, when he had retired to his chamber, and had, as was his +custom, looked out upon the night, now overcast with gloomy clouds, sat +down to examine his manuscripts, instead of seeking repose. Bound up +with that of the “Trew Chronique,” was another, entitled “A Trew +Historie of two Mynstrells, that came by night to the Priory of Saint +Margaret, and what they disclosed, and what one in the convent by his +art, proved them to bee.” This “Trew Historie” was more difficult to be +deciphered than the “Trew Chronique,” and Willoughton left it for the +present, and took the “Boke of Sprites.” + +As he turned over the leaves, curious to see the thraldom of +superstition to which the people of a remote age were liable, he often +smiled at the artless absurdities he discovered, the clumsy inventions +practised upon the fears of the ignorant by the venality of the monks. +Yet he sometimes found his attention seized, in spite of himself, by the +marvellous narratives before him; till, at length, he began to feel that +he was alone, to recollect that it was past midnight, to observe that +all around him was still as death; and gradually to think he might as +well lay aside the “Boke of Sprites” till day-light should return and +the world again sound busily around him. + +He did so, and again took the “Trew Chronique,” desirous of ending his +long day, with some new traits of an age so distant from his own and of +the style, in which they might be shadowed forth. The mere spelling did +not render this so difficult, as the character in which it was written, +with its abundance of abbreviations and contractions. + +The following is a modernized copy, which he afterwards wrote out for +the amusement of a friend, who was fond of the subjects it touched upon, +but had not industry enough to work his way through the obstructions of +the original. In this copy, while Willoughton endeavoured to preserve +somewhat of the air of the old style, without its dryness, he was often +compelled to regret, that much of the effect of the story was lost, with +the simplicity, brevity and quaintness of the ancient manner. However, +he often retained the old words, where they did not seem to form too +glaring a contrast with the modern style, and, now and then, somewhat of +the quaintness of the original, the title of which ran thus:— + + =A Boke,= + + =Contenynge a trew chronique of what passed at + Killingworth, in Ardenn, when Our Soveren + Lord, the Kynge, kept ther his fest of + Senzt Michel; with ye marveylous + accident, that ther befel, at the solempnissazion + of the marriage + of Gaston de Blondeville. + With divers things, curious + to be known, + thereunto purtayning. + With an + account of the + grete Turney, + ther held + in the + yere + MCCLVI.= + + =Changed out of the Norman tongue + By Grymbald, Monk of Senzt Marie + Priori in Killingworth.= + + + + + THE FIRST DAY. + + +At the head of this chapter was a drawing, of the King and Queen, with +their train, passing under the towers of Kenilworth. Near the King rode +a young knight of a very spirited air; in one hand he held his cap, +bending towards the King, who seemed to be speaking to him, and with the +other he reined in his fiery courser. At some distance, was a man +pressing through the crowd, with eager gesticulation and a wild +countenance, towards the King. The royal banner, on the tower above, was +tinged by the setting sun, and the arms and caps of the soldiers on the +battlement there glistened with the rays. The cap of one of these, who, +as if to obtain a longer view of the King, appeared to have stretched +too far forward, was falling on the multitude below; some of whom were +laughing. + + + FIRST DAY. + +It was at the feast of Saint Michel, that King Henry, the third of his +name, with his Queen and sundrie of the nobles of the realm and a +marvellous train of estates and gentils, came to keep court in Ardenn, +at his castle of Kenilworth. The day was drawing to an end ere they +arrived: and it was a goodly sight to see this noble company coming over +the forest, till then so lonesome; and the last light of this day’s sun +glittering upon the helmets and lances of the King’s guard; likewise on +the gorgeous apparelling of their horses and trumpets, with their +banners unrolled, that went before his grace; also on the litters of the +Queen, covered with cloth of gold and with tapestry of rich colours, +brought from her own land beyond the sea. + +This noble train, with all the spear-men attendant on the King, was like +unto a little army covering the paths and tracks, for many miles, as +they wound amongst the woods of Ardenn; or like unto some mighty river, +that flowing along, appears, where the shades open, in shining bends +upon the plain, and is lost again as they enter beneath the gloom; but +yet may you judge of their course throughout all the prospect. Like as +you may the broken lines of the great aqueduct, stretching over the +plains of our dear father of Rome; which, as we perceive its distant +points athwart those solitudes, we connect in our minds into one great +whole, grander in its sweep than it might have shown when it stood +complete. + +There went before the King a hundred archers in pairs, sumptuously +apparelled, and having the feathers of their arrows stained with green; +the horns sounded before them through the woods: then fifty +demi-lancemen, two abreast; then fifty pike-men; then trumpets, with +their banners also displayed; then officers at arms, in their sur-coats, +the serjeants with their maces. In the midst was borne up the royal +banner, by six of the standard-bearers: the pipes of it were of silver, +and were slided along the banner-staff; which was held with horn in a +girdle of white leather, embroidered, worn by the King’s chief +standard-bearer. + +The King’s Highness came riding on a noble grey, widely encompassed +about with pike-men, and attended by divers nobles of the realm and by +knights and gentils, without number. His Highness wore that day a cloak +of purple velvet, lined with yellow satin, and furred with martin and +ermine; on his head was a cap of black velvet, bearing a sable plume. +His countenance was goodly and gracious, and he often turned and spoke +to those about him. + +On his right hand, rode the young Prince Edward, holding in his fiery +charger, yet looking as though he would fain spur him to the top of his +speed. Next to him rode the Archbishop of York. On the King’s left, was +his brother, the Earl of Cornwall. The Bishop of Coventry would have +been there, but he was then lying sick on his bed; but the Prior and +divers of the monks attended on the King. + +First amongst the knights, that waited on his grace, was Gaston de +Blondeville, a young Provençal; whom King Henry had raised, for some +daring exploits in his dominions beyond the sea, to be a knight of his +household. He was of comely person and gallant air; and managed his +proud charger with such easy grace, as a lady might, with silken +bandage, guide a fawn. He wore a cloak of pale olive, lined and guarded +with rose colour; his cap was of velvet like to it, and he wore his +feathers in the French fashion: for he was of the Queen’s country, and +had all the gaiety of her nation in his countenance and ’haviour. + +Yet were there some in the court, men of English ground, who liked him +not; it may be, because he was a stranger in our land, or that he bore a +proud defiance in his eye, or that they envied him his favour with the +King. + +Some way before the Queen, went fifty of the foresters of Ardenn clothed +in green, sounding their horns. She was in her litter, tapestried with +cloth of gold, and she was compassed all about with her ladies and her +nobles and esquires. Her litter was borne by two brave coursers, right +richly trapped with velvet, and led by pages apparelled in sumptuous +liveries; other pages, in ‘broidered doublets, went beside her, or +following. Then came her master of the horses, leading her palfrey, very +richly appointed, the bridle and breast-chain studded with jewels, +followed by another of her palfreys, led by a page. Her Highness was +adorned in a close gown of velvet, ’broidered about with pearls, and +bearing upon her head a great hood of black velvet, richly sewed with +large pearls. Following her Highness, came her ladies and gentlewomen +mounted on fair palfreys, richly appointed and apparelled; a goodly +company. + +Then came her Highness’s chariot empty, drawn by six horses, led by +pages in jackets of scarlet damask, with the English crown ’broidered on +their backs. They bore in their caps a white feather; dropping aside, in +the manner of France, whereat the people murmured, and well they might; +for such a sight of strangers, from her own land, the like was never +seen! But the Queen bore herself so graciously towards the people, +smiling upon them with her comely countenance, that she won away their +discontent. Other gentlewomen of her court followed her car, mounted on +palfreys. + +Next came Eleanor, the widowed Countess of Pembroke, the King’s sister, +now Countess of Leicester, in her litter, with a sumptuous train: and +then Cincia, the Countess of Cornwall, the sister of the Queen, right +freshly apparelled, and sumptuously attended by noble dames and gentils; +and a sight of people followed, in the different liveries of their +masters. + +Before the Queen, went her _mynstrells of music_; who, when they came +nigh to Kenilworth, began to blow upon their pipes, and to strum their +stringed instruments with most sweet noise—so that the bells of a +village there, which were rung for mirth, could not be heard so far. + +Amongst the damsels attending the Queen, none were so fair as the lady +Isabel, daughter of the Earl of Arundel, and the lady Barbara, daughter +of the Earl of Huntingdon; who followed her Highness, on white palfreys. +Ychon of them was beautiful beyond thought: the lady Isabel was the more +stately and carried a higher brow; but Lady Barbara’s smiles were +blyther than the morn. + +Soon as the towers of Kenilworth showed themselves upon the West, which, +if it had not been for the glowing spears of those on the battlements, +would hardly have been known from the dark woodtops,—soon as they +appeared, some halfscore of the foresters rode forward with their +bugles, to give sign of the King’s approach; but were straight sounded +back by the trumpets, which blew up a blast, that filled the forest, and +echoed to the very castle walls, ere the proud trumpeters would stop. + +Then his Highness courteously commanded, that those who had come forth +so many miles, to welcome him on his way, should be appointed to +proclaim him at the gates. They waited not for second bidding; but, +tuning up so clear and sweet, set spurs to their hobbies, and flew +swiftly as the arrows from their own bows. + +All the way hence to Kenilworth was lined with other troops of foresters +in green; who, at certain distances, saluted the King, as he passed, +with their bugles, in spite of the trumpets, that charged so loud and +shrill their minet-flourishes: and they followed in the Queen’s train. +The King’s pike-men and lance-men going after of all. + +At the first sound of the bugles before the gate, you might see the +great banner of England raised upon the keep of Kenilworth. Then, the +chief wardour of the castle appeared upon the turret; though he stayed +not long there, but went down to join his lord, in their service at the +gate. The archers behind the battlements stood in order; other bow-men +and the lance-men ranged themselves behind the tower-walls, and the +trumpets there answered the summons, with a blast, that shook the +forest, and made the fair waters of the valley tremble; roughening the +portraiture of towers and woods, which had seemed to sleep upon their +surface, as in a glass of chrystal. + +Then the Lord Constable, coming down from the keep, followed by a posse +of his officers, took to horse and went out to meet the King. As he +turned out of the gate, he met the Prior of Saint Mary’s, with the +twelve canons, and a long train processioning, all in full ceremony, +bearing precious reliques, to welcome his Highness; after them came the +priest and sundry of the parish-church, singing. + +The press of people, from all the country about, was so thick, that +hardly could the monks make way among them. The castellan, a man proud +and jealous of his high place, was not well pleased, that they should +try to present themselves to the King, before himself; but they were +soon right glad to follow in his train, for strait as he appeared, the +crowd was forced back, and they passed, without difficulty, in that +wise, full three furlongs. + +The castellan, coming in presence of his Highness, leaped from his +horse, and, on his knee, presented him the keys of the castle, on a rich +plate; the which his Highness readily delivered to him again, with a +gracious speech, bearing, that they were well in his custody. Then, the +Prior and canons of Saint Mary’s showed themselves in procession, with +banners, and chaunting sweet anthems, and his Highness looked kindly on +them; after which they went on to the Queen, and, paying duty, attended +her to the castle. But my Lord Constable, remounting his horse, rode +bareheaded before his Highness, to the very gates. + +Immediately before the King, was borne his sword of justice, by the Lord +Hubert de Lacey; where, on the sheath, you might behold, in letters of +rubies, these words, “Truth and Right.” As he passed all the people +cried out, “King Henry, King Henry, long live King Henry! and blessings +on your sweet-favoured visage!” + +Then, they threw forth on the air, for joy, among other tokens, corn and +flour; so that many of the nobles of the realm, nay, some of the King’s +guard, liked it not, for the flour-dust, falling on their garments, +disguised them like unto grinders of corn: but they held their peace, as +needs must, passing on in solemn stateliness. + +Before the castle gates, a great show of the King’s bow-men were drawn +out to receive him, and the courts within were lined, and every tower +and battlement was thronged with his soldiers. There, too, were the +foresters ready at the gates, who, on the King’s approach tuned up their +merry bugles, with might and main; as though one breath sounded through +the whole of them. But, when the heralds passed under the towers, their +trumpets took their revenge, for they gave many blasts, that made every +court within shake for joy; and showed more like a triumph of war than a +flourish of festival. They on the ramparts now seemed to take the hint, +and joined them with such warrior-sounds of fierce disdain, that the +clear bugle seemed but as a shepherd-pipe beneath them, and, for a +season, was not heard at all. + +Certes, the noise of the trumpets and cornets, the clanging of bells, +the trampling of horses over the bridge, the striking of swords upon +shields, with, ever and anon, the shouts of the multitude, astounded +cattle and fowl in the woods, far and wide. Old wives and they that +might not leave their homes for sickness could hear the mingled uproar; +and could know as surely, when the King reached Kenilworth, as those, +who had journeyed thither to behold him. And many an outlaw in the +forest, who feared to show his face among the crowd, lay hearkening in +his den, or stalked under the old oaks, while he watched the minutes of +the coming twilight, and reckoned on the booty he should seize from +careless travellers, returning, at night, to distant towns. + +Some too there were, who, in the pathless holds of this forest, heard +the far-off voice of joyance and society, with bitter grief; finding +out, too late, they were not made for that lonesomeness of heart their +thoughtless vices had condemned them to. Alas! for such, let them shrive +and betake themselves, as penitents, to holy cloister. + +When the Queen’s litter came near the gates of the castle, her minstrels +of music sang with most sweet glee, and the bugles saluted her as she +passed into the barbican, or first tower of defence; but, soon as she +appeared on the draw-bridge, the trumpets from the ramparts blew up a +flourish, and then the minstrels stopped, though they had not finished +their fit. And they did well; for hardly could there be heard the +trampling of the horses’ hoofs upon the bridge, nor the distant music in +the courts before the King. The walls and turrets, thronged with faces, +seemed to be alive, and to shout, as with one voice, “Queen Eleanor! +Queen Eleanor! long live Queen Eleanor!”—but some few were heard to +shout, “Away with the foreigners!—away with all foreigners!” which the +good Queen seemed not to hear, though she guessed in her heart what they +said; and many a noble knight and lady near her knew well. She, with +unchanged countenance, showed only sweet smiles to those numberless +eyes, darting from the walls and battlements, all turned upon her +litter, as it passed over the bridge, glittering in the last beams of +this day’s sun, and then entered beneath that deep and dark archway of +the great tower, leading into the base court. + +Beyond, in the sunshine, could be seen the King’s Highness, preceded by +the Lord Constable, and having the Archbishop on his right and Prince +Edward on his left, passing forward to the upper court; where, on the +steps, stood the marshals of the hall, the stewards, the esquires of the +household, with many officers of the castle, waiting to receive him, +some with chains of gold on their necks: the royal banner waving over +all. They stood so thick, looking over one another’s shoulders, face +above face, on the steps there, that they seemed like a rampart of +heads; while, below them, in the same court, the lance-men and yeomen of +the household stood waiting to receive the Queen. + +And truly it was a pleasureful sight, to behold that vision of light +appearing beyond the deep portal, under which stood, on either hand, the +wardours in their niches, to the number of eight; so dim, they showed +like shadows more than substance, albeit, they did not lack of that. And +a more delightful sight it was to behold the Queen and all her train, +winding through that dark arch into the beams beyond; the rich trappings +of steeds and men, their breast-plates and spears and steel caps, all +glancing in the setting sun. There, too, you might see, through the +higher bars of the portcullis, the windows of the great chamber hung out +with tapestry of silk and cloth of gold. + +But that, which caused some surprise to those who watched without, was a +sudden turmoil, that appeared around the King in the court, just as the +Queen’s litter was advancing forth of the archway. A man was seen +forcing himself among the guards, towards his Highness, who turned his +face backwards in the sun, as if to see what was going on; and seemed to +rein in his steed, while he held forth his right arm to Sir Gaston de +Blondeville, who, with cap in hand, leaned forward on his courser, as if +receiving some command. The while, the heads and spears of soldiers +gathered round, moving in tumultuous hurry, rising and falling +incessantly, like unto those stormy white tops coming on over a darkened +sea. + +On a sudden, the King disappeared: some thought he had fallen from his +steed, struck by the hand of the stranger; and then, such was the throng +of people beyond the portal to get forward for more certainty, that +hardly could the Queen’s guard keep them back, till his Highness was +seen ascending the steps of the high court. + +At last, out of the midst of the confusion a shield was seen raised upon +the traversed spears of six soldiers, and borne towards the outer gate, +having upon it a man stretched, as if dead. But at the great portal the +soldiers stopped, and drew aside to make way for the Queen; his +Highness, meanwhile, with his nobles and young knight, had withdrawn +into the state apartments. + +When her Highness was gone by, they brought the man upon the shield into +the free air without the walls, and lowered their burden on the grass; +but the tumult of the people was so great, (they suspecting that he had +attempted the Kings life) that the soldiers with their spears had much +ado to save him from their fury, or to keep a little space open around +him. + +He was a man of goodly appearance, that lay there, seeming without life. +Anon, he began to stir himself, and in a little while opened his eyes; +the which, when the people saw it, redoubled their fury; and they +demanded, that he should be had to prison, for “he has assailed the life +of our good King!” With that they made such a roaring, that the shouts +of the soldiers, who wanted to set them right, could not be heard, the +women brawling louder than all of them together. + +Thus it went for some time: and then, the noise being hushed, they found +out the man was innocent of what they had suspected. + +When the stranger had recovered himself a little, he stared wildly; and, +raising himself up, he looked round him, as if examining the countenance +of every one, whom curiosity or anger had made to bend over him. And so +he looked again and again, till they asked him, if he thought he saw the +countenance of any one there, whom he knew. Then he fetched a deep sigh, +and said, “I as surely saw him as I now breathe, but he is not here.” + +Divers present then asked him, of whom he spoke, but he only muttered to +himself, “I could not be deceived; it is impossible for me ever to +forget him.” Then he shook from limb to limb, and was nigh going off +into a swoon again. The people, meanwhile, pressed upon the soldiers to +know what all this meant; and curiosity and pity began to take the place +of rage. + +The tale went, that, as King Henry had approached the entrance of the +second court, this man, who had passed the portal amongst the King’s +horses, at the risk of his life, came beside him, and, having fixed his +eyes with the greatest attention upon a knight of the King’s household, +cried out, “Justice! most noble Henry.” Then, as if unable to utter +something he would have spoken, he fell down in strong convulsions, and +was nigh being trampled to death. His Highness, seeing the condition of +the man, had commanded he should be taken forth of the court, and aid +administered to him; and this was all the soldiers could tell. + +There were some amongst the crowd who thought they had seen him before, +and questioned him of his name, and wherefore he had presumed to +approach the King in such manner; to all which he would nothing answer; +but seemed heavy at heart, and as if his very sadness would not let him +speak; only these words he uttered, once or more,—“It was he himself! I +should have known him at Cairo!” + +Some still said they had seen the poor man before; naithless he proved +to be a stranger in Kenilworth. When he could walk, he was led back to +the little hostel, where he had taken up his lodging, and there he +remained closely hid from the eyes of every one, all that night. + + + THE SECOND DAY. + +At the head of this chapter was a view of the tilt-yard, at the end of +the great lake, with the towers of Kenilworth above.—In the lists were +two armed knights, on foot, each poising his spear at the other. They +were cased in complete steel; their visors closed, each bearing on his +helmet his plume and crest. There was somewhat very impressive in the +station and in the whole appearance of these armoured figures. Each +stood with his right foot advanced; the right arm, holding the spear, +was raised high, displaying at once the strength and grace of an +accomplished warrior. At the end and along one side of the tilt-yard, +were galleries hung with tapestry, where sat the Queen and her ladies, +and the King and his nobles, waiting to behold the encounter. The +opposite sides were open to the lake, the woods, and the castle. + + + THE SECOND DAY. + +In the morn, next after the King came to Kenilworth, there was tilting +in the great yard of the castle, at which his Highness, with the Queen +and her court, were present. This was the day of Turney; but, although +this noble company made a goodly show, they were not apparelled with +that splendour they showed on the chief day, as will be hereafter +rehearsed. + +Among the ladies of the court, none surpassed for beauty the lady +Barbara, daughter of the Earl of Huntingdon and a favourite damsel of +the Queen; her the King intended to bestow in marriage, during his +sojourn in Ardenn. She was innocent and graceful, as the fawns that +bound in our forest, and excelled in all the accomplishments of the +court. She had fixed her heart on Sir Gaston de Blondeville, a young +knight of the King’s household, who had entreated her of her father in +vain; for, though he was of a good family, it was a foreign one, being +of the Queen’s country, and he had little besides the favour of his +master to depend on. The youth was of a comely person and gallant +bearing; well practised in all martial exercises of war, of which he had +given some proof in exploits, and had latterly so much displayed himself +in a fierce adventure against some of King Henry’s rebellious subjects, +beyond sea, that his Highness had incontinently advanced him to be one +of his own knights. Moreover, the King, on hearing of his ill-faring +suit, had taken that matter into his special cognizance; and the King +knew so well how to command the earl, that he consented to give his +daughter to the knight, and his Highness determined the marriage should +be solemnized forthwith. + +But, on this very first day, after his arrival, his spirit was ruffled +by a strange accident. As his Highness was returning from the Tilt-yard, +accompanied by the Queen, and attended by the whole court, his harpers +playing before him, a stranger came forth of the crowd, and falling at +his feet, called out boldly for justice. Many there present knew him for +the man who, the night before, had showed such striking signs of a +disturbed mind; and now, noting his unseemly vehemence, they stopped and +asked for what offence he demanded justice. The King, too, remembered +him; and listening what he should say, the man, observing that, +addressed his looks and his voice eagerly to him, and exclaimed, that he +demanded justice upon robbers and murderers who infested the highways of +his kingdom with more violence and frequency than was ever known before, +so that none of his peaceable subjects were safe from them. + +The King, seeing the wildness of his look and the strangeness of his +gesture, guessed the man was not rightly himself; yet he commanded him +forthwith into the castle, there to wait, till he should speak with him, +or order some others to do so; and the procession passed on. + +Meanwhile, the King determined not to leave this matter, till he should +have seen something more about it, with his own discernment. He went +speedily into the white hall, which was the court of justice, keeping +only a few of his nobles and other attendants, where he summoned the +stranger before him, and had question put to him, who he was and of what +particular grievance he had to complain. + +The man answered, that his name was Hugh Woodreeve, a merchant of +Bristol: and then he told his story—that, three years before, travelling +with a very large sum of money in his possession, and, being in company +with three other travellers, two of them merchants of good repute, and +the other a kinsman of his own, they were attacked in the forest of +Ardenn, when about two miles from Kenilworth, and robbed of nearly all +they carried. They did not part with it quietly, it was so much. His +kinsman, however, was the only one of the party that had good arms; he +had served in the wars, and he now manfully resisted the ruffians, who +directed most of their vengeance to him; he was murdered on the spot; +for the rest of his company, they escaped with some hurts. No one of the +robbers was killed, but two or three were wounded. + +Here the merchant stopped and seemed ready to sink. His Highness, having +declared his indignation at this villany, assured the merchant, that +justice should be done upon the guilty, if they could be found, and +asked whether he could swear to them, if he should see them again. The +stranger straight replied, that he could truly swear to the murderer, +and that he had seen him in the very court, nay, that he saw him at that +very instant, standing even beside the King’s chair. + +King Henry, struck with astonishment, fixed his eyes sternly on the +stranger, for a moment, and then looked at those around him. On his +right hand, was his son, Prince Edward, and, on his left, his young +favourite, Gaston de Blondeville, upon whom all eyes were fastened; for +to him the answer pertayned, and to him the accuser pointed, with a look +of horror, which convinced every one present, except his Highness, he +did indeed believe he saw before him the murderer of his friend, whether +his fancy deceived him, or not. For the King himself, he inclined to +think the accuser was either disordered in his mind, or that, from some +unknown cause, he was the enemy of Sir Gaston; and his Highness knew +well of the unreasonable and deadly abhorrence, in which many of his +subjects of Britain held some of those strangers from France, who had +risen into favour. + +At the boldness of this accusation, Sir Gaston stood, at first, like one +stricken with dismay; then, moving his hand towards his sword, he said, +“but for the presence of the King, my master, I should soon avenge me +for so foul a slander.” + +To which the merchant, now much more tranquil than he had been, said, +“The same reason must restrain all; but I do not need it: I would not +set my life against that of an assassin! I ask for justice from his +Highness.” + +At these words, Sir Gaston was hardly withheld from his accuser. King +Henry commanded silence: and, as soon as all noise had ceased, he turned +with a severe countenance to the stranger, and said, “Know you not, that +he, whom you accuse is a knight of my household, advanced to honour for +his valour?” + +“Yea, noble King Henry,” replied the merchant, “I have heard so; but, I +repeat, he is the man who killed my kinsman! I never can forget that +face: if I had met him in a distant land, I should have seized him for +the murderer!” + +The King, more fully convinced of the unsoundness of his mind, said, +“Your passion has deceived you; thus far I am willing to pardon you; if +you go farther, you must be taught what it is to dishonour a gentleman +and a knight.” + +Upon this, the merchant fell at the King’s feet; and, with uplifted +hands, again cried out for justice! Henry, hardly less astonished at the +resolution of the man, than that one of his household should be thus +accused, (although he might have bethought him of the law he had himself +found it expedient to make heretofore at Kenilworth, respecting +robberies then committed in a very extraordinary manner on the +highways)—King Henry, though astonished, began to doubt. He fixed a +look, in which there was somewhat of inquiry, upon Sir Gaston, whose +visage was pale, though his eye was fierce; but who may say, whether +fear or anger maketh some men pale? + +The King held it to be the last; a momentary doubt had entered his mind; +but he promptly dismissed it. His Highness was commanding, that the +stranger should be removed; and, for the present, confined in the +castle; when Prince Edward, who, young as he was, had closely observed +all that had passed, craved humbly of the King, his father, to suffer +the merchant to be further questioned; and the King consented thereto. + +Then the man was asked, whether he could tell the year and the month, +when the robbery he spoke of had been committed. He was ready enough +with his answers, and said it was on the eighteenth of October, in the +year twelve hundred and fifty-three, and on the chase; that he was sure +of the time, because it was within three days of that, when he should +have paid to a goldsmith the most part of the money, whereof he was +robbed. Upon this, the King seemed to consider awhile, for he knew, +that, about that time, a camp lay in the neighbourhood of Warwick and on +the edge of the forest, and that Sir Gaston was there, he being then +serving as esquire to Sir Pierse Mallory. + +At the last words of the merchant, Sir Gaston moved towards the King, as +though he would privily say something; but his Highness reproved him +with a frown; and asked the merchant at what hour the robbery was +committed, and what were the array and appearance of the robbers? + +The knight interrupting the reply, then said aloud, “Sire! I entreat +you, be mindful of the condition of disgrace, in which I must stand, if +you seem to give countenance to this scandalous accusation. I know not, +that I shall be able to breathe, if it be thought, that your Highness +could, for one minute, think it possible I could have committed so foul +a deed.” + +King Henry, looking kindly upon him said, “It is right you should be +cleared with those, who know you not so well as I do; and chiefly with +those, who love not men of your country; and, therefore, would I examine +this witless charge to the uttermost.” His Highness then made all his +questions over again. + +The merchant considered awhile, and somewhat of his boldness seemed to +forsake him: he then answered, “the number of the robbers was three; +they were most of them tall in stature; they wore cloaks about them, and +had masks on their faces.” + +“Masks?” said the King. + +“Masks!” murmured the courtiers, with one voice. + +The King, daunting the accuser with the anger of his countenance, said, +“You could swear to this knight, as one of the robbers, and yet you say, +he had a mask on his face! I suspect you now for an impostor more than +for a moody man. If it prove so, tremble! for I swear by my sword you +shall not escape. I give you one more warning, to stop before you +totally plunge into your ruin.” + +At these words, delivered with vehemence, the paleness left Sir Gaston’s +face, and he made a profound obeisance, showing his gratitude to the +King. The accuser, dismayed, could not immediately find his voice, as it +seemed. Haply, he could not so speedily send back his thoughts to the +rest of his story. Incontinently, the most of the assemblage began to +look ychon in other’s face. + +By-and-bye, the merchant said, that in the struggle between his +companions and the robbers, two of the vizors fell off, and so he saw +plainly the faces of the robbers, and he perfectly remembered the face +of the knight. His Highness, without telling his thoughts on this, which +many there present scrupled not to hold an after-invention of the +accuser, commanded him to begin his tale anew, and to tell, one by one, +every particular he could bring to mind of the alleged adventure; but +before he began, Sir Gaston, surveying him, asked whether, about four +years back, he was not at Embrun, in the Dauphiné. + +Denying, that he had been at that place, the accuser then renewed his +story, which purported, that he and his companions were travelling, +about the close of day, through the forest, or chase, of Kenilworth, +when they were attacked by robbers. He was bidden to repeat the number +of them and of his company, which he did, without varying his tale. The +King asked how long after sunset it was when the assault began? which he +could not readily tell; but said it was so nearly dark, that hardly +could he see the figures of the robbers under the shade of the woods, +from which they burst: the merchant paused a moment— + +“Go on,” said the King, impatiently:— + +“But I could, afterwards, see them plainly enough by a torch I took from +my companions, who had lighted it, at a smith’s in a village by the +way-side; an iron-smith’s.” + +The King asked him if he knew the name of this village, but he knew it +not; and whether he should know the smith again? and he answered, he +thought he should. Then he was ordered to proceed with his story: + +“My kinsman,” said he, “was the only one of us, who was well-armed; and +a braver spirit never lived. He fought with his sword that man, who now +stands beside your Highness; it was a trusty weapon, and had done him +good service in Syria, where he had it for booty, after a skirmish, as I +heard. When my kinsman first made up to that man, I followed him with +the torch, and to aid him, as I might, with an oaken staff I had in my +hand; but I received a blow upon the arm, that held the torch, which was +knocked to the ground, and the vizor of the man fell also, that very +man, who now presses behind your Highness’s chair. The torch was not +extinguished, and, by its light, I plainly saw that same countenance, +that now glares upon me so vengefully. I saw it while he aimed the blow, +which penetrated the head of my unfortunate kinsman, Reginald de +Folville.” + +The merchant paused, seemingly overcome by the remembrance of this +event, while Sir Gaston exclaimed,—“Was it Reginald de Folville? He was +esquire to a knight of Saint John, and was then at Lydda: so much for +the truth of your story in that main point.” + +At the first words of Sir Gaston, the King and the courtiers had turned +their faces upon him; but though his words were so strong and +sufficient, they beheld in his countenance paleness and consternation. +But he soon recovered; and, asking pardon of his Highness for the +emotion with which he had spoken, accounted for it by saying, that +Reginald de Folville had been his earliest friend. + +“Your father’s friend, you must surely mean,” said the merchant; “for he +was at the wars at a time, that would have made that possible. You must +have been a child, when he went there.” + +“I _was_ then a child,” said Sir Gaston, averting his eyes from the +stranger; “and I must ever remember the kindness he showed me after the +death of my father; I owe him much. He went from Provence to Syria; I +heard he fell in battle there. Sure I am he never returned: he died in +battle there.” + +“He died in the forest of Ardenn,” said the merchant with solemnity, +“and lies buried in the priory of Saint Mary here. He died by your hand: +that is his very sword by your side; I remember it now.” + +The audacity of this assertion struck all present and none more than the +King himself. His Highness desired to examine the sword, and asked the +merchant why he had not sooner challenged it; to which he answered +nothing. Sir Gaston, as he delivered it on his knee to the King, +said—“If I know my accuser, which I think I do, he is no stranger to +this weapon: he knows well that I usually wear it; but it never belonged +to Reginald de Folville. My liege, it was my father’s sword; he won it +in the plains of Palestine.” + +The King examined it with attention. It was of eastern shape and finely +wrought. In the hilt were a few jewels. Prince Edward, as he leaned over +it, pointed out to his father a motto in an unknown tongue; and then, at +some distance below it, a date, with the Roman letters, H. A., +remarking, that probably these letters alluded to some exploit achieved +in the year noted. The King addressed himself to Sir Gaston for the +meaning of the motto and of these letters; but he knew not their +meaning, and said they were as when his father won the sword from his +enemy. + +Then the King addressed the merchant with the same question, observing, +that, as the sword seemed to be familiar to him, he probably had been +told the signification of the letters on it. With that, the merchant was +hastily advancing to receive it of one, to whom his Highness had +delivered it; when he suddenly drew back, covered his eyes with his +hand, and stood immovable. Those near almost expected to see him fall, +as he had done before in the castle court on the night last past. Sir +Gaston, at the same time, stepping forward, presumed to take it, and to +deliver it again to the King, with these words:—“Your Highness will not +tempt the villany of this man by putting him in possession of the sword +he falsely claims.” + +But the merchant claimed it not; nor could he even endure to look upon +it. Heavy sighs burst from him, while with eyes still covered with his +hands, he said,—“That was the sword, with which the villain murdered +him; and can I endure to take it in my hand, and to look upon the blade, +on which his life blood flowed?” and he groaned more piteously than +before. + +There were some in the hall, who instantly thought this sorrow of the +merchant was a mimickry, and asked how it could happen, that his kinsman +was killed by his own weapon; to which, soon as he could recollect his +thoughts, he made answer, that the robber, on wrenching the sword from +his friend, struck him his death-wound with it. The King, returning the +sword to the young knight, bade him keep it forthcoming till he should +demand it of him again, and then said to the stranger these or such-like +words:— + +“You, a man unknown to me and to mine, and without a name, except as far +as you have declared one, have dared to come into my court, and to +accuse to me one of my own servants, a gentleman and a knight, of a +crime most foul and incredible. You have related your story, and I have +waited patiently for some evidence, that the murderer of your kinsman, +if, in truth, he were ever destroyed by violence, was Sir Gaston de +Blondeville. I find none, except your story. And in this you have not +scrupled to affirm, that you would have seized him for the murderer, +even in a distant land, though you also say, that your knowledge of his +countenance was obtained only from the sudden (and, therefore, the +uncertain) light of a torch lying on the ground, at a moment, when the +danger you were yourself exposed to, might, it may be readily believed, +have prevented you from closely observing any face whatsoever. You must +be held unworthy of credit; and I commit you into safe custody, till it +shall be discovered who you are, and who those are, who urged you to +this base accusation.” + +When his Highness had ended, they were going to convey away the merchant +from his presence, but he craved leave to speak, and it was granted. + +“My liege,” said he, “at any other than that moment of horror, I might +have seen the face of this stranger, without remembering it the next; +but the impression made, at that moment, will remain with me, as long as +the strong feelings, which then struck me, shall return with the +recollection of my kinsman’s fate. On seeing the same face, I was seized +with the same horror; your Highness’s people can be witnesses, that +yester-eve, when I saw that knight, I fell into convulsions, and was +carried senseless from your presence.” + +His Highness, remembering what had happened, and, on inquiry, finding, +that this was the very man, who had then fallen senseless, perceived, +that the merchant had not spoken this untruly. He asked again whether he +was known to any person in Kenilworth, also whether either of the +merchants, travelling in his company, at the period of the alleged +murder, was at hand. The accuser stood, for a while, bewildered, and +then repeating, that he was a stranger, having only passed through the +place, a few times, on his way to or from Coventry, said, that of his +two companions one was dead, and the other following his merchandize, in +a distant land. + +“Then,” said the King, “it appears you cannot bring any evidence of the +truth of your story; even so far, as that a robbery was actually +committed. Your accusation of this knight is, therefore, likely to be +impelled either by malice, or by some other bad motive. If it shall +prove so, dread the punishment that awaits you.” + +“My liege,” said Sir Gaston, “I think I know the man, and also his +motive. He wronged my father at Embrun; and now his malice,—but this +story is connected with family circumstances, that should only be +divulged to your Highness; and, if you will suffer me to unfold them in +private, I shall prove, not mine innocence only—for of that your +Highness does not doubt—but that man’s former and present guilt.” + +At these words, the stranger fell again on his knees, and besought aloud +justice on “a villain.” + +The King looked long upon him and upon Sir Gaston, and sat pondering +awhile. He then turned to the merchant, and, bidding him rise, asked +him, a second time, if he were not known to any one person in +Kenilworth? and received for answer, “Only as a traveller.” + +“An adventure as remarkable as that you have related,” pursued his +Highness, “must have been known here at the time it happened, and must +be remembered now. It is strange, if there be none who can recollect you +also.” + +“My lord,” observed Prince Edward, “he said his friend was buried here +in the priory. If so, the prior must know him and his strange history.” + +“Said he so?” quoth the King; and, turning to the stranger, he inquired +how it happened, that he was not known to the prior? and who it was that +commanded the burial of his kinsman. + +The merchant said, he had himself ordered it, and had conversed with a +monk and even with the Prior himself. + +“Then you are known to the Prior, at least,” said the King; “he will +surely recollect your story: let him be sent for. It is strange you +should have said you were unknown: you are either guilty of falsehood, +or your senses are unsettled.” + +The stranger raised his hand to his head and sighed. “I recollect the +Prior,” said he, “but he may not remember me.” + +“We shall see!” said the King, calmly, as he rose from his chair: “If +you are innocent, fear not! if you are guilty, you will lose your life, +in seeking that of an innocent man.” + +As his Highness left the hall, he looked somewhat sternly upon the +accuser, and commanded, that he should be held in close custody, while +more inquiry should be made. He then ordered Sir Gaston to attend him in +his privy-chamber, and so departed forth of the hall, leaving the +accuser speechless and dismayed. + +As the merchant was led through this court of the castle to the tower, +where was his prison, the lady Barbara, sitting in her bower-window +above, saw the passing crowd, and inquired the occasion of it; but none +would inform her. While she gazed with curiosity, she observed Sir +Gaston going to the King’s privy-chamber; he looked not at her window, +but went his way with a hurried step, and with such a countenance as she +had never witnessed in him, till this time. At length, word was brought +to my lady, her mother, of what had passed before his Highness. The +Earl, her father, was promptly filled with disgust; and thought the +occurrence would be sufficient to prevent the marriage, which neither +his English heart, nor his pride of ancient blood, had suffered him to +approve. His daughter, the lady Barbara, was differently minded; she +would not believe him she loved capable of even a dishonourable action, +much less of so foul a one; and, assured of his innocence, she would +have thrown herself at the King’s feet, had that seemed always, as it +did at first, proper, to urge his Highness to clear Sir Gaston instantly +from the suspicion. + +But truly the King needed no advocate for Sir Gaston de Blondeville; and +so she thought, at last. His Highness’s own inclination was sufficient; +and so angered was his generous spirit by what he held to be not only a +false, but a malicious accusation, that he had determined after proof of +this, to give a signal warning by the accuser’s doom; and this not only +to prevent other false accusations proceeding from private motives, but +to reprove and caution those of his subjects, who had a public prejudice +against strangers, and were too likely to delight in the ruin of such +especially as had risen to honours. + +The King, therefore, willingly gave audience privately to the young +knight, that he might explain to him the circumstances, which should +assure him of his innocence. What Sir Gaston told his Highness was never +assuredly known; some reports went on one side of the matter, some on +the other: there was not one witness of what passed. Who then might +know, unless they could guess by the countenances, and by what passed, +when the hearing was over? But, if they had gone by no other guide, they +would have been all for the knight, since he had made the King quite +convinced; and moreover, the Earl of Huntingdon was summoned to the +closet, where the King promised him the honour of the young knight would +always remain unsullied in his opinion; and so commanded, that the +marriage with the lady Barbara should be solemnized, as had been before +appointed, on the day next following. + +The Earl besought, nay, as some say, dared to remonstrate, that the +marriage should be postponed till the stranger should have been lawfully +convicted of falsehood; but his Highness said, “Nay; lest it should seem +that the accusation was probable enough to require such delay. It is +already well-known, as a matter agreed upon, that the nuptials are to be +held on the morrow, the preparations are nearly all made, and they are +public. It is necessary for the honour of Sir Gaston de Blondeville, +that the appointment should be kept. If you are not convinced, still you +will not be required to make disavowal of any thought you may have; for +I myself will lead your daughter to the porch, and will so, by my +presence and by this act of parental kindness, show my estimation both +of the fair bride and of him who shall become your son. Farther proof of +my regard shall not be wanting hereafter.” + +His Highness was peremptory, and the Earl, swayed by his master’s +positive opinion, and, it may be, by that promise of regard hereafter, +at last obeyed. + +While these things were passing in the King’s chamber, the unhappy +merchant was taken to a turret of the castle, called Cæsar’s Tower; and +there, with nothing but a pallet and the bare walls, was left to think +of his jeopardy. What his thoughts were I know not; but he was heard +sorely to sigh and groan, and with good reason; for, if he knew himself +perjured, he knew also, that he should find no mercy from the King; and, +if innocent, he could expect little justice against so great a +favourite. But, whatever were his meditations, they held not till night, +for he was called and led forth of the tower into the presence of the +King; and, before even-song, the Prior of Saint Mary’s was in attendance +upon his Highness. He was not an aged man, yet was he a stern one. When +he was asked whether ever before he had seen the merchant, he answered +resolutely, that he had no knowledge of him. The same question being put +to the merchant, touching his knowledge of the Prior, he returned a like +answer. + +At this seeming self-contradiction, the King could scarcely command his +anger, till it was discovered, that a Prior of Saint Mary’s had died, +since the time when the murder was alleged to have been committed, and +that it must needs be he, whom the merchant meant. + +“But, where is the monk, with whom you consulted?” asked the King; “can +you tell his name?” + +“His name was Ewdwyn,” replied the merchant. + +“He died yesternight!” said the Prior. + +At this there was a pause, and a dead silence throughout the chamber. +Sir Gaston looked darkly on his accuser; his accuser directed his eyes +to the King and then on high; but, in a short minute, he fell down, as +though he were a dying man. The King, touched at his sufferings, +commanded him from his chamber, that aid might be administered unto him. +And then, that he might know whether this accusation of Sir Gaston were +through malice, or mistake—for now pity inclined him to think the +last—and also, that Sir Gaston might have mistaken, when he took this +for the man, of whose deeds at Embrun he had talked; that he might know +the truth on all this, he ordered the Prior to make inquiry in his +community, whether the body of any person known to have been murdered in +the forest of Ardenn, three years before, had been deposited in the +chapel, or in the cemetery of the convent. Likewise, he commanded the +Prior to have inquiry made in Kenilworth, whether any person remembered +such an accident, or any house had received the dead body. And this he +ordered, that it might always be seen he had desired to have justice +done towards the wretched merchant, as well as for Sir Gaston de +Blondeville. + +This being appointed, the King departed to his great chamber, there to +keep his state; the Prior to his convent, to resume his spiritual +musings; the accused lover to his mistress; and the merchant was +conveyed to his prison tower. + +The King kept state, that night, with the Earl of Cornwall, the +Archbishop of York, the Bishop of Winchester, the Bishop of Lincoln, +Henry de Wernham, his chaplain, who also had the custody of the Great +Seal, the Earl of Norfolk, the Earl of Hereford and a number of other +nobles of the realm; but the Queen kept her state apart. + +The King’s great chamber was marvellous to behold. There were +twenty-five wax-lights held by esquires of the household, all in the +King’s livery, gentils as they were; also twenty-five wax torches were +fixed high up over the tapestry. The walls were, that night, gorgeous +with the story of Troy-town in ancient tapestries; there you might see +the flames burning and the towers falling, and old King Priam, with +beard as white as snow, his crown upon his head, and his Queen Hecuba +tearing her dishevelled locks for grief. And there was that renowned +son, who carried off his aged father, with his little child holding by +his garment, and his wife following, all disconsolate. This was a +piteous sight to see pourtrayed; but that it were nothing save a heathen +story. + +The floor of that chamber was not strewed either with rushes or with +litter of any sort, but was laid in little checquers of divers colours; +and, where his Highness sat, under his cloth of state, was spread a +silken carpet of full crimson, fringed about with gold, as likewise his +chair and canopy of estate. But the finest sight was the cupboards, +piled up with plates and cups of gold and silver, in readiness for the +King, when he should take his VOIDE. These were in that great Oriel, +which his Highness had newly made in this chamber, before the bay; and +which was closed about with painted glass from the highest cup-board to +the arched roof, where hung a silver lamp, that made the whole glow with +its light. + +There were, that night, playing in the chamber, the King’s twelve +minstrels, all clothed, for his honour and dignity, in sumptuous livery, +with their virger to order their pipyngs and blowings. There were, +besides, the children of the chapel singing, at times, from the brown +gallery; so that, the doors being open, you might have heard them +through all that side of the castle; and those, who sat afar off in the +great hall, needed none other music. + +There also was Maister Henry, the versifier, whose ballad of the Giant +of Cornwall was this night rehearsed to the harp by Richard, the King’s +harper, as was his famous Chronicle of Charlemagne, which lasted, till +his Highness was well nigh weary, when he jocularly called out, having +tasted of his golden cup, that Henry should have a butt of wine with his +wages, if he would shorten his ballads by one-half. Maister Henry, who +was a Frenchman, took this in good part, and, having especial care ever +after to make his ballads nigher to too short than too long, became, in +time, a notable rhymer. But let those do so who can. Some are famous one +way, some another; for mine own part, I must be circumstantial, or else +nothing, as this “Trew Chronique” in due time must show. + +That night, the King played at “Checkere” with the Earl of Norfolk, on a +board laid with jasper and chrystal, the check-men being of the same. +Some said the king’s and queens were of ebony, studded over with jewels, +but of this I know not. + +But, the finest sight of all was the going of the chamberlain to the +cup-board, accompanied of three nobles of the highest estate in the +realm, that were there present, (save the King’s family) to receive the +King’s cup and spice-plates; and then the bringing up of the voide +before his Highness. And, first, the usher, having assembled the King’s +sewers, their towels about their necks, with the four esquires of the +body and the knights and esquires of the household, to the number of +seventeen; these, with divers other officers, being met at the +cup-board, the Chamberlain took the King’s towel, and, having kissed it, +as the custom is, delivered it to the Earl of Norfolk, he being of the +highest estate, who reverently received the same, and laid it safely +upon his shoulder. Then, the said chamberlain gave the gold spice-plates +covered to the Earl of Hereford; and then the King’s cup of massive +gold, covered also, to the Earl of Warwick. At the same time were given +to the knights of the household the Archbishop’s spice-plate and cup, +covered also, to be carried up, by the space of one minute after the +King’s. + +And, certes, it was a goodly sight to see all these nobles and gentils +marching up the great chamber (the minstrels playing the while), +compassed about with esquires, bearing great lights to the number of +thirteen, especial care being taken, as the manner all times has been at +the voide, that the lights were odd in number. + +First, then, went the usher, with his torch and rod, making passage; the +chamberlain, with his chain and wand of office; then the five esquires, +of the body, bearing wax-lights before the Earl of Norfolk, with the +towel; then, three esquires about the Lord of Hereford, bearing the +spice-plates; then, other three before the Lord Warwick, bearing the +King’s cup covered; then followed one knight of the household, bearing a +single torch; so making up altogether the just number of lights. Amongst +them went four knights of the household, well renowned for bravery and +noble bearing, with the Archbishop’s spice-plate and cup. + +When this array drew near to the King, he, standing up under his cloth +of estate, which was rolled up high, with the young Prince Edward on one +hand and the Archbishop on the other, the Chamberlain taking the covers +from off the spice-plates, gave assaye unto the Earl of Gloucester. The +King, before he took his spice, made a beck to the Archbishop, that he +should take his first; and the knights having advanced, as they well +knew would be seemly, the Archbishop forthwith obeyed. + +But, when the Chamberlain uncovered the cup, all the minstrels in the +chamber blew up louder than ever, and so held on till his Highness took +the ypocras, so that every roof in the castle rung with joy. + +The King and Archbishop being served, his Highness’s cup and +spice-plates were again covered, but not so the Archbishop’s. Then were +the spice and cup carried to Prince Edward and the Earl of Cornwall, by +the knights; to the bishops by the esquires of the household, and to the +other estates by the esquires also. Which being done, his Highness +forthwith departed for “all night,” the trumpets blowing before him. +Then, were three healths drank, one to the King, one to the Queen, and +one to the Prince Edward; after which it were not meet, that the +assemblage should remain, and straight the great chamber was avoyded of +all there present. + +The Queen, that night, sat in her bower with all her ladies. There were +mynstrelsy and dancing to the harp and viol. The Lady Barbara was the +marveil of all, that beheld her moving to the sound of viols like unto +some sprite, rather than to a poor mortal. Prince Edward danced with her +a round, and the Queen often honoured her with her pleasing speech. Sir +Gaston, though he beheld her, showed not his wonted joy. He stood apart +looking on, and, when her Highness spoke to him, he seemed nigh to +senseless of the honour. + +The dancing being ended, Pierre, a Norman and the Queen’s chief +minstrel, apparelled in the guise of his country, sang some of his +ballads on the harp, in his own tongue, which, albeit, they were not +esteemed like unto Maister Henry’s, yet did they not displease. The +first tuning was in words which have been thus rendered into English by +one, who had learned much of the new speech, not then familiar, except +with some few. + + THE BRIDAL. + + Lightly, lightly, bounded the roe, + The hind o’er the forest was fleeing; + The small birds tuned on every bough, + In sun and shade their gleeing. + + And purple cups, and silver bells + From the green leaves were peeping; + The wild-rose smiled in the mossy dells: + Nought but the thorn was weeping. + + And so bright in the sun its tears did shine, + They showed like tears of pleasure; + And the airs of May, through the budding spray, + Breathed joyance, without measure. + + For this was Isabel’s bridal morn + Who loved each bud and flower, + The wild-wood shade, the mountain head, + The deep vale’s mead and bower. + + And now was her festival gaily kept + By hagled brook and fountain, + From the low green bank, where the violet slept, + To the blue hill-top and mountain. + + And lightly, lightly, bounded the roe, + His footstep wing’d with pleasure, + And small birds sang from every bough, + Welcomes beyond all measure. + +At the end of this ballad, the minstrel rang out his harp in full +joyance; and then, falling note by note, he dropped into a faltering +murmur, as of deep sorrow, and so continued for some space, till those +who heard him, perceived the witch of melancholy stealing upon them. + +The Queen, deeming such strain unsuitable to the time, commanded him to +change the measure, and sound forth one more gay, a lay of Provence, her +native land, whither she knew he had been for his learning; but he, +enthralled by the magic of his own mood, loving not to be commanded, +still hung his head over the harp, listening to that pleasure-full +melancholy and heeding nothing but its sweet sound. + +At last, being made to know fully her Highness’s will, he sang the song +of a Troubadour; for, though he loved best the ditties of Normandy, his +own land, there was scarce one of Provence, which he had not gained; and +the Queen did not let him forget them, so often did she command those, +which she affected best. And now he sang forth to his harp a “roundel” +in the Provençal tongue, made by a knight of the “Order of Fine Eyes.” +They, who then heard him, would have thought he loved any thing less +than melancholy, so light and debonnaire was the music he rang out; and +many could hardly keep their steps from dancing to that gallant measure. +But it lasted not long; for, making a pause and looking wistfully at the +Lady Barbara, he struck forth, on a sudden, some of his deepest tones, +with a wild yet solemn grace, such as brought tears into the eyes of +many a fair lady, and darted dread into the heart of one there present. +It seemed as if the shadows of prophecy were moving over the strings, +and calling from them some strange and fearful story yet to be. And then +again did the harper’s voice steal trembling forth, as do the moon’s +beams, when pale clouds pass over, saddening, but not fully obscuring +their brightness: yet might every one hear plainly all his words. Here +it is done into English by the same hand; but the verses be not all +divided into equal numbers:— + + I. + O’er the high western wolds afar, + Glimmer’d some lights of yesterday; + And there, one bright, but trembling star + Among the streaky shadows lay, + The traveller’s lonely warning. + But soon the winds, that sing day’s dirge, + Did o’er that star the shadows urge, + And hung the night with mourning! + + + II. + + “What steps on the waste are beating?” + He listened not long on the ground, + ’Ere he fearfully heard a sound, + As of trampling hoofs retreating: + And a dismal cry and a foot draw nigh; + “Stand ho!” ’twas an armed man passed by: + But he spoke no sound of greeting, + And seemed like a death-shade fleeting. + + + III. + + O’er the lone mountains riding, + He gallop’d by gloomsome ways, + Where night-mists were abiding, + Round the witch of evil days: + Her name is written on the wind, + That speaks in cliffs and caves confin’d. + List there when the waning moon goes down, + And thou’lt hear the call her spirits own; + But as they pass, hold a chrystal glass, + Or thou’lt sorely rue the wild witch-tone. + + + IV. + + O’er the lone mountains riding, + From a distant land he came, + No step his dark step guiding; + But he thought he saw a flame, + That bright, or dim, would sport awhile; + Then vanish, as in very guile; + He heard, as he passed, the witch-name sound; + And his startled steed, at a single bound, + Bore him away from that evil ground. + + + V. + + But o’er the mountains pacing + As fast as he can flee, + Strange steps his steps are tracing, + And a shape he cannot see; + And, though he flee away, so prest, + Whether to north, or south or west, + Toward the past, or coming day, + (So dim the night he may not say) + Still oft by fits did ghastly gleam, + A corpse-light, all unknown to him. + + + VI. + + He followed the light o’er deserts wide, + Down in deep glens, where wild becks wail; + He followed by darkened forest side; + He followed with dread, though link’d in mail; + Till it stayed before an iron gate, + Where battled turrets kept their state, + O’er towers so high and massy strong, + They seemed to giant-king belong. + + + VII. + + Sir Adomar looked him all around: + Turret on turret hung on high, + Shaping black lines on the dim sky; + Sir Adomar looked him all around; + Nought, save this castle, could he spy, + Though, heavily clanged a death-bell’s sound; + And in each pause of the shuddering blast, + Moans were heard as of one from ’neath the ground! + + + VIII. + + He struck on the gate with his good sword: + “Ho! wardour, ho!” but never a word + Return’d the wardour from within. + “The storm is loud, the night is dark, + I hear from the woods the dog-wolf bark. + Up, wardour, up! it were a sin + To turn a traveller from your tower, + At such a lone and dreary hour; + A Saracen would let me in!” + + + IX. + + The wardour was watching through the loop, + How many were of the stranger’s troop. + He had left his torch in the cullis’ bar, + And it let down a light on the lonely night, + That showed him harnessed, as for war. + His coat was mail, his helm was steel; + His visor did his look reveal; + Yet o’er his brow it cast a shade, + That made the wardour more afraid, + Than did the crimsoned plume above, + Or the mighty grasp of his iron glove. + He would not let the stranger in, + Till one, awakened by the din— + One whom the wardour need obey— + Seeing a lonely knight stand there, + Bade the wardour nought to fear: + He feared still, but he said not Nay: + Yet he would not ope the portal gate + To an unknown knight, without his state; + For neither squire, nor page, he saw: + He bade him then to the postern draw. + + + X. + + The knight dismounted at the call; + The porter let him through the wall; + He turned the weary steed to stall, + And led the knight to the lordly hall. + I’ the lordly hall, so wide and dim, + One drowsy squire awaited him. + The ashy wood lay, white and cold, + On the raised hearth, where late was told, + With fiery eye and accent loud, + The deed of martial prowess proud; + Where late was told, in whispers low, + Some tale of terror and of woe, + The while each listener bent his head, + Nor lost a word the trouveur said: + Till fear crept o’er each nerve and vein, + That late had swell’d to martial strain; + And shadows crept along the wall, + Such as the sinful soul appal: + Till each, who heard, look’d round with dread, + And saw some phantom of the dead. + + + XI. + + Now silent was the hearth and lone, + Save that a stag-hound slumber’d there. + The tables in disorder were, + With relics of the evening fare; + The household to their rest were gone, + And now no light was seen but one, + The light that led the stranger on; + That show’d above steel armour gleaming, + And many a dusky banner streaming, + From the black rafters of the roof, + In the night-wind, far aloof, + Like to some flitting phantom seeming; + And, stalking o’er the rushy floor, + It showed the knight where steps of gore + Had stain’d its green, with foot-prints red. + And the stag-hound, as the knight passed by, + Sent forth a mournful fearful cry. + + + XII. + + The drowsy squire the stranger led; + (The wardour to his post was sped.) + They traversed the hall in silent march: + At the end was a door in a mitred arch. + The knight stood before that mitred door, + And gazed on a warrior shape above, + That seem’d to watch the passage o’er. + In his altered look strange passions strove! + The armoured shape leaned on its sword, + And downward bent its steely face, + As jealous who below might pace, + Or about to speak the challenge-word; + And it seemed the very form of one, + The knight perforce must look upon. + + + XIII. + + Thus, while he stood in wonder-trance, + The squire upheld the torch on high, + Viewing the guest with watchful eye; + And marvelling what strange mischance + So check’d his step, and fix’d his glance:— + “Sir knight, why gaze you on that steel? + It is a baron’s good and bold; + Had he been here, no welcome cold + Would he have shown a stranger-knight, + Who trusted to his towers at night.” + + + XIV. + + The spell of fant’sie loos’d awhile, + The knight return’d a grateful smile, + With thanks for this so courteous style; + And, then with thoughtful accent said, + While yet he stood, that shape before, + “The armour some resemblance had + To that of a dear friend no more! + A friend!”—he paus’d,—“a friend long dead!” + This, while he said, his colour fled. + The squire seem’d not to note his pain, + But, with fair speech, began again + Excuse to make for slender fare, + That it was night, and, not aware + Of honour’d guest approaching there, + The menials to their rest had gone; + A chamber should be fitted soon. + His squire and page should welcom’d be; + Right well he longed that squire to see. + + + XV. + + The wearied knight a gesture made, + And looked his thanks, but nothing said; + Save that, for rest alone he prayed. + He sighed, as through that guarded arch, + And vaulted gloom, he held his march; + And there, before his doubting sight, + Glided again a pale sad light, + Full often he had seen with fear, + Yet more he felt to meet it here. + Then came they to an iron door, + And the knight beheld that flame no more. + It opened to a second hall, + Where warriors frowned upon the wall; + And ladies smiled in portraiture, + With downcast eye and look demure. + An umbered flash the red torch threw, + Athwart each warrior’s steadfast brow; + And hardly might the gleam declare + A baron grim from lady fair. + + + XVI. + + There is no need that I should tell, + What hasty fare the stranger took; + Nor how the squire, with silent look, + Watched, wondering, what had him befell; + So strangely gleamed his hollow eyes, + From forth the lifted beaver’s shade + So wan his lips, like one that dies, + So few the words and thanks he paid! + + + XVII. + + Though round the hall his looks would steal, + Not well did torch or lamp reveal + The portraiture of warriors grim, + Or noble dames hung there so dim; + Their frowns and smiles were lost to him. + But once, when that he turned his head + Where the fix’d torch a gleaming shed, + A sable form, ill seen at most, + Went gliding up a stair, on high, + Passed through an open gallery, + And through a door-way there was lost, + That seemed to lead to antient rooms, + Such as where silence dwells, and glooms. + The knight, he felt a sudden chill, + Though nought he said of what had sped; + But the spicy draught he deeply quaff’d, + Whenever the page his cup did fill. + And from his spirits chaced the ill. + + + XVIII. + + The night-cheer o’er, the page led on + The stranger to his resting-place. + He led the way, that form had gone: + On the high stair he stood a space, + Waiting the knight’s reluctant pace, + Then, with mute reverence, marshalled him + Through many a gallery, long and dim, + Where helmets watched, in order grim; + Through many a chamber, wide and lorn, + Where wint’ry damps had half withdrawn + The storied paintings on the wall. + Electra, o’er her brother’s urn, + There bent the head, and seemed to mourn; + There, too, as meet in room and hall, + Troy’s tale[2] and Hector’s piteous fall: + Here Priam’s Court, in purple and pall, + Its golden splendour now had lost; + But Helen, on the rampart stood, + And pointed to the Grecian host, + Out-stretching to the briny flood. + Here Hector’s wife sat in her bower, + Waiting her lord’s returning hour; + And ‘broidering ’midst her maiden train, + While her infant played with silken skein. + There—but it boots not that I say, + What stories once, in long array, + Lived on those walls, now ghastly clay. + +Footnote 2: + + The “Tale of Troy” appears to have been a very favourite subject in + ancient tapestry. It occurs often in old castles, and is mentioned + twice in this “Trew Chronique,” as adorning the walls of stately + chambers. + +XIX. + + The knight would oft, as he strode by, + Cast on their shade a searching eye; + And pause, as list’ning some drear sound, + That rose within the glimmering bound: + And start, as though some fearful sight + Passed along this gloom of night; + But, at a lesser winding stair, + (The long drawn chambers ended there,) + When to that narrow stair he drew, + He thought a robe of mourning hue + Went fleeting up that winding way; + No glimpse had he of shape or ray; + No foot he heard the stair ascend. + Yet still that seeming garment passed, + As though some fiend, with evil haste, + Did up that lonely tower wend. + + + XX. + + The knight, he stood on the step below— + “Whither, my young page, dost thou go? + Who dwells within this lonely tower, + Passing with speed, in sable weed— + Passing with speed, at this dead hour?” + “Nobody, save the raven-crow, + Dwells within this lonely tower; + And here, Sir knight, is your resting-bower!” + “But in this tower I may not rest, + Till I know who that stair has pressed; + Did you not see that black weed wave?” + “Yes, knight, I saw the raven’s wing, + Glint up that wall with sudden spring: + And hark! you now may hear him crave!” + + + XXI. + + “It is not courteous, that my bower + Should be within this ruin’d tower!” + “But see, knight, ’tis not in decay; + The storm hath blown a bar away, + And the raven through the loop doth stray; + His nest is wet on the battlement grey: + Your chamber is a stately room, + Hung round with work of choicest loom; + And erst it was the resting-place + Of our dear Lady Baroness, + Before she went to stranger-land. + My lord yet strays on foreign strand. + The chamber has another stair, + Leading to many chambers fair; + But no step goes by night so far, + Since my lord baron went to war.” + + + XXII. + + The page stept on with torch before, + Far as that stately chamber’s door. + “Page! lift that light—fain would I know, + Whither that second flight doth go?” + “It goes to a battlement up on high, + And to a turret perching by.” + “Doth none keep watch on that turret high?” + “None, but the raven with his cry! + Your rest, Sir knight, he will not break; + To traitors only doth he speak. + They say he scents the new spilt blood.” + Upon the stair the raven stood! + He turn’d his dark eye on the knight, + And, screaming, upward winged his flight. + The wondering page looked back with fright, + And met the stranger’s fiery glance; + Then, hardly daring to advance, + Lingered he at that chamber-door; + “On,” said the knight, “with torch before!” + Scarce was the page the threshhold o’er, + When check he made, and pale he turn’d; + Dim and more dim the torch-flame burn’d. + The knight look’d on, but nothing saw, + That might explain this sudden awe. + + + XXIII. + + A spacious chamber there was spread, + And, for his rest, a stately bed; + Fresh rushes on the floor were strewn; + Faint on the arras’d walls were shown + The heroes of some antient story, + Now faded, like their mortal glory. + Another form, as dark as doom, + Stood within that chamber’s gloom, + Unseen by those who entered there. + His cause of dread the page thus said: + “Methought I saw, within that chair, + The baron’s self, my very lord; + I saw it, on a true man’s word: + I saw my lord return’d from far, + Arrayed, as he went forth to war! + He fixed his very eyes on me, + But looked not, as he wont to look. + Yet now no living shape I see, + And know that here he could not be; + For, long since, he these walls forsook: + Yet is it strange such visions pale, + Should o’er my waking sight prevail.” + + + XXIV. + + “Whose are these antient walls, I pray?” + The sullen stranger ’gan to say: + “Sir, know you not these towers and halls + Watch where the foaming Conway falls? + Who should these walls and towers own? + And the wide woods and forest round, + Even to Snowdon’s utmost bound, + Save the brave lord of Eglamore?” + The knight explained his ignorance, + He was a wanderer late from France. + The page surveyed him o’er again; + He thought the wily knight did feign: + A deadly hue was on his cheek; + His looks spoke more than words may speak. + Yet to the page, though much it told, + He read not all it might unfold. + + + XXV. + + The knight perceived his doubting thought, + And drew a badge forth from his breast; + Some noble Order’s golden crest, + Upon a field of silver wrought. + “This badge,” he said, “with blood was bought.” + He turn’d with haughty frown away. + The page did not more doubt betray; + But service offered to undo + His casque and linked harness true; + But the stranger gravely said him Nay, + And refused that night to disarray. + + + XXVI. + + Wondering, yet fearing to demand, + Why to these towers from distant land, + The knight had come, without his train, + Pondered the youth his doubts again; + Again, as though his thoughts he read, + The knight look’d sternly down and said, + “My squire and my foot-page I missed + At night-fall, when the woods betwixt. + But they perchance may shelter find, + From this bitter-blowing wind, + In the deep hollow of some hill, + Till the dawn break, and the storm be still.” + + + XXVII. + + “But the wolf bays in the blast afar; + Sir knight, how may they scape such war? + I hear him now—he nearer howls! + Mercy! mercy! save their souls!” + “Hark!” said the knight, and stood aghast; + It was no wolf-howl in the blast; + It was a blood-hound’s dreadful bay, + The stranger heard, with such dismay— + The blood-hound at the tower below; + That over pathless hill and dale, + Had tracked a murderer in the gale, + And came to claim his master’s foe. + While listening to the lengthen’d yell, + The stranger seemed to hear his knell. + “A blood-hound loose, and at this hour! + Your rest, sir knight, had ill been kept; + Nor one within these gates had slept, + Had I been in my distant tower.” + The page he lighted a lamp on high; + The stranger stifled scarce a sigh, + That heavily for utterance pressed. + He heard the page’s steps descend, + And go where the long chambers bend, + Down to the halls, and th’ outer walls. + The page knew not the chance he ran; + He was marked with the blood of a murder’d man! + + + XXVIII. + + The knight, he listened in silent dread, + Till now, the blood-hound’s voice was stilled; + But soon a low voice near him sped, + That every nerve with horror thrilled. + He looked the way that lone voice came, + And saw, by the lamp’s tall spiring flame, + A portraiture on the wall beneath, + Of noble dame, that seemed to breathe. + Robed in sable weeds was she: + The gleam fell on that lady’s brow; + There, written dimly, you might see, + The characters of hopeless woe. + + + XXIX. + + Soon as that lady’s face he saw, + All other dread his heart forsook; + He gazed with fixt and frenzied awe, + And vainly tried away to look: + For to his fearful sight it seemed, + As though her eyes on his were bent; + And, where the pale flame wavering gleamed, + As if her varying cheek were blent + With lights and shades of death; + While round her lips a grim smile drew, + And the rose paled that on them blew; + And, with faint lingering breath, + “Prepare,” she said, “thy hour is nigh! + Unpitying, thou hast seen me die; + Unpitied be thy mortal sigh!” + + + XXX. + + He heard the words—the words alone; + He heard not that deep solemn groan; + He heard not the clang of the ‘larum bell, + Nor from the gates that horn-blast swell; + Nor heard the many-trampling hoofs, + Nor voices calling in the gale, + And ringing round the castle roofs, + Till they made the ’battled raven quail; + Nor heard the funeral shriek, that broke + Through every hall and lofty tower; + He heard alone the words she spoke. + + + XXXI. + + Nor saw he in the court below, + By the torches’ umbered glow, + Borne upon his bleeding bier, + With wounds unclosed and open eyes, + A warrior stretched in death draw near; + Nor heard the loud and louder cries, + This piteous sight of horror drew + From every friend and vassal true. + But he knew that voice at his chamber-door, + And straight the witch-veil of glamour + Falls, and his wonder-trance is o’er. + He hears his summons in that sound; + It is the bark of the true blood-hound. + True to his murdered lord is he; + He has traced the steps he could not see— + Traced them o’er darkened miles and miles, + O’er glen and mountain, wood and moor, + Through all their swift and winding wiles, + Till he stopped before his master’s door, + And bayed the murderer in his bower. + + + XXXII. + + The castle gates were strait unbarred, + And he sprang before his bleeding lord; + He passed the page unheeded by, + And tracked the stranger’s steps on high; + Till at the door, that closed him in, + Loud and dread became his din. + The doors are burst, and the spectre-light + Betrayeth the form of the blood-tracked knight: + He was armed all over in coat of mail, + But nothing did steel that night avail; + He fell a torn corpse, beside that chair, + Whereunto the page did late appear, + By the dark glamour-art revealed, + His murdered lord with lance and shield. + The _murderer_ fell, and his death-wound found + In the terrible fangs of the true blood-hound. + + * * * * * + +Here the voice of the minstrel ceased; and, after striking a few notes +of his harp, full and deep, he rested with a look of sorrow. His eyes +dwelt on the Lady Barbara—but she heeded him not; but sat with head +inclined, as if still listening to his dismal tale. There followed a +dread silence in the room, as of expectation of that which was to +follow. Some there were, who said the ditty was already ended; yet they +would fain have heard something of the pitiful history of that unhappy +lady, whose portraiture was in the tower-chamber, and would have known +what was the guilty motive of the knight against the Lord of Eglamore; +and how it chanced he came so unwittingly to his castle. Others there +were then present, who, having noticed the young Gaston de Blondeville +to be ill at ease, the while the minstrel sung, and being, perchance, +already moved by the merchant’s strange accusation, scrupled not to +think the story touched him nearly; and that Pierre rested, not because +his ditty was at an end, or from weariness; but that he doubted whether +it would be well to proceed to the second part. + +However this may be, he needed not have stayed his strain, for Sir +Gaston was no longer in the chamber. Whether Pierre knew this or not, he +began once more to strike upon the harp; when, on a sudden, the king’s +trumpets were heard blowing up near the stair; and anon, his Highness +entered the bower, it being almost time that he should go to his rest +for “all-night.” + +There was no more harping; Pierre tuning not up his second fit; and +belike, if his Highness had been there at first, he would have bidden +him to shorten his ballad by one-half. + +The King looked about for Sir Gaston; and, espying him not, asked +wherefore he was not there; but, before any answer could be given, the +knight had returned, and now approached his Highness. He was then +commanded to dance a round with the Lady Barbara, and he obeyed; but +many there noted the sadness on his brow, though his steps were light +and gay. + +A more pleasureful sight could not be than the Queen’s bower, as it was +at that time, where she sat in estate, under a cloth of gold, her ladies +standing about her chair, and her maidens on either hand, below the +steps of her throne; and two young damsels of surpassing beauty and +richly bedight, sitting on the first step, at her feet; the same, that +were used so to sit, when her Highness kept state in the great hall at +festivals. + +Behind them, half encircling the throne, stood twenty household +esquires, holding great wax torches, right richly beseen in the king’s +livery, and proud to wear it, gentils as they were, as I said before, +and of ancient families in the countries from whence they came. + +The arched roof was curiously wrought in that fashion, which King Henry +had newly brought into favour; and, besides these lights, a great +crystal lamp, that hung from the roof, shone over the chamber and upon +the goodly assemblage, as they looked upon the Lady Barbara, passing so +winningly in the dance. That night, the Earl of Richmond bore the +Queen’s spice-plate, and Sir Philip de Kinton her cup. + +When the Lady Barbara had ended her dance, the Queen called her to her +chair; and, making her take of the sweetmeats from her own plate, spoke +commendable words to her, as did his Highness King Henry. Then the +Queen, turning to the Lady Gloucester, took from her hands a girdle, +richly beset with jewels, and, clasping it on the Lady Barbara, kissed +her, and bade her wear it ever, for her sake and for her honour. Her +Highness then stretched out her hand to Sir Gaston, who, kneeling, put +it to his lips. “May you, Sir knight,” said her Highness, “as well +deserve this lady, as she deserves this token of my regard!” + +Then, the King said many gracious things, and seemed so merry of heart, +that he made all around him gladsome; till, the Voide being ended, he +went forth with the Queen, the trumpets blowing before them; and the +chamber was then speedily avoided for all night. + +While these things were passing in the chambers of estate, there were +divers wassailings and merriments making in other places of the castle. +In the great hall were feasting and revelling, but not of estate. There +were tumblers and jugglers and morrice-dancers and mimicks and mummers, +with pipings and blowings, that made the roofs ring. + +The monks at the priory heard them afar, while at the last even-song, +and long after; and well I wote, that had it not been the King’s castle, +there had been some rebuke, as indeed due, for such noise made. The +Prior in his chamber sat alone; listening, I guess, in gloomy mood to +the revelry; and, all that night, only Edmund the monk and mass Peter +with him: he came not forth to midnight-song. + +But now I must return, and so must ye that hear, or read, to the castle. +In the hall there was a dancer on stilts, playing the while on a +recorder; there were dancers on one leg, and dancers upon the head; but +that which most rejoiced many of the beholders, were the disguisings and +the quaint antics of the mummers. There came a whole troop, some wearing +the heads of asses, some of bulls, some of calves, some of cats, who +brayed and kicked, bellowed and tossed, scratched and mewed, to the very +life. Others, like stags and hares, hounds and apes, kept not so +pertinently to their pretended natures, but marched on with solemn +state, as much as might be, hand in hand, as if they had been loving +friends and neighbours; yet each with a dagger stuck in his girdle. And +others again, with fools’ girdles and bells hanging to them; tossing +their heads, and cutting such strange capers, to the noise of pipes and +drums, as made the sides of many to shake with laughter, and roused up +every hawk on perch there to shake his bells in concert. + +But all this was child’s play, though it was often done before the +worshipfullest estates, in comparison of the sayer’s art; which, when he +could be heard between whiles, when the loud revelry paused and held +breath, was marvellous to hear: and, as soon as those mad-heads caught +the words of that tale-teller, sooth to say, they soon were still and +hushed, as though no living soul but he breathed there; listening to his +dismal tradey, with tears in their eyes, or quaking for fear of the +strange things he told them. He, the while, with solemn visage, showing +as though he himself believed all the marvels he related, and not +showing roguish smiles, as some do, kept on always to the far end of his +long tale: though some learned clerks would oft-times comment to their +neighbours upon his marvels, as if he had purported lofty matter worth +their notice, and did not merely strive to while an idle tide away. + +In other parts of the castle were those gentils and honest gentlewomen, +that, misliking the loud revelry of the hall, drew together in chambers +apart; and delighted themselves with histories of times past, the sad +hopes of lovers, or the deeds of brave knights, or otherwise in singing +and harping, after their own manner. + +In the lower hall too was feasting, and the mirth did not stop short of +the “Kuchane,” so that every man to the lowest degree was joyous; and +each chamber and tower rung with song, or laughter, save the prison +tower of the poor merchant. He, as he lay on his pallet-bed, heard those +sounds of music and jollity, in confused uproar rising through the +courts, while his heart was stricken with fear and sadness; for, whether +he were right or not in believing Sir Gaston to be the murderer of his +friend, it is certain, that he had seen his friend murdered, and that +too, as he had said, in the woods of Ardenn. + +He was, at this time, far from his home and friends, and had been +travelling, over these parts, a lonesome stranger, along the foss-way +from Lincoln, southward; having been on his merchandize into the north +seas, and having landed on the eastern coast. Coming again to that +place, where, a few years back, he had buried his friend, the +remembrance of him broke out in fresh grief; and, hearing that the king +was coming to keep festival in Kenilworth, he resolved to break the +matter to him; as well as to adventure to tell him, the times were such +it was no longer safe to journey in any part of his kingdom. + +The most audacious robberies, certes, were then committed at noon-day +with impunity; nay, the very thieves themselves feared not to be seen +walking about, little attempt being made to seize them, or, in any wise, +to suppress these scandalous outrages. Not only then did the sad fall of +his friend, but also the fearful condition of the living, urge the +merchant to make the truth known to the king. + +With this design he had rested at Kenilworth, but not at the house where +he had formerly suffered such affliction; and, on the king’s arrival, +had gone forth in the crowd to behold him, though he had not intended to +present his petition in that time of turmoil. But, when he saw near his +Highness, riding as it were in the top of favour, the very man, whom he +thought to be the slayer of his kinsman; when he beheld that look, which +he felt to dart into his heart, and to revive there all the horror he +had felt at the aspect of the murderer, at the moment when his friend +had been stricken down—then it was, that, overcome by the strength of +his feelings, he dropped down senseless in the castle court, as hath +been related. + +And now, what had he gained by his courageous demand of justice? +Suspicion, contempt, fear, grief, a prison, and, perhaps, death. Yet did +he not repent the effort he had made, so honest was his grief for the +fate of his kinsman; so much was his mind possessed with the notion, +that he had accused his very murderer; so confident was he that he was +performing a duty; and, what is more, so sure was he, that to perform +his duty in this world is the wisest, the most truly cunning thing a man +can contrive to do. Whether his suspicions concerning the knight were +just or not; these, his conclusions touching his own conduct, none but +fools, or villains, that is, none but fools—will deny. + +Thus he lay on his pallet, alike deprived of sleep by the jollity of +others and by his own grievous reflections. A lamp burned beside him, +but it served only to show the forlornness of his condition, in this +high and distant tower. Sometimes, he would rise and look through his +grated window upon the inner court of the castle, listening there awhile +to the distant minstrelsy and to the confusion of numberless voices, +footsteps and closing doors, that rose from many a chamber below. Anon, +a torch-bearer would pass the court, a page, perhaps, or a yeoman; and +would show the gloomy towers above and the steps of the guest he led at +their feet. But, this passed, nothing could the prisoner see, save here +and there, a lamp burning through a casement of glass (and a goodly show +there was of such windows now in this castle) like stars through a +clouded sky; but mostly the glorious beams of the great hall, that +struck through the windows and lighted the air above. Once he heard the +trumpets blow, and thought the King was coming forth, and once he +fancied he saw, in the person of one who followed a torch-bearer, Sir +Gaston himself. Then turned he from the casement, looked no more, and +fell upon his pallet. + +At last, every distant sound grew fainter; the noise of the dancers +ceased; then the minstrelsy sunk low; the voices of the hall revellers +became few; he heard less frequently the doors opened and shut; and then +he heard the fastening of bolts and bars: and, afar off, the castle +gates closed for the night; and soon all grew still, as though no living +creature inhabited there. + +And thus it kept, until the wayte piped his second watch in all the +courts. Then the stranger arose, and, looking again through his grate, +saw him well, by the light his groom carried, piping the hour. And, when +the man had finished his saye, he went round the court, his boy-groom +holding up the torch, while he tried every door, and found that all was +safe. By this light too, he perceived the wardour’s men on guard; but no +living being else was seen. The windows of the great hall were dark; +and, the torch being gone, nothing glimmered through the night, save one +great star, which wizards say is evil. It stayed, at his hour, right +over King Henry’s lodgings; but for whom it watched, who was there that +might tell? The prisoner knew the star, and all that was thought of it, +and he betook him to his pallet groaning heavily. + +He had not long been there, when, as he thought, a voice near him spoke +his name. Now, there was a small grate looked out from his chamber upon +the stair; and thence the voice seemed to come. The prisoner, raising +himself from his pallet, turned, and saw there the figure of a man +passing away. He kept his eyes fixed, for some space, upon the grate, +but the figure appeared no more, and he sunk again on his pallet. + +The voice, faint and passing as it was, had thrilled him with dread. +Whose it was, wherefore it had called him by a name known but to few, +and had then passed away, without communing with him, he tried in vain +to understand; yet seemed it not wholly new to him. + + + END OF VOL. I. + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET-STREET. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + INTERESTING WORKS + + + Just published by H. COLBURN, 8, New Burlington street. + + +1. THE LAST MAN. A Romance. 3 vols. By the Author of “Frankenstein,” +“Castruccio,” &c. + +2. GRANBY. A Novel. The Second Edition, revised. In 3 vols. post 8vo. +27s. + +3. DON ESTEBAN; or, Memoirs of a Spaniard. Written by Himself. Second +Edition. 3 vols. 27s. + +4. SANDOVAL; or, The Freemason. By the same Author. 3 vols. 27s. (In the +press.) + +5. THE NAVAL SKETCH-BOOK; or, Service Afloat and Ashore. By an Officer +of Rank. 2 vols. 18s. + +6. THE ADVENTURES of a YOUNG RIFLEMAN in the French and English Service, +during the War in Spain and Portugal. Written by Himself. Post 8vo. 9s. +6d. + +7. BRAMBLETYE HOUSE. A Novel. By the Author of the “Rejected Addresses.” +In 3 vols. post 8vo. + +8. MEMOIRS of the MARGRAVINE of ANSPACH. Written by Herself. 2 vols. +8vo. with Portraits. + +9. THE PLAIN SPEAKER. Opinions on Books, Men, and Things. In 2 vols. +8vo. 24s. + +10. MEMOIRS of the COUNTESS DE GENLIS. Vols. 7 and 8. Being the +Conclusion of this interesting Work. + +11. THE REMINISCENCES of MICHAEL KELLY, of the King’s Theatre; including +a Period of nearly half a Century. With numerous original Anecdotes of +Distinguished Persons, Royal, Political, Literary, and Musical. The +Second Edition, revised. In 2 vols. post 8vo. with a Portrait by Meyer. +21s. + + + _Works lately published._ + +12. MATILDA; a TALE OF THE DAY. + + “Blush I not? + Can you not read my fault writ in my cheek? + Is not my crime there?” + + The Third Edition. 2 vols. 12mo. 14s. + +13. TREMAINE; or, The Man of Refinement. The Third Edition, revised. In +3 vols. post 8vo. 31s. 6d. + +14. SAYINGS and DOINGS. Second Series; comprising four New Tales, viz. +The Sutherlands; Doubts and Fears; The Man of Many Friends; and Passion +and Principle. The Third Edition, in 3 vols, post 8vo. 1_l._ 11s. 6d. + +15. HIGHWAYS and BY-WAYS. Second Series; containing Three New Tales; +viz. Caribert the Bear Hunter; The Priest and the Garde du Corps; and +The _Vouée au Blanc_, or The Maid devoted to the Virgin. Third Edition. +In 3 vols. post 8vo. 30s. + +16. THE DIARY and CORRESPONDENCE of SAMUEL PEPYS, Esq. F.R.S. Secretary +to the Admiralty in the Reigns of Charles II. and James II., and the +intimate friend of the celebrated John Evelyn. + + Edited by RICHARD, LORD BRAYBROOKE. + +In 2 vols. royal 4to. printed uniformly with “Evelyn’s Memoirs,” and +embellished with Portraits and other Engravings by the first Artists. +Price 6_l._ 6s. boards. + +17. MEMOIRS and RECOLLECTIONS of COUNT SEGUR, Ambassador from France to +the Courts of Russia and Prussia. 8vo. French, 10s. 6d. English, 12s. + +18. MEMOIRS of the COURT of FRANCE during the Residence (above thirty +years) of the MARQUIS DE DANGEAU. Now first translated from the French; +with Historical and Critical Notes. In 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. Ditto in +French, 3 vols. 28s. + + This very interesting Work will be found to contain a great number of + Secret Anecdotes and Facts, hitherto unknown, respecting the Courts of + France and England. + +19. A PICTURE of GREECE in 1825; as exhibited in the Personal Narratives +of JAMES EMERSON, Esq., COUNT PECCHIO, and W. H. HUMPHREYS, Esq., In 2 +vols. post 8vo. with a Portrait of the Greek Admiral MIAOULIS. Price +18s. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Renumbered footnotes. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78468 *** diff --git a/78468-h/78468-h.htm b/78468-h/78468-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df1d508 --- /dev/null +++ b/78468-h/78468-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9034 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>St. Alban’s Abbey | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } + h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; } + h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; } + h3 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; 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ALBAN’S ABBEY</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>A</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>POETICAL ROMANCE.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='titlepage'> + +<div> + <h1 class='c003'>GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE,<br> <span class='small'>OR</span><br> <span class='xlarge'>THE COURT OF HENRY III.</span><br> <span class='large'>KEEPING FESTIVAL IN ARDENNE,</span><br> <span class='large'><span class='blackletter'>A Romance.</span></span><br> <br> ST. ALBAN’S ABBEY,<br> <span class='large'>A METRICAL TALE;</span><br> <span class='large'>WITH SOME POETICAL PIECES.</span></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>BY ANNE RADCLIFFE,</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF “THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO,” “ROMANCE OF THE FOREST,” &c.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>TO WHICH IS PREFIXED</span></div> + <div class='c002'>A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR,</div> + <div class='c002'>WITH EXTRACTS FROM HER JOURNALS.</div> + <div class='c004'>IN FOUR VOLUMES.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='large'>VOL. I.</span></div> + <div class='c004'><span class='large'>LONDON:</span></div> + <div>HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.</div> + <div>1826.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div><span class='small'>LONDON:</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET-STREET.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS<br> OF THE FIRST VOLUME.</h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <th class='c006'></th> + <th class='c007'>Page.</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>Memoir of the Life and Writings of Mrs. Radcliffe</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_iii'>iii</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td class='c008' colspan='2'>GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>Introduction</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>The First Day</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>The Second Day</td> + <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>MEMOIR</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>OF THE</span></div> + <div class='c002'>LIFE AND WRITINGS</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>of</span></div> + <div class='c002'>MRS. RADCLIFFE.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_iii'>iii</span> + <h2 class='c005'><span class='c009'>LIFE AND WRITINGS</span><br> <span class='c010'>OF</span><br> MRS. RADCLIFFE.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The Life of Mrs. Radcliffe is a pleasing phenomenon +in the literature of her time. During a +period, in which the spirit of personality has extended +its influence, till it has rendered the habits +and conversation of authors almost as public as their +compositions, she confined herself, with delicate apprehensiveness, +to the circle of domestic duties and +pleasures. Known only by her works, her name +was felt as a spell by her readers. Among the +thousands, whose life blood curdled beneath her +terrors, many little suspected, that the potent enchantress +was still an inhabitant of this “bright +and breathing world.” Even her romances, forming +a class apart from all, which had gone before, and +unapproached by imitators, wore a certain air of +antiquity, and seemed scarcely to belong to the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_iv'>iv</span>present age. Having long ceased to publish, she +acquired in her retreat the honours of posthumous +fame. Her unbroken retirement suggested to those, +who learned that she still lived, a fancy that +something unhappy was connected with her story, +and gave occasion to the most absurd and groundless +rumours, respecting her condition. But, while +some spoke of her as dead, and others represented +her as afflicted with mental alienation, she was +thankfully enjoying the choicest blessings of life—with +a cheerfulness as equable as if she had never +touched the secret springs of horror, and with a +humility as genuine as though she had not extended +the domain of romance, for the delight and +the benefit of her species.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In drawing aside the veil from the personal +course of this celebrated lady, her biographer cannot +exhibit any of the amusing varieties, which +usually chequer the lives of successful authors: +here are no brilliant conversational triumphs; no +elaborate correspondence with the celebrated, or +the great; no elegant malice; no anecdotes of +patrons or rivals; none of fashion’s idle pastime, +nor of controversy’s more idle business. Even the +great events of Mrs. Radcliffe’s life, the successive +appearances of her novels, extend over a small part +only of its duration. A stranger, witnessing its +calm tenor of happiness, would little guess to what +high and solemn inventions some of its hours had +been devoted; yet the more attentive observer +<span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span>would perceive, in her ordinary reflections and +pleasures, indications of the power so marvellously +exerted in her works. Fortunately, the means of +watching the developement of her faculties and +tastes in her daily pursuits are supplied by copious +memorandums written on several of her journeys; +in which, among rich and vivid descriptions, many +characteristic traits of sentiment and feeling are +scattered, and her moral excellencies shine forth in +a lustre which warms, while it enlightens.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Radcliffe was born in London, in July +1764. She was the only child of William and +Ann Ward, persons of great respectability, who, +though engaged in trade, were allied to families +of independent fortune and high character. She +was descended from the family of the De Witts of +Holland. It appears, from some of the documents +in the hands of her friends, that a member of this +distinguished house came to England in the reign +of Charles the First, under the patronage of Government, +to execute a plan for draining the fens +of Lincolnshire. The project was interrupted by +the political troubles which ensued; but its author +remained in England, and passed the remainder of +his days in a mansion near Hull. He brought +with him an infant daughter, named Amelia, who +was the mother of one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s male +ancestors. Her paternal grandmother was the +sister of Cheselden, the celebrated Surgeon, of +whose kindness her father retained a lively recollection. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_vi'>vi</span>Her maternal grandmother was Ann +Oates, the sister of Doctor Samuel Jebb, of Stratford, +who was the father of Sir Richard Jebb; +and she was related, on her mother’s side, to Dr. +Halifax, Bishop of Gloucester, and to Dr. Halifax, +Physician to the King. She was instructed in all +womanly accomplishments after the earlier fashion +of the time, but was not exercised in the classics, +nor excited to pursue the studies necessary to form +the modern heroine of conversations. In childhood, +her intelligence and docility won the marked affection +of her relatives, who moved in a somewhat +higher sphere than her parents, and she passed +much of her time at their houses. Her maternal +uncle-in-law, the late Mr. Bentley, of the firm of +Wedgewood and Bentley, was exceedingly partial +to his niece, and invited her often to visit him at +Chelsea, and afterwards at Turnham Green, where +he resided. At his house she enjoyed the benefit +of seeing some persons of literary eminence, and +many of accomplished manners. Mrs. Piozzi, Mrs. +Montague, Mrs. Ord, and the gentleman called +“Athenian Stuart,” were among the visitors.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Although the quickness and accuracy of Mrs. +Radcliffe’s powers of observation were early felt +by her friends, it does not seem, that the peculiar +bent of her genius was perceived till after her marriage. +She had been educated among members of +the old school, in manners and morals, whose notions, +while they prompted the most considerate +<span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span>kindness towards their young charge, did not perhaps +tend to excite precocious intellect, especially +in a female of diffidence, approaching to shyness. +Something of the formality derived from education +may be traced in her works, supplying a massive +but noble and definite frame-work for her +sombre and heroic pictures. There was also, in +the feeling of old gentility, which most of her relatives +cherished, a natural repugnance to authorship, +which she never entirely lost even after her +splendid success was ensured, and she had found +herself the creator of a new class in English romances.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the twenty-third year of her age, Miss Ward +was married to Mr. William Radcliffe, a graduate +of Oxford, who, at one period, intended to follow +the profession of the law, and, with that view, +kept several terms at one of the Inns of Court, but +who afterwards changed his purpose. The ceremony +was performed at Bath, where her parents +then resided, and she afterwards proceeded with +her husband to live in the neighbourhood of London. +Encouraged by him, she soon began to employ +her leisure in writing; and, as her distrust of +herself yielded to conscious success, proceeded with +great rapidity. Mr. Radcliffe, about this time, +became the proprietor of “The English Chronicle,” +and took an active share in the management +of the paper, which, with other avocations, obliged +him to be frequently absent from home till a late +<span class='pageno' id='Page_viii'>viii</span>hour in the evening. On these occasions, Mrs. +Radcliffe usually beguiled the else weary hours by +her pen, and often astonished her husband, on +his return, not only by the quality, but the extent +of the matter she had produced, since he left her. +The evening was always her favourite season for +composition, when her spirits were in their happiest +tone, and she was most secure from interruption. +So far was she from being subjected to her own +terrors, that she often laughingly presented to Mr. +Radcliffe chapters, which he could not read alone +without shuddering.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Although Mrs. Radcliffe was as far as possible +removed from the slavery of superstitious fear, +she took an eager interest in the work of composition, +and was, for the time, completely absorbed +in the conduct of her stories. The pleasures of +painting have been worthily celebrated by men, +who have been devoted to the art; but these can +scarcely be regarded as superior to the enjoyments +of a writer of romance, conscious of inventive power. +If in the mere perusal of novels we lose our +painful sense of the realities of “this unimaginable +world,” and delightedly participate in the sorrows, +the joys, and the struggles of the persons, how far +more intensely must an authoress like Mrs. Radcliffe +feel that outgoing of the heart, by which individuality +is multiplied, and we seem to pass a +hundred lives! She spreads out many threads of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_ix'>ix</span>sympathy and lives along every line. The passions, +the affections, the hopes of her character are essentially +hers; born out of her own heart; figured +from the tracings of her own brain; and reflecting +back again, in shape and form, the images and +thoughts, which work indistinctly in the fancies of +others. There is a perpetual exercise of that +plastic power, which realizes the conceptions of the +mind to itself, and gives back to it its own imaginations +in “clear dream and solemn vision.” +How delightful to trace the dawnings of innocent +love, like the coming on of spring; to unveil the +daily course of a peaceful life, gliding on like +smooth water; to exhibit the passions in their high +agitations and contests; to devise generous self-sacrifice +in heroic thought; to pour on the wearied +and palpitating heart overflowing happiness; to +throw the mind forward to advanced age, and +through its glass to take a mournful retrospect of +departed joy, and pensively understand a mild and +timely decay! No exertion of the faculties appears +more enviable than that of forming the outline +of a great tale, like “The Mysteries of Udolpho;” +bringing out into distinctness all the hints +and dim pictures, which have long floated in the +mind; keeping in view the catastrophe from the +first, and the relations to it of the noblest scenes +and most complicated adventures; and feeling already, +as through all the pulses of the soul, the +curiosity, the terror, the pity and the admiration, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_x'>x</span>which will be excited by the perusal in the minds +of thousands and thousands of readers.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Incited by the intellectual recompense of such +a pursuit, Mrs. Radcliffe gave her romances in +quick succession to the world:—her first work, +“The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne,” was +published in the year 1789; the “Sicilian Romance,” +in 1790; the “Romance of the Forest,” +in 1791; “The Mysteries of Udolpho,” in +1794; and “The Italian,” in 1797. It is pleasing +to trace the developement of her resources +and her gradual acquisition of mastery over +them in these productions. The first, with a +goodly number of old towers, dungeon keeps, subterraneous +passages and hair-breadth escapes, has +little of reality, or life; as if the author had caught +a glimpse of the regions of romance from afar, and +formed a sort of dreamy acquaintance with its recesses +and glooms. In her next work, the “Sicilian +Romance,” she seems to obtain a bird’s-eye view of +all the surface of that delightful region—she places +its winding vales and delicious bowers and summer +seas before the eye of the mind—but is as yet +unable to introduce the reader individually into +the midst of the scene, to surround him with its +luxurious air, and compel him to shudder at its +terrors. In the “Romance of the Forest,” she approaches +and takes up her very residence in the +pleasant borders of the enchanted land; the sphere +she chooses is small and the persons limited; but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xi'>xi</span>here she exercises clear dominion, and realizes +every thing to the fancy. The “Mysteries of +Udolpho” is the work of one, who has entered and +possessed a mighty portion of that enchanted land; +who is familiar with its massive towers and solemn +glooms;—and who presents its objects of +beauty, or horror, through a certain haze, which +sometimes magnifies and sometimes veils their true +proportions. In the “Italian,” she occupies a less +space; but, shining in golden light, her figures +have the distinctness of terrible pictures; and +her scenes, though perhaps less astounding in +the aggregate, are singly more thrilling and +vivid.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This splendid series of fictions became immediately +popular with the numerous class of readers, +who seek principally for amusement, and soon +attracted the attention of the finer spirits of the +age. Dr. Joseph Warton, the Head Master of +Winchester School, who was far advanced in life +when “The Mysteries of Udolpho” was published, +told Mr. Robinson, the publisher, that, happening +to meet with it, he was so fascinated, that he could +not go to bed till he had finished it, and actually +sat up the greater part of the night for the purpose. +Mr. Sheridan spoke of the same work in +terms of the highest eulogy. Mr. Fox, in a letter +written to an intimate friend, soon after the publication +of “The Italian,” spoke of Mrs. Radcliffe’s +works in terms of high praise, and entered into a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xii'>xii</span>somewhat particular examination and comparison +of the respective merits of the “Mysteries of +Udolpho” and “The Italian.” The author of the +Pursuits of Literature, not much given to commend, +describes her as “The mighty magician +of The Mysteries of Udolpho, bred and nourished +by the Florentine muses, in their sacred, solitary +caverns, amid the paler shrines of Gothic superstition, +and in all the dreariness of enchantment: +a poetess, whom Ariosto would, with rapture, +have acknowledged as</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in10'>—— La nudrita</div> + <div class='line'>Damigella Trivulzia al sacro speco.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>The pecuniary advantages, which she derived +from her works, though they have been exaggerated, +were considerable, according to the fashion +of the times. For the “Mysteries of Udolpho” +she received from Messrs. Robinson £500.; a sum +then so unusually large for a work of fiction, that +Mr. Cadell, who had great experience in such matters, +on hearing the statement, offered a wager of +£10. that it was untrue. By the Italian, although +considerably shorter, she acquired about the sum +of £800.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The reputation, which Mrs. Radcliffe derived +from her writings did not draw her from the retirement, +in which they were written. Although, +as she had no children, the duties of a family did +not engross her attention, she declined entering +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xiii'>xiii</span>into the society she was so well calculated to adorn. +Nothing but entire reciprocity in all the accompaniments +of society could satisfy her ideas of +the independence it became her to preserve. She +would, indeed, have conferred honour and obligation +on any circle, which she could prevail on herself +to join; but a scrupulous self-respect, almost +too nice to be appreciated in these days, induced +her sedulously to avoid the appearance of reception, +on account of her literary fame. The very +thought of appearing in person as the author of +her romances shocked the delicacy of her mind. +To the publication of her works she was constrained +by the force of her own genius; but +nothing could tempt her to publish <i>herself</i>; or +to sink for a moment, the gentlewoman in the +novelist. She felt also a distaste to the increasing +familiarity of modern manners, to which she had +been unaccustomed in her youth; and, though remarkably +free and cheerful with her relatives and +intimate friends, she preferred the more formal politeness +of the old school among strangers. Besides +these reasons for preserving her seclusion, +she enjoyed, with peculiar relish, the elegant pleasures +it gave her the means of partaking with her +husband. She chose at once the course she would +pursue, and, finding that her views met the entire +concurrence of Mr. Radcliffe, adhered to it through +life. Instead of lavishing time and money on entertainments, +the necessity for which, according to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xiv'>xiv</span>her feelings, was connected with a participation in +general society, she sought the comforts of residing +in airy and pleasant situations, of unbroken +leisure and frequent travelling; and, as her income +was increased by the death of relatives, she +retained the same plan of living, only extending its +scale of innocent luxury.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the summer of 1794, subsequent to the publication +of “The Mysteries of Udolpho,” Mrs. +Radcliffe accompanied her husband on a tour +through Holland and the western frontier of Germany, +returning down the Rhine. This was the +first and only occasion, on which she quitted England; +though the vividness of her descriptions of +Italy, Switzerland and the south of France, in +which her scenes are principally laid, induced a +general belief, that she had visited those countries. +So strongly was this conviction impressed on the +public mind, that a recent traveller of celebrity +referred to her descriptions as derived from personal +observation; and it was asserted in the +“Edinburgh Review” for May 1823, that she accompanied +her husband to Italy, when he was attached +to one of the British Embassies, and that +“it was on that occasion she imbibed the taste for +picturesque scenery, and the obscure and wild superstitions +of mouldering castles, of which she has +made so beautiful a use in her romances.” After +their return from the Continent, Mr. and Mrs. +Radcliffe made a tour to the English Lakes, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xv'>xv</span>were highly gratified by the excursion. On these +journeys, Mrs. Radcliffe almost invariably employed +snatches of time at the inns where she rested, +in committing to paper the impressions and events +of the day, which she could afterwards review at +leisure—a happy mode of prolonging those vivid +pleasures of life, for which she had a fine relish. +Such a habit, when it does not become too frequently +introspective, or “sickly o’er” our enjoyments +with “the pale cast of thought,” tends to +impart a unity to our intellectual being. It enables +us to live over again the unbroken line of existence; +to gather up the precious drops of happiness, that +they be not lost; and, in the last moments of feeling +and thought, to find “a glass which shows +us many more.” After Mrs. Radcliffe’s return, +she was prevailed on to give to her notes a regular +form, and to publish them in a quarto volume, +which met with a favourable reception.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The subsequent excursions of Mr. and Mrs. +Radcliffe were of less extent, and chiefly directed +to the southern coast of England. Always once, +and generally twice in the year, they took a journey +through some beautiful or interesting country, +limiting themselves to no particular course, but enjoying +the perfect freedom, which was most agreeable +to their tastes. Mrs. Radcliffe continued her +little diary of these pleasant rovings, but without +the slightest idea of publication, from which she generally +shrunk as an evil. Some specimen of these +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xvi'>xvi</span>journals are now first presented to the reader, which +will exhibit her mind in its undress—show her +feelings as they were undisguised—and display her +tact of observation and descriptive power, as existing +simply for her own gratification. She always +travelled with a considerable number of books, +and generally wrote, while Mr. Radcliffe derived +amusement from reading them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The following notes are extracted from memoranda +made on a little tour to the coast of Kent, +in the autumn of 1797. They appear to have +been written at the Inn at Hythe, while Mr. Radcliffe +rode to Folkstone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 1st. Began our tour to the seaside. +Between Gravesend and Rochester, the road, +though farther from the river than about Northfleet, +commands delightful views of it, expanding +to great breadth, and in length reaching towards +the Nore; ranges of distant hills in Essex and Kent +finally close the prospect. The shores green and +rich, and the water covered with sails tacking in +all directions. Sweet afternoon. Continual villages; +neat and pleasant country houses, with +lawns and shrubberies and high-walled kitchen +gardens. Views of the river. The dignity of +these views now much increased; the distant hills +run out into long ridges, and fold one behind +the other. The river often seen between green-dipping +hills, and then opening in vast majesty. +Descended towards Rochester: solemn appearance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xvii'>xvii</span>of the castle, with its square ghastly walls and their +hollow eyes, rising over a bank of the Medway, +grey and massive and floorless; nothing remaining +but the shell. From the bridge looked on +the right, up the Medway, winding broad between +woody picturesque heights, sometimes shelving +into points. On the left, the river busy with +shipping, as it winds round the town, towards the +Thames, and very broad.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Made our way in the gig through the long narrow +streets, and then, leaving Chatham on the left, +mounted a very steep road, having wide views +of Chatham, the docks and shipping, the new +barracks—a town themselves—rising up a hill, +with fortifications above its green mounds, with +cannon and two small artificial hills, with flags. +A great prospect, but too broken, and full of scars +and angles of fortifications and other buildings +and of excavations, to be quite pleasing. Further +on, mounted Chatham Hill; the view wonderfully +grand and various. The vale of the Medway, +sweeping from Rochester to Sheerness, and +the Nore, with the Essex hills beyond the Thames, +bounding the scene to the north-west; one of the +richest green landscapes, with wood and villages, +I ever saw. The Thames itself visible for many +miles, running sometimes almost parallel with the +green, rich vale of the Medway, till it pours its +broad waves into the sea opposite Sheerness. The +fortress lying low upon this side of the Medway, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xviii'>xviii</span>with its shipping distinctly seen by the help of a +good glass; the sea, animated with ships beyond +Southend, visible on the Thames opposite to +Sheerness, almost upon the open sea: knew a +sloop to be one, which we had seen sailing on the +Thames by Greenhithe. Proceeded to Sittingbourn, +through orchards, pastures and fragrant +villages; the road frequently rose and fell, but +the prospects were not considerable, except at Sittingbourn, +an open, pleasant town.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 2.—Set out about eleven for Canterbury. +The road very hilly, but through a most +rich country of orchards, hop-grounds and pastures, +villages and pretty houses, with lawns and +gardens frequently occurring. Feversham, a mile +on the left; saw it with its arm of the sea, and +the sea itself, at a distance. Soon after began the +long ascent of Boughton Hill; the summit rewarded +us with a prodigious prospect. The hill +itself wild with fern and coppice wood. Many +woods also in the near prospect, intermingled with +surprising richness of pasture, orchard and hops. +Descending the other side, saw the tower of Canterbury +cathedral, cresting a hill beyond; the body +of the cathedral and the city not yet appearing; +the tower became visible again at intervals, and, at +length, the city, with its ancient gates and buildings. +The cathedral itself looked very tall and +solemn, like a spectre of ancient times, and seemed +to hint of what it had witnessed. As we approached +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xix'>xix</span>the gate, supported by octagonal towers, +a long line of horses and soldiers poured from +the high narrow arch. Proceeded, after dinner, +to Dover over Barham Downs. Views into rich +little valleys on the right; each village having its +tall grey steeple. Noble mansions and parks frequently +on the rising grounds.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 3.—Walked on the beach, watching +the retiring and returning waves, and attending +to the bursting thunder of the surge.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Afterwards stood on a fortified point below the +castle, immediately and high over the beach, commanding +a vast marine horizon, with a long tract +of the French coast, a white line bounding the +blue waters. Below, on the right, Dover curves +picturesquely along the sea-bay; the white and +green cliffs rising closely over it, except near the +castle, where they give place to hills, that open to +a green valley, with enclosures and a pretty village, +beyond which it winds away. The most +grand and striking circumstances, as we stood on +the point, were—the vast sea view—the long shades +on its surface of soft green, deepening exquisitely +into purple; but, above all, that downy tint of +light blue, that sometimes prevailed over the whole +scene, and even faintly tinged the French coast, at +a distance. Sometimes, too, a white sail passed in +a distant gloom, while all between was softly shadowed; +the cliffs above us broken and encumbered +with fortifications; the sea viewed beyond them, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xx'>xx</span>with vessels passing from behind; the solemn +sound of the tide, breaking immediately below, +and answered, as it were, at measured intervals, +along the whole coast; this circumstance inexpressibly +grand; the sound more solemn and hollow +than when heard on the beach below. A fleet +of merchantmen, with a convoy, passed and spread +itself over the channel.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Afternoon.—Walked towards Shakspeare’s +Cliff; the fleet still in view. Looked down from the +edge of the cliffs on the fine red gravel margin +of the sea. Many vessels on the horizon and in +mid-channel. The French coast, white and high, +and clear in the evening gleam. Evening upon +the sea becoming melancholy, silent and pale. A +leaden-coloured vapour rising upon the horizon, +without confounding the line of separation; the +ocean whiter, till the last deep twilight falls, when +all is one gradual, inseparable, undistinguishable, +grey.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 4.—Morning fine, calm, but become +slightly cloudy. Walked to the topmost +point of Shakspeare’s Cliff, which appears a huge +face of chalk over the sea. The way through +fields; the path constantly rising, and leading +near the edge of the cliffs; leaned sometimes +over the railing, and looked down the precipices +and on the blue sea; little boats and a sloop below. +Coast of France visible; though always +most clearly seen about sunset, when the western +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxi'>xxi</span>rays strike horizontally upon it, and light +up all its features. Proceeding to the point of +the cliff, had no longer the protection of a railing; +bushes of hawthorn, mossed with yellow, alone +fence the precipice. Putting our hands on the +ground, we peeped over, ledge below ledge, abrupt +down. Many of the ledges hung with plants and +bushes. On the east, Dover—the bay—the castle—cliffs +beyond—the boundless sea. In front, +France, (Calais not visible,) a long tract sinking +away to the West, and leaving a wider +sea. Westward, charming view towards Beachy +Head, the high and farthest promontory; black +points of land, or rather low promontories, running +out, one beyond another, into the sea; hills +retiring to some margin, wild, heathy and broken; +then the coast makes a fine sweep; and, after +forming a vast bay, stretches out in the long, +low point of land, called Dungeness, on which +stands a light-house. Within this fine bay, Folkstone +was visible, with Sandgate castle and village +on the margin; then Hythe, a little more removed +and higher; then an old castle, higher still and +further from the shore; Romney, with its long +marshes, beyond; and far beyond all, the high +lands of Beachy Head, so eminent and bold, as +scarcely to be known for a continuation of the +same coast. The cliffs decline towards Folkstone, +and there are none beyond, on this side of Beachy +Head; but at some distance, from the shore, rise +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxii'>xxii</span>broken and wild, though small hills. The best circumstances +in the view are, first, the fine dark +points and then the noble sweep of the coast, the +dark levels of the marshes contrasting with the +blue sea they skirt. Crows took wing for their +nests in the cliffs below us. Thought of “the midway +air;” no sea-fowl. The white surf beating far +along the curving margin below to where other +chalky points uprear themselves. Within land, +the hills are brown and bleak and broken. The +castle hills, on the land side, scarred by roads and +far from picturesque; steep chalk hollows among +the heath.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“About half past five in the afternoon, set off for +Hythe, ten miles, chiefly along the high sea-cliffs, +except that about a mile from Dover, we wound +among brown hills, and, the cliffs sometimes sinking +a little, we had catches of the sea and of France, +between green-dipping heights. Near Folkstone, +descended a very long chalk hill, whence an enchanting +view towards Beachy Head; the hills, +retiring at some distance from the shore, open a +curving bosom, and show towns and villages at +their feet. Glad to get through the narrow steep +streets of Folkstone, though the town is well situated. +Proceeded in the dusk for Sandgate. Descended +upon it—a white, new village, straggling +along the beach, on each side of the wide road. +Green hills rising all about it, and the place wide +and free and pleasant; the sea beach appearing at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxiii'>xxiii</span>every step between the houses, on one side, and +as easy an access to the hills, on the other side. +On the beach an ancient castle, of several round +towers, ivied and clustered together, and built low +like Sandwich castle. Soldiers on guard at the gate; +thick walls; cannon; all on the outside was green +sod. The village being full, proceeded through +deepening dusk to Hythe, a mile and a half farther, +the road leading along the beach, at the foot of +green hills; the sea appearing to flow even with us. +Cottages by the road side and people straggling +all the way. Came late to Hythe, and slept there. +Its ancient church stands high, is a sea-mark and +a picturesque object, its grey towers and gothic +windows appearing among wood, and having a hill +behind them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the autumn of 1798, Mrs. Radcliffe, accompanied +by her husband, visited Portsmouth, the +Isle of Wight and Winchester. Her journal on +this little tour, which she seems to have particularly +enjoyed, is too minute to give entire; but +we select the following specimens.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 20—Set out in a beautiful afternoon +for Portsmouth. Ascending to Esher by twilight, +heard the bells sounding, with most melancholy +sweetness, from the summit, and strengthening as +we approached: every thing pensive, and tranquil.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 21, 1798. Sweet fresh morning. +Left Cobham between seven and eight. Passed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxiv'>xxiv</span>under a picturesque bridge uniting the grounds of +Paine’s hill; high, rough, broken banks, topped +with lofty trees, that hang over a light rustic +bridge. Then enter upon a wide scene of heath, +skirted here and there with rich distances; afterwards, +many miles of heath, of a dull purple and +dusty iron brown, with, sometimes, sudden knolls +planted with firs; sometimes distances let in between +bold hills. After Guildford, a large neat +old town, and pretty Godalmin, at the end of a +green level; steep hills to Haslemere and beyond +it, but opening to vast prospects:—again, many +miles of purple and rusty heath, with scarcely +a tree or a hut. Nearer to Horndon, the country, +though it continues to be heathy, is upon a +grander scale, opening to distant ridges of high +swelling hills, that probably overlook the sea; +the hills in Hampshire, on the right, more cultivated; +those in Sussex vast, sweeping and downy. +Fine sunset from under clouds; the strong gleam +almost blinded us as we descended in a hollow; +the high, heathy banks receiving the full effulgence, +while all below was gloom. The rays had +already become much fainter, as we wound up a +chalky precipice of great sweep and length, with +steep downs rising over it; sheep on the summit +showing themselves against the sky. A fine moon +rose, and lighted us over the downs to Horndon. +Heard only the sheep-bells, as the shepherd lad +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxv'>xxv</span>was folding his flocks, and they came down from +the hills. Slept at Horndon.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 22. Showers, but cleared up to a +fine morning. Passed over two or three miles of +the beautiful forest of Bere, the most picturesque +of any we have seen in England, breaking in +sweet woodland glades, all around to other hills +and valleys, with patches of green-sward and heath; +and to the bold ridges, that extend to the sea. +A cottage, here and there, under the trees, with +its grey curling smoke. As we mount Portsdown +hill, views, on the left, towards Chichester and +the bay of the sea; on the right, towards Southampton; +retrospect of Bere forest in the valley, and +ascending among the Hampshire hills most beautifully. +Having reached the summit of Portsdown +hill, the channel, the blue, high, sweeping ridge of +the Isle of Wight, Spithead, Portsmouth, with its +long embankments and spacious harbour, spread +before our eyes. This view, though very grand, +was not so striking as I expected. The hills do +not advance near enough to the shore to hang over +it, nor are they bold and broken in their shapes. +We are not allowed to look down abruptly on the +sea and the Isle of Wight; but view the first at +four miles distance, after the eye has gradually +passed over the flat lands below, and the landlocked +harbours, which break the scene with comparative +littlenesses. The shipping at Spithead +appeared beyond the town, on the left, where a low +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxvi'>xxvi</span>coast extends to the Chichester river, and towards +St. Helens on the main sea. The Isle of Wight +rises immediately in front of the picture. Farther +is the chalky ridge, that sinks towards the Southampton +water, and admits within its concave a +tract of low coast, that extends towards the channel.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Descend, and pass through the village of Cosham, +at its foot. The road now becomes animated, +and shows symptoms of a populous place; +carts, coaches, horsemen, private carriages, soldiers, +frequent signs and dusty air, instead of the +lonely wilderness and breezy freshness of the hills +and forest. Pass Portsea bridge, fortified and +guarded, and so to Portsmouth, between other +fortifications and the deeply-arched gates of the +town. The ditches, the turfed embankments, +crowned with rows of trees, reminded me of Bommel, +in Holland. On the right, a view over the +harbour, with huge, black prison-ships moored +upon it. Passed through the long dusty old suburbs. +The town itself old, level and somewhat +mean, except the High-street, and about the seaward +ramparts. Drove to the Fountain, a large +and good inn, but could hardly get a room to dine +in, as a West India and a Lisbon fleet were waiting +to sail in a day or two. Went to the ramparts +over the sea, crowded with officers of the army +and navy, their wives and friends, and many well-dressed +people attending to see the guns fired, in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxvii'>xxvii</span>honour of the coronation. From this place the +shipping at Spithead in front, and the Isle of +Wight, with the whole channel, are enchanting. +Returned to the Inn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“After dinner we left the horse and chaise at +the inn, and walked down to the busy, dirty place, +called the Point, where we got into a wherry, and +so went over the harbour to the decked passage-boat, +that was to carry us to the Isle of Wight. Adverse +wind, but not much of it. Sat on the deck; +a fine view of the town, the hospital, the forts and +harbour, as we sailed out: the sea not rough. +Hear the <i>he-hoes</i> of the sailors, afar in the channel, +and the boatswain’s shrill whistle. Passed +through a part of the fleet; saw Sir Sidney Smith’s +fine ship, of immense size, with many other large +ones round it. A cloudy sunset, but a gleam +came out that fell upon the distant town and harbour, +lighted up the sea, and touched the dark +polished sides of all the ships; glanced athwart +the western hills of the island, of which we were +now gaining a view. Sailed down the channel for +Cowes. The breeze gradually sunk, and we were +becalmed. A full September moon rose, and +shed its radiance on the waters. Glided along the +woody steeps of the island, and saw many a sweeping +bay and obscure valley beyond. Reached +Cowes about nine; the approach to it, in a beautiful +bay, striking, with its summer lights illuminating +many windows, and its houses seeming to rise +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxviii'>xxviii</span>steeply from the shore; many vessels at anchor in +the bay; its slopes of scattered wood and pasture +traced darkly round the bright clear water, +and opening to an obscure valley. Landed at West +Cowes, and went to the Vine Inn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 23. Lovely day. Walked down to +the shore and to the castle, a low grey tower on a +rocky point, washed by the tide and shadowed by +lofty elms; sentinels pacing under them, round +the fort; fine view of Cowes and the bay. Thence +mounted the rising ground over the shore, and +walked a mile on the Yarmouth road, the views +opening between trees and hedges to the dark +lines of the New Forest; the Southampton water +just opposite; eastward, Portsmouth faintly seen +and the shipping at Spithead; the masts of the +ships at Cowes caught among the trees below; +the scene changing at every step, with the winding +road; sometimes quite shut out, then smiling in +the softest colours. All was in gradual shades of +blue; the calm sea below, the shores and distant +hills, stretching along a cloudless blue sky. Innumerable +vessels and little sails, whose whiteness +was just softened with the azure tint. It is impossible +to express the beauty of those soft melting +tints, that painted the distant perspective, +towards Spithead, where sea and sky united, and +where the dark masts and shapes of shipping, drawing +themselves on the horizon, gave this softness +its utmost effect.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xxix'>xxix</span>“Returned to dine at the Vine. Hired a good +sailing-boat, to take us to Ryde; and, after dinner, +sailed from the harbour. The points, that +form the horns of the crescent, are of rough, dark +rock and shrub. On a brow, over a wood, rose +the picturesque tower of a modern castle, which +we heard had lately been the residence of a sister +of Admiral Macbride. Glided with gentle breeze +along the quiet and beautiful shores of the island, +undulating in gentle slopes, covered with woods, +to the water’s edge; sometimes the lighter green +of meadows and pastures stretched to the very +bank, with here and there a cottage, a village +church, or some ornamented house on an ascent +among trees, above which rose the main hills of +the island. The shore seldom runs out into points, +but winds into easy bays, hung with woods, sometimes +opening into sweet valleys, at others, advancing +gently, with all their “green delights,” to +meet the passing sails. The coast immediately +opposite is uninteresting and flat; the chalky ridge +of Portsdown too distant and uniform to be grand. +In the retrospect, indeed, the New Forest spread +a dark line along the sea, and the western hills +of the island, near Yarmouth, waved along the +horizon, and two pointed summits of the Isle of +Purbeck folded in behind them, making it difficult +to discern which were the different coasts. +Sea-fowl showing their white wings in the sun, as +they circled over the waters. The breeze increased, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxx'>xxx</span>and we sailed finely among the now roughening, +yet still green and almost transparent waves, along +the shore. About half way, the coast returns into +a green recess, and the waters wind away among +the hills verdant with thick woods and enclosures. +Here the Governor has built a picturesque tower +above his woods. Hence extend along the shore +the fine woods of the rector of a village on an +ascent, where the tower of the church, almost hid +in wood, insists upon being painted. Here imagination +has nothing to do; we have only to preserve +the impression of the living picture on the memory, +in its own soft colours.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Vessels of all sizes in the channel; the sailors’ +<i>he-ho</i>, the shrill whistle, and the rattle of cordage, +as the sails were altered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Reached Ryde, about sunset. The town, +among trees, rises from the shore up a long hill.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“At the inn, though very neat, accommodations +were so inadequate, that we resolved to proceed in +an open boat, which was about to return to Portsmouth. +After taking a hasty dish of very good +tea, went down a rough causeway, where many +people were hurrying to the same boat, and such +a crowd collected as alarmed me. A small party +was, however, soon made up for a second boat; +when, with little sails and two oars, we launched +among the peaceful waters; tinged, on one side +of the horizon with the red glow of sunset, and +brightening on the other, under a broad moon +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxi'>xxxi</span>rising over the ships at Spithead. Passed through +the fleet. Heard voices talking far off over the +dim waves, and sometimes laughter and joviality; +especially as we passed near a large ship, where +lights in the great cabin high above, told of the +Captain and cheer. Distant lights appearing +from the ships successively, as the evening deepened, +like glowworms, and dotting the waters far +around. As we drew near the shore, the music of +French horns sounded with faint and melancholy +sweetness; discovered at last to come from Monckton +Fort. Landed after an hour and a half, at the +rampart steps. Walk by moonlight on the rampart. +Supped and slept at the Fountain, after a +day the most delightful of the whole tour.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>From Portsmouth Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe proceeded +by Winchester to London. The following +is her notice of the approach to Winchester, of the +City and the Cathedral.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Saw the City lying deep among the hollows, +sheltered from the winds by bare hills, which half +conceal the town at their feet. The King’s house, +once really a palace, with new houses, conspicuous +on rising ground. Found out at last, through the +dusk, the venerable Cathedral, with its long roofs +and very low tower, among fine old elms; a recess +deep and retired. The streets clean and quiet; not +a student visible. This decorum and neatness form +a curious contrast to the bustle and tumult of Portsmouth, +sending forth her people to the whole world; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxii'>xxxii</span>while Winchester seems to be so much withdrawn +from it. Went to the George, a noble inn: sat in +a part of the Assembly room, severed off. Angelica +Kauffman’s drawings at each end. Walked +by moonlight up the High-street; good, terminated +by a fine old gate. Led by the sound of martial +music to the court of the barracks in the old palace. +The suburbs old and narrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 25. Sweet morning. Rose soon, +and went, before breakfast, to see the Cathedral, +a very large ancient fabric, not highly ornamented +without. Walks round it of most noble, tall +elms, forming almost a perfect archway and as +high as the roof of the Church. Old men employed +to weed them. The Cathedral, we were told, +is fifteen feet longer than any other in England, +but it did not appear to the eye so long as that of +Canterbury. Nave of great height; painted windows +poor, but the choir affords the most beautiful +<i>coup d’œil</i> I ever saw; the carving of the dark +stalls, and of the pulpit exquisitely fine; but +the white filigranne-work of the altar is as delicate +to the eye as point-lace. The altar-piece, by West, +is Lazarus rising from the dead. The face well expresses +the wanness and sharpness of death; but it +might have been much more descriptive of reviving +life, beginning to steal upon the languor of death; +and of surprise and joyful hope, on beholding our +<span class='sc'>Saviour</span>. The attitude of Lazarus is indeed +such, that he might be taken for a person dying +rather than one returning to life. The countenance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxiii'>xxxiii</span>of our <span class='sc'>Saviour</span> is full of placid benevolence; +but the action should have been more expressive +of command——of command, without effort. The +principal female figure, who supports Lazarus, is +clear, beautiful and natural; she looks up to our +<span class='sc'>Saviour</span>, with tears of awe and gratitude; but +the grief and anxiety she has suffered are not yet +entirely chased from her countenance by joy and +thankfulness; their impression was too deep to +be suddenly effaced, though the cause of them is +removed. The faces of the spectators do not sufficiently +speak astonishment, awe and adoration, +except that of one, seen remotely and obscurely, +as if pressing forward more fully to ascertain the +fact.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>On the 10th of July, 1800, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe +left home on a tour to the southern coast. +The first evening they reached Capel;—after this +the Journal proceeds.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“July 11th.—Fine airy morning. Set off at ten. +Hilly road, often narrow and shady. Upon the +eminences views over the tops of oaks to mountainous +hills and promontories, covered nearly to +their summits with thick, woody inclosures; whenever +the bank-trees opened, caught blue, peeping +hill tops, or mountainous lines, coloured with a +lovely blueish haze, and seen enchantingly beyond +the dark, tufted foliage of majestic oak. Passed +several open, pleasant villages. Every where, vegetation +seems in the utmost luxuriance; every +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxiv'>xxxiv</span>cottage-window arboured with rose, or woodbine. +The South Downs, at a distance, heaved up +their high, blue lines, as ramparts worthy of the +sublimity of the ocean, from whose power they +seemed to guard the island. Dined at a little +inn in a village—Billinghurst. Terrible road +after this; flinty, sandy, and over frequent hills, +but with some recompensing prospects. As we +drew nearer the South Downs, distinguished the +smooth green of their swelling summits from the +dark woods below, and in the hollows of the hills, +over which the evening sun threw rich lights and +shadows. Abundance of wood round the villages; +good gardens to the cottages.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Came at length to Bury, only four miles from +Arundel; but our horse wanted rest after so toilsome +a road, and we drank tea, before beginning +to mount one of the prodigious hills we had long +seen. Came at last to the fine downs on its summit, +whence a world seemed to lie before us. Grandeur, +grace and beauty united in this wonderful +view. We could just distinguish doubtfully in +the twilight, at great distance, the channel between +the coast and the Isle of Wight, a line of light +upon the scene, with faint cloudy lands of the island +beyond. We soon entered upon the domain +of Arundel, the road winding finely among its +pompous woods and rough forest lawns. Partly +by the tediousness of the ascent and partly by our +delay upon the summit, these four miles occupied +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxv'>xxxv</span>an hour and a half. We did not see the castle +from the road, but the woods and the remains of +old gateways were perceptible. A church of +great extent, apparently old and grand. The +main street of the town fearfully steep. Reached +an excellent inn, about half past nine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“July 12. Fine day, but very hot. Went in +the morning to see the castle, which stands on an +eminence, near the town, about four miles from +the sea. An irregular avenue leads to a solemn +old gateway very deep and bending like those at +Mentz, which, with the ruinous tower over it, mantled +with ivy, looked well in the dark perspective +of the trees. Low arched doors in the gateway, +at the sides; loops for archers and abundance +of room for them in the immense thickness +of the walls.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The library is in a long gallery, where hang +some portraits; among them James the Second; +his first wife, Lord Clarendon’s daughter, handsome, +but with an air of discontent; Elizabeth of +Bavaria and her husband; two Cardinals, one of +them a Howard. In many of the rooms, the walls, +wherever a window occurs, are lined with dark +mahogany, which forms the cases into frames, as +it were, for the landscape seen through them, but +in general looks brown and poor: little wood visible +from this side of the castle. We passed +through several noble apartments, not quite finished, +and others indifferently furnished; the walls of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxvi'>xxxvi</span>several, however, wainscoted, chair-high, with beautiful +mahogany. The pillars and Gothic arch-work +of the music-gallery exquisitely carved.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Monday, July 14.—Cool, cloudy morning. Set +off, at eleven, for Worthing. A flat, uninteresting +coast. Drove partly over the sands, the tide being +down. Larks singing among the corn, near the +shore. A sea-gull fishing in the salt-pools, near +the sands. Within a few miles of Worthing discovered +the sweep of grey downs about Brighton, +that form a background to the large bay; within +which, Brighton, Worthing, &c. are seated. Soon +after, distinguished the dark masts of vessels lying +before Worthing, some of which, seen upon the +lighter grey of the distant hills, forming that fine +bay, were picturesque, and seemed to be of consequence, +but proved to be only small sloops. Horses +and a carriage upon the sands informed us of our +nearer approach to Worthing, which stands well +upon the beach; the tide out, and a fine plain of +sand spread before the village. It was animated +by groups of the busy and the idle; little boats +along the edge of the tide, others at anchor: altogether +it was a very lively and amusing scene. A +fleet of ships, said to be transports, convoyed by +two men-of-war, came upon the distance, and +clouded the horizon for some time, but were too +far off to be interesting. Dined at a pleasant +hotel near the beach, with a grass-plot before it. +Amused with numerous parties, who had come +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxvii'>xxxvii</span>from Brighton in sociables, chariots and gigs, to +dine, and who exhibited themselves on the grass-plot +under our window. After dinner, and after +seeing the tide flow up the beach, very high, set +off for Little Hampton, by an inner road, through +pleasant, shady lanes, between corn fields, with a +range of distant hills on one side, their feet darkened +with wood. Delightful afternoon. After a +sweet ride, met the sea again, at the Beach House, +where we drank tea, supped, and slept.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“July 15. Lovely day. Left Little Hampton +about one for Worthing. Could not go by the +sands, the tide being too near. Stopped to dine +at the village of Terring, at a small house with a +garden. After dinner, walked up a high hill to +see a celebrated prospect. Gained the summit of +the sheep-down, and stood on the top, whence we +saw the whole compass of the horizon and such a +stretch of sea and landscape! The whole southern +sky, and the blue sea, extending from the Isle +of Wight (its faint blue-lands rising towards the +west) to the white face of what we took to be +Beachy Head, but afterwards learned to be Seaford +Cliffs: beneath, lay sloping towards the sea, +a landscape of exquisite hues, of corn and thick +hedge-rows of woods and intermingled villages. +Within the scope of the bay, towards Beachy +Head, Worthing, Shoreham, Brighton, on the +sea edge, backed with downs. Farther on, the +hills begin to whiten, and rise into the high face +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxviii'>xxxviii</span>guarding the entrance of Newhaven river, which +seems to fall into a fine bay. To the west, Little +Hampton, the woods, town and castle of Arundel; +further on, amidst a long tract of woody country, +the spire of Chichester Cathedral; further still, +the high point of Portsdown hill, but not Portsmouth. +The whole of the Isle of Wight clearly +within view; the ridge of hills divided into three +parts. Spithead may be distinguished, it is said, +at times. To the north, we looked down into +woody valleys at the feet of the Downs, and saw +Mr. Shelly’s new mansion, among his fine woods.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Went back to our cottage inn delighted. Went +to Worthing to tea. The tide just turning, the +blue sea flowing almost even with our windows. +Parties again from Brighton at our inn. Lovely +evening. When the tide was lower, the sands were +gay with fine company. In another part, a cricket +match going on upon the sands. Fishing vessels +at anchor. Saw the Isle of Wight under the +evening light, more distinctly in some respects, +than before, yet like a dark cloud rising out of +the sea.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>From Worthing, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe went +by short journeys to Seaford. The following reflections, +prompted by the “melancholy greatness +of nature,” on a little excursion by the shore, will +strikingly illustrate the thoughtful and pious cast +of the writer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“July 19.—Went to see the rural village of Alfriston, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xxxix'>xxxix</span>over such a road as I never saw before; +and leading over such hills! Two men helped the +chaise down one of them. Some finely spreading +oaks about the village, which stands on an eminence +in a green valley backed by grey downs. +Dined at a very old inn; had seats brought on +the ground, before and after dinner. Walked the +greatest part of the way back to Seaford; saw +the sun set behind one of the vast hills. The silent +course over this great scene awful—the departure +melancholy. Oh <span class='sc'>God</span>! thy great laws +will one day be more fully known by thy creatures; +we shall more fully understand Thee and +ourselves. The <span class='sc'>God</span> of order and of all this and +of far greater grandeur, the Creator of that glorious +sun, which never fails in its course, will not neglect +us, His intelligent, though frail creatures, nor +suffer us to perish, who have the consciousness of +our mortal fate long before it arrives, and of +<span class='sc'>Him</span>. He, who called us first from nothing, can +again call us from death into life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In this month, on the 24th of July, my dear +father died two years since: on the 14th of last +March, my poor mother followed him: I am the +last leaf on the tree! The melancholy greatness +with which I was surrounded this evening, made +me very sensible of this.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>From Seaford the tourists proceeded to Eastbourne, +and visited Beachy Head. The journal +contains the following short description, which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xl'>xl</span>places a striking scene before us, with a few strokes +of a masterly pencil.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“July 20.—Dined at the little village of Friston, +seated deep down between immense hills, in +a valley, that about a mile off opens to the sea, at +the dangerous place called Burling Gap. A Prussian +captain, whose vessel had been wrecked at the +foot of Beacky, as our landlord called it, had been +nine weeks at our poor little inn. The village +had been almost buried in the snow, which came +down upon the village from the steep sides of the +hills; then the thaw nearly overwhelmed it. From +the summit of a hill, on our way to Eastbourne, +immense retrospect of sea and land. Surprising +appearance of the sea, which seemed to rise so +high, that it could scarce be distinguished from +clouds; ships looked like birds in the sky. Nothing +seen but great and simple objects—the round +sea—the huge uncultivated headlands.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The ascent of Beachy Head, and the view from +it, are described at some length in the Journal; +but the following scene on the shore is more peculiar +and striking.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“July 23. Walked to the shore and along it, +with a hope of having some sight of the sea—front +of Beachy Head from beneath it, though four or +five miles off. The beach impassable by any sort +of carriage. A shore of ruins under the cliffs, +which gradually rise from what is called the Wish-House, +a small white building standing sweetly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xli'>xli</span>near the beach, to the summit of the Cape. Large +blocks of granite imbedded on the shore, and extending +to the waves, which rage and foam over +them, giving one dreadful ideas of shipwreck. +Sometimes, patches of gravelly sand, or pebbles, +soon ending against masses of granite, or chalk, +between which it is difficult, and not always possible +to walk; some of them must be stepped upon. +Within half a mile of the great front, unable to +proceed farther; sat down on a block, wearied +out, desiring William to go on; he was soon hid +by a turn of the cliffs. Almost frightened at the +solitude and vastness of the scene, though <i>Chance</i><a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c014'><sup>[1]</sup></a> +was with me. Tide almost out; only sea in front; +white cliffs rising over me, but not impending; +strand all around a chaos of rocks and fallen cliffs, +far out into the waves; sea-fowl wheeling and +screaming; all disappeared behind the point, beyond +which, is the great cliff; but we had doubled +point after point, in the hope that this would be +the next, and had been much deceived in the distances +by these great objects; after one remote +point gained, another and another succeeded, and +still the great cliff was unattained; the white precipices +beautifully varied with plants, green, blue, +yellow and poppy. Wheat-ears flew up often +from the beach: <i>Chance</i> pursued them. At length, +William returned, having been nearly, but not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xlii'>xlii</span>quite, in front of the great promontory. Slowly +and laboriously we made our way back along the +beach, greatly fatigued, the day exceedingly hot, +the horizon sulphurous, with lowering clouds; +thunder rolled faintly at a distance.”</p> + +<div class='footnote' id='f1'> +<p class='c012'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Her favourite Dog.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>The same afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe +continued their tour to Hastings. The following +is the picturesque view of their journey from Bexhill +to Hastings, in the evening.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“From Bexhill, descended between the high, +shrubby banks of lanes, so narrow, that the wheels +seemed to fill the passage; in some places a horse +could not have passed; we met no carriage, or we +must have backed a great way. Breathing honeysuckles +on the banks; deep twilight. Heard the +sea frequently on our right when the wheels +stopped. We had before passed Pevensey levels +and the town, with its fine old castle: towers in +ruins. On our approach, it reminded one of Newark +castle. Near eleven, before we reached Hastings; +no moon; starlight; milky-way very lucid; +seemed to rise out of the sea. Solemn and pleasing +night-scene. Glowworms, in great numbers, shone +silently and faintly on the dewy banks, like something +supernatural. Judgment of Shakspeare in +selecting this image to assist the terrific impression +in his ghost-scene. May be called earth-stars. +The coast patrole passed us. How far to Hastings? +Three miles. Farther on had a narrow +escape: horse and chaise suddenly plunged down +a bank into the pebbles; nearly overturned. Happily +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xliii'>xliii</span>our horse stood quite still, after the shock, +and until we had ascertained the rugged course +we were in; I walked the rest of the way. Pass +under grand, dark rocks, disjointed and starting +up in splintered points, and huge masses. These +rocks, near the beach and over the road, continue +to where the houses open.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>From Hastings Mrs. Radcliffe proceeded along +the coast to Dover, to which place she was extremely +partial, and thence by Feversham to London. +After minutely detailing her little adventures, +she thus concludes her journey:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In all our tour saw nothing so fine and beautiful +as the views of sea and land from the Downs +over the East Bourne. The sweet repose of +the landscape and sea-bay to Hastings, and the +grandeur of the various views, on all sides between +the valleys of the South Downs, and even +above these summits, circling nearly the whole +horizon, with soft blue waves.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the autumn of this year, Mrs. Radcliffe +spent a fortnight at Little Hampton, and returning +by Haslemere, thus describes the country +immediately southward of that place.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Three miles of continual ascent, or descent of +almost tremendous hills, long and steep opening +to vast distances, now obscured in ruin, but sublime +in their obscurity—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>‘Where wilds immeasurably spread,</div> + <div class='line'>Seem lengthening, as we go.’—<span class='sc'>Goldsmith.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xliv'>xliv</span>‘These high, wild hills and rough uneven roads,</div> + <div class='line'>Drag out our miles and make them wearisome.’</div> + <div class='line in37'><span class='sc'>Cymbeline.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“This is the country, from which Collins drew +his first ideas, and fed his early taste for the wild +and the grand.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>’O! vales and wild-woods, would he say,</div> + <div class='line'>In yonder grave your Druid lies.”</div> + <div class='line in39'><span class='sc'>Collins.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“Have never seen such wild woody mountains +before in England; they resemble the forests of +Wetteravia more than any I have seen, but with +this difference, that there the mountains are more +pointing, abrupt and rocky, and that here the +road often winds round the edge of the hills into +deep and most picturesque glades, where comfortable +cottages lie snug beneath noble trees, and +ruddy children play under the branches, among +the huge timber felled on the ground, the Woodman’s +implements and the thatched hovel. Sylvan, +or other rural industry appeared in every hamlet. +Clouds of smoke from places, where wood was +charred, sometimes darkened the air. This is the +most woody tract in Sussex, and probably in England. +The eastern end of the country has no +wood: the immense hills stand bare in all their +grandeur.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The following notes are extracted from the +Journal of a Tour, made in the autumn of 1801, +to Southampton, Lymington, and the Isle of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xlv'>xlv</span>Wight. The two first days’ journey supply no +matters of interest: in the afternoon of the third +day, 29th Sept. the travellers thus approach the +beautiful neighbourhood of Southampton:</p> + +<p class='c012'>“At length, the blue hill tops of the Isle of +Wight appeared faintly on the horizon, over the +stretching forest masses of the near scene. At the +sixth mile-stone, entered a part of the New Forest; +beautiful woods and glades; thick trees shadowing +the road; wherever the woods opened, especially +on the right and in front, other rich masses +and others still beyond, rose pompously. One of +the perspectives in front particularly fine, as we +saw our road descending among the deep woods, +and other woods rising up the hills and crowning +the bold summit of an eminence, that seemed to +rear itself over all the forest. The deep gloom of +stormy clouds and fleeting lights of sunshine extremely +various; the sun often shedding a misty +glory over the solemn woods in the west, while +sudden and awful shadows dwelt wide over other +summits. Passed a most picturesque hamlet of +green mossed cottages scattered round a little +lawn, where the woods opened, but closed again +in thicker shades. Four miles of this sweet +scenery, when we entered upon heath, and came +upon a high level common, extending a mile, or +two, that opened upon a vast prospect on either +hand: in front, all the hills of the Isle of Wight, +from east to west, swelled along the horizon. On +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xlvi'>xlvi</span>the right, the wavy woods of the New Forest +bounded all the western and northern view. The +richness of this vast mass of tufted woods is indescribable. +Part of the Southampton water was +visible on this side, flowing between wooded banks +with villages on its edge. On the left, the view +over the vale was not so grand, but more diversified +by the light green of pastures and by frequent +villages and white mansions among the +woods, that spread among the gentle slopes. +Showers and sunshine alternately dimmed and +brightened the hills. The splendour of the sun +fell, at times, upon the forest, in the west, while a +heavy shower darkened an open valley in the +east, softened the verdure of the nearer hills, and +spread over the woods and meadows and villages +a gradual chastening tint, that was enchanting. +At length, the spire of the great church of Southampton +appeared over the woods in front, while +the town was yet unseen.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>After a short notice of Southampton, where +Mrs. Radcliffe remained only two nights, the +Journal proceeds:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“After breakfast, set off for Lyndhurst; passed +along the head of the bay, and by Millbrook, +then the long bridge and causeway. After a long +hill, descend upon the New Forest, and pass between +open lawns and woods, capping every little +eminence, and spreading round like those of Kensington +Gardens. Longed for the speed of a stag +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xlvii'>xlvii</span>to bound along these lawns and endless forest-glades. +Dined at the Crown, in a parlour opposite +to the inn, which was full; some forest-commissioners +here. The Princess Sophia of Gloucester +expected at the King’s House; shown to us +by an elderly woman. Good rooms; ancient furniture. +A wood fire on the hearth of the Princess’s +room and on that of the dining-room below. All +these rooms look under thick lofty trees to the +forest woods, that rise close over the village, towards +Brokenhurst. Oak-benches at the upper end +of Rufus’-hall, where the forest courts are +held—the most ancient part of the building. A +large iron stirrup, called Rufus’s stirrup.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“From Lyndhurst, the ride to Brokenhurst is +through five miles of pompous forest groves, of +which grandeur is the characteristic, mingled with +great beauty. The forest crowds over the road. +Only two spots the whole way where the trees retire +round lawns. Hence to Lymington: the country +is inclosed; but still the lanes are forest-lanes. +Passed Boldre, leaving Mr. Gilpin’s a mile on +the left, and soon came in view of the Isle of +Wight, with Lymington, and its neat cupola-church. +Came in at dusk; made our way in the +market-place, between waggons and cheese piled +up for the morrow’s fair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 3. Left Lymington at half past three, +in the packet for Yarmouth; after viewing the fair, +and the fine booths of trinkets and plate. Passed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xlviii'>xlviii</span>many charming residences among the woody banks +on the left. Glided smoothly under a light summer +air; the evening splendid, and the scene most +lovely. The Needles are vast dark blocks of +rock, tall, but not pointed, standing out from the +island in the sea. Hurst castle, with its dark line +of peninsula stretching athwart the Channel. The +Needles become more huge seen against the light, +with the point of the Alum Rock in shade. These +objects, with the high line of the Isle of Purbeck, +faintly grey beyond, composed a perfect picture, +with most harmonious colouring. The light silver +grey of the sea first met the eye, then the dark +Alum Rock projected to meet Hurst Castle, whose +towers were pencilled in deep grey beyond, which +softened away to the heights of Purbeck, that +closed the perspective. After sunset, streaks of +brightest crimson appeared on the sky, behind +clouds, black and swelling; the upper shores clear, +though dark. Approached Yarmouth, under this +sweet twilight. The western shore of Yarmouth +goes off in a darkly wooded point, with many +white houses, or cottages, among the trees. Landed +on Yarmouth quay, small, and crowded with +people. Dutch sentinels on the little fort over +the quay and rampart of the old castle. Our inn +built by Sir Robert Holmes, governor of the +island, on the scite, I fancy, of Henry the Eighth’s +old castle. Our horse and gig came in another +packet.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xlix'>xlix</span>“Oct. 4. After breakfasting at Yarmouth, +set out in a bright morning for the Light-house +above the Needles. As we rose, the Channel and +the English coast, from Portsdown Hill (known by +its long chalk-pit) to the shore near Pool in Dorsetshire, +lay before us, bounded partly by the +New Forest and thick inclosures, and spreading +with towns and villages and innumerable seats +and farms, with a vast extent of the northern part +of the Isle of Wight, and with Southampton Bay, to +Lymington, here and there a white house on the +shore, snug under trees, and other house-tops peeping +out, almost wherever I directed the glass, above +the forest. Discovered Lyndhurst steeple, with +the large white house at Mount Royal, ‘bosomed +high in tufted trees.’ The whole country, from +the neighbourhood of Southampton to the West, +rises gradually from the shore into a line of horizon +little varied; but the richness and cheerful +beauty of this widely extending amphitheatre, +seen over the calm blue Channel, with here and +there a white sail and a ship of war at anchor, +permit no desire for greater variety. As we rose +upon the down, this scene enlarged: the Isle of +Purbeck became more majestic; its outline is more +mountainous than that of the Isle of Wight, with +a range of high awful cliffs below. It was now +tinged with misty azure, but the sun brightened +all the sea before it. Two of its summits appeared +finely in the perspective from Cowes’ Point. The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_l'>l</span>effect of the sea so close on either hand of this vast +western promontory, called the Needle Point, or +the Alum rock, running out upon the ocean like +a long narrow causeway, is awful. You have +a wonderful and rather a painful sensation of +the narrowness of the earth that bears you, +though it may be half a mile, or more, in width. +As the Needle rocks were not visible from the +Light-house, we left the chaise, and descended +the down half a mile, and looked upon them. On +their summits, which now seem sharp, and splintered +into ledges and points, perceived with the glass +numbers of dark birds quietly seated; not one +took wing, or uttered any cry. Perhaps it was +owing to our great height, that the Needles disappointed +us, and appeared insignificant, compared +with the grander objects around us: listened to +the surge breaking below, round the feet of these +rocks. Did not venture near enough the edge to +see into Alum Bay. Drove to Freshwater Bay. +The inn at Freshwater Gate in the bottom is a +little cottage, with two or three rooms apart on +the beach. A ruinous and desolate shore spreads +and rises on either hand. Mounted a promontory, +which confined our view from the inn, on the right. +Greatness and desolation. As the tide was coming +in, could not see a cave in the cliff below. Returned +to Yarmouth at five.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The following is Mrs. Radcliffe’s account of a +visit to the tract called Undercliffe.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_li'>li</span>“Oct. 6. Set off for the Undercliffe, a tract +of shore formed by fallen cliffs, and closely barricadoed +by a wall of rock of vast height. Entered +upon it about a mile from Kniton, and found ourselves +in such a scene of ruin, as we never saw +before. The road is, for the most part, close to +the wall of rock, which seems to lie in loose horizontal +strata, with frequent perpendicular fissures, +which threaten the traveller with destruction, as +he passes sometimes beneath enormous masses, that +lean forward. This is the boundary on one side of +the road; on the other side, is an extremely irregular +and rugged descent of half a mile towards +the sea: on this side, there are sometimes what +may be called amphitheatres of rock, where all +the area is filled with ruins, which are, however, +frequently covered with verdure and underwood, +that stretch up the sides, with the wildest pomp, +and shelter here a cottage, here a villa among the +rocky hillocks. We were two hours and a half in +going from Kniton to the inn at Steephill, five +miles, W. leading the horse almost the whole +way: a Druid scene of wildness and ruin. Sometimes +the road led us into vast semicircular bays +of rock, filled up entirely to the eye with wild +wood and broken hillocks; the sea below appearing +to stretch so from point to point, that it seemed +impossible to make our way out, till the road led +us under projecting crags of the promontory into +other recesses, and, winding under these threatening +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lii'>lii</span>walls, again led near the sea, on which I +looked down, not without terror. Descended upon +the romantic and sweet village of St. Lawrence, +among thickets on a hill, near the shore. Beautiful +cottages, covered with ivy even to the chimney +tops, with each its garden, and some with little +orchards hung with golden fruit; clear, gushing +rills passing under the shades to the sea. A mile +beyond, the beautiful village of Steephill, in the +same style. Went to the New Inn, standing on a +hill, with a wide sea view in front, half a mile +off, and at the foot of St. Boniface Downs, whose +steep green sides rise to a tremendous height behind +it, having below them, on the other hand, the +little woody village of St. Boniface, with its beautiful +cottages and villas.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The remaining memoranda of the visit to Steephill, +are too long to be extracted, but contain some +beautiful descriptions, and several vivid notices of +the effects of light, as for example:—“The sea in +gloom, with gleams of cold silvery light upon it, +where the clouds began to break: these lights +finely marked the distances on the grand surface of +the ocean, as they fell in blue lines.” Again, “Sunlights +on the sea, and, now and then, bright green +spots between black shadows;”—in the evening +“a fiery sunset with <i>sullen</i> clouds.” The following +short recollection of a storm is full of feeling +and power:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“After dark, a storm, with thunder and lightning; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_liii'>liii</span>listened to the strong, steady force of the wind and +waves below. The thunder rolled and burst at +intervals, and often the sound was so mingled with +that of the wind and waves, as to be scarcely distinguished +from it. No complaining of the wind, +but a strong and awful monotony. Lightning, very +blue, showed at moments the foaming waves far +out: utter darkness between the flashes. Glad +to hear from the other side of the house, cheerful +voices talking, or singing. When the storm subsided, +the thunder rolled away towards the Sussex +coast. This display of the elements was the grandest +scene I ever beheld; a token of God directing +his world. What particularly struck me was the +appearance of irresistible power, which the deep +monotonous sound of the wind and surge conveyed. +Nothing sudden; nothing laboured; all a continuance +of sure power, without effort.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>From Steephill the travellers proceeded to Ryde, +where Mrs. Radcliffe made the following characteristic +remarks:—“Rejoice to look again on a +peopled sea, and prefer this point of the Isle, for +animated and beautiful scenery, to any other. +The back of the island has very extensive views; +and, for that extensiveness, may be called grand; +but there are no mountain lines, no shapes, that +overwhelm us with admiration: the want of wood +forbids them magnificence. The undercliff is wild +and romantic, rather than grand; but the sea horizon +from it, is often very grand. Upon the whole, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_liv'>liv</span>I prefer rich beauty to wild beauty, unless accompanied +by such shapes of grandeur as verge upon +the sublime. Lovely sunset; a roseate, melting +into saffron and shades of blue; some light purple +streaks. Below, the dark woody line of shore bending +towards Cowes; the bay at its feet, purpled +from the clouds. All this seen from our bed-room +windows, above and between lofty trees.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe returned by Salisbury. +We extract from the journal the approach to +Salisbury and the description of its Cathedral.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 13. Rainy morning; cleared up to a lovely +afternoon. Left Southampton before twelve, for +Salisbury. Turned out of the road, at the village +of Totting, and soon entered upon the skirts of +the New Forest, but saw no avenues there, no +lovely forest-glades, rather forest-land, than forest; +but we had often rich woody views into the vale, +near Southampton on the right, and continual +forests rising on the left; and a few miles from +Plaitford, came upon some of the sweetest scenery +of the New Forest. Upon a wild glade, touching +effect of misty light, beyond its gloom. Sometimes +an opening in the near copses showed a distant +perspective of deep shade. About five miles from +Salisbury, gain the summit of a high ridge, and +look at once upon a new and grander ridge large +and sharper hills rising to a great extent, with the +vast Cathedral and lofty spire of Salisbury in +front. We had lingered so much on our road, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lv'>lv</span>that as we entered Salisbury, a new moon gave us +faintly the shadow of its sublime Cathedral, with +its pointed roofs and its pinnacles and its noble +spire. How could Mr. Gilpin prefer a tower to +it! Saw, as we passed, the moonlight shining +through the windows of the aisles and touching +aslant the lofty spire, while the elms beside it +were in deep shade. Had entered the city by a +deep Gothic gateway, and saw others lighted up in +perspective, in a street, out of which we turned to +our inn, the Antelope—a very good inn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 14. Went, in the rain, to the Cathedral; +entered it just as the organ and chaunt struck up; +very fine, but not so solemn, as at Canterbury. +The church most light, beautiful and elegant; +but it did not affect me, like the solemn simplicity, +the awful roofs and grand perspective of Canterbury. +The tone of the organ, too, very good, but +did not listen for its swelling and dying sounds, as +through the vast aisles of Canterbury; there is +not space for them to roll in, and murmur afar off, +as there. Was much struck with the effigies of +the dead, laid out on each side of the great aisle, +from pillar to pillar. Having been brought by +Mr. Wyatt from St. Mary’s Chapel, that terminates +the choir, they have been placed on a raised +step, that seems indeed to have been originally +designed for them. The pillars of this Cathedral +are in Gothic clusters, not of the slender form, +that afterwards prevailed, but, as Mr. Gilpin says, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lvi'>lvi</span>“when Saxon heaviness first began to give way.” +Their effect is elegant. They are washed of a +stone colour, as are the walls and roofs; the last +are without tracery, and are marked as if of brick. +The arches are obtusely pointed, having one narrow +vein of open work running near the outer +edge, which gives lightness to them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>After an attempt to visit Stonehenge, which was +frustrated by a violent storm, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe +returned, in the leisurely manner which they +preferred, to London.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the autumn of 1802, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe +took a journey to Leicester and Warwick, and returned +by Woodstock and Oxford. From the +journal kept during that tour, the following descriptions +of Kenilworth, of one or two scenes in +Warwick Castle, and of Blenheim, are perhaps +most worthy of selection. Both Warwick Castle +and Blenheim are described with great minuteness; +but both these mansions are so generally known, +that it is thought sufficient to extract such portions +of the accounts of them only, as are most characteristic +of the writer’s feelings and tastes.</p> + +<h3 class='c015'><span class='sc'>Kenilworth.</span></h3> + +<p class='c016'>“Left Coventry at half past twelve, and passed +through a pleasant well-wooded country to Kenilworth. +Almost every village over-topped with +lofty trees. Passed for some miles over Kenilworth +Chase, by a straight road of noble breadth, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lvii'>lvii</span>bordered with forest. Part of this forest was, in +former times, cut down, in order to dislodge robbers. +The gate of the castle, to which we drove +up, is in the grey square tower, built on a high +rock, by Leicester. This gate being now a residence, +the former entrance by it to the court of +the Castle is stopped up, and we passed through +the garden, at its side, into the green and open +area, that was once the grand court of the castle. +Hence we looked up to the noble masses of ruin, +that still stand proudly, and form three broken and +irregular sides of what was once the inner court. +Of the buildings that formed the fourth side, there +are now no vestiges, except the <i>knolliness</i> of the +ground, where they once stood, may be called +such, and except part of the buildings still called +Leicester’s, these having been built by him. These +are a fine mass of ruined walls, covered with thickest +ivy, on the left; on the right, stands a more +noble mass, with three lofty arches in a row, going +the whole depth of the wall, sixteen feet: this is +called Cæsar’s Tower, and, though the oldest part of +the Castle, appears, on the outside, the freshest and +newest. It is of a greyer and more solid stone +than the rest. This, too, is finely hung with ivy. +Between these masses, in perspective, forming the +third side of the court, is the most picturesque +remainder of the castle, though Cæsar’s Tower is +the grandest. This was once the great hall, or +banqueting-room. Its three beautiful pointed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lviii'>lviii</span>window-frames are there still; and the arch of a +Gothic door, most elegantly twined with vine-leaves, +all now hung and clustered with the richest drapery +of ivy. The trunk of some of this ivy is of +great thickness, and it is so old, that in some +places, the branches are sapless and leafless, and +the grey stalks seemed to crawl about the ruin in +sympathy. Other remains of buildings partly +connect the three sides of the court, and are intermingled +and crowned with alder and ash plants. +This view of the ruin was very striking; the three +chief masses great and solemn, without being beautiful. +They spoke at once to the imagination, +with the force and simplicity of truth, the nothingness +and brevity of this life—‘generations have +beheld us and passed away, as you now behold +us, and shall pass away: they thought of the +generations before them, as you now think of them, +and as future ages shall think of you. We have +witnessed this, yet we remain; the voices that +revelled beneath us are heard no more, yet the +winds of Heaven still sound in our ivy.’ And a +still and solemn sound it was as we stood looking +up at these walls.”</p> + +<h3 class='c015'><span class='sc'>Scenes in Warwick Castle.</span></h3> + +<p class='c016'>“After leaving the great hall, went, on the left, +into the chapel—a plain memorable chapel, lined +with oak; then to the armoury, a long, narrow +gallery, or rather a suite of narrow rooms, communicating +by small Gothic doorways, and extending, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lix'>lix</span>perhaps, nearly the whole length of the +Castle, with tall windows of painted glass, bowing +out into the court of the Castle. The walls of this +armoury were covered with weapons of various +kinds and sizes, from the Indian war-spear, to the +Highland dirk, with a knife and fork tucked into +the same sheath. But what struck me most was +near the end of the gallery (when it makes a sudden +turn into the tower that terminates the castle), +where appeared before me a broad, yet dark +staircase of oak, and at the foot of it, as if guarding +the passage, a large figure in complete armour, +the beaver down, and a sword in its hand! The +general twilight, with the last western gleam breaking +through the painted window at the foot of the +staircase, and touching the bronze, gave full effect +to this scene, and heightened the obscurity of the +stairs, in perspective. This armour came from Germany; +our conductor knew no more. Saw the +brass coat, shot-proof, worn by Lord Brooke when +he was shot in the eye during his attack upon +Lichfield Cathedral. On the opposite side, a complete +suit of black armour, the knees with projecting +points: could learn nothing of its history. +Left the building with regret. Paused again in +the court to admire the beautiful lofty acacias and +other noble trees surrounding the lawn, and the +most majestic towers forming the grand front. +The octagon tower, rising in the angle of the +walls near the house-door, the most beautiful, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lx'>lx</span>as far as regards proportion; the one nearest the +house the most venerable and warlike. Near the +summit an embattled overhanging gallery, where +formerly, no doubt, sentinels used to pace during +the night, looked down upon the walls of the Castle, +the rivers and the country far and wide, received +the watch-word from the sentinel, perched +in the little watch-tower, higher still and seeing +farther in the moonlight, and repeated it to the +soldiers on guard on the walls and gates below. +Before those great gates and underneath these +towers, Shakspeare’s ghost might have stalked; +they are in the very character and spirit of such +an apparition, grand and wild and strange; there +should, however, have been more extent. Stayed +before these grey towers till the last twilight.”</p> + +<h3 class='c015'><span class='sc'>Blenheim.</span></h3> + +<p class='c016'>“Lovely day. At eleven, walked through the +Park. The triumphal arch, at the entrance, has too +much the air of a merely handsome gateway; the +convenient division into passages in the ordinary +mode of considerable gates, leaves nothing appropriate +to Fame. The view of the Park, with +the turrets of the palace, of the mass of wood +beyond, the verdant sweep of the intermediate +ground, that descends to the water, with the +water itself and the Palladian bridge beyond, is +very striking, a few paces after the entrance. +The palace itself, though here seen beyond and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxi'>lxi</span>over clumps of trees, appears to greater advantage +than when more distinctly viewed: its many +turrets, now beheld in clusters, have an air of +grandeur, which they want when separately observable. +As we advance, the groves on the +left thicken and have a forest-like shade; but +the view on the rising ground, including the celebrated +pillar, is too much broken into parts. +Though the ground rises finely, its great flowing +lines are spoiled by too many groves; there should +have been one, or two, grand masses of wood, and +the rest sweeping lawn. This park is not comparable +with that at Knole, either for swell and +variety of surface, or for grandeur and disposition +of wood; no such enchanting groves of plane and +birch and oak, as there. But a very grand avenue +extends from the Oxford gate to the palace. +On entering the garden, of finest turf and shade, +pass the east front to the lawn of the back front, +opening to a view of distant hills between the +high groves. The back front of the house much +the best; more simple, and, seen in perspective, +very good. Parterres in the flower-garden, with +basket-work round them, in the pretty fashion of +the last century in France. Hence, through deep +shade to the sheep-walk, where the light opens +upon the country, and then soon look down upon +another bridge and water. This walk continues +on the brow, for about half a mile, very sweetly, +and leads to a sloping lawn shaded with the noblest +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxii'>lxii</span>trees in the garden. More struck with this spot +than with any, except about the large lake. First, +two poplars of most astonishing height, much +larger than those in the avenue at Manheim. At +their feet, the light green spray foliage of these +deciduous cypresses had a most charming effect. +Near the poplars, a lofty plane, but inferior in +height. Near this, a surprising Portugal laurel +swept the ground, and spread to a vast circumference; +a very extraordinary tree for size. Delighted +with the steep green slope, the water and +bridge below, the abrupt woody banks opposite, +and, above all, the grandeur of the shades. Pass +the bridge: on the right, the massy rocks of the +cascade, but no water; on the left, the water +winding beyond the woody banks; a highly tufted +island, with a wooden building near its margin, +very picturesque.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Over a sofa, in the dining-room, a large family +picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The Duke seated, +and turning to the Marquis of Blandford, when a +boy, with an air and countenance in which the +nobleman and the good man are blended; more +pleasing and dignified than Romney’s portrait of +him. The Duchess, of pleasing countenance, and +much sweetness in her eyes. Of the children, the +most striking is Lady Charlotte (Nares), five or +six years old, playfully holding a mask, and laughing +behind it, as she frightens her sister, who +draws back in doubt and with some apprehension +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxiii'>lxiii</span>but calmly. The figure of Lady C. has all the +natural, playful grace of a child, though the attitude +is rather overstrained. Vandyke’s portrait of +Charles the First’s Queen is not so fine as his +picture of her in the domestic drawing-room at +Warwick Castle.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is in the superior colours and expressive +drawing of the tapestry, that Blenheim chiefly excels +the interior decorations of other great mansions. +That in the state room is from Brussels, +and most exquisite; presented by that city to the +great Duke. It entirely covers the lofty walls. +Each compartment displays a different siege or +battle, and the distance, fading often into blue +hills, is so finely shaded, that the whole seems +almost a living prospect, and that you might step +into the scene. The figures in the foreground +are nearly as large as life, and chiefly portraits: +they are admirably grouped, and the action not +only spirited and natural, but often full of character. +The Duke is always on horseback, and has +the same air of countenance—attentive and eager; +the features somewhat thin. The face of a French +spy, under examination before the Duke, is admirable; +watchful, sedate, and firm. In the next +compartment is a very spirited figure of Lord +Cadogan, on horseback, his hat held off at arm’s +length, receiving orders from the Duke. His +eagerness, proud submission, and impatience to +be gone, while he bends to listen, and can scarcely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxiv'>lxiv</span>rein his impatient charger, are all conspicuous. +His faithful dog, that would be near him in every +battle, and that returned safe home at last, is waiting +beside him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In June 1805, Mrs. Radcliffe went to see Belvedere +House, the seat of Lord Eardley. The +following is an extract from her account of that +mansion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The park entrance from Lexden Heath is +through a low, iron gate, beyond which is seen the +gravel road, winding like a path, among the turf, +under the stately branches of clumps of oak, &c. +Neither the house, nor any good prospect is visible +here; but, as you advance along the elegant +plain of the park, a blue distance of the Essex +hills appears beneath the low-spread branches of +oaks, where there is a seat; on the right, the +Grecian portico of the house, among the deep +shades, which exclude all other view. The entrance +is to a light, elegant hall, or vestibule, of +French grey stucco, as are all the extensive passages +of the house, the floors covered with oilcloth, +of a small pattern, in shades of blue. On +the right, through an ante-room of elegant simplicity, +pass to a dining-room; the walls of French grey; +silk-moreen curtains, orange; chocolate-coloured +fringe. Over the door, two exquisite views +of Venice, by Canaletti; the Alchymist, Teniers, +in a corner near the fire; then Rembrandt (by himself), +looking out of the picture, with a broad +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxv'>lxv</span>smile, a coarse but arch countenance; Van +Trump, the Dutch Admiral, a bluff countenance, +as if the habits of a seaman predominated over +those of the officer. After seeing several other +very fine pictures here, pass some smaller rooms +and elegant passages to the red drawing-room, the +finest in the house; hung with crimson damask, +bordered with gold; curtains and chairs the same, +and a most rich carpet, in crimson and black. A +finely stuccoed carved ceiling; a large bow-window +looking upon the woods of the park. In a shaded +corner, near the chimney, a most exquisite Claude, +an evening view, perhaps over the Campagna of +Rome. The sight of this picture imparted much +of the luxurious repose and satisfaction, which we +derive from contemplating the finest scenes of Nature. +Here was the poet, as well as the painter, +touching the imagination, and making you see +more than the picture contained. You saw the +real light of the sun, you breathed the air of the +country, you felt all the circumstances of a luxurious +climate on the most serene and beautiful +landscape; and, the mind being thus softened, you +almost fancied you heard Italian music on the air—the +music of Paisiello; and such, doubtless, +were the scenes that inspired him. Passed into +smaller rooms, and by the same elegant lobbies, to +the summer drawing-room, where the bowed window +looks down upon a noble sweep of the +Thames, with the well-wooded sloping hills of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxvi'>lxvi</span>Essex in the distance. The noble simplicity +of this long bend of the Thames, and of the +whole scene, is very striking. The eye passes +abruptly, between the hanging woods of two jutting +eminences of the park, to the green level below, +which forms in front a perfect bow of several +miles. The woods near the house are so planted, +as to conceal the entrance and exit of the river +upon the plains below, leaving nothing of it visible +but that line of perfect grace and grandeur +which it marks between the two green shores, while +the vessels seem to steal upon the scene, appearing +and disappearing, on either hand, from behind +the woods. The dark verdure of these, the lighter +green of the plain beneath, the silver grey of the +river that bounds it, the white sails and various +shades of the fleeting vessels, ships with clustering +top-gallant sails, sloops with the stretching and elegantly +swelling sails at their heads and above them, +and skiffs, or other boats, with their little spritsails, +too often bending low:—these, with the hills +of Essex bending into bluish distance, form altogether +a soothing harmony of tints and objects.—Among +other pictures that struck me, (especially +the family of Snyders, by Rubens,) was one of +Wouvermans, representing the dark gate of a +fort, with cavaliers on war-horses, waiting impatiently +for admittance, their horses rearing and +prancing; upon the high, shadowing walls, shrubs +appear against the light sky, and above them is +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxvii'>lxvii</span>seen a high embankment, with a cannon pointed +downwards, and near it a tree, down which a man is +hastily descending, as if he had been overlooking a +skirmish on the plains below, (not in view,) whence +the party without the gate seem to have made +a precipitate retreat. They are, perhaps, waiting +till he has reported to the guard at the gate, whether +they are friends or enemies. The impatience +for admittance of those who think themselves likely +to be pursued, the cautious apprehension of those +within the fort, and the unseen and doubtful +battle, hinted at by the man on the tree, render +this a very interesting picture.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The grand staircase, by which we passed to +the room over this, is remarkable for its lightness +and elegance. All its light is received from a +raised frame of glass, which crowns a most richly +stuccoed roof, that forms a broad border only +round it. I was much struck with the lightness, +proportion, and elegance of this staircased hall, +and indeed with the numerous long passages of +the house. In the family dining-room the pictures +are all portraits. One of the late Lady Eardley, +when young, is a profile of most exquisite sweetness.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>‘Softness and sweetest innocence she wears,</div> + <div class='line'>And looks like Nature, in the world’s first bloom.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c017'>Strong countenance of a tutor of Lord Eardley. +No view, but of the Park, from any of these rooms; +nor from the library, opening by pillars from a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxviii'>lxviii</span>kind of ante-room, or vestibule. Before a cone +at the upper end, is a most noble mahogany library-table +with drawers. Between the windows are +semicircular inlaid tables, with deep drawers for +maps; some valuable modern books, but no old +ones. The art of giving effect to the finest views, +by permitting them to be seen only from the rooms +whence they may be observed without interruption +and in their perfection, is carried very far here; +for, as you advance through the grounds to the +house, the eye is confined by the woods; and is +suffered only once to catch a glimpse of distance +under the spreading shades, sufficient to touch the +imagination and excite expectation of a scene, +whose grandeur and simplicity, when at length it +does appear, fully repays the impatience of curiosity. +We did not see the woody grounds extending +very far along the brow over the Thames, +nor the tower of the Belvedere, nearly at the extremity +of them and on their highest point. This +must look down suddenly upon a new scene of the +river, where it spreads into that broad bay, whose +eastern point projects opposite to the broken steeps +of Purfleet, and comprehends within its curve +Erith, with its ivied church, and the hills around +it, varied with woods and villas, and whose western +point lies near the foot of this eminence, concealed +by the woods. But from a window of this +lofty tower I doubt not the eye extends to Gravesend +in the east, and probably further. Its southern +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxix'>lxix</span>window must look athwart the back of Shooter’s +Hill to the Knockholt beeches on the ridge near +Seven-oaks; and its northern one over Epping +Forest and a great part of Essex. Wherever the +wood-walks open, there must be a glimpse of the +river, and white sails gliding athwart the vista.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the autumn of 1807, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe +visited Knole House for the second time. The +following is a small portion of Mrs. Radcliffe’s reminiscences +of the house, and especially of its pictures.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We were astonished at the extent of this +mansion, and at its vast collection of portraits. +Warwick Castle has the greatest number of Vandyke’s +pictures; Blenheim of Rubens’s; Knole of +Holbein’s, with many of Vandyke too. The old +porter at the first gate had lived about the spot +fifty years; was there in the time of the late Duke’s +grandfather: those were grand times; the late +Dukes were very good, but things had got dearer +then. When we were going, he desired Mr. R. +to write our names in the book, that my lord might +have the <i>pleasure</i> of seeing who had been there.</p> + +<hr class='c018'> + +<p class='c017'>At the upper end of the lofty and noble hall, +where the high table stood, is now a very large +statue of Demosthenes, robed, with buskined feet +and a book or scrowl in his hand; the attitude +composed; the countenance expresses nothing of +the energy and fire that characterize his eloquence. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxx'>lxx</span>It was bought by the late Duke in Italy, for +seven hundred pounds. The brown gallery is almost +covered with portraits by Holbein, the greatest +assemblage of famous persons I ever saw. In +the little closet of entrance, the countenance of +Giardini, the composer, gives you the idea that +he is listening to the long drawn notes of his own +violin. Holbein’s Erasmus, in the gallery, must +be truth itself: the keen and quick, small eye; +the humorous, though serious smile; the thin, +finely-pointed, yet bending nose; the thin-drawn +lips and chin, are all exquisite. In a picture containing +three portraits, that in the middle is of +Luther. His bluff, blunt, strong habits of expression; +his dauntless and persevering mind; his +consciousness of the truth and importance of his +cause, and his resolution to maintain it, are well expressed: +strength and resolution in the chin. On +his right is Melancthon, reasoning, acute, amiable. +On his left, Pomeranius; a somewhat sly and +monkish countenance. Queen Elizabeth and several +of her Court: Salisbury, civil, sagacious and +fastidious; effeminate; very fair: Burleigh, with +a steady, penetrating, grey eye, high forehead, +with black hair; a cast of humour: Leicester, +sturdy and crafty.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Lord Surrey, the poet, young, thin and melancholy. +No very fine pictures in what is called Lady +Betty Germain’s room, which looks delightfully +upon the green and stately alleys of the garden. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxi'>lxxi</span>High state-bed; dingy white plumes crown the +bed-posts. In the dressing-room are three Earls +of Dorset, and drawings by Titian and Michael +Angelo. In another room a state-bed, presented +by James the First. In the dressing-room, among +many fine pictures, is one of Sir Theodore Mayerne, +physician to James the First, and to two of his +successors, by Vandyke: he is seated in an armchair, +and his right hand rests on a human skull; +his own head is grey, and he looks at you with a +mild and sensible countenance, turned a little +towards his left shoulder; the fading look of age, +without actual weakness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In the great dining-room below, Hoppner’s +copy of his portrait of Mr. Pitt, a strong, and, +I think, not a flattering likeness. Fletcher, intelligent, +thoughtful, and tender; brown complexion, +acute black eyes. Beaumont, florid, with +light blue eyes; of an open, cheerful, handsome +countenance. Near the windows is a group of +portraits, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, with +one of himself, in the midst of these his familiar +friends, now all dead. On his right is Doctor +Johnson, drawn bareheaded—a severe deduction +from the harmonies of any frame: it is nearly a +profile; intense thought and anxiety press down +the benevolent brow. On the left is Goldsmith, +painted in the same style, a strong countenance, +but of very different expression; coarse; the eyebrow’s +not bent, like Johnson’s, firmly and evenly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxii'>lxxii</span>over the eyes, but only towards the nose; the +other end highly hoisted, as if with caprice; +unpleasing countenance; nothing of the goodness +of Johnson. Garrick, with a most pleasant and +living look, piercing eyes fixed upon you, with +perfect ease and kindness, as he leans with both +arms on a table; older than the portraits I have +seen. Burke, vulgarized by Opie. Betterton, the +actor, manly, sensible face. Pope, old, wrinkled, +spectre-like. Swift, gentle in comparison with +Pope. Otway, heavy, squalid, unhappy; yet tender +countenance, but not so squalid as one we formerly +saw; full, speaking, black eyes; it seems +as if dissolute habits had overcome all his finer +feelings, and left him little of mind, except a sense +of sorrow. Dryden, in his velvet cap, younger +than usual. Addison, mild. Waller, thinner and +older than usual, with scarce a spark of his fire +left, but still a courtier-like gentleman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In a small, domestic parlour, leading into the +book-room, is that fine picture of Lord Gowrie +and Vandyke, by the latter; the finest portrait I +ever saw, except one of Rubens, by himself, at +Buckingham House, and another at Warwick, in +the cabinet that terminates the long suite of staterooms.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In a blue room, a domestic drawing-room, Lord +Whitworth, a shrewd and comely man of the +world, with spirited and penetrating grey eyes; +an expressive but somewhat clouded brow. The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxiii'>lxxiii</span>Duchess, in a black velvet riding habit, with a hat +and feather, by Opie; a pleasing picture: you do +not think of her in this portrait as of the Duchess, +which is the object of one in the drawing-room, +but as of a happy wife and a good-natured, sensible +woman; a little too much care in the attitude.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In one room a head of Louis the Fourteenth, +all flutter and fume.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The rooms are so numerous and the suites +of them so long, that, though I have seen them +twice, I could not now find my way through +them, and cannot even recollect them all. All the +principal rooms look upon the garden, with its +lawns and lofty shades. Scarcely a spot of brown +earth is visible: so many various tints of green; +the trees sometimes bending their branches down +to the shrubs and flowers.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In the Park, abounding with noble beech groves, +is one, on the left of the road leading to the house, +which, for mass and overtopping pomp, excels +even any in Windsor Park, when viewed as you +descend from the Park gate, whence shade rises +above shade, with amazing and magnificent grandeur. +In this mass of wood is one beech, that +stretches upwards its grey limbs among the light, +feathery foliage to a height and with a majesty +that is sublime. Over a seat, placed round the hole, +it spreads out a light yet umbrageous fan, most +graceful and beautiful. With all its grandeur and +luxuriance, there is nothing in this beech heavy or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxiv'>lxxiv</span>formal; it is airy, though vast and majestic, and +suggests an idea at once of the strength and fire of +a hero! I should call a beech-tree—and this +beech above every other—the hero of the forest, +as the oak is called the king.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the autumn of 1811, Mrs. Radcliffe went +again to Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. The +following extracts bear but a small proportion to +her entire journal of this little tour.—“Passed +through Bere Forest, on the right, with many seats +and woods and spires, around. Almost dusk. An +horizon of glowing crimson lay behind the woods +on the right, where the sun had set. Delightful to +catch the different saffron, crimson, or fiery tints +among the purple streaks. All the prospect lay in +sullen twilight from Portsdown Hill, and it was +quite dark when we reached Portsmouth. Could +just discern the high rampart walks, with trees, +before we rambled under the deep, fortified gateway +of Portsea. Went to the George Inn, a very +large handsome house, with many galleries and +staircases. Handsome furniture and excellent accommodation, +except that you could get nothing +when you wanted it. We had fish brought without +plates, and then plates without bread. All +this owing to a vast throng of company, two hundred +vessels or more being detained by winds, +besides many ships of war. Nothing but ringing +of bells and running about of waiters. If you ask +a waiter a question, he begins a civil answer, but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxv'>lxxv</span>shuts the door before you have heard it all. It +was very diverting to hear the different tones and +measure of the ringings, particularly about supper +time, and the next day about five, when every +body happened to be dining at one and the same +time, to hear them all ringing together, or in quick +succession, in different keys and measure, according +to the worn out, or better, patience of the ringer. +These different keys enabled me to distinguish +how often each bell was rung before it was answered; +also the increasing impatience of the ringer, +till, at the third, or fourth summons, the bell +was in a downright passion. There was a mischievous +amusement in this, after we had gone +through the delay ourselves, and had gotten what +we wanted. Such life and bustle is inspiriting, for +a little while. Before supper, we had been down to +the platform, over the sea. All was indistinct and +vast; the comet high, but no moon; calm. Heard +the falling of the tide—monotonous, not grand—cannon +all around and sentinels; some old seamen.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 11.—Cloudy, with silver gleams. In the +afternoon, sailed in the packet for Ryde. The +wind being contrary, though moderate, we were +two hours and a half on our passage; had a delightful +sail, festooning among all the fleet at Spithead. +A passenger asked ‘What brig is that?’ +as we passed a man-of-war. A midshipman, who +leaned over the side, made no answer. ‘What +brig is that, sir?’—‘The Rover.’ Every body +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxvi'>lxxvi</span>admired this vessel. Two ships of 100 guns, one +of 74, and many of other degrees of force. It +was a grand and glorious sight, this anchored fleet, +at various distances on the gleaming waves, some +in shadow, others upon long lines of distant light, +of coldest silver. Among other passengers were +two Missionaries going to Sierra Leone in the +brig Minerva, belonging to Mr. Macaulay: the +eldest Wilhelm, a German, the younger a Persian; +modest, sedate, well-intentioned men; had some +knowledge of Greek; one of them was taking his +wife with him. The captain of their ship, on board, +seemed to be a good sort of German. Another +captain of a trading ship was a passenger, Captain +Reynolds, going to his ship, the Crescent, +bound for the Mediterranean: a plain, steady, grave +seaman, of the old stamp; good sense, with a pious +tender heart. Said he had carried, or that he was +then about to carry, several hundred copies of +the New Testament in the modern Greek, to be +distributed under the direction of agents of the +British and Foreign Bible Society. Captain ——, +a Cornish man, going to his ship, the Commerce. +These two captains had met “on strands afar +remote,” and now, by accident, on board this +packet. One of them accosted the other with an +apology for some apparent inattention at Malta, +where they had last parted—his ship having been +“so far to leeward.” They talked of parts of +Smyrna, Constantinople, and other ports beyond +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxvii'>lxxvii</span>the Straights, as familiarly as they could of London +or Bristol. Mr. W——, a London merchant, +having a seat somewhere in the west, a tall thin +man, about sixty, with a florid face and white +hair; an unassuming well-bred man. The captain +of the packet, formerly a pilot, had a keen, +steady, dark eye, with a brow low-bent, from attention +to distant objects, and a countenance quick +and firm, that seemed to say he was master of his +business, and proud of it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Landed at Ryde, after a fine sail, through a +grand and interesting scene.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 15.—After a foggy night, a clear and +cloudless day, with the warmth of June. At +Steephill; saw the skirts of the fog clearing up +the steeps of Boniface, like a curtain, and the sea +below brightening from misty grey into it’s soft +blue, and the whole horizon gradually clearing, +till all was cheerful warmth and sunshine, about ten +o’clock. About twelve, we set off to walk to the +Signal-house, on the highest steep of Boniface, not +visible near the house, nor indeed till we had +gone a long way, being on the eastern side of the +down. Followed the steep Newport road, for a +mile or two; looked down on the vast sea-line, +and on the huge promontories and broken rocks of +the Undercliffe. Then, leaving the road, turned +into a field on the right, with heathy steeps and +downs, that would have been capped with clouds, +had there been any. The air keen, and the climate +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxviii'>lxxviii</span>considerably different from that below. The +views astonishing and grand in a high degree. +From these ridges we looked down, on one side, +over the whole interior of the island: but the +sublime view was that to the south; where, as +we seemed perched on an extreme point of the +world, we looked immediately down on hills and +cliffs of various height and form, tumbled in confusion, +as if by an earthquake, and stretching into +the sea, which spreads its vast circumference beyond, +and its various shades of blue. This soft +blue, thus spreading below us, was, in general, +deeper than that of the cloudless sky; and the +sky itself was paler at the horizon than high +above, appearing there like the dawn of light, +and deepening as the arch ascended. This might +be the effect of vapour, drawn up from the sea. +Found our way at length over nearly trackless +furze and heath, to the Signal-house, which looks +down on the steeps of Boniface, and the rocks of +Bonchurch, and over to the sweep of Sandown +Bay, then all over Brading Harbour and the +long coast of Sussex, which, in clear weather, +may be seen as far as Beachy Head.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In returning, we endeavoured to follow a path +down the steeps near Bonchurch, and to find some +steps, cut in the precipice, by which to descend. +The look down upon the shores and sea tremendous—steeps +below steeps, to the surge beating and +whitening below all. Followed, for some time +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxix'>lxxix</span>without dizziness, till we lost our little track, and +saw all around and beneath us scarcely any thing +but pathless descents—tremendous. From the fear +of coming to some impracticable steep in this wild +descent and being unable to find the hewn steps, +we re-ascended to the Signal-house, and so returned +home. The sea a desert, except that a +fine frigate sailed majestically at a distance, and +one brig was also in sight.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How sweet is the cadence of the distant surge! +It seemed, as we sat in our inn, as if a faint peal +of far-off bells mingled with the sounds on shore, +sometimes heard, sometimes lost: the first note of +the beginning, and last of the falling peal, seeming +always the most distinct. This resounding of the +distant surge on a rocky shore might have given +Shakspeare his idea when he makes Ferdinand, in +the Tempest, hear, amidst the storm, bells ringing +his father’s dirge; a music which Ariel also commemorates, +together with the sea-wave:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>‘Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,</div> + <div class='line in4'>Ding, dong, bell!’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“This chiming of the surge is when the tide is +among the rocks, and the wind, blowing from the +sea, bears and softens all the different notes of the +waves to a distance, in one harmonious cadence; +as in a concert, your distance from the orchestra +blends the different instruments into a richer and +softer harmony.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxx'>lxxx</span>From several walks in the neighbourhood of +Steephill, we select the following:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Passed Lord Dysart’s beautiful cottage. It +stands at some distance from the shore, and has +several distinct roofs, well thatched: a large conservatory +stands on a winding lawn, with a fine +beech grove and a long and richly coloured copse, +bending along down, and afterwards along the feet +of cliffs below. The crimson berries of the hawthorn +gave exquisite tints to this coppice, among +the brown and various shades of the autumnal +woods, and appeared in abundance every where +among the trees and wild shrubs of the whole +Undercliffe. The little church of St. Lawrence, +perhaps the smallest in England, stands on a +knoll, and terminates the cultivated valley; immediately +beyond which, we entered upon a scene +of extreme wildness, grandeur and solitude. Many +of the ruinous precipices of the upper cliffs project +in horizontal strata, yet have perpendicular +rents. Some of the shattered masses give most +clear echoes: we stood before one, which repeated +every syllable of several passages from the +most sonorous languages, with an exactness of +tone that was truly astonishing. It seemed as if +a living spirit was in the rock, so near, so loud, +and so exact! ‘Speak to it, Horatio!’ I could +have listened to it for hours. How solemn is the +voice of cliffs and seas! How great the style of +Nature! how expressive! ‘Speak to the rock!’ +and again it gave every word, as if in sport or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxi'>lxxxi</span>imitation, but with truth itself. How long had it +slumbered in silence? We returned by the course +we had come, the yellow sun lighting up seas and +shores with the warmth of May, and the birds +singing every where.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 19.—Left Steephill. Sailed from Cowes +in the Southampton packet, about half past five; +the Naiad frigate lying before the town. What +particularly struck me in the passage was, not only +the sun actually appearing to set in the sea, but +the splendid amber light, left upon that long level +perspective of waters, and the vessels upon it +at various distances, seeming dark on this side, +and marking out its extent to the eye. The grace +and majesty of an anchored ship, too, lying with +her stern to the eye, though at less distance, is indescribable; +showing all her shrouds and yards +lessening, like a pyramid, as they rise upon the +light. How tranquil and grand the scene lay, +beneath the gradually deepening shade! Still the +dark shores and stately vessels kept their dignity +upon the fading waters. How impressive the +silence, and then how according the solemn strain, +that died upon the waves from unseen and distant +bugles, like a song of peace to the departing day! +Another of those measured portions that make up +our span of life, was gone; every one who gazed +upon this scene, proud or humble, was a step +nearer to the grave—yet none seemed conscious of +it. The scene itself, great, benevolent, sublime—powerful, +yet silent in its power—progressive and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxii'>lxxxii</span>certain in its end, steadfast and full of a sublime +repose: the scene itself spoke of its <span class='sc'>Creator</span>.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In this year Mrs. Radcliffe visited Penshurst. +From some very extensive notes upon this ancient +seat of the Sydneys, we extract the following:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“As we drew near, the woods began to thin; +and an old latticed wooden gate showed one entrance +into a park, now in ruins, for the grass is +tall, scanty, and intermingled with taller fern. No +deer appeared on the rusty lawns, or under the +scattered trees, or decaying groves, of this once +rich domain. Penshurst lies in a small valley of +its own, that hangs upon the ridge of hills which +form the southern boundary of the grand valley +overlooked from Riverhill. All its heights are hung +with its own woods, which shut out every distant +prospect from the house, except from the turrets; +and even from these, at least from the one I climbed, +the view is not extensive; but it is a pleasing +scene, with here and there an intermingled spire +and ancient mansion. After following for a considerable +time the paling of this extensive park, +an elderly woman admitted us to it through the +chief gate, and the ancient mansion immediately +appeared over a rough lawn, surrounded with +groves. The house is much in the style of Knole, +but more irregular, and not of half the size. It is +of brick and rough stone, with now a tower, and +now a turret; high lozenge chimneys, an embattled +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxiii'>lxxxiii</span>wall, and, above all, the long peaked roof of the +great hall. In the court, over the arched portal, +is a row of five shields of the family arms, in +stone. The great hall is on the opposite side: it +is grand, but gloomy, showing the dark rafters of +the roof; the tall, pointed windows below shed +but a subdued light on the pavement, which is of +brick. The rafters have been blackened by the +fires of two centuries, lighted on the centre of the +pavement, where the bricks, raised half a foot, +form a small octagon, on which, perhaps, Sir +Philip Sydney and the knights his companions +have often stood round the blazing fagots, piled +upon the same iron dogs, of enormous size, that +still remain there. I think I see, in glimpses, the +strong blaze of the wood flashing on their visages. +The armour of Sir Philip himself, with helm (the +vizor closed), stands at the back of an obscure +gallery, and close beneath a high window, whose +small frames admit a blunted, melancholy light. +It stands like a spectre in arms, watching over the +scene it once inhabited; and is admirably placed to +touch the imagination, but not to gratify curiosity, +its distance being considerable. A partial light, +thrown more strongly on the head, would give it +very fine effect. It is best seen from one of the +doors, that open from the raised step at the upper +end of the hall, where the high table stood.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The hall being so lofty as to seem shorter than +it should be, and than it really is, one of the late +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxiv'>lxxxiv</span>owners, to remedy this defect, had a painted perspective +placed at one end—a most unsuitable expedient +in so great and simple a scene; but the +drawings of knights in armour, larger than life, +between the windows, are well done. Several very +rudely carved wooden images, now whitened and +probably brought from some other part of the +house, are placed in front of the gallery, as if looking +over the railing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Perry, the grandmother of the present +Mr. Sydney, who changed his name from Shelley, +was a niece of Sydney, Earl of Leicester, and co-heiress +with her sister, Lady Howard, of the +Penshurst estates. The old housekeeper, who attended +us, lamented much that Mr. Sydney did +not now live here, but hoped to see him return. +She had been all her life on the spot, and told us +what fine times she remembered when <i>Lady</i> Perry +used to drive to the gate in a coach and six, and +come down with such ‘a sight of servants.’ All +the tenants used to come to meet her, and ‘<i>we +girls</i>’ (the speaker was a grandmother) used to stand +all in a row to meet her. Such noble liveries! and +then the poor woman shook her head, and bustled +about, with emotion. The bells were a ringing all +day, and there were such goings on. ‘Was she +<i>Lady</i> Perry?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ rather sharply, as if astonished +that we could doubt it. ‘Was she a <i>Lady</i> +by birth?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ more sharply, ‘she <i>was</i> +a Lady indeed.’ She led us down a modernized +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxv'>lxxxv</span>winding staircase into a small hall in the chief part +of the mansion, opening into the garden. We +passed a fine Gothic window, that gives light to +it, having painted shields of arms; among them +Queen Elizabeth’s. From the great dining-parlour, +a staircase leads past many rooms lined with +oak panels, worm-eaten; among them the nursery, +which the housekeeper pointed out, with a +strong regret of <i>old times</i>—not those of Sir Philip +Sydney, but of Lady Perry. And there were the +children’s playthings; there they were all—with +some sighs. As I humoured her, she began, in +the midst of her regrets, to apologize for her +dress, and to lament that she had not had time to +appear better. ‘Do the stairs near the nursery +lead to the top of the turret?’—‘I don’t know, +ma’am, but I’ll see.’ I followed to the small +platform, and looked over the battlements upon +the wood and the valley. The view was pleasing, +but not impressive, or extensive.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She led us through the great hall, to see the +kitchen; one suitable to such a hall, with a lofty, +raftered roof, enormous chimney, and long old +tables of oak, not nearly so thick as those in the +hall at Coventry. Here the good woman was at +the climax of her regrets, and she shook her head +and sighed often. ‘It is a dismal place now, and +what do I remember it in <i>Lady</i> Perry’s time! I +remember, when all them hooks,’ pointing to rows +of them that run, at a great height, over the wide +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxvi'>lxxxvi</span>and lofty chimney piece and round the roof, +‘were hung with sides of bacon; ay, I ha’ seen +them all hung with bacon. And here was such a +sight of servants running about, some one way, +some another.’ She then reverted to Lady P.’s +coach and six, and the rejoicings that were to take +place when she came down, and ‘<i>we girls</i> used to +stand all in a row.’ In short, one would have +thought that nobody had ever lived in this mansion +but Lady Perry. As to Sir Philip and the +rest of the Sydneys, they were never thought of +when she spoke of <i>old times</i>—a neglect which at +first somewhat embarrassed me, who thought of +them and old times as inseparable. She took us +into a smaller kitchen, to show us the stoves and +the iron plates, on which, in her old times, teacakes +and crumpets were baked, and related, with +pride, that she used to assist in turning them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In October 1812, Mrs. Radcliffe visited Malvern. +The following is her note of her walk to +the summit of the hills:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oct. 21, 1812.—Having slept at the Foley +Arms hotel, an excellent inn, delightfully situated, +we walked out, about eleven, hoping to reach the +highest point of the Malvern Hills. By the zigzag +turf-path, we reached the little Well-house, +where we came upon the wild turf, and began to +ascend the higher steeps of a mountain. The +hoary crags, in vast masses, looked out from among +the brown and red tints of the autumnal fern, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxvii'>lxxxvii</span>from the green earth, but the crags ceased below +the summits, which were smooth and still green. +Our view here commanded the vast expanse to the +eastward, which we had seen from the inn; but +we now saw over the broad Breedon hill, which +there bounded the horizon in one direction; and +many lines were now visible beyond it. This view +is great and comprehensive, but not sublime; the +elevation reducing the importance of other heights, +so that no single object remains sufficiently striking, +either in form or character, to arrest attention, +and break the uniform harmony of that rich and +woody scene, the vale of the Severn, whose waters +were visible only here and there, in little glimmering +threads of light. At the summit, we could +just discern them near Bristol, rolling in greater +breadth. From the Well-house, we soon reached +a good winding path, cut in the turf, which led us +round one mountain, overlooking other craggy or +green steeps of Malvern, till we caught a first +glimpse of Herefordshire and of the hills of South +Wales, over the ridge, to the west. They were +more distant, and less broken and individual, than +I had hoped, but grand notwithstanding. Having, +at length, turned into a sort of intrenchment, +which runs up to the summit, and divides Worcestershire +and Herefordshire, we walked in this +securely, and with some little shelter from the +winds, till we reached the highest point of Malvern, +and beheld a vast horizon circling at our +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxviii'>lxxxviii</span>feet. Thirteen counties are said to be visible from +this summit, which overlooks the other heights of +Malvern. It is indeed a defect in the scene, that +there are no other supereminent heights, except +those which are too distant to have a fully impressive +effect. Even Breedon hill, that broad feature +in the vale of the Severn, was here too much lowered. +Towns and villages were often distinguishable +chiefly by the wreaths of smoke that spread +from them along the vale, but sometimes by the +broad tower of a church. On a more intent view, +white mansions and woody parks would frequently +appear; and rich meadows, hedge-rows and groves +filled the vale, ascended to the hills of other counties, +and often spread over their summits too. Few +of the mountains of South Wales were sharp, or +very bold, at this distance. On this side of them, +the square mass of the tower of Hereford Cathedral +was perceivable; and, far more southward, +the high, level downs of Clifton. Bristol itself is +sometimes seen hence. The broad Gloucester +hills—the Cotswolds—and the city of Gloucester, +with its noble cathedral, are in the nearer vale. +From this spot, we could distinguish, merely by +turning round, three great cities, with their cathedrals—Gloucester, +Worcester, and Hereford, to +say nothing of the fine abbey-church of Tewksbury. +The tower of Malvern church, once a +priory-church, is also a venerable feature in the +scene. One of the most striking circumstances +<span class='pageno' id='Page_lxxxix'>lxxxix</span>was the vast sweep of shadows and lights thrown +from the clouds over this great prospect. The +mottled expanse of moving lights over the surface +of the wide vale sometimes resembled the billows +of a sea, on which you look down from some lofty +cliff. The lights brought out the villages and +mansions on the knolls of Herefordshire surprisingly; +and many are most charmingly seated.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Radcliffe was particularly interested by +Kenilworth Castle, and spent much time in exploring +its history after she had visited its ruins. The +subject struck her imagination; and in the winter +of 1802, she wrote the tale of Gaston de Blondeville, +now for the first time given to the world. +After this, she undertook no work of magnitude, +but occasionally employed her leisure in composing +poems, from which a selection has been made for +these volumes. In Romance, she probably felt +that she had done enough; and, feeling it impossible +to surpass her “Mysteries of Udolpho” and her +“Italian,” declined again to subject herself to criticism +by publication. Though gratified by a sense of +the enjoyment she had provided for multitudes, and +justly proud of the honest and blameless means by +which it was produced, she rarely alluded to her +novels. At first, the sums she received, though +not necessary, were welcome; but, as her pecuniary +resources became more ample, she was without +sufficient excitement to begin on an extended +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xc'>xc</span>romance, though, had the first effort been made, the +pursuit must have been delightful. Even Gaston +de Blondeville was not intended for the press, and, +having amused herself and her husband, was laid +aside, so disinclined had she become to publication.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is curious that several years after this tale +was written, Mrs. Radcliffe, having forgotten many +of the incidents, perused it with nearly the same interest +as if it had been the production of a stranger. +It was again laid aside; and in the latter part of life +she repeated the experiment, but it did not absorb +her attention as before, the former perusal having +stamped the contents on her memory.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Secluded as Mrs. Radcliffe was from the world, +she was tremblingly alive to every circumstance +which could, by the remotest possibility, raise an +inference injurious to the personal character she +valued far above literary fame; and, as nothing +could induce her to appear before the public in +any sort of contention, every thing of this nature +preyed long upon her mind. She was much affected +by a passage of Miss Seward’s correspondence, +which seemed, to her apprehensive feelings, to convey +an imputation that she had allowed the dramas +afterwards avowed by Miss Baillie to be attributed +to her pen. Miss Seward in one of her letters +dated May 21, 1799, after mentioning the plays, +gave the following quotation from a letter of “her +literary friend and correspondent Mrs. Jackson”—“Before +their author was known, I observed so +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xci'>xci</span>much of the power and defects of Mrs. Radcliffe’s +compositions in these dramas, as to believe them +hers, and I hear she owns them. Mrs. Radcliffe, +in whatever she writes, attentive solely to the end, +is not sufficiently attentive to observe probability +in the means she uses to attain it. She bends her +plan—or, if it will not bend, she breaks it, to her +catastrophe, by making it grow out of the preceding +events. Still she always takes hold of the +reader’s feelings, and effects her purpose boldly +if not regularly. Her descriptive talent, used to +satiety in her novels, is here employed with +more temperance, and consequently to better +purpose.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The imputation thus conveyed was, perhaps, +implicitly removed by two letters of a few months +later date; in one of which Miss Seward, speaking +of the Plays on the Passions, says, “My literary +friends now assert that they are not Mrs. Radcliffe’s;” +and in the other, “The literary world +now asserts, that the Plays on the Passions are +not Mrs. Radcliffe’s;” for, if Mrs. Radcliffe had +really owned them, it is scarcely probable the literary +world could so soon have discredited her +acknowledgment, while the real author remained +unknown. This implied vindication from a charge, +which perhaps no one ever regarded, was not +sufficient for Mrs. Radcliffe’s delicate sense of propriety +and honour. She made inquiries after Mrs. +Jackson, the lady mentioned as Miss Seward’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xcii'>xcii</span>informant, in order that she might trace out the +origin of her rumour. Having learned that Mrs. +Jackson, after residing at Bath, had removed to +Edinburgh, she requested Mr. Davies, of the firm +of Cadell and Davies, who had ample opportunities +of procuring information respecting the literary +society of Edinburgh, to ascertain if Mrs. Jackson +was still in that city. In the result of these +inquiries it appeared, that the lady, to whom the +report was ascribed, had left Edinburgh; that her +residence was unknown; and that she was not +even supposed to be living. Under these circumstances, +Mrs. Radcliffe was obliged to leave her +vindication (as, in truth, she safely might) to the +tenor of her whole literary course; for no one +ever felt, or expressed, more repugnance to factitious +praise, or more strenuously declined to avail +herself of the warmth of private regard in softening +the rigour of criticism. The prayer of the poet, +“O grant an honest fame, or grant me none!” was +the language of all her actions. She even took +pains to prevent some, who, she knew, were desirous +of expressing their sense of her genius, from writing +eulogies on her works, as she could not endure +the conscious degradation of being exalted even +by the genial quackery of friendship. It is scarcely +necessary now to assert, that the supposition of her +having laid claim to the authorship of the Plays on +the Passions, or voluntarily endured the ascription +of those powerful compositions to her pen, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xciii'>xciii</span>was utterly groundless. Rich as these works are +in passion, and richer in fancy, they could not +tempt the author of the Mysteries of Udolpho, +even if she had not been restrained by any higher +feeling than pride, to claim them—not because +they would have been unworthy of her, if she had +written them, but because the secret sense of merited +reputation must alone have created a distaste for +eulogies which she did not deserve. Anxious as +Mrs. Radcliffe was to repel the suggestion, she +felt that, as she could not discover its author, it +would not become her to intrude on Miss Baillie +a denial of the report, which she had not sanctioned; +and the same susceptible delicacy, which +made her feel it so deeply, compelled her to bear +it in silence. The subject, which was always painful +to her, is rather now alluded to as an instance +of the singular apprehensiveness of her moral +sense, than as at all required for the vindication of +her character.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Another circumstance, of a more trivial nature, +gave her uneasiness, though in a less degree. In +one of the published letters of the late Mrs. Carter, +was a passage of a eulogistic nature, alluding to +her works; and to this a note was appended by +the editor, showing that “Mrs. Carter had no +personal acquaintance with Mrs. Radcliffe.” This +statement was literally true; but to her sensitive +nature it seemed to bear the construction, that the +excellent lady referred to would have avoided her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xciv'>xciv</span>acquaintance. The fact, indeed, was exactly the +reverse; for, in the spring of 1799, Mrs. Carter +sent to Mrs. Radcliffe a letter of introduction from +a lady of high respectability at Bath, and proposed +by note to wait on her on the following day; but +Mrs. Radcliffe, being engaged to leave town in +the morning with her husband, whose health required +country air, was obliged respectfully to decline +the intended honour. The correspondence +appeared in the Annual Biography for 1824, with +a short Memoir of Mrs. Radcliffe; and produced +from Dr. Pennington, the writer of the note, a +most handsome letter, in which he earnestly +disclaimed even the slightest idea of disrespect +to Mrs. Radcliffe, stating that he was not aware +of the little correspondence, or he would have +mentioned it with pleasure. Dr. Pennington +also avows, not merely with candour, but cordially, +the admiration and personal respect, with +which Mrs. Carter thought and spoke of Mrs. +Radcliffe.</p> + +<p class='c012'>With more reason, Mrs. Radcliffe was amazed +at an absurd report, that, haunted by the images of +fear, with which she had thrilled her readers, she +had sunk into a state of mental alienation. A +more unphilosophical foundation for an untruth +was never imagined; for it is obvious, that through +all her works she holds entire mastery over the +terrors which she employs, and even sedulously +prepares the means of explaining them by natural +causes. It seems, however, that the authoress of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xcv'>xcv</span>a Tour through England, in noticing the Duke of +Rutland’s venerable and romantic seat, called Haddon +House, asserted that it was there that Mrs. +Radcliffe acquired her taste for castles and ancient +buildings, and proceeded to lament that she had, +for many years, fallen into a state of insanity, +and was under confinement in Derbyshire:—the +fact being, not only that the main assertion was +false, but that all its accompaniments were destitute +of foundation;—for Mrs. Radcliffe was only +in Derbyshire on two occasions, for a few days +each, after her marriage, and never saw Haddon +House at all. This report, the falsehood of +which might have been ascertained by the authoress, +on a reference to her own publisher, was +copied in a larger work of more recent date; +and to complete the fiction, a plate and description +of Haddon House, as the scene of Mrs. Radcliffe’s +early impressions, were annexed by way of illustration. +It also supplied materials for poetry; as in +an “Ode to Terror,” with other effusions, published +by a clergyman in 1810, Mrs. Radcliffe is +bemoaned, as having died in that species of mental +derangement called “the horrors.” Some of +these rumours reached her; but she could not endure +the thought of writing in the newspapers +that she was not insane; and, at last, learned to +smile at the pity of those, who thought her in confinement, +and the charity of others, who had kindly +permitted her to find a release in death from her +supposed intellectual sufferings.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xcvi'>xcvi</span>While the fate of the authoress of Udolpho +was thus considered by the world as sealed, she +was enjoying her wonted recreations and studies, +with entire relish. As, however, curiosity was satiated +with exploring all the finest country within +100 miles of London, and she became more attached +to the comforts of home, she contracted +the sphere of her excursions. Instead of making +journeys of length, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe hired +a carriage for the summer months, in which they +were accustomed to make frequent trips to beautiful +spots in the neighbourhood of London, where +they dined and spent the day at some good inn, and +returned in the evening. Esher, Stanmore, Richmond, +Southgate, and Harrow, were their favourite +places of resort, especially the latter, where they +chose the room, not the largest, but which commands +the richest prospect, and where Crawley +Wood, near Ashridge, could be often distinctly +seen. Mrs. Radcliffe also was much attached to St. +Alban’s, the antiquities of which she explored with +unwearied zeal, and the historical dignity of which +she has vindicated in her longest poem. From 1812 +to 1815 inclusive, she passed much time at Windsor +and its neighbourhood, and formed an intimate +acquaintance with all the recesses of its forest.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“She knew each lane, and every alley green,</div> + <div class='line'>Dingle or bushy dell of those old woods,</div> + <div class='line'>And every bosky bower from side to side.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>She often vividly described the beautiful spots +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xcvii'>xcvii</span>of this regal domain. There was scarcely a tree of +importance, with the peculiar form of which she was +not familiar, and the varieties of whose aspect in +light and shade she could not picture in words. With +reference to their age and to the analogy she fancied +to the lines of monarchs, with which they might +be coeval, she described the trees separately as Plantagenet +oaks, Tudor beeches, or Stuart elms. At +this time, she expressed her feelings in verse, rather +than in prose, and the reader will find them chronicled +in several of her poems. One night-scene +on the terrace, however, deserves to be inserted; +and may be compared with the descriptions of +castellated heights, which abound in her novels.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We stood in the shade on the north terrace, +where a platform projects over the precipice, and +beheld a picture perfect in its kind. The massy +tower at the end of the east terrace stood up +high in shade; but immediately from behind it +the moonlight spread, and showed the flat line of +wall at the end of that terrace, with the figure of +a sentinel moving against the light, as well as a +profile of the dark precipice below. Beyond it, +was the park and a vast distance, in the faint light, +which spread over the turf, touched the avenues, +and gave fine contrast to the deep shades of the +wooded precipice, on which we stood, and to the +whole line of buildings, which rise on the north +terrace. Above this high dark line the stars appeared +with a very sublime effect. No sound but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xcviii'>xcviii</span>the faint clinking of the soldier’s accoutrements, +as he paced on watch, and the remote voices of +people turning the end of the east terrace, appearing +for a moment in the light there and vanishing. +In a high window of the tower a light. Why is +it so sublime to stand at the foot of a dark tower, +and look up its height to the sky and the stars?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What particularly strikes at Windsor is the +length of terrace in the east, thus seen by moonlight; +the massy towers, four in perspective; the +lights and shades of the park below, the obscure +distance beyond them, the low and wide horizon, +which you seem to look upon, the grandeur of the +heavenly arch, which appears to spring from it, and +the multitude of stars, which are visible in so vast +and uninterrupted a view. Then the north terrace +stretching and finally turning away from them +towards the west, where high dark towers crown +it. It was on this terrace, surely, that Shakspeare +received the first hint of the time for the appearance +of his ghost.—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in16'>‘Last night of all,</div> + <div class='line'>When yon same star that westward from the Pole</div> + <div class='line'>Had made his course to illume that part of heaven</div> + <div class='line'>Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,</div> + <div class='line'>The bell then beating one——’”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>From inclination, Mrs. Radcliffe was minutely +attentive to her household affairs, probably thinking +with Schiller, that, after all, one of the best +enjoyments of life arises from the exact performance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_xcix'>xcix</span>of some mechanical duty. Although by no +means disposed to parsimony, she kept an exact +account of daily disbursements, until a very short +time before her death. Much of her leisure was +spent in reading the literary productions of the +day, especially poetry and novels. Of the latter +works she always spoke with an entire freedom +from jealousy, and devoured the earlier Scotch +novels with all the avidity of youth, although she +felt deeply a slighting expression in “Waverley,” +towards herself, which the author might have +spared. Sir Walter Scott has, however, made +ample amends to her reputation by his elaborate +criticism prefixed to Ballantine’s edition of her romances. +To music she was passionately attached, +and sang herself with exquisite taste, though her +voice, remarkably sweet, was limited in compass. +At the Opera she was a frequent visitor, and on her +return home would sit up singing over the airs she +had heard, which her quickness of ear enabled her +to catch, till a late hour. She was peculiarly affected +by sacred music, and occasionally went to +the oratorios, when they afforded her the opportunity +of listening to the compositions of Handel. +She sometimes, though more rarely, accompanied +Mr. Radcliffe to the theatres; and was a warm +admirer of Mrs. Siddons, whom she recollected at +Bath, when herself was young. She used to speak +with much pleasure of having seen this great actress, +before the commencement of her splendid +<span class='pageno' id='Page_c'>c</span>career in London, going to Church with her little +son Henry, and was struck by her exceeding dignity +and grace. When she visited the theatre, +Mrs. Radcliffe generally sat in the pit, partly +because her health required warm clothing, and +partly because, in that situation, she felt more +withdrawn from the observation she disliked. She +was fond of listening to any good verbal sounds, +and would often desire to hear passages from the +Latin and Greek classics, requiring at intervals the +most literal translations, that could be given, however +much the version might lose in elegance by +the exactness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>During the last twelve years of her life, Mrs. +Radcliffe suffered at intervals from a spasmodic +asthma, which occasioned a general loss of health, +and called for the unwearied attentions of her affectionate +husband. In the hope of obtaining +relief, she visited Ramsgate in the autumn of +1822, and, deriving benefit from the air, recurred +to her old habit of noting down her impressions +of scenery. The following is the last she ever +wrote.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ramsgate, Saturday morning, Oct. 19, 1822.—Stormy +day, rain without sun, except that early +a narrow line of palest silver fell on the horizon, +showing, here and there, distant vessels on their +course. Ships riding in the Downs, exactly on the +sea-line, over the entrance into the harbour, opposite +to our windows, were but dim and almost shapeless +<span class='pageno' id='Page_ci'>ci</span>hints of what they were. Many vessels, with sails +set, making for the port; pilot-boats rowed out of +the harbour to meet them; the tide rolling in, +leaving the foaming waves at its entrance, where +vessels of all kinds, from ships to fishing-boats, +appeared in succession, at short intervals, dashing +down among the foam, and rushing into the harbour. +The little black boats around them often +sunk so low in the surge, as to be invisible for a +moment. This expansive harbour, encircled by +the noble piers, might be considered as a grand +theatre, of which the entrance and the sea beyond +were the stage, the two pier-heads the portals, the +plain of the harbour the pit, and the houses at +the end of it the front boxes. This harbour was +not now, as some hours since, flooded with a silver +light, but grey and dull, in quiet contrast with +the foaming waves at its entrance. The horizon +thickened, and the scene around seemed to close +in; but the vessels, as they approached, though +darker, became more visible and distinct, the sails +half-set, some nearly whole set. They all kept +away a little to the westward of the west pier, the +wind south-west, then changed their course, and +dashed round the light-house pier-head, tossing +the foam high about them, some pitching head +foremost, as if going to the bottom, and then +rolling helplessly, and reeling in, settled in still +waters. A lofty tide.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Although the health of Mrs. Radcliffe was improved +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cii'>cii</span>by this excursion, she was much affected +by the severe cold in the beginning of the ensuing +winter. On the ninth of January, 1823, another +attack of her disease commenced, which ultimately +proved fatal. At first it appeared less serious than +some of her previous seizures; but it soon became +alarming. On the eleventh of January, Dr. Scudamore, +to whose care she had formerly been indebted, +was called in, and did every thing for +her that skill and tenderness could suggest; but in +vain. A few days before her death, an account, +which she had accidentally read, of a shocking murder +recently perpetrated, pressed on her memory, +and joined with the natural operation of the disease +to produce a temporary delirium. From this, +however, she completely recovered, and remained +sensible to the last. On the sixth of February, she +did not appear to be in any immediate danger, +though in a state of great weakness. At twelve at +night, Mr. Radcliffe assisted in giving her some refreshment, +which she took with apparent satisfaction, +her last words being, “There is some substance +in that.” She then fell into a slumber; but, +when Mr. Radcliffe, who had been sitting up in the +next room, re-entered her apartment, in the course +of an hour or two, she was breathing rather hardly, +and neither he nor the nurse was able to awake +her. Dr. Scudamore was instantly sent for; but, +before his arrival, she tranquilly expired, at between +two and three o’clock in the morning of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_ciii'>ciii</span>seventh of February, 1823, being in the 59th year +of her age. Her countenance after death was delightfully +placid, and continued so for some days. +Her remains were interred in a vault in the +Chapel of Ease, at Bayswater, belonging to St. +George’s, Hanover Square.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As, since Mrs. Radcliffe’s death, the story of +her mental alienation has been revived, in reference +to her later days, it has been deemed right to +apply to Dr. Scudamore for an authentic statement, +which he has kindly given, and which must +set such idle reports entirely at rest. It is as +follows:</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Radcliffe had been for several years subject +to severe catarrhal coughs, and also was occasionally +afflicted with asthma.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In March 1822, she was ill with inflammation +of the lungs, and for a considerable time +remained much indisposed. With the summer +season and change of air, she regained a tolerable +state of health.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In the early part of January 1823, in consequence +of exposure to cold, she was again attacked +with inflammation of the lungs, and much more +severely than before. Active treatment was immediately +adopted, but without the desired relief; +and the symptoms soon assumed a most dangerous +character. At the end of three weeks, however, +and contrary to all expectation, the inflammation +of the lungs was overcome; and the amendment +<span class='pageno' id='Page_civ'>civ</span>was so decided, as to present a slight prospect of +recovery.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Alas! our hopes were soon disappointed. Suddenly, +in the very moment of seeming calm from +the previous violence of disease, a new inflammation +seized the membranes of the brain. The +enfeebled frame could not resist this fresh assault: +so rapid in their course were the violent symptoms, +that medical treatment proved wholly unavailing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In the space of three days, death closed the +melancholy scene.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In this manner, at the age of fifty-nine, society +was deprived of a most amiable and valuable +member, and literature of one of its brightest +ornaments.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The foregoing statement will, I hope, afford +all the explanation, which can be required, of +the nature of Mrs. Radcliffe’s illness. During the +whole continuance of the inflammation of the lungs, +the mind was perfect in its reasoning powers, and +became disturbed only on the last two or three +days, as a natural consequence of the inflammation +affecting the membranes of the brain.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Previously to the last illness, and at all times, +Mrs. Radcliffe enjoyed a remarkably cheerful state +of mind; and no one was farther removed from +“mental desolation,” as has been so improperly +described of the latter part of her life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She possessed a quick sensibility, as the necessary +ally of her fine genius; but this quality would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cv'>cv</span>serve to increase the warmth of the social feelings, +and effectually prevent the insulation of the +mind, either as regards the temper or the understanding.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Radcliffe was, in her youth, exquisitely +proportioned, though she resembled her father, +and his brother and sister, in being low of stature. +Her complexion was beautiful, as was her whole +countenance, especially her eyes, eyebrows, and +mouth. She was educated in the principles of the +Church of England; and through life, unless prevented +by serious indisposition, regularly attended +its services. Her piety, though cheerful, was deep +and sincere. Although perfectly well bred, and endowed +with faculties and tastes which rendered her +a delightful companion, she wanted that confidence +which is necessary to mixed society, and which +she could scarcely acquire, without losing something +of the delicacy of feeling, which marked her +character. If, in her retirement, she was sometimes +affected by circumstances which would have +passed unheeded amidst the bustle of the world, +she was more than repaid by the enjoyments, +which were fostered in the shade; and perhaps +few distinguished authors have passed a life so +blameless and so happy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Radcliffe may fairly be considered as the +inventor of a new style of romance; equally distinct +from the old tales of chivalry and magic, and +from modern representations of credible incidents +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cvi'>cvi</span>and living manners. Her works partially exhibit +the charms of each species of composition; interweaving +the miraculous with the probable, in consistent +narrative, and breathing of tenderness and +beauty peculiarly her own. The poetical marvels +of the first fill the imagination, but take no hold +on the sympathies, to which they have become +alien: the vicissitudes of the last awaken our curiosity, +without transporting us beyond the sphere +of ordinary life. But it was reserved for Mrs. +Radcliffe to infuse the wondrous in the credible; +to animate rich description with stirring adventure; +and to impart a portion of human interest +to the progress of romantic fiction. She occupied +that middle region between the mighty dreams of +the heroic ages and the realities of our own, which +remained to be possessed; filled it with goodly +imagery; and made it resonant with awful voices. +Her works, in order to produce their greatest impression, +should be read first, not in childhood, for +which they are too substantial; nor at mature age, +for which they may seem too visionary; but at +that delightful period of youth, when the soft twilight +of the imagination harmonizes with the luxurious +and uncertain light cast on their wonders. +By those, who come at such an age to their perusal, +they will never be forgotten.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The principal means, which Mrs. Radcliffe employed +to raise up her enchantments on the borders +of truth, are, first, her faculty of awakening +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cvii'>cvii</span>emotions allied to superstitious fear; and, secondly, +her skill in selecting and describing scenes and +figures precisely adapted to the feelings she sought +to enkindle. We will examine each of these +powers, and then shortly advert to their developement +in her successive romances.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I. The art, by which supernatural agency +is insinuated, derives its potency from its singular +application to human nature, in its extremes of +weakness and strength. Simply considered, fear +is the basest of emotions, and the least adapted +to the dignity of romance; yet it is that, of which +the most heroic heart sometimes whispers a confession. +On the other hand, every thing, which tends +to elevate and ennoble our feelings, to give the +character of permanency to our impressions, +and impart a tongue to the silence of nature, +has reference to things unseen. The tremblings +of the spirit, which are base when prompted by +any thing earthly, become sublime when inspired +by a sense of the visionary and immortal. They +are the secret witnesses of our alliance with power, +which is not of this world. We feel both our +fleshly infirmity and our high destiny, as we shrink +on the borders of spiritual existence. Whilst we +listen for echoes from beyond the grave, and search +with tremulous eagerness for indications of the unearthly, +our Curiosity and Fear assume the grandeur +of passions. We might well doubt our own immortality, +if we felt no restless desire to forestal the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cviii'>cviii</span>knowledge of its great secret, and held no obstinate +questionings with the sepulchre. We were not +of heavenly origin, if we did not struggle after a +communion with the invisible; nor of human flesh, +if we did not shudder at our own daring;—and it +is in the union of this just audacity and venial +terror, that we are strangely awed and affected. +It is, therefore, needless to justify the use of the +supernatural in fiction; for it is peculiarly adapted +to the workings of the imagination—that power, +whose high province is to mediate between the +world without us and the world within us; on the +one hand to impart sentiment and passion to the +external universe, and make it redolent of noble associations; +and, on the other, to clothe the affections +of the heart and the high suggestions of the +reason with colour and shape, and present them +to the mind in living and substantial forms.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There are various modes, in which the supernatural +may be employed, requiring more or less +of a dextrous sympathy, in proportion to the depth +and seriousness of the feeling, which the author +proposes to awaken. In cases where the appeal is +only made to the fancy, it is sufficient if the pictures +are consistent with themselves, without any +reference to the prejudices, or passions, of those, before +whom they are presented. To this class the fables +of the Greek mythology belong, notwithstanding +their infinite varieties of grandeur and beauty. They +are too bright and palpable to produce emotions of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cix'>cix</span>awe, even among those, who professed to believe +them; and rather tended to inclose the sphere of +mortal vision, which they adorned and gladdened, +with more definite boundaries, than to intimate +the obscure and eternal. Instead of wearing, then, +the solemn aspect of antiquity, they seem, even +now, touched with the bloom of an imperishable +youth. The gorgeous Oriental fictions and modern +tales of fairy lore are also merely fantastical, +and advance no claim on faith, or feeling. Their +authors escape from the laws of matter, without +deriving any power from the functions of spirit; +they are rather without than above nature, and seek +only an excuse in the name of the supernatural for +their graceful vagaries. Akin essentially to these are +mere tales of terror, in which horrors are accumulated +on horrors. Beyond the precincts of the nursery, +they are nothing but a succession of scenic representations—a +finely coloured phantasmagoria, +which may strike the fancy, but do not chill the +blood, and soon weary the spectator. It is only the +“eye of childhood” which “fears a painted devil.” +In some of the wild German tales, indeed, there is, +occasionally, a forcible exaggeration of truth, which +strikes for a moment, and seems to give back the +memory of a forgotten dream. But none of these +works, whatever poetical merit they may possess, +have the power to fascinate and appal, by touching +those secret strings of mortal apprehension, +which connect our earthly with our spiritual being.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_cx'>cx</span>In these later days, it, no doubt, requires a fine +knowledge of the human heart to employ the supernatural, +so as to move the pulses of terror. Of +all superstitions, the most touching are those, which +relate to the appearance of the dead among the +living; not only on account of the reality which +they derive from mingling with the ordinary business +of life, but of the cold and shuddering sympathy +we feel for a being like to whom we may +ourselves become in a few short years. To bring +such a vision palpably on the scene is always a +bold experiment, and usually requires a long note +of preparation, and a train of circumstances, which +may gradually and insensibly dispose the mind to +implicit credence. Yet to dispense with all such +appliances, and to call forth the grandest spirit, +that ever glided from the tomb, was not beyond +Shakspeare’s skill. A few short sentences +only prepare the way for the ghost of the murdered +King of Denmark; the spirit enters, and we +feel at once he is no creature of time; he speaks, +and his language is “of Tartarus, and the souls +in bale.” Such mighty magic as this, however, belonged +only to the first of poets. Writers who, in +modern times, have succeeded in infusing into the +mind thoughts of unearthly fear, have usually taken +one of these two courses: either they have associated +their superstitions with the solemnities of +nature, and contrived to interweave them in the +very texture of life, without making themselves responsible +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxi'>cxi</span>for the feelings they excite: or they have, +by mysterious hints and skilful contrivances, excited +the curiosity and terror of their readers, till +they have prepared them either to believe in any +wonder they may produce, or to image for themselves +in the obscurity fearful shapes, and to feel +the presence of invisible horrors.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Those, who seek to create a species of supernatural +interest by the first of these processes, find +abundant materials adapted to their use in the +noblest parts of our own intellectual history. +There are doubtful phenomena within the experience +of all reflecting minds, which may scarcely +be referred to their mere mortal nature, and which +sometimes force on the coldest sceptic a conviction, +that he is “fearfully” as well as “wonderfully +made.” Golden dreams hover over our +cradle, and shadows thicken round the natural +descent of the aged into the grave. Few there +are, who, in childhood, have not experienced some +strange visitings of serious thought, gently agitating +the soul like the wind “that bloweth where +it listeth,” suggesting to it holy fancies, and +awakening its first sympathy with a world of sorrow +and of tears. Who has not felt, or believed +that he has felt, a sure presentiment of approaching +evil? Who, at some trivial occurrence, +“striking the electric chord by which we are +darkly bound,” has not been startled by the sudden +revival of old images and feelings, long buried in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxii'>cxii</span>the depth of years, which stalk before him like +the spectres of departed companions? Who has +not shrunk from the fascination of guilty thoughts, +as from “supernatural soliciting?” Where is the +man so basely moulded, that he does not remember +moments of inspiration, when statelier images +than his common intellect can embody, hopes and +assurances brighter than his constitutional temperament, +may recal, and higher faculties within +himself than he has ever been able to use, have +stood revealed to him like mountain-tops at the +utmost reach of vision, touched by a gleam of the +morning sun? And who, in the melancholy calm +of the mind, sadly looking into its depths, has not +perceived the gigantic wrecks of a nobler nature, as +the fortunate voyager on some crystal lake has discerned, +or fancied he discerned, the wave-worn +towers of a forgotten city far in the deep waters? +There are magic threads in the web of life, which a +writer of romance has only to bring out and to touch +with appropriate hues of fancy. From the secret +places of the soul are voices more solemn than from +old superstitions, to which he may bid us hearken. +In his works, prophecies may be fulfilled; presentiments +justified; the history of manhood may answer +to the dreams of the nursery; and he may +leave his readers to assert if they can, “These +have their causes; they are natural.” Let him +only give due effect to the problem, and he may +safely trust their hearts to supply the answer!</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_cxiii'>cxiii</span>The other mode of exciting terror requires, perhaps, +greater delicacy and skill, as the author +purposes to influence the mind directly from without, +instead of leaving it, after receiving a certain +clue, to its own workings. In this style, up to +the point where Mrs. Radcliffe chooses to pause +and explain, she has no rival. She knows the +string of feeling she must touch, and exactly proportions +her means to her design. She invariably +succeeds not by the quantity but the quality of +her terrors. Instead of exhibiting a succession of +magnificent glooms, which only darken the imagination, +she whispers some mysterious suggestion +to the soul, and exhibits only just enough of her +picture to prolong the throbbings she has excited. +In nothing is her supremacy so clearly shown, as in +the wise and daring economy, with which she has +employed the instruments of fear. A low groan +issuing from distant vaults; a voice heard among +an assembly from an unknown speaker; a little +track of blood seen by the uncertain light of a +lamp on a castle staircase; a wild strain of music +floating over moonlight woods; as introduced by +her, affect the mind more deeply than terrible incantations, +or accumulated butcheries. “Pluck +out the heart of her mystery!”—tell, at once, the +secret, the lightest hint of which appals—verify +the worst apprehensions of the reader; and what +would be the reality in common hands? You can +suspect nothing more than a cruel murder perpetrated +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxiv'>cxiv</span>many years ago by an unprincipled monk, +or an avowed robber! Why should we suffer all +the stings of curiosity on such an issue? Human +life is not held so precious, murder is not so +strange and rare an occurrence, that we should +be greatly agitated by the question whether, two +centuries ago, a bandit destroyed one of his captives; +but the skill of the writer, applying itself +justly to the pulses of terror in our intellectual +being, gives tragic interest to the inquiry, +makes the rusted dagger terrible, and the spot of +blood sublime. This faculty is the more remarkable, +as it is employed to raise a single crime into +importance; while others of equal dye are casually +alluded to, and dismissed, as deeds of little note, +and make no impression on the reader. Assassins +who murder for hire, commonly excite no feeling +in romance, except as mere instruments, like the +weapons they use; but, when Mrs. Radcliffe chooses +to single out one of these from the mass, though +undistinguished by peculiar characteristics, she rivets +our attention to Spalatro, as by an irresistible +spell; forces us to watch every movement of his +haggard countenance, and makes the low sound of +his stealthy footsteps sink into the soul. Her faculty, +therefore, which has been represented as +melo-dramatic, is akin to the very essence of tragic +power, which is felt not merely in the greatness of +the actions, or sorrows, which it exhibits, but in its +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxv'>cxv</span>nice application to the inmost sources of terror and +of pity.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is extraordinary, that a writer thus gifted +should, in all her works intended for publication, +studiously resolve the circumstances, by which +she has excited superstitious apprehensions, into +mere physical causes. She seems to have acted on +a notion, that some established canon of romance +obliged her to reject real supernatural agency; +for it is impossible to believe she would have +adopted this harassing expedient if she had felt at +liberty to obey the promptings of her own genius. +So absolute was her respect for every species of +authority, that it is probable she would rather have +sacrificed all her productions, than have transgressed +any arbitrary law of taste, or criticism. It +is equally obvious, that there is no valid ground of +objection to the use of the supernatural, in works +of fiction, and that it is absolutely essential to the +perfection of that kind of romance, which she invented. +To the imagination it is not only possible, +but congenial, when introduced with art, +and employed for high and solemn purposes. +Grant only the possibility of its truth, which “the +fair and innocent” are half disposed to believe, +and there is nothing extravagant in the whole +machinery, by which it works. But discard it altogether, +and introduce, in its stead, a variety of +startling phenomena, which are resolved at last +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxvi'>cxvi</span>into petty deceptions and gross improbabilities, +and you at once disappoint the fancy, and shock +the understanding of the reader. In the first +case, the reason is not offended, because it is not +consulted; in the last, it is expressly appealed to +with the certainty of an unfavourable decision. +Besides it is clear that all the feelings created up +to the moment of explanation, and which it has +been the very object of the author to awaken, have +obeyed the influence of these very principles, which +at last she chooses to disown. If the minds to +whom the work is addressed were so constituted as +to reject the idea of supernatural agency, they +would be entirely unmoved by the circumstances +arranged to produce the impression of its existence; +and “The Mysteries of Udolpho” would +have fallen still-born from the press! Why then +should the author turn traitor to her own “so +potent art?” Why, having wrought on the fears +of her readers till she sways them at her will, must +she turn round and tell them they have been awed +and excited by a succession of mockeries? Such +impotent conclusions injure the romances as works +of art, and jar on the nerves of the reader, which +are tuned for grand wonders, not paltry discoveries. +This very error, however, which injures the effect +of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works, especially on a second +perusal, sets off, in the strongest light, the wizard +power of her genius. Even when she has dissolved +mystery after mystery, and abjured spell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxvii'>cxvii</span>after spell, the impression survives, and the reader +is still eager to attend again, and be again deluded. +After the voices heard in the chambers of Udolpho +have been shown to be the wanton trick of a +prisoner, we still revert to the remaining prodigies +with anxious curiosity, and are prepared to give +implicit credence to new wonders at Chateau le +Blanc. In the romance of Gaston de Blondeville, +Mrs. Radcliffe, not intending to publish, gratified +herself by the introduction of a true spectre; and, +without anticipating the opinion of the public on +that work, we may venture to express a belief, that +the manner, in which the supernatural agency is +conducted, will deepen the general regret, that she +did not employ it in her longer and more elaborate +productions.</p> + +<p class='c012'>II. Mrs. Radcliffe’s faculties of describing and +picturing scenes and appropriate figures was of +the highest order. Her accurate observation of +inanimate nature, prompted by an intense love of +all its varieties, supplied the materials for those +richly coloured representations, which her genius +presented. Without this perception of the true, +the liveliest fancy will only produce a chaos of +beautiful images, like the remembered fragments +of a gorgeous dream. How singularly capable +Mrs. Radcliffe was of painting the external world, +in its naked grandeur, her published tour among +the English Lakes, and, perhaps still more, the +notes made on her journeys for her own amusement, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxviii'>cxviii</span>abundantly prove. In the first, the boldness +and simplicity of her strokes, conveying the +clear images to the eye of the mind, with scarcely +any incrustation of sentiment, or perplexing dazzle +of fancy, distinguish her from almost all other +descriptive tourists. Still the great charm of simplicity +was hardly so complete, as in her unstudied +notices of scenery; because in writing for the press, +it is scarcely possible to avoid altogether the temptation +of high sounding and ambiguous expressions, +which always impede the distant presentiment of +material forms. To this difficulty, she thus adverts +in her account of Ulswater. “It is difficult to +spread varied pictures of such scenes before the +imagination. A repetition of the same images of +rock, wood, and water, and the same epithets of +grand, vast, and sublime, which necessarily occur, +must appear tautologous, though their archetypes +in nature, ever varying in outline or arrangement, +exhibit new visions to the eye, and produce new +shades of effect on the mind.” In the journals, +as no idea of authorship interposed to give restraint +to her style, there is entire fidelity and truth. She +seems the very chronicler and secretary of nature; +makes us feel the freshness of the air; and listen +to the gentlest sounds. Not only does she keep +each scene distinct from all others, however similar +in general character; but discriminates its shifting +aspects with the most delicate exactness. No +aerial tint of a fleecy cloud is too evanescent to be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxix'>cxix</span>imaged in her transparent style. Perhaps no +writer in prose, or verse, has been so happy in describing +the varied effects of light in winged words. +It is true, that there is not equal discrimination in +the views of natural scenery, which she presents in +her romances. In them she writes of places, which +she has not visited; and, like a true lover, invests +absent nature with imaginary loveliness. She looks +at the grandeurs and beauties of creation through +a soft and tender medium, in which its graces are +heightened, but some of its delicate varieties are +lost. Still it is nature that we see, though touched +with the hues of romance, and which could only be +thus presented by one who had known, and studied +its simple charms.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the estimate of Mrs. Radcliffe’s pictorial +powers, we must include her persons as well as her +scenes. It must be admitted that, with scarcely +an exception, they are figures rather than characters. +No writer ever produced so powerful an +effect, without the aid of sympathy. Her machinery +acts directly on her readers, and makes them +tremble and weep, not for others, but for themselves. +Adeline, Emily, Vivaldi, and Ellena, are +nothing to us, except as filling up the scene; but +it is we ourselves, who discover the manuscript in +the deserted abbey; we, who are prisoners in the +castle of Udolpho; we, who are inmates of Spalatro’s +cottage; we, who stand before the secret +tribunal of the Inquisition, and even there are +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxx'>cxx</span>startled by the mysterious voice deepening its horrors. +The whole is prodigious painting, so entire +as to surround us with illusion; so cunningly arranged +as to harrow up the soul; and the presence +of a real person would spoil its completeness. As +figures, all the persons are adapted with peculiar +skill to the scenes in which they appear;—the +more, as they are part of one entire conception. +Schedoni is the most individual and fearful; but +through all the earlier parts of the romance, he +stalks like a being not of this world; and works +out his purposes by that which, for the time at +least, we feel to be superhuman agency. But +when, after glaring out upon us so long as a present +demon; or felt, when unseen, as directing the +whole by his awful energies; he is brought within +the range of human emotion by the discovery of +his supposed daughter, and an anxiety for her +safety and marriage; the spell is broken. We +feel the incongruity; as if a spectre should weep. +To develope character was not within the scope of +Mrs. Radcliffe’s plan, nor compatible with her +style. At one touch of human pathos the enchantment +would have been dissolved, as spells are +broken by a holy word, or as the ghost of Protesilaus +vanished before the earthly passion of his +enamoured widow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As the absence of discriminated feeling and character +was necessary to the completeness of the effect +Mrs. Radcliffe sought to produce, so she was rather +assisted by manners peculiarly straight-laced and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxi'>cxxi</span>timorous. A deep vein of sentiment would have +suggested thoughts and emotions inconsistent with +that “wise passiveness,” in which the mind should +listen to the soft murmur of her “most musical, +most melancholy” spells. A moral paradox could +not co-exist with a haunted tower in the mind of +her readers. The exceeding coldness and prudence +of her heroines do not abstract them from +the scenes of loveliness and terror through +which we desire to follow them. If her scrupulous +sense of propriety had not restrained her +comic powers, Mrs. Radcliffe would probably +have displayed considerable talent for the humorous. +But her talkative servants are all very +guarded in their loquacity; and even Annette, +quaintly and pleasantly depicted, fairly belongs +to the scene. Her old-fashioned primness of +thought, which with her was a part of conscience, +with all its cumbrous accompaniments, serves at +once to render definite, and to set off, her fanciful +creations. Romance, as exhibited by her, “tricked +in antique ruff and bonnet,” has yet eyes of youth; +and the beauty is not diminished by the folds of the +brocade, or the stiffness of the damask stomacher.</p> + +<p class='c012'>These remarks apply, in their fullest effect, only +to “<cite>The Mysteries of Udolpho</cite>,” and “<cite>The Italian</cite>,” +in which alone the chief peculiarities of Mrs. Radcliffe’s +genius are decidedly marked. In her first +work, “<cite>The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne</cite>,” it is +scarcely possible to discover their germ. Its scene +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxii'>cxxii</span>is laid “in the most romantic part of the Highlands +of Scotland,” yet it is without local truth or striking +picture. It is at once extravagant and cold. +Except one scene, where the Earl of Athlin pursues +two strangers through the vaults of his castle, +and is stabbed by one of them in the darkness, +nothing is delineated; but incredible events follow +each other in quick succession, without any attempt +to realize them. Those, who complain of the minuteness +of Mrs. Radcliffe’s descriptions, should +read this work, where every thing passes with headlong +rapidity, and be convinced of their error. In +some few instances, perhaps, in “The Mysteries of +Udolpho,” the descriptions of external scenery may +occur too often; but her best style is essentially +pictorial; and a slow developement of events was, +therefore, necessary to her success.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The “<cite>Sicilian Romance</cite>” is a work of much more +“mark and likelihood;” and, very soon after its +first appearance, attracted a considerable share of +public attention. Here the softer blandishments +of our author’s style, which were scarcely perceptible +in her first production, were spread forth to +captivate the fancy. Transported to the “sweet +south,” her genius, which had shrunk in the bleak +atmosphere of Scotland, caught the luxurious spirit +of a happier clime. Never was a title more justly +applied than to this romance; it reminds the reader +of “Sicilian fruitfulness.” In tender and luxurious +description of natural scenery, it is surpassed by +none of Mrs. Radcliffe’s productions. The flight +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxiii'>cxxiii</span>of her heroine is like a strain of “lengthened +sweetness long drawn out;”—as one series of delicious +valleys opens on us after another; and the +purple light of love is shed over all. Still she had +not yet acquired a mastery over her own power +of presenting terrific incidents and scenes to the +eye of the mind, and awakening the throbs of suspense +by mysterious suggestions. The light seen +through the closed windows of the deserted rooms—the +confession of Vincent stopped by death—the +groans heard from beneath Ferdinand’s prison—and +the figure perceived stealing among the vaults, +are not introduced with sufficient earnestness, and +lose all claim to belief, by the utter incredibility +of the incidents, with which they are surrounded. +Escapes, recaptions, encounters with fathers and +banditti, surprising partings, and more surprising +meetings, follow each other as quickly as the +changes of a pantomime, and with almost as little +of intelligible connexion. One example may suffice.—Hippolitus +enters a ruin by moonlight, for +shelter; hears a voice as of a person in agony; sees, +through a shattered casement, a group of banditti +plundering a man, who turns out to be Ferdinand, +his intended brother-in-law; finds himself, he +knows not how, in a vault; hears a scream from +an inner apartment; bursts open the door and discovers +a lady fainting, whom he recognizes as his +mistress; overhears a quarrel and combat for the +lady between two of the banditti, which ends in +the death of one of them; fights with the survivor, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxiv'>cxxiv</span>and kills him; endeavours to escape with Julia; +finds his way into a “dark abyss,” which is no +other than the burial-place of the victims of the +banditti, marked with graves, and strewed with +unburied carcases; climbs to a grate, and witnesses +a combat between the robbers and officers of +justice; escapes with the lady through a secret +door into the forest, where they are pursued by +her father’s party; but, while he fights at the +mouth of a cavern, she loses her way in its recesses, +till they actually conduct her to the dungeon where +her mother, who had been considered dead for +fifteen years, is imprisoned;—and all this in a few +pages! There are, in this short story, incidents +enough for two such works as “The Mysteries of +Udolpho,” where, as in that great romance, they +should not only be told, but painted; and where +reality and grandeur should be given to their terrors.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In “<cite>The Romance of the Forest</cite>,” Mrs. Radcliffe, +who, since the dawn of her powers, had been +as one “moving about in worlds unrealized,” first +exhibited the faculty of controlling and fixing the +wild images which floated around her, and of +stamping on them the impress of consistency and +truth. This work is, as a whole, the most faultless +of all her productions; but it is of an inferior order +to “The Mysteries of Udolpho” and “The Italian;” +and can only be preferred by those, who think the +absence of error of more importance than original +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxv'>cxxv</span>excellence. There is a just proportion between +all its parts; its mysteries are adequately explained; +it excites and gratifies a very pleasant degree +of curiosity; but it does not seem to dilate the imagination, +nor does it curdle the blood. Its opening +after a sentence of marvellous common-place, +is striking; the midnight journey of La Motte and +his family they know not whither, and the introduction +of the heroine, under extraordinary circumstances, +to their care, rivet attention to all that +is to follow. The scenes in the forest where they +take up their abode are charming. This seems +the most delicious asylum for the persecuted outlaw; +its wood-walks and glades glisten before us +with the morning dew; and there is something in +the idea of finding a home in a deserted abbey, +which answers to some of the wildest dreams of +childhood, and innocently gratifies that partiality +for unlicensed pleasure, or repose, which is so natural +to the heart. The whole adventure of La +Motte and the Marquis is sufficiently probable and +interesting; and the influence, which it ultimately +enables the more resolute villain to exercise over the +weaker, is managed with peculiar skill, and turned +to great account in the progress of the story. +There is here scarcely any hint of the supernatural; +but the skeleton in the chest of the vaulted +chamber; the dagger, spotted with rust; the manuscript +of the prisoner, which Adeline reads by the +fitful light of her lamp, and which proves to be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxvi'>cxxvi</span>written by her own father, possess us with the apprehension +of some secret crime, which acquires +importance from its circumstances and its mystery. +There are some highly-finished scenes; as that +where Adeline, in her solitary chamber, dares not +raise her eyes to her glass, lest another face than +her own should meet them; her escape with a man +whom she supposes to be the servant she had +trusted, and who startles her with a strange voice; +the luxurious pavilion of the Marquis, to which +we are introduced after a frightful journey through +a storm; and, above all, the conversation, in which +the Marquis, after a series of dark solicitations, +understood by La Motte, as pointing to Adeline’s +dishonour, proposes her death. This last, as a piece +of dramatic effect, is perhaps equal to any passage +in the author’s works. The closing chapters of the +work are inferior in themselves to its commencement; +but they gratify by affording a worthy solution +of the intricacies of a plot, which has excited +so deep an interest in its progress.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“<cite>The Mysteries of Udolpho</cite>” is by far the most +popular of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works. To this preeminence +it is, we think, justly entitled; for, +although “<cite>The Italian</cite>” may display more purely +intellectual power, it is far less enchanting. Of all +the romances in the world, this is perhaps the most +romantic. Its outline is noble, it is filled with +majestic or beautiful imagery; and it is touched +throughout with a dreamy softness, which harmonizes +all its scenes, and renders its fascination +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxvii'>cxxvii</span>irresistible. It rises from the gentlest beauty by +just gradations to the terrific and the sublime. +Nothing can be fancied more soothing to the mind, +fevered with the bustle of the world, than the +picture of domestic repose, with which it opens. +We are dwellers in the home of the good St. Aubert, +who has retired to a beautiful spot, once the +favourite scene of his youthful excursions; and +sharers in its elegant and tranquil pleasures. +Next come the exquisite journey of the father +and daughter through the heart of the Pyrenees, +where we trace out every variety of mountain +grandeur; the richly coloured scene of vintage +gaiety among the woods of the chateau; +and the death of St. Aubert in the neighbourhood +of a place, which we understand to be connected +with his destiny, and where strains of unearthly +music are heard in sad accordance with +human sorrow. When Emily’s aunt, to whose +care she is consigned, marries the desperate Montoni, +we feel that the clouds are gathering round +her progress, and we shudder at the forebodings +of approaching peril. A little interval is given +among the luxuries of Venice, which are painted +with exquisite delicacy and lightness; and then +the work of terror begins. Nothing can be more +picturesque than the ascent of the Apennines; +mountain seems to rise above mountain in gloomy +stateliness before us, till we skirt the inmost valley, +far shut out from the world, and Montoni, breaking +a long silence, utters the charmed words, “There +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxviii'>cxxviii</span>is Udolpho!” The ideas of extent, of massiveness, +and austere grandeur, conveyed in the description +of the castle, have matchless force and distinctness, +and prepare the mind for the crimes and wonders, +of which it is the silent witness. Every thing +beneath “these dark battlements” is awful; the +slightest incidents wear a solemn hue, and “Fate +in sullen echoes” seems to “tell of some nameless +deed.” Not only the mysterious appearances and +sounds appal us, but the rushing wind, a rustling +curtain, the lonely watch-word on the terrace, have +power to startle, and keep curiosity awake. The +whole persecution and death of Madame Montoni +seem prodigious, as though they were something +out of nature; yet they derive all this importance +from the circumstances, with which they are invested; +for there is nothing extraordinary in the +fate of a despicable woman, worried into the grave +by her husband, because she will not give up her +settlement. The mysteries of Chateau le Blanc +are less majestic than those of Udolpho, but perhaps +they are even more touching; at least, the +visit of Emily to the chamber where the Marchioness +died, twenty years before, not without +suspicion of poison, and which had been shut up +ever since, is most affecting and fearful. The +faded magnificence of the vast apartment; the +black pall lying on the bed, as when it decked the +corpse; the robe and articles of dress remaining +as they had been carelessly scattered in the lifetime +of their owner; her veil, which hand had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxix'>cxxix</span>never approached since, now dropping into pieces; +her lute on the table, as it was touched on the +evening of her death; would be solemn and spectral, +even if the pall did not move and a face arise +from beneath it. This scene derives a tenderer +interest from the strange likeness, which Emily +seems to bear to the deceased lady, and which is +artfully heightened by the action of the old housekeeper +throwing the black veil over her, and by her +touching the long-neglected lute. Such are some +among the many striking features of this romance; +its defects are great and obvious. Its mysteries are +not only resolved into natural causes, but are explained +by circumstances provokingly trivial. What +reader would bear to be told that the black veil, +from which his imagination has scarcely been allowed +to turn for three volumes, conceals a waxen +image; that the wild music, which has chanced to +float on the air, in all the awful pauses of action, +proceeded from an insane nun, permitted to wander +about the woods; and that the words, which +startled Montoni and his friends, at their guilty +carousals, were uttered by a man wandering through +a secret passage almost without motive; unless the +power and sweetness of the spell remained after it +was thus rudely broken?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“<cite>The Italian</cite>” has more unity of plan than “The +Mysteries of Udolpho;” and its pictures are more +individual and distinct; but it has far less tenderness +and beauty. Its very introduction, unlike +the gentle opening of the former romance, impresses +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxx'>cxxx</span>the reader with awe. Its chief agent, +Schedoni, is most vividly painted; and yet the +author contrives to invest him with a mystery, +which leads us to believe, that even her image is +inadequate to the reality. Up to the period, at +which he unnaturally melts from demon to man, +he is the always chief figure when he is present; +and, where we do not see him, his spirit yet seems +to influence all around us. The great scenes of +this romance stand out in bold relief as in compartments; +of which the chief are the adventures +in the vaults of Pallozzi; the machinations of +Schedoni and the Marchioness, for the destruction +of the heroine; her confinement in the monastery +of San Stephano, and her escape with Vivaldi; her +terrible sojourn in Spalatro’s cottage on the seashore; +and the whole representation of the Inquisition, +which fills the mind when Schedoni’s supremacy +ceases. Of these, perhaps the very finest is the +scene in the church, where the Confessor makes +palpable to the Marchioness the secret wishes of +her heart for Ellena’s death: the situation is essentially +fearful; and all the circumstances are contrived +with admirable effect to heighten, vary and +prolong the feeling of curiosity and terror. The +dreary horrors of the fisherman’s cottage are admirably +painted; but the effort to produce a great +theatrical effect is very imperfectly concealed; and +we cannot help being somewhat dissatisfied with +the process of bringing a helpless orphan to such +a distance, merely that she may be murdered with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxxi'>cxxxi</span>eclat; with the equally unaccountable delay in +performing the deed; the strange relentings of +the ruffian; and the long preparation, which precedes +the attempt of Schedoni to strike the fatal +blow. There is great art in the scene, to which +all this is introductory; and the discovery of the +portrait is a most striking <i>coup de theatre</i>; but the +art is too palpable, and the contrast between the +assassin and the father too violent—at least, for a +second perusal. Not so, the graphic description +of the vast prisons of the Inquisition; they are dim, +prodigious, apparently eternal; and the style is +solemn and weighty as the subject. Mrs. Radcliffe +alone could have deepened the horror of this gloom +by whispers of things yet more terrible; and suggest +fears of the unseen, which should overcome the +present apprehensions of bodily torture.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of the tale and the poems now first presented to +the world, it would scarcely become us particularly +to speak. The verses, scattered through all the +romances, are so inartificially introduced, that they +have little chance of being estimated by an impatient +reader; but, when examined, they will be +found replete with felicitous expression and with +rich though indistinct imagery.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In her own peculiar style of composition, Mrs. +Radcliffe has never been approached. Her success +naturally drew forth a crowd of imitators, who produced +only cumbrous caricatures, in which the terrors +were without decorum, and the explanations absolutely +farcical. No successful writer has followed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_cxxxii'>cxxxii</span>her without calling to aid other means, which she +would not condescend to use. The Author of +“The Monk” mingled a sickly voluptuousness +with his terrors; and Maturin, full of “rich conceits,” +approached the borders of the forbidden in +speculation, and the paradoxical in morals. She +only, of all writers of romance, who have awed and +affected the public mind, by hints of things unseen, +has employed enchantments purely innocent; +has forborne to raise one questionable throb, or call +forth a momentary blush. This is the great test +not only of moral feeling, but of intellectual +power; and in this will be found her highest praise.</p> + +<hr class='c018'> + +<p class='c012'>The Editor of the present Publication, who is not +the Writer of the preceding Memoir, is aware, that it +would be unbecoming for him to say more of Works, +written by one so dear to him, than may be necessary +to give the Public an early assurance of their authenticity; +and that fact, he apprehends, will be sufficiently +proved by the distribution, which he has resolved +to make, of the whole purchase-money of the copy-right. +Every part of that produce will be paid, as it shall +accrue to him, to some public charitable institution in +England. The Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells, and +Sir Walter Stirling, Bart. in consideration of the +utility of this purpose, allow him the honour of saying, +that they will audit his account of that distribution.</p> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE;</div> + <div class='c002'>OR THE</div> + <div class='c002'>COURT OF HENRY THE THIRD</div> + <div class='c002'>KEEPING FESTIVAL IN ARDEN.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> + <h2 class='c005'>GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE.</h2> +</div> + +<h3 class='c019'>INTRODUCTION.</h3> + +<p class='c016'>“Well! now are we in Arden,” said +an English traveller to his companion, as +they passed between Coventry and Warwick, +over ground, which his dear Shakspeare +had made classic. As he uttered +this exclamation of Rosalind, he looked forward +with somewhat of the surprise and +curiosity, which she may be supposed to +have felt, and with an enthusiasm all his +own, on beholding the very scene, into +which the imagination of the poet had so +often transported him with a faint degree +<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>of its own rapture. He was not, it appears, +one of those critics, who think that the +Arden of Shakspeare, lay in France. But +he looked in vain for the thick and gloomy +woods, which, in a former age, were the +home of the doubtful fugitive, and so much +the terror of the traveller, that it had been +found necessary, on this very road, to clear +the ground, for a breadth of six acres on +each side, in order to protect the wayfaring +part of his Majesty’s liege subjects.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Now, albeit the landscape was still wild +and woody, he could not any where espy +a forest scene of dignity sufficient to call +up before his fancy the exiled duke and +his court, at their hunter-feast, beneath +the twilight of the boughs; nor a single +beech, under the grandeur of whose shade +the melancholy Jaques, might “lose and neglect +the creeping hours of time,” while he +sadly sympathized with the poor stag, that, +escaped from the pursuit of man, came to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>drop his tears into the running brook, and +to die in quiet. Not even a grove appeared, +through whose deep vista the traveller +might fancy that he caught, in the gayer +light, a glimpse of the wandering Rosalind +and her companions, the wearied princess +and the motley fool, or of the figure of +Orlando, leaning against an oak, and listening +to her song: he could not even catch +the last faint echo of that song, in a scene +so different from the one his fancy had represented +to him for the forest of Arden.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Alas!” said he, “that enchanting vision +is no more found, except in the very +heart of a populous city, and then neither +by the glimmering of the dawn, nor by the +glow of evening, but by the paltry light of +stage-lamps. Yet there, surrounded by a +noisy multitude, whose cat-calls often piped +instead of the black-bird, I have found +myself transported into the wildest region +of poetry and solitude; while here, on the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>very spot which Shakspeare drew, I am +suddenly let down from the full glow of +my holiday-feelings into the plain reality +of this work-a-day world.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Here ensued a conversation on illusions +of the imagination and on the various +powers of exciting them, shown by English +poets, especially by Shakspeare and Milton, +which it is unnecessary to repeat in +this place. Such was its length, that Mr. +Simpson’s part in it had gradually become +less and less active, while Willoughton’s +increased earnestness had rendered him less +and less sensible of the deficiency of replies. +At last, on his asking, rather peremptorily, +whether his friend did not recollect some +fine effects of the towers of Windsor Castle +upon the imagination, Mr. Simpson, fortunately +concealing how nearly he had approached +to a nap, answered, “No, no; I +do not recollect any thing of what you tell +me; but you were talking a little while +<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>ago of Hamlet and towers; now, if you +want towers that would do honour to +Hamlet, go to Warwick Castle, and if we +reach it, as we hope, this night, you can +walk from the inn while supper is preparing, +and you will find, on the terrace or +platform before the gates, towers frowning +and majestic enough. If the moon is +up, you will see them to perfection, and, as +you are so fond of ghosts, you can hardly +fail to make an assignation with one there.” +“I shall delight in the advantage,” replied +Willoughton, laughing: “Though I +am not so fond of ghosts in general, as you +seem to think. It is only for a few of particular +excellence, that I feel a friendship; +for them, indeed, I am willing to own even +an affection.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton, not receiving a rejoinder, +observed, that his friend had fallen again +into his nap; and he returned to the busy +thoughts, to which his first view of this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>land of Arden, the ground of Shakspeare, +had led. Sunk in reverie, he was no longer +in the living scene, but ranging over worlds +of his own, till a jolt of the carriage awoke +his companion; who, shaking his head, and +looking out of the window, with the sudden +alertness of one who thinks he has been +losing time, now supposed himself bound +to brush up his thoughts and to talk to his +friend.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton could well have spared the +interruption, till a remark, delivered with +an air of self-satisfaction, touched the string +that recalled him willingly to the present +scene.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There now is an oak,” said Simpson, +“that may have been of Elizabeth’s time, +by the hollowness of its vast trunk and the +state of its branches.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, long before her time,” said his +companion, “and perhaps Shakspeare’s eyes +have dwelt on it; perhaps he has rested +<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>under its shade:—O! we are coming now +to something like the Forest of Arden: see +how finely the woods rise in the distance, +and what a rich gleam the western sun +throws along the ground, beyond those +low-hung boughs on our left.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>As the travellers advanced upon Kenilworth-chace, +the country assumed a more +forest-like appearance, and a new train of +ideas engaged Willoughton, on approaching +the venerable ruins of the once magnificent +castle, at one period its prison, and at +another, the <i>plaisance</i> of royalty, where +Edward the II. groaned under the traiterous +power of Mortimer, and his abandoned +Queen; and where the crafty Leicester +entertained Elizabeth, with princely splendour. +The domain of this castle, with +its parks and chaces, included a circuit of +nearly twenty miles; and when a survey +of it was taken in the reign of James the +I., on its forfeiture by the voluntary exile +<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>and contempt of Sir Robert Dudley, the +son of Leicester and of his first wife, the +Lady Sheffield,—the woods alone were +valued at twenty thousand pounds, according +to Dugdale, who observes of the castle +and its territory, that “the like, both for +strength, state, and pleasure, was not within +the realm of England.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Recollections of the long and varied history +of this castle, crowded upon the mind +of Willoughton, and he looked out, with +impatience, for a glimpse of its stately +towers in the distance, and then of its +mouldering gateways, in the sun gleam, beneath +the woods that now rose round him +with majestic shade. Here, at least, was +a mass and pomp of foliage worthy of the +noble ruin he was approaching and of +the memory of Arden; and, when he first +caught a view of the grey walls and turrets +overtopping the woods, lighted up by the +evening sun, whose long beams, slanting +<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>now under the boughs, touched with a +golden flush the bending trunk of many +an old beech standing deep within the +shade, he uttered a note of admiration +and curiosity that discomposed Mr. Simpson, +who immediately directed the postilion +to make his way to the nearest gate.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Soon afterwards they found themselves +in a valley, whose woody slopes excluded +all distant prospect, and confined their +attention to the venerable relique, which +seemed to characterise, with its own quiet +gloom, the surrounding landscape. They +observed the several fine and detached +masses of the castle rising on a lone rock +in the centre of this secluded little valley; +and, as they drove towards the only entrance +of the area of these deserted courts, +near the square-turreted gateway, which +Leicester built for the grand approach +to the castle, the impatience of Willoughton +became tempered with a gentle and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>luxurious melancholy, and he forgot even +Shakspeare, while he was influenced by +somewhat of the poet’s feelings.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But a sense of real life broke in upon +him even in this scene of solemn grandeur, +and it required somewhat of the patience +of a philosopher to endure, in the full glow +of his present enthusiasm, the clamorous +impetuosity of idle children, who, on the +first sound of wheels, were seen running +to assail the strangers from every cottage +on the neighbouring banks. The visions +of quiet solitude and of venerable antiquity +were, in an instant, dispersed; the chaise +was surrounded, and the travellers, having +alighted, made their way with difficulty to +the little gate, that led through a garden +beside Leicester’s ruined tower into the +area that was once the lower court of the +castle, followed by a noisy troop, whom +neither money, nor command, could for +some time disperse.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>The tower—the gateway being now +closed up,—was no longer accessible to +curiosity, nor could gratify it by any traits +of the customs of former times. No warder’s +bench lurked within the gloom, nor +portcullis hung in the arch. The warden’s +chamber for those, who, by military +tenure, kept guard on certain nights of +the year, was transformed into a light parlour, +and the whole building changed into +a modern habitation. From the green and +broken square, anciently the lower court-yard, +the travellers looked up to the noble +mass of ruins that yet stand proudly +on their rocky knoll, and form three irregular +sides of what was once the inner +and grand court.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of the fourth side, which separated the +upper from the lower court, are now no +vestiges, save in the inequality of the +ground where their foundations stood, +and where the walls, fallen from above, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>may lie buried under the turf and briers, +that now cover the spot.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On the left, the shattered walls of that +lofty pile, built by Leicester and still called +by his name, advance proudly to the +edge of the eminence that overlooked the +lower court, hung with the richest drapery +of ivy; on the right, stands the strong +square tower, called Cæsar’s, which, though +the most ancient part of the castle, appears +fresher and less injured by time, than parts +that were raised some ages later. This +was the keep, or citadel, of the castle; and +the prodigious thickness of the walls appears +through the three arches in front, +proportioned and shaped like some which +may yet be seen in aqueducts near Rome; +the walls here show a depth of fifteen or +sixteen feet. The stone, of which this noble +tower is built, is of closer texture and +of a greyer hue, than that in any other +part of the building; and this hue harmonizes +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>beautifully with the ivy towers, +which overshadow its arches and doorcases, +and with the ashlings and elder +crowning its summit, which highly overtops +every relique of this once magnificent +abode of princes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It should seem,” said Willoughton, +“that no human force could lay low walls +of such strength as these; yet, as one side +of the tower is destroyed, while the other +three remain nearly entire, it must have +been assailed by some power more sudden +and partial than that of time.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir, yes,” said a man, who had +been standing by, observing the strangers +with attentive curiosity, “that part was +pulled down by Cromwell’s soldiers, and, +if they had had more time on their side, +they would have pulled it all down; as it +was, they did a mort of mischief.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton turned to look at his informer, +and saw a tall, thin man, who appeared +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>to be a villager, and who, without +waiting for encouragement, proceeded: “I +have heard say, they destroyed all that +stood between Cæsar’s and John O’Gaunts +tower there, at the end of the great hall, +and a deal on the other side of the court, +between the Whitehall and Lord Leicester’s +buildings.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are those walls before us the remains +of the great hall?” inquired Mr. Simpson, +pointing to a picturesque mass of ruins, +standing on the third side of the upper +court and seen in perspective between the +other two.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir,” said the man, “that there +was the great banqueting-hall where”—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Leicester entertained Queen Elizabeth,” +observed Willoughton. “How +beautifully the ivy falls over those light +Gothic window-mullions and that arched +door-way, so appropriately and elegantly +sculptured with vine-leaves! The sun +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>now slopes its rays through the arch, as if +purposely to show the beauty of its proportion +and the grace of the vine that +entwines it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay,” said Mr. Simpson, “many a pitcher +of wine and many a baron of beef +have been carried under that arch by the +king’s yeomen, when Henry the Third +kept his court here.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I doubt whether by yeomen,” replied +Willoughton, “for, though yeomen of the +household are mentioned, about this time, +yeomen of the guard, a part of whose +office it afterwards became to carry certain +dishes to the king’s table, do not occur +till the reign of Henry the Seventh. However, +it is probable, that, before the appointment +of the latter, yeomen of the +household might perform this business on +state occasions, and in that very hall may +have stood before the long tables, in double +row, with wine ewers in their hands.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>“Those were times worth living in,” +observed Mr. Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, those were jolly times! Sir,” said +the stranger man; “it’s lonely and sad +enough in that old hall now; nothing but +briers and ivy. Why, there is an ivy tree +now against that old wall there, partly as +old as the wall itself. Look, Sir, it is as +grey, and almost as sapless as the stone it +crawls upon, though the trunk is such a +size, and hardly shows a green leaf, spring +or summer.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The travellers made their way among +the briers to take a nearer view of it; +and, if verdant festoons of younger plants +had charmed them, Willoughton, at least, +was no less affected by the withered sinews +and grey locks of this most forlorn +and aged tree, which had itself become a +ruin, while adorning another. He climbed +over hillocks of briers and weeds, which +now covered the ruins of walls, fallen into +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>this court-yard, and he looked down into +the area of the great hall, through a door-way +which had once led from it by a +vestibule towards the white hall, of which +latter hardly a vestige remains, and to +King Henry’s lodgings. Here he distinguished +the upper end of that magnificent +banqueting-room, the very spot where the +<i>deis</i>, or high table, had stood, which had +feasted kings and princes, its lords, or visitors; +where Henry the Third had sitten, +where John O’Gaunt had caroused, +and where Elizabeth had received the +homage of Leicester.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At one end of this platform were still +the remains of the large bay-window, opening +upon the grand court, where the cup-board +had stood, and the golden plate +was piled; at the other end, a windowed +recess bowed out towards the spot, where +there had been a lake, and to woods, that +still flourished. This also, on state occasions, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>had probably held a plate-board, or +cup-board, and, on others, had been occupied +as a pleasant seat, commanding the +finest views of the park.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The four walls only of this noble hall +marked its former grandeur, not a fragment +of either roof, or floor, remaining; +the ground, upon which Willoughton immediately +looked, having been the foundation +of a chamber, or hall, for domestic +and inferior guests, under the great one, +which was eighty-six feet in length, and +forty-five in width.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Those walls, where gorgeous tapestry +had hung, showed only the remains of +doorways and of beautiful gothic windows, +that had admitted the light of the +same sun, which at this moment sent the +last gleam of another day upon Willoughton, +and warned him, that another portion +of his life too was departing.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>The melancholy scene around him spoke, +with the simplicity of truth, the brevity +and nothingness of this life. Those walls +seemed to say—“Generations have beheld +us and passed away, as you now behold us, +and shall pass away. They have thought +of the generations before their time, as +you now think of <i>them</i>, and as future ones +shall think of you. The voices, that revelled +beneath us, the pomp of power, the +magnificence of wealth, the grace of beauty, +the joy of hope, the interests of high passion +and of low pursuits have passed from +this scene for ever; yet we remain, the +spectres of departed years and shall remain, +feeble as we are, when you, who now +gaze upon us, shall have ceased to be in +this world!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, here is a stone bench yet in this +old window,” said Mr. Simpson; “and a +pleasant window it is still. This homely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>bench has outlived all the trappings of the +castle, though, I dare say, it was little valued +in their time!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You see, Sir,” said the old man, “it +belongs to the wall itself; else it would +have been carried off long ago.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton turned at the now repeated +voice of this stranger, whose intrusion he +did not entirely like, though his knowledge +of the castle might be useful, and his +conduct did not appear to be ill-meant. To +an inquiry, whether he lived in the neighbourhood, +he answered, “Hard by, Sir, in +Kenilworth. I saw you was a stranger, +Sir, and thought you might like to know a +little about the castle here; and, unless +you hap to light on such a one as me, you +may go away as wise as you came—for, +you will know nothing. No offence, I +hope, Sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, no; no offence at all;” replied +Willoughton; “and since you are so well +<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>acquainted with this spot, let me hear a +little of what you know of it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, let us hear what you have to +say,” said Mr. Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton, turning as he heard this, +perceived his friend seated in the recess +he had before noticed. Much remained +of the beautiful stone-work of this bay-window, +and it now showed itself upon +the glowing west, where the sun had just +descended, behind the dark woods of the +valley. He advanced into it, and looking +out upon the scenery, was interested by +the stillness and solemnity that began to +prevail over it. At some distance down +the steep bank on which the castle stands, +he could distinguish fragments of the +walls that once surrounded it, with here +and there some remains of a tower, or a +banqueting-house. The ground below +seemed marshy, but pasture of a better +green stretched up the opposite slopes, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>and mingled with the woods, that, on +every side, shut out the world! This +valley seemed the home of a composed +melancholy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But where,” said Willoughton, “is +the noble lake that, in Leicester’s time, +surrounded this castle, on which, as you +may have heard, Queen Elizabeth was +welcomed with pageants and so much +flattery?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, where is it?” echoed Mr. Simpson, +looking at the old man with an air that +seemed to say, “Now we have some use +for you, and will put you to the test.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Willoughton, without giving him +time to reply, proceeded:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am doomed to disappointment in +Arden. For many miles, I could not discover +any thing like a forest-shade, that +might have sheltered a banished court, or +favourite; and here not a wave of the +lake, that delighted a festive one, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>which might have supplied me with a +floating island, moving to the sound of +invisible music, or to the shells of surrounding +tritons and sea-nymphs. Nay, +I cannot even catch a gleam of the torches, +which, on such an occasion, might +have thrown their light on the woods and +towers of the castle, and have quivered +on the waters over which they passed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, sir,” said the old man, “it would +be a hard matter to find any thing of all +that now. Cromwell’s people would have +knocked all that o’ the head, when they +drained off the water, if such things had +been there then.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Cromwell’s people again! However it +is as well to remember them. What had +the venerable scenes of Kenilworth to do +with politics, or freedom? But thus it is; if +even the leaders in political agitations have +a better taste themselves than to destroy, +for the mere sake of destruction, they let +<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>the envy and malice of their followers +rage away against whatsoever is beautiful, +or grand.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>So said Willoughton to his friend, who +smiled, as he perceived that the indignant +admirer of antiquity had allowed +himself to speak of a military operation, +as though it had been a popular commotion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Where went the line of the lake, my +man of Kenilworth?” asked Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, it flowed round two sides +of the castle, as I have heard say; it went +from the tilt-yard, all along the valley +here, for half a mile, and spread out at the +foot of these banks,—as wide as to the +woods yonder, on the hill side.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What a noble sheet of water,” exclaimed +Willoughton, “with lawns and +woods sloping to its margin and reflected +on its surface!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir, all that on the opposite side +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>was a deer-park then, as I’ve heard from +the account of some book, except that +low ground further on, and that was pasture +for cattle.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“For cattle!” exclaimed Mr. Simpson,—“how +they would poach such ground as +that!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But what a beautiful picture they +helped to make from the castle windows +here,” said Willoughton; “when, on a summer’s +noon, they lay under those shades, or +stood in the cool waters of the lake.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay,” said Mr. Simpson, “to such as +did not value the land.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was just opposite the Pleasant, yonder,” +said the aged historian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The <i>Pleasant</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir; if you look this way, I will +tell you where it stood:—it was a banqueting-house +on the lake.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“O! the <i>Plaisance</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It stood on the walls there, down in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>the valley, to the right of John O’Gaunt’s +tower here, and not far from the Swan +Tower; but it is so dusk now you can +hardly see where I mean.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton inquired where the Swan +Tower stood.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Further off, a good way, Sir; but +there is nothing of it to be seen now. It +stood at the corner of the garden-wall, +just where the lake came up; but there is +nothing to be seen of that garden either +now, Sir, though we know the place where +it was. Queen Elizabeth used to take +great delight in the banqueting-house, as +I’ve heard.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was pleasantly seated;” observed +Willoughton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir; but there was rare feasting +and music too, I reckon. She used to be +fond of sitting in this very window, too!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How do you know all this, my friend?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, the place is called Queen +Elizabeth’s turret, to this day, because she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>took such a fancy to it; and it was pleasant +enough to be sure, for it overlooked +the widest part of the lake;—this bench had +velvet trappings enough then, I warrant.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have no pleasure in remembering +Elizabeth;” said Willoughton, as he turned +to look for his friend.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No!—not in remembering the wisest +princess that ever reigned?” said Mr. +Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No: her wisdom partook too much of +craft, and her policy of treachery; and her +cruelty to poor Mary is a bloody hand +in her escutcheon, that will for ever haunt +the memory of her.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are too ardent,” observed Mr. +Simpson; “much may be said on her conduct +on that head.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She inspires me only with aversion and +horror,” replied Willoughton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She gives other people the horrors, +too,” said the villager.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How do you mean, friend?”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>“There are strange stories told, Sir, if +one could but believe them;—there are +old men now in the parish, who say they +have seen her about the castle here, dressed +in a great ruff about her neck, just as she +is in her picture; they knew her by that.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Here Mr. Simpson, giving Willoughton +a look of sly congratulation, on his having +met with a person of taste seemingly so +congenial with his own, burst forth into a +laugh, or rather a shout, that made every +echo of the ruin vocal, his friend smile, +and the old man stare; who, somewhat +gravely, proceeded——</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They say, too, she has been seen sitting +there, in that very window, when there +was but just light enough to see her by.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A ghost in a ruff and farthingale!” +exclaimed Mr. Simpson, in exultation;—“that +is, surely, the very perfection of propriety +in the ghost-costume;” and again +the roar of laughter rolled round every +turret of the castle.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>“Why does that strike you as so absurd?” +asked Willoughton; “this is only +a ghost representing the familiar image of +the person when alive. Can it be more +ridiculous than the Scotch plaid for the +supernatural being, whom we call a witch? +And yet, when you and I used to discuss +the taste of ghost-dresses, you did not object +to that appearance; but justified it, as +one with which popular superstition was +familiar.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes,” replied Simpson; “but though the +ruff and farthingale accompany our idea of +Queen Elizabeth, it is of her, as a living +character, not in that of her apparition.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And yet,” rejoined Willoughton; “if +you remain in this ruin, half an hour +longer, till you can scarcely distinguish +the walls, you will feel less inclined to +laugh at Queen Elizabeth’s ghost in a ruff +and farthingale.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Perhaps I might,” said Mr. Simpson, +“if you had not let me so much into the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>secret of effect in these cases. Yet I question +whether it would have been possible +for Elizabeth’s picture, arrayed in that ridiculous +court-dress, supposing it actually +to appear, to extort from me any thing +but laughter.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They say, Sir,” said the aged man, +“that she looked solemn and stern enough +as she sat in that window, just where you +do now, leaning her head upon her hand, +or something that looked like one. She +sat quite still, for some time, and old +Taylor sat quite still looking at her, for +he could not move;—but when she rose +up and turned round, and made a motion +with her hand—thus—as much as to +say, ‘Go about your business!’ he thought +he should have dropped, and would have +gone fast enough if he could.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay,” said Mr. Simpson; “there was +the characteristical in manner, as well as +in dress. This must be a true history!”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>“Well, friend,” said Willoughton, “and +what followed?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, then she went down this +steep place you now stand upon, into the +hall there, where <i>he</i> could not have gone, +in broad day-light, without risk of his +neck; she sank down, as it were, and he +lost her awhile, it was so dark; but presently +he saw her, all on a sudden, standing +in that door-way there,—and I can +almost guess I see her there now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are a silly old man,” said Mr. +Simpson; and he looked immediately to +the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You would not like,” said Willoughton, +smiling, “to inquire minutely into the +difference between purposely avoiding to +look, and purposely looking in the midst +of this story;” but—turning to the old +man—“what next?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, she stood in the arch +some time with a very stern look; but I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>never rightly understood what became of +her. Old Taylor said she passed away +like a cloud; but then afterwards he was +not sure but he saw her again, in a minute +or two, in this very window.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And have you never been fortunate +enough,” said Mr. Simpson, “to see any +of those sights?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, Sir, no; I hope I have no need +of them; though, if I was that way +given, I might have thought <i>I</i> saw things +too sometimes. Once by Mortimer’s tower, +down in the tilt-yard, I as good as thought +I saw a man standing with a mask on his +face, in a moonlight night, with a drawn +sword in his hand.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That tower,” remarked Willoughton, +“was doubtless named after Mortimer, the +paramour of the infamous Isabel?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They say, Sir, some king was once +shut up there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“Ay, Edward the Second, for a short +time.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And they will tell you a power of +stories of what was to be seen about that +tower, before it was pulled down, and +after too; but I don’t believe a word of +them. People are always conjuring up +strange tales when they have nothing +better to do. I have got an old book at +home full of them, enough to make one’s +hair stand on end, if one could but make +it all thoroughly out. I showed it to Mr. +Timothy, the school-master, and he could +hardly make it out neither; but he said +it was no matter, for it was full of nothing +but nonsense. He read me some +of it, and I could not get it out of my +head again for a week.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, it met with a thriving soil,” +said Mr. Simpson, “it’s well you got the +nonsense out of your head at all. But +<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>how happened you to buy a book in a +language you could not read?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did not buy it, Sir; and, as to the +language, I could understand that well +enough, but I could not read the letters; +and Timothy himself bungled at the spelling.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton inquired where this book +was met with; and whether he could +have a sight of it?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, it was dug out of the +ground, where an old chapel once stood, +belonging to the Priory hard by.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“O! I remember,” said Willoughton; +“there was formerly a monastery of Black +Canons at Kenilworth, founded by Geoffry +de Clinton, lord chamberlain to the first +King Henry, and the founder of this same +castle too: but go on.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The place is used for a burial-ground +still,” resumed the old villager; “and it +happened, that as Guy, our sexton, was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>one day going to dig a grave there, he +lighted upon a coffin, or the chest, or +whatever it was, that held a many things +besides this strange book.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Indeed!” said Willoughton, eagerly; +“let us hear a little about this.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We shall not get to Warwick to-night,” +said Mr. Simpson, gravely.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, it was one day last autumn,—no, +I believe it was as late as November; +I remember it had rained hard all morning; +but whether it was October or November, +I cannot be sure.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That, I should suppose, does not much +signify,” said Mr. Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come, now,” said Willoughton, “do let +him be as circumstantial as he pleases.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Willingly, willingly, only remember, +we are not to sleep at Kenilworth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, Sir, I cannot be sure exactly of +the time, only it had been a dismal day; +but the rain was over, when old Guy came +<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>running to me in as great a fright as ever +I saw a man, and said he had found something +in the ground, he could not tell what, +but he never felt any thing so heavy in his +life; he could not move it, and desired I +would go and help him to raise it; and he +stared, as if he was out of his wits. When +I heard it was so heavy, I thought we +might as well have my son to help us, for +he was a stout lad. Guy did not much +like this, I saw, for he was thinking he +should find a treasure, and Guy was always +a close one, and for getting as much as he +could; it was only two years before he +got his money raised for tolling; and there +is not one in the parish has liked him +since. However, I got my son to go with +me, and we set to work, without saying a +word to any one; and it was so near dark +that nobody was likely to see us in that +lonely place.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well! but if it had been treasure, it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>would have belonged to the Lord of the +Manor,” said Mr. Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir, I know that well enough; +but you shall hear. We raised it out of +the ground at last, and what should it be +but an old oak chest. It was so large, a +man might have lain down in it at full +length; but what helped to make it so +heavy was the iron bands that held it together, +and three great iron locks, that +fastened it. Now, as the place where it +was dug up was the east end of the church, +Guy took it into his head it contained +church plate, that had been put there, in +troublesome times, by the monks of the +priory. If you had but seen him! he +thought his fortune was made; he threw +away his spade, and cut a caper as high as +a wall. I thought myself there must be +something worth looking at o’the inside, +but by this time it was so dark we could +hardly see what we were about; so I sent +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>my son home for the lantern, and then +we tried with old Guy’s crow to get the +lid open. We got it off at last; and what +do you think, Sir, we found? Why, nothing +but old parchments; some with seals +dangling to them, and some old books, +dropping to pieces with the worms, though +the leaves were thick enough, too: at the +bottom of the chest was a great heap of +dust.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Did you find nothing else?” asked Mr. +Simpson, fixing his eyes on him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, Sir, nothing else,” said the old +man, with a little hesitation; “nothing +else, except an old staff, with a large head; +and there was a little silver on that and +on a book I have at home.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Simpson inquired what had made +the chest so weighty.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, it was made of solid oak, +six inches thick, I warrant, and had a +great deal of iron about it. I took a fancy +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>to that book, though I could not read it, +for I could not make out the letters; but +there is some pretty pictures on the leaves, +and the colours are as fresh as if they were +just painted; and some of the great letters +are done all over with gold as bright as +the sun.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A manuscript, illuminated probably +by some monk of the priory,” said Willoughton; +“can I see it?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir,” replied the old man, “I +have it at home; but what made me +wonder most was to see it look so fresh, +after it had lain all that time in the +ground; to be sure it was well wrapped +up in parchment, and the trunk was +thick enough, for that matter; but some +of the other books dropped to pieces as +soon as the air came to them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton asked what had been done +with the parchments; adding, to his companion, +that they were probably the leigerbook +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>and some other muniments of the +Priory, hidden when the terrors of Henry +the Eighth first prevailed in the monasteries, +and afterwards pretended to be +lost, first from some hope of their future +utility, and then from a fear of avowing +their concealment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When Guy,” resumed the old man, +“found what sort of treasure he had gotten, +he was ready to throw himself into +the old chest, to be put under ground with +it again; but I said there was no need of +that; so we took out some of the best of +the books, but none of the others had pictures; +and Guy took the old staff, and then +we did lay the trunk in the earth again.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton made many inquiries concerning +the parchments with the seals, and +the seals themselves, and whether his informant +could find again the spot where +they were deposited.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>“Come, come,” said Mr. Simpson; “let +us leave this place; it is almost dark.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The old man said he thought he could +find the spot; but that would be of no +use; for it had lain so deep in the ground, +that there had been depth over it for +graves, and it was now beneath them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton, shocked at this circumstance, +said no more on the subject; but +the old man proceeded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Among other things in the book, Sir, +is a view of this old hall. I should never +have found it out myself; for it was no +more like what it is now than nothing: +but Timothy Crabb, our school-master, +knew it at once by this very window—and +he read something about this window, too,—and +by a door-way in the wall, yonder.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How does it appear in the drawing?” +asked Willoughton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir,—but you shall see the book, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>if you like. The hall had a high roof, +like a church there, and a gallery ran +all along the bottom of it, and such a +chimney!”—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay! like the remains of what we see +here now, I suppose,” said Mr. Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, Sir, as different as can be.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“O! perhaps,” turning to Willoughton, +“it was such an one as we saw at +Penshurst; a raised hearth, with irons to +hold wood, in the middle of the hall.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No; that style,” observed Willoughton, +“was of later date than chimneys +in English halls. It came in, I apprehend, +with the castellated mansion, of which +style is Penshurst, the more ancient part +of the building at least. In the hall of the +older castle, a chimney sloped back from +the line of the wall into the thickness of +it, and let out the smoke through a loop +above. Thus, the raised hearth, on which +the wood fire blazed, projected into the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>chamber, and was sometimes overhung +by a canopy of stone-work supported by +pillars, that gave it a resemblance to a +gothic porch, such as adorn some of our +finest cathedrals.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir, this in the book looks like +something like a church porch without +the sides, the top comes so far over the +hearth. Then all down the hall are rows +of tables, with gentle-folk and ladies sitting +at them, and—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must see this manuscript,” interrupted +Willoughton; “it appears to be +a curious one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come,” said Mr. Simpson, “it is already +so dark, we can hardly see our way +hence. There is scarce a gleam of light +left on the horizon.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, Sir, but the moon is rising yonder, +and some gentry have a fancy to see +this place by moonlight.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“O! we have seen enough of it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>“I recommend you,” said Willoughton, +“to avoid looking, just at this moment, +towards the door at the bottom of the +hall, lest you should see the stately form +of Elizabeth in the archway; I had +a glimpse of something like her just +now; nay, I am not quite sure that I +did not see the grave physiognomy of +Leicester, under his small black velvet cap +and feather.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We shall not get to Warwick to-night,” +said Mr. Simpson, fretfully. “They +talk of the patience of a painful antiquary; +think what the patience of his +friend must be.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have not the honour to deserve the +former title,” said Willoughton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Between us, we approach to it; the +painful part of it, you will allow, belongs +to me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In the old sense of the word,” said +Willoughton, “you do not claim it; and, +as to the new one, your jests recompense +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>you for your pain: I have all possible inclination +to deserve the title, in its best +sense; at least by cherishing those inquiries, +which make us intimate with the +characters and habits of our fellow creatures +in past ages, which show them to +us in their halls, their ceremonies, their +tournaments, their banquets, their domestic +usages and even in their monastic +retirement. These picturesque visions, in +which the imagination so much delights, +and every discovery, however remote, +awaken a peculiar kind of interest and of +sentiment no less delightful, which render +antiquity, of all studies, the least liable +to the epithet of dry, though dull +and dry people so liberally bestow it. +Antiquity is one of the favourite regions +of poetry.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nay,” said Mr. Simpson, “your woods +and your meadows are the region for that. +Who ever thought of looking for a muse +in an old castle? But come, let us remember, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>that we are on the road for +Warwick.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Before we go, my friend here must +show me his old manuscript; and I must +see this fine ruin by moonlight.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“By moonlight!” exclaimed Simpson; +“would you really stay for so romantic a +purpose? We have seen it already by +sun-light, and almost by no light at all?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The moon is rising, now, Sir,” said +the old man, “and by the time the gentleman +has seen the book it will be risen +high enough to give you light on your +journey.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Meanwhile, the horses will have no +objection to a little corn,” remarked Willoughton; +“nor the postilion to a little +ale, if this good man will direct him +where to get it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Simpson having added, that he too +should like a little Warwickshire ale, the +old man replied, “The ale they sell is not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>much to brag on; but, if you please, gentlemen, +I will direct the lad where he and +the horses may rest themselves, and, if +you will step with me, you can taste some +of my home-brewed, and see the book at +the same time.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The travellers assented, and their conductor, +after having directed the postilion +to a house, accompanied them to his +cottage, where he produced the desired +manuscript. It was written on vellum, and +richly illuminated, and purported to be an +account of what passed at Kenilworth, +when Henry the Third there kept the feast +of Saint Michael, and of some wonderful +accident that there befel.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is a title-page written almost +in the form of a triangle,” said Willoughton, +“and that about as closely as if it +were printed. The date, which forms the +apex of the reversed triangle, I cannot +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>wholly make out, but it is twelve hundred +and something.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the heads of chapters and sometimes +on the broad margins, there were made +drawings of parts of Kenilworth Castle, as +it had appeared in the time of Henry probably, +with some of the scenes which had +there passed, and sometimes with single +portraits of the chief persons engaged in +them. These gave vivid ideas of the customs +and manners of that period, and were +traced, with more knowledge of perspective +and more attention to proportion, than +Willoughton expected. Among them was +a procession of knights and ladies, led by +numerous harpers, returning from the +tilt-yard to the great hall, which showed a +high sloping roof, while the windows below, +at a considerable elevation from the +ground, had round-headed arches, instead +of pointed ones. The door-way, leading +into it, accorded with the place where one +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>still appears; but the arch was differently +constructed, and the receding mouldings +seemed to have been ornamented with +chevron work, or zigzag, instead of the +elegant vine now sculptured there, which +latter he had no hesitation in assigning to +the time of Leicester.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Another drawing gave an inside view of +the hall, as mentioned by the old man. The +roof was of great height, open to the rafters, +and with pendent beams below, formed +into arches, ornamented with inverted +pinnacles, nicely carved. Another drawing +gave the inside of a chapel, of which there +are no longer any remains at Kenilworth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The original style of the building appeared +very ancient, but this was mixed +with one more light and elegant, like that +of the pointed arches of the windows; and +Willoughton conjectured this improvement +to have been made by Henry the Third, +who is known to have repaired the chapel +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>of the castle for his own use, during his +occasional residence there.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a representation of a marriage +ceremony in celebration at the altar, +where a numerous assemblage of dignified +persons were arranged in state. A king +was giving the hand of the bride to a +young man, who was decorated with many +military insignia, but who was so far from +receiving the gift with joy, that he appeared +to be struck with consternation, while +the lady, by her attitude, seemed to be +fainting.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the margin was a portrait of a king +robed and wearing a crown of gold, which +seemed intended for Henry the Third, to +whose statue in brass, in his monument in +Westminster Abbey, it bore a considerable +resemblance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the head of another chapter was an +inside view of a tower, where a man was +sitting alone near a lamp. In the background +<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>a face appeared at the grate. The +same chamber was represented afterwards, +with a man stretched upon a low pallet, but +whether asleep, or dead, was not expressed +by the drawing. The lamp had gone out, +and, instead of a face at the grate, the +moon appeared through a window beyond, +and threw a pale light on the couch.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Another drawing gave a view of a chapel, +or hall; Willoughton was not certain +which: there was, however, something like +an altar at the farthest end, near which +stood a figure alone, the face concealed in +a vizor, the left arm, uplifted, held a shield, +the right a lance, but the feet were in a +position of rest, though another figure near +a door was departing, as if with the fear +of being pursued, his hands outstretched, +and his face turned back over his shoulder. +There, too, the moon appeared through a +window, and the light fell upon the lifted +shield.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>While Willoughton was musing what +this could mean, the old man, looking +upon the leaf, said, “Timothy Crabb, Sir, +maintains this is a picture of the Priory-Chapel, +he is sure, as it stood formerly. I +should never have found it out myself, +there is so little left of the chapel; but +Tim makes it all out fine enough.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Does he tell you what that figure +means?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not as I remember, Sir; but the book +tells that, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton turned over the leaves near +the drawing; the language, the orthography +and the characters were all so ancient, +that he hesitated much. What he did +make out, however, fixed his attention so +deeply, that his friend lost the small remains +of his patience, and declared he +would set off without him. Willoughton +then told his humble host, that, if he was +willing to part with the manuscript, he was +disposed to give him his own price for it.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>“Why, Sir, I like to look at the pictures +sometimes, and the gold is so bright it is a +pleasure to see it; but the book for other +matters is not of much value to me, +though it may be to other people, seeing +as I can’t make it out; and, for that matter, +if I could, I do not know any good it +would do; for, what Tim did read made +me as foolish almost as old John, and afraid +to go near the castle, for some time, after +dark, though I was always counted a little +more sensible than some. But I see no +good in such things, not I.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are a sensible fellow,” said Mr. +Simpson, “and I wish my friend here +had a little less curiosity, and a little more +such wit as yours. And now, Harry, do +leave the book and come away.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, I shall first console myself for the +mortification of your compliments. What +shall I give you for the book, my friend?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, Sir, I don’t know, I am sure; +I don’t know the value of such things. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>Tim Crabb said it might be worth its +weight in gold for aught he knew; but I +leave it, Sir, to your generosity.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is well you do not leave it to +mine,” said Mr. Simpson, “for I should +make a low reckoning of it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The sum Willoughton offered accorded +with his own estimation of so curious a +relick, rather than with the expectation of +his host, who heard it with exclamations of +thankfulness; while Mr. Simpson expressed +not merely surprise but reprehension, +and the vulgar proverb of “Fools and their +money—” was nearly audible on his lips.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What other books did you find in +the same place?” asked Willoughton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ah! bless you, Sir,” replied the ancient +villager, “I wish I had a score of +them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well you may, my friend, if they +would fetch you such a price as this!” was +the ready remark of Mr. Simpson.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>“It is his honour’s own generosity, Sir, +and I suppose he thinks the book worth +the money, or he would not give it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come, Harry,” continued Simpson, +“here has been folly enough for once; let +us be gone.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are sure you have no other book +like this?” inquired Willoughton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is another or two, that do still +hold together, I think,” said the old man; +“They have got no pictures; but then they +have the same kind of letters, that cannot +be understood.”—He went for them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You will tempt the man to steal the +parish-register, and offer it to you as a +curious relick,” said Mr. Simpson; “and +indeed it will deserve your money better +than this.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The old man returned with a small +quarto, printed in black letter and bound +in real boards, which had been guarded +at the corners with brass; the marks of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>clasps remained on it and those of a +lozenge in the centre of each board.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Though this is of later date, much +later date, than the manuscript,” said +Willoughton, “I see it is one of the earliest +books that came from the press in +England. It appears also by its contents, +to have been intended to assist the purposes +of the monks of that dark age.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A Boke of Sprites!” exclaimed Simpson, +with a shout of exultation: “a boke +of sprites, with the signs they may be +known by, and divers rules to keep you +from harm: the like was never known +before!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Excellent! excellent!” said Willoughton; +“and here is another black-letter +volume. Well, friend, without looking +further, what shall I give you for +them?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“This is past endurance!” said Mr. +Simpson; “my patience is out!”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>“O Sir! I will give you these into the +bargain,” said the old man, smiling; an +offer which Willoughton would not accept, +who paid the old man what he thought +they were worth. Mr. Simpson, then taking +his friend by the arm, desired his host +to direct them to the chaise.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must see the ruin by moonlight,” +said Willoughton; “but I will not detain +you many minutes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, no; you will see the towers of +Warwick by moonlight; which will be +much finer.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My good friend here,” said Willoughton, +“will order the chaise round to the +gate where it set us down; and, by the +time it arrives, I shall have seen what I +wish to see.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Be it so,” said Mr. Simpson, with an +air of resignation; “one is sure of you +when a journey is to be begun; but never +when one would end, or hasten it. I have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>not forgotten our midnight rambles about +Stonehenge! Doubtless we were the first +human beings, who had appeared there, +at such an hour, for many centuries; and +what astonished me afterwards, more than +any thing I saw, was, that I myself should +have been conjured there at such an unseasonable +hour; I, whose brain never hatched +any of those ‘high and unimaginable fantasies,’ +as your poet Gray calls them, ‘which +distract the heads of some of his readers.’”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay! those shadows of the moon at +full,” said Willoughton laughing, as they +walked towards the ruin, his friend remonstrating +with him on the imprudence +of this passion for antiquities and on his +credulity. “And can you really hold,” +said he, “that these books were found in +the manner related; and that any of +them, especially the ‘Boke of Sprites,’ ever +belonged to the library of the priory?”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>“It does not seem probable,” replied +Willoughton, “that the old man should +have invented the story he has related of +the discovery of them; but, be that as it +may, the books themselves announce their +own genuine antiquity. The manuscript +is laboriously illuminated, and it is well +known, that such works were chiefly +performed by the inhabitants of monasteries. +The Boke of Sprites even was +likely to have served the purposes of +the monks. We know that the libraries +of monasteries contained a most heterogeneous +assemblage: Ovid, the Romance +of Charlemagne, Guy of Warwick, and +the Rimes of Robin Hood, have been +found on the shelf with Homilies, and +other books; which, although they might +be tinged with the corruptions of the Papal +school, ought not to have had such +companions. You may recollect, that Warton, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>in the interesting sketches of ancient +manners which he gives in his History of +English Poetry, mentions this very fully; +and that, among others, the library of +Peterborough contained ‘Amys and Amdion,’ +‘Sir Tristram Merlin’s Prophecies,’ +and the ‘Destruction of Troy:’ and books +of this sort were not only copied, but often +invented by the monks, sometimes for their +amusement, sometimes for worse purposes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“One of the old books you have relates +to their castle, I think,” said Mr. Simpson, +looking up at the shadowy masses; which, +shown thus faintly by the rising moon, +seemed more majestic than before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, and I perceive,” continued Willoughton, +“that even you feel a curiosity +to know what may have passed so many +ages back, on the spot we now stand upon.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why,” acknowledged Simpson, “when +one looks up at the very walls now crumbling +into ruin, that were once so magnificent, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>and that inclosed beings with passions +as warm as our own—beings, who have so +long since vanished from the earth, one cannot +help wishing to know a little of their +history and of the scenes they witnessed; +but, for your legend, I fear to trust it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It speaks of the times of Henry the +Third,” said Willoughton, “those were +lawless enough to permit many adventures; +and, if the citizens of London were +then robbed in the streets even at noon-day, +what could travellers in the forest +of Arden expect? But this Manuscript +seems to tell of princely feasts given in +the castle, and of adventures passing in +the presence of the Court.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, if one could but believe them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A great part of the castle,” pursued +Willoughton, “which then existed, is now +gone; and much that we look at, stands +in its place; but that noble hall, and +Cæsar’s tower and several other towers, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>such as those where the moonlight falls, +beheld the very court of Henry the Third, +ay, and Montfort, on whom he had bestowed +Kenilworth, and who added ingratitude +to treason, by holding the fortress +against his benefactor and liege lord.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>They stood for some minutes in silence, +looking up at the ruin and listening, as the +breeze rushed by, to the shivering of the +ivy, that overhung it,—all the shining leaves +trembling in the moonlight. The pauses +of solemn stillness, that followed these +sighings of the air among the old branches, +were very solemn, and the sound itself—so +still, uncertain, and sudden, Willoughton +could have fancied to have been the warning +murmurs of one, who, in his mortal +state, had lived within these walls, and now +haunted the scene where it had once revelled, +or, perhaps, suffered. It seemed like +a voice imperfectly uttering forth some dark +prophecy, and telling of the illusion of life +<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>and the certainty of death. To Willoughton’s +recollection this spectacle of the remains +of ages past, now glimmering under +the soft shadows of moonlight, brought +those touching lines of Beattie—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,</div> + <div class='line in4'>And woo the weary to profound repose,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Can passion’s wildest uproar lull to rest,</div> + <div class='line in4'>And whisper comfort to the man of woes.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton stood so wrapt, that he +heard not his friend’s inquiry, whether he +meant to pass a night at Kenilworth, as +a sequel to a former one at Stonehenge; +nor was he immediately aware of the +nearer approach of his aged conductor, +who said, in a tone somewhat tremulous, +“You are now on the very spot, Sir, where +Mortimer’s tower stood; it was the main +entrance to the castle, when there was a +lake, and it opened from the tilt-yard, that +ran along the end of the water into the +lower court: you see, Sir, it was quite on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>the opposite side of the castle from Lord +Leicester’s great gate.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton surveyed the place, but not +a vestige of the building remained. “Here +then,” said he, “the unhappy Edward the +Second was, for a while, imprisoned, before +he was removed to Corfe and Berkeley +Castles, his last abodes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you please, Sir,” said the man, “the +chaise is at the gate; and, if you will take +my advice, you will not stay here long, for +I cannot say I like it myself; I shall begin +to think I see that strange figure again, +and I had rather not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, let us go,” said Mr. Simpson, +“or I shall begin to fancy something of +the same sort, too. What did you say, it +had a mask on its face?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sir, and a drawn sword in its +hand; but I don’t like the place, Sir, let +us go.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>“Ay, ay,” said Mr. Simpson, “let us go; +we—we—we shall not get to Warwick +to-night.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>A laugh from his friend, which he too +well understood, both vexed and ashamed +him. “I did not think it possible,” said +he, “that I could have yielded to the +contagion of this folly thus; remember, +however, it is not Elizabeth in her ruff +and farthingale, that I fear, nor any thing +else distinctly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton laughed again triumphantly. +“Better and better; your feelings are +true to my arguments, in spite of your +own. I desire no farther proof of the effects +of time and circumstances—of solitude +and obscurity on the imagination.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>As they passed by Cæsar’s tower, and +inquired where the line of the castle-ditch +had been traced, he observed, that probably +the chief entrance had at first been +<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>over a draw-bridge to that tower, though +now no sign of it could be distinguished.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When the travellers were once more seated +in the chaise, Mr. Simpson betook himself +to sleep; while, on their journey of four +miles through the checkered moonlight +of woody lanes to Warwick, Willoughton +did not lament the silence of his friend, +which left him to the quiet musings of his +own mind, and to the peace of nature, reposing +under this soft and beautiful shade. +The air was so still that scarcely a leaf +trembled of the lofty boughs that overshadowed +the road; and when the postilion +stopped to make some alteration of the +harness, the breathing of the horses alone +was heard through all this scene of night.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is a peace of the spirits, which has +surely somewhat holy in it. Such is the +calmness which the view of a midsummer-dawn +communicates, or that of moonlight +<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>on woods and green plains; and such Willoughton +experienced during this short +ride, till he drew near Warwick, when the +beautiful towers of Saint Mary’s appeared +on the right, and the more lofty and +distant ones of the castle on the left of +the perspective; and these awakened the +stronger interest of expectation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Having reached the inn, and Mr. Simpson, +late as it was, having ordered a good +supper, they walked out to take a view +of the castle. Finding that, at this hour, +they could not gain admittance by the +porter’s gate, they went to the bridge over +the Avon, on the outside of the town, and +thence had a fine retrospect of the castle, +with all its towers crowning the high, +woody bank of that peaceful and classic +stream. One vast, round tower of most +warlike air, looking down upon the precipice, +delighted Willoughton more than any +<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>other. A part of the edifice, repaired and +adorned in the time of James the First, +containing the state rooms, which run in a +long line upon the steep, was not in harmony +with this tower, and gave very different +ideas of the character and manners +of the respective ages to which they +belonged. The moonlight touched this +tower with a fine solemnity, and fell on +the tops of the dark cedars and other trees, +that clothe the precipice, as it glanced to +Shakspeare’s stream below, where it rested +in all its silver radiance, as if pleased to +claim it for its home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton leaned over the bridge, and +looked upon the scene in silence. The +brightness of the river, the dark, clear +shade of the woods, reflected on its margin +and rising with majesty up the steep, +with the grey towers, in softened light, +crowning all, formed a harmony of tints +and of objects such as he had not often +<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>seen, and which recalled to him that +state of holy peace he had so lately experienced.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Amidst the stillness of this scene, there +arose a strain, as if commanded by Shakspeare’s +wand, and to which his words might +have been applied. “O! it came o’er mine +ear, like the sweet south, that breathes +upon a bank of violets.” It was the music +of French horns, sweetened by distance and +by the water, over which it passed, accompanied +by a few voices addressing the river +and celebrating the bard in the well-known +song of Garrick and Arne,—“Thou soft-flowing +Avon!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nothing could exceed the beauty of +some of the cadences, prolonged by the +deep, mellow tones of the horns, or of the +chorus, and of the close, that gave these +words:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The fairies by moonlight dance round the green bed,</div> + <div class='line'>For, hallow’d the turf is, that pillows his head.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>They brought tears into the eyes of +Willoughton, and drew from him a deep +sigh long after silence had returned.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Simpson looked about to discover +whence this charming tribute to the memory +of the loved poet came, and perceived +two little boats stealing along the margin +of the stream, under shadow of the bank +that rose to the castle. The white awning +of the first betrayed it to his eye, before it +emerged on the moonlight; and now the +measured trampling of the oars told its +departing course upon the waters, till +once again that chorus died along the air, +and then the steps of the oars were heard +no more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The travellers remained for some moments, +as if spell-bound, in thoughtful +silence; and they left this enchanting +scene, and returned to their inn, without +having uttered a word. This was an unusual +<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>mood with Mr. Simpson; he had +caught it from his companion, rather than +from the scene; and now, on the entrance +of supper, he rejoiced to get rid of it, and +to return to the more substantial pleasures +of this world.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Willoughton, when he had retired to his +chamber, and had, as was his custom, looked +out upon the night, now overcast with gloomy +clouds, sat down to examine his manuscripts, +instead of seeking repose. Bound +up with that of the “Trew Chronique,” +was another, entitled “A Trew Historie of +two Mynstrells, that came by night to the +Priory of Saint Margaret, and what they +disclosed, and what one in the convent by +his art, proved them to bee.” This “Trew +Historie” was more difficult to be deciphered +than the “Trew Chronique,” and +Willoughton left it for the present, and +took the “Boke of Sprites.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>As he turned over the leaves, curious to +see the thraldom of superstition to which +the people of a remote age were liable, he +often smiled at the artless absurdities he +discovered, the clumsy inventions practised +upon the fears of the ignorant by the venality +of the monks. Yet he sometimes +found his attention seized, in spite of himself, +by the marvellous narratives before +him; till, at length, he began to feel that +he was alone, to recollect that it was past +midnight, to observe that all around him +was still as death; and gradually to think +he might as well lay aside the “Boke +of Sprites” till day-light should return +and the world again sound busily around +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He did so, and again took the “Trew +Chronique,” desirous of ending his long +day, with some new traits of an age so +distant from his own and of the style, in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>which they might be shadowed forth. The +mere spelling did not render this so difficult, +as the character in which it was written, +with its abundance of abbreviations +and contractions.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The following is a modernized copy, +which he afterwards wrote out for the +amusement of a friend, who was fond of +the subjects it touched upon, but had +not industry enough to work his way +through the obstructions of the original. +In this copy, while Willoughton endeavoured +to preserve somewhat of the air of +the old style, without its dryness, he was +often compelled to regret, that much of the +effect of the story was lost, with the simplicity, +brevity and quaintness of the ancient +manner. However, he often retained +the old words, where they did not seem to +form too glaring a contrast with the modern +style, and, now and then, somewhat +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>of the quaintness of the original, the title +of which ran thus:—</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='blackletter'>A Boke,</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='blackletter'>Contenynge a trew chronique of what passed at</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Killingworth, in Ardenn, when Our Soveren</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Lord, the Kynge, kept ther his fest of</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Senzt Michel; with ye marveylous</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>accident, that ther befel, at the solempnissazion</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>of the marriage</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>of Gaston de Blondeville.</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>With divers things, curious</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>to be known,</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>thereunto purtayning.</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>With an</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>account of the</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>grete Turney,</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>ther held</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>in the</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>yere</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>MCCLVI.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='blackletter'>Changed out of the Norman tongue</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>By Grymbald, Monk of Senzt Marie</span></div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Priori in Killingworth.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span></div> +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>THE FIRST DAY.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p class='c011'>At the head of this chapter was a drawing, of +the King and Queen, with their train, passing under +the towers of Kenilworth. Near the King rode a +young knight of a very spirited air; in one hand he +held his cap, bending towards the King, who seemed +to be speaking to him, and with the other he reined +in his fiery courser. At some distance, was a man +pressing through the crowd, with eager gesticulation +and a wild countenance, towards the King. The +royal banner, on the tower above, was tinged by the +setting sun, and the arms and caps of the soldiers +on the battlement there glistened with the rays. +The cap of one of these, who, as if to obtain a longer +view of the King, appeared to have stretched too +far forward, was falling on the multitude below; +some of whom were laughing.</p> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span> + <h3 class='c015'>FIRST DAY.</h3> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>It was at the feast of Saint Michel, +that King Henry, the third of his name, +with his Queen and sundrie of the nobles +of the realm and a marvellous train of +estates and gentils, came to keep court in +Ardenn, at his castle of Kenilworth. The +day was drawing to an end ere they arrived: +and it was a goodly sight to see +this noble company coming over the forest, +till then so lonesome; and the last +light of this day’s sun glittering upon the +helmets and lances of the King’s guard; +likewise on the gorgeous apparelling of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>their horses and trumpets, with their banners +unrolled, that went before his grace; +also on the litters of the Queen, covered +with cloth of gold and with tapestry of +rich colours, brought from her own land +beyond the sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This noble train, with all the spear-men +attendant on the King, was like unto a +little army covering the paths and tracks, +for many miles, as they wound amongst +the woods of Ardenn; or like unto some +mighty river, that flowing along, appears, +where the shades open, in shining bends +upon the plain, and is lost again as they +enter beneath the gloom; but yet may +you judge of their course throughout all +the prospect. Like as you may the broken +lines of the great aqueduct, stretching +over the plains of our dear father of +Rome; which, as we perceive its distant +points athwart those solitudes, we connect +in our minds into one great whole, grander +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>in its sweep than it might have shown +when it stood complete.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There went before the King a hundred +archers in pairs, sumptuously apparelled, +and having the feathers of their arrows +stained with green; the horns sounded +before them through the woods: then +fifty demi-lancemen, two abreast; then +fifty pike-men; then trumpets, with their +banners also displayed; then officers at +arms, in their sur-coats, the serjeants with +their maces. In the midst was borne up +the royal banner, by six of the standard-bearers: +the pipes of it were of silver, +and were slided along the banner-staff; +which was held with horn in a girdle of +white leather, embroidered, worn by the +King’s chief standard-bearer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King’s Highness came riding on a +noble grey, widely encompassed about with +pike-men, and attended by divers nobles +of the realm and by knights and gentils, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>without number. His Highness wore that +day a cloak of purple velvet, lined with +yellow satin, and furred with martin and +ermine; on his head was a cap of black +velvet, bearing a sable plume. His countenance +was goodly and gracious, and he +often turned and spoke to those about +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On his right hand, rode the young +Prince Edward, holding in his fiery charger, +yet looking as though he would fain spur +him to the top of his speed. Next to him +rode the Archbishop of York. On the +King’s left, was his brother, the Earl of +Cornwall. The Bishop of Coventry would +have been there, but he was then lying +sick on his bed; but the Prior and divers +of the monks attended on the King.</p> + +<p class='c012'>First amongst the knights, that waited +on his grace, was Gaston de Blondeville, +a young Provençal; whom King Henry had +raised, for some daring exploits in his dominions +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>beyond the sea, to be a knight of +his household. He was of comely person +and gallant air; and managed his proud +charger with such easy grace, as a lady +might, with silken bandage, guide a fawn. +He wore a cloak of pale olive, lined and +guarded with rose colour; his cap was of +velvet like to it, and he wore his feathers +in the French fashion: for he was of the +Queen’s country, and had all the gaiety +of her nation in his countenance and ’haviour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Yet were there some in the court, men +of English ground, who liked him not; it +may be, because he was a stranger in our +land, or that he bore a proud defiance in +his eye, or that they envied him his favour +with the King.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Some way before the Queen, went fifty of +the foresters of Ardenn clothed in green, +sounding their horns. She was in her litter, +tapestried with cloth of gold, and she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>was compassed all about with her ladies +and her nobles and esquires. Her litter +was borne by two brave coursers, right +richly trapped with velvet, and led by +pages apparelled in sumptuous liveries; +other pages, in ‘broidered doublets, went +beside her, or following. Then came her +master of the horses, leading her palfrey, +very richly appointed, the bridle and +breast-chain studded with jewels, followed +by another of her palfreys, led by a page. +Her Highness was adorned in a close gown +of velvet, ’broidered about with pearls, and +bearing upon her head a great hood of +black velvet, richly sewed with large pearls. +Following her Highness, came her ladies +and gentlewomen mounted on fair palfreys, +richly appointed and apparelled; a goodly +company.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then came her Highness’s chariot empty, +drawn by six horses, led by pages in +jackets of scarlet damask, with the English +<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>crown ’broidered on their backs. They +bore in their caps a white feather; dropping +aside, in the manner of France, whereat +the people murmured, and well they +might; for such a sight of strangers, from +her own land, the like was never seen! +But the Queen bore herself so graciously towards +the people, smiling upon them with +her comely countenance, that she won away +their discontent. Other gentlewomen of +her court followed her car, mounted on +palfreys.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Next came Eleanor, the widowed Countess +of Pembroke, the King’s sister, now +Countess of Leicester, in her litter, with a +sumptuous train: and then Cincia, the +Countess of Cornwall, the sister of the +Queen, right freshly apparelled, and sumptuously +attended by noble dames and gentils; +and a sight of people followed, in the +different liveries of their masters.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Before the Queen, went her <i>mynstrells +<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>of music</i>; who, when they came nigh to +Kenilworth, began to blow upon their pipes, +and to strum their stringed instruments +with most sweet noise—so that the bells of +a village there, which were rung for mirth, +could not be heard so far.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Amongst the damsels attending the +Queen, none were so fair as the lady Isabel, +daughter of the Earl of Arundel, and +the lady Barbara, daughter of the Earl of +Huntingdon; who followed her Highness, +on white palfreys. Ychon of them was +beautiful beyond thought: the lady Isabel +was the more stately and carried a +higher brow; but Lady Barbara’s smiles +were blyther than the morn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Soon as the towers of Kenilworth showed +themselves upon the West, which, if +it had not been for the glowing spears +of those on the battlements, would hardly +have been known from the dark woodtops,—soon +as they appeared, some halfscore +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>of the foresters rode forward with +their bugles, to give sign of the King’s approach; +but were straight sounded back +by the trumpets, which blew up a blast, +that filled the forest, and echoed to the +very castle walls, ere the proud trumpeters +would stop.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then his Highness courteously commanded, +that those who had come forth +so many miles, to welcome him on his +way, should be appointed to proclaim +him at the gates. They waited not for +second bidding; but, tuning up so clear +and sweet, set spurs to their hobbies, and +flew swiftly as the arrows from their own +bows.</p> + +<p class='c012'>All the way hence to Kenilworth was +lined with other troops of foresters in +green; who, at certain distances, saluted +the King, as he passed, with their bugles, +in spite of the trumpets, that charged so +loud and shrill their minet-flourishes: and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>they followed in the Queen’s train. The +King’s pike-men and lance-men going +after of all.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the first sound of the bugles before +the gate, you might see the great banner +of England raised upon the keep of Kenilworth. +Then, the chief wardour of the +castle appeared upon the turret; though he +stayed not long there, but went down to +join his lord, in their service at the gate. +The archers behind the battlements stood +in order; other bow-men and the lance-men +ranged themselves behind the tower-walls, +and the trumpets there answered +the summons, with a blast, that shook the +forest, and made the fair waters of the valley +tremble; roughening the portraiture +of towers and woods, which had seemed +to sleep upon their surface, as in a glass +of chrystal.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then the Lord Constable, coming down +from the keep, followed by a posse of his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>officers, took to horse and went out to meet +the King. As he turned out of the gate, +he met the Prior of Saint Mary’s, with +the twelve canons, and a long train processioning, +all in full ceremony, bearing +precious reliques, to welcome his Highness; +after them came the priest and sundry of +the parish-church, singing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The press of people, from all the country +about, was so thick, that hardly could +the monks make way among them. The +castellan, a man proud and jealous of his +high place, was not well pleased, that +they should try to present themselves to +the King, before himself; but they were +soon right glad to follow in his train, for +strait as he appeared, the crowd was +forced back, and they passed, without +difficulty, in that wise, full three furlongs.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The castellan, coming in presence of +his Highness, leaped from his horse, and, +on his knee, presented him the keys of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>the castle, on a rich plate; the which his +Highness readily delivered to him again, +with a gracious speech, bearing, that they +were well in his custody. Then, the Prior +and canons of Saint Mary’s showed themselves +in procession, with banners, and +chaunting sweet anthems, and his Highness +looked kindly on them; after which +they went on to the Queen, and, paying +duty, attended her to the castle. But +my Lord Constable, remounting his horse, +rode bareheaded before his Highness, to +the very gates.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Immediately before the King, was borne +his sword of justice, by the Lord Hubert +de Lacey; where, on the sheath, you might +behold, in letters of rubies, these words, +“Truth and Right.” As he passed all +the people cried out, “King Henry, King +Henry, long live King Henry! and blessings +on your sweet-favoured visage!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then, they threw forth on the air, for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>joy, among other tokens, corn and flour; +so that many of the nobles of the realm, +nay, some of the King’s guard, liked it +not, for the flour-dust, falling on their +garments, disguised them like unto grinders +of corn: but they held their peace, +as needs must, passing on in solemn stateliness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Before the castle gates, a great show +of the King’s bow-men were drawn out +to receive him, and the courts within were +lined, and every tower and battlement was +thronged with his soldiers. There, too, +were the foresters ready at the gates, who, +on the King’s approach tuned up their +merry bugles, with might and main; as +though one breath sounded through the +whole of them. But, when the heralds +passed under the towers, their trumpets +took their revenge, for they gave many +blasts, that made every court within shake +for joy; and showed more like a triumph +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>of war than a flourish of festival. They +on the ramparts now seemed to take the +hint, and joined them with such warrior-sounds +of fierce disdain, that the clear +bugle seemed but as a shepherd-pipe beneath +them, and, for a season, was not +heard at all.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Certes, the noise of the trumpets and +cornets, the clanging of bells, the trampling +of horses over the bridge, the striking +of swords upon shields, with, ever and +anon, the shouts of the multitude, astounded +cattle and fowl in the woods, far +and wide. Old wives and they that might +not leave their homes for sickness could +hear the mingled uproar; and could know +as surely, when the King reached Kenilworth, +as those, who had journeyed thither +to behold him. And many an outlaw +in the forest, who feared to show his face +among the crowd, lay hearkening in his +den, or stalked under the old oaks, while +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>he watched the minutes of the coming +twilight, and reckoned on the booty he +should seize from careless travellers, returning, +at night, to distant towns.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Some too there were, who, in the pathless +holds of this forest, heard the far-off +voice of joyance and society, with bitter +grief; finding out, too late, they were not +made for that lonesomeness of heart their +thoughtless vices had condemned them to. +Alas! for such, let them shrive and betake +themselves, as penitents, to holy cloister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When the Queen’s litter came near the +gates of the castle, her minstrels of music +sang with most sweet glee, and the bugles +saluted her as she passed into the barbican, +or first tower of defence; but, soon as she +appeared on the draw-bridge, the trumpets +from the ramparts blew up a flourish, and +then the minstrels stopped, though they +had not finished their fit. And they did +well; for hardly could there be heard the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>trampling of the horses’ hoofs upon the +bridge, nor the distant music in the courts +before the King. The walls and turrets, +thronged with faces, seemed to be alive, +and to shout, as with one voice, “Queen +Eleanor! Queen Eleanor! long live Queen +Eleanor!”—but some few were heard to +shout, “Away with the foreigners!—away +with all foreigners!” which the good +Queen seemed not to hear, though she +guessed in her heart what they said; and +many a noble knight and lady near her +knew well. She, with unchanged countenance, +showed only sweet smiles to those +numberless eyes, darting from the walls +and battlements, all turned upon her litter, +as it passed over the bridge, glittering in +the last beams of this day’s sun, and then +entered beneath that deep and dark archway +of the great tower, leading into the +base court.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Beyond, in the sunshine, could be seen +<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>the King’s Highness, preceded by the Lord +Constable, and having the Archbishop on +his right and Prince Edward on his left, +passing forward to the upper court; where, +on the steps, stood the marshals of the hall, +the stewards, the esquires of the household, +with many officers of the castle, waiting to +receive him, some with chains of gold on +their necks: the royal banner waving over +all. They stood so thick, looking over one +another’s shoulders, face above face, on the +steps there, that they seemed like a rampart +of heads; while, below them, in the +same court, the lance-men and yeomen of +the household stood waiting to receive the +Queen.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And truly it was a pleasureful sight, to +behold that vision of light appearing beyond +the deep portal, under which stood, +on either hand, the wardours in their niches, +to the number of eight; so dim, they +showed like shadows more than substance, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>albeit, they did not lack of that. And a +more delightful sight it was to behold the +Queen and all her train, winding through +that dark arch into the beams beyond; the +rich trappings of steeds and men, their +breast-plates and spears and steel caps, all +glancing in the setting sun. There, too, +you might see, through the higher bars +of the portcullis, the windows of the great +chamber hung out with tapestry of silk +and cloth of gold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But that, which caused some surprise to +those who watched without, was a sudden +turmoil, that appeared around the King in +the court, just as the Queen’s litter was +advancing forth of the archway. A man +was seen forcing himself among the guards, +towards his Highness, who turned his face +backwards in the sun, as if to see what +was going on; and seemed to rein in his +steed, while he held forth his right arm to +Sir Gaston de Blondeville, who, with cap +<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>in hand, leaned forward on his courser, as +if receiving some command. The while, +the heads and spears of soldiers gathered +round, moving in tumultuous hurry, rising +and falling incessantly, like unto those +stormy white tops coming on over a darkened +sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On a sudden, the King disappeared: +some thought he had fallen from his steed, +struck by the hand of the stranger; and +then, such was the throng of people beyond +the portal to get forward for more certainty, +that hardly could the Queen’s guard +keep them back, till his Highness was seen +ascending the steps of the high court.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At last, out of the midst of the confusion +a shield was seen raised upon the traversed +spears of six soldiers, and borne +towards the outer gate, having upon it a +man stretched, as if dead. But at the +great portal the soldiers stopped, and drew +aside to make way for the Queen; his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>Highness, meanwhile, with his nobles and +young knight, had withdrawn into the +state apartments.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When her Highness was gone by, they +brought the man upon the shield into the +free air without the walls, and lowered +their burden on the grass; but the tumult +of the people was so great, (they suspecting +that he had attempted the Kings life) +that the soldiers with their spears had +much ado to save him from their fury, or +to keep a little space open around him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was a man of goodly appearance, +that lay there, seeming without life. Anon, +he began to stir himself, and in a little +while opened his eyes; the which, when +the people saw it, redoubled their fury; +and they demanded, that he should be had +to prison, for “he has assailed the life of +our good King!” With that they made +such a roaring, that the shouts of the +soldiers, who wanted to set them right, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>could not be heard, the women brawling +louder than all of them together.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thus it went for some time: and then, +the noise being hushed, they found out +the man was innocent of what they had +suspected.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When the stranger had recovered himself +a little, he stared wildly; and, raising +himself up, he looked round him, as if +examining the countenance of every one, +whom curiosity or anger had made to +bend over him. And so he looked again +and again, till they asked him, if he +thought he saw the countenance of any +one there, whom he knew. Then he +fetched a deep sigh, and said, “I as surely +saw him as I now breathe, but he is not +here.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Divers present then asked him, of whom +he spoke, but he only muttered to himself, +“I could not be deceived; it is impossible +for me ever to forget him.” Then he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>shook from limb to limb, and was nigh +going off into a swoon again. The people, +meanwhile, pressed upon the soldiers +to know what all this meant; and curiosity +and pity began to take the place of +rage.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The tale went, that, as King Henry had +approached the entrance of the second +court, this man, who had passed the portal +amongst the King’s horses, at the risk of +his life, came beside him, and, having fixed +his eyes with the greatest attention upon +a knight of the King’s household, cried +out, “Justice! most noble Henry.” Then, +as if unable to utter something he would +have spoken, he fell down in strong convulsions, +and was nigh being trampled to +death. His Highness, seeing the condition +of the man, had commanded he should +be taken forth of the court, and aid administered +to him; and this was all the +soldiers could tell.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>There were some amongst the crowd +who thought they had seen him before, +and questioned him of his name, and +wherefore he had presumed to approach +the King in such manner; to all which +he would nothing answer; but seemed +heavy at heart, and as if his very sadness +would not let him speak; only these words +he uttered, once or more,—“It was he +himself! I should have known him at +Cairo!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Some still said they had seen the poor +man before; naithless he proved to be a +stranger in Kenilworth. When he could +walk, he was led back to the little hostel, +where he had taken up his lodging, and +there he remained closely hid from the +eyes of every one, all that night.</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span></div> +<div class='chapter ph3'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>THE SECOND DAY.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p class='c012'>At the head of this chapter was a view of the +tilt-yard, at the end of the great lake, with the +towers of Kenilworth above.—In the lists were two +armed knights, on foot, each poising his spear at +the other. They were cased in complete steel; +their visors closed, each bearing on his helmet his +plume and crest. There was somewhat very impressive +in the station and in the whole appearance +of these armoured figures. Each stood with his +right foot advanced; the right arm, holding the +spear, was raised high, displaying at once the +strength and grace of an accomplished warrior. At +the end and along one side of the tilt-yard, were +galleries hung with tapestry, where sat the Queen +and her ladies, and the King and his nobles, waiting +to behold the encounter. The opposite sides were +open to the lake, the woods, and the castle.</p> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span> + <h3 class='c015'>THE SECOND DAY.</h3> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>In the morn, next after the King came +to Kenilworth, there was tilting in the +great yard of the castle, at which his Highness, +with the Queen and her court, were +present. This was the day of Turney; but, +although this noble company made a goodly +show, they were not apparelled with that +splendour they showed on the chief day, +as will be hereafter rehearsed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Among the ladies of the court, none surpassed +for beauty the lady Barbara, daughter +of the Earl of Huntingdon and a favourite +damsel of the Queen; her the King +intended to bestow in marriage, during +<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>his sojourn in Ardenn. She was innocent +and graceful, as the fawns that bound in +our forest, and excelled in all the accomplishments +of the court. She had fixed +her heart on Sir Gaston de Blondeville, a +young knight of the King’s household, who +had entreated her of her father in vain; +for, though he was of a good family, it was +a foreign one, being of the Queen’s country, +and he had little besides the favour of his +master to depend on. The youth was of +a comely person and gallant bearing; well +practised in all martial exercises of war, +of which he had given some proof in exploits, +and had latterly so much displayed +himself in a fierce adventure against some +of King Henry’s rebellious subjects, beyond +sea, that his Highness had incontinently +advanced him to be one of his own knights. +Moreover, the King, on hearing of his ill-faring +suit, had taken that matter into his +special cognizance; and the King knew +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>so well how to command the earl, that he +consented to give his daughter to the knight, +and his Highness determined the marriage +should be solemnized forthwith.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But, on this very first day, after his arrival, +his spirit was ruffled by a strange +accident. As his Highness was returning +from the Tilt-yard, accompanied by the +Queen, and attended by the whole court, +his harpers playing before him, a stranger +came forth of the crowd, and falling at his +feet, called out boldly for justice. Many +there present knew him for the man who, +the night before, had showed such striking +signs of a disturbed mind; and now, noting +his unseemly vehemence, they stopped +and asked for what offence he demanded +justice. The King, too, remembered him; +and listening what he should say, the man, +observing that, addressed his looks and his +voice eagerly to him, and exclaimed, that +he demanded justice upon robbers and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>murderers who infested the highways of +his kingdom with more violence and frequency +than was ever known before, so +that none of his peaceable subjects were +safe from them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King, seeing the wildness of his +look and the strangeness of his gesture, +guessed the man was not rightly himself; +yet he commanded him forthwith into the +castle, there to wait, till he should speak +with him, or order some others to do so; +and the procession passed on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Meanwhile, the King determined not +to leave this matter, till he should have +seen something more about it, with his +own discernment. He went speedily into +the white hall, which was the court of +justice, keeping only a few of his nobles +and other attendants, where he summoned +the stranger before him, and had question +put to him, who he was and of what particular +grievance he had to complain.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>The man answered, that his name was +Hugh Woodreeve, a merchant of Bristol: +and then he told his story—that, three +years before, travelling with a very large +sum of money in his possession, and, being +in company with three other travellers, +two of them merchants of good repute, +and the other a kinsman of his own, they +were attacked in the forest of Ardenn, +when about two miles from Kenilworth, +and robbed of nearly all they carried. +They did not part with it quietly, it was +so much. His kinsman, however, was the +only one of the party that had good arms; +he had served in the wars, and he now +manfully resisted the ruffians, who directed +most of their vengeance to him; he +was murdered on the spot; for the rest +of his company, they escaped with some +hurts. No one of the robbers was killed, +but two or three were wounded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Here the merchant stopped and seemed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>ready to sink. His Highness, having declared +his indignation at this villany, assured +the merchant, that justice should be +done upon the guilty, if they could be +found, and asked whether he could swear +to them, if he should see them again. +The stranger straight replied, that he +could truly swear to the murderer, and +that he had seen him in the very court, +nay, that he saw him at that very instant, +standing even beside the King’s chair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>King Henry, struck with astonishment, +fixed his eyes sternly on the stranger, for +a moment, and then looked at those +around him. On his right hand, was his +son, Prince Edward, and, on his left, his +young favourite, Gaston de Blondeville, +upon whom all eyes were fastened; for +to him the answer pertayned, and to him +the accuser pointed, with a look of horror, +which convinced every one present, except +his Highness, he did indeed believe he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>saw before him the murderer of his friend, +whether his fancy deceived him, or not. +For the King himself, he inclined to think +the accuser was either disordered in his +mind, or that, from some unknown cause, +he was the enemy of Sir Gaston; and his +Highness knew well of the unreasonable +and deadly abhorrence, in which many +of his subjects of Britain held some of +those strangers from France, who had +risen into favour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the boldness of this accusation, Sir +Gaston stood, at first, like one stricken +with dismay; then, moving his hand +towards his sword, he said, “but for the +presence of the King, my master, I should +soon avenge me for so foul a slander.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>To which the merchant, now much +more tranquil than he had been, said, +“The same reason must restrain all; but +I do not need it: I would not set my life +<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>against that of an assassin! I ask for +justice from his Highness.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>At these words, Sir Gaston was hardly +withheld from his accuser. King Henry +commanded silence: and, as soon as all +noise had ceased, he turned with a severe +countenance to the stranger, and said, +“Know you not, that he, whom you accuse +is a knight of my household, advanced +to honour for his valour?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yea, noble King Henry,” replied the +merchant, “I have heard so; but, I repeat, +he is the man who killed my kinsman! +I never can forget that face: if I +had met him in a distant land, I should +have seized him for the murderer!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King, more fully convinced of the +unsoundness of his mind, said, “Your +passion has deceived you; thus far I am +willing to pardon you; if you go farther, +you must be taught what it is to dishonour +a gentleman and a knight.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>Upon this, the merchant fell at the +King’s feet; and, with uplifted hands, again +cried out for justice! Henry, hardly less +astonished at the resolution of the man, +than that one of his household should be +thus accused, (although he might have +bethought him of the law he had himself +found it expedient to make heretofore at +Kenilworth, respecting robberies then committed +in a very extraordinary manner on +the highways)—King Henry, though astonished, +began to doubt. He fixed a look, +in which there was somewhat of inquiry, +upon Sir Gaston, whose visage was pale, +though his eye was fierce; but who may +say, whether fear or anger maketh some +men pale?</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King held it to be the last; a +momentary doubt had entered his mind; +but he promptly dismissed it. His Highness +was commanding, that the stranger +should be removed; and, for the present, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>confined in the castle; when Prince Edward, +who, young as he was, had closely +observed all that had passed, craved humbly +of the King, his father, to suffer the +merchant to be further questioned; and +the King consented thereto.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then the man was asked, whether he +could tell the year and the month, when +the robbery he spoke of had been committed. +He was ready enough with his +answers, and said it was on the eighteenth +of October, in the year twelve hundred +and fifty-three, and on the chase; that he +was sure of the time, because it was within +three days of that, when he should have +paid to a goldsmith the most part of the +money, whereof he was robbed. Upon +this, the King seemed to consider awhile, +for he knew, that, about that time, a +camp lay in the neighbourhood of Warwick +and on the edge of the forest, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>that Sir Gaston was there, he being then +serving as esquire to Sir Pierse Mallory.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the last words of the merchant, +Sir Gaston moved towards the King, as +though he would privily say something; +but his Highness reproved him with a +frown; and asked the merchant at +what hour the robbery was committed, +and what were the array and appearance +of the robbers?</p> + +<p class='c012'>The knight interrupting the reply, then +said aloud, “Sire! I entreat you, be mindful +of the condition of disgrace, in which +I must stand, if you seem to give countenance +to this scandalous accusation. I +know not, that I shall be able to breathe, +if it be thought, that your Highness could, +for one minute, think it possible I could +have committed so foul a deed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>King Henry, looking kindly upon him +said, “It is right you should be cleared +with those, who know you not so well as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>I do; and chiefly with those, who love not +men of your country; and, therefore, +would I examine this witless charge to +the uttermost.” His Highness then made +all his questions over again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The merchant considered awhile, and +somewhat of his boldness seemed to forsake +him: he then answered, “the number +of the robbers was three; they were +most of them tall in stature; they wore +cloaks about them, and had masks on +their faces.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Masks?” said the King.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Masks!” murmured the courtiers, +with one voice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King, daunting the accuser with +the anger of his countenance, said, “You +could swear to this knight, as one of the +robbers, and yet you say, he had a mask +on his face! I suspect you now for an +impostor more than for a moody man. If +it prove so, tremble! for I swear by my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>sword you shall not escape. I give you +one more warning, to stop before you totally +plunge into your ruin.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>At these words, delivered with vehemence, +the paleness left Sir Gaston’s face, +and he made a profound obeisance, showing +his gratitude to the King. The accuser, +dismayed, could not immediately find +his voice, as it seemed. Haply, he could +not so speedily send back his thoughts to +the rest of his story. Incontinently, the +most of the assemblage began to look +ychon in other’s face.</p> + +<p class='c012'>By-and-bye, the merchant said, that in +the struggle between his companions and +the robbers, two of the vizors fell off, and +so he saw plainly the faces of the robbers, +and he perfectly remembered the face of +the knight. His Highness, without telling +his thoughts on this, which many there +present scrupled not to hold an after-invention +of the accuser, commanded him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>to begin his tale anew, and to tell, one +by one, every particular he could bring to +mind of the alleged adventure; but before +he began, Sir Gaston, surveying him, +asked whether, about four years back, he +was not at Embrun, in the Dauphiné.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Denying, that he had been at that place, +the accuser then renewed his story, which +purported, that he and his companions +were travelling, about the close of day, +through the forest, or chase, of Kenilworth, +when they were attacked by robbers. He +was bidden to repeat the number of them +and of his company, which he did, without +varying his tale. The King asked how +long after sunset it was when the assault +began? which he could not readily tell; +but said it was so nearly dark, that hardly +could he see the figures of the robbers +under the shade of the woods, from which +they burst: the merchant paused a moment—</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>“Go on,” said the King, impatiently:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But I could, afterwards, see them +plainly enough by a torch I took from +my companions, who had lighted it, at +a smith’s in a village by the way-side; an +iron-smith’s.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King asked him if he knew the +name of this village, but he knew it +not; and whether he should know the +smith again? and he answered, he thought +he should. Then he was ordered to proceed +with his story:</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My kinsman,” said he, “was the only +one of us, who was well-armed; and a +braver spirit never lived. He fought with +his sword that man, who now stands beside +your Highness; it was a trusty weapon, +and had done him good service in +Syria, where he had it for booty, after a +skirmish, as I heard. When my kinsman +first made up to that man, I followed him +with the torch, and to aid him, as I might, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>with an oaken staff I had in my hand; +but I received a blow upon the arm, that +held the torch, which was knocked to the +ground, and the vizor of the man fell also, +that very man, who now presses behind +your Highness’s chair. The torch was not +extinguished, and, by its light, I plainly +saw that same countenance, that now +glares upon me so vengefully. I saw it +while he aimed the blow, which penetrated +the head of my unfortunate kinsman, +Reginald de Folville.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The merchant paused, seemingly overcome +by the remembrance of this event, +while Sir Gaston exclaimed,—“Was it +Reginald de Folville? He was esquire to +a knight of Saint John, and was then at +Lydda: so much for the truth of your +story in that main point.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the first words of Sir Gaston, the +King and the courtiers had turned their +faces upon him; but though his words +<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>were so strong and sufficient, they beheld +in his countenance paleness and consternation. +But he soon recovered; and, asking +pardon of his Highness for the emotion +with which he had spoken, accounted for +it by saying, that Reginald de Folville had +been his earliest friend.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your father’s friend, you must surely +mean,” said the merchant; “for he was at +the wars at a time, that would have made +that possible. You must have been a child, +when he went there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I <i>was</i> then a child,” said Sir Gaston, +averting his eyes from the stranger; “and +I must ever remember the kindness he +showed me after the death of my father; +I owe him much. He went from Provence +to Syria; I heard he fell in battle +there. Sure I am he never returned: he +died in battle there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He died in the forest of Ardenn,” said +the merchant with solemnity, “and lies +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>buried in the priory of Saint Mary here. He +died by your hand: that is his very sword +by your side; I remember it now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The audacity of this assertion struck all +present and none more than the King himself. +His Highness desired to examine the +sword, and asked the merchant why he +had not sooner challenged it; to which he +answered nothing. Sir Gaston, as he delivered +it on his knee to the King, said—“If +I know my accuser, which I think I +do, he is no stranger to this weapon: he +knows well that I usually wear it; but it +never belonged to Reginald de Folville. +My liege, it was my father’s sword; he +won it in the plains of Palestine.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King examined it with attention. +It was of eastern shape and finely wrought. +In the hilt were a few jewels. Prince +Edward, as he leaned over it, pointed +out to his father a motto in an unknown +tongue; and then, at some distance below +<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>it, a date, with the Roman letters, H. A., +remarking, that probably these letters alluded +to some exploit achieved in the year +noted. The King addressed himself to +Sir Gaston for the meaning of the motto +and of these letters; but he knew not +their meaning, and said they were as when +his father won the sword from his enemy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then the King addressed the merchant +with the same question, observing, that, as +the sword seemed to be familiar to him, he +probably had been told the signification of +the letters on it. With that, the merchant +was hastily advancing to receive it of one, +to whom his Highness had delivered it; +when he suddenly drew back, covered his +eyes with his hand, and stood immovable. +Those near almost expected to see him fall, +as he had done before in the castle court +on the night last past. Sir Gaston, at the +same time, stepping forward, presumed to +take it, and to deliver it again to the King, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>with these words:—“Your Highness will +not tempt the villany of this man by +putting him in possession of the sword +he falsely claims.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But the merchant claimed it not; nor +could he even endure to look upon it. +Heavy sighs burst from him, while with +eyes still covered with his hands, he said,—“That +was the sword, with which the villain +murdered him; and can I endure to +take it in my hand, and to look upon the +blade, on which his life blood flowed?” and +he groaned more piteously than before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were some in the hall, who instantly +thought this sorrow of the merchant +was a mimickry, and asked how it +could happen, that his kinsman was killed +by his own weapon; to which, soon as he +could recollect his thoughts, he made answer, +that the robber, on wrenching the +sword from his friend, struck him his +death-wound with it. The King, returning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>the sword to the young knight, bade +him keep it forthcoming till he should demand +it of him again, and then said to the +stranger these or such-like words:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You, a man unknown to me and to +mine, and without a name, except as far +as you have declared one, have dared to +come into my court, and to accuse to me +one of my own servants, a gentleman and +a knight, of a crime most foul and incredible. +You have related your story, +and I have waited patiently for some evidence, +that the murderer of your kinsman, +if, in truth, he were ever destroyed by violence, +was Sir Gaston de Blondeville. I +find none, except your story. And in this +you have not scrupled to affirm, that you +would have seized him for the murderer, +even in a distant land, though you also +say, that your knowledge of his countenance +was obtained only from the sudden +(and, therefore, the uncertain) light of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>a torch lying on the ground, at a moment, +when the danger you were yourself exposed +to, might, it may be readily believed, +have prevented you from closely observing +any face whatsoever. You must be held +unworthy of credit; and I commit you into +safe custody, till it shall be discovered +who you are, and who those are, who +urged you to this base accusation.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>When his Highness had ended, they +were going to convey away the merchant +from his presence, but he craved leave to +speak, and it was granted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My liege,” said he, “at any other than +that moment of horror, I might have seen +the face of this stranger, without remembering +it the next; but the impression +made, at that moment, will remain with +me, as long as the strong feelings, which +then struck me, shall return with the recollection +of my kinsman’s fate. On seeing +the same face, I was seized with the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>same horror; your Highness’s people can +be witnesses, that yester-eve, when I saw +that knight, I fell into convulsions, and +was carried senseless from your presence.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>His Highness, remembering what had +happened, and, on inquiry, finding, that +this was the very man, who had then +fallen senseless, perceived, that the merchant +had not spoken this untruly. He +asked again whether he was known to +any person in Kenilworth, also whether +either of the merchants, travelling in his +company, at the period of the alleged +murder, was at hand. The accuser stood, +for a while, bewildered, and then repeating, +that he was a stranger, having only +passed through the place, a few times, +on his way to or from Coventry, said, that +of his two companions one was dead, +and the other following his merchandize, +in a distant land.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then,” said the King, “it appears you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>cannot bring any evidence of the truth of +your story; even so far, as that a robbery +was actually committed. Your accusation +of this knight is, therefore, likely to +be impelled either by malice, or by some +other bad motive. If it shall prove so, +dread the punishment that awaits you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My liege,” said Sir Gaston, “I think +I know the man, and also his motive. He +wronged my father at Embrun; and now +his malice,—but this story is connected +with family circumstances, that should +only be divulged to your Highness; and, +if you will suffer me to unfold them in +private, I shall prove, not mine innocence +only—for of that your Highness does not +doubt—but that man’s former and present +guilt.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>At these words, the stranger fell again +on his knees, and besought aloud justice +on “a villain.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King looked long upon him and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>upon Sir Gaston, and sat pondering awhile. +He then turned to the merchant, and, +bidding him rise, asked him, a second +time, if he were not known to any one +person in Kenilworth? and received for +answer, “Only as a traveller.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An adventure as remarkable as that +you have related,” pursued his Highness, +“must have been known here at the time +it happened, and must be remembered +now. It is strange, if there be none who +can recollect you also.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My lord,” observed Prince Edward, +“he said his friend was buried here in +the priory. If so, the prior must know +him and his strange history.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Said he so?” quoth the King; and, +turning to the stranger, he inquired how +it happened, that he was not known to the +prior? and who it was that commanded +the burial of his kinsman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The merchant said, he had himself ordered +<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>it, and had conversed with a monk +and even with the Prior himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then you are known to the Prior, at +least,” said the King; “he will surely recollect +your story: let him be sent for. It +is strange you should have said you were +unknown: you are either guilty of falsehood, +or your senses are unsettled.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The stranger raised his hand to his head +and sighed. “I recollect the Prior,” said +he, “but he may not remember me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We shall see!” said the King, calmly, +as he rose from his chair: “If you are +innocent, fear not! if you are guilty, you +will lose your life, in seeking that of an +innocent man.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>As his Highness left the hall, he looked +somewhat sternly upon the accuser, and +commanded, that he should be held in +close custody, while more inquiry should +be made. He then ordered Sir Gaston to +attend him in his privy-chamber, and so +<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>departed forth of the hall, leaving the +accuser speechless and dismayed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As the merchant was led through this +court of the castle to the tower, where +was his prison, the lady Barbara, sitting +in her bower-window above, saw the passing +crowd, and inquired the occasion of +it; but none would inform her. While +she gazed with curiosity, she observed Sir +Gaston going to the King’s privy-chamber; +he looked not at her window, but went +his way with a hurried step, and with +such a countenance as she had never witnessed +in him, till this time. At length, +word was brought to my lady, her mother, +of what had passed before his Highness. +The Earl, her father, was promptly filled +with disgust; and thought the occurrence +would be sufficient to prevent the marriage, +which neither his English heart, nor +his pride of ancient blood, had suffered +him to approve. His daughter, the lady +<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>Barbara, was differently minded; she +would not believe him she loved capable +of even a dishonourable action, much less +of so foul a one; and, assured of his innocence, +she would have thrown herself at +the King’s feet, had that seemed always, +as it did at first, proper, to urge his Highness +to clear Sir Gaston instantly from the +suspicion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But truly the King needed no advocate +for Sir Gaston de Blondeville; and so she +thought, at last. His Highness’s own inclination +was sufficient; and so angered +was his generous spirit by what he held +to be not only a false, but a malicious accusation, +that he had determined after +proof of this, to give a signal warning by +the accuser’s doom; and this not only +to prevent other false accusations proceeding +from private motives, but to reprove +and caution those of his subjects, who had +a public prejudice against strangers, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>were too likely to delight in the ruin of +such especially as had risen to honours.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King, therefore, willingly gave audience +privately to the young knight, that +he might explain to him the circumstances, +which should assure him of his +innocence. What Sir Gaston told his +Highness was never assuredly known; +some reports went on one side of the matter, +some on the other: there was not one +witness of what passed. Who then might +know, unless they could guess by the countenances, +and by what passed, when the +hearing was over? But, if they had gone +by no other guide, they would have been +all for the knight, since he had made the +King quite convinced; and moreover, the +Earl of Huntingdon was summoned to the +closet, where the King promised him the +honour of the young knight would always +remain unsullied in his opinion; and so +commanded, that the marriage with the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>lady Barbara should be solemnized, as +had been before appointed, on the day +next following.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Earl besought, nay, as some say, +dared to remonstrate, that the marriage +should be postponed till the stranger +should have been lawfully convicted of +falsehood; but his Highness said, “Nay; +lest it should seem that the accusation +was probable enough to require such delay. +It is already well-known, as a matter +agreed upon, that the nuptials are to be +held on the morrow, the preparations are +nearly all made, and they are public. It is +necessary for the honour of Sir Gaston de +Blondeville, that the appointment should +be kept. If you are not convinced, still +you will not be required to make disavowal +of any thought you may have; for +I myself will lead your daughter to the +porch, and will so, by my presence and +by this act of parental kindness, show my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>estimation both of the fair bride and of +him who shall become your son. Farther +proof of my regard shall not be wanting +hereafter.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>His Highness was peremptory, and the +Earl, swayed by his master’s positive opinion, +and, it may be, by that promise of regard +hereafter, at last obeyed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>While these things were passing in the +King’s chamber, the unhappy merchant +was taken to a turret of the castle, called +Cæsar’s Tower; and there, with nothing +but a pallet and the bare walls, was left to +think of his jeopardy. What his thoughts +were I know not; but he was heard sorely +to sigh and groan, and with good reason; +for, if he knew himself perjured, he knew +also, that he should find no mercy from the +King; and, if innocent, he could expect +little justice against so great a favourite. +But, whatever were his meditations, they +held not till night, for he was called and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>led forth of the tower into the presence of +the King; and, before even-song, the Prior +of Saint Mary’s was in attendance upon his +Highness. He was not an aged man, yet +was he a stern one. When he was asked +whether ever before he had seen the merchant, +he answered resolutely, that he had +no knowledge of him. The same question +being put to the merchant, touching his +knowledge of the Prior, he returned a like +answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At this seeming self-contradiction, the +King could scarcely command his anger, +till it was discovered, that a Prior of Saint +Mary’s had died, since the time when the +murder was alleged to have been committed, +and that it must needs be he, whom +the merchant meant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But, where is the monk, with whom +you consulted?” asked the King; “can you +tell his name?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“His name was Ewdwyn,” replied the +merchant.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>“He died yesternight!” said the Prior.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At this there was a pause, and a dead +silence throughout the chamber. Sir Gaston +looked darkly on his accuser; his +accuser directed his eyes to the King and +then on high; but, in a short minute, he +fell down, as though he were a dying man. +The King, touched at his sufferings, commanded +him from his chamber, that aid +might be administered unto him. And +then, that he might know whether this accusation +of Sir Gaston were through malice, +or mistake—for now pity inclined him to +think the last—and also, that Sir Gaston +might have mistaken, when he took this +for the man, of whose deeds at Embrun he +had talked; that he might know the truth +on all this, he ordered the Prior to make inquiry +in his community, whether the body +of any person known to have been murdered +in the forest of Ardenn, three years +before, had been deposited in the chapel, +or in the cemetery of the convent. Likewise, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>he commanded the Prior to have +inquiry made in Kenilworth, whether any +person remembered such an accident, or +any house had received the dead body. +And this he ordered, that it might always +be seen he had desired to have justice done +towards the wretched merchant, as well as +for Sir Gaston de Blondeville.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This being appointed, the King departed +to his great chamber, there to keep his +state; the Prior to his convent, to resume +his spiritual musings; the accused lover to +his mistress; and the merchant was conveyed +to his prison tower.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King kept state, that night, with the +Earl of Cornwall, the Archbishop of York, +the Bishop of Winchester, the Bishop of +Lincoln, Henry de Wernham, his chaplain, +who also had the custody of the Great +Seal, the Earl of Norfolk, the Earl of Hereford +and a number of other nobles of the +realm; but the Queen kept her state apart.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>The King’s great chamber was marvellous +to behold. There were twenty-five +wax-lights held by esquires of the household, +all in the King’s livery, gentils as they +were; also twenty-five wax torches were +fixed high up over the tapestry. The walls +were, that night, gorgeous with the story +of Troy-town in ancient tapestries; there +you might see the flames burning and the +towers falling, and old King Priam, with +beard as white as snow, his crown upon his +head, and his Queen Hecuba tearing her +dishevelled locks for grief. And there was +that renowned son, who carried off his +aged father, with his little child holding +by his garment, and his wife following, all +disconsolate. This was a piteous sight to +see pourtrayed; but that it were nothing +save a heathen story.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The floor of that chamber was not +strewed either with rushes or with litter of +any sort, but was laid in little checquers +<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>of divers colours; and, where his Highness +sat, under his cloth of state, was spread a +silken carpet of full crimson, fringed about +with gold, as likewise his chair and canopy +of estate. But the finest sight was the cupboards, +piled up with plates and cups +of gold and silver, in readiness for the +King, when he should take his <span class='fss'>VOIDE</span>. +These were in that great Oriel, which his +Highness had newly made in this chamber, +before the bay; and which was closed +about with painted glass from the highest +cup-board to the arched roof, where hung +a silver lamp, that made the whole glow +with its light.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were, that night, playing in the +chamber, the King’s twelve minstrels, all +clothed, for his honour and dignity, in +sumptuous livery, with their virger to +order their pipyngs and blowings. There +were, besides, the children of the chapel +singing, at times, from the brown gallery; +so that, the doors being open, you might +<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>have heard them through all that side of +the castle; and those, who sat afar off in +the great hall, needed none other music.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There also was Maister Henry, the versifier, +whose ballad of the Giant of Cornwall +was this night rehearsed to the harp +by Richard, the King’s harper, as was his +famous Chronicle of Charlemagne, which +lasted, till his Highness was well nigh +weary, when he jocularly called out, having +tasted of his golden cup, that Henry +should have a butt of wine with his wages, +if he would shorten his ballads by one-half. +Maister Henry, who was a Frenchman, +took this in good part, and, having especial +care ever after to make his ballads nigher +to too short than too long, became, in time, +a notable rhymer. But let those do so who +can. Some are famous one way, some +another; for mine own part, I must be +circumstantial, or else nothing, as this +“Trew Chronique” in due time must show.</p> + +<p class='c012'>That night, the King played at “Checkere” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>with the Earl of Norfolk, on a board +laid with jasper and chrystal, the check-men +being of the same. Some said the +king’s and queens were of ebony, studded +over with jewels, but of this I know not.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But, the finest sight of all was the going +of the chamberlain to the cup-board, accompanied +of three nobles of the highest +estate in the realm, that were there present, +(save the King’s family) to receive the +King’s cup and spice-plates; and then the +bringing up of the voide before his Highness. +And, first, the usher, having assembled +the King’s sewers, their towels about +their necks, with the four esquires of the +body and the knights and esquires of the +household, to the number of seventeen; +these, with divers other officers, being met +at the cup-board, the Chamberlain took +the King’s towel, and, having kissed it, as +the custom is, delivered it to the Earl of +Norfolk, he being of the highest estate, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>who reverently received the same, and laid +it safely upon his shoulder. Then, the said +chamberlain gave the gold spice-plates covered +to the Earl of Hereford; and then +the King’s cup of massive gold, covered +also, to the Earl of Warwick. At the +same time were given to the knights of +the household the Archbishop’s spice-plate +and cup, covered also, to be carried +up, by the space of one minute after the +King’s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And, certes, it was a goodly sight to see +all these nobles and gentils marching up +the great chamber (the minstrels playing +the while), compassed about with esquires, +bearing great lights to the number +of thirteen, especial care being taken, as +the manner all times has been at the voide, +that the lights were odd in number.</p> + +<p class='c012'>First, then, went the usher, with his +torch and rod, making passage; the +chamberlain, with his chain and wand of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>office; then the five esquires, of the body, +bearing wax-lights before the Earl of Norfolk, +with the towel; then, three esquires +about the Lord of Hereford, bearing the +spice-plates; then, other three before the +Lord Warwick, bearing the King’s cup covered; +then followed one knight of the +household, bearing a single torch; so +making up altogether the just number of +lights. Amongst them went four knights +of the household, well renowned for bravery +and noble bearing, with the Archbishop’s +spice-plate and cup.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When this array drew near to the King, +he, standing up under his cloth of estate, +which was rolled up high, with the young +Prince Edward on one hand and the +Archbishop on the other, the Chamberlain +taking the covers from off the spice-plates, +gave assaye unto the Earl of Gloucester. +The King, before he took his spice, made +a beck to the Archbishop, that he should +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>take his first; and the knights having +advanced, as they well knew would be +seemly, the Archbishop forthwith obeyed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But, when the Chamberlain uncovered +the cup, all the minstrels in the chamber +blew up louder than ever, and so held on +till his Highness took the ypocras, so that +every roof in the castle rung with joy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King and Archbishop being served, +his Highness’s cup and spice-plates were +again covered, but not so the Archbishop’s. +Then were the spice and cup carried to +Prince Edward and the Earl of Cornwall, +by the knights; to the bishops by the +esquires of the household, and to the other +estates by the esquires also. Which being +done, his Highness forthwith departed for +“all night,” the trumpets blowing before +him. Then, were three healths drank, one +to the King, one to the Queen, and one +to the Prince Edward; after which it +were not meet, that the assemblage should +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>remain, and straight the great chamber +was avoyded of all there present.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Queen, that night, sat in her bower +with all her ladies. There were mynstrelsy +and dancing to the harp and viol. The +Lady Barbara was the marveil of all, that +beheld her moving to the sound of viols +like unto some sprite, rather than to a poor +mortal. Prince Edward danced with her +a round, and the Queen often honoured +her with her pleasing speech. Sir Gaston, +though he beheld her, showed not his +wonted joy. He stood apart looking on, +and, when her Highness spoke to him, he +seemed nigh to senseless of the honour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The dancing being ended, Pierre, a +Norman and the Queen’s chief minstrel, +apparelled in the guise of his country, +sang some of his ballads on the harp, in +his own tongue, which, albeit, they were +not esteemed like unto Maister Henry’s, +yet did they not displease. The first tuning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>was in words which have been thus rendered +into English by one, who had +learned much of the new speech, not then +familiar, except with some few.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in14'>THE BRIDAL.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Lightly, lightly, bounded the roe,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The hind o’er the forest was fleeing;</div> + <div class='line'>The small birds tuned on every bough,</div> + <div class='line in2'>In sun and shade their gleeing.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>And purple cups, and silver bells</div> + <div class='line in2'>From the green leaves were peeping;</div> + <div class='line'>The wild-rose smiled in the mossy dells:</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nought but the thorn was weeping.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>And so bright in the sun its tears did shine,</div> + <div class='line in2'>They showed like tears of pleasure;</div> + <div class='line'>And the airs of May, through the budding spray,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Breathed joyance, without measure.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>For this was Isabel’s bridal morn</div> + <div class='line in2'>Who loved each bud and flower,</div> + <div class='line'>The wild-wood shade, the mountain head,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The deep vale’s mead and bower.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>And now was her festival gaily kept</div> + <div class='line in2'>By hagled brook and fountain,</div> + <div class='line'>From the low green bank, where the violet slept,</div> + <div class='line in2'>To the blue hill-top and mountain.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>And lightly, lightly, bounded the roe,</div> + <div class='line in2'>His footstep wing’d with pleasure,</div> + <div class='line'>And small birds sang from every bough,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Welcomes beyond all measure.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>At the end of this ballad, the minstrel +rang out his harp in full joyance; and +then, falling note by note, he dropped into +a faltering murmur, as of deep sorrow, +and so continued for some space, till those +who heard him, perceived the witch of melancholy +stealing upon them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Queen, deeming such strain unsuitable +to the time, commanded him to change +the measure, and sound forth one more +gay, a lay of Provence, her native land, +whither she knew he had been for his +learning; but he, enthralled by the magic +<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>of his own mood, loving not to be commanded, +still hung his head over the harp, +listening to that pleasure-full melancholy +and heeding nothing but its sweet sound.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At last, being made to know fully +her Highness’s will, he sang the song of +a Troubadour; for, though he loved best +the ditties of Normandy, his own land, +there was scarce one of Provence, which +he had not gained; and the Queen did +not let him forget them, so often did +she command those, which she affected +best. And now he sang forth to +his harp a “roundel” in the Provençal +tongue, made by a knight of the “Order +of Fine Eyes.” They, who then heard +him, would have thought he loved any +thing less than melancholy, so light and +debonnaire was the music he rang out; +and many could hardly keep their steps +from dancing to that gallant measure. +But it lasted not long; for, making a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>pause and looking wistfully at the Lady +Barbara, he struck forth, on a sudden, +some of his deepest tones, with a wild yet +solemn grace, such as brought tears into +the eyes of many a fair lady, and darted +dread into the heart of one there present. +It seemed as if the shadows of prophecy +were moving over the strings, and calling +from them some strange and fearful story +yet to be. And then again did the harper’s +voice steal trembling forth, as do the +moon’s beams, when pale clouds pass over, +saddening, but not fully obscuring their +brightness: yet might every one hear plainly +all his words. Here it is done into +English by the same hand; but the verses +be not all divided into equal numbers:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20'>I.</div> + <div class='line'>O’er the high western wolds afar,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Glimmer’d some lights of yesterday;</div> + <div class='line'>And there, one bright, but trembling star</div> + <div class='line in2'>Among the streaky shadows lay,</div> + <div class='line in4'><span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>The traveller’s lonely warning.</div> + <div class='line'>But soon the winds, that sing day’s dirge,</div> + <div class='line'>Did o’er that star the shadows urge,</div> + <div class='line in4'>And hung the night with mourning!</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>II.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“What steps on the waste are beating?”</div> + <div class='line in2'>He listened not long on the ground,</div> + <div class='line in2'>’Ere he fearfully heard a sound,</div> + <div class='line'>As of trampling hoofs retreating:</div> + <div class='line'>And a dismal cry and a foot draw nigh;</div> + <div class='line'>“Stand ho!” ’twas an armed man passed by:</div> + <div class='line in2'>But he spoke no sound of greeting,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And seemed like a death-shade fleeting.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>III.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>O’er the lone mountains riding,</div> + <div class='line in2'>He gallop’d by gloomsome ways,</div> + <div class='line'>Where night-mists were abiding,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Round the witch of evil days:</div> + <div class='line'>Her name is written on the wind,</div> + <div class='line'>That speaks in cliffs and caves confin’d.</div> + <div class='line in2'>List there when the waning moon goes down,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And thou’lt hear the call her spirits own;</div> + <div class='line in4'>But as they pass, hold a chrystal glass,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Or thou’lt sorely rue the wild witch-tone.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>IV.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>O’er the lone mountains riding,</div> + <div class='line in2'>From a distant land he came,</div> + <div class='line'>No step his dark step guiding;</div> + <div class='line in2'>But he thought he saw a flame,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That bright, or dim, would sport awhile;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Then vanish, as in very guile;</div> + <div class='line'>He heard, as he passed, the witch-name sound;</div> + <div class='line'>And his startled steed, at a single bound,</div> + <div class='line'>Bore him away from that evil ground.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>V.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>But o’er the mountains pacing</div> + <div class='line in2'>As fast as he can flee,</div> + <div class='line'>Strange steps his steps are tracing,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And a shape he cannot see;</div> + <div class='line'>And, though he flee away, so prest,</div> + <div class='line'>Whether to north, or south or west,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Toward the past, or coming day,</div> + <div class='line in2'>(So dim the night he may not say)</div> + <div class='line'>Still oft by fits did ghastly gleam,</div> + <div class='line'>A corpse-light, all unknown to him.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>VI.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>He followed the light o’er deserts wide,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Down in deep glens, where wild becks wail;</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>He followed by darkened forest side;</div> + <div class='line in2'>He followed with dread, though link’d in mail;</div> + <div class='line'>Till it stayed before an iron gate,</div> + <div class='line'>Where battled turrets kept their state,</div> + <div class='line in2'>O’er towers so high and massy strong,</div> + <div class='line in2'>They seemed to giant-king belong.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>VII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Sir Adomar looked him all around:</div> + <div class='line in2'>Turret on turret hung on high,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Shaping black lines on the dim sky;</div> + <div class='line'>Sir Adomar looked him all around;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nought, save this castle, could he spy,</div> + <div class='line'>Though, heavily clanged a death-bell’s sound;</div> + <div class='line in2'>And in each pause of the shuddering blast,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Moans were heard as of one from ’neath the ground!</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>VIII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>He struck on the gate with his good sword:</div> + <div class='line'>“Ho! wardour, ho!” but never a word</div> + <div class='line'>Return’d the wardour from within.</div> + <div class='line in2'>“The storm is loud, the night is dark,</div> + <div class='line in2'>I hear from the woods the dog-wolf bark.</div> + <div class='line'>Up, wardour, up! it were a sin</div> + <div class='line in2'>To turn a traveller from your tower,</div> + <div class='line in2'>At such a lone and dreary hour;</div> + <div class='line'>A Saracen would let me in!”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>IX.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The wardour was watching through the loop,</div> + <div class='line'>How many were of the stranger’s troop.</div> + <div class='line in2'>He had left his torch in the cullis’ bar,</div> + <div class='line'>And it let down a light on the lonely night,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That showed him harnessed, as for war.</div> + <div class='line'>His coat was mail, his helm was steel;</div> + <div class='line'>His visor did his look reveal;</div> + <div class='line'>Yet o’er his brow it cast a shade,</div> + <div class='line'>That made the wardour more afraid,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Than did the crimsoned plume above,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Or the mighty grasp of his iron glove.</div> + <div class='line'>He would not let the stranger in,</div> + <div class='line'>Till one, awakened by the din—</div> + <div class='line'>One whom the wardour need obey—</div> + <div class='line in2'>Seeing a lonely knight stand there,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Bade the wardour nought to fear:</div> + <div class='line'>He feared still, but he said not Nay:</div> + <div class='line'>Yet he would not ope the portal gate</div> + <div class='line'>To an unknown knight, without his state;</div> + <div class='line in2'>For neither squire, nor page, he saw:</div> + <div class='line in2'>He bade him then to the postern draw.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>X.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The knight dismounted at the call;</div> + <div class='line'>The porter let him through the wall;</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>He turned the weary steed to stall,</div> + <div class='line'>And led the knight to the lordly hall.</div> + <div class='line'>I’ the lordly hall, so wide and dim,</div> + <div class='line'>One drowsy squire awaited him.</div> + <div class='line'>The ashy wood lay, white and cold,</div> + <div class='line'>On the raised hearth, where late was told,</div> + <div class='line'>With fiery eye and accent loud,</div> + <div class='line'>The deed of martial prowess proud;</div> + <div class='line'>Where late was told, in whispers low,</div> + <div class='line'>Some tale of terror and of woe,</div> + <div class='line'>The while each listener bent his head,</div> + <div class='line'>Nor lost a word the trouveur said:</div> + <div class='line'>Till fear crept o’er each nerve and vein,</div> + <div class='line'>That late had swell’d to martial strain;</div> + <div class='line'>And shadows crept along the wall,</div> + <div class='line'>Such as the sinful soul appal:</div> + <div class='line'>Till each, who heard, look’d round with dread,</div> + <div class='line'>And saw some phantom of the dead.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XI.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Now silent was the hearth and lone,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Save that a stag-hound slumber’d there.</div> + <div class='line in2'>The tables in disorder were,</div> + <div class='line in2'>With relics of the evening fare;</div> + <div class='line'>The household to their rest were gone,</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>And now no light was seen but one,</div> + <div class='line'>The light that led the stranger on;</div> + <div class='line'>That show’d above steel armour gleaming,</div> + <div class='line'>And many a dusky banner streaming,</div> + <div class='line in2'>From the black rafters of the roof,</div> + <div class='line in2'>In the night-wind, far aloof,</div> + <div class='line'>Like to some flitting phantom seeming;</div> + <div class='line in2'>And, stalking o’er the rushy floor,</div> + <div class='line in2'>It showed the knight where steps of gore</div> + <div class='line'>Had stain’d its green, with foot-prints red.</div> + <div class='line'>And the stag-hound, as the knight passed by,</div> + <div class='line'>Sent forth a mournful fearful cry.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The drowsy squire the stranger led;</div> + <div class='line'>(The wardour to his post was sped.)</div> + <div class='line'>They traversed the hall in silent march:</div> + <div class='line'>At the end was a door in a mitred arch.</div> + <div class='line'>The knight stood before that mitred door,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And gazed on a warrior shape above,</div> + <div class='line'>That seem’d to watch the passage o’er.</div> + <div class='line in2'>In his altered look strange passions strove!</div> + <div class='line'>The armoured shape leaned on its sword,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And downward bent its steely face,</div> + <div class='line in2'>As jealous who below might pace,</div> + <div class='line'>Or about to speak the challenge-word;</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>And it seemed the very form of one,</div> + <div class='line'>The knight perforce must look upon.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XIII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Thus, while he stood in wonder-trance,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The squire upheld the torch on high,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Viewing the guest with watchful eye;</div> + <div class='line'>And marvelling what strange mischance</div> + <div class='line'>So check’d his step, and fix’d his glance:—</div> + <div class='line'>“Sir knight, why gaze you on that steel?</div> + <div class='line in2'>It is a baron’s good and bold;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Had he been here, no welcome cold</div> + <div class='line'>Would he have shown a stranger-knight,</div> + <div class='line'>Who trusted to his towers at night.”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XIV.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The spell of fant’sie loos’d awhile,</div> + <div class='line'>The knight return’d a grateful smile,</div> + <div class='line'>With thanks for this so courteous style;</div> + <div class='line'>And, then with thoughtful accent said,</div> + <div class='line in2'>While yet he stood, that shape before,</div> + <div class='line'>“The armour some resemblance had</div> + <div class='line in2'>To that of a dear friend no more!</div> + <div class='line'>A friend!”—he paus’d,—“a friend long dead!”</div> + <div class='line'>This, while he said, his colour fled.</div> + <div class='line'>The squire seem’d not to note his pain,</div> + <div class='line'>But, with fair speech, began again</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>Excuse to make for slender fare,</div> + <div class='line'>That it was night, and, not aware</div> + <div class='line'>Of honour’d guest approaching there,</div> + <div class='line'>The menials to their rest had gone;</div> + <div class='line'>A chamber should be fitted soon.</div> + <div class='line'>His squire and page should welcom’d be;</div> + <div class='line'>Right well he longed that squire to see.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XV.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The wearied knight a gesture made,</div> + <div class='line'>And looked his thanks, but nothing said;</div> + <div class='line'>Save that, for rest alone he prayed.</div> + <div class='line'>He sighed, as through that guarded arch,</div> + <div class='line'>And vaulted gloom, he held his march;</div> + <div class='line'>And there, before his doubting sight,</div> + <div class='line'>Glided again a pale sad light,</div> + <div class='line'>Full often he had seen with fear,</div> + <div class='line'>Yet more he felt to meet it here.</div> + <div class='line'>Then came they to an iron door,</div> + <div class='line'>And the knight beheld that flame no more.</div> + <div class='line'>It opened to a second hall,</div> + <div class='line'>Where warriors frowned upon the wall;</div> + <div class='line'>And ladies smiled in portraiture,</div> + <div class='line'>With downcast eye and look demure.</div> + <div class='line'>An umbered flash the red torch threw,</div> + <div class='line'>Athwart each warrior’s steadfast brow;</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>And hardly might the gleam declare</div> + <div class='line'>A baron grim from lady fair.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XVI.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>There is no need that I should tell,</div> + <div class='line in2'>What hasty fare the stranger took;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nor how the squire, with silent look,</div> + <div class='line'>Watched, wondering, what had him befell;</div> + <div class='line'>So strangely gleamed his hollow eyes,</div> + <div class='line in2'>From forth the lifted beaver’s shade</div> + <div class='line'>So wan his lips, like one that dies,</div> + <div class='line in2'>So few the words and thanks he paid!</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XVII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Though round the hall his looks would steal,</div> + <div class='line'>Not well did torch or lamp reveal</div> + <div class='line'>The portraiture of warriors grim,</div> + <div class='line'>Or noble dames hung there so dim;</div> + <div class='line'>Their frowns and smiles were lost to him.</div> + <div class='line'>But once, when that he turned his head</div> + <div class='line'>Where the fix’d torch a gleaming shed,</div> + <div class='line'>A sable form, ill seen at most,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Went gliding up a stair, on high,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Passed through an open gallery,</div> + <div class='line'>And through a door-way there was lost,</div> + <div class='line'>That seemed to lead to antient rooms,</div> + <div class='line'>Such as where silence dwells, and glooms.</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>The knight, he felt a sudden chill,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Though nought he said of what had sped;</div> + <div class='line in2'>But the spicy draught he deeply quaff’d,</div> + <div class='line'>Whenever the page his cup did fill.</div> + <div class='line'>And from his spirits chaced the ill.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XVIII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The night-cheer o’er, the page led on</div> + <div class='line in2'>The stranger to his resting-place.</div> + <div class='line'>He led the way, that form had gone:</div> + <div class='line in2'>On the high stair he stood a space,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Waiting the knight’s reluctant pace,</div> + <div class='line'>Then, with mute reverence, marshalled him</div> + <div class='line'>Through many a gallery, long and dim,</div> + <div class='line'>Where helmets watched, in order grim;</div> + <div class='line'>Through many a chamber, wide and lorn,</div> + <div class='line'>Where wint’ry damps had half withdrawn</div> + <div class='line'>The storied paintings on the wall.</div> + <div class='line'>Electra, o’er her brother’s urn,</div> + <div class='line'>There bent the head, and seemed to mourn;</div> + <div class='line'>There, too, as meet in room and hall,</div> + <div class='line'>Troy’s tale<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c014'><sup>[2]</sup></a> and Hector’s piteous fall:</div> + <div class='line'>Here Priam’s Court, in purple and pall,</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>Its golden splendour now had lost;</div> + <div class='line in2'>But Helen, on the rampart stood,</div> + <div class='line'>And pointed to the Grecian host,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Out-stretching to the briny flood.</div> + <div class='line'>Here Hector’s wife sat in her bower,</div> + <div class='line'>Waiting her lord’s returning hour;</div> + <div class='line'>And ‘broidering ’midst her maiden train,</div> + <div class='line'>While her infant played with silken skein.</div> + <div class='line'>There—but it boots not that I say,</div> + <div class='line'>What stories once, in long array,</div> + <div class='line'>Lived on those walls, now ghastly clay.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='footnote' id='f2'> +<p class='c012'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. The “Tale of Troy” appears to have been a very favourite +subject in ancient tapestry. It occurs often in old +castles, and is mentioned twice in this “Trew Chronique,” +as adorning the walls of stately chambers.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>XIX.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The knight would oft, as he strode by,</div> + <div class='line'>Cast on their shade a searching eye;</div> + <div class='line'>And pause, as list’ning some drear sound,</div> + <div class='line'>That rose within the glimmering bound:</div> + <div class='line'>And start, as though some fearful sight</div> + <div class='line'>Passed along this gloom of night;</div> + <div class='line'>But, at a lesser winding stair,</div> + <div class='line'>(The long drawn chambers ended there,)</div> + <div class='line'>When to that narrow stair he drew,</div> + <div class='line'>He thought a robe of mourning hue</div> + <div class='line'>Went fleeting up that winding way;</div> + <div class='line'>No glimpse had he of shape or ray;</div> + <div class='line'>No foot he heard the stair ascend.</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>Yet still that seeming garment passed,</div> + <div class='line'>As though some fiend, with evil haste,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Did up that lonely tower wend.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XX.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The knight, he stood on the step below—</div> + <div class='line'>“Whither, my young page, dost thou go?</div> + <div class='line in2'>Who dwells within this lonely tower,</div> + <div class='line'>Passing with speed, in sable weed—</div> + <div class='line in2'>Passing with speed, at this dead hour?”</div> + <div class='line'>“Nobody, save the raven-crow,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Dwells within this lonely tower;</div> + <div class='line in2'>And here, Sir knight, is your resting-bower!”</div> + <div class='line'>“But in this tower I may not rest,</div> + <div class='line'>Till I know who that stair has pressed;</div> + <div class='line'>Did you not see that black weed wave?”</div> + <div class='line in2'>“Yes, knight, I saw the raven’s wing,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Glint up that wall with sudden spring:</div> + <div class='line'>And hark! you now may hear him crave!”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXI.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“It is not courteous, that my bower</div> + <div class='line'>Should be within this ruin’d tower!”</div> + <div class='line'>“But see, knight, ’tis not in decay;</div> + <div class='line'>The storm hath blown a bar away,</div> + <div class='line'>And the raven through the loop doth stray;</div> + <div class='line'>His nest is wet on the battlement grey:</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Your chamber is a stately room,</div> + <div class='line'>Hung round with work of choicest loom;</div> + <div class='line'>And erst it was the resting-place</div> + <div class='line'>Of our dear Lady Baroness,</div> + <div class='line'>Before she went to stranger-land.</div> + <div class='line'>My lord yet strays on foreign strand.</div> + <div class='line'>The chamber has another stair,</div> + <div class='line'>Leading to many chambers fair;</div> + <div class='line'>But no step goes by night so far,</div> + <div class='line'>Since my lord baron went to war.”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The page stept on with torch before,</div> + <div class='line'>Far as that stately chamber’s door.</div> + <div class='line'>“Page! lift that light—fain would I know,</div> + <div class='line'>Whither that second flight doth go?”</div> + <div class='line'>“It goes to a battlement up on high,</div> + <div class='line'>And to a turret perching by.”</div> + <div class='line'>“Doth none keep watch on that turret high?”</div> + <div class='line'>“None, but the raven with his cry!</div> + <div class='line'>Your rest, Sir knight, he will not break;</div> + <div class='line'>To traitors only doth he speak.</div> + <div class='line'>They say he scents the new spilt blood.”</div> + <div class='line'>Upon the stair the raven stood!</div> + <div class='line'>He turn’d his dark eye on the knight,</div> + <div class='line'>And, screaming, upward winged his flight.</div> + <div class='line'>The wondering page looked back with fright,</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>And met the stranger’s fiery glance;</div> + <div class='line'>Then, hardly daring to advance,</div> + <div class='line'>Lingered he at that chamber-door;</div> + <div class='line'>“On,” said the knight, “with torch before!”</div> + <div class='line'>Scarce was the page the threshhold o’er,</div> + <div class='line'>When check he made, and pale he turn’d;</div> + <div class='line'>Dim and more dim the torch-flame burn’d.</div> + <div class='line'>The knight look’d on, but nothing saw,</div> + <div class='line'>That might explain this sudden awe.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXIII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>A spacious chamber there was spread,</div> + <div class='line'>And, for his rest, a stately bed;</div> + <div class='line'>Fresh rushes on the floor were strewn;</div> + <div class='line'>Faint on the arras’d walls were shown</div> + <div class='line'>The heroes of some antient story,</div> + <div class='line'>Now faded, like their mortal glory.</div> + <div class='line'>Another form, as dark as doom,</div> + <div class='line'>Stood within that chamber’s gloom,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Unseen by those who entered there.</div> + <div class='line'>His cause of dread the page thus said:</div> + <div class='line in2'>“Methought I saw, within that chair,</div> + <div class='line'>The baron’s self, my very lord;</div> + <div class='line'>I saw it, on a true man’s word:</div> + <div class='line'>I saw my lord return’d from far,</div> + <div class='line'>Arrayed, as he went forth to war!</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>He fixed his very eyes on me,</div> + <div class='line in2'>But looked not, as he wont to look.</div> + <div class='line'>Yet now no living shape I see,</div> + <div class='line'>And know that here he could not be;</div> + <div class='line in2'>For, long since, he these walls forsook:</div> + <div class='line'>Yet is it strange such visions pale,</div> + <div class='line'>Should o’er my waking sight prevail.”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXIV.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Whose are these antient walls, I pray?”</div> + <div class='line'>The sullen stranger ’gan to say:</div> + <div class='line'>“Sir, know you not these towers and halls</div> + <div class='line'>Watch where the foaming Conway falls?</div> + <div class='line'>Who should these walls and towers own?</div> + <div class='line'>And the wide woods and forest round,</div> + <div class='line'>Even to Snowdon’s utmost bound,</div> + <div class='line'>Save the brave lord of Eglamore?”</div> + <div class='line'>The knight explained his ignorance,</div> + <div class='line'>He was a wanderer late from France.</div> + <div class='line'>The page surveyed him o’er again;</div> + <div class='line'>He thought the wily knight did feign:</div> + <div class='line'>A deadly hue was on his cheek;</div> + <div class='line'>His looks spoke more than words may speak.</div> + <div class='line'>Yet to the page, though much it told,</div> + <div class='line'>He read not all it might unfold.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>XXV.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The knight perceived his doubting thought,</div> + <div class='line'>And drew a badge forth from his breast;</div> + <div class='line'>Some noble Order’s golden crest,</div> + <div class='line'>Upon a field of silver wrought.</div> + <div class='line'>“This badge,” he said, “with blood was bought.”</div> + <div class='line'>He turn’d with haughty frown away.</div> + <div class='line'>The page did not more doubt betray;</div> + <div class='line'>But service offered to undo</div> + <div class='line'>His casque and linked harness true;</div> + <div class='line'>But the stranger gravely said him Nay,</div> + <div class='line'>And refused that night to disarray.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXVI.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Wondering, yet fearing to demand,</div> + <div class='line'>Why to these towers from distant land,</div> + <div class='line'>The knight had come, without his train,</div> + <div class='line'>Pondered the youth his doubts again;</div> + <div class='line'>Again, as though his thoughts he read,</div> + <div class='line'>The knight look’d sternly down and said,</div> + <div class='line'>“My squire and my foot-page I missed</div> + <div class='line'>At night-fall, when the woods betwixt.</div> + <div class='line'>But they perchance may shelter find,</div> + <div class='line'>From this bitter-blowing wind,</div> + <div class='line'>In the deep hollow of some hill,</div> + <div class='line'>Till the dawn break, and the storm be still.”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'><span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>XXVII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“But the wolf bays in the blast afar;</div> + <div class='line'>Sir knight, how may they scape such war?</div> + <div class='line'>I hear him now—he nearer howls!</div> + <div class='line'>Mercy! mercy! save their souls!”</div> + <div class='line'>“Hark!” said the knight, and stood aghast;</div> + <div class='line'>It was no wolf-howl in the blast;</div> + <div class='line'>It was a blood-hound’s dreadful bay,</div> + <div class='line'>The stranger heard, with such dismay—</div> + <div class='line'>The blood-hound at the tower below;</div> + <div class='line in2'>That over pathless hill and dale,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Had tracked a murderer in the gale,</div> + <div class='line'>And came to claim his master’s foe.</div> + <div class='line'>While listening to the lengthen’d yell,</div> + <div class='line'>The stranger seemed to hear his knell.</div> + <div class='line'>“A blood-hound loose, and at this hour!</div> + <div class='line in2'>Your rest, sir knight, had ill been kept;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nor one within these gates had slept,</div> + <div class='line'>Had I been in my distant tower.”</div> + <div class='line'>The page he lighted a lamp on high;</div> + <div class='line'>The stranger stifled scarce a sigh,</div> + <div class='line'>That heavily for utterance pressed.</div> + <div class='line'>He heard the page’s steps descend,</div> + <div class='line'>And go where the long chambers bend,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Down to the halls, and th’ outer walls.</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>The page knew not the chance he ran;</div> + <div class='line'>He was marked with the blood of a murder’d man!</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXVIII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The knight, he listened in silent dread,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Till now, the blood-hound’s voice was stilled;</div> + <div class='line'>But soon a low voice near him sped,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That every nerve with horror thrilled.</div> + <div class='line'>He looked the way that lone voice came,</div> + <div class='line'>And saw, by the lamp’s tall spiring flame,</div> + <div class='line'>A portraiture on the wall beneath,</div> + <div class='line'>Of noble dame, that seemed to breathe.</div> + <div class='line'>Robed in sable weeds was she:</div> + <div class='line in2'>The gleam fell on that lady’s brow;</div> + <div class='line'>There, written dimly, you might see,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The characters of hopeless woe.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXIX.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Soon as that lady’s face he saw,</div> + <div class='line in2'>All other dread his heart forsook;</div> + <div class='line'>He gazed with fixt and frenzied awe,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And vainly tried away to look:</div> + <div class='line'>For to his fearful sight it seemed,</div> + <div class='line in2'>As though her eyes on his were bent;</div> + <div class='line'>And, where the pale flame wavering gleamed,</div> + <div class='line in2'>As if her varying cheek were blent</div> + <div class='line in2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>With lights and shades of death;</div> + <div class='line'>While round her lips a grim smile drew,</div> + <div class='line'>And the rose paled that on them blew;</div> + <div class='line in2'>And, with faint lingering breath,</div> + <div class='line'>“Prepare,” she said, “thy hour is nigh!</div> + <div class='line'>Unpitying, thou hast seen me die;</div> + <div class='line'>Unpitied be thy mortal sigh!”</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXX.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>He heard the words—the words alone;</div> + <div class='line'>He heard not that deep solemn groan;</div> + <div class='line'>He heard not the clang of the ‘larum bell,</div> + <div class='line'>Nor from the gates that horn-blast swell;</div> + <div class='line'>Nor heard the many-trampling hoofs,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nor voices calling in the gale,</div> + <div class='line'>And ringing round the castle roofs,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Till they made the ’battled raven quail;</div> + <div class='line'>Nor heard the funeral shriek, that broke</div> + <div class='line'>Through every hall and lofty tower;</div> + <div class='line'>He heard alone the words she spoke.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXXI.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Nor saw he in the court below,</div> + <div class='line'>By the torches’ umbered glow,</div> + <div class='line'>Borne upon his bleeding bier,</div> + <div class='line in2'>With wounds unclosed and open eyes,</div> + <div class='line'>A warrior stretched in death draw near;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nor heard the loud and louder cries,</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>This piteous sight of horror drew</div> + <div class='line'>From every friend and vassal true.</div> + <div class='line'>But he knew that voice at his chamber-door,</div> + <div class='line'>And straight the witch-veil of glamour</div> + <div class='line'>Falls, and his wonder-trance is o’er.</div> + <div class='line'>He hears his summons in that sound;</div> + <div class='line'>It is the bark of the true blood-hound.</div> + <div class='line'>True to his murdered lord is he;</div> + <div class='line'>He has traced the steps he could not see—</div> + <div class='line'>Traced them o’er darkened miles and miles,</div> + <div class='line'>O’er glen and mountain, wood and moor,</div> + <div class='line'>Through all their swift and winding wiles,</div> + <div class='line'>Till he stopped before his master’s door,</div> + <div class='line'>And bayed the murderer in his bower.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in20 c004'>XXXII.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The castle gates were strait unbarred,</div> + <div class='line'>And he sprang before his bleeding lord;</div> + <div class='line'>He passed the page unheeded by,</div> + <div class='line'>And tracked the stranger’s steps on high;</div> + <div class='line'>Till at the door, that closed him in,</div> + <div class='line'>Loud and dread became his din.</div> + <div class='line'>The doors are burst, and the spectre-light</div> + <div class='line'>Betrayeth the form of the blood-tracked knight:</div> + <div class='line'>He was armed all over in coat of mail,</div> + <div class='line'>But nothing did steel that night avail;</div> + <div class='line'>He fell a torn corpse, beside that chair,</div> + <div class='line'>Whereunto the page did late appear,</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>By the dark glamour-art revealed,</div> + <div class='line'>His murdered lord with lance and shield.</div> + <div class='line'>The <i>murderer</i> fell, and his death-wound found</div> + <div class='line'>In the terrible fangs of the true blood-hound.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class='c018'> + +<p class='c012'>Here the voice of the minstrel ceased; +and, after striking a few notes of his harp, +full and deep, he rested with a look of +sorrow. His eyes dwelt on the Lady +Barbara—but she heeded him not; but +sat with head inclined, as if still listening +to his dismal tale. There followed a dread +silence in the room, as of expectation of +that which was to follow. Some there +were, who said the ditty was already +ended; yet they would fain have heard +something of the pitiful history of that unhappy +lady, whose portraiture was in the +tower-chamber, and would have known +what was the guilty motive of the knight +against the Lord of Eglamore; and how +it chanced he came so unwittingly to his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>castle. Others there were then present, +who, having noticed the young Gaston +de Blondeville to be ill at ease, the +while the minstrel sung, and being, perchance, +already moved by the merchant’s +strange accusation, scrupled not to think +the story touched him nearly; and that +Pierre rested, not because his ditty was +at an end, or from weariness; but that +he doubted whether it would be well to +proceed to the second part.</p> + +<p class='c012'>However this may be, he needed not +have stayed his strain, for Sir Gaston was +no longer in the chamber. Whether +Pierre knew this or not, he began once +more to strike upon the harp; when, on +a sudden, the king’s trumpets were heard +blowing up near the stair; and anon, his +Highness entered the bower, it being almost +time that he should go to his rest +for “all-night.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was no more harping; Pierre +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>tuning not up his second fit; and belike, +if his Highness had been there at first, +he would have bidden him to shorten +his ballad by one-half.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The King looked about for Sir Gaston; +and, espying him not, asked wherefore he +was not there; but, before any answer +could be given, the knight had returned, +and now approached his Highness. He +was then commanded to dance a round +with the Lady Barbara, and he obeyed; +but many there noted the sadness on his +brow, though his steps were light and +gay.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A more pleasureful sight could not be +than the Queen’s bower, as it was at that +time, where she sat in estate, under a +cloth of gold, her ladies standing about +her chair, and her maidens on either hand, +below the steps of her throne; and two +young damsels of surpassing beauty and +richly bedight, sitting on the first step, at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>her feet; the same, that were used so to +sit, when her Highness kept state in the +great hall at festivals.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Behind them, half encircling the throne, +stood twenty household esquires, holding +great wax torches, right richly beseen in +the king’s livery, and proud to wear it, +gentils as they were, as I said before, and +of ancient families in the countries from +whence they came.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The arched roof was curiously wrought +in that fashion, which King Henry had +newly brought into favour; and, besides +these lights, a great crystal lamp, that +hung from the roof, shone over the chamber +and upon the goodly assemblage, as +they looked upon the Lady Barbara, +passing so winningly in the dance. That +night, the Earl of Richmond bore the +Queen’s spice-plate, and Sir Philip de Kinton +her cup.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When the Lady Barbara had ended +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>her dance, the Queen called her to her +chair; and, making her take of the sweetmeats +from her own plate, spoke commendable +words to her, as did his Highness +King Henry. Then the Queen, turning +to the Lady Gloucester, took from her +hands a girdle, richly beset with jewels, +and, clasping it on the Lady Barbara, +kissed her, and bade her wear it ever, for +her sake and for her honour. Her Highness +then stretched out her hand to Sir +Gaston, who, kneeling, put it to his lips. +“May you, Sir knight,” said her Highness, +“as well deserve this lady, as she +deserves this token of my regard!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then, the King said many gracious +things, and seemed so merry of heart, +that he made all around him gladsome; +till, the Voide being ended, he went forth +with the Queen, the trumpets blowing +before them; and the chamber was then +speedily avoided for all night.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>While these things were passing in the +chambers of estate, there were divers +wassailings and merriments making in +other places of the castle. In the great +hall were feasting and revelling, but not +of estate. There were tumblers and jugglers +and morrice-dancers and mimicks +and mummers, with pipings and blowings, +that made the roofs ring.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The monks at the priory heard them +afar, while at the last even-song, and long +after; and well I wote, that had it not +been the King’s castle, there had been +some rebuke, as indeed due, for such +noise made. The Prior in his chamber +sat alone; listening, I guess, in gloomy +mood to the revelry; and, all that night, +only Edmund the monk and mass Peter +with him: he came not forth to midnight-song.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But now I must return, and so must +ye that hear, or read, to the castle. In +<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>the hall there was a dancer on stilts, playing +the while on a recorder; there were +dancers on one leg, and dancers upon the +head; but that which most rejoiced many +of the beholders, were the disguisings and +the quaint antics of the mummers. There +came a whole troop, some wearing the +heads of asses, some of bulls, some of +calves, some of cats, who brayed and +kicked, bellowed and tossed, scratched +and mewed, to the very life. Others, +like stags and hares, hounds and apes, +kept not so pertinently to their pretended +natures, but marched on with solemn +state, as much as might be, hand in hand, +as if they had been loving friends and +neighbours; yet each with a dagger stuck +in his girdle. And others again, with +fools’ girdles and bells hanging to them; +tossing their heads, and cutting such +strange capers, to the noise of pipes and +drums, as made the sides of many to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>shake with laughter, and roused up every +hawk on perch there to shake his bells +in concert.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But all this was child’s play, though it +was often done before the worshipfullest +estates, in comparison of the sayer’s art; +which, when he could be heard between +whiles, when the loud revelry paused and +held breath, was marvellous to hear: and, +as soon as those mad-heads caught the +words of that tale-teller, sooth to say, +they soon were still and hushed, as though +no living soul but he breathed there; listening +to his dismal tradey, with tears in +their eyes, or quaking for fear of the +strange things he told them. He, the +while, with solemn visage, showing as +though he himself believed all the marvels +he related, and not showing roguish +smiles, as some do, kept on always to the +far end of his long tale: though some +learned clerks would oft-times comment +<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>to their neighbours upon his marvels, as +if he had purported lofty matter worth +their notice, and did not merely strive +to while an idle tide away.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In other parts of the castle were those +gentils and honest gentlewomen, that, misliking +the loud revelry of the hall, drew +together in chambers apart; and delighted +themselves with histories of times past, +the sad hopes of lovers, or the deeds of +brave knights, or otherwise in singing and +harping, after their own manner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the lower hall too was feasting, +and the mirth did not stop short of the +“Kuchane,” so that every man to the lowest +degree was joyous; and each chamber +and tower rung with song, or laughter, +save the prison tower of the poor merchant. +He, as he lay on his pallet-bed, +heard those sounds of music and jollity, +in confused uproar rising through the +courts, while his heart was stricken with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>fear and sadness; for, whether he were +right or not in believing Sir Gaston to be +the murderer of his friend, it is certain, +that he had seen his friend murdered, and +that too, as he had said, in the woods of +Ardenn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was, at this time, far from his home +and friends, and had been travelling, over +these parts, a lonesome stranger, along +the foss-way from Lincoln, southward; +having been on his merchandize into the +north seas, and having landed on the +eastern coast. Coming again to that place, +where, a few years back, he had buried +his friend, the remembrance of him broke +out in fresh grief; and, hearing that the +king was coming to keep festival in Kenilworth, +he resolved to break the matter +to him; as well as to adventure to tell him, +the times were such it was no longer safe +to journey in any part of his kingdom.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The most audacious robberies, certes, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>were then committed at noon-day with +impunity; nay, the very thieves themselves +feared not to be seen walking about, +little attempt being made to seize them, +or, in any wise, to suppress these scandalous +outrages. Not only then did the +sad fall of his friend, but also the fearful +condition of the living, urge the merchant +to make the truth known to the king.</p> + +<p class='c012'>With this design he had rested at +Kenilworth, but not at the house where +he had formerly suffered such affliction; +and, on the king’s arrival, had gone forth +in the crowd to behold him, though he +had not intended to present his petition +in that time of turmoil. But, when he +saw near his Highness, riding as it were +in the top of favour, the very man, whom +he thought to be the slayer of his kinsman; +when he beheld that look, which +he felt to dart into his heart, and to revive +there all the horror he had felt at the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>aspect of the murderer, at the moment +when his friend had been stricken down—then +it was, that, overcome by the strength +of his feelings, he dropped down senseless +in the castle court, as hath been related.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And now, what had he gained by his +courageous demand of justice? Suspicion, +contempt, fear, grief, a prison, and, perhaps, +death. Yet did he not repent the +effort he had made, so honest was his +grief for the fate of his kinsman; so much +was his mind possessed with the notion, +that he had accused his very murderer; +so confident was he that he was performing +a duty; and, what is more, so sure +was he, that to perform his duty in this +world is the wisest, the most truly cunning +thing a man can contrive to do. +Whether his suspicions concerning the +knight were just or not; these, his conclusions +touching his own conduct, none +<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>but fools, or villains, that is, none but +fools—will deny.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thus he lay on his pallet, alike deprived +of sleep by the jollity of others and by his +own grievous reflections. A lamp burned +beside him, but it served only to show the +forlornness of his condition, in this high +and distant tower. Sometimes, he would +rise and look through his grated window +upon the inner court of the castle, listening +there awhile to the distant minstrelsy +and to the confusion of numberless +voices, footsteps and closing doors, +that rose from many a chamber below. +Anon, a torch-bearer would pass the court, +a page, perhaps, or a yeoman; and would +show the gloomy towers above and the +steps of the guest he led at their feet. +But, this passed, nothing could the prisoner +see, save here and there, a lamp +burning through a casement of glass (and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>a goodly show there was of such windows +now in this castle) like stars through a +clouded sky; but mostly the glorious +beams of the great hall, that struck +through the windows and lighted the air +above. Once he heard the trumpets blow, +and thought the King was coming forth, +and once he fancied he saw, in the person +of one who followed a torch-bearer, Sir +Gaston himself. Then turned he from the +casement, looked no more, and fell upon +his pallet.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At last, every distant sound grew fainter; +the noise of the dancers ceased; then +the minstrelsy sunk low; the voices of the +hall revellers became few; he heard less +frequently the doors opened and shut; +and then he heard the fastening of bolts +and bars: and, afar off, the castle gates +closed for the night; and soon all grew +still, as though no living creature inhabited +there.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>And thus it kept, until the wayte piped +his second watch in all the courts. Then +the stranger arose, and, looking again +through his grate, saw him well, by the +light his groom carried, piping the hour. +And, when the man had finished his saye, +he went round the court, his boy-groom +holding up the torch, while he tried every +door, and found that all was safe. By +this light too, he perceived the wardour’s +men on guard; but no living being else +was seen. The windows of the great hall +were dark; and, the torch being gone, nothing +glimmered through the night, save +one great star, which wizards say is evil. +It stayed, at his hour, right over King +Henry’s lodgings; but for whom it watched, +who was there that might tell? The +prisoner knew the star, and all that was +thought of it, and he betook him to his +pallet groaning heavily.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had not long been there, when, as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>he thought, a voice near him spoke his +name. Now, there was a small grate +looked out from his chamber upon the +stair; and thence the voice seemed to +come. The prisoner, raising himself from +his pallet, turned, and saw there the figure +of a man passing away. He kept his eyes +fixed, for some space, upon the grate, but +the figure appeared no more, and he sunk +again on his pallet.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The voice, faint and passing as it was, +had thrilled him with dread. Whose it +was, wherefore it had called him by a name +known but to few, and had then passed +away, without communing with him, he +tried in vain to understand; yet seemed it +not wholly new to him.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>END OF VOL. I.</div> + <div class='c004'><span class='small'>LONDON:</span></div> + <div><span class='small'>PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET-STREET.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c002'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>INTERESTING WORKS</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>Just published by H. COLBURN, 8, New Burlington street.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>1. THE LAST MAN. A Romance. 3 vols. +By the Author of “Frankenstein,” “Castruccio,” &c.</p> + +<p class='c012'>2. GRANBY. A Novel. The Second Edition, +revised. In 3 vols. post 8vo. 27s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>3. DON ESTEBAN; or, Memoirs of a Spaniard. +Written by Himself. Second Edition. 3 vols. 27s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>4. SANDOVAL; or, The Freemason. By the +same Author. 3 vols. 27s. (In the press.)</p> + +<p class='c012'>5. THE NAVAL SKETCH-BOOK; or, Service +Afloat and Ashore. By an Officer of Rank. 2 vols. +18s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>6. THE ADVENTURES of a YOUNG RIFLEMAN +in the French and English Service, during the War in +Spain and Portugal. Written by Himself. Post 8vo. 9s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c012'>7. BRAMBLETYE HOUSE. A Novel. By +the Author of the “Rejected Addresses.” In 3 vols. post 8vo.</p> + +<p class='c012'>8. MEMOIRS of the MARGRAVINE of ANSPACH. +Written by Herself. 2 vols. 8vo. with Portraits.</p> + +<p class='c012'>9. THE PLAIN SPEAKER. Opinions on +Books, Men, and Things. In 2 vols. 8vo. 24s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>10. MEMOIRS of the COUNTESS DE GENLIS. +Vols. 7 and 8. Being the Conclusion of this interesting +Work.</p> + +<p class='c012'>11. THE REMINISCENCES of MICHAEL +KELLY, of the King’s Theatre; including a Period of nearly +half a Century. With numerous original Anecdotes of Distinguished +Persons, Royal, Political, Literary, and Musical. The +Second Edition, revised. In 2 vols. post 8vo. with a Portrait +by Meyer. 21s.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div><i>Works lately published.</i></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>12. MATILDA; a TALE OF THE DAY.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in24'>“Blush I not?</div> + <div class='line'>Can you not read my fault writ in my cheek?</div> + <div class='line'>Is not my crime there?”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div>The Third Edition. 2 vols. 12mo. 14s.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>13. TREMAINE; or, The Man of Refinement. +The Third Edition, revised. In 3 vols. post 8vo. 31s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c012'>14. SAYINGS and DOINGS. Second Series; +comprising four New Tales, viz. The Sutherlands; Doubts and +Fears; The Man of Many Friends; and Passion and Principle. +The Third Edition, in 3 vols, post 8vo. 1<i>l.</i> 11s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c012'>15. HIGHWAYS and BY-WAYS. Second Series; +containing Three New Tales; viz. Caribert the +Bear Hunter; The Priest and the Garde du Corps; and The +<cite>Vouée au Blanc</cite>, or The Maid devoted to the Virgin. Third +Edition. In 3 vols. post 8vo. 30s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>16. THE DIARY and CORRESPONDENCE +of SAMUEL PEPYS, Esq. F.R.S. Secretary to the Admiralty +in the Reigns of Charles II. and James II., and the intimate +friend of the celebrated John Evelyn.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div>Edited by RICHARD, LORD BRAYBROOKE.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>In 2 vols. royal 4to. printed uniformly with “Evelyn’s Memoirs,” +and embellished with Portraits and other Engravings +by the first Artists. Price 6<i>l.</i> 6s. boards.</p> + +<p class='c012'>17. MEMOIRS and RECOLLECTIONS of +COUNT SEGUR, Ambassador from France to the Courts of +Russia and Prussia. 8vo. French, 10s. 6d. English, 12s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>18. MEMOIRS of the COURT of FRANCE +during the Residence (above thirty years) of the MARQUIS +DE DANGEAU. Now first translated from the French; with +Historical and Critical Notes. In 2 vols. 8vo. 28s. Ditto in +French, 3 vols. 28s.</p> + +<p class='c020'>This very interesting Work will be found to contain a great number of Secret +Anecdotes and Facts, hitherto unknown, respecting the Courts of France and +England.</p> + +<p class='c012'>19. A PICTURE of GREECE in 1825; as exhibited +in the Personal Narratives of JAMES EMERSON, +Esq., COUNT PECCHIO, and W. H. HUMPHREYS, Esq., +In 2 vols. post 8vo. with a Portrait of the Greek Admiral +MIAOULIS. Price 18s.</p> +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c002'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + + <ul class='ul_1 c004'> + <li>Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + + </li> + <li>Renumbered footnotes. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78468 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-03-26 00:00:05 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/78468-h/images/cover.jpg b/78468-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61e7600 --- /dev/null +++ b/78468-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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