L I B RAR.Y OF THL U N 1 VERS ITY or ILLl NOIS 823 B252 v.i BAllNADISTON B ^ale of t[)c ^ebenteent^ ^enturt). IN rmiKi: volumes. VOL. I. LONDON .SAUNUKKS AND OTLKV, ( ONDLIT STUHKT 1834. PREFACE. In offering the following work to tlie public the Author is sensible he must calculate greatly upon its indulgence. It teenieth with faults, and possesseth not, he fears, many redeeming qualities. If any excuse shall be allowable, he may be permitted to say, it is his first attempt in this way : tlie avocations of a military life, the roar and wit of the mess-table, or the dull routine of garrison or colonial service, (in which VI PRKFACE. he regrets to have passed any of his days,) are little suited to the encouragement of literary occupations ; but being freed from military trappings and trammels, the Author was, per- haps somewhat too hastily, induced to indulge the bias of his mind, in the composition of a tale, taken from the traditionary remembrances which the war of the ffreat rebellion hath be- queathed from sire to son, in almost' every town and lone village of our island home. The family of Barnadiston, from which tiie title of these pages is taken, were, at one period, of great consideration in the borders of Essex and Suffolk. And if our annals have been written true, the castle of Barnadiston, which once stood on the banks of the little streamlet, the Stour, on the steep above the village of Kedington, in the county of Suffolk, was in days of yore a mighty keep, one of those feudal J'KEFACE. Vii fortalices which fell, when Charles fell from his throne. It was in the neighbourhood of that sequestered valley, once the domains of the Lords of Banson, that the Author passed his earlier and happier days ; and was compelled by fortune to desert those peaceful abodes, and wear a useless brand, when war's trumpet had ceased to blow, and the soldier became no more than the privileged, gaily tricked, fantastically arrayed idler. The army possesses but few charms for a person in peaceable times, who hath not overwhelming influence, some share of the wealth of Croesus, and a natural prone- ness to " much ado about nothing." The ear- piercing fife, and spirit-stirring drum, the stiff parade, its blank and empty forms, are not congenial with all spirits ; — they were not so with the Author : he quitted the profession of arms with the highest esteem for many of its Vlll PREFACE-. members, (among whom he will ever be })roLid to rank many personal friends,) with an utter detestation of the unfair and invidious system pursued in the promotion of officers, entirely unentitled, eitlier by qualifications or services, to be preferred before their brethren — owing their elevation purely to the accident of birth, of wealth, or ])arliamentarian influence. The Author would not in any way have alluded to his military apprenticeship, were it not in some measure in extenuation of the many defects of the Work he now offers to the public, who will perhaps judge somewhat leniently of the pro- duction of one whose pursuits have not been calculated to promote success in imaginative composition. The sword and the ])en liave in- deed sometimes been felicitously wielded by the same hand ; but such instances are rare ; and the critic is not unfrequently considerately PREFACE. IX sparing to those of the sword, who appear in the arena of literature, with less advantage than other competitors. The Author has but to hope some such consideration will be bestowed on himself; and with that impression, he in- vites his reader to the perusal of the following 'Work. BARNADISTON. CHAPTER I. Of olden days I tell;, — when civil broil . Convulsed our island home ; when proud Baronial fortalices fell, and many a famous Name was heard no more ; and the loud trump Of war startled the hallowed fane, the busy. Stirring town, and the poor, peaceful cottage of the vale. Anonymous. BoRX of high parentage, and linked by the ties of consanguinity with the noblest families of the land, Albert Barnadiston was reared by his widowed mother witli all the affection, zealous VOL. 1. li BARXADISTON. solicitude, and matronly pride that niioht well beseem the sole surviving scion of a race, wlio liad long held the wide domains, and once formidable turrets of Bamadiston Castle, wliich had been granted by the Conqueror to the ancestor and founder of the name, in reward of signal services performed in the decisive field of Hastings. From his earliest infancy, the young Albert had been taught to regard with enthusiastic admiration the glorious feats of his ancestors, who had successively followed their native princes to the Holy Land, had bled in the far- famed fields of Cressy and Agincourt, and sub- sequently had shared and suffered the reverses incidental to the dubious war of the roses, where the Barnadiston surmounted his battle pennon witli the pale flower, — fit emblem of the mourn- ful triumphs of the conqnerors over their con- quered countrymen. Amidst the din of combat, too, in the arduous and hard-fought fight of Bosworth, the war-cry of the Barnadiston was BARNADISTOy. 3 carried into the centre of the desperate ring of warriors who fought with determined energy around the person of the indomitable Richard ; and a tradition was carefully preserved in the family, that the spear of their ancestor had drunk the life-blood of the fierce usurper.''^ To a young and sensitive mind, naturally proud, and nursed by the exaggerated fictions of* the old domestics, who fed with wondrous tales the curiosity of their young lord, Albert Barnadiston early acquired a strong desire for distinction, and excellence in arms. The lady- mother of Albert felt assured that the blood of his race was a sure guarantee of his skill in all knightly exercises ; but the love of knowledge, and the cultivation of the mind, were objects * The white rose, the emblem of the House of York, may seem inapplicable to an opponent of Richard ; but it must be remembered, that many of the most devoted partizans of York, disgusted with the tyranny and usurpation of Richard, joined the standard of the Earl of Richmond. p 9 4 BARNADISTON'. too little regarded. ])y the generality of Eng- land's noble blood, in those rude days, when science had not long touched with her magic wand our favoured soil, where she has since been fostered with our liberties; but was yet too nuich confined to the charmed and classic land and language of Italy, where the mighty spirits of a Dante, a Tasso, a Galileo, a Ma- chiavel, a Raphael, and a Buonarotti, had conjured her from her slumbers amidst the dark- ness of ages, or from the useless and mouldering solitude of the cloisters. One mighty genius, whose immortality can perish only with tlie tongue of his native land, had indeed aii^en among us, and adorned the Elizabethan era ; but the mass of the English nation was not yet emerged from general ignorance, and it was not then considered absolutely necessary to be con- versant with the iii.sfrucf'ivc lore of those sages who had enlightened mankind, antl who yet " rule our spirits from their urns."*' When Lord Barnadiston, the father of BARXADrSTOX. 5 young Albert was travelling through Italy in early life, (a tour in those days confined to the illustrious and noble of our land, with few ex- ceptions,) in his sojourn at Venice, which was held, and justly held, by chivalric Europe, to be the seat of politeness, of arts, of commerce, and of the science of government — queen of the sea, and the bulwark of the Christian world, — he was entertained with profuse hospitality in the palace of Ludovico Morosini, of the blood of the conqueror of the Morea : he there became acquainted, and cultivated a strict friendship, with a Florentine, who had been engaged in the tumultuous and bloody factions of his native city, and having unfortunately, in a nocturnal skirmish, met and slain the brother of his be- trothed mistress, he fled with horror from the scene of the frightful tragedy ; and forswearing the trade of arms, and the ambition of distinc- tion, he kneeled at the sacred altar, a disciple of Loyola, and a suppliant to a merciful God for forgiveness of his crime. Father Gaspardo 6 BAIINADISTON. was yet in the prime of life ; but the fierce pas- sions and fire of his youth were no longer to be traced on his proud but subdued brow, which was deeply engraven with the lines of thought ; though a close observer might have espied, in his hollow cheek, and in the fire of his deep grey eye, the wrack of soul, and the scathing spirit, subdued but scarce controlled. There was a calmness in his mien, which the authoritative outline of his features belied ; though shaded by the deceitful cowl, the lofty forehead, the high, prominent nose, and the beautiful scorn of the upper lip, all lighted up by the intelligence of the commanding eye, bespoke more the war- rior of the old Koman blood, than the holy priest ; and his firm and measured step seemed more meet to marshal embattled armies on the dusty field, than to tread the sounding solitude of the cloisters. Though Father Gaspardo was possessed of the all-powerful mind, cul- tivated talents, and schooled habits of his dangerous brotherhood, he possessed them BARNADISTON. 7 only, with his persuasive powers and deep- toned, musical voice, to impart those truths and precepts that should improve mankind, and contribute to the happiness of his fellow-beings. In Lord Barnadiston he found a high and noble foreigner, who loved to listen to his powerful eloquence in the cause of wisdom, and the heart of the Jesuit opened and warmed to the frank and sensible Englishman, as he ob- served his manly countenance vary with unre- pressed emotions, while he related the moving tales of his divided city, his fatal rencontre, his blighted love and ceaseless remorse. Each day added to the partiality which the English lord felt for Gaspardo, and since the Barnadisto" had never fallen away from the worship of hi^ fathers, but held with pride and stedfastness to the faith which his countrymen had abandoned, following the example of their lustful and capri- cious king, he prevailed with the enlightened Jesuit to return with him to England, and to pass the remainder of his days in honoured retire- 8 BAllNADISTOX. iiient amidst the time-worn cloisters of Ked- ington Priory, a dependence of the Lords of Banson. Years had passed away, and in the happiness of a social life, blessed in the devoted love of an affectionate and beautiful wife, and in the en- joyment of the intellectual conversation of the instructive Gaspardo, Lord Barnadiston was honoured among his compeers, and usefully and gratefully employed in the diffusion of comfort and happiness among his numerous and attached retainers, and in the strict and impar- tial administration of justice, when he was called away, in the prime of age, by a sudden sum- mons to another, and, let us hope, to a happier world. Dee]) was the affliction of the noble and youthful Lady Barnadiston at the bereavement of her honoured and iiiuch-lovcd lord; and the bosom of tlio fair mother heaved witli anxious tenderness when she thought u])on the impor- tant charge of rearing the sole pledge of her BARXADISTON. 9 love, and the last representative of an ancient and untainted name. While she remarked with sorrowing mournfulness, and maternal solici- tude, the playful archness, and juvenile graces of the prattling Albert, her heart w^as buoyed up by the pleasing anticipation of watching the budding virtues of her beauteous son ; and in order that he might early and successfully ac- quire the lessons of wisdom and honour, she submitted him entirely to the superior instruc- tion and superintendence of Father Gaspardo, who, in tribute to the memory of the sire, quitted the peaceful precincts of Kedington Priory, and devoted himself completely to the education of his promising son. Perfectly satisfied that she had provided, in the effective and friendly supervision of Father Gaspardo, an unequalled director of the mind of her son, the Lady Barnadiston committed to Antony Conyers, the faithful esquire and com- panion of her honoured husband, the charge to instruct Albert in all manly exercises, and ac- b5 10 BARNADISTON. coniplishments of knightly chivalry, usual to the high-born youth of the time. Though stricken in years, the robust frame of the stout squire was yet unimpaired, and showed, from his upright carriage and gallant step, the fear- less hardihood and active courage of his former youth. Loud and high would he laugh, and his sparkling eye would beam with joy, when, in the exercise of darting the javelin, careering with the lance, and bending the stubborn bow, he would exult in the surpassing excellence of his youthful pupil ; but it was in the management of the foaming horse that the pride of old Con- yers would be excited ; and the fire of his eye would be kindled, when his young lord, locking his hand in the mane of his snorting courser, would spring from the verdant turf at one bound ; and, sitting with ease and erect in the saddle, unstirrupped, would turn his armed heel to the flank of the startling charger, and run him at full speed through all the passages of the manege, dart from the barriers, check in BARNADISTON. 11 mid course, and, curvetting gracefully, ride round the ring with lowered spear. It was after returning from one of their exercises in the park, that Conyers related the pomp and pageantry of the tournaments he had witnessed in the court of Henrv the Fourth of France ; where the English knights, with the vain and splendid Leicester, and his accomplished and elegant nephew, the pride of his country, and the admiration of courts, the high-minded and virtuous Philip Sydney, were entertained in kingly magnificence, and jousted with favour- able success against all comers. "Ah," continued the old squire, warming at the recollection of the spring of his nervous arm in his youthful days, " well do I remember that the heron crest of the Barnadiston floated for three days amidst the choicest chivalry, though many a gallant hawk and sovereign eagle swooped fiercely down upon it ; and when the squires entered the lists on foot, and the bright swords played round the beaming helmets, there was none which had 12 BARXADISTON'. razed the lieron ])lunie of the squire of the Lord of Banson." " And think you not, Conyers," said the ex- cited Albert, " that my lady mother will soon send me forth to the court of my king, to vie in mimic feats of arms with the young and gallant nobles, who flock round the person of Charles, Prince of Wales?" " That the high and noble lady will do so, ' said Conyers, " and send you forth among your compeers with the attendance and fair equip- ment of the heir of the Barnadiston, I cannot doubt: it is long since I have been at court; but I have heard that the king which Scotland hath given us, favoureth not tlie sheening of a lance, and that he keeps not up the state and pageantry, that were so much loved by the house of Tudor, by the caprice of bluff king Harry, and by the wise policy of the vain and virgin queen." " I have lieard, however, Conyers," said Albert, " that the Prince of Wales is a perfect BARNADISTON. 13 and noble cavalier, fair to behold, and of an extreme goodness, though melancholy withal, and not given to rude jests and boon com- panions : he is, too, a learned scholar and fair spoken."" " Well, for all I know, I see but little ad- vantage in all this learning," said Conyers, *' which I hear so much of now-a-days ; it sharpens men's wits, may be, a little more, and they were often too sharp before for bad pur- poses ; but, to my thinking, this general spread of learning, will end in making honest folks discontented with their present situations, and they won't be at rest, till they have brought round some sort of a change which may make a peasant a lord and a lord a peasant. For my part, I am too old to trouble myself about this new-fangled learning, that has seized on all the young heads: honest Antony Conyers wants no more than a bright day, a bold hawk, and a soaring heron, and he would not exchange places with Chancellor Bacon. 14 BAHNADISTON. Albert smiled at the odd comparison of the old squire, saying archly, "It is strange, too, that one ^vho can hold so lightly tlie value of learning in his own person, and can believe it fraught with such ruinous consequences, should have, with marked inconsistency and especial anxiety, secured to his son the benefits of a very excellent education. Let me tell you, Conyers, much as I love Wilfred, and admire his talents, I doubt if his superior spirit, and intellectual mind may not feel deeply wounded to lead the war charger, and to hold tlie stirrup, the hereditary duties of the squires of tlie lords of Banson ; lie is far more fitted to become a wise expounder of the law, or an ambitious and eloquent prelate." " Odds blood !" exclaimed the astonished and simple-hearted squire, " Wilfred is certainly bookishly given, and I have not indeed spared any expense to cultivate the boy's mind, as his poor mother used to say, ' Anthony, though you are rude in manner, and without clerkly BARNADISTON. 15 skill, yet must we bring up Wilfred in the ways of wisdom, after the manner that Solomon has spoken of in the Proverbs. He that getteth wisdom, loveth his own soul ; he that keepeth understanding, shall find good:" and on her death-bed, my good dame made me promise to fulfil her wishes and intentions. God knows I have endeavoured to do so, and I am thankful to the Lord for the blessing he has bestowed upon me, in a dutiful and affectionate son, of a goodly mien, and of a free and generous tem- per ; but if I thought he could for a moment hesitate to follow the calling and honourable place of his father and ancestors near the person of the Barnadiston in the battle-field, or the chase, I would disown him, disinherit him, and whistle him off from my memory, like a hawk swooping down the wind. No, no," said the old man, much agitated, " Wilfred would never break his father's heart." "My kind, good Conyers," said Albert, with emotion, laying his hand on the trembling arm 16 BARNADISTOy. of the old squire, and looking up with surprise and sorrow at his (juivering lij) and watering eye, *' I said not that Wilfred would eontemn the calling and honoured service of his ances- tors ; but I think him meet for higher things. With his unusual acquirements, I would desire to see him em])loyed in a nobler occupation than can befal the duties of the simple squire of a young lord. Wilfred is my companion and friend, and will accompany me to court too, as my Esquire, Conyers ; but if I do not mucli mistake, the voice of fame will couple his name with deeds that shall make glad the heart of his worthy father. It is time, Conyers, our departure should be hastened, and I would have you urge your influence with my lady mother on this point. I burn with impatience to wear the knightly spur and belted glave; and by the prowess of my single arm to add to the honours of my line." The excited Albert sprung from his champing steed, and waving an adieu to Conyers, lie turned BAllNADISTON. 1? into the hall of his fathers, where he paced impa- tiently in all the buoyancy of high-wrought spirits, till his armed tread waxed fainter and yet more faint on the marble pavement, as the gaze of the youth gradually became arrested by the pictured panoply of the by-gone ancestors of his race, who frowned round the vast hall of Barna- diston. There might be seen the companion of the Norman, with his formidable battle-axe and large moustache, and the red cross Templar, with his sun burnt features and solemn mien, in the white cloak and scarlet cross of his order ; and the proud commanding look of the steel clad Baron, the dictator of Runnymede, who in his left hand held the invaluable char- ter of our liberties, while his right rested on the mighty sword that had rescued his country from despotic slavery, and had swept from his native soil the footsteps of Louis and his invading Frenchmen. There might be seen some young lord with long flowing ring- lets, the courtier companion of the second and 18 LAR\ADISTOX. courtly Edward, and some blooming beauty who had adorned the gay and festive court of his warrior son ; while the more modern Spanish hat and feathers waved gracefully over the brows of the chiefs, wlio bore the pale white rose in their bannerets; and the spirited horse, and armed warrior, with his fatal spear, the hero of Bosworth. Among the neighbouring nobility tlie high birth and beauty of the Lady Barnadiston Jiad attracted many admirers; and powerful suitors had vainly courted the distinguished widow to a second marriage; but true to the memory of her loved and departed lord, she never could be induced to lay aside her ''inky suit," but continued to wear the rich widowed dress of the times, save that her head was surmounted usu- ally with tlie coronal, tliickly studded with strings of orient pearl, the distinctive emblem of a woman of high ])irth, holding the hereditary castle during the nonage of the heir. To the sole ofTsjjring of her love, and the last and lone BARNADISTON. 19 scion of a mighty and honoured house, the Lady Barnadiston had dedicated the widow- hood of her days ; and the blooming health and boyish graces of the young Albert often filled with joy her woman's heart. It was about two years after the death of Lord Barnadiston that one of the tenants, who had followed and served him faithfully during his lifetime, died, leaving an orphan girl, of tender years, to the care of the indulgent and generous Lady Barnadiston, who, with a feeling sympathy, took the interest- ing little Mary Milbank under her own imme- diate charge, and removed her from the father- less house to the castle, where she at once became the undivided companion and cherished playmate of the young Albert, whose junior she was about a year; timid as a frightened fawn, gentle, mild, innocent, and full of win- ning charms, it was with the pride of superior daring and confidence that the cherub-faced boy- protector, with his long auburn hair and laugh- ing eye, might be seen leading forth, and en- HAUNADISTOX. cGuraging the heaven blue-cycd child to venture beyond the enamelled lawn, the prescribed limit of their infantine gambols, and chase with eager eyes and outstretched hands the varie- gated summer butterflies through the adjoining mead, creeping cautiously to seize, witli a tri- umphant look, the fluttering insect, drunk with the honeyed dew sucked from the golden cow- slip. The attachment of the children grew with their growth ; but as they advanced in age, and the sylph-like form of the lovely Mary Milbank developed into charming womanhood and beauty, she rarely met Albert, while she became the immediate companion and close attendant on the Lady Barnadiston. Untaught in all tlie useless and multifarious accomplishments which appear to be thouglit so highly essential to the whole community of th.e fair sex in this wonder-workiuix ajje, wherein in female education so much is sacriflced to show, and so little importance attached to thrift and housewifery, the Lady Barnadiston, beyond the BARNADISTON. 21 skilful and perfect exercise of her needle and the liomely duties of superintending her household, and not unfrequently kneading the immense Christmas cake, was not otherwise learned. 'Tis true she could read and relish the metrical bal- lads of Chaucer, and the fairy poesy of the ima- ginative Spenser, but her hours were more gene- rally employed in working the rich embroideries and ornamental points festooned over the van- dyked dresses of the day; in attending the solemn and impressive mass of the Romish ritual in the old oak wainscotted chapel of the castle ; bowing in humble spirit at the confessional, and with a liberal profusion bestowing alms on the indigent and helpless peasantry, and supplying the wants of poor widows and distressed orphans; and, on occasions, riding on her richly attired and easy ambling palfrey, led by the old silver-haired seneschal, round her wide domains, listening with patience to the tales, and redressing the griev- ances, of her adoring tenantry. In such duties and such exercises did Lady Barnadiston care- 22 BAliXAIJISTOX. fully instruct the gentle and grateful ^larv Milbank. But the beauteous girl was likewise permitted to benefit by the instruction of Father Gaspardo in the Italian language, which began then to be in much repute. It was to the care and high qualities of Father Gaspardo that Albert, at the age of eighteen, owed all those superior acquirements and sound judgment so unusual to gallants of gentle blood in those days : possessed of a quick and intelligent perception, endowed with a fine sense of natural beauties, and an application rare in a youth, the lessons of Gaspardo were not wasted on a barren soil. Familiar with the classic authors, whose genius and whose fame have survived the downfal of their beautiful countries, Albert was taught to appreciate the inimitable force, depth of feeling, and wonderful knowledge of the human passions, displayed in the unrivalled works of Shak- speare, and to relish the ricli language and poetry of the Italian bards, — " the bards of BARNADISTON. 23 chivalry and hell,"— and he whose tuneful num- bers were strung in the cause of all-conquering love ; but it was to the moral and truth-inspir- ing writings of the great Bacon, that had just then opened a fertile source of information to the world, that Gaspardo more particularly di- rected the mind of his pupil ; and to the lumi- nous pages of his own countrymen, Machiavel and Guicciardini, whose instructive histories of their native republic, and of the times, afforded such an ample field to exercise the judgment, and to teach the science of government, and the intrigues and fierce passions that must be encountered by the patriot and statesman. " To you, Albert," said Father Gaspardo, with a slow and solemn manner, made more im- pressive by the unequalled depth of tone of his fine, modulated voice, — " to you it will soon belong to go forth into the world with a rank an4 a name that must insure you an honoured welcome in the court of your native prince. I fear not, that you will be lured by the voice of 24 BARNADISTOX. tlie flatterer, or that you will fall before the idol of pleasure; I fear not that you will bask, an insignificant insect, in the sunshine of royal favour, or that you will prostitute your talents to the intriguing whispers of the court. You will be exposed to the insidious caresses of par- ties, and you will have to encounter the unpro- voked envy of many an ignoble soul. He whose path, my son, lieth in the palaces of princes, treadeth, perhaps, in the very moment of his most assured and exalted favour, upon the secret mines which are working for his down- fall ; and the flattering smile of royalty is often the deceitful prelude to the damp gloom of the dungeon or the headsman's a.ve ! — beneath the rustling of the purple silk, and the smooth down of the spotted ermine, the same base passio?is are harboured, with a more outward show of courtesy and practised dignity, as may be fount!, in all their native deformity, under the cold shade of exclusive aristocracy, or amidst the rude tumults of popular assemblies. It is the BARXADISTON". 25 nourished pride of high distinction, which, if not curbed by cautious communing with your own soul, will, I fear, Albert, impel you into dangers that you know not of. Dost thou not remember in thy favourite Shakspeare the im- pressive admonition of Wolsey to Cromwell ? " Fling away ambition, for by that crime fell the angels." "•' I do, holy father," replied Albert, '' but surely I have oft heard you say, that the man devoid of ambition was as a weed thrown on the bosom of the swelling ocean ; he mingles amongst the crowd and hum of men, and is tossed about, disregarded and despised, in the tumultuous conflict of stirring passions, and, without energy and without a name, sinks into everlasting forgetfulness, and is borne away unhonoured to the grave." '' I have said so, my son, and truly said; but there exists a marked difference between the supine and apathetic wretch whose days are past in the cold and selfish misanthropy of a VOL. I. c 26 BARXADISTON. useless existence, and he who pursues with steadiness and integrity that line of life to which it hath pleased God to call him. The active citi- zen of his country, who diffuses happiness around the circle of his influence, and when occasion calls, the patriot, bold assertor and uncom- promising upholder of the privileges of man- kindj — him do I honour far beyond the vain warrior, whose wide fame is cemented by the blood of thousands, and whose glory is based on the miseries of the human race." " It is strange, however, father," rejoined Albert, " that in the long lapse of ages, through- out the rise and fall of mighty emperors, we can rarely meet with any character that has not been tarnished by some wretched vanity, been changed by the smiles of fortune, or corrupted by tlie lust of rule. It is a trite truth, that prosperity is the touchstone of virtue, and I know of none, amidst all the shining worthies of Greece and Rome, or of modern times, who have abided unscathed the test, unless it be the BARNADISTON. 27 philosophic Marcus Aurelius, or who have con- tinued in the paths of private life, un warped by flattery, or undeterred by persecution, to pursue the rigid practice of virtue, and to inculcate the purest precepts of morality, save the God-born founder of our faith and the sage Athenian. The testimony of all ages has sufficiently esta- blished that perfection is incompatible with the passions of man, and experience daily proves, that the possession of power, however unwor- thily obtained, will secure to the possessor the general adulation of mankind. However beau- tiful the impossible and imaginary models of perfection in the dreams of the philosophers, they have never been realized amidst the active business of life, and it seems to have been a curse entailed upon the human race ever to excite the genius of the conqueror and destroyer by the senseless and everlasting fame which gene- ration after generation accords to their devas- tating actions." " It is true, my son, that mankind have con- c 2 28 BAIIXADISTOX. ferred on ihc triumphal car of victory the Iialo of a name whicli has conduced to tlieir own destruction, like the silly moth which plays round the dazzling beams of the glaring light, till it falls a victim to its admiration. And to the watchwords of despotism and liberty have been sacrificed the manes of many ages, while the star of the ascendant of either has been marked by the miseries of the human race. While we shudder with horror at the imaginary sword of Dionysius suspended over the head of its victim by a single thread, and the wild in- vention of the bull of Phalaris, we must not forfjet the atrocious cruelties of the Athenians in the days of their freedom, or the fierce laws of the Carthagenians against their successful ge- nerals ; — while we tremble at the bloody tyranny of Galeazzo Visconti, and Castruccio Castracani, we must remember the drunken excesses of the Florentines in the election of their Gonfalieris, and the mad carnage that stained the Italian cities, in the deadly feuds of the Guel})hs and BARNADISTOX. 29 Ghibellines. The abuse of kingly power, and the excess of popular rule, are alike to be deplored ; but the former usually culls its victims from the aspiring ranks of aristocracy and wealth, and disregards the mass of the people, who may, in unobtrusive security, pursue their various avocations; but the latter, like the voracious hydra with its hundred heads, must be gorged indiscriminately from every rank and station : the garb of poverty is no better shield than the patent of the noble. I dread, my son, that thou shouldst venture forth amidst the shoals that have shipwrecked many a noble and ardent mind." " Still, father, you will allow it is meet that the heir of the Barnadiston should walk in the ways of his ancestors, and devote his sword and services where they are due, in the gallant circle which surrounds and protects my native prince," " 'Tis just, my son; yet do I fear that thy high and somewhat too romantic sense of ho* 30 BARN'ADI.STON. nour, and thy morbid ambition to do some deed in the eye of thy sovereign, will one day bring down ruin on thy fearless head, and end for ever the house and name of the Barnadiston.'' " And if it do — and I die with honour in the cause of mv sovereign, — welcome such death !'' exclaimed the animated Albert, with a startling earnestness that disturbed, for a moment, the collected soul of Gaspardo. " If I die such a death, my name will be hallowed, and the glories of my race shall be remembered in after ages with generous sympathy.'"' " My son," said the venerable father, " the lessons of wisdom have not been thrown away upon thee, and it is with pride I behold the high bearing of the son of my early friend. Serve your prince, and with true and loyal servitude, but let not your unchecked ardour engage you too far. ' Put not your faith in princes.' A mighty spirit is at work in this great country, and the day may come when the choice of duties sliall be between the children of BARNADISTON. 31 the mother land and their anointed king. Never forget the charter which the steel-clad baron, thy ancestor, bears in his left hand. May God's blessing attend thee, my son ! I go to prepare thy lady mother for thy departure to the court, which has been too long delayed."*"* Albert embraced his venerable instructor, and retired to ponder over the career about to open before him. 32 CHAPTER II. The castle once was famed — the mighty landmark Unto the country far — whence the proud chieftain From his armed halls sent forth his mandates To his vassal serfs, — 'tis gone, 'tis crumbled into dust — And nought remains, but one huge massive wall. The type — spared by the wizard giant Time — To tell the story of long ages past. Anonvmovs. Placed upon a commanding eminence, almost on the verge of three counties, Barnadiston Castle overlooked that forest country, emphati- cally styled the Woodlands of Suffolk, and also the wide champaigne flats and heaths, whicli extend over part of Essex, antl the whole of Cambridgeshire, covered with mounds, the traditionary cairns of the Danish invaders, and intersected by tlie mighty dyke, the work of the BARNADISTOX. 33 unequalled genius of the conquering Roman — of Agricola, or perhaps of Poctillius Cerealis — who commanded the island for Vaspasian, as- cribed by the awe-struck peasantry to the power of the evil one. Pacing, after his late conversation with Father Gaspardo, along the corridors and lone galleries, through which the soft winds crept, stirring the soothing and deep tones of an ceolian harp, and waving gently the streaming banners, whose folds swept over the hollow helmets and high-crested cones of his ancestors, Albert passed through the resound- ing hall, and walked forth to enjoy the balmy freshness of an autumnal evening. As he de- scended the broad flight of steps leading into the park, he was closely followed by two mus- cular and deep-fluked hounds of a generous breed, who arose noiselessly and instinctively from their reclining postures, where they had lain the livelong day on the landing of the stone steps, witli their wrinkled foreheads thrust c5 34 BAKNADISTOX. between tlieir outstretched fore-feet, resting their formidable jaws on the pavement, like to the carved monumental figures of those faithful animals, which may yet be seen couchant on the fanciful tomb of some knightly warrior of by- gone days. The path led down the verdant slopes of the park, and the watchful dogs hung close on the heels of their youthful master, ready with dauntless spirit to defend him with their life-blood, or at his cheering voice to fly forth with matchless speed and lion-courage in chase of the antlered monarch of the glade, or the foaming boar. Musing along the undulating banks of the little river, the Stour, which circled round the wide domains, and washed on one side the butting turrets of Barnadiston, Albert stood in enraptured gaze : while his soul drunk the magnificent beauties of the scene, the de- parting glories of the setting sun were touching with a softened ray the gothic battlements and mighty donjon keep of the lordly castle, and playing, in golden beams, upon the carved BARXADISTON. 35 images of the sainted apostles, who stood on the pinnacles of the arched roof in sculptured prayer, while the colouring of the richly-painted glass in the great central window of the hall, streamed afar off, like to the unrivalled tints of the rainbow through a clouded sky, and the shadow of the castle was clearly reflected on the silent streamlet of the Stour, which washed slowly but surely away, the base, the key-stone of the mighty fabric that appeared to frown down with giant disdain on its placid wave. The deep voices of the warders sounded clear in the still even- ing, and the armed tread of the sentinels upon the battlements might be heard, while the start- ling bell of vesper of the neighbouring priory of Kedington stole along the waters in sweetest music, till the faint and solemn sounds died away amidst the evening vapours which arose from the distant meer of Sturmur. The glad rooks were winging their slow and lazy way through the tranquil air from the open country, far beyond the market-town of Haverhill, to 36 KARXADlSTUN. seek their lofty repose amidst the tall and ancient fathers of the forest, who had, in untouched grandeur, surrounded for ages the ivy-mantled towers of Barnadiston ; and the wood-pigeons might be seen, almost viewless, skimming along with rapid wing, near to the dome of heaven ; while, along the slopes of the woodlands, and ringing forth from the valley of Wratting, which lay embedded amidst the most luxuriant scenery, were heard the manly shouts of the harvest home, mingled witii the cheering songs of the gleaner girls, returning to their cottage homes, " when curfew tolls tlie knell of parting day." Keclined on the sloping margin of the mean- dering river, Albert continued in deep con- templation of the beauteous vision, vhich the magnificence of nature offered to his view ; the shades of night fell fast over the land, wliilc the bat Hitted out from its damp home in the dun- geon, and the melancholy bird of night skimmed in low fliglit througli the noxious vapours, BARXADISTON. 37 hooting its long prophetic cry, twee wit, twee wit; hoo hoo ; hoo hoo ; and as the pale harvest moon arose majestically above her bed of clouds, tipping with silvery light the varied tinted leaves of the deep sliadowed forest, and shining in bright lustral gleam over the distant downs ; the short bark of the fox arose from the fell, and the hollow prolonged bay of the chained mastiff broke upon- the stillness of the night : the stars, the radiant lights which sparkle through the heavens, played round the queenly orbit, shooting their streaming glories through boundless space, reflected in imaged splen- dour on the tranquil transparency of the waters, which glided away in softened murmurs, through the richly cultivated vale. It was a scene that might even have won a pang from the steeled hearts of those whose long com- munion with the world had deadened the warm and sensitive feelings of their earlier days ; but the heart of Albert had not been hardened in the rude school of adversity, and he could yet 38 BARXADTSTON. feel and enjoy the poetry of such a night, a pleasure which the dull trite usages of life are too apt to blunt. The hounds, the guardians of his person, were stretched in seeming repose, unheeded by his side, when suddenly and simul- taneously wagging their tails, and, wistfully looking up at their master's face, they arose, and began a low anxious whine, endeavouring to attract his notice by pushing their cold noses against his hands. Albert checked their fond- ling, by " Down, down, Wolf; down, Charm, down ;'' and the obedient hounds at once crouched at the feet of their lord, who con- tinued lost in contemplation of the beautiful scene around him. " Well, thou art musing indeed, Albert," whispered a soft voice, passing at the same time her small and ^delicate snowy hand through the flowing tresses of his auburn hair, which spread in rich luxuriance over his shoul- ders. The surprised youth sprung at once to his feet, exclaiming in impassioned accents, BARXADISTON. Sjl " What, my Mary ?" throwing his arms in a warm embrace round the blooming girl, who stood beside him in all her loveliness. " Mary, my own beauteous Mary, how came you so suddenly, like some sylph or some fairy sprite, tripping to lead the dance with the elfins, be- neath the shades of the moonlit forest?" " Nay, Albert, thou art changed indeed, much changed, since even thy dumb guardians were before thee in my welcome. There was a time, Albert, when thou wert wont to say that thou couldst have distinguished the light step of thy Mary amidst the crowded throng, in the deep glades of the forest, or on the green velvet carpet of the soundless down ; but the ears and eyes of my love were then wakeful, and his heart acknowledged no love superior to the love of the poor maid he adored. But I have noted of late, Albert," — and the large con- quering tear drop of woman glistened on the deep fringe of her long eyelash, " that thy man- ner is colder tlian it was used to be ; I have 40 BAIIXADISTOX. not from you the same show of affection and of love, wliich I liave too fondly and foolishly prized." " Say not show of love and affection ; you do me injustice, Mary ; none ever loved a girl with a more true and tender passion than I have done, and must ever do : let not the slight for- getfulness of a moment, when my senses were drunk, and revelled in the soothing powers of a night like this, engender an undeserved coldness and reproach. Sit by me, ]\Iary, and enjoy the reposing tranquillity of nature. Ah ! my girl, when I gaze upon that expressive and soft- resigned face, my heart beats with a fearful pang at the separation which must come upon us. From infancy upwards, through the joyous days of our childhood, have we not been all in all to each other? How often, in boyish glee, have I culled the sweetest flow- erets, to wind into garlands for thy flowing hair! IIow often have we together strayed over the etiamelled meads, while I have plucked BARNADISTOX. 41 the violets and anemonies from their fragrant beds, and the honeysuckle and wild thyme from the perfumed hedgerows, and wove them into fantastic chaplets, to adorn thy childish brow ! And when in the merry month of [May, the gay and glad tenantry have thronged round the village May-pole, whom ever did I select for the queen of the day, but the beautiful and orphan charge of my lady mother — the innocent, the laughing, and now the much- adored Mary Milbank ? You know the feeling of a heart that must ever be assuredly yours ; but duty and honour demand that I repair to the court of my prince ; and the reflection upon the career before ine may have some- what changed my usual manner to you : but my fondness is unabated, and the coldness you have fancied, is more in seeming than in truth." " Albert, the memory of our happy days of innocent childhood falls upon my lieart like a pleasing dream, from which you have 42 BARNADISTOX. rudely awakened me, by the dread words of duty and honour, to which you are so much wedded, that I fear they will usurp the place I once held unrivalled in thy bosom. You have won from me my woman'*s pride, the concealed and jealous secret of my love ; but I do fear, that in the gay and glittering throng of courtly pomp thou wilt soon learn to forget the fond confiding orphan maid, who will pray for thy welfare in the deserted hall of thy fathers. The love of woman, x\lbert, is too often prized no more than the glittering toy which the fanciful boy flings aside ; but it is a love, too frequently deep, lasting, and heart-breaking, and bears its victim to an un- timely but a welcome grave. Dost thou bear in mind, when, in the ardour and devotion of thy first-born love, when early friendship ri- pened into powerful passion, and you poured the soft tale of music into my startled and en- chanted ear, how I listened in fond achiiiration, while you read to me the touching tale of the BARNADISTON. 43 false and faithless Bireno, who loved and left fair Olympia amidst the lone islands of the ocean ? Even so have I thought of late my Albert would quit me never to return." " Perish my name, if I could imitate the conduct of that traitor knight ! No, Mary, it is not in seriousness you have drawn the com- parison ; neither is my disposition nor my heart framed for falsehood : how then could the first act of my life be the commission of a deliberate and cold-blooded deception ?" " I have not thought, Albert, that your aban- donment and desertion of me would be ever premeditated; or that you would rejoice in the cold triumph of a victory over a weak and soft- hearted orphan. O no, it is not that I dread ; but, bred in the seclusion of a retired life, with only one on whom you could fix the affections of early love, and that one myself, may not the courtly manner, polished grace, and admired beauties of some one of the fair ladies who adorn the brilliant court of England's king, 44 BARXADISTOX. banish from your rciucnibrance the poor and humble Mary iNIilbank ? You may not think so now, ])erhaj)s; but the vanity of a high alliance, and the thirst of distinction, (a love in you inordinate,) may warp your mind, as it has done so many, and stifle the feelings which have warmed your heart, in first and ])owerful love — a dream cherished ever after in secret fondness, which haunts the victim of ambition, who often feels a pang, the remorse of early love, that strikes cold to his heart, amidst the deceitful smiles of the festive scene, and in the gay crowds, who foolishly envy his ' high estate.' It is the poor revenge, which blighted love wreaks in defence of injured innocence on proud and lordly man, the heartless destroyer of weak and confiding woman." "• And it is a revenge, ]Mary, which tlie angry boy-God will never be called upon to exercise on me, for he has dipped the arrow which he has shot into my heart, in the beam of thy bright blue eye,'' said Albert, smiling, " a DAIIKADISTON. 45 wound of cherished and incurable constancy. No, the character of the flirt, even among thy sex, however custom may have tolerated, and even encouraged it, from their enchanting love- liness, yet denotes a mind scarcely to be envied, and certainly never to be prized ; but a man who can deliberately, for the gratification of a momentary feeling, trifle with the aff'ections of a confiding woman, must have a heartless soul, devoid of every generous and ennobling sentiment. We must snatch ourselves away from the treacherous beauty of this night, my girl; the heavy dews will suit ill with thy delicate and fragile form, and the night-bell of the castle summons us to family worship and repose." The lovely orphan, leaning on the arm of the youthful lord, entered by the wicket in the postern, and repaired to the hall, where Lady Barnadiston and all her household were assembled for the evening service, which always closed the avocations of the day, in 46 BAUXADISTON. tlie good old tiiiRs when tlic Englisli nobles lived exclusively among tlieir happy tenantry. " Wilfred, my boy," said Antony Conyers, after taking a good long potation of home- brewed ale, the usual accompaniment of the primal meal, before luxury had introduced from far distant lands the tea-leaf, which has worked such a revolution in the breakfasting depart- ments, and has perhaps also contributed pre- maturely to set the palsied heads of all tlie old women a shaking, who may be seen trembling over the fatal and adultering stream, extracted from hyson, ash, or sloe leaves. " AVilfred,"" said the old gentleman, clearing his throat with a pompous hem, to a youth, whose raven neg- lected hair, and deep piercing dark eye, threw an unnatural and unholy gleam over features remarkably delicate and of an unearthly pallid- ness, and who at the moment was resting his elbow carelessly on the table, and his chin upon his hand, while some of liis lingers shaded the jet pencilled eyebrow, which arched over, and BARNADISTOy. 4? relieved his marble deathlike forehead, while in his other hand he balanced an old-fashioned, highly-wrought, silver spoon, which he rung unconsciously on the thick rim of a deep-painted china plate. " Wilfred,**"* said Conyers, in a tone which at once caused the youth to gaze with his calm sad look on the face of the sood- natured squire, while his arm fell almost list- lessly on the table, " I like not this little pleasure which thou takest in all spirit-stirring exercises and amusements, it smacks not of the son of jovial Antony Conyers. Why, boy, there sits th}^ gorged falcon, moping upon his perch like any old owl in the hollow of a light- niag scathed tree ; and though the bird be of the noblest breed, I doubt if he were now freed from his jesses, whether he would dare mount in the eye of the broad sun, and quarry the soaring heron near his piercing beams. No, he would more likely fly a lower pitch, at a twitter- ing sparrow, or some chattering magpie. Have I not often told thee, Wilfred, that the hound 48 IIARXADISTOX. must be nuicli blooiled, antl tlie hawk swooped through the sky, or they are apt to lose all the hit;h qualities of their natures, and become fit only to lounge lazily on a mat, or orna- mented with a silver collar and gaudy ribbons, to sit with eyes half shut on tlie wrist of some high-born lady ? Odds blood, my boy I at thy age, xVntony Conyers was riding over half the country in a day, drinking and laughing with all the jolly innkeepers, and kissing every buxom and merry lass, within twenty miles of tlie Hall." AVithout answering immediately this reproach to his skill of venery, which was held in such high estimation by his father and all country gentlemen of that period, Wilfred arose slowly from the table, and stepping out into a small courtyard, he loosenetl two line gaze liounds from their collars, and unclasping a long silver chain from a bar, suspended between two trees, he wound the end of it round his wrist, and un- hooded a dark-coloured falcon, with clear grey BARXADISTON. 49 eyes, and a snowy breast variegated with black spots, which, after taking a short flight to the length of its chain around the youth, alighted on his head, stretching its fluttering wings over him, and picking his long raven hair with its curved beak. Calling the dogs Flight and Fleet, Wilfred returned to the breakfast-room, and quietly resuming his seat, — "Father," he said, in the calm accent so peculiar to him, "if it will please thee, we'll fly our falcons a pitch ; mine has scarcely been freed from his jesses for three months, but he has been well taught, and I deem not that he will stoop to ignoble game. Although, my good father, I do not esteem the sports of the field, and other boisterous exer- cises, of so much consequence, as is the custom to attach to them ; yet may be, wlien occasion calls, I can shiver a lance, swoop a hawk, or quarry a deer, equally well with those who never do any thing else. I have ordered black Wizard for the field, and am ready to mount ;" — and as he bent a glance on the impatient VOL. I. D 50 BARXADISTOX. horse, who stood pawing tlie gravel under the parlour window, a slight flush of pride played across his pallid cheek, but quickly passed away ; while his ominous dark eye flashed for the moment, and instantaneously relapsed into its wonted calmness, as if in scorn that it could be moved for so poor a cause. " It is well, Wilfred,*" said the honest-hearted old squire, indulging a burst of paternal love, while a large anxious tear gathered in his kindly eye, — "thou art indeed my good and worthy son, of whom any father might well be proud. Saddle me bluff" Harry, my somewhat lazy, but staid charger," shouted the boisterous squire, cracking a huge hunting-whip ; " we will wake up our young lord of Banson with such a tira-ra- lee;" and he blew a blast from a hunting-horn, which was answered by some dozen deejj-baycd hounds in chorus, and all the yelling curs within lialf a mile. "Albert loves the cliase," continued the merry old man, rejoicing as a child would in the anticipation of some extra- BARNADISTON. 51 ordinary amusement ; " and he will follow it, too, all day through, with a more fiery ardour than you ever show, Wilfred ; but you are a brave boy,"' slapping the slight youth heartily on the back ; *' many a time have I seen thee quietly draw thy hunting-knife across the throat of a stately and desperate stag at bay, when Albert has been hallooing on the hounds, who were already too many for the noble animal. Madly will he ride, but he wants your judg- ment, "Wilfred. " Come Ringwood, come Clearwood, hie Dewbrush, hie Rake, — Come all my good dogs, to the chase we'll betake ; Come through the low meads, through brushwood away, 'Tis a fine hunting morn, with a rare scenting day." Thus shouted the squire, interspersing liis talk with som.e snatches and glees of old hunting or hawking songs; and striding forth surrounded with forest rangers, lure carriers, D 2 UNIVtKSITY 01- ILLINOIS LIBRARY 52 BARXADISTOX. and whimpering hounds, lie mounted bluff Harry, and rode slowly, laughing, whistling, singing, and rating the hounds, into the court- yard of Barnadiston Castle, followed at some distance by Wilfred, who soon dashed past his father, breathed his panting courser along the undulating flat of the park, and rattling over the drawbridge, reined up black Wizard suddenly in the resounding yard, where he sat the fretful horse with apparent apathy, who, with his arched neck, distended nostrils, and glorious eye, proudly struck fire from the pavement with his ironed hoof. On the wrist of his chain- encircled right hand Wilfred bore his hooded falcon, which was balancing itself with out- stretched wings; while a raven plume floated above a Spanish cap, shading his marble brow and chiselled features, and the dark horse em- bossed with frothy foam, gave him a strong resemblance to some hunter of Onesti's line "in Ravenna's immemorial wood." The first sound of the horn of old Antony BARNADISTON. 53 Conyers, in the court-yard of the castle, roused up all the lazy yeomen, prickers, and idle grooms, who were sauntering away the day, re- clined on benches, gossiping together, and drinking deep draughts from a huge tankard foaming with stout ale. The cheerful voice and horn of the old squire always gave note of preparation for the enlivening chase ; and in a moment an unusual bustle might be observed throughout the castle : here were forest-rangers seen grouping together in their short, curtelled, green frocks, and leathern belts, displaying their muscular forms and gaiter developed limbs; and the rustic peasantry, with their short mat- ted hair, but lately emerged from odious villa- nage, standing aloof with retained awe and gaping admiration, at the bidding of some stout yeoman pricker, who, with all the pomp of mo- mentary consequence, rode up and down the yard on his heavy, long-tailed horse, driving back the forward village boys, who with bitter jests assailed his vocation. " Give way there,"" cr^*^-^ ^ little urchin ; " make 54 BAIINADISTON. room for Farmer Blunt ; lie and bis big borse Dougbty will show the young lord and squire the way."" " Why, Lord, Lord, I never beard o' such a thing afore !'"* screamed a rosy-cheeked, flaxen- haired girl in the purest dialect of Suffolk ; — " why sure as I am here, Robert, if I didn't hear fayther for to say t'other day to our neighbour, Master Goodcbild, 'As how,' says he, ' stout Farmer Blunt have had a fear- some fall in the park — all come a soldiering; for as bow, when he were a trying to flourish his long sword round his bead, all the same as a flail, somebows be lost bis balance, and fell sich a thump right bang over big Doughty's long tail ; and, Lord, if be didn't kick and groan surely ; I believe you, I never seed the like afore ;' and now you would liave lie, Robert, show the young lord bow be be to ride : why it would be right down jokesome." " Stand back with your idle prate, maather^'' cried Farmer Blunt in an angry tone, " and you, varlets of boys," waving on high the formidable BAllNADISTON. 55 long sword, which he managed to use with hetter success this time; '•'I'll soon send you skipping !" and the ragged little wretches ran off a short distance, hallooing, " Halloa, take care of Farmer Blunt and his long swurd !'"* while the honest yeomen murmured in a gruff manner, " AVell, what next, I wonder ; here be the whole village, men, women, maathers, and boys, all a'ter coming gaping here so flightsome at the lord's hunting, when they should be a'ter a hoing and picking o' weeds from the five acres : to my thinking, that ground won't be cleared and fit for seeding this year."" During this assemblage, and the various dia- logues going on between different groups, the squire and Wilfred entered the castle ; and soon after, the hoary-headed seneschal was seen to issue from the archway of the stables, dressed in his flat red velvet cap, long scarlet mantle, buckled shoes, and red hose covering his shri- velled legs far above the knees, bearing his stick of ofiice in his right hand, while with his 56 BARNADISTOX. left he guided tlie picl)ald, ambling palfrcv of Lady Barnadiston, handsomely accoutred with a deep, stuffed, red velvet pad, with reins of similar texture and colour, followed by his page grandson, who held, by a white bridle, a smart, sprightly, prancing jennet, witli a neat side- saddle, upon the crutch of which sat a small, hooded hawk, of the round winged species flown at partridges, fastened by a silver chain attached to a buckle of the saddle-flap. A buzz immediately ran through the crowd, of " Our noble lady goes forth to the chase to-day ;" and when, leaning on the arm of old Conyers, Lad}' Barnadiston descended into the court, richly attired in her widowed dress, with a black velvet cap, ornamented with a string of pearls, and a pure massive gold chain hung round her neck, to which was attached a small ivory cru- cifix, confined by a girdle of precious stones, — with Albert, unbonneted, v/alking respectfully by her side, supporting the lovely INIary i\lil- bank, whose perfect form was well displayed by a BARNADISTOX. 57 tight-fitting riding-habit, her laughing blue eye glancing through her loose dark-brown tresses, which had escaped from beneath her purple cap, surmounted with a snowy plume, shading her rosy and dimpling cheeks, — a long and joyous cry arose, of " Long life to our noble lady ! — long life to our young and noble lord ! — pros- perity to the house of Barnadiston !" " Thanks, my kind, good people !"*" said the Lady Barnadiston, waving her hand, and bow- ing low from her piebald palfrey, on wliich she had been assisted by the old squire and more ancient seneschal ; *' Conyers, let Wilfred scat- ter a largess among my people, they are honest and true to our house ;"' — and again the loud shouts arose. Albert was engaged lifting Mary Milbank into her saddle, when Wilfred, having thrown a largess among the throng, stood beside him witli cap in hand, his raven hair sli/,ditly blown off his marble forehead, restrannng a fiery horse, and holding an embossed stirrup. D 5 58 HARXADISTON'. " Thanks, Wilfred !" as lie turned from the blushing Mary Milbank, who was patting her sprightly jennet on the neck ; " but it is not needed," said Albert ; " it is sufficient to know- that you are my hereditary squire — my com- panion and friend you are also, and I like not such services from you as are more befitting the groom of the stable." "Yet, my noble lord," said Wilfred in his calm manner, " I would not ])ermit to an infe- rior the performance of a duty, which has long given my family a claim to the familiarity and confidence of your ancestors, and which entitles me to be near your person, and to share your councils. Though I may be the friend and companion of Albert, I am also tlie rightful squire of the Lord of Banson ; and by this stir- rup have my fathers long held their broad lands and goodly mansion : it is a free, light, and honourable service, performed for a generous tenure." "Well, Wilfred, as vou will," cried Albert; baknadisto'n. 69 " I know it is vain to dispute with you ; but, my fair esquire, your young lord wants not yet the aid of a stirrup ;" — saying which, he received from Wilfred the bridle, and for a moment restrained the fiery horse ; then locking his left hand in the mane, he sprung easily into his seat ; and calhng to Wilfred to mount black Wizard, he snatched a noble falcon from one of the rangers, and caracoling alongside of the jennet of Mary Milbank, he cantered with her through the divided crowd to overtake his lady mother, amidst the cheers of the villagers, who beheld with pride the high bearing and gallant carriage of their young lord. " Fairly does he ride, and fair is he to be- hold,'" said a grey-headed old man, bowed down with the weight of an hundred years : " well do I remember my old father to speak of Marma- duke Lord Barnadiston, the grandfather of our young lord, gathering his followers and spread- ing his pennon to tlie wind. Much like him was he in person and in mien, though somewhat CO BAKNADISTON'. stouter and larger of limb ; but he was a tried warrior, and tliis is yet but a beardless youth — he has, though, all the marks of his noble race, and is a promising gallant. 'Well, we,"* as the old man used to say, ' went forth with our liege lord — a gay and gallant troop from our eastern borders — and forced our way deep into the heart of merry England, joining the Earl of Richmond, in good need, on the eve of the fight of Bosworth, with a thousand picked lances.' It was the arm of my father that bore the banner of the Barnadiston, through that hard-fought day, into the centre of the fierce warriors who fought round the person of their desperate king. Richard was hateful to the nation as a murderous usurjjcr ; but he was a fearless warrior, gallant in the field and sage in council. It was his genius, ])erseverance, and courage winch struck down the aspiring house of Lancaster ; and in his closing scene, well did he upliold hh former fame." " Is it true, thouiih, old Soame,'' saitl .several BARXADISTON. 61 voices at once, " that usurping Richard fell bv^ the spear of our young lord's ancestor ?" " Richard was not a warrior,"** said the old man, with something of a hectic flush across his cheek, and a momentary gleam in his eye — "no, my children, usurping Richard was not a warrior who would have fallen before any single lance in England ; — no ! they hemmed him in with a circle of bristling lances — they bore hard upon him, and he turned upon them on every side with the courage of the boar at bay ; twice did he drive back their stoutest knights, and once dashing the rowels into the flank of his milk-white steed, he struck off* at one blow the head from Sir William Brandon, who on that day wore the garb of the Earl of Richmond, and seizing the crested cone of the falling helmet, he hurled it on high, dripping with gore, and shouting, * Henry Tudor is no more !' he raised the war-cry of tlie house of York, and rushing into the very centre of the battle, he fell transfixed, and absolutely p.inned 62 BARXADISTOX. to the earth by tlic sjx^ar of Lord Barnadiston and twenty others. Come, my Alice, let me put my hand on thy innocent head, and lead on to our quiet, comfortable cottage, which our kind, good lady has given to my old age ; my eyes are somewhat dimmed, and my step totters towards the grave ;" — and amidst the blessings of the assembled villagers, the garrulous old man slowly walked away, supported by his pretty grandchild, the flower of the peasant- girls of Kedington. The cavalcade, led on by old Conyers, passed through the park ; and the squire occasionally made some apposite remarks, in consonance uith his character, in his most respectful man- ner, to the Lady Barnadiston: — "Yon tall stag, my noble lady, with his branching antlers sweeping the lower boughs of that clump of beech-trees, is a stag of ten : I liave noted him this many a yivnr, from a sprightly skipping fawn to a butting deer ; and now, in tlie })rinie of life, beauty, and vigorous force, he leads tlie BARNADISTON. 63 admiring herds through the slopes and dells of the park, the monarch of the glade. Some day we shall try his mettle and his speed with our boldest and swiftest hounds ; and I do not doubt, from his high bearing, but that his death-note will be rung amidst the lifeless car- cases of some of his fiercest destroyers." " It were a grievous pity, too," said Lady Barnadiston, "that our king stag should be bayed to-death, and all his spreading honours bowed to the earth by blood-thirsty hounds; he is the pride of our park, and I would not have him so die." " And how, noble lady, could he fall more honourably than at bay, with the life-blood of his mortal enemies flowing at his feet, and he himself falling, after a gallant resistance, by the chase cutlass of our young lord ? Better such a death, than to be ejected from the fickle herd by some luckier rival's force, and to breathe forth his expiring groans amidst the trampling feet of his own race. Proudly and stately does 64} BARXADISTOX. he sweep by us, and the submissive herd bound along, lightly and gracefully, in his footsteps ; but once vanquished by some aspiring son, they will gird him round with fellest rage, butt him to the death, and insult over his fallen great- ness."" " Strange are the ways of Providence, and inscrutable," said Lady Barnadiston, " and not to be impiously arraigned : even under the beautiful forms and innocent looks of the timid deer who adorn our parks, are concealed the lust of power, and the base passions of envy, jealousy, and hatred ; and it may be that the poor worm we tread upon is working his silent way along the surface of the earth, to assume, after a toilsome and arduous struggle, the su- preme authority amidst his grovelling brethren : what a lesson for vain and haughty man, whose dreams of ambition may be cut s'lort with equal ease, and no more warning, th.an the career of the worm by our heedless heel ; and his body become the |irey, and, ])erha])s, tlie cause of BARNADISTON. 65 Strife amidst the greedy destroyers whose dwell- ings are in the tombs. I was wrong, Conyers, to say aught in favour of the monarch stag : we interfere not usually in such matters, which we leave to your superior experience." " I am too much honoured, noble lady," re- plied the old squire, doffing his cap, and bowing low; "rude am I of speech, and unlearned, save in sportly calling and rough exercises; little beyond my devotion and love to your house have I to recommend me. It is time we begin our pastime : I see young Soame, the ranger, has marked down a covey of partridges, and Albert is unhooding the hawk of Mistress Milbank, who can strike to the ground any of the round-winged game ; and prettily enough does the young lady bear the bird ; — there they go !'' and putting her jennet to speed, the lovely Mary flung her falcon aloft, who soared an instant, and selecting its victim, swooped down and struck the trembling partridge, with truest precision, on the back of the head ; 66 BARXADISTON. Stunned by tlie blow, the unconscious bird towered aloft perpendicularly, and leaving its life amidst the clouds, fell to the earth with the velocity of a falling stone. " Well and neatly struck," shouted old Con- yers, " and as pretty a piece of the round- winged sport as you shall often see; but it will be well now to beat up the prime pride of all hawking, the grey blue-tinged heron ; the ladies will rest on this elevated ground with me, while with a dozen of rangers and lure carriers, you, Wilfred, can ride down below to the marshy grounds with our young lord, while they beat up the tall rushes along the meer of Sturmer — they will soon spring a long-necked heron which will try the courage and bold flight of your falcons, or Antony Conyers knows nothing of the nature of the bird."' " Come, Wilfred," cried Albert, putting his fiery horse into a bounding gallop, and stretch- ing forth his right arm, on the wrist of which a powerful hooded falcon balanced itself with BARNADISTOX. 67 extended wings, " a zechin that my hawk strikes the bird first." *' I would be loth, my lord," said Wilfred, '' to wager my bird ; I have not flown him for many a day, and the want of practice may be against him in a lasting fight ; but the bird is of noble breeding, and will not, to my thinking, prove a haggart. We may, however, try him, for there goes as close plumed and strong winged a heron as any sportsman would desire to behold ; look how he skims above the oziers with his spear beak, and long, bony neck curved round. We must dispatch our messengers to bid him go aloft ; the canopy of heaven is more befitting his pride than the noxious exhalations of a lowly marsh ;" and galloping forward, both the youths unhooded their hawks, and cast them off with an animated cry. Circling round for a moment, and suspended on their wings, as though to feel the freedom of their pinions, the noble falcons espied their game flapping slowly along above the tall rushes 68 BAllXADISTON. on the margin of the meer, and darting off in lightning chase, they rapidly approached the object of pursuit ; when within the distance of a few yards, the heron j)erceivcd its implacable foes: uttering a shrill scream, it sliot up towards the sky, straight as a viewless arrow on the wing, and having obtained a considerable ele- vation above its pursuers, bore away, in mea- sured flight, directly over the heads of the squire and his lady charge, towards the towers of Barnadiston Castle. " 'Tis a stout winged bird, my noble lady,"" cried the squire, gazing with the deliglU of a keen sportsman on the passing heron, " and full of natural craft ; 'tis wonderful the instinct that God hath o^iven to his creatures towards the preservation of life. Yon blue-tinged bird, my n6ble lady, directetli his flight towards the turrets of your castle, witli good cause and wise judgment; in a few moments you shall see him, surrounded by a mob of loquacious jackdaws, issuing forth from their creviced abodes amidst BARNADISTON. b9 the time-worn towers of Barnadiston, and the flio-ht of the noble falcons shall be much im- peded by the noisy daws, who will summon their cawing brethren of the trees to annoy the tyrants of the sl