LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 823 W522a v.l Digitized by the Internet Arciiive in 2010 witii funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/aliciadelacyhist01west ALICIA DE LACY ; AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE. VOL. L ^a3 TT was suggested to the Author of " The Loyalists," soon after the publication of that work, that where the plan of com- bining history with fiction was adopted, it was better to date the story in those re- mote times, the transactions of which not being minutely recorded, would admit the introduction of ideal circumstances. It was further hinted, that the manners of romance were more calculated for such a mixture of fable and reality than those which are appropriated to the modern novel. In deference to the judgment of those who have the best opportunities of knowing the public taste, these suggest- ions have been in the present instance at* VOL. I. a ( vi ) tended to ; but the work commenced under many disadvantages. Beside some, which, if stated, might suggest the inquiry- why it was undertaken at all, the neces- sity of gaining whatever information could be collected concerning the period treated of, has subjected the author to much dry reading, which has, perhaps, operated as a check upon the imagination, already cir- cumscribed by having chosen a conspi- cuous personage for the leading character. Another difficulty originated in being per- haps too scrupulously solicitous of limit- ing the departures from history to the introduction of supposed occurrences, without disguising well-known facts, or misrepresenting those persons who have acted a distinguished part on the theatre of life. If it be asked why, in the full perception of these difficulties, a real per- sonage was chosen for the hero? the answer is, because a greater degree of in- terest may obviously be excited for such ( vii ) a character than for one wholly imagi- nary. Whatever objections may be maae (and certainly there are many) against the lawfulness of thus bringing out an old worthy in masquerade, it is presumed they will not be strongly urged by the admirers of Shakespeare's historical plays; or of Marmion, the Lady of the Lake, and many other justly popular poems; or even of the epics of Homer and Virgil, which have delighted every age, by giving enlarged portraits of those whose miniatures only were exhibited by history. It may surely then be pre- mised, that the majority will, from principle, ^yarmly defend this licence as claimed by poetry, and by these the prose fabulist may probably be heard with favour, while urging a claim to the same liberty of building fiction on the basis of truth, and making past heroes and he- roines talk in the language of common jife, as they have long been allowed to do a 2 ( vlii ) in couplets and blank verse. This liberty must however depend on the keeping of character being properly observed; for certainly real personages, as far as their qualities and actions are clearly known and generally admitted, should have their likenesses retained with fidelity in every fabulous adventure in which they are in- troduced y especially if they have acquired much historical celebrity. Beside this homage to identity, which is due to the real personages of former times, the manners and costume of those times should be attended to, as far as they are ascertained. By giving to a hero of the dark ages the improved taste, the liberal sentiments, the refined benevolence, or the enlarged policy of the present day, we may please those who read without reflection ; but surely critical acumen will scrutinize our labours as it would a pic- ture, which should exhibit the contend- ing goddesses of Mount Ida assembled at ( ix ) a card-table, and Paris looking at them through an opera-glass. Historical ve- rity is equally violated by the philoso- phizing, generous, placable heroes of Ossian, to whom, in an age and country of savage barbarism, a gentleness of cha- racter and an elevation of sentiment are ascribed, which we shall in vain seek in the most improved periods of moral civi- lization. And it may be worth while to divest ourselves of national prejudice, and ask if those novelists have been correct who have copied the portraits of their feudal barons from those amorous knights whom a taste, formed on the soft Italian model at the revival of literature, intro- duced as the courtiers of Arthur and Charlemagne, many ages after the knights of the Round Table and the warlike Pala- dins had mouldered into dust. History describes the English barons of the era of the Plantagenets as chiefly characterized by a strong passion for frea- a 3 ( X ) dom, or rather for the maintenance of their 6wn independence and privileges ; a scrupulous attention to the forms of re- ligion, combined with disdain of papal usurpations, and, it must be added, little observance of that spirit of charity and forbearance, which we rightly consider as the essential fruits of piety ; invincible har- dihood, inflexible pride, cherished en- mity, impatience of superiority, and dis- regard of the lives or the feelings of those vassals whom they alternately defended as their property, or sacrificed to their ambition. To these qualities must be added the lofty manners of chivalry, and a tenacious regard to an erroneous prin- ciple of honour, to which the tender feel- ings, and sometimes also the vindictive passions, were made subordinate. We have few data by which we can judge of their private lives j but reasoning from what we do know,' we must conclude this compound could never make refined ( xi ) lovers nor very tender husbands. Is it not probable that, like all his other pas- sions, the love of the English baron was impetuous, determined, and arbitrary, though sincere and constant ? The man- ners of chivalry were dignified rather than supplicatory. He who ran a tilt for his lady's heart would not consider the wo- man whom he won by his lance as pos- sessed of a superiority over a lover who, by his mode of courtship, shewed her weakness and his power of defending her. If in these times of comparative justice and decorum the weaker sex looks up to man for protection, what must it have done when law, scarce defined and often interpreteted by partial or inadequate judges, found its feeble operations sus- pended or impeded by the contentions of barons opposed to each other; by the predatory attacks of powerful bands of outlaws ; by contests between the King and his peers j or by foreign invasions ? ( xli ) In such a state of society, woman could not assert the empire of beauty ; and a reference to the cotemporary chroniclers exhibits her chiefly as the owner or de- fender of castles : in the 6ne instance as an object of competition, in the other of admiration; as passing her youth in a convent, till marriage gave her a protec- tor; and as seeking the same place of refuge when widowhood left her desti- tute. If she appears in the diversions of the age, let it be remembered that those diversions v/ere chiefly of a martial and athletic kind. Women so circumstanced and so amused were as little likely to be won by the refinements of modern senti- ment, as their lovers were unsuited to that style of courtship. In what is confessedly a new attempt, an often-favoured author approaches the bar of public taste with the fears of an adventurer in an unknown department of literature, and solicits indulgence rather ( xlli ) . than anticipates celebrity. Unconscious of those self-supported claims which can give a new impetus to public taste, the lovers in the following pages are only a little less absorbed by the tender passion than their cotemporaries in circulating- libraries usually are. The professed an- tiquary will often find the author tripping; and she craves his mercy by saying, that in this attempt to exhibit a resemblance of past ages, she has taken considerable pains to avoid misleading the general reader, but does not hope she can stand the scrutiny of the deeply learned. There is a distinction between erudition and those violations of historical facts and erroneous associations of times and habits, which shock our preconceived ideas of men and manners. The character of the hero having been left ambiguous by contradictory state- ments, the author felt at liberty to assign hirn such motives of action as best suited ( xir ) her plan. The heroine's is re-cast 5 fof which deviation from the author's own rules she pleads, that though Aliciade Lacy was a real personage, little is said of her ; and the extraordinary conduct by which alone her name is sated from oblivion, is made to suit 'her imaginary likeness, by a fiction which, though romantic, the an- nals of those times shews to be not impro- bable. It is hoped that the historical no- tices subjoined will not be considered as an affectation of reading, which, in an age of such general information, would be at once presumptuous and ridiculous. They are designed to save the enlightened reader the trouble of reference, and to prevent the juvenile one from so con- founding the Lancaster of romance and the Lancaster of history, as to become as warm an advocate for the purity of his motives, as was the female Quixote for the decorum of the Empress Julia. It is hoped that a delineation of the ( XV ) different effects of prosperity and adver- sity on a well-intentioned but infirm mind, may produce some moral impression, es- pecially on those whom parental indul- gence or the flattery of inferiors has in- duced to rank themselves too high in the scale of intellectual being. A precau- tionary hint is also given to thoughtless beauty, to deter her from considering domestic happiness as a toy, which she may toss away and regain at pleasure. Enough having been said in the cha- racter of Prologue *' to insinuate the plot into the boxes," it is time Bayes should retreat, and' order the Dramatis Persons on the stage. March 7th, 1814. ALICIA DE LACY. CHAPTER I. tC How many a chief, whose busy mm De Lacy is so connected with public transactions, that we must here recall to the reader's memory the extraordinary ascendancy which Pierce Gaveston, a handsome, lively, brave, accomplished, but unprincipled, frivolous, and ambitious Gascon, had obtained over the indolent heir of the renowned Edward the First. Like his illustrious descendant, Harry of Monmouth, Edward of Carnarvoa had been led by the dissolute companions of his youth, into unprincely extravagant actions, but unlike " King Hal, that royal imp of fame,'* the errors of the stripling adhered to the man, and the sovereign f seemed to reign less for the benefit of his people than for the enrich- menl and gratification of the dissolute cabal by whom he had been seduced and degraded. For the trespass of breaking into the park^ and killing the deer of the Bishop of Litchfield, Edward, whil^ Prince of Wales, had been committed to (7 ) prison by the intrepid judges of his in- flexible father, who not only prohibited the course of justice from being inter- rupted in his son's favour, but sentenced his associates, and particularly Gaveston, his prime seducer, to perpetual banish- ment. On his death-bed, among other solemn injunctions, the late King com- manded hij successor never to recall a man whom experience proved to possess a sovereign sway over his inclinations, and who had perverted the heart whose natural propensities were good and amiable, had they been united to a better understand- ing, or happily placed under the control of a more determined will. To insure a point on which the dying King foresaw that the future welfare of the kingdom depended, he obliged several of the prin- cipal barons to swear they would resist Gaveston's recall to court. Vain were all these precautions : before the hallowed remains of the great Edward rested with B 4 ( 8 ) , his ancestors, Gaveston returned, not privately, but, as it were, in triumph over all that was respectable in England; over the breathless warrior who had interdicted him from setting his foot in the land he had, when living, governed with wisdom and glory ^ over those fundamental laws which forbade to a foreigner the power and emoluments that Gaveston had the audacity to demand ; over public opinion, which was decidedly hostile to the corrupter of the young Prince ; over the honour of the nobles bound by solemn mj unctions to resist his return ; and, lastly, over the filial piety and reputation of his unfortunate besotted patron. Nor had banishment (though attended by so many ignominious circumstances that it might have been called transportation) altered the character of Gaveston. Gay, young, vain and impetuous, he forgot the lessons adversity taught during some ( 9 ) years of mortification and shame. His friend had now ascended the throne ; and in the reign of a monarch only twenty-two years of age, he foresaw a long festival of pleasure, and a rich harvest of honours and profits. Proud of his influence over a prince who publicly met him on his return, embraced him, and immediately appointed him to those high offices which were part of the chartered rights of several antient barons, Gaveston insulted the high-minded, warlike, but rough unlet- tered nobles who formed the hereditary guardians of the throne of England. Contempt was a mode of treatment to which these powerful peers were unac- customed. Even the warlike Edward,, highly respectable as his great victories and fine qualities made him to his sub- jects, never permitted the warmth of his temper to hurry him into unguarded language to any of his peers, without re- penting the imprudent sally, and endea- S5 ( I^ ) vouring to heal the breach by speedy conciliation. Insult from a foreigner, a Gascon, a demi-Frenchman, a person so inferior to themselves in birth, that it was doubtful whether his father had ever been allowed to wear the spurs of honour, while it was known that his mother had been degraded by a judicial accusation of sorcery, was intolerable to the Lacys, the Bohuns, the Fitzallans, and the Warrens of old times. Many of these boasted that the blood of antient kings ran in theif reins, others were royally allied, having' married the nieces, sisters, or daughters of monarchs. Edward of Carnarvon found, at the commencement of his reign, that he must either again part with Ga- veston, or expose the nation to the horrors of civil war. The sceptre of peace was a burden to his indolent hand, and it was wholly tmfit to grasp the warrior's truncheon. A compromise was therefore soon adopted, and Gaveston was sent into ( " ) Ireland, where he was permitted to exer- cise sovereign authority, and for a time was serviceable in subduing the rebellious by his bravery, and introducing the re- finements of polished life among the rude natives. But the toils of honourable ambition could not long occupy a perverted mind, which languished for the pleasures of a court, and the ease and enjoyment an- nexed to a residence in a country where the habits of society were formed, and established laws rendered persons and property comparatively secure. Neither absence, nor the beauty and graces of Isabella of France, his young queen, had alienated the heart of Edward from his favourite ; he soon recalled him, and un- der the offensive pretext of rewarding his services, he was so imprudent as to espouse him to his niece the Princess of Gloucester, and to institute a tournament in honour of his marriage and return j b6 ( 12 ) absurdly hoping, that in the hurry of preparation^ and the zest of martial con^- petition, the barons would overlook the presence of the man, who they had swx)rn should remain in exile, the im- pertinent who had personally offended them, the seducer of their present prince, and the unprincipled debauchee, whom their late sovereign had pointed out with the severity of perpetual malediction. Such were the circumstances which drew the Earl of Lincoln frt)m his castle. Few noblemen had a larger interest in the welfare of the nation, thus endan- gered by the folly and caprice of the King, and the presumption and audacity of his favourite. Beside, the earldom of Lincoln, and its dependant lands and castles which he possessed in his own right, his wife, the Lady Margaret, was grandaughter and heiress of "William Longspee, Earl of Salisbury, grandson of Henry the second, and the beautiful un- ( '3 ) happily celebrated Rosamond CliiFord. On her mother's side Margaret claimed her descent from those mighty Earls of Chester, whom William of Normandy fixed as counts palatine in that province, to resist the incursions of the Welsh, and endowed with powers more nearly ap- proaching to royalty than any other of his barons. The marriage of the Earl and Countess of Lincoln had been pro- ductive of a numerous issue ; but the sons had successively withered and fallen from their parent stock : one male heir alone remained, a boy of ten years of age, the only individual v/ho prevented the three united earldoms from becoming the dowry of their daughter the Lady Alicia, who had just completed the age of eighteen. To preserve this son the Countess of Lincoln adopted those precautions which her own character and the superstitions ©f that age suggested. Beside placing ( u ) ev^ery guard which the most watchful anxiety could prompt around the darling youth, she weaned herself by a continual round of devotional exercises. Her piety was both active and passive, stimulating her to pilgrimages and offerings at the shrine of every saint whom she believed possessed influence in heaven, on account of some miracle lately wrought in favour of a faithful suppliant, and also to found- ing chauntries fur priests, and receiving palmers and crusaders with a liberal hos- pitality, to which the ascetic severity of her own life was a marked contrast. She constantly wore sackcloth under her robes of state, fasted till nature almost sunk under continued privations, told her beads with unswerving punctuality, and attended the distribution of the daily largesses bestowed at her gates on men- dicants of all descriptions. Sir William of Walsingham, the lovely boy for whom these her cares and good works were to ( x5 ) procure length of days and prosperity, was no ordinary child ; beside having that premature acuteness and ripeness of intel- lect which falls to the share of all children who are born to splendid prospects, and which (as in the present times) were at- tested by sagacious dependants, and cre- dited by doating parents, this heir of the houses of Lacy and Longspee had been given to the prayers of his mother by our Lady of Walsingham, near to whose mi- raculous image he was born on the vigil of Saint Nicholas, the protector of chil- dren. A combination of such wonderful circumstances inconceivably endeared him to the superstitious Countess, who, solely devoted to his preservation, left her only daughter to accompany her father in his field sports, or to waste her leisure in the dangerous society of mercenary, low- minded dependants, listening to their de- signing flattery, or studying those false allurements by which capricious beauty ( i6 ) tries to improve the masterly work of nature, though the bounteous goddess, alike intelligent and revengeful, always contrives that the fantastic grace, thus surreptitiously introduced, shall obscure or destroy some portion of native love- liness. The beauty of Alicia de Lacy was of that description, which, whenever it appears, commands admiration. It was also accompanied by those intuitive graces which render a fine form irre- sistible, and every accomplishment the age afforded was her own. Native genius supplied the want of study, to which in truth her volatile genius would not have easily submitted ; nor were the inherent qualities of her understanding and heart inferior to the choice workmanship of the external casket ; and had the same pains been taken to cultivate and improve, as were unfortunately employed to corrode and canker them, by vanity, caprice, and self-love, a poet would almost have been ( 17 ) justified In rating her value at the price of " a world made up of one entire and perfect chrysolite." Still she continued lovely ; bewitchingly though fantastically gay ; the happy child of prosperous for- tune ; the darling of her doating father, who lavishly indulged all her desires ; the theme of every travelling minstrel, and the amoret of every son of chivalry whom the Earl of Lincoln entertained in his castles. Lady Margaret saw nothing in this blooming efflorescence of sportive na- ture, but a creature lost in the pleasures of sense, and devoted to a world which would soon mortally sting the heart which its fascinations had corrupted. Had her own inclinations been gratified, she would herself have passed her days in a cloister ; for she had witnessed the so- lemn ceremony of the young Princess Mafy, daughter to Edward the First, and thirteen other ladies of noble birth, taking ( 18 ) the veil, at the same time, in the monas- tery of Amesbury, to which Eleanora of Provence, widow of Henry the Third, had long ago retired. The affecting sight of a princess renouncing all sub- lunary delights, disrobing her person of every vestige of earthly pomp, meekly severing from her brow those graceful tresses, at once the ornament and shade of loveliness, breaking from the arms of the mighty King of England, her affec- tionate father, and bidding an eternal adieu to that world in which she had found nothing but pleasure and admira- tion ; consecrating her future days to lonely piety and silent contemplation j while her aged grandmother, exulting at the voluntary sacrifice, called the fair victim, and her attendant votresses, to find with her that peace and resignation in a cell which a court could not afford : this singular and affecting scene, com- bined with the solemn music, and mag» ( 19 ) nificent display, by which the church of Rome elevates the devotion, and dis- perses the sighs of professed recluses, so wrought on the sombre mind of Lady Margaret, that she resolved to imitate the example she so passionately admired. The death of her only brother proved an insurmountable obstacle to her design ; she was now no longer an individual re- sponsible only to herself for her conduct, but the medium by wfiich the combined inheritances of the Earls of Salisbury and Chester must be conveyed to posterity ; marriage, therefore, was to her a neces- sary sacrament, and she entered into that estate, with the hope of having daughters, whom she might, in her stead, consecrate to heaven. It was, therefore, grievously adverse to her wishes, that her lord, to heal an ancient feud between their houses, betrothed his Alicia, at the early age of nine years, to John Earl of Warren and Surrey, the grandson and heir of that ( 20 ) potent baron, who had more than once made the late King retrace the. steps that seemed to lead to the establishment of a despotic government. CHAP. 11. Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon ii dangerously. Shakspeari. \\[ E must now return to Humphrey Lackington, whom we left in wrathful -dudgeon at his lord's unex- pected departure, shaking his head ia significant condolence at those irrational objects of his care, who he believed sympathized in his disappointment ; and feeling his occupation gone as well as theirs, Humphrey left the stable-yard, and wandered into the forsaken guard-room, not without hope of finding suilicient re- mains of the parting feast to raise his dejected spirits, and enable him to endure the combined evils of solitude and inac- tion. Having fucceeded in filling his can. ( 22 ) he raked up the glowing embers that were scattered on the ample hearth, and sat down to indulge his splenetic regrets, to which the present silence, contrasted with the noisy merriment usually prevalent in that apartment, was singularly propi- tious. But silence was soon scared away by the appearance of one of its most irre- concilable adversaries, Mabel Peverell,the venerable nurse of Lady Margaret. The private chronicles of the De Lacy family have never been subjected to mortal eyes, till happily rescued from obscurity by the writer of this narrative, who begs leave to blend them, as often as occasion requires, with testimony more universally known and accredited: these faithful registers speak largely of the fidelity, obedience, and other virtues of this aged dependant. From some circumstances, however, ,it may be inferred, that though a devotee, she waB not of the Carthusian order, a ( 23 ) cheerful repast and a long story had pe<- cuh'ar claims to her favour ; good hu- mour smoothed the ravages of time in her countenance, and benevolence prer vented his icy hand from congealing her heart. Beside these perhaps singular excel- lences, she possessed the usual properties of uneducated old age. Not only did she dive into futurity with Sybil-like pre- cision, but her supernatural discernment enabled her to discover a hidden mystery in passing events, impervious to any but her " gifted eye y" and though con- tinually wrong in her predictions and dis- coveries, she still required that her ora* cular guesses should be received with implicit deference. Such was the good old nurse who joined Humphrey in the guard-room, and after reproving him for finding fault with any thing his lord chose to do, she informed him that she had found out the real modve for his (24 ) hasty departure. The medium of this discovery was a dream with which she bad been favoured by Saint Audrey. She had repeated ten Paternosters and fifty Ave-Maries that . her dear Lady Alicia might have a good husband in- stead of Lord Surrey, whom she did not like, and at last the gracious Saint had shewn her the man, who would discover himself to the Lord Lincoln, at the tournament at Wallingford. His name was not vouchsafed, but the, lilies on his coat of mail pointed him out to be no other than the Duke of Normandy, brother to Queen Isabella, and heir to the crown of France. Humphrey's impatience now got the better of his politeness, and he told his companion she dealt in as many false- hoods as an Iceland story-teller. The Lady Alicia was betrothed; and the Duke of Normandy had already got a wife ; she must therefore pray again to ( 25 ) Saint Audrey for a dream more likely to be realized. Mabel nodded her head significantly ; *^ You are a faithless man, Humphrey," said she, " but I hav^e seen stranger things come to pass in my day. If the Duke had an hundred wives, and each of them brought him a hundred kingdoms, it would be worth his while to get rid of them all to marry our sweet lady ; and as to her contract to the Lord Surrey, tell me nothing more of a man who never cares about the loveliest creature in all England, but flies around the country with wicked wantons, and lives near her father's castle without coming to see how the rose of beauty opens, which he just consents to put in his bosom to secure the debatable lands that rhe Warrens and Lacies used to fight about. " 'Tis forty-and-six years liumphrey," continued Mabel, ^' since I wa^ taken from my little cottage at Wimborn to VOL. I. c ( 26 ) suckle Lady Margaret. Her mother died in child-bed, and they sought for a healthy nurse among their own vassals, I thought sore luck was my portion when they took me from my family, for my husband went with the great Earl William to the holy wars, where he was slain, and my baby di@d from neglect ; but Father Ambrose has told me that those who die fighting against Saracens go straight to paradise without passing through purgatory, and that my little Mabel is a cherub playing on a golden harp ; and so, long vsince I grew contented, and loved Lady Margaret as well as if she were my own daughter ; and a good lady she has been to me, pro- viding me food and raiment in my old age, which perhaps I might have wanted if my husband and child had been alive." Humphrey felt his ill humour gradually give way to the humble resignation of his companion. " 'Tis right in you to be contented;" said he, " but I don't believe 5 ( 27 ) Father Ambrose knows what passes in paradise, nor that he will ever get there to see." " Hush, for your life," returned Mabel. " If the Father hears you, you will be whipped for a heretic ; and though he is now gone with my lady to Saint "Winifred's shrine, things come out so strangely, I do believe he has a familiar who tells him all that passes in the castle." " He deals with the devil, I make no doubt," answered Humphrey ; '^ and I have thought so ever since he ordered black Lent to be kept at the warder's table, and sent Lord Surrey *s player-men to prison, because they came to act mysteries after Candlemas." Mabel turned pale, crossed herself, and lifted up her hands, protesting against the impiety of finding fault with the Countess's ghostly father, though in her heart she joined in the huntsman's displeasure. *' I should be loth," said she, " to bear c 2 ( 28 ) testimony against thee, but 'tis a wise saying, ' when the church fears, walls have ears/ and before we open our minds to each other, let us look that there are no listeners crouching under the sumpter boards.'* A diligent search convinced Mabel that they had no corporeal wit- nesses ; and, to fortify their spirits against supernatural inquisitors, she proposed to replenish the can, while Humphrey laid on another faggot. The genial warmth inspired confidence ; the light blaze they were well assured drove off goblins and fairies; and as copious^a flood of detraction issued forth as ever circulated in steward's room or servants* hall. Humphrey con- fessed the incursions his lord allowed him to make on the manorial rights of his neighbours ; and Mabel, while she lamented the wearisome austerity of Lady Margaret, endeavoured to prove it a virtue, confessing it made all who ap- proached her miserable, yet doubted not ( -9 ) she would hereafter be canonized as a saint. Lady Alicia was still allowed to be a sweet tempered creature, very generous, very affable, and only a little thoughtless. But after the principals were thus leniently treated, the remainder of the family exhibited a degrading assemblage of the worst specimens of human nature. Hum- phrey explained how his lord was pillaged in every department, but that which he superintended. Mabel deplored the idle- ness, extravagance, and coquetry of the damsels, so different from the happy pro- priety of young women in her early days, when, from mattins to vespers, every hand laboured for its master's profit, and not an eye wandered from its task, except to look at the holy rood, or sometimes at a lover. " Here," said she, " is Beatrice, daughter to the seneschal of Canford Castle ; she has gained the favour of Lady Alicia, and is more our mistress than her c ^ ^ 3° ) ladyship. She dresses every day in cloth of gold, and puts precious stones in her hair, giving it out that her grandfather was a knight, when I know he was not worth half a hide of land. All our bet- ter born pages go in their holiday trim for her, and she tosses up her head, for- sooth, and speaks to none of them, saying she will be a lady baroness. , She is all for mirth and mummery, and never sets a stitch in the tapestry, except just when the Lady-countess is in the arras-room. Then there's Dorcas, her employ is mak- ing dumb cakes, and tying girdles round the bed-posts to dream of her sweet-heart, while I trot about from morning to night to keep every body honest, and prevent our being again disgraced as we were by that wicked Agatha." Humphrey reminded Mabel that he was absent when that business broke out, and begged complete information. , « Mercy !" returned, Mabel, " 'tis a ( 3' ) long story, and will require more breath than I can well spare, and I must after the girls, whom I left dancing a galiard for joy that they have got the castle to themselves." Humphrey proposed to cut short the tale, but IMabel thought that to omit any circumstance would spoil it ; she therefore agreed, as it was a saint's day, to let the lasses divert themselves a little longer. The fire was again renewed, the can replenished, the hour-glass turned, and Mabel commenced her history. To relieve the fears of the reader, we will avoid the circumlocutions with which the old nurse thought fit to embellish the extraordinary incidents that attended the introduction and disgrace of Agatha, and relate whatever is important to this history with all possible brevity. The exercises and privations of ascetic devotion were to a great degree here- ditary in Lady Margaret's family, and they in some measure arose from a mis- c 4 ( 32 ) guided though pious wish to atone for the incontinence, and give rest to the troubled spirits of their royal ancestor and his Rose of the World. The grand- father of the Countess of Lincohi, im- bibing a persuasion that nothing less than the dedication of his own life would be sufficient, took the cross, in opposition to the will of his sovereign, Henry the Third, and despising the threatened forfeiture of his estates, went to the holy land with St. Louis of France. He performed several astonishing acts of valour ; and at the battle of Damietta died defending the person of that prince,a little before he was taken prisoner by the Saracens. To have shed his blood in the defence of a christian king and canonized saint, on the conse- crated soil of Palestine, and in the cause of religion, rendered the memory of this William Longspee peculiarly dear to his descendants. The family-minstrels com- posed ballads in his praise ^ and every 1 ( 33 ) , incident respecting his adventures was noted in the domestic archives with a co- pious industry, more intent on colleding much, than on paying due respect to truth and probability. Among these cir- cumstances was recorded the attachment of a fair Saracen who fell in love with the Earl, on seeing him from the walls of a city he was besieging, introduced herself to his tent as a pa^e, and finally, (for the morals of crusaders were less strict than their manners,) bore him a son, whom the bloody infidels, as the issue of a blaspheming Frank, doomed to perish, with its miserable mother, in a cavern. The Earl of Salisbury, gaining information of this cruelty, hastened to the spot, with irresistible strength removed the stone that closed the entrance, penetrated the gloomy vault, and in its deepest recess discovered his mistress and her infant. He arrived too late to save life, for the spirits of both were on the wing, but in C5 C 34 ) tlm^ to administer the sacred rite of bap- tism. Collecting in his helmet the drops that trickled down the sides of the cavern, he sprinkled the faces of the expiring lady and her offspring, the former be- having like Tasso*s Clorinda, on receiving the sacred rite from Tancred : Soon as his lips pronounced the words of grace, A smile celestial brightened on her face. Clasping her babe to her bosom with one hand, she stretched the other to take a crucifix from her lover, and having kissed it, in token of obedience, expired. The grief and despair of Salisbury must be left to imagination. He had, however, what he conceived certain assurances of having performed an acceptable deed, for on the night previous to the battle in which he v/as slain, he saw a vision, disclosing to his view the Moorish lady and her son in glory. Lady Margaret firmly believed this ( 35 ) legend, and in her orisons always remem- bered the soul of the fair Agatha, which was the baptismal name bestowed on the dying convert. It has already been men- tioned, that it was her constant practice to attend the eleemosynary distributions at her gates. It chanced one day her at- tention was peculiarly attracted by a woman of foreign aspect and habit, who held an infant in her arms. Supposing her to be a pilgrim from a distant country, and therefore in need of more liberal aid, she called her to come near, and in the features of the child recognized those of her own Alicia. So extraordinary and complete was the resemblance, that she was persuaded it was a trick played to amuse ner, nor would she, till her own daughter was shewn to her asleep in her cradle, be satisfied that it was only a like- ness, and not the same. On questioning the stranger, she told a romantic tale, fitted in every circum- f6 ( 3S ; Stance to work on the credulity and piety of Lady Margaret ; and to convince her that this girl was the issue of Agatha's son, supposed to have perished in the cavern with his mother, a long history was fabricated of the boy's preservation, a piece of a sword used by Earl William at Damietta was produced, together with a lock of his hair, and the very crucifix he had given to his expiring convert* Lady Margaret believed every syllable, embraced the infant, as a relique rescued from her grandfather's grave, and per- mitted the woman who brought it to depart, on the pretence of being bound by a vow to offer an oblation to Saint Cuth^ berg, the sacred protectress of the house of Longspee, as soon as she had delivered her charge to its representative. Various were the opinions to which the introduction of this girl gave rise. Some with ^the Countess, believed it was brought by an angel, and so far the 4 C 37 ) opinion appeared plausible, as the stran- ger was never seen to kneel at the shrine of Saint Cuthberg, nor did any inhabitant of Wimborn or its vicinity meet a person who answered her descrip- tion. There have been sceptics in all ages, and never, perhaps, were they more numerous than when a corrupted reli- gion deem.ed it expedient to support, an ambitious hierarchy by lying miracles. Several of the household, and the Earl of Lincoln himself, believed the tale to be the fabrication of an itinerant courte- zan who wished to foist her illegitimate offspring on the protection of the chari- table Countess. In confirmation of this opinion it was suggested that this woman, with a Moorish complexion, had English features, and that her language fell, rather affectedly than naturally, into a foreign idiom. A broken sword and a crucifix might easily be picked up, and these transmitted relics bore no other ( 38 ) mark of their belonging to the Earl of Salisbury than his initials, coarsely scratched, and evidently done by a work- man too unskilful to be in the suite of the noble crusader. As to the lock of hair, though dipped in blood, it was no proof of identity. The only evidence worth regarding was the resemblance of the girl to Alicia, but this might be acci- dental, and testified no stronger claim to the Longspee than to the De Lacy family. This opinion, accompanied by angry remonstrances, from the Earl to the Countess, at thus allowing herself to be the dupe of every impostor, did not deter her from fulfilling her resolution of educating this child as the descendant of her grandfather, and giving to her a portion of her hereditary possessions. Resistance being ineffectual, De Lacy- yielded to the folly he could not correct^ and the young Agatha became the chosea ( 39 ) companion of Lady Alicia, partaking of every instruction which the manners of the age afforded to women of the highest rank. Being considered as one of the family, she was admitted to a knowledge of all its secrets, was taught to rehearse the domestic legends, allowed to read the rent-rolls, converse with the vassals, assume the state, and exercise the autho- rity of De Lacy's daughter. " A favourite has no friends/* Agatha's conduct was narrowly watched by all who secretly envied her greatness. As a stranger, she \v2iS an object of dis- like to an household, composed, as was the case in feudal times, of remote kin- dred or hereditary retainers. Her beauty and talents rendered her still more ob- noxious ; and Agatha, instead of adopt- ing that conciliatory gentleness which might have disarmed malice, and changed hatred, at least, into endurance, triumphed in her good fortune, and boasted of be- ( 40 ) ing the dispenser of the Countesses fa- vour. Every member of the family seemed bound in an implied contract, to overthrow her tyranny, to which act they believed]^ themselves stimulated by their zeal for Lady Alicia, whom they sup- posed to be neglected for this renegade changeling. It was soon' discovered that though puncmal in every routine of prayer and penance, Agatha's private conduct did not correspond with her ex- terior strictness ; an amour with one of the men at arms was detected, the fact of criminal levity brought home, and Lady Margaret, not less inflexible in ier severity than warm in her attachments, felt no compassion for the frailty of seven- teen, but rejected with high disdain the Earl's proposal to bestow a small dower and marry her to her seducer. Her sen- tence was a life of monastic seclusion in a nunnery of the strictest order, where she was to be treated as a guilty wretch^ ( 41 ) and dally taunted with her crime. Such a doom to a young impassioned girl was sufficiently alarming, but the Countess spoke of a seven years' penance, which was to prepare her for this scene of holi- ness and peace. Its immediate nature she did not define, but she spoke of it as terrible ; and Agatha was torn, wildly shrieking, from those knees which had often supported her with more than ma- ternal fondness. The wretched girl, finding intreaty vain, summoned a spirit at once revengeful and impious, and breaking from her guard, tore from her bosom the supposed paternal crucifix which she had been permitted to wear as a relique ; then invoking the sacred Being it commemorated, she denounced the Countess of Lincoln and all her descendants with the most diabolical maledictions, wishing she might descend to her grave without child or friend to close her eyes. Then, turning to the ( 42 ) terrified Alicia, who was brought to wit- ness this scene as a warning against the indulgence of unwarrantable passions, she imprecated on her guiltless head every pang a wife or mother could feel. Having done this, she dashed the crucifix on the floor, and, smiling on her perse- cutor with that vindictive derision which spoke a mind capable of enduring and inflicting torment, submitted to her fate. Such was the tale on which Mabel dilated with alternate pity, indignation, and horror. No one, she said, knew where the wretched girl was disposed, but the immediate effect of this scene on Lady Alicia's poignant feelings was alarm- ing ; for some days her life was in danger, and the superstitious Countess, believing the malediction already operative, re- doubled her prayers and works of piety, being assured by Father Ambrose, that this v/as the only way to mitigate its in- fluence. ( 43 ) " 'Tis strange," said Humphrey, *' they did not prefer forgiving the poor girl, and marrying her to her gallant, so making the best of a bad business. Had I been our Lady Countess, I would have made her turn her curses into bless- ings, and then sat down to a good din- ner in comfort." Mabel answered, " We people of low degree are no judges of what passes in the minds of high nobles : I have seen them when every one was trying to please them, and there was plenty of holiday cheer, and music, and mummers, and all the heart could desire ; yet they were sighing, and scolding, and looking dis- contented, which makes me think they are somehow made of different kind of stuff, for they don't talk like us, or feel the same wants and wishes." " That may be," replied Humphrey, *' yet are they the same flesh and blood ; and never were two roses more alike ( 44 ) than Agatha and our Lady Alicia; I have often doffed my cap and bent my knee to one of them, and then the other has passed me laughing, and I knew not which was. which.'* Mabel was indignant at a confession which she thought injurious to the super- lative charms of her dear lady. " Though I pity the poor girl," said she, " heaven pardon me if it is a sin, Agatha was no more to be compared to our lovely crea- ture, than the moon at midnight to the sun at noon-day. 'Tis true, they were of thfe same size, and their voices and features were just alike ; and my Lady Margaret suffered her darling to wear embroidered mantles, and broaches, and jewels like Lady Alicia, who had a right to put them on, being a betrothed maiden. Yet, when you looked at their eyes, or watched their behaviour, you saw the difference. For one had a cunning, im- pudent leer, and the other was all open» ( 45 ) hearted kindness, I knew them by theu' step too. Bounce went Agatha, all pride and haughtiness, sweeping her train, and tossing her head Hke a peacock on a May-morning. Lightly glided sweet Alicia, just as one should fancy a gra- cious angel coming to cure a sick infant. It was only those who look at fine clothes and outward beauty, that did not know one from the other. I could distinguish them even by the air with which they passed the cup beyond my lord's board- end at the banquet, and spoke to the poor frightened vassals." Humphrey now reverted to his favou- rite theme, the abuse of Father Ambrose, wondering how his reverence made it out that Agatha was worse than Rosamond Clifford, or the holy Lord Salisbury, whom he held in such high estimation. Tvlabel could give no other explanation than that poor people must not presume to imitate the actions of their superiors, ( 46 ) but content themselves with just doing their duty and holding their tongues. At the same time she drew an inference from Agatha's incontinence, that the Countess and Father Ambrose had dis- covered her to be an impostor, and there- fore subjected to the severe jurisdiction that great feudal lords still exercised over their vassals, concluding with hoping that the pious Countess's prayers would keep all dangerous effects of this curse from the Lady Alicia. C -47 ) CHAP. III. And how should I know your true love, From. many anoth-;r one ? O by his cockle hat, and staff. And by his sandal shoone, But chiefly by his face and mien. Perct, npHE conversation between the nurse and huntsman had been prolonged, during a wet November evening, till the warder closed the inner gates of the castle- yard, and the bell at the adjacent con- vent summoned the monks to vespers ; when Lady Alicia's damsels rushed into the guard-room, in terrified haste, pro- testing the castle was beset by thieves or evil spirits, having seen from the plat- form a number of figures approach the gates. Humphrey treated their report as the coinage of female apprehension. ( 48 ) apt to convert waving alders into ban- ditti, when a bugle-horn was blown ai: the draw-bridge, and they heard the warder engaged in a parley. Some des- perate outlaws, the general refuse of troops raised for hostile inroads, infested the central parts of Yorkshire, and were the terror, not only of travellers, but of the humbler and more detached inhabi- tants. Lady Alicia and her maidens soon converted this rencontre at the gate into an attack from these marauders, but Humphrey observed that robbers sel- dom sounded an alarm before they commenced their outrages, and that pil- hging a few yeomen's houses and farms was very different from attacking Pontc- fract castle. The warder now relieved their fears by stating that the summons came from some noble pilgrims, whose suite being too numerous to be entertained at the convent, thus applied to the hospitality ( 49 ) of the Earl, and the piety of the Countess of Lincoln, for a night's refreshment ; the great swell of the rivers, and the dis- turbed state of the country, rendering it unsafe for them to proceed on their jour- ney. Father Nicholas, a worthy Capu- chin from the monastery, was with them, and vouched for the truth of this repre- sentation. Very different feelings arose in the minds of the auditors at this account. Mabel doubted whether the state of the larder and buttery would allow such entertainments as would do credit to the Earl of Lincoln's house-keeping ; and Lady Alicia appre- liended there would be an impropriety in receiving strangers during the absence of her father and mother ; but Beatrice and the rest of her suite, delighted at an inci- dent that interrupted the secluded state of their unvaried lives, eagerly voted for their admission, silencing Alicia's scru- ples, by observing, that no act would be VOL. I. D ( 50 ) snore acceptable than this to the pious Countess ; and as to Mabel's apprehen- sions of the want of suitable fare, a cor- dial and graceful welcome would, if their guests were really the noble personages they pretended to be, supply the place of dainty viands. High-born courtesy was soon satisfied ; knights were bound by an oath to, strict moderation ; as pil- grims, they were accustomed to coarse fare ; and shelter from rain, and protec- tion from robbers, were solid comforts even if combined with lenten food. While the draw-bridge was lowering, €very hand within the castle was busy in preparation ; and the menials exerted themselves so well, that the great hall, with its blazing fire and huge wax-tapers, presented a comfortable aspect to the storm-beaten guests, who consisted of four knights, as many esquires, and the same number of pages of honour. Be- side the escallop-shell on their hats, each ( 51 ) bore on his right arm a white cross, signi- ficant of their being bound to Palestine. Declining the offer of dry suits from De Lacy's wardrobe, they spoke of the dis- comfiture of the evening, merely as the commencement of many perilous achieve- ments, and with the indifference of men, who, though accustomed to luxurious gratifications, were ever ready to submit to privations. In conformity to the cere- mony always practised by her mother, Alicia now entered, with her train of ladies, bearing napkins and ewers to wash the feet of the guests. She stopped at the knight, who by advancing to meet her, seemed to be the principal, and dropping on one knee, with decorous courtesy, poured water into the silver vase, and invited him to a refreshment which, as it was the custom of those times to offer, it was equally the punctilio of the guest to decline. On the present occasion, the pilgrim seemed less adroit D 2 LIBRARY C J2 ) at raising and complimenting the kneel- ing beauty, than accorded with the highly refined gallantry of chivalry ; but one of his companions, indignant at his delay, pressed forward, and, with one hand taking off his hat, with the other raised the Lady, then prostrating himself before her, kissed the spot where she had knelt, and again retired behind his associates. The action seemed a sudden impulse ; it was momentary ; but Alicia caught a glance of a noble figure, an expressive countenance, and an air super- e^piinently graceful. Her eyes followed this knight with an attention which made her, in her turn, unobservant of the elaborate praise with which she was now addressed, by the person to whom she had paid the compliment of superiority. Meantime the board was covered with wine, manchets, and confections, ihe re- tainers of De Lacy's household took their stations in the hall, and the minstrels. ( 53 ) •rranged In the gallery, thus welcomed the strangers to hospitable safety : The Pilgrim in his amice gray^ And aged Palmer, travel worn. Benighted in their tedious way, Stop at the chapelage to pray. Oh! Virgin, pity our dismay. And speed the blessed morn. They hear the solemn passing-bell, A soul's departure speak -j Fast drives the sleet, yet round the dellj. Responding signals echoing tell, Tkat, issuing from their covert cell, «^ Their prey the outlaws seek. And still the Pilgrims drop their beads, And closely grasp the holy rood ; When hark, the sound of tramphng steeds, Fast toward the chapelage it leads, And soon a dreadful cry succeeds, " Spare but our lives ye men of blood !" But gaily at this awful hour. We pour the wine of ruby die ; ^ 3 ( 54 ) High rises our embattled tower. Impervious to the sleety shower^ The felon outlaw's desperate power. Scans it with hopeless eye. Full largely be the bowl supplied. And pledge it to De Lacy's name ; The chief who stood at Edward's side. And with his faulchion battle dyed. By Dee, by Jordan, and by Clyde, Asserted England's fame. The knight who had hitherto acted as leader of the company, led Alicia to the iSiair of state, and placed himself by her side. The rest arranged themselves ac- cording to their rank, and the- presence of the young damsels added beauty and vivacity to the repast. The pilgrims, with their cloaks and staves, seemed to lay aside the melancholy sanctity of their appearance, and to converse like men of the present world. One only was ex- cepted 5 the knight who so gallantly ( 55 :> raised Alicia from her knees : he remain- ed wrapped in his cloak, his hat flapped over his face, and his eyes fixed on the ground, either silent or conversing at short intervals with Father Nicholas, who was next him, respecting the most cele- brated shrines and relics, which they should visit on their way to Jerusalem, It generally happens that anxiety to please increases in proportion to the ill success of our efforts. Alicia's attention was fixed on the behaviour of this ab- stracted guest, whom she rightly supposed bound by a vow, not unfrequent in ihoi^e days, to reserve and abstinence. His com- panions paid him a visible deference, which convinced her that he was really the greater personage, while the pilgrim on her right hand borrov;ed temporary rank for the occasion. She was impatient for the time of separation, as that v/ould allow her to address her guests indivi- dually, without departing from . the de-- D 4 ( S6 ) corous delicacy which marked the de- meanourof high-borndamsels. The turret- bell announced the hour of midnight ; Alicia rose with her suite, lifted the golden cup to her lips, and addressed to the circle the parting good-night of pious hospitality. Then moving round the board, she repeated, to each her wishes, that the holy virgin and blessed saints would speed their journey, and safely restore them to their native country. The melancholy pilgrim raised, his bon- net as she accosted him, and once more discovered the benign majesty of his striking countenance. " Had my father,'* said Alicia, " hap- pily been -at his castle, to supply what my unskilful youth has, I fear, omitted for your entertainment, I flatter my- self. Sir Knight, the hours would not have passed so heavily as I perceive they have done. Yet will I trust to that courtesy which ever attends the true ( 57 ) nablllty which your demeanour testifier,, to pardon a simple maid who is a stranger to courtly manners. Will you believe her heart is innocent of those neglects your well-instructed eye must have dis- covered ? and if you report any thing of Alicia de Lacy, say she designed no oflfence to those who honoured her father by seeking the shelter of his roof*'* The stranger's eyes were fixed on Alicia, while she spoke, with such re- spectful, but soul-searching observation, as soon made h^ withdraw her timid glances, and suffused her cheek with blushes, while, with breathless agitation, she hurried over the speech she had been fabricating the whole evening. She hesi- tated, paysed, and he answered in a voice that to her " seemed a trumpet with a silver sound." " If, Lady, amid the severe restrictions to which I am bound, I sometimes re- gale my thoughts with the retrospect of ^ S ( 58 ) your goodness, a sense of my own un- worthiness will embitter the remem- brance, unless you will also promise to make gracious allowances for that infir- mity which deadens the faculties of the soul, and closes every avenue to delight. There is a sadness, as I too strongly ex- perience at this moment, which even the accents of a pitying angel cannot dispel/' " You speak of infirmity," replied •Alicia, whose susceptible heai t instanta- neously melted at the idea of suffering. " If disease afHicts you, I cannot allow you to depart till rest, and the prescrip- tions of our skilful herbalist have re- moved your malady,- and fitted you for your journey." " The disease of the soul," answered the stranger, " mocks all sanatives but those adminiJ^tered by the Great Physi- cian. My woes, .Lady, are beyond thy art to heal, unless (for worth like thine 6 (' 59 ) must have interest with heaven) thy prayers can call down a blessing on this distracted kingdom ; restoring unity and wisdom to her counsels, and success to her arms." *^ My orisons,'* replied the lady, "shall be more frequent, since you request them 5 . but will it be a breach of courtesy to ask the name of him who thus gives me credit for deserts which my parents never found in one whom they only call a well-inten- tioned girl ? I ask it, Sir, because, with my prayers for England, 1 would blend petitions for the preservation of that patriot who must be so essential to her prosperity.'* The stranger drew from his finger a ring, which he presented to the lady, say- ing, " The Earl of Lincoln will recog- nize this token, as an endeared pledge from a compatriot, binding him to his oath to Edward the Great, and confirm- D 6 ( 6o ) ing his resolution of preserving the Inde- pendance of his country." " You have put the ring," said Alicia, with a bhishing smile, " on the same finger with the pledge of my contract to Lord Surrey. Will he also recognize you by this token ?" *' Happy Surrey!" replied the stranger; and Alicia fancied he sighed as he spoke ; *' yet, if he acts as a faithful, determined patriot, he will be worthy such a re- ward." Alicia felt it difficult to continue the conversation. The knight cast his eyes on the ground, folded his cloak around him, and again drew his hat over his brow ; at the same moment the other guests rose, the seneschal called for lights; Alicia and her ladies waved their hands in a final adieu, and the company retired to their respective apartments. Silence did not reign in that appropri- ( <5i ) ate J to the lady. Whether there really was something superior as well as mysterious in the melancholy knight, or whether, with handm?iid-like humility of judgment, Alicia's eyes served as a cynosure to guide the judgment of her damsels, they joined in praising this wonderful unknown, who, they agreed, must be the principal knight, since the rest attended all his signals, and, when he put on his hat, broke off the conversation, and called for lights. One of the women observed he was of royal blood ; for the grooms had whis- pered her, that the arms of Plantagenet were on the housings of his saddle, quar- tered Vv'ith lilies. Mabel recognized this as the future husband of her lady, whom St. Audrey had shewn her, and blessed the kind saint, exclaiming, " He is the Duke of Normandy, come in disguise to see our lady's beauty, before he. wears her colours at Wallingford tournament.'* " He is not very gallant for a lover,'^ ( 62 ) said Beatrice, who seemed the only ex-- ception to this ccncert of eulogists, "^ and he travels with an odd apparatus ; for, as he put the ring on my lady's finger, I discovered that he carried an agate urn under his cloak.'' *' O !" interrupted Dorcas^ " certainly he is some faithful lover^ that has lost his true mistress, and it is on that account he is so melancholy, and not because the King is misled by Pierce Gaveston." Alicia, who had hitherto remained si- lent, now interrupted the conversation. *^ You, ladies," said she, ^' seemed to find your companions lively ; did you not also find them communicative? Surely, while so much gay raillery passed among you, some unguarded words must have dropped, which would enable sagacity to discover to whose suite they belonged.'* The damsels endeavoured to recollect, but all which their united remembrance could furnish, was no more than that their ( 63 ) guests were actively employed in the Scottish wars, and had now left the Norih, in consequence of an armistice lately agreed upon between Robert Bruce, the valiant defender of his count y'o independ- ance, and the King of England. This clue furnished Alicia with a sub- jec: for meditation during some sleepless hours, till she at length discovered a nobleman who had a right to the armo- rial bearings of the French and English monarchs, and also had taken a distin- guished part in the warfare lately main- tained in the border-countries. This was Thomas Earl of Lancaster, grandson of Henry the Third, by his second son Ed- mund, on whom the coarse phraseology of the age bestowed the name of Crouch- back, as they did that of Longshanks on his brother, who so royally wore the EngHsh crown. The mother of the Earl of Lancaster was Blanch of Artois, Dow- ager Queen of Navarre, sprung from the ( «4 ) Kings of France, an4 consequently nearly allied to the young Queen Isabella. Ali- cia had heard the Earl of Lancaster de- scribed as a man who rather reflected honour on, than derived honour from his princely birth. Blessed with great per- sonal talents and accomplishments ; edu- cated at the university of Padua in all li- beral learning; solemn, yet prepossessing; a warrior and a patriot ; dignified and courteous, rather than gay and gallant in his behaviour to ladies :. in fine, a man on whom England turned a longing eye; and, glancing from him to their present sovereign, wished that it could be proved that " some night-tripping fairy had ex- changed the children as they lay." Com- bining these circumstances, Alicia rather wondered how she happened not to dis- cover her guest the preceding evening, than to doubt the certainty of her present conclusion. But that treasured urn carried by him* ( 65 ) ■ self, and clasped to his heart, his determi- nation of visiting Palestine, his melan- choly, too deep, she thought, for the lofty- tone of a patriot's sorrow, with romantic enthusiasm common to inexperienced youth, she supposed mast proceed from grief for a lost love. She examined her two rings by the watch-light : that of her espousals, received from Surrey, was en- riched with tv/o heart-shaped rubies, link- ed by a diamond chain. This she now thought a trite and ungallant device. Love should be the free reward of faithful ser- vice or high desert ; but Surrey, depend- ing on the compulsory nature of a pre- mature contract, held her, like a re- claimed falcon, allowing her only a short space to try her wings, with the power of drawing her back whenever he thought fit. Nine years had elapsed since her fa- ther betrothed her to this Earl. She re- membered little about the transaction, ex- cept that she was terrified, and cried wheii ( 66 ) she was told she must be his wife ; and consented to the union only as a prefer- able alternative to passing her days in a cloister, to which her mother, then rich in the possession of several children, wished to allure her, by describing it as a resi- dence that afforded the finest music and the greatest plenty of conserves. Even at that age she ^thought it would be plea* santer to be mistress of several fine castles j to ride on a white palfry, covered with silver trappings j to dance whenever she pleased ; to hunt and hawk with a train of fair ladies ; and to sit under a canopy of state, listening to minstrels and stage- players. She was willing to be called Lord Surrey's wife, — any body's wife, — ■ who would afford her these gratifications; for, except the melting diapason of the vesper-hymn, and the little hoard of sweetmeats which the kind nuns gave her in the refectory when she visited con- vents with the Lady Countess, she had C 67 ) seen too many splenetic -humours and un- necessary mortifications attached to a rou- tine of formal devotion, to think of con- secrating herself to that monastic life, which, however it mighi prove a quiet harbour to the shipwrecked hopes of age, appeared like a dungeon to the anticipa- tions and energies of youth. Alicia remembered, that at the time of their espousals Lord Surrey was hand- some, gay, richly dressed, expert at dan- cing and riding at the ring, liberal in his largesses, and tolerably happy in his style of compliment ; yet he uttered no senti- ment half so expressive as what was im- plied in the request that she would be a mediatrix for the peace of England. In manual activity and personal grace he was far exceeded by Guy de Beauchamp, the young Earl of Warwick, her father's ward, and, in all probability, by many also of the practised gallants of the court. It was unfortunate (supposing she really (68 ) possessed that super-eminent loveliness and worth which all her father's dependants, and now this enlightened stranger, as- cribed to her,) that her premature con- tract precluded her from making a free, and probably happier choice. The flut- ter of vanity thus mixed with the sigh of regret, till, at the approach of day, she fell into a light slumber, in which the lilies of France and the lions of Plantagenet were confusedly blended with the pil- grim's cockle-shell and the crusader's cross, lovers in disguise, and bloody Sa- racens. Her reverie (for so it might be called, rather than a dream,) was dissipated by the early appearance of Dorcas. '' Gracious lady," said she, " pardon my intrusion, but I come to announce a wonderful dis- covery. There is, by the favour of St, Guthberg, a holy relic, now in this castle, which if you do but secure, we shall all be as happy as our hearts can wish.,** ( 69 ) Alicia permitted Dorcas to explain. " When your ladyship," said she, " dis- missed us, Sybil and I declared we could not sleep for thinking what was in the urn which Beatrice saw under the silent knight's cloak, So we walked in the cor- ridor, and talked about it ; and Sybil told me it might be a pickled evil spirit, brought from the Red Sea. At last we saw a light in the chapel-window, and I* fell on my knees, supposing it had got out, and was making a bonfire of the mass- books; but Sybil said if she died she would peep in ; and there she saw the silent knight at confession to Father Ni- cholas. He was only in his hose and doublet, and she was sure he had no urn with him ; so says she, * Now is our time,' and we ran as fast as possible to his chamber, and there stood the urn sure enough. What does your ladyship think was in it ? Why, the heart of Saint Ro- salie, wrapped up in spices." ( 70 ) ^V How did you know It was Saint Rosalie's?'* inquired Alicia. " Because it smelt of roses. Has your ladyship forgot her story ? The wicked infidels commanded her to be burnt, only for being faithful to her true love ; and the fire was all changed to roses ; and the place goes by the name of the Field of Flowers ever since. So Saint Rosalie, when she died, ordered her heart to be embalmed, and gave it this blessing, that whoever touches it shall marry the very man they like best. I learnt this legend as soon as I could speak, and night and day it has been my prayer that I might but touch the heart of Saint Rosalie." From the deportment of her illustrious guest, Alicia did not suspect he would affix any peculiar value to such a wonder- working relic ; and the idea that it be- longed to some person connected with his own history, returned with no very pleas- ing reflections. It now occurred to her. ( 71 ) that though the laws of hospitality did not enjoin her attendance, it would be a graceful exercise of politeness to present the morning cup to the knights, and re- peat her good wishes at their departure. She summoned her attendants, and hast- ened into the hall for this purpose, but all were gone, except Friar Nicholas, who stood with his sandals braced, lean- ing on his staff, waiting only to give his benediction, and return to his convent. Alicia s'gnifled her wish for a private cor- ference, and he immediately attended her to her oratory. *' Have you committed any offence since the departure of Brother Am- brose?" inquired the Friar. '■' I know not,'* replied the Lady, " whether anxi- ous curiosity is a sin 5 and you, Father, must inform me if, by your holy office, you are required to enjoin me a penance, or relieve the painful solicitude I feel, by frankly telling me what you know of out ( 7^ ) unknown guest, and the contents of the urn so assiduously guarded, and yet kept from our observation." " Lady," replied the Friar, " the frankness of this inquiry is a proof that your anxiety has no affinity to what it would be sinful for a betrothed maiden to cherish. Your guests were, that illus- trious prince the Earl of Lancaster, his chamberlain Sir Robert Holland, Twhom, as he is now under a vow of penance, he requires should assume the state he him- ~ self declines, during his journey to the court,) and also his treasurer and secre- tary. These came to your castle, with their esquires and pages, but a long suite of grooms and yeomen were accom- modated by my poor brethren at the con- vent, who are unfurnished v»^ith means to entertain a prince of the blood royal," " And the u2-n ?" inquired Alicia. ** Contains the embalmed heart of our late I'evered sovereign, who, on his death- ( n ) bed bound his son, by an oath, to send it for interment to the church of the holy sepulchre at Jerusalem, together with thirty thousand crowns for the use of christian captives, and destitute pil- grims. Tlie King having neglected this duty, the Earl of Lancaster wishes to un- dertake it from respect to his uncle's me- mory, and the Scottish wars being now suspended, the pious general is going to the King, not to join in vain delights, but to adjure him to remember the pro- mise he made to his father, and to re- gard the salvation of his own soul." " Can you. Father," resumed Alicia, " tell me the cause of the Lord Lancas- ter's extraordinary reserve and melan- choly. My maidens persist in thinking such deep depression must proceed from love." The Friar raised his eyes from the ground, and fixed them on the conscious inquirer, who, blushing at her own dis- VOL. I. E ( 74 ) ijigenuity, avowed by her confusion, that the thought was her own. " I shrived the Lord Lancaster,'' re- turned Father Nicholas, " and may truly say I never had before me a peni- tent whose soul was so truly sanctified, and pure from the pollution of earthly passions. And, fair daughter, if in the deep regrets of a prince and patriot, for the loss of a worthy king, cut off ere his mature counsels were completed j and the corruption of him whom hereditary right now makes our sovereign ; — if the misery and degradation of a country lately the most glorious and happy in the world ; — if shame, at seeing our military glory tarnished j indignation, at behold- ing the most wise rules of policy aban- doned ; ample treasures wasted ; buf- foons, libertines, parasites, and tennis- players lifted over the head of our an- cient nobles; — if pity for those who suffer, and just resentment at those who ( 75 ) offend ; — If a perplexing consciousness of divided duty between the King, his cousin, and the misgoverned millions who, in this nation, look to some gene- rous leader to remedy their grievances ; — if all these causes are not enough to de- press the Earl of Lancaster, let us. Lady, conjure up some fair trifler, and say she has broken his stout heart with a killing frown." Alicia trembled at a reproof, the na- ture of which she well understood, and answered, " Father, you unmask my own littleness, but I will endeavour to be less of the fair trifler, and more of De Lacy's daughter. Yet, as I am bound to confess to you all my folly, answer me one more inquiry, and the Earl of Lan- caster shall be to me, what indeed he seems, a being of another world. Was he satisfied with the entertainment which unprovided haste willingly but poorly " pplied ? Said he any thing of my be- E 2 ( 76 ) havlour ? Did it appear to him weak and trifling ?" '^ Engrossed by cares and perplexities such as I have described, I question whether he noticed the order of your entertainment ; and, as to yourself, he viewed you as the Lord Surrey's wife, and prayed heaven to bless your espou- sals.'* " Yet one more question, Father; only one. Does he leave any lady to lament his loss when he sails from Eng- land ?'' " His mother Blanche of Artois still survives, and lives with his younger bro- ther, Henry, Earl of Leicester, in retired state at Kenilworth. There she cherishes, under her sacred protection, Madlda, daughter of Earl Maurice, who fell in his country's wars. The Lord Lancaster sees not in the large possessions or ex- traordinary beauty of this fair orphan, a charm to bind him to an earthly alliance* C 77 ) He goes to Palestine with a distant in- tention of entering a sacred order, and after having worshipped at the holy- sepulchre, as a pilgrim, to return as a Knight of Rhodes ; provided christian kings, laying aside their ungodly en- mity, shall unite to rescue Jerusalem from infidels, and his country can spare the services to which he feels she has the first claim." Alicia might still have proceeded with her " one more questions,*' but the pru- dent Friar diverted her interrogatories. *' I have thought it my duty, daughter," said he, " faithfully to relate what the confessional chair entitled me to know. When Lord Lancaster was told that our gracious founder, the Earl of Lin- coln, was gone to join the confederated barons, he said that concealment was no longer necessary, and allowed me to re- veal his name and the designs which he had suppressed, because they should not 2 3 C 78 ) be interrupted. 'Tis now my duty to impose the penance which thy too anxi- ous solicitude avows to be requisite. Heaven, Lady, is the only object re- specting which we cannot be too curious or too careful. 'Tis impossible to gain a too intimate acquaintance with its glories, nor can we be too studious respecting the means by which we may attain the enjoy- ment of them. Every virtue is a step which brings us nearer to its gates. Silence is a virtue : I enjoin thee not to mention Lord Lancaster's name to thy damsels, and if they shall assail thee with impru- dent discourse, tell them thou art bound to avoid the interdicted subject. Devote this day to seclusion, and employ thy re- tirement in answering the last epistle of Earl Surrey, thy betrothed Lord." " That will take but a short time," said Alicia, peevishly, " for it only contained an assurance that he was well. ( 79 ) and a description of his roan-charger and goss-hawk/' " The more scope will be left for fe- male wit, to fashion an ingenious reply. A barren text often gives birth to the most improving discourse, and should the composition want eloquence, it will have its use as a lesson of humility, and assist thee in subjugating a rebellious heart." Friar Nicholas retired as he spoke these words in an authoritative tone, and Alicia resolved on implicit obedience. But the fair reader will be disappointed who expects to be presented with a curious specimen of ancient literature, in the form of a love-letter, of the four- teenth century. Though Alicia posses- sed the then singular accomplishment of being able to write, her education had not furnished her with models to assist her in arranging smooth sentences, in which her heart had no concern* A let- E 4 ( 8o ) ter to the Earl of Surrey was a task which, once in three months, her con- fessor required her to perform, and though it seldom contained above six lines, it was like every other penance, slowly and reluctantly performed. She found the present dispatch the most dif- ficult she had ever penned. Even the style of address was perplexing. The phrase " My dear Lord," she could not tolerate. She tried " Noble Lord Sur- rey," and then doubted if the epithet was appropriate: " Gallant Earl" was worse, for certainly he gave no proof of gallantry, who left his bride unclaimed and unvisited, while, if report said true, many a wanton dame in England and Scotland, had laid successful snares for his truant inclinations. Was there any virtue, any discriminating quality which she could ascribe to him as a mark of peculiar distinction ? nothing else but that he was her contracted husband. ( 81 ) She tried how that superscription would look 'y disliked it, and then hoped fre- quent erasures had so injured the parch- ment, that writing on it was impracti- cable. " I will charge the messenger,'* said she to herself, " with a verbal assurance that I also am perfectly well ; and, by way of being very obliging, I will send my best Norway falcon to keep company with his goss-hawk. I shall have less time for those sports now, as I must re- member the Lord Lancaster's injunctions, to pray for the weal of England. I ought also to make him some return for his pre- sent of this ring, and I think the most proper will be to work him a banner. When he is created a knight of Rhodes, there can be no indecorum in giving him that mark of my attention. I would not impugn the high conceptions which he entertains of female delicacy. Let me recollect. Surely he permitted me to ^' 5 ( 82 ) keep this ring, which I was only to shew my father, as a pledge of recognizance.'* As she spoke, Alicia more minutely examined the ring given her by the Earl of Lancaster. It was a solid band of gold ; on the outside were engraven a rose and a branch of palm, and on the inside this motto, " Subdue thy own de- sires." The sentence thus combined V/ith the symbols of England and Idumea, or rather of patriotism and piety, spoke an imperative language, more effectual than the Friar's exhortation, to divert the lady's thoughts from subjects, dangerous to her peace and her fame. As the daughter of an illustrious English baron, as a candidate for immortality, how was she required to act ? Renouncing the indulgence of these querulous desires, those impossible combinations of every happy contingency imagination can form, was she not, as a patriot, to look forward to her country's welfare ; as a nobly ( 83 ) descended lady, to set a value on her own reputation ; and as a christian, to abide by engagements sacramentally formed ? Away, then, with every recollection of this noble pilgrim, inconsistent with the character of Surrey's wife : in that light alone he viewed her ; she would imitate such heroical subjection of personal de- sires, and write to Lord Surrey, as the monk enjoined her, in a more diffuse style, and perhaps she might be able to kindle in his bosom those sublime virtues, which (and not, she was sure, any per- sonal superiority) were the reasons why she thought so much of this Earl of Lan- caster, this Knight of Rhodes, she meant ; for it was in that character only she would contemplate him. This letter was at last, written m fluent language, but in an extraordiiiary 'rain of thought. She conjured her betrothed lord to imitate her father's example, and to second the efforts of the barons, to E 6 ( 84 ) drive from the realm the king's rapacious favourites, and to restore the glory of England. She alluded to the dying counsels of Edward the Great ; and she reminded the Earl of his grandfather's behaviour to that mighty monarch, who, on the King's making an illegal attempt at taxation, by requiring him to shew his title to the Warren lands, produced an ancient faulchion, and sternly said, " My ancestor, coming in with William the Bastard, won his lands with this sword, and with this I will defend them against any that would take them away, for that king did not conquer for himself alone, neither did my forefather resist him for that end.'* After directing Lord Surrey to the adoption of such rules of action, she added, that he would thereby induce her the more cheerfully to fulfil her vows. This letter breathing a degree of inteU ligence and enlarged feeling unusual to the sex and the youth of the writer, and ( 85 ) dlfFering so materially from the brief formal communications he had been ac- customed to receive, found the Earl of Surrey labouring under the disgust of satiety, incident to the completion of a licentious amour, and it roused him from the indifference he had ever felt for a fair infant, to whom he had betrothed him- self for the sake of peace, and from the same motive, had left unclaimed and dis- regarded. This letter seemed to exhibit her as a lady fit to superintend his house- hold, and reflect honour on the family she was called upon to perpetuate. He liked the spirit of her requiring from him, as a proof of gallantry, those duties to which, as a peer and patriot, he con- fessedly was bound ; and he felt a cu- riosity to see what change time had wrought in the child who trembled at the stem pressure of his mailed hand, and hid her face from the dark plumes which waved over his morion, when, in - ( 86 ) compliance with her father^s will^heph'ght- ed to her his troth in a suit of burnished armour. She now breathed the spirit of one of his ancestors, a Countess of Arundel, who reproved Henry the Third for his tmjust attempt to deprive her of a wealthy ward, saying to him, ** My Lord the King, why turn away your face from justice ? You are placed be- tween God and us, but you govern nei- ther for yourself nor us as you ought. Where are the liberties of England so often reduced to writing, so often grant- ed, and by you so often violated ? For this I, though a woman, with all your natural subjects, do appeal from you to the tribunal of God, the great and ter- rible judge, and let him avenge us." Admiring a disposition so congenial to the character of the stern nobles of that unsubdued age, and which he falsely supposed predominated in the mind of a tender maid, whom admiration (that ( 8; ) germ of love) had made a patriot, Sur- rey sent back the Lady Alicia's page with an assurance that he would immediately comply with her injunctions, and join the confederated barons, either to terrify the King into banishing Gaveston, or to resist the peculations and usurpations of his fa- vourites by force. As the King was des- titute of resources, either in his own firm- ness and judgment, or in arms and treasures, the struggle, he was persuaded, would be brief. As soon as it was ended he would claim his promised reward, for which he vowed he felt the impatience of a most ardent lover. Beside this billet, infinitely more Im- passioned than any she had ever received, the page was loaded with valuable proofs of Lord Surrey's love to his fair bride, and presents to engage the friendly offices of her attendants. The injunction of Friar Nicholas, commanding them to refrain from talking of Lord Lancas- ( 88 ) ter, had been very reluctantly obeyed by these damsels; but the liberality of the intended bridegroom reconciled them instantly to the interdiction, permitting them to apply those forcible but indefi- nite encomiums which youthful volubility loves to ascribe to some object, as the visible representation of its notions of ideal perfection. Forbidden to praise the Earl of Lancaster, they found, in the painted fans, gold combs, and velvet hoods, sent them by Lord Surrey, rea- sons why his name would as well accord with the harp of eulogy ; nay, better, for was not a generous lover, who promised to remove them speedily from the severe government of Lady Margaret, and the inquisitorial jurisdiction of Father Am- brose, a happier theme of praise than a melancholy, silent gentleman, whose man- ners promised a continuance of the same system of enmity to pleasure and relaxa- tion ? Put the chance pf the Lady Alicia's 3 ( 89 ) marrying Lord Lancaster, whom they saw she liked, or Lord Surrey, to whom she was contracted : with the former there was a prospect of the same routine of prayer, penance, and abstinence ; splendid banquets, gay minstrelsy, merry gambols, witty devices, rich ap- parel, and courteous knights, they had often heard, employed the joyous hours at Sandal castle ; and though Lord Sur- rey had hitherto been a remiss lover, he promised he would improve, and would come speedily and transport them, with their lady, to that fairy-land of enchant- ment, whose reported delights had often excited their wonder, envy, and regret. This happy manumission from their pre- sent bondage, was to them an amnesty for past neglects ; and they ardently hoped that their dearest lady would not impose such a probationary suspension of her smiles, as would defer her freedom and their own. Mabel, alone, continued ( 90 ) adverse to Alicla*s fulfilling a contract, which as she had not confirmed it since her days of adolescence, was not on her side absolutely compulsory ; but her re- spect for the declared opinion of Friar Nicholas, induced her to suppress all audible expressions of disapprobation. More inclined to look at Lancaster's ring than Surrey's magnificent suite of jewels, Alicia, in her hours of reflection, strove to frame her mind to act as duty should enjoin, and ^o discourage the hope which frequently arose in her bosom, that something would occur, honourably to acquit her of this premature engage* inent. C 9' ) CHAP. IV. I have liv'd To see inherited, my very wishes And buildings of my fancy ; only one thing Is wanting. SHAKESPE.\Rr. nPHE Earl of Lancaster, departing from Pontefract, first shaped his course to Kenilworth castle. That mag- nificent abode bestowed on his father by his royal grandsire, had been forfeited to the crown by the treason and death of Simon Montford, whose ambition and arrogance betrayed the cause of liberty which he had affected to support. With- in this stately pile the Queen of Navarre, her younget- son Henry, and her ward Matilda, then resided. Since the death of Earl Edmund, Queen Blanche, (who had been successively the wife of a feudal ( 92 ) sovereign and an English prince,) with- drew* from court, and devoted her days to works of piety and beneficence 5 the absence of her eldest son in the Scottish wars, giving her ample occupation in the care- of his estates, and in administering justice among his vassals. Thus, though the duty of feeding the destitute was not neglected, her assiduity and bounty were chiefly exercised in prevent- ing calamity, by encouraging the efforts of industry, and giving a spur to despon- dence. Such were her public occupa- tions; her domestic ones consisted in forming the minds of her son Henry, and of the fair orphan, whose wardship she solicited, not from motives of avarice, but the most liberal humanity. She be- held the infant Matilda friendless and beautiful, the heiress of a la^ge demesne, hated by the English, on account of her country, and apparently a ready prey to any baron whose avarice might tempt C 93 ) him to compass her ruin, under the de- ceitful guise of her guardian. To 'instil noble and virtuous principles into her soul, and at the same time to preserve her person from neglect, treachery, or the living death of an unworthy alliance, were objects well suited to the liberal mind of this royal lady. But when Matilda's charms and virtues ripened, the qualities she discovered, made her pro- tectress less disinterested ; generosity and pity changed into maternal affection, and it became the Queen of Navarre's dearest wish to be rewarded for the care she had bestowed on a ward, by the filial attentions of a daughter. The forfeited title and lands of Simon Montford were bequeathed by Earl Ed- mund, to his second son Henry. This young prince had for some years laboured under the severe pressure of bodily in- firmity, and the attentions which disease requires, were, when the numerous da- • ( 94 ) ties of his exemplary mother called her from his couch, chearfully supplied by the gentle, modest, compassionate Ma- tilda. The services which a young, beautiful female renders to an invalid, are aptly compared to the consolations of a ministering angel, in that lovely cha- racter Leicester contemplated his fair nurse, when in the most severe pa- roxysms of suffering; but every glimmer- ing ray of returning health discovered to him that life would be cheerless and unwelcome, unless it was passed with the sweet companion of his infant sports and youthful studies ; while Matilda, accustomed to behold him rather with pity for his misfortunes, and esteem for his patience, felt only a sister's love, and as she ministered to his w^nts, solaced herself with thinking that she thus proved her gratitude to her excellent guardian. The Earl of Lancaster was called by his father's deaths to fill important offices ( 95 ) in the state, while Matilda was in her early youth ; but the description of his fine qualities and deserved renown, (the darling theme of his enraptured mother,) presented to her mind a more attractive object of love and admiration, than the suffering, dejected Leicester ; and by the Queen's glowing description of this son of her hope, she early formed her ideas of whatever was great and amiable, while building on the prompt compliance with her desires she had ever experienced from him, she scrupled not to intimate to Matilda her design, that this saint-like hero should be her future husband. Thus a tender and compliant maid was early taught to feel an enthusiastic admi- ration for an illustrious unknown, to blush and tremble at the name of Lan- caster, and to believe herself identified with the glory of a man whom every one she conversed with held out as the first character of his age, A tender suscep- ( 96 ) . tibllity mingled itself with the high en^ thusiasm of this ideal love j and while she strove to imbibe every generous sentiment and graceful accomplishment, avowedly with the design of rendering herself a meet companion for Lancaster, she sighed to see the countenance of Lei- cester grow paler whenever she entered on his brother's praises, and great was her innocent wonder to discover that the subject was painful only from her tongue. Though the piety of the Earl of Lan« caster so far partook of bigotry as to engage him in a routine of those acts of mortification which seem incredible to the lukewarm devotion and luxurious habits of the present times, it was of a far more liberal stamp than that which, under the tutelage of Father Ambrose, soured the temper and contracted the heart of the Countess of Lincoln. He was rigidly just, an inflexible patriot, a bold sup- ( 97 ) porter of the independance of the national church ; and (the stern features of that age considered) he was compassionate and liberal. His filial piety corresponded with his strong sense of the obligations of religion. Though bound on an expedi- tion that required dispatch, he stopped by the way at Kenilworth, to receive his mother's blessing. The general of the northern army, and most potent prince of the blood, knelt, in the presence of all his vassals, while the widowed Queen gracefully and pathetically called down the choicest gifts of heaven on his head. She then took the urn, which was suspended from his neck, in her hands, and kissing it with due reverence to the memory of her noble kirfsman, described to her at- tentive auditory his shining qualities, as a warrior and legislator. AVe must not ask if Matilda listened to this eulogium; the question shall be answered by any delicate maiden, who, after such an ab- VOL. I. F ( 98 ) sence as may have obliterated recollec- tion, sees the man she believes herself destined to espouse, and suspends her hopes and fears while she inquires if he is as amiable as her fancy painted, and if he regards her with reciprocal admira- tion. While his attention was engrossed by filial reverence, she could look at the Earl unperceived, but when his courtesy- led him to address her first of the fair bevy that waited on the Queen's chair of state, her timid eyes fell upon the ground, and the deep tinge of her blushes almost ^crisped the auburn curls which sliaded her soft features. Queen Blanche was not so engrossed by her son, as to be un- observant of what passed in the heart of her young favourite. A just regard for the delicacy of her own sex, and a know- ledge of the capricious jealousy with which man flies from the maiden who presumes to interfere with his prerogative of free choice, determined her to an- ( 99 ) nounce Matilda to her son as the lady she should prefer for a daughter, and to probe his inclinations before she permit- ted those opportunities of free converse which might ripen the liking of fancy into the preference of love. Seated with Lancaster in her oriel, the Queen of Navarre, in a private confer- ence, expressed her disapprobation of his proposed pilgrimage. Highly as she re- vered her royal brother's memory, she observed, that the heart of a dead king was of less importance than the v/eal of a living one. Lancaster was the only man in England whom Edward respected enough to heed his displeasure : the purity of his character, and the dig- nity of his manners, preserved him from any adhesive reproach on account of those contemptuous epithets with which Gaveston perpetually assailed the royal ear, persuading the King to purchase an idiotic laugh and a paltry jest, at the ex- F 2 ( 100 ) pence of a powerful subject's fidelity and attachment. " It is true/', said sfie, " the daring Gascon called you stage-player, because you took on yourself the charac- ter of the holy Baptist, and in a morality, acted on the feast of his nativity, gave such wholesome counsel to the King, as suited the censorial manners of the saint. But the base epithet, so unworthily be- stowed, is never coupled with your name, even by the slander-loving vulgar, as the term Jew and usurer are with that of the Earl of Pembroke, or the wild boar of Arden is the synonyma of Warwick, on account of his insatiable love of field- sports. I mention this, perhaps, trivial circumstance, to imprest on your mind the importance of private character to all who step forward in public life, and to judge how highly you are estimated on this account by your country. The mul- titude, who in this particular commence judges of their superiors, consist very much of those whose actions, however vile and immoral, are, they know, con- cealed by their obscurity j while, with prying detraction, they blazon the faults of those who seek to be their leaders ; nor will they be grateful to the public services, or just to the talents of a chief who, by gross indulgencies or sordid propensities, sinks to the standard of their own vitiated morals. Go not, my son, from England, unless you know a peer whose escutcheon is as pure from attaint, and who is as well qualified by birth and intellectual endowments, to me- diate between an inconsiderate king and a discontented nation. " I have spoken," continued this noble lady, " as the widow of an English prince, and mother of one who stands but a few steps below that throne to which he is called to be a shield and a sword. I will now speak as Blanche of Artois to the son of her hopes, and bid thee look at F 3 ( 102 ) thy large inheritance, derived from the bounty of thy grandsires, and the deserts of thy father. Who beside thyself can support the banner of Lancaster ? The arm of Leicester, enfeebled by long dis- ease, presents no hope that he will be able to rear it in the camp, or, sit under its shade in the senate. A mother's desires respecting him terminate in the wish that she may close his eyes before imbecile age discharges her from the duty of mi- nistring to his infirmities. Must I then stand, like a tree lopped of its branches, one of them exscinded by the canker of disease, the other self-devoted, to con- sume a holocaust ? The consecrated or- ders of knighthood deserve the esteem of the Christian world ; but are thy uncle Edward, the lion-hearted Richard thy kinsman, or my canonized relative, Louis of France, less reverenced by^ mankind ? Were they less heroic, devout, and just than those grand masters of the Teutonic ( io3 ) order, those knights of Calatrdva, those Gerards de Provence, or Velasquez, who, previously devoted to the ministry of the altar, girded a sword on their white albs, and, by engrafting the soldier on the priest, connected chivalry with celibacy ? Wherefore, then, should their example stimulate thy imitation, rather than the social habits of our progenitors ? The duties we owe to God and man blend in sweet unison. Surely, my son, the hus- band and the father is not less a servant of Him whose power formed, and whose goodness sustains this visible world, than the anchorite in his hermitage, or the monk in his cloister. Is he likely to have less of the spirit of a Christian soldier who fights for the endeared ties of social charity, than he who, dissevered from the community he defends, has no warm appeals to his heart, no potent claims of participating interests to revive the occa- sionally torpid sense of duty, and prevent ^ 4 ( 104 ) justice from becoming inexorable, or ho- nour morose ? Marriage was pronounced honourable, and blessed four thousand years before Paul of Thebais discovered that it increased the misery of the militant church in a state of persecution. Patri- archs, prophets, and evangelists have been commended in holy writ for conducting their children in the paths of religion, be- fore our father the Pope decreed in his councils that Christian perfection is at- tained by abstaining from connubial vows j yet can that situation in life be most ap- proved by heayen, which may not be universally adopted without defeating the design of our creation ? Be you the ser- vant of God and of the common weal : defend the liberties of a people who look to you for protection. Preserve the splendor of a crown which may encircle your own brows or those of your poste- rity, to whom transmit your reputation, your example, and your possessions. ( 105 ) Leave pilgrimages and supererogatory vows to those whose secession from the world will occasion no lamentable void, to reprove them for leaving the watch-tower to a less faithful warder. Let decrepid age turn monk ; let imbe- cile dotards become wandering palmers ; but let Thomas of Lancaster brace on his armour, and say to the fathers and hus- bands who follow his red-rose banner, I have the same endeared interest in the welfare of England/* While the Queen spoke, Lancaster preserved a respectful silence. A variety of tender emotions were awakened in his mind ; and among the number, the for- bidden image of De Lacy's daughter, which his own important duties, and his knowledge of her engagements, alike re- quired him to banish. Yet, since his mother so frankly discovered her wishes, he conceived it incumbent on his filial duty to avow the sensibility which the f 5 (106) most fascinating beauty and engaging sympathy had unawares excited in a heart fortified by no common securities, yet still conscious of its deviations from prudence and rectitude, and resolved to break the chains it disdained. His answer to the Queen was respectful and candid. " When my gracious mother," said be, " speaks of me as a man selected by nature to take the lead in the state, she indulges rather the warmth of her affec- tions, than the solidity of her judgment j but I must not therefore forget that, with the talents Heaven has given me to call forth my gratitude, I have also rnany in- firmities and evil propensities, that require constant watchfulness ; and when I sup- plicate to be preserved from temptation, I admonish myself to avoid those situa- tions that would ripen the sinful principle in my soul. Neither abstinence nor prayer can wholly subdue my desires for human glory. I renounce it at matins 5 I pray I C 107 ) that my senses may be closed to ambi- tion ; to the irritable and vindictive feel- ings : but vi^hen I step from my closet, my heart vibrates to the sound of praise ; it is pained by neglect, or wounded by re- proach ; and at vespers 1 return to my oratory, with a conscience loaded with the offences I in ihe morning abjured. My feelings are too keen, my sense of injustice too acute, and my passions, when roused, too peremptory to allow me to walk discreetly in the crowded paths of public life : and so far from my relation to the crown pointing me out as one fit to stand forth as a leading statesman, it seems a call to retirement, since I am suf- ficiently near in blood to make my ac- tions suspicious to the King and the people ; perhaps, to excite aspiring wishes in my own mind. Yet, beside the expec- tations of issue from the King's marriage, his father's sons by Margaret of France are promising youths ; and the young F 6 ( io8 ) Earl of Gloucester, the heir of his eldest daughter, possesses virtues worthy of a crown. Of him, Madam, I could say, that in respect of birth, intellectual en- dowments, and unspotted fame, he is meet to stand as a reconciling mediator between the King and his people. In every thing but ardent love to my country I yield to Gilbert de Clare ; but the in- terest I take in its welfare is too lively to require a stimulant from connubial or paternal ties. " I will now answer your Grace as my mother. I have not, by rioting in Circe's court, contracted contempt for the sacrament of marriage ; but the nice- ness of my discrimination requires quali- ties in a wife which I have not hitherto discovered." The Earl faultered as he spoke, for he thought of Surrey's con- tracted bride. He resolved to forget her ; but his unswerving respect for ve- racity compelled him to be explicit : he ( 109 ) proceeded in evident confusion. ** To such personal beauty, noble birth, and gracious manners, as would allow her to sit among England's fairest dames without raising a blush on her husband's cheek, I also must have superadded, that elevation of mind which would satisfy me that my honour and happiness were safe in her care ; not from my watchfulness, but her own intuitive sense of propriety and firm discretion. As I am, most happily, fa- mous for my mother's virtues, if my wife's conduct aflforded a contrast for slander to discuss, my wounded pride would make me wretched. Shall I own that I have seen a woman whose manners answer this description ; whose correct education, and pious patriotic sentiments, accord with my own. But if I could forget that Eng- land seems on the eve of a civil war, I must remember that this high-born beauty is the right of another. Having made this confession to your Grace, which ( "o ) even my ghostly father knows not, you will urge me no further. In filial respect to your avowed wishes, I promise not to enter into engagements that will pro- scribe the ties of social life. Should my brother be restored to your devout prayers, you may then no longer object to my leaving England ; but preserving one son to sustain the banner of Lan- caster, allow me to indulge the peculiarity of my disposition, which is more fitted to plant the cross on the walls of Solyma, than to pursue a lady*s love through the labyrinth of her caprice and affected scorn 'y or even to endure, with wise for- bearance, those petulances and weaknesses which, one instance excepted, I have seen the common characterisdcs of women.'* The Queen of Navarre perceived that recent disappointment, and the mortifi- cation of a defeated General, increased her son's constitutional melancholy ; and sa- tisfied in his promise that he would con* ( ill ) tract no engagements that would insuper- ably bar her wishes, she resolved to wait the return of mental sunshine before she attempted to combat arguments, in which there was more of enthusiasm than soli- dity. She contented herself with saying, that if the Earl of Gloucester, or any other of his cotemporaries, submitted iheir hearts to as severe an ordeal, they would find themselves less qualified for those re- wards of enterprize which it was virtue to deserve, and glory to obtain. But as the preference which her son avowed for some most attractive but pre-engaged beauty, made the generous Blanche ap- prehensive for the peace of that young maiden, with whose affections she feared she had cruelly sported, she readily con- quered her desire for the long- estranged society of the darling of her hopes, and urged his speedy departure, that he might arrive at Wallingford in time to dis- suade the King from his ill-timed display of ( ^JE^ ) prodigality and partiality ; or, if that were impossible, to advise and moderate the proceedings of the Barons. Fearful that further intercourse might prevent the fair orphan from bringing to the wedded pro- tector those turbulent times would com- pel her to seek, the richest dower of an unalienated heart, she minutely watched the parting interview between Lancaster and Matilda. The firm adieu, the cold fraternal salute, the steady step, and eye quickly turned from the lovely maid to his armed retinue, which marked the de- meanor of the Earl, was contrasted by the blushing confusion, half indignant, half self-reproachful, of Matilda. But glancing from a countenance that inspired a confi- dence that pride would dissipate the illu- sions of fancy, the Queen looked to see how her drooping Henry supported this speedy separation from a brother whom he had long wished to clasp to his bosom. The joy and hope which flushed his faded 3 ( 113 ) cheek, as he alternately contemplated Lancaster's insensibility, and Matilda's consciousness of the inefficacy of her own charms, conveyed a pleasing hope to the mind of Blanche, which soothed her present disappointment,namely,that when the angel of death released her from ma- ternal cares, it was possible her attend- ance on her dependant Henry might be supplied by the connubial tenderness of a mind she had formed and trained to ac- tive piety. An indulgent recollection of her own youthful anxieties induced the Queen of Navarre to take an early opportunity of fortifying, by her frankness, the mind she had contributed to mislead. " Beloved of my soul," said she to Matilda, " I would not pain your delicacy, by ad- dressing you as the victim of unre- quited love ; but I must accuse my own presumptuous expectation of governing events, and the hope that I cherished of ( "4 ) being repaid for the cares I lavished on your youth, by the returns of your filial duty. These delusions led me to expa- tiate on a dangerous theme. Perhaps a mother's partiality may have rated your sensibility too high ; yet, even if your heart were bound as firmly as my own desired, I would say, blush not, sweet Matilda, to love Lancaster, while you be- lieved him free to love. Such a prefer- ence was only paying homage to that virtue which escaped the contagion of a luxurious court and profligate camp j and to that piety, which has guided his path in an age when heresy and schism have brought religion into disrepute. Providence, which successively depriv- ed me of two honoured lords, one, the contracted spouse of my youth, the other, the selected choice of my confirmed judgment, has destined the son of my hopes to become the victim of hopeless passion. "When he left KeniU ( "5 ) worth, your graces and virtues were closed in the bud of childhood ; and he is now rendered indifferent to their ex- panded loveliness, by a preference which the tone of his feelings makes me fear is insurmountable : yet, darling girl, in whom Providence supplies the want of a daughter to my hours of widowhood, add not to my self-reproach and disappoint- ment, the sharper anguish of seeing you suffer, with silent patience, a lasting re- gret, through the acknowledged vanity of my frustrated wishes. Permit me to hope, that though fancy may lan- guish for the image it has endowed with powers of fascination — though even judgment may predispose an unoc- cupied heart to revere the excellence which fame approves, — it is only en- dearing attentions, long indulged inti- macy, or confirmed habit, which can en- gender indissoluble love. Your days must not be doomed to repining single- ( "6 ) ness ; even Thomas Plantagenet, if cold to your worth, is undeserving such' a sacrifice/* Here Matilda threw herself at the Queen's feet, and eagerly inquired if her bold expectations were known to the Earl of Lancaster. " I would hide me in a nunnery/' said she, as her hands at- tempted to conceal her indignant blushes : ** never should the world, never should the Lord Lancaster behold the woman whom his lofty mind would despise for letting her presumption outrun his judg- ment." Queen Blanche soothed Matilda's apprehensions, by assuring her that no disclosure had taken place. " I knew,'* resumed she, " your strength of mind | would refuse the substitution of com- passion for affection; but let me fur- ther require, that, remembering the tes- tamentary councils of your father, you will not think of a monastic engagement, ( 1^7 ) which would counteract his disposal of your person. Your gentle virtues desig- nate you to adorn the mansion of do- mestic love ; as the social red-breast, who, grateful for kindness, enlivens with its bweet strains the roof under which it shelters, so in these turbulent times must the rich and friendless heiress, whom her fether*s will bars from a cloister, seek shelter from rapacity and tyranny under a husband's honourable protection/' Matilda listened to the counsels of her* royal friend, without believing them im- practicable : for while the Queen, with guarded delicacy, induced by her former precipitation, cautiously alluded to what might be the result if Leicester's restored health was granted to her prayers, the heart of her young friend was rather suf- fering from the inflictions of wounded de- licacy, than bleeding under the anguish of unrequited love. Though Blanche's maternal pride was somewhat wounded ( ii8 ) at Matilda's visible indifference to Lan- caster, which was intimated by her in- creased cheerfulness and alacrity, she re- joiced that though she had erred in trying to secure a compliant maid in the tram- mels of affection, before she knew whether lordly man would i:filinquish his valued right of choice to her decision, this error might possibly lead to an union more in- timately connected with her own domestic comfort. On the other hand, Matilda, satisfied that her virgin-pride had not been compromised, and deluded by the simplicity of inexperience, supposed she owed the increase of happiness which she so strongly felt, to being relieved from the near prospect of quitting her bene- factress, and engaging in new and untried duties. Though she had determined to fulfil the wishes of Queen Blanche, and even supposed herself engaged in honour to marry the Earl of Lancaster, she had lately conceived a strange idea that she ( "9 ) should be much happier in a single state. She had no predilection for a cloistered life ; she was not of an unsocial disposi- tion ; her heart was the genuine seat of gentle affections ; but her delicacy shrunk from forming any ties which would inter- fere with the cultivation of a very lively friendship she had formed with a gallant youth, of high birth and amiable man- ners, yet, certainly, not a lover j for he knew she was Lancaster's destined bride, and she nad enjoined him never to speak on a subject to which she must not listen. Ladies are often induced to apply to friendship as a solace for the disappoint- ments of love ; and in this instance Ma* tilda found it so eminently consolatory, that cheerfulness and content gave new lustre to every charm. < 120 ) CHAP. V. When ere from putrid courts foul vapours rose, SDark'ning the brightness that my beams difFus'd Around the throne, with vigorous wholesome galei The winds of Opposition fiercely blew. Thomson. _ t nPHE convocation at Ware was nu* merously attended by those Barons who, either from their large possessions or lofty spirits, most sorely felt the de- gradation of England, now governed by a low-born, unworthy foreigner, who ra- paciously engrossing her most valuable fiefs, left her to be despoiled by her an- tient enemies, or torn by intestine fac- tions. Beside the Earls of Lincoln and Surrey, here were assembled the two Mortimers, the young Earl of Warwick, Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, who had married the King's sister, and ( 121 ) Aylmer de Valance, Earl of Pembroke, descended from Isabella of Angouleme, widow of King John, by her second mar- riage ; yet amongst this illustrious synod, though many of its members were royal by descent or alliance, the mature years, inflexible integrity, and extensive influ- ence of the Earl of Lincoln, gave him precedence, and he was unanimously voted to the ofEce of moderator. Lord Surrey had a two-fold motive to acquire distinction. He was conscious that he had offended De Lacy by his in- difference to his daughter, whose affec- tions he designed to captivate, by that celebrity which is the ready road to the female heart ; at the same time that he conciliated the stern father, by his super- eminent display of patriotism. His elo- quence was commanding, but it was of. a nature more adapted to inflame the passions of his auditory, by a descrip- voL. :. <> ( 122 ) tion of their grievances, than to point out a course that would insure redress. He addressed the assembled lords as descendants and representatives of those Barons who had extorted the charter of liberty from King John, and repeatedly -compelled his son Henry to swear to the observance of that frequently violated compact. He compared the character of the latter King with that of the present j enumerating the miseries of that long in- glorious reign, and finding parallels to the odious Gaveston, in the foreign blood- suckers who exhausted the wealth of England when his grandsire feebly held the sceptre, and purchased the papal per- mission to oppress his subjects and break his vows, till the patrimony of St. Peter threatened to engross the fee-simple of the realm of Alfred. He spoke of the league formed against King Henry as noble and patriotic in its outset, but ren- dered disastrous by choosing for its leader ( 123 ) Simon de Montford, who restrained regal tyranny to render himself absolute ; courting the base populace, and offend- ing the nobles, till his haughtiness and injustice became yet more intolerable than the versatility and profusion of the King, whom he insolently shewed as his cap- tive, while he oppressed the nation in his name. Surrey next reminded them f with an oblique compliment to their venerable leader) of the true patriotism of the Earl of Gloucester, who, telling the English not to seek for a captain and a friend among aliens and demagogues, directed their eyes to Prince Edward, and, trust- ing to his courage and wisdom, freed him from his bonds, and gave efficiency to his cause. At the battle of Evesham the young hero regained the crown, which had been lost on the plains of Lewes ; and Henry (whom Montford cruelly ex- posed to all the dangers of that combat) was saved from the sword of a common G 2 ( 124 ) soldier, by the victorious piety of his son, who hearing him exclaim, " Do not kill me, I am Henry of "Winchester, thy so- vereign," rushed to his rescue, and, as De Montford fell at the same instant, re- stored him to life, liberty, and empire. " Thus," continued the Earl of Surrey, " commenced the public career of him who was our King,' our captain, our le- gislator, and our friend. His banner was displayed in Palestine, in Wales, in Scotland ; need I say it was every where triumphant. Need I describe his chas- tity, magnanimity, and temperance; his bravery in the field, or his foresight in council. Ye who, exulting in the re- nown of your Kingi felt yourselves en- nobled by his reputation, and • proud of being liege subjects to the first monarch of his time, do not require me to remind you, that, counselled by his father's er- rors, he became absolute only to conso- ' lidate his empire \ energetic in his mea- ( «25 ) sures, to secure the general difFusion of law and liberty ; at peace with his people, at war with his enemies. The Roman lion, which devoured our spiritual bene- fices, and roared for our temporalities during the two preceding reigns, suppli- cated to him with lamb-like meekness ; and if ever the royal loftiness of his na- ture led him to a momentary forgetful- ness of the cause of his greatness, his recollected wisdom instructed him to practise that princely condescension which won back the generous heart ere anger ripened into resistance. My grandsire's story attests this truth ; provoked by an illegal demand to use a brave liberty of language, he secured by his honesty the friendship of the King, whom he dared to resist ; and the sword to which he ap- pealed, as the arbiter of his rights, be- came his badge of command as gene- ralissimo in Scotland. Heroic princes estimate the worth of iheir subjects, not G 3 ( «26 ) by the implicitness but by the discrimina- tion of their obedience. Say, ye who were the captains and companions of this King, how will ye contrive to remind his son of his own vows and his father's glory? Who can now obtain an au- dience that is not an adept in the lan- guage of flattery ? On what subject will the ruler of this realm listen to us, except we tell him of some new device to steal from indolent greatness - every recollec- tion of its duties ? Shall we say univer- sal poverty withers the strenuous arm of industry ? The kingdom is ransacked to spread his board with luxuries ; he feasts to satiety and will not believe that others want. His wardrobe (or rather shall I say the wardrobe of the Gascon, through whose eyes he looks on England,) over- flows with embroidered vestments and gilded arms, and it is of no consequence that their last cloak is torn, by taxation, from the shoulders of the much^enduring ( «27 ) yeomen. Gaveston (for in this assembly 1 dare hardly call him Earl of Cornwall) is gay and happy, laughs loud, entertains the King with witty jests and antic mummery, with banquettings and tourna- ments, with mock battles and pageant triumphs, and who dares be miserable ? Will you, Lord Hereford, venture to say that the Welsh, so hardly subdued by our late sovereign, despise their country- man Edward of Carnarvon? disdain their subjection to degi*aded England, and search for some concealed descendant of their ancient dynasty, to break what they now deem a chain, though when cement- ed by a hero, it was esteemed a most honourable badge of distinction ? Will the Earl of Pembroke whisper to the King, that Robert Bruce has not only driven the English out of Scotland, but retaken those border fortresses which even the name of a royal Edward of England once made impregnable ? There G 4 ( »28 ) was a time when the stormy Orcades tr^aihled for their independance, scarce secured by seas which no keel could plough ; now our own Carlisle keeps a warder in its watch-tower, to see if it is menaced by a Scottish inroad ? Alas ! Gaveston has a gibe ready 5 he will say, Lord Pembroke's money-bags are suffi- cient to buy the whole realm of Cale- donia ; and the King will laughingly ask us for another benevolence to waste upon his inimitable companion. " Lords, you murmur. I will detain you only to point out those circum- stances of peculiar irritation, which will direct you to the only alternative ; if we would not endure disgrace from the King, as peers, or from the people, as betrayers of their rights. The early dissipation of our monarch is known ; an indulgent nation forgave the excesses of youth, but when in the capacity of sovereign, he despitefuliy and meanly remembered the ( 129 ) firm virtue of Walter de Langton, who had been his prosecutor, what hope could we have of one who wanted gene- rosity and justice to respect the cham- pion of those laws, that secure his crown? His father, when dying, bound him by an oath, never to recall his seducer : the royal corpse was not cold, ere, in breach of promise and defiance of de- cency, he rushed into his favourite's arms, and endowed him with a royal earldom, once most worthily held ; gave him to wife a Princess of Gloucester, and the free livery of the Isle of Man ! But those high-spirited islanders rejected so base a governor, and charmed by the splendour of personal reputation, they have given to Robert Bruce one of the outposts of England. Yes ! thoy have given their feudal crown to one who, had our great Edward survived :i little longer, would have been the faith- ful subject of England, and not its for- C ^30 ) midable enemy. Such an example fs worthy our consideration, for freemen are disgraced by being subject to an un- worthy governor. *' But this is not all ; to imprison a bishop, to revenge private injuries, to break his vows, to alienate the crown lands, to forfeit one of our fiefdoms, is not enough. That imperial circle which once bound the brows of Alfred and Saint Edward, which, on the head of William my Norman ancestor, flamed like a meteor in the eyes of France, and beaming on the crest of Cocur de Lion, pointed, in Palestine, to the triumphs of the cross j this contaminated crown, which it was my right to have carried, was borne by Gaveston, at the corona- tion of our besotted King. Was there no prince of the blood — was there not even an Englishman worthy of the sacred charre ? i saw the Earl of Lancaster weep ! It was the second time that I be- ( i3« ) held him in tears. The former instance was when standing by the death-bed of his uncle, he heard his dying charge, and received, on his knees, the hand of the Prince of Wales, who was enjoined to consider him as his first subject and best friend. Methiuks, mighty peers, this assembly might have expected that potent lord to have proved his claim to those titles, restraining this career of tyranny and prodigality by his counselsj or terminating it by his power. But, en« grossed by the toilsome routine of bigot- ted observances, Lancaster leaves us to seek a leader in some other baron, who, though more distant from the throne in affinity, shev/s Jess of the monk and more of the hero, and proves, . by his courage and his zeal, the true royalty of his descent/' Lord Surrey paused, leaving the nobles to draw their own conclusions,, who was this zealous and royally de- G 6 ( ^3^ ) scended patrior. The allusion to the Earl of Lancaster, called up the young Earl of Warwick, who bestowed on him those copious eulogiums which eager friendship delights to pour forth, assert- ing that he had, with scanty means and a discontented army, obtained an honour- able truce from the Scots, who, encou- raged by a monarch they adored, and inflamed to vindictive rage by the chas- tisements they had endured, harassed England with their predatory incursions, and even menaced such an invasion as would have torn from her the fairest of her northern counties. Reliance on the unblemished honour of the Earl of Lan- caster, had induced Bruce to suspend this inroad while he attempted to me- diate peace between the kingdoms. " He is now/* continued Warwick, *^ on his road to Wallingford for this purpose, and when he comes among us the monk ( ^3i ) will remedy those grievances which the hero has discovered." The elder Mortimer did not attend to Warwick's retort. Meditating a plan for his own advancement, he rose, say- ing the King had proved himself incor- rigible. His repeated perjuries and total want of royal qualities, taught his sub- jects to look for redress from themselves. England was not destitute of barons, who, by the wise government of their own seignories, shewed themselves fit to rule an empire; admitting that the kte King's issue, by his second mar- riage, the Earls of Kent and Norfolk, were too young to take* upon themselves the task of wielding the British sceptre ; that the Earl of Gloucester was too much attached to his uncle, and the Earl of Lancaster only a candidate for an heavenly crown — there might be found noblemen descended from English sove- reigns, noblemen, whose wealth and ( >34 ) power were equal to support a contest, and liberally reward those to whose friendship they owed their elevation. In this number he included himself; but he directed his discourse to the Earl of Hereford, reminding him that he was father to a king's grandson, and, as one of the lords marchers of Wales, had, like himself, the command of an army, and thus could collect a formidable array without giving a premature alarm to the King by its equipment. Hereford bluntly answered, that he was too old to barter his conscience and his independance for a stone-chair, and a crown cf thorns. He had been admitted into the privacies of royalty, had seen the- concealed side of its state-hangings, and knew that doubt and anguish wrung the King's heart, while the baron jocundly sported, and the peasant carolled over his spade. Nature, he was aware, never meant him either for a prince or a re^ ( ^35 ) gent ; he was satisfied with her handy- work, and would not mar it by attempt- ing improvement. The Earl of Lincoln then rose ; age and experience had calmed his impetuo- sity without abating his patriotism. He was an actor in the wars talked of by Lord Surrey, haying accompanied his captive. King Henry the Third, when he was led in triumph, by Leicester, round the kingdom, to witness the miseries re- sulting from his mal-administration, or rather from the bloody commotions caused by resistance to his misrule. The sight of v/asted fields, depopulated towns, and destitute mendicants, so indelibly im- pressed De Lacy's mind, that though he felt all the indignation Surrey so fluently expressed, and had as little hope as Mor- timer, that the King's natural im.becility and want of principle could be corrected, still he considered the sword as a last resource, to which appeal should reluc- ( 136 ) tantly be made, and that while it was steadily grasped in one hand, the other should retain the scabbard. " The Lord Surrey,^' said he, "has spoken of our late King, and placed his eminence in painful contrast to the degradation of the present sovereign ; but I knew him, and loved him too truly to despair of the renovation of his son, Edward the Great was nursed in the school, of adversity ; its discipline has made many heroes, who, but for its wholesome instructions, would never have been known beyond some petty cabal of intriguers or joyous revel- lers, ^vhose brief applause would ill have compensated for the glorious record of approving history. Let us all, worthy fellow-patriots, candidly ask ourselves if the enjoyment of our own castles in time of peace, the pliant submission of our vassals, the chase, the banquet, the tennis-court, and the chess-board — all those gay pleasures of wine and min- ( ^37 ) strelsy that wait as handmaids on our prosperous fortunes, do not tend to make us lethargic or insolent, extravagant or tyrannical. My Lord Hereford knows as well as myself, that our dogs and falcons often divert us from listening to the com- plaints of a vassal, or punishing the pecu- lation of an overseer. I mean not to offend my noble compeers ; Earl Morti- mer may be faultless, I am not honoured with his privacy, but I have seen the good Lord Pembroke smile at the jests of Gaveston, when the circling cup has softened the rigidity of his virtue, and the scoff ^Yas pointed at a baron with whom he was in enmity. Nay, it is said that the voice which has so lately kindled in our hearts the fire of resent- ment at our wrongs, has condescended to chaunt a loose strain among his glee maidens at Sandal Castle. I say not this to enforce the pernicious maxim, that ( '38 ) there is but one common standard of c!ia« racter, above whose level they whom the world esteems most worthy never rise, and below whieh, those whom it loads with opprobium, if candidly scruti- nized, seldom sink ; nor yet do I de- sign to extinguish that zeal for our char» tered liberties which, I trust, is insepa- rable from Englishmen, but to impress upon your minds, that the point we must aim at, in our disputes with the King, is improvement, not perfection. Errors remain in the best men, mistakes in the wisest administrations. A reign of thirty- four years, and the wisdom and courage of our great Edward, were scarce suf- ficient to 'heal the miseries of the long preceding civil wars. Let us not hastily open the wounds which his skill hardly healed. Let us be firm, but not make the King desperate by rebellion. To that last resource we may be driven ( ^39 ) by accumulated oppression^ but at pre*- sent there appears more of carelessness and folly, than evil intention in his government. Gaveston, though hateful in England, has, in our sister-island, proved himself a brave soldier. If the King cannot be prevailed on to banish him his dominions, we will insist on his being placed where distance may abate his evil influence, and some honourable incentive spur his ambition to right exer- tions. What, if he were again sent to Ireland, whither Edward Bruce has just shaped his cours?, hoping to gain the crown of that kingdom for himself, as his brother has acquired Scotland's. Ourselves, as well as the King, must abide by our oaths. We have pledged ourselves to be his liege subjects, and the points on which we must insist, are war with Scotland, the absence of the favou- rite, and the appointment of a council worthy to direct in the King's name, and ( ^40 ) to his honour, the affairs of this once powerful kingdom." He then proposed that they should attend the tournament at Wallingford, as a mark of respect to the King's sum- mons, but alike avoid irritating beha- viour and that sort of free cordiality which marks conciliation. He proposed that each nobleman should limit his armed follov/ers to fifty, a train sufficient to shew their strength and intimidate treachery, yet, at the same time, too in- significant to confirm the accusation of their being in a state of hostility. He further recommended that they should form a camp without the town, distinct from the courtiers, and wear a white scarf round their right arms, as a pledge of fidelity to each other. The advice was implicitly adopted, and the assembly dispersed. Hereford and Pembroke cordially shook hands with l-incoln, and took his allusion to their C 141 ) foibles In good part ; but the hint respect- ing his voluptuous style of living, piqued Surrey, who at once, luxurious and un- governable, disdained the interference of his intended father- in-law, though hestiil resolved to wear Alicia's device at the tournament : and after unhorsing his op- ponent, (an event he deemed certain,) claim her as his reward. Decency, in- terest, and inclination equally forbade any further delay. It was apparent by the coldness of De Lacy's behaviour to him in private, that though he was wil- ling to associate with him for the public good, his affectation of transcendant re- gard for the honour of England had not effaced the recollections of the father. A further neglect of Alicia might revive that feud v/hich, for the interest of the house of Warren, should remain healed. The good old Earl of Lincoln, faithful to his word, but discriminating in his judg- ment, had now all the peers of the realm ( H2 ) in his eye, and even that grand deceptive principle self-partiality, could not pre- vent Surrey from believing it was pos- sible that a competitor might be found equal in every requisite^ and predisposed to receive with rapture, a prize, the value of which he seemed to forget. The praise bestowed on Lancaster was, to him, peculiarly obnoxious : many of the peers threw up their bonnets, when War- wick, with friendly warmth, retorted his sarcasm ; and he could not but observe, that among the remarks Lincoln glanced at other lords, the sanctity of the monk's vest was left unimpugned. He rejoiced that this man was not a personal friend of the De Lacies, and was, moreover, un- known to the lady, though from his reported dedication of himself to a reli- gious order, he felt no apprehensions of ' his entertaining an earthly love. The letter he had received from Alicia made ( '43 ) this proud voluptuary expect she possessed those intellectual qualities which he re- tjuired in his consort ; for he, like the ma- jority of those who misapply superior abili- ties, gave that place in his esteem to talents which he denied to virtue, either from doubting its existence, or from despising the comparative feebleness of those efforts which are narrowed by principle and conscience. He knew he could not tolerate a pretty idiot, if rendered still more insipid by the name of wife ; but a woman of intelligence^ even if she pos- sessed not only discernment to see, but spirit to resist ill usage, had attractions. His ingenuity would be exercised either in concealing his own vices, or in com- pelling her to endure them. Perhaps she would rebel. Delightful ! he had a mistress in every castle ; and she might choose at which she would reside. As a iiusband, he possessed power to discard ( 144 ) her train, and withhold her dower, and therefore the time would arrive, when offended beauty must lower its haughty- tone, and sue for pardon. He again read over Alicia's letter. It required him to be a patriot. She must hear of his quick obedience : the fame of his elo- quence would intoxicate her with admi- ration ; he would also appear at Wal- lingford with such a well-appointed suite as would complete his conquest; and 'thus, if faithful duty, and the re- nown of vast abilities, martial skill, gay appearance, wit, and gallantry could secure a woman's heart, or conquer offended pridej Alicia would be his by her own free choice. Why then fear the cold reserve of Lincoln, or turn pale at the unstained reputation and dis- interested virtue of the Earl of Lan- caster ? From the tournament in which he should defend the charms of his 3 C 145 ) mistress, he would post to Pontefract, and complete, by his personal address, the captivation accelerated by his repu- tation. ^bL. I. ( X46 ) CHAPTER VI. Ah, gracious Lord, these days are dangerous .; Virtue is choak'd with foul amUitioti, And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ; Foul subornation is predominant. And equity exiled your Highness land. Shacespeaxe. TV/f EANTIME the King, the Queen, and Gaveston, arrived with their respective suites at Wallingford. The discontented lords had not exaggerated the court's callous indifference to public calamities, nor the profusion by which those evils were increased. Notwith- standing foreign invasion, and domestic discontent, the King's only anxiety was to secure the company of his favourite ; and the influence of the latter was at present entirely directed to his making such an appearance at the tournament as ( H7 ) should eclipse all the antient noblh'ty of England. As to their resentment, he de- spised them too much to fear their frowns ; and the King had already shewn that he would go any lengths to protect him* With the weakness common to little minds, he so over-rated the services he had performed in Ireland, that he placed his name on a level with the most re- nowned conquerors, believing that he had disarmed opposition, and that the re- mainder of his life might be devoted to reaping the laurels he had so gloriously won. As to the Queen, regarding her as a beautiful child, who would weep when he was displeased, and smile when he shewed a wish to conciliate her, he triumphed in the negligence of her husband, and boasted of having sown incurable dissension between the royal pair. The character of Isabella of France was not then developed ; she was only- known as exquisitely lovely, eminently H 2 ( h8 ) accomplished, mistress of a most engaging address, and cruelly neglected. The King, on his return from inspecting the lists, and selecting the gold embroidery that was to face the trappings of Ga- veston's charger, was informed that a pilgrim requested audience. His first impulse was to refer this intruder on his important duties to the Earl of Cornwall, but recollecting that he occasionally received presents of religious tokens from his sister Mary, the devout nun at Amesbury, he supposed this to be her agent, whose visit would give him little trouble, as he would only be re- quired to say A Paternoster, kiss the gift, inquire to what shrine the pilgrim was travelling, and send some trifling offering. The stranger was therefore admitted. His majestic height^ and commanding deportment, drew immediate attention, which was changed to trepidation, when, on his being unbonnetted^ the King re- C 149 ) cognized the features of the Earl cl Lancaster. "It is not necessary for our most dear cousin to use disguise to obtain aa audience," said the monarch, stooping to embrace the prince, who rose from paying the act of homage, with an air which spoke that he reverenced the sove- reign, while he blamed the man. *' The Earl of Lancaster is ever welcome, even when, as his aspect denotes, he is the bearer of heavy tidings." *' My visits to Your Highness," replied Lancaster, " have the infrequency of one who thinks himself more honoured in obeying your commands, than in attend- ing on your person. My garb and ap- pearance are the consequence of a vow which I have made to sustain the cha- racter of a mourner till I have faithfully laid before you the condition pf your kingdom. Of the army you entrusted to me, I can say no more, than that the part H q ( J50 ) vvhich has not been disbanded by the dis- content of their leaders, is now in safe quarters in Berwick, too weak to oppose the victorious Scots. I have, by ph'ghting my word that it shall remain inactive this winter, obtained for the western portion of the borders, a suspension of those in- roads, which, without ultimately deciding the contest, foment a spirit of cruel hostility. All I could do has been to preserve those fortresses, which will serve as rallying points Ayhen Your Majesty shall determine to take the field, with an army suited to a King of England." '* Cousin," replied Edward, *' we are fallen upon evil times, and it is our duty to submit to the correcting hand of heaven." Lancaster bowed his assent. ** In that conviction,** said he, " I approach Your Grace, but my grief is turned into despair, when I perceive that the commiseration ex- cited by the melancholy state of your king- ( 15' ) dom,Is confined to your own royal bosom. Even in the purlieus of your court, I see nothing but preparations for festivity. Among your subjects there is discontent, disgrace, and want ; here are exultation, enjoyment, and profusion. Give orders. Sire, that these rejoicings should cease, or permit England to partake in your gladness." The King answered, that it was the devout wish of his heart that all his sub- jects should be as happy as himself. Lancaster replied, it were treason to doubt his sincerity ; but though wishes and in- tense desires wafted our prayers to heaven, man required active exertions to render service efficient* *' Few years have elapsed," continued he, " since Your Ma- jesty received a glorious crown, beaming with the rays of your people's prosperity. What then so great as England ? Who so magnanimous and famous as Englishmen? Scotland lay at your feet ; Wales was in- H 4 ( '52 ) corporated with us; Ireland was peaceable; the Low Countries and Castile in alliance, and France, when it gave a princess to your bed, gave her to be mother of a line of monarchs who should exhibit the rare wonder of small territory and in- vincible strength. Neither Emperor nor Soldan durst raise the hand of defiance against your father, and now the insur- gents of Lochaber, headed by a man who was bred at his court, a subject, bays us in the open field, sends your defeated General charged with proposals of treaty couched in the style of independence; and the King of England, when called to re- sist his vassal, talks of submission to what heaven inflicts. My liege, if such is your will, dismiss me from your service, cancel the oath which I took to serve you faith- fully on the day you wedded the realm of England. I have no occupation in a country of whose salvation its sovereign despairs. Depute to me, therefore, the ( 153 ) melancholy honour of placnig this sacred relic, once inhabited by every affection worthy a prince and a man, in that sacred sepulchre, at whose remem- brance piety dies to the world, and every sublunary care is lost in the idea of infinite grace. My sword, if useless to England, shall be consecrated to rescue the land which my Redeemer trod from infidels : there, at least, will I spend the remainder of my days ; and at the foot of the tablet which covers the heart of King Edward, shall the dust of his faithful knight Lancaster await the renovating morning of eternity." '' Your Majesty," resumed Lancaster, after a short pause, " listens to me with your wonted goodness. Suffer me to revive in your recollection the salutary impression of two instructive events. I received knighthood on the feast of Whit- suntide, at the same time with Your H 5 C 154 ) Grace, and three hundred noble youths of high birth and generous endowments. We kept our vigils in the church of "Westminster, among the ashes of our ancestors ; there we fasted, prayed, and walked from shrine to shrine, implored every saint to mediate for us in heaven, and excited each other to virtuous emi- nence, by recounting the actions of those whose sympathising spirits we seemed to trace dimly gliding along the distant chantries. The morning rose, ushered in by vociferations of joy so loud, so universal, that the proud roof shook over our heads, and our extacy of transported expectation almost raised our bodies from the earth. It was then we received our summons to attend in the great hall, where the first of monarchs sat on his throne to receive us. Glorious was the cavalcade ; the wealth and ingenuity of England seemed exhausted in supplying rare ( ^ss ) devices, purple liveries, caparisoned steeds,, banners, scarfs, and mantles stiff with embroidery, gems, and gold ; but more glorious vt'as your father in his plain surcoat, wearing the antique crown of the sainted Confessor, and grasping the sword of his regalia. The gallantest nobles stood unnoticed in the pride of youth and splendor, when he rose, with majestic grace, and as you, kneeling^, kissed the holy gospels in confirmatioa of the proflfered oath, thrice waved his sword round your head, and bade you- rise a true knight, and Duke of Aqui* taine. " This honour. Sire, you alone re- ceived at his hand, but you were im» powered to dispense it to the expectant claimants, who from henceforth were to be your fellow-soldiers, compatriots, and-, friends. I see you now as you looked; 'when leaping on the high altar, pressedi H 6 ( 156 ) by the ^concourse of your eager people, who crowded to behold you. The honour you thence bestowed seemed to us a sa- crament emanating from the holy of holies. How rapturous was the expres- sion of your countenance, how pure the joy that thrilled your youthful bosom 1 The oath there taken bound your noble compeers to purity of life, fidelity in en- gagements, courage in combat, obedience to the laws, and piety to God. The in- signia we there received must not be worn by a knave nor a coward ; and never have the spurs been torn from the heel, nor the pennon inverted, of any of those noble chevaliers over whose heads the sword of Saint George was that day waved. " The important objects which your father had in view justified this expense of splendor. He then meditated the subjection of the Scottish crown, as the only means of terminating the woes of the border-countries y and the flower of ( ^S7 ) the English nobility, pledging themselves to support that right, became thenceforth principals in that war, as well as brothers in arms. Let Your Grace reflect on their indignant feelings, when they see your General, destitute of resources, compelled to retreat from the borders of a country, through which they marched triumphant even to its northern confines/* The King remained silent, and the Earl proceeded. " On one other occasion, I was called to witness an obligation laid on yourself, and your nobles. The place was Bo- rough on the Sands, the scene a homely chamber, with bare walls, and sordid furniture ; but the most studied appa- ratus of pompous woe could not have added to the genuine anguish of that dismal scene. On a hard pallet lay the listless form of our legislating conqueror, our paternal king. His mind was not subdued by the torment which exhausted C 158 ) his body. Never were his talents more conspicuous; never did his penetration: more clearly discern, or ably provide against impending evils. Thercj Sire, you again stood foremost to take the oaths his wisdom prescribed ; and I, as first peer of the blood, and representative of all your barons, swore for thera and for myself, that his heart should be sent to Palestine, Scotland rendered incapable of injuring England, and Pierce Gaveston banished for ever.'* The King's countenance now changed' from confusion to resentment and con* sternation. Forgetting that he had squan- dered his resources, and offended his barons,, by his rashness and versatility, and thus incapacitated himself from obey- ing his father, he replied, that though it was not incumbent on him to answer the remonstrance of every bold reprover, his cousin Lancaster was entitled to con- sideration. Respecting the Scottish war,.. ( '59 ) he was ready and desirous to take the field in person, when, he doubted not, he should, with the assistance of his good subjects, soon drive the mountaineers to their fastnesses. If Lancaster were de- sirous to undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, he would furnish him with passports, and a well-rigged vessel, and shew his respect to his father's memory, by sparing so brave a knight to execute his will. The enjoined offering, for the rescue of Christian captives, he would, in due time, send after him by a trusty messenger, and also add to it a gift of his own. But as to the banishment of the Earl of Cornwall, it would be most ungrateful thus to requite an affectionate friend to himself, and faithful servant of the state. His conquest of Ireland (so the King chose to denominate a few brief successes), shewed that even his discerning father had not read him aright, when he despised him as a man incapable ( i6o ) of great actions ; and if his peers would look on him dispassionately, he knew they would discover in him as much aptitude for the arts of peace as for those of war. If, however, the barons re- solved to be unjust J he would not be un- grateful. His friend's merit had won the affections of his niece, Margaret de Clare, and the tournament, to which he invited his subjects, was ostensibly given in honour of that marriage, and of those services. But it was also intended to excite generous emulation among his peers, to revive the military spirit, and to shew them the eminence to which valour and wisdom might exalt desert ; and he thus imitated his father's example, as ex- hibited in the solemn celebration which the Earl had described. When the joust was ended, he intended making a solemn appeal to his lords for assistance, to carry on the Scottish war; but public business must wait for those coincidences ( i6, ) which gave it a chance of being effectually transacted. It was now Lancaster's turn to be si- lent in astonishment, at the credulity which thus applied to imaginary attain- ments to appease real discontent, at the obstinacy which , overlooking every solemn admonition, provoked instead of con- ciliating an offended aristocracy, and the folly which discovered a coincidence in circumstances, differing in every point of parallel. Lancaster retired, dejected and offended, and the King rejoiced that he was rid of his troublesome monitor : he supposed, that by persevering in a course which he miscalled firmness, he should as easily rid himself of the oppo- sition of all his barons. It still wanted sonie days of the time appointed for the sports ; but as many arrangements among the combatants must precede their commencement, the non-arrival of any knights alarmed the ( l62 ) court, when word, was brought that the lords were advancing in a body, armed, and distinguished by white scarfs. No minstrelsy, or other mark of joy pre- ceded their entrance ; they rode through the town in silence, and encamped on the opposite side, stationing their fol- lowers around them, and appointing cen- tinels, and a watch-word, as if expecting treachery. On passing the balcony, where the King sat, they saluted with their helmets, but neither checked their steeds, nor altered the stern gravhy of their countenances. As soon as they en- camped, the younger peers sent their pursuivants, signifying their design of entering the lists, and the elder lords demanded to sit as judges of the sport. This sullen obedience, blended with such a studied air of dissatisfaction, alarmed the King and his courtiers.. Weak minds are subject to as violent de- pressions at unfavourable changes of ( 163 ) fortune, as to the elation of sudden con- fidence, when they believe the scale is ascending. Gaveston had exulted in the mortification of the Earl of Lancaster, which was to him of more consequence than the subjugation of Scotland. In the fulness of his joy, he sent to him an esquire with his iron glove, signifying his wish to break a spear with him at the en- suing jousts : Lancaster answered, that he should attend them, but declined accepting the gauntlet, as that would have implied an acknowledged equality. The favourite's alarm at the conduct of the barons now made him wish to conciliate a man who hitherto stood neuter between the threat- ening opponents. He went to the Earl's quarters, meaning to soothe his pride by flattery, and gain his favour by affected deference to his judgment. He knew the most superior minds are often en- tangled in the nets which the weakest ran form 5 and though insolence was the ( i64 ) mode of defence to which his temper most inclined him, he possessed the qualities of the spaniel, as well as of the cur, and piqued himself upon being able to delude his enemies, as well as to irritate them ; but he had no opportunity of trying his skill on Lancaster. The Earl was in his oratory, and refused to be disturbed ; Gaveston desired he would name his own time for an interview ; Lancaster an- swered, that as they did not speak the same language, an explanation of their respective intentions was impossible. Gaveston saw he alluded to the impossi- bility of amalgamating their opposite cha- racters y but though he considered him as his" irreconcilable enemy, he had the comfort of discovering that he held no intercourse with the associated barons. Though Gaveston possessed personal courage in the field, he wanted hardihood to meet his enemies before he had ascer- tained the nature of their designs j and till ( i65 ) it could be seen, whether the lords came to contend in martial skill, or to make him their prisoner, the sports must be de- layed ; some intercourse must therefore, take place between the hostile parties, and the Queen was resorted to as a me- diatrix. . The Earl of Gloucester and Walter de Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, were appointed her escort ; conciliation being the object, no fitter choice could have been made ; uncontaminated by the vices of the court, yet faithfully attached to the prince, for whom they ultimately shed their blood, the Earl and the Bishop were alike disposed to act as true friends to their king and their country. But Gaveston trusted still more to the blan- dishments of the Queen, whose insinuat- ing graces nothing could resist, but the heart of her husband ; and he had the in- solence to propose a restoration to favour as the reward of her success. C '66 ) The honour of a visit from their sove- reign lady was certain to make a strong impression on the minds of men whom education, custom, and the oath of knighthood bound to respectful devotion to the fair. A deputation of the noblest barons set out to meet and escort her to the camp. Hereford led the palfrey on which she rode ; Surrey, Warwick, Roger Mortimer, and Aylmer de Valence, held over her head a purple canopy. Festivity succeeded to gloom and dis- content ; a sumptuous banquet was spread in Lincoln's pavilion, enlivened with minstrelsy and pageants ; yet care was taken to shew that the barons, though they rejoiced in their Queen's presence, continued inflexible. The Earl and the Bishop tried all the power of their eloquence to divert this lowering storm; but the barons were firm, saying, that while England was misgo- ( 16; ) verned, her hereditary guardians would adhere to their determination of redress- ing her wrongs. With the boldness of true piety, the Bishop asked, if, in their indiridual capacities as demesne lords and conspicuous nobles, they endeavoured, by the influence of their bright virtues, to correct the immoral propensities of the times 5 if they strictly administered jus- tice, and practised hospitality in the spirit of benevolence ; if they were devout, temperate, and courteous. This was a home thrust : reformers in every age have been apt to overleap that first and most important step, self-reformation. The few who could have stood a rigor- ous test were silent, disdaining to appeal to their own good deeds ; the rest cla- morously observed, that while the wheels of state remained clogged with rapacious favourites, individual exertions to benefit the community merely increased the re- sources of Gaveston. 8 ( 168 ) The Bishop referred to the estates of the Earl, his noble coadjutor, which even in these distracted times preserved the cheering aspect of industry and content. He insisted that the conduct of the immediate superior was more important to the happiness of his de- pendants, than the transactions of govern- ment ; and, without vindicating the King, he insisted that the blame of bringing the kingdom into this state of depression was participated by a large portion of those who were loudest to condemn the self- indulgence and indolence which they re- probated. Many of the lords were si- lent, some admiring the amiable confu- sion of Gloucester, others envying the just eulogium excited by his hu- manity, and wondering if the Bishop was a monitor equally severe to the King, but the major part justified their own oppressions by detailing worse instances ( «% ) of tyranny and cruelty, daily practised by the King's adherents. These angry recriminations grew more clamorous, when suddenly the attention of the disputants was directed to the Oueen, who burst into tears ; whether really terrified by the impetuous manners and stern looks of the barons, or actuated by the dependance which an Artful wo- man places on the efficacy of that invin- cible appeal to the heart of man, it is needless to enquire. Suffice it, that the clamour sunk to respectful sympathy : they who in the rage of battle could tread on a dying enemy, or in the lust of avarice, tear the last morsel from unre- sisting poverty, melted at the sight of royal beauty in distress, and agreed that the grievances, which could not be for* gotten, should, for a time, be suspended. For the sake of the Queen, and at her intrcaty, they consented to wait on the King, v/ith professions of duty, and to VOL. I, I ( I70 ) defer the statement of their demands till after the tournament, she giving them her word, that in case they ab- stained from all acts of violence, and signs of discontent, she vi^ould use her influence with her husband to procure what they desired. As a proof of her triumph, they permitted her to carry their party tokens to the King, on her promising to restore them, in case he refused to accede to such measures as the Earls of Lincoln and Gloucester should both deem expedient. Though this concession was afterwards severely blamed by the violent members of the confederation, no one had the confidence to oppose its immediate exe- cution, and, with a happy adroitness which disarmed resistance, the Queen her- self undertook to renijve from their arms the insignia of resistance. She passed to each of the barons, as he sat at the ban- quet, tossed the scarf with delicate ele- ( '7' ) gance, and as she gave it to her attendant pages, compensated for the spoliation by a betwitching smile or compliment, equally captivating and appropriate. Her conversation with the Earl of Lincoln was the longest and most interesting. She knew that his character stood high in the annals of his time, that he was a brave, faithful guardian of his country's liberties, and patriotic, not only in his public but also in his private capacity. She knew too that he was the fondest of fathers ; she had heard the fame of Alicia's beauty ; and to be surrounded by the fairest ladies in England, was the favourite wish of one who, conscious of her own consummate loveliness, feared no competitor. " If," said she, to the good old Earl, whose heart fluttered at the condescen- sion of the royal syren, and at the topic on which she addressed him, '* we should select you for our own true knight, I 2 C 172 ) would^you pay an implicit obedience to our commands ?" " Old as I am," answered De Lacy, *^ I can yet run a tilt at any discourteous cavalier who dares dispute that my Queen is the most beautiful and'gracious of her sex." ** Thiswill beproved," returned Isabella, "for there are many combatants leagued to exalt a most dangerous rival to ourrenown. They affirm, that our own England nur- tures a fair rebel, qualified to dispute your Queen's pre-eminence ; and the ser- vice we would impose upon you is to bring this traitress to our presence, that, if report says true, we may punish, or, rather, disarm her presumption, by mak- ing her our dearest friend." De Lacy, exultingly, discovered she al- luded to his daughter ; he smiled at the graceful compliment, but pleaded the cus- tom of England, which kept unmarried ladies from an intercourse with the world. 3 ^' You must not so escape," answered the Queen : " the customs of France differ ; and while you only form faithful wives and exemplary mothers, our early intercourse with society ripens our wits, and makes us such able negotiators as to be equal to the task of divsarming heroes. We are not to learn that the Earl of Surrey is betrothed to your fair daughter. "What should prevent the celebration of their nuptials from becoming the con- summating ceremony of the joyous re- conciliation which we hope to cement ? Or if private reasons still operate to defer that desired union, why should the virgin bride continue immured in retirement ; alike denied the privileges of either situ- ation, th-e amusements and state of the wife, or the free choice of the maid ? At the approaching tournament, Lord Surrey will doubtless confirm her renown by his martial exploits. Our cousin of I 3 ( '74 ) Gloucester, who has once seen her, has the same design. Other of our noble gallants are fired to enterprize by the fame of her beauty. Shall the name and device of Lady Alicia de Lacy be familiar to every eye ? and must there be no other criterion of her deserts, but the number of her knights, and the severity of their contests ? We shall hold the Earl of Lincoln hostile to our dear de- sires, though loyal to our person, or conscious of some defect in this all-praised lady, if he refuses our request, that his daughter's presence may add to the splendour of this festival.'* Thus flattered «ind importuned, it was impossible for a fond father to refuse compliance ; and his chamberlain, with a suitable retinue, w^s dispatched for Alicia, before the Queen returned to Wallingford, sorely against the inclina- tions of the Earl of Surrey, who would f ^75 ) have chosen to commence his suit to his betrothed bride in the privacy of her father's castle, rather than in the presence of so many aspiring rivals. » A C 176 ) CHAP. VII. Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold. With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend. Milton. 'T^HOUGH the visit of Isabella was at first propitious to her husband's cause, it engendered another party in the state, who, under the name of the Queen's friends, made her wrongs a pre- text for exciting a dangerous sympathy in her domestic situation ; at whose head stood Roger Mortimer, nephew and heir to the Earl of that name. For- getting that the real interests of the royal pair were indivisible, these persons loudly proclaimed the neglects and injuries of ( ^77 ) a beautiful young princess as the greatest national disgrace ; thus eventually widen- ing the breach, they affected to deplore, and stimulating resentment, till it pro- duced the most horrid event which the annals of England contain, fruitful as they are in royal shames and woes. Whether the guilt of Isabella, that " she-wolf of France/' originated from those keen feel- ings of injury which, when unsubdued by the reslrictions of religion, urge suscep- tible minds to crimes revolting to their natures; or whether, while her heart cherished the most violent passions, her early principles were so depraved, that neither kindness nor merit could have awakened in her breast chaste affection and faithful duty, remains a problem not to be solved, till that awful day, when the degre? of the temptation will be impartially scrutinized and admitted, in extenuation or aggravation of guilt. In fhe ^oft features, gentle voice, and in* I ^ ( 178 ) fiinuating sweetness of the royal media- trix, the future rebel, traitress, and mur- derer, could not be foreseen ; every tongue was loud in her praises. The magnaminity of seeming to forget her own injuries, while interceding for that reconciliation so important to the husband who wronged her 5 of forbearing to allude to the neglect she endured, but speaking with respect of Gaveston, the man who personally insulted her, and taught the King to despise her ; — al! these heroic instances of self-denial raised her character in the estimation of the barons to that of a divinity, who, while dispensing peace and good-will to man, overlooks the provocation excited by the desertion of its altars. Mortimer, and those who entered into his views, insisted that the ill treatment of the Queen should be included in their list of grievances ; but the wiser part, with Lincoln, thought that they should content themselves with 15 ( 179 ) shewing her that uniform respect and decorous attention which true virtue con- siders as its most grateful homage. But the Queen had soon, as she pre- dicted, a dangerous competitor for the prize of beauty. Alicia de Lacy obeved her father's summons with such prompti- tude, that the suddenness of her appear- ance surprized him. His youthful days were long past, and he knew not how rapidly the gay expectant of pleasure can post over hill and dale, despise fatigue, and encounter difficulty ; artless, inno- cent, unpractised in life's subtle maze, not fully conscious of the power of her own beauty, yet disposed to believe all that was said in its commendation, pleased with the smiling appearance of the world, and unprepared for its sad realities, Lincoln's fair daughter was presented to the Queen, who, seeming at first to start with surprize, and then to smile with •cstacy, prevented the act of homage by I 6 ( i8o ) a courteous caress. An instantaneous friendship was formed, which ^ in a few hours ripened into unreserved confidence. A camp not being a proper residence for an unmarried beauty, Alicia^ was lodged in the palace, where the Queen soon acknowledged to her those domestic vexations which she obtained so much credit for suppressing during her short visit to the barons ; and her fair confidant explained why her own nuptials had been so long delayed, by owning, with a mix- ture of anger and contempt, the coldness of her contracted spouse. Instructed by the advice, and warned by the example of her sovereign, Alicia declared her i;e- solution was fixed not to fulfil that engage- ment, unless she discovered those indu- bitable marks of affection which might promise to preserve her from the gloom of an alliance unenlightened by love; One only secret Alicia still concealed, the interest she felt for Lord Lancaster. ( i8i ) A timid consciousness, which makes even innocence feel thnt shame Is not always the associate of guilt, kept her from avowing that his name suffused her check with blushes, and thrilled her heart with painful pleasure. Yet was she curious to know why, at the age of eight-and- twenty, he resided at court, secluded from its pleasures, and estranged from its counsels. Wjjis he destitute not only of those passions which are called the im- petuous tyrants of youth, but of those lofty purposes which ambition is said to sanctify ? Was he indeed wholly the ab- stracted devotee, the disinterested patriot, severe to none but himself, ignorant only of his own deserving? Isabella spoke of him as a man whom she respected, but could not admire. Worthy, but unamiable, his reserve, austerity, and self-command, set in opposition to the wit, gaiety, and courtesy of her polished suite, gave rise to aa idea that he was a misanthrope, and ( l82 ) the courtiers scoffed at him, as a man fitted to a different sort of world, too conscientious to be a dangerous enemy, too stern and uncompliant to be a friend. In full opposition to this character stood that of Gaveston, who soon placed him- self first in the list of Alicia's professed admirers. The systematized opposition which the barons had long shewn to his ambition had taught him to reflect that royal favour might prove an inadequate defence, if their united enmity should ripen into settled resistance. To divert this storm, he sought to join himself by marriage to some noble house, and thus soften the animosity excited by his low origin. The higher the alliance, the greater the security; and the unfortunate Princess of Gloucester was selected for his wife, not from the preference of af- fection, but because she was niece to the King. But Margaret could only .plead her illustrious descent, the repu* ( i83 ) tatlon of her brother, and those meek compliant virtues which were of no value in the eyes of her capricious spouse : Alicia possessed wit, beauty, and every accomplishment which in those ages as- sisted woman in her career of conquest ; and Gaveston now openly declared, that had he seen her previous to her engage- ment and his own, she would have been his first, dearest, only choice: Vainly believing that his merit and the King's favour recommended him to the noblest, the best, and the fairest, he quitted the side of Margaret to chaunt a madrigal, or adapt a love tale to De Lacy 's admired daughter, regardless of the sigh that strove to detain him, or the frown that repelled his advances. The intended gallantries of Surrey to his betrothed bride were suspended, by an indisposition which seized him pre- vious to her arrival. It was called bodily infirmity, but its symptoms were (184) ^ of a peculiar nature. Imposing and joyous as he appeared in public, it was affirmed that this nobleman was in private the prey not only of violent passions but also of extraordinary terrors, which were traced to an early period af his life, and said to be connected with the disappear- ance of some children of whom his grand- father was guardian, and respecting whose fate more inquiries would have been made had they not been of a disloyal race, or had the house of Warren stood less high ^ in public opinion. But the crimes which royal favour screened, or its power could not reach, are not beyond the visitation of heaven ; and during the suspension of amusements, or .when agitated by any violent emotion, this potent and luxurious earl not only ceased to be an object of envy, but excited, by his doleful situation, ihat unusual degree of commiseration which is due to the lowest estate of human wretchedness* Such was the belief of the ( i85 ) "^'ulgar, which received some degree of confirmation from the care his menials occasionally took to guard his privacies, and secrete his person. Accustomed to those injurious reports, which though moi*e frequent in periods of violence, make less impression, few of the barons at all regarded these rumours, and those who did, supposed their brave compeer could, if called upon, easily justify him- self from having committed any act in- compatible with honour. It was only al- lowed that he was subject to some occa- sional attacks of constitutional disease, which, when he returned to society, did not prevent him from being its ornament and delight. Alicia, thus left without the presence of a lover whose prior claim would awe other pretenders, experienced the usual fortune of pre-eminent beauty. A crowd followed her steps, courting her smiles, soothing her with flattery, or professing ( i86 ) an attachment she was not at liberty to return. Lancaster was not of this num- ber : she daily saw him, but other cares than those of love engrossed his thoughts; and, viewing her as a betrothed bride, he would not allow his eyes the dangerous privilege of gazing on her charms. In those times it was deemed honourable for the most powerful subjects personally to discharge those offices of attendance on their sovereign, the name only of which now remains. Lancaster, as cup-bearer, daily stood behind the chair of his sove- reign at the commencement of the ban- quet, while Alicia waited on her royal mistress ; but, his duty finished, he withdrew. The grave ascetic partook not of the feast ; the indignant patriot and repulsed general indulged not in the gaiety of the convivial board. It was then that the buzzing insects whom the rank soil of the court generates, amused the mis- judging Edward with tales to his cousin'« ( '87 ) disadvantage. Not only were sarcasms uttered, but slanders invented ; yet still the dignity of Lancaster repelled the one, as his pure morals refuted the other. In vain was it said that the summons of a private intrigue called him from attend- ance on his royal master, or that, con- scious of his awkwardness, he chose to remain among those associates whose un- finished manners did not reproach his want of elegance. His country was his only mistress ; and he left the haunts of vo- luptuousness to minister to the relief of the many children of affliction whom those unhappy times daily sent to his gates ; and their prayers were his eulogies. The tournament at length commenced. On the first day, as decorum prescribed, the sports were celebrated in honour of the Queen. Various and uninteresting were its events ; but at the ball in the evening, to the astonishment of all, and to the anticipated amusement of the cour- ( i88 > tiers, the Earl of Lancaster was present. Alicia never , thought his figure wanted adventitious embellishments ; though, ac- customed to see him the mark of scorn, she did not dare to avow her admiration ; and now that he appeared arrayed in a velvet mantle, and gracefully waved in his hand a plumed cap of estate, his dignity of demeanour was so universally acknow- ledged, that the sanction of her applause would be superfluous. The King, having indolently performed the task of dancing a measure with the Queen, withdrew to the banquetting-room with his favourite, where wine, gaming, and licentious mirth, sup- plied the stimulus which his vitiated taste found wanting in innocent or elegant pleasures. The beauteous Princess, on whom all beside gazed with delight, pained at an insensibility alike cruel and ill-timed, stood silent and distrest, when Lancaster placed himself at her side, and, with an air of such respectful deference as ( i89 ) would banish from the mind of the person he addressed every humilii^ting recol- lection, implored her to allow him to suc- ceed his royal master as her partner in the diversions of the evening. The Earl of Lancaster dance ! A skipping Saint Basil ! An anchoret sacrificing to the graces ! That base spirit of imitation so common to low-minded parasites, which ever seeks to confirm rather than correct the faults of superiors, had taught most of the courtiers to conform to the behaviour of the King, by slighting and mortifying the Queen, and, with contemptuous sneers on their countenances, all eyes were strained to discover such absurdities in her partner as might furnish an excellent jest for the Earl of Cornwall, who would greatly enjoy the ludicrous mistakes com- tnitted by the misjudging copyist of his most peculiar accomplishment. But the jest wanted piquancy. The patriot did not attempt to bound with the lightness ( 190 ) of a feathered Mercury, nor glide with the lithe negligence of the volatile Gascon, who considered the importation of a new movement, or a skilful minstrel, to be a national advantage. The measure Lan- caster called for was graceful but grave, displaying to advantage a noble figure, and a majestic air ; but as totally distinct from all that was wanton or frivolous, as was the Pyrrhick dance of the Greeks, or the solemn movements consecrated by reli- gion. The dance being ended, he led the Queen to her chair of state, and con- tinued in earnest conversation with her the remainder of the night. Though surrounded by the gayest young barons, Alicia would have spared all their gallantry for one glance which implied the preference of a man whom, for the first time, she viewed with other sentiments than those of approbation. *' If my engagement to Lord Surrey," thought she, " has been his motive for ( 19' ) paying me so little attention, has he not still more cogent reasons for shunning the dangerous beauty of the Queen ? How his soul speaks in his eyes ! How devoted is his manner ! Does this singleness of regard to beauty so exquisite correspond with that abstracted piety which sees nothing lovely in sublunary beings, ex- cept as they are symbols of divine per- fection ? Beware, my Lord of Lancaster, it is not a glorious Madonna, nor a beati- fied Cecilia, you now gaze on, but the Queen of England, — a married queen, — the wife ol your friend, of your sove- reign.'* Thus, with that jealous pique which suppressed affection fosters, Alicia felt restless and splenetic at seeing Lancaster could play the gallant so bravely, and herself not be the object of his courtesy. Had she looked into the Earl's heart, she would have found these assiduities proceed- ed from generous pity. Had she listened ( ^92 ) to his conversation, she would only have heard respectful counsels. Perhaps their gravity was displeasing, for the Queen soon retired. Alicia followed her. The' friends (for so situation made them) could only exchange a few words in se- cresy, the Queen whispering that Lord Lancaster was not the formal anchoret he had been described, while Alicia reminded her of her nuptial vows, by emphatically sending her duty to the King. Painful reflexions attended the night-watchings of these ladies: Isabella meditated on the blessed lot of those wives who find in their husbands an adviser and protector ; the thoughts of Alicia took a v/ider range; perhaps they even strayed to the precincts, of a cloister, where women are for ever safe from the tyranny, caprices, and in- sensibility of man. The second day's sport was to be in honour of the fairest lady of the court, and the unanimous voice proclaimed this ( 193 ) was De Lacy *s daughter. The combatants adopted her device, a doe reposing among lilies, and they varied it by those sym- bolical colours which best corresponded with their sentiments. The victors were to receive the prizes from her hand, among which was a scarf of her own em- broidery. Surrey was in a state of con- valescence, and felt himself imperatively called to be present on this occasion. The doe among lilies appeared on his pennon, in a green field, significant of the security of his hope. In generous consideration of his late indisposition and engagement to the lady, the two champions who op- posed him submitting to the voluntary disgrace of being speedily unhorsed, yielded him a cheap conquest, and allowed him to kneel to the trembling lady for the first prize. The eyes of the long contracted pair now first met since time had given a piercing lustre and keen discernment to those of Alicia. Surrey VOL. I. K ( 194 ) saw that she was as beautiful as his warmest thoughts could paint, and readily believed she was the only woman who could wean him from his libertine habits, and medicine the secret anguish of his soul. But Alicia beheld in him the reverse of Lancaster. A man whose age nearly doubled her own, whose bloated features spcke excess, whose bold eye evinced confidence, and in whose smile she thought she saw a malignant im- portance, instead of a pleading amenity. The Earl of Lancaster was grave and austere, but there was benevolence in his austerity ; he seemed to raise the person he addressed to his own supe- rior level, by his condescension j while Surrey appeared like the bugbear of authority, erected to guard his own pre- eminence. As he snatched the salute, which was one of the privileges of triumph, she resolved rather to take the veil than become the wife of a man at once careless ( '95 ) and presuming ; and though this would probably" be the proudest day of her life, she counted its remaining hours insuffer- ably tedious, since she must pass them with Surrey sitting at her side. But attention was again called to the ring, which was now filled with com- batants and their esquires, all vociferating Alicia's praises, and claiming to clash swords, or break a lance in her honour. The clamour was for a moment sus- pended, and the Earl of Cornwall entered the lists ; for thougTi he had not deigned to appear as the Queen's champion, he chose to confer the highest honour on the lady Alicia, by wearing her livery. Gold and gems studded his hauberk, the trap- pings of his courser swept the ground with stiff embroidery and silver aglets, and his plume, clasped in a circle of diamonds, seemed, by its redundance, sufficient to decorate the pavilion of a mo- narch. This cumbrous magnificence was K 2 ( 196 ) certainly 111 suited to those encounters, which, though esteemed amusements in that age of martial hardihood, strained every sinew to the full exertion of strength and agility. Gaveston supposed that none would presume to dispute the prize for which he appeared a claimant, except those who would be desirous of pur- chasing the King's favour, by allowing him such victories as were merely displays of science. His charger bore him proudly round the ring, an esquire rode on either side in gilt armour, and the pages who attended were habited in imitation of the barons who had combated the preceding day. A numerous band of armed foreigners followed as his guard, arranged themselves on one side, and seemed, by their threatening aspect, to demand justice for their master. But the most offensive piece of audacity was, that his banner not only displayed the doe and the lilies, in a saffron field (the colour of possession). ( »97 ) but it was depictured with a dart in its breast, and this motto, " She will be mine." ,A murmur of disapprobation arose at this attack on a lady's fame. Surrey turned an alarmed glance on Alicia, but was pacified at beholding in her countenance the strongest marks of displeasure and contempt. Several successive combatants who challenged Gaveston were unhorsed, and the judges were about to pronounce the Earl of Cornwall victor, when an- other knight rushed into the ring.— - His pursuivant proclaimed him a cham- pion of the Lady de Lacy, and he defied all the chevaliers there assembled, ex- cept the Earl of Surrey^ Further to prove that his admiration was confined within the chaste precincts of chivalry, the colour of his banner was that of the faded leaf, the symbol of despair. The vizor of the knight was closed, and he K -q ( 198 ) wore no identifying device; but Alicia knew it was the Earl of Lancaster, and her feelings were instantly changed from sorrow and confusion to transport, as she rapidly told over her beads, imploring the virgin to give success to her cham- pion's sword. Surrey asked why she applied to her rosary. " I am praying," said she, " that the knight who has just entered the lists may rescue my name from the contamination to which auda- cious presumption has exposed it," Surrey inquired if she knew him, and Alicia hastily answered that it was the Earl of Lancaster. Distraction ! Met at every turn by Lancaster ! Let him assume the patriot, he is told that while he talks about grievances, that man can shew how they may be redressed; and now, when he is playing the suitor to his be- trothed wife, she remains careless to all his compliments, while her whole frame ( 199 ) trembles as she pray« for the success of Lancaster. But let us return to the lists where, astounded at an unexpected rencontre, yet summoning the animal courage of which he was not destitute, Gaveston fixed himself in his seat, put his lance in rest, and wheeled round to rush with full force on his adversary, who, he trusted, would soon repent his temerity in challenging one who, beside posses- sing royal favour, " that tower of strength," excelled in all martial exer- cises. The lances of both were broken, their swords clashed^ and an equality of strength and skill rendered victory du- bious. But the vanity of Gaveston ac- celerated his humiliation ; at the last charge his horse stumbled and felK Encumbered and terrified by its pomp- ous trappings, the steed plunged vio- lently, while its rider, stunned by the fall, and entangled by the preposte- K 4 ( 200 ) rous length of his gold spurs, hung senseless at its mercy. An universal wish moved the angry barons to hope that he would never rise more ; but the Earl of Lancaster risked his own life to preserve that of a man whose expulsion he would have purchased at the espence of his earldom. Dismounting with the speed of thought, he released Gaveston's foot, and drew the apparent corpse from the enraged animal. The Earl then raised his opponent, and took off his helmet : his listless head sunk upon his bosom, and a stream of blood poured over his mantle. Lancaster called for assistance, but there was another cry more ear-piercing, more desponding. It issued from the King of England, who, in the supposed death of his minion, saw a misfortune transcen- dantly more calamitous than the spolia- tion and degradation of his kingdom. ( 201 ) He was first at the side of Lancaster, calling upon Gaveston by the most affectionate names, and lamenting his own bereaved condition. The alarm was in every sense unsuited to the occasion : Gaveston was only stunned ; and the blood pouring from a trivial hurt, re- stored his senses. He revived to a deep sense of shame and vexation, which the unbounded transport of the King did but partially assuage. The barons sat 'indignant at the weakness of their sovereign, while Lancaster, mortified and afflicted even in the moment of victory, contemplating the long train of calamities to which this pusillanimous, this unac- countable predilection would give rise, rested pensively on his sword, uncon- scious of the av/ard of the judges in his favour, till Sir Robert Holland, who served as his esquire, reminded him that he must go and receive the prize. ( 202 ) When Alicia saw Gaveston unhorsed^ she clapped her hands in extacy, and selecting the scarf which her ingenious taste had rendered the most desirable of the prizes, she held it up, not for the knight of Rhodes, but for the generous guardian of her insulted fame. In breath- less suspense she viewed the ensuing scene, till roused by Surrey's remark, that her eagerness to reward desert was singularly contrasted by the retiring dif- fidence of the favoured hero. " And can Lord Surrey,'* said she, " be less just to the feelings of a patriot than a grateful woman, even in the moment when humbled vanity tells her that her favour is but a secondary consideration ? Of what importance is the emblem of triumph to. one who knows he deserves it ? Can this purfled silk bind up the wounds of an heart which sees England weep blood, while her King, like a ter- ( 203 ) rified girl, sheds tears for a worthless favourite, in the presence of his convo- cated nobles !''• The Earl of Lancaster now advanced to receive his reward ; and as Alicia wound the scarf around him, loquacious gratitude overcame faultering modesty. " Illustrious and right royal Lancaster," said she, " I bestow the prize of your valour with more pleasure, because I believe your conquest is the reward of my prayers. Daily have they been of- fered as you enjoined ; in one particular only have I disobeyed you, — I have ven- tured to blend your safety and glory with the prosperity of England.'* " Happy Surrey !'* again repeated Lan- caster, as he printed a respectful salute on her glowing cheek. He spoke in the same tone, he used the same expressions as when they met at Pontefract. Surely " he meant to reproach her. She would K 6 ( 204 ) not, for the world, disgust so nice a judge of what was decorous in woman, and would therefore rein in her joy, yet, not for the larger bribe of Lancaster's approbation, would she make Surrey that enviable man he seemed to think him. The joust being terminated by Gaves- ton's disaster, and the King's following the litter on which he was conveyed back to the palace, the assembly broke up. It was the custom for each lady to lead^ by a silver chain, the knight she was most inclined to favour : Lancaster drew back as yielding this distinction to Alicia's betrothed spouse. So honour- able, so delicate a rival (if rival he might be called) could not justify Surrey in shewing symptoms of that jealousy which stung his soul. To indicate dis- pleasure would only oiFend the lady, and point to the perhaps unconscious Lan- caster a prize which might reconcile ( 205 ) him to the world, which, as report said, he intended to renounce. Such a man would be a dangerous enemy, though the most honourable of friends. In that light Surrey resolved to consider him : there was indeed no congeniality in their dispositions, but confidence is a tie on an upright mind. His recent indisposi- tion left a weakness which unfitted him for bearing a part in the evening festivity ; Lancaster, as his substitute, would at least preserve Alicia from more danger- ous companions ; and the vivid imagina- tion which had been delighted by seeing a grave hero in a scene suited to his character, would find its romantic fer- vours chilled at being tied to- a satur- nine partner, while other damsels trip- ped joyously with their lively knights. At all events, to yield gracefully is half a victory ; taking the silver chain which Alicia held in her hand, he fixed it on the arm of Lancaster, requesting him, ^n ( 206 ) since the exertions of the morning had overpowered an invalid whom duty to his beloved mistress drew too soon from his couch, that he would be that day his substitute, by amusing and protecting his betrothed wife. But for the last word, Alicia would have honoured Sur- rey with her first mark of approbation ; yet though he was master of the art of deception, his tongue faultered as he spoke, and the smile with which he aimed' to gild over his im.patience, was the true grin of ill suppressed malignity ; while, prouder than a victorious Amazon, the Lady Alicia mounted her palfrey, and led the gorgeous cavalcade back to Wallingford. Gaveston's fall had too much marred his beauty to permit his appearance at the banquet. The King, to whom no- thing seemed unregal which spoke his dotage for his friend, remained in his chamber, while the Earl of Gloucester ( 207 ) took his place at the feast ; and the Queen, dispensing with state, introduced the easy politeness of her native France. The pleasure which she took in the fa- vourite's mortification, was visible by her attentions to his conqueror. She spoke to hira of her royal kinswoman, the Queen of Navarre ; the praise of his mother was a theme on which his filial reverence was eloquently animated. Never had Lancaster appeared to such advantage in the eyes of Alicia, because never before had she seen him in the happy ease of chastised, yet brilliant con- versation. Yet at times her heart sunk with painful anticipations, and she watch- ed with concern the rapid expenditure of the day, which, in the morning, she had thought would prove indescribably tedious. She inquired if she should ever be so happy again. This was the last day of the tournaments : the morrow was to be devoted to arrangements between ( 208 ) the King and his barons, and after then, — dreadful thought ! Surrey had intimated that he should claim the contract. In the interim, v/hat could she resolve to do ? Confide her woes to the paternal bosom, and own her invincible disgust to Surrey ! Her father was all wisdom, all goodness. If he determined that the en- gagement was obligatory, one method would cancel it : taking the veil super- seded all other vows ; but if a papal dis- pensation might set her free, she would willingly purchase it with half her dowry. Absorbed in thought, with the usual im- providence of exquisite feeling, the highly seasoned, cup of joy lost its relish, from anticipation of the future bitter potion. The sprightly minstrelsy had sum- moned her gay companions to the dance, when her stupor was interrupted by Lancaster's asking her permission to ful- fil the trust consigned him by Lord Surrey. She complied in silence 5 and, C 209 ) as if spell-bound by that name, danced ill, and in evident depression. The evening was chiefly devoted to conversa- tion. She was in a suitable train of thought to accord with her companion's censures, at this unseasonable prodigality of expence and time ; and Lancaster, mistaking a sudden start of spleen for congeniality of temper, still more la- mented the perverse destination which had bound her to another. He drew a picture of what he conceived true hap- piness, in opposition to what is termed pleasure. It was calm, benevolent, social, enlightened, and domestic, such as his mother enjoyed with her fair charge at Kenilworth. " Happy Matilda!*' ex- claimed Alicia ; and after she had utter- ed the words, was mortified at their resemblance to the ejaculation of Lan- caster. But was this bright vision of happiness, drawn with such delicate touches, only a ( 210 ) fairy palace ; or was it the habitation in which the painter wished to pass his days ? The crusader's cross was still on his arm, and underneath the plumes in his cap of estate, the escallop shell was conspicuous. But many barons assumed these symbols, who yet were diverted from visiting Palestine. In conversation with the Queen, he defended the Knights Templars ; but that might only be from justice to, and generous pity for a bar- barously persecuted order. Surely a man so formed to improve and adorn society, would not renounce it except from some severe disappointment in the tender passion. That cause, and not the patriot's or the general's wrongs, must have moved him to say, that .he was an insulated man, with no other ties than the universal one of love to his species and his country. Were this the case, why did she say " Happy Matilda ?" These thoughts accompanied Alicia to ( 2" ) her chamber, where, determined on ap- pealing to her father's love, she sat impatient for the dawning day ; but ere its appearance, Beatrice rushed into her room, and informed her that the Earl of Lincoln was dying. The affectionate daughter stopped for no further intelli- gence, but flew to his quarters, and was rewarded by hearing that he was revived. He had been closeted, they said, with Fa- ther Ambrose, who brought some heavy- tidings ; the Earl was heard to say that he should not long survive the blow, and then sunk into a state of temporary in- sensibility, from which he had just re- covered, and asked for his sole remain- ing comfort, his most precious Alicia. It is now necessary to look back and describe circumstances intimately con- nected with this history. ( 212 ) CHAP. VIII. Combining priests from many an ancient tale Wove for their use religion's hallovv'd veil ; A wond'rous texture, supple, ^ich, and broad, To cozen folly, and to shelter fraud. For in the magic web was every charm, To awe the feeble, or the bold disarm ; To win from easy faith a blind esteem, And lull devotion in a constant dream ; This as her cestus Superstition wore. Haylet, "117 E left the Countess of Lincoln, her son, and her confessor, with their suite, performing a routine of pilgrimages. The anxious mother had prostrated her- self at every shrine famous for miracles, and had sent her offerings to every con- vent, the sound of whose bells greeted her on her journey. Beside, she had purchased a vast hoard of bones, teeth, rags, and other apparent trumpery, pre- cious relics all, and disposed them around ( *'3 ) the person of her son, who had been dipped in Saint Winifred's well seven times, and suffered to He all night in the stone grotto of Saint Bruno. By all these means. Lady Margaret believed him to be cured of a disease with which she had suspected him to be threatened ; and as the mountain-air, exercise, relaxa- tion from enfeebling austerities and rigid study, had given the warm glow of health to his features, she concluded her prayers were heard, and determined (as her pe- rambulatory duties were finished) to repose, after her fatigues, at Denbigh. That town, with its demesnes, had been bestowed on her husband by the late King, in reward of his services in the Welsh wars ; and on this scite he had nearly completed a castle, the magnifi- cence of which threatened to eclipse Con- way and Caernarvon, those horns of Wales, by which the first Edward threat- ened to fasten on and subdue the in- ( 214 ) tractable mountaineers. The edifice was in sufficient forwardness to enable Lady Margaret (with that mixture of bounty and superstition that marked her cha- racter) to spread her plenteous board for all who, like herself, had discharged the obligations of supererogatory vows. The conscious- satisfaction of having added to that bank of merit which was at the disposal of the church ; her hope of having her name enrolled among canonized worthies, immortalized in le- gends, and the possession of a hoard of amulets and charms, to drive away bad spirits, and disarm sorcerers, gave such a flow to her spirits, as encouraged her to depart from her usual spare diet, and partake of the feast she had prepared. Instead of officiating in her usual cha- racter of servitor, she covered her sack- cloth vest with an ermine mantle, assumed her coronet, and took her place beneath the state canopy. Her indigent travel- 4 ( 215 ) worn guests crowded the tables ; they were such as it required no solicitude to please, being ever ready to repay her good cheer with the delightful music of praise and intercessive prayer. The repast ended, the pilgrims re- peated their adventures, and extolled the glories and wonders of the shrines they had respectively visited. Human nature, though differently modified by fashion, shews, in all ages and conditions, the same propensities. The merits of the respective patron-saints being equally identified with self-importance, occasioned as warm disputes among our ancestors as those of political leaders, or favourite preachers do in the present times. They who had gone far to offer a taper, or kiss a relic, at the chapel of our lady of Loretto, or St. Denys, despised the indolent worshipper, whose piety had been crippled by a bare-footed trudge to Saint Thomas a Becket, or worn out by ( "6 ) following the wanderings of Saint Cuth- bert. It was in vain to plead, that rising out of his coffin, when he had been stabbed to the heart, lighting the tapers at his own funeral, and after blessing the people, quietly lying down again, to be buried, (all which was certainly done by the saint of Canterbury,) was as extraor- dinary as carrying his own head three miles after his martyrdom, which had been accomplished by the champion of France ; or that the fastidiousness of the northern apostle, about his place of interment, shewed as great delicacy of sentiment as the leaps and jumps of the Santa Casa. Opposed to patriotic ve- neration, for the canonized worth that was the native growth of our own island, was. placed the consequence derived from longer journies, and greater perils ; for in mechanical exertion and bodily endur- ance, the merit of travel was then thought to consist* ( 217 ) To soften the asperity of doughty dis- putants, inflamed by the free circulation of the spiced-wassail bowl, the Countess permitted the representation of one of those mysteries which were the rude pa- rents of the present drama. Our en- lightened age would justly reprobate the indecent mixture of the sublimest Chris- tian doctrines with gross wit and coarse buffoonery ; but in those days the fer- vour of religion was not thought to be damped, by lightly treating the most aw- ful subjects. Father Ambrose was by his office the composer of all the morali- ties and mysteries, which at times of high festival, regaled his devout lady. The actors belonged to the domestic suite, and the costume of the stage suited the composition and the performers. The profane deities, who presided over wit, music, and poetry, (objects of peculiar abhorrence to the confessor,) never con- taminated his consecrated stage. The /VOL, I. L ( 2l8 ) legend of Saint Dunstan formed the en- tertainment of this evening ; the hide of the bullock which had been slaughtered to feed the guests, furnished a proper attire for the representative of the prince of darkness, of whose strength, degrada- tion, and malice, (as he announced in a prologue,) the horns, tail, and hoofs were apt symbols. Thus attired and attended by the seven cardinal vices, the fiend visited the cell of Saint Dunstan, whom his companions tempted succes- sively with flaggons of ale, fair damsels, tinsel crowns, and purses of money. The reception Lucifer met with is well known ; the prototype of the holy ascetic, after converting the vices, and setting them to build a monastery, led the roar- ing demon round the hall, to the infinite delight of the drunken pilgrims, who testified their hostility to Satan, by the practical jests which they showered on his ill-fated proxy, who was at last com- ( 219 ) pelled to cease roaring like an evil spirit, and protest that his torment was more than flesh and blood could endure. In the midst of this scene, a plaintive voice sounded at the gate ; the night was dark and rainy, and a blind harper, with his young guide, craved admittance. That charity which the Countess showered so liberally on all over whom holy church spread its sanctifying pall, was withheld from this species of itinerants, whom she considered as ministering to riotous dissipation, and detaching the spirit from pious converse, by tales of love and chivalry. She commanded that the suppliant should be told that Den- bigh castle harboured no vagrants of his description. " The court," said she, *' is the asylum for jugglers and glee- men ; the King and his minion have stocked the land with these idle varlets : let him go thither, if he wants relief, and not apply to those who know that life L 2 ( 220 ) is too short for the calls of meditation and prayer." " O, for the love and hope of that heaven to which your pious eyes are ever directed, supply me, gracious lady, with a morsel from your table, and allow me to warm ray frozen limbs before your fire !'* This prayer was uttered by a Welsh bard, blind and aged, who had entered the hall, under the protection of the compassionate seneschal. " Send me not from your gates," continued he, raising his hands, " this innocent lad will die ere he can drag me over the Clyde ; I am no licentious troubadour, fattening on the spoil of England : I was born in these mountains, in the house of my prince, who kept his court in a castle which you may see from your turret chamber. The family of my Lord has disappeared, as the river Allwyn sinks into the earth, but his race is not extinct, and I linger in this world to see that race ( ail ) burst forth, like the stream from its cavern, and overwhelm the lands and castles of his enemies. Then, O noble lady ! shall the son of Madoc remember your favour to his desolate harper.'* In pity to the old man's extreme dis- tress, Lady Margaret at last yielded to shelter him that night, but required his departure at the dawn of day. Father Ambrose sanctified this act of lenity, but protested that the sanctity of his charac- ter compelled him to leave the hall ; and he enjoined the Countess not to permit the minstrel to play any hornpipes or dances on an evening consecrated to re- ligious festivity, lest the same mischance should happen which befel the miserable revellers, who having profaned Saint Magnus's day, in the island of Shetland, by such an act of levity, were sentenced by him to dance for ever. Some hun- dred years had elapsed since this curse was inflicted j but a pilgrim, who had ^ 3 ( 222 ) lately visited the spot, assured him the dance continued, accompanied by a ter^ rible piper, whom he would not name, The dancers were reduced to skeletons, whose rattling bones made a dreadful noise. To avoid a similar fate, he en- joined the damsels and pages not to be too familiar with that stroller, on whom he looked significantly, crossed himself, and declared he did not like the appear- ance of his eyes. The harper was pained at a reception, which only relieved his necessities, at the same time that it cast a stigma on his pro- fession. " This is not the way I used to be welcomed to a great man's hall,'* said he, indignantly holding the untasted refreshment his necessities imperiously required : " Has the noble lady no love for those sacred arts of music and poesy, which, as the best and wisest acknow- ledge, purify the fancy, and enlarge the heart ? Can the heiress of the generous ( 223 ) Earls of Salisbury feel no interest in those strains which inspired her grandsire to elevate the red cross banner ? Is the de- scendant of Clifford's daughter ignorant that the songs of minstrels have immor- talized that rose of the world V* •* You must not," replied one of the attendants, " allude to a 'parentage which the Lady Margaret incessantly deplores, and to expiate its incontinence, devotes her days to continual prayer and penance. She hears no music but at divine worship ; she listens to no narratives but the legends of faints. The Earl, her husband, in- deed, has his minstrels, but our lady to- lerates no fanciful conceits, that divert the fancy, nor iove-tales, that affect the heart." " But the ballad which describes the noble crusader, his fidelity to Saint Louis, and his death — " " All are now interdicted themes; — since her piety and compassion have been 1- 4 ( 224 ) imposed upon by the devices of a lying wanton, she submits to the severe morti- fication of never hearing the praises of her grandfather, lest some admixture of a false legend, some allusion to a sinful passion, should mildew the chaste palms which shade that warrior's tomb." " Still,'* said the harper, " she might listen to my only ditty ; I have banished all others from my memory, and I will chaunt this till vengeance rises from be- neath, or descends from above, to blast those whom my song curses. 'Tis no fable or love-tale, but a mournful verity of pity." By this time Lady Margaret's female train, partly subduing the fears the friar inspired, with cautious steps drew nearer to the mendicant. The young heir joined the group, and while the seneschal was wringing the harper's dripping hair and chafing his stiff limbs, the lovely boy crept to his knees, and pressed his ( 225 ) wrinkled hand with his ruby lips. *^ Who put out your eyes ?" said the innocent inquirer. " Grief,*' replied the harper ; " blessed be that artless voice which accosts ine in the tone of kind- ness." The seneschal whispered that it was the noble heir of the De Lacies and Longspees. *' For whom did you grieve?" again inquired the child. " For infants noble and engaging as thyself," replied the old man , and resting his hand on his head bestowed a solemn benediction. " I would fain tell thee their history.** " You shall tell it me every word," replied the young Sir William ; '* but not while you tremble with cold and look so pale. I have brought you a piece of venison and my lady mother's own spiced cup ; I pray you take it, and it will com- fort your heart,^' " I cannot yet," re- plied the fainting harper, '' kindness cuts deeper than neglect ; my Lord, Prince Madoc, had here one of his summer L 5 ( 226 ) houses, and his sons talked to me just as thou dost." Sir William flew to his mother, pro- tested that the old man would die, and soon brought her to his assistance. His disorder was not the effect of disease, but of exhaustion combined with agonizing feelings. His venerable aspect, and the ingenuous delicacy with which he had declined 'the cold charity that despised the sufferer it relieved, had induced even those who could not enter into his mo- tives to respect his character. The at- tention, which he received tranquillized his mind, his powers resumed their sus- pended energies, the tremulous weakness of his voice changed to the deep tenor of harmonious modulation ; and as the kindly glow which warmed his heart spread over his features, his hand spon- taneously swept his harp, and drew from t the most exquisite tones. *' You look cheerful now,*' said the C 227 ) kind boy, who was still stationed at the^ harper's knee ; " if you think it will not overcome you I should like to hear the story of the children for whom you wept yourself blind." " It is never out of my thoughts,'* said the old minstrel ; " and I repeat the ditty I made on the occasion every night before I stretch my limbs in my hard lodging." The Countess yielded to her son's earnest intreaty, and the minstrel sung the following ballad : Part the first. On the banks of sacred Dee, Where through Bromfield rolls his billows,. Didst thou ere a lady see Mournful as its sheltering willows I To the heights of Castle Bran Oft her pleading eye she raises. Then with aspect sad and wan On the rolling river gazes,. 'Tis Lord Audley's frantic daughter. Oft there vigils does she keep,, L 6 ( 22S ) Cambria once she sold to slaughter. Does she now for Cambria weep ? She laments the babes she cherishM, Shrouded by the foaming wave : X-ady, where thy children perish'd, Oft thy victims found a grave. Think when, in the pride of beauty Gaily sailing down the Dec, Modoc's heart, seduced from duty, Lov'd his country's foe in thee. <* England give me that fair maiden And thy vassal I'll remain ;'* Thus thou cam'st with thraldom laden, A jewel' d broach to clasp a chain* Yet within the English pale, Happy in his full desires. Oft thy lord from Chester's vale View'd the castle of his sires. >»■ Glory call'd him there her own Ere he form'd this curs'd alliance; Now on king and England's throne See it bravely frown defiance. ( 229 ) Seat of genius, beauty's dwelling, Vocal once with Hoel's strains. Birthright of his own Lewellyn, Dinas Bran its lord disdains. SpurnM by the injured country he betrayM, Betray'd by that he servM, sad Madoc dies 5 In alien ground his royal bones are laid. And drowning infants sob his obsequies. Rend thy loose locks, vain queen of brief deligkt, Misery's pale vassal henceforth shalt thou be ; The river bore thy rose-buds from thy sight. But English barons tore them from the tree. The minstrel paused, and the eager au- ditory entreated that he might be permitted to proceed. It was feared the Countess would prohibit the indulgence ; but the woes of a mother found a ready listener in one whose maternal feelings seemed the only vestige of unsophisticated nature. She herself signified her desire to hear the remainder, and as she spoke, the tears which copiously flowed down her cheeks testified^ that since the narrative ( 230 ) was true, she was as much interested im Lady Emma Audley's sorrows as in the woes of Saint Ursula and her eleven thousand martyrs. The minstrel resumed his harp. Part the second. O for the ring-dove's piercing cry When first her plundered nesf she mourns j. O for the mercy-asking eye The lamb upon the butcher turns. O for that soul-transforming call, That strain the royal psalmist knew, When from the troubled breast of Saul CompelPd the evil spirit flew. Then still might young Lewellyn deck His forehead with the wreaths of spring. And still around his mother's neck Might beauteous GryfFyd laughing cling. But though their lust of power I saw, Though well their cruel hearts I knew, My harp forgot those tones of awe Which can the murderer* a^age subdue. ( *3i ) It might have savM, though beauty failM, Gay as the morn, as even mild, Heaven's menac'd wrath had sure prevailed, And kept from death each harmless child. Wild from my harp the strings I tore, And cursM my eyes and cursM the light : The ban was heard ; — for never more Has day refreshed my blasted sight, Since I beheld with arms entwin'd These lilies floating on the Dee, My master's sons ; — though weak of mind. He was a gracious lord to me. But she, the cause of Madoc's shame, That Norman witch, that fatal fair, That Emma, yet forbear to blame. The fulness of her anguish spare. On the tall Scaur with fixed eye. Scarce by her maids withheld she stands, Beholds the beauteous boys glide by, ' And spreads her ineffectual hands. Say not by friends the deed was done. Nor name its price, ye castles proud, For which to Henry's tyrant son With vassal homage Madoc bow'd. ( 232 ) Thus in the hour when spectres reign. Shall conscience whisper to her ear. When in their dripping rests again The spirits of her sons appear. But if the? sharpness of her w«es Admits one thought of Cambria's weal, Haste holy angels and disclose A vision her despair to heal ; HerGlendore, at the mountain. farm. Of Madoc's stem the only flow*r, Protected by the faithful arm Which bore him from his guardian's power. How sweet he sleeps ! the wilding rose Sheds on his sunny locks its leaves ; The young avenger sleeps, nor knows How sore his frantic mother grieves. In mental sight I see him now The dew from his wet tresses shake; The beams of morning gild thy brow, last of Madoc's line, awake I Awake and point the blunted spear. Try on thy Umbs the antique mail ; From earth thy father's standard rear, And shake it at the English pale ! ( 233 ) Old Mortimer now stands aghast, Oft as thy early fame he hears; And, like the death-storm's withering blast, Thy rip'ning manhood Surrey fears. At the mention of Surrey's name Lady Margaret started and commanded silence. A scene of inexplicable confusion ensued. The alarmed minstrel dropped his harp, feeling on his shoulder the stern grasp of the seneschal. " Why this violence ?'* exclaimed the old man, as he was dragged from the presence of the faintingCountess. " How have I offended ? Why are the laws of hospitality broken ?" " Are you ignorant," answered the se- neschal, "' that the right noble Earl you accuse of murder is contracted to the daughter of this illustrious lady, who exer- cises the right of criminal jurisdiction in these demesnes? You must be kept close prisoner till her highness knows her mind, or rather the mind of her confessor, as to what shall be your punishment; butas ( 234 ) the holy father hates all the race of you, and is better pleased to save souls than pre- serve bodies, I would not have you ex- pect any other favour than that he should shrive you himself, and give you ab- solution just as you are under the gal- lows/' " Does the father think truth deserves the punishment of death ?*' inquired the harper. " Do*nt name the word truth," answered the seneschal, "or you will not get Christian burial. He forswore her fifty years ago, and that's the only oath he has ever kept ; but the worst of it is, he makes us all keep up his quarrels* Whether you will be carbonadoed alive, or cut up into little thongs and hung up to dry in the sun, I know not ; only as I take you to be an honest old fellow, I would advise you when you come to be examined, beware of the word truth, and own yourself one of the lying rascals wha ( ^35 ) invent all- hallow e'entide ditties to fright the good wives out of their senses ; and then perhaps Father Ambrose will take you into his service to new tinker some of his own worn out falsehoods.'* *' I know I belong to a proscribed race, whom your late king honoured by esteeming them the enemies of usurpa- tion," said the harper. ** I grieve for having unwittingly offended the illus- trious lady who sheltered me ; but as the present king has relaxed the severity of his father's statutes, I am not by my profession amenable to punishment ; nor will the heiress of the Longspees attaint the virtues of her race by punishing one who has partaken of her hospitality. Surely the honourable lady must rather bless the instrument employed by Pro- vidence to shew her the mine delved under the house of Surrey, before she fixed her own fair edifice by its side to share the desolation. This I will repeat; ( 236 ) I saw the murder committed, I can name the instrument, the motive, the man who commanded and abetted the damned deed J and torture shall not induce me to conceal my testimony. If the lady wishes to hear no more, let her send me away unquestioned/* Meantime Lady Margaret, shut up with her confessor, described to him the horrid charge the itinerant brought against her intended son-in-law. The rapacity of Father Ambrose, or to give it another name, his zeal for the prosperity of an order which forbade the accumulation of individual property, would have led him to inclose within its unalienable precincts the united earldoms of Lincoln and Sa- lisbury ; but he well knew that the spirit of De Lacy, equally prone to resist regal or priestly encroachments, would minstrel of Prince Madoc, a man whom he knew to be a witness, and the only living one, of his early atrocious crime. Blind, old, and friendless, this wandering son of penury had escaped the enares, and defied the power of himself Ttnd his coadjutor in guilt, to reveal a deed which, more than twenty years ago, " the river swept to the briny main.** To ( 3^3 ) reveal it too to the Earl of Lincoln, and to his contracted bride. — What should he do ? return and confront Lloyd ; and bj the power of his voice, if not by his argu- ments, overwhelm the feeble wanderer. That would be to admit that he was con- scious of a charge, to which, bya voluntary defence, he gave validity. It would be better to reserve his eloquence till Lloyd's story was urged by the De Lacies as the ground of breaking the contract. ' To his request to be admitted to Alicia's presence, an answer was returned, that her sorrow was too fresh to see a stranger. Undismayed by a reproof which spoke the light in which she was resolved to view him, his determined perseverance now adopted the only way by which he could insinuate his suit. Founding his opinion of Alicia not only on the letter which first roused him from the stupor of secure possession to the perturbation of VOL. I. P ( 3H ) desire, but on her looks and sentiments ^n the day of the tournameni:, heargued^ that probably her pride disdained the passive transfer of her person, and the only means of securing it, would be an act which wore the semblance of high generosity, and honourable confidence in native desert. Persuaded that the only man he could fear as a rival would never descend from the sublime objects of his lieaven-directed ambition to any earthly alliance, he resolyed to correct the un- favourable opinion she might have formed of himself, as of a sullen tyrant perti- naciously resolved to win, but disdaining to woo. He sent her an epistle in which he stated, that as a true knight, bound by chivalry to pay meet homage to the fair, he had resolved to release her from the vows that would bring her to his arms only a reluctant captive, the slave of duty, and would woo her with humble, steady, jdevoted service, till her sex's pride being ( 315 ) fully gratified, she should become the blushing votress of love. But though he left her thus free, and would only accept her hand on his knees as a voluntary gift, the willing symbol of a yielded heart, he would to the full front of defiance main- tain his right and title to her person, against the changing purposes of her father, or the suit of any rival, even if he were the son of a king who should dare to interfere a presumptuous claim. Thus, with the mock humiliation of a slave, and the imperiousness of a despot, he con- cluded with protesting perfect obedience to her will, and eternal enmity-to all her lovers. Scarcely had this letter been dispatched when Eubulo le Strange, who fled from Denbigh to theprotectionof his hereditary lord, arrived from Sandal Castle, and nar- rated to the Earl of Surrey every circum- stance connected with young De Lacy's death. On hearing that his servant kad p 2 > ( 3^6 ) been subjected to the indlghity of im- prisonment, and the fear of execution as its cause, nay, that his own name had been implicated in the foul charge of murder, he gave vent to his indignation in that strong language of virtuous abju- ration which would have better become a man whose heart was indeed incapable of fostering such a black design. With real displeasure he listened to the chain of cir- cumstances which had excited the sus- picion, cursed Eubulo's folly for leading the child into danger, and his cowardice for denying what he had done. Alarmed at the prospect of his page's faults being made a pretext to break the contract, he at first resolved to prove his grief and attachment, by sacrificing the obnox- ious though undesigning cause of this calamity; but as he stamped with his foot, and smote his hands, in all the violence of feudal tyranny, his terrified vassal grasped his knees, and entreated mercy till he had finished his tale. He then described how the Countess of Lin- coln and her attendants had been agitated the preceding evening by the song of a wandering harper, who described the premature death of the sons of a Welsh chieftain. The voice of Eubulo faultered ere he closed his story 5 but the conscience of the Earl required no more, his hand dropped from his half-drawn sword, and he sunk into the arms of his attendants. After a temporary suspension of sense, Surrey again surrendered his mind to th(, dominion of a passion which, the less it retained of hope, the more it assumed the character of malignant obstinacy. He determined to persuade himself, that if he could gain opportunities of addressing the lady, neither the fables of an old bard, the slanders of an officious priest, nor even the imprecations of a splenetic, bigotted mother, would be insurmountable im- pediments. He was, indeed, denied that P 3 ( 3^8 } mter course which would have allowed him an insight into her character. Their first and last interview was at the tournament, where he felt the fascination of her beauty, admired her intelligence, and read in every glance disdain of his pretensions. This he attributed to resentment at their having remained in abeyance ; and he argued, that what had been long expected must have been long desired, and would, unless some happier rival interfered, at last be welcome. A pre-attacliment was all he dreaded ; and he now recollected that Eubulo's long residence in De Lacy's family must make him intimate with its secret history : to him, therefore, he again applied, not with the stern menace of an absolute lord, ready to doom him to (Jeath or torture, but with the insinuating grace of a master whom he might serve and oblige, by divulging what was im- portamt to his peace. During his residence at Pontefract^ ( 3^9 ) Eubulo, the universal darling of all the damsels, had more peculiarly been the- gallant of the fair, imprudent, treacherous Beatrice. These volatile lovers had met at Wallingford, and to impress her swain with an idea of her importance, and detach him from every rival, the girl ini" parted to him all her lady's secrets, not only relating the visit of the noble pil- grims, but, what Alicia believed unknown, save to the chaste moon and silent stars?, her devotion to the Earl of Lancaster. Lord Surrey's questions to his page wore the air of a man whose affection had not so far outstepped his judgment, as to induce him to compound his honour or his peace for the possession of a fair and wealthy bride. Eubulo frankly owned what himself had observed of a mistress he had long served and admired. Bred in retirement, affectionate, and romantic, was it to be wondered that she should discover, in an illustrious noble- P 4 ( 3^0 ) man who visited her in very extraordinary circumstances, a combination of every visionary excellence v^rhich her fancy had been long accumulating, or that the per- son whom she considered as a bar on the freedom of her choice, should be coupled in her mind with tyranny, unworthiness, and every loathed property that a young lady can associate with the suitor she dislikes. Such was the intelligence Eubulo communicated s and Surrey still believed it w^as all a trick of fancy, and that his own love of splendor, external gaiety, active habits, and enterprizing spirit, would better accord with a youth- ful and flattered beauty, than the grave deportment and mortified manners of a man whom patriotism alone kept out of a cloister, could they but be produced in strong and happy contrast. He heard with pleasure, from the report of Beatrice, that neither the charms nor the attentions of the lady withdrew the eyes of Lan- C 321 ) caster from his heavenward contempla- tions, nor awoke any perceptible emotion in his frigid heart. A woman so full of spirit and sensibility could not long con- tinue to prefer this moving marble, dressed in the stiff drapery of a festival saint. Surrey, however, was not formed to wait the slow changes of female caprice. His course must be rapid, vigorous, and de- cided; and while he gained the daughter by his generosity, he determined to awe the father by a display of power. The descendant of royal Gundred was not to be criminally accused, nor coldly avoided, by the heir of the steward of Chester^ ^ 5 ( 322 ) CHAP. XI; If theh true lovers ever have been crost, It stands as an edict in destiny; Thifn let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs. Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. Shakespeare. A T the banquet, given in honour of the reconciliation of the King and his barons, the former entered, leaning on the Earl of Surrey's arm, and Gaves- ton addressed him with florid compli- ments in honour of the hereditary loyalty of the house of Warren, a virtue equally conspicuous in their present lineal repre- sentative, whom, with his noble brother- in-law, the Karl of Arundel, he was proud to call his friends. It is one of the evils incident to successful opposition to ( 3^3 ) the royal prerogative, however justly excited, that each doughty champion believes he individually possesses that influence of which the concentrated force has extorted concession. Surrey and Arundel assumed the state of those who could make or unmake kings, Gaveston took a larger stride, spoke no more of his intended travels, but whis- pered hfs new friends, with looks full of importance, and words destitute of mean* ing. The courtiers re-edited their worn-^ out jests at the ill-made mantles, and ex- ploded manners of the rustic lords ; and hinted that the devotion of the heir of Mortimer to the Queen, and the seces-- sion of the house of Warren from the popular cause, placed the King in a situation to deliberate before he sub- scribed to all the required conditions ; whib Edward, alike sanguine and vacil- lating, magnified the strength of his new ally, and insinuated a belief that he p 6 C 324 ) would interpose his authority, to procure the ratification of the long suspended contract. Lancaster viewed the scene with deep disgust, and observed to Warwick, that such gross perversion of principle tempt- ed a sincere heart to renounce its loyalty. *' Rather," answered Beauchamp, " let it bind you faster to the object of jour dearest allegiance. My Lord of Lan- caster, arc you the only person in Eng- land who cannot see the value of the prize set before you, or the means of obtaining it ? Beauty courts you not only by its smiles but by its dangers. From which of your royal ancestors have you derived this cold indifference to female charms; this austere contempt of all that the world counts worthy its soli- citude ? Shew me the Plantagenet who could resist the influence. of love! Name me a knip^ht of the house of Artois, who forgot its allegiance to persecuted beauty ! ( 3^5 ) Awake, Lancaster, and bind thy services to England, by the sweetest ties that ever united man to honour and hap- piness/' " I know to whom you allude,*' answered the Earl of Lancaster, " and will frankly answer the friend, whose fciith I have proved. My heart Is not cold, nor is my perception darkened. When I first saw that lady in her father's castle, I was returning from a service I could not execute, in a state of the deepest penance and mortification, be- cause a prince of Edward's blood had been compelled to appeal to the lenity of Scottish depredators. At the time when the freshness of my grief, as a de- feated general, pressed my soul with an inexpressible burden of cares and shames, the Lady Alicia, ignorant of my rank, soothed my affliction with modest sym- pathy, and entered into the miseries of England, with a warmth becoming the ( 326 ) descendant of those whose blood had helped to cement cur country's chartered rights. Charmed, ahke by her beauty and piety, had she been free, and the British Lion reposing in honourable se- curity, I would have loved, wooed, and, am I presumptuous in e^iying, won ihis spotless chrysolite ? But was that a mo- ment for me to become a happy suitor ? Where had I left ray companionr^ in arms ? Confined in the border-fortresses, depending on the severitv of winter, rather than on the league I made with Bruce, to keep the ravaging moss- troopers from consuming their forage, and scouring the country to the very walls of Berwick and Carlisle. I was not journeying to court a generous and yielding maid, but to sneak truth to the cold, dull ear of a flattered sovereign. The associate of my journey was the heart of my kinsman and king, a sacred relic requiring to be inhumed in the ( 327 ) hallowed earth, where it had often felt the generous throb of Christian valour. Was the disguise I had assumed, to hide my shames and the shames of England, to be cast aside before I had compelled the King to look upon me as the repre- sentative of a mourning nation ? or, should the plumes of love be the appendages of the pilgrim's cloak, and the penitent's sackcloth ? No, Beau- champ ; I told my throbbing heart she was the wife of another, and I strove to believe that Surrey deserved her. I have since known him ; I need not nicely in- quire if the jealousy of envy has made me misread him ; his actions have spoken too intelligibly for candour to say, this is a man whom virtue might reform, and beauty reward ! Alicia de Lacy must never be given to one whom boyish avarice connived at consigning to a watery grave the destitute orphans whom his word might have preserved. ( 328 ) " Hear me yet further : I own to thee, I love Alicia, and this sword shall, if necessary, maintain, even to my death, that she is liberated from a con- tract which entrammelled her person before her judgment could assist her choice. Here I pause, nor will I sue for her favour, while her assent might tar- nish her fair fame. Posterity shall not blend the name of this chaste and noble lady, with those seductive beauties record- ed as the disturbers of the peace of king- doms, the dissolvers of friendship, the breakers of leagues, the Helens, the Briseis, or the Lavinias of the age. If when the concordance between the King and the barons is ratified, and each man, roused to a worthy consciousness of self- importance, remembers that England expects him to do his duty ; — if a well arrayed band, under an able leader, sets out to beard the proud insulting Scot ia ( 3^9 ) his own confines ; — and prodigality, and Gaveston are carried, by favouring gales, far, far from England ; — or even if, be- fore that blessed era shall arrive, the paternal arm proves too weak to shelter maiden dignity, and her favour prefers me to be her champion, then. Beau- champ, shall this peerless maid be the sweet tie to bind me to England ; though I could not take a warmer interest in her welfare, nor love my country more than I do, even if all the transports that ever crowned domestic bliss made me no longer consider this world a wilderness of thorns, but rather as the outer court of heaven*" Beauchamp listened to this full dis- closure with a pleasure that did not wholly arise from his proud exultation, at calling this heroic lover his friend. His own happiness was intimately con- nected with the certainty that Lancaster's ( 330 3 pre-engaged affections left no chance of his hereafter becoming the rival of his dearest hopes ^ and we must now un- ravel* the cause of his indiiference to Alicia's beauty, and his anxiety to en- gage Lord Lancaster by the tie of marriage. The habits of that age, alike pious and martial, induced an extraordinary respect for the memory of those prede- cessors who were celebrated for their devotion or their valour ; and the tradi- tionary narratives preserved by every noble family, were nearly as copious as the re- cords in the public archives. Through the claim of inheritance, from the celebrated Guy Earl of Warwick, the same high, chivalrous spirit ^ seemed to descend on all who possessed that title ; and his cherished remembrance was preserved, not only by the frequent adoption of his name, but also by connecting many striking scenes with his identity. Nursed ( 33^ ) in apartments where the storied arras related his heroic deeds, or in a tower^ ennobled by his fame, accustomed, from their childhood, to look forward to the ability of drawing his sword as the test of manhood, and permission to sit under his banner, as the noblest reward of their youthful hardihood, — the Earls of War- wick imbibed and transmitted, through a long race of worthies, that desire of honourable distinction which has blended their names with the most celebrated scenes of English story. Close by the shores of Avon stands a cliff, still remarkable as the spot, where, after his martial achievements, the mighty Guy built a chapel, led a hermit's life, and, at last, submitted to the common fate of nature. Hither, with filial reve- rence, on the anniversary of his death, Guy de BeaucKamp, in the early bloom of youth, came to make an offering, and pray for the peace of his soul. The ( 2>Z^ ) office for the dead was performed ; the solemn antiphon alternately chaunted by the responding choir ; the young Earl of Warwick, kneeling at the altar, de- posited his gifts, and silently repeated the paternoster, while the priest, elevat- ing the host, proclaimed the requiescat. The enthusiasm of devotion melt- ed Beauchamp's heart, and after the service closed, he dismissed his train, and devoted the remainder of the day to lonely musings in this awful spot. *' This place,*' said he, " is the seat of pleasure. Here are chrystal springs, meadows ever green, mossy caves, a soft murmuring fall of waters under the rock, and, to crown all, solitude and tranquillity*. Here, in a retreat delight- ful and serene, satisfied and secure, the delicious contrast of those rugged steps. * This description is copied from Camden's Britannnia. ^ ( 333 ) by which he climbed the arduous heights of renown, my exalted forerunner pre- pared himself for that heaven to which our grateful praise now follows his beati- fied soul ! Here nature, in lovely lone- liness, revealed her simple graces to his view, taught him the unsatisfactoriness of worldly delights, the deceitfulness of friendship, ambition, glory, and even love ! Here the long-treasured idea of the Lady Phyllis faded from his mind, and devotion absoi'bed every other senti- ment. Here too, could I abide a willing hermit, and, contemplating the certainties of eternity, renounce all care for the fallacies of time.*' It was but a transient fit of worldly disgust which drew from young Beau- champ the expression of sentiments, more consonant to the high wrought bursts of feeling which the imposing ceremonies of the Romish church is cal- culated to excite, than to his age or ge- ( 334 ) neral character. The shades of evening gradually descended, when he heard the vesper hymn to the Virgin, sweetly chaunted by a female voice, and pre- sently after saw a lady leave the chapel accompanied by a priest. Twilight ad- ded to her attractions, gave sublimity to her air, and softness to her features. Unconscious of having any spectators in that retired spot, she had thrown off her veil, and the evening breezes tossing aside her redundant locks, shewed the solemn expression which devotion had left upon her countenance, and a cheek still wet with its- tears. She was con- versing with the priest, and Beauchamp heard her, as she passed by, fervently pronounce the name of Lancaster. An instantaneous revolution took place in his ideas. Solitude might, in declining life, afford a salutary balm to the wounds sensibility receives in its journey through the world j but he now recollected that 6 ( 3jS ) Adam did not fully accede to the Crea- tor's fiat, or find measureless content in Paradise, till Eve, by her smiles, sup- plied that soul-satisfying charm^ without which, even the garden of Eden was rather a fine picture than a full enjoy- ment. Not presuming to trespass on the pri- vacy of the fair devotee, he followed her at a respectful distance, till he saw her join a company of horsemen at the bot- tom of the cliff, and ride towards Kenil- worth. He inquired her name of the returning priest, and learnt that she was the orphan ward of the Queen of Na- varre, who, frequently accompanying the infirm Earl Henry in his visits to some salubrious springs in the neigh- bourhood, came, in the protection of his escort, to offer up her vows in this chapel for her benefactress and her family. " Did she then pray for both the brothers?" Yes, but oftenest and ( 536 y most energetically for the Earl of Lan- caster. " For what cause ?" The Lady could have assigned a- just one ; he was her intended husband and a brave war- rior ; and the chantry of Earl Guy was founded, not only to pray for his soul, but for all who were faithful in love and in arms. After this rencounter, it was no longer the sylvan pleasures of the forest of Arden, that fixed young Beauchamp's residence in his feudal castle ; nor was it only in chivalry and devotion that he wished to emulate his great progenitor. He had served under the Earl of Lancaster, he was honoured with his esteem and confidence, and marvelled much that he had never heard of the engagement of which the priest spoke with so much con- fidence. As the friend of her son, he gained admission to the Queen of Na- varre's castle, and had frequent oppor- tunities of ^seeing the lovely, affectionate 5 ( ZZ7 ) Matilda, discharging all those domestic duties which heighten the witcheries of beauty, or even supply its absence where nature has denied face and feature. Love soon ripened in a heart, warm, ro- mantic, and capable of lasting impres- sions ; it was no breach of honour, as he found she had never seen Lancaster, yet it was rendered painful by a con- sciousness of the superior merit of his brave absent friend. One evening as Warwick was paying his devotions in Guy's chapel, his orisons were interrupted by Matilda, who came, as she was frequently wont, to join in the service. The lustre of her eyes was dimmed with tears ; Beaucharap inquired the cause; but, though she had honoured him with the title of her most esteemed friend, she would not acknow- ledge that they sprang from the expected visit of her destined lord. She spoke, and truly, of the declining health of her patroness, and the dangers of a friendless VOL. I. Q ( 338 ) orphan. More artless and ignorant of her own perfections than any rustic beauty of the hamlet, she had never suspected the existence of that passion in Warwick's breast, to which her de- jection and lamentations gave so fair an opportunity of avowal. The lover did not permit it to pass unimproved, but craved to be her knight, protector, and husband. Matilda blushed and wept, professed disgust at the world, declared Warwick increased her miseries ; she had hoped to have found in him a dis- interested friend, ready to second all her wishes. His wife she could never be ; love was the only subject on which she mu^ nots hear him speak. She be- lieved — she feared this must be their last interview. She bade him farewell, left him, and returned to say, she should ever pray for his happiness. The |ieart of Warwick was too sin- cerely attached to subscribe to this en- joined separation J and he obtained a ( 339 ) mitigation of its horror, by solemnly promising that the; name of love should no more pass his lips, but that he would be the disinterested friend she required. In a few days he again visited Kenil- worth, and found Matilda gaily smiling, frank and happy. Misconstruing the change, and knowing that she had, in the interim, seen Lancaster, he pre- sumed that her satisfaction arose from every impediment to their nuptials being removed ; and not from the termination of that painful struggle between love and gratitude, deference to the wishes of her benefactress, and a lively sense of Warwick's merits, which had so cruelly agitated her gentle heart. The appre- hensions which flew from the tranquil- lized bosom of the maiden, were trans- ferred to that of Warwick ; and the playful ease of her manner, instead of renewing confidence and inspiring hope, enjoined silence and ^egat despair. The destined wife of Lancaster wanted no Q 2 ( 340 ) other friend, and Beauchamp imposed on himself the solemn duty of tearing her image from his heart. To facilitate this self-conquest, absence ■was indispensable. In a voice, tremulous from indecision, he bade her farewell. He was going, he said, to join the con- federated barons ; and, if there was peace for England, and war with Scotland, she would hear of him at the gates of Dum- barton, Matilda now turned pale, took his hand, and gently asked if she had offended him. What could she do with- out Beauchamp, her friend, her knight, her protector ? The young Earl listened with astonishment. Gould this be female •vanity, artfully seeking to increase the number of its slaves ? or was it modest sympathy, kindly endeavouring to soften the anguish of rejection ? The latter conclusion best suited her amiable, art- less character. He pressed the offered hand to his heart, and vowed no man should deprive him of the titles she had ( 341 ) bestowed. Yet, as he turned to leave her, a sudden start of wayward jealousy- made him ask, why she required any other champion than the Earl of Lan- caster. Matilda's blue eyes instantly as- sumed an indignant expression, " No, Beauchamp," replied she, " no request of mine shall ever offend the ear of the Earl of Lancaster.'* Astonishing ! Could Lancaster have slighted, nay, (for such her manner seemed to indicate,) have wronged this charming maid ? Matilda would give no explanation ; and from that moment, the generous, though still enamoured War- wick, laboured to convince his own heart, that it would be base and selfish for him to attempt to interpose any obstacles to an attachment so fervent, and yet so de- licate and resigned, ^^ what he supposed Matilda entertained for Lancaster. He came to Wallingford ostensibly, as a baron leagued to obtain from the King such concessions as might preserve Eng- Q 3 ( 34^ ) land ; but actually stimulated by the nearer interest of reading the heart of Lancaster, and governing the impulses of his own, by the discoveries which he made. Versed in the indications of love, he saw Iiis sincere, but subdued affection to Alicia, whose lively admiration of his heroic virtue scarcely affected any dis- guise. To endeavour to procure the union of those whom love had already joined, was not treachery to Matilda, whose high sense of decorum would ever reject the vow extorted by pity. Cherish- ing a hope of ultimate success, and feeling no reluctance from wounded pride, at being the second choice of one whose first was the Earl of Lancaster, he would often say to himself, " I will copy him whose pre-eminence in fame charmed this fair maiden's soul, before her eyes could direct her heart. She was not won by feature or complexion ; and if I become another Lancaster, her love may preserve the dietiACtness of iden- 8 ( 343 ) tity, and she will see theman of her first choice in his faithful imitator." It is nature tiiat we aim at copying,,not ideal perfection. We appeal to the heart of every lover to excuse Warwick, if he attended less to the business of the con- cordance than to promote a marriage, to which he looked as the harbinger of his own ; nay, even if he did this, without nicely balancing, in the scale of his judg- ment, the dispositions of the pair he. wished to unite, or considering, if they really were so well adapted to promote the happiness of each other, as their in- clinations had induced them to believe. We must now return to the Earl of Lancaster, who expecting intelligence from his lieutenant, at Berwick, admitted to a private conference a stranger, who called himself a servitor, from the monas- tery of Lindisfarn ; but on throwing off his hood and cloak, discovered Lord Surrey's retainer, Eubulo le Strange. ( 344 ) He clasped the knees of Lancaster with the eagerness of a man imploring life, and, at the same time, only requesting that his protection might depend on the veracity and importance of his communi- cations. These, he said, related to the honour, liberty, and life of the lady Alicia De Lacy. Lancaster was all at- tention, bidding him remember, that though he was not kneeling at the con- fessional chair, he was equally in the pre- sence of Omniscience. , Eubulo proceeded : he confessed him- self the unintentional cause of the Earl of Lincoln's paternal anguish, which consideration steadily determined him not to add to his afflictions by a volun- tary crime. Lie detail d the circum- stances of young Sir Willuim's death, and thus exonerated his master from all participation, but added, that as the un- fortunate coincidences which had con- nected his name with that event must make him hateful and suspicious in a 5 ( 345 ) father's eyes, he could not discover to Lord Lincoln a project laid to remove his daughter from his protection. He knew the interest which the Earl of Lancaster took in that noble family, and on his honour and wisdom he relied ; only begging, that when the plot was frustrated by the prevention he would point out, he might be received into his service ; as nothing short of torture and death would be his doom, should he again fall into the power of his offended lord. His eye watched the Earl during this speech ; but the conclusions which the intelligent hero drew from this proem eluded the craft of Eubulo, who proceeded to state, that encouraged by the favour of the King, who promised ta shield the act by his authority, and the revengeful counsels of Gaveston, who was eager to afflict a man by whom he had been mortified and exiled, Surrey had resolved to carry off Alicia. The ( 346 ) time fixed for the enterprize was the morrow, when the King removed tndoa.