Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

assisted at the dressing of his wounds, and, to amuse him, sang songs composed by Ronsard and Desportes.

his

At last, the fatal day came, and Caylus expired in the king's arms; last words were: "Oh, my king, my kind king!" When they brought him the sacrament, and exhorted him to repent and confess his sins, he screamed, in blended accents of grief and rage, "I am not yet in hell, demons! why do you torment me? What is the use of all this? Your God abandoned me to myself during my life, and I do the same to him now. With this awful imprecation, Caylus died in terrible convulsions. For the honour of the last Valois, we will not recount the extravagancies he committed. He wept, groaned, upbraided heaven and earth; and, when he had fairly exhausted his tears and lamentations, had the coffin in which De Maugiron's body was embalmed, placed alongside Caylus's bed, and went, alternately, from bed to bier, embracing the bodies of his friends, and regretting their untimely fate. A few days before the combat, he had placed two ear-rings, of inestimable value, in Caylus's ears; these he now removed, and hung them to his chaplet of beads.

All the court received orders to attend the funeral of the minions in deep mourning, at the church of St. Paul and over them was erected a superb mausoleum, which the Leaguers destroyed, during the troubles in 1588. The day after the duel, the princes of Guise and their friends, interred De Riberac and Schomberg in the church of St. Gervais, and over their tomb swore to avenge their death.

THE RED SEA.

Mr. Madden, a late traveller in Syria and Egypt, says, "One of my first objects at Suez was, to ascertain if the sea was fordable opposite the town at ebbtide. All whom I asked, assured me of the contrary. I inquired for an Indian sailor who wished to earn a dollar by crossing the gulf. At eight in the evening, a man came to me and offered to make the attempt. I directed him to walk straight across as far as it was possible to do so, and to hold his hands over his head as he walked along. He was in the water forthwith; he proceeded slowly and steadily, his hands above his head, and in nine minutes he was at the other side of the Red Sea. On his return, he told me what I knew to be a fact, that he had walked every step across―

the deepest part being about the middle of the gulf, where the water was up to his chin. I proceeded now to follow his course, and gave him another dollár to cross over before me; and as I was nearly eight inches taller than my guide, where his chin was in the water my long beard was quite dry. The tide was now coming in fast, and, by the time we reached the middle of the sea, my Indian thought it imprudent to proceed farther as I was not an expert swimmer. Had we remained ten minutes longer, we should inevitably have shared Pharaoh's fate; for the opposite bank was perceptibly diminishing, and at ten o'clock the sea, which two hours before was hardly more than the breadth of the Thames at London bridge, was from two to three miles broad. The difference between the ebb and flow I ascertained to be six feet two inches." Mr. Madden goes on to say, that he considers himself the only European who had walked across; in which he is mistaken. Napoleon and some French officers crossed the Red Sea higher, and very narrowly escaped drowning on their return. [Query: Does the above throw any additional light on the passage of the Israelites?]

THE GIPSIES.

G. M. J.

The most probable hypothesis respecting these singular people is, that they are the descendants of certain bands of Egyptians who emigrated, and dispersed in time throughout the different parts of the globe, on the conquest of their own country by Selim, in 1517. In Turkey they are called Zinganees, from Zinganens, under whom they first revolted. They are very numerous, according to Mr. Twiss in his Travels, in Murcia, Cordova, Cadiz, and Ronda, and are called by the French, Bohemiens; by the Italians, Zingari; by the Germans, Zingenners; the Dutch, Heydenen (Pagan); the Portuguese, Siganors; and the Spaniards, Gitanos (in Latin, Aingari). Their language is peculiar to themselves, and every where so similar that they are all undoubtedly derived from one source-probably a mixture of Egyptian and Ethiopian.

G. M. J.

To be agreeable, a man should have his mind open to receive what pleases others, and not be obstinately bent on his own pleasure. Be singular in nothing but goodness; and uncomplaisant in nothing but vice; for singularity in trifles is ridiculous.

LONDON:

Published by Effingham Wilson, Junior, 16, King William Street, London Bridger Where communications for the Editor (post paid) will be received.

[Printed by Manning and Smithson, Ivy Lane.]

OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE. No. 113.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 27, 1836.

Price Two-Pence,

[graphic][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

Thus I won my Genevieve,
My own-my beauteous bride.
Coleridge.

THE Sun, which for the last hour had been struggling with impotent strength against the thickly gathering darkness, seemed, as it sunk behind the vast bosom of Slieve-na-Maun, to raise a conflagration throughout the sterile waste, disclosing by the glare of light the inmost retreats of the most secluded valleys, and the storm which was now about to burst with fearful violence, forced two human beings, that appeared in the rugged and impervious wood, to take shelter under a large and giant oak, which cast over many a fair rood of ground its noble branch, and losing its lofty top in the world of clouds, seemed as if proudly claiming the defence of the other trees,

of which it appeared justly entitled.. -"Sound again a blast on thy horn, my faithful Mac Arthy," said the taller of the two, who by the respect paid him by the other, as well as his noble bearing, appeared the superior (he was in truth the Earl of Ormond, and Mac Arthy his follower, or henchman).

Mac Arthy wound a long note, but with no better success than that of raising the winds, which howled as if in anger at their mastery having been for a moment usurped.

"Curse on the loitering knaves," impatiently ejaculated the first speaker, "how could they have suffered us to outstrip them thus?"

"You may blame, perhaps, the fleetness of your lordship's horse, as well as your own good horsemanship," replied the henchman, with the tone of one who was accustomed to say flattering things to his young master.

"Probably so,' was the reply; "but as the night was advancing, they should have been more on the alert." A long silence followed, which was broken only

by the loud roar of the winds, as they rushed in aerial masses through the sky, and burst through the trees, crashing and breaking the tender boughs, while the continued dash of the torrent, swollen by the distant rain, made but harsh music to the ears of those who listened. At length, turning abruptly to his follower, the Earl said, "Mac Arthy, know you' where abouts we are?"

"This forest is in your lordship's territory."

"Then, good fellow, get on the top of this oak, and wind thy horn lustily. As I live, I heard the trampling of some horse."

The henchman obeyed; and after some minutes a horse and stranger horseman emerged from the covert which lined the path.

"Saw ye aught of Lord Ormond's train?" hastily asked Mac Arthy.

"No," the stranger replied.

"Is there any shelter save this oak tree in these parts?" inquired the Earl. "If your lordship, whose tenant I am, will deign to accept what my poor house affords, it is at your service."

"Thanks worthy yeoman," joyfully exclaimed Ormond, as he leaped on the back of his tired courser, and, accompanied by Mac Arthy, followed the lead of his providential succourer.

In good time had he left: the bursts of wind, at first broken and at intervals, had now reached their grand climax, and in one united tempest seemed as if an artillery of air had been let loose to vent itself on that devoted forest. Scarcely had the Earl and his followers emerged from the precincts of the lofty tree, when, with tremendous force, its huge trunk was torn from its parent earth, and its massive head lay prostrate on the ground, bearing in its fall many of the surrounding trees, which snapt before its resistless weight as steel before a sledge. It was the advance of a hur ricane which had burst, and with the rumbling noise of many chariots swiftly driving over a stony street, fast boomed the winds, howling and crashing, amid the sturdy trees of the forest, as a dull white light partially lit up the atmosphere.

Blithely did the young nobleman spur on from this dreary scene, and after half an hour's good riding arrived at the house of his tenant.

"Cead mille faltheath to the house of M'Cormac," exclaimed the host, as he held the stirrup of his lord.

* Hundred thousand welcomes.

"Many thanks for your timely aid," he replied, as he was shewn into the interior of the dwelling.

Fashion does a great deal in altering, and in some instances improves what comes under its surveillance: the polished oak-wainscotings, tesselated pavements, and richly-wrought tapestry of the "olden time," have given place to flock paper, macadamized yards, and stuff hangings; but we will not lose our time about such matters; taking for granted that "whatever is is best," we pursue our "round unvarnished tale."

In those days, a long table running from end to end of the hall, usually the largest apartment in a mansion, received at its hospitable board, every inmate of the dwelling. An elevated portion, termed dais, was the portion allotted to the superiors of the family, and their guests; the rest was for the servants, herds, &c. At the head of the dais was placed the Earl of Ormond, next the host, then his wife, and on the opposite side sat Eva M'Cormac.

We might attempt to describe beauty, such as usually falls to the lot of womankind; but could we stretch the powers of our vocabulary to the utmost, though the imagination might furnish the idea, still we should be at a loss for words to do justice to the loveliness of Eva.

The fair and simple junction of maiden witchery so closely united, inspired the noble guest with a passion for her, almost as soon as he beheld her; and the retiring manners and artless conversation of the lovely recluse, so widely different from the fettered behaviour fearing to act out of the rules of good breeding, or the unbridled coquetry without any restraint, of the ladies with whom he was in the habit of intercourse, stamped her image on his heart, so that when it was time to bid the fair lily of the valley farewell for the night, it was done with the fixed determination of staying for the next.

His dreams were of her that night; and when the early dawn summoned his attendant to announce that the horses were ready for them to pursue their journey homeward, he answered

"No, Mac Arthy, my tired frame requires a little rest: I remain here to-day do you proceed with the horses to Kilkenny."

"When does your lordship intend to proceed?"

"Perhaps in a day or two."

"Will you surely return then, my lord?"

"I may, or may not; why are you

so anxious to know, that you thus catechise me?"

[ocr errors]

Forgive, most noble lord, the anx. iety of your faithful follower; I observed last night your attention to the beauteous Eva. She is indeed lovely, and what is more, virtuous. Start not, my lord, you had better offer violence or dishonourable proposals to a lioness than Eva; but what of all that,—she is the daughter of M'Cormac, of your vassal; and there are spirits in your house that would never brook your making her Countess of Ormond. Ponder well, my lord, ere you act; I give you warning-in three days I will be with you."

Mac Arthy then withdrew, leaving his master overwhelmed with confusion and surprise.

"So," he said, when he recovered breath to speak, "my servant threatens me, my confidential henchman warns me with an homily, because I spoke a few silly things to a girl who has spent her life in milking cows, daughter of my very vassal, as he begs leave to remind me, therefore should not be Countess of Ormond. Confound the rascal's impudence, but I'll remain as long as I think fit, merely to shew that I am my own master."

Having desired his servant on no account to leave Kilkenny without his permission, the self-willed noble gave up his whole thoughts to love and passion, and went to where Eva and her mother were engaged in domestic duties; the polite manner in which each received him, and the modest reserve of Eva raised them considerably in his estimation, and every moment served but to increase his affection.

One evening they took a short walk together in a vale at a little distance from the house; the sun dipped into the stream which flowed at their feet, and as the ripple caught his golden rays, it reminded them of their own sunshiny happiness: no envious cloud disturbed the serene sky overhead, and they sat down on the brink of the mimic cascade to enjoy that "communion sweet," which can only be felt by those who love.

"And they were young, and they were happy." "Alas!" exclaimed Eva, "would that this dream could last for ever!" "What occurs to prevent it, dearest maiden," said the Earl.

She fixed her mild blue eyes first on the handsome countenance which gazed on her, then raising them to the clear arch of heaven which was now studded

with glittering stars, passionately exclaimed, "You are as the golden sun which proudly holds his course by day, while I am as yon trembling orb twinkling in the night."

A kiss hastily imprinted on the lips of the fair speaker, aroused her attention as the Earl whispered in her ear, "Be thou no longer the trembling star, but the equal, and acknowledged companion of the golden sun."

A look full of grateful thanks was all that the joyful girl could bestow : the Earl felt its weight, and prized the silent glance far more than honied words from lips which feel not what they utter; each clasped by an arm entered the dwelling, and made the joy universal by calling on a venerable priest who dwelt with the family to prepare them for the nuptials. All seemed too full to speak; and the following day, the sun set on the Earl and Countess of Ormond setting out on their way to Kilkenny Castle, but happening to meet Mac Arthy, he gave some tidings that induced them to return. It was a late hour, the domestics had retired to rest, and the warders were drowsy on their posts when the henchman with the led horse of the Earl arrived at the castle; all arose, fearing some accident had befallen their master, and greatly were they surprised, and among the fairer portion much indignation when he detailed the captivating effect produced by the charms of Eva M'Cormac ; the tidings soon reached the ears of Lord Broghill, uncle to the Earl, a man of ambitious views, and of a character defiled by many base qualities.

"Hah!" he exclaimed as he paced the antique gallery peopled with the portraits of the former lords of Ormond, “hah! my proud kinsman, do you bow your falcon crest to the coo of an amorous dove? Yet 't is well! James Broghill arise, the quarry is marked, and I will break the creance.

[ocr errors]

Hastily calling one of the attendants who was in his interests, he dispatched him to the house of M'Cormac, with directions that nothing should disturb the Earl from his dream of indolence, and to send to him sure notice if any important event occurred; then giving loose reins to his ambitious projects, debated the surest means of taking possession of the castle and estates in his nephew's absence.

The event of the marriage was the basis of his superstructure: the tenantry, a wild tribe, came into his views of the disgrace which had been brought on the

[ocr errors]

house, and refused to acknowledge any other master, save Lord Broghill, who thereon assumed the title of Earl of Ormond. One of his first acts after obtaining possession, was to put the parents of Eva to death, and to cause it to be publicly understood that whoever gave food or protection to the late Earl or his wife, should be placed under the ban of his heaviest vengeance: a proclamation of no ordinary weight in those arbitrary times. Mac Arthy having the temerity to break this command was placed in strict imprisonment, and no one dared to imitate him.

A fugitive and an exile from his estates and titles for many years, Charles Butler, the rightful Earl of Ormond, wandered with one whom neither the fear of danger nor privation of want could tear from following his fortunes. The influence of his uncle, the brother of his mother, the usurper of his rights, was universally felt and acknowledged, and whoever was rash enough to afford the hapless pair even a temporary shelter, found at once a bitter and implacable enemy in the powerful Earl, who having deprived his nephew of his property, sought now either to banish him from the kingdom, or put an end to his life, which would leave him undisturbed master. The dangers he encountered in his wanderings, the hardships he experienced in his sometimes abrupt retreats over the mountains and through the woods, his anxious and frequent watchings, were all shared with his young and beautiful wife.

To follow him, she had left, if not wealth and grandeur, at least ease and comfort; to protect him and share his labours had she become hardy, energetic, and courageous, far above what is the usual lot of the sex. The many misfortunes, and the firm demeanour with which they bore up against the tide of misery which flowed so suddenly on them, would have procured them many friends; the cruel tyrant knew all this, hated them the more, and sought all means to procure either his banishment or death.

CHAP. II.

"A dreary wand'rer on the desert waste."

BETWEEN the rival families of the But lers of Ormond and the Fitz-Patricks of Ossory an hereditary feud had long subsisted; what the original cause of contention was it soothes me not to say, but certes the present chieftain of Ossory, though imbued with all the prejudices of

his forefathers against the Butler, was too considerate not to look with an eye of pity on the suffering lord. Brave and active when engaged in war, he could not stoop to crush a fallen foe; and now at his court the exiled Earl and his lady received that repose they had long sought, apartments were assigned them, and the hapless pair esteemed themselves fortunate in at length obtaining the protection of a roof from their perilous and comfortless wanderings.

"But all that's bright must fade."

An embassy came from the usurper of Ormond to him of Ossory, entreating the latter to deliver up the enemy of the former lord; rich presents of gold and silver accompanied the train, but the heart of Fitz-Patrick scorned the bribe, and the ambassadors returned as they came; again they arrived bearing gifts more costly, with assurances of the eternal friendship of Ormond if they succeeded, but the chief of Ossory valued not friendship, perishable as the gifts of such a man as sent them. The third time in a haughty tone they bade the lord of Ossory decide between the gold or sword of the powerful Earl of Osmond.

Butler had beheld the procession once more enter the court-yard of his friendly host, he watched in full expectation that they would be sent away as before; the day passed on, and still the consultation was undecided, for the chief of Ossory hesitated what answer he should return, as on that depended his safety, being in no condition to meet the forces of Ormond, and after a long struggle between his honour and his fears, in which the former was defeated, he consented to deliver up his guests.

The length of the negotiation worked up the mind of Butler to a fearful pitch, he turned to his wife, "There is something unusual in it," he said, "I feel a presentiment of danger."

"Dear Charles, do not be so alarmed," she replied.

"Alas," he said, "how can I feel otherwise than alarmed when I expect to be abandoned to the ruthless malice of my deadly foe."

"Say not abandoned," the lady exclaimed, "am I not with you, to cheer and comfort you-to permit rest when you are weary, do I not watch? why thus do you distress yourself? it can do us no good."

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Forgive me, dearest," cried the young nobleman. "I should indeed be senseless not to feel your kindness; but uneasy

« AnteriorContinuar »