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nay!" said the other, "you have been married, I see; but you are yet young and handsome-your husband is probably away with the rebels, and you must feel lonely." He followed her to the end of the room, and laid hold of her hand-" You are the image of a girl that I once loved-for her sake, at least, I must kiss you." She turned from him; he was proceeding to violence, and she screamed. Henry was awakened by the cry-he sprung from the bed-seized a knife that lay upon the table, and rushed down from the room: he beheld his Emily in the grasp of a stranger-he paused not for a moment, but at once plunged the weapon into the bosom of the offender: the blood gushed out around him the stranger staggered and fell back upon a sofa that stood in a corner of the room: he spoke not, but leant still backward, and turned up his face to the light. Henry looked upon him for a moment-he started-and the bloody knife fell from his hand

Holy Powers!" said he, "is this my brother?-is this Edward that I have murdered? Oh, Emily! Emily!". he looked around, but she had fainted off.

"My name," said the dying man, "is Fortescue; bear me, for God's sake, into the air, for the smoke here

is horrible."-Good Heavens !" cried Henry, "what am I to do? the house is all in flames." He rushed towards the door-it was double-locked, and the key had been flung aside; this was probably from mere chance. Henry stood for a moment in absolute distraction: the place around him was thick with smoke the rafters were crackling over his head-his brother was bleeding to death-his Emily was, to all appearance, dead; his children were screaming around her; and he saw no hope of relief. He turned again to the door-it was immovable he seized a piece of iron that chance threw in his way-he applied it to the lock, and, with an effort that appeared almost miraculous, forced back the bolt. The door flew open; he was nearly suffocated; he stood to breathe upon the threshold-he turned round

and at that moment the burning roof fell in! All was lost! his brother

his wife-and his little ones, were but a heap of ashes! He fled from the spot: he met an old neighbour on the road near Ferns-told him of his ruin-and from that hour was never again heard of.'

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THE HISTORY OF CHIVALRY, OR KNIGHTHOOD AND ITS TIMES. * THE feeling of interest for all subjects relating to chivalry, which Warton and Percy were the first to awaken in the English public, has been excited to perhaps the highest possible degree by the works of Sir Walter Scott, in poetry as well as in prose. That chivalry which is the brightest and the best feature in the history of the middle ages, and which was the parent and source of all those high exploits and heroic courtesies that place those times in competition with the fairest pages of ancient history, has hitherto had no historian. Memorials relating to it are plentifully scattered throughout certain manuscripts and ancient books, known only to the book-worms, and their human brethren, the antiquaries; but never until the publication of Mr.

Mills' excellent history has the subject been placed before the public in that succinct form which is necessary to its being relished by them. The Memoires by Froissart, which, as has been truly said, more persons talk of than read, contain some of the most valuable particulars respecting those bright days of chivalry in which he lived; but, although Colonel Johnes's translation has made Froissart, accessable to all English readers, the bulk of the work forbids their entering upon it. Similar objections apply to almost every other source of inforination; and the good reading public of Great Britain have been obliged to go blundering on through such of the Scottish novels as are chivalric, guessing at most of the allusions, and of course mistaking

* The History of Chivalry, or Knighthood and its Times. By Charles Mills, Esq.

Longman. 1825.

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VOL. I.-No. 9.

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nearly all of them. In the work before us Mr. Mills has obviated all these difficulties, and in two volumes of moderate dimensions, written in an easy and agreeable manner, he has comprised all that is most worthy of being known respecting chivalry in Europe. He has had the good fortune to produce a work which, for authenticity, diligence of research, and critical skill, deserves a place in the book-cases of the most profound antiquaries; while it is so light and playful that it will also be in great request at the circulating libraries. It would be impossible for us, within the limits by which we are necessarily circumscribed, to give a satisfactory analysis of a work so comprehensive as that before us. The author has adopted the judicious plan of tracing the history of chivalry from its earliest origin in the northern nations of Europe. He has detailed, in a very interesting manner, all the particulars of a knight's education, the services he had to perforin before he was thought fit to assume the character of a complete knight, his arms, and the exercises in which he usually employed his prowess. The tournaments and martial sports of the middle ages are not forgotten, the different orders of knighthood are incidentally explained; and that most important subject, the influence of the fair sex on the conduct of the knights, is amply discussed. Having thus disposed of the general points of his work, he treats of the state of chivalry, from its origin to the reign of James I. when it slept for ever. The progress of chivalry in France, Spain, Germany, and Italy, is traced with learning and taste, and the work is concluded by an eloquent chapter on the merits and effects of chivalry.

It will be more just, after having thus explained this subject, rather than described the work, to give some extracts from the history of chivalry, which may afford our readers a specimen of the manner in which the task has been executed. Among the heroes whom Mr. Mills particularly mentions in the history of English chivalry (and which we select as the more familiar and interesting), Sir Walter Manny occupies a foremost place :

In the suite of Philippa, daughter of the Count of Hainault, when in the year 1327 she came to England to be married to Edward III., was a gentleman of baronial rank, named Walter of Manny; and it was not thought that he lost any quality of his birth by serving at her table as her carver. He had been educated as a cavalier, and his military accomplishments were soon noticed by Edward. He was knighted, and the ceremony was splendid, the dresses being selected from the royal wardrobe. When the chance of a war with France was freely talked of in London, and every man's mind was filled with hopes of honour, Sir Walter vowed before daines and lords of the court, that he would be the first knight to enter the enemy's territory, and win either town or then went to Flanders, and on the defiances being declared between the French and English nations, he got together about forty spears, and, by riding through Brabant night and day, he soon reached Hainault. Mortaigne was, he heard, in the realm of France; and passing with the utmost speed through the wood of Blaton, he arrived at the wished-for town before the sun arose, and by good chance he found the wicket of the gate open. Leaving a few of his company to keep the

castle, and do some deeds of arms.

He

entrance, he went into the high street the castle. with his pennon before him, and reached watch, who blew his horn, and shouted He was then espied by the "Treason, treason!" It would have been the extreme of rashness for such a little troop as that of Sir Walter to have attempted to storm the castle. They therefore contented themselves with setting fire to some houses, and then quitted the town; and thus that noble and gentle knight Sir Walter Manny performed the

vow which he had made to the dames and lords of England.'

The devotion to the fair sex, which formed so conspicuous a feature in every knight's character, is forcibly described by the author:

*

'A soldier of chivalry would go to battle, proud of the title, pursuivant of love, and in the contests of chivalric skill, which, like the battles of Homer's heroes, gave brilliancy and splendour to war, a knight challenged another to joust with a lance for love of the ladies; and he commended tection and assistance. In his mind woman himself to the mistress of his heart for prowas a being of mystic power; in the forests of Germany her voice had been listened to like that of the spirit of the woods, melodious, solemn, and oracular; and when chivalry was formed into a system,

the same idea of something supernaturally powerful in her character threw a shadowy and serious interest over softer feelings, and she was revered as well as loved. While this devotedness of soul to woman's charms appeared in his general intercourse with the sex, in a demeanor of homage, in a grave and stately politeness, his ladylove he regarded with religious constancy. Fickleness would have been a species of impiety, for she was not a toy that he played with, but a divinity whom he worshipped. This adoration of her sustained him through all the perils that lay before his reaching his heart's desire; and loyalty (a word that has lost its pristine and noble meaning) was the choicest quality in the character of the preux chevalier.

'It was supported, too, by the state of the world he lived in. He fought the battles of his country and his church, and he travelled to foreign lands as a pilgrim, or a crusader, for such were the calls of his chivalry. To be the first in the charge and the last in the retreat was the counsel which one knight gave to another, on being asked the surest means of winning a lady fair. Love was the crowning grace, the guerdon of his toils, and its gentle influence aided him in discharging the duties of his gallant and solen profession. The Lady Isabella, daughter of the Earl of Jullyers, loved the Lord Eustace Damberticourt for the great nobleness of arms that she had heard reported of him; and her messengers often carried to him letters of love, whereby her noble paramour was the more hardy in his deeds of arms.'

Sir Walter was not behind the other heroes of his age in this feeling :

Afterwards, (in the year 1342,) being high in favour with Edward, he was sent into Britany, with a proud display of knights and archers, to aid the Countess of Mountfort, at that time besieged in her castle by the French. He was not long before he made a sally on the enemy, and with such effect, that he destroyed all their great engines of assault. The French knights, not anticipating so bold a measure, lay at some distance from their machines; but they soon advanced in formidable numbers. The English and Bretons retreated, however, fairly and easily, though the French pursued them with infuriate violence. It would not have been knightly for Sir Walter to have left the field without having right valiantly acquitted himself: and he exclaimed, Let me never be beloved by my lady, unless I have a course with one of these followers." He then set his spear in its rest, and so did many of his companions. They ran at the first comers. Then legs were seen

turned upwards, knights were taken and rescued, and inany rare deeds of arms were done by both parties. Afterwards the English slowly retired to the castle and the French to their tents.'

There was in this as in the following exploit a degree of rashness which nothing but his success could excuse. If a disastrous result had ensued, the censures on his headstrong valour (still unquestionably valour) would have been as loud as the praises which he received:

'No circumstance in this war was of more importance than the relief of the castle of Auberoche, then beleaguered by the French. The Earl of Derby had with him only three hundred spears, and six hundred archers, the rest of his force being dispersed over the country. The French could count about ten or twelve thousand; but the English, undismayed by numbers, thought it was a great disgrace to abandon their friends in Auberoche. The Earl of Derby and his knights were then in a wood, two little leagues from Auberoche; and while waiting for the Earl of Pembroke, they left their horses to pasture.

While they were loitering in the fields, in this state of restlessness, Sir Walter Manny said to his companions, "Let us leap on our horses, and wend our way under the covert of this wood till we arrive at the side which joins the Frenchmen's host; and then let us put our spurs into our horses, and cry our cries. Our enemy will then be at supper, and, not expecting us, you shall see them so discomfited, that they shall not be able to preserve any array." A scheme so adventurous was readily embraced: every man mounted his horse; and the troop coasted the wood till they came near the French, who were going to supper, and some, indeed, were already seated at the tables. The scene of festivity was broken up when the English displayed their banners and pennons, and dashed their spurs into their horses, and raising the cry, "A Derby, a Derby!" rushed among them, overthrowing tents and pavilions. When the French recovered from their astonishment, they mounted their steeds, and rode into the field in military array; but there they found the English archers ready to receive them, and those bold yeomen shot so fiercely that they slew many men and horses. On the other side of the castle there was a noble display of French chivalry; and the Englishmen, having overcome those who were near the tents, dashed boldly among them. Many noble deeds of arms were done, knights were

taken and rescued, and the English cause triumphed for the knights of the castle had armed themselves, and now issued forth, and rushed into the thickest of the press. Then the Englishmen entered into "Auberoche; and the Earl of Derby gave a supper to the earls and viscounts who were prisoners, and to many of the knights and squires, lauding God, at the same time, that a thousand of his own nation had overcome many thousands of their enemies, and had rescued the town of Auberoche, and saved their companions that were within, who, in all likelihood, would have been taken within two days.'

In peace or in war Sir Walter Manny was always distinguished for his noble and manly character. Courteous to his foes, charitable to the poor, pious and gentle, he closed a life of honour at an advanced age, and bore with him to the grave the esteem and regret of all his cotemporaries.

Sir John Chandos cuts also a conspicuous figure in the same part of the work. He had been treated uncivilly by the Earl of Pembroke, also a gallant knight, but who was induced

to refuse his aid when Sir John had need of it. Very soon afterwards the earl, being in great stress, was obliged to send to Sir John for succour. The manner in which this request was first refused, and afterwards granted, is so characteristic of the persons and the times to which it relates, that we give it entire :

The Frenchmen, thinking it a more easy chevisance to discomfit him than Sir John Chandos, assembled seven hundred soldiers from all the garrisons in the country, and Sir Louis of Sancerre took the command. The Earl of Pembroke heard nothing of the enemy, and, not having the vigilance of Sir John Chandos, he took no pains to inquire. The English were one day reposing in a village called Puirenon, in the territory of Poictou, when suddenly the Frenchmen came into the town, their spears in their rests, crying their cry, "Our Lady of Sancerre, for the Marshal of France." The English were dressing their horses, and preparing their suppers, when they were thus unexpectedly assailed. Several were killed, all the plunder was retaken, many prisoners were made, and the Earl of Pembroke and some of his knights and archers saved themselves in a preceptory of the Templars. The Frenchmen assaulted it gallantly, and it was as gallantly defended, till night put

an end to the assault.

'The English were so severely straitened for provisions, that they knew they must speedily surrender, unless Chandos came to their succour. A squire, who professed to know the country, offered to go to Sir John, and he accordingly left the fortress when the French had retired to rest. But he soon lost his road, and did not recover it till morning.

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At day-break the French renewed their assaults, and mounted the walls with pavesses to defend their heads from the missiles of the English. The Earl of Pembroke and his little band fought so bravely, from morning until noon, that the French the uncavalierlike mode of wursting their were obliged to desist, and to resort to gallant foes by sending to the neighbour. ing villages for pikes and mattocks, that they might undermine and break down the wall.

"Then the Earl of Pembroke called a

squire to him, and said, "Friend, take my courser, and issue out at the back postern, and ride straight to Poictiers, and show Sir John Chandos the state and danger we are in; and recommend me to him by this his finger: "deliver it to him, for Sir John token," added the Earl, taking a ring from knows it well."

The squire took the ring, and, immediately mounting his courser, fled through the postern, thinking he should achieve great honour if he could reach Sir John Chandos.

"The first squire, having lost so much time in the confusion of the night, did not arrive at Poictiers till nine in the morning.

He found Sir John at mass; and, in consequence of the importance of his message, he disturbed his devotions.

'Chandos's feelings had been severely offended by the pride and presumption of the Earl of Pembroke, and he was in no great haste to relieve him. He heard the mass out. The tables were then arranged for the noon repast.

The servants, among whom the message of the squire had been bruited, inquired of Sir John if he would go to dinner. He replied, "Yes; if it were ready."

'He went into the hall, and knights and squires brought him water. While he was washing, the second squire from the Earl of Pembroke, pale, weary, and travelsoiled, entered the hall, and knelt before him, and took the ring out of his purse, and said, "Right dear Sir, the Earl of Pembroke recommends himself to you by this token, and heartily desires your assistance in relieving him from his present danger at Puirenon."

'Chandos took the ring; but instead of calling his friends to arm, he coldly observed, that it would be difficult to assist

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the earl if the affair were such as the squire had represented it. "Let us go to dinner," said he; and accordingly the knights sat down.

The first course was eaten in silence, for Chandos was thoughtful, and the minds of his friends were not idle.

"In the middle of the second course, when the generous wine of France had roused his better nature, he started from a reverie, and with a smile of pride and generousness exclaimed, "Sirs, the Earl of Pembroke is a noble man, and of great lineage: he is sun of my natural lord the King of England, for he hath married his daughter, and in every thing he is companion to the Earl of Cambridge. He hath required me to come to him, and I ought to consent to his desire."

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Then thrusting the table from him, and rising to the full height of his fine martial figure, he cried, "Gallant knights, I will ride to Puirenon."

'This noble and generous resolve found an echo in the heart of every one that was present. The trumpets sounded, the knights hastily donned their armour, and saddled the first horses they could meet with; and in a few moments the courtyard glittered with more than two hundred spears. They rode apace towards Puirenon; but news of their approach reached the vigilant French in sufficient time for them to abandon the siege, and effect their retreat with their prisoners and booty.'

We should gladly follow Mr. Mills in his progress, and give the portraits he draws of other not less valiant knights than those whom we have introduced to our readers. The noble Bertrand du Guesclin, the celebrated Ruz Diaz, the Cid, Bayard, and other knights of renown, find a place in his interesting memoirs. All these, how ever, we are compelled to leave; but we cannot do so without a strong recommendation to our readers to secure to themselves the pleasure they must derive from the perusal of a book which is at once as useful as a history and as amusing as a romance. With one more extract on the origin of blue stockings, we close our notice of the History of Chivalry.'

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Many of the orders whose histories fill the pages of works on knighthood have no claims to their places; for they were only associations of cavaliers without royal or pontifical authority, and wearing no badge or cross, except in the imagination of the writer. Only one of these fraternities merits mention here. The Society de la Calza (of the Stocking) was formed at Venice in the year 1400, to the honour of the inauguration of the Doge, Michele Steno. The employments of the members were conversation and festivity; and so splendid were the entertainments of music and dancing, that the gay spirits of other parts of Italy anxiously solicited the ho nour of seats in the society. All their statutes regarded only the ceremonies of the ball or the theatre; and the members being resolved on their rigorous performance, took an oath in a church to that tendency. They had banners and a seal like an authorized order of knighthood. Their dress was as splendid and elegant as Venetian luxury and taste could fashion it; and, consistently with the singular custom of the Italians of marking academies and other intellectual associations by some external signs of folly, the members, when they met in literary discussion, were distinguished by the colours of their stockings. The colours were sometimes fantastically blended, and at other times one colour, particularly the blue, prevailed. The Society de la Calza lasted till' the year 1590, when the foppery of Italian literature took some other symbol. The rejected title then crossed the Alps, and found a congenial soil in the flippancy and literary triflings of Parisian society, and particularly branded female pedantry as the strongest feature in the character of France to England, and for a while markFrench pretension. It diverged from ed the vanity of the small advances in literature of our female coteries. But the propriety of its application is now gradually ceasing; for we see in every circle that attainments in literature an be accomplished with no loss of womanly modesty. It is in this country, above all others, that Knowledge asserts her right of general dominion, or contends that, if she be the sustaining energy of one sex, she forms the lighter charm, the graceful dra pery, of the other.'

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