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supported by the Courts of France, Burgundy, and Scotland; after his alliance had been sought by a marriage with a Princess of the latter nation; when Peers, Knights of the Garter, Privy Counsellors, and dig nitaries of the Church had espoused his cause; and after the Lord Fitzwalter and other great men had laid down their lives in the conviction of his truth, ought not the King to have shown how all had been deceived? If a counterfeit, Henry might then have convicted him out of his own mouth; or he might have produced him before Tirrel and Dighton, the supposed murderers; and surely, though no one else in the whole court and kingdom of England could so cross-examine this Flemish youth, as to detect him in a single falsehood, their appearance must have confounded him. There were enough too in Henry's court, who must well have remembered the person of the Duke of York: the famous Dr. Oliver King, then Bishop of Exeter, who was Edward's as well as Henry's secretary, was still alive, as were other prelates and barons of the realm, besides servants of Edward's household, who must often have seen both the princes, and whose evidence, if taken, would instantly have decided his character. Why, moreover, was he never produced before the Queen dowager, the Queen herself, and the other sisters of the Duke of York? Why were they never asked, Is this your son? Is this your brother? Their declarations would have admitted of no doubt. Their denial of his person would have undeceived the world, and have silenced for ever the voice of scepticism. But no: the King withheld or avoided this obvious mode of detection! He was never confronted with them; and must we not thence infer that Henry was afraid to put their natural emotions to such a trial? For, if he were the Duke of York, no lapse of time could have effaced him from their memory, nor could the injunctions of a tyrant have restrained the impulse of a mother's or a sister's feelings.

"When we review all the circumstances of this extraordinary case; the entire want of evidence that the princes were put to death; the inconsistency of the King's conduct; his avoiding every species of inquiry by which he might have proved him an impostor, if he were so, and the many shifts he had recourse to, to blind the world on the subject; when we estimate the character of the historians of those times, and re

member that the only sources of our information are the testimony of writers swayed by prejudices, or subservient to the Lancastrian interest, and the statements put forth by the King himself,-when we consider

too all the traits in Warbeck's character,his personal likeness to King Edward the Fourth, his princely manners, and his acknowledged perfection in the English

(July,

language; when we call to mind that his origin and history were never traced,-that he never failed in his part, and that neither his words nor actions were ever said to bear the semblance of imposition ;-in fact, when we fairly and deliberately weigh all the strong and leading points of his story, we must be rooted indeed to the common impressions entertained on this subject, if we hastily conclude that he was an impostor. At all events, we have shewn that he could not have been such a person as he was represented: and the more deeply any candid inquirer will search into the history and times of Richard the Third, the less credit he will attach to that common herd of writers, whose venality or prejudices have led them from the paths of uprightness and truth, and made them indiscriminately load his memory with all the foulest crimes that distinguish the dark and troubled æra in which he lived." pp. 350, 352.

A disquisition on this subject is attached to Henry's History of England. We think that the case of Perkin Warbeck being the Duke of York, is made out up to strong presumption. But what became of Edw. V.? Nobody says that he was Lambert Simnel.

(To be continued.)

2. Tales of the Crusaders. By the Author of Waverley, &c. 4 vols. Robinson & Co.:

INEXHAUSTIBLE in his resources, we have here another annual offering from a writer, whose title to our praise owes nothing to the mystery with which he seeks to envelope his name. Who shall attempt the 'wasteful and ridiculous excess' of lauding him whom the King delighteth to honour? whose fame reacheth from one end of the civilized world to the other! and whose works are destined to that inimortality which appertains to the language in which they are embodied? Let us to our office, and leave the delights of eulogy to the thousands and ten of thousands, into whose hands the volumes have fallen.

After a facetious introduction, more suo, in which some of the favourite characters of preceding works are the interlocutors, and from which we glean that the author purposes a History of the Life of Buonaparte, we enter upon the first Tale of the Crusaders, entitled "The Betrothed," a tale of the twelfth Century, during the reign of Henry II. and at a period when the violent and frequent conflicts between the Welsh and their

Norman

1825.]

Norman invaders-had yielded to a season of doubtful tranquillity. In this suspicious friendship Raymond, Berenger, and Gwenwyn of Powysland were new banded; they had partaken with little satisfaction each of the other's hospitality, and it was apparent that a slight breath was only wanting to rekindle the embers of discord in both the chiefs. That awakening influence was soon supplied. The fair daughter of the Norman had left an impression on the heart of the Welchman, which terminated in an offer of marriage. His suit is somewhat uncourteously rejected; and, after the fashion of the times, the insult is forthwith to be avenged. Gwenwyn assembles an army, and proceeds to the attack of Berenger in his Castle

of Garde Doloureuse. This Chief was neither unsuspicious nor unprepared. He conducts a sally; in compliance with some previous pledge, that he would meet his enemy in the plain, and not defend himself in his fortress; he is overpowered by numbers, and he and two-thirds of his followers are killed; the remainder take refuge in the Garde Doloureuse, which now undergoes a regular siege, but is defended by a feeble garrison. In this fortress is the high-souled daughter of Raymond Berenger; and her heroism, whether in sorrow or in danger, is very finely pourtrayed. The defence of the Castle is assigned to Wilkin Flammock, a shrewd Fleming, half soldier, half weaver, imperturbable of temper, with much diplomatic cunning, but of great integrity. The siege proceeds, and discontent gathers.

"The presence of Eveline did much to rouse the garrison from this state of discouragement; she glided from post to post, from tower to tower of the old grey fortress as a gleam of light passes over a clouded landscape, and touching its various points in succession, calls them out into beauty and effect. Sorrow and fear sometimes make sufferers eloquent. She addresses the various nations who composed her little garrison, each in appropriate language; to the English she spoke as children of the soil; to the Flemings as men who had become denizens by the rights of hospitality; to the Normans as descendants of that victorious race whose sword had made them the nobles and sovereigns of every land where its edge had been tried. To all she recommended confidence in God and our lady of the Garde Doloureuse; and she ventured to assure all GENT. MAG. July, 1825,

41

of the strong and victorious bands that were already in march for their relief.

"Will the gallant champions of the Cross (she said) think of leaving their native land, while the wail of women and of orphans is in their ears; it were to convert derogate from the high fame they have so their pious purpose into mortal sin, and to well won ;-yes, fight, but valiantly, and perhaps before the very sun that is now slowly rising shall sink in the sea, you shall see it shining on the ranks of Shrewsbury and Chester. When did the Welchmen wait to hear the clangour of their trumpets, or the rustling of their silken banners?Fight bravely,-fight freely but a while!— our castle is strong, our munition ample; your hearts are good, your arms are powerful: God is nigh to us, and our friends are not far distant;-fight then in the name of all that is good and holy,-fight for your selves, for your wives, for your children, and for your property,-and, oh! fight for an orphan maiden who hath no other defenders but what a sense of her sorrows and the remembrance of her father may raise up among you!"

An active assault is made on the castle, and as vigorous a defence succeeded; but the expected succour arrived; the Welch are routed with great slaughter, and Gwenwyn is killed. This good service is rendered by Hugo de Lacy, Constable of Chester, who being under a vow not to come under a roof until he embark for the Holy Land, commissions his nephew Damian de Lacy to report the tidings of his victory. He is favourably received, and his youthful beauty and manly bearing are not lost upon Eveline.— The body of Berenger is recovered, and interred with all due solemnities; after which the Constable, about to depart, solicits an interview with the lady in a temporary pavilion. The Constable of Chester is described as possessing no personal attractions, and of an age too advanced for lady's love; but he had previously distinguished himself at a tournament, and had laid the prize at the feet of Eveline. He was a brave warrior, but a clumsy lover.

We had forgotten to notice that in the extremity of the siege, the daughter of Berenger had, in her prayers to the Virgin, vowed that whatever favoured knight our lady of the Garde Doloureuse might employ for her rescue, should obtain from her in guer don whatever boon she might ho

nourably

nourably grant, were it that of her virgin hand at the holy altar. Attend ed now by the daughter of the Fleming, Rose Flammock, her bower woman, a shrewd clever girl, after dismissing her other attendants, she has audience of the Constable; the remembrance of her vow pressing somewhat heavily on her heart. The interview (which, would our limits permit, we would willingly extract) terminates in a proposal of marriage by the Constable, grounded on the wish of his late friend, her father, Raymond Berenger. The lady requests permis sion to consult her aunt, abbess of the Benedictine nunnery at Gloucester, a request which is granted; and, under the escort of the Constable, with a train of her own attendants, they proceed on the intended visit. On her journey she visits an old relative, the lady of Baldringham. Here an adventure of powerful interest, and of supernatural horror occurs in the chamber of the Redfinger. It is in this chamber that the descendants of the

house of Baldringham are accustomed to sleep for a night, and a revelation of their future life is made to them. Eveline would fain have excused herself from this ordeal; but the taunts of the old lady induced her compliance.

"The hour of parting at length approached, at half an hour before midnight, a period ascertained by the consumption of the huge waxen torch; the ball, which was secured to it, fell clanging into the brazen basin placed beneath, and announced to all the hour of rest. The old gluman paused in his song instantaneously, and in the middle of a stanza, and the household were all upon foot at the signal, some retiring to their apartments, others lighting torches or bearing lamps to conduct the visitors to their places of repose. Among the last was a bevy of bower women, to whom the duty was assigned of conveying the lady Eveline to her chamber for the night. Her aunt took a solemn leave of her, crossed her forehead, kissed it, and whispered in her ear'Be courageous, and be fortunate'."

Some smart verbal skirmishing then ensues between Rose and the old dame, but the former is absolutely forbidden to accompany her mistress; it is again renewed, but without success, until Eveline enters the apartment alone. Rose prepares for watching in the antiroom adjoining, and having previously secured the watchfulness of a Norman sentinel, to whom she calls from the

[July,

window, she falls asleep; from this she is awakened by a loud scream from the chamber of Eveline. She calls loudly for help, the sentinel scales the walls, and deposits the life less form of the Norman maiden into the hands of the faithful Rose; the whole adventure is very powerfully wrought up. The lady recovers, and quits somewhat abruptly the inhospitable mansion of her relative, and pursues with depressed spirits her journey to Gloucester. During their ride the Lady Eveline relates to the anxious Rose the mysteries of the night.

"I had recited the prescribed devotions for the murderer and his victim, and sitting down on the couch which was assigned me, had laid aside such of my clothes as might impede my rest. I had surmounted in short the first shock which I experienced on committing myself to this mysterious chamber, and I hoped to pass the night in slumber as sound as my thoughts were innocent. I cannot judge how long I had slept when my bosom was oppressed by an unusual weight, which seemed at once to stifle my voice, stop the beating of my heart, and prevent me from drawing my breath; and when I looked up to discover the cause of this horrible suffocation, the form of the murdered British matron stood over my couch, tallér than life, shadowy, and with a countenance where traits of dignity and beauty were mingled with a fierce expression of vengeful exultation. She held over me the hand which bore the bloody marks of her husband's cruelty, and seemed as if she signed the cross, devoting me to destruction, while words, with an unearthly tone she uttered these

Widowed wife, and married maid, Betroth'd, betrayer, and betray'd. The phantom stooped over me as she spoke, and lowered her gory fingers as if to touch my face, when terror giving me the power, of which it had deprived me, I screamed aloud."

The lady Eveline remained four, months with her aunt the abbess, and grows more and more reconciled to the Constable's proposal. The Constable endeavours to obtain a remission of his vow of a journey to the Holy Land. The day of the fianciailles, or espousals, drew near. The betrothing is concluded, when Damian de Lacy, whose long illness we are to attribute to his love for the bride, appears, and falling from weakness and exhaustion, the bandages that covered his arm after bleeding are displaced, and some

portion