his own veins had, in every drop, the feverish thrill of anxiety and dreadful expectation. No words can tell the state of that miserable man's mind during the space of two hours, which elapsed while he remained in that cottage. Remorse and fear had possession of him altogether-ay, fear; for although we have acknowledged that perhaps the only good quality he possessed was courage, yet as resolution is a very different thing from bravery, so were the terrors that possessed his mind at that moment of a very distinct character from those which seize the trembling coward on the battle-field. There was the dread of detection, shame, exposure, the hissing scorn of the whole world, everlasting infamy as well as punishment. Death was the least part, indeed, of what he feared; and could he have been sure that means would be afforded him to terminate his own existence in case of failure, the chance of such a result would have lost half its terror. But there was remorse besides—remorse which he had stifled, till it was too late. He saw his kinsman's white hair; he saw his countenance. He endeavoured in vain to call it up before his eyes, with some of those frowns or haughty looks upon it, which his own vices and follies had very often produced. There was nothing there now but the smile of kindness, but the look of generous satisfaction with which from time to time the old Earl had bestowed upon him some favour or afforded him some assistance. Memory would not perform the task he wished to put upon it. She gave him up the anguish of conscience, without even awakening the bad passions of the past to palliate the deeds of the present. He leaned on the dismantled window frame with his heart scorched and seared, without a tear to moisten his burning lid, without one place on which the mind could rest in peace. The hell of the wicked always begins upon earth; and the foul fiend had already the spirit in his grasp, and revelled in the luxury of torture. At length there came a distant sound; and, starting up, he run forth to look out. His ears no longer deceived him, but the noise increased each moment: it was horses' feet coming rapidly along the road. He gazed earnestly towards Lindwell; but instead of those whom he expected to see, he beheld a large party of cavalry riding by at full speed; and as they passed on before him, galloping away towards Nottingham, the towering form of Prince Edward, rising by the full head above any of his train, caught the eye of the watcher, and explained their appearance there. The rapid tramp died away, and all was silent again. a duller sound; Once more he expected, four Some twenty minutes more elapsed, and then there was but still it was like the footfalls of horses coming quick. gazed forth; and now he beheld, much nearer than he mounted men approaching the cottage, but avoiding the hard road, and riding over the turf of the common. One of them seemed to be supporting another by the arm, who bent somewhat feebly towards his horse's head, and appeared ready to fall. In a minute they came round: and Ellerby, springing to the ground, while the man they had called Parson held the rein of Dighton's horse, aided the latter to dismount, and led him into the cottage. "The Last of the Barons" is certainly the most purely historical romance that Sir E. Bulwer has yet given to the world; and he seems to intimate that it may be the last composition of the sort that will come from his pen. If, however, we may express an opinion of a work that we have had but little time to examine, we should pronounce it equal to any one he has ever written, and to be deserving of taking rank with the best of the fictions belonging to the historical class. The hero of this tale was the mighty Earl of Warwick, of whom Hume has thus written:-"He was the greatest, as well as the last of those mighty barons who formerly overawed the Crown." What a stormy period and stalwart knight,—what a personal history of ambition, of feats, of achievement and of memorable destiny for genius to grapple with, together with all the startling events, contrasted features and fortunes upon which he impressed himself, or from which he took his impulses! Nor is the stirring interest of the tale inadequate even when tried by the exigencies of the theme and the extreme alternations and contrasts of the epoch. This is a noble creation. It presents so much splendid description, so much eloquent writing, so many inventions, and the dramatic situations are so numerous, that half-a-dozen of really good tales might be set up out of its abundance and strength. There are, it is true, exaggerations and overstrainings in the composition, and not a few instances of the mannerisms of the author, especially in thrusting himself forward, or rather sending of his threadbare sentimentalisms and philosophizings quite unnecessarily, and therefore injuriously to the interests and demands of the romance. But then such is the essential vitality of the narrative, such the completeness and confidence of grasp on the part of the inventor, and so thorough the imbuement of passions as well as nice the delineations of the gentler emotions of nature, that the story grows and deepens as it proceeds with an accellerating speed and energy. The romance opens with that period when the " mighty Warwick” has reached the climax of his power, and Edward appears securely seated on his throne. But the great interest of the story commences with the first difference between the earl and the king, all the most celebrated personages of the age being made to group round the principal characters, and carrying us on to the field on which the last of the barons falls. It has long been a matter for doubt, whether Warwick took Edward IV. as a prisoner to his Castle of Middleham, or whether he went voluntarily. Where such uncertainty exists, the romanci̇st conceives he may intrude his imaginings of what actually took place; and this is the passage and scene which we copy out. The King having been conducted by Warwick's countess to a throne-chair, the hall gradually filling with lords and knights who commanded in the Earl's train, bore himself in the most princely manner. "Still seated, he raised his left hand to command silence; with his right he replaced his plumed cap upon his brow." The narrative proceeds: ! "Lords and gentlemen," he said, arrogating to himself at once that gorgeous following, "we have craved leave of our host to address to you some words-words which it pleases a king to utter, and which may not be harsh to the ears of a loyal subject. Nor will we at this great current of unsteady fortune make excuse, noble ladies, to you that we speak of war to knighthood, which is ever the sworn defender of the daughter and the wife-the daughters and wife of our cousin Warwick have too much of hero blood in their blue veins to grow pale at the sight of heroes. Comrades in arms. thus far towards the foe upon the frontiers we have marched without a sword drawn or an arrow launched from an archer's bow. We believe that a blessing settles on the head of a true king; and that the trumpet of a good angel goes before his path, announcing the victory that awaits him. Here, in the hall of the Earl of Warwick, our Captain-General, we thank you for your cheerful countenance and your loyal service; and here as befits a king, we promise to you those honours a king alone worthily can bestow." He paused, and his keen eye glanced from chief to chief as he resumed: "We are informed that certain misguided and traitor lords have joined the Rose of Lancaster. Whoever so doth is attainted, life and line evermore. His land and dignities are forfeited to enrich and to enoble the men who strike for Heaven grant I may have foes enow to reward all my friends. To every baron who owns Edward the Fourth king (ay, and not king in name, -king in banquet and in bower; but leader and captain in the war) I trust to give a new barony, to every knight a new knight's fee, to every yeoman a hyde of land, to every soldier a year's pay. What more I can do, let it be free for any one to suggest; for my domains of York are broad, and my heart is larger still!" me. A murmur of applause and reverence went round. Vowed as those warriors were to the earl, they felt that a MONARCH was amongst them. "What say you, then? We are ripe for glory. Three days will we halt at Middleham, guest to our noble subject.' "Three days, sire !" repeated Warwick in a tone of surprise. "Yes; and this, fair cousin, and ye, lords and gentlemen, is my reason for the delay. I have despatched Sir William Lord de Hastings to the Duke of Gloucester, with command to join us here-[the archbishop started, but instantly resumed his earnest placid aspect]-to the Lord Montague, Earl of Northumberland, to muster all the vassals of our shire of York. As three streams that dash into the ocean shall our triple army meet and rush to the war. Not even, gentlemen, not even to the great earl of Warwick, will Edward the Fourth be so beholden for roiaulme and renown, as to march but a companion to the conquest. If ye were raised in Warwick's name, not mine, why be it so; I envy him such friends. But I will have an army of my own, to show mine English soldiery how a Plantaganet battles for his crown. Gentlemen, ye are dismissed to your repose. In three days we march; and if any of you know in these fair realms the man, be he of York or Lancaster, more fit to command brave subjects than he who now addresses you, I say to that man turn rein, and leave us. Let tyrants and cowards enforce reluctant service; my crown was won by the hearts of my people' Girded by those hearts let me reign, or, mourned by them, let me fall. So God and St. George favour me as I speak the truth. And as the king ceased he uncovered his head, and kissed the cross of his sword. A thrill went through the audience. Many were there disaffected to his person, and whom Warwick's influence alone could have roused to arms; but at the close of an address, spirited and royal in itself, and borrowing thousand-fold effect by the voice and mien of the speaker, no feeling but that of enthusiastic royalty, of almost tearful admiration, was left in those steel-clad breasts. As the king lifted on high the cross of his sword, every blade leapt from its scabbard and glittered in the air; and the dusty banners in the hall waved, as to a mighty blast, when, amidst the rattle of armour, burst forth the univesal cry-"Long live Edward the Fourth! long live the king!" The sweet countess, ever amidst the excitement, kept her eyes anxiously fixed on Warwick, whose countenance, however, shaded by the black plumes of his casque, though the visor was raised, revealed nothing of his mind. Her daughters were more powerfully affected; for Isabel's intellect was not so blinded by ambition but that the kingliness of Edward forced itself upon her mind with a might and solemn weight which crushed for a moment her aspiring hopes. Was this the man unfit to reign-this the man voluntarily to resign a crown—this the man whom George of Clarence, without fratricide could succeed? No! there spoke the soul of the First and of the Third Edward; there shook the mane, and there glowed the eye of the indomitable lion of the august Plantagenets. And the same conviction, rousing softer and holier sorrow, sat on the heart of Anne. She saw, as for the first time clearly before her, the awful foe with whom her ill-omened and beloved prince had to struggle for his throne. In contrast beside that form in the prime of manly youth-a giant in its strength, a God in its beautyrose the delicate shape of the melancholy boy who, afar in exile, coupled in his dreams the sceptre and the bride. By one of those mysteries magnetism seeks to explain, in the strong intensity of her emotions, in the tremor of her. shaken nerves, fear seemed to grow prophetic. A stream as of blood rose up from the dizzy floors; the image of her young prince, bound and friendless, stood before the throne of that warrior-king. In the waving glitter of the countless swords raised on high, she saw the murderous blade against the boy-heir of Lancaster descend-descend! Her passion, her terror, at the spectre which fancy thus evoked, seized and overcame her; and ere the last hurrah rent its hollow echo to the raftered roof, she sank from her chair to. the ground, hueless and insensible as the dead. The king had not without design permitted the unwonted presence of the women in this warlike audience, partly because he was not unaware of the ambitious spirit of Isabel, partly because he counted on the affection shown to his boyhood by the countess, who was said to have singular influence over her lord; but principally because, in such a presence, he trusted to avoid all discussion and all questioning, and to leave the effect of his eloquence, in which he excelled all his contemporaries, Gloucester alone excepted, single and uinmpaired; and, therefore, as he rose, and returned with a majestic bend the acclamation of the warriors, his eye now turned VOL. I. (1843) No. III. L L towards the chairs where the ladies sat, and he was the first to perceive the swoon of the fair Anne. With the tender grace that always characterised his service to women, he descended promptly from his throne, and raised the lifeless form in his stalwart arms; and Anne as he bent over her, looked so strangely lovely in her marble whiteness, that even in that hour a sudden thrill shot through a heart always susceptible to beauty, as the harp string to the breeze. "It is but the heat, lady," said he to the alarmed countess," and let me hope that interest which my fair kinswoman may take in the fortunes of Warwick and of York, hitherto linked together "May they ever be so!" said Warwick; who, on seeing his daughter's state, had advanced hastily to the dais, and, moved by the king's words, his late speech, the evils that surrounded his throne, the gentleness shown to the beloved Anne, forgetting resentment and ceremony alike, he held out his mailed hand. The king, as he resigned Anne to her mother's arms, grasped with soldierly frankness, and with ready wit of the cold intellect which reigned beneath the warm manner, the hand thus extended, and holding still that iron gauntlet in his own ungloved and jewelled fingers, he advanced to the verge of the dais, to which, in the confusion occasioned by Anne's swoon, the principal officers had crowded, and cried aloud :— "Behold Warwick and Edward, thus hand in hand, as they stood when the clarions sounded the charge at Tonton; and that link, what swords forged on mortal's anvil can rend or sever? In an instant every knee there knelt; and Edward exultingly beheld that what before had been allegiance to the earl was now only homage to the king. ART. XV.. NOTICE. Memoirs of the Life of the Rev. John Williams. By A painstaking and minute biography of the "Martyr of Erromanga," whose "On reaching the head of the bay, we saw several natives standing at a distance we made signs to them to come towards us, but they made signs for us to go away. We threw them some beads on shore; which they |