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and no wonder, if it be true that they gained the guerdon without having encountered the dangers of war; for many a doughty knight complained that the smiles for which he had perilled himself in the battle-field were bestowed upon some idle son of peace at home. The person of a minstrel was sacred, and base and barbarian the man would have been accounted, who did not venerate him that sang the heroic and the tender lay, the magic strains of chivalry, and could shed a romantic lustre over fierce wars and faithful loves.'

We must now discharge our duties to the fair by extracting one passage, which describes the character of woman in the eyes of the knight :

In his mind woman was 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 demeanour of homage, in a grave and stately politeness, his lady-love 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 solemn 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.* "I should have loved him better dead than alive," another damsel exclaimed, on hearing that her knight had survived his honour.'

Few parts of Mr. Mills's work are more interesting than his pictures of those high-born dames, the heroines of chivalry, who mingled the fearless spirit of their lords with the gentler virtues of their sex. Among these, the stories of Queen

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Philippa, of Agnes of March, of the Countess of Mountfort, and of Marzia des Ubaldini, have peculiar attractions. En gaging, also, in an eminent degree, are the brilliant scenes of the joust and tournament, and the imposing array of the religious and military orders of knighthood. We can, however, find room for only one spirited passage from the history of the Spanish order of Calatrava.

The monastery of Santa Maria de Fetero in Navarre contained a monk named Diego Velasquez, who had spent the morning of his life in arms, but afterwards had changed the mailed frock for a monastic mantle, for in days of chivalry, when religion was the master-spring of action, such conversions were easy and natural. The gloom of a convent was calculated only to repress the martial spirit; but yet the surrounding memorials of military greatness, the armed warrior in stone, the overhanging banner and gauntlet, while they proved the frail nature of earthly happiness, showed what were the subjects wherein men wished for fame beyond the grave. The pomp, of the choir-service, the swelling note of exultation in which the victories of the Jews over the enemies of Heaven were sung, could not but excite the heart to admiration of chivalric renown, and in moments of enthusiasm many a monk cast his cowl aside, and changed his rosary for the belt of a knight. And thus it was with Velasquez. His chivalric spirit was roused by the call of his king, and he lighted a flame of military ardour among his brethren. They implored the superior of the convent to accept the royal proffer; and the King, who was at first astonished at the apparent audacity of the wish, soon recollected that the defence of the fortress of Calatrava could not be achieved by the ordinary exertions of courage, and he then granted it to the Cistertian order, and principally to its station at Santa Maria de Fetero, in Navarre. And the fortress was wisely bestowed; for not only did the bold spirits of the convents keep the Moors at bay in that quarter, but the valour of the friars caused many heroic knights of Spain to join them. To these banded monks and cavaliers the King gave the title of the Religious Fraternity of Calatrava, and Pope Alexander III. accepted their vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity. The new religious order of knighthood, like that of Saint James of Compostella, was a noble bulwark of the Christian kingdom.


Nothing could be more perfect than the simplicity of the knights of Calatrava. Their dress was formed from the coarsest woollen, and the edges were not like those of many a monk of the time, purfiled or ornamented with vair or gris, or other sorts of rich fur. Their diet, too, reproached the usual luxury of the monastery, for the fruits of the earth sustained them. They were silent in the oratory, and the refectory, one voice only reciting the prayers, or reading a legend of battle; but when the first note of the Moorish atabal was heard by the warder on the tower, the convent became a scene of universal uproar. The caprisoning of steeds, and the clashing of armour, broke the repose of the


cloister, while the humble figure of the monk was raised into a bold and expanded form of dignity and power. Through all the mighty efforts of the Christians for the recovery of their throne, the firm and dense array of the knights of Calatrava never was tardy in appearing on the field; but the kingdom, as its power and splendour increased, overshadowed the soldiers of every religious order of chivalry.'

ART. VIII. Sydney Papers; consisting of a Journal of the Earl of Leicester, and original Letters of Algernon Sydney. Edited, with Notes, &c. by R. W. Blencowe, A. M. 8vo. pp. 284. 10s. 6d. Boards. Murray. 1825.


THE THE Journal which forms the principal feature of this collection, was written by Robert, second Earl of Leicester, the nephew of Sir Philip, and the father of Algernon Sydney. Of all the diaries which we have ever read, it is the most jejune and uninteresting, considering the busy period of our history, over which it extends. Commencing in 1647, it terminates in 1661, thus embracing a series of years, every day of which teemed with events of the greatest importance to every individual, who felt any concern in the welfare of the country. The Earl of Leicester, it is painful to observe, seems to have been interested by the public events of his day, only in proportion as they were connected with his own personal views. During the contest between the parliament and Charles I., he alternately sided with that power, which seemed to him the most capable of promoting his fortunes. Lord Clarendon justly describes him as a speculative" man, though not exactly in the sense which the noble historian attaches to that epithet. It was a mistake to suppose that he was "a man of fidelity to the King;" for just at the moment that that unfortunate and misguided monarch stood most in need of his services, the Earl of Leicester kept aloof; and he managed his indifference with so much skill, that if matters went well with his royal master, he might keep in the road to his favor; if they went ill, he might, as he afterwards did, justify himself to the parliament. This is the sort of calculating character that was justly appreciated by the spirit of antiquity, which proscribed every citizen who remained neutral in times of civil commotion. It may have arisen, in some measure, as Clarendon asserts, from a certain " staggering and irresolution in Leicester's nature;" but this frailty was itself the result of his timidity, overweening pride, and love of office, prompted not by ambition, but a keen spirit of avarice.


The effects of Leicester's personal character upon his family are remarkable. Those of his relatives whom a vigorous example on his part might have led to a consistent course of action, most ingeniously contrived to carry into effect each of the contradictory resolutions, which from time to time vainly contended in his own breast for victory. His son-in-law, Lord Sunderland, followed the standard of the King; his eldest son, Lord Lisle, courted the favor of Cromwell, and obtained it; while his second son, Algernon Sydney, though he fought and negotiated for the republic, detested Cromwell quite as much as he hated the sovereign who preceded, and him who followed, the usurper. As a father, the Earl of Leicester appears in no very amiable light, either in his Journal, or in the papers which are appended to it. His house was constantly torn by domestic dissensions, and his sons and daughters, even after they left his roof, appear to have occupied themselves in making war on each


The Journal was omitted in the valuable collection of Sydney Papers made by Mr. Collins. Very possibly that gentleman, if he had been aware of its existence, would have rejected it as not worth the space it would occupy. It consists for the most part of extracts from the parliamentary proceedings, from "The Moderat Intelligencer," "The Politicus,' "The Diurnall," and other periodical publications of the day. The original matter is unimportant, if we except the entry relating to Cromwell's famous dissolution of the parliament, which is related with the addition of some minute particulars not noticed by the historians.

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6 Anno 1653. Wednesday, 20th April. The parlement sitting as usuall, and being on debate upon the bill with the amendments, which it was thought would have bin passed that day, the Lord Generall Cromwell came into the House, clad in plain black clothes, with gray worsted stockings, and sate down as he used to do in an ordinary place. After a while he rose up, putt off his hat, and spake; at the first and for a good while, he spake to the commendation of the parlement, for theyr paines and care of the publick good; but afterwards he changed his style, told them of theyr injustice, delays of justice, self-interest, and other faults; then he sayd, "Perhaps you thinke this is not parlementary language, I confesse it is not, neither are you to expect any such from me," then he putt on his hat, went out of his place, and walked up and down the stage or floore in the middest of the House, with his hat on his head, and chid them soundly, looking sometimes, and pointing particularly upon some persons, as Sir R. Whitlock, one of the Commissioners for the Greate Seale, Sir Henry Vane, to whom he gave very sharpe language,


though he named them not, but by his gestures it was well known that he meant them. After this he sayd to Corronell Harrison, (who was a member of the House,) "Call them in," then Harrison went out, and presently brought in Lieutenant-Collonell Wortley, (who commanded the Generall's own regiment of foote,) with five or six files of musqueteers, about 20 or 30, with theyr musquets, then the Generall, pointing to the Speaker in his chayre, sayd to Harrison, "Fetch him downe;" Harrison went to the Speaker, and spoke to him to come down, but the Speaker sate still, and sayd nothing. "Take him down," sayd the Generall; then Harrison went and pulled the Speaker by the gowne, and he came downe. It happened that day, that Algernon Sydney sate next to the Speaker on the right hand; the Generall sayd to Harrison, "Put him out," Harrison spake to Sydney to go out, but he sayd he would not go out, and sate still. The Generall sayd again, "Put him out," then Harrison and Wortley putt theyr hands upon Sydney's shoulders, as if they would force him to go out, and then he rose and went towards the doore. Then the Generall went to the table where the mace lay, which used to be carryed before the Speaker, and sayd, "Take away these baubles;" so the soldiers tooke away the mace, and all the House went out; and at the going out, they say, the Generall sayd to young Sir Henry Vane, calling him by his name, that he might have prevented this extraordinary course, but he was a juggler, and had not so much as common honesty. All being gon out, the doore of the House was locked, and the key, with the mace, was carryed away, as I heard, by Corronell Otley.'

The papers in the second part of the volume, of the authenticity of which, as well as of the Journal, there can be no question, consist chiefly of letters from Algernon Sydney to his father. Several of the letters have been already published in Collins's Collection, in "The familiar Letters of John, Earl of Rochester," and other works. The repetition of these in this volume is therefore most unnecessary. There are on the whole only six or seven letters, which are now printed for the first time from the original manuscripts in the possession of Mr. Lambard of Sevenoaks. These are interesting, as they throw fresh light upon the character of Algernon Sydney, which has been the subject of so much obloquy among his enemies, and of so much praise among his own party. It is impossible to read some of these epistles without observing that he was much disliked by his own family. Lord Lisle, in a letter to his father, complains bitterly of his younger brother domineering over every chamber of the house, and speaks of "his extreamest vanity and want of judgement," as well known. His father in one of his letters reproaches him with filial disrespect, and seems to take an unhappy pleasure in summing up the acts of indiscretion and folly, which his



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