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KENILWORTH:*

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The subject of this romance is, perhaps, the most arduous of any, which its author has yet attempted. There is no period in the history of the world, to which the mind of an Englishman reverts with greater reverence and pride, than that of Elizabeththe age, when all that can dignify or embellish life received a mighty impulse; when philosophic, wisdom escaped from its dim recesses, and was shed abroad among the people; when the useful was tinged with the romantic, and poetry became at once the sweetest and the most manly. To realize this æra, to bring before our eyes, not only its manners, but its living genius; to place us amidst its various characters, from the company at a village ale-house, to its renowned queen-is an aim, from which an author of the highest reputation might shrink. In this, however, the great novelist has, in a considerable degree, succeeded. He has set before us, in all the vividness of present life, the customs, the formalities, and the pleasures of Elizabeth's court; made us partakers in the jealousies and contests of its most illustrious statesmen, and enabled us to feel every gesture, attitude, and tone, of the celebrated Queen herself, as though we had been yesterday in her presence. But he has not introduced us into the diviner assembly of the time, into the haunts of its philosophers and poets. He has, indeed, made Raleigh one of his persons, and told the incident of his throwing down his rich cloak before the Queen, to tread on, with singular vivacity; but he represents him only in the grace and bravery of his youth. Spenser and Shakspeare are just brought in, as part of a crowd, to receive a few condescending words from the Earl of Leicester, at the moment of his triumph over his rival. This is, we think, using unauthorized freedom with those illustrious names. True it is, that when the favourite of Elizabeth nods on the dramatic poet, our novelist refers to the different aspects, in which their contemporaries and posterity regard them; but the name of Shakspeare is too sacred" to point a moral or adorn a tale," even though the tale be by the author

af Waverley. What a fine triumph

would it have been for the novelist; what an eternal elevation of his art, had he called up with power the mightiest spirit of the time, imagined his choicest hours, and enabled us to listen delighted, among his convivialities, to his spontaneous poetry and wisdom!

Kenilworth opens with a very spirited scene, at "the Bonny Black Bear," an inn a few miles from Oxford. While the guests are taking their evening recreation, a stranger, who is soon dis

* Kenilworth; a Romance. By the Author of "Waverley," "Ivanhoe," &c. In three vols. 8vo. Edinburgh and London, 1821.

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covered to be the graceless nephew of the landlord, joins their revels. To his inquiries after one of his old acquaintances, Anthony Foster, a superstitious villain, who had brought light to kindle the pile round Latimer and Ridley, and had changed his religion, according to the exigences of the time, he receives answer, that the bigot lives at Cumnor-place, an old mansion in the neighbourhood, and that some beautiful girl is there in his custody. This narrative incites Michael Lambourne, the reckless adventurer, to intrude on the solitude of Foster, in the hope of profiting by a share of the mystery. Tressilian, a gentle and unobtrusive guest of the landlor, offers to join in the expedition, and they accordingly set out together, in the morning, for Cumnor-place. An admirable description of the park, and entrance to the ruined mansion, follows, which, for noble picturesque effect, is equal to any thing in the best works of the author. At the house, the adventurers obtain an interview with its fierce and ungainly master; and Tressilian discovers, that the embowered fair-one is the daughter of a Cornish gentleman, once called Amy Robsart, to whom he had given his heart in vain, and who had fled from her father's mansion. This lady proves to be the concealed bride of the Earl of Leicester, who, madly enamoured of her beauty, and fearing the jealous temper of the Queen, had fitted up apartments in the old mansion, with great sumptuousness, for her residence, until a favourable opportunity should occur for acknowledging her as his wife. There is something exceedingly delicious in the idea of these hidden pomps, and of their young, beautiful, and artless mistress. Perhaps at this point, or the stolen visit of Leicester which follows, the interest of the romance is at its height, and the reader is prepared to expect images of more pure and exquisite beauty, heightening the effect of the bustling scenes, than the tale actually discloses. Leicester, compelled to attend on the Queen, repairs to London, and there is immersed in all the perils of an intrigue, to supplant the Earl of Sussex in Elizabeth's favour. Thither Tressilian follows, in the belief that Amy has been seduced by Varney, an attendant on the Earl, to implore the Queen's interference, for the restoration of the lady to her father. The whole scene of the court, where the two great rivals, Sussex and Leicester, meet, is depicted in the most masterly style. Not only are all the varieties of its external appearance, in exactest costume, bright and breathing before us; but all the turns of hope, terror, ambition, and love, in the chief persons, are pourtrayed in their most delicate gradations. Nothing can be more happily conceived, than the demeanour of Elizabeth throughout this scene. Her masculine impetuosity, softened by female love, and the partial suppression of both these feelings by a sense of personal majesty, are represented so as to form a striking historical pic

ture. Varney, the devoted pander to his master's will, on being asked, whether he is married to Amy? answers, boldly, " Yes ;" and Leicester, though mortified and indignant, dares not avow the truth. The interview closes on Leicester's triumph; but the Queen insists on the production of Amy at Kenilworth, where she prepares to visit her favourite. To prevent the discovery which obedience to this command would render inevitable, Varney engages an astrologer and alchemist to medicate the food of the sad prisoner, so as to bring on languor and sickness, which may serve as an excuse for her absence. But this plan defeats its own object; for the lady, indignant at the request of her husband, that she should sanction his minion's falsehood, and believing that her keepers design to poison her, flies from Cumnor-place, and, after a variety of adventures, rather tediously. related, arrives, in disguise, at the princely castle, of which she is the rightful mistress. We have then a most magnificent description of the Queen's progress, of her reception, and all "the princely pleasures of Kenilworth Castle." While his wretched wife is exposed to various insults, Leicester, flattered almost to madness by the amatory expressions of the Queen, dares to avow respectful love for her person, and is scarcely rejected. At this crisis, the Queen meets Amy in the garden, hears her broken story, and, without comprehending the full extent of Leicester's infidelity, perceives that she has been deceived. A reconciliation, however, takes place; and Amy is sent from the castle, under pretence that she is insane. Varney, whose personal ambition incites him to risk all, to place his master with Elizabeth on the throne of England, next persuades him that his wife is faithless, and that Tressilian is the object of her unholy love. Thus inflamed by jealousy, he provokes his imagined rival to fight him, and is on the point of taking his life, when a letter from the Countess, which should have been delivered on his arrival, proves her fidelity and Tressilian's innocence. Penitent at last, he avows his marriage to the Queen, and sends to Cumnor-place, to prevent any wrong to his Countess. But his messenger is killed-the hand of vengeance is uplifted--and he just arrives himself in time to learn that, by the machinations of Varney and Foster, his wife has been precipitated through a trapdoor, into a vault, and dashed into pieces!

The best parts of the work, decidedly, are the first secret luxuries of Cumnor-place, the scenes in Elizabeth's court, and the festivities and distractions of Kenilworth Castle. Almost all the scenes, however, are too long for entire extraction, and too complete and dependant to admit of a fair exhibition of fragments. We must venture, however, on giving the scene where the Queen confronts Leicester with his wife, as it is, perhaps, the most various, spirited, and characteristic in the novel.

"Leicester was at this moment the centre of a splendid groupe of lords and ladies, assembled together under an arcade, or portico, which closed the alley. The company had drawn together in that place, to attend the commands of her Majesty, when the hunting-party should go forward; and their astonishment may be imagined, when, instead of seeing Elizabeth advance towards them, with her usual measured dignity of motion, they beheld her walking so rapidly, that she was in the midst of them ere they were aware; and then observed, with fear and surprise, that her features were flushed betwixt anger and agitation, that her hair was loosened by her haste of motion, and that her eyes sparkled as they were wont, when the spirit of Henry VIII. mounted highest in his daughter. Nor were they less astonished at the appearance of the pale, extenuated, half-dead, yet still lovely female, whom the Queen upheld by main strength with one hand, while with the other she waved aside the ladies and nobles who pressed towards her, under the idea that she was taken suddenly ill. Where is my Lord of Lei cester?" she said, in a tone that thrilled with astonishment all the courtiers who stood around Stand forth, my Lord of Leicester!"

If, in the midst of the most serene day of summer, when all is light and laughing around, a thunderbolt were to fall from the clear blue vault of heaven, and rend the earth at the very feet of some careless traveller, he could not gaze upon the smouldering chasm, which so unexpectedly yawned, before him, with half the astonishment and fear which Leicester felt at the sight that so suddenly presented itself. He had that instant been receiving, with a political affectation of disavowing and misunderstanding their meaning, the half uttered, half intimated congratulations of the courtiers upon the favour of the Queen, carried apparently to its highest pitch during the interview of that morning; from which most of them seemed to augur, that he might soon arise from their equal in rank to become their master. And now, while the subdued yet proud smile, with which he disclaimed those inferences, was yet curling his check, the Queen shot into the circle, her passions excited to the uttermost; and, supporting with one hand, and apparently without an effort, the pale and sinking form of his almost expiring wife, and pointing with the finger of the other to her half-dead features, demanded in a voice, that sounded to the ears of the astounded 'statesman like the last dread trumpet-call, that is to summon body and spirit to the judgment-seat," Knowest thou this woman?"

As, at the blast of that last trumpet, the guilty shall call upon the mountains to cover them, Leicester's inward thoughts invoked the stately arch, which he had built in his pride, to burst its strong conjunction, and overwhelm them in its ruins, But the e cemented stones, architrave, and battlement, stood fast; and it was the proud master himself, who, as if some actual pressure had bent him to the earth, kneeled down before Elizabeth, and prostrated his brow to the marble flagstones, on which she stood.

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"Leicester," said Elizabeth, in a voice, which trembled with passion, could I think thou hast practised on me--on me thy Sovereign-on me thy confiding, thy too partial mistress, the base and ungrateful deception, which thy present confusion surmises-by all that is holy,

false lord, that head of thine were in as great peril as ever was thy father's!"

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Leicester had not conscious innocence, but he had pride to sup port him. He raised slowly, his brow and features, which were black and swoln with contending emotions, and only replied," My head cannot fall but by the sentence of my peers to them I will plead, and not to a princess, who thus requites my faithful service.", diodos quinne "What! my lords," said Elizabeth, looking around, "we are defied, I think defied in the in the Castle, we have ourselves bestowed on this proud man! My Lord Shrewsbury, you are Marshall of England, attach him of high treason,"

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"Whom does your Grace mean?" said Shrewsbury, much surprised, Maland on 129dard for he had that instant joined the astonished circle. Whom should I mean, but that traitor, Dudley, Earl of Leicester! -Cousin of Hunsdon, order out your band of gentlemen pensioners, and take him into instant custody.I say, villain, make haste!* Hunsdon, a rough old noble, who, from his relationship to the Boleyns, was accustomed to use more freedom with the Queen than almost any others, replied bluntly, " And it is like your Grace"might order me to the Tower to-morrow, for making too much haste! I do bitors pational bas beseech you to be patient."

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Patient-God's life!" exclaimed the Queen,-name not the word to me thou know'st not of what he is guilty on blood roll 61 Amy, who had by this time in some degree recovered herself, and who saw her husband, as she conceived, in the utmost danger from the rage of an offended Sovereign, instantly (and, alas! how many women have done the same!) forgot her own wrongs, and her own danger, in her apprehensions for him, and throwing herself before the Queen, embraced her knees, while she exclaimed,"He is guiltless, madam he is guiltless-no one can lay aught to the charge of the noble Leicester." 1. 50p at 14 mont "Why, minion," answered the Queen,didst not thou, thy self, say that the Earl of Leicester was privy to thy whole history historya ng Did I say so?" repeated the unhappy Amy, laying aside every consideration of consistency, and of self-interest; O, if I did, I foully belied him. May God so judge me, as I believe he was never privy to, a, thought, th that would harm me!", at 99 076 ur bibqgars "Woman!" said Elizabeth," I will know, who has moyed thee to this; or my wrath, and the wrath of kings is a flaming fire, shall wither and consume thee lik like a a weed in the furnace. As the Queen uttered this threat, Leicester's better angel called his pride to his aid, and reproached him with the utter extrémity of meanness, which would overwhelm him for ever, if he stooped to take shelter under the generous interposition of his wife, and abandoned her, in return for her kindness, to the resentment of the Queen." He had already raised his head, with the dignity of a man of honour, to avow his marriage, and proclaim himself the protector of his Countess, when Varney, born, as it appeared, to be his master's evil genius, rushed into the presence, with every mark of disorder on his face and apparel "What means this saucy intrusion?" said Elizabeth.

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