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schemes were aimed against the throne it- wall and parapet, enclosing about two acres self, having for a principal object to free of land; but from its scite the building Mary, Queen of Scots, from her imprison- does not seem to be particularly well ment, and in all probability to secure to adapted for purposes of defence. The her the English succession. Without much outward area of the castle has only one consideration, as the result showed, they entrance, which is on the north side through raised the standard of rebe on, bells were a gateway, defended by two square towers, rung backwards in the various parishes to and flanked by a parapet with turrets. The encourage the people to revolt, and, march- inner area has two entrances; one modern, ing onwards, they assaulted and took Bar and opened by the late Earl; the other nard Castle. But Lord Sussex was now at ancient, towards the west, with a double hand with numbers fully equal to their own, gate. This last is the principal entrance the Earl of Warwick was about to follow to the castle. with a yet larger army, and the rebels The hall is of immense extent, bearing hastily retreated towards Scotland. Neither ample witness to the oligarchical spirit of Norfolk, nor the Earl of Westmorland, at the
in which it was erected. Over it is this juncture showed themselves equal to a banqueting room, where the ancient the parts they had undertaken. In the baronial festivals were celebrated, and in very moment when courage was most re this immense building seven hundred quisite to their safety, both vacillated, and knights were said to have been feasted at the timidity of the leaders naturally enough the same time. At the west end is a stone communicated itself to their adherents, who, gallery, where the minstrels sate and as they were less interested in the result, played during the repast, according to that might with reason be expected to shrink incomprehensible union which seems ever from a cause, which was so weakly main- to have prevailed between poetry and bartained by those most likely to benefit from barity. To provide a fitting feast for so its hazards. Finding that his followers numerous an assembly and their retainers, began to fall off, the Earl of Westmorland there is a kitchen below with three chimflung down the sword he had so rashly neys, and narrow passages in the walls, taken up, and was fortunate enough to through which the ready meal was served make his escape into the Netherlands. up into the banqueting room above, while There he died an exile, in 1584. His estates the oven was so capacious that it has since of course were forfeited for his rebellion; been converted into a wine cellar. Its and in the subsequent reign they were extent may be yet farther inferred from consigned for sale to certain citizens of the fact that the sides of it are divided into London, when Sir Henry Vane, knight, ten compartments, each of which is large purchased Raby Castle and the demesnes enough to contain a hogshead of wine in therewith connected. From him they have bottles. regularly and lineally descended to the There is little of historical recollection present possessor.
connected with Raby Castle, beyond what The castle is beautifully situated on a has been briefly noticed, and of romance, moderate declivity, about one mile north nothing; or if the ghosts and fairies, from Staindrop, on the east side of an ex familiar to such places, have at any time tensive forest. It stands upon a rocky haunted these walls, the very legends that foundation, surrounded with an embrasured recorded them are forgotten.
The Court MAGAZINE—a figure as sylph-like as the poetical reader taketh that of Lady
Emmeline Wortley to be, with orbs “ stolen from Heaven, and which it is religion to adore"-ruminates. She contemplates with admiration and awe the surface of the globe, and reverts, by way of contrast, to a citizen's villa. Thence she digresses to herself, confesses her pedigree, and folding her wings, shows what a magazine is not. She discourseth to herself of books and their troubles, and then falls into a speculation upon her own Portrait Gallery, the Ariadnes, the Altheas, and divers other wonders of England. Her imagination next apostrophises the Aristocracy. Pursuing this train of thinking, she loses herself in a dissertation upon Love, in the course of which she becomes scandalously personal. Hazlitt and Coleridge, Petrarch and Milton, Wyatt, and Roland, Surrey and Pope, and many other individuals equally respectable, are freely introduced into her unaccountable rhapsody. She next takes inexcusable liberties with the characters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and her husband, and then branches off into some reflections upon courtly marriages, illustrated by examples drawn from the age of Henry VIII. Her vagrant fancy diverges into a consideration of the month of May, and after chiding the seasons for their irregularity, she finds fault with Southwell the poet, and brings in Ben Jonson to set him right. Apostrophizing May, she becomes egotistical, and goes asleep singing Milton's “ Song on May-morning.”
FLOWER-GIRDLED earth!-marvellous is as is this incomprehensible Image of creathy beauty, which is as young as when the tion, each individual of the countless tribes First Pair ranged thy primeval solitudes is occupied with his inch of earth as prowhat a chaos of bewildering things-actual foundly and as exclusively as if the whole and ideal, visible and unseen, generated by domain of the animated world were emthe hand and the head, Passions, Interests, braced in that speck of clay. While volInstincts-crowd upon thy agitated sur canic islands are springing up in the midst face. From the pale strand of the unex of oceans, breaking tides and casting off plored Pole to the waters of the melting the currents into other directions—while South, a mighty multitude of men and myriads of men are pressing on the retreats their associations throng like visions in the of the wolf and the antelope, and convertfantastic panorama of the Imagination: the ing the lairs of the wild creatures of the vast thought sweeps before it all our petty forests into towns and corn-fields — while feelings of local and circumscribed attach a heaving continent is cracking, and a ments, and we lose the consciousness of thousand homesteads are sinking into the self, with its fine-spun threads of emotion, sudden gulf, in the midst of their festive its struggling importance, and its incessant pleasures, their holyday fêtes, their ringing bustle, in the contemplation of that miracle laughter, and their sunlight pomp—while of Life which we cannot grasp with all the argosies, freighted with the wealth of toil and striving of our labouring brains. nations, are floating serenely over remote
Yet great and magnificent as is this spec seas to carry gladness and civilisation to tacle of a breathing globe—of millions and the ends of the earth—your proud citizen, millions of beings absorbed in an endless retired to Twickenham or to Putney, envariety of pursuits, that mock enquiry and sconced in the golden felicity of a plum, register, speaking strange languages that believes, heartily and wholly, that the fate are as mysteries to each other, yet all of the world depends upon the next vestry struggling in the flesh, and vanishing in meeting, for which he has been preparing successive races to be replaced by new a speech upon parish abuses, for the last generations who survive to imitate their month. progenitors and die :--great and magnificent Well has William Howitt said, “ God
bless the mountains !” And glorious in lightly the earthly surface to which it is the majesty of freedom are the mountains, not akin, but gazing earnestly into the that, from their summits, survey the great ways
their abodes and usages, scheme of mingled woods, and rivers, and their hearts, their hidden impulses, their cities, and extending plains to the horizon's suppressed thoughts. Like the bird that verge. The Andes, “giant of the Western raises the dew into upper air upon its Star," the Apennines, the Alps, the Pyren- wings, and scatters it in the rejoicing beams nees—inequalities so vast, that to us who of the sun, we suffer the burthen of earth's scramble at their base, they seem like experience only to cast it abroad that it separate worlds. Then the forests,-Alsatia, may be wafted on the winds to the exwith its dark and poetical superstitions
tremities of space. the wondrous stretches of Canada-the We are alone, and we commune with impervious labyrinths of the whole of our own nature, testing its capabilities by Northern America—the trackless depths things with which it is associate. The of Germany, and the savage wilds of the comprehensive intellect that embraces the irreclaimable Ukraine. And rivers,—the whole area of the Quick and the Dead Guadalquiver, dancing with song — the the Universe, that is made up of more Rhine, the Moselle, and the Garonne, with species than science has yet drawn into its the rich grape suffusing their glowing vocabulary. Principles, Systems, Codes, tides—the Rhone, the “arrowy Rhone," are all composed of particles which, in the and the Danube, running between banks aggregate, constitute one great result. Let of legends—the graceful and poetical Wye the citizen glory in his scrap of freehold -the royal Seine—the Meuse, and the let him swagger over his stunted lawnOurt, uniting under the walls of Liege to let him sleep and dream of his shrubs, his terminate that exquisite valley which we bantam, and his new gig. He is an atom, try to describe in the phrase of le petit an indispensable atom in the great scheme. Switzerland. But these wonders are no Were he to worry himself about philothing to your retired citizen. He is taken sophy, he would go mad, and be detached up with his villa and his grounds. Moun- from the mass of which he now forms an tains !—he has a Grecian mountain ; what almost invisible part. are the Alps to him? Forests !-he has a
So it is with us. We are engrossed in wilderness, an invention that would puzzle the scenes that surround us. What if the a Red Indian. Rivers !—he has a cascade, circle be of greater circumference, and and a pond with gold and silver fish, and a more profound depth-the occupation is brook with gudgeons in it; and then he identical. However widely our sympathies stands fishing in a straw hat, and a lemon extend, a Magazine is a magazine. You coloured jacket, with one hand in his cannot embellish Pluto with the winged pocket, and a face full of intense agitation. feet, nor invest Vulcan with the attributes, If he catch a minnow, he would snap his of Apollo. This consideration places us fingers at Lake Ontario !
at once upon our proper ground. The Considerate reader, we have our own
functions we exercise are prescribed, world—a world of many phases, in which limited, definite. We cannot, for example, we are sometimes tempted to think that an perform any of the utilities of a tramway amount of interest concentrates which or a tunnel ; we cannot expel the comet embraces the whole circumference of the from its orbit, and traverse the illimitable sphere on which we move. Honoured be void for countless ages, visiting in our the names of Faust and Caxton; they track the confines of Saturn, (the planet of anticipated steam, and were in advance of wedlock), and dipping for cool air into the railways. We speak to you through lips Milky Way; nor can we execute the of type, that hath such lungs that its voice offices of a rook which, perched on the will be heard on the pinnacle of the topmost bough of some antique tree, Himalaya range as easily as in the adjacent screams itself to death. But our uses are space of Cavendish Square. We-the manifold nevertheless : like the old Court Magazine—not Maga, nor Regina,
if we do not fly, we think. but a new emanation of immortal Mind--a And, of a verity, we have much in these less definite, but a more spiritual creation times to think about. The Babel of -a birth between Hebe and Ganymede, books is a world by itself, more perplexing a roseate, joyous, bounding spirit, touching than the Cretan labyrinth, more toilsome
VOL. X.-N0. V.---MAY, 1837.
than the hill of Sisyphus, and more crossed and chiscled features, as full of beauty as with agitation than the face of Kilmar- if Phidias had designed them in search of nock, or the valleys of the Death's Head. ideal perfection, starts upon us to fascinate To discharge our obligations, there is a us with its enchantment --but that they task to draw the sorrows of age upon the present a succession of splendid visions, early locks of the fair and spiritual Maga. varied in their tone and power, and holdThen the budding of new genius in regions ing us in adiniration as much by their yet to be consigned to immortality—to number as their singular loveliness. Let watch the first shoot, to cherish it as it it not be said that these courtly embellishexpands, to strengthen its roots, and note ments of our page are without their value its full burst of perfect beauty, is not a less as agents of refinement, and promoters of onerous obligation than to expose men a worthier appreciation of exalted rank. dacious pretension wherever it appears.
If the middle classes enjoy the advantages But peculiar claims have women to our of the strong voice in the state, of sturdy pages-especial and distinct, and above all convictions, and, if you will, of inflexible other periodicals from John O’Groat's integrity in what they believe to be right, house to the Land's End, from Carrick- to the hereditary class, the descendants of fergus to Cape Clear, “ from Indus to the the barons of old, some of whom trace their Pole !” Compose thy golden tresses, ex blood to the imperial line of Charlemagne, quisite Muse, and fix thy subdued eyes, belongs that cultivated ascendancy of the in which the light lies like an “imprisoned intellect which subdues the ruder elements sunbeam,” upon that gorgeous procession of our nature, and asserts its dignified and of the Ariadnes, the Sapphos, the Stellas, calm authority over the weaknesses, the the Lesbias, the Altheas of our Isles ! In errors, and the impetuosity of imperfect this proud train which we have invoked, knowledge. The sphere of their expeand which has arisen, one by one, in our rience is wide ; their responsibility to their gallery, behold the multiform shapes country is heavy; they are educated for which love takes in its devotions; the their duties, and their lives are dedicated young and trustful heart expressed through to employments that embrace a larger field cleft lips, on which words of confidence of human interests than can enter into the and hope appear to cluster— the saddened contemplations of their grovelling calumspirit casting its shadows over the marble niators. We do not utter this with a brow, and blanching the early roses in the political bias; we throw aside the concheek—the accomplished vow, confirmed tentions of party; we speak of the nobility in the smile of surety and repose—the of England as of the fountain of its honour, betrothed, with a flutter in the eyes that of its historical glories, its chivalry, and of betrays her secret—and the young wife, all its refining influences. If we search in looking onward with a radiant ecstasy these groups of portraits for traits to susof face that hath a marvellous criticism tain our faith, we find them in profusion, in its beauty. Throughout this galaxy of blended with the tenderest and most charms have we not manifested to the poetical expression. Love, not as a sentiscoffers of rank, the poor and ribald crea ment or perfumed vapour, but as an active tures who cannot look beyond the mean representative of all that is intellectual and level of their own caste for the ennobling devotional in our feelings, hallows these graces of life, that the Aristocracy of Eng- counterparts of the Noble and Beautiful, land are not a nobility of stars and ribands, and consecrates them to enduring fame! but that they bear upon their foreheads And what is this Love, this tremulous the stamp and impress of Nature's great disturber of our rest, about which so much ness? In what quarter of the world, in has been said, written, sung, and fought: what class of society, in what choice para for which Hammond died, Essex fell, and dise of “nods, and becks, and wreathed Tasso lay in captivity ?-concerning which smiles,” can such lofty expression of soul, the more explanations we obtain, the more such innate purity of heart, such high we are in the dark ?-which never affects culture and intelligence be found as are two persons alike, and which, nevertheless, testified to the life in those distinguished affects every body in common ?—which is portraits which we have derived indis- to-day as gay as primroses in the lap of criminately from the Ladies of our Peerage? spring, and to-morrow as dismal as the It is not that here and there a fine head; icicled flower in winter ?which Lady
Blessington describes to be of a restless contemplations of the minister from heaand inconstant and treacherous nature; venly things to themselves, and when they and Mr. D’Israeli, the younger, describes capture the reverend lover, they believe to be passionate, and enthusiastic, perma that they have achieved a triumph over nent and persevering?—which Crashaw, the faith itself. But Hazlitt was out of hupriest, dissolved in kisses, and Waller, thé mour with love when he wrote so bitterly courtier, banished in hymns ?—which con against a sex to which he always looked verted Henry VIII. to Protestantism, and for the only springs of happiness which raised John Ernest Bisen from servitude to his unsettled life discovered. He was once a throne ?-which lost the world to Mart sadly disappointed, and that soured him, Antony, and made Spenser a poet ? - until, like Rousseau, he fell in love again, which is the burthen of every ballad, play, and was again deceived. But the estimate and romance, in every language, and which of women which his experience enabled subsisted in infinite varieties throughout him to form, must be taken only for so all ages of the world, in all climates, and much as it is worth—and that is very under all forms of government, free and little. All he required was the excitement despotic, nomadic and monarchical, repub- of an imaginary passion. The object itself lican and oligarchical, elective and here was a pure accident. He did not love a ditary, flourishing with unabated luxu woman because she possessed qualities to riance in spite of all decrees, ukases, command and sustain respect, but because firmans, manifestoes, pains, penalties, and it was necessary to him to believe that he bulls to the contrary ?
loved something. She might, or might Sterne tells us in the Sentimental Jour not be worthy; and being thus adopted ney, that he was constantly falling in love, upon impulse, the chances were against that whenever he happened to fall out of her. The consuming energies of his own it he never was satisfied with himself or spirit supplied all the attributes that were the world, and that all the good and requisite to transform her into an idol preamiable actions of his life were committed pared to receive his worship: he idealized when he was under its influence. Hazlitt, her and loved her: he surrounded her who always imagined himself in love, and with a halo that he might lose himself in who struggled to keep himself constantly its beams, and when they vanished before in the exaltation of its beatitude, gives us his returning sense, and he saw her in her a very different account of the matter. He common-place reality, he recoiled, and took tells us that love in women is vanity, or arms against the sex for another interval of interest, or fancy; that it is merely selfish- heresy. ness; that it has no foundation in friend One of Coleridge's biographers, speaking ship, esteem, or even pity; that it is a of that remarkable man, observes that there blind, head-strong impulse, and that it is was a yearning tone of feeling about him, never to be secured by talents or by virtue. which betrayed the uneasiness of one who The only instance he allows of the possi- lacked sympathy, and who, in the midst bility of a woman loving a man for the of his fame, seemed to pine for some being sake of his mental endowments, is in the upon whom he might expend the supclerical character. In this, perhaps, he pressed affections of his heart. It is so was right. Lord Chesterfield—who was with all finely organised minds, and sensiwell informed upon the worst side of the tive temperaments.
Like the half-creasex-said that he would rather be rivalled tures of Plato, they are imperfect until in the good graces of a lady by a captain they find a kindred nature. This is a than a curate. The privileges that attach condition in the existence of superior into clergymen in society, throw people off tellect, which cannot subsist upon popular their guard. They are never observed or flattery, and the ordinary rewards of public suspected; and their approaches are, there
Men do not toil of their own fore, covert and insidious. They make volition for mere abstract objects; and love under false pretences; they steal the when they devote themselves to pursuits human affections under the mask of a apart from the associations of Love, it is divine mission ; they fling a sanctity round either to escape from the misery of soine the language of passion, and absolve the bitter miscalculation of that kind, or besin they provoke. Then women are flat cause they have already exhausted their tered by the thought of transferring the treasury of “deep longings.” Even when