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No. 78.]

London Magazine:

A JOURNAL OF ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION
FOR GENERAL READING.

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THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE.
(FOUGHT A.D. 1388.)

"O Douglas, Douglas, tender and true!"-Old Ballad.

Ir is the Percy's pennon that strangelaves on high,
In wan moonlight, amid the fight of Scotland's chivalry;
But Percy comes, he comes amain, andoud the battle raves
Where o'er the gallant Douglas that haughty standard waves;
And all Northumbria's noblest are mustering on the plain,
With Neville's and with Dacre's, that standard to regain;
And all the flower of Scotland is mingling in the war,

St. Clare and many a Drummond, with Moray and Dunbar,1
And he whose hand the mightiest brand in all the battle drew,
In blooming youth, with graceful mien, the Douglas brave and truc.
Then evermore like waves that roar in vain on rock-bound strand,
That southern army charges home the chiefs of northern land;
But stern and high the battle cry, that bids the Borderer close,
Of "Douglas, Douglas, for the right!" from all that line arose,

As proud and calm the peerless knight to his last charge drew nigh,
With boding soul, but flashing eye that spake of victory!

Oh glory to the "Bloody Heart" that gleams upon his shield!
And glory to the stalwart arm that bids the focman yield!

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And now the moon is waning; nor friend nor foe descries

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The blood-stained spot where, faint and low, the wounded Douglas lies;
A soldier-priest3 that ever nigh his dauntless chicftain stood,
Bends over him he loved so well, in sorrow's darkest mood;
Sore-smitten was the knight, but yet, with eye whose burning light
No mortal foe might ever quench, he watched the doubtful fight.

On, on," he cried, "my merry men! and thou whose faithful shield
Alone supports the Douglas on this his last red field!

Go, shout on high the stirring cry that bids our comrades close,
That so the fame of my good name may still confound the foes;
For these strong limbs shall never waste on couch of lingering pain,
But like my sires I meet my death on battle's blood-red plain;
And yet
know, the conqueror's shout shall sound ere early morn,
Meet requiem to the Douglas that fails by Otterbourne;
For once in watches of the night, I dreamed a dreary dream
Of spectral man, that pale and wan, 'mid living hosts did seem
With good broad-sword to win that day the crown of victory,
And now I know 'tis true at last that spectral knight was I!"
Once more the ranks of England are charged with might and main,
And once they seemed to rally, then madly scour the plain;
For the great brand of the dying Earl seemed mighty as before;
No living knight such wonders wrought as he who fought no more.
A simple cress amid the heath, with pious hands they rear,
Then bear away, in sad ariny, the Douglas on his bier.

And now he sleeps amid the sires of his own lofty line,
And banners wave above his grave, in good St. David's shrine.
And Scotland's maidens many a day in simple song shall mourni
The dying knight that won the fight so well at Otterbourne.

THE MAIDEN AUNT.3—No. III. CHAP. VI.

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I FOUND Owen, as I expected, in great wrath. He was | I said, “and I am very sorry that I have misled you walking rapidly up and down the room, while Kinnaird, unintentionally." Here I stopped, for I was afraid to whose levity was unconquerable, stood on the hearth-attack his opinions, and unwilling to acquiesce in them, rug, coolly regarding him, and looking ready to laugh- so I resolved to stand on the defensive. an inclination which good breeding scarcely restrained. My brother stopped in his angry walk as I entered, and, coming close up to me, said, with great vehemence, Peggy, this is the most incredible piece of absurdity that I ever met with in my life. Of course, it cannot be permitted to go on for a moment, and I oily wonder that you-but you have evidently been duped in the

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matter."

I saw Frank's colour rise at the offensive word, and hastened to interpose. "I have been mistaken, certainly,"

(1) See Froissart-(Johnes's Edit. Vol. II. 362) who adds, "Of all the battles that have been described in this history, great and small, this of which I am now speaking was the best lought and the most severe; for there was not a man, knight or squire, that did not acquit himself gallantly, hand to hand with his enemy."

(2) The Bloodye Harte' was the well-known cognizance of the House of Douglas, assumed from the time of the cod Lord

Misled me !" replied my indignant brother. "Yesbut I have my own folly to thank for it, in not putting Miss Kinnaird under the charge of a person who knew something of the world-Mrs. Alvanley for instance"(oh, could Mrs. Alvanley have heard him !)" Yet, even allowing you the simplicity of a pinafored girl of thirteen, I can't understand how you should have so completely lost your wits. The insanity of allowing this Captain Everard's perpetual visits is to me perfectly inexplicable."

James, to whose care Robert Bruce committed his heart to be carried to the .oly Land."-Scott's Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel,

(5) William of North Berwick, who was Chaplain to the Douglas. (4) See the Ballad of the Battle of Otterbourne" in Scott's Border Minstrelsy.

(5) Continued from page 363.

"This Captain Everard," remarked Kinnaird, "is one of the most distinguished officers in the service—a man as superior to Lord Vaughan, in mind and manners, as Lord Vaughan is to a chimney-sweep-and, moreover, my most intimate friend."

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"Miss Forde, before I go-and I feel that I must not "So be it," returned Owen, more calmly, but with remain-I am anxious that you should do me justice intense obstinacy of tone, "nevertheless, his pretensions Till this morning I was not aware of Mr. Forde's exto the hand of Miss Kinnaird are simply ludicrous, and istence, much less of Edith's"-(he pronounced the word I do not intend that he shall have the opportunity of with a lingering hesitation of tone very unusual with urging them again. Perhaps you will have the good-him, and a most eloquent glance at the drooping figure ness to notify this to him."

"No, Mr. Forde," retorted Frank, "I must request you to be the bearer of your own messages-I cannot undertake the office."

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My dear Frank," said I, putting my hand on his arm, "it is not by irritating my brother that we have any hope of changing his resolution. You are naturally excited; now, do go away, and leave me to do the best I can with him. Go to Edith," added I in a whisper, urging him gently towards the door, "I think she ought to hear the truth at once."

He seemed, at first, disposed to resist my suggestion but at that moment a step was heard in the hall, and with a half-laugh and a significant look to me, he quitted the room, leaving me with the consolatory impression that he had gone out to join his friend, and, not improbably, to conduct him to Edith!

By this time Owen had quite recovered his coolness, which, indeed, rarely forsook him, and turning to me he said, with a deliberation which left no room for hope, "There is no use in discussing the subject. The young lady will, I dare say, shed a few natural tears, and pout a little, as in duty bound-but in a fortnight she will be ready for another lover, and by the year's end she will congratulate herself on having some one to act for her, who has the good luck to possess a little common sense. Only let this be distinctly understood, that I allow no interview, no engagement, no correspondence. I won't have an under-current of mystery to keep up sentimental nonsense in a silly girl's brain. Let it all be at an end, and, if she behaves well, I promise to say nothing to her about it. Tell her this, Peggy, and now let me get my luncheon."

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Owen, you are positively cruel. I do assure you this is no new girlish fancy that will pass away. It is unfortunate, I admit, but she is really and thoroughly attached to him."

My brother began to laugh. "I admire the real and thorough attachment of a girl of eighteen," said he. "A pack of nonsense! I beg your pardon, Peggy, but I certainly never made a greater mistake than in selecting you for a duenna-your manner of viewing things is so inimitably youthful. Take her to choose a new bonnet, or talk to her about her court-dress for the spring!"

The tone in which he spoke was inexpressibly provoking, and I felt my temper beginning to give way. "As you say," I replied, "it is useless to discuss the subject-our views are so utterly opposite, that each speaks to the other as if in a foreign language. I consider you at least as much in the wrong as you consider me. Only, if you fancy it will be an easy task to induce Edith to give up her engagement, I can tell you you are completely mistaken."

"You are angry," he answered, "yet you can scarcely be surprised that I don't feel any very profound confidence in your judgment just at present. I know your intentions are the best in the world-but I can't forget that it is scarcely a weck since you wrote me word that Miss Kinnaird was in a fair way to become Lady Vaughan. My dear Peggy, if you will walk through the world with your eyes shut, and resist every effort to open them, you must at least suffer yourself to be led by the hand."

I bit my lips and was silent, and Owen withdrew to his bedroom. I went slowly up stairs to Edith's boudoir, where, as I had anticipated, I found both Kinnaird and

on the sofa)-"much less of Edith's dependence on his will. I imagined that Frank and yourself were her sole guardians, and you know that, even when I thus thought, I was not guilty of the presumption of supposing myself an acceptable suitor."

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'No, no-not presumption-don't use the word!" murmured Edith."

He looked at her for a moment in silence, and then proceeded, though in a less steady tone of voice, "I am as conscious as Mr. Forde himself can be, that a poor man, and a man of no family, is, as the world judges, without a right-"

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But here Edith interrupted him. Suddenly clasping his hand between her own, and lifting her beautiful face, all burning with blushes and suffused with tears, she exclaimed, Oh, hollow nonsense! it is yourself that I love. One unset diamond is more valuable than a tiara of glittering paste! What could family or fortune have to do with you, except to receive honour from you?" Recovering himself with an effort, a still keeping Edith's hand in his, Everard continue in a low restrained voice, the calmness of which betrayed the intensity of the agitation which he was repressing, "I should despise myself for ever were I capable of taking advantage of these feelings to involve her in a clandestine engagement; at her age-under her circumstances-it were unmanly and dishonourable. No! I must go for three years we part, and she is as free as if she had never known me."

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"She is free!" repeated Edith. "Ah! say it of me if you will; but you do not dare say it to me. not mock me by telling me that I am free, at the very moment when you are riveting my chains. But oh! such a happy prisoner!" she added, relapsing into tears, and speaking in a broken, faltering voice; "we have not time for all this conventionalism-this acting -oh! speak really to me!--this once more- this last time-speak as you are, and as you feel !"

His stoicism was fairly conquered. "My own Edith!" said he, in a voice tender as a mother's to her first-born-reverent as a devotee's to his saint—“ I will not wound you any more by false phrases. It is true; you are my own; and were we to part for ten years, instead of three, I should esteem it sin to suffer one doubt of you to trouble my peace. My faith in you comes next to my faith in God; God grant it be not the stronger of the two! Bear these three years, for my sake; knowing that I am with you the whole time, though the wide world be between us, and that, when we meet, we shall meet as though we had never parted!"

She subdued her emotion to listen to him; raising her head, and holding her breath, as though she feared to lose a word. What evil spirit brought to my mind at such a moment her vain and girlish love of general admiration and attention, and suggested to me that she would fail in the refined and impassioned constancy which he demanded of her?

"And, remember this, my beloved," he continued more hurriedly, "that I go from you, a changed man, and that the change is your work. My misanthropy is gone from me. I feel that I have sinned against the world, and the race to which I belong. I feel and confess the folly and self-sufficiency of my distrust of others. Even at this moment, this thought makes me happy; for my faith and love are restored, or rather created

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anew. Frank," wringing his hand, "I have wronged | times at least, was commonly attributed to them. To you; forgive me; I know you now,-aye, and I know myself too. Edith-but it is enough! God bless you!" Silently returning my silent pressure of the hand, he hurried from the room, and the low sobs of Edith were the only sounds which disturbed the stillness.

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And so ends the history of the first period of my acquaintance with Edith Kinnaird. A nervous fever was the natural result of that day of agitation; but it was neither long nor severe; and Owen classed it with the hysterics and fainting-fits which he believed that all young ladies were capable of summoning to their assistance at pleasure. When I resigned her to the charge of Lady Frances Moore, she had recovered her health, and, in some measure, her spirits; for she was of an elastic and energetic nature, and was now possessed by the one sole purpose of cherishing secretly the recollection of her lover, and endeavouring to employ the three years of separation in rendering herself more worthy of him. I knew how soon this enthusiasm would flag; how wearily the slow hours would struggle onward; but in very pity I would not disturb it. Like the eagerness of a young horse at the foot of a long steep ascent, though transient, it was real, and would carry her forward unconsciously over a portion of the way. But the toil must begin; and, alas! how would she bear it?

With her tacit engagement Owen could not interfere -about the state of her feelings he did not trouble himself; and the next thing I heard was that she had been presented at Court in white satin and diamonds, and all London was raving of her matchless beauty.

ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES OF GERMANY AND THE GERMANS.1

WHATEVER the future fortune of Germany may be, it is to be hoped that its children will never lose their present morai character. They are the most engaging people possible, meaning not sprightly and amusing, but people with whom you rapidly and easily feel your self at home. The first point in their character which strikes one, is the honest simplicity which distinguishes almost every one you meet; there is none of the vain glorious vapouring of the French, or the loquacious impudence of the Yankee, or the morose self sufficiency of the English, but a good-humoured and affectionate single-mindedness and probity of thought and action, which at once sets one at ease even in a company of perfect strangers. From the fat old fellows, with scarce any necks and enormous paunches, whose whole life seems devoted to smoking long pipes and drinking coffee, to the chubby cheeked, yellow haired, round sterned little damsels whose existence is divided between reading romances and knitting stockings, this charming simplicity is universally apparent. And, united to this, is a good humour and kindliness of disposition which renders it still more agreeable: one seldom sees a German in a passion; this may be attributed to their phlegmatic temperament; but then, one still more seldom sees one of a sulky sullen demeanour; on the contrary, they seem always to have a smile and a kind word for every one and everything. All those little inconveniences, which would set an Englishman fretting and fuming for a day, are disposed of with a laugh, or at most a long winded but most harmless execration, and an extra whiff; nor, as they grumble less, do they enjoy less; on the contrary, they not only delight in all the beauties, whether rural or urban, of their land, but always take pleasure in pointing out to strangers whatever may be of interest to them. In fact, I do not know how the Germans ever acquired that character for boorish rudeness and bluntness of bearing which, in former (1) Continued from page 393.

me it seems that the honest kindliness of their dispositions has led them to exactly the right medium between our own surly reserve, and the chattering showy politeness of the French. The politeness of the French, from the peer to the meanest peasant, as contrasted with the demeanour, especially of our lower orders, has been commented on with admiration from the days of Addison and Goldsmith to our own, till it has become proverbial; and I do not deny them all the merit which they are entitled to claim on this score; but yet the politeness of the French always seems to me to have too much gloss and tinsel about it; the substratum of genuine kind feeling, which is the foundation of all true politeness, I cannot help thinking is generally wanting, or at any rate the outward froth and foam is so superabundant as entirely to conceal the reality beneath. But with the Germans it is quite the contrary: all their politeness seems to spring from, as it is accompanied by, good feeling and kindness of heart, so that, though there may be more homeliness and less finish about them than with their French neighbours, there is a heartiness and benevolence mingled with their courtesy, which makes it far more pleasing. Nor are these agreeable manners confined to the upper and middle classes. I remember, one morning rather early, in a somewhat out of the way place not far from the Rhine, being in want of breakfast, going into a small Gasthaus, or, as we should call it, road-side public house; the only provisions which could be produced without delay were brown bread and beer; and I sat down to discuss this breakfast at a table at which a labouring man was making his way through a repast composed of similar materials. He was but a working mason, and evidently very poor; but he made room for us, and proffered various little courtesies with as much politeness as if he had been a nobleman. Finding we were English, he entered into conversation about the country, and so forth, and, telling us that several of his relations had emigrated to America, asked our advice as to the expediency of his doing so himself, as to the best way of doing it, and various other matters; always apologizing for the liberty he was taking, and uniting in his conversation a degree of simplicity and politeness which contrasted strangely with what would have been the bearing of a peasant in Suffolk or Yorkshire in similar circumstances. When he had finished his breakfast, he rose with an apology and a regret that he was obliged to go, and, with a low bow, wished us good morning and a pleasant journey. Now, there was something very striking about all this to an Englishman, who is accustomed to connect boorishness of address with lowness of station, especially as there was nothing cringing or servile in the man's demeanour, but, on the contrary, a proper respect for himself, mingled with a sense of what was due to others. Then, the upper ranks reciprocate the same politeness of behaviour, and no one can travel in Germany without seeing everywhere numerous instances of perfect affability amongst those highest towards those lowest in station. One meets with very few of the Limkins class, very few of those superb personages who, feeling that

"Nature had but little clay

Like that of which she moulded them,"

are always afraid of the least communication with those of common mould, for fear that the pure china of which they are composed, should suffer from contact with mere earthenware. On the contrary, princes and nobles seem to put their patents of nobility into their pockets, and only to take them out with their passports. Our friend the Bavarian general was a capital instance of this sort of thing. Baron though he was, and knight of I don't know how many orders of merit, from the Black Eagle of Prussia to the Lion and Sun of Persia, he sat at a common table in an inferior inn, with shopkeepers, mailguards, and travelling pedlars, and conversed with them as comfortably as if they had all been titled guests,

with their legs under his own mahogany, whilst they, though evidently a little proud of their table companion, joked and laughed with him, conversing as freely and unceremoniously as if he had been one of themselves; all the time, however, giving him his title, and treating him with proper politeness. The Baron had but two acquaintances in Wurzburg, one a young nobleman who was a student at the college there, and was not to be found, and the other a poor apothecary, who kept a small shop hard by. On coming in, in the evening, from a walk, we found the Baron and the poor medico sitting together over a bottle of wine, and chatting as comfortably as if there had been no difference in their ranks. These panegyrics, however, on the ease and familiarity with which all ranks mingle together in Germany, must be taken with a reservation; for, when we hear the English abused for the exclusiveness with which they avoid communication with those of inferior rank, the answer to the accusation is, that this very exclusiveness is in reality the best proof that no essential exclusiveness founded on difference of rank exists. I have read somewhere a remark on the greater formality of the forms of society in the highest circles in England, now-a-days, than in former times, inasmuch as that, whereas a hundred years ago it was common to address and speak of noblemen of the highest rank by familiar and christian names, every one now is mistered and my lorded even amongst friends; and the explanation given of this anomaly was a very satisfactory one, that in former times the persons who met in the common circle of acquaintanceship were all of the same, or nearly the same, rank, so as to be able to speak with perfect freedom without fear of offending; but now that these exclusive barriers are broken down, as persons of various stations mix together, the same familiarity cannot exist outwardly, though the essential familiarity of intercourse is much greater. So in the present day amongst the most exclusive society in the world, the crême de la créme of Vienna, princes and princesses often call each other by their Christian names, while, on the other hand, in America, where all real difference of rank is unknown, there exists the greatest exclusiveness of circle, and the utmost formality of politeness, And this in a great measure accounts for the difference in this respect between our own habits and those of Germany. Wherever classes are separated by a real and distinct line of demarcation, there may be much intercourse, and that intercourse may be much more familiar between individuals of those classes, than where there is no such division, and where, consequently, in order to keep up the distinction at all, the upper classes must necessarily be exclusive. In the middle ages, the lord sat at the same table with his dependants; he mingled in their sports, and held much more frequent intercourse with them than now, because the line between their ranks was so distinctly drawn, that it could never be encroached upon; but now, no one sits down to table with his footman, or has the housemaid to do plain work in the drawing-room, because John is no longer the born vassal of, but as good a man as, his master, and Sally may wear silks and satins, and ride in a coach, if she chooses to pay for it, without fear of the sumptuary laws or any others. Now it is this state of matters, this real want of exclusiveness, which produces that outward exclusiveness, of which so much is said. But in Germany, on the other hand, things are in a different position; till very lately the privileges and the rights of the various classes in the nation were very different, and ranks were rigidly divided by a very distinct line; the influence of this constitution of society has not yet passed away. Even now, the nobles form a very distinct class; the pride of pedigree still exists almost as strongly as ever; we often see a man without ten pounds in his pocket, with his coat of arms of sixteen or twenty quarters emblazoned on his pipe, or his pocket-book. There are several orders of knighthood, to be eligible for which the candidate must produce a genealogical tree,

displaying a certain number of unblemished descents; and marriages between the nobility and the burgher class are looked on with great suspicion and spoken of as mésalliances. Then the system of orders of merit of itself creates a palpable distinction of classes; so that, on the whole, the division of ranks is far more strongly and more directly recognised in Germany than in England, and thus a greater familiarity of casual intercourse is admissible in the former country, than with us. With regard again to another point which is generally urged against the English by foreigners, namely, their coldness towards strangers, their intense dislike to hold communication with any one to whom they have not been introduced, as contrasted with the foreign custom, that, if three or four persons are casually thrown together, they shall begin chatting as if they had known one another all their lives;-the foreign system is undoubtedly the pleasantest and the best. Every one knows the story of the young gentleman at Oxford, who declined to assist a fellow-collegian out of the river when drowning, because they had never been introduced; and every one too has experienced the martyrdom of an evening party where you know no one; every one knows the misery of such a situation, the intense labour of the attempt to appear comfortable, whilst all the time you feel continually in the way, and think everybody must be looking at you; the ardent longings to get home, and the Byronian misanthropy which grows on you, and the frightful conviction of the demoniac joy which you would feel if every one of the human beings present, but who to you are mere tabooed dolls, were to be annihilated on the spot. Nothing, certainly, can be more absurd than our fashions, with regard to the necessity of an introduction, before two rational and sentient beings can recognise the existence of one another,—but we must not let our indignation hurry us too far. It may be laid down as a pretty general rule, that the most savage and warlike nations are the most polite: an American Indian is as full of punctilios as a Spanish hidalgo; and the highlanders, who were the last of the inhabitants of Britain in the general custom of carrying offensive weapons, were, and still are, distinguished for politeness; and the reason of this is apparent; the principle is the same as that which renders every member of a company precisely observant of the minutest rules of good breeding, the instant that a professed duellist is introduced amongst them; but, on the other hand, the very state of society, which renders universal politeness necessary, prevents people from suddenly forming acquaintances, for an acquaintance with any individual is not then a mere casual interchange of intercourse, but a binding friendship, an engagement to stand by one another in all circumstances. Thus, in the feudal times, men either knew each other not at all, or were sworn allies. The effect of this state of society is still traceable in the difference between the manners of Scotland and England, wherein the former country, being latest civilized, the inhabitants are notoriously colder, and more reserved towards strangers, than in the latter, whilst, at the same time, the bond of connexion is far stronger amongst relatives and intimate friends. On this principle, however, it may be said, that the difference between English and German manners should be exactly the reverse of what it is in fact; that in Germany, the latest and less civilized country, there should be less aptitude for acquaintanceship than in England. I have heard this contradiction explained by the Germans, by saying that the old principle which formerly obtained in consequence of their warlike turn, has been continued from the commercial habits of the people of England: that, as in former times, one required to know something of a man's following, before making friends with him, so as to calculate what his aid might be in a feud, so now it is necessary to have the recommenda tion of a friend in order to be assured that he is a good man. There may be some truth in this view, but the

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