EXTRACTS FROM FINDEN'S TABLEAUX. [The following pieces are contributions of Miss Mitford to "FINDEN'S TABLEAUX," of which Annual she was the editor.] PREFACE. IN commending this volume to the public, the editor has little to say, beyond the pleasant duty of thanking her accomplished coadjutors for such poetry, and, in one instance, such prose, as may render her pages no unfit companion to the beautiful engravings which they are intended to illustrate. For her own poor part, she has only to solicit for stories necessarily brief, and written, from circumstances over which she had no control, in more than usual haste, the same indulgence which has been extended to the productions, -over-numerous, perhaps,-which she has sent forth during the last fifteen years. It is right to mention, that the two songs in one of her little tales, have been stolen from herself; being verses that she did not quite wish to die; and which had appeared in two works out of print, and, to all intents and purposes, as good or as bad as manuscript. Three Mile Cross, September 19th, 1837. geant, at joust, and at tournament, ever since his return from the wars! Men say that, for all that he hath fought against the Soldan, and carried the "blanche-lion," the old banner of of France and Italy, he hath rather the mien his house, foremost among the proud chivalry of a young page than of a stalwart warrior, so smooth and fair is his brow, so graceful his form, so gentle and courteous his bearing. Still amort, Sweeting! mute as a marble image on thy very bridal eve!" And the good old Margaret, seeing her lady still unmoved, paused for very vexation. "So generous a wooer too!" exclaimed one of the attendant maidens, glancing at the profusion of rich gifts with which a heavy wain had been laden, and which had arrived that very day at the castle, under convoy of the good knight's squire, and a score or two of pages and men-at-arms, and which now lay in magnificent profusion about the tapestried chamber, scattered amidst the quaint antique furniture, high-backed ebony chairs, oaken screens, cut into mimic lace-work; marble slabs, resting on gilded griffins, or some such picturesque monsters of heraldry; and huge cabinets, composed of the rarest woods, an entire history, profane or sacred, carved upon the doors, and surmounted with spires and pinnacles, like the decorated shrine of a Gothic cathedral; the whole scene, lighted up by the bright beams of the evening sun, coloured into a thousand vivid hues, as they glanced through the storied panes of the oriel window. A scene more bright, or more gorgeous, than that stately lady's bower, tenanted, as it was, by wo"WHAT! not a word to thy poor old nurse, man in her fairest forms, by venerable age and or thy faithful bower-women? Not a nod, or blooming youth, could hardly be found in a smile, or a kindly look, to show that thou merry England. Yet there sat the youthful heedest us? Thou that wast wont to be the lady of the castle, in the midst of all this costmerriest and kindliest damsel in merry Cum-ly beauty, languid and listless, pale and moberland, the fair and the noble Edith Clifford, tionless as a statue. the wealthiest maiden north of Trent, about to 66 So generous a wooer, too!" exclaimed be wedded, too, to the young Philip Howard, Mistress Mabel, the pretty bright-eyed bruthe goodliest and the bravest knight of Kingnette, the Lady Edith's principal bower-woHenry's court, for whose favour the gay dames man, who being reckoned the best adjuster of i of the south have been trying and vying at pa- a head-tire, and the most skilful professor of ENGLAND. THE KING'S WARD. "I have no joy of this contract to-night." SHAKSPEARE. 47 (557) all arts of the loom and the needle, whether in white-seam, cut work, tapestry, or broidery, of any maiden in the north country, was more especially alive to the rarity and richness of Sir Philip's gifts. "So generous a wooer, too! only look at these carpets from Persia! "Tis a marvel how folk can have the heart to put foot on such bright flowers; they seem as if they were growing! And these velvets from Genoa; were ever such colours seen? And the silken stuff's from Padua, that stand on end with their own richness; what kirtles and mantles they will make! and the gloves of Cales, that cause the chamber to smell like a garden full of spice, cloves, and jessamine! And these veils from the Low Countries, as fine as a spider's web! And the cloth of gold, and the cloth of silver, -where did Master Eustace say they came from, Dame Margaret? And this golden vessel for perfumes, which looks like a basket all over-run with grapes and ivy?" "That was wrought by a cunning goldsmith of Florence," responded old Margaret, "whose skill is so surpassing, that, albeit he employs chiefly the precious metals, the workmanship is of more value than the materials. This silver tray, with the delicate trellis-work, wreathed with lilies and roses round the edge, and the story of Diana and Ac-Ac-fie on my old brains! I shall forget my own name soon!-Diana and he that was turned into a stag-' "Acteon!" whispered Alice, the fairest and most youthful of the Lady Edith's attendants, gently and unostentatiously supplying the good dame's failure of memory, without looking up from her work. "Ay, Acteon! I thank thee, Alice. Thy wits are younger than mine by fifty good years, or more. This silver salver, with the light delicate edge, that seems like the work of the fairies, and the story of Diana and Actæon inside, is by the saine hand." "And then the caskets of precious stones!" pursued the enthusiastic waiting damsel, warming at the contemplation of the finery. "The brooches and bracelets! The coronets and the carkanets! why, yonder wreath of emeralds and amethysts, which lies on the table underneath the great Venetian glass-to think of my lady never having had the curiosity to look into that!” (and Mistress Mabel took a self-satisfied peep at her own pretty figure, as it was reflected on the broad clear surface of the rare and costly mirror,) "that single wreath, which she hath never vouchsafed to glance upon: and the ropes of pearl which I laid upon her lap, and which she hath let drop upon the floor;-do pick them up, Alice! -I verily believe the foolish wench careth as little for these precious adornments as the Lady Edith herself! That one wreath, and those strings of pearl, be worth an earl's ransom." At this moment the sound of a harp was The air was smooth and flowing, and the voice of Robert Fitz-Stephen, one of the most approved of the courtly minstrels: but still the Lady Edith sat pale and motionless, as though the tide of melody had glided unfelt over her senses, producing no more impression than the waters of the lake upon the plumage of the cygnet. Dame Margaret sighed deeply; and Mabel, giving her head a provoked impatient jerk, resumed her embroidery with such furious rapidity, that she broke her silk half-a-dozen times in the course of a minute, and well-nigh spoiled the carnation upon which she was engaged, and which she had intended to outvie the natural blossom in Father Francis's flower-border. Young Alice, drawing her tapestry-frame nearer to them, and further from the Lady Edith, and speaking in a low tone, even lower than her own soft and gentle natural voice, resumed the conversation. 66 For my poor part, good Mabel (call me foolish an' thou wilt), Ido not wonder at our sweet lady's sadness. Think what a piteous thing it is to be an orphan; think but of that great grief! And then to be a great heir to boot, left in the king's ward, and dragged from her old dear home in her old dear north countrie, to this fine grand castle (which, albeit her own also in right of her lady mother, seems too strange and too grand for happiness,) and all for the purpose of being wedded to this young lord, with his costly glittering gifts, who hath never vouchsafed to come near her until now, on the very eve of the bridal, when it hath pleased him to give notice of his approach. Holy St. Agatha defend me from such a wooer! A wooer, whose actions show, as plainly as words could tell, that he seeketh the Lady Edith's broad lands, and careth as little for the Lady Edith's warm heart, as I do for a withered rose-leaf. I'll tell thee what, Mabel, I never look to see such happy days' again, as when we dwelt in our old dear home, amongst the pleasant vales and breezy mountains of Cumberland. There was health and freedom in the very air. Dost thou not remember the day when old Geoffrey the falconer had lamed himself among the rocks, and the youth Albert, the travelling minstrel, took charge of the hawks, and waited on my lady, as if he had been trained to the sport all his life long! Hast thou forgot how she stood by the lake, with her favourite merlin on her wrist, and her white greyhound Lily-bell at her side, looking like the very goddess of the chase, so full of life and spirit, and cheeriness? And that bright evening when she led the dance round the May-pole? Well-a-day, poor lady! 'tis a woful change!" It was remarkable that the Lady Edith's attention, which neither the louder speech of her elder attendants, nor the ringing tones of the harper, had been able to command, was arrested at once by the soft low voice of Alice. The womanly sympathy sank soothingly into the woman's heart, just as the gentle rain from heaven penetrates the parched hill-side, from whose arid surface the sharp and arrowy hail rebounds without impression. The drooping mistress listened in mournful silence, whilst her faithful maiden, unconscious that she had attracted her notice, pursued, in still lower accents, the train of thought which her own fond recollections of the freedom and happiness which they had tasted among their native mountains had awakened in her mind. "Poor Albert, too! the wandering minstrel, who came to the castle gate to crave lodging for one night, and sojourned with us for three long months; and then, when he had wrought himself up to go,-and, verily, it was a parting like that of the spirit and the flesh, when he left our old walls,—returned again and again, and finally fixed himself in the fisherman's cottage, where the mountain streamlet, after meandering along the meadow, falls into the lake. Poor Albert! I warrant me he taketh good care of Lily-bell and my lady's merlin, whereof he craved the charge from old Geoffrey. I marvel whether my lady knoweth that her pretty Lily-bell and her favourite falcon be in hands that will tend them so faithfully, for her dear sake! To my fancy, Mabel, that poor youth, albeit so fearful and so ashamed in her presence, worshipped the very ground that she trod upon. I have seen him kiss Lily-bell's glossy head, after her hand had patted it, reverently and devoutly, as though it had been a holy relic in the great minster at Durham." Again the full and ringing chords of the harp-but, this time, to an old border air, well known to the northern maids-arose from beneath the casement. The voice, too, was different from that of the courtly minstrel-deeper, manlier, pouring forth the spirit of the words, as they gushed spontaneously, as it seemed, from his lips, as though, in his case, song were but the medium of feeling, and the poet's fancy and the musician's skill buried in the impassioned grief of the despairing lover. So the strain rang: "High o'er the baron's castle tall, Rich banners float with heavy fall; And light and song, in mingling tide, Pour forth, to hail the lovely bride. 66 Yet, lady, still the birchen tree 'Ha!" exclaimed old Margaret; "that ditty hath aroused my lady. See how she listens." ""Tis the roundelay which she herself was wont to sing," observed Mabel; "but the words are different." "Peace! peace!" cried the lady Edith, checking, with some impatience the prattle of her attendants, and leaning against the casement which she flung open, as the deep and earnest voice of the minstrel again resounded through the apartment. "Be silent, I pray ye!” "Mailed warders pace o'er keep and tower; "Alack! alack!" sighed the tender-hearted Alice. deemed that his strange fondness for Lily-bell "Well-a-day, poor youth! I ever albeit as pretty and playful a creature as swift of foot as ever followed hare over the ever gambolled on the green-sward, and as mountains-had a deeper source than love of the good hound. Well-a-day, poor Albert! He was a goodly youth!" 66 Hush! hush!" exclaimed the Lady Edith, as the symphony finished, and the voice again mingled with the chords of the harp, struck falteringly and unsteadily now, as though the hand trembled and the heart waxed faint. "The coronet of jewels rare Shines proudly o'er her face so fair; "Alas! alas! my lady, my dear sweet lady!" murmured Alice to herself, as poor Edith, after lingering at the window long enough to ascertain that the harp was silent, and the harper gone, sank into a seat with a sigh and a look of desolation, that proved, more plainly than words, the truth of the last lines of the minstrel's lay. "Alas! alas! dear lady!" exclaimed she, in a louder tone, as the sudden burst of startling noises, the warlike blasts of trump and cornet, the jarring dissonant sound caused by raising the heavy portcullis, and lowering the massive drawbridge, and the echoing tramp of barbed steeds and mailed horsemen in the courts of the castle, showed that the expected bridegroom had at length arrived. Edith wrung her hands in desperation. "This knight I cannot, and I will not see. Go to him, Margaret; say that I am sickthat I am dying. The blessed saints can bear witness that thou wilt say but the truth in so telling him. Sick at heart am I, sick to the death! Oh that I had died before this wretch-up ed hour!" And poor Edith burst into an agony of tears, that shook her very frame. 66 ing-women, and was echoed by the pretty greyhound, Lily-bell, who had followed the Lord Howard into the room, and now stood trembling with ecstasy before her fair mistress, resting her head in her lap, and looking into her face with eyes beaming with affectionate gladness-eyes that literally glowed with delight. Why goest thou not, Margaret ?" inquired Never was happiness more perfect than that she, a few moments after, when, exhausted by of the betrothed maiden, on this so dreaded its own violence, her grief had become more bridal eve. And heartily did her faithful attranquil. "Why dost thou not carry my mes-tendants sympathise in her happiness; only sage to the Lord Howard? Why dally thus, old dame? Mabel, go thou! They stand about me as though I were an ignorant child, that knew not what she said! Do my bidding on the instant, Mabel: thou wert best!" "Nay, good my lady, but our gracious lord the king-" "Tell me not of kings, maiden! I'll to sanctuary. I'll fly this very night to my aunt, the prioress of St. Mary's. The church knoweth well how to protect her votaries. Woe is me! that, for being born a rich heir, I must be shut from the free breath of heaven, the living waters, and the flowery vales, in the dark and gloomy cloister! To change the locks that float upon the breeze for the dismal veil! To waste my youth in the cold and narrow convent cell-a living tomb! Oh! it is a sad and a weary lot. But better so, than to plight my troth to one whom I have never seen, and can never love! to give my hand to one man, whilst my heart abideth with another." "Lady!" cried Margaret; "do my senses play me false! Or is it Edith Clifford that speaketh thus of a low-born churl?" "A low-born churl!" responded Edith."There is a regality of mind and of spirit about that youth, which needeth neither wealth nor lineage to even him with the greatest-the inborn nobility of virtue and of genius! Never till now knew I that he loved me; and now— Hasten to this lord, Alice; and see that he cometh not hither. Wherefore lingerest thou, maiden?" inquired Edith, of the pitying damsel, who staid her steps with an exclamation of surprise, as the door of the chamber was gently opened. "Tell the Lord Howard the very truth; men say that he is good and wise -too wise, too good, to seek his own happiness at the expense of a poor maiden's misery. Tell him the whole truth, Alice. Spare thy mistress that shame. Say that I love him not -say that I love-' 66 Nay, sweetest lady, from thine own dear lips must come that sweet confession," said a voice at her side, and, turning to the wellknown acents, Edith saw, at her feet, him who, having won her heart as the wandering minstrel, the humble falconer, claimed her hand as the rich and high-born Philip Howard, the favourite of the king. Mabel found it impossible to comprehend why, in the hour of hope and joy, as in that of fear and sorrow, her dearly beloved finery should be neglected. "To think," quoth the provoked bowerwoman, "that now that all these marvels have come about, and that the Lord Howard turns i out to be none other than the youth Albert, my lady will not vouchsafe to tell me whether her kirtle shall be of cloth of gold or cloth of silver; or whether she will don the coronet of rubies or the emerald wreath! Well-a-day!" | quoth Mabel, "this love! this love!" FLORENCE. THE WAGER. "Gone to be married! Gone to swear a peace !" Shakspeare. "LILY on liquid roses floating! So floats yon foam o'er pink champagne. And float away on wine! "Those seas are dangerous (greybeards swear) Who sober cross the Stygian ferry; "Old Charon's self shall make him mellow, That dips itself in wine!"* "So you really wrote this, Giovanni?" said the young and pretty Beatrice Alberti, as she sat upon a terrace of her brother's villa, overlooking the Val d'Arno. Sing it to me. want to hear it in your own voice. tonio play the air?" 66 Can An And the little page ran rapidly over the notes, and then accompanied the conte's rich, *The editor is indebted for this Anacreontic-al most an impromptu-to the kind friend, Mr. Kenyon, (she is proud to name him,) to whom she also owes the Shrine of the Virgin." A cry of joy burst from the astonished wait-stanzas entitled mellow, baritone voice, in a melody as rich, well as in the estimate of his fond sister, reckand flowing as the verses. Both the singing oned amongst the most accomplished cavaliers and the playing were full of right Italian taste; of Florence; and a very short space of time and the fair Florentine, charmed with both the found him passing through the Lung 'Arno, words and the air, was evidently not a little on his way to his splendid home in the Piazza proud of her gay and gallant brother, whose del Granduca, regarding with the indifference talent as a poet she had never even suspected. of an accustomed eye and a pre-occupied mind, "Well," said Giovanni, when he had con- the spacious, yet tranquil town, whose size, cluded, "will this do, Beatrice? Will that compared with its population, and whose forAnacreontic win me the laurel wreath to-night tified palaces are so striking to strangers; as at the Palazzo Riccardi, think you?" well as the magnificent groups in bronze and marble, mere copies of which enrich the museums of other nations, whilst the originals are the familiar and out-door treasures of the city of the Medici. Beatrice started from her seat in astonish ment. "You go to the Palazzo Riccardi! Yon contend for the laurel crown! You, Giovanni Alberti, who, since you were the height of Antonio there, have done nothing but laugh at the old précieuse, the marchesa, with her pedants and her poets, and all the trumpery of all the Della Cruscans transported into a lady's saloon! You are making a fool of me, brother! You never can mean it!" "I am perfectly in earnest, I assure you," replied the conti, looking, or rather trying to look, as grave as an habitually joyous and hilarious temperament would permit. "I have repented of my sins of scoffing and mockery, and mean to make that venerable priestess of the muses all possible amends by enacting the part of her Monsieur Trissotin, her homme d'esprit." "With this great lawsuit pending, too! A suit which, if you gain it, will leave that sweetlooking creature, her daughter (every one speaks so well of that pretty, gentle Bianci), little better than a beggar! Why, it would be like the story of one of the Montechi, in the house of the Capuletti, in times of old. Think of that dismal tragedy! And, then, our uncle, the cardinal, what would he say? Think of him.” "There are no tragedies now-a-days, Beatrice at least none of the Romeo and Giulietta description; they have left off happening and as to our dearly beloved uncle, he is a man of peace, and also with reverence be it spoken a man of contrivance. Leave his eminence to me. Go I shall; and I'll wager the antique gem that you were wishing for the other day, do you remember?-the Psycheagainst your doves, that I bring home the prize. I see," continued he gaily, "that you think my verses too good to please that fantastical assembly; and, perhaps, you are right. But good or bad, they will answer my purpose; and you shall confess yourself that my wager is won." So saying, the light-hearted cavalier nodded to his sister, and departed, carolling as he went, the refrain of his own song, Floating away on wine." Little thought our friend Giovanni, passing them at full speed on his full-blooded barb, of palace or of statue; and as little, some few hours after, when pacing in the twilight the church of Santa Croce, did he heed, even while looking them in the face, the monuments of Galileo, of Machiavelli, or of him who wore so nobly the triple crown of Art-the sculptor, painter, architect, Michael Angelo Buonarotti. His thoughts were on other matters. 66 Ay, there is the good father safe enough until he be wanted, I warrant him," cried he, gazing complacently upon a round, rosy, goodhumoured brother of the order of St. Francis, drowsily ensconced beside a dimly-lighted shrine. "Per Bacco! the Monte Pulciano hath done its good office. Look, if he have not fallen asleep over his beads! And a comfortable nap to thee, Father Paolo! Stay there till I come to rouse thee?" And off danced the mercurial conte, murmuring his old burden, "Floating away, floating away, floating away on wine!" A blue-stocking party loses none of its proverbial dulness in the marble halls of Italy; and the assembly gathered together in the marchesa's magnificent saloon-that is to say, that very important part of such an assembly, the listeners, were roused from a state of drowsihood, scarcely inferior to that of Father Paolo, by the unexpected entrance of the young heir of the Albertì in the palace of the Riccardi. It was a most animating sensation. The appearance of a Montagu amongst the festivities of the Capulets, was nothing to it. The commerce of flattery (for the important busi. ness of the evening had not yet begun) suddenly ceased; and the foundress of these classical amusements, a fade and faded lady, emulous of her of the golden violet, who sat on a fauteuil, slightly elevated, with the laurelwreath on its crimson velvet cushion, laid upon a small table of rich mosaic, before her, Five minutes saw him prancing on his met- and two starched and withered dames of the tled barb, a fiery roan, whose gay curvets and noble houses of Mozzi and Gerini at her side, sudden bounds showed to great advantage his stopped short in the midst of a compliment, noble owner's horsemanship; for the young with which, as in duty bound, she was repayConte Alberti was, by common reputation, asing the adulation of one of the competitors |