ART. IX. The Magic Ring; a Romance; from the German of Frederick Baron de la Motte Fouqué. 3 Vols. Edinburgh, Oliver and Boyd; and Whittaker, London, 1825.

THE

HE present age is remarkable for a tendency to set up reality and use as the standards to determine the value of all things. Even they who guard over the province of fiction have acknowledged the new doctrine. Heroes must now descend from their castles, and pretensions, and mix with the world, and yield obedience to its laws. The privilege, which they used to stand upon, of cutting and maiming and murdering at discretion, would not now be listened to at the Old Bailey; and the slightest approach to the ancient propensities of witchcraft, or star-interpretation, or cauldrons of potential simples, brings on the inevitable visitation of " a jury of their country." At such an era as this, to produce a tale which draws its leading materials from the beings and usages of chivalry, a system so opposed to our experience, that its existence has added another to the suspended questions of historical litigation, is an enterprise that appears in its conception to partake not a little of the nature of the spirit whose operations it professes to represent. But still there is in the performance so much of the grace of minute finishing with occasional brilliancy of colouring, and the general effect is so consistent with all that has been established to be true upon this subject, that the contemplation of the picture inclines us to set off the excellence of the execution against the imprudence of the design.

It is a remarkable feature of these volumes, that they are written in perfect contemporaneous accord with the era in which the relation purports to have had its origin. There is not a single anachronism of sentiment, character, or illustration, to conflict with the even tenor of its antiquarian pretensions. It is indited with all the simple good-will of a legend, of which each principal event is recorded in that tone of conscientious conviction, which is likely to be adopted by one who is not only himself deeply impressed with the truth of his story, but is anxious that it should excite the same lively faith in others. The opening scenes reveal to us some of the principal figures of the romance, and, regarding merely the effect of the details which they embrace, we might not improperly allude to them as delineating an exquisite type of the birth of knighthood. A youth of honourable race, Otto von Trautwangen, living in the retirement of his paternal mansion, on the pleasant banks of the Danube in Suabia, finds his sensibilities affected by some indeterminate notions of glory, and his aspirations are at length directed to that way of life, of whose honourable

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honourable dangers he hears so much in the stirring strains of the family minstrel. At length the splendours of chivalry itself present themselves before him in embodied beauty. A knight in armour, and a lady on a palfrey, with a train of attendant squires and dames, a magnificent pageant, — are seen to approach and pitch their variegated tents over a pleasant plain, where Otto von Trautwangen with his beautiful cousin Bertha was pursuing some pastime of his sequestered and regular life. In the distinguished leaders of this procession we are introduced to Gabrielle of Portamour, the present possessor of the Magic Ring, and Count Archimbald of Waldeck, her voluntary champion, whose prowess is to vindicate her title to the wonderful gem, which not only was endowed with many extraordinary virtues, but decided the ownership of vast inheritances in Normandy. The rival claimant of this ring is the Lady Blanchefleur. The original donor was Sir Huguenin of the North, who was betrothed to a beautiful damsel of France, but afterwards married a still more charming widow of Normandy. The latter, upon her marriage, obtained the Ring from Sir Huguenin, but the former claimed it as virtually her property; and the conflicting demands of the ladies were transmitted to their respective children. Gabrielle was the daughter of the deserted damsel, who was married to the Knight of Portamour, after Sir Huguenin had violated his pledge to her. Blanchefleur was the actual daughter of Sir Huguenin; and the claims which she set up being founded on a superiority of title, were, moreover, occasionally maintained by her courageous brother Sir Folko de Montfaucon. The temporary repose which Gabrielle was enjoying in this pastoral retreat is disturbed by the alarming appearance of Sir Folko, in quest of the inestimable relic, nor does it appear likely to give rise to fewer combats than that ring of sovereign power to restore the freshness of youth, which was bestowed by the fairy Morgana on the favoured Ogier le Danois in the old romance, and the possession of which he asserted against thirty champions whom he defeated in succession. A fearful encounter by torchlight ensues between the champions thus brought together, and terminates in the discomfiture of Sir Archimbald de Waldeck, and the consequent surrender of the Magic Ring by the weeping Gabrielle. Just as the prize is about to be transferred to Sir Folko, the young Otto, who had with burning interest watched the vicissitudes of the combat, advances to challenge the successful champion, who with a glance of rebuke thus meets the rash proposal:

Young squire! young squire! where are your golden spurs? Do you think yourself already qualified to break a lance with knights in the field? Three sword-strokes on the shoulders, and a midnight watch of your armour, then come to me again, and I shall willingly meet you."

Gabrielle, whose distress at her privation might well excuse her indifference to the unprofitable, condolence of Otto, was so desirous of quitting a place which had proved so fatal to her hopes, that she did not hear in her haste the votive exclamation of the youthful hero.

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"So, may Heaven aid me, noble lady, as I shall certainly not rest till I have become a knight, nor till I have laid the Ring at your feet.'

And, happily, he finds the means beneath his parental roof of crowning his ardent aspirations. The ceremonies of the accolade as it is performed by Sir Hugh, the father of Otto, and subsequently the watching of his armour on the vigil of his investiture, borrow a great deal of interest from the manner in which the description of them is wrought.

Otto sank on his knees, and devoutly folded his hands; thus resembling one of those youthful figures, which we find on ancient marble monuments, of warriors untimely slain, with looks of pious simplicity and faith, waiting the hour of their resurrection. Sir Hugh, meanwhile, touched his son's shoulders three times with the heavy blade, saying, "Suffer these blows now from my hand, but never from that of another man!" Then, drawing himself up to his full height, he said with solemn dignity, "Herr von Trautwangen, I have now, in right of my station as knight and banneret, conferred on you the full rank of the sacred order to which I belong. Fulfil your duties henceforth with honour and integrity, for the protection of distressed damsels, widows, and orphans; above all, for the service of our Redeemer and the glory of our holy religion. For the present, rise up, and let us embrace, like friendly comrades and brethren in arms."

The young Knight is then conducted to the chapel by his father: he takes his station sword in hand near the altar before which the squires had already laid down the brightgleaming armour.

Aloft in the chapel-roof there shone, from afar, a single lamp, illuminating in such manner the fine Gothic arches, with their richly-carved branches and foliage, that one might have deemed himself under the shade of a long leafy avenue in a wood, and have looked up through the trees for the clear blue light of heaven. Meanwhile the ground of the chapel (like the earth itself to the weak eyes of mortals) remained, with all its forms and imagery, dim and doubtful. At first the young Knight's

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thoughts were wholly devout and religious. He knelt down with his hands folded over his sword-hilt, and holding up the cross, with which it was surmounted, like a crucifix before him, lifted up his eyes to the richly-fretted and illumined church-roof, reflecting by some natural associations on an event which had left deep impressions on his youthful mind. He remembered that his now sainted mother had died on a journey, without any other shelter than that of the forest-trees. She was no longer able to speak with him, but, with sweet smiles and eyes still intelligent, had pointed to the bright blue vernal sky that was then visible above them. With his mother's death other associations were soon united, till by degrees his attention came back again to his situation at the present moment. It occurred to him, with a feeling of self-reproach, how little he had hitherto thought of the chapel in which he was thus left alone at midnight, and, with a mixed emotion of curiosity and awe, he started up from his place at the altar.

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Of the various forms that were visible along the walls, some projected so far, that, in the play of light and shadow, they almost moved and started into life. Others were only painted on the stone, shadows themselves among the grotesque shades, which, by the lamp-light, were cast from other figures upon them. It seemed as if all this imagery must in some way or another be connected with his father's past life; of which his knowledge was only like that which he had just now acquired of the chapel-walls. There were certain scenes and events clear and intelligible, others only faintly guessed at or imagined, and the plan or connection of the whole lost in dim twilight. was here plainly visible, that there were divers sepulchral monuments, with their sombre adornments, divers trophies formed of ponderous weapons and gigantic armour; for Sir Hugh had been a great conqueror,-had travelled not only in the holy oriental lands, and in the blooming west of Europe, but into the wild regions of the north, where there is far more winter than summer, and where the sun remains for many weeks under the horizon. It might be supposed that from all these distant climes certain spoils or tokens had been brought hither, in order to collect, within the narrow space, proofs how wide and venturous had been the achievements of that ancient knight, whose career was now fast verging to its final close, when he would be confined within far narrower limits than even those of the chapel.'

From these, as well as some passages of a less marked character, it may be concluded, that the story is meant to be connected with an epoch in the progress of the chivalric system, before the union between military habits and religious ceremonies arrived at that state of perfection, of which the institution of the military orders was the offspring and the symbol. The observances so well pictured in the above extracts are yet but a faint outline of the solemn and extended rite with which, in the maturer days of chivalry, the

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honour of knighthood was imposed. The competency of Sir Hugh Trautwangen to confer that distinction likewise fixes an early time for the story, as we find that as chivalry advanced, a number of its fountains of honour were dried up, and that at the period of its meridian the privilege of imparting the dignity of knighthood was engrossed by kings and nobles of the first class.

Sir Otto von Trautwangen, bound on high adventures, now issues forth from the hall of his fathers, in the pride of glorious qualification, rejoicing in his silver armour and weapons that reflect the sun, the animation of his heart harmonising with the beauty of the natural scenes which he beholds through the bars of his vizor, with the music of the morning birds and the carolling of shepherds leading forth their flocks to the pasture. His ambition for combat soon finds an opportunity of gratification in an encounter with a knight in rusty armour, not far from the old free town of Frankfort, on one of the borders of the silver blue waters of the Mayne. In the conflict he becomes victorious, and the vanquished knight Sir Heerdegen von Lichtenried proves to be the brother of Bertha, and, therefore, his own cousin. One of the consequences of this achievement is an immediate contract of alliance with a merchant-cavalier of the name of Theobaldo, the associate of the unsuccessful knight. Whilst with bounding heart and anticipations more brightened than ever, Sir Otto in company with his newly found partner in arms, is journeying towards the gay region of France, Sir Heerdegen repairs in a contrary direction to the castle of Sir Hugh Trautwangen. There, in the intermissions from the pain of his wounds, the warrior-patient pays back the tender solicitude of his sister Bertha, in recitals of pleasing interest. But the impression which survives all the rest in her bosom, is produced by the account of the Lady Minnatrost, or the Druda, and her habitation of preternatural beauty.

In East Friesland,' proceeded Sir Heerdegen, in one of his moments of composure, there is a wondrous castle stationed on a rock, whence there beams, far and wide, a pale tranquil light, the reflection as it were of the moon and stars, whose radiance falls ever brightly and unbroken on these lofty towers. In the castle dwells a female descendant of that ancient race named the Druden. They were powerful wizards and magicians; and such too is this female descendant, with whom we claim relationship; for she is our aunt. Her name is the Lady Minnatrost*, im

*Minne (pronounced minna) is an obsolete word for love, and trost means consolation.'

porting,