IN his "Diary," under February 19th, 1826, Sir Walter thus writes:
"Being troubled with thick-coming fancies, and a slight palpitation of
the heart, I have been reading the 'Chronicle of the Good Knight Messire
Jacques de Lalain'-curious, but dull, from the constant repetition of
the same species of combats in the same style and phrase. It is like
washing bushels of sand for a grain of gold..... Still, things occur
to one. Something might be made of a tale of chivalry-taken from the
passage of arms, which Jacques de Lalain maintained for the first day of
every month for a twelvemonth..... This would be light summer work." The
suggestion thus obtained Scott did not carry out for some time. In the
autumn of 1830, he commenced the romance of "Count Robert of Paris,"
which was published in November of the following year. During its
composition, he gave decided indications of failing energies; his
penmanship became shaky, and he misplaced words, but the composition
itself presented no trace of decayed intelligence.
In the first illustration is presented the Varangian, or English exile,
asleep at the Golden Gate of Constantinople. While the exile lay wrapped
in sleep, on the stone benches outside the arch of Theodosius, two women
of the humbler class cast their eyes upon him: "Holy Maria!" said one,
"if he does not put me in mind of the Eastern tale, how a genie brought
a gallant young prince from his nuptial chamber in Egypt, and left him
sleeping at the gate of Damascus! I will awake the poor lamb, lest he
catch harm from the night-dew."
"Harm!" replied the older and crosser-looking woman: "ay, such harm as the
cold water of the Cydnus does to the wild swan. A lamb, forsooth! why,
he is a wolf, or a bear, at least a Varangian, and no modest matron
would exchange a word with such an unmannered barbarian."
*****
The sketch of Brenhilda, Agelastes, and Sylvan, is from the pencil of
Mr Cruikshank. Agelastes, after looking with surprise and horror at the
figures in the glass, turned round his head to examine the substance,
which produced so strange a reflection. The object, however, had
disappeared behind the curtain, under which it had probably lain hid;
and, after a minute or two, the half-gibing, half-growling countenance
showed itself again in the same position in the mirror. "By the gods,"
exclaimed the philosopher, "it is Sylvan! that mockery of humanity,
but who shrinks before a philosopher as ignorance before knowledge." So
speaking, he struck the animal a heavy blow; which so enraged him,
that he flew on the man of letters, clasped him round the throat, and
compressed it until life was extinct.
[Illustration: 135]
[Illustration: 136]