The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon
year, with which he ushers in the lady of his heart. It is this scene,
in particular, which throws all the magic of romance about the old
castle keep. He had risen, he says, at daybreak, according to custom, to
escape from the dreary meditations of a sleepless pillow. “Bewailing in
his chamber thus alone,” despairing of all joy and remedy, “for, tired
of thought, and woe-begone,” he had wandered to the window to indulge
the captive’s miserable solace, of gazing wistfully upon the world from
which he is excluded. The window looked forth upon a small garden which
lay at the foot of the tower. It was a quiet, sheltered spot, adorned
with arbors and green alleys, and protected from the passing gaze by
trees and hawthorn hedges.
Now was there made fast by the tower’s wall,
A garden faire, and in the corners set
An arbour green with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with leaves beset
Was all the place and hawthorn hedges knet,
That lyf* was none, walkyng there forbye,
That might within scarce any wight espye.
So thick the branches and the leves grene,
Beshaded all the alleys that there were,
And midst of every arbour might be seen,
The sharpe, grene, swete juniper,
Growing so fair with branches here and there,
That as it seemed to a lyf without,
The boughs did spread the arbour all about.
And on the small grene twistis+ set
The lytel swete nightingales, and sung
So loud and clear, the hymnis consecrate
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among,
That all the garden and the wallis rung
Right of their song----
* Lyf, Person.
+ Twistis, small boughs or twigs. NOTE--The language of the
quotations is generally modernized.
It was the month of May, when every thing was in bloom, and he
interprets the song of the nightingale into the language of his
enamoured feeling:
Worship, all ye that lovers be, this May;
For of your bliss the kalends are begun,
And sing with us, Away, winter, away.
Come, summer, come, the sweet season and sun.
As he gazes on the scene, and listens to the notes of the birds, he
gradually relapses into one of those tender and undefinable reveries,
which fill the youthful bosom in this delicious season. He wonders what
this love may be of which he has so often read, and which thus seems
breathed forth in the quickening breath of May, and melting all nature
into ecstasy and song. If it really be so great a felicity, and if it be
a boon thus generally dispensed to the most insignificant beings, why is
he alone cut off from its enjoyments?
Oft would I think, O Lord, what may this be,
That love is of such noble myght and kynde?
Loving his folke, and such prosperitee,
Is it of him, as we in books do find;
May he oure hertes setten* and unbynd:
Hath he upon oure hertes such maistrye?
Or is all this but feynit fantasye?
For giff he be of so grete excellence
That he of every wight hath care and charge,
What have I gilt+ to him, or done offense,
That I am thral’d, and birdis go at large?
* Setten, incline.
+ Gilt, what injury have I done, etc.
In the midst of his musing, as he casts his eye downward, he beholds
“the fairest and the freshest young floure” that ever he had seen. It is
the lovely Lady Jane, walking in the garden to enjoy the beauty of that
“fresh May morrowe.” Breaking thus suddenly upon his sight in a moment
of loneliness and excited susceptibility, she at once captivates the
fancy of the romantic prince, and becomes the object of his wandering
wishes, the sovereign of his ideal world.
There is, in this charming scene, an evident resemblance to the early
part of Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale, where Palamon and Arcite fall in
love with Emilia, whom they see walking in the garden of their prison.
Perhaps the similarity of the actual fact to the incident which he had
read in Chaucer may have induced James to dwell on it in his poem. His
description of the Lady Jane is given in the picturesque and minute
manner of his master, and, being doubtless taken from the life, is a
perfect portrait of a beauty of that day. He dwells with the fondness
of a lover on every article of her apparel, from the net of pearl,
splendent with emeralds and sapphires, that confined her golden hair,
even to the “goodly chaine of small orfeverye” * about her neck, whereby
there hung a ruby in shape of a heart, that seemed, he says, like a
spark of fire burning upon her white bosom. Her dress of white
tissue was looped up to enable her to walk with more freedom. She was
accompanied by two female attendants, and about her sported a little
hound decorated with bells, probably the small Italian hound of
exquisite symmetry which was a parlor favorite and pet among the
fashionable dames of ancient times. James closes his description by a
burst of general eulogium:
In her was youth, beauty, with humble port,
Bounty, richesse, and womanly feature:
God better knows than my pen can report,
Wisdom, largesse,+ estate,++ and cunning& sure.
In every point so guided her measure,
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance,
That nature might no more her child advance.
* Wrought gold.
+ Largesse, bounty.
++ Estate, dignity.
& Cunning, discretion.
The departure of the Lady Jane from the garden puts an end to this
transient riot of the heart. With her departs the amorous illusion
that had shed a temporary charm over the scene of his captivity, and he
relapses into loneliness, now rendered tenfold more intolerable by this
passing beam of unattainable beauty. Through the long and weary day he
repines at his unhappy lot, and when evening approaches, and Phoebus,
as he beautifully expresses it, had “bade farewell to every leaf and
flower,” he still lingers at the window, and, laying his head upon the
cold stone, gives vent to a mingled flow of love and sorrow, until,
gradually lulled by the mute melancholy of the twilight hour, he lapses,
“half-sleeping, half swoon,” into a vision, which occupies the remainder
of the poem, and in which is allegorically shadowed out the history of
his passion.
When he wakes from his trance, he rises from his stony pillow, and,
pacing his apartment, full of dreary reflections, questions his spirit,
whither it has been wandering; whether, indeed, all that has
passed before his dreaming fancy has been conjured up by preceding
circumstances, or whether it is a vision intended to comfort and assure
him in his despondency. If the latter, he prays that some token may be
sent to confirm the promise of happier days, given him in his slumbers.
Suddenly, a turtledove of the purest whiteness comes flying in at the
window, and alights upon his hand, bearing in her bill a branch of red
gilliflower, on the leaves of which is written, in letters of gold, the
following sentence:
Awake! Awake! I bring, lover, I bring
The newis glad, that blissful is and sure
Of thy comfort; now laugh, and play, and sing,
For in the heaven decretit is thy cure.
He receives the branch with mingled hope and dread; reads it with
rapture; and this he says was the first token of his succeeding
happiness. Whether this is a mere poetic fiction, or whether the Lady
Jane did actually send him a token of her favor in this romantic way,
remains to be determined according to the fate or fancy of the reader.
He concludes his poem by intimating that the promise conveyed in the
vision and by the flower, is fulfilled by his being restored to liberty,
and made happy in the possession of the sovereign of his heart.
Such is the poetical account given by James of his love adventures
in Windsor Castle. How much of it is absolute fact, and how much the
embellishment of fancy, it is fruitless to conjecture; let us not,
however, reject every romantic incident as incompatible with real life,
but let us sometimes take a poet at his word. I have noticed merely
those parts of the poem immediately connected with the tower, and have
passed over a large part which was in the allegorical vein, so
much cultivated at that day. The language, of course, is quaint and
antiquated, so that the beauty of many of its golden phrases will
scarcely be perceived at the present day, but it is impossible not to
be charmed with the genuine sentiment, the delightful artlessness and
urbanity, which prevail throughout it. The descriptions of Nature too,
with which it is embellished, are given with a truth, a discrimination,
and a freshness, worthy of the most cultivated periods of the art.
As an amatory poem, it is edifying, in these days of coarser thinking,
to notice the nature, refinement, and exquisite delicacy which
pervade it; banishing every gross thought, or immodest expression, and
presenting female loveliness, clothed in all its chivalrous attributes
of almost supernatural purity and grace.
James flourished nearly about the time of Chaucer and Gower, and was
evidently an admirer and studier of their writings. Indeed, in one of
his stanzas he acknowledges them as his masters; and in some parts
of his poem we find traces of similarity to their productions, more
especially to those of Chaucer. There are always, however, general
features of resemblance in the works of contemporary authors, which are
not so much borrowed from each other as from the times. Writers, like
bees, toll their sweets in the wide world; they incorporate with their
own conceptions, the anecdotes and thoughts current in society; and thus
each generation has some features in common, characteristic of the age
in which it lives.
James belongs to one of the most brilliant eras of our literary history,
and establishes the claims of his country to a participation in
its primitive honors. Whilst a small cluster of English writers are
constantly cited as the fathers of our verse, the name of their
great Scottish compeer is apt to be passed over in silence; but he
is evidently worthy of being enrolled in that little constellation of
remote but never-failing luminaries who shine in the highest firmament
of literature, and who, like morning stars, sang together at the bright
dawning of British poesy.
Such of my readers as may not be familiar with Scottish history (though
the manner in which it has of late been woven with captivating fiction
has made it a universal study) may be curious to learn something of the
subsequent history of James and the fortunes of his love. His passion
for the Lady Jane, as it was the solace of his captivity, so it
facilitated his release, it being imagined by the Court that a
connection with the blood-royal of England would attach him to its own
interests. He was ultimately restored to his liberty and crown, having
previously espoused the Lady Jane, who accompanied him to Scotland, and
made him a most tender and devoted wife.
He found his kingdom in great confusion, the feudal chieftains
having taken advantage of the troubles and irregularities of a long
interregnum, to strengthen themselves in their possessions, and place
themselves above the power of the laws. James sought to found the basis
of his power in the affections of his people. He attached the lower
orders to him by the reformation of abuses, the temperate and equable
administration of justice, the encouragement of the arts of peace, and
the promotion of every thing that could diffuse comfort, competency,
and innocent enjoyment through the humblest ranks of society. He
mingled occasionally among the common people in disguise; visited
their firesides; entered into their cares, their pursuits, and their