MR. M`CARTIIT ' S FREE LANCE. • Tars new romance of Mr.
111`CARTHT exhibits the same merits and defects as his Masaniello, with some considerable improvement, especially in the general composition,—using the word in the painter's sense, rather than limiting it to diction. In The Free Lance he has plunged more directly in medias res ; so that the attention of the reader is at once excited, in lieu of dragging slowly through a long descriptive introduction. He has exhibited as much force of delineation with less of straining after effect, though quite enough of the ars scribendi or writer's artifice is still visible; and time has given a more mature air both to his historical reading and the treatment of his romance. On the other band, history and archwology are too much mixed up with the story, impeding the action and delaying if not puzzling the reader. The true per- sons of the romance are too often put aside for descriptions of the Florentine constitution, a narrative of municipal quarrels, and the introduction of celebrated men. Indeed, there are, strictly speak- ing, two stories in The Free Lance ; one belonging to love and romance, the other displaying the factions of Florence; a pair of characters serving to form a species of link to unite the two actions together. Hence, contrary to the usual practice, the story rather flags as it proceeds.
A defect which is less amenable to critical remedy also re- mains, as existent if not quite as palpable. Mr. INPCARTHT'S imagination, though vigorous, is rather rhetorical than dramatic ; so that, while the forms of his work are of the fourteenth century, the mind is of the nineteenth. A consistent conduct is often assigned to the persons, and their views are perhaps correctly depicted ; but it is by Mr. M'CARTIIT'S speculations, not their own natural development, even when in discourse. The Free Lance, in short, is a striking romance, powerful in its diction and varied in its in- cidents, with much of historical knowledge cleverly turued to ac- count, though not conveying a very accurate idea of history ; but it is not entitled to a place in the first rank of historical fictions.
The scene of The Free Lance is Italy during the fourteenth century, at a time when Milan under Barnabas Visconti, and Florence in despite of her intestine commotions, were the two lead- ing territorial powers. The historical portion of the work con- sists of the disputes and politics of these two powers, with the wars and ravages of the English company under the command of the celebrated adventurer John Haakewood. The principal romantic interest arises from the love and adventures of Reginald, a younger son of the Earl of Oxford; who, having quarrelled with his father, sets out for Italy to join Ilawkewood, a born retainer of his house,—the young nobleman little thinking of the Italian eminence which that adventurer had attained. During his journey to join Hawkewood's camp, Reginald falls in with the family of an Italian noble, and protects his females : a passion of course arises ; which is crossed by the father Buondelmonte's hatred to the English, and his design of marrying his daughter Constancia to a son of Barnabas Visconti. Hence troubles ; which are further thickened by the unreturned attachment of Margherita, a con- fidential attendant of Constancia, for Reginald, and the hopeless love of a Florentine noble for Margherita. Besides these elements of difficulty, other troubles arise from sack and massacre, Florentine conspiracies, civic rivalries, and aristocratical hatred; though some of these have but a slender relation to the loves of Reginald and Constancia.
The country and time in which the narrative is placed were not particularly distinguished for heroic virtue; and this should have been obviated by sinking the harsher and more revolting features of the condottieri, if the hero was to become one. This Mr. M'Caa- Tax has omitted to do, but rather dwells with detail upon some of the more atrocious cruelties of the age; and though Reginald does not behave like one of those infamous ruffians, he is truly enough described as hardened by the atrocities constantly around him. This is natural, but unpleasing when connected with the character of a lover and hero of romance : and the consequence is that little in- terest is excited in the fortunes of the persons. In fact, the reader rather expects the death of the whole.
We have spoken of the power of vigorous delineation possessed
by Mr..M'Cartzur. ; and this faculty renders his descriptive pas- sages and pictures of single incidents the most striking parts of the book. Here' is a scene combining both. The reader will readily imagine that Buondeltnonte and his family as well as Reginald and his retainers have fallen into the power of one of Hawkewood's bands, whilst the noble was journeying to Florence under the pro- tection of the Englishman and his personal followers.
THE CAMP OF THE WHITE COMPANY.
In a straight line before their path, and scarcely a mile distant, there rose up a detached and gentle eminence: it was a severed link of the vast chain of Apennines, and sufficiently remote from other hills to secure to its possessor the command of the neighbouring country, and an immunity from surprise. Reginald was aware that he was approaching the head-quarters of the renowned Hawkewood and his far-famed White Company of English Lances; and he was not surprised that such a spot had been chosen for his position: but, though prepared by rumour to find the forces of that extraordinary man greatly more numerous than were private companies usually, his astonishment was un- bounded when he contemplated the spectacle which now met his eyes. On one of the most elevated ridges of the hill before }aim were spread out hundreds of tents, far more like the settlement of a regular army than the wandering rest- ing-place of a handful of men Which he had expected to find. Winding up- wards from every direction towards this elevated centre, he perceived various small bodies of men, who in every instance drove scores of cattle of all sorts before them; and in many instances, mingled promiscuously with sheep, and goats, and oxen, were droves of men and women, with only such coverings to screen age from cold and young bosoms and delicate limbs from shame and in- jury, as had been at hand when the shouts of the midnight prowler startled them from their slumbers.
Varying the picture of these revolting yet glittering cavalcades, the head- quarters presented a busy and interesting spectacle. The morning sun was fast rising ; his orb had overtopped the hill on which was the encampment, and his bright rays, gleaming through a clear atmosphere, rendered distinct every detail of that scene of busy life. Some few men had their armour already on their limbs, and seemed busied in attending to the many cares of a waking camp.
Reginald was struck by the singular appearance of vast numbers of young boys who had the more burdensome duties of the tents to attend to; horses and armour seemed under their sole care, while the seniors of the camp re- viewed and separated the booty which was each minute arriving. One single banner among all this multitude of tents was visible, and it served to point out to the inquiring glance of Reginald the quarters of the captain of the White Company. Could he have turned his mind from the lot of the captives, the scene was one well calculated to excite the interest of a young and ardent soldier ; but he was too recent a recruit to witness all the atrocities that caught his eye without a feeling of disgust. He endeavoured vainly to distinguish among the crowds before him either his own pennon, or, what at the time had even more interest for him, the unfortunate females of the family of Buon- delmonte, thus brought among scenes so repulsive. Be had at length reached the busy platform in which so varied a mingling of the cares, cruelties, and pumps of human life was manifest ; and he then at last perceived that his companions of the previous evening had arrived before him. A quick anxious glance readily convinced him that the aged noble, and one AS least of the females, were allowed to stand unmolested apart from the throng of assembled prisoners, as if awaiting the result of another's pleasure respecting them. The old man was deprived of all offensive weapons, and he retained his seat motionless in his saddle, mith his visor covering his features, and hiding from the world the nearly frenzied feelings which agitated them. Reginald had paused in doubt whether or not to approach him, when his at- tention was attracted by a scene which was, alas! too common among thole tents to excite aught save the brutal jests and dissolute mirth of men in whom decency and pity were utterly extinct. A horse riderless, and which Reginald had noticed as previously carrying the young attendant of the daughter of Buondelmonte, dashed furiously past the group in which the Lady Constancia was standing : the quick eye of Reginald was the first to discover the MUM At no great distance he beheld one of the soldiers of that lawless company with a fair and powerless prize borne aloft in his arms ; her riding-cap had in her struggles fallen from her head, the band that bound up her hair was broken, and its long tresses fell over her shoulders, covering the arm that held her: her screams rent the air, and her face, as she turned it in her struggles towards Buondelmonte, had an expression like that of coming death. Her efforts were nearly exhausted, her captor was rapidly bearing her to the nearest tent, when her glance recognized the horse and armour of Reginald. Her exclamation at that moment was so startling and awful, that the blood of the youth curdled in his veins. The next instant his horse had bounded from the spur, and vanished from the side of his late guide. So headlong was the career to which Reginald urged his charger, that the astonished spectators, to whom the idea of rescue had never occurred, imagined that both the maiden and her captor must have been trampled beneath his hoofs. A. shout of warning allowed the soldier time to fling the maiden from him ; but it allowed no more—before he could raise a weapon, the heavy lance of Reginald struck him in the very centre of his cuirass : the metal was crushed into fragments, and the man whirled to the earth.
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