rtayning. With an account of the grete Turney there
held in the year MCCLVI. Changed out of the Norman tongue by Grymbald,
Monk of Senct Marie Priori in Killingworth." Chatterton's forgeries had
by this time familiarized the public with imitations of early English.
The finder of this manuscript pretends to publish a modernized version of
it, while endeavoring "to preserve somewhat of the air of the old style."
This he does by a poor reproduction, not of thirteenth-century, but of
sixteenth-century English, consisting chiefly in inversions of phrase and
the occasional use of a _certes_ or _naithless_. Two words in particular
seem to have struck Mrs. Radcliffe as most excellent archaisms: _ychon_
and _his-self_, which she introduces at every turn.

"Gaston de Blondville," then, is a tale of the time of Henry III. The
king himself is a leading figure and so is Prince Edward. Other
historical personages are brought in, such as Simon de Montfort and Marie
de France, but little use is made of them. The book is not indeed, in
any sense, an historical novel like Scott's "Kenilworth," the scene of
which is the same, and which was published in 1821, five years before
Mrs. Radcliffe's. The story is entirely fictitious. What differences it
from her other romances is the conscious attempt to portray feudal
manners. There are elaborate descriptions of costumes, upholstery,
architecture, heraldic bearings, ancient military array, a tournament, a
royal hunt, a feast in the great hall at Kenilworth, a visit of state to
Warwick Castle, and the session of a baronial court. The ceremony of the
"voide," when the king took his spiced cup, is rehearsed with a painful
accumulation of particulars. For all this she consulted Leland's
"Collectanea," Warton's "History of English Poetry," the "Household Book
of Edward IV.," Pegge's "Dissertation on the Obsolete Office of Esquire
of the King's Body," the publications of the Society of Antiquaries and
similar authorities, with results that are infinitely tedious. Walter
Scott's archaeology is not always correct, nor his learning always
lightly borne; but, upon the whole, he had the art to make his cumbrous
materials contributory to his story rather than obstructive of it.

In these two novels we meet again all the familiar apparatus of secret
trap-doors, sliding panels, spiral staircases in the thickness of the
walls, subterranean vaults conducting to a neighboring priory or a cavern
in