MISTRUST, or Blanche and Osbright, A Feudal Romance

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—" Ah ! happy he, who thus in magic themes
O'er worlds bewitched in early rapture dreams,
Where wild Enchantment waves her potent wand,
And Fancy's beauties fill her fairy land."—

Crabbe.

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INSCRIBED TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

Lady Charlotte Maria Campbell.

While stranger-eyes, whene'er her form is seen,
Own her of captive hearts unrivalled Queen ;.
While stranger-ears; catching some passive strain,
The music of her voice through life retain ;
Admired by all, with truth she still may boast,
The few, who know her best, admire her most.

—M. G. LEWIS, London, June 21, 1808.

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Author's Preface:

PREFACE


I AM equally unwilling to take-any merit to my-self, which does not justly belong to me, and to deprive another of that praise, which is his due; but I find it difficult to point out exactly, what portion of the following work is my individual property. Even in those Tales, which are least my own, I have made so many and such important alterations, omissions, and interpolations, that it would have been less trouble to write an entire new work ; but I doubt not, any such work composed by my own unassisted abilities, would have been greatly inferior to the present. In this dilemma, I believe, the best and shortest way will be to request my readers, to ascribe whatever pleases them to the authors of the original Tales, and to lay all the faults at my door. However, what little information I can give respecting this work, shall be laid before the public, and in as few words as possible—


—" MISTRUST"—"

Is of a German origin. In particular, the idea of "Mistrust" was suggested by a Tragedy, from which I have borrowed-a great part of the plot, and one of the most striking scenes: I have also occasionally inserted in my Narrative such speeches as pleased me.

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An excerpt from the beginning of the first chapter:

--"The bird is dead.
That we have made so much on! I had rather
Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty.
To have turned my leaping time into a crutch.
Than have seen this!"
—CYMBELINE.


Peace was concluded, and the waters of the Rhine again flowed through plains unpolluted with blood. The Palatine saw his enemies at his feet; it rested in his own pleasure to trample or to raise them, and the use which he made of the victory proved how well he merited to be victorious. His valor had subdued his enemies; his clemency converted those enemies into friends. The Duke of Saxony, the hereditary foe of his family, had been made his prisoner in the last engagement; he restored him to liberty without ransom or conditions; and he could have framed none so binding as those, which this fearless generosity imposed on the Duke's gratitude.

Henry of Saxony became from that moment his firmest ally; and the Palatine found in his powerful friendship more real strength than if he had surrounded his whole dominions with a triple wall of brass.

The Saxons departed to their own country; the Palatine dismissed his feudatory troops; and their chiefs led back their vassals, loaded with the presents of their liege-lord, and proud of the wounds which they had received in his service. Among these warriors few had displayed more valor than the youthful Osbright of Frankheim; but no sooner was the war concluded than none panted with more impatience for the permission to depart. It was given, and the next hour saw him spring upon his courser; he committed the care of his vassals to a gray-headed knight, in whose prudence he could confide; and then, while his heart swelled high with joy and expectation, he gave his horse the spur, and sped toward his native towers.

But it was not the recollection of those native towers, nor of any one whom his castle-walls contained, which now made his cheeks glow and his eyes blaze with such impatient fire. It was not to embrace his beloved and loving mother; nor to kneel at the feet of his respected father, who held his two sons precious as the two apples of his eyes; nor yet to behold once more his little darling, the young Joscelyn, who looked upon his elder brother as the masterpiece of creation; none of these was the motive, which now hurried Osbright onward: none of these, while the mountains, woods, and wilds were left behind him with inconceivable rapidity, made him wonder at the unaccustomed sluggishness of his courser. No! It was the hope of once more A ruler (count) of the Palatinate, one of two districts in Southwest Germany.

Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony (in Northwest Germany) and Bavaria, died in 1195...beholding the avowed enemy of himself and of his whole house...