3 INTRODUCTION. GENTLE FRIENDS!--We entreat your careful attention to our exposition of the objects of THE NATIONAL. We purpose that it shall most fully justify its title; that it shall indeed be a Library for the People, a Magazine of popular information. We well know how to appreciate the struggles of the Unmonied in their pursuit of knowledge. Our design is—to assist them in their difficulties, to aid the inquirer, to encourage the learner, to cultivate moral and intellectual power,-be it understood that we assert the supremacy of morality, to which the intellect should ever be subservient to disseminate and aid the fructification of Truth, to assist to the uttermost the progression of humanity. Many of the noblest productions of our best writers are sealed books to the People: their scarcity or high price is an effectual bar to their general appreciation. The grandest and profoundest thoughts of our master intellects are as yet utterly unknown to a vast majority of the People. We would remedy this by presenting to them, at a price within the reach of all, choicest gems from the treasure-houses of our best authors, giving to the millions for a sure possession the thoughts and opinions of the noblest spirits of the world, more especially those of our own country, whether of the bygone or of the present time. In addition to these THE NATIONAL will contain original articles in prose and verse-Tales, Essays, Poetry, History, political and theological Criticisms, and Reviews of literature and art. We shall endeavour in all cases to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth: considering no subject above inquiry, nothing too sacred for investigation. We would enlighten the people, we would respond to their feelings and consult their interests, we would assist their inquiries, we would supply their wants, and reason with them on their errors. To the tenderconscienced we would say we wish not to insult or wound your feelings, we acknowledge your illimitable right of opinion as we claim to possess the same right ourselves, and on this principle wherever we see error we shall strive, even for own conscience' sake, persuasively to controvert it, whatever we deem prejudice we shall endeavour to overthrow, though it wear the most antiquated dress, though it should appear in the guise of Divinity. Our political opinions may be briefly yet comprehensively stated:-The equal rights of all, the greatest happiness of the greatest number, and the never-ceasing improvement of humanity. We trust to render THE NATIONAL interesting to the Millions, not only by introducing them to a companionship with the brightest geniuses of the world, not only by filling their homes with the purest and most ennobling delights, the mighty aids and comforts of a beneficent intelligence, but also by our thorough identification with them, the at-present degraded class, in all their hopes and exertions for the attainment of liberty and happiness. Our choice of illustration will be directed by the same desire of advantaging the community, having ever reference to our one great object, moral and intellectual improvement. We are of opinion that to accustom the eye to the study of beauty is one way, and no inconsiderable way, of ennobling and beautifying the mind. "The mind becomes that which it contemplates." We therefore intend that every illustration shall bear the impress of Beauty and convey some useful lesson. Our first number shall not be our best-on the usual principle of samples, but we promise much after-improvement, and hope to make every number better than the one preceding it. We also request contributions from all those who as faithful ministers of Love and Truth seek earnestly for the overthrow of ignorance and poverty by the removal of all monopolies, who dare unflinchingly advocate the full acknowledgment of universal rights, and who are determined to employ their most strenuous and untiring exertions to hasten the consummation of universal morality and happiness. We beg of our readers not to pass over the shortest of our extracts: we promise they shall never be mere make-weights; but often the one line may contain as much wisdom as all the rest of the number. THE MONK OF TINTERN. A TALE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY. It was on a bright autumnal morning that a solitary figure in the habit of the White Friars, or Monks of the Cistercian Order, was rapidly threading his way along the narrow path that skirting the noble eminence on the west bank of the Wye, now known by the name of the Windcliff, was the directest communication between the hamlets of Tintern and Chepstow. The traveller was proceeding towards the latter place. He was a man rather above the middle height, and apparently of slender make; his age might be about thirty; his features were noble and expressive:-his eyes of a rich hazel, deepset and telling of intense feeling, and his mouth slightly compressed, with the subdued and saddened manner of one who habitually represses his thoughts, yet whose mind revolts from the compelled insincerity. A sudden turn brought him from among the trees, which for great part of the way completely shrouded the narrow path, to the very edge of the cliff, giving him an extensive and uninterrupted view across the Wye and Severn over the rich county of Gloucester. Behind him rose abruptly to the height of some two or three hundred feet the thickly-wooded cliff, before him descending less precipitously to the river's edge. The Monk stood, and gazed upon the scene for some time in silence, but his eyes were moist and his breast heaved tumultuously. At length his words broke passionately forth-" O God! how long shall this beautiful land be the prey of the spoiler? How long shall the native owner be the slave of the alien and the oppressor, a bondman in the place of his birth, tilling with the toil of his villanage his own inheritance to pamper the pride and luxury of the robber tyrant? How long must the Saxon remain the serf"-He paused suddenly and looked anxiously around, as if fearful of being overheard: then, dashing away the tear that trembled upon his eyelid, he continued his course, melancholy and in silence. Chepstow was soon reached, and another hour's walk brought him to the ferry where he might cross the Severn into Gloucestershire. From the opposite bank it was yet far to the little village of Thornbury, whither he was bound; and it was considerably past noon when the Monk halted at the door of a small cottage belonging to one of the peasants then known by the appellation of villeins. After the Conquest of England, by the Normans, the far greater part of the Saxon population became the bondmen of their conquerors. They were either attached to the soil or to the person: the former class being like the fixtures of a freehold, their persons and goods belonging to the estate; and the latter being the personal property of their lord. Neither of these classes were permitted to leave the lands of their owner; and on flight or settlement elsewhere could be pursued and reclaimed. The villeins--for this was their legal name might not marry against the will of their lord; and a bondwoman, who became free by marrying a freeman, returned to bondage on the death of her husband. A fine was also paid on their marriage. "Peace be with all here!" said the Monk, entering the cottage. He was welcomed by its only inmate, a fair girl whose deep blue eyes were dim with recent tears. "You have been unsuccessful in your suit:" he added, observing her agitation. "Father, I have," replied the girl-" The Baron will not listen to me, and commands that I shall marry Fitzallan." "It may not, it shall not be!" exclaimed the Monk-" Fear not, Edith! this tyranny shall be prevented: I will see the Lord De Bracy: he will not compel this unnatural union." "It is too late, Father! the Baron refuses to hear any intercession, and has sworn that he will himself witness the wedding of his squire, no later than to-morrow." "To-morrow?" hastily repeated the Monk. "Even to-morrow, Father!-I have no hope but in you." "Where is Harold?" "He will be here anon." There was a pause; and the Monk paced rapidly to and fro in the little room, with knit brows and set teeth, like one who resolves upon a fearful venture, till his reverie was disturbed by the entrance of Harold, the accepted lover of Edith. After a brief parley the Father departed, leaving the lovers together. The next morning there was a goodly assemblage in the Castle Chapel, though it was but to witness the marriage of a squire and bondwoman, and though such unequal matches were as far as possible discouraged: but the Baron was willing to grace his favourite, at the same time rendering honour to his own obstinacy. Death-pale and shrinking with fear, the maiden was rather dragged than led to the altar. Her evident reluctance was all unnoticed by the Baron's subservient chaplain. She had not time however to ascend the steps, when a deep-toned and stern voice exclaimed, "I forbid this marriage!" and stepping forth from the crowd of retainers whom curiosity had drawn to witness the ceremony, the Monk of Tintern stood between Fitzallan and the maiden. "Lord De Bracy, in the name of that God who joineth not those whom Love hath not brought together, I forbid this union of the unloving!" "Insolent Priest!" fiercely exclaimed De Bracy-"how darest thou to interfere to thwart my will-to stand between the serf and his master?" "Proud man!" calmly replied the Monk, though his eyes flashed indignantly "I stand between the oppressed and the oppressor. Thou hast no authority over the soul of the bond. Thou canst not make this maiden to love yonder man; nor may the Church unite those who hate. Hear me, Lord De Bracy!"-as the Baron attempted to interrupt him-"Thou hast no right to oppress thy fellow-man, serf though he be: nor hast thou any right to enslave thy fellow. God hath made of one blood all nations of men to dwell together upon the face of the earth. He made not some to be lords and some slaves, but He hath declared that he who loveth not his brother is a murderer." Expel this foul-mouthed shaveling,"-shouted the furious lord-" and proceed with the ceremony!" 66 Oppressor and injurer of thy brethren, this marriage shall not proceed! Answer me not!-In the name of our holy Church I say, it shall not proceed!" He took the hand of Edith, and leading her forward added, "She is already married: whom God hath joined man cannot sunder!"-then with a calm mien and commanding look passed through the opening crowd and left the chapel with the maiden, none daring to obey De Bracy's orders to intercept them. Infuriated at this defeat, the Baron immediately commanded the imprisonment of Harold and that his cottage should be razed to the ground: but on the return of Fitzallan to the castle with his prisoner, he was attacked by the bondmen, excited by the eloquent denunciations of the Monk, and Harold was rescued. "And now, my Son, whither goest thou?" said the Monk to Harold as the young man knelt for his blessing: "To Sherwood Forest, Father!-Edith shall be an outlaw's wife: but better an outlaw than a slave. Will you absolve me, Father?" "I may not blame thee, my Son! Better to be a denizen of the wild woods than to crawl upon the desert paths of tyranny: but keep thy hand from wrong; and know that evil may not justify revenge!-but you will hardly reach Sherwood before the hue and cry." "I do not fear-Leigh Woods will be safe covert for a while; and friends are there who hate the yoke of the stranger and will assist us. But there is danger for you too :-Will you not escape with us? We shall lead a merry life in the green-wood; and no evil shall come nigh you there." "It may not be :" said the Monk firmly-" Bless you, my children! In the hour of your happiness think sometimes of me!"-He turned hastily away, and bent his steps toward the Abbey. Scarcely was he within the walls when he received a summons to attend the Abbot. "Whence comest thou?" inquired the Abbot, as with a collected look and calm demeanour the Monk stood before him. "From Thornbury, my Lord!" "And what good service has so long detained you there?" "I have defended the lamb from the ravening wolf: I have maintained the sacredness of the priestly character." "Unworthy Son of the Church! is it the office of thy ministry to sow dissensions between the rulers and the people?" "My lord! I deemed it my duty to protect the injured." "And in so doing you have attacked the civil power: You have brought the church into ill odour by your pernicious doctrines of the equality of the gentle and the base-born. Retire to your cell! Seven days are given you to repent of your errors: if they are not then renounced—” "Spare the threat, my lord!" replied the Monk with dignity yet emotion"I know that my days are numbered: but neither menaces, nor punishment, nor bribes shall tempt me to betray my conscience. I have taught that which Holy Scripture teaches-I have taught the equality of man: I have taught men to love rather than to hate:-and even hereafter I cannot teach otherwise. I may not obey man rather than God. O, beware how ye sell the Church's good name, beware how ye stay her advocacy of the cause of the feeble and the wronged, for the sake of temporal power and possession! Surely if ye sell impunity to wrong, ye yourselves shall suffer injury. Ay, the time is coming wherein the Church must take a decided part, as the friend of the high-born tyrant or of the base-born slave! Beware how ye prefer wealth to justice: for in the day that ye desert the people will ye lose your influence with the people: ye will become the prey of the princely spoiler; and in the day of the people's redemption ye shall be forgotten!" From that hour the Monk was no more seen. Repeated inquiries were made by Harold, but no tidings of the father could be obtained. It was many years after the dissolution of the Monasteries by the rapacious power of the eighth Henry, that in the vaults of Tintern Abbey was discovered the skeleton of a man of rather more than the middle height. It stood bowed against a niche in the wall, the front of which had been built up; and a broken pitcher was at its feet. It was the Monk of Tintern. THE ENTHUSIAST. ONE-whose strong hope had foiled the tyranny Seeking the Beautiful-after long years Did penetrate unto Life's sanctuary; Lifted the veil which the Mysterious wears; And looked on-the Ubiquious Misery.— Among the revellers a silent One, A pilgrim wandered through the world, alone, The iteration of a plaintive moan. 2. THE STORY OF MARGARET. "Many a passenger "I speak," continued he, "of One whose stock Keenly industrious. She with pride would tell Ere the last star had vanished. They who passed Had failed, and every leaf and flower were lost Not twenty years ago, but you I think I, with my freight of winter raiment, saw And their place knew them not. Meanwhile, abridged To numerous self-denials, Margaret Went struggling on through those calamitous years With cheerful hope, until the second autumn, When her life's Helpmate on a sick-bed lay, Smitten with perilous fever. In disease He lingered long; and when his strength returned, |