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Online text of The Lances of Lynwood
Publication
details, summary and further reading for The
Lances of Lynwood (Text
kindly supplied by Amy de Gruchy) Publication January1853
December 1854, serialised in , editor C.M.Yonge,
publishers John and Charles Mozley 1855
book published by Parker and Son, price seven
shillings and sixpence. Numerous later
editions. First editions well printed
on good paper with illustrations. Presumably
aimed at same class of reader as The Little
Duke but slightly higher age range. ContentsThe
story is set in the reign of Edward III. The
hero, Eustace Lynwood accompanies his elder
brother and his troop, the Lances of Lynwood,
to France, and with them joins the Black Prince
in his expedition to Spain. There Eustace
distinguishes himself, is knighted, and on
the death of his brother in battle becomes
the leader of the troop, a difficult post.
When the English army returns to France the
troop is disbanded, and some time later Eustace
returns to England to rescue his brother's
young son, in danger from an enemy of the
family. He takes the boy to the court of the
Black Prince in France, but falls under suspicion
himself. He loses the favour of the Prince,
and is sent to a post of great danger. He
survives the peril and the story ends with
his marriage to the gentle sister of the family
enemy. Eustace is portrayed as quiet,
modest and scholarly, but brave, determined
and above all loyal, a family trait, which
has often cost them dear. He has no faults
needing correction, but has to learn how to
cope with new situations. There is a large
cast of historical figures, well-drawn minor
characters, whose actions affect the hero's
fortunes. There are also a number of fictitious
characters, such as the gallant Gascon squire
and the boorish Somerset one who see, to be
the stock of historical fiction. In
this tale Yonge does not moralize over failings,
but emphasizes a virtue, loyalty, exemplified
in the hero, who remains loyal even when unjustly
treated. Her historical information
was partly drawn from a French chronicle,
but mainly from the history of ,
which she hoped her readers would study for
themselves. The book resembles in that it falls into
two parts, but unlike the latter, the second
part is as interesting as the first, though
lacking the historical inevitability found
In the earlier tale. The book has one
addition to the serial, a Gascon legend. It
also has numerous stylistic alterations.
Further ReadingFor
contemporary reviews see L. Madden, J.B.
Shorthouse and C.M. Yonge, unpublished
thesis, University of London Diploma in Librarianship,
1964. For C.M. Yonge's historical fiction: Alice
Fairfax Lucy, 'The other Miss Yonge', in A
Chaplet for Charlotte Yonge. Edited
for The Charlotte Yonge Society by Georgina
Battiscombe and Marghanita Laski. The Cresset
Press, London 1965 L.A. de Gruchy, 'C.M.
Yonge's historical novels - the influence
of Scott', 1837-1901: Journal of the
Loughborough Victorian Studies Group,
no. 5, October 1980, pp. 30-49. L.A.
de Gruchy, The Monthly Packet, unpublished
thesis, University of London, 1986, p. 153
et seq.
From:
The Saturday Review Dec. 8, 1855
p102-3 NUMEROUS as are
the books written specially for the amusement
and instruction of young people, it is impossible
to look over a shelf of them without being
painfully convinced that, for the most part,
they are miserable failures. How childish
- a very different thing from childlike -
are some, how weak and twaddling are others!
How dry and uninteresting those that aim at
cultivating the understanding, how full of
mawkish religious sentimentality and morbid
feeling those that address themselves to the
heart! With what wretched food is the imagination
supplied, how unreal are the stories in which
impossible paragons of perfection serve no
other purpose than to run the risk of exciting
the dislike of healthy-natured children to
goodness itself! That children love the purely
ideal is evident from the delight they take
in fairy tales. But even these would lose
their charm if the opposing principles of
good and evil were not always represented;
and though they will be content that in fairy
natures, which they instinctively feel to
be different from their own, the struggle
between the two principles should not always
take place in the same person, they will never
be satisfied with, take any interest in, or
derive any good from attempted pictures of
real life, unless they can see either the
actual struggle or its fruits exhibited in
every character of the story. Nothing,
in fact, is more difficult than to write a
really good book for the young; and it is
no wonder that it should be so, since it requires
the keen perception and piercing eye of genius
to understand child natures. Without being
able to sympathize with them in all things,
it is in vain to hope either to stir the depths
of their hearts, or to write to the heights
- much more lofty than we are accustomed to
deem them - of their understanding. Who then
is sufficient for these things? A mother in
her peculiar province; and for the rest, genius
alone, for it alone can become all things
to all minds and all seasons of life. Therefore,
when we see men of acknowledged power engaged
in writing for the young, we feel that they
could not better employ the high gifts with
which God has blessed them, whilst we also
regret that so few should think it worth their
while to devote themselves to labours that
are sure to repay them beyond their highest
hopes. Amongst the most admirable books
that have ever been written for children,
we shall not very greatly err in giving the
highest place to those of Sir Walter Scott.
And if we would seek to discover the secret
of the success of his Tales of a Grandfather,
we believe that we should find it mainly to
consist in the tone of chivalry with which
they are imbued. The young are by nature chivalrous,
and it is in the apparent impossibility of
extinguishing this spirit altogether that
our principal hope for future generations
lies. Anything, therefore, that adds fuel
to the flame is most acceptable, and we hail,
with peculiar thankfulness, every attempt
to cherish and increase in their hearts a
feeling so noble, so pure, and so unworldly
- one which, in after life, will be among
the surest safeguards against evil, and the
best incentives to good. For this reason we
cordially welcome The Lances of Lynwood,
which we are sure will be read by the young
(and not by the young alone) with as earnest
an interest and as deep a delight as its predecessor,
the Little Duke, which we have seen
children listening to with half open mouth
and eager eye, and all the signs of interested
and abstracted attention. To give an outline
of the story would be but to destroy the freshness
of its interest for the reader. Suffice it
to say that the scene is laid partly in France
and partly in England, that the characters
belong to one of the most stirring and prosperous
periods of English History - the reign of
Edward III. - and that the hero, young Eustace
Lynwood, although he is almost perfection,
never becomes uninteresting, but from first
to last, through all his trials and difficulties,
has our heartiest sympathy and our most earnest
wishes for his welfare. "Tender and true,
brave and loving, with a spirit as high as
a Paladin's of old, a hand as deft at writing
as a clerk's, and a heart as soft as a woman's,"
we have a right to look for great things from
him, and we are never disappointed. Some
portions of the book - especially that in
which the young Sir Eustace is appointed governor
of the Chateau de Norbelle, which his enemies
have found means of filling with a treacherous
garrison - remind us strongly of Ivanhoe;
and that the author does not suffer by the
comparison will, we think, be evident from
the following quotation, in which the wounded
Sir Eustace is represented as lying on his
pallet, listening to the fight that is going
on outside: Sir Eustace
heard the loud cries of "Montjoie St.
Denis! Clisson!" on the one side, and
the "St. George for Merry England! a
Lynwood!" with which his own party replied;
he heard the thundering of heavy stones, the
rush of combatants, the cries of victory or
defeat. Sometimes his whole being seemed in
the fight; he clenched his teeth, he shouted
his war-cry, tried to raise himself and lift
his powerless arm; then returned again to
the consciousness of his condition, clasped
either the rosary or the crucifix, and turned
his soul to fervent prayer; then again the
strange wild cries without confounded themselves
into one maddening noise on his feverish ear,
or in the confusion of his weakened faculties,
he would, as it were, believe himself to be
his brother dying on the field of Navaretta,
and scarce be able to rouse himself to a feeling
of his own identity. So passed the day,
- and twilight was fast deepening into night,
when the cries, a short time since more furious
than ever, and nearer and more exulting on
the part of the French, at length subsided,
and finally died away; the trampling steps
of the men-at-arms could be heard in the hall
below, and Gaston himself came up with hasty
step, undid his helmet, and, wiping his brow,
threw himself on the ground with his back
against the chest, saying, "Well we have
done our devoir, at any rate!"
This Gaston D'Aubricour, by the way, is one of the best
drawn characters in the story, and it requires but little acquaintance
with the old chronicles of the times to feel how lifelike a portrait it
is. Then there is Leonard Ashton, a type of a lower nature, a spirited
sketch of Bertrand du Guesclin, and a lovely picture of Arthur Lynwood,
Eustace's nephew; and of ladies, we have Arthur's mother and the maiden
of Eustace's love, both perfect of their kind. The local colouring is
never lost sight of, and the language, though removed from quaintness
and not burdened with obsolete words, sufficiently resembles that in use
at the period to be in harmony with the speakers.
We have
but one more remark to make, which is, that
our readers need only pass in review the works
of the author of the Lances of Lynwood
to be convinced of the truth of our axiom
that genius can become all things to all men.
The hand that drew with such delicate refinement
the exquisite portrait of Violet Martindale
is the same that portrayed with such masterly
pencil the Heir of Redclyffe. The pen that
gave us such a beautiful sketch of child-life
in modern days in the Castle Builders,
shows itself equally at home in gone-by times
and amid the most exciting scenes of English
history, as pictured in the story of the Little
Duke and of the Lances of Lynwood;
and difficult indeed we should find it to
decide whether to her domestic cabinet pictures
or to her historical sketches the palm ought
to be assigned.
Our notice of the Lances of Lynwood would scarcely be complete
without some allusion to the illustrations by which it is accompanied.
These strike us as being most masterly and beautiful, full alike of power
and grace. We can scarcely glance at them without being reminded of the
great advance which has been made within the last twenty years in the
illustration of children's books. Formerly, we seem to have thought it
a matter of no consequence how careless, how untrue to nature, how vulgar
and absolutely repulsive, were the pictures with which we disfigured them.
Happily for the present generation, we appear to have at last awakened
to the consciousness that, if we expect the young to have refined tastes,
and to appreciate beauty when they grow up, it is necessary that from
their very earliest years we should set before them examples of the very
highest kinds of beauty, and surround them with things that are really
calculated to delight the eye for ever.
The Lances of Lynwood
by Mrs. Julia C. R. Dorr
in The North American review
Volume 82, Issue 171, April 1856
page 578
Had The Lances of Lynwood been the first of Miss Yonge's novels, it would
have seemed to us a work of singular talent, skill, and promise. But it
falls below the expectations which she herself has authorized. The reason
probably is, that the glow of composition was somewhat chilled, and the
free expression of sentiment checked, by the incessant endeavor to shun
anachronisms. The plot is laid in the days, and to a considerable extent
in the camp, of the Black Prince. The story, though bristling with arms,
glorifies the gentler virtues that redeem, rather than the passions that
govern, epochs of violence and scenes of carnage; and Eustace Lynwood,
the chief personage, the most valiant knight in his princes retinue, in
all meek Christian graces, in the lesser amenities and charities of daily
intercourse, and in what men, to their shame, are wont to designate as
womanly tenderness, yields not even to Yiolet in Heartsease. Yet we cannot
help feeling that the rude and stern exteriors of life in those unsettled
times have constrained and cramped the writers genius, as must his first
suit of armor the limbs of the studious and clerkly youth, her hero.
The North
American review
Volume 82, Issue 171, April 1856: pp 578-9
The Lances of Linwood. By the author of "The
Little Duke," Heartsease," "Heir of Redclyffe," &c..
1. The Lances of Lynwood. By the Author of
The LittleDuke, Heartsease, Heir of Redelyffe,
&c.
New York: ID. Appleton & Co. 1856. 24mo. pp. 277.
2. Rachel Gray: a Tale founded on Fact. By
JULIA KAVANAGH. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1856. 24mo. pp. 308.
3. Lanmere. By Mrs. JULIA C. R. DORR. New
York: Mason Brothers. 1856. 24mo. pp. 447.
WE select these from among the novels received since our last issue,
not because we know that they are the best, but because
we have read them. With regard to all the rest, we are in the condition
so happily free from prejudice, which, according to Sydney Smith, would
qualify us to review them. Had The Lances of Lynwood been
the first of Miss Yonges novels, it would have seemed to us a work
of singular talent, skill, and promise. But it falls below the expectations
which she herself has authorized. The reason probably is, that the glow
of composition was somewhat chilled, and the free expression of sentiment
checked, by the incessant endeavor to shun anachronisms. The plot is laid
in the days, and to a considerable extent in the camp, of the Black Prince.
The story, though bristling with arms, glorifies the gentler virtues that
redeem, rather than the passions that govern, epochs of violence and scenes
of carnage; and Eustace Lynwood, the chief personage, the most valiant
kni ~ht in his princes retinue, in all meek Christian graces, in
the lesser amenities and charities of daily intercourse, and in what men,
to their shame, are wont to designate as womanly tenderness, yields not
even to Yiolet in Heartsease. Yet we cannot help feeling that the rude
and stern exteriors of life in those unsettled times have constrained
and cramped the writers genius, as must his first suit of armor
the limbs of the studious and clerkly youth, her hero.Rachel Gray
reminds us of Pleyels Hymn, which produces the most exquisite melody
by the simplest arrangement of a very few notes on the minor key. Rachel
is an obscure, illiterate, unattractive needlewoman, dull of comprehension
and awkward in speech, living in one of the dingy and decayin~ suhurbs
of London; and the story is the record of the struggles and trials of
her uneventful life, and of like straitnesses and sorrows in the little
circle around her, in which hers is the one queenly spirit, always firm,
brave, and helpful, because her conscious feebleness is supplemented by
the might of religious faith and the unfailing efficacy of prayer. From
these slender materials is constructed a tale of engrossing interest,
and, yet more, a series of grace ful and unohtrusive lessons in the science
of holy living. Is not the power of Christianity so to transfigure and
glorify the lowliest personages and the paltriest incidents one of the
most luculent tokens of its divinity? There must be greatness of station,
circumstance, achievement, wisdom, or culture to constitute the hero or
heroine of Pagan or non-religious fiction, while the Christian literary
artist needs but to wave his wand over the very dust-heaps of humanity
to turn the clods into diamonds.
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