Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, No. 341, March, 1844, Vol. 55 by Various

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After the serving men, with some difficulty, had brought in the supper,
consisting of enormous joints of meat, hot and cold, and deposited on the
sideboard vast tankards of strong ale and other potent beverages, Mr
Peeper rose, and folding his hands across his breast, and bending forward
his head with every appearance of devotion, muttered some words evidently
intended to represent a grace; but so indistinct that it was utterly
impossible to make the slightest guess at their meaning, whereupon they
all fell to with prodigious activity, and cut and slashed the enormous
dishes as if they had been famished for a year. Mr Lutter, after making an
observation that true thankfulness was as much shown by moderate enjoyment
of good gifts as by long prayers said over them, made a most powerful
assault on the cold sirloin, and, of all the party, was the only one who
had the politeness to send a helping to Jane. She was tired and hungry,
and felt really obliged by the attention, but could scarcely do justice to
the viands from surprise at the conversation of the guests.

"Ho, ho!" said Sir Bryan de Barreilles, "I once knew a thing--such a thing
it was too--ho! ho!" And partly the vividness of the recollection, and
principally an enormous mouthful of beef, produced a long fit of
coughing--"'twill make you laugh," he continued--"'twas a rare feat--ho!
ho!--even this lady will be pleased to hear it."

Jane bowed in expectation of an amusing anecdote.

"One of my tenants was going to be married; his bride was a very young
creature, not more than eighteen, and on the wedding-day, as I always was
ready for a joke in those days--ah! 'tis thirty years ago, or more--I
asked the bridal party to the Tower. Ho! ho! such laughing we had!--Giles
Mallet and Robin Henslow fought with redhot brands out of the fire, till I
thought we should all have died; and Giles--the cleverest fellow and the
wittiest, ho! ho!--such a fellow was Giles!--he took up the poker instead
of the fir-log, and watched his opportunity, ho! ho!--it was redhot too--a
good stout poker as ever you saw--and ran it clean through his cheek--you
heard the tongue fizz! as it licked the hot iron--'twas a famous play. How
Robin roared, to be sure, and couldn't speak plain--ho! ho! Well, the
games went on; and nothing would please some of the young ones but we
should see the Oubliette. 'Twas a dark hole where my forefathers
imprisoned their refractory vassals, and sad stories were told about
it--how that voices were heard from the bottom of it, and groans, and
sometimes gory heads were seen at the top of it, looking up to the
skylight, and struggling to escape, but ever tumbling back into the deep
dark hole, with screams and smothered cries; a rare place for a man's
enemies--but it had not been used for many years. Well--nothing would do,
but when we were all merry with ale, we should all go and see the
Oubliette, and a kiss of the bride was promised to the one who should go
down the furthest. Now, the stone steps were very narrow at best; and were
all worn away--and that was the best of it--all along the passages we went,
and past the dungeon grating, till we came to the open mouth of the
Oubliette. Ho! ho! how you'll laugh. Down a step went one--no kiss from
the bride for him--two steps went another--some went down six steps, and
one bold fellow went down so far that we lost sight of him in the darkness.
Then the bridegroom, a stout young yeoman--thought it shame to let anyone
beat him in daring, for so rich a prize as a kiss from the rosy lips of
his bride, and down--down--he went--step after step--till finally, far
down in the gloom, we heard a loud scream--such a scream--ho! ho! I can't
help laughing yet when I think of it--and in a minute or two, whose voice
should we hear but Giles Mallet's! _There_ was Giles, hollowing and
roaring for us to send down a rope but _how_ he had got down, or _when_ he
had gone down, nobody knew. However, a rope was got, and merrily, stoutly,
we all pulled, but no Giles came up. Instead of him, we drew forth the
bridegroom! but such a changed man. His eyes were fixed, and his face as
white as silver--his mouth was wide open, and his great tongue went
lolling about from side to side--and he shook his head, and mumbled and
slavered--he was struck all of a sudden into idiocy, and knew nobody; not
even his bride. She was sinking before him, but he never noticed her, but
went moaning, and muttering, and shaking his head. Ho! ho! 'twas the
comicalest thing I ever saw. And when Giles came up he explained it all.
Giles had gone down deeper than any of them, and waited for the others on
a ledge in the cavern; and just when the bridegroom reached it, Giles
seized him by the leg, and said--'Your soul is mine'--ho! ho! 'Your soul
is mine,' said Giles--and the bridegroom uttered only the loud, long
scream we had all heard, and stood and shook and trembled. 'Twas a rare
feat; and if you had come down last year"--he added, turning to Jane--"you
would have seen the bridegroom going from door to door, followed by all
the boys in the village--he never recovered. There he went, shake, shaking
his head--and gape gaping with his mouth. "Twas good sport to teaze him.
I've set my dogs on him myself; but he never took the least notice. 'Twas
a good trick--I never knew better."

"And the bride?" enquired Jane.

"Oh, she died in a week or two after the adventure! A silly hussy--I
wished to marry her, by the left hand, to my forester, but she kept on
moping and looking at the idiotical bridegroom, and died--a poor fool."

"Ah! we've grown dull since those merry times," said Hasket of Norland,
looking, round the empty hall, and then towards Reginald, as if
reproaching him with the absence of the ancient joviality. "There were
three men killed at my marriage--in fair give and take fight--in the hall,
at the wedding supper. There is the mark of blood on the floor yet."

"I lost my eye at the celebration of a christening," said Sir Bryan de
Barreilles. "My uncle of Malmescott pushed it in with the handle of his
dagger."

"I got this wound on my forehead at a feast after a funeral," said Hasket
of Norland. "I quarreled with Morley Poyntz, and he cut my eyebrow with an
axe. 'Twas a merry party in spite of that."

"The Parson of Pynsent jumped on my face at a festival in honour of the
birth of Sir Ranulph Berlingcourt's heir," said Maulerer of Phascald. "I
had been knocked on the floor by the Archdeacon of Warleileigh, and the
Parson of Pynsent trode on my nose. He was the biggest man in Yorkshire,
and squeezed my nose out of sight--a rare jovial companion, was the Parson
of Pynsent, and many is the joke we have had about the weight of his foot.
Ah! we have no fun now--no fighting, no grinning through a horse-collar,
no roasting before a fire, no singing"--

"Yes," said Reginald, "we have Phil Lorimer."

"Let him come--let us hear him," said some of the party.

"I hate songs," said Dr Howlet; "and think all ballads should be burned."

"And the writers of them, too," added Mr Peeper, with a fierce glance
towards the fireplace, from which Phil Lorimer emerged.

"Oh no! I think songs an innocent diversion," said Mr Lutter, "and
softening to the heart. Sit near me, Mr Lorimer."

"Make a face, Phil," cried the knight; "I would rather see a grin than
hear your ballad."

"Jump, Phil," said Hasket of Norland, applying his fork to Phil's leg as
he passed, "you are a better morris-dancer than a poet."

Phil, who was imperturbably good-natured, did as he was told. He opened
his mouth to a preternatural size, turned one eye to the ceiling, and the
other down to the floor, till Sir Bryan was in ecstasies at his
achievement. He then sprang to an incredible height in that air, and
danced once or twice through the hall, throwing himself into the most
grotesque attitudes imaginable, and the table was nearly shaken in pieces
by the thumpings with which the party showed their satisfaction.

"Now then, Phil; here's a cup of sherry-wine--drink it, boy, and sing a
sweet song to the lady," said Reginald.

"Songs are an invention of the devil," said Mr Peeper.

"Unless they are sung through the nose," said Mr Lutter, with a sneer.

"You approve of songs then?" inquired Mr Peeper, with a fierce look.

"Certainly," said Mr Lutter, "when their subject is good, and the language
modest."

"Then you are an atheist," retorted Mr Peeper.

"What has a ballad to do with atheism?" enquired Mr Lutter, looking angry.

"You approve of wicked songs, and therefore are an atheist."

"A man is more like an atheist," retorted Mr Lutter, "who is ungrateful to
God for the gift of song, and shuts up the sweetest avenue by which the
spirit approaches its Creator. I admire poetry, and respect poets."

"Any one who holds such diabolic doctrines is not fit to remain in
Belfront Castle."

"Nay," replied Mr Lutter, "Belfront Castle would be infinitely improved if
such doctrines were adopted in it."

"Gentlemen," said Reginald, "you are both learned men; and I know nothing
about the questions you discuss."

"Your lady shall judge between us," said Mr Lutter.

"She shall not," said Mr Peeper; "I am the sole judge in matters of the
kind."

"Let us hear Phil's song in the mean time," said Reginald. "Come, Lorimer."

"What shall it be?" said Phil.

"Something comic," said Sir Bryan.

"Something bloody," said Hasket of Norland.

"Something loving," said Maulerer of Phascald.

"Will the lady decide for us?" said Phil, with a smile. "Will you have the
'Silver Scarf,' madam; or 'the Knight and the Soldan of Bagdad?' They are
both done into my poor English from the troubadours of Almeigne."

The lady fixed, at haphazard, on "the Knight and the Soldan of Bagdad:"
and Phil prepared to obey her commands. He took a small harp in his hand,
and sate down in the vacant chair next to Sir Bryan de Bareilles. The rest
of the company composed themselves to listen; and, after a short prelude,
Lorimer, in a fine manly voice, began--

"Oh, brightly bloom'd the orange flow'r,
And fair the roses round;
And the fountain, in its marble bed,
Leapt up with a happy sound;
And stately, stately was the hall,
And rich the feast outspread;
But the Soldan of Bagdad sigh'd full sore,
And never a word he said.
Never a word the Soldan said,
But many a tear let fall;
He had tried all the joys that life could give,
And was weary of them all.
The Soldan lift up his heavy eye--
And to that garden fair,
A stranger enter'd with harp in hand,
And with a winsome air;
Long locks of yellow molten gold
Hung over his cheek so brown,
And a red mantle of Venice silk
Fell from his shoulders down.
A weary wanderer he did seem,
Come from a distant land;
And over the harpstrings thoughtfully,
He moveth his cunning hand.
He opes his lips, and he poureth forth
Such a sweet stream of sound,
That the Soldan's heart leaps up in his breast,
And his eye he casts around.
'Was never a voice,' the Soldan said,
'So sweet--nor so blest a song;--
Sing on, kind minstrel,' the Soldan said,
'I have been sad too long.'
The minstrel sang, and soft and sweet
The Soldan's tears fell free;
'Oh, tell me, thou minstrel dear,' he said,
'What boon shall I give to thee?
Oh, stay with me but a year and a day,
And sing sweet songs to me;
And whatever the boon, by Allah, I swear,
I will freely give it to thee.'
The minstrel stay'd a year and a day,
And the Soldan loved him well;
'Now what is the boon thou askest of me--
I prithee, dear minstrel, tell.'
'A Christian knight in thy dungeon pines,
And his hope is nearly o'er;
His freedom is the boon I ask--
Oh, open his prison door!'
The minstrel went--and no more was seen;
And the Christian knight, set free,
Found a stately ship, that bore him safe
Home to his own countrie.
And his lady met him at the gate,
His lady fair and young;
And with a scream of pride and joy,
She in his bosom hung.
Oh, glad, glad was the Christian knight,
And glad was his lady fair,
And her pale cheek flush'd as he cast aside
The locks of her raven hair,
And kiss'd her brow, and told the tale
Of his dungeon, deep and strong;
And of the minstrel, too, he told
And of the power of song.
And they blest the minstrel, and blest his song,
And soon the feast was dight;
And prince and noble crowded in,
To welcome home the knight.
And when the brimming cup went round,
Spoke out an evil tongue,
And blamed that lady to her lord,
That lady fair and young;
And told, with many a bitter sneer,
How that, for many a day,
When he was prison'd in Paynim land,
That dame was far away,
And none knew where; but all could guess--
Up rose the knight, and kept
His hand close clutch'd on his dagger heft,
And down the hall he stept;
And onwards with the dagger bared,
He rush'd to the lady's bower--
'Thou hast been false, and left thy home--
Thou diest this very hour!'
'Oh! it is true, I left my home;
But yet, before I die,
Oh! look not on me with face so changed,
Nor with so fierce an eye!
Oh! let me, but for a minute's space,
Into my chamber hie;
One prayer I would say for thee and me--
One prayer--before I die!'
She left the bower; and as he stept
To and fro in ireful mood,
A stranger from the chamber came,
And close behind him stood.
Long locks of molten yellow gold
Hung over his cheek so brown,
And a red mantle of Venice silk,
Fell from his shoulder, down.
Dark frown'd the knight--'Vile churl!' he said;
But ere he utter'd more,
The stranger let the mantle fall
Unclasp'd upon the floor,--
And off he cast the yellow locks--
And, lo! the lady fair,
Blushing and casting from her cheek
Her glossy raven hair!
Down fell the dagger; down the knight
Sank kneeling and opprest;
And the lady oped her snow white arms,
And wept upon his breast!"

"A foul song!--a wanton woman!"--exclaimed Sir Bryan de Barreilles--"he
should have stabbed her for living so long with a Jew villain like the
Soldan of Bagdad."

"Was the villain a Jew?" enquired Dr Howlet, who had caught the word. "I
did not know Bagdad was in Jewry. Is a heathen the same as a Jew, Mr
Peeper?"

The gentleman thus appealed to, coughed as if to clear his throat, and
though he usually spoke with the utmost clearness, he mumbled and muttered
in the same unintelligible manner as he had done when he was saying grace;
and it was a very peculiar habit of the learned individual, whenever he
was applied to for an explanation, to betake himself to a mode of speech
that would have puzzled a far wiser head than Dr Howlet's, to make head or
tail of it.

Dr Howlett, however, appeared to be perfectly satisfied with the
information; and by the indignant manner in which he struck his long
gold-headed ebony walking-stick on the floor, seemed entirely to agree
with the worthy knight in his estimate of the heroine of Phil Lorimer's
ballad.

"I like the ballad about the jousting of Romulus the bold Roman, with
Judas Maccabaeus in the Camp at Ascalon far better," said Hasket of
Norland. "Sing it, Phil."

"No, no," cried Maulerer, who was far gone in intoxication. "Sing us the
song of the Feasting at Glaston, when Eneas the Trojan married Arthur's
daughter.--Sing the song, sirrah, this moment, or I'll cut your tongue in
two, to make your note the sweeter.--Sing."

Thus adjured, Phil once more began:--

"There was feasting high and revelry
In Glaston's lofty hall;
And loud was the sound, as the cup went round,
Of joyous whoop and call;
And Arthur the king, in that noble ring,
Was the merriest of them all.
No thought, no care, found entrance there,
But beauty's smiles were won;
No sour Jack Priest to spoil the feast"--

"Ha!" cried Howlet, interrupting Mr Lorimer in a tremendous passion, "what
says the varlet? He is a heathen Turk, and no Christian. How dares he talk
so of the church?" The old man rose as he spoke, and, suddenly catching
hold of the enormous ebony walking-stick, which generally reposed at the
side of his chair, he aimed a blow with all his force at the unfortunate
songster; but, being blind, and not calculating his distance, his staff
fell with tremendous effect on the left eye of Sir Bryan de Barreilles.

"Is it so?" cried the Knight, stunned; but resisting the tendency to
prostration produced by the stroke, and flinging a large silver flagon
across the table, which missed Dr Howlet, and made a deep indentation in
the skull of Maulerer of Phascald--"Now, then!"

Hasket of Norland attempted to hold Sir Bryan, and prevent his following
up his attack; and Mr Maulerer recovered sufficiently to fling the heavy
candlestick at his assailant; the branches of which hit the cheek of
Hasket, while the massive bottom ejected the three front teeth of Sir
Bryan.

There was now no possibility of preventing the quarrel; and while the four
strangers were pounding each other with whatever weapons came first to
hand, and Mr Peeper crept under the table for safety, and Reginald essayed
to talk them into reason, Mr Lutter politely handed Jane to the door of
the hall.

"Permit me, madam, to rescue you from this dreadful scene."

"Is it thus always?" enquired Jane, nearly weeping with fright.

"There are many things that may be improved in the castle," said Mr Lutter.
"I have seen the necessity of an alteration for a long time, and, if you
will favour me with your assistance, much may be done."

"Oh! I will help you to the utmost of my power."

"We must upset the influence of Mr Peeper," said Mr Lutter. "May I speak
to you on the subject to-morrow?"

A month had passed since Jane's arrival at Belfront Castle, and she had
had many private and confidential conversations with Mr Lutter. The
ominous eyes of Mr Peeper grew fiercer and fiercer, and she many times
thought of coming to an open rupture with him at once; but was deterred
from doing so, by not yet having ascertained whether her influence over
Reginald was sufficiently established to stand a contest with the
authority of his ancient friend. She could not understand how her husband
could have remained hoodwinked so long; or how he had submitted to the
despotic proceedings of his former tutor, who persisted in assembling the
same airs of authority over him, as he had exercised when he was a child.
Such, however, was evidently the case; and Reginald had never entertained
a thought of rescuing himself from the thraldom in which he had grown up.
A look from Mr Peeper; a solemn statement from him, that such and such
things had never been heard of before in Belfront; and, above all, the use
of the muttered and unintelligible jargon to which Mr Peeper betook
himself in matters of weight and difficulty, were quite sufficient:
Reginald immediately gave up his own judgment, and felt in fact rather
ashamed of himself for having hinted that he had a judgement at all. Under
these circumstances, Mr Lutter had a very difficult part to play; and all
that Jane could do, was to second him whenever she had the opportunity.
One day, in the lovely month of April, Phil Lorimer sat on a sunny part of
the enornous wall that guarded the castle, and leaning his back against
one of the little square towers that rose at intervals in the circuit of
the fortifications, sang song after song, as if for the edification of a
number of crows that were perched on the trees on the other side of the
moat. The audience were grossly inattentive, and paid no respect whatever
to the performer, who still continued his exertions, as highly satisfied
as if he were applauded by boxes, pit, and gallery of a crowded
theatre:--Among others, he sang the ballad of the "Silver Scarf."

"It was a King's fair daughter,
With eyes of deepest blue,
She wove a scarf of silver
The whole long summer through--

"A stately chair she sat on
Before the castle door,
And ever in the calm moonlight
She work'd it o'er and o'er.

"And many a knight and noble
Went daily out and in,
And each one marvell'd in his heart
Which the fair scarf might win.

"She took no heed of questions,
From her work ne'er raised her head,
And on the snow-white border
Sew'd her name in blackest thread.

"Then came a tempest roaring,
From the high hills it came,
And bore the scarf far out to sea
From forth its fragile frame:

"The maiden sate unstartled,
As if it _must_ be so--
She stood up from her stately chair,
And to her bower did go.

"She took from forth her wardrobe
Her dress of mourning hue--
Whoever for a scarf before
Such weight of sorrow knew?

"In robes of deepest mourning,
Three nights and days she sate;
On the third night, the warder's horn
Was sounded at the gate--

"A messenger stands at the door,
And sad news bringeth he;
The king and all his gallant ships
Are wreck'd upon the sea.

"And now the tide is rising,
And casts upon the shore
Full many a gallant hero's corse,
And many a golden store.

"Then up rose the king's daughter,
Drew to her window near;
'What is it glitters on thine arm,
In the moonlight so clear?'

"'It is a scarf of silver,
I brought it from the strand;
I took it from the closed grasp
Of a strong warrior's hand.'

"That feat thou ne'er shouldst boast of
If but alive were he;
Go take him back thy trophy
To the blue rolling sea.

"And when that knight you've buried,
The scarf his grave shall grace;
And next to where you've laid him,
Oh, leave a vacant place!"

"Here, you cursed old piper! leave off frightening the crows, and open the
gate this moment. Who the devil, do you think, is to burst a bloodvessel
by hollowing here all day?"

Mr Lorimer, though used to considerable indignities, as we have already
seen, had still a little of the becoming poetical pride about him, and
looked rather angrily over the wall. "Nobody wishes you to break
bloodvessels, or have their own ears disturbed by your screaming," he said.
"What do you want?"

"To get into your infernal house, to be sure. Where did you get such
unchristian roads? My bones are sore with the jolting. Send somebody to
open the gate."

"The drawbridge is up, and Mr Peeper must have his twopence."

"Who the devil is Mr Peeper?" said the stranger. "I sha'n't give him a
fraction. Who made the drawbridge his? Is Mr Belfront at home?"

"Yes, he is in Mr Peeper's study."

"And Mrs Belfront?"--

"Pickling cod. It is Mr Peeper's favourite dish; so we all live on it
sometimes for weeks together."

"With such a trout-stream at your door? He'll be a cleverer fellow than I
think him if he gets me to eat his salted carrion. Open the door, I say,
or you'll have the worst of it when my stick gets near your head. Tell Mrs
Belfront her uncle is here--her Uncle Samson."

Phil Lorimer saw no great resemblance to the Jewish Hercules in the little,
dapper, bustling-mannered man in a blue coat with bright brass buttons,
pepper-and-salt knee-breeches, and long gaiters, who thus proclaimed his
relationship to the lady of the castle. He hurried down from the wall to
make the required announcement.

"My uncle Samson, the manufacturer, from Leeds! Oh, let him in, by all
means!" exclaimed Jane; "he was always so kind to me when I was a child!"

"He can't get in, madam, unless Mr Peeper orders the drawbridge to be
lowered; and he is now busy with Mr Belfront."

"Go for Mr Lutter; he will be glad to hear of uncle Samson's arrival."

Mr Lorimer discovered Mr Lutter comfortably regaling himself in the
buttery; but on hearing in what respect his services were required, he
left unfinished a large tankard of ale, with which he was washing down an
enormous quantity of bread and cheese, and proceeded to the moat.

"Don't disturb Mr Peeper," he said, "but help me to launch the little
punt."

By dint of a little labour, the small vessel was got into the water, and
Mr Lutter, taking a scull in his hand, paddled over to the other side, and
embarked the gentleman in the blue coat. Paddling towards an undefended
part of the castle, he taught him how to clamber up the wall; and Mr
Samson, wiping the stains of his climbing from the knees of his nether
habiliments, looked round the castle-yard. "Well! who'd have thought that
such a monstrous strong-looking place should be stormed by a middle-aged
gentleman in a punt!"

"You've a friend in the garrison, you'll remember, sir, and the
battlements have never been repaired."

"They ain't worth repairing. It's a regular waste of building materials to
make such thick walls and pinnacles. Blowed, if them stones wouldn't build
a mill; and a precious water-power, too," he added, as he saw the river
sparkling downward at the northern side. "Oho! I must have a talk with
Jane. Will you take me to Mrs Belfront? I haven't seen her for five years.
She must be much changed since then, and I must prepare her for the
arrival of her cousins."

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