Part 1 (1/2)
Bungay Castle.
by Elizabeth Bonhote.
INTRODUCTION.
Castle-Building appears to have been the pa.s.sion of all ages; while some have been raising their fabrics on the most solid and lasting foundations, others have been forming them in the air, where the structure has been erected with infinitely less trouble, as their own invention led them to wish, and very pleasant, no doubt, was the delusion of the moment.
It is now the prevailing taste to read wonderful tales of wonderful castles; to recall them from the [* Missing words here ]
ages, and represent them as the novelist finds most suitable to the circ.u.mstances of his tale. In times like these, every book that serves to amuse the mind, and withdraw the attention from scenes of real distress, without inflaming the pa.s.sions, or corrupting the heart, must surely be as acceptable to the reader as it may have been found pleasant to the writer, and should exempt the latter from the severity of criticism. Under the influence of this opinion, the Author of the following sheets has been tempted to send them into the world. She might, indeed, to evade the danger of having her work condemned, pretend to have found it in some recess of her favourite ruins, or to have discovered it artfully concealed in the bottom of an old chest, in so defaced and mutilated a condition, as to have rendered it a very difficult and laborious task to collect the fragments and modernize the language: but the writer of these pages has not been so fortunate; and, had she attempted to a.s.sert so marvellous a circ.u.mstance, she could not have expected any miss of fifteen would have been credulous enough to believe her.
The thought of publis.h.i.+ng a novel, under the t.i.tle given to these volumes, has long been her intention,--a thought which originated from her living within the distance of twenty yards from those venerable ruins, which still attract the attention of the stranger and the curious. Often in early youth had she climbed their loftiest summits, and listened with pleased and captivated attention to the unaccountable tales related by the old and superst.i.tious, and considered as real by herself and her inexperienced companions.--In one place, it was said the ghost of an ancient warrior, clad in armour, took his nightly round to reconnoitre scenes endeared by many a tender claim. In another, a lovely female form had been seen to glide along, and was supposed to disappear on the very spot where it was imagined her lover had fallen a victim to the contentions of the times.
”Her face was like an April sky Dimm'd by a scatt'ring cloud; Her clay-cold lily hand, knee-high, Held up her sable shroud.”
All these circ.u.mstances added strength to a romantic turn of mind, which acquired additional force from a love of reading the old romances, and this propensity for the marvellous was for some time indulged in the midst of scenes which afforded ample scope for the creative excursions of fancy. After having left her paternal dwelling many years, she is again replaced in it by some of those changes which so frequently occur in the progress of human life; and has purchased the little spot of ground on which stands the princ.i.p.al part of all that now remains of Bungay Castle, and which, though a mere heap of unconnected ruins, are still so venerable as to excite, in the feeling and thoughtful mind, a sympathetic regret at the instability of human grandeur and the weakness of human strength.
Among these ruins, once the property, and, in all probability, the temporary residence, of the n.o.ble house of Norfolk, cottages are now built, and inhabited by many poor families, and those very walls, which perhaps sheltered royalty, are now the supporters of miserable hovels. Such are the awful effects of time, and the unaccountable revolutions it produces!
But, were it in the Author's power as much as it is her inclination, she would adorn their venerable remains with all the flowers of spring, and the tempting treasures of autumn should surround them. The jessamine and honey-suckle should clasp them in their embraces, and the tendrils of the vine and the fig-tree should encircle and decorate them with their luscious sweets. She would, on the loftiest corner of their remains, build herself a little hut, in which she could sit and contemplate the variegated scenes around. She would reverse the order of things, and render them as lovely and beautiful in age, as they were grand and magnificent before time had robbed them of those envied and valuable properties which it cannot restore.
Being again in the habit of spending many leisure hours in this favourite spot, endeared to her for bringing to remembrance the enlivening scenes of youth, and, having opportunities to pursue her sedentary amus.e.m.e.nts, she determined to accomplish her design, seeing no reason why Bungay Castle should not be as good a foundation for the structure of a novel as any other edifice within or without the kingdom. But, as so many ages are elapsed since this Castle was reared, and since time and death have swept away with ruthless hand almost every vestige of what it once was, she has to lament, and so perhaps may her readers, that she was furnished for this employment with no other materials than the scanty portion her own imagination afforded.
She has borrowed some real names, and she hopes the characters she has introduced will be found neither disgusting nor unnatural. But, as Solomon so many centuries ago declared, there was nothing _new_ under the sun, she cannot surely be condemned for not producing new characters, nor blamed if any contained in this work resemble those of the present day; and, though in the reigns of our first sovereigns, and many of their successors, the customs and manners of the people were somewhat different, she is convinced the world was in many instances just the same. The same virtues, vices, and pa.s.sions, degraded or enn.o.bled human nature; and, though delicacy, sensibility, and refinement might be less known, and not so frequently mentioned, they no doubt retained as proper and powerful an influence over the mind. Love too, that invincible and all-subduing pa.s.sion, implanted in the heart of man from the beginning of the world, was as generally known and acknowledged by the king and the peasant, the hero and the coward.
This painfully leads to an observation, which, while it is humiliating, has too much truth for its foundation to admit of dispute, that, though the same vices which disgrace the present times were practised in the earliest ages, more pains were then taken to conceal them from public observation, and the conduct, of which the modern fine gentleman or avowed debauchee will now proudly boast, would then have been considered as sufficient to stamp the character with indelible infamy.
By our unfas.h.i.+onable progenitors modesty was distinguished and admired as the most becoming ornament of woman; adultery was punished, and seduction held in contempt; the artful betrayer of unsuspecting innocence was pointed at by the finger of derision, and the victim of baseness compelled to conceal her shame either in the shades of retirement or the seclusion of a nunnery. We may justly lament, if we are not permitted to condemn, that in this respect the present age is not quite so sensitive, and may shed the tear of regret at being so often forced to look down with pity, when we meet, at almost every corner of our streets, the unblus.h.i.+ng front of degraded beauty, and our ears are shocked with the execrations of profligacy from lips that in early life had been taught to speak a language as pure as their own uncontaminated hearts.
The author of these pages has not attempted to enter on the politics of the past or present times. Had she ever cherished such a design, the sentiments of one of the first* and most interesting writers this age has produced, would instantly have determined her to decline her intention, but she had ever thought that so heterogeneous a mixture was not likely to please the taste of many readers, and that a novel was never intended as a vehicle for politics, any farther than it was necessary for the elucidation of the story. Firmly attached to her King, perfectly satisfied with our laws and const.i.tution, and grateful to heaven for being permitted to live under so mild and just a government. In a country where freedom and plenty have hitherto taken their stations, and shed their most benign influence, she will ever remain contented to leave politics and the affairs of state to be settled by better, wiser, and more experienced heads.
[Footnote:* Mr. c.u.mberland]
Gentle reader, we will now enter upon a story, of whose origin you are informed. If any, who sit down to read it with minds tortured by mental or bodily diseases, should find a temporary relief from misery or languor, the Author will consider it as a luxuriant reward for her employment. If, on the contrary, they should be disappointed, or dissatisfied, she sincerely wishes they may meet a more agreeable entertainment from the next publication thrown in their way.
To the Reviewers she takes this opportunity of publicly making her acknowledgements for the liberality and candour they have invariably shewn to her former publications; and, though she has never had the satisfaction of being personally known to any one of them, she has for many years considered them as friends.
CHAP. I
During the b.l.o.o.d.y period of the Barons' wars, when civil discord threw her fire-brands around, to lay waste and make desolate the fertile plains and fruitful fields of this long envied country; when the widow mourned the husband torn from her embraces, and the orphan wandered friendless and unprotected; when brother waged war against brother, and the parent raised his arm to destroy the son he had reared and cherished; when every castle was kept in a state of the most guarded defence, lest it should be wrested from its owner by the ambition and enmity of his neighbour:--then it was that _Bungay Castle_ reared its proud towers and battlements aloft; while its ma.s.sy walls stood in gloomy and majestic grandeur, as if they could bid defiance to every design formed against them by man, and to the more certain influence of all-conquering time; so perfectly stupendous and strong was this once-s.p.a.cious edifice, it was not only an object of desire to the proud and aspiring barons, but, it has been said, even to contending kings.
The n.o.ble and loyal lord of this castle, being called upon to fill some important office in the service of the state, appointed Sir Philip de Morney to be governor during his absence, and never had he shewn the goodness of his heart and the excellence of his judgment more than in the delegation of his power and authority over so numerous a train of va.s.sals and dependents to this his bosom friend.
Sir Philip de Morney was a bold and hardy veteran: he was grown grey in the service of his king and country; brave in the field, just, merciful, and benevolent, in his dealings with all his fellow-creatures,--possessed of an abundant fortune, he accepted this important trust to oblige his friend, and promote the happiness of those to whom he knew he was attached;--fond of an active and useful life, he wished not to sink into indolence or obscurity, till the infirmities of age should render him incapable of taking his share in the busy scenes of that important period, in which, though the pernicious doctrine of equality did not influence the minds of the vulgar against their lawful sovereign, or the rights of the subject, the ambition of the n.o.bility, and the feuds and distraction of the contending parties, produced scenes of misery equally distressing, but happily not so extensive in their effects.
Into Bungay Castle he removed with his whole family, and there for some years found that happiness he had vainly sought in more enlivening scenes; and there he tasted those serene and contented pleasures he had been unable to procure in the world; though formed to make a brilliant figure on its great stage, he had every endowment of the mind for the true enjoyment of domestic life, uniting with the most unshaken courage the gentlest philanthropy. He had married at the age of thirty-five a lady much younger than himself, by whom he had several children, and looked forward with the hope of being the parent of a more numerous offspring, while, like the patriarchs of old, he lived respected and revered in the bosom of his family.
Ah! little did he suspect the revolution ambition would one day make in his mind.
Lady de Morney was yet in the pride of life; her beauty unfaded, her spirits lively, and her mind in its full vigour; her person was lovely, her disposition amiable: sweetness, modesty, truth, and fort.i.tude, were the inmates of her bosom, and gave additional graces to the ease and elegance of her manners; strictly exemplary in performing the important duties of wife and mother, no complaints were heard where she presided; no looks of discontent were seen on the countenance of her dependents; time was neither abused nor found a burden; her whole study and attention were employed to promote the happiness of her husband, and to superintend the education of her children; for the latter employment no one was more adequate than herself,--her own example serving more than precept to enforce the lessons of truth on the ductile mind of youth; her own gentleness made them happy, while her conduct convinced them of the value and dignity of virtue.