Chatterbox, 1906 Part 70

THE MUSIC OF THE NATIONS.

VIII.--BAGPIPES OF MANY COUNTRIES.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

I wonder if it has ever occurred to any of the readers of _Chatterbox_ that the bagpipes of the Highland glen, and the mighty organ which peals through a Cathedral aisle, are one and the same instrument? When they are reduced to their simplest elements of wind-chest, pipes and reeds, there is practically no difference between the two.

The Bagpipe in its varying forms may be described as a portable organ, whether blown by the mouth of the performer or by a pair of bellows. The instrument is very ancient.

A curious old gem has been preserved, bearing the device of Apollo carrying a lyre in his arms and a bagpipe slung across his back, which takes that instrument right back to the days of ancient Greece.

Powerful bagpipes are used amongst the mountain tribes of Hindustan, and travellers meet with them both in China and Persia. The ancient Romans patronised this instrument largely, and the Emperor Nero was a skilled performer.

A celebrated Italian story-teller of the thirteenth century mentions that in his time the bagpipe was quite a fashionable instrument. Chaucer and Spenser both allude to it, and the former says, in _Henry IV._, that Falstaff was 'as melancholy as a lover's lute, or drone of a bagpipe.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Old Ornamental Bagpipe.]

It is usually supposed that the bagpipe was brought from the East by the Crusaders; it was reckoned as a court instrument in the time of Edward the Second. In France, it was popular in polite society, up to the end of the thirteenth century, when it was gradually banished to the lower cla.s.ses, and chiefly played by blind beggars. Two curious old pictures exist of that date, representing bagpipe-players, one on stilts, the other playing for a girl who is dancing on his shoulders.

In the seventeenth century, Louis the Fourteenth of France, casting about for new amus.e.m.e.nts for his favourites, rescued the bagpipe, or, as the French called it, the 'cornemeuse,' from its low surroundings, and introduced it into his Arcadian festivities. We may picture a dignified Marquis and Marquise, as Watteau has painted them, in the fantastic garb of shepherds and shepherdesses, frolicking to the music of the bagpipes, in the forest glades of Versailles or Fontainebleau.

The great bagpipe of the Highlands is inspiriting in war, and was first used in battle in the early part of the fifteenth century. Up to that date, warriors depended for inspiration on the war-songs of the Bards, but doubtless the piercing tones of the bagpipes carried further, and were more thrilling.

One of the amus.e.m.e.nts of a Scotch tour nowadays is to watch the pipers playing and dancing on the quays where the steamers touch. Their gay tartan attire and quaint instruments, with their gaudy bags and fringes, make a bright note of colour, and, judging by the money collected, bagpiping must be a fairly profitable employment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Old Irish Bagpipe.]

The Irish bagpipe is a much more complete instrument than the Scotch, although it is steadily dying out. In the latter, only one of the pipes has notes. This one is termed the 'Chanter,' the other pipes (known as 'Drones') having only one fixed sound, and causing the curious droning sound which accompanies the melody, whether lament or merry dance, played on the 'chanter.' In the Irish form, the drone-pipes also have notes, ensuring much more variety; indeed, this instrument is capable, in good hands, of great sweetness and delicacy of tone. It is blown by bellows instead of the mouth, which probably prevents jerkiness and makes the sound steadier.

A peculiar bagpipe is used in Sardinia, called the 'Lanedda,' in which the unfortunate player is obliged to make use of three mouthpieces at the same time. It is not surprising to hear that the performance is exhausting, and that the players often die early deaths.

The 'Musette' was a softer form of bagpipes, and many of the great musicians have included in their 'Suites,' or collections of dances, special music for the instrument bearing this name. Such music had a lulling, dreamy tone, and greatly depended for effect on a clever use of the drone-pipes. Musettes were often of most elaborate construction, the covers of the windbags being of plush or velvet, richly embroidered in needlework, whilst the pipes and mouthpieces are inlaid with ivory, ebony, and silver.

HELENA HEATH.

OLD OXFORD CASTLE.

Old books describe clearly where Oxford Castle stood. It was close to St. George's Church, and not far from a water-mill; the stream that turned this mill flowed past the town, supplying water to the big moat which surrounded the castle, and which was crossed by a strong bridge.

The most ancient form of the crest or coat-of-arms of Oxford shows a castle, a winding stream, and a bridge. There is a curious drawing of the castle, made by Ralph Agas, in 1538, during the reign of Henry VIII., though some people think he has put the round tower, or keep, in the wrong place. This keep is the last part of Oxford Castle to be left standing; the rest has gone.

It is difficult to find out when Oxford Castle was first built. It is certain that it dates from the time of the Saxons. There is a tradition that King Offa built the original castle, which would mean some date in the eighth century, and the great King Alfred was probably often at Oxford, staying at the castle. In the collections of Saxon coins, round in Oxford, there are some coins of his time. Then the son of Canute was crowned at Oxford, and lived for a while at the castle, but he reigned only four years. About 1791, the remains of old walls were found, immensely thick, with some remarkable wells. These walls were thought to be Saxon. Thus we pa.s.s on till the Normans conquered England, when there is proof that this castle was rebuilt by one Robert d'Oiley. The Conqueror divided the possessions of the Saxons freely among those who came over with him, and this man had Oxford Castle given to him. He rebuilt it in 1071, keeping, perhaps, some of the old fabric. In the year 1141, the Empress Maud, who had escaped from Devizes on a funeral bier, covered up as if dead, reached Oxford, and there she was again besieged. It seemed likely the castle would be taken, and she would be seized by her enemies, but we are told that she managed to escape again.

Accompanied by three knights, she got out of Oxford to a place of safety.

At some date in the reign of Henry III., Oxford Castle had its walls strengthened, and the round tower was rebuilt. It was then, probably, that the towers were made along the embattled walls, and especially one of those peculiar towers called a barbican, contrived so as to give an outlook on approaching foes. These barbicans had a device by which hot water or stones could be flung down upon any enemy who succeeded in pa.s.sing the bridge. King Charles I. was often a visitor to Oxford Castle, and after the wars between Parliament and King were over, some other changes were made in the defences of the castle. After the Revolution, it was allowed to decay gradually.

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 223._)

As soon as tea was over, they started for the Treasure Caves, Estelle dancing along in front of the tall sailor, eager for the mysteries she was about to see in those gloomy-looking caves she had so often pa.s.sed on her way to the boat. But Jack told her those she had seen were mere shallow affairs, not worth looking at. The Treasure Caves were at some little distance beyond the cliff which jutted out into the sea, but they could reach them at low water through an archway made by the waves in the rocks.

The cliffs near their home were not too steep to be covered by short gra.s.s, dotted with sea-pinks and stocks, with a shrub, here and there, of sea-holly. A solitary pine-tree now and again, and the little cl.u.s.ter at the end of the path, proved that this part of the bay was far above high-water mark. But the headland reached a greater height, and rose from the sea. Estelle found, on pa.s.sing through the archway, that the coast-line beyond swept round in a grand curve, and the yellow sands stretched for miles.

The village was on the other side of the little bay. Where she now stood there was no sign of any habitation. The high, steep cliffs of the headland sloped gradually away in the distance, till the country could be seen green and fertile in the sunshine.

The opening to the caves lay in a narrow ravine. A great pool of water stretched from wall to wall, but Jack took Estelle in his arms, and made his way to the cave on upstanding bits of rock. Estelle thought it very dangerous, but it was very charming.

They found themselves in a vast vaulted place, from the roof of which there was a continual dripping sound. Dark as the rock was, bright patches of colour shone out here and there, almost like splashes of gaudy paint. Lighting a bit of candle he had in his pocket, Jack showed Estelle that they were not little dried cherries and green olives, as one might suppose, but sea-anemones.

Sea-anemones? Where had she heard of them before? Somebody wanted her to have some? But who?

'Come this way, Missie,' said Jack, interrupting her confused thoughts.

'Take care how you tread. It's slippery, I can tell you.'

Indeed it was, and very careful steering was necessary. The little girl clung nervously to her companion's hand, as they made their way through wet sand, over rocks covered with green seaweed and slime, and gravel lying under a thin stream of water. Jack appeared to be quite indifferent to all these inconveniences. Careful to lift Estelle over the worst places, he was utterly regardless of his own dripping condition.

At the further end they entered a smaller cave, quite dry, except for a little rivulet gurgling through it. So clean and white was the sand, so sweet and fresh the air from the great hole in the roof, whence the light came streaming in, that Estelle danced about in the merry fashion of her days at the Moat House. Jack watched her, smiling, and when she sat down quite tired, he dropped on the sand beside her, and told her of the great storms that drove the mighty waves into these caverns, and of the strange things they carried in with them--how ships were wrecked on the cruel rocks, and how he had once sheltered ten or twelve persons in this very cave, and others in the Hospice de la Providence, till the storm went down.

'Are these caves called----?' asked Estelle.

'The Treasure Caves. They are almost forgotten now, because the sea is so rough in these parts that folk seldom venture here. The tide, too, comes up quickly, and might cut them off, particularly if they don't know their way about. At full tide you could not see the entrance to that outer cave--the one we came into first--for it is below water.'

Estelle looked up in an alarmed manner, but he told her he was well acquainted with rocks and tides and currents, and would not be the one to run her into any risks.

'But, Jack,' said Estelle, gazing wonderingly at him, 'don't these great dark rocks and caves make you feel frightened and lonely sometimes, and perhaps unhappy too?'

'Why should they, Missie? I am used to the sea, and so is Mother. I don't think we could bear to be out of the sound of it.'

'Are you sorry you are not at sea now? Is it that which makes you look so unhappy sometimes?'

'It is, and it isn't; if you can understand what I mean.'

'No, I can't. You have such a dear mother, and such a nice home; why do you want to leave them?'

'I don't want to leave them, even if I could,' said Jack, sadly. 'But there are other things one can't tell little ladies about.'

Such a look of pain and sorrow crossed his face as he spoke, that Estelle instinctively turned away her eyes. She began taking up handfuls of sand to let it run through her fingers.