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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman, by Charles Dickens and William Makepeace Thackeray, Illustrated by George Cruikshank

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Title: The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman

Author: Charles Dickens and William Makepeace Thackeray

Release Date: April 14, 2005 [eBook #15618]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVING BALLAD OF LORD BATEMAN***

 

E-text prepared by Jason Isbell, Ben Beasley,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

 

THE LOVING BALLAD OF LORD BATEMAN. ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. LONDON: CHARLES TILT, FLEET STREET. AND MUSTAPHA SYRIED, CONSTANTINOPLE. MDCCCXXXIX.

Warning to the Public CONCERNING THE LOVING BALLAD OF LORD BATEMAN.

In some collection of old English Ballads there is an ancient ditty which I am told bears some remote and distant resemblance to the following Epic Poem. I beg to quote the emphatic language of my estimable friend (if he will allow me to call him so), the Black Bear in Piccadilly, and to assure all to whom these presents may come, that "I am the original." This affecting legend is given in the following pages precisely as I have frequently heard it sung on Saturday nights, outside a house of general refreshment (familiarly termed a wine vaults) at Battle-bridge. The singer is a young gentleman who can scarcely have numbered nineteen summers, and who before his last visit to the treadmill, where he was erroneously incarcerated for six months as a vagrant (being unfortunately mistaken for another gentleman), had a very melodious and plaintive tone of voice, which, though it is now somewhat impaired by gruel and such a getting up stairs for so long a period, I hope shortly to find restored. I have taken down the words from his own mouth at different periods, and have been careful to preserve his pronunciation, together with the air to which he does so much justice. Of his execution of it, however, and the intense melancholy which he communicates to such passages of the song as are most susceptible of such an expression, I am unfortunately unable to convey to the reader an adequate idea, though I may hint that the effect seems to me to be in part produced by the long and mournful drawl on the last two or three words of each verse.

I had intended to have dedicated my imperfect illustrations of this beautiful Romance to the young gentleman in question. As I cannot find, however, that he is known among his friends by any other name than "The Tripe-skewer," which I cannot but consider as a soubriquet, or nick-name; and as I feel that it would be neither respectful nor proper to address him publicly by that title, I have been compelled to forego the pleasure. If this should meet his eye, will he pardon my humble attempt to embellish with the pencil the sweet ideas to which he gives such feeling utterance? And will he believe me to remain his devoted admirer,

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK?

P.S.—The above is not my writing, nor the notes either, nor am I on familiar terms (but quite the contrary) with the Black Bear. Nevertheless I admit the accuracy of the statement relative to the public singer whose name is unknown, and concur generally in the sentiments above expressed relative to him.

(signature: George Cruikshank)
Musical Score

Transcibers note: The music has been digitized with Lilypond. See these versions:
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The Loving Ballad Of Lord Bateman.
I.
Lord Bateman vos a noble Lord,
A noble Lord of high degree;
He shipped his-self all aboard of a ship,
Some foreign country for to see.[1]*
*For the notes to this beautiful Poem, see the end of the work.
Lord Bateman as he appeared previous to his embarkation.
The Turk's only daughter approaches to mitigate the sufferings of Lord Bateman!--
II.
He sail-ed east, he sail-ed vest,
Until he come to famed Tur-key,
Vere he vos taken, and put to prisin,
Until his life was quite wea-ry.
III.
All in this prisin there grew a tree,
O! there it grew so stout and strong,
Vere he vos chain-ed all by the middle
Until his life vos almost gone.
The Turk' daughter expresses a wish as Lord Bateman was hers.
IV.
This Turk[2] he had one ounly darter,
The fairest my two eyes e'er see,
She steele the keys of her father's prisin,
And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.
V.
O she took him to her father's cellar,
And guv to him the best of vine;
And ev'ry holth she dronk unto him,
Vos, "I vish Lord Bateman as you vos mine!"[3]
The "WOW."
VI.
"O have you got houses, have you got land,
And does Northumberland belong to thee?
And what would you give to the fair young lady
As out of prisin would let you go free?"
VII.
"O I've got houses, and I've got land,
And half Northumberland belongs to me;
And I vill give it all to the fair young lady
As out of prisin vould let me go free."
The Turk's daughter, bidding his Lordship farewell, is impressed with a foreboding that she will see him no more!—
VIII.
"O in sevin long years, I'll make a wow
For sevin long years, and keep it strong,[4]
That if you'll ved no other voman,
O I vill v-e-ed no other man."
IX.
O She took him to her father's harbour,
And guv to him a ship of fame,
Saying, "Farevell, Farevell to you, Lord Bateman,
I fear I ne-e-ever shall see you agen."
The Proud young Porter answers the door—
X.
Now sevin long years is gone and past,
And fourteen days vell known to me;[5]
She packed up all her gay clouthing,
And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.
XI.
O ven she arrived at Lord Bateman's castle,
How bouldly then she rang the bell,
"Who's there! who's there!" cries the proud young porter,
"O come, unto me pray quickly tell."
The Proud young Porter in Lord Bateman's State Apartment
XII.
"O! is this here Lord Bateman's castle,
And is his lordship here vithin?"
"O Yes! O yes!" cries the proud young porter;
"He's just now takin' his young bride in."
XIII.
"O! bid him to send me a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the wery best vine,
And not forgettin' the fair young lady
As did release him ven close confine."
The young bride's Mother is heard (for the first time) to speak freely
XIV.
O! avay and avay vent this proud young porter,
O! avay and avay and avay vent he,[6]
Until he come to Lord Bateman's charmber,
Ven he vent down on his bended knee.
XV.
"Vot news, vot news, my proud young porter,[7]
Vot news, vot news, come tell to me?"
"O there is the fairest young lady
As ever my two eyes did see.
The young bride comes on a horse and saddle
XVI.
"She has got rings on ev'ry finger,
And on one finger she has got three:
Vith as much gay gould about her middle
As would buy half Northumberlee.
XVII.
"O she bids you to send her a slice of bread
And a bottle of the wery best vine,
And not forgettin' the fair young lady
As did release you ven close confine."
—And goes home in a coach and three——
XVIII.
Lord Bateman then in passion flew,
And broke his sword in splinters three,[8]
Saying, "I vill give half my father's land
If so be as Sophia[9] has crossed the sea."
XIX.
Then up and spoke this young bride's mother,
Who never vos heerd to speak so free:[10]
Sayin, "You'll not forget my ounly darter,
If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea."
Lord Bateman, his other bride, and his favorite domestic, with all their hearts so full of glee.
XX.
"O it's true I made a bride of your darter,
But she's neither the better nor the vorse for me;
She came to me with a horse and saddle,
But she may go home in a coach and three."
XXI.
Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage,
With both their hearts so full of glee,
Saying, "I vill roam no more to foreign countries
Now that Sophia has crossed the sea."[11]
NOTES.
[1]
Some foreign country for to see.

The reader is here in six words artfully made acquainted with Lord Bateman's character and temperament.—Of a roving, wandering, and unsettled spirit, his Lordship left his native country, bound he knew not whither. Some foreign country he wished to see, and that was the extent of his desire; any foreign country would answer his purpose—all foreign countries were alike to him. He was a citizen of the world, and upon the world of waters, sustained by the daring and reckless impulses of his heart, he boldly launched. For anything, from pitch-and-toss upwards to manslaughter, his Lordship was prepared. Lord Bateman's character at this time, and his expedition, would appear to Have borne a striking resemblance to those of Lord Byron.
His goblets brimmed with every costly wine,
And all that mote to luxury invite.
Without a sigh he left to cross the brine,
And traverse Paynim shores, and pass earth's central line.
Childe Harold, Canto I.
[2]
This Turk he had, &c.

The poet has here, by that bold license which only genius can venture upon, surmounted the extreme difficulty of introducing any particular Turk, by assuming a fore-gone conclusion in the reader's mind, and adverting in a casual, careless way to a Turk unknown, as to an old acquaintance. "This Turk he had—" We have heard of no Turk before, and yet this familiar introduction satisfies us at once that we know him well. He was a pirate, no doubt, of a cruel and savage disposition, entertaining a hatred of the Christian race, and accustomed to garnish his trees and vines with such stray professors of Christianity as happened to fall into his hands. "This Turk he had—" is a master-stroke—a truly Shakspearian touch. There are few things like it in the language.
[3]
And every holth she drunk unto him
Vos, "I vish Lord Bateman as you vos mine!"

A most affecting illustration of the sweetest simplicity, the purest artlessness, and holiest affections of woman's gentle nature. Bred up among the rough and savage crowds which thronged her father's lawless halls, and meeting with no responsive or kindred spirit among those fierce barbarians (many of whom, however, touched by her surpassing charms, though insensible to her virtues and mental endowments, had vainly sought her hand in marriage), this young creature had spent the greater part of her life in the solitude of her own apartments, or in contemplating the charms of nature arrayed in all the luxury of eastern voluptuousness. At length she
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