NOTES.
The judgment of the peine forte et dure, on an instance of which our ballad is founded, was well known in the ancient law of England. As has been seen, it was terribly severe. The circumstances of the judgment were as follows: When a prisoner stood charged with an offence, and an indictment had been found against him, before he could be tried he was called upon to answer, or, in technical parlance, to plead. A plea in bar is an answer, either affirming or denying the offence charged in the indictment, or, if of a dilatory character, showing some ground why the defendant should not be called upon to answer at all. In those days, in all capital cases, the estates of the criminal, on conviction and judgment, were forfeited to the crown. The blood of the offender was considered as corrupted, and, as a consequence, his property could not pass to his family, who, although innocent, suffered for the faults of the criminal. Crimes, therefore, where the punishment fell, not only on the criminal but on his family, were comparatively of rare occurrence. An admission of guilt produced the same effect as a conviction. If the defendant, however, stood mute, obstinately refusing to answer, by which behaviour he preserved his estates to his family, he was sentenced to undergo the judgment of the peine forte et dure.
"The English judgment of penance for standing mute," says Chief Justice Blackstone, in his admirable Commentaries, "was as follows: That the prisoner be remanded to the prison from whence he came, and put into a low, dark chamber; and there be laid on his back, naked, unless where decency forbids: that there be placed upon his body as great a weight of iron as he could bear and more; that he have no sustenance, save only on the first day, three morsels of the worst bread; and, on the second day, three draughts of standing water, that should be nearest to the prison door; and in this situation this should be alternately his daily diet till he died, or (as anciently the judgement ran) till he answered."
With respect to this horrid judgment, Christian, in his notes to the same work, goes on to say: that "the prosecutor and the court could exercise no discretion, or show no favour to a prisoner who stood obstinately mute." "In the legal history of this country," (England,) he continues, "are numerous instances of persons who have had resolution and patience to undergo so terrible a death in order to benefit their heirs by preventing a forfeiture of their estates, which would have been a consequence of a conviction by a verdict. There is a memorable story of an ancestor of an ancient family in the north of England. In a fit of jealousy he killed his wife; and put to death his children who were at home, by throwing them from the battlements of his castle; and proceeding with an intent to destroy his only remaining child, an infant nursed at a farm-house at some distance, he was intercepted by a storm of thunder and lightning. This awakened in his breast compunction of conscience. He desisted from his purpose, and having surrendered himself to justice, in order to secure his estates to this child, he had the resolution to die under the dreadful judgment of the peine forte et dure." This tale is the base of our romance.
THE SEA NYMPH'S SONG.
BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.
Sound is he sleeping
Far under the wave—
Sea nymphs are keeping
A watch for the brave:
Deep was our grief and wild—
Wilder our dirge
When the doomed ocean child
Drowned in the surge.
Within a bright chamber
His form we have laid;
With spar, pearl and amber
The walls are arrayed—
Though high rolls the billow
He wakes not at morn,
And sponge for his pillow
From rocks we have torn.
I heard thy name spoken
When down came the mast;
His hold was then broken,
That word was his last.
A picture is lying,
Lorn maid! on his breast—
That picture in dying
His hand closely prest.
Why turns thy cheek paler
These tidings to know?
The truth of thy sailor
Should lessen thy wo:
The wave could not chill it
That stifled his breath;
Pure love—can aught kill it?
Give answer, Oh, Death!