by Walter Scott
APPENDICES TO THE GENERAL PREFACE
NO. I
FRAGMENT [Footnote: It is not to be supposed that these fragments aregiven in possessing any intrinsic value of themselves; but there may besome curiosity attached to them, as to the first etchings of a plate,which are accounted interesting by those who have, in any degree, beeninterested in the more finished works of the artist.] OF A ROMANCEWHICH WAS TO HAVE BEEN ENTITLED
THOMAS THE RHYMER
CHAPTER I
THE sun was nearly set behind the distant mountains of Liddesdale, whena few of the scattered and terrified inhabitants of the village ofHersildoune, which had four days before been burned by a predatory bandof English Borderers, were now busied in repairing their ruineddwellings. One high tower in the centre of the village alone exhibitedno appearance of devastation. It was surrounded with court walls, andthe outer gate was barred and bolted. The bushes and brambles whichgrew around, and had even insinuated their branches beneath the gate,plainly showed that it must have been many years since it had beenopened. While the cottages around lay in smoking ruins, this pile,deserted and desolate as it seemed to be, had suffered nothing from theviolence of the invaders; and the wretched beings who were endeavouringto repair their miserable huts against nightfall seemed to neglect thepreferable shelter which it might have afforded them without thenecessity of labour.
Before the day had quite gone down, a knight, richly armed and mountedupon an ambling hackney, rode slowly into the village. His attendantswere a lady, apparently young and beautiful, who rode by his side upona dappled palfrey; his squire, who carried his helmet and lance, andled his battlehorse, a noble steed, richly caparisoned. A page and fouryeomen bearing bows and quivers, short swords, and targets of a spanbreadth, completed his equipage, which, though small, denoted him to bea man of high rank.
He stopped and addressed several of the inhabitants whom curiosity hadwithdrawn from their labour to gaze at him; but at the sound of hisvoice, and still more on perceiving the St. George's Cross in the capsof his followers, they fled, with a loud cry, 'that the Southrons werereturned.' The knight endeavoured to expostulate with the fugitives,who were chiefly aged men, women, and children; but their dread of theEnglish name accelerated their flight, and in a few minutes, exceptingthe knight and his attendants, the place was deserted by all. He pacedthrough the village to seek a shelter for the night, and, despairing tofind one either in the inaccessible tower or the plundered huts of thepeasantry, he directed his course to the left hand, where he spied asmall decent habitation, apparently the abode of a man considerablyabove the common rank. After much knocking, the proprietor at lengthshowed himself at the window, and speaking in the English dialect, withgreat signs of apprehension, demanded their business. The warriorreplied that his quality was an English knight and baron, and that hewas travelling to the court of the King of Scotland on affairs ofconsequence to both kingdoms.
'Pardon my hesitation, noble Sir Knight,' said the old man, as heunbolted and unbarred his doors--'Pardon my hesitation, but we are hereexposed to too many intrusions to admit of our exercising unlimited andunsuspicious hospitality. What I have is yours; and God send yourmission may bring back peace and the good days of our old QueenMargaret!'
'Amen, worthy Franklin,' quoth the Knight--'Did you know her?'
'I came to this country in her train,' said the Franklin; 'and the careof some of her jointure lands which she devolved on me occasioned mysettling here.'
'And how do you, being an Englishman,' said the Knight, 'protect yourlife and property here, when one of your nation cannot obtain a singlenight's lodging, or a draught of water were he thirsty?'
'Marry, noble sir,' answered the Franklin, 'use, as they say, will makea man live in a lion's den; and as I settled here in a quiet time, andhave never given cause of offence, I am respected by my neighbours, andeven, as you see, by our FORAYERS from England.'
'I rejoice to hear it, and accept your hospitality. Isabella, my love,our worthy host will provide you a bed. My daughter, good Franklin, isill at ease. We will occupy your house till the Scottish King shallreturn from his northern expedition; meanwhile call me Lord Lacy ofChester.'
The attendants of the Baron, assisted by the Franklin, were now busiedin disposing of the horses, and arranging the table for somerefreshment for Lord Lacy and his fair companion. While they sat downto it, they were attended by their host and his daughter, whom customdid not permit to eat in their presence, and who afterwards withdrew toan outer chamber, where the squire and page (both young men of noblebirth) partook of supper, and were accommodated with beds. The yeomen,after doing honour to the rustic cheer of Queen Margaret's bailiff,withdrew to the stable, and each, beside his favourite horse, snoredaway the fatigues of their journey.
Early on the following morning the travellers were roused by athundering knocking at the door of the house, accompanied with manydemands for instant admission in the roughest tone. The squire and pageof Lord Lacy, after buckling on their arms, were about to sally out tochastise these intruders, when the old host, after looking out at aprivate casement, contrived for reconnoitring his visitors, entreatedthem, with great signs of terror, to be quiet, if they did not meanthat all in the house should be murdered.
He then hastened to the apartment of Lord Lacy, whom he met dressed ina long furred gown and the knightly cap called a MORTIER, irritated atthe noise, and demanding to know the cause which had disturbed therepose of the household.
'Noble sir,' said the Franklin, 'one of the most formidable and bloodyof the Scottish Border riders is at hand; he is never seen,' added he,faltering with terror, 'so far from the hills but with some badpurpose, and the power of accomplishing it; so hold yourself to yourguard, for--'
A loud crash here announced that the door was broken down, and theknight just descended the stair in time to prevent bloodshed betwixthis attendants and the intruders. They were three in number; theirchief was tall, bony, and athletic, his spare and muscular frame, aswell as the hardness of his features, marked the course of his life tohave been fatiguing and perilous. The effect of his appearance wasaggravated by his dress, which consisted of a jack or jacket, composedof thick buff leather, on which small plates of iron of a lozenge formwere stitched in such a manner as to overlap each other and form a coatof mail, which swayed with every motion of the wearer's body. Thisdefensive armour covered a doublet of coarse grey cloth, and theBorderer had a few half-rusted plates of steel on his shoulders, atwo-edged sword, with a dagger hanging beside it, in a buff belt; ahelmet, with a few iron bars, to cover the face instead of a visor, anda lance of tremendous and uncommon length, completed his appointments.The looks of the man were as wild and rude as his attire: his keenblack eyes never rested one moment fixed upon a single object, butconstantly traversed all around, as if they ever sought some danger tooppose, some plunder to seize, or some insult to revenge. The latterseemed to be his present object, for, regardless of the dignifiedpresence of Lord Lacy, he uttered the most incoherent threats againstthe owner of the house and his guests.
'We shall see--ay, marry shall we--if an English hound is to harbourand reset the Southrons here. Thank the Abbot of Melrose and the goodKnight of Coldingnow that have so long kept me from your skirts. Butthose days are gone, by Saint Mary, and you shall find it!'
It is probable the enraged Borderer would not have long continued tovent his rage in empty menaces, had not the entrance of the four yeomenwith their bows bent convinced him that the force was not at thismoment on his own side.
Lord Lacy now advanced towards him. 'You intrude upon my privacy,soldier; withdraw yourself and your followers. There is peace betwixtour nations, or my servants should chastise thy presumption.'
'Such peace as ye give such shall ye have,' answered the moss-trooper,first pointing with his lance towards the burned village and thenalmost instantly levelling it against Lord Lacy. The squire drew hissword and severed at one blow the steel head from the truncheon of thespear.
'A
rthur Fitzherbert,' said the Baron, 'that stroke has deferred thyknighthood for one year; never must that squire wear the spurs whoseunbridled impetuosity can draw unbidden his sword in the presence ofhis master. Go hence and think on what I have said.'
The squire left the chamber abashed.
'It were vain,' continued Lord Lacy, 'to expect that courtesy from amountain churl which even my own followers can forget. Yet, before thoudrawest thy brand (for the intruder laid his hand upon the hilt of hissword), thou wilt do well to reflect that I came with a safe-conductfrom thy king, and have no time to waste in brawls with such as thou.'
'From MY king--from my king!' re-echoed the mountaineer. 'I care notthat rotten truncheon (striking the shattered spear furiously on theground) for the King of Fife and Lothian. But Habby of Cessford will behere belive; and we shall soon know if he will permit an English churlto occupy his hostelrie.'
Having uttered these words, accompanied with a lowering glance fromunder his shaggy black eyebrows, he turned on his heel and left thehouse with his two followers. They mounted their horses, which they hadtied to an outer fence, and vanished in an instant.
'Who is this discourteous ruffian?' said Lord Lacy to the Franklin, whohad stood in the most violent agitation during this whole scene.
'His name, noble lord, is Adam Kerr of the Moat, but he is commonlycalled by his companions the Black Rider of Cheviot. I fear, I fear, hecomes hither for no good; but if the Lord of Cessford be near, he willnot dare offer any unprovoked outrage.'
'I have heard of that chief,' said the Baron. 'Let me know when heapproaches, and do thou, Rodulph (to the eldest yeoman), keep a strictwatch. Adelbert (to the page), attend to arm me.' The page bowed, andthe Baron withdrew to the chamber of the Lady Isabella to explain thecause of the disturbance.
No more of the proposed tale was ever written; but the Author's purposewas that it should turn upon a fine legend of superstition which iscurrent in the part of the Borders where he had his residence, where,in the reign of Alexander III of Scotland, that renowned person Thomasof Hersildoune, called the Rhymer, actually flourished. This personage,the Merlin of Scotland, and to whom some of the adventures which theBritish bards assigned to Merlin Caledonius, or the Wild, have beentransferred by tradition, was, as is well known, a magician, as well asa poet and prophet. He is alleged still to live in the land of Faery,and is expected to return at some great convulsion of society, in whichhe is to act a distinguished part, a tradition common to all nations,as the belief of the Mahomedans respecting their twelfth Imaumdemonstrates.
Now, it chanced many years since that there lived on the Borders ajolly, rattling horse-cowper, who was remarkable for a reckless andfearless temper, which made him much admired and a little dreadedamongst his neighbours. One moonlight night, as he rode over BowdenMoor, on the west side of the Eildon Hills, the scene of Thomas theRhymer's prophecies, and often mentioned in his story, having a braceof horses along with him which he had not been able to dispose of, hemet a man of venerable appearance and singularly antique dress, who, tohis great surprise, asked the price of his horses, and began to chafferwith him on the subject. To Canobie Dick, for so shall we call ourBorder dealer, a chap was a chap, and he would have sold a horse to thedevil himself, without minding his cloven hoof, and would have probablycheated Old Nick into the bargain. The stranger paid the price theyagreed on, and all that puzzled Dick in the transaction was, that thegold which he received was in unicorns, bonnet-pieces, and otherancient coins, which would have been invaluable to collectors, but wererather troublesome in modern currency. It was gold, however, andtherefore Dick contrived to get better value for the coin than heperhaps gave to his customer. By the command of so good a merchant, hebrought horses to the same spot more than once, the purchaser onlystipulating that he should always come, by night, and alone. I do notknow whether it was from mere curiosity, or whether some hope of gainmixed with it, but after Dick had sold several horses in this way, hebegan to complain that dry bargains were unlucky, and to hint that,since his chap must live in the neighbourhood, he ought, in thecourtesy of dealing, to treat him to half a mutchkin.
'You may see my dwelling if you will,' said the stranger; 'but if youlose courage at what you see there, you will rue it all your life.'
Dicken, however, laughed the warning to scorn, and, having alighted tosecure his horse, he followed the stranger up a narrow foot-path, whichled them up the hills to the singular eminence stuck betwixt the mostsouthern and the centre peaks, and called from its resemblance to suchan animal in its form the Lucken Hare. At the foot of this eminence,which is almost as famous for witch meetings as the neighbouringwind-mill of Kippilaw, Dick was somewhat startled to observe that hisconductor entered the hillside by a passage or cavern, of which hehimself, though well acquainted with the spot, had never seen or heard.
'You may still return,' said his guide, looking ominously back uponhim; but Dick scorned to show the white feather, and on they went. Theyentered a very long range of stables; in every stall stood a coal-blackhorse; by every horse lay a knight in coal-black armour, with a drawnsword in his hand; but all were as silent, hoof and limb, as if theyhad been cut out of marble. A great number of torches lent a gloomylustre to the hall, which, like those of the Caliph Vathek, was oflarge dimensions. At the upper end, however, they at length arrived,where a sword and horn lay on an antique table.
'He that shall sound that horn and draw that sword,' said the stranger,who now intimated that he was the famous Thomas of Hersildoune, 'shall,if his heart fail him not, be king over all broad Britain. So speaksthe tongue that cannot lie. But all depends on courage, and much onyour taking the sword or the horn first.'
Dick was much disposed to take the sword, but his bold spirit wasquailed by the supernatural terrors of the hall, and he thought tounsheath the sword first might be construed into defiance, and giveoffence to the powers of the Mountain. He took the bugle with atrembling hand, and [sounded] a feeble note, but loud enough to producea terrible answer. Thunder rolled in stunning peals through the immensehall; horses and men started to life; the steeds snorted, stamped,grinded their bits, and tossed on high their heads; the warriors sprungto their feet, clashed their armour, and brandished their swords.Dick's terror was extreme at seeing the whole army, which had been solately silent as the grave, in uproar, and about to rush on him. Hedropped the horn, and made a feeble attempt to seize the enchantedsword; but at the same moment a voice pronounced aloud the mysteriouswords:
'Woe to the coward, that ever he was born, Who did not draw the sword before he blew the horn!'
At the same time a whirlwind of irresistible fury howled through thelong hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey clear out of the mouth ofthe cavern, and precipitated him over a steep bank of loose stones,where the shepherds found him the next morning, with just breathsufficient to tell his fearful tale, after concluding which he expired.
This legend, with several variations, is found in many parts ofScotland and England; the scene is sometimes laid in some favouriteglen of the Highlands, sometimes in the deep coal-mines ofNorthumberland and Cumberland, which run so far beneath the ocean. Itis also to be found in Reginald Scott's book on "Witchcraft," which waswritten in the sixteenth century. It would be in vain to ask what wasthe original of the tradition. The choice between the horn and sword,may perhaps, include as a moral that it is foolhardy to awaken dangerbefore we have arms in our hands to resist it.
Although admitting of much poetical ornament, it is clear that thislegend would have formed but an unhappy foundation for a prose story,and must have degenerated into a mere fairy tale. Doctor John Leydenhas beautifully introduced the tradition in his Scenes of Infancy:--
Mysterious Rhymer, doom'd by fate's decree, Still to revisit Eildon's fated tree; Where oft the swain, at dawn of Hallow-day, Hears thy fleet barb with wild impatience neigh; Say who is he, with summons long and high. Shall bid the charmed sleep of ages fly, Roll the long sound through Eildon's
caverns vast, While each dark warrior kindles at the blast: The horn, the falchion grasp with mighty hand, And peal proud Arthur's march from Fairy-land?
Scenes of Infancy, Part I.
In the same cabinet with the preceding fragment, the following occurredamong other disjecta membra. It seems to be an attempt at a tale of adifferent description from the last, but was almost instantlyabandoned. The introduction points out the time of the composition tohave been about the end of the eighteenth century.
THE LORD OF ENNERDALE
A FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM JOHN B----, ESQ., OF THAT ILK, TO WILLIAMG----, F.R.S.E.
'FILL a bumper,' said the Knight; 'the ladies may spare us a littlelonger. Fill a bumper to the Archduke Charles.'
The company did due honour to the toast of their landlord.
'The success of the Archduke,' said the muddy Vicar, 'will tend tofurther our negotiation at Paris; and if--'
'Pardon the interruption, Doctor,' quoth a thin emaciated figure, withsomewhat of a foreign accent; 'but why should you connect those events,unless to hope that the bravery and victories of our allies maysupersede the necessity of a degrading treaty?'
'We begin to feel, Monsieur L'Abbe,' answered the Vicar, with someasperity, 'that a Continental war entered into for the defence of anally who was unwilling to defend himself, and for the restoration of aroyal family, nobility, and priesthood who tamely abandoned their ownrights, is a burden too much even for the resources of this country.'
'And was the war then on the part of Great Britain,' rejoined the Abbe,'a gratuitous exertion of generosity? Was there no fear of thewide-wasting spirit of innovation which had gone abroad? Did not thelaity tremble for their property, the clergy for their religion, andevery loyal heart for the Constitution? Was it not thought necessary todestroy the building which was on fire, ere the conflagration spreadaround the vicinity?'
'Yet, if upon trial,' said the Doctor,' the walls were found to resistour utmost efforts, I see no great prudence in persevering in ourlabour amid the smouldering ruins.'
'What, Doctor,' said the Baronet,'must I call to your recollection yourown sermon on the late general fast? Did you not encourage us to hopethat the Lord of Hosts would go forth with our armies, and that ourenemies, who blasphemed him, should be put to shame?'
'It may please a kind father to chasten even his beloved children,'answered the Vicar.
'I think,' said a gentleman near the foot of the table,'that theCovenanters made some apology of the same kind for the failure of theirprophecies at the battle of Dunbar, when their mutinous preacherscompelled the prudent Lesley to go down against the Philistines inGilgal.'
The Vicar fixed a scrutinizing and not a very complacent eye upon thisintruder. He was a young man, of mean stature, and rather a reservedappearance. Early and severe study had quenched in his features thegaiety peculiar to his age, and impressed upon them a premature cast ofthoughtfulness. His eye had, however, retained its fire, and hisgesture its animation. Had he remained silent, he would have been longunnoticed; but when he spoke there was something in his manner whicharrested attention.
'Who is this young man?' said the Vicar in a low voice to his neighbour.
'A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry,' was the answer.
'I thought so, from his accent and his manners,' said the Vicar.
It may be here observed that the northern English retain rather more ofthe ancient hereditary aversion to their neighbours than theircountrymen of the south. The interference of other disputants, each ofwhom urged his opinion with all the vehemence of wine and politics,rendered the summons to the drawing-room agreeable to the more soberpart of the company.
The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the Vicar and the youngScotchman alone remained, besides the Baronet, his lady, daughters, andmyself. The clergyman had not, it would seem, forgot the observationwhich ranked him with the false prophets of Dunbar, for he addressedMr. Maxwell upon the first opportunity.
'Hem! I think, sir, you mentioned something about the civil wars oflast century? You must be deeply skilled in them, indeed, if you candraw any parallel betwixt those and the present evil days--days whichI am ready to maintain are the most gloomy that ever darkened theprospects of Britain.'
'God forbid, Doctor, that I should draw a comparison between thepresent times and those you mention. I am too sensible of theadvantages we enjoy over our ancestors. Faction and ambition haveintroduced division among us; but we are still free from the guilt ofcivil bloodshed, and from all the evils which flow from it. Our foes,sir, are not those of our own household; and while we continue unitedand firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy, however artful, orhowever inveterate, we have, I hope, little to dread.'
'Have you found anything curious, Mr. Maxwell, among the dusty papers?'said Sir Henry, who seemed to dread a revival of political discussion.
'My investigation amongst them led to reflections at which I have justnow hinted,' said Maxwell; 'and I think they are pretty stronglyexemplified by a story which I have been endeavouring to arrange fromsome of your family manuscripts.'
'You are welcome to make what use of them you please,' said Sir Henry;'they have been undisturbed for many a day, and I have often wished forsome person as well skilled as you in these old pot-hooks to tell metheir meaning.'
'Those I just mentioned,' answered Maxwell, 'relate to a piece ofprivate history, savouring not a little of the marvellous, andintimately connected with your family; if it is agreeable, I can readto you the anecdotes in the modern shape into which I have beenendeavouring to throw them, and you can then judge of the value of theoriginals.'
There was something in this proposal agreeable to all parties. SirHenry had family pride, which prepared him to take an interest inwhatever related to his ancestors. The ladies had dipped deeply intothe fashionable reading of the present day. Lady Ratcliff and her fairdaughters had climbed every pass, viewed every pine-shrouded ruin,heard every groan, and lifted every trap-door in company with the notedheroine of Udolpho. They had been heard, however, to observe that thefamous incident of the Black Veil singularly resembled the ancientapologue of the mountain in labour, so that they were unquestionablycritics as well as admirers. Besides all this, they had valorouslymounted en croupe behind the ghostly horseman of Prague, through allhis seven translators, and followed the footsteps of Moor through theforest of Bohemia. Moreover, it was even hinted (but this was a greatermystery than all the rest) that a certain performance called the'Monk,' in three neat volumes, had been seen by a prying eye in theright hand drawer of the Indian cabinet of Lady Ratcliff'sdressing-room. Thus predisposed for wonders and signs, Lady Ratcliffand her nymphs drew their chairs round a large blazing wood-fire andarranged themselves to listen to the tale. To that fire I alsoapproached, moved thereunto partly by the inclemency of the season, andpartly that my deafness, which you know, cousin, I acquired during mycampaign under Prince Charles Edward, might be no obstacle to thegratification of my curiosity, which was awakened by what had anyreference to the fate of such faithful followers of royalty as you wellknow the house of Ratcliff have ever been. To this wood-fire the Vicarlikewise drew near, and reclined himself conveniently in his chair,seemingly disposed to testify his disrespect for the narration andnarrator by falling asleep as soon as he conveniently could. By theside of Maxwell (by the way, I cannot learn that he is in the leastrelated to the Nithsdale family) was placed a small table and a coupleof lights, by the assistance of which he read as follows:--
'Journal of Jan Van Eulen
'On the 6th November 1645, I, Jan Van Eulen, merchant in Rotterdam,embarked with my only daughter on board of the good vessel Vryheid ofAmsterdam, in order to pass into the unhappy and disturbed kingdom ofEngland. 7th November--a brisk gale--daughter sea-sick--myself unableto complete the calculation which I have begun of the inheritance leftby Jane Lansache of Carlisle, my late dear wife's sister, thecollection of which is the object of my voyage. 8th November--windstill storm
y and adverse--a horrid disaster nearly happened--my dearchild washed overboard as the vessel lurched to leeward. Memorandum--toreward the young sailor who saved her out of the first moneys which Ican recover from the inheritance of her aunt Lansache. 9thNovember--calm--P.M. light breezes from N. N. W. I talked with thecaptain about the inheritance of my sister-in-law, Jane Lansache. Hesays he knows the principal subject, which will not exceed L1000 invalue. N. B. He is a cousin to a family of Petersons, which was thename of the husband of my sister-in-law; so there is room to hope itmay be worth more than he reports. 10th November, 10 A.M. May Godpardon all our sins!--An English frigate, bearing the Parliament flag,has appeared in the offing, and gives chase.--11 A.M. She nears usevery moment, and the captain of our vessel prepares to clear foraction.--May God again have mercy upon us!'
'Here,' said Maxwell, 'the journal with which I have opened thenarration ends somewhat abruptly.'
'I am glad of it,' said Lady Ratcliff.
'But, Mr. Maxwell,' said young Frank, Sir Henry's grandchild, 'shall wenot hear how the battle ended?'
I do not know, cousin, whether I have not formerly made you acquaintedwith the abilities of Frank Ratcliff. There is not a battle foughtbetween the troops of the Prince and of the Government during the years1745-46, of which he is not able to give an account. It is true, I havetaken particular pains to fix the events of this important period uponhis memory by frequent repetition.
'No, my dear,' said Maxwell, in answer to young Frank Ratcliff--'No, mydear, I cannot tell you the exact particulars of the engagement, butits consequences appear from the following letter, despatched byGarbonete Von Eulen, daughter of our journalist, to a relation inEngland, from whom she implored assistance. After some general accountof the purpose of the voyage and of the engagement her narrativeproceeds thus:--
'The noise of the cannon had hardly ceased before the sounds of alanguage to me but half known, and the confusion on board our vessel,informed me that the captors had boarded us and taken possession of ourvessel. I went on deck, where the first spectacle that met my eyes wasa young man, mate of our vessel, who, though disfigured and coveredwith blood, was loaded with irons, and whom they were forcing over theside of the vessel into a boat. The two principal persons among ourenemies appeared to be a man of a tall thin figure, with a high-crownedhat and long neckband, and short-cropped head of hair, accompanied by abluff, open-looking elderly man in a naval uniform. "Yarely! yarely!pull away, my hearts," said the latter, and the boat bearing theunlucky young man soon carried him on board the frigate. Perhaps youwill blame me for mentioning this circumstance; but consider, my dearcousin, this man saved my life, and his fate, even when my own and myfather's were in the balance, could not but affect me nearly.
'"In the name of Him who is jealous, even to slaying," said the first--'
CETERA DESUNT
