by Walter Scott
THE TAPESTRIED CHAMBER;
OR,
THE LADY IN THE SACQUE.
THIS is another little story, from the Keepsake of 1828. It was told tome many years ago, by the late Miss Anna Seward, who, among otheraccomplishments that rendered her an amusing inmate in a country house,had that of recounting narratives of this sort with very considerableeffect; much greater, indeed, than any one would be apt to guess fromthe style of her written performances. There are hours and moods whenmost people are not displeased to listen to such things; and I haveheard some of the greatest and wisest of my contemporaries take theirshare in telling them.
August, 1831.
THE following narrative is given from the pen, so far as memorypermits, in the same character in which it was presented to theauthor's ear; nor has he claim to farther praise, or to be more deeplycensured, than in proportion to the good or bad judgment which he hasemployed in selecting his materials, as he has studiously avoided anyattempt at ornament, which might interfere with the simplicity of thetale.
At the same time, it must be admitted, that the particular class ofstories which turns on the marvellous, possesses a stronger influencewhen told than when committed to print. The volume taken up at noonday,though rehearsing the same incidents, conveys a much more feebleimpression than, is achieved by the voice of the speaker on a circle offireside auditors, who hang upon the narrative as the narrator detailsthe minute incidents which serve to give it authenticity, and lowershis voice with an affectation of mystery while he approaches thefearful and wonderful part. It was with such advantages that thepresent writer heard the following events related, more than twentyyears since, by the celebrated Miss Seward, of Litchfield, who, to hernumerous accomplishments, added, in a remarkable degree, the power ofnarrative in private conversation. In its present form, the tale mustnecessarily lose all the interest which was attached to it, by theflexible voice and intelligent features of the gifted narrator. Yetstill, read aloud, to an undoubting audience by the doubtful light ofthe closing evening, or in silence, by a decaying taper, and amidst thesolitude of a half-lighted apartment, it may redeem its character as agood ghost story. Miss Seward always affirmed that she had derived herinformation from an authentic source, although she suppressed the namesof the two persons chiefly concerned. I will not avail myself of anyparticulars I may have since received concerning the localities of thedetail, but suffer them to rest under the same general description inwhich they were first related to me; and, for the same reason, I willnot add to, or diminish the narrative, by any circumstances, whethermore or less material, but simply rehearse, as I heard it, a story ofsupernatural terror.
About the end of the American war, when the officers of LordCornwallis's army, which surrendered at York-town, and others, who hadbeen made prisoners during the impolitic and ill-fated controversy,were returning to their own country, to relate their adventures, andrepose themselves after their fatigues; there was amongst them ageneral officer, to whom Miss S. gave the name of Browne, but merely,as I understood, to save the inconvenience of introducing a namelessagent in the narrative. He was an officer of merit, as well as agentleman of high consideration for family and attainments.
Some business had carried General Browne upon a tour through thewestern counties, when, in the conclusion of a morning stage, he foundhimself in the vicinity of a small country town, which presented ascene of uncommon beauty, and of a character peculiarly English.
The little town, with its stately church, whose tower bore testimony tothe devotion of ages long past, lay amidst pasture and corn-fields ofsmall extent, but bounded and divided with hedge-row timber of greatage and size. There were few marks of modern improvement. The environsof the place intimated neither the solitude of decay, nor the bustle ofnovelty; the houses were old, but in good repair; and the beautifullittle river murmured freely on its way to the left of the town,neither restrained by a dam, nor bordered by a towing-path.
Upon a gentle eminence, nearly a mile to the southward of the town,were seen, amongst many venerable oaks and tangled thickets, theturrets of a castle, as old as the wars of York and Lancaster, butwhich seemed to have received important alterations during the age ofElizabeth and her successors. It had not been a place of great size;but whatever accommodation it formerly afforded, was, it must besupposed, still to be obtained within its walls; at least, such was theinference which General Browne drew from observing the smoke arisemerrily from several of the ancient wreathed and carved chimney-stalks.The wall of the park ran alongside of the highway for two or threehundred yards; and through the different points by which the eye foundglimpses into the woodland scenery, it seemed to be well stocked. Otherpoints of view opened in succession; now a full one, of the front ofthe old castle, and now a side glimpse at its particular towers; theformer rich in all the bizarrerie of the Elizabethan school, while thesimple arid solid strength of other parts of the building seemed toshow that they had been raised more for defence than ostentation.Delighted with the partial glimpses which he obtained of the castlethrough the woods and glades by which this ancient feudal fortress wassurrounded, our military traveller was determined to inquire whether itmight not deserve a nearer view, and whether it contained familypictures or other objects of curiosity worthy of a stranger's visit;when, leaving the vicinity of the park, he rolled through a clean andwell-paved street, and stopped at the door of a well-frequented inn.
Before ordering horses to proceed on his journey, General Browne madeinquiries concerning the proprietor of the chateau which had soattracted his admiration, and was equally surprised and pleased athearing in reply a nobleman named whom we shall call Lord Woodville.How fortunate! Much of Browne's early recollections, both at school andat college, had been connected with young Woodville, whom, by a fewquestions, he now ascertained to be the same with the owner of thisfair domain. He had been raised to the peerage by the decease of hisfather a few months before, and, as the General learned from thelandlord, the term of mourning being ended, was now taking possessionof his paternal estate, in the jovial season of merry autumn,accompanied by a select party of friends to enjoy the sports of acountry famous for game.
This was delightful news to our traveller. Frank Woodville had beenRichard Browne's fag at Eton, and his chosen intimate at Christ Church;their pleasures and their tasks had been the same; and the honestsoldier's heart warmed to find his early friend in possession of sodelightful a residence, and of an estate, as the landlord assured himwith a nod and a wink, fully adequate to maintain and add to hisdignity. Nothing was more natural than that the traveller shouldsuspend a journey, which there was nothing to render hurried, to pay avisit to an old friend under such agreeable circumstances.
The fresh horses, therefore, had only the brief task of conveying theGeneral's travelling carriage to Woodville Castle. A porter admittedthem at a modern Gothic Lodge, built in that style to correspond withthe Castle itself, and at the same time rang a bell to give warning ofthe approach of visitors. Apparently the sound of the bell hadsuspended the separation of the company, bent on the various amusementsof the morning; for, on entering the court of the chateau, severalyoung men were lounging about in their sporting dresses, looking at,and criticising, the dogs which the keepers held in readiness to attendtheir pastime. As General Browne alighted, the young lord came to thegate of the hall, and for an instant gazed, as at a stranger, upon thecountenance of his friend, on which war, with its fatigues and itswounds, had made a great alteration. But the uncertainty lasted nolonger than till the visitor had spoken, and the hearty greeting whichfollowed was such as can only be exchanged betwixt those who havepassed together the merry days of careless boyhood or early youth.
"If I could have formed a wish, my dear Browne," said Lord Woodville,"it would have been to have you here, of all men, upon this occasion,which my friends are good enough to hold as a sort of holyday. Do notthink you have been unwatched during the years you have been absentfrom us. I have traced you through your dangers, your triumph
s, yourmisfortunes, and was delighted to see that, whether in victory ordefeat, the name of my old friend was always distinguished withapplause."
The General made a suitable reply, and congratulated his friend on hisnew dignities, and the possession of a place and domain so beautiful.
"Nay, you have seen nothing of it as yet," said Lord Woodville, "and Itrust you do not mean to leave us till you are better acquainted withit. It is true, I confess, that my present party is pretty large, andthe old house, like other places of the kind, does not possess so muchaccommodation as the extent of the outward walls appears to promise.But we can give you a comfortable old-fashioned room; and I venture tosuppose that your campaigns have taught you to be glad of worsequarters."
The General shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. "I presume," he said,"the worst apartment in your chateau is considerably superior to theold tobacco-cask, in which I was fain to take up my night's lodgingwhen I was in the Bush, as the Virginians call it, with the lightcorps. There I lay, like Diogenes himself, so delighted with mycovering from the elements, that I made a vain attempt to have itrolled on to my next quarters; but my commander for the time would giveway to no such luxurious provision, and I took farewell of my belovedcask with tears in my eyes."
"Well, then, since you do not fear your quarters," said Lord Woodville,"you will stay with me a week at least. Of guns, dogs, fishing-rods,flies, and means of sport by sea and land, we have enough and to spare:you cannot pitch on an amusement, but we will pitch on the means ofpursuing it. But if you prefer the gun and pointers, I will go with youmyself, and see whether you have mended your shooting since you havebeen amongst the Indians of the back settlements."
The General gladly accepted his friendly host's proposal in all itspoints. After a morning of manly exercise, the company met at dinner,where it was the delight of Lord Woodville to conduce to the display ofthe high properties of his recovered friend, so as to recommend him tohis guests, most of whom were persons of distinction. He led GeneralBrowne to speak of the scenes he had witnessed; and as every wordmarked alike the brave officer and the sensible man, who retainedpossession of his cool judgment under the most imminent dangers, thecompany looked upon the soldier with general respect, as no one who hadproved himself possessed of an uncommon portion of personalcourage--that attribute, of all others, of which every body desires tobe thought possessed.
The day at Woodville Castle ended as usual in such mansions. Thehospitality stopped within the limits of good order; music, in whichthe young lord was a proficient, succeeded to the circulation of thebottle: cards and billiards, for those who preferred such amusements,were in readiness: but the exercise of the morning required earlyhours, and not long after eleven o'clock the guests began to retire totheir several apartments.
The young lord himself conducted his friend, General Browne, to thechamber destined for him, which answered the description he had givenof it, being comfortable, but old-fashioned. The bed was of the massiveform used in the end of the seventeenth century, and the curtains offaded silk, heavily trimmed with tarnished gold. But then the sheets,pillows, and blankets looked delightful to the campaigner, when hethought of his mansion, the cask. There was an air of gloom in thetapestry hangings, which, with their worn-out graces, curtained thewalls of the little chamber, and gently undulated as the autumnalbreeze found its way through the ancient lattice-window, which patteredand whistled as the air gained entrance. The toilet too, with itsmirror, turbaned, after the manner of the beginning of the century,with a coiffure of murrey-coloured silk, and its hundred strange-shapedboxes, providing for arrangements which had been obsolete for more thanfifty years, had an antique, and in so far a melancholy, aspect. Butnothing could blaze more brightly and cheerfully than the two large waxcandles; or if aught could rival them, it was the flaming bickeringfagots in the chimney, that sent at once their gleam and their warmththrough the snug apartment; which, notwithstanding the generalantiquity of its appearance, was not wanting in the least conveniencethat modern habits rendered either necessary or desirable.
"This is an old-fashioned sleeping apartment, General," said the younglord; "but I hope you will find nothing that makes you envy your oldtobacco-cask."
"I am not particular respecting my lodgings," replied the General; "yetwere I to make any choice, I would prefer this chamber by many degrees,to the gayer and more modern rooms of your family mansion. Believe me,that when I unite its modern air of comfort with its venerableantiquity, and recollect that it is your lordship's property, I shallfeel in better quarters here, than if I were in the best hotel Londoncould afford."
"I trust--I have no doubt--that you will find yourself as comfortableas I wish you, my dear General," said the young nobleman; and once morebidding his guest good-night, he shook him by the hand, and withdrew.
The General again looked round him, and internally congratulatinghimself on his return to peaceful life, the comforts of which wereendeared by the recollection of the hardships and dangers he had latelysustained, undressed himself, and prepared himself for a luxuriousnight's rest.
Here, contrary to the custom of this species of tale, we leave theGeneral in possession of his apartment until the next morning.
The company assembled for breakfast at an early hour, but without theappearance of General Browne, who seemed the guest that Lord Woodvillewas desirous of honouring above all whom his hospitality had assembledaround him. He more than once expressed surprise at the General'sabsence, and at length sent a servant to make inquiry after him. Theman brought back information that General Browne had been walkingabroad since an early hour of the morning, in defiance of the weather,which was misty and ungenial.
"The custom of a soldier,"--said the young nobleman to his friends;"many of them acquire habitual vigilance, and cannot sleep after theearly hour at which their duty usually commands them to be alert."
Yet the explanation which Lord Woodville thus offered to the companyseemed hardly satisfactory to his own mind, and it was in a fit ofsilence and abstraction that he awaited the return of the General. Ittook place near an hour after the breakfast bell had rung. He lookedfatigued and feverish. His hair, the powdering and arrangement of whichwas at this time one of the most important occupations of a man's wholeday, and marked his fashion as much as, in the present time, the tyingof a cravat, or the want of one, was dishevelled, uncurled, void ofpowder, and dank with dew. His clothes were huddled on with a carelessnegligence, remarkable in a military man, whose real or supposed dutiesare usually held to include some attention to the toilet; and his lookswere haggard and ghastly in a peculiar degree.
"So you have stolen a march upon us this morning, my dear General,"said Lord Woodville; "or you have not found your bed so much to yourmind as I had hoped and you seemed to expect. How did you rest lastnight?"
"Oh, excellently well! remarkably well! never better in my life"--saidGeneral Browne rapidly, and yet with an air of embarrassment which wasobvious to his friend. He then hastily swallowed a cup of tea, andneglecting or refusing whatever else was offered, seemed to fall into afit of abstraction.
"You will take the gun to-day, General;" said his friend and host, buthad to repeat the question twice ere he received the abrupt answer,"No, my lord; I am sorry I cannot have the honour of spending anotherday with your lordship; my post horses are ordered, and will be heredirectly."
All who were present showed surprise, and Lord Woodville immediatelyreplied, "Post horses, my good friend! what can you possibly want withthem, when you promised to stay with me quietly for at least a week?"
"I believe," said the General, obviously much embarrassed, "that Imight, in the pleasure of my first meeting with your lordship, havesaid something about stopping here a few days; but I have since foundit altogether impossible."
"That is very extraordinary," answered the young nobleman. "You seemedquite disengaged yesterday, and you cannot have had a summons to-day;for our post has not come up from the town, and therefore you cannothave received any lette
rs."
General Browne, without giving any farther explanation, mutteredsomething of indispensable business, and insisted on the absolutenecessity of his departure in a manner which silenced all opposition onthe part of his host, who saw that his resolution was taken, andforbore farther importunity.
"At least, however," he said, "permit me, my dear Browne, since go youwill or must, to show you the view from the terrace, which the mist,that is now rising, will soon display."
He threw open a sash window, and stepped down upon the terrace as hespoke. The General followed him mechanically, but seemed little toattend to what his host was saying, as, looking across an extended andrich prospect, he pointed out the different objects worthy ofobservation. Thus they moved on till Lord Woodville had attained hispurpose of drawing his guest entirely apart from the rest of thecompany, when, turning round upon him with an air of great solemnity,he addressed him thus:
"Richard Browne, my old and very dear friend, we are now alone. Let meconjure you to answer me upon the word of a friend, and the honour of asoldier. How did you in reality rest during last night?"
"Most wretchedly indeed, my lord," answered the General, in the sametone of solemnity;--"so miserably, that I would not run the risk ofsuch a second night, not only for all the lands belonging to thiscastle, but for all the country which I see from this elevated point ofview."
"This is most extraordinary," said the young lord, as if speaking tohimself; "then there must be something in the reports concerning thatapartment." Again turning to the General, he said, "For God's sake, mydear friend, be candid with me, and let me know the disagreeableparticulars, which have befallen you under a roof, where, with consentof the owner, you should have met nothing save comfort."
The General seemed distressed by this appeal, and paused a momentbefore he replied. "My dear lord," he at length said, "what happened tome last night is of a nature so peculiar and so unpleasant, that Icould hardly bring myself to detail it even to your lordship, were itnot that, independent of my wish to gratify any request of yours, Ithink that sincerity on my part may lead to some explanation about acircumstance equally painful and mysterious. To others, thecommunication I am about to make, might place me in the light of aweak-minded, superstitious fool who suffered his own imagination todelude and bewilder him; but you have known me in childhood and youth,and will not suspect me of having adopted in manhood the feelings andfrailties from which my early years were free." Here he paused, and hisfriend replied:
"Do not doubt my perfect confidence in the truth of your communication,however strange it may be," replied Lord Woodville; "I know yourfirmness of disposition too well, to suspect you could be made theobject of imposition, and am aware that your honour and your friendshipwill equally deter you from exaggerating whatever you may havewitnessed."
"Well then," said the General, "I will proceed with my story as well asI can, relying upon your candour; and yet distinctly feeling that Iwould rather face a battery than recall to my mind the odiousrecollection's of last night."
He paused a second time, and then perceiving that Lord Woodvilleremained silent and in an attitude of attention, he commenced, thoughnot without obvious reluctance, the history of his night's adventuresin the Tapestried Chamber.
"I undressed and went to bed, so soon as your lordship left meyesterday evening; but the wood in the chimney, which nearly fronted mybed, blazed brightly and cheerfully, and, aided by a hundred excitingrecollections of my childhood and youth, which had been recalled by theunexpected pleasure of meeting your lordship, prevented me from fallingimmediately asleep. I ought, however, to say, that these reflectionswere all of a pleasant and agreeable kind, grounded on a sense ofhaving for a time exchanged the labour, fatigues, and dangers of myprofession, for the enjoyments of a peaceful life, and the reunion ofthose friendly and affectionate ties, which I had torn asunder at therude summons of war.
"While such pleasing reflections were stealing over my mind, andgradually lulling me to slumber, I was suddenly aroused by a sound likethat of the rustling of a silken gown, and the tapping of a pair ofhigh-heeled shoes, as if a woman were walking in the apartment. Ere Icould draw the curtain to see what the matter was, the figure of alittle woman passed between the bed and the fire. The back of this formwas turned to me, and I could observe, from the shoulders and neck, itwas that of an old woman, whose dress was an old-fashioned gown, which,I think, ladies call a sacque; that is, a sort of robe, completelyloose in the body, but gathered into broad plaits upon the neck andshoulders, which fall down to the ground, and terminate in a species oftrain.
"I thought the intrusion singular enough, but never harboured for amoment the idea that what I saw was any thing more than the mortal formof some old woman about the establishment, who had a fancy to dresslike her grandmother, and who, having perhaps (as your lordshipmentioned that you were rather straitened for room) been dislodged fromher chamber for my accommodation, had forgotten the circumstance, andreturned by twelve to her old haunt. Under this persuasion I movedmyself in bed and coughed a little, to make the intruder sensible of mybeing in possession of the premises.--She turned slowly round, butgracious heaven! my lord, what a countenance did she display to me!There was no longer any question what she was, or any thought of herbeing a living being. Upon a face which wore the fixed features of acorpse, were imprinted the traces of the vilest and most hideouspassions which had animated her while she lived. The body of someatrocious criminal seemed to have been given up from the grave, and thesoul restored from the penal fire, in order to form, for a space, aunion with the ancient accomplice of its guilt. I started up in bed,and sat upright, supporting myself on my palms, as I gazed on thishorrible spectre. The hag made, as it seemed, a single and swift strideto the bed where I lay, and squatted herself down upon it, in preciselythe same attitude which I had assumed in the extremity of horror,advancing her diabolical countenance within half a yard of mine, with agrin which seemed to intimate the malice and the derision of anincarnate fiend."
Here General Browne stopped, and wiped from his brow the coldperspiration with which the recollection of his horrible vision hadcovered it.
"My lord," he said, "I am no coward. I have been in all the mortaldangers incidental to my profession, and I may truly boast, that no manever knew Richard Browne dishonour the sword he wears; but in thesehorrible circumstances, under the eyes, and as it seemed, almost in thegrasp of an incarnation of an evil spirit, all firmness forsook me, allmanhood melted from me like wax in the furnace, and I felt my hairindividually bristle. The current of my life-blood ceased to flow, andI sank back in a swoon, as very a victim to panic terror as ever was avillage girl, or a child of ten years old. How long I lay in thiscondition I cannot pretend to guess.
"But I was roused by the castle clock striking one, so loud that itseemed as if it were in the very room. It was some time before I daredopen my eyes, lest they should again encounter the horrible spectacle.When, however, I summoned courage to look up, she was no longervisible. My first idea was to pull my bell, wake the servants, andremove to a garret or a hay-loft, to be ensured against a secondvisitation. Nay, I will confess the truth, that my resolution wasaltered, not by the shame of exposing myself, but by the fear that, asthe bell-cord hung by the chimney, I might, in making my way to it, beagain crossed by the fiendish hag, who, I figured to myself, might bestill lurking about some corner of the apartment.
"I will not pretend to describe what hot and cold fever-fits tormentedme for the rest of the night, through broken sleep, weary vigils, andthat dubious state which forms the neutral ground between them. Ahundred terrible objects appeared to haunt me; but there was the greatdifference betwixt the vision which I have described, and those whichfollowed, that I knew the last to be deceptions of my own fancy andover-excited nerves.
"Day at last appeared, and I rose from my bed ill in health, andhumiliated in mind. I was ashamed of myself as a man and a soldier, andstill more so, at feeling my own extreme desire to escape from thehau
nted apartment, which, however, conquered all other considerations;so that, huddling on my clothes with the most careless haste, I made myescape from your lordship's mansion, to seek in the open air somerelief to my nervous system, shaken as it was by this horribleencounter with a visitant, for such I must believe her, from the otherworld. Your lordship has now heard the cause of my discomposure, and ofmy sudden desire to leave your hospitable castle. In other places Itrust we may often meet; but God protect me from ever spending a secondnight under that roof!"
Strange as the General's tale was, he spoke with such a deep air ofconviction, that it cut short all the usual commentaries which are madeon such stories. Lord Woodville never once asked him if he was sure hedid not dream of the apparition, or suggested any of the possibilitiesby which it is fashionable to explain supernatural appearances, as wildvagaries of the fancy, or deceptions of the optic nerves. On thecontrary, he seemed deeply impressed with the truth and reality of whathe had heard; and, after a considerable pause, regretted, with muchappearance of sincerity, that his early friend should in his house havesuffered so severely.
"I am the more sorry for your pain, my dear Browne," he continued,"that it is the unhappy, though most unexpected, result of anexperiment of my own! You must know, that for my father andgrandfather's time, at least, the apartment which was assigned to youlast night, had been shut on account of reports that it was disturbedby supernatural sights and noises. When I came, a few weeks since, intopossession of the estate, I thought the accommodation, which the castleafforded for my friends, was not extensive enough to permit theinhabitants of the invisible world to retain possession of acomfortable sleeping apartment. I therefore caused the TapestriedChamber, as we call it, to be opened; and without destroying its air ofantiquity, I had such new articles of furniture placed in it as becamethe modern times. Yet as the opinion that the room was haunted verystrongly prevailed among the domestics, and was also known in theneighbourhood and to many of my friends, I feared some prejudice mightbe entertained by the first occupant of the Tapestried Chamber, whichmight tend to revive the evil report which it had laboured under, andso disappoint my purpose of rendering it a useful part of the house. Imust confess, my dear Browne, that your arrival yesterday, agreeable tome for a thousand reasons besides, seemed the most favourableopportunity of removing the unpleasant rumours which attached to theroom, since your courage was indubitable and your mind free of anypre-occupation on the subject. I could not, therefore, have chosen amore fitting subject for my experiment."
"Upon my life," said General Browne, somewhat hastily, "I am infinitelyobliged to your lordship--very particularly indebted indeed. I amlikely to remember for some time the consequences of the experiment, asyour lordship is pleased to call it."
"Nay, now you are unjust, my dear friend," said Lord Woodville. "Youhave only to reflect for a single moment, in order to be convinced thatI could not augur the possibility of the pain to which you have been sounhappily exposed. I was yesterday morning a complete sceptic on thesubject of supernatural appearances. Nay, I am sure that had I told youwhat was said about that room, those very reports would have inducedyou, by your own choice, to select it for your accommodation. It was mymisfortune, perhaps my error, but really cannot be termed my fault,that you have been afflicted so strangely."
"Strangely indeed!" said the General, resuming his good temper; "and Iacknowledge that I have no right to be offended with your lordship fortreating me like what I used to think myself--a man of some firmnessand courage.--But I see my post horses are arrived, and I must notdetain your lordship from your amusement."
"Nay, my old friend," said Lord Woodville, "since you cannot stay withus another day, which, indeed, I can no longer urge, give me at leasthalf an hour more. You used to love pictures, and I have a gallery ofportraits, some of them by Vandyke, representing ancestry to whom thisproperty and castle formerly belonged. I think that several of themwill strike you as possessing merit."
General Browne accepted the invitation, though somewhat unwillingly. Itwas evident he was not to breathe freely or at ease till he leftWoodville Castle far behind him. He could not refuse his friend'sinvitation, however; and the less so, that he was a little ashamed ofthe peevishness which he had displayed towards his well-meaningentertainer.
The General, therefore, followed Lord Woodville through several rooms,into a long gallery hung with pictures, which the latter pointed out tohis guest, telling the names, and giving some account of the personageswhose portraits presented themselves in progression. General Browne wasbut little interested in the details which these accounts conveyed tohim. They were, indeed, of the kind which are usually found in an oldfamily gallery. Here was a cavalier who had ruined the estate in theroyal cause; there a fine lady who had reinstated it by contracting amatch with a wealthy Roundhead. There hung a gallant who had been indanger for corresponding with the exiled Court at St. Germain's; hereone who had taken arms for William at the Revolution; and there a thirdthat had thrown his weight alternately into the scale of whig and tory.
While Lord Woodville was cramming these words into his guest's ear,"against the stomach of his sense," they gained the middle of thegallery, when he beheld General Browne suddenly start, and assume anattitude of the utmost surprise, not unmixed with fear, as his eyeswere caught and suddenly riveted by a portrait of an old lady in asacque, the fashionable dress of the end of the seventeenth century.
"There she is!" he exclaimed; "there she is, in form and features,though inferior in demoniac expression, to the accursed hag who visitedme last night."
"If that be the case," said the young nobleman, "there can remain nolonger any doubt of the horrible reality of your apparition. That isthe picture of a wretched ancestress of mine, of whose crimes a blackand fearful catalogue is recorded in a family history in mycharter-chest. The recital of them would be too horrible; it is enoughto say, that in yon fatal apartment incest and unnatural murder werecommitted. I will restore it to the solitude, to which the betterjudgment of those who preceded me had consigned it; and never shall anyone, so long as I can prevent it, be exposed to a repetition of thesupernatural horrors which could shake such courage as yours."
Thus the friends, who had met with such glee, parted in a verydifferent mood; Lord Woodville to command the Tapestried Chamber to beunmantled, and the door built up; and General Browne to seek in someless beautiful country, and with some less dignified friend,forgetfulness of the painful night which he had passed in WoodvilleCastle.
DEATH OF THE LAIRD'S JOCK.
[The manner in which this trifle was introduced at the time to Mr. F.M.Reynolds, editor of the Keepsake of 1828, leaves no occasion for apreface.] _August_, 1831.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KEEPSAKE.
You have asked me, sir, to point out a subject for the pencil, and Ifeel the difficulty of complying with your request; although I am notcertainly unaccustomed to literary composition, or a total stranger tothe stores of history and tradition, which afford the best copies forthe painter's art. But although _sicut pictura poesis_ is an ancientand undisputed axiom--although poetry and painting both addressthemselves to the same object of exciting the human imagination, bypresenting to it pleasing or sublime images of ideal scenes; yet theone conveying itself through the ears to the understanding, and theother applying itself only to the eyes, the subjects which are bestsuited to the bard or tale-teller are often totally unfit for painting,where the artist must present in a single glance all that his art haspower to tell us. The artist can neither recapitulate the past norintimate the future. The single _now_ is all which he can present; andhence, unquestionably, many subjects which delight us in poetry, or innarrative, whether real or fictitious, cannot with advantage betransferred to the canvass.
Being in some degree aware of these difficulties, though doubtlessunacquainted both with their extent, and the means by which they may bemodified or surmounted, I have, nevertheless, ventured to draw up thefollowing traditional narrative as a story in which, when th
e generaldetails are known, the interest is so much concentrated in one strongmoment of agonizing passion, that it can be understood, and sympathizedwith, at a single glance. I therefore presume that it may be acceptableas a hint to some one among the numerous artists, who have of lateyears distinguished themselves as rearing up and supporting the Britishschool.
Enough has been said and sung about
The well-contested ground, The warlike border-land--
to render the habits of the tribes who inhabited them before the unionof England and Scotland familiar to most of your readers. The rougherand sterner features of their character were softened by theirattachment to the fine arts, from which has arisen the saying that, onthe frontiers every dale had its battle, and every river its song. Arude species of chivalry was in constant use, and single combats werepractised as the amusement of the few intervals of truce whichsuspended the exercise of war. The inveteracy of this custom may beinferred from the following incident:--
Bernard Gilpin, the apostle of the north, the first who undertook topreach the Protestant doctrines to the Border dalesmen, was surprised,on entering one of their churches, to see a gauntlet, or mail-glove,hanging above the altar. Upon inquiring the meaning of a symbol soindecorous being displayed in that sacred place, he was informed by theclerk, that the glove was that of a famous swordsman who hung it thereas an emblem of a general challenge and gage of battle, to any whoshould dare to take the fatal token down. "Reach it to me," said thereverend churchman. The clerk and sexton equally declined the perilousoffice: and the good Bernard Gilpin was obliged to remove the glovewith his own hands, desiring those who were present to inform thechampion, that he, and no other, had possessed himself of the gage ofdefiance. But the champion was as much ashamed to face Bernard Gilpinas the officials of the church had been to displace his pledge ofcombat.
The date of the following story is about the latter years of QueenElizabeth's reign; and the events took place in Liddesdale, a hilly andpastoral district of Roxburghshire, which, on a part of its boundary,is divided from England only by a small river;
During the good old times of _rugging and riving_, (that is, tuggingand tearing,) under which term the disorderly doings of the warlike ageare affectionately remembered, this valley was principally cultivatedby the sept or clan of the Armstrongs. The chief of this warlike racewas the Laird of Mangertown. At the period of which I speak, the estateof Mangertown, with the power and dignity of chief, was possessed byJohn Armstrong, a man of great size, strength and courage. While hisfather was alive, he was distinguished from others of his clan who borethe same name by the epithet of the _Laird's Jock_, that is to say, theLaird's son Jock, or Jack. This name he distinguished by so many boldand desperate achievements, that he retained it even after his father'sdeath, and is mentioned under it both in authentic records and intradition. Some of his feats are recorded in the Minstrelsy of theScottish Border, and others mentioned in contemporary chronicles.
At the species of singular combat which we have described, the Laird'sJock was unrivalled; and no champion of Cumberland, Westmoreland, orNorthumberland, could endure the sway of the huge two-handed swordwhich he wielded, and which few others could even lift. This "awfulsword," as the common people term it, was as dear to him as Durindanaor Fushberta to their respective masters, and was nearly as formidableto his enemies as those renowned falchions proved to the foes ofChristendom. The weapon had been bequeathed to him by a celebratedEnglish outlaw named Hobbie Noble, who, having committed some deed forwhich he was in danger from justice, fled to Liddesdale, and became afollower, or rather a brother-in-arms, to the renowned Laird's Jock;till, venturing into England with a small escort, a faithless guide,and with a light single-handed sword instead of his ponderous brand,Hobbie Noble, attacked by superior numbers, was made prisoner andexecuted.
With this weapon, and by means of his own strength and address, theLaird's Jock maintained the reputation of the best swordsman on theBorder side, and defeated or slew many who ventured to dispute with himthe formidable title.
But years pass on with the strong and the brave as with the feeble andthe timid. In process of time, the Laird's Jock grew incapable ofwielding his weapon, and finally of all active exertion, even of themost ordinary kind. The disabled champion became at length totallybed-ridden, and entirely dependent for his comfort on the pious dutiesof an only daughter, his perpetual attendant and companion.
Besides this dutiful child, the Laird's Jock had an only son, upon whomdevolved the perilous task of leading the clan to battle, andmaintaining the warlike renown of his native country, which was nowdisputed by the English upon many occasions. The young Armstrong wasactive, brave, and strong, and brought home from dangerous adventuresmany tokens of decided success. Still the ancient chief conceived, asit would seem, that his son was scarce yet entitled by age andexperience to be entrusted with the two-handed sword, by the use ofwhich he had himself been so dreadfully distinguished.
At length, an English champion, one of the name of Foster, (if Irightly recollect,) had the audacity to send a challenge to the bestswordsman in, Liddesdale; and young Armstrong, burning for chivalrousdistinction, accepted the challenge.
The heart of the disabled old man swelled with joy when he heard thatthe challenge was passed and accepted, and the meeting fixed at aneutral spot, used as the place of rencontre upon such occasions, andwhich he himself had distinguished by numerous victories. He exulted somuch in the conquest which he anticipated, that, to nerve his son tostill bolder exertions, he conferred upon him, as champion of his clanand province, the celebrated weapon which he had hitherto retained inhis own custody.
This was not all. When the day of combat arrived, the Laird's Jock, inspite of his daughter's affectionate remonstrances, determined, thoughhe had not left his bed for two years, to be a personal witness of theduel. His will was still a law to his people, who bore him on theirshoulders, wrapped in plaids and blankets, to the spot where the combatwas to take place, and seated him on a fragment of rock, which is stillcalled the Laird's Jock's stone. There he remained with eyes fixed onthe lists or barrier, within which the champions were about to meet.His daughter, having done all she could for his accommodation, stoodmotionless beside him, divided between anxiety for his health, and forthe event of the combat to her beloved brother. Ere yet the fightbegan, the old men gazed on their chief, now seen for the first timeafter several years, and sadly compared his altered features and wastedframe, with the paragon of strength and manly beauty which they onceremembered. The young men gazed on his large form and powerful make, asupon some antediluvian giant who had survived the destruction of theFlood.
But the sound of the trumpets on both sides recalled the attention ofevery one to the lists, surrounded as they were by numbers of bothnations eager to witness the event of the day. The combatants met. Itis needless to describe the struggle: the Scottish champion fell.Foster, placing his foot on his antagonist, seized on the redoubtedsword, so precious in the eyes of its aged owner, and brandished itover his head as a trophy of his conquest. The English shouted intriumph. But the despairing cry of the aged champion, who saw hiscountry dishonoured, and his sword, long the terror of their race, inpossession of an Englishman, was heard high above the acclamations ofvictory. He seemed, for an instant, animated by all his wonted power;for he started from the rock on which he sat, and while the garmentswith which he had been invested fell from his wasted frame, and showedthe ruins of his strength, he tossed his arms wildly to heaven, anduttered a cry of indignation, horror, and despair, which, traditionsays, was heard to a preternatural distance, and resembled the cry of adying lion more than a human sound.
His friends received him in their arms as he sank utterly exhausted bythe effort, and bore him back to his castle in mute sorrow; while hisdaughter at once wept for her brother, and endeavoured to mitigate andsoothe the despair of her father. But this was impossible; the oldman's only tie to life was rent rudely asunder, and his heart hadbroken with it. The
death of his son had no part in his sorrow. If hethought of him at all, it was as the degenerate boy, through whom thehonour of his country and clan had been lost; and he died in the courseof three days, never even mentioning his name, but pouring outuninterrupted lamentations for the loss of his sword.
I conceive, that the instant when the disabled chief was roused into alast exertion by the agony of the moment is favourable to the object ofa painter. He might obtain the full advantage of contrasting the formof the rugged old man, in the extremity of furious despair, with thesoftness and beauty of the female form. The fatal field might be throwninto perspective, so as to give full effect to these two principalfigures, and with the single explanation that the piece represented asoldier beholding his son slain, and the honour of his country lost,the picture would be sufficiently intelligible at the first glance. Ifit was thought necessary to show more clearly the nature of theconflict, it might be indicated by the pennon of Saint George beingdisplayed at one end of the lists, and that of Saint Andrew at theOther.
I remain, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.
END OF THE WAVERLEY NOVELS.