by Walter Scott
APPENDICES TO THE GENERAL PREFACE
NO. I
FRAGMENT [Footnote: It is not to be supposed that these fragmentsare given in possessing any intrinsic value of themselves; butthere may be some curiosity attached to them, as to the firstetchings of a plate, which are accounted interesting by those whohave, in any degree, been interested in the more finished works ofthe artist.] OF A ROMANCE WHICH WAS TO HAVE BEEN ENTITLED
THOMAS THE RHYMER
CHAPTER I
THE sun was nearly set behind the distant mountains of Liddesdale,when a few of the scattered and terrified inhabitants of thevillage of Hersildoune, which had four days before been burned bya predatory band of English Borderers, were now busied inrepairing their ruined dwellings. One high tower in the centre ofthe village alone exhibited no appearance of devastation. It wassurrounded with court walls, and the outer gate was barred andbolted. The bushes and brambles which grew around, and had eveninsinuated their branches beneath the gate, plainly showed that itmust have been many years since it had been opened. While thecottages around lay in smoking ruins, this pile, deserted anddesolate as it seemed to be, had suffered nothing from theviolence of the invaders; and the wretched beings who wereendeavouring to repair their miserable huts against nightfallseemed to neglect the preferable shelter which it might haveafforded them without the necessity of labour.
Before the day had quite gone down, a knight, richly armed andmounted upon an ambling hackney, rode slowly into the village. Hisattendants were a lady, apparently young and beautiful, who rodeby his side upon a dappled palfrey; his squire, who carried hishelmet and lance, and led his battlehorse, a noble steed, richlycaparisoned. A page and four yeomen bearing bows and quivers,short swords, and targets of a span breadth, completed hisequipage, which, though small, denoted him to be a man of highrank.
He stopped and addressed several of the inhabitants whom curiosityhad withdrawn from their labour to gaze at him; but at the soundof his voice, and still more on perceiving the St. George's Crossin the caps of his followers, they fled, with a loud cry, 'thatthe Southrons were returned.' The knight endeavoured toexpostulate with the fugitives, who were chiefly aged men, women,and children; but their dread of the English name acceleratedtheir flight, and in a few minutes, excepting the knight and hisattendants, the place was deserted by all. He paced through thevillage to seek a shelter for the night, and, despairing to findone either in the inaccessible tower or the plundered huts of thepeasantry, he directed his course to the left hand, where he spieda small decent habitation, apparently the abode of a manconsiderably above the common rank. After much knocking, theproprietor at length showed himself at the window, and speaking inthe English dialect, with great signs of apprehension, demandedtheir business. The warrior replied that his quality was anEnglish knight and baron, and that he was travelling to the courtof the King of Scotland on affairs of consequence to bothkingdoms.
'Pardon my hesitation, noble Sir Knight,' said the old man, as heunbolted and unbarred his doors--'Pardon my hesitation, but we arehere exposed to too many intrusions to admit of our exercisingunlimited and unsuspicious hospitality. What I have is yours; andGod send your mission may bring back peace and the good days ofour old Queen Margaret!'
'Amen, worthy Franklin,' quoth the Knight--'Did you know her?'
'I came to this country in her train,' said the Franklin; 'and thecare of some of her jointure lands which she devolved on meoccasioned my settling here.'
'And how do you, being an Englishman,' said the Knight, 'protectyour life and property here, when one of your nation cannot obtaina single night's lodging, or a draught of water were he thirsty?'
'Marry, noble sir,' answered the Franklin, 'use, as they say, willmake a man live in a lion's den; and as I settled here in a quiettime, and have never given cause of offence, I am respected by myneighbours, and even, as you see, by our FORAYERS from England.'
'I rejoice to hear it, and accept your hospitality. Isabella, mylove, our worthy host will provide you a bed. My daughter, goodFranklin, is ill at ease. We will occupy your house till theScottish King shall return from his northern expedition; meanwhilecall me Lord Lacy of Chester.'
The attendants of the Baron, assisted by the Franklin, were nowbusied in disposing of the horses, and arranging the table forsome refreshment for Lord Lacy and his fair companion. While theysat down to it, they were attended by their host and his daughter,whom custom did not permit to eat in their presence, and whoafterwards withdrew to an outer chamber, where the squire and page(both young men of noble birth) partook of supper, and wereaccommodated with beds. The yeomen, after doing honour to therustic cheer of Queen Margaret's bailiff, withdrew to the stable,and each, beside his favourite horse, snored away the fatigues oftheir journey.
Early on the following morning the travellers were roused by athundering knocking at the door of the house, accompanied withmany demands for instant admission in the roughest tone. Thesquire and page of Lord Lacy, after buckling on their arms, wereabout to sally out to chastise these intruders, when the old host,after looking out at a private casement, contrived forreconnoitring his visitors, entreated them, with great signs ofterror, to be quiet, if they did not mean that all in the houseshould be murdered.
He then hastened to the apartment of Lord Lacy, whom he metdressed in a long furred gown and the knightly cap called aMORTIER, irritated at the noise, and demanding to know the causewhich had disturbed the repose of the household.
'Noble sir,' said the Franklin, 'one of the most formidable andbloody of the Scottish Border riders is at hand; he is neverseen,' added he, faltering with terror, 'so far from the hills butwith some bad purpose, and the power of accomplishing it; so holdyourself to your guard, for--'
A loud crash here announced that the door was broken down, and theknight just descended the stair in time to prevent bloodshedbetwixt his attendants and the intruders. They were three innumber; their chief was tall, bony, and athletic, his spare andmuscular frame, as well as the hardness of his features, markedthe course of his life to have been fatiguing and perilous. Theeffect of his appearance was aggravated by his dress, whichconsisted of a jack or jacket, composed of thick buff leather, onwhich small plates of iron of a lozenge form were stitched in sucha manner as to overlap each other and form a coat of mail, whichswayed with every motion of the wearer's body. This defensivearmour covered a doublet of coarse grey cloth, and the Bordererhad a few half-rusted plates of steel on his shoulders, a two-edged sword, with a dagger hanging beside it, in a buff belt; ahelmet, with a few iron bars, to cover the face instead of avisor, and a lance of tremendous and uncommon length, completedhis appointments. The looks of the man were as wild and rude ashis attire: his keen black eyes never rested one moment fixed upona single object, but constantly traversed all around, as if theyever sought some danger to oppose, some plunder to seize, or someinsult to revenge. The latter seemed to be his present object,for, regardless of the dignified presence of Lord Lacy, he utteredthe most incoherent threats against the owner of the house and hisguests.
'We shall see--ay, marry shall we--if an English hound is toharbour and reset the Southrons here. Thank the Abbot of Melroseand the good Knight of Coldingnow that have so long kept me fromyour skirts. But those days are gone, by Saint Mary, and you shallfind it!'
It is probable the enraged Borderer would not have long continuedto vent his rage in empty menaces, had not the entrance of thefour yeomen with their bows bent convinced him that the force wasnot at this moment on his own side.
Lord Lacy now advanced towards him. 'You intrude upon my privacy,soldier; withdraw yourself and your followers. There is peacebetwixt our nations, or my servants should chastise thypresumption.'
'Such peace as ye give such shall ye have,' answered the moss-trooper, first pointing with his lance towards the burned villageand then almost instantly levelling it against Lord Lacy. Thesquire drew his sword and severed at one blow the steel head fromthe truncheon of the spear.
'Arthur Fi
tzherbert,' said the Baron, 'that stroke has deferredthy knighthood for one year; never must that squire wear the spurswhose unbridled impetuosity can draw unbidden his sword in thepresence of his 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 froma mountain churl which even my own followers can forget. Yet,before thou drawest thy brand (for the intruder laid his hand uponthe hilt of his sword), thou wilt do well to reflect that I camewith a safe-conduct from thy king, and have no time to waste inbrawls with such as thou.'
'From MY king--from my king!' re-echoed the mountaineer. 'I carenot that rotten truncheon (striking the shattered spear furiouslyon the ground) for the King of Fife and Lothian. But Habby ofCessford will be here belive; and we shall soon know if he willpermit an English churl to occupy his hostelrie.'
Having uttered these words, accompanied with a lowering glancefrom under his shaggy black eyebrows, he turned on his heel andleft the house with his two followers. They mounted their horses,which they had tied to an outer fence, and vanished in an instant.
'Who is this discourteous ruffian?' said Lord Lacy to theFranklin, who had stood in the most violent agitation during thiswhole scene.
'His name, noble lord, is Adam Kerr of the Moat, but he iscommonly called by his companions the Black Rider of Cheviot. Ifear, I fear, he comes hither for no good; but if the Lord ofCessford be near, he will not 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 astrict watch. Adelbert (to the page), attend to arm me.' The pagebowed, and the Baron withdrew to the chamber of the Lady Isabellato explain the cause of the disturbance.
No more of the proposed tale was ever written; but the Author'spurpose was that it should turn upon a fine legend of superstitionwhich is current in the part of the Borders where he had hisresidence, where, in the reign of Alexander III of Scotland, thatrenowned person Thomas of Hersildoune, called the Rhymer, actuallyflourished. This personage, the Merlin of Scotland, and to whomsome of the adventures which the British bards assigned to MerlinCaledonius, or the Wild, have been transferred by tradition, was,as is well known, a magician, as well as a poet and prophet. He isalleged still to live in the land of Faery, and is expected toreturn at some great convulsion of society, in which he is to acta distinguished part, a tradition common to all nations, as thebelief 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 recklessand fearless temper, which made him much admired and a littledreaded amongst his neighbours. One moonlight night, as he rodeover Bowden Moor, on the west side of the Eildon Hills, the sceneof Thomas the Rhymer's prophecies, and often mentioned in hisstory, having a brace of horses along with him which he had notbeen able to dispose of, he met a man of venerable appearance andsingularly antique dress, who, to his great surprise, asked theprice of his horses, and began to chaffer with him on the subject.To Canobie Dick, for so shall we call our Border dealer, a chapwas a chap, and he would have sold a horse to the devil himself,without minding his cloven hoof, and would have probably cheatedOld Nick into the bargain. The stranger paid the price they agreedon, 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, butwere rather troublesome in modern currency. It was gold, however,and therefore Dick contrived to get better value for the coin thanhe perhaps gave to his customer. By the command of so good amerchant, he brought horses to the same spot more than once, thepurchaser only stipulating that he should always come, by night,and alone. I do not know whether it was from mere curiosity, orwhether some hope of gain mixed with it, but after Dick had soldseveral horses in this way, he began to complain that dry bargainswere unlucky, and to hint that, since his chap must live in theneighbourhood, he ought, in the courtesy of dealing, to treat himto half a mutchkin.
'You may see my dwelling if you will,' said the stranger; 'but ifyou lose courage at what you see there, you will rue it all yourlife.'
Dicken, however, laughed the warning to scorn, and, havingalighted to secure his horse, he followed the stranger up a narrowfoot-path, which led them up the hills to the singular eminencestuck betwixt the most southern and the centre peaks, and calledfrom its resemblance to such an animal in its form the LuckenHare. At the foot of this eminence, which is almost as famous forwitch meetings as the neighbouring wind-mill of Kippilaw, Dick wassomewhat startled to observe that his conductor entered thehillside by a passage or cavern, of which he himself, though wellacquainted with the spot, had never seen or heard.
'You may still return,' said his guide, looking ominously backupon him; but Dick scorned to show the white feather, and on theywent. They entered a very long range of stables; in every stallstood a coal-black horse; by every horse lay a knight in coal-black armour, with a drawn sword in his hand; but all were assilent, hoof and limb, as if they had been cut out of marble. Agreat number of torches lent a gloomy lustre to the hall, which,like those of the Caliph Vathek, was of large dimensions. At theupper end, however, they at length arrived, where a sword and hornlay on an antique table.
'He that shall sound that horn and draw that sword,' said thestranger, who now intimated that he was the famous Thomas ofHersildoune, 'shall, if his heart fail him not, be king over allbroad Britain. So speaks the tongue that cannot lie. But alldepends on courage, and much on your taking the sword or the hornfirst.'
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, andgive offence to the powers of the Mountain. He took the bugle witha trembling hand, and [sounded] a feeble note, but loud enough toproduce a terrible answer. Thunder rolled in stunning pealsthrough the immense hall; horses and men started to life; thesteeds snorted, stamped, grinded their bits, and tossed on hightheir heads; the warriors sprung to their feet, clashed theirarmour, and brandished their swords. Dick's terror was extreme atseeing the whole army, which had been so lately silent as thegrave, in uproar, and about to rush on him. He dropped the horn,and made a feeble attempt to seize the enchanted sword; but at thesame moment a voice pronounced aloud the mysterious words:
'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 throughthe long hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey clear out of themouth of the cavern, and precipitated him over a steep bank ofloose stones, where the shepherds found him the next morning, withjust breath sufficient to tell his fearful tale, after concludingwhich he expired.
This legend, with several variations, is found in many parts ofScotland and England; the scene is sometimes laid in somefavourite glen of the Highlands, sometimes in the deep coal-minesof Northumberland and Cumberland, which run so far beneath theocean. It is also to be found in Reginald Scott's book on"Witchcraft," which was written in the sixteenth century. It wouldbe in vain to ask what was the original of the tradition. Thechoice between the horn and sword, may perhaps, include as a moralthat it is foolhardy to awaken danger before we have arms in ourhands to resist it.
Although admitting of much poetical ornament, it is clear thatthis legend would have formed but an unhappy foundation for aprose story, and must have degenerated into a mere fairy tale.Doctor John Leyden has beautifully introduced the tradition in hisScenes 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, Wh
ile 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 followingoccurred among other disjecta membra. It seems to be an attempt ata tale of a different description from the last, but was almostinstantly abandoned. The introduction points out the time of thecomposition to have been about the end of the eighteenth century.
THE LORD OF ENNERDALE
A FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM JOHN B----, ESQ., OF THAT ILK, TOWILLIAM G----, F.R.S.E.
'FILL a bumper,' said the Knight; 'the ladies may spare us alittle longer. 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,with somewhat of a foreign accent; 'but why should you connectthose events, unless to hope that the bravery and victories of ourallies may supersede 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 ofan ally who was unwilling to defend himself, and for therestoration of a royal family, nobility, and priesthood who tamelyabandoned their own rights, is a burden too much even for theresources of this country.'
'And was the war then on the part of Great Britain,' rejoined theAbbe, 'a gratuitous exertion of generosity? Was there no fear ofthe wide-wasting spirit of innovation which had gone abroad? Didnot the laity tremble for their property, the clergy for theirreligion, and every loyal heart for the Constitution? Was it notthought necessary to destroy the building which was on fire, erethe conflagration spread around the vicinity?'
'Yet, if upon trial,' said the Doctor,' the walls were found toresist our utmost efforts, I see no great prudence in perseveringin our labour amid the smouldering ruins.'
'What, Doctor,' said the Baronet,'must I call to your recollectionyour own sermon on the late general fast? Did you not encourage usto hope that the Lord of Hosts would go forth with our armies, andthat our enemies, who blasphemed him, should be put to shame?'
'It may please a kind father to chasten even his belovedchildren,' 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 oftheir prophecies at the battle of Dunbar, when their mutinouspreachers compelled the prudent Lesley to go down against thePhilistines in Gilgal.'
The Vicar fixed a scrutinizing and not a very complacent eye uponthis intruder. He was a young man, of mean stature, and rather areserved appearance. Early and severe study had quenched in hisfeatures the gaiety peculiar to his age, and impressed upon them apremature cast of thoughtfulness. His eye had, however, retainedits fire, and his gesture its animation. Had he remained silent,he would have been long unnoticed; but when he spoke there wassomething in his manner which arrested attention.
'Who is this young man?' said the Vicar in a low voice to hisneighbour.
'A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry,' was theanswer.
'I thought so, from his accent and his manners,' said the Vicar.
It may be here observed that the northern English retain rathermore of the ancient hereditary aversion to their neighbours thantheir countrymen of the south. The interference of otherdisputants, each of whom urged his opinion with all the vehemenceof wine and politics, rendered the summons to the drawing-roomagreeable to the more sober part of the company.
The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the Vicar and theyoung Scotchman alone remained, besides the Baronet, his lady,daughters, and myself. The clergyman had not, it would seem,forgot the observation which ranked him with the false prophets ofDunbar, for he addressed Mr. Maxwell upon the first opportunity.
'Hem! I think, sir, you mentioned something about the civil warsof last century? You must be deeply skilled in them, indeed, ifyou can draw any parallel betwixt those and the present evil days--days which I am ready to maintain are the most gloomy that everdarkened the prospects 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 guiltof civil bloodshed, and from all the evils which flow from it. Ourfoes, sir, are not those of our own household; and while wecontinue united and firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy,however artful, or however inveterate, we have, I hope, little todread.'
'Have you found anything curious, Mr. Maxwell, among the dustypapers?' said Sir Henry, who seemed to dread a revival ofpolitical discussion.
'My investigation amongst them led to reflections at which I havejust now hinted,' said Maxwell; 'and I think they are prettystrongly exemplified by a story which I have been endeavouring toarrange from some of your family manuscripts.'
'You are welcome to make what use of them you please,' said SirHenry;' they have been undisturbed for many a day, and I haveoften wished for some person as well skilled as you in these oldpot-hooks to tell me their 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 canread to you the anecdotes in the modern shape into which I havebeen endeavouring to throw them, and you can then judge of thevalue of the originals.'
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 deeplyinto the fashionable reading of the present day. Lady Ratcliff andher fair daughters had climbed every pass, viewed every pine-shrouded ruin, heard every groan, and lifted every trap-door incompany with the noted heroine of Udolpho. They had been heard,however, to observe that the famous incident of the Black Veilsingularly resembled the ancient apologue of the mountain inlabour, so that they were unquestionably critics as well asadmirers. Besides all this, they had valorously mounted en croupebehind the ghostly horseman of Prague, through all his seventranslators, and followed the footsteps of Moor through the forestof 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 inthe right hand drawer of the Indian cabinet of Lady Ratcliff'sdressing-room. Thus predisposed for wonders and signs, LadyRatcliff and her nymphs drew their chairs round a large blazingwood-fire and arranged themselves to listen to the tale. To thatfire I also approached, moved thereunto partly by the inclemencyof the season, and partly that my deafness, which you know,cousin, I acquired during my campaign under Prince Charles Edward,might be no obstacle to the gratification of my curiosity, whichwas awakened by what had any reference to the fate of suchfaithful followers of royalty as you well know the house ofRatcliff have ever been. To this wood-fire the Vicar likewise drewnear, and reclined himself conveniently in his chair, seeminglydisposed to testify his disrespect for the narration and narratorby falling asleep as soon as he conveniently could. By the side ofMaxwell (by the way, I cannot learn that he is in the leastrelated to the Nithsdale family) was placed a small table and acouple of 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 inRotterdam, embarked with my only daughter on board of the goodvessel Vryheid of Amsterdam, in order to pass into the unhappy anddisturbed kingdom of England. 7th November--a brisk gale--daughter sea-sick--myself unable to complete the calculation whichI have begun of the inheritance left by Jane Lansache of Carlisle,my late dear wife's sister, the collection of which is the objectof my voyage. 8th November--wind still stormy and adverse--ahorrid
disaster nearly happened--my dear child washed overboard asthe vessel lurched to leeward. Memorandum--to reward the youngsailor who saved her out of the first moneys which I can recoverfrom the inheritance of her aunt Lansache. 9th November--calm--P.M. light breezes from N. N. W. I talked with the captain aboutthe inheritance of my sister-in-law, Jane Lansache. He says heknows the principal subject, which will not exceed L1000 in value.N. B. He is a cousin to a family of Petersons, which was the nameof 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 Parliamentflag, has appeared in the offing, and gives chase.--11 A.M. Shenears us every moment, and the captain of our vessel prepares toclear for action.--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 we not hear how the battle ended?'
I do not know, cousin, whether I have not formerly made youacquainted with the abilities of Frank Ratcliff. There is not abattle fought between the troops of the Prince and of theGovernment during the years 1745-46, of which he is not able togive an account. It is true, I have taken particular pains to fixthe events of this important period upon his memory by frequentrepetition.
'No, my dear,' said Maxwell, in answer to young Frank Ratcliff--'No, my dear, I cannot tell you the exact particulars of theengagement, but its consequences appear from the following letter,despatched by Garbonete Von Eulen, daughter of our journalist, toa relation in England, from whom she implored assistance. Aftersome general account of the purpose of the voyage and of theengagement her narrative proceeds thus:--
'The noise of the cannon had hardly ceased before the sounds of alanguage to me but half known, and the confusion on board ourvessel, informed me that the captors had boarded us and takenpossession of our vessel. I went on deck, where the firstspectacle that met my eyes was a young man, mate of our vessel,who, though disfigured and covered with blood, was loaded withirons, and whom they were forcing over the side of the vessel intoa boat. The two principal persons among our enemies appeared to bea man of a tall thin figure, with a high-crowned hat and longneckband, and short-cropped head of hair, accompanied by a bluff,open-looking elderly man in a naval uniform. "Yarely! yarely! pullaway, my hearts," said the latter, and the boat bearing theunlucky young man soon carried him on board the frigate. Perhapsyou will blame me for mentioning this circumstance; but consider,my dear cousin, this man saved my life, and his fate, even when myown and my father's were in the balance, could not but affect menearly.
'"In the name of Him who is jealous, even to slaying," said thefirst--'
CETERA DESUNT