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BISHOP LESLIE ON THE MANNERS
OF THE BORDERERS—THEIR VIEWS OF RIGHT AND WRONG—BLOOD-FEUDS - GOOD FAITH
THEIR RELIGION ; BORN HORSEMEN ; KNOWLEDGE OF THE COUNTRY ; NEGLECT OF
AGRICULTURE ; DWELLINGS AND STYLE OF LIVING — RIDING BALLADS : “THE FRAY OF
SUPORT;” “JAMIE TELFER O’ THE FAIR DODHEAD;” "DICK O’ THE COW;” “JOCK O’ THE
SYDE;” &C.—‘THE RISING IN THE NORTH—DOUBLE BETRAYAL OF NORTHUMBERLAND—AN
ENGLISH SPY*S REPORT OF A CONVERSATION AT JEDBURGH—EXPEDITION OF SUSSEX AND
HUNSDON — BORDERERS IN THE RAID OF STIRLING — PECULIAR TREATMENT OF A HERALD
IN JEDBURGH—REBUILDING OF BRANXHOLM —METHOD OF PROCEDURE ON A “DAY OF
TRUCE”—THE RAID OF THE REIDSWIRE — REGENT MORTON’S PALACE OF DROCHIL —
RIVALRY BETWEEN THE FAMILIES OF CESSFORD AND FERNIHIRST — PROGRESS OF EVENTS
ON THE BORDER—PROCEEDINGS OF FRANCIS STUART, EARL OF BOTHWELL—THE ‘BORDER
PAPERS'; BY-NAMES OF BORDERERS—OLD WAT OF HARDEN AND THE “FLOWER OF YARROW”
— LEGEND OF “MUCKLE-MOUTHED MEG”—RESCUE OF KINMONT WILLIE—BUCCLEUCH AND
ELIZABETH.
That ardent adherent of Queen
Mary and Catholicism, John Leslie, Bishop of Ross, devotes a chapter of his
history, written probably about 1572-76, to a description of the manners of
the Borderers. Perhaps the thing that surprises us most in this interesting
passage is the bishop’s reiterated and emphatic assertion that the Borderer
will not spill his enemy’s blood if by any means in his power he can avoid
doing so. “For fra sheding of blude thay greitlie abhor/’ says he; and
again, “They are war with al possible diligens that thay shed nocht thair
blude quha ar in thayr contrare.” This is good hearing, and might serve to
prove to us, if proof were needed, that in history nothing is easier than to
jump to false inferences. At this point, however, consideration for
enemies—one may add for neighbours also —may be said to end : life is
respected, not so property. For though slaughter and like injuries are “ by
the law of God forbidden,” the Borderer is firmly “ persuaded that all the
goods of all men in time of necessity are by the law of nature common.” In
fact, “ the policy of driving a prey ” is by him considered so lawful, not
to say righteous, that never so fervently he says his prayers and tells his
beads (for he remains a good Catholic) as when bound on a reiving
expedition. Exceptions to the regard for human life, which is habitual with
him, arise generally from motives of revenge, and especially from the “
blood-feud,” which, though common throughout the country, flourishes
especially on the Borders, where, indeed, no known laws avail to restrain
it. Hence are seen deadly feuds, not merely of one against one, or of a few
against a few, but of entire races—no matter how little affected by the
original injury.
The prime virtue of the
Borderer consists in good faith to foe as well as friend, which he carries
to the point of a religion. There is no greater dishonour known to him than
to have broken faith, and it is a dishonour felt to extend itself to an
entire clan, who will often wish that God take him who has brought it upon
them “out of this lyfe be ane honest deith.” Their manner of directing
opprobrium to such mis-doers is by placing a glove upon a spear-point and
riding through the people, assembled at a march meeting “in exprobratione
and schame of him quha crakit his cred-dence.” Unlike his more northern
fellow-countryman, the Borderer is a horseman born. “A filthie thing thay
esteirne it, and a verie abjecte man thay halde him that gangis upon his
fute, ony voyage. Quhairthrouch cumis that al ar hors-men.” A fleet horse is
his fortune, and beyond that and cleading for himself and wife, he recks not
of world’s gear. The nature of the country where he dwells enables him to
laugh to scorn the armies of an enemy, for '“if out of thick woods he be
chased, to high mountains he repairs; if out of mountains he be driven, to
the hanks of rivers and pools he flees.” The treacherous character of the
ground also befriends him, abounding as it does in mires which to the
skilless present a fair appearance—like that in which we have just seen the
beautiful queen become entangled. But over these morasses, to others
impassable, the Borderer has the art not only to make his own way, but even
to teach his shoeless horse—by “bowing its hocks”—to pass safely.
On predatory incursions the
Borderer’s knowledge of the country stands him in good stead—whence on such
knowledge he sets the greatest store, for it enables him to be concealed
during the day in places where he and his horse may enjoy rest and
refreshment; and, having secured his booty, to lead it home by night by
paths known only to himself. Seldom, except when sleuth-hounds are employed,
does it happen that he is followed up successfully. But even when overtaken
and overpowered, he has a resource left in his eloquence, which is such as
to move his adversaries, “ however severe,” “ if not to pity, at least to
wonder vehemently.”
Distressing experiences of
warfare, together with success in reiving, have brought this singular and
individual being to hold agriculture cheap—and this notwithstanding the fact
that Teviotdale at least is “plentiful in com.” With an echo of Homer, which
perhaps is not unsought, Leslie further characterises that district as “
abounding in many and bold men of war.” Their living, he tells us, is simple
and frugal— flesh, milk, cheese, and “parched barley” constituting their
staple fare. They care neither for wine nor beer; and, as in Froissart’s
day, use little bread. Their dwellings are for the most part mere huts or
cotes, the burning of which they behold without much concern. Of course they
have stronger buildings also, but the passage in which these are described
is a very puzzling one. The most plausible explanation of it seems to be
that the buildings referred to consisted of wooden ramparts, or stockades,
strengthened with turf,3 and that the name of “peel ” was by degrees
transferred from these to the stone towers which in course of time entirely
superseded them. The only recreations mentioned by the bishop as in favour
among the Borderers are music and the singing of ballads relating either the
deeds of their forebears or their own ingenious achievements in “driving a
prey.” Such, then, is Leslie’s character of our ancestor in the latter
half of the sixteenth century, and surely—take him for all in all, and at
his best—he is a man in whom his successors may still see plenty to be proud
of. At the least he holds by the three great virtues of truth, courage,
humanity; and if his sense of what is due to his fellow-man be in certain
other respects at fault, much of the blame must in fairness he ascribed not
to himself hut to his history and environment.
Of ballads and songs of the
class alluded to by Leslie as finding favour among Borderers, a number have
come down to us. Of these the wildest, if not the most stirring, is the rant
or rallying-song known as “The Fray of Suport,” or Sow-port, on Kershope—a
chant quite worthy to be sung by one of those traditional Border-women of
whom the historian relates that they would not scruple to take the lives of
their own husbands when these returned to them vanquished from the field.
According to Scott, this screed of discordant verse would be chanted in a
wild recitative, swelling at the burden into a “long varied howl, not unlike
to a view-hollo”; and one can scarcely repeat the lines to-day without
conjuring up a vision of sturdy Borderers tumbled out of sleep to follow up
the baying of the bloodhound and the wisp blazing at the spear-head, and
take part in the pursuit of the plunderer.
But perhaps the best specimen
of the “riding” ballads that has been preserved is “Jamie Teller o’ the Fair
1 tod-head.” The Dodhead is a lonely tower in the wild country lying south
of Ettrick. One night it is beset by the English captain of Bewcastle, who
makes a clean sweep of the kye:—
“There’s naething left in the
fair Dodhead.
But a greeting wife and l.airnies three,
And sax poor ca’sr stand in the sta’,
A’ routing loud for their minnie.”
Almost beside himself with
distress, Jamie Telfer, the plundered owner, sets off to rouse the
countryside, and after running ten miles comes to Stobs Hall, on Slitrig.
But Gibbie Elliot, the laird of Stobs, is deaf to his entreaties, bidding
him “gae seek his succour where he paid blackmail.” Then poor Jamie turns
him to the Teviot-side, and at Coultart Cleuch, the house of a kinsman, and
Catslack-hill, he meets with better success. Recruiting his party as he
goes, he reaches Branxholm Ha’, where his tale rouses the sympathy of “auld
Buccleuch,” and at once all is stir and movement for a rescue:—
“Gar warn the water, braid and
wide,
Gar warn it sune and hastilie !
They that winna ride for Telfer’s kye,
Let them never look in the face o’ me!
‘Warn Wat o’ Harden, and his
sons,
Wi’ them will Borthwick Water ride;
Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,
And Gilmanscleuch, and Commonside.’ ”
These are all Scotts living
on Borthwick and Teviot, near the castle of their chief.
“‘Ride by the gate at
Priesthaughswire,
And warn the Currors o’ the Lee;
As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack,
Warn doughty Willie o’ Gorrinberry.’”
Taking the road through
Liddesdale, in order to intercept the fugitives at the ford of Kershope or
Ritterford, and still rousing the country as they ride, the rescue-party
come up with the marauders at the Frostylee burn, near Mosspaul. A brief
parley ensues; but Bewcastle is determined not to yield his prey. Then young
Willie Scott—probably a natural son of Buccleuch—gives the word to “set
on”:—
“Then till’t they gaed wi’
heart and hand,
The blows fell thick as bickering hail,
And mony a horse ran masterless,
And mony a comely cheek was pale.”
Young Willie falls slain, and
Harden, “greeting for very rage” at the sight, cries for revenge :—
“But he’s ta’en aff his gude
steel cap,
And thrice he’s waved it in the air;
The Dinlay snaw was ne’er mair white
Nor the lyart locks o’ Harden’s hair.
*Revenge! Revenge! ’ auld Wat
’gan cry,
Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!
We’ll ne’er see Teviot-side again,
Or Willie’s death revenged sail be.
O, mony a horse ran masterless,
The splintered lances flew on hie,
But or they wan the Kershope ford,
The Scotts had gotten the victory.”
The Captain is wounded, and
over thirty of his men slain. Then the Scotts see how their victory may be
improved, and turn the tables by pushing on to the Captain’s house at
Stanegirthside, on the English bank of the Liddell, and driving off his
cows.
The vivid and circumstantial
portrayal of successive scenes in the above ballad suggested to Veitch that
it might be the composition of one who actually had witnessed the events
described. But these attributes are merely such as are characteristic of all
the Border ballads that have come down to us, every one of which appears to
bear the impress of actuality. Speaking further of “Jamie Telfer,” the
Professor says more happily: “The whole spirit of the old Border life is
there—in its fidelity to clanship, its ready daring, its fierceness of fight
and fence, its delight in romantic deeds, and, withal, in its heart of
pathos.” He adds the characteristic utterance that “the power and truth of
individual manhood were never more thoroughly tested than in the wild grips
of a Border raid.”
The ballad of “Dick o’ the
Cow” tells how one of the Armstrongs is outwitted by the jester of the
English warden, a long-headed “innocent,” who, having had his own three cows
stolen, visits Puddingburn House in Liddesdale, and being allowed to occupy
an “auld peat-house” there, rides off during the night with two of
Armstrong’s horses, having hamstrung the rest to prevent pursuit. So far the
laugh is with Dickie; but legend tells of a terrible vengeance which
overtook him some years afterwards. “Jock o’ the Syde,” “Archie o’ Ca’field,”
and “Kinmont Willie” tell of further feats of prison-breaking. But of the
last-named of these more anon. Rough, and at times tedious, these ballads,
if judged as a whole, are invariably spirited productions, which would be
interesting, if on no other ground, for the traces and hints of extinct
Border manners which they afford. Most of the events described by them
belong to the historical epoch at which we have now arrived.
Turning from poetry to prose,
we find that during the period now under consideration—to wit, the thirty or
forty years immediately preceding the Union of the Crowns—the relations
between the two countries remained of a specially delicate character. For,
at the outset, Scotland was ruled by a sovereign whose title to the English
throne was by many considered superior to that of the offspring of Henry
VIII.’s union with Anne Boleyn ; whilst even when Elizabeth had her rival
under lock and key, her grounds of apprehension were by no means at once set
at rest. The division which had followed Mary’s abdication and defeat at
Langside was per haps rather less one of political parties than of religious
sects. The Duke of Norfolk, who had found opportunity to pay his addresses
to the captive queen in her English prison, was at the head of the English
Catholic party, which also counted in its ranks the Earls of Northumberland
and Westmorland, the representatives of the great northern families of Percy
and Nevill. A rising of the latter, hastily entered upon, was as hastily
repressed; and though the Scottish regent, Moray, had prepared to take arms
against them, the two leaders sought a refuge where the Borderers, under
Buccleuch and Fernihirst, still adhered for the most part to the old faith
and the queen’s part). Again we have an instance of the bad faith of an
Armstrong, for it was by Hector of Harlaw, a member of that family, that
Northumberland was betrayed to Moray. But a still more shameful piece of
treachery was yet to be practised at the expense of the unfortunate
nobleman. Apprehended in 1569, he was confined for two years in the prison
lately vacated by Queen Mary at Lochleven. By the end of that time Morton
was practically supreme in the country — the degenerate son of a degenerate
father, but one to whom on occasion still adhered something of the grandeur
of the race whence he was sprung. In the present instance that grandeur was
conspicuous by its absence. Unmindful alike of the noble rivalry of their
houses, and of favours received in his own person in the past, he stooped to
sell his captive for a sum of money to Elizabeth. Northumberland was
beheaded at York in September 1572.
Returning, however, to the
due order of events, we learn that Westmorland, with others who had been
implicated in the rebellion, found a temporary asylum at Femihirst or
Branxholm. Some light is thrown on the position of parties on the Border at
this time by the narrative of Robert Constable, an English spy. Constable
describes how, on gaining admission to Femihirst’s house in Jedburgh, he
found assembled there “many guests of divers factions — some outlaws of
England, some of Scotland, some neighbours thereabout.” They were drinking
ale and playing at cards for “plack” and “hardheads,” and having insinuated
himself into their company, the spy proceeds to report the conversation he
heard. It seemed to be the general opinion that the regent (who will be
remembered as having made his name respected on the Border) would not, for
his own honour or that of the country, deliver up the earls, if he had them
both, except in exchange for the queen; “ and if he would agree to make that
change, the Borderers would start up in his contrary, and reive both the
queen and lords from him, for the like shame was never done in Scotland, and
that he durst better eat his own lugs than come again to seek Femihirst.”
The listener adds that “Hector of Harlaw’s head was wished to have been
eaten among us at supper.”
At the very time of the
assassination of that champion of Protestantism, the Regent Moray, Buccleuch
and Femihirst made an inroad upon the English Border. On this, Elizabeth
prepared to retaliate, first, however, issuing a manifesto in which was set
forth her grievance—namely, that her rebellious subjects were maintained by
outlaws on the Borders, whilst her action in taking the law into her own
hands was justified by the alleged inability of the present Scottish
Government to control the Borderers.1 Sussex and Hunsdon then crossed the
Middle March and directed operations in particular against lands owned by
the names of Scott and Ker. Thanks, however, to a timely submission,
Cessford escaped unharmed. Proceeding up Teviot, the English generals
destroyed the dwellings on either bank of the river for a breadth of a mile
or two, including the Moss Tower—situated in a marsh in the neighbourhood of
some caves, where the countrv-people had stored their property, which they
defended valiantly but vainly. Reaching Jedburgh, the army divided, and
whilst one portion destroyed Fernihirst and the houses of Hunthill and
Bedrule, the other continued its progress up Teviotside to Hawick. Here the
town was committed to the flames—an exception, however, being made for the
tower of Douglas of Drumlanrig,2 who adhered to the party of the young king.
Upon reaching Branxholm it was found that, by Buccleuch’s orders, the house
had been already burnt. Nothing, therefore, remained to be done but to blow
up the walls. The castle is described by Hunsdon as “ a very strong house,
and well set, and very pleasant gardens and orchards about it.” Finally, the
banks of Bowmont and Kale were devastated. In all, it is computed that fifty
strong castles and peels, and above three hundred villages, were razed,
overthrown, and burnt in this expedition.4 Thus ended the last, and one of
the most ruthless, of English incursions upon the Scottish Border.
The Earl of Lennox having now
succeeded to the regency, the dissensions between Queen’s-men and King’s-men
reached the point of civil war, and Kirkaldy of Grange, leader of the former
party, having planned a stroke against the king’s Parliament assembled at
Stirling, knew that he could not do better than enlist the services of
Buccleuch and Femihirst. Approaching the town in the small hours of the 4th
September 1571, the Borderers found it unguarded, and succeeded in taking
possession without striking a blow. They might now have carried all before
them, had not their plundering instincts led them to disperse in quest of
horse-flesh. Whilst they were thus occupied, the townspeople rallied under
Mar, who was keeper of the castle, and the position of affairs was quickly
reversed. Buccleuch, who had made Morton prisoner, now found himself the
prisoner of Morton. But the two were nearly connected, and the captive seems
to have been speedily released. Lennox was slain in the fray. The Borderers
fled, and as they had secured the horses before doing so, pursuit was
impossible.
We have, however, already
seen that the Borders were not unanimous—Drumlanrig was a King’s-man;
Cessford had submitted to James, or to Elizabeth, which was the same thing.
The town of Jedburgh was now to demonstrate in perfectly unequivocal fashion
the direction in which its sympathies lay. It happened that a herald had
been sent there by Queen Mary’s party to read a proclamation in the
market-place. He had proceeded so far as to state that the queen’s
Parliament assembled in Edinburgh—in opposition to that in Stirling— had
found all proceedings directed against her Majesty null, and that all men
should henceforth obey her only, when the provost abruptly cut him short.
The unfortunate pursuivant was then ordered to come down from the steps of
the town cross, and having been forced to swallow his parchment, was “caused
loose doun his points,” when correction was administered with a bridle, as
to a schoolboy. To avenge so singularly galling an insult, Buccleuch and
Fernihirst marched against the town. But the townspeople, being joined by
Cessford, and supported by troops under Ruthven which had been hastily sent
to their aid by the Government, succeeded in defeating the assailants. The
capture first of Dumbarton and then of Edinburgh Castle, with the execution
of Kirkaldy and the suicide of Lethington, dealt the deathblow to Queen
Mary’s cause in Scotland, and Buccleuch had soon leisure to return to the
rebuilding of his house of Branx-holm. This, however, he did not live to
complete, dying at the early age of twenty-five.5
His labours and those of his wife were commemorated by inscribed stones
inserted in the building, which also bore the arms of Scott and Douglas.
In the summer of 1575 took
place the last of the great Border frays, properly so called. The occasion
was one of the periodical march days, held by the wardens on either side for
redress of grievances. The form of procedure at these meetings, which had by
this time become stereotyped, required the injured parties to send in their
bills of complaint beforehand to their own warden, by whom these would be
handed on to his colleague across the Border, whose business it then became
to arrest the parties accused, or at least to summon them to appear at the
next march meeting. The meetings, having been proclaimed in the niarket-towns
on either side, were usually largely attended, being, in fact, occasions of
commerce and pleasure as well as of business; when pallions (tents) would be
set up, and feasting and drinking, sports, dice, and card-playing indulged
in on the ground. On the arrival of the wardens, messages were exchanged,
formally demanding and conceding that truce be kept till sunrise the next
day. Then each warden held aloft his hand in token of good faith, and having
proclaimed the truce upon his own side, advanced to meet his colleague, whom
he saluted and embraced, and so the business of the day began. It can
scarcely have escaped the reader’s notice that these conditions presented
elements of risk, whilst the slaying of Ker of Femihirst by the Bastard
Heron will be remembered as an instance of the worst apprehensions being
realised.
The march meetings were
generally held on the Scottish side of the Border. On the present occasion
the Reidswire, or pass into Reedsdale from the northern slopes of Carter
Fell, had been named as the scene of the conference. The meeting opened
amicably, but in course of transacting the ordinary business of hearing
cases and redressing wrongs, a cause of dispute chanced to arise between Sir
John Forster and Sir John Carmichael, the respective English and Scottish
wardens —the latter demanding the cession of a certain English thief named
Farnstein, from which the former excused himself on some apparently
insufficient ground. A personal element stems to have been imported into the
quarrel, and words had waxed high, when the English bystanders, espousing
too warmly the cause of their chief, discharged a flight of arrows among the
Scotsmen. By this one Scot was slain and several were wounded. Taken thus
unprepared, the Scots, who were comparatively few in number and for the most
part unarmed, took to flight. But ere they had gone far, being met and
reinforced by a party from Jedburgh who were on their way to attend the
meeting, they returned to the scene of action and succeeded in driving the
English down the southern slopes of Carter. In this encounter were slain Sir
George Heron of Chipchase, keeper of Reedsdale and Tyneda’e, a man much
esteemed on both sides the Border, and twenty-four of his countrymen. Among
the captives were the English w'arden, his son-in-law, Francis Lord Russell,
eldest son of the Earl of Bedford, Cuthbert Collingwood, James Ogle, and
Henry Fenwick. These were brought before the Regent Morton at Dalkeith, who,
feeling the weakness of his case, had the tact to receive them courteously,
and to dismiss them to their homes, after having detained them for a few
days in order that their resentment might abate. By subsequent well-timed
concessions, he also contrived to allay the wrath of Queen Elizabeth. Among
Scottish victims of the fray is mentioned the Laird of Mow. The ballad of
the “Raid of the Reidswire” has a special interest as a bead-roll of
Borderers from both countries, with generally some hint of the attributes of
each.
If subservient to Elizabeth,
Morton was as a ruler wellnigh pitiless, and his leaden regime has left in
the Border counties an ideally appropriate memorial. In 1578, when avarice
and unscrupulous ambition had made him hateful throughout the kingdom, he
resigned the regency, and withdrawing into the country, designed for
himself, in the words of an old local writer, “ a noble recess and
retirement from worldly business.” Choosing his site—for the “ pleasure of
the place and the salubrity of the air ”—upon the brow of a knoll commanding
views of the valleys of Lyne, Tarth, and Tweed, he raised the gloomy pile of
Drochil. The building—intended less for a castle of defence than for a
palace—was planned upon a scale of singular magnificence. But the betrayer
of Northumberland did not live to realise his dream. He soon repented him of
having resigned the sovereign power, but that step had already produced
irreparable results. Having incurred the jealousy of Stewart, Earl of Arran,
the infamous favourite of the young king, he was brought to trial upon the
pretext of his participation in the murder of Darnley, and was condemned.
Once removed beyond the reach of worldly considerations, the stern dignity
of his character seems to have shone out. On the night after receiving his
sentence he slept soundly, observing when he awoke that till then he had
lain sleepless, thinking how he might defend himself, but that now his mind
was relieved. He likewise freely forgave his accuser, declaring that
howsoever men had carried themselves towards him, he felt assured that God
had dealt justly by him, and that he suffered nothing which he had not
merited. He was executed, June 1581. About the mode of his execution there
was a singular irony, for he was the first victim of a new species of
guillotine, called the Maiden, which he had himself introduced into Scotland
to behead the Laird of Penicuik, who notwithstanding died peacefully in his
bed. The identical instrument is still preserved in the National Museum of
Antiquities in Edinburgh. With Morton’s death disappeared, in a manner not
yet satisfactorily accounted for, the vast treasures which were the fraits
of his oppression and corruption as a ruler. In life he had the reputation
of trafficking with wizards, and desiring to pry into futurity. His castle
of Drochil still remains an example of what is perhaps the most melancholy
spectacle in creation—a structure which has passed direct and without
intermediate stage from incompleteness to decay. Over the front of the south
entrance appear in raised letters the initials J.E.O.M.—for James, Earl of
Morton—with the “ fetter lock ” of a warden of the marches.
So long as a Scottish king
was a minor it might safely be predicted that there would be a struggle of
parties for the custody of his person. Accordingly the “ Raid of Ruthven ”
now transferred young James VI. from the influence of the favourites Stuart
of Ochiltree, Earl of Arran, and Esme D’Aubigny, Duke of Lennox, to the
keeping of Angus, Mar, and Gowrie. But anon, in the summer of 1583, the
king’s escape at St Andrews drove Gowrie to the block and his associates
across the Border; whilst the Catholic faction once more came into power,
with Arran as lieutenant-general of the marches. Lennox had
died—heart-broken, as is said, by the eclipse of his fortune. But the death
of Francis Russell, whom we have already seen made prisoner at the Reidswire,
in a subsequent and similar fray on the Mid Marches, in 1585, paved the way
for Arran’s fall, which was consummated by a second seizure by Angus of the
king’s person at Stirling.
Buccleuch was still a minor,
and Cessford and Femihirst alternated in the wardenry of the march. Their
rivalry for this appointment, and, as we have seen, for the superiority of
Jedburgh, had ere this caused bloodshed: it was now to prove fatal to
William Kerr of Ancrum, a man of 'deserved credit in the councils of the
Borders. The circumstances were these. Femihirst having died in ward—to
which he had been committed for his share of responsibility for the death of
Russell—Ancrum had exerted himself, during the minority of the heir, to
uphold the interest of the family. In so doing he had offended the “ Lady
Cessford.” She, being a woman of haughty spirit, then worked upon her son’s
feelings until she had induced him to take Kerr’s life. The murder, like
that of Branxholm, was committed by night in the streets of Edinburgh.
Cessford fled, but was soon pardoned, “upon satisfaction made to the
gentleman’s children.”
Meantime the King of Scots
had become bound to Elizabeth, not only by the money allowance which she
paid him— somewhat irregularly—and which his poverty made an important
consideration, but also by the prospect of succeeding to her crown, and
hence it came about that his practical expression of resentment at the
execution of his mother was confined to permitting incursions on the
marches. None the less, the situation of affairs between the two countries
was for a time very critical, for the sailing of the Armada was imminent,
and both France and Spain were negotiating to win James to their interest.
In these circumstances Huntingdon was appointed lieutenant-general of the
English marches, with power to raise 10,000 men; whilst there was even a
surprising proposal on foot to strengthen the defences of the English Border
by restoring the Roman Wall. The crisis was, however, tided over, and James
having set forth to fetch home his Danish bride, the Laird of Mangerton
presently received no more formidable commission than to hunt venison for
three days in Liddesdale, to assist in furnishing the wedding-feast.
The next five years of the
reign are specially notable for the disturbances created by a being who may
serve for the type of those turbulent and desperate characters which the old
Borders had the faculty of breeding—men who seemed to fear neither God nor
man, and in considering whose history we can but deplore that a high spirit
and demonic energy were not directed towards better ends. Francis Stuart,
Earl of Bothwell, was the son of a bastard of King James V.—the offspring of
that king’s connection with Janet Hepburn, the sister of Queen Mary’s third
husband. Stuart had been invested in the castle of Hermitage and the lands
of Liddesdale, and having married the widow of the late Laird of Buccleuch—herself
a daughter of the seventh Earl of Angus —had become rich in possessions and
connections in the Border country. Relations between himself and his royal
kinsman seem at first to have been extremely friendly; but presently the
earl conceived the mad idea of seizing the king’s person and governing the
kingdom in his name. With this view he consulted with certain professors of
the occult sciences; but his proceedings having taken air, he was by the
royal order placed in ward. He now threw restraint to the winds, and
rallying some of the more turbulent of the Borderers, among whom he was
extremely popular, on the night of December 27, 1591, he effected a secret
entrance into the Palace of Holyrood. Sir James Melville, who was present on
the occasion, has left a spirited account of what followed. The cry of
“Justice, Justice! A Bodowell, a Bodowell!” broke suddenly the stillness of
the night, and but for a brief delay on the part of James Douglas of Spot,
the intruders might have carried all before them. He, however, paused to
liberate some of his servants confined in the palace, and the few moments
thus gained gave the king’s friends time to barricade the royal apartment.
The conspirators thundered on the door, shots were fired, and at last the
defences were carried. But in the meantime the king had been smuggled into
an upper chamber, and relief being now brought up by way of a secret passage
through the Abbey Kirk, the assailants made off—not, however, until blood
had been spilt and life lost. The alleged ground of this outrage was the
undue influence exercised over the king by the Chancellor Maitland, brother
to Lethington.
The next few years of Francis
Stuart’s life were spent in the avowed character of rebel and firebrand. It
is, however, impossible here to do more than glance at his wild deeds.
Having entered Lochmaben in woman’s apparel, he made himself master of that
fortress; whilst at Falkland, in the summer following his first excess, he
repeated his attempt upon the king, but again without success. James made an
expedition to the Borders expressly to punish him, but Bothwell found
refuges at Netherby and Edenhall in Cumberland, and seems also to have
enjoyed the secret countenance of Elizabeth, who perhaps thought that she
might some day find him useful. The next of his meteoric apparitions was in
the king’s bed-chamber at Holyrood, where, with a drawn sword in his hand,
he extorted from James’s terror a pardon for past crimes. But in spite of
this concession, and of Both-well’s acquittal in his trial for proceeding
against the king by witchcraft, James’s hostility against him did not cease.
Indeed the pages of Birrel’s Diary of this period teem with records of
proclamations and other more stringent measures directed against the earl,
his countess, and his friends. These measures seem at last to have borne
fruit, for after a further period of roving and rebellion on the Borders,
Bothwell withdrew to the Continent, dying at Naples in 1612. In his latter
years he had been reduced to support himself by the exhibition of feats of
arms, necromancy, and fortune-telling.3 His character seems to have combined
with much of the adventurer something of the madman, and not a little of the
charlatan or mountebank. No reader of ‘ Old Mortality ’ will have forgotten
his connection with one of the finest of all Scott’s soldiers of fortune—a
type, by the way, which the great novelist especially delighted to paint. On
the fall of Bothwell the castle of Hermitage and the office of keeper of
Liddesdale were given to his stepson, Buccleuch.
The “ March Bills,” recently
given to the world in the Calendar of Border Papers—drawn up, as they are,
with business-like method and at great length—throw considerable light on
the condition of the Middle March at this period; but affording as they do
material for a separate study, it is impossible in a compendious sketch of
Border history such as the present to deal with these as they deserve.
Suffice it, then, here to say that the forays of the Scottish riders were
now directed chiefly against the West and Middle Marches— Elliots and
Armstrongs being the principal offenders. These are described as “always
riding”; but other clans of Teviotdale, such as the Rutherfords, Turnbulls,
Burnes, Davidsons, and Douglases, also took their share in such exploits. It
may be added that the March Bills exhibit all the .old picturesqueness of
nomenclature—of which the following examples may be quoted: Hob the Tailor,
Short Thome, “ little Peck,” Dande Oliver “ the Lover,” Hob of the bog,
Jenete’s Watte, Giles Douglas (“Gile the gose”), Jock Young “the basterd,”
Thome of the Town-head, Raiphe Burn (“shorte necke”), “ Mistres ” Karr
(evidently a man), Dand Young of Clifton, son to the “ crooked plege,” Dande
Dowglas (“ Dande of the brea”), Eddie Elliot, son to Davye the “Carlinge,”
Arche Croser (“Quintin’s Arche”), Will.Croser (“ill-willed Will”), “gretelegs,”
Jock “half-lug,” Nebless Clemy, “Bang-taile,” Hob “bullie,” “Red neb,” and
“Red Cloak.” Such bynames were of course in the first instance adopted to
obviate the confusion otherwise inevitably arising from the clan * system.
For us the type of the old
reiving Borderer is certainly “ Auld Wat of Harden,” though it is probable
that he owes that distinction largely to the fortunate chance that neither
in his own day nor in ours has he lacked a pious poet. The estate of Harden
was acquired in 1501 by Robert, second son of Walter Scott of Sinton, from
whom Old Wat was fourth in direct descent. The situation of the old house, 1
Scotts of Buccleuch, vol. i., Introduction, p. lxviL or tower, on the brink
of a “deep and impervious glen,” in which a large herd of cattle might be
safely bestowed, gave it great advantage as a centre of mosstrooping
operations. Round the personalty of Wat himself—whom we have already seen
figure in the exploit of Jamie Telfer — many traditions have grown up, some
of which will not, however, stand investigation. Thus it has long been
believed that by the contract of marriage between Harden and Marion, called
the “Flower of' Yarrow,”—the beautiful daughter of Scott of Dryhope, near St
Mary’s,—Dryhope bound himself to find Harden in horse-meat and man’s meat at
his tower for a year and a day, whilst Harden on his part undertook to give
his father-in-law the “profits of the first Michaelmas moon ” — a
significant allusion to old Border manners. Unfortunately for the credit of
these picturesque fictions, the original agreement is preserved in the
charter-room of Mertoun, the seat of Old Wat’s descendant, the present Baron
Polwarth, and having been examined, proves to be of a matter-of-fact and
commonplace character, quite innocent of romantic suggestion.
The beautiful “Flower of
Yarrow” seems to have adapted herself to the circumstances of her rough life
at Harden, for it is recorded of her that when the larder was empty she
would recall the male portion of the family to a sense of what was expected
of them by placing on the table at dinner-time a dish containing spurs. As
if to bear this tradition out, there is preserved among the heirlooms of the
house a pair of antique brass spurs of elaborate workmanship. With these is
an ancient horn, into the surface of which many initials have from time to
time been cut or burnt, said to be the identical bugle of Old Wat. By
another tradition, the authorship of many of the old Border ballads is
ascribed to a minstrel Scotts of Buccleuch, vol. i,, Introduction, p. Ixx,
said to have been carried off in a raid in childhood, and reared by the
Flower of Yarrow.
In illustration of Harden’s
own propensities, his illustrious descendant Sir Walter Scott has related
the two following anecdotes: “Upon one occasion, when the village herd was
driving out the cattle to pasture, the old laird heard him call loudly to ‘
drive out Harden’s cow.’ ‘ Harden’s cow? ’ echoed the affronted chief; ‘is
it come to that pass ? by my faith they shall sune say Harden’s kyc.'
Accordingly he sounded his bugle, mounted his horse, set out with his
followers, and returned next day with ‘a bow (or herd) of kye and a bassen’d
(brindled) bull.’ On his return with this gallant prey, he passed a very
large hay-stack. It occurred to the provident laird that this would be
extremely convenient to fodder his new stock of cattle; but as no means of
transporting it occurred, he was fain to take leave of it with this
apostrophe, now proverbial, * By my soul, had ye but four feet, ye should
not stand lang there.’ ” A similar proverbial saying is that of a Border
mother to her son, “ Ride, Rouly— hough’s i’ the pot! ” indicating that the
last piece of beef was in the pot, and therefore it was high time for the
young man to fetch more.
Transcending in romance the
story of the Flower of Yarrow’s marriage-contract is that of the marriage of
Harden’s son and heir. As told by Sir Walter Scott, it bears that young
Harden, being made prisoner in a skirmish by Sir Gideon Murray of Elibank,
afterwards Treasurer-Depute of Scotland, was on the point of being executed
by hanging from a branch of Elibank’s “ doom - tree,” when the Lady Elibank
interposed with a suggestion of milder treatment. Her plan for the disposal
of the captive was that he should be forced to espouse, without “ tocher,”
the youngest of three daughters of the house—a damsel rejoicing in the
graphic nickname of “ Muck'.e-mouthed Meg.” So ill-favoured, indeed, was his
destired bride, that it was not without much hesitation that Scott made his
choice between her and the doom-tree. But life is sweet, and having chosen
the lady, it is satisfactory to know that he had no cause to repent of his
bargain, for Margaret Murray made him an excellent wife, suiting him even in
the detail of having a singularly happy hand in pickling the beef which he
stole.
Thus Sir Walter Scott; but
the dry documents of the Mertoun charter-room again reveal a different tale.
From these it appears that, far from the marriage being hasty or compulsory,
the preliminary arrangements on either side were even unusually careful and
protracted, occupying many months in consideration, and being finally
embodied in a closely-wrtten legal instrument measuring no less than seven
feet in length! Nor was this all, for instead of coming to him tocherless,
the bride—whose name was not Margaret, but Agnes—brought her husband a dowry
of 7000 merks. Thus the whole fabric of fiction falls to the ground. It is
worth noting that in subscribing the above marriage-contract, Wat of Harden
signs “with my hand at the pen, led by the notaris underwritten at my
command, becaus I can not wryt.” The legend, as we must now consider it, of
“ Muckle - mouthed Meg” has furnished a congenial subject for the whimsical
pencil of Kirkpatrick Sharpe, whose drawings to illustrate it may be seen at
Abbotsford House.
The night of April 13, 1596,
was signalised by a bold feat of prison-breaking, which may be regarded as
the last of the great Border exploits. The circumstances leading to it were
as follows : William Armstrong of Kinmont, a noted Scottish freebooter, had
been present at a march day held at the Day-holm of Kershope by the deputies
of Buccleuch, Keeper of Liddesdale, and Lord Scrope, the English warden of
the Western March. As he was riding peaceably homeward, along the north bank
of Liddell, he was chased by some Englishmen, and being captured, was
carried off to prison at Carlisle. Whatever may have been Kinmont’s previous
misdeeds, this was a plain infringement of the “day of truce.” But
Buccleuch’s appeal for his release was met by excuses.1 The keeper therefore
determined to take the law into his own hands and attempt the rescue of his
countryman. Doubtless he was not the less inclined to do this that there
were already many grounds of offence between himself and the English warden,
both of whom were fiery spirits in the full vigour of their age. On a dark
and stormy night very suitable for his purpose, Buccleuch assembled his
followers, to the number of several hundreds, at Kinmont’s tower of Morton,
situated in the Debatable Land, about ten miles from Carlisle. A list of
those present at this rendezvous has been preserved, and includes, besides
of course Old Wat of Harden, who was sure to be to the fore on such an
occasion, among many Armstrongs, the Laird of Mangerton, the young Laird of
Whithaugh and his son, and the four sons of the imprisoned Kinmont. The
conspirators then approached Carlisle under cover of the darkness and
dismounted.
Will Eliot, goodman of
Gorrombye, John Eliott, called of the Copshawe, three of the Calfhills (Armstrongs),
Jocke, Bighames, and one Ally, a bastard; Sandy Armstrong, son to Ilebbye,
Willie Bell, “red-cioake,” fore this, however, steps had been taken to
facilitate the projected act of deforcement by securing the complicity of
the formidable clan of the Grosmes, by one of whom2 a party of eighty of
Buccleuch’s men were now guided to the outer wall of the castle
Being furnished with “
gavlocks ” or levers, crowbars, pinks, axes, and scaling-ladders, they
speedily and silently undermined the postern-door, thus effecting an
entrance into the base-court. According to the evidence of an informer,
Buccleuch was the fifth man to enter—as he did so encouraging his company
with the words, “ Stand to it, for I have vowed to God and my prince that I
would fetch out of England Kinmont dead or quick, and will maintain that
action when it is done with fire and sword against all resisters.” Meantime
the watch were either sleeping or had gotten them to shelter from the storm.
It is more than likely, too, that some of them had been tampered with.* At
any rate, the rescue-party were able to reach Kinmont’s prison and set him
free without encountering serious resistance. Of the three men who alone
seem so far to have attempted to oppose them, two were left for dead and the
third wounded.and two of his brethren, Walter Bell of Godesby; three
brethren of Tweda, Armstrongs ; young John of the Hollows and one of his
brethren; Christie of Barneglish and Roby of the Langholm ; the Chingles;
Willie Kange and his brethren, with their_“complices” (Border Papers, vol.
ii. p. 122).
As the prisoner was on
parole, he was probably the less securely guarded. Having now effected their
object, rescued and rescuers had issued forth of the postern when an alarm
was given by the watch of the inner ward. But it was then too late to stop
them.
Such is the unvarnished tale,
from English sources, of the rescue of Kinmont Willie. The spirited ballad
which completes the story is too well known to require quotation. A
comparison of the prose with the poetic version of the incident reveals a
number of small discrepancies. The varied disguises, for instance, assumed
by the rescuers — “ five and five like a mason - gang,” to carry the
ladders, and so on; their meeting with Salkeld, the unjust deputy-warden,
Kinmont’s good-night to Scrope, and probably the manacles with which he is
so liberally loaded, are all additions of the balladist. But these things
are in the nature of perfectly legitimate poetic ornament, and on the whole,
after comparing the flights of the Scottish poet with the statement of the
English official, one remains impressed not by the licence but by the
closeness to fact in essentials of the former. That nothing should be said
of the aid rendered by the Gnemes is easily intelligible.
The deforcement of Carlisle
Castle was an insult not to be brooked by Elizabeth, who straightway
demanded the surrender of Buccleuch. This James refused, protesting that the
original injury lay in the capture of Kinmont during time of truce. A heated
controversy ensued, with raids on either side — Cavers in Roxburghshire
being laid waste and burnt by the English, whilst on the part of Scotland
Buccleuch made an incursion into Northumberland and hanged thirty-six of the
Tyndale freebooters. In 1597 all seemed ripe for war; but happily a
compromise was effected, Buccleuch voluntarily surrendering himself to the
English warden, and being released after a brief detention— when his son, a
boy of ten, took his place. Probably some two years later, having expressed
a wish to kiss hands, Buccleuch was admitted to Elizabeth’s presence. A
family tradition says that on this occasion the queen, alluding to the
Kinmont incident, asked him, in her well-known way, “how he dared to commit
so presumptuous an offence.” “Dare, madam,” was the memorable reply; “ what
is there that a man dares not do? ” Elizabeth appreciated the spirit of the
words, and turning to a lord-in-waiting, observed that “with ten thousand
such men, our brother in Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe!
” After this Buccleuch’s fine energies seem to have been directed into
better - regulated channels, and we hear no more of wild justice
administered by him on the Border. |
