and out came the knights, as merry as larks, making the air resound with
their laughter. The farmer and his friends were still more amazed, as,
for their very souls, they could see nothing in discomfiture and
imprisonment to make any man laugh. But the fact was now certain, that
the prisoners were right glad and hearty; and the sincerity of their
good humour was to be tested in a manner that seemed as extraordinary as
anything that had yet been witnessed on this eventful evening. Not one
of them ever mentioned the beggar or the loss of the horse--a
circumstance remarkable enough; and, not contented with this scrupulous
regard of the treaty, the chief of them, slapping the farmer on the
back, proposed that, as they had so unceremoniously broken up the sports
of the evening, they should not depart till they saw the dancing again
commenced, and till they each and every man of them should dance a reel
with the blooming maidens they had seen on their entry. This request,
though as remarkable as the former proceedings, was received with loud
applause. The parties were again collected; Tam the piper again took his
seat; the ale flowed in its former abundance; and in a short time the
brave knights were seen tripping it gaily through the mazes of the merry
dance. This was another change of the moral peristrephic panorama of
that extraordinary evening; and, as the farmer looked at the merry
knights with their surtouts of green, and their buff baldricks and
clanging swords, busy dancing in that very barn where they had, a few
minutes before, been fighting like Turks, he held up his hands in
wonder, and would have moralised on the chances and changes of life, if
a barn had been a proper place, a Maiden a proper occasion, and the hour
of relief from a great evil a proper time for the indulgence of such
fancies.
The knights danced only for a very short time; and there can be no doubt
that they did their best to please themselves, and to exhibit to their
host and his friends the greatest triumphs of the gay art; but all their
efforts only tended to bring into higher contrast their best and most
intricate evolutions, their highest and most joyous humours, their
pleasantest and merriest tricks, with the devil-daring, jumping,
roaring, laughing, kissing, and hugging of the jolly gaberlunzie, who
outran all competitors in the production of fun, as much as ever did an
Arab steed the plough-nag at a fair gallop. There was not a knight among
them that could, as the saying goeth, "hold the candle to him;" and as
for the private opinions of the "damysells," the very best judges of the
properties of man, they would not have given one hair in the beard of
the jolly gaberlunzie for all the short crops of the chins of all the
knights put together. His thefts and vagaries were lost, like spots on
the sun, in the blaze of his convivial splendour; and, coming and flying
off like a comet, as he had done, he had left them in a darkness which
all the tiny lights of the good-natured crew of bannerets could not
illumine beyond the twinkle that only served to exhibit more clearly
their gloom. _Sic transit gloria mundi!_--they might never see his like
again.
The knights, after enjoying themselves in the manner we have mentioned,
mounted their horses, (the one whose steed was stolen, having borrowed
one from the farmer,) and having been supplied with a good stirrup-cup,
galloped away, without ever having said one word, either of good or
evil, of the mysterious gaberlunzie of whom they came in search. The
Maiden was finished soon after, and the guidman of Cairnkibbie retired
with his guidwife to rest, and in their waking moments to wonder at the
strange events of the day. The fears of evil, resulting from his own
conduct, had in a great measure ceased; but, alas! they ceased only to
be revived in the morning, and increased to a degree that made him still
lament having forced the king's messengers, and harboured a thief. About
eleven o'clock of the succeeding day, a horseman, booted and spurred,
arrived in great haste at the door of the farm-house of Cairnkibbie, and
requested to see the guidman.
"What's your will, sir?" said the farmer to the messenger, as he went to
the door.
"I bear his Highness the King's schedule, to be delivered to William
Hume, the tenant of Cairnkibbie."
"The King's schedule!" answered William, as he took the paper out of the
messenger's hands--"what hae I dune to offend the king?"
"Read it," said the messenger; and William complied.
"These are to show our high will and pleasor, that whereas ane
gaberlunzie, of the name of Wat Wilson, or at least ane wandering
vagabond to whom that denomination does by common use or courtesie
effeir, did, in our guid toun of Dunse, on Wednesday last past, of this
current month of October, when our servitors and officers marching
rank-on-raw, before and behint our person, reft frae the hands o' our
mace-bearer, our mace of authority, fabricat of real siller, and
embossed with dewysses of goold, whar-with he did flee trayterly to the
protection and refuge of thee, William Hume, tenant of Cairnkibbie, wha,
with thy tenants, domestics, and retainers, and others, did harbour
him, even against our officers of justice, wham thou didst pummel, and
lik, and abuse in a maist shameful manner, and thereafter didst confine
in ane auld barn the whyle thou didst let off the said gaberlunzie, and
steal ane o' the very choicest horses o' our knights; for all the whylk
thou (and eke thy aiders and abettors) shalt answer at our present
ambulatory Court, at our auld burgh of Dunse, wharto thou art summonit
by this schedule, to attend on the day after thou receivest this, at 12
of the forenoon; whylk, if thou disregardest, thou shalt dree the
punishment o' our righteous vengeance. Given at Dunse, this----day of
October 15--. JAMES R."
"The Lord hae mercy on the house o' Cairnkibbie!" ejaculated the farmer,
as he read this fulmination of an incensed king's wrath. "What am I to
do? How can I face the king after abusing his officers, and harbouring
the thief wha stole the royal mace, as weel as the horse o' his officer?
Can ye no intercede for me, sir, or at least gie me some advice how I am
to act in this fearfu business?"
And the farmer stamped on the ground, and paced backwards and forwards
in great distress. The officer who brought the schedule seemed to
sympathise with the unhappy man; but, looking over to the door of the
farm house, and seeing Lilly standing on the landing-place, combing her
fair locks, he smiled as if some hope for the unfortunate farmer had
broken in on his mind.
"Is that your daughter?" said he.
"It is," answered the farmer; "but that question has sma' concern with
this present misery that has overtaken the house o' her father."
"More than thou thinkest, mayhap," answered the horseman. "Bring her
with thee, man, to Court. The king cannot resist the appeal of beauty.
If that fair wench will but hold up that face of hers, while thou
settest forth thy defence, I'll guarantee thy liberation for a score o'
placks. But see thou attendest; otherwise, messengers will be sent to
force thy presence."
Saying these words, the messenger clapped spurs to his horse, and was
out of sight in an instant, leaving the poor farmer in a state of
unabated terror. He went into the house, and reported the direful issue
of last night's adventure to his wife and daughter. The sympathetic
communications of their mutual fears increased their sorrow and
apprehension, till the females burst into tears, and the guidman himself
groaned, at the prospect of his inevitable ruin. During the day and the
night, the subject formed the continual theme of their conversation; and
the terror of meeting the sovereign, the weakness of the defence, and
the fear of ruinous consequences, alternated their influence over their
clouded minds, without a moment's intermission of ease. The guidwife was
determined she would not leave her husband in the hands of his enemies;
Lilly agreed to accompany them, at the request of her father; and Will
Carr, with one or two of the farm-servants, were to go as exculpatory
witnesses. The farmer had in his grief resolved upon a candid defence.
The truth, he was satisfied, might bring him off, while any attempt at
concealment or falsification could not fail to hasten and increase the
punishment he dreaded. At an early hour next day, the party were all on
their way to Dunse; the farmer dressed in his long blue coat and blue
bonnet, his wife with her manky kirtle and high-crowned mutch, bedizened
with large bows of red ribbons; and Lilly, with her "Lincolme gown" and
wimple-bound hair, looking like the Queen of May herself. On their entry
into the town of Dunse, they were met by two men having the appearance
of officers, who claimed them in the king's name as criminals, and
conducted them to a small castle at the end of the town, at that time
used as a garrison for the king's troops. After passing through a long
passage (their hearts palpitating with terror and awe), they came to a
room of a large and stately appearance, hung round, as they could see by
their side glances--for they were terrified to look up--with loose
hangings of rich cloth, whereon were many curious figures, that seemed
to stand out apart from that on which they were set forth. About the
middle of the room--so far as they could guess by their oblique
investigation--they were seated on a species of "lang settle;" and when
they found themselves seated, they began (after drawing nearer and
nearer to each other) to look up and around.
There was a considerable number of individuals in the hall, some
standing and some sitting, and all dressed in the most gorgeous style.
On an elevated seat, covered by a temporary canopy of velvet, sat the
august monarch of Scotland, the Fifth James; and at his feet were three
or four individuals in the habiliments of barons. All this was little
suited to calming the beating hearts of the simple individuals who were
so strangely situated. There was not (and the circumstance seemed
strange) an ordinary individual present. Those who acted as officers
were clearly knights, or high gentlemen in the confidence of the king.
All was silence for a few minutes, when a loud voice called out the name
of "William Hume."
"Here," answered William, with a choking voice, while his wife and
daughter shook till their very clothes rustled.
"Stand up, sir," cried the same fearful voice again.
William obeyed; and now, unimaginable awe! the voice of Majesty itself
sounded through the hall.
"Read the indictment, Dempster," said the King.
The indictment was accordingly read.
"Is it true, sir," began his Majesty, "that thou didst harbour this man
called Wat Wilson, knowing him to have stolen our mace, and thereafter
didst beat and confine our messengers who were sent to apprehend him?"
Like many other timid witnesses, William Hume, regained his
self-possession the moment he was fairly committed to giving evidence by
a plain question being put to him.
"I cam here this day," replied William, looking up and around him with
increasing confidence, "to tell your Highness God's truth. I canna deny
the charge."
"Knowest thou the punishment of deforcing the king's messengers?"
rejoined the King.
"No, yer Highness," replied William; "but my fears tell me it's no
sma'."
"Hast thou anything to say in palliation of thy crime?"
"Owre muckle, I fear, yer Highness," answered William. "I say owre
muckle; for now, when I look back upon the dementit proceedings o' that
nicht, I have almost come to the conclusion that that gaberlunzie wha
has brought me into a' this trouble, was neither mair nor less than his
august Majesty wha"----
"Who, who?" cried the King impatiently; while several of the lords began
to laugh, and whisper, "He knows him, he knows him."
"--Than his august Majesty," continued William, "wha haulds his court
there--there"--(pointing his finger downwards.) "To be plain, yer
Highness, I do on my saul believe he was the Deevil himsel!"
The king laughed a loud laugh, and all the barons burst fair out into a
hearty "guffaw;" while some of them muttered, "A compliment--a
compliment, in good faith, to the King"--a whisper which, if William
Hume had heard, he might have construed into a hint that the gaberlunzie
was no other that the king himself; but, luckily for the naivete of
William's testimony, he remained in his ignorance.
"What, man!" exclaimed the King, when he had again arranged his jaws
into something like gravity--"Dost thou believe he was the Devil?"
"Troth do I," replied William, now getting bolder by the laughter that
had rung in his ears; "and the mair I think o' him and his wild and
wonderfu' feiks and freits, the mair satisfied am I o't."
William's adherence to his position produced another burst of merriment.
"What _did_ he do," continued the King, "to entitle him to that
character? It would ill become us to punish a subject for the acts of
the Evil One."
"What did he _no_ do, your Highness?" ejaculated the farmer--"he did
everything the enemy could do, and man couldna. We were hauldin our
Maiden when he cam to the door, and were determined no to let him in;
but he turned a' oor hearts in an instant, and the enemies o' his
entrance becam the freends o' his presence. Then began he to act his
part: he played as nae man ever played; drank as nae man ever drank;
danced, and made ithers dance, langer and blyther than ever man did on
the face o' this earth; caught men's hearts like bullfinches wi' his
sangs, the women's by the rub o' his beard; and sent through a' and owre
a' sic a glamour and witchery o' fun, and frolic, and enjoyment--ay, and
luve o' himsel--that nae mortal cratur was ever seen to hae sic power
since the days o' Adam."
William drew breath, and the king and lords again laughed heartily.
"But a' that was naething," continued William; "I'm a plain man, as ye
may see--and wha, looking at me, would say that a mortal gaberlunzie
could twist me round his finger as easily as he could do a packthread?
Yet this beggar did that. Your Highness' troops cam to seize him--and
wha before ever saw the guidman o' Cairnkibbie harbour a thief? The
Deevil had thrown owre me and the hail menyie the charm o' his cantraps.
We swore we would defend him--ay, even though we saw the stowen mace in
his hand; we did defend him, and he had nae mair to do than to blaw in
oor lugs, when clap went the barn-doors, and a' yer Highness' knights
were imprisoned as if by magic. Could a beggar o' ordinar flesh and
blude hae dune a' that, yer Highness?"
William again drew breath, and again the hall resounded with the laugh
of the king and his lords.
"But even a' that was little or naething," continued William again; "for
to pay us for a' the guid we had dune him, he made himsel invisible, and
rode aff like a fire-flaught on ane o' the knight's horses; and frae
that eventfu hour to this, we hae ne'er seen his face."
"Art satisfied, my Lord of Ross?" said the King in a whisper, to a lord
that sat beside him. "Is our wager won? Have we, as we essayed,
succeeded in our undertaking? Have we in the form of a beggar, so
wrought upon the hearts of the members of a Maiden feast, as to gain
their love to the extent of making them defend the gaberlunzie against
the king's knights, inspiring them to fight, and win the day in a fought
battle, and latterly riding home on one of the enemy's horses? Ha! ha!
we opine we have--what say our judges?"
"The game is up," replied the Lord of Ross. "I acknowledge myself beat.
Your Highness has won the day."
Another laugh sealed the triumph of the king, and William Hume stared in
amazement at the extraordinary mummery that was acted around him.
"William Hume," said the King, "this is an artifice on thy part to
escape our vengeance. I go to put on the black cap, and to return to
pronounce thy fate. Thou hast admitted the crime; and to lay it on the
devil's back, is only the common way of the wicked."
Lilly, on hearing the mention of the black cap, screamed, the mother
cried for mercy, and the thunderstruck farmer waited to receive his
doom. The king went out, and returned in a short time in the cap of Wat
Wilson, holding in his hand the stolen mace. A new light broke in upon
the mind of the criminal--he perceived at once the identity of the king
and the beggar; and the fears of all were in a moment dispelled.
"Stand up, Lilly Hume and Will Carr," said the monarch.
The voice of royalty sounded like a death-knell in the ears of the
maiden. Her mind ran back to that eventful hour when she told the beggar
the secret of her love; and she felt even yet the hug of the king, and
the royal kiss burning on her lips. She blushed to the temples, and
could scarcely stand without the support of her father, who now, when he
saw how the land lay, had recovered all his fortitude, with a portion of
well-founded hope that the services he performed to the beggar-king
would meet with their reward.
"So your faither, Lilly, will not allow you to marry Will Carr," resumed
James, "because he is puir?"
"Guid Lord!" muttered William to himsel--"hoo comes he to ken that
too?--a family secret that I could scarcely breathe in my ain lug for
its injustice, and now I see to be punished as it deserves."
Lilly hung her head. She could not open her lips. The mention of her
humble love by a king and in the presence of nobles, was so far beyond
the ordinary experience of her obscure life, and held such a contrast to
the secret breathings of her affection in her stolen meetings with her
lover among the broom knowes of Cairnkibbie, that she thought the world
itself was undergoing some extraordinary convulsion. Turning round, she
caught the eye of Will Carr, who, having more courage, infused some
portion of his confidence into the blushing girl.
"Is that true, William Hume?" rejoined James, who despaired of getting
an answer from Lilly.
"Deed, an' it's owre true, yer Highness," answered the farmer; "but I
thought there wasna a mortal on earth knew the circumstance but mysel
and my wife; for, begging your Highness' pardon, I was ashamed to tell
it to the lassie hersel, for fear she might hae communicated it to
Will's freends, wha are decent people, and canna help their poverty."
"Dost thou still stand to thy objection to the match?" again asked
James.
"If your Royal Highness, as Wat Wilson," replied the farmer, smiling,
"could command me and the hail household o' Cairnkibbie to do your
bidding, and turn us round your finger like a piece o' packthread, I
micht hae sma chance o' resistin yer authority as king o' Scotland. I
hae nae objection noo to the match, seem that a king gies oot the bans."
"William Hume," resumed the laughing monarch, "hear thy doom. For the
love thou didst extend and show to our royal person, we give thee a free
grant of the lands of Cairnkibbie, upon this one condition--that thou
consentest to the union of Lilly Hume with Will Carr, to whom we shall,
out of our royal purse, give, as a marriage portion, two hundred marks."
"I canna disobey the command o' Wat Wilson," replied William with a dry
smile. "He has already exercised great authority owre us a', and we
winna throw aff our allegiance in this eventfu day."
A general laugh wound up the scene. The young couple were married, and a
merry wedding they had of it; but there was one great exception to the
general joy, and that was, that although there was many a good dancer
present, and Tam Lutar was not absent, there was not to be seen or heard
the jolly beggar who had, on the former occasion, been the soul of the
Maiden. James became afterwards engaged in more serious concerns, and
there were few who knew anything of his nocturnal exploit. The Humes
were told to keep it a secret; and the lords who were present had too
much regard for their king to expose his good-humoured eccentricities.
When Hume became proprietor of Cairnkibbie, the people speculated; but
little did they know, so well had the secret been kept, that the grant
proceeded from the farmer's supposed misfortune, or that Wat Wilson the
beggar, who danced so jovially at the Maiden, was the individual who had
transformed William Hume from a simple farmer to one of the small Border
lairds who held their heads so high in those days; and far less was it
known that the same individual had brought about the marriage of Lilly
Hume and Will Carr.
Thus have we attempted to describe one of those wild frolics in which
the young King James V. of Scotland occasionally indulged. If he had
lived to an advanced age, his subjects might have had as much reason to
admire the king as they had to love the royal gaberlunzie, who, wherever
he took up his quarters, whether "in a house in Aberdeen," or in the
barn of Cairnkibbie, sent the fire of his spirit of love and fun
throughout all with which he came in contact.
THE PROFESSOR'S TALES.
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF A SON OF THE HILLS.
I have oftentimes thought, what, I dare say, has been thought again and
again by thousands before I was born, and will be thought by as many
millions after I have ceased both to think and speak--I have thought
that, if any one were to give an exact transcript of his feelings and
experience, in early life in particular--without any connecting link
even, beyond that of time and place--such a written record could not
fail to be exceedingly interesting. The novelty of the scene; the
uncloyed character of the feelings; the harpy-clutching nature of the
imagination; the variety of sources within and without, from which
pleasure is derived and is derivable--all these form a mine of
delightful insight, which has not, perhaps, ever yet been exhausted--a
mine conducting to, and losing itself in, that far-away central darkness
which precedes perception, recollection, existence. I remember--and it
is an awful remembrance--the death of my grandmother when I was only
four years old. There she lies in that bed. Alongside of that sheet,
there are my mother and the minister kneeling in prayer. The whisper is
conveyed to the minister's ear--"Sir, she has win to _rest_!" Oh, that
sweet word rest!--rest negative, rest positive--rest from, rest in, rest
amidst a sea of troubles--rest in an ocean of glorious happiness! "Sir,
she has win to rest!" I can never forget the words, nor the look, nor
the place, nor the all which then constituted _me_. The minister pauses
in the middle of a sentence, he rises from his knees, and, taking my
mother's hand in his, as well as mine in the other, he approaches the
bed of death; but, O my soul, what an impression is made upon me! My
grandmother--the figure with the short cloak over her shoulders, the
check apron, the tobacco-box, and the short cutty-pipe--the speaking,
conversing, kind-hearted figure--what is _it now_? Asleep!--but the
eyes are open, and frightfully unmeaning. Asleep!--but the mouth is
somewhat awry, and there is an expression unknown, intolerable,
terrible, all over the countenance.
And this is death! I cannot stand it. I fly to the door--to the brae--to
the hill. I dash my face, shoulders and all, into a bracken bush, and
weep, weep, weep myself asleep. When I awake, it is a dream; I am amused
with the white table-cloth, the bread and cheese, and wine bottle. I am
amused with the plate, salt, and earth placed on the breast of the
corpse. I am amused with the coffining; but, most of all--oh,
delightful!--with the funeral--the well-dressed people--the numbers, the
services of bun, shortbread, wine, and spirits; and above all, with
various little bits and drops which fall to my share. I firmly believe I
got fuddled on the occasion. Such is man; for men are but children of a
larger growth. Now, there is only _one_ event, circumstance, incident,
firmly and fairly told--and it is interesting exceedingly: how
interesting, then, would all the incidents and events of early life be,
were they only narrated with equal faithfulness! So one may say; but, in
so saying, they will be misled and mislead. There are few things which I
remember so vividly as this. Death! I have seen thee since! Thou hast
torn from me mother, brother, friend, and, above and beyond all, thou
hast been betwixt these arms, murdering her whom my soul loved--the
partner of my life--the mother of my babes--the balm of my soul--the
glory, ornament, and boast of my existence; and yet, and yet my
grandmother's death is more vividly imprinted on brain and heart than
any other event of a similar nature. Proof impressions sell dear! and
proof feelings--oh, how deep are the lines, how indelible the
engravings! They are cut on steel with a graving tool of adamant. The
heart and the brain must be reduced to their elemental dust, ere these
impressions can wear out--and yet I was only four years and six months
old!