In olden time, when the contiguous countries of England and Scotland
held no amicable relation to each other, it may well be supposed that
the mountain ridges forming the line of demarcation between the two
territories would frequently be the scene of fierce contention between a
rival people. The proximity of the English and Scots in the
neighbourhood of the border line, and the inoperative character of the
laws, arising from the disorders of the feudal system, which filled both
countries with chiefs and petty governors, eager, and sufficiently
powerful, to make aggressions and reprisals on each other, are of
themselves a sufficient explanation of the causes which led to those
continued strifes called the Border warfare. The deep enmity of the
hostile parties towards each other overthrew, in a good measure, all
moral obligation and honourable feeling.
Incursions were frequently made from the north, less for the purpose of
contention in arms, than for committing depredations on cattle and
property. Hence the name of freebooters came to be applied to the Border
clans, and ultimately with much justice; for in course of time it was
deemed matter of indifference by either party whether they preyed on
their rival neighbours, or on their own countrymen. Instances are,
however, on record in which the Border feuds were distinguished by a
romantic and chivalrous feeling, that may well be supposed to have
animated great and noble minds, in an age when the most powerful
sceptre was the sword, and martial prowess the most estimable quality
of mankind:--
"Those were the days, the olden days
When Border feuds ran high,
And the men of the North ofttimes sallied forth
On deeds of chivalry.
O! heaven gie rest to the souls of a'
Wha lived in those times o' disorder;
There were gude men and brave in the olden day,
On baith sides o' the Border."
Summoning forth "far forgotten things," we will refer to a desperate
struggle between two rival clans of Border freebooters, under the
stupendous rocks of Honister Crag and Yew Crag.
Late in the evening, at the autumnal season of a year over which passing
centuries have thrown a darkening veil, the weary and harassed Borderers
of Borrowdale were summoned together by the sound of the slogan, or
war-cry of their band. The scouts, who had been sent forth in different
directions, to give timely notice of any hostile approaches, returned to
their chief, who sat ruminating by his watch-fire, on a neighbouring
mountain, and reported the sudden irruption of the Scottish clan, that
had swept before them a rich booty of cattle, lying at the foot of
Borrowdale hawse. By passing in small companies through
well-reconnoitred passes of the mountains, the Scots had contrived to
elude the observation of the night guard, till their whole force had
again united. They then divided into two companies, one of which drove
their booty towards the frontier, and the other remained to protect the
rear, and baffle their opponents, if they attempted pursuit. The
war-shout of the despoiled clan rung through the mountains, and the
Cumberland men repaired one and all to their chief, each one mounted on
his pricker--a name applied to their small horses--which were both
fleet and sufficiently spirited to overcome a laborious ascent into the
hills.
Among the Scottish freebooters none were found possessed of greater
skill and daring, in the management of their predatory excursions, than
the Græmes. This clan it was who had undertaken and accomplished the
capture of Borrowdale, which even in those days of enterprise, was
looked upon as an astonishing instance of successful temerity. These
troopers were commanded by the younger Græme, a bold, hardy chieftain;
and his aged father, the Ossian of the clan, followed in all their
expeditions to infuse warlike feeling into their hearts, by reciting
"the tale of other times," and the bold enterprises of his past days,
when the feebleness of age had not arrived.
All the Border clans cherished feelings of deadly animosity against each
other; and this hereditary hate was even greater than their desire for
plunder. When the division of the Highland band, under the direction of
the two Græmes, had succeeded in diverting the enemy from the track
which their comrades had taken, they separated among the hills, there to
wait the signal, when a favourable opportunity should present for
rushing down in all their strength upon the Cumberland men, and working
out the measure of their hatred against them.
After fruitless attempts to recover the spoils which had been wrested
from them, the English Borderers resolved to retaliate on the Scottish
frontier; and, accordingly, collecting all their power, commenced their
march through the desolate region of Borrowdale. Information was
speedily conveyed to the younger Græme, that the enemy were approaching.
The appointed signal was then given, and the Highlanders once more
crowded round their leader. The Scottish chief determined to suspend his
attack till the enemy should arrive in the defile between Honister Crag
and Yew Crag, when his followers would have the advantage of assailing
their foe from the overhanging precipices. They marched along in single
rank, through the passes of the mountains, towards the appointed spot,
singing their favourite war-song:--
"Sons of the mountain chief, on to the battle-field!
Clansmen and Highlanders, grasp ye the sword and shield;
On the rock or in defile, we'll not be ensnared,
When the foe is awaiting, are we not prepared?
On, let us meet them, our bucklers shall cover us;
Our refuge the hills, and heaven's vault over us:
O'er the steep of the crag, down the side of the scar,
Let us rush on the foe, in the thunder of war.
Their bugles sound cheerly: Behold them advancing!
With waving of plumes, and their chargers all prancing;
Yet the mountains that ring to their proud horses' tread,
They shall echo ere long to the fall of the dead!"
The Highlanders concealed themselves behind the rocky fragments strewn
on the side of Yew Crag, till the English, advancing at a rapid rate,
had reached the point in Gatesgarthdale, which lay directly opposite to
their ambuscade. Young Græme sprung on his feet, and waved his claymore
towards the enemy. The signal was answered by a volley of musketry from
the hill; and instantly several horses, without riders, flew through the
defile. The elder Græme singled forth the English leader. Sinking on one
knee, he raised his musket with deadly certainty, and ere the sound of
the death-shot could reach his victim, the white steed that bore him was
left unfettered by the rein.
Furious at the loss of their leader, the troopers wheeled their horses
round the precipice on which the Græmes and a few of their followers
were stationed; and before the remainder of the Highland band could
afford succour, the younger Græme, together with several of his clan,
had met the death of heroes. The English then dashed forward on their
expedition, not caring to continue the battle under the disadvantages of
their position.
The Highlanders gathered round their fallen leader, and raised loud
lament for the warrior, whose blood was streaming in their view. The old
chieftain gazed wildly on his son; and his frame, which seventy winters
had not palsied, shook with tremor. The body was laid in an opening on
the hill-side, and every clansman brought a fragment of rock, to raise a
rude memorial to his chief. On the summit of the pile they placed his
bonnet, shield, and claymore, that neither friend nor foe should
thereafter pass it with irreverence.