--Come and see! trust thine own eyes, A fearful sign stands
in the house of life, An enemy; a fiend lurks close behind ...
The radiance of thy planet--O be warned!
Coleridge, from Schiller.
The belief in astrology was almost universal in the middle of the
seventeenth century; it began to waver and become doubtful towards
the close of that period, and in the beginning of the eighteenth
the art fell into general disrepute, and even under general
ridicule. Yet it still retained many partisans even in the seats
of learning. Grave and studious men were loath to relinquish the
calculations which had early become the principal objects of their
studies, and felt reluctant to descend from the predominating
height to which a supposed insight into futurity, by the power of
consulting abstract influences and conjunctions, had exalted them
over the rest of mankind.
Among those who cherished this imaginary privilege with undoubting
faith, was an old clergyman, with whom Mannering was placed during
his youth. He wasted his eves in observing the stars, and his
brains in calculations upon their various combinations. His pupil,
in early youth, naturally caught some portion of his enthusiasm,
and laboured for a time to make himself master of the technical
process of astrological research; so that, before he became
convinced of its absurdity, William Lilly himself would have
allowed him "a curious fancy and piercing judgment in resolving a
question of nativity."
On the present occasion, he arose as early in the morning as the
shortness of the day permitted, and proceeded to calculate the
nativity of the young heir of Ellangowan. He undertook the task
secundum artem, as well to keep up appearances, as from a sort of
curiosity to know whether he yet remembered, and could practise,
the imaginary science. He accordingly erected his scheme, or figure
of heaven, divided into its twelve houses, placed the planets
therein according to the Ephemeris, and rectified their position to
the hour and moment of the nativity. Without troubling our readers
with the general prognostications which judicial astrology would
have inferred from these circumstances, in this diagram there was
one significator, which pressed remarkably upon our astrologers
attention. Mars having dignity in the cusp of the twelfth house,
threatened captivity, or sudden and violent death, to the native;
and Mannering having recourse to those further rules by which
diviners pretend to ascertain the vehemency of this evil direction,
observed from the result, that three periods would be particularly
hazardous--his fifth--his tenth--his twenty-first year.
It was somewhat remarkable, that Mannering had once before tried a
similar piece of foolery, at the instance of Sophia Wellwood, the
young lady to whom he was attached, and that a similar conjunction
of planetary influence threatened her with death, or imprisonment,
in her thirty-ninth year. She was at this time eighteen; so that,
according to the result of the scheme in both cases, the same year
threatened her with the same misfortune that was presaged to the
native or infant, whom that night had introduced into the world.
Struck with this coincidence, Mannering repeated his calculations;
and the result approximated the events predicted, until, at length,
the same month, and day of the month, seemed assigned as the period
of peril to both.
It will be readily believed, that, in mentioning this circumstance,
we lay no weight whatever upon the pretended information thus
conveyed. But it often happens, such is our natural love for the
marvellous, that we willingly contribute our own efforts to beguile
our better judgments. Whether the coincidence which I have
mentioned was really one of those singular chances, which sometimes
happen against all ordinary calculations; or whether Mannering,
bewildered amid the arithmetical labyrinth and technical jargon of
astrology, had insensibly twice followed the same clew to guide him
out of the maze; or whether his imagination, seduced by some point
of apparent resemblance, lent its aid to make the similitude
between the two operations more exactly accurate than it might
otherwise have been, it is impossible to guess; but the impression
upon his mind, that the results exactly corresponded, was vividly
and undelibly strong.
He could not help feeling surprise at a coincidence so singular and
unexpected. "Does the devil mingle in the dance, to avenge himself
for our trifling with an art said to be of magical origin? Or is it
possible, as Bacon and Sir Thomas Browne admit, that there is some
truth in a sober and regulated astrology, and that the influence of
the stars is not to be denied, though the due application of it, by
the knaves--who pretend to practise the art, is greatly to be
suspected?"--A moment's consideration of the subject induced him
to dismiss this opinion as fantastical, and only sanctioned by
those learned men. Either because they durst not at once shock
the universal prejudices of their age, or because they themselves
were not altogether freed from the contagious influence of a
prevailing superstition. Yet the result of his calculations in
these two instances left so unpleasing an impression on his mind,
that, like Prospero, he mentally relinquished his art, and
resolved, neither in jest nor earnest, ever again to practise
judicial astrology.
He hesitated a good deal what he should say to the Laird of
Ellangowan, concerning the horoscope of his first-born; and, at
length, resolved plainly to tell him the judgment which he had
formed, at the same time acquainting him--with the futility of the
rules of art on which he had proceeded. With this resolution he
walked out upon the terrace.
If the view of the scene around Ellangowan had been pleasing by
moonlight, it lost none of its beauty by the light of the morning
sun. The land, even in the month of November, smiled under its
influence. A steep, but regular ascent, led from the terrace to
the neighbouring eminence, and conducted Mannering to the front of
the old castle. It consisted of two massive round towers,
projecting, deeply and darkly, at the extreme angles of a curtain,
or flat wall, which united them, and thus protecting the main
entrance, that opened through a lofty arch in the centre of the
curtain into the inner court of the castle. The arms of the
family, carved in freestone, frowned over the gateway, and the
portal showed the spaces arranged by the architect for lowering the
portcullis, and raising the drawbridge. A rude farm-gate, made of
young fir-trees nailed together, now formed the only safeguard of
this once formidable entrance. The esplanade in front of the castle
commanded a noble prospect.
The dreary scene of desolation, through which Mannering's road had
lain on the preceding evening, was excluded from the view by some
rising ground, and the landscape showed a pleasing alternation of
hill and dale, intersected by a river, which was in some places
visible, and hidden in others, where it rolled betwixt deep and
wooded banks. The spire of a church, and the appearance of some
houses, indicated the situation of a village at the place where the
stream had its junction with the ocean. The vales seemed well
cultivated, the little enclosures into which they were divided
skirting the bottom of the hills, and sometimes carrying their
lines of straggling hedge-rows a little way up the ascent. Above
these were green pastures, tenanted chiefly by herds of black
cattle, then the staple commodity of the country--, whose distant
low gave no unpleasing animation to the landscape. The remoter
hills were of a sterner character, and, at still greater distance,
swelled into mountains of dark heath, bordering the horizon with a
screen which gave a defined and limited boundary to the cultivated
country, and added, at the same time, the pleasing idea, that it
was sequestered and solitary. The sea-coast, which Mannering now
saw in its extent, corresponded in variety and beauty with the
inland view. In some places it rose into tall rocks, frequently
crowned with the ruins of old buildings, towers, or beacons, which,
according to tradition, were placed within sight of each other,
that, in times of invasion or civil war, they might. communicate by
signal for mutual defence and protection. Ellangowan castle was by
far the most extensive and important of these ruins, and asserted,
from size and situation, the superiority which its founders were
said once to have possessed among the chiefs and nobles of the
district. In other places, the shore was of a more gentle
description, indented with small bays, where the land sloped
smoothly down, or sent into the sea promontories covered with wood.
A scene so different from what last night's journey had presaged,
produced a proportional effect upon Mannering. Beneath his eye lay
the modern house; an awkward mansion, indeed, in point of
architecture, but well situated, and with a warm, pleasant
exposure.--How happily, thought our hero, would life glide on in
such a retirement! On the one hand, the striking remnants of
ancient grandeur, with the secret consciousness of family pride
which they inspire; on the other, enough of modern elegance and
comfort to satisfy every moderate wish. Here then, and with thee
Sophia!--
We shall not pursue a lover's day-dream any farther. Mannering
stood a minute with his arms folded, and then turned to the ruined
castle.
On entering the gateway, he found that the rude magnificence of the
inner court amply corresponded with the grandeur of the exterior.
On the one side ran a range of windows lofty and large, divided by
carved mullions of stone, which had once lighted the great hall of
the castle; on the other, were various buildings of different
heights and dates, yet so united as to present to the eye a certain
general effect of uniformity of front. The doors and windows were
ornamented with projections exhibiting rude specimens of sculpture
and tracery, partly entire and partly broken down, partly covered
by ivy and trailing plants, which grew luxuriantly among the
ruins. That end of the court which faced the entrance had also
been formerly closed by a range of buildings; but owing, it was
said, to its having been battered by the ships of the Parliament
under Deane, during the long civil war, this part of the castle was
much more ruinous than the rest, and exhibited a great chasm,
through which Mannering could observe the sea, and the little
vessel (an armed lugger) which retained her station in the centre
of the bay. [*The outline of the above description, as far as the
supposed ruins are concerned, will be found somewhat to resemble
the noble remains of Carlaverock castle, six or seven miles from
Dumfries, and near to Lochar-moss.]
While Mannering was gazing round the ruins, he heard from the
interior of an apartment on the left hand the voice of the gipsy he
had seen on the preceding evening. He soon found an aperture,
through which he could observe her without being himself visible;
and could not help feeling, that her figure, her employment, and
her situation, conveyed the exact impression of an ancient sibyl.
She sat upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved
apartment, part of which she had swept clean to afford a smooth
space for the evolutions of her spindle. A strong sunbeam, through
a lofty and narrow window, fell upon her wild dress and features,
and afforded her light for her occupation; the rest of the
apartment was very gloomy. Equipt in a habit which mingled the
national dress of the Scottish common people with something of an
Eastern costume, she spun a thread, drawn from wool of three
different colours, black, white, and gray, by assistance of those
ancient implements of house-wifely, now almost banished from the
land, the distaff and spindle. As she spun, she sung what seemed
to be a charm. Mannering, after in vain attempting to make himself
master of the exact words of her song, afterwards attempted the
following paraphrase of what, from a few intelligible phrases, he
concluded to be its purport.
Twist ye, twine ye! even so Mingle shades of joy and woe, Hope, and
fear, and peace, and strife, In the thread of human life.
While the mystic twist is spinning, And the infant's life
beginning, Dimly seen through twilight bending, Lo, what varied
shapes attending!
Passions wild, and Follies vain, Pleasures soon exchanged for pain
Doubt, and Jealousy and Fear, In the magic dance appear.
Now they wax, and now they dwindle, Whirling with the whirling
spindle. Twist ye, twine ye! even so Mingle human bliss and woe.
Ere our translator, or rather our free imitator, had arranged these
stanzas in his head, and while he was yet hammering out a rhyme for
dwindle, the task of the sibyl was accomplished, or her wool was
expended. She took the spindle, now charged with her labours, and,
undoing the thread gradually, measured it, by casting it over her
elbow, and bringing each loop round between her forefinger and
thumb. When she had measured it out, she muttered to herself--"A
hank, but not a haill ane--the full years o' three scare and ten,
but thrice broken, and thrice to oop (ie. to unite); he'll be a
lucky lad an he win through wi't."
Our hero was about to speak to the prophetess, when a voice, hoarse
as the waves with which it mingled, halloo'd twice, and with
increasing impatience--"Meg, Meg Merrilies!--Gipsy--hag--tousand
deyvils!"
"I am coming, I am coming, Captain," answered Meg; and in a moment
or two the impatient commander whom she addressed made his
appearance from the broken part of the ruins.
He was apparently a seafaring man, rather under the middle size,
and with a countenance bronzed by a thousand conflicts with the
north-east wind. His frame was prodigiously muscular, strong, and
thick-set; so that it seemed as if a man of much greater height
would have been an inadequate match in any close personal
conflict. He was hard-favoured, and, which was worse, his face
bore nothing of the insouciance, the careless frolicsome jollity
and vacant curiosity of a sailor on shore. These qualities,
perhaps, as much as any others, contribute to the high popularity
of our seamen, and the general good inclination which our society
expresses towards them. Their gallantry, courage, and hardihood,
are qualities which excite reverence, and perhaps rather humble
pacific landsmen in their presence; and neither respect, nor a
sense of humiliation, are feelings easily combined with a familiar
fondness towards those who inspire. them. But the boyish frolics,
the exulting high spirits, the unreflecting mirth of a sailor, when
enjoying himself on shore, temper the more formidable points of his
character. There was nothing like these in this man's face; on the
contrary, a surly and even savage scowl appeared to darken features
which would have been harsh and unpleasant under any expression or
modification. "Where are you, Mother Deyvilson?" he said, with
somewhat of a foreign accent, though speaking perfectly good
English. "Donner and blitzen! we have been staying this half-hour.
--Come, bless the good ship and the voyage, and be cursed to ye
for a hag of Satan!"
At this moment he noticed Mannering, who, from the position which
he had taken to watch Meg Merrilies's incantations, had the
appearance of some one who was concealing himself, being half
hidden by the buttress behind which he stood. The Captain, for such
he styled himself, made a sudden and startled pause, and thrust his
right hand into his bosom, between his jacket and waistcoat, as if
to draw some weapon. "What cheer, brother?--you seem on the
outlook--eh?"
Ere Mannering, somewhat struck by the man's gesture and insolent
tone of voice, had made any answer, the gipsy emerged from her
vault and joined the stranger. He questioned her in an undertone,
looking at Mannering--"A shark alongside; eh?"
She answered in the same tone of under-dialogue, using the cant
language of her tribe--"Cut ben Whids, and stow them--a gentry
cove of the ken." [* Meaning a Stop your uncivil tongue--that is a
gentleman from the house below.]
The fellow's cloudy visage cleared up. "The top of the morning to
you, sir; I find you are a visitor of my friend Mr. Bertram--I beg
pardon, but I took you for another sort of a person."
Mannering replied, "And you, sir, I presume, are the master of that
vessel in the bay?"
"Ay, ay, sir; I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick, of the Yungfrauw
Hagenslaapen, well known on this coast; I am not ashamed of my
name, nor of my vessel,--no, nor of my cargo neither, for that
matter."
"I dare say you have no reason, sir."
"Tousand donner--no; I'm all in the way of fair trade--just
loaded yonder at Douglas, in the Isle of Man--neat cogniac--real
hyson and souchong--Mechlin lace, if you want any--Right
cogniac--We bumped ashore a hundred kegs last night."
"Really, sir, I am only a traveller, and have no sort of occasion
for anything of the kind at present."
"Why, then, good-morning to you, for business must be minded--
unless ye'll go aboard and take schnaps? [*A dram of liquor.]--you
shall have a pouch-full of tea ashore.--Dirk Hatteraick knows how
to be civil."
There was a mixture of impudence, hardihood, and suspicious fear
about this man, which was inexpressibly disgusting. His manners
were those of a ruffian, conscious of the suspicion attending his
character, yet aiming to bear it down by the affectation of a
careless and hardy familiarity. Mannering briefly rejected his
proffered civilities; and after a surly good-morning, Hatteraick
retired with the gipsy to that part of the ruins from which he had
first made his appearance. A very narrow staircase here went down
to the beach, intended probably for the convenience of the garrison
during a siege. By this stair, the couple, equally amiable in
appearance, and respectable by profession, descended to the
seaside. The soi-disant captain embarked in a small boat with two
men who appeared to wait for him, and the gipsy remained on the
shore, reciting or singing, and gesticulating with great vehemence.