--Yes, ye moss-green walls, Ye towers defenceless, I
revisit ye Shame-stricken! Where are all your trophies
now? Your thronged courts, the revelry, the tumult, That
spoke the grandeur of my house, the homage Of neighbouring
Barons?
Mysterious Mother.
Entering the castle of Ellangowan by a postern door-way, which
showed symptoms of having been once secured with the most jealous
care, Brown (whom, since he has set font upon the property of his
fathers, we shall hereafter call by his father's name of Bertram)
wandered from one ruined apartment to another, surprised at the
massive strength of some parts of the building, the rude and
impressive magnificence of others, and the great extent of the
whole. In two of these rooms, close beside each other, he saw
signs of recent habitation. In one small apartment were empty
bottles, half-gnawed bones, and dried fragments of bread. In the
vault which adjoined, and which was defended by a strong door, then
left open, he observed a considerable quantity of straw, and in
both were the relies of recent fires. How little was it possible
for Bertram to conceive, that such trivial circumstances were
closely connected with incidents affecting his prosperity, his
honour, perhaps his life!
After satisfying his curiosity by a hasty glance through the
interior of the castle, Bertram now advanced through the great
gateway which opened to the land, and paused to look upon the noble
landscape which it commanded. Having in vain endeavoured to guess
the position of Woodbourne, and having nearly ascertained that of
Kippletringan, he turned to take a parting look at the stately
ruins which he had just traversed. He admired the massive and
picturesque effect of the huge round towers, which, flanking the
gateway, gave a double portion of depth and majesty to the high yet
gloomy arch under which it opened. The, carved stone escutcheon of
the ancient family, bearing for their arms three wolves' heads, was
hung diagonally beneath the helmet and crest, the latter being a
wolf couchant pierced with an arrow. On either side stood as
supporters, in full human size, or larger, a salvage man proper, to
use the language of heraldry, wreathed and cinctured, and holding
in his hand an oak-tree eradicated, that is, torn up by the roots.
"And the powerful barons who owned this blazonry," thought Bertram,
pursuing the usual train of ideas which flows upon the mind at such
scenes,--"do their posterity continue to possess the lands which
they had laboured to fortify so strongly? or are they wanderers,
ignorant perhaps even of the fame or power of their forefathers,
while their hereditary possessions are held by a race of strangers?
Why is it?" he thought, continuing to follow out the succession of
ideas which the scene prompted, "why is it that some scenes awaken
thoughts, which belong as it were to dreams of early and shadowy
recollection, such as my old Brahmin Moonshie would have ascribed
to a state of previous existence? Is it the visions of our sleep
that float confusedly in our memory, and are recalled by the
appearance of such real objects as in any respect correspond to the
phantoms they presented to our imagination? How often do we find
ourselves in society which we have never before met, and yet feel
impressed with a mysterious and ill-defined consciousness, that
neither the scene, the speakers, nor the subject are entirely new;
nay, feel as if we could anticipate that part of the conversation
which has not yet taken place! It is even so with me while I gaze
upon that ruin; nor can I divest myself of the idea, that these
massive towers, and that dark gateway, retiring through its
deep-vaulted and ribbed arches, and dimly lighted by the courtyard
beyond, are not entirely strange to me. Can it be that they have
been familiar to me in infancy, and that I am to seek in their
vicinity those friends of whom my childhood has still a tender
though faint remembrance, and whom I early exchanged for such
severe taskmasters? Yet Brown, who I think would not have deceived
me, always told me I was brought off from the eastern coast, after
a skirmish in which my father was killed; and I do remember enough
of a horrid scene of violence to strengthen his account."
It happened that the spot upon which young Bertram chanced to
station himself for the better viewing the castle, was nearly the
same on which his father had died. It was marked by a large old
oak-tree, the only one on the esplanade, and which, having been
used for executions by the barons of Ellangowan, was called the
justice Tree. It chanced, and the coincidence was remarkable, that
Glossin was this morning engaged with a person, whom he was in the
habit of consulting in such matters, concerning some projected
repairs, and a large addition to the house of Ellangowan, and that,
having no great pleasure in remains so intimately connected with
the grandeur of the former inhabitants, he had resolved to use the
stones of the ruinous castle in his new edifice. Accordingly he
came up the bank, followed by the land-surveyor mentioned on a
former occasion, who was also in the habit of acting as a sort of
architect in case of necessity. In drawing the plans, etc.,
Glossin was in the custom of relying upon his own skill. Bertram's
back was towards them as they came up the ascent, and he was quite
shrouded by the branches of the large tree, so that Glossin was not
aware of the presence of the stranger till he was close upon him.
"Yes, sir, as I have often said before to you, the Old Place is a
perfect quarry of hewn stone, and it would be better for the estate
if it were all down, since it is only a den for smugglers. "At
this instant Bertram turned short round upon Glossin at the
distance of two yards only, and said--"Would you destroy this
fine old castle, sir?"
His face, person, and voice, were so exactly those of his father in
his best days, that Glossin, hearing his exclamation, and seeing
such a sudden apparition in the shape of his patron, and on nearly
the very spot where he had expired, almost thought the grave had
given up its dead! --He staggered back two or three paces, as if
he had received a sudden and deadly wound. He instantly recovered,
however, his presence of mind, stimulated by the thrilling
reflection that it was no inhabitant of the other world which stood
before him, but an injured man, whom the slightest want of
dexterity on his part might lead to acquaintance with his rights,
and the means of asserting them to his utter destruction. Yet his
ideas were so much confused by the shock he had received, that his
first question partook of the alarm.
"In the name of God how came you here?" said Glossin.
"How came I here?" repeated Bertram, surprised at the solemnity of
the address. "I landed a quarter of an hour since in the little
harbour beneath the castle, and was employing a moment's leisure in
viewing these fine ruins. I trust there is no intrusion?"
"Intrusion, sir?--no, sir," said Glossin, in some degree recovering
his breath, and then whispered a few words into his companion's
ear, who immediately left him, and descended towards the house.
"Intrusion, sir?--no, sir,--you or any gentleman are welcome to
satisfy your curiosity."
"I thank you, sir," said Bertram. "'They call this the Old Place,
I am informed?"
"Yes, sir; in distinction to the New Place, my house there below."
Glossin, it must be remarked, was, during the following dialogue,
an the one hand eager to learn what local recollections young
Bertram had retained of the scenes of his infancy, and, on the
other, compelled to be extremely cautious in his replies, lest he
should awaken or assist, by some name, phrase, or anecdote, the
slumbering train of association. He suffered, indeed, during the
whole scene, the agonies which he so richly, deserved; yet his
pride and interest, like the fortitude of a North American Indian,
manned him to sustain the tortures inflicted at once by the
contending stings of a guilty conscience, of hatred, of fear, and
of suspicion.
"I wish to ask the name, sir," said Bertram, "of the family to whom
this stately ruin belongs?"
It is my property, sir; my name is Glossin."
"Glossin--Glossin?" repeated Bertram, as if the answer were
somewhat different from what he expected : "I beg your pardon, Mr.
Glossin; I am apt to be very absent.--May I ask if the castle has
been long in your family?"
"It was built, I believe, long ago, by a family called
MacDingawaie," answered Glossin; suppressing for obvious reasons
the more familiar sound of Bertram, which might have awakened the
recollections which he was anxious to lull to rest, and slurring
with an evasive answer the question concerning the endurance of his
own possession.
"And how do you read the half-defaced motto, sir," said Bertram,
"which is upon that scroll above the entablature with the arms?"
"I--I--I really do not exactly know," replied Glossin.
"I should be apt to make it out, 'Our Right makes our Might.' "
"I believe it is something of that kind," said Glossin.
"May I ask, sir," said the stranger, "if it is your family motto?"
"N-n-no--no--not ours. That is, I believe, the motto of the former
people--mine is--mine is--in fact I have had some correspondence
with Mr. Cumming of the Lyon Office in Edinburgh about mine. He
writes me the Glossins anciently bore for a motto, 'He who takes
it, makes it.' "
"If there be any uncertainty, sir, and the case were mine," said
Bertram, "I would assume the old motto, which seems to me the
better of the two."
Glossin, whose tongue by this time clove to the roof of his mouth,
only answered by a nod.
"It is odd enough," said Bertram, fixing his eye upon the
arms and gateway, and partly addressing Glossin, partly as
it were thinking aloud--"it is odd the tricks which our
memory plays us. The remnants of an old prophecy, or song,
or rhyme, of some kind or other, return to my recollection
on hearing that motto--stay--it is a strange jingle of
sounds:
The dark shall be light,
And the wrong made right,
When Bertram's right and Bertram's might
Shall meet on--
I cannot remember the last line--on some particular height--
height is the rhyme, I am sure; but I cannot hit upon the preceding
word."
"Confound your memory," muttered Glossin, "you remember by far too
much of it!"
"There are other rhymes connected with these early recollections,"
continued the young man : "Pray, sir, is there any song current in
this part of the world respecting a daughter of the King of the
Isle of Man eloping with a Scottish knight?"
"I am the worst person in the world to consult upon legendary
antiquities," answered Glossin.
"I could sing such a ballad," said Bertram, "from one end to
another, when I was a boy. You must know I left Scotland, which is
my native country, very young, and those who brought me up
discouraged all my attempts to preserve recollection of my native
land, on account, I believe, of a boyish wish which I had to escape
from their charge."
"Very natural," said Glossin, but speaking as if his utmost efforts
were unable to unseal his lips beyond the width of a quarter of an
inch, so that his whole utterance was a kind of compressed
muttering, very different from the round, bold, bullying voice with
which he usually spoke. Indeed his appearance and demeanour during
all this conversation seemed to diminish even his strength and
stature; so that he appeared to wither into the shadow of himself,
now advancing one foot, now the other, now stooping and wriggling
his shoulders, now fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat, now
clasping his hands together,--in short, he was the picture of a
mean-spirited shuffling rascal in the very agonies of detection. To
these appearances Bertram was totally inattentive,--being dragged
on as it were by the current of his own associations. Indeed,
although he addressed Glossin, he was not so much thinking of him,
as arguing upon the embarrassing state of his own feelings and
recollection. "Yes," he said, "I preserved my language among the
sailors, most of whom spoke English, and when I could get into a
corner by myself, I used to sing all that song over from beginning
to end--I have forgot it all now--but I remember the tune well,
though I cannot guess what should at present so strongly recall it
to my memory."
He took his flageolet from his pocket, and played a simple melody.
Apparently the tune awoke the corresponding associations of a
damsel, who, close beside a fine spring about half-way down the
descent, and which had once supplied the castle with water, was
engaged in bleaching linen. She immediately took up the song:
"Are these the Links of Forth, she said, Or are they the crooks of
Dee. Or the hannie woods of Warroch Head That I so fain would
see?"
"By heaven," said Bertram, "it is the very ballad. I must learn
these words from the girl."
"Confusion!" thought Glossin; "if I cannot put a stop to this, all
will be out. Oh, the devil take all ballads, and ballad-makers,
and ballad-singers! and that d-d jade too, to set up her
pipe!--You will have time enough for this on some other occasion,"
he said aloud; "at present"--(for now he saw his emissary with two
or three men coming up the bank),--"at present we must have some
more serious conversation together."
"How do you mean, sir?" said Bertram, turning short upon him, and
not liking the tone which he made use of.
"Why, sir, as to that--I believe your name is Brown?" said Glossin.
"And what of that, sir?"
Glossin looked over his shoulder to see how near his party had
approached; they were coming fast on.
"Vanbeest Brown? if I mistake not."
"And what of that, sir?" said Bertram, with increasing astonishment
and displeasure.
"Why, in that case," said Glossin, observing his friends had now
got upon the level space close beside them--"in that case you are
my prisoner in the king's name!"--At the same time he stretched his
hand towards Bertram's collar, while two of the men who had come up
seized upon his arms; he shook himself, however, free of their
grasp by a violent effort, in which he pitched the most
pertinacious down the bank, and, drawing his cutlass, stood on the
defensive, while those who had felt his strength recoiled from his
presence, and gazed at a safe distance. "Observe," he called out
at the same time, "that I have no purpose to resist legal
authority; satisfy me that you have a magistrates warrant, and are
authorised to make this arrest, and I will obey it quietly; but let
no man who loves his life venture to approach me, till I am
satisfied for what crime, and by whose authority, I am
apprehended."
Glossin then caused one of the officers show a warrant for the
apprehension of Vanbeest Brown, accused of the crime of wilfully
and maliciously shooting at Charles Hazlewood, younger of
Hazlewood, with an intent to kill, and also of other crimes and
misdemeanours, and which appointed him, having been so apprehended,
to be brought before the next magistrate for examination. The
warrant being formal, and the fact such as he could not deny,
Bertram threw down his weapon, and submitted himself to the
officers, who, flying on him with eagerness corresponding to their
former pusillanimity, were about to load him with irons, alleging
the strength and activity which he had displayed, as a
justification of this severity. But Glossin was ashamed or afraid
to permit this unnecessary insult, and directed the prisoner to be
treated with all the decency, and even respect, that was consistent
with safety. Afraid, however, to introduce him into his own house,
where still further subjects of recollection might have been
suggested, and anxious at the same time to cover his own
proceedings by the sanction of another's authority, he ordered his
carriage (for he had lately set up a carriage) to be got ready, and
in the meantime directed refreshments to be given to the prisoner
and the officers, who were consigned to one of the rooms in the old
castle, until the means of conveyance for examination before a
magistrate should be provided.