[Frontispiece: "He visited again and again the fountain in the grove,
and at last won from the lady the acceptance of his suit."--_p._ 60.]
THE
FAA'S REVENGE
And Other Tales
By
JOHN MACKAY WILSON,
AND OTHERS.
London:
GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE,
AND EDINBURGH.
Contents
THE FAA'S REVENGE . . . . . . . J. M. Wilson
THE RIVAL NIGHTCAPS . . . . . . Alexander Campbell
THE STORY OF CLARA DOUGLAS . . Walter Logan
COUNTRY QUARTERS . . . . . . . Theodore Martin
THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER . . . . Alexander Campbell
MAY DARLING . . . . . . . . . . J. F. Smith
MORTLAKE: A LEGEND OF MORTON . James Maidment
MAJOR WEIR'S COACH . . . . . . George Howell
WE'LL HAVE ANOTHER . . . . . . J. M. Wilson
THE
FAA'S REVENGE
OR THE
Laird of Clennel
BY JOHN MACKAY WILSON.
Brown October was drawing to a close--the breeze had acquired a
degree of sharpness too strong to be merely termed bracing--and the
fire, as the saying is, was becoming the best flower in the garden,
for the hardiest and the latest plants had either shed their leaves,
or their flowers had shrivelled at the breath of approaching
winter--when a stranger drew his seat towards the parlour fire of the
Three-Half-Moons Inn, in Rothbury. He had sat for the space of
half-an-hour when a party entered, who, like himself (as appeared
from their conversation), were strangers, or rather visitors of the
scenery, curiosities, and antiquities in the vicinity. One of them
having ordered the waiter to bring each of them a glass of brandy and
warm water, without appearing to notice the presence of the first
mentioned stranger, after a few remarks on the objects of interest in
the neighbourhood, the following conversation took place amongst
them:--
"Why," said one, "but even Rothbury here, secluded as it is from the
world, and shut out from the daily intercourse of men, is a noted
place. It was here that the ancient and famous northern bard, and
unrivalled ballad writer, Bernard Rumney, was born, bred, and died.
Here, too, was born Dr Brown, who, like Young and Home, united the
characters of divine and dramatist, and was the author of
'_Barbarossa_,' '_The Cure of Saul_,' and other works of which
posterity and his country are proud. The immediate neighbourhood,
also, was the birthplace of the inspired boy, the heaven-taught
mathematician, George Coughran, who knew no rival, and who bade fair
to eclipse the glory of Newton, but whom death struck down ere he had
reached the years of manhood."
"Why, I can't tell," said another; "I don't know much about what
you've been talking of; but I know, for one thing, that Rothbury was
a famous place for every sort of games; and, at Fastren's E'en times,
the rule was, every male inhabitant above eight years of age to pay a
shilling, or out to the foot-ball. It was noted for its gamecocks,
too--they were the best breed on the Borders."
"May be so," said the first speaker; "but though I should be loath to
see the foot-ball, or any other innocent game which keeps up a manly
spirit, put down, yet I do trust that the brutal practice of
cock-fighting will be abolished, not only on the Borders, but
throughout every country which professes the name of Christian; and I
rejoice that the practice is falling into disrepute. But, although
my hairs are not yet honoured with the silver tints of age, I am old
enough to remember, that, when a boy at school on the Scottish side
of the Border, at every Fastren's E'en which you have spoken of,
every schoolboy was expected to provide a cock for the battle, or
main, and the teacher or his deputy presided as umpire. The same
practice prevailed on the southern Border. It is a very old, savage
amusement, even in this country; and perhaps the preceptors of youth,
in former days, considered it classical, and that it would instil
into their pupils sentiments of emulation; inasmuch as the practice
is said to have taken rise from Themistocles perceiving two cocks
tearing at and fighting with each other, while marching his army
against the Persians, when he called upon his soldiers to observe
them, and remarked that they neither fought for territory, defence of
country, nor for glory, but they fought because the one would not
yield to, or be defeated by, the other; and he desired his soldiers
to take a moral lesson from the barn-door fowls. Cock-fighting thus
became among the heathen Greeks a political precept and a religious
observance--and the _Christian_ inhabitants of Britain, disregarding
the _religious and political moral_, kept up the practice, adding to
it more disgusting barbarity, for _their amusement_.
"Coom," said a third, who, from his tongue, appeared to be a thorough
Northumbrian, "we wur talking about Rothbury, but you are goin' to
give us a regular sarmin on cock-fighting. Let's hae none o' that.
You was saying what clever chaps had been born here--but none o' ye
mentioned Jamie Allan, the gipsy and Northumberland piper, who was
born here as weel as the best o' them. But I hae heard that
Rothbury, as weel as Yetholm and Tweedmouth Moor, was a great resort
for the Faa or gipsy gangs in former times. Now, I understand that
thae folk were a sort o' bastard Egyptians; and though I am nae
scholar, it strikes me forcibly that the meaning o' the word
_gipsies_ is just _Egypts_, or _Gypties_--a contraction and
corruption o' _Gyptian_!"
"Gipsies," said he who spoke of Rumney and Brown, and abused the
practice of cock-fighting, "still do in some degree, and formerly did
in great numbers, infest this county; and I will tell you a story
concerning them."
"Do so," said the thorough Northumbrian; "I like a story when it's
weel put thegither. The gipsies were queer folk. I've heard my
faither tell many a funny thing about them, when he used to whistle
'Felton Loanin,' which was made by awd piper Allan--Jamie's faither."
And here the speaker struck up a lively air, which, to the stranger
by the fire, seemed a sort of parody on the well-known tune of
"Johnny Cope."
The other then proceeded with his tale, thus:--
You have all heard of the celebrated Johnny Faa, the Lord and Earl of
Little Egypt, who penetrated into Scotland in the reign of James IV.,
and with whom that gallant monarch was glad to conclude a treaty.
Johnny was not only the king, but the first of the Faa gang of whom
we have mention. I am not aware that gipsies get the name of Faas
anywhere but upon the Borders; and though it is difficult to account
for the name satisfactorily, it is said to have its origin from a
family of the name of _Fall_ or _Fa'_, who resided here (in
Rothbury), and that their superiority in their cunning and desperate
profession, gave the same cognomen to all and sundry who followed the
same mode of life upon the Borders. One thing is certain, that the
name _Faa_ not only was given to individuals whose surname might be
_Fall_, but to the Winters and Clarkes--_id genus omne_--gipsy
families well known on the Borders. Since waste lands, which were
their hiding-places and resorts, began to be cultivated, and
especially since the sun of knowledge snuffed out the taper of
superstition and credulity, most of them are beginning to form a part
of society, to learn trades of industry, and live with men. Those
who still prefer their father's vagabond mode of life--finding that,
in the northern counties, their old trade of fortune-telling is at a
discount, and that thieving has thinned their tribe and is
dangerous--now follow the more useful and respectable callings of
muggers, besom-makers, and tinkers. I do not know whether, in
etiquette, I ought to give precedence to the besom-maker or tinker;
though, as compared with them, I should certainly suppose that the
"muggers" of the present day belong to the Faa aristocracy; if it be
not that they, like others, derive their nobility from descent of
blood rather than weight of pocket--and that, after all, the mugger
with his encampment, his caravans, horses, crystal, and crockery, is
but a mere wealthy plebeian or _bourgeois_ in the vagrant
community.-- But to my tale.
On a dark and tempestuous night in the December of 1628, a Faa gang
requested shelter in the out-houses of the laird of Clennel. The
laird himself had retired to rest; and his domestics being fewer in
number than the Faas, feared to refuse them their request.
"Ye shall have up-putting for the night, good neighbours," said
Andrew Smith, who was a sort of major-domo in the laird's household,
and he spoke in a tone of mingled authority and terror. "But, sir,"
added he, addressing the chief of the tribe--"I will trust to your
honour that ye will allow none o' your folk to be making free with
the kye, or the sheep, or the poultry--that is, that you will not
allow them to mistake ony o' them for your own, lest it bring me into
trouble. For the laird has been in a fearful rage at some o' your
people lately; and if onything were to be amissing in the morning, or
he kenned that ye had been here, it might be as meikle as my life is
worth."
"Tush, man!" said Willie Faa, the king of the tribe, "ye dree the
death ye'll never die. Willie Faa and his folk maun live as weel as
the laird o' Clennel. But, there's my thumb, not a four-footed
thing, nor a feather o' a bird, shall be touched by me or mine. But
I see the light is out in the laird's chamber window--he is asleep
and high up amang the turrets--and wherefore should ye set human
bodies in byres and stables in a night like this, when your Ha' fire
is bleezing bonnily, and there is room eneugh around it for us a'?
Gie us a seat by the cheek o' your hearth, and ye shall be nae loser;
and I promise ye that we shall be off, bag and baggage, before the
skreigh o' day, or the laird kens where his head lies."
Andrew would fain have refused this request, but he knew that it
amounted to a command; and, moreover, while he had been speaking with
the chief of the tribe, the maid-servants of the household, who had
followed him and the other men-servants to the door, had divers of
them been solicited by the females of the gang to have futurity
revealed to them. And whether it indeed be that curiosity is more
powerful in woman than in man (as it is generally said to be), I do
not profess to determine; but certain it is, that the laird of
Clennel's maid-servants, immediately on the hint being given by the
gipsies, felt a very ardent desire to have a page or two from the
sybilline leaves read to them--at least that part of them which
related to their future husbands, and the time when they should
obtain them. Therefore, they backed the petition or command of King
Willie, and said to Andrew--
"Really, Mr Smith, it would be very unchristian-like to put poor
wandering folk into cauld out-houses on a night like this; and, as
Willie says, there is room enough in the Ha'."
"That may be a' very true, lasses," returned Andrew, "but only ye
think what a dirdum there would be if the laird were to waken or get
wit o't!"
"Fearna the laird," said Elspeth, the wife of King Willie--"I will
lay a spell on him that he canna be roused frae sleep, till I, at
sunrise, wash my hands in Darden Lough."
The sybil then raised her arms and waved them fantastically in the
air, uttering, as she waved them, the following uncouth rhymes by way
of incantation--
"Bonny Queen Mab, bonny Queen Mab,
Wave ye your wee bits o' poppy wings
Ower Clennel's laird, that he may sleep
Till I hae washed where Darden springs."
Thus assured, Andrew yielded to his fears and the wishes of his
fellow-servants, and ushered the Faas into his master's hall for the
night. But scarce had they taken their seats upon the oaken forms
around the fire, when--
"Come," said the Faa king, "the night is cold, pinching cold, Mr
Smith; and, while the fire warms without, is there naething in the
cellar that will warm within? See to it, Andrew, man--thou art no
churl, or thy face is fause."
"Really, sir," replied Andrew--and, in spite of all his efforts to
appear at ease, his tongue faltered as he spoke--"I'm not altogether
certain what to say upon that subject; for ye observe that our laird
is really a very singular man; ye might as weel put your head in the
fire there as displease him in the smallest; and though Heaven kens
that I would gie to you just as freely as I would tak to mysel, yet
ye'll observe that the liquor in the cellars is not mine, but
his--and they are never sae weel plenished but I believe he would
miss a thimblefu'. But there is some excellent cold beef in the
pantry, if ye could put up wi' the like o' it, and the home-brewed
which we servants use."
"Andrew," returned the Faa king, proudly--"castle have I none, flocks
and herds have I none, neither have I haughs where the wheat, and the
oats, and the barley grow--but, like Ishmael, my great forefather,
every man's hand is against me, and mine against them--yet, when I am
hungry, I never lack the flesh-pots o' my native land, where the
moorfowl and the venison make brown broo together. Cauld meat agrees
nae wi' my stomach, and servants' drink was never brewed for the lord
o' Little Egypt. Ye comprehend me, Andrew?"
"Oh, I daresay I do, sir," said the chief domestic of the house of
Clennel; "but only, as I have said, ye will recollect that the drink
is not mine to give; and if I venture upon a jug, I hope ye winna
think o' asking for another."
"We shall try it," said the royal vagrant.
Andrew, with trembling and reluctance, proceeded to the cellar, and
returned with a large earthen vessel filled with the choicest
home-brewed, which he placed upon a table in the midst of them.
"Then each took a smack
Of the old black jack,
While the fire burned in the hall."
The Faa king pronounced the liquor to be palatable, and drank to his
better acquaintance with the cellars of the laird of Clennel; and his
gang followed his example.
Now, I should remark that Willie Faa, the chief of his tribe, was a
man of gigantic stature; the colour of his skin was the dingy brown
peculiar to his race; his arms were of remarkable length, and his
limbs a union of strength and lightness; his raven hair was mingled
with grey; while, in his dark eyes, the impetuosity of youth and the
cunning of age seemed blended together. It is in vain to speak of
his dress, for it was changed daily as his circumstances or
avocations directed. He was ever ready to assume all characters,
from the courtier down to the mendicant. Like his wife, he was
skilled in the reading of no book but the book of fate. Now, Elspeth
was a less agreeable personage to look upon than even her husband.
The hue of her skin was as dark as his. She was also of his age--a
woman of full fifty. She was the tallest female in his tribe; but
her stoutness took away from her stature. Her eyes were small and
piercing, her nose aquiline, and her upper lip was "bearded like the
pard."
While her husband sat at his carousals, and handing the beverage to
his followers and the domestics of the house, Elspeth sat examining
the lines upon the palms of the hands of the maid-servants--pursuing
her calling as a spaewife. And ever as she traced the lines of
matrimony, the sybil would pause and exclaim--
"Ha!--money!--money!--cross my loof again, hinny. There is fortune
before ye! Let me see! A spur!--a sword!--a shield!--a gowden
purse! Heaven bless ye! They are there!--there, as plain as a
pikestaff; they are a' in your path. But cross my loof again, hinny,
for until siller again cross it, I canna see whether they are to be
yours or no."
Thus did Elspeth go on until her "loof had been crossed" by the last
coin amongst the domestics of the house of Clennel; and when these
were exhausted, their trinkets were demanded and given to assist the
spell of the prophetess. Good fortune was prognosticated to the most
of them, and especially to those who crossed the loof of the reader
of futurity most freely; but to others, perils, and sudden deaths,
and disappointments in love, and grief in wedlock, were hinted,
though to all and each of these forebodings, a something like
hope--an undefined way of escape--was pended.
Now, as the voice of Elspeth rose in solemn tones, and as the mystery
of her manner increased, not only were the maid-servants stricken
with awe and reverence for the wondrous woman, but the men-servants
also began to inquire into their fate. And as they extended their
hands, and Elspeth traced the lines of the past upon them, ever and
anon she spoke strange words, which intimated secret facts; and she
spoke also of love-makings and likings; and ever, as she spoke, she
would raise her head and grin a ghastly smile, now at the individual
whose hand she was examining, and again at a maid-servant whose
fortune she had read; while the former would smile and the latter
blush, and their fellow domestics exclaim--
"That's wonderfu'!--that dings a'!--ye are queer folk! hoo in the
world do ye ken?"
Even the curiosity of Mr Andrew Smith was raised, and his wonder
excited; and, after he had quaffed his third cup with the gipsy king,
he, too, reverentially approached the bearded princess, extending his
hand, and begging to know what futurity had in store for him.
She raised it before her eyes, she rubbed hers over it.
"It is a dark and a difficult hand," muttered she: "here are ships
and the sea, and crossing the sea, the great danger, and a way to
avoid it--but the gowd!--the gowd that's there! And yet ye may lose
it a'! Cross my loof, sir--yours is an ill hand to spae--for it's
set wi' fortune, and danger, and adventure."
Andrew gave her all the money in his possession. Now, it was
understood that she was to return the money and the trinkets with
which her loof had been crossed; and Andrew's curiosity overcoming
his fears, he ventured to intrust his property in her keeping; for,
as he thought, it was not every day that people could have everything
that was to happen unto them revealed. But when she had again looked
upon his hand--
"It winna do," said she--"I canna see ower the danger ye hae to
encounter, the seas ye hae to cross, and the mountains o' gowd that
lie before ye yet--ye maun cross my loof again." And when, with a
woful countenance, he stated that he had crossed it with his last
coin--
"Ye hae a chronometer, man," said she--"it tells you the minutes now,
it may enable me to show ye those that are to come!"
Andrew hesitated, and, with doubt and unwillingness, placed the
chronometer in her hand.
Elspeth wore a short cloak of faded crimson; and in a sort of pouch
in it, every coin, trinket, and other article of value which was put
into her hands were deposited, in order, as she stated, to forward
her mystic operations. Now, the chronometer had just disappeared in
the general receptacle of offerings to the oracle, when heavy
footsteps were heard descending the staircase leading to the hall.
Poor Andrew, the ruler of the household, gasped--the blood forsook
his cheeks, his knees involuntarily knocked one against another, and
he stammered out--
"For Heaven's sake, gie me my chronometer!--Oh, gie me it!--we are a'
ruined!"
"It canna be returned till the spell's completed," rejoined Elspeth,
in a solemn and determined tone--and her countenance betrayed nothing
of her dupe's uneasiness; while her husband deliberately placed his
right hand upon a sort of dagger which he wore beneath a large coarse
jacket that was loosely flung over his shoulders. The males in his
retinue, who were eight in number, followed his example.
In another moment, the laird, with wrath upon his countenance, burst
into the hall.
"Andrew Smith," cried he, sternly, and stamping his foot fiercely on
the floor, "what scene is this I see? Answer me, ye robber, answer
me;--ye shall hang for it!"
"O sir! sir!" groaned Andrew, "mercy!--mercy!--O sir!" and he wrung
his hands together and shook exceedingly.
"Ye fause knave!" continued the laird, grasping him by the neck--and
dashing him from him, Andrew fell flat upon the floor, and his terror
had almost shook him from his feet before--"Speak, ye fause knave!"
resumed the laird; "what means your carousin' w' sic a gang? Ye
robber, speak!" And he kicked him with his foot as he lay upon the
ground.
"O sir!--mercy, sir!" vociferated Andrew, in the stupor and wildness
of terror; "I canna speak!--ye hae killed me outright! I am
dead--stone dead! But it wasna my blame--they'll a' say that, if
they speak the truth."
"Out! out, ye thieves!--ye gang o' plunderers, born to the
gallows!--out o' my house!" added the laird, addressing Willie Faa
and his followers.
"Thieves! ye acred loon!" exclaimed the Faa king, starting to his
feet, and drawing himself up to his full height--"wha does the worm
that burrows in the lands o' Clennel ca' thieves? Thieves, say
ye!--speak such words to your equals, but no to me. Your forebears
came ower wi' the Norman, invaded the nation, and seized upon
land--mine invaded it also, and only laid a tax upon the flocks, the
cattle, and the poultry--and wha ca' ye thieves?--or wi' what grace
do ye speak the word?"
"Away, ye audacious vagrant!" continued the laird; "ken ye not that
the king's authority is in my hands?--and for your former
plunderings, if I again find you setting foot upon ground o' mine, on
the nearest tree ye shall find a gibbet."
"Boast awa--boast awa, man," said Willie; "ye are safe here for me,
and mine winna harm ye; and it is a fougie cock indeed that darena
craw in its ain barn-yard. But wait until the day when we may meet
upon the wide moor, wi' only twa bits o' steel between us, and see
wha shall brag then."
"Away!--instantly away!" exclaimed Clennel, drawing his sword, and
waving it threateningly over the head of the gipsy.
"Proud, cauld-hearted, and unfeeling mortal," said Elspeth, "will ye
turn fellow-beings from beneath your roof in a night like this, when
the fox darena creep frae its hole, and the raven trembles on the
tree?"
"Out! out! ye witch!" rejoined the laird.
"Farewell, Clennel," said the Faa king; "we will leave your roof, and
seek the shelter o' the hill-side. But ye shall rue! As I speak,
man, ye shall rue it!"
"Rue it!" screamed Elspeth, rising--and her small dark eyes flashed
with indignation--"he shall rue it--the bairn unborn shall rue
it--and the bann o' Elspeth Faa shall be on Clennel and his kin,
until his hearth be desolate and his spirit howl within him like the
tempest which this night rages in the heavens!"
The servants shrank together into a corner of the hall to avoid the
rage of their master; and they shook the more at the threatening
words of the weird woman, lest she should involve them in his doom;
but he laughed with scorn at her words.
"Proud, pitiless fool," resumed Elspeth, more bitterly than before,
"repress your scorn. Whom, think ye, ye treat wi' contempt? Ken ye
not that the humble adder which ye tread upon can destroy ye--that
the very wasp can sting ye, and there is poison in its sting? Ye
laugh, but for your want of humanity this night, sorrow shall turn
your head grey, lang before age sit down upon your brow."
"Off! off! ye wretches!" added the laird; "vent your threats on the
wind, if it will hear ye, for I regard them as little as it will.
But keep out o' my way for the future, as ye would escape the honours
o' a hempen cravat, and the hereditary exaltation o' your race."
Willie Faa made a sign to his followers, and without speaking they
instantly rose and departed; but, as he himself reached the door, he
turned round, and significantly striking the hilt of his dagger,
exclaimed--
"Clennel! ye shall rue it!"
And the hoarse voice of Elspeth without, as the sound was borne away
on the storm, was heard crying--"He shall rue it!" and repeating her
imprecations.
Until now, poor Andrew Smith had lain groaning upon the floor more
dead than alive, though not exactly "stone dead" as he expressed it;
and ever, as he heard his master's angry voice, he groaned the more,
until in his agony he doubted his existence. When, therefore, on the
departure of the Faas, the laird dragged him to his feet, and feeling
some pity for his terror, spoke to him more mildly, Andrew gazed
vacantly around him, his teeth chattering together, and he first
placed his hands upon his sides, to feel whether he was still indeed
the identical flesh, blood, and bones of Andrew Smith, or his
disembodied spirit; and being assured that he was still a man, he put
down his hand to feel for his chronometer, and again he groaned
bitterly--and although he now knew he was not dead, he almost wished
he were so. The other servants thought also of their money and their
trinkets, which, as well as poor Andrew's chronometer, Elspeth, in
the hurry in which she was rudely driven from the house, had, by a
slip of memory, neglected to return to their lawful owners.
It is unnecessary to dwell upon the laird's anger at his domestics,
or farther to describe Andrew's agitation; but I may say that the
laird was not wroth against the Faa gang without reason. They had
committed ravages on his flocks--they had carried off the choicest of
his oxen--they destroyed his deer--they plundered him of his
poultry--and they even made free with the grain that he reared, and
which he could spare least of all. But Willie Faa considered every
landed proprietor as his enemy, and thought it his duty to quarter on
them. Moreover, it was his boisterous laugh, as he pushed round the
tankard, which aroused the laird from his slumbers, and broke
Elspeth's spell. And the destruction of the charm, by the appearance
of their master, before she had washed her hands in Darden Lough,
caused those who had parted with their money and trinkets to grieve
for them the more, and to doubt the promises of the prophetess, or to
"Take all for gospel that the spaefolk say."
Many weeks, however, had not passed until the laird of Clennel found
that Elspeth the gipsy's threat, that he should "_rue it_," meant
more than idle words. His cattle sickened and died in their stalls,
or the choicest of them disappeared; his favourite horses were found
maimed in the mornings, wounded and bleeding in the fields; and,
notwithstanding the vigilance of his shepherds, the depredations on
his flocks augmented tenfold. He doubted not but that Willie Faa and
his tribe were the authors of all the evils which were besetting him:
but he knew also their power and their matchless craft, which
rendered it almost impossible either to detect or punish them. He
had a favourite steed, which had borne him in boyhood, and in battle
when he served in foreign wars, and one morning when he went into his
park, he found it lying bleeding upon the ground. Grief and
indignation strove together in arousing revenge within his bosom. He
ordered his sluthhound to be brought, and his dependants to be
summoned together, and to bring arms with them. He had previously
observed foot-prints on the ground, and he exclaimed--
"Now the fiend take the Faas, they shall find whose turn it is to rue
before the sun gae down."
The gong was pealed on the turrets of Clennel Hall, and the kempers
with their poles bounded in every direction, with the fleetness of
mountain stags, to summon all capable of bearing arms to the presence
of the laird. The mandate was readily obeyed; and within two hours
thirty armed men appeared in the park. The sluthhound was led to the
foot-print; and after following it for many a weary mile over moss,
moor, and mountain, it stood and howled, and lashed its lips with its
tongue, and again ran as though its prey were at hand, as it
approached what might be called a gap in the wilderness between
Keyheugh and Clovencrag.
Now, in the space between these desolate crags stood some score of
peels, or rather half hovels, half encampments--and this primitive
city in the wilderness was the capital of the Faa king's people.
"Now for vengeance!" exclaimed Clennel; and his desire of revenge was
excited the more from perceiving several of the choicest of his
cattle, which had disappeared, grazing before the doors or holes of
the gipsy village.
"Bring whins and heather," he continued--"pile them around it, and
burn the den of thieves to the ground."
His order was speedily obeyed, and when he commanded the trumpet to
be sounded, that the inmates might defend themselves if they dared,
only two or three men and women of extreme age, and some half-dozen
children, crawled upon their hands and knees from the huts--for it
was impossible to stand upright in them.
The aged men and women howled when they beheld the work of
destruction that was in preparation, and the children screamed when
they heard them howl. But the laird of Clennel had been injured, and
he turned a deaf ear to their misery. A light was struck, and a
dozen torches applied at once. The whins crackled, the heather
blazed, and the flames overtopped the hovels which they surrounded,
and which within an hour became a heap of smouldering ashes.
Clennel and his dependants returned home, driving the cattle which
had been stolen from him before them, and rejoicing in what they had
done. On the following day, Willie Faa and a part of his tribe
returned to the place of rendezvous--their city and home in the
mountains--and they found it a heap of smoking ruins, and the old men
and the old women of the tribe--their fathers and their
mothers--sitting wailing upon the ruins, and warming over them their
shivering limbs, while the children wept around them for food.
"Whose work is this?" inquired Willie, while anxiety and anger
flashed in his eyes.
"The Laird o' Clennel!--the Laird o' Clennel!" answered every voice
at the same instant.
"By this I swear!" exclaimed the king of the Faas, drawing his dagger
from beneath his coat, "from this night henceforth he is laird nor
man nae langer." And he turned hastily from the ruins, as if to put
his threat in execution.
"Stay, ye madcap!" cried Elspeth following him, "would ye fling away
revenge for half a minute's satisfaction?"
"No, wife," cried he, "nae mair than I would sacrifice living a free
and a fu' life for half an hour's hangin'."
"Stop, then," returned she, "and let our vengeance fa' upon him, so
that it may wring his life away, drap by drap, until his heart be
dry; and grief, shame, and sorrow burn him up, as he has here burned
house and home o' Elspeth Faa and her kindred."
"What mean ye, woman?" said Willie, hastily; "if I thought ye would
come between me and my revenge, I would drive this bit steel through
you wi' as goodwill as I shall drive it through him."
"And ye shall be welcome," said Elspeth. She drew him aside, and
whispered a few minutes in his ear. He listened attentively. At
times he seemed to start, and at length, sheathing his dagger and
grasping her hand, he exclaimed--"Excellent, Elspeth!--ye have
it!--ye have it!"
At this period the laird of Clennel was about thirty years of age,
and two years before he had been married to Eleanor de Vere, a lady
alike distinguished for her beauty and accomplishments. They had an
infant son, who was the delight of his mother, and his father's
pride. Now, for two years after the conflagration of their little
town, Clennel heard nothing of his old enemies the Faas, neither did
they molest him, nor had they been seen in the neighbourhood, and he
rejoiced in having cleared his estate of such dangerous visitors.
But the Faa king, listening to the advice of his wife, only "nursed
his wrath to keep it warm," and retired from the neighbourhood, that
he might accomplish, in its proper season, his design of vengeance
more effectually, and with greater cruelty.
The infant heir of the house of Clennel had been named Henry, and he
was about completing his third year--an age at which children are,
perhaps, most interesting, and when their fondling and their
prattling sink deepest into a parent's heart--for all is then beheld
on childhood's sunny side, and all is innocence and love. Now, it
was in a lovely day in April, when every bird had begun its annual
song, and flowers were bursting into beauty, buds into leaves, and
the earth resuming its green mantle, when Lady Clennel and her infant
son, who then, as I have said, was about three years of age, went
forth to enjoy the loveliness and the luxuries of nature, in the
woods which surrounded their mansion, and Andrew Smith accompanied
them as their guide and protector. They had proceeded somewhat more
than a mile from the house, and the child, at intervals breaking away
from them, sometimes ran before his mother, and at others sauntered
behind her, pulling the wild flowers that strewed their path, when a
man, springing from a dark thicket, seized the child in his arms, and
again darted into the wood. Lady Clennel screamed aloud, and rushed
after him. Andrew, who was coming dreaming behind, got but a glance
of the ruffian stranger--but that glance was enough to reveal to him
the tall, terrible figure of Willie Faa, the gipsy king.
There are moments when, and circumstances under which even cowards
become courageous, and this was one of those moments and
circumstances which suddenly inspired Andrew (who was naturally no
hero) with courage. He, indeed, loved the child as though he had
been his own; and following the example of Lady Clennel, he drew his
sword and rushed into the wood. He possessed considerable speed of
foot, and he soon passed the wretched mother, and came in sight of
the pursued. The unhappy lady, who ran panting and screaming as she
rushed along, unable to keep pace with them, lost all trace of where
the robber of her child had fled, and her cries of agony and
bereavement rang through the woods.
Andrew, however, though he did not gain ground upon the gipsy, still
kept within sight of him, and shouted to him as he ran, saying that
all the dependants of Clennel would soon be on horseback at his
heels, and trusting that every moment he would drop the child upon
the ground. Still Faa flew forward, bearing the boy in his arm, and
disregarding the cries and threats of his pursuer. He knew that
Andrew's was not what could be called a heart of steel, but he was
aware that he had a powerful arm, and could use a sword as well as a
better man; and he knew also that cowards will fight as desperately,
when their life is at stake, as the brave.
The desperate chase continued for four hours, and till after the sun
had set, and the gloaming was falling thick on the hills. Andrew,
being younger and unencumbered, had at length gained ground upon the
gipsy, and was within ten yards of him when he reached the Coquet
side, about a mile below this town, at the hideous Thrumb, where the
deep river, for many yards, rushes through a mere chasm in the rock.
The Faa, with the child beneath his arm, leaped across the fearful
gulf, and the dark flood gushed between him and his pursuer. He
turned round, and, with a horrid laugh, looked towards Andrew and
unsheathed his dagger. But even at this moment the unwonted courage
of the chief servant of Clennel did not fail him, and as he rushed up
and down upon one side of the gulf, that he might spring across and
avoid the dagger of the gipsy, the other ran in like manner on the
other side; and when Andrew stood as if ready to leap, the Faa king,
pointing with his dagger to the dark flood that rolled between them,
cried--
"See, fool! eternity divides us!"
"And for that bairn's sake, ye wretch, I'll brave it!" exclaimed
Andrew, while his teeth gnashed together; and he stepped back, in
order that he might spring across with the greater force and safety.
"Hold, man!" cried the Faa; "attempt to cross to me, and I will
plunge this bonny heir o' Clennel into the flood below."
"Oh, gracious! gracious!" cried Andrew, and his resolution and
courage forsook him; "ye monster!--ye barbarian!--oh, what shall I do
now!"
"Go back whence you came," said the gipsy, "or follow me another step
and the child dies."
"Oh, ye butcher!--ye murderer!" continued the other--and he tore his
hair in agony--"hae ye nae mercy?"
"Sic mercy as your maister had," returned the Faa, "when he burned
our dwellings about the ears o' the aged and infirm, and o' my
helpless bairns! Ye shall find in me the mercy o' the fasting wolf,
o' the tiger when it laps blood!"
Andrew perceived that to rescue the child was now impossible, and
with a heavy heart he returned to his master's house, in which there
was no sound save that of lamentation.
For many weeks, yea months, the Laird of Clennel, his friends, and
his servants, sought anxiously throughout every part of the country
to obtain tidings of his child, but their search was vain. It was
long ere his lady was expected to recover the shock, and the
affliction sat heavy on his soul, while in his misery he vowed
revenge upon all of the gipsy race. But neither Willie Faa nor any
of his tribe were again seen upon his estates, or heard of in their
neighbourhood.
Four years were passed from the time that their son was stolen from
them, and an infant daughter smiled upon the knee of Lady Clennel;
and oft as it smiled in her face, and stretched its little hands
towards her, she would burst into tears, as the smile and the
infantine fondness of her little daughter reminded her of her lost
Henry.--They had had other children, but they had died while but a
few weeks old.
For two years there had been a maiden in the household named Susan,
and to her care, when the child was not in her own arms, Lady Clennel
intrusted her infant daughter; for every one loved Susan, because of
her affectionate nature and docile manners--she was, moreover, an
orphan, and they pitied while they loved her. But one evening, when
Lady Clennel desired that her daughter might be brought her in order
that she might present her to a company who had come to visit them
(an excusable, though not always a pleasant vanity in mothers),
neither Susan nor the child were to be found. Wild fears seized the
bosom of the already bereaved mother, and her husband felt his heart
throb within him. They sought the woods, the hills, the cottages
around; they wandered by the sides of the rivers and the mountain
burns, but no one had seen, no trace could be discovered of either
the girl or the child.
I will not, because I cannot, describe the overwhelming misery of the
afflicted parents. Lady Clennel spent her days in tears and her
nights in dreams of her children, and her husband sank into a settled
melancholy, while his hatred of the Faa race became more implacable,
and he burst into frequent exclamations of vengeance against them.
More than fifteen years had passed, and though the poignancy of their
grief had abated, yet their sadness was not removed, for they had
been able to hear nothing that could throw light upon the fate of
their children. About this period, sheep were again missed from the
flocks, and, in one night, the hen-roosts were emptied. There needed
no other proof that a Faa gang was again in the neighbourhood. Now,
Northumberland at that period was still thickly covered with wood,
and abounded with places where thieves might conceal themselves in
security. Partly from a desire of vengeance, and partly from the
hope of being able to extort from some of the tribe information
respecting his children, Clennel armed his servants, and taking his
hounds with him, set out in quest of the plunderers.
For two days their search was unsuccessful, but on the third the dogs
raised their savage cry, and rushed into a thicket in a deep glen
amongst the mountains. Clennel and his followers hurried forward,
and in a few minutes perceived the fires of the Faa encampment. The
hounds had already alarmed the vagrant colony, they had sprung upon
many of them and torn their flesh with their tusks; but the Faas
defended themselves against them with their poniards, and, before
Clennel's approach, more than half his hounds lay dead upon the
ground, and his enemies fled. Yet there was one poor girl amongst
them, who had been attacked by a fierce hound, and whom no one
attempted to rescue, as she strove to defend herself against it with
her bare hands. Her screams for assistance rose louder and more
loud; and as Clennel and his followers drew near, and her companions
fled, they turned round, and, with a fiendish laugh, cried--
"Rue it now!"
Maddened more keenly by the words, he was following on in pursuit,
without rescuing the screaming girl from the teeth of the hound, or
seeming to perceive her, when a woman, suddenly turning round from
amongst the flying gipsies, exclaimed--
"For your sake!--for Heaven's sake! Laird Clennel! save my bairn."
He turned hastily aside, and, seizing the hound by the throat, tore
it from the lacerated girl, who sank, bleeding, terrified, and
exhausted, upon the ground. Her features were beautiful, and her
yellow hair contrasted ill with the tawny hue of her countenance and
the snowy whiteness of her bosom, which in the struggle had been
revealed. The elder gipsy woman approached. She knelt by the side
of the wounded girl.
"O my bairn!" she exclaimed, "what has this day brought upon
me!--they have murdered you! This is rueing, indeed; and I rue too!"
"Susan!" exclaimed Clennel, as he listened to her words, and his eyes
had been for several seconds fixed upon her countenance.
"Yes!--Susan!--guilty Susan!" cried the gipsy.
"Wretch!" he exclaimed, "my child!--where is my child?--is this"--and
he gazed on the poor girl, his voice failed him, and he burst into
tears.
"Yes!--yes!" replied she bitterly. "it is her--there lies your
daughter--look upon her face."
He needed, indeed, but to look upon her countenance--disfigured as it
was, and dyed with weeds to give it a sallow hue--to behold in it
every lineament of her mother's, lovely as when they first met his
eye and entered his heart. He flung himself on the ground by her
side, he raised her head, he kissed her cheek, he exclaimed, "my
child!--my child!--my lost one! I have destroyed thee!"
He bound up her lacerated arms, and applied a flask of wine, which he
carried with him, to her lips, and he supported her on his knee, and
again kissing her cheek, sobbed, "my child!--my own!"
Andrew Smith also bent over her and said, "Oh, it is her! there isna
the smallest doubt o' that. I could swear to her among a thousand.
She's her mother's very picture." And, turning to Susan, he added,
"O Susan, woman, but ye hae been a terrible hypocrite!"
Clennel having placed his daughter on horseback before him,
supporting her with his arm, Susan was set between two of his
followers, and conducted to the hall.
Before the tidings were made known to Lady Clennel, the wounds of her
daughter were carefully dressed, the dye that changed the colour of
her countenance was removed, and her gipsy garb was exchanged for
more seemly apparel.
Clennel anxiously entered the apartment of his lady, to reveal to her
the tale of joy; but when he entered, he wist not how to introduce
it. He knew that excess of sudden joy was not less dangerous than
excess of grief, and his countenance was troubled, though its
expression was less sad than it had been for many years.
"Eleanor," he at length began, "cheer up."
"Why, I am not sadder than usual, dear," replied she, in her wonted
gentle manner; "and to be more cheerful would ill become one who has
endured my sorrows."
"True, true," said he, "but our affliction may not be so severe as we
have thought--there may be hope--there may be joy for us yet."
"What mean ye, husband?" inquired she, eagerly; "have ye heard
aught--aught of my children?--you have!--you have!--your countenance
speaks it."
"Yes, dear Eleanor," returned he, "I have heard of our daughter."
"And she lives?--she lives?--tell me that she lives!"
"Yes, she lives."
"And I shall see her--I shall embrace my child again?"
"Yes, love, yes," replied he, and burst into tears.
"When--oh, when?" she exclaimed, "can you take me to her now?"
"Be calm, my sweet one. You shall see our child--our long-lost
child. You shall see her now--she is here."
"Here!--my child!" she exclaimed, and sank back upon her seat.
Words would fail to paint the tender interview--the mother's joy--the
daughter's wonder--the long, the passionate embrace--the tears of
all--the looks--the words--the moments of unutterable feeling.
I shall next notice the confession of Susan. Clennel promised her
forgiveness if she would confess the whole truth; and he doubted not,
that from her he would also obtain tidings of his son, and learn
where he might find him, if he yet lived. I shall give her story in
her own words.
"When I came amongst you," she began, "I said that I was an orphan,
and I told ye truly, so far as I knew myself. I have been reared
amongst the people ye call gipsies from infancy. They fed me before
I could provide for myself. I have wandered with them through many
lands. They taught me many things; and, while young, sent me as a
servant into families, that I might gather information to assist them
in upholding their mysteries of fortune-telling, I dared not to
disobey them--they kept me as their slave--and I knew that they would
destroy my life for an act of disobedience. I was in London when ye
cruelly burned down the bit town between the Keyhaugh and Clovencrag.
That night would have been your last, but Elspeth Faa vowed more
cruel vengeance than death on you and yours. After our king had
carried away your son, I was ordered from London to assist in the
plot o' revenge. I at length succeeded in getting into your family,
and the rest ye know. When ye were a' busy wi' your company, I
slipped into the woods wi' the bairn in my arms, where others were
ready to meet us; and long before ye missed us, we were miles across
the hills, and frae that day to this your daughter has passed as
mine."
"But tell me all, woman," cried Clennel, "as you hope for either
pardon or protection--where is my son, my little Harry? Does he
live?--where shall I find him?"
"As I live," replied Susan, "I cannot tell. There are but two know
concerning him--and that is the king and his wife Elspeth; and there
is but one way of discovering anything respecting him, which is by
crossing Elspeth's loof, that she may betray her husband; and she
would do it for revenge's sake, for an ill husband has he been to
her, and in her old days he has discarded her for another."
"And where may she be found?" inquired Clennel, earnestly.
"That," added Susan, "is a question I cannot answer. She was with
the people in the glen to-day, and was first to raise the laugh when
your dog fastened its teeth in the flesh of your ain bairn. But she
may be far to seek and ill to find now--for she is wi' those that
travel fast and far, and that will not see her hindmost."
Deep was the disappointment of the laird when he found he could
obtain no tidings of his son. But, at the intercession of his
daughter (whose untutored mind her fond mother had begun to
instruct), Susan was freely pardoned, promised protection from her
tribe, and again admitted as one of the household.
I might describe the anxious care of the fond mother, as, day by day,
she sat by her new-found and lovely daughter's side, teaching her,
and telling her of a hundred things of which she had never heard
before, while her father sat gazing and listening near them,
rejoicing over both.
But the ray of sunshine which had penetrated the house of Clennel was
not destined to be of long duration. At that period a fearful cloud
overhung the whole land, and the fury of civil war seemed about to
burst forth.
The threatening storm did explode; a bigoted king overstepped his
prerogative, set at nought the rights and the liberties of the
subject, and an indignant people stained their hands with blood. A
political convulsion shook the empire to its centre. Families and
individuals became involved in the general catastrophe; and the house
of Clennel did not escape. In common with the majority of the
English gentry of that period, Clennel was a stanch loyalist, and if
not exactly a lover of the king, or an ardent admirer of his acts,
yet one who would fight for the crown though it should (as it was
expressed about the time) "hang by a bush." When, therefore, the
parliament declared war against the king, and the name of Cromwell
spread awe throughout the country, and when some said that a prophet
and deliverer had risen amongst them, and others an ambitious
hypocrite and a tyrant, Clennel armed a body of his dependants, and
hastened to the assistance of his sovereign, leaving his wife and his
newly-found daughter with the promise of a speedy return.