actions, and subjected his wishes to the control of virtue: he wished to
raise her to an exalted situation, not to triumph over her innocence--in
short, he wished to make her his royal bride; but this seemed
impossible, and he returned dejected to his Castle of Crail. He
regretted that high rank should now stand in the way of his happiness,
and almost wished he had not been born a king. He consulted the Lord of
Douglas, his prime minister, urged the beauty, the virtue, the genius of
Matilda, but all in vain; the reply was, that policy and prudence
required him to seek a union with some exalted character--an alliance
with the daughter of a powerful and wealthy prince; and that, were he to
place a shepherdess on the throne, his nobles would be disgusted, and
quit his court, and in all probability proceed by open violence to
resent the supposed insult to their dignity. The king admitted that what
was said was too likely to be the fact, and at the same time reprobated
that pride which deemed an alliance with obscure and untitled virtue
disgraceful; but he knew the prejudices of his nobility were
unconquerable, and he submitted with great reluctance to his fate. His
friends--and amongst others the Lairds of Cambo, Anstruther, Grangemuir,
and Balcombie, the Provost of Crail, and Prior of St Rufus, the remains
of whose chapel may still be seen a little eastward of Crail, near Roome
Bay, and whose well (called the Prior's Well) is yet resorted to
occasionally by the good people of the Nethergate--those friends, we
say, tried in vain to divert the king's thoughts, and alleviate his
distress. They informed him of the great antiquity of the burgh--that it
was a place of note in the ninth century. They conveyed him on horseback
to the Dane's Dyke, the remains of a bulwark of stones thrown up by our
Danish invaders in one night, where human bones, in great quantities,
are yet cast up by the plough on the farm of Kilmining; and they then
passed on to the Cave of Balcombie Sands, where they told him one of his
majesty's predecessors, Constantine, the Scottish king, was beheaded by
the Danes, in the year 871, he having been taken prisoner in a skirmish,
while the enemy were retreating. The party then visited the Castle of
Balcombie, a lofty and extensive pile of building, of immense strength
and remote antiquity, where, in after years, Mary of Guise was
hospitably entertained, on landing, after a tempestuous passage, at
Fifeness-haven, in order to be married to King James V. From hence King
David proceeded to Airdrie, or Ard-rhi--a name which in the Celtic
language denotes "the king's height"--then a favourite royal
hunting-station on the borders of Kingsmuir; and, returning to Crail,
the Runic Cross was not forgotten.[9]
[Footnote 9: This is a singular monument, and of great antiquity. At the
repair of the church of Crail, it was laid down in place of a piece of
Arbroath pavement, to form one of the passages, and is thereby already
somewhat mutilated, and had it been allowed to continue much longer in
that situation, it must have been entirely obliterated; but it is
gratifying to state that, while these lines are going to press, a
gentleman from the Cape of Good Hope, on a visit to Crail, his native
parish, has had the good taste to get the stone removed, and placed in
the wall of the church, where it will be now preserved from further
dilapidation.]
It were endless to tell of all the devices resorted to by his friends to
alleviate the king's melancholy. The greatest beauties of the castle
courted his smiles without effect. Their charms seemed but to remind him
of the superior fascinations of his beloved Matilda. Nothing seemed to
remain to him but the trying task of parting, perhaps for ever, from his
captivating shepherdess.
The king often thought of asking Matilda for the story of her life, but
dreaded that the narrative would but confirm his misery. Upon one of his
visits, he missed her at the accustomed spot, but found a venerable old
man attending the sheep in her place. The king anxiously inquired for
Matilda, and was informed that she was visiting a family in the
neighbourhood.
The family which she had gone to visit lived in an unpretending mansion
beautifully situated on a ridge of rising ground, which stretches from
east to west, nearly through the middle of what is now the Parish of
Carnbee. This ridge rises in different places into hills of a beautiful
conical form, and are green and verdant to the summit; these are
Carnbee-law, Kellie-law. Gillingshill, and Cunner-law. It was to
Gillingshill Matilda had directed her steps, and, occupying as it did an
elevated position, the house commanded an extensive and splendid
view.[10]
[Footnote 10: Among the objects which the eye now takes in by a short
sweep are the noble mansion of Kellie Castle, belonging to the Right
Honourable the Earl of Mar and Kellie; Grangemuir, the residence of the
Right Honourable Lord William Douglas; Balcaskie, the seat of Sir Ralph
Abercrombie Anstruther, Baronet; together with Elie House and village,
with its commodious harbour; Kilconquhar House, with its beautiful loch;
Balcarras, with its picturesque craig, its ivy-mantled chapel, and its
many military, historical, and literary associations; Pitcorthie, with
its magnificent mansion; Gibleston, with its fine woods and gardens, and
many villas of lesser note.]
The maiden had acquainted her father that she often had a visiter when
keeping her flocks in the muir, and, from her description of him, the
old man conceived the individual present to be that person, and
accordingly invited him to their habitation, which invitation David,
throwing aside for awhile his usual courtly ceremony, accepted.
He went on with sorrowing steps, and yet would not have staid behind.
The small and unpretending cottage before him damped him at first, but
when he thought upon it as the home of his fair enchantress, his spirits
were again cheered. He found in the place neatness and rural elegance.
He would have been happy to have changed his sceptre for a shepherd's
crook, and his noble Castle of Crail for this humble dwelling. He was
invited to refresh himself, and Matilda soon joined them; but, although
the table was spread with healthful rustic dainties, he could not do
justice to the feast. Matilda's charming company and conversation was
his regalement. The old man apologised for the homeliness of his fare,
supposing _that_ to be the cause of his guest's abstinence, and said,
"That once he could have entertained him better, but now he had little
more to offer than a hearty welcome."
A knock was heard at the door, and a young farmer having entered who
wished to buy some sheep, the old man retired with him with the view of
making a bargain.
The young couple being left alone, David moved his chair nearer to that
of Matilda, and began to renew his attentions to her; but, however much
she was pleased with the courtly air and intellectual conversation of
her visiter, she was resolved to act with prudence and circumspection.
She therefore took this opportunity of stating to him, in a polite and
kindly manner, that, as he had said his visits were paid for the purpose
of making _her_ acquaintance, and that while she thanked him for the
favourable opinion he had often expressed with regard to her, yet, as he
was a stranger, and had never been regularly introduced, she should be
obliged to decline his future visits. She further stated, that he must
be well aware there can be no safe principle except this, that every man
aiming at our acquaintance must be introduced to us by some person we
already know, who becomes a guarantee, as it were, for the propriety of
his behaviour and the honour of his views; that without this we can
never be sure that the individual addressing us is not a designing
adventurer, who would think nothing of making our happiness his sport;
and that for a young female to admit the addresses of an unknown young
man, however fascinating his manners or noble his air, would be to run a
great risk of disappointment and unhappiness for life.
The old man now came into the room, and the subject of conversation
being changed, King David shortly afterwards took leave of his
entertainers, bowing respectfully as he retired.
Matilda's father had been her tutor, and he was well qualified for that
office. To aid the development of her infant mind--to pour forth to her,
as she grew in years and in reason, all the fruits of his own
richly-cultivated intellect, was the solitary consolation of one over
whose head was impending the misfortune of incompetence, or deficiency
of means for the adequate support of himself and his daughter. Matilda
was gifted with a mind which, even if her tutor had not been her father,
would have rendered tuition a delight. Her lively imagination, which
early unfolded itself; her dangerous but interesting vivacity; the keen
delight, the swift enthusiasm with which she drank in knowledge, and
then panted for more; her shrewd acuteness, and her innate passion for
what was excellent and beautiful, filled her father with rapture, which
he repressed, and made him feel conscious how much there was to check,
to guide, and to form, as well as to cherish, to admire, and to applaud.
As she grew up, the bright parts of her character shone with increased
lustre; but, in spite of the exertions of her instructor, some less
admirable qualities had not yet disappeared. She was still too often the
dupe of her imagination; and though perfectly inexperienced, her
confidence in her theoretical knowledge of human nature was unbounded.
She had an idea that she could penetrate the character of individuals at
first meeting; and the consequence of this fatal axiom was, that she was
always the slave of first impressions, and constantly the victim of
prejudice; she was ever thinking individuals better or worse than they
really were, and she believed it to be out of the power of any one to
deceive her. Constant attendance during many years on a dying beloved
mother, and her deep religious feelings, had first broken, and then
controlled, a spirit which nature had intended to be arrogant and
haughty. Her father she adored; and she seemed to devote to him all that
consideration which, with more common characters, is generally
distributed among their acquaintances.
We hint at her faults. How shall we describe her virtues? Her unbounded
generosity, her dignified simplicity, her graceful frankness, her
nobility of thought and feeling, her firmness, her courage, and her
truth, her kindness to her inferiors, her constant charity, her devotion
to her parents, her sympathy with sorrow, her detestation of oppression,
her pure unsullied thoughts, her delicate taste, her deep religion--all
these combined would have formed a delightful character, even if
unaccompanied with such brilliant talents and such brilliant beauty as
she possessed. Nature and art were the graces which had combined to form
this girl. She was a jewel set in gold, and worthy of a king.
After the remarks made by Matilda on his last visit, the king resolved
to make known to the old man and his daughter his rank and station with
as little delay as possible; but, being wishful at the same time to
ascertain previously what were the feelings of Matilda towards him as a
private individual, irrespective of his kingly crown and dignity, he
thought it best to postpone the communication until he should have
learned the history of the old shepherd and his family. For this purpose
he repaired on an early day to Kingsmuir, and bearing in mind the few
words which formerly fell from the old man in reference to his having
seen better days--words which had greatly raised the hopes of the king,
and fixed his attention on the story of their fortunes--he entreated the
sage to relate the same, which he agreed to do, and began as
follows:--"I was formerly Earl of Northumberland, and husband of
Juditha, grand-daughter of William the Conqueror. Our family were nearly
connected with royalty, and my possessions in lands, flocks, and herds,
exceedingly extensive and valuable. I lived in becoming splendour. I was
beloved by my neighbours, and happy in my family. My estates are
situated not far from the borders of Scotland, and were frequently
invaded by the Scottish chiefs. For a long time my tenants and servants
bravely repelled these attacks, but at length increasing in their
numbers, we were overpowered. They spoiled and ravaged all our lands,
and drove away our flocks and herds, save a small portion, with which I
removed to the East of Fife, to find security and protection. Here have
I since lived--suppressed my style and title, and passed myself off as a
poor old shepherd, with this my humble but virtuous and affectionate
daughter, the comfort and support of my declining years."
The king struggled to conceal the thrilling emotions which he felt at
this narration, and asked the old man whether he had applied at court
for succour in his distress. His question was answered thus:--"No; my
family, consisting of but myself and young Matilda, and my desires being
confined to narrow bounds, by the dictates of religion and philosophy, I
thought it unjust to ask of this country that support which health and
honest industry could procure, and thereby deprive more useful subjects
of their just reward." The king admired the generous spirit of the
venerable sage; told him he had interest at court; assured him that the
king would be glad to see him, and insisted that he and his daughter
should hasten thither; which journey, after considerable hesitation,
they resolved to undertake.
It is impossible to describe the transports of the young king on this
occasion. He came back to the castle, to inform his courtiers that two
interesting strangers were shortly to visit them, and he made all due
preparations for his expected and welcome guests. The scene was now
changed from deep despondency to the most complete joy and felicity.
At the appointed time the old shepherd and his lovely daughter arrived
at the good old town and Castle of Crail; and having recovered from
their surprise, the king introduced them to the court in their rural
habits, without disclosing their rank. As companions of the king, the
courtiers were obliged to receive them with civility, but their affected
politeness could ill conceal their absolute contempt. The court broke
up, and the king again engaged in conversation with the Earl of
Northumberland. He requested to know where his daughter derived so much
knowledge? To which the earl replied, "From my own poor stock. She was
my sole companion. I thought it my interest as well as my duty to teach
her every science I knew. She had an apt and comprehensive intellect,
and easily received instruction."
In a few days the king again assembled all his courtiers. He had
previously advised with the prime minister and privy councillors on the
propriety of a marriage with an earl's daughter of royal lineage, and
obtained their unqualified consent and approval. He then introduced the
old man as the Earl of Northumberland, and the beautiful shepherdess as
his daughter Matilda. Shame seized the ungenerous nobility for their
former conduct, but the offended parties soon removed their
embarrassment; and a noble suite of apartments were soon set aside for
the earl and Matilda in the house of the governor of the castle.[11]
[Footnote 11: The Castle of Crail was an important station in early
times. The fortress was entered by a massive gate in the Shoregate, the
site of which is now occupied by a house some time belonging to the late
Mr William Cowan. Within the rampart which defended the entrance were
placed the guard-house and apartments for officers. For centuries the
castle consisted of little more than these houses and a single tower,
surrounded by a barbican, and other defences; but after the end of the
eleventh century it became of more importance as a royal residence for
King David. In his reign the fortifications were considerably extended;
a governor's house was erected, with two circular towers, from which a
grand view was obtained to seaward, and of the surrounding country.
Within a second gate were two courts, containing the king's palace, the
parliament hall, the chapel, and other buildings. The roof of the king's
room in the palace was completely covered with rich carving in oak, long
regarded by the town's-people with veneration. There was also a house
for storing grain, and a well of excellent water within its walls. This
fortress was considered the key of the East of Fife, and, before the
invention of gunpowder, was deemed impregnable.]
In a fine summer afternoon David and his beloved Matilda were seated
alone in a room of the governor's house.
Now, as interviews between lovers are usually very delightful to our
fair young friends in general, we might for their benefit narrate at
great length all that was said and done by the parties above mentioned;
but, without disappointing them altogether, we shall be very brief on
the subject, and rather hasten to unfold more important parts of their
adventures.
"Sweet Matilda," began David, "my heart, that never knew another love,
is all your own. Since we first met on Kingsmuir, your image has not
quitted my mind for a second. Not for a moment have I ceased to think
you the best, the most beautiful, the most enchanting, the most
endearing creature that ever graced our country."
She turned; her eye glistened; her arm fell over his shoulder; she
buried her head in his breast. At this very moment the door opened, and
the earl her father entered; and David exclaimed, "Oh, my dear earl, I
am the happiest man that ever breathed."
"What is all this?" inquired the earl.
"Is it possible," said the king, "that you have not long before detected
the feelings I ventured to entertain for your daughter? In a word, she
requires only your sanction to my being the most fortunate of men."
"My gracious sovereign," cried the earl, "it is out of the power of man
to impart to me any event which could afford to me such exquisite
pleasure."
The earl then approached his daughter, and, bending down, pressed the
lips of his child. It was the seal to their plighted faith, and told
without speech that the blessing of a father mingled with the vows of a
lover. At this moment Matilda thought only of her father--that friend of
her life in prosperity and adversity, whose love had never been
wanting--was she now about to leave him? She rose; she threw her arms
about her father's neck, and wept.
The earl at this time considerately remembered that he wanted to see his
servant, and they were left alone. Their eyes meet; their soft looks
tell that they are thinking of each other. His arm steals round the back
of her chair, and with the other hand he gently lays hold on hers. But
why more? First love--first love, how many a glowing bard has sung thy
charms! Nature herself seemed to those loving hearts more beautiful than
ever. Their own thoughts reflected themselves in every object that met
their view, as they wandered amidst the shady woods or along the sunny
braes near the royal residence.
But although the young king was in love, duty was not to be neglected;
and the old earl entreated that the youthful pair should cease to wander
on the West Braes, and Roome Links, and woods, and muirs which at that
time surrounded the burgh. He urged the king to examine and make good
the walls of the town, and the gates at the East and West Ports, and
Jockey's Port, as well as those of the Nethergate and Shoregate; also
the castle walls, gates, and defences, and whole fortifications. The
armoury came likewise under observation, and an inspection took place of
the bowmen, while practising archery in the Bow Butts. These precautions
became necessary, as rumours began to be circulated that a war might
speedily be expected with the English.
The affairs of state having also received due attention, the court
resolved to visit the Isle of May.
The morning was remarkably fine, when the king, with the Earl of
Northumberland, Matilda, and a number of his court, embarked at Crail in
a pleasure-yacht for the May. The air was pure, the sea slightly ruffled
with a favouring breeze, and the sky almost cloudless; all nature looked
bright and beautiful, and the morning sun cast the shadows of the
vessel's masts across the water in the harbour.
The harbour of Crail presented a very animated scene. Everything was in
unison with the sunny day and the illustrious occasion. The piers were
lined with soldiers, and behind them were dense crowds of spectators.
The royal Scottish standard was flying from the castle, and from the
south pier-head. The harbour was crowded with boats and small craft, to
witness the departure. On the yacht leaving the harbour, the cheer was
taken up by the soldiers and the populace, while the band struck up the
national air.
The Island of May was reached in less than an hour. In sailing round the
western side, the most discordant sounds saluted the ear from
kittiewakes, seagulls, scouts, and other wild sea-fowl, which inhabit
the rock in myriads, and nestle in the bare crevices; and some of the
party, wishful to display their skill in archery, brought down a few of
the birds with their arrows, both sitting and on the wing. A landing was
safely made on the southern side, and the company separated into small
parties, to stroll over the island, and view its natural curiosities and
various remains of antiquity, particularly its priory and gifted holy
well.
After spending a delightful day, the court embarked with the afternoon's
tide for Crail, and, when at a distance from the island, they viewed
with interest the romantic Castle of Dreel, the stronghold of the
Anstruthers of Anstruther, to whom the king had lately granted a
charter, wherein the heir is designed "Filius Willielmi de Candela,
domini de Anstruther:" "son of William de Candela, Lord of Anstruther,"
a name obviously of Norman origin. This castle lies at the bottom of the
bay, between the Billowness and Craignoon Rock, with its rough, grey,
antique houses clustering round the mouth of the Dreel burn. Brightly on
sea and on shore shone the unclouded afternoon's sun on the white cliffs
of the isle, and the rugged shore of the East of Fife, with all its
caverns, rocks, and towers, its ancient burghs, with their pointed
spires, and long and straggling fishing villages, that dot the rocky
beach. The scene was lovely and beautiful. The Forth shone like a stream
of lucid gold; West Anstruther, with its old church of Norman
architecture; Royal Crail, with its lofty castle, its chapel, and
turreted battlements; Castle Cunningham, at the West Braes, and its
gloomy caverns not far distant--all these were visible at once, and
bathed in ruddy light.
King David having now declared his intention of espousing Matilda, the
marriage was soon after solemnised within the chapel of the castle, with
much splendour and dignity. The guests of the bridal were the nobility
and dignified clergy, and in their suite a numerous assembly of vassals.
A thousand knights, in their robes of silk, attended the bride on the
morn of her nuptials, and several days were spent in hunting, feasting,
dancing, and other circumstances of pomp and revelry.
A tournament, the frequent amusement of this warlike age, also took
place. This was a martial sport or exercise which the ancient cavaliers
used to perform to show their address and bravery. On this occasion,
Walter Bisset, a powerful baron, who piqued himself on his skill in his
weapons, was foiled by Patrick, Earl of Athole. An old feud which
existed between these families embittered the defeat, and Athole was
found murdered in his house, which, probably for the purpose of
concealment, was set on fire by the assassins. The suspicion of this
slaughter--which, even in an age familiar with ferocity, seems to have
excited unwonted horror--immediately fell upon the Bissets; and although
_Walter_ was the person concerned in the tournament, the popular clamour
pointed to _William_, the elder brother, and chief of the family. He was
pursued by the nobility, who were incited to vengeance by the Earl of
March and David de Hastings, and would have been torn to pieces, had not
the interference of the king protected him from the fury of the friends
of Athole. Ultimately the Bissets were condemned, their estates
forfeited to the crown, and they were ordered to repair to Palestine,
and there, for the remaining days of their lives, to pray for the soul
of the murdered earl.
When we muse on the chivalric and martial sports which distinguished
our ancient burgh in former days, and witness the silence and gloomy
depopulation which now reign in our streets; when we compare its lofty
and formidable castle with its present bare and defenceless walls; when
we think of the great maritime and commercial interest carried on,
before the Union, between its harbour and Holland, and other foreign
countries, and see its present limited coasting trade, we can scarcely
help regretting the loss of its ancient grandeur. One cannot help
_feeling_ that of this royal residence, where princes feasted and heroes
fought--now in the bloody earnest of storm and siege, and now in the
games of chivalry, where beauty dealt the prize which valour had
won--all is now desolate, all its glory is departed. The mossy ruins of
its castle walls only serve to show what their extent and splendour once
was, and to impress on the mind of the musing visiter the transitory
nature and value of all human possessions, and the true happiness of
_those_ who enjoy a humble lot in virtuous contentment.