Tale by Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd--Aikwood
Castle--Black Pages in Livery--The Witch Henbane--Imps
demanding Work--Michael Scott--Curious Sport--Dreadful
Threat--Rats transformed into the form of
Men--Inventor of Gunpowder--Witches'
Operations--Summoning Evil Spirits to torture a
Man--Latin the Language best understood by Satan and
his Emissaries--Holy Signs and Charms--Two
Captives--Effects of a Friar's Blessing--Magic
Lantern--Man blown into the Air--Michael Scott's
Sealed and Subscribed Conditions--Imps' Song--Spirits
in the forms of Crows--Dreadful Storm--Warlocks'
Hymn--Eildon Hill.
Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, whose memory will long be remembered in
Scotland, particularly in the Border counties, introduces, in his
_Three Perils of Man_, a party of travellers approaching Aikwood
Castle, about nine miles from Melrose. The edifice scarcely seemed to
be the abode of man. "Is that now to be my residence, Yardbire?" said
the beautiful Delany. "Will you go away, and leave Elias and me in
that frightsome and desolate-looking mansion?" "Thou art in good
hands," said the friar. "But thou art perhaps going into a place of
danger, and evil things may await thee. Here, take thou this, and keep
it in thy bosom; and, by the blessing of the Holy Virgin, it will
shield thee from all malevolent spirits, all enchantments, and all
dangers of the wicked one." As he said this, he put into her hand a
small gilded copy of the four Evangelists, which she kissed and put
into her bosom. All the rest of the company saw the small volume, and
took it for a book of the black art. Close to the castle gate there
appeared three pages in black livery, although a moment before there
was no living creature there. They seemed to have risen out of the
ground. All at once the horses and mules on which the travellers rode
became restive; at this, the elves set up a shout, and skipped about
with the swiftness of lightning. Hearing the noise, the great master
asked his only attendant, Gourlay, "What is the meaning of the
uproar?" "It is only Prim, Prig, and Pricker making sport," replied
the servant.
As soon as the mighty master knew of the friar and his companions
being in the castle, he ordered them to be treated as spies. The old
witch Henbane, who acted as housekeeper, and the three pages, were
called into the presence of the wizard, to receive instructions from
him. First the imps threatened Gourlay, and then rushed on Michael
himself, as if they would tear him to pieces, and cried out with one
voice:
"Work, master, work; work we need;
Work for the living, or for the dead:
Since we are called, work we will have,
For the master, or for the slave.
Work, master, work. What work now?"
Michael Scott (no doubt the reader has by this time discovered that he
was the master of the castle), to keep the restless beings at work,
told them to give Gourlay three varieties of punishment, but no more.
They soon began their wicked pranks, first changing the seneschal from
one grotesque form to another. Quickly transforming him into a dog,
they chased him up and down and round about with a pan at its tail.
Next they made him assume the shape of a hare, while to all appearance
they became collie dogs. An exciting chase followed over hill and
dale, but the poor hare succeeded in eluding its pursuers, and
returned to the master, who, by one touch of his divining rod, changed
Gourlay into his own natural shape. As soon as the poor ill-used
servant recovered speech, he threatened to cut his throat, that he
might be freed from his severe bondage. Michael dared him to do such a
thing, as he had him wholly in his power, dead or alive. "Were you to
take away your life by a ghastly wound," said the wizard, "I would
even make one of these fiendish spirits enter into your body,
reanimate it, and cause you to go about with your gaping wound,
unclosed and unpurified, as when death entered thereat." "Cursed be
the day that I saw you, and ten times cursed the confession I made,
that has thus subjected me to your tyranny!" exclaimed Gourlay.
Michael again asked what living creatures were in the castle. The
servant replied, "I again repeat it, that there is no mortal thing in
the castle but the old witch, and perhaps two or three hundred rats."
"Call out those rats," said Michael; "marshal them up in the court,
and receive the visitors according to their demerits." At the same
time the master gave the servant a small piece of parchment, with red
characters traced on it, and told him to put it above the lock-hole of
the door. "It shall serve as a summons, and Prig, Prim, and Pricker
shall marshal your forces," continued the wizard. The citation was
effective: the running and screaming of rats were heard in every
corner of the castle, and forthwith a whole column of armed men
marched into the court, led by the three pages, and headed by the
seneschal in grey mantle and cap. In walked the strangers, and passed
between two ranks of men, or rather rats, the appearance of which
raised a suspicion that they were spirits or elves.
The friar, it should be noticed, was the great philosopher and chemist
who invented gunpowder, and made many other wonderful discoveries, for
which he was in danger of being burnt as a wizard and necromancer.
The friar, followed by his companions, found entrance to a room, where
they expected to meet the great enchanter Michael, but instead of him
they beheld an old woman, so busily engaged with something on the
fire, that she scarcely deigned to notice their entrance. She had a
wooden tube, with which she blew up the fire, and then spoke through
it, saying:
"Sotter, sotter, my wee pan,
To the spirit gin ye can;
When the scum turns blue,
And the blood bells through,
There's something aneath that will change the man."
The crone continued her orgies, one time blowing her fire, again
stirring the liquid in the caldron, and then making it run from the
end of a stick that she might note its gelidity. All her operations
were being gone through to call up certain familiar spirits whose
presence she desired.
In another apartment sat Michael Scott. He wore a turban of crimson
velvet, ornamented with mystic figures in gold, and on the front of it
was a dazzling star. His eyes were bright and piercing, resembling
those of a serpent. He was stout-made, and had a strong bushy beard,
turning grey. On beholding Charlie Scott (he alone entered the
wizard's _sanctum sanctorum_), the wizard stamped three times on the
floor, and in a moment Prim, Prig, and Pricker stood beside him.
"Work, master, work--what work now?" demanded they. "Take that burly
housebreaker, bind him, and put him to the test," were the
instructions they received. When the elves were about to seize
Charlie, he drew his sword, and thrust out right and left, but his
blade did nothing more than whistle through vacancy. In an instant he
was thrown down and bound with cords. The master and his familiars
then had a conversation in Latin (the language best understood by
Satan and his emissaries) concerning the prisoner's baptism. They
stripped him, and were about to begin a painful operation, when
Charlie, bound though he was, succeeded in crossing himself and
pronouncing a sacred name. That instant the pages started back
trembling, and their weapons fell from their hands. Another of the
company was thrown down and bound by the imps; but when they attempted
to seize the friar, they could not so much as touch his frock. The
fair Delany stood trembling behind the pious father; and on the fiends
feeling their want of power over him, they rushed at the young virgin.
But the moment they touched her garments, they retired in dismay. The
friar, remembering that the maid had the blessed Gospel concealed in
her bosom, concluded that in that precious book she found protection.
As to his own personal safety he had no fear, as he possessed a charm,
proof against Satan himself. "He drew his cross from below his
frock--that cross which had been consecrated at the shrine of Saint
Peter, bathed in holy water, and blessed with many blessings from the
mouths of ancient martyrs--had done wondrous miracles in the hands of
saints of former days--and lifting that reverently on high, he
pronounced the words from holy writ, against which no demon or false
spirit's power could prevail. In one moment the three imps fled
yelling from the apartment." At the same time the countenance of the
enchanter fell, and his whole body quaked. The friar then unloosed
those that were bound.
"Great and magnificent Master of Arts," said the friar, addressing
Michael Scott, "we are come to thee from the man that ruleth over the
borders of the land, and leadeth forth his troops to battle. He
sendeth unto thee greeting, and beseecheth to know of thee what shall
befall unto his people and to his house in the latter days. It is thy
counsel alone that he asketh, for thou art renowned for wisdom and
foresight to the farthest corners of the earth. The two nations are
engaged in a great and bloody contest, and high are the stakes for
which they play. The man who sent us entreateth of thee to disclose
unto thy servants who shall finally prevail, and whether it behoveth
him to join himself to the captain of his people. He hath moreover
sent unto thee, by our hand, these two beautiful captives, the one to
be thine handmaiden, and the other to be thy servant, and run at thy
bidding."
The wizard, highly flattered, listened with patience to the friar, and
answered that the request made would take many days to consider, as he
had to deal with those who were more capricious than the changing
seasons, and more perverse than opposing winds and tides. Reluctantly
the friar and his friends were prevailed on to remain at the goblin
castle, and how it fared with them we shall soon see.
Gourlay was summoned into the presence of Scott, who instructed him to
provide an entertainment for the strangers. In due time the steward
appeared with his rod of office in his hand, and with great ceremony
marshalled his guests upstairs to an apartment, where there was a
table covered with rich viands in great abundance. A few graceless
fellows in the company began to eat and drink before a blessing was
asked, and seemingly fared well. But with the holy friar it was
different. In conformity with a good old custom, he lifted up his
hands, closed his eyes, and, leaning forward, repeated his oft-said
stereotyped phrases. In his respectful attitude, he came in close
contact with what appeared to be a beautiful smoking sirloin of beef.
So near was he to it that he actually breathed upon it, and was nearly
overcome by its savoury flavour. Never had blessing a more baneful
effect on meat: when the friar opened his eyes the beef was
gone--there was nothing left but an insignificant thing resembling the
joint of a frog's leg, or that of a rat.
A contention arose between Michael Scott and the friar as to which of
them could perform the most wonderful feats; and when the former
discovered that he was in conversation with no less a personage than
the Primate of Douay, author of the book of arts, he was much pleased.
By means of a curious lantern, he made it appear that the mountain
Cape-Law was rent and divided into three parts. This was only an
optical delusion, but he in reality blew poor Gourlay into the air by
an explosion of gunpowder, the composition and power of which were
unknown to the wizard, or to any one except the friar. The master
could not bear the idea of being outdone by any one. He strode the
floor in gloomy indignation. "Look," he shouted, "at that mountain on
the east. It is known to you all--the great hill of Eildon. You know
and see that it is one round, smooth, and unbroken cone." He then gave
three knocks with his heel on the floor, and called the names of his
three pages, Prig, Prim, and Pricker. As at other times, these
infernal spirits were before him, exclaiming, "Work, master, work;
what work now?" "Look at that mountain yclept the hill of Eildon. Go
and twist me it into three." The imps looked with Satanic glare. "The
hill is granite," said one. "And five arrows' flight high," said
another. "And seventy round the base," said the first. "All the power
of earth and hell to boot are unmeet to the task," added the third. In
an imperious manner, the master declared the thing must be done. "I
know my conditions; they are sealed and subscribed, and I am not to be
disobeyed," continued he. The three pages began singing:
"Pick and spade
To our aid!
Flaught and flail,
Fire and hail:
Winds arise, and tempests brattle,
And, if you will, the thunders rattle.
Come away,
Elfin grey,
Much to do ere break of day!
Come with spade, and sieve, and shovel;
Come with roar, and rout, and revel;
Come with crow, and come with crane,
Strength of steed, and weight of wain.
Crash of rock, and roar of river,
And, if you will, with thunders shiver!
Come away,
Elfin grey;
Much to do ere break of day."
As they sang the last line, they sped away, in the forms of three
crows, toward Eildon Hill.
That night was a dreadful one. A storm burst forth in all its fury,
sweeping over hill and dale. The woods roared and crashed before the
blast, and a driving rain dashed with such violence on the earth, that
it seemed as if a thousand cataracts poured from the western heaven to
mix with the tempest below. Now and again eldritch shrieks, as of some
one perishing, were heard, and then the voices of angry spirits,
yelling through the tempest, reached the ear. One of the inmates of
the castle was reminded, by the raging storm, of the warlocks' hymn:
"Pother, pother,
My master and brother,
Who may endure thee,
Thus failing in fury?
King of the tempest that travels the plain
King of the snow, and the hail, and the rain,
Lend to thy lever yet seven times seven,
Blow up the blue flame for bolt and for levin,
The red forge of hell with the bellows of heaven!
With hoop and with hammer!
With yell and with yammer,
Hold them in play
Till the dawn of day!
Pother, pother!
My sovereign and brother.
O strain to thy lever,
This world to sever
In two or in three--
What joy it would be!
What toiling and mailing, and mighty commotions!
What rending of hills, and what roaring of oceans!
Ay, that is thy voice, I know it full well;
And that is thy whistle's majestic swell;
But why wilt thou ride thy furious race
Along the bounds of vacant space,
While there is tongue of flesh to scream,
And life to start, and blood to stream?
Yet pother, pother!
My sovereign and brother
And men shall see, ere the rising sun,
What deeds thy mighty arm hath done."
Michael Scott and his guests kept watch together during the eventful
night; and when the friar and Charlie stepped out to the battlements
in the morning, they beheld the great mountain of Eildon, which before
then had but one cone, piled up in three hills, as described by us in
chapter XVI.