Border Raids and Reivers Part 13

Thus everything ended happily, and young Harden had cause to bless the day he found himself at the mercy of Sir Gideon Murray of Elibank. Seldom, indeed, has Border reiver been so beneficently punished!

An' muckle guid bluid frae that union has flowed, An' mony a brave fellow, an' mony a brave feat; I darena just say they are a' muckle mou'd, But they rather have still a guid luck for their meat.

Such is the tradition, as Hogg has given it in his humourous poem. It goes without saying that the poet has embellished and enlarged the story to suit his own purposes. But the tradition has generally been regarded as having some considerable basis of fact. Satch.e.l.ls, in his History of the Scotts, thus refers to Auld Wat of Harden and his famous son--

"The stout and valiant Walter Scott Of Harden who can never die, But live by fame to the tenth degree; He became both able, strong, and stout, Married Philip's daughter, squire of Dryhope, Which was an ancient family, And many broad lands enjoyed he; Betwixt these Scotts was procreat, That much renowned Sir William Scott, I need not to explain his name, Because he ever lives by fame; He was a man of port and rank, He married Sir Gideon Murray's daughter of Elibank."

The fortunes of other famous reivers have formed the theme of many a stirring ballad. The so-called historical data on which many of these ballads are professedly based, may often, no doubt, be truthfully described as more imaginary than real, nevertheless the picture which the balladist has drawn is often deeply interesting, and subserves an important end by indicating the feeling with which these men and their deeds were usually regarded.

In a history of Border reiving such side-lights as the ballads afford may be profitably utilized.

Maitland, in his celebrated poem on the Thieves of Liddesdale, makes allusion to a well known character who is known to fame as "Jock o' the Syde." He was nephew to the "Laird of Mangerton," and cousin to the "Laird's Ain Jock," and had all the enthusiasm of his race for the calling to which the members of his clan seem to have devoted their somewhat remarkable talents.--

He never tyris For to brek byris Our muir and myris Ouir gude ane guide.

It is said that he a.s.sisted the Earl of Westmoreland in his escape, after his unfortunate insurrection with the Earl of Northumberland, in the twelfth year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But according to the balladist his career, on one occasion, had well nigh terminated disastrously. In the company of some of his friends he had made a raid into Northumberland. Here he was taken prisoner by the warden, and thrown into jail at Newcastle, there to "bide his doom." He knew that he would not have long to wait. Not much time was wasted in considering the various items of the indictment, more especially when the accused was a well-known thief. "Jeddart justice" was not confined to the small burgh on the Scottish Border. It was as popular, at that time, in England as anywhere else, as many a Scottish reiver has known to his cost. The friends of the prisoner were fully aware that if he was to be saved from the gallows, not one moment must be lost. A rescue party was speedily organized. The laird of Mangerton, accompanied by a few friends--the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat, and the famous Hobbie n.o.ble (an Englishman who had been banished from Bewcastle)--started off for Newcastle with all speed, determined to bring the prisoner back with them, quick or dead. To allay suspicion and avoid detection, they shod their horses "the wrang way"--putting the tip of the shoe behind the frog--and arrayed themselves like country lads, or "corn caugers[104] ga'en the road." When they reached Cholerford, near Hexham, they alighted and cut a tree--"wi' the help o' the light o' the moon"--on which were fifteen nogs or notches, by which they hoped "to scale the wa'

o' Newcastle toun." But, as so often happened in like circ.u.mstances, this improvised ladder was "three ells too laigh." Such trifles, however, rarely ever proved disconcerting. The bold reivers at once determined to force the gate. A stout porter endeavoured to drive them back, but--

"His neck in twa the Armstrongs wrang; Wi' fute or hand he ne'er played pa!

His life and his keys at once they hae ta'en, And cast his body ahint the wa'."

The path being now clear they speedily made their way to the prison, where they found their friend groaning under fifteen stones of Spanish iron (nothing short of this would have availed to keep a stark Scottish reiver, fed on oatmeal, within the confines of a prison cell), carried him off, irons and all, set him on a horse, with both feet on one side, and rode off with the fleetness of the wind in the direction of Liddesdale:

"The night tho' wat, they didna mind, But hied them on fu' merrilie, Until they cam' to Cholerford brae, Where the water ran like mountains hie."

Dashing into the stream they soon reached the opposite bank. The English, who were in hot pursuit, when they reached the Tyne, which was rolling along in glorious flood, durst not venture further. They were filled with chagrin when they saw the prisoner, loaded as he was with fifteen stones of good Spanish iron, safe on the other side. They had sustained a double loss. The prisoner was gone, and he had taken his valuable iron chains with him. The land-sergeant, or warden's officer, taking in the situation at a glance, cried aloud--

"The prisoner take, But leave the fetters, I pray, to me."

To which polite request the Laird's ain Jock replied--

"I wat weel no, I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be, My gude bay mare--for I am sure, She bought them a' right dear frae thee."

No Liddesdale reiver was ever likely to part with anything in a hurry, least of all to give it up to an Englishman.

The Armstrongs, almost without exception, were noted thieves. They seem to have possessed a rare genius for reiving. Their plans were generally so well formed, and carried out with such a fine combination of daring and cunning, that the "enemy" almost invariably came off "second best." One of the last, and most noted of this reiving clan, was _William Armstrong_, a lineal descendant of the famous Johnie of Gilnockie, who was known on the Borders by the name of _Christie's Will_, to distinguish him from the other members of his family and clan. He flourished during the reign of Charles I., a circ.u.mstance which shows that moss-trooping did not altogether cease at the union of the Crowns. It is related that, on one occasion, Christie's Will had got into trouble, and was imprisoned in the Tolbooth of Jedburgh. The Lord High Treasurer, the Earl of Traquair, who was visiting in the district, was led to enquire as to the cause of his confinement. The prisoner told him, with a pitiful expression of countenance, that he had got into grief for stealing two _tethers_ (halters). The eminent statesman was astonished to hear that such a trivial offence had been so severely punished, and pressed him to say if this was the only crime he had committed. He ultimately reluctantly acknowledged that there were two _delicate colts_ at the end of them! This bit of pleasantry pleased his lordship, and through his intercession the culprit was released from his imprisonment.

It was a fortunate thing for Lord Traquair that he acted as he did. A short time afterwards he was glad to avail himself of the services of the man whom he had thus been the means of setting at liberty. The story is one of the most romantic on record, and amply justifies the adage that "truth is stranger than fiction." A case, in which the Earl was deeply interested, was pending in the Court of Session. It was believed that the judgment would turn on the decision of the presiding judge, who has a casting vote in the case of an equal division among his brethren. It was known that the opinion of the president was unfavourable to Traquair; and the point was, therefore, to keep him out of the way when the question should be tried. In this dilemma the Earl had recourse to Christie's Will, who at once offered his services to _kidnap_ the president. He discovered that it was the judge's usual practice to take the air on horseback, on the sands of Leith, without an attendant. One day he accosted the president, and engaged him in conversation. His talk was so interesting and amusing that he succeeded in decoying him into an unfrequented and furzy common, called the Frigate Whins, where, riding suddenly up to him, he pulled him from his horse, m.u.f.fled him in a large cloak which he had provided, and rode off with the luckless judge trussed up behind him.

Hurrying across country as fast as his horse could carry him, by paths known only to persons of his description, he at last deposited his heavy and terrified burden in an old castle in Annandale, called the Tower of Graham. The judge's horse being found, it was concluded he had thrown his rider into the sea; his friends went into mourning, and a successor was appointed to his office. Meanwhile the disconsolate president had a sad time of it in the vault of the castle. His food was handed to him through an aperture in the wall, and never hearing the sound of human voice, save when a shepherd called his dog, by the name of _Batty_, and when a female domestic called upon _Maudge_, the cat. These, he concluded, were invocations of spirits, for he held himself to be in the dungeon of a sorcerer. The law suit having been decided in favour of Lord Traquair, Christie's Will was directed to set the president at liberty, three months having elapsed since he was so mysteriously spirited away from the sands at Leith. Without speaking a single word, Will entered the vault in the dead of night, again m.u.f.fled up in the president's cloak, set him on a horse, and rode off with him to the place where he had found him. The joy of his friends, and the less agreeable surprise of his successor, may be more easily imagined than described, when the judge appeared in court to reclaim his office and honours. All embraced his own persuasion that he had been spirited away by witchcraft; nor could he himself be convinced to the contrary, until, many years afterwards, happening to travel in Annandale, his ears were saluted once more with the sounds of _Maudge_ and _Batty_--the only notes which had reached him during his long confinement.

This led to the discovery of the whole story, but in those disorderly times it was only laughed at as a fair _ruse de guerre_.[105]

The victim of this extraordinary stratagem was Sir Alexander Gibson, better known as Lord Durie. He became a Lord of Session in 1621, and died in 1646, so that the incident here related must have taken place betwixt these periods.

The version of this incident, given in the well, known ballad "Christie's Will," if not so romantic as the foregoing, is certainly more amusing. The balladist represents Lord Traquair as "sitting mournfullie," afraid lest the vote of the Court of Session would make him bare at once of land and living--

"But if auld Durie to heaven were flown, Or if auld Durie to h.e.l.l were gane, Or ... if he could be but ten days stoun ...

My bonnie braid lands would still be my ain.

At this juncture Christie's Will offers his services--

"O, mony a time, my Lord," he said, "I've stown the horse frae the sleeping loun; But for you I'll steal a beast as braid, For I'll steal Lord Durie frae Edinburgh toun."

"O, mony a time, my Lord," he said, "I've stown a kiss frae a sleeping wench; But for you I'll do as kittle a deed, For I'll steal an auld lurdane off the bench."

He lighted at Lord Durie's door, And there he knocked maist manfullie; And up and spake Lord Durie sae stour, "What tidings, thou stalwart groom, to me?"

"The fairest lady in Teviotdale, Has sent, maist reverent sir, for thee.

She pleas at the Session for her land a' hail, And fain she would plead her cause to thee."

"But how can I to that lady ride With saving of my dignitie?"

"O a curch and mantle ye may wear, And in my cloak ye sall m.u.f.fled be."

Wi' curch on head, and cloak ower face, He mounted the judge on a palfrey fyne; He rode away, a right round pace, And Christie's Will held the bridle reyne.

The Lothian Edge they were not o'er, When they heard bugles bauldly ring, And, hunting over Middleton Moor, They met, I ween, our n.o.ble king.

When Willie looked upon our king, I wot a frightened man was he!

But ever auld Durie was startled more, For tyning of his dignitie.

The king he crossed himself, I wis, When as the pair came riding bye-- "An uglier croon, and a st.u.r.dier loon, I think, were never seen with eye."

Willie has hied to the tower of Graeme, He took auld Durie on his back, He shot him down to the dungeon deep, Which garr'd his auld banes gae mony a crack.

The king has caused a bill be wrote, And he has set it on the Tron-- "He that will bring Lord Durie back Shall have five hundred merks and one."

Traquair has written a braid letter, And he has seal'd it wi' his seal, "Ye may let the auld Brock out o' the poke; The land's my ain, and a's gane weel."

O Will has mounted his bony black, And to the tower of Graeme did trudge, And once again, on his st.u.r.dy back, Has he hente up the weary judge.

He brought him to the Council stairs, And there full loudly shouted he, "Gie me my guerdon, my sovereign liege, And take ye back your auld Durie!"

Important as this service was, it was not the only one that Christie's Willie rendered to the Earl of Traquair. He was sent, on one occasion, with important papers to Charles I., and received an answer to deliver, which he was strictly charged to place in the hands of his patron. "But in the meantime," says Sir Walter Scott, "his emba.s.sy had taken air, and Cromwell had despatched orders to entrap him at Carlisle. Christie's Will, unconscious of his danger, halted in the town to refresh his horse, and then pursued his journey. But as soon as he began to pa.s.s the long, high, and narrow bridge that crosses the Eden at Carlisle, either end of the pa.s.s was occupied by parliamentary soldiers, who were lying in wait for him. The Borderer disdained to resign his enterprise, even in these desperate circ.u.mstances; and at once forming his resolution, spurred his horse over the parapet. The river was in high flood. Will sunk--the soldiers shouted--he emerged again, and, guiding his horse to a steep bank, called the Stanners, or Stanhouse, endeavoured to land, but ineffectually, owing to his heavy horseman's cloak, now drenched in water.

Will cut the loop, and the horse, feeling himself disembarra.s.sed, made a desperate exertion, and succeeded in gaining the bank. Our hero set off, at full speed, pursued by the troopers, who had for a time stood motionless in astonishment, at his temerity. Will, however, was well mounted; and, having got the start, he kept it, menacing with his pistols, any pursuer who seemed likely to gain on him--an artifice which succeeded, although the arms were wet and useless. He was chased to the river Esk, which he swam without hesitation, and, finding himself on Scottish ground, and in the neighbourhood of friends, he turned on the northern bank, and with the true spirit of the Borderer, invited his followers to come through and drink with him. After this taunt he proceeded on his journey, and faithfully accomplished his mission."[106]

If Christie's Will may be regarded as the last Border freebooter of any note, it is evident that the peculiar genius of the family to which he belonged survived in full vigour to the end.

But the last of the Armstrongs who paid the penalty of death for his misdeeds was _Willie of Westburnflat_. It is said that a gentleman of property, having lost twelve cows in one night, raised the country of Teviotdale, and traced the robbers into Liddesdale, as far as the house of Westburnflat. Fortunately, perhaps, for his pursuers, Willie was asleep when they came, and consequently without much difficulty they secured him, and nine of his friends. They were tried in Selkirk, and though the jury did not discover any direct evidence against them to convict them of the special fact, they did not hesitate to bring in a verdict of guilty, on the ground of their general character as "notour thieves and limmers."

When sentence was p.r.o.nounced, Willie sprang to his feet, and laying hold of the oaken chair on which he had been sitting, broke it in pieces, and called on his companions who were involved in the same doom, to stand behind him and he would fight his way out of Selkirk with these weapons.

But, strange to relate, they held his hands, and besought him to let them _die like Christians_. They were accordingly executed in due form of law.