The Mysteries of All Nations Part 15

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 sc.u.m 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 p.r.i.c.ker 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 p.r.o.nouncing 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 p.r.o.nounced 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 att.i.tude, 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 p.r.i.c.ker. 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 h.e.l.l 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 h.e.l.l 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 s.p.a.ce, 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.

CHAPTER XXII.

Allan Ramsay--"The Gentle Shepherd"--Bauldy the Clown--Mause the reputed Witch--A Witch's Crantraips--Praying Backwards--Sad Misfortunes attributed to Mause--Supposed Power of the Devil to raise the Wind and send Rain and Thunder--Mause's Reflections--Sir William disturbed--Symon's Announcement--Promise to gain a La.s.sie's Heart--Doings of the supposed Witch--Witches' Tricks--Longfellow's "Golden Legend"--"Song of Hiawatha."

Allan Ramsay, who wrote in the first half of the eighteenth century, does not appear to have believed in witches or evil spirits. He, however, like other poets, found it convenient to introduce superst.i.tion into his poetical effusions. This will be seen from the following extracts from his _Gentle Shepherd_.

BAULDY.

"What's this?--I canna bear't!--'tis worse than h.e.l.l, To be sae burnt with love, yet daurna tell!

O Peggy! sweeter than the dawning day; Sweeter than gowany glens or new-mawn hay; Blyther than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows; Straighter than aught that in the forest grows; Her een the clearest blob of dew outshines; The lily in her breast its beauty tines; Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een, Will be my dead, that will be shortly seen!

For Pate looes her--waes me!--and she looes Pate And I with Neps, by some unlucky fate, Made a daft vow. O, but ane be a beast, That makes rash aiths till he's afore the priest!

I darna speak my mind, else a' the three, But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy.

'Tis sair to thole;--I'll try some witchcraft art, To break with ane, and win the other's heart.

Here Mausy lives, a witch that for sma' price Can cast her cantraips, and gie me advice.

She can o'ercast the night, and cloud the moon, And make the deils obedient to her crune; At midnight hours, o'er the kirk-yard she raves, And howks unchristen'd weans out of their graves; Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow; Rins withershins about the hemlock low; And seven times does her prayers backwards pray, Till Plotc.o.c.k comes with lumps of Lapland clay, Mixt with the venom of black taids and snakes: Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes Of ony ane she hates,--and gars expire With slow and racking pains afore a fire, Stuck fu' of pins; the devilish pictures melt; The pain by fowk they represent is felt.

And yonder's Mause: Ay, ay, she kens fu' weel, When ane like me comes rinning to the deil!

She and her cat sit beeking in her yard: To speak my errand, faith, amaist I'm fear'd!

But I maun do't, tho' I should never thrive: They gallop fast that deils and la.s.ses drive.

How does auld honest lucky of the glen?

Ye look baith hale end fair at threescore-ten.

MAUSE.

E'en twining out a thread with little din, And beeking my cauld limbs afore the sun.

What brings my bairn this gate sae air at morn?

Is there nae muck to lead? to thresh nae corn?

BAULDY.

Enough of baith: but something that requires Your helping hand employs now all my cares.

MAUSE.

My helping hand! alake, what can I do, That underneith baith eild and poort.i.th bow?

BAULDY.

Ay, but you're wise, and wiser far than we; Or maist part of the parish tells a lie.

MAUSE.

Of what kind wisdom think ye I'm possest, That lifts my character aboon the rest?

BAULDY.

The word that gangs, how ye're sae wise and fell, Ye'll maybe tak it ill gif I should tell.

MAUSE.

What folk say of me, Bauldy, let me hear; Keep naething up, ye naething have to fear.

BAULDY.

Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a'