Sir Walter Scott and the Border Minstrelsy

 
At Otterburn begane this spurne,
Upon a Monnynday;
There was the doughte Douglas slean,
The Perse never went away.
 

This is a form of Herd’s stanza xiv. of the English Otterburn (lxviii.), made soon after the battle. We see that the original ballad has protean variants; in time all is mixed in tradition.

Now the curious and interesting point is that Hogg, when he collected the ballad from two reciters, himself noticed that the Cheviot ballad had merged, in some way, into the Otterburn ballad, and pointed this out to Scott. I now publish Hogg’s letter to Scott, in which, as usual, he does not give the year-date: I think it was 1805.

Ettrick House, Sept. 10, [?1805].

Dear Sir, – Though I have used all diligence in my power to recover the old song about which you seemed anxious, I am afraid it will arrive too late to be of any use. I cannot at this time have Grame and Bewick; the only person who hath it being absent at a harvest; and as for the scraps of Otterburn which you have got, they seem to have been some confused jumble made by some person who had learned both the songs you have, ⁴⁶ and in time had been straitened to make one out of them both. But you shall have it as I had it, saving that, as usual, I have sometimes helped the metre without altering one original word.

Hogg here gives his version from recitation as far as stanza xxiv.

Here Hogg stops and writes: —

The ballad, which I have collected from two different people, a crazy old man and a woman deranged in her mind, seems hitherto considerably entire; but now, when it becomes most interesting, they have both failed me, and I have been obliged to take much of it in plain prose. However, as none of them seemed to know anything of the history save what they had learned from the song, I took it the more kindly. Any few verses which follow are to me unintelligible.

He told Sir Hugh that he was dying, and ordered him to conceal his body, and neither let his own men nor Piercy’s know; which he did, and the battle went on headed by Sir Hugh Montgomery, and at length —

Here follow stanzas up to xxxviii.

Hogg then goes on thus: —

Piercy seems to have been fighting devilishly in the dark. Indeed my narrators added no more, but told me that Sir Hugh died on the field, but that

 
He left not an Englishman on the field,
 

 
That he hadna either killed or ta’en
Ere his heart’s blood was cauld.
 

Almonshire (Stanza iii.) may probably be a corruption of Bamburghshire, but as both my narrators called it so I thought proper to preserve it. The towers in Roxburgh fells (Stanza iii.) may not be so improper as we were thinking, there may have been some [English] strength on the very borders. – I remain, Dear Sir, your most faithful and affectionate servant, James Hogg.

Hogg adds a postscript:

Not being able to get the letter away to the post, I have taken the opportunity of again pumping my old friend’s memory, and have recovered some more lines and half lines of Otterburn, of which I am becoming somewhat enamoured. These I have been obliged to arrange somewhat myself, as you will see below, but so mixed are they with original lines and sentences that I think, if you pleased, they might pass without any acknowledgment. Sure no man will like an old song the worse of being somewhat harmonious. After stanza xxiv. you may read stanzas xxv. to xxxiv. Then after xxxviii. read xxxix.

Now we know all that can be known about the copy of the ballad which, in 1805, Scott received from Hogg. Up to stanza xxiv. it is as given by the two old reciters. The crazy man may be the daft man who recited to Hogg Burns’s Tam o’ Shanter, and inspired him with the ambition to be a poet. The deranged woman, like mad Madge Wildfire, was rich in ballad scraps. From stanza xxv. to xxxiv., Hogg confessedly “harmonises” what he got in plain prose intermixed with verse. Stanza xxxix. is apparently Hogg’s. The last broken stanza, as Hogg said, is a reminiscence of the Hunting of the Cheviot, in a Scots form, long lost.

Hogg was not a scientific collector: had he been, he would have taken down “the plain prose” and the broken lines and stanzas verbally. But Hogg has done his best.

We have next to ask, How did Scott treat the material thus placed before him? He dropped five stanzas sent by Hogg, mainly from the part made up from “plain prose”; he placed in a stanza and a line or two from Herd’s text; he remade a stanza and adopted a line from the English of 1550, and inserted an incident from Wyntoun’s Cronykil (about 1430). He did these things in the effort to construct what Lockhart calls “a standard text.”

1. In stanza i., for Hogg’s “Douglas went,” Scott put “bound him to ride.”

2. (H.) “With the Lindsays.”

(S.) “With them the Lindesays.”

3. (H.) “Almonshire.”

(S.) “Bamboroughshire.”

(H.) “Roxburgh.”

(S.) “Reidswire.”

6. (H.) “The border again.”

(S.) “The border fells.”

7. (H.) “Most furiously.”

(S.) “Right furiouslie.”

9. (H.) A modernised stanza.

(S.) Scott deletes it.

15. (H.) Scott rewrites the stanza thus,

(H.)

 
But I will stay at Otterburn,
   Where you shall welcome be;
And if ye come not at three days end,
   A coward I’ll call thee.
 

(S.)

 
“Thither will I come,” proud Percy said,
   “By the might of Our Ladye.”
“There will I bide thee,” said the Douglas,
   “My troth I’ll plight to thee.”
 

19. (H.) “I have seen a dreary dream.”

20. (S.) “I have dreamed a dreary dream.”

21. (H.)

 
Where he met with the stout Percy
   And a’ his goodly train.
 

21. (S.)

 
But he forgot the helmet good
 

That should have kept his brain.

(From Wyntoun.)

22. (H.) Line 2. “Right keen.”

(S.) Line 2. “Fu’ fain.”

Line 4.

 
The blood ran down like rain.
 

Line 4.

 
The blood ran them between.
 

23. (H.)

 
But Piercy wi’ his good broadsword
Was made o’ the metal free,
Has wounded Douglas on the brow
Till backward did he flee.
 

24. (S.)

 
But Piercy wi’ his broadsword good
That could so sharply wound,
Has wounded Douglas on the brow,
Till he fell to the ground.
 

25. (H.) Here Hogg has mixed prose and verse, and does his best. Scott deletes Hogg’s 25.

27. (H.) Douglas repeats the story of his dream. Scott deletes the stanza.

28. In Hogg’s second line,

 
Nae mair I’ll fighting see.
 

Scott gives, from Herd,

 
Take thou the vanguard of the three.
 

29. Hogg’s verse is

 
But tell na ane of my brave men
That I lie bleeding wan,
But let the name of Douglas still
Be shouted in the van.
 

This is precisely what Douglas does say, in Froissart, but Scott deletes the stanza. Probably Hogg got the fact from his reciters, “in plain prose,” with a phrase or two in verse.

31. (H.) Line 4.

 
On yonder lily lee.
 

27. (S.)

 
That his merrie men might not see.
 

33. (H.) Scott deletes the stanza.

35. (H.)

 
When stout Sir Hugh wi’ Piercy met.
 

30. (S.)

 
The Percy and Montgomery met. ⁴⁷
 

36. (H.)

 
“O yield thee, Piercy,” said Sir Hugh,
“O yield, or ye shall die!”
“Fain would I yield,” proud Percy said,
“But ne’er to loon like thee.”
 

31. (S.)

 
“Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,” he said,
“Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low,”
“To whom must I yield,” quoth Earl Percy,
“Now that I see it must be so?”
 

Scott took this from Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s MS. copy. ⁴⁸

38. (H.)

38. (S.) Scott makes a slight verbal alteration.

39. (H.) Line 1.

34. (S.) Line 1.

Scott substitutes Herd’s

 
As soon as he knew it was Montgomery.
 

40. (H.) Hogg’s broken stanza on the death of Montgomery, derived from a lost form of the Huntiss of Chevets, named in The Complaynte of Scotland.

35. (S.) Scott omits giving the formula common to the English of 1550 and to Herd. This was the whole of Scott’s editorial alteration. Any one may discover the facts from Professor Kittredge’s useful abbreviation of Child’s collection into a single volume (Nutt. London, 1905). Colonel Elliot quotes Professor Kittredge’s book three or four times, but in place of looking at the facts he abounds in the Higher Criticism. Colonel Elliot says that Scott does not tell us of a single line having been borrowed from Percy’s version. ⁴⁹ Scott has only “a single line” to tell of, the fourth line in his stanza xxii., “Till he fell to the ground.”

For the rest, the old English version and Herd’s have many inter-borrowings of stanzas, but we do not know whether a Scot borrowed from an Englishman, or vice versa. Thus, in another and longer traditional version – Hogg’s – more correspondence must be expected than in Herd’s fourteen stanzas. It is, of course, open to scepticism to allege that Hogg merely made his text, invented the two crazy old reciters, and the whole story about them, and his second “pumping of their memories,” invented “Almonshire,” which he could not understand, and invented his last broken stanza on the death of Montgomery, to give the idea that The Huntiss of Chevets was mingled in the recollections of the reciters with The Battle of Otterburn. He also gave the sword in place of the pennon of Percy as the trophy of Douglas, “and the same with intent to deceive,” just as he pretended, in Auld Maitland, not to know what “springwalls” were, and wrote “springs: wall-stanes.” If this probable theory be correct, then Scott was the dupe of Truthful James. At all events, though for three years Scott was moving heaven and earth and Ettrick Forest to find a copy of a Scottish ballad of Otterburn, he did not sit down and make one, as, in Colonel Elliot’s system, he easily could and probably would have done.

Before studying his next ill deed, we must repeat that the Otterburn ballads prove that in early times one nation certainly pirated a ballad of a rival nation, and very ingeniously altered it and inverted the parts of the heroes.

We have next to examine a case in a later generation, in which a maker who was interested in one clan, pirated, perverted, and introverted the rôles of the heroes in a ballad by a maker interested in another clan. Either an Elliotophile perverted a ballad by a Scottophile, or a Scottophile perverted a ballad by an Elliotophile.

This might be done at the time when the ballad was made (say 1620–60). But Colonel Elliot believes that the perversion was inflicted on an Elliotophile ballad by a Scottophile impostor about 1800–1802. The name of this desperate and unscrupulous character was Walter Scott, Sheriff of Ettrick Forest, commonly called Selkirkshire.

In this instance I have no manuscript evidence. The name of “Jamie of the Fair Dodhead,” the ballad, appears in a list of twenty-two ballads in Sir Walter’s hand, written in a commonplace book about 1800–1801. Eleven are marked X. “Jamie” is one of that eleven. Kinmont Willie is among the eleven not marked X. We may conjecture that he had obtained the first eleven, and was hunting for the second eleven, – some of which he never got, or never published.

THE MYSTERY OF THE BALLAD OF JAMIE TELFER

I
A RIDING SONG

The Ballad of Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead has many charms for lovers of the Border. The swift and simple stanzas carry us through a great tract of country, which remains not unlike what it was in the days when Scotts, Armstrongs, and Elliots rode the hills in jack and knapscap, with sword and lance. The song leads us first, with a foraging party of English riders, from Bewcastle, an English hold, east of the Border stream of the Liddel; then through the Armstrong tribe, on the north bank; then through more Armstrongs north across Tarras water (“Tarras for the good bull trout”); then north up Ewes water, that springs from the feet of the changeless green hills and the pastorum loca vasta, where now only the shepherd or the angler wakens the cry of the curlews, but where then the Armstrongs were in force. We ride on, as it were, and look down into the dale of the stripling Teviot, electro clarior (then held by the Scotts); we descend and ford “Borthwick’s roaring strand,” as Leyden sings, though the burn is usually a purling brook even where it joins Teviot, three miles above Hawick.

Next we pass across the green waves of moorlands that rise to the heights over Ettrick (held by the Scotts), whence the foragers of the song gallop down to “The Fair Dodhead,” now a heap of grass-covered stones, but in their day a peel tower, occupied, according to the ballad, by one James Telfer. The English rob the peel tower, they drive away ten cows, and urge them southwards over Borthwick water, then across Teviot at Coultart Cleugh (say seven miles above Hawick), then up the Frostily burn, and so down Ewes water as before; but the Scottish pursuers meet them before they cross the Liddel again into English bounds. The English are defeated, their captain is shot through the head (which in no way affects his power of making speeches); he is taken, twenty or thirty of his men are killed or wounded, his own cattle are seized, and his victim Telfer, returns rejoicing to Dodhead in distant Ettrick.

C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre! These events never occurred, as we shall see later, yet the poet has the old reiving spirit, the full sense of the fierce manly times, and possesses a traditional knowledge of the historical personages of the day, and knows the country, – more or less.

The poem has raised as many difficulties as Nestor’s long story about raided cattle in the eleventh book of the Iliad. Historical Greece knew but dimly the places which were familiar to Nestor, the towns that time had ruined, the hill where Athene “turned the people again.” We, too, have to seek in documents of the end of the sixteenth century, or in an old map of 1654 (drawn about 1600), to find Dodhead, Catslack, or Catloch, or Catlock hill, and Preakinhaugh, places essential to our inquiry.

I see the student who has ventured so far into my tract wax wan! He does not, – she does not, – wish to hear about dusty documents and ancient maps. For him or for her the ballad is enough, and a very good ballad it is. I would shake the faith of no man in the accuracy of the ballad tale, if it were not necessary for me to defend the character of Sir Walter Scott, which, on occasion of this and other ballads, is impugned by Colonel the Hon. FitzWilliam Elliot. He “hopes, though he cannot expect,” that I will give my reasons for not sharing his belief that Sir Walter did a certain thing which I could not easily palliate. ⁵⁰

II
THE BALLAD IMPOSSIBLE

My attempts to relieve Colonel Elliot from his painful convictions about Sir Walter’s unsportsmanlike behaviour must begin with proof that the ballad, as it stands, cannot conceivably be other than “a pack o’ lees.” Here Colonel Elliot, to a great extent and on an essential point, agrees with me. In sketching rapidly the story of the ballad, – the raid from England into Ettrick, the return of the raiders, the pursuit, – I omitted the clou, the pivot, the central point of dramatic interest. It is this: in one version of the ballad, – call it A for the present, – the unfortunate Telfer runs to ask aid from the laird of Buccleuch, at Branksome Hall, some three and a half or four miles above Hawick, on the Teviot. From the Dodhead it was a stiff run of eight miles, through new-fallen snow. The farmer of Dodhead, in the centre of the Scott country, naturally went for help to the nearest of his neighbours, the greatest chief in the mid-Border. In version A (which I shall call “the Elliot version”), “auld Buccleuch” (who was a man of about thirty in fact) was deaf to Telfer’s prayer.

 
Gae seek your succour frae Martin Elliot,
For succour ye’s get nane frae me,
Gae seek your succour where ye paid blackmail,
For, man, ye ne’er paid money to me.
 

This is impossibly absurd! As Colonel Elliot writes, “I pointed out in my book” (The Trustworthiness of Border Ballads) “that the allegation that Buccleuch had refused to strike a blow at a party of English raiders, who had insolently ridden some twenty-five miles into Scottish ground and into the very middle of his own territory, was too absurd to be believed.. ” ⁵¹

Certainly; and the story is the more ridiculous as Buccleuch (who has taken Telfer’s protection-money, or “blackmail”) pretends to believe that Telfer – living in Ettrick, about nine miles from Selkirk – pays protection-money to Martin Elliot, residing at Preakinhaugh, high up the water of Liddel. Martin was too small a potentate, and far too remote to be chosen as protector by a man living near the farm of Singlee on Ettrick, and near the bold Buccleuch.

All this is nonsense. Colonel Elliot sees that, and suggests that all this is not by the original poet, but has been “inserted at some later period.” ⁵² But, if so, what was the original ballad before the insertion? As it stands, all hinges on this impossible refusal of Buccleuch to help his neighbour and retainer, James Telfer. If Colonel Elliot excises Buccleuch’s refusal of aid as a later interpolation, and if he allows Telfer to reach Branksome and receive the aid which Buccleuch would rejoice to give, then the Elliot version of the ballad cannot take a further step. It becomes a Scott ballad, Buccleuch sends out his Scotts to pursue the English raiders, and the Elliots, if they come in at all, must only be subordinates. But as the Elliot version stands, it is Buccleuch’s refusal to do his duty that compels poor Jamie to run to his brother-in-law, “auld Jock Grieve” in Coultartcleugh, four miles higher on Teviot than Branksome. Jock gives him a mount, and he rides to “Martin’s Hab” at “Catlockhill,” a place unknown to research thereabout. Thence they both ride to Martin Elliot at Preakinhaugh, high up in Liddesdale, and the Elliots under Martin rescue Jamie’s kye.

Now the original ballad, if it did not contain Buccleuch’s refusal of aid to Telfer (which refusal is a thing “too absurd to be believed”) must merely have told about the rescue of Jamie’s kye by the Scotts, Wat of Harden, and the rest. If Buccleuch did not refuse help he gave it, and there was no ride by Telfer to Martin Elliot. Therefore, without a passage “too absurd to be believed” (Buccleuch’s refusal), there could be no Elliots in the story. The alternative is, that Telfer in Ettrick did pay blackmail to a man so remote as Elliot of Preakinhaugh, though Buccleuch was his chief and his neighbour. This is absurd. Yet Colonel Elliot firmly maintains that the version, in which the Elliots have all the glory and Buccleuch all the shame, is the original version, and is true on essential points.

That is only possible if we cut out the verses about Buccleuch and make an Ettrick man not appeal to him, but go direct to a Liddesdale man for succour. He must run from Dodhead to Coultartcleugh, get a horse from Jock Grieve (Buccleuch’s man and tenant), and then ride into Liddesdale to Martin. But an Ettrick man, in a country of Scotts, would inevitably go to his chief and neighbour, Buccleuch: it is inconceivable that he should choose the remote Martin Elliot as his protector, and go to him.

Thus, as a corollary from Colonel Elliot’s own disbelief in the Buccleuch incident, the Elliot version of the ballad must be absolutely false and foolish.

If Colonel Elliot leaves in the verses on Buccleuch’s refusal, he leaves in what he calls “too absurd to be believed.” If he cuts out these verses as an interpolation, then Buccleuch lent aid to Telfer, and there was no occasion to approach Martin Elliot. Or, by a third course, the Elliot ballad originally made an Ettrick man, a neighbour of the great Buccleuch, never dream of appealing to him for help, but run to Coultartcleugh, four miles above Buccleuch’s house, and thence make his way over to distant Liddesdale to Martin Elliot! Yet Colonel Elliot says that in what I call “the Elliot version,” “the story defies criticism.” ⁵³ Now, however you take it, – I give you three choices, – the story is absolutely impossible.

This Elliot version was unknown to lovers of the ballads, till the late Professor Child of Harvard, the greatest master of British ballad-lore that ever lived, in his beautiful English and Scottish Popular Ballads, printed it from a manuscript belonging to Mr. Macmath, which had previously been the property of a friend of Scott, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. This version is entitled “Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead,” not “of”: Jamie was a tenant (there was no Jamie Telfer tenant of Dodhead in 1570–1609, but concerning that I have more to say). Jamie was no laird.

Before Professor Child’s publication of the Elliot version, we had only that given by Scott in The Border Minstrelsy of 1802. Now Scott’s version is at least as absurdly incredible as the Elliot version. In Scott’s version the unhappy Jamie runs, not to Branksome and Buccleuch, to meet a refusal; but to “the Stobs’s Ha’”(on Slitterick above Hawick) and to “auld Gibby Elliot,” the laird. Elliot bids him go to Branksome and the laird of Buccleuch,

 
For, man, ye never paid money to me!
 

Naturally Telfer did not pay to Elliot: he paid to Buccleuch, if to any one. More, till after the Union of 1603, and the end of Border raids, Gilbert Elliot, a cousin and friend of Buccleuch, was not the owner of Stobs. The Hon. George Elliot pointed out this fact in his Border Elliots and the Family of Minto: Colonel Elliot rightly insists on this point.

The Scott version is therefore as hopelessly false as the Elliot version. The Elliot version, with the Buccleuch incident, is “too absurd to be believed,” and could not have been written (except in banter of Buccleuch), while men remembered the customs of the sixteenth century. The Scott version, again, could not be composed before the tradition arose that Gilbert Elliot was laird of Stobs before the Union of the Crowns in 1603. Now that tradition was in full force on the Border before 1688. We know that (see chapter on Kinmont Willie, infra), for, in 1688, a man born in 1613, Captain Walter Scott of Satchells, in his Metrical History of the Honourable Families of the Names of Scott and Elliot, represents Gilbert Elliot of Stobs as riding with Buccleuch in the rescue of Kinmont Willie, in 1596. ⁵⁴ Now Satchells’s own father rode in that fray, he says, ⁵⁵ and he gives a minute genealogy of the Elliots of Stobs. ⁵⁶

Thus the belief that Gilbert Elliot was laird of Stobs by 1596 was current in the traditions of a man born seventeen years after 1596. The Scott version rests on that tradition, and is not earlier than the rise of that erroneous belief.

Neither the Scott nor Elliot version is other than historically false. But the Scott version, if we cut out the reference to auld Gibby Elliot, offers a conceivable, though not an actual, course of events. The Elliot version, if we excise the Buccleuch incident, does not. Cutting out the Buccleuch incident, Telfer goes all the way from Ettrick to Liddesdale, seeking help in that remote country, and never thinks of asking aid from Buccleuch, his neighbour and chief. This is idiotic. In the Scott version, if we cut out the refusal of Gilbert Elliot of Stobs, Telfer goes straight to his brother-in-law, auld Jock Grieve, within four miles of Buccleuch at Branksome; thence to another friend, William’s Wat, at Catslockhill (now Branksome-braes), and so to Buccleuch at Branksome. This is absurd enough. Telfer would have gone straight to Branksome and Buccleuch, unless he were a poor shy small farmer, who wanted sponsors, known to Buccleuch. Jock Grieve and William’s Wat, both of them retainers and near neighbours of Buccleuch, were such sponsors. Granting this, the Scott version runs smoothly, Telfer goes to his sponsors, and with his sponsors to Buccleuch, and Buccleuch’s men rescue his kye.