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THE TAPESTRIED CHAMBER

by Sir Walter Scott

INTRODUCTION.

This is another little story from The Keepsake of 1828. It was

told to me many years ago by the late Miss Anna Seward, who,

among other accomplishments that rendered her an amusing inmate

in a country house, had that of recounting narratives of this

sort with very considerable effect--much greater, indeed, than

any one would be apt to guess from the style of her written

performances. There are hours and moods when most people are not

displeased to listen to such things; and I have heard some of the

greatest and wisest of my contemporaries take their share in

telling them.

AUGUST 1831

THE TAPESTRIED CHAMBER;

OR,

THE LADY IN THE SACQUE.

The following narrative is given from the pen, so far as memory

permits, in the same character in which it was presented to the

author's ear; nor has he claim to further praise, or to be more

deeply censured, than in proportion to the good or bad judgment

which he has employed in selecting his materials, as he has

studiously avoided any attempt at ornament which might interfere

with the simplicity of the tale.

At the same time, it must be admitted that the particular class

of stories which turns on the marvellous possesses a stronger

influence when told than when committed to print. The volume

taken up at noonday, though rehearsing the same incidents,

conveys a much more feeble impression than is achieved by the

voice of the speaker on a circle of fireside auditors, who hang

upon the narrative as the narrator details the minute incidents

which serve to give it authenticity, and lowers his voice with an

affectation of mystery while he approaches the fearful and

wonderful part. It was with such advantages that the present

writer heard the following events related, more than twenty years

since, by the celebrated Miss Seward of Litchfield, who, to her

numerous accomplishments, added, in a remarkable degree, the

power of narrative in private conversation. In its present form

the tale must necessarily lose all the interest which was

attached to it by the flexible voice and intelligent features of

the gifted narrator. Yet still, read aloud to an undoubting

audience by the doubtful light of the closing evening, or in

silence by a decaying taper, and amidst the solitude of a half-

lighted apartment, it may redeem its character as a good ghost

story. Miss Seward always affirmed that she had derived her

information from an authentic source, although she suppressed the

names of the two persons chiefly concerned. I will not avail

myself of any particulars I may have since received concerning

the localities of the detail, but suffer them to rest under the

same general description in which they were first related to me;

and for the same reason I will not add to or diminish the

narrative by any circumstance, whether more or less material, but

simply rehearse, as I heard it, a story of supernatural terror.

About the end of the American war, when the officers of Lord

Cornwallis's army, which surrendered at Yorktown, and others, who

had been made prisoners during the impolitic and ill-fated

controversy, were returning to their own country, to relate their

adventures, and repose themselves after their fatigues, there was

amongst them a general officer, to whom Miss S. gave the name of

Browne, but merely, as I understood, to save the inconvenience of

introducing a nameless agent in the narrative. He was an officer

of merit, as well as a gentleman of high consideration for family

and attainments.

Some business had carried General Browne upon a tour through the

western counties, when, in the conclusion of a morning stage, he

found himself in the vicinity of a small country town, which

presented a scene of uncommon beauty, and of a character

peculiarly English.

The little town, with its stately old church, whose tower bore

testimony to the devotion of ages long past, lay amidst pastures

and cornfields of small extent, but bounded and divided with

hedgerow timber of great age and size. There were few marks of

modern improvement. The environs of the place intimated neither

the solitude of decay nor the bustle of novelty; the houses were

old, but in good repair; and the beautiful little river murmured

freely on its way to the left of the town, neither restrained by

a dam nor bordered by a towing-path.

Upon a gentle eminence, nearly a mile to the southward of the

town, were seen, amongst many venerable oaks and tangled

thickets, the turrets of a castle as old as the walls of York and

Lancaster, but which seemed to have received important

alterations during the age of Elizabeth and her successor, It had

not been a place of great size; but whatever accommodation it

formerly afforded was, it must be supposed, still to be obtained

within its walls. At least, such was the inference which General

Browne drew from observing the smoke arise merrily from several

of the ancient wreathed and carved chimney-stalks. The wall of

the park ran alongside of the highway for two or three hundred

yards; and through the different points by which the eye found

glimpses into the woodland scenery, it seemed to be well stocked.

Other points of view opened in succession--now a full one of the

front of the old castle, and now a side glimpse at its particular

towers, the former rich in all the bizarrerie of the Elizabethan

school, while the simple and solid strength of other parts of the

building seemed to show that they had been raised more for

defence than ostentation.

Delighted with the partial glimpses which he obtained of the

castle through the woods and glades by which this ancient feudal

fortress was surrounded, our military traveller was determined to

inquire whether it might not deserve a nearer view, and whether

it contained family pictures or other objects of curiosity worthy

of a stranger's visit, when, leaving the vicinity of the park, he

rolled through a clean and well-paved street, and stopped at the

door of a well-frequented inn.

Before ordering horses, to proceed on his journey, General Browne

made inquiries concerning the proprietor of the chateau which had

so attracted his admiration, and was equally surprised and

pleased at hearing in reply a nobleman named, whom we shall call

Lord Woodville. How fortunate! Much of Browne's early

recollections, both at school and at college, had been connected

with young Woodville, whom, by a few questions, he now

ascertained to be the same with the owner of this fair domain.

He had been raised to the peerage by the decease of his father a

few months before, and, as the General learned from the landlord,

the term of mourning being ended, was now taking possession of

his paternal estate in the jovial season of merry, autumn,

accompanied by a select party of friends, to enjoy the sports of

a country famous for game.

This was delightful news to our traveller. Frank Woodville had

been Richard Browne's fag at Eton, and his chosen intimate at

Christ Church; their pleasures and their tasks had been the same;

and the honest soldier's heart warmed to find his early friend in

possession of so delightful a residence, and of an estate, as the

landlord assured him with a nod and a wink, fully adequate to

maintain and add to his dignity. Nothing was more natural than

that the traveller should suspend a journey, which there was

nothing to render hurried, to pay a visit to an old friend under

such agreeable circumstances.

The fresh horses, therefore, had only the brief task of conveying

the General's travelling carriage to Woodville Castle. A porter

admitted them at a modern Gothic lodge, built in that style to

correspond with the castle itself, and at the same time rang a

bell to give warning of the approach of visitors. Apparently the

sound of the bell had suspended the separation of the company,

bent on the various amusements of the morning; for, on entering

the court of the chateau, several young men were lounging about

in their sporting dresses, looking at and criticizing the dogs

which the keepers held in readiness to attend their pastime. As

General Browne alighted, the young lord came to the gate of the

hall, and for an instant gazed, as at a stranger, upon the

countenance of his friend, on which war, with its fatigues and

its wounds, had made a great alteration. But the uncertainty

lasted no longer than till the visitor had spoken, and the hearty

greeting which followed was such as can only be exchanged betwixt

those who have passed together the merry days of careless boyhood

or early youth.

"If I could have formed a wish, my dear Browne," said Lord

Woodville, "it would have been to have you here, of all men, upon

this occasion, which my friends are good enough to hold as a sort

of holiday. Do not think you have been unwatched during the

years you have been absent from us. I have traced you through

your dangers, your triumphs, your misfortunes, and was delighted

to see that, whether in victory or defeat, the name of my old

friend was always distinguished with applause."

The General made a suitable reply, and congratulated his friend

on his new dignities, and the possession of a place and domain so

beautiful.

"Nay, you have seen nothing of it as yet," said Lord Woodville,

"and I trust you do not mean to leave us till you are better

acquainted with it. It is true, I confess, that my present party

is pretty large, and the old house, like other places of the

kind, does not possess so much accommodation as the extent of the

outward walls appears to promise. But we can give you a

comfortable old-fashioned room, and I venture to suppose that

your campaigns have taught you to be glad of worse quarters."

The General shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. "I presume," he

said, "the worst apartment in your chateau is considerably

superior to the old tobacco-cask in which I was fain to take up

my night's lodging when I was in the Bush, as the Virginians call

it, with the light corps. There I lay, like Diogenes himself, so

delighted with my covering from the elements, that I made a vain

attempt to have it rolled on to my next quarters; but my

commander for the time would give way to no such luxurious

provision, and I took farewell of my beloved cask with tears in

my eyes."

"Well, then, since you do not fear your quarters," said Lord

Woodville, "you will stay with me a week at least. Of guns,

dogs, fishing-rods, flies, and means of sport by sea and land, we

have enough and to spare--you cannot pitch on an amusement but we

will find the means of pursuing it. But if you prefer the gun

and pointers, I will go with you myself, and see whether you have

mended your shooting since you have been amongst the Indians of

the back settlements."

The General gladly accepted his friendly host's proposal in all

its points. After a morning of manly exercise, the company met

at dinner, where it was the delight of Lord Woodville to conduce

to the display of the high properties of his recovered friend, so

as to recommend him to his guests, most of whom were persons of

distinction. He led General Browne to speak of the scenes he had

witnessed; and as every word marked alike the brave officer and

the sensible man, who retained possession of his cool judgment

under the most imminent dangers, the company looked upon the

soldier with general respect, as on one who had proved himself

possessed of an uncommon portion of personal courage--that

attribute of all others of which everybody desires to be thought

possessed.

The day at Woodville Castle ended as usual in such mansions. The

hospitality stopped within the limits of good order. Music, in

which the young lord was a proficient, succeeded to the

circulation of the bottle; cards and billiards, for those who

preferred such amusements, were in readiness; but the exercise of

the morning required early hours, and not long after eleven

o'clock the guests began to retire to their several apartments.

The young lord himself conducted his friend, General Browne, to

the chamber destined for him, which answered the description he

had given of it, being comfortable, but old-fashioned, The bed

was of the massive form used in the end of the seventeenth

century, and the curtains of faded silk, heavily trimmed with

tarnished gold. But then the sheets, pillows, and blankets

looked delightful to the campaigner, when he thought of his

"mansion, the cask." There was an air of gloom in the tapestry

hangings, which, with their worn-out graces, curtained the walls

of the little chamber, and gently undulated as the autumnal

breeze found its way through the ancient lattice window, which

pattered and whistled as the air gained entrance. The toilet,

too, with its mirror, turbaned after the manner of the beginning

of the century, with a coiffure of murrey-coloured silk, and its

hundred strange-shaped boxes, providing for arrangements which

had been obsolete for more than fifty years, had an antique, and

in so far a melancholy, aspect. But nothing could blaze more

brightly and cheerfully than the two large wax candles; or if

aught could rival them, it was the flaming, bickering fagots in

the chimney, that sent at once their gleam and their warmth

through the snug apartment, which, notwithstanding the general

antiquity of its appearance, was not wanting in the least

convenience that modern habits rendered either necessary or

desirable.

"This is an old-fashioned sleeping apartment, General," said the

young lord; "but I hope you find nothing that makes you envy your

old tobacco-cask."

"I am not particular respecting my lodgings," replied the

General; "yet were I to make any choice, I would prefer this

chamber by many degrees to the gayer and more modern rooms of

your family mansion. Believe me that, when I unite its modern

air of comfort with its venerable antiquity, and recollect that

it is your lordship's property, I shall feel in better quarters

here than if I were in the best hotel London could afford."

"I trust--I have no doubt--that you will find yourself as

comfortable as I wish you, my dear General," said the young

nobleman; and once more bidding his guest good-night, he shook

him by the hand, and withdrew.

The General once more looked round him, and internally

congratulating himself on his return to peaceful life, the

comforts of which were endeared by the recollection of the

hardships and dangers he had lately sustained, undressed himself,

and prepared for a luxurious night's rest.

Here, contrary to the custom of this species of tale, we leave

the General in possession of his apartment until the next

morning.

The company assembled for breakfast at an early hour, but without

the appearance of General Browne, who seemed the guest that Lord

Woodville was desirous of honouring above all whom his

hospitality had assembled around him. He more than once

expressed surprise at the General's absence, and at length sent a

servant to make inquiry after him. The man brought back

information that General Browne had been walking abroad since an

early hour of the morning, in defiance of the weather, which was

misty and ungenial.

"The custom of a soldier," said the young nobleman to his

friends. "Many of them acquire habitual vigilance, and cannot

sleep after the early hour at which their duty usually commands

them to be alert."

Yet the explanation which Lord Woodville thus offered to the

company seemed hardly satisfactory to his own mind, and it was in

a fit of silence and abstraction that he waited the return of the

General. It took place near an hour after the breakfast bell had

rung. He looked fatigued and feverish. His hair, the powdering

and arrangement of which was at this time one of the most

important occupations of a man's whole day, and marked his

fashion as much as in the present time the tying of a cravat, or

the want of one, was dishevelled, uncurled, void of powder, and

dank with dew. His clothes were huddled on with a careless

negligence, remarkable in a military man, whose real or supposed

duties are usually held to include some attention to the toilet;

and his looks were haggard and ghastly in a peculiar degree.

"So you have stolen a march upon us this morning, my dear

General," said Lord Woodville; "or you have not found your bed so

much to your mind as I had hoped and you seemed to expect. How

did you rest last night?"

"Oh, excellently well! remarkably well! never better in my

life," said General Browne rapidly, and yet with an air of

embarrassment which was obvious to his friend. He then hastily

swallowed a cup of tea, and neglecting or refusing whatever else

was offered, seemed to fall into a fit of abstraction.

"You will take the gun to-day, General?" said his friend and

host, but had to repeat the question twice ere he received the

abrupt answer, "No, my lord; I am sorry I cannot have the

opportunity of spending another day with your lordship; my post

horses are ordered, and will be here directly."

All who were present showed surprise, and Lord Woodville

immediately replied "Post horses, my good friend! What can you

possibly want with them when you promised to stay with me quietly

for at least a week?"

"I believe," said the General, obviously much embarrassed, "that

I might, in the pleasure of my first meeting with your lordship,

have said something about stopping here a few days; but I have

since found it altogether impossible."

"That is very extraordinary," answered the young nobleman. "You

seemed quite disengaged yesterday, and you cannot have had a

summons to-day, for our post has not come up from the town, and

therefore you cannot have received any letters."

General Browne, without giving any further explanation, muttered

something about indispensable business, and insisted on the

absolute necessity of his departure in a manner which silenced

all opposition on the part of his host, who saw that his

resolution was taken, and forbore all further importunity.

"At least, however," he said, "permit me, my dear Browne, since

go you will or must, to show you the view from the terrace, which

the mist, that is now rising, will soon display."

He threw open a sash-window, and stepped down upon the terrace as

he spoke. The General followed him mechanically, but seemed

little to attend to what his host was saying, as, looking across

an extended and rich prospect, he pointed out the different

objects worthy of observation. Thus they moved on till Lord

Woodville had attained his purpose of drawing his guest entirely

apart from the rest of the company, when, turning round upon him

with an air of great solemnity, he addressed him thus:--

"Richard Browne, my old and very dear friend, we are now alone.

Let me conjure you to answer me upon the word of a friend, and

the honour of a soldier. How did you in reality rest during last

night?"

"Most wretchedly indeed, my lord," answered the General, in the

same tone of solemnity--"so miserably, that I would not run the

risk of such a second night, not only for all the lands

belonging to this castle, but for all the country which I see

from this elevated point of view."

"This is most extraordinary," said the young lord, as if speaking

to himself; "then there must be something in the reports

concerning that apartment." Again turning to the General, he

said, "For God's sake, my dear friend, be candid with me, and let

me know the disagreeable particulars which have befallen you

under a roof, where, with consent of the owner, you should have

met nothing save comfort."

The General seemed distressed by this appeal, and paused a moment

before he replied. "My dear lord," he at length said, "what

happened to me last night is of a nature so peculiar and so

unpleasant, that I could hardly bring myself to detail it even to

your lordship, were it not that, independent of my wish to

gratify any request of yours, I think that sincerity on my part

may lead to some explanation about a circumstance equally painful

and mysterious. To others, the communication I am about to make,

might place me in the light of a weak-minded, superstitious fool,

who suffered his own imagination to delude and bewilder him; but

you have known me in childhood and youth, and will not suspect me

of having adopted in manhood the feelings and frailties from

which my early years were free." Here he paused, and his friend

replied,--

"Do not doubt my perfect confidence in the truth of your

communication, however strange it may be," replied Lord

Woodville. "I know your firmness of disposition too well, to

suspect you could be made the object of imposition, and am aware

that your honour and your friendship will equally deter you from

exaggerating whatever you may have witnessed."

"Well, then," said the General, "I will proceed with my story as

well as I can, relying upon your candour, and yet distinctly

feeling that I would rather face a battery than recall to my mind

the odious recollections of last night."

He paused a second time, and then perceiving that Lord Woodville

remained silent and in an attitude of attention, he commenced,

though not without obvious reluctance, the history of his night's

adventures in the Tapestried Chamber.

"I undressed and went to bed so soon as your lordship left me

yesterday evening; but the wood in the chimney, which nearly

fronted my bed, blazed brightly and cheerfully, and, aided by a

hundred exciting recollections of my childhood and youth, which

had been recalled by the unexpected pleasure of meeting your

lordship, prevented me from falling immediately asleep. I ought,

however, to say that these reflections were all of a pleasant and

agreeable kind, grounded on a sense of having for a time

exchanged the labour, fatigues, and dangers of my profession for

the enjoyments of a peaceful life, and the reunion of those

friendly and affectionate ties which I had torn asunder at the

rude summons of war.

"While such pleasing reflections were stealing over my mind, and

gradually lulling me to slumber, I was suddenly aroused by a

sound like that of the rustling of a silken gown, and the tapping

of a pair of high-heeled shoes, as if a woman were walking in the

apartment. Ere I could draw the curtain to see what the matter

was, the figure of a little woman passed between the bed and the

fire. The back of this form was turned to me, and I could

observe, from the shoulders and neck, it was that of an old

woman, whose dress was an old-fashioned gown, which I think

ladies call a sacque--that is, a sort of robe completely loose in

the body, but gathered into broad plaits upon the neck and

shoulders, which fall down to the ground, and terminate in a

species of train.

"I thought the intrusion singular enough, but never harboured for

a moment the idea that what I saw was anything more than the

mortal form of some old woman about the establishment, who had a

fancy to dress like her grandmother, and who, having perhaps (as

your lordship mentioned that you were rather straitened for room)

been dislodged from her chamber for my accommodation, had

forgotten the circumstance, and returned by twelve to her old

haunt. Under this persuasion I moved myself in bed and coughed a

little, to make the intruder sensible of my being in possession

of the premises. She turned slowly round, but, gracious Heaven!

my lord, what a countenance did she display to me! There was no

longer any question what she was, or any thought of her being a

living being. Upon a face which wore the fixed features of a

corpse were imprinted the traces of the vilest and most hideous

passions which had animated her while she lived. The body of

some atrocious criminal seemed to have been given up from the

grave, and the soul restored from the penal fire, in order to

form for a space a union with the ancient accomplice of its

guilt. I started up in bed, and sat upright, supporting myself

on my palms, as I gazed on this horrible spectre. The hag made,

as it seemed, a single and swift stride to the bed where I lay,

and squatted herself down upon it, in precisely the same attitude

which I had assumed in the extremity of horror, advancing her

diabolical countenance within half a yard of mine, with a grin

which seemed to intimate the malice and the derision of an

incarnate fiend."

Here General Browne stopped, and wiped from his brow the cold

perspiration with which the recollection of his horrible vision

had covered it.

"My lord," he said, "I am no coward, I have been in all the

mortal dangers incidental to my profession, and I may truly boast

that no man ever knew Richard Browne dishonour the sword he

wears; but in these horrible circumstances, under the eyes, and,

as it seemed, almost in the grasp of an incarnation of an evil

spirit, all firmness forsook me, all manhood melted from me like

wax in the furnace, and I felt my hair individually bristle. The

current of my life-blood ceased to flow, and I sank back in a

swoon, as very a victim to panic terror as ever was a village

girl, or a child of ten years old. How long I lay in this

condition I cannot pretend to guess.

"But I was roused by the castle clock striking one, so loud that

it seemed as if it were in the very room. It was some time

before I dared open my eyes, lest they should again encounter the

horrible spectacle. When, however, I summoned courage to look

up, she was no longer visible. My first idea was to pull my

bell, wake the servants, and remove to a garret or a hay-loft, to

be ensured against a second visitation. Nay, I will confess the

truth that my resolution was altered, not by the shame of

exposing myself, but by the fear that, as the bell-cord hung by

the chimney, I might, in making my way to it, be again crossed by

the fiendish hag, who, I figured to myself, might be still

lurking about some corner of the apartment.

"I will not pretend to describe what hot and cold fever-fits

tormented me for the rest of the night, through broken sleep,

weary vigils, and that dubious state which forms the neutral

ground between them. A hundred terrible objects appeared to

haunt me; but there was the great difference betwixt the vision

which I have described, and those which followed, that I knew the

last to be deceptions of my own fancy and over-excited nerves.

"Day at last appeared, and I rose from my bed ill in health and

humiliated in mind. I was ashamed of myself as a man and a

soldier, and still more so at feeling my own extreme desire to

escape from the haunted apartment, which, however, conquered all

other considerations; so that, huddling on my clothes with the

most careless haste, I made my escape from your lordship's

mansion, to seek in the open air some relief to my nervous

system, shaken as it was by this horrible rencounter with a

visitant, for such I must believe her, from the other world.

Your lordship has now heard the cause of my discomposure, and of

my sudden desire to leave your hospitable castle. In other

places I trust we may often meet, but God protect me from ever

spending a second night under that roof!"

Strange as the General's tale was, he spoke with such a deep air

of conviction that it cut short all the usual commentaries which

are made on such stories. Lord Woodville never once asked him if

he was sure he did not dream of the apparition, or suggested any

of the possibilities by which it is fashionable to explain

supernatural appearances as wild vagaries of the fancy, or

deceptions of the optic nerves, On the contrary, he seemed deeply

impressed with the truth and reality of what he had heard; and,

after a considerable pause regretted, with much appearance of

sincerity, that his early friend should in his house have

suffered so severely.

"I am the more sorry for your pain, my dear Browne," he

continued, "that it is the unhappy, though most unexpected,

result of an experiment of my own. You must know that, for my

father and grandfather's time, at least, the apartment which was

assigned to you last night had been shut on account of reports

that it was disturbed by supernatural sights and noises. When I

came, a few weeks since, into possession of the estate, I thought

the accommodation which the castle afforded for my friends was

not extensive enough to permit the inhabitants of the invisible

world to retain possession of a comfortable sleeping apartment.

I therefore caused the Tapestried Chamber, as we call it, to be

opened, and, without destroying its air of antiquity, I had such

new articles of furniture placed in it as became the modern

times. Yet, as the opinion that the room was haunted very

strongly prevailed among the domestics, and was also known in the

neighbourhood and to many of my friends, I feared some prejudice

might be entertained by the first occupant of the Tapestried

Chamber, which might tend to revive the evil report which it had

laboured under, and so disappoint my purpose of rendering it a

useful part or the house. I must confess, my dear Browne, that

your arrival yesterday, agreeable to me for a thousand reasons

besides, seemed the most favourable opportunity of removing the

unpleasant rumours which attached to the room, since your courage

was indubitable, and your mind free of any preoccupation on the

subject. I could not, therefore, have chosen a more fitting

subject for my experiment."

"Upon my life," said General Browne, somewhat hastily, "I am

infinitely obliged to your lordship--very particularly indebted

indeed. I am likely to remember for some time the consequences

of the experiment, as your lordship is pleased to call it."

"Nay, now you are unjust, my dear friend," said Lord Woodville.

"You have only to reflect for a single moment, in order to be

convinced that I could not augur the possibility of the pain to

which you have been so unhappily exposed. I was yesterday

morning a complete sceptic on the subject of supernatural

appearances. Nay, I am sure that, had I told you what was said

about that room, those very reports would have induced you, by

your own choice, to select it for your accommodation. It was my

misfortune, perhaps my error, but really cannot be termed my

fault, that you have been afflicted so strangely."

"Strangely indeed!" said the General, resuming his good temper;

"and I acknowledge that I have no right to be offended with your

lordship for treating me like what I used to think myself--a man

of some firmness and courage. But I see my post horses are

arrived, and I must not detain your lordship from your

amusement."

"Nay, my old friend," said Lord Woodville, "since you cannot stay

with us another day--which, indeed, I can no longer urge--give me

at least half an hour more. You used to love pictures, and I

have a gallery of portraits, some of them by Vandyke,

representing ancestry to whom this property and castle formerly

belonged. I think that several of them will strike you as

possessing merit."

General Browne accepted the invitation, though somewhat

unwillingly. It was evident he was not to breathe freely or at

ease till he left Woodville Castle far behind him. He could not

refuse his friend's invitation, however; and the less so, that he

was a little ashamed of the peevishness which he had displayed

towards his well-meaning entertainer.

The General, therefore, followed Lord Woodville through several

rooms into a long gallery hung with pictures, which the latter

pointed out to his guest, telling the names, and giving some

account of the personages whose portraits presented themselves in

progression. General Browne was but little interested in the

details which these accounts conveyed to him. They were, indeed,

of the kind which are usually found in an old family gallery.

Here was a Cavalier who had ruined the estate in the royal cause;

there a fine lady who had reinstated it by contracting a match

with a wealthy Roundhead. There hung a gallant who had been in

danger for corresponding with the exiled Court at Saint

Germain's; here one who had taken arms for William at the

Revolution; and there a third that had thrown his weight

alternately into the scale of Whig and Tory.

While lord Woodville was cramming these words into his guest's

ear, "against the stomach of his sense," they gained the middle

of the gallery, when he beheld General Browne suddenly start, and

assume an attitude of the utmost surprise, not unmixed with fear,

as his eyes were suddenly caught and riveted by a portrait of an

old lady in a sacque, the fashionable dress of the end of the

seventeenth century.

"There she is!" he exclaimed--"there she is, in form and

features, though Inferior in demoniac expression to the accursed

hag who visited me last night!"

"If that be the case," said the young nobleman, "there can remain

no longer any doubt of the horrible reality of your apparition.

That is the picture of a wretched ancestress of mine, of whose

crimes a black and fearful catalogue is recorded in a family

history in my charter-chest. The recital of them would be too

horrible; it is enough to say, that in yon fatal apartment incest

and unnatural murder were committed. I will restore it to the

solitude to which the better judgment of those who preceded me

had consigned it; and never shall any one, so long as I can

prevent it, be exposed to a repetition of the supernatural

horrors which could shake such courage as yours."

Thus the friends, who had met with such glee, parted in a very

different mood--Lord Woodville to command the Tapestried Chamber

to be unmantled, and the door built up; and General Browne to

seek in some less beautiful country, and with some less dignified

friend, forgetfulness of the painful night which he had passed in

Woodville Castle.

END OF THE TAPESTRIED CHAMBER.

DEATH OF THE LAIRD'S JOCK by Sir Walter Scott.

[The manner in which this trifle was introduced at the time to

Mr. F. M. Reynolds, editor of The Keepsake of 1828, leaves no

occasion for a preface.]

AUGUST 1831.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE KEEPSAKE.

You have asked me, sir, to point out a subject for the pencil,

and I feel the difficulty of complying with your request,

although I am not certainly unaccustomed to literary composition,

or a total stranger to the stores of history and tradition, which

afford the best copies for the painter's art. But although SICUT

PICTURA POESIS is an ancient and undisputed axiom--although

poetry and painting both address themselves to the same object of

exciting the human imagination, by presenting to it pleasing or

sublime images of ideal scenes--yet the one conveying itself

through the ears to the understanding, and the other applying

itself only to the eyes, the subjects which are best suited to

the bard or tale-teller are often totally unfit for painting,

where the artist must present in a single glance all that his art

has power to tell us. The artist can neither recapitulate the

past nor intimate the future. The single NOW is all which he can

present; and hence, unquestionably, many subjects which delight

us in poetry or in narrative, whether real or fictitious, cannot

with advantage be transferred to the canvas.

Being in some degree aware of these difficulties, though

doubtless unacquainted both with their extent and the means by

which they may be modified or surmounted, I have, nevertheless,

ventured to draw up the following traditional narrative as a

story in which, when the general details are known, the interest

is so much concentrated in one strong moment of agonizing

passion, that it can be understood and sympathized with at a

single glance. I therefore presume that it may be acceptable as

a hint to some one among the numerous artists who have of late

years distinguished themselves as rearing up and supporting the

British school.

Enough has been said and sung about

"The well-contested ground,

The warlike Border-land,"

to render the habits of the tribes who inhabited it before the

union of England and Scotland familiar to most of your readers.

The rougher and sterner features of their character were softened

by their attachment to the fine arts, from which has arisen the

saying that on the frontiers every dale had its battle, and every

river its song. A rude species of chivalry was in constant use,

and single combats were practised as the amusement of the few

intervals of truce which suspended the exercise of war. The

inveteracy of this custom may be inferred from the following

incident:--

Bernard Gilpin, the apostle of the north, the first who undertook

to preach the Protestant doctrines to the Border dalesmen, was

surprised, on entering one of their churches, to see a gauntlet

or mail-glove hanging above the altar. Upon inquiring; the

meaning of a symbol so indecorous being displayed in that sacred

place, he was informed by the clerk that the glove was that of a

famous swordsman, who hung it there as an emblem of a general

challenge and gage of battle to any who should dare to take the

fatal token down. "Reach it to me," said the reverend churchman.

The clerk and the sexton equally declined the perilous office,

and the good Bernard Gilpin was obliged to remove the glove with

his own hands, desiring those who were present to inform the

champion that he, and no other, had possessed himself of the gage

of defiance. But the champion was as much ashamed to face

Bernard Gilpin as the officials of the church had been to

displace his pledge of combat.

The date of the following story is about the latter years of

Queen Elizabeth's reign; and the events took place in Liddesdale,

a hilly and pastoral district of Roxburghshire, which, on a part

of its boundary, is divided from England only by a small river.

During the good old times of RUGGING AND RIVING--that is, tugging

and tearing--under which term the disorderly doings of the

warlike age are affectionately remembered, this valley was

principally cultivated by the sept or clan of the Armstrongs.

The chief of this warlike race was the Laird of Mangerton. At

the period of which I speak, the estate of Mangerton, with the

power and dignity of chief, was possessed by John Armstrong, a

man of great size, strength, and courage. While his father was

alive, he was distinguished from others of his clan who bore the

same name, by the epithet of the LAIRD'S JOCK--that is to say,

the Laird's son Jock, or Jack. This name he distinguished by so

many bold and desperate achievements, that he retained it even

after his father's death, and is mentioned under it both in

authentic records and in tradition. Some of his feats are

recorded in the minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and others are

mentioned in contemporary chronicles.

At the species of singular combat which we have described the

Laird's Jock was unrivalled, and no champion of Cumberland,

Westmoreland, or Northumberland could endure the sway of the huge

two-handed sword which he wielded, and which few others could

even lift. This "awful sword," as the common people term it, was

as dear to him as Durindana or Fushberta to their respective

masters, and was nearly as formidable to his enemies as those

renowned falchions proved to the foes of Christendom. The weapon

had been bequeathed to him by a celebrated English outlaw named

Hobbie Noble, who, having committed some deed for which he was in

danger from justice, fled to Liddesdale, and became a follower,

or rather a brother-in-arms, to the renowned Laird's Jock; till,

venturing into England with a small escort, a faithless guide,

and with a light single-handed sword instead of his ponderous

brand, Hobbie Noble, attacked by superior numbers, was made

prisoner and executed.

With this weapon, and by means of his own strength and address,

the Laird's Jock maintained the reputation of the best swordsman

on the Border side, and defeated or slew many who ventured to

dispute with him the formidable title.

But years pass on with the strong and the brave as with the

feeble and the timid. In process of time the Laird's Jock grew

incapable of wielding his weapons, and finally of all active

exertion, even of the most ordinary kind. The disabled champion

became at length totally bedridden, and entirely dependent for

his comfort on the pious duties of an only daughter, his

perpetual attendant and companion.

Besides this dutiful child, the Laird's Jock had an only son,

upon whom devolved the perilous task of leading the clan to

battle, and maintaining the warlike renown of his native country,

which was now disputed by the English upon many occasions. The

young Armstrong was active, brave, and strong, and brought home

from dangerous adventures many tokens of decided success. Still,

the ancient chief conceived, as it would seem, that his son was

scarce yet entitled by age and experience to be entrusted with

the two-handed sword, by the use of which he had himself been so

dreadfully distinguished.

At length an English champion, one of the name of Foster (if I

rightly recollect), had the audacity to send a challenge to the

best swordsman in Liddesdale; and young Armstrong, burning for

chivalrous distinction, accepted the challenge.

The heart of the disabled old man swelled with joy when he heard

that the challenge was passed and accepted, and the meeting fixed

at a neutral spot, used as the place of rencontre upon such

occasions, and which he himself had distinguished by numerous

victories. He exulted so much in the conquest which he

anticipated, that, to nerve his son to still bolder exertions, he

conferred upon him, as champion of his clan and province, the

celebrated weapon which he had hitherto retained in his own

custody.

This was not all. When the day of combat arrived, the Laird's

Jock, in spite of his daughter's affectionate remonstrances,

determined, though he had not left his bed for two years, to be a

personal witness of the duel. His will was still a law to his

people, who bore him on their shoulders, wrapped in plaids and

blankets, to the spot where the combat was to take place, and

seated him on a fragment of rock, which is still called the

Laird's Jock's stone. There he remained with eyes fixed on the

lists or barrier, within which the champions were about to meet.

His daughter, having done all she could for his accommodation,

stood motionless beside him, divided between anxiety for his

health, and for the event of the combat to her beloved brother.

Ere yet the fight began, the old men gazed on their chief, now

seen for the first time after several years, and sadly compared

his altered features and wasted frame with the paragon of

strength and manly beauty which they once remembered. The young

men gazed on his large form and powerful make as upon some

antediluvian giant who had survived the destruction of the Flood.

But the sound of the trumpets on both sides recalled the

attention of every one to the lists, surrounded as they were by

numbers of both nations eager to witness the event of the day.

The combatants met in the lists. It is needless to describe the

struggle: the Scottish champion fell. Foster, placing his foot

on his antagonist, seized on the redoubted sword, so precious in

the eyes of its aged owner, and brandished it over his head as a

trophy of his conquest. The English shouted in triumph. But the

despairing cry of the aged champion, who saw his country

dishonoured, and his sword, long the terror of their race, in the

possession of an Englishman, was heard high above the

acclamations of victory. He seemed for an instant animated by

all his wonted power; for he started from the rock on which he

sat, and while the garments with which he had been invested fell

from his wasted frame, and showed the ruins of his strength, he

tossed his arms wildly to heaven, and uttered a cry of

indignation, horror, and despair, which, tradition says, was

heard to a preternatural distance, and resembled the cry of a

dying lion more than a human sound.

His friends received him in their arms as he sank utterly

exhausted by the effort, and bore him back to his castle in mute

sorrow; while his daughter at once wept for her brother, and

endeavoured to mitigate and soothe the despair of her father.

But this was impossible; the old man's only tie to life was rent

rudely asunder, and his heart had broken with it. The death of

his son had no part in his sorrow. If he thought of him at all,

it was as the degenerate boy through whom the honour of his

country and clan had been lost; and he died in the course of

three days, never even mentioning his name, but pouring out

unintermitted lamentations for the loss of his noble sword.

I conceive that the moment when the disabled chief was roused

into a last exertion by the agony of the moment is favourable to

the object of a painter. He might obtain the full advantage of

contrasting the form of the rugged old man, in the extremity of

furious despair, with the softness and beauty of the female form.

The fatal field might be thrown into perspective, so as to give

full effect to these two principal figures, and with the single

explanation that the piece represented a soldier beholding his

son slain, and the honour of his country lost, the picture would

be sufficiently intelligible at the first glance. If it was

thought necessary to show more clearly the nature of the

conflict, it might be indicated by the pennon of Saint George

being displayed at one end of the lists, and that of Saint Andrew

at the other.

I remain, sir,

Your obedient servant,

THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.

End of

*The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tapestried Chamber, by Scott*

and

The Project Gutenberg Etext of Death of the Laird's Jock by Scott