XVI.
THE HARVEST OF PEACE
When this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hope;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o’er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
Shakespeare.
To those familiar with the history of Border reiving it may appear, on the first glance, somewhat inexplicable that in those districts where the system was most deeply rooted there should now be found one of the most orderly and law-abiding communities in the country. The old leaven, it would seem, has worked itself out, and that, too, with a rapidity and thoroughness which some may find difficult to reconcile with the modern doctrine of heredity. The laws of evolution, whether in the physical or social sphere, may operate with the precision and certainty of destiny, but the changes effected are brought about slowly, and with well-graded regularity. No doubt fifty or a hundred years is a considerable period measured by the standard of the individual life, but it is a brief term in the history of a nation or people. While considerable changes may take place in the course of a century, yet these are often of a more or less superficial character, affecting only to a limited extent the thoughts, habits, and customs of a community. In the present instance, however, the changes which took place in the life of the Border clans seem to have been as thorough as they were rapid. In a comparatively short time the Borders, from being one of the most lawless and disorderly districts in the country, became an example to both kingdoms in honesty, sobriety, and true patriotism. Such epithets as “brutal Borderers” and “lewd Liddesdales,” so freely banded about in earlier times, especially by the English wardens, speedily lost their significance. Those lawless reivers, whom neither warden nor king could effectively control, were not difficult to induce, when the proper time came, to turn their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks, and to settle down to a well-ordered, industrious, and peaceful mode of life. This phenomenon may doubtless be accounted for on purely natural principles. The explanation, indeed, is not difficult to discover. As we have already seen, the worst characters, the “broken men” – those who had no chiefs who could be made responsible for their good behaviour – were expatriated – sent to Holland and elsewhere – and consequently ceased to give further trouble. And it may be said in regard to those who remained that while they had spent the best part of their lives in appropriating the goods and chattels of their English neighbours, they were not by any means the depraved and degraded wretches they have so often been described. Far from it. These men for the most part believed, rightly or wrongly, that in despoiling and harassing their English neighbours they were rendering an important service to their country. They looked upon their reiving as being of the nature of reprisal. Time and again they had been hunted and harried by their “auld enemies,” and they thought it no sin, whenever they found an opportunity, to carry the war into the enemies’ camp. Moreover, it seems to have been an article of their creed – one of the “fundamentals” – that all property was common by the laws of nature, a doctrine which, even at the present day, is sometimes propounded with considerable show of logic by budding Border politicians. Their ethical system was simplicity itself. Might was right. The spoil belonged by natural law to the man who could either take or keep it. Of course it may be said that such notions are opposed to the foundation principles of all social and moral life. This may be conceded. But the fact that the Border reivers looked at things from a different point of view – while it may not mitigate the offence abstractly considered – had an important bearing and influence on their own moral life and character. There can be no doubt that it saved them from utter demoralization. He that doubteth is damned. But the Borderers were fully convinced that their action in plundering and despoiling those who lived in the opposite Marches was commendable and right. Johnie Armstrong may be taken as a faithful exponent of Border ethics when he says: —
For I’ve loved naething in my life,
I weel dare say it, but honesty.
He leaves us in no doubt as to what he means by the assertion. He does not deny that he took everything he could lay his hands on from the unfortunate English. He glories in the fact. It never occurs to him that he ought to feel ashamed of his conduct. But he avers that though he had lived for a hundred years never a Scot’s wife could have said that “ere he had skaithed her a puir flee.” It was right to rob the English; it was disgraceful to turn your hand against anyone belonging to your own country. Here we have the ethical system of the Border reiver in a nutshell.
But lawless as the Borders may have been in the olden time, they certainly do not at the present day bear many traces of their evil past. The Border counties, judging from the statistics of the Police and Sheriff Courts, have an excellent record, whether we consider the number or the nature of the cases dealt with. The following statistics speak for themselves: —
But these statistics would appear still more favourable were it not for the existence of what is known as the “Tweed Act,” which is responsible for a considerable proportion of the crime charged against the Border counties. In the county of Peebles, for example, fully 17 per cent. of the convictions recorded are under this exceptional statute. It is a law which is often fiercely denounced both by poachers and politicians, and of which few others have much that is kindly to say, with the exception perhaps of the riparian proprietors; but no really serious attempt has as yet been made to have the Tweed and its tributaries brought under the general law of the land. But notwithstanding the existence of this fruitful source of crime, the Borders compare not unfavourably with other districts. The population of Caithness, for instance, is only a little over 4000 higher than that of Berwick, and we find that the average number of convictions in that county for the past five years is 419, a fact which shows that the inhabitants of the south are quite as well conducted as those in the far north.
It is also worthy of note that the offences dealt with are for the most part of a petty nature. There are comparatively few cases of theft, or offences against the person. It may therefore be said that the Borders have emerged from the evil conditions of the past, bearing few traces, if any, of their former lawlessness. It was no doubt a hard school in which Borderers were trained, and, perhaps, as has been remarked, some of them are a trifle grim, and dour, and unsociable, deficient to some extent in the softer and kindlier virtues characteristic of the inhabitants of the western seaboard; but, considering the experiences through which they have passed, they have no reason to be ashamed of themselves.
And if Borderers have deficiencies arising out of the adverse circumstances with which they had so long to contend, they have also outstanding excellencies which have brought them well to the front in the race of life. They are brave, outspoken, independent. They think and act with energy and decision. They believe in themselves, rely upon their own resources, and where the struggle is most severe they almost invariably give a good account of themselves. Their contributions in modern times to the social and intellectual life of the nation have been considerable, and of a high quality. In agriculture, in commerce, in statesmanship, in warfare, and in many other departments, they have rendered important services. The Scotts and Kers and Elliots – names intimately associated with Border reiving in all its phases – have long held a foremost place in the political and social life of the country.
But the great feature of Border life in more modern times has been the almost marvellous efflorescence of the spirit of poesy, which has conferred on the district a unique distinction and an imperishable charm. It may seem strange that the home of the reiver should have become the birthplace of poetry and song; yet a moment’s reflection will suffice to show that here are to be found all the conditions which make life a tragedy and beget the feeling for it. The rough adventurous life of the Border reiver, with its constant peril and hairbreadth escapes, formed, as it were, a fitting compost for the cultivation of the tragic muse. And what ballads have sprung from this soil watered by the very heart’s blood of its people! “The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,” “The Douglas Tragedy,” “Johnie Armstrong,” “Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead,” “The Border Widow’s Lament,” “The Flowers of the Forest” – not to mention many others of almost equal merit – have taken possession of the imaginative and emotional life of the nation, and become part and parcel of its very being. Indeed, the influence of this varied body of balladic lore on the thought and life and character of the Scottish people can hardly be over-estimated. Spenser, to whose sublime genius we are indebted for the “Faery Queen,” is known to fame as “the poet’s poet.” It is a high distinction, and not unworthily bestowed. But in a still higher sense it may be said that the Border ballads have been a perennial fountain of poetic inspiration to all lovers of the Muse. Rough and rugged though many of them are, yet they are dowered with that potent spell which at once captivates the heart and awakens within it the deepest and tenderest emotions of which it is capable. Here, if anywhere, we find the Helicon of Scotland.
We may regret, with R. L. Stevenson, that the names of the old balladists have disappeared from the roll of fame. It would have been interesting to know who the singers were; but we may be thankful that the songs they sung have come down to our later age. They are a priceless inheritance, a glorious legacy. In these ballads the rugged cactus of Border life has burst into the most gorgeous blossom.
But this is not all. The ballad period, rich as it is in all the higher elements of dramatic and poetic suggestiveness, was but the beginning of an era of song, which has secured for the Borderland an unique distinction. In the beginning of the eighteenth century there was born in the manse of Ednam, in the neighbourhood of Kelso, one of the most renowned of Border poets, James Thomson, the author of “The Seasons,” “The Castle of Indolence,” “Rule Britannia,” and other pieces. His early youth was spent in the parish of Southdean, and here among the green rolling hills, and by the quiet streams, he stored his mind and imagination with those images of natural beauty which in later times, in a far-off city, he embodied in immortal verse. His services to the poetic literature of his age and country have been tardily, and often very inadequately, appreciated. To him mainly belongs the credit of bringing the minds of men back to nature and reality as the only genuine sources of poetic inspiration. He was the forerunner of Cowper, and Burns, and Wordsworth – the pioneer in a new and profoundly significant movement.
After a considerable interval, Scott, Hogg, and Leyden appear on the scene – names that will for ever remain enshrined in Border song and story. Scott was a Borderer of Borderers, a descendant of Auld Wat of Harden and Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow. His grandfather, on the maternal side, was Professor Rutherford, a famous man in his day, the scion of an old Border stock, renowned, like the Harden family, in the annals of reiving.
Hogg and Leyden occupy a place of honourable distinction in the life and literature of the Borders. “Kilmeny” is a masterpiece of imaginative genius, and has won for its author a fame which the lapse of time will not seriously impair. John Leyden, more renowned as a scholar and antiquary than a poet, gave evidence of the possession of powers which, had he been spared, would have secured for him a foremost place among the most brilliant men of his age. These services which the Borders have thus rendered to the literature of the country have been valuable and important in a high degree.
And – if we dare suggest it – it is not altogether improbable that even Burns himself was sprung of a Border stock. We find in the “Border Papers,” from which much of our information regarding Border reiving has been drawn, that the name “Burness” frequently occurs. The family bearing this patronymic was well known in Liddesdale and the Debateable land, and the various branches of the family, like the Armstrongs and Elliots, were distinguished for their reiving propensities. The grandfather of the poet found a home in Argyleshire, and Burns’ father, as is well known, hailed from Kincardineshire. The removal from the Borders of a representative of the family may be easily accounted for. Reference has already been made to a law which was passed by the Scottish Parliament enacting that the various families and clans on the Borders should find pledges for their good behaviour. These “pledges” were sent north of the Forth, and were strictly prohibited from returning to their former haunts. It is just possible that in this way an ancestor of Burns may have been called to leave the Border district in the interests of his family or clan. This much at least is certain, the name is one which was common on the Borders in those times of which we write. But whatever truth there may be in the suggestion we have made (it would be foolish to dogmatise in the absence of authentic information), Burns furnishes many points of resemblance to the distinctive traits of Border character in the olden time. His disregard of conventionality in all its forms, combined with his aggressive sense of independence, mark him out as of the true Border type.
This district, once so famous as the favourite haunt of the reiver, may now be described as one of the most peaceful in the country. Every year it attracts an increasing number of tourists, who come from almost every part of the world to visit its numerous shrines. To the literary and professional classes it has become a kind of Mecca, to which they feel constrained to resort once and again for intellectual refreshment and inspiration. The glamour which Scott, Wordsworth, and Hogg – and many other tuneful poets – have thrown around its green hills and bosky glens has given it an air of enchantment to which the poetic temperament especially is keenly sensitive. The pity is that in modern times, owing to a variety of causes, the population in the rural districts has been steadily decreasing. The fine hardy, thrifty, yeomen race is disappearing. Small holdings have been consolidated, and the big farm – in too many cases – is held by a non-resident tenant, who interests himself little, or not at all, in the social and moral well-being of those whom he is under the necessity of employing. This evil is one of long standing. In the Statistical Account of Yarrow, published in 1833, Dr Russell remarks that – “out of forty-five farms in the parish, twenty are led farms. On many of these were formerly large families, with servants and cottagers, and there are five such lying adjacent, – a state of things the more to be regretted, when its only advantage is a trifling addition of rent, and the saving of outlay on farm buildings.” Well may it be said —
“Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade,
A breath can make them, as a breath has made:
But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.”