The history of the ancient possessors of the tower is involved in obscurity. We only know that there were Barons of Smailholm, but no memorable qualities are recorded of them. They were, as we already observed, in the rank of the lesser Barons—that is, those who had not the patent of peerage, but who were dignified only by the extent of their possessions. But we know that the present proprietor, Mr. Scott, of Harden, is not a descendant of that ancient family, as we believe he acquired the estate by purchase. This gentleman cares so little for the antique pile within his domains, that it is not long since he intimated his intention to raze it to the ground, and from its materials to erect a steading to the farm of Sandy-knowe. This would have certainly taken place, had not his poetic kinsman, Sir Walter Scott, interfered, and averted the sacrilegious intent; and to prevent the recurrence of the resolution, he composed the admired ballad of the Eve of St. John, which ranks among the best in the Border Minstrelsy.
Tradition bears that it was inhabited by an aged lady at the beginning of the last century, and several old people still alive remember of the joists and window-frames being entire. A more interesting legend exists, of which the purport is, that there was once a human skull within this tower, possessed of the miraculous faculty of self-motion to such a degree, that, if taken away to any distance, it was always sure to have found its way back to its post by the next morning.[74] This may perhaps remind the reader of the strange journeys performed by the “black volume” in the Monastery, whose rambling disposition was such a source of terror and amazement to the monks of St. Mary’s.
CHAPTER XI.
The Romances.
MATCH OF ARCHERY AT ASHBY.
“IVANHOE.”
he match in which the yeoman Locksley overcomes all the antagonists whom Prince John brings up against him, finds a parallel, and indeed we may say foundation, in the ballad of “Adam Bell, Clym o’ the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslea.” The story of the ballad bears, that these three “perilous outlaws,” having wrought great devastation among the “foresters of the fee” and liege burghers of Carlisle, while in the act of rescuing one of their companions from prison, “fure up to London Town” to crave of their Sovereign a charter of peace. This, by the intercession of the Queen, he grants them; but no sooner is the royal word passed for their pardon, than messengers arrive from the “North Countrye,” with the tidings of the deadly havoc. The King happens to be quietly engaged in eating his dinner at the time, and is completely thunderstruck at the intelligence, so that,—
“Take up the table,” then said he,
“For I can eat no mo’.”