Alas! that e'er thou raised'st thine eyes,
Thine eyes to look on me.—P. [261]. v. 5.
The idea of Lord Soulis' familiar seems to be derived from the curious story of the spirit Orthone and the lord of Corasse, which, I think, the reader will be pleased to see, in all its Gothic simplicity, as translated from Froissart, by the lord of Berners.
"It is great marveyle to consyder one thynge, the whiche was shewed to me in the earl of Foix house at Ortayse, of hym that enfourmed me of the busynesse at Juberothe (Aljubarota, where the Spaniards, with their French allies, were defeated by the Portugueze, A.D. 1385). He showed me one thyng that I have oftentymes thought on sithe, and shall do as longe as I live. As thys squyer told me that of trouthe the next day after the battayl was thus fought, at Juberoth, the erle of Foiz knewe it, whereof I had gret marveyle; for the said Sonday, Monday, and Tuesday, the erle was very pensyf, and so sadde of chere, that no man could have a worde of hym. And all the same three days he wold nat issue out of his chambre, nor speke to any man, though they were never so nere about hym. And, on the Tuesday night, he called to him his brother Arnault Guyllyam, and sayd to hym, with a soft voice, 'Our men hath had to do, whereof I am sorrie; for it is come of them, by their voyage, as I sayd or they departed.' Arnault Guyllyam, who was a sage knight, and knewe right well his brother's condicions (i.e. temper), stode still and gave none answere. And than the erle, who thought to declare his mind more plainlye, for long he had borne the trouble thereof in his herte, spake agayn more higher than he dyd before, and sayd, 'By God, Sir Arnault, it is as I saye, and shortely ye shall here tidynges thereof; but the countrey of Byerne, this hundred yere, never lost such a losse, at no journey, as they have done now in Portugal.'—Dyvers knyghtes and squyers, that were there present, and herde hym say so, stode styll, and durst nat speke, but they remembered his wordes. And within a ten days after, they knewe the trouthe thereof, by such as had been at the busynesse, and there they shewed every thinge as it was fortuned at Juberoth. Than the erle renewed agayn his dolour, and all the countreye were in sorrowe, for they had lost their parentes, brethren, chyldren, and frendes. 'Saint Mary!' quod I to the squyer that shewed me thys tale, 'how is it, that the earl of Foiz could know, on one daye, what was done, within a day or two before, beyng so farre off?'—'By my faythe, Sir,' quod he, 'as it appeared well, he knewe it.'—Than he is a diviner,' quod I, 'or els he hath messangers, that flyethe with the wynde, or he must needs have some craft.' The squyer began to laugh, and sayd, "Surely he must know it, by some art of negromansye or otherwyse. To saye the trouthe, we cannot tell how it is, but by our ymaginacions.'—'Sir,' quod I, 'suche ymaginacions as ye have therein, if it please you to shew me, I wold be gladde therof; and if it be suche a thynge as ought to be secrete, I shall nat publysshe it, nor as long as I am in thys countrey I shall never speke worde thereof.'—'I praye you therof,' quod the squyer, 'for I wolde nat it shulde be knowen, that I shulde speke thereof. But I shall shewe you, as dyvers men speketh secretelye, whan they be togyder as frendes.' Than he drew me aparte into a corner of the chapell at Ortayse, and then began his tale, and sayd:
"It is well a twenty yeares paste, that there was, in this countre, a barone, called Raymond, lorde of Corasse, whyche is a sevyn leagues from this towne of Ortayse. Thys lord of Corasse had that same tyme, a plee at Avygnon before the Pope, for the dysmes (i.e. tithes) of his churche, against a clerk, curate there; the whiche priest was of Catelogne. He was a grete clerk, and claymed to have ryghte of the dysmes, in the towne of Corasse, which was valued to a hundred florens by the yere, and the ryghte that he had, he shewed and proved it; and, by sentence diffynitive, Pope Urbane the fythe, in consistory generall, condempned the knighte, and gave judgement wyth the preest, and of this last judgment he had letters of the Pope, for his possession, and so rode tyll he came into Berne, and there shewed his letters and bulles of the Popes for his possession of his dysmes. The lord of Corasse had gret indignacion at this preest, and came to hym, and said, 'Maister Pers, or Maister Martin (as his name was) thinkest thou, that by reason of thy letters I will lose mine herytage—be nat so hardy, that thou take any thynge that is myne; if thou do, it shall cost thee thy life. Go thy waye into some other place to get thee a benefyce, for of myne herytage thou gettest no parte, and ones for alwayes, I defende thee.' The clerk douted the knight, for he was a cruell man, therefore he durst nat parceyver.—Than he thoughte to return to Avignon, as he dyde; but, whan he departed, he came to the knight, the lord of Corasse, and sayd, 'Sir, by force, and nat by ryght, ye take away from me the ryght of my churche, wherein you greatly hurt your conscience.—I am not so strong in this countrey as ye be; but, sir, knowe, for trouthe, that as soon as I maye, I shall sende to you suche a champyon, whom ye shall doubte more than me.' The knight, who doubted nothyng his thretynges, said, 'God be with thee; do what thou mayst; I doute no more dethe than lyfe; for all thy wordes, I wyll not lese mine herytage.' Thus, the clerk departed from the lord of Corasse, and went I cannot tell wheder to Avygnon or into Catalogne, and forgat nat the promise that he had made to the lord of Corasse or he departed. For whan the knight thoughte leest on hym, about a three monethes after, as the knyght laye on a nyght a-bedde in his castelle of Corasse, with the lady, there came to hym messangers invisible, and made a marvellous tempest and noise in the castell, that it seemed as thoughe the castell shulde have fallen downe, and strak gret strokes at his chambre dore, that the goode ladye, his wife, was soore afrayde. The knight herd alle, but he spoke no word thereof; bycause he wolde shewe no abasshed corage, for he was hardy to abyde all adventures. Thys noyse and tempest was in sundry places of the castell, and dured a long space, and, at length, cessed for that nyght. Than the nexte mornyng, all the servants of the house came to the lord, whan he was risen, and sayd, 'Sir, have you nat herde this night, that we have done?' The lord dissembled, and sayd, 'No! I herd nothyng—what have you herde?' Than they shewed him what noyse they hadde herde, and howe alle the vessel in the kechyn was overtowrned. Than the lord began to laugh, and sayd, 'Yea, sirs! ye dremed, it was nothynge but the wynde.'—'In the name of God!' quod the ladye, 'I herde it well.' The next nyght there was as great noyse and greatter, and suche strokes gyven at his chambre dore and windows, as alle shulde have broken in pieces. The knyghte starte up out of his bedde, and wolde not lette, to demaunde who was at his chambre dore that tyme of the nyght; and anone he was answered by a voyce that sayd, 'I am here.' Quod the knyght, 'Who sent thee hyder?'—'The clerk of Catelogne sent me hyder,' quod the voice, 'to whom thou dost gret wronge, for thou hast taken from hym the ryghtes of his benefyce; I will nat leave thee in rest tylle thou haste made hym a good accompte, so that he be pleased.' Quod the knight, 'What is thy name, that thou art so good a messangere?' Quod he, 'I am called Orthone.'—'Orthone!' quod the knight, 'the servyce of a clerke is lytell profyte for thee. He will putte thee to moche payne if thou beleve hym. I pray thee leave hym, and come and serve me; and I shall give thee goode thanke.' Orthone was redy to aunswere, for he was inamours with the knyghte, and sayde, 'Woldest thou fayne have my servyce?'—'Yea, truly,' quod the knyghte, 'so thou do no hurte to any persone in this house.'—'No more I will do,' quod Orthone, 'for I have no power to do any other yvell, but to awake thee out of thy slepe, or some other.'—'Well,' quod the knyght, 'do as I telle thee, and we shall soone agree, and leave the yvill clerke, for there is no good thyng in him, but to put thee to payne; therefore, come and serve me.'—'Well,' quod Orthone, 'and sythe thou wilt have me, we are agreed.'
"So this spyrite Orthone loved so the knight, that oftentymes he wold come and vysyte hym, while he lay in his bedde aslepe, and outher pull him by the eare, or els stryke at his chambre dore or windowe. And, whan the knyght awoke, than he wolde saye, 'Orthone, lat me slepe.'—'Nay,' quod Orthone, 'that will I nat do, tyll I have shewed thee such tydinges as are fallen a-late.' The ladye, the knyghtes wyfe, wolde be sore afrayed, that her heer wald stand up, and hyde herself under the clothes. Than the knyght wolde saye, 'Why, what tidynges hast thou brought me?'—Quod Orthone, 'I am come out of England, or out of Hungry, or some other place, and yesterday I came hens, and such things are fallen, or such other.' So thus the lord of Corasse knewe, by Orthone, every thing that was done in any part of the worlde. And in this case he contynued a fyve yere, and could not kepe his own counsayle, but at last discovered it to the Erle of Foiz. I shall shewe you howe.
"The firste yere, the lord of Corasse came on a day to Ortayse, to the Erle of Foiz, and sayd to him, 'Sir, such things are done in England, or in Scotland, or in Almagne, or in any other countrey.' And ever the Erle of Foiz found his sayeing true, and had great marveyle how he shulde knowe such things so shortly. And, on a tyme the Erle of Foiz examined him so straitly, that the lord of Corasse shewed hym alle toguyder howe he knewe it, and howe he came to hym firste. When the Erle of Foiz hard that, he was joyfull, and said, Sir of Corasse, kepe him well in your love; I wolde I hadd suche an messanger; he costeth you nothyng, and ye knowe by him every thynge that is done in the worlde.' The knyght answered, and sayd, 'Sir, that is true.' Thus, the lord of Corasse was served with Orthone a long season. I can nat saye if this Orthone hadde any more masters or nat; but every weke, twise or thrisse, he wolde come and vysite the lord of Corasse, and wolde shewe hym such tidyngs of any thing that was fallen fro whens he came. And ever the lord of Corasse, when he knewe any thynge, he wrote thereof to the Erle of Foiz, who had great joy thereof; for he was the lord, of all the worlde, that most desyred to here news out of straunge places. And, on a tyme, the lord of Corasse was wyth the Erle of Foiz, and the erle demaunded of hym, and sayd, 'Sir of Corasse, dyd ye ever as yet se your messengere?'—'Nay, surely, sir,' quod the knyghte, 'nor I never desyred it.'—'That is marveyle,' quod the erle; 'if I were as well acquainted with him as ye be, I wolde have desyred to have sene hym; wherefore, I pray you, desyre it of hym, and then telle me what form and facyon he is of. I have herd you say howe he speketh as good Gascon as outher you or I.'—'Truely, sir,' quod the knyght, 'so it is: he speketh as well, and as fayr, as any of us both do. And surely, sir, sithe ye counsayle me, I shall do my payne to see him as I can.' And so, on a night, as he lay in his bedde, with the ladye his wife, who was so inured to here Orthone, that she was no longer afrayd of him; than cam Orthone, and pulled the lord by the eare, who was fast asleep, and therewith he awoke, and asked who was there? 'I am here,' quod Orthone. Then he demaunded, 'From whens comest thou nowe?'—'I come,' quod Orthone, 'from Prague, in Eoesme.'—'How farre is that hens?' quod the knyght. 'A threescore days journey,' quod Orthone. 'And art thou come hens so soon?' quod the knyght. 'Yea truely,' quod Orthone, 'I come as fast as the wynde, or faster.'—'Hast thou than winges?' quod the knyght. 'Nay, truely,' quod he. 'How canst thou than flye so fast?' quod the knyght. 'Ye have nothing to do to knowe that,' quod Orthone. 'No?' quod the knyght, 'I wolde gladly se thee, to know what forme thou art of.'—'Well,' quod Orthone, 'ye have nothing to do to knowe: it sufficeth you to here me, and to shewe you tidynges.'—'In faythe,' quod the knyght, 'I wolde love the moche better an I myght se thee ones.'—'Well,' quod Orthone, 'sir, sithe ye have so gret desyre to se me, the first thynge that ye se to-morrowe, whan ye ryse out of your bedde, the same shall be I.'—'That is sufficient,' quod the lorde. 'Go thy way; I gyve thee leave to departe for this nyght.' And the next mornynge the lord rose, and the ladye his wyfe was so afrayd, that she durst not ryse, but fayned herself sicke, and sayd she wolde not ryse. Her husband wolde have had her to have rysen. 'Sir,' quod she, 'than shall I se Orthone, and I wolde not se him by my gode wille.'—'Well,' quod the knyght, 'I wolde gladly se hym.' And so he arose, fayre and easily, out of his bedde, and sat down on his bedde-syde, wenying to have sene Orthone in his owne proper form; but he sawe nothynge wherbye he myght saye, 'Lo, yonder is Orthone.' So that day past, and the next night came, and when the knyght was in his bedde, Orthone came, and began to speke, as he was accustomed. 'Go thy waye,' quod the knyght, 'thou arte but a lyer; thou promysest that I shuld have sene the, and it was not so.'—'No?' quod he, 'and I shewed myself to the.'—'That is not so,' quod the lord. 'Why,' quod Orthone, 'whan ye rose out of your bedde, sawe ye nothynge?' Than the lorde studyed a lytell, and advysed himself well. 'Yes, truely,' quod the knyght, 'now I remember me, as I sate on my bedde-syde, thynking on thee, I sawe two strawes upon the pavement, tumblynge one upon another.'—'That same was I,' quod Orthone, 'into that fourme I dyd putte myself as than.'—'That is not enough to me,' quod the lord; 'I pray thee putte thyselfe into same other fourme, that I may better se and knowe thee.'—'Well,' quod Orthone, 'ye will do so muche, that ye will lose me, and I to go fro you, for ye desyre to moch of me.'—'Nay,' quod the knyght, 'thou shalt not go fro me, let me se thee ones, and I will desyre no more.'—'Well,' quod Orthone, 'ye shall se me to-morrowe; take hede, the first thyng that ye se after ye be out of your chamber, it shall be I.'—'Well,' quod the knyght, 'I am then content. Go thy way, lette me slepe.' And so Orthone departed, and the next mornyng the lord arose, and yssued oute of his chambre, and wente to a windowe, and looked downe into the courte of the castell, and cast about his eyen. And the firste thyng he sawe was a sowe, the greattest that ever he sawe; and she seemed to be so leane and yvell-favoured, that there was nothyng on her but the skynne, and the bones, with long eares, and a long leane snout. The lord of Corasse had marveyle of that leane sowe, and was wery of the sighte of her, and comaunded his men to fetch his houndes, and sayd, 'Let the dogges hunt her to dethe, and devour her.' His servaunts opened the kenells, and lette oute his houndes, and dyd sette them on this sowe. And, at the last, the sowe made a great crye, and looked up to the lord of Corasse as he looked out at a windowe, and so sodaynely vanyshed awaye, no man wyste howe. Than the lord of Corasse entred into his chambre, right pensyve, and than he remembered hym of Orthone, his messangere, and sayd, 'I repent me that I set my houndes on him. It is an adventure, an I here any more of hym; for he sayd to me oftentymes, that if I displeased hym, I shulde lose hym.' The lord sayd trouthe, for never after he came into the castell of Corasse, and also the knyght dyed the same yere next followinge."
"So, sir," said the squyer, "thus have I shewed you the lyfe of Orthone, and howe, for a season, he served the lord of Corasse with newe tidynges."—"It is true, sir," sayd I, "but nowe, as to your firste purpose. Is the Earl of Foiz served with suche an messangere?"—"Surely," quod the squyer, it is the ymaginacion of many, that he hath such messengers, for ther is nothynge done in any place, but and he sette his mynde thereto, he will knowe it, and whan men thynke leest thereof. And so dyd he, when the goode knightes and squyers of this country were slayne in Portugale at Juberothe. Some saythe, the knowledge of such thynges hath done hym moche profyte, for and there be but the value of a spone lost in his house, anone he will know where it is.' So, thus, then I toke leave of the squyer, and went to other company; but I bare well away his tale."—Bourchier's Translation of Froissart's Chronycle, Vol. II. chap. 37.
He took the keys from the rusty lock,
That never was ta'en before.
He threw them o'er his left shoulder,
With mickle care and pain;
And he bade it keep them, fathoms deep,
Till he returned again.—P. [262], v. 1. 2.
The circumstance of Lord Soulis having thrown the key over his left shoulder, and bid the fiend keep it till his return, is noted in the introduction, as a part of his traditionary history. In the course of this autumn (1806), the Earl of Dalkeith being encamped near the Hermitage Castle, for the amusement of shooting, directed some workmen to clear away the rubbish from the door of the dungeon, in order to ascertain its ancient dimensions and architecture. To the great astonishment of the labourers, and of the country people who were watching their proceedings, a rusty iron key, of considerable size, was found among the ruins, a little way from the dungeon door. The well-known tradition instantly passed from one to another; and it was generally agreed, that the malevolent dæmon, who had so long retained possession of the key of the castle, now found himself obliged to resign it to the heir-apparent of the domain. In the course of their researches, a large iron ladle, somewhat resembling that used by plumbers, was also discovered; and both the reliques are now in Lord Dalkeith's possession.
In the summer of 1805, another discovery was made in the haunted ruins of Hermitage. In a recess of the wall of the castle, intended apparently for receiving the end of a beam or joist, a boy, seeking for birds nests, found a very curious antique silver-ring, embossed with hearts, the well-known cognisance of the Douglas family, placed interchangeably with quatre-foils all round the circle. The workmanship has an uncommonly rude and ancient appearance, and warrants our believing that it may have belonged to one of the Earls of Angus, who carried the heart and quatre-foils[76] in their arms. They parted with the castle and lordship of Liddesdale, in exchange for that of Bothwell, in the beginning of the 16th century. This ring is now in the editor's possession, by the obliging gift of Mr John Ballantyne, of the house of Ballantyne and Company, so distinguished for typography.