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Border Battles and Battlefields.

BY JAMES ROBSON. Author of "Churches and Churchyards of Teviotdale," etc. BATTLE OF HOMILDON HILL (Concluded).

Fought 14th September, 1402.

AD Douglas followed the example of Bruce at Bannockburn, and, with his whole force of cavalry, which amounted to about 1,000, charged the English archers on the plain below, the probability is that the Scots would have swept everything before them. As As it was, however, he remained passive; for what reason has never yet been sufficiently explained.

passive inactivity exclaimed :-"O my brave countrymen! what fascination has seized you to-day, that you stand like deer to be shot, instead of indulging your ancient courage, and meeting your enemies hand to hand? Are we to be still, and have our hands nailed to our lances ? Let those who will, descend with me, that we may gain victory, or life, or fall like men." Having thus spoken he was about to gallop down the hill towards the enemy with a body of horsemen, when body of horsemen, when a singular event occurred, which, for the moment, stopped his progress. It would seem that, for a long time, a deadly feud had existed between Swinton and

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Indeed, it is doubtful if he himself, at that moment, realised the gravity of the situation. As one authority aptly-though perhaps rather flippantly puts it, he seems to have lost his head," so unlike the characteristic impetuosity of a Douglas.

An episode, romantic as well as chivalric, took place at this stage. There was need for a spark from the fiery soul of a Wallace or a Bruce to flash across the tardy and irresolute throng, and wake up something of the old enthusiasm which was wont to strike terror into the Southern ranks. A brave knight, Sir John Swinton, deploring the fearful slaughter of his countrymen and their

W. Green, Berwick on-Tweed.

a Scottish knight, Sir Adam de Gordon. The latter was so deeply moved by the intrepidity and daring of Swinton in thus seeking by his own brilliant example to retrieve the fortunes of the day, that he bowed in submission before him. Gordon threw himself from his horse, and kneeling at the feet of Swinton, begged his forgiveness for the wrong he had cherished against him. He craved also the honour of being knighted on the spot at the hands of so brave a chieftain. Swinton, nothing loath, instantly consented. Dismounting, he conferred upon Gordon the honour he had so earnestly implored and afterwards embraced him.

Then

the two warriors remounted, and, with their followers, forming a body of about a hundred horse, rushed down the hill. They made a desperate attack upon the enemy, slaughtering a great number. For a brief moment the English were slightly confused by the shock. But the handful of Scots were no match for the thousands of steady, well disciplined bowmen, who, till then, had not a gap in their ranks.

Had Douglas, with his whole body of Scottish horse, but followed the example of Swinton and Gordon, and seconded their effort to disperse the English archers by charging unitedly, and as one body, the result of that day might have proved less disastrous to themselves by checking the English advance, if indeed, it had not succeeded in changing defeat into victory. As it was, not being immediately supported by the general body of Scottish horse, Swinton and Gordon were slain, and their followers cut down almost to a man.

After some delay, and not until the Scottish cavalry had reached a state of almost hopeless confusion and disorder, Douglas charged down the hill. But alas it was now too late, Swinton's charge had already been repulsed by the English, and those who were not slain were flying in helpless despair from the unequal strife. These, mingling with the advancing columns of Scottish horse, threw the latter into still greater confusion. When Douglas advanced, the English archers, keeping their ranks, fell back in perfect order towards their own cavalry, all the while pouring volley after volley upon the confused mass of approaching horsemen. Scottish ranks were being rapidly thinned while the English cavalry, on the height above, were fresh, and their ranks unbroken. The latter had not as yet struck a single blow. They had remained eye witnesses of the terrible havoc which their own archers had made, and it now seemed to them as if they had little more to do than remain mere spectators of the utter rout which now seemed the inevitable fate of the well equipped Scottish horse.

The

The advance of Douglas was followed by a terrible carnage. Before they could reach the enemy they were reduced to a state of utter confusion, their action so unconnected as almost to neutralize the force of the attack. Their discomfiture was therefore complete before the English horse could reach them. Broken and scattered, they flew in all directions. Riderless Riderless steeds tore wildly across the plain. Groans and cries of agony sounded strangely as they mingled with the stern command of the English leaders to follow up the fugitives and complete the work of destruction and disgrace, which they

deemed to be the simple deserts of the Scottish raiders for the havoc they had made in plundering their country and robbing their people.

Earl Douglas was wounded in five different places and lost an eye. This proves the deadly nature of the English shaft, since we are assured that Douglas's armour was the best that could be had, being of the most exquisite workmanship, and having cost the artisan who made it three years' labour. There were taken prisoners, besides Douglas, Lord Murdoch Stewart, and the Earls of Moray and Angus. The fugitives were hotly pursued, many being cut down by the elated victors.

The pursuit must have been carried on for a long distance, as 500 of the Scots, in a vain attempt to cross the Tweed, were drowned. The nearest point of the river to Homildon Hill is thirteen miles. We can thus imagine the state of those who, having been closely pursued for over a dozen miles, found themselves obliged to choose one or other of two alternativesdeath by the English steel or a watery grave; in either case, a fate too bitter to contemplate. The thought of their comrades weltering in their blood on the slopes of Homildon Hill but reminded them that if they had escaped one doom they were now about to encounter another scarcely less aggravating. Their bodies were

borne rapidly down by the strong current, the surface of the stream presenting one dense, moving mass of human bodies.

Scotland never was so impotent as on this occasion. Everything was sacrificed to the idle whim of an irresolute and capricious leader. The name of Douglas was sullied, for on him alone rests the odium of that day's disaster.

A large number of the best blood of Scotland perished on the field. Amongst them, besides Swinton and Gordon, were Sir John Levingston of Callander, Sir Alexander Ramsay of Dalhousie, Sir Roger Gordon, Sir Walter Scott, and Sir Walter Sinclair. Murdoch, the next in command to Douglas, was, along with the latter, taken prisoner. Besides these were the Earls of Athole, Fife, Monteith, and Orkney, the Lords Erskine and Montgomery, together with eighty knights. On this, as on every other occasion, when they got full play, the archers committed the greatest havoc among the enemy. It has been asserted, indeed, by some of the best authorities, that the victory was won without a blow having been struck by the knights or men

at-arms.

Sir Henry Percy disgraced the victory by an act of cruelty in his treatment of one of the prisoners, a circumstance so closely connected with the battle as to warrant a brief notice here.

The district of Teviotdale had remained in the partial possession of the English during the greater part of Edward III.'s reign, and the Percy family had, in consequence, acquired large possessions. Subsequently these possessions had been effectually wrested from them by the bravery of the Douglases. It so happened that, amongst the prisoners, was Sir William Stewart, of Forest, a knight of Teviotdale, who was a mere boy at the time the district became "Anglicised." Like many others, he had been compelled to own a virtual allegiance to England. He was too young to be able to understand the meaning or obligation involved in such a transaction. On the miserable pretext that he had proved false to his allegiance, Hotspur accused him of treason, and had him tried by a jury. The case against him was so shallow and absurd, that he was acquitted. Percy, however, was not to be thus outdone. Furious at the verdict of the first juy he impinelled another who again acquitted him. The old feudal spirit of revenge was aroused. He packed and overawed a third jury, whose sentence condemned Sir William Stewart to die the death of a traitor. He wa immediately executed and his body quartered.

The sanguinary nature of this battle may be gathered from the name "Redriggs," given to the field in which most of the fighting was done. Marking the spot, where it is understood many of the soldiers were buried, is a huge stone, the only memorial of the battle.

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was a lonely spot near Aleluyd, the modern Dumbarton, where he was wont to pass thirty or forty days in holy contemplation, and where he finally spent the latter days of his life.

The further history of this early establishment is lost in obscurity, and the next we hear is of the founding of a monastery on the same spot in 1150, the ruins of which, now remain. The members of the convent were canons of the Premonstratensian or Augustinian order, brought from a recently founded abbey at Alnwick. From the colour of their dress, they were usually called white Canons. They were poor at first, and lived by their labours, but by subsequent benefactions became rich. They passed their lives in religious exercises, cultivating their fields. copying books and reading. Their devotions were performed seven times a day. At one they dined in the great hall, during the meal, one of their number reading from the Holy Scriptures, or some other edifying book. They took in turns, the duty of waiting on each other at table. Only two dishes were allowed, except on particular occasions, when another called a pittance, consisting of some sweet or delicate food was added. Those who were late for the meal, without good excuse, had to repeat a Paternoster and Ave Maria, by way of penance, and took their places at the bottom of the least frequented table, no ale or wine being allowed them without permission of the abbot or president. Sheets or linen were not permitted except in cases of sickness, and they all slept in their usual clothes, a practice hardly consistent with the precept that cleanliness is next to Godliness. At the time of hay-making and harvest, they were busy in the fields, but were bound to recite their prayers at the canonical hours.

Edward II. of England on his return from an unsuccessful invasion of Scotland set fire to the monastery and razed it to the ground. Tradition says the English were enraged at the convent bells pealing joyfully on their discomfitted departure, and in revenge returned, and committed the sacrilegious deed.

Not many years subsequent to this, certain flagrant disorders arose in the monastery. Strife ending in blows was frequent among the brethren, because of the breach of the rule of their order, regarding the possession of private property, and the admission to holy orders of those who lay under censure. For these offences they had been cut off from communion with the church. To obtain absolution, a pilgrimage to Rome would have been necessary, but the long journey, and the danger of the pilgrims falling into irregularities formed difficulties. These

were represented to Pope Gregory, who gave power to the abbot of Dryburgh to absolve the less guilty, but the greater offenders had still to seek forgiveness and absolution from the Holy See.

The abbey and monastery were again burned by King Richard II. in 1385, on the retreat with his army from Scotland.

The abbots of Dryburgh seem to have been much connected with affairs of state, for we find Andrew Foreman superior of Dryburgh taking part in the negotiations for the marriage of James IV. of Scotland with Margaret of England in 1501. Again, John Ogilvie in 1512

a feud respecting their right to some of the abbey lands. It was settled by the king's arbitration, after some years, that the Haliburtons should enjoy the lands, but be good servants to the abbot, as were their predecessors. This pacification was sealed by the marriage of the abbot's daughter to Walter, eldest son of David Haliburton. Elizabeth their daughter, being an only child, and her father's heir, the Haliburtons determined she should marry one of her cousins to keep the property in the clan, This did not suit the views of the abbot, who carried off by force the intended bride, and married her to Alexander Erskine, a relation and follower of

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conducted from France two ships, laden with artillery, military stores, and wines, a present from Anne the Queen of France to the King of Scots.

A certain James Stewart, formerly a layman, was appointed abbot in 1528, by special application to the Pope, on condition of his joining the Augustinian Order. The abbey had suffered much during the Border troubles in the early part of the 16th century, and Stewart was considered the fittest man to restore the shattered fortunes of the convent, repair the fabric of the abbey, and again set up the worship of God as before. Unfortunately between Stewart and the family of Haliburton of Mertoun, there was

Jas. Crichton, Edinburgh.

his own. The feud thus revived only ended with the dissolution of the abbey.

Fire again was a destructive agent at Dryburgh, for we read of the English once more destroying the town and conventual buildings all but the church, and taking a great quantity of plunder with them. In return we find the abbot of Dryburgh crossing the Tweed into Northumberland, and burning the village of Horncliffe with all the corn in it, till he suffered repulse from the garrisons of Norham and Berwick.

The Reformation soon played havoc with Dryburgh and the revenues were annexed to the crown in 1587.

There is one story connected with Dryburgh Abbey told by Sir Walter Scott, which is given in his own words. Soon after the hapless '45, "an unfortunate female wanderer took up her residence in a dark vault among the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey, which during the day, she never quitted. When night fell, she issued from this miserable habitation, and went to the house of Mr. Haliburton of Newmains, or to that of Mr. Erskine of Shielfield, two gentlemen of the neighbourhood. From their charity, she obtained such necessaries, as she could be prevailed on to accept. At twelve each night, she lighted her candle, and returned to her vault, assuring her friendly neighbours, that during her absence, her habitation was arranged by a spirit, to whom she gave the uncouth name of Fatlips; describing him as a little man, wearing heavy iron shoes, with which he trampled the clay floor of the vault to dispel the damps. This circumstance caused her to be regarded by the well informed with compassion, as deranged in her understanding; and by the vulgar with some degree of terror. The cause of her adopting this extraordinary mode of life she never would explain. It was, however, believed to have been occasioned by a vow, that during the absence of a man, to whom she was attached, she would never again look upon the sun. Her lover never returned. He fell during the Civil War of 1745-6, and she never more would behold the light of day."

One fact will never be forgotten of Dryburgh ; that within the sacred precincts lie the remains of him who brought to life the historic past in his incomparable romances, and whose memory more than any of the old monastic traditions makes the abbey a hallowed shrine for the modern pilgrim.

(The next and concluding article of the
series will be Kelso).

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Borderland. Now the vale of Tweed is practically synonymous with this Borderland. For many centuries it was the dividing point between two hostile kingdoms now happily one in government and in brotherhood. The very word signifies "that which lies on a boundary,” and as such it must have been in use long before the partition of the island into England and Scotland. Arising from this barrier-line as a natural outcome, were the constantly recurring feuds and forays among the Border clans, the story of which, together with much that may be of fictitious origin, has been to a large extent preserved in the many-sided ballad literature of the Border country. Added to all this, the men and women whose lives were passed by the banks of Tweed were by no means free from that strongly superstitious spirit which characterised the inhabitants of remoter districts. They had a firm belief in witchcraft, and in fairy tale. For the unseen powers which were supposed to cast an uncanny glamour around every spot where human foot might tread, they had the profoundest awe and reverence. Yet, withal, they were brave and heroic, possessed of a keen patriotism, while the kindlier touches were not lacking. But the main feature that has wound itself around the vale of Tweed is the reigning spirit of romance. From source to sea there is scarcely a single spot on its banks but is laden with historic and romantic association. Scottish literature and Scottish history are shrined in the silver Tweed. The Magician of the North has waved his wand along every league of its course, and peopled its windings with the heroes and heroines who are to-day the priceless possession of all lands. And, as a matter of history, it is enough to say, that fair Tweedside, blooming under the peaceful sway of Nature, and undisturbed by the alarms of war or party strife, has, nevertheless, borne a sad but bold witness to its title of the "battle field of Britain.” If the castles and "keeps," most of them in ruins that frown down on the long stretch of Tweed between Berwick and the Beild, could find voice, what a strange tale they might unfold! Every stone that may still be held firm in its place by ivy bands, might add fresh treasure to the nation's historic pile. For these buildings have been at the making of history, and without them the most imperishable of Scottish literature would have remained unwritten.

Away up among the hills of the Southern Highlands, Tweed first catches the light of day. It is an ideal spot. Nature greets you in her sweetest simplicity. You are in a paradise-land of peace. The smoky city is miles distant. No village looms in sight. But one solitary

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