Chapter 1

The village described in the Benedictine's manuscript by the name of

Kennaquhair, bears the same Celtic termination which occurs in

Traquhair, Caquhair, and other compounds. The learned Chalmers derives

this word Quhair, from the winding course of a stream; a definition

which coincides, in a remarkable degree, with the serpentine turns of

the river Tweed near the village of which we speak. It has been long

famous for the splendid Monastery of Saint Mary, founded by David the

First of Scotland, in whose reign were formed, in the same county, the

no less splendid establishments of Melrose, Jedburgh, and Kelso. The

donations of land with which the King endowed these wealthy

fraternities procured him from the Monkish historians the epithet of

Saint, and from one of his impoverished descendants the splenetic

censure, "that he had been a sore saint for the Crown."

It seems probable, notwithstanding, that David, who was a wise as well

as a pious monarch, was not moved solely by religious motives to those

great acts of munificence to the church, but annexed political views

to his pious generosity. His possessions in Northumberland and

Cumberland became precarious after the loss of the Battle of the

Standard; and since the comparatively fertile valley of Teviot-dale

was likely to become the frontier of his kingdom, it is probable he

wished to secure at least a part of these valuable possessions by

placing them in the hands of the monks, whose property was for a long

time respected, even amidst the rage of a frontier war. In this manner

alone had the King some chance of ensuring protection and security to

the cultivators of the soil; and, in fact, for several ages the

possessions of these Abbeys were each a sort of Goshen, enjoying the

calm light of peace and immunity, while the rest of the country,

occupied by wild clans and marauding barons, was one dark scene of

confusion, blood, and unremitted outrage.

But these immunities did not continue down to the union of the crowns.

Long before that period the wars betwixt England and Scotland had lost

their original character of international hostilities, and had become

on the part of the English, a struggle for subjugation, on that of the

Scots a desperate and infuriated defence of their liberties. This

introduced on both sides a degree of fury and animosity unknown to the

earlier period of their history; and as religious scruples soon gave

way to national hatred spurred by a love of plunder, the patrimony of

the Church was no longer sacred from incursions on either side. Still,

however, the tenants and vassals of the great Abbeys had many

advantages over those of the lay barons, who were harassed by constant

military duty, until they became desperate, and lost all relish for

the arts of peace. The vassals of the church, on the other hand, were

only liable to be called to arms on general occasions, and at other

times were permitted in comparative quiet to possess their farms and

feus. [Footnote: Small possessions conferred upon vassals and their

heirs, held for a small quit-rent, or a moderate proportion of the

produce. This was a favourite manner, by which the churchmen peopled

the patrimony of their convents; and many descendants of such

_feuars_, as they are culled, are still to be found in possession

of their family inheritances in the neighbourhood of the great

Monasteries of Scotland.] They of course exhibited superior skill in

every thing that related to the cultivation of the soil, and were

therefore both wealthier and better informed than the military

retainers of the restless chiefs and nobles in their neighbourhood.

The residence of these church vassals was usually in a small village

or hamlet, where, for the sake of mutual aid and protection, some

thirty or forty families dwelt together. This was called the Town, and

the land belonging to the various families by whom the Town was

inhabited, was called the Township. They usually possessed the land in

common, though in various proportions, according to their several

grants. The part of the Township properly arable, and kept as such

continually under the plough, was called _in-field_. Here the use

of quantities of manure supplied in some degree the exhaustion of the

soil, and the feuars raised tolerable oats and bear, [Footnote: Or

bigg, a kind of coarse barley.] usually sowed on alternate ridges, on

which the labour of the whole community was bestowed without

distinction, the produce being divided after harvest, agreeably to

their respective interests.

There was, besides, _out-field_ land, from which it was thought

possible to extract a crop now and then, after which it was abandoned

to the "skiey influences," until the exhausted powers of vegetation

were restored. These out-field spots were selected by any feuar at his

own choice, amongst the sheep-walks and hills which were always

annexed to the Township, to serve as pasturage to the community. The

trouble of cultivating these patches of out-field, and the precarious

chance that the crop would pay the labour, were considered as giving

a right to any feuar, who chose to undertake the adventure, to the

produce which might result from it.

There remained the pasturage of extensive moors, where the valleys

often afforded good grass, and upon which the whole cattle belonging

to the community fed indiscriminately during the summer, under the

charge of the Town-herd, who regularly drove them out to pasture in

the morning, and brought them back at night, without which precaution

they would have fallen a speedy prey to some of the Snatchers in the

neighbourhood. These are things to make modern agriculturists hold up

their hands and stare; but the same mode of cultivation is not yet

entirely in desuetude in some distant parts of North Britain, and may

be witnessed in full force and exercise in the Zetland Archipelago.

The habitations of the church-feuars were not less primitive than

their agriculture. In each village or town were several small towers,

having battlements projecting over the side walls, and usually an

advanced angle or two with shot-holes for flanking the door-way, which

was always defended by a strong door of oak, studded with nails, and

often by an exterior grated door of iron. These small peel-houses were

ordinarily inhabited by the principal feuars and their families; but,

upon the alarm of approaching danger, the whole inhabitants thronged

from their own miserable cottages, which were situated around, to

garrison these points of defence. It was then no easy matter for a

hostile party to penetrate into the village, for the men were

habituated to the use of bows and fire-arms, and the towers being

generally so placed, that the discharge from one crossed that of

another, it was impossible to assault any of them individually.

The interior of these houses was usually sufficiently wretched, for it

would have been folly to have furnished them in a manner which could

excite the avarice of their lawless neighbours. Yet the families

themselves exhibited in their appearance a degree of comfort,

information, and independence, which could hardly have been expected.

Their in-field supplied them with bread and home-brewed ale, their

herds and flocks with beef and mutton (the extravagance of killing

lambs or calves was never thought of). Each family killed a mart, or

fat bullock, in November, which was salted up for winter use, to which

the good wife could, upon great occasions, add a dish of pigeons or a

fat capon,--the ill-cultivated garden afforded "lang-cale,"--and the

river gave salmon to serve as a relish during the season of Lent.

Of fuel they had plenty, for the bogs afforded turf; and the remains

of the abused woods continued to give them logs for burning, as well

as timber for the usual domestic purposes. In addition to these

comforts, the good-man would now and then sally forth to the

greenwood, and mark down a buck of season with his gun or his

cross-bow; and the Father Confessor seldom refused him absolution for

the trespass, if duly invited to take his share of the smoking haunch.

Some, still bolder, made, either with their own domestics, or by

associating themselves with the moss-troopers, in the language of

shepherds, "a start and overloup;" and the golden ornaments and silken

head-gear--worn by the females of one or two families of note, were

invidiously traced by their neighbours to such successful excursions.

This, however, was a more inexplicable crime in the eyes of the Abbot

and Community of Saint Mary's, than the borrowing one of the "gude

king's deer;" and they failed not to discountenance and punish, by

every means in their power, offences which were sure to lead to severe

retaliation upon the property of the church, and which tended to alter

the character of their peaceful vassalage.

As for the information possessed by those dependents of the Abbacies,

they might have been truly said to be better fed than taught, even

though their fare had been worse than it was. Still, however, they

enjoyed opportunities of knowledge from which others were excluded.

The monks were in general well acquainted with their vassals and

tenants, and familiar in the families of the better class among them,

where they were sure to be received with the respect due to their

twofold character of spiritual father and secular landlord. Thus it

often happened, when a boy displayed talents and inclination for

study, one of the brethren, with a view to his being bred to the

church, or out of good-nature, in order to pass away his own idle

time, if he had no better motive, initiated him into the mysteries of

reading and writing, and imparted to him such other knowledge as he

himself possessed. And the heads of these allied families, having more

time for reflection, and more skill, as well as stronger motives for

improving their small properties, bore amongst their neighbours the

character of shrewd, intelligent men, who claimed respect on account

of their comparative wealth, even while they were despised for a less

warlike and enterprising turn than the other Borderers. They lived as

much as they well could amongst themselves, avoiding the company of

others, and dreading nothing more than to be involved in the deadly

feuds and ceaseless contentions of the secular landholders.

Such is a general picture of these communities. During the fatal wars

in the commencement of Queen Mary's reign, they had suffered

dreadfully by the hostile invasions. For the English, now a Protestant

people, were so far from sparing the church-lands, that they forayed

them with more unrelenting severity than even the possessions of the

laity. But the peace of 1550 had restored some degree of tranquillity

to those distracted and harassed regions, and matters began again

gradually to settle upon the former footing. The monks repaired their

ravaged shrines--the feuar again roofed his small fortalice which the

enemy had ruined--the poor labourer rebuilt his cottage--an easy task,

where a few sods, stones, and some pieces of wood from the next copse,

furnished all the materials necessary. The cattle, lastly, were driven

out of the wastes and thickets in which the remnant of them had been

secreted; and the mighty bull moved at the head of his seraglio and

their followers, to take possession of their wonted pastures. There

ensued peace and quiet, the state of the age and nation considered, to

the Monastery of Saint Mary, and its dependencies, for several

tranquil years.