fairly hummed with pleasure and excitement. Yet with such inflammable material, do you wonder that the meeting ended now and again in most admired disorder? One famous fray (17th June, 1575) is commemorated in “The Raid of the Reidswire," a ballad setting forth many features of a Day of Truce. For our Bill of Complaint, it might be tried in more than one way. It might be by "the honor of the warden," who often had knowledge of the case, personal or acquired, and felt competent to decide the matter off-hand. On his first appearance he had taken an oath (yearly renewed) in presence of the opposite warden and the whole assemblage to do justice, and he now officially "fyled" or "cleared the bill" (as the technical phrase ran) by writing on it the words: "Foull (or 'Clear'), as I am verily persuaded upon my conscience and honor”-a deliverance recalling the method wherein individual peers give their voice at a trial of one of their order. This did not of necessity end the matter; for the complainant could present a new bill and get the verdict of a jury thereon, which also was the proper tribunal where the warden declined to interfere. It was thus chosen: The English warden named and swore in six Scots, the Scots did the like to six Englishmen. The oath ran in these terms: "Yea shall cleane noe bill worthie to be fild, yea shall file no bill worthie to be cleaned," and so forth. Warden sergeants were appointed who led the jury to a retired place; the bills were presented; and the jurymen fell to work. It would seem that they did so in two sections, each considering complaints against its own nationality. If the bill was "fyled," the word "foull" was written upon it (of course, a verdict of guilty); but how to get such a verdict under such conditions? The assize had more than a fellow-feeling for the culprit; like the jury in Ayton's story, they might think that Flodden (then no distant memory) was not yet avenged. There were divers expedients to this end. Commissioners were sometimes appointed by the two crowns to solve a difficulty a warden court had failed to adjust. Again, it was strangely provided that "If the accused be not quitt by the oathe of the assize it is a conviction." One very stubborn jury (temp. 1596) sat for a day, a night, and a day on end, “almost to its undoeinge." The warden enraged at such conduct, yet fearing for the men's lives, needs must discharge them. I ought to mention an alleged third mode of trial by Vower, who, says Sir Walter Scott, was an umpire to whom the dispute was referred. Rather was he a witness of the accused's own nation. Some held such evidence essential to conviction; for, if honest, it was practically conclusive. Well! Suppose the case too clear and the man too friendless, and the jury "fyled" the bill. If the offence were capital, the prisoner was held in safe custody, and was hanged or beheaded as soon as possible. Eut most affairs were not capital. Thus the Border law forbad hunting in the other kingdom, without the express leave of the owner of the soil. Just such an unlicensed hunting is the theme of "Chevy Chase." Thus: The Percy, owt of Northumberland, The Douglas took a summary mode of redress, where a later and tamer owner had lodged his bill. In a common case or theft, if the offender were not present (the jury would seem to have tried cases in absence), the warden must produce him the next Day of Truce. Indeed, whilst the jury was deliberating, the officials were going over the bills "filed" on the last day, and handing over each culprit to the opposite warden; or sureties were given for him; or the warden delivered his servant as pledge. If the pledge died, the body was carried to the next warden court. The guilty party, being delivered up. must make restitution within forty days, or suffer death, whilst aggravated cases of "lifting" were declared capital. In practice a man taken in fight or otherwise was rarely put to death. Captive and captor amicably discussed the question of ransom. That fixed, the captive was allowed to raise it; if he failed, he honorably surrendered. The amount of restitution was the "Double and Salffye," to wit, three times the value of the original goods, two parts being recompense, and the third costs or expenses. Need I say that this triple return was too much for Border honesty? Sham claims were made, and these, for that they obliged the wardens "to speire and search for the thing that never was done," were rightly deemed a great nuisance. As the bills were sworn to, each false charge involved perjury; and in 1553 it was provided that such rascal claimants should be delivered over to the tender mercies of the opposite warden. Moreover, a genuine bill might be grossly exaggerated (Are claims against insurance and railway companies always urged with accuracy of detail?); where, if it were disputed, the value was determined by a mixed jury of Borderers. I have had occasion to refer to Border faith. In 1569, the Earl of Northumberland was implicated in a rising against Elizabeth. Fleeing north, he took refuge with an Armstrong, Hector of Harelaw, who sold him to the Regent Murray. Harelaw's name became a byword and a reproach. He died despised and neglected; and "to take Hector's cloak" was an imputation of treachery years after the original story had faded. Thus, in Marchland the deadliest insult against a man was to say that he had broken faith. The insult was given in a very formal and deliberate manner, called a Baugle. The aggrieved party procured the glove, or picture, of the traitor, and whenever there was a meeting (a Day of Truce was too favorable an opportunity to be neglected) he gave notice of the breach of faith to friend and foe, with blast of the horn and loud cries. The man insulted must give him the lie in his throat, and a deadly combat ensued. The Laws of the Marches attempted to substitute the remedy by bill; that the matter might not "Goe to the extremyte The of a baughle." or where that was impossible, to fix rules for the thing itself. Or, the wardens were advised to attend, with less than a hundred of retinue, to prevent "Brawling, buklinge, quarrelinge, and bloodshed." Such things were a fruitful source of what a Scots act termed "the heathenish and barbarous custom of Deadly Feud." When one slew his fellow under unfair conditions, the game of revenge went see-sawing on for generations. Border legislators had many ingenious devices to quench such strife. A warden might order a man complained of to sign in solemn form a renunciation of his feud; and if he refused, he was delivered to the opposite warden till he consented. In pre-Reformation days the Church did something by enjoining prayer and pilgrimage. A sum of money (Assythement) now and again settled old scores; or there might be a treaty of peace cemented by marriage. Sometimes, again, there was a fight by permission of the sovereign. (Cf. the parallel case of the clan-duel in "The Fair Maid of Perth.) Still, prearranged single combats, duels in fact, were frequent on the Border. Turner, or Turnie Holme, at the junction of the Kirshope and Liddel, was a favorite spot for them. And now business and pleasure alike are ended, and the day (fraught with anxiety to official minds) is waning fast. Proclamation is made that the multitude may know the matters transacted. Then it is declared that the lord wardens of England and Scotland. and Scotland and England (what tender care for each other's susceptibilities!) appoint the next Day of Truce, which ought not to be more than forty days hence, at such and such a place. Then, with solemn salutations and ponderous interchange of courtesy, each party turns homeward. As noted, the Truce lasted till the next sunrise. As the nations were at peace (else had there been no meeting), this recognized the fact that the Borders were always, more or less, in a state of trouble. Also it prevented people from violently righting themselves forthwith. A curious case. in 1596, where this condition was broken, gave rise to a Border foray of the most exciting kind, commemorated in the famous ballad of "Kinmont Willie." A Day of Truce had been held on the Kershope Burn, and at its conclusion Willie Armstrong of Kinmont, a noted Scots freebooter, rode slowly off, with a few companions. Some taunt, or maybe the mere sight of one who had done them so much wrong, was too much for the English party, and Kinmont was chased, captured, and laid by the heels in Carlisle Castle. Buccleuch was keeper of Liddesdale. He had not been present at the Day of Truce; but when they told him that Kinmont had been seized "between the hours of night and day," he expressed his anger in no uncertain terms: He has ta'en the table wi' his hand, And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Negotiations failing, Buccleuch determined to rescue Kinmont himself. In the darkness of a stormy night he and his men stole up to Carlisle, broke the citadel, rescued Kinmont, and carried him off in safety, whilst the English lawyers were raising ingenious technical justifications (you can read them at length in the collection of Border papers) of the capture. Those same papers show that the ballad gives the main features of the rescue with surprising accuracy. But I cannot linger over its cheerful numbers. The event might once have provoked a war, but the shadow of the union was already cast. James would do nothing to spoil the splendid prize almost within his grasp, and Elizabeth's statesmen were not like to quarrel with their future master. With the death of Elizabeth (1603) came the union of the crowns, and the Scots riders felt their craft in danger, for they forthwith made a desperate incursion into England, with some idea (it is thought) of staying the event. But they were severely punished, and needs' must cower under the now all-powerful crown. The appointment of effective wardens presently ceased. In 1606, by the Act I' Jac., Cap. I, the English Parliament repealed the anti-Scots laws, on condition that the Scots Parliament reciprocated; and presently a kindred measure was touched with the Sceptre at Edinburgh. The administration of the Border was left to the ordinary tribunals, and the Laws of the Marches vanished to the lumber room. FRANCIS WATT. are From The Nineteenth Century. ' THE LIMITS OF BIOGRAPHY. For many years in England the follies of great men have been held the property of the fool. No sooner is genius laid upon its bier than the vultures are ready to swoop, and to drag from the dead bones two (or more) volumes of what were once most worthily described as "remains." Neither cancelled cheques nor washing bills discarded, and if research may uncover a forgotten scandal the bird of prey is happy indeed. With an energy amazing only for its misdirection, the "collector" wanders abroad that he may purchase the secrets of poets he never knew, and may snatch a brief notoriety from the common ridicule, wherein he involves an unapproachable talent. Thus, by a curious ingenuity, Shelley has become a hero of intrigues. The amateur of letters overlooks the poet, the intrepid champion of lost causes, the fearless fighter of other men's battles. Nor does he interest himself in the gay, irresponsible, pleasureseeking adventurer, quick to succor others and to imagine fantastic plots against himself. No, he merely puts him in the dock upon a charge of marital infidelity, and constituting himself at once judge and jury, condemns him (in a lecture) to perpetual obloquy. Thus, too, the gimlet glance of a thousand Paul Prys pierces the letters which John Keats destined only for the eye of Fanny Brawne. Thus, too, note everywhere the same fury of dethrough the indiscretion of pretended tection. The reviews fatten upon the friends, Rossetti has been pictured dead with a ghoulish ferocity; it is alnow as a shivering apostle of senti- most impossible to discover a journal ment, now as an astute, even an un- free from the prevailing frankness: no scrupulous, driver of hard bargains. man's letters are thought too insignifiTo multiply examples were easy, if cant for print; and the Bibliothèque unprofitable. Nor is it difficult to dis- Nationale will soon be too small to concover the motive of this restless curi- tain the vast array of books and pamosity. An interest in letters is neces- phlets which disclose hitherto inviolate sary to a world compelled to read by secrets. The prime heroes of revelaact of Parliament. But compulsion tion are, naturally, Alfred de Musset does not imply understanding, and gos- and George Sand. And they were alsip is far easier of digestion than po- ready the common talk of the marketetry. The revelation of a poet's place; they were France's solitary inintrigue lacks no element of attraction; discretion before the present epidemic it appeals directly to that spirit which of curiosity. Musset, in fact, is the confounds printed matter with litera- Shelley of France. His poems may be ture; it flatters the ambition of those forgotten; it may need the genius of who without toil would feign an inti- Sarah Bernhardt to revivify his plays; macy with the great; and before all but his journey to Venice is still disthings it seems to impart in the guise cussed in railway train and omnibus. of culture a knowledge of life, as it is Nor can it be said that either he or his lived in a sphere of large ideals and accomplice is blameless in the matter. liberal courage. What wonder is it, Even before they had left Italy behind then, that the tragedy of Harriet and they both displayed a desperate zeal in the misery of Fanny Brawne are fa- the open washing of their dirty linen. miliar to many who never read the No sooner had the disconsolate Musset "Ode to the Skylark," and who could been dismissed by his Lélia than all not repeat the first line of Keats's "En- the world was in his confidence, and dymion?" Such a study of literature is Lélia was composing masterpieces of a pleasant relief from the hungry con- sentiment that Sainte-Beuve and the sumption of illustrated magazines and rest might be furnished with the last of dextrously assorted snippets. It bulletin. But gossip, however induspampers the same appetite with a fur- trious, was insufficient to proclaim the tive show of refinement, and in En- intimate sentiments of these twin gland at least the greed of irrelevant souls. First Musset was inspired to information has no serious rival save make a public confession of his love, the football field. But it is with a sin- whereupon George Sand was comcere surprise that you note an increas- pelled, in self-defence, to a counter ing taste for literary revelation on the demonstration. The scandal once awakother side of the Channel. Hitherto ened could not easily be put to rest, France has preserved a suitable dis- and M. Paul de Musset, with finer zeal dain; she has declined to confuse po- than wisdom, rushed in to champion etry with adultery; she has refused his brother. So that no detail in this most honorably to tear open the letter- picnic of love and hate, this orgie of bags of the great; and her appreciation fever and hysteria, is withheld from of literature has been in consequence the curious. Indeed, it is not the fault all the more dignified and single- of the actors if we do not know every minded. But the austerity of French scene of the tedious drama. Alfred, criticism has yielded at last, and its on the one hand, roamed Venice up and very persistence in well-doing intensi- down, while George was dying of fies the disgrace of its ultimate sur- fever; George, on the other, began her render, flirtation with the ineffable Pagello Reticence being at an end, you may when the poet lay on the verge of nad passed between two persons who, apart from their printed works, are complete strangers to us. Once more we are present at a triangular duel which concerns no living man except the amiable and amazing Doctor Pagello. ness, and even threatened the lover to contemplate the love-letters which who had broken her heart with the terrors of a lunatic asylum. So much was already whispered in the ear of a confiding public when Madame Colet came, with the added result of her investigation; then there followed a mob of curious physicians, who held each his hand at his victim's pulse, and registered every change of temperature which afflicted the sensitive ardor of those unhappy lovers, until at last Musset, the refined and elegant, became the hero of half-a-dozen cheap novels, and was forced through the mask of an actor to recite bad verses in a provincial theatre. a Yet indignity lives in cycles, and for a while the scandal of Venice was forgotten, only to be revived with fiercer energy and a flood of "documents inédits." And to-day the war rages more briskly than ever. The Sandistes, led by M. le Vicomte de Spoëlberch de Lovenjoul, are prompt in the attack, while M. Maurice Clouard, with an eager band of Mussetistes at his back, is inexorable in defence. Blame and praise are awarded with a liberal hand, and it does not occur to any single one of these critics that no one may be an arbiter of another's love or hate. A man and a woman engage in an equal duel; now he, now she receives the deeper wound; but each is free to retire from the combat at pleasure, and it is an idle justice which should find condemnation of either after sixty years. However, French literature is occupied for the moment with the "Amoureux de Venise," and in M. Paul Mariéton these unfortunates have found their historian. In his recently published "Histoire d'Amour" (Paris: Havard), this writer has investigated the mystery with the diligence of an ancient scholiast. Moreover his impartiality is above suspicion; he has pat George Sand in one scale, Alfred de Musset in the other, and he has held the balance with an equal hand. The work is well done; but that is not so wonderful as that it should be done at all. Another flood of rhetoric overwhelms us; once more we are invited VOL. XIV. 707 LIVING AGE. Now of Doctor Pagello there was many a dark hint in the ancient controversy. But, since he had not yet rushed into the fray with his own little bundle of "copy," he alone of the actors in the drama was enveloped in a mysterious atmosphere of reticence. However, he too has broken silence at last; in fact, he first broke silence in 1881, and M. Mariéton finds his restraint remarkable. Yet a sin grows no lighter for keeping, and the reflection of half a century might, with the wisdom of old age, have counselled prudence. Call no man happy, said the Persian king, until his life is finished; call no man discreet until death takes away the opportunity of betrayal. And yet how shall we be angry with Doctor Pagello? For, though he is beyond the hope of pardon, though he has revealed another's secret, he has added a new character to fiction and experience. We have no right to contemplate him, but he himself cries for attention, and assuredly his own Italy, rich in farce, provides no more amusing figure. The one surprising event of his life OCcurred more than sixty years ago. George Sand, his lover, Alfred de Musset, his defeated rival, have long since won death and immortality; but Doctor Pagello remains unknown to the world and constant to his profession. Had he only been able to hold his tongue, he might have smiled at the past with infinite satisfaction. might have become the Man in the Iron Mask to the amateurs of tittletattle. Unhappily temptation proved irresistible. He too, as well as his betters, had kept a record of his love, some fragments of which found their way into print fifteen years since, and, not content with a single revelation, he has now surrendered himself a willing subject to the interviewer. And here He |