SAINT ANTHONY'S CHAPEL-SALISBURY CRAGS. "Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble." Macbeth, Act III. [Tales of My Landlord, 2d Series, (Heart of Midlothian,) Vol. II. p. 8. "As our heroine (Jeanie Deans) approached this ominous and unhallowed spot, she paused and looked to the moon, now rising broad on the north-west, and shedding a more distinct light than it had afforded during her walk thither. Eyeing the planet for a moment, she then slowly and fearfully turned her head towards the cairn,* from which it was at first averted. She was at first disappointed-nothing was visible beside the little pile of stones, which shone grey in the moonlight. A multitude of confused suggestions rushed on her mind. Had her correspondent deceived her, and broken his appointment? had some strange turn of fate prevented him from appearing? or, if he were an unearthly being, as her secret apprehension suggested, was it his object to delude her with false hopes, as she had learned was according to the nature of those wandering demons? or did he purpose to blast her with the sudden horrors of his presence, when she had come close to the place of rendezvous? These anxious reflections did not prevent her approaching to the cairn with a pace that, though slow, was determined. "When she was within two yards of the heap of stones, a figure rose suddenly up from behind it, and Jeanie scarce forebore to scream aloud at what seemed the realization of the most frightful of her anticipations: she constrained herself to silence, however, and, making a dead pause, suffered the figure to open the conversation, which he did, by asking in a voice which agitation rendered tremulous and hollow, "Are you the sister of that ill-fated young woman?"I am-I am the sister of Effie Deans!" exclaimed Jeanie, "and, as ever you hope God will hear you at your need, tell me, if you can tell, what can be done to save her!". "I do not hope God will hear me at my need," was the singular answer, "I do not deserve-I do not expect he will:-you see before you * Muschat's cairn. Maschat, a young surgeon, while studying at Edinburgh, made an unsuitable match with a person in humble life, named Margaret Hall; repenting of the step, he attempted to divorce, forsake, and even poison her; but, failing in these, he at last formed the desperate resolution, to relieve himself of the incumbrance by cutting her throat. The day previous to the enactment of the horrid tragedy, he feigned a return of his first affection, and persuaded his victim to accompany him on an evening walk to Duddingston; when nearly at the end of the "Duke's Walk," he threw her on the ground, and, after a violent struggle, effected her death, under circumstances of the most appalling character. He was executed in the Grassmarket, and hung in chains on the Gallowlee, sometime in the year 1720. A cairn of stones marks the exact spot where the murder was committed. P a wretch, predestined to evil here and hereafter." "For the sake of heaven, that hears and sees us," said Jeanie, "dinna speak in this desperate fashion! The gospel is sent to the chief of sinners-to the most miserable among the miserable."- "Then should I have my own share therein," said the stranger, "if you call it sinful, to have been the destruction of the mother that bore me, of the friend that loved me, of the woman that trusted me, of the innocent child that was born to me. If to have done all this, is to be a sinner, and to survive it is to be miserable, then am I'most guilty and most miserable indeed." This extraordinary confession and moonlight meeting, between Jeanie Deans and Robertson, is represented as having occurred in the desolate tract that surrounds St. Anthony's Chapel and hermitage, near to the town of Edinburgh. The ruins stand in the depths of the valley behind Salisbury Crags, over-hung by the mountain called Arthur's Seat. A more appropriate site for a hermitage could scarcely have been selected; the chapel, encircled by rude and pathless cliffs, lies in a desert, although in the immediate vicinity of a rich, populous, and even tumultuous capital; and the civic hum might mingle with the orisons of the recluses, yet produce effects as unheeded as the splashing of the waves at the base of the isolated rock. The ancient chapel extended forty-five feet in length, with a breadth of twenty; from the western end rose a tower, twenty feet square, to the height of forty feet; all of which were entire in the times of Maitland and Arnot the historians. The remains of the chapel are insignificant; but the cell may yet be distinctly traced, a few yards west from the former, and measures sixteen feet in length by twelve in breadth. The monastery to which this ancient cell and chapel were attached, was situated a little to the north-west of the present church of South Leith, upon the west side of the lane still denominated, St. Anthony's Wynd; and the seal of the monastery is preserved in the Advocates' Library in Edinburgh. At the foot of a precipice, below the site of the hermitage, the waters of St Anthony's Well gush forth: this was once a favourite walk of queen Mary, and her name is still associated with many a legend, the scene of which is laid in this vicinity. These hallowed precincts are much visited on Sunday evenings, and are endeared to the recollection of many by their introduction into one of the most touching, tender ballads in the whole range of Scottish poetry. "I leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; "Oh! Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, St. Anton's Well shall be my drink, Sin' my true love's forsaken me." |