Hobbie Noble
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aerial view of Bewcastle, showing castle, church and roman fort |
Hobbie (Robert) Noble was an Englishman who lived at Bewcastle. Thomas Musgrave's Report on the Border Riders (1583) records: '… with the Nixons dwell the Nobles, Taylors, some of the Grames, and a few Storyes, and are hard by the house of Bewcastell'. In addition, 'Hobbe' Noble is named as one of those who 'all dwell within the domain of Bewcastell'. However, for some reason Hobbie Noble was thrown out of Bewcastle and forced to live in Liddesdale.
Hobbie first appears in the ballad 'Jock o' the Side', which recounts the events that occurred when he took part in the daring rescue of Jock Armstrong, the nephew of the laird of Mangerton. Armstrong -- Jock o' the Side -- had carried out a raid with a reiving band out of Liddesdale, and during the foray, a man was killed and Jock was taken prisoner. The laird sent his two sons and Hobbie to get him out of the jail at Newcastle upon Tyne; after a series of adventures, they were successful.
Documents show that both Jock of the Side and Hobbie Noble were active in the mid-16th century. An anonymous correspondent, writing in 1599, substantiates the events in the ballad:
In the reign of the King's mother [Mary Queen of Scots] John Armstrong called the laird's Jok and Hob the nobill came to the prison of Newcastle and broke up a postern gate and took out John Armstrong called John of the Syd, their kinsman, and no fault found with it by England but only punished their own gaoler for his sloth.
Through his participation in Jock's rescue, Hobbie Noble earned the gratitude of the laird of Mangerton, but if the ballad that bears his name is true, he appears to have also gained the enmity of Sim of the Mains -- 'The Mains' is still a farm in Liddesdale. A member of the Whithaugh branch of the Armstrongs, Sim appears to have been bribed by the English to bring Hobbie to justice in Carlisle. The ballad implies that Noble had killed the brother of the land-sergeant and so was wanted for murder -- enough reason to be loath to travel over the border by daylight, not to mention his stealing of Anton Shiel's sheep and the possessions ('gear') he had purloined from the 'great Earl of Whitfield'.
Sim arranges for Hobbie to lead a reiving raid, and while the latter sleeps at Foulbogshiel, next to Bewcastle Waste, he is attacked by 'heaps o' men' and taken to Carlisle. If Sim profited from his treachery, he did not do so for long. According to Sir Walter Scott's Minstrelsy, the laird of Mangerton was so angry at him that he had to flee to England, where he was hanged for his own crimes just two months after Hobbie Noble's execution.
Taken from Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border by Sir Walter Scott, Harrap, 1931.
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in!
That Liddesdale may safely say:
For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.
And we were a' stout-hearted men,
As England she might often say;
But now we may turn our backs and flee,
Since brave Noble is sold away.
Now Hobbie was an Englishman,
And born into Bewcastle dale;
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banish'd him to Liddesdale.
At Kershope foot the tryst was set,
Kershope of the lilye lee;
And there was traitor Sim o' the Mains,
And with him a private companie.
Then Hobbie was graithed his body fair,
Baith wi' the iron and wi' the steel;
And he has ta'en out his fringed grey,
And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.
Then Hobbie is down the water gane,
E'en as fast as he could hie;
Tho' a' should hae bursten and broken their hearts,
Frae that riding tryst he wad na be.
'Weel be ye met, my feres five!
And now, what is your will wi' me?'
Then they cried a', wi ae consent,
'Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.
'Wilt thou with us into England ride,
And thy safe warrand we will be?
If we get a horse, worth a hundred pound,
Upon his back thou sune shalt be.'
'I dare not by day into England ride;
The land-sergeant has me at feid:
And I know not what evil may betide,
For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead.
'And Anton Shiel he loves not me,
For I gat twa drifts o' his sheep;
The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,
For nae geer frae me he e'er could keep.
'But will ye stay til the day gae down,
Until the night come o'er the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth ony twa
That may in Liddesdale be found?
'Tho' the night be black as pick and tar,
I'll guide ye o'er yon hill sae hie;
And bring ye a' in safety back,
If ye'll be true, and follow me.'
He has guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and hope, and mony a down;
Until they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there, brave Noble he lighted down.
But word is gane to the land-sergeant,
In Askerton where that he lay -
'The deer, that ye hae hunted sae lang,
Is seen into the Waste this day.'
'Then Hobbie Noble is that deer!
I wat he carries the style fu' hie;
Aft has he driven our bluidhounds back,
And set ourselves at little lee.
'Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn;
See they sharp their arrows on the wa':
Warn Willeva and Speir Edom,
And see the morn they meet me a'.
'Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh,
And see it be by break o' day;
And we will on to Conscouthart-green,
For there, I think, we'll get our prey.'
Then Hobbie Noble has dreimit a dreim,
In the Foulbogshiel, where that he lay;
He dreimit his horse was aneath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.
The cocks goud craw, the day goud daw,
And I wot sae even fell down the rain;
Had Hobbie na wakened at that time,
In the Foulbogshiel he had been ta'en or slain.
'Awake, awake, my feres five!
I true here makes a fu' ill day;
Yet the worst cloak o' this company,
I hope, shall cross the Waste this day.'
Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear;
But, ever alas! it was na sae:
They were beset by cruel men and keen,
That away brave Hobbie might na gae.
'Yet follow me, my feres five,
And see ye keip of me guid ray;
And the worst cloak o' this company
Even yet may cross the Waste this day.'
But the land-sergeant's men came Hobbie before,
The traitor Sim came Hobbie behin',
So had Noble been wight as Wallace was,
Away, alas! he might na win.
Then Hobbie had but a laddie's sword;
But he did mair than a laddie's deed;
For that sword had cleared Conscouthart-green,
Had it not broke o'er Jerswigham's head.
Then they hae ta'en brave Hobbie Noble,
Wi's ain bowstring they band him sae;
But his gentle heart was ne'er sae sair,
As when his ain five bound him on the brae.
They hae ta'en him on for west Carlisle;
They asked him, if he kend the way?
Tho' much he thought, yet little he said;
He knew the gate as weel as they.
They hae ta'en him up the Ricker-gate;
The wives they cast their windows wide;
And every wife to another can say,
'That's the man loosed Jock o' the Side!'
'Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man?
For it's nae man that I'm used like;
I am but like a forfoughen hound,
Has been fighting in a dirty syke.'
They hae had him up thro' Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney fire;
They gave brave Noble a loaf to eat,
And that was little his desire.
They gave him a wheaten loaf to eat,
And after that a can of beer;
And they a' cried, with one consent,
'Eat, brave Noble, and make gude cheir!'
'Confess my lord's horse, Hobbie,' they said,
'And to-morrow in Carlisle thou's na die.'
'How can I confess them,' Hobbie says,
'When I never saw them with my e'e?'
Then Hobbie has sworn a fu' great aith,
Bi the day that he was gotten and born,
He never had ony thing o' my lord's,
That either eat him grass or corn.
'Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!
For I think again I'll ne'er thee see:
I wad hae betrayed nae lad alive,
For a' the gowd o' Christentie.
'And fare thee weel, sweet Liddesdale!
Baith the hie land and the law;
Keep ye weel frae the traitor Mains!
For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'.
'Yet wad I rather be ca'd Hobbie Noble,
In Carlisle, where he suffers for his fau't,
Than I'd be ca'd the traitor Mains,
That eats and drinks o' the mel and maut.'
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