Old Mortality, Illustrated, Volume 2. - Sir Walter Scott
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OLD MORTALITY
By Walter Scott
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VOLUME II.
CHAPTER I.
And look how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon this plain--so many hollow factions.
Troilus and Cressida.
In a hollow of the hill, about a quarter of a mile from the field of
battle, was a shepherd's hut; a miserable cottage, which, as the only
enclosed spot within a moderate distance, the leaders of the presbyterian
army had chosen for their council-house. Towards this spot Burley guided
Morton, who was surprised, as he approached it, at the multifarious
confusion of sounds which issued from its precincts. The calm and anxious
gravity which it might be supposed would have presided in councils held
on such important subjects, and at a period so critical, seemed to have
given place to discord wild, and loud uproar, which fell on the ear of
their new ally as an evil augury of their future measures. As they
approached the door, they found it open indeed, but choked up with the
bodies and heads of countrymen, who, though no members of the council,
felt no scruple in intruding themselves upon deliberations in which they
were so deeply interested. By expostulation, by threats, and even by some
degree of violence, Burley, the sternness of whose character maintained a
sort of superiority over these disorderly forces, compelled the intruders
to retire, and, introducing Morton into the cottage, secured the door
behind them against impertinent curiosity. At a less agitating moment,
the young man might have been entertained with the singular scene of
which he now found himself an auditor and a spectator.
The precincts of the gloomy and ruinous hut were enlightened partly by
some furze which blazed on the hearth, the smoke whereof, having no legal
vent, eddied around, and formed over the heads of the assembled council a
clouded canopy, as opake as their metaphysical theology, through which,
like stars through mist, were dimly seen to twinkle a few blinking
candles, or rather rushes dipped in tallow, the property of the poor
owner of the cottage, which were stuck to the walls by patches of wet
clay. This broken and dusky light showed many a countenance elated with
spiritual pride, or rendered dark by fierce enthusiasm; and some whose
anxious, wandering, and uncertain looks, showed they felt themselves
rashly embarked in a cause which they had neither courage nor conduct to
bring to a good issue, yet knew not how to abandon, for very shame. They
were, indeed, a doubtful and disunited body. The most active of their
number were those concerned with Burley in the death of the Primate, four
or five of whom had found their way to Loudon-hill, together with other
men of the same relentless and uncompromising zeal, who had, in various
ways, given desperate and unpardonable offence to the government.
With them were mingled their preachers, men who had spurned at the
indulgence offered by government, and preferred assembling their flocks
in the wilderness, to worshipping in temples built by human hands, if
their doing the latter should be construed to admit any right on the part
of their rulers to interfere with the supremacy of the Kirk. The other
class of counsellors were such gentlemen of small fortune, and
substantial farmers, as a sense of intolerable oppression had induced to
take arms and join the insurgents. These also had their clergymen with
them, and such divines, having many of them taken advantage of the
indulgence, were prepared to resist the measures of their more violent
brethren, who proposed a declaration in which they should give testimony
against the warrants and instructions for indulgence as sinful and
unlawful acts. This delicate question had been passed over in silence in
the first draught of the manifestos which they intended to publish, of
the reasons of their gathering in arms; but it had been stirred anew
during Balfour's absence, and, to his great vexation, he now found that
both parties had opened upon it in full cry, Macbriar, Kettledrummle, and
other teachers of the wanderers, being at the very spring-tide of
polemical discussion with Peter Poundtext, the indulged pastor of
Milnwood's parish, who, it seems, had e'en girded himself with a
broadsword, but, ere he was called upon to fight for the good cause of
presbytery in the field, was manfully defending his own dogmata in the
council. It was the din of this conflict, maintained chiefly between
Poundtext and Kettledrummle, together with the clamour of their
adherents, which had saluted Morton's ears upon approaching the cottage.
Indeed, as both the divines were men well gifted with words and lungs,
and each fierce, ardent, and intolerant in defence of his own doctrine,
prompt in the recollection of texts wherewith they battered each other
without mercy, and deeply impressed with the importance of the subject of
discussion, the noise of the debate betwixt them fell little short of
that which might have attended an actual bodily conflict.
Burley, scandalized at the disunion implied in this virulent strife of
tongues, interposed between the disputants, and, by some general remarks
on the unseasonableness of discord, a soothing address to the vanity of
each party, and the exertion of the authority which his services in that
day's victory entitled him to assume, at length succeeded in prevailing
upon them to adjourn farther discussion of the controversy. But although
Kettledrummle and Poundtext were thus for the time silenced, they
continued to eye each other like two dogs, who, having been separated by
the authority of their masters while fighting, have retreated, each
beneath the chair of his owner, still watching each other's motions, and
indicating, by occasional growls, by the erected bristles of the back and
ears, and by the red glance of the eye, that their discord is unappeased,
and that they only wait the first opportunity afforded by any general
movement or commotion in the company, to fly once more at each other's
throats.
Balfour took advantage of the momentary pause to present to the council
Mr Henry Morton of Milnwood, as one touched with a sense of the evils of
the times, and willing to peril goods and life in the precious cause for
which his father, the renowned Silas Morton, had given in his time a
soul-stirring testimony. Morton was instantly received with the right
hand of fellowship by his ancient pastor, Poundtext, and by those among
the insurgents who supported the more moderate principles. The others
muttered something about Erastianism, and reminded each other in
whispers, that Silas Morton, once a stout and worthy servant of the
Covenant, had been a backslider in the day when the resolutioners had led
the way in owning the authority of Charles Stewart, thereby making a gap
whereat the present tyrant was afterwards brought in, to the oppression
both of Kirk and country. They added, however, that, on this great day of
calling, they would not refuse society with any who should put hand to
the plough; and so Morton was installed in his office of leader and
counsellor, if not with the full approbation of his colleagues, at least
without any formal or avowed dissent. They proceeded, on Burley's motion,
to divide among themselves the command of the men who had assembled, and
whose numbers were daily increasing. In this partition, the insurgents of
Poundtext's parish and congregation were naturally placed under the
command of Morton; an arrangement mutually agreeable to both parties, as
he was recommended to their confidence, as well by his personal qualities
as his having been born among them.
When this task was accomplished, it became necessary to determine what
use was to be made of their victory. Morton's heart throbbed high when he
heard the Tower of Tillietudlem named as one of the most important
positions to be seized upon. It commanded, as we have often noticed, the
pass between the more wild and the more fertile country, and must
furnish, it was plausibly urged, a stronghold and place of rendezvous to
the cavaliers and malignants of the district, supposing the insurgents
were to march onward and leave it uninvested. This measure was
particularly urged as necessary by Poundtext and those of his immediate
followers, whose habitations and families might be exposed to great
severities, if this strong place were permitted to remain in possession
of the royalists.
"I opine," said Poundtext,--for, like the other divines of the period, he
had no hesitation in offering his advice upon military matters of which
he was profoundly ignorant,--"I opine, that we should take in and raze
that stronghold of the woman Lady Margaret Bellenden, even though we
should build a fort and raise a mount against it; for the race is a
rebellious and a bloody race, and their hand has been heavy on the
children of the Covenant, both in the former and the latter times. Their
hook hath been in our noses, and their bridle betwixt our jaws."
"What are their means and men of defence?" said Burley. "The place is
strong; but I cannot conceive that two women can make it good against a
host."
"There is also," said Poundtext, "Harrison the steward, and John Gudyill,
even the lady's chief butler, who boasteth himself a man of war from his
youth upward, and who spread the banner against the good cause with that
man of Belial, James Grahame of Montrose."
"Pshaw!" returned Burley, scornfully, "a butler!"
"Also, there is that ancient malignant," replied Poundtext, "Miles
Bellenden of Charnwood, whose hands have been dipped in the blood of the
saints."
"If that," said Burley, "be Miles Bellenden, the brother of Sir Arthur,
he is one whose sword will not turn back from battle; but he must now be
stricken in years."
"There was word in the country as I rode along," said another of the
council, "that so soon as they heard of the victory which has been given
to us, they caused shut the gates of the tower, and called in men, and
collected ammunition. They were ever a fierce and a malignant house."
"We will not, with my consent," said Burley, "engage in a siege which may
consume time. We must rush forward, and follow our advantage by occupying
Glasgow; for I do not fear that the troops we have this day beaten, even
with the assistance of my Lord Ross's regiment, will judge it safe to
await our coming."
"Howbeit," said Poundtext, "we may display a banner before the Tower, and
blow a trumpet, and summon them to come forth. It may be that they will
give over the place into our mercy, though they be a rebellious people.
And we will summon the women to come forth of their stronghold, that is,
Lady Margaret Bellenden and her grand-daughter, and Jenny Dennison, which
is a girl of an ensnaring eye, and the other maids, and we will give them
a safe conduct, and send them in peace to the city, even to the town of
Edinburgh. But John Gudyill, and Hugh Harrison, and Miles Bellenden, we
will restrain with fetters of iron, even as they, in times bypast, have
done to the martyred saints."
"Who talks of safe conduct and of peace?" said a shrill, broken, and
overstrained voice, from the crowd.
"Peace, brother Habakkuk," said Macbriar, in a soothing tone, to the
speaker.
"I will not hold my peace," reiterated the strange and unnatural voice;
"is this a time to speak of peace, when the earth quakes, and the
mountains are rent, and the rivers are changed into blood, and the
two-edged sword is drawn from the sheath to drink gore as if it were
water, and devour flesh as the fire devours dry stubble?"
While he spoke thus, the orator struggled forward to the inner part of
the circle, and presented to Morton's wondering eyes a figure worthy of
such a voice and such language. The rags of a dress which had once been
black, added to the tattered fragments of a shepherd's plaid, composed a
covering scarce fit for the purposes of decency, much less for those of
warmth or comfort. A long beard, as white as snow, hung down on his
breast, and mingled with bushy, uncombed, grizzled hair, which hung in
elf-locks around his wild and staring visage. The features seemed to be
extenuated by penury and famine, until they hardly retained the likeness
of a human aspect. The eyes, grey, wild, and wandering, evidently
betokened a bewildered imagination. He held in his hand a rusty sword,
clotted with blood, as were his long lean hands, which were garnished at
the extremity with nails like eagle's claws.
"In the name of Heaven! who is he?" said Morton, in a whisper to
Poundtext, surprised, shocked, and even startled, at this ghastly
apparition, which looked more like the resurrection of some cannibal
priest, or druid red from his human sacrifice, than like an earthly
mortal.
"It is Habakkuk Mucklewrath," answered Poundtext, in the same tone, "whom
the enemy have long detained in captivity in forts and castles, until his
understanding hath departed from him, and, as I fear, an evil demon hath
possessed him. Nevertheless, our violent brethren will have it, that he
speaketh of the spirit, and that they fructify by his pouring forth."
Here he was interrupted by Mucklewrath, who cried in a voice that made
the very beams of the roof quiver--"Who talks of peace and safe conduct?
who speaks of mercy to the bloody house of the malignants? I say take the
infants and dash them against the stones; take the daughters and the
mothers of the house and hurl them from the battlements of their trust,
that the dogs may fatten on their blood as they did on that of Jezabel,
the spouse of Ahab, and that their carcasses may be dung to the face of
the field even in the portion of their fathers!"
"He speaks right," said more than one sullen voice from behind; "we will
be honoured with little service in the great cause, if we already make
fair weather with Heaven's enemies."
"This is utter abomination and daring impiety," said Morton, unable to
contain his indignation.
"What blessing can you expect in a cause, in which you listen to the
mingled ravings of madness and atrocity?"
"Hush, young man!" said Kettledrummle, "and reserve thy censure for that
for which thou canst render a reason. It is not for thee to judge into
what vessels the spirit may be poured."
"We judge of the tree by the fruit," said Poundtext, "and allow not that
to be of divine inspiration that contradicts the divine laws."
"You forget, brother Poundtext," said Macbriar, "that these are the
latter days, when signs and wonders shall be multiplied."
Poundtext stood forward to reply; but, ere he could articulate a word,
the insane preacher broke in with a scream that drowned all competition.
"Who talks of signs and wonders? Am not I Habakkuk Mucklewrath, whose
name is changed to Magor-Missabib, because I am made a terror unto myself
and unto all that are around me?--I heard it--When did I hear it?--Was it
not in the Tower of the Bass, that overhangeth the wide wild sea?--And it
howled in the winds, and it roared in the billows, and it screamed, and
it whistled, and it clanged, with the screams and the clang and the
whistle of the sea-birds, as they floated, and flew, and dropped, and
dived, on the bosom of the waters. I saw it--Where did I see it?--Was it
not from the high peaks of Dunbarton, when I looked westward upon the
fertile land, and northward on the wild Highland hills; when the clouds
gathered and the tempest came, and the lightnings of heaven flashed in
sheets as wide as the banners of an host?--What did I see?--Dead corpses
and wounded horses, the rushing together of battle, and garments rolled
in blood.--What heard I?--The voice that cried, Slay, slay--smite--slay
utterly--let not your eye have pity! slay utterly, old and young, the
maiden, the child, and the woman whose head is grey--Defile the house and
fill the courts with the slain!"
"We receive the command," exclaimed more than one of the company. "Six
days he hath not spoken nor broken bread, and now his tongue is
unloosed:--We receive the command; as he hath said, so will we do."
Astonished, disgusted, and horror-struck, at what he had seen and heard,
Morton turned away from the circle and left the cottage. He was followed
by Burley, who had his eye on his motions.
"Whither are you going?" said the latter, taking him by the arm.
"Any where,--I care not whither; but here I will abide no longer."
"Art thou so soon weary, young man?" answered Burley. "Thy hand is but
now put to the plough, and wouldst thou already abandon it? Is this thy
adherence to the cause of thy father?"
"No cause," replied Morton, indignantly--"no cause can prosper, so
conducted. One party declares for the ravings of a bloodthirsty madman;
another leader is an old scholastic pedant; a third"--he stopped, and his
companion continued the sentence--"Is a desperate homicide, thou wouldst
say, like John Balfour of Burley?--I can bear thy misconstruction without
resentment. Thou dost not consider, that it is not men of sober and
self-seeking minds, who arise in these days of wrath to execute judgment
and to accomplish deliverance. Hadst thou but seen the armies of England,
during her Parliament of 1640, whose ranks were filled with sectaries and
enthusiasts, wilder than the anabaptists of Munster, thou wouldst have
had more cause to marvel; and yet these men were unconquered on the
field, and their hands wrought marvellous things for the liberties of the
land."
"But their affairs," replied Morton, "were wisely conducted, and the
violence of their zeal expended itself in their exhortations and sermons,
without bringing divisions into their counsels, or cruelty into their
conduct. I have often heard my father say so, and protest, that he
wondered at nothing so much as the contrast between the extravagance of
their religious tenets, and the wisdom and moderation with which they
conducted their civil and military affairs. But our councils seem all one
wild chaos of confusion."
"Thou must have patience, Henry Morton," answered Balfour; "thou must not
leave the cause of thy religion and country either for one wild word, or
one extravagant action. Hear me. I have already persuaded the wiser of
our friends, that the counsellors are too numerous, and that we cannot
expect that the Midianites shall, by so large a number, be delivered into
our hands. They have hearkened to my voice, and our assemblies will be
shortly reduced within such a number as can consult and act together; and
in them thou shalt have a free voice, as well as in ordering our affairs
of war, and protecting those to whom mercy should be shown--Art thou now
satisfied?"
"It will give me pleasure, doubtless," answered Morton, "to be the means
of softening the horrors of civil war; and I will not leave the post I
have taken, unless I see measures adopted at which my conscience revolts.
But to no bloody executions after quarter asked, or slaughter without
trial, will I lend countenance or sanction; and you may depend on my
opposing them, with both heart and hand, as constantly and resolutely, if
attempted by our own followers, as when they are the work of the enemy."
Balfour waved his hand impatiently.
"Thou wilt find," he said, "that the stubborn and hard-hearted generation
with whom we deal, must be chastised with scorpions ere their hearts be
humbled, and ere they accept the punishment of their iniquity. The word
is gone forth against them, 'I will bring a sword upon you that shall
avenge the quarrel of my Covenant.' But what is done shall be done
gravely, and with discretion, like that of the worthy James Melvin, who
executed judgment on the tyrant and oppressor, Cardinal Beaton."
"I own to you," replied Morton, "that I feel still more abhorrent at
cold-blooded and premeditated cruelty, than at that which is practised in
the heat of zeal and resentment."
"Thou art yet but a youth," replied Balfour, "and hast not learned how
light in the balance are a few drops of blood in comparison to the weight
and importance of this great national testimony. But be not afraid;
thyself shall vote and judge in these matters; it may be we shall see
little cause to strive together anent them."
With this concession Morton was compelled to be satisfied for the
present; and Burley left him, advising him to lie down and get some rest,
as the host would probably move in the morning.
"And you," answered Morton, "do not you go to rest also?"
"No," said Burley; "my eyes must not yet know slumber. This is no work to
be done lightly; I have yet to perfect the choosing of the committee of
leaders, and I will call you by times in the morning to be present at
their consultation."
He turned away, and left Morton to his repose.
The place in which he found himself was not ill adapted for the purpose,
being a sheltered nook, beneath a large rock, well protected from the
prevailing wind. A quantity of moss with which the ground was overspread,
made a couch soft enough for one who had suffered so much hardship and
anxiety. Morton wrapped himself in the horse-man's cloak which he had
still retained, stretched himself on the ground, and had not long
indulged in melancholy reflections on the state of the country, and upon
his own condition, ere he was relieved from them by deep and sound
slumber.
The rest of the army slept on the ground, dispersed in groups, which
chose their beds on the fields as they could best find shelter and
convenience. A few of the principal leaders held wakeful conference with
Burley on the state of their affairs, and some watchmen were appointed
who kept themselves on the alert by chanting psalms, or listening to the
exercises of the more gifted of their number.
CHAPTER II.
Got with much ease--now merrily to horse.
Henry IV. Part I.
With the first peep of day Henry awoke, and found the faithful Cuddie
standing beside him with a portmanteau in his hand.
"I hae been just putting your honour's things in readiness again ye were
waking," said Cuddie, "as is my duty, seeing ye hae been sae gude as to
tak me into your service."
"I take you into my service, Cuddie?" said Morton, "you must be
dreaming."
"Na, na, stir," answered Cuddie; "didna I say when I was tied on the
horse yonder, that if ever ye gat loose I would be your servant, and ye
didna say no? and if that isna hiring, I kenna what is. Ye gae me nae
arles, indeed, but ye had gien me eneugh before at Milnwood."
"Well, Cuddie, if you insist on taking the chance of my unprosperous
fortunes"--
"Ou ay, I'se warrant us a' prosper weel eneugh," answered Cuddie,
cheeringly, "an anes my auld mither was weel putten up. I hae begun the
campaigning trade at an end that is easy eneugh to learn."
"Pillaging, I suppose?" said Morton, "for how else could you come by that
portmanteau?"
"I wotna if it's pillaging, or how ye ca't," said Cuddie, "but it comes
natural to a body, and it's a profitable trade. Our folk had tirled the
dead dragoons as bare as bawbees before we were loose amaist.--But when I
saw the Whigs a' weel yokit by the lugs to Kettledrummle and the other
chield, I set off at the lang trot on my ain errand and your honour's.
Sae I took up the syke a wee bit, away to the right, where I saw the
marks o'mony a horsefoot, and sure eneugh I cam to a place where there
had been some clean leatherin', and a' the puir chields were lying there
buskit wi' their claes just as they had put them on that morning--naebody
had found out that pose o' carcages--and wha suld be in the midst thereof
(as my mither says) but our auld acquaintance, Sergeant Bothwell?"
"Ay, has that man fallen?" said Morton.
"Troth has he," answered Cuddie; "and his een were open and his brow
bent, and his teeth clenched thegither, like the jaws of a trap for
foumarts when the spring's doun--I was amaist feared to look at him;
however, I thought to hae turn about wi' him, and sae I e'en riped his
pouches, as he had dune mony an honester man's; and here's your ain
siller again (or your uncle's, which is the same) that he got at Milnwood
that unlucky night that made us a' sodgers thegither."
"There can be no harm, Cuddie," said Morton, "in making use of this
money, since we know how he came by it; but you must divide with me."
"Bide a wee, bide a wee," said Cuddie. "Weel, and there's a bit ring he
had hinging in a black ribbon doun on his breast. I am thinking it has
been a love-token, puir fallow--there's naebody sae rough but they hae
aye a kind heart to the lasses--and there's a book wi'a wheen papers, and
I got twa or three odd things, that I'll keep to mysell, forby."
"Upon my word, you have made a very successful foray for a beginner,"
said his new master.
"Haena I e'en now?" said Cuddie, with great exultation. "I tauld ye I
wasna that dooms stupid, if it cam to lifting things.--And forby, I hae
gotten twa gude horse. A feckless loon of a Straven weaver, that has left
his loom and his bein house to sit skirling on a cauld hill-side, had
catched twa dragoon naigs, and he could neither gar them hup nor wind,
sae he took a gowd noble for them baith--I suld hae tried him wi' half
the siller, but it's an unco ill place to get change in--Ye'll find the
siller's missing out o' Bothwell's purse."