and cold. Why not leave me to lie in the bed I hae made?'
"He took me by the arm into a passage. I see the gaslicht on his
white face, and the shining o' his eyes.
"'Because I have a mother...'
"Dominie, he pulled me oot o' hell."
"Me tae, Andra, but no your hell. Ye mind the Roman Triumph, when a
general cam' hame wi' his spoils. Laddie, we're the captives that go
with his chariot up the Capitol."
Donald Menzies was a man of moods, and the Doctor's prayer had
loosed his imagination so that he saw visions.
"Look," said he, as we stood on a ridge, "I hef seen it before in
the book of Joshua."
Below the bearers had crossed a burn on foot, and were ascending the
slope where an open space of deep green was fringed with purple
heather.
"The ark hass gone over Jordan, and George will have come into the
Land of Promise."
The September sunshine glinted on the white silk George won with his
blood, and fell like a benediction on the two figures that climbed
the hard ascent close after the man they loved.
Strangers do not touch our dead in Drumtochty, but the eight of
nearest blood lower the body into the grave. The order of precedence
is keenly calculated, and the loss of a merited cord can never be
forgiven. Marget had arranged everything with Whinnie, and all saw
the fitness. His father took the head, and the feet (next in honour)
he gave to Domsie.
"Ye maun dae it. Marget said ye were o' his ain bluid."
On the right side the cords were handed to the Doctor, Gordon, and
myself; and on the left to Drumsheugh, Maclean, and Chalmers. Domsie
lifted the hood for Marget, but the roses he gently placed on
George's name. Then with bent, uncovered heads, and in unbroken
silence, we buried all that remained of our scholar.
We always waited till the grave was filled and the turf laid down, a
trying quarter of an hour. Ah me! the thud of the spade on your
mother's grave! None gave any sign of what he felt save Drumsheugh,
whose sordid slough had slipped off from a tender heart, and
Chalmers, who went behind a tombstone and sobbed aloud. Not even
Posty asked the reason so much as by a look, and Drumtochty, as it
passed, made as though it did not see. But I marked that the Dominie
took Chalmers home, and walked all the way with him to Kildrummie
station next morning. His friends erected a granite cross over
George's grave, and it was left to Domsie to choose the inscription.
There was a day when it would have been "Whom the gods love die
young." Since then Domsie had seen the kingdom of God, and this is
graven where the roses bloomed fresh every summer for twenty years
till Marget was laid with her son:
GEORGE HOWE, M.A., Died September 22nd, 1869, Aged 21.
"They shall bring the glory and honour of the nations into it."
It was a late November day when I went to see George's memorial, and
the immortal hope was burning low in my heart; but as I stood before
that cross, the sun struggled from behind a black watery bank of
cloud, and picked out every letter of the Apocalypse in gold.
A HIGHLAND MYSTIC
I
WHAT EYE HATH NOT SEEN
Strange ministers who came to assist at the Free Kirk Sacrament were
much impressed with the elders, and never forgot the transfiguration
of Donald Menzies, which used to begin about the middle of the
"action" sermon, and was completed at the singing of the last Psalm.
Once there was no glory, because the minister, being still young,
expounded a new theory of the atonement of German manufacture, and
Donald's face was piteous to behold. It haunted the minister for
months, and brought to confusion a promising course of sermons on
the contribution of Hegel to Christian thought. Donald never laid
the blame of such calamities on the preacher, but accepted them as a
just judgment on his blindness of heart.
"We hef had the open vision," Donald explained to his friend Lachlan
Campbell, who distributed the responsibility in another fashion,
"and we would not see--so the veil hass fallen."
Donald sat before the pulpit and filled the hearts of nervous
probationers with dismay, not because his face was critical, but
because it seemed non-conducting, upon which their best passages
would break like spray against a rock. It was by nature the dullest
you ever saw, with hair descending low upon the forehead, and
preposterous whiskers dominating everything that remained, except a
heavy mouth and brown, lack-lustre eyes. For a while Donald crouched
in the corner of the pew, his head sunk on his breast, a very
picture of utter hopelessness. But as the Evangel began to play
round his heart, he would fix the preacher with rapid, wistful
glances, as of one who had awaked but hardly dared believe such
things could be true. Suddenly a sigh pervaded six pews, a kind of
gentle breath of penitence, faith, love, and hope mingled together
like the incense of the sanctuary, and Donald lifted up his head.
His eyes are now aflame, and those sullen lips are refining into
curves of tenderness. From the manse pew I watched keenly, for at
any moment a wonderful sight may be seen. A radiant smile will pass
from his lips to his eyes and spread over his face, as when the sun
shines on a fallow field and the rough furrows melt into warmth and
beauty. Donald's gaze is now fixed on a window above the preacher's
head, for on these great days that window is to him as the gate of
heaven. All I could see would be a bit of blue, and the fretted
sunlight through the swaying branches of an old plane tree. But
Donald has seen his Lord hanging upon the Cross for him, and the New
Jerusalem descending like a bride adorned for her husband more
plainly than if Perugino's great Crucifixion, with the kneeling
saints, and Angelico's Outer Court of Heaven, with the dancing
angels, had been hung in our little Free Kirk. When he went down the
aisle with the flagon in the Sacrament, he walked as one in a dream,
and wist not that his face shone.
There was an interval after the Sacrament, when the stranger was
sent to his room with light refreshments, to prepare himself for the
evening, and the elders dined with the minister. Before the
introduction of the Highlanders conversation had an easy play within
recognized limits, and was always opened by Burnbrae, who had come
out in '43, and was understood to have read the Confession of Faith.
"Ye gave us a grawnd discoorse this mornin', sir, baith instructive
and edifyin'; we were juist sayin' comin' up the gairden that ye
were never heard to mair advantage."
The minister was much relieved, because he had not been hopeful
during the week, and was still dissatisfied, as he explained at
length, with the passage on the Colossian heresy.
When these doubts had been cleared up, Burnbrae did his best by the
minister up stairs, who had submitted himself to the severe test of
table addresses.
"Yon were verra suitable words at the second table; he's a
speeritually minded man, Maister Cosh, and has the richt sough."
Or at the worst, when Burnbrae's courage had failed:
"Maister McKittrick had a fine text afore the table. I aye like tae
see a man gang tae the Song o' Solomon on the Sacrament Sabbath. A'
mind Dr. Guthrie on that verra subject twenty years syne."
Having paid its religious dues, conversation was now allowed some
freedom, and it was wonderful how many things could be touched on,
always from a sacramental standpoint.
"We've been awfu' favoured wi' weather the day, and ought to be
thankfu'. Gin it hads on like this I wudna say but th'ill be a gude
hairst. That's a fine pucklie aits ye hae in the laigh park,
Burnbrae."
"A've seen waur; they're fillin' no that bad. I wes juist thinkin'
as I cam to the Kirk that there wes aits in that field the Sacrament
after the Disruption."
"Did ye notice that Rachel Skene sat in her seat through the tables?
Says I, 'Are ye no gain forrit, Mistress Skene, or hae ye lost yir
token?' 'Na, na,' says she, 'ma token's safe in ma handkerchief; but
I cudna get to Kirk yesterday, and I never went forrit withoot ma
Saiturday yet, and I'm no to begin noo.'"
"She was aye a richt-thinkin' woman, Rachel, there's nae mistake o'
that; a' wonder hoo her son is gettin' on wi' that fairm he's
takin'; a' doot it's rack-rented."
It was an honest, satisfying conversation, and reminded one of the
parish of Drumtochty, being both _quoad sacra_ and _quoad
civilia_.
When the Highlanders came in, Burnbrae was deposed after one
encounter, and the minister was reduced to a state of timid
suggestion. There were days when they would not speak one word, and
were understood to be lost in meditation; on others they broke in on
any conversation that was going from levels beyond the imagination
of Drumtochty. Had this happened in the Auld Manse, Drumsheugh would
have taken for granted that Donald was "feeling sober" (ill), and
recommended the bottle which cured him of "a hoast" (cough) in the
fifties. But the Free Kirk had been taught that the Highlanders were
unapproachable in spiritual attainments, and even Burnbrae took his
discipline meekly.
"It wes a mercy the mune changed last week, Maister Menzies, or a'm
thinkin' it hed been a weet sacrament."
Donald came out of a maze, where he had been wandering in great
peace.
"I wass not hearing that the moon had anything to do in the matter.
Oh no, but he wass bound hand and foot by a mighty man."
"Wha was bund? A'm no juist followin' ye, Maister Menzies."
"The Prince of the power of the air. Oh yes, and he shall not be
loosed till the occasion be over. I hef had a sign." After which
conversation on the weather languished.
Perhaps the minister fared worse in an attempt to extract a
certificate of efficiency from Lachlan Campbell in favour of a
rhetorical young preacher.
"A fery nice speaker, and well pleased with himself. But I would be
thinking, when he wass giving his images. Oh yes, I would be
thinking. There was a laddie feeshing in the burn before my house,
and a fery pretty laddie he wass. He had a rod and a string, and he
threw his line peautiful. It wass a great peety he had no hook, for
it iss a want, and you do not catch many fish without a hook. But I
shall be glad that you are pleased, sir, and all the elders."
These were only passing incidents, and left no trace, but the rebuke
Donald gave to Burnbrae will be told while an elder lives. One of
the last of the old mystical school, which trace their descent from
Samuel Rutherford, had described the great mystery of our Faith with
such insight and pathos, that Donald had stood by the table weeping
gently, and found himself afterwards in the manse, he knew not how.
The silence was more than could be borne, and his former
responsibility fell on Burnbrae.
"It wes wonnerful, and I canna mind hearing the like o' yon at the
tables; but I wes sorry to see the Doctor sae failed. He wes bent
twa fad; a' doot it's a titch o' rheumatism, or maybe lumbago."
Johannine men are subject to sudden flashes of anger, and Donald
blazed.
"Bent down with rheumatism, iss that what you say? Oh yes, it will
be rheumatism. Hass the sight of your eyes left you, and hef you no
discernment? Did ye not see that he was bowed to the very table with
the power of the Word? for it was a fire in his bones, and he was
baptised with the Holy Ghost."
When the elders gathered in the vestry, the minister asked what time
the preacher might have for his evening sermon, and Donald again
burst forth:
"I am told that in towns the Gospel goes by minutes, like the trains
at the stations; but there iss no time-table here, for we shall wait
till the sun goes down to hear all things God will be sending by His
servant."
Good memories differ about the text that Sacrament evening, and the
length of the sermon, but all hold as a treasure for ever what
happened when the book was closed. The people were hushed into a
quiet that might be felt, and the old man, swayed by the spirit of
the Prophets, began to repeat the blessings and curses in the Bible
between Genesis and Revelation, and after each pair he cried with
heart-piercing voice, "Choose this day which ye will take," till
Donald could contain himself no longer.
"Here iss the man who hass deserved all the curses, and here iss the
man who chooses all the blessings."
Our fathers had no turn for sensation, but they had an unerring
sense of a spiritual situation. The preacher paused for five
seconds, while no man could breathe, and then lifting up his hand to
Heaven he said, with an indescribable authority and tenderness, "The
Lord fulfil the desire of your heart both in this world and in that
which is to come."
Then the congregation sang, after the ancient custom of our parts,
"Now blessed be the Lord our God,
The God of Israel,"
and Donald's face was one glory, because he saw in the soft evening
light of the upper window the angels of God ascending and descending
upon the Son of man.
It was after this that the Free Kirk minister occupied six months in
proving that Moses did not write Deuteronomy, and Lachlan was trying
for the same period to have the minister removed from Drumtochty.
Donald, deprived by one stroke of both his friends, fell back on me,
and told me many things I loved to hear, although they were beyond
my comprehension.
"It wass not always so with me as it iss this day, for I once had no
ear for God's voice, and my eyes were holden that I saw not the
spiritual world. But sore sickness came upon me, and I wass nigh
unto death, and my soul awoke within me and began to cry like a
child for its mother. All my days I had lived on Loch Tay, and now I
thought of the other country into which I would hef to be going,
where I had no nest, and my soul would be driven to and fro in the
darkness as a bird on the moor of Rannoch.
"Janet sent for the minister, and he wass fery kind, and he spoke
about my sickness and my farm, and I said nothing. For I wass hoping
he would tell me what I wass to do for my soul. But he began upon
the sheep market at Amulree, and I knew he wass also in the dark.
After he left I turned my face to the wall and wept.
"Next morning wass the Sabbath, and I said to Janet:
"'Wrap me in my plaid, and put me in a cart, and take me to
Aberfeldy.' 'And what will ye be doing at Aberfeldy? and you will
die on the road.' 'There iss,' said I, 'a man there who knows the
way of the soul, and it iss better to die with my face to the
light.'
"They set me in a corner of the church where I wass thinking no man
could see me, and I cried in my heart without ceasing, 'Lord, send
me--send me a word from Thy mouth.'
"When the minister came into the pulpit he gave me a strange look,
and this wass his text, 'Loose him and let him go.'
"As he preached I knew I wass Lazurus, with the darkness of the
grave around me, and my soul straitly bound. I could do nothing, but
I wass longing with all my strength.
"Then the minister stopped, and he said:
"There iss a man in this church, and he will know himself who it
iss. When I came in this morning I saw a shadow on his face, and I
knew not whether it was the wing of the Angel of Life or the Angel
of Death passing over him, but the Lord has made it plain to me, and
I see the silver feathers of the Angel of the Covenant, and this
shall be a sign unto that man, 'Loose him and let him go.'"
"While he wass still speaking I felt my soul carried out into the
light of God's face, and my grave clothes were taken off one by one
as Janet would unwind my plaid, and I stood a living man before
Christ.
"It wass a sweet June day as we drove home, and I lay in sunshine,
and every bird that sang, and the burnies by the roadside, and the
rustling of the birch leaves in the wind--oh yes, and the sound of
the horse's feet were saying, 'Loose him and let him go.'
"Loch Tay looked black angry as we came by its side in the morning,
and I said to Janet:
"'It iss the Dead Sea, and I shall be as Sodom and Gomorrah;' but in
the evening it wass as a sea of glass mingled with fire, and I heard
the song of Moses and the Lamb sweeping over the Loch, but this wass
still the sweetest word to me, 'Loose him and let him go.'"
II
AGAINST PRINCIPALITIES AND POWERS
The powers of darkness had been making a dead set upon Donald all
winter, and towards spring he began to lose hope. He came to the
Cottage once a week with news from the seat of war, and I could
distinguish three zones of depression. Within the first he bewailed
his inveterate attachment to this world, and his absolute
indifference to spiritual things, and was content to describe
himself as Achan. The sign that he had entered the second was a
recurring reference to apostacy, and then you had the melancholy
satisfaction of meeting the living representative of Simon Peter.
When he passed into the last zone of the Purgatorio, Donald was
beyond speech, and simply allowed one to gather from allusions to
thirty pieces of silver that he was Judas Iscariot.
So long as it was only Achan or Simon Peter that came to sit with
me, one was not gravely concerned, but Judas Iscariot meant that
Donald had entered the Valley of the Shadow.
He made a spirited rally at the Winter Sacrament, and distinguished
himself greatly on the evening of the Fast day. Being asked to pray,
as a recognition of comparative cheerfulness, Donald continued for
five and twenty minutes, and unfolded the works of the Devil in such
minute and vivid detail that Burnbrae talks about it to this day,
and Lachlan Campbell, although an expert in this department,
confessed astonishment. It was a mighty wrestle, and it was perhaps
natural that Donald should groan heavily at regular intervals, and
acquaint the meeting how the conflict went, but the younger people
were much shaken, and the edification even of the serious was not
without reserve.
While Donald still lingered on the field of battle to gather the
spoils and guard against any sudden return of the enemy, the elders
had a hurried consultation in the vestry, and Burnbrae put the
position with admirable force.
"Naebody can deny that it wes a maist extraordinary prayer, and it
passes me hoo he kens sae muckle aboot the Deevil. In fac' it's a
preevilege tae hae sic an experienced hand among us, and I wudna
offend Donald Menzies for onything. But yon groanin' wes a wee
thingie discomposin', and when he said, kind o' confidential, 'He's
losing his grup,' ma ain fouk cudna keep their coontenance. Weel, I
wes thinkin' that the best plan wud be for Maister Campbell juist
tae give a bit advice and tell Donald that we're thankfu' to hear
him at the meeting, and michty lifted wi' his peteetions, but it wud
be an obleegation gin he wud leave oot the groans and tell us
aifterwards what wes gaein' on, maybe in the Session."
Lachlan accepted his commission with quite unusual diffidence, and
offered a very free translation on the way home.
"It wass a mercy to hef you at the meeting this night, Donald
Menzies, for I saw that Satan had come in great strength, and it iss
not every man that can withstand him. But you will not be ignorant
of his devices; oh no, you will be knowing them fery well. Satan had
not much to say before the prayer wass done, and I will not be
expecting to see him again at this occasion. It wass the elders
said, 'Donald Menzies hass trampled Satan under foot.' Oh yes, and
fery glad men they were, for it iss not given to them. But I would
be thinking iss it good to let the Devil hear you groaning in the
battle, and I would be wishing that you had kept all your groans and
given them to me on the road."
"Iss it the groans you are not liking?" retorted Donald, stung by
this unexpected criticism. "And what iss wrong with groaning? But I
hef the Scripture, and I will not be caring what you say, Lachlan
Campbell."
"If you hef a warrant for groaning, it iss this man that will be
glad to hear it, for I am not remembering that passage."
"Maybe you hef not read 'Maketh intercession with groanings,' but it
iss a fery good Scripture, and it iss in my Bible."
"All Scripture iss good, Donald Menzies, but it iss not lawful to
divide Scripture, and it will read in my Bible, 'groanings which
cannot be uttered,' and I wass saying this would be the best way
with your groans."
Donald came in to tell me how his companion in arms had treated him,
and was still sore.
"He iss in the bondage of the letter these days, for he will be
always talking about Moses with the minister, and I am not hearing
that iss good for the soul."
If even Lachlan could not attain to Donald, it was perhaps no
discredit that the Drumtochty mind was at times hopelessly
perplexed.
"He's a gude cratur and terrible gifted in prayer," Netherton
explained to Burnbrae after a prayer-meeting, when Donald had
temporarily abandoned Satan and given himself to autobiography, "but
yon wesna a verra ceevil way to speak aboot his faither and mither."
"A' doot yir imaginin', Netherton. Donald never mentioned his fouk
the nicht, and it's no likely he wud in the prayer-meeting."
"There's nae imaginin' aboot it; a' heard him wi' ma ain ears say
twice, 'My father was an Amorite, and my mother a Hittite.' I'll
take my aith on it. Noo, a' dinna ken Donald's forbears masel, for
he's frae Tayside, but supposin' they were as bad as bad cud be,
it's no for him to blacken his ain blood, and him an Elder."
"Toots, Netherton, yir aff it a' thegither. Div ye no see yon's
Bible langidge oot o' a Prophet, or maybe Kings, and Donald wes
usin't in a feegurative capaucity?"
"Feegurative or no feegurative, Burnbrae, it disna maitter; it's a
peetifu' job howking (digging) thro' the Bible for ill words tae
misca yir fouk wi' afore the public."
Burnbrae gave up the contest in despair, feeling himself that Old
Testament allusions were risky, and that Donald's quotation was less
than felicitous.
Donald's prayers were not known outside the Free Kirk circle, but
his encounters with the evil one were public property, and caused a
general shudder. Drumtochty was never sure who might not be
listening, and considered that it was safer not to meddle with
certain nameless people. But Donald waged an open warfare in every
corner of the parish, in the Kirk, by the wayside, in his house, on
the road to market, and was ready to give any one the benefit of his
experiences.
"Donald Menzies is in yonder," said Hillocks, pointing to the
smithy, whose fire sent fitful gleams across the dark road, "and
he's carryin' on maist fearsome. Ye wud think tae hear him speak
that auld Hornie wes gaein' louse in the parish; it sent a grue
(shiver) doon ma back. Faigs, it's no cannie to be muckle wi' the
body, for the Deil and Donald seem never separate. Hear him noo,
hear him."
"Oh yes," said Donald, addressing the smith and two horror-stricken
ploughmen, "I hef seen him, and he hass withstood me on the road. It
wass late, and I wass thinking on the shepherd and the sheep, and
Satan will come out from the wood below Hillocks' farm-house ('Gude
preserve us,' from Hillocks) and say, 'That word is not for you,
Donald Menzies,' But I wass strong that night, and I said, 'Neither
shall any pluck them out of my hand,' and he will not wait long
after that, oh no, and I did not follow him into the wood."
The smith, released by the conclusion of the tale, blew a mighty
blast, and the fire burst into a red blaze, throwing into relief the
black figure of the smith and the white faces of the ploughmen;
glancing from the teeth of harrows, and the blades of scythes, and
the cruel knives of reaping machines, and from instruments with
triple prongs; and lighting up with a hideous glare the black sooty
recesses of the smithy.
"Keep's a'," whispered Hillocks, clutching my arm, "it's little
better than the ill place. I wish to gudeness I wes safe in ma ain
hoose."
These were only indecisive skirmishes, for one evening Donald came
to my den with despair written on every feature, and I knew that
fighting had begun at the centre, and that he was worsted.
It was half an hour before he became articulate, during which time
he sighed as if the end of all things had come, and I caught the
word scapegoat twice, but at last he told me that he had resigned
his eldership, and would absent himself in future from the Free
Kirk.
"It hass been a weary winter when minister and people hef gone into
captivity, and on Sabbath the word wass taken altogether from the
minister's mouth, and he spake a language which we understood not
[it was the first of three sermons on the Hexateuch, and had treated
of the Jehovistic and Elohistic documents with much learning], and I
will be asking all the way back, 'Iss it I?' 'Iss it I?'