singing a psalm. It was our evening sacrifice, and whilst the sun was
sinking ayont the Pentlands. The voice of a godly and much-tried woman,
Euphan Thriepland, ascended clear and full of heavenly melody above the
rest. The prison-door was suddenly thrown open, and we at first
imagined--alas!--that our captivity had ended; but it was not so. The
Lord saw meet to put us to still severer trials. We were marched, under
the command of Colonel Douglas, to Leith. This poor woman, who was
labouring under great bodily weakness, pled hard and strove sair for
leave to stay behind. But she was mounted behind a corporal, and, amidst
many an obscene jest and much blasphemous language, conveyed to the pier
at Leith."
Next morning, we find the whole prisoners put up in the most indecent
and uncomfortable manner in two rooms of the Tolbooth at Burntisland,
and undergoing an examination before the Laird of Gosford, as to their
opinions of allegiance and absolute supremacy. Forty acknowledged King
James as head of our Presbyterian Church, and superior lord over all law
and authority in the kingdom; and the forty-first was standing in the
presence of the oath administrator, with his hand uplifted, and in the
very act of following the example of his brethren, when his aunt, Euphan
Thriepland, _alias_ M'Birnie (for her husband's name was such),
advancing with difficulty towards the table, thus proceeded, with
violent gesticulation, and in a firm tone of voice, to address her
nephew. Here we use the words of the Laird of Balmagechan, who has given
the whole scene with singular force and fidelity:--
"Jamie M'Birnie, what's that ye're about? Down wi' yer hand, man!--down
wi' yer hand, this moment!--or ye may weel expect it to rot aff by the
shackle-bane, man! Ye're but a young man, Jamie, and muckle atweel ye
seem to require counsel. Had Peter M'Birnie, yer worthy faither--now
with his Maker--stood where I now (though with tottering joints and a
feeble voice) stand, he would neither have held his peace nor withheld
his admonition. He would rather hae seen that hand--now stretched oot to
abjure Christ and his Covenanted Kirk--burning and frying in the hettest
flame, than hae witnessed the waefu sicht I now see. It's weel wi'
him!--oh, it's weel wi' him, that his eyes are shut on earth, and that,
in heaven, there is nae annoyance; otherwise, sair, sair would his heart
hae been, to see my sister's wean devoting himsel wi' his ain uplifted
hand to Satan. O Jamie, what says the Bible? It says awfu things to you,
Jamie--it says, 'If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, for it is
better to go into heaven with one eye, than that the whole body'--Jamie,
mark that! the whole body--'should be cast into hell fire.' And is not
an eye dearer than a hand, and must not the dearest member be
sacrificed, if it stand in the way of the soul's salvation? Ye may own
King James, and muckle thanks ye'll get for't; and ye may abjure and
renounce Christ, and ye'll sune see wha will gain or lose by that. And
ye may adhere to the king's curates, or to the bishops' curates, and
starve at the breast o' a _yeld_, a milkless mither; but tak tent that
ye dinna feed and nourish in your bosom a fearful _worm_, that winna
die nor lie still, but will gnaw and gnaw as lang as the fire burns and
isna quenched."
Jamie M'Birnie's hand continued to fall gradually during this address,
and, when his aunt had concluded, his arm hung pendulous and seemingly
powerless by his side. At this instant, a young woman of uncommon
personal attractions was seen hurrying from a boat which had just
landed. She had scarcely set foot on shore, when a commotion was
observed in the court, and a face full of anguish and despair was
presented to the party assembled in the Tolbooth. The Laird of Gosford,
after cursing the aunt for an old Covenanting hag, had just put the
question of abjuration to Jamie for the last time. Jamie now remained
inflexible, and was immediately ordered to be handcuffed, and marched
with the rest to Dunnottar Castle. Hereupon, as the Laird of Balmagechan
expresses it--The maiden, who was fair to look upon, pushed herself
suddenly forward, and rushed into the arms of her lover--for such he
behoved, from her words and her conduct, to be.
"O Jamie, Jamie, tak the oath--tak the oath--tak ony oath--tak onything;
do a' that they bid you do; say a' that they bid ye say--rather than
leave yer ain Jeanie Wilson to break her heart wi' downright greeting. O
Jamie, we were to be married, ye ken, at Martinmas; and I have athing
ready, and the bit house is taen, and ye can work outby, and I can spin
within, and--and--but, O Jamie, speak, man, just speak, and say ye'll
tak the oath. Haud up yer hand!" Hereupon she lifted his seemingly
powerless right hand, till it came to a level with his head. "Look
there, sir," addressing Gosford; "look there--swear him, man, swear him,
man; he's willing, dinna ye see, to swear--what for dinna ye swear him?"
Being informed that the oath must be voluntary, and his hand not be
propped, with great reluctance, and looking in Jamie's face with a look
of inexpressible persuasion, she whispered something in his ear which
was inaudible, and retired a few paces from her station. No sooner,
however, had she done so, than the hand, as if by the law of
gravitation, resumed its former position, and a loud scream indicated
that the young heart of Jeanie had found a temporary stillness in
insensibility. The poor creature was borne out of court, amidst some
sympathy even from the hardened and merciless soldiery; and Jamie, now a
stupid, passive clod, was handcuffed, and ordered to march.
Lieutenant Beaton of Kilrennie commanded the detachment to which was
intrusted the execution of the higher orders. They were all compelled to
walk, with the exception of Euphan Thriepland, who was mounted, as
formerly, behind a corporal, together with a poor lame schoolmaster,
whose feet were closely and most cruelly tied down to the sides of a
wild and unbroken colt. Upon these two helpless and tormented beings,
principally, did it please and amuse the commander and his men to
exercise their wit and expend their jeers. At one time the schoolmaster
was likened to a perched radish, and again he was "riding the stang" for
his sins. Euphemia was designated "Dame Grunt," in humane allusion, no
doubt, to the painful position which she occupied _a la croupe_, and
which compelled her frequently to groan. Again she was accosted as the
"mother of all saints," and the "true Blue Whigamore." One observed that
the dominie would look wonderfully handsome in boots (referring, no
doubt, to the instrument of torture); and another observed that the lady
would wondrous well become a St Johnstone's cravat--namely, a halter.
The foot-soldiers, who were armed with long pikes, made excellent
application of their weapons; and ever and anon, as some weary wretch
lagged behind, or some hungry or thirsty one seemed inclined to turn
aside to procure food or drink, the "_argumentum a posteriori_" was
applied vigorously and unsparingly. The people of Fife, who were
universally favourably disposed toward the prisoners, flocked in upon
their retired and out-of-the-way route with every kind of provision and
refreshment; but, instead of being permitted to bestow them where they
were needed, they were met with taunts, and in some cases with blows;
and the food which was intended for the prisoners was uniformly devoured
by their tormentors, or wasted and destroyed in the very presence, and
under the very eyes, of those who were almost famishing for hunger. A
strolling piper, who happened to be crossing their route, was sportively
enlisted into their service, and compelled, like Barton at Bannockburn,
to play, very much to his own annoyance, such tunes as "The Whigs o'
Fife," well known to be offensive to the friends of the Covenant.
"It was, indeed," says the Rev. Mr Frazer, with more of naivete and
good-humour than might have been expected--"it was, indeed, an uncommon
sight to behold a large and mixed company of men and women, but
indifferently clad and ill-assorted, marching over muirs and hill-sides,
with a roaring bagpipe at their tail; the piper puffing and blowing, and
ever and anon casting a suspicious look behind, towards the pike points,
which were occasionally applied to his person in a manner the least
ceremonious possible." Might not this group form an appropriate subject
for an Allan, a Wilkie, or a Harvey? About dusk the party had skirted
the Lomonts, and were billeted for the night in the poor, but
pleasantly-situated, village of Freuchie. Each head of a family was made
answerable with his property and life for the persons of those prisoners
who were committed to his charge. And it is worthy of notice that not
one of those poor oppressed and insulted sufferers--who were all day
long endeavouring to escape--once attempted to implicate a single
individual amongst all their kind and hospitable landlords.
Upon rallying their numbers next morning, it was found that one aged
individual, a forebear of ours, of the name of Watson, had died of
over-fatigue; and that the poor schoolmaster was so much injured by his
horsemanship, that he could not possibly advance farther. When they
arrived at the south ferry of the Tay, the tide did not serve, and a
most cruel and barbarous scene was exhibited. A young man, the son of
the Rev. Mr Frazer, with the view of making interest for his father's
release, had endeavoured to escape during the night. He was challenged
by a sentinel in passing along the rocks, and not answering instantly,
was immediately shot dead on the spot. His head was cut from the body,
and with the return of day, presented to the unfortunate and horrified
parent, with these words, "There's the gallows face of your son!" Mr
Frazer's own reflections on this scene deserve to be extracted from his
written manuscripts:--"O my Charles! my dear, heart-broken Charles! thy
mother's joy and thy father's hope, and prop, and comfort! To be thus
deprived of thee, and for ever! But I am wrong, very wrong: I had thee
only as a loan from the Lord; and I know well that he gives--
'And when he takes away,
He takes but what he gave.'
Thou hast perished in the ranks amidst the soldiers of Christ; and I
doubt not that when the Captain of our salvation shall appear, thou wilt
appear with him."
It would only fatigue and disgust the reader to give one tithe of the
atrocities which were perpetrated during the whole march to Dunnottar
Castle. Really, the manuscript narratives here concur in such statements
as are calculated to make us conceive favourably of Hottentots and
cannibals: children torn from their mothers' arms, and transfixed on
pike points; a woman in labour thrown into a pool in the North Esk;
lighted matches applied betwixt the fingers of old Euphan Thriepland,
because she ventured to denounce such atrocities, &c. &c. &c. Come we,
then, after three or four days' march, to Dunnottar Castle.
The Castle of Dunnottar stands upon a rocky peninsula; and at the time
of which we are writing was only accessible by a drawbridge. It has been
in successive years the scene of much contention and bloodshed. It was
here that Sir William Wallace is said to have burned to the death not
less than four thousand Southrons in one night. It was within these
fire-seared and blackened walls that the unfortunate Marquis of Montrose
renewed the horrors of conflagration; and it was here, too, that the
brave Ogilvy so long and so determinedly defended our Scottish regalia
against the soldiers of the Commonwealth. It was, too, from out these
walls, that Mrs Granger, wife of the minister of Kinneff, conveyed away,
packed up and concealed amidst a bundle of clothes, the emblems of
Scottish independence; and that, after having concealed them till the
Restoration, at one time beneath the pulpit, and at another betwixt the
plies of a double-bottomed bed, she returned them, upon the accession of
Charles II., to Mr Ogilvy, who, along with the Earl Marischal and keeper
of the regalia, Keith, were rewarded for their fidelity, the one with a
baronetcy, and the other with the earldom of Kintire; whilst neither
this woman nor her husband, nor any of their posterity, have once yet
been visited by any mark of royal or national gratitude:--
"Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores."
It is thus that the great man stands in the light of the small, and that
the royal vision is prevented from penetrating beyond the objects in
immediate juxtaposition.
This Castle of Dunnottar, which had so recently been honoured as the
receptacle of the regalia, was now about to be converted into a state
prison, and, like the Bass, to become subservient to the views of an
alarmed and fluctuating council, at a time when the rebellion of the
unfortunate Monmouth in England, and of the haughty and ill-advised
Argyle in Scotland, had set the whole kingdom in a ferment, either of
hope or apprehension. Mr Frazer's narrative of the entrance of the
prisoners into the castle, upon Sabbath the 24th day of May, 1685, is
sufficiently graphic and intelligible:--
"We passed along," says he, "a narrow way or drawbridge, and from thence
ascended under a covered road towards the castle, which stands high up,
and looks down upon the sea from three of its sides. A person in the
garb of a jailer, with a bunch of large and rusty keys in his hand,
opened a door on the seaward side of the building, and we were very
rudely and insultingly commanded to enter. 'Kennel up, there, kennel up,
ye dogs of the Covenant!' were amongst the best terms which were applied
to us.
"The Laird of Balmagechan being amongst the last to penetrate into this
abode of stench, damp, darkness, suffocation, and death, a soldier made
a lunge at him with the point of his pike. Balmagechan was a peaceable
man and a Christian; but this was somewhat too much--so, turning round
in an instant, and closing at once with his insulting tormentor, he
fairly wrested the pike from the soldier's grasp, and, splintering it in
shivers over his head, he added, 'Tak, then, that in the meantime, thou
devil's gaet, to teach thee better manners!' The apartment into which,
with scarcely room to stand, 177 (our numbers having thus diminished
from 200, on the march) human beings were thrust was, in fact, dug out
of the rock, and, unless by a small narrow window towards the sea, had
no means of admitting either light or air. As the night advanced, the
heat became intolerable, and a sense of suffocation, the most painful of
any to which our frail nature can be exposed, seemed to threaten an
excruciating, if not an immediate death. In vain we knocked, and called
upon the guard, and implored a little air, and asked water, for God and
mercy's sake. We were only answered by scoffs and jeers. At last nature,
in many instances being entirely worn out, gave way. Some turned their
heads over upon the shoulder of the persons nearest them, as if in the
act of drinking water, and expired--others lost their reason entirely,
struck out furiously around them, tore their own hair and that of
others, and then went off in strong and hideous convulsions. Happier
were they, at this awful midnight hour, who entered this dungeon with a
feeble step, and in a wasted state of bodily strength; for _their_
struggle was short, and their death comparatively easy--_they_ died ere
midnight. But far otherwise was it with many upon whom God had bestowed
youth, health, and unimpaired strength. They stood the contest long; and
frequently, after they appeared to be dead, awoke again in renewed
strength, and ten times increased suffering. After the fatal discovery
was made, that the door was not to be opened, the rush toward the
opposite window became absolutely intolerable. The feeble were trodden
down, and even the strong wasted their strength in contending with each
other.
"Morning at last dawned, and our prison-door flew suddenly open. The
governor's lady had learned our fate; and, even at the risk of giving
offence to her lord, she had ordered us air and water, whilst _he still
slept_. 'O woman, woman,' exclaims Mr Quentin Dick, in his MS. before
me, 'thou art, and hast ever been, an angel. What does not man--what do
not we owe thee?'"
In a word, more than the half perished on that dreadful night, and
amongst those who were ultimately liberated by order in council, were
the individuals who have been particularised in this narrative.
Reader, we inquire not into thy political creed--we ask not whether thou
art a Whig or a Tory, a Conservative or a Radical--we can allow thee to
be an honest and conscientious man, on all these suppositions: all we
ask of thee is this, "_Art thou a man?_" The inference is inevitable.
Perhaps some may wish to know what became of Euphan Thriepland, Jamie
M'Birnie, and Jeanie Wilson. We are happy that, owing to an accidental
occurrence, we can throw some light upon the subject. Last time we were
in Dumfries-shire, and in Closeburn, our native parish, we read upon the
door of a change-house, in the village of Croalchapel, this inscription,
"Whisky, Ale, and British Spirits, sold here, by James M'Birnie." The
coincidence of the name revived my long-obscured recollection of the
past, and led, in fact, ultimately to the whole of this narrative. We
learned, from an old bedrid woman, the grandmother of this James, that
he of Dunnottar celebrity had returned to Edinburgh and married Jeanie
Wilson; that he had taken auld aunt Euphan home to their dwelling; and
had been employed for several years after the Revolution, as a nursery
and seeds-man, in Edinburgh; that, having realised a competency, they
had ultimately retired to their native parish of Closeburn, and had
tenanted a small farm called Stepends; that their son had been a drover,
and unsuccessful even to bankruptcy; and that the family were now
reduced to the condition which we beheld.
III.--PEDEN'S FAREWELL SERMON.
We believe there never was such a sad Sabbath witnessed, as that upon
which nearly four hundred of the Established clergy of Scotland preached
their farewell sermons and addresses to their several congregations. It
was a day, as the historians of that period express it, of "wailing, and
of loud lamentation, as the weeping of Jazer, when the lords of the
heathen had broken down her principal plants; and as the mourning of
Rachel, who wept for her children, and would not be comforted."
On the 4th day of October, 1662, a council, under the commission of the
infatuated and ill-advised Middleton, was held at Glasgow; and, in an
hour of brutal intoxication, it was resolved and decreed that all those
ministers of the Church of Scotland who had, by a popular election,
entered upon their cures since the year 1649, should, in the first
instance, be arrested, nor permitted to resume their pulpits, or draw
their stipends, till they had received a presentation at the hands of
the lay patrons, and submitted to induction from the diocesan bishop. In
other words, Presbytery, which had been so dearly purchased, and was so
acceptable to the people of Scotland, was to be superseded by Prelacy;
and the mandate of the prince, or of his privy council, was to be
considered in future as _law_, in all matters whether civil or
ecclesiastical. It was not to be supposed that the descendants and
admirers of Knox, and Hamilton, and Welsh, and Melville could calmly and
passively submit to this; and accordingly the 20th day of October--the
last Sabbath which, without conformity to the orders in council, the
proscribed ministers were permitted to preach--was a day anticipated
with anxious feelings, and afterwards remembered to their dying day, by
all who witnessed it. It was our fortune, in early life, to be
acquainted with an old man, upwards of ninety, an inhabitant of the
village of Glenluce, whose grandfather was actually present at the
farewell or parting sermon which Mr Peden, the author of the famous
prophecies which bear his name, delivered on this occasion to his
parishioners. We have conversed with this aged chronicler so frequently
and so fully upon the subject, that we believe we can give a pretty
faithful report of what was then delivered by Peden.
I remember well (continued, according to my authority, the old
chronicler)--I mind it well, it seems but as yesterday--the morning of
this truly awful and not-to-be-forgotten day. It had been rain in the
night-time, and the morning was dark and cloudy--the mist trailed like
the smoke o' a furnace, white and ragged, alang the hill-taps. The
heavens above seemed, as it were, to scowl upon the earth beneath. I
rose early, as was my wont on the Sabbath morning, and hitched away
towards the tap o' the Briock. I had only continued, it micht be, an
hour in private meditation and prayer, when I heard the eight-o'clock
bells beginning to toll. Indeed, I could hear, from the place where I
was, I may say, every bell in the presbytery. The sound o' these bells
is still in my ears--it was unusually sweet and melodious; and yet there
was something very melancholy in the sound. I thought on the blood of
the saints by which these bells had been purchased; upon the many souls,
now gone to a better place, who had been summoned to a preached gospel
by these bells; and I thought, too, on the sad alteration which a few
hours would produce, when the pulpits would be deserted by the worthy
Presbyterian ministers who filled them, and be filled, it micht be, by
Prelatical curates--wolves in sheep's clothing, and fushionless
preachers at the best. Even at this early hour, I could see, every here
and there, blue bonnets, and black-and-white plaids, and scarlet
mantles, mixing with and coming forth every now and then from the broken
and creeping mist. The Lord's own covenanted flock were e'en gaun awa to
pluck a mouthfu (it micht be the last) o' hale-some and sanctified
pasture.
The doors o' the kirk o' New Luce had been thrown open early in the
morning; but, owing to an immense concourse of people, a tent had been
latterly erected on the brow face, immediately opposite to the
kirk-stile, and the multitude had settled, and were, when we arrived,
settling down, like bees around their queen, on all sides of it. Having
advanced suddenly over the height, and come all at once within view of
this goodly assembly, I found them engaged, as was their customary, till
the minister's appearance, in psalm-singing. A portion of the
Thirty-second Psalm had been selected by the precentor, and he was in
the act of _giving out_, as it is termed, these appropriate and
comforting lines--
"Thou art my hiding-place; thou shalt
From trouble set me free;
And with songs of deliverance
About shall compass me"--
when Peden made his appearance above the brow of the adjoining linn,
where he had probably been engaged for some time in preparatory and
private devotion. He advanced with the pulpit Bible under his arm, and
with a rapid, though occasionally a hesitating, step. All eyes were at
once turned upon him; but he seemed lost in meditation, and altogether
careless or unconscious of his exposed situation. His figure was
diminutive, but his frame athletic and his step elastic. He wore a blue
bonnet, from beneath which his dark hair flowed out over his shoulders,
long, lank, and dishevelled. His complexion was sallow, but his eyes
dark, keen, and penetrating. He had neither gown nor band, but had his
shirt-neck tied up with a narrow stock of uncommon whiteness. Thus
habited, he approached the congregation, who rose up to make way for
him, ascended the ladder attached to the back-door of the tent, and
forthwith proceeded to the duties of the day.
"Therefore watch and remember; for the space of three years I ceased not
to warn every one, night and day, with tears."
These words of the text were read out in a firm, though somewhat shrill
and squeaking tone of voice; and as he lifted up his eyes from the
sacred page, and looked east and west around him, there was a general
preparatory cough, and adjustment of position and dress, which clearly
bespoke the protracted attention which was about to be given. And,
truly, although he continued to discourse from twelve o'clock till
dusk, I cannot say that I felt tired or hungry. Nor did it appear that
the speaker's strength or matter failed him--nay, he even rose into a
degree of fervid and impressive eloquence towards the close which none
who were present ever heard equalled.