new comers or not, I will not pretend to affirm; but the arrival had
scarcely been accomplished, ere every room and recess of the manse was
explored, and the neat and beautiful gardens were traversed, and the
glebe surveyed, and the "bonny burnside" visited, and the water
laved from its channel. It was, in truth, a new world to its young
visitants--and appeared, in the superior house accommodation and
rural amenity around, a terrestrial paradise, contrasted with the
circumscribed dwelling on the rocky shore of the German Ocean in the
north, or in the hamlet of Muirden amid the wilderness on the southern
border of Scotland. The sensations and sympathies of that day, and of
seven years which followed it, are yet fresh in my recollection, and
still swell in my heart, as marking the brightest and the happiest
period of my existence. Everything connected with that season of my
life, is still invested in my memory with charms which I have never
since tasted; and my young imagination clothed the vale of Eccleshall
with a brighter verdure and gayer flowers than ever to me bloomed
elsewhere on earth; and the heaven glowed in more resplendent sunshine
than has ever since poured its golden radiance on my vision--for it was
the sunshine of the young spirit still unclouded by a speck on its moral
horizon, and undimmed by a tear of real suffering and sorrow. Are such
youthful enchantments realities in the condition of man? or are they
visions of fancy, which are kindled by a gracious dispensation of
Providence, as a solace to the heart in riper years, when the cares, and
toils, and anxieties of manhood are strewed thick in our path, and frown
heavily in clouds over every stage of our progress?
In a few days after the house was put in order, the induction of Mr.
Douglas took place; and, although not so impressive as a Presbyterian
ordination, it was to all, his own family at least, an interesting
scene. A numerous assemblage of the parishioners and the reverend
brethren was convened; and the arrival of the latter, successively or in
groups--their friendly greetings in the parlour, their progress to the
church, and their solemn devoir during the service of the day--bore a
character of dignity and impressiveness which does not now generally
belong to such ceremonials. It may, perhaps, be unphilosophical, and not
in accordance with more modern sentiment, to ascribe any efficacy to
mere externals of costume. But it is a principle deeply implanted in
human nature, and not to be stifled by any cold reasoning in the matter,
that external decorum and suitable habiliments in any of the solemnities
of religion and the administration of justice, have a powerful effect
on the great mass of mankind, which it is not wise to cast aside or
contemn.
It were an easy, and would be a pleasant task, to paint some of the
scenes and characters which presented themselves to my observation even
at that early period of life; but it would be foreign to the object I
had in view, and would swell this humble narrative beyond the limits
assigned to it. That object was merely to delineate some of the features
in the character of a faithful Scottish clergyman, and to exhibit some
of the "lights and shadows" which cheer or cloud his existence, like
that of other men. I have traced his progress through various
alternations of adversity and prosperity, and have placed him in
circumstances such as usually fill up the measure of a Christian's
ambition--a position of usefulness to those within the sphere of his
influence, and of comfort in his temporal condition. During the space of
seven years, it was the lot of the individual who, in real life, was the
prototype of our story, to enjoy health, and strength, and domestic
felicity, and to discharge his duties with zeal and advantage in the
parish of Eccleshall; but, returning home after nightfall, from
attending a meeting of synod in Edinburgh, he caught a severe cold in
riding during a stormy night, which affected his lungs; and, ere long,
his indisposition assumed all the symptoms of pulmonary consumption.
Our tale of humble life now draws to a close. In the course of a few
months, the indisposition of Mr. Douglas assumed all the symptoms of
a settled consumption, which continued to present to his family and
friends the alternations of hope and of fear, that are the unfailing
companions of that subtle visitation. A sea voyage, native air, and all
other expedients suggested by skill or affection, were tried in vain;
and, in the fiftieth year of his age, the minister of Eccleshall
returned to the bosom of his family, with a full anticipation that the
distemper under which he lingered would, ere long, prove fatal. His
eyes sparkled with more than wonted lustre--his benevolent and
intelligent countenance glowed with the delicate hectic flush which so
often marks the progress of consumption--and the healthy, but not robust
frame of its victim, became emaciated and feeble. The fall of the year
179-, brought the chilling blasts of November to quench the flickering
spark of life in his bosom.
I was despatched one cold morning on the pony for Mr. Blythe, a
neighbouring clergyman and friend, to pay my father a visit. We rode
together from his manse to Eccleshall; and, on his arrival, he remained
alone with my father, engaged in those hallowed communings betwixt a
dying man and his spiritual comforter which it is unseemly and
sacrilegious in any case to disclose to mortal eyes. After a
considerable space thus spent, the whole family, including the servants,
were, by my father's directions, summoned to the side of his couch, in
the Red Room, where he reposed. When all were assembled, he intimated,
with composure and resignation, that he was conscious of the near
approach of death, and addressed a few sentences of admonition and
affection to them all; and, having done so, he requested Mr. Blythe to
unite with his household in prayer and praise--requesting that the last
hymn in the beautiful collection of sacred lyrics attached to our
national psalmody, might be sung. My father's pulpit psalm-book was
brought to Mr. Blythe. It is now before me, and I transcribe, from its
page, with a vivid recollection of the scene now referred to, one of the
solemn stanzas of that touching anthem:--
"The hour of my departure's come,
I hear the voice that calls me home;
At last, O Lord! let troubles cease,
And let thy servant die in peace!"
Mr. Blythe breathed, rather than sung the hymn, in the notes of
Luther's hundredth psalm; and he did it with the accompaniment of
tremulous and broken accents from all around the couch. The tears of
unutterable sorrow were shed by all, save my mother, whose grief could
not find a vent in tears. The voice of psalms was quenched amid the sobs
which burst from every heart; and, during the singing of the last
portion of it, the pious man who guided these orisons, sympathized so
deeply in the passion of lamentation which encompassed him, that his
accents were scarcely audible. The overpowering scene was closed by a
brief and pathetic prayer to the Most High, that to His dying servant he
would "stretch out His everlasting arms," and "to the friendless prove a
friend."
A few hours more, and the scene of life had passed away from the mortal
vision of William Douglas. I saw him die. It was the first deathbed I
had ever seen. There are many occurrences in life which fill the mind
with awe; but I have never been conscious of any emotion so profound and
solemn as that which possessed me during the last day of my father's
life. I witnessed the expiring flame in those dread moments when time is
blent with eternity, and when the last sigh seems to waft the immortal
spirit into a state of existence of which no adequate conception can be
formed. After all was over, and the breath of life had fled, I could not
believe my senses, that the prop of my affections was gone from my love
and my embrace, and that all which remained on earth of my father,
protector, and gentle monitor, was a lifeless wreck on the shore of
time. The world appeared to my young eye and heart as a wide scene of
mere darkness and desolation.
I will not dwell on subsequent events. The funeral obsequies performed,
the family councils were of a melancholy description. As to worldly
matters, it was ascertained that there was very little debt--not more
than could be fully paid by the current stipend and other limited
means; but, beyond this, all was a dreary blank. The only means of
subsistence to which my widowed mother could look with certainty, was
her small annuity of L25 a-year; while one only of the family (the
eldest boy, who had been educated as a surgeon, and had got an
appointment in the East India Company's service) could do ought to eke
out the means of life for the family. In the depth of her affliction,
she would say, with pious confidence, in the language of scripture, "I
have never seen the righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging their
bread."
But, leaving these painful retrospects, it may not be inappropriate to
note briefly the career of the earl of Bellersdale, whom I had occasion
to advert to in the earlier part of this story. He survived my father
many years, and spent his life devoid of domestic happiness or public
respect, in the accumulation of wealth and the pursuits of sordid
ambition. He lived detested and despised of mankind; and, dying
unlamented by any one human being, he destined the vast treasures which
he had amassed, to constant accumulation, not to be enjoyed fully by his
heirs, but for the creation of a princedom of indefinite extent and
wealth. But the honours of the Bellersdale family were speedily
tarnished. A spendthrift successor squandered all the revenues which he
could touch; and the last time I visited that part of the country, the
splendid mansion of Bellersdale Castle was stripped of all its movables;
the collections of many years of aristocratic pride--the pictures, the
statues, the very board destined for baronial hospitality--were all
brought to the hammer for payment of a tailor's bill for gewgaws to
grace a court pageant; and the nominal inheritor of the wide domains and
honours of his lordship's house, is an obscure and useless, though
good-natured dependent upon Hebrew usurers and Gentile pettifoggers--a
mere cumberer of the ground--a sycophant of the vulgar!
I need not point the moral of my tale.
THE SEERS' CAVE.
"The desert gave him visions wild--
The midnight wind came wild and dread,
Swell'd with the voices of the dead;
Far on the future battle-heath
His eye beheld the ranks of death:
Thus the lone seer, from mankind hurl'd,
Shap'd forth a disembodied world."
SCOTT.
In a certain wild and romantic glen in the Highlands of Scotland, there
is a cave opening beneath the brow of a huge overhanging cliff, and half
concealed by wreathed roots and wild festoons of brier and woodbine.
Several indistinct traditions remain of this cave's having been, in
former days, the abode of more than one holy hermit and gifted
seer. From these it derived the name which it commonly received,
Coir-nan-Taischatrin, or, The Cave of the Seers. At a little distance
within the glen, upon its sunny side, stood Castle Feracht. The
elevation on which it was built, gave it a prospect of the whole glen,
without detaching it from the hills and woods around; and a space had
been cleared of trees, so that, though completely surrounded, their
leafy screen only curtained, not obscured it.
Castle Feracht had long been the residence of a powerful branch of the
Macphersons. In that far retirement repeated generations of that daring
family had grown up and rushed forth, like young eagles from their
mountain-eyrie, to the field of strife; and not unfrequently never to
return. Such had been the fate of Angus Macpherson, in consequence of an
accidental encounter with the Gordons, between whom and the Macphersons
there had long subsisted a deadly feud. The death of his father had the
effect of fixing upon the mind of his son Ewan Macpherson a feeling of
stern and deadly resentment against all who had ever been the foes of
his turbulent clan. The stripling seemed to fret at the slow pace of
time, and to long for those years in which his arm might have sufficient
force to wield his father's broadsword, that he might rush to vengeance.
Such had often been his secret thoughts, when he at length reached a
period of life which made him able to put the suggestions of his
vindictive mind into execution; but a strong and arousing spirit, to
which we need not farther allude, passed over the land, and he forgot
for a time his personal animosities, in feelings and purposes of a more
general and absorbing nature. The powerful sympathy of thousands,
lending all their united energies towards one point, and laying aside
their individual pursuits, in order to contribute to the advancement of
that all-engrossing aim, laid its influence upon his soul, and he joined
the company, and aided in the general plans of those whom he would have
joyed to have met in deadly combat. Those against whom his hostility had
been less violent, he had learned to meet almost on terms of friendship,
though dashed at times with looks of coldness.
Among those half-forgiven foes, was Allan Cameron, a younger son of that
family of the Camerons which stood next in hereditary dignity to the
chief. The feud between the Macphersons and Camerons had never been very
deadly, and might, perhaps, have been forgotten, had Macpherson been
less accustomed to "rake up the ashes of his fathers." Cameron, though
still a very young man, had been obliged early to mingle with the world,
and had acquired that habit of ready decision which gives its possessor
an ascendancy over almost all with whom he has any intercourse.
Notwithstanding his youth, therefore, he was of considerable influence,
and being brought repeatedly into contact with Macpherson, there was
something of a shy and distant friendship between them. Cameron soon
perceived the coldness of Macpherson; but, as his own generous and
cultivated mind was far superior to the influence of prejudices, such
as had thrown a gloom over the whole being of Macpherson, he knew not,
never dreamt, that he was an object of secret dislike to him; and, with
his usual frank kind-heartedness, exerted himself to win the favour of a
man so distinguished for personal daring as the dark-browed lord of Glen
Feracht.
During the course of the operations in which they were engaged, the
decisive resolution and activity of Cameron had repeatedly attracted the
notice of Macpherson. Several times had he said to himself, "Were he not
a Cameron, he would be a gallant fellow!" At length, one day Macpherson
was severely wounded, and rescued from immediate death by the fearless
intrepidity and fiery promptness of Cameron. Macpherson's stern
sullenness was subdued. Ere yet recovered from his wounds, he clasped
Cameron's hand in token of cordial friendship; and so far laid aside his
distant coldness, as to invite Allan Cameron to accompany him to Glen
Feracht, when their present enterprise should have come to a
termination.
That termination came sooner than had been expected; and Cameron found
it not only convenient but prudent to accompany his fellow soldier to
the secret retreat of Castle Feracht. Cameron, an ardent admirer of
nature's beauties, yielded all his soul to the emotions inspired by the
wild and rugged entrance to Glen Feracht; nor could he suppress repeated
exclamations of delight when all the softer beauties of the quiet glen
opened upon his sight. Macpherson observed his admiration, and paced
over the daisied sward of his own valley with a more lofty step. Nor was
there less proud satisfaction in his heart and eye as he conducted his
guest to the hall of his fathers, and presented to him his only sister,
bidding her, at the same time, know in Allan Cameron the preserver of
her brother's life.
Elizabeth Macpherson rose and stepped blushing forward to receive her
young and gallant guest. She was just on the verge of womanhood--that
most fascinating period, when the tender and deep sensibilities of the
woman begin to give a timid dignity to the liveliness of the girl. The
open and rather ardent expression of her happy countenance was sweetly
repressed and tempered by the pure veil of maidenly modesty; yet her
graceful and commanding stature, the fire of her bright blue eye, and
her free and stately step and gesture, told that the spirit of her
fathers dwelt strong in the bosom of their lovely daughter. The heart of
Allan Cameron bounded and fluttered in his breast, as he advanced to
salute this beautiful mountain-nymph. He had braved, undaunted, the brow
of man when darkened with the frown of deadly hostility, but he shrank
with a new and undefinable tremor before the blushing smile of a
youthful maiden's cheek and eye. His self-possession seemed for once to
have forsaken him; and had Macpherson been acquainted with the human
heart, he must have seen that a new and irresistible feeling was rapidly
taking possession of his generous preserver's bosom. He saw in it,
however, but the awkwardness of a first interview between two strangers
of different sexes; and, in order to relieve Cameron, led him away to
see all the beautiful and romantic scenery of the glen, particularly
Coir-nan-Taischatrin.
But it was not long ere the graceful person and fascinating manners of
Cameron made an impression upon the artless and warm-hearted maiden. At
first, her brother's intimate friend, the preserver of his life, had, in
her view, just claims to her attention and grateful kindness; but she
soon felt that she esteemed, not to say loved him for himself. The
preserver of her brother would at all times have been dear to her; but
Allan Cameron woke in her heart a feeling inexpressibly more deep, more
tender, more intense.
Art had little influence in directing the conduct of the youthful
lovers; and it was not long till they experienced all that heaven of
delight which arises in the heart upon being assured of the mutual
return of affection. They had, however, kept their love hid from Ewan
Macpherson; both because his dark and gloomy manner forbade all
approaches to familiar confidence, and because, from the peculiar nature
of love, mystery and concealment are necessary to give it its highest
zest. Whatever might be the cause, certain it was that Allan Cameron and
Elizabeth Macpherson planned the little excursions, which they now
frequently made together, in such a manner that they might, as much as
possible, avoid being seen by Ewan.
At length, however, the suspicions of the proud chieftain were
aroused. It had never entered into his mind that Cameron might, by any
possibility, raise his presumptuous hopes so high as to dream of loving
the sister of Ewan Macpherson; and no sooner did he suspect the truth,
than he dashed from his mind every friendly and grateful feeling towards
the man who had saved his life; and saw in Allan Cameron only the
hereditary foe of his clan, whose daring insolence had attempted to
disgrace the name of Macpherson, by seeking to win the heart of its most
loftily descended maiden. Full of resentment at what he deemed so deep
an insult, he was ranging the groves and thickets of Glen Feracht in
quest of Cameron, like a wolf prowling for his unconscious victim.
The evening sun was at that time throwing his long lines of slanting
glory across the summits of the mountains, and lighting the clouds of
the west with a radiance too dazzling to be gazed upon, yet too
magnificent to permit the eye and the excited soul to wander for a
moment from the contemplation of its celestial splendour. Upon a gentle
eminence, whence the castle and the greater part of the glen might be
distinctly viewed, stood the lovers. They gazed with silent delight on
the beauty and magnificence of the scene around them; yet, amidst their
engrossing raptures, they had still enough of individual feeling
remaining to be sensible of that warm palpitation of the heart, which,
in the presence of a beloved object, so greatly enhances every feeling
of delight. On a sudden, they were startled by a rustling noise in the
adjoining thicket; and immediately forth bounded Bran, Macpherson's
staghound, his master's constant attendant.
"My brother must be near," said Elizabeth, in an anxious whisper; "and
we shall be discovered. Good Heavens! what shall we do?"
"Perhaps he may not have seen us," replied Cameron: "you can hasten to
the castle, and I shall attempt to detain him here till you shall have
reached it."
She gave no answer; but, casting around a glance of great alarm, and
fixing one tender, anxious look for one moment upon Cameron, she
hastened away through secret but well-known paths. She did not, however,
escape the eye of Ewan Macpherson, who had thus unseasonably approached
the lovers in their retirement. At this discovery, madness swelled in
his heart and boiled along his veins; but, suppressing his passion, he
approached with haughty stateliness the spot where Cameron stood,
apparently fixed in deep and all-engrossing admiration of the glowing
beauties of earth and heaven.
"The beauties of animated nature appear to have charms in the tasteful
eyes of Allan Cameron," said Macpherson, as he advanced.
"They have," replied Cameron; "and who could stand on this lovely spot
and witness so much beauty and magnificence, without feeling a glow
of rapture pervade his whole frame, and chain him to the place in
delighted admiration! How happy ought the man to be who can call a place
of such loveliness and grandeur his own!"
"Stay! hold! Allan Cameron; let us understand each other. Does Allan
Cameron mean to say that these woods and streams of Glen Feracht, the
lofty mountains around him, the tints of the evening sky over his head,
and these alone, have stirred up his soul to this pitch of enthusiasm?
Or must Ewan Macpherson flatter himself that his sister's charms have
also had some slight influence in producing these rapturous emotions?"
Uncertain whether Macpherson was in earnest or in jest, Cameron
hesitated to answer; and continued gazing on the mountain top, bright,
and crimson, and airy, as if it terminated in an edge of flame.
"Dishonour blast the name of Macpherson, if I endure this!" exclaimed
the fierce Ewan, bursting into a tumult of fury. "Proud Cameron! dost
thou disdain to answer the chief of the Macphersons? Are we fallen so
low that a Cameron shall despise us? Speak! answer me! else I strike
thee to my foot like a base hound! Hast thou dared to mention love--even
to think of love for the sister of Macpherson?"
"And where were the mighty offence, though a Cameron should aspire so
high as to love the sister of Macpherson?"
"Where were the offence?--I tell thee, boy, he had better never have
seen the light. But I will not trifle with thee. Hast _thou_ so dared?"
"I am little used to answer such interrogations. But I would not
willingly quarrel with Ewan Macpherson. My heart must have been colder
than it is, could I have enjoyed the company of Elizabeth Macpherson
without yielding me to that influence of witching beauty which softens
and subdues the soul."
"Thou hast not said--thou dost not dare to say--thou lovest her!
Cameron, I have felt friendship for thee. Thou hast resided in the hall
of my fathers. My hand is withheld from thee. But, if thou dost not
renounce, at once and for ever, all pretensions to the love of Elizabeth
Macpherson, thou hast looked thy last on this green earth and those
glorious heavens."
"Renounce all pretensions to the love of Elizabeth Macpherson! I tell
thee, proud man, that the daughter of the highest Macpherson might think
herself honoured by an alliance with a Cameron."
"Insolent serf! unsay thy words, or maintain them with thy
sword!--Crouch, like a low-born slave as thou art, and beg Macpherson's
pardon, if thou darest not bare thy coward blade."
"Macpherson, thou didst not call me slave or coward, when, side by side,
we two stemmed the stream of battle in its wildest rage;--nor was it a
coward blade that hewed out a safe retreat for thee, when thine own arm
waxed weak and thy steps were unequal on the field of the slain."
"Thou dost well to speak of what thou knowest will prevent me from
chastising thy base treachery. 'Tis what I might have expected;--'tis
done like a cowardly Cameron!"
"But that thou hast a sister, Macpherson, that taunt had cost thee dear.
Thou knowest that thou speakest falsely."
"Falsely!--defend thee, villain, or die like a slave! The feud of our
fathers is but renewed--their spirits behold our strife!" cried
Macpherson, and, drawing his claymore, rushed upon Cameron almost before
his blade was bared for the combat.