With careless gesture, mind unmoved,
On rade he north the plain,
His seem in thrang of fiercest strife,
When winner aye the same.
Hardyknute.
Colonel Grahame of Claverhouse met the family, assembled in the hall of
the Tower, with the same serenity and the same courtesy which had graced
his manners in the morning. He had even had the composure to rectify in
part the derangement of his dress, to wash the signs of battle from his
face and hands, and did not appear more disordered in his exterior than
if returned from a morning ride.
“I am grieved, Colonel Grahame,” said the reverend old lady, the tears
trickling down her face, “deeply grieved.”
“And I am grieved, my dear Lady Margaret,” replied Claverhouse, “that
this misfortune may render your remaining at Tillietudlem dangerous for
you, especially considering your recent hospitality to the King’s troops,
and your well-known loyalty. And I came here chiefly to request Miss
Bellenden and you to accept my escort (if you will not scorn that of a
poor runaway) to Glasgow, from whence I will see you safely sent either
to Edinburgh or to Dunbarton Castle, as you shall think best.”
“I am much obliged to you, Colonel Grahame,” replied Lady Margaret; “but
my brother, Major Bellenden, has taken on him the responsibility of
holding out this house against the rebels; and, please God, they shall
never drive Margaret Bellenden from her ain hearth-stane while there’s a
brave man that says he can defend it.”
“And will Major Bellenden undertake this?” said Claverhouse hastily, a
joyful light glancing from his dark eye as he turned it on the
veteran,--“Yet why should I question it? it is of a piece with the rest
of his life.--But have you the means, Major?”
“All, but men and provisions, with which we are ill supplied,” answered
the Major.
“As for men,” said Claverhouse, “I will leave you a dozen or twenty
fellows who will make good a breach against the devil. It will be of the
utmost service, if you can defend the place but a week, and by that time
you must surely be relieved.”
“I will make it good for that space, Colonel,” replied the Major, “with
twenty-five good men and store of ammunition, if we should gnaw the soles
of our shoes for hunger; but I trust we shall get in provisions from the
country.”
“And, Colonel Grahame, if I might presume a request,” said Lady Margaret,
“I would entreat that Sergeant Francis Stewart might command the
auxiliaries whom you are so good as to add to the garrison of our people;
it may serve to legitimate his promotion, and I have a prejudice in
favour of his noble birth.”
“The sergeant’s wars are ended, madam,” said Grahame, in an unaltered
tone, “and he now needs no promotion that an earthly master can give.”
“Pardon me,” said Major Bellenden, taking Claverhouse by the arm, and
turning him away from the ladies, “but I am anxious for my friends; I
fear you have other and more important loss. I observe another officer
carries your nephew’s standard.”
“You are right, Major Bellenden,” answered Claverhouse firmly; “my nephew
is no more. He has died in his duty, as became him.”
“Great God!” exclaimed the Major, “how unhappy!--the handsome, gallant,
high-spirited youth!”
“He was indeed all you say,” answered Claverhouse; “poor Richard was to
me as an eldest son, the apple of my eye, and my destined heir; but he
died in his duty, and I--I--Major Bellenden”--(he wrung the Major’s hand
hard as he spoke)--“I live to avenge him.”
“Colonel Grahame,” said the affectionate veteran, his eyes filling with
tears, “I am glad to see you bear this misfortune with such fortitude.”
“I am not a selfish man,” replied Claverhouse, “though the world will
tell you otherwise; I am not selfish either in my hopes or fears, my joys
or sorrows. I have not been severe for myself, or grasping for myself, or
ambitious for myself. The service of my master and the good of the
country are what I have tried to aim at. I may, perhaps, have driven
severity into cruelty, but I acted for the best; and now I will not yield
to my own feelings a deeper sympathy than I have given to those of
others.”
“I am astonished at your fortitude under all the unpleasant circumstances
of this affair,” pursued the Major.
“Yes,” replied Claverhouse, “my enemies in the council will lay this
misfortune to my charge--I despise their accusations. They will
calumniate me to my sovereign--I can repel their charge. The public enemy
will exult in my flight--I shall find a time to show them that they exult
too early. This youth that has fallen stood betwixt a grasping kinsman
and my inheritance, for you know that my marriage-bed is barren; yet,
peace be with him! the country can better spare him than your friend Lord
Evandale, who, after behaving very gallantly, has, I fear, also fallen.”
“What a fatal day!” ejaculated the Major. “I heard a report of this, but
it was again contradicted; it was added, that the poor young nobleman’s
impetuosity had occasioned the loss of this unhappy field.”
“Not so, Major,” said Grahame; “let the living officers bear the blame,
if there be any; and let the laurels flourish untarnished on the grave of
the fallen. I do not, however, speak of Lord Evandale’s death as certain;
but killed, or prisoner, I fear he must be. Yet he was extricated from
the tumult the last time we spoke together. We were then on the point of
leaving the field with a rear-guard of scarce twenty men; the rest of the
regiment were almost dispersed.”
“They have rallied again soon,” said the Major, looking from the window
on the dragoons, who were feeding their horses and refreshing themselves
beside the brook.
“Yes,” answered Claverhouse, “my blackguards had little temptation either
to desert, or to straggle farther than they were driven by their first
panic. There is small friendship and scant courtesy between them and the
boors of this country; every village they pass is likely to rise on them,
and so the scoundrels are driven back to their colours by a wholesome
terror of spits, pike-staves, hay-forks, and broomsticks.--But now let us
talk about your plans and wants, and the means of corresponding with you.
To tell you the truth, I doubt being able to make a long stand at
Glasgow, even when I have joined my Lord Ross; for this transient and
accidental success of the fanatics will raise the devil through all the
western counties.”
They then discussed Major Bellenden’s means of defence, and settled a
plan of correspondence, in case a general insurrection took place, as was
to be expected. Claverhouse renewed his offer to escort the ladies to a
place of safety; but, all things considered, Major Bellenden thought they
would be in equal safety at Tillietudlem.
The Colonel then took a polite leave of Lady Margaret and Miss Bellenden,
assuring them, that, though he was reluctantly obliged to leave them for
the present in dangerous circumstances, yet his earliest means should be
turned to the redemption of his character as a good knight and true, and
that they might speedily rely on hearing from or seeing him.
Full of doubt and apprehension, Lady Margaret was little able to reply to
a speech so much in unison with her usual expressions and feelings, but
contented herself with bidding Claverhouse farewell, and thanking him for
the succours which he had promised to leave them. Edith longed to enquire
the fate of Henry Morton, but could find no pretext for doing so, and
could only hope that it had made a subject of some part of the long
private communication which her uncle had held with Claverhouse. On this
subject, however, she was disappointed; for the old cavalier was so
deeply immersed in the duties of his own office, that he had scarce said
a single word to Claverhouse, excepting upon military matters, and most
probably would have been equally forgetful, had the fate of his own son,
instead of his friend’s, lain in the balance.
Claverhouse now descended the bank on which the castle is founded, in
order to put his troops again in motion, and Major Bellenden accompanied
him to receive the detachment who were to be left in the tower.
“I shall leave Inglis with you,” said Claverhouse, “for, as I am
situated, I cannot spare an officer of rank; it is all we can do, by our
joint efforts, to keep the men together. But should any of our missing
officers make their appearance, I authorize you to detain them; for my
fellows can with difficulty be subjected to any other authority.”
His troops being now drawn up, he picked out sixteen men by name, and
committed them to the command of Corporal Inglis, whom he promoted to the
rank of sergeant on the spot.
“And hark ye, gentlemen,” was his concluding harangue, “I leave you to
defend the house of a lady, and under the command of her brother, Major
Bellenden, a faithful servant to the king. You are to behave bravely,
soberly, regularly, and obediently, and each of you shall be handsomely
rewarded on my return to relieve the garrison. In case of mutiny,
cowardice, neglect of duty, or the slightest excess in the family, the
provost-marshal and cord--you know I keep my word for good and evil.”
He touched his hat as he bade them farewell, and shook hands cordially
with Major Bellenden.
“Adieu,” he said, “my stout-hearted old friend! Good luck be with you,
and better times to us both.”
The horsemen whom he commanded had been once more reduced to tolerable
order by the exertions of Major Allan; and, though shorn of their
splendour, and with their gilding all besmirched, made a much more
regular and military appearance on leaving, for the second time, the
tower of Tillietudlem, than when they returned to it after their rout.
Major Bellenden, now left to his own resources sent out several videttes,
both to obtain supplies of provisions, and especially of meal, and to get
knowledge of the motions of the enemy. All the news he could collect on
the second subject tended to prove that the insurgents meant to remain on
the field of battle for that night. But they, also, had abroad their
detachments and advanced guards to collect supplies, and great was the
doubt and distress of those who received contrary orders, in the name of
the King and in that of the Kirk; the one commanding them to send
provisions to victual the Castle of Tillietudlem, and the other enjoining
them to forward supplies to the camp of the godly professors of true
religion, now in arms for the cause of covenanted reformation, presently
pitched at Drumclog, nigh to Loudon-hill. Each summons closed with a
denunciation of fire and sword if it was neglected; for neither party
could confide so far in the loyalty or zeal of those whom they addressed,
as to hope they would part with their property upon other terms. So that
the poor people knew not what hand to turn themselves to; and, to say
truth, there were some who turned themselves to more than one.
“Thir kittle times will drive the wisest o’ us daft,” said Niel Blane,
the prudent host of the Howff; “but I’se aye keep a calm sough.--Jenny,
what meal is in the girnel?”
“Four bows o’ aitmeal, twa bows o’ bear, and twa bows o’ pease,” was
Jenny’s reply.
“Aweel, hinny,” continued Niel Blane, sighing deeply, “let Bauldy drive
the pease and bear meal to the camp at Drumclog--he’s a whig, and was the
auld gudewife’s pleughman--the mashlum bannocks will suit their muirland
stamachs weel. He maun say it’s the last unce o’ meal in the house, or,
if he scruples to tell a lie, (as it’s no likely he will when it’s for
the gude o’ the house,) he may wait till Duncan Glen, the auld drucken
trooper, drives up the aitmeal to Tillietudlem, wi’ my dutifu’ service to
my Leddy and the Major, and I haena as muckle left as will mak my
parritch; and if Duncan manage right, I’ll gie him a tass o’ whisky shall
mak the blue low come out at his mouth.”
“And what are we to eat oursells then, father,” asked Jenny, “when we hae
sent awa the haill meal in the ark and the girnel?”
“We maun gar wheat-flour serve us for a blink,” said Niel, in a tone of
resignation; “it’s no that ill food, though far frae being sae hearty or
kindly to a Scotchman’s stamach as the curney aitmeal is; the Englishers
live amaist upon’t; but, to be sure, the pock-puddings ken nae better.”
While the prudent and peaceful endeavoured, like Niel Blane, to make fair
weather with both parties, those who had more public (or party) spirit
began to take arms on all sides. The royalists in the country were not
numerous, but were respectable from their fortune and influence, being
chiefly landed proprietors of ancient descent, who, with their brothers,
cousins, and dependents to the ninth generation, as well as their
domestic servants, formed a sort of militia, capable of defending their
own peel-houses against detached bodies of the insurgents, of resisting
their demand of supplies, and intercepting those which were sent to the
presbyterian camp by others. The news that the Tower of Tillietudlem was
to be defended against the insurgents, afforded great courage and support
to these feudal volunteers, who considered it as a stronghold to which
they might retreat, in case it should become impossible for them to
maintain the desultory war they were now about to wage.
On the other hand, the towns, the villages, the farm-houses, the
properties of small heritors, sent forth numerous recruits to the
presbyterian interest. These men had been the principal sufferers during
the oppression of the time. Their minds were fretted, soured, and driven
to desperation, by the various exactions and cruelties to which they had
been subjected; and, although by no means united among themselves, either
concerning the purpose of this formidable insurrection, or the means by
which that purpose was to be obtained, most of them considered it as a
door opened by Providence to obtain the liberty of conscience of which
they had been long deprived, and to shake themselves free of a tyranny,
directed both against body and soul. Numbers of these men, therefore,
took up arms; and, in the phrase of their time and party, prepared to
cast in their lot with the victors of Loudon-hill.