CHAPTER XI

At this time an ancient controversy between the Archbishops of St

Andrews and of Glasgow, touching their respective jurisdictions, had

been resuscitated with great acrimony, and in the debates concerning the

same the Glasgow people took a deep interest, for they are stouthearted

and of an adventurous spirit, and cannot abide to think that they or

their town should, in anything of public honour, be deemed either slack

or second to the foremost in the realm, and none of all the worthy

burgesses thereof thought more proudly of the superiority and renown of

their city than did Deacon Sword. So it came to pass, as he was sitting

at supper with my grandfather, that he enlarged and expatiated on the

inordinate pretensions of the Archbishop of St Andrews, and took

occasion to diverge from the prelate's political ambition to speak of

the enormities of his ecclesiastical government, and particularly of

that heinous and never-to-be-forgotten act, the burning of an aged man

of fourscore and two years, whose very heresies, as the deacon

mercifully said, ought rather to have been imputed to dotage than

charged as offences.

My grandfather was well pleased to observe such vigour of principle and

bravery of character in one having such sway and weight in so great a

community as to be the chief captain of the crafts who were banded with

the hammermen, namely, the cartwrights, the saddlers, the masons, the

coopers, the mariners, and all whose work required the use of

edge-tools, the hardiest and buirdliest of the trades, and he allowed

himself to run in with the deacon's humour, but without letting wot

either in whose service he was, or on what exploit he was bound, sowing

however, from time to time, hints as to the need that seemed to be

growing of putting a curb on the bold front wherewith the Archbishop of

St Andrews, under the pretext of suppressing heresies, butted with the

horns of oppression against all who stood within the reverence of his

displeasure.

Deacon Sword had himself a leaning to the reformed doctrines, which,

with his public enmity to the challenger of his own Archbishop, made him

take to those hints with so great an affinity, that he vowed to God,

shaking my grandfather by the hand over the table, that if some steps

were not soon taken to stop such inordinate misrule, there were not

wanting five hundred men in Glasgow who would start forward with weapons

in their grip at the first tout of a trump to vindicate the liberties of

the subject, and the wholesome administration by the temporal judges of

the law against all offenders as of old. And, giving scope to his

ardour, he said there was then such a spirit awakened in Glasgow that

men, women and children thirsted to see justice executed on the

churchmen, who were daily waxing more and more wroth and insatiable

against everyone who called their doctrines or polity in question.

Thus out of the very devices which had been devised by those about the

Queen Regent to intercept the free communion of the people with one

another was the means brought about whereby a chosen emissary of the

Congregation came to get at the emboldening knowledge of the sense of

the citizens of Glasgow with regard to the great cause which at that

period troubled the minds and fears of all men.

My grandfather was joyfully heartened by what he heard, and before

coming away from the deacon who, with the hospitality common to his

townsmen, would fain have had him to prolong their sederunt over the

gardevine, he said that if Glasgow were as true and valiant as it was

thought, there could be no doubt that her declaration for the Lords of

the Congregation would work out a great redress of public wrongs. For,

from all he could learn and understand, those high and pious noblemen

had nothing more at heart than to procure for the people the free

exercise of their right to worship God according to their conscience and

the doctrines of the Old and New Testaments.

But though over the liquor-cup the deacon had spoken so dreadless and

like a manly citizen, my grandfather resolved with himself to depart

betimes for Kilmarnock, in case of any change in his temper.

Accordingly, he requested the hostler of the hostel where he had taken

his bed, to which his day's hard journey early inclined him, to have his

horse in readiness before break of day. But this hostel, which was

called the Cross of Rhodes, happened to be situated at the Water-port,

and besides being a tavern and inn, was likewise the great ferryhouse of

the Clyde when the tide was up, or the ford rendered unsafe by the

torrents of the speats and inland rains--the which caused it to be much

frequented by the skippers and mariners of the barks that traded to

France and Genoa with the Renfrew salmon, and by all sorts of travellers

at all times even to the small hours of the morning. In short it was a

boisterous house, the company resorting thereto of a sort little in

unison with the religious frame of my grandfather. As soon, therefore,

as he came from the deacon's, he went to bed without taking off his

clothes, in order that he might be fit for the road as he intended; and

his bed being in the public room, with sliding doors, he drew them upon

him, hoping to shut out some of the din and to win a little repose. But

scarcely had he laid his head on the pillow when he heard the voice of

one entering the room, and listening eagerly, he discovered that it was

no other than the traitor Winterton's, the which so amazed him with

apprehension that he shook as he lay, like the aspen leaf on the tree.

Winterton called like a braggart for supper and hot wine, boasting he

had ridden that day from Edinburgh, and that he must be up and across

his horse by daylight in the morning, as he had need to be in Kilmarnock

by noon. In this, which vanity made him tell in bravado, my grandfather

could not but discern a kind Providence admonishing himself, for he had

no doubt that Winterton was in pursuit of him, and thankful he was that

he had given no inkling to anyone in the house as to whence he had come

and where he was going. But had this thought not at once entered his

head, he would soon have had cause to think it, for while Winterton was

eating his supper he began to converse with their host, and to inquire

what travellers had crossed the river. Twice or thrice, in as it were an

off-hand manner, he spoke of one whom he called a cousin, but, in

describing his garb, he left no doubt in my grandfather's bosom that it

was regarding him he seemed at once both so negligent and so anxious.

Most providential therefore it was that my grandfather had altered his

dress before leaving Edinburgh, for the marks which Winterton gave of

him were chiefly drawn from his ordinary garb, and by them their host in

consequence said he had seen no such person.

When Winterton had finished his repast, and was getting his second

stoup of wine heated, he asked where he was to sleep, to the which

question the host replied that he feared he would, like others, be

obligated to make a bench by the fireside his couch, all the beds in the

house being already bespoke or occupied. "Every one of them is double,"

said the man, "save only one, the which is paid for by a young man that

goes off at break of day and who is already asleep."

At this Winterton swore a dreadful oath that he would not sleep by the

fire after riding fifty miles while there was half a bed in the house,

and commanded the host to go and tell the young man that he must half

blankets with him.

My grandfather knew that this could only refer to him; so, when their

host came and opened the sliding doors of the bed, he feigned himself to

be very fast asleep at the back of the bed, and only groaned in

drowsiness when he was touched.

"O, let him alane," cried Winterton, "I ken what it is to be tired; so,

as there's room enough at the stock, when I have drank my posset I'll

e'en creep in beside him."

My grandfather, weary as he was, lay panting with apprehension, not

doubting that he should be speedily discovered; but when Winterton had

finished his drink and came swaggering and jocose to be his bedfellow,

he kept himself with his face to the wall, and snored like one who was

in haste to sleep more than enough, insomuch that Winterton, when he lay

down, gave him a deg with his elbow and swore at him to be quiet. His

own fatigue, however, soon mastered the disturbance which my grandfather

made, and he began himself to echo the noise in defenceless sincerity.

On hearing him thus fettered by sleep, my grandfather began to consider

with himself what he ought to do, being both afraid and perplexed he

knew not wherefore; and he was prompted by a power that he durst not and

could not reason with to rise and escape from the jeopardy wherein he

then was. But how could this be done, for the house was still open, and

travellers and customers were continually going and coming. Truly his

situation was one of great tribulation, and escape therefrom a thing

seemingly past hope and the unaided wisdom of man.

Ringan Gilhaize, or, The Covenanters · 第 11 / 93 章