THE MARCH FOR ENGLAND.
The neighynge of the war-horse prowde,
The rowleinge of the drum;
The clangour of the trumpet lowde,
Be soundes from heaven that come.
Then mount, then mount, brave gallants all,
And don your helmes amaine;
Death's couriers--fame and honour--call
Us to the field againe.
SCOTS SONG.
Led by General James Douglas, a brother of the Duke of Queenberry,
the Scottish army was to march to London in three columns or
divisions. He commanded the foot in person; Major-General Viscount
Dundee led the cavalry; the Laird of Lundin the train of artillery.
By grey dawn on the 21st of September, the boom of a cannon pealed
from the ramparts of the castle over the city, and echoed among the
craigs of Salisbury and the woods of Warrender and Drumsheugh. It
was the warning gun; and immediately the varying cadence of the
cavalry trumpets sounding _to horse_, and the infantry drums beating
the _générale_, an old summons that has often gained the malison of
the wearied soldier, rang within the narrow thoroughfares of
Edinburgh.
"I thought I heard the General say,--
'Tis time to rouse, and march away!"
Poor Lilian had passed a restless night; she slept only to dream, and
awoke only to weep, and to feel that no tears are more bitter than
those shed unseen by lonely sorrow in the solitude of night. Many a
young heart was crushed with grief, and many a bright eye sleepless
and tearful in anticipation of the morrow's separation, perhaps for
ever. Many a fierce and enthusiastic religioso looked forward to the
march of his countrymen as a relief from thraldom, and the dawn of a
day of vengeance on the upholders of "the Great Beast."
_Now_ that morrow was come, and the ruddy sun arose above the
Lammermuirs to shed his morning glory on the woods of russet brown,
from the bosky depths of which the lark, the gled, and the eagle were
winging their way aloft.
Lilian looked forth from her turret-window, and the very brightness
of that beautiful morning, in contrast to the gloom of her thoughts,
made her heart feel more sad and lonely. The stern façade of the
ancient chateau gleamed in the light of the rising sun, and the few
flowers of autumn lifted up their heavy petals as the warm rays
absorbed the diamond dew. Hastily and less carefully than usual, the
duties of the toilet were dismissed, and deeply the young girl sighed
as she braided her auburn hair, for now there was no one whom she
cared to please. Bright and cloudless though the morning, to her a
gloom seemed to veil everything; but she mastered her grief until
Meinie Elshender, her tirewoman, burst into an uncontrollable fit of
lamentation over the departure of her light-hearted Hab; upon which
Lilian, infected by her sorrow, could no longer restrain herself, and
the two girls wept together.
"Oh, Lady Lilian, another hour will see our braw lads owre the hills
and awa! Hech-how!" sobbed the disconsolate bower-maiden, "I am glad
that muckle tyke, Tam o' the Riggs, is no gaun too. I'll be sure o'
him gif puir Hab's shot by the Hollanders. Eh, sirs, that ever I
should see this day!" and she sobbed comfortably between sorrow and
satisfaction.
"Oh that Annie of Maxwelton would come!" said Lilian; "she is ever so
lighthearted, so joyous and gay--her presence were a godsend. Poor
Annie! another week would have seen her wedding-day, and now her
Douglas must follow Dunbarton to battle--perhaps to death."
"Yonder are her chairmen," replied Meinie as a sedan appeared in the
avenue; "and my Lady Dunbarton's English coach, and Madam this and my
Lady that--ewhow, Sirs! we'll hae a fu' hall to-day."
Numerous vehicles were seen approaching. The troops were to march
southward by the Burghmuir, and many ladies of rank and fashion were
arriving, to behold their departure from a platform erected within
the orchard-wall of Bruntisfield, and overlooking the rough old
quarries and deep marshy ground that bordered the Burghloch. Lilian
flew down to the barbican, and embraced her friend. Though as gaily
attired as usual, Annie was very pale, and the breeze of the morning
when it lifted her heavy locks, shewed the pallor of the beautiful
cheek below. Her innocent gaiety and coquetry had fled together; her
spirit had evaporated, and tearful and sad, she sorrowfully kissed
her paler friend.
The orchard was higher than the roadway, which its wall overlooked
like a rampart, and there numerous highbacked chairs were placed for
the convenience of the ladies, who were every moment arriving, each
in a greater state of flutter and excitement than the last, to view
the troops on their line of march. Various pieces of tapestry were
spread over the parapet, and an ancient standard or two, and several
branches of laurel tastefully arranged by the gardener, made the
orchard-wall like a balcony at a listed tournament.
Lady Grisel was merry and grave by turns, but always stately and
hospitable. With her the day had long since passed, when the march
of a mailed host could raise other sensations in her bosom than those
of pity for the young and brave who might return no more. The
beautiful Countess of Dunbarton veiled her anxiety under an admirable
placidity of face and suavity of manner; while Lilian, Annie Laurie
and many other fair girls who had lovers and relations "under
harness" were clustered together, a pale and tearful group that
conversed in low whispers.
The moss-grown trees of the ancient orchard spread their faded
foliage over them; behind rose the striking outline of the old
manor-house, with its round projecting turrets and high-peaked gables
glowing in the early rays of the sun, which streamed redly and aslant
from the southern ridge of Arthur's Seat, lighting with a golden
gleam the mirrored lake that rolled almost to the orchard wall. A
light shower had fallen just before dawn, and everything was
brightened and refreshed. The dew yet glittered on the waving
branches and the bending grass, and white as snow the morning mists
rolled heavily around the base of the verdant hills, or curled, in a
thousand vapoury and beautiful forms, in the saffron glory of the
rising sun. The dewy autumnal breeze was laden with balm and
fragrance. The first fallen leaves rustled in the long grass; the
corbies and wood-pigeons were wheeling aloft, and the swan and the
heron floated on the still bosom of the loch.
Bright though the morning, and beautiful the scenery, the group
assembled near Bruntisfield were thoughtful and reserved; any little
chit-chat in which they had indulged while Lady Grisel was detailing
the Duke of Hamilton's march for England in her younger days, died
away, when the far-off notes of military music and the increasing hum
in the city, announced that "they were coming."
"Hark!" said Lady Dunbarton, "now they are approaching. 'Tis by Lord
Dundee's advice they march through the entire length of the city,
from the Girth Cross to the Portsburgh, that their array may
intimidate the false Whigs, who are hourly crowding in from all
quarters."
Beneath where the ladies were seated, the roadway was thronged with
cottars from the adjacent hamlets; and many an eye was turned
wistfully to the road that wound by the western rhinns of the Loch
towards the old baronial manor of the Lawsons, that on the Highriggs,
as before mentioned, terminated the ancient suburb of Portsburgh.
From thence a dense mass was seen debouching: the sound of the drum,
and the sharper note of the trumpet, were heard at intervals, while
pikes glittered, banners waved, and hoofs rang, and every heart beat
quicker as the troops approached; for, even in our own matter-of-fact
age, there are few sights more stirring than the departure of a
regiment for foreign service; but then it was the entire regular
force of the kingdom en masse on the march for another land. Dense
crowds occupied the whole roadway; for though the Scottish government
had few friends, all the idlers of the city were pouring forth from
its southern gates.
England was still a foreign and rather hostile country, and London
was "an unco and far-awa place" (much more so than Calcutta is now);
and persons on their departure therefor received the condolences of
their friends; on their return, were welcomed by joy and
congratulation, and were regarded with wonder and interest like the
ancient mariners who had doubled Cape Non. And thus the
Edinburghers, according to their various hopes, fears, hates and
wishes, regarded with unusual anxiety the departure of their
countrymen.
Save our brave Highlanders, fifty-seven years afterwards, this was
the last Scottish host that ever marched into England.
First came an advanced guard of Horse Grenadiers, who wore scarlet
coats over their steel corslets, and had high fur caps; they were
armed with long musquets, bayonets, and hammer-hatchets, and wore
grenado-pouches on their left side, to balance the cartridge-boxes on
the right.
Led by the Laird of Lundin, Master of the Ordnance, next came the
train of artillery, with trumpets sounding and kettle-drums beating;
the matrosses marching with shouldered pikes on each side of the
polished brass cannon; the firemasters on horseback, distinguished by
waving plumes and golden scarfs. Nearly sheathed in complete armour
of Charles the First's time, four gentlemen-of-the-cannon rode on
each side of the great flag gun, which was drawn by eight horses.
The Scottish standards--one with St. Andrew's Cross, the other with
the Lion, gules--were displayed from its carriage, on which sat two
little kettle-drummers beating a march. It was followed by the gins,
capstans, forge-waggons, and a troop of horse with their swords drawn.
Then the column of cavalry filed past; all fierce and select cavalier
troopers, many of them inured to service by the civil wars of
eight-and-twenty years. Claverhouse's Life Guardsmen, in their
polished plate-armour, wearing white horse hair streaming from their
helmets;--all were splendidly mounted, and rode with the butts of
their carbines resting on their thighs. They were greeted by a burst
of acclamation from the ladies, for these dashing horsemen were the
Guardi Nobili, the Prætorian Band of Scotland. Douglas's regiment of
Red-coat Horse, and the Earl of Dunmore's Dragoons, the Scots Greys
in their janissary caps, buff coats, and iron panoply, brought up the
rear.
Next came the infantry; the two battalions of the Fusilier Guards,
clad in coats, breeches, and stockings, all of bright scarlet, with
white scarfs and long feathers; the officers marching with half
pikes, and the soldiers with lighted matches; the battalions of the
Scots Musqueteers in their round morions and corslets of black iron;
the Earl of Mar's Fusiliers, Wauchop's regiment, &c. &c., poured past
in rapid and monotonous succession, till the rear-guard of Horse and
a few pieces of artillery, with a long line of sumpter-horses,
bidets, and peddies, or grooms, closed the rear.
From a cloudless sky, full upon their long line of march, the bright
sun poured down his morning splendour; the blare of the brazen
trumpet and the ringing bugle-horn, the clashing cymbal and the
measured beat of the drum, rang in the echoing sky and adjacent
woodlands; while, like the ceaseless rush of a river, the tread of
many marching feet, the tramp of the horses, the clank of
chain-bridles, steel scabbards, and bandoliers, the lumbering roll of
the brass cannon and shot-tumbrils of the train, filled up the
intervals of the air which all their bands were playing,--the famous
old Scots' March, composed for the Guard of King James V.
Never before had Walter Fenton felt such exultation, or so proud of
the banner that waved over his shoulder; and his heart seemed to
bound to every crash of the martial music that loaded the morning
wind. It is impossible to pourtray the glow of chivalry that stirs a
heart like his at such a time.
Amid the dust of the long array in front, the innumerable bright
points of armour, and accoutrements, and weapons, were sparkling and
flashing, and, when viewed from the distant city, the host of horse
and foot, with standards waving, resembled a vast gilded snake
sweeping over the Burghmuir, and gliding between its old oak trees
and broomy knolls towards the hills of Braid. It was a scene which
no man could behold without ardour and admiration, or without that
gush of enthusiasm which stirs even the most sluggish spirit--
"When hearts are all high beating,
And the trumpet's voice repeating
That song whose breath
May lead to death,
But never to retreating."
"Ah! Douglas," said Walter to his friend, "I feel that all the
romance of my boyish dreams is about to be realized. My breast seems
too narrow for the emotions that glow within it. Love----"
"Yes, Fenton, _it_ is the most powerful of all human passions; but a
desire for military glory is scarcely less strong. Yet, bethink
thee, Fenton, how sadly an old veteran's memory retraces the ardour
of such an hour as this."
"To me it almost counterbalances the pain of parting from yonder dear
girl;" and, while speaking, he bowed repeatedly to Lilian and kissed
his hand, for they were now beneath the orchard-wall. Long and sad
was the glance he gave that fair face, every feature of which was
indelibly impressed on his heart. Her vivacity was gone, and her
cheek pale; her heart was wrung with anguish, though it fluttered
with the excitement around her. Even the gay Annie was unusually
grave, and her dark blue eyes were humid with the heavy tears that
trembled on their long black lashes.
"Farewell, Annie," said Douglas, looking up to her with intense
feeling. "Farewell, my love. 'Horse and spear' is the slogan now."
The aspect of Dunbarton's Royals elicited a burst of applause, and
the ladies threw flowers among their passing ranks. That surpassing
state of discipline and steadiness which they had acquired under the
great De Martinet (that phoenix of adjutants and paragon of drills)
whose fame is known throughout all the armies of Europe, had not
passed away.
From the richness of their accoutrements, they seemed one mass of
vivid scarlet and polished steel. The musqueteers and pikemen (every
corps had still a proportion armed with that ancient weapon) wore a
close round morion of iron with cheek-plates clasped under the chin:
those of the officers were of burnished steel, surmounted by dancing
plumes of white ostrich feathers. The cuirasses and gorgets of the
captains were of the colour of gold; the lieutenants' were of black,
studded with gold; and those of the ensigns were of silver,--and all
had embroidered sword-belts and crimson scarfs with golden tassels.
The corslets of the soldiers were of black iron, crossed by their
collars of bandoliers, little wooden cases, each containing a charge
of powder; the balls were carried loose in a pouch on the left side,
balanced by a priming-horn on the right. Their scarlet coats were
heavily cuffed and richly braided, and each was armed with a sword in
addition to his bright-barrelled matchlock. With tall fur caps, and
coats slashed and looped, led by Gavin of that ilk, their grenadiers
marched in front, with hammer-hatchets, slung carbines, swords,
daggers, and pouches of grenades. Such was the aspect of the regular
Scottish infantry of that period; and certainly it was not a little
imposing.*
* Royal Orders of the day.
At the head of his regiment rode the brave Earl of Dunbarton, with
the curious mask or visor (then appended to the helmet) turned
upward, revealing his dark and noble features; his coat of scarlet,
richly laced, was worn open to display his corslet of bright steel,
which was inlaid with gold. The military wig escaped from beneath
the plumed headpiece, and flowed in long curls over his shoulders;
and he rode with his baton rested on the top of his long jack-boot.
Still more gaily armed and accoutred, the handsome Viscount of Dundee
rode on his left; and on the right, the dark-visaged and
sinister-eyed James Douglas of Queensberry, the general commanding,
managed a spirited black charger; and on passing the ladies, the
three cavalier leaders bowed until their plumes mingled with their
horses' manes.
The venerable Sir Thomas Dalyel, attired in his antique buff coat,
steel cap, and long boots, and with his preposterous white beard
streaming in the wind, galloped up, baton in hand, to pay his devoirs
to Lady Grisel and her visitors--making, as he reined up, such a
reverence as might have been fashionable at the court of His Ferocity
the Czar of Muscovy. A crowd of tenants and cottars who loitered
near, shrank back with ill-disguised fear and aversion as the "auld
persecutor" approached.
"A fearfu' man, whose face is an index o' his heart," muttered Elsie
Elshender, shaking her clenched hand at him behind Meinie's back.
"'Tis just such a beard the warlocks and the deil have on, when they
meet the witches at their sabbath on the Calton." As she spoke, the
keen stern eye of the veteran cavalier chanced to fall full upon her,
and the old woman trembled lest he might divine her thoughts, if he
had not overheard her words--so great was the terror entertained of
his real and imaginary powers.
"Ye say true, Cummer Elsie," whispered Symon, the ground baillie, a
grim old fellow, clad in hoddin grey, wearing his Sunday bonnet and
plaid, a staff in his hand, and a broadsword at his side. "He hath
the mark of the beast on his frontlet. Hah! I have seen as muckle
bravery displayed in the moss o' Drumclog, but the cheer of the
oppressor was changed ere the gloaming fell. But better times are
coming, Elsie; better days are coming, and then sall 'the children of
Zion be joyful in their king.'"
Sir Thomas Dalyel, who
"Like Claver'se fell chiel,
Was in league wi' the deil,"
and had of course been rendered bullet-proof in consequence of this
infernal compact, from his style of conversation was ill calculated
to soothe the anxious fears of those he addressed.
"How, Sir Thomas?" said Lady Grisel Napier, "I knew not that you were
boune for England."
"Nor am I, please you, madam," replied the old cavalier, standing in
his stirrups, erect as a pike. "I am getting owre auld in the horn
now. Eighty years, saxty of whilk were spent under harness, are
beginning to tell sairly on me at last; and that frosty auld carle,
Time, hath whispered long that my marching days are weel nigh over.
But, please God, I may die in my buff coat yet, gif the tide of war
rolls northward. I would fain see a few more blows exchanged on
Scottish turf before I am laid below it."
"I marvel not, Sir Thomas," said the gentle young Countess of
Dunbarton, "that the sight of these passing bands rouses your nobler
spirit, when I, who am so timid, feel myself inspired with a false
ardour and courage."
"Most noble ladies, the heart would indeed be a cauld one, that felt
nae fire in sic an hour as this. By my faith, even my auld
troop-horse, grey Marston, kittles up his lugs at the fanfare o' the
trumpet, like a Don Cossacque at the cry of plunder. Puir Marston,"
he added, patting the neck of his charger, "I fear our fighting days
are now gone by, unless the Dutch rapscallions come north, whilk may
God direct, that auld Tammas o' the Binns may strike three strokes on
steel for Scotland and his king, ere this baton is laid on his
coffin-lid. 'Tis a brave sight, ladies, and Douglas hath under his
banner some brave lads as ever marched to battle or breach. But I
like not this new invention, whilk is callit the bayonet, preferring
the good old Sweyn's feather, which repels the heaviest brigade of
horse like a stane dyke.
"Lady Grisel, I heard you speak just now of the Mareschal-General
Lesly. He was a d----d auld round-headed cur, and his brigades of
sour blue-bonnets were no more to be compared to our lads that
marched to Worcester, than eggshells are to cannon-balls. But had
you seen the Muscovite host on the march for Samoieda, in that year
when we beleaguered and sacked and overran the whole shores of the
Frozen Ocean, ye would have seen marching to their last campaigns
some of the prettiest cavaliers that ever ate horse-flesh or slashed
the head off a Tartar. Now, God's murrain on the southern
clodpoles!" began Sir Thomas, commencing some fierce tirade against
the English, for he was a Scot of the oldest school.
"Fie, Knight of Binns!" said Annie Laurie; "you forget that my Lady
Dunbarton is south-land bred."
"Sweet mistress, I crave pardon of her gentleness. But I am owre
auld to pick my words now. I say as my fathers have said; I think as
my fathers have thocht."
"Your servant, Sir Thomas.--Ladies, your humble servant!" said that
unconscionable bore, Lord Mersington, who at that moment rode up with
Clermistonlee. "Hee, hee, General--seeing your auld friends awa
again--'bodin in effeir of weir,' as the acts say?"
"Yea, my Lord. You, too, hae seen some work like this in your time."
"Ay. At Dunbar I rode in the troop of the College of Justice, and
exchanged the judge's wig for the troopers morion; ye ken, when drums
beat, laws are dumb."
"Then Heaven send they may beat for ever and aye. A bonnie like
troop o' auld carlins your Lordship's Justiciars were, and merrily we
stark cavaliers of the French and Swedish wars laughed when Monk's
regiment of foot, whilk are now denominate the Coldstreamers, routed
ye like sae mony schule bairns."
"Under favour, Sir Thomas, I hold that to be leasing-making, hee,
hee! and though we laugh owre it now as auld gossips, I mind the day
when blades had been drawn on it."
Clermistonlee, while endeavouring with equal skill and grace to curb
his restive horse, fixed his dark gloating eyes on Lilian Napier, and
gave her a profound bow; but, well aware of what his intentions had
long been towards her, instead of acknowledging it, she coldly turned
away, and took the arm of Annie Laurie. She was too gentle to glance
disdainfully, but an indignant blush crimsoned her cheek, and she
withdrew to another part of the parapet. Clermistonlee bit his proud
lip with vexation; but the fierce gleam of his dark eye passed
unobserved by all save Juden, who, like his shadow, was never far off.
"My Lord Clermistonlee, we will hae but a toom toun now, when our
brave bucks and braw fellows have a' marched southward," said Dalyel.
"Many a fair damsel sees her stout leman for the last time," replied
his Lordship, with a soft smile at Lilian; "but keep bold hearts,
fair ladies--there are as handsome fellows left behind as any that
march under the baton of James Douglas."
"As gude fish in the sea as e'er cam' out o' t, hee, hee!"
"True," retorted Annie Laurie; "but such gay fellows as your
Lordships are too economical of their persons to suit the taste of a
bold border lass."
"Indeed, Mistress Laurie! But according to love _à la mode_, one
leman is quite the same as another."
"Whilk," said Sir Thomas Dalyel, with a deep laugh, interrupting a
sharp retort of Annie's, "whilk were the very words a certain
Muscovite damsel sain to me, after her husband's head had been
chopped off by the ungracious Tartars. I construed it into a hint
that I was to occupy his place, and I was but owre happy, for 'tis a
cold country, the land of the Russ and----but, dags and pistols! here
cometh the rear-guard already! and as there are some lads marching
owre yonder brae, with whom I would fain confer for the last time, I
must crave your Ladyship's pardon, with leave to follow the line of
route."
Erect in his stirrups, with toes pointed upwards and baton depressed,
the old cavalier made a profound obeisance, and notwithstanding his
great age dashed at full gallop through the crowd, amidst an
ill-repressed shout of hatred and execration from amongst it.
"An auld ill-faured persecuting devil!" said Elsie Elshender, shaking
her withered hand after him; "a tormentor o' God's worthiest
servants, a Cain among the sons o' men--a fearfu' tyrant, and suited
to fearfu' times. Gude keep us! look at the doken blade he spat on;
there is a hole brunt clean through it."
"His horse's hoofs mak' runnin' water boil," added Syme the Baillie's
wife in a low voice.
"Silence, Cummers!" said Juden Stenton; "or you'll hae the steel
jougs locked round your jaws the morn, and may be get a het
tar-barrelling after for speaking sae freely o' your betters."
Sir Thomas reined up alongside of the three generals, whom for
several miles he bored with musty maxims, obsolete tactics, and
strange advice, anent the superiority of Sweyn's feathers over the
screwed dagger (or bayonet), and furiously condemned the slinging of
carbines in budgets in lieu of shoulderbelts, as in the days of
Montrose--expatiated on the method of forming square with the
grenadiers covering the angles, and making the bringers-up (or third
rank) entirely of musqueteers. He particularly impressed upon
General Douglas the method of posting musqueteers among the horse and
dragoons in alternate regiments--a tactique of that Star of the
North, the great Gustavus of Sweden, and used by Prince Rupert at
Long Marstonmoor--and after a fierce tirade against Sir James Wemys's
leather cannon for field service, and a few words about the
Muscovites, this veteran soldier of fortune bade them adieu near the
Balm Well of St. Catherine, which lay yet a ruin, just as Cromwell's
puritans had left it thirty-eight years before, when 16,000 of them
encamped on the Gallaehlawhill. There Dalyel parted with "bluidy
Dunbarton, Douglas, and Dundee," never to meet again; for though he
saw it not, the hand of death was already stretched over the
venerable "persecutor" and exile--war, wounds, and death were the
portion of the others.
Long, long remained the fair young Countess watching the glittering
columns as they wound over the Burghmuir, and ascended the hills of
Braid, and until the faintest tap of the drums died away on the wind,
and the helmets of the rearguard flashed a farewell ray in the
evening sun, as they disappeared over the distant hills.
Then the grief of Lilian could no longer be restrained, for a heavy
sense of utter desolation fell upon her heart.
"Oh, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, and throwing herself upon the
bosom of friend, burst into a passion of tears.
The bustle, the glitter, and the music all combined, had caused an
unnatural degree of excitement, and had sustained their spirits while
the troops were pouring past, enabling them to behold with calmness a
thousand tender partings. All now were away--silence and stillness
succeeded--the excitement had evaporated, and they experienced an
unnerving reaction which rendered them miserable, and they wept
without restraint for the lovers that had left them--perhaps for ever.