"Old Mortality" and the "Black Dwarf" were published together
as the first series of the "Tales of My Landlord" on December
1, 1816. The first is certainly one of the best of Scott's
historical romances. It was the fourth of the "Waverley
Novels," and the authorship was still unavowed; though Mr.
Murray, the publisher, at once declared it "must be written
either by Walter Scott or the Devil." On the other hand, there
were critics who did not believe the book was Sir Walter's
because it lacked his "tedious descriptions." Some said openly
it was the work of several hands. The study of the fierce,
fanatical Covenanters in "Old Mortality" is done not only with
all the author's literary genius, but a wonderful fidelity to
historical truth; and while the accuracy of the portrait of
Claverhouse--"Bonny Dundee"--will always be disputed, no lover
of romance will question its brilliant charm. The immediate
popularity of "Old Mortality" was less than many of the
"Waverley Novels," only two editions, amounting to 4,000
copies, being sold in six weeks.
_I.--Tillietudlem Castle_
"Most readers," says the manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, "must have
witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of
the village school. The buoyant spirit of childhood may then be seen to
explode, as it were, in shout and song and frolic; but there is one
individual who partakes of the relief, whose feelings are not so
obvious, or so apt to receive sympathy--the teacher himself."
The reader may form some conception of the relief which a solitary walk,
on a fine summer evening, affords to the head which has ached, and the
nerves which have been shattered for so many hours in plying the irksome
task of public instruction.
To me these evening strolls have been the happiest hours of an unhappy
life; and it was in one of them that I met, for the first time, the
religious itinerant known in various parts of Scotland by the title of
"Old Mortality." He was busily engaged in deepening with his chisel the
letters of the inscription upon the monument of the slaughtered
Presbyterians--those champions of the Covenant whose deeds and
sufferings were his favourite theme.
For nearly thirty years this pious enthusiast visited annually the
graves of those who suffered for the cause during the reigns of the last
two Stuarts, most numerous in the districts of Ayr, Galloway, and
Dumfries. To talk of their exploits was the delight, as to repair their
monuments was the business of his life.
My readers will understand that in embodying into one narrative many of
the anecdotes I derived from Old Mortality, I have endeavoured to
correct and verify them from the most authentic sources of tradition
afforded by the representatives of either party. Peace to their memory!
"Implacable resentment was their crime,
And grievous has the expiation been."
Under the reign of the last Stuarts, frequent musters of the people,
both for military exercise and for sports and pastimes, were appointed
by authority, and the Sheriff of Lanark was holding the wappen-schaw of
a wild district, on the day our narrative commences, May 5, 1679.
The lord-lieutenant of the country alone, who was of ducal rank,
pretended to the magnificence of a wheel-carriage, but near it might be
seen the erect form of Lady Margaret Bellenden on her sober palfrey, and
her granddaughter; the fair-haired Edith appeared beside her aged
relative like Spring, close to Winter.
Many civilities passed between her ladyship and the representatives of
sundry ancient royal families, and not a young man of rank passed by
them in the course of the muster, but carried himself more erect in the
saddle and displayed his horsemanship to the best advantage in the eyes
of Miss Edith Bellenden.
When the military evolutions were over, a loud shout announced that the
competitors were about to step forth for the shooting of the popinjay--
the figure of a bird suspended to a pole. When a slender young man,
dressed with great simplicity, yet with an air of elegance, his
dark-green cloak thrown back over his shoulder, approached the station
with his fusee in his hand, there was a murmur among the spectators.
"Ewhow, sirs, to see his father's son at the like o' thae fearless
follies!" said some of the more rigid, but the generality were content
to wish success to the son of a deceased Presbyterian leader. Their
wishes were gratified. The green adventurer made the first palpable hit
of the day, and two only of those who followed succeeded--the first, a
young man of low rank, who kept his face muffled in a grey cloak; and
the second, a gallant young cavalier, remarkably handsome, who had been
in close attendance on Lady Margaret and Miss Bellenden.
But the applause, even of those whose wishes had favoured Lord Evandale,
were at the third trial transferred to his triumphant rival, who was led
by four of the duke's friends to his presence, passing in front of Lady
Margaret and her granddaughter. The captain of the popinjay (as the
victor was called) and Miss Bellenden coloured like crimson, as the
latter returned the low inclination he made, even to the saddlebow, in
passing her.
"Do you know that young person?" said Lady Margaret.
"I--I--have seen him, madam, at my uncle's, and--and--elsewhere,
occasionally," stammered Edith.
"I hear them say around me," said Lady Margaret, "that the young spark
is the nephew of old Milnwood."
"The son of the late Colonel Morton of Milnwood, who commanded a
regiment of horse with great courage at Dunbar and Inverkeithing," said
a gentleman beside Lady Margaret.
"Ay, and before that, who fought for the Covenanters, both at Marston
Moor and Philipshaugh," said Lady Margaret, sighing. "His son ought to
dispense with intruding himself into the company of those to whom his
name must bring unpleasing recollections."
"You forget, my dear lady, he comes here to discharge suit and service
in name for his uncle. He is an old miser, and although probably against
the grain, sends the young gentleman to save pecuniary pains and
penalties. The youngster is, I suppose, happy enough to escape for the
day from the dullness of the old home at Milnwood."
The company now dispersed, excepting such as, having tried their
dexterity at the popinjay, were, by ancient custom, obliged to partake
of a grace-cup with their captain, who, though he spared the cup
himself, took care it should go round with due celerity among the rest.
On leaving the alehouse, a stranger observed to Morton that he was
riding towards Milnwood, and asked for the advantage of his company.
"Certainly," said Morton, though there was a gloomy and relentless
severity in the man's manner from which he recoiled, and they rode off
together.
They had not long left, when Cornet Grahame, a kinsman of Claverhouse,
entered with the news that the Archbishop of St. Andrews had been
murdered by a body of the rebel Whigs.
He read their descriptions, and it was clear that the stern stranger who
had just left with Henry Morton, was Balfour of Burley, the actual
commander of the band of assassins, though Morton himself knew nothing
of Burley's terrible deed.
"Horse, horse, and pursue, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame. "The
murdering dog's head is worth its weight in gold."
_II.--Henry Morton's Escape_
The dragoons soon arrived at Milnwood, and carried off Henry Morton
prisoner for having given a night's shelter to Balfour of Burley, an old
military comrade of his father's. Morton acknowledged he had done this,
but refused to give any other information. Hitherto he had meddled with
no party in the state. They decided to bring him before Colonel Grahame
of Claverhouse, who was expected next day at the Castle of Tillietudlem,
the residence of Lady Margaret Bellenden.
Although Henry Morton had prevailed upon the sergeant to let him be
muffled up in one of the soldier's cloaks, Miss Edith Bellenden found it
impossible to withdraw her eyes from him, and her waiting maid soon
discovered his identity, and found means for the lovers (for such they
were) to meet in secret in the room where the prisoner was confined.
"You are lost, you are lost, if you are to plead your cause with
Claverhouse!" sighed Edith. "The primate was his intimate friend and
early patron. 'No excuse, no subterfuge,' he wrote to my grandmother,
'shall save either those connected with the deed, or such as have given
them countenance and shelter.'"
They were interrupted by the guard, and Morton, assuming a firmness he
was far from feeling, whispered, "Farewell, Edith; leave me to my fate;
it cannot be beyond endurance, since you are interested in it. Good
night, good night! Do not remain here till you are discovered."
"Everyone has his taste, to be sure," said the sentinel; "but, d---- me
if I would vex so sweet a girl for all the Whigs that ever swore a
covenant!"
After breakfast next day, Major Bellenden, Edith's grand-uncle, to whom
she had written, approached Claverhouse, to plead for the life of the
son of his old friend, but she heard the reply.
"It cannot be, Major Bellenden; lenity in his case is altogether beyond
the bounds of my commission. And here comes Evandale with news, as I
think. What tidings do you bring us, Evandale?" addressing the young
lord, who now entered in complete uniform but with dress disordered, and
boots bespattered.
"Unpleasant news, sir," was the reply. "A large body of Whigs are in
arms among the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion."
Claverhouse immediately bid them sound to horse, saying, "There are
rogues enough in the country to make the rebels five times their
strength, if they are not checked at once."
"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they expect a
strong body of the indulged Presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, the
son of the famous old Roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton."
"It's a lie!" said the major hastily, and begged that Henry Morton might
at once be heard himself. Evandale drew near to Miss Bellenden, and
addressed her in a manner, expressing a feeling much deeper and more
agitating than was conveyed in his phrases.
"I will but dispose of this young fellow," said Claverhouse, "and then
Lord Evandale--I am sorry to interrupt your conversation--but then we
must mount. Why do you not bring up your prisoner? And hark ye, let two
files load their carbines."
Edith broke through the restraint that had hitherto kept her silent, and
entreated Lord Evandale to use his interest with his colonel, becoming
bolder and more urgent as the soldiers entered with the prisoner, whom
they had just informed that Lady Margaret's niece was interceding for
his life with Lord Evandale, to whom she was about to be married.
The unfortunate prisoner heard enough, as he passed behind Edith's seat,
of the broken expressions which passed between her and Lord Evandale, to
confirm all that the soldiers had told him.
That moment made a singular and instantaneous change in his character.
Desperate himself, he determined to support the rights of his country,
insulted in his person. So he declined to answer any questions, and
assured Claverhouse that there were yet Scotsmen who could assert the
liberties of Scotland.
"Make you peace then, with Heaven, in five minutes space. Bothwell, lead
him down to the courtyard, and draw up your party!"
A silence of horror fell on all but the speaker at these words. Edith
sprang up, but her strength gave way, and she would have fallen had she
not been caught by her attendant.
Evandale at once addressed Claverhouse, and calling him aside reminded
him of services rendered by his family in an affair of the privy
council.
"Certainly, my dear Evandale," answered Claverhouse; "I am not a man who
forgets such debts. How can I evince my gratitude?"
"I will hold the debt cancelled," said Lord Evandale, "if you will spare
this young man's life."
"Evandale," replied Claverhouse in great surprise, "you are
mad--absolutely mad. You see him? He is tottering on the verge between
time and eternity; yet his is the only cheek unblanched, the only heart
that keeps its usual time. Look at him well. If that man should ever
come to head an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for."
He then said aloud, "Young man, your life is for the present safe, owing
to the interference of your friends." So Morton was hurried down to the
courtyard, where three other prisoners remained under an escort of
dragoons; soon they were all pressing forward to overtake the main body,
as it was supposed they would come in sight of the enemy in less than
two hours. It was obvious, when they did so that there were old soldiers
with the rebels from the choice of the ground, and the order of battle
in which they waited the assault. Cornet Grahame was sent with a flag of
truce to offer a free pardon to all but the murderers of the archbishop
if they would disperse themselves. On his persisting in addressing the
people themselves in spite of the warning of their spokesman, Balfour of
Burley, whom he recognised. "Then the Lord grant grace to thy
soul--amen!" said Burley, and fired, and Cornet Grahame dropped from his
horse, mortally wounded.
"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.
"My duty," said Balfour firmly. "Is it not written 'Thou shalt be
zealous even to slaying?' Let those who dare now venture to talk of
truce or pardon!"
Claverhouse saw his nephew fall; with a glance of indescribable emotion
he looked at Evandale. "I will avenge him, or die," exclaimed Evandale,
and rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and that of
the deceased cornet, each striving to be first in revenge. They soon
fell into confusion in the broken ground. In vain Claverhouse shouted,
"Halt! halt! This rashness will undo us." The enemy set upon them with
the utmost fury, crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines!
Down with the Dagon and all his adherents!" Though the young nobleman
fought like a lion, he was forced to retreat, and soon Claverhouse was
compelled to follow his troops in their flight; as he passed Henry
Morton and the other prisoners just released from their bonds,
Evandale's horse was shot, and Morton rushed forward just in time to
prevent his being killed by Balfour himself in hot pursuit.
_III.--The Presbyterian Insurgents_
John Balfour of Burley, a man of some fortune and good family, a soldier
from his youth upwards, aspired to place himself at the head of the
Presbyterian forces then in arms against the English government. On this
account he was particularly anxious to secure the accession of young
Henry Morton to the cause of the insurgents, for the memory of Morton's
father was esteemed among the Presbyterians, and few persons of decent
quality had so far joined the rising.
Morton, on his side, was willing to join in any insurrection which
promised freedom to the country though he abhorred the murder of Sharpe,
and the tenets of the wilder set of Cameronians, by whom the seeds of
disunion were already thickly sown in the ill-fated party.
At the nomination of the council of the Presbyterian army Morton was
sent with the main body to march against Glasgow, while Burley, with a
chosen body of five hundred men, remained behind to blockade the castle
of Tillietudlem. A command to surrender had been scorned with
indignation by Major Bellenden and Lord Evandale.
A few weeks later a pause in the hostilities enabled Morton, anxious for
the fate of Tillietudlem, to return to Burley's camp, where he learnt
that Evandale had been taken prisoner, and was to be hanged at daybreak
unless the castle surrendered.
Burley sullenly yielded his prisoner into Morton's hands, and Evandale,
released on parole by the man whose life he had previously saved,
undertook to set out for Edinburgh, with a list of the grievances of the
insurgents. A mutiny within the castle drove Major Bellenden to evacuate
Tillietudlem; the ladies acquiesced in the decision, and when the
scarlet and blue colours of the Scottish Covenant floated from the keep
of Tillietudlem, the cavalcade led by the major was on the road towards
Edinburgh.
Lord Evandale's good word saved Morton a second time when Claverhouse
routed the Presbyterian army at Bothwell Bridge. Morton was taken
prisoner, but his life was spared, and at Leith he was put on board a
vessel bound for Rotterdam with letters of recommendation to the Prince
of Orange.
_IV.--Henry Morton Returns in Time_
By the prudent tolerance of King William Scotland narrowly escaped the
horrors of a protracted civil war. The triumphant Whigs re-established
Presbytery as the national religion, and only the extreme sect of
Cameronians on the one side, and the Highlanders, who were for the
deposed Stuart king, on the other, disturbed the peace of the land.
Balfour of Burley refused to sheathe his sword, and Evandale followed
his old commander Claverhouse (now Viscount Dundee) in joining the rebel
Jacobites. Major Bellenden was dead.
No news had ever come of Henry Morton, and it was believed with good
reason he was lost when the vessel in which he sailed went down with
crew and passengers. But Morton was already back in Scotland, in the
service of King William.
In the belief of her Morton's death, Edith Bellenden had become
betrothed to Lord Evandale, though she postponed marriage, and her
prayers went out to him that he would refrain from joining Claverhouse,
when he came to bid her farewell.
"Oh, my lord, remain!" said Edith. "Do not rush on death and ruin!
Remain to be our prop and stay, and hope everything from time."
"It is too late, Edith," answered Lord Evandale. "I know you cannot love
me, that your heart is dead or absent. But were it otherwise, the die is
now cast."
As he spoke thus an old servant rushed in to say a party of horse headed
by one Basil Olifant, a rascal who was anxious to take Evandale for the
sake of reward, had beset the outlets of the house.
"Oh, hide yourself, my lord!" cried Edith, in an agony of terror.
"I will not, by Heaven!" answered Lord Evandale. "What right has the
villain to assail me or stop my passage? I will make my way, were he
backed by a regiment. And now, farewell, Edith!"
He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then rushed out and
mounted his horse, and with his servants rode composedly down the
avenue.
As soon as Lord Evandale appeared, Olifant's party spread themselves a
little, as if preparing to enclose him. Their leader stood fast,
supported by three men, two of whom were dragoons, the third in dress
and appearance a countryman, all well-armed. Whoever had before seen the
strong figure, stern features, and resolved manner of the third
attendant could have no difficulty in recognising Balfour of Burley.
"Follow me," said Lord Evandale to his servants, "and if we are forcibly
opposed, do as I do."
He advanced at a hand gallop; Olifant called out, "Shoot the traitor!"
and four carbines were fired upon the unfortunate nobleman. He reeled in
the saddle, and fell from his horse mortally wounded. His servants fired
and Basil Olifant and a dragoon were stretched lifeless on the ground.
Burley, whose blood was up, exclaimed, "Down with the Midianites!" and
advanced, sword in hand. At this instant the clatter of horses' hoofs
was heard, and a party of horse appeared on the fatal field. They were
foreign dragoons led by a Dutch commander, accompanied by Morton and a
civil magistrate.
Only the belief that Evandale was to marry Edith had kept Morton
hitherto from revealing his return.
A hasty call to surrender, in the name of God and King William, was
obeyed by all except Burley, who turned his horse and attempted to
escape. Pursued by soldiers he made for the river, but was shot in the
middle of the stream, and felt himself dangerously wounded. He returned
towards the bank he had left, waving his hand as if in token of
surrender. The troopers ceased firing, and as he approached a dragoon
laid hands on him. Burley, in requital, grasped his throat, and both
came headlong into the river, and were swept down the stream. They were
twice seen to rise, the trooper trying to swim, and Burley clinging to
him in a manner that showed his desire that both should perish. Their
corpses were taken out about a quarter of a mile down the river.
While the soul of this stern enthusiast flitted to its account, that of
the brave and generous Lord Evandale was also released. Morton had flung
himself from his horse, to render his dying friend all the aid in his
power. Evandale knew him, for he pressed his hand, and intimated by
signs his wish to be conveyed to the house. This was done with all the
care possible, and the clamorous grief of the lamenting household was
far exceeded in intensity by the silent agony of Edith. Unconscious even
of the presence of Morton, she was not aware that fate, who was removing
one faithful lover, had restored another as if from the grave, until
Lord Evandale taking their hands in his, united them together, raised
his face as if to pray for a blessing on them, and sunk back and expired
in the next moment.
* * * * *
The marriage of Morton and Miss Bellenden was delayed for several months
on account of Lord Evandale's death. Lady Margaret was prevailed on to
countenance Morton, who now stood high in the reputation of the world,
and Edith was her only hope, and she wished to see her happy. So Lady
Margaret put her prejudice aside, for Morton's being an old Covenanter
stuck sorely with her for some time, and consoled herself with the
recollection that his most sacred majesty Charles the Second had once
observed to her that marriage went by destiny.
* * * * *