I am bound to Bothwell-hill,
Where I maun either do or die.
Old Ballad.
[Illustration: The Battle of Bothwell Bridge--128
There was now a pause in the military movements on both sides. The
government seemed contented to prevent the rebels advancing towards the
capital, while the insurgents were intent upon augmenting and
strengthening their forces. For this purpose, they established a sort of
encampment in the park belonging to the ducal residence at Hamilton, a
centrical situation for receiving their recruits, and where they were
secured from any sudden attack, by having the Clyde, a deep and rapid
river, in front of their position, which is only passable by a long and
narrow bridge, near the castle and village of Bothwell.
Morton remained here for about a fortnight after the attack on Glasgow,
actively engaged in his military duties. He had received more than one
communication from Burley, but they only stated, in general, that the
Castle of Tillietudlem continued to hold out. Impatient of suspense upon
this most interesting subject, he at length intimated to his colleagues
in command his desire, or rather his intention,--for he saw no reason why
he should not assume a license which was taken by every one else in this
disorderly army,--to go to Milnwood for a day or two to arrange some
private affairs of consequence. The proposal was by no means approved of;
for the military council of the insurgents were sufficiently sensible of
the value of his services to fear to lose them, and felt somewhat
conscious of their own inability to supply his place. They could not,
however, pretend to dictate to him laws more rigid than they submitted to
themselves, and he was suffered to depart on his journey without any
direct objection being stated. The Reverend Mr Poundtext took the same
opportunity to pay a visit to his own residence in the neighbourhood of
Milnwood, and favoured Morton with his company on the journey. As the
country was chiefly friendly to their cause, and in possession of their
detached parties, excepting here and there the stronghold of some old
cavaliering Baron, they travelled without any other attendant than the
faithful Cuddie.
It was near sunset when they reached Milnwood, where Poundtext bid adieu
to his companions, and travelled forward alone to his own manse, which
was situated half a mile's march beyond Tillietudlem. When Morton was
left alone to his own reflections, with what a complication of feelings
did he review the woods, banks, and fields, that had been familiar to
him! His character, as well as his habits, thoughts, and occupations, had
been entirely changed within the space of little more than a fortnight,
and twenty days seemed to have done upon him the work of as many years. A
mild, romantic, gentle-tempered youth, bred up in dependence, and
stooping patiently to the control of a sordid and tyrannical relation,
had suddenly, by the rod of oppression and the spur of injured feeling,
been compelled to stand forth a leader of armed men, was earnestly
engaged in affairs of a public nature, had friends to animate and enemies
to contend with, and felt his individual fate bound up in that of a
national insurrection and revolution. It seemed as if he had at once
experienced a transition from the romantic dreams of youth to the labours
and cares of active manhood. All that had formerly interested him was
obliterated from his memory, excepting only his attachment to Edith; and
even his love seemed to have assumed a character more manly and
disinterested, as it had become mingled and contrasted with other duties
and feelings. As he revolved the particulars of this sudden change, the
circumstances in which it originated, and the possible consequences of
his present career, the thrill of natural anxiety which passed along his
mind was immediately banished by a glow of generous and high-spirited
confidence.
"I shall fall young," he said, "if fall I must, my motives misconstrued,
and my actions condemned, by those whose approbation is dearest to me.
But the sword of liberty and patriotism is in my hand, and I will neither
fall meanly nor unavenged. They may expose my body, and gibbet my limbs;
but other days will come, when the sentence of infamy will recoil against
those who may pronounce it. And that Heaven, whose name is so often
profaned during this unnatural war, will bear witness to the purity of
the motives by which I have been guided."
Upon approaching Milnwood, Henry's knock upon the gate no longer
intimated the conscious timidity of a stripling who has been out of
bounds, but the confidence of a man in full possession of his own rights,
and master of his own actions,--bold, free, and decided. The door was
cautiously opened by his old acquaintance, Mrs Alison Wilson, who started
back when she saw the steel cap and nodding plume of the martial visitor.
"Where is my uncle, Alison?" said Morton, smiling at her alarm.
"Lordsake, Mr Harry! is this you?" returned the old lady. "In troth, ye
garr'd my heart loup to my very mouth--But it canna be your ainsell, for
ye look taller and mair manly-like than ye used to do."
"It is, however, my own self," said Henry, sighing and smiling at the
same time; "I believe this dress may make me look taller, and these
times, Ailie, make men out of boys."
"Sad times indeed!" echoed the old woman; "and O that you suld be
endangered wi'them! but wha can help it?--ye were ill eneugh guided, and,
as I tell your uncle, if ye tread on a worm it will turn."
"You were always my advocate, Ailie," said he, and the housekeeper no
longer resented the familiar epithet, "and would let no one blame me but
yourself, I am aware of that,--Where is my uncle?"
"In Edinburgh," replied Alison; "the honest man thought it was best to
gang and sit by the chimley when the reek rase--a vex'd man he's been and
a feared--but ye ken the Laird as weel as I do."
"I hope he has suffered nothing in health?" said Henry.
"Naething to speak of," answered the housekeeper, "nor in gudes
neither--we fended as weel as we could; and, though the troopers of
Tillietudlem took the red cow and auld Hackie, (ye'll mind them weel;)
yet they sauld us a gude bargain o' four they were driving to the
Castle."
"Sold you a bargain?" said Morton; "how do you mean?"
"Ou, they cam out to gather marts for the garrison," answered the
housekeeper; "but they just fell to their auld trade, and rade through
the country couping and selling a' that they gat, like sae mony
west-country drovers. My certie, Major Bellenden was laird o' the least
share o' what they lifted, though it was taen in his name."
"Then," said Morton, hastily, "the garrison must be straitened for
provisions?"
"Stressed eneugh," replied Ailie--"there's little doubt o' that."
A light instantly glanced on Morton's mind.
"Burley must have deceived me--craft as well as cruelty is permitted by
his creed." Such was his inward thought; he said aloud, "I cannot stay,
Mrs Wilson, I must go forward directly."
"But, oh! bide to eat a mouthfu'," entreated the affectionate
housekeeper, "and I'll mak it ready for you as I used to do afore thae
sad days," "It is impossible," answered Morton.--"Cuddie, get our horses
ready."
"They're just eating their corn," answered the attendant.
"Cuddie!" exclaimed Ailie; "what garr'd ye bring that ill-faur'd, unlucky
loon alang wi' ye?--It was him and his randie mother began a' the
mischief in this house."
"Tut, tut," replied Cuddie, "ye should forget and forgie, mistress.
Mither's in Glasgow wi' her tittie, and sall plague ye nae mair; and I'm
the Captain's wallie now, and I keep him tighter in thack and rape than
ever ye did;--saw ye him ever sae weel put on as he is now?"
"In troth and that's true," said the old housekeeper, looking with great
complacency at her young master, whose mien she thought much improved by
his dress. "I'm sure ye ne'er had a laced cravat like that when ye were
at Milnwood; that's nane o' my sewing."
"Na, na, mistress," replied Cuddie, "that's a cast o' my hand--that's ane
o' Lord Evandale's braws."
"Lord Evandale?" answered the old lady, "that's him that the whigs are
gaun to hang the morn, as I hear say."
"The whigs about to hang Lord Evandale?" said Morton, in the greatest
surprise.
"Ay, troth are they," said the housekeeper. "Yesterday night he made a
sally, as they ca't, (my mother's name was Sally--I wonder they gie
Christian folk's names to sic unchristian doings,)--but he made an
outbreak to get provisions, and his men were driven back and he was taen,
'an' the whig Captain Balfour garr'd set up a gallows, and swore, (or
said upon his conscience, for they winna swear,) that if the garrison was
not gien ower the morn by daybreak, he would hing up the young lord, poor
thing, as high as Haman.--These are sair times!--but folk canna help
them--sae do ye sit down and tak bread and cheese until better meat's
made ready. Ye suldna hae kend a word about it, an I had thought it was
to spoil your dinner, hinny."
"Fed, or unfed," exclaimed Morton, "saddle the horses instantly, Cuddie.
We must not rest until we get before the Castle."
And, resisting all Ailie's entreaties, they instantly resumed their
journey.
Morton failed not to halt at the dwelling of Poundtext, and summon him to
attend him to the camp. That honest divine had just resumed for an
instant his pacific habits, and was perusing an ancient theological
treatise, with a pipe in his mouth, and a small jug of ale beside him, to
assist his digestion of the argument. It was with bitter ill-will that he
relinquished these comforts (which he called his studies) in order to
recommence a hard ride upon a high-trotting horse. However, when he knew
the matter in hand, he gave up, with a deep groan, the prospect of
spending a quiet evening in his own little parlour; for he entirely
agreed with Morton, that whatever interest Burley might have in rendering
the breach between the presbyterians and the government irreconcilable,
by putting the young nobleman to death, it was by no means that of the
moderate party to permit such an act of atrocity. And it is but doing
justice to Mr Poundtext to add, that, like most of his own persuasion, he
was decidedly adverse to any such acts of unnecessary violence; besides,
that his own present feelings induced him to listen with much complacence
to the probability held out by Morton, of Lord Evandale's becoming a
mediator for the establishment of peace upon fair and moderate terms.
With this similarity of views, they hastened their journey, and arrived
about eleven o'clock at night at a small hamlet adjacent to the Castle at
Tillietudlem, where Burley had established his head-quarters.
They were challenged by the sentinel, who made his melancholy walk at the
entrance of the hamlet, and admitted upon declaring their names and
authority in the army. Another soldier kept watch before a house, which
they conjectured to be the place of Lord Evandale's confinement, for a
gibbet of such great height as to be visible from the battlements of the
Castle, was erected before it, in melancholy confirmation of the truth of
Mrs Wilson's report. [Note: The Cameronians had suffered persecution, but
it was without learning mercy. We are informed by Captain Crichton, that
they had set up in their camp a huge gibbet, or gallows, having many
hooks upon it, with a coil of new ropes lying beside it, for the
execution of such royalists as they might make prisoners. Guild, in his
Bellum Bothuellianum, describes this machine particularly.] Morton
instantly demanded to speak with Burley, and was directed to his
quarters. They found him reading the Scriptures, with his arms lying
beside him, as if ready for any sudden alarm. He started upon the
entrance of his colleagues in office.
"What has brought ye hither?" said Burley, hastily. "Is there bad news
from the army?"
"No," replied Morton; "but we understand that there are measures adopted
here in which the safety of the army is deeply concerned--Lord Evandale
is your prisoner?"
"The Lord," replied Burley, "hath delivered him into our hands."
"And you will avail yourself of that advantage, granted you by Heaven, to
dishonour our cause in the eyes of all the world, by putting a prisoner
to an ignominious death?"
"If the house of Tillietudlem be not surrendered by daybreak," replied
Burley, "God do so to me and more also, if he shall not die that death to
which his leader and patron, John Grahame of Claverhouse, hath put so
many of God's saints."
"We are in arms," replied Morton, "to put down such cruelties, and not to
imitate them, far less to avenge upon the innocent the acts of the
guilty. By what law can you justify the atrocity you would commit?"
"If thou art ignorant of it," replied Burley, "thy companion is well
aware of the law which gave the men of Jericho to the sword of Joshua,
the son of Nun."
"But we," answered the divine, "live under a better dispensation, which
instructeth us to return good for evil, and to pray for those who
despitefully use us and persecute us."
"That is to say," said Burley, "that thou wilt join thy grey hairs to his
green youth to controvert me in this matter?"
"We are," rejoined Poundtext, "two of those to whom, jointly with
thyself, authority is delegated over this host, and we will not permit
thee to hurt a hair of the prisoner's head. It may please God to make him
a means of healing these unhappy breaches in our Israel."
"I judged it would come to this," answered Burley, "when such as thou
wert called into the council of the elders."
"Such as I?" answered Poundtext,--"And who am I, that you should name me
with such scorn?--Have I not kept the flock of this sheep-fold from the
wolves for thirty years? Ay, even while thou, John Balfour, wert fighting
in the ranks of uncircumcision, a Philistine of hardened brow and bloody
hand--Who am I, say'st thou?"
"I will tell thee what thou art, since thou wouldst so fain know," said
Burley. "Thou art one of those, who would reap where thou hast not sowed,
and divide the spoil while others fight the battle--thou art one of those
that follow the gospel for the loaves and for the fishes--that love their
own manse better than the Church of God, and that would rather draw their
stipends under prelatists or heathens, than be a partaker with those
noble spirits who have cast all behind them for the sake of the
Covenant."
"And I will tell thee, John Balfour," returned Poundtext, deservedly
incensed, "I will tell thee what thou art. Thou art one of those, for
whose bloody and merciless disposition a reproach is flung upon the whole
church of this suffering kingdom, and for whose violence and
blood-guiltiness, it is to be feared, this fair attempt to recover our
civil and religious rights will never be honoured by Providence with the
desired success."
"Gentlemen," said Morton, "cease this irritating and unavailing
recrimination; and do you, Mr Balfour, inform us, whether it is your
purpose to oppose the liberation of Lord Evandale, which appears to us a
profitable measure in the present position of our affairs?"
"You are here," answered Burley, "as two voices against one; but you will
not refuse to tarry until the united council shall decide upon this
matter?"
"This," said Morton, "we would not decline, if we could trust the hands
in whom we are to leave the prisoner.--But you know well," he added,
looking sternly at Burley, "that you have already deceived me in this
matter."
"Go to," said Burley, disdainfully,--"thou art an idle inconsiderate boy,
who, for the black eyebrows of a silly girl, would barter thy own faith
and honour, and the cause of God and of thy country."
"Mr Balfour," said Morton, laying his hand on his sword, "this language
requires satisfaction."
"And thou shalt have it, stripling, when and where thou darest," said
Burley; "I plight thee my good word on it."
Poundtext, in his turn, interfered to remind them of the madness of
quarrelling, and effected with difficulty a sort of sullen
reconciliation.
"Concerning the prisoner," said Burley, "deal with him as ye think fit. I
wash my hands free from all consequences. He is my prisoner, made by my
sword and spear, while you, Mr Morton, were playing the adjutant at
drills and parades, and you, Mr Poundtext, were warping the Scriptures
into Erastianism. Take him unto you, nevertheless, and dispose of him as
ye think meet.--Dingwall," he continued, calling a sort of aid-de-camp,
who slept in the next apartment, "let the guard posted on the malignant
Evandale give up their post to those whom Captain Morton shall appoint to
relieve them.--The prisoner," he said, again addressing Poundtext and
Morton, "is now at your disposal, gentlemen. But remember, that for all
these things there will one day come a term of heavy accounting."
So saying, he turned abruptly into an inner apartment, without bidding
them good evening. His two visitors, after a moment's consideration,
agreed it would be prudent to ensure the prisoner's personal safety, by
placing over him an additional guard, chosen from their own parishioners.
A band of them happened to be stationed in the hamlet, having been
attached, for the time, to Burley's command, in order that the men might
be gratified by remaining as long as possible near to their own homes.
They were, in general, smart, active young fellows, and were usually
called by their companions, the Marksmen of Milnwood. By Morton's desire,
four of these lads readily undertook the task of sentinels, and he left
with them Headrigg, on whose fidelity he could depend, with instructions
to call him, if any thing remarkable happened.
This arrangement being made, Morton and his colleague took possession,
for the night, of such quarters as the over-crowded and miserable hamlet
could afford them. They did not, however, separate for repose till they
had drawn up a memorial of the grievances of the moderate presbyterians,
which was summed up with a request of free toleration for their religion
in future, and that they should be permitted to attend gospel ordinances
as dispensed by their own clergymen, without oppression or molestation.
Their petition proceeded to require that a free parliament should be
called for settling the affairs of church and state, and for redressing
the injuries sustained by the subject; and that all those who either now
were, or had been, in arms, for obtaining these ends, should be
indemnified. Morton could not but strongly hope that these terms, which
comprehended all that was wanted, or wished for, by the moderate party
among the insurgents, might, when thus cleared of the violence of
fanaticism, find advocates even among the royalists, as claiming only the
ordinary rights of Scottish freemen.
He had the more confidence of a favourable reception, that the Duke of
Monmouth, to whom Charles had intrusted the charge of subduing this
rebellion, was a man of gentle, moderate, and accessible disposition,
well known to be favourable to the presbyterians, and invested by the
king with full powers to take measures for quieting the disturbances in
Scotland. It seemed to Morton, that all that was necessary for
influencing him in their favour was to find a fit and sufficiently
respectable channel of communication, and such seemed to be opened
through the medium of Lord Evandale. He resolved, therefore, to visit the
prisoner early in the morning, in order to sound his dispositions to
undertake the task of mediator; but an accident happened which led him to
anticipate his purpose.