CHAPTER XV
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who frequently showed his familiarity with the Waverley Novels, regarded 'The Bride of Lammermoor' as Scott's highest achievement. He declared that it 'almost goes back to Æschylus for a counterpart, as a painting of Fate—leaving on every reader the impression of the highest and purest tragedy.' The dramatic close of the story is based upon a calamity which marred the private life of James Dalrymple, the first Lord Stair, a great lawyer, legal writer, and judge, who was the ancestor of a long line of distinguished advocates, judges, and public men.
This gentleman was born in Ayrshire in 1619. He was carefully educated, and when a young man lectured in the University of Glasgow on mathematics, logic, ethics, and politics. At twenty-nine he began the practice of law at Edinburgh, winning great fame in his profession, because of extensive legal attainments. His great work on 'The Institutions of the Law of Scotland' is still held in high esteem by Scottish lawyers, although the feudal law which it elucidated has become antiquated. It is considered, however, that something of its spirit still survives. He became a judge, was appointed President of the Court of Session, served as a member of the Scottish Parliament, and took a prominent part in various political and diplomatic undertakings. Unfortunately incurring the enmity of the Duke of York, he lost his influence at court and was deprived of office. Fearing prosecution for treason, he retired to Holland, returning, however, a year later in the suite of William of Orange. He lived to the age of seventy-six, his latest years saddened by the bitter attacks of his enemies. This is the man whom Scott introduces as Sir William Ashton, though without meaning to impute to Lord Stair the tricky and mean-spirited qualities of the fictitious character.
James Dalrymple was married in 1644 to Margaret Ross, the heiress of a large estate in Galloway. She was a woman of great ability and strong character, who seems to have exerted a powerful influence in promoting her husband's prosperity and political ambition. She shared his fortunes, whether good or bad, for nearly half a century, always exerting an imperious will, which even he did not dare to contradict, but ever faithful in advancing his interests. Following her husband's downfall, when the number of his enemies had greatly increased and his life was in danger, Lady Stair was accused of attending conventicles and of harbouring 'silenced preachers' in her house. Others went farther and accused her of witchcraft, maintaining that the great prosperity of her family was attributable solely to the lady's partnership with His Satanic Majesty. Whatever may have been the slanders directed against her good name, the Lady Stair of history was clearly the prototype of Lady Ashton.
The lord and lady of real life had a daughter Janet, who was betrothed, without the consent of her parents, to Lord Rutherford. Lady Stair's will asserted itself in opposition, and without consideration of her daughter's feelings, the mother proceeded to annul the engagement, notifying the lover that his fiancée had retracted her unlawful vow. After a stormy interview, in which Lord Rutherford argued his case with the determined mother in the presence of the younger woman, the latter, who had feebly remained silent and motionless, at last obeyed with sad reluctance her mother's command and gave back to her lover the half of a broken coin, which had been the symbol of their mutual pledge. In a burst of passion Lord Rutherford left the room and soon after went abroad never to return.
The marriage desired by Lady Stair now took place, the bridegroom being David Dunbar, the heir of an estate in Wigtownshire, the lady's native county. On the night of the wedding some tragic event took place which resulted in the death of Janet two weeks later. Either the bride stabbed the husband or the husband stabbed the bride. The family seem to have thrown a veil of secrecy over the whole affair and the exact truth was never positively known. According to one account, when the door of the chamber was opened, the young bridegroom lay upon the floor badly wounded, while the wife was found in a state of frenzy, screaming as the door opened, 'Tak' up your bonnie bridegroom.' Another story is that the mother, inspired by Satan, attempted the murder, the marriage having been contracted against her will, and that the bridegroom went crazy. A third rendition is that the disappointed lover concealed himself in the apartment and committed the crime.
Scott adopts the most plausible view, namely, that the young lady, forced to marry against her will, simply lost her reason and in a mad delirium assaulted her husband. That young gentleman recovered from his wounds. Thirteen years later, he was killed by a fall from his horse, a catastrophe which the novelist transfers to the disappointed suitor.
The scenery of the drama which led to such a tragic event is placed by the author in the Lammermuir Hills, a stretch of mountainous country lying along the borders of Haddington and Berwick, in the southeastern corner of Scotland. At the extreme eastern limits of this elevated section, the land drops abruptly into the North Sea, forming a line of precipitous cliffs, rising three or four hundred feet above the ocean. To gain some idea of the character of the region, we drove as far as the motor-car could carry us and came to a stop at the end of the road on the northern edge of the village of Northfield. A long walk, leading at first through an open field in which cattle were grazing, then along a narrow path by a brook, where numerous sheep were pasturing, thence by a winding road to the summit of a hill, brought me at last to the lighthouse of St. Abbs Head. Vast masses of rocks rise directly out of the ocean to enormous heights and stretch along the coast as far as the eye can see. Except for the lighthouse, there was no sign of life save the sea-fowl, which flew wildly in every direction, screaming in one incessant chorus of shrill complaint. A lowering sky added to the weird loneliness of the scene. I was gone so long that my wife, who wisely remained in the car, began to feel certain that I had tumbled over the rocks into the sea, and busied herself for an hour in unpleasant thoughts of how she should manage to get my remains home. But after nearly two hours, the remains came walking back without even the excitement of being chased by a wild bull. Thus do most of our worries melt away if we give them time enough.
Somewhere on this rugged shore was the castle of Wolf's Crag, the last remnant of the property of the Master of Ravenswood and the scene of Caleb Balderstone's wonderful expedients to maintain the honour of his house. Caleb, by the way, who would make a first-class performer in a farce comedy, and who served a useful purpose in relieving the strain of a sombre narrative, was not without a prototype in real life. His exploit in carrying off the roast goose and the brace of wild ducks from the kitchen of the cooper, to make a dinner for his master's guests, was based upon a story told to Scott by a nobleman of his acquaintance. A certain gentleman in reduced circumstances had a servant named John, whose resourcefulness was much like Caleb's. A party of four or five friends once sought to surprise this gentleman by unexpectedly presenting themselves for dinner, suspecting there would be no provision in the house for such an entertainment. But promptly as the village clock struck the hour for the noonday meal, John placed on the table 'a stately rump of boiled beef, with a proper accompaniment of greens, amply sufficient to dine the whole party.' He had simply appropriated the 'kail-pot' of a neighbour, leaving the latter and his friends to dine on bread and cheese, which, John said, was 'good enough for them.'