Tales of the Covenanters

by Ellen Emma Guthrie

"Was it not," said Andrew Ayton, "in reference to the gay doings of the monks of Pluscardine that the verses I am about to repeat were written?" So saying, he recited the following:—

A right merry set were the monks of old,

They lived on the best of cheer;

They drank the red wine out of cups of gold,

And hunted the fallow-deer.

Quoth father Anselmo, "I wot that we,

Thrive right well on the faithful's charity."

As they gazed on the walls of their Abbey,

All fair with carved work within,

"'Tis better to live where one may pray,

Than dwell in proud tents of sin."

Quoth father Anselmo, "Yes," said he,

"And thrive on the faithful's charity."

The Prior he raised his glass on high,

With the grape's juice mantling o'er;

He view'd the red wine with a critical eye.

And laughed as he call'd for more.

"Yes, Brother Anselmo, yes," said he,

"We thrive on the faithful's charity!"

Mr. Denoon could scarcely forbear smiling at the satirical nature of the song, as he answered, "that they might indeed be so; the monks no doubt having afforded, by their luxurious style of living, much cause for censure amongst those who were in some measure acquainted with the revelries held within the walls of Pluscardine;" adding, "ay, even within the walls of a sanctuary such as this, where men profess to devote themselves exclusively to the service of God, worldly thoughts and human feelings will intrude."

Inchdarnie, while gazing on the remains of former grandeur, could not help expressing his admiration of the buildings these men erected in honour of their God, and his regret that such splendid cathedrals as existed in Scotland at the time of the Reformation should have been so recklessly destroyed.

"It is certainly to be regretted," said Mr. Denoon in reply; "but at that time strong measures were deemed necessary for the expulsion of the Romish faith from Scotland, and the destruction of all connected therewith was deemed a proceeding requisite for the safety of the people. But, my son," he continued, "it is not the place where one worship, but the heart of the worshipper that God values. Believe me, a heart-felt prayer uttered by a soldier on the bloody field of battle, a few words of earnest supplication breathed on the solitary moor or sequestered glen, are more acceptable in his sight than the prayers of those kneeling in the lofty cathedral aisle, if their souls are not in unison with the scene around them."

In company with his reverend friend, Andrew Ayton visited numbers of the poorer class of people inhabiting the shire of Moray, and attended several meetings where Mr. Denoon officiated as clergyman. Before quitting Elgin, the latter, in accordance with a wish expressed to that effect, made known his intention of holding a conventicle in the ruins of Pluscardine. The morning of the day appointed for the meeting having arrived, Mr. Denoon and Andrew Ayton set off for the ruined priory. The day was beautiful, and on their arrival they found the interior of the ruins thronged with an eager multitude in readiness to receive them. Inchdarnie was impressed beyond imagination with the touching solemnity of the scene, as Mr. Denoon, taking his stand on a huge fragment of stone dislodged from the building by the relentless hand of time, proceeded to address the congregation. The rays of the sun at this moment penetrating through the ivy-clad windows, tinged with a golden lustre his venerable locks, and imparted an air of majesty to his countenance, in harmony with the heavenly messages he was entrusted to deliver. He spoke, and as his voice resounded through the vast space with the force of a trumpet, arousing his hearers to a sense of their danger, young Ayton felt the incapacity of the most gorgeous pageantry to add to the grandeur of words like these. While all eyes and ears were fixed on the preacher with an earnestness that precluded all other sights and sounds, Inchdarnie was startled on observing a strange face, almost shrouded beneath a brass helmet, gazing in at one of the windows. Unable to credit his senses, he kept his eyes fastened on the spot with an eagerness that was almost painful. His suspense was not of long duration. Again the same form presented itself, but this time accompanied by several others, who stationed themselves near every possible outlet, so as to shut out all hopes of escape. His worst fears realised, Andrew Ayton sprung from his seat, and shouting, "Betrayed, betrayed!" he drew his sword, and dashing through the midst of the terror-stricken congregation, placed himself by the side of Mr. Denoon as though determined to share his fate. The latter stood calm and resolute, while those by whom he was surrounded evinced their readiness to fight in their own and his defence. At this instant a soldier, who from his proud bearing and superior style of dress appeared to be the leader of the party, entered, and approaching Mr. Denoon, politely uncovered his head, while he expressed his regret that so unpleasant a duty as that of arresting Mr. Denoon should have devolved upon him; but that, however repugnant it might be to his own feelings to do so, yet his orders must be obeyed, and Mr. Denoon must therefore prepare to accompany them, adding that no harm was intended to any of the congregation, who were at liberty to retire if so inclined.

"Arrest Mr. Denoon!" cried Inchdarnie, "never!" so saying, he raised his sword on high, and was about to rush on the officer, when Mr. Denoon, throwing his arms around him, besought him to forbear; then turning to the commander, he demanded of him whither he had orders to take him?

"To Dundee," was the reply, "there to await further instructions."

"The Lord's will be done!" piously exclaimed Mr. Denoon, raising his hands and eyes to heaven as he spoke; then turning to the people, who loudly expressed their sympathy, he bade them be of good cheer, as the Lord would soon find them another and more zealous pastor.

While parting with Inchdarnie, many tears were shed on both sides, but to all his young friend's entreaties that he would permit him to strike one blow in his defence, he simply replied: "My son, it is the duty of a Christian to suffer, and to suffer meekly; if it please the Lord we shall meet again, and till then farewell;" so saying he expressed his readiness to depart, whereupon the officer, his head still uncovered, courteously led the way to the spot where his men stood armed to receive the prisoner.