Tales of the Covenanters

by Ellen Emma Guthrie

"What can it be?" said one of the party, whose pallid face and faltering voice betokened the agitation. under which he laboured.

"O! it is just the wind that has blown down something about the barn," replied one of his comrades.

At the mention of the word barn Andrew Hamilton gave utterance to a loud exclamation, and seizing a lantern that stood on the table, darted towards the door, closely followed by his astonished companions. With a sinking heart, he pursued his way; and to his unspeakable horror, the first object that greeted his eyesight, on his arriving at the spot, was the door—the key of which he was carrying for safety in his pocket—lying prostrate on the ground, bereft of its hinges. Impatient to learn the worst, he rushed into the barn; it was empty—the prisoner was gone.

The reader must now please to accompany us into the interior of Lag Tower, in the banqueting hall of which several gentlemen are seated round a long oaken table, strewn with the remains of dessert, half-emptied bottles of wine, drinking cups, etc. The gentleman presiding over the entertainment, and whose hoarse laugh even now resounds through the hall, is the dreaded persecutor, Sir Robert Grierson; on his right hand are seated Captain Bruce and Captain Dalziel, also notorious for their dreadful cruelties practised towards the Covenanters; while Lieutenant Livingstone, Cornet Douglas, and others of lesser note, occupy the remaining seats. The hall, which is long and narrow in its proportions, is lighted up by the aid of pine-torches stuck in the wall, and the huge fire, as it roars in the capacious chimney, casts a ruddy glow over the swarthy faces of the revellers, and dances fantastically over the suits of time-honoured armour, swords, guns, pistols and other warlike weapons with which the walls of the apartment are adorned.

A pause has ensued in the conversation—it is the Laird who breaks it. "Well, Dalziel, and so you managed to make the old Whig swallow the oath after all, ha, ha, ha! Upon my word, it is well worth all the trouble we have been put to during these troublous times, just to witness the rare state of terror into which some of these canting knaves are thrown when they imagine their last hour is come. Down they go smack upon their knees, turning up their eyes, and if you only permitted them, they would spend at least three hours in praying for the steadfast upholding of the most blessed Kirk and Covenant; and, for my part, I don't believe one out of twenty understands the precise meaning of the words; it is just the fact of their having them so constantly dinned into their ears by these old maundering hypocrites, whom they regard as the precious salt of the earth, that impresses them with the belief of their embracing everything that ought to be prayed for. Little encouragement do they get from me in that line. At the bare whisper of the words 'Covenants of Grace' I discharge my pistol close to their ears, and they very soon come down to earth again, and endeavour to enter into a covenant of mercy with me, whom they style the Man of Sin; but they soon discover temporising does not do for me: my words are few and plain. Take the oath at once or suffer the penalty. 'Mercy, mercy, Sir Robert! remember our wives and helpless little ones at home; what will become of them should we be deprived of our lives?' Then take the oath! I find this peremptory mode of speech does my business far more effectually than any long-winded discourse; that's what they are accustomed to, and they would willingly listen for hours, if we had only breath sufficient to hold out so long, to any amount of rubbish with which it might please us to cram them; but the brevity of speech with which I issue forth my demands puts them at once to the rout; and the short and the long of the matter is, they are either brought to hear reason, or look their last upon the sun."

"It is really extraordinary how many maintain their firmness even to the last," said Captain Dalziel, as he filled his goblet to the brim and drained it at a single draught; "they seem to take a pride in suffering death, and I firmly believe would rather lose fifty lives, or endure any amount of torture, than allow the oath of abjuration to pass their lips."

"Ha, ha! my friend," exclaimed Sir Robert Grierson with a loud laugh, "I think I am the only one of you all who can manage these skulking fellows and compel them to take the oath in spite of themselves. Never shall I forget that scene in the church of Dairy, should I live to be an hundred; how horror-stricken the whole pack were!"

"Why, what did you do to them?" inquired Lieutenant Livingstone. "I have never heard what I considered to be a true version of that affair, although I have often wished to learn what really occurred on that occasion, as it seems to have made a great noise throughout the country."

"Why, you see," said the Laird in reply, "towards the beginning of last year I chanced to be in Galloway holding courts throughout the different parishes—and a fatiguing time I had of it, I can tell you. The Courts were wretchedly attended. Of course, ill-affected people did not come of their own accord, and there was not sufficient force to compel them to do so. Determined, however, not to be defeated, I one day assembled a large concourse of men and women—in fact, every one belonging to Dairy—in the parish church, without assigning any ostensible reason for so doing. After the church was filled to overflowing, I caused the door to be locked; and at the blast of my bugle, a band of trusty followers—previously made acquainted with my plans—came galloping up and instantly surrounded the church. This done I put my head in at one of the windows, and gazing with a wrathful countenance—though I could scarce forbear laughing outright—on the astonished group within, I shouted aloud, 'He or she, who wishes to leave this place alive, must instantly take the oath of abjuration!' Had a bombshell fallen in the midst of the assembled company, scattering death and ruin around, they could not have looked more appalled than they did on hearing these awful words. To all their prayers and entreaties—and they were not a few—I vouchsafed but the same reply—free egress and pardon to all those to whom I administer the oath. This was accompanied by a loud flourish of trumpets which seemed to complete the general consternation. 'O, Sir Robert, hae ye nae conscience, man, that ye tak sic a pleasure in making folks' lives a burden to them?' whined out an old witch, raising her apron to the corner of one eye, and looking at me hard from the other; 'do let me out; I am an auld woman——' 'The greater reason for your being a sensible one,' I replied; but she continued as though she heard me not. 'I have a large family, some of whom are biding at hame; and it would be an unco-like thing for the likes o' me to have it to say on my return that I had been and taken a non-juring oath, or some ither thing equally wicked. What chance, think ye, wad there be o' my getting to heaven after doing the likes o' that?' 'There appears to be very little chance of your getting there at present,' I said in reply; 'for, if you are an attentive reader of your Bible, as I trust you are, you must have observed the strict injunction to honour the king. And I think you will allow there is not much consideration for the person of his most gracious Majesty in your composition, or you would not refuse to take the oath which would at once prove to my satisfaction that you are a true and loyal subject.' 'Ay, ay,' she rejoined, 'that may be all very true; but it is not an earthly monarch we are bound to obey, when our consciences testify against his proceedings; and you know brawly yoursel', that the king has slipped away sadly from the straight line it behoved him to keep till, if not for his own sake, at least for the sakes of these pious and now persecuted men wha wad fain hae regarded him in the light o' a parent. But, oh, he is, indeed, a sad example o'——' 'Enough, enough, my good woman!' I exclaimed in an angry tone, for I was waxing wroth at the pertinacity with which she eluded the subject of the oath; and pulling a pistol out of my pocket, I affected to be examining the priming as though to make ready to fire should she not yield obedience to my wishes. The sight of the ugly weapon was enough. With a loud exclamation betwixt a groan and a howl, the old beldame testified her willingness to do my bidding; adding, she hoped she might not be held accountable for that day's work, as it was only to prevent the crime of murder she had given in. A few of those present, seeing how greatly things were against them, imitated her good example; while others, again, possessing the stubborn old Covenanting spirit, repelled with scorn all offers of pardon purchased at such a price. However, they soon discovered that if they were obstinate so were we; and being, moreover, thoroughly wearied of their confinement, and alarmed at the prospect of a still longer imprisonment, they gradually gave in one by one, until the whole had consented to come to terms. After having duly administered the oath—which seemed indeed a terrible ordeal for the most of them—I wound up the affair by exclaiming, 'Now you are a fold full of clean beasts—you may go away home;' upon which the doors were thrown open, and amid loud shouts of derisive laughter, the crest-fallen Covenanters issued forth, looking and muttering unutterable things."

Here Sir Robert ended his narration, and the loud shouts of approving merriment with which the recital was received, testified how much the listeners relished hearing of any practical joke that had for its object any one of the party who had rendered themselves so obnoxious to the then existing Government.