“My friends and fellow-communicants, the ground which you now occupy is hallowed—it is holy. On this very spot did your forefathers meet, to hear the good, the pious, the persecuted Mr Samuel Austin—him whom the lawless hands of wicked men banished, with all he held dear, to the cave, and the moss, and the mountain. O Creehope! that now re-echoest to thy peaceful waters, what a tale thou couldst unfold of Austin’s nightly watchings, and prayer, and praises. O Queensberry, that rearest thy proud and double front to the very breast of heaven, have not thy long heath and deep morasses hid the servants of God when the pursuer was near at hand! O water! pure and peaceful water of Scaur, that now stealest along as if unwilling to disturb our present doings and meditation, thou didst hear him groan—thou didst mark his tears, and those of his deeply afflicted wife and family, on the day when his trial had come, and was not over; but now the servant of the Lord hath gone home to the house of his father. He and his are now around the throne, reaping, and greatly enjoying the reward of all their sufferings—the noble, the everlasting recompence of reward. He whom Lag pursued, and Douglas hunted, and Johnstone cursed with words of wicked and self-condemning import, is now following the Lamb whithersoever he goeth—yes, my friends, far and away, beyond that white cloud, which now comes betwixt heaven’s sun and us; far and away in the unfathomed depths of eternity—unmeasured fields of immensity—there dwell—there dwell—he and his. They are clothed in white, because they are worthy; and they cease not, night nor day, giving glory to Him that sits upon the throne. Go ye, my dear brethren, and do likewise; serve your God like him, through ill as well as good report, in adversity as well as prosperity, and the like reward will be yours.” My youthful feelings were naturally excited by this very, very powerful address, in consequence of which, on my way homewards, I laid my mother under contribution to the whole extent of her traditional information on the subject. This information has been, since that period, considerably increased by a perusal of a MS. diary lent me by the late worthy minister of Keir, Mr James Keyden, whose father—the minister of Penpont, already referred to—had found it, along with some other papers, in an old barrel in the manse garret. I cannot speak positively, but my impression is (and the present minister of Penpont, Mr Smith, will correct me if I am wrong), that this little roll of torn and soiled papers is lodged in the hands of the presbytery clerk, and may still be verified by actual inspection. From these diaries, the following narrative, true in all its leading facts, is composed.
Samuel Austin was a native of Closeburn, and born, apparently, about the year 1600. His father was a shepherd on the farm of Auchincairn; and the son was educated in a great measure by an uncle, who had seen a little service, having served as a soldier till the civil wars made him glad to retire on a small allowance, which the Government of the time had made to him. This person happened to be not only a soldier but a saint—that is, one who, in the language of the day, sought his God frequently and earnestly in prayer and supplication at a throne of mercy. He had, besides, been well-educated for the times in which he lived, and took special care that his young name-son, Samuel, should be benefited by his superior information, as well as by his genuine and ever-fervent piety. He would walk out with the boy of a summer evening; and, having caught his attention, and gained his good-will by short and striking narratives of his own adventures “by flood and field,” he would take him to the top of that immense heap of stones from which the farm manifestly has its appellation, and, pointing to the magnificent prospect around, raise the young spirit from earth to heaven—from the visible to the invisible—from the external work to the internal agent. He would then talk of God’s visible church on earth, of the Reformation and the reformers; of the burnings and slayings, and torturings for conscience’ sake; and of the efforts which had more recently been made to maintain beloved Presbytery in Scotland in particular. All this was accompanied by Bible and historical readings. It was then that young Samuel Austin grew up under his uncle’s tuition, without ever having entered a school door. When the boy was verging towards the man, he became every day more and more attached to the cause of liberty and Presbytery; and, at his uncle’s expense, was educated (according to the limited and imperfect usage of the times) for the church. When only twenty years of age, his learning and piety gained him an unanimous call from the adjoining parish of Penpont, where, at the period to which my narrative more particularly refers, he had laboured successfully and most acceptably for many years. In the meantime, his good friend, his uncle, had died, as also his parents; whilst a blind girl, his only sister, had come to live with him at the manse. About twelve months after his settlement, he married. For many years after Samuel Austin became minister of Penpont, all seems to have gone on well. I find his settlement noticed in the diary referred to in the following terms:—“16th September, 16—. This day I have been solemnly inducted into the pastoral charge of many souls. Lord, what am I or my father’s house, that thou shouldst honour me thus!”
Though re-instated on his throne, principally, by the Scottish Presbyterians, through the agency and address of the famous General Monk, and notwithstanding his having more than once sworn to the famous National League and Covenant, yet no sooner was Charles the Second, of infamous and treacherous memory, fairly established on the throne, than, yielding to the interested suggestions of intriguing and selfish counsellors, and to those of the arch-traitor Sharp, in particular, did this monarch set about establishing Prelacy in Scotland as well as in England, under the agency of Middleton and Lauderdale. By them, Sharp, Fairful, Wishart, Sydserff, Mitchel, Hamilton, Wallace, Fletcher, Haliburton, Forbes, Paterson, M’Kenzie, and Leighton, were ordered to be consecrated, and sent down to Scotland, with the titles of Bishop and Archbishop, to take their seats as an Estate in the Scottish Parliament and to forbid all induction into benefices, unless by the imposition of the prelates’ hands. This was immediately and extensively remonstrated against by Synods and Presbyteries, as well as by lay and clerical individuals, throughout Scotland in general, but more particularly throughout the countries south of the Forth and Clyde. It was throwing up, in spirit at least, all that their ancestors had been contending for, even unto the death by fire, for more than 150 years, and was, at the same time, submitting to an illegal and arbitrary adjustment of star-chambers and councils. With Presbytery was there all along entwined and commingled political freedom and equal law; and the Covenanters of the year 1662 saw full well, that if they sacrificed the one, they must likewise surrender the other. It was about this time, that, on account of Mr Austin’s neglect of obtaining conformation or induction of the then Bishop of Galloway, within whose diocese Penpont lay, he received a summons ordering him to appear incontinently before Bishop Hamilton (brother to Lord Belhaven), to answer for his contumacious neglect. As Mr Austin had originally been inducted and ordained, according to the rules of the Presbyterian Church, he did not feel himself at liberty to obey the bishop’s mandate.
Some time after this, the family of Mr Austin were placed in circumstances of a very trying nature. William Austin, an only son, and now a probationer of great promise and talents, had long been threatened with that fatal complaint which smiles whilst it drinks dry the well-springs of life. And sore and seriously did the alarmed and affectionate mother plead with her husband to satisfy the bishop, submit to a renewed presentation from Douglas of Queensberry, the lay patron, and thus reclaim his manse and stipend undisturbed and undisputed. But Samuel Austin was not to be diverted from his line of conceived duty, even by the most tender ties of the heart.
It was on a keen, frosty Saturday morning, in the month of January, whilst all the surrounding hills were covered with snow, and the pools, ponds, and lochs with ice, that the family of the manse were convened in the little parlour, and engaged in family worship, which was, as had been usual for some time, conducted by the young probationer, William; for although the fatal disease had not yet impaired his faculties, or very greatly reduced his strength, its presence was still manifest by the hectic spot in the cheek and the nightly fever. William had been selected as the future choice of a neighbouring congregation, should they be permitted to make their own selection; but the state of his health had made it manifest to all that his Master had not so determined. Whilst William was upon his knees (after having sung the psalm and read the chapter), pouring forth, in extempore and fervent expression, the feelings of himself and of his fellow-worshippers to the common and true God, through the one common and only Saviour, the door was rudely assailed, and ultimately forced open, and in came the harsh and bearded countenance of the afterwards notorious General Dalziell of Binns,[1] accompanied by a band of well accoutred dragoons.
“What have we here?” exclaimed the exasperated and really astonished intruder—giving, at the same time, the person engaged in prayer a rude push with his bootless foot[2]—“what have we got here?” addressing himself to one of the troop of the name of Johnston. “Why, here we have the whole batch—man, mistress, and maid—seeking Cromwell’s corkskrew. Come, have done with your canting and grunting, young one—up and be doing, thou old hoary traitor—clear up these blinkers, bonny Betty Blossom, for I have a message, in which ye are all somewhat concerned, from his Majesty, King Charles, God bless him! and his curse be on all his enemies. What! not grunt or growl an amen! Old Sam, I say, I have a polite message here from his Majesty’s Lord Chancellor, at the instance of my Lord Hamilton, Bishop of Galloway, to warn, denounce, and declare you a runnigate traitor, unless you shall, within eight days from and after this date, bestir your stumps, and wait upon his Lordship, in his palace at Whithorn; and there, and in that presence, receive and accept of ordination as an Episcopal curate from his Lordship—having first obtained a presentation to this living from the true and undisputed patron, my Lord Douglas of Queensberry.”
“That,” ejaculated, instantly and firmly, the resolute and determined servant of God—“That no power on earth nor under the earth—no force of arms nor menace of look—no Laird of Binns nor Bishop of Galloway—shall ever compel poor Samuel Austin, the honoured pastor of a Presbyterian people, to do.”
“Then,” replied General Dalziell, making use of an oath which it would be fearful, as well as impious, to repeat, “off you shall budge, this very day, hour, and instant, and betake yourselves—man, woman, and boy, rag-tag and bobtail—from this here snug, comfortable manse, to that there wide and roomy and northern county of Angus, far and away beyond the river Tay—ay, and until my Lord Chancellor’s farther pleasure be known respecting you.”