Old Mortality, Complete

by Walter Scott

It was in 1685, when Argyle was threatening a descent upon Scotland, and Monmouth was preparing to invade the west of England, that the Privy Council of Scotland, with cruel precaution, made a general arrest of more than a hundred persons in the southern and western provinces, supposed, from their religious principles, to be inimical to Government, together with many women and children. These captives were driven northward like a flock of bullocks, but with less precaution to provide for their wants, and finally penned up in a subterranean dungeon in the Castle of Dunnottar, having a window opening to the front of a precipice which overhangs the German Ocean. They had suffered not a little on the journey, and were much hurt both at the scoffs of the northern prelatists, and the mocks, gibes, and contemptuous tunes played by the fiddlers and pipers who had come from every quarter as they passed, to triumph over the revilers of their calling. The repose which the melancholy dungeon afforded them, was anything but undisturbed. The guards made them pay for every indulgence, even that of water; and when some of the prisoners resisted a demand so unreasonable, and insisted on their right to have this necessary of life untaxed, their keepers emptied the water on the prison floor, saying, “If they were obliged to bring water for the canting whigs, they were not bound to afford them the use of bowls or pitchers gratis.”

In this prison, which is still termed the Whig’s Vault, several died of the diseases incidental to such a situation; and others broke their limbs, and incurred fatal injury, in desperate attempts to escape from their stern prison-house. Over the graves of these unhappy persons, their friends, after the Revolution, erected a monument with a suitable inscription.

This peculiar shrine of the Whig martyrs is very much honoured by their descendants, though residing at a great distance from the land of their captivity and death. My friend, the Rev. Mr. Walker, told me, that being once upon a tour in the south of Scotland, probably about forty years since, he had the bad luck to involve himself in the labyrinth of passages and tracks which cross, in every direction, the extensive waste called Lochar Moss, near Dumfries, out of which it is scarcely possible for a stranger to extricate himself; and there was no small difficulty in procuring a guide, since such people as he saw were engaged in digging their peats—a work of paramount necessity, which will hardly brook interruption. Mr. Walker could, therefore, only procure unintelligible directions in the southern brogue, which differs widely from that of the Mearns. He was beginning to think himself in a serious dilemma, when he stated his case to a farmer of rather the better class, who was employed, as the others, in digging his winter fuel. The old man at first made the same excuse with those who had already declined acting as the traveller’s guide; but perceiving him in great perplexity, and paying the respect due to his profession, “You are a clergyman, sir?” he said. Mr. Walker assented. “And I observe from your speech, that you are from the north?”—“You are right, my good friend,” was the reply. “And may I ask if you have ever heard of a place called Dunnottar?”—“I ought to know something about it, my friend,” said Mr. Walker, “since I have been several years the minister of the parish.”—“I am glad to hear it,” said the Dumfriesian, “for one of my near relations lies buried there, and there is, I believe, a monument over his grave. I would give half of what I am aught, to know if it is still in existence.”—“He was one of those who perished in the Whig’s Vault at the castle?” said the minister; “for there are few southlanders besides lying in our churchyard, and none, I think, having monuments.”—“Even sae—even sae,” said the old Cameronian, for such was the farmer. He then laid down his spade, cast on his coat, and heartily offered to see the minister out of the moss, if he should lose the rest of the day’s dargue. Mr. Walker was able to requite him amply, in his opinion, by reciting the epitaph, which he remembered by heart. The old man was enchanted with finding the memory of his grandfather or great-grandfather faithfully recorded amongst the names of brother sufferers; and rejecting all other offers of recompense, only requested, after he had guided Mr. Walker to a safe and dry road, that he would let him have a written copy of the inscription.

It was whilst I was listening to this story, and looking at the monument referred to, that I saw Old Mortality engaged in his daily task of cleaning and repairing the ornaments and epitaphs upon the tomb. His appearance and equipment were exactly as described in the Novel. I was very desirous to see something of a person so singular, and expected to have done so, as he took up his quarters with the hospitable and liberal-spirited minister. But though Mr. Walker invited him up after dinner to partake of a glass of spirits and water, to which he was supposed not to be very averse, yet he would not speak frankly upon the subject of his occupation. He was in bad humour, and had, according to his phrase, no freedom for conversation with us.

His spirit had been sorely vexed by hearing, in a certain Aberdonian kirk, the psalmody directed by a pitch-pipe, or some similar instrument, which was to Old Mortality the abomination of abominations. Perhaps, after all, he did not feel himself at ease with his company; he might suspect the questions asked by a north-country minister and a young barrister to savour more of idle curiosity than profit. At any rate, in the phrase of John Bunyan, Old Mortality went on his way, and I saw him no more.

The remarkable figure and occupation of this ancient pilgrim was recalled to my memory by an account transmitted by my friend Mr. Joseph Train, supervisor of excise at Dumfries, to whom I owe many obligations of a similar nature. From this, besides some other circumstances, among which are those of the old man’s death, I learned the particulars described in the text. I am also informed, that the old palmer’s family, in the third generation, survives, and is highly respected both for talents and worth. While these sheets were passing through the press, I received the following communication from Mr. Train, whose undeviating kindness had, during the intervals of laborious duty, collected its materials from an indubitable source.

“In the course of my periodical visits to the Glenkens, I have
become intimately acquainted with Robert Paterson, a son of Old
Mortality, who lives in the little village of Balmaclellan; and
although he is now in the 70th year of his age, preserves all the
vivacity of youth—has a most retentive memory, and a mind stored
with information far above what could be expected from a person in
his station of life. To him I am indebted for the following
particulars relative to his father, and his descendants down to the
present time.
“Robert Paterson, alias Old Mortality, was the son of Walter
Paterson and Margaret Scott, who occupied the farm of Ilaggisha, in
the parish of Hawick, during nearly the first half of the eighteenth
century. Here Robert was born, in the memorable year 1715.
“Being the youngest son of a numerous family, he, at an early age,
went to serve with an elder brother, named Francis, who rented, from
Sir John Jardine of Applegarth, a small tract in Comcockle Moor,
near Lochmaben. During his residence there, he became acquainted
with Elizabeth Gray, daughter of Robert Gray, gardener to Sir John
Jardine, whom he afterwards married. His wife had been, for a
considerable time, a cook-maid to Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick of
Closeburn, who procured for her husband, from the Duke of
Queensberry, an advantageous lease of the freestone quarry of
Gatelowbrigg, in the parish of Morton. Here he built a house, and
had as much land as kept a horse and cow. My informant cannot say,
with certainty, the year in which his father took up his residence
at Gatelowbrigg, but he is sure it must have been only a short time
prior to the year 1746, as, during the memorable frost in 1740, he
says his mother still resided in the service of Sir Thomas
Kirkpatrick. When the Highlanders were returning from England on
their route to Glasgow, in the year 1745-6, they plundered Mr.
Paterson’s house at Gatelowbrigg, and carried him a prisoner as far
as Glenbuck, merely because he said to one of the straggling army,
that their retreat might have been easily foreseen, as the strong
arm of the Lord was evidently raised, not only against the bloody
and wicked house of Stewart, but against all who attempted to
support the abominable heresies of the Church of Rome. From this
circumstance it appears that Old Mortality had, even at that early
period of his life, imbibed the religious enthusiasm by which he
afterwards became so much distinguished.
“The religious sect called Hill-men, or Cameronians, was at that
time much noted for austerity and devotion, in imitation of Cameron,
their founder, of whose tenets Old Mortality became a most strenuous
supporter. He made frequent journeys into Galloway to attend their
conventicles, and occasionally carried with him gravestones from his
quarry at Gatelowbrigg, to keep in remembrance the righteous whose
dust had been gathered to their fathers. Old Mortality was not one
of those religious devotees, who, although one eye is seemingly
turned towards heaven, keep the other steadfastly fixed on some
sublunary object. As his enthusiasm increased, his journeys into
Galloway became more frequent; and he gradually neglected even the
common prudential duty of providing for his offspring. From about
the year 1758, he neglected wholly to return from Galloway to his
wife and five children at Gatelowbrigg, which induced her to send
her eldest son Walter, then only twelve years of age, to Galloway,
in search of his father. After traversing nearly the whole of that
extensive district, from the Nick of Benncorie to the Fell of
Barullion, he found him at last working on the Cameronian monuments,
in the old kirkyard of Kirkchrist, on the west side of the Dee,
opposite the town of Kirkcudbright. The little wanderer used all the
influence in his power to induce his father to return to his family;
but in vain. Mrs. Paterson sent even some of her female children
into Galloway in search of their father, for the same purpose of
persuading him to return home; but without any success. At last, in
the summer of 1768, she removed to the little upland village of
Balmaclellan, in the Glenkens of Galloway, where, upon the small
pittance derived from keeping a little school, she supported her
numerous family in a respectable manner.
“There is a small monumental stone in the farm of the Caldon, near
the House of the Hill, in Wigtonshire, which is highly venerated as
being the first erected, by Old Mortality, to the memory of several
persons who fell at that place in defence of their religious tenets
in the civil war, in the reign of Charles Second.
“From the Caldon, the labours of Old Mortality, in the course of
time, spread over nearly all the Lowlands of Scotland. There are few
churchyards in Ayrshire, Galloway, or Dumfries-shire, where the work
of his chisel is not yet to be seen. It is easily distinguished from
the work of any other artist by the primitive rudeness of the
emblems of death, and of the inscriptions which adorn the ill-formed
blocks of his erection. This task of repairing and erecting
gravestones, practised without fee or reward, was the only
ostensible employment of this singular person for upwards of forty
years. The door of every Cameronian’s house was indeed open to him
at all times when he chose to enter, and he was gladly received as
an inmate of the family; but he did not invariably accept of these
civilities, as may be seen by the following account of his frugal
expenses, found, amongst other little papers, (some of which I have
likewise in my possession,) in his pocket-book after his death.

Gatehouse of Fleet, 4th February, 1796.
ROBERT PATERBON debtor to MARGARET CHRYSTALE.
To drye Lodginge for seven weeks,....... 0 4 1
To Four Auchlet of Ait Meal,............ 0 3 4
To 6 Lippies of Potatoes................ 0 1 3
To Lent Money at the time of Mr. Reid’s
Sacrament,......................... 0 6 0
To 3 Chappins of Yell with Sandy the
Keelman,*.......................... 0 0 9
L.0 15 5
Received in part,....................... 0 10 0
Unpaid,............................... L.0 5 5

*[“A well-known humourist, still alive, popularly called by the name
of Old Keelybags, who deals in the keel or chalk with which farmers
mark their flocks.”]

“This statement shows the religious wanderer to have been very poor in his old age; but he was so more by choice than through necessity, as at the period here alluded to, his children were all comfortably situated, and were most anxious to keep their father at home, but no entreaty could induce him to alter his erratic way of life. He travelled from one churchyard to another, mounted on his old white pony, till the last day of his existence, and died, as you have described, at Bankhill, near Lockerby, on the 14th February, 1801, in the 86th year of his age. As soon as his body was found, intimation was sent to his sons at Balmaclellan; but from the great depth of the snow at that time, the letter communicating the particulars of his death was so long detained by the way, that the remains of the pilgrim were interred before any of his relations could arrive at Bankhill.