CHAPTER XXVII.
"This Austin humbly did." "Did he?" quoth he. "Austin may do the same again for me."
Pope's Prologue to Canterbury Tales from Chaucer.
The course of our story will be best pursued by attending that of SimonGlover. It is not our purpose to indicate the exact local boundaries ofthe two contending clans, especially since they are not clearly pointedout by the historians who have transmitted accounts of this memorablefeud. It is sufficient to say, that the territory of the Clan Chattanextended far and wide, comprehending Caithness and Sutherland, andhaving for their paramount chief the powerful earl of the latter shire,thence called Mohr ar Chat. In this general sense, the Keiths, theSinclairs, the Guns, and other families and clans of great power, wereincluded in the confederacy. These, however, were not engaged in thepresent quarrel, which was limited to that part of the Clan Chattanoccupying the extensive mountainous districts of Perthshire andInverness shire, which form a large portion of what is called thenortheastern Highlands. It is well known that two large septs,unquestionably known to belong to the Clan Chattan, the MacPhersons andthe MacIntoshes, dispute to this day which of their chieftains was atthe head of this Badenoch branch of the great confederacy, and both haveof later times assumed the title of Captain of Clan Chattan. Non nostrumest. But, at all events, Badenoch must have been the centre of theconfederacy, so far as involved in the feud of which we treat.
Of the rival league of Clan Quhele we have a still less distinctaccount, for reasons which will appear in the sequel. Some authors haveidentified them with the numerous and powerful sept of MacKay. If thisis done on good authority, which is to be doubted, the MacKays must haveshifted their settlements greatly since the reign of Robert III, sincethey are now to be found (as a clan) in the extreme northern parts ofScotland, in the counties of Ross and Sutherland. We cannot, therefore,be so clear as we would wish in the geography of the story. Sufficeit that, directing his course in a northwesterly direction, the glovertravelled for a day's journey in the direction of the Breadalbanecountry, from which he hoped to reach the castle where Gilchrist MacIan,the captain of the Clan Quhele, and the father of his pupil Conachar,usually held his residence, with a barbarous pomp of attendance andceremonial suited to his lofty pretensions.
We need not stop to describe the toil and terrors of such a journey,where the path was to be traced among wastes and mountains, nowascending precipitous ravines, now plunging into inextricable bogs,and often intersected with large brooks, and even rivers. But all theseperils Simon Glover had before encountered in quest of honest gain; andit was not to be supposed that he shunned or feared them where liberty,and life itself, were at stake.
The danger from the warlike and uncivilised inhabitants of these wildswould have appeared to another at least as formidable as the perils ofthe journey. But Simon's knowledge of the manners and language of thepeople assured him on this point also. An appeal to the hospitality ofthe wildest Gael was never unsuccessful; and the kerne, that in othercircumstances would have taken a man's life for the silver button ofhis cloak, would deprive himself of a meal to relieve the traveller whoimplored hospitality at the door of his bothy. The art of travelling inthe Highlands was to appear as confident and defenceless as possible;and accordingly the glover carried no arms whatever, journeyed withoutthe least appearance of precaution, and took good care to exhibitnothing which might excite cupidity. Another rule which he deemed itprudent to observe was to avoid communication with any of the passengerswhom he might chance to meet, except in the interchange of the commoncivilities of salutation, which the Highlanders rarely omit. Fewopportunities occurred of exchanging even such passing greetings. Thecountry, always lonely, seemed now entirely forsaken; and, even in thelittle straths or valleys which he had occasion to pass or traverse,the hamlets were deserted, and the inhabitants had betaken themselves towoods and caves. This was easily accounted for, considering the imminentdangers of a feud which all expected would become one of the mostgeneral signals for plunder and ravage that had ever distracted thatunhappy country.
Simon began to be alarmed at this state of desolation. He had made ahalt since he left Kinfauns, to allow his nag some rest; and now hebegan to be anxious how he was to pass the night. He had reckonedupon spending it at the cottage of an old acquaintance, called NielBooshalloch (or the cow herd), because he had charge of numerous herdsof cattle belonging to the captain of Clan Quhele, for which purpose hehad a settlement on the banks of the Tay, not far from the spot whereit leaves the lake of the same name. From this his old host and friend,with whom he had transacted many bargains for hides and furs, the oldglover hoped to learn the present state of the country, the prospect ofpeace or war, and the best measures to be taken for his own safety. Itwill be remembered that the news of the indentures of battle enteredinto for diminishing the extent of the feud had only been communicatedto King Robert the day before the glover left Perth, and did not becomepublic till some time afterwards.
"If Niel Booshalloch hath left his dwelling like the rest of them, Ishall be finely holped up," thought Simon, "since I want not only theadvantage of his good advice, but also his interest with GilchristMacIan; and, moreover, a night's quarters and a supper."
Thus reflecting, he reached the top of a swelling green hill, and sawthe splendid vision of Loch Tay lying beneath him--an immense plate ofpolished silver, its dark heathy mountains and leafless thickets of oakserving as an arabesque frame to a magnificent mirror.
Indifferent to natural beauty at any time, Simon Glover was nowparticularly so; and the only part of the splendid landscape on which heturned his eye was an angle or loop of meadow land where the river Tay,rushing in full swoln dignity from its parent lake, and wheeling arounda beautiful valley of about a mile in breadth, begins his broad courseto the southeastward, like a conqueror and a legislator, to subdueand to enrich remote districts. Upon the sequestered spot, which is sobeautifully situated between lake, mountain, and river, arose afterwardsthe feudal castle of the Ballough [Balloch is Gaelic for the dischargeof a lake into a river], which in our time has been succeeded by thesplendid palace of the Earls of Breadalbane.
But the Campbells, though they had already attained very great powerin Argyleshire, had not yet extended themselves so far eastward as LochTay, the banks of which were, either by right or by mere occupancy,possessed for, the present by the Clan Quhele, whose choicest herds werefattened on the Balloch margin of the lake. In this valley, therefore,between the river and the lake, amid extensive forests of oak wood,hazel, rowan tree, and larches, arose the humble cottage of NielBooshalloch, a village Eumaeus, whose hospitable chimneys were seen tosmoke plentifully, to the great encouragement of Simon Glover, who mightotherwise have been obliged to spend the night in the open air, to hisno small discomfort.
He reached the door of the cottage, whistled, shouted, and made hisapproach known. There was a baying of hounds and collies, and presentlythe master of the hut came forth. There was much care on his brow, andhe seemed surprised at the sight of Simon Glover, though the herdsmancovered both as well as he might; for nothing in that region could bereckoned more uncivil than for the landlord to suffer anything to escapehim in look or gesture which might induce the visitor to think thathis arrival was an unpleasing, or even an unexpected, incident. Thetraveller's horse was conducted to a stable, which was almost too lowto receive him, and the glover himself was led into the mansion of theBooshalloch, where, according to the custom of the country, breadand cheese was placed before the wayfarer, while more solid food waspreparing. Simon, who understood all their habits, took no notice of theobvious marks of sadness on the brow of his entertainer and on those ofthe family, until he had eaten somewhat for form's sake, after which heasked the general question, "Was there any news in the country?"
"Bad news as ever were told," said the herdsman: "our father is nomore."
"How!" said Simon, greatly alarmed, "is the captain of the Clan Quheledead?"
"The captain of the
Clan Quhele never dies," answered the Booshalloch;"but Gilchrist MacIan died twenty hours since, and his son, EachinMacIan, is now captain."
"What, Eachin--that is Conachar--my apprentice?"
"As little of that subject as you list, brother Simon," said theherdsman. "It is to be remembered, friend, that your craft, which dothvery well for a living in the douce city of Perth, is something toomechanical to be much esteemed at the foot of Ben Lawers and on thebanks of Loch Tay. We have not a Gaelic word by which we can even name amaker of gloves."
"It would be strange if you had, friend Niel," said Simon, drily,"having so few gloves to wear. I think there be none in the whole ClanQuhele, save those which I myself gave to Gilchrist MacIan, whom Godassoilzie, who esteemed them a choice propine. Most deeply do I regrethis death, for I was coming to him on express business."
"You had better turn the nag's head southward with morning light," saidthe herdsman. "The funeral is instantly to take place, and it must bewith short ceremony; for there is a battle to be fought by the ClanQuhele and the Clan Chattan, thirty champions on a side, as soon as PalmSunday next, and we have brief time either to lament the dead or honourthe living."
"Yet are my affairs so pressing, that I must needs see the young chief,were it but for a quarter of an hour," said the glover.
"Hark thee, friend," replied his host, "I think thy business must beeither to gather money or to make traffic. Now, if the chief owe theeanything for upbringing or otherwise, ask him not to pay it when all thetreasures of the tribe are called in for making gallant preparation ofarms and equipment for their combatants, that we may meet these proudhill cats in a fashion to show ourselves their superiors. But if thoucomest to practise commerce with us, thy time is still worse chosen.Thou knowest that thou art already envied of many of our tribe, forhaving had the fosterage of the young chief, which is a thing usuallygiven to the best of the clan."'
"But, St. Mary, man!" exclaimed the glover, "men should remember theoffice was not conferred on me as a favour which I courted, but thatit was accepted by me on importunity and entreaty, to my no smallprejudice. This Conachar, or Hector, of yours, or whatever you call him,has destroyed me doe skins to the amount of many pounds Scots."
"There again, now," said the Booshalloch, "you have spoken word to costyour life--any allusion to skins or hides, or especially to deer anddoes--may incur no less a forfeit. The chief is young, and jealous ofhis rank; none knows the reason better than thou, friend Glover. Hewill naturally wish that everything concerning the opposition tohis succession, and having reference to his exile, should be totallyforgotten; and he will not hold him in affection who shall recall therecollection of his people, or force back his own, upon what they mustboth remember with pain. Think how, at such a moment, they will lookon the old glover of Perth, to whom the chief was so long apprentice!Come--come, old friend, you have erred in this. You are in over greathaste to worship the rising sun, while his beams are yet level with thehorizon. Come thou when he has climbed higher in the heavens, and thoushalt have thy share of the warmth of his noonday height."
"Niel Booshalloch," said the glover, "we have been old friends, as thousay'st; and as I think thee a true one, I will speak to thee freely,though what I say might be perilous if spoken to others of thy clan.Thou think'st I come hither to make my own profit of thy young chief,and it is natural thou shouldst think so. But I would not, at my years,quit my own chimney corner in Curfew Street to bask me in the beams ofthe brightest sun that ever shone upon Highland heather. The very truthis, I come hither in extremity: my foes have the advantage of me, andhave laid things to my charge whereof I am incapable, even in thought.Nevertheless, doom is like to go forth against me, and there is noremedy but that I must up and fly, or remain and perish. I come to youryoung chief, as one who had refuge with me in his distress--who ate ofmy bread and drank of my cup. I ask of him refuge, which, as I trust, Ishall need but a short time."
"That makes a different case," replied the herdsman. "So different,that, if you came at midnight to the gate of MacIan, having the Kingof Scotland's head in your hand, and a thousand men in pursuit for theavenging of his blood, I could not think it for his honour to refuse youprotection. And for your innocence or guilt, it concerns not the case;or rather, he ought the more to shelter you if guilty, seeing yournecessity and his risk are both in that case the greater. I muststraightway to him, that no hasty tongue tell him of your arrivinghither without saying the cause."
"A pity of your trouble," said the glover; "but where lies the chief?"
"He is quartered about ten miles hence, busied with the affairs of thefuneral, and with preparations for the combat--the dead to the grave andthe living to battle."
"It is a long way, and will take you all night to go and come," said theglover; "and I am very sure that Conachar when he knows it is I who--"
"Forget Conachar," said the herdsman, placing his finger on his lips."And as for the ten miles, they are but a Highland leap, when one bearsa message between his friend and his chief."
So saying, and committing the traveller to the charge of his eldest sonand his daughter, the active herdsman left his house two hours beforemidnight, to which he returned long before sunrise. He did not disturbhis wearied guest, but when the old man had arisen in the morning heacquainted him that the funeral of the late chieftain was to take placethe same day, and that, although Eachin MacIan could not invite a Saxonto the funeral, he would be glad to receive him at the entertainmentwhich was to follow.
"His will must be obeyed," said the glover, half smiling at the changeof relation between himself and his late apprentice. "The man isthe master now, and I trust he will remember that, when matters wereotherwise between us, I did not use my authority ungraciously."
"Troutsho, friend!" exclaimed the Booshalloch, "the less of that you saythe better. You will find yourself a right welcome guest to Eachin, andthe deil a man dares stir you within his bounds. But fare you well, forI must go, as beseems me, to the burial of the best chief the clan everhad, and the wisest captain that ever cocked the sweet gale (bog myrtle)in his bonnet. Farewell to you for a while, and if you will go to thetop of the Tom an Lonach behind the house, you will see a gallant sight,and hear such a coronach as will reach the top of Ben Lawers. A boatwill wait for you, three hours hence, at a wee bit creek about half amile westward from the head of the Tay."
With these words he took his departure, followed by his three sons, toman the boat in which he was to join the rest of the mourners, and twodaughters, whose voices were wanted to join in the lament, which waschanted, or rather screamed, on such occasions of general affliction.
Simon Glover, finding himself alone, resorted to the stable to lookafter his nag, which, he found, had been well served with graddan, orbread made of scorched barley. Of this kindness he was fully sensible,knowing that, probably, the family had little of this delicacy left tothemselves until the next harvest should bring them a scanty supply. Inanimal food they were well provided, and the lake found them abundanceof fish for their lenten diet, which they did not observe very strictly;but bread was a delicacy very scanty in the Highlands. The bogs affordeda soft species of hay, none of the best to be sure; but Scottish horses,like their riders, were then accustomed to hard fare.
Gauntlet, for this was the name of the palfrey, had his stall crammedfull of dried fern for litter, and was otherwise as well provided for asHighland hospitality could contrive.
Simon Glover being thus left to his own painful reflections, nothingbetter remained, after having seen after the comforts of the dumbcompanion of his journey, than to follow the herdsman's advice; andascending towards the top of an eminence called Tom an Lonach, or theKnoll of Yew Trees, after a walk of half an hour he reached the summit,and could look down on the broad expanse of the lake, of which theheight commanded a noble view. A few aged and scattered yew treesof great size still vindicated for the beautiful green hill the nameattached to it. But a far greater number had fallen a sacrifice tothe general de
mand for bow staves in that warlike age, the bow being aweapon much used by the mountaineers, though those which they employed,as well as their arrows, were, in shape and form, and especially inefficacy, far inferior to the archery of merry England. The dark andshattered individual yews which remained were like the veterans of abroken host, occupying in disorder some post of advantage, with thestern purpose of resisting to the last. Behind this eminence, butdetached from it, arose a higher hill, partly covered with copsewood,partly opening into glades of pasture, where the cattle strayed,finding, at this season of the year, a scanty sustenance among thespring heads and marshy places, where the fresh grass began first toarise.
The opposite or northern shore of the lake presented a far more Alpineprospect than that upon which the glover was stationed. Woods andthickets ran up the sides of the mountains, and disappeared among thesinuosities formed by the winding ravines which separated them from eachother; but far above these specimens of a tolerable natural soil arosethe swart and bare mountains themselves, in the dark grey desolationproper to the season.
Some were peaked, some broad crested, some rocky and precipitous, othersof a tamer outline; and the clan of Titans seemed to be commanded bytheir appropriate chieftains--the frowning mountain of Ben Lawers, andthe still more lofty eminence of Ben Mohr, arising high above the rest,whose peaks retain a dazzling helmet of snow far into the summer season,and sometimes during the whole year. Yet the borders of this wild andsilvan region, where the mountains descended upon the lake, intimated,even at that early period, many traces of human habitation. Hamlets wereseen, especially on the northern margin of the lake, half hid among thelittle glens that poured their tributary streams into Loch Tay, which,like many earthly things, made a fair show at a distance, but, when moreclosely approached, were disgustful and repulsive, from their squalidwant of the conveniences which attend even Indian wigwams. They wereinhabited by a race who neither cultivated the earth nor cared forthe enjoyments which industry procures. The women, although otherwisetreated with affection, and even delicacy of respect, discharged all theabsolutely necessary domestic labour. The men, excepting some reluctantuse of an ill formed plough, or more frequently a spade, grudgingly gonethrough, as a task infinitely beneath them, took no other employmentthan the charge of the herds of black cattle, in which their wealthconsisted. At all other times they hunted, fished, or marauded, duringthe brief intervals of peace, by way of pastime; plundering with bolderlicense, and fighting with embittered animosity, in time of war, which,public or private, upon a broader or more restricted scale, formed theproper business of their lives, and the only one which they esteemedworthy of them.
The magnificent bosom of the lake itself was a scene to gaze on withdelight. Its noble breadth, with its termination in a full and beautifulrun, was rendered yet more picturesque by one of those islets which areoften happily situated in the Scottish lakes. The ruins upon that isle,now almost shapeless, being overgrown with wood rose, at the time wespeak of, into the towers and pinnacles of a priory, where slumberedthe remains of Sibylla, daughter of Henry I of England, and consortof Alexander the First of Scotland. This holy place had been deemed ofdignity sufficient to be the deposit of the remains of the captain ofthe Clan Quhele, at least till times when the removal of the danger, nowso imminently pressing, should permit of his body being conveyed to adistinguished convent in the north, where he was destined ultimately torepose with all his ancestry.
A number of boats pushed off from various points of the near and moredistant shore, many displaying sable banners, and others having theirseveral pipers in the bow, who from time to time poured forth a fewnotes of a shrill, plaintive, and wailing character, and intimated tothe glover that the ceremony was about to take place. These sounds oflamentation were but the tuning as it were of the instruments, comparedwith the general wail which was speedily to be raised.
A distant sound was heard from far up the lake, even as it seemed fromthe remote and distant glens out of which the Dochart and the Lochy pourtheir streams into Loch Tay. It was in a wild, inaccessible spot, wherethe Campbells at a subsequent period founded their strong fortress ofFinlayrigg, that the redoubted commander of the Clan Quhele drew hislast breath; and, to give due pomp to his funeral, his corpse was now tobe brought down the loch to the island assigned for his temporary placeof rest. The funeral fleet, led by the chieftain's barge, from which ahuge black banner was displayed, had made more than two thirds of itsvoyage ere it was visible from the eminence on which Simon Glover stoodto overlook the ceremony. The instant the distant wail of the coronachwas heard proceeding from the attendants on the funeral barge, all thesubordinate sounds of lamentation were hushed at once, as the ravenceases to croak and the hawk to whistle whenever the scream of the eagleis heard. The boats, which had floated hither and thither upon the lake,like a flock of waterfowl dispersing themselves on its surface, now drewtogether with an appearance of order, that the funeral flotilla mightpass onward, and that they themselves might fall into their properplaces. In the mean while the piercing din of the war pipes becamelouder and louder, and the cry from the numberless boats which followedthat from which the black banner of the chief was displayed rose inwild unison up to the Tom an Lonach, from which the glover viewed thespectacle. The galley which headed the procession bore on its poop aspecies of scaffold, upon which, arrayed in white linen, and with theface bare, was displayed the corpse of the deceased chieftain. His sonand the nearest relatives filled the vessel, while a great number ofboats, of every description that could be assembled, either on LochTay itself or brought by land carriage from Loch Earn and otherwise,followed in the rear, some of them of very frail materials. There wereeven curraghs, composed of ox hides stretched over hoops of willow,in the manner of the ancient British, and some committed themselvesto rafts formed for the occasion, from the readiest materials thatoccurred, and united in such a precarious manner as to render itprobable that, before the accomplishment of the voyage, some of theclansmen of the deceased might be sent to attend their chieftain in theworld of spirits.
When the principal flotilla came in sight of the smaller group of boatscollected towards the foot of the lake, and bearing off from the littleisland, they hailed each other with a shout so loud and general, andterminating in a cadence so wildly prolonged, that not only the deerstarted from their glens for miles around, and sought the distantrecesses of the mountains, but even the domestic cattle, accustomed tothe voice of man, felt the full panic which the human shout strikes intothe wilder tribes, and like them fled from their pasture into morassesand dingles.
Summoned forth from their convent by those sounds, the monks whoinhabited the little islet began to issue from their lowly portal, withcross and banner, and as much of ecclesiastical state as they had themeans of displaying; their bells at the same time, of which the edificepossessed three, pealing the death toll over the long lake, which cameto the ears of the now silent multitude, mingled with the solemn chantof the Catholic Church, raised by the monks in their procession. Variousceremonies were gone through, while the kindred of the deceased carriedthe body ashore, and, placing it on a bank long consecrated to thepurpose, made the deasil around the departed. When the corpse wasuplifted to be borne into the church, another united yell burst from theassembled multitude, in which the deep shout of warriors and the shrillwail of females joined their notes with the tremulous voice of age andthe babbling cry of childhood. The coronach was again, and for the lasttime, shrieked as the body was carried into the interior of thechurch, where only the nearest relatives of the deceased and the mostdistinguished of the leaders of the clan were permitted to enter. Thelast yell of woe was so terribly loud, and answered by so many hundredechoes, that the glover instinctively raised his hands to his ears, toshut out, or deaden at least, a sound so piercing. He kept this attitudewhile the hawks, owls, and other birds, scared by the wild scream, hadbegun to settle in their retreats, when, as he withdrew his hands, avoice close by him said:
"Think you this, Simon Gl
over, the hymn of penitence and praise withwhich it becomes poor forlorn man, cast out from his tenement of clay,to be wafted into the presence of his maker?"
The glover turned, and in the old man with a long white beard who stoodclose beside him had no difficulty, from the clear mild eye and thebenevolent cast of features, to recognise the Carthusian monk FatherClement, no longer wearing his monastic habiliments, but wrapped in afrieze mantle and having a Highland cap on his head.
It may be recollected that the glover regarded this man with a combinedfeeling of respect and dislike--respect, which his judgment could notdeny to the monk's person and character, and dislike, which arose fromFather Clement's peculiar doctrines being the cause of his daughter'sexile and his own distress. It was not, therefore, with sentiments ofunmixed satisfaction that he returned the greetings of the father, andreplied to the reiterated question, what he thought of the funeral riteswhich were discharged in so wild a manner: "I know not, my good father;but these men do their duty to their deceased chief according to thefashion of their ancestors: they mean to express their regret for theirfriend's loss and their prayers to Heaven in his behalf; and that whichis done of goodwill must, to my thinking, be accepted favourably. Hadit been otherwise, methinks they had ere now been enlightened to dobetter."
"Thou art deceived," answered the monk. "God has sent His light amongstus all, though in various proportions; but man wilfully shuts his eyesand prefers darkness. This benighted people mingle with the ritual ofthe Roman Church the old heathen ceremonies of their own fathers, andthus unite with the abominations of a church corrupted by wealth andpower the cruel and bloody ritual of savage paynims."
"Father," said Simon, abruptly, "methinks your presence were moreuseful in yonder chapel, aiding your brethren in the discharge of theirclerical duties, than in troubling and unsettling the belief of anhumble though ignorant Christian like myself."
"And wherefore say, good brother, that I would unfix thy principles ofbelief?" answered Clement. "So Heaven deal with me, as, were my lifeblood necessary to cement the mind of any man to the holy religion heprofesseth, it should be freely poured out for the purpose."
"Your speech is fair, father, I grant you," said the glover; "but if Iam to judge the doctrine by the fruits, Heaven has punished me by thehand of the church for having hearkened thereto. Ere I heard you, myconfessor was little moved though I might have owned to have tolda merry tale upon the ale bench, even if a friar or a nun were thesubject. If at a time I had called Father Hubert a better hunter ofhares than of souls, I confessed me to the Vicar Vinesauf, who laughedand made me pay a reckoning for penance; or if I had said that the VicarVinesauf was more constant to his cup than to his breviary, I confessedme to Father Hubert, and a new hawking glove made all well again; andthus I, my conscience, and Mother Church lived together on terms ofpeace, friendship, and mutual forbearance. But since I have listened toyou, Father Clement, this goodly union is broke to pieces, and nothingis thundered in my ear but purgatory in the next world and fire andfagot in this. Therefore, avoid you, Father Clement, or speak to thosewho can understand your doctrine. I have no heart to be a martyr: I havenever in my whole life had courage enough so much as to snuff a candlewith my fingers; and, to speak the truth, I am minded to go back toPerth, sue out my pardon in the spiritual court, carry my fagot to thegallows foot in token of recantation, and purchase myself once more thename of a good Catholic, were it at the price of all the worldly wealththat remains to me."
"You are angry, my dearest brother," said Clement, "and repent you onthe pinch of a little worldly danger and a little worldly loss for thegood thoughts which you once entertained."
"You speak at ease, Father Clement, since I think you have long forswornthe wealth and goods of the world, and are prepared to yield up yourlife when it is demanded in exchange for the doctrine you preach andbelieve. You are as ready to put on your pitched shirt and brimstonehead gear as a naked man is to go to his bed, and it would seem you havenot much more reluctance to the ceremony. But I still wear that whichclings to me. My wealth is still my own, and I thank Heaven it is adecent pittance whereon to live; my life, too, is that of a hale old manof sixty, who is in no haste to bring it to a close; and if I werepoor as Job and on the edge of the grave, must I not still cling to mydaughter, whom your doctrines have already cost so dear?"
"Thy daughter, friend Simon," said the Carmelite [Carthusian], "may betruly called an angel upon earth."
"Ay, and by listening to your doctrines, father, she is now like to becalled on to be an angel in heaven, and to be transported thither in achariot of fire."
"Nay, my good brother," said Clement, "desist, I pray you, to speak ofwhat you little understand. Since it is wasting time to show thee thelight that thou chafest against, yet listen to that which I have to saytouching thy daughter, whose temporal felicity, though I weigh it noteven for an instant in the scale against that which is spiritual, is,nevertheless, in its order, as dear to Clement Blair as to her ownfather."
The tears stood in the old man's eyes as he spoke, and Simon Glover wasin some degree mollified as he again addressed him.
"One would think thee, Father Clement, the kindest and most amiable ofmen; how comes it, then, that thy steps are haunted by general illwill wherever thou chancest to turn them? I could lay my life thou hastcontrived already to offend yonder half score of poor friars in theirwater girdled cage, and that you have been prohibited from attendance onthe funeral?"
"Even so, my son," said the Carthusian, "and I doubt whether theirmalice will suffer me to remain in this country. I did but speak a fewsentences about the superstition and folly of frequenting St. Fillan'schurch, to detect theft by means of his bell, of bathing mad patients inhis pool, to cure their infirmity of mind; and lo! the persecutors havecast me forth of their communion, as they will speedily cast me out ofthis life."
"Lo you there now," said the glover, "see what it is for a man thatcannot take a warning! Well, Father Clement, men will not cast me forthunless it were as a companion of yours. I pray you, therefore, tell mewhat you have to say of my daughter, and let us be less neighbours thanwe have been."
"This, then, brother Simon, I have to acquaint you with. This youngchief, who is swoln with contemplation of his own power and glory, lovesone thing better than it all, and that is thy daughter."
"He, Conachar!" exclaimed Simon. "My runagate apprentice look up to mydaughter!"
"Alas!" said Clement, "how close sits our worldly pride, even as ivyclings to the wall, and cannot be separated! Look up to thy daughter,good Simon? Alas, no! The captain of Clan Quhele, great as he is, andgreater as he soon expects to be, looks down to the daughter of thePerth burgess, and considers himself demeaned in doing so. But, to usehis own profane expression, Catharine is dearer to him than life hereand Heaven hereafter: he cannot live without her."
"Then he may die, if he lists," said Simon Glover, "for she is betrothedto an honest burgess of Perth; and I would not break my word to make mydaughter bride to the Prince of Scotland."
"I thought it would be your answer," replied the monk; "I would, worthyfriend, thou couldst carry into thy spiritual concerns some part of thatdaring and resolved spirit with which thou canst direct thy temporalaffairs."
"Hush thee--hush, Father Clement!" answered the glover; "when thoufallest into that vein of argument, thy words savour of blazing tar, andthat is a scent I like not. As to Catharine, I must manage as I can, soas not to displease the young dignitary; but well is it for me that sheis far beyond his reach."
"She must then be distant indeed," said the Carmelite [Carthusian]."And now, brother Simon, since you think it perilous to own me and myopinions, I must walk alone with my own doctrines and the dangers theydraw on me. But should your eye, less blinded than it now is by worldlyhopes and fears, ever turn a glance back on him who soon may be snatchedfrom you, remember, that by nought save a deep sense of the truth andimportance of the doctrine which he taught could Clement Blair havelearned to encounter,
nay, to provoke, the animosity of the powerful andinveterate, to alarm the fears of the jealous and timid, to walk in theworld as he belonged not to it, and to be accounted mad of men, that hemight, if possible, win souls to God. Heaven be my witness, that I wouldcomply in all lawful things to conciliate the love and sympathy of myfellow creatures! It is no light thing to be shunned by the worthy asan infected patient, to be persecuted by the Pharisees of the day as anunbelieving heretic, to be regarded with horror at once and contempt bythe multitude, who consider me as a madman, who may be expected to turnmischievous. But were all those evils multiplied an hundredfold, thefire within must not be stifled, the voice which says within me 'Speak'must receive obedience. Woe unto me if I preach not the Gospel, evenshould I at length preach it from amidst the pile of flames!"
So spoke this bold witness, one of those whom Heaven raised up from timeto time to preserve amidst the most ignorant ages, and to carry down tothose which succeed them, a manifestation of unadulterated Christianity,from the time of the Apostles to the age when, favoured by the inventionof printing, the Reformation broke out in full splendour. The selfishpolicy of the glover was exposed in his own eyes; and he felt himselfcontemptible as he saw the Carthusian turn from him in all thehallowedness of resignation. He was even conscious of a momentaryinclination to follow the example of the preacher's philanthropy anddisinterested zeal, but it glanced like a flash of lightning through adark vault, where there lies nothing to catch the blaze; and he slowlydescended the hill in a direction different from that of the Carthusian,forgetting him and his doctrines, and buried in anxious thoughts abouthis child's fate and his own.