CHAPTER IX.
I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come; This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. Burns.
"Don't be too much cast down," said Sergeant Bothwell to his prisoner asthey journeyed on towards the head-quarters; "you are a smart pretty lad,and well connected; the worst that will happen will be strapping up forit, and that is many an honest fellow's lot. I tell you fairly yourlife's within the compass of the law, unless you make submission, and getoff by a round fine upon your uncle's estate; he can well afford it."
"That vexes me more than the rest," said Henry. "He parts with his moneywith regret; and, as he had no concern whatever with my having given thisperson shelter for a night, I wish to Heaven, if I escape a capitalpunishment, that the penalty may be of a kind I could bear in my ownperson."
"Why, perhaps," said Bothwell, "they will propose to you to go into oneof the Scotch regiments that are serving abroad. It's no bad line ofservice; if your friends are active, and there are any knocks going, youmay soon get a commission."
"I am by no means sure," answered Morton, "that such a sentence is notthe best thing that can happen to me."
"Why, then, you are no real whig after all?" said the sergeant.
"I have hitherto meddled with no party in the state," said Henry, "buthave remained quietly at home; and sometimes I have had serious thoughtsof joining one of our foreign regiments."
"Have you?" replied Bothwell; "why, I honour you for it; I have served inthe Scotch French guards myself many a long day; it's the place forlearning discipline, d--n me. They never mind what you do when you areoff duty; but miss you the roll-call, and see how they'll arrangeyou--D--n me, if old Captain Montgomery didn't make me mount guard uponthe arsenal in my steel-back and breast, plate-sleeves and head-piece,for six hours at once, under so burning a sun, that gad I was baked likea turtle at Port Royale. I swore never to miss answering to FrancisStewart again, though I should leave my hand of cards upon thedrum-head--Ah! discipline is a capital thing."
"In other respects you liked the service?" said Morton,
"Par excellence," said Bothwell; "women, wine, and wassail, all to be hadfor little but the asking; and if you find it in your conscience to let afat priest think he has some chance to convert you, gad he'll help you tothese comforts himself, just to gain a little ground in your goodaffection. Where will you find a crop-eared whig parson will be socivil?"
"Why, nowhere, I agree with you," said Henry; "but what was your chiefduty?"
"To guard the king's person," said Bothwell, "to look after the safety ofLouis le Grand, my boy, and now and then to take a turn among theHuguenots (protestants, that is.) And there we had fine scope; it broughtmy hand pretty well in for the service in this country. But, come, as youare to be a bon camerado, as the Spaniards say, I must put you in cashwith some of your old uncle's broad-pieces. This is cutter's law; we mustnot see a pretty fellow want, if we have cash ourselves."
Thus speaking, he pulled out his purse, took out some of the contents,and offered them to Henry without counting them. Young Morton declinedthe favour; and, not judging it prudent to acquaint the sergeant,notwithstanding his apparent generosity, that he was actually inpossession of some money, he assured him he should have no difficulty ingetting a supply from his uncle.
"Well," said Bothwell, "in that case these yellow rascals must serve toballast my purse a little longer. I always make it a rule never to quitthe tavern (unless ordered on duty) while my purse is so weighty that Ican chuck it over the signpost. [Note: A Highland laird, whosepeculiarities live still in the recollection of his countrymen, used toregulate his residence at Edinburgh in the following manner: Every day hevisited the Water-gate, as it is called, of the Canongate, over which isextended a wooden arch. Specie being then the general currency, he threwhis purse over the gate, and as long as it was heavy enough to be thrownover, he continued his round of pleasure in the metropolis; when it wastoo light, he thought it time to retire to the Highlands. Query--Howoften would he have repeated this experiment at Temple Bar?] When it isso light that the wind blows it back, then, boot and saddle,--we mustfall on some way of replenishing.--But what tower is that before us,rising so high upon the steep bank, out of the woods that surround it onevery side?"
"It is the tower of Tillietudlem," said one of the soldiers. "Old LadyMargaret Bellenden lives there. She's one of the best affected women inthe country, and one that's a soldier's friend. When I was hurt by one ofthe d--d whig dogs that shot at me from behind a fauld-dike, I lay amonth there, and would stand such another wound to be in as good quartersagain."
"If that be the case," said Bothwell, "I will pay my respects to her aswe pass, and request some refreshment for men and horses; I am as thirstyalready as if I had drunk nothing at Milnwood. But it is a good thing inthese times," he continued, addressing himself to Henry, "that the King'ssoldier cannot pass a house without getting a refreshment. In such housesas Tillie--what d'ye call it? you are served for love; in the houses ofthe avowed fanatics you help yourself by force; and among the moderatepresbyterians and other suspicious persons, you are well treated fromfear; so your thirst is always quenched on some terms or other."
"And you purpose," said Henry, anxiously, "to go upon that errand up tothe tower younder?"
"To be sure I do," answered Bothwell. "How should I be able to reportfavourably to my officers of the worthy lady's sound principles, unless Iknow the taste of her sack, for sack she will produce--that I take forgranted; it is the favourite consoler of your old dowager of quality, assmall claret is the potation of your country laird."
"Then, for heaven's sake," said Henry, "if you are determined to gothere, do not mention my name, or expose me to a family that I amacquainted with. Let me be muffled up for the time in one of yoursoldier's cloaks, and only mention me generally as a prisoner under yourcharge."
"With all my heart," said Bothwell; "I promised to use you civilly, and Iscorn to break my word.--Here, Andrews, wrap a cloak round the prisoner,and do not mention his name, nor where we caught him, unless you wouldhave a trot on a horse of wood."
[Note: Wooden Mare. The punishment of riding the wooden mare was, in the days of Charles and long after, one of the various and cruel modes of enforcing military discipline. In front of the old guard-house in the High Street of Edinburgh, a large horse of this kind was placed, on which now and then, in the more ancient times, a veteran might be seen mounted, with a firelock tied to each foot, atoning for some small offence.
There is a singular work, entitled Memoirs of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, (son of Queen Anne,) from his birth to his ninth year, in which Jenkin Lewis, an honest Welshman in attendance on the royal infant's person, is pleased to record that his Royal Highness laughed, cried, crow'd, and said Gig and Dy, very like a babe of plebeian descent. He had also a premature taste for the discipline as well as the show of war, and had a corps of twenty-two boys, arrayed with paper caps and wooden swords. For the maintenance of discipline in this juvenile corps, a wooden horse was established in the Presence-chamber, and was sometimes employed in the punishment of offences not strictly military. Hughes, the Duke's tailor, having made him a suit of clothes which were too tight, was appointed, in an order of the day issued by the young prince, to be placed on this penal steed. The man of remnants, by dint of supplication and mediation, escaped from the penance, which was likely to equal the inconveniences of his brother artist's equestrian trip to Brentford. But an attendant named Weatherly, who had presumed to bring the young Prince a toy, (after he had discarded the use of them,) was actually mounted on the wooden horse without a saddle, with his face to the tail, while he was plied by four servants of the household with syringes and sq
uirts, till he had a thorough wetting. "He was a waggish fellow," says Lewis, "and would not lose any thing for the joke's sake when he was putting his tricks upon others, so he was obliged to submit cheerfully to what was inflicted upon him, being at our mercy to play him off well, which we did accordingly." Amid much such nonsense, Lewis's book shows that this poor child, the heir of the British monarchy, who died when he was eleven years old, was, in truth, of promising parts, and of a good disposition. The volume, which rarely occurs, is an octavo, published in 1789, the editor being Dr Philip Hayes of Oxford.]
They were at this moment at an arched gateway, battlemented and flankedwith turrets, one whereof was totally ruinous, excepting the lower story,which served as a cow-house to the peasant, whose family inhabited theturret that remained entire. The gate had been broken down by Monk'ssoldiers during the civil war, and had never been replaced, thereforepresented no obstacle to Bothwell and his party. The avenue, very steepand narrow, and causewayed with large round stones, ascended the side ofthe precipitous bank in an oblique and zigzag course, now showing nowhiding a view of the tower and its exterior bulwarks, which seemed torise almost perpendicularly above their heads. The fragments of Gothicdefences which it exhibited were upon such a scale of strength, asinduced Bothwell to exclaim, "It's well this place is in honest and loyalhands. Egad, if the enemy had it, a dozen of old whigamore wives withtheir distaffs might keep it against a troop of dragoons, at least ifthey had half the spunk of the old girl we left at Milnwood. Upon mylife," he continued, as they came in front of the large double tower andits surrounding defences and flankers, "it is a superb place, founded,says the worn inscription over the gate--unless the remnant of my Latinhas given me the slip--by Sir Ralph de Bellenden in 1350--a respectableantiquity. I must greet the old lady with due honour, though it shouldput me to the labour of recalling some of the compliments that I used todabble in when I was wont to keep that sort of company."
As he thus communed with himself, the butler, who had reconnoitred thesoldiers from an arrowslit in the wall, announced to his lady, that acommanded party of dragoons, or, as he thought, Life-Guardsmen, waited atthe gate with a prisoner under their charge.
"I am certain," said Gudyill, "and positive, that the sixth man is aprisoner; for his horse is led, and the two dragoons that are before havetheir carabines out of their budgets, and rested upon their thighs. Itwas aye the way we guarded prisoners in the days of the great Marquis."
"King's soldiers?" said the lady; "probably in want of refreshment. Go,Gudyill, make them welcome, and let them be accommodated with whatprovision and forage the Tower can afford.--And stay, tell my gentlewomanto bring my black scarf and manteau. I will go down myself to receivethem; one cannot show the King's Life-Guards too much respect in timeswhen they are doing so much for royal authority. And d'ye hear, Gudyill,let Jenny Dennison slip on her pearlings to walk before my niece and me,and the three women to walk behind; and bid my niece attend meinstantly."
Fully accoutred, and attended according to her directions, Lady Margaretnow sailed out into the court-yard of her tower with great courtesy anddignity. Sergeant Bothwell saluated the grave and reverend lady of themanor with an assurance which had something of the light and carelessaddress of the dissipated men of fashion in Charles the Second's time,and did not at all savour of the awkward or rude manners of anon-commissioned officer of dragoons. His language, as well as hismanners, seemed also to be refined for the time and occasion; though thetruth was, that, in the fluctuations of an adventurous and profligatelife, Bothwell had sometimes kept company much better suited to hisancestry than to his present situation of life. To the lady's request toknow whether she could be of service to them, he answered, with asuitable bow, "That as they had to march some miles farther that night,they would be much accommodated by permission to rest their horses for anhour before continuing their journey."
"With the greatest pleasure," answered Lady Margaret; "and I trust thatmy people will see that neither horse nor men want suitable refreshment."
"We are well aware, madam," continued Bothwell, "that such has alwaysbeen the reception, within the walls of Tillietudlem, of those who servedthe King."
"We have studied to discharge our duty faithfully and loyally on alloccasions, sir," answered Lady Margaret, pleased with the compliment,"both to our monarchs and to their followers, particularly to theirfaithful soldiers. It is not long ago, and it probably has not escapedthe recollection of his sacret majesty, now on the throne, since hehimself honoured my poor house with his presence and breakfasted in aroom in this castle, Mr Sergeant, which my waiting-gentlewoman shall showyou; we still call it the King's room."
Bothwell had by this time dismounted his party, and committed the horsesto the charge of one file, and the prisoner to that of another; so thathe himself was at liberty to continue the conversation which the lady hadso condescendingly opened.
"Since the King, my master, had the honour to experience yourhospitality, I cannot wonder that it is extended to those that serve him,and whose principal merit is doing it with fidelity. And yet I have anearer relation to his majesty than this coarse red coat would seem toindicate."
"Indeed, sir? Probably," said Lady Margaret, "you have belonged to hishousehold?"
"Not exactly, madam, to his household, but rather to his house; aconnexion through which I may claim kindred with most of the bestfamilies in Scotland, not, I believe, exclusive of that of Tillietudlem."
"Sir?" said the old lady, drawing herself up with dignity at hearing whatshe conceived an impertinent jest, "I do not understand you."
"It's but a foolish subject for one in my situation to talk of, madam,"answered the trooper; "but you must have heard of the history andmisfortunes of my grandfather Francis Stewart, to whom James I., hiscousin-german, gave the title of Bothwell, as my comrades give me thenickname. It was not in the long run more advantageous to him than it isto me."
"Indeed?" said Lady Margaret, with much sympathy and surprise; "I haveindeed always understood that the grandson of the last Earl was innecessitous circumstances, but I should never have expected to see him solow in the service. With such connexions, what ill fortune could havereduced you"--
"Nothing much out of the ordinary course, I believe, madam," saidBothwell, interrupting and anticipating the question. "I have had mymoments of good luck like my neighbours--have drunk my bottle withRochester, thrown a merry main with Buckingham, and fought at Tangiersside by side with Sheffield. But my luck never lasted; I could not makeuseful friends out of my jolly companions--Perhaps I was not sufficientlyaware," he continued, with some bitterness, "how much the descendant ofthe Scottish Stewarts was honoured by being admitted into theconvivialities of Wilmot and Villiers."
"But your Scottish friends, Mr Stewart, your relations here, so numerousand so powerful?"
"Why, ay, my lady," replied the sergeant, "I believe some of them mighthave made me their gamekeeper, for I am a tolerable shot--some of themwould have entertained me as their bravo, for I can use my swordwell--and here and there was one, who, when better company was not tobe had, would have made me his companion, since I can drink my threebottles of wine.--But I don't know how it is--between service andservice among my kinsmen, I prefer that of my cousin Charles as the mostcreditable of them all, although the pay is but poor, and the livery farfrom splendid."
"It is a shame, it is a burning scandal!" said Lady Margaret. "Why do younot apply to his most sacred majesty? he cannot but be surprised to hearthat a scion of his august family"--
"I beg your pardon, madam," interrupted the sergeant, "I am but a bluntsoldier, and I trust you will excuse me when I say, his most sacredmajesty is more busy in grafting scions of his own, than with nourishingthose which were planted by his grandfather's grandfather."
"Well, Mr Stewart," said Lady Margaret, "one thing you must promiseme--remain at Tillietudlem to-night; to-morrow I expect yourcommanding-officer, the gallant Claverhouse, to whom king and
countryare so much obliged for his exertions against those who would turn theworld upside down. I will speak to him on the subject of your speedypromotion; and I am certain he feels too much, both what is due to theblood which is in your veins, and to the request of a lady so highlydistinguished as myself by his most sacred majesty, not to make betterprovision for you than you have yet received."
"I am much obliged to your ladyship, and I certainly will remain her withmy prisoner, since you request it, especially as it will be the earliestway of presenting him to Colonel Grahame, and obtaining his ultimateorders about the young spark."
"Who is your prisoner, pray you?" said Lady Margaret.
"A young fellow of rather the better class in this neighbourhood, who hasbeen so incautious as to give countenance to one of the murderers of theprimate, and to facilitate the dog's escape."
"O, fie upon him!" said Lady Margaret; "I am but too apt to forgive theinjuries I have received at the hands of these rogues, though some ofthem, Mr Stewart, are of a kind not like to be forgotten; but those whowould abet the perpetrators of so cruel and deliberate a homicide on asingle man, an old man, and a man of the Archbishop's sacredprofession--O fie upon him! If you wish to make him secure, with littletrouble to your people, I will cause Harrison, or Gudyill, look for thekey of our pit, or principal dungeon. It has not been open since theweek after the victory of Kilsythe, when my poor Sir Arthur Bellendenput twenty whigs into it; but it is not more than two stories beneathground, so it cannot be unwholesome, especially as I rather believethere is somewhere an opening to the outer air."
"I beg your pardon, madam," answered the sergeant; "I daresay the dungeonis a most admirable one; but I have promised to be civil to the lad, andI will take care he is watched, so as to render escape impossible. I'llset those to look after him shall keep him as fast as if his legs were inthe boots, or his fingers in the thumbikins."
"Well, Mr Stewart," rejoined the lady, "you best know your own duty. Iheartily wish you good evening, and commit you to the care of my steward,Harrison. I would ask you to keep ourselves company, but a--a--a--"
"O, madam, it requires no apology; I am sensible the coarse red coat ofKing Charles II. does and ought to annihilate the privileges of the redblood of King James V."
"Not with me, I do assure you, Mr Stewart; you do me injustice if youthink so. I will speak to your officer to-morrow; and I trust you shallsoon find yourself in a rank where there shall be no anomalies to bereconciled."
"I believe, madam," said Bothwell, "your goodness will find itselfdeceived; but I am obliged to you for your intention, and, at all events,I will have a merry night with Mr Harrison."
Lady Margaret took a ceremonious leave, with all the respect which sheowed to royal blood, even when flowing in the veins of a sergeant of theLife-Guards; again assuring Mr Stewart, that whatever was in the Tower ofTillietudlem was heartily at his service and that of his attendants.
Sergeant Bothwell did not fail to take the lady at her word, and readilyforgot the height from which his family had descended, in a joyouscarousal, during which Mr Harrison exerted himself to produce the bestwine in the cellar, and to excite his guest to be merry by that seducingexample, which, in matters of conviviality, goes farther than precept.Old Gudyill associated himself with a party so much to his taste, prettymuch as Davy, in the Second Part of Henry the Fourth, mingles in therevels of his master, Justice Shallow. He ran down to the cellar at therisk of breaking his neck, to ransack some private catacomb, known, as heboasted, only to himself, and which never either had, or should, duringhis superintendence, renden forth a bottle of its contents to any one buta real king's friend.
"When the Duke dined here," said the butler, seating himself at adistance from the table, being somewhat overawed by Bothwell's genealogy,but yet hitching his seat half a yard nearer at every clause of hisspeech, "my leddy was importunate to have a bottle of thatBurgundy,"--(here he advanced his seat a little,)--"but I dinna ken howit was, Mr Stewart, I misdoubted him. I jaloused him, sir, no to be thefriend to government he pretends: the family are not to lippen to. Thatauld Duke James lost his heart before he lost his head; and theWorcester man was but wersh parritch, neither gude to fry, boil, nor supcauld." (With this witty observation, he completed his first parallel,and commenced a zigzag after the manner of an experienced engineer, inorder to continue his approaches to the table.) "Sae, sir, the faster myleddy cried 'Burgundy to his Grace--the auld Burgundy--the choiceBurgundy--the Burgundy that came ower in the thirty-nine'--the mair didI say to mysell, Deil a drap gangs down his hause unless I was mairsensible o' his principles; sack and claret may serve him. Na, na,gentlemen, as lang as I hae the trust o'butler in this houseo'Tillietudlem, I'll tak it upon me to see that nae disloyal or doubtfu'person is the better o' our binns. But when I can find a true friend tothe king and his cause, and a moderate episcopacy; when I find a man, asI say, that will stand by church and crown as I did mysell in mymaster's life, and all through Montrose's time, I think there's naethingin the cellar ower gude to be spared on him."
By this time he had completed a lodgment in the body of the place, or, inother words, advanced his seat close to the table.
"And now, Mr Francis Stewart of Bothwell, I have the honour to drink yourgude health, and a commission t'ye, and much luck may ye have in rakingthis country clear o'whigs and roundheads, fanatics and Covenanters."
Bothwell, who, it may well be believed, had long ceased to be veryscrupulous in point of society, which he regulated more by hisconvenience and station in life than his ancestry, readily answered thebutler's pledge, acknowledging, at the same time, the excellence of thewine; and Mr Gudyill, thus adopted a regular member of the company,continued to furnish them with the means of mirth until an early hour inthe next morning.