Bao Gan - "Sou Shen Ji, volume 11 14 (300 A.D.)"

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Aristotle - "Politics"

The Scottish Chiefs

M >> Miss Jane Porter >> The Scottish Chiefs




"A bloody peace, Joanna," answered the earl; "witness these wounds. A
usurper's peace is more destructive than his open hostilities; plunder
and assassination are its concomitants. I have now seen and felt
enough of Edward's jurisdiction. It is time I should awake, and, like
Wallace, determine to die for Scotland, or avenge her."

Lady Mar wept. "Cruel Donald! is this the reward of all my love and
duty? You tear yourself from me, you consign your estates to
sequestration, you rob your children of their name; nay, by your
infectious example, you stimulate our brother Bothwell's son to head
the band that is to join this madman, Wallace!"

"Hold, Joanna!" cried the earl; "what is it I hear? You call the hero
who, in saving your husband's life, reduced himself to these cruel
extremities, a madman! Was he made because he prevented the Countess
of Mar from being a widow? Was he made because he prevented her
children from being fatherless?"

The countess, overcome by this cutting reproach, threw herself upon her
husband's neck. "Alas! my lord," cried she, "all is madness to me that
would plunge you into danger. Think of your own safety; of my innocent
twins now in their cradle, should you fall. Think of our brother's
feeling when you send his only son to join one he, perhaps, would call
a rebel!"

"If Earl Bothwell considered himself a vassal of Edward's he would not
now be with Lord Loch-awe. From the moment that gallant Highlander
retired to Argyleshire, the King of England regarded his adherents with
suspicion. Bothwell's present visit to Loch-awe, you see, is
sufficient to sanction the plunder of this castle by the peaceful
government you approve. You saw the opening of those proceedings! And
had they come to their dreadful issue, where, my dear Joanna, would now
be your home, your husband, your children? It was the arm of the brave
chief of Ellerslie which saved them from destruction.

Lady Mar shuddered. "I admit the truth of what you say. But oh! is it
not hard to put my all to the hazard; to see the bloody field on one
side of my beloved Donald, and the mortal scaffold on the other?"

"Hush!" cried the earl, "it is justice that beckons me, and victory
will receive me to her arms. Let, oh Power above!" exclaimed he, in
the fervor of enthusiasm, "let the victorious field for Scotland be
Donald Mar's grave, rather than doom him to live a witness of her
miseries!"

"I cannot stay to hear you!" answered the countess; "I must invoke the
Virgin to give me courage to be a patriot's wife; at present, your
words are daggers to me."

In uttering this she hastily withdrew, and left the earl to muse on the
past-to concert plans for the portentous future.



Chapter VII.

Bothwell Castle.

Meanwhile the Lady Helen had retired to her own apartments. Lord Mar's
banner being brought to her from the armory, she sat down to weave into
its silken texture the amber locks of the Scottish chief. Admiring
their softness and beauty, while her needle flew, she pictured to
herself the fine countenance they had once adorned.

The duller extremities of the hair, which a sadder liquid than that
which now dropped from her eyes and rendered stiff and difficult to
entwine with the warp of the silk, seemed to adhere to her fingers.
Helen almost shrunk from the touch. "Unhappy lady!" she sighed to
herself; "what a pang must have rent her heart, when the stroke of so
cruel a death tore her from such a husband! and how must he have loved
her, when for her sake he thus forswears all future joys but those
which camps and victories may yield! Ah! what would I give to be my
cousin Murray, to bear this pennon at his side! What would I give to
reconcile so admirable a being to happiness again-to weep his griefs,
or smile him into comfort! To be that man's friend, would be a higher
honor than to be Edward's queen."

Her heart was thus discoursing with itself when a page opened the door
for her cousin, who begged admittance. She had just fastened the
flowing charge into its azure field, and while embroidering the motto,
gladly assented.

"You know not, my good old man," said the gallant Murray to Halbert, as
he conducted him across the galleries, "what a noble mind is contained
in that lovely young creature. I was brought up with her, and to the
sweet contagion of her taste do I owe that love of true glory which
carries me to the side of Sir William Wallace. The virtuous only can
awaken any interest in her heart; and in these degenerate days long
might have been its sleep had not the history which my uncle recounted
of your brave master aroused her attention, and filled her with an
admiration equal to my own. I know she rejoices in my present
destination. And to prevent her hearing from your own lips all you
have now told me of the mild as well as heroic virtues of my intended
commander-all you have said of the heroism of his wife-would be
depriving her of a mournful pleasure, only to be appreciated by a heart
such as hers."

The gray-haired bard of Ellerslie, who had ever received the dearest
reward of his songs in the smiles of its mistress, did not require
persuasion to appear before the gentle lady of Mar, or to recite in her
ears the story of the departed loveliness, fairer than poet ever
feigned.

Helen rose as he and her cousin appeared. Murray approved the
execution of her work; and Halbert, with a full heart, took the pennon
in his hand. "Ah! little did my dear lady think," exclaimed he, "that
one of these loved locks would ever be suspended on a staff to lead men
to battle! What changes have a few days made! She, the gentlest of
women, laid in a bloody grave; and he, the most benevolent of human
beings, wielding an exterminating sword!

"You speak of her grave, venerable man," inquired Helen; "had you,
then, an opportunity of performing the rites of sepulture to her
remains?"

"No, madam," replied he; "after the worthy English soldier now in this
castle, assisted me to place her precious body in my lord's oratory, I
had no opportunity of returning to give her a more holy grave."

"Alas!" cried Helen; "then her sacred relics have been consumed in the
burning house!"

"I hope not," rejoined Halbert; "the chapel I speak of is at some
distance from the main building. It was excavated in the rock by Sir
Ronald Crawford, who gave the name of Ellerslie to this estate, in
compliment to Sir William's place of birth in Renfrewshire, and
bestowed it on the bridal pair. Since then, the Ellerslie of
Clydesdale has been as dear to my master as that of the Carth; and well
it might be, for it was not only the home of all his wedded joys, but
under its roof his mother, the Lady Margaret Crawford, drew her first
breath. Ah! woe is me! that happy house is now, like herself, reduced
to cold, cold ashes! She married Sir Malcolm Wallace, and he is gone
too! Both the parents of my honored master died in the bloom of their
lives; and a grievous task will it be to whoever is to tell the good
Sir Ronald that the last sweet flower of Ellerslie is now cut down!
that the noblest branch of his own stem is torn from the soil to which
he had transplanted it, and cast far away into the waste wilderness!"**


**The Ellerslie in Renfrewshire here referred to, and which was the
birthplace of William Wallace, and the hereditary property of his
father, Sir Malcolm Wallace, was situated in the abbey parish of
Paisley, three miles west of the won of Paisley, and nine from Glasgow.
A large old oak, still called Wallace's Oak, stands close to the road
from Paisley to Leith, and within a short distance from it once stood
the manor of Ellerslie. The venerable name is now corrupted into
Elderslie, and the estate has become the property of Archibald Spiers,
Esq., M. P. for Renfrewshire. For this topographical account, I am
indebted to a Renfrewshire gentleman.-(1809.)

The tears of the venerable harper bore testimony to his inward resolve,
that this messenger should not be himself. Lady Helen, who had fallen
into a reverie during the latter part of his speech, now spoke, and
with something of eagerness.

"Then we shall hope," rejoined she, "that the oratory has not only
escaped the flames, but perhaps the access of the English soldiers?
Would it not comfort your lord to have that sweet victim entombed
according to the rites of the church?"

"Surely my lady; but how can that be done? He thinks her remains were
lost in the conflagration of Ellerslie; and for fear of precipitating
him into the new dangers which might have menaced him had he sought to
bring away her body, I did not disprove his mistake."

"But her body shall be brought away," rejoined Lady Helen; "it shall
have holy burial."

"To effect this, command my services," exclaimed Murray.

Helen thanked him for an assistance which would render the completion
of her design easy. The English soldier as guide, and a troop from
Bothwell, must accompany him.

"Alas! my young lord," interposed Halbert, "suppose you should meet
some of the English still loitering there?"

"And what of that, my honest Halbert? would not I and my trusty band
make them clear the way? Is it not to give comfort to the deliverer of
my uncle, that I seek the glen? and shall anything in mortal shape make
Andrew Murray turn his back? No, Halbert! I was not born on St.
Andrew's day for naught; and by his bright cross I swear either to lay
Lady Wallace in the tomb of my ancestors, or leave my bones to bleach
on the grave of hers."

Helen loved the resolution of her cousin; and believing that the now
ravaged Ellerslie had no attractions to hold marauders amongst its
ruins, she dismissed Lord Andrew to make his preparations, and turned
herself to prefer her suit accordingly to her father.

Ere Halbert withdrew, he respectfully put her hand to his lips.
"Good-night," continued she, "ere you see me again, I trust the earthly
part of the angel now in paradise will be safe within these towers."
He poured a thousand blessings on her head, and almost thought that he
saw in her beautiful form one of heaven's inhabitants sent to bear away
his dear mistress to her divine abode.

On entering her father's apartment, Lady Helen found him alone. She
repeated to him the substance of her conversation with Wallace's
faithful servant; "and my wish is," continued she, "to have the
murdered lady's remains entombed in the cemetery of this castle."

The earl approved her request, with expressions of satisfaction at the
filial affection which so lively a gratitude to his preserver evinced.

"May I, then, my dear father," returned she, "have your permission to
pay our debt of gratitude to Sir William Wallace to the utmost of our
power?"

"You are at liberty, my noble child, to do as you please. My vassals,
my coffers, are all at your command."

Helen kissed his hand. "May I have what I please from the Bothwell
armory?"

"Command even there," said the earl; "your uncle Bothwell is too true a
Scot to grudge a sword in so pious a cause."

Helen threw her arms about her father's neck, thanking him tenderly,
and with a beating heart retired to prosecute her plans. Murray, who
met her in the anteroom, informed her that fifty men, the sturdiest in
the glen, awaited her orders; while she, telling her cousin of the
earl's approval, took the sacred banner in her hand, and followed him
to the gallery in the hall.

The moment she appeared, a shout of joy bade her welcome. Murray waved
his hands in token of silence; while she, smiling with the benignity
that spoke her angel errand, spoke with agitation:

"My brave friends!" said she, "I thank you for the ardor with which, by
this night's enterprise, you assist me to pay, in part, the everlasting
tribute due to the man who preserved to me the blessing of a father.

"With that spirit, then," returned she, "I address ye with greater
confidence. Who amongst you will shrink from following this standard
to the field for Scotland's honor? Who will refuse to make himself the
especial guardian of the life of Sir William Wallace? and who, in the
moment of peril, will not stand by him to the last?

"None are her," cried a young man, advancing before his fellows, "who
would not gladly die in his defense."

"We swear it," burst from every lip at once.

She bowed her head, and said, "Return from Ellerslie to-morrow, with
the bier of its sainted mistress, I will then bestow upon every man in
this band a war-bonnet plumed with my colors; and this banner shall
then lead you to the side of Sir William Wallace. In the shock of
battle look at its golden ensign, and remember that God not only armeth
the patriot's hand, but shieldeth his heart. In this faith, be ye the
bucklers which Heaven sends to guard the life of Wallace; and, so
honored, exult in your station, and expect the future gratitude of
Scotland."

"Wallace and Lady Helen! to death or liberty!" was the animated
response to this exhortation; and smiling and crossing her hands over
her bosom, in token of thanks of them and to Heaven, she retired in the
midst of their acclamations. Murray, ready armed for his expedition,
met her at the door. Restored to his usual vivacity by the
spirit-moving emotions which the present scene awakened in his heart,
he forgot the horror which had aroused his zeal, in the glory of some
anticipated victory; and giving her a gay salutation, led her back to
her apartments, where the English soldier awaited her commands. Lady
Helen, with a gentle grace, commended his noble resentment of
Heselrigge's violence.

"Lands in Mar shall be yours," added she, "or a post of honor in the
little army the earl is now going to raise. Speak but the word, and
you shall find, worthy Englishman, that neither a Scotsman, nor his
daughter, know what it is to be ungrateful."

The blood mounted into the soldier's cheek. "I thank you, sweetest
lady, for this generous offer; but, as I am an Englishman, I dare not
accept it. My arms are due to my own country; and whether I am tied to
it by lands or possessions, or have naught but my English blood and my
oath to my king to bind me, still I should be equally unwarranted in
breaking these bonds. I left Heselrigge because he dishonored my
country; and for me to forswear her, would be to make myself infamous.
Hence, all I ask is, that after I have this night obeyed your gracious
commands, in leading your men to Ellerslie, the Earl of Mar will allow
me instantly to depart for the nearest port."

Lady Helen replied that she revered his sentiments too sincerely to
insult them by any persuasions to the contrary; and taking a diamond
clasp from her bosom, she put it into his hand; "Wear it in remembrance
of your virtue, and of Helen Mar's gratitude."

The man kissed it respectfully, and bowing, swore to preserve so
distinguishing a gift to the latest hour of his existence.

Helen retired to her chamber to finish her task; and Murray, bidding
her good-night, repaired to the earl's apartments, to take his final
orders before he and his troop set out for the ruins of Ellerslie.


Chapter VIII.

Bothwell Chapel.



Night having passed over the sleepless heads of the inhabitants of
Bothwell Castle, as soon as the sun arose, the Earl of Mar was carried
from his chamber, and laid on a couch in the state apartment. His lady
had not yet left the room of his daughter, by whose side she had lain
the whole night in hopes of infecting her with the fears which
possessed himself.

Helen replied that she could see no reason for such direful
apprehension, if her father, instead of joining Wallace in person,
would, when he had sent him succors, retire with his family into the
Highlands, and there await the issue of the contest. "It is too late
to retreat, dear madam," continued she; "the first blow against the
public enemy was struck in defense of Lord Mar; and would you have my
father act so base a part, as to abandon his preserver to the wrath
such generous assistance has provoked?"

"Alas, my child!" answered the countess, "what great service will he
have done to me or to your father, if he deliver him from one danger,
only to plunge him into another? Edward's power in this country is too
great to be resisted now. Have not most of our barons sworn fealty to
him? and are not the potent families of the Cummin, the Soulis, and the
March, all in his interest? You may perhaps say, that most of these
are my relations, and that I may turn them which way I will; but if I
have no influence with a husband, it would be madness to expect it over
more distant kindred. How, then, with such a host against him, can
your infatuated father venture, without despair, to support the man who
breaks the peace with England?"

"Who can despair, honored lady," returned Helen, "in so just a cause?
Let us rather believe with our good King David, that 'Honor must hope
always; for no real evil can befall the virtuous, either in this world
or in the next!' Were I a man, the justice that leads on the brave
Wallace would nerve my arm with the strength of a host. Besides, look
at our country; God's gift of freedom is stamped upon it. Our
mountains are his seal. Plains are the proper territories of tyranny;
there the armies of a usurper may extend themselves with ease; leaving
no corner unoccupied in which patriotism might shelter or treason hide.
But mountains, glens, morasses, lakes, set bounds to conquest; and
amidst these stands the impregnable seat of liberty. To such a
fortress, to the deep defiles of Loch Katrine, or to the
cloud-curtained heights of Corryarraick, I would have my father retire.
In safety he may there watch the footsteps of our mountain-goddess,
till, led by her immortal champion, she plants her standard again upon
the hills of Scotland."

The complexion of the animated Helen shone with a radiant glow. Her
heart panted with a foretaste of the delight she would feel when all
her generous wishes should be fulfilled; and pressing the now completed
banner to her breast, with an enthusiasm she believed prophetic, her
lips moved, though her voice did not utter the inexpressible rapture of
her heart.

Lady Mar looked at her. "It is well, romantic girl, that you are of my
own powerless sex; had it been otherwise, your rash-headed disobedience
might have made me rue the day I became your father's wife."

"Sex," returned Helen, mildly, "could not have altered my sense of
duty. Whether man or woman, I would obey you in all things consistent
with my duty to a higher power; but when that commands, then by the
ordinance of Heaven, we must 'leave father and mother, and cleave unto
it.'"

"And what, O foolish Helen, do you call a higher duty than that of a
child to a parent, or a husband to his wife?"

"Duty of any kind," respectfully answered the young daughter of Mar,
"cannot be transgressed with innocence. Nor would it be any
relinquishing of duty to you, should my father leave you to take up
arms in the assertion of his country's rights. Her rights are your
safety; and therefore, in defending them, a husband or a son best shows
his sense of domestic, as well as of public duty."

"Who taught you this sophistry, Helen? Not your heart, for it would
start at the idea of your father's blood."

Helen turned pale. "Perhaps, madam, had not the preservation of my
father's blood occasioned such malignity from the English, that nothing
but an armed force can deliver his preserver, I, too, might be content
to see Scotland in slavery. But now, to wish my father to shrink
behind the excuse of far-strained family duties, and to abandon Sir
William Wallace to the blood hounds who hunt his life, would be to
devote his name of Mar to infamy, and deservedly bring a curse upon his
offspring."

"Then it is to preserve Sir William Wallace you are thus anxious. Your
spirit of freedom is now disallowed, and all this mighty gathering is
for him. My husband, his vassals, your cousin, and, in short, the
sequestration of the estates of Mar and Bothwell, are all to be put to
the hazard on account of a frantic outlaw, to whom, since the loss of
his wife, I should suppose, death would be preferable to any gratitude
we can pay him."

Lady Helen, at this ungrateful language, inwardly thanked Heaven that
she inherited no part of the blood which animated so unfeeling a heart.
"That he is an outlaw, Lady Mar, springs from us. That death is the
preferable comforter of his sorrows, also, he owes to us; for was it
not for my father's sake that his wife fell, and that he himself was
driven into the wilds? I do not, then, blush for making his
preservation my first prayer; and that he may achieve the freedom of
Scotland, is my second."

"We shall see whose prayers will be answered first," resumed Lady Mar,
rising coldly from her seat. "My saints are perhaps nearer than yours,
and before the close of this day you will have reason to repent such
extravagant opinions. I do not understand them."

"Till now, you never disapproved them."

"I allowed them in your infancy," replied the countess, "because I
thought they went no further than a minstrel's song; but since they are
become so dangerous, I rue the hour in which I complied with the
entreaties of Sir Richard Maitland, and permitted you and your sister
to remain at Thirlestane, to imbibe these romantic ideas from the
wizard of Ercildown.** Had not Sir Richard been your own mother's
father, I would not have been so easily prevailed on; and thus am I
rewarded for my indulgence."

**Few personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Ercildown,
usually called the Rhymer. He was a poet and a sage, and believed by
his contemporaries to be a prophet. He was born at Ercildown, a
village on the Leeder (or Lauder), where the ruins of his paternal
castle, called Learmont Tower, still remain.-(1809.)

"I hope, honored madam," said Helen, still wishing to soften the
displeasure of her step-mother, "I hope you will never be ill-rewarded
for that indulgence, either by my grandfather, my sister, or myself.
Isabella, in the quiet of Thirlestane, has no chance of giving you the
offense that I do; and I am forced to offend you, because I cannot
disobey my conscience." A tear stood in the eye of Lady Helen.
"Cannot you, dear Lady Mar," continued she, forcing a smile, "pardon
the daughter of your early friend, my mother, who loved you as a
sister? Cannot you forgive her Helen for revering justice even more
than your favor?"

More influenced by the sweet humility of her daughter-in-law than by
the ingenuous eloquence with which she maintained her sentiments, or
with the appeal to the memory of the first Lady Mar, the countess
relaxed the frigid air she had assumed, and kissing her, with many
renewed injunctions to bless the hand that might put a final stop to so
ruinous an enthusiasm in her family, she quitted the room.

As soon as Helen was alone, she forgot the narrow-minded arguments of
the countess; and calling to recollection the generous permission with
which her father had endowed her the night before, she wrapped herself
in her mantle, and, attended by her page, proceeded to the armory. The
armorer was already there, having just given out arms for three hundred
men, who, by the earl's orders were to assemble by noon on Bothwell
Moor.

Helen told the man she came for the best suit of armor in his
custody-"one of the most excellent proof."

He drew from an oaken chest a coat of black mail, studded with gold.
Helen admired its strength and beauty. "It is the richest in all
Scotland," answered he; "and was worn by our great Canmore in all his
victories."

"Then it is worthy its destination. Bring it, with its helmet and
sword, to my apartment."

The armorer took it up; and, accompanied by the page carrying the
lighter parts, followed her into the western tower.

When Helen was again alone, it being yet very early in the morning, she
employed herself in pluming the casque, and forming the scarf she meant
should adorn her present. Thus time flew, till the sand-glass told her
it was the eighth hour. But ere she had finished her task, she was
roused from the profound stillness in which that part of the castle
lay, by the doleful lament of the troop returning from Ellerslie.

She dropped the half-formed scarf from her hand; and listened, without
daring to draw her breath, to the deep-toned lamentations. She thought
that she had never before heard the dirge of her country so piercing,
so thrillingly awful. Her head fell on the armor and scarf. "Sweet
lady," sighed she to herself, "who is it that dares thus invade thy
duties? But my gratitude-gratitude to the once-loved lord, will not
offend thy pure spirit!" Again the mournful wailings rose on the air;
and with a convulsion of feelings she could not restrain, she threw
herself on her knees, and leaning her head on the newly-adorned helmet,
wept profusely.

Murray entered the room unobserved. "Helen! my dear cousin!" cried he.
She started, and rising, apologized for her tears by owning the truth.
He now told her, that the body of the deceased lady was deposited in
the chapel of the castle; and that the priests from the adjacent priory
only awaited her presence to consign it, with the church's rites, to
its tomb.

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