redress of the wrongs which we complain of.”
“Mr Morton,” replied the Duke, “you are young, but you must have seen enough of the world to perceive, that requests, by no means dangerous or unreasonable in themselves, may become so by the way in which they are pressed and supported.”
“We may reply, my lord,” answered Morton, “that this disagreeable mode has not been resorted to until all others have failed.”
“Mr Morton,” said the Duke, “I must break this conference short. We are in readiness to commence the attack; yet I will suspend it for an hour, until you can communicate my answer to the insurgents. If they please to disperse their followers, lay down their arms, and send a peaceful deputation to me, I will consider myself bound in honour to do all I can to procure redress of their grievances; if not, let them stand on their guard and expect the consequences.— I think, gentlemen,” he added, turning to his two colleagues, “this is the utmost length to which I can stretch my instructions in favour of these misguided persons?”
“By my faith,” answered Dalzell, suddenly, “and it is a length to which my poor judgment durst not have stretched them, considering I had both the King and my conscience to answer to! But, doubtless, your Grace knows more of the King’s private mind than we, who have only the letter of our instructions to look to.”
Monmouth blushed deeply. “You hear,” he said, addressing Morton, “General Dalzell blames me for the length which I am disposed to go in your favour.”
“General Dalzell’s sentiments, my lord,” replied Morton, “are such as we expected from him; your Grace’s such as we were prepared to hope you might please to entertain. Indeed I cannot help adding, that, in the case of the absolute submission upon which you are pleased to insist, it might still remain something less than doubtful how far, with such counsellors around the King, even your Grace’s intercession might procure us effectual relief. But I will communicate to our leaders your Grace’s answer to our supplication; and, since we cannot obtain peace, we must bid war welcome as well as we may.”
“Good morning, sir,” said the Duke; “I suspend the movements of attack for one hour, and for one hour only. If you have an answer to return within that space of time, I will receive it here, and earnestly entreat it may be such as to save the effusion of blood.”
At this moment another smile of deep meaning passed between Dalzell and Claverhouse. The Duke observed it, and repeated his words with great dignity.
“Yes, gentlemen, I said I trusted the answer might be such as would save the effusion of blood. I hope the sentiment neither needs your scorn, nor incurs your displeasure.”
Dalzell returned the Duke’s frown with a stern glance, but made no answer. Claverhouse, his lip just curled with an ironical smile, bowed, and said, “It was not for him to judge the propriety of his Grace’s sentiments.”
The Duke made a signal to Morton to withdraw. He obeyed; and, accompanied by his former escort, rode slowly through the army to return to the camp of the non-conformists. As he passed the fine corps of Life-Guards, he found Claverhouse was already at their head. That officer no sooner saw Morton, than he advanced and addressed him with perfect politeness of manner.
“I think this is not the first time I have seen Mr Morton of Milnwood?”
“It is not Colonel Grahame’s fault,” said Morton, smiling sternly, “that he or any one else should be now incommoded by my presence.”
“Allow me at least to say,” replied Claverhouse, “that Mr Morton’s present situation authorizes the opinion I have entertained of him, and that my proceedings at our last meeting only squared to my duty.”
“To reconcile your actions to your duty, and your duty to your conscience, is your business, Colonel Grahame, not mine,” said Morton, justly offended at being thus, in a manner, required to approve of the sentence under which he had so nearly suffered.
“Nay, but stay an instant,” said Claverhouse; “Evandale insists that I have some wrongs to acquit myself of in your instance. I trust I shall always make some difference between a high-minded gentleman, who, though misguided, acts upon generous principles, and the crazy fanatical clowns yonder, with the bloodthirsty assassins who head them. Therefore, if they do not disperse upon your return, let me pray you instantly come over to our army and surrender yourself, for, be assured, they cannot stand our assault for half an hour. If you will be ruled and do this, be sure to enquire for me. Monmouth, strange as it may seem, cannot protect you — Dalzell will not — I both can and will; and I have promised to Evandale to do so if you will give me an opportunity.”
“I should owe Lord Evandale my thanks,” answered Morton, coldly, “did not his scheme imply an opinion that I might be prevailed on to desert those with whom I am engaged. For you, Colonel Grahame, if you will honour me with a different species of satisfaction, it is probable, that, in an hour’s time, you will find me at the west end of Bothwell Bridge with my sword in my hand.”
“I shall be happy to meet you there,” said Claverhouse, “but still more so should you think better on my first proposal.”
They then saluted and parted.
“That is a pretty lad, Lumley,” said Claverhouse, addressing himself to the other officer; “but he is a lost man — his blood be upon his head.”
So saying, he addressed himself to the task of preparation for instant battle.
28 Moderate Presbyterians. The author does not, by any means, desire that Poundtext should be regarded as a just representation of the moderate presbyterians, among whom were many ministers whose courage was equal to their good sense and sound views of religion. Were he to write the tale anew, he would probably endeavour to give the character a higher turn. It is certain, however, that the Cameronians imputed to their opponents in opinion concerning the Indulgence, or others of their strained and fanatical notions, a disposition not only to seek their own safety, but to enjoy themselves. Hamilton speaks of three clergymen of this description as follows:—
“They pretended great zeal against the Indulgence; but alas! that was all their practice, otherwise being but very gross, which I shall but hint at in short. When great Cameron and those with him were taking many a cold blast and storm in the fields and among the cot-houses in Scotland, these three had for the most part their residence in Glasgow, where they found good quarter and a full table, which I doubt not but some bestowed upon them from real affection to the Lord’s cause; and when these three were together, their greatest work was who should make the finest and sharpest roundel, and breathe the quickest jests upon one another, and to tell what valiant acts they were to do, and who could laugh loudest and most heartily among them; and when at any time they came out to the country, whatever other things they had, they were careful each of them to have a great flask of brandy with them, which was very heavy to some, particularly to Mr Cameron, Mr Cargill, and Henry Hall — I shall name no more.”— Faithful Contendings, p. 198.
29 Usually called Tom Dalzell. In Crichton’s Memoirs, edited by Swift, where a particular account of this remarkable person’s dress and habits is given, he is said never to have worn boots. The following account of his rencounter with John Paton of Meadowhead, showed, that in action at least he wore pretty stout ones, unless the reader be inclined to believe in the truth of his having a charm, which made him proof against lead.
“Dalzell,” says Paton’s biographer, “advanced the whole left wing of his army on Colonel Wallace’s
