Part 2

Alexander Cockburn and his five sons then began to erect a sort o' half hut, half tent, beside those o' the rest o' the army, that they might be always in readiness. And, oh, sir, at that period, Dunse Law presented one o' the grandest sights that ever the eyes o' man were witness to. On the side o' that hill were encamped four-and-twenty thousand men. Lowest down, lay the tents o' the nobles and the great officers, their tops rising like pyramids; before them were placed forty pieces o' cannon; and between them were the tents o' their captains; and from every captain's tent streamed a broad blue flag, on which was inscribed the words I have already quoted--"FOR CHRIST'S CROWN AND THE COVENANT." Higher up the hill were the straw-covered and turf-built huts o' the soldiers: and from the rising o' the sun until its going down, ye wouldna hae heard an oath or a profane expression amongst those four-and-twenty thousand men; but, on the contrary, hundreds o' the ministers o' the gospel were there, each man with his Bible in his hand, and his sword girt upon his thigh, ready to lead his followers to the battle, or to lay down his life in testimony o' the truth o' the doctrines which he preached. Morning and night there was public worship throughout the camp, and the drum summoned the army to prayers and to hearing the Word, while the services were attended by all, from the general down to the humblest recruit that had but newly entered the ranks. At every hour in the day, also, from some part o' the camp or other, the sounds o' praise and prayer were heard. Every man in that army was an enthusiast; but he had a glorious cause to excite his enthusiasm--the cause o' his Creator, and his country's liberty--ay, and the liberty, the rights, and privileges o' posterity also. Yes, sir, I say o' posterity; for it is to those men that we are indebted for the blessings and the freedom which we enjoy beyond the people o' other countries; though there are men who dared to call them _mere fanatics_!--fanatics, indeed!--but, oh, they are fanatics that saved their country--that braved oppression--that defied it even to death, and that wi' their own blood wrote the irrevocable charter o' our liberty! If they were fanatics, they were such as every nation in the world would be proud to call its sons, and would glory to have possessed. They are fanatics, if they must be called so, whose deeds, whose characters, whose firmness o' purpose, the integrity o' whose principles, and whose matchless courage, with the sublime height to which they carried their devotion, despising imprisonment, pain, and death, render us unworthy o' being numbered as their descendants. I canna endure to hear the men, whose graves are the foundations on which are built our civil and religious liberties, so spoken o'; I winna see their graves--I winna hear their memories profaned. More fit we were to set up a national monument in remembrance o' them.

On the day after the army o' the Covenant encamped on Dunse Law, the king held a grand review o' his army by Tweedside; but just as the review was over--and when the king and his courtiers were retiring, to sit down to their wine, and their feasts o' fat things, and his poor half-hungered soldiers to kitchen out a broken biscuit or a piece o' bare bannock (while the Covenanters were living like gentlemen on wheaten bread and flesh-meat every day)--some o' the Loyalists, that had clearer een than others, observed the great camp upon Dunse Law, and the hundred banners waving in the wind, and ran to communicate what they had observed to the king. Charles, to do him justice, was a canny, silly sort o' a body, but just infatuated wi' his ideas about his prerogative--by which he meant absolute power--and his foolish desire to force everybody to swallow a bishop, gown, sleeves, and all! However, when he heard that the "blue bonnets were bound for the Border," he spoke angrily and disdainfully to his officers, and upbraided them that they had not brought him tidings o' the movements o' his enemies; and, calling for his prospect-glass, he stood upon the bank o' the river--and there, sure enough, to his sorrow and consternation, he beheld the camp, and the multitude o' armed men. He even to a nearness counted their numbers. Now, Dunse, as the crow flies, not being quite seven miles to where the Tweed forms the border line between Ladykirk and Norham, his Majesty spoke o' punishing the Covenanters for having broken the compact that they had entered into not to approach within ten miles--forgetting, be it remembered, that he was the first aggressor, in having sent his troops to attack a party o' the Covenanters at Kelso; and forgetting, also, that his army was unable to stand up, even for a single hour, against the host who stood over against them. He soon, however, became sensible o' his weakness, and he again began to offer liberal and generous terms to his armed subjects; but no sooner did he find them ready to accept them, than his kingly word became like a whuff o' reek that has vanished out o' sight in the air!--ye may seek it, but where will ye find it? The Covenanters were not willing to bathe their swords in the blood o' their fellow-subjects, and the king was feared to measure the strength o' his army against the blue-bonneted host.

But, as it is not my intention to narrate to ye a history o' the wars o' the Covenant, I shall only say that the king, seeing he had no chance if it came to a battle, consented to summon a parliament, and that everything should be settled as the Covenanters desired. Both armies were accordingly disbanded, and Alexander Cockburn and his five sons returned home to their own house, and laid their weapons aside.

The old man said that "he trusted the time had come when in this country the sword should be turned into a ploughshare, and the spear into a pruning-hook."

But Alice answered him, saying, "O Alexander! a foolish thing has been done by our rulers. They have got an assurance from the king; but they ought to have made assurance doubly sure. You have read, and they must have read--'Put not your trust in princes.' The day is not distant when they will rue that they overlooked that text."

There was too much o' the nature o' prophecy in the words which Alice spoke; for twelve months had not passed, when the mischief-making little churchman, Bishop Laud, and other evil spirits o' a similar stamp, egged up the simple king to break a' the promises he had made to the people o' Scotland, and wi' a strong hand carry war and revenge into the country. But, poor man, he reckoned without his host. His advisers were like the counsellors o' Solomon's son--they advised him to his ruin. The news o' his intention ran through Scotland like wildfire. Beacons burned on the mountains--men gathered on the plains--and before the king was in readiness to leave London, all Scotland was in arms. Old Leslie was once more chosen commander-in-chief; and the same valiant men that the year before had encamped upon Dunse Law, gathered together, and marched towards the Borders.

They had reached Chousely, which is between three and four miles west o' Dunse, when Alexander Cockburn and his sons again joined them, and brought with them an offering o' provisions, as before. The general again remembered and welcomed them; and he recollected them the more readily, because Alice accompanied them. On the following morning, when the army began to march towards the south, she took her leave o' them, saying, "Fareweel, husband! bairns!--to the protection o' Him whose battles ye go forth to fight, I resign ye. Pray ye that, whate'er betide, I may be strengthened to bow my head, and say, '_His will be done_!' Go, then, acquit yoursels valiantly; think on the sacred cause in which ye are engaged, and trust in the Hand that will sustain ye. Bairns, fareweel!--your mother blesses you!--she will pray for you! Husband, fareweel!--look after our bairns. Alexander! ye are the youngling o' my flock; and oh, hinny, my heart yearns for ye, lest ye permit unworthy thoughts to arise in yer breast, that may deprive yer young arm o' its strength."

"Fear not for me, mother," replied the youth.

She therefore returned home; and they proceeded wi' the army towards Coldstream, from whence they crossed the Tweed, and proceeded, by way o' Wooler and Longframlington, towards Newcastle, o' which town they came within sight on the tenth day after entering Northumberland; but, finding Newcastle strongly fortified and garrisoned by the king's troops, under General Conway, they proceeded a few miles up the Tyne to Newburn, where the civil war in reality began, and the first battle was fought.

When the king's troopers heard that the Covenanters were encamped at Newburn, they galloped out o' Newcastle, sword in hand; each man swearing lustily that he would kill a dozen o' the blue-bonnetted Jockies--as they called the Covenanters in derision--and boasting that they would make prisoners o' all who escaped the sword. But when the inhabitants o' the canny toon heard the braggadocio o' the redcoats, as they galloped through the streets, flourishing their swords, "Dinna brag tow fast, lads," said they, shaking their heads; "words arena deeds; and tak care that each ane o' ye doesna catch a Tartar."

Next morning, the battle o' Newburn was fought; and the tone o' the king's soldiers was indeed lowered. They were routed at every point, they ran to and fro in confusion, and their panic was like a whirlwind in a barn-yard. "The road to Durham--show us, show us the road to Durham!" they cried; and, helter-skelter, neck-or-nought, leaving swords, pistols, carbines, muskets, everything they could throw away, by the roadside, away to Durham, and far beyond it, they ran.

Only five o' the army o' the Covenant were left dead on the field, but among those five was old Alexander Cockburn, the husband o' Alice. After the battle, his sons found his mangled and lifeless body in a narrow lane, between two gardens, surrounded by a heap o' dead Loyalists, who had sunk beneath his sword before he fell.

It is said that the first blow is half the battle; and it was so wi' the Covenanters upon this occasion; their sudden victory at Newburn not only struck dismay into the hearts o' the royal troops, but reason and fear baith began to whisper their warnings in the ears o' the monarch. He once more became a negotiator and seeker for peace with his thrice-cheated and injured subjects. They remembered the divine precept, to forgive their brother though he offended against them seven times in a day, and they kept this commandment before their eyes in all their dealings with the king. They forgave him his lack o' faith, and the hollowness o' his promises; and, extending to him the right hand o' allegiance, he once more gave his kingly pledge to grant them all that they desired, and to ratify it by the acts o' a parliament. Puir man! he had lang been baith king and parliament in his ain person; and he conceived that in him dwelt absolute power, and absolute wisdom; but little did he dree what a dear parliament the ane that he then spoke o' was to be to him. It is distinguished by the emphatic appellation o' "THE PARLIAMENT" even unto this day; and by that designation it will continue to be known. Thus the arms and the cause o' the Covenant again triumphed; and, the objects for which the army took the field being accomplished, they were dismissed, and returned every man to his own house.

With afflicted hearts, while they rejoiced at the accomplishment o' the object for which they had taken up arms, the five sons o' Alice Cockburn returned to Dunse. She was yet ignorant o' her husband's death, and having been informed o' their approach, she met them at the door. She stretched out her arms to welcome them, but they fell, as if suddenly stricken wi' palsy, by her side; and wi' a trembling voice, and a look that bespoke her forebodings, she inquired, "Where is _he_?"

They looked sadly one towards another, as if each were anxious that the other should communicate the tidings. Her eldest son took her hand, and said mournfully, "Come into the house, mother."

Their sorrowfu looks, their dejected manner, told her but too plainly her husband's fate.

"He is dead!" she cried, in a tone o' heart-piercing solitariness and sorrow, as she accompanied them into the house, where she had beheld them equip themselves for battle.

"My father is dead," said Alexander, her youngest; "but he died bravely, mother, in the cause in which ye glory, and in which a' Scotland glories; and, to the deeds done by his hand on the day he fell, we, in a great measure, owe the freedom o' our country, and the security o' the Covenant."

She clasped her hands together, and sat down and wept.

"Mother," said her sons, gathering round her, "dinna mourn."

She rose, she wept upon their necks from the eldest to the youngest. "Ye hae lost a faither," said she, "whose loss to ye nane but thae wha kenned him at his ain fireside can estimate; and I hae lost hae husband, who, for eight-and-thirty years, has been dearer to me than the licht o' the sun, for wherever he was, there was aye sunlicht upon my heart. But his life has been laid down in a cause worthy o' the first martyrs. I hae endeavoured to pray--'THY will be done;' and pray for me, bairns, that I may submit to that will without repining, for the stroke is heavy, and nature is weak."

Again she sat down and wept, and now she lifted her hands in prayer, and again she wrung them in the bereavement o' widowhood, saying, "O my Alexander!--my husband!--shall I never, never see ye again?" And her sons gathered round her, to comfort her.

On the day following, Alexander, the youngest o' the sons o' Alice, went towards Polwarth, in the hope o' obtaining an interview with Flora Stuart, whom he had not seen for several months; for, from the time that he had joined the Covenanting army on Dunse Law, her father had forbidden him his house. He spoke o' him as the young traitor, and forbade Flora, at her peril, to speak to him again. But, as the sang says,

Love will venture in where it daurna weel be seen;

and Alexander again ventured to see her whose image was for ever present wi' his thoughts, as if her portrait were engraven on his heart. It was about the back end o' harvest, and the full moon was shining bright upon the stubble fields and the brown hills; he was passing by Chousely (or, as some call it, Choicelee), the very place where his father, his brothers, and himself, had last joined the army o' the Covenant, when he observed a figure tripping along the road before him. One glance was sufficient. He knew it was she whom he sought--his own Flora. He ran forward.

"Flora!" he cried, "stop, dear--stop--it is me!"

She turned round and said, "Sir!"

The cold abruptness of that word "sir!" was like a dagger driven through his bosom, and for a moment he stood before her, in silence and confusion, as one who has been detected o' some offence. But true affection is never long either in finding words or an equivalent for them.

"Flora," said he, holding out his hand, "it is long since we met, I hae suffered affliction since then, and encountered danger, and considering the long, long friendship--the more than friendship, Flora--that has been between us, and the vows we have exchanged wi' each other, I think I micht have expected something mair frae ye now than--'Sir!' Is your heart changed, Flora--hae ye forgot me--or do ye wish to forget me?"

"No, Alexander," said she, "I hae not forgotten ye; nor hae I forgotten the vows that hae passed between us, as my unhappy heart is a secret witness; and if I did wish to forget ye, it wouldna be possible. For, wherever I micht be, the remembrance o' you would come o'er my thoughts like the shadow o' a cloud passing across a river."

"And after it had passed, would it leave as little impression upon your heart, Flora, as the shadow o' a cloud does upon a river?"

"Alexander," she replied, "I am not gaun to argue wi' ye, for I canna. But oh, man, ye hae drawn your sword against your king--ye hae fought against him, ye hae been a traitor in the land that gave ye birth; and, as my faither says, they who are rebellious subjects will never mak good husbands, or be regulated by the ties o' domestic life."

"Flora," returned he, "I deny altogether that what your faither says is correct. But, even allowing that it were, I deny that I hae taken up arms against my king, or that I am a rebellious subject. We took up arms against injustice, tyranny, and oppression; and the king had previously taken up arms against us. Look at the whole conduct o' the Covenant army--hae they not always listened to every proposal o' the king, and trusted to his royal word as faithful subjects who were wishful to prove their attachment to his throne and person? But where can ye point out the instance that he has not fled from his engagement and deceived us, and showed us that his promises and his pledges were not stronger than burned straw? Even the last engagement which he has made, and by which he is to secure to us the rights we have sought for, prayed for, fought for, I believe he will break--he will try to evade it, and give us vengeance in its stead--and if he does so, I am no longer his subject, but his enemy, even though it be at the sacrifice o' you, Flora; and rather than part wi' you, were it in my power, I would ten thousand times lay down my own life."

"Alexander," added she, "I haena forgotten the days when we were happy thegither, and when we neither thought o' kings nor o' onything else, but our twa sels. But now my faither forbids me to speak to ye; and I maun obey him. And though I think that, in the principles ye are following, ye are wrong, very wrong--yet, Alexander, be ye rebel, be ye what you will, there shall never be another name but yours dear to my heart--though we ne'er meet again."

"Dinna meet again, dearest!" cried he; "we will meet--we shall meet!--we shall be happy too! Never talk o' no meeting again." And they clung round each other's necks and wept.

They wandered lang backward and forward, forgetting how the hours flew during their lang, fond whispers; and Flora's father, attended by a servant man, came forth to seek her. He vehemently upbraided and threatened his daughter, and he as vehemently reviled Alexander. He called him by names that I couldna mention, and that he bore patiently; but he also spoke disrespectfully o' his mother--he heaped insults on the memory o' his dead faither. Alexander could endure no more; he sprang forward, he grasped him by the throat. He placed his hand upon his sword, which he still wore, and exclaimed, "Sir! there is a point to all endurance, and you have passed it!"

Flora rushed forward, she placed her hand on Alexander's arm--"Forbear!--what would you do?" she cried; "it is my faither!"

"Nothing!" he replied, calmly, yet sternly; "I would do nothing; I have borne much provocation, and acted rashly--for which rashness forgie me, Flora. When I first drew my sword to resist oppression, I vowed that, should I meet one that was dear to you in the ranks o' the oppressor, though his sword should pierce my body, mine should no be raised against him. Fareweel, dearest--happier days may come."

Four years had not passed, when the Covenanters found that they had but small cause to be satisfied wi' the promises and assurances o' the king. Provoked by his exactions, and his attempts at despotism, the people o' England had taken up arms against him. Montrose, who had been one o' the leaders o' the Covenant party, though a man possessed o' wonderfu' military talents, was to the full as ambitious as he was clever; and he hadna principle aneugh to withstand royal promises, smiles, and flattery, he therefore turned traitor to the cause in which he had at first embarked, and he turned the arms o' his Highlanders, and a body o' fierce Irishmen, against the men whom, three years before, he had led to battle. Again many o' the Covenanters rushed to arms, and amongst them the sons o' Alice Cockburn.

They served as musketeers under Sir James Scott, and fought side by side at the battle of Tippermuir. When, through the treachery o' some, and the want o' management o' others, the Covenanters were put to flight, the little band o' musketeers, seeking refuge in some ruined buildings, kept up an incessant fire upon the forces o' Montrose, as if resolved to sell their lives at the dearest price. Montrose, after many efforts finding that they would not surrender, put himself at the head o' a powerful body o' Athole men, and rushed upon the gallant band, who defended themselves like lions at bay. O' the five brothers, who fought side by side, four fell; and the youngest only was left, like a servant o' Job of old, to tell the tidings. When Alexander beheld the dead bodies o' his brothers lying around him, sorrow and revenge raged in his breast together. His fury became as the fury o' a tiger that is robbed o' its young. He dashed into the midst o' his enemies--he pressed forward to where Montrose was, crying, "Vengeance! vengeance!" he reached him--they engaged hand to hand. Montrose was pressed against a wall o' the ruins.

"Fause traitor! renegade!" exclaimed Alexander--"here shall I die, the avenger o' my country and my brothers' blood!"

His sword was uplifted to strike, when a body o' Athole men rushing to the rescue o' their commander, the sword was shivered in Alexander's hand, and he was made prisoner.

Several who had heard the words which he had applied to their leader, and had seen his hand raised against his life, insisted that his punishment should be death; and in justification o' their demand, they urged the threat o' the Covenanters to do the same by whosoever Montrose might send to treat wi' them.

A sort o' court-martial was accordingly held, and the fettered prisoner was brought forth before a tribunal who had already agreed upon his sentence. He, however, looked his judges boldly in the face. His cheeks were not blanched, nor did his lips move with fear; he heard the charges read against him--the epithets that had been applied to Montrose, who was the king's representative--and that he had raised his sword against his life. He daringly admitted his having applied the epithets--he repeated them again; and, raising his clenched and fettered hands in the face of his judges, he justified what he had said; and he regretted that his sword had been broken in his hand before it had accomplished the deed which he desired.

Montrose drew his brows together, and glanced upon him sternly; but the young prisoner met his gaze with a look of scorn.

"Away with him," said his judges; "to-morrow, let him be brought forth for execution. His fate shall be an example to all rebels."

During the night which he had heard to be pronounced the last o' his existence, and throughout which he heard the heavy tramp o' the sentinel pacing before the place o' his confinement, he mourned not for his own fate; but the tears ran down his cheeks when he thought o' his poor widowed, desolate, and unfriended mother!