Bothwell Bridge, Battle of, Scotland, 1679 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1660-1688 -- Fiction; War stories
“I will own frankly, Mr Balfour,” replied Morton, “much of this sort of
language, which, I observe, is so powerful with others, is entirely lost
on me. It is proper you should be aware of this before we commune further
together.” (The young clergyman here groaned deeply.) “I distress you,
sir,” said Morton; “but, perhaps, it is because you will not hear me out.
I revere the Scriptures as deeply as you or any Christian can do. I look
into them with humble hope of extracting a rule of conduct and a law of
salvation. But I expect to find this by an examination of their general
tenor, and of the spirit which they uniformly breathe, and not by
wresting particular passages from their context, or by the application of
Scriptural phrases to circumstances and events with which they have often
very slender relation.”
The young divine seemed shocked and thunderstruck with this declaration,
and was about to remonstrate.
“Hush, Ephraim!” said Burley, “remember he is but as a babe in swaddling
clothes.--Listen to me, Morton. I will speak to thee in the worldly
language of that carnal reason, which is, for the present, thy blind and
imperfect guide. What is the object for which thou art content to draw
thy sword? Is it not that the church and state should be reformed by the
free voice of a free parliament, with such laws as shall hereafter
prevent the executive government from spilling the blood, torturing and
imprisoning the persons, exhausting the estates, and trampling upon the
consciences of men, at their own wicked pleasure?”
“Most certainly,” said Morton; “such I esteem legitimate causes of
warfare, and for such I will fight while I can wield a sword.”
“Nay, but,” said Macbriar, “ye handle this matter too tenderly; nor will
my conscience permit me to fard or daub over the causes of divine wrath.”
“Peace, Ephraim Macbriar!” again interrupted Burley.
“I will not peace,” said the young man. “Is it not the cause of my Master
who hath sent me? Is it not a profane and Erastian destroying of his
authority, usurpation of his power, denial of his name, to place either
King or Parliament in his place as the master and governor of his
household, the adulterous husband of his spouse?”
“You speak well,” said Burley, dragging him aside, “but not wisely; your
own ears have heard this night in council how this scattered remnant are
broken and divided, and would ye now make a veil of separation between
them? Would ye build a wall with unslaked mortar?--if a fox go up, it
will breach it.”
“I know,” said the young clergyman, in reply, “that thou art faithful,
honest, and zealous, even unto slaying; but, believe me, this worldly
craft, this temporizing with sin and with infirmity, is in itself a
falling away; and I fear me Heaven will not honour us to do much more for
His glory, when we seek to carnal cunning and to a fleshly arm. The
sanctified end must be wrought by sanctified means.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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