Subscribe for ad free access & additional features for teachers. Authors: 267, Books: 3,607, Poems & Short Stories: 4,435, Forum Members: 71,154, Forum Posts: 1,238,602, Quizzes: 344


THE Author, on a former occasion, declined giving the real source
from which he drew the tragic subject of this history, because, though
occurring at a distant period, it might possibly be unpleasing to the
feelings of the descendants of the parties. But as he finds an account
of the circumstances given in the Notes to Law's Memorials, by his
ingenious friend, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq., and also indicated
in his reprint of the Rev. Mr. Symson's poems appended to the Large
Description of Galloway, as the original of the Bride of Lammermoor, the
Author feels himself now at liberty to tell the tale as he had it from
connexions of his own, who lived very near the period, and were closely
related to the family of the bride.

It is well known that the family of Dalrymple, which has produced,
within the space of two centuries, as many men of talent, civil and
military, and of literary, political, and professional eminence, as any
house in Scotland, first rose into distinction in the person of James
Dalrymple, one of the most eminent lawyers that ever lived, though the
labours of his powerful mind were unhappily exercised on a subject so
limited as Scottish jurisprudence, on which he has composed an admirable

He married Margaret, daughter to Ross of Balneel, with whom he obtained
a considerable estate. She was an able, politic, and high-minded woman,
so successful in what she undertook, that the vulgar, no way partial to
her husband or her family, imputed her success to necromancy. According
to the popular belief, this Dame Margaret purchased the temporal
prosperity of her family from the Master whom she served under a
singular condition, which is thus narrated by the historian of her
grandson, the great Earl of Stair: "She lived to a great age, and at
her death desired that she might not be put under ground, but that her
coffin should stand upright on one end of it, promising that while she
remained in that situation the Dalrymples should continue to flourish.
What was the old lady's motive for the request, or whether she really
made such a promise, I shall not take upon me to determine; but
it's certain her coffin stands upright in the isle of the church of
Kirklistown, the burial-place belonging to the family." The talents
of this accomplished race were sufficient to have accounted for
the dignities which many members of the family attained, without any
supernatural assistance. But their extraordinary prosperity was attended
by some equally singular family misfortunes, of which that which befell
their eldest daughter was at once unaccountable and melancholy.

Miss Janet Dalrymple, daughter of the first Lord Stair and Dame Margaret
Ross, had engaged herself without the knowledge of her parents to the
Lord Rutherford, who was not acceptable to them either on account of his
political principles or his want of fortune. The young couple broke
a piece of gold together, and pledged their troth in the most solemn
manner; and it is said the young lady imprecated dreadful evils on
herself should she break her plighted faith. Shortly after, a suitor
who was favoured by Lord Stair, and still more so by his lady, paid his
addresses to Miss Dalrymple. The young lady refused the proposal, and
being pressed on the subject, confessed her secret engagement. Lady
Stair, a woman accustomed to universal submission, for even her husband
did not dare to contradict her, treated this objection as a trifle, and
insisted upon her daughter yielding her consent to marry the new suitor,
David Dunbar, son and heir to David Dunbar of Baldoon, in Wigtonshire.
The first lover, a man of very high spirit, then interfered by letter,
and insisted on the right he had acquired by his troth plighted with the
young lady. Lady Stair sent him for answer, that her daughter, sensible
of her undutiful behaviour in entering into a contract unsanctioned by
her parents, had retracted her unlawful vow, and now refused to fulfil
her engagement with him.

The lover, in return, declined positively to receive such an answer from
any one but his mistress in person; and as she had to deal with a man
who was both of a most determined character and of too high condition
to be trifled with, Lady Stair was obliged to consent to an interview
between Lord Rutherford and her daughter. But she took care to be
present in person, and argued the point with the disappointed and
incensed lover with pertinacity equal to his own. She particularly
insisted on the Levitical law, which declares that a woman shall be
free of a vow which her parents dissent from. This is the passage of
Scripture she founded on:

"If a man vow a vow unto the Lord, or swear an oath to bind his soul
with a bond; he shall not break his word, he shall do according to all
that proceedeth out of his mouth.

"If a woman also vow a vow unto the Lord, and bind herself by a bond,
being in her father's house in her youth; And her father hear her vow,
and her bond wherewith she hath bound her soul, and her father shall
hold his peace at her: then all her vows shall stand, and every bond
wherewith she hath bound her soul shall stand.

"But if her father disallow her in the day that he heareth; not any
of her vows, or of her bonds wherewith she hath bound her soul, shall
stand: and the Lord shall forgive her, because her father disallowed
her."--Numbers xxx. 2-5.

While the mother insisted on these topics, the lover in vain conjured
the daughter to declare her own opinion and feelings. She remained
totally overwhelmed, as it seemed--mute, pale, and motionless as a
statue. Only at her mother's command, sternly uttered, she summoned
strength enough to restore to her plighted suitor the piece of broken
gold which was the emblem of her troth. On this he burst forth into a
tremendous passion, took leave of the mother with maledictions, and as
he left the apartment, turned back to say to his weak, if not fickle,
mistresss: "For you, madam, you will be a world's wonder"; a phrase by
which some remarkable degree of calamity is usually implied. He went
abroad, and returned not again. If the last Lord Rutherford was the
unfortunate party, he must have been the third who bore that title, and
who died in 1685.

The marriage betwixt Janet Dalrymple and David Dunbar of Baldoon now
went forward, the bride showing no repugnance, but being absolutely
passive in everything her mother commanded or advised. On the day of the
marriage, which, as was then usual, was celebrated by a great assemblage
of friends and relations, she was the same--sad, silent, and resigned,
as it seemed, to her destiny. A lady, very nearly connected with the
family, told the Author that she had conversed on the subject with one
of the brothers of the bride, a mere lad at the time, who had ridden
before his sister to church. He said her hand, which lay on his as she
held her arm around his waist, was as cold and damp as marble. But,
full of his new dress and the part he acted in the procession, the
circumstance, which he long afterwards remembered with bitter sorrow and
compunction, made no impression on him at the time.

The bridal feast was followed by dancing. The bride and bridegroom
retired as usual, when of a sudden the most wild and piercing cries were
heard from the nuptial chamber. It was then the custom, to prevent any
coarse pleasantry which old times perhaps admitted, that the key of
the nuptial chamber should be entrusted to the bridesman. He was called
upon, but refused at first to give it up, till the shrieks became so
hideous that he was compelled to hasten with others to learn the
cause. On opening the door, they found the bridegroom lying across the
threshold, dreadfully wounded, and streaming with blood. The bride
was then sought for. She was found in the corner of the large chimney,
having no covering save her shift, and that dabbled in gore. There she
sat grinning at them, mopping and mowing, as I heard the expression
used; in a word, absolutely insane. The only words she spoke were, "Tak
up your bonny bridegroom." She survived this horrible scene little more
than a fortnight, having been married on the 24th of August, and dying
on the 12th of September 1669.

The unfortunate Baldoon recovered from his wounds, but sternly
prohibited all inquiries respecting the manner in which he had received
them. "If a lady," he said, "asked him any question upon the subject,
he would neither answer her nor speak to her again while he lived; if
a gentleman, he would consider it as a mortal affront, and demand
satisfaction as having received such." He did not very long survive the
dreadful catastrophe, having met with a fatal injury by a fall from his
horse, as he rode between Leith and Holyrood House, of which he died the
next day, 28th March 1682. Thus a few years removed all the principal
actors in this frightful tragedy.

Various reports went abroad on this mysterious affair, many of them very
inaccurate, though they could hardly be said to be exaggerated. It
was difficult at that time to become acquainted with the history of a
Scottish family above the lower rank; and strange things sometimes took
place there, into which even the law did not scrupulously inquire.

The credulous Mr. Law says, generally, that the Lord President Stair had
a daughter, who, "being married, the night she was bride in, was taken
from her bridegroom and harled through the house (by spirits, we are
given to understand) and afterward died. Another daughter," he says,
"was supposed to be possessed with an evil spirit."

My friend, Mr. Sharpe, gives another edition of the tale. According
to his information, ti was the bridegroom who wounded the bride. The
marriage, according to this account, had been against her mother's
inclination, who had given her consent in these ominous words: "Weel,
you may marry him, but sair shall you repent it."

I find still another account darkly insinuated in some highly scurrilous
and abusive verses, of which I have an original copy. They are docketed
as being written "Upon the late Viscount Stair and his family, by Sir
William Hamilton of Whitelaw. The marginals by William Dunlop, writer in
Edinburgh, a son of the Laird of Househill, and nephew to the said Sir
William Hamilton." There was a bitter and personal quarrel and rivalry
betwixt the author of this libel, a name which it richly deserves, and
Lord President Stair; and the lampoon, which is written with much more
malice than art, bears the following motto:

Stair's neck, mind, wife, songs, grandson, and the rest, Are wry, false,
witch, pests, parricide, possessed.

This malignant satirist, who calls up all the misfortunes of the family,
does not forget the fatal bridal of Baldoon. He seems, though his verses
are as obscure as unpoetical, to intimate that the violence done to the
bridegroom was by the intervention of the foul fiend, to whom the young
lady had resigned herself, in case she should break her contract with
her first lover. His hypothesis is inconsistent with the account given
in the note upon Law's Memorials, but easily reconcilable to the family

In all Stair's offspring we no difference know,
They do the females as the males bestow;
So he of one of his daughters' marriages gave the ward,
Like a true vassal, to Glenluce's Laird;
He knew what she did to her master plight,
If she her faith to Rutherfurd should slight,
Which, like his own, for greed he broke outright.
Nick did Baldoon's posterior right deride,
And, as first substitute, did seize the bride;
Whate'er he to his mistress did or said,
He threw the bridegroom from the nuptial bed,
Into the chimney did so his rival maul,
His bruised bones ne'er were cured but by the fall.

One of the marginal notes ascribed to William Dunlop applies to the
above lines. "She had betrothed herself to Lord Rutherfoord under horrid
imprecations, and afterwards married Baldoon, his nevoy, and her mother
was the cause of her breach of faith."

The same tragedy is alluded to in the following couplet and note:

What train of curses that base brood pursues, When the young nephew weds
old uncle's spouse.

The note on the word "uncle" explains it as meaning "Rutherfoord, who
should have married the Lady Baldoon, was Baldoon's uncle." The poetry
of this satire on Lord Stair and his family was, as already noticed,
written by Sir William Hamilton of Whitelaw, a rival of Lord Stair
for the situation of President of the Court of Session; a person much
inferior to that great lawyer in talents, and equally ill-treated by the
calumny or just satire of his contemporaries as an unjust and partial
judge. Some of the notes are by that curious and laborious antiquary,
Robert Milne, who, as a virulent Jacobite, willingly lent a hand to
blacken the family of Stair.

Another poet of the period, with a very different purpose, has left
an elegy, in which he darkly hints at and bemoans the fate of the
ill-starred young person, whose very uncommon calamity Whitelaw, Dunlop,
and Milne thought a fitting subject for buffoonery and ribaldry. This
bard of milder mood was Andrew Symson, before the Revolution minister
of Kirkinner, in Galloway, and after his expulsion as an Episcopalian
following the humble occupation of a printer in Edinburgh. He furnished
the family of Baldoon, with which he appears to have been intimate, with
an elegy on the tragic event in their family. In this piece he treats
the mournful occasion of the bride's death with mysterious solemnity.

The verses bear this title, "On the unexpected death of the virtuous
Lady Mrs. Janet Dalrymple, Lady Baldoon, younger," and afford us the
precise dates of the catastrophe, which could not otherwise have been
easily ascertained. "Nupta August 12. Domum Ducta August 24. Obiit
September 12. Sepult. September 30, 1669." The form of the elegy is
a dialogue betwixt a passenger and a domestic servant. The first,
recollecting that he had passed that way lately, and seen all around
enlivened by the appearances of mirth and festivity, is desirous to know
what had changed so gay a scene into mourning. We preserve the reply of
the servant as a specimen of Mr. Symson's verses, which are not of the
first quality:

Sir, 'tis truth you've told.
We did enjoy great mirth; but now, ah me!
Our joyful song's turn'd to an elegie.
A virtuous lady, not long since a bride,
Was to a hopeful plant by marriage tied,
And brought home hither. We did all rejoice,
Even for her sake. But presently our voice
Was turn'd to mourning for that little time
That she'd enjoy: she waned in her prime,
For Atropus, with her impartial knife,
Soon cut her thread, and therewithal her life;
And for the time we may it well remember,
It being in unfortunate September; .
Where we must leave her till the resurrection.
'Tis then the Saints enjoy their full perfection.

Mr. Symson also poured forth his elegiac strains upon the fate of
the widowed bridegroom, on which subject, after a long and querulous
effusion, the poet arrives at the sound conclusion, that if Baldoon had
walked on foot, which it seems was his general custom, he would have
escaped perishing by a fall from horseback. As the work in which it
occurs is so scarce as almost to be unique, and as it gives us the most
full account of one of the actors in this tragic tale which we have
rehearsed, we will, at the risk of being tedious, insert some short
specimens of Mr. Symson's composition. It is entitled:

"A Funeral Elegie, occasioned by the sad and much lamented death of that
worthily respected, and very much accomplished gentleman, David Dunbar,
younger, of Baldoon, only son and apparent heir to the right worshipful
Sir David Dunbar of Baldoon, Knight Baronet. He departed this life on
March 28, 1682, having received a bruise by a fall, as he was riding
the day preceding betwixt Leith and Holyrood House; and was honourably
interred in the Abbey Church of Holyrood House, on April 4, 1682."

Men might, and very justly too, conclude
Me guilty of the worst ingratitude,
Should I be silent, or should I forbear
At this sad accident to shed a tear;
A tear! said I? ah! that's a petit thing,
A very lean, slight, slender offering,
Too mean, I'm sure, for me, wherewith t'attend
The unexpected funeral of my friend:
A glass of briny tears charged up to th' brim.
Would be too few for me to shed for him.

The poet proceeds to state his intimacy with the deceased, and the
constancy of the young man's attendance on public worship, which
was regular, and had such effect upon two or three other that were
influenced by his example:

So that my Muse 'gainst Priscian avers,
He, only he, WERE my parishioners;
Yea, and my only hearers.

He then describes the deceased in person and manners, from which it
appears that more accomplishments were expected in the composition of a
fine gentleman in ancient than modern times:

His body, though not very large or tall,
Was sprightly, active, yea and strong withal.
His constitution was, if right I've guess'd,
Blood mixt with choler, said to be the best.
In's gesture, converse, speech, discourse, attire,
He practis'd that which wise men still admire,
Commend, and recommend. What's that? you'll say.
'Tis this: he ever choos'd the middle way
'Twixt both th' extremes. Amost in ev'ry thing
He did the like, 'tis worth our noticing:
Sparing, yet not a niggard; liberal,
And yet not lavish or a prodigal,
As knowing when to spend and when to spare;
And that's a lesson which not many are
Acquainted with. He bashful was, yet daring
When he saw cause, and yet therein not sparing;
Familiar, yet not common, for he knew
To condescend, and keep his distance too.
He us'd, and that most commonly, to go
On foot; I wish that he had still done so.
Th' affairs of court were unto him well known;
And yet meanwhile he slighted not his own.
He knew full well how to behave at court,
And yet but seldom did thereto resort;
But lov'd the country life, choos'd to inure
Himself to past'rage and agriculture;
Proving, improving, ditching, trenching, draining,
Viewing, reviewing, and by those means gaining;
Planting, transplanting, levelling, erecting
Walls, chambers, houses, terraces; projecting
Now this, now that device, this draught, that measure,
That might advance his profit with his pleasure.
Quick in his bargains, honest in commerce,
Just in his dealings, being much adverse
From quirks of law, still ready to refer
His cause t' an honest country arbiter.
He was acquainted with cosmography,
Arithmetic, and modern history;
With architecture and such arts as these,
Which I may call specifick sciences
Fit for a gentleman; and surely he
That knows them not, at least in some degree,
May brook the title, but he wants the thing,
Is but a shadow scarce worth noticing.
He learned the French, be't spoken to his praise,
In very little more than fourty days.

Then comes the full burst of woe, in which, instead of saying much
himself, the poet informs us what the ancients would have said on such
an occasion:

A heathen poet, at the news, no doubt,
Would have exclaimed, and furiously cry'd out
Against the fates, the destinies and starrs,
What! this the effect of planetarie warrs!
We might have seen him rage and rave, yea worse,
'Tis very like we might have heard him curse
The year, the month, the day, the hour, the place,
The company, the wager, and the race;
Decry all recreations, with the names
Of Isthmian, Pythian, and Olympick games;
Exclaim against them all both old and new,
Both the Nemaean and the Lethaean too:
Adjudge all persons, under highest pain,
Always to walk on foot, and then again
Order all horses to be hough'd, that we
Might never more the like adventure see.

Supposing our readers have had enough of Mr. Symson's woe, and finding
nothing more in his poem worthy of transcription, we return to the
tragic story.

It is needless to point out to the intelligent reader that the
witchcraft of the mother consisted only in the ascendency of a powerful
mind over a weak and melancholy one, and that the harshness with which
she exercised her superiority in a case of delicacy had driven her
daughter first to despair, then to frenzy. Accordingly, the Author
has endeavoured to explain the tragic tale on this principle. Whatever
resemblance Lady Ashton may be supposed to possess to the celebrated
Dame Margaret Ross, the reader must not suppose that there was any idea
of tracing the portrait of the first Lord Viscount Stair in the tricky
and mean-spirited Sir William Ashton. Lord Stair, whatever might be his
moral qualities, was certainly one of the first statesmen and lawyers of
his age.

The imaginary castle of Wolf's Crag has been identified by some lover of
locality with that of Fast Castle. The Author is not competent to judge
of the resemblance betwixt the real and imaginary scenes, having never
seen Fast Castle except from the sea. But fortalices of this description
are found occupying, like ospreys' nests, projecting rocks, or
promontories, in many parts of the eastern coast of Scotland, and the
position of Fast Castle seems certainly to resemble that of Wolf's
Crag as much as any other, while its vicinity to the mountain ridge of
Lammermoor renders the assimilation a probable one.

We have only to add, that the death of the unfortunate bridegroom by
a fall from horseback has been in the novel transferred to the no less
unfortunate lover.

Sir Walter Scott