Part 2 / Act 5 — THE MURDER OF SIR JAMES STANFIELD. In Two Fits.
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——Blood will have blood:
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak;
Augurs, and understood relations, have
By maggot pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The secret’st man of blood.
Shakspeare.
328Sir James Stanfield, the subject of the following ballad, held the rank of Colonel in the parliamentary army. After Cromwell’s victory at Dunbar, he came to Scotland, and established a woollen manufactory at Newmills (now Amisfield,) in the neighbourhood of Haddington, under the immediate patronage of the protectorate. At the Restoration, Parliament granted certain immunities and privileges to Colonel Stanfield, on whom Charles II. conferred the honour of knighthood.—Sir G. B. Hepburn’s View Agri. His prospects were, however, soon blasted; for, in 1687, he was found murdered, as was supposed, by his eldest son Philip, whom he had disinherited for his debauchery. This unfortunate person was tried, condemned, and executed for the murder 24th February 1688.—Fountainhall’s Dec. vol. i. p. 484.
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SIR JAMES STANFIELD. Fit the First.
Sir James has to the greenwood gone,
And he has gone alone;
Sir James will walk the live-long day,
And tell his mind to none.
He has not ta’en his dappled steed,
Nor yet his spotted hound;
But wildly, with his grey head bare,
He treads the dewy ground.
Now books and board have ceased to charm,
He walks like one deranged,
Or troubled ghost, at dead of night,
From earth and Heaven estranged.
330The kimmer sat behind the thorn,
Bleaching her linens clean,
When she beheld a leal old man,
Come pacing o’er the green.
“O woes me! on my wicked son,”
She heard the old man say;
“O woes me! on my wicked son,
“That kills me day by day.
“He spends his days in folly’s haunts,
“His nights in courts obscene;
“And, oh! ere life’s meridian day,
“A begging he’ll be seen.
“O woes me! on my lady proud,
“She’s leagured with my son;
“They wish my head in a clay-cold bed—
“I feel their curse begun.
“O woman’s love is light and vain,
“It’s easy aye to bear;
“It blossoms like the flower in June,
“To fade at the fall o’ the year.
331“Time was, with heart elate with joy,
“Cheer’d by my sov’reign’s smile,
“When self-applause and honour’s meed
“Did all my cares beguile;
“But as some pine, that braves the storm
“And rears on high its head,
“Of all its vernal worth is shorn
“By reptiles which it fed:
“So by the inmates of my house
“I’m wearied and undone;
“My wife’s unfaithful to my bed,
“I’m hated by my son.
“His crimes, conspicuous as yon orb,
“Are blazing far abroad,
“Denouncing wrath, he strikes the priest
“Even in the house of God.
“He curses church—he curses king—
“His curses fall on me!
“But, Heaven! hear a father’s prayer;
“For vengeance dwells with thee!”
332The kimmer sobb’d,—then straight arose
To comfort the lorn knight;
She loosed her loud loquacious tongue,
But he was out of sight.
“O leeze me on this warld’s care,
“’Tis true as tongue can tell,
“The great anes o’ the earth,” quo’ she,
“They just are like oursel.
“O whither has the auld man gane?
“I trow he’s no himsel’;
“And much I dread he’s ta’en the road
“Down bie the haunted well!
“From yonder bush a voice of wo
“Comes mournful on the breeze,
“The accents, as they meet my ear,
“My very soul doth freeze.”
‘O spare a father’s life!’ it says,
‘Avert the fatal blow;
‘O let these hoary hairs repose
‘Till time shall lay them low!’
333As springs a tiger from the brake,
Two ruffians fiercely sprung,
And with a ’kerchief close comprest,
Soon gagg’d the old man’s tongue.
They tied his throat with hempen cord,
Then foot and arm they wheel,
Till crash’d his windpipe like the ice
Beneath the courser’s heel.
The kimmer thrice assay’d to speak;
She thrice assay’d to fly;
But kimmer’s blood forsook her heart,
Her palsied veins ran dry.
Sunk, motionless, upon the turf,
She lay like marble stone;
A mortal image but remain’d,
With all sensation gone.
Sir James comes not at breakfast hour,
He does not come to dine;
For him they search both house and bower
Upon the verdant Tyne.
334There is a gloom on every face,
And every heart is sore;
There is a sadness on the earth,
And rural mirth is o’er.
Now all is silent in the hall,
Where all was noise before;
The menials tremble as they list
Each grating, opening door.
The lady to her chamber hied,
And made her silent moan,
And wonder’d much within herself
Where her true knight had gone.
Her heart swell’d big with dread remorse;
Her brain boil’d as with fire;
And much she mourn’d that she took part
With son against his sire.
“O wo betide the cruel youth!
“And leman’s treach’rous smile,
“That e’er seduced my foolish heart
“To work my husband guile.”
335She laid her head on pillow soft,
But, ah! ’twas not to sleep;
She paced her chamber o’er and o’er,
And waken’d but to weep;
For when those aching eyes were closed,
Unused to the salt tear,
As oft the lady, starting, thought
Tyne gurgled in her ear.
Why does the house-dog bay so loud?
He’s growl’d since depth of noon,
And now he hunts his own foot-sound,
And shadow by the moon.
Why does the howlet whoop so bold
At the lone hour of night?
Why dances on the river’s marge
The meteor’s blue dead-light?
Why do the grating hinges crash,
The windows rise and fall?
And that unearthly melody
Come sighing from the hall?
336Alas! ’tis wayward phantasy
That’s working in the brain;
For silent is that mansion now
As death’s most drear domain.
When the cock clapp’d his speckled wing,
And day began to shine,
O there were nought but drowsy eyes
Upon the banks of Tyne!
The woods and glens were peopled o’er
With matron, youth, and maid,
Who search’d from Linton’s rocky linn
To Morham’s mossy shade.
Sir James’s steed stands by the pool,
It thirsts—but will not drink;
Nor bridle rein, nor gentle hand,
Will urge him by the brink.
’Tis merry in the greenwood now,
The bugles sound afar,
The trees upwave their dark-green locks
Above the sylvan war.
337The beagles plunge into the pool,
The horses shake their manes,—
A corpse is dragg’d towards the shore,
O God!—it is Sir James!
O why does vengeance sleep in Heaven!
Or does it only fall
On guiltless heads, that daring crime
Still rules this earthly ball?
Or does it smoulder but to strike,
Like Etna’s bowels to burst,
And with a tenfold vengeance hurl
Her bolts on the accurst?
END OF FIT THE FIRST.
338
SIR JAMES STANFIELD. Fit the Second.
Let’s briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i’ the hall together,
And question this most bloody piece of work,
To know it further.—Shakspeare.
The lady shriek’d, and aye she sobb’d,
As she wou’d burst in twain;
“O peace,” quoth she, “I’ll ne’er know more,
“Since my loved knight is slain!
“O pale, pale are those cheeks that flush’d
“With manhood’s ruddy hue;
“And glazed those sparkling eyes in death,
“That spake a soul so true!”
339“Go saddle ye the swiftest steed
“That’s snorting in the sta’,
“And ride, go ride, my trusty serf,
“As fast as ye can ca’.
“Ride by Edina’s lofty towers,
“My Philip bring to me;
“For much I dread a natural death
“His father didna dee.”
They search’d the city through and through
From night till dawn of day;
But the wicked youth they could not find
Till his sire was in the clay.
O then he made a loud lament!
And swore himself he’d kill;
But ere a night and day elapsed
He did not look so ill.
And soon Newmills’s mansion fair
With merriment did shake,
As if the burial bread had been
Bewitch’d to bridal cake.
340And lightly grew the lady’s heart,
And, O! she busked proud;
And in her sable weeds appear’d
Like beauty in a cloud.
Alas! that aged men should e’er
The youthful virgin wed;
Alas! that youthful wife should e’er
Forsake the marriage bed.
’Twas whisper’d, and perchance ’twas true,
The lady oft was seen
A dallying with her lemane vile
Among the breckans green.
’Tis merry in the greenwood now,
The beagles blithe are running,
And children ramble in the woods
Their golden tresses sunning.
In search of nature’s feathery quire
Two youths had heedless run,
When they o’erheard a villain say
“The hard-won turn is done!”
341“He’d borne the brunt of flood and field;
“Had stood knee-deep in gore!
“But never saw a soul so stout
“As that the young Knight bore.
“While in the agonies of death
“The old man’s heart did bleed,
“With taunts, reproach, and fiend-like scorn
“He urged the hellish deed.”
O why comes the king’s messenger
With warrant in his hand?
And why do these grim officers
Bid Philip Stanfield stand?
By yonder stream they’ve ta’en a turn
Beneath the willow’s shade,
Where, shelter’d by the rush-grown bank,
The suicide was laid.
O why do the physicians come,
Muffled in cloak and cowl?
Their business is to save the living,
Sure death they cannot fool.
342Why comes the sexton with his spade?
Another foolish man!
Who daily haps mortality,
Yet’s mortal o’er his cann.
The spade upturn’d the wormy earth,
And grazed the coffin’s coom,
When forth they dragg’d the lifeless knight,
Like prisoner to his doom.
Then to Newmills they solemn wend,
Each mourner grim and tall;
And dread amazement paints each face
That crowds into the hall.
Now, “Stanfield, lift thy father’s head,”
The doctors straight did say,
“That we may view his mangled form,
“For here has been foul play!”
Young Stanfield touch’d his father’s corpse,
When ’rose a fearful wail;
For blood gush’d from the winding-sheet,
And every face grew pale.
343And aye the dead clothes redder grew—
The youth fell on the floor;
Thus suddenly remorse will smite,
And guilty heart o’erpower.
“Thou art the murderer! alas!”
The pale chirurgeon said;
“Beadles, your stoutest bonds prepare,
“And bind the parricide.”
Then swore the youth by God and heaven,
O’ercome with seeming wo,
“My heart and hand are pure from blood,
“As Lapland’s spotless snow.”
“’Tis false!”—they bound him where he stood,
Nor listed to his tale;
They march’d him hand and limb in chains
To fair Edina’s jail.
Soon sentenced by his country’s laws,
He met a shameful death;
But harden’d guilt the crime denied
With his expiring breath.
344Yet retribution came, though late,
Even to the gallows tree;
The cord unclasping, down he slipt
Upon his bended knee.
The hangman finish’d, with a grin,
What seem’d so ill begun,
And strangled, in the pangs of death,
As sire, so died the son.
The headsman plied his horrid art,
When with unerring stroke
The youth’s devoted head, laid low,
Roll’d bloody from the block.
Then high in air his clotted locks
To rabble’s gaze was spread,
As loud the executor cried,
“Behold the parricide!”
On Haddington’s eastern portal high
His hand and head were placed;
For near that fatal field did lie,
This horrid crime disgraced.
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NOTES TO SIR JAMES STANFIELD.
Page 331, line 15.
Denouncing wrath, he strikes the priest
Even in the house of God.
Of Philip Stanfield, Wodrow observes,—“This profligate youth being at the university of St Andrews, a good many years before he committed this barbarous murder, came to a sermon in Kinkel-close, about a mile from St Andrews, where Mr John Welch was preaching, and in his spite and mockery in time of sermon, threw somewhat or other at the minister, which hit him. The minister stopped, and said, ‘He did not know who had put that public affront on a servant of Christ; but be who he would, he was persuaded there would be more present at his death than were hearing him preach that day, and the multitude was not small.’ This was accomplished, and Mr Stanfield acknowledged this in prison after he was condemned, and that God was about to accomplish what he had been warned of.”
Page 333, line 1.
A springs a tiger from the brake,
Two ruffians fiercely sprung,
And with a ’kerchief close comprest,
Soon gagg’d the old man’s tongue.
The account of this dreadful case is thus given by Lord Fountainhall, a contemporary judge.—“1687, 14th Dec.—Sir James Stanfield being found dead some few days before, beside his own house of Newmills, some thinking he had drowned himself in some melancholy fit, to which he was incident; the fame of the country did run that he was strangled by his sons or servants; for he had disinherited his eldest son for his debauchery, and disponed his fortune to his second son, and failzieing of him to Commissar Dalrymple. On this suspicion there was an order directed from the Privy 346Council to Muirhead and Crawford, chirurgeons in Edinburgh, to visit his body and report; for they had very hastily buried him, pretending that they would not have his body to be gazed upon and viewed by all comers: And they having reported that they saw signs of strangulation, and that his head bled when Philip his eldest son touched it, he was apprehended and imprisoned, as likewise two of Sir James’s servants, and a woman, which three last were brought in, 8th December, before the Privy Council, and tortured with the thumbikins, but confessed nothing.—Yet the presumptions were very pregnant against Philip.—He had attempted on his father formerly, which his father had declared to several; and he declined to concur with the King’s Advocate in a pursuit against the murderers; and was found to have much money, (though he gave in a bill seeking an aliment,) and did hastily bury him; and bruised blood was found about his throat; and the mother had the dead clothes all ready; and the minister, (Mr John Bell,) heard great noise that night. And now to get favour, he had declared himself Papist; upon which grounds a criminal indictment being raised against him, as also for drinking the King’s confusion, and for cursing his father, &c.”
In his defence, it was urged that he was intoxicated when he drank the king’s confusion, with whom he linked the pope’s, the chancellor’s, and the devil’s; yet the justices found it treason! 2do, That with respect to cursing his father, that they were afterwards reconciled—the justices also repelled this defence. 3tio, That the presumptions libelled against the parricide were not relevant. His lordship goes on to state “the chirurgeon’s attest, that he was not drowned but strangled; the miraculous providence of the two children discovering the truth against their parents, the one a boy of 13, and the other a girl of 11 years, who were not sworn, not knowing the importance of an oath; but only declared that they heard their parents telling one to the other that the turn was done; and that Philip carried very stoutly, and that they should have put a stone about his neck to make him sink.”
It was also proved, in extenuation, that Sir James was once mad, and thereafter hypocondriac. “That he used to tell, himself, that in one of these fits he rode towards England with a design 347never to have returned, but that his horse stopped at ——, and would not go forward, which he looked upon as the finger of God; and that once he was throwing himself out at a window at the Netherbow, if Thomas Lendall had not pulled him in by the feet; and that the very week before his death, he desired George Stirling to let blood of him, because his head was light,” &c.
The following circumstance, mentioned in the indictment, seems to have had great weight with the jury:—“That (the deceased’s) nearest relations being required to lift the corpse into the coffin, after it had been inspected, upon the said Philip Stanfield touching of it, (according to God’s usual mode of discovering murder,) it bled afresh upon the said Philip; and that thereupon he let the body fall, and fled from it in the greatest consternation, crying, Lord have mercy upon me!” The assize finding him guilty, “the Lords of Justiciary decerned him to be hanged on the 15th February, at the cross of Edinburgh, and his tongue to be cut out for cursing his father, and his right hand to be cut off for the parricide; and his head to be put upon the East Port of Haddington, as nearest to the place of murder; and his body to be hung up in chains betwixt Leith and Edinburgh, and his lands and goods to be confiscated for the treason.”
All this was rigorously put in execution. “Some thought,” continues his lordship, “if not a miraculous, yet an extraordinary return of his imprecations, the accident of the slipping of the knots on the rope, whereby his feet and knees were on the scaffold, which necessitated them to strangle him, bearing therein a near resemblance to his father’s death: and a new application having been made, that they might be allowed to bury him, Duke Hamilton was for it, but the Chancellor would not consent, because he had mocked his religion; so his body was hung up, and after some days being stolen down, it was found lying in a ditch among some water, as his father’s was; and by order was hung up again, and then a second time was taken down. This is a dark case of divination, to be remitted to the great day, whether he was guilty or innocent. Only it is certain he was a bad youth, and may serve as a beacon to all profligate persons.”—Fountainhall’s Dec. Lords Ses. vol. i. p. 484.
348