Introduction

“The Bloodstained Altar: A Scottish Legend” appeared in the third number of Reynolds’s Miscellany in 1846, during the first year of G. W. M. Reynolds’s new periodical. Although a comparatively brief tale, it is representative of the mixture of history, romance, sensationalism, and moral instruction which characterised much nineteenth-century popular fiction. Set during the reign of Robert the Bruce, the story places an invented drama of love and betrayal against the background of recognisable medieval history, incorporating Sir James Douglas’s famous expedition with Bruce’s heart, warfare against the Moors in Spain, and the continuing crusading movement in the eastern Mediterranean. Historical detail, however, is less important than the opportunities which the medieval setting provides for adventure, heightened emotion, and violent retribution.

The principal theme is betrayed friendship. Allan Lockhart and David Somerville are constructed from the beginning as moral opposites. Allan is diligent, generous, and affectionate; Somerville is idle, jealous, and “cunningly malignant.” His resentment originates in Allan’s greater academic success and develops into hatred despite Allan having twice saved his life. The arrival of romantic jealousy merely intensifies an already corrupted friendship when Somerville becomes infatuated with Allan’s betrothed, Elspeth. The tale consequently presents envy and ingratitude as corrosive passions: Somerville cannot acknowledge another man’s virtues without experiencing them as an injury to himself.

This moral opposition is developed through the conventions of Gothic and melodramatic fiction. Somerville arranges Allan’s assassination and subsequently returns to Scotland carrying the intimate tokens intended to prove his friend’s death. Elspeth’s grief leaves her almost incapable of resisting her father’s insistence that she marry Somerville. The wedding consequently becomes the setting for the story’s most theatrical scene. At the altar, Allan suddenly reappears, so pale and emaciated that Somerville believes himself confronted by a man returned from the grave. The supposed apparition denounces him before the assembled company and kills him with the dagger connected to the original attempted murder. The supernatural suggestion is immediately powerful but ultimately explained: the “spectre” is a living man whose survival transforms apparent ghost story into providential revenge.

Allan’s rescue also provides one of the tale’s more interesting reversals. Left for dead in Palestine, he survives through the compassion of an unnamed Arab who tends his wounds, shelters him, and even gives him money for his eventual journey home. The contrast is striking. The Scottish nobleman who professes friendship becomes an attempted murderer, while the culturally and religiously foreign stranger behaves with exemplary humanity. In a story otherwise built upon conventional distinctions between virtue and villainy, moral worth therefore proves independent of nationality or social position.

Like much popular historical fiction, the anonymously written “Bloodstained Altar” finally combines sensation with explicit moralisation. Allan is cleared by the authorities, marries Elspeth, and enjoys a prosperous domestic future, while Somerville and his accomplice receive exemplary punishment. The narrator concludes that the legend demonstrates “the heinous nature of ingratitude,” connecting the story with the supposedly surviving place-name of the “Blood Stained Altar.” The tale thus offers in miniature many of the attractions of the fiction published in Reynolds’s Miscellany: historical spectacle, Gothic sensation, emotional excess, moral contrasts, and the gratifying punishment of treachery.

“The Bloodstained Altar.”

Reynolds’s Miscellany 1 no. 3 (1846): 41–43

At the commencement of the fourteenth century, when Robert Bruce was King of Scotland, the monastery of St. Leonard, in Lanark, was speedily attaining that celebrity which it afterwards fully acquired under the fostering protection of some of the subsequent monarchs of Scotland; and in the year 1320, it became famous for the classical attainments of its monkish inmates.

It was at this period that David Somerville and Allan Lockhart became inmates of St. Leonard’s, their mutual object being the thorough completion of their studies before they entered fully on public life. These two young noblemen were nearly of the same age, and were both remarkably handsome; but the cheering light of noonday is not farther removed from the murky shades of midnight, than were the tempers and inclinations of these two young men, who contrasted with each other in after life.

Allan Lockhart was the eldest son of Sir John Lockhart, of Cleghorn, and was of mild, gentle, and winning manners; Somerville was the third son of John, first baron of Cothulla, and was cunningly malignant, cautiously profligate; and in his bosom were nurtured feelings alike disgraceful to the nobleman, the Scotsman, and the man.

Lockhart attended with the utmost assiduity to the instructions of his reverend preceptors, while his companion haughtily rejected all their proffered instructions, and passed the day in idleness. As the classical progress of the latter was necessarily far inferior to that of Lockhart, he was consequently far less esteemed by his monkish tutors; and he conceived a fierce jealousy of his successful rival. But his bad feelings were wholly unsuspected by Lockhart, who still cherished a warm friendship for him, and had even twice saved his life during the rough sports of the field.

Yet, notwithstanding these and many other proofs of friendly regard on the part of Lockhart, gratitude never warmed the flinty heart of the envious youth, who bitterly cursed the fortune which had laid him under such extraordinary obligations to his hated rival. These rancorous feelings were still further augmented by the knowledge he possessed of an ardent attachment which had existed for many years between his companion and the beautiful Elspeth Lockhart.

Elspeth was the eldest daughter of Sir Simon Lockhart of Lee, and was the cousin of her lover; but a dispensation had been procured, and the visits of Allan were most welcome to the maiden, who, by the consent of their respective parents, was betrothed to him. He, with a certain degree of justifiable pride, had introduced David Somerville to his bride, that he might behold and acknowledge the surpassing charms of his fair relative. This interview was at once fatal to all the feelings of honour which had, till then, inhabited the young man’s bosom; and he diligently sought to supplant his rival, that he might himself gain the affections of Elspeth. But his treacherous designs were, for a time, counteracted by the peculiar circumstances of that period. Sir James Douglas, on receiving the dying commands of his sovereign, Robert Bruce, concerning the burial of his heart, summoned to Douglas Castle all the young Scottish noblemen who were desirous of acquiring honour and renown by accompanying him on this expedition; and, in fact, it was reckoned a forfeiture of honour to prefer cowardly ease in Scotland, to the expected laurels which were to be gathered in the Holy Land.

Allan Lockhart at once resolved to accompany the Douglas; and Somerville, being without excuse, also determined to join the warlike party.

The appointed day arrived when Sir James and his numerous retinue purposed to leave the castle of Douglas, and Lockhart had, in the presence of his friend, a parting interview with his beloved Elspeth.

The lovers mutually pledged their troth to remain faithful and true to each other, by kissing a small crucifix; and, breaking a silver groat, they took each an equal portion; then, cutting a lock of hair from their brows, they exchanged them as a memorial of their love.

Letters being but little in use at that period, and their conveyance being at best precarious, if not altogether impracticable, it was agreed that in case of the death of Lockhart, the pledges of their mutual love should be brought home to Elspeth by Somerville or one whom he should appoint. This proposal naturally awakened all the fears of the maiden, who sobbed aloud; but the time allotted for the continuance of their meeting had now expired, and the young man, clasping his betrothed bride in his arms, bestowed on her a long and fond embrace—imprinted on her lips the kiss of warm union; then, unwillingly whispering “farewell,” hastily departed, accompanied by his friend, leaving Elspeth gazing vacantly in the direction he had gone, as if almost unconscious that her lover had disappeared.

We will now pass on to the time when Sir James Douglas, in the furtherance of his pious designs, had been constrained to land in Spain; and, grateful for the kind reception he had received from the king of Arragon, who then warred against the Saracens under the king of Grenada, he offered his services to aid the friendly monarch in rebelling the intruders.

This offer was thankfully accepted; and Douglas, after performing acts worthy his name, unfortunately fell, overpowered by numbers, and covered with wounds.

After the untimely death of their illustrious leader, there was a division among the companions of his toils and the sharers in his glory: the one party was for returning to Scotland with the body of their commander and the heart of their king; while the other was for choosing another leader and continuing their journey to the Holy City. They consequently separated—the larger party returning to their own homes; and the lesser, consisting of nearly a hundred men-at-arms, well equipped, and among whom were Lockhart and Somerville, embarked for Palestine to aid the Crusaders.

The important and eventful particulars concerning the Crusaders are pretty generally known. They were entered on in an earlier age than the one in which the circumstances we have related took place; but an almost continual warfare was kept up in Palestine by the enthusiastic chivalry of the western world.

Philip de Valais, of France, had at this time been appointed Generalissimo of the crusade by the Pope; and he right gladly welcomed the little band of Scottish noblemen who now joined his forces.

Lockhart and several others of the party signalized themselves in many of the skirmishes that almost daily took place; and he so endeared himself to his commander, that the latter viewed him almost with parental feelings. But alas! one day the astounding intelligence was brought to him that the young man was nowhere to be found. There had been a severe and sanguinary engagement on the preceding day; and as Lockhart was seen to leave the camp towards the evening, it was conjectured that he had been seized and slain by a party of the vanquished foe who still hovered near. This supposition was afterwards corroborated by the testimony of David Somerville, who, on learning the supposed tragical fate of his friend, vowed in the most solemn manner that he would never rest until he found whether Lockhart was dead or still in the land of the living; and he departed on his melancholy mission, accompanied by a trusty attendant.

Towards evening the adventurers returned to the camp, apparently fainting under fatigue, while their faithful steeds were jaded and toil-worn. After partaking of some refreshment, Somerville stated that, after a long and painful search, they had found the body of Lockhart, pierced with a thousand wounds, robbed of most of his clothing, and lying nearly naked on the sand. The robbers had apparently never observed, or else they disdained to carry off the broken piece of silver which was suspended from his neck by a necklace of hair; and, taking these tokens from the body, Somerville and his attendant laid the murdered nobleman in a premature grave, it being impossible to remove the already decomposing corpse to the camp.

On hearing this tale of woe, many were the lamentations made for the young man who had perished in the bloom of youth and in the pride of manhood. Philip de Valais, especially, mourned with a bitter sorrow the untimely death of the warrior who had so won his regard. After many months of a severe, protracted, and harassing warfare, it was judged necessary that a part of the troops should be sent to recruit their health, strength, and numbers, in their own land; whilst others were summoned to fill their places. Somerville was among those who thus obtained a temporary respite from the fatigues of war; and on his return to Scotland he lost no time in visiting Elspeth Lockhart, and imparting to her the melancholy intelligence with which he was charged. But the doleful news fell on the ear of the beautiful—the loving—the devoted maiden like the report of a thunderbolt.

Somerville, during the progress of unfolding the sad particulars, presented to her the well-known tokens of tie veracity, which she received with trembling hand and examined with streaming eyes. Her fears were by them fully confirmed, and she frantically exclaimed—“Alas! I perceive that the melancholy tidings you unfold are too true, for I am firmly persuaded that he would never have parted with these memorials while life remained!”

Long she mourned the death of her lover; and frequently she visited the well-known “trysting tree” where they had so often met. After a time she regained a degree of apparent composure; but it was an unnatural calm that pervaded her mind, and she rapidly sank into a torpid state, from which not all the affectionate arts of her parents or the skilful endeavours of the family physician could arouse her.

She would, in fact, have remained in a state of celibacy, had not her father peremptorily enjoined her to receive David Sommerville as her declared lover and intended husband—he having solicited her hand. Being unable to rouse her mind sufficiently for any exertion, she tacitly acquiesced in this arrangement. Her memory, however, notwithstanding the efforts to the contrary, still reverted to the untimely fate of Lockhart, and contrasted his open and generous disposition with the baseness of the darker passions which sometimes escaped from her present lover.

The preparations for the marriage were conducted in the most magnificent style; and they were united in the sacred bonds of the connubial state in the Chapel of the Monastery of St. Leonard’s, in Lanark. The aged abbot was about to conclude the imposing ceremony by bestowing his blessing on the newly-married pair, when the figure of a man who is all appearance at least, was more like one who had tenanted the grave than a being possessed of life, was seen slowly advancing up the middle aisle, till before the high altar he confronted the husband of Elspeth.

The pallid features of this seeming spectre were the identical ones of Allan Lockhart! But, alas! how changed in appearance! It seemed actually as if a denizen of the narrow house had suddenly burst from the grave and appeared once more on earth.

Somerville, on beholding the sunken eyes and the pallid countenance of his singular intruder, started with affright, and exclaimed, in accents rendered almost inarticulate, with the utmost horror, “Merciful heaven! what demon is this? Do the very dead leave their cold and cheerless beds to reproach me?”

Here he stopped, unable to proceed—and remained quite speechless, with horror and amazement pictured on his countenance. His distended eyes glared wildly on the face of the stranger, who answered in a hollow tone,—“Yes, monster! yes!—I am come to avenge thy barbarous deeds—thy broken vows—and thy treacherous friendship!!!—Villainous and cowardly assassin, knowest thou this dagger? or knowest thou these mementos, fell character engraven on the hilt? Speak, monster! speak! and disclose thy perfidious deeds. Wilt, or have to receive the mortal wound!” So saying, he plunged the dagger deep into the bosom of the wretched nobleman, who fell on the pavement and breathed out his last remnant of life in a fearful groan apparently of the deepest despair.

Horror seized on the spectators of this tragical scene, and they continued gazing on the lifeless lump of clay, Elspeth, on beholding the well-known countenance of the stranger, had swooned away, and was thus spared the sight of the fearful death of Somerville. On recovering, she found herself, not in the presence of a spirit, but in the arms of her long absent lover, who now strained her to his bosom in an affectionate embrace, exclaiming with the utmost tenderness, “O, Elspeth! do I once more behold thee lovely features? But you, too, are changed! can I believe that grief for my loss has robbed that cheek of its bloom?”

It appeared that the treacherous David Somerville, wearied by hearing the many praises that were daily heaped on the young knight, had resolved at once to get quit of his rival by one bold stroke; and he promised a reward to his confidential attendant should he undertake the assassination of the young man, and bring to him the broken piece of silver and the lock of hair.

This bloody design was in a great measure successful, as, at the close of a very sultry day, Lockhart had wandered forth from the camp to enjoy the refreshing breeze. He was musing on his far distant, though to less dearly beloved Elspeth, when he was suddenly stabbed in the back by the cowardly assassin who had dogged his footsteps. Lockhart instantly fell to the ground, muttering, “Ah! treacherous villain!” and fainted away.

The murderer, supposing he had breathed his last, rifled the body, and left it lying on the same spot where it had fallen. Here the unfortunate youth was found shortly after (almost lifeless) by an Arab, whose heart was the seat of feelings which were strangers to the breast of too many of his wandering brethren. Perceiving that the wounded man still breathed, he quickly attended to him, carried him to his tent, and applied such simple remedies as, from frequent experience, he knew to be beneficial in these cases. The compassionate Arab continued his care, and the patient soon recovered. But many months passed away before he regained sufficient strength to resume his duties; and in the meantime his host learnt that the companions of Lockhart had departed from Palestine.

The young man was not positively aware to whom he could impute the assault; but the dagger found beside him on the ground had engraven on its handle the name of him whom he had always deemed a true friend. He was, therefore, determined to follow as soon as he was able, the little band of companions who had embarked for their native shores; and the day having at length arrived when he should leave the lowly dwelling of the hospitable Arab, he made the requisite preparations. His kind host was greatly afflicted by the prospect of his departure, and before his guest commenced his journey he presented him with what little store of money he possessed, that he might the more easily reach his native land; and, with streaming eyes, took leave of the young knight.

It would be a vain and needless task to recount the many difficulties he had to surmount, and the many privations he had to undergo in his journey homewards. He was seized, thrown into prison by the Moors, and was threatened with all the horrors of perpetual slavery; but after eighteen months spent in those inhospitable regions, he made his escape and landed in Holland, from whence he was conveyed to Scotland in a Flemish bark; and on landing he hurried home, to his paternal dwelling, where his unexpected appearance caused great joy to his relations, they having been apprised of his reported death on the arrival of his comrades in Scotland.

On making inquiry concerning Elspeth, his betrothed bride, he learned, with much surprise, that a marriage was to be solemnized the next day between her and his quondam friend, David Somerville. Engaged by the unexpected villainy of his former companion, he wreaked his vengeance on Somerville in the manner related in the foregoing part of our story.

After recounting every particular Lockhart knew concerning the dark affair, he delivered himself up to justice, as he scorned even to attempt an escape; but it was soon after set at liberty, while his conduct met with the approbation of his judges.

The co-partner in the guilt of Somerville was directly apprehended, and thrown into prison; and, being put to the torture, he confessed the whole of the villainous scheme, and accordingly met his just deserts for the part which he bore in the guilty transaction. Elspeth, so soon a wife and a widow, yet ere many weeks passed away once more approached the altar, and bestowed her hand on him on whom her affections had long been placed.

This second marriage proved most auspicious, as they lived happily together till the snows of age descended on their heads, while they reared a numerous offspring of hardy sons and lovely daughters to perpetuate their name to future generations.

Such is the Traditionary Legend connected with the death of David Somerville. It shows, in a forcible manner, the heinous nature of ingratitude, and also the punishment it justly deserves; while to this day the exact spot on which stood the Chapel of St. Leonard is known by the name of—“The Blood Stained Altar.”